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New Release: Nothing's Sacred Magazine, Volume 4

10/8/2018

Nothing's Sacred Magazine has just released its 4th installment, which includes my psychological thriller, "Sara's Place."

Also included in this issue:

"Messy Business" by David Greske
"My Little Sugar Plum" by Katherine Quevedo
"Long Hair's Inferno" by Alessandro Manzetti
"Jake 447" by S.C. Hayden
"Passage" by Donna J. W. Munro
"Group" by Brian James Lane

Nothing's Sacred is available in digital and print editions.

Where Are We Going, Where Have We been?

6/16/2018

The other night, I did something I’m not proud of. It might not seem like a big deal to most people, but it’s left me haunted and feeling hypocritically guilty. I killed a bug. No big deal, right? But you see, my morals tell me to live and let live—leave the spider in the corner; catch and release the angry wasp; empathize with its desire to live without being assaulted by me. So what happened?

It was somewhere between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m., and I was watching television in bed. I looked up to see the shadowy image overhead of a flying creature about an inch and a half long. My mind went straight to angry wasp.

I turned on the light, only to find I could not identify the insect. My thoughts already in fight-or-flight, I decided the odd-looking thing had to be dangerous. But instead of doing what I would normally do with an identified danger, I irrationally decided this poor thing needed to die. I terrorized it with fell sweeps of the broom, until it flew—beautiful in flight, I must add—to the nearby curtains and tried to hide. I swatted at the curtains to crush anything that might be there—and then I went looking for something, anything I might spray at the creature’s way should it resurface. I settled for Lysol. Lysol! How terrible is that? Could you imagine being poisoned to death with that stuff?

The insect, which I was able to identify the next day as completely harmless, did indeed die. I think about what I put the poor thing through in its final moments, simply because it had made the mistake of getting trapped in my home. But it left me thinking about the things we rationalize when we let fear get the best of us: I let go of a core value simply because I perceived danger and lost sight of all else.

It got me thinking about the terrible things people can justify doing to other people—simply because fear has gotten the better of them. Hatred begins with fear. Always. People fear what they don’t understand. When they feel threatened, they shift into fight-or-flight. That’s when all reason and logic fly out the window. When we turn other groups of humans into the scary thing flying around in the dark room, we don’t think about the potential horrors we might inflict when we go reaching for the Lysol.

We look back at events through history, at atrocities like the Holocaust, and say to ourselves, “How could people let such a thing happen?” And then, right now, we have families being torn apart for weeks or more, terrified children being held in cages like animals—and half the population saying, “We’re doing the right thing.” We have people rallying religious groups into this fear/hate, saying, “This is biblical.” And people are believe them. And then those less disposed to the religious slant saying, “Well, the law behind this has been around for a decade—and we’re just doing the right thing by deciding suddenly to enforce it in this specific way; blame the people opposing us because it’s their law. It’s enough to make your head spin.

Thing is, a lot of terrible things have happened due to people acting in moments of passion, thinking they were doing the right thing. No one, save the rare sociopath, believes they’re the bad guy. Good people can be driven to hateful thoughts, and they can be driven to do bad things in perfectly good conscience. Good people don’t want to think their actions might, in fact, be harmful. That’s where justification comes into play, and fear drives that as well.

The Nazis believed they were performing a service with their genocide; they’d become capable of performing their terrible acts because they’d become blinded to their evils. They had allowed themselves to get swept up in the fury that had slowly taken their countries, and it had transformed their views of an entire race of people and then some. Jews and other target groups became a threat; they were to be feared, and therefore they were to be hated. That fear and hate had to permeate before such horrors could ensue. Empathy first had to be revoked.

The revocation of empathy we’re currently seeing with the Mexican population terrifies me. If you cannot place yourself in those terrified children’s shoes, you’ve succumbed to the fear/hate monster. If you’re a Christian, I must ask you: What would Jesus do with those children? With their families? Would he love them, invite them to his home, and wash their feet—or would he put them in cages? If you can find any scenario justifying the latter, you’ve succumbed to the fear/hate monster. This monster has empowered hate groups, and it works actively to place a wedge between the common people. This weakens everyone.

We’ve fallen into an age where goodwill toward our fellow human has atrophied. We’ve allowed ourselves to get so caught up in our fears, we’ve lost sight of the bigger picture. Most of us are just doing our best to survive, grasping desperately for our tiny share, that all we know is how to be on the defensive. We develop “us v. them” mentalities over perceived differences, grouping people by culture over character. We’ve fallen into an age of fear.

And fear makes people do irrational, hateful, inhuman things.

I know we’re better than the horrors recently seen across our country. We are not a nation of hate—but we need to let go of our fear if we don’t want to become one. We need to retain our empathy, our humanity, treat others as we’d have them treat us. If we don’t, we will go down in history for our country's crimes. People will say, “How did they let those things happen?”

And those of us who could only idly stand by while other people suffered will only be able to shrug and reply, “Fear can lead good people to do bad things.”

What do we have beyond the hope that fear doesn't prevail? Was there any stopping the Nazis from their crimes--any point when those watching from the outside could have identified what fear was manifesting and nipped it in the bud--or are cycles of fear/hate like the Holocaust inevitable? How long does mistreatment and antipathy have to escalate before we can say, "Well... we didn't see that coming"?

Excerpt: Crescendo of Darkness

5/16/2018

Music has the power to soothe the soul, drive people to obsession, and soundtrack evil plots. Is music the instigator of madness, or the key that unhinges the psychosis within? From guitar lessons in a graveyard and a baby allergic to music, to an infectious homicidal demo and melancholy tunes in a haunted lighthouse, Crescendo of Darkness will quench your thirst for horrifying audio fiction.

HorrorAddicts.net is proud to present fourteen tales of murderous music, demonic performers, and cursed audiophiles.

Please enjoy an excerpt below from Crescendo of Darkness.

“Audition” by Naching T. Kassa

This could be a guitarist's ticket to the big time, if he survives auditioning in a ghoul-protected graveyard.

Jim found himself blinded by California sunshine. The dirt road crunched under his tires and trees whooshed by as he sped along. These sounds, along with the hum of the Mustang’s engine, were the soundtrack to his thoughts.

Where had Langham sent him? And to who? He shouldn’t have ended with the blues rift. If he’d gone with a more traditional coda, he might’ve passed the audition. Now, he was out in the sticks on a wild goose chase
.
Ahead of him, an old fashioned wrought-iron gate stood dark and skeletal against the pink sky. Jim slowed. Brass numbers were fixed to the bars and they matched the address he’d been given. He parked, pulled his phone from his pocket, and dialed.

Langham answered on the second ring.

“There must be some mistake,” Jim said. “Nobody lives here.”

“There are people there,” Langham answered.

“Yeah, they’re six-feet under. It’s a cemetery.”

“Good. You’re there.”

“You must be joking.”

“He’s waiting inside. Look for Ezra Morgan’s marker and you will find him.”

“Ezra Morgan? The last student of Ike Zimmerman? The one he taught after Robert Johnson?”

“Yes.”

“Ezra Morgan is dead.”

“So they say. Why don’t you go in and see for yourself?”

“I can’t talk to a dead man. What kind of fool do you think I am?”

“The student kind. This is a lesson, boy. If you want to be in the band, you must finish what you start.”

“All right. I’ll play along, but if I find Sharp in there with a sheet over his head, I’ll beat the hell out of him.”

“Fair enough. By the way, after the lesson comes the initiation. Survive it and you’re in the band.”

“Survive? Wait, what?” A loud beeping sounded for a second before the line went dead.

Jim dialed Langham’s number again, but the call went straight to voicemail. He tried a second time and a third. When the voicemail message sounded again, he tossed the cell phone into the passenger seat and peered out the window.

Squat stone walls surrounded the graveyard and did little to block the view of the interior. The place was a mass of purple needle grass and towering oaks. A few white tombstones glimmered in the last rays of sunlight.

Jim stepped out of the car and approached the unlocked gate. Hinges screeched in protest as he pulled it open. He stepped inside.

The cemetery lay before him. Most of the headstones leaned at odd angles or lay crumbled in the yellow grass.

Jim remembered his cell phone then. It was still in the car. He retraced his steps.

The moment he stepped through the gate, a scream split the still air. He turned to see something rush toward him. It wasn’t human.

The creature moved in a strange hunched gait. Dark shreds of clothing hung off its body. Large lidless eyes and sharp teeth dominated its gruesome face.

Jim stepped back into the graveyard and slammed the gate. As soon as it shut, the creature vanished.

Jim blinked. He pushed the gate open a few inches.

The thing appeared a few yards away. This time, it was armed with a large butcher’s knife.

Jim released the gate and it clanged shut. He backed away from the iron bars, his heart thudding in his chest. Grass tangled about his feet and he fell against a gravestone.

The creature stood on the opposite side of the stone wall, perhaps fifteen feet away. A fiendish grin twisted its face.

*********************************
To read the rest of this story and thirteen
other horror music shorts, check out:

Crescendo of Darkness
Direct link:
ttps://www.amazon.com/Crescendo-Darkness-Jeremiah-Donaldson/dp/1987708156
Edited by Jeremiah Donaldson
Cover by Carmen Masloski
HorrorAddicts.net Press

Let music unlock your fear within.

Happy Anniversary

4/30/2018

Happy anniversary, my love,
wherever you may be.
May your heart run free,
May you find what you seek,
Even if it never again is with me.

Happy anniversary,
the first one that we’ll never see.
Is freedom all you thought it’d be?
Or do you stop and think at night
about the sweet love you’re missing from me?

Happy anniversary.
Still living in that fantasy?
With you the victim, demonizing me?
I know you can’t you see through your own insanity
but why can’t you see what your betrayal did to me?

Happy anniversary
Have a chocolate cupcake and a cup of tea.
Raise it to whomever you’re f***ing instead of me.
Is she your every fantasy? Even better than me?
Is she worth the years you’ve stolen from me?

Happy anniversary
For all the lies I couldn’t see,
and the soul-crushing infidelity.
Playing me merely for my utility.
The fresh scars that you’ve left with me.

Happy anniversary, my love.
Goodbye, forever and ever, from me.
All the things I wished that we could be,
The dreams we shared, or so I believed.
For all these things, and so many more, happy f***ing anniversary.

Finding Peace in the Unrest

4/14/2018

We’re living in turbulent times. Regardless of the country you call home, current political and social discord are probably having some effect on you or people you care about. Social media has become a war zone, so that even many of the more outspoken people (like yours truly) have grown beyond uncomfortable with all the noise and ensuing chaos.

We all have a lot of frustration fueling us right now. We’re being led by politicians who’ve made it crystal clear that their interests are being driven solely by the bottom line, regardless of the human cost, and we’re feeling powerless do to anything to change it. We’re seeing the masses manipulated by mind games, the biggest of their manipulators being placed on pedestals while they feed the people overstuffed propaganda. We’re seeing unrest over issues that should’ve been put to rest decades ago.

Here in the U.S., we’ve become a country divided because we’ve let propaganda—right and left both—spin uncontrolled, and what began as a few whirlwinds has grown into fleets of tornadoes, left unchecked, now tearing across the land. As war threatens to break out on an international level, so too does civil war threaten the United States. This is because we’ve all allowed emotion to infiltrate areas where we should be merely calmly disagreeing. But that’s what spin is designed to do: agitate people. So now, instead of arguing over policy, we’re arguing over issues that are deeply personal and only superficially related to the policies attached to them.

The meme machine got the war started, but we all helped to make it grow. We’ve all fed it, and we’ve watched the divide grow with it. We’ve grown angry, not just at our politicians, but at one another. Everything has become so black and white, the lines drawn deep into the sand. Those of us with any continued passion for the world are left wondering how long it will be until we’re just too tired to care anymore. The daily battles have become exhausting, even when you don’t personally engage, and the memes do nothing but preach to their respective choirs. They don’t change minds; they fortify them. Sharing one does nothing to help your cause, but will most inevitably bring you conflict.

I’ve been having a hard time not sharing recent news articles. I’ve mostly succeeded in leaving alone even what I feel to be the most relevant articles. I want to invite discussion, but I’m even more fearful of opening up a debate that will lead to nothing but added frustration. Let’s face it, no matter who is “right” in all this, every one of us has become so emotionally attached to our issues that motivated reasoning absolutely must be driving the debates on both sides. As right as I believe I am in my stances, my reasoning could be just as ridiculous as I believe the opposing side’s to be. That’s how motivated reasoning works, and it always looks ridiculous from the outside.

Unfortunately, this motivated reasoning has become so strong that neither the extreme right nor the extreme left is going to be able to concede. So how do we overcome this? Can we overcome this? If we’re going to find a way, it will likely need to begin with all Americans all taking a step back. We need to be reading and watching world news, and from a variety of countries—outside of the U.S. propaganda machine. What does the rest of the world think about all of this? If we restrict ourselves to partisan news sources, we’re each only continuing to grope blindly at separate pieces of the elephant in that pitch-dark room.

Even if you’re right and the world is going to descend into chaos if things don’t change they way you see fit, you’re wasting your time and energy screaming about it on social media, and you’re contributing to the divide. If you’re serious about your views, live by your convictions. Vote, and encourage others also to vote. Write your representatives, letting them know where you and the people in your community stand, reminding them who their true constituents are. Work to have legislation introduced to remove the money from politics. Support businesses that back your ideals, and make sure you’re informed when it comes to which corporations, if any, deserve your business.

And if your views do not match with the majority of the world’s, perhaps you should consider the possibility that you’re the one in need of a change in perspective. What does the outside picture see that you’re unable to? It’s okay to be wrong—as long as you do something to fix the mistake. Take a long, hard look at what the rest of the world is saying. Are you even listening?

Life and Death and Everything in Between

12/30/2017

I’ve had a lot to reflect over the past several months. I've suffered a devastating illness, which has caused me to lose an alarming amount of weight. I watched my marriage fall apart, taking my life in an unexpected direction. I lost a good friend to cancer. I’ll be spending New Year’s Eve alone.

I’ve learned that what we see is often not what we get. Life has an endless supply of curve balls, some of them faster and more disorienting than others. My head is still spinning over other recent events in my own life, and I find myself struggling to make sense of it all. The last several months have felt like a series of dizzying events rushing over in waves like dominoes, jarring slices of life that should only have been allowed to exist in the Twilight Zone.

But nearly everyone I know seems to be suffering from some kind of darkness, many just as bizarre and unexpected as mine. Injustice, betrayal, and death seem to have permeated the world. The news has become the journal of an Orwellian dystopia. Although the writer in me sees the seeds for stories everywhere in our current political climate, I’ve found myself largely unable to write about it—it’s all too depressing, too surreal, too disturbing.

Last year, I told 2016 where it could shove itself, confident that 2017 was going to be infinitely better. I’m not going to tempt the Fates with another such prediction. I will say my heart is with everyone else who found 2017 particularly difficult. As far as my life goes, I’ve chosen to view all I’ve endured as an opportunity for personal growth, as hard as it’s been. I’ve forgiven those who’ve wronged me, and I’m doing my best to keep the past in the past. I don’t always succeed. I could be a bitter person right now—I’ve been given ample cause—but I’m doing my best not to let recent misfortunes and heartaches harden my heart.

Instead, I extend it to everyone out there who’s suffered a recent loss, been betrayed, fallen into poverty, endured injustice, had to start over, or tumbled into some other, similar hell. I extend it to everyone who will be spending New Year’s Eve alone this year. Moreover, I extend it to all those who will spend the end of this year feeling alone.

I’ve spent so many years so fervent in my beliefs about social justice, thinking I might make a difference by writing my books or speaking out every once in a while on social media. With so much energy put in one direction, it’s difficult not to burn out completely. I haven’t given up, but I am tired. I want to rekindle that passion, and maybe that should be my resolution: to find the fire that once drove me and discover a way to recapture it.

I’ll be watching SyFy’s Twilight Zone marathon this New Year’s Day; seems fitting. I invite you to join me in spirit, ringing in 2018 with reflection, gratitude, and the satisfaction of some cosmic justice, even if it is just on the TV screen. May you leave 2017 wiser, stronger, and ready to begin anew. May you find happiness, even if it also comes with moments of despair. May you veer back to your path if you’ve strayed. Most importantly, may you find whatever it is you truly seek, and claim it.

A Dystopian World

12/14/2017

After Corporate falls, what becomes of the Corporates, those rich fat-cats who lived like kings on the backs of everyone else?

As we look toward another year, one that will undoubtedly include some changes many of us find unsettling, we must once again ask ourselves: How much power do we, the people, actually have? How is it that, despite our objections, more and more continues to slip away from the people and into Corporate's hands?

The collective "Corporate" might seem still to belong only to the fictitious World-Mart, but I must dare to say it is already alive and well in the real world. Corporate already owns everything.

In Aftermath: Beyond World-Mart, the world takes some scary, but also a few very satisfying, turns. What remains of Corporate is, in my opinion, fitting. So, I have a contest that's befitting our growing World-Mart world.

For a chance at a $20 Amazon gift card, name the author, title, and people who inspired the Corporates in Aftermath.*

*Contest not open to friends and family of the author.

Happy Halloween!

10/31/2017

It's that time of year again, when every horror writer on the face of the planet has either a new release, freebies, or some other way to celebrate the season. Today, we honor numerous traditions, both religious and cultural, while also getting in our fill of contemporary fun.

Today, I celebrate two new releases, both of which I'm proud to be included in.

First is Tales From the Lake, Volume 4, released by Crystal Lake publishing. This book has an incredible lineup with some exceptional stories.

The second is Hydrophobia: A Charity Anthology for Victims of Hurricane Harvey, released by Stitched Smile Publications. As the name suggests, all proceeds from the anthology will go toward helping Hurricane Harvey victims.

So there you have it, my horror-writing offering for the year. I hope one or both of these anthologies will help you set the Halloween mood. But if you'd like a bit more, I have a blog post on fear at the Horror Writer's Association you might want to check out. Happy reading!

New Release: Dusk's Warriors by Emerian Rich

10/8/2017

People often ask me how I got into writing about vampires, especially when I’m a minister’s kid who was brought up with a strong knowledge of religion. To tell you the truth, it was really a natural progression.

When I was in college, I read my first vampire novel, Interview with a Vampire by Anne Rice. In her series, she talks about vampire cults that are always looming in the background ready to pounce or deal out justice. I became so interested in those vampire cults I started wondering what their religious practices might be. Were their beliefs based on Christianity and the bible? Or were they more occult-based? What would their ceremonies be like? What would be their reasoning behind killing the guilty, drinking blood, and making others of their kind?

And since Anne didn’t write it, I felt myself compelled to. Thus Severina was born. She was a poor, Rio de Janerio native whose family was killed by such a vampire cult. They claimed her family’s deaths prepared her for a life serving God under the vampire religion. They were to be innocents who, after a weeklong ritual and turning, would then be vigilantes for God. What better training would there be for creating a vampire religion than being brought up studying theology and cult groups? I won’t quote you statistics of how many of the top cults in history have been started by minister kids, but at least I created mine in books instead of leading hundreds to follow me to death by Kool-Aid.

I became immersed in the ritual of it all. I wrote ceremonies and prayers and doctrines of faith. And a vampire cult was born. Just that pebble of an idea from Rice’s tales led me to create my own world and religion.

My point to all this is…explore ideas you might not think will lead to anything. Let yourself write ramblings with no purpose (you think) or make up lists or organizations. You never know when they may be the spark that starts your first book.

Dusk’s Warriors by Emerian Rich

Heaven has opened up and welcomed the vampires of Night’s Knights into a new reality. As they struggle to find their place in their new world, trouble brews on Earth.

Demon servant, Ridge, is causing havoc by gathering up all the souls on Earth that have been touched by immortality. When he injures one of the Night’s Knights crew, he launches a war between the vampires of Heaven, the Big Bad in Hell, and a mortal street gang of vigilante misfits.

Will Julien, Markham, and Reidar be able to defeat the evil that’s returned, or will they once again need Jespa’s help?

Praise for Dusk’s Warriors:
“All hail, the queen of Night's Knights has returned! Emerian Rich's unique take on vampires delights my black little heart.” ~Dan Shuarette, Lilith's Love

“A world of horror with realistic characters in a fast paced thriller you won't be able to put down.”
~David Watson, The All Night Library

Praise for Night’s Knights:
“Fresh, original, and thoroughly entertaining.” ~Mark Eller, Traitor

“Emerian brought the Vampire Novel back from the dead.” ~C. E. Dorsett, Shine Like Thunder

Available now at Amazon.com in print and eBook

https://www.amazon.com/Dusks-Warriors-Nights-Knights-Vampire/dp/1544628803

Emerian Rich is an artist, horror host, and author of the vampire series, Night’s Knights. She is the hostess of the internationally acclaimed podcast, HorrorAddicts.net. Under the name Emmy Z. Madrigal, she writes the musical romance series, Sweet Dreams and she’s the Editorial Director for the Bay Area magazine, SEARCH. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and son.

You can learn more aobut her books at her Amazon author page, or check out her website at www.emzbox.com.

Chasing a Dream

10/4/2017

He wanted a fantasy, so I gave him one
and then some, his deepest dreams.
But a fantasy was all he ever wanted.
Nothing real.
Nothing lasting.
Just a dream.

She was only a dream,
but he’ll never see that light.
Ever chasing the horizon, chasing
ideas, thinking they’re people.
But people have hearts. Souls.

The steadfast, devoted wife was
a fantasy, too.
If I could make him happy, so was I.
In my head, it was real. But that’s all.
I was.
A joke.

Where did he put all that love I wasted?
I’d like it back now.
A heart-shaped box, maybe…
Or did it merely vanish into the ether,
a slow dissemination of my soul, misplaced.
Misdirected.

Or maybe love isn’t real after all.
Just another dream.
One I chased far too long,
ever chasing the horizon,
ever playing the fool.

Who am I?
Am I someone?
Have I ever been someone?
Or just a pawn, something pretty
to have, to hold, and to screw?

I am alone.
I understand that now.
I always have been alone,
and I always will be.
No matter what man pretends to love me.