Wednesday, October 26, 2016


   According to Merriam Webster, the word 'zombie' was first used in 1871, being a Haitian Creole word. The Oxford English Dictionary says the word's first appearance in English was in 1819. The word is believed to come from the African countries of West Africa. Africans slaves brought their various religious traditions to Haiti where they were fused with Catholicism, creating the hybrid religion, Voodoo (or Vaudou).
   It is believed that the word 'zombie' or 'zonbi' comes from the African words 'zumbi' and/or 'nzambi.' Zumbi means 'fetish' and nzambi is Kikongo for 'god.' Nzambi was apparently a very important god because when European missionaries introduced Christian ideas to the African people they chose the word to represent God. That's what wikipedia says, anyway...although their source sounds very reliable: Thornton, John K. "The Development of an African Catholic Church in the Kingdom of Kongo, 1491-1750," Journal of African History 25 (1984). However, according to 'nzambi' is Kongo for 'spirit of a dead person.'
   In Haiti and Martinique the word 'zombie' was a term for 'spirit' or 'ghost.' When, exactly, this word began to mean a soulless body raised and controlled by a bokor (witch doctor or priest of voodoo), I was unable to ascertain.

   The Haitians believed that there were two parts of a human soul, the 'gro bonanj' (big guardian angel) was the consiousness and personality. The 'ti bonanj' (little guardian angel) was the conscience and will. The Bokor made a special poison that induced a death-like state and the victim was buried alive. The Bokor then dug up the body and stole the ti bonanj. So the zombie wasn't technically dead, but had half of their soul stolen, the part that gave them a conscience and free will.(
   I read in a book on superstition once (sadly, I can remember neither the title nor the author of the work) that this was an actual practice. The witch doctor drugged people, they were assumed dead and buried alive. Then the witch doctor dug them up and sold them into slavery as undead zombies. After cutting out their tongues, of course, so they couldn't set the record straight.
   Also, the Bokors could apparently separate either or possibly both of a persons souls from their bodies, usually in bottles and use them for his own magical purposes or sell them. These were called 'zombie astrals.'
   Wikipedia says that Haitians believed that Baron Samedi, their voodoo god would raise them from their graves to an afterlife in a heavenly version of Africa. But those who had displeased Baron Samedi (Samedi is French for Saturday) would become zombies after death, eternal slaves.
   Supposedly, the creation of zombies was even illegal in Haiti, written into the law in 1864.
an ink drawing of ambulating cadavers by me


Saturday, October 22, 2016

A Regency Tailor's Tale

   Okay, so I cannot lay claim to the title ‘tailor’ and you will soon see why.
   This is the story of how I made my Regency outfit for my zombie costume for my book release party. This is not a how-to. More of a how-not-to.
   I was driven to sewing by desperation.
   Ever since I was little, I liked capes and cloaks and things.
   I wanted costumes, but my Mom wasn’t much of a seamstress, not to say she couldn’t, just wouldn’t. My next stop was the thrift stores around Halloween time. Although we have lovely thrift stores in our area, their costume selections always left much to be desired (and I think they’ve gotten worse since I stopped looking). I had to start making them myself.
   I still used the thrift stores for my fabric purchasing. I didn’t use patterns and I sewed by hand. This was arduous.
   Eventually, I got a hold of a sewing machine (my Grandma brought hers up for my sister. My sister had no interest in sewing and so I took the thing over). My first attempts were shaky. I still didn’t use patterns. Totally cooked it up from my head and while chopping up fabric. When I attempted my first pair of trousers, I finally cut up an old pair of pants and used that for a pattern.
   Then I began making coats. I took an old suit coat and chopped it up for a pattern. The first was a simple copy. 
The first pair of trousers, originally for a Sweeney Todd costume, paired with the first coat for a Mad Hatter. My brother made the hat.

   The second diverged greatly, becoming somewhat reminiscent of  a Regency era coat for last year’s Halloween, inspired by Tanz der Vampire, the German musical with the incredible costumes. Needless to say, I totally winged it with the collar and it’s barely satisfactory. Also, the thrift store is no longer my fabric store. I found gorgeous fabric at a local shop called the Alley Fabric Nook. The drawback to this, is the astronomical prices of fabric. Slide your card and whack bang you spent fifty dollars on cloth!
Tanz Der Vampire costume. I made the waistcoat, coat, cape, and trousers. And ascot, if you can really say that a half sewed together strip of silk is an  ascot.

   Now I’m working on coat number three.
   I started with the waistcoat. This outfit was inspired by Lord Chornby’s unholy getup in Ambulatory Cadavers, and was going to include a paisley waistcoat. I went fabric shopping, this time on amazon, and found some birds I couldn’t pass up. So I made the waistcoat first. And the shirt. This time I decided to actually sew the shirt, too. The shirt turned out rather wild and untamed, but it will be mostly hidden, so I think it will do.
This photo was before I added the ruffles on the shirt cuffs

   I still don’t know how one is supposed to do the tall collars on this style of waistcoat, so this one has issues. I suppose it needs to be sewn in between the outer layer and the lining or something crazy like that, I just sew it straight on and frown when it doesn’t lay how I want. I think this one turned out a little crooked as well, and it’s too tall, so unless the coat collar can keep it in check I’ll have to shorten it or fold it and call it good.
   I almost got a little too ambitious with the coat. I pulled out my copy of The Mode in Costume by R. Turner Wilcox and flipped to the section ‘The French Restoration’ encompassing Louis XVIII, 1815-1824 and Charles X, 1824-1830. I examined the claw and hammer coat tails on those glorious frock coats and couldn’t refrain. 
Frock coat from 'The Mode in Costume'

   Instead of copying the two back panels of my cut up suit coat pattern, I made the back of the coat in four pieces. I didn’t quite succeed in the layering of the claw and hammer, but I got a deluxe-looking back.
Advanced sewing, no? For me, yes. Took some dexterous manipulation.

   It took me three tries to get the collar right. Those Regency era coat collars are so weird looking (in a good way!). How do you make those? I still don’t know. This is just as close as I got.

The pictures make it look better than reality!

Saturday, October 15, 2016

The #OctoberFrights Giveaways!

Better make sure you've entered these ;)

a Rafflecopter giveaway
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Also, there is a giveaway here, where all you have to do to enter is comment!

The Last Day

   So...we arrive at the end. Every end is a new beginning, no?
   I want to thank everyone who stopped by my posts, read them, commented, entered giveaways, shared, etc! Merci beaucoup.
   I've really enjoyed this blog hop but the horrifying, dribbling, and chilling terror of October is only half over! On Halloween my horror-comedy will be unleashed and I will be signing books and handing out candy in my local bookshop. I will be sure to blog about that, and hopefully I'll get some more sneak peeks and bonus content posts in before then! So stay tuned. In the meantime, you can pre-order the ebook of Ambulatory Cadavers.

    And be sure to check out the blog list at the bottom of this post and follow, follow, follow! There are some great blogs and scary-good authors.

   Today I just have a little film review and giveaway. I love old horror movies (70s or 60s and on back to the genesis of film). I got started on them because of Christopher Lee and his portrayal of Dracula, and then I got hooked on Hammer and so on...then I found Metropolis and fell in love with silent films.

   WHITE ZOMBIE (1932)
   Directed by: Victor Halperin
   Starring: Bela Lugosi, Madge Bellamy, Joseph Cawthorne
   This film is the original zombie movie, the introduction of the Haitian tradition to America. Now, the first zombie movie of the modern style, with the whole apocalypse thing is Romero's Night of the Living Dead. White Zombie is much more stylish. It was filmed over the course of eleven days on a tiny budget on leftover sets from Dracula and Frankenstein. I think Bela's performance as Murder Legendre is almost better than his Dracula.
   The zombies are slow and silent, undead slaves. I think they're great.
   The story begins with a young couple arriving in Haiti to get married at the home of their benefactor, M. Beaumont. The first scene is a burial in the middle of the road, 'where people pass all the time,' to discourage grave robbers.
   M. Beaumont wants Madeline for himself and hires Murder Legendre to use his powers to steal her. Murder gives him a mysterious powder. You can guess where it will go from there.
   The plot is fairly simple, but gorgeous photographed, with a few wild but clumsy fade effects and great acting by Bela and the adorable Madge Bellamy. The sets are gorgeous, with a spectacular castle that is obviously a painting (I LOVE painted backdrops), but somehow incorporates moving surf crashing on the shore. The music is a little average, except in two spots, the chanting at the beginning and a weird hummed number that gives an amazing mood to the scene where the drugged Madeline goes to the gothic balcony and heatstroke-suffering Neil senses er form the camp on the beach.
   All in all it captured my imagination and I give it 5 of 5 stars!

   Now the GIVEAWAY! Just comment with your favorite horror movie or old movie recommendation and you'll be entered to win a blu-ray copy of White Zombie!

Friday, October 14, 2016

A Lovecraftian Tale, The Tablet of Teh Ri'teth

For the penultimate day of October Frights, I have a short story (1895 words). I penned it in a matter of hours without any idea where it was going, other than death. I did a little revising: changing the end to a Hammer Horror style twist and adjusting the beginning accordingly. It's inspired by H.P. Lovecraft's style, including the made up ancient civilization and the first person narrator telling the tale directly to the reader. So here it is.


I didn’t kill him. You know I could never have done such a thing. Yes, I was at his house the day he vanished, and I can remember it all clearly.
It was on a day much like today: there was a chill in the air, tainted with the pleasing aroma of wood smoke and the sparkle of frost. All of the aspen trees along Byre Street were saturated with yellow. Their yellow stained the street with great drifts and spatters of death. I hate yellow.
I didn’t then. It put me in a cheery mood as I walked between the looming aspens past the rows of old brick townhouses. Yellow everywhere. Bright as the sunshine. My breath spewed out before me in a crystalline cloud, glowing in the late afternoon.
At the end of Byre Street is where Wentham’s house used to be. Wentham and I had struck up a friendship earlier that month at the Bryndle Club in Bamberg. We were both intrigued with the occult, you see. Yes, I was. Terribly intrigued. Those funny runes and tablets had just been discovered in the Paerth Hills. Do you remember the fuss the papers made, if briefly? They were dismissed as fraud, an archeological prank. The things have since disappeared. Wentham was convinced they were artifacts of a forgotten religion and had tantalized me with his theories.
Naturally, I accepted his invitation to come and see the tablet he had acquired for his private collection of historical and occult objects.
Wentham’s house was unassuming, charming, even. It was slightly larger than the rest of the Byre Street domiciles and had a circular tower. It was all brick, with a yellow door.
Wentham himself answered when I rang, wearing a burgundy dressing gown.
“Lowell!” he said jovially. “Do come in. Bloody cold out there.” I don’t know if you ever met Wentham, but he was the kind of man who filled a room with his presence. His baritone carried well and he often used it to dominate conversation. Yet he was always considerate, making sure to include everyone and let them have a turn, however brief. His dark green eyes sparkled from the shadows of his heavy black brow with a burning intelligence and passion.
I followed him through a regal but dusty hall to a messy sitting room where he poured me a hot cider. I sipped it as I glanced around at the clutter: dirty dishes piled up between the disarranged sofa pillows and books.
“Sorry about the mess,” Wentham said, “the maid vanished last month and I haven’t found a replacement.” He chuckled. I thought there was something like nervousness beneath it, but he had moved on before I could think about it. “But you came to see the tablet of Teh Ri’teth, not chat.”
I shivered involuntarily. “Tablet of what?” I asked.
“Teh Ri’teth,” Wentham said, licking his lips. I shivered again, despite the warmth and the hot cider in my hand.
“How do you—where—” I began.
“It says right on it,” Wentham said. “I’ll show you.” He strode across the sitting room towards a mahogany door.
“But no one’s been able to match the runes to any known alphabet!” I protested, following more slowly to avoid spilling my cider.
“I cracked it,” Wentham said, pulling out a key and unlocking the door.
“How?” I asked.
Wentham pushed open the door and disappeared inside. I followed, any further questions dying on my lips. Wentham had a veritable museum. Glass cases lined the room, filled with glittering, numinous items. They were a bit dusty and draped in cobwebs, but that only intensified their mystery. The last rays of the setting sun illumed the gossamer threads and twinkled on the aerial dust motes. A strange, indescribable odor assailed my nostrils, something ancient and dark.
Wentham was already at the far end of the room, before a broken case. He kicked a white rag that lay before it into the corner and turned to look at me, chest puffing proudly as I gazed about in awe.
The case closest to me held a mummified head, draped in turquoise beads. The next one displayed an ancient bronze bowl, marked with druidic symbols. Further down I could see a set of Egyptian instruments that I knew were used in the Opening of the Mouth.
“This is fabulous,” I whispered, excited despite the irrational sense of dread that was beginning to lurk around the shadowy edges of the room.
“Come see it,” Wentham said, a little impatiently. I was suddenly reluctant to approach him, but my curiosity won me over and I joined him in front of the broken case. The object inside it was covered with a black velvet cloth. The strange odor was stronger now. I eyed the broken glass with unease.
“What happened?”
“Clumsiness,” Wentham said, reaching out slowly for the black velvet. I saw that his hand, lit up by the last sunbeam, was shaking. A whispery rasp slithered through my ears and I looked around the shadowy corners.
“What’s that? Do you have a gas leak?” I asked.
“Look!” Wentham snapped, whipping off the black velvet. I gasped.
I had seen pictures of the tablets, of course, but it was entirely different to see it in person. An aesthete would call it ugly. All yellowy, slimy-looking stone, marred with hideous scratch-like runes of a shivery nature. In person it seemed to ooze before my very eyes, the runes shimmering and coiling. And that strange odor. It filled my nostrils and spun my head in sickening circuits. I blinked and tried to get a fix on the horrible tablet. Surely my eyes were playing tricks on me? Perhaps it was too warm in this arcane museum.
When I later spoke to a museum curator who had briefly had one of the tablets in his care, he described the same sensations in its presence.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Wentham breathed reverently. I clutched my cider mug tighter as a shiver passed through me and the whispery rasp hissed through the room. “Teh Ri’teth.” I jumped, looking about the room in terror before I realized that it was only Wentham who had spoken the legerdemain words. Cider dripped down my mug and through my fingers. It was growing dark in the room as twilight fell softly outside.
“He ruled the skies in old days when blood ran free in the hills of Paerth,” Wentham whispered softly. The rasping and odor mounted, humming in an ominous undercurrent. “Each night he poured his colour into the earth and each day he slept in glory. Each month a sacrifice was made to his lordship. A life was given to appease.”
“How do you know this?” I asked, shuddering. My cider rippled.
“It reads thus,” he said, pointing at the tablet’s squirming runes. “It tells of his glory, his victories, his power.”
“But how can you read it?” I asked.
The rasping in my ears coughed a little, like a chuckle. The writhing runes on the breathing tablet seemed to jump.
“I heard it,” Wentham said, turning to look at me.
“Heard it?” I asked, tearing my eyes away from the hideous stone. The green eyes of Wentham were a relief, anchoring me again in reality. The whispers and odors of the strange room seemed to fade.
“I didn’t leave this room for days,” Wentham said. “I was intent on understanding the alphabet. I fell asleep at last and in my dreams…I heard him.”
I frowned, dizzying again as the odor returned to assault my nose and sicken my stomach.
“He requires a sacrifice each month,” Wentham said, licking his lips nervously. “It’s been a month.” His eyes flickered to the corner where he’d kicked the white rag. I turned my head to peer into the darkness and had just made out the rumpled form of a maid’s mobcap when Wentham grabbed my wrist.
I tried to jerk away, but his grip was iron. The cider in my other hand splashed down my arm and I yelped, dropping the mug. Warm apple singed the air. The mug crashed to the floor, shattering among the shadows. Wentham pulled me towards the case. He’d been expecting resistance, but I was too startled from the spilled cider. Wentham stumbled back and threw out a hand to steady himself.
His palm landed on a shard of glass on the broken case’s pedestal. I nearly slammed into him, but his inhuman scream seemed to repel me and I staggered away, staring as he held up his bleeding hand. A crimson drop fell on the repulsive tablet. It soaked into the runes and vanished.
Wentham turned and looked at me, his eyes wide and pale. His once dark green eyes, now pale.
A scream stuck in my throat.
“This is how it began,” Wentham said softly, childish fear in his voice. “Margaret, the maid. She was cleaning in here. Clumsy. Her blood. Poor Margaret. Then it started to talk to me.” Yellow tears were dripping from his pale eyes.
I took a step back as Wentham trembled and the rasping increased in volume, throbbing through the room like a viscous chant. The odor burned in my head and the shadows seemed to leap about like dervishes. The tablet grew brighter and brighter, chasing the shadows away.
“At night he poured his colour into the earth,” Wentham rasped in an alien voice, coarse and horrifying. His eyes were yellow and he was shaking violently, his hand dripping blood down his burgundy dressing gown.
The violent rasping pulsed into my ears, growing to a roar, and this time, I could hear the words. “Teh Ri’teth!” the stone shuddered in the broken case, yellow and laughing. Wentham screamed, yellow and bleeding.
I fled. The odor singed my nose and the rasping seared my ears and the yellow lapped at my heels. I ran out onto the street but I couldn’t escape the yellow. His colour was in the earth. I ran.
I ran until I could run no more. I collapsed on the safe stones of a bridge. I awoke there in the morning, with a constable looking down at me. I took him at once to Byre Street, although he was skeptical as I didn’t tell him what he would find. I waited outside, refusing to enter when he urged me to lead the way.
I shivered in the yellow as he vanished into the house, wondering if I’d sent him to his doom.
He returned, proclaiming the house empty. I asked him about the broken case. It was empty, a burgundy dressing gown lying on the floor before it.
They looked everywhere for Wentham. Nothing could be found, but there was blood on his dressing gown and on the broken glass. They investigated me, as you know, and eventually concluded that I had murdered the poor fellow. Fortunately, I was able to appeal my case and avoid the gallows.
I’m ever so grateful for your visits, you know. Please don’t say that I’m crazy. That’s what they all say, that’s why I’m here instead of dead. But I know what I saw.
If you go to the place where Wentham’s house used to be—they tore it down, you know—you’ll smell that ancient dark odor. You’ll see the barren earth, yellow with his colour.

If you liked the story, but prefer lighter fare, you might look into preordering
Ambulatory Cadavers: A Regency Zombie Novel on Amazon. You can also find my steampunk mythology books through my website, where you can also download a free song that goes along with book two of the Weather Casters Saga.

And/or explore the rest of the hop below!

Thursday, October 13, 2016

The Infested Palace (Make Your Own Adventure Game)!

  Day Four of October Frights!
  I consider this a fairly ambitious project. Though it actually wasn't as hard as I'd imagined. It jusy took a LONG time to link everything together. I was inspired by a story by Garth Nix: Down to the Scum Quarter from his collection Across the Wall. It was a parody of rpg create your own adventures. I wanted to make an interactive post, and this was all I could come up with. I created all of the accompanying drawings in 1 1/2 days, so forgive their sloppiness.
I eliminated any need for dice, but you'll have to remember what two weapons you choose. Have fun and message/comment if you hit a glitch. Also, there's a giveaway at the end ;)
Are you ready to try and escape the 'Infested Palace' alive, and with your brains intact?
Begin the adventure!

Or preorder the book that this game is loosely based around, Ambulatory Cadavers

And check out the other blogs on this hop

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Ambulatory Cadavers Art and Giveaway!

   The October Frights Blog Hop continues!
   Today we have art and a giveaway!
   I had a post on here about the drive to write and how it's like being a host for some alien intelligence that compels you to write (here it is, if you want to check it out). Writing isn't the only thing I'm a host for. I have an alien compulsion to draw, too. Often it seems to be another facet of the writing compulsion: I have to draw what I write. I like to be able to see my characters and how they dress, since I usually write stories set in another time period, and with Ambulatory Cadavers I had to see them especially clearly, because they would appear on my book cover.
   I've always loved the Regency period. I studied fashion plates and illustrations of the clothing of that period before designing the cover. It had to be authentic.
   Test was of course the most important character to design, being the zombie representative of the book. I think I was sketching ideas in April 2015 when I was writing the first draft. I wanted something decayed but cartoonish, like Plants vs. Zombies. But also somewhat classy and dignified. I think I found the right balance.
Katie M John is the wizard who framed my painting. Wonderful isn't it? And drippy. She is wearing a matching velvet bonnet and spencer: the short jacket popular during the Regency era.

Oil portrait of Test

   The compulsion never ends: I started out testing my new ink dip pens and before I knew it, I had the whole cast of Ambulatory Cadavers. These were really fun to paint: fast and furious.

Asa Crimpton--Artist and Medium. As a professional artist, it is perfectly acceptable for him to view naked women.

Charles von Hopenheim--Not much up in the skull, but lots in the heart, although most of it is futilely directed at his cousin, Lyra.

Creamey--A strange young man of questionable occupation. Is his nose broken or does it have naturally graceful curvature?

Lyra von Hopenheim--Avid scientist and social rebel. Sometimes a coup d'etat is the only answer.

Test--He's really very handsome a way. But he will eat your hydrangeas. They make a lovely garnish for brains.
Alice Crawft--Lyra's cousin. Doomed to an odious marriage. She enjoys edifying poetry, painting, and the pianoforte.
   If you like these ink dip pen and watercolor portraits, you're in luck, because I'm giving away a set of 5x7 prints! That's six altogether: Alice, Test, Lyra, Creamey, Charles, and Asa. Also, I'm giving away a print of the painting that was used in the book's cover.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Also, here is a preorder link for Ambulatory Cadavers

An InLinkz Link-up

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

A New World of Horror...and Smelling Salts

   This is sort of a re-post of stuff I had on my Cover Reveal party for Ambulatory Cadavers. It introduces the world of Monezuela were the book takes place.

   Ambulatory Cadavers is my new horror comedy novella, coming October 31!
   Two cousins. One on the verge of a great discovery—and excessive power, wealth, and infamy—the other on the verge of an odious marriage.
Lyra will stop at nothing to achieve her father’s dream of dissolving Parliament into so much anatomical sludge, searching out the farthest reaches of science and the arcane arts. Until her own dreams begin to awaken, jolted by the electric sparkle of an artist’s eyes.
Alice’s worst nightmares begin to awaken as great expectations weigh upon her and her answer to a very important question is awaited. Lacking a strong constitution, Alice can only run from her problems—until she runs into a strange young man of questionable occupation and discovers her cousin’s terrible plans.
The dead are about to rise, the Lords are about to fall, and things are about to get creamy. And high society will never be the same again.

   Bamberg…the ripest nest of vipers in all Monezuela. In all the world, in fact. I created Bamberg as the setting of my own barber tragedy after watching Tim Burton’s Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. It became the home of many wild tales of darkness and crime. And ridiculously foolish and fashion-prone individuals. I knew that someday I would write about this place, this notorious city and the country of which it is capital: a land without a continent, an un-sunk Atlantis. I did not know that this day would come so soon.
   Bamberg was just waiting to have a story slapped down in its winding streets and catacombs and slums and elaborate parks. So where else could I put the walking dead when they came ambulating across my laptop screen?
   I actually already have an unpublished story lurking around somewhere that was meant to be set in Bamberg, but I don’t think I use the name. At any rate, I think Ambulatory Cadavers is a much better introduction into this comical hive of wickedness. It will ease us gently into this world, a world that really was still somewhat undefined and foggy. We will spend quite a bit of time out in the countryside near the city before diving into the streets and the bloodshed that will ensue.

   Are you ready to follow me into Monezuela and Bamberg? Keep a close eye on your pocket book, your china, your unmentionables and your relatives.

   Review of Ambulatory Cadavers by Mr. Harold B. Farthingale for the Bamberg Daily Discharge

   This is a highly disgusting work of fiction. Hysterical and lewd, it depicts obscene violence in a cavalier manner and plays with words as if they were of no consequence. The characters display little or no remorse for their hideous actions and fall in love with unrealistic candidates. This is sure to give impressionable young people a distorted outlook on life and morals and fill their heads with complete nonsense. 
   Furthermore, blue kissing is metaphorically described in vivid detail and decapitation is portrayed with gruesome and callous abandon. This type of sensational writing is neither skillful nor of remote value. It is frivolous and wicked and should not be purchased, borrowed or hidden beneath stockings in bureau drawers

Monday, October 10, 2016

Welcome to #OctoberFrights!

Hello, hello, hello

Welcome to #OctoberFrights 2016! This is just a little introductory post, I didn’t have a lot of time to prepare, but I have some cool things coming later this week, so stay tuned. Also, check out the awesome blogs at the bottom of this post, many of them have cool stuff up already.
A little about me:
I had my first novel published when I was nineteen, in 2014. So far there are two books in my steampunk mythology series, the Weather Casters’ Saga. Both are on sale this month for 99 cents on amazon. A Hole in the Ice, Book 1 and A Hole in the Sea, Book 2. The children’s magazine, Boy’s Quest, will be publishing a non-fiction article by me this December.
But most importantly, my horror-comedy-zombie-romance is coming out this Halloween! Ambulatory Cadavers is the story of two cousins, a plot to destroy parliament, an artist and medium, and … the walking dead. Tomorrow you can find out more about the setting, and the next day, I’ll show you some of the character art (with a giveaway!). In the meantime, if you wish, you can read an excerpt here.
I wanted to write some flash fiction, but I ran out of time. I might be able to squeeze in a film review to go with the Blu-ray I'll be giving away.

And, of course check out the blogs below!