Wednesday, 1 July 2015

Drabble Wednesday: Macabre Musings

Today, on this Canada Day edition of Drabble Wednesday, I bring you some ghosts, some trains, and a tiny touch of the apocalypse…


I sit on the damp park bench, careful not to slip on the wet pavement. It’s a foggy morning full of drizzle, not any different from yesterday or the day before. The days seem to blend now, with rain and faded colours.
Still, the park is beautiful. It’s quiet, no one is here yet. The fog diffuses the morning light, giving the trees a soft, velvet look. Almost a sepia tone, like pictures my grandmother showed me.
It won’t stay this way. The scavengers, the abandoned survivors of the plague will come soon. Nevertheless…
It’s a nice place to die.

The Bridge

Why am I here?
I am standing on a bridge?
In the fog?
I am so cold…

Why am I here?
I am still on the bridge?
It is so cold.
I thought it was summer.

Why am I here?
Why is it so foggy?
Why is my dress sodden?
It is cold... so cold.

Why am I here?
I am cold… so cold… so wet…
I cannot see in this fog… wait, I believe… there are people?
Help me… oh, please, help me…

And folks, this turn of the century bridge is the next stop on our ghost tour…

Old Photos

Look at the photo.
Can you hear the train?
There’s no train in the photo you say.
I know. But it’s there, a ghost at my shoulder. I can hear it.
I can hear its forlorn whistle, the clackety clack of its wheels against the tracks, sense its rumble under my feet. I even smell its belching smoke.
I see that smile. The ramblings of an old man. I’m not crazy. The train is real. It’s haunting me.
It’s John’s old train you see. He’s never forgiven me, and now he’s coming back. Each day the train gets closer, closer…


And for an extra Canada Day treat, here’s the link to my free flash fiction short, Even the Paranormal Play Sports:

Even the Paranormal Play Sports

Things have taken a turn for the paranormal in a small corner of Canada. Set against the backdrop of a hockey game, teenager Deidre Dawson tells her strange story to a reporter.

Happy Canada Day!

Sunday, 28 June 2015

Book Spotlight: Coffin Riders

Today we shine the spotlight on the intriguing fantasy horror novel, Coffin Riders by James W. Bodden. It looks like a great book, and a treat for horror fans, so enjoy...

Coffin Riders by James W. Bodden

The worst part about hell? There aren't enough towels. 

Bloom deep-throats the barrel, and pulls the trigger. He waits for Lorraine to follow him into the afterlife, just like they planned, but she never shows. Death has no payoff. 

He drops down to the underworld, a place called Paradise Cove, an assisted afterlife facility masquerading as a cheap hotel deep in the bowels of the earth. A modern day Dante, Bloom searches desperately for a way out of hell. He journeys through the nine known underworlds in a mad search for his lady love to take the revenge he thinks he is owed.

Death is a spiral: the deeper you go the worse it gets.

You can find Coffin Riders at:

Author Bio:

James W. Bodden’s the writer of the Red Light Princess, and Coffin Riders. He lives in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, and has hunted UFOs for a late night radio show, and after fresh corpses as a crime beat reporter.

Friday, 26 June 2015

Pinterest Is A Porno Site (Among Other Things)

Pinterest Is A Porno Site (Among Other Things)

As some of you may already know if you read my previous post, or have been following my Twitter updates, I’ve been having trouble with policy violators (aka porno pinners) over at Pinterest. A gaggle of them (for some unknown and creepy reason) have targeted one of my group book boards on the site. I’m not saying this is an attack or anything, but I’ve been getting at least one of these sleazy, sexist profiles following my book board each day for weeks.

Now I’m not overly prudish, or against nudity, and I’m not talking about art shots, nude paintings, sexy celebrity photos, or even those lingerie boards. What I’ve been dealing with is full frontal, sexist exploitation of women (plus a few men as well) and the very definition of pornography. Many of these images are very graphic, very sexual (and sexist) in nature, and in some cases designed to imitate under age schoolgirls. This is not what I signed on to view, and I believe it SHOULD NOT be displayed on a public forum like Pinterest. And I’m betting NOT ONE of those sexist jerks that post these photos would take copies into a crowded public place like a mall and show them to strangers. Yet, they have NO problem doing the virtual equivalent on Pinterest.

But wait, Pinterest has a policy against these types of pins, doesn’t it? Supposedly it does. Yet by my recent experience it is turning a blind eye, and these profiles, boards and pins are flourishing on the site. And to make my troubles worse is their recent change to their reporting process. Now you have to get up close and personal with the pins to report them (so good job Pinterest—to get rid of graphic sexual photos, you have to interact with them). Plus the system is not working properly, at least for me. I may be biased, but it seems Pinterest is making it harder to report violators and to want to report violators. Making it a hassle to report a violation does not encourage people to use the process. As well, they’ve certainly been giving me the runaround about fixing my problem with their system.

I used to love Pinterest, in part because it wasn’t a place I had to navigate around creeps and sexism. I guess that’s changed. I feel like I want to chuck the whole thing, but I put a lot of time into my profile, so I probably won’t leave (though I may have to delete that book board). I do know I certainly won’t be as frequent a visitor on the site anymore. To sum up, all I have to say is this—Pinterest isn’t a family friendly site, so if that’s what you are looking for, either stay off the site or pay very close attention to who is following you and exactly what they are pinning.

Thursday, 25 June 2015

Cover Reveal: August's Gardens by Michelle Barclay

Today I'm part of a cover reveal, this time for the new fantasy/horror novel August's Gardens by Michelle Barclay. This upcoming book is the sequel to Morrigan's Shadows, and it's scheduled release date is August 18, 2015. And now on to the big reveal...

Isn't it a lovely cover?

And now for a bit about the book and author.

August's Gardens

Morrigan is beyond death, trapped in a hellish nightmare from which only the Artist can save her. The Fiend is behind enemy lines learning to reap what he has sown. The Artist reaches deep into his past to find a reason for the strange woman he now must rescue from the vile Dark Man. The Winged Man is forced to wait while all of the elements he needs to start war with hell itself fall into place. Will he fight alone or will his shattered family unite with him?

Author Bio: 

Michelle Barclay is the author of Morrigan's ShadowsRot and the upcoming novel August's Gardens. She lives on the South Shore in Massachusetts with her husband. 

Follow Michelle Barclay on Twitter and Facebook to learn about upcoming giveaways and how you can get a free digital copy of her novella Rot. For author news and very occasional updates, sign up for Michelle's mailing list.

Wednesday, 24 June 2015

Drabble Wednesday: Secrets

Today on Drabble Wednesday I delve into the dark shadows and even darker hearts…

A Venice Night

I slip through shadows and sunset and the drifting mist, my near silent footsteps swallowed by the ocean lapping against the bridge. A gondola is waiting; soon I will be lost among the murky waterways and alleys of the city. As I near my escape, I clutch my precious satchel close, my free hand grasping my stiletto.
Too late I see. An empty gondola, the flash of another blade. Pain in my side, my useless knife falls. I watch the assassin snatch away my satchel, the stolen papers reclaimed. Then he rolls me into the water and all goes black.


A winter snowfall blankets a crisp white across the mountain landscape, imbuing the night with a quiet beauty. Against the weather, welcoming light—cast from a human dwelling—flickers. A sliding door stands open, the frigid air swirling past the bamboo and wood.
A breeze wafts a flurry of the tumbling flakes inside the home. A tiny storm dances, and for a moment, a minuscule of time, the white suspends in air. Then it descends. It spawns a brief contrast to red stains on the floor, before it melts into pooling liquid.
Before it joins the blood of the dead.

Desert Sand

Footsteps, impressions in the sand. Two sets lead out into the desert, the tracks of friends, of two adventurous men. One man, a natural leader, outgoing, handsome, a risk taker. The other quiet, more introverted, cautious, but clever and patient.
One man kissed his beautiful wife as he left this morning, the other shut his door on an empty apartment. Two friends. One careless with his words, never letting his success go unremarked. The other smiles while resentment and envy churn in his heart.
Footsteps, impressions in the sand. Two sets lead out into the desert, only one lead back.

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