Sunday, January 12, 2014


A print edition of my horror collection, DREAMS & NIGHTMARES, will be coming soon. This one will be somewhat different in content than the previous electronic version.

For a bit of a sample, here's a brief excerpt of one of the stories, "Thunder's Eyes," a story based on a Blackfoot Indian legend...

* * *

…….Sam Denton had seen it all.
…….A Nevada State Cop going on twenty three years, Denton had seen his fair share of murders, robberies, rapes, auto accidents, domestic squabbles, road rage, drunk naked prostitutes offering services as he slapped the cuffs on them and introduced them to Miss Miranda.
…….Of course, this being Nevada, there was the lighter side as well, chasing down conspiracy theorists and UFO hunters that had the habit of sneaking a little too close to Area 51. The claim was always the same. Always. The government had flying saucers there. And alien bodies. Dead ones. Saw it on TV. That kind of thing. Just a bunch of nuts.
……. “Yeah, My Favorite Martian,” Denton always muttered. Always. “Now you just turn right around and go back the way you came,” he’d warn them off with a nod. If they got too pushy with their theories of black suits and helicopters, there was always Miss Miranda and a night in lockup. Most listened to reason and went away.
…….So, yeah, Sam Denton had seen it all.
…….But not this. This was something new. Relatively new. And different. Not your run of the mill killing, assault, road rage, or flying saucers. This was different. Victims left along lonely stretches of Nevada highways, their eyes missing, and muttering the word Thunder before winking out to nobody’s home. Catatonic. And a nearby large patch of ground that was charred like it had been struck by lightning. Always the same. Five cases so far that Denton was aware of. Mostly losers. People the world really wouldn’t miss if they fell off the planet or into the Grand Canyon.
…….Now there was a sixth. A known drug dealer that peddled smack. Found on a long lonely stretch of SR 93 up between Ely and Wells. Always the same. Eyes missing, muttering Thunder before going catatonic, the charred patch of ground. Mister Dealer just sat there quietly, hands in his lap, not a care in the world.
……. “Funny,” Denton mused, “it’s almost as if they’re staring. If they had eyes, of course.”
……. He sighed, shook his head, at a loss on how to proceed with an investigation short of filing a brief report. Yeah, this was different. Somebody’s got an eyeball fetish.
…….A siren echoed across the shrub land. Denton turned, looked down the long stretch of highway. Lights flashed red and blue; an ambulance was coming to take Mister Dealer away.

* * *

NOTE: The above photo is the working cover photo and not finalized.

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