my titles, from left to right & top to bottom:
“Mist and Midnight”, “Telltale Signs”, “A Living Specimen”, “Brain Games and “Bio-Zombie”, “Thy Will be Done”, and “Tabitha’s Solution”
“Mist and Midnight” in Midnight Thirsts (Melange Books, 2011)
“Telltale Signs” in Spellbound 2011 (Melange Books, 2011)
“A Living Specimen” in Midnight Thirsts II (Melange Books, 2012)
“Brain Games” and “Bio-Zombie”, in A Quick Bite of Flesh (Hazardous Press, 2012)
“Thy Will Be Done” in Dark Eclipse Digest #16 (Dark Moon Books, 2012)
Wind and Shadow: Book One of the Talbot Trilogy, April 2013
Wife, mother, teacher, writer: I am a mother of two children and have been married for over fifteen years. A full-time teacher of dramatic arts, history, and English in Northeastern Ontario, Canada, I enjoy reading a wide variety of classic and contemporary literature, including romances, ghost stories, horror fiction, and fairy tales. I began writing short stories and plays in my childhood to entertain, frighten, and gross out my friends. Today, I relish creating imaginary worlds with vampires, shapeshifters, ghosts, and witches. I love listening to an eclectic mix of music, taking my dog on long walks, mowing my lawn, and curling up with a hot cup of tea, a good book, and a tasty doughnut during a thunderstorm or a blizzard. In addition to writing, my creative past times include needlework (quilting, cross-stitching, and embroidery), making and collecting miniature furniture, traveling, and watching movies. I’m a history buff, a Trekkie, and a practicing Wiccan.
Zombie fans, you have to read this collection of fantastic zombie stories, and not just because I have two stories in it (“Brain Games” and “Bio-Zombie”). It’s truly terrific, delightfully diverse and deliciously gory.
Right now, it’s a Kindle read, but in October, you can get a paperback copy to keep on your shelf. I feel a giveaway coming on…
Enjoy, before the Zombpocolypse descends…
Here’s a quick excerpt from “Brain Games” to whet your appetite:
The small, brown-paper package, wrapped in string, is no bigger than my hand. The Florida postmark makes my heart beat faster.
I bolt up the stairs to my room.
Here, at last, is the perfect solution to my problem. Damien will be no match for a little voodoo magic!
“Rose may have you now,” I mutter, using nail clippers to cut the strings, “but that’s about to change.”
I glance lovingly at his picture, framed and hung in place of honour above my pillow.
I open the crackling paper to find a black box and a business card.
“Mama Jetti’s Traditional Haitian Magics” I read aloud. It lists her contact info, and then there’s a bunch of small print, probably a disclaimer or something similarly boring written in complicated legalese.
I set the business card on my bedside table, and return my attention to the box.
“Time for the big reveal.” I take a deep breath, and carefully remove the lid.
Inside, nestled in a bundle of shredded newspaper, is a single black vial. I can’t see the contents, but when I pick it up and shake it, I can hear powder shifting. Spotting a folded piece of paper tucked into the lid, I pull it out and read the instructions.
How about another helping? Here’s an excerpt from “Bio-Zombie”:
Leanne approached the corpse on the table with some trepidation.
She couldn’t get used to it. Somewhere after seventy-five she had lost count.
The last one hadn’t been completely neutralized, either. She paused, one gloved hand about to unzip the body bag, and steeled herself. The other hand reached for the large red panic button.
“You won’t get the jump on me, this time,” she warned the thing. Her voice echoed against the firm plastic concave mask covering her face. “Begin recording, Nigel.”
She knew that her assistant was already scribing her every move. Suppressing an internal sigh, mourning the loss of computer technology, she revealed the remains of the zombie to the stark fluorescent light of the autopsy room.
“August 4, 2119. Subject is a male, approximately six foot four. Immediate cause of death appears to be extreme brain trauma.” Leanne probed the exposed tissue delicately, removing a sample and inserting the piece of grey, claggy flesh in a specimen tube. “The bio-suit tag indicates that this was Sergeant Ron Turner. Serial number T96987822. Nigel, where was Sergeant Turner deployed?”
“The Algonquin Ridge.” Nigel’s voice was muffled, like her own must be. Sealed against the bacteria or virus or whatever malevolent infectious thing was turning the men against each other.
“Damn,” she whispered. “That’s the last line of defence.”