Short Story Saturday #17 The Haunted Halls

Posted by on Mar 29, 2013 in short story saturday | 0 comments

Short Story Saturday #17

short story saturday meme book review

Welcome to Short Story Saturday, where I find books 100 pages or less on Amazon that are both self-published/small press published and worth reading, which means you’ll only see mini-reviews of 3 stars and up on this feature! If you know of an awesome short story (can be your own), send me an email.  If I like it, then I’ll post it on Short Story Saturday.

thehauntedhalls

The Haunted Halls: Volume 1 by Glenn Rolfe

Genre:  Horror

Publisher:  Allen Agenda Publishing

Links:  Amazon  |  Goodreads  |  Jukepop Serials

Released January 27, 2013

Description:

What lies in wait at the Bruton Inn? Where did it come from? What does it want? People are checking in, but the little voices, the nightmares,the deep cold sinking into their marrow is changing them. What haunts these halls will alter those within its confines. Something big is unfolding, something dark- something evil. The haunted halls of the Bruton Inn welcome you. Checking in?

My thoughts:  I am completely shocked by this first installment by Glenn Rolfe.  This story captivated and chilled me from the first page.  I’m shocked as to how well the author drew me into each character’s story, made me care about each character, set up a pretty creepy scene, and then forced me to the next character.  There were so many characters and yet each one had an individual personality and story.  To successfully develop that many characters in such a limited word-space and still not ever info dump is an incredible display of writing talent.

I did think that the flashbacks were weaker than the present day story.  Considering how brief these flashbacks, I don’t think their faults can merit a deduction in the rating.  The horror did waver slightly by the end.  Horror is a hard sell, but I think that Glenn Rolfe has created the beginning of a fantastic serial series with this first short story.  At only 43 pages, it accomplishes more than I thought a short story could.  The ending isn’t exactly a cliffhanger, but it does make you want to start the next segment. (A)
excerpt

The hand caressed his chin; fear commandeered his thoughts.  He began whimpering a preemptive cry, as he felt the hand begin pulling away from his face, the flesh of his stubble covered jawline ripping up and away with its cold dead touch.

 

The Haunted Halls: Volume I is currently only 99 cents on Amazon, but you can read the FULL story for free on Jukepop Serials.

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Leaping Leprechauns – Giveaway and the House of Cards

Posted by on Mar 13, 2013 in giveaway, hop | 36 comments

lucky 2013

Leaping Leprechauns!

We have a bookmark and a giftcard for you to win!

 

free-amazon-gift-card

 

It’s your lucky, lucky day.  For the Lucky Leprechaun Giveaway Hop, we have two prizes.  First, you can win a bookmark featuring the epic short story, House of Cards by Juli D. Revezzo.  Secondly, you can win a $10 giftcard to Amazon.com.  This contest is opened to US residents only due to shipping costs.  SORRY!  Winner has 48 hours to respond by email or another one will be chosen.

Since, Juli D. Revezzo is awesome enough to supply a bookmark for this giveaway and wrote one of the best story stories I’ve read in quite a few months, I want to spotlight her book, House of Cards.  I received a copy of the book from the author in exchange for my honest review.  Giveaway is on bottom!

 

houseofcardsHouse of Cards by Juli D. Revezzo

Genre:  Dark Fantasy

Publisher:  Raven Queen Publications

Released October 3rd, 2012

Links:  Amazon  |   Barnes and Noble  |   Smashwords  |

 Good Reads

You can’t escape Fate….

A young nobleman escapes the Reign of Terror in 18th century France to find himself dragged into an even worse fate–a hellish underworld wherein he is cajoled and put on trial by a demon tribunal for crimes he never committed. Can he answer thwart his fate, one worse than the guillotine?

My Thoughts – It’s amazing how rare it is to find a short story with a rich atmosphere, three dimensional characters, and  a proper ending.  House of Cards exceeded my expectations for what a short story should offer.  Sinjor is fleeing Paris in a stagecoach (I think that’s the right name for the vehicle) but not fast enough.  He is caught in route by something and he must tread carefully to figure out how to survive this encounter.  Sinjon’s indecision and often inaptitude in figuring out the quests is a refreshing take on the typical fantasy hero, who always figures out the task.  It’s good to see the hero fail, although Sinjon might not have liked the consequences.  House of Cards is borderline horror.  It’s dark fantasy that never quite crosses into scary, although there are several gruesome descriptions and a steady, suspenseful pace.

As far as short stories goes, this one has it all. (A)

rating A

 

Enter the giveaway (opened to US only!)  In the comments, let me know your favorite all time short story/anthology/or picture book!

 

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Short Story Saturday #16 The Yellow Wall-Paper

Posted by on Mar 9, 2013 in short story saturday | 2 comments

Short Story Saturday #16

The Yellow Wall-Paper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

I decided to resurrect this meme, since I got a shiny new graphic for it.

short story saturday meme book review Welcome to Short Story Saturday, where I find books 100 pages or less on Amazon that are both self-published/small press published and worth reading, which means you’ll only see mini-reviews of 3 stars and up on this feature! If you know of an awesome short story (can be your own), send me an email.  If I like it, then I’ll post it on Short Story Saturday.

theyellowwallpaper

The Yellow Wall-Paper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman Genre:  Horror Publisher:  It was originally published in 1892, so it is now public domain, I believe. Links:  Goodreads |  Amazon Description:

The Yellow Wall-Paper is written as the secret journal of a woman who, failing to relish the joys of marriage and motherhood, is sentenced to a country rest cure. Though she longs to write, her husband and doctor forbid it, prescribing instead complete passivity. In the involuntary confinement of her bedroom, the hero creates a reality of her own beyond the hypnotic pattern of the faded yellow wallpaper – a pattern that has come to symbolize her own imprisonment. Narrated with superb psychological and dramatic precision, The Yellow Wall-Paper stands out not only for the imaginative authenticity with which it depicts one woman’s descent into insanity, but also for the power of its testimony to the importance of freedom and self-empowerment for women.

My thoughts:  I came across this book in a discussion about female horror writers.  Since it was a free from Amazon (and still is!), I downloaded it, read it, and it managed to creep me out more in 40 pages than most books do in 300.  The Yellow Wallpaper is a psychological horror and it’s a little confusing at first, since it is written in first person.  As the narrator becomes more and more detached from normalcy, the book’s path becomes more clear, and the horror builds. excerpt

At night in any kind of light, in twilight, candle light, lamplight, and worst of all by moonlight, [the wallpaper] becomes bars!  The outside pattern I mean, and the woman behind it is as plain as can be.

Download a free copy on your kindle today!

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AW February Blog Chain, Short Story: Road Trip

Posted by on Feb 27, 2013 in writing | 14 comments

I skipped the last couple of months of the AW Blog Chain, and my creative juices were starving as a result.  So, on the last day of February, I bring you a quick story inspired by this month’s prompt.  Thank you dclary, who chose “Road Trip” for me.  Please check out the other members participating in this month’s prompt at the bottom of this post.

*Disclaimer:  This prompt has not been edited.

This month’s prompt: 

Suggest-A-Prompt

We have so many good prompt ideas that don’t get used, so it’s now time to mix it up. Posters get to suggest a prompt for the next blogger in line! I’ll step in and sort things out if the prompts are too arcane or obscure. Be sure to list the prompt and credit the suggester in your post.

Road Trip by Lizzy Lessard

Slipping my hand from hers, I hook my hand around the gear shift.  The road beneath the tires is stone and sand.   The jeep crawls like a spider between boulders and around crevices large enough to pinch a tire.  These sections drive the sweat from my pores, however it is the upcoming cliffs that cause her to grip me as tight as the jeans around her waist.  Her right arm hangs from the bar above her window; her knuckles two shades lighter than normal.  It’s a wide-eyed adventure that I know we’ll laugh about when it’s over, but now all I hear from her are curses.

The jeep teeters between the next obstacle.  Metal screams as an outstretched piece of granite grinds off paint on a fender.  The left tire drops off a boulder; the jeep dips dangerously low on its left side and I know before I see that the rubber side wall of the tire is punctured.With barely a gallon of water and freeze dried snacks, we weren’t prepared to spend more than a few hours in the Sonora Desert.  I have promised her lunch at the top of the hills in a small town that saw more ATVs than cars.  It’s unlikely that we’d be able to handle another tricky spot on a flat.  I remember the spare hugging my back door, but I’m not convinced I can stomach changing it.  Not on the uneven ground with inches of leeway on either side of the path.  It’s her eyes, wide and childish, that force my hand to open the door and snake around to the back.  I can’t be craven with my woman present.

My body slithers next to the heat of the jeep.  The vehicle groans as it sways with impatience on a jack designed for tar and gravel.  The looming pressure of metal against my body with the wind tickling my back like the feet of insects, reminding me with an insistent itch and chill that there’s nothing but my own balance protecting me from a body dive over the edge.

saguaro cactus

© Kateleigh | Stock Free Images & Dreamstime Stock Photos

One look over the edge and I know I’d rather body dive then strap myself into the seat of a car.  A hundred feet decline at a slope fit for skis.   I’d have a fighting chance of surviving if one of my limbs struck a thick bush or Saguaro cactus.  Either one could slow my fall or cut it off completely.  The jeep would slash through shrubbery like fingers through the wings of a butterfly.

With the rubber off the ground, I lock the lug wrench around a nut.  It takes a swift stomp of the foot to relax its death-grip on the rim; the others are more willing to part after the first.  Like sheep, I corral them in a small rocky dip next to my ankle.  The tire breaks away from the car and I sense a yearning to take its last roll down the cliff.  If not for the pricey rim in its midsection, I’d give in to that last request.  I’m almost apologetic as I dump it into my trunk.  I know its destined for a lifetime in the dump when we return to civilization.

The spare is less cooperative.  It’s will to fly nearly sends me tumbling.  It bounces once, twice.   My boots dig into sand and my fingers tear into the grooves of the tire.   It has spines like a cactus, but harmless and it’s only my grip that pains me.  I hear my woman calling my name.  A shot of fear travels through my spine like an epidural, paralyzing all but my mouth.

“Stay in the car, Shay.  I’m almost done.”  My voice is deceptively calm.  A river of fear and worry churning travels within the crevices of the words I utter.  My hazel eyes lock on her door.  It remains closed, but her brown curls dip out from the open window.  She’s watching me.

I tap into the stupid side of bravery.  With my heart tucked into her hands, my focus shifts from balance and safety into fooling her.   My shirt has wide damp circles beneath each pit.  The sweat pumps from me even as I force myself to feign control.  I wrap my arms around the birth of the spare tire while I balance on my knees and thrust it into its temporary home.  My right boot drags from sand into stone.  I reach for a nut to find them moved.  I lean my head back and the words slip out loud and uncensored.

“What’s wrong, baby?”  She asks.

I shoot my gaze back to her door.  It’s still even with the rest of the frame.  “Nothing.  It’s nothing.  Stay in the car.”

“Heard you the first time,” she mutters.

I know she did, yet I’m still not convinced she’ll listen.  It takes all my willpower to break my eyes from that vertical crack in the jeep where her door would first open.  I shift my weight from limb to limb, searching for those metal nuts.  When I lift my right boot, I find two beneath the toe.  I grab both and fixture them on opposite spots of the wheel.  They’re tight enough to grip the wheel and let me crawl around for the missing three.  One more has snuck into the sand.  I inch closer to the hill’s edge and find the fourth.  The fifth remains elusive.

I screw on the fourth and lock them with the wrench.  The void on the fifth’s spot gnarls at me.  Common sense tells me that I can continue with only four.  But there’s nothing common about that black spot.  I can’t afford to have the tire pop off on this trail.

“Stay in the car, Shay,” I hear myself say again.  I should have said nothing at all.

 

Participants and posts:

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Giveaway: Pharaoh, Mine by Kerry Adrienne

Posted by on Jan 7, 2013 in giveaway, reviews, tour | 4 comments

The excerpt for this book was what first attracted me to it.  I’m addicted to documentaries on ancient Egypt, so combining ancient Egypt with a little bit of time traveling, and I’m all on board with checking out this book.  You can win a copy of this short story by entering into the giveaway below.  Giveaway ends January 15th.  This tour was organized by FMB Promotions.

Title: Pharaoh, Mine

Series: All Mine #3 | 1Night Stand

Author: Kerry Adrienne

Genre: Time travel, Erotic Romance,

Publisher: Decadent Publishing

Purchase (Ebook only, 47 pages):  Decadent Publishing | ARe | Amazon | B&N |

Kathryn is a veterinarian with a cause—she risks her financial security to help local cat rescue groups. When a stray cat, black with one green eye and one blue, meows at her door one night, Kathryn’s view of rescues changes quickly.

In Ancient Egypt, the throne is passed to the firstborn son, and when the sun rises over his father’s fresh tomb, Seti will claim his crown. Seti doesn’t want to rule, but the only other option is death, and his half-brother is happy to oblige.

Though Seti and Kathryn each need fulfillment in their lives, for one night they find peace in each other’s arms. At dawn, Bast will return to ferry them back to their responsibilities.

The king’s sarcophagus lay on a large carved stone in the center of the torch lit chamber. Seti paced across the compacted dirt, the oily smoke from the flames trailing behind him in a whirlwind of memory. Musky incense swirled over mounds of beaded offerings to the gods. He fell onto his knees, trembling. The lone melody of a cane ney snaked down into the tomb, the musician somewhere outside, with most of the mourners.

“Father,” he whispered. No tears came. He fingered the painted hieroglyphs lining the edges of the wooden likeness of his father. The markings told stories of the king’s honored past. The wars. The blood. The lives cut short and the many children. Many brothers.

“And I am firstborn. Why?” He pressed his sandal toe against the earthen floor and balled his hands into fists. Shaking, he stormed over to the servants who knelt by the vizier at the tomb’s entrance. “Leave!”

The servants, half-bowing, scampered through the shortened doorway. Seti shook his head. They scurried like startled rats who had been lurking in shadows, waiting for the humans to leave the kitchen so they could rush out and steal crumbs.

“My king, you must calm down,” the vizier said. The old man moved his staff side to side, in deference.

“I am not yet king, Pensekhmet. Not until morning.” Seti rested his head on his father’s image, freshly kohled on the surface of the wooden coffin. The paint smelled of sharp pine and heavy clay, alive and fresh—but his bitter old father lay inside—wrapped in linen and empty of his soul. The tyrant had finally had passed into the afterworld. Even now, he walked with the gods.

“When the sun rises, you will be king. It is time to put away your childish notions and accept your destiny.”

Seti beat his fists against the wood in a slow rhythm. “I do not want to ruleEgypt.”

giveaway image lizzy dark fiction

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Kerry holds a BA in English with a minor in Classical Studies from NC State University. She has extensive freelance editing experience, and teaches various fiction writing classes at a local college. She’s an Associate Editor with Entangled Publishing, and is Managing Editor of the Covet line, Entangled’s paranormal contemporary line. In addition to editing, Kerry writes science fiction, romantic fantasy, and paranormal romance. In her free time, she is a costumer, artist, cat collector, and guitarist.

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