'Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world.
--William Shakespeare
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Thursday, October 16, 2014
The Monster's Scribbler: Excerpt 2
The Monster's Scribbler
Wisteria Mountain High, Book 1
Available from
Amazon | Barnes and Noble | KOBO
Excerpt
“Did
the cat get your tongue? Or was it the Boogieman?” Jayla and her small group of
cheerleaders laughed.
“The
Boogieman doesn’t take children’s tongues. He prefers to scare you, so he can
feed on your fear.” Phoebe put her hands on her hips. Jayla’s crap was old and
Phoebe was so sick of it and the other stuff she had put up with lately. “Now,
the Boogiewoman, that’s a different story. She just absolutely loves the
tongues of mean bullies.”
“Boogiewoman?”
asked one of the cheerleaders with Jayla.
“Phoebe,
let’s go.” Madison
tugged on Phoebe’s sleeve.
“You
can’t leave. Phoebe was just telling me about the Boogiewoman, and I just have
to hear more. This story is so entertaining.” Jayla laughed.
“Phoebe?”
Madison’s voice
no more than a squeak.
“Madison, I have to stand
up to her. I can’t run away. Not anymore.” Phoebe swallowed but the lump of
fear stayed firmly stuck in place. Even though she was afraid, she knew she had
to stand up. She had done it once before. How was this any different?
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Sunday, October 5, 2014
from The Monster's Scribbler
Something heavy
slammed into Phoebe, knocking her free of the grip.
“No!” Becka’s scream
echoed through the pavilion. “The story isn’t worth it. I don’t want it. I want
this nightmare to end.”
The lake churned and
bubbled ferociously like boiling water.
Terrified Phoebe
stared. She knew she should run, but her legs weren’t getting the message her
brain was sending.
Out of the depths of
the lake, rose the monster that had injured Phoebe’s shoulder and plagued her
dreams. It did not glide smoothly out of the murky depths. It dug and clawed
its way through the water like a vampire or a zombie digging its way out of a
dirt-filled grave. The flesh clinging to the bony limbs stretched under the
weight of the waters, making the putrid flesh ooze and drip even more than it
did in Phoebe’s nightmares. New exposed white bones glowed in the moonlight.
The tattered remains of clothes barely hung on the gaunt frame approaching the
shore.
Phoebe could not do
anything but stare at it.
The monster stepped
into the soft twinkling light of the pavilion. Its face was little more than a
skull with patches of rotting flesh clinging to it. The eyes—the eyes were not
there. Two large dark holes marked the spot, but deep in their depths, small,
blood red embers glowed.
Phoebe tried screaming
but nothing came out of her mouth. Wide-eyed and shaking, her legs started
working and she backed away from the monster-filled pavilion.
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