Best Book Cover 2014 Semi-finalist

semifinalist

Hi! I would like to thank everyone who voted for 100 NIGHTMARES. The book cover, created by great artist Dan Verkys, is currently a semi-finalist for BEST BOOK COVER 2014 at AuthorsdB. Yay! <3

I need your votes for the small category finals so please, please visit the page and vote for 100 Nightmares! A 5-star rating would be awesome! ;) Voting ends on November 22 22:00 PST. You won’t have to register or anything, just visit the page and click. http://authorsdb.com/books/2014-book-cover-contest/2014-book-cover-semi-finalists-end/horror-semi/100-nightmares

THANKS AGAIN!! :) Let’s win this thing!

100-nightmares-x900

Adam Ickes’ Wicked Little Things Cover Reveal

Hello! Just found out that friend and fellow horror author Adam Ickes will be releasing a new horror collection entitled Wicked Little Things and I’m participating in his cover reveal blog blast. It’s the follow-up to his first collection, 100 tiny tales of terror. Like 100 Nightmares, both books consist of 100 stories written in 100 words. Wicked Little Things is set to hit the digital book shelves on December 1, 2014 but it’s already available for preorder!

You can buy the book through this link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00PHZWYHK

100-volume2-ebook2

Book Blurb:

100 tiny tales of terror gave birth to 100 monstrosities.

The time has come for 100 more tales of terrible things to haunt your dreams and drive home a healthy dose of fear of those horrible creatures that dwell mostly in the darkness, but sometimes in the light.

Devour these Wicked Little Things in one sitting if you think your fragile mind can handle it, or drink them in one at a time and let your fright strangle your sanity as the fear really sinks in and takes hold.

Adam shared a couple of sample stories from the collection…

Unassuming

He’d sat on the same bench every day–hours at a time–for almost six months, watching, waiting. He wasn’t in a hurry. He’d known an opportunity would present itself eventually, and he wasn’t wrong.

One day, a little girl on the verge of tears came up to him.

“I can’t find my mommy,” the child said.

“That’s awful. Would you like me to help you look for her?” he asked.

The little girl nodded and wiped her budding tears away. He stood up and held out his hand. She took it willingly. Together they walked toward the parking lot.

Beauty and the Beast

The creature’s crooked claws stroked the severed head in its lap. The beast’s disfigured face studied the girl in the cage across the room. She cried thick, heavy tears and sobbed in the corner of the tiny cage. Her sobs made the beast’s ears ache.

It threw the head–that of the girl’s own father–at the cage to shut her up, but she only sobbed louder and screamed incoherent pleas. She begged for mercy, but mercy would not come at the hands of the monstrosity who called the castle home. Only death and misery were welcome within those walls.

About the author:

adamickes

Adam Ickes is a writer who has made a home in central Pennsylvania with his wife and daughter. He is obsessed with releasing the horrors in his mind on an unsuspecting world. His stories live and fester in the twisted confines of his imagination before demanding to be released from their prison, usually at gunpoint.

Follow Adam Ickes:
Blog
Twitter
Mailing List
Amazon Author Page

Achievement

I consider seeing my stories in print as some sort of achievement. :)

Camera 360

Amok: an Anthology of Asia-Pacific Speculative Fiction and the story that I wrote showed up in the paper and got a positive review <3

Amok: an Anthology of Asia-Pacific Speculative Fiction and the story that I wrote showed up in the paper and got a positive review <3

Camera 360.

I never expected that my first solo e-book would get this much love but I'm glad and thankful. <3

100 Nightmares is #5 in Amazon Top Rated Horror Anthologies. I never expected that my first solo e-book would get this much love but I’m glad and thankful. <3

Floppy Shoes Apocalypse: A Clown Horror Anthology

91J89Q+GCvL._SL1500_

New from J. Ellington Ashton Press and Wet Works: EXTREME CLOWN HORROR AT ITS BEST! I’m very proud to have a story in this anthology.

What happens when a man finds out mid-fuck that his wife had caught the Clown Clap? Find out in my story, “They Died Laughing”.

I’ve read the book and I can honestly say that it blew me away.

Jim Goforth’s character, the Mangler is guaranteed to give you nightmares and Dona Fox’s story will definitely touch your smokin’ cotton candy heart. In T.S. Woolard’s story, the damn clowns are everywhere! Lose yourself in Magenta Nero’s frightening yet fabulous Temple of Clowns… Meet Lisa Dabrowski’s the Clownfather, Essel Pratt’s Yolo, Stuart Keane’s Bobollocks and many other colorful and demented characters! Roger Cowin couldn’t have said it better: The Clownpocalypse has begun.

Edited by Alex S. Johnson and John Ledger, with introduction by professional clown and author Magan “Lovey” Rodriguez

with original stories from Mary Genevieve Fortier, Thomas M. Malarfina, Jeff O’Brien, Michael Fisher, Essel Pratt, Lisa Dabrowski, Sebomai Thaumiel, Dona Fox, K.Z. Morano, Stuart Keane, Magenta Nero, T.S. Woolard, Kent Hill, Kyle M. Scott, Aaron Besson, Jim Goforth, and Roger Cowin


Floppy Shoes Apocalypse: A Clown Horror Anthology
is now available via Amazon and Createspace

100 Nightmares featured in PromoteHorror

Thanks, HorrO, for showing 100 Nightmares some love. <3

http://www.promotehorror.com/2014/11/100-nightmares.html

PromoteHorror.com spreads the horror all day, every day! Follow the website for the latest in horror films, books, and merchandise. :)

xo

Throwback Tales: The Hole in Her Soul

The Hole in Her Soul
By K.Z. Morano

Every night, spirits visit her bed like an orgiastic parade of shadows… taking turns in penetrating the hole in her soul. She’s sad and vulnerable. She used to fake it in school, lying on the floor, rolling her eyeballs and mimicking an epileptic seizure. She would gibber in an alien tongue and spout sinister phrases like “worship me” or “I will kill you”… Unoriginal, but it gets them every time. She has a histrionic personality… an attention whore just like me.

Tonight, it’s my turn. I slip inside her hungry, hospitable hole and she fits perfectly like a skin glove. There’s just a kind of softness in the female body that I like. So I make her pick up the knife and start mutilating the most tender parts… her breasts, her nipples, the delicate inside of her thighs… She chews on the meat and it saddens me that there’s no one around to witness.

I try to think of her body as an easy-to-use rented vehicle. Eventually, I’m going to have to turn her over to the others. I don’t own her. But I want to. So I leave a mark. Her fingers tremble as she carves my name on her belly. We have fun for a little while. We do the things that she likes. Like going to church…

Everyone eyeballs the shabbily dressed lady as she walks down the aisle in the middle of ‘The Fraction’. She’s all skin and bones now. Cuts mar her arms and there are eggplant-colored bruises on her pallid skin. Cobwebs of saliva drip from her palsied mouth. She walks with a limp because I’ve kept her for myself for several days and we’ve been having so much fun together.

As the priest breaks the unleavened wafer of Christ, she grabs one of the small crucifixes and I make her pleasure herself with it. Horrified gasps leave every throat; the faithful’s faces whiten. People make a huge deal out of it. I love it. The last thing I want is to fade into anonymity. Prying hands start grabbing her arms and I fight them off with the strength of ten men. Incoherent prayers bounce off the church’s walls as the people mutter Hail Mary’s and the Lord’s Prayer as if their tongues are on fire. For once, they actually mean it.

The priest starts sprinkling holy water on us and it irritates me. I decide to put on a show and make her skin seethe into pink mist, exposing some skeleton. The praying stops only to be replaced by terrified cries. Some people hide, shaking behind the pews; the others start rushing towards the exit. It takes a lot of strength from me, but I seal the heavy wooden doors by sheer will. I want… no, I need an audience. When my laughter pours out from her mouth, the sound is like breaking mirrors. I want to do more things, to show them more tricks. I want them to tremble… to question their faith. But more than that, I just want to be noticed.

The other spirits use this body for small acts… unlike me, they refuse to go all-out. They’re more concerned about lingering in this world… using her physical form as a tool to exact their petty vengeance, to cling to earthy possessions and to relive the pleasures that they’ve missed. So they use her up little by little, masking themselves behind a diagnosis of psychosis. They carefully preserve her body, maintaining its undernourished yet active state. She deserves better than that. She deserves better than to live her life in between episodes of mania and depression and states of fugue. She deserves to be immortalized.

The racks of candles collapse and scarlet and tangerine tongues lick their way towards the altar. The life-size crucified Christ falls face down onto the ground. Soon, her physical body fails me. So I allow her to faint as several men pin us to ground. People try to put out the fire. The priest starts yelling for me to get out. As if he’s so clean… as if I couldn’t see his ugliness from within. He says a prayer and mimicking his voice, I recite it with him. His words are useless to me, though I can deceive him into believing that he had won.

But he’s not the only one attempting to evict me from my new dwelling. The wind screeches in my ears. The other spirits have arrived. They hover above us like a bunch of ectoplasmic hounds fighting over a bitch in heat. Their lugubrious moaning makes the air quiver. The room trembles with their collective rage and the windows start breaking, showering everyone with flying slivers of rainbow-colored glass. Blood patters into streaks on the walls. Like their fallen Christ, people lie face down on the floor. The so-called holy man assumes it’s all me and I can picture his bowels turning into liquid. He screams his abracadabra, mumbo jumbo louder and louder. They place the cross against her chest and squeal: “In the name of Jesus, depart!”

I hold onto her body for as long as I can. She’s more to me now than a breathing puppet to move around with my spectral strings. She’s my home. If I were to leave, I want to be remembered. And I can tell that’s what she wants too. So I gather myself for our final performance.

The people’s satisfying screams splinter the atmosphere, sounding like applause to my ears, as I use the last of my energy to unzip her flesh, slowly… I linger long enough to hear the men’s unholy shrieks as they realize their baptism in her blood while holding onto her crudely severed limbs.

Suddenly, I’m ectoplasm—buoyant, beautiful, as I float and fade into nothingness.

But I stare into the priest’s eyes and catch a glimpse of the abyss.

There is a hole in his soul…

and it’s waiting to be filled.

Copyright: © 2014 K.Z. Morano
Note: First appeared in Demonic Possession, JWK Fiction, July 2014, Editor’s Choice Award

Purchase link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LGWQH1M