Darkly Dreaming Demographic.

Where weird shit hits bizarre fans.


April 2017

GS2 Chapter 1 ‘Crick in my Neck’

Hey yall,

Still busy with the launch as you know, book one is launching, the 2nd of May. Going on another zombie podcast on the first, so that timing is great. Just busy writing/proofreading book two and of course spamming and getting reviews for book one.

Basically making excuses for the lack of updates and the brevity of this blog haha. This is just another pre-edit post proofread one of the first chapter officially of book two of Green Sunday.

So here it is chapter one ‘Crick in my Neck‘ on inkitt.

And of course you can pre-order my book for the low low price of 99c for a limited time only on amazon. Green Sunday

“Is that the smell of popcorn?” TJ heard himself say. “It’s so dark”

“Shhhhh, that’s cos you’ve got your eyes closed fool.”

TJ took a sharp snort of air and shook his head like he was waking but he wasn’t lying down. He was sat fairly upright in a soft if a little sticky chair with wooden armrests.

“And now the main part of the show. I, Zomnision, will talk to the deaaaad!” A theatrical voice boomed over the sound system.

“What the hell, what’s going on, mom are you there?” TJ opened his eyes a slit. His head felt heavy and all his limbs were stiff and unresponsive. His vision blurred, slowly coming into focus, he was in some sort of large room, at an incline. Red seats in rows, low soft light, the sound of people chattering quietly, sighing, ooing and ahing at something on stage. Stage, there was a stage.

Tj scractched his stubbly double chin and looked around a cosy small town theatre. The stage below was that of a small comedy club backed by large red curtains.

“Bring out your dead mwuahahaha!” A cheesey voice cackled over the speakers.

“Who the hell is that, where the hell am I?” Tj said biting his tongue into a hushed harshed whisper.

“Would you shut the hell up” The man next to him whispered. He was a black man around TJ’s age, he’d never seen him before but the way he talked he seemed to know him. “Look, TJ, a guy sent me to come and find you” The man was young with short hair, average build, a coiled frustration under the surface. He had the air about him of someone who felt like they were doing you a favour by not standing on your face. He looked around cautiously. “We can’t talk here, wait til the shows over and we can go somewhere quiet and I can explain everything. Names Jimmy.”

“And what is your name lovely lady?”


“And who would you like to make contact with today?”

“My daddy.”

On the stage a guy wearing a sequin covered smock making him look like liberachi’s buttplug spoke into a microphone in some weird old time radio voice. He wore a strange swammy hat with an eye in the centre that looked like one of those googly eyes you get with the fake glasses and moustaches. He had a large theatrical hipster moustache which dated him but he was a good looking if slightly effeminate man in his early thirties. He had the manneurism of a kid who got into his mothers wardrobe and pranced around in front of the mirror in her pantyhose. Taller than average with a gaunt build. He was holding a microphone with his pinky out, talking to a fat woman in a moomoo. The woman had dull cow-like eyes and after thought eighties hair that look glued on.

He faced out towards the stage and spoke to the audience.

“What befell your father my fine lady?” He spoke with his hands like he was trying to communicate through intepretive dance.

“Well he was drinking some, I dunno radioactive energy drink I guess, had some of them err, isotropes or whatever in ’em and he keeled over.” Anna stood unmoving with her arms by her side due to the nervousness of being in front of a crowd of people. Still smiling as she spoke as she couldn’t help but enjoy the attention.

“Ah yes, well I think it’s time we brought your father out here and see if his spirit still remains trapped in his earthly form.”

Zomnision clapped his hands together theatrically. Two large ushers that looked like they worked nights as bouncers due to the fake tan and pencil thin beards appeated. They both wore black shirts that said ‘staff’ on them. They wrestled a man with a bag on his head onto the stage. As they got closer to the swammy he turned to the audience and said “Now will my lovely assistants show us the dead man’s face. For the eyes are the windows to the soul and I must gaze deeply into them if I am to read the mind of the dead.”

The two ushers looked at eachother, scrunching up their brows and said in unison “What he say?”

“Take the bag off his head” The swammy whispered with a biting bridled rage.

TOTCB Chapter 7 ‘Sorrows Child’

Bonjourno people,

With the launch of my first book (officially) around the corner, let’s take the time to look at this other, less good book I wrote over nanowrimo which I curse to this very day for making me rush this could have been master piece haha. Nah I don’t really care, it got my word count out of the dirt. My rate now is up to where I can write a full novel in like two months give or take proofing and what not and that’s with days off to market my old stuff so it’s cool. It was a good excercise for my mind. Got me out of that devil may care attitude, it was a kick in the butt I needed. But never again haha.

But who knows, after the edit, it might be bareable and Brian my publisher might like it and it could make money someday, but for now it shall be free for the people.

That’s pretty much it, only update I really have is I suck at gwent online haha.

As usual, the link is below, and an excerpt.

See you..

Sorrows Child


The party had waned, people with full bellies and rosey cheeks rolled out to their cars and trucks. Peggy waved them off. Johnny said he was tired and locked himself in his room for the rest of the day.

Peggy was about to call it and get an early night with some true crime shows and a cup of hot tea when the phone rang. Which was strange since pretty much everyone she knew was either here on their way out or were on their way home.

She answered the phone with a curt “Yes”.

“Hello, is this Peggy Carson?” A woman on the other end said.

“That’s me”

“This is special agent Nancy Jageur of the federal bureau of investigations. I was wondering why you hadn’t brought Johnny in for a formal interview yet. It’s been almost two weeks now since he arrived isn’t that right?”

“Yeah well we just wanted to get him settled before we got into all that, you know?” Peggy seemed nervous she put the phone in the crux of her neck and fiddled with her wedding ring.

“I understand but I have an investigation to follow up on and the longer we wait the colder the trail will get. I’ll need you to meet me as soon as possible”

“Ok, I can do that”

“I’ve organised a room for us at the San Antonio missing children’s centre. How’s Monday afternoon for you?” Nancy said idly as if she was booking a nail appointment.

“Err, yeah, Monday is good, we’ll bring him in then”

“That’s great, I’ll see you then”.

“Bye” Peggy said as she clumsily hung up the phone, her nerves were a little shot maybe she drank too much. It was time for bed at least.

As soon as Nancy put down the phone Con looked up from the report he was reading and said “So?”



“I said Monday” Nancy smiled.

“You’re excited?”

“Anxious” She said as she looked at the colour Photostat picture of Johnny. The san Antonio missing children’s centre had sent it over. He was a good looking blonde haired blue eyed kid no more than thirteen years of age.

Con and Nancy had been set up in a small back office in the Bureau’s San Antonio field office. It was a simple and old looking room with white corkboard walls. Halogen ceiling lights blaring day and night. A paltry ceiling fan that did next to nothing. The desks were brown chipboard like the ones you’d get in a community college classroom. Still there were free donuts and the coffee wasn’t half bad. Lots of Mexican style pastries.

“Did she say why she didn’t call as soon as they had him?”

“Something like that” Nancy rocked back and forth in her swivel chair. Tossing thoughts in her head like bales of hay.

“What is it?”

“I dunno, there’s just something off about her, she seemed really nervous.” Her voice got distant as she reached for a blank white coffee cup on her desk.

“But she’s not the one coming in for an interview, it’s the kid. Maybe she just doesn’t like cops”.

“We’re not cops” Nancy smiled and turned her head sideways.

“Yeah but you sound like one” Con gave a sharky grin.

Nancy chupsed and squinted.

Con snorted.

She reached into the pink pastry box on her desk and threw a chirro at him that he deftly dodged laughing.

Oh Golley-gee Green Sunday has a release date!

Great googly moogly, the day has come and that day is the 2nd of may, and that kind of rhymed, how special.

Everything is set, got the final cover as the head image, the edits are done, I don’t know about audiobooks yet but it’s all a go and I’m set to go on another podcast the day before it launches, which works out great. Got my advanced reviews hopefully coming in, gotta shake some people down for those. Prices are gonna come out at 99c for the ecopies for a limited time, then they’re gonna shoot up the exorbitant price of $2.99 bwaahaha!

Updates updates, almost finished GS2 and I’m proofreading as I go in between spamming GS1 and I did a short story for an anthology which was fun, I’ll probably post that at some point. I’m actually really looking forward to finish this book because this next series I know is gonna be the shit. But I’ve had so much fun writing GS2, it’s criminal, and this one is so much better than the first. The action, the comedy, the satire, the drama, all wratcheted up. I’m slowly building an actual story here too, so it’s not just a bunch of zombie ‘stuff’ happening haha. I’m very satisfied with it.

I also have some awesome ideas for the new cover, so I can’t wait to get that going. I just love creating and spending my money on cool shit more than I actually like making money haha. I will die poor, in short. Poor but with a satisfied grin on my face.

Gonna have some full cover mock ups below with the blurb and everything.

I think that’s pretty much everything, still giving out those advanced review copies and those free ebooks of course for the mailing list sign up.

So pretty time all round.

See you…

Green Sunday 2 Chapter 0 ‘The big Boss’

I done did it, I just kinda thought ‘fuck it’.

I’ve been really busy lately, why I haven’t been blogging in like two weeks. I took the final edit of GS1 a little too seriously and it took two weeks of me going over it with a fine tooth comb to get it ready for publication. I took some breaks to keep up writing the sequel of course. I’m not a total retard, it doesn’t take me two weeks to read my own book haha.

So now that’s out of the way I thought, ‘Hey why not?’ So here it is GS2; ‘Second Sunday’. I’m playing with the title, either that or ‘Another Sunday’

Keeping it short and sweet today, gotta leave more bullshit for tomorrow haha. So peace out folks and of course, check out the rest of the chapter on inkitt or just ya know wait fucking months for it to come out in a hard copy haha.

And we’re back to the icecream thing again because… it’s rough unedited shit man, straight from the insanity oven haha

See you…

GS2; Second Sunday Chapter 0

“Eh yello! Mr Peshwari-san how are you this fine Thursday?” A daper man said into a bluetooth headset. “Uh huh, yeah, oh yeah he’s dead, nothing left. We were picking up pieces of him with tampons and little packing peanuts soaked in bleach.” He let out a little unintentional laugh. “Oh yeah then we burnt the whole town to the ground, it was fun we roasted marshmellows and told racist jokes.” An Asian man in a golden suit was sitting at a large ostentatious onyx desk in the shape of two black women pressing their asses together. His feet resting crossed legged atop a curvaceous butt cheek.

He was listening on the phone smiling as the man on the end nattered Charlie brown style into his ear as he nodded smiling. “Well what can I say, don’t let your kids compete in zombie deep web gameshows I guess, I mean that’s a given right? Uh huh” He looked around his office getting a little bored now. Yawning with the affectation of one missing out on some interesting thing passing by the window while on the phone. He had the air of someone who would break his neck turning his head to see something. Anything to keep boredom from creeping in, but that was fine because he could afford to get it fixed.

His office aside from the desk was what you might except from some yuppy half-asian weeb. Zen gardens, samurai swords hanging on the wall, Japanese versions of old western movie posters and old ukiyo ed paintings. A mix of American and Japanese styles tastefully seething around the new looking tacky sex desk. A giant picture of himself behind his desk pulling a trollish grin giving the ‘ok’ sign. The plaque read “’Dirty’ Dan Pudgiwara – Ceo Pudgiwara industries.”

“Uh huh, huh, ok, well but- yeah, well I’m sorry, he signed a waiver. We’re not liable for his unfortunate demise competing in an illegal underground zombie hunting contest, ok, I don’t know where you’re going with this.” He nodded his head a little more, shaking it smiling like he was about to laugh. “You’re just saying words now, ok yeah, what do you want me to do about it? There isn’t enough of him to fill one of those little girl jimmy hats.”

He crinkled his nose listening, swivelling in his chair like a bored toddler. “He was a big boy and sometimes big boys get mulched by their own claymores, he wasn’t playing golf for the love of fuck. You’re just whining like a little bitch, what do you want me to do? You’re like a muslim or something right you’ve got to have more than one son, you fucking people breed like bunnies. Sikh, whatever.” A pause as he listened and his face grew some lines in an otherwise baby visage. “He was your only son, well sucks to be you I guess. Ironically I can’t bring him back to life unless you want a living dead puddle. Maybe you could put whats left of him in a paddling pool and soak your feet in the faggot.” He continued to listen only to wait for breaks to say more offensive shit. “Uh huh, yeah, well fuck me if you want to throw more money at it be my guest. Don’t you have more important things to do like fucking goats, plaiting your fucking beard hair?”

Mr Evergreen, a tall man, pitch black in skin colour but with the smooth symmetrical features of a clothes mannequin sidled into the room. He was wearing a pressed charcoal suit over a rigid atheletic frame a binder under his arm. He entered the room without making a sound. “Well good day to you too Peshwari-san.” Dan said smiling a shit eating grin as he put the phone down. Turning his best Nicholas Cage surprised smile on Evergreen as he propped his elbows onto the ass cheeks of his desk and cradled his head.

“Who was that?”


I need you, I need you both. I know we said a lot of things and I know you’re probably never going to read this, it’s just going to collect dust in your spam folder, maybe that’s what I want. But I had to get it out. I still love you, more than anything and I love her even though I’ve never met her except in my dreams, I love her and I would give my life to make her smile. I think someday we can have another chance, you’re crazy, I’m crazy but I really thought we could fix eachother, maybe so, maybe not, but it’s worth the risk. Maybe not to you, and that’s why we’re where we are now.

All I know is I lost something once in a lifetime, and maybe you lost less than that and you think I deserve to be miserable and maybe I do but I stand by what I said. If you’d give me another chance I’d spend my whole life making up for it, earning it day by day.

A warm summers day

The breeze blows through the far trees,

Your head on my chest.

A sweet dream of you

Your beautiful little smile,

The sun smiles at you,

The wind laughs with you,

My heart swells to hear your voice

Chase those clouds away.

I just want to be part of her life.

Green Sunday final Chapter ‘Game Over, Man’ Release schedules, edits and other junk.

Well here it is… again haha.

It’s been a long road but it’s coming to an end now, I’m working through what should be the final edit now, we’ll be talking release schedules in a matter of weeks now and it should be going to amazon in hard and e-copies. It’s weird thinking back, I didn’t think this series would break the bank but I’ve had a lot of fun with it and now someone has taken an interest and picked it up and given it some air of legitimacy it feels real.

It’s good, its better than I could have hoped for and with book two on the way things are looking up and I’m getting really excited to launch another series and stop talking about walking corpses haha. As soon as book two of GS is done, I’m gonna barrel on ahead to doing the Dexter style thing with no fixed name yet haha. Gonna start hammering it out in earnest, really excited about that. Hopefully my publisher will like it, if not, oh well haha.

Not sure I mentioned this but I think I will go ahead and give away my nano novel to the lovely folks on my mailing list as a thankyou. So I’m gonna have that edited on the cheap, probably a few chapters a month and have it out sometime later in the year.

I hope that goes down well, its free so…

As usual, an excerpt and a link.

And of course, still giving out those advanced review copies to bloggers/reviewers/whomever.

See you…

Game Over, Man


Helicopter blades span slowly: giant, straight blender blades whipping up the thin air, making it as thick as eggs and cream, and allowing the helicopter to climb. The large ex-military chopper lumbered into flight. The chandelier inside added another metric tonne, ensuring a luxurious but unhurried flight.

Laura sat in the co-pilot’s seat, securely fastened in and wearing a headset, for full effect. She smiled at Carpenter who leaned over her seat, the gun on the headrest pointing sideways at Nigel. The aging pilot seemed to be attempting an escape by sea, gradually filling the cockpit with his sweat.

Carpenter gave a toothy grin, feeling like a pirate, an air pirate, riding into the wind, to freedom or death. What’s the difference, he thought as he squeezed the headrest and rapped his fingers across the handle of the gun. He felt a dramatic swell of emotion, as if he were hearing ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ and just over the those snow-capped mountains might be a Viet Cong rice paddy just waiting for a lick of fresh napalm.


A monitor glowed in a dark room. The image panned back on a small-town gun store with a mosaic of blood and bones out the front. A tapestry of offal and brain matter had spread over a ten-foot area.

“Well, at least he paid in advance,” Murray said with a wry laugh, choked off entirely by a stern, searching glance from Evergreen.

“Indeed,” Evergreen sighed.

“Well, you know he signed a contract? What are we gonna tell his helicopter pilot?” Murray quickly tapped away at his personal monitor’s keyboard. “That reminds me, the team guarding it haven’t reported in, err, going on fifteen minutes now. Should I send another?”.

Evergreen gave a small, breathy laugh and sucked the inside of his cheek. “Hnh, no. I’ll go. I need the exercise.” With that, he opened the mobile command centre’s door and stepped out into the bright noonday sun, allowing it to penetrate the perfect dark of the little mobile man cave.

Murray called after him, his voice trailing off as he sat alone in the half-dark. “HEY, YOU MIND closing the do- ass!”




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