Psychology Today states that psychopaths are born, not made.
When the line between fantasy and reality is crossed, there is no turning back to the way things used to be.
Since turning the Hood’s abandoned fall out shelter into his private sex dungeon, and kidnapping Samantha King & Megan Reed, Jimmy Hawthorne is learning this lesson firsthand. It doesn’t take long before real life intrudes, and his fantasy of having his very own sex slaves reminds him of the rabbit he didn’t like taking care of as a kid.
Renacting his favorite scenes from bondage sites and fetish videos only get him so far. As the thrill and excitement wane, he considers just sealing up the shelter and walking away. But, he knows that he would still be drawn to them. Even in death, the call will always be stronger than his will.
Real life contains the regular intrusions as well. a new girlfriend, [Tina], the ass-hat classmates [Brett, Matt, and Paulie], who try to play the ‘bully’ role, and a younger brother, [Alan], who’s perception is just short of Hercule Poirot’s. The local police presence is growing, and his school prom is just around the corner.
All these things combined make for one kick ass and intense story.
This should go without saying, but, JIMMY is an 18+ story. Since I’ve reviewed a couple YA books lately, I figure it can’t hurt to throw that in.
I received an early copy of GIVING UP THE GHOST from Dan in February. Right when I started it, my dad died. I read it on the plane, going to the funeral. I know this might sound strange to most of you, but, this story helped me get through the next few days! I took much comfort in it. Odd place to find peace, in a horror novel, but I did! The story is excellent! I cried, I laughed out loud, I got angry… I fell in love with these characters.
Gerry Sheffield is a real piece of work. Can’t keep a job, can’t stay any sort of sober, and he has always relied on his parents to bail him out of the trouble he can’t seem to keep himself out of. A grown man who won’t take responsibility.
After a particularly nasty bender, and a run-in with his landlord, Gerry is calling his parents, again – not asking for help as much as demanding their help. After all, they are his parents. It’s their job to look out for their son.
His parents, Margo & Bill, are at the end of their rope.
They’d always tried to help their son. The college tuition that was wasted, the car repairs, the down payment on his now ex-wife’s house, everything. They’re out of patience, and they’re almost out of means. After 27 years, they decide – no more. Clean up your self, clean up your act, put on your big-boy pants & cowboy the fuck up.
The following morning, Gerry gets two checks.
One is for his rent & a thousand bucks for the month.
The second… a great big really check from his dad.
This is it. No more. Sink or swim.
Gerry actually makes a whole-hearted attempt, one last shot to make something of his life, to make his father proud! But, within a day, any chance of walking the straight & narrow is blown. He’s actually made things far worse!
Self righteousness mixed with self pity doesn’t make a good combination. So, once again convincing himself that his problems are all because of someone else, Gerry’s anger helps propel him into calling his parents, to blame Bill & Margo for every single thing that has ever gone wrong in his entire miserable existence. It is bad. He finally says the things that make his parents turn their backs, close their hearts and lock him out. He’s gone too far this time. Realizing what he has done, Gerry’ s hurt eventually gives itself over to hate. And, Gerry lands himself in jail. Again.
Read GIVING UP THE GHOST to find out how far Bill & Margo willing to go to get Gerry to change his ways.
After death, is there anything they won’t do?
GIVING UP THE GHOST by Dan Dillard will be available June 1’st
Zombie Erotica. You know these individual words, but these words together? It gives you a ‘o.O’ moment. Zombie Erotica could lead to some very disturbing thoughts and imagery. Let me assure you, this is not a disgusting or disturbing story! Quite the contrary. Tonia is a master at erotica, and a master at zombies, for LUCKY STIFF she brings the two together and creates a novel like none other. A novel that induced laughter, tears, excitement, and a little tingly feeling in the nether-regions ::winks:: Yes. She’s that damn good.
This is a story about one of my favorite Peter characters. (You read my posts, you know who the other one is. THIS Peter is the original Peter in my literary love life. Peter Lyles.)
Peter and his buddies are off on an epic Spring Break trip, one that they’re going to make sure ends up in the record books. Off to New Orleans for some much needed R & R, their vacation takes a wicked wrong turn when Peter downs a fistfull of Roofies – instead of the sleeping pills his friend ‘Drugstore Dave’ said they were. A few hours later… Dave, Jack, and Mooch find Peter right where they left him – only now he’s cold to the touch & blue! While freaking out and contemplating a future filled with back-door invasions from their prison husbands, Mooch remembers Madam Sangrail – the Voodoo Queen, from his old neighborhood. “People said she could do things. Or… un-do them.” Madam Sangrail’s flavor of magick¹ brings back an undead Peter – a kind of undead you’ve never known existed, but, the kind of undead that makes the impending Zombie Apocalypse sound like it might not seem so bad!
Be sure to check out my interview with Tonia, links to her and all her work HERE, in the ‘Coffee Talk‘ pillow fort!
This was the first book of Tonia’s that I read, it’s the book that led to my first real conversation (& eventual unbreakable bond) with Joy Killar, which led to meeting & becoming friends with Tonia! Funny how life works. All this from downloading a sample of a book because a book cover discovered during a Google image search intrigued me!
¹ Magick: Not to be confused with stage “magic.” Magick is art of utilizing natural forces around us to bring about change. Magick is neutral, neither good, nor evil. The practitioner decides how they would like to focus this natural energy.
*Oysters? Diamonds? Conch Chowder? Spanish Fly? Amateurs.
Poetry? Flowers? Lingerie? Perfume? Pretenders.
The truest, most powerful aphrodisiac isn’t any of these – it is hate. Sex does not live in our heads or our hearts, sex lives in our bowels, in the dark spaces within and below. Sex resides in our loins where hate festers, masticating us from within until we explode in a rage of passion. I am hate. I was not born of God’s heart or spirit, but emerged from his mighty taint to expose the power of hate, to show that it is the envy of love. To love someone is to think of them three times, five times, ten times a day. To hate thim is to never have them out of your thoughts. To hate someone is to be smothered by them, overwhelmed by feeling, made alive by their very existence. Love can be cured by a slight, by gossip, by rumor, by a pair of socks left unhampered or a slip of the tounge at a dinner party. Love is fragile. Love is the lie we tell ourselves to make all the other lies manageable. Hate is pure, though. Hate endures against all logic, against all arguement, against any attempted reconciliation. Send me chocolates, I still hate you. Say you’re sorry, I still hate you. Fix what you have broken, I still hate you. And what is a more powerful, complete and devastating expression of hate than sex? Is there a better way to focus hate than to purify it in the places where it is most comfortable? Have sex with someone you love and then have sex with someone you hate, and then tell me which is more satisfying. Tell me who you would rather see vunerable, empty, weakened to their most base and animalistic, a lover or an enemy? I pity those that love me more than those that hate me because the haters feel what I feel. The haters see me as I see them. I am bound to the haters by experience. To hate me is to understand me, to understand me is to love me – and to be loved by me. My experience of what you call love is limited, and that love is poisoned by pain. Hate, though? I’m lousy with hate. Hate is where I live. Those that claim to not hate might as well claim to not breathe or eat or think. To exist is to hate. To be alive is to understand that “you” is the truest word and that the only way to join another is to connect with their hate of you and your hate of them. I hate because I seek connection with the world. I seek understanding, a shared experience, a brotherhood with man. I yearn to be hated, so please, hate me my loves. Hate me with all that you are. Climax with hate at the very thought of me and together we will see the world.
“There is but one truely serious psychological problem – and that is suicide.”
~ Albert Camus
The life of a small town…
The death of a small town…
Gethsemane was a small rural town. As small rural towns went it was a sleepy little burg. It woke up with the sun. It went to bed with the moon. The fields had been planted, and now the farmers watched them grow.
And the teenagers who normally ran rampant about the town – fucking, drinking, and vandalizing away the days – were afraid to leave their houses.
The teenagers in Gethsemane are dying.
When the news and papers finally pick up the story, they call it ‘The Suicide Virus’, but two residents of this town, Stephen & Elise, know differently. This is no virus.
But, let us not get ahead of ourselves here. THE SORROW KING is not the first thing I’ve read by Anderson Prunty, although it is the best so far. When I picked up the others, it was before I knew what Bizarro Fiction was, before I knew Prunty’s name. Knowing this now, I fully intend to go back and re-read my copy of Jack and Mr. Grin, and dive into the (at least) five other titles I already own.
Prunty does an excellent job with characterization. I got to know the main players well, Steven & Elise, Steven’s dad – Conner, Drifter Ken…(I would like more on this character – a SS maybe? There’s another story in Ken Blanchard.) You can get a feel of each character, without ever getting the feeling of TMI.
Alright. That’s way more than I’ve ever said on that. The story just grabs you in the first chapter, and never let up. I never had a moment of wanting to stop reading, and when I had to… I’d start again asap. This wasn’t one that just sat there like – ‘meh. whenever.’ It’s dark. Surreal.
It’s uncomfortable in spots. Capturing the teenaged mind all too vividly, it drags you through those disheartening emotions. Those days when every trouble is multiplied x100. There are some graphic sexual pieces. But, your not a prude. Not if your reading my reviews. They may be cringe worthy if you remember their ages, I do know a lot Steven’s sexual fantasies now. Hmm.
Back to the story.
The teenagers in Gethsemane (Ohio) are dropping like flies. Dying in apparent suicides. Steve knows better, he feels it, he’s writing about it in his sleep, but how can he stop it? Elise knows better, too. But, she believes she might be part of the problem.
Conner, desperately trying to make certain his son doesn’t become a statistic, starts looking for answers, too. The story he hears from the town’s Drifter is one of ghosts and poisoned towns.
Behind it all, is the Sorrow King. The Jackthief. And he’s growing stronger each day.
Did that grab ya? How ’bout this… “There are no happy endings in Hell”.
Poor Nina. A girl who’s faults can be chalked up to some bad decision making, but it’s those bad decisions that led her down the path she is on today… working off her debt to the mob by spending year after year in a seedy whore-house, ran by an evil & hateful Madam.
Drugs, greed, and a lowlife boyfriend. That combination is what drove her to trying to steal from some very powerful mobsters. Not willing to let this deed go unpunished, they choose to make her work it off. Threats on her family and fear for their lives drive her to make good on this, so when she is able to leave – she’ll be able to live her life without worrying about a past that could catch up with her.
Fast forward five years. Nina, who is still working on her back with the most foul human beings on earth, is given a One Time Only deal. One more client. One last trick. Half a million dollars. Debt is paid, free and clear – with a little left over to get her back home with her mom. How bad could it be? Hasn’t she seen all there is to see in the past five years? Is there any level of humiliation she hasn’t already suffered? Half a million dollars! Surely, an odd, reclusive, old man isn’t going to be the thing that stands between her and her freedom! As she enters his home – she realizes just how wrong she was. Even I didn’t expect the horrors that Nina walked into. Could anyone experience the terror within these walls and remain sane enough to live another day?
The Good Girls is a short story. But – the horror & insanity that is packed into those 29 pages made the back of my eyes itch, and I had to turn on the lights. AMD’s writing gave me such a clear visual and a sense of unease that I haven’t been able to shake off yet.
Download your copy of The Good Girls, Daddy is waiting for you…and Daddys ready to eat.