Saturday, December 15, 2018

Monday, December 3, 2018

Saturday, December 1, 2018

Thursday, November 29, 2018

Monday, November 26, 2018

Thursday, November 22, 2018

Monday, November 19, 2018

Saturday, November 17, 2018

A Tasty Treat


Thursday, November 15, 2018

By zorinblitzz




See More Here
(And follow zorinblitzz on Instagram)

Monday, November 12, 2018

Truth

Saturday, November 10, 2018

Thursday, November 8, 2018

Monday, November 5, 2018

Saturday, November 3, 2018

Thursday, November 1, 2018

Saturday, October 27, 2018

Friday, October 26, 2018

The Last Hellfighter by Thomas S. Flowers


The Last Hellfighter
by Thomas S. Flowers

Genre: Historical Fiction/Horror
Publisher: Darker Worlds Publishing
Date of Publication: Aug 10, 2018
ISBN: 1724369202
ASIN: B07FFND86J

Number of pages: 277 (Kindle)
410 (paperback)

Word Count: 78K

Cover Artist: Michael Bray

Tagline: They thought vampires were fantasy. They were wrong.

Book Description:

In the year 2044, reporters from the Public Relations Ministry gather at the home of Benjamin Harker, the last surviving member of the Harlem Hellfighters. At the age of 144, he is the oldest recorded man alive. Hidden among them, Clyde Bruner is looking for a different kind of story. Across the United States, despite the Great Walls and patrol drones built to keep America secure, something has found its way in. And now towns are vanishing during the night. Entire populations, gone. Only to return after the sun sets, changed, unholy, and lethal. And whatever this evil is, its spreading west.

According to a bedtime story Bruner’s grandfather told him when he was a boy, Benjamin Harker has seen this before. He’s faced this scourge. Fought this evil. Survived them. Killed them. From the trenches of the Great War to the jungles of Vietnam to the sands of Iraq, Harker will search his past to save our future.

But as each city light extinguishes across the country, is there no time left to stop what’s coming?


Excerpt:

“Hey, Mr. Green. Any ships due in tonight?”
“Huh?” the older man grunted, his full attention glued to the small box television set. Family Feud was on and Silas never missed an episode. As long as Julius had worked with him at least, in these past four months on the night shift, the seasoned longshoreman who acted very content with his life—who moved slow and never liked causing “trouble,” as he called it, to his superiors, could recite the most complex trivia questions.
Julius looked back to his monitor. Part of his job was to watch for ships that may have wandered off course, or even scheduled docks on the quay. The program displayed on his monitor was linked to AIS Marine database that monitored all vessel traffic around the world. He kept the screen displaying his assigned port—which showed a few red, which meant docked and inactive. The one that concerned him was another ship, inbound and blinking green.
“Mr. Green?” Julius pressed. 
The older black man sighed loudly, turning away from his small TV screen. “What? Why the hell would—listen son, you can’t let this job spook you. Working nights on the dock, I know, the long hours can get to you. But trust me, this sure beats working days out in that sun all day offloading ships.”
“But look,” the younger longshoreman pointed his screen.
Frowning, Silas rolled his chair over to the computer monitor. The green blinking ship reflected off his thick glasses. He pushed them back up on his nose, “That ain’t nothing, probably just a glitch in the system.”
Julius looked at the screen and then out the large window that overlooked the Port of Jerusalem. He’d just moved to town not more than six months prior from Bangor and he wanted to make a good impression.
“Okay,” the younger man said.
Silas nodded in quiet victory and rolled back over to watch his show.
Julius continued glaring at the blinking green ship as it approached the port on the screen. He swallowed hard as it inched closer and closer. He glanced at the old man as he howled at some man on the TV having missed a question that Silas thought was a “no brainer.”  On the monitor, the green blinking ship was upon them. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead.
Closer.
And closer.
“Mr. Green, I don’t think is a glitch,” Julius protested.
Exhaling loudly, Silas stood and turned. “Listen, young blood, I’ve been doing this job for twenty years and I’ve never heard of no ship coming in that wasn’t on the manifest.”
Julius shrugged. “Yeah, but…” he gestured to the screen.
“There is no ship coming—”
Just outside, a large wave crashed against the port levee walls. A thunderous metallic screech vibrated off the walls of the little trailer office on the wharf. Manuals and notebooks and ship logs fell from the shelves as the ground itself felt as if it was opening. The small TV still playing Family Feud rattled off the table and crashed to the floor, sizzling out. The florescent bulbs above them burst raining shards of glass and casting the room into a yellow gloom. The horrendous grinding seemed to go on forever, shaking and shuddering the world.
And then it was over.
Silas Green was the first to prop himself off the floor. Looking around cautiously, as if any wrong move would send the world into chaos again.
Julius propped himself up, moving into a crouch. He peeked through the blinds. “What the heck was that?”
“Shit!” the older man hissed.
Julius glanced over his shoulder at him. “What? You okay?”
Silas held up what remained of his TV. “No, damn tube is busted.”
Shaking his head, Julius peered back out the blinds. “I think we should go check the dock.” He stood, not waiting for approval and went through the door of the office.
“Hold on, young blood.” Silas gave the TV a final kiss—he’d had the device for more years than he cared to confess, and then set it down on the floor as gently as he could. Standing, he opened the bottom drawer of his desk and retrieved a flashlight.
Outside, Silas trotted to catch up with Julius who was standing at the edge of the wharf looking up into the gloom.
“Somethings out there,” the young man said.
Silas wafted the fog around his head. “Can’t see shit out here.”
“Use the flashlight,” Julius suggested without taking his gaze from in front of him.
“Oh,” Silas grunted, flicking on the switch. A beam of bright white broke apart the misty smoke like haze. He shined out toward the wharf and at first still could not see anything. And then the fog parted as if controlled by some unknown force, separating and unfolding around a large cargo ship.
Silas traced the hull to the edge of the ship deck. “Mother of God,” he whispered, taken back by the sudden massive size of the ship. He’d never been this close to one. The larger vessels normally dock at Freeport. 
Julius stepped toward him, asking, “What do we do?”
The older man couldn’t think—this wasn’t on the schedule, the ship manifest, nothing. This ship shouldn’t be here. The harbourmaster would have said something. Hell, his superintendent would have damn sure said something. It would have been on the log. Silas moved the beam of light to the wharf itself, noting the broken shards of rock in the thick cement and the thick crack in the hull of the ship. It was taking on water for sure—it hadn’t even bothered slowing down. It ploughed into the quay. But why? Wasn’t there someone steering this damn thing? This wasn’t right. Something about this—everything about this wasn’t right.
“Mr. Green?” Julius pressed, whispering hotly.
Silas looked at him, the kid was rattled; he was rattled. He took a deep breath. “Okay, listen, I’m going to call this in—pray the lines in the office are still operating. Here, take the flashlight.” He handed it to Julius. “Stay put, yell out if you see anyone. Some dumbass is going to pay bigtime for this screwup and it ain’t going to be you or me.”
He gave one final glance at the monstrous freighter and started off for the office. Inside, he could use the phone on the floor. He scooped it up and dialed his supervisor.
“Green, there better be a good fucking reason why you’re calling me at—” Silas’s superintendent started through the speaker of the phone.
“A ship crashed into the port,” Silas blurted.
“What?”
“A ship, some damn cargo ship. Large motherfucker.”
“Are you fucking with me?”
“No, I ain’t fucking with you, sir. A cargo ship crashed into the port, took a good-sized chunk out of our wharf too.”
“Was it on the manifest?”
“No—that’s what I’m saying. This ship ain’t supposed to be—”
A scream from outside on the dock jarred Silas from the phone.
“Julius, what the hell was that?”
“Green, what’s going on?” his superintendent asked, sounding more and more irritated.
Silence.
“Green?”
“Hold on, sir.” Silas set down the phone, ignoring the muffled protest from his superintendent on the line. He glared at the open door and crept toward it. There were no other sounds, and he didn’t like that one bit.
Stepping outside he called, “Julius?”
It was hard to see through the fog as it rolled across the walkway.
Silas squinted, peering through the gloom turned yellow by the glow of the dock lights. “Julius, what’s going on?” he called to the dark shape in front of him.
And then he heard it.
A sucking sound.
He stopped.
The dark shape unfolded.
The fog parted slightly, revealing a tall, bald woman with pale skin. Her eyes burned red. She was looking at him with an expression of mild satisfaction, the look of a thirsty soul finally getting a cup of water. She was holding Julius, cradling him almost as if they were dancing.
“Who are—” Silas started, until he saw her teeth, her large fanged front teeth, salivating in blood. He took a step back as she let Julius go. His body crumbled to the wet dock.
“No,” Silas managed to say, like a child refusing to go to bed.

And then she was upon him. 

About the Author:


Who doesn't love a good story? Thomas's favorite books include All Quiet on the Western Front, Salem's Lot, and Hell House.

In his own writings, he aspires to create fantastic worlds with memorable characters and haunted places. His stories range from Shakespearean gore, classic monster tales, and even stories that hurt him the most to write about, haunted soldiers and PTSD. Residing in the swamps of Houston, Texas, with his wife and daughter, Thomas's debut novel, Reinheit, was eventually published with Shadow Work Publishing, along with Lanmò, The Hobbsburg Horror, FEAST, Beautiful Ugly, and Planet of the Dead.

His veteran focused paranormal thriller series, The Subdue Series, filled with werewolves, Frankenstein-inspired monsters, cults, alter-dimensional insects, witches, and the undead are published with Limitless Publishing.

In 2008, Thomas was honorably discharged from the U.S. Army where he served three tours in Operation Iraqi Freedom. In 2014, Thomas graduated from University of Houston-Clear Lake with a Bachelors in History. He is the senior editor at Machine Mean, a site that reviews horribly awesome and vintage horror movies and books from guest contributors who obsess over a wide range of strange yet oddly related topics.






Newsletter Sign Up https://bit.ly/2onPLYV

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thursday, October 25, 2018

Now Available as an Audio Book! BLOOD TENDERLY, a Paranormal Horror Romance by Linda Mooney Writing as Gail Smith



BLOOD TENDERLY
Paranormal Horror Romance
by Linda Mooney Writing as Gail Smith
Word Count:  11K
$1.99 e / $6.99 p / $6.95 a

Narrated by Linda Mooney
Length: 1 hr, 22 min
Hear a Sample


With the cold weather quickly setting in, Lark is trying to ensure she has what she needs to make it through another bone-chilling winter in the cabin in the woods, but something has decided to pay her a visit. The question is, who? Or better yet, what?

There is a human invading his sanctuary, and he is determined to get rid of her. Humans in the past have left of their own accord, but not without a threat from him. However, this one is proving difficult. But she’ll go. One way or another, he will make her.

The thing is demanding that Lark leave, but she has nowhere to go. No one who cares.  So she's determined to stand her ground.

After all, what does she have to lose, besides her life?


Excerpt and Buy Links

Saturday, October 20, 2018

Haunted by Darkness by Raven M. Williams and Jena Baxter




Haunted by Darkness
by Raven M. Williams and Jena Baxter

Genre: Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Fantasy, Fairytales
Publisher: Raven Williams
Date of Publication: 12/5/16

ISBN: 978-1540861559
ASIN: B01MSVY7Z8

Number of pages: 494
Word Count: 110818

Cover Artist: Raven Williams

Book Description:

These are not your childhood tales!

Haunted by Darkness is a collection of eight Dark Fantasy Tales and Legends from the minds of Jena Baxter and Raven Williams. Experience the Darkness as you step further away from the Light.

Raven's Tales

Fall into Darkness, A Realm Jumper Chronicles Origins Story:
The darkness within brings a great downfall.

Rise of the Dark Witch, A Realm Jumper Chronicles Origins Story: Sometimes a person is beyond redemption.

Witch Hunter's Rise, A Witch Hunter's Society Origins Story: When darkness falls, death awaits.

Witch Hunter Ordained, A Witch Hunter's Society Origins Story: Will his dark deeds end when vengeance is had?

Jena's Tales

Belshazzar: The Gods rest in eternal sleep while their appointed Guardian for men and supernatural creatures is going mad.

Eyes of the Gods: A lonely phoenix returns to his home in Misty Haven to die, until he hears a song that cuts to the heart of his being.

Children of the Moon: Tormented by dreams and exhausted, Raven is sent to live with her aunt where she is lulled into a dreamless sleep by a haunting melody.

Hunted: Cursed by the Queen of Fairies and hunted by men, Darla must find true love or remain a deer forever.

Amazon      Kobo      iTunes      BN      Mystic Realms



Chapter 1
Victorian London
Lucien closed his eyes and tucked his violin under his chin, placed the bow to strings and began to play. Long notes with a bittersweet edge embodied the atmosphere, like a ship floating, lost, its crew and sails forever lost at sea.
A door slammed in the background, and something heavy pounded the floor. Lucien's eyebrows knitted in frustration, as a discordant note sliced through the illusion he created. He placed the instrument on an end table, and stormed out of the library, into the parlor.
His brother, Edward, stood near the entry, loosening his cravat. He nodded. "Lucien."
"What are you doing slamming into the house like a herd of elephants?"
The material slid off Edward's neck, and his lips curled into a pout. "Annabelle has decided to marry Merrill Brighton," he said, with a huff. "That leaves me starting over, or marrying Winnifred Camden."
Lucien didn't think Winnifred was so bad. She had a few love handles, but that just added to her personality somehow. His brother on the other hand, wanted someone with riches and popularity. Lucien frowned and shifted. "What does that have to do with your conduct? Please settle the affairs of your love life without tearing down the house? Even Winnifred won't want a man with a poor disposition."
"Easy for you to say. Ladies hang on your every word." He smiled, "Or should I say note?" He sat at the piano, and ran his hands over the keys. Soft sounds poured into the room like a whisper.
Lucien sighed, and pulled his coat from the rack. While he loved his brother's piano, he wanted to play violin and he couldn't do it with the other music in the background. "I'm going for a walk."
"Shouldn't be out alone tonight," Edward said. "The moon is full, and it's children will roam seeking their next meal, as the night wears on."
Lucien scoffed. "Fairytales written to frighten children. Don't be absurd."
Edward laughed, and the door slammed shut behind Lucien. Not that he was angry, he understood Edward's frustration. A gentleman needed to find a woman of wealth to settle with in order to live in comfort, unless he had a fortune of his own. Lucien didn't worry about such things. He would rather spend his time making music. Everyone fell into the hands of destiny anyway, the cards would fall where they wanted, changing the course of a man's life, and shaping his future in ways he never dreamed. A pleasant chill climbed up his back. Where would his music take him? Would he be able to perform in great halls, or be forced to settle with a woman, warming a bed and creating babies for her comfort?
The moon hovered bright over the city, and sparkles of light danced on the surface of the Themes. Lucien stopped to watch, breathing in the cool night air. His favorite kind of evening after a warm, summer day. Frustration rolled off his shoulders in waves. He began to relax and continued on his way.
footsteps shuffled behind him. He stopped and glanced back. Nothing but the moon and it's shadows disturbed the darkness of night. A bird screeched overhead, and he jumped, as he resumed his walk. The footsteps resumed when he continued walking. When he stopped again, they did too. Could there be something to the moon children myth? Goosebumps covered his skin as he turned and squinted to see better, but there was still only darkness. He took a deep breath and shrugged the tension out of his shoulders. He was being foolish.
The shuffling stopped when he turned toward the city, and soon he wondered if it had been the work of an over-active imagination. His anger giving rise to the absurd. His shoulders dropped, and he relaxed, as new threads of music filled his mind. He hummed them as he walked, until the shadow of a man came into view up the lane. Lucien tensed, was someone waiting for him? He turned left at the corner, but moments later, the silhouette stood waiting once more. He turned again.
It had to be someone else. No one could move that fast. How many people were out this evening? Maybe it had something to do with the moon. His brother's words echoed in his mind. He turned again, and shuddered when he saw the silhouette of the man waiting.
Lucien's heart raced. He spun and jogged back the way he came. In seconds, the silhouette blocked him, but this time it was closer. His chest tightened as the man moved toward him, his stride like a feral cat. For a moment, all Lucien could do was stare.
Lucien broke the spell, spun around and ran. The chest he crashed into was solid as cement. Muscled arms encompassed him. He kicked his feet and twisted, but the man's grip tightened.
"Don' worry," a smooth voice crooned.
Lucien shuddered.
"We'll be done in just a few minutes."

About the Author Raven Williams


A prolific writer, Raven began her career in 2010 with a blog and non-fiction, then moving to fiction in 2014, when she began Elven-Jumper, the first book in the Realm.

Jumper Chronicles. She now has 30 books to her name, spanning the Realm Jumper Chronicles, Raven’s Twisted Classics, and the Demon Stones Saga, as well as her non-fiction, with more planned.

When Raven is not writing, she is creating art in the form of abstract paintings, fractal designs, and jewelry pieces that tie into her stories. She is also a caregiver for a disabled family member and two cats. She physically resides in the Northwest Florida Panhandle, but spends most of her time mentally in her Mystic Realms.

Will you join her?

Sign-up for Raven’s Newsletter here: https://mysticrealmscurioshop.com/newsletter-sign-up


Raven’s Mystic Realms FB Page: https://www.facebook.com/mysticrealmscurioshop/







About the Author Jena Baxter



A prolific writer, Jena Baxter creates characters with depth and stories filled with action, emotion, and a little bit of romance. She loves building fantastical worlds and cultures.



Living in Northern California with her husband, Jena enjoys soapmaking, her pets, and writer's conferences. She also reads for a screenwriting contest on an annual basis.












a Rafflecopter giveaway


Friday, October 19, 2018

WARLOCK HOLMES by G.S. Denning



What do you think of when someone mentions Sherlock Holmes? The epitome of fictional detectives? A series of stories so timely and so visionary that they revolutionized police-work, the world over? A deerstalker? A pipe? Benedict Cumberbatch’s perfect cheek-bones?

You wouldn’t be wrong.

But in this season of fun-filled frights, let’s take a moment to reflect on one oft-overlooked aspect of the world’s favorite detective:

He’s really creepy.

No. Seriously. Just pleasantly-but-sometimes-right-to-the-edge-of-discomfortingly creepy.

Do you know where the modern tradition of Halloween takes its roots? Dartmoor. Arthur Conan Doyle repeatedly set his adventures out upon the moor in abandoned hallows filled with lethal peat-bogs, fog, reeds and wisp-light. Want to see Holmes and Watson chasing a seemingly-demonic hound across moonlit moor? Well then, it’s no wonder Hound of the Baskervilles is amongst the most popular of Doyle’s original 60 stories.

Now, if you want to see them chasing an actually-demonic hound across a moonlit moor, you’ll have to check out my second book: Hell-hound of the Baskervilles. And for those of you who just rolled their eyes at how easy it must have been for me to come up with that angle: yeah, that’s sort of my point. You don’t have to work hard to make Sherlock Holmes macabre. It’s there already.

One of the less-known stories is called The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire; it features a mother who’s been caught sucking blood out of the neck of her own infant. Even in 1898, not great parenting.

Or how about The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb? It features not just the aforementioned disembodied thumb, but also its owner, trapped in a room-sized hydraulic press, debating if he should stand up, or sit down or lie face up or… Well, just what exactly is the least-painful way to be slowly crushed to death? It’s ironic that the modern detective story is attributed to Edgar Alan Poe, because in moments such as these, Doyle absolutely equals Poe’s famous brand of dark introspection. 

Or maybe you’d just like to see Sherlock murder a dog. Would that be nice? Dog murder, anyone?

Because that’s how he unravels his very first case, A Study in Scarlet. Yep. No lie. To figure out if the pills he’s recovered are poisonous, he steals his neighbor-girl’s dog and feeds it half of each pill. 

Guess what? (1887 spoilers follow…) Totally poison. There is something uniquely Halloween-ish about a character who thinks that is acceptable behavior. Oh yeah, and half the people he meets seem to think the only way he could possibly know the things he knows is dark magic. They’re wrong. 

He’s not magical. But he is probably sociopathic. And he’s definitely not on the ASPA’s top 10 list of great guys.

So if Halloween makes you think about goblins, vampires, demonic possession and soul-binding magic… Well, pick up a copy of my first book, A Study in Brimstone. It’s all in there.
But if you’ve got a little time to kill before All-Hallow’s Eve, and if you’ve got a mind for the classics, here’s what you do:

You pull your favorite chair up to next to a window on a rainy night. You get some fleece pants and a comfy blanket. You brew up a nice cup of tea. Light a couple candles. Then snuggle down and spend a little cozy murder time with the undisputed-number-one-original-king-of-creepy-daddy-detectives, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.



Warlock Holmes - A Study in Brimstone
Warlock Holmes
Book One
by G.S. Denning 

Publisher: Titan Books
Publication Date: May 17, 2016

ASIN: B014BQVKUC

Tagline: Sherlock Holmes is a genius … Warlock Holmes is something else …

Book Description:

Sherlock Holmes is an unparalleled genius. Warlock Holmes is an idiot. A font of arcane power, certainly. But he’s brilliantly dim.

Frankly, he couldn’t deduce his way out of a paper bag. The only thing he has really got going for him are the might of a thousand demons and his stalwart companion.

Thankfully, Dr. Watson is always there to aid him through the treacherous shoals of Victorian propriety… and save him from a gruesome death every now and again.



Warlock Holmes - The Hell-Hound of the Baskervilles
Warlock Holmes
Book Two
by G.S. Denning

Publisher: Titan Books

Publication Date: May 16, 2017

ASIN: B01KRUN0IQ

Tagline: Sherlock Holmes is a genius … Warlock Holmes is something else …

Book Description:

The game’s afoot once more as Holmes and Watson face off against Moriarty’s gang, the Pinkertons, flesh-eating horses, a parliament of imps, boredom, Surrey, a disappointing butler demon, a succubus, a wicked lord, an overly-Canadian lord, a tricycle-fight to the death and the dreaded Pumpcrow. Oh, and a hell hound, one assumes.


Warlock Holmes - My Grave Ritual
Warlock Holmes
Book Three
by G.S. Denning

Publisher: Titan Books

Publication Date: May 15, 2018

ASIN: B075WCS6WZ

Tagline: Sherlock Holmes is a genius … Warlock Holmes is something else …

Book Description:

As they blunder towards doom, Warlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson find themselves inconvenienced by a variety of eldritch beings. Christmas brings a goose that doesn't let being cooked slow it down; they meet an electricity demon, discover why being a redhead is even tricker than one might imagine, and Holmes attempts an Irish accent. And, naturally, Moriarty is hanging around... in some form or other.


  
About the Author:

G.S. Denning furiously studied reading and math until he could play Dungeons and Dragons. His love of DandD expanded to a passion for all things in the sci-fi and fantasy realm, particularly when spliced with comedy - Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett, Monty Python, Red Dwarf, Black Adder, Whose Line is it Anyway, Dr. Who, and the holiest of holies: The Princess Bride.

He learned his story-telling skills on the improv stage as a member of Orlando Theatersports, Seattle Theatersports, Jet City Improv, and as a Disney Performer at Epcot. G.S. also worked for Nintendo and Wizards of the Coast.

Finally, after realizing that humanity had not used the pun Warlock Holmes yet, he sat down to begin his first novel series: a dark-comic retelling of Arthur Conan Doyle's classic Sherlock Holmes stories. G.S. Lives in Las Vegas with The Best Wife and The Best Children.





a Rafflecopter giveaway