“O IS FOR OUTBREAK is the fifteenth book in an epic series of twenty-six horror anthologies. In this book you will find a selection of thirteen unsettling tales from some of the most talented independent horror authors writing today. From government conspiracies to historic plagues, otherworldly viruses to deadly insects, O IS FOR OUTBREAK brings a wide selection of pandemic-inspired horror tales that will have you hiding away, face mask in place.”
Fellow authors include: Pauline E. Dungate, Carlton Herzog, Jonathan Inbody, S.G. Kubrak, John Ryland, Damir Salkovic, Eric Thomas, B.F. Vega, and Lisa Zang.
Horror is part of the human condition, but few peoples across the ages know it quite like the Jews.
From slavery to pogroms to the Holocaust, the “Chosen People” have not only endured hell on Earth, they’ve risen above it to share their stories with the world.
Whether it’s pirate rabbis or demon-slaying Bible queens, concentration camp vampires or beloved, fearless bubbies, THE JEWISH BOOK OF HORROR offers you twenty-two dark tales about the culture, history, and folklore of the Jewish people.
My latest short story, “Handgina,” is now available on the evil Amazon for a mere 99 cents (cover art by the RïpRöck)!
A bitter man reeling from a breakup is convinced women have it easy compared to men. When a part of the female anatomy starts growing out of the palm of his hand, he faces a series of ordeals that help him see things from a new perspective.
Read my flash fiction story, “Long Strange R.I.P.” in issue #5 of the Rock N’ Roll Horror Zine along with several other gnarly horror writers for a mere $4!
Here’s a teaser:
“Long time no see, Mr. Garcia.” Satan slouched on his throne of charred ribcages and femurs at the center of a vast dim obsidian hall. “Whatever can I do for you?”
The heavy-set, white-haired and bearded man—basically Santa Claus in glasses and a black T-shirt—stood with his feet planted wide on the ashy stone, sulfurous gases twining around his legs like friendly cats. “You know damn well why I’m here,” Jerry said.
“Written any new jingles?” Satan’s black lidless eyes oozed like tar as he scratched the mushroom head of the ghoul squatting to his side. “I still get a kick out of that one song. How does it go? ‘Set out running but I take my time, a friend of the devil is a friend of mine.’”
“It’s gotta stop.”
“Is my singing that bad?” Satan flashed hundreds of tiny, immaculate teeth and the thing beside him tittered. “I forgot to congratulate you on the Hall of Fame induction. Quite the honor.”
“Leave Vince alone.” Jerry stuck out a trembling pointer finger, the finger beside it absent.
“Ah, yes, how is Mr. Welnick? Still tickling the ivories to your satisfaction?”
Jerry shook his head, spraying droplets of sweat that evaporated in mid-air. “You can’t keep killing them.”