“Well, what tongue does the wind talk? What nationality is a storm? What country do rains come from? What color is lightning? Where does thunder go when it dies?”
― Ray Bradbury,
What’s the closest thing to free? $0.99. (Disclaimer: It’s actually $0.01, but just go with it.) For a whopping buck minus a cent, you can snag yourself a Kindle Edition of my latest short story, Confines, Wards, & Dungeons.
It’s a weird piece. There’s alchemy, conspiracy theories, and a retro 50s diner. It’s also a political allegory, but who wants to read beneath the surface?
Valentino Mahoney hasn’t been sleeping. His insomnia has less to do with his demotion from reporter to copy editor or now working the graveyard shift and more to do with the haunting dreams. Alongside his loyal colleague Darnell and the eccentric alchemist Lyryc, while summoned demons close in on him, Valentino begins to unravel a web of the city’s most powerful families and their ties to a satanic cult.
I did say something about “free,” though, didn’t I?
Well, on said Thursday, swing by my Amazon Author Page to snag a copies of my other work, on me. You’ve got a lot to choose from.
On a whim, three indolent friends decide to tear out across the country and visit the attractions they’ve read about in an old tour guide. When they pick up a strange hitchhiker outside of Texas, however, their joyride takes a dark turn.
Nearly three decades after the fact, Warren reflects on the eventful day he had planned to lose his virginity, recalling it in vivid detail: the Presidential motorcade, the tropical storm, the deluge, and–most importantly–The Indomitable Biloxi Bertha, Gator ‘Rassler.
After leaving his estranged wife 1400 miles away to accept a position as an instructor in an MFA program, things are looking up for Irv. He loves his new city, campus, students. He’s even smitten with Dr. Robin Vogelsang, a charming, awkwardly sexy ornithologist. All he has to worry about is keeping their liaison a secret from her husband.
Fifteen years ago, the author and two of his friends engaged in an evening of amateur ghost hunting. Equipped with a homemade Ouija board and using an upturned wine glass as a planchette, they communed with two entities. At first, it was a pleasant–albeit poorly spelled–conversation. Course, it’s always fun until the malevolent spirit shows up …
If that’s not enough to whet your appetite for my prose, there’s always one other option, also available for the next best thing to free. (Disclaimer: Again, the author refers to the metaphorical $0.99, not the actual $0.01.)
“Everyone from my friends to my therapist tells me Callie’s suicide wasn’t my fault. They don’t know about the contents of her note or my raging alcoholism or the numerous affairs. They don’t know that every time I feel a moment of peace or a twinge of happiness, her ghost appears to remind me where the blame lies.”
In other words, Thursday is going to be a great day, provided you swing by Amazon and load your Kindle with what critics have called “the most poignant, riveting short stories of the new millennium.”
(Disclaimer: No critic in his/her right mind would ever say such a thing.)