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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?”

–

0

TOTCB Chapter 6 ‘Red Shoes’

Ergh, ever have one of those days where your head just feels packed with sand and you haven’t even been drinking and coffee makes it worse haha?

Don’t really have much to blather about today really, GS2 trucking along, my publishing deal is working out ok. I was checking out my publisher and he’s a right wing christian so I was like ‘phew’ I can’t afford to have another enemy at this point haha. It’s not that I hate left wing people, it’s just I’m abrasive as fuck and I love to troll and trigger people and leftwing people just don’t go in for that. So if I was constantly offending him that would be a problem.

The ideas for the Dexter continuations/spinoff are firing on all cylinders, I was in the shower just writing on my rainfall showerhead haha. It’s really spinning together in my head, it’s falling in to place and it’s almost a problem because I’m like a dog trying to chase two cars now haha. Like I’m balls deep into GS2 right now but now I’m looking over to this like ‘Mmm’, mainly because it’s like that sort of fun but with the serious edge to it like LCYE. It’s not a dumb zombie novel but could be just as fun as one to write.

Some people are reading this and going like ‘why aren’t you writing it down?’. My process isn’t really like that, if I wrote down what was in my head right now it would just be a mess. It’s like giving birth to a baby, you can’t rush it, it needs to be a solid fully realised mass before it can born or it wont be whole. I need to hammer it out and forge the idea before I can start shaping it into something real.

I mentioned before I didn’t really get that much positive feedback from The one who came back, and honestly that’s bad from something that could be standalone, or it could be a loose series. Porter Caraway is a character I want to keep. But I’ve worked out a deal with my original editor Nat to do a chapter by chapter edit on the cheap and I’ll probably just give it out as a free novel through my mailing list because I owe you people more free shit and it’s not a bad novel, it’s just not my best I guess. It was rushed over nano, but it still has something. So there’s that.

Check out the unedited excerpt below and you can always read the whole raw thing on inkitt with the link below.

See you…

Red Shoes

–

Peggy thought if thy gave him a normal routine, he’d snap back eventually and become the kid they knew. So for a few days he got up he had breakfast, he had lunch and dinner, he watched movies, he went for a drive. A steady diet of normalcy, easing him out of his shell.

She had Brandon take him for a drive to a storage locker close to their old place. It was a large concrete block of a place, filled inside with red sliding shutters packed in tight. Like some kind of maze.

They found their locker. Brandon opened the padlock on the big red sliding shutter with a key from his jeans pocket.

“We locked up most of your stuff here when we moved. Momma didn’t have the heart to take it back, it was too hard for her, you know.” Brandon forced a smile and lead Johnny into the musty storage locker.

It wasn’t that full, it was a smaller box locker about six by six. There was a mattress on it’s side with a large brown stain in the middle, probably from damp in the locker.

Boxes, lots of boxes, some of them looked a little soggy.

“Hey why don’t we split up and see what we can find?” Brandon said smiling, like it was a game.

“Ok” Johnny said.

He smiled like a big brother. Johnny seemed like he was getting more comfortable talking to people. It was reassuring to hear his voice louder even if it was in a different accent. Brandon put his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. He breathed in and patted him on the back and ruffled his hair a little knocking off his baseball cap. Johnny was still wearing his dark glasses inside so there was more work to be done but there was some progress. Some light at the end of the tunnel.

Johnny opened a box that said ‘Johnny’s stuff’ on it.

“We kept everything the cops didn’t take, you know, for evidence”.

Johnny went through the box that was mostly pictures and little toys. Army men and gun shaped things, nothing really stood out except one picture.

It was a picture of Johnny before he disappeared. He was standing under a tree with a man who’s head was cut off by the top of the picture. Even though he couldn’t see his face he knew he hadn’t met this person yet. He couldn’t remember him from any of the other pictures he’d been shown.

He looked at himself in the picture and the expression was odd. He looked sick or sad or scared, and was fingering a strange necklace or pendant hanging around his neck.

Brandon stuck his chin over Johnny’s shoulder as he put a box of moth balls down.

“Oh that’s your older brother Jack” He got a little closer and pointed directly at the necklace. “He bought you that weird necklace thing you’d never take off. You were always into that aliens and ghosts and voodoo crap as a kid, dungeons and dragons, you know.” He paused and cocked his head for a moment as if he was struggling to fill the silence “I mean what kid isn’t? Some of the neighbours thought you were abducted by aliens” He laughed.

Brandon got a little sad as she took the picture off of him. “This was taken a couple of days before you went missing.” He gave it back to him and Johnny studied it.

Johnny took a closer look at the necklace in the picture. It was some kind of bird. Maybe an owl, standing on top of a circle with a five pointed star in it like it was the hood ornament of a car.

“Oh that’s right. You’ll probably meet Jack later today at the barbecue.” Brandon hiked up a box on his hip and turned around “It was supposed to be a surprise, Peggy’s idea. I got you out of the house for a bit and we have a little welcome home barbecue. Get you re-acquanited with some of the family.” He walked towards the entrance. “Come on, help me to the car with some of this stuff and we’ll see how it’s going.”

Johnny nodded. He put the picture back in the box and closed it up then picked it up and walked to the entrance of the locker. Brandon slid the door closed.

–

0

Zombiecast Podcast Appearance and other stuff.

Yoyoyo, we authors now.

Yes, I stayed up past my bedtime last night/this morning, I know right, so hard so sad. I’m fucking with you, I’m pretty much nocturnal because I’m a neckbeard loser who lives in his mother’s basement and has no life other than making skyrim orc waifu’s haha.

So I was allowed to go on this lovely show on the allgames network called zombiecast, I’ll leave a link to it down below and yeah it was a lot of fun. I kinda sound like a zombie and we spend a lot of time talking about my shitty english accent haha but we get some zombie stuff in there. They let me plug my crap, I kinda didn’t do a great job of selling Green Sunday but you know we shit talked a little bit, I mean the book isn’t even out so really I just wanted to spurg about zombies and dumbshit like that, talk nonsense, get some bantz going and honestly I could have been on for a lot longer it was really fun and easy.
I was pretty nervous actually but then we got into it and it was very conversational and the hosts were very laid back and chilled out, so it was just a lot of fun. Also the author of American Revenant my good virtual friend (haha) the honourably John L Davis the fourth was in the chat laughing at how fucking stupid I sound haha. Of course he blew us all away with stories of his book landing in the hands of Jeffrey Dean Morgan, that’s Negan. Negan is reading his book, what a jammy git. I mean that’s so cool, I’m really happy for him and bless him the guy works hard he really deserves it, much more than me anyway haha.

So yeah that happened and Normi said I could come back on when the book launches, which is definitely something I’ll do and she wants a signed copy which is doable, now if she can get it to Negan, wouldn’t that be nice haha? I’d honestly prefer it goes to the guy who plays Trevor in GTAV haha I love that guy. If anyone would like my writing it’d be that guy haha.

Ok down to business, the business of updates. Been chugging along with the sequel to GS and it’s going pretty well, it’s a joy to write about halfway through now depending on whether it shapes up to about 80k or under like last time. It’s just such a guilty pleasure for me because honestly I feel ashamed to write zombie fiction I feel ashamed to tell people who aren’t fans of that stuff about it because it’s dumb it’s not real. I really want to use it as launching pad for my serious/semi-serious dexter style novels. But it’s like being between a rock and a hard place because I love writing it but I know it’s basically trash most normies would snub but I think the people that enjoy this stuff might love it so I do it for them and for me.

The contract is sorted for Muddy Boots, still working on the cover, and the new edits so when that’s all done we’ll be moving on to launch schedules, got quite a bit to do in the mean time, but we should have physical copies audiobooks, the whole nine yards, I’m really excited, how could I not be?
Still doing the review copy shenanigans and of course signing up to my mailing list will bank you free ebooks, I say books, it means one book, the same book haha. When I finish my other novella, I’ll switch to that, how does that sound, or I might just give away my nano novel haha.

And here’s the link to the episode I’m in, I’m like an hour and I don’t think you can skip so *raspberry noise*, honestly it’s a great show, if you like walking dead you should definitely give it a listen.

Zombiecast

amrev

You lucky bastard haha.

See you…

0

LCYE Chapter 15 ‘A World of Madness’

Hola seniors and senioritas,

Had like a minor backlash from my comments about camwho- I mean cosplay girls. No but seriously, I dunno, I guess I was in a bad mood or something, when am I not amirite haha? And my disdain for normies and facebook admins had reached its peak boil. I just can’t stand these little internet nazis thinking they can tell me what I can say and when I can say it and how. Like this facebook group is their own little dictatorship, it’s just fucking infuriating talking to these idiots so I just block them when they message me with these fucking snide little diatribes about how I posted on the wrong day or I didn’t ask their permission first. Fuck you, I’ll post whenever I goddamn like, don’t like it kick me out of the group, there are only like a million more groups without you controlling them.
I just can’t stand these people with this inflated sense of self-importance. People who have zero power over their own lives using what little power they have on the internet to police others, it’s as Donald Trump would say ‘Sad’.
But anyway that’s my spiel and I’m sticking to it, still think cosplay is shit and the people who do it are just fat attention whores and you can’t copyright a picture you took of your own fat ass. Honestly that post got shitloads of traffic so maybe more of that cancer is useful.

I guess my personal life turning to shambles just has me on edge and anyone who sticks their neck out is about to get cut in one way shape or form.

Anyway that bullshit out-of-the-way, gonna get into some updates. So the contract with Muddy boots is signed, haha he can’t turn back now, totally stuck with me haha. What does that mean, well the book is going back for another edit, hopefully my cover cost will be compt, which would be nice. Not sure I’d do anything productive with the money, maybe buy another knife haha.

That’s underway, should have a release schedule soon, more people on my mailing list, kinda surprised by how steady it’s building and honestly it’s all due to the awesome cover Mike did for me. It looks spectacular in a thumbnail.

In other news people seem to love the book that or they’re polite enough to lie to me haha. Had lots of positive feedback, should amount to a lot of nice reviews, I’m also going on a zombie themed podcast soon, so that should be fun.

GS2 is coming along nicely, kinda feel like I’m rushing it a little but out of just excitement really, feel like a dog chasing rabbits. I just want to get into it and it’s shaping up really nice. You know you’re enjoying writing when it makes you smile even writing it. I might have bitten off more than I can chew characterwise but I think I differentiated them and made them giant fucking stereotype caricatures enough to make them stand out and not have them just blur into one. But fuck I’m having fun, currently lying in a hospital bed which is my coach being treated for Xcom 2 addiction, the struggle is real.

Other than that and my crippling loneliness, alls good on the western front oh and the postman just brought me my polish gwent decks, pisser.

And here, completely unconnected is an excerpt of the penultimate chapter of a novella you should have already in e-copy if you’ve signed up to my mailing list LADIES CLOSE YOUR EYES. If you wanna check out the full thing head on over to my inkitt page and if you want the full edited version sign up to the mailing list to get a free copy for your ebook reader.

Thanks for checking in.

See you…

A World of Madness

–

There was an annoying buzzing sound rattling the real wood bedside table of the Thunderbird lodge.

Some stirring under the covers.

A brown naked arm stretched out to pick the phone off the bedside table and retracted back under the warmth of the covers.

“Special agent Harriet Jageur speaking” A muffled voice under the covers said.

A few moments of silence passed as she dazedly listened to the rushed voice on the other end.

“Thank you for informing us, we’ll be in touch”

As soon as the call ended Harriet launched out of the bed flinging the covers off her nude body.

“Shit fuck shit!”

Con lay exposed under the tossed over covers naked in Harri’s bed awoken by the immediate sense of immediacy.

“What is it?”

“Banville’s been murdered in the fucking interrogation room! Mirra got away in his car, he could be in the next fucking state by now!” Harri spoke as she faced away from him quickly putting on a bra and panties that were tossed out the front of the bed. She sprang for the cupboard’s and started to dress as fast as humanly possible.

“So what now?” Con lay struck in her bed.

“Get dressed”

“We need to slow down and think this through. We have no idea where’s he’s going. There’s gotta be an APB already out on Banville’s car, they’ll turn him up.”

“Get dressed!”

“And go where?”

Harri took in a harsh rasping breath and looked at the floor, she tensed her jaw and her eyes got moist. “This is my fault”. She paused and heaved a few more long wet breathes. “I opened his cuffs, I was too fucking caught up in all this hoodoo voodoo spooky bullshit and now someone is dead because of me! Because I forgot to lock a pair of fucking cuffs”

“This is not your fault. We need to be smart, what do you wanna do just barrel out the door and follow the sirens? You think he left us a trail of breadcrumbs?”

Harri was quiet for a moment. She closed her eyes and a few nervous tears leaked out as she stood looking a mess with her clothes hastily assembled. Buttons skew and her skirt on backwards.

An hour later she was changed into a dressing gown. Her hair pinned back sitting on the bed, her back against the back board. Calm after a steady application of coffee. A laptop on her knees as she checked Mirra’s bank records they’d had subpoenaed the moment he was taken into custody.

Con sat at the writing desk with a pair of pyjama bottoms on with no top checking flights in and out of the state and any activity in Mirra’s credit cards.

“Anything?” Harri said without looking up.

“Not much, you?”

“I have something, two flights purchased on his credit card. Two seats premium economy to Sacramento, he paid for a room in some motel down there.”

“Doesn’t seem like much”

“Not on its own” Harri looked up scornful. But then there’s a return journey with only one seat booked.”

“So you think he planned a little vacation and then what? Maybe she got sick and had to take the bus back, maybe they had a fight and he left her there? It doesn’t explain how he could kill her there, if that’s what you’re suggesting and get the body back”

“These days’ airlines weigh and record the weight of your luggage so they can charge you more, especially with budget airlines. His luggage going coming back was almost ninety pounds heavier”

“That’s a lot of souvenirs. It’s a cute theory but it could be anything. Maybe he was picking something up from craigslist, a ninety-pound paperweight.” He looked back and gave her a silly grin. “Doesn’t the airport have sniffer dogs?”

She gave him a narrow eyed look and chupsed. “They do” She paused and exhaled as she looked down at her laptop “For bombs” She took a sip of her coffee. “She’s not a bomb”.

Green Sunday Chapter 17 ‘Fatal Hesitation’

Hey there,

Back again for some of that theatrical writterly shit haha.

Ok right off the bat if anyone complains that I’m not crediting the cosplayer for my header image, you can just blow me because you can’t copyright ass and titties ok haha. Cosplay is cancer anyway and I fucking forgot where I got this picture from. Fuck cosplay ok haha.

So what’s new? Barreling ahead with the sequel for GS for a start, I’m almost amazed by how insane it is. Like I’m almost afraid to edit it, because it’s just like the ravings of a lunatic and I love it. I’m afraid to change it.

But in other news, signed that contract so now I’m working on the cover in tandom with Muddy Boots and we’ll have a launch date soon enough, which is cool.

I do this horrible thing where I look back on my work to try and see what it is I’ve done and right now all I have to my name is this dumb fun zombie book haha. Like all the standalone stuff is kinda ethereal at this point, it’s not there yet, it’s kinda scattered so this is really the only thing I can sink my teeth into and that sort of makes me miserable haha. But what’s good about it is it forces me to move forward in my head with the other planned series’ I have namely the Dexter homage and the weird ass fantasy series I was planning both nameless at this minute in time haha.

I think I’m ready for that, it’s weird, it’s not that I think I’m not good enough to write them, it’s like I don’t want to binge on them. I don’t want to have too much fun all at once and have nothing left at the end. I like pacing myself, writing some slock in between, like eating your vegetables before you get to desert. But I just couldn’t contain myself when it came to the sequel for GS. I was either going to rush the slock filler novella I was writing or I just had to drop it like I did and move onto a project that was more fun and just inherently immediately necessary.

This is not a job, its all passion but sometimes passions have to be measured. It’s easy to abstain, easier to binge, its hard to be balanced and think about every move you make because each step is another step closer to the grave.

Cheery motherfucker I am haha.

Anyway, wanna thank all the people signing up to my mailing list and all the people who have taken review copies and are letting me know what you think on the daily, its fantastic to hear. Mailing list will be in triple digits soon, its looking good. Love life is still in the toilet haha, but you can’t have everything all I can do is complain, its not like I’ve been looking or would even know what to do with a woman right now if I caught one haha.

Enough of that jive, got a chapter for reasons, why not? This is one of the last times this is gonna be free haha. So heres fatal hesitation, enjoy and peace out.

Fatal Hesitation

~

Pete’s fingers fidgeted, fumbling for the large knife in the decorative sheath on his hip as Dave lumbered towards him, scratching and mumbling unintelligibly.

“Itchy-scratchy…itchy.”

“This isn’t right.” Pete drew the twelve-inch blade, it seemed to take longer than he remembered “That caant said it wasn’t contagious; we’re s’posed to be immune!”

Dave stumbled forward, as if pulled at the hip by a lasso. His joints locked and released seemingly beyond his control.

“You’re alright, lad. We’ll get you looked at. Just sit down,” Pete said calmly as he slowly raised the kukri to chest height.

Dave stumbled again, then his whole body curled as if his spine were made of a Slinky. Without warning he lunged at Pete.

Pete swung, missing one beat and sinking the large knife into Dave’s shoulder. It went about six inches into meat and bone and got stuck. “FACK!” Pete screeched as he tried to push and pull the big knife out of Dave’s shoulder. Dave was unaffected; the wound didn’t even bleed, just oozed a strange, black ichor. Dave scrabbled all over Pete like an insect on its back. His fingers were all over his face and in Pete’s mouth as he pushed him to the lip of the gun store roof.

Pete reeled backwards, forcing Dave’s hand out of his face. Dave fell over him like a wave: no self-awareness, no thought, just a tidal wave of primal hunger, washing over Pete as he was swept closer to the edge of the roof.

Pete let go of the knife. He took a split second to look at the drop from the roof to the street below. It wasn’t that high. The building was just one storey; he could survive a drop. He scanned left and right, looking for something to use as a weapon. Time slowed and it took him forever just to turn his head. He looked to his left: nothing but a pile of MRE wrappers and a bed roll. To his right, his air bow. He snatched it up and locked it into his shoulder, pulling the trigger to an exasperated hissing sound.

The bolt rebounded in a dull ricochet off Dave’s jaw, leaving a ragged rip across his face. His lower jaw lost tension and fell open like a snake’s. “FACK!” Pete scrabbled for his quiver of bolts, knocking it over. Shiny black bolts spilt out all over the roof. “FAAAACCK!”

 

0

TOTCB – Chapter 5 ‘Stranger than kindness’

Bonjourno, mi amigos. Probably butchering that, how many languages was that? I dunno, fuck I’m so talented, all that multi-lingual stuff haha. Yes I’m joking, no I’m not that narcissistic, pretty close though.

Ok so what’s new?
Not much, just being doing the day job thing as of late, picked up an addiction to Gwent (Google it). May get fired for playing it at work, well that would solve that problem wouldn’t it haha.

I got some writing done after a snaffoo with some of my software. But it’s all hunky dory now and I’m away, and honestly, I’m having too much fucking fun writing this book, honestly, wtf? Why is it this fun to write this much nonsense. It’s like writing it is reading it for the first time because I have like the outline and the characters but I don’t really know how it’ll take shape other than that. I don’t know how the characters are going to interact, or what they’re going to say or how they’ll act, what they’ll do or how they’ll do it.
It’s all flowing out of me like a stream of consciousness, like I type it and there it is. Like it’s not even coming from me and its fun. I’m really enjoying how it’s taking shape, it’s like a puzzle slotting into place and the nature of the book itself is fun. It’s almost like a portmanteau movie with all these different characters, different worlds colliding.

Yeah so that’s it, just really enjoying it, can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing yet but fuck it, better than writing some miserable crap that makes me want to hang myself haha.

Remember if you want a free review copy of the first book, hit me up on twitter or facebook and if you’re on my mailing list you get a free ebook just for joining.

Peace out people.

Oh yeah also here’s a chapter of my last book that everyone seems to hate haha fucking nano, yes I am blaming you haha.

Stranger than kindness

~

On the plane Johnny seemed nervous and Peggy could tell, but she couldn’t think of any reason why he would be. To her this was the end, this was what she wanted, he was home.

She turned to him as the plane slowed to a crawl, putting her hand on his and she said “Are you ready to go home Johnny?”

Johnny didn’t react at first, as if hearing his own name was so foreign to him. He could hardly believe where he was, what he chose, there was no going back now.

He smiled and nodded.

They got off the plane and there reporters with cameras waiting for him asking him questions he didn’t answer. They just pushed past them into the arrivals lounge and they didn’t follow them.

She held his hand, he was shy and she suddenly felt a shard of ice hit her heart and she thought what it might be.

She turned to him and looked at him and he looked away.

“Johnny, are you afraid Momma’s not gonna love you anymore or something?”

He didn’t say anything, he mouthed something and furrowed his brow.

“You don’t need to worry, you’re home now. We’ve missed you, we’ve all missed you, but it’s going to be ok now, I promise”

She lead him out of the arrivals area and through passport control and to get their luggage. He didn’t have much but that one backpack and the clothes on his back.

What if there was something wrong with him? What if he’d never get better, what if the Johnny she knew was gone, never to return.

She shook off those feelings and lead him out to the parking lot.

Still he was nervous, he couldn’t stop moving. Bouncing around almost, going to the bathroom a lot and watching people and watching Peggy. He was always watching her for some reason. Trying to pick up cues from her. Like he’d forgotten how to be him and somehow watching her would help him remember who he was.

Who he was dependent on her expectation at this point.

Peggy’s husband Brandon with his camcorder. Their son Carl and daughter Sarah. Johnny and Peggy’s mother Angela had all loaded up in Carl’s Lincoln to go get Johnny and his sister.

They waited at the end of a long tiled windowless hallway. It was white with white rails along the side, slightly bluing tiles stuck on the walls. Brandon started filming as he saw people passing them by. Lots of people, young, old, fat, skinny, men and women but none of them were Peggy and Johnny.

More and more people passed, more people than seemed possible. With each passing it seemed less and less likely that they would come out. For a moment it seemed like a bad dream, they’d lost one child and sent another to find him only to lose that one too. The big bad world just swallowed them up. With each passing stranger their hearts sank.

Until finally Peggy emerged carrying her one duffel bag, she looked warn out but happy. Her hair was a messy, probably from sleeping on it. She wore a t-shirt and jeans, her face looked content like she’d just been around the world and seen all seven wonders in one shot. She saw her family waiting their huddled together. Anxious, excited, a little fear there, fear of the unknown.

They were the only ones left, the last off the plane.

~

0

GREEN SUNDAY Chapter 16 ‘Kill Too Hard’

Hello again my dedicated stalkers, all the handful of you haha.

Back again with more of that good literary shit.
Had a few people take me up on the review copy shenanigans since yesterday, gonna keep rolling out that train today with some shameless spamming.

Oh yeah almost forgot, got an update on the cover, realising now as I’m writing this and remembering it in real time I’m going to make it the header image to this very blog haha. So now that you’ve looked up at the image you undoubtedly clicked to get you on this page, pray tell what do you think. That’s real art folks, not some copy pasted clip art shit done on photoshop, that’s real paint with real brush strokes from a genuine artist. Original artwork paid for by yours truly haha.
I think it’s turned out really great, sort of cartoony but it captures the grindhouse feel I wanted, getting hyped about launch now and not so much feeling the crushing doubt that’s been gripping me for the past couple of weeks in which I’ve sworn never to do nano again haha.
Why you ask? Because it, yes not me, ruined what could have been a career affirming life changing book for me. After getting completely shit on for The one that came back in the reviews the consensus seems to be it’s kind of boring and I blame myself for rushing it to fit into the nano time frame. Or in other words I blame nano haha.
But joking aside, I’m just gonna have to shell out of the nose to have it properly content edited, I’m sure its salveagable, it’s just gonna take a lot of time/money/effort, things I seem to have in great abundance these days for whatever reason (pact with cthulhu).

Ok moving on, still giving away free e-copies of my novella which wasn’t rushed and is really fucking good btw haha. And I’m still giving out review copies of Green Sunday, so get some of those and if you join my mailing list and let me know you want a review copy you will be getting two free ebooks for only the price of your soul and maybe a toe. A small toe.

If you want a review copy just message me on twitter  or facebook or minds through my contact page.

Ok here’s chapter 16 ‘Kill Too Hard‘ for your reviewing pleasure haha.

See you space gender non-conforming squid people.

~

On a ratty-looking desk, an old-fashioned touch-tone phone rang.

The small, messy office filled with the tinny analogue ringing sound.

Mojang clung to the grenade launcher, the wooden sawn-off stock poking his ribs. He ducked behind the desk, taking the small phone with him.

He took the receiver out of the cradle with a plastic clicking sound. He pressed it to his greasy-looking ear.

“Hey, boss!” A cheery voice chirped.

“Bernie, you double crossing pinche puto!”

“Come on, it’s not just me.”

“What are you talking about, you fat, lousy fuck?” Mojang spat into the receiver.

“It’s the fans, man.”

“The fans?”

“They’re bored, Mo. We’re winning too much. We make it look easy. There’s no drama, no suspense. Long story short, they’re replacing you.”

“What the fuck? With who?”

“Ahem.”

“You? Your fat ass is replacing me? No way! Put me through to the top guy. There’s no way they can do this. This is our last game. We’re out. We’re clean. They promised- “

“Sorry, Mo, this comes from the top. Our approval ratings are tanking. They thought they needed to shake things up.”

“No, you motherfucker, you put him on no- “

Click.

The phone went dead. Mojang bit down on the receiver. Snapping it in half over the desk, he threw the rest of the phone to the floor.

He cracked open the grenade launcher and saw there was a hot grenade still in the chamber. He clapped it closed and stiffened his lip. “Fffuck!” He threw the heavy grenade launcher across the desk and hurried over to the window. Barred, it was covered in a heavy mesh, impossible to remove. There was no way he was getting out. He clanged the cage mesh, looking like a kid in a playpen. His face welled up with sweat and nervous tears. “FUCK ME! FUCK ME!”

A clatter outside hushed him. He ducked behind his desk again. He scrabbled for the grenade launcher on the desk.

“No, please, no. I’ll suck dick. I’ll suck your dick,” a muffled woman’s voice said from behind his door. An angry banging. “FUCK, MOJANG! LET ME IN, YOU LIMP DICK MOTHERFUCKER!”

The noise quickly stopped after a brief gurgling sound. An ominous silence fell on the garage, not a croak or a death rattle to be heard. All the blood was already on the floor.

Then a dull banging noise started against the thin door, accompanied by stifled whimpering noises. The noises got quieter as the dull banging got wetter. Each bang was accompanied by sloppy slapping noises.

The pathetic bolt lock popped off. The screws popped out and rolled on the concrete floor. The door swung open on just one hinge.

Mojang peeked over the desk and saw the doorway was empty. The flimsy door itself was plastered in blood and brain matter and there was a big crack down the centre. Strands of long hair stuck out of it.

Mojang recoiled as a mass was slung hard across the desk, like a deer hitting the hood of an SUV. His face was splattered with blood and brains. The girl’s limp limbs twisted in every direction. Her head had caved in. Using it to open a door would do that.

Mojang winced. He used the barrel of the grenade launcher to turn her face around, and his other hand to move her hair aside. Her eyes were half open; they rolled loosely around in her head like dolls’ eyes. He swallowed and closed them, feeling bad for a minute before he remembered he had locked her out.

The lancer stepped inside. His feet made a metal stiletto sound. They were covered in skin -tight metal sandals. On the concrete floor, they sounded like tap shoes or a dog with long nails on a hardwood floor.

“We can talk about this. I’ve brought in a lot of business. We’re the best. We win. We can do better. Fuck, man, we can do whatever you want. I’ll learn to fucking juggle if that’s what you wa- “

“Sorry, you’re cancelled,” the lancer said, a cold chill riding his words all the way down Mojang’s spine.

Mojang fingered the grenade launcher, with its wood inlays, as he looked at the girl sprawled across his desk like a tiger skin rug.

He took a deep breath and scrunched up his face, ringing out vicious tears from his one good eye.

“Fffuck you, silver surfing faggot!” He lifted the grenade launcher and turned his body so he was pointing it at the lancer, with one arm outstretched. His face twisted into his death mask: what would be left of it.

The lancer let out a breathy laugh and gave a wicked smile with those strange eyes. He dropped into a pounce and closed the gap between them with murderous intention.

Mojang fell back, his heart leaping to meet the challenge. He stumbled over a broken phone cord. His finger squeezed the trigger and he proceeded to make an even stupider face.

The building popped open like a giant soda can. The sheet metal peeled back and curled up, licked by flames. The explosion was viewed by an indifferent drone flying overhead, the flames reflected in its ambivalent lens.

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FREE review copies GREEN SUNDAY

Howdy folks, it’s come time for me to ask you, my meagre audience to give something back in the form of words and time, of course not money, who could have a use for any of that junk right? We’ve all converted to photosynthesis at this point or died a paupers death buried an inch deep in potter’s field.

Just looking for some launch day reviews, that’s all, not your souls, not your first born child, I mean I’ll take them, I won’t be rude, I don’t really know what I’ll do with them but I won’t stop you.

Just waiting on the cover to be finalized and we should be launching the book next month, gonna be on a few podcasts in the mean time just to shoot the shit and verbally shill.

Oh and good news, I got bored last week and I was sick of writing that story about the serial killer art contest in a panopticon, it was kinda just dragging me down. I needed to write something light and fun so I started writing book of Green Sunday and it’s cheered my up already. It’s just so much fun to write, it’s like a break from all the shit of the world just to write something this fucking fun and crazy, it’s liberating.

Anyway as usual gonna post just a quick excerpt from an edited chapter for reasons and you can look at that and I’ll provide links to it on inkitt so you can read it in full there but shit if you want to get a free pdf copy all you need to do is message me and I’ll fucking send you one for free so you don’t have to bother with this inkitt shit.

Hit me up on twitter or minds @CallMeRyk if you want a copy.

 

5

TOTCB Chapter 4 ‘Brother my Cup is Empty’

Sup people,

Ok so news news news, the cover is almost done as you can see in the last post. Been really busy just spamming the free ebook which is cool, the subs to my mailing list are growing slowly but surely. Got a few podcast appearances lined up so hopefully that’ll help get me more subs/clicks/happythoughts.

I was thinking of giving away some early review copies of Green Sunday so I can have some reviews on release day, not sure how I’ll go about that.

I’m gonna be wrapping up what I was writing recently and I think it’s time to barrel ahead with book two of GS. Seeing some advice online, it seems best to get cracking on the series, strike while the iron is hot and keeping going til I run out of steam and then hopscotch to another series. Which is great news for me, because I kept giving myself excuses why it wasn’t right to start all the while chomping at the bit to do exactly that.

The free ebook is ready and it’ll be virtually shipping at the end of the month, what else?
No I think that’s it, oh no yeah, still going ahead with The one that came back as a standalone. Series’ apparently make more money but I still want to get traditionally published for a standalone title. I’m not ready as of yet to religate myself to permanent indie author status.

In the words of the immutable Kanye West; “You reach for the stars, if you fall you land on a cloud”. Or something like that.

Anyway here’s the next chapter , you can find it on inkitt of course with this link. Probably having this edited soon too before I start pitching it.

Brother my cup is empty

~

It was early, downtown Austin was quiet and heating up slow.

A red dodge pick up pulled up outside an irish pub on 204 east sixth street. The sign on the side was a picture of two merry Irishmen leaning on eachother and it read ‘The Gingerman’.

It was a grand old building. Three stories tall with a couple of red birch trees sticking out of the sidewalk out front. White stone in long columns that looked like it came straight off of mount Olympus. Tall brown doors. The floors above were apartments with tall thin windows that made for high ceilings but not a lot else. It was penned in by an Italian restaurant called ‘Gino’s’ on the right and some kind of science centre for kids on the left. A weird place to put it since almost the entire strip was just littered with dives and billiard halls.

Porter parked deliberately too close to a red striped mini cooper that was parked outside. He got out and went inside.

He passed over the tiled entrance. Passing framed adverts for Paddy’s irish whiskey and Cork Distilleries. Harkening back to some grand irish renaissance in the fifties, or something like that. It was kitch and it made him sick. He stopped to put his keys back in his pocket. He lifted his eyes to the Notre Dame sign with the fighting irish leprechaun. It was facing out hanging from an antique cabinet Patrick had decided to put right in the entrance for some reason. He shook his head and went into the pub proper.

The smell of dried cork and wood soaked in whiskey hit him as soon as he got inside. Real wood, real old wood. It was a classic irish pub with all that comes with that. Small round wooden tables with small round wooden stools that were as uncomfortable as they looked dotted very little floor space.

There were some square tables in the corner which had chairs with backs and cushions for when this place pretended to be a restaurant. Which usually involved Patrick grilling something that was once alive.

The walls were a warm orange and of course were covered with classic Guinness adverts and memorabilia of all sorts. Anything vaguely irish, leprachauns and whiskey were a key theme. There was space for one Texas flag that just had a silhouette of a steers head on it and the word ‘Texas’.

There were old black and white portraits of irish writers and musicians. There were shelves decorated with little kitch porcelain figures and old clocks. Dusty books, violins, ships anchors and mini ship wheels.

The bar was long and mahogany and was so shiney it almost glowed in the texas morning cast off. It curved around and went down almost the entire length of the bar but was sectioned off into little mini bars catering to different drinks. It was all tiled around the first foot out from the bar, the rest of the floor was wood, the same colour as the bar. Porter took a seat on the end at the elbow of the bar and grazed the bar with his eyes. Passing over more Guinness signs. A four leaf clover drawn on a chalk board with their specials until he reached the flat screen tv that hung at a jaunty angle on the corner of the bar.

It was a snooker game.

“Top’o the mornin’ to yah, what can I do’ya fer? A man with strawberry blond hair entered the corner of his eye as he tried to follow the snooker.

“Any calls?”

~

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