Tag Archives: #shortstory

Witch Ever Way You Go by Robert Herold ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th

Please help me welcome Robert Herold with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series,  Witch Ever Way You Go

Fun Fact

Witch Ever Way You Go is set in the Seattle area where I live. There is a bit of rivalry between Seattle proper and the suburban areas. Playing with this idea, I envisioned two rival covens, one in Seattle, the other in the wealthy suburb of Baalberith. (Baalberith is the name for a powerful demon who tempts people to engage in blasphemy and murder. Heck, there is a Diablo Dam and Diablo Lake in Washington State. Diablo means devil, so I didn’t think it was much of a stretch to call a Seattle suburb Baalberith!)

I used many other actual locations for the story: the University of Washington, the 520 Bridge (which was under construction in 2015, when the book is set) and neighborhoods on Capitol Hill. One of my favorite places was a decrepit but awesome Victorian house. Here’s a picture of it:

I have a wonderfully grisly scene in that place! I had planned to do an Instagram reel in front of the house to promote my story. Unfortunately, I just discovered it has turned into something really scary:

Bonus fun fact:

As a boy, Robert Herold wanted nothing more than to grow up to be a werewolf. (Is there any wonder why he writes horror?)

Blurb

When an ill-fated graduate student and his girlfriend are lured into a terrifying world of witchcraft and murder, they become targets for human sacrifice. Is there a chance they can escape a bloodthirsty coven of witches and certain death until the curse is lifted? A spellbinding story of modern horror.

Snippet: 

The crowd in the room became more animated, their voices rising until they were shouting. The man standing over the woman turned one way then the other, presenting the dagger. As the crowd continued the deafening chant, he raised the blade as high as possible, then thrust it down, just below the woman’s left breast. He yanked the knife free, and a fountain of blood sprayed over the man’s robe and white tuxedo. The crowd erupted in ecstasy.

My stomach turned in revulsion. We had been flirting just a few minutes earlier, and now she was dead. “Holy fuck.”

About the Author: 

The supernatural always had the allure of forbidden fruit, ever since my mother refused to allow me, as a boy, to watch creature features on late night TV. She caved in. (Well, not literally.)

As a child, fresh snow provided me with the opportunity to walk out onto neighbors’ lawns halfway and then make paw prints with my fingers as far as I could stretch. I would retrace the paw and boot prints, then fetch the neighbor kids and point out that someone turned into a werewolf on their front lawn. (They were skeptical.)

I have pursued many interests over the years (among them being a history teacher and a musician), but the supernatural always called to me. You could say I was haunted. Finally, following the siren’s call as an adult, I began writing horror.

Ultimately, I hope my books give you the creeps, and I mean that in the best way possible.

https://www.amazon.com/Witch-Ever-Way-You-Go-ebook/dp/B09V714SSF

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/60624641-witch-ever-way-you-go

https://www.bookbub.com/books/witch-ever-way-you-go-a-friday-the-13th-story-by-robert-herold

https://www.amazon.com/Robert-Herold/e/B07YW82TLR/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1

Contact info and social media links:

email@robertheroldauthor.com

https://www.robertheroldauthor.com

https://www.instagram.com/robertheroldauthor666/

https://www.facebook.com/bob.herold.31/

https://twitter.com/RobertHerold666

https://www.facebook.com/Fri13thShortStories/

 

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Deadly Illusions by Anna Kittrell ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th

Please help me welcome Anna Kittrell with the next story in the Friday the 13th Series,  Deadly Illusions…

Fun Fact

 A skilled magician (not unlike a skilled writer) can suspend reality, causing the audience to escape into a different realm. Illusionists emit a sense of danger. They captivate and control, challenging us to believe the unbelievable. And who can keep their eyes from that sexy, scantily-clad assistant who drifts and twirls across the stage before succumbing to the handsome magician’s sinister tricks? Add in some mysterious music and billowing smoke—and wow. That’s entertainment! However, magic is predominantly a men’s profession, with less than 8 percent of magicians being female.

While writing Deadly Illusions, my goal was to have the book’s heroine embody the same commanding power and sensuality I’ve seen exhibited in male illusionists. The end result was Melinda Sloan, a beautiful independent woman with a love for magic that sadly, is rivaled only by her love of alcohol. I enjoyed writing a strong main character with real life struggles, who ultimately triumphs when faced with her demons. And the researching of magic tricks and viewing of wildly talented illusionists on YouTube while crafting Melinda’s stage performances was an exciting and unexpected bonus!

Blurb

 When Melinda Sloan’s dream of becoming a professional illusionist comes true, she’s headed for the bigtime—maybe even Vegas. But when a dangerous illusion goes wrong, killing her assistant and closest friend, Celine, Melinda’s dream turns into a nightmare—and a whiskey bottle turns into a friend. Hopeless, she vows to give up magic forever. However, when Melinda is evicted from the family home, her sister, Julia, convinces her to return to magic—and is dead set on being her assistant. Before long, Melinda is onstage in Las Vegas, doing what she loves most. But when her booking agent demands Melinda perform the very trick that caused Celine’s death, Melinda’s refusal results in a breach of contract. Julia persuades her to do the trick—penniless and unemployed, she can’t afford not to. But as she faces the sword-riddled cabinet that holds Julia, her blood runs cold. Is her baby sister lifeless and bleeding inside the sword box? Has she murdered Julia, the way she murdered Celine? Or is the magician being tricked?

Snippet: 

Melinda raised the final sword high in the air, twirled it, then rammed it partially into the box, feeling for Celine’s tug on the blade. With the weight of the audience’s stares on her, seconds felt like hours. What was taking Celine so long?

Finally, she felt a slight tug.

Didn’t she?

The booze swirled in her stomach, making her sweat. She grunted, pretending to struggle as she shoved the sword further into the box—then struggling for real as the blade met with resistance.

The music reached a maddening crescendo, each chord striking a nerve in Melinda’s pounding head.

How much time had passed?

The whiskey clawed at her throat as the room spun.

Just then, she felt a definite tug on the sword blade. Relief flooded her soul. Celine must’ve had a bit of trouble navigating the final blade around the others.

What had it been—five seconds? Ten at most?

Melinda shoved the sword down with all her might, feeling no resistance from Celine. The sword slipped easily through the box, into position.

Confidence soaring, Melinda placed a hand on the box and pranced in a slow circle, turning the platform, showing the spectators every side. She faced the box toward the audience.

Time to retrieve the swords and open the box. She loved this part. Celine would be sitting straight up, beautiful as ever, without a scratch on her. The audience would go wild, like they always did.

Melinda removed the first sword, followed by the others, saving the sword jutting from the top of the box for last. Grasping the handle with both hands and closing her eyes, she made a show of slowly pulling the sword from the opening, Excalibur-style, and holding it above her head.

The music stopped. Shocked cries punched through the silence as something warm dripped onto her face.

“Blood!” Someone shouted.

Who was cruel enough to yell out a thing like that? Sick bastard. The horrible word stuck to her, burning like hot tar.

Sweat rolled down her forehead, into her eyes and mouth. It tasted like whiskey. No. It tasted like blood.

About the Author: 

Anna Kittrell resides in the same small Oklahoma town where she grew up, and has been a secretary at Anadarko Middle School for over twenty years. She married her high-school sweetheart, raised two children, and has an eight-year-old grandson who is her very best friend.  She has written for as long as she can remember and still has many of her tattered childhood creations—stories she used to sell on the playground for a dime, penned on notebook paper. Her love of storytelling has grown throughout the years, and she is thrilled her tales are now worth more than ten cents.

www.annakittrellauthor.com

https://www.facebook.com/AKittrell

https://www.amazon.com/Anna-Kittrell/e/B009OWBPMM?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1648916080&sr=8-1

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Skadegamutc: Monster in the Mirror by Diane L. Kowalyshyn ~ A Friday the 13th Story Series ~ #Fridaythe13th

Happy Friday the 13th! It’s 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 Diane L. Kowalyshyn with her story,  Skadegamutc: Monster in the Mirror…

Fun Fact:

 

I’m fascinated my Native American mythological creatures. I wrote about the windigo in Crossbones, the skadegamutc in a Friday the 13th Short Story, and the chepitchcalm in When the Earth Moves (WIP). There are two more Native American creatures I’ll be bringing to life in the Earth, Wind and Fire series sequels.

Blurb:

Officer Pauline McCrory arrives at Alma Wildberry’s cabin under the impression the elder died of natural causes before her hungry one-eyed cat consumed parts of her face.

When the medical examiner rules the case a homicide, Pauline must determine who drained six pints of blood and removed a pound of flesh from Alma’s head and neck.

The investigation brings an age-old Passamaquoddy legend, the Skadegamutc to life, and Pauline must find the ghost-witch before it kills again.

Snippet:

Bob. Alma’s one-eyed cat. A bad eye infection forced the local farm vet to remove the diseased orb and sew up the empty orifice. “Hi Bob,” Birdie exclaimed, just to break the sinister silence in the room. “Where’s Alma?”

Bob didn’t pay any attention. He waddled toward the kitchen and disappeared behind the center island separating the two rooms.

A stale smell, like rotting garbage, wafted from the kitchen.  Many locals used a compost heap for table scraps and burned what little garbage they generated. Her footfalls slowed when she noticed broken glass shimmering like sparkle dust on the floor. Slivers crunched underfoot, despite her trying to avoid them.

The antique mirror hanging on the wall between the bedrooms and the kitchen had fallen to the floor. A shattered bulls-eye of beveled glass leaned against the baseboard. Alma loved that mirror. She loved finding and restoring treasures from tag sales and repurposing them.

Bob started to meow. Soon it turned into languishing yowls. The cat had to be hungry.

Birdie’s progress ground to a halt.

Maybe Alma had gone out to gather mushrooms or flowers and herbs to pulverize and dry, but it didn’t make sense she would leave the broken mirror on the floor. It made Birdie worry that Bob might cut himself so she jumped to attention. She’d sweep up the flakes of glass and take the smelly garbage to the compost before Alma returned. She bee-lined for the closet beside the fridge and pulled out the broom and dust bin. When she spun, she saw a pair of moccasin clad feet—feet that had been previously obstructed by the position of the island—jutting out from the end. Bob sat hunched over Alma’s face gnawing on what remained of her nose.

“Oh, my God, no.” The broom and dust bin clattered to the floor and she ran toward her friend.

Birdie’s stomach roiled when she got closer. It sent her reeling over to the sink where she wretched up the remains of her lunch. Several bouts of nausea assailed her. She splashed some water on her cheeks and forehead and when the heaving subsided, she reached into her pocket and dialed.

“911. What’s your emergency?”

“Alma Thornberry is dead. I found her body in her kitchen. I think she’s been gone a while because her cat’s been eating her.”

About the Author:

Diane L. Kowalyshyn writes heart-hammering, high-voltage thrillers—adventures that run on action, intrigue, and romance. Her first book earned a Master of Fine Arts degree in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University. She is an avid sailor who’s listened to her fair share of marine storm warnings and relied on the intermittent pulse of a lighthouse beacon to bring her safely back to port. When she’s not on the water, she loves to travel to faraway lands where she navigates rustic landscapes and meanders through ancient and decaying palaces, and castles. Her books are available in paperback and ebook through Chapters/Indigos, Amazon, Google, Nook, iBook, and Kobo.

http://www.dianelkowalyshyn.com

Crossover, March 2021 (Goodreads)
Double Cross, August 2021 (Goodreads)

Crossbones, February 2022 (Goodreads)

Skadegamutc: Monster in the Mirror by Diane L. Kowalyshyn https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09V5RD8VJ

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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…

Blurb:

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.

Excerpt:

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.”

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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.

Blurb:

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.

Excerpt:

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.

 

Bio:

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.

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Shattered Reflections by Tamrie Foxtail… A ‘Friday the 13th Story’

Hello and welcome to the eleventh 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 Tamrie Foxtail’s “Shattered Reflections” – Now available for pre-order…releasing tomorrow, Nov 13.

Fun Fact:

The idea for the ruins of the family home came from a place we used to hang out as teens. It was an old, abandoned house in a small wooded area. The windows and doors were long gone. There was a big hole where a septic tank had been. We had a friend from another neighborhood visiting. We took her there one night. There was a full moon. I told her the place was haunted. The house had been abandoned after an entire family was murdered and the hole in the ground was where they had been buried. My friend, Carol, was nodding her head, confirming everything I said and adding details here and there. We frightened her so much, she took off down the path and refused to come back. No matter how much we tried, we never could convince her that I made the whole thing up.

Blurb:

Cassidy Dupree’s calm, predictable life is turned upside down when she walks into her sister’s home to find an empty house and a shattered mirror.

Cassidy thought her sister and brother-in-law had a good marriage, the kind she hoped to have one day, right up until her brother-in-law walked out on Kathryn. She thought she knew everything about Kathryn, until the moment she vanished and the secrets exploded.

Now her sister’s killer has turned his attention to Cassidy.

Excerpt:

            She’d always loved nighttime storms, tucked in her bed, warm and safe while the thunder rolled closer, making the air itself vibrate. The cadence of the rain, pounding against the roof was both a lullaby and a parade drummer. She would open the curtains and wait for the lightning to race across the dark sky, opening it up with a brilliant flash, leaving in its wake a negative image that hovered in the night for a second or two.

            But a storm when she lay curled up safe in her bed and a storm approaching when she was outside in the darkness with a killer on the loose were two very different things.

            Cassidy shivered as the storm rolled closer. She parked her car near the bridge, hesitated a moment, then got out, beeping the lock closed and walking along the park’s jogging path for the short distance until she came to the bridge. She reached into her pocket, felt her phone, familiar and reassuring.

            In the middle of the bridge a man stood silhouetted.

            “Hello, Cassidy,” he called. She recognized the voice from the phone call.

Cassidy started up the old wooden foot bridge. The boards sank a little every time she stepped on one, old wood turned soft through the years.

            Thunder rumbled off to the east.

            “Don’t worry,” he said. “The storm’s still several miles away.”

            She came a few steps closer. “I’m here. In the park in the middle of the night with a storm approaching. You can at least tell me your name.”

            “Jeff White.”

            The name zinged through her memory. “Kathryn had a friend named Jeff. They used to meet for lunch.”

            “Yes. I told you, we’d meet at The Oasis.”

            She walked a little farther up the bridge, hearing the slats creak. She rested one palm lightly on the rough wooden handrail, took another step.

            Cassidy’s heart flew to her throat as her right foot sank into nothing. She twisted, grabbing at the old rail with both hands. Splinters dug into her palms and the rail shook. Her left knee slammed against the spongy slats.

 

Bio:

Tamrie grew up in the sunshine state and came to Oklahoma when her Okie husband decided to move back home. As soon as she recovered from a rather serious case of culture shock, she fell in love with Oklahoma and the people. A former small town librarian, she now works at a local high school. She loves carousels, Shelties, soap making, scrapbooking and reading. She currently shares her home with the world’s most stuck up (and lovable) cat.

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Links to Evil by Rolynn Anderson… A ‘Friday the 13th Story’

Hello and welcome to the tenth 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 Rolynn Anderson’s “Links to Evil” – Now available for pre-order…releasing Nov 13.

Fun Fact:

I asked the brilliant and talented women in my golf club to help me write this short story since it is about a passel of golfers who help my heroine solve a murder. They provided names, settings, conflicts, and events I could fold into my mystery. They answered questions for 13 days and I wrote the draft in an additional 13 days. I even chose women at my golf course to be BETA readers. In the dark days of COVID, building a short story together was a welcome distraction!

 

Blurb:

A golf vacation meant to heal her injured brain turns into a career-buster, when FBI agent Sable Chisholm is accused of murdering her swing coach. Sable and her fearless foursome begin a perilous journey to expose the evil underbelly of a California links community.

Excerpt:

Sable faced her golfer friends and parsed her disclosure boldly. “I’m not afraid of sex.”

All three women laughed until their eyes watered.

Sable gave them a jaundiced look. “Thanks a lot.”

“You’re full of surprises, girl,” Rena said wiping her eyes. “Want to clarify that statement? I mean there isn’t a one of us who doesn’t love sex.”

Tightening her hands on the club, Sable said, “Being poisoned during a stakeout changed me from an introvert to a raging advocate of every out-there recreation I could find in The City. Climbing, surfing, bungee-jumping, triathlons, sky-diving. You name it. All in the month after carbon monoxide toasted my amygdala.” She cleared her throat. “I sought out sexual adventures as well.”

Rena hooted. In the next moment, she winced. “Protected, I hope.”

Looking at the grass, Sable said, “With married men.”

“Oh,” Bree said.

“Who worked in my office.”

“Ugh.” Sylvia grimaced.

“Two of them.”

“Bridges burned,” Rena opined.

“Mike?” Bree asked.

Sable shook her head. “Close. Too close.”

“Bottom line, Sable.” Rena tapped her finger in her palm. “Your police record details how you beat up two guys in a bar. Any pending suits from revengeful wives?”

“None. I promise. I made a deal with my therapist. No hopping in bed until after the fifth date. I have not slept with any man in Arroyo Grande in the two weeks I’ve been here. Period.”

She pinched her forehead. “My second admission isn’t earthshaking, but for some reason, my boss says I must tell you.” Sable paused. “I own a donkey and a pig.”

Bio:

Scandinavian, Army Brat, Wife, English Teacher, High School Principal, Golfer, Boater, World Traveler, Author.  Now add a competitive nature and a love for ‘makeovers.’  As a principal, Rolynn Anderson and the staff she hired, opened a cutting-edge high school; as co-captain with her husband on INTREPID, she cruised from Washington State to Alaska and back.  As a writer, she delights in creating imperfect characters faced with extraordinary, transforming challenges.  Her hope: You’ll devour her ‘makeover’ suspense novels in the wee hours of the morning, because her stories, settings and characters, capture your imagination and your heart.

Find Rolynn here:

Website

Facebook

Twitter

 

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Glimpse, the Dinner Guest by Stephen B King… A ‘Friday the 13th Story’

Hello and welcome to the ninth 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 Stephen B King’s “Glimpse, the Dinner Guest” – Now available for pre-order…releasing Nov 13.

Fun Fact:

The Glimpse series in part, focuses on different aspects of mental illness causing victims to cross the border into becoming criminally insane, or to put it another way, to murder people. For this story, I chose paranoid schizophrenia and the effect of the antagonist receiving electroconvulsive therapy. I was fascinated with the research results for both the illness, and the wonderful results the treatment has brought sufferers. As always, my inspiration comes from two words: what if? In this case, it was: What if the treatment only fed the paranoia? And so, the tragic story of Mervyn Biscain and the horror her wreaks on unsuspecting psychiatrists at a murder mystery dinner party where he seeks revenge, came to life

 

Blurb:

Detective Sargent and clinical psychologist, Patricia Holmes, has been invited to a murder mystery dinner party at a small luxury hotel located in Western Australia. The dinner is a reunion party for the psychologists and psychiatrists who work at Perth’s largest mental hospital, which treats the criminally insane.

But there is an uninvited guest–a former patient who is hungry for revenge. In fact, he is ravenous. He will stop at nothing until he murders the doctor who gave him painful, electroconvulsive therapy.

Detective Sargent Holmes must stop a frenzied killer on a vicious spree—but can she save the other guests, or will she be the last one left alive?

Excerpt:

Pat knocked on the door of number ten and hoped she had caught Ruth before she went downstairs to the bar. From inside, she heard a muffled woman’s voice. “Can you get that, Tony,” The next moment, the door was yanked open, and a tall distinguished looking man wearing a tuxedo performed a double take when he saw her.

“Jesus Christ, are you all right?” he said with concern in his voice, and Pat realized the effect her slashed and bloody top had on him.

Pat gave a small laugh, which, when she glanced again at his face, grew louder, and threatened to become hysterical. “I’m fine, thank you. Dress scary, the invite said, so I did. I’ve got to say; your tuxedo isn’t scary at all. I’m Patricia Holmes and would like to have a few words with Ruth, if I can, before festivities get underway.”

He grinned and stepped back, beckoning with his head for her to enter. “Yeah, we don’t do fancy dress-ups, sorry. We’re far too dull in our old age. Come in. Ruth is applying her make up with a trowel. I’m Tony. I don’t think we’ve met?”

“Thanks, Tony, please call me Pat, everyone does. I left Graylands quite a while ago now, and even when I was there, I was only part-time. I consulted to the criminally insane, the lifers, worst of the worst. By all means, call me morbid. These days, I’m with the police.”

He pointed to the chair by the desk for her to sit then turned his head to the bathroom. “Hon, it’s Patricia Holmes. She wants a word with you before we go downstairs. Do you want me to hang around, or can I go down and mingle?”

Ruth Hawthorne stuck her head around the doorway with a lipstick clutched in her right hand. “Hello, Pat, bloody long time no see, how are you doing?” She turned her glance to her husband, “You can leave us girls. We can go down together. Is that all right, Pat? My God, I love your outfit.”

“Thanks, Ruth. I thought I’d have a bit of fun. Going down together works for me. I need a private chat anyway…”

“Sounds ominous. You get off, Tony. Pat joined the dark side and is with the police now, but I don’t think she is here to arrest me.”

Bio:

I share a name with another, far more famous writer (shh, you know who) and I am often asked why don’t I write under a pseudonym? Well, I am Australian, living in Perth, Western Australia, Stephen King is my real name, and I have an ego. I like people to know I am an author, but I do NOT want to be confused with the other guy. I have read every book the original SK has ever written, and I often think that if I could write one tenth as well as he does, I could die a happy man. We are about the same age, give or take a year or two, and I used to think I don’t write horror or supernatural. That is, until Alicia asked me to contribute a dark thriller for the Friday the 13th series of stories, and I jumped at the chance. After all, Glimpse, The Dinner Guest is my thirteenth book………

Amazon buy link: https://amzn.to/3m1RaA8

Stephen B King
www.stephen-b-king.com
twitter: @stephenBKing1
Facebook: @stephenbkingauthor

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In the Still of the Night by Callie Hutton… A ‘Friday the 13th Story’

Hello and welcome to the eighth 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 Callie Hutton’s “In the Still of the Night” – Now available for pre-order…releasing Nov 13.

Fun Fact:

My daughter works Security at our local zoo and provided a great deal of information and facts for the story.

Blurb:

It was supposed to be just another overnight shift at the zoo where Holly McCabe worked…until she discovered something more dangerous than lions and tigers lurked in the darkness.

Holly McCabe works the overnight shift at the local zoo. She likes the peace and quiet but never forgets that the only thing separating her from the dangerous animals surrounding her is a fence, a moat, or a sheet of unbreakable glass.

What Holly doesn’t know is that on this night, a greater threat lurks in the darkness at the zoo. Someone who has revenge in mind. Someone who wants to kill her. But first, like the great cats on display at the zoo, he will play with her.

Excerpt:

Her last stop was the stingray touch pool where she checked the water temperature then headed back to the office.

It was nice and quiet without Rebecca offering her worries about her health and her boyfriend, usually in that order. Holly pulled out the lunch she’d stored in the refrigerator the night before. She often made extra food when she and Brad actually had dinners together and boxed the leftovers up in meal-sized containers for lunch.

She’d finished her report, eaten her meal, and played four hands of solitaire on her computer and, still, Rebecca had not returned from her rounds.

Holly picked up her radio. “Rebecca, what’s your twenty?”

No response to her request for the woman’s location. Holly tried again. Nothing. She shrugged and returned to a new solitaire game. Rebecca had probably forgotten to turn her radio on. It would not be the first time.

Another twenty minutes went by and still no Rebecca. Holly glanced at the clock on the wall. One-fifteen. Holly had paged her on the radio several times. Unless her radio was not working, or her cart’s battery was dead, she should have called her or been back by now. There was also a possibility that she’d run into trouble.

With a combination of annoyance and unease, Holly left the office and grabbed the cart she’d parked over an hour before. She rode to the back area of the zoo, following the path Rebecca would have taken.

Halfway through the rounds, at the very back of the zoo, she spotted something lying on the ground, in the middle of the roadway. From her approach, it was difficult to see what it was. It could have been an animal, but any escape from the confines of the zoo would have set off an alarm. There were wild animals, of course, who regularly found their way into the zoo.

The closer she got, the larger the object on the ground appeared. With her heart in her throat, Holly stopped the cart, climbed out and, with sweaty hands, held her flashlight up.

 

Bio:

USA Today bestselling author, Callie Hutton, is the author of more than forty-five historical romance books and historical cozy mysteries. She writes humorous and spicy Regency and Victorian with “historic elements and sensory details” (The Romance Reviews). With a million novels sold and translated into several languages, she continues to entrance readers with her heartfelt stories.

Find Callie Here: WEBSITE

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Retribution by DJ FitzSimons … A ‘Friday the 13th Story’

Hello and welcome to the seventh 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 DJ Fitzsimon’s “Retribution” – Now available for pre-order…releasing Nov 13.

FUN FACT

This story is set in the town where I went to high school – Surbiton, in the county of Surrey, England. It was fun to write about Guy Fawkes night, a traditional night of fireworks, where children eat jacket potatoes (baked potatoes) and watch the big bonfires burn. I haven’t celebrated it for so long!

 

BLURB

Robbie enjoys killing beautiful women, loving nothing more than the excitement of the chase. He’s found his next victim in Petra, a deliciously enticing travel agent. Meticulously setting a trap to lure Petra towards a terrifying destiny, his plans go smoothly as he sends yet another woman to an early grave.

But has he?

Robbie is blindsided when out of nowhere, he sees Petra staring at him from a bridge—a living, breathing woman! How is it possible when he left her lying in her own blood? Returning to the scene of the crime, the psychopathic killer is in for the surprise of his life when he finds her body is missing.

As night descends on Hallow House, Robbie learns that sometimes the hunter can also be the quarry……

EXCERPT

I spot her immediately. Hard not to because she’s really good-looking. But not in the brassy ‘come and get me’ way. She’s slender, great figure, and when she walks, her long blonde hair swings across her back like a curtain falling. Our eyes meet several times as we both pick up books and look at them. Then she walks past me again, and, this time, catches me staring. But she doesn’t go all snooty and look away. No—she meets my gaze head on, holds it, and smiles shyly. Wow.

            When she leaves the bookshop, I follow her. Of course, I keep a far enough distance behind her so if she turns, she won’t see me. I just want to know where she’s going. Turns out it isn’t far. There’s a small travel agency on the corner, just down from the post office, and when she goes inside the building, I wait, out of sight, but close enough to see through the large window. She might be a customer. But no, she takes off her pretty blue coat, hangs it on a peg on the back wall and sits down at a desk. Okay. First phase completed. Now I know where to find her.

            I’m late. Harvey, my scumbag manager, gives me the ‘you’re in trouble’ glare as I enter the office. I give him a ‘go fuck yourself’ scowl right back. He’s a sorry excuse for management. But then, most of them are. He hasn’t got the balls to say anything though. Thing is, I’m no beefy tough guy – I’m five ten in my socks, and I don’t pump iron at the gym – I’m a runner. Harvey crossed me once before, and all it took was one look to freeze him. What had he seen in my eyes? That I’m a predator?

Probably—because I am.

BIO

DJ FitzSimons is new author to the thriller genre. But now she’s found it, there’s no stopping her! A misplaced Brit living in the Mid-West, she’s a Londoner, always in pursuit of authentic fish and chips. DJ is currently working on a contemporary thriller set in Oklahoma, and also writes gothic mysteries and a monthly blog under the pen name of Jude Bayton.

Contact DJ – author@judebayton.com

Or read about her antics here:

Website: https://www.judebayton.com

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

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20313628.Jude_Bayton

Twitter: https://twitter.com/judebayton

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

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