Archive for the ‘zombie shape poems’ Category

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Just checking in with the latest news.

I’ve been busy working on the premiere chapter to the fifth book in this epic series. I now have a title for the book: Don’t Feed The Dark, Book Five: Remains. When I looked up the definition for this word on my phone and read: Remains – the parts left over after other parts have been removed, used, or destroyed I knew immediately that this was going to be a strong primary theme for the next arc of this series.

The first chapter will tentatively be titled: Obituaries. Considering where we left off at the end of Book Four, that doesn’t sound very hopeful… lol. This has been a challenging premiere chapter to write in that this is the first time I’ve written a premiere that will also feel like a finale… and that’s all I can say about it.

Here’s a tidbit about Book Five that I can mention. For all you Northeast Ohio readers out there getting a kick out of the various local settings that I’ve been writing in, Geauga Lake will be one of the locations featured in Book Five. That chapter’s going to be a blast to get into. For those unfamiliar, Geauga Lake was a popular amusement park that was closed down back in 2007, but its remains are still there today… looking very much like the perfect post-apocalyptic setting.

As far as what lies ahead, I am now seeing the eventual finish line of this long, long tale and can tell you that Don’t Feed The Dark will conclude with Book Eight. So I guess you can say we’re a little past the half-way mark. I am already neck-deep into three separate plot lines that will span the next two book in this series, setting up, in part, the last two books. It’s going to be a wild ride to the end. Here are the title teasers for the next three books:

Don’t Feed The Dark, Book Five: Remains
Don’t Feed The Dark, Book Six: Mother
Don’t Feed The Dark, Book Seven: The Prophet

I, of course, will not spoil anything, but there’s a lot going on and I’ve been waiting a very long time to tell various stories found in the next three novels. It’s exciting!

On to other news: The editing of Book Four: Phantoms has been postponed while I’m writing new material, but I’ll try to get it in print as soon as possible. Also, later this month, I’ll have the second part of the two-part interview with Russell Bower for the next After The Dark episode.

As mentioned last month, I’ve started a separate tab at the top of the page for other various dark stories, poems, etc., that I’ve been posting over the month of June. Just click on the “Other Short Works” tab to read any of it. I’ve included all three DFTD spin-off stories there as well.

That’s it for now. I’ll post more updates as we get closer to the premiere.

-Scott

~~~


“The Cure” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko.  All rights reserved.

If you’re new to my blog and want to read something a bit longer, feel free to check out my ongoing serial novel, Don’t Feed The Dark, and tell me what you think: DFTD Chapter 1-1: Demon Night

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halloween-blog-hop-spider-banner

Just in case you missed it, here are the highlights from October 1st through the 10th for my participation in the 2015 October Frights Blog Hop. Here is the complete list of blogs that were involved in this event. Although completed, please feel free to continue to visit these extraordinary writers to find out what they’re all about.

Clarissa Johal, Author of Paranormal & Gothic Horror
Duncan Ralston, Author of Gristle & Bone
Blaze McRob
Kerry Alan Denney aka The Reality Bender
Thomas S. Flowers, Author of Reinheit
A. F. Stewart
Kindra Sowder
Cinsearae S.
Randy Speeg
Miracle Austin
Brandy Jeffus Corona
MYTHICAL BOOKS (INT)
Clay and Susan Griffith
Precious Monsters
Nickronomicon
The Cerebral Writer
Barbara Custer
Katie M John
Lexa Cain
Mary Rajotte
Belinda Frisch (Mystery, Thriller, Horror Author)
Ash Krafton
E.J. Stevens @ From the Shadows
J.H. Moncrieff – Things That Go Bump In The Night
C. Lee Spencer – Love/Kroft
Nicola C. Matthews: Paranormal Fantasy Author
Elizabeth Kelly
KM Randall
Anne Michaud
Steve Vernon
Debbie Christiana
Angela Yuriko Smith
Cathrina Constantine
Kerry Adrienne
E. Chris Garrison
Scott Scherr (Don’t Feed The Dark)
Crymsyn Hart
Zrinka Jelic
B.K. Brain
greydogtales
Chris Verstraete – GirlZombieAuthors
Juli D. Revezzo~Paranormal author

~~~

…And the winners of a free paperback copy of Don’t Feed The Dark are:

Ashley
A.F. Stewart
Shelia Deeth

I’ll be contacting you via the emails you provided. Congratulations!

(GIVEAWAY COMPLETED 10/10/15)

Day 10:

Well the end has finally arrived. It’s been a blast these last ten days. I will be announcing the three winners of the Don’t Feed The Dark book giveaway later today. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy my final offering for this event. As a tribute to all the other writers, I’ve included them in the credits.

Welcome to the Madhouse Theater final event:

Even if you didn’t win a free book, you can still read the serialized version of Don’t Feed The Dark HERE

~~~

Day 9:

Just a quick reminder, this is the last day for the free book giveaway. I’ll be announcing the winners on the tenth. Anyone who takes the time to read an episode or more of my serial novel online (which can be found at the bottom of this post) and leaves a comment about it will automatically be entered into a drawing for a chance at one of three prize copies of Don’t Feed The Dark, Book One: Southbound Nightmares in paperback. Your honest thoughts as a reader are valuable to me and I would love to know what you think.

This hairy beast gets around. There’s been numerous sightings of this guy all across the country and he goes by many, many names. Here is a tale about…

Bigfoot

Bigfoot
“Bigfoot” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko. All rights reserved.

When hunting mysteries of men disguised in clever suits,
or whether you believe in ancient monsters on the loose,
be sure you’re ready for the facts that find you; yes- they bite.
And just beware, you’re camping in its wilderness tonight.

Your team departed long ago, when they first heard the growl.
You would not heed its warning when the sun fell quickly down.
Setting up your digital, high-tech, night vision gadgets,
the need to catch your proof on film begins to border madness.

It finds your fires threatening and longs to be alone.
But still you push on through the dark, while stomping through its home.
Can you hear it coming, somewhere out among those trees?
Get your camera ready, take a shaky photo please.

Was it curiosity that spawned your grand obsession?
Did you think you’d capture it, or make it your possession?
I wonder what your missing link now thinks of being found?
Here comes that documentary, keep still, and make no sounds.

We can see the headlines now, the fame that’s yours alone:
“Bigfoot chaser lost in woods; his whereabouts- unknown.”

Come on back tomorrow for John’s final visual nightmare. And again, if you are curious about Don’t Feed The Dark, you can read the serialized version of the first book online for FREE, with the first episode starting HERE

~~~

Day 8:

Just a quick reminder, there’s only two days left in the free book giveaway. I’ll be announcing the winners on the tenth. Anyone who takes the time to read an episode or more of my serial novel online and leaves a comment about it will automatically be entered into a raffle for a chance at one of three prize copies of Don’t Feed The Dark, Book One: Southbound Nightmares in paperback. Your honest thoughts as a reader are valuable to me and I would love to know what you think.

Everybody loves clowns… right? NO WAY!!! I would rather face a horde of zombies than run into one of these creepy guys somewhere. Beware of the clowns… repeat… Beware of the clowns!

Dark Clown

Dark Clown
“Dark Clown” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko. All rights reserved.

There once was a clown no one wanted around,
for fear of his mental decay.
Entertain he once did in the circus show biz’,
but the freaks soon turned him away.

All his tricks were quite boring, his jokes led to snoring,
so one day this clown changed his ways.
Instead of their laughter, he stalked them thereafter,
with tales that would shock and dismay.

His stories were gory, quite brutal and grim,
about murder in graphic detail.
He would scare folks to death, leave them skipping a breath,
as his listeners often went pale.

He was found quite often, jumping out of dark coffins,
to scare the poor children nearby.
They would run for their lives, as he feigned his surprise,
while he laughed like a madman inside.

The infamous dark clown killed laughter- made frowns,
and that was why he was let go.
If only they’d locked him up, thrown out the key,
perhaps there’d be no more dark shows.

For in between acts, he sold ice cream to brats,
while hunting new prey from his truck.
He drove by each home humming ice cream man songs,
while within him sick thoughts ran amuck.

He was fond of sharp knives; he was fond of housewives,
especially those alone in the day.
His jokes were not funny; he liked to carve ‘honeys’,
and wrap them around to make shapes.

Dark clown always knew that good tales rung of truth,
so he often dragged out brutal crimes.
A little fear getting and a lot of blood letting,
and the screams of his victims- divine.

So he gathered his props from his mobile “big top”,
as he went door to door to perform.
So if you should see a dark clown in your drive,
leave the doors locked- for you have been warned.

“Knock, knock, here’s a story about a girl named Laurie,
who opened her door one dark day.
She saw a dark clown with an awfully dark frown,
now Laurie’s looking gory today.

Knock, knock… ”

Come on back tomorrow for John’s next visual nightmare. And again, if you are curious about Don’t Feed The Dark, you can read the serialized version of the first book online for FREE, with the first episode starting HERE

~~~

Day 7:

Here’s a terribly tragic tale, and a warning to those who would hunt for ghosts. You don’t want to piss them off. I give you…

The Angry Ones

the-angry-ones
“The Angry Ones” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko. All rights reserved.

We dubbed ourselves ghost hunters, sent our death wish in the mail.
Request was granted for our team to camp outside of hell.
The house, by all appearances, was just your average sort:
A family once murdered, and the cause- our ghost, of course.

We had the latest high tech gadgets for this night’s events.
Our psychic warned, “I feel dark vibes”, but she was always tense.
The caretaker refused to come, the realtor did, too.
The house had quite an impact on the local well-to-do.

Not one soul we interviewed would talk about that house.
A word about the family, and folks would kick us out.
The sheriff met us on arrival, and warned us not to stay.
He told us ’bout the angry ones; his words ring true today:

“The ones who died abruptly, ripped from life by violent hands,
and those exposed to every form of evil born to man,
refuse to take the journey home; their hatred burns too bright.
And so their phantoms linger, self-exiled from heaven’s light.

They are like shadows that remain, mere echoes of alive.
And chained by fires forged in pain, repeating how they died.
There is no rest, there is no peace, there’s only retribution.
Absorbing all that violence is their only constitution.

They strike out at the living, hatred manifesting form,
and make a sound mind crazy, for their madness acts as arms.
Your mediums won’t matter for the angry ones don’t speak.
The only thing they want is for all the rest of us to leave.

They do not like intruders for they can’t control their hate.
If you enter in that house, it might just be too late.
There were some folks who messed around inside, long time ago.
If you’d like to hear their tales- the asylum’s up the road.”

Now warned and scorned by those in town, we dared to venture in.
My team, well versed in all ghost lore, were ready to begin.
It wasn’t long before the sound of violence struck our ears.
Our psychic was the first affected, babbling through tears:

“My God,” she screamed. “He slit their throats, then tucked the children in!
He raped the wife repeatedly with an evil looking grin!
He hung the husband from the rafters; made him watch it all!
And when he finished torturing, he cut off the husbands-”

I could not bear to listen and I tried to flee the room.
Something got a hold of me and held me to my doom.
I tried to call my camera men, but something slit their throats.
Our psychic screamed repeatedly- her clothes, torn off by ghosts.

I was made to watch it all, suspended from the ceiling.
It seemed I was reliving all; a deja-vu type feeling.
And even though quite horrified, I felt an extreme rage.
Something snapped inside of me; freed me from my cage.

I woke with blood upon my hands; the sheriff in my face.
His gun was drawn and aimed at me; my team, I killed that day.
Something can be said for good advice beneath the sun.
When hunting ghosts with arrogance, watch out for the angry ones.

~~~

Come on back tomorrow for John’s next visual nightmare. And if you are curious about Don’t Feed The Dark, you can read the serialized version of the first book online for FREE, with the first episode starting HERE

Just a quick reminder, there’s only two days left in the free book giveaway. I’ll be announcing the winners on the tenth.: Anyone who takes the time to read an episode or more of my serial novel online and leaves a comment about it over the next ten days will automatically be entered into a raffle for a chance at one of three prize copies of Don’t Feed The Dark, Book One: Southbound Nightmares in paperback. Your honest thoughts as a reader are valuable to me and I would love to know what you think.

~~~

Day 6:

Here’s an oldie about a haunted ship, titled…

The Flying Dutchman

the-flying-dutchman2
“The Flying Dutchman” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko. All rights reserved.

Four days out of Cape Town with lines trawling seas,
we traveled due south with the winds on our lee.
By night on the fifth day, with holds nearly full,
we aimed for Cape Good Hope with fear in our souls.

No choice but to round it, we strapped up our load,
then prayed for quick passage through storms born too bold.
We’d heard all the stories of an eerie dark light,
from an old weathered frigate that haunted the night.

It hid in the mist like a phantom with sails,
riding the wake of a devilish gale.
And stalking the sterns of all unlucky ships,
to see her meant death had just blown you a kiss.

‘Twas said that a madness had taken the helm,
possessing the captain, a Dutchman from hell.
He’d ridiculed death with a sinister laugh,
as the waves wrecked his ship with a terrible wrath.

His crew begged and pleaded, “Please, just turn around!”
But the Dutchman just smiled and continued to round.
With death wish soon granted, the storms ate her whole:
The Dutchman, his ship, every single last soul.

But the Dutchman had earned him an extended stay,
for mockingly challenging death in his way.
A curse had befallen the ship for all time,
to roam in dark waters, neither dead, nor alive.

It’s said that his crew sometimes spoke from the sea,
hoping for word from long dead families.
And if you should hear them, the screams from such ghosts,
stop all your praying for the Dutchman is close.

He rides in your wake to prevent all escape,
forcing your ship to repeat his mistakes.
He’ll come alongside to let madness aboard,
and soon you’ll be sailing the great ocean floor.

So this is the tale that we take round the cape.
My crew is attentive, the hour is late.
The storms are approaching, the night’s looking grim.
All watch me and wonder, will it happen again?

As of now we’re still praying though the seas kick and fight.
I’ve posted three lookouts to ease the crew’s fright.
I’m prepared to turn back should we catch a foul wind,
and my mates watch me closely-hint of madness-I swim.

Just when it looks like we might make it through,
a lightning bolt flashes, revealing our doom.
At the edge of horizon, in a bright flash of light,
a lookout cries, “Dutchman! Creeping out of the night!”

~~~

Come on back tomorrow for John’s next visual nightmare. And if you are curious about Don’t Feed The Dark, you can read the serialized version of the first book online for FREE, with the first episode starting HERE

Also, I’m running a giveaway: Anyone who takes the time to read an episode or more of my serial novel online and leaves a comment about it over the next ten days will automatically be entered into a raffle for a chance at one of three prize copies of Don’t Feed The Dark, Book One: Southbound Nightmares in paperback. Your honest thoughts as a reader are valuable to me and I would love to know what you think.

~~~

Day 5:

We can’t escape them and everyone is a victim of one of these from time to time. And then the morning comes to show us mercy. I give you…

Nightmares

Nightmares
“Nightmares” Copyright © 2008 John Ecko. All rights reserved.

Within subconscious fields of play,
the darkness will come calling.
From our youth it’s been this way,
as nightmares stall the morning.

What are these things that terrify,
and smother us in sleep?
Are they guilt personified,
or monsters dwelling deep?

They come and take on many shapes,
and catch us without warning.
They lurk within dark hiding place,
and sneak beneath our snoring.

Be sure to check below the bed,
and closets must stay closed.
Be mindful not to wake the dead,
and pray as all do know.

For sometimes nightmares come to life,
escaping wayward dreams.
Haunting in the broad daylight,
within mind’s eye we see.

Could be a memory repressed
from day so long ago.
A lonesome child in deep distress
and horrors left untold.

Don’t need the night to bring to light,
that something in our sleep’s not right.
Some will seek each piece and fight-
these creatures that lay siege to night.

Can we gaze into these faces,
that run amuck in shadow spaces?
Do they beckon us to face this?
What is inside of us- these traces?

Does darkness hide a door to freedom?
These nightmares are the key- we feed them.
Locked within our fears, release them.
Are they simply mirrors we flee from?

~~~

Come on back tomorrow for John’s next visual nightmare. And if you are curious about Don’t Feed The Dark, you can read the serialized version of the first book online for FREE, with the first episode starting HERE

Also, I’m running a giveaway: Anyone who takes the time to read an episode of my serial novel online and leaves a comment about it over the next ten days will automatically be entered into a raffle for a chance at one of three prize copies of Don’t Feed The Dark, Book One: Southbound Nightmares in paperback. Your honest thoughts as a reader are valuable to me and I would love to know what you think.

~~~

Day 4:

Zombies are everywhere these days. It is only fitting that I dig up this dead tale titled…

The Cure

the-cure
“The Cure” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko. All rights reserved.

It started in the labs, a cure for sickness on demand.
A little bit of “this” and “that” mixed with cellular strands.
What we didn’t realize was that it worked too well.
For even when test subjects died, they came right back from hell.

Something partly man became infused with something dark;
A pre-demonic creature with a rabid beating heart.
New species with clean bill of health, depending on your view.
The cure for sickness multiplied; an altered race now grew.

I watched Doc Parsons drink it first, he craved immortal bliss.
By pride, made blind to consequence, the grave he nearly kissed.
But somehow Parsons came right back, a man not quite himself.
And as he slowly changed within, we took the cure ourselves.

For he was stronger than before, immune to all disease.
We envied his vitality and so we did believe.
The changes were quite subtle ’till the madness took control.
By then we felt our inwards burn; the cure consumed our souls.

As time went by, we paid no mind to what our mirrors showed.
The boils that blistered on our skin that stretched across new bones.
Our hair fell out, as did our teeth, but oddly, we grew new ones.
Razor sharp for digging deep, and soon we longed to use them.

That’s when we understood, in part, the creatures we’d become.
We’d spread, much like disease itself; sent humans on the run.
Among our heightened senses, we acquired different tastes.
And that’s when we began to crave the flesh of our old race.

And now, when I am resting, my subconscious takes control.
These are the only moments I’m afforded from the old.
I’m trapped within a cavern deep, within this monstrous hell.
I write words to warn you, that the cure’s a door to hell.

We tried to make ourselves immune, we tried to better man.
We tampered with Pandora’s Box deep in our cellular strands.
By science we’d prepared our doom, exploring God-like hunch.
And while we sought to cure mankind, we turned him into lunch.

~~~

Come on back tomorrow for John’s next visual nightmare. And if you are curious about Don’t Feed The Dark, you can read the serialized version of the first book online for FREE, with the first episode starting HERE

Also, I’m running a giveaway: Anyone who takes the time to read an episode of my serial novel online and leaves a comment about it over the next ten days will automatically be entered into a raffle for a chance at one of three prize copies of Don’t Feed The Dark, Book One: Southbound Nightmares in paperback. Your honest thoughts as a reader are valuable to me and I would love to know what you think.

~~~

Day 3:

Here’s a twisted tale of a deranged maniac and his obsession. My ode to the classic slasher stories. I give you…

For the Love of All the Pieces

for-the-love-of-all-the-pieces
“For the Love of All the Pieces” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko. All rights reserved.

Leroy bought a brand new toy, and lately he’s been busy.
Chopping, slicing, making noise; destroying made him giddy.
He mastered math with chainsaw wrath, his specialty: division.
His conscience warred at evil’s door but lost the split decision.

Leroy was a broken boy who owned a broken life.
Abused, confused and never whole; in him- the pieces fight.
But by the spinning blade, remade, he’d part the dead, black sea.
A prophet for all souls with holes, collectively set free.

Leroy called in sick today, his sanity soon strayed.
He mutilated his own flesh- the mess that was his face.
But he could not resist the bliss; the buzz became his call.
Insisting that he would find peace, through pieces of them all.

That’s when folks went missing – that’s right – missing body parts.
For Leroy brought them to his home, to celebrate new starts.
Donations were abundant, though reluctant, they all gave.
Limb by limb he gathered them, inscribed in each, their names.

Leroy was efficient and sufficiently redeemed them.
He would cut the bad parts out then reassemble Eden.
A paradise of fragments, former souls too dark, left whole.
In his world the lame man ruled, no matter young or old.

Haughty eyes were cut out, and the lying tongues removed.
Those who never listened- an additional ear for you.
The vain received most painful scars to bring about real beauty.
For the chainsaw brought the rainfall as it made the prideful puny.

Leroy looked upon his deeds and blessed was he, above.
For by his gift for slicing swift, equality would come.
His victims egos mattered not, the big became the small.
And it was all for love that made old Leroy cut them all.

~~~

Come on back tomorrow for John’s next visual nightmare. And if you are curious about Don’t Feed The Dark, you can read the serialized version of the first book online for FREE, with the first episode starting HERE

Also, I’m running a giveaway: Anyone who takes the time to read an episode of my serial novel online and leaves a comment about it over the next ten days will automatically be entered into a raffle for a chance at one of three prize copies of Don’t Feed The Dark, Book One: Southbound Nightmares in paperback. Your honest thoughts as a reader are valuable to me and I would love to know what you think.

~~~

Day 2:

Welcome back everyone. What is Halloween without your classic vampire? Here is a little visual titled…

The Blood

the-blood
“The Blood” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko. All rights reserved.

The moon is my warden, the night is my cell.
The dawn brings relief for the blood is my hell.
Like a madness that owns me, I hunt for release;
Compelled by what’s in you, I cannot find peace.

I rise from the earth, just a shadow of life,
Driven by those with a pulse in the night.
For the blood is the substance—all shadows take hold,
Without it, the darkness becomes bitter cold.

By desperate ends, the thirst makes me steal.
I take what belongs to the light and what’s real.
I long for acceptance beneath harsh sunlight,
And a way to escape, independent of night.

I’m branded as evil by those who court days,
Akin to the lion who must seek his prey.
But the king of the jungle has earned your respect,
While I, and my kind, you have labeled a threat.

It’s true I have fed on Mankind down the years,
But this is my nature—it’s the food chain you fear.
For doesn’t the dominant species prevail?
And haven’t you fed upon others as well?

I have lived many lifetimes according to Man,
And have seen what you’ve done by the blood of your hands.
You kill one another in numbers too vast,
At the blink of an eye or the drop of Man’s wrath.

Who condemns Man for the death he inflicts?
By all rights, what am I, in comparison to this?
I do what I must for the blood to survive.
But you are the threat to those clinging to life.

So tell all your tales in the safety of lights,
And call me the creature that haunts all your nights.
Reach for your crosses and sharpen your stakes,
But there’s no holy water that will cleanse Man’s mistakes.

I’ve been your predator for a very long time,
To keep you in check, let you know the night’s mine.
For you’ve done enough damage beneath the red sun,
And on nights when I hunt you… the world owes me one.

~~~

Come on back tomorrow for John’s next visual nightmare. And if you are curious about Don’t Feed The Dark, you can read the serialized version of the first book online for FREE, with the first episode starting HERE

Also, I’m running a giveaway: Anyone who takes the time to read an episode of my serial novel online and leaves a comment about it over the next ten days will automatically be entered into a raffle for a chance at one of three prize copies of Don’t Feed The Dark, Book One: Southbound Nightmares in paperback. Your honest thoughts as a reader are valuable to me and I would love to know what you think.

~~~

Day 1

Welcome to the 2015 October Frights Blog Hop! My name is Scott Scherr, author of the apocalyptic zombie serial novel and book series, Don’t Feed The Dark. You can find out more about me and my other projects HERE. I’ll talk a little about my series at the end of this post.

When I’m not writing about the undead, I dabble in various forms of poetry from traditional to free verse. I also have a special place in my heart for shape poetry, which I create under the pseudonym, John Ecko. It seemed fitting to let Mr. Ecko out of the closet for this special occasion. So over the next ten days, I will be sharing some of his darker visual works to help us all get into the Halloween spirit.

(Just a side note for anyone not familiar with shape poetry, all the words in each visual piece are read from the top line on down, and left to right. I’ve included the words at the bottom for an easier read.)

So without any further delay, let me re-introduce you to an old friend… a neighbor, of a sorts. He has lived in your closets, beneath your beds, and all those other dark corners in your homes (especially when you’re alone). I give you…

Boogeyman

boogeyman-ecko1
“Boogeyman” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko. All rights reserved.

I am that creepy, crawly claw
that digs into calm thoughts.
A snapping branch, a thunderstorm,
a from the closet cough.

I am that lurking shadow thing,
invading bedroom night.
You know the one, the shapeless sting,
that makes you scream for light.

I am the darkness following,
you look, but I hide well.
Your rapidly beating heart knows me,
and is my only tell.

I wait for you at nightmare’s edge,
or down that dark lit street.
Beneath your bed, among the dead,
or wherever shadows breathe.

I’m called the Boogeyman,
my name brings fear by mere suggestion.
Perhaps I’m just a figment
of your dark imaginations.

But maybe I’m a little more
than all your safe day’s claim.
Something primal, locked real deep,
for in each of you… I remain.

~~~

Come on back tomorrow for John’s next visual nightmare. And if you are curious about Don’t Feed The Dark, you can read the serialized version of the first book online for FREE, with the first episode starting HERE

Also, I’m running a giveaway: Anyone who takes the time to read an episode of my serial novel online and leaves a comment about it over the next ten days will automatically be entered into a raffle for a chance at one of three prize copies of Don’t Feed The Dark, Book One: Southbound Nightmares in paperback. Your honest thoughts as a reader are valuable to me and I would love to know what you think.

~~~

Southbound Nightmares

In the pre-dawn hours on a Saturday morning, something malevolent has awoken, striking fear and terror into unsuspecting citizens all throughout North East Ohio. Former acquaintances, neighbors, loved ones—all at random—transform into flesh-craving monsters hell bent on devouring the living. Corpses are rising from their places of unrest. Nocturnal animal-man hybrids hunt in packs. The dead are awakening from within the living…

By morning, the sun weeps over streets splattered blood-red as an unsettling silence soon follows, lulling the broken remains of society into believing the blood bath is over. Survivors gather to lick their wounds and mend their broken hearts and ravaged lives as local governments struggle to maintain law and order.

As a second wave approaches, a handful of survivors from all walks of life must put aside their differences and band together to escape the pending slaughter while storm clouds begin to gather from within their fragile community. Some who were once respectable in the eyes of society will devolve into madness while the despicable rise to the occasion in a world no longer respecting of persons.

It is their world now. The dead are hungry and do not discriminate…

~~~

Book One is more than 400 pages and contains the first fifteen chapters in the series as well as bonus material, including the first two Spin-Off stories, Playing With Fire and Red Light.

So if you are ready to hold a copy of DFTD in your hands, I encourage you to take advantage of this great discount by visiting the Lulu.com link below:

Buy now at Lulu for 50% off!

DFTD is also available to purchase at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and The Book Depository (w/free shipping). Just check out my links section.

~~~

COMING MID OCTOBER…

BOOK TWO FINISHED COVER-reduced size

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anger-794699_640

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Amanda, feigning sleep, watched Charlie from the couch. He hadn’t said one word to her—hadn’t so much as looked at her—after what happened. He simply pulled up the rocking chair near the broken window and stared out into the night, choosing to return to the comfort of his own private thoughts. The difference, she noted, was the smug smile of contentment plastered on his face.

She was a nervous wreck. What had she witnessed tonight? God only knew. For the moment, she just wanted to crawl into a hole and die in her sleep. Maybe when the morning came, she’d discover that this had all been some horribly twisted nightmare and that the rest of her group would still be snoring away beside her. Strange. She never thought of the others as ‘her group’ until now. She was learning quickly that being alone makes one appreciate even their enemies.

Two thoughts continued to persistently gnaw at her mind like the raving mad monsters who hunted them: Charlie doesn’t need me. Charlie is fucking dangerous.

She desperately wanted a look into his head to find out what he was thinking. Amanda’s shock kept her from pursuing the matter of the attack. And now, she was too damn afraid of him to ask. She’d never been terrified of a man before. Never. But things were dissolving rather quickly in this fucked-up world and she was discovering all sorts of new things to be afraid of.

Amanda had to find a way to get on Charlie’s good side now. She was dead without his… protection… especially since the others were probably long gone.

Charlie surprised her when he finally spoke. “Looks like neither one of us are going to get much sleep tonight.”

She sat up and asked, “Are… are you alright?”

“You can always tell when someone’s asleep.” He ignored her question. “There’s a natural ease in slumber—a vulnerability, if you will—that can’t be faked. You were too damn still to be asleep.”

She didn’t know how to respond.

“Can’t say that I blame you. I’d be afraid of me, too… shit… this is still freaking me out on a very surreal level.”

“How did you… do that, Charlie?”

“You’re welcome, by the way. I thought maybe the second time saving your skin would produce some genuine gratitude in you. Perhaps that’s just your defense mechanism kicking in… you know, the thing that makes you a bitch no matter what. Don’t worry… I get it. We all need to maintain our fronts more than ever. ‘Only the strong survive’ type of shit, right?”

Amanda needed to turn this around in her favor. “You’re right. I can be a real cold-hearted bitch. If my daughter were still alive, she could testify to it.”

Charlie laughed.

Amanda swallowed her pride and put on her best performance. “Truth is, since Marie died, I’ve been using her death as an excuse to indulge in some old ways I thought dead. The drinking, the sex, the piss-poor attitude I carry around—it’s all a part of it.” She lowered her eyes to the floor.

“Please, go on,” Charlie encouraged.

“Well, all that just to say, I’ve treated you like shit, Charlie. And for that, I’m truly sorry.”

Charlie laughed again and said, “Bravo! That would be one hell of a performance if I didn’t know your sincerity was bullshit. Furthermore, I find your condescending attitude insulting. Not to mention, playing your own dead daughter as a sympathy card. You are a true bitch with absolutely no shame. Did you really expect me to believe that you would suddenly have a change of heart… here… now? Why don’t you stop treating me like someone you’re trying to swindle a bottle of bourbon from and finally show me some real respect. I think I’ve earned it, don’t you?”

Amanda’s bluff was called. She was running out of options. “You got me again, Charlie. I keep underestimated you.”

Charlie sighed, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. He looked back out the window. “I was thinking a little while ago about something good old Mr. Creepy said to me at the power plant. Frank’s always taking little jabs at me and most of the time I shake them off. But he said this one thing to me when we were talking about who could sail the boat. I forget exactly, but he hinted at how expendable I was, and that since he could also navigate a boat, I had nothing left to offer the group. What did he say… oh, yes… he said that I had no leverage, and, in so many words, I was pretty much useless in this savage world without it. That damn comment got under my skin like you wouldn’t believe. But now, I get it… and the big prick’s absolutely right. Without leverage, there’s no real advantage, and nothing to keep you safe when the dogs start tearing at one another.”

Amanda waited.

Charlie laughed. “Turns out that I’ve got one hell of a card to play which pretty much trumps the rest of them.” He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back. “Feels good to have the only card that matters.”

“Charlie, what’s the plan now? I mean… it doesn’t look like anyone’s coming. Where do we go from here?”

“I’m leaving in the morning. I’ll continue up river headed east until I get to a real city, then I’m going to find a fucking car and go wherever the hell I please.”

The implied ‘I’ did not escape notice. She took a deep breath. “Charlie, I get it. You have all the power now. I’m sure you’re asking yourself why you need me to drag you down. What can I say to convince you to let me come along… at least until we find others? Then you won’t have to bother with this bitch anymore.”

“You’re not a nice person, Amanda. Hell… I’m no saint, but compared to you I might as well be.”

She had only one card left to play but found it extremely difficult now that she was sober. “I can be… nice,” she teased, letting the left shoulder of her blouse fall. “Take me along and I’ll show you how nice I can be.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “I’m talking about leverage and you’re offering me sex? And by the way, your powers of seduction have diminished significantly since you’ve lost your liquid crutch… not to mention, the whole blood and grime look is a real turnoff. You must really be desperate.”

She was getting angry now.

Charlie saw it. “There it is! The truth, at last. There’s the Amanda I’ve come to know and love.”

“You’re really going to just leave me here? What kind of man are you?”

Charlie stood up. “Now that is a great question which I intend to explore, sweetheart. And ‘yes’, I’ve no qualms about leaving you here to rot in this place.”

Amanda looked crushed.

“But… if you were to change your attitude, and do what I say when I say it, I might take you along.”

“What are we talking about here?”

“It’s not a pleasant feeling losing control, is it? It’s easier when you’re the one doing the manipulating, but it’s a real bitch being manipulated.”

Amanda said nothing.

“Well, that’s exactly what I expect you to give me as payment for my troubles.”

“Control?” Amanda said.

“Yes,” Charlie said with an amused expression on his face. “Think of it as a small sacrifice or a survival necessity, if that spin makes you feel better.”

Amanda fought a battle with the rage within and won. “Alright. We’ll do this your way.”

“You’ll give me control?”

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?”

“Say it.”

Amanda took a deep breath and then spit out the words. “I… give… you… control.”

“Excellent! We’re off to a fair start already.”

“So,” Amanda said, growing tired of this game, “are we still heading up river in the morning?”

“Yes,” Charlie said enthusiastically.

“Then you won’t mind if I get some sleep, do you?”

“Well… there’s one other thing you need to do for me first.” Charlie was gloating.

Great. More games. “Okay, what’s that?”

“I want you to prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“I want you to prove that I have control.” He unzipped his pants.

“You want me to…” she was getting angry again. “Right now?”

“Yep.”

“But you made it clear that you find me repulsive.”

“That’s true. I wouldn’t fuck you with a ten-foot pole right now. You stink. But nothing would satisfy me more than shutting that mouth of yours up.”

She was fuming. “No! I won’t do it!”

“You’ve done it before haven’t you? At the power plant?”

“That was different.”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah… that’s right. You were always in control before. Probably made it easier for your conscience to swallow—pardon the pun—when you were drunk as a skunk.”

“Fuck you!”

“Fine. You’re out of the club,” Charlie said. “Good luck tomorrow. I can’t guarantee the undead will leave you alone once I’m gone. But you’re a big girl. I’m sure you can handle it.” He turned to go.

“Wait.” Amanda never felt so humiliated. He had her right where he wanted and he intended to play dirty. She moved quickly before she could think about it. She knelt before his waist to get the deed done.

“Stop,” he said.

“What?” she asked.

“Ask me nicely, bitch.”

“Excuse me?”

Charlie bent over and whispered, “I want you to ask me nicely for my permission before you… proceed.”

“You’re a monster,” she whispered through tears.

“What was that?”

Amanda closed her eyes, and said the monster’s words.

~~~

Next Episode 15-3

Previous Episode 15-1

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If you’re enjoying Don’t Feed The Dark so far, please consider voting for it on Top Web Fiction and Top Site List by clicking the links below. This will help increase its visibility and draw in more potential readers. No registration is required. Thanks for your support and for reading :)

http://topwebfiction.com/
http://www.top-site-list.com/zombie/vote/457627

__________________________________________
“Chapter 15-2: Lost” Copyright © 2014, 2015 Scott Scherr. From the Novel “Don’t Feed The Dark, Book One: Southbound Nightmares”.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission by the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

2015 October Frights Blog Hop, October 1st – 10th

Posted: September 22, 2015 in Apocalypse, books, creative writing, drama, Free Online Novel, free zombie books, Horror, horror fiction, Interviews/Reviews, killing zombies, living dead, monsters, mystery, novels, serial novels, Survival, suspense, thriller, Uncategorized, walking dead, writer's blogs, zombie art, zombie books, zombie shape poems, Zombies
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Halloween blog hop SPIDER Banner

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I’m excited to announce that I will be joining in on the 2015 October Frights Blog Hop. This is an event hosted by Clarissa Johal, uniting various horror writers from around the web for this ten day Halloween event. I encourage you all to check it out and consider adding your blog to the links listed below (Just click the froggie) and let’s help promote each other’s blogs for this ten day spook-fest. You can also find out more by checking out the Facebook Event Page.

For my contribution to this Fright-fest, each day starting October 1st, I will be letting visual poet, John Ecko, out of his dark corner to share some visual nightmares from his collection… and maybe a few additional surprises as well. Should be a blast.

See you then,
-Scott

sample3

BOOK TWO FINISHED COVER-reduced size

Don’t Feed The Dark, Book One: Southbound Nightmares is available to purchase in paperback!

Book Two: Almost Dead will be available in October!

The first book is still available at 50% off the listing price over at my Lulu page.

Book One is more than 400 pages and contains the first fifteen chapters in the series as well as bonus material, including the first two Spin-Off stories, Playing With Fire and Red Light.

So if you are ready to hold a copy of DFTD in your hands, I encourage you to take advantage of this great discount by visiting the Lulu.com link below:

Buy now at Lulu for 50% off!

DFTD is also available to purchase at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and The Book Depository (w/free shipping). Just check out my links section.

For those of you who have already read the series online or have already purchased and read the first book, I would love it if you could stop on over and leave a review at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Lulu, etc., to let others know how much you have enjoyed the series so far. You don’t have to write much, just a couple of sentences stating what you liked would suffice. I would really, really appreciate it since potential readers check out reviews in helping them decide what to purchase.

Also, please spread the word through social media and help make DFTD known.

Thanks again to everyone who has been supporting this series. You have all been a great motivation.

-Scott

Jave Zombie (A Tribute to the Walking Dead)

“Java Zombie” Copyright © 2013 John Ecko. All rights reserved.

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They Come
“They Come” Copyright © 2008 John Ecko. All rights reserved. From the the book: “Signs of Life, A Book of Visual Poetry”

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The Cure

“The Cure” Copyright © 2010 John Ecko. All rights reserved. From the book, “Madhouse Theater”

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These were a few oldies from John. He’s working on some new stuff for later posts. If you like John’s shape poems, you can check out more of his eckos here:

http://eckovision.wordpress.com