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return of the living dead

GS2 Chapter 8 ‘Five Fingers of Death’

Yo,

Gonna keep this short and sweet because I’ve been sending out querys to literary agents all day and I have some leftover fajitas I made calling my name. So quick updates, moving forward a little bit prematurely with The One Who Came Back. I don’t really know what I hope to achieve because I’m really that sure of it and I only have three chapters edited so far and trying to rush my editor seems to be in vein, I’m considering hiring someone else but I’m sort of broke and I can’t find anyone cheaper and she’s a really nice person, I don’t feel like an asshole giving money to.

This is sort of a dry tun I guess for Diana, just scoping out the thriller lit agents, seeding the ground before I unleash that insanity on them. Got all my women centric ones bookmarked because they might get a kick out of a female Dexter, I know I did ha.

Not that it really matters but honestly, have you ever googled literary agents? Like literally 90% of them are women, maybe even more so, it’s ridiculous and the amount that are looking for ‘women centric stories’ or just ‘women’s fiction’ is astonishing and you wonder why so many of the big authors this decade are women *Hmm emoji* haha.

Ranting aside, I’m edging my way out of the completionist funk, just by doing something and hopefully tomorrow I can throw myself into a new project just to get the gears spinning again.

That’s enough for now.

See you…

Five Fingers of Death

Bobby rummaged around in a large key bang as he entered the station’s jail muttering to himself in the near darknessOnly the orange emergency lights giving off an anaemic glow that lit nothing except the hands in front of his face.

“This is the last straw, he’s lost his fucking mind, fuck. First he’s making me bury bodies in the back lot, now he’s shooting people right in the office, he’s losing it, this is it, this is it!” He panted and took in disjointed slakes of breathes like he was having a panic attack. “Gotta, gotta let you guys out, gotta get out, gotta let you and we can leave this fucking mess!” He screeched.

The back of the cells were in complete darkness. He got closer, the hot nervousness in the back of his throat made his fingers and thumbs thick square blocks of dull round weiner meat. Which made finding the right key near impossible. The jangling of the key bang summoning fits of excited hackles from something akin to a dog.

A shadowed figure uncoiled, a dank smell and a quick fluttering of what seemed like wings and the voice. A hot stinking breath that smelled like raw potatoes and meat said right by his ear “Maybe I wanna be in here.” The voice said. Breath was hot and wet and burning like raw onions on the deputies face. He jumped back, tripping over his own feet and tumbling, the back of his head trying to make out with the corner of a metal desk not ending well.

He lay on the floor twitching, blood and brains spreading like hot homemade jam.

“Oops” Carpenter said as he slipped back away from the bars with a slithering sqeaking noise as his arms retracted into the dark cell.

Green Sunday Audiobook out now!

Das riiitte! Your favourite tongue in cheek ultra-violent rom/zom/com is now an audiobook, caloo calay and I even have free promo codes and sheiiiittt to give out. First come first serve, don’t all shout out at once.

I really do like the voice talent they got, it’s pretty funny, hope you all enjoy it.

See you…

US link

UK link

Below are the codes and instructions on how to redeem them redeem away!

1. Go to my book’s page on Audible.co.uk:[www.audible.co.uk/pd/B074F2NGF7]
2. Add the audiobook to your cart.
3. Log in, or create a new Audible.com account.
4. Enter the promo code (  ) and click “Redeem” on the cart page.
5. To change the price from full price to $0.00, click the box next to “1 Credit” and click the “update” button to apply the credit to your purchase.
6. Complete checkout, and start listening to the free copy of the book.

Audible UK codes:

P8YQJX227S7PC
5JNTXZTNHBCTS
7L3WK83GMEESL
7AHUL5JNBW8CD
LARM5N5EW5W5K
R7T2AS4N9H6UG
LXKCF9FBQ9EYJ
EBZTGRS4EEAAA
4KSX7NAWQFN2L
Z6UYBBZC88HZS
CLLN64CGYSD7J
WFRGZ9B8BLGUA
RZUEJDL8SBFDW
KBYW2T98E68KK
BW8ZQBTRZAQ2C

Audible.com.

1. Go to my book’s page on Audible.com: [www.audible.com/pd/B074F3SH97]
2. Add the audiobook to your cart.
3. Log in, or create a new Audible.com account.
4. Enter the promo code (  ) and click “Redeem” on the cart page.
5. To change the price from full price to $0.00, click the box next to “1 Credit” and click the “update” button to apply the credit to your purchase.
6. Complete checkout, and start listening to the free copy of the book.

Audible.com codes:

C6KP6WFW4NAHY
ZE6KB59PLXKTJ
FHW7LZAD9U3EY
J83DXW7PPZ8U9
KB2W9JPBLJ9GA

GS 2 Chapter 5 ‘Graveyard Chamber’

Hey der, girls and boys.

Err not much to speak of this week, been really busy as you can expect for someone who is a professional waistrel. Mainly been out of commission due to life getting in the way or this fucking chipper whether. If only I lived in a damp drafty castle I wouldn’t have to worry about getting dehydration headaches, maybe just gout or scurvy or something.

Been hard at work with the old serial killer book, lots of fun. Doing some savage ass reviews. My fucks have well and truly given out when it comes to inkitt stories. I’m just so fucking sick of reading romance and erotica novels, jesus christ!

Anyway, the new book is going great, having a lot of fun with, like a kid in a freaking candy store, still zucced so no facebook but hey they just buffed my favourite deck in Gwent so now I’m unstoppable haha. Which is good cos I still suck at friday the 13th despite paying full price for a game with only one mode that’s full of noisey twelve year olds who are ten times better than you.

So, you know, the usual, I’d complain but who would listen haha?

Also I went on another really cool zombie podcast called Zombie Anonymous and honestly, not shitting on the other podcasts I went on but this was the most laid back and fun I thought. Don’t get me wrong, those other podcasts were great but I really got to verbally shit post in this one and had some fun talking about the second book and it seemed to go down well. Eh maybe it was just me.

Anywho, without further waffling here is the next chapter for your eyeballing pleasure.

Hyperlink below to the full thing as per.

Graveyard Chamber 

“I think we should be heading back to the convention centre now Mr Fuzzles, it’s getting dark, the streets aren’t safe.” Sparkles said in her sweet high pitch Saturday morning cartoon character voice.

 

“Ok sparkles, let’s walk back together, it’s not too far and it’s a shaping up to be a beautiful night.” He smiled with his voice and cocked his arm for her to loop her hoof in the crook of it.

 

The sun was on it’s last legs now. Only a tinge of orange left in the dark blue sky drawn over the winter wonderland. Bovarian style houses and storefronts dusted with pure white snow. The cars passing petering out as everyone sought shelter in their homes or strip clubs. The wind was picking up and it was bone bitingly cold.

 

“Freaks!” “Stay in the circus!” A guy in a trucker cap said as he sped past in a red pickup.

 

“Do you think they were talking to us?” Sparkles said coyly.

 

“No, I don’t think so” Mr Fuzzles said as he shrugged cartoonishly. “Let’s head back to the convention centre before it gets too dark.” He said tugging at her white hoof. Out of nowhere a big gulp cup tossed from a passing car hit him in the stomach spreading an almost luminous blue slush over the white part of his costume.

 

Mr Fuzzles padded the growing blue stain on his purple costume and looked up at the car speeding away and said “Eh hey sorry, you spilt your drink, I guess”.

 

“Come on Mr Fuzzles we’ll get you cleaned up back at the centre” Sparkle said tugging at his fuzzy purple arm.

 

“Ok” He said.

 

They started walking back. A little bounce in their step as they retraced their route which was pretty much a straight line from the centre along the main road out of town. The main high street was lined with touristy shops and diners. They hadn’t strayed too far so before they knew it they were in front of the familiar centre again. Oddly though it seemed a lot quieter and there didn’t seem to be that many lights on.

 

Mr Fuzzles tried the front entrance of the convention hall tugging at it, it rattled but wouldn’t open. “That’s weird” He said.

 

“Is it locked?”

 

“I guess”.

 

“What’s that smell?” Sparkles said swiping the air theatrically.

 

Mr Fuzzles cupped his hands and tried to look through the glass doors but couldn’t see much, it was dark inside.

 

“What can you see?” Sparkles brushing up against him.

 

“Erm, everyone’s lying down I think?” He said blushing.

 

“They all went to sleep on the floor?” She rose up in a cartoony shocked gesture.

 

“I dunno”. He shrugged.

 

“Well wake them up, I’m not sleeping out here, it’s too cold for a unicorn.” She said shaking Fuzzles shoulders.

 

“Hey let us in! Wake up!” The giant purple cat said as he batted the glass door with his soft paw. He pressed up against the door and started to shake it to see if he could force it open, straining. It started to give way with some effort and he breathed a sigh of relief wiping his furry brow. He hadn’t budged the door much, it was still really dark inside and there was no movement. The space in the door was maybe a couple of inches wide and that smell was even stronger leaking out.

 

He looked over at Sparkles and she seemed to be upset, her hooves up on her hips.

 

“Well?” She said.

 

He went back to the door, and started to push it more “It’s stuck on something” He strained. With great effort, huffing and puffing and probably a gallon of sweat soaking into his costume. He opened up a gap large enough for them to squeeze through

 

He took a step back to pant and put his paws on his hips waiting for a round of applause or a kiss or something. Turning triumphantly to Sparkles who was looking inside cautiously.

 

“Well?” She said standing over him.

 

“Uhh?” He said catching his breathe bent over with his hands on his knees.

 

“Are you going in?” She said in her little voice.

 

“I dunno Sparkles, it’s kind of dark, what if I fall, I don’t know where the light switches are, I might get lost. I think we should just go.” Sparkles was hoofing around in her little sparkly purse as Fuzzles rambled to himself.

 

“Here” She said as she hoofed him a small pen torch. “I’m not sleeping in my car in this weather.”

 

“Err thanks.” Fuzzles said.

 

“Always be prepared” She said as she posed cockily.

 

“Errr” He said stalling.

 

“So, go on, I’ll be right behind you, you’ll be my shining kitty in furry armor” She said getting a little excited. “If we stay out here we’ll freeze to death for sure.”

 

“O-k” He said confidently, his chest swelling with bravado.

 

He clicked the torch on and started probing the dank heavy dark of the convention centre.

 

The small torch poked at the darkness, showing them little more than a peepshow of nothing much but an empty room with eggshell white walls.

 

“Lets go, I’m cold” Sparkles whined and bounced up and down behind the back of her Kitty in shining armour.

 

“Ok” He swallowed loudly as he started to push through the small gap in the door of the convention centre.

 

He forced his way through, popping out on the other side a slight ripping noise cutting the silence of the musty room.

 

“Oh crap” Mr Fuzzles said.

 

“What is it?” Sparkles said as she followed gracefully behind popping through the door with a practiced wiggle.

 

“I ripped my costume” Fuzzles said as he looked down the torch clutched in his fuzzy mitt. He probed the cut with the light and tutted. “I need to get to the sewing kit in my room” He said dejected.

 

“Err Mr Fuzzles?”

 

“Yeah, what is it?”

 

“Are you touching me right now?”

 

“No”

 

“Oh ok, erm…”

 

 

GS2 Chapter 4 ‘Any given Sunday’

Holy shit, I don’t know what to say really. I’ve spent the last four days writing the first book in my new series and I’m sort of ‘shook’. I got in front of it and I sort of felt dread at first. Like it’s easy to just shit this silly zombie stuff, it’s so tongue in cheek and loose and clearly just for fun and monies. But this was different, this was the real deal, real blood sweat and tears and soul pouring and all that stuff. Real effortposting. It was serious and life affirming, this could be my greatest work to date. Perfectly bringing together the humour I’m sort of known for now but with this dark and bitter bite to it that keeps people coming back for more.

Needless to say I really enjoyed writing it, I felt a little overwhelmed but I think it sounds almost perfect, like Dexter reborn anew. I’m not going to say it’s the same or as good but I feel small in comparison, like I know the basic plot points but I’m the most anxious of all to see where it takes me. It’s unknown territory and I think it’s going really well, I would die for some feedback but it’s a bit too soon for that. I’ve been taking my time with it but I’ve sort of conditioned myself to keep up the 2k word limit, it’s just about giving yourself ample time and breaks to let it come out as naturally as possible in any given amount of time.

I’ll put up the first chapter next week probably and fuck it, I’ll probably put it on inkitt just to beta the first chapter because I’m so excited about it. It’s the dawn of a new era.

Oh yeah back to GS2 and does Sunday make an appearance? Find out for yourself why don’t you in chapter 4. 

Any Given Sunday

You know the drill, excerpt below, full chapter over on inkitt for free, for now haha.

See you.

~

TJ stumbled back through the cluttered store, taking in heady gulps of musty leather smell and dusty blued metals from the old helmets and gear. He delicately probed the bump on the back of his neck, a confused babe in the woods look on his face as he got closer to the counter.

The old man hadn’t moved and he looked like a waxwork in a some morbid museum of people not doing much. His feet up on his desk taking wheezing laboured breathes as he stared at a dog eared issue of guns and bullets.

TJ felt a little light headed, out of breath, he felt in a lot of ways like he just woke up. Which is closer to the truth than he’d like. So much ‘stuff’ had been going on he just got swept a long and didn’t think about food or sleep or any basic processes like that. Where had he been, how long had he been asleep? The mugginess was catching up to him, a ringing in his head, a dry pain behind the eyes, the coming nausea of a pressure headache.

He reached the counter and through a series of short pained breathes he said “Hey old man.” He squeezed his eyes shut and put his palm flat over one eye and breathed out.

The old man responded with a rustling of laminated paper and TJ took that as a sign to go on.

“You seen any girls around erm?” He said trailing off, not sure how that sounded.

The old man peeled down a corner of his of magazine and stared glassy eyed at TJ with an eyebrow raised. He put the corner back and went back to pretending TJ was an elaborate effort of taxidermy.

TJ cleared his throat and leaned in a little closer. “I’m looking for a girl with green hair, has she come through here?”

“Green hair?” The old man said without moving, a rye rise of an octave in his voice. “Hmm.” He russled his magazine again and said “She came in just after you, she’s over by the archery surplies and hunting gear, can’t miss her.” He laughed and went back to being a waxwork,

TJ instantly felt hot, she was here the whole time, he swallowed and felt it burn going down. He was cold and he could feel it on his arms inside his coat and on the back of his neck. He froze and then like a mechanical toy started to turn his head. Failing to look subtle he turned his whole torso over towards the right side of the store. Rebel and American flags lined the walls. Racked up were various bows and cheap looking crossbows. Life size deer targets hanging from the ceiling like polystyrene trophies looking at nothing.

Standing there was a person in a large puffy pink winter coat, a bob of short green hair poked over the top of a high collar. She looked like she was shouldering a crossbow, trying to feel the weight. The store was pretty much empty. TJ couldn’t see Jimmy anymore and it seemed like there were a few stragglers milling around browsing memorabilia.

His legs shook as they probed the floor. The felt and moved like they were connected by puppet strings, floating shakily above the ground. Pulling TJ along like he was magnetized.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her back and as he got closer it was if his eyes got tunnel vision, shrinking back into his skull. The closer he got the further his eyes reeled back in his skull. Until finally like they were on elastic they snapped back and he was a too close, depth perception completely out the window he almost fell on her. He shifted a little too much weight and bumped into her gently. He could smell a sickly sweet smell and then and he got a mouth full of goose down elbow hitting him in the mouth as she turned around suddenly. The winter fabric scraping against his teeth. Hitting him with a dull thud flat in the centre of his face knocking him off balance and filling his eyes with tears.

She didn’t react right away, until he said “Oh, err, sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Didn’t mean to what?” A nasaly voice said. The girl in the large coat turned around and TJ caught his breath, readying his mind and heart to see a ghost in the flesh.

…There was a lot of flesh, a lot more flesh than he remembered, in fact.

“Are you, Sunday?”

~

Ok fuck it, GS2 Chapter 3 ‘Heroes of the Wild’

Ok enough with that sappy, life falling apart bullshit, we’re getting that out of the way, I’m getting out of my own way (I don’t know what that means, it just sounds good) and getting down to some real work here.

So here we go, another unedited, untested, raw chapter of Green Sunday part 2, for your viewing pleasure.

Also shit yeah, lots of updates, already I have cover sketches and shit, and they look awesome and yes they’re going to be at the bottom of this blog, actually no, I changed my mind, I’ll post them tomorrow. 

I was just thinking this would be too packed, with the chapter and the cover stuff and I could stretch it to two blogs instead haha.

Just the chapter now, we’ll do the art tomorrow, sound good? I thought so.

So here it is, chapter 3, (it says 4, there was a prologue, they don’t count.)

Link to the full chapter as always below.

Heroes of the wild

 

“Hi, I’m err, Mr Fuzzles.” Fuzzles the purple cat swallowed hard. His throat was dry, palms sweaty, mom’s spaghetti, riding low in his lower intestine, making him feel a little bloated. “Err what’s your name?”

The unicorn girl turned around and said in a sweet voice “My name is Sparkles, nice to meet you.”

“Hi, err, I was wondering if you’d like to, go for a walk with me?” Fuzzles said scratching the back of his big purple head as he trailed off at the end.

“I dunno, I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave the convention centre, it might not be safe.” The unicorn said bouncing slightly and pressing her hooves together.

“Oh well I would protect you, this cat has claws rarrrr” Mr Fuzzles said play slashing the air with his claws.

Sparkles giggled holding up her hooves to her snout and said “Well if you put it like that. I have no choice but to walk with you.”

“R-really?” The man dressed as a purple cat said. “Great” He said as he put his paw out to receive her hoove.

The girl dressed as a sparkly white unicorn put her hoof in his paw and they walked towards the main entrance of the whitefish convention centre.

“Get the fuck out of my way, furry freaks!” Zomnision shouted as he pushed them apart barrelling into the main convention hall. The convention floor was decked out with banners for the annual furry convention. Men and women dressed as various animals real and imagined, some in giant diapers for some reason, having the time of their lives. In a space they felt safe and secure surrounded by people just like them.

“What’s his problem?” Mr Fuzzles said as he got up and helped Sparkles to her feet.

“I dunno but he looked kind of sick to me.” She cooed softly.

Zomnision staggered, sweating, barely keeping on his feet, “Fucking fuck, what the fuck? I can’t, I can’t keep it in anymore!” He could feel it building, pressure. He let it slip a little bit pushing past a pack of silver wolves. They were standing in a queue for one of the booths selling oversized furry sunglasses. Little squeaky farts and burps he couldn’t keep in. Something was growing and multiplying inside him at a rate he couldn’t control. His vision was a blurr of sweat and fur. “Someone call me an ambulance!”

“You’re an ambulance!” Some anonymous idiot shouted.

“Is that guy on drugs?” A golden marmacet man said.

“What’s with the weird swammy get up?” A mauve giraffe asked.

“Is that cultural appropriation?” A rhinestone pequin in a giant foam cowboy hat said.

“That outfit is kind of racist” Someone said in a valley girl accent.

He fell slamming right into a black wolf with red highlights and bondage gear on. He was holding up a sign that said ‘FREE HUGS’ on it next to a stall with a rainbow flag selling t-shirts. The wolf angrily got to his feet and said “You got a problem you Jeanie looking faggot motherfucker?”

“Please help me!” Zomnision whimpered as the wolf man picked him up by his frilly collar. He was burping and coughing and leaking a strange clear liquid out of his mouth and nose and eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you man?” The wolf said as he pushed him away, wiping his furry paws on himself, looking at the strange liquid. “What is this? It stinks!”

Zomnision tumbled into a pile of furries who were writhing around in a big inflatable ball pool.

“Hey man you’re not a furry” A blue fox with straps across his chest said in the pile.

“Yeah get lost buddy, furries only” A green otter person wearing a pirate hat and eyepatch said.

“Yiff your own kind!” A grey wolf wearing a neckerchief said.

“Get a furself or get out pal” A brown bear in a bikini said in a threatening man’s voice.

“Please, I need help!” Zomnision gurgled, the noises in his stomach were audible to all now and there was movement under his clothes. He seemed to be puffing up, getting larger, his skin bubbling. “It’s in me, I can’t keep it in anymore, it’s growing!”

They furries couldn’t not see it now, Zomnision’s flesh was unnaturally distended. It was stretching as some build up of pressure was pushing his gut and neck and cheeks out. He was filling up like a balloon all the veins raising under his skin like he decompressing.

“What the hell is wrong with this guy, is this some kind of joke?” A man dressed as a Gerbil painted in the colours of the swedish flag.

“What do we do?” A goffer dressed as willy wonka asked.

“Pop him with a pin” A ferret cosplaying as Jack Sparrow asked.

“I can use my claws” A badger wearing an army helmet said.

“You’re not a real badger gary!” The gofferman said.

“I am too, that’s ignorant!” Gary responded.

“I can’t hold it anymore!” Zomnision screamed, his eyes popping out of their sockets, his skin tight and taught and white. There was so much force on his body they could hear his blood vessels popping, his bones creaking as they bent.

“He’s gonna blow!” An owl dressed as Hulk Hogan squawked.

A thundercrack of an unhuman fart ripped through the convention. Within a matter of seconds a thick green gaseous mist spread through the stalls. Saturating the entirity of the convention centre touching everything, filling the room like a vacuum. A green poodle in a top hat and monocle noticed it first breathing it in and passing out, but not before dropping the monocle in it’s drink. Next a parrot in a sombrero inhaled and keeled over. Panic spread as fast as the mist and a stampede for the door was inevitable but it was too late. They were bottle necked, trapped like crabs in a bucket as the mist engulfed them and put them down on the ground unlikely to get up.

Waves of multi-coloured wolves with mutlitcoloured hair and foxes and horse people fell to the ground. Within a matter of moments the convention centre fell silent.

~

GS2 Chapter 2 ‘LionKiler’

Here we are again, you must be masochists. Another, yes another chapter of unedited goodness of Green Sunday’s second outing and my hasn’t she been busy, actually no wait, she isn’t even in this chapter, scratch that. Got some shiny characters for y’all to love and hate.

(Also got some more pictures of green haired chicks haha)

Ok, so, GS2 is done, the ending turned out pretty decent. I know it’s a dumb book, but I feel good about it, like it’ll surprise some people, because for all it’s silliness, there is a semblance of a story building, of relationships forming of characters growing and it does my heart good. And of course soon I’ll be delving into more serious works so I can’t wait for that.

Just proofreading as we speak, talking to Mike from Pagdon illustration about the next cover, this one is gonna be fucking nuts, I can’t wait. I should have it up and selling fairly soon, just editing and hacking away at the usual spammistry. I do love to grind and facebook as always makes it so much fun, adding that extra spice of internet shekel grabbing cancer. I must have been post blocked more than ‘literally hitler’.

As always, link below to the full unedited chapter and if you’re new and want to buy the first book head on over to amazon with this lovely little linkle; Green Sunday 1

And yeah I know it says it’s chapter 3 on inkitt, well who you gonna believe me or them?

LionKiller

“Rigby.” Evergreen turned to his right keeping his eyes on this strange little man. A mercenary not wearing a mask, came up beside him carrying a carbon fibre case in one hand. The Merc was tall and broad with fair hair and the face of a rugby player. Looked less like a face and more like two fists trying to fuck as he scrunched it up trying to size up the strange Frenchman.

Rigby eyed the strange man up and down, like he was looking at leprechaun that just jumped out of his cereal. Continuing to stare at the odd spectacle of a man, he craned his neck back as Evergreen opened the case in his arms.

Evergreen pulled out what looked like an oxygen tank. A truck on the highway behind the tall trees shielding them from the road rushed by honking at the sun going down.

Evergreen let the heavy tank fall by his side as he turned to the strange Frenchman.

He held up a nozzle as he spoke which was connected to the pressurized gas canister and said “A pressurized gas gun. Used by lock smiths to push locks out of their frames. Something similar used by slaughterhouses to kill cattle. Shoots a jet of highly condensed air when a seal is made and it can prove quite destructive.” He said as he handed it to the Frenchman who eyed it with fascination for a moment.

“Mai qui, how you say? ‘What a piece of crap’. I would maybe be better with my dick in my hand.” The Frenchman laughed as he messed with the nozzle shooting out little jets of air messing up the curly hair under his beanie riding high on his head. He squinted and smiled before tossing it back towards Evergreen, landing at his feet.

Rigby picked up the canister still eyeing the Frenchman with an odd distasteful expression and put it back in the case and sealed it shut.

“I find something in town maybe.” He shrugged scrunching up his multiple stubbly chins. He smiled and said ”see you, aurevoir!” As he pushed passed the mercs and started walking towards the main road. “TAXI!” He called out as he climbed an embankment pushing through the trees to get to the road

Rigby watched him go and said in a broad Yorkshire accent “What a total twat”.

Evergreen let out a sigh in agreement.

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.

 

Green Sunday Chapter 9 Cobra Clutch (Raw)

Ok here’s the latest chapter straight from proofreading, it’s just the first proofread, still rough as shit but it’s a fun chapter, lots of action and fucked up shit.If you wanna read the full chapter and all previous chapters head on over to my inkitt page and read it for free.

Green Sunday Chapter 9

TJ squirmed on the back of the bike trying to lock his pudgy fingers around Sunday’s lithe frame. Fear overpowering his natural inclinations for tact and subtlety.

The engine of the Harley continental coughed and spluttered. It roared like a rambunctious kitten. It was no huge feat for the bikers to catch up to them after finding their dead friend. Their bikes engine noises rolled over the hills like thunder. It sounded like a storm coming that no one could get out of the way of.

TJ looked back and saw only a cloud of smoke and dust. He half expected a haunted pirate ships to emerge from it with jet black sails. Crewed by stop motion skeletons. But as it cleared, only a parade of shiney chrome and black leather remained. A tide of ill fitting pants and boots with lots of buckles on them moving gradually closer.

“Can we out run them?” TJ yelped.

“No” Sunday said without even looking back.

“Then what are we gonna do?”

“This” Sunday said almost whispering. She stopped the bike with a sudden anguished screeching of the continental’s tires.

“What the fuck are you doing?? They’ll kill us!” TJ squealed.

“They might” Sunday said. She propped the bike up with the kickstand and dismounted with the grace of a duchess.

TJ dismounted almost falling as she dismounted first. This brought back horrible memories of riding in a bike seat with his Mom when he was a kid.

“We’ve gotta hide” TJ said breathelessly clinging to one of his sweaty moobs. His sword in his other hand shaking in its cheap faux lacquer sheathe.

“Where?” Sunday said as she took up a batting stance squeezing the grip of the bat in both hands. She took a few practice swings at that mean old air.

TJ looked around a full three sixty and realised they were on the edge of town. They were on an open street with no cover.

“Looks like we’ll have to reason with them” Sunday said. A wry smirk peeling across her face as she walked past TJ with the bat across her shoulder.

The bikers didn’t speed up or slow down, they kept their solid droning pace. They knew there was nowhere for them to run. And the building sounds of the engines would fill the entire town with a primal dread.

They were on them like vultures, two at first, circling, the rest hung back a little to see what they’d do. The bikers were armed with pipes and chains and anything they could get their hands on. They dragged the chains behind their bikes and the scraped the ground with their pipes. Which in a different situation TJ would find pretty cool. It kind of reminded him of the opening scene of Akira. But that was beside the point because they were probably trying to kill him.

Sunday breathed out slowly, closing her eyes, digging her feet into the cold dry tarmac. She squeezed and released the grip of the bat as they circled, laughing and whooping inaudibly.

One of them tore in front of her as the other watched. His tires screeched in pain as they turned to face her head on but she didn’t move. He charged screaming for her but she remained still. He raised his pipe above his head as he angled his bike to give him a good swing. With an instant ferocious finesse, she stepped forward into the arch of his strike. Sinking her bat straight across his chest he bounced off his bike. The bike came to a stop scraping along the concrete.

Sunday breathed in calmly closing her eyes again. Squeezing and releasing the handle of the bat as it hummed in her hands. Sending shivers of pain all through her arms and down her back.

“You fucking bitch!” The bikers friend screeched pulling down the bandana covering his mouth. “I’m gonna fuck you up!”

Sunday wasn’t paying attention. She picked up the other bikers discarded pipe without looking at him as he circled back to strafe her.

She looked it over, as he closed the distance. Tears and snot streamed from his eyes, rage pounding on the accelerator.

She idly tossed the pipe and the biker was too angry to notice it fall right in his path of destruction. By the time he wiped the snot out of his face it was too late. He ran over the mangled pipe and it got caught up in the front tire. The front wheel twisted bringing the bike veering to one side and down into the concrete. It squealed to a stop and Sunday walked towards the downed biker. The bike stopped a good few feet away from where she was already standing.

He was pinned under the bike. Both of his legs broken for sure, coughing up blood, screaming “You bitch, you fucking bitch!”

She was slower for some reason, she dragged the bat now with one hand squeezed her arm with her other hand. She brought the bat up and split his head effortless. It made a mundane wet imploding noise like a watermelon dropped on concrete. His mouth went slack and his eyes rolled back in his head.  She pulled the spiked monstrosity out of his head with a soggy sucking noise.

Then silence, a slow deafening silence. Then a thunderous clap breaking the silence apart like thor’s hammer on the clouds. A man on an enormous bucket seat Harley sat as if on a throne watching. Surrounded by his cronies, a fine looking biker chick on the back of his bike clinging to him. He slowly clapped with his huge gloved hands.

“That was cute, I really dug that” He said as he leaned forward across his custom handlebars. There was a cobra design on the front of his bike and his breaks and clutch were ornate snake heads with a brass finish. “Oh you’re finished, allow me to introduce myself” the man said as he stroked his fu Manchu moustache. A large latin man with tattoos covering most if not all his arms. He was adorned with mayan tribal art mixed with a tinge of Japanese rip offs. He wore a loosely cut denim waist coat the back of which was emblazoned with their insignia. An angel in a straight jacket with the words ‘los ángeles locos’ written below it. Completed by a pair dark red leather pants and agressive looking combat boots.

“My name is Mojang, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” before he finished talking the bikes fired up again. Before she knew it Sunday was surrounded by ten maybe twelve bikers. Clouds of smoke encircled her, a maelstrom of twisted metal surrounded her. Her hair sweeping across her face. She raised he bat with a bitter defiance ready to swing at the next one that came close. She hoped to take them one at a time like balls in a batting cage.

If you enjoyed this excerpt head on over to my inkitt page to read the rest for free.

Green Sunday Chapter 9

 

 

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