The Dead Cat Paradox by S.E.Rise


There are two things you may not understand as long as you are alive. The first being the reason they close your eyes when you die and the second is that God hates children that do not come inside when they are called.
Michael rode the lightning to an alternate reality where he swiftly escaped by dying again. Time and again it happens; with each electric ride his new reality becomes more horrific. His memories are being overwritten, he is haunted by the unforgiving dead and it is without a doubt shattering the very fabric of his mind. Michael is trapped in a paradox and until he can prove otherwise he is not really dead or alive.
The bluish-white worms crawl across the dead girl’s face; she points her little hand to the World Storm and says to him: “You Do Not Belong Here”. The World Storm beckons and Michael has no choice but to answer the call.
To escape the nightmare, Michael must open the cat’s proverbial box.







Could Time and Light Make You Late For Dinner?

Black hole star in deep space, illustration

Black hole star in deep space, illustration

Time and Light could be the same. A thought experiment.

People have a hard time defining the meaning of TIME. What is time? My definition is simple. Time is from one moment to the next moment.
Pretty simple. Right? Not necessarily.
The say that time slows with the presence of gravity and speeds up in its absence.
They also say that light is a universal constant. That it travels at 186,000 miles a second and that it can be influenced by gravity.
They say that nothing can go faster than the speed of light. That nature or the Universe adjusts so that the closer you get to the speed of light the slower time will pass for you. (This is so you don’t go faster than the speed of light. It’s kind of a buffer)
But because how you perceive time is relative to you and it is relative to the speed at which you are traveling, the faster you go the slower time will pass for you. But not for everyone else in the universe. For everyone else moving at normal speed, time will be as expected and continue as it should.

Okay, so say we can somehow hypothetically move at the speed of light. Here we are, we are flying along. At the exact moment you reach the speed of light, time will have slowed for you so much that the universe around you will seem to have stopped. And, light will be right beside you. For you the universe has come to a stand still and light is matching your speed. Why is that? Why does time come to a stop for you at the speed of light? Maybe because the true speed of time is coincidentally also the speed of time. Seems like a pretty big coincidence don’t you think.
But then don’t they say that there are no such things as coincidences?

Okay, so what happens if you go faster than the speed of light.
If you go faster than the speed of light you will leave it behind. Does that mean you will leave time behind as well? If the threshold for time is the speed of light then when you pass the threshold for the speed of light you will pass the threshold for the speed of time. Everything in the universe will stop for you except you and your little ship.
Okay, so let’s back up. Everything in the universe is under the influence of light and time. Even the darkest places have been influenced by light and time somewhere along the way down the road of creation. That’s why time exists everywhere in the universe.
I hear you protesting but…but what about….?
So, here, I will ask it.
Well what about black holes? I’m glad you asked.
This is my theory on black holes.
What is a black hole? These are my thoughts on a black hole. A black whole is a place of infinite mass and infinite gravity. What does this mean? This means that an object has gained enough mass that it’s gravity is nearly infinite. Nothing can withstand it. We know that all celestial objects spin unless tidally locked. As this object gains more and more mass the gravity increases. This causes the object to spin at an incredible rate of speed. It spins faster and faster with the more mass it gains and draws in more and more with the increase of gravity. The more gravity and mass it gains the faster it spins. They say that to reach the speed of light you must have infinite energy which can only be attained by infinite mass.

See where this is going?

As the object reaches the point of infinite mass and gravity it is spinning almost or near the speed of light. When it’s spin reaches or exceeds the speed of light it is moving faster than light therefore it is moving faster than time. With infinite mass and infinite gravity you can reach infinite speed.
When you reach infinite mass, and speed it is outside of time but the gravity from it is not. The gravity from this object outside of time and light continues. As it continues and to our perspective it still spins and the gravity still increases. But maybe not to its perspective. We will get to that in a second.

So that is why if you cross the event horizon or threshold of a black hole you cannot escape. Because you will be outside of light and time, and caught in its infinite gravity.

The object at the center is spinning faster than light, it is outside of time. Therefore the light cannot escape and neither can time.

Back to our little spaceship.

It is my opinion that If you reach this state then from one of your moments to the next will be eternal, it will not happen until you some how once again drop down below the speed of light therefore dropping back into time. Which to you may seem instantaneous. But to the universe, a very long time may have passed.

Let’s change tracks here for a moment. I know you are thinking it therefore let’s talk about it.

What about Wormholes?

So, if you want to create a wormhole then you need to use something that is outside of light and time. To create a wormhole I believe the answer has been given to us. To create a wormhole you must use gravity or something outside the reaches of gravity. Because if it’s outside the reach of gravity then more than like it is outside the reach of time and light.
The travel time in a worm hole will be instantaneous and possibly eternal because you will be in plank time. You will in a sense be between one moment and the next. (I am not getting into Planck time right now though. I think you have had as much as you can stand. Haha)

So in conclusion of my thought experiment, I have played by the rules of Einstein and Newton and given you a logical and practical argument towards the connection between light and time. I challenge you to prove me wrong and/ or explain it in simpler terms.

Dale Reierson
S.E.Rise Author

This Little Demon: The Serial pt 2

Fallen angel of death, Male model, evil, blind

This Little Demon: The Serial pt 2


When I was fifteen years old I killed my father. At least, that is what they told me. To tell you the truth I didn’t know if I had or not. I honestly don’t remember killing my father. But if I did…I think maybe he deserved it. But, there I was 15 years old, an orphan, insane and a murderer.
They said I had multiple personalities with psychotic and schizophrenic paranoia. That’s quite a mouthful.
It began truthfully when I was 12 years old. Three years prior to my father’s demise.
This is how it began.
When my mother passed away, it was not a big surprise that my old man began to drift further away from me. We were never a close family as far as the great American family norm goes. My parents were usually away more than they were home. This didn’t bother me a whole lot. When my father was home he was piss drunk and angry at the world. It was everybody’s fault but his own.
Never one to own up to responsibility, he would go on nightly tirades as the news broadcast from the TV. If it wasn’t the President causing inflation, it was the congress giving away all the white man’s jobs. It was the minorities who got all the breaks. He believed the whole world was in a conspiracy to bring the white man down.
Nobody had the heart to tell him he was his own worst problem. His lack of education led to his lack of qualifications. With the lack of qualifications, it leads to lack of job experience. With no or little job experience he really didn’t know how to do anything, and of course he was just lazy. Whatever money he did make, he spent at the Indian casinos. Then, of course, it would be the Indians fault for taking all his hard-earned money. Who were they to take all his money? They didn’t even pay taxes. Every God blessed American should pay taxes, everybody that is except my dad; who would never admit to cheating on his taxes.
And of course there was always the excuse…Why should I work and give all the minorities my hard-earned money?
It was a never-ending argument. My mother tried to explain to him the process of taxes and the process of making money. But, he really didn’t want to listen to anybody but himself.
So when my mother died of Cancer at the ripe old age of 36. He didn’t have anyone with which to argue. The loneliness and despair of losing his wife to the cancer sent him off of his rocker. Soon he started believing it was the government’s fault that my mother got the cancer. It started with the high levels of Fluoride in the water. That’s the way they control you, ya see. Fluoride if used in lowered doses makes you more susceptible to suggestion. Fluoride is in the water. We drink the water, we watch TV. The TV was of course how they got you hooked. They advertised luxurious things and preservative filled edibles. In between each commercial The Jews, who ran the television and entertainment industry, slipped in subliminal messages. Messages that, of course, made you watch more television. The more television you watched while on fluoride, the more exposed you were to the messages they delivered through the medium of television.
But, they didn’t take into consideration the radiation that leaked out of the television. When you combine the leaking radiation and the sudden burst of electro-magnetism that travels on the beams of light projected from the television, you get a carcinogenic effect on your brain.
Exposure to too much television rotted your brain, that’s what they used to say.
Well, my father believed it was true.
Of course, he only figured this out a year after my mother’s death.
At the time I was twelve years old.
After he made his announcement to me, he walked straight over to the old eighties 23 inch television and promptly threw it out the back door. It sailed out the door, off the porch, and into the air. It seemed like it was airborne for at least a minute or so. It came down on its top corner and began tumbling, rolling, and bumping straight for the woods. There it promptly vanished. I could not believe he had thrown that big old set that far.
Heck, he must have thrown that thing at least twenty yards. Unfortunately, I think he was extremely disappointed in the fact that it rolled out of sight. It would have been much better for everyone if it had just exploded right there on the lawn. Then he would have had the satisfaction of being the one who destroyed it, and then there would have been closure on the subject of my mother’s brain cancer.
I watched that old TV descend straight into the woods and knew things were going to get ugly.
They did. After he turned to go inside, I saw the look of frustration as he looked at me, then continued on past.
See, many people don’t realize there has to be someone to blame.
Or something.
There had to be someone or something to get revenge on.
For instance, when the television set did not explode into a million pieces, or spontaneously combust, when it didn’t send tens of thousands of rads of electromagnetic radiation bursting across the yard, he felt as if he had been cheated. And nobody cheated my father.
As he strode passed me, I could feel his anger seething inside him. Pain and anger seeped out in his sweat, turning him into a sour smelling, rage maniac. I think that smell had something to do with what he did next. I tried to stay out of his way. It would not have been good for me to interrupt him at this particular moment. He went into the kitchen and rustled around under the sink. Finally, he pulled out the rubber cleaning gloves, firmly snapping them into place.
The television set had been in the living room; spewing forth its entire mind rotting vileness. And now that the contaminated source was removed, he needed to decontaminate the living room. First, the coffee table went out the back door into the yard. Then the end tables. Then went the recliner that he stunk up every day. It shot out then went tumbling down the back steps. Landing upright; surrounded by a nice batch of green grass.
Next came the couch.
This of course, would not fit through the back door in one piece.
I was going to tell him it wouldn’t fit, I mean it was fairly obvious. But, common sense said that this would not be the time to demonstrate my powers of observation and visual acuity.
So the couch wouldn’t fit, after shoving on the thing for nearly a half an hour, I saw a spark twinkle in his eyes. He turned and headed down in to the lower floor of the house. I stayed right where I was. A little mouse hiding in the corner, nothing to see here. Just a little mouse minding his own business.
The door at the top of the stair leading down flew open and my father strode through. Years later I would be reminded of my father while watching “The Shining.” As Jack Nicholson marched through the house hollering “WENDY.” Holding an axe in his hand and sporting that maniacal look in his eye.
Father had an axe in one hand and a wood saw in the other. Tucked into his front pocket was a claw hammer. With a whirlwind of frenzy the deconstruction of the family couch began. The claw hammer sunk into the cushions at the top and with a yank they were easily ripped away. Two yanks and the wooden frame was exposed. I watched the sweat gather on his forehead and slide down to his nose. Then it was flung through the air with the swing of the hammer.
Dropping the hammer, he picked up the saw and began to saw for all that he was worth. Back then they made furniture more sturdy and of a higher quality than they do now days. The results given by the saw were not satisfying enough for my father, so he cast it aside and picked up the Ax. That old Jack Nicholson gleam was in his eye and maniacal frenzy was written on his face. He stepped back, hefted the axe…and swung. I watched the axe descend and the resulting chunk of wood fly through air. It was a very satisfying strike. Sinking the blade in, he quickly jerked it clean and into the air again. He swung so hard this time I could hear it cutting through the air.
Shwoooonk. Then
Shwoooonk. And again.
Shwoooonk. Yet another .
I wanted to be any place but right here. I prayed to God that my father would not see me, and for the moment his obsessive-compulsive destruction of the couch did just that, it saved me. About twenty more shwooooonkish strikes and the couch was ripped and splintered in half.
He was breathing like a steam engine on overdrive. I did not think it was actually possible to breath that fast. He stepped back from the couch, relaxed for a moment, then hefted the ax, then came down with it. Sinking it into the wood flooring. With a dismissive shrug he grabbed an end of the bisected couch and began heaving it out the door. Out onto the porch and into the yard. Tumble, tumble, and with a final thud it came to rest next to the recliner.
He continued with the decontamination process until dusk began to settle in across the yard. I looked around the living room. It was bare. Except for chunks of wood and debris, even the throw rugs were gone. The bookshelves had been annihilated and made into kindling. The only thing that remained were the walls.
He had removed everything with which the television had come in contact. Every bit of furniture upon which the television had cast its light. Gone.
Then I got to thinking, if he were trying to get rid of everything that the TV’s light had touched upon…… wouldn’t he have to get rid of the walls too.
As If reading my mind, he walked over to the refrigerator, opened the door and pulled out a beer. He set the top of the beer against the edge of the counter and with a practiced strike popped the top off of the bottle. The bottle came up to his mouth and he began to drink and didn’t stop until the bottle was empty.
He looked at the bottle with surprise and threw it into the sink; spraying shattered glass across the wall and window.
I was numb with fear. Actually, I was just numb by then. The fear had left me quite a while ago. There was no doubt that my father had lost his mind. I just hoped he would find it again before he ran out of furniture.
But, like I said, as if reading my mind he began to look around the empty room, and then at the empty walls.
He had not spoken a word to me since this began.
To no one in particular, or maybe to the air and house itself he spoke.
“Oh my God!” He said as if suddenly struck with an epiphany. Hefting the axe he walked over to where the television had been. Turned around and surveyed the room.
“Of course.” He said and began walking over to the wall across from him. Without breaking his stride he brought the axe up and stepping into it, brought the axe down and into the wall.
Pieces of gypsum sprayed the ground.
As the hours passed I think that maybe I fell asleep. Because, I woke up to hear my father crying and talking to himself. The sheet rock from the walls had been stripped away. Two by fours and insulation lined the walls.
I looked for the source of the crying. What I saw appalled me. There was my father crawling on the floor, nose sniffing inch by inch the exposed wall.
Crying uncontrollably.
Searching, desperately searching for the areas of contamination.
With a jolt, he stopped and jerked his head toward me.
“Can you smell it son? Can you smell the contamination.” He asked, his eyes pleading for me to agree with him. That yes, I did smell the contamination. Actually, what I did smell was the scent of madness coming from my father’s pores, saturating his button up work shirt. The smell of ammonia mixed with the astringent smell of the Ketones put out by his body. His clothes hung on him in like sweat-drenched curtains. Rips and tears reduced them to mere rags. Bloody scratches and splinters stuck into and covered his arms. His face was plastered white from the sheet rock, and his fingernails had been reduced to bloody stumps.
As I looked at my father, the feral look in his eyes terrified me. With a twitch of his nose, he sniffed toward me and then his eyes came into focus. On me, of course.
I saw a war begin to rage within his eyes. The ordered mind of my father battling the madness consumed maniac he had become. Like a dog or baboon protecting his territory he charged at me on all fours. Abruptly stopping a foot before me, and began sniffing and searching for the contamination. A moment of silence began and his head sunk down to look at the floor. In a whispered and strained voice I heard my father’s sad and desperate plea.
“Run Max, get outside.” He said.
Then another voice took its place. This one deep ,guttural and full of loathing hate.
“Yes boy, run. Run my little piggy. Run.” It said and my father’s head shook for a minute then sprang up with his eyes glaring at me. But, they weren’t my father’s eyes. They were the eyes of a monster. They belonged to the owner of the Voice. His head drooped down again and began to shake.
I heard my father’s voice once again, this time strong and firm.
“Go Max, get out now. Don’t come back inside, not until I am better. Don’t come to me. I will come and find you. Now run goddamn it. RUN. NOW!” He screamed this last part. That was all the motivation I needed. I was up and out of there.
Through the door in two shakes of a lambs tail.
I ran so fast I missed the last five steps of the stairs leading down from the porch. I didn’t stop until I was a hundred yards into the woods. Fear and exhaustion sapped every bit of energy I had from the fight or flight reflex within me. My chest heaved up and down so fast I almost couldn’t catch my breath. I whipped around to see if I was being pursued. It was getting dark and the visibility was nearly gone. The surrounding area was deadly silent, nothing moved. The only sound to be heard was my labored breathing. My father was not pursuing, or whatever was inside my father anyway was not pursuing. I looked at the ground and collapsed into a pile a blubbering sorrow.
I was scared to death, homeless, hungry, and I had to go to the bathroom.
“Hey Max, what’s wrong?” My head shot up and I scrambled in a crab walk a good ten feet before I realized it was Janet. I looked around real quick. Where the hell did she come from? She wasn’t here a minute ago.
I reached up and dried my eyes. I couldn’t let her see me crying like this. She was a girl for God sakes. And she was my friend. I did not want her to think I was a Wuss or something.
“Nothing.” I said.
“Oh!……Then why are you crying?” She asked with a perplexed look on her face.
“I’m not.” I said with as much anger as I could muster. I didn’t want to make Janet mad. She was my only friend.
I waited a moment. Then I looked up at her. She looked like she was waiting for me to say something.
“What?” I asked.
I felt like crap lying to her and she knew it. She remained silent. She had me. I took a deep breath and let it all spill out; everything. When I was done, she just looked at me not saying a word.
I waited patiently. Waited for her to say something.
“Aren’t you going to say anything. You don’t believe me do you?” I said it as if I did not believe me.
She looked at me then. Her eyes much older than her years.
“Oh I believe you. I just think you heard him wrong.”
“I think you heard him wrong that’s all.”
“What do you mean I heard him wrong?” I asked, the anger was starting to rise in me. She was not making sense to me.
I have to give it to her… she was a very good listener.
“He told you not to come back inside. Not to come to him. He would come to you. Right?” She asked in a matter of fact tone.
I was still not clear at what she was getting at. I mean I heard the words, I just couldn’t make them into an order I could understand. What the hell was wrong with her? What the hell was she talking about? What the hell was wrong with me?
“Max, I need you to take a deep breath and lay on your back for a minute and prop your feet up. I think you’re going into shock.” She said and helped me do what she asked.
Immediately I felt better. I think that maybe she was right. I think I was going into shock and for some reason things were not making sense. Now as things were coming back into focus I looked at her with clear eyes and brain.
“You doing okay Max?” She asked.
“Yeah, much better thanks.”
“What did you mean I didn’t hear him right?”
She thought about what she was going to say for a moment.
“First thing… He told you not to come back inside. Correct?” She said.
I replayed it back through my brain. Yes. That is exactly what he said to me.
“So.” I said agreeing with her analysis.
“So,” She said with a smile. “My Dad says stuff like that to me all the time. He doesn’t really mean it.”
She paused and looked at me to see if I was following what she was saying.
I was pretty darn sure my father meant what he said.
“That just means…. we get to camp outside for a while.”
What the heck was she talking about? My father just freaked out, turned into a monster, and told me to get the hell out of the house. Then I thought about it for a moment. Maybe, that’s just what she was talking about. He wanted me out of the house and he would come to me when he was better. Huh? It made a lot more sense now.
She smiled.
“Besides, if all your furniture is outside then what’s the point of being inside?” She asked.
She had a point. I could just live outside for a while until my father was better. And then… everything would be alright.
“Come on.” She reached out and took my hand. “Let’s go exploring for a little bit.”
I looked around at the gathering darkness.
“Come on. Don’t be a Wuss. We know these woods like the back of our hands. Then later on we’ll go back and salvage some of the stuff and make us a fort.”
“What if he comes after us?”
“He won’t, trust me. He’ll have other things on his mind.” She said.
The way she said it, coming from her mouth, sounded like the most logical thing I had ever heard.
“Okay.” I squeezed her hand then let it go.
She turned and started running, not too fast, just enough to get us going.
She turned back to look at me. She was by far the coolest girl I had ever met.
I started running behind her.
Three hours later we decided to venture to my back yard. The lights were off inside the house. Nothing moved within. Not a creature was stirring….not even a mouse. But I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Someone was watching us from deep within the dark interior.
She grabbed my hand and whispered into my ear.
“Don’t worry. He won’t come out. Those are the rules. Your father won. He won’t come out after you. As long as you stick to the rules.” She said to me. Apparently, she had been through this with her father many times.
We began rummaging through the pile of furniture. The good stuff and the bad stuff. Pretty soon, we had a fairly good-looking fort.
The breeze began to pick up a little. I hoped it would not rain on us.
“Don’t worry, that’s Mother Nature’s way of clearing the air.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah.” She said. Janet was probably the smartest girl I knew.
Without a doubt.
That night she said she didn’t have to go home. That night, huddled in the Furniture Fort, we laughed and talked and unconsciously snuggled for warmth. We had pillows from the cushions, and a mat to lie on from the carpets. We arranged, maneuvered and managed the conglomerate of broken household goods until we had four walls and a roof. It was a pretty darn cool if I do say so myself.
Later, we both crashed out, sandwiched together in the warmth between the layers of carpet. I do not believe I have ever slept so well.
That morning we woke to find a box of food set outside our makeshift door. Neither of us knew where it had come from, both of us looked at the house, wondering what the heck was going on.
We ate like kings and queens that morning.
Seven Days, we stayed out there. Enjoying life and each other’s company. The fear of my father and the monster inside just seemed to disappear when Janet was around.
In the News, which was unbeknownst to us, because we had used the broken television set as part of our humble abode, the local Police Department still had no leads to the murder of three young boys two years prior. Local Authorities believe it may have been the work of a cult or traveling Hobos. But really, who cared, I had nearly forgotten the entire incident anyway.
In fact, I couldn’t even remember the one boy’s name.
At that moment, when life had been the lowest it had ever been it had turned out to be one of the best moments I had ever experienced.
On the eighth day my father came out and said it was time to come back inside. I had stayed out long enough. There was no sign of the monster I had previously met. He never spoke about it. Neither did I.
Three years later I would kill him.

Today we made a run to the pharmacy to get my medication. It went without event. Until we got there that is. Then our world changed. We came upon three old ladies who had lost their walkers. That didn’t seem to stop them from wanting to feast on our flesh though. They shambled forward without so much as a limp. They almost got the best of us. Yes, you would think that it would be easy to avoid three old ladies, but for some reason I think the dead are getting smarter. The first one had most of her scalp ripped off and part of her brain was exposed. Not enough to do any damage or put her on the ground. The second one only had one arm and a giant beehive of hair sitting atop her head. Each began to flank us; one on the right, one on the left respectively.
I could swear they were working in coordination, each moving through choreographed steps; planned and executed with expert like prowess.
We had thick black leather jackets, and matching leather chaps.
As we made our way to the front of the store. The door had been wrenched from its hinges, as well as the frame of two by fours.
This did not look promising.
Worst yet, I did not want to think what it would be like without my medication.
Actually, my medication only helped suppress some of my problems. Namely the big one. The main one. Johnny.
But enough about him, we needed to get inside, hit the prescription cabinets and get the hell out of here. We walked toward the opening as the two old ladies crept closer to us. I wasn’t particularly worried about two old ladies. Except that is, when they started walking faster. Usually the dead don’t walk that fast. These two had a little too much pep to their step.
They were equal distance apart.
Almost exactly.
“Something’s wrong here.” I said to Janet.
“Yeah, they are a little too coordinated, and they seem a little too fast.” She said as she took the lead.
“Yeah, almost as if we are…” I said and stopped.
“Being herded.” She finished, as she brought the cross bow up and aimed it toward the opening of the pharmacy. The entrance was dark with shadows. I looked around, and up. We had stopped walking and were waiting,; for what I didn’t know. With one hand holding her custom built, one-handed crossbow and the other on her Machete strapped to her back.
One of the two machetes.
I took the cue to load and set my ball bearing slingshot. Yeah, I know, you’re saying to yourself “He uses a sling shot.” Yes I do. Have you ever seen the hole a steel ball bearing will make in a head. Especially the high-powered slingshot. They call them wrist rockets for a reason. Besides, you are eventually going to run out of bullets and arrows. I will never run out of things to shoot from the slingshot. The two old ladies were too far away to get a really clear and confirmed kill, so I held the shot in check. We advanced a step and the two flanking did as well.
Then they stopped and waited.
This was very unusual behavior.
I looked at the two. They were very similar in appearance, nearly the same age. I bet they were sisters at one time. Well I guess they are still sisters but now they are just dead sisters. Anyway, Janet took the lead and we passed the threshold of the broken door.
We had to travel five miles to get here. We were going to get what we came for.
I needed what we had come for.
The whole way here we had passed countless numbers of the dead.
We had seen no one alive. No one.
The scooter we had traveled on was parked across the way. The high pitched noise of the engine would have attracted them to us. So we had sped up and pulled away from the most crowded areas, then killed the engine in the alley and waited. Both of us silent and waiting to hear the unmistakable slide shuffle of the dead. None had come. The street and path to the pharmacy had been empty except for the two old ladies shambling around in opposite corners.
So, here we were being herded into the pharmacy for God knew what. I turned my head to check on the distance of the Haggardly Sisters.
God they were creepy. I mean creepier than your normal dead old ladies. They acted like they were trying not to pay attention to us. This was so not the way they were supposed to act.
What the hell was going on here?
“Janet be careful, I think they are getting smarter or something.”
“Yeah me too.” She said and stepped past the threshold. I held back and watched the Sisters Grim shuffle forward. This was not going the way it should.
“Shit.” I heard Janet say and I turned my head to see a very large morbidly obese old lady coming out of the gloom. Except she was moving way too fast. Janet held her cool and waited till she was in range. I waited on the two outside.
Janet let loose and I heard a huge crash as the bolt from the crossbow took big mama in the head. I looked down to see at least three hundred pounds of dead flesh at Janet’s feet. I looked at her and knew it had been close. Speaking of that, the two were within range now and moving fast. I raised the slingshot up, loaded the ball bearing and drew back. I sent the ball through the first one’s eye and watched in slow motion as the ball bearing punch through the back of her head. She dropped. I turned and the second one was coming in fast. Too fast. I drew my machete and stepped, spun and sliced. By spinning I put more speed into my swing and crossed the distance with perfect timing. The machete entered and exited with the minimum of resistance. The head lopped off and fell to the ground.
Of course this didn’t kill it, not the head anyway. The body dropped and the head spun round and round on the ground; finally coming to a stop facing me. Its eyes were open and looking at me. Its mouth opened and it began biting the empty air. The head wasn’t going to go anywhere. So I guess I could have left it the way it was but, I didn’t want to take the chance that it might somehow bite us on the ankle on our way out. I stepped forward, raised my machete and with one chop I split its face and head in half. That would do it. But for good measure, I chopped the head again into thirds.
“It’s clear in here.” I heard Janet say and I turned around and found her inside. The behemoth was still down and Janet had chopped its head into thirds.
She reached down and extracted the bolt, wiped off the black gummy residue from the shaft and shoved it back in the quiver. I noticed the cross bow was already loaded and ready. Janet is, if anything, very efficient.
“Good shot.” I told her.
“It was alright. You could have made it without a problem. I just happened to be in the lead.” She said. Normally she wasn’t this modest. I knew this one had been different. They were working in a coordinated manner and they were much faster. They were not supposed to be Fast Zombies. They were supposed to be the Slow Zombies. Never has there been a horror movie were they started out slow and eventually became fast Zombies.
Actually, that’s not quite true. George Romero’s Land of the Dead had slow Zombies that became faster smarter Zombies.
Shit. I would have to rethink this entire scenario and adjust the contingencies.
And these had been old ladies. Hopefully we wouldn’t encounter any of the ‘Mister Man Beef Cake’ types. This was a first for us and it had nearly taken us by surprise.
“Grab what you need and let’s get the hell out of here.” She said as I made my way to the prescription area.
This was the fifth Pharmacy we had gotten my supplies from. I knew eventually we would be running out of Pharmacies. When this happened I did not know what we would do.
I needed my medication.
The class two and class three drugs had been taken long ago; Class one drugs did not exist outside the clinical setting. The Antibiotics had been taken as well. But the antipsychotics were still safely secured. Who ever had looted the area had probably saw what they had come for and grabbed what they could. I mean if I were in their situation I would not waste time on anything but narcotics and antibiotics; leaving the antipsychotics alone .Which I am most assuredly thankful. I grabbed what I needed and we got the hell out of there.
As we passed the two old ladies, Janet looked down and gave them an appraising look.
“You’re getting better. Unfortunately, I think we are going to be in a world of hurt. They are getting smarter and faster.” She said as we headed for the scooter. We had chosen a scooter because they are quieter than a normal motorcycle. They use less gas, which you would have thought would be quite a valuable commodity. But it isn’t. Nobody left to use it so I can get plenty.
We got to the streamline blood red scooter and she got on. Without hesitating she told me to get on back. So, I did. She’s a much better driver than I am. Hey, I can admit when someone is better at something than I am. I am very secure with my masculinity.
Anyway, change of subject. I got at least a month’s worth of medication, this was our main goal for today. Life would be good for at least a little longer.
And I had to say, we looked pretty damn cool in our matching black leather motorcycle jackets.

Serial Tale: This Little Demon by S.E.Rise Book One

beautiful vampire woman

This Little Demon
Book 1

This little piggy went to market

This little piggy stayed home

This little piggy had roast beef

This little piggy had none

And this little piggy went

“Wee wee wee” all the way home.

Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes.


This Little Demon

Part one


They do not walk fast but once they get their hands on you… they have you. They are very strong and very vicious. If they get them teeth chomping on you, you are done.
I have been locked down in my house for a little under a month. I have boarded up my windows and doors. The electricity went out about 5 days ago …Actually, only parts of town are out of power…Mine, being one of them. I hate the dark. Well, I actually do not hate it… I just dislike it a lot. Therefore, I had a generator installed.
This is the suburbs, there are not a lot of people…but there are enough. I can see most of them through the bars on the outside of my windows. Yes, I have bars on my windows, even in the suburbs. The crime rate is still pretty high, even in this day and age. If you look out of my house, you will see small picket fences, green grass, SUV’s, station wagons, sedans and mini vans in the driveways.
If you disregard the flipped over cars, smashed out windows, and billowing smoke columns…. It almost looks normal.
Oh yeah…and that is if you don’t see the shambling, bloody, mutilated walking corpses. It seems to me that they are actually the undead. That is, they have injuries that are not compatible with life. Obvious trauma, missing limbs, evisceration’s, detruncation’s, missing jaws, and broken necks.
They are dead, they must be.
They do not bleed anymore, yet they are animate. They shuffle around stalking anything that moves; except each other. They fight with each other over the parts, but they do not eat each other.
Weird huh?
I can see Mrs. Downy across the street. She was one of the first to be eaten. Apparently, her dog fluffy the wire haired terrier, changed and decided he was hungry. Most of her throat is gone; I can see one side of her face is missing its cheek. She has the whole Two-Face thing from Batman going on. The nightgown she has on is shredded and one of her old tit’s is hanging out.
She’s been crawling around on the ground for the better part of an hour. Digging, and scratching at the bottom of the tree in her yard. She must have seen that ground squirrel scampering around.
You better run and hide little buddy. Momma’s gonna have squirrel for supper. Well hey, look out there now. Good ole’ fluffy has come over to help her.
Pretty soon, they will have dug up the entire root system of the tree. I turn my head at a noise behind me, for a second I panic then remember it’s only Janet.
I can hear Janet digging around behind me in the kitchen cupboard.
“What are you looking for?” I ask the empty air.
“Nothing.” She replies. It is a kind of sultry raspy voice. It drives me crazy and she knows it.
“Well if it is nothing you are looking for, I think you might have found it.”
She pops her head out from around the corner and gives me the look. You can imagine which one.
“Sorry.” I say and raise my hand in apology. So far, we have not gotten on each other’s nerves. You would figure that after a month the personalities are bound to clash. But, it’s been pretty mellow so far.
Well…except for Ryan…that is another story. He is young and impatient. I can hear him moving around upstairs; constantly pacing. He does not like to be cooped up in the house. I can’t really blame him too much. I’m starting to get a little stir crazy myself.
But, at least in here we are safe.
I haven’t heard from Howard in a while. He lives in the basement. I let him move in a while ago. He’s an older man, probably in his fifties. Ex construction worker, retired, keeps to himself.
“Have you seen Howard lately?” I shout out to Janet.
“No, why?” She says poking her head from around the corner. A look of concern crosses her face. I turn and walk over to the basement door.
It gives the proverbial creak upon opening.
“Hey Howard, Are you alive down there?” Probably not the best choice of words.
The silence stretched on to the point it starts to become uncomfortable. I see Janet come out from around the corner. She has a big butcher knife in her right hand.
“Hey Howard…you down there buddy?” My voice has gone up an octave and my heart is beating faster.
I hear a grunt and something shuffled at the bottom of the stairs just out of my view.
Shit. This is not possible. No one could have breached our perimeter. Nothing can get in here.
“God dang it Howard…if you can hear me, answer me.” I hear another grunt and possibly someone passing gas. I grabbed the double-headed axe. The light from outside reflects off the newly sharpened surface.
I saw Howards hand reach out and grasp the banister.
He paused.
I was scared now. If Howard had been bit, then we were in trouble. My grip tightened on the axe handle.
I heard a deep breath.
“God damn it, can’t an old man get a few minutes of peace and quiet.” He yelled up the stairs with his old man voice. I could hear the ‘Deep South’ coming out of him; it tends to draw out his vowels.
“Well hell man,” I said “If you would answer me once and awhile. I called down to you a couple times. Christ, I thought you were a freaking Zombie.” My grip loosened on the axe and I ran my hand through my hair.
Janet walked back into the kitchen. Upstairs, Ryan had begun pacing. I am way too wound up. I needed to get some sleep. Janet will stand guard. She is one tough bitch.


Hello, my name is Janet I am 37 years old. I have blondish brown hair and blue eyes. I do not half step anything. In this day and age you cannot afford it. I will not become a victim. If you mess with me, I will kill you. Though don’t get me wrong, I do have a sense of humor. How can you not? Look at the world we live in. Jesus came, grabbed his few… and left. How is that not funny? We have been left to die and / or kill each other.
That is just…just… bullshit.
I think Max is right. We need to stay in place, wait it out. We have what we need here. And Ryan…well Ryan is a weasely little twerp. It is not our fault he was locked away in a closet for most of his life. If we have a weak link, it is he. We should have gotten rid of him long ago. He brings nothing to the table. He is such a downer. I cannot stand people like him. He never looks me in the eyes, he is always nervous…spineless is what he is.
They say the meek shall inherit the earth. Not if I have anything to say about it. Forget all that humble crap.
Max is a good guy. He has a spine and he is smart. He’s all right looking if you’re into that kind of guy. He is our pillar. Our anchor. We need him. Probably more than he needs us.
Howard is your typical southern farmer type. You would think he was slow but, he’s not. He takes his time to think about his answer before giving it. He is a bit on the cranky side though. He is set in his ways and not very open to the whole younger generation. I cannot blame him really.
As a generation, we suck. We try to do everything so fast and easy. We have forgotten many of our survivability skills. How many of us can actually start a fire without matches or a lighter. Exactly. We expect to be able to do things without really knowing how to do them. I do not believe in that.
Like right now I do not mind being on watch. I would rather be doing that than sitting around doing nothing.
Well… it looks like Mrs. Downy and fluffy have come to an agreement. Never really liked that woman anyway. People should not treat their pets like children. They are animals.
Simple as that.
I am kind of glad he ripped her throat out. She probably deserved it.
She was fat, probably stunk and was living off her dead husband’s retirement. The only thing she helped with… was the economy. She consumed, but contributed nothing.
The world we live in has changed. There is no more free ride. You either shit or get off the pot. Any day now we are going to see some of the survivalist come through. I’m pretty sure there has to be a few militias out there. Too many guns and ammo stores for there not to be.
I haven’t heard a plane fly overhead in a long time.
Not a good sign.
So, what I’m trying to figure out is…what is next?
There has to be a next. What would be the point if there weren’t? How long does this Zombie thing last? I assume it will have an ending, it has a beginning. If you approach it logically anyway.
So, Jesus came back as he said he would.
Took his righteous 140,000. Then, left…Have I said how shitty I think that is?
What?…Are they just giving up on the world? On humanity? I could understand humanity but the world?
I don’t think so. I think this is a solution to a problem. But, if the problem was humanity then why not just disaster us out.
Flip the world. Something. But the undead? Come on, that is so cliché it hurts my brain. They say that it would be easy to live in a world of slow zombies.
It is.
As long as you have someone to watch your back. I have Max and Howard. And maybe even Ryan, not that I think he would help. But I might be able to pick up some movement in his eyes or something. He is like anti-man. Not that he’s queer or anything. He’s just a pussy.
There I said it.
He’s a pussy.
Who the hell cares if your parents locked you in a closet and only fed you every so often? You’re out now, get over it. We all have traumas in our lives and we deal with it.
So… here they are….the rules to live by.
The rules for zombie survival are pretty much what you expect.
Stay away from them. Do not get noticed by them. Do not make loud noises; they are attracted to it. When you fight them, go for the head; it is all about the head.
That’s pretty much it.
Follow those rules and maybe you’ll live.
Here is an idea to think about.
What if this is only the first stage? The first stage of end stage.
How utterly ironic huh?
Wow! Would you listen to me, I’m talking about a million miles an hour, rambling on, jumping from subject to subject. I’m usually not like this. Usually, I am the very picture of control. I guess I am just a little excited about getting this all out in the open.
So, its days like these that make you wonder why you’re still alive. Granted, I wasn’t the greatest girl in the world but I was by far not the worst. I am not a bad person. Okay, okay, enough about me.
I don’t know how long we can stay living in this place. I mean we have everything we need to last a couple months but eventually we are going to have to leave. We’ll go bug shit staying in one place too long.
Not that we are that far away from that now. Ryan is growing very restless upstairs. I don’t know why Max likes the guy so much, but it is only going to be so long before he makes a break for it, and of course Max will chase after him as he always does. Life wasn’t as complicated as this until Ryan came back. We were a nice little harmonious family. But, Max had to let Ryan back into it and now it’s all fucked up.
I can hear him upstairs right now pacing, waiting to get enough energy and spazziness to make a break for it. I wish I could put a bullet in him myself sometimes. No, really, I wish to….I wish to…hmmph….I wish I could make myself do it.
However, that would not go well with Max. And to me… he’s the one that’s important.
Well, it looks like Max is waking up, time for him to take charge again. I’m a good captain but not a very good lieutenant. I am a bit of a control freak. Max is different; he cares about all of us.

With a start, or what they call a nap jerk I rolled off the couch. I had been dreaming about running. Running from what? That was the weird part. Somewhere in the dream I saw the pursuers behind me. They were eight-foot tall bananas, without the peelings. The bad part was the fact that the ground upon which I ran…. was covered with their peelings. As I tried to run, my feet kept slipping and sliding, and as I looked back, I could see they were gaining. Then the peelings started to curl up upon themselves, quickly trapping me within them.
Instantly waking me up.
Of course, as I rolled off the couch Janet glanced at me and laughed. But that’s okay, I like Janet’s laugh, it kinda dry and sultry. Very sexy. I really shouldn’t think like that about Janet. She’s my oldest friend and confidant. She has saved my butt more than once.
The first time I met Janet… I was ten years old.
I was trying to take a short cut through Breckom Woods. For the past four months Richie Marcos and his little group of toadies had been chasing me home. Sometimes they would catch me, sometimes they wouldn’t. The times they didn’t catch me… made it much worse for me when they did. It had never gotten too bad, pushes and shoves into the mud or dirt. Ripping my clothes. Hitting me with mud cakes. Stuff like that.
Jacky Carmichael was Ritchie’s number one toady. He lived to please Richie. When Richie was happy they were all happy. This meant he did not beat on them.
This was one of those times when they caught me. I had a feeling that something was in the air that day, and it told me I needed to be careful.
I tried to listen, I really did.
That’s why I went through Breckom Woods. Hindsight shows me that was not the best idea.
I had been hurrying my way through and down the trail, pushing away branches and leaves while simultaneously being smacked in the face. My heart was pounding so hard it was about to leap out of my chest. I was a bit on the chubby side back then. Bad genetics I guess. It’s not as if we had a lot of food in the house those days. Had lots of beer though. Dad loved his beer.
Anyway, pushing through the blind of leaves blocking the trail I ran straight into Richie Marcos. When I say ran into him, I mean ran straight into the back of him. I was a big kid with a lot of weight. A lot of soft weight. As luck would have it, Richie and his boys were in a circle facing inward, when I ran straight into his back. Nobody saw it coming, so nobody could stop what they were doing. As I ran into the broad back of the thirteen year old, I bounced off and landed on my rather large posterior. He, on the other hand must have been off balance, because he fell straight forward into the ring.
Unfortunately for him, the object of their entertainment had been a dying woodchuck. Quite possibly, it had been hit by a car and maybe wandered in here to die or maybe they found it dying and drug it back to this spot. I don’t know.
What I do know is they were torturing the poor beast.
As I watched Ritchie fly forward, my worst nightmares became a reality. Ritchie fell forward into the circle, therefore, landing on the dying woodchuck. Oh, that’s not the bad part. The really bad part was that apparently, they had thought it might be fun to circle around it and started pissing on it. So, as I rebounded off of Ritchie, he flew forward onto a dying piss covered woodchuck. And of course, the others were so startled they forgot to stop pissing and continued to piss on Ritchie. Only for a brief moment I guarantee you.
The woodchuck seeing his opportunity at a little revenge, timed his attack perfectly. When Ritchie fell onto the piss-covered woodchuck, he fell without catching himself. This put him face to face with the dying animal. If you have ever seen a woodchuck you would know they could actually get pretty big. I say roughly thirty pounds covered with fur and claws, and you cannot ever….forget their giant front teeth. They are kinda like beavers; they need to chew on things to keep their teeth from growing too large. This also helps to sharpen them.
Well as Ritchie, now getting covered with piss, fell missionary style upon the supine openly willing woodchuck, his face smashed down into its snarling maw. Luckily, for Ritchie, his reflexes were fast, because that is when our friend the Woodchuck made his move. It bit down with those enormous teeth right when Ritchie turned his head. It bit into Ritchie’s right ear, masterfully severing it from his head. Ritchie screamed and so did the other boys.
Hand coming up to where his ear had been, he rolled off the dying animal. Blood was beginning to soak the up turned collar of his denim jacket. His hair, plastered to his head, was wet from not only the bloody ear, but also with the combined piss splashing from the other boys.
Ochre colored piss stained his white tee shirt. Blood quickly replaced the piss as his eyes came across and into focus, fatefully finding me.
Here I was, Chubby boy Max sitting there looking across at him. I was so stunned by what had happened I sat there for a moment dumbfounded; watching as recognition came across his blood drenched face. Well, I didn’t need someone to tell me that I needed to get the hell out of there, pronto. So I did.
I rolled over, got my feet under me and took off running blindly through the woods.
Behind me, I heard a blood-curdling scream of rage.
“Get that motherfucker. I want him dead.” Came out from Ritchie’s bloody-piss covered mouth. As I ran in blind panic through the woods, branches and limbs clawed the exposed skin of my hands and face. I had no doubt Ritchie and his crew would kill me if they caught me. Fallen trees reached and snagged my shoes tripping me and efficiently ripping one shoe clean off.
But I got up and kept on running. I had no idea where I was running to or where I was going.
Just away.
I crested a small ridge of a descending hill, tripped again, and lost my other shoe. My face came down first, my body came over it backwards, and then I began to roll. I rolled all the way to the bottom. The only thing that stopped me was the jagged face of an exposed granite boulder.
With a thud my head cracked against it and I immediately felt the tear in my flesh.
My body, slow to recover, was on its back looking up the hill.
As I lay there watching little birdies fly around my head, I saw the first of Ritchie’s toadies come over the top, followed closely by another. Each of them leapt and ran like deer, surefooted and with ease.
Then I saw Ritchie crest the ridge and knew I was dead meat. In his right hand he carried the now dead woodchuck and in his left hand the severed ear.
Still thirty yards away, I watched them descend. Desperately I shooed the little birdies away and struggled to get to my feet. Instantly, my vision began to swim and go out of focus.
I heard something behind me and turned my head. Standing there was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. Long blondish brown hair, tan skin, a couple freckles on her nose. The sight of her was so utterly out of place I nearly forgot about my pursuers.
Where the heck did she come from? I asked myself. She was roughly my age maybe a year older or younger I couldn’t tell.
“Get behind me.” She said and I watched her walk forward with a giant stick in her hands. Sharp jagged points stuck out from the smaller broken off branches.
I reached out to her, trying to warn her, trying to tell her to run and get help; trying to tell her that they would kill her. At the corner of my eye, I saw the world begin to darken; my vision was slowly becoming a tunnel. I was beginning to pass out, the world tilted and darkness engulfed me but not before I heard a thud or a whack and a scream come from one of my pursuers. With a smile I faded.
When I opened my eyes next, I held a huge stick covered with blood and matting. I looked at my hands and saw caked blood covering my hands, my arms, and my clothes. I wiped my forehead as blood leaked into my eyes.
I turned my head and there was the girl, holding a similar colossal branch. Pieces of hair and clumps of blood clung to it. She looked like a feral animal just come from a feast. Blood covered her entire face; even her teeth. She nonchalantly threw down the branch. It thumped on the ground with a sickly wet thud. Her bloody smile widened and she stepped toward me.
“My names Janet,” She said and looked me straight in the eyes. Blue pools of tranquility stared back at me.
“My names Max.” I responded and stuck out my gore-covered hand. She stuck her similar gore covered hand out and we shook hands.
“Nice to meet you Max,” She said then hesitated, “You looked like you needed some help.”
“Thank you I did, they were going to kill me.” I panted. I leaned down and put my hands on my knees. Until that moment, I hadn’t really acknowledged the fact that we were covered in blood. That is until my eyes looked down to the ground.
I heard Janet’s voice then.
“Don’t freak out Max. They were going to kill you.” She said.
On the ground at my feet, was a mangled bloody something. My first thought was ‘Is that the woodchuck?’ Then I saw that it, the woodchuck, was lying a couple feet away. The bloody chunk I had spied below was the mangled remains of a head; a human head. I bolted backwards, tripping again, and landed on something large and wet. I rolled, sort of slithering like, off and came face to face with a very dead Ritchie Marcos. Lurching backwards my eyes shot up to my new friend Janet. Behind her blood covered face was a look of Knowing. A look of resolve and tainted innocence. I crab clawed backwards, my eyes never leaving hers.
“Oh Max don’t look at me like that. This is not the best way for us to meet.” She said and then continued. “They were going to kill you. So…I helped you kill them…Only three of them actually. The other two got away.” Not a hint of remorse could be found in those eyes. I looked around at the ground again and really began to see the devastation we had enacted.
Ritchie was propped up against the rock I had initially hit my head on. The whole left side of his head was caved in, crushed many times by something very large.
There on the ground, to my surprise, was the football-sized rock I had used to pound in the side of his head.
Rips and tears covered his neck and arms. These were from the sharp stubs broken off of my giant tree club; the one I had discarded earlier.
I felt my stomach churn a bit and I glanced away. My eyes moved across the ground in a kind of stuttering motion back to where Janet stood. At her feet lay a broken, battered and very dead Paulie Marcos, Ritchie’s not so little brother.
I began to stand and then it came. I bent forward and vomit exploded out of my throat. I say my throat because that’s how forceful it was. It came on so hard I think it missed the inside of my mouth altogether. I vomited so much, I would not be surprised to see that long lost toys or baby shoes had been expelled from my throat. Not that I had a problem eating my toys or shoes and stuff, just you know…. every once and awhile.
Anyway, my hands went to my knees and my eyes began watering. I wiped the tears away and saw what I had previously contained in my stomach. On the ground, bite sized chunks of flesh covered with stomach juice littered the ground. Before I could understand what was going on… my eyes focused on Jacky Carmichaels body, and severed head. Jacky’s head was the original chunk of meat I had seen on the ground. Rips and chunks of flesh had been taken from Jacky’s torso and face. Beside it, a dinner plate sized piece of sharp granite was covered with flesh and gore. Apparently, this is what was used to cut off Jacky’s head.
What I had used to cut his head off.
Well, Janet and I that is. I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. I didn’t turn to face her. I stared into the woods and knew my life was never going to be the same.
“We have to go. The police might be here soon.” She said.
I turned to her then and asked. “Go where? We killed these guys. They are going to lock us away forever. We are going to get the electric chair for this.”
She smiled then and I knew everything was going to be all right.
“No their not; besides, who’s going to believe a chubby ten year old boy and a petite little girl like me did this to these older bigger boys…. No one, that’s who.” She said.
She was so sure of herself that I instantly believed her. And she was right. In fact, as we walked away she said something else that made sense.
“I doubt the two boys that got away will say anything at all. What would they say? That they were chasing you down to kill you and you and I began killing them instead. No, they won’t say anything and neither will we.”
Again, she said this with so much confidence that I immediately knew she was right.
We walked through the deepening woods a bit, not saying a whole lot.
What was there to say?
Eventually, she told me she lived across the way. I asked why I didn’t see her in school, and she told me her Dad didn’t trust public schools, and that he was home schooling her. I had never heard of this before, and I wanted to know more about it but she immediately clammed up; obviously finished with the subject.
I told her where I lived and she said she already knew. That she had spied on me before, from the edge of the tree line. This girl was weird and yet so darn cool. She was the coolest person I had ever met.
And a girl too. Wow.
She said she had to get home; I looked around and realized it had somehow gotten dark on us. I also realized I was not sure where I was.
“I don’t know where we are. I think we are lost.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Look over there.” She pointed towards a light in the distance.
I said I could see it.
“That’s Mrs. Holcombe’s house, just head for that, then turn left. Stay to the woods and you should come out at your house.”
I’ll be darned she was right. I turned to her and she was already moving away into the dark.
“How are you going to get home?” I asked.
“Don’t be silly, I know exactly where I am going.” She said and turned away from me.
“Hey wait,” I said. She stopped and in the darkness I could see her turn to me. I mustered my courage and asked her where she lived and if she wanted to hang out sometime. At first, I thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then she did.
“Sure we can hang out if you want.” She said and after a short pause. “But don’t come looking for me. My dad doesn’t like strangers at our house. I’ll come to your house.” And just like that she ran off into the night.
Okay… that was a bit odd. But then, no weirder than bashing three people’s heads in.
But for some reason I wasn’t really worried about that.
After what seemed like forever, and at least an hour’s worth of stealth, I made it to my house.
All the lights in the house were off, and neither of my parents was yet home. Big surprise there.
I went to the spigot at the back of the house. Back porch lights shown from the houses to the left and right of mine, thus creating a nice pocket of darkness.
We didn’t have a back porch light.
I looked around and made sure no one was looking, stripped out of my blood soaked clothes, turned on the nearly ice cold water and began washing my body down. Liberally spraying the grass where I had washed off, I watched with uncanny night vision as the plush grass soaked up the evidence. I sprayed the bloody clots and chunks from my clothes and folded them into a pile.
Still butt naked, I picked up the pile and went up the back steps of the porch. Shivering despite the humid summer air I let myself in.
Went to the washing machine and put my clothes in. I had been doing my own laundry for quite some time now, since neither parent seemed concerned enough to do it for me.
Putting in the measured amount of laundry detergent, I put two caps worth of bleach in behind it, and started the washer. With that done I went upstairs and hopped in the shower; vigorously scrubbing the crimson tinge off my skin.
Brushed my teeth three times.
Toweled off.
Went into the kitchen, made myself a ham sandwich and almost choked on my second bite. Looking around I knew something was missing.
My backpack. I had lost it when they had begun chasing me. Panic almost got the best of me. I had to go back and get my backpack. I threw on some clothes and began looking for my shoes.
Oh Dear God!
I had lost my shoes as well. I almost started to cry then. I rummaged in a kitchen drawer, found the flashlight I was searching for and bolted for the back door. I pushed open the screen door and began to step outside.
How the heck was I going to find my shoes and backpack in the middle of the woods in the dark? I wasn’t that’s how. I turned on the flash light and aimed it toward the woods. A circle of luminescence appeared on the tree line. I began to walk out onto the porch, I saw a flicker of movement at the edge of the tree line, and fear filled my soul.
The first thing I thought of was… It’s Ritchie’s ghost come back from the dead. I moved my light again and I saw a small bit of reflection. Keeping a tight rein on my fear I descended the back porch steps. The light beam crossed the grass, highlighted the individual strands, and eventually came to rest on the reflection. Stacked nice and neat were my backpack and sneakers. Shoes stacked on top.
Apparently, she was a lot smarter and quicker than I was. I’m glad she was on my team.
So that was the day I met Janet.

Erotica and Horror Shock Icon Christian Jensen on Writing Lone Survivor AKA Zombie Bigfoot

I am proud and honored to have guest blogger Christian Jensen paying me a visit today. I think it would be best if I let Christian just get right to it. Without further ado…

Christian Jensen
On writing Lone Survivor AKA Zombie Bigfoot


What would possess someone to write a book in which zombies hunt through a desolate landscape, hungry for human flesh and desperate to slaughter the living? Why would someone look at such a vile, unforgiving world and then throw Bigfoot into the mix? And what would then happen to such an already twisted, lascivious mind to have him turn Bigfoot into a zombie?

I can’t answer that question, but I can tell you that it was a blast to write. The idea came to me while talking with a non-writerly friend. We were discussing the apocalypse, going through various survival skills and techniques, savoring the flavor of destruction and death in an end of the world scenario. This non-writer then jokingly mentioned Bigfoot as a zombie, and the book was born. I immediately knew that I had to write a zombie Bigfoot novel, and quickly set about doing just that.

In Lone Survivor, Jim is a big man with the skills needed to survive. He’s been doing fine on his own, but the loneliness is slowly killing him. While out procuring supplies one day he is surrounded by the dead, fighting for his very life. Bigfoot, the mythical cryptid, comes to his aid and the two wipe out a small army of festering corpses. There is an unspoken agreement between them as they become allies. They provide food and water for one another, helping each other survive and fight off the seemingly endless herds of shambling dead.

Jim becomes protective of his new friend, so when he finds a band of survivor’s hell bent on killing Bigfoot, he takes the offensive. Jim hunts the men down and kills them all, with the help of the mythical man-ape. But then…Bigfoot gets bitten by one of the dead and now all hell breaks loose. There is now a zombie more dangerous than any herd, more deadly and violent than any army of corpses. At over eight feet tall and four hundred pounds the beast is nearly unstoppable.

Things only get more complicated when Jim saves two women from a zombie Bigfoot attack. Now the beast is pissed, hungry, and determined to eat our hero. Jim’s survived on his own for so long that he doesn’t know how to make it with two new mouths to feed. Will these two broken women be the end for Jim, or are they one thing he’s always needed to finally beat this hellish existence? Will Jim keep them safe, or become the Lone Survivor?

One man. One Bigfoot. One Billion Zombies. In the land of the dead reanimated corpses hunt through the shadows. Man has turned against man in an unforgiving apocalypse where only death can thrive. When there is no one left to trust, nowhere left to turn, you have to fight to make it another day, just to become the Lone Survivor.

Christian Jensen is a prolific horror, thriller, and erotica author living in the wilds of central Jersey. He is the author of more than 40 books, most, if not all, eventually being re-released through Booktrope. He also writes with Cassandre Dayne, and 5 of their books are being released through the same publisher. His stories tend to be more graphic than most, his sins slightly more delicious. Demons, zombies, and a million other shadows swirl endlessly through is diseased mind, spilling out onto the page in a nightmare vision. You can find him on Amazon, B&N, Goodreads, and many other places, as well as on social media and at his blog. He appears regularly around the east coast at horror, sci-fi, and pop-culture conventions, selling his books and meeting those damaged souls who read his hideous words.
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Simmering by S.E.Rise The Cover Reveal


simmering reveal

Welcome to the official Cover Reveal of my Erotic Thriller Simmering by S.E.Rise. I have waited quite a long time for this day and to see it all coming together is simply unbelievable.
It is weird to think that I only have 17 days until the official re-pub release by The Edge And Entice Imprint of Booktrope Publishing.

I want to thank my awesome Book Manager, Majanka Verstraete for scheduling and organizing this entire Cover Reveal party.

I also can’t take any of the credit for how wonderful the cover turned out. That credit goes to my extremely talented Cover Designer, Laura Hildago at Booktrope Publishing.  I had a vision of what I wanted and she simply plucked those images right from my mind. Do yourself a favor and check out this Talented Artist. You won’t be sorry. You can find her at

So, without further ado…Drum roll please…Here is the official Cover Reveal of Simmering by S.E.Rise from The Edge and Entice Imprint of Booktrope Publishing. Be sure to share and retweet. Spread the word.

simmering ebook cover


Simmering by S.E.Rise
Who would you rather find in your bedroom, a steamy hose-wielding fireman or a dangerously obsessed ex-boyfriend? What if you found both? Romance writer Allison Fairchild is growing frustrated with her first attempt at Erotica until she reads a well-timed magazine article. What working man makes the best lover? The article sparks an idea and her eyes are irresistibly drawn to the top-ranked firemen just across the street. It might be coincidence or driven by fate but it is all the motivation she needs.
Ali has herself assigned to a firehouse and is committed to doing her job; getting incredible sex stories from actual firefighters and, in the process, try not to become one. At least that’s her intention until she meets the Captain, a by-the-rules professional with an enticing off-duty wild streak. Ali and the Captain put their wills to the test to resist the chemistry heating up between them. But unbeknownst to Ali, her cheating ex-boyfriend has set his eyes upon her again and if he can’t have her, no one can.
Will Ali break “the rules” with the Captain before she can finish the book or will her ex’s frightening obsession inevitably destroy them all?

The Edge and Entice Imprint of Booktrope Publishing. – Republished Date May 16, 2015

Thank you to all to for helping me spread the the word.

Please be sure to visit all the other Participants in the Cover Reveal.

Indy Book Fairy

I Heart Reading

Editor Charlene’s Blog

Entangled by Words

Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents

The Single Librarian

Books are Love

Bedazzled Reading

Underneath the Covers

Books and Tales

Dm Cain’s Blog

Majanka’s Blog

The Modern Druidess

bookfabulous design