In honor of my daughter's 13th birthday (that happened fast) I decided to take this week off. I'm on vacation from work and it turns out my muse is on vacation as well. I promise I will be back to my usual nonsense on Monday.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
The Al Bruno III Ebook Library
PRICE BREAKS AND HEARTACHES VOLUME ONE
available in Ebook Format for 99 Cents.
PRICE BREAKS AND HEARTACHES VOLUME TWO
available in Ebook Format for 99 Cents.
IN THE MIDNIGHT OF HIS HEART
available in Ebook Format for 99 Cents.
Other Ebooks are available here
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
MARBLE HORNETS morphs from a web series into a movie!
Popluar web series MARBLE HORNETS, whose YouTube channel has more than 250,000 subscribers with over 55 million views of its 65 episodes, has just been tapped to become a feature length horror film from production company Mosaic, Variety has reported.
Joining Mosaic on the production is Kirill Baru and John Zaozirny with James Moran, the second unit director on the past three PARANORMAL ACTIVITY films, set to direct from a script by Ian Shorr...
Saturday, February 23, 2013
(Recommended Reads) ANYTHING by Maria Protopapadaki-Smith
Just caught up on her last few stories. She is fantastic...
Elliot walked into the laboratory annexe that housed the test subjects. He found the usual sight waiting for him, rows upon rows of subhumans lying in their cots, motionless, all staring at the ceiling. He felt the familiar unease as he made his way halfway across the warehouse-sized room to the row of creatures that were next in line for testing. He walked up to the datatower that served this row and logged in to check everything was as it should be. The nanoimplants inside each subhuman brain reported that all was quiet in their limbic systems. The implants were designed to block the amygdala area of the brain from receiving stimuli, making subhumans unable to experience emotion...
The terrors I am about to experience are not my own. They will be implanted into my brain so that I can try and find out what happened to Janie Matthews. She is unable to tell us anything; she was found on Saturday morning at Moor House, screaming constantly, though nothing appeared to be physically wrong with her. She has been kept under sedation ever since, but for this procedure to work she must be fully alert so the doctor is letting her come to. She is almost there now – what started as whimpers are now getting louder and will soon turn into full-blown screams. The technicians hook me up to her in anticipation; my brain has been wired to hers for only a couple of seconds and already I am experiencing an extreme sense of foreboding...
The sirens blared. Kimi panicked. Today of all days! She was miles from the safe house with a small arsenal of illicit weapons in the boot. She commanded her vehicle to determine available routes to the safe house. The data on the dashboard told her it was a good fifteen minutes away if she took the freeway, or twenty five if she chose the safe route – not that any routes were truly safe these days, of course. She decided she had too much ammo in the car to risk the freeway. Twenty five minutes would be cutting it fine, and even a minor delay would be enough to cause her to break curfew, but this was still the safer option. If all hell was breaking loose again, the freeway checkpoints would be manned...
(Recommended Reads) The Whirlwind In The Thorn Tree by Sam Hunt
A new novel from my friend Sam Hunt. I have been lucky enough to read this as he was going along and I think his work is really worth your time and attention...
Available at AMAZON.com
THE SOUND OF GUNFIRE startled him awake, but instead of his bed, Ed found himself underwater. A dark and subtle landscape of undulating blue, red, and green materialized from the nothing-world that was his slumber. The cold water threatened to take his breath away.
Ed pushed the slimy stones with his thick hamhock hands and rose against the water's surface, feeling it glass smooth and round over the top of his head. It seemed to happen in slow-motion; he couldn't get enough air into his burning chest, the water wouldn't stream out of his beard fast enough. It clung to his face like melting ice and blurred his eyes.
He gazed, bewildered, at the dead fingers of the evening forest through a curtain of crystal.
Then the water was gone and he fell away from it, collapsing on his back at the stream's edge as it coursed over his numbing feet. He sat up and barked a gout of water from his lungs, panting in ragged gasps, the pain sawing at his throat with every breath.
In that clarity which is so common to the dying, he looked down and marveled with grim eyes at the little sores all over his naked shins, calves, and feet. The diabetes was eating his legs, but today, today was the last day he'd ever have to worry about it again.
Out of the chilling rush of the autumn water, the bullet-hole howled anew and Ed fell back again onto his elbows, growling.
"Get to the house," said the voice, echoing in his head, and he realized it was all he could hear. His head felt like it was wrapped in foam. As he had done so many times before, for so many years before, for so long to his benefit, Ed heeded the raspy words.
He rolled onto his side and pushed himself up again, struggling to his feet. The world swam again, as if he were underwater once more, and dimmed, and he bent over and grasped his knees until he could regain his faculties. He took one step, then another staggering lurch, then stood a bit straighter and continued onto the house.
It waited, lurking huge and fat in the forest, a rundown old white plantation house in the middle of ten thousand winter-stripped trees.
He made it to the back door, and leaned against the splintery rail at the bottom of the stoop to muster up another round of fortitude. He snatched the door open and ordered himself inside.
When he got into the kitchen, he heard someone tapping an impatient foot on the linoleum, but when he looked around in confusion he realized that what he was hearing was the sound of his blood dripping on the floor. The sight of it astounded him, made him reel again; he leaned on the island as he passed it, and started toward the living room.
His shirt, already filthy and soaked through, began to greedily drink up the crimson leaking out of the shredded hole in his neck, spreading it across his chest and shoulder, letting it run down his coarse-haired back.
He couldn't stand anymore. He went to his knees with a thunderous weight that made the dishes in the sink clatter, and fell over onto his side, causing the grill shelf inside the oven to buzz. Ed lay on his back in his own kitchen, his gray eyes staring up at the horrid popcorn ceiling and the overhead light that had stopped working when his boy was still in diapers.
This isn't how it was supposed to go, the old man thought, and he could feel the life running out of him from second to second. This isn't how it was written.
Available at AMAZON.com
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Volumes One and Two of PRICE BREAKS AND HEARTACHES are now available in ebook format only!
The bad news?
The first two volumes of my blog-ography PRICE BREAKS AND HEARTACHES have left the blog and are now only available in ebook format.
The good news?
THEY'RE ONLY 99 CENTS!
If you've never read these stories before or just want to add them to your e-library they're now available from SMASHWORDS and AMAZON.com.
PRICE BREAKS AND HEARTACHES VOLUME ONE
available in Ebook Format for 99 Cents.
PRICE BREAKS AND HEARTACHES VOLUME TWO
available in Ebook Format for 99 Cents.
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