Tourniquet News!

So early on in mine and Dennis Magnant's journey of monsters and comics, he had told his wife Naomi about it and he told me something to that of "She said she likes the story, but since she doesn't really care for comics, she thinks it would make a good book."  I didn't put too much thought into it at the time.  I was mainly looking at it as my artist was, a comic book.  It's come up a few more times since then.  Surprisingly Dennis himself was the one to bring it up.  When he and I aren't working on Tourniquet, I've been working on various projects, so writing a book version of the comic I'd already written wasn't really on my mind.

I know I've mentioned on this blog about this becoming a possibility but after the last time my friend and artist spoke it's really been weighing heavily on my mind.  I'm feeling it'll help our upcoming series and the world we've been creating thus far.  The plan for me really isn't to transfer the finished book to that of literature but to use my original scripts as an outline and write the book around them.  I'll be transferring all five scripts of the first story arc - as it'd been set up for a 5 issue arc.  It'll be slightly different from the finished book as there's always changes in the process.  With that difference I think it'll be fun for readers of both.

At the moment I am SWAMPED with work so I probably won't be able to get to it until summer and from their we will be self publishing it online.  We hope that when that time comes everyone will support it, especially those at www.facebook.com/tourniquetcomics

I'll be posting throughout the process, filling you guys in as I go.  It may be sooner than later depending on how my workload goes.

We hope to get the first issue out to you between now and then.  I know that may seem a bit off but we're getting done what we can in the time we're allotted.  Dennis gave a sneak peak to some of the others that were with him in his training retreat he went to for work and they all took to it pretty well so that's awesome.  We love our monsters and the crazy world they're in.  It's a straight up monster action book and we're proud of it. 

Sometimes things just take time and Tourniquet is one of those things.  So if everything goes smoothly Tourniquet: Recompense (the title chosen for the first arc) the book will be out by the end of the year and hopefully it'll help the comic in return.

Thanks, stay tuned.

BRAND NEW story coming soon!

Usually when I post stories on here, they're fairly old for the most part.  I'd recently finished my work on a quasi-horror anthology I'm co-writing with my wife.  I had this little nugget of a story idea from 15 years ago or more and decided to go ahead and write it for the last of my duties to the book.  It's called "High Tide's A Comin'" and it's fairly short at around 5-7 pages, roughly.  She read it and rejected it for the book, saying it wasn't dark enough.  I agree it's not as dark as some of the others in the book but I thought it went well with the weirdness that's all over the book and the stories within.  We took out the story and replaced it with an old one I had taken out to flesh out into its own thing; sacrifices and compromises, what're you gonna do?

With that said, I've decided to touch up the story a bit and put it on here for you all.  It will probably be up at some point next week.  So, 'High Tide's A Comin'' - old idea, new story. 

Now! Stay tuned as I'll be posting more news and a story today. ;-)

Politics & Religion

Okay, so I don’t really post things like this on here as I’ve mainly made this blog for my work however there’s something on my mind...


Donald Trump’s proposed wall shows more problems than solutions. 
1. Logically; if a wall was going to make everything better than no house or vehicle would ever have trouble.
2. It’s not so much keeping others out but keeping us in. We’re setting ourselves up like the setting of Escape From New York, a prison. 
3. It shows cowardice by not facing problems head on.
4. Most importantly, this whole country was founded by immigrants. America has always been a melting pot for that reason. The idea of shutting others out from our country instantly eliminates what our forefathers fought for and set up for America and by rooting for such an action, you’re personally denying our history. The term ‘illegal aliens, illegal immigrants, etc’ makes me think of Nazi Germany as if someday we’ll have officials walking the streets asking to see our papers. Does any of this honestly sound like the United States of America? The citizens trying to make everything the way it was are denying history.

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
Emma Lazarus

I know the talk of the Wall is Mexico specific but, honestly, do you think they’ll stop there?

And I know you’re thinking, ‘Oh, he obviously doesn’t like Trump; he must be for Clinton or Sanders.’ Aaaaand No. Honestly, I don’t trust any of them. Part of me wishes we could have regional presidents (all under one congress) and that way instead of people of this great nation trying to move out of it, they could move to the region represented by the president of their choosing. Of course, I know that’s quite idealistic and would prove problems as well, probably resulting in another Civil War down the line; it’s simply a theory. But back to my ranting...

I’ve seen that a lot of the hard Christian Right back Trump wholeheartedly and I think it’s quite interesting as one of his big hooks is saying that it’s time for America to be greedy and grab and grab and grab. Greed is one of the seven deadly sins and supposed Christians are eating his words with great hunger. So they believe that such sin will ‘Make America great again’?

Which brings me to my next point...
I absolutely hate bigotry of any kind. I hate racism, homophobia, classism, etc etc. It makes me sick. As an American, it makes me sick to see that we can’t be a nation of One; we have to hate each other because we’re different from one another. We can’t even see our diversity as a blessing. We’re not a nation of carbon copies, clones cut out from a design and we see this as a BAD thing? It’s sad and, again, sickening. So many in our country want everyone to fall in line and clock in to the conformity while still claiming individualism and freedom of such. 

Furthermore, I’m a Christian and I’m as proud to be a Christian as I am proud to be an American. With that said, I take great umbrage when so many use the Bible as their reasoning for their bigotry and hatred. For some strange reason they think they’re doing the Lord’s work by denying others service due to a difference of opinion. Now, these days there’s a fine line between preference and prejudice. Just because you don’t agree with someone’s lifestyle doesn’t mean you hate them or are against them; I understand this, however, when you try to strip them of their human rights it crosses a line. 

A lot of these people, supposed Christians, love to cherry-pick the Bible and quote scripture for their reasoning. But I know in my heart that most of these people haven’t read the whole book, and, if they have, are clearly choosing to ignore important things and going off of how they feel; which is essentially them playing God and making decisions themselves. It’s easy to pick something out and say “But GOD says...” The reason why I say I don’t believe them to have to read the whole book is because it has an ending that sums everything up. Would you read ANY book only to ignore the end and its lesson? 

The LAST chapter of the LAST book in the Bible is The Revelation Chapter 22.
22:9-14
Then saith he unto me, See thou do it not: for I am thy fellowservant, and of thy brethren the prophets, and of them which keep the sayings of this book: worship God.
And he saith unto me, Seal not the sayings of the prophecy of this book: for the time is at hand.
He that is unjust, let him be unjust still: and he which is filthy, let him be filthy still: and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still: and he that is holy, let him be holy still.
And, behold, I come quickly; and my reward is with me, to give every man according as his work shall be.
I am the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last.
Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city.

This lesson is simple and appears to be quite looked over. When it’s all said and done, live and let live, YOU’RE not the judge or the decider, GOD will judge us all when the time comes. For those who pick out things from the Bible to use it against their fellow man, they should read ALL of it before passing judgment or jumping to conclusions on what they believe. I’ve been to churches where the pastors preach such hatred and bigotry, like many of their brainwashed followers, not paying attention to the importance of the very end of the story. These are the same people who are trying to ‘Make America Great Again’ while claiming their Faith; people who don’t even look at it all before throwing stones, accusations, and proclaiming themselves worthy of such titles as Children of God. So the next time you see people mistreated by people who use the Bible as their source, just remember what it all comes down to. 


With that off my chest, I can get back to work.  In the words of Mick Foley, Have a nice day. :-)

The Struggle

As I've stated on my Facebook before, I've been doing this for quite awhile; I'm just now this year starting to do it professionally.  Losing my job was the best thing that could've happened to me as afterwards my wife had pushed me to go ahead and jump headfirst into this; and I've done so without a net.  It's an odd feeling to be writing, creating, and sending work out for so long with nobody knowing/caring who I am.  I've had several issues with publishers in the past and I'd had friends tell me I should just self-publish; but I needed to get something published before doing so, just to solidify (to myself) what I'd been trying to do.  When Supposed Crimes picked up my little poetry book, at first I was a little leery due to these issues I'd had in the past.  But things worked out great and I have a fantastic working relationship with them. 

Gun Control for Polar Bears wasn't the big thought on my mind when sending it out, not really a big goal amidst all the projects I have; but when it came out it became a bigger deal than I expected.  Not in the world of literature but to me personally.  It got my name out, started my career, and gave me a validation I'd sought out for so long.  It also started my working relationship with my publisher and since then we've come up with at least a few projects that are exciting and I can't wait to jump on.  My heroes in art all started their careers with small artsy stuff before moving on to more noticeable things.  These days, things seem to work in the opposite.  Nowadays people tend to do something noticeable and then self fund/self publish their little artsy stuff.  After just a month of the poetry book being out, I realized that I'm following in the same footsteps as my heroes; the struggle of obscurity with no one giving me a chance and then I get my little oddity out.  So Gun Control for Polar Bears isn't just a little indie publication of oddball poetry, it's given me a start, it's let me in.  Regardless of its low sales it will always hold a place in my heart.  This little thing I put out there and expected to hear nothing but "No" on actually started my path anew.

The struggles are aplenty when you choose an art for a life.  I wrote for many years and really had no one to speak to about so much of it.  For my friends and family it was just me talking as I was constantly speaking of ideas I'd carried but none of it seemed to have weight.  I'm no stranger to rejection; I get rejected more now than I did in high school.  Incidentally, I still get "friendzoned" with hearing "I love your writing.  It's great.  It's just not for us at this time."  When you choose to do this for a living you're going to get rejected.  Just the other day I got an email rejection for Gun Control for Polar Bears from one of the many companies I'd sent it to; the book's been out since February.  In the beginning the rejections would really bother me.  The ones that actually hurt are the ones from people who straight up refuse to read the work.  I'd understand if it was read and not liked but to not read it is worse than a bad review; to me anyway.  These days they don't bother me as much.  On one hand I think about how I already know where I'm going so these pesky little set backs shouldn't ruffle my feathers so much.  On the other hand I think about some of my favorite works of art, for example the film Blade Runner, which tanked upon its release yet now is considered a classic that other sci-fi films are compared to.  Things like that let me think "Me or my work may not be appreciated right now but it can change things and make a difference."  When you do what I do, you're going to struggle.  It's part of it all. 

I start every day off with getting a cup of coffee and creating new worlds.  It's fantastic.  It's difficult yes.  I'm not sitting poolside with gorgeous women bringing me cocktails (and my apologies if this statement sounds sexist in any way as it's not my intent.)  I'm not rolling in dough.  Financially I'd love to come up with that project that sets my family and I up for years to come but for now I am a struggling writer.  I'll be honest, I'd rather struggle with my dreams than be content in what most consider a "normal life".  The idea of being trapped in an art-less, monotonous 9-5 scares the hell out of me, so when I have troubles with a book, a screenplay, or a comic book, I just remember that I'm actually doing it.  This is exactly what I wanted; trials, tribulations, and all - and I know that down the line the money's coming, I have faith in that.  I've never had writer's block.  My main problem is the same as everyone else's - time.  There aren't enough hours in a day or days in a week to get it all out. 

When you create for a living, there's a gap, an odd time lapse if you will.  You plan, work, and create your project and people only know what you tell them.  Then there's the wait for it to get picked up, then there's the editing, the artwork, and then awaiting release date.  Then, eventually, the world gets to see what you worked so hard for.  I have so many things going on right now, it's ridiculous.  I have one book out that people know about and a dozen others on the way.  One of the hardest things about it is your own personal expectations.  It's not about money to me but readership.  You finally get your labor of love out and you expect people to take notice, a notice you, of course, have a bias towards.  It comes out and it's not received as expected.  You have to just keep going.  That's what I do.  Because a project isn't well received or well known doesn't change its existence.  It's real, regardless who knows about it or who believes in it. 

One of the other hardships in being a "creator" is the fact that when you create your world (which, by the way, it doesn't matter the type of story you are writing, you ARE creating a new world) you see it all in your head.  You're an architect.  But you're the ONLY one that sees what you see and that can be troubling at times, especially when you're trying to show it around or get it known.  You struggle in getting others to see your blueprints for what they really are.  To some they're just made up stories and to others, who "get it", they'll see the full building (and city for that matter) as you've designed it.  But, of course, the latter isn't always the case; thus, the continuing struggle.

It's funny, I've always been a big Woody Allen fan and these days I find myself exactly the struggling writer character that he's written so often.  But, as said, I'd rather keep fighting and keep writing than be another brick in the wall.  I have so much in me that I can't wait to get out.  My brain's never barren and I have plenty to work on, always.  I hope you guys stick around because there's so much for you to see.  Some day all the stories I post on this blog will all go into a book but until then they'll be on here as a taste; a sampler platter. 

It's interesting about what else Gun Control for Polar Bears did; it brought me into this new world for me.  Beyond a poetry book here or there, I never planned on writing books.  I always wanted to do screenplays, plays and comic books.  I'm still doing those things but I'm also now in this 'book world' and whatnot.  The poetry book came out and all of a sudden I had opportunities to do different kinds of books, which I've jumped on.  Like many writers, I hope I can create something that will leave a mark and stand the test of time.  Do I have that in me?  I don't know.  It's not really up to me.  I suppose that's more up to you, the reader.

I've achieved the main part of my goal in becoming a writer, now I just need to become a successful one.  It's interesting, I've heard writers talk about how they don't want to be a brand and they just want to create; but if you're doing this, essentially you're wanting to build your name as a brand in some way, if that makes any sense.  It's still wild to me that I can say that "Yes, this is what I am and what I do".  Regardless of that dream coming true, it doesn't really change things at home haha.  I can be proud of myself and my accomplishments and the things that are in the pipe for the future but I still here "The trash needs to be taken out".  It's a case of 'the more things change, the more they stay the same.'  The struggle is real and it's hard but I love where it's leading me. 

I have friends who are also writers, artists, creators of all types going through the exact things I am.  I'm proud of them all and I'm happy to finally be joining them.  So to wrap up I'll say rejections are coming (don't worry about them), it'll seem like nobody cares (as long as you do, everything's gravy), encourage your fellow artists (giving that feels just as good as receiving it), there's a lot of struggle and hard work (but it leads to somewhere greater), and stay positive (why waste your time being negative?).

I'd love to talk about process and all but I've rambled long enough.  That'll have to be for another time.  Thank you family & friends for sticking with me and reading my posts.  I love you all.  BUT...it's time to get back to work. 

Followup: vampires and updates

I hope you've enjoyed the vampire shorts.  I can tell you bits of the larger world would include vampires named Froy and Aleksander running a human vineyard, trying to get just the right blood.  More drama would surround Frank and those close to him.  Vernon and Lilith from "Long in the Tooth" would make returns as well with one story being Vernon avenging the girl's father's death, and the other being Lilith returning as an adult, quite hardened.  It's quite a bit of tiny puzzle pieces that wouldn't exactly be in order, much like these 4 stories have been posted.
Again, as I've said in the past posts, I'd be interested in going back to that world once things calm down for Chris and I.  I think this kind of project works great for us as I don't know a bigger fan of Vampires than Chris Langley (or Chris2.0) and I'm a writer who enjoys twisting things around from the norm.  It was fun to go back briefly to show you all; I had forgotten just how sprawling and different it was, despite you all only getting a taste.
If you'd be interested in seeing this odd vampire world, let me know.

Alright, as you know I've been crazy busy as of late.  My first book came out February 1st of this year and I immediately jumped into my other works.  Mine and Dennis' comic book Tourniquet is still trucking along and will be made available soon.  He's an incredible artist and I often joke that I'd love to clone him - couldn't tell you how much work I'd get done.

Just this past week I finished my horror anthology Sharp Items & Bad Intentions and immediately sent it off to my publisher.  While I thought I was done with my work on the other, more psychological anthology I'm co-writing, I was compelled to go back and top it off with one more short story; making it 10 stories in total.  The title of this book will be released soon.  Now it's in my co-writer's hands and she says it'll be done by the end of the month.  When that happens, we'll be looking for the right publisher for it.

Right now I'm looking forward to taking this weekend off and relaxing.  Starting Monday I'll be leaving horror be for a tad and stepping into sci-fi.  One of the projects with a friend and cowriter I'd been mentioning for a couple of posts and I will be working on a really interesting sci-fi romance and I will be getting back to my solo sci-fi book Last Rites of the Capacitance.  This book was started before the thought to push for the two horror anthologies had come up.  I'd turned in my first draft, got notes back and now I'm going for the second.  I'm excited for myself and these projects but I'm also excited for You to get a chance to read it all.
So far this year will be filled with-
1 poetry book,
2 different kinds of horror anthologies
2 different sci-fi books
1 comic book
And a slew of other things I can't really talk about yet!

A Concerned Parent - Vampire story 4 of 4

Well, here you have it, folks.  This is the last of the little vampire stories actually completed.  I hope you've enjoyed these little peeks into a larger world from Chris Langley and I.

A Concerned Parent


This is Steven.
He used to work as a roofer for years and now he owns such a company. His wife, Gloria, died years ago. Steven has a son named Frank, that he believes is a god kid, just a little misguided. Steven’s not big on Frank’s friends though, not one bit.

He had just gotten home from work. The man of the house and single father stops by the built in bar in their dining room and fixes himself a nice well deserved drink. Steven takes a sip to see if he has it to his liking… And it is. Now it’s upstairs to get a shower, but upon passing Frank’s bedroom at the top of the staircase, he listens – just for a second – through the already cracked door. It’s Frank & his friend Ben discussing current affairs in the world. ‘Don’t let ‘em rot your brain, kid.’ Steven thinks to himself before heading off to his shower.

Roughly twenty eight minutes later he’s out in his robe sitting at the end of the bed; refreshed, clean, and about ready to sleep. Steven finishes the last drink in his glass and upon setting the all-but-ice empty glass on the bedside table he sees her staring back at him: one of the many pictures of Gloria. He picks her up with one hand and touches her face with the index finger from his other.

“I miss you, baby. Things haven’t been the same without you. I don’t even know how to talk to my own son anymore… If there was just one way I could have you back. Eh… But I know what you’d say, ‘Everything happens for a reason and happens the way it’s supposed to.’ Yeah well fifteen years was an awful lot to throw away. I just love you and I miss you and… And I just wish you could know just how much.”

The widower puts the picture back, takes a deep breath and sucks it up & leaves the room. One the way back downstairs for a refill he again over hears his son and chum.

“Oh, man. I’m sorry. That sucks.” Frank says sympathetically,’

“That’s all you can say?” Ben seems agitated.

“Well what do you want me to say, dude? You just came in here and told me you’re a vampire now. All I can say is I’m sorry.”

Steven’s stomach turns sour. Angered, he miraculously keeps from kicking the door open and giving that bloodsucking scum a piece of his mind. He just marches downstairs to sooth his stomach with more alcohol. Another hour goes by before Ben leaves. An hour Steven’s spent drinking alone in the dark stewing in his thoughts. Frank walks Ben to the door.

“I’ll see ya later, man.” Frank says closing the door only then to be startled by his father turning on a lamp. “Hey, dad. You okay?”

“I don’t want you hanging out with that boy anymore. You’re a good kid and I don’t want to see you getting mixed up with leeches like that.”

“He’s not a leech. What are you talking about?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!”

“…Were you eavesdropping on us?”

“This is my house, mister! It’s not eavesdropping since it’s my home.”

“Ben’s just going through some troubles right now.”

“I don’t want you hanging out with him anymore and that’s final!”

There’s a long pause of deep breaths and watered eyes.

“I’m doing to bed.” Frank releases with a sigh while scratching the back of his head. Steven begins to think this is a good idea and perhaps he’s too sauced to attempt such a conversation.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. We can kinda… Sleep this off a little.”

Frank turns around and goes upstairs. Steven gets up to follow but turns his head, as if it called to him, and sees the phone.

“Forgive me…”

I Know A Guy - Vampire story 3 of 4

This is the third of the four completed mini vampire stories from Chris Langley and myself. As I'd mentioned before, all of these were/are meant to be really short and just little connected pieces in a bigger world. I still look at it as Frank Miller's Sin City for Vampires. The full story that encompasses all of these tiny bits is actually really exciting and far different than the usual vamp stories we'd seen or read previously. I hope to one day get back to these; not only is it an interesting and sprawling story but I'd love to get a chance to actually work with Chris.  However as it stands we're both very busy with life; he's going to school and I'm busy trying to get this career up and going.

So here it is, the next mini vamp story, "I Know A Guy"...




I Know a Guy



It’s a beautiful day outside, where a couple of college friends have a table outside the lovely restaurant Cozoa. They’re enjoying their various club sandwiches and discussing the new social issue – vampires.

Steven & Cole have been friends since they were freshmen in college. Steven now owns Brooks Roofing Co. and Cole is an assistant to the mayor.

“I’ll tell you what I can’t stand,” Starts Cole, “It’s not the Jews in Hollywood or the blacks in office…”

“Jesus, Cole.” Cole’s race issues have always made Steven uneasy.

“…It’s the damn vampires.” Cole finishes.

A head shaking Steven replies, “Yeah, I don’t know. The whole thing seems weird to me. Whatever happened to taking a night with some popcorn and watching some Bela Lugosi movies? No. Now we have to share an elevator with Bela and subways and banks and restaurants. It’s just too weird.”

“We went from reading books and watching movies to cloning sheep and splicing genes.”

“Maybe it’s just evolution. Like this is the next step up. Like Betamax to VHS.”

“Or DVD to Blu-Ray.”

“Exactly.” Steven adds.

“Nah. No moving up from us. We’re it. Top of the line and top of the food chain.”

“I don’t know about all that. You know Gloria used to say that everything had a purpose. I wonder if this whole thing could have one.”

Cole puts his drink down almost rolling his eyes, “Look, Stevie, I know you miss Gloria. I miss her too, she was a hell of a gal. But you gotta move on, man. Try to find you something new.”

“Can we get back on topic please? Look, I don’t like this vampire thing anymore than you do but maybe there’s a bright side here that we can’t see.”

“Well, you’re right there. I don’t see it… Hell, Stevie, you know what they’re talking about now? Givin’ ‘em jobs. Working with us, banking with us, hunting with us, farming with us. Do you want your boy eatin’ something grown or made by some lousy leech? If it were up to me we’d make them all illegal aliens. Kick all of them outta this country. I don’t want our kids and vamps to share schools together. It’s unsafe and unnatural.” Sparks Cole.

Steven sits blank faced thinking of it while trying to get some of the turkey from between his teeth. Cole wipes his mouth clean with his napkin and throws it down to his finished plate while leaning forward.

“I know a guy… Who specializes in… Extermination.” He says whispering.

“I’m not following you.”

“I know an exterminator for our… Pest problem.”

“Jeez, Cole, a hitman?”

“SHHH! No. Just, for these situations. So if you ever have trouble with a vamp you can call him.”

“And where’d ya dig this guy up?” A skeptical Steven asks.

“I can’t give you any information. I just have his contact.”

“Ooh, mysterious. I don’t think I’ll be having trouble anytime soon. Thanks anyway.”

“Hey, gimme a call if you change your mind.”

Cole stands up and pulls out his wallet, “I’ll get the tip.”

“Later, buddy.” Steven says shaking Cole’s hand. “I’ll be in touch.”

Pearly Whites in Shadowy Nights - Vampire story 2 of 4

Alright!  Here's the second mini-vampire story concocted by Chris Langley and myself, starting with a line used in Long in the Tooth. Here you are, "Pearly Whites in Shadowy Nights".






Pearly Whites in Shadowy Nights



‘And some of us just want to take advantage…’

They wait, licking their lips, awaiting the buffet before them. Frank & Joanna have been together for a couple of years now, but he just turned her about a year ago. They like to go out on dates and then feed together. Like tonight… Tonight’s not an uncommon night. The lovers sit and watch from Frank’s father’s minivan.

The drive-in’s playing a double feature horror show: The Thing That Walked and Bloodsuckers from Mars! And the lot is full of potential. The smell fills the air & their fangs grow without their trying. They’re taking a break from their late night make out session, taking in the sights and sounds of the night.

“I’m hungry.” Joanna says rubbing her stomach.

“Well just wait.” Frank calls the shots. “Give it time.”

“How much time, baby? I’m starving.”

“Starving? Did I not take you to the park earlier?” Frank rolls his eyes. She rolls hers to mock him.

“Just. Wait. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

“Is that why you haven’t told your dad about us? Because the wait will be worth it?”

He sigh, drops his hands, and stares at her.

“My father would stroke out if I told him I was a vampire.”

“Oh, so now you’re ashamed? Whatever happened to ‘trust me, baby, you’ll love it; we’ll live forever’? It was good enough to turn me but not good enough to tell anyone?”

“Can we not do this now? I’m trying to watch the movie & our possible sustenance. Plus if the next movie’s as bad as this one our dinner might be taking a hike. So please, don’t do this shit to me right now.”

“Alright, I’m sorry. I’m just thirsty. That’s all.” She lets out.

“I know, babe. I’m tryin’!”

They continue the waiting and watching. Frank, though young, can feel their pulses in the airwaves. For every heartbeat, the hairs on his arms raise. The pulses ring clear like a bell across the drive-in lot. She, Joanna, sits there, tapping her long pink fingernails and snapping her gum. She doesn’t understand that it’s an art. The girl will learn sometime. She’ll have to – or die. Frank’s eyes are bloodshot; so much to the point to where the veins are bulging from the eyeballs. He inhales deeply before turning to the young lady.

“It’s time.” He insists.

The high scare point of the movie comes on; predictable to some (like Frank) but scary none-the-less. The audience screams almost in unison as the heart rate and, therefore blood flow, rises at that moment.

“Finally.” The overly eager Joanna begins climbing out of the window to the hood, which she does in one fluid motion. He stands in front of the vehicle while she’s crouching on the hood behind him. Their fangs extend. She grabs his shoulders & leaps over him to the edge of the bluff. He soon joins her.

“Hungry?” Frank asks.

She replies, “Starving.”

And so they jump from their view point of dinner and glide down to the lot. Jo lands softly on the roof of some carpooling high schoolers closer to them, while Frank clears across the lot to the other side. Giving each other only one glance, they waste no more time and make what was simply a drive-in movie their feeding ground. Frank jumps in a couple’s car crushing their larynxes before they could scream. He bites the girl while holding the guy down single handedly. When the young bloodsucker is done feeding on the girl, he goes for her date. Joanna slides down to get her footing on the ground, effortlessly like a snake. She taps her nails on the window and the giddy group of high school boys notices a beautiful young lady outside and immediately rolls down the window.

“Got room for one more?” She asks as the top two buttons of her shirt come undone.

They let her in and no sound is heard from the car and it never leaves the lot. Both Frank & Joanna enjoy their buffet with no car between them knowing a thing. They move from vehicle to vehicle feasting on the blood of every poor soul who thought it was a good idea to go see a movie tonight. The two go for obvious veins in the neck, wrist, and other, yet, keeping it relatively clean. He kept stressing this upon his girlfriend before the night started. As someone once told Frank, “You get sloppy, you get dead.” While this isn’t their first date, it is their first time feeding together on such a large scale. Not too much into the second movie, seventeen cars sit with dried up corpses inside. Like pale legged raisins with a look of shock and horror forever embedded in their faces. More than seventeen families unaware.

After all the damage is done they meet in the middle… in the back of a pickup truck. She’s lying in the back looking up at the stars.

“This seat taken?” Frank asks approaching the truck.

“Oh by all means.” Jo replies shoving the lying dead body out of the way.

He lies down next to her, “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna need a drink though. The aftertaste is kind of blah.”

“Yup. We’ll get one before we leave.” Frank responds.

At the concessions stand: Ralph, the overnight employee adjusting his hairpiece, has taken quite the liking to Miss Joanna. After giving them their large sodas, “That’ll be seven fifty.”

“Here’s a ten. Keep the change.” Joanna says with a wink.

“Uh, thanks.” Ralph gulps clearing his watered mouth whilst staring Jo up and down. “So, uh, ya likin’ the movies tonight?”

Frank’s to the side rolling his eyes. He can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Joanna replies laughingly, “Bloody good shows. But I’ve got to tell you, I’ve seen scarier.”

“I bet you have.” Laughs Ralph while watching Joanna work her straw with her tongue.

Joanna asks “Are you the only one workin’ tonight?”

“Yeah this dead end drive-in can’t afford to hire many people and the others had the night off. But I brought my brother Lenny to help me out tonight.”

“Lenny?” Frank inquires.

“Yeah, my younger brother Lenny but I think he’s out there seeing some friends or something.”

“I see.”

“Hey…” She says in a breathy voice.

“What?” Ralph straightens and becomes serious.

“Do you wanna see something really scary?”

“C’mon Joanna, we’re leaving.” Frank finally breaks his temporary silence. “Ralphie boy, we’ll see you later.” Sp the two disappear into the shadowy night…

…And when the second film finishes, Ralph’s night job gets a whole lot worse.

Long in the Tooth - Vampire story 1 of 4

Many, many moons ago (years in fact) my brother, Chris Langley, and I were planning what would be a large, sprawling vampire world with everyone and their stories loosely connected. Everything would essentially be in really short stories but of course would be part of a larger whole.


We would plan stories and I would write them. Sadly, life got in the way and only four got finished but we still have all the notes and plans for our big vampire world. Maybe we'll get back to it someday, hopefully we will. It might depend on you all. Here's the first of four I'll be posting this week. So from the mind of Chris Langley and myself, here's "Long in the Tooth". Also I want to mention that this hasn't been edited (for better or for worse).


Long in the Tooth


There she sat, the little girl with questions in her mind and worries in her heart. Waiting, lingering on every word her wise grandfather would share with her. Lilith enjoyed these talks with her grandfather Vernon. He always knew how to make her smile but often Vernon felt the loneliness that grew within her. IT spilled from her eyes, he would see.

“Grandfather,” Lilith began, “A boy at school called me a cattle feeder. What do you think he means?”

“Well,” He knew good and well what it meant.

“I mean, why would he say that, do you think?” She asked, obviously hurt.

“Maybe he likes you…” He proposed, nudging her arm.

“No, he’s just a jerk.”

And so Vernon sat there across from her at their round kitchen table. He knew he had to say something; anything to mend her broken little heart.

“Look… Lilly…” As he fumbled through his words, she continued staring at her glass of milk. “We’re not like other people, our family.”

“What do you mean?” Lilith asks placing her cheek in her palm.

“Well, do you know anything about DNA?”

“Nope.” She admitted shaking her head. “What’s DNA?”

“DNA is blood.”

“EW!” Erupted from the young girl, ringing in her grandfather’s ears. He shakes it off.

“You see, sweetie, our family has a different type of blood than most people.”

“Is that bad?”

“Eh, some believe so. But most people tend to hate something when they don’t understand it.”

“So that’s why the kids at school make fun of me? Because our blood is different?”

“In a way, yeah.”

“Why are people so mean? Why do they hate it when people are different?” Her questions came with tears. Vernon scoots his chair closer to his granddaughter to put his arms around her.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I just don’t know.” A tear trickles down his old and weathered cheek, and she bawls into his chest. He wants to tell her but doesn’t want to scare her. And then the feeling came. The feeling he had almost forgotten. It had been awhile and Vernon was drying out. His insides shrink and behind to dry causing his skin to wrinkle. His fingers extend slightly as did his fingernails. Vernon’s face caves in and his skin sags. His eyes are bloodshot, the eyes of a tired old dog. The grandfather’s teeth extend as well, some to finer points than others. The tops of his ear lobes grew to a point as his chin stretches slightly longer and slimmer.

“Grandfather?” Feeling his body morph, she becomes concerned. Concerned becomes scared when she pulled away from his embrace to see this beaten old soul. “Grandfather, what’s wrong!?” Lilith cries.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. Just… Getting old.” He sighed.

“How old are you?”

“I’m a lot older than you think, kiddo. You see, we’re very different from other people. Our bodies are different, our minds are different, and we age different. Though every one of us ages different as well.”

“Why do we age different, though? I don’t understand.”

“Some of us age very, very slowly so we’re actually older than what we look. Some slightly slower, some faster.”

“But why did you change?” And that was the real question.

“How about another glass of milk and then I’ll tell you.”

“Yeah!” She exclaimed.

And so he poured her another glass of plain white milk and a plate of cookies finished off their set up. Vernon sat down and took a long deep breath and tried to relax. Lilith was just too excited. A child who gets the inside scoop on the adults, finally, as she thought. After a minute of relaxing but concentrating Vernon returned to his cleaner, more fleshed out form.

“Lilith, I won’t be around forever. I’m drying out… and getting old.”

Her eyes welled up with tears, “But I don’t want you to die…”

“Oh, kitten, everyone dies. It just takes some of us longer than others.”

The tears rolled.

“I don’t want you to die and I don’t wanna die either! I don’t wanna!”

“There, there. Everything is okay. You’ll understand someday.” He said to comfort her. “See, it’s not about how much or how long you have. It’s what you do with it. Some people say what we have is a curse; a bad thing.” Vernon broke a chocolate chip cookie in half, handing her half. “Others believe it to be a good thing.”

“What do you think, Grandfather?” She asked with a chocolate spotted mouth.

“I think it’s like life,” Vernon began to explain, standing up. “It is what you make of it. Some people like us can take what we have and use it for good and some of us just want to take advantage of it all. You just gotta figure out where you stand.”

Still looking slightly lost, she nods as it starts sinking in.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, my dear Lilith, I must lie down. I’m very tired.” He said leaving the room slowly, as what he said echoed in her brain. And she just sat there staring at her cookies and glass of milk. Pondering if the glass was indeed half empty or half full.

“Which type am I?” She thought to herself.

As she got up from the table to pour out her milk, she stopped. It hit.

“Life… Is what you make of it.”

Down the Drain - A short story

Updated with a new cover by Mary Jo!

Hey guys, throwing up a short story here.  I wrote this one as you'd watch a classic slasher film from yesteryear, circa the 1980s.  I hope you enjoy.

Down the Drain

By Christopher Michael Carter

It was pouring out; raining so much that you couldn’t see individual drops, just steady streams from the sky. The little boy cried his eyes out cowering in the corner while cupping his hands to his hears trying to block out the noise of his father’s drunken rage. He was always drunk; drunk and all too often abusive to the boy and his mother. The father had just come home from work and was still in his work clothes, your average plumber’s attire. The rage started when dinner wasn’t ready by the time he got home; of course, he had already been drinking for some time. He took of his work belt and threw it down on the floor shouting obscenities before grabbing his wife. While the boy continued to whimper in fear his father shook his mother by her shoulders like she was a ragdoll. His wife cried and screamed. She tried to fight back but he was too strong for her. 

She pleaded and pleaded with him to no avail. He continued shoving her about while screaming in her face belittling her with foul names. The rain continued to pour outside and the boy and his mother’s tears poured inside. The drunken plumber became more enraged and began slapping his wife hard across the face leaving her face red. The sound was loud and painful to the ears. The boy had enough and wiped off his tears, throwing them to the side. His little fists clenched as he stood up in anger. Upon marching over to the madness that was his parents, he grabbed his father’s plumber’s wrench out of his tool belt. It was heavy, almost too heavy for such a young boy. In the momentum of the hectic situation the parents never heard their son approach them. With his adrenaline pumping and all the might he could muster the boy bluntly smashed is father’s head in saving his mother from the monster she married. The father fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes but the boy didn’t stop there.

He swung down over his head striking his father repeatedly with the large wrench, which became wet with blood. The kid’s heart beat almost as hard as the blows he was delivering. Though there was a nugget of gratitude in the back of her mind, the boy’s mother watched in fear while crying. The floor was a bloody mess as the boy smashed the plumber’s head to pulp. The boy dropped the wrench and his mother rushed to him, “Brenton!” She held him, consoling him with his face in a state of permanent shock. All you could see of the man lying on the floor is a heap of tenderized, bloodied flesh in a plumber’s uniform.

Later, the cops and paramedics arrived to assess the situation. A body bag and various containers help take the dead man out of the house. While the mother was scared, angry, and deeply saddened, the incident had taken a larger toll on the boy. They tried everything but by the end of it all the boy was institutionalized and would show no signs of recovery. In one day the woman lost her husband and her son.


20 YEARS LATER


The doorbell rang and the kind lady answered the door promptly. It was the plumber.
“Hi, ma’am; somebody call a plumber?” Said the man tipping his hat.
“Oh, why yes. Please, right this way.” And so she led him to the kitchen…
“It’s the sink. It’s not working right.”
The plumber tried turning the faucet’s knobs and it regurgitated clunks and clanks. “Alrighty, I’ll have ya fixed up in a jiffy.”
“I’m gonna watch my show with Mr. Muffins. Just let me know when you’re done.” She said picking up her white pillow fluff of a cat. She patted him on the arm and retired to the next room.

The plumber set his toolbox down on the linoleum and climbed down to the floor, opening up the cabinet beneath the sink. He shined his light on the pipes and spotted almost immediately the problem, “Ah, that’s it.” 

Footsteps are heard on the floor nearby. 

“Think I found the problem.” He said pulling his head out of the cabinet. He looked up to find a dark mysterious figure, shrouded in a black cloak and gloves. The being stood with his head covered in a black hood covering his face. 

“What the hell?”

The figure uncovered a plunger from the darkness that coats it. The man on the floor lay silent, confused and lost. 

“Wha-what do you want?” Plenty to ask but these were the words that managed to fight their way out. 

The black gloves twisted the plunger’s handle extracting a blade from the center of its suction cup. The plumber’s eyes grew twice their size and he flinched back. His heartbeat sped and he realized he wasn’t breathing. When the shadow-like form stepped forward the man’s eyes caught the gleam of the blade from the overhead florescent light and almost in an instant the rapid heart steadied, slowed, and faded when the knifed plunger was plunged into the plumber’s head. Quicker than his life left his killer had fled.

There was no movement or response when little Mr. Muffins came to nuzzle up to the stranger.

Yet another knock on yet another door… 

“Oh, thank God you’re here.” The woman started. “My husband said he’d get to it but he’s at work and the toilet’s completely flooding the bathroom. Come on in.”

She led the unsuspecting plumber to the closed door. Opening said door let him know what he was in for, almost. The toilet, as she said, was flooding the bathroom floor with almost an inch of water. The man set his toolbox on the sink. “Okay, I’ll take a look at it and get started.” He told the panicked housewife. 

“Ah, thank you. I’ll be back.” And so she left him to his profession. First he tried flushing it to see if it had any give, with no results. Then, naturally, he took off the tank’s lid to have a look. It wasn’t looking good. So the dirty part of his job was having him kneel on the flooded tiled and reach his hand in the bowl – no dice. 

The plumber stood up and dried his hand. Her head peeked back into the room. “Could I offer you some iced tea?” Asked the lady. 

“Um, actually, yeah if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Be back in a minute.”

As she left he kneeled back down to check the pipe behind the toilet. 

“Aha, just as I thought.” He stood back up to get a wrench and vice grips when he saw something. Something, someone was standing behind him. Drenched in black and draped in shadow, the shape grabbed the plumber by the back of his hair. He gasped.

“Ugh!” The plumber exclaimed as the coal black form kicked the back of his left knee, dropping him to the floor. The man flailed his elbows back in hopes to fend off his attacker with no luck. 

The killer plunged the plumber’s head into the overflowing toilet and left him in there long after the fighting bubbles of air had stopped. By the time the housewife returned with the iced tea, complete with a wedge of lemon, she had found her guest face down in the stool, lifeless and the doer of such deeds once again fled from the scene. Needless to say, the glass was dropped and she screamed for a solid minute before calling 9-1-1, her husband, and everyone she knew in a panic. 

Another house, in the flooding basement, a man stood in shin-deep water. “Damn it!” The man screamed trying to stop the flow.
“Honey, the plumber’s here!” His wife yelled from upstairs.
“Finally!” The man replied in frustration. The plumber came down the steps with his toolbox in hand. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Yeah, well you’re here now so it’s okay. Let’s just get the water to stop.”
“I’m gonna shut off the main line.” The plumber used his flashlight in the dark basement to find the valve needed. “Here it is.” The worker used a familiar wrench to turn off the line and the water finally stops gushing and comes to a drip. “Alright, now let’s see about fixing this leak…”
“Honey, your dad’s on the phone!” The aggravated man’s wife yelled from upstairs.
“Alright, I’m coming!” He replied. “I’ll be back.” He told the plumber before exiting upstairs. The city worker continued looking over the pipes.

After a few minutes of looking over the waterworks he heard the steps from the staircase, “Buddy, I think I found the problem: this pipe is corroded.” The plumber turned around to see not the man of the house but a dark figure all too familiar to us, dear reader.

“Uh, hello?” The plumber was confused. “I thought you were the other guy.” The shadowy form stood silently and the plumber grew annoyed, “Do you…live here?” The man in black stood in a solid stance with his black hood on darkening his face. He revealed his plunger and twisted the handle and the plumber’s flashlight gleamed off of the blade extended from the center of the plunger’s cup.

“What the hell is this?” The man asked. They were the last words out of his mouth as the killer also revealed a large wrench and threw it smashing the plumber’s knee dropping him to the water. He grunted and groaned but couldn’t get a word out as his attacker approached him with the plunger blade. With one solid blow the killer stabbed the then-crippled man in the back of the head pushing his face down into the flooding water. Bubbles popped up in the bloody water.

Another five to ten minutes pass, and the man of the house is finally off of the phone with his father. He came downstairs to check on the progress, “Well, how’re we lookin’?” He noticed the plumber’s body face down in the water. “Oh God…” The man ran back upstairs to call the police. 

The frequent murders hit the news in a hurry. The newscasters sat behind their desks with the image of a plunger on the screens beside them. 

“More plumbers brutally killed in the most bizarre string of murders we’ve seen in a decade.”

Every news station covered the incidents.
“Plumbers go on strike in wake of serial killings.”
“Plumbers Union demand protection from the police.”
“Pipes continue to be backed up while the strike continues.”

The news vendor on the corner was selling magazines like crazy as every paper and magazine covered the string of murders. The story was selling like hotcakes and the vendors were making a killing.

Meanwhile at the city police station…
The captain stood at his desk surrounded by officers, “Alright, listen up; we got some feds come in here so this operation will be theirs. I don’t wanna hear any guff. We need to be in complete compliance if we expect to catch this guy. Okay?”
His fellow officers agreed with nods, grunts, and “Yes sirs”.
A man entered the office, “Captain, they’re here.”
“Alright; everyone back to work.” The small crowd dispersed and the captain made himself presentable. The agents entered, both in black suits.
“I’m Agent Malone and this is Agent Hardwick.”
“Glad you’re here.” The policeman shakes hands with the agents. The captain continued, “How do you suppose we go about catching this creep?”
The agents looked at each other before looking back at the determined officer, “We have an idea…”

In the back of a windowless white van sat the two agents, the captain and now another man with a wire taped to his chest. The wired man was in a plumber’s uniform and was buttoning up his dark blue shirt.
“Okay,” Agent Hardwick started, “You know what to do?”
“Yeah.” The man answered while Agent Malone worked on the recorder.
“We’ll be listening for when he shows up.”
“Okay.”
“Wait.” The captain spoke up, “What about him? What happens if he’s killed?”
“Tom here is a former Navy Seal. I don’t think he’s going to have any problems.” Agent Hardwick smirked.
“How do we even know he’s going to show up?” The captain had his doubts.
“We sent out a message…”

In the local paper an ad was placed “In desperate need of a plumber! Please help!”

The new plumber approached the door of the house chosen for such a sting and rang the doorbell. A actress chosen answered and upon greeting him tugged on her ear; he whistled two notes before entering the house.
“So where seems to be the trouble?” The man asked.
“Oh, it’s in the kitchen. Every time I turn on the faucet it sounds like it’s about to explode.” The woman stated before giving a nervous look around.
“Alright, I’ll take a look at it.”
“I have things to tend to if you’re okay here…”
“Yes ma’am, I’m good.”
“Okay…” The actress left the man to fix the sink. He kept an eye out as he lowered himself to the floor into the open cabinets. He pretended to be doing a plumber’s job while listening carefully. Patience was part of this man’s training and isn’t anxious at all. He hammered and clanked around to give the illusion of progress.

Out in the van the feds waited patiently while the captain was far more inquisitive, “Well, what’s going on?”
“He’s working. We have to give him time and let him create the scene.” The agents returned to silence, listening in on the headsets while the police captain drummed his fingertips on his knee.

Inside, the man chosen for the assignment continued to play his role while his colleague, playing the woman of the house, was secured in a locked bedroom down the hall. She sat on the bed in fear despite her ever present professionalism and awaiting the jump off. Tom, the former Seal, awaited his attacker. Everyone stayed planted in their stations eagerly waiting for the killer to make his presence known. The plumber repositioned under the sink and a sound caught his ear; a floor creaking from the other room along with other movement. The man starring as ‘the Plumber’ watched the doorway in the reflection of a small pocket mirror. The space remained vacant until a dark shape filled the void. The killer stepped into the doorway with his boots landing firmly on the linoleum.

It was time to act; the undercover plumber played surprised. “It should work just fine now-WHOA!”

Out in the van, the team who assembled this web was alert.
“Shh, wait! I got something!” Agent Malone said.

Tom’s hands were up as the two men had a standoff in the kitchen. “What’s going on?” The maniac draped in black revealed his trusty plunger from the blackness that was his cloak-like coat. The plumber saw the plunger and appeared slightly confused. His hands came down upon seeing the plunger and he smirked followed by a chuckle. The black gloved hands twist the weapon’s handle and the killing blade is revealed from its usual spot. Tom’s facial expression changed.

Out in the van, the agents motioned that it was time to pounce.
“Let’s put this to bed!” Agent Hardwick said as the men exited the van.

Back in the kitchen, the killer thrust his weapon at the plumber who dodged the blade and countered with a punch and a kick. Neither blow seemed to have affected the shadowed man who tries to stab at his victim again. This time he’s successful barely catching Tom in his side with the self-made plunger/knife combo. “Ugh!” He yelled gripping at his side before continuing to fight back. He kicked the weapon from the killer’s grip and delivered a couple of jabs to the dark figure. The undercover man’s comeback was short-lived as the killer caught a fist in mid-punch only to crush it in his grip. The shadow man’s strength was unbelievable even to a man of Tom’s decorated accomplishments. The former Navy Seal didn’t get to make another move as his attacker grabbed his throat and lifted him up off the ground single handed. His grip was tight and the man was blacking out fast. His hand was crushed and his windpipe was next.

BLAM!

A shot rang out. BLAM! BLAM! Another two shots followed and the killer dropped the undercover man. The two agents and the police captain rushed into the room with their guns drawn to find the woman holding a smoking revolver still poised even as the killer lied on the ground. The woman looked to be running on adrenaline and wouldn’t detour her aim. The three men in the doorway looked at each other before the captain went over to her to retrieve the weapon.

“He’s down. It’s okay. You did good. It’s okay…” He gently got the handgun from the scared actress. She was shaken. While the captain removed the woman in shock from the kitchen Agent Malone checked the killer while Agent Hardwick tended to the man down. The agents gave each other a look and a slight nod.

The media rejoiced in the stopping of the killer, “We have gotten word that the killer has been stopped.”
More news jumped on the story, “Plumber strike comes to an end after serial killer’s caught.”

Later in the station the captain sits in his office explaining the outcome to his fellow officers, “He had not only locked the door behind him but moved a chair in front of the door so it took us a while to break through.”
“So who shot him?” An officer asked.
“The actress…”
The feds entered the office next and the other officers knew it was time to go. They left Malone and Hardwick alone with their captain.
“Well Tom’s getting medical care. He’ll be fine.” Agent Hardwick spoke.
“…And the killer?”
“Still alive. He’s being moved back to St. Christopher’s Mental Hospital. His name is Brenton Bannister. Apparently he’s been a patient there for twenty years until his escape earlier this year.” Agent Malone answered. 

“And when he was a boy he killed his father, a plumber.” Agent Hardwick added. 

“So he was just some escaped nut? He was pretty strong and it took three shots just to get him down.” The confused captain stated. 

“We attribute that to years of being heavily medicated along with his mental state…” 

“You’d be surprised what your mind can change in you physically.” Agent Malone finished his partner’s information. 

“How’d he get out?” The captain asked scratching his head. 

“That’s one we haven’t yet figured out yet…” Agent Hardwick answered. 

“Well it looks like you got him. The strike’s over. Everything’s goin’ back to normal now. …But what about the girl?”

The agents looked at each other before answering, “She’ll need some therapy but beyond that she’ll be fine.”

“Captain…” The agents extended their hands and so the captain shook them nodding. Agents Malone and Hardwick exited the captain’s office and the policeman went back to work. 

In St. Christopher’s Mental Hospital, Brenton Bannister laid bandaged in the bed of his white-walled room. He stared straight up without blinking with an unquenched anger beneath his eyes. The boy who grew up in asylums was now a man and without his shroud of darkness. He could hear the other patients beyond his cell but he never paid them any attention; only listening to whatever was in his warped mind. Slowly a devilish grin crawled across his face.


The doorbell rang and an older man answered the door to find the plumber standing with his gear, “…Somebody call a plumber?”

Project Update

Well gang I'm back to playing the octopus, working on several things at once.  More often than not I feel more comfortable working like this.  There is so much to do this year in the hopes to get my name and work out there.

Currently I'm working on finishing up a horror anthology with my wife and co-writer A.D. Simms.  It's got a real oddball Twilight Zone feel to it.  It's coming along and should be finished soon.  As those close to me know it's been a bit of a hard write for me but I'm proud of the stories.  It's very different and very creative.  At one point we weren't sure whether or not to really call this a horror book but I had pointed out that I think it IS a horror book but for people who don't normally get into the genre.

The other is a horror anthology I'm writing solo.  These stories are actually from horror movie scripts I had written that I felt weren't working out in that medium.  I stripped the screenplay formatting down and slightly fleshed out the stories a bit more.  Unlike the anthology I'm co-writing, this book is quite brutal and violent.  It's much darker overall and instead of playing with your head like the stories in the other book, these go right for the throat.  Since these stories are directly from film scripts, reading them is like watching a horror film in many ways.

I'm excited to get both of these books out.  Two different sets of different kinds of horror!

Very soon I will be getting back to my sci-fi book.  I'm very excited about this.  As a creator, I'm excited about all of them, but sometimes you'll find some more intriguing than others. 

I had been kicking around another sci-fi idea of mine and I emailed my publisher the rough outline/basis of it kind of to test the waters and see what she thought.  To my joy, she loved it!  So I will be getting to that one sometime down the road.  I've always loved science fiction but have rarely written it.  Lately, however, sci-fi ideas have been pouring out of me.

I'm VERY excited to mention two projects I have starting THIS MONTH! ...However, sadly, I can't tell you what they are.  But I will say I'm co-writing TWO different projects, each with a dear close friend.  THEY couldn't be more pumped and *I* can't be more pumped!  It's an exciting time to have friends like mine.  These works are going to be amazing.  Both projects are in two different mediums and whenever I've spoken with my friends/co-writers on them, they have SO MANY great ideas.  I can't be more excited.  Right now on both stories we're in the research and mapping out stage while I continue to finish the pair of horror books. 

It's an odd time right now.  Things never look quite as busy as they are.  All people really know of my work is my poetry book that's out or if they're my friends they know that I have a lot of ideas but there is A LOT of work going on at the moment and I cannot wait for everyone to get to see it all.

Gun Control for Polar Bears is still available.  I hope you all get a copy, of course.

Mine and Dennis Magnant's comic book Tourniquet is slow-moving but it's getting there.  Unfortunately Dennis has been having some health issues regarding his shoulder which is preventing him from doing a lot of drawing right now.  I'm not worried about the book; it's coming.  But I'm very worried about my friend not being able to enjoy his life to the fullest due to these issues.  He's such a good dude and he can't really do the things that he enjoys because of his shoulder and it's terribly sad.  He's brought it up to me a couple of times about writing Tourniquet as a book and while he takes a hiatus to heal it'd probably be a good time to do so.  I'll probably base it off of the original comic script I had written and sent to him so it'll slightly different than the finished comic book; which I think will be kind of fun for readers.

There are so many projects to be done.  These are really just the projects I can kind of tell you about at the moment.  I'm wanting to self publish my play and put some of my artwork on Etsy but right now I'm trying to get through these books. 

I hope you all stick with me on this journey.
Thank you.

The Last Man on Mars

A couple of years ago I sat down at the computer and pulled up the standard Paint program usually played around with by kids.  As someone who'd written a good deal of comic works I'd had a lot of trouble getting an artist who would work with me so I wanted to experiment with something; I wanted to see if I could make a comic using such an inexpensive program.  I made up this dark little story as I went and, since I'm no artist, I did the best I could with a more experimental style.  I haven't really attempted to do another, obviously more refined comic with it but I'll probably give it a shot someday.  The idea of keeping everything down in numbers and more DIY is very appealing to me.  Usually when I partner with other people whether it's an artist or co-writer I prefer to keep our numbers small.  But here is my little experiment, The Last Man on Mars.