Showing posts with label Horror fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Horror fiction. Show all posts

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Now I Lay Me Down To Reap

Now I Lay Me Down To Reap – the Newest Anthology from Sirens Call Publications 
The eighth commandment; thou shalt not steal. But everyone covets something that isn't theirs... 
Wander down the darker paths of the minds of twelve brilliantly talented authors as they conjure stories of retribution, deceit and betrayal. 
Would you chance your family’s fate to the gods in return for a favor? Are the finer things in life worth having once you know the cost someone else had to pay for you to indulge in them? Would you give up your most addictive passion so that others might reap the benefits, regardless of the reward? Or perhaps, the chance at a fresh start and a new life appeals to you? Are you prepared to reap what you have sown? 
Within this collection, you’ll find tales all too believable and beyond your oddest imaginings. But there is one thing you will not find… In this anthology, there are no happy endings.
Featuring the literary talents of Ryan C. Anderson, Thomas James Brown, Aspen deLainey, John H. Dromey, Amber Keller, Christian A. Larsen, Jeffery X Martin, Lori Michelle, Sergio Palumbo, J. Marie Ravenshaw, Bill Read, and Adrian Tchaikovsky. 
*** 
Now I Lay Me Down To Reap is available at: 
Barnes & Noble


Excerpts: 

Fugue StateChristian A. Larsen

“It was Tuesday, August 5th, and now that he knew it, he didn’t know if that information helped him or not. His eyes drifted downward over the text of the top story; something about how one of the candidates was promising tax breaks to gay couples. Was he for that or against it? Was he a Republican? A Democrat? A Libertarian? Constitution? Green? These were the kinds of issues that made people run to their ideological bunkers. He had an inkling that he might have come down hard one way or the other before… well, before he came to in the alley, an alien in his own skin. 
His eyes refocused on the glass of the newspaper box, and he saw his own reflection. There was nothing familiar in the face staring back at him, and he was a little distressed to find that he was thinning and graying up top, either prematurely (which he hoped) or right on time for a man in his mid-40s. Either way, he didn’t really feel old, at least until he tried to stand up and his knees crackled like a bowl of Rice Krispies. Did he have bad knees? Some injury from his past (assuming he had a past)…” 

Gable’s Leatherworks J. Marie Ravenshaw 

“A shrill scream rang out across the pasture. 
Abigail snapped her head up upon hearing the jarring sound. A brisk evening breeze filtered into the room, sending a chill up her spine. She glanced up at the fluttering curtains, pushed out her chair, and stood. As she walked over to the open window, she rubbed her arms trying to stave off the goose bumps. 
With her palms resting on the window jambs, she gazed out over the pasture. There was nothing out there that she could see, but she had an unnerving feeling that she was being watched. She knitted her brow and allowed her eyes to scan the field one last time before closing the window and drawing the curtain. Like every other night, the scream had come from the direction of Mrs. Gable’s barn…” 

Me and the MonsterRyan C. Anderson

“There was something sinister about Phil Winikoff, and even though his skin was sun-kissed and he smelled of expensive, French cologne, I could see the darkness that festered deep below. 
“Dr. Skidmore, your two o’clock.” My receptionist protracted his neck around the door. 
“Send him in,” I said. 
Phil passed through the threshold of my office like a wounded creature, being mindful of his steps and careful of his surroundings, fearful of some far off thing beyond the boundaries of my spackled walls. He reached for my hand and thanked me for seeing him on such short notice. “It’s really hard to find good people these days,” he said in shallow utter. His fingers wrapped around mine like tentacles, and I could feel the sweat of his palms mash together with mine. His eyes were beady bloodshot balls of sleepless jelly. We stood there, our hands entangled in a strange, sweaty chimera, until finally he released and I was able to skulk back to the safety of my imported, Carpathian Elm desk…” 

Sweet AddictionAspen deLainey 

“Aeryn peered cautiously around the corner of the schoolyard. Although dusk had fallen, that didn’t necessarily mean they’d be gone. He just had to ensure guardians weren’t nearby. 
Standing silently, he considered prancing towards the swings. Two, he counted. Two of the precious things. Just waiting for him! 
He shook his mane and tail free of any tangles. He rubbed his hooves on a convenient bush. He licked his lips. He so wanted to look enticing. 
A snarl came from directly behind him. 
Aeryn didn’t even chance a look. Better safe than sorry. He galloped off, down some alleys, hoping he’d evaded pursuit. Damn he was getting hungrier and hungrier. Finally, he stopped in a shadowy alley, panting…” 

Good TasteAdrian Tchaikovsky 

“The instructions said not to eat for 24 hours beforehand, but, seriously? There are articles in the Geneva Convention about that sort of thing. I had a light breakfast; that was all. The appointment was 11.30am and I read somewhere that bacon gets digested faster than most foods anyway. Or maybe I dreamt that. 
And if I had a Twix on the tube, well, I have blood sugar issues. A man of certain dimensions needs a bit of an energy boost when he’s out and about. I can’t think that I was setting back medical science a hundred years or anything, not just a few mouthfuls of chocolate…” 

The GameAmber Keller 

Stephanie sang the song on the radio like an angel. Her ice blue eyes closed, her head tilted back, the sun glowing off of her cheeks and shoulders, she had her knees tucked up into her chest. Her golden hair spilled down her shoulders in soft waves. 
David reached into his pocket and rubbed the small, velvet box. This was the moment he had been anticipating for weeks. He would ask her when they got to the lake. 
The winding road was starting to become covered lightly by leaves. With fall almost here, the late afternoon sun warmed the breeze that swirled through the trees, bringing the smells of summer’s last moments. A golden glow cast across the hood of his car as he crested a small hill, reflecting into his vision and temporarily blinding him. 
David’s eyes filled with tears and he rubbed at them vigorously to try and clear his vision. White spots danced before his eyes, and he let off the gas, not able to see the road. 
Stephanie’s piercing scream suddenly filled the car. 
“DAVID! LOOK OUT!” 

You Should HaveLori Michelle 

“Henry Jones liked order. His clothes had to hang in his closet a certain way. His coffee had to be made just right. Anything that disrupted his schedule was immediately loathed. This OCD-esque perfection drove everyone crazy and it wasn’t surprising that Henry lived alone. So when he found out that his secretary had to take leave for personal reasons, he wandered through the bank in a haze. 
That’s when she walked into his life. 
He saw her across the room and tried not to stare. She had an air about her that he hadn’t seen in a woman in a long time. She looked over at him and smiled; he was taken aback by how confident she was. He smiled back and walked over to her. 
“Can I help you miss...” 

A False Odor of SanctityJohn H. Dromey 

“Financial arrangements had been made in advance, so there was no need for conversation. By the flickering light of a lantern, the two men worked in a grim silence, broken only by the susurrus of twin shovels slicing through the packed earth and an occasional grunt of exertion as the loosened clods were tossed high in the air to land outside the pit. 
Farther up in the sky, a gibbous moon played hide and seek with slow-moving clouds. Although more than half of the lunar orb he called home was open intermittently to earthly view on this particular evening, the Man in the Moon could bear witness with only one eye. No one else was watching. 
When a new sound emerged from the surrounding shadowy darkness—a faint metallic clinking of chains—the diggers were too absorbed in their work to notice…” 

Hark! The Herald Angels Sing!Jeffery X Martin
 
“One time, when you were little, we were in the car. All of us. You, me and your mommy. Your mommy was messing around with the radio in the car, trying to find some music to listen to. She landed on this one station, far right on the dial, and there was an old preacher, rattling on about the End of Days. I made a face. Your mother giggled a little and reached down to change the station. 
You were in back, in your car seat, and you said, “Who’s that man talking?” 
Your mommy said, “Just some guy telling stories.” 
You laughed and clapped your hands. “He’s funny! He talks funny,” you said. “He says funny things!” 
And the guy did have that cadence going on, that deep Southern rhythm, adding extra syllables onto his words. “Jesus-ah! He is-ah coming back-ah! He is coming-ah! To retrieve his people-ah! To take his people-ah! Into the sky-ah! Up to his holy kingdom-ah! The holy kingdom of heaven-ah!” 

Beasts of BurdenThomas James Brown 

“Four months ago we could barely afford to eat and now this... By the Seven Courts of the Seven Sins, the land itself would not satisfy you, Frederick!” 
For three generations, Hanker Farm had endured in the Dorsetshire region. When just a boy, Coll had watched studiously from the fields as his father managed the land. The lessons in those days were many, and taught the merits of diligence, hard work and glistening sweat, in favour of parchment or prayers. 
“As you reap, so shall you sow,” his father used to say, “sow bad seeds and happen you’ll have a bad harvest.” Even in those early days, he had realized his father was imparting more than agricultural wisdom; he was a moral man with just beliefs, which did not indulge slovenliness or ill manners…” 

The Fairies in the Wood Bill Read 

“Even from a distance, Edward Carter had no problem spotting her. Every other arriving passenger was garbed in suits, anoraks or tee-shirts - but not his daughter. Even though he hadn’t seen her for six months, there was no mistaking the figure in the dress standing next to an out of date poster advertising a talk at the village library on local superstitions. She was even wearing a straw hat – she looked like a character out of a Pollyanna book. 
“Sorry I wasn’t here to meet you off the train,” he apologised giving her a hug. “I took the wrong turning on the way to the station – I don’t know the roads around here yet.” 
“That’s all right dad,” replied Maribel pecking him on the cheek. “The train got in at 10.30 and I’ve hardly been waiting at all. A few seconds is hardly a matter of life and death…” 

The Eater Sergio Palumbo 

“Only a few people really know the true story of Jenő De Carignano. In fact, he was a peculiar nobleman living in an ancient and windy European seaport. He was born in a northern Italian town in 1800, long ago, but nowadays he doesn’t think much about that city. It has been a very long time since the man was back there and, with the passing of the years, he has almost forgotten its name. 
But, the name of the place wasn’t important anyway. 
Dark haired, with a bristly, curly beard, and two wild eyes on a face glowing with health, Jenő was 32 years old when he got married for the first time. The birth of his son, Flavio, soon followed. The wedding was expensive and ostentatious, but as he wasn’t from one of the most famous noble families in town, it was nothing like the wonderful marriages of the richest families in that community. Anyway, the man was very relieved about that, as he was mainly an introvert, and very mean in general. He had a lot of reasons to behave that way: Jenő was an alchemist and had discovered something very important while busy with his other studies, something he didn’t want to share with anyone else…”

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Bang vs Julianne Snow


Please welcome Julianne Snow to Bang Noir! I am very grateful that she has come here to share with us her first novel DAYS WITH THE UNDEAD. Go check her out!! and buy her book, it's great!!

About the Author - Julianne Snow
It was while watching Romero's Night of the Living Dead at the tender age of 6 that solidified Julianne’s respect of the Undead. Since that day, she has been preparing herself for the (inevitable) Zombie Apocalypse. While classically trained in all of the ways to defend herself, she took up writing in order to process the desire she now covets; to bestow a second and final death upon the Undead. 
As the only girl growing up in a family with four children in the Canadian countryside, Julianne needed some form of escape. Her choice was the imaginations of others which only fostered the vibrancy of her own. The horror and forensic/crime thriller genres top her list of favourites, but she can never turn down a good science fiction, fantasy or mystery read. 
Julianne appears in the anthology Women of the Living Dead with a story entitled The Living Dead at Penderghast Manor. Look for her short stories in future anthologies. Days with the Undead: Book One is her first full-length book, the basis of which can be found in her popular web serial of the same name.


Days with the Undead: Book One Synopsis:

It’s a journal of survival.

Five people set out to escape the Undead who have risen too close to home. Join the emotional and physical struggle as they began on the third day after the awakening of Brooks VanReit, as they are recorded from the point of view of Julie, a former pathologist and part-time survivalist.
Each entry is geared toward helping those who want to help themselves and maybe give a few that don’t a swift kick in the ass. Join our group of survivors on their journey through these Days with the Undead.



The Post

Bang Noir has been one of my go-to blogs for quite some time so imagine my delight in finding out that I would be guesting with the handsome and charming William Butler. William is the author of a great many books, all of which are great – but those of you that follow his blog already know that. Taking into account the fact that I have been influenced by many of the Indie authors that I now call friends, I took a look into my past and remembered…

My Earliest Literary Horror Influences

I have been a fan of horror since the first moment that I can remember. Books, films - you name it and I will find a way to read it or watch it. I love the momentary feeling that being frightened creates within my body. Ruminating on this topic, I can’t help but remember back to those first books that helped to cement my love of the genre.

The first horror story that I ever read was The Mist by Stephen King. I was around eight years old at the time and I remember being scared by that ominous fog that rolled in. Sometime in the next few days, a layer of light fog rolled over the landscape outside of my window and I can remember the feeling of dread that overcame me. Luckily, it passed without incident.

After reading The Mist, I recall asking my elementary school librarian, Mr. Connor, at the age of ten if there was anything that he could recommend for me. I had spent the previous few years reading my brother’s Stephen King novels and my mother’s Robin Cook books so I was looking for something new. My elementary school only went as high as grade six at the time, so it’s understandable that there were limited offerings from Scholastic available.

Some might look at what followed as an interesting reaction to a ten year old’s request to stock horror stories, but Mr. Connor ordered one per month for the school library. Whether it was his desire to foster my love of reading or a twisted way to suss out my limitations for horror, none of it really mattered. I was going to get access to new and exciting reads.

The first book that came in was Slumber Party by Christopher Pike. Admittedly it was Young Adult Horror and I was used to reading the full-fledged freak outs, but I devoured it! I took it home on a Friday and by the time I brought it back the following Monday, I had read it three times. That was the only drawback to being a fast reader – I’d have nothing else to read until the next Scholastic order came in…

After devouring Slumber Party, Mr. Connor tried to push Roald Dahl’s The Witches at me and while it was a good book, it was something I had already read. Knowing that I was unlikely to get any new or gratifying horror reads from my school library, I talked my mother into taking me to my local public library for some time among the stacks.

Now of course I had been there before and mainly it was to get additional works by King and Cook but admittedly, there were things in these books that had gone over my head the first time I had read them. Reading them again in adulthood has straightened quite a few of those things out. Discovering an author who wrote horror geared a little more toward my current age was like Christmas! As I scoured the racks for more by Christopher Pike, I found titles like Chain Letter, Gimme a Kiss and The Party. It was only a few titles at the time, but I had certainly found something new that I could really get into.

Quite by chance, I happened to glance up at the end of the bookshelves as I was preparing to leave with my new finds and discovered that the librarians had made finding new authors a little easier. Listed on pages of letter-sized paper were recommendations for other authors based on who you already enjoyed. That list held a few names but those names I would become very familiar with: Dean Koontz, Caroline B. Cooney and Richie Tankersley Cusick. I would have to say that Pike and Koontz along with King and Cook kept me quite busy. I was a voracious reader and would pretty much read anything that struck my fancy. Along with horror, I was reading a lot of science fiction mainly from Ray Bradbury, James Herbert and Jack Finney. It was a time of literary exploration and I enjoyed each and every minute of it.

If you’re interested in reading the posts and interviews that have made up the beginning of my Days with the Undead: Book One tour, you can mosey on over to The Sirens Call and check them out!

***

It was while watching Romero's Night of the Living Dead at the tender age of 6 that solidified Julianne’s respect of the Undead. Since that day, she has been preparing herself for the (inevitable) Zombie Apocalypse. While classically trained in all of the ways to defend herself, she took up writing in order to process the desire she now covets; to bestow a second and final death upon the Undead. As the only girl growing up in a family with four children in the Canadian countryside, Julianne needed some form of escape. Her choice was the imaginations of others which only fostered the vibrancy of her own.



Days with the Undead: Book One is her first full-length book, the basis of which can be found in her popular web serial of the same name. You can find Julianne’s The Living Dead of Penderghast Manor in the anthology Women of the Living Dead and an upcoming story in Sirens Call Publications first anthology Childhood Nightmares: Under The Bed.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

BANG Vs. THE UNDEAD

JULIANNE SNOW IS COMING TO BANG NOIR!! CHECK OUT HER BOOK FOR HER BLOG TOUR. A POSSIBLE QUESTION AND ANSWER ON MARCH 20TH!! BE HERE FOR JULIANNE SNOW'S GUEST POST...




Press Release - Days with the Undead: Book One by Julianne Snow

Days with the Undead: Book One Synopsis:
It’s a journal of survival.
Five people set out to escape the Undead who have risen too close to home. Join the emotional and physical struggle as they began on the third day after the awakening of Brooks VanReit, as they are recorded from the point of view of Julie, a former pathologist and part-time survivalist.
Each entry is geared toward helping those who want to help themselves and maybe give a few that don’t a swift kick in the ass. Join our group of survivors on their journey through these Days with the Undead.

Date Released - February 29th, 2012
ISBN: 1468007998
ISBN-13: 978-1468007992

Available in print and digital formats.
Purchase Links - Print:
Purchase Link - Digital:

About the Author - Julianne Snow
            It was while watching Romero's Night of the Living Dead at the tender age of 6 that solidified Julianne’s respect of the Undead. Since that day, she has been preparing herself for the (inevitable) Zombie Apocalypse. While classically trained in all of the ways to defend herself, she took up writing in order to process the desire she now covets; to bestow a second and final death upon the Undead.
             As the only girl growing up in a family with four children in the Canadian countryside, Julianne needed some form of escape. Her choice was the imaginations of others which only fostered the vibrancy of her own. The horror and forensic/crime thriller genres top her list of favourites, but she can never turn down a good science fiction, fantasy or mystery read. 
             Julianne appears in the anthology Women of the Living Dead with a story entitled The Living Dead at Penderghast Manor. Look for her short stories in future anthologies. Days with the Undead: Book One is her first full-length book, the basis of which can be found in her popular web serial of the same name.