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October 2016

Ghost Garbage fire go!

Ok so I actually got off my ass and pirated me a copy of this trash and watched it with my mum. Tbf she actually liked it but there’s no accounting for taste and she has none haha.
To be honest I didn’t think it was that bad at the start, it seemed fairly entertaining, it looks good, the effects are ok, it’s not shot badly. I actually liked some of the ghosts which I found surprising, some of them looked pretty good.

The problems start early though, all the jokes are fart or poop or ass or front ass related, it’s so cringey it’s almost unbearable and it’s not funny beyond like a single pity guffaw.

I heard people talking about this pringle ad during the first ghost encounter scene and I was like ‘so she’s eating pringles, who cares?’. But whatever you heard it’s much worse, I mean it’s not like a one second shot, those pringles are in shot almost through that scene and she draws attention to them a few times and I was like ‘Seriously?’ it was shameless and it completely took me out of what should have been the first pivotal moment of the film which just turned into a silly gross out gag.

Seriously this movie is not funny, the funniest jokes in this movie were made by the editor when he was putting this together, every joke in this movie does not land, period. I saw a lot of reviews where people were saying Kevin, Chris Hemsworth’s character, the dopey secretary, was the saving grace in the movie. And I think they’re dead. His jokes were just as terrible if not more terrible, some of the jokes I was told were funny had no context, he just said them randomly with no setup. He was just saying dumb things, if any movie needed a laugh track it was. What’s so funny about his character exactly? He’s dumb, like monumentally ‘how has he stayed alive this long, seriously how does he feed himself dumb’ that’s it, that’s not a joke. What’s more its ‘offensive’ Janean (no fucking idea how to spell her name) wasn’t dumb, she wasn’t a scientist but she wasn’t a mouth breathing idiot, so why they thought about including a dopey male secretary as a gag I have no idea because there is no romantic sub-plot at all. They don’t even attempt one.
I think the worst part of this movie is that none of the characters seem like real people, they all seem like cartoon characters, every character apart from Charles Danse is just a walking talking silly gag. It’s just tiring and it makes you very aware you’re not watching a movie that has any intention of taking itself seriously so can have no drama or tension or engaging plot at all.

Ok on to the controversy bullshit, I honestly think having women ghostbusters made no difference, there isn’t a cast on earth that could have made this movie work, you could have re-united the old cast bring Harold Ramis back from the dead and they couldn’t have made this movie watchable. So really it has nothing to do with them being women and everything to do with the writing and direction being lacklustre.

On the whole the cast was probably the only thing about it that was any good, I’m not a big McCarthy fan but her character was probably the most interesting I guess. Kristin Wiig is great but she was pretty much the boring straight man. The other girl who was supposed to be Egon was terrible, beyond ridiculous. Lesly Jones was probably the most real character in the movie despite the stupid forced loud black woman jokes that made the world cringe. She was probably the most consistent character throughout.

But the problem really was that there was no chemistry, it was just a bunch of zany characters shoved together whereas the original film felt like a group of friends doing a dirty job for not much pay. It worked, they meshed, these new ghostbusters did not. They didn’t feel like real characters so I couldn’t care about their relationship.

The story didn’t make a whole lot of sense and it didn’t have a pleasing flow, it felt empty. It wasn’t a very satisfying film to watch because there wasn’t really a big arc or any characters you thought were central. It didn’t feel like a cohesive movie, it felt like an overly long and unfunny SNL skit, I know everyone is saying that, but they’re goddamn right.

Overall it wasn’t so bad it was good, but it wasn’t horrible, it was lame, a wet fart of a movie and a pitiful start to a franchise that seems like it’s already dead.

I mean we knew it would suck, it was marketed by idiots who remade a classic movie and intentionally alienated the original fans of the franchise failing completely to secure a new audience, so of course it flopped. This is what you get when you push ideology over actually creating things people will like, which is your job as a content creator. That being said there wasn’t any really overt political or feminist messages in the movie, so I can’t fault it for that.

But still I give it two raspberries out of five.

 

0

Blood Ties By Katie Matthias – A review

Bloody good.

Hands down this is probably the most professional story I’ve read on inkitt. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was an actual novel someone had copy pasted here haha.
It’s very professionally written, the prologue is nice, but after reading the first chapter it seems a little bit surperfluous to have her locked up. I think the first chapter has enough of a hook the prologue draws it out a little too much and considering the first chapter is already very long, it seems a little excessive and overindulgent.
The style is perfect, first person narratives are hard to get right, but you nailed it. It’s just right, not too cocky or self-depricating, it hits a sweet spot right in the middle and I like the character of Ana. Female characters are tough, if you make them too nice they come off as Bella Swan wilting violets, too tough and they just sound bitchy. Ana is not too hot and not too cold, she’s just right. Not too nice as to be boring and not too mean to call a bitch.
The first chapter is everything I’d want from a first chapter, it sets up the story, the characters, and leaves a nice thread for the overarching plot, culminating in a very nice hook. It’s a little long but it really makes use of all that length, there’s never a point that seems unnecessarily drawn out or boring, it’s all vital and interesting and gripping.
Now to set this aside, the level of research is great, the medical knowledge on display, is very believable, and it really helps pull me into the story. This to me and any else reading it says, this took time and effort, somebody loved this book and put their time into.
The only real criticism I have are few and far between and almost too middling to mention. Ok well the paragraphs are really much too long, you just have these big long walls of text that need mountaneering equipment to scale.
That’s gripe one, gripe two, the title, it’s incredibly generic. Just type ‘blood ties’ into google and you get a laundry list of book and shows and movies and what have you. It’s much too mundane a title for such a skillful book.
My third and final gripe; Vampires? Really? haha.

All in all I think this is probably the most accomplished thing I’ve read on inkitt, I could easily see this in print, easily. Even a film adaptation. Bravo.

If you want to read the story in full and reserve a free copy, it would really help out a fantastic fledgling writer.

Blood Ties

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LCYE Chapter 9 ‘White Noiz’

It’s sort of finished now I guess, I stopped tapping the keyboard at least ha-ha. I like it, I think it’s the start of something new and good. I’m reading more of those Richard Stark Parker novels, they’re fucking infectious. Effortlessly cool, I just love them and the more I read them the more inspired I get to write like that. His style is bleeding into mine and I can’t get enough of it. It’s the perfect filler to stuff in that Dexter shaped hole in my life. I really want to read all the Dexter books again. Not just because I loved them and they spoke to me but also because when I read them I was deeply in love with someone and some music and I need to feel that again.
When I was reading those books it was the happiest and brightest my life had ever been and to see them end it brought in the end of that relationship too. And it’s fitting since those books are about someone trying to be human and failing at every turn. Trying to have love but lacking the vital component to make it work and keep it alive. Some people just aren’t meant to love, if not then what are they meant to do? Who knows.
Enough of that feeling sorry for myself bullshit onto the chapter and updates. I’m still in talks for the cover and the editing is coming along for Green Sunday. I think it’s going on amazon soonish. Still bricking it over nano, I just feel so fucking competitive, I want to win but I don’t think I can and give the story the attention and time it needs, I need to slow down, this is serious business. Oh, I also watched the new ghostbusters movie and yeah it was trash ha-ha, so I might do a review of that.

Ok this chapter is a bit of a departure, slipped in a little more action, bit of breaking bad crept in somehow, but I hope you like it. And yeah I spelled noise wrong on purpose haha. Its the title of a silent hill song.

As usual you can check it out for free on inkitt.

White Noiz

~

Con reached the bathroom down the narrow hall. The house was like a maze, it felt like there were too many rooms, too many doors squeezed into such a tight building. He passed two bedrooms on his way into what looked like a parlour with a set of carpeted stairs leading to an upstairs bedroom in the attic space. One of the bedrooms was completely empty, carpeted and painted in the same way as the rest of the house, the other was locked.

The parlour had a few black couch chairs and a pool table with what looked like a minibar in the corner. It had another set of glass doors which lead out into the yard and overlooked the pool. A big black ceiling fan span above his head as he stood, hands in pockets looking out at the pool.

He crossed the room past the pool table almost tripping over a black leather foot stool. He leant on the railing of the stairs looking up at the attic door. It looked locked too but it was worth a shot.

Just as he mounted the first step his ears pricked up to a muted cracking sound and brief fumbling from where he’d come.

He pulled his Glock 19 with a nervous jerk from the moulded holster on his hip and soft stepped around the pool table with the gun at his side. He shouldered up to the corner and took the safety off, he held his breath and rounded the corner with his gun high. The tight corridor was empty the door to one bed room still closed the door to the empty bedroom was open still. The closed door was closer on his left so he tersely slid along the wall keeping his eye on the edge of the hall where the sitting room was located. He got to the locked door and tried it again, it was still locked.

He popped out around the door of the empty bedroom and it was still empty. He continued at a quickening pace down the hall. He kept his breathing steady but his heart beat was fast and light.

He swung around the corner of the sitting room, it was empty. He did a further sweep to make sure there was no one in the kitchen or entryway. All the doors were closed and he opened them quietly one by one, revealing storage closets full of cleaning products and chemicals. The other was a study full of unopened boxes, a desk with a monitor on it, behind the last door was a tiny bathroom with just a sink and a toilet.

Making his way back into the sitting room he loosened his chest a little. The TV on the wall was cracked and there was a half-heeled shoe on the carpet without a foot. A couch cushion lay on the floor open.

He stalked into the kitchen and saw her lying on the floor, one shoe off. He swept to her side on one knee, his gun still in his hand as he felt for her pulse. It was weak but it was there. Her knight in shining armour breathing heavy over her, feeling nothing but burning in his chest.

His head got a little numb and he started to feel dizzy as he stood up. His tongue clacked dry, He pounded the side of his head with his balled palm around the butt of his gun. He opened and closed his eyes deliberately, as if his lids were glued together and he had to pull them apart.

He took a sharp snort of air and was straight again. His shoulders knotted up tight lifting the gun like his arms were on marionette strings. Wobbling slightly but long and straight and rigid. He took up his firing stance and paced through the kitchen trying to make as little noise as possible on the tiled floor.

There was a small alcove behind the breakfast bar adjacent to a set of two white wooden slated doors that probably lead into a small pantry. Con rounded the breakfast bar tightly, using his hand to toss himself around the sharp corner. He passed through alcove into a small carpeted anti-room. This room didn’t seem to have a purpose since it was too open and close to the kitchen to be a bedroom and too small to be another living room or sitting area. Despite that it had the same carpeting and the same type of ceiling fan with the daffodil shaped light fixtures. There was another alcove on his far left that fed back into the entry hallway, a door on the wall on his right which lead outside into the pool area. Another door in front adjacent to the pool was open at an angle.

He braced the ajar door and pushed it open with his empty hand, probing the stale air with the Glock. As the door opened he was in a small strangely angled smoking room with a large sixties style red stone fireplace. Against the back wall there was a beat up leather couch and a wood end table in front of the fireplace facing out. It looked out of place with the new coat of paint and the modern light fixtures running along the ceiling. There was a closed door on the right adjacent wall to the fireplace that probably lead out of the house functioning as a side entrance. The main focus was a strange door that jutted out into the centre of the room. The walls seemed to angle to meet it forming a trapezoidal shape taking up almost a quarter of the floor space. The door was so imposing it took all the focus off the bespoke fireplace and the entire room seemed to centre around it like it was a big flat screen TV.

Con glided over to the door, he gripped the knob and began to turn it, it was unlocked. He flung the door open and pressed against the doorjamb angling his gun through the opening.

It was black as pitch, a set of stairs faintly lit by the sunlight coming in from the window on the other side of the room. The stairs went down into a basement of some kind. Con craned his free hand around fumbling for a light switch. He got a nasty shock on an exposed wire and yanked his hand away like it was a rattlesnake bite. He fumbled around in his pocket for a moment before pulling out his cell phone. There was no signal, they must have been too close to the mountains, he didn’t remember seeing a single landline throughout the whole house. With the gun lodged tight to his chest he held the cell phone out in front of him as his only source of light and started down the stairs.

~

 

 

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Don’t Look Close by LoweFantasy or T.S. Lowe – A review

I didn’t look too close.

Hard to follow some of those really in depth reviews. I like to give my first impressions, I come from a comic background so the first ‘issue’ the first chapter is god, there’s nothing beyond the first chapter. It’s like an essay where you try and sum up everything you want to do with the rest of the work in the introduction.
In the first issue of a comic you have to deal with a serious attention deficit crowd, so the first part really needs to hook some noses in your direction, it needs to say everything you want to say right then and there but still leave people wanting more.
You don’t dump it all in their lap, you just give them enough to grab their interest then reel it back so they chase it throughout the story.
I think the first chapter is well written, it’s very easy to read but I don’t feel invested enough really in the characters to want to read more. That’s not an indictment on you as a writer as much as it is on me as an incredibly fickle reader who isn’t into romance unless there’s zombies somewhere hinted in it haha.
I just think it feels a little bit like you’re thrown into this person’s life and instantly expected to give a shit and I just don’t, obviously it’s probably a slow burner and I’m one of those people with the attention span of a nat. I’m fully aware I’m not the intended audience and the other people that reviewed this are.
It’s interesting but it’s not a story that hasn’t been done before, it’s probably all character based but if this were I comic it would have a very niche following and it would get snowed in under an avalanche of shehulk’s haha.
I think it’s because our styles of writing differ so much, I like to think I’m really ostentatious and what you’ve done here is very subtle and heartfelt and genuine and I’m just butthurt haha.
Overall I think it was well presented well, there were a few mistakes but I wont labour the point because without spellcheck I’m legally retarded and when you come to look at some of my work you’ll shred me asunder deservedly so haha.
In summary I’m not the intended audience by a long stretch but it’s competently executed and I could someone really enjoying the characters interplay alone.

If you want to read for yourself, check it out on inkitt for free.

Don’t Look Close

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GS Chapter 12 edited ‘Live through Death’

Hola people of ‘teh’ world, me again here to spout a mini blog type thing that I do over the chapters of my insane meandering in the world of fiction.

Gonna keep it mercifully short today because reasons, just usual shit. I’m gearing up for nano, wrapping up Ladies Close Your Eyes, I’m pretty happy with it, and the reception on that nepotisitic fart box known as ‘inkitt’ is fairly good. But who gives a shit? I’m enjoying writing it, it was a nice change to do focus on something smaller and different. I’ll try and find a place for it some magazine or contest when it’s done, maybe I’ll get it edited, but judging by the amount of time it’s taking for GS to come back I’d be lucky to get it out before the next ice age. Oh also currently in talks with an artist acquantance of mine for the cover, which should be fun, his art is really… arty. I look forward to spend too much money on that haha.

I’m excited about nano (Almost said about the next ice age), my personal life is in ruins, got no career to speak of but hey I can write some decent shit and that’s a reason not to off myself which is wearing thin haha.

This chapter is the more feelsy one, grab those tissues lads and laddettes, its about to get real up in here.

As usual head on over to those good smarmy twats over at inkitt to get your peepers all over it for free by following this here link. And if anyone wants to send me more pictures of green haired chicks, feel free haha.

Live through Death

~

Candlelight flickered on the counter top in TJ’s kitchen, a weary flame tossed back and forth by a careless breath or a sigh. TJ, his mother and Sunday huddled around the small kitchen table and ate in silence.  A restrained rattling of cutlery hid polite coughs and awkward glances across the table. No one dared utter a word.

TJ’s mom smiled at whomever cast an eye her way, but her smile was a little cracked on one side.

They finished a humble meal of frozen pork chops and a garden salad from a re-sealable pack, which TJ’s mother put back in the crisper at the bottom of the fridge. She cleared their plates.

“Mom, let me help you.”

“It’s fine. You two wash up and get to bed. I set you two up on the couch until we can get your room tidied up.” She sighed. “It’s such a mess; you said an animal got in?”

“Yeah,” TJ said as his hands slipped from the plates. He turned his head away and felt a cold steel ringing in the emptiness that was growing inside him.

His mom smiled as she took the plates to the dishwasher and loaded them in.

“It’s OK. I didn’t like any of those posters anyway; we can get it cleaned up in no time.” A weak laugh tried to escape her diaphragm, but it didn’t quite make it and instead came out as a pained hiccup.

TJ sat back down and looked at Sunday anxiously. She sat with her feet up on her seat, poking at a very dry piece of lettuce, trying not to be noticed.

“I’m done,” she said as she pushed the table away and hopped off the seat. She swam through the tension in the little kitchen and escaped to the cosy solitude of the living room.

TJ bit his bottom lip and swallowed a dry lump, his chest feeling tight and hot.

“Good night,” he said as he got up from the table and walked away. His footsteps, light, barely made contact with the floor. The image of his mother at the kitchen sink got smaller and smaller as he left the room. That image of her burned into his memory.

~

“It’s almost time,” Evergreen sighed. He felt a strange elation washing over him. He kept it to himself. “What do we have in stock?” he said through gritted teeth. A closeted eagerness leaked out in his voice as he leant against a high back chair in the operations van.

“Err, a couple of chimeras, one of those big bastards and that new one,” the tech said as he handed Evergreen a small tablet computer over his shoulder.

The tech seemed to be getting high off of Evergreen’s steely excitement. He sat in his chair, craning his neck to watch. Evergreen smiled, flipping through the pictures on the tablet as it lit up his dark, shark-like face. The mobile command centre was dark, lit only by a series of monitors. They covered the inside of something that looked like a large tanker truck from the outside.

Noticing the attention he was getting from this eager little whelp, Evergreen cast a disparaging eye towards the tech. He was a young guy, maybe late twenties, early thirties, with shaggy blond hair. A set of boxy glasses perched on his sharp nose. His name tag said his name was ‘Murray’. Tossing the tablet into his lap, he said, “Fuck it, ‘Murray’, use ’em all.”

Murray, feeling a little exposed, tilted his eyes down, cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses and got back to work. “Yes, sir. T minus two hours to full release of specimens.”

~

In the dimly lit living room, Sunday had commandeered the roomy sofa and had spread herself across it like Cleopatra. She wore another one of TJ’s zombie-themed shirts with no bottoms. ‘Evil Dead’, this time, with a picture of Ash lifting his chainsaw, ready for root canal work.

“Got a big day tomorrow,” she said as she rolled onto her side, away from TJ, revealing a set of pink panties with a picture of a little cartoon, a smiling green ice cream cone, on the back.

He turned away, trying not to look and burst a blood vessel; a sudden rush of sadness hit him. “Tell me…” He pulled a blanket off the coffee table. His mother had set out a bunch of folded bedding for them both. He began to lay it down flat on the wooden floor. “…Are we gonna make it?”

“What are you doing?” She turned to watch him laying the blanket on the floor. “There’s enough room for both of us on here.” She rolled back over onto her side.

“Err.” A cold sweat began plummeting down to TJ’s ass crack, like cold corpse fingers running down his back “What?” His breath came out in short bursts now.

“You need to get your rest for tomorrow.” She paused and took a deep breath. “You can’t sleep on the floor; I won’t let you.”

TJ swallowed hard, harder than he’d ever swallowed, and began to shake his head up and down like a dog.

“O-K.”

TJ edged his way closer to the couch. Each step felt like jumping on a slippery rock in a fast flowing stream. The image of Sunday’s warm back jostled in his field of vision as he tried to get closer. He reached the edge of the couch. He stopped dead, trying not to make a sound.

She rolled sleepily onto her back.

Without opening her eyes, she yawned and said, “TJ, get on the fucking couch.” She then rolled back onto her side, showing him her lovely back again, with that signature green quaff of hair sticking up from where she had just lain on it.

“Yeah, I’m just…”

He turned away and edged his roomy behind onto the tip of the couch, praying to himself in his head, Please don’t fart. Please don’t fart. Please don’t fart. When all his weight was equally distributed, he let out a little sigh, followed by a small yet squeaky fart that he hoped only dogs could hear. He froze, swallowing hard as he waited for her to say something. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! he said to himself. She stirred. His heart pounded in his chest. His throat became drier than a cough sweet sitting at the bottom of an old lady’s purse.

After a moment of nervous pause, he deduced that she was asleep and hadn’t heard, so he began to gradually lower himself into position on the couch. Pulling the cover up over himself and Sunday, he ever so delicately slid his large body in next to hers. His belly pressed against her warm back and, as he put his head down to rest next to hers, he could smell her hair. It smelled a little musty but not bad musty. Like the stump of a tree with fresh moss growing on it, fresh and rich and intoxicating. Her smell made his hair stand up on his pudgy arms. He tried to position his arms behind her back without touching her butt or making too much noise.

Don’t get a boner, don’t get a boner, don’t get a boner, don’t get a boner, he said to himself, under his breath, as he slithered his arm around her waist, angling for a more comfortable position while holding his breath. It was not unlike someone trying to defuse a bomb in an eighties action movie.

Sighing and releasing the tension in his arm, he grinned like a monkey and took a large inhalation of her hair as he settled into his dream position: the big spoon of a girl he couldn’t have imagined would say more than three words to him if the world wasn’t ending.

His heart leapt in his chest as if it wanted to climb out of his throat and give him a high five. For a minute he forgot what he was even doing on the couch. Oh, yeah, sleep.

He settled and forced his eyes closed. And he glided off to sleep on rainbows and bullshit.

~

Live through Death

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Hide & Seek By Jakayla Toney – A review

Usually what you’ll find on inkitt is people will only read the first chapter of a story and review that, for brevity but also because the first and last chapters are arguably the most important.
The first chapter if you’re going to send this to an editor/publisher/literary agent will in nine out of ten cases be the only chapter they need to read to ascertain whether they want to use your work. So essentially paired with a good synopsis/blurg, the first chapter has to be almost a summation of whats to follow in the entirity of the story.
I understand people like to slow boil their horror which is fine if you’re out their making a name for yourself with that and accumulate fans who like that sort of horror. But have you ever noticed that at the beginning of a horror movie there’s always a sort of prologue where someone else is suffering from the problem the protagonists are working their way towards. Not always but on average you’ll see it as a literal forshadowing. Even in the shining you’re told what happened to the previous caretaker as an effort of foreshadowing, the first conversation they have in the car on the way to the hotel is about the Donner party. People trapped in the winter being forced to eat eachother.
After reading the first chapter and the blurb I have literally no idea what the story is remotely about or have a good feel for any of the characters. You started the story at a point where literally nothing happens except a game of hide and seek. A game of hide and seek which neither serves the story or really develops the characters in any way other than the main protagonist is an excellent hide and seek player.
Other than that, I seem really critical but the writing style is effective, there were a few grammatical errors, even in the first paragraph. But the writing is solid, the first chapter is just too short and nothing happens, You need a hook in the first chapter to force people to read the next chapter, you can’t just end the chapter with “Oh wouldn’t it be cool to play hide and seek in the forest alone” that’s not a hook. It needs more.
Again sorry if this seems harsh, the style isn’t all that bad I’m just telling you how I see it, It’s not bad, I’ve read a lot worse, it’s just not great.

If you wanna check out this story for yourself and a lot of others, head on over to inkitt for the grand total of zero monopoly money.

Hide and Seek

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LYCE Chapter Chapter 8 ‘The Rabbit’

Running out of things to rant about, I guess I could rant about the nontroversy of the Trump tapes, as if that even matters, the news will report on anything these days it seems. I’m half expecting the next headline to be ‘TRUMP FARTS IN ELEVATOR’ ‘TRUMP LEAVES TOILET SEAT UP’ ‘TRUMP SEES MAN SNEEZE – DOESN’T SAY “BLESS YOU”‘. It’s kind of pathetic but there you go.

Almost finished this, it’s tough keeping it on the rails, my mind just wonders into the woods some times but I tried. I’m getting there, my work is becoming much more grounded as I put more time and effort into my research. Makes me hopeful for nano to see my progression but at the same time I’m thinking I should have done much more research for nano. But fuck it, I don’t really intend to win, I just think it’ll be good to switch off facebook for a month and do some solid work like I’m supposed to.
No fucking blogs, or twitter, or internet drama or trolling, any of that bullshit, just me and microsoft word and all the other shit I use.
It should be interesting, my first nano, I’ve got a blog share type thing coming up with a fairly famous zombie author, he’s more famous than me that makes him famous haha, John L Davis IV, so that should be interesting. I doubt he took the time to read my book but I picked up a copy of his and it’s pretty serviceable zombie fare.

Anyway back to the chapter at hand and yes, quite a few references to Lynch in here, a lot of twin peaks, a little wild at heart for some reason. I think it makes for a fun read, if anyone is reading it, my reviews seem to be getting more eyes on than any of my actual work for whatever reason that is. Ok well I’ll go kill myself then bye y’all haha.

Ok as usual you can find the full chapter for zero monies on inkitt by following this handy dandy linkamabob;

The Rabbit

Cheers!
~

The sign read ‘Twin Pines Lodge’ it was big and blue. The same colour blue adorned every door in the motel set into the cream colour walls. It was a common looking L shaped motel with the office closest to the street with a few adjoining rooms connected to it. Then you had the double packed rooms adjacent, facing out towards the street. There wasn’t a pine tree in sight. Just the large sycamores spaced out unevenly behind the back building.

The parking lot was nearly empty, there was a white minivan under a car port awning on the right of the entrance. And a white Toyota parked next to the office. He pulled into a space between the minivan and a big green dumpster that was facing out into street at an irregular angle. The dumpster was next to an oddly placed patch of grass that looked like someone’s front lawn. It was edged off by a black fence around the office of the neighbouring motel that had a nice little desert garden made up of cacti and orange rocks.

He got out of the car and looked around for a second with his hand cupped over his eyes. A curtain moved from one of the upstairs rooms. James felt exposed.

He walked slowly towards the small office building at the head of the fat snake. It was a tiny building partially hidden by some overgrown bushes. He entered and right of the bat got a trailer park feeling, the floor felt temporary, made of some sort of panelling covered in a carpet. There was no air-conditioning, just a big fan on the ceiling and one on the desk next to a nodding Chihuahua. He didn’t suspect the rooms had air conditioning either.

The room felt even smaller than it looked and even James not being of an advanced height felt it necessary to stoop. There wasn’t much to see, a beaten up couch that looked like it belonged in an airport waiting room. The carpet was blue, stained and pulled up at the edges, the owner probably had a dog. There was a small coffee table between the couch and a chair that didn’t match either the table nor the couch. A few tropical plants which also stooped.

There were a few framed pictures of what looked like stock photography of Caribbean islands, Barbados, maybe Jamaica. Some religious iconography above the desk, a picture of Jesus with the catholic heart and thorns. There was a crucifix next to it, just to make it doubly holy. The rest of the wall behind the desk was covered in framed plagues relating to some qualifications in motel owning and hospitality. Awards that looked like they’d been printed off the internet with the name; Howard Blum. An alcove behind the desk lead into the back where the owner probably lived. It didn’t have a door, just a set of those hanging beads that made a noise when you went through them.

James couldn’t put his finger on it but the room smelled stale, like the smell of rotting insect carcasses under a hundred-watt bulb. There was a bell on the desk, that on closer inspection actually looked like a doorbell that was taped to the counter, the wire running down the side. The desk itself was of some indistinguishable wood that was varnished to look like a hardwood. But it was patchy work and a lighter thinner wood showed underneath. Ringing the bell a second time he realised what the smell was. Taking a closer look at the nodding Chihuahua on the desk. He noticed it actually wasn’t nodding at all because in fact it was a real Chihuahua stuffed and mounted on the desk with a heavy looking ornate base. The plague read ‘Fido’.

He rang the bell again and listened, sounded like a TV was on in the back. He rang the bell again and heard a stirring, like someone waking up. He heard joints cracking, ankles creaked as they took on the weight of the body above them. A slow shuffling noise approached from the backroom.

A gaunt figure appeared mechanically and slow in the alcove. He parted the beads and entered as if he was coming out of an elaborate Swiss cuckoo clock. He was tall and thin but naturally stooped with age. He was wearing a string vest that really didn’t cover a lot up. His arms were sinewy and bare and there were visible tufts of white and grey chest hair sticking out of the places the old vest didn’t cover. His skin, wrinkled but looked as soft as a babies. His face was long and thin and looked like that of a sad horse with flecks of grey stubble and nose hair. He had full head of white hair sitting back on the top of his head. The style similar to that of Bob’s big boy, the mascot of the famous burger chain. A sort of fifties style swoop quiff. He was wearing a pair of Bermuda shorts and some fluffy pink slippers, hence the shuffling sound.

He shuffled behind the desk and cleared his throat.

“Err… this is going to sound strange- “James paused, suddenly flushed as he realised he hadn’t given any thought to what he was going to say. Or even what he hoped to find.

The old man’s eyelids fluttered as if he was dreaming and he lifted two weary grey eyes and pointed them at James with their bowed lids. “My dog barks some”.

James’ mind went completely blank as the old man stared at him “Err never mind, can you just give me a minute?”

“Mentally you picture my dog, but I have not told you the type dog which I have. Perhaps you might even picture Toto from the wizard of Oz” The man began to chuckle to himself. “But I can tell you my dog is always with me.” The old man said as he shuffled back to his room behind the alcove.

James went outside and paced some, he thought about lighting a cigarette but he remembered he didn’t have any. Come to think of it he’d given up years ago, so why that craving would come back now seemed odd. Maybe just something to do with his hand or a reason to be hanging around outside.

There was a small shooting pain behind his eyes. He put a palm against his eye and opened his mouth wide. Turning his head, he took a quick scan of the rooms to see if anything at all was familiar.

Every room looked identical moving across from the office, that same blue door. There was only one noticeable difference about the room on the end of the single story block. The door was ajar.

~

The Rabbit

 

 

 

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Ensanguined by Patrick Zac – A review

This first chapter is great. It’s punchy, it get’s right to the point, it delivers but doesn’t all together rush it either.
One thing I’m really critical of is long middling slow boil first chapters. Sometimes they work but most of the time they don’t. I think the story should start at the most interesting part of a person’s life, I don’t care if they’re great at cross stitch or they got a b minus in history, If that’s not the what the story is about and it’s not interesting I don’t care. I want meat and this story has meat, buckets of fresh bloody meat.
The story is great, not a lot happens at the start, by that I mean you don’t learn a hell of a lot about the main character but it was quite a short first chapter. That being said her voice is very strong, acerbic and a little self-depricating which is why I likened it to Dexter.
Although the Dexter analogy is a double edged sword, because although I loved those books and the show and I love the first person style. I like being inside a serial killer’s mind. It’s been done before and it’s been done incredibly well. Trying to compete with Jeff Lindsay is like trying to wrestle with a miami aligator, it’s not gonna go your way. And although I love the style it seems a little hackneyed a little by the standards of a Dexter Devotee like myself.
That’s my only real criticism. I loved the jump from the date to the murder, just no time wasted, cut straight through the bullshit like a hot knife through butter. It functions perfectly as a first chapter, just gets right into it and delivers a succint synopsis of what’s to come. A really great hook, which is what a first chapter should be. So you nailed in that respect I think.
The description of the murder is very nice too, gory but not over the top, it’s tasteful but still sates the blood lust of the reader.
Another criticism I have is I think readers when they write women they tend to mistake bitchiness for confidence or character. I see this slipping into that. So in some regards I think you should make her a little more self-depricating like Dexter. One great thing about Dexter is his ability to laugh at himself, which allows him to be the monster but still allows him to be likeable.

Final thoughts, I actually think this is something I could write, the style is a mirror of mine in some respects and I’ve dreamed of writing Dexter fanfiction this might be the inspiration or the push I need to do that. The last book just left a hole that needs to be filled by something.
I loved it, keep it up!

If you wanna check it out for yourself, head on over to inkitt to read Ensanguined and Patrick’s other stories for free.

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LCYE Chapter 7 ‘Sinnerman’

Hello hello, back again with another chapter of this trippy dippy attempt at a psychological thriller. I think its shaping up nicely. By that I mean spiralling out of control into a complete surreal David Lynch parody clusterfuck but atleast I’m having fun. It’s something to do. And since I’ve sort of run out of things to rant about and there doesn’t seem to be anything interesting going on that isn’t american presidential election related so I’ll just keep writing and throwing that at you. Not like you want to hear my unfetted opinion anyway, I’m pretty much talking to myself.

This blog has sort of become just an insane time captual of my gradual decline, like some stardate log on a doomed space vessel heading to the sun and possible alien rape.

It could be worse right, I could be the person taxed with keeping whatever Hillary Clinton is alive and fed with bugs and mice.

That being said… is a phrase that’s over used these days I noticed, that being said here is the chapter in question. Sinnerman named after the song of the same name, we get a little window into the psychology of the killer but not really. It’s a fun if cliche’d autopsy exposition scene. Done a million times in almost every crime show/movie but it never gets old. Hopefully I kept it fresh, if not, oh well.

As always you can read the full chapter and all subsequent chapters on my inkitt page for the one time offer of zero shekels down do not pass go do not collect three hundred rare Pepes #notallpepes.

Sinnerman

~

Con paced back and forth in his expensive suit at the side of the road. He shook his head as he hung it. Casting a weary glance at the big open plot of grassland at the side of the road.
He stumbled up onto the uneven grassy embankment to look out at the horizon. It was mid-morning and hot. The sun was pregnant in the sky, squatting on the California mountain range. He took a deep breath as and shook his head again. So much emptiness. There was only small wire fence running along the side of the road accompanied by the telephone poles running parallel. A large grain silo in the distance. He was surprised anyone lived here in all this emptiness. All that light brown grass all that fresh air, he stole away one wild west fantasy and let it go again.

After another few minutes of stamping his feet and licking his lips he walked across the street to the black Lincoln.

Harri was sitting on the hot hood with her sunglasses on, a pair of cheap truck stop aviators. Her arms folded as she put all her weight on her heels and her sensible half heeled shoes.

“Feelin’ better?” She called out.

“Sorry, just getting car sick.” He flashed her a winning smile on that handsome face and then dropped it again. “You ready?”.

“Sure” She gave her own conservative smile and peeled herself off the car.

Con walked bow legged towards the large flat building behind the parked Lincoln. Harri followed smiling and shaking her head.

The Riverside county coroner’s office was a large rectangular building. It was fairly modern looking in some respects, old in others. It was tan stucco all the way around sitting atop a large glass front that wrapped around the whole building making it look like an uneven wedding cake. The windows all looked black from the glare. Riverside County Sheriff’s Coroner embossed in big silver letters on the side of the building.

The surrounding greenery was well kept to a point. The grass had dry desert bald patches but that was to be expected. A few clusters of cypress trees were dotted around. Maybe to give the impression that this wasn’t the middle of nowhere and civilisation would greet you a few miles in either direction. Either side a great distance apart was a post office and what looked like a stationery store.

The entrance was another big rectangular box which jutted out in an awkward L shape. There was a strange red outcropping over the door. It looked like a red piece of prepacked cheese slice hanging from a sandwich at a jaunty angle. The whole building gave off an aura of flat-pack furniture.

Con waited for Harri at the door turning to shield his eyes and scrunch his face up, he looked pale and a little sickly. Harri brushed past him as she broke the seal on the door which made a sucking hissing sound that gave way to a cool blast of air conditioning. Thus completing the illusion of a walk in freezer.

Inside it was modern and simple. There was a small waiting area with a wooden table and matching furniture. A flustered middle age woman with an eighties haircut and blue blazer sat at a small light wood reception desk. A phone pressed tightly to her ear.

Harri did her usual bit as she liked to do. She strode up to the reception desk and flashed her laminate.

“FBI, you’re expecting us”

The flustered woman had no time to think and just nodded furiously and blurted out “Err room 3b, end of the hall”.

Harri smiled politely and quickstepped down the hall followed by a queasy looking Con squinting at the halogen lights.

It smelled like a hospital, but the smell of cleaning products was much stronger. As if the walls were soaked in it or there was bleach in the sprinkler system.

Harri marched down the narrow hallway, she could feel it getting colder. She knew that had to be a step in the right direction. The floors in the lobby were that locking wood flooring, now it was all clean squeaky linoleum like a hospital. The walls were all white with a few tasteful paintings and bulletins dotted about. Con plodded on behind her as she stalked the halls looking for 3b. She found it, it was a large stainless steel sliding door with a little porthole window at the side. She looked inside through the foggy window. She could see mounds of bodies wrapped up in see through plastic. They all looked like props in a scary movie lying on stainless steel shelves with raised lips.

“Oh you’re here” A shy perky voice behind her croaked out.

A small fat man in a lab coat peaked out from an office door on the other side of the hall. There was more of that pale wood lining the windows in the office and the writing surfaces. All the work surfaces were stainless steel.

“FBI right?” The small man said.

“Uh huh, Special agent Harriet Jaguer and this is my partner, Special Agent Con Folsome.” Con shambled along just as she introduced him. He looked a little better, the cold seemed to straighten out some of the wrinkles on his suit and his face. He was just in time for a vigorous handshake from a pair of very sweaty and inextricably hairy hands.

“Gary Dole, it’s good to meet you folks, don’t get many of you men in black fellas out here”.

The little man was bald and had the greying stubble of a plumber all over his face. A set of wire framed reading glasses resting atop his head. His face looked like someone had taken silly putty and put it on a boiled egg and frozen it. Squishy looking features that were left to set hard. A stubby nose and tight rounded lips on a small alert face.

Sinnerman

 

 

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