Tag Archives: Serial Killer

Mister 13 by Alicia Dean ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th #Blog #Fri13thStories

Happy Friday the 13th! It’s release day for a series of horror short stories revolving around Friday the 13th. Today, I’m pleased to welcome myself with my story, Mister 13…


Fun Fact:

Bride in hockey mask with meat cleaver


While writing this story, I researched the dates for past Friday the 13ths and used the actual date for each year that was mentioned. One of the dates I used was January 13, 1984…which happens to be the date I got married. And, it was on a Friday the 13th. And, we divorced nearly 13 years later…coincidence or were otherworldly forces at work? 😀 

*** Order the Friday the 13th stories for only 99 cents – grab them now before the price goes up!!! 



Psychologist Giselle Bishop is treating a patient who suffers from friggatriskaidekaphobia, a fear of Friday the 13th. When he was younger, his family was murdered on Friday the 13th by an unknown killer dubbed Mister 13 by the media. Since then, he’s been terrified to leave his house on the dreaded date. She understands his fear because years earlier, her roommate fell victim to Mister 13.

With another Friday the 13th approaching, Giselle convinces him to overcome his fear by facing the very day that paralyzes him, so he reluctantly ventures out. But when she sees a news report that a young woman was found murdered by someone with the same MO as Mister 13, she understands she has made a grave error and her patient is right to believe he is in danger. But he’s not the only one, because now Mister 13 is coming after her.


She answered the call, and Lydia cried out, “Did you hear what happened?”

Dread gripped her. “No, what is it? Are you okay?”

“Someone was killed…in your house. Yours and Darcy’s old house. The girl who lives there now was murdered. Tonight. Someone called it in to the media. Not even 911. They called the news station.”

The sentences rushed out, piling on top of one another in a panicked jumble.

“Oh my God,” Giselle gasped. “That’s horrible. Do they know who did it yet?”

“No,” Lydia said. “But I’m pretty sure it was Mister 13.”

“What? Why do you say that? Are the details the same?”

“I don’t know. They haven’t said much yet.  But, come on, Friday the 13th. At your old house. I just know it was him.”

Giselle grabbed the remote and flipped over to a local news channel. The sportscast was on, but the story scrolled along the bottom, ‘Breaking news, a young woman was found dead in her home after a tip was called in to our station. Details are sketchy at this time, but it appears the victim was stabbed multiple times. Police are not releasing whether they were connected, but thirteen years ago, a young woman was murdered in this same house by an unknown killer. Police suspect it was the work of the serial killer known as Mister 13. Again, we are unsure if this latest killing is by the same person. More details as they become available.’

“Oh God,” Giselle murmured. Her mind went to Everett. She’d finally convinced him to face his fears, to venture out on this dreaded date, and the first time he summons the courage to do so, another tragic murder happens.

“I’m sorry, Lydia. I’ve got to go. Let me know if you learn anything else. Talk to you soon.”

She hung up and dialed Everett. The call went straight to voicemail. “Everett, please call me as soon as you get this. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” She hung up without mentioning the murder. If he was out and heard about it, he’d be terrified.

Fear settled in the pit of her stomach. It was irrational to think something would happen to him…the murder had nothing to do with Everett, but rational or not, she couldn’t quell the worry. And she wouldn’t rest until she knew Everett was okay.




Alicia Dean began writing stories as a child. At age 10, she wrote her first ever romance (featuring a hero who looked just like Elvis Presley, and who shared the name of Elvis’ character in the movie, Tickle Me), and she still has the tattered, pencil-written copy.

Other than reading and writing, her passions are Elvis Presley (she almost always works in a mention of him into her stories) and watching a LOT of television, which she calls research so it doesn’t appear that she’s wasting time.

Website: https://aliciadean.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAliciaDean/

Twitter: @Alicia_Dean_

Instagram: AliciaDeanAuthor

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/alicia-dean

Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/aliciamdean/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/468339.Alicia_Dean


Find all 13 stories at this link: A Friday the 13th Story #3


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The Thirteenth Victim by Mary Coley ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th #Blog #Fri13thStories

Happy 2023! It’s almost release day for a series of horror short stories revolving around Friday the 13th. I will be sharing each story on my post, one per day. Today, I’m pleased to welcome Mary Coley with her story, The Thirteenth Victim…


Fun Fact:



I spent the night as a guest in the house I’ve written about, and decided it would be a locale for future stories! Spirits are lurking everywhere.  

*** Pre-Order the Friday the 13th stories for only 99 cents!!! 


Serial killer Zander Murphee’s hunt for his Thirteenth Victim gets derailed when he moves into a Tulsa mansion and the neighbors come calling. 


As the elevator car inched upward, Zander studied the interior. Padded leather walls on three sides, stained carpet on the floor. The elevator jerked to a stop.

The door remained closed. He punched the OPEN button. Nothing. He punched TWO again. The elevator twitched. 

He punched ONE hoping the contraption would return to the first floor of the house. The low hum of the motor didn’t change. 

Sweat trickled through his eyebrows and into his eyes. His vision blurred. He blinked and peered at the inspection sticker again. Now it appeared to show an inspection date of fifty years ago, not last month. He rubbed his eyes and they stung with his perspiration. 

The elevator lurched. The lightbulb in the sconce flickered once, twice, three times and went out. 

“Freaking elevator. Help!”

He pounded on the wall even though he knew Desiree was long gone. He punched on the flashlight feature of his cell phone and shone it on the elevator’s control panel. He punched each of the keys with no result. The elevator didn’t even twitch. 

Was there an exit panel on the roof? He shone the flashlight up.

A grinning head hung suspended in space above him. A drop of drool eased over the bottom lip of the apparition and fell past his face to the stained carpet at his feet. A wave of  cold air passed over him. He froze in place. More drool cascaded down from the mouth of the distorted wide-eyed face. 



Mary Coley usually writes mysteries. As an early reader with a voracious reader father, she was exposed to horror early on through Edgar Allan Poe, HP Lovecraft and Stephen King. She says that her story, The Thirteenth Victim, was easy to write, and “felt like coming home” in many ways. She recalls that her first penned stories in middle school were horror stories.

Coley set her story in Tulsa, OK, where she has lived for more than 25 years. Her character, Zander Murphee, is an antique dealer and an undiscovered serial killer. Intending to continue his murderous pursuits in a new locale, he relocates to Tulsa and buys an historic oil mansion with the help of Desiree Smythe, a gorgeous realtor who is assisting with a for-sale-by-owner house.

Both the mansion and Desiree meet all his expectations, but all is not as it seems. Zander encounters unwanted visitors to his home on the day he moves in, including insects, rodents, and—he refuses to believe it—ghosts.

Coley has eight published mysteries, a non-fiction children’s book and numerous short stories to her credit. In 2018 she won the Tony Hillerman Award from New Mexico/Arizona books, and was awarded the Oklahoma Book Award for Fiction in 2022 for her mystery, Blood on the Mother Road. Visit her website at https://www.marycoley.com .

The Thirteenth Victim  will appear as a Friday the 13th Story, releasing January 13, 2023 on Amazon as an ebook, and in the anthology of the same name which includes 13 creepy stories by 13 authors.

Find all 13 stories at this link: A Friday the 13th Story #3


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Hell is Empty by Mark Edward Jones ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th #Blog #Fri13thStories

Happy 2023! It’s almost release day for a series of horror short stories revolving around Friday the 13th. I will be sharing each story on my post, one per day. Today, I’m pleased to welcome Mark Edward Jones with his story, Hell is Empty…


Fun Fact:



Three characters in Hell is Empty later play roles in the Detective Henry Ike Pierce series.

*** Pre-Order the Friday the 13th stories for only 99 cents!!! 



The worse monsters are human.

A man’s wife dies unexpectedly in Brno, Czechoslovakia, and his teenage foster daughter, Miomir, comes under suspicion after four of the girl’s classmates die by poisoning. Professor Filíp Nekola must protect his younger wards, siblings brought to him six years earlier when a government assassin, Karanosz Tasev, killed the children’s parents. A detective appears, offering information that Tasev seeks Miomir.

Nekola is detained by the Czech government’s secret police, the StB, and the children are left alone with Miomir and her friends. They witness the teenagers performing a dark ritual to destroy Miomir’s enemies. Filíp Nekola must escape the secret police, rescue the children, and stop the assassin Tasev before he steals another life. The worst monsters are human.

A Friday the 13th Short Story: 13 authors ~ 13 suspenseful stories. Murder and mayhem on Friday the 13th… Find each story in the series on Amazon.


Pipe smoke blanketed Stepan Hrubý’s face. The boy flapped his hands and made a show of waving away the pungent haze.

Filíp Nekola clenched the pipe’s bit with his teeth, pulled off his right glove, and yanked his handkerchief from a pocket. He wiped his eyes, then glanced down at his companion. A smile broke across his face as he stroked the boy’s dark hair. “Three months today, young man. She grew so fond of you and Eliska.” Filíp shook his head and sighed. “My dear Berta.”

Stepan rubbed his hand along the top of the marker’s rough granite stone. “Sorry, Papa Filíp. Remember, though, the best day of the year is coming in twelve days.”

Filíp nodded. “Yes, Christmas is coming, and it will be my first without her.” He wiped a cheek. “But we will try to make it merry.”

The boy pulled his winter cap tighter around his ears. “Yes, sir. It is Lisky’s and my favorite holiday. Why do some people not celebrate?”

“You are speaking of Miomir?”

Stepan frowned, thinking of the older girl the Nekolas had fostered. “She is one, but many stores have nothing in their windows. Lisky says—”

“Never mind. So … where is your sister?”

Stepan shrugged. “She likes to look at the gravestones.”

Eliska emerged through leafless bushes near a marble bench. “I am here.” Stepan’s sister kneeled next to him and examined the dates, touching them as she read. “April 3, 1927, and September 13, 1974. Are those correct?”

“Yes. The stone carver did well.”

“Barunka is a funny name,” Stepan said, then covered his mouth. “Sorry.”

Filíp nodded. “Yes, she did not like it—a family name, I believe, and it is why I called her Berta.”

“I like the black stone,” Eliska said.

“I do, too.” He smiled. “Thank you both for coming with me.”

Stepan smirked. “We wanted to come with you instead of staying with the witch.”

Eliska giggled.

Filíp put a finger to his lips and scowled, determined to act as if he did not feel the same. “No, no. We should not talk about Miomir in such a manner. She is sixteen, and teenagers are rebellious, among other things. I am sure she grieves in her own way.” He took each child’s hand. “My feet are freezing, and I do not doubt yours are, too. Come along. The taxi is waiting.”




Mark retired from higher education finance in 2017 and started writing as a new career. The first of the Detective Henry Ike Pierce series, Peculiar Activities, was published in October 2021. The second in the series, Shadowed Souls, released on Halloween 2022. A Gentleman from the Darkness was his first short story, and his first in a Friday the 13th series.

Find all 13 stories at this link: A Friday the 13th Story #3


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The Devil Sheds a Tear by Robert Herold ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th #Blog #Fri13thStories

Happy 2023! It’s almost release day for a series of horror short stories revolving around Friday the 13th. I will be sharing each story on my post, one per day. Today, I’m pleased to welcome Robert Herold with his story, The Devil Sheds a Tear…


Fun Fact:

Female death asking to keep silence


I imagined some of the Seattle area’s rich and famous (unnamed of course) were actually members of murderous covens!

*** Pre-Order the Friday the 13th stories for only 99 cents!!! 


Hiding from a homicidal coven of modern witches, Steven Metcalf thinks he is safe. The devil-worshipers are not through with him, and a deadly game of cat and mouse ensues. Will joining forces with a witch-hunter save his life?

A Friday the 13th Short Story: 13 authors ~ 13 suspenseful stories. Murder and mayhem on Friday the 13th… Find each story in the series on Amazon.


I made it to the door and yanked the knob with sweaty hands, but it wouldn’t open. I swung around. Ken emerged from beneath a library table across the room. He held the knife. Tim lay flat on his back with a pool of blood around his head. Though I’d never been violent in the past, I hoped I’d killed him.

            Ken strode over to the body and commanded, “Get up.”

            Tim stood. He straightened his nose, fetched two teeth from the floor, and reinserted them. Then he lifted the hem of his robe and swiped blood from his face. He looked at me and grinned. “Naughty, naughty.”





Robert Herold has had a fascination with horror since he was a child and his mother refused to allow him to watch creature features on tv. She caved in (well, not literally). Herold hopes his books give you the creeps in the best way possible. 


Robert Herold (@RobertHerold666) / Twitter

Bob Herold (@robertheroldauthor666) • Instagram photos and videos

Robert Herold | Facebook

Amazon.com: Robert Herold: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle

Robert Herold Books – BookBub


Find all 13 stories at this link: A Friday the 13th Story #3


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Stripes by Chris Farris ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th #Blog #Fri13thStories

Happy 2023! It’s almost release day for a series of horror short stories revolving around Friday the 13th. I will be sharing each story on my post, one per day. Today, I’m pleased to welcome Chris Farris with his story,  Stripes…

Interesting Fact:


The first version of “Stripes,” written years ago, was a rather vanilla “war in Iraq” military story based upon real life characters I knew during my time in the Arkansas Army National Guard. Those characters have changed significantly in this story, so no risk of meeting a real Josiah should you choose to visit the Natural State. Their accents, cares and personalities, however, live on.

“They Call Me Beaver,” the original story, did not have the punch that I was looking for but, after a night of tossing and turning, it occurred to me that with some changes it might make a fine story of mayhem and murder. In Beaver (Josiah) I had the character I wanted, but I needed a hook, something strange and menacing. My granddaughter and I had just visited Turpentine Creek, a local Arkansas big cat rescue park, and the way one of those tigers looked at us gave me all the inspiration I needed. Still, the problem remained, how to put a tiger in a combat zone? That proved to be easier than I suspected.

Perhaps the most far-fetched part of my story, the Baghdad tiger, is based on reality. During the 2003 invasion of Iraq, the Baghdad Zoo was partially destroyed. The zoo workers, fearing for their lives, suspended the feeding and care of the 650+ animals living there. During their absence, the zoo was looted, cages were opened, herd animals were stolen and eaten by a hungry populace and multiple predators (including twenty-three lions) were released into the city. Of the original animals (including Mandor, a 20-year-old Siberian tiger owned by Uday Hussein,) only 35 survived their wartime ordeal. The U.S. military rounded up many of the escaped lions using armored fighting vehicles and returned all but four to their captivity. Those that would not return were killed.

The wildlife community responded quickly once the situation was known. South African conservationist, Lawrence Anthony traveled with two assistants into the heart of the danger zone to bring relief to the remaining animals. The U.S. Army assumed command of the zoo, stopping the looting and vandalism and providing a secure place for Mr. Anthony and other volunteers from the Thula Thula game reserve, Wildaid, Care for the Wild International, and IFAW to work.

The zoo reopened in 2003 following improvements and renovations by U.S. Army engineers. It was populated by eighty-six animals, including the surviving nineteen lions as well as tigers, brown bears, wolves, foxes, jackals, camels, ostriches, badgers and some primates that had been collected from the Hussein family’s private menageries.

So “Stripes” is a strange amalgamation of personal military experience and a surreal story of war-time collateral damage. If you are interested in the whole story of the Baghdad Zoo, see Lawrence Anthony and Graham Spence’s book, Babylon’s Ark. As a side note, during an ill-considered 2003 party held in the zoo a U.S. Army Sergeant had his arm severely mauled by one of the captive tigers. The animal was consequently shot multiple times and bled to death in its cage.

Life is, sometimes, stranger (and sadder) than fiction.


*** Pre-Order the Friday the 13th stories for only 99 cents!!! 



Meet Josiah Poopart, high school dropout, construction worker and part time soldier. His friends call him Jo, most everyone else calls him Beaver (because of his buck teeth.) He’s in love with a stripper named Cinnamon and enjoys reading hard-boiled fiction with his best friend, Harmon. He’d tell you he lives a pretty good life, even though his daddy left when he was young, and his momma got blown up in a freak mobile home accident. Everything else is working out fine. The only fly in his ointment is that everyone around him keeps dying. It’s inconvenient, but what can you do? They say those with thirteen letters in their name are cursed. But Josiah doesn’t see it that way. As far as he’s concerned, one man’s bad luck is another’s good fortune. And fortune, somehow, always favors Josiah.

A Friday the 13th Short Story: 13 authors ~ 13 suspenseful stories. Murder and mayhem on Friday the 13th… Find each story in the series on Amazon.


“Then you killed him and Roger!” Her words came out as a hoarse shriek. She sounded like an oversized crow. It made me jump.

“I never did.” I yelled back.

She whipped around with a giant butcher knife she’d got from the block. “The stupid sheriff may not believe it, but I know you did it. I saw you out by his Jeep. You—you—” She took a big hitching sob and slapped the tears from her cheeks. When she spoke again, she was real quiet and real mean. “You get the hell out of my house, you little pervert, or I’ll stab you through the heart.”

I thought about arguing, but she lurched toward me from the counter. Not fast, but steady-like. She had a look in her eye that told me she meant it. I ain’t afraid of much, but like I said earlier, that woman had a way of coming at you that could be intimidating. At that moment, I don’t think I meant more to her than a cockroach you step on and kick to the corner. That knife looked sharp, too. I didn’t figure I wanted to bleed out on her kitchen floor, so…I split.

Like I said, that was the last time I saw her and, of course, I didn’t end up finding out where Cinnamon went.

I guess that argument sparked Mrs. Smith’s interest in food again. When they found her dead on the kitchen floor, she’d shoved most of an apple pie down her gullet. She’d got it all the way back behind her tongue and packed her throat solid with apples and sugar crust. She’d smeared it all on her cheeks and it had dripped down the front of her rooster dress. She’d even got it in her eyes and up her nose. She was a mess. The coroner ruled it accidental death. He said it was asphyxiation by airway obstruction. Death by apple pie. That’s just sad.



Christopher Farris lives in a very old, very small house in a very old, very small town nestled deep in a valley of the Boston Mountains of Northwest Arkansas. His novels, The Fountain, and Intersection: A Trucker’s Christmas Carol are available at Amazon.com, as are his Friday the 13th short stories.


Find all 13 stories at this link: A Friday the 13th Story #3


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Eyes to Die For by DJ FitzSimons ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th #Blog #Fri13thStories

Happy 2023! It’s almost release day for a series of horror short stories revolving around Friday the 13th. I will be sharing each story on my post, one per day. Today, I’m pleased to welcome DJ FitzSimons with her story,  Eyes to Die For…

Fun Fact:

I am from a neighboring town of the one used in my story.



*** Pre-Order the Friday the 13th stories for only 99 cents!!! 



James Bucknall can get any woman he wants with one sultry look from his bewitching blue eyes. Handsome, charming, and clean-cut, he’s the epitome of a GQ guy. James is also a maniacal serial killer, who murders women as casually as he dates them. At least that is his modus operandi until he meets Frankie Wilson.

There’s something entrancing about the sad, young woman, that has captivated James’s interest, and right now, she is more appealing alive rather than dead. The surprising discovery of Frankie’s connection to James’s last victim, Charlie, arouses the killer’s interest to unexpected heights.

And that’s when Charlie’s ghost decides to intervene.


Tonight, I’m on the hunt, but I can’t seem to get into it. I’ve danced with a couple of women who look like they spent hours getting ready to come out here, but they’re just not doing it for me. I’m just leaving the dance floor with yet another bimbo, where I feel someone’s eyes on me. Instinct makes me stop and look up.

A blonde. Nothing special, but she’s pretty in a natural kind of way, though it’s tough to see as the lighting isn’t great right here. But even in the dimness I can clearly see she’s on the hook.

I ditch my dance partner at the bar. She doesn’t seem to care as there are already horny, jock-types angling to get her attention. Mine’s shifted to the girl I just saw. I plan to find her.




DJ is originally from London. She currently publishes short stories which are set in various parts of the U.K.

Website https://www.judebayton.com

Twitter https://twitter.com/JudeBayton

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/jude.bayton.9

Instagram https://www.instagram.com/judebayton/


Find all 13 stories at this link: A Friday the 13th Story #3


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Avenging Angel by Michelle Godard-Richer ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th #Blog #Fri13thStories

Happy 2023! It’s almost release day for a series of horror short stories revolving around Friday the 13th. I will be sharing each story on my post, one per day. Today, I’m pleased to welcome Michelle Godard-Richer with her story,  Avenging Angel…

Fun Fact:

A car boot on white background

For this story, I researched the inner workings of the car trunk, including how spacious they are.

*** Pre-Order the Friday the 13th stories for only 99 cents!!! 


A Friday the 13th Short Story: 13 authors ~ 13 suspenseful stories. Murder and mayhem on Friday the 13th…Find each story in the series on Amazon.

On Friday the 13th, sweet college student and barista, Maya Pendleton, leaves Rowena’s Coffee to walk home alone. The streets of Gideon’s Hollow are empty. The locals believe the spirits of the witches from nearby Salem roam on this cursed night, seeking revenge on the descendants of those who burnt them at the stake.

Maya’s lonely footsteps echo through the empty street in a steady rhythm until they’re interrupted by another pair. They belong to Rand Roosevelt¾an evil man with murder on his mind. But he picks the wrong night, the wrong victim, and he messes with the wrong witch.


Maya’s eyes fluttered open to reveal darkness. The floor moved beneath her as a waft of exhaust fumes turned her stomach.

Where am I?

She shifted her head and the world tilted as a sharp pain shot through her head from the base of her skull, jogging her memory.

The creep from the coffee shop. What an ass!

Maya moved to reach around the back of her head to assess the damage. Her elbow hit something hard. Her funny bone tingled, then her heart pounded in her ears as the smallness of the space suffocated her.

The urge to panic was almost impossible to resist, but she needed to resist to have any chance of escaping this horrible predicament.

She rolled onto her back. A handle glowed above her head in the darkness. She stuck her hands out and moved them along a hard surface, and the horrid reality of her situation became clear.

Metal. He stuck me in the trunk of a car!

Her breathing accelerated. Her thoughts scrambled like a puddle of eggs, and she gasped for air. She forced deep breaths into her lungs and her brain cleared.

Maya reached around the back of her head, careful not to smack her elbow again, and ran her hand over a large bump below her ponytail. Her hair wasn’t sticky, so thankfully, she had no open wound to contend with. But considering she’d lost consciousness and the lingering dizziness; she must be concussed.

Once more, her gaze shifted to the glowing handle over her head once more.

A trunk release!

She tugged on the handle, and nothing happened. With the handle in her grasp, she pushed on the trunk with her feet at the same time. Nothing.

Her captor must have anticipated that means of escape and disconnected the handle. Not escaping, giving up, and dying at age twenty wasn’t an option. Her mother must already be losing her mind with worry and Maya was all she had.

Now what?



Michelle Godard-Richer is a Criminology graduate with a passion for crime, human behavior, and the written word. She is also a thriller and romance author living in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains in Alberta, Canada. She writes edge-of-your-seat, suspenseful stories with strong protagonists and diabolical villains.

Links: http://www.michellegodardricherauthor.com

Twitter: @MGodardRicher

Facebook: Michelle Godard-Richer Author

Instagram: michellegodardricherauthor

TikTok: @mgodardricher

Find all 13 stories at this link: A Friday the 13th Story #3


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How to Trap a Soul by Tamrie Foxtail ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th

Please help me welcome Tamrie Foxtail with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series,  How to Trap a Soul...

Interesting Fact:


Growing up I had a friend named Mary. We lived one street apart from the time I was seven.

My Junior year of high school I was walking down the hall when another friend ran up to me and said, “Did you hear about Mary? She was murdered last night!” Kids on their way to school had found her body in a field.

That was the year I began to think about murder. I couldn’t help wondering what went through the mind of both the killer and their victim. I’ve often wondered at what point my friend realized the person she was with intended to strangle her to death. What were her thoughts? Did her life flash before her eyes? Was she filled with thoughts of her family? Her infant daughter? Was there time to regret the things she would never have a chance to do?

What goes through the mind of the killer? Is there a moment when they think “I could stop. I don’t have to do this.”

I married a Federal Police Officer, so talk of murder was common in our house. Even so, all these years later, I’m still haunted by the memory of my childhood friend who had her life and her future stolen from her.



He only kills women who have thirteen letters in their name; so why is he after Melissa Richardson?

After Lissa’s roommate is murdered, she becomes convinced the killer is after her. The police are quick to point out that Lissa doesn’t quite fit the profile of the Number Thirteen Killer’s victims, but she can feel him watching her.

He collects the souls of beautiful young women. He knows something special about Lissa—something that makes her soul more precious than most. All the others have been leading up to her. Her soul will be the jewel of his collection.

Lissa’s right to be frightened. The killer is someone close to her—and he’s moving closer.


“You’re very beautiful,” he said as his hands tightened around her throat.

She clawed at him as he knew she would, but the gloves and flannel protected his skin.

One bright red fingernail popped off.

He kept up the pressure. Her hands fell away. She began sinking to her knees. He followed her down, letting up on the pressure—just a little—enough to allow some small amount of oxygen to reach her brain. He pulled the mirror from his pocket and set it on the ground.

Again, his fingers dug into her neck, cutting off blood flow and oxygen, this time for good.

Her breath ceased; her body slumped.

He let go of her and picked up the compact, turning it this way and that until he caught a thin, smoky wisp darting to one side.

Ah, there it was. Her soul.

About the Author…


Tamrie Foxtail was raised in the sunshine state. She married the best man she ever met, an Okie who brought her to the Sooner State. As soon as she recovered from a rather serious case of culture shock, she fell in love with Oklahoma and its people.

She loves books, carousels, scrapbooking, and coffee. She works with the special education program in her local school district.

Tamrie is published with The Wild Rose Press and is a member of Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc. and Central Region Oklahoma Writers.


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Blood and Breakast by me…Alicia Dean. :) A ‘Friday the 13th Story’

Happy Friday the 13th!! Welcome to the thirteenth and final post about a brand new series of 13 suspenseful “Friday the 13th” short stories, each by a different author.

Today, I am happy to share my Friday the 13th Short Story, “Blood and Breakfast” – Now available for sale for $1.99 or #FREE on #KindleSelect

AND…be sure to check out our contest:

Enter to win 13 FREE books brought to you by our 13 Friday the 13th authors. See contest link HERE for details.

Fun Fact:

I was plotting my story and trying to figure out why a normal family man would suddenly snap and murder his family. I realized that hallucinations could cause people to do crazy things, so I researched what could make people hallucinate. I discovered that the plant, jimson weed, can cause serious hallucinations. I also wanted to incorporate some kind of an authentic local legend in my story, so I researched legends in various states and came across the Devil’s Footrock in Rhode Island.  I was able to mesh the two–jimson weed and the Devil’s Footrock–to come up with how the husband/father in my story lost his mind and killed his family. It’s so much fun when ideas click and make a story come together. Here’s a photo of Devil’s Foot Rock:

Cool, right? You can learn about the legend surrounding the footprint by reading my story. Or, you can just google it 🙂

Now, more about Blood and Breakfast…


Determined to boost the sagging ratings of her internet radio show, “A Dark Place,” murder junkie Sasha Gillette checks into the Talley House Bed and Breakfast in North Kingston, Rhode Island. She and her co-host plan to broadcast an episode about the murders that took place there thirteen years earlier on a Friday the 13th, when a man butchered his entire family.

Not long after Sasha arrives, the other guests begin to disappear. Has a killer from the past resurfaced or is there a copycat on the loose?

One of the lone survivors, Sasha finds herself trapped with a sadistic killer and, suddenly, murder isn’t as much fun as she thought.


The bedside lamp glowed, but the room was cast in shadows. The door to the balcony stood open, and the sheer drapes fluttered in the cool breeze. Juliana wrapped her arms around her body and strode over to close the sliding glass doors.

She paced the wooden floor, clenching and unclenching her fists. “The bitch. The little whore.” A knot formed in her throat, and she swiped at the tears streaking her cheeks. “And, the sorry son of a bitch. How could he? On our honeymoon?”

She continued to pace and curse, then took her phone from the nightstand and fired off a text to Bradley.

Sleep on the fucking couch tonight, you sorry piece of shit. I don’t want to see your face.

For a brief moment, she regretted sending it and wished she could take it back. But that lasted only a moment. His return text shattered her heart.

Fine by me. Fuck off.

The sobs that had been building broke free. She dropped to the bed and covered her face in her hands. Her soul felt like it was ripping in two. How did things go so wrong so fast? She thought he loved her. That he would fight for her. Instead, the first slut he encountered, he became a cheating asshole.

A sound penetrated her consciousness, and she sniffled back her tears. The door swung inward. In spite of her fury, her heart lifted. She stood and faced the door as she waited for Bradley to enter. Should she play it cool and make him beg? Or should she forgive him and put this behind them. Start anew?

She took a step toward the door as he entered, then froze. The man standing inside the room was not Bradley. She knew this because he was taller than Bradley, bigger. Besides, why would Bradley be wearing a ski mask?

“Who—who are you?” Her voice quivered. “What do you want?”

He stalked across the room and clapped a gloved hand over her mouth. With his other hand, he gripped her neck and squeezed. She tried to speak but could only make a gurgling sound. Her skin tightened with fear, and her stomach quivered. Terror seized her insides. She grabbed his wrists, clawing at his flesh, trying to loosen his grip. Her hands, slippery with sweat, couldn’t get a good hold.

In the murky semi-darkness, something metallic flashed in her vision. Oh God…a knife.

His hot breath wafted over her neck as he whispered into her ear, “We’re going for a walk. Make one sound, and I’ll slice you open from neck to navel.”


Filed under Author Blog Post

Fatal Legacy by Krysta Scott… A ‘Friday the 13th Story’

Happy Friday the 13th!! Welcome to the twelfth of my posts about a brand new series of 13 suspenseful “Friday the 13th” short stories, each by a different author.

Today, I am happy to share Krysta Scott’s “Fatal Legacy” – Now available for sale for $1.99 or #FREE on #KindleSelect

AND…be sure to check out our contest:

Enter to win 13 FREE books brought to you by our 13 Friday the 13th authors. See contest link HERE for details.


Fun Fact:

When I was a child I used to visit an arboretum. I loved the forests, gardens, and grasslands. The only thing it didn’t have was a hedge maze. It should have had one. So I gave the arboretum in Fatal Legacy a hedge maze and let my characters run wild in them.


Veronica Wiseman wants nothing more than a quiet life as an appellate attorney But. a serial killer is on the loose in her small town, destroying everything she holds dear. The people she cares about are in danger, and her childhood memories have turned dark. She soon learns that her sister’s death was not an accident and that her husband cannot be trusted.

As she tries to make sense of the tangled mess her life has become, a murderer draws closer. And it appears she is next on his kill list.


Skeletal fingers of lightning crossed the sky, illuminating her path. For a moment, she feared she was running in the wrong direction. Then she saw it. The small indentation in the farthest hedge. Encouraged, she sped up. Her feet slipped on the gravel, and she stumbled into the bushes. She grabbed onto the slender branches, attempting to gain traction, but her knees buckled, and she swayed into the bush. Steadying herself, she leaned into the fullest part of the bush and pushed off. She stumbled to the center of the path—just as a large blade shoved through.

“Oh my, that was close, wasn’t it?” The eerie voice mocked her.

Gasping, she ran, the frightening laughter following her down the pathway.

Too close.

Adrenaline fueled her with renewed purpose. She flew across the gravel. The narrow passage loomed ahead. A place where the bushes didn’t quite grow together at the corner. Not usually noticeable to an adult but obvious to a twelve-year-old child, crawling on her belly in an attempt to hide from her sisters. Still there. Her breath whooshed from her in relief. It was just as she remembered.

“What are you doing there, Lorelei?” That chuckle again.

It sent icy shards over her skin.

“Had enough? Stymied?”

Her hand flew to her mouth, and she froze. It was like he was right behind her instead of on the other side of a line of thick shrubs.

She fell on her hands and knees. Answering him would be a futile effort. He already knew where she was, and it would be worse to let him know what she was doing. Grabbing the nearest branch, she dragged herself into the small gap between the bushes. Her hips hit a higher branch, wedging her body between the ground and shrub. Stuck! She couldn’t go any farther. The last time she’d attempted this she wasn’t even in a training bra. She’d been so thin she could slide through a leaky sieve. Now, puberty had endowed her with full hips. Her heart thudded.

She had to make it through the opening. Her life depended on it. She tugged harder. With a sickening scrape along the gravel, she moved a little farther. Biting her lip, she slipped along the mud in slow motion—trapped in one of those nightmares where you can’t run. She needed more time.



Krysta Scott has always been a daydreamer, imagining worlds far away with happy endings. When she was in fifth grade, she was so caught up in fantasy she earned the dubious distinction of being named the girl who daydreams the most. The award for this questionable honor was a colorful transparent plastic poster made to look like stained glass. It was very cool. Given her flights of fancy, it came as no surprise to her family when she announced she was going to be an actress. Unfortunately, her pursuit into theater didn’t last long, because she was too withdrawn and shy to exhibit any talent in this area. Left with no other choice but to pursue a more practical avocation, she decided to major in psychology and then go to law school. Not able to let go of the worlds she created in her head, she returned to writing and was very excited when the Wild Rose Press contacted her first book.


Filed under Author Blog Post