Sacrilege

I can’t help but post this. I’ll probably burn for it… and for a long time, too, considering how much I enjoy looking at...

Writing Challenge

Time for a new challenge… it’s been awhile. Parameters: Write a short response to the prompt. Read and respond to other responses. Vote for your favorites by clicking the thumbs up. (Note, it will only let you vote once per user or per IP address) After enough responses and votes come in, a winner will be chosen. Prizes: At this time, the winning entry will receive a custom illustration for their story, and a featured post on my website. (For you to bedazzle everyone with!) Prompt: . It is said that a ghost roams this shanty farm. Who (Or What) is it? How long has it been there? Why does it lurk here? What does it see? Tell us its...

Moonlight Flirtations

-By Adam Wilby . . LOCATION – The Starlight speed dating agency; PAUL has just sat down across the table from MARTHA. MARTHA:        Evening. PAUL:               Evening, my name’s Paul, what’s yours? MARTHA:        Pleased to meet you Paul. PAUL:               So what makes a girl like you want to speed date? MARTHA:        Honestly? A desire for companionship I suppose, how about you? PAUL:               True love, what else? MARTHA smiles. MARTHA:        Are you always this optimistic? PAUL:               Best way to be I think. MARTHA:        Yet you are single, not the way you like things I assume? PAUL:               I split up with the girlfriend two months ago. MARTHA:        I’m sorry to hear that. PAUL:               Don’t be, it was a case of opposites attract, that is until we both woke up one morning and realised we had nothing in common. MARTHA:        I assume then that living on your own was not to your liking? PAUL:               Something like that. <PAUSE> How about you, any men in your life? MARTHA:        Not recently, I’ve been off seeing the world for the last couple of years; romance hasn’t been terribly high on the agenda. PAUL:               Good for you, who were you travelling with? MARTHA:        I was by myself. PAUL:               Really? Brave girl. MARTHA:        I’ve always liked my independence. PAUL:               Where was the last place you visited? MARTHA:        Thailand, I was out there for a month last February.  I spent a few days in Bangkok before making my way over to Phuket. One of the best times to go if you haven’t already, weather is warm without being uncomfortable and you get to experience the Chinese New Year. PAUL:               You make it sound very attractive. Do you by any chance work in the tourism industry? MARTHA:        (Laughs) Actually I’m a taxi driver, ever need a lift home on the graveyard shift and I’m the girl to call. PAUL:               A...

Zombie Dreams (with a Werewolf Cameo)

. Zombies are ruining my sleep…. . For the past few weeks, I can’t seem to escape a night without  having multiple dreams populated with horrific zombies in pursuit of my flesh. Last night, the dreams were extra memorable: I found myself in my childhood house. I stood outside at the very edge of the driveway and saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see three zombies by the swing set, taking note of my presence and coming for me. These zombies had some interesting features (zombie 3.0 Beta version, I think). They sported the usual rotten bodies… half face/half skull, shreds of flesh dangling with shreds of muddied clothing. They generally lumbered along, but they had ‘burst of speed.’ . Burst of speed! . Can you imagine a zombie creeping up on you from behind with burst of speed? It happened to me in the stairwell. (God knows why I decided to escape the zombie by going upstairs into a confined room. Maybe I was attempting to get up on the roof and throw the zombie off… I’m not necessarily the most intelligent person in my dreams, evidently.) I ascended the stairs, and a zombie came upon me with burst of speed. I had to kick it off. Thank god it didn’t bite me. Now get this, I grab a PENCIL to protect myself (thinking I could puncture its skull, har har). At this point the zombie starts singing. SINGING? Yes. Not the typical nasty moan you might expect. No, this was a siren’s call. It sounded so alluringly beautiful… haunting and pleasant… I had to turn around. I gaze upon this putrified thing at the bottom of the steps with brimming eyes. It sang at me again (Sang at me, ha!). I felt sorry for it. The sound made me long to...

The Mentor

The Mentor -By Adam Wilby Below us the group of people left the building right on time and began to walk up the street, their usual route would eventually bring them directly past us. From beside me I heard the voice of my mentor, “Do as I do, act when I act”. Always the same words for as long as I could remember. On the day we had first met he’d introduced himself as Patroclus, addressing me only as Diomedes from that point on. Of all the kills I’d made with Patroclus at my side I remembered one the most vividly, the first of which had been my initiation. I had been sixteen at the time, in a crowded pub on a Saturday night nobody have given me a second glance when I cleared the empty glasses from the table, a simple sleight of hand trick being sufficient to poison one of the pints of beer on the table moments before it was seized and gulped back. He had brown shoulder length hair and a broad northern accent as I recalled, ironically the conversation topic had been something along the lines of future plans. I found out later that he’d been the boyfriend of some rich heiress and didn’t have the intelligence to keep his trousers zipped up without bragging about it. Naturally enough word had quickly got back to her. He’d probably heard the phrase “beware a woman scorned” a dozen times before without thinking it would be instrumental in his death. Even before the poison had started to take effect we were long gone like shadows in the night. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the trigger finger of Patroclus tighten as made the first shot as he done many times before, a half-second later I copied the action and seemingly as one the...

World War Z

I’m reading this book called World War Z by Max Brooks. I’ll confess, I have a pretty horrific mind. So, I was pleasantly surprised to get genuinely creeped out by the first few pages. It gets gnarly on about page 5. Bravo! I also have managed to have dreams about my baby trying to gum me to death during a breastfeeding session, all as a result of this book, but that’s just me. No really, folks… That’s the kind of reading that sets me on fire. I love it. It’s like virtual crack. I don’t need to smoke it to feel paranoid and otherwise jacked-up. Brooks tells the tale through a series of reports from various characters all over the globe who have personally encountered the zombies and lived to speak of it. The people come from all walks of life, which is where things get interesting. You hear the motivations of politicians, the view points of the common citizen, army infantry, doctors, swindlers… He’s included virtually every identifiable group, however, I am not quite finished yet. He may have missed a few. I whole-heartedly recommend this novel to anyone who loves a good freak-out novel. Better yet, It goes beyond the gross. Brooks makes social commentary on many different levels. It covers the economics of a cover-up that evolves into a world war of a second nature. I can’t help but immerse myself in the thought experiment: What if it actually happened? May god grant us all the strength to write something that can put others in as gripping an emotional vice-grip as Brooks’ World War Z. Great stuff! And may the force be with...