If you like Rob Zombie's movies, Cannibal Corpse's lyrics and Slayer's brutality, you'll love my short ghorror stories. If you still haven't figured out what ghorror means by now, it's a mixture of gore and horror.
My Latest! Molly Griffin and the Key of the Lion! It's like a gruesome Harry Potter or something lol
The Devil's Game!
The Closet (first book I've ever published) Not a gory one, but it really is an awesome book. I put a lot of thought into this one! ;)
Here is a little sample of my work. *evil laugh*
When Sharon woke up to her alarm clock, it was 8:55 in the morning and she found a note on her night stand. It freaked her out a bit since she lived alone, but when she noticed that her stomach was aching, she put the note aside and pulled her wife beater up a bit. There were nine poorly sewn stiches in her stomach and her throat began to dry up. She snatched the note back up and read:
Dear Sharon,
You probably don't know who I am, but I asked you out to prom 8 years ago and you laughed at me and said that you wouldn't go to prom with me if I were the last man on Earth. You broke my heart that day, so now, I'm getting revenge. Last night, I opened you up and placed a bomb inside of you. There's only way to get it out and that's to find the button to unset it. My buddy Ryan Shepard has the button, but you have to find out where he lives. You can't just go and have it surgically removed either, because if you put too much pressure on it, it will go off automatically. I assume it's nine o'clock now and the bomb will go off in 12 hours. Good luck, Sharon. Let the game begin...
Jimmy
"No!" Sharon screamed, looking at the clock. It had just struck 9:00. Quickly, she ran to her computer and typed in Ryan Shepard. She started searching for addresses and after finding three different ones, she wrote them down on a piece of paper. One was 600 miles away, another was 400 and the last was only 290. They were all in the same direction, so she decided to try all three. She looked at the clock and it read 9:08, so she rushed out to her old pickup truck and started heading to the first house. She went 90 mph on the highway and when she arrived at the first house, it was a little past noon.
She jumped out of her truck and ran up to the front door. Four hunting dogs were chained up in the backyard, barking and an older man opened the door.
"Is there a Ryan Shepard here?" she asked.
"No, sorry, wrong house," the man said and he began to shut the door.
"Wait, wait," Sharon pleaded, tearing up, but he shut the door in her face and locked it.
Feeling exhausted and disappointed, Sharon went back to her truck and continued. When she found the second house, it was almost 3:00. She hopped out of the truck, ran up to the door and knocked.
The guy who answered the door that time looked more like her age and she tried again. "Are you Ryan Shepard?"
"No, why?" he asked.
Sharon explained her story, but the man just looked shocked. The wind blew through Sharon's hair and her eyes began to water. "Can you help me?"
"What a sick bastard," the guy whispered.
"Yeah," Sharon sniffed. "All because I wouldn't go to prom with him..."
"Ok, well I'll help you find him," he assured her. "My name is Randy."
"Sharon."
Randy and Sharon climbed into her pickup and Randy started toward the last house. At the rate that he was driving, they figured that they'd arrive at the house, three hours before the bomb was set to go off and Sharon began to relax again. When they arrived at the house, they both ran up to the front door and rapped, loudly, on it. Sharon found a doorbell and rang it several times.
"Well..." Randy sighed. "I guess we're just gonna have to wait."
"Damnit!" Sharon groaned, putting her back to the door and sliding, miserably, down until her butt found the welcome mat.
"Don't worry," Randy assured her. "He'll come home."
So they waited and after about 2 hours, Randy said, "I'm gonna go find another house and ask if he lives here. What's his last name?"
"Shepard..." Sharon groaned, shivering a bit. Randy removed his leather coat and dropped it into Sharon's lap. Then, he took the keys and got into her pickup.
After about 15 minutes, Randy hadn't returned and Sharon began to worry about him. But she was afraid that if she went to look for him, he might come back and find her gone. So, she waited and when she saw a figure move, quickly, through the dark trees, chills ran down her spine and her throat became as dry as a desert. She started crying and praying and when she saw the figure again, she stood up and made her way around the deck towards the back of the house.
There, she saw something terrifying. Something that she'd never want to touch with a ten foot pole. The yard was dusty and there was trash everywhere. The trees were dead and reaching out to her like arms that were about to drag her into the mess. In the middle of all the garbage made her insides crawl and her heart stop. In the middle of the disaster were, more or less, 50 human and animal carcasses, surrounded by flies.
Sharon hoped that that wasn't going to happen to her. Her legs began to tremble as she backed away from the dead bodies and then, someone grabbed her. She screamed and when she turned around, Randy was standing behind her. "Randy," she groaned, hugging him tight and crying into his armpit. "Randy, get this bomb out of me! Please!"
"I don't know how, Sweetheart," he sighed, rubbing her back, sympathetically.
Randy and Sharon got back into the pickup and then, Sharon remembered something. "I saw something running through the forest earlier. I couldn't tell if it were beast or human."
"Or supernatural..." Randy suggested, looking up to the roof of the truck. I wouldn't worry about it. Let's just concentrate on getting this bomb out."
Randy continued to wait for Ryan and soon, it was 8:54. "Oh God," Sharon whined, getting out of the truck. "Oh no, oh no, oh no..." She pulled her shirt off and pulled out some of the stiches. Blood began to gush out and in disgust, she vomited and pulled out some more.
"Sharon, stop!" Randy begged, getting out and running to her side.
Sharon, however, ignored him and continued to rip open her wound. Vomiting again, she fell to her knees and began to scream in agony. "You fucking cocksucker! How could you do this to me?!"
"Sharon, you can't put pressure on it," Randy reminded her.
When Sharon got the last stitch out, she stared at her gushing stomach, wondering if she should try to remove the bomb or not. It was 9:58 now and Sharon looked up at Randy, eyes wet and red. "Get away from me! I don't want to kill you!"
"Game over, Sharon," Randy said, seriously.
"What?" Sharon moaned, looking up at Randy.
"Game over," he repeated, pulling something out of his pocket and he pressed a button on it.
"You mean you were in on this?" Sharon demanded. "You fucking bastard!" She tried to stand up, but her stomach was in too much pain. She ignored it though and leaped up and started strangling Randy. "You asshole! You deserve to fucking burn in hell!"
Sharon pulled a razor blade out of her pocket and threatened Randy with it. She was so close to slicing his neck open, so he gathered all of his strength, pushed her to the ground and as he ran away from her, he pushed the button again. A few seconds later, the bomb exploded and Sharon's guts were splattered across the asphalt.
Randy got back into the pickup, lit a cigar and drove off into the night. "Thou will be done, Satan..."
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