I Died on Page 27

I died on page 27. Depending on how the publisher laid out this particular copy of the story, you may discover I actually passed away on page 36 or 43. Or you may be reading this on my blog. If you are, watch out because I'm not sure if I had a virus or a bacterial infection. In the event of the story appearing in an anthology, you may first find my dead body on page 342 or 296. In a literary magazine, depend on finding me sprawled out in a bloody mess on page 83. No matter, the point is I’m dead. For the record, I lied about the virus and bacterial infection thing above. Never trust an untrustworthy narrator even if he is dead.

Shot in the head. And I haven’t the foggiest who did it. Do you know? Of course not because I haven’t told you yet. You see the Catch 22 here, don’t you? If I don’t know who offed me, and I’m the only one who can tell you or at least deposit sufficient clues for you to follow, well, then you see the murderer or murderers got clean away with it, didn’t they? And we can’t have that. So where do we go from here? Well, page 2 for a starter. Let’s see if we can’t work together to solve this thing somehow based on the few details I remember from my sordid but happy life. Don't pay any attention to that smoking Glock in my dead right hand. Myrtle Beanbaum placed it there to throw us off. Didn't she?

THE END


Molly and Jack

Molly, did you read Snpgrdxz?

Which one, Jack?

The first one, Snpgrdxz and the Time Monsters.

Finished it last week. Why?

So did you read read the second one?

You mean Snpgrdxz and the Time Warriors? The one you told me about last week and I quote: With the troll zombies behind them and nosferatu, werewolves and worse in front of them, Bryan Ganarski and Jennifer Hawkins rush headlong into a romantic, fast-paced misadventure. Joining them on the journey are Gilbert, Tony, CJ and the rest of the gang, including Snpgrdxz, the teenaged space alien shape shifter who can be either a boy or girl depending on his or her mood. Little do they know what monsters await. Is Bryan still totally insane or is there a part of him that can fall in love with the right version of his time-traveling girlfriend? With hormones, earther and other, flying high, will these intrepid time warriors find their way home or become stuck in yet another out-of-time calamity?

That's it.

Well, don't just sit there. Click here and buy Snpgrdxz and the Time Warriors. 

So Jack, do  you think Myrtle Beanbaum killed that dead guy in the story up top?

Betcha he killed himself. With an ego that big he has to be the killer.

I'm not so sure.

Just click here and buy Snpgrdxz and the Time Warriors. 

Click.

Moving My Writer's Group to Wheaton

The Write Time Writers Group will move our meetings from Geneva to Vineyard Church of DuPage in Wheaton starting Thursday, October 12, 2017. Meetings run from 7:30 pm to 9 pm. I lead the group with a focus on helping members perfect their craft through workshops, writing exercises and critiques. There is no cost for membership. Established in 2004, the group meets regularly on the second and fourth Thursdays each month and welcomes writers of all ages and levels of experience from teens through seniors. Vineyard Church of DuPage is located at 1900 Manchester Rd, Wheaton, IL 60187.

Please visit my author's page on Amazon to purchase my novels and short fiction. Click here.

Favorite Halloween Posts

As it turns out, I haven’t posted a scary story on Halloween on the blog. Instead, here are three past posts for your consideration for your Halloween reading.

Not Just Any Ghost
Rediscovering the Ring
How can a Christian write a story where a character commits a murder?

Among my novels, Hags, Steel Pennies and the Snpgrdxz series should tickle your scary bone. Save Fulfillment for your Christmas season reading.

I would be honored if you chose one of my stories for your next reading experience. If you do, please let me know how you enjoyed it by commenting below or on Amazon. I also enjoy hearing from readers at my author’s email address which is paul dot lloyd dot author at gmail dot com. (Thanks for taking time to figure out that email address so I don’t have to worry about the spider bots getting me.)

Be sure to click on the BOGO button above for my latest buy one, get one free book offer.

Where is The Promise Garden?

If you started to read my novel The Promise Garden on this blog, but didn’t finish it, you may be curious to know where it went. The answer is simple: I took it down to prepare it for publication. It will be released in the near future for Kindle and paperback versions on Amazon.

In the meantime, I’ll return to this blog with more fiction soon. And if you haven’t read my other novels yet, please click here to visit my author page on Amazon. I encourage you to click on the book cover shown on Amazon to read several chapters of any of my novels before you buy. Usually, if the preview holds your interest, the novel will too.

My most popular novel so far is Hags with Fulfillment a close second. I find this interesting because Steel Pennies is the one I expected to achieve the greatest success. If you want to know why Steel Pennies is a must read, please click over to Amazon and read the free portion. Steel Pennies simply holds your attention and doesn’t let go. Click here to check it out.

My most popular short story so far is Little Miss Forgotten. I believe it’s the title that grabs people’s attention. Little Miss Forgotten is a fun story about war, peace, death and slumming angels. It’s a love story set in the Vietnam era, but don’t let the time stop you. Little Miss Forgotten is a timeless love story you’ll enjoy. Another story, one that readers often overlook in selecting one to purchase, is Egbert. Egbert is Chicago’s most unlikely vampire and a fun read.

Where do you locate the monsters?

You can place a story in a real location as I did by setting Steel Pennies in West Chester, Pennsylvania, and Hags in Naperville, Illinois. My other novel, Fulfillment, is set in the first century in ancient Israel. My Jude Nerdworthy short story series is set in Warrenville, Illinois.

Some authors like to make up their own world, either as a realistic place such as Winesburg, Ohio, or one of imagination such as the shire of the Hobbits. In my current work in progress, I have both the real and the fantastic. The novel is set in Wheaton, Illinois, but quickly takes the main characters on a journey into a fantastic underworld inhabited by a vicious group of trolls and other monsters.

Location sets the mood of the story. Hemingway wrote about seeking a “clean, well-lighted place” but his characters never quite find it until one goes fishing on the Big Two-Hearted River. Hemingway’s dark bars and apartments set a tone of decay and depression in a fallen world. That mood carries over into his brooding characters.

A happy place does the same thing. Oz sets a joyful mood to support a lighthearted scarecrow, tin woodsman and cowardly lion. But the location changes when the main characters have to face the wicked witch in a dark, scary castle.

My feature novel this month is Hags. It is set in a real location, the city of Naperville, Illinois, with side trips to Warrenville, Oak Brook and Chicago. The places may exist in the real world, but the story takes place in the realm of the fantastic as faeries, demons and hags populate a story filled with mystery as Micah Probert seeks two serial killers in a quest to clear his name. The Kindle version has been reduced to $.99 this month. For the Kindle or paperback versions, please click here.

Passing the First Sentence Test

How do you decide which book to read? You’re browsing the shelves of the local bookstore or the electronic shelves of Amazon for your next read. How do you choose?

If a friend says, “Hey, you have to read this book,” I’m likely to check it out. As an author, I meet other authors online or at book festivals. I like to browse the Kindle shelves for the tomes these other authors produce.

No matter how I find a book, I make my purchase selection based on the first sentence. I enjoy reading the blurb in the Description section on Amazon and on the back cover if I visit a bookstore. But for me it’s about that first sentence. I call it the first sentence test. The big question is: Does the first sentence grab me.

A long time ago in a career far away, I wrote, “Quality writing grabs your attention and doesn’t let go until your message is delivered and understood.” At the time, I was writing about advertising copy, but the truth is it applies so well to fiction.

Now, it’s your turn to judge a first sentence. This is how I open my horror novel Hags:

From the mattress on the floor of the back bedroom of his antique Victorian fixer-upper, Micah Probert heard a far off scream.

Are you curious? Does this sentence make you want to know where the scream came from? If you do, then consider the second test of a good novel – the first paragraph test. Here’s the entire first paragraph of Hags:

From the mattress on the floor of the back bedroom of his antique Victorian fixer-upper, Micah Probert heard a far off scream. An equally distant clang of heavy metal followed. Then two muffled voices, a male and a female. The sound of feet scampering followed by a loud buzz made Micah picture a prehistoric dragonfly. Then came the silence.

Does the first paragraph of Hags snag your interest? Do you want to know what happens next? If yes, then Hags passed your first paragraph test.

While some authors prefer to set the stage for a few paragraphs or pages before the action begins, others, myself included, prefer to start in the middle of the action and then catch you up on the details as the story charges ahead.  It’s a matter of taste.

If you would like to know what happens next in Hags, click here. Only $.99 this month.

The Dead Werewolf’s Rant

I’m dead, not undead, not a zombie, not a vampire. I’m dead, plain old dead-as-a-doornail dead. Let me explain while my body transforms from the wolf state back into something resembling a dead human.

I was minding my own business in the front yard howling at the full moon the way I did every month. I heard a loud pop and felt a sharp pain in my chest. Since werewolves rarely have a heart attack, I figured right away it was a silver bullet. Sure enough, that weird kid down the street came charging over to me with guns blazing. Where does a nineteen-year-old semi-hermit accumulate enough silver for a fistful of automatic weapons clips?

I bled out long before the police arrived. And that silver dissolved my heart along with half my chest cavity by the time the flashing ambulance lights spun down my street.

No, I’m not going to be revived. Dead werewolves return to their human state for the funeral. The end. All she wrote. But before I leave this life, I want to warn you mothers out there to beware of your sons.

You  know the boys I’m talking about. They’re between about fifteen and thirty. They’re peculiar. I know you’re in denial. I can hear you right now saying, “There’s nothing wrong with my Harry. He just hasn’t found himself yet.”

You, lady, are in denial about your son. If he is on medication, if his brain doesn’t work the same way as most people’s brains, if he is the loner type, if he is this stranger in your home, please, for all our sakes, get the guns out of the house.

Yes, your husband has the right to bear arms. And he has a right to defend his home. But he also has the right to use a little commonsense. If the kid just ain’t right, get the guns out of the house. Stash them at Aunt Edna’s home or in a storage locker away from the kid.

Okay, I know you’re saying your child is a sweet boy, really, and would never harm anyone. And you’re about to tell me that young people with his particular condition are never violent. But, mom, that’s exactly what those other moms said in Colorado and Connecticut and Arizona and wherever else some sweet, innocent, but slightly deranged young man opened fire on a crowd of equally young, innocent and normally arranged people.

And it’s not just people. I was a werewolf for crying out in the light of the moon. Give me a break. Who gives a hoot about werewolves? It’s not like we hurt anyone, right? We just howl once a month. And okay, maybe we’re a little aggressive at the meat counter and always order our hamburgers extra raw, but is that any reason to shoot a werewolf?

Well, it’s too late to give me a break, but give the kindergarten children in your neighborhood a break by getting those guns out of the house. And the silver. Do you know where your silver is at this moment? Jerrold Slimpnickel’s mother thought her silver was in the dining room in that drawer in the middle of her china cabinet. Turns out her silver was melted down six months ago in the basement and made into silver bullets for killing werewolves like the late me.

Your boy will thank you later when his only friend, Norman Boingbanger, gets arrested on the way to your local elementary school with a boatload of his dad’s automatic rifles. So yeah, hide the silver and get those guns out of the house.

THE END 

Quotable
"She placed her left hand on my right cheek, the one on my face."
Paul R. Lloyd
Steel Pennies
    

Networking with Hobgoblins

When Merrimat’s pickup shook from bumper to bumper, he pulled over and spotted six little people, each about two-feet tall, crawling out from under his truck. The laughing little critters sprinted into the cornfield adjacent to the road.

While charging after the diminutive culprits, Merrimat clicked on his cell phone and attempted to engage its onboard video camera. Despite hitting the right button, the darn thing wouldn’t come up. On the fourth try, he spotted the cornstalks dashing by on his screen, but it was vertical format. He turned his smart phone sideways and waited for his screen to adjust.

And waited.

He kept running while waiting.

He arrived at a place in the cornfield that reminded him a those corn mazes farmers create to earn extra money at Halloween. His video camera adjusted to the horizontal so he was able to shoot excellent cell phone quality video of the crop circle and several pathways leading out of the maze or maize depending on your preference.

Merrimat heard laughter to his left and followed the path in that direction. He came to a junction, turned left on nothing more than a gut feeling. Fifty yards later he arrived at a smaller crop circle with a half dozen of the ugly little scamps milling about. They brewed coffee over a camp fire.

“Who are you people?” Mirrimat asked.

“Don’t insult us, please, human,” declared one of the tiny folk.

“Sorry. What are you?” Mirrimat asked.

“Much better. We’re hobgoblins. What did you think we were? Trolls?” The little fellow appeared to be the leader because he talked while the others kept their own counsel and he was a bit huskier than the others.

Merrimat shrugged. “I simply didn’t know. That’s why I asked. Have you always been in this neighborhood?”

“Our kind always live right in the same neighborhoods as you humans.” the hobgoblin leader passed coffee to Merrimat in an old fashioned six ounce cup of dainty china. 

“Why did you shake my car?” Mirrimat sipped the coffee. It was dark roast with a hint of exotic spices and campfire charcoal.

“We wanted to get your attention. We need to speak with you,” said the lead hobgoblin.

“What about?” Mirrimat asked.

“Are you prepared for retirement? What would happen to your family if you should pass away? Would they have the financial security they need? Let’s talk about your financial future.”

Mirrimat ran screaming from the field not bothering to follow the path laid down by the hobgoblins. On the way he kept thinking about how he must warn the others. He hoped the cellphone video turned out because he doubted anyone would believe his story.

He was wrong, of course. Turned out his friends all knew about financial planners.

THE END 

Quotable
"The aroma of dead flesh became worse as I approached Penny."
Paul R. Lloyd
Steel Pennies
    

I’m a Were What?

Doctor Blutmeister said, “Roger, it only took ninety stitches to close your wound. And you arrived at the ER a good thirty or forty seconds before you would have bled out.”

 Janice Bingbuster stayed with me. Some Saturday night date that was.

When Janice bit me earlier that evening, she apologized profusely. At the time, I thought her apology over the top until I placed my hand on my wound and felt the blood gushing. And yes, she was definitely chewing as she drove my car to the emergency room.

I planned to have her drive me home after the ER visit and my overnight hospital room hangout. But when I awoke around noon, my pal Vernon stared me in the face. He volunteered to drive me home.

Vernon had that far away, thoughtful look he gets right before his Cousin Janice visits. “There’s something I have to tell you, Roger.”

“No need to apologize. Your cousin already covered that with profuse sorrow and lots of kissing while chewing.”

“That reminds me. Do you have any toothpicks?” Vernon glanced my way.

“In my car?”

“Never mind. I have something I have to tell you, and it can’t wait.” Vernon gazed back at the road.

“What is it?” I asked.

“You know me as Vernon Bingbuster, and I trust you consider me a friend.”

“I do. You’re the best, but this is old news.” I adjusted the bandage around my neck.

“And you like Cousin Janice despite her propensity for deep nibbling?”

“This may surprise you considering the depth of my wound, but yes, I like your cousin very much. What’s not to like? She’s beautiful. She’s kind. And she’s smart. So what if she clamps down a little hard during a make out session. We’re young. We’ll both get better with experience.”

Vernon took his eyes off the road to stare at me. “The problem, Roger, is you know both of us.”

I glared at the pickup stopped in front of us. “How’s that a problem?”

“Haven’t you wondered why you only see Cousin Janice once a month?” Vernon faced forward and slammed on the brakes.

“That’s because she only visits you and your mom once a month. She lives like four states away, right?”

“That’s my cover story.” Vernon waited for the pickup to move on before continuing. 

“It is?” The aroma of blood from my wound filled my nostrils along with an unhealthy amount of stone cold fear.

Vernon pulled the car to the curb and stopped. “I’m only telling you this because of the accident, the bite. Most of the time I’m your friend Vernon Bingbuster, but during the full moon, I’m Cousin Janice.”

“What?” I backed against the passenger door. “I’m on painkillers so I’m not sure I heard you right or even why I would want to hear what I just heard.”

Vernon shifted in his seat so that he faced me on the passenger side. “I’m a werewoman, Roger.”

“What is that exactly, a female wolf?” My head spun from Vicodin and weird news.

“Roger, don’t you get it? I’m a guy who turns into a sexy girl whenever the moon is full. I bit you so guess what?”

“I might get rabbis?” I cranked my head to one side trying to think, but I must have stretched the stitches because a sharp pain shot through my wound.

“You’re now a werewoman, too.”

“I’m a what? Vicodin doesn’t affect hearing, does it?”

After Vernon walked me to my door, I attributed the conversation to the painkillers from Doctor Blutmeister and any lingering drug abuse on the part of the blood donors who provided for my several transfusions. If Vernon was telling the truth, that meant I kissed a guy. I went upstairs and threw up.

As the weeks passed, I worried more about my future and less about boy lips. What would happen to me during the next full moon? I watched the evening sky, but most nights were cloudy in our neighborhood. I tried talking to Vernon Bingbuster about his Cousin Janice, but he claimed he didn’t know what I was talking about.

In case something were to happen on the next full moon, I spread the word on Twitter that my cousin Rhoda was coming to town. Vernon tweeted me that he thought my cousin might make a great friend for Cousin Janice the next time she was in town. Now, I’m the only guy I know, besides Vernon, who has to worry about a monthly visit from his “friend.”

THE END

Quotable
"Wickedness attracted and scared us at the same time"
Paul R. Lloyd
Steel Pennies

Steel Pennies

My new novel – STEEL PENNIES – is ready for purchase on Amazon for your Kindle reader. The paperback version will be ready in a few days. 

Set in 1960 in a working class neighborhood of West Chester, a small Pennsylvania town, Steel Pennies is racially-charged murder, mayhem and mischief wrapped around a teen romance gone wild. When teenagers Tommy McConnell and Bob Durkin discover the body of a long missing neighborhood girl, a series of killings ensues. As the body count mounts, will Tommy and his friends learn the identity of the killer before his girlfriend becomes the next victim?  

Steel Pennies explores racial tension and forbidden love during the early days of the civil rights movement. It examines the mystery of coming of age in a love story that turns Romeo and Juliet on its head. Laugh, cry and remember the struggles that brought America together as one people as you read my new novel – Steel Pennies.

What People Are Saying About Steel Pennies
“Machine-gun sentences.  Fast.  Intense.  Mickey Spillane-style.  No way around it.  Paul R. Lloyd is a top-notch noir writer.  Top-notch.”
Thomas Phillips author of Molech Prophecy—describing Steel Pennies by Paul R. Lloyd…

“I predict it will win awards and become assigned reading in high school, with the benefit that it will be a book that students will want to read. I loved this.”
Judge’s written comment on Steel Pennies in The Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense Unpublished Division.

BTW, PLEASE DON’T REVEAL THE BLOCKBUSTER ENDING!

You can read a chunk of Steel Pennies on Amazon by clicking here.

Return on Monday to read my new short fiction.

Killer Crowds

Have you ever watched one of those old films of city street scenes shot more than a century ago? The people are scurrying about like folks today in our big cities. The clothes are different. The cars and horse-drawn buggies are ancient. The brick and stone buildings in those flashing images have been replaced with ever higher glass and steel towers. But the action of the people is still the same. City life is, and always has been, about hustle and bustle.

Have you ever wondered where all those people in those old films are today? The simple answer is they are dead. But are they? Where do the people go who once hurried about our city streets?

I have seen people come and go for a decade in Philadelphia and multiple decades in Chicago. My travels, business and personal, have taken me to Boston, New York, Washington, Atlanta, Dallas, Denver, El Paso, Tucson, Detroit, Cleveland, Seattle and other great cities. The scene is always the same. Even in Canada, where I have visited Montreal, Toronto, Winnipeg, Calgary and their other cities I have witnessed the phenomenon: people in motion.

But where do they go?
Chicago, where I have spent the most time studying this mystery, makes a great example. The people scurrying about the Loop today are not the same people who labored there a generation ago. Where did those other folks disappear to?

I asked people in my business network. Their answers can be summed up in four words: “home, retirement, Florida, death.”

But do they really go to those places?

Try this experiment
Follow someone you see on the street in the evening rush hour when a mass of humanity heads for the train station. It doesn’t matter which city you’re in. Pick a person and follow him or her. Most of the time that person will simply disappear into the crowd and you will never see her again. Where did she go?

The mystery of the vanishing horde has haunted me these many decades. I have followed thousands of individuals. Pick the right person on the correct day and you’ll tail them right to their train. Those folks went home for dinner that night. But what about the people who vanished into the crowd right before your eyes? You watched them walking not more than 10 paces in front of you when suddenly they were nowhere to be seen.

Where did they go?

Two theories
In the interest of science (fiction and otherwise), I humbly offer two theories for further development by you or an expert of your choice:

Transcendental Departure: Could it be that when our time in the city is up and our business tasks are performed enough for one lifetime, we disappear into the crowd? We in effect become part of the crowd or one with the crowd. We are absorbed into the crowd. Our essence, our personhood, is distributed to the other individuals who make up the crowd. Our essence invigorates and strengthens the crowd, but at the price of our individual existence.

Adult Rebirth: Perhaps we become someone else as we are absorbed into the crowd. At one end of the mass sea of heads bobbing up in down to form a wave pattern, we vanish unnoticed by our casual passerby neighbors intent on making their homeward train on time. At the other end of the crowd, someone emerges, new and vigorous from our essence, someone you have never seen before. Meanwhile, no one in the city remembers you once you have vanished forever into the crowd.

A possible third theory? Beam me up, Scotty.

Read Hags for Free Now – Offer ends Today
Today is the last day to receive of free copy of my horror novel Hags for free from Amazon for your Kindle reader. Download it by clicking here.

If you prefer the paperback version of Hags, you may purchase it by following the same link above.

After you read Hags, please give it a 5-Star review on Amazon. Thanks.

Don’t have a Kindle reader? Download the free version for your computer or smart phone from Amazon by clicking here.

Here’s another novel idea…
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Don’t Cry Over Spilt…

Police Detective Larson’s Irish green eyes didn’t light up when Primerot explained the reason for our late night gatherings of the Fox River Writers Group. Larson apparently had no experience with horror novels or the creatures who create them. His interest was that huge blood stain to the right of the bar at Murphy’s tap in St. Charles.

Morty the barkeep tried to explain that it was his fault the blood was spilled, but Larson didn’t get it. What’s not to get? We all have our little accidents. People are so data-focused these days, not like frontier times when a little bloodletting was a normal part of life and nobody much cared unless it was their own blood.

When Larson asked to see the liquor license, Morty laughed. “I don’t sell alcoholic beverages in this establishment, detective.”

“What do you sell?” Larson rubbed his hand across the pull tap for one of the kegs under the bar.

The rest of us laughed except Primerot who took notes for her new novel Bloodlust.

I tried to be helpful. “You may have noticed, Detective Larson, that we are not exactly like the people you meet every day in your job.”

Larson had enough of us. “Pour a glass of whatever brew you have in this keg.”

Morty snatched a beer mug from the warmer oven. He raised the glass high in the air. Our entire writer’s group including Primerot, Nosebuster, Suckbreath, Dimsnort and me craned our necks with eyes the size of silver dollars, for those of you who remember silver dollars. Anyway, they’re big.

Morty grinned a little wider than most people’s mouths will allow. This little trick made Larson’s eyes light up. Certain he had the detective’s attention; Morty pulled the tap, filling it with red joy.

“What is that? Some kind of wine?” Larson had not yet made the connection between the sweet aroma of fresh kill and the rubicund liquid Morty handed to him.

The link became obvious when Larson gawked in our direction. We, who couldn’t resist that flavorful scent, had our mouths open wide enough to expose the full length of our three-inch needle sharp incisors.

Larson pulled his handgun. I think it was a Glock, but what do I know of weapons other than my own fangs? As for the blood stain on the floor, Larson should have arrived earlier when we wrestled for the privilege of licking it up.

Despite Larson’s tough guy exterior, we each had a share with Primerot taking the devil’s portion. She is, after all, our leader.

Read Hags for Free Now – Offer ends March 15, 2013
Download Hags for free this week only from Amazon for your Kindle reader by clicking here.

After you read Hags, please give it a 5-Star review on Amazon. Thanks.

Don’t have a Kindle reader? Download the free version for your computer or smart phone from Amazon by clicking here.

Here’s another novel idea…
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Evil Incarnate at Your Local Coffee Shop

Ted Wilson had no intention of kissing a vampire hag full on the lips when he entered the coffee shop earlier than usual yesterday morning. With the local Twilight Coffee Shoppe operating a 24-hour Latte and Leave service, Ted knew he could caffeinate on the 50-minute drive down the Reagan to the Eisenhower to the Loop. Fifty minutes if you left before the morning rush which explained his stop at the Twilight Coffee Shoppe.

When the tall, extremely pale barista asked if he wanted the usual, Ted moaned yes, but when he opened the plastic top to pour in a little almond-flavored imitation creamer, he did not expect to see a blood-red brew.

“What’s this?” he inquired.

The barista flashed a toothy grin before announcing, “Oops, that one’s mine.”

Ted snagged the correct brew cup and slid his debit card through the machine. He headed for the door without the almond-flavored imitation creamer.

“Wait,” said the barista. “Please allow me to apologize profusely for the error. Entirely my fault.”

Ted, who by this time had a hand on the front door, spun about. “No problem.” He didn’t see the barista so he shrugged. When he turned to leave, he bumped into her.

“When I say apologizes profusely, darling, I mean profusely.” The barista planted her ample lips firmly over Ted’s.

Ted was not one to mind a pair of warm female lips connected to his own, but they must be warm. The barista’s lips were as cold as Italian sausage yanked from the refrigerator, not that Ted ever kissed a cold Italian sausage. He preferred his meat hot, juicy and well done, but that’s another story for a different sort of blog than this one.

When the barista pulled back from the kiss, Ted noticed her fangs. It’s hard to miss a pair of three-inch upper incisors on a woman whose beauty is in the range of oh… let’s say Morticia Addams.

“What the…” Ted began to say before he was interrupted by the insertion of the barista’s incisors into his jugular vein.

As I said, that was yesterday morning before sunrise. This evening, Ted returned to the Latte and Leave.

“Usual?” the tall, pale barista asked.

“Yes, the usual,” replied Ted.

Read Hags for Free Now – Offer ends March 15, 2013
Download Hags for free this week only from Amazon for your Kindle reader by clicking here.

After you read Hags, please give it a 5-Star review on Amazon. Thanks.

Don’t have a Kindle reader? Download the free version for your computer or smart phone from Amazon by clicking here.

Here’s another novel idea…
Enjoy this blog post? Please share it with your friends by clicking the social media buttons below.

Are You Afraid?

Scary, invisible things haunt your soul and keep you from the life you deserve. But what happens when one of those frightening creatures turns visible, for your eyes only? Creepy, right?

You’re alone in your bedroom, late at night with the lights on because you’re reading a horror story (like my Hags). The window flies open and something flaps its way into your room. Is it a bat? Or is it a mist on the wind?

What does the vapor shape into while it floats above your bed at midnight? The eyes, red and glowing like coals, appear first. Then a long, green nose slithers out of the haze. The rest of the face follows. You’re staring at a hag older than humankind.

You pull the covers over your head in hopes the creature will vanish by sunrise. As you contemplate your fate, you consider the value of praying to a God you’re not sure you believe in, just in case the thing in your room is real. Because if it is, then maybe there’s more to this God thing than meets your busy eyeballs. That’s when you hear the bump.

You pull the covers down from your face as you summon the courage to peek at the hag in your midnight bedroom. But there is no hag, only the wind through your open window, billowing curtains, and your paperback copy of Hags on the floor where it landed after that last big gust.

You close your eyes, snuggle into your pillow, and wait in the dark for what you know always comes next. 

Read Hags for Free Now – Offer ends March 15, 2013
Download Hags for free this week only from Amazon for your Kindle reader by clicking here.

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Here’s another novel idea…
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Hags: Kindle Free Today Until Friday

Hags is my horror novel set in Naperville, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago. For the next five days you can download a free copy for your Amazon Kindle. And if you don’t have a Kindle, you can download the Kindle Reader software free for your computer, smart phone or tablet. If you prefer the paperback version, it’s available for purchase on Amazon.

As one of my Amazon critics wrote:
“For a story dealing with such dark topics, Hags surprised me with its genuine humor. Once all the pieces are on the table, the story has a very distinctive and clever personality that flows quickly…. you'll find Hags a delightful read that may have something to say about fear, lust, greed, brokenness and most importantly, redemption.”

If you read a chunk of Hags on my blog the past several weeks, you know that Micah Probert is an ex-con who wants to clear his name after 15 years in prison for a rape he insists he didn’t commit. For this reason, Micah returns to his hometown of Naperville, Illinois, where he starts his first day by discovering a human-sized faerie flitting about in his backyard, a dead body in the parking lot behind his house, a pioneer ghost in his kitchen, and a local coffee shop that serves the darkest brew this side of Hades. Mix in a few black secrets, a couple of serial killers, a hot romance or two, and this novel takes you deep into the heart of horror in the suburbs.

I’m happy to offer this five-day free download of Hags. Here’s how we can make your Hags experience a win-win for both of us:

1. Click here to download your free copy of Hags from Amazon. Act by Friday, March 15, 2013, the last day of this free offer.
2. Read Hags and enjoy.

When you are finished reading Hags, please do the following:

1. Recommend it to your friends
2. Give it a five-star review on Amazon. This is important because five-star reviews help to sell books.

Read Hags for Free Now
Download Hags for free this week only from Amazon for your Kindle reader by clicking here.

Don’t have a Kindle reader? Download the free version for your computer or smart phone from Amazon by clicking here.

Here’s another novel idea…
Enjoy this blog post? Please share it with your friends by clicking the social media buttons below.

Hags Episode 20

Do you want to start at the beginning of this series? Click here.

Denise knelt to receive her cat. She lifted her head to face Micah. “How do you know so much about the intellectual capacity of criminals?”

“I spent a huge chunk of my life among thieves, robbers, murderers and rapists.”

“Were you one of them?” Denise picked up Fritz.

“I served time with them.”

Denise stood up with Fritz in her arms. “What are you doing way out here, you naughty thing.”

“Ummm, strolling with you, remember? It was your idea.” Micah folded his arms across his chest.

“I meant the cat.”

“I know.”

“Which were you in for?”

“Rape.”

Denise stared bullets into Micah’s eyes. She dropped Fritz and punched Micah so hard in the ribs that he had to sidestep several times to avoid falling over. Fritz ran towards the trees.

Micah grabbed his ribcage and glared at Denise with his mouth open and his eyes wide. “You promised not to hit me again and besides, did I say I was guilty?”

“How could you do such a thing?”

“Did you hear me?”

Denise pointed an accusing finger in Micah’s face. “All criminals claim they’re innocent.”

“I was.”

“You mean some girl made up a story about you raping her just for the fun of it?”

“She made up the story.”

“For the fun of it?” Denise’s finger touched Micah’s nose.

He stepped back. “I have no idea why she did it. I thought she liked me.”

Denise placed her hands on her hips. “She allowed you to go to prison based on a lie?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t believe you. You must have done something.” Denise folded her arms in front of her.

Micah scratched the top of his head. “I’ve asked myself what I could have done for her to call it rape, and I never came up with an answer.”

“A girl knows when she is raped, Micah.”

Micah scratched his head. “She was only fourteen, but yeah, she sure knew how to describe it in detail at the trial.”

“You must have hurt her.”

“Fell in love with her older sister.”

“You cheated on her?”

“No. I mean I dated the older sister. Then one day the little sister announced I had raped her. Next thing, I was in jail. Then a trial. My word against hers. Jury believed her. I got ten-to-fifteen. Parole board refused parole. It was such a horrible crime because she was jailbait, and I never acknowledged my guilt, so I served the full fifteen.”

Denise placed her hands in her pockets. “She never recanted her story?”

“Nope.”

“You must have done something.”

Micah grabbed Denise by the shoulders. “Yeah, I lived with real thieves, robbers, murderers and rapists.”

Denise shoved him away.

The End of this preview set of episodes. But the story isn't over yet.

Read the rest of Hags during the big Hags giveaway
Download the Kindle version of Hags free between March 11 - 15, 2013 by clicking here.

If you don't want to wait for a free copy of Hags, or you are reading this after March 15, 2013, purchase the paperback or Kindle version right now by clicking here.

Thanks for reading these blog episodes. Be sure to tell your friends about it. And as always, I greatly appreciate your 5-Star Reviews on Amazon.

Another Big Announcement
Return to my blog next week for a huge announcement regarding the upcoming release of my new novel.

Hags Episode 19

Do you want to start at the beginning of this series? Click here.

“Do you think he killed her here or just dumped the body?” Denise Appleby touched Micah’s arm while batting her blue eyes.

Micah kicked a small granite stone on the dirt path that ran through a meadow located in the forest preserve in Warrenville. The couple faced the east side of the narrow muddy track where yellow police tape outlined an area twenty-five feet on a side.

“The TV news guy said it happened here.” Micah pulled Denise close to him.

Denise gazed into Micah’s brown eyes and pointed at the police tape. “A smart criminal would have buried her to hide the evidence.”

Micah waved an arm at the crime scene. It smelled of innocent forest preserve greenery. “Her killer left her for a Forest Preserve policeman to discover on his rounds.

Denise stepped over the police tape. “Sounds like a rape gone bad. If he had planned to kill her, he would have brought a shovel to bury her with.”

Micah grabbed her arm to pull her back. Robins whistled in the trees.

Denise swung her arm free and giggled as she stepped out of Micah’s reach. “He didn’t cut her. There’s no blood.”

“Probably choked her. Hard to tell with the body hauled in for the autopsy. If he stabbed her somewhere else, there wouldn’t be much in the way of blood here.”

Denise shuttered and returned to Micah. She leaned close to him across the tape. “Poor girl. She was just a kid. Such a waste.”

“High school senior according to the news reports.” Micah put his arms around Denise and rubbed her back.

“The police may not have any clues.”

“They have clues. Criminals are amazingly stupid. They leave a little something behind. A footprint. A fingerprint. Telltale body fluids.”

Denise pulled back from Micah. “Yech! Let’s not talk about it, okay?”

“Sounds good to me.” Micah took her hand and urged her back across the police tape. His eyes wandered along the open ground. “Isn’t that Fritz?”

“Where?”

“Look through those oaks to that weedy area.” Micah pointed towards some underbrush.

Denise took a step away from Micah and placed her hands on her hips. “Fritz! Here, Fritz. Kitty, kitty, kitty.”

Fritz ran to his mistress.

Click here to continue reading Hags...

The big Hags giveaway
Download the Kindle version of Hags free between March 11 - 15, 2013.

If you don't want to wait for a free copy of Hags, purchase the paperback or Kindle version right now by clicking here.

Hags Episode 18

Do you want to start at the beginning of this series? Click here.

After many years of entertaining young ladies in need of a little assistance with their grades, the thought of something new to explore about himself tickled Dr. Lionel Langdon, principal of Ulysses S. Grant High School (“Your principal is your pal”). Taking advantage of senior class girls (always after their eighteenth birthday, mind you) had become boring in recent years. So much so, that he considered abandoning the practice and simply allowing the girls to flunk math or whatever subject slowed them down.

He hadn’t planned it. Really, it was quite an accident. But such thoughts must wait for a more private moment. For now, he busied himself with the business of gathering leaves and sticks to provide a temporary covering for the grave evidence of his new-found avocation.

Not until he was satisfied that Megan McCormick was safely tucked away in her temporary sarcophagus of leaves and weeds did he dismiss himself. He planned to return later that evening with a shovel for the burial. Next time, he must prepare better for the unexpected turning of events. Of course, next time, the event would be well-conceived with the shovel in the trunk of his car, ready and waiting.

Click here to continue reading Hags...

The big Hags giveaway
Download the Kindle version of Hags free between March 11 - 15, 2013.

If you don't want to wait for a free copy of Hags, purchase the paperback or Kindle version right now by clicking here.

Hags Episode 17

Do you want to start at the beginning of this series? Click here.

“So you checked me out while I was painting?” Micah’s smile grew wide.

“I did?”

“I know.”

“No, it was a question. You think I peeked at you?”

“It’s what you told the detective.”

“So.”

“Maybe we should have given him a muffin.”

Denise twirled a finger through her ponytail. “He’s not good looking enough, maybe a tad too old, and probably way too married for my muffins.”

“I’m none of those things, but I am a suspect. Sure you want to feed this muffin to me?”

“You haven’t been here long enough to murder anyone. If you had come to Naperville to kill a few people, you wouldn’t have bought a house.” Denise picked up the big muffin Micah had taken a bite out of earlier. “Here, it’ll feed your heart, your head and your tummy.”

“And it’s tasty.” Micah stuffed another bite into his mouth.

Denise’s eyes glowed while Micah ate more of her muffin. “Uhmm, you did buy the house, right?”

“Yes. So you didn’t leer at me?” Micah swallowed more of the muffin.

“You want me to ogle you?”

“If I get to peep back at you.”

Denise slapped his face.

Click here to continue reading Hags.

The big Hags giveaway
Download the Kindle version of Hags free between March 11 - 15, 2013.

If you don't want to wait for a free copy of Hags, purchase the paperback or Kindle version right now by clicking here.

Hags Episode 16

Do you want to start at the beginning of this series? Click here.


Denise smacked Micah on the arm and then folded her arms across her chest. She stared at Lawson.

The police officer took a step back. “I’ll repeat the question. Would you mind telling me where you were yesterday afternoon between three and six?”

“I was here.” Micah took another bite of muffin.

“Can you prove it?”

“Can you prove I wasn’t? By the way, these are tasty. Sure you don’t want one.” Micah picked up the basket of muffins.

Denise unfolded her arms and grabbed the basket. She placed it on the counter behind her. “I saw him here working yesterday afternoon.”

Micah glanced at Denise. “You did?”

“Yeah. I peeked in through your window as you worked sans shirt. You’re fun to stare at. I also noticed your car never left the driveway.” She turned to the detective, batting her eyes. “I did gawp at him. I was a regular Peeping Tom or Tammy. Will you arrest me?”

Detective Lawson shook his head. “Not at the moment. I didn’t come to accuse anyone of anything. I want to eliminate a few names.”

“You mean suspects, don’t you?” Micah asked.

The detective put his coffee down. “If you prefer, but it’s a bit early to call anyone a suspect. The pervert killed her yesterday afternoon.”

“And she’s not the one I found the other day?” Micah asked.

“No, this is a different case.”

“May I inquire as to what happened?” Denise asked.

“You’ll read about it in the paper or hear about it on the news.” Lawson put his pen back inside his shirt pocket.

Denise frowned. “But, detective, you’re here now. You can’t tease us with a juicy murder mystery and then leave. What happened? Who was killed?”

“Thanks for your time. Both of you.” The detective smiled before making his way out of the house.

Click here to continue reading Hags.

The big Hags giveaway
Download the Kindle version of Hags free between March 11 - 15, 2013.

If you don't want to wait for a free copy of Hags, purchase the paperback or Kindle version right now by clicking here.