How 'Bout A Drink, Santa? A Holiday Short For Adults By Cory Cline

                                                          How 'Bout A Drink, Santa? By Cory Cline

The last present of the night had finally been delivered and dawn’s breath was biting at Santa’s heels while he burned what was left of the night’s sky. At 1,800 miles per second, he had just enough time to pull into Tijuana and change before he met a few of the elves from the office for a drink at the Taj Mahal.

Once the old man was ready for his trip, the elves were officially off duty for the season. This year, a few of them were planning on going to Tijuana’s best gentleman’s club and it didn’t take much to twist Santa’s arm and convince him to meet them after work to celebrate another holiday season in the books.

By the time the sun came up in Pittsburgh, Santa was pulling onto the roof of the famed strip club. He released the magic reigns and stepped out of the sleigh. A stubby finger to one side of his nose put him in a bright silk floral shirt and a pair of khaki cargo shorts; his boots replaced with hemp flip flops. A finger to the other side of his nose and he was in the club.

Santa appeared in the chair closest to the bartender, who looked at him with surprise at first, but smiled when he recognized the familiar face.

“Hello, old friend. Glad to see you again.” 

“Hello, Frankie Boy, it’s been a while.” Santa pulled his pipe out of his breast pocket. “Can I smoke in here?”

Frankie Boy smiled. “This is Tijuana, not the U.S.”

Santa raised the pipe to his lips and winked as he began pulling long drags on the best medicinal marijuana Colorado had to offer.  “I’ll smoke to that, Frankie Boy. It’s surprising what they leave in lieu of cookies in the progressive states. ” He blew large smoke rings across the bar and with a twinkle in his eye and a snap of his fingers those hazy rings transformed into smoke candy canes and gingerbread men that danced to the music as they floated away from the bar.

“You haven’t lost your touch, my amigo.” Frankie wiped the bar in front of the cheerful old man.

Santa took in the sights of the club. Women were everywhere in various degrees of undress, with even more men following them around like happy puppy dogs. Bright lights flashed and spot lights on stages illuminated things that Santa could never ask Mrs. Clause to do.

“How ‘bout a drink? Every year there are more and more stops to make, these humans make rabbits look asexual, I tell ya.”  Santa pulled out his wallet and laid a twenty dollar bill on the bar.

Frankie Boy laughed while he poured Santa the only drink his old friend had ever ordered; Jameson, straight. He jumped when three more guests arrived on the chairs around Santa at the bar, spilling a dab of whiskey on the bar.

Santa, used to how elf magic made transportation so easy, laughed and smacked his meaty palm on the bar. “Three more drinks for my friends, Frankie Boy.” Santa turned his attention to his three friends. “ Hello Chipper, Angelic, and Happy.”

Chipper Jollytoes, Angelic Peppermintbuns, and Happy Twinkletoes all greeted their boss with good cheer and congratulations on another successful ride while Frankie Boy made them their drinks. The elves were full of good spirits, as always, but Santa wondered if they had made any stops on the way down south.

Happy didn’t take long to tell on her friends. “Vegas is amazing during the holidays.” She laughed, while the other elves looked at her with raised elf brows. “What, was I not supposed to say anything?”

“No. Jeez, not everything has to be a story.” Angelic said, slapping her friend on the arm.

Santa laughed. “I see my elves had the opportunity to indulge themselves in Sin City.” He patted Angelic on the back as his stomach rolled and bounced. “Vegas don’t have shit on Tijuanna.” The bar shook and alcohol spilled onto the bar again as Santa continued to laugh.

“Watch it, fat-man!” Chipper laughed as she raised her glass off the bar and away from the vibrations caused by his earnest laughter. “Alcohol abuse!” She threw the shot back with the ease of a sailor returning from sea.

They all laughed and shared stories and good cheer. More drinks were bought and even more were consumed as the clubs patrons could not resist the chance to buy Santa and his elves a drink. The bar tab they were running was more than what Santa had expected and he soon found he was going to need to find an ATM.

Santa slid out of his chair with the grace of a giraffe on roller-skates and proceeded to drop to the floor as if gravity had ceased to exist.

Chipper, Angelic, Happy and yes, Santa himself began to laugh uncontrollably.

“Good thing Rudolph leads the way.” Santa laughed harder and soon his hearty laugh was heard throughout the bar.

“It would be, but I bet him an eighth of mushrooms that his nose didn’t blink when he sneezed.” Chipper Jollytoes grabbed Santa’s shirt and pulled him up with surprising ease for such a little creature. “Why didn’t you tell me that his nose lit up when he sneezed?” She tried to look as angry as her little elf face could make her but Santa only laughed more, throwing his head back before Chipper let him fall back to the floor with a heavy thud. His large belly filling with air and sending out immense holiday cheer throughout the club with every guffaw that shook him.

More drinks were sent, more laughter to be had and when Santa could finally stand and control his laughter he remembered he still needed more money. He stumbled, feeling the effects of his laughter in his enormous gut. He only bumped into two people on the way to the ATM, the holiday cheer had spread far and wide and Santa was met with good cheer from the normally aggressive crowd.

As he swayed and stumbled and squinted as he got to the dark corner where the ATM was, he saw the yellow paper taped to the front of the ATM.

Out of Order.

He looked around the bar. Chipper, Angelic, and Happy had gone to the jukebox. They were all laughing. “Santa Baby” began to play on the clubs industrial strength speakers.

“Oh!No!No!” Santa huffed. He hated that song, and headed for the door so he could find another ATM. He knew those three were going to be playing at least ten dollars’ worth of holiday songs.

He stumbled into the humid warmth of the early morning where other drunks stumbled around like confused zombies. A feral dog ran across the street and Santa saw a light pole casting its beam on a glowing ATM like a beacon for more good cheer.

Santa stumbled away from the club. Forgetting the most important rule of having fun in Tijuana, never travel alone at night. His drunken shamble caught the interest of Tijuana’s finest who arrived just as Santa had pocketed his wallet after successfully refilling its contents.

A battered old pickup with six armed police officers stopped in front of him. Santa raised his hands to block the bright light of the pickup’s headlights. He could only make out shadows and when he stumbled backwards, his leg hit a big plant stand and he fell in it, which only brought back the heavy guffaws of laughter that had filled the bar minutes before.

Two of the police officers jumped out of the back of the truck. They were still kids and should be in bed dreaming of gumdrops and lollipops, not driving around a ruthless town with fingers on their fully automatic assault rifle.

Santa laughed harder as he was dragged to the back of the truck.

“Are you O.K.?” One of them asked in broken English. They assumed he was American.

Santa laughed. “I have to piss.”

They stood him up, helping him stand as he wavered to the side of the truck where they allowed him to try to relieve himself. After spraying all over the side of the truck, the street, and himself; he tried to gather some sort of dignity. Santa swayed and stumbled as he tried to zip up. His hands unable to do what his brain told them to and he only laughed harder and faster as his amusement at his epic fail grew.

Santa fell again. The police, un-amused, now dragged him into the back of the truck and took off with a cloud of dust. Santa’s laughter could be heard from blocks away as the heavily armed truck took off toward the jail.

He knew he was in jail the first time he woke up. He blinked and looked around at the dirt floor and bars in front of him in the small room. He laughed a little and put his head back down, sleeping was better.

His eyes fluttered open in the sunlight that came in through the small window in his cell. He scratched his eyes and sat up, his head pounding. He looked around the cell; saw a coffee pot on the floor and assumed that was his toilet. A soup can filled with water that looked less than appetizing due to its orange tint was on the floor next to the bigger can.

Two officers sat in an office across from his cell. They were laughing and talking in Spanish. It didn’t take Santa long to know they were laughing at him. He could tell they were still holding their rifles.

 Santa stood and brushed himself off, “You really did it this time.” He mumbled to himself right before his three elf friends appeared in front of him. They appeared against the wall, out of site of the guards who were guarding their merry boss.

“Here you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Chipper said, her smile told him she was not surprised to find him here.  

“Where did you go off too?” Happy asked.

Santa winked at her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He couldn’t hide the twinkle in his eyes from denying her a good story to tell all the other elves. “It doesn’t matter, I’m here.” Santa shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Alcohol and magic was never a good thing to mix.

“Well, this is really bad for publicity.” Angelic tapped her foot, impatiently.

“I know.” Santa rubbed his face. He was thirsty, but he was not going to drink that filthy water; if it was water. He may have mistaken it for the toilet last night; he couldn’t be sure and didn’t want to risk it.

“Oh for Jack Frost’s sake!” Chipper winked and a bottle of crisp fresh water melted by chimney straight from the North Pole appeared in her hand. “Here, drink up, fat man.”

Santa took the frosty bottle and drank it. The icy water slipped past his parched lips with ease and his eager gulps were too much for his mouth to handle as he sputtered and coughed before he took the bottle away.

His three elf friends wiped the water off their faces. The police officers were pointing at him, and Santa had a feeling that it was time to go. He quickly chugged the rest of the magically refreshing water and held the empty bottle up to his eye. He winked twice.

By the time the officers were out of their office, Santa took the now smoking bottle and threw it down the hallway towards the office door. It rattled and bounced down the hallway sending out a haze that filled the corridor with enough fog for the prisoner to make some real magic. He touched the side of his nose, walked over to the cell door and with his size 11 black steel toed boot kicked that cell door down with less effort than it took the police to throw him in that cell.

Before the officers yells could be heard he threw his mittens down the hallway and pulled his pipe out of his coat pocket. It was always there when he needed it. He winked at Chipper, Angelic, and Happy. The gloves exploded with a poof of ribbons and his captors’ muffled screams were all the proof he needed that the ribbons had done their job and taken care of his escape.

“Is the sleigh on the roof?” Santa asked as he stepped into the swirling peppermint gas.

“Yes. Rudolph is in the trunk though.” Chipper said as they followed.

“Really?” Santa couldn’t resist a chuckle.

“Yeah, we had to cover his nose because it wouldn’t stop glowing it was attracting attention.” Chipper laughed when she saw the police on the ground. Red, green and silver foil surrounded their head with big Mickey Mouse ear bows.

“Poor, Rudolph. He thinks everyone makes fun of him because of his nose, it’s just because he’s such a light weight. Are the rest of the reindeer good to fly?” Santa stood tall over his friends in his red suit as they all looked at the police on the floor. They all nodded.

“Will they be Okay?” Happy looked worried.

“Of course, the effects of the peppermint gas will wear off soon enough.” Santa smiled and looked at the officers who were now passed out on the ground. “There was quite a bit in that bottle; might not be so soon after all. Do you three need a ride?”

His co-workers all shook their heads.

“Well then, I wish you all a great New Year! Until July?”

The elves smiled and waved as the big guy put his finger up to his nose and disappeared to the roof. The peppermint gas left a swirl of a giant candy cane in his wake.

 Chipper winked and took off to the roof just in time to watch the sleigh fly over the Taj Mahal. It picked up speed before it blinked out sight on the horizon, heading north. A golden shower of magical stars and sparks were all that was left. Happy and Angelic appeared next to Chipper just in time to see the last of the elf dust fall from the sky.

“He does know how to make an exit.” Happy laughed as she prepared to part ways with her co-workers.

“So glad we don’t have to work today.” Angelic whispered as she held her head.

Chipper and Happy laughed. They all knew they would be suffering for a while after a night like that.

 “Ten bucks says we’ll see him at Mardi Gras.” Chipper said before they all broke out into a chorus of laughter and they winked, blinked, and nodded themselves off of that dirty prison roof.

-Thanks for reading! If you would like to check out more, go to Amazon and pick up...                           As Seen On TV

Rambling- There's no place like home...

There’s no place like home, Dorothy says as she clicks her heels and magic happens.

Go back to Kansas, and clean up that mess that Toto left in my yard, Dorothy.

Home is a different place for many people. For some people, it is a brick and mortar building where they raise their family. For some it is a fond memory of a building they grew up in. A writer’s (insert artist’s, if needed) home is inside his brain. All of those things we see with family, friends, and co- workers become a part of our home.  Hundreds of tabs open to favorites while hundreds more are opening by the second while we try to keep up with everything we see and wonder about. It’s like having a pop up blocker that’s turned off and you’re browsing porn when your boss walks in. I’m better powering down than trying to close all those tabs that keep opening faster than I can close them.  

We store these things for later use. When I’m watching my wife comb her hair it’s not only because she’s probably naked, but it’s because I may need to describe a scene in a book where our hero is watching someone who is combing their hair. Why? I don’t know, but it can happen. As a professional, it is my duty to be honest to my readers, and in order to do so I have to share a little bit of my home with them.  For those of you unfamiliar with an artists world, this may seem strange, so please allow me to elaborate.

I write a story, and in order to get readers to keep reading more, I have to make them come back.  I can’t just write: “She combed her hair while he watched.” That could be taken wrong.  Why is he just watching her comb her hair? Is he even in the same room?  Is he just outside a window?

Don't worry he only comes in if you invite him.

Now, if I say, “He found himself hypnotized by the way she held her head to the side while brushing her hair. He watched in silent awe as her hair brushed against her bare back like waves lapping at the shore on a moonlit beach.”  Now, not only do I come off as having had some sort of knowledge of watching the elusive female in the wild, but I have effectively communicated that this guy is obviously in an intimate setting with someone he cares enough about to gaze upon her the same way people view one of nature's most amazing events.  

By placing my character in a familiar setting, I am not only conveying a relatable scene to my reader, but I am admitting that I am perfectly content just watching my wife brushing her hair. I’ve done it before and will do it many more times in my life. It is a thing of beauty and it is the type of image I want in my favorites. I can close my eyes right now and see it; I bet I could even trace the tattoo below her neck and not even have to touch her. That’s how confident I am in my home.

I’ve got four kids and a wife I am crazy about, so there’s a lot of memory used on my hard drive already.  I hate dates and appointments, but remember the way the moon light illuminated her face when she stood up on her toes to kiss me for the first time.  I can’t remember what time I got married, but I can still feel my wife’s hand in mine as I slipped a ring on her slender finger while looking into those brown eyes that always make me feel like drowning would be a perfectly acceptable death.  I can’t tell you how many pounds and ounces my kids weighed when they were born, but I remember the way they smelled and squirmed when I held them the first time and how tiny those little fingers are when they are just out of the package.  

There are plenty of times I appear to be “out of the moment.” Perhaps I seem distracted, but please know, I’m secretly banging nails on walls to hang that moment in the living room of my castle. I am the king of my castle, after all, so I’ll hang that frame wherever the fuck I want to hang it!

It may be in ruins, but it's a castle. 

-Cory Cline

Guest Blog- Mark Allan Gunnells- Why I Love Zombies

WHY I LOVE ZOMBIES

By Mark Allan Gunnells

I have no shame in admitting that I love zombies.  Romero films, The Walking Dead, even horror/comedy hybrids like Shaun of the Dead and Zombieland—I’m a junkie for tales of the undead.  I don’t often spend time analyzing why I like the things I like, but I have put a little thought into what it is that appeals to me about zombie stories.  I figured I’d share.

What appeals to me the most about zombie fiction is that the monster is rarely the star.  Vampires have personality and style, werewolves are people most of the time, but the zombie is just an empty vessel driven by nothing but hunger and aggression.  Sure, there are the occasional stories that imbue the undead with actual thought and motivation—Keene’s The Rising, iZombie, etc.—but for the most part the zombie is just a mindless monster that wants to eat your flesh.

And why do I find that appealing?  Because by making the zombie the least interesting part of the story, it opens things up to really delve into the living characters in the piece.  Often in fiction, especially horror fiction, the villains can overshadow the protagonists.  But in zombie fiction, the protagonists can shine, becoming all the more interesting and complex because of it.

Romero had a pretty simple formula.  Put a bunch of disparate people behind four walls—a farmhouse, a shopping mall, a military bunker—and watch as personalities clash.  The zombies were just an excuse to trap people who normally may not spend much time together in a place where they can’t leave, providing a chance to explore things like group dynamics, prejudice, power struggles, mental instability, the lengths people will go to in order to survive.  The zombies are fun and provide great grisly action, but the real entertainment comes from watching the living characters interact, the skirmishes they get into, the relationships that develop, the allegiances and conflicts that arise.  Stories of the undead can say an awful lot about the nature of being human.

Zombies can also act as a blank slate against which the atrocities of man can be reflected  in stark relief.  A movie like 28 Days Later really illustrates this.  The zombies in this film (though not of the traditional undead variety, introducing the new era of the “infected”) are intimidating and frightening foes to battle… but in the latter half of the film you come to see that what they are capable of pales in comparison to what the human mind can conceive.  Zombies act on instinct with no more malicious intent than a lion taking down a gazelle for food.  Man, on the other hand, perpetrates heinous evil with forethought and intelligence.  Using zombies as a comparison, this type of fiction has the potential to really highlight just how twisted and cruel humans can be.

With a story like World War Z (and here I talk of the book as the movie is a bit more generic and jettisons the novel’s structure which I think is its strength), you see humans fighting back against the zombies on a grand scale.  Such an epic canvas provides the opportunity to show a variety of characters battling the undead in a plethora of ways.  The resourcefulness and perseverance of humankind is celebrated.  Whereas something like 28 Days Later reveals the depths of depravity of which we as people are capable, World War Z celebrates the heroism and tenacity of which we are also capable.  That kind of balance is important.

All of these things combined are why I love zombie tales, and it’s why I love writing them from time to time.  With my new novella FORT (the shameless self-promotion portion of our blog), I tried to incorporate all the elements that make zombie fiction so appealing to me.  For my tale, I trapped a group of college kids in a dorm with dwindling school supplies and just sat back and watched what happened.  We had conflict, aggression, unexpected tenderness and support.  Some character did unspeakable things that put other people in jeopardy, while others demonstrated surprising selflessness and courage.  The story was a joy to write as it was as much an act of discovery as it was one of creation.  I went in with a set-up but no definite game plan, not knowing for sure who would live or die, but I let the story tell me what needed to transpire.

I’m not suggesting my novella belongs in the same category as the movies and books I mentioned in this blog, but I took all my love for zombie fiction and channeled it into this piece, and I hope people walk away from it entertained.

Join the hunt for fresh brains!

Book Review- Tales From The Lake Vol. 1- Joe Mynhardt-Editor

When I read short stories, I like to pick at them. Much like I pick at the bones of the delicious fried chicken that my wife makes. I like anthologies that have a diverse selection of stories in different lengths that I can read when I find I have a bit of reading time, but not enough to get into a new novel.

Tales From The Lake Vol. 1 is the first in what I hope to be a long running annual anthology. Editor Joe Mynhardt has filled this book with fresh voices, seasoned veterans, and a couple legends of horror to give us a solid gem of a collection for horror fans.

Tim Waggoner kicks off the fun with Lover Come Back To Me, a haunting tale of a dark love pushing it's boundaries to the test.

Blaze McRob's shows his his "softer" side as he entertains with two poems that you probably won't want to find in a Hallmark card anytime soon.

Taylor Grant's Dead Pull is a perfect example of why pet shop owners should be wary of who they hire. Well told and fast paced, you will read this story in the time it takes you to check your Facebook updates.

Jennifer Loring's The Fine Art of Wrecking is another high point in this collection. A great sea story with plenty of blood in it's frothy waters. Remember, the sea never forgets...

Bev Vincent's Lady of Lost Lake and Elizabeth Massie's Don't Look At Me also deliver in a big way. Well told, nicely paced stories that are meant for one sitting.  Of course Graham Masterson does what he does best, and Witch-Compass is another classic by the legend, though I remember it well from Dark Terrors.  John Paul Allen, John Palisano, Joan De La Haye, J. Daniel Stone and William Ritchey all contribute strong stories that entertain and terrify to one extent or another.

All of these voices combine to bring a solid anthology that fans of horror short stories will love for generations to come. Nice job Joe Mynhardt, once again you have proven that Crystal Lake is not just a place for masked killers, but it is a home to terror of all sorts.

5 stars all the way.

Get dressed and head over to the lake...

-Cory Cline

Book Review- Frankenstorm by Ray Garton

There is a reason Ray Garton is a Grand Master of Horror, and it shows with Frankenstorm. Garton brilliantly steers us through the worst storm recorded in history. Mad scientists, infected patients in an abandoned hospital, gun-toting conspiracy theorists, a father rescuing his son with a crazy cop, and so much more await you in this roller coaster ride of mayhem.

The action is intense, with an old school disaster movie feel to it; people stuck in places they shouldn't be during the middle of a historic storm and the only thing that will save them is how far they are willing to go in order to survive.

Thrilling and hard to walk away from, and includes a bonus short story for dessert- The Guy Down the Street, which is worth the price admission by itself!  If you can brave the storm, make sure to bring a life-jacket, otherwise you may get swept away.

Find Frankenstorm here....

-Cory Cline

Book Review- Midnight Rain by James Newman

If I'm a sucker for anything, it's a great coming of age story. It, A Boy's Life, The Traveling Vampire Show, December Park, Stand By Me, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, Something Wicked This Way Comes... Get my drift?  These are all vastly different, but the same recurring element will often show up in these stories... A young protagonist is suddenly forced into a very adult situation where they must make very adult decisions. From now on, I will be adding James Newman's, Midnight Rain, to the list above. 

This is a real deal, no holds barred mystery/thriller that packs a punch from the get-go. I am beginning to suspect that Newman is incapable of writing a novel that doesn't grab your attention right away, as this is the second book in a row that I have read by him that was capable of making me think about what was going to happen next whenever I wasn't reading it. 

When 12-year-old Kyle Mackey witnesses a violent murder at the hands of an adult that he knows to trust, his entire childhood comes to an abrupt halt as he comes to terms with what he must do, no matter how terrified he is of the outcome. This story captures the magical wonder of childhood through the eyes of a child who knows he will never believe in magic again. The story of a boy becoming a man by experiencing the worst that humanity has to offer.  

Midnight Rain is easily consumable in one sitting.  I, on the other hand, sometimes enjoy the prolonged anticipation so I will purposefully walk away from a book like this for a bit. Not too long, grant you, but just long enough so I get those tingly tendrils of impatience that make you look at the book sitting so lonely on that table... perhaps just one more chapter... 

For a debut novel, you would never guess it. Newman writes with the confidence of a master storyteller, one who can't wait to shine that flashlight under his chin as he leans in silently to scream "Boo" in your ear.   

Alright, what are you waiting for? You want that feeling you got when you read It? How about A Boys Life? You know this shit is like a drug.  It get's in your blood, and once you get that first taste, you always remember it. Go ahead, stick your tongue out, the forecast is cloudy, with a chance of murder. 

Nothing good ever happens at those old shacks in the woods. 

Pick up your copy of Midnight Rain here...

Check out James Newman's Amazon page here...

Book Review- A Head Full of Ghosts by Paul Tremblay

Paul Tremblay has achieved the kind of book that makes you want to seek out and soak up every book you can find by that author. The kind of book you read and put it down, contentedly haunted. It floats somewhere just outside the realm of what elitists may call “true” horror. But what is “true” horror? Does it have to have severed limbs, unstoppable demonic foes with chainsaws, or a mutated zoo animal that suddenly develops a taste for human flesh? Can it be something subtle, like the soft whispers of the voices we hear in our heads? Or can it be the confused love of a trusted parent willing to do anything to protect their child?

Meredith Barrett is an adult trying her best to remember those patchy months of her childhood that changed her life forever. The time spent on a nationally televised reality show that focused on her demonically possessed older sister.  Meredith spends most of the book telling us about the show from the viewpoint of an eight-year-old girl who was as scared and confused as any child would be in such an unstable environment.  

Meredith wants to believe that her sister, Marjorie, is just pulling the wool down over everyone from her distant mother and ratings-obsessed TV crew members to her overzealous fanatical father and the viewers at home. It takes her years of looking at the past through the eyes of a wizened adult to see the truths that flutter around the edges of her reality.

 

If Alfred Hitchcock were still alive today, he would buy every copy of this book just to unleash the simple but beautiful horrors from within this book upon a world full of unprepared moviegoers. This book shows Tremblay’s ability to create strong characters and a swirling fog of a plot that embraces you just before it chills you to the bone.

Paul Tremblay doesn’t only write great horror, he writes good fiction. Do what you need to in order to get this book. Beg, borrow, or buy it now!

Go check out Paul's Amazon page, now!

Book Review- Animosity by James Newman

If James Newman were a rapper, Eminem could never say he was a Rap God. He's not, at least as far I know, and I am so glad he's not because he would have never wrote this book if that were the case. I have enjoyed some of James Newman's shorter works, but this is my first time reading something longer from him. I will punish myself later for that because this book was so much more than I was expecting. I had read some of the 5 star reviews and was expecting a good book, but I was not expecting one the best I have ever read!

Admittedly, I am easily entertained, I read a lot of books that are fun rides with lots of explicit sex, gore, cheap thrills and scares, and If I can get lost in that story for a few days, I'm pretty happy. I read this book in one day... I could not put it down for the life of me. Even though I had stuff to do, I put it off. I was too emotionally attached to this book to put it down and had to know what was going to happen next. So don't plan on doing this unless you want to get rude looks from your family while you completely ignore them for most of the day!

Andy Holland is a horror writer. He has a dark spot in his past he is not proud of, but it's something that could have happened to everyone. He manned up and paid the cost. When he finds a body of a little girl while out for a walk in his neighborhood, his past comes back to haunt not only him, but his neighbors as well. They soon become obsessed over Andy's past and the "sick" stories he now writes.

Andy is a like-able guy, he has a daughter and he argues with his ex-wife, but who wouldn't? When Newman sends trouble Andy's way, he sucks you in and makes you feel the pain that his protagonist is going through. I found myself getting angry at all the crap Andy was facing and couldn't wait for Andy to start fighting back.

Reading this book is watching a master at work. Newman makes you care about his characters. Some of them you like through the entire book, and some you really begin to hate. Soon he has you thinking of your own evil ways to kill them for their injustices against the ones you care about. The story moves fast, and it could happen to anyone, so it is easy to imagine Andy's hell as he storms through it all.

If you like a book that pulls you close, punches you in the chest, and makes you think, this book will not disappoint you in the least. Worth every penny and then some! James Newman knows what he's doing and is a top notch story teller that you won't soon forget.

Check out James' Amazon page to get this great book along with many more!

-Cory Cline

Book Review- Mr. Mercedes by Stephen King

Mr. Mercedes is a great noir style thriller with an evil and twisted protagonist who pushes our hero to the brink in this impressive book by Uncle Stevie. 

Is it King's best work? Not really. I think we all have our favorites, but this book is very good. Don't expect to find any monsters under the bed in this tale. The monsters only appear in flesh and blood, and King is writing in full color. The characters are great, in fact, I look forward to reading the other books King has planned for the series. The villain is a twisted, douchey, momma's boy who will raise the hair on the back of your neck as effectively as Pennywise, only in a this shit can really happen kind of way. 

King can write anything. I would be convinced he is a robot if he wasn't so good at capturing human nature in his pages, as he proves here he can mimic any style of writing while maintaining the form he is known for. There are a few slow areas, but they felt needed and were appreciated and done well. King is a master storyteller and he does not disappoint. 

You may not hide under the sheets while reading this one, but you will make sure your doors are locked! 

I'm not going to post a link- if you need help finding a recent Stephen King novel, I suggest moving!

Book Review- Dark Screams Volume 1- Richard Chizmar & Brian James Freeman (Editors)

Richard Chizmar and Brian James Freeman serve up a great appetizer of creeps and chills in this collection of shorts that will surely leave you waiting for the next in the series. 

I was a tad disappointed that the Stephen King short, Weeds, was a reprint. I soon forgot my disappointment after rereading this classic tale that, come to find out, has not been reprinted since his early Cavalier days. You will be looking for your copy of Creepshow when you are done reading this one, just to warn you! This story is a great treat for the hardcore King fans and a great way for new fans to get acquainted with his mastery of the short form. 

Kelly Armstrong follows with a dark and gritty revenge thriller that doesn't just go out with a bang, it goes out with some Michael Bay explosions so make sure your seat is in the upright position and please wear your seatbelts! Ms. Armstrong is always a delight to read, and this story will leave you squirming in your seat. 

Magic Eye's, Bill Pronzini's psychotic window into a madhouse is another solid entry that will not disappoint. Psychological horror by a master of suspense who captures the essence of madness and unleashes it in torrents, Magic Eye's reminds us that the eye's are the window to the soul. 

Simon Clark's Murder In Chains is the best and the worst of the stories. Simon Clark has created such a wonderfully horrific place that I can't believe this is all there is to it. I want more... correction, I need more. This should be one of those books that you could use as a doorstop if needed, or to bludgeon an intruder with, not a short story. I am crossing my fingers that Mr. Clark has realized this and is working on providing the necessary completion to this dark world. 

Ramsey Campbell brings this collection to an end with The Watched, a creepy tale that is far from my favorite of Campbell's but nonetheless a solid story that will make you pay a bit more attention to what may be lurking in the shadows outside your window at night. 

This collection, while a bit short in length, makes up for that with quality stories that will leave you anticipating the next installment in this dark series. Richard Chizmar and Brian James Freeman who are as capable of churning out tales as good as any of the authors in this collection, have begun a great endeavor that will wet any horror fan's appetite. 

I received this ARC from Penguin Group via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. 

Get Dark Screams Volume 1 here...

-Cory Cline

Book Review- Love Life by Matt Shaw

Matt Shaw really surprised me with this one. I have to admit, I was basing my judgement on the covers of some of his other books which are full of blurbs citing the inclusion of extreme horror, sex, and gore.

Instead of what I would call "extreme" I found myself mesmerized by Shaw's ability to lay down a subtle plot with despaired and flawed characters before he slams the doors on your fingers with glee. 

Kim and Kirk are two birds of a feather that come from completely different backgrounds. Shaw has the ability to make the reader care for Kim, a prostitute desperate for a change at the same time he makes the reader doubt the "too good to be true" intentions of an outwardly gentle john. Kirk seems nice and all, but it is obvious he has a secret and problems of his own. 

When Shaw performs his big reveal, he gives us the blood and unnatural jolt you would expect from an author who writes books with titles such as Rotting Dead F*cks. 

Great characterization, a fast plot that bounces from the present to the near past with ease, believable dialogue, and a pinch of darkness make for the perfect recipe for a great tale. 

Shaw seems to be a great storyteller and I will purposefully seek out more of his work, extreme warnings or not! 

Get this book or one of the other many Matt Shaw books to choose from here...

-Cory Cline

Book Review- Muerte Con Carne by Shane McKenzie

Shane McKenzie serves up a plateful of well-prepared exotic horror that Rolaids will never be able to soothe. This book is gory, twisted, humorous, and highly entertaining!

A couple takes a trip to Mexico to film a documentary on how terrible the plight of the immigrant can be. They are hoping to be caught and sent to jail in Mexico, but they will soon wish they were behind bars as their trip soon leads them to the sickest family since Leatherface's family reunion. You get Taco's that taste too good to be true, a wrestler that would sell out any WWE pay-per view event.. but never allowed back, and a family that would never yell at you for playing with your food.

Shane has a twisted sense of humor and it shows in his writing. His characters are likable, believable, and some are quite twisted. The story moves along at a good pace, perhaps a bit slow in the beginning but when the action comes, he brings it like Hulk Hogan calling for the approval from the Hulkamaniacs.

If you enjoy a twisted, gory horror story with a splash of humor then do not hesitate in purchasing this book! You will not be disappointed!

Go check out Shane's Amazon page for more great books!

-Cory Cline

Book Review- Night Life by Ray Garton

Ray Garton's Live Girls is one of those books that when you put it down, you know you want to read more. It's not fair that the only vampire books that get sequels are known for their sparkle, or whatever you call it. 

While his vampires are capable of falling in love, and can resist the urge to sink their teeth into every neck they see, they are also capable of being the brutal monsters they are meant to be. 

In Night Life, Garton moves his vampires across the country from the grimy strip club in Times Square, New York circa 1980 to the sleazy Los Angelas porn industries of the 2000's. The move is not only fitting, as everyone knows, sequels must always take things to the next level, but Garton effortlessly changes the whole feel of the story to match the move. 

Live Girls just felt like you were in Times Square, New York during the 80's. Peep Shows and adult entertainment found down back alleys of a city known for it's dirty little secrets. Night Life takes us to the shock me if you can era of adult entertainment, where girls have to do much more than just offer a peep. 

In Night Life we are introduced to Martin Burgess, a horror writer with an obsession over vampires. He wants to know the truth behind the stories he has read regarding the Live Girls club in New York. He hires a couple of private investigators; Karen Moffett and Gavin Keoph, to dig through the muck and trace these stories back to their origins. 

This leads them back to Walter Benedick, the reporter who tried to uncover the truth but has since gone into hiding to try and keep his distance from the Brutals. Walter's problem is that he is still a reporter at heart and wants the truth to be exposed. He convinces Davey and Casey Owens, now married and accustomed to living the life of the undead, to talk to the investigators. 

Of course, the Brutals are not keen on being exposed and are willing to do everything they can to keep these secrets from being exposed. Like an artist uncovering his painting for the world to see, Garton removes the cover and unleashes his Brutal's upon our heroes, and while there is no sparkle, there is plenty of splatter. 

Is Night Life as good as Live Girls? I wouldn't go that far. How many sequels are honestly as good or better than the original? I didn't know what to expect when reading Live Girls, and it's hard to recapture that feeling of stumbling across something new. That is perfectly acceptable though, I didn't want anything new with this book. I wanted to catch up with Davey and Casey, I wanted to see what these vampires were doing, and how they have adapted to the ever-changing world just like the rest of us have. Night Life is a solid sequel. It is gory, brutal- but most importantly, it is fun. Thank you, Mr. Garton, for catching us up with these monsters that do what they are supposed to do... act like monsters. 

                                                                       I keep telling Bobby to stay off the carpet, or no bed-time story

Find this book and others by Ray Garton on Amazon...

Book Review- Mountain Home by Bracken Macleod

Mountain Home is one of those rare stories where it is almost impossible to decide who you are rooting for. You have a protagonist who is classically in the wrong place at the wrong time while you are silently cheering the antagonist on as she ruthlessly chases down her demons. 

Bracken Macleod crafts a fast-paced story full of action, tension, bullets, and explosions. There is even a hint of a monster beside the human variety, but it is the least of the problems for the people who find themselves under siege in this cozy restaurant with a view. Macleod shows he is a master of character and is capable of making his readers feel love, hate, compassion, and revulsion, sometimes all on the same page, and he makes it all look so easy. 

Be prepared to choose a side, but know that you will not like doing so. Life is full of despicable people and when the line is drawn in the sand someone will eventually step across it.
Go get it on Amazon!




-Cory Cline