Naomi Kramer's Blog, page 5

Maisy May on Sale!

Amazon has discounted Maisy May by 10%! Woohoo! If you're in the US, this means it's just $1.79. If you're elsewhere... well, it's around 20c less than you'd usually pay.

PLUS - until the end of September, Maisy's available from Smashwords for US$1 using coupon code JS59N, no matter where you live.

(technically) DEAD - Excerpt

The number of books in my to-write pile keeps increasing. I know some writers do this weird one-book-at-a-time thing, but it turns out that when it comes to writing, I'm almost incapable of serial monogamy. I'm a cheerful polygamist instead. Oh well, such is life, right? So, I was walking into work this morning, and this dead dude started talking to me. Lo and behold, we have the start of a sequel to DEAD(ish).
Warning: This is adult stuff. Not adult as in erotica, just not suitable for kids.

(Cooper)

I'm dead.

This is kinda pissing me off.

I don't know what happened, though. One moment I was on my way to visit my girlfriend with a big bunch of flowers, and the next I saw a big bright light and a cloud and a crowd of dudes in dresses carrying harps. Holy crap, I thought, I'm dead! Then I thought - there's no way I'm getting stuck in a low-tech shiny place like that with acoustic music everywhere. That's a freaky version of hell. Shit no. So I ran, or flew or something the hell away, and now I'm back home and I'm still dead. It sucks.

I'm a ghost, that much I've worked out. I'm see-through, I can't eat, I can't drink. My body's nowhere to be seen, thank God or Ceiling Cat or whatever, because I think I'd puke. Or throw ectoplasm everywhere, or whatever the hell dead dudes do. I never had a strong stomach for that sort of thing.

So I float aimlessly around the apartment, looking for something to do. I sit in front of my computer and I'd cry my eyes out if I had eyes and tear ducts and stuff. $5000 worth of beautiful high-end gaming hardware, and I can't even touch it. I'm afraid to go too near it in case I short something out. I must be an electrical field or a magnetic field or some shit, right? I'd never forgive myself if I killed Betsy.

Computer's out. TV? It's off, but the remote's gotta be easier to manipulate than a keyboard. And I know ghosts can manipulate stuff. I concentrate really hard, think really solid thoughts, and poke my finger at the remote. It goes straight through. Damn. But I've got nothing else to do, right, so I keep trying till I get the sucker pressed and the TV's on. Holy frackin' hallelujah. It's 2am now and an old crappy movie's on, but there's no way I'm gonna give myself a hernia trying to change the channel too. I settle down in my beanbag in front of the TV and try to imagine I'm eating caramel popcorn.

I wake up I don't know how many hours later and it's pitch black and there's no air and I'm panicking like nothing else. A little voice in the back of my head is telling me I'm dead and I'm not going to suffocate, but I'm too busy panicking to pay the bastard any attention. I thrash around, screaming, and suddenly the light comes back and there's air and space around me. I lie on the floor panting. Was that hell or something? That sucked worse than the shiny acoustic place. I look around, and the beanbag's lying next to me, all crumpled like someone's picked it up and shaken it then stomped on it. Just wait a bloody moment – was I stuck in a bloody beanbag? How embarrassing. I'm just getting to the 'thank God there was no one around to see that' relief stage when I hear a quiet snigger. It quickly turns into a high-pitched cackle of glee.

“Damn, boy, you looked like the beanbag was in labour.”

I get myself upright in double-quick time. A blonde see-through chick is standing in my lounge room laughing at me. She's not half-bad looking, actually – short skirt covering a nice arse, nice tits in a low-cut top. But I prefer women who laugh at my jokes, not my humiliations.

“Who the hell are you?” I demand.

“I'm Linda. I'll be your guide to the afterlife, or some shit. And can we hurry up about it? They yanked me out of a hot tub full of hot angel boys and a bottomless bottle of Baileys for this.”

“Geez, you could just frack off right now if you'd like.”

“Nothing I'd like better, kiddo – but I've got a duty. OK? Now, first – put some clothes on. Please?”

I look down, and yup, I'm naked as the day I was born. Crap. I do my damnedest to imagine clothes, but all I manage is a pair of undies. Linda sniggers at me, sits down on the lounge, and tells me to try harder. Slowly I get a tshirt and a pair of boardies clothing me, but every time I look at Linda I remember being butt-naked in front of her and it all disappears again. Shit shit shit! So I stop looking at her, and I manage to keep myself clothed. Well yay me, I learnt to keep my clothes on with a hot woman in the room. Seems like death's not gonna be that much different from life.

Floyd - Excerpt from Vampire Suicide Agency

This is an excerpt from an upcoming book called Vampire Suicide Agency.

In his wildest daydreams, John never saw God calling him to THIS ministry. If only theological college had included a course on restoring vampires to the family of God, he'd have a clue what he's doing.

Hands in the night. That's the first inkling I had that my day was turning bad. They came from nowhere, clamped around my arms, hauled me into a narrow not-quite-alley. Then teeth in my neck as I screamed, lips kissing, nuzzling, sucking the life out of me. A spurt of hot, salty liquid filling my mouth when my energy had gone and my struggles had ceased. It tasted like beef broth and blood sausage and goodness and life. I drank and sucked and drank, snarled at the one whose inner-elbow I suckled, when she tried to pull away. Hard hands gripped my arms again, yanked me away, countered my feeble struggles. I wailed as two dark forms ran silently down the alley, out into a street, leaving me utterly alone.

I had been on my way home from a prayer meeting when it happened. Someone spoke of a little-mentioned passage in Acts, where a married couple is stricken dead for lying to their fellow church members, using God as their witness. God doesn't appreciate being called upon for evil, he said. Yeah, I thought, that sounds like an incredibly dumb thing to do. An hour later I was lying on the ground in the piss and muck, a trickle of borrowed blood leaking from my mouth, floating on a cushion of pain and confusion, and falling asleep.

I woke when church bells clanged loudly, so loudly that they seemed right next to my ear. I opened my eyes to a weak light filtering down past the buildings, enough to see the cobblestones under my head, not enough to see the smears of grime that must be on them. My nose had no such problem in discovering that someone had pissed and shat somewhere near me - the smell was bad, the sort of smell you associate with plague diarrhoea. Foetid. I moved convulsively, shoved myself into a sitting position, and discovered that I was the source of the stink. At least, the movement caused sensations which I was sure meant I'd soiled myself sometime during the night.

Night. Why had I been lying on the ground, in an alley, sleeping, soiling myself? I frowned, trying to remember where I'd been the night before. Had I been out with friends? No, not on a Saturday, that was prayer meeting night, and it must be Sunday now, the bells were still ringing. Prayer meeting. Walking home. Hands on my arms, a mouth on my neck. I moved a shaking hand to touch my neck - nothing. Had I had some sort of apoplexy? Was I too young for that?

I rose unsteadily to my feet, nose wrinkling at the stench surrounding me. Home. Bath. I could work out the rest later.

New Book Out!

New Book Out! Introducing Maisy May

Maisy's caught between reality and expectations. She wants to dress goth – but her church says it looks like satanism. She loves fast cars and can never bring herself to act like a feminine little christian like the books recommend. Her boyfriend thinks he might be gay. Can Maisy reconcile her faith and her life, or will one of them have to go?

Maisy May is the first novella in a set of 3.

It's currently available on Smashwords and Amazon for $1.99.

Links:
Smashwords - http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/...
Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Maisy-May-ebook...

Addiction

Every time we get together and find some privacy, we've been going a little closer to the fornication that Ben keeps nattering about. I'm not sure I see the big deal, you know? It feels good, really good, and yeah, I do keep wanting more… but I can't see myself turning into some uncontrollable slut over it. Can't see myself drooling over guys from school to get it.

Once school's out for the year, opportunities are a hell of a lot easier to find. Mum's at work most days, and though I'm not...

Nobody Expects the Spanish Inquisition

"Maisy?"

"Yeah, Mum?"

"What's going on with you and Mark?"

I shrug.

"Don't shrug at me, love – what's going on between you?"

I sigh. Well, the sex talk had to happen eventually.

"Nothing much, Mum. We're friends, OK?"

"Just friends?"

I shrug at her again.

"We tried kissing – it didn't work so good. So yup, just friends, Mum."

"Well, OK."

She doesn't look happy, but I haven't given her much room to nag me about Mark – and that's all I'm really worried about.

"So -"

Oh God, MORE talk?

"- is there anyone you...

Wholesome

"Hey, Maisy?"

"Yeah, Mum?"

"I'm going out to Mrs Smith's – can you do the vacuuming while I'm gone?"

"You pay me Aussie dollar?"

"You know, once upon a time you begged me to let you vacuum."

"Uh huh – we're all naïve sometime, Mum."

"Usual amount."

"Wicked."

I toss the magazine I was reading on my desk, grab my mp3 player and headphones, and head for the spare room. Not like I had anything interesting to do anyhow.

Ten minutes later I'm dancing the vacuum around the lounge to Fat Boy Slim on loud...

What's Going On?

Lazarus

"Geordie?"

He's lying on the couch, sobbing. Great. Did I forget to put the toilet seat down again?

(You'd think that wouldn't be an issue with two men in the house, wouldn't you? Well, there you go)

"Geordie, what's wrong?" I try again, kneeling next to him.

He thrusts a piece of paper at me.

GEORDIE, DARLING, YOUR TIME'S UP. YOU KNOW WHY.

Er. This doesn't look as though it could have any good interpretations.

"Geordie? Is this a threat of some sort?"

He lifts his head from the couch...

Follow the Leader

 

Ben, the youth group leader, stands at the front of the room and claps for attention.

"Right, people – our group's been asked to lead worship next month…"

"What, like a morning service?" someone asks.

"Yup, the whole service – it's a special "Celebration of Youth' week that the church is running. So -"

The room turns into a loud babble of questions, suggestions and general chatter.

"OI!"

Near-silence.

"First, how many musicians do we have? Put up your hands. Great! Now – come out the front, and...