Get Rolfed Update City: Exclusive eBooks, Patreon, Limited Editions, Flame Tree, and more…

_A vital part of this generation._ - Btrian Keene

Are you ready to Get Rolfed?

I’m busy writing my first book for my new publisher (Flame Tree Press) and will spend the rest of my time this year between my new Leisure Time with Glenn Rolfe column over at Cedar Hollow Horror Reviews (covering Leisure Books Horror novels), helping launch CELESTIAL SEEPAGE by Brian Fatah Steele (Alien Agenda Publishing), continuing work on SURVIVE WITH ME (the AAP charity anthology), and finishing up the follow-ups to BOOM TOWN  and BLOOD AND RAIN.

The Flame Tree book will be out next year, and the BOOM TOWN  follow-up would be released at the end of this year, at the earliest. In the meantime, you can get some fresh work from me for super cheap on a monthly basis….How? Let me tell you.  In March, I launched my Patreon page and the Get Rolfed Short Story Series.  Every month, Patrons receive a new eBook of that month’s short story.

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March

 

 

 

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April

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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May

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SOMETHING IN THE GROOVE

 

June

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In addition to the exclusive eBooks, Patrons get behind the scenes looks at my works in progress, early cover reveals, and essays on writing/publishing.  That’s a lot of bang for a couple bucks—just  $2 a month.

$5 Patrons get all that, plus eBook and signed paperback copies of all my future releases (US and CA residents only).

www.patreon.com/getrolfed

 

There should be a new Limited Edition Hardcover copy of my last book, THE WINDOW, coming in July.   Stay tuned for that official announcement.

Thank you guys for your patience, your constant support, and your time.  Hopefully, all this 2019 work will lead to a great 2020!

Cheers!

-GR

 

Barnes and Noble and my Land of Bones

 

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Today, I had my second book signing event at Barnes & Noble here at home (Augusta, Maine).  I wanted to thank the fantastic staff for having me and treating me so well. I also wanted to thank the friends and family that showed up, along with the great folks that just wandered over to ask about the book and chat horror with me.

Sales for my latest, LAND OF BONES,  were terrific, and hopefully, I made a few new fans.

Below are a few shots taken by my co-worker, Virginia.

If you haven’t picked up a copy of LAND OF BONES yet, please take a look and consider grabbing one for you or a friend. Purchase here: LAND OF BONES

Can’t wait to do this again! (Maybe closer to Halloween after my next novel, THE WINDOW, is released)

Stay tuned!

 

And this photo was taken by my daughter, Ruby.

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It’s my birthday! Have a book on me.

It’s my 40th birthday, and I want YOU to get the presents…
These titles are all on KU, but today only, you can get Blood and Rain and The Haunted Halls for just 99 cents each, or grab copies of Becoming, Slush, and Out of Range for FREE!
Here are the link to each title:
Thanks for downloading and reading.  And reviewing, if you feel compelled to do so.
#ShareTheHorror #ScarySaturdays #HorrorFiction

(Review) BONE CHIMES by Kristopher Rufty

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A community where the mortgage is paid with blood. A man with an unhealthy devotion to his couch. A death machine that kills whoever its owner wants. A woman escapes one nightmare to find herself in another living hell. A boy learns more about his father than he ever wanted to know. Bone Chimes, the first collection from Kristopher Rufty, features nine demented tales, including The Night Everything Changed, the prelude to The Lurkers.

(This title is available in print, eBook, and for KINDLE UNLIMITED)

My Review:

Bone ChimesBone Chimes by Kristopher Rufty

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Short story collections tend to take me a while to get through. I like to read a few at a time, usually between books or novellas.
BONE CHIMES from Kristopher Rufty, a short-short story collection (9 in all), was a lot of fun. There is plenty of awesomeness. I had a great time with the overall collection.

My favorites:
“The Chomper”- A very Bentley Little -type tale of a couple who didn’t believe the fine print. In order to buy the house, a sacrifice must be made monthly. Great one. 5 stars
“Love Seat” I was not prepared for this one. A way out there story of a man and his special one….the love seat. Fucked up, but great. 5 stars
“Something Out There” A good werewolf story. 4 stars
“Black Garbage Bags” I loved this one, but felt like it should have end a few pages sooner. I didn’t like the ending. 4 stars
“Gearhart’s Wife” My favorite of the bunch. Starts off like a a nice, fan-meets-hero kind of story, then it gets to the fun, twisted part. One of the character’s names is Tobe, the director in the story (Gearhart) made a film called, “A Georgia Battle-Axe Massacre”–I was totally feeling the Hooper vibe from about the halfway point on. (Though in the notes, Rufty says it was inspired with a more John Carpenter deal in mind).
“The Night Everything Changed” This one was free forever at the Samhain site. Sadly, I never did get around to reading it, but it is good. Now I have to dig out THE LURKERS! 5 stars

The other couple of stories didn’t work so well for me, but the ones that did were fantastic.

Overall, I give BONE CHIMES 4 stars!

View all my reviews

 

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Kristopher Rufty lives in North Carolina with his wife, three children, and pets. He’s written numerous books, including The Vampire of Plainfield, Jagger, The Lurkers, The Skin Show, Pillowface, and more. If he goes more than two days without writing, he becomes very irritable and hard to be around, which is why he’s often sent to his desk without supper.

For more about Kristopher Rufty, please visit his Website http://www.lastkristontheleft.blogspot.com

He can be found on Facebook and Twitter as well.

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

Update City: Let’s Get, Let’s Get, Let’s #GetRolfed

CHASING GHOSTS at Amazon.com PURCHASE NOW

CHASING GHOSTS at Amazon.UK    PURCHASE NOW

THE HAUNTED HALLS at Amazon.com  PURCHASE NOW

THE HAUNTED HALLS at Amazon.UK  PURCHASE NOW

If you’ve never been Rolfed before, September is the best time to acclimate yourself. August 1st saw the release of my Laymon-esque effort, CHASING GHOSTS (Sinister Grin Press), and this weekend (Spetember 3rd) offers those of you new to the Rolfe universe, a chance to own my first novel, THE HAUNTED HALLS (Matt Shaw Publications). There will be a Facebook Release Party for THE HAUNTED HALLS Friday. Stay tuned for details.

Z-Dubz over at THE EYES OF MADNESS coined the phrase, #GetRolfed  We’re hoping it catches on.

For those of you new to my work, I have three novellas with Samhain Publishing (Abram’s Bridge, Boom Town, and Things We Fear). They are also available in a collected book called, WHERE NIGHTMARES BEGIN (also from Samhain).  These three novellas find me branching my horror out into the edge of mystery, sci-fi, and psychological horror, but I’ve always had a thing for the Laymons, Keenes, and Ketchums of the world. If you read my werewolf novel, BLOOD and RAIN, you got a hint at my darker side. With CHASING GHOSTS, you got a full on kick to the teeth (Read the latest review HERE). And if you think that was rough you will be begging for mercy with THE HAUNTED HALLS. It’s my first novel,. It was originally self-published in serial format, then released by James Ward Kirk Publishing in 2014. I signed on with Samhain and they offered to republish it. When Samhain announced that they were closing their doors (which they later decided not to do), I got the rights for the novel back. Within days of getting the rights back, I signed an exclusive eBook contract for it with British Horror master, Matt Shaw. There’s a reason this novel found a home with Mr. Shaw–it is brutal and pulls no punches.  I’m super excited to see it coming back out and can’t wait to see what people think. An audio version will follow, narrated by the talented Joe Hempel (Voice of Joey) who did my audio book of SLUSH. Joe has also recently been busy with Adam Cesare and Mercedes Yardley. Print rights for the book are being shopped around. hopefully, we’ll find a happy home.

Looking ahead, I will have another 99 cent set of short stories for you guys before the end of the year. The stories included will be “The Death Wish” and “One of These Things…” along with a surprise that I can’t mention yet.

My next two novels, WINDOW and WAITING FOR DARKNESS (aka the sequel to Blood and Rain) will hopefully see the light of day before the end of 2017 or early 2018 at the latest. I think these are my strongest two novels to date and can’t wait to share them with you all. I’ll keep you posted.

As for now, I’ll be pushing these two latest piece, both of which I am hugely proud of, and I look forward to chatting with you guys soon.

Keep up to date with all my latest releases by following my Amazon Author page HERE

Stay tuned!

-GR

 

 

 

 

(Share the Horror Interview) David Bernstein stops in to discuss a Mixed Bag of Blood and more

david bernstein

David Bernstein is one of the hardest working, ass kicking, most likeable horror authors in our business. He’s armed with a crazy amount of originality and fearlessness. He’s uber-talented and more motivated by his craft than anyone I know.

His latest release, his short story collection, A Mixed Bag of Blood (Sinister Grin Press, 2016), is an excellent collection and perfect platform to showcase his immense talents and wild imagination. Check out my review:  A MIXED BAG OF BLOOD

We recently got a chance to chat…check it out.

 

Glenn Rolfe: Hey David, thanks for doing this.

Let’s start off with A Mixed Bag of Blood. Great title and totally appropriate. You bring the crimson pain when you need to, and I love that these stories vary from one another quite a bit. A truly nice mix.  What got you wanting to do the collection? Were these tales hanging around or did you pound out 10 shorts with this in mind?  

DAVID BERNSTEIN:  The collection came about after John Foley—the short fiction and novella acquisitions editor for Thunderstorm Books at the time—contacted me. He’d read some of my work and asked if I had a novella or enough short stories to put together a collection for possible publication with Thunderstorm Books. Since I had a number of previously published shorts over the years, many having only seen print before the e-book explosion, I put together the collection. I purposely wanted something that might appeal to a wide audience. Something for everyone. They liked it and I was thrilled to get my stories out there and published with such a great company. Then, Sinister Grin Press published the paperback and e-book and added an introduction by Kristopher Rufty. Both covers complement each other wonderfully too!

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GR: I loved a number of them. Eaten Un-Alive and Samurai Zombie Killer come to mind. Can you take me through those two a bit?  What inspired them, what past mind warps may have stuck them in that brain of yours? 

DB:: Eaten Un-Alive had been sitting on my computer’s hard drive for four years before it finally found a home in Scarlett Galeon’s anthology Dead Harvest. I had written it at a time when the zombie genre was exploding. I wrote and published a number of zombie tales and wanted to mix up genres. What if vampires existed and a zombie apocalypse wiped out their food supply? But I had nowhere to publish it so it sat collecting dust. Anthologies either wanted zombie-only tales or vampire-only tales or no zombies, vampires, or werewolves at all, so it sat. Then one day I was contacted by Mark Parker who was putting together the excellent Dead Harvest Anthology, and I sent him Eaten Un-Alive since it takes place in the country. Lucky for me he liked it so it finally found a home.

As far as Samuari Zombie Killer . . . I’ve always loved watching Kung Fu movies—the Shaw Brothers films being my favorite—and ninja movies like Revenge of the Ninja, Prey for Death, and American Ninja. I also studied martial arts for years—Karate, Aikido, Kung Fu, and Tai Chi. After writing a number of “regular” zombie stories I came across an anthology call looking for historical zombie stories. So I started with a Samurai and that’s how the story came to be.

GR: Were there any specific collection by another author that you love? And maybe you can give us some of your favorite short stories by other authors.  

DB: I’ve read so many anthologies over the years it’s really difficult to say. I would read any antho or short story collection that contained stories from Leisure authors. Besides that, I think some of my favorites are the Dark Delicacies anthologies, anything by King. I studied Thomas Mann, Raymond Carver, Phillip Roth and a slew of others. As an English major, I read a ton of short stories.

GR: You work for so many publishers. How does Sinister Grin compare to the others. Is there anything they do specifically that makes you smile when you get to work with them?  

DB: I consider myself very lucky. I haven’t had a bad situation with a publisher yet. Well, the Samhain thing is happening, but it’s too early to really go one way or another with that. As far as Sinister Grin, they’ve been all I could ask for and more. They are so accommodating. Communication is super fast. They make sure the author is not just satisfied but happy and fulfilled. They really make me feel like they want me with them. Their editing is wonderful and their artwork is top-notch quality. I’d say if someone has the chance to work with them, go for it. You will thank me later.

GR: I interviewed Krist Rufty. Even he is intimidated by your massive output.  That’s some serious writing machine shit. What is your typical work week like when it comes to writing and work. Do you go to the day job and then hit the notebook after dinner? Does Sandy get you at knife point and demand you get to it?  

DB: I have my day job Mon-Fri, and I’m fortunate that I can write a lot during it. I also write at home before work, but not as much as I used to since I can write at work. I get home around 12:15 a.m. so I watch TV and spend time with Sandy then. I don’t write on weekends except for maybe a little on Sunday morning. I was struggling for a while a few months ago. My output was small. I spent time writing short stories for anthos and after seeing A Mixed Bag of Blood come to fruition it got my juices flowing again. Sandy has been super supportive, always making sure I get my writing done, and she always makes sure to proofread and edit my work. Damn I scored big in the partner department!

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GR:I’m working my way (slowly) through your back catalog (which sounds funny since you haven’t been writing all that long). Goblins really stands out for me. Like your short stories, the characters are engaging instantly, and your imagination, man, it’s impressive. Where did Goblins come from and how much frigging fun was this one to write?  

DB: One day I got the idea that I wanted to write a book about trolls or goblins, but not in the typical fantasy genre. I’ve always loved Dungeons and Dragons books, games and movies, as well as other fantasy novels—Drizzt books being my favorite. So let’s use traditional fantasy creatures in a strictly horror novel. I wrote a synopsis involving a troll but it was all over the place and complicated, so I moved on to Goblins. I wanted to write something scary involving fierce, small creatures. Nasty critters. But how to make it different? I’ve always loved the whole Roanoke story and figured hey, why not go there? So I did some investigating and what would you know—it was goblins that caused all the chaos! With Goblins I decided it was going to be simply a fun, gory monster book and I hope I succeeded at that!

GR: Out of the works you have out there right now, do you appreciate or have a warm fuzzy feeling for one or two more than the others? Obviously, you love them all, but is there a couple that make you smile wide? 

witch-island

DB: I love all my children equally! But if I was forced to choose . . . I’d say Amongst the Dead and Witch Island. Amongst the Dead because it’s a coming of age tale and an adventure. I love those types of tales best. I really connected with the main character Riley. Witch Island because I love the slasher genre and it entails a mix of shows I watch. Witch Island is like Pretty Little Liars meets Friday the 13th meets Fallen. I could sit and watch the most simplistic slasher film and never be bored. It was a lot of fun to write.

GR: I will be attending Scares That Care III with you and some of our Samhain brethren in July. That should be a blast. Anything you’re looking forward to there? Anyone you can’t wait to meet? 

DB: I’m truly looking forward to meeting readers and meeting up with friends. Last year was a lot of fun. It’s great just talking with everyone. Whenever I get together with like-minded writers anything can happen and the fun never stops—until Sunday. Then it’s like a tire deflating. Ugh, the ride home. But I’m looking forward to meeting so many of the guests, including William Zabka, William B. Davis, and Bob Gunton to name a few.

GR: Obviously we’re on a wait and see mission with The Blue Demon…we won’t go there. What else is in the pipeline right now?  

DB: Let’s hope that goes well for us. Moving on . . . Episodes of Violence is a novel coming out from Sinister Grin Press. It’s a revenge tale that deals with a group of really bad teens that have turned mailbox baseball into human baseball as they drive around with machetes, bats, axes, crossbows, etc. trying to take out joggers, bicyclists, and the like. Then there’s Retch coming from Bizarro Pulp Press, a novella about a man who is cursed to puke every time he has sex. The Sludge is a long novella coming from Great Old Ones Publishing. It’s B-movie material and involves a bank robbery, campers, a National Forest in Montana, toxic waste being dumped, and a monster. It’s got everything.

GR:Thanks again for sitting down with me, sir.

DB: It was my pleasure.

 

A Mixed Bag of Blood synopsis

  • Print Length: 86 pages
  • Publisher: Sinister Grin Press
  • Publication Date: March 1, 2016

From a man seeking vengeance for a dead loved one, to a monster lodged in a person’s nose, to starving vampires and samurai battling zombies, a bully meeting his gruesome demise, along with prostitutes being sacrificed, a boy who refuses to stop swearing, and the consequences of one man’s night of unprotected sex comes a dark and disturbing collection of sinister tales filled with dread, bloodshed, humor and the bizarre.

This is a Mixed Bag of Blood.

Biography of David Bernstein

David Bernstein is originally from a small town in Upstate New York called Salisbury Mills. He now resides in NYC and misses being surrounded by chainsaw-wielding maniacs and wild backwoods people that like to eat raw human flesh. He’s grown used to the city, though hiding bodies is much harder there. He is the author of Amongst the Dead, Damaged Souls, The Tree Man, Witch Island, Relic of Death, Apartment 7C and the forthcoming Episodes of Violence. David writes all kinds of horror, from hair-raising ghost stories to gore-filled slashers and apocalyptic tales of terror. He loves hearing from his readers. You can reach him on Facebook, at www.facebook.com/david.bernstein.3. Visit him at his website: davidbernsteinauthor.blogspot.com email dbern77@hotmail.com, or on Twitter at @Bernsteinauthor.

 

Praise for A Mixed Bag of Blood

 

“Dave Bernstein let his mind wander and his pen write where I know you’ll want to read. With an introduction by Kristopher Rufty, this is a reason to stay at home and read on a pleasant Saturday afternoon like I did.” –Cat After Dark
Praise for David Bernstein

 

“David Bernstein delivers a fast-moving tale of desire and destruction that gives new meaning to the words, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’ Relic of Death twists reality and will leave you reflecting on your own personal Achilles heel long after you finished reading…” —Allan Leverone, author of Mr. Midnight

 

“A fascinating, unpredictable, ever-shifting tale of greed and desperation. Highly recommended!” —Jeff Strand, author of Pressure

“Fast-paced, cinematic, and excellent. Horror fans gather around, it’s time for another chilling tale from David Bernstein.”  —Keith Deininger, author of Within and Ghosts of Eden

“A harrowing, brutal thriller, Skinner is Bernstein at his best!” —Peter Giglio, author of Shadowshift

Add to GoodReads

Purchase Links

Amazon

Check out Sinister Grin Press

 

 

 

 

(Review) A Mixed Bag of Blood by David Bernstein

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(Review) A Mixed Bag of Blood by David Bernstein

First, let’s begin with a bit about David Bernstein. This guy is one of the busiest, most prolific writers in the horror biz. That could mean that he’s shoveling out every crazy idea he can think of and half-assing his work, or….the guy is just an absolute writing machine. I choose to believe the latter. I’m still acquainting myself with Bernstein’s ever-growing catalog. I’ve read Relic of Death, Apartment 7C, and my favorite thus far, Goblins. All were quality works with Goblins making my top ten of 2015.

He’s got a one of a kind imagination. I mean this guy writes without fear. He tackles anything that his brain conjures up and does so full-on. His characters are instantly real. Their situations, no matter how far-fetched, become our problems.

With his latest release, the short story collection, A Mixed Bag of Blood (Sinister Grin Press, 2016), Bernstein is hitting on all cylinders and ready to take you for the grand tour through his mind of terrors. I’ll give you a rundown on each piece, but whether I give the story a 3 or 5 star rating, know that each and every one had me along for the ride within the first page. That’s a sign of a truly gifted storyteller.

Count me in on the David Bernstein Horror Express!

Next stop: A Mixed Bag of Blood.

If Kristopher Rufty’s forward doesn’t get you psyched up to read these tales, I don’t know what will!

“The Trojan Plushy”

This story has a deep-cutting set-up (not too different from Rufty’s fantastic Desolation), but Bernstein does take it in his own devilish direction. A stuffy that really wolf’s out in an act of revenge.

I liked this one, but it felt a bit rushed and the end came too fast for me. Definitely would’ve had potential as a novella.  3.5 stars

“The Booglin”

Okay, this one is crazy, but… Remember what I said about real characters and far-fetched situations that become our problems? Yeah, this one is that. Bernstein’s descriptions cause me to hold my nose as if the pain was happening to me. I did that several times while reading this one. He also gives us a fun little explanation on how the “Booglin” came into existence.

Loved it. 5 stars.

“Eaten Un-Alive”

“Zombies were the vampires’ cockroach.”

Loved that line. In this tale, we follow Remington, a vampire trying to survive after the zombie apocalypse. Right there! That’s an awesome idea and fantastic set-up. Remington finds his way to a house and he hopes to his first good meal in weeks.  I won’t spoil it for you. It has an ending that reminded me of one of my stories from Slush. This…is a good thing.

Loved this one. 5 stars

“It’s Not Nice to Have to Share”

I figured out what was going on pretty much at the start of this one. How close can two sisters be? You’ll see. Again, Bernstein presents a tale only his mind could fathom.

I thought it was a great character piece. 4 stars.

“Invasion”

This one really centers on a bad seed named, Timmy. He’s not a nice kid. He deserves all that he gets. That’s all I’m saying.

Liked it, but it felt like it should have been bigger. 4 stars.

“Samurai Zombie Killer”

Wow! Can I give it more than 5 stars????  No, but I would. We get Kenji and his evil brother Makito. We get a great Japanese setting. Samurai action and zombies? I’ve never been a zombie fan, but David knows that in order to make this sub-genre work, you have to put in the extra work to keep it fresh and  engaging. This one succeeds in spades.

Loved it. 5 stars.

“Small Town, Big Trouble”

Another fantastic idea executed perfectly. This one involves a town,  its curse, and a heck of an ending! I don’t wanna give anything away.

Loved it. 5 stars.

“Bad Cutlery”

A haunted knife purchased from a yard sale.

This one is short and just okay to me. 3 stars.

“Potty Mouth”

Another one of David’s crazy ideas that he still manages to pull you into. An 18 year-old son’s usage of foul language gets him in the shithouse…..he, he, he. His witch of a mother has a lesson to teach him. Will he learn? Read and find out.

A little too gross for my taste, but great if you don’t mind some nastiness. 3.5 stars

“STD”

A one-night stand leaves a guy with an unexpected gift. You’ve heard and read it a million times, right? Not like this! Loved the beginning, kind of wavered in the middle, but the ending…oh, man. So good!

Really enjoyed it. 4.5 stars

 

Overall, I really enjoyed this collection. It definitely made me want to read more from Bernstein. If he writes another collection, I will be the first in line.

I give A Mixed Bag of Blood 4 very strong stars!

 

david bernstein

 

A Mixed Bag of Blood synopsis

  • Print Length: 86 pages
  • Publisher: Sinister Grin Press
  • Publication Date: March 1, 2016

From a man seeking vengeance for a dead loved one, to a monster lodged in a person’s nose, to starving vampires and samurai battling zombies, a bully meeting his gruesome demise, along with prostitutes being sacrificed, a boy who refuses to stop swearing, and the consequences of one man’s night of unprotected sex comes a dark and disturbing collection of sinister tales filled with dread, bloodshed, humor and the bizarre.

This is a Mixed Bag of Blood.

Biography of David Bernstein

David Bernstein is originally from a small town in Upstate New York called Salisbury Mills. He now resides in NYC and misses being surrounded by chainsaw-wielding maniacs and wild backwoods people that like to eat raw human flesh. He’s grown used to the city, though hiding bodies is much harder there. He is the author of Amongst the Dead, Damaged Souls, The Tree Man, Witch Island, Relic of Death, Apartment 7C and the forthcoming Episodes of Violence. David writes all kinds of horror, from hair-raising ghost stories to gore-filled slashers and apocalyptic tales of terror. He loves hearing from his readers. You can reach him on Facebook, at www.facebook.com/david.bernstein.3. Visit him at his website: davidbernsteinauthor.blogspot.com email dbern77@hotmail.com, or on Twitter at @Bernsteinauthor.

 

Praise for A Mixed Bag of Blood

 

“Dave Bernstein let his mind wander and his pen write where I know you’ll want to read. With an introduction by Kristopher Rufty, this is a reason to stay at home and read on a pleasant Saturday afternoon like I did.” –Cat After Dark
Praise for David Bernstein

 

“David Bernstein delivers a fast-moving tale of desire and destruction that gives new meaning to the words, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’ Relic of Death twists reality and will leave you reflecting on your own personal Achilles heel long after you finished reading…” —Allan Leverone, author of Mr. Midnight

 

“A fascinating, unpredictable, ever-shifting tale of greed and desperation. Highly recommended!” —Jeff Strand, author of Pressure

“Fast-paced, cinematic, and excellent. Horror fans gather around, it’s time for another chilling tale from David Bernstein.”  —Keith Deininger, author of Within and Ghosts of Eden

“A harrowing, brutal thriller, Skinner is Bernstein at his best!” —Peter Giglio, author of Shadowshift

Add to GoodReads

Purchase Links

Amazon

Check out Sinister Grin Press

 

Enter to win Where Nightmares Begin. Also, grab a nice 99 cent Mark Allan Gunnells collection!

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Where Nightmares Begin by Glenn Rolfe

Where Nightmares Begin

by Glenn Rolfe

Giveaway ends April 12, 2016.

See the giveaway details
at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

Enter above to win!

I’ll also have a Blood and Rain giveaway starting next month. Stay tuned!

Also, if you haven’t yet, I’ve heard nothing but great things about this collection from Mark Allan Gunnells- Flowers in the Dumpster.  Click the cover below to get the eBook for 99 cents!

Flowers-in-the-Dumpster-cover-e1443682417848

 

Cheers!

-GR

 

GET “ROLFED” for BLACK FRIDAY DEAL: SLUSH 99 Cents in eBook/ $5.43 in Print!

 

Zachary Walters over at The Mouths of Madness coined the phrase “Get Rolfed”. I want to spread some Black Friday love, so I’m discounting my short story collection, SLUSH, from now until next weekend.

Get the eBook (Kindle Edition) for just 99 cents!

Or the Print book for $5.43 (normally $8.99).  

AMAZON US: SLUSH

AMAZON UK: SLUSH

AMAZON: CA

 

Praise for SLUSH and its 12 creeps tales:

 

mmy

 

 

“(Sweet 16) is beautiful and horrible and beautiful and grisly and beautiful…Chilling and raw.”-

Mercedes M. Yardley, author of Pretty Little Dead Girls and Nameless: The Darkness Comes

 

 

Stu

“Several stories stand out, but as a whole, this collection is essential reading for any horror fan. Rolfe crafts a mesmerising and realistic set of tales that will haunt, scare, buoy you with joy, and take you back to a simpler time when life was yet to kick you in the balls. Not so much slush as lush, a fictional, twisted trip down memory lane. Essential.”-

Stuart Keane, author of Grin and Cine

 

 

 

“(Skull Of Snakes) reminded me of the kind of horror I grew up on in the 70’s and 80’s. Sort of Stand By Me mixed with Tales From The Crypt, great story. While others definitely made me shudder with the disturbed nature of the characters or grossness. Something Lost touched my heart and I’m In Here was a true nightmare. Do yourself a favor and read this book!” – Horror Maiden’s Book Reviews

“(Halloween Worm) a young boy is coerced into helping the town bully get revenge against an old man who gave him a worm infested apple the previous Halloween. A nasty surprise awaits them. This story is pure gory fun and a great way to end the collection”- Horror After Dark

“Slush is the literary version of the term things that cannot be unseen… Rolfe will always show you something new and interesting with each piece of work and Slush is a great example of that. This is the perfect book to keep you awake at night.” – Horror Underground

“…once you pick up “Slush” you’ll be holding 126 pages of why you became a fan of Horror in the first place.” – Zachary “Z-Dubz” Walters/The Mouths of Madness Podcast

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