Survive With Me: 5 Questions with the great Ronald Malfi

SURVIVE WITH ME features 16 of my favorite writer buds. Each of them gave these stories to me for this charity anthology. ALL proceeds go to the American Indian College Fund. You can order your eBook or paperback copy HERE Or discover more about this wonderful cause here: AMERICAN INDIAN COLLEGE FUND

Tonight, we welcome one of my very favorite authors in the horror business. Three of his novels are contenders in my all-time Top 10 list (Bone White, Floating Staircase, The Narrows) and the rest are just as stellar. When he’s not writing, you can also find him rocking out with his band, VEER. He’s also one of the nicest, coolest dudes to have a beer with. Bone White is in the works at Amazon, so he’ll be adding movies/tv to his already impressive resume. Let’s catch up with Mr. Ronald Malfi.

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What inspired your story in SWM, “Discussions Concerning the Ingestion of Living Insects” and its crazy title?

I wrote “Discussions Concerning the Ingestion of Living Insects” for a Raw Dog Screaming anthology called Sick: An Anthology of Illness, back in 2003 or so. In hindsight, it was sort of shoehorned into that anthology because it has nothing to do with illness and everything to do with survival, which makes it a nice fit for Survive With Me, of course. The main protag is laid up in bed, in an abandoned hospital during some nameless war, reliving the terrible deed that wound him up in that place. Unlike his dead compatriots, he refuses to surrender to death, so he continues to survive in a very unorthodox and stomach-churning way. I mean, the title of the story kinda says it all, right?

What other causes would you like see get some more attention?

We live in a time of causes, and that’s good, although some remain overlooked while others have become part of the fabric of our culture. I’ll twist your question to suit my response here, which is that I commend you for choosing to benefit Native American education, because I feel that is a cause wholly overlooked. 

You do winter horror/thrillers so well (Snow, The Ascent, Bone White), what is about that setting that gets your juices flowing?

I mean, the winter is just so suitable for horror, no? The cold, the desiccation, the bleakness of it all. Plus, what better time to read? A good book, a glass of scotch, and a roaring fire–is there anything better?

You love to rock. What does 2021 hold for VEER?

As you can imagine, COVID crushed the band’s ability to tour and play live. Our last show was in January, which seems like a century ago now, before all this madness hit us. However, we’ve been blessed with excellent fans who continue to support us, purchasing T-shirts, CDs, and all manner of merch from our website, veerband.net, to keep us afloat during this time. Meanwhile, we’ve been recording new music for our sophomore album, and will be releasing a new single and music video very soon. We’d love for anyone to subscribe to our YouTube channel, where we’ll be releasing new material, included a behind-the-scenes web series, which will mostly be us arguing, I imagine. (YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCrghUCsCW3xCBKjOvz_KbKw )

Give me three songs you’d be willing to do at karaoke that might surprise people. 

Excellent question. Maybe not complete surprises, but:

    1) “The Warrior” by Scandal

    2) “Round Here” by Counting Crows

    3) “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper

    4) “Mysterious Ways” by U2

    5) “A Nightmare on My Street” by DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince

VEER:

HYPED FOR 2020: Most Anticipated Reads

2019 is over (almost), so I thought I’d follow in the footsteps of some of my writer and reviewer buds, and give you my most anticipated books of 2020!

We’ll do top 5, since I’m sure there are plenty of books by writers I love that I am not yet aware of for the upcoming year.

AND AS ALWAYS.click on the covers below to pre-order.

(DEVIL’S CREEK isn’t up yet)

 

 

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Stephen Graham Jones is an outstanding writer. His coming of age werewolf novel, MONGRELS, is one of my favorite books of all-time. His collection, AFTER THE PEOPLE LIGHTS HAVE GONE OFF, is also one of my top collections ever. It is with baited breath that I await THE ONLY GOOD INDIANS.

 

 

 

 

 

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Jonathan Janz is one of the most dedicated horror writers around. His two newest FLAME TREE PRESS books, THE SIREN AND THE SPECTER, and the amazing, THE DARK GAME, serve as proof that he is only getting better. There’s no reason to not think THE RAVEN isn’t a hit just waiting to be unleashed!

 

 

 

 

 

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Todd Keisling is best known for his novellas and the fantastic UGLY LITTLE THINGS set of horror stories. I’ve been patiently waiting for this man and his piles of endless talent to deliver an epic horror novel…and the wait is nearly over! Thanks to SILVER SHAMROCK, we will be given Keisling’s next horror offering, the novel, DEVIL’S CREEK.

 

 

 

 

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Adam Cesare is one of the most driven forces in the horror writing world that I’ve ever run into. His books, TRIBESMEN, THE SUMMER JOB, and VIDEO NIGHT rocked my horror loving heart. In terms of “new releases”, he’s been missing the last year or two.  I figured he was up to something big, and I was right.

CLOWN IN A CORNFIELD will mark Cesare’s debut within the realm of Young Adult Horror, and I think he’s going to nail the heck out of it.  Also, it’s coming from HARPER COLLINS, so expect a great push. And peep that rad cover!

 

 

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Brian Moreland is one of my favorite writers of he last decade. His books, SHADOWS IN THE MIST and DEAD OF WINTER are amazing, and his novella, DARKNESS RISING, is a true horror gem.

Watching how well Moreland has worked historical periods within some of his stories, I cannot wait to see what he does with Ancient Egypt. TOMB OF GODS marks his first full-length release in a couple years, and I feel like I’ve been starved. Easily my MOST anticipated book of 2020.

 

 

 

 

I’m curious to see what we get in way of new releases from Patrick Lacey, Gwendolyn Kiste,  and Ronald Malfi, too.  Hopefully, we get something from each of them!

I left off the new King book, IF IT BLEEDS. I think that one goes without saying (even though I kind of just said it).

 

Anyways, I also have a new book on the way (May 21st from Flame Tree Press), if you dig love stories, coming of age, vampires, Old Orchard Beach, and all things 1980s, you’ll probably want to check out UNTIL SUMMER COMES AROUND.

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When fifteen year old Rocky Zukas meets a mysterious dark-haired girl named November, his world is forever changed. The young couple falls under the spell of summer love, but not everyone approves. November’s brother, Gabriel, is the keeper of the family’s secret, and big brother is always watching, growing more sinister as his bloodlust gets the best of him. Directing his attention to Rocky’s family, Gabriel aims to make sure little sister knows who is in charge.

 

 

 

 

 

Officially signed with FLAME TREE PRESS!

It’s been a while…

Happy to announce that I have signed with FLAME TREE PRESS for my vampire novel, UNTIL SUMMER COMES AROUND.

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UNTIL SUMMER COMES AROUND

It’s Old Orchard Beach, Maine in the summer of 1986. The pier, the fries, the tourists, and the sunshine blazing high above the Atlantic. For fifteen year old Rocky Zukas, it’s when he sees the beach side town he calls home come to life. Gone are the long, cold, quiet nights of the off season, and here, like magic, returns the beauty and wonder of the city’s heartbeat.

This summer brings her.

When a mysterious, dark-haired girl named November walks into his world, Rocky’s life is forever changed.

A story of love, loss, betrayal, and the undead, ends in explosive fashion after sundown.

In the tradition of such modern horror classics as The Traveling Vampire Show by Richard Laymon and Ghoul by Brian Keene, Until Summer Comes Around proves once and for all…the monsters are real.

Look for UNTIL SUMMER COMES AROUND to be released in mid-2020.

And I am so happy to be back with family like this.

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Stoker Con Providence, RI 2018 (Left to right: -JH Moncreiff, me, JG Faherty, and Don D’Auria)

From my first viewing of THE LOST BOYS to reading Anne Rice’s THE VAMPIRE CHRONICLES, ‘SALEM’S LOT by King, THE NARROWS by Ronald Mafi, and LIVE GIRLS by Ray Garton, this  one has been percolating for some time.

See the below video from my old band, THE NEW 45- “I Wanna Suck Your Blood”

Best Horror Books Post-2000, Non-King

A Twitter friend posted a picture of her Top !0 favorite post 2000, non-King books.

I liked the idea, so I just wanted to share some of the ones under that criteria that have stuck with me above all the others. These are some of my favorite all-time.

If you haven’t read these yet, make a list  and go find them.

 

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(SHARE THE HORROR) MY BEST OF 2017

There are always so many great books I miss out on during their year of release (this year, Grady Hendrix’s MY BEST FRIEND’S EXORCISM meets that criteria—such a fun book from 2016).
I did manage to squeeze in a few more in the early weeks of January that I’d been interested in. As always, you don’t have to be the most original, the best writer in town, or the scariest MFer on the planet to make my list. Just have your book come out in 2017 and entertain the heck  out of me. So, here is my list of the Top 12 horror books of 2017.

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12. THE SOUND OF BROKEN RIBS by EDWARD LORN   Despite our differences, I still enjoyed this novel from Mr. Lorn. A bit like a lost Laymon or Ketchum novel, maybe not THE CELLAR or OFF SEASON, but a good one.

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11. BLACK MAD WHEEL by JOSH MALERMAN   This one started off slow, got really, really good, and then fizzled out. But that good center was really good.  Different without being obnoxiously so.

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10. WE ARE ALWAYS WATCHING by HUNTER SHEA  Shea always delivers the goods. This has some of his best characters yet.

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9. EXORCIST FALLS by JONATHAN JANZ  My most-anticipated read of 2017 and my favorite book cover of the year. Not what I expected–it went in a different direction than I thought–but still an awesome, action-packed thrill-ride.

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8. THOSE WHO FOLLOW by MICHELLE GARZA & MELISSA LASON  Just as crazy and weird and fun as their debut, The Sisters of Slaughter give us another deliciously macabre offering.

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7. WHAT DO MONSTERS FEAR? By MATT HAYWARD  Another favorite cover of mine, Matt Hayward’s debut novel is a cool mash-up of  ...Cukoo’s Nest and The Thing….Beware PHOBOS!

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6. FUNGOID by WILLIAM MEIKLE    Meikle does horror/sci-fi so freaking well.  The spores will spread….  (This one is currently out of print. Go find a used copy, or message the author!)

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5. WE CAME BACK by PATRICK LACEY   Lacey’s deeply personal novel showcases his growing talent and dares you not to become a fan.

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4. AGENTS OF DREAMLAND by CAITLIN R. KIERNAN  I’ve never been so enthralled, yet so confused by a book in all my life. AoD is terrific horror/sci-fi madness.

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3. THE WARBLERS by AMBER FALLON   I read this just after reading Joe R. Lansdale’s THE BOTTOMS. Had you taken the name off the cover, I would have thought this was another one of his books.  Blew me away. Just the style and voice.

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2. CAVERN OF THE DAMNED by RUSSELL JAMES   I haven’t seen many people talking about this one, but if you miss Samhain Publishing or Leisure Books, you should buy this now. You will LOVE it. My favorite book from Russell James yet. And the most fun I had with horror this year.

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1. BONE WHITE by RONALD MALFI    Hands down my favorite read of the year. Malfi is one of THE best writers out there. Malfi casts his spell from the first page on and you will have no choice but to go up into these Alaskan hills…. Soooo good!
Honorable Mentions:
SYMBIOSIS by TIM CURRAN
THE BOULEVARD MONSTER by JEREMY HEPLER
FAIRY LIGHTS by EDWARD LORN
THE LUCKY ONES DIED FIRST by JACK BANTRY

Also,
You should read PAPERBACKS FROM HELL by GRADY HENDRIX (non-fiction) Excellent stuff, and it will make you seek out more books for your TBR pile.

PS: Most of my friends and followers may be surprised to find one of these authors on my list. I know. Haters gonna hate.  That said, if I read a book (all the way through, mind you) and I enjoy it, I’m going to say so.

Here’s to another great year of reading!

There are always disappointments and other good books that didn’t make the cut….

To see all the books I read  go to 2017 HERE  and 2018 HERE

#ShareTheHorror  #StayTrue #GrudgeFreeCommunity  #KeepItOnThePos  #RonaldMalfiFanClub  #BestOf2017

(Book Review) SHADOWS OVER MAIN STREET Vol. 2

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You know this place. Seems normal enough. But you know better, don’t you? You’ve heard rumors of strange histories. You’ve seen hints of dark deeds. Turns out you can go home again, and the shadows will be waiting for you.

Bram Stoker Award® nominated editors Doug Murano and D. Alexander Ward bring you the next installment of their best selling, critically acclaimed small-town Lovecraftian anthology series: Shadows Over Main Street, Volume 2. Within these pages, you’ll discover: * America’s pastime awakening dark secrets buried deep within the earth. * Vietnam War heroes who glimpse something worse than war and return home to discover a new kind of hell waiting for them. * The music of a generation—of many generations—revealed as something older, hungrier and more insidious than a bad acid trip. * A war-widow who rediscovers love and passion… only to cultivate the world’s end.

Featuring stories by: Joyce Carol Oates, Joe R. Lansdale, Gary A. Braunbeck, John F.D. Taff, Lucy A. Snyder, William Meikle, Ronald Malfi, Damien Angelica Walters, and others. With a foreword by Laird Barron and stunning illustrations by Luke Spooner.

Every turn you take leads back to Main Street. We’ve been waiting. Welcome home.

My review:

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My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Sometimes an anthology has that lure, that pull, that innate ability to sink hooks beneath your flesh without you realizing it. While there are plenty of good horror anthologies out there, it takes a lot for one to grab hold of me like SHADOWS OVER MAIN STREET (VOLUME 2). It can seriously take me all year to make my way through an entire anthology, especially ones with a specific theme. I get to the point that I no longer care about the theme and give up, even if I admire the authors. So I was pleasantly surprised by this one.

I’m a sucker for small-town tales. I’m growing an appreciation for the Lovecraftian realm in which these stories breathe and move, slithering tentacles across the brain, and welcoming you home with that gentle song from another world.

These are the ones that stood out for me:

“Shug”by John Taff – This one felt like a mix of Bradbury ‘s The Martian Chronicles and Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land. I wasn’t sure I liked it a few pages in, but it ended up being my favorite. Just a really well-told story that made its home beneath my skin.

“Something in the Water” by Douglas Wynn – This is the story that made me grab this anthology. I read a bit of Wynn’s behind-the-story post via Twitter and knew I had to read it. Watch your tongue when you come to Wynn’s little town. Loved it.

“Disintegration is Quite Painless” by Max Booth III – I’ve read a lot of Max’s larger works. For the most part, they haven’t been my cup of tea. They’ve been a bit too weird for my taste, but very well-written, and Booth’s talent has never been in question. I knew it was only a matter of time when he wrote something that would blow me away. This one is a traditional/straight-forward horror tale. If you love Stranger Things, you’re gonna enjoy the hell out of this one. The beginning was amazing, and even though the story went in a bunch of different directions, I loved each and every one. I can’t wait to get this version of MB3 in novel form.

“1570 KhZ” by Damien Walters – No surprise that the Queen of Short Stories delivers another gem. This one features a young girl that wants to help her father. He sits in a garage listening to a strange frequency that is shifting his moods. This one is great.

“Sunset on Mott Island”by Lucy Snyder – the opening story, Snyder’s piece subtly lures you in on the waves, while bringing on the impending doom. Charmingly cryptic to the end.

“Duck Hunt” by Joe Lansdale – A few of these have a rites-of-passage theme to them. I just enjoyed Lansdale’s take the best. Thought I knew where it was going, but I was wrong. Fantastic.

There were really only two or three stories I didn’t care for in here, but even those were well-written.

This is a very impressive collection for fans of Lovecraft and/or small-town horror.
Even with the couple of so-so stories,

I give SHADOWS OVER MAIN STREET (VOLUME 2)

5 stars!

View all my reviews

Get your copy here: SHADOWS OVER MAIN STREET Vol. 2

OCTOBER HOUSE: Some of my Favorite Halloween Reads

 

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There’s nothing us horror writers enjoy more than sharing the horror. We write because we fell in love with reading. We fell in love with stories that moved us, frightened us, aroused us, and made us say, “What the fuck?” Horror has it all. Good horror especially. Heart and soul, ghouls that take hearts and souls, love stories, lust stories, blood and rain (he, he, he) and all the guts, perseverance, and monsters and heroes you could ever want, or want to see bested.

Here’s a few of my favorite October reads ever, and a few other suggested titles, too.

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Ben Mears has returned to Jerusalem’s Lot in hopes that exploring the history of the Marsten House, an old mansion long the subject of rumor and speculation, will help him cast out his personal devils and provide inspiration for his new book. But when two young boys venture into the woods, and only one returns alive, Mears begins to realize that something sinister is at work—in fact, his hometown is under siege from forces of darkness far beyond his imagination. And only he, with a small group of allies, can hope to contain the evil that is growing within the borders of this small New England town.

With this, his second novel, Stephen King established himself as an indisputable master of American horror, able to transform the old conceits of the genre into something fresh and all the more frightening for taking place in a familiar, idyllic locale.

It all has to start somewhere…. My favorite book of all-time, STEPHEN KING’s ‘SALEM’s LOT.  I’ve read this four times (all in October).  You can do no better than this one.

Purchase here: ‘SALEM’S LOT

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The town of Stillwater has a very unwelcome resident. 

The town of Stillwater has been dying – the long and painful death of a town ravaged by floods and haunted by the ghosts of all who had lived there. Yet this most recent flood has brought something with it – a creature that nests among the good folks of Stillwater…and feeds off them. The children who haven’t disappeared whisper the same word – “vampire”. But they’re wrong. What has come to Stillwater is something much more horrific. 

Easily one of my other all-time favorites, Ronald Malfi delivers the perfect October concoction with his novel, THE NARROWS. If you’ve enjoyed his recent hits (BONE WHITE, LITTLE GIRLS, THE NIGHT PARADE), try this one for your next October read.

Purchase here: THE NARROWS

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“Hell House is the scariest haunted house novel ever written. It looms over the rest the way the mountains loom over the foothills.” — Stephen King

Rolf Rudolph Deutsch is going die. But when Deutsch, a wealthy magazine and newpaper publisher, starts thinking seriously about his impending death, he offers to pay a physicist and two mediums, one physical and one mental, $100,000 each to establish the facts of life after death.

Dr. Lionel Barrett, the physicist, accompanied by the mediums, travel to the Belasco House in Maine, which has been abandoned and sealed since 1949 after a decade of drug addiction, alcoholism, and debauchery. For one night, Barrett and his colleagues investigate the Belasco House and learn exactly why the townsfolk refer to it as the Hell House.

Okay, definitely one of the scariest books I’ve ever read. HELL HOUSE reads like a highbrow literature version of a Bentley Little book. Twisted, scary, and wonderfully written, Richard Matheson reset the true standard for haunted house tales.

Purchase here: HELL HOUSE

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The classic supernatural thriller by an author who helped define the genre

First published in 1959, Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House has been hailed as a perfect work of unnerving terror. It is the story of four seekers who arrive at a notoriously unfriendly pile called Hill House: Dr. Montague, an occult scholar looking for solid evidence of a “haunting”; Theodora, his lighthearted assistant; Eleanor, a friendless, fragile young woman well acquainted with poltergeists; and Luke, the future heir of Hill House. At first, their stay seems destined to be merely a spooky encounter with inexplicable phenomena. But Hill House is gathering its powers—and soon it will choose one of them to make its own.

My wife is currently reading this one for the first time. Jackson set the original standard for haunted house novels with this beauty. THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE has a creeping death type of vibe. By which I mean, it crawls under your skin and slowly pulls you down. Jackson succeeds without the gore and gruesome revelations of say, HELL HOUSE or THE SHINING, but hits with just as much impact.

Purchase here: THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE

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There are all kinds of legends about the forests of Central Pennsylvania, and in this sequel to DARK HOLLOW, the truth about those legends is finally revealed.

Halloween is coming, and a new haunted attraction is open for business in LeHorn’s Hollow. Folks will come from miles around to walk down the spooky trail and get scared witless. But there’s one thing the owners of the ghost walk haven’t counted on. There really is something waiting in the woods-a vast, ancient evil whose hunger threatens to consume all life on Earth. Soon, the unsuspecting customers will pay their money and get in line… to die. And only one man, occult detective Levi Stoltzfus, can save them and stop the evil before it is unleashed.

What’s better than a book set around a Halloween attraction?  Brina Keene’s GHOST WALK is a fun October ride with one of his best characters, Levi Stoltzfus.

Side rant here…. I am probably in the minority, but I prefer his Leisure book covers over the newer Deadite ones.  To me, the LB covers look more professional. The newer ones would actually deter me from picking up the books. A little too nasty for my taste. BUT each and every one of Keene’s novels are worthy of your time. Pick one up today!

Purchase here: GHOST WALK

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During the great depression, a small backwoods community in Iowa face even more difficult times than most, having to endure the slowly fading sanity of their leader, Reverend Joshua Miller. When it’s clear the man has slipped beyond the edge of reason and perhaps signed a deal with the devil, the citizens unite to stop him any way they can, breaking into the church to lash the reverend to his wooden alter cross then boarding up the windows and doors to leave him to fate and God’s judgment. The people of Oak Valley then abandoned their town to the cornfields and woods; ending the madness for what they hoped was forever.

They were wrong!

Seventy-four years later, the corn and trees have taken back the area and not much is left of the once thriving little community but Joshua Miller’s desecrated church still stands, and within its boarded up and sun-baked walls something that used to be a holy man waits for whoever is unfortunate enough to release him from his cross…

THE SCARECROW WILL WALK AT MIDNIGHT

One of my favorite books by Gord Rollo. This one is guaranteed to scratch your Halloween horror itch. Also, if you’re a fan of King’s IT, check out Rollo’s other offering, CRIMSON.

Purchase here: VALLEY OF THE SCARECROW 

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THE PAST NOT ONLY HAUNTS. IT HUNTS.

In a small, rural Arkansas town in the midst of World War II, hotel house detective George “Jojo” Walker wearily maintains the status quo in the wake of personal devastation. That status quo is disrupted when a hygiene picture roadshow rolls into town with a controversial program on display and curious motives in mind. What begins with a gruesome and impossible murder soon spirals into hallucinatory waking nightmares for Jojo—nightmares that converge with his reality and dredge up his painful, secret past. Black magic and a terrifying Luciferian carnival boil up to a surreal finale for the town of Litchfield, when truth itself unfurls and Jojo Walker is forced to face his own identity in ways he could never have expected.

Ed Kurtz delivered in last year’s THE RIB FROM WHICH I REMAKE THE WORLD. Fans of the classic Leisure Books Horror stories will mLOVE this one. If that’s you, make this your next buy.

Purchase here: THE RIB FROM WHICH I REMAKE THE WORLD 

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Another recent scare, DREAM WOODS, from author, Patrick Lacey, offers some great characters set in a Little-esque world. AND it’s just 99 cents!

Terror abounds!  A theme park setting is the perfect horror ride.

Purchase here: DREAM WOODS

 

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And  if you’ve read all these already, check out Sinister Grin Press for more. ALL of their eBook titles are on sale for $2.99 or less!

Check them out here: SINISTER GRIN PRESS 

 

Lastly, check out any of books here: GLENN ROLFE

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Happy reading!!!!\

 

(Review) BONE WHITE by Ronald Malfi

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A landscape of frozen darkness punctuated by grim, gray days.
The feeling like a buzz in your teeth.
The scrape of bone on bone. . .

Paul Gallo saw the report on the news: a mass murderer leading police to his victims’ graves, in remote Dread’s Hand, Alaska.

It’s not even a town; more like the bad memory of a town. The same bit of wilderness where his twin brother went missing a year ago. As the bodies are exhumed, Paul travels to Alaska to get closure and put his grief to rest.

But the mystery is only beginning. What Paul finds are superstitious locals who talk of the devil stealing souls, and a line of wooden crosses to keep what’s in the woods from coming out. He finds no closure because no one can explain exactly what happened to Danny.

And the more he searches for answers, the more he finds himself becoming part of the mystery. . .

 

MY REVIEW:

 

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My rating: 5 of 5 stars

“Like it was something real. Something out there in the woods with claws.”

Every time I sit down with a Ronald Malfi book, I’m reminded of why I want to be a writer. He reminds me of the power in the art. How words can come together to evoke visions and stir feelings, how characters can become flesh and blood on the page, and how a story can work its way into your bones. We expect that as readers, but as a writer, when we see it done so well, it ignites within us the reason we’re doing this in the first place.

“Snowflakes, like little filaments of pillow stuffing, floated about the atmosphere without ever touching the ground.”

Malfi is the master of description, often giving us subtle lines that flow so effortlessly we ride their waves between actions and dialog, thoughts and observations, trusting he’ll bring us to shore. And when our feet touch sand, the story is there, impossible to ignore, forget, or escape. In his latest effort, BONE WHITE, Malfi brings his entire bag of tricks and treats, delivering the kind of novel we (his fans) have come to expect.

“Despite the shroudlike fog that blocked out the sun, the thing’s shadow stretched like black taffy along the pavement behind it.”

The story of twin brothers, Paul and Danny Gallo, and a small, mysterious Alaskan town (Dread’s Hand), BONE WHITE unfurls at a perfect pace, digging its claws in and never letting you go. Things get off to a bang when resident, Joe Mallory, reappears at the local diner after months away, and confesses to a slew of murders. Detective Jill Ryerson arrives on the scene, doubting the seriousness of Mallory’s claims, but finds out the man speaks the truth. After the bodies are discovered, Paul Gallo flies to Alaska (via Maryland) to see if his brother, Danny, is among the victims. From there, Paul finds himself in Dread’s Hand, an unwanted stranger, asking too many questions and fumbling around in corner’s the town would prefer remained dark.

BONE WHITE might be my pick for Novel of the Year, it’s that freaking good. My favorite Malfi book since his tremendous FLOATING STAIRCASE, BONE WHITE needs to be on your To Be Read list, whether you’re a horror fan or not.

I give BONE WHITE 5 stars!

View all my reviews

 

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Ronald Malfi is the award-winning author of the novels Floating Staircase, Snow, The Ascent, and several others. Most recognized for his haunting, literary style and memorable characters, Malfi’s dark fiction has gained acceptance among readers of all genres. He currently lives along the Chesapeake Bay where he is at work on his next book.

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Bone White, Synopsis

  • File Size: 1616 KB
  • Print Length: 384 pages
  • Publisher: Kensington (July 25, 2017)
  • Publication Date: July 25, 2017
  • Sold by: Penguin Random House Publisher Services

A landscape of frozen darkness punctuated by grim, gray days.

The feeling like a buzz in your teeth.

The scrape of bone on bone. . .

Paul Gallo saw the report on the news: a mass murderer leading police to his victims’ graves, in remote Dread’s Hand, Alaska.

It’s not even a town; more like the bad memory of a town. The same bit of wilderness where his twin brother went missing a year ago. As the bodies are exhumed, Paul travels to Alaska to get closure and put his grief to rest.

But the mystery is only beginning. What Paul finds are superstitious locals who talk of the devil stealing souls, and a line of wooden crosses to keep what’s in the woods from coming out. He finds no closure because no one can explain exactly what happened to Danny.

And the more he searches for answers, the more he finds himself becoming part of the mystery. 

Praise for Ronald Malfi

“I thoroughly enjoyed this book. The setting, the words, the ending. Color me impressed.” –Melissa Reads on The Night Parade

“The Night Parade has a creepy vibe and some genuinely terrifying moments. I even teared up a time or two. It’s everything I look for in a great read.” – Frank Errington on The Night Parade

“One cannot help but think of writers like Peter Straub and Stephen King.”
—FearNet

“Malfi is a skillful storyteller.”—New York Journal of Books

“A complex and chilling tale….terrifying.”—Robert McCammon

“Malfi’s lyrical prose creates an atmosphere of eerie claustrophobia…haunting.”—Publishers Weekly

“A thrilling, edge-of-your-seat ride that should not be missed.”
Suspense Magazine

Purchase Links

Amazon


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If you are a blogger, author, or member of the media and you would like to feature Bone White or Ronald Malfi in a review or interview, please contact Erin Al-Mehairi, publicist, athookofabook@hotmail.com. Thanks!

TRICK OR TREAT: HALLOWEEN WORM (Original short story)

Halloween is just around the corner. One of the things I like to do is find creepy little short stories to swallow down between watching horror flicks and catching up on great horror books like John Everson’s THE PUMPKIN MAN or Bryan Smith’s ALL HALLOW’S DEAD

I was looking through my collections by various writers and picked four stories that I wanted to pass along to you. Each one will sneak under your flesh in their own loving, squirming way. From an author who goes somewhere he never should have, to a boy and his parent’s special house guest, to a reporter who finds out the truth about the Dalton Doll Company, and then to some kids who want to lose the weirdo their parents are making them bring trick or treating.

I love these stories so much.

Feel free to comment on these ones or make you own suggestions.

Recommended reading:

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“Best New Horror” by Joe Hill  (From 20th Century Ghosts)

“The Man Upstairs” by Ray Bradbury (From The October Country)

“The Harbinger” by Todd Keisling  (From Ugly Little Things Vol. One)

“The House on Cottage Lane” by Ronald Malfi  (Available for 99 cents from Amazon)

 

I also figured I’d share one of my own Halloween stories with you. A couple years ago, I put out my collection, SLUSH.  “Halloween Worm” is one of the last stories that made its way in. I’m glad it did. This is a fun little number. I hope you like it.

 

“Halloween Worm” was originally published in my short story collection, SLUSH. Copyright © Glenn Rolfe 2014

 

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Art by Tracy Hawkins

“Halloween Worm”

    “Eat shit, Keith!” I picked up my little sister’s Barney pillowcase and scavenged as much candy as I could see in the darkened dirt lot beneath my feet. Franky had insisted on not cutting through the field, but I knew it would get us back to my house in time to catch AMC’s annual showing of Halloween. The field skirted Paul’s Pick-A-Part, a sort of vehicular organ donor center two roads over from mine. Franky had warned me about it being too close to Holt Street and its number one bad boy, Keith Dennis, but I let my love for Michael Myers override the undercurrent of dread that flowed at the dumb ox’s name, and now, here we all are.

Keith Dennis was a bully in the purest sense. Ugly as a dog gone mad from rabies. His face, with its too wide nose, fat lips that clung like leeches to his mouth, and a bad acne scar that flared on his left cheek like some horrible explosion in the cosmos, looked pure mean. The guy had a natural born instinct to single out kids half his size, throw some dumb insults about how their friends are their butt-buddies, and a rotten gift that allowed him to take and break the amazing glow sword that you busted your butt making from pure ingenuity (something guys like Keith Dennis couldn’t spell, let alone appreciate) just because he’s an asshole.

“What’d you say to me you little shit?” Keith said. He held the broken handle of my sword, dropped his own bag of candy, and stepped forward.

My guts turned, my voice of reason whimpered I told you so, but as my eyes landed upon the now non-glowing plastic blade lying in the dirt behind this jerk, the part of my genetic make-up that got me in trouble with guys like Keith Dennis did the unthinkable. Next to one of the bite-sized Snickers bars that had escaped my candy sack, there was a smooth, oval rock the size of my fist. Before I had time to consider the consequences, I snatched the mini-boulder, jumped to my feet, and cracked Keith across the temple with it. He stumbled backward, dropped the handle of my broken sword, and held his head. A thin trickle of dark liquid seeped through his fingers.

I looked over at Franky whose eyes were as big and bright as the full moon over our heads, and said, “Run!”

The blood gushing from Keith’s head as he pulled his giant mitt away from the wound birthed an outright sense of oh shit-panic, and spurred my need to escape. The fluorescent light I’d carefully placed inside the plastic blade of my sword crunched beneath my sneakers. I grabbed Franky by his ten dollar Dracula cape, and made for the dull lights of Holt Street.

“Dan, Dan, shouldn’t we tell somebody to…I don’t know help him?” Franky’s voice never sounded so whiny.

We hit the pavement, our sneakers slapping as we moved toward the first house, Mrs. Bean’s. “Just shut up, Franky,” I said. “You want me to get in trouble?”

“No, but–”

Headlights cut the darkness as blue lights swirled to life.

    Oh shit, oh shit!

“Is that Dan Trask and Franky Taylor?”

Officer Gilchrist. Grade A hard ass, and all around fuck-hole.

He stepped out of the car, lights still whirling through the night, and walked our way as we stopped and tried to catch our breath.

“Where you boys coming from, tonight?”

    Think, think, think…

“They were with me. I fell back there by the lot, and they were running to get help.”

It was Keith, but he didn’t look…right.

“Ain’t that right, guys?” he said. Keith stepped up to my side, and placed one of his bear like arms around my shoulders.

Franky would have looked pale as the undead even without the make-up.

“Ah, yeah, we thought he was…hurt,” I managed. I felt Keith’s thick fingers press into my arm.

“Wanna tell me what you boys were doing down by Paul Meacham’s scrapyard?”

“Just kid’s stuff. Throwing rocks at the old beaters,” Keith said. “One bounced right back and hit me in the head. I got a little queasy when I saw the blood, but I’m okay.”

“I could bring you boys in tonight for throwin’ rocks down there,” Officer Gilchrist said.

He could, but he wouldn’t.

“I know Officer, but we didn’t break anything. Honest. We just wanna finish trick-or-      treating and get home for some scary movies. Please don’t tell my dad,” I said. I knew I sounded like a little wussy boy, but Keith’s story was better than mine. Besides, there was shame in being driven home in a cop car, but dealing with Keith Dennis, well, that was just a matter of manning up and taking what you got coming.

“All right, but if I catch you boys back down here tonight, you’re all going in.”

“Yes sir,” Keith and I said in unison. I could see a grin, a just you wait grin, dance onto his ugly face.

The big lug kept me muckled to his side as we watched Officer Gilchrist drive away.

“Hey Franky,” Keith said.

Poor Franky looked over with eyes that begged not to be hurt. “Yeah?”

“Get the fuck outta here. Me and your boyfriend got some man-to-man business to deal with.”

Franky’s eyes met mine, and I nodded. He didn’t deserve the beatdown, I did. The empathy in his pleading eyes was good enough for me.

Keith and I stood like best buds, butt-buddies as he would say. I watched Franky skulk down the sidewalk, his small shadow bouncing along after him beneath the streetlamps. The lump in my throat threatened to choke me.

Before I had a chance to try and talk my way out of the maximum pain sentence Keith Dennis loved to dole out to his victims, his McGregor’s swept my feet from under me as he yanked the hood of my sweatshirt backward. I slammed onto the sidewalk, the wind from my lungs released faster than a rocket pass from Peyton Manning.

“I got something special for you, Trask,” he said. He dropped one fat knee atop my chest and fished around in his Halloween sack. He pulled out an orange prescription bottle. He uncapped it and wiggled something into his hand.

My eyes landed on the thing that squirmed between his fingers. A worm.

“This was in my Candy Apple from Mr. Danson’s house. You know that crazy old fuck on Emerson Road? He denies it, but my Uncle Jerry told me that fucker’s a sex offender, a child rapist. I ain’t scared of no pederast, so I knocked on his door last year. He gave me a candy apple. The sick bastard grinned like he wanted to suck my stump right then and there.”

I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, and I never prayed so hard to see Officer Gilchrist in my whole life.

“I took that candy apple, opened it as I was walking down his shitty cat infested porch steps, and ate it on my way to the next house. I never looked back, but I could feel his creepy boy-fucking eyes on the back of my head.”

Keith looked like he was in the middle of a dream. I could see his eyes glisten in the street lights as he looked at the trees behind us.

“You see this fucking hole in my cheek?” he said. A more natural hatred fixed his eyes.

I did see the mark on his face. The one I thought was a bad acne scar.

“My ma took me to the emergency room that night.” He paused, a tear slipped from the corner of his right eye. He sucked in two quick breaths through his wide nose, trying to hide a hitch. “I could feel something tearing at the inside of my mouth all night. I was trying to enjoy Terror Train, but this, this thing, kept chewing at me. I thought it was some kind of bad canker. I tried to lie down and go to sleep, and I dozed right off with the screams coming from the TV. I opened my eyes an hour later, reached for my face and felt the blood…and then the hole. I didn’t bother looking at it. I just ran to my ma’s room and pulled her outta bed. She got us down to the ER where they got me right in.” He stopped, and stared at the thing between his fingers. It wiggled hello.

“This is what the Doc pulled outta my mouth that night, except, it wasn’t moving. He told me it was dead. I asked him if I could have it. I was gonna torture it, dead or not. But after they patched up my face, and I got home, it began to move. I wanted to crush it, spill its guts, but I had a thought. I was gonna get that fucking pervert. I knew it was him.”

Captivated by his story, I couldn’t remember my own fear. His cheek was still discolored, but you couldn’t tell it had ever had a hole in it.

He grabbed me by the front of my sweatshirt with his free hand. My fear returned in spades.

   Oh God, don’t let him make me eat that thing…

“Stop acting like a queer,” he said. He dropped the worm back into the little orange pill bottle and capped it. “That old man’s getting his payback, and you’re gonna help me.”

“What? Why me?”

He let go of my sweatshirt and stood back up. “Cuz I ain’t got anybody else. I got no real friends. And you owe me for hitting me with that goddam rock.”

He had me there.

“So, we doing this now?” I said.

“Fucking right we are.”

We set out. Neither of us said another word until we reached Emerson Road.

Mr. Danson’s house and its cat littered porch, sat in complete darkness. By way of bad omen, the street lamp next to his pervert shack went out.

We both looked up.

“Fuck it,” Keith said. “Come on. He’s getting his little friend back whether he wants it or not.”

I followed. Our candy sacks had been left behind. Keith carried the little prescription bottle with the odd cheek-eating worm in his hand as he led the way around the abandoned house next to Danson’s and into the old man’s backyard.

The night seemed dead: no cars, no children, and no wind. The hairs stiffened on the back of my neck. I wondered if Mr. Danson was waiting for us.

“Hold this,” Keith said. He handed me the bottle with the awful Halloween worm.

I tried to protest, but he grunted and glared at me. I took the little orange bottle with the white label.

“I’m going to walk around front and knock on his door.”

“What?” I said, louder than I meant to.

“Shhh. He’s gonna open up just like last year, and I’m gonna slam his ass to the ground. Once I rough him up a little, I’m gonna let you in the back. Then we’ll give him what’s his.”

It was a shit plan–a damn, shitty plan–but he was up and off before I could say so. I listened, hearing his footsteps around the house, crunching leaves the old man hadn’t cared to rake from under the tree hanging over the corner of his house like some sort of giant spider. After a few seconds, I heard Keith knock.

This is stupid. This is really, really stupid. I should just drop this creepy thing and go home.

“You son of bitch,” I heard Mr. Danson’s high-pitch voice yell.

There was a scuffle. I could hear feet shuffling, a door banging, and various grunts and curse words from both of them. And then, the door slammed shut.

Who won?

 Run. The good voice of reason screamed at me.

Instead, I waited. This silence wasn’t golden, but it was more like pure hell on a stick, dripping red with the blood of innocence gone wrong. Still, I, we waited… just me and the evil Halloween worm. What a pair!

The latch on the back door rattled and intruded on my thoughts. My body hair reached for the radio airwaves above. I held my breath.

The back door swung open.

“C’mon, man,” Keith said. He was breathing heavy.

A small burst of fireworks set off over my elated fears. A small victory.

“I knocked that geriatric pervert out with his own cane,” he said as I slipped into the dark hallway behind him. “He managed to whack me in the same spot you did, but all it did was piss me off. I jumped him, pinned him to the ground, and threw a couple solid punches into his old man face. Once I beat the fight out of him, I took his cane and whacked him good over the head with it.”

  Jesus, I thought. Lucky if he didn’t kill him. I prayed that the guy–pervert or not–was still alive. Sure enough, there he lay sprawled out on a matted, forest green rug. He had a giant red mark on his forehead. Two of his dozen cats–one white, one black–sat mewling by his head as if to stir him to awake.

The living room of his home smelled like cat piss and shit, mixed with cigarettes and hamburger grease. At least six other cats strutted around and licked themselves, indifferent to the two newcomers standing in the room. The little brown couch against the wall opposite the front door was torn to shit. Stuffing spilled out of it like the guts of Braveheart. I looked around and saw a wooden baseball bat leaning against a metal rack between the door and small TV stand. Atop the metal rack was a fish tank. It was filled with dirt instead of water. Ant farm? More likely a worm farm. An evil cheek-eating worm farm.

“Okay, give me the worm,” Keith said.

“Gladly.”

“All right you fucking pederast bastard, time to take your medicine,” he said. Keith popped off the white cap, squeezed the old man’s cheek, and opened his toothless mouth. Mr. Danson looked like a dying fish. Keith jiggled the orange bottle directly over the open 0.

I watched the worm drop in and disappear. Mr. Danson jerked and gagged. Keith clamped his hands over the old man’s maw.

“What are you doing?” I said. Mr. Danson’s eyes shot open. He squirmed and writhed behind Keith’s hand, gagging all the while.

“Shut up, Trask,” Keith barked. He turned back to Mr. Danson. “How do you like it you fucking perv?”

Mr. Danson’s eyes were wild. He brought his right hand up to Keith’s face. I couldn’t do anything but watch as the old man drove his thumb through Keith’s left eye.

Keith’s scream devoured the silence. He flailed at Mr. Danson. Keith’s arms looked like one of those crazy daisy lawn toys that shook every which way.

Mr. Danson’s thumb jabbed over and over into Keith’s ruined eye. The sick man’s gaze sparkled with madness. He was delirious with a wicked joy. I should stop this. I should kick him in the head, or smash him in the face with something…I stumbled backward plopping down on the gut spewing couch, playing witness to this horror. Keith, reaching for his eye, fell off the crazy old man.

Mr. Danson stood. My eyes caught the tenting in the front of his sweatpants. Keith rolled back and forth on the carpet and held both hands over the latest damage inflicted by this strange man.

“You boys should have stayed home tonight,” Mr. Danson said. “Hold still, you cry baby faggot,” he said. He placed his boot on Keith’s ankle and leaned forward. “I said, hold still, faggot!”

“Arrrgggh!” Keith’s pain cut deep into my heart.

Mr. Danson moved up to Keith’s head, stepping on various parts of the bully on the floor along the way. He turned his devil eyes to me. “This the kind of company you keep, boy?”

I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe.

He stood over Keith, and looked down upon him with disgust. “I should pull out your dirty little thingy and give it a good tug. Would you like that? Huh?” he said, pushing the toe of his boot down on Keith’s hand-covered eye. There was blood all over Keith’s face and hands. “Yeah, I bet you would.” Mr. Danson’s leer returned to me. “How about you? You a faggot, boy? You want a little sweet tug from an old pro?”

“You sick son of a bitch,” I cried out.

His smile dropped, but my balls on the other hand flew north for the winter, never to be seen again.

“Well,” he said. He took a step back, and looked down at Keith. “Looks like I got another date tonight, boy. Sorry. Say hello to heaven for me.” With that Mr. Danson raised one booted foot and crashed it down like a flash of lightening, striking once, twice, three times before he dropped to his knees, and hunched over Keith’s broken face. Keith wasn’t moving. Mr. Danson bent down to Keith’s lips. I thought he was going to kiss him. Instead, Mr. Danson spat the worm directly into the Keith’s bloody mouth.

His head turned to me, like a wolf spotting fresh prey.

I gasped, and scrambled to my feet. Mr. Danson didn’t bother to get up, he just came crawling on all fours.

Out of pure reflex I stepped forward like this was kickball, and caught him square in the face.

He sat up and cried out.

Instinct screamed at me to keep on him, not to let up.

Before I had time to act, Mr. Danson sprung at me. His fingers climbed into my mouth like a creepy-crawly in the night, and yanked in opposite directions. My lips felt like they could split at any second; his calloused fingers tasted as bad as the bottom of our garbage can smelled. The rank image of squirming maggots and slimy leftovers shuddered through me. I screamed and pushed back against my perverted attacker with all of my strength.

“Oooh, a fighter, heh?”

The bastard stood. I continued to drive us backwards. His fingers slid from my mouth and journeyed down my chest to my waist.

We hit something on the floor and tumbled down together. I heard a loud, thick crack. Mr. Danson groaned and fell silent. I landed atop of him. I could feel the hard stick in his pants go limp beneath my ass. Then the dirt began to fall.

“…ohh…huh?” he moaned.

The dirt–more like a damp soil–piled up on my shoulders, my thighs, and my forearms. The earthly smell was welcomed compared to the rest of the piss-soaked house.

“My…my…babies…”

At first, I wasn’t sure what the hell he was talking about. I figured he’d hit his head too hard and was having some kind of dizzy vision. Then I remembered the cracked glass, the dirt, the ant farm…the worm farm.

I bolted upright and swiped at the dark clumps of soil attached to me. I saw the creatures hidden within the dirt begin to squiggle just before I felt the first bite. I jerked my forearm and barked out a sharp cry. I swatted the filth and its hungry inhabitant from my skin. A flap of flesh where the thing had bitten me drooled blood and a snot-like residue. Another pinch sunk into my thigh, followed by another and another. Behind me, Mr. Danson began yelping. I turned and saw more of the worms dig into his wrinkled flesh. One was burrowing into the side of his neck, while another turned up toward his eye. Even as one sank its strangely-fanged maw into my shoulder, my gaze locked on Mr. Danson’s right eye and one of his “babies” with the evil intentions.

The splultch sound of the worm latching its fangs into his eyeball was followed by Mr. Danson’s high-pitched shriek.

Eye for an eye.

I shot up to my feet and swatted at every inch of my body I could reach. In my mind’s eye, I saw millions of the tiny beasts trying to devour me. I managed to clear the one from my shoulder, and the ones that were still on my arms and thighs. I tap-danced away from the rug at my feet and the thirty to forty gross, pale worms writhing around on the floor. Mr. Danson flailed and flopped like a giant fish pulled from the sea.

Keith was silent. His body still.

“No, Keith.”

Two of the pale worms were trying to bite through Keith’s jeans. I knelt down and whacked them from his pant leg. His chest did not rise or fall.

“Keith?” I took his head in my hands and slapped him hard across the face. “Keith!”

I jumped at the dirty, yellowed fingernails that dug into the side of my neck. I shrugged him off.

“You did this! You did this!” Mr. Danson’s closed and tattered eye leaked the odd mix of blood and slime down his cheek. His clawed hands reached out for me. I stood, and spotted the baseball bat by the door.

“You won’t…you…you…”

I stepped over Keith and gripped the bat.

Mr. Danson gave out one last ear-piercing squawk before I planted the bat down upon the center of his forehead. He dropped to the floor and lay across Keith’s legs. The worms went to work on his exposed flesh.

I stood still, the bat gripped in my hands and held out toward the perverted worm meal like a ninja warrior from one of the games Franky always liked to play on his Xbox. I looked at Keith. I was pretty sure he was dead.

After a moment’s hesitation, I bolted out the door, the murder weapon (I was certain that my strike had killed the old man) in hand, and ran out into the cold, dark night. Halfway home, I tossed the bat into a thicket of woods near the end of my street. My lungs, my gums, my throat, all burned. Still, I ran. I pumped and pumped my legs, and propelled my body onward, away.

I stumbled into my backyard. The site of our back porch and my dad’s trusty grill welcomed me. I dropped to my knees and flopped down on my butt. Keith Dennis may have been a jerk, but he deserved a better end than the one he got. Mr. Danson, however, earned every last nibble that he had coming from his Halloween worms.

I spat down at the yellowed grass between my legs. Try as I might, I could not rid my mouth of the taste left behind from the nasty pervert’s grimy fingers. I brought my knees up, and reached around and locked my fingers together. I stared toward the woods down the street. Would Officer Gilchrist know I had been there, too? When he found Mr. Danson and Keith Dennis, would he know that a third person had been involved? Would he find the bat?

I felt the urge to seek out the weapon and toss it into the Kennebec River. My gaze dropped to the wet wound on my forearm where one of the worms had bit me. How much could one worm eat? How much of Mr. Danson could thirty or forty of them eat? Would there be anything left?

    Would they finish Keith, as well?

My face refused to show it, but inside, I smiled when I thought about the conviction of the school bully. It may have killed him, but like a great warrior, Keith Dennis got his revenge.

THE END

(Review) THE NIGHT PARADE by Ronald Malfi

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The Night Parade by Ronald Malfi

Kensington Horror

First the birds disappeared.
Then the insects took over.
Then the madness began . . .

They call it Wanderer’s Folly–a disease of delusions, of daydreams and nightmares. A plague threatening to wipe out the human race.

After two years of creeping decay, David Arlen woke up one morning thinking that the worst was over. By midnight, he’s bleeding and terrified, his wife is dead, and he’s on the run in a stolen car with his eight-year-old daughter, who may be the key to a cure.

Ellie is a special girl. Deep. Insightful. And she knows David is lying to her. Lying about her mother. Lying about what they’re running from. And lying about what he sees when he takes his eyes off the road . . .

REVIEW by Glenn Rolfe

Author, Ronald Mafli (Little Girls and Floating Staircase), delivers in his new novel, The Night Parade. In this story, Malfi unleashes the next great plague upon humanity– Wanderer’s Folly. You daydream, you forget, you see things, until you finally lose it. Some go screaming, some jump to their death, and some wander into a fiery demise. No one knows how it’s spread or why some contract it while others don’t, but one thing is certain—it’s getting worse.

It’s a story that’s been told before, but as with all familiar tropes of fiction, it is the author’s voice that provides the melody over these familiar chords that make it something new, something special. I’ve been a huge fan of Malfi since reading his novel, Snow, and that awe, that amazement over his talent I felt then grows with each novel. The Night Parade is another fine example of his incomparable grasp on storytelling.

This is a beautiful story of a man named David, and his daughter, Ellie, as they struggle with all that has just happened in their world. David has lost his wife and knows that he must do whatever he can to keep his daughter safe. Escaping into the night, they hit the highway, leaving what’s left of their quarantined town behind.

I’m not going to tell you the story. I want you to enjoy the ride yourself. Let me just say that Malfi’s ability to craft these amazing stories and characters in such tight fashion, where you breeze through nearly four-hundred pages like it was a two-hundred-page book is astonishing and wonderful. You don’t want it to end. You want it to stay a little longer, to linger, so you can wrap up in the magic and keep the cold, harsh world at bay. Yeah, even if the story is about a deadly plague. That’s a testament to how good this guys is.

I loved this book. Definitely in my Top 5 of 2016.

I give The Night Parade 5 stars!

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Ronald Malfi, Biography

Ronald Malfi is an award-winning author of many novels and novellas in the horror, mystery, and thriller categories from various publishers, including The Night Parade, this summer’s 2016 release from Kensington.

In 2009, his crime drama, Shamrock Alley, won a Silver IPPY Award. In 2011, his ghost story/mystery novel, Floating Staircase, was a finalist for the Horror Writers Association Bram Stoker Award for best novel, a Gold IPPY Award for best horror novel, and the Vincent Preis International Horror Award. His novel Cradle Lake garnered him the Benjamin Franklin Independent Book Award (silver) in 2014. December Park, his epic childhood story, won the Beverly Hills International Book Award for suspense in 2015.

Most recognized for his haunting, literary style and memorable characters, Malfi’s dark fiction has gained acceptance among readers of all genres.

He was born in Brooklyn, New York in 1977, and eventually relocated to the Chesapeake Bay area, where he currently resides with his wife and two children.

Visit with Ronald Malfi on Facebook, Twitter (@RonaldMalfi), or at http://www.ronmalfi.com.

Praise for Ronald Malfi

“I thoroughly enjoyed this book. The setting, the words, the ending. Color me impressed.” –Melissa Reads on The Night Parade

“The Night Parade has a creepy vibe and some genuinely terrifying moments. I even teared up a time or two. It’s everything I look for in a great read.” – Frank Errington on The Night Parade

“One cannot help but think of writers like Peter Straub and Stephen King.”
—FearNet

“Malfi is a skillful storyteller.”—New York Journal of Books

“A complex and chilling tale….terrifying.”—Robert McCammon

“Malfi’s lyrical prose creates an atmosphere of eerie claustrophobia…haunting.”—Publishers Weekly

“A thrilling, edge-of-your-seat ride that should not be missed.”
Suspense Magazine

Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Want to feature this book/author?

If you are a blogger, author, or member of the media and you would like to feature The Night Parade or Ronald Malfi in a review or interview, please contact Erin Al-Mehairi, publicist, at hookofabook@hotmail.com. Thanks!

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The Night Parade tour graphic v2 (2).jpeg