Crazy Weird Horror Collage, Horror movies/shows & Dumping X (Twitter)

Sharing a horror collage I created recently. I love the way this one turned out and could stare at it for hours. Despite my moving to Photoshop, I did this one quickly in Canva. Like I say, it’s funny how something you throw together can work so well.

Wanna quickly mention that I’ve quit using X (Twitter), and the link has been removed below. At the same time, I added my GoodReads profile page, so you can go there and follow me. I try really had to keep that page updated.

Now on to the movies and programs I watched this week. First there’s the shorts. The Infernal Cauldron is a 1903 colorized short set in a dungeon, and women were dumped in the scalding cauldron. It was funny more than anything, and the special effects for the time were impressive. The other was Culpa, about guilt, but I didn’t really see the theme playing out as I had expected. It’s not rated the greatest, so I’ll leave it up to you whether you watch it.

The Hole in the Ground was okay. Very dark as it should be. It was really slow, so I checked email while it was on. In case you don’t know me, I partially gauge my reviews of horror movies by the number of times I do work while watching. The Pyramid was bad, which is probably why it has a 4.6 on IMDB. I did appreciate that the story was about a found pyramid that delved into Egyptian myth. The last movie I watched was The Black Phone. It was release last year, and it was my favorite of all of them. I remember seeing a trailer for this movie in the theater and wanted to see it there. Loved the story line, with a kidnapped kid getting clues from the boys who had previously been kidnapped and killed. You should definitely see this one.

There were a few reality TV shows I watched. Devil’s Road: The True Story of Lorraine & Ed Warren is good if you love the paranormal and want to know about the leaders of ghost hunting. As a trained psychic, I never get enough of shows like Dead Files and Ghost Adventures. And I started watching The Ghost Town Terror, and it’s pretty cool so far.

Reminder that Fall for Freedom is free through Halloween. Below is the first section of the book to entice you to download it. Otherwise, have a great week and HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Fall for Freedom Free through Halloween

Greetings from the hellhound in Call for Obstruction. A character Barry encounters in the later half of the book.

I’m sharing this piece this week to let you know that Fall for Freedom is free from October 27th through Halloween. Below is the first section of the book to entice you to download it.

The Set Up

September 1995 – Walsenburg, Colorado

Driving a van four-hundred miles a day for Satan sucks bad enough. Add a tailgater in a black pickup for the last few miles, and I’m ready to exit the highway and head for the nearest bar.

Then the van lurches forward. Hit from behind. My dark, slick-back hair falls to my forehead, partially veiling my view of the pavement and sunflowers that dot the dry Colorado landscape. With a shaky grip on the steering wheel, I snap my bulging eyes to the passenger-side mirror. No surprise, the jerk to the rear is closer than he appears.

I floor the gas pedal and swerve into the right lane, jarring awake the demon possessing me. In his whiny voice, he says, I don’t bother you when you’re sleeping.

Of course he does, but most times I’d rather poke my eyes out than argue with him. “It wasn’t my fault,” I say. “We were rear-ended.”

White warriors? Boss says. Why would they bother us now? We’ve already unloaded the evil energy tanks in Trinidad.

Fall for Freedom

“It’s not God’s Army.”

Who then, Mister Smarty-pants?

Again, I glance at the side view mirror. “If you were awake a minute ago, Mister Pain in My Ass, you’d have seen our friend is driving a black vehicle, not the usual heavenly white.” A comment I instantly regret when his demon essence, merged in with my spine, sends a shot of hot, sharp discipline up my back. I groan. “I’m trying to drive here.”

Hee, hee, hee. Boss’ laugh sounds like a dog munching on a squeaky toy.

The pickup’s engine revs, and with the next hit the van swerves toward the ditch. “Boss, help me, please,” I say while fighting to stay on the road.

Chill out, he says. Probably some moron out for a joyride. Besides, he can’t hurt us unless you stop.

“Like if the van flips next hit?” I shake my head and call out for Hell’s useful level of support. “Margery, you there?”

As our dispatcher and the head demon who protects the evil cargo we haul, normally her voice would pipe in over the AM radio. She barks orders through it anytime, anywhere. So when she doesn’t answer, I squirm in my seat and stare skyward for a murder of crows. They’re one of Satan’s fiercest defenses against attacks. But there’s no reprieve in sight. “Where are the birds?”

Duh! Clear blue sky. Try Margery again.

I lean toward the radio and say louder, “Hey, I’m in trouble here. How about a little assistance?”

“After what you did,” Margery replies in her gruff New York accent, “you’ve got a lot of nerve, taking one of my vans.”

“What do you mean?” I stammer. “I’m driving back to Denver like I do every afternoon.”

“Don’t act stupid. I know you sabotaged the hellhole.”

“What?” I ask. “I haven’t been near the hellhole for years.”

“Tell it to the mercenary on your ass. I hired him to take off your head.” Her deep inhale and crackling cigarette resonate in the background while the shocking news sinks in. Heat rushes up my spine, telling me Boss is equally surprised.

Wow, that’s the thanks you get after fifty years of brown-nosing.

Boss, go back into your coma. Then I tell Margery, “I’m your most loyal driver. Why would I turn on you?”

“You tell me.” Phlegm gurgles in her throat as she adds, “We were so close to opening the Gates of Hell, and now we have to start over. You have any idea what will happen to me when Satan finds out what you did?”

“C’mon. Please. Call off the mercenary. Give me a chance to prove I didn’t do it.”

She blows out a long exhale, ending in a hacking cough.

“Margery, listen to me. I would never—”

“Too late. You’re on your own.” She cackles. “And good luck. There’s no protection hex on your van. I give that mercenary less than five minutes before he runs you off the road.”

This can’t be happening. My hand trembles as I smooth my hair back into place. All I can think is one of my shady co-workers must have set me up. “Margery! I’m innocent!”

No answer.

Dude, we are so fucked.

The van jolts and my gut smashes into the steering wheel. A twenty-ounce cola in the center console flies to the floorboard under my feet, spraying foamy liquid onto my cowboy boots and jeans. “Dammit!” I reach to pick up the bottle.

Leave it, Boss squeals. Give that mercenary half a second, he’ll lop off your head and use it as a bowling ball.

“No kidding.” I swallow hard around the knot in my throat.

Fifty years ago, Margery granted me immortal life in exchange for a few strokes of a pen on a satanic contract. There’s no chance a mercenary will take it away with a stroke of a sword across my neck.

I’m in no hurry to go back to the demon pool to wait for a new host, Boss says, even if you are short, gassy, and afraid of women.

“Cut the insults. We need sanctuary.” I push the accelerator to the floor. “Find us an escape route.”

Take the next exit, he says. There’s a Purgalator coffee shop connected to the Conoco station.

As a haven for otherworldlies, it’s our only hope for survival.

I swerve onto the Walsenburg off ramp and descend the hill. The pickup roars along behind me. At the red light, and halfway into a hard left, the van tilts and skids through the intersection, cutting in front of a semi-trailer. From behind, wheels screech and a deep horn blares.

You trying to decapitate yourself and save him the trouble?

“Hey, I bought us some time. Can’t believe I did it in an unprotected vehicle.”

And surprisingly without soiling yourself, he says.

I race into the gas station lot and park. The black truck’s engine amplifies as it closes in. I jump from the van, run past a dumpster, and blast through the Purgalator’s door.

You do realize, there’s nothing stopping the mercenary from following us inside.


If you enjoyed what you read, pop on over the Amazon and start the series for free. Fall for Freedom is free from October 27th through Halloween. ENJOY!

Angels Dark and Dumb Releasing on Kindle Vella

Sharing one of my favorite horror collages. These were originally done to identify where to read horror, but I’ve decided to remove the banners and just go with the collages going forward. I like how the orange lady bugs create contrast in this one. Lately, I’ve been thinking of pairing these with a horror poem. I may have mentioned this already in a post a couple weeks ago. Then I look at my task list and laugh. Yeah, fit in yet another project. What am I nuts.

Angels Dark and Dumb News: I started releasing the series on Kindle Vella. It starts with Fall for Freedom and goes through the series from there. Click here to go to the series page and read.

Short and sweet this week. Have a great day!

Angels Dark And Dumb Margery Reveal

It’s reveal time. Got lots to show, but today is devoted to Margery the Demon. She is awesome! Special thanks to Rebecca Treadway at Atrtink.

So, it’s only fitting to share Margery’s introduction to Barry in Call for Obstruction. This is chapter 2, which is basically Barry’s job interview.

BTW, Angel’s Dark and Dumb eBooks will be $1.99 for
Amazon Prime Day from July 11-12.

ENJOY!

The OTG parking lot’s blocked by a couple car carrier semi-trailers. Parked willy-nilly across the lot are a dozen or more new OTG vans. Hopefully a sign that the company’s doing well, and this job will last longer than a month. I park on a side street and jog through the mayhem of vehicles to the entryway.

My phone sounds off near the office door. I clench my teeth. This time it is my mother. It’s like she has a sixth sense about me wasting all the money she spent on my private college education. The fact that I acquired a Computer Science degree by nineteen burns a little more with each unskilled job I take, and lose. How can her smart boy be such a loser?

My finger swipes hard against the surface to ignore her call, but she always tries twice. After counting to ten in my head, the device announces another incoming call from Mom. Only this time the screen blacks out after the first ring. I press the power button. No response despite the half-charged battery. Why argue with good timing? I put the phone in my pocket and step inside the OTG lobby.

The place is deserted even though Margery said she’s always here. Her office is nothing like the typical delivery drop-off site. Reminds me a little of my grandmother’s basement, or a time warp into the nineteen-seventies. Wood paneling, windowless walls, and dark brown cabinets along one wall make the room eerie despite the florescent lighting.

The empty liquor bottles scattered across an olive green countertop and beside the color-coordinated refrigerator could explain her confusion about the accident. The smoke rising from an ashtray on a nearby table tells me she’s prone to bad habits. Who am I to complain? My other bosses this year run stiff competition for worst manager of all time.

“Barry, you made it,” says a now familiar voice that seems to come out of nowhere.

I jump, turn, and look downward. A hunchbacked crone with flaming red and orange streaked hair stands behind me. Either she’s light on her feet or a magician in her spare time. Her hairdo’s combed upwards, like a troll doll, lifting her height to nearly five feet. The woman sure likes orange. It’s also the color of the leggings below her blue oversized Broncos t-shirt.

She holds out her hand. “Margery.” We shake and electricity surges up my arm. When I stumble backward, she lets go. A crooked smile turns up one side of her puckered mouth and she winks. “You find the warehouse okay?” Her breath packs a punch that smells like raw hamburger rotting in an ashtray.

With eyes popped wide from the lingering electricity, I nod my head.

She points toward the table and leaves me standing in the middle of the lobby. I follow, stroking my vibrating knuckles.

At the table, a chair slides out and hits my leg.

I pause.

The last half hour replays in my head: a strange van, an unexplained phone call, and now the furniture moves on its own.

I should have followed my first instinct. I should have gone home.

I peer across the table to tell her I’m leaving.

Margery’s charcoal eyeliner spirals around a bloodshot gaze. She draws me in like a tractor beam. In a slow, hypnotic hum, she says, “Have a seat.”

I flop into the chair, but not of my own free will. Set in front of me is a foot-high stack of paper that wasn’t there a few seconds ago. I open my mouth to ask about it.

Margery shushes me and reaches for the remnant of the still smoldering cigarette in the ashtray. She holds it between her thumb and index finger, places it between pursed lips, and inhales deeply. The cigarette crackles and snaps until it fires against her skin. When there’s no more smoke to draw in, she drops the butt into the ashtray and tamps her thumb down on the red-hot tip. The aroma of tobacco mixed with burning flesh fills the air.

“Before you can work for us”—she pauses to lick ash off her blackened fingertips with a serpent-like tongue—“you must agree to a few employment terms and sign our standard contract. All our drivers sign one.”

Bile rises to the back of my throat. I swallow hard and point at the tall stack of paper. “The contract seems excessive. What’s in it?” Not that I’m going to sign it.

She falls back in her chair, lifts her arm, and a newly lit cigarette appears out of nowhere. “Top copy’s salary, fifty-five an hour plus time-and-a-half overtime. There’s other standard stuff for liability and such.” She flips her hand as if the latter part is unimportant.

My eyes open wide at the thought of making more an hour than any job I’ve ever landed. But I don’t like that this lady can make me sit like a trained dog. I slide my chair back, ready to get up and leave, and at the same time wonder what sort of liabilities require that much documentation.

“Driving for us or any courier service can be dangerous, among other things,” she says, as if she heard my thoughts.

“Are you talking about accidents? Are these like insurance forms?”

“Sure.” She picks up the pen and holds it out. “Like insurance forms.”

I rub the back of my neck and watch her wave the pen like a pendulum. “So if anything happens to me, I’ll be taken care of?”

“Yeah, Honey. We’ll take care of you.” That creepy grin curls up one side of her mouth again.

As much as I’d like to get the hell out of here, this job’s salary will keep me independent, not to mention buy me a new computer. Hell, I would sell my soul rather than move back in with my mother. My chair slides back up to the table with no effort from me.

“Right there at the bottom,” she says. “Sign your name and you’re employed.”

My eyes fix on the nib as it continues to sway left and right. In the background, Margery duplicates into two hovering heads, then three, then four. The more she multiplies, the blurrier my vision, until all the colors turn to blackness.

* * *

“All done,” Margery’s voice echoes in my head while the room comes back into focus.

“I signed?” Smoke belches out of my mouth. I jump to my feet and the chair screeches across the floor. “What did you do to me?”

She stands and pulls the tall stack of papers to her side of the table. “Be here tomorrow morning at six o’clock sharp.”

“I don’t think so.” More smoke escapes my mouth and clouds my vision. I turn around, full circle, and find I’m wasting my breath. There’s no one left in the room but me.

Go to the Angels Dark and Dumb Series Page from July 11-12 to get the eBooks for $1.99.

I Can’t Stop Thinking About Zombies

Yep, I got zombies on the brain. That’ll tell you how much I love them. Could also be because I started reading Do Zombies Dream of Undead Sheep?: A Neuroscientific View of the Zombie Brain by Timothy Verstynen and Bradley Voytek. So far it’s blowing my mind on how the brain works. I also did the collage to the right recently. Lots of fun and one of my favorites so far.

Very exciting news on my Amazon followers. I have 44. Okay, not so impressive, but if you had asked me before they added the number to Author Central, I’d have said I likely have only 3. I guess they added it a while back, but I just learned about it. Forced me to also spend some time there, updating my author profile. I’m not a huge fan of the new look and feel of the author pages though. Oh well.

And speaking of being an author, book covers are still in the works for the first 3 books. Everything else is ready to go. Trying to make sure I meet a May 15th release date. Still giving out Warrant for Damnation for free if you want it. Go to the Contact page to make a request.

Have a great week!