Avery Nolan: Private Dick of the Dead *FREE* E-book
My Hard Boiled/Zombie novella e-book, Avery Nolan: Private Dick of the Dead is currently being offered for free at Amazon for the Kindle. If you don’t already have a copy, now is the time to get it. Oh, and do me a favor if you download it for free, please leave a review, it’s the least you can do.
http://www.amazon.com/Avery-Nolan-Private-Dick-ebook/dp/B005AZHQJS/ref=zg_bs_157312011_14
I was interviewed at Zombiephiles.com
That is correct, I was interviewed by Astradaemon over at Zombiephiles.com to go along with her Five Star review of Avery Nolan: Private Dick of the Dead.
Yes, Avery is still out there, chugging along like the little engine that could. Sales are slowly climbing and last month was its best month ever.
Interview with Marc Vietor, Narrator of Kings of the Dead – Audio
As you may know by now, my first novel, Kings of the Dead was picked up a few months back by audible.com for distribution as an audio-book. Some of the questions I was asked included, will you be doing the narration, and do you get to choose who does the narration? Well, the answer to both of those was no, I had no say in the process and it all fell into Audible’s more than capable hands. After a time, the audiobook was ready for release, and I got my hands on it, and to say the least, I was very pleased with the narration.
Narrated by a gentleman by the name of Marc Vietor, I was able to see Kings of the Dead come to life in a way I had personally not been able to experience. To have someone not just read the book to you, but to do so by bringing emotion and further depth to the characters I created was an emotional experience for me. I quickly located Marc Vietor and inquired as to whether he would be willing to submit to a brief interview about his job and processes. Not only did he reply, but he was happy to comply with my interview request.
And with that, here is my interview with Marc Vietor, narrator of Kings of the Dead:
Thank you for taking the time to do this interview with me Marc, I am sure my most dedicated fans would love to learn a little more about you. So, I would like to start by asking you to take a moment and introduce yourself to my readers, basically tell them who you are and maybe a little about your background?
I’m an actor and director living in New York on the Upper West side. I came to New York from California to attend drama school at Juilliard and have remained here. I grew up in San Francisco and then came back east to go to college at Yale and grad school at Juilliard. I work mostly on stage. I’ve appeared on and off Broadway and in a few TV shows, including “Law And Order”. I’ve also appeared on the Onion News Network online.
What was it that got you into providing narrations for audio books?
I auditioned for an audiobook company – Audible.com – about five years ago and have been recording fairly steadily ever since. When I was growing up in California, my parents only allowed me to watch TV on the weekends, so I spent a lot of time listening to the radio. I developed a love of radio plays and narrated stories that I’m sure helped me with my narrating now.
Is there any one particular book out there that you would consider to be highlight of your career if given the opportunity to narrate?
I would love to narrate a comic novel, something by David Sedaris or David Foster Wallace. I recently narrated a fantastic book called 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami.
With Kings of the Dead being part of the zombie genre, I have to ask, are you a zombie fan, or was reading Kings just another job? (And no offense taken if it was just a job)
I am a huge fan of the zombie genre, which I know has been on the rise for a few years. In general I am a big fan of horror and fantasy – generally leaning more toward horror. I loved reading Kings Of The Dead not only because it was well written and full of classic zombie adventure – including a cool back story for the rise of the zombies – but also because the characters were more three-dimensional than most zombie books and emotions run high.
What is your favorite book genre?
I love sci-fi, fantasy and horror to read aloud. I usually read nonfiction when I’m reading for myself.
How do you prepare yourself for narrating a book?
I read the book through once, then I go through it a second time with colored pens, marking up and distinguishing the characters. Each character has a different color and is recorded in a book – a “bible” that I use to keep track of the voices of each character. This is helpful if I’m doing a series and have to re-create a character from an earlier book.
How long does it take you to narrate an audio book on average? I know the final running time on Kings was close to 7 hours, but having done some audio work myself, I know the actual recording time was much greater than 7 hours.
My narrating speed is slightly above average. It usually takes me an hour to record forty minutes of a book. This is slightly higher than the desired standard for narrators which is 2:1. Of course certain books are more challenging than others and can sometimes take longer.
With Kings of the Dead, it seemed to me like you really captured the emotions I was trying to express with my writing. Is there anything you look to, or use for motivation when trying to capture the moment as presented by the writers?
I generally try to lose myself in the characters as much as possible, which is why I don’t start working on “acting” the book until after I’ve read it through twice and have an idea of how the characters express themselves. I don’t use any particular acting techniques, and I don’t use my own experiences as much as I try to imagine someone else’s.
Do you have anything scheduled for the future that you would like to share with us? (Stage, film, TV, notable books?)
My next project is going to ba a play here in New York, but I will probably also be narrating a new book as well. Unfortunately I don’t have any say in which books I get to narrate. Sometimes I audition for them and other times they are assigned to me. I tend to get books that have many characters and which require a variety of dialects, like detective novels, fantasy adventures, sci-fi and horror.
Again, thank you for the great narration. It was truly interesting to have someone read my work to me. I originally wrote Kings of the Dead in 2009 and pushed it out as a self-published author. After a year of sales, Permuted Press came to me and asked me if I would like to sign a contract, all I would need to do is extend the book. So after adding an additional 30% to the original story, and all of the edits and rewrites, I have been through my own book multiple times. So to be able to sit back and have someone read it to me? Well, I have to tell you, it was a little more than emotional in a couple of spots.
Thanks again for the kind words, Tony. I loved reading your book and I’m delighted that you felt that I did it justice. Have a great Christmas!
Thanks again for the narration and the interview Marc. If you would like to find more of Marc work, you can find a list of his narrations on Audible.com
And of course, Kings of the Dead can be found here.
David Moody’s Autumn: Disintegration
If you have ever read one of the many interviews I have done over the past couple of years, you would have read that I have been a fan of the zombie genre for close to 30 years now. I grew up watching the movies and continue to do just that. One aspect of the zombie genre that I did not click with until somewhere around 2003 or 2004 was the literary side. Yes, you read that write, a zombie writer that did not read his first zombie book until sometime in the last decade.
Come on, you have to admit, there was not a whole lot available for us back in the “old” days. If there had been the selection we have available to us these days, I would have likely been reading a lot more of the genre before that time.
When I did discover the literary side, I found two books and immediately ordered them both from Amazon. Autumn by David Moody, and Monster Island by David Wellington. I remember very distinctly breaking into Autumn first and becoming hooked not only on the universe that David had created, but also on Davids particular style of writing. I wanted more, and I acquired more (including first editions of the next two books The City, and Purification) over time.
To say I have been a fan of David Moody and his work for several years now would surely not be a stretch of the truth. And yes, before anyone asks, I am a fan of David Wellington and his work as well, but this blog post is about Mr. Moody and his latest release, Autumn:Disintegration
Several weeks ago, I had a chance to watch the movie version of Autumn, and I immediately sent a tweet to David. I had followed him for a while but never really communicated with him. Anyway, I tweeted David and said I had just watched Autumn, and I was sorry the filmmakers had done to his book what they had done, and that as soon as I win the lotto, I will gladly buy back his film rights and do the movie right this time.
I got a response from David, and I thought that was pretty damn cool.
A short while later, I was able to get my name in the hat for a free copy of Disintegration, and I thought that was pretty damn cool as well.
Then a few days later, a friend of mine posted a link to an interview done with David where he not only mentioned my publisher, Permuted Press, but he also mentioned me and two other Permuted authors by name, and I about passed out. It’s not that I am some bleeding fanboy that can’t hold myself together, it’s that someone I respect, respects me enough to have mentioned me. Hell yeah that was cool.
So, I received my copy of Autumn: Disintegration, and just finished it this evening. As I started the book, I was thrust immediately back into the Autumn universe with little to no introduction to the who’s, the how’s, the what’s, the when’s, and the why’s. This was clearly another tale in the Autumn series and not intended to be a stand alone novel. No sir, this one was written for the fans of the series and the writing shows it.
David dives deeper into his descriptions of the bloated and putrified decaying corpses that cover the landscape, sometimes quite literally, than he has in the past. If you have a weak stomach, too bad, Moody has little compassion for that concern in his readers as he pushes the envelope wide open for how much bile he can bring to the back of your throat with his descriptions of the corpses. I’m not kidding you, there are times you can almost smell it he has described it so well.
I don’t think highly of reviews that spoil the hell out of a well written tome, so all I will say is the book starts with a group of survivors that find themselves forced out of their stronghold because of their activity, only to find themselves in the stronghold of another group of survivors. Only thing is, this group of survivors has chosen a different tact of survival, that being silence, potential starvation and simply trying to outlast the dead.
Honestly, if I told you any more than that, it would result in nothing more than spoiling it. Seriously, just do yourself a favor, and go pick up a copy of this book.
For David, in case you come across this blog post, I have one question for you: When did you ever find yourself face down in eighteen inches of putrified corpses? I only ask because you wrote about it so well, you could only know from experience, and that’s just nasty.
Oh, and one more thing David, thank you. Thank you for being an inspiration, your respect, and for the Autumn universe.
Tony Faville
David Moody’s Autumn: Disintegration on Amazon
Happy Thanksgiving
I can’t really lie to you, those words have very few sincere meanings for me these days. To me it just means a simplified turkey dinner with my wife at home.
I have no family in the immediate area, although my wife does have family that lives a little over 100 miles North from us, but in spite of having been down here in Portland for the past 12 years there has never once been an invitation of any sort around the holidays.
I do have a daughter, that is married and living her own life, and this holiday, among many other holidays and personal celebrations, tend to be marred by the status of our relationship. My daughter was poisoned by her mother over the years to the point that I have been able to be a part of her life for just a few of the past 17 years. Fact is, I have not even seen her in over 3 years now, not a record length of time in our tenuous relationship, but certainly growing worse with every passing day.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my daughter and miss her with every beat of my heart, but after the past 17 years I do my best to live without hope that things will change. It has been my experience that living in hope that maybe this thanksgiving, or this birthday, or this random day will be the day she finally grows up and sees me for the man I am instead of the man her mother has told her I am, is nothing more than a heartwrenching unrequited wait.
So, my wish out there for those of you with children that love you, is to treasure every single moment you have. To never lose sight of things and let anger destroy the relationship you have. To be thankful for every precious minute you have with your child, for you never know when, or how they will be taken from you.
Have a happy thanksgving.
Tony Faville
Run…
Born from the first zombie dream that ever woke me up without a smile on my face, and nurtured by the inspiration from my experiences at ZomBCon last weekend.
Yes, you read that right, I am currently writing a new novel and at the rate I am going, I expect to have the initial draft completed by the end of November. Allowing time for a rewrite, edit, and another potential rewrite, it should be done sometime after the first of the year. I will be running it by Permuted Press, but just because they published one of mine, does not mean they will publish the next one. Time will tell.
Meanwhile, I will be focusing on writing, so that gives you time to get out there and read all of the other books available from Permuted Press.
Go! Do it! Now!
Thank you!
Tony
ZomBCon 2011 After Action Report
As you already know, I was invited by my publisher, Permuted Press, to attend ZomBCon in Seattle, Washington this past weekend. As Julius Caesar said in 47 B.C., Veni, Vidi, Vici.
I tend to think I had a little better time than old Julius did.
What happened? Well, let me tell you in a rather roundabout way.
Friday morning I arrived in Seattle and hooked up with my publisher, woke his ass up would be a more appropriate way of putting it. Shortly after checking into the hotel we moved the books from my vehicle to what we assumed would be our table. While riding up in the elevator, I realized the gentleman standing in the corner was none other than JARLATH CONROY, McDermott from Day of the Dead 1985. After politely introducing myself and shaking his hand, we got the boxes situated and moved on from there. While waiting to speak to someone, I recognized another person, and again politely introduced myself to JUDITH O’DEA, Barbara from Night of the Living Dead, 1968.
Heading down the elevator, I again ran into someone else I recognized, my dear friend ROBERT ELROD, a wonderful artist and all around hell of a guy. We eventually got the tables all straightened out as the Permuted Press authors started to trickle in…people such as PETER CLINES, BOWIE IBARRA, JASON HORNSBY, CRAIG DILOUIE, DL SNELL, the lovely and amazingly talented ELOISE KNAPP (seriously, the girl reeks of talent, be prepared to follow her pending meteoric rise) and TIM LONG. As we set up, I realized that I would be sitting next to JUDITH O’DEA for the entire weekend. My inner fanboy was clawing his way out of my chest….but only long enough for me to break the ice further with her and talked to her. Little did I know, I would spend the next three days being able to talk to her about anything that happened to come to mind. She was incredibly warm, gracious, inviting and friendly, something we discussed at length. I eventually gave her a copy of my book and she in turn gave me a signed photo. When she asked me why I chose the picture I did (a full color of her sitting in a makeup chair), instead of one of the more iconic scenes, I could not lie to her and told her because she looked beautiful in it. Yeah, sue me, I’m a flirt and she is an amazing lady.
I also met TOM SAVINI in the hotel lobby. Now, to be fair, I have heard horror stories about SAVINI. I don’t know if it’s just my approach, but he was very friendly with me, and responded very graciously to what I had to say.
Anyway, long story short, the rest of the day was spent talking to the wonderful attendees of the show, the hard working Volunteer Horde, my fellow authors that made me feel as if I were sitting at a table with a group of family or friends instead of the relative strangers we all were, and the multitude of celebrities passing by our table.
I took an opportunity that day to talk to JOHN AMPLAS from Day of the Dead, Martin, Knightriders, etc, MICHAEL GORNICK from Dawn of the Dead, DAVID EMGE, Flyboy in Dawn of the Dead 1978, and the even more beautiful now than she was 26 years ago, LORI CARDILLE, Sarah from Day of the Dead 1985. I actually spent a lot of time talking to her and based on her interest, I gave her a copy of my book. She offered me a signed photo and wrote a beautiful note to me. Then she reached under her table and pulled out a small book, signed it, and gave it to me. It was a tale of her survival from years of abuse as a child. I did not realize until the next morning what it was when I read it. (Saturday I went back to her table and talked to her about being a survivor myself, as she hugged me she told me I was her brother and that she loved me. Yeah, I know, WAY personal, but WAY cool to me.)
SID HAIG, Captain Spaulding from House of 1000 Corpses stopped by our table and said, “You guys are a bunch of writers? I can’t even write my own fucking name!”
That evening as she waited for me to come pick her up, my wife waited outside the front of the hotel with our dog and was approached by JENNY SPAIN, Dead Girl from DeadGirl. Since I was kind of directly responsible for Jenny having received an invitation to ZomBCon, she spent some time talking to Heather before inviting her up for a glass of champagne with her and Sean Patrick Flannery. Heather said no, she was waiting for me.
Now, when Heather relayed this to me in the car, I told her, “What the hell is wrong with you?! Go! You can have dinner with me at any time!!”
I do believe that the next time this opportunity arises, I will get a text from Heather telling me to F-Off! I am having a drink with ……. And she is welcome to do so!
Saturday was even more of the same from Friday afternoon. Celebrities, fans, attendees, writers to now include IAIAN MCKINNON (ever met a Scot in a kilt, dread locks, and an amazingly outgoing personality and smile to match? NO? You should!), volunteers, great book sales, camraderie of all sorts, etc, etc, etc. SID HAIG stopped by the table several times throughout the day, typically yelling at us, “You’re writers, why aren’t you writing?!” At the end of the day he returned one more time and said, “Fuck it!” and started acting like he was writing. We asked him what he was doing and he said, “What you should be doing, writing!” We said, “Bullshit, that’s acting!” I laid back in my chair and told him, “This is is writing Sid!” He looked over at me, grinned and said, “Bullshit, this is writing”, and started acting like he was typing on a computer. All told, SID HAIG is a hell of a guy.
BILL MOSELY, Otis from The Devils Rejects walked by and I said hello to him, and told him Otis was the man! He stopped and said, “Just remember one thing, WE ARE FUCKING DEAD!!!” I personally know better than asking when a sequel to The Devils Rejects is coming. =)
JENNY SPAIN stopped by my table quickly, I got to say hello and get my picture taken with her. If you ever see the picture, I am the ugly guy standing next to the incredibly beautiful brunette. I stupidly forgot to get down to her table and get a signed blu-ray of DeadGirl from her. That’s okay, one is on the way.
As I sat there on Saturday afternoon, having the best birthday I have had in years, I hear a voice to my left, calling out to me. I turn to find JUDITH O’DEA sitting there smiling at me just before she broke out and sang Happy Birthday to me. I kid you not. Do you even have to ask if this made my day? My year?
That evening I broke away from the pack and had dinner with my wife, ROBERT ELROD and LYLE PEREZ. Thanks for dinner guys!
Later that night, all of the Permuted authors, and additional friends including the lovely ADRIAN and JONATHAN MABERRY joined us as BOWIE IBARRA hunted down enough glasses to share a toast from a 40oz bottle of Rogue Dead Guy Ale. Again, thank you BOWIE, I can’t wait for the next toast.
Sunday morning it was back to the con for more celebrities, more fans, attendees, book sales, etc. I sent out a Tweet early that morning and said that the first person that mentions my tweet gets a free copy of both of my books. Not only did the lovely TONYA grab my books, but she also bought a copy of each book available from the remaining authors at the table. Sweet!
I chose to get an autographed photo from JARLATH CONROY and ANTONE DILEO that morning, and both men were absolutely friendly and thanking me for helping make the weekend so great. As I waited for my photo with ANTONE, we talked and guess what he told me as he hugged me, thanking me for the photo, he too is a survivor. We stood there talking for several minutes before he hugged me again, and as he rubbed my head, he too told me he loved me and called me a brother. These guys are KILLING ME!
Finally it was time for the Permuted Panel at 1pm. I sold out of my books, headed to my first con panel, and had just too much fun for the next hour. JONATHAN MABERRY said afterwards that he considered it one of the best panels he has attended. Thank you my friend!
It was time to leave so I said my goodbyes to my fellow writers and friends and headed to the car. As I approached the parking garage, JUDITH O’DEA was walking towards me, we wished each other a fond farewell as she clutched my hand and said, “Thank you so much Babe, I look forward to seeing you again.” With one last injection of awesomeness, we climbed into our vehicle and headed south towards home, feeling maybe a little like we were driving away from “home” as we went.
So, that was a good part of the weekend. I am sure I left someone out, but there was something awesome happening almost every minute of every day and that would make it impossible to think of everyone and everything. Just know this, I thank you all, and hanging out with thousands of friends on my birthday made what is usually a dark and drunken day, a whole lot better.
Thank you all for such an amazing experience, see you at the next one!
Tony Faville
Zombcon 2011 is over…..
and it was an absolutely amazing experience.
With that being said, pay attention to this space for a tale of how everything went at the show, what I did, who I saw, what I sold, etc, etc.
Just know this, it was the best birthday I have had in years.
Tony
ZomBCon, Seattle, Washington October 21-23, 2011
That’s right, we are now just one week away from attending ZomBCon at the SeaTac Hilton Hotel in Seattle, Washington.
My publisher, Permuted Press, has purchased several tables for my fellow Permuted authors and myself where we will be selling and signing copies of our books.
I will have copies of Kings of the Dead, and my latest, Avery Nolan: Private Dick of the Dead, on hand for me to sign and you to purchase.
On the last day of the Con, October 23rd at 1:00pm, there will be a Permuted Press panel, which I will unfortunately not be a part of. ZomBcon decided that since the panel is only an hour long, there would only be room for four authors. So, three of the Permuted authors have been asked to sit this one out. Yeah, don’t worry, it makes no sense to me either.
Anyway, since October 22nd is my 42nd birthday, I hope you can stop by and say hello at the very least.
Thank you!
Tony Faville
Dead Island, Xbox 360, my thoughts so far
So, here is the deal, I, along with a lot of other people have been patiently waiting for Dead Island for a good, long time now. Well, it finally released this past Tuesday and I have been giving it a run through for the past several days.
My initial thoughts, until today were:
1. A lot of zombies
2. A beautifully rendered setting
3. Decent enough game play
4. Repetitive missions, get me this, find this person, get me this, and repeat
5. A lot of video glitches
6. Slow frame rate if too much going on the scene at one time
Now then, what happened today? A problem that is affecting a LOT of players, and one that should have NEVER been allowed to reach the public.
Okay, here’s the deal, you are sent with an armored truck to get it turned into a “tank”. So you drive across the island to a mechanic. Fight off the zombies, talk to the mechanic and he toughens up your truck for you.
Yeah, that is what is supposed to happen.
Here is what really happened. I make it to the workshop where the mechanic is, fight off and kill all of the zombies, and nothing happens. Let me repeat, NOTHING happens. I drove off, came back, killed the zombies that respawn, and still nothing.
I go into my options menu to take a look at things, and my buttons are not working like they should, RB is acting like B, X is taking me out of the window, etc.
Okay, so I exit the game to the Xbox dashboard, figuring it just needs a soft boot. When the game loads up, it has loaded me into an area I have not been to before, it shows the previous mission is done, I cannot continue on any further missions because nobody will talk to me and no doors will open. Oh wait, and there is my truck, in a pedestrian courtyard, and it is all screwed up (visual rendering is screwed up). That’s okay, there is my truck, again, in another area, all visually screwed up.
Since this is obviously a major flaw, I completely reboot the Xbox. Yeah, same deal, new area, not supposed to be there, can’t do anything, and my truck is screwed up.
Fortunately, this has happened to others, and so I learned that I had to find a warehouse, kill all the zombies, then activate a fast travel option from a map on the other side of the wall. Yeah, the glitches are so bad, you have to take advantage of a glitch in the glitch in order to escape from the glitch.
Geezus!
See what I meant when I said they should be ashamed that this thing made it out to the public? There is no way in hades that their beta team or their programmers were not aware of this error.
So, my opinion? Wait for the patch to come out before ever thinking about it, if at all.
Tony
Kings of the Dead, coming soon from Audible.com
Yes, you read that right, Audible.com has picked up the audio rights to Kings of the Dead and will be making it into an audio-book.
I have zero control over any aspect of the recording, all I have to do, is cash the check.
Keep your eyes and now your ears open for it in the near future.
Thanks for your ongoing support.
Tony Faville
Avery Nolan E-Book Price Drop
Due to less than stellar sales, I have decided to drop the price of Avery Nolan: Private Dick of the Dead to the too low price of .99 for the e-book version for the Amazon Kindle and Barnes and Noble Nook.
As an author, there is nothing more frustrating than having a good story that sits there, not selling for one crazy reason or another. Here’s hoping that this story does not have to sit there and languish any further with this price drop.
Thanks,
Tony Faville
Avery Nolan: Private Dick of the Dead, Now Available
That’s right, you read that correctly. Avery Nolan: PDotD is now available in most formats.
Here’s the deal, it costs $2.99 for e-books and can be found at http://tinyurl.com/ANPDotDAZ (Amazon) and http://tinyurl.com/ANPDotDAZUK (Amazon UK) for the Kindle, http://tinyurl.com/ANPDotDBN (Barnes and Noble) for the Nook, and http://tinyurl.com/ANPDotDSW (Smashwords) for multiple e-book formats.
Due to the lengthy review process over at Smashwords, I will let you know once it is available for the Apple iBooks, Kobos, Sony and Diesel e-book stores.
While the paperback has not gone live on Amazon.com yet, it can be ordered by going to this website http://tinyurl.com/ANPDotDCS (Createspace) for a cover price of $6.99. This website is actually what makes me the most in royalties. After all, that is the reason people write, is to be able to sell a product and make a little money once in awhile. We are not all out there to give our work away for free, unlike the people that undersell themselves and their work for .99. I will let you all know as soon as the paperback goes live on Amazon.
I will, as soon as I receive them, be selling signed copies for $10 shipped. Yes, it is going to be $6.99 at Amazon and Createspace, but that is before shipping. For a flat $10 you get a signed copy of the book shipped directly to your door. I will be primarily using PayPal for this, but I am also set up to take direct Credit Card payments, just email me for details.
So, there you have it, $2.99 for ebooks, $6.99 for paperbacks, $10 signed and shipped straight from me (paypal: tfaville )
What exactly is Avery Nolan: PDotD? Well, it is a novella at 37,000+ words, and is a homage to the pulp fiction/hard boiled detective dime store novels of the 1950′s and 1960′s. You get dames, KGB, FBI, zombies, broads, police, and a smoking, drinking, cussing, hard fighting private dick named Avery Nolan. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Thank you,
Tony Faville
Where is Avery Nolan?
Well, Avery Nolan: Private Dick of the Dead has been edited, formatted and covered.
In other words, he is just about ready to go.
Even though I am choosing to self-publish the title, there are still several steps in the process to help make sure I am able to provide you with the best product I can provide. As of right now, I am waiting on the review process on three of the sites I will be selling it through. Then, once the main review process is complete, I need to order a proof copy and review it for errors. If I find anything that needs fixed, then I need to fix it, order another proof, again review for errors, and then if all is well, approve the proof. 2 to 3 days after that the book should be available for purchase.
With that being said, during that time, it may become available at one or more sources as an e-book. Cool, feel free to snatch it up if you like. My intention is to wait until it is available at all sources and then make one general announcement and push instead of the typical trickle as it becomes available.
As for now, since Avery Nolan: Private Dick of the Dead is considered a novella, at 37k+ words, I will be selling the paperback at a $6.99 cover price, the e-book will be sold at $2.99, and signed copies will be available from me for a flat $10 shipped. I do ship USPS priority mail, and it winds up usually being faster and cheaper than if ordered elsewhere….plus, it’s signed! Keep your eyes on this website for details.
So, just a little bit longer and it will be available. Once it hits, I hope you folks enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Thanks,
Tony Faville
An open letter to my best friend, Jhett Blaque, Rest in Peace
Today, I said goodbye to my best friend.
When I first got you, you were only eleven months old, and at that gangly stage for a beagle pup just getting ready to cross into adulthood, much like most teenagers. Your name was Jett, and the people we got you from had bought you because you were “so cute as a puppy”, and knew nothing about beagles. You were never properly socialized, and were basically a world class spaz.
Since your primary coloring was black, including most of your face, we made a slight change to your name, Jhett Blaque, in hopes of adding a little class to you.
I don’t think it ever helped, nor did it matter to you.
You were hyper, selfish, did not like to play let alone ever take to any toys, and you were never interested in learning tricks.
Try as we might, you would never do a single trick. Until we brought home our dachshund Daisy a couple of years ago and started teaching her tricks. Man, you old sumbitch, you learned how to roll over then.
Did you ever try teaching a mini-dachshund to roll over while a selfish old beagle is rolling right over the top of her to get a treat?
You rarely listened. You barked all the time. You would crap in your crate if we took longer while out than you thought we should have taken. You loved to go on rides but would literally freak out during the ride and make it intolerable. You ate more cat shit than the cat could produce. You dug in the trash every chance you got. You would wait until I left the room and then you would get into everything. You would bark at your mom, and you even nipped at her several times over the years.
Let’s talk about your relationship with mom. You tolerated her and considered her to be second class. To the point where I could be downstairs, playing a video game or some other unimportant task and you would go upstairs to mom and let her know you needed to go outside and go to the bathroom, downstairs. She would tell you to go ask dad and you would come downstairs, look at me, then go right back upstairs and pester mom some more. She was home with a horrible flu one day, and woke up from basically being passed out to find you straddling her hip, humping her for all you were worth. You preferred mom to feed you, but would growl at her if she didn’t put your food on the floor fast enough. When she would leave the house, you would not even acknowledge the fact she was gone.
If I left home without you? God forbid. You would bay the saddest of bays you would ever hear for the first hour or so. Then you would turn into an asshole and start doing everything you know you were not allowed to do, because what was mom going to do to you?
As soon as I would return, you would simply drop your ears, rounding out your head and give me those puppy dog eyes as if to say, “What?” or “I missed you daddy!”
When I had my surgery in 2002 I actually tried talking my doctor into letting me stay one more day in the hospital because I was actually afraid that my dog was going to hurt me, simply because you will have missed me and love me so much that in your exuberance, you would unintentionally hit me in my incisions. My doctor said no and told me to go home. When I got home, mom helped me upstairs and into bed before letting you in from the garage. When she unleashed the hound, you got out of her grasp and made a beeline upstairs, and all of a sudden hit the brakes at the bedroom door.
You stopped, and you looked at me on the bed, and laid down with your head between your paws, with the saddest look on your face I had ever seen.
Mom made it upstairs before I could coax you up on the bed. When you finally did, I could not even feel him get on the bed you did it so gently. You stopped at my feet, sat down and looked up at me. I told you to come see me, and you low crawled up the bed beside my body, sniffing as you went. As you approached my tummy, you stopped, and went back and forth from looking at me, to sniffing my bandages.
You never did anything to hurt me.
As “stupid” as you were, I could tell that you knew there was something wrong with me.
In the list of most important things you ever gave me, was unbridled unconditional love. No matter what my mood was, I always knew you would be there to snuggle up with me, or up against mom, so you could look at me. Yeah, seriously, you would lay with her, but watch me without blinking, scared to death I would disappear.
I remember a business trip I had to take to St. Louis several years ago. I was gone for three or four days, and came home before mom was off work. I came into the house and found you on the couch. Your head shot up and you looked at me, and then you melted off the front of the couch onto the floor and pissed himself. Daddy was home.
During the time we had you, it was a very difficult time for me and the relationship, or lack thereof, I have with my daughter. She hated me, she did not want to spend time with me, she wanted me to change who I am as a human being, and to this day she still feels that way. Fifteen plus years of that behavior is not just a phase someone will eventually grow out of.
Meanwhile, you looked upon me like I was the greatest thing since sliced bread. You looked at me with the looks I so desperately desired to get from my daughter but never have.
Yes Jhett Blaque, you were a royal pain in the ass in more ways than one, but you loved me.
For that, you will always be with me and I will be eternally grateful for the love you gave, without ever asking for anything in return.
I love you buddy.
May you rest in peace,
Daddy
P.S. I am sure in your special way, you loved your little sister, because I know she loved you.
Avery Nolan: PDotD is done!
Yes, you read that correctly, I have finished Avery Nolan: Private Dick of the Dead and have sent him off to my editor.
Cover art is currently being worked on, and once it is edited, then I will have some minor formatting work to do before I can get it online and for sale.
It will be available in paperback and ebook, and as of right now I am thinking the pricing will be $5.99 and $2.99 respectively.
There will also be a very limited run of hardback copies for the people that helped fund the project.
For those of you just hearing about Avery Nolan, it is my homage to the Pulp Fiction / Hard Boiled Detective dime store books from the late 1950′s and 1960′s. With that in mind, it is NOT a full size novel, but would be considered more along the lines of a novella at around 31-32k words. I never set out to make it anything more than it is, and for me, I am very happy with the end results.
Look for announcements of availability soon.
Thank you,
Tony Faville
New Interview by Nicole Ireland
A new interview has been posted over at http://nicoleireland.com/2011/06/07/an-interview-with-kings-of-the-dead-author-tony-faville/
Nicole actually came up with some new questions, and it was a pleasure being able to answer them for her.
If you do not know who Nicole Ireland, she is the author of A Second Chance, which is a wonderful short story available over at http://www.amazon.com/A-Second-Chance-ebook/dp/B004WG5L66/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1307564104&sr=8-2
Thanks Nicole!
Tony
Thank You!
Just a quick note to my backers to let them know the process of my project and what I have been able to accomplish with your backing.
I have acquired a replacement computer, I went with a used iMac that I was able to find on Craigslist for more than $400 under typical resale value. This particular iMac has double to memory and double the hard drive space it originally came with, and is still covered by the factory warranty, at least for a few more months.
I have downloaded Scrivener and gone through the process of porting my existing work into the application, did some rewrites, and worked on a new chapter for a little bit last night. Everything is working beautifully, and I am excited to be able to get back to work on the project.
Avery Nolan: Private Dick of the Dead is coming along nicely, and those people who have been able to read the first four chapters of rough draft love where I am going, and what I have done so far. My plan is to have it finished by the middle of June and send it off to the editor. Once she slashes through it with her red pen, then I will finalize the edits and rough draft. That should take us close to the end of June, which means the cover art should either be done, or be very close to done.
If all goes well, the final product should be available by mid-July, with a solid emphasis on should.
Again, thank you for your support, it is truly appreciated.
Tony Faville
A New Project, And A Rare Request For Help
Okay, while most of you only know my online presence, there are some of you that actually know me. Those who truly know me, will tell you that I am the same person whether online or offline. They will also tell you that I am the first person to offer my hand when someone needs help, and unfortunately also the first person to decline help when it is offered to me.
Well, I am needing help, and I am going against my nature by asking for help.
As you know, my book Kings of the Dead has been published by Permuted Press, and that is absolutely awesome. What it also means, is that the money I was making monthly from being self published has stopped. A sudden loss of a few hundred dollars a month has left it’s mark on the Faville household. Add in the loss of $2400 of overtime this year, and a chronic shortage of hours at work, and that mark starts to bleed. Now if I were to add in the fact that my writing tool died on me, I have an old friend (my 13 year old beagle) that needs put down, and a couple of necessary trips this year, and that bleeding turns into a full bore hemorrhage.
The surefire way to stop that hemorrhage is to get another self-published book out there in the market and start making some money. It takes money to make money though. I need to pay my editor, pay a cover artist, and a trustworthy way to write the piece of work.
I have a story started, and I am a solid four chapters in to it as I type this. Tentatively titled Avery Nolan: Private Dick of the Dead. Set in the late 1950′s in New York City, Avery Nolan is a Private Investigator hired to find a missing research scientist. What he uncovers is a Cold War inspire plot to destroy the USA from the inside with the Living Dead.
Where is my rambling headed? Well, this is where you come in, I need funding to make this all happen. If you go to http://www.indiegogo.com/Avery-Nolan-Private-Dick-of-the-Dead you will find my indiegogo page for the project where you can make a donation. There are perks, as you will see on the project page, for your donation. I can assure you, your money will not be used to take myself out to dinner, buy an expensive bottle of wine, or any crap like that. Any money will be put to use in order to get this project out the door and into the marketplace.
I thank you for your time and consideration in this matter.
Tony Faville
Texas Frightmare Weekend 2011 is over…
Yes, the weekend has come and gone, and before the memories begin to fade, here are some of my thoughts and memories of the things that took place:
*As I checked into the hotel I glanced to my left, and had to do another take, Robert Englund was checking in at the same time.
*Sitting in the restaurant at the hotel eating with friends, I looked up and said, “Oh shit, it’s Malcolm McDowell!”, then looked left and said, “Hey, it’s that guy from 90210, Brian something. Uh, oh yeah, Brian Austin Green.”
*Shiner Bock beer is good.
*Ya’ll ain’t never had Texas BBQ until you have eaten at Sonny Bryan’s. And all this time I thought I made a good brisket. Now comes the quest to recreate.
*Mexican food is different than it is up here. Oh, and it’s damn good. And no, it was not Tex-Mex, this was pure Mex.
*There are a bajillion different ways to show off your boobs.
*Horror Fans are the greatest fans in the world, nobody else is more dedicated.
*I got to meet Don Coscarelli (Phantasm, Bubba Ho Tep), and give him a copy of my book. He is a HUGE fan of my publisher, Permuted Press, and considers them to be The Gatekeepers of the zombie genre. And yes, I did give him a copy of my card when he asked for one.
*Took a trip to Dealey Plaza to pay our respects to a major US historical landmark. Thanks to the scumbag drunk for tainting the experience. I am sure over the years, the legend of the trip will morph into we killed him and buried him on the grassy knoll. Jackass.
*Cracker Barrel is still a great breakfast.
*Finding out my publisher was there when last I heard he was not going was freaking cool!
*All told, getting to meet the following people was cool: Neil Blankenship – yeah, we met before-shut up-it’s my blog, Lyle Perez – writer, Robert and Laura Best – writer, Felicia and her husband Victor- editor along with her newlywed husband, Rhiannon Frater – writer, David Snell – writer, Jacob Kier – publisher (mine), Ken Harrelson, his wife, and their friend Mike – filmmaker, Joel Walker and his daughter KK – Doctor, awesome father, pocasting superstars, Kody Boye – writer, Unoshato (Patrick), and a few other people.
*People are friendly in Texas
*They drive like the devil is chasing them in Texas
*It’s humid in Texas
*Wear more comfortable shoes to the next con.
*Oh yes, there will be a next con.
*I miss Shirley. (Neil and Lyle will understand).
*Flying is tiring.
*When a woman says that you look familiar, sit on her lap until she recognizes you. What?!
*Just because an insanely hot woman on the elevator makes the following comment: “I am just the girlfriend, I am only good for blowjobs.” Yeah, try to remember she’s not meaning you, and hope you remembered your blood pressure medicine. I did on both accounts, a weaker man would have failed.
*Sleep is for the old and infirm. That must be why I am so damn tired.
All said, I had a great time at my first con and hope to do another one soon. Well, there is Horror Realm in September, Zombcon in October…..
Buyer Beware or Satisfaction Guaranteed?
There is currently a small handful of posts over on the amazon.com forums in a thread titled Best Zombie Novels On Kindle.
This was the first one that caught my eye: “I did download your book and started to read it. Sorry, not for me. Kindly, Amazon refunded my purchase price. “
Next up: “does amazon have a satisfaction guarantee? If so, I wish I had been irritated enough to seek compensation for some of the truly horrendous books I’ve unfortunately purchased”
Followed by: “How do we get refunds for the stinkers we buy?”
One poster finally proceeds to give details in regards to what it takes in order to get a refund for books they do not like. In all fairness to this poster, she does say that she has only done it one time.
My concern, as a writer, is that it stings, and sucks at the same time. Should books have a Satisfaction Guaranteed, or should they be Buyer Beware.
Consider this scenario: You walk in to Best Buy, or wherever you buy your movies, buy a movie because you heard it was good, take it home, open it up, watch the movie, decide it sucks, and try taking it back to Best Buy because you did not like the movie. What will the response be? Sorry you did not like it, but you have opened it and watched it. No refund will be given.
Another scenario: You go to see the latest blockbuster movie at your local cinema to see the movie all the critics are raving about. Here is the kicker, the movie stinks (big surprise). You decide to go to the manager and demand your money back because you did not like the movie. Guess what he says with a smile that tells you that you have been smoking something, “No!”
Why should a person be able to read a book, decide they did not like it, and get their money back? In my humble opinion, the time frame for returning a kindle book for a refund is already WAY too big. It is several days, not just a “Oh crap, I accidentally bought this book, I want my money back” window, but a full blown “I had enough time to read the book, decide I don’t like it, I want my money back!”
Am I wrong in thinking that the practice of returning an e-book because you did not like it after reading it, is wrong? I would love to hear the thoughts and opinions of both readers and writers.
Thank you,
Tony
Book Signing, Powells Books-Cedar Hills Beaverton, Oregon
Just received confirmation from Powells Books that I have been scheduled for a book signing event at their Cedar Hills location ( 3415 SW Cedar Hills Blvd.
Beaverton, OR 97005) in Beaverton, Oregon on July 28, 2011 at 7pm.
I will be doing a reading from Kings of the Dead, any suggestions for what chapter I should read are welcome, a Q/A session, and then book signing.
Obviously, anyone in the area is welcome to attend.
Me, nervous? =)
Thanks,
Tony
The Last Supper
So, as you may recall, I put out a request recently for guest posts in regards to playing an old Chefs game related to “What would your last supper be and who would you like to be there as your guests?” While I did not receive as many responses as I hoped, the responses I did get were wonderful, and inspiring.
Please, sit back, relax, enjoy the read, and if you decide you would like to “play along” feel free to leave a comment.
Thank you,
Tony
Eric Lowther
Ohio
Hmm, let’s see;
Dinner would of course be at least a 16 oz london broil so rare the cow it came from would be able to feel my teeth ripping through its flesh. Oh, and roasted potatos, heavy on the garlic and pepper with thick, red beer on the side. Nothing else from the garden, and no pussy salad course, either.
My guests?
William Shakespeare, not because of his work but because history says he was a fun drunk.
George Romero, so I could tell him how much his work has meant to me and my writing and then to ask him just what the fuck he was thinking with the horseriding bullshit before I left this mortal coil.
Charlie Sheen, so I could tell him to just shut the fuck up, already.
Stephen King because, fuck, it’s Stephen King.
Prince, because he’s a vegetarian and would be flipping out at all these people eating bloody steaks. Also, it would ensure there was a steak left over in case I wanted dessert.
As a bonus, if I could choose the waiter for the evening it would be President Obama, because for fuck’s sake I’d like to see the man actually accomplish something…
Thanks
Eric R Lowther
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Shaun Phelan
Engineer
Malta
Ok. First of all I would have Julian Bream sitting in the corner playing his classical guitar. I would also like to see one of my neighbours there(she’s gorgeous!), pole dancing whilst very scantily dressed. I would like one long side of the rectangular table to myself. Sitting directly opposite me would be Einstein and I could talk to him about gravity, energy and the wonders of physics. Sitting to his right would be the CEO of a leading insurance company, crying and groveling on his knees as he apologized for his sins against mankind. Sitting to Einsteins’ left would be Sir Issac Newton. The insurance man would be ashamedly quiet as we conversed, listened to the music and watched my gorgeous neighbour pole dancing! 
The menu would be: A poached egg on toast followed by spags al Shaun followed by a medium rare fillet steak with chips and peas and English mustard. All with a good bottle of red wine. Yep. That sounds about right to me!
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Heather Faville
Portland, Oregon
La mia ultima cena, or my last supper….when Tony put out the call for guest post to reflect on what they would have as their very last meal and who would be with them to partake. I had so many various foods and people flying through my head that I didn’t think I could ever be able break it down to just one meal with 5 people. Then I stopped and started truly reflecting on some of the best meals I’ve ever had and either who I was with or who I would like to have with me to experience.
The location of my last meal is by no means difficult for anyone to figure out if they know me…Venice, Italy. Outside on a warm spring/fall early evening watching gondola’s pass by on the Grand Canal, listening to the string quartet down the street and enjoying the company of my family. Yes, I could pick absolutely anyone to share my last meal with and, maybe, if it were not my last meal I would have done so, but the last supper is special and should be spent with those you care about and who care about you.
Sitting with me, in this serene and romantic city to enjoy the final meal I have on this Earth is my mother, Debbie, she and I got through some rough times the only way we knew how…together. Joining us is my grandmother, Margaret, my grandfather, Oscar and my great-grandmother, June. My grandfather and great-grandmother both passed away when I was two-years old and I really would have liked to have gotten to know them. I have always been told that my great-gramma June would have loved me and…well, I’d like to see if that’s true. My mom and I lived with my gramma Margaret until her passing in 1985 and she was an amazing woman. I still miss her and have always wished that she could have met Tony…I truly think she would have liked him. The last, of course, is my husband, Tony. Having him in my life has opened my eyes to so many new experiences that I probably would have never experienced on my own.
In the Italian tradition, my final meal is divided into four courses, our antipasto will consist of acchiuge al limone (anchovies marinated in lemon) from Gambero di Rosso in Vernazza, Italy and a pizza margherita con mozzarella di bufalo from Le Botteghe di Donatello in Florence, Italy. The first course comes, again, from Le Botteghe di Donatello, raviolio con speck e formaggio e tartufo crema (ravioli with speck, cheese in a truffle cream sauce). Oh MIO DIO! Our second course consists of Braciola con sugo di ZaZa (beef fillet with ZaZa sauce) from Trattoria ZaZa in Florence, Italy. Of course, our meal is also accompained by some of the most amazing wines Italy has to offer. I cannot allow my husband, a trained pastry chef to be completely let off the hook in this dining experience, so chocolate eclairs a la Tony Faville will be added to our dessert menu, as well as my grandma’s warm apple pie with a slice of cheese on it. It may not be the best pie in the world, but it was my grandma’s and it was wonderful. With cheese you ask? Gramma always said, “Apple pie without cheese is like a kiss without a squeeze” and you don’t argue with gramma. How, you may ask, do you end such a exquisite meal with your family? A Venetian Hot Chocolate from Caffe Florian, Venice, Italy.
Now, can someone loan me a small fortune to go to Italy…I’m hungry.
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Last Meal
Lyle Perez-Tinics
Writer
When I hear the words last meal, I must think about what that means. Am I a Death Row inmate who’s going to be executed at 12:00AM? Last meal, as in, there’s no more food left in the world? Are our bodies not going to be able to digest food again after this meal?
There are a ton of questions to think about when someone decides on their last meal. But not me. If I was a Death Row inmate I would live the rest of my life in the same mind set as I have now. I’m going to mess around with the guards and inmates; I’ll either make them laugh or they’ll kick my ass. I don’t know if any of you have seen me, but I won’t last for shit in prison. I’d probably be someone’s bitch just for their protection. But that’s for an entirely different subject. Now that I’ve gone off topic, let me re-read the question.
Ok, so last meal and what five people would I want to share it with. That’s easy. Here in Southern California we have a fast food place called Del Taco. Now, DT is something like Taco Bell, but I think its better. Their crunchy tacos and quesadillas are much tastier than TB. DT also offers Chili Cheddar Fries which are awesome (when the cooks gets them right!) Sometimes, they just put a table spoon of chili and other times, they really pack it in. I’ve learned that if you eat in the dinning area, they really pour on the chili, but if you go through the drive-thru they jip you… fuckers. I’m always on the go-go so I don’t have time to stop inside and flirt with the girl, or guy (I have no shame) to get more chili on my freaking fries.
My last meal will be huge, not because I’m a pig (which I am) but, I’ll be sharing. When the guards ask me to write down my last meal this is what it will say.
“I want you to go to Del Taco. Not the drive-thru, but go inside. Get me 6 orders of deluxe chili fries, 30 crunch tacos, 10 quesadillas (spicy jack NOT cheddar) and 6 of their Macho sized Cokes. Tell the worker to give you an entire case of the Del Scorcho hot sauce. Leave a dollar in their tip jar, say it’s from me, give them a wink and drive away.”
That should be enough food to feed me and my five guests.
Who would I share my deliciously Del Taco food with? I will totally go Bill & Ted style with this and travel through time to nab, Napoleon, Socrates, Billy El Niño (because we’re eating Mexican food, sort of) Beethoven and Abraham Lincoln. That’s my set up. We’ll sit around the table and eat Del Taco. Of course, I’d like to get their thoughts on what the people of today eat versus the crap they eat. They’d all probably get diarrhea or Burning Asshole syndrome from all the Scorcho, but man, what a last meal that would be.
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Brad Zipprich
Writer, Podcaster, Master of the Internet
Illinois
The news reports rolled in this morning and it seems that the Earth is going to be destroyed for some reason. It was really hard to get the real reason behind why this is going to happen though. There was one newscaster that mentioned there was an interstellar Highway going through but most people didn’t believe that. Someone else mentioned a black hole was forming in Switzerland. Another scientist said there was some probe orbiting the Earth that was trying to talk to the whales. Everyone was sure the world would end by tomorrow morning so it was time to go out and eat.
Lunch would start with a the family and a Cuban sandwich after which I would stick around the Columbia Restaurant in Ybor City, FL for a last dinner. Sure, I haven’t been there in about 10 years since I moved out of state but this place is one of the best restaurants that I have eaten at. But what to order on this night and who should I invite? Let’s start with the food first why don’t we.
This meal starts off with a house salad that even has its own name, the 1905 Salad. It is made with iceberg lettuce, julienne of baked ham, natural Swiss cheese, tomato, olives, grated Romano cheese and their famous 100 year old family recipe dressing made with fresh garlic, oregano, wine vinegar and Spanish extra virgin olive oil. Yeah, sounds good doesn’t it.
For the main course we are going all out with one of the best dishes I have ever had, the Paella A la Valenci. This dish is amazing and flavor explodes with each bit you take. I really can’t say enough about it. It has been 10 years since I was last there and the thought of having it again just makes my mouth water.
Prepared in a traditional paella pan, it features clams, mussels, shrimp, scallops, calamares, chicken and pork, baked with Valencia rice, extra virgin olive oil, green peppers, Spanish onions, ripe tomatoes, garlic, spices and splashed with white wine. I know, sounds great right!
As for the guest list, well this didn’t take me long but it did take a bit of effort to narrow it down to five people.
First up we have George Noory. For those of you who don’t know him, George is the week night host on Coast to Coast AM which is a late night radio talk show that deals with everything from pseudoscientific subject to conspiracy theories to everything in between. George has talked about almost every subject you can think of and he might have an answer or idea for any of those lingering questions I might have.
Next up we have Michio Kaku. This guy is a genius. His papers on string theory make my head hurt but he still has the ability to explain it in ways that actually make sense for those of us not schooled in physics. His books are a must read for anyone venturing into the science fiction side of writing or just for anyone who wants to know more about the world we live in. There’s a reason why this guy is always on the Science Channel.
The other person I would love to have in the room with Michio Kaku would be the Doctor. No, not just some random doctor, I am talking about The Doctor. To hear the TARDIS as it comes into the room would just be priceless. You also have someone who has seen things that most people could never even imagine while traveling across the universe and throughout time. Hey you never know, maybe I could hop a ride and have a look around as well. It is a time machine after all so the last dinner would still be there when we got back.
Next up is another person who has been to places that we mere mortals couldn’t comprehend seeing, Sun Wukong the Monkey King. Okay so he’s a monkey who was born from a stone and acquired supernatural powers through Taoist practices but who’s is going to hold that against him. Sure he has a god complex at times but if you wiped your name out of the “Book of Life and Death” and single handedly defeated the Army of Heaven’s 100,000 celestial warriors…well you would as well. Not only that but he knows how to have a good time.
I read Journey to the West twice now, that is not small feats either as there are almost 4,000 pages in all the volumes. This is a book I would recommend for some people but not everyone. The English translation misses a few thing occasionally.
Last up to the table is a man that inspired me since I was a youngin, Sir Arthur C Clarke. Having read most of his books I would love to have a chance to chat with him. This is a man who had and continues to have a huge influence on science fiction literature. While reading his books you can literally see what the future might bring us. One of his books, Songs of Distance Earth is where I discovered the name Mirissa and gave that name to my eldest.
A funny thing happened while I was having dinner with everyone. I was asked why I write horror given the background of all the people that I invited to dinner. You would think it would be more in the science fiction genre. My answer was a simple, I don’t know, maybe my time as a science fiction writer just hasn’t come yet.
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Nicole Ireland
Writer
Maine
When Tony asked for guest blog posts on what others would have for a last meal and who they would share it with, I was instantly intrigued and wanted to share my thoughts.
My choice for a last meal would be a Maine wild game dinner cooked by Chef Sebastian Carosi. Last summer, my father, daughter and I went and had dinner at a local farm that was taking part in the New England Farm 2 Fork Project. Our meal consisted of venison medallions, thin-sliced moose meat, bear chimichangas, multi-grain organic rolls, chocolate cake with rose hip syrup and an apple cider drink made fresh on the farm. We even had fried cattail pieces, a first for both of us. (You can find the actual menu on my website, here. WARNING: It will cause drooling and massive tummy rumbling.)
To say this meal was memorable would be an understatement. It was truly a one of a kind experience that I will never forget. (Although, we were lucky and were asked to come back for a second night on the house, but that was not the norm for most people.)
So if given the opportunity, that’s what my last meal would be.
As for who I would have at my table, generally I would say my family because they mean so much to me, but if I had to pick five people outside of them, they would be:
Stephen King – You can’t grow up in the state of Maine and not know who Stephen King is. When I think of a career I’d like to emulate, his wins hands down. Not only has he inspired me with his words, but with his generosity, as well. The town I live in has directly benefited from his and his wife’s kind hearts. So if I could share my last meal with him, I’d be honored. And in awe.
Victoria Rowell – I grew up staring at a photo of Victoria on my elementary school wall. Not many people know this, but she lived with a foster family in the town I grew up in. As an adult, she sent our school a letter and photo, which was hung on the entryway wall for all to see. Her photo and story helped me to realize that it doesn’t matter where I come from, I can still be or do anything that I want as long as I’m willing to work hard and not give up.
Edward James Olmos – I think Edward James Olmos is an incredibly talented actor, as well as an amazing and inspiring humanitarian. He teaches others to stand up for what they believe in, even if that means standing alone. He truly epitomizes what it means to be selfless. I would honestly love the chance to sit and talk with him about all he’s accomplished in life. I think I would honestly come away from a talk like that a changed person.
Darken Rahl – Everyone has their favorite villain, and mine is Darken Rahl from the Sword of Truth series, written by Terry Goodkind. Although, I have to say I would prefer the television incarnation of him because actor Craig Parker brought the character of Darken Rahl to life. I loved to hate him, and I’m truly sad to see that Legend of the Seeker was not picked up for a third season. (I still hold out hope that someone will decide to save it, but I know in my heart that the chances are slim to none.) So if I could sit and listen to his tale, and I’m sure there’s more to it, I’d be thrilled….as long as he didn’t try to turn me into a Mord’Sith.
Kahlan Amnell – Kahlan is another character from the Sword of Truth series. So many female characters are one dimensional and weak. Kahlan is none of those things. She’s strong. She’s empowered. She’s thoughtful, kindhearted, determined and intelligent. She’s also fiercely independent and firm when needed. All of these traits I find admirable. I think she would be a great person to sit and talk to and learn from, so I think she would be the perfect person/character to round out my dinner table.
Happy eating!
************
Lisa Kelly
Teacher
Vancouver, Washington
My favorite meal? One shared with good friends and where time didn’t matter. So often these days I find myself running so fast from one thing to another, I’m grabbing a meal on the fly. Rarely do we sit down and share a meal together.
What five people would I choose to share this very special meal with me? Whenever I think of a fine meal, I think of my great aunt. My grandfather’s sister, she was small where he was tall. Where he was bald, she had glorious red hair. When his temper flared, she stayed calm. As a jeweler, she dressed impeccably, even when she was retired. Every table setting at her house had real plates, silver flatware, and stemware. Everything matched – on purpose. She said, “If you’re going to go to the effort of having people over and spending hours in the kitchen on your feet, you need to do it right because people like knowing you’ve made a fuss over them.” Auntie loved to have a bite and “catch up”.
In addition to my Aunt Lucille, I would add my friend Tammy. Tammy and I met in the biology lab when we were undergrads and became fast friends. Having been through literal hell and back together over the past 17 years, she is the sort of person to offer you the last piece of toast in her kitchen, the last teabag for your sanity, or the last drink of her vodka. We have shared many a pauper’s meal as well as that fit for a king. This dear lady always has something to discuss, an opinion to offer, and is at ease visiting with anyone. Not to mention, her laugh is infectious.
The third person I would invite would be my friend Gwen, also a good friend of my husband. Always on the move, her family and children have become dear to me. We seldom get a chance for “adult time”. She has blossomed so over the past few years, I am thrilled she has come into her own. A lovely lady and science fiction fan, she would love this dinner.
I would invite science fiction author Leo Frankowski for I am a great fan of the Sir Conrad Stargard series. How an author can recreate the world in primitive conditions and then fight the Mongols to win is beyond me. His characters were so vivid, the books totally transported you into another time and space. Inviting Frankowski would of course mean that I would also have to invite my husband, for any cool sci-fi author I meet, he has to meet as well. Also, he was the one who introduced me to the series.
The setting would be a late summer afternoon, a lovely back yard or pasture with a tree canopy or a lovely summer patio with table, chairs, lounges, and a table for food. Dinner would begin with cocktail hour; with liquor and wine available. Vintage jazz would be playing in the background. Appetizers of fresh fruit, canopes, olives, cheese and crackers and other finger foods would be available.
The first course would be a lovely summer garden salad of mixed greens, goat cheese, apples, radishes, a few walnuts, tomatoes, etc. lightly dressed in lemon juice, olive oil and a bit of salt and pepper. Slices of fresh bread with olive oil and balsamic would nicely compliment.
The main course would feature a summer offering of grilled veggies: peppers, onion, portobellos, possibly a few pineapples, and nicely seasoned beef, chicken, and lamb. Grilled bread, my special corn and black bean salad, fresh grilled garlic green beans from the garden, and corn on the cob. New potatoes and peas, sliced tomatoes, and other fresh veggies would be offered as well
Auntie would insist on bringing something sweet, so dessert would be her wartime cherries jubilee recipe with fresh fruit and berries with angel food cake or low-sugar ice cream for the diabetic crowd.
There would be no thought given to calories, for any consumed would be burned off with laughter and dancing. We would toast the sunset and talk into the evening. It would be a treasured day, one made more special by the friends and family who shared it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
You know, this was quite telling – both by who was invited and who was NOT. The more I think about it, the more I really want to do something like this. I would not be able to physically invite my Auntie, for she’s been gone for almost 18 years and I seriously doubt Leo Frankowski would join a stranger for a summer supper. However, a celebration like this would be perfect around my graduation this summer. I do believe it could happen.
Thanks for making me think.
************
Ed Russell
Indiana
A final meal seems like a fun idea until you actually have to choose one. I find myself in that situation now on a lessor level. I am going to take the P90X challenge and intend to follow the nutrition guidelines as closely as possible. I will start this coming Monday and that means this Friday is my last meal with no restraints or calories or giving a fig about its effect on my body. After spending a few days I have decided that I want my final meal to be an American staple. I want a Cheeseburger with all the fixings and a plate full of chili cheese fries. The burger itself will be cooked to medium well and have a jalapeno and pepper-jack cheese filling. On the burger I want pickles, tomato, and bacon. Everything is better with bacon. The bun will be lightly toasted with a slathering of chipotle sauce. And I want a big burger that takes both hands to hold.
The fries will be long and thick and crinkle cut. They will be cooked to a golden brown and just a little crunchy on the outside. They will be on a large platter and smothered in chili and cheddar cheese and more jalapenos because I want to have to pay for this for days to come.
As for my guests I decided that I wanted to keep it light and festive just as a backyard grill should be. I would have the crew members from Firefly keep me company. Mal, Zoe, Wash, Kaylee,and Jayne. I think we would have a great time and you just know something crazy would happen.
I would also be sure and not wear a red shirt.
************
And of course I planned on playing along.
For my last dinner on earth, whether it be from cosmic interference or my own mortality, I would love to be able to have the ability to transport myself and my dinner guests to my chosen locations at will. There is nothing better than the finest food than when it is as fresh as you can get.
I would start my evening with Hors d’ourves while in the original Library of Alexandria. This round would consist of a cheese plate consisting of the following cheeses from around the world Tallegio, Comte, Blue Stilton and Extra Sharp Premium White Cheddar from Tillamook Dairy in Oregon. This would be accompanied by an authentic French Baguette and a bottle of 2004 Raya Jade Syrah from the Cottonwood Winery in Oregon.
For appetizers I would start by whisking us first to the coast of Maine where we would enjoy a Maine Lobster Roll Slider. Next, we would travel to the coast of Washington for a Willapa Bay Oyster on the half shell. From there we would head straight across the sea for a visit to Vernazza, Italy for our last appetizer for the evening, a plate of Acciughe al Limone (anchovies in lemon juice).
Arriving in Milan, Italy for our first course we would find ourselves seated at Califuria Unione Ristorante where I would highly suggest we all have their Risotto alla Parmigiana.
Next we would take a trip to the south to Za-Za’s Trattoria in Florence, Italy for our second course. This would be a Bistecca alla Fiorentina from actual Val de Chiana stock. The last time I had this it was a 750gm cut of meat that had been seasoned with olive oil, salt and pepper before being waved in front of the fire for no more than a couple of minutes each side. Trust me, you don’t know steak until you have had this steak. And for any restaurant that says they serve and authentic Florentine Steak, you can go straight to hell for lying.
A quick shot of Limoncello and we would be off to Casin dei Nobili in the Dorsoduro District of Venice, Italy for my favorite dessert out of all possible choices, Tiramisu.
After dessert I would take us back to Vernazza, Italy one more time where we would take a table in the middle of the small town square where we would sit, talk, and drink Sciacchetra throughout the night, watching the anchovy fishermen go out only to return before sunrise with their catches.
Since this dinner comes at a cost, it must surely have it’s limitations and my time comes to an end with the sunrise. Since I never backed down from a fight, at this time I would take my wife and say good by to my family and friends and find that special place on earth that always sits just before the magic hour so I will hopefully never have to let go.
As for who my dinner guests for this evening would be, they are as follows:
My wife, Heather Faville – She has been with me every day for the past several years and there is no way I would not have her with me on my last evening on earth.
Brad Conn – He was a farm boy, a US Marine, a volunteer firefighter, a Sheriff’s Deputy, an amateur geologist, avid hiker, a great Uncle, the best man I have ever known, and a bigger part of who I am as a person today than my own father. And I would give anything to sit down with him one last time.
Ashley Evans – My daughter, just so she can have one last chance to see me for who I am and not the person her mother told her I am.
United States Navy Hospital Corps and the United States Marine Corps – Any and all of my brothers would be welcome to join me for one last drink.
Marvin Burke – My Godfather, because he was killed by a pair of assholes before I ever got a chance to really know him.
Guest Post from lgsmith: The Heat Wave at West Port
I found myself speeding down the interstate toward the city of West Port one sunny autumn day. West Port was a small city located on the coast of Virginia, its name coming from the fact that it was founded as the western port for Craft Shipping back in 1730. It grew up around shipping and turned into a decent sized city by the beginnings of the 1900s. However it suffered a fatal blow during the great depression, with many of the companies using the port going under, what happened to the Craft family is a different story and their loss to the city all but destroyed the city’s shipping business. It saw brief revitalization during World War II, but now it was in a steady decline and largely the recipient of various government programs. A good third of the buildings in the city were deserted or given over to the gangs that ran unchecked. A few companies still use the port, but most choose to use newer and better-maintained facilities. A few factories also added to the city’s economy, but they also added massive pollution to the area, with local officials afraid to step in for fear of losing one of the last few businesses in the city.
It was the middle of October and I was enjoying the fall break from the University. I had planned on visiting my parents during the break, but an urgent plea from Alan Gills had changed my plans. It also spared me from my mother’s plea to enter a real field of study.
I had met Alan when he was taking a few night classes at MSU. Alan was doing an internship in Boston and was making the long trek to take a few classes at the University. Unlike myself, he had the good sense to conceal his interest in the field and by taking classes at a university other than the one he was getting his degree in, spared him from being labeled a freak.
Thus, when Alan got his degree he was able to get a job in main stream society, while I was doomed to the small part of society that did not label me as a crackpot, like my mother had.
While it was not the most glamorous field in the world, there was nothing more exciting than Parapsychology, though the X-Files had certainly brought some new blood to the field. Not that I was complaining, it just would be nice if there were more than a half a dozen places in the country where I could get employed, and forget about getting grants for studies, which explained my fifteen year old car.
Now Alan had the gig, he was on the staff at West Port’s Hand of the Maiden Hospital and drove a nice little sports car. He still kept up with me and still did a little research into the unknown on the side, but he was able to do it discreetly and thus was still considered a ‘Professional’.
He had called me the day before, sounding drawn out and agitated. It seems that he had stumbled upon something and wanted me to fly down that day and help him out on it. When I had informed him that I had planned to visit my parents, he go downright distraught and insisted that it was desperate. I tried to get what was wrong out of him, but Alan had used some uncharacteristic language and told me that only a fool would discuss it over the phone. I relented and promised to drive down first thing in the morning, saying I preferred to take in the scenery on the way down rather than admit I could not afford the airfare.
So thus, on a late Monday afternoon, I was approaching the exit that would lead to West Port. I found myself trying to increase my old car’s AC again and discovered it was already on max. It was not the best in the world, but it should still be able to handle an autumn afternoon. Then, I remembered that the area had been suffering from an uncharacteristically warm spell. I had checked the weather on the news before I left, and they had said that meteorologists were still at a lose to explain the heat and dry spell that had accompanied it, but I did not notice what they said the highs were going to be. I swore that it felt close to a hundred, but that was impossible for this time of the year, even with a warm fall.
As I speed down the road leading to West Port I shuttered at the affect the weather had upon the countryside. I had visited Alan at the beginning of the summer and while the city itself was quite spoiled with the effect smoke and other pollutants have had hanging over the city, the surrounding area was still quite nice. The one advantage of the city doing so poorly was that developers had never touched the countryside. Now everything was so dried up and brown that it almost appeared black. The trees were completely bare and several had entire sides collapsed down from the weight of the dead limbs. The ground was cracked and broken with little sign of the grass that had covered it earlier this year. It looked more like the areas of Africa that had suffered droughts for years on end.
The scenery just got worse as I entered the town. I passed several cars that had overheated as I entered the city limits, and passed several more that had been abandoned for some time, apparently the local police had better things to do. I saw several police cars pulled to the side of the road surrounding a building, but I did not pause to find out why.
It was mid-afternoon when I pulled into the hospital’s parking lot. As I got out of the car, a wave of heat blasted me. I rushed to through the main doors to escape it, but like my poor old car, the hospital offered little in the
way of relief from the heat.
The main lobby of the hospital seemed filled to the rim with people, most appeared to be sick. As I entered the elevator I turned to an orderly. “What is with the lobby, is your emergency room closed?”
“Full more like it, everyday it seems more idiots give themselves heatstroke, there are not enough room in the emergency room for them all, so we put the overflow into the main lobby.” He replied and with disgust added. “Should just let them stew out in the heat, they don’t have the sense to stay out of it.”
Some bedside manner, I thought as I exit the elevator and headed toward Allen’s office.
Even before I opened the door to his office, I could hear Allen’s secretary yelling.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about your condition and what progress your losing. Just handle it and find someone else!” Followed by the sound of the receiver slamming down.
I carefully opened the door and looked in.
“What do you want!” Her voice assaulted me. A pale, thin and haggard woman deep in the grip of her forties looked up toward me with aggravation at my dared intrusion into her domain.
“Well!” She demanded before I even got a chance to reply.
“I’m here to see…” Suddenly I placed the face. A year ago I had met Janet, Allen’s secretary, a pleasant, slightly overweight woman in her thirties. The image that greeted me was a pale imitation of that woman.
“Janet is that you?’ I asked to confirm my opinion. “It is Professor Overbee, I was here last summer.”
“Whatever!” She replied, her agitation growing. “What do you want!” She ordered.
“I’m here to… “only to be interrupted by the phone.
“What!” Was the only greeting she presented. “Listen, I don’t give a fuck about your condition. He’s dead, so find someone else to dump your troubles on or better yet. Do the world a favor and just end it. I know that would make me happier!” And to punctuate her point, she just hung up on them.
“Well!” She redirected her wrath toward me.
“I’m here to see Allen.” I was a little relived to finally get it out.
“Didn’t you just hear me a second ago. He’s dead, you moron!”
I was so taken aback by the news, that I just stood there as she ranted and raved at me.
Finally I found my voice. “What do you mean, he’s dead?”
“God, is everyone around here an idiot. He is dead, gone!” As the phone rang, she returned to relentless assault on whom so ever was calling.
“How, when?” I asked.
This redirected Janet’s attention from ransacking her desk back toward me. “How, he wondered into the wrong part of town, not that there are any good parts left to this shit hole, but the idiot went somewhere worst than the rest and got himself stabbed for his wallet. As to when, last night.”
“Now if you are done wasting my time, I’ve got to get my shit out of here and to my new boss!” And without letting me get a word in, she grabbed the box on her desk and stormed out of the office, the phone still ringing.
Slowly I made my way to my car, the chaos of the hospital was barely background noise to my mood.
Feeling too tired and worn out from the drive, I pulled into the first hotel I found after leaving the hospital and rented a room for the night.
I entered the room and instead of being greeted with a wave of cool refreshing air one would expect when entering a hotel room on a hot and muggy day, it felt even hotter in the stuffy room. Throwing my suitcase down on the bed in disgust, I stormed over to the AC controls to turn up the air, only to find it set on high already.
“This is Overbee in 289, why is my AC not working!” I barked into to phone as soon as the clerk had answered it.
“It is working, if you don’t believe me, shut it off for a while!” Was the response I got before the phone was slammed down upon my ear.
I was ablaze with anger at the response thatII had gotten from the poor excuse of a human being working the desk. I even hated Allen at that point for dragging me down here on this now useless trip. How dare he do something stupid like get himself killed, when he knew I was postponing my plans for him.
I dug into my suitcase, determined to take a cold shower to cool off In my aggravated groping I happened upon a small, fist-sized stone I had brought to show Allen. As soon as my hand touched it, I was overwhelmed with a relaxed feeling as all the tension that I had been gathering since I arrived drained out of me. I even shivered as a wave of cool air passed over me.
When I had finally overcome my shock, I reexamined my newly realized prize. It was a small piece of
granite, unremarkable in both shape and size. It was about the size of a clinched fist, with an odd, irregular shape that only nature could have provided. The handling of many had worn its sharp corners and edges down. Despite of this, the symbol inscribed upon it showed no sign of erosion. An odd shaped star with a small flaming, eyelike symbol in its center was the only decoration.
I had come upon the object at an estate auction earlier this year and had recognized it as an excellent example of the Elder Sign, which is supposed to be a all powerful ward verses an entire menagerie of supernatural ills. I had presented it to my department head and was rewarded with not only the conformation of my analysis, but the fact that it was one ‘empowered’ as he put it. I had put it down to just a little senility at the time, but here it was being held in my hand and having a profound effect upon myself
In the entire time I had studied the paranormal I had examined hundreds of cases of the so called supernatural. Most were explained away as natural occurrences, either misunderstood or misperceived. In a few cases there was evidence of something else, never enough to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt the existence of the paranormal. The truth was I was not entirely convinced of it myself
Now I was confronted with the cold, hard evidence in my hand. The ancient Elder Sign was protecting me from, well something. This caused me to pause in my mental train of thought, for I had no idea what it was protecting me from. What I did know was the second I touched it my thoughts had cleared up, the irritation I had felt building since I had arrived was gone and even the oppressive heat felt bearable.
Obviously Allen had been on to something. Poor Allen, I thought but quickly pushed by grief aside. There would be time to deal with that once I got a handle concerning what was going on and how to deal with it.
That raised my next question. How do I deal with whatever I find? I had been trained to study and often explain what other saw as the supernatural, now I had to deal with it myself I quickly realized I was totally out of my depth and put a call into Professor Wang, my department head and mentor when I was a grad student.
Unfortunately, I found like everyone else, that he had left on break. His answering machine said he had gone to England for the break.
So being totally alone on this I decided to start with Allen’s office and see if I could find anything there to point me in the right direction. I only hoped that direction did not lead to the same designation as Allen’s.
With the stone safely in my pocket I returned to the hospital. There I hoped to get into Allen’s office and his notes and find something to tell me what he had stumbled upon. I now was convinced that his death was not simple mugging or if it was a simple crime, it had occurred while he was investigating the sinister happenings here in West Port.
I found the hospital in the same chaos as earlier and I quickly made my way up the elevator to Allen’s office. I was prepared to have to get through his former secretary’. Now, I felt sorry for the poor dear. It must have been terrible living here these last couple of months. The few hours I suffered before I found the safety of the Elder Sign was a strain on my nerves. If this has been going on during the enter heat wave, then it was any wonder the entire town had not destroyed itself
I found his office empty, either the late afternoon hour or her new boss had kept her away. I was in luck in that after she stormed out, she had never returned to lock up. So I quickly locked myself in his office and began to go through his files.
After going through all of his desk and filing cabinets I finally found his journal on his computer. Most of the entries were concerning his patients, his last couple of weeks were filled full of paranoid rambling. He was convinced that some sinister force was at work in West Port.
He had started believing the local industries were at fault for the heat wave, in so much as they went largely unregulated, this being the only remaining source of income to the area other than the little shipping it got. While this was carefully thought out and reasoned he later rejected it as being too localized to West Port and not extending further downwind from the city, I could tell he was beginning to become agitated and short in his entries.
Next he entered into a series of entries dealing with an evil government conspiracy theory. Here, he started making vast and unsubstantiated, leaps in thought. Clearly whatever was affecting the city and the surrounding areas were beginning to take its toll upon by friend’s sanity.
Then suddenly three days ago, he seems to have regained a bit of his clarity. He had noticed a pattern in the heat wave. He found that increases in severity and scope of effect were linked with the erection of several statues by a local artist. He had become convinced that these statues were the cause of the heat wave and were perhaps having other effects upon the locals.
Were it not for the effect the Elder Sign had upon my temperament, I would have rejected Allen’s last theory as being the last stage of a mental breakdown. But since an ancient symbol of protection was protecting me from
some dark influence that had taken hold of the local population, then it was not such a stretch to accept that some diabolical statues could be the cause of it all.
‘I’ve got to find it. I must locate the focus of it all. Demark’s workhas got to be the cause. It is the only thing that makes sense. I‘d called Overbee and finally convinced himcome down and help me. He will see what is going on. He knows more of this shit than me. I am going to check out the locations of the statues tonight and see if I can get some idea of how they are doing all this. ‘His final entry stated.
I rechecked his journal and notes, but I came up empty on the name Demark and his works. Whatever Allen had suspected the statues of doing, he had taken to his grave. But hopefully I could find out what and where they were and with a little luck and my keen intellect, ok a lot of luck, I would be able to piece together what Allen suspected.
I left the hospital and made my way toward West Port’s only library.
Now that night had fallen, and some of the heat had receded, the city had came to life, well in it’s current state it was more of a half life, but the sidewalks had people on them. Most had a worn, defeated look about them, unemployment was rampant in West Port. They were just wondering along, it was still too hot to sit still, but they obviously had nowhere to go.
Now there were some who were moving about with purpose. I was a para-physiologist, and had taken a full scope of physiology and sociology courses. There was some moving about like jackals circling a wounded beast, waiting for it to fall. Gangs were a very big problem in West Port and with them came a very bad crime wave.
Nervously I made my way to the city’s only open library. In its heyday there had been a central library with several branches scattered throughout the city, now only the central library remained. During my last visit Alien and I had used its limited resources to research the history of a local, reputed, haunted house. While it had proved impossible to get anything other than archived newspaper articles out of the stacks, in the end it turned out to be local kids using the house for certain activities rather than any supernatural ones to be the cause for the disturbances that the neighbors had reported.
As I entered into the main lobby, I noticed that only about a third of the lights were on. At first I thought this was to save on energy and reduce the heat in the building, but it soon became apparent by the interval and spacing of the lit lights that it was from neglect, than any planning. The lack of even a glance or greeting from the individual at the main desk confirmed that. They were only a body occupying space, with only the motion of fanning themselves with a stack of papers proving they still lived.
I still carried the Elder Stone with me in my pocket and while the heat was still with me, it was nowhere oppressive nor unbearable as before.
I had remembered from my earlier visit the location of the newspaper archives, and there forth did not have to depend upon the help, if any could have been obtained, of the individual at the desk.
I had begun to regret not bring a flashlight as I made my way through the stacks, with the lack of lighting and stacks of books awaiting the attentions of the librarians, making my going treacherous. I also had realized that I the only patron of the library this evening and began to get a little uneasy as I neared the archive.
I entered the room with a sigh that at least some of it’s lights was working, quickly that sigh turned into one of frustration as I realized that it had received as much attention as the rest of the library. Stacks of newspapers, some of which had fallen over and lay is total disarray.
Clearing off a workspace on a desk I turned to task at locating information concerning Demark. At once I realized that the library had let it’s subscription to all but the local newspaper lapse, I was not sure if they even maintained that one or whether it was just delivered out of habit, since most of the papers appeared to have been unopened, just thrown into the room. This actually worked to my advantage since the stack nearest the door was the most recent and contained the last two weeks worth of papers.
I started with the local news and arts sections, what little there was in the paper. I figured I would start with Demark being the name of either a sculptor of the mentioned sculptures in Allen’s last journal entry. I got lucky on my first try. I had started on the day that Allen had gotten killed; hoping that whatever had set him off had been in that day’s paper. I found an article about the unveiling of Demark’s fourth work that he had donated to the city. It seems he was a local artist of some success trying to give back to the city of his birth. Labeled an abstract artist by the article, the paper had included picture of the piece.
I nervously clutched the Elder Sign for comfort as I confronted the blasphemous image before me. Its shapes and angles drew me in and seemed to defy normal rules of geometry. I had seen, but never in such horrifying detail, pictures of statues like it before. They had been long forgotten and time had not been kind to them, but they had been used in the worship to “he who name is not to be spoken” The last know cult had been identified by the inquisition in Spain and duly its members executed and all their icons destroyed. The pictures I had seen were from an excavated site in northern Italy that was dated from before the founding of the Roman Empire. I had never heard of any resurgence of this cult, but here was proof of it. It was too deliberate, too disturbing, for it to be a coincidence. Either the artist was a dedicated worshiper of this ancient god or he was copying these statues and presenting it as his work. With the heat wave the city was enduring and the affect it was having on everyone and the fact the Elder Sign helped protect me from some of the heat waves apparently supernatural effects, made me think it was more the former rather than the later.
Pulling myself away from the nerve-racking photo, I copied down the addresses of the four statues, planning on comparing them on a map to the location of Allen’s death to see if he was near one of them when he was killed.
I made my way to the phones in the lobby and was finally able to fine one that still contained a phonebook. I turned to the city map and started marking the locations of the statues one it, figuring that what passed for the librarian would not care, if they even noticed. As I marked these locations on the map, I found a pattern emerged. When the major streets located at these points were matched up it formed a symbol used in the worship of the nameless god. I cursed that the text I had read had contained very little details concerning this god, his real name or what the symbol had been used for. In truth it had barely contained a few paragraphs about this cult and a picture of a badly eroded statue and a drawing of a symbol found on the floor next to the statue. The fourth statue would have completed the symbol and was located at what seemed to be the focal ‘point of it. It also was less that a block from where Allen had been killed. It seemed that my next stop was very clear.
The fourth statue lay downtown in the small park in front of what passed for city hall. Like a great many cities, especially those whose fortunes were in the decline, it’s core was decayed and largely rotten. In West Port only onc out of four buildings downtown were even in legitimate use. Even among the remaining, many of them were decayed to the point even the homeless would not touch them.
I drove slowly past city hall and the small park that lay in front of it. Despite the fact it was beginning to get late, I saw quite a few people were in it. Most looked to be young and gang members by colors they were wearing. The strange part was that they were several different colors in the crowd. This must be neutral territory for the gangs of West Port.
I strained to catch sight of the statue, though the gang members were largely blocking it. What little I did see filled me with dread at the sight of its grotest line and despite the Elder Sign’s protection I felt waves of anger and frustration batter against me.
So intent was I on the statue that I barely caught sight of a garbage truck on the street moving to meet me. I tried to get out of it’s path and laid into the horn, but the driver was staring at the statue and slammed into my little car. Apparently it was enough of a jolt that he stopped or perhaps his foot simply slipped off the gas, because after dragging my poor car down the street and into another parked car the truck stopped.
As I pulled myself from the tangled wreck that was all that remained of my car, I saw several of the people from the park moving toward us. At first I thought they were coming to help, moving cautiously for fear that the truck was not through moving yet, but as they drew near, I realized that they were moving slowly and jerkily, as if their movements were not entirely coordinated. As they drew near I saw that their eyes were empty, glazing at no particular spot and I caught drool coming out of the slacked mouth of the closest one.
They seemed to be ignoring the driver, who had left his truck and was moving toward the statue, obviously now in the grip of its effects, whatever sinister effects that was, and moving directly toward me.
I decided to put some distance between me and them, in other words, I ran away.
I had covered about half a block when something grabbed me from one of the alleys of the deserted buildings.
I expected to come face to face with one of the zombie like gangers from the park, but the face that greeted me was very animate and very angry. He was young, probably no more than 20, but big, very big. The only way I was able to look him straight in the eyes was due to the fact he was holding over a foot off the ground.
“Who the hell are you?” He growled.
“Professor Overbee.” I managed to stutter out.
“Why did you leave the park?” Came the next interrogation.
“There were people after me.”
“Why, everyone else who came near there tonight has stayed, what makes you special.” He directed. “You the one doing it.”
“No. I am trying to find out what is going on. A friend of mine was killed here last night trying to figure it out too.” With that he dropped me, somehow I managed to stay on my feet.
“That was your friend last night. They got him too, he tried to run from the statue, but not as good as you
did. He kept staggering and falling and they got to him and starting beating him till he stopped.”
“You have been watching this thing.” I said more as a statement than a question. I noticed that now I was no longer certain I was going to die right now, that we were not alone. A number of kids all wearing the same jacket’s were in the alley with us.
“Yea, about three days ago, when they put up that statue, people started hanging around it. Anyone who got near it at night would just stay there. Tonight it seems to get anyone on the street too. They stay there all night and if the wind is coming from there, you can hear some kind of chanting. When the morning comes, they wonder off to the buildings and you can not wake them up till night comes. We even tried to get our guys out and back to our house, but they nearly killed themselves getting back here once night came.” He related to me. “So what makes you special and what is going on?”
I looked at him for a second and decided what the hell. “As near as I can figure out, the artist who made these statues, is the worshiper of an ancient god. He is using these statues and the streets they lie on to create a giant symbol of this god, with this last statue making it complete and those poor souls entrapped by it, are being used to complete the ritual. The purpose of this ritual I can only guess, but I suspect that the rising temperatures, madness it is causing the population here, that it is attempting to summon this ancient and evil god to this city. Why I am not affected is because I posses an ancient stone upon which is carved a symbol designed to protect against the powers of this ancient evil.” I was downright guessing at most of this, but it was the only thing that fit and I was fully prepared for their reactions of ridicule and probably some violence.
I was totally unprepared for their reaction.
After a few seconds he said. “Yea, that makes sense. Vicky figured it was something like that.” To which someone in the back yelled I told you so. “Ok, you the expert here prof. how do we stop it.”
Now I was totally unprepared for this. Not only did they believe me, but they expected me to provide the solution to this mess. Apparently years of B rate horror movies does has some advantages on the youth of today. Granted it was of limited value and only useful in certain circumstances, but at this time I was thankful for it.
“It seems that if we destroy the statues, starting with the one that completed the symbol, then we can break the spell.” I offered my newly obtained followers.
“Great plan Einstein, but one question, how do we get close to it, without it doing to us, what it has done to everyone else?” He asked back. “I don’t suppose you have more of those signs on you?”
“No, but I remember a spell to use that will grant it’s effects to others. It is not quite as strong as the stone itself and it lasts less than an hour, but it should keep us sane and on the same side till we can get the job done.” ln truth I only half remembered the spell and was not very sure it would entirely protect them, but it was the only chance we had.
“Well do it already then, time a wasting and zombies are gaining members as we speak.” He indicated as a couple got out of their car and headed toward the park.
“Zombie is not exact ally correct in this case, since they are still alive.” I started to explain.
“Listen! I am called ripper for a reason.” He interrupted pulling out a knife. “Either you help us or I will take your little stone and I try it on my own.
I nodded and closed my eyes. I started the chant, hoping that I remembered it correctly. it was short and I had just read it the day before. I finished it and could tell that my ‘friends’ were still very agitated and not the least bit relieved.
I tried again, this time putting my all into it. Focusing on the stone, I feel like my breath was sucked out of me and I thought one of the gangers had gotten impatient and hit me. it took me a second to realize they had not. Something deep inside of me had been removed, a part of my soul. I was weak, but I was recovering slowly. In the mean time, they had started muttering among themselves, apparently it had worked and they were shielded from whatever the statues were doing.
Ripper slapped me on the back, with a wicked grin motioned for us to head toward the park.
As started down the street I had a thought. “We can hardly destroy it with our bare hands.” I said to Ripper. All he did was indicate behind him. I turned to see several of the boys with crowbars and one even had a sledgehammer. Where exactly they got them or even worse the thought that they always carried them occurred to me, making me shiver.
We passed an idling car on our way to the park. it’s lights were still on and it’s doors were ajar. Glancing at my newly acquired companions, I was relieved to see them still holding that mad-dog look in their eyes. It is amazing how something that normally would seen me running toward the nearest police station, now filled me with so much comfort.
I looked back toward the park. It was filled with shifting darkness, the few working streetlights, barely seemed to pierce the gloom. However the statue was clearly lit, either the city or the artist had spent time making sure it was well lit. Even with the elder stone clutched in my hand and the words of prayer to strengthen my spirit, it filled me with dread, seeming to crush hope.
Why was I here? It was hopeless after all. What hope did I have against the power’s it represented. Perhaps it would be better to give in to it’s master. Cast aside the Elder stone and with it the protection it afforded the degenerates of society that dared associate with me. The master would welcome such a me into it’s service, after all had not I been the only one to figure out what it was. Allen had just guessed at what was going on, I had figured it out. What rewards could I reap when the master fully came into this world.
“Fuck you and whatever damnable dimension you call home!” I screamed at the horrific statue breaking it’s siren hold on me. I was shocked to see that we had halted while it had tried to work it’s tentacles into my mind. The entire time we had stood there, those poor bastards in it’s control made their way to us and was almost upon us.
My shout had stirred had been taken up as a battle cry, well at least the ‘fuck you’ part, and they were rushing to meet those zombie wantabees.
I stood there and watch them wade into the sea of flesh that were trying to block them from the statue. I quickly realized that for every ganger we brought with us, there were at least four or five zombies. While they were slowed by the statue’s effect, they were winning. I watched in horror as a crowbar was taken from one of them and then used on the former owner. I turned away as his head caved in. It was hopeless I thought and then I saw something and a way out presented itself
“You fucking coward!” Ripper screamed at me as I ran from the park toward my smashed car.
As I reached it, I realized it would never move again, but it was not my goal. I climbed into the dump truck that has destroyed my baby.
The former driver, now slave, had left it running and even more lucky for me it was still in gear. It took some doing to get it moving and I made if jump once by popping the clutch, God how I hated standards, doing further damage to my car. Finally it was moving, rolling over what was left of my car. Ripper had left the fight, probably intent on crushing in my skull before the slaves of the statues claimed him. Fortunately he was smart enough to get out of the way as I turned the truck into the park. The engine revved way too high as I gunned it, but there was no way in hell I was going to try and shift gears as I bounced through the park. Several small trees, trash cans and even a water fountain fell victim to me as I tried to keep the truck on a straight track.
I felt the statue call to me and while I would like to think I was made of sterner stuff, the bouncing around I was suffering in the truck made it hard for anything or anyone to get a clear thought through my head. I hardly advise anyone on trying to drive a dump truck through a neglected park, but if you do, at least have the sense to fasten the seatbelt. I would have probably came through it with far less bruising if I had.
As I neared the statue, I was relieved to see all its slaves were in the fight and not around it. I am sure I could not have steered to miss them and I would not want to have any deaths on hands. I clutched the wheel tightly as prepared to hit the steps leading up to the statue. The truck made a horrible sound as it hit them and something important fell off the bottom as I felt my heart drop as the engine stop. But I had more than enough momentum to carry me to the statue, but would it be enough to destroy the statue?
I am not sure what the statue was made but it offered no resistance to the rushing truck. I slammed through the statue and then down the steps on the other side before coming to a stop about fifty feet on the other side.
Carefully I climbed out and turned to survey the results of my efforts.
First the park was a wreck. The truck have carved a path of destruction through to the, now destroyed statue. Secondly bodies lay everywhere, surprisingly very few were the gang that had came with me.
As I made my way back, Ripper ran up to meet me.
“Are they dead?” I asked as he got to me.
“You shit!” He yelled, giving me a punch to the arm that nearly knocked me down. “I thought you were running out on us, hell of a plan.” He said with a grin. Turning to the war zone behind him. “No, not all, they all fell down when you hit the statue. Most are just passed out.”
“Probably from a combination of shock and exhaustion.” I offered. “Some of them have been here for several days.”
“Well the ones who had been here the longest are dead.” He said way to casually. “It was probably the only thing keeping them going.”
“We are not done yet, there are still three more statues left, but I expect them to be unguarded now. This was the focal point, but they are still screwing up the weather and people.”
“You want to drive?” He said with a laugh pointing to the truck.
“I am afraid I make a poor garbage man, that truck is not going anywhere right now. We will have to figure some other way to get at the statues. And I think a visit to the artist is in order.” I replied.
“No problem just leave it to us. Can you ride?” He asked.
I spent the better part of the evening relearning to ride a motorcycle. A friend in high school had one, and much to my parent’s horror, I spent one summer riding everywhere with him on it and learning to ride it.
We had made a quick 911 call as we left the park, hoping that they brought enough ambulances to the park. We then took out the rest of the statues, I never got the nerve to ask Ripper where they got the plastic explosives they used, probably safer that I do not know.
At the artist’s loft, we found out we were out of luck on our payback. Something had beat us there. He who is not to be named, apparently did not take failure lightly. Whatever took him apart had very big claws, judging by the marks left in the walls and the boys had a great debate about what it looked like.
I found several volumes in the artist’s possession which I had only heard about including Crumb’s incomplete work of European cults and several that I had never heard of but were of ancient age. I decided to take these into protective custody, Ripper gave me one of those grins that send shivers up my back as I packed them down the stairs.
As we parted company he let me keep the back. It’s former owner had been one of the first taken and had not survived that horrible night in the park. So with whatever I could salvage from my car and my suitcase, now filled with my new books, from the motel secured tightly to the bike, I roared out of West Port as the storm clouds were gathering. It had been scarcely 20 hours since I had arrived, but in that time my world had been turned upside down and things I thought were only stories to scare children from years past, were now real to me. I planned to spend the rest of my vacation back home at the University. Professor Wang, my department head, would surely know something about what I had uncovered.
So with determination I rushed home. Determined to find answers and in reality I was rushing into horrors unimaginable. But that is tales for another time.
