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Guest Post: Crescendo of Darkness

Published June 7, 2018 by admin

Don’t you love it when you take off for a couple weeks and it turns into…uh, more than a couple weeks? Yeaaaah. Anyway, we’ll get into that later. For today, let’s look at an amazeballs new book out that’s sure to grab the interest of horror fiends and music fans alike!

 

crescendo

Music has the power to soothe the soul, drive people to obsession, and soundtrack evil plots. Is music the instigator of madness, or the key that unhinges the psychosis within? From guitar lessons in a graveyard and a baby allergic to music, to an infectious homicidal demo and melancholy tunes in a haunted lighthouse, Crescendo of Darkness will quench your thirst for horrifying audio fiction.

HorrorAddicts.net is proud to present fourteen tales of murderous music, demonic performers, and cursed audiophiles.

Please enjoy an excerpt below from Crescendo of Darkness.

“Keep the Beat” by Calvin Demmer

A young girl questions why her tribe plays the djembe drums

every night and finds it may be more than just a tradition.

 

It resembled clockwork. Dusk would fall, and the sounds of djembe drums, which ranged from thuds to slaps, would start. First, it was only one or two drums in the distance, but, within minutes, Aminata heard the beat all around her. It was a simple pattern, which didn’t end until night had blanketed the world.

Watching some of the villagers of her tribe prepare fires to cook, it dawned on her she’d never questioned why the drums were brought out. She inhaled burned wood scented smoke from the fires, wondering why people went separate directions into the jungle to sit alone and play. Were they providing amplified entertainment for the rest of the village while they cooked? There was no singing along with the beat as was usual when instruments were played—though she did hear a few people mumble along. As soon as it was dark, the drums stopped, the people returned, and everyone ate.

Every night.

She’d approached Idrissa, one of the male elders she got along with best, after deciding to investigate the peculiar ritual. He was tall and muscly, which were common features among the men in the community. The drums had already started up their beat.

“You’re not wrong to question it,” Idrissa said, taking a seat alongside Aminata in front of one of the fires. “In fact, it’s a good sign. It shows you’re ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“You’re ready to know more.” Idrissa reached for a stick and held it over the fire. Smoke rose from the end of the stick. “Maybe, you are even ready to participate.”

“I’m ready.” Aminata didn’t really feel the desire to hit on a drum, but if it led her to uncovering the purpose of why they were played, she was prepared to feign interest.

“Hmm. Perhaps you are ready.”

“I am, elder Idrissa.”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Idrissa looked to the heavens.

Aminata frowned.

“Have you ever wondered why we take the ill or severely wounded beyond the mountains?”

“You take them to the land of peace, to die. Like you did with my parents when they were ill and could not be healed.”

Idrissa nodded. “Yes. That was a sad day. You were very brave. But, there is more to it. The mountains surrounding us are very special. You see, if a person dies in the valley, their spirit can’t move on to the next realm. They remain stuck. We believe they live in caves in the mountain and are only able to roam the land at dusk.”

Aminata smiled. She didn’t know how to respond to the ridiculous tale. Why could an elder never be direct? She’d have to go through an entire procession of some age-old myth before she’d ask one of the younger adults, who’d then give her a straight answer. She bit her lower lip, regretting not going to one of the younger adults first.

“But,” Idrissa said, making a fist. “Not all the spirits in the valley are friendly. A few warriors from tribes that once ruled these lands, or warriors who attacked our very tribe, remain.”

Idrissa picked up a djembe drum near him. Softly, he tapped the beat Aminata knew well. It was the same beat she heard every evening at dusk.

Every evening.

Idrissa stopped. “That beat. These drums. They protect us during dusk. Our village has been performing the ritual ever since we first moved to the valley.”

Intrigue lit a flame in Aminata’s mind. She didn’t believe the tale. Evil ghosts roaming the land at dusk were a step too far, but she couldn’t resist asking a question, either.

“What happens if the beat isn’t played?”

“Bad things.” Idrissa placed the drum on the ground. He seemed reluctant to release his grip and his fingers trailed over the drum’s animal skin. “You see, Aminata. Not only must the djembe drums be played every night, correctly. But, there can be no area in our defense where there is silence. The wrong type of ghosts will find that spot, and…”

“Aminata. Aren’t you going to eat tonight?”

Aminta turned.

Didi, one of the elder women, stood with her hands on her hips.

“Yes,” Aminata said.

“Come then.”

“Don’t worry.” Idrissa patted her shoulder. “Tomorrow, I will have a surprise for you. I will discuss with the other elders first, but I believe you are indeed ready for the next step.”

Aminata nodded.

She followed Didi. Her stomach growled, as her mind tingled with many thoughts awakened by the old myth. She hadn’t received the truth, but she believed she’d obtain the real reason from one of the young adults. What she had received was a peculiar story. And now, she wanted to know why there was such a strange tale in the first place.

Was it covering up something else?

*********************************

To read the rest of this story and thirteen

other horror music shorts, check out:

Crescendo of Darkness

 

Holiday Excerpt: A Newborn King to See

Published December 21, 2017 by admin

Admittedly, I’m not as cynical as I bill myself. Like everything else, I tend to hide behind the sarcasm and eye rolling a little bit. While I have mixed feelings about this time of year, it makes great fodder for stories. Some of which actually are uplifting.

I KNOW!

With that in mind, here’s another excerpt from my co-authored collection, Lost in the Shadows. This time in A Newborn King to See, we take a look at my take on hope, reincarnation, and the little drummer boy.

Hey, I never said it wasn’t going to be weird.

***

The close of the year is coming. Once again my annual search has become a little more. It is the same every year. I have never once failed to find what I am seeking. Still, the thought of failing for the first time is enough to make me anxious. Or is it the thought of not stumbling into Him again this year? I suppose it is this way for most people.
It is our special tradition. Every year the hide-and-seek game takes me to new countries, new times, new peoples. It has been our special game since the ancient year a tiny infant looked upon a poor beggar child with a single talent, and smiled.
I did not understand the full extent of such a blessing then. I was too busy worrying about my next meal. That tiny smile followed me afterwards, until one unseasonably cold Bethlehem night I went to sleep huddled in a pile of rough grain sacks in an alley and never saw another sunrise.
His memory went with me and I suddenly found that I had so much possibility ahead of me. There was no time to be bitter about one short, poor life. The One that had sent Him is a loving protector and understands my longing for expression and knows of my quiet bond with the boy.
At the start of each year my search begins and my spirit wanders tirelessly to seek Him out before the year’s close. I see many people this way and see many old faces resurrected and reflected in the eyes of each new generation.
I have strolled down crowded streets in third-world countries. It is astounding and heart-breaking that thousands of years past my time there are children that have less than I once did. I peek in windows in London, Sydney, New York, Los Angeles, amazed at opulence beyond that of the kings and Caesars of old. I take all that I see to heart, and when I do finally return for my rest I talk about this with others, with The One that sent my very best friend in those quiet moments before dawn.
I always find Him, though, in this odd game of hide and seek that has spanned the centuries. He is good at hiding, always has been, for many never do find Him. But I know always to look in unexpected places, because he is no longer content to wait in the obvious stables and mangers. One must look harder.

lost in the shadows

Kindle     Paperback 

Journey with authors Selah Janel and S.H. Roddey to a world where every idea is a possibility and every genre an invitation. In this collection of forty-seven short stories, lines blur and worlds collide in strange and wonderful new ways. Get lost with the authors as they wander among fantasy, horror, science fiction, and other speculative musings.

Shadows can’t hurt you, and sometimes it’s all right to venture off the path.

Weeping in the Wings by Terry Lynn Thomas

Published August 31, 2016 by admin

Weeping-in-the-Wings-Blitz-Banner

Time for another look at a new book! This week, we’re exploring Weeping in the Wings by Terry Lynn Thomas.

Weeping-in-the-Wings

 

Title:  Weeping in the Wings

Series:  Grace Bennett Mysteries, Book 2

Author:  Terry Lynn Thomas

Published:  August 11, 2016

Publisher:  Black Opal Books

Genre:   Historical Gothic Mystery

Synopsis:

San Francisco, March 1943

Sarah Bennett harbors two secrets: She sees ghosts, and she’s in love with a spy.

When Sarah takes a job with occult expert Dr. Matthew Geisler, he promises to help her understand the sorrowful spirit that seems to have attached itself to her—a spirit whose incessant weeping only she can hear.

Meanwhile, as Sarah struggles to cope with the relentless weeping, she comes face to face with Zeke, the man who left her six months earlier and is ostensibly convalescing from injuries suffered in an alleged accident. But Zeke has secrets of his own, and Sarah’s love and trust are soon put to the test.

Things take an even darker turn when an attempt is made on Geisler’s life, and Sarah finds herself caught in a struggle between the living and the dead. Unsure who she can trust, she must unlock the mystery of the weeping ghost in order to save Dr. Geisler—and herself—from an unknown enemy.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | GoodReads

After he left, I worked straight through until 11:30 and had just put my completed work on Dr. Geisler’s desk when a scream pierced the quietude of my office. I ran out into the corridor and followed the hysterical sounds toward the foyer. Bethany and I met in the hallway. Together we raced toward the noise.

The screaming turned into a hysterical incantation. “No, no. Please. No.”

Minna. She stood near the front door, a black dressing gown flowing over her bony frame like a witch’s cloak. Her hair hung in wild curls the color of spun silver. She looked as though she could have raised her arms and cast a spell or hopped on a broom and flown away. Instead she held a piece of paper in her trembling hand. Scattered around her feet were the petals and stems of a desiccated bouquet of roses, a flower box from Podesta Baldocchi lay on its side, tossed away in the chaos.

Chloe sat at her desk, observing everything, missing nothing, her eyes huge. The maid, a young girl in a uniform two sizes too big, froze, holding the dust rag suspended in midair.

I moved toward Minna, desperate to help her, but Bethany waved me off.

“Minna, what’s wrong?”

“Sarah. Bethany.” She waved the paper she held in her hand through the air. “It’s Gregory. He’s alive.” Her breathing became heavy and deep. She tore the letter up, threw the pieces on the floor, covered her face with her hands, and wept. Deep racking sobs coursed through her body, threatening to topple her.

Bethany swept in and put a comforting arm around Minna’s shoulder. She spoke to her in the same sweet, disarming voice she had used on Mr. Collins. “Come on, dear. Let’s get you someplace safe. We’ll lock the house and make sure that Gregory isn’t here. I’ll see to it personally.” She spoke to the maid. “It’s all right, young lady. Go see Mrs. McDougal for a cup of hot cocoa. There’s a good girl.”

“You’ll protect me, won’t you, Bethany? And Matthew. He’ll come for Matthew.”

“Of course.” Bethany spoke in a soothing voice. “I’ll take care of everything.” Minna allowed herself to be led away. The two women made their way toward the staircase, while Bethany muttered comforting words in Minna’s ear.

Just as they were about to reach the first landing and slip out of sight, Bethany called to me. “Find my husband. Tell him to hurry.”

Before heading off to search for Dr. Geisler, I picked up the torn pieces of paper that Minna had thrown on the floor and tucked them into my pocket. I had every intention of finding out the truth about Gregory Geisler.

Terry-Lynn-Thomas

Originally from the San Francisco Bay Area, Terry Lynn Thomas married the love of her life, who promised to buy her a horse if she relocated to Mississippi with him. Now that she has relocated, she has discovered that she can be happy anywhere as long as she has her man, her horse and time to write. Terry Lynn devoured novels by Mary Stewart, Victoria Holt, and Daphne Du Maurier as a child. These gothic mysteries captured her imagination, never let go, and influence her writing today. When she is not writing or riding her horse, she visits historical houses and cemeteries, hunting for story ideas.

Amazon Author Page | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads

 

Book Blast: Evolution: The Revelation by Jim Reilly

Published February 29, 2016 by admin

Time for another book blast while I prep my other posts for this month!

Evolution-Blast-Banner

 

Evolution

 

Title:  Evolution: The Revelation

Author:   Jim Reilly

Published:  February 28th, 2016

Publisher:   Sayville Books

Genre:  Science Fiction, Fantasy, Religion

The Revelation is  Jim Reilly’s follow-up to his science fiction novel, Evolution. In The  Revelation cloaked Ancient Visitors plan man’s future enslavement for a  menacing purpose. Two groups, one in the present and one a thousand  years in the future, investigate a conspiracy thousands of years in the  making. In the present, Jennifer and David Cho’s son Cameron’s  investigation uncovers a plot to continue what Bishop Terapion started.  In the future, Steven Moran and his team combat the mysterious Prince  and the Ancient Visitor armada heading for Earth

The present and  future look at scripture for clues as they learn the battle is bigger  than all of them. Religion and science are once again at the forefront  and must work together to overcome the Ancient Visitors. Not only are  the people of Earth in peril, but the whole universe is in jeopardy of  eradication from existence. The present and the future discover shrouded  secrets full of mystery needed to be solved to save mankind, but will  it be too late?

The Revelation  explores mankind’s resolve to fight for its future. Will mankind’s fight  be successful or will the Ancient Visitors succeed in enslaving mankind  to supplement their army used for a battle for the heavens? Jim  Reilly’s Evolution explored mankind’s roots. The Revelation explores  where we are going from here

Amazon | GoodReads

31st Century.

 

“Thirty survivors?” asked Steven Moran. “It can’t be! There were only twenty-nine of us!”

He quickly jumped up out of his sickbay bed and grabbed the Super Homo sapiens nurse by the arm, “Can I see the list of survivors? Please, it’s important.”

The enhanced woman waved her hand and a virtual reality image illuminated the list of survivors.

The former Kansas wrestler with Midwestern rugged farm boy features and an impressive muscular physique, even for an enhanced Super Homo sapiens, viewed the list and asked, “Are all of them out of the sleeping pods?”

“Yes…” she replied, with wonder in her voice about his motives.

“That name there, Walter Sikes. He survived?”

“Yes, he’s resting comfortably on a lower deck two floors down.”

“Show me where I can find him?”

She showed him a diagram of the tremendous spacecraft traveling a great distance from Earth. “Why do you want to know about him?”

He dashed out of the ship’s sickbay room without looking back. “Because he died on the mission and shouldn’t be here.”

The nurse sounded the alarm, but Steven was already halfway down the hallway grabbing an orderly to take him on the lift system to get to the right floor and Walter Sikes’ room.

As the lift took him two floors below, a hologram of the ship’s captain, Commander Christine Carroll was projected in front of Steven. “I understand we may have a stowaway?”

“That’s right,” he responded, “I personally witnessed Walter being killed in the initial battle aboard the alien craft.  He was cut down by the mysterious entity ruling the Ancient Visitors, aliens or whatever they were. I helped set every one of the survivors in the sleeping pods when we escaped the Ancient Visitors ship’s destruction. I can, without any doubt, say that Walter was not one of them. Whoever that is, it isn’t Walter Sikes.”

“Well then, we’ll need to talk to Mr. Sikes,” said Commander Christine Carroll, an old by-the-book veteran leader, as she mentally linked the conversation to her security detail. “Please apprehend Walter Sikes for questioning and use extreme caution.”

When Steven reached Walter’s sickbay room, he and the arriving security detail found a pair of unconscious nurses lying on the floor next to the recovery bed.

The leader of the security detail tapped his earpiece linked to his mind and the hologram of the ship’s captain reappeared. “The target is not here and is on the run. He is also not showing up on our sensors.”

As security personnel attended the fallen nurses, Steven looked around at the empty sickbay room.  He detected the holographic screens that were used to scan patients. “How would he escape the ship?”

Without answering Steven, the Captain ordered, “All security personnel report to the transport docking bay immediately.” Images of Walter Sikes began showing in every corner of the ship.

When Steven and the security detail arrived at the docking bay, they were met by the Captain in person who ordered the door of the docking bay to be opened.  When the door wouldn’t open as requested, she ran to the large window looking into the bay. Many of her personnel were scattered along the floor, at the very least, unconscious. It was then that one of the transports powered up and fled the docking bay into space. Without the interior pressure, the transport glided up and out of the docking bay into space. The various unconscious bodies began floating up and out following the transport as the docking bay’s atmosphere was sucked into the darkness of space. Seconds later the wide metal doors shut; the Captain mentally initiated the containment field.

Steven, in all the confusion going on, wondered out loud, “We shouldn’t have come back. Look what we did. We brought one back, and it may be the worst of them all.”

Hearing Steven’s words, the Captain responded, “We’ve had to deal with them in the past, our ancient ancestors had been changed by them. Then there was Bishop Terapion during the Followers of Divinity conflict.  It didn’t stop there as there were others.”

Steven ran his hands over his face and through his hair then said, “There were others?”

As the Captain tracked the ship heading toward Earth on the computer in her mind, she ordered the helmsmen to set a course to intercept and then alerted her communication officer to warn Earth Command.  She then looked at Steven and repeated, “Yes, there were others…”

Jim-Reilly

 

Jim Reilly is the author of science fiction and fantasy novels, Evolution and Seaville. He is a married father of four, born and raised in Long Island. From an early age, Jim always had a fascination with science, religion, and science fiction. He now enjoys leveraging those interests to develop fascinating and unique stories.

Amazon Author Page | Twitter | GoodReads | blog

WeWriWa: Drink Up!

Published November 1, 2015 by admin

Since it’s the day after Halloween, I thought I’d stay with my creepy theme a little longer and give you some horror! Since I love vampires and I love historical fiction, here’s a bit of Mooner to help you recover from your Halloween! And remember – for a look at more authors, be sure to check out weekend writing warriors!

***

“What can I do for you for a drink, boy? I’ve got a terrible thirst.” His teeth glistened wetly and he waited in the middle of the room as if he had all the time in the world.

The entire saloon had gone silent and Bill looked at his feet, uneasy. He could handle himself in a fight well enough if he had to, but he hated to have to. “You’ve got two drinks right there waitin’ for you,” he mumbled.

“Aye, but I’ve got a terrible, terrible thirst,” Tom repeated. “Isn’t there anything you’d like to see me do? I’d do anything, anything for a drink. Anything at all.”

Mooner72dpi

Kindle         Nook      MMP Store

Like many young men at the end of the 1800s, Bill signed on to work in a logging camp. The work is brutal, but it promised a fast paycheck with which he can start his life. Unfortunately, his role model is Big John. Not only is he the camp’s hero, but he’s known for spending his pay as fast as he makes it. On a cold Saturday night they enter Red’s Saloon to forget the work that takes the sweat and lives of so many men their age. Red may have plans for their whiskey money, but something else lurks in the shadows. It watches and badly wants a drink that has nothing to do with alcohol. Can Bill make it back out the shabby door, or does someone else have their own plans for his future?

WeWriWa: The Other Man (or the return of Mrs. Lederhosen)

Published September 13, 2015 by admin

I feel like I’ve done a lot of genre fiction excerpts this week, so for Weekend Writing Warriors let’s briefly revisit one of my literary pieces, The Other Man! One of the things that got me through such a heavy piece was that I included some hilarious interaction with Andrew’s two children…not that I ever acted like this when I was sent to my room at that age ever…no, not me, not at aaaall…

For more short bits of stories, be sure to check out Weekend Writing Warriors!

***

“Hellooooooo!” Both adults turned at a very high-pitched voice and stared as Miranda sauntered into the living room. She was clothed in three dress-up dresses of contrasting patterns and colors, long evening gloves, a pair of Andrew’s old sunglasses, and her Sunday shoes. A wide-brimmed straw hat that had seen better days wobbled on the little girl’s fair head.

Bethany blinked and looked as if she was struggling to remember which parenting manual dealt with the particular situation. “Miranda, what are you–”

“Oh I’m not Miranda,” the little girl laughed in what was supposed to be a grown up voice. “I’m Mrs. Lederhosen! I don’t know how I got into that silly room, but I just had to get out! If it’s all right with you, I’ll go play with Miranda’s toys!”

Andrew dimly wondered whether he was having an out of body experience.

TheOtherMan_72dpi

Amazon       B&N   Mocha Memoirs Press Store

Mocha Memoirs Press

contemporary/drama

All Andrew wanted was the typical American dream: a good career, a nice house, and a loving family. Instead, he has a dead-end job, a cramped apartment, and children who remind him of creatures out of a sci-fi movie. He’s also well aware that he’s not the only man who inhabits his wife’s thoughts and daily life. How can he put up a fight when he’s reminded of the competition every time Bethany turns on the CD player? After one eventful evening meal when expectations, disappointments, and secrets collide, life will never be the same.

Excerpt: Mooner (or vampires and lumberjacks rock my world)

Published September 11, 2015 by admin

Today, I feel like vampires. So vampires it shall be. Well…lumberjacks that run into vampires, because in my world that combination is a beautiful thing and it’s still my birthday week, so there you go. This bit is from Mooner, an e-book title of mine that combines my love of pioneer history with my love of wrecking pioneer history…and also vampires. Because they’re awesome. Basically all you need to know is a group of lumberjacks walk into a bar on their night off, and things spiral downward from there…

***

Nancy shook her head. “I ain’t scared of you and your boys, John, and neither should you be,” she added to Bill. Her rolling eyes were framed by laugh lines, though at the moment her face was stern and cold as a sudden blizzard. “I know how you boys are and don’t think for a minute I approve of you trying to put your ways on a nice young lad like him.”

The men turned a cold shoulder to her like usual. She was only of use to them if she was carrying a loaded tray. Only Bill shot her a sympathetic glance. The older woman tucked a graying curl under her hat and strode off to deliver drinks to the tables. “Don’t you let him get you full, boy. The last thing you need is to depend on them to get you back when you’re dead drunk.”

“Bah, what does she know? C’mon, lad, drink up!” John urged, and his more naïve companion steeled himself before knocking back the firewater. “There you go, Bill! Let’s have another!” he laughed, inhaling his own whiskey before presenting his empty to Red. “To a lucky son of a bitch!” he roared, clapping the younger man across the back so hard the youth bent over the bar top. “You boys won’t believe it, but Bill here has the biggest string of luck you ever saw! I don’t know how many times I’ve looked up and thought he was a goner, almost catching his foot on a tree root running from a falling fir! And don’t get me started on the time I thought he’d fallen to his death while limbing out!”

The boy shrugged with embarrassment and ran a hand through sandy hair. “Either luck or a higher power’s been with me. All I want is enough to send back to Ma and settle down.”

A few of the others sprawled along the bar muttered in disdain. “Don’t have time for no dunghisters,” a craggy-faced logger croaked into his glass, practically spitting the derogatory term for farmer.

For a brief moment a snide glitter crept into Big John’s eyes as he glanced towards the sack clenched tightly in Bill’s fist.

“Settle down! Luck or no, it isn’t a bad idea to be careful,” Red advised, fully knowing that there were plenty who’d take the boy’s decision as an insult to the profession. He was quick to replenish glasses and change the subject. “Besides, it’s not spring yet. Your pal Joe closed the door and ended up a resident of the undertaker’s down the road last Saturday.”

For once John blanched and set his drink back on the bar. “I thought he just went out to get his teeth fixed!”

Red rolled his eyes. “A man would have to be desperate to travel ten miles to the nearest girl house in this kind of cold.”

Bill’s shock reached him through the warm haze of the whiskey. “Was he sluiced?”

“Well he didn’t just drop dead!” The barkeep shook his head and snapped his fingers at the youth employed to keep the peace. “Jack, you missed one! Lars has his caulks on and I don’t want no cases of smallpox in my saloon, you hear me?”

They watched as the local youth encouraged the sawyer out the door. After a few moments the Norwegian returned, sans his spiked boots, cursing the air blue.

“They don’t know what got him,” Red mumbled. “He was found outside last Saturday night after I closed, blood all over the snow.”

“Caulks don’t do that,” Bill offered for lack of something better to say.

“Boy, a knife couldn’t even do that. Catcher’s ax, maybe. Half his chest was ripped out and strung from one end of the street to the other.”

Bill shuddered in the heavy warmth of his bright green mackinaw and grabbed for the glass that John had shoved towards him. “What the devil could do that to a man?” he murmured, the alcohol slowly warming the chill of fear away.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen a lot in my time, and it’s probably a fluke. Can’t be helped, at any rate.” John’s mutter was dark as he scanned the room in search of some new amusement. His younger friend’s gaze drifted as well, and he rested his sack on the bar to keep it in sight.

For a moment Bill thought he was imagining things or was having a particularly bad reaction to the rotgut. Blinking a few times refocused his tired gaze and proved that there was, indeed, a moving pile of…something at a table close to the other end of the bar.

Mooner72dpi

Kindle         Nook      MMP Store

Like many young men at the end of the 1800s, Bill signed on to work in a logging camp. The work is brutal, but it promised a fast paycheck with which he can start his life. Unfortunately, his role model is Big John. Not only is he the camp’s hero, but he’s known for spending his pay as fast as he makes it. On a cold Saturday night they enter Red’s Saloon to forget the work that takes the sweat and lives of so many men their age. Red may have plans for their whiskey money, but something else lurks in the shadows. It watches and badly wants a drink that has nothing to do with alcohol. Can Bill make it back out the shabby door, or does someone else have their own plans for his future?

Wanna talk vampires with me? I’m in Louisville all weekend at the Imaginarium Convention!

Also, don’t forget to enter the Night Owl Reviews summer scavenger hunt…the hidden word on my blog miiiight be under one of the links at the top of the page.