Showing posts with label undead. Show all posts
Showing posts with label undead. Show all posts

Tuesday, 19 March 2024

Book Spotlight: One of The Dead

Another book spotlight today with the horror book, One of the Dead by Richard Farren Barber. Enjoy.




One of the Dead by Richard Farren Barber


Terror doesn't stumble and moan—it walks silently among us, cloaked in the guise of the overlooked.

Nick, burdened with the rare ability to see these dead predators for what they truly are, faces a nightmare when his girlfriend, Abby, becomes ensnared by their sinister intent.

These are not your typical undead. They blend in, their appearances mirroring the forgotten faces of society, making their predatory nature all the more chilling. A touch is all it takes for them to latch onto their prey, draining life in a way that leaves the body walking but the spirit doomed.

As Abby becomes the focus of such a being's obsession, Nick is drawn into a desperate struggle not just for her life, but for her very soul. Their fight for survival takes them from the deceptive safety of city streets to the foreboding quiet of a cemetery, where the boundary between the living and those claimed by the shadowy grasp of the dead becomes perilously thin.

One of The Dead weaves a tale not of a zombie apocalypse, but of a quiet invasion, a creeping horror that targets the heart. It's a story of love tested by unfathomable forces, of a battle against an enemy that never rests, never forgives, and never ceases its pursuit until you become one of its own.


You can find the book here.

One of the Dead





About the Author



Richard Farren Barber was born in Nottingham in July 1970. After studying in London he returned to the East Midlands. He lives with his wife and son and works as a manager for a local university.

He’s fairly confident people only read these bios to check the author isn’t a serial killer. (Spoiler alert: he’s not.)

He has over 80 short stories published, seven novellas: “The Power of Nothing”, “The Sleeping Dead”, “Odette”, “Perfect Darkness, Perfect Silence”, “Closer Still”, “All Hell.” , and “Twenty Years Dead.” His two novels are: “The Living and the Lost” and “The Screaming Dead” (Co-authored with Peter Mark May).

Twitter: twitter.com/rfarrenbarber

Facebook: www.facebook.com/richardfarrenbarber

Website:  www.richardfarrenbarber.co.uk


Wednesday, 14 October 2020

October Frights Day 5: Dark Poetry Corner


Today it is time for my annual dark poetry corner, and I have three offerings for you today. I'm stepping away from witches today into the macabre magic of the undead and the Fae. Enjoy.




Bleed Me to Life

 

Immortality

written within the tomb

Saddened fatality

beneath the moon

Who am I,

to stalk the shadows?

Who am I,

but a corpse

 

Blood through the veins

Substance to hunger

You are Life

I am Death

You always crave

what you cannot have

 

A momentary glimpse;

the warmth of breath

against decaying skin

when I hold you, mesmerized

Your lifeblood stolen

to feed my eternity

 

It is not enough,

our flirting dance,

your poignant demise

Even though you've given

me this façade of life,

prolonged my existence

I long to join you

in life or death

Not this forever in-between

 

 


As the Shadows Dance

 

As the shadows dance

under the moon,

against shafts of light

reflecting fire,

the whispering wind

murmurs the names

of the wandering Fae

 

Among the trees, they move,

one with the night,

sapphire eyes searching

for the ghosts lingering

on the edge of forever

 

Left there long ago

by careless words

and broken hearts

Suspended souls, waiting

for broken Fae promises

to be kept

 

Now it is time

for the reaping

Now it is time

for the payment come due

 

The night wails

for the lost souls,

The night mourns

as the Fae collect

And the wind howls;

the last sound of

human trust





Breathless and Chilled

 

In the shadow of the frost,

a last whisper past the twilight,

there creeps a sigh

and a glimmer of the moon

 

Once he held a rose,

the warmth around his heart,

now he sees only ghosts

in the barren, solitary tomb

underneath the ice

 

Winter blows,

down the long road

Winter settles,

in the truth

And her voice echoes,

in his lies





Here's a free book for you

Visions and Nightmares




And don’t forget our group giveaway with 23 great books available.

Ends October 31st.



 Check the books out here.

The October Frights Giveaway


And I have another great giveaway!

C.L. Cannon’s Myths & Legends Reader Giveaway



And be sure to continue on with the rest of our hoppers to see what they’re up to. 


Night to Dawn Magazine & Books LLC

Hawk's Happenings

Heidi Angell

Curiosities

James McDonald

Always Another Chapter

Spreading the Writer's Word

Yours in Storytelling

Carmilla Voiez

Hello Romance

GirlZombieAuthors

Frighten Me

M'habla's!

Angela Yuriko Smith

Brain Matter

NLCARTERWRITES.COM


Thursday, 12 October 2017

#OctoberFrights: After Death



Welcome to Day Three of the October Frights Blog Hop.


Today I have two flash fiction stories about death, and the consequences about lingering beyond your allotted time. Enjoy...




Leftover

I died yesterday.
A heart attack, I think. I remember a pain in my chest, down my arm, and not much else. I saw a flash of a hospital, maybe an operating room, and a voice saying, “time of death, 11:04 AM”.
That’s when I woke up here.
In my own bed.
Yet… it’s not the same place.
It is so silent here, a vast empty nothing of stillness. And I have no voice. I can’t talk, I can’t cry, I can’t even scream. The world around me is painted in shades of grey, a shrouded space of perpetual twilight. The air is cold and heavy, and it feels like it’s pressing on me.
I can see the other world, the world of the living I suppose, like watching through dirty glass. I can see my husband crying when he’s alone. I think I can reach out and touch him. I know I can, I can feel it. I want to reach out… I need to reach out…
He’s right there.
Waiting.
I need to feed.
I’m so, so hungry.

~*~




  
Eternal

Death hates me.
Why else would I still be here? Waiting.
When I’m finally ready.
Perhaps it’s my own fault, a taste of my own feckless behavior. So many times I smiled at him, made him wait for me, promised I would come to him. Then I slipped by him with a smile, another deal for more years, another life stolen to prolong mine.
How many millennia did I cheat him of what I owed?
I lost count. I’d wager he knows.
I thought forever would never get stale.
I had such hubris.
Youth and beauty for eternity, laughing at Death as he chased me.
Always winning.
Always laughing.
Until it stopped being amusing.
I thought the game would last.
I thought he loved me.
Until he refused to play anymore.
Now I am alone.
Waiting for Death.
Why won’t he come for me?



© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved 



Don't forget to enter the giveaway!


October Frights Book Giveaway!





And for more October Frights fun check out the other sites on the hop.


Wednesday, 4 January 2017

Drabble Wednesday: A Strange New Year

Today, on this first Drabble Wednesday of 2017, I bring odd tales of the old year passing into the new...



  
Breakdown

“You just had to take the scenic route! On our end of the year holiday! And now the engine’s failed! And we’re stuck in some backwater nowheresville!”
“How was I to know? The engine was working just fine until, well, five minutes ago.”
“It was working just fine... How many times have I heard that?” Lips turned into a pouty sneer. “How long until mechanical assistance shows up?”
“They said about an hour, depending on their hyper-drive.”
“What! An hour stuck above this dreg of a planet called Earth? What could be worse?”
“Stuck over the spice mines of Kessel?”

~*~





Tales of Time

Father Time and Baby New Year, such quaint images of the one year passing to the next. Iconic representation of endings and beginnings.
Not true, of course.
The truth is far less... simplistic.
The Keeper of Time is more than an old man with a scythe and an hourglass. I am millennia and a millisecond breathing in infinite universes. I change the fabric of existence, snuff heartbeats with a flick of my finger. Each year I grasp life and death in my hands, and inevitably some of you will pass me on my long road.
Will this be your year?

~*~





The Heralding

They say the new year will be better.
They’re not paying attention.
Good.
We like it that way.
The signs are there, but humans are blind to our foul taint. Our coming does peculiar things to a world. Strange climate oddities, increased deaths, unnatural anger and aggression.
And hate.
We love the hate. It feeds us.
We will be strong on this world. We will feast on this world.
Consume it whole and leave nothing but an ashen corpse.
It won’t be long now.
The dead will rise from their graves, and the darklings will live.
Be seeing you soon...






© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved



Wednesday, 19 October 2016

Drabble Wednesday: Undead Things


Today on Drabble Wednesday, come spend a day among the undead...





Fading Memories

A tangerine and cherry red sunset. The clouds seem to dance with the colours. My mother used to say the sky gave us fireworks to welcome the night.
I wonder if I’ll remember her, or sunsets. When it happens. When this me is gone.
I breathe the smell of the dewy grass, and the stink of rotting corpse. You can’t escape that smell anymore.
Damn. Why wasn’t I more careful?
What’s careful anymore? You live until your luck runs out. Like mine did.
I glance at the remains of mutilated zombie, and then at its bite mark on my arm.

~*~





Eulogy

I can still hear the screams.
That’s what happens when you crash your own funeral as a walking corpse. Not that I wanted to attend as the risen undead, or even die for that matter, but I didn’t get a choice. A car accident cut short my life and for the other thing...
Never have an affair with a woman who dabbles in the occult.
Break ups get unnaturally messy.
But I did have the last say, because she screwed up whatever the hell she did.
Now she’s dead with the rest of the funeral party.
She was tasty though.

~*~




Return

The stench of brimstone clings to me. Even inhabiting this corpse I can smell it. In these clothes, the hair, on the skin. I wanted to escape Hell, not bring it with me.
I sigh. Best ignore and keep moving.
I scurry forward, staying to the shadows. I’ve slipped into the body of a woman, that much I know. Someone knifed in an alley, guessing from the blood and where I woke up. At least the wound is healing.
Now I just need to avoid the bounty hunters and kill my back-stabbing husband.
Then we can be in Hell together.





© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved



Saturday, 6 August 2016

Book Spotlight: The Final Life

Today I have a book spotlight on the epic fantasy novel, The Final Life by Andrew Mowere. Enjoy...




The Final Life by Andrew Mowere

It has been 10 thousand years since Odin rose as Unchained. There have been two undead gods behind him, Sklaver and Pyro. Azrael Windslayer, it is whispered, may rise too after his demise. However, the magician's life is turned upside down. Broken and alone, the man meets a young murderer fleeing his guilt.
Glint Stryger is but a bandit brat, yet hopes to join Quicksilver and serve with honor in power driven lands. When things fall apart, the young one stumbles into one eccentric necromancer.
The two band together in a fantastical journey of magic, power, as well as discovery. The first aims to better his life, while the second looks beyond, towards a happiness for mankind that had been denied him. Both hope to do their best, yet know time runs out. After all, one life is never enough.





The Final Life is available at:


Author Bio:

Andrew Mowere is a forty three year old man with an interest in people and worlds. A further obsession with books lead to his current decision to become a writer. He is chaotic by nature, assured he is funny by a loving fiancé, and wishes he could live next to the ocean. His current favorite author is Rothfuss, and his last known read was "Call of Cthulhu", which was absolutely fantastic.
 The Final Life is an epic fantasy. There is really little backstory you need to know before diving in, except that the novel is heavy on magical systems, less so on romance. The first few chapters alternate their narration point. It follows a boy called Glint Stryger and a necromancer named Azrael Windslayer.


Friday, 30 October 2015

Halloween Week: Rebirth


Something’s Coming…






Rebirth

Evening raindrops clung to a broken spider web, and fallen leaves held water like tiny crumbling cups. Silence draped across the forest; the animals fled at sunset when the sky shed its first tear. Even the carrion birds flew away, and the rodents scampered deep down into their holes.
The animals knew.
No moon graced the shrouded sky, and no starry luminosity scattered the inky air swallowing the trees. Fog crept like silky spiders, thick and velvet over the ground, obscuring earth and flora. Grey met black and swirled, mingling, melding in a darkling kiss.
And the night waited.
It waited in stillness, the breath of air grave and expectant with longing. It waited cold and cavernous, as if time gave this occasion pause. And then… past the midnight hour it came. A faint noise from beneath the onyx soil. Scrabbling, scratching, fingernails in the dirt.
Digging upward.
The ground trembled, softly, gently, as if a lover’s touch caressed it. The wind sighed, dancing among the trees and twirling with the hoary mist. Slowly, slowly, the earth gave way, the soil parted, cracked, and a bony hand burrowed out from beneath the world. Then a shoulder, and a head, and the thin skeletal remains of what once was human.
It cried.
A hoarse, guttural pain.
It hungered.



© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved






And so ends today's Halloween fun.
Tomorrow is our last day of Halloween Week, with one last horror story.
I hope you'll join me, as we go for a final walk in the woods...


And remember, for a Halloween treat, both books in my Killers and Demons series
are free until midnight October 31st on Smashwords. 

Check them out here:


Wednesday, 28 October 2015

Drabble Wednesday: Halloween Week

Today on this special Halloween Week edition of Drabble Wednesday, we go in search of the undead






Zombie Confessions

The graveyard smelled of leaf mold and rot.
Or perhaps it was just me. Half my nose fell off yesterday, so my sniffer may not be working correctly. Plus, after two weeks of wandering around as a decaying corpse, my body exuded a ripe stench.
Not that anybody in the cemetery cared; every zombie here smelled terrible. Just something you adjusted to as one of the undead. That, and the boredom. All day, every day, craving brains. Flowers, clouds, people (especially people) it all reminded me of brains.
What I wouldn’t give for a juicy hamburger…
…made of brains.
Drat.
~*~




Invisible

A silent heartbeat, lost among the thumping rhythm of the living.
My stilled heart, unnoticed, my taken life, forgotten.
Life wanders past me, never discerning my presence.
I hear them. Those racing heartbeats, their adrenaline surging, the terrors of the night stabbing at those that surround me. They laugh, to chase away the fear. They glance over their shoulder, shiver, try to pretend it’s their imagination. Do they know something is watching them? I think they do.
Yet, they never see me.
I am invisible.
I am Vampire.
You will never see me coming…
…until you die in my arms.

~*~ 




Alone

It won’t take long.
I’ll be with my family again.
I missed them, all those months away, when I was lost. Something happened to me, something I couldn’t deal with, and I ran. Left my family behind. For their protection, I told myself. My husband, my son, they didn’t have to be part of my madness. For a while I pretended to be happy.
Then I came home. I found my family.
Asleep.
I should feel bad. For biting them, killing them.
For making them zombies, like me.
But I don’t feel bad.
I don’t want to be alone anymore.




© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved






And so ends today's Halloween fun.
Tomorrow I have some more horror fiction for your reading pleasure.

And remember, for a Halloween treat, both books in my Killers and Demons series
are free until midnight October 31st on Smashwords. 

Check them out here:


Thursday, 8 October 2015

October Frights: Double Feature



Welcome to the October Frights Blog Hop!



A little break from the ghosts today, although we do stay with the recently dead. Today’s terrifying treat is a two for one. A double tale take on the afterlife…



Waiting for You...

Darkness.
It breeds fear in the mind. Most tuck it away or dismiss it as an overactive imagination. I know better. I know what lurks in that darkness, the things that hunger.
I know because I’m one of them.
One of the leftover dead.
One of the Forgotten.
That’s what we call ourselves, we revenants of once living things. Most of us are simply echoes of who we used to be. Mist and miasma held together by damaged emotions and need. The reality of what the living refer to as ghosts.
There are others here as well, in this afterlife netherworld, things a bit more tangible, a bit more bloodthirsty. I don’t like to think of them. They are best avoided by the living and the dead.
Yet, we all live in the darkness.
That surreal place in-between the shadows. We are the cold touch on your spine, the whispered breath on the nape of your neck.
We are death.
We are waiting.
We are waiting to feed…
On you
 ~*~


Welcome To Your Afterlife

“Welcome to the Afterlife check-in. Name please.”
Dave stared at the tall, blond… man, standing behind the podium.
“You have wings.”
“Yes, yes I do. It is a common feature among angels. Name please.”
“Why do you have wings, and—wait did you say angel?” Dave gaped at his hushed, mist-covered surroundings. “Where am I? The last thing I remember is a bright light…”
“That would have been the headlights of the semi-truck that hit you. You died sir, and this is the Afterlife check-in. Now, can I please have your name?” A hint of exasperation crept into the angel’s voice.
“Um, it’s Dave Tillman.” Dave watched the other man—no, angel—rifle through a very large book. “I’m dead? For real? This isn’t just a wacky dream?”
“You are quite dead, sir. Here you are.” The angel stopped flipping pages in his book. “Oh my. This is unusual. A rarity indeed.” The angel closed his book with flourish. “It appears, sir, you have been granted the singular privilege of choosing your afterlife. Congratulations.”
The angel moved from behind the podium and held out his hand.  “If you would come with me please.”
The angel led Dave to what appeared to be a TV screen hanging in mid air. A remote materialized in the angel’s hand.
“You’ve been given three options to choose from. Please watch the screen as I run them.”
He clicked the remote and Dave looked at the images on the screen. The first scene showed a sunny beach resort.
“I’m not too crazy about sun and sand. Next.”
A click of the remote and Dave viewed a busy casino. “That looks okay. Maybe. What’s next.”
“This one is our Happy Home Package, sir.”
An image of a luxury home popped on screen, shifting to an interior shot of a living room boasting a big screen TV and a plush recliner. Several beers were visible on a side table.
“Now that looks good. What else comes with it?”
“The package come complete with a red Ferrari, a blond, well-endowed homemaker wife, no tedious chores or job, 1000 TV channels—500 of which are sports networks—and a billionaire’s bank account.”
“Now that does sound good. I’ll take that one.”
“As you wish.” The angel snapped his fingers.
The world around Dave vanished, and he found himself inside a opulent home, just like the one on screen.
Dave grinned. “Now what?”
“Now you live out your afterlife, sir. Right here. Forever.” The angel smiled.
For some reason Dave shivered.
“Why don’t you look out the window, sir, at your new neighbourhood.”
“Okay.” Dave moved and peered out the picture window. “It’s kind of quiet. Nobody around. Is that part of the package? No noisy neighbours? If so, I like that—wait, I think there is someone. Hey! Someone is out there. Someone’s running toward—”
Bang! The window thumped and cracked as a body threw itself against the glass. Dave yelped and scrambled backward. Rotting hands fumbled against the pane, trying to get inside.
Dave screeched. “That’s a zombie! A zombie! What-what is this? What’s going on?”
“This is the deluxe Happy Home package, sir. Here comes your lovely wife now, with a plate of cookies fresh from the oven.”
A tall, blond, buxom woman, with a rotting smile, and a pus infected face shuffled into the room. She did indeed carry a plate of warm cookies, wonderfully decorated with maggots.
Upon seeing her “husband” she hissed, “Brainnnsss!” and dropped the plate. She made a beeline toward Dave, who snatched up a nearby chair.
Fending off his “wife” with the chair, Dave shrieked, “Help me! Get me out of here!”
“I can’t, sir. The rules you know.”
“Rules? What rules?” He ducked his head as his “wife” swiped at his ear trying to get around the chair. More and more zombies were banging at windows and smashing at the front door. Slowly the glass and wood were starting to give way. “You have to help! This isn’t what I ordered!”
“Oh, but it is. Did I forget to mention? I’m a fallen angel, and this is Hell’s Afterlife check-in. Happy eternity!”
The angel disappeared in a haze of laughter, as the wood splintered on the front door and several windows shattered. Zombies poured into the house.
Dave's shrieks were drowned in the ear-splitting, chanting chorus of "Brainnnsss!"


© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved







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Thursday, 13 November 2014

Book Spotlight: THE GHOUL ARCHIPELAGO

Today we join the ranks of the ravenous undead as I feature the novel, The Ghoul Archipelago: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller by Stephen Kozeniewski, in a book spotlight.


The Ghoul Archipelago: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller

by Stephen Kozeniewski 



After ravenous corpses topple society and consume most of the world’s population, freighter captain Henk Martigan is shocked to receive a distress call. Eighty survivors beg him to whisk them away to the relative safety of the South Pacific. Martigan wants to help, but to rescue anyone he must first pass through the nightmare backwater of the Curien island chain.

A power struggle is brewing in the Curiens. On one side, the billionaire inventor of the mind-control collar seeks to squeeze all the profit he can out of the apocalypse. Opposing him is the charismatic leader of a ghoul-worshipping cargo cult. When a lunatic warlord berths an aircraft carrier off the coast and stakes his own claim on the islands, the stage is set for a bloody showdown.

To save the remnants of humanity (and himself), Captain Martigan must defeat all three of his ruthless new foes and brave the gruesome horrors of...THE GHOUL ARCHIPELAGO.


The Ghoul Archipelago is available at Amazon






Author's Bio


Stephen Kozeniewski (pronounced "causin' ooze key") lives with his wife and two cats in Pennsylvania, the birthplace of the modern zombie. During his time as a Field Artillery officer, he served for three years in Oklahoma and one in Iraq, where due to what he assumes was a clerical error, he was awarded the Bronze Star. He is also a classically trained linguist, which sounds much more impressive than saying his bachelor's degree is in German.



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