Welcome my lovely Fiends! Yes, both of you LOL It seems I never have time to keep up with deadlines on different projects I’m involved in and then a book goes live and it takes me 4 days to even let you know it. So here I am and we’ve reached The Devil’s Hour!
Click Image to buy your copy!
Yes, Fiends I have yet another book out this year! It was the 12th book I was confirmed to have work in this year and it’s now the 6th book to be released! I have two more coming in a few days in case you’re bored with nothing to do for a couple days. I will say anthologies make perfect summer reading while lying by the pool, dipping your toes in the sand or, like I did when I was but a wee little demon, sitting under a tree trying to read though more often than not using the book to swat at annoying insects desperately attempting to disturb my tranquility. That is why I spent most of my summer vacations inside devouring books until I discovered girls but that’s way off topic (and none of your business!). So back to The Devil’s Hour…
I have worked with Hellbound Books several times now with my tales working their way into three anthologies (Demons, Devils & Denizens of Hell Volumes 1 & 2 and The Big Book of Bootleg Horror IV) so far and my novella, Essence Asunder, which is my only solo release to date. It’s always a pleasure and they seem to like my work as much as I like sending it to them. When I saw the open submission for The Devil’s Hour I jumped at it since I had (still have) several shorter stories in need of good homes and, unlike most open calls, this one allowed a broader focus. All HBB was looking for here was some scary stories to keep people up into The Devil’s Hour. Since my tale is close to the end you’ll have to do just that!
Visit my Amazon page to check out everything I have to offer. Thank you.
I’d like to pause a second here out of respect for those who work hard behind the scenes. I want to thank James Longmore for being an awesome writer, an equally excellent producer of quality horror fiction for you readers, a man dedicated to putting new horrific voices out into the aether giving little guys like me a chance and basically being an all-around cool dude. I also want to thank Xtina Marie for accepting my story into this book, being a fantastic editor (and poet – go check out her books!) and one kick-ass horror chick! Also thanks to the other 17 talented authors I have the honor of sharing these pages with: M.U. Nib, Nick Manzolillo, Richard Raven, Pamela Scott, Thomas S. Gunther, Tim V. Decker, Marc L. Rissmann, Ken McGrath, Brandon Cracraft, James R. Gardner, Lex H. Jones, Mawr Gorshin, Sergio ‘ente per ente’ Palumbo, Ernesto Canepa, Jim Towns, Sarah Cannavo, and J. N. Cameron. Some of these authors are, and have been, friends with me for some time now and some are new to me so I hope to get to know them better now. If you’re a reader and you enjoy one or all of these stories take a quick moment to reach out to the author. I promise none of us bite and you could make someone’s day for just a simple “Hey I liked your story” message. End of PSA.
Now, as for The Devil’s Hour I’ll be honest, I have not had time to read the other stories yet, my day job just doesn’t leave the time. So I honestly can only tell you about my own story which is called Everything Dies. Not sure the title really fits when I think about it now but, let’s be honest, it sounds cool as fuck! I’m not the world’s biggest or best prankster so my main character is not meant to be autobiographical despite the obvious similarity. Everything Dies is about a horror writer, Peter Steele, who decides to play a prank on his nosy, old lady neighbor, Ms Silver. He soon discovers his folly learning the hard way that witches don’t suffer fools.
*Side Note 1: The MC (main character) being a writer is an intentional homage to Stephen King since he has used a writer as his main character more times than I can count. Write what you know... or so I’ve heard.
*Side note 2: Everything Dies is a song by Type-O Negative off their excellent 1999 album, World Coming Down. Type-O Negative’s bassist/vocalist/primary songwriter, may he rest in peace, is Peter Steele who passed away suddenly from an aortic aneurysm (or massive heart attack) so my MC’s name is obviously an homage to him. My intention here was to write something I imagined Mr. Steele would enjoy reading, something that would’ve brought a smile to his face. If there is anything “after” my hope is that it did just that.
*Side note 2: Everything Dies is a song by Type-O Negative off their excellent 1999 album, World Coming Down. Type-O Negative’s bassist/vocalist/primary songwriter, may he rest in peace, is Peter Steele who passed away suddenly from an aortic aneurysm (or massive heart attack) so my MC’s name is obviously an homage to him. My intention here was to write something I imagined Mr. Steele would enjoy reading, something that would’ve brought a smile to his face. If there is anything “after” my hope is that it did just that.
Finally, the moment I've all been waiting for, it is only appropriate to give you a little taste of what I did in this tale!
So here is a very short excerpt from Everything Dies...
So here is a very short excerpt from Everything Dies...
Coffee brewing and his package sitting by his front door Peter took another deep breath to prevent an outburst of hysterical laughter. The setup was even better since the Perma-Blood paint was splattered all over him as though he had actually just committed some grisly murder. One last deep breath and he popped through the front door. He stepped out into the cool autumn evening air trying desperately not to crack a smile as his shenanigans began. He turned back to the open door bending over to grab his bundle of garbage by the “feet”. He really felt he deserved some kind of award for the acting job he was putting on. He dragged the plastic bundle out his front door as though it weighed well… the same as an actual body. His bundle of garbage looked perfect but there was no time to admire his handiwork, the game was afoot. He did his best to sell the scam by stopping every few feet to look around as though he didn’t want to be seen knowing the whole time that old widow Silver saw everything and had probably dialed 9-1-1 before he had gotten to the bottom of his front steps. He held back a belly laugh with great difficulty. He dragged his bundle of garbage agonizingly slow doing his best to sell the fact it was an actual body as he hefted it up and into his garbage bin. Peter made sure to look around constantly walking back into his new house looking as shifty as he possibly could. Once safely back inside his closed door he laughed so hard he nearly peed his pants. That had to be the best prank he had ever pulled in his life.
Peter’s gut ached from laughing at his own prank then the wait began. The coffee finished brewing and Peter was halfway through his own cup yet no knock came on his door. All he could think was that perhaps Old Ms Silver had called them so many times over nothing that the police treated her like the “boy who cried wolf” but, still, if she called 9-1-1, as he was sure she did mere seconds after opening his door, they should be on their way. Peter waited and waited finishing his cup of coffee, refilling it and still no knock came to his front door. His heart began to sink thinking perhaps his nosy neighbor had gone out for the night making his little prank a complete waste of time.
There was no real way for him to know though, now that he thought about it, he had never seen her go anywhere. After forty-five minutes he finally gave up assuming there no knock would be forthcoming from the boys in blue so he started up the stairs to get the carnage washed off himself. Oh well, he thought, it probably wasn’t worth all the trouble anyway. He could always write a better version later immortalizing his nosy neighbor in all of her ridiculous glory.
Peter was about halfway up the stairs when finally he heard a knock that froze him in his tracks with a giant grin. Old Ms Silver had come through after all! He practically raced to the front door whipping it open with a thousand watt smile to greet the police. There he stood in front of his wide open door smiling at nothing but the black night air outside. What the hell? He thought, Am I going nuts? Someone did knock, right? He stood in the doorway thoroughly confused when he heard the knock again. It hadn’t come from his front door but the back. This was just downright weird, he thought. Why would the cops come to the back door?
There was no real way for him to know though, now that he thought about it, he had never seen her go anywhere. After forty-five minutes he finally gave up assuming there no knock would be forthcoming from the boys in blue so he started up the stairs to get the carnage washed off himself. Oh well, he thought, it probably wasn’t worth all the trouble anyway. He could always write a better version later immortalizing his nosy neighbor in all of her ridiculous glory.
Peter was about halfway up the stairs when finally he heard a knock that froze him in his tracks with a giant grin. Old Ms Silver had come through after all! He practically raced to the front door whipping it open with a thousand watt smile to greet the police. There he stood in front of his wide open door smiling at nothing but the black night air outside. What the hell? He thought, Am I going nuts? Someone did knock, right? He stood in the doorway thoroughly confused when he heard the knock again. It hadn’t come from his front door but the back. This was just downright weird, he thought. Why would the cops come to the back door?
Peter walked slowly and cautiously toward the back door filled with confusion. He couldn’t imagine any scenario in which the police had reason to knock on his back door so he grabbed a butcher knife from the kitchen to be safe. His back door had no window so he paused with his hand on the knob waiting to see if there would be another knock. Nothing happened, so feeling rather stupid he turned the knob slowly opening it just far enough to peer out. He saw nothing so he opened the door further. There was nothing there either. He pulled the door all the way open staring into the dark as confusion turned to irritated anger.
“You kids stop fooling around and go home!” He yelled out hoping that would be enough to scare off whatever neighborhood kids were pulling a prank on the new guy on the block.
Peter cocked his head listening intently but heard no scampering of little feet nor any other noise. He shook his head closing the door then everything went black.
“You kids stop fooling around and go home!” He yelled out hoping that would be enough to scare off whatever neighborhood kids were pulling a prank on the new guy on the block.
Peter cocked his head listening intently but heard no scampering of little feet nor any other noise. He shook his head closing the door then everything went black.
Please pick up your copy of The Devil’s Hour, another excellent Hellbound Horror Publishing anthology for 17 breathes of fresh air into the horror genre. If you enjoy what you see pop a quick review on your blog or Goodreads or Amazon or anywhere else you can.
Thank you. #SupportIndependentArtists
Thank you. #SupportIndependentArtists
RSS Feed
