Once Upon a Halloween...

As part of the WEP Blogfest, I'm sharing a Halloween-themed short story today. This story features Zane, Kev and Elise from MY ZOMBIE DOG in an all new tale:

Once Upon a Halloween

I lean in, the torch illuminating my solemn expression. Outside the wind howls and our tent rustles. It’s the perfect backdrop for my Halloween story. 'Once upon a time—'

   Elise exhales a dramatic sigh and makes a show of dropping her shoulders.

   'Something wrong Elise?'

   'S-boring Zane. Don like 'pon time stories.'

   'Yeahsh,' Kev agrees through cheekfulls of marshmallow. 

   My turn to sigh. 'Fine. A long time ago, in a faraway town—'

  'Uhhhghhh.' They complain in unison. A marshmallow bounces off my forehead.

   I point the torch at my little sister. 'Do you want to tell the story?'

   Elise shrugs. 'Spose to be scary.'

   Kev scrambles up from his sleeping bag. 'Zanie boy here doesn’t like scary stories—do you Zane?'

   Elise giggles.

   'He gets so scared he needs to leave all the lights in the house on when he sleeps.'

   This is totally unfair of my so-called buddy. It was one sleepless night, I’m really not that easily scared. The torch light dims and we are thrust into a moment of darkness. I shake the torch until finally the light flickers back on. Phew.

   'Wan a story with a sseep.'

   'A scary story with a sheep?' I ask.

   'Yeah, and a turtle.' Thanks Kev.

   'How is a sheep and a turtle scary?'

   'Zaaane.' Elise’s bottom lip pokes out.

   'Okay… One dark and stormy night a sheep and a turtle set out to cross through forbidden tunnel—'

   'Why would a sheep and turtle want to go through a tunnel?' Kev asks.

   'Because… they were meeting with a duck at the fountain in town. So anyway, they set toward the forbidden tunnel and the turtle says—'

   'Why’s it forbidden?'

   'Because there were rumours that a scary monster lived under it.' Pretty proud of that one, made it up on the spot.

   'Eh, that’s alright, but it’d be better if one year ago to the day a horrible, horrible murder took place right in the middle of that very tunnel.' Kev snatches the light and flashes it on his face. His ginger eyebrows are casting fuzzy shadows on his forehead and it’s creeping me out.

   I cough and nod my head toward Elise.

   'Wan’ scary hobbible murder story!' She squeals. 

   Great. She’ll probably have nightmares.

   'Ohh, I don’t know Elise,' Kev says, 'Zane might get too scared!' 

   Elise giggles.

   'Will not! I’m fine!'

  'You sure Dude? Remember what happened last time we went camping?'

   'That was ages ago, and besides, I told you, I just had too much orange juice.'

   'All right then… so the sheep and turtle approach the tunnel and the turtle’s saying how it was exactly midnight that the last animals were slaughtered in this very tunnel one year ago. The sheep looks at his watch—'

   'Hey!' I protest, but Elise shushes me and turns attentively back to Kev’s illuminated face. I try not to look at his dancing eyebrows. 

   'The sheep looks at his watch and says, Hey it’s almost midnight now. Well sheep are pretty stupid because they continue on into the tunnel, which is very, very dark. Halfway through they stop and the sheep asks: did you hear that? They listen and there’s a scraping noise along the wall. It sounds just like a sharp knife being dragged along the stones. Scrape… scraaaape… scraaaape…'

   I grab Elise’s arm. You know, just to make sure she’s okay. We both lean in close.

   'They try to run to reach the exit of the tunnel where they can see a slither of moonlight, but ahead of them comes that same scraaaape…. scraaaape… and they see…' Kev’s voice trails off into a whisper.

   I bite my lip and lean in closer.

   'What? What do they see?'

   Kev leans in too, so we’re all really close and he whispers, 'They see a shadow, it becomes clearer in the moonlight … and that’s when they notice its face…'

   Friday the 13^th stabbing music blasts from Kev’s phone.

   'Eeeek!' I squeal, I mean, I think it was Elise who squealed.

   'Zane scared!' Elise giggles.

   Kev speaks into the phone, 'Yep … no probs … I’ll ask.'

   'Dude,' he nods to me, 'it’s your mum, she wants to know if we want hot chocolate?'

   I look out the flap of the tent and see mum waving from the kitchen window. Sure. Hot chocolate would be good, may as well have it inside, no point in making her bring it all the way out here. I very calmly agree and slowly make my way up to the house.

   'Hey!' Kev calls after me, 'You don’t need to run!'

Find more spooky stories, or join the blogfest at:

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Join the Spooky Blogfest for Halloween!

Denise Covey is hosting a fun Halloween blogfest. We might not be big on the actual trick or treating here in Australia, but we do like our spooky stories!

Want to write something spooky for Halloween? Pop on over to Denise's site: 

http://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com.au/

 to join up.  You could write a story... or a haiku!

On my new site for kids and teens, I show how to write a spooky haiku - you can check it out at:

iTeenWrite

I'll be sharing a story here on October 30, and I look forward to reading a few spooky tales!

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Zombie Picking & FREE Kindle Book!

My Zombie Picks
Zombies are actually the only monsters I am really afraid of. They give me the total heebies! I originally wrote My Zombie Dog, after writing a long, long list of all my phobias for story prompts and shuffling, staggering, festering, brain-sucking creatures were on top! I'm most scared of them just touching me with their rotting flesh.
But, to challenge myself, I did write a zombie story which has now turned into a series. Undead Kev (sequel to My Zombie Dog) will be released to Kindle in February and in paperback in March. I also try to challenge myself reading zombie literature (I tried to play The Walking Dead game on the iPad, but the intro was too scary for me).
Here's my top zombie picks:

The Forest of Hands and Teeth. This novel is so lyrical you'll forget you're reading about undead creatures wanting to tear at your flesh. Not a fast-paced story, but beautifully written. My only gripe with this one is the Kindle book is way overpriced, so go for the paperback!

Chasers from the Alone series. Not your typical zombie story, because technically, they're not zombies. But they are very zombie-like and they're everywhere! Follow a group of teenagers as they try to not only survive, but find out what's happening to everyone around them. Your jaw will drop when you get to the twist at the end. VERY CLEVER!Undead. Hilarious. During a high school trip, everyone except a couple of students (who were left on the bus and of course would never in a million years get along) turn into zombies. 

Don't forget for the younger zombie lover (9-13) you can't go pastMy Zombie Dog ;). The book launch was a blast and the kids loved having the face-painter turn them into zombies. As a special promotion for the holiday season, you can download the Kindle version of My Zombie Dog for free, just for December 7th and 8th.

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Art Prompts Fiction - Romantic Friday Writers

Is it just me, or do his eyes follow you around the room?

My writers group (Vannguard Writers) took an excursion to Queensland Art Gallery. Ok, so the art gallery is right next door to the State Library where we have our writing sessions, so it wasn't a big excursion, but still it was a nice change in routine.

Denise Covey, friend and fellow Vannguard writer, hosted this arty session with some creative writing exercises using the artworks as prompts (you can read more about this excursion on Denise's blog). One of the exercises was to imagine yourself as a character in the painting, or put yourself as an extra character into the scene. I flipped this around and took my character out of the painting... literally.

Getting yourself out and about, using prompts to inspire can freshen up your writing, and new layers and textures. Maybe you could visit a museum and write about the interesting items or times, or, a restaurant and write about the smells, tastes and atmosphere.

This week Romantic Friday Writers are hosting a horror blog challenge, and I decided my response to our art exercise would fit in nicely. So if you're up for a bit of afternoon horror, here's my take on the requirement of a scary tale with a touch of romance... (1,000 words - FCA as always, I welcome critique and am not at all sensitive to feedback)

John Opie's Portrait

Christina tugged at the chrome armchair. It was heavy, but with some focused grunts she managed to pull it across the large glass doors. She sighed. Her arms burned, but she couldn’t stop now. She’d have to make sure he couldn’t push those doors open. Exhausted but determined she manoeuvred all six armchairs shoved up against each other.

Feeling safely hidden for the moment she allowed herself the luxury of sinking down to the floor. He would come for her, she could only pray the doors would hold. Outside she heard the wailing of mechanical monsters. So many inventions in this world! Like the voices. When she’d found that poor man in the darkened corridor crumpled in a pile, his uniform patch announcing Chubb Security, Christina had bent to see if she could help him. Too late, she knew as soon as she saw his life spread  to form a dark stain. She’d spun to run, but heard them. The voices. Looking back she thought they came from the dead man. Crackling demons taunting. But there was a box by his side and someone called Doug was checking in on Larry. She didn’t know what checking in involved, but she knew a worried voice when she heard it. She called to the voice, begged him to come, to send help. She warned him the devil himself was loose. 

The only response was a repeat for Larry to check in. She could hear him but some dark magic kept him from hearing her. Maybe help would come in time? She’d didn’t think so. Each time she was pulled from the dark into a newer version of her world, he’d come for her. That was all she could remember. Everything else was hazy. There was only him, his need for her.  And John! It was coming back now. John had warned her, tried to save her each time. Did he succeed? She didn’t think so. If he had, all their souls would be at rest. Instead she kept being ripped from that horrid painting. 

It was always the same and yet Christine could not conjure a clear memory of how the events would run.

She looked around the room only dimly lit from outside. The walls were adorned in many paintings and small round tables displaying pottery and china under glass boxes. She pulled herself up and moved about the room, treading softly so as not to make a sound. She squinted at the plaque by the door, there was just enough light from the hall to read Brisbane State Art Gallery. She knew not of Brisbane. The last time she emerged from the painting she was still in London. The painting had been shipped to this new location. And those foolish teenagers had obviously known the legend and snuck in here on this ungodly night to conjure their own dark magic. But to summon him? Surely the stories of his violence and taste for blood had survived the hundreds of years since the fire. John had made sure the world knew about the Count, the monster he really was. 

But the girl, maybe sixteen with witches eyes and sharp metal swords and rings pierced all over her face, had thought she was resurrecting a lost love. The love between Christina and the Count. It may have started that way, but John Opie came riding his carriage into town, armed with scientific equipment, little pins wobbling along measuring unknown entities and vials of hissing and foaming liquids. He’d been tracking the Count for years. He claimed the charismatic man was actually a demon sent from the depths of hell to devour human souls. Christine had laughed off the claims about her husband. But girls started to disappear. One by one. All of Christine’s servant girls. The Count in turn accused Mr Opie. 

The Newspaper clippings had convinced her. One for each of the places the Count had lived and visited. Missing girls. It was true.

Fire is the only way to return a demon to hell. Christine slipped from her husband’s bed and burned their home down. She would have made her way out too, out to her beloved John. But her husband awakened with a vigour and caught hold of her.

‘Then we die together,’ he’d snarled. And they had. As the flickering heat enveloped the room she saw their wedding portrait remained unharmed. Mocking her through the the flames. 

The teenagers had frightened her with their chants, but she was more terrified when she turned to see the Count smiling beside her. She’d screamed and run.

In the darkened art gallery she’d stumbled about until she’d come full circle. There were the teens. Dead in a heap. She ran on. The man with the Chubb badge stretched across the floor. The sound of the Count calling to her.

‘Christine, my love, wait!’ He appeared, arms stretched to reach her. She spun to the right and ducked down a corridor. Now she hid in the darkened room alone. Or was she? A shadow moved in the corner. She wanted to scream but was too weary with fear.

The silhouette stepped forward until the moonlight through the window revealed his face.

‘John!’ She leapt into his arms.

‘Christine, you bought me back,’ he smiled down at her.

‘I’m so sorry, I tried to come to you, but he held me back, I… I couldn’t get out.’

‘Shhh, it’s okay now. I was there too. I came for you.’

Christine stepped back. ‘But you couldn’t have. I sent the servants home and locked every door.’

‘You remember how this goes?’ John smiled.

‘I don’t understand, I’m confused…’

‘Christine!’ The Count banged on the glass doors.

She gasped and leaned into John’s strong protective arms. 

‘Christine!’ The Count yelled, ‘It was him, he’s the monster, run Christine!’

Christine spun to look up at John, but his face had changed, his teeth exposed, long and pointed. She tried to run, but it was too late.

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Z is for Zombies!

Zombies are the only monster that actually gives me the heebie-jeebies. When I was about five or six, my parents went to the drive-in to see a late night zombie flick, assuming I'd stay fast asleep on the back seat. I woke towards the end, just in time to see a mob of zombies rip through the wall of a house and attack the only survivors inside. I was not able to watch another zombie movie after that until peer-pressured to see Shaun of the Dead - I still shivered.

But I got tougher and after freaking out when Hubby bought home The Walking Dead TV series, I actually sat and watched it with him... if by 'watched' I can count running in and out of the room several times screaming. It's now one of my favourite shows (although I still can't look most of the time) and I am addicted to the graphic novel of the same name. I even have a PINTEREST board of ZOMBIES.

It might seem silly that I wrote a kids horror zombie story, MY ZOMBIE DOG, when I can't bare to even watch a zombie flick. But that's one of the ways this story came about. I had a fear sheet where I wrote everything that scares me. Plus I had that zombie dog that one time...

What freaks you out? (My list is very long).

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