Which one’s your favourite?
A Tale of Two Stephens
Which one’s your favourite?
Category: Authors
All I Want for Christmas
Used with permission from Debbie Ridpath Ohi at Inkygirl.com
Just kidding. I want diamonds. SO. MANY. DIAMONDS.
“Feed”, a Horror Excerpt
He’s got that look in his eyes again, the one that only brings trouble. “Buddy,” I warn him, “cool it.”
I know he can hear me, at least on some level, but the part of him I can see is all glassy eyes and stiff body. He’s just like a hound, when he gets like this, and I get that feeling in my gut again. I know something’s going down, and soon.
My brother bobs his head absently to the music from the juke. It’s some of that C&W bullshit he’s always playing on the truck radio. I can’t stand it, myself, all heartbreak and such. Life has enough problems, believe you me, without adding more.
I know all about that.
Buddy’s leaning forward on his stool a little. His massive gut pushes up against the high table but he don’t seem to notice. The bar’s crowded tonight, men drinking off the week. Some came with their own woman. Some came with another man’s.
I get that feeling, and I know he’s seen her.
Her: he doesn’t know her name yet. Might not ever find it out. Don’t matter. She’ll be pretty and brunette. She’ll be drinkin’ like a fish. She’ll be alone, and that’s the part that matters. Buddy knows enough to know that if he’s gonna do what I think he’s gonna do, he’s got to be selective.
He had a close call that one time; closer than I like to remember. I saved his ass when maybe I shouldn’t have but at least the big dummy learned from it.
Then I see her through the crowd. She’s got long brown ringlets, and she’s dressed all in Cowboy, like this is some kinda costume party. Big ol’ mug of beer in one hand, too-high boots on her feet. She’s wobbling, bumping into people, looking at them like they’re the ones not watching their step.
My stomach turns liquid and I worry I might crap myself, right here on this stool in the middle of Corey’s.
“That’s her,” Buddy says, his voice raspy and low.
“No, man. Don’t.”
“She’s the one,” he says, and he’s gone, the stool rocking on half its legs behind him.
“Shit,” I say. I toss the rest of my beer down my throat. I have time for that, at least.
By the time I get to him, he’s already talking in her ear. He’s careful not to touch her, and to someone watching, that might look strange, but I know he can’t help it. He feels safer like that, even though I told him it don’t make a difference. She’s got her eyes half closed, and she’s nodding these big sloppy nods.
She’s the one alright.
Blood is thicker than water, and it’s my job to protect my little brother.
No matter what monstrous things he does.
Grab a copy of FEED for your Kindle, then turn the lights down and get ready. The pigs are hungry…
Hello There, All-Nighter
I’m making some exciting headway on my novel (“novel” is such a terrifying word, fraught with danger, that I dare not speak it aloud). I’m very superstitious, it turns out, and honestly even writing about how well it’s going makes me afraid of jinxing it.
You gotta strike while the iron’s hot, they say. So, in homage to the good old days when I’d see the whole night through, I’m queuing up the coffee maker and having myself a little write-a-thon tonight. Once C heads to bed, the games begin.
I don’t remember the last time I was this excited about a story. And now, to appease the Gods of humility, let us not speak of it until the night is through.
Life’s Better In the Zone
Yesterday I wrote.
That wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary — excepting unforseen catastrophes, I try to write something every day.
The difference with yesterday was that I tripled my typical output.
I’m working on a novel right now, and have a couple shorts bubbling away. (People said I should put one out for Halloween, being a horror writer and all, but neither is ready yet. I’d rather wait until I love them more.) Yesterday I sat down, set my timer, figured I’d get some words down on the novel then go about the rest of my day.
But what happened instead was that I fell into that mystical place: the Zone. Where the words seem to flow through you, whispered in your ear by some other storyteller. All you have to do is catch them before they wink out, and nail them down before they get away. When you’re there, you know: it felt like my hands were guided by someone, or Something other than myself, and when I read over what I’d written it seemed to have come from someone else altogether. At the same time, the voice is completely, one hundred percent me at my best, and I couldn’t be happier. I love the story, and everyone and everything in it. I know what’s happening and where it’s going.
I came away from the session with legs cramped and brain spinning. Pleasantly exhausted and wrung completely dry. It was running a marathon. It was winning a gameshow. It was years of practice at writing distilled into one perfect afternoon.
I can only hope Whatever that was comes to visit me again soon. We’ve got a lot of work to do, the two of us.
Find Out “What’s Inside”: a Horror Preview
Just in time for Halloween, I thought I’d share an excerpt of my short horror story, “What’s Inside”. Graphic, disturbing, and unsettling, this one’s my favourite!
“She’s only a little dead. I can feel the warm. The bits inside, for sure, are hot.
There was a lot more blood than I expected; more than when I done either the mouse or the chipmunk.
Maybe it’s because of the babies. I learned in school that a lady has more blood when she’s pregnant. “It’s because the baby needs more food,” Mrs Chappel told us. I don’t know what that had to do with anything; I just wanted to hear about the blood. But when she talked she rubbed her hand around and around on her belly, and the sound drove me bananas until I couldn’t hear her words anymore. She was always touching her belly and smiling; I don’t understand why she was so happy to be getting fat.
I’ve got my favourite sharp stick here and I squidge it around inside. There’s some lumpy stuff, and a thing that looks like a kidney bean. I tried poking at it but it got stuck on my stick and I had to shake it off. It went splat when it hit the dirt and had little stringy bits like a spider’s web all over it.
I kicked some dust on it. It’s not what I want.
I get up close again, and don’t get any grass on my knees. My Mom just bought me these jeans and she’ll be mad at me if I wreck ’em.
The knife I took out of Daddy’s drawer is right here with me. It’s all rusty and I couldn’t get it open at first but I worked real hard and it opened right up. It just took some wiggling.
“My clever boy,” Mom says inside my head, and it makes me smile. I love my Mom.
It’s starting to get a little dark out. Goosey bumps are all over my arms, even though I have my coat all did up.
What happened was I stayed in the cloakroom after the last bell. I was trying to think. It was warm and dark in there, and even though it smelled like wet boots it made me feel safe.
Mrs Chappel came to the doorway of the cloakroom and pulled me out of the pile of other kids’ clothes. There’s babies inside her, two of them. I wanted to know if they could see me from in there.
“Do your babies have eyelids?”
“Well, that’s a good question. Yes, I think they do.” She was rubbing at her belly again and her hand went scratch scratch scratch against her shirt.
“It’s too loud! I don’t like when you do that.”
Her hand stopped. “Okay, Cody, time to get you home. Put on your coat.”
I let her help me, even though I’m big enough to do it myself. And then I had a lightbulb.
“Mrs Chappel, my mom can’t come get me today. Can you take me home?”
“Hmm. Why don’t we call her? We’ll go to the office and I’ll let you use the phone.”
“No! She can’t come. She had a appointment. And my dad can’t come either. He works.”
Mrs Chappel’s eyebrows went all up.
“It’s close to here.” It’s not, really, but I tell good lies.
She got down on her knees and zipped up my coat. Her eyes were big and brown, with little bits of green.
“I can’t take you home to an empty house, Cody.”
“I could…I could go to my neighbour’s. She’s old, so we can’t call her. She doesn’t hear. But she watches me, sometimes.”
Mrs Chappel tried to stand back up, but it wasn’t easy for her. I put my arm out and let her push on it, but I knew she wasn’t really putting weight on me. Grownups never think you can do stuff.
I do lots of things that grownups don’t know about.”
From What’s Inside, a horror short by Stefanie N Snider.
Throw a buck at Amazon or Smashwords and find out why some kids are better left alone.
“Dark Side” Winners!
My first giveaway has officially closed! Thanks to everyone who participated!
The winners are:
Ava, from Journey of Jordanna East
Mark
The Comedian
and Clawberry Shortcake
I hope the four of you enjoy Dark Side!
I’m off to watch Cabin Fever and work on my skull scarf. Have a great night everyone!
“Dark Side” Giveaway!
SniderWriter has now reached 10,000 hits!!
You guys, you don’t even know. You’re fabulous, the whole lot of you. I came home just now, saw this, and instantly my crappy day turned awesome again. Thanks so much!
I want to give you something back, so I thought I’d hold a little draw.
I’m giving away five digital copies of Dark Side: Seven Repulsive Stories, my first collection of horror shorts. There’s a little something for everyone: zombies, a psychopathic child, a naked Boogeyman, and of course blood and guts everywhere, just like we like it.
Comment on this post and tell me your favourite horror movie to enter. That’s it. That’s all. And even that’s only so I know who wants in. You have until 8PM EST Saturday October 20th to enter. I’ll pick winners at random and notify you by 11PM EST Saturday, so you can stay up late and get your scare on. Please make sure I have some way of contacting you: email, twitter, blog address, SOMETHING, because I’ll be sending the winners an exclusive code for the free download.
Good luck! I hope you like it!
sniderwriter 