Crescendo of Darkness — Coming Soon!

Skewed Notions is pleased to host HorrorAddicts.net today and a new audio book for your horror enjoyment.

Music has the power to soothe the soul, drive people to obsession, and soundtrack evil plots. Is music the instigator of madness, or the key that unhinges the psychosis within? From guitar lessons in a graveyard and a baby allergic to music, to an infectious homicidal demo and melancholy tunes in a haunted lighthouse, Crescendo of Darkness will quench your thirst for horrifying audio fiction.

HorrorAddicts.net is proud to present fourteen tales of murderous music, demonic performers, and cursed audiophiles.

Please enjoy an excerpt below from Crescendo of Darkness.

“Six String Bullets” by Cara Fox

The pull of a busker’s song becomes too much for a young woman to resist.

Ashley Dunn had walked the same way to work for the last two years, but she never noticed the busker before. He was already as much a part of the bustling commuter street as the cars speeding past or the tattered street lamps shining brightly to pierce the early morning gloom, their beams throwing sharp relief on the rain. The busker blended in seamlessly, seated cross-legged, his back to the stone wall of the Victorian bank building, and his beaten-up guitar across his lap as he played. No one else spared him a glance, but she saw him.

Their eyes met through the crowd and Ashley’s heart missed a beat.

Something about him seemed familiar. She stepped out of the steady flow of people walking with their heads down and their minds lost to the working day ahead, breaking free of the crowd as the busker’s song grew louder and clearer with every step she took. It wasn’t his song that caught her attention, but the man himself. His crooked glasses and expensive looking suit weren’t a part of the usual busker uniform seen all over town.

The sounds of the crowd faded away as Ashley came to a hesitant halt in front of him, and the enigmatic busker’s song swelled in an instant to fill the void. It had no words, but he didn’t need words to express himself. The music alone was more than capable of that. She could swear she hadn’t heard the song before, but something about it was as familiar and natural as breathing. It spoke to her heart, stripping away everything until the busker and his song were all she knew. Her eyes closed as the music sped through her veins, dazing and rooting her in place. It was such a simple melody.

It shouldn’t be able to do that to me.

However many times she told herself, it made no difference. Her heart raced and her legs shook so wildly, she thought they might give way.

No.

Ashley drew a deep breath, but the moment her eyes opened, the busker’s own eyes locked onto hers and a fierce shudder rippled down her spine. Her breath caught in her throat. As she fought to steady herself against the unexpected burst of emotion, the music soared and intensified, each note a six string bullet cutting straight to her soul.

Tears filled her eyes. All she could see was the busker, and all she could hear was his song. She didn’t know how so many other people casually passed by without even glancing at him, but she found it impossible to look away.

The busker paid no heed to his captive audience. It was as if all he knew was the music, too. His guitar case was empty, but even when she impulsively emptied her pockets into it, he didn’t miss a beat.

The gentle clinking of the coins against each other jolted Ashley back to her senses, realising she was soaked to the bone. Strange. The rain wasn’t heavy. No one was even carrying an umbrella. It would’ve taken hours for her to be so drenched.

Hours… She glanced down at her wristwatch.

Shit.

The spell broken, she turned on her heel and sped down the street, flinging apologies in all directions as she pushed past the morning commuters and dashed toward her office.

*********************************

To read the rest of this story and thirteen

other horror music shorts, check out:

Crescendo of Darkness

Direct link: https://www.amazon.com/Crescendo-Darkness-Jeremiah-Donaldson/dp/1987708156

Edited by Jeremiah Donaldson

Cover by Carmen Masloski

HorrorAddicts.net Press

Let music unlock your fear within.

Dusk’s Warriors by Emerian Rich

We have a guest blogger today, Emerian Rich! She’s going to talk about her new book, Dusk’s Warriors. With no more delay, let me turn my blog over to Emerian.

In Dusk’s Warriors, the goddess of Dusk (Severina), is challenged with building a new heavenly world for her kind. She has inherited the destroyed world from a war that happened in the first book, and because all the old gods are dead, she has to learn to conjure on her own.

When I first imagined the world of Dusk, I saw in my mind’s eye the red rocks of Colorado, crimson and ginger jagged pieces of rock jutting out from the ground like nature’s skyscrapers. But when Severina conjured, she did so with her hands. I couldn’t imagine a being as fluid and sultry as Severina creating anything so harsh. So my mind went to clay and I imagined her carving out each room and balcony with her hands, the motion of it causing ripples or overhangs as she went.

The buildings of Barcelona reflect the look I imagined. Casa Mila (photo courtesy of Angela Estes) is a prime example of architecture that looks hand sculpted, as if god reached down and formed it with his bare hands. The world of Dusk is made of such buildings. Combining the look of Casa Mila and the color of Colorado, Dusk came into being.

Below, read an excerpt of the story where Severina first begins to build:

“And so, My Queen, have you thought about what it will look like?” Reidar asked.

She took a sip of her drink and then stood, looking into the vast void of nothingness before her.

“I thought I’d start with a gateway.” Pacing in front of her sector, a red sandstone archway formed as she spoke. “A ruby sunset for our sky.”

An instant flash of red went up and over them to form the sky. Streaks of orange and yellow ran through it.

“This is going to be fun.” She grinned, stepping onto the red sand road. Pedro and Reidar followed as she conjured rock formations into buildings like a master sculptor.

Severina stopped to stand before a castle of red sandstone and glass. Reidar marveled at its artistic form. The structure stood three stories tall and at first glance, it looked like the red rocks and caves of Colorado, until he noticed glass windows embedded deep in the cave entrances. Unlike some structures Reidar had seen carved into rock, the building surface was smooth and liquid as if Lady Dusk had reached her hands into a vat of modeling clay and pushed in holes for rooms. Reidar watched her conjure, which he’d seen many do during his time in The Garden, but she worked with such grace, like a dancer. She was beauty personified in her thin red dress. It blew back from the wind of creation and showed the perfect curve of her body.

Dusk’s Warriors by Emerian Rich

Heaven has opened up and welcomed the vampires of Night’s Knights into a new reality. As they struggle to find their place in their new world, trouble brews on Earth.

Demon servant, Ridge, is causing havoc by gathering up all the souls on Earth that have been touched by immortality. When he injures one of the Night’s Knights crew, he launches a war between the vampires of Heaven, the Big Bad in Hell, and a mortal street gang of vigilante misfits.

Will Julien, Markham, and Reidar be able to defeat the evil that’s returned, or will they once again need Jespa’s help?

Praise for Dusk’s Warriors:

“All hail, the queen of Night’s Knights has returned! Emerian Rich’s unique take on vampires delights my black little heart.” ~Dan Shaurette, Lilith’s Love

“A world of horror with realistic characters in a fast paced thriller you won’t be able to put down.”

~David Watson, The All Night Library

Praise for Night’s Knights:

“Fresh, original, and thoroughly entertaining.” ~Mark Eller, Traitor

“Emerian brought the Vampire Novel back from the dead.” ~C. E. Dorsett, Shine Like Thunder

Available now at Amazon.com in print and eBook

https://www.amazon.com/Dusks-Warriors-Nights-Knights-Vampire/dp/1544628803

Emerian Rich is an artist, horror host, and author of the vampire series, Night’s Knights. She is the hostess of the internationally acclaimed podcast, HorrorAddicts.net. Under the name Emmy Z. Madrigal, she writes the musical romance series, Sweet Dreams and she’s the Editorial Director for the Bay Area magazine, SEARCH. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and son.

Commas and FANBOYS

comma

Commas, commas everywhere! Yes, I’m talking about everyone’s least-favourite, most-misunderstood bit of punctuation, the lowly comma, yet again.

Here’s a sentence with two variations.

He stomped down the stairs and left the house in a rage.

He stomped down the stairs, and he left the house in a rage.

So what’s the difference? Why does the second have a comma but not the first?

In the first sentence, you do not have a complete phrase (with a subject and a verb) in the second half of the sentence. You have a verb (left) but no subject. In the second, you have both a subject (he) and a verb (left). That’s your first clue that you’ll need a comma.

The second clue is the presence of the conjunction “and,” which is one of the FANBOYS, the conjunctions which call for a comma IF the part of the sentence following said conjunction is complete with subject and verb.

So what are the FANBOYS?

For

And

Nor

But

Or

Yet

So

FANBOYS

I’ve been editing for clients quite a bit lately, and this is one of the most common mistakes I see: putting commas where there isn’t a FANBOYS or not putting one where there is.

It’s one of the easiest errors to correct in your writing, too. An easy mnemonic. An easy search for subjects and verbs.

The man entered his home, and he found his wife waiting for him in the living room.

The man entered his home and found his wife waiting for him in the living room.

She smiled at her husband and gave him the good news.

She smiled at her husband, and she gave him the good news.

Granted, these aren’t great sentences, but they show the FANBOYS in action.

Your Reputation Always Precedes You

Pen and Notepad

To be a professional writer, to gain and keep a good reputation, you need to act like a professional. You can’t blow off responsibility and decorum because you are “a genius.” You just can’t. Don’t tell me that such-and-such fantastic writer spends his days drunk in a hotel room and then churns out brilliant novels in a cocaine fueled haze, misses all his deadlines, spits at publishers, and is beloved by all. Chances are you aren’t a genius – they are not thick on the ground – and I’ll wager his publisher, agent, publicist, and third and soon-to-be-ex-wife are all eagerly awaiting his fatal coronary so they can be rid of him. And write the tell-all book which will expose his nastiness to the world after he’s safely out of it.

So, dear writer, and I need to keep this in mind myself, let’s say you see an open call with the following guidelines: We seek short stories, 2K words max, no zombies, no rape, pedophilia, bestiality. Please don’t send that publisher a 10K novelette about a zombie apocalypse where the villain rapes the 8-year-old girl next door by means of a bull mastiff. I mean, just don’t. And, furthermore, don’t think publishers haven’t seen that story as a result of that sort of open call. More likely, though, if the publisher says “No reprints,” don’t send a reprint. If the publisher wants the story single-spaced in 8 point font, don’t sent it double-spaced in 12 point font.

Say you’ve gotten a contract or are participating in a round robin or other group project. If you say you’ll have your story in by such-and-such a date, do your dead level best to fulfill that promise. As a person who suffers from more than one debilitating illness, I understand that sometimes your body will fail you. Sometimes other life circumstances will get in your way. That’s not what I’m talking about here. Truthfully, sometimes circumstances just stop even the strongest of us from making our goals. Mental, emotional, physical illnesses. Family turmoil. Loss of parents, partners, spouses, children, even jobs. I am not talking about those things. I’m talking about something a good deal more frivolous — and something I see happening with some writers. I am urging you, for the sake of your reputation, not to ditch your obligations because it’s summer and you’d rather be swimming. Do that too many times and you’re apt to find those opportunities drying up.

If you get a bad review, don’t blow up on social media. It’s an opinion. Not everyone will like your work. When you feel as if no one likes your stuff, go to Amazon or Kobo or Barnes & Noble, and look up your favourite book — one you truly love. I’ll bet there are some 1-star reviews on that book which will curl your toes. Opinions. Seriously, everyone’s got one. Thicken your skin.

When you hire an editor, listen to him or her. That doesn’t mean you have to take every suggestion you editor makes. But you need to pay attention. Know why you are rejecting this or that suggestion. Understand why the editor suggested the change.

I usually say, “Treat other people the way you’d like them to treat you.” A very wise Man said that many years ago. Others have said it, too. No one ever said it better.

Reputation matters in business – and in the publishing business it matters a lot.

A Comma Here, A Comma There

Let’s talk about commas, shall we? Not all uses of commas, mind you, because that would take way more time than either of us has and way more space than one wee blog post. Let’s talk about one use only today. It’s one that confuses lots of the writers I work with – and lots of writers whose books I read.

My brother, Frank is a good driver.

My brother Frank is a good driver.

My brother, Frank, is a good driver.

Look at those three sentences. Each one uses the same words. The only variable is the comma. Let’s examine each one in turn.

Number one is wrong. Period. If you do that, stop it. Just stop. You’ve left things unfinished. You began something with that comma and then dropped the ball, fumbled the hand-off, stumbled out of the blocks, whiffed your at-bat, and probably five or six other sports-related phrases I could throw out.

The second sentence shows that the particular brother you mean, Frank, out of your two or more brothers, is a good driver. You might mean that your other brother, George, is a bad driver. And maybe your third brother, Henry, is too young to drive. But Frank, that one particular brother, is a good driver.

Sentence number three indicates that your ONE brother whose name is Frank is a good driver.

If you want to think of it as an equivalency, go ahead because that’ll work, too. Your brother (your only brother) is equivalent to the name Frank, so you set that additional information off with a comma. Your one-brother-of-several Frank is NOT equivalent to the word brother, because you have other brothers as well, so you don’t set his name off with commas.

My stove, that annoying appliance I’m chained to, provides meals for my family.

In this case, the stove is the equivalent of “the annoying appliance I’m chained to,” so – you guessed it – that latter phrase is set off with commas.

My husband, Walter, is the love of my life.

My husband Albert is the love of my life. (My other husband, the one I’m committing bigamy with, isn’t.)

Try these.

Vinnie’s cousin Cleo thought her brother, Michael, hung the stars. (Vinnie has more than one cousin; Cleo has only one brother.)

That dog Sparkles is a huge nuisance .(Well, of course, there’s more than one dog in existence.)

My dog, Sparkles, is a huge nuisance. This time there’s only one dog.

I’ve used simple sentences in these illustrations, but the principle will remain the same, no matter how complex the sentence.