I'm pleased to announce that I have a new collection available for you horrorheads.
I've collected my kindle-only Hoo-Doo County Horrors and Hoo-Doo County Horrors 2 and slapped them into an old fashioned paperback book! But that's not all, I've also included a ten-story sampling from another kindle-only collection due out later this year, Everything Is Gonna Be Alright and Other Out and Out Lies.
After we take a look at the sweet ass cover done by Matt Edgington, I'll break down some of the stories for you.
Hoo-Doo County Horrors:
The Full Moon Express- The story of Leon, the big rig driving killer werewolf, and the new friends he meets on the twisted roads of Hoo-Doo County.
Witch Hunt Sunrise- One of my earliest and still darkest pieces of flash fiction. (A personal favorite)
Roadside Crosses- A fan favorite of mine involving a haunted highway and a hateful ghost.
Parched- There are vampires in these there hills...
Hoo-Doo County Horrors 2:
Letter From the Bottom of a Mine Shaft- A flash piece written from the view of one of the last humans on the dying Earth.
Corpse Eater- Another fan favorite, introduces us to Marty and Ripper, the two undertakers from the strange Stillwater Funeral Home.
Owing Ira- A novella length story about displaced hit-men and rural murder/rapists. The most extensively re-worked story from Mr. Moon's Nightmares so far. Thicker and meaner than before, the first of a three novella series.
Everything Is Gonna Be Alright and Other Out and Out Lies:
Everything Is Gonna Be Alright- A mantra, say it over nd over and maybe the world won't eat itself.
Whiskey and Water- A flash piece centered around a small shore town.
Dreaming Durkhiem- My sleep is often invaded by social theorists.
Under the Twin Moons of X2313AR- A sci-fi twisted flash piece about a futuristic game show.
Three Hits of Hash On Top Of One Hit Of Weed- Sometimes it isn't just what you are smoking but who you are smoking with.
The Rotting- This world stinks of decay.
Sensible Sam and the Horrors Everywhere- An oldie but a goodie which has been waiting to see publication for a number of years now. We follow Sam through a lifetime full of deadly encounters with all manners of monsters to see what finally breaks him down.
Great Purification- A deep-woods redneck ends up the herald to a devilish fire-God set on engulfing the world in flames.
Joy Ride- A serial killer with a taste for fast cars and random pedestrians.
Little Black Jars- My most extreme story to date, about a robot addicted to human souls. Too man he needs other humans to find the souls in corpses before he can ingest them. The brutal robot rapist Mr. Cottonseed will haunt your dreams...with a dark Johnny Cash soundtrack.
BUY TRICLYOPTIC HERE!
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Monday, June 10, 2013
Fed Fat by Jonathan Moon
Fed
fat on name-brand lies and the toxins distort my perceptions. I hear the clanking of the gears, and the metallic wisdom comes with the tang of blood dripping from my ears. My fists are clenched, my voice is gravely, and my soul is a muddled mess. What is
real, what is right, what is profitable?
I hear ghosts from the past- laughing and jeering, and voices from the present sound like robot curses. They tell me the truth, the truth I know, 'We are the Romans.' And we feast like the Romans, on rotten meats and rich fats. We gorge and purge, we swallow it all down. Hope tastes so cynical, but it washes down the sour of Doom.
My stomach hates it all, and knots and groans its disapproval. No time to vomit, yet another spoonful for my eyes, ears, soul. A flood of rumor and mis-truths we swim in, we drink in, we drown in. I put on my War Face, and slam my spear into the ground. For God. For Country. For my Masters and their Masters before them.
I misdirect my aggressions and prides. I'm fed fat on name-brand lies.
You can find more of my work HERE.
I hear ghosts from the past- laughing and jeering, and voices from the present sound like robot curses. They tell me the truth, the truth I know, 'We are the Romans.' And we feast like the Romans, on rotten meats and rich fats. We gorge and purge, we swallow it all down. Hope tastes so cynical, but it washes down the sour of Doom.
My stomach hates it all, and knots and groans its disapproval. No time to vomit, yet another spoonful for my eyes, ears, soul. A flood of rumor and mis-truths we swim in, we drink in, we drown in. I put on my War Face, and slam my spear into the ground. For God. For Country. For my Masters and their Masters before them.
I misdirect my aggressions and prides. I'm fed fat on name-brand lies.
You can find more of my work HERE.
Labels:
flash fiction,
FREE READ FOR YOUR EYES,
horrorcore
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