Crescendo of Darkness — Coming Soon!

Skewed Notions is pleased to host HorrorAddicts.net today and a new audio book for your horror enjoyment.

Music has the power to soothe the soul, drive people to obsession, and soundtrack evil plots. Is music the instigator of madness, or the key that unhinges the psychosis within? From guitar lessons in a graveyard and a baby allergic to music, to an infectious homicidal demo and melancholy tunes in a haunted lighthouse, Crescendo of Darkness will quench your thirst for horrifying audio fiction.

HorrorAddicts.net is proud to present fourteen tales of murderous music, demonic performers, and cursed audiophiles.

Please enjoy an excerpt below from Crescendo of Darkness.

“Six String Bullets” by Cara Fox

The pull of a busker’s song becomes too much for a young woman to resist.

Ashley Dunn had walked the same way to work for the last two years, but she never noticed the busker before. He was already as much a part of the bustling commuter street as the cars speeding past or the tattered street lamps shining brightly to pierce the early morning gloom, their beams throwing sharp relief on the rain. The busker blended in seamlessly, seated cross-legged, his back to the stone wall of the Victorian bank building, and his beaten-up guitar across his lap as he played. No one else spared him a glance, but she saw him.

Their eyes met through the crowd and Ashley’s heart missed a beat.

Something about him seemed familiar. She stepped out of the steady flow of people walking with their heads down and their minds lost to the working day ahead, breaking free of the crowd as the busker’s song grew louder and clearer with every step she took. It wasn’t his song that caught her attention, but the man himself. His crooked glasses and expensive looking suit weren’t a part of the usual busker uniform seen all over town.

The sounds of the crowd faded away as Ashley came to a hesitant halt in front of him, and the enigmatic busker’s song swelled in an instant to fill the void. It had no words, but he didn’t need words to express himself. The music alone was more than capable of that. She could swear she hadn’t heard the song before, but something about it was as familiar and natural as breathing. It spoke to her heart, stripping away everything until the busker and his song were all she knew. Her eyes closed as the music sped through her veins, dazing and rooting her in place. It was such a simple melody.

It shouldn’t be able to do that to me.

However many times she told herself, it made no difference. Her heart raced and her legs shook so wildly, she thought they might give way.

No.

Ashley drew a deep breath, but the moment her eyes opened, the busker’s own eyes locked onto hers and a fierce shudder rippled down her spine. Her breath caught in her throat. As she fought to steady herself against the unexpected burst of emotion, the music soared and intensified, each note a six string bullet cutting straight to her soul.

Tears filled her eyes. All she could see was the busker, and all she could hear was his song. She didn’t know how so many other people casually passed by without even glancing at him, but she found it impossible to look away.

The busker paid no heed to his captive audience. It was as if all he knew was the music, too. His guitar case was empty, but even when she impulsively emptied her pockets into it, he didn’t miss a beat.

The gentle clinking of the coins against each other jolted Ashley back to her senses, realising she was soaked to the bone. Strange. The rain wasn’t heavy. No one was even carrying an umbrella. It would’ve taken hours for her to be so drenched.

Hours… She glanced down at her wristwatch.

Shit.

The spell broken, she turned on her heel and sped down the street, flinging apologies in all directions as she pushed past the morning commuters and dashed toward her office.

*********************************

To read the rest of this story and thirteen

other horror music shorts, check out:

Crescendo of Darkness

Direct link: https://www.amazon.com/Crescendo-Darkness-Jeremiah-Donaldson/dp/1987708156

Edited by Jeremiah Donaldson

Cover by Carmen Masloski

HorrorAddicts.net Press

Let music unlock your fear within.

Dusk’s Warriors by Emerian Rich

We have a guest blogger today, Emerian Rich! She’s going to talk about her new book, Dusk’s Warriors. With no more delay, let me turn my blog over to Emerian.

In Dusk’s Warriors, the goddess of Dusk (Severina), is challenged with building a new heavenly world for her kind. She has inherited the destroyed world from a war that happened in the first book, and because all the old gods are dead, she has to learn to conjure on her own.

When I first imagined the world of Dusk, I saw in my mind’s eye the red rocks of Colorado, crimson and ginger jagged pieces of rock jutting out from the ground like nature’s skyscrapers. But when Severina conjured, she did so with her hands. I couldn’t imagine a being as fluid and sultry as Severina creating anything so harsh. So my mind went to clay and I imagined her carving out each room and balcony with her hands, the motion of it causing ripples or overhangs as she went.

The buildings of Barcelona reflect the look I imagined. Casa Mila (photo courtesy of Angela Estes) is a prime example of architecture that looks hand sculpted, as if god reached down and formed it with his bare hands. The world of Dusk is made of such buildings. Combining the look of Casa Mila and the color of Colorado, Dusk came into being.

Below, read an excerpt of the story where Severina first begins to build:

“And so, My Queen, have you thought about what it will look like?” Reidar asked.

She took a sip of her drink and then stood, looking into the vast void of nothingness before her.

“I thought I’d start with a gateway.” Pacing in front of her sector, a red sandstone archway formed as she spoke. “A ruby sunset for our sky.”

An instant flash of red went up and over them to form the sky. Streaks of orange and yellow ran through it.

“This is going to be fun.” She grinned, stepping onto the red sand road. Pedro and Reidar followed as she conjured rock formations into buildings like a master sculptor.

Severina stopped to stand before a castle of red sandstone and glass. Reidar marveled at its artistic form. The structure stood three stories tall and at first glance, it looked like the red rocks and caves of Colorado, until he noticed glass windows embedded deep in the cave entrances. Unlike some structures Reidar had seen carved into rock, the building surface was smooth and liquid as if Lady Dusk had reached her hands into a vat of modeling clay and pushed in holes for rooms. Reidar watched her conjure, which he’d seen many do during his time in The Garden, but she worked with such grace, like a dancer. She was beauty personified in her thin red dress. It blew back from the wind of creation and showed the perfect curve of her body.

Dusk’s Warriors by Emerian Rich

Heaven has opened up and welcomed the vampires of Night’s Knights into a new reality. As they struggle to find their place in their new world, trouble brews on Earth.

Demon servant, Ridge, is causing havoc by gathering up all the souls on Earth that have been touched by immortality. When he injures one of the Night’s Knights crew, he launches a war between the vampires of Heaven, the Big Bad in Hell, and a mortal street gang of vigilante misfits.

Will Julien, Markham, and Reidar be able to defeat the evil that’s returned, or will they once again need Jespa’s help?

Praise for Dusk’s Warriors:

“All hail, the queen of Night’s Knights has returned! Emerian Rich’s unique take on vampires delights my black little heart.” ~Dan Shaurette, Lilith’s Love

“A world of horror with realistic characters in a fast paced thriller you won’t be able to put down.”

~David Watson, The All Night Library

Praise for Night’s Knights:

“Fresh, original, and thoroughly entertaining.” ~Mark Eller, Traitor

“Emerian brought the Vampire Novel back from the dead.” ~C. E. Dorsett, Shine Like Thunder

Available now at Amazon.com in print and eBook

https://www.amazon.com/Dusks-Warriors-Nights-Knights-Vampire/dp/1544628803

Emerian Rich is an artist, horror host, and author of the vampire series, Night’s Knights. She is the hostess of the internationally acclaimed podcast, HorrorAddicts.net. Under the name Emmy Z. Madrigal, she writes the musical romance series, Sweet Dreams and she’s the Editorial Director for the Bay Area magazine, SEARCH. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and son.

HorrorAddicts.net launches new Horror Bites series!

HorrorAddicts.net launches our Horror Bites series with an
Alice-inspired story by Adam L. Bealby.

When he met Alice, he wasn’t prepared to go down the rabbit hole. His love for her pushes him into the uncomfortable realization she might be mad. He wants to keep her safe, but what if that’s not what Alice wants?

“Adam Bealby has written a mini masterpiece that explores mental illness, drug addiction, and real life horror.”

~David Watson, The All-Night Library

Horror Bites: Alice’s Scars

BY ADAM L. BEALBY

Just 99 cents at Amazon.com

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A look inside…

Alice’s Scars

BY ADAM L. BEALBY

When I first met her she was Katie, soon to be Alice. It was her first day at Uni, my second, and her scars intrigued me. They lined her cheeks like tribal markings and the way she caked her face in foundation, you could tell they were forever on her mind. It helped, of course, that she was a beautiful Goth girl. I wanted to save her, share her pain, kiss her, and fuck her, too. I asked her what she kept in the drawstring purse around her neck.

“Money,” she said dismissively, turning away to talk to someone else at the bar.

She disappeared soon after. I only found out later how drunk she got, how she spent the rest of the night over a toilet bowl with Jackie holding her hair clear of her mouth. Her first and last run-in with alcohol. Alice had too much else going on in her life to get any more screwed up.

I dogged her all through freshers’ week. Instead of dorms, she’d been accommodated in a little house just off campus. A new friend I met lived there too, so it was an easy thing to fall in with her motley crew, drawn together by circumstance as we were. I became a regular in their kitchen, smoking weed and trying too hard—as we all did—to be quirky and cool.

We struck up conversation over a jar of pesto. I didn’t know what it was and she couldn’t believe it. I strung it out, made it appear I was more ignorant than I actually was, and I got her laughing. When I said her pesto looked like rabbit food she blushed, right through all that paint and powder.

“You don’t know the first thing about rabbits,” she said, and she showed me what was in her drawstring purse. It was a tiny white rabbit’s foot. It freaked me out and yet I felt even more attracted to her. It was my in, a secret shared. Looking at the severed foot I felt myself getting hard and I had to sit down for fear she’d notice.

She ran away that evening. We were all stoned and a bit drunk, talking about our parents, being glib, critical, or overly generous. She burst into tears and ran out of the kitchen and into the night, not even bothering to put her shoes on. We made an extravagant show of hunting for her, shouting her name up and down the street. Pete the Poet, as we later christened him, came out to help from next door. The way John shouted Katie’s name in his Irish accent, Pete thought we’d lost a cat. We had a good laugh about that.

But it wasn’t funny when we found Katie. She was hunkered down by the bushes on a bit of common area at the end of the row.

“Katie? What are you looking for?” I asked as we gathered round in a concerned hub.

“He was here,” she muttered. She’d been pawing at the dirt. Her fingers were black. “I saw him, but he got away from me.”

“Who was here, Katie?”

She looked up. The glare from a passing car lent her eyes a lustrous sheen.

“Alice. Call me Alice from now on, okay? Do you know what time it is? The days all seem to blur into one.”

******************************************************

Adam L. Bealby writes fantasy, horror and weird fiction for both adults and children. His short stories and comic work have been published in numerous anthologies, including Spooked (Bridge House Publishing), Pagan (Zimbell House Publishing), Darkness Abound (Migla Press), Once Upon a Scream (HorrorAddicts.net), Sirens (World Weaver Press), World Unknown Review Vol. 2, rEvolution (MiFiWriters) and Murky Depths magazine. He lives in Worcestershire, UK with his wife and three children, and a harried imagination. Catch up with his latest ravings at @adamskilad.

Once Upon a Scream, featuring “The Other Daughter” by Adam L. Bealby

Once Upon a Scream…there was a tradition of telling tales with elements of the fantastic along with the frightful. Adults and children alike took heed not to go into the deep, dark woods, treat a stranger poorly, or make a deal with someone-or something-without regard for the consequences. Be careful of what you wish for, you just might get it. From wish-granting trolls, to plague curses, and evil enchantresses, these tales will have you hiding under the covers in hopes they don’t find you. So lock your doors, shutter your windows, and get ready to SCREAM.

HorrorAddicts.net

for Horror Addicts, by Horror Addicts

Listen to the HorrorAddicts.net podcast for the latest in horror news, reviews, music, and fiction.

HorrorAddicts.net Press

www.horroraddicts.net

Commas and FANBOYS

comma

Commas, commas everywhere! Yes, I’m talking about everyone’s least-favourite, most-misunderstood bit of punctuation, the lowly comma, yet again.

Here’s a sentence with two variations.

He stomped down the stairs and left the house in a rage.

He stomped down the stairs, and he left the house in a rage.

So what’s the difference? Why does the second have a comma but not the first?

In the first sentence, you do not have a complete phrase (with a subject and a verb) in the second half of the sentence. You have a verb (left) but no subject. In the second, you have both a subject (he) and a verb (left). That’s your first clue that you’ll need a comma.

The second clue is the presence of the conjunction “and,” which is one of the FANBOYS, the conjunctions which call for a comma IF the part of the sentence following said conjunction is complete with subject and verb.

So what are the FANBOYS?

For

And

Nor

But

Or

Yet

So

FANBOYS

I’ve been editing for clients quite a bit lately, and this is one of the most common mistakes I see: putting commas where there isn’t a FANBOYS or not putting one where there is.

It’s one of the easiest errors to correct in your writing, too. An easy mnemonic. An easy search for subjects and verbs.

The man entered his home, and he found his wife waiting for him in the living room.

The man entered his home and found his wife waiting for him in the living room.

She smiled at her husband and gave him the good news.

She smiled at her husband, and she gave him the good news.

Granted, these aren’t great sentences, but they show the FANBOYS in action.

Your Reputation Always Precedes You

Pen and Notepad

To be a professional writer, to gain and keep a good reputation, you need to act like a professional. You can’t blow off responsibility and decorum because you are “a genius.” You just can’t. Don’t tell me that such-and-such fantastic writer spends his days drunk in a hotel room and then churns out brilliant novels in a cocaine fueled haze, misses all his deadlines, spits at publishers, and is beloved by all. Chances are you aren’t a genius – they are not thick on the ground – and I’ll wager his publisher, agent, publicist, and third and soon-to-be-ex-wife are all eagerly awaiting his fatal coronary so they can be rid of him. And write the tell-all book which will expose his nastiness to the world after he’s safely out of it.

So, dear writer, and I need to keep this in mind myself, let’s say you see an open call with the following guidelines: We seek short stories, 2K words max, no zombies, no rape, pedophilia, bestiality. Please don’t send that publisher a 10K novelette about a zombie apocalypse where the villain rapes the 8-year-old girl next door by means of a bull mastiff. I mean, just don’t. And, furthermore, don’t think publishers haven’t seen that story as a result of that sort of open call. More likely, though, if the publisher says “No reprints,” don’t send a reprint. If the publisher wants the story single-spaced in 8 point font, don’t sent it double-spaced in 12 point font.

Say you’ve gotten a contract or are participating in a round robin or other group project. If you say you’ll have your story in by such-and-such a date, do your dead level best to fulfill that promise. As a person who suffers from more than one debilitating illness, I understand that sometimes your body will fail you. Sometimes other life circumstances will get in your way. That’s not what I’m talking about here. Truthfully, sometimes circumstances just stop even the strongest of us from making our goals. Mental, emotional, physical illnesses. Family turmoil. Loss of parents, partners, spouses, children, even jobs. I am not talking about those things. I’m talking about something a good deal more frivolous — and something I see happening with some writers. I am urging you, for the sake of your reputation, not to ditch your obligations because it’s summer and you’d rather be swimming. Do that too many times and you’re apt to find those opportunities drying up.

If you get a bad review, don’t blow up on social media. It’s an opinion. Not everyone will like your work. When you feel as if no one likes your stuff, go to Amazon or Kobo or Barnes & Noble, and look up your favourite book — one you truly love. I’ll bet there are some 1-star reviews on that book which will curl your toes. Opinions. Seriously, everyone’s got one. Thicken your skin.

When you hire an editor, listen to him or her. That doesn’t mean you have to take every suggestion you editor makes. But you need to pay attention. Know why you are rejecting this or that suggestion. Understand why the editor suggested the change.

I usually say, “Treat other people the way you’d like them to treat you.” A very wise Man said that many years ago. Others have said it, too. No one ever said it better.

Reputation matters in business – and in the publishing business it matters a lot.