Minda Webber's Blog, page 4
December 25, 2013
Twas the Night before the Zombie Apocalypse
I could hear the sound of dry leaves crunching, I could hear the sound of too many teeth munching. So up to the house they made their way, dragging body parts, dripping blood and eating anything that got in their way.
And then in a twinkling, I heard the porch rails, being scratched by those long ragged bloood-soaked nails. As I drew in my head and was turning my around, through the front door, the biggest zombie I’ve ever seen came in with a lurching bound.
He was dressed all in fleece from his head to his foot. And his clothes were all covered in guts, blood and soot.
Twas the Night before the Zombie Apocalypse
When out in the yard there rose such a moaning clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on breast of the new-fallen snow, gave the lustre of mid-day to the grotesque objects below. When what to my horrified eyes should appear, but a group of ten plus eight zombies, more than enough to cause fear.
There were zombies half-dressed and a few in formal attire, while others looked like they had been in a fire. More rapid than turtles they lurched towards my front door, and the moaning and groaning should became a roar.
“Now kids, now mama, get up now. I said now! We’ve got zombies to wallop and how!” ”Get to the top of the porch, get to the top the wall, get your weapons ready and don’t you dare fall.”
December 24, 2013
Twas the Night before the Zombie Apocalypse
Twas the night before the Zombie Apocalypse and all through the house in red, not a creature was stirring, not even the walking dead, The shotguns were hung by the bedside in case, those flesh-eating zombies invaded our holiday space.
The children were all nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of badly dressed zombies swayed through their heads. And mamma with her crowbar and I with my baseball bat, had just finished totalling our zombie stats.
November 5, 2013
Werewolf Cookbook
I’m just over the moon with this new recipe for werewolves. (I’s basically the same as zombies)
1. Raw
2. Buttons and zippers are optional
3. Fabric
4. Boots and Bones, you know how doggish those pesky little werewolves can be about their playthings that also serves as food
Don’t put out the silver for them, but don’t put it up either. You may have need of it.
P.S. Don’t attempt to cook for them on a full moon. Or you just might bite off more than you can chew…or is that the other way around?
Zombie Cookbook
I must say I take pride and I am a little prejudiced that I can provide a meal for zombies.
1. Raw
2. Buttons
3. Fabric, any kind, any place
If you can boil water, you can prepare dinner for a zombie. Throw the boiling water in the face. Then run! Or the main course is you.
October 14, 2013
September 11, 2013
The Remarkable Miss Frankenstein – Will the real vampire please stand up?
Miss Frankenstein is LIVE on Boroughs Publishing, Smashwords, Amazon and All Romance eBooks. Kobo, Barnes & Noble, Apple and Diesel come on line within a week.
This is a an action, fun-filled romp through Regency England with Clair Frankenstein and an odd-ball, scary and historical array of characters. This won Best Historical Vampire Novel by RT. It was also nominated for Best First Novel.
“The rumors of my being undead have been greatly exaggerated,” Ian stated formally, his green eyes glinting with mischief.
“It’s impossible,” Clair said, clasping a hand to her breast. “You are not a vampire!” Stunned, she stared at Baron Huntsley, who stood in her morning room alive and well and certainly not bursting into flames. Not even one ash was upon the fool man. Didn’t he know the rules of vampiredom? A vampire burned to a crisp in broad daylight.
“When my butler, Brooks, announced you, I thought he had misheard,” she said to herself. Drat the blasted reprobate. She fumed, feeling like her friend Alice, who had fallen in a rabbit hole, at the Angleton picnic. How was the impossible possible? She was hallucinating, perhaps due to burning the midnight oil once too often.
September 1, 2013
Daughters Grimm and Sisters Grimm novel at Amazon of Grimms
Lowering her head to stare at him, Faye Grimm, sister to the Brothers Grimm, remarked, “Baron, you asked me to come here to help you solve a mystery.” Baron White had been worried about his wife and had wanted Faye to find out if someone was out to poison the Baroness. She had a fondness for apples, it was said.
“It appears I now have another mystery at hand, a murder and I am telling you that the butler didn’t do it.”
“Then who did?” Professor Appleton asked, his white busy eyebrows lowered, his thin-lipped mouth drawn. “When I entered the room, the butler, Jacks, was stalking, well, really standing over him, blood on his hands. It looks like an open and shut case to me.”
Staring at Jacks, Faye noted his pallor and his shaking hands,which managed to drop a bean or two. “Jacks, were you trying to help the Marquis, to see if he was still alive?”
Jacks nodded, tried to speak and gulped. ‘Ye….yes. I saw him laying there with all that blood and I….I thought maybe he was just hurt badly.”
Tap, tap, tap, the Colonel’s mustard colored cane rapped, a habit of nerves, is what the house-guests whispered. “The man’s lying through his teeth,” Colonel Pepper said sharply. “They all like…criminals. They’ll tell you the sky is green and they are innocent. I’ve seen it before. Why in the campaign of 1782, we had…”
Baroness White interrupted, wringing her hands, “A Marquis has died at our house partly. I can’t bear the shame. Why couldn’t it have been a mere Sir or the local Squire? Why a Marquis? Why me? No one will ever attend another party of mine, if my staff goes around killing people.” So saying she sank gracefully down on the sofa, the picture of a forlorn maiden.
Recovering from her swoon and putting aside her knitting of her youngest brother’s sweater, the Lady Swan patted her dear friend on the shoulder. “Perhaps no one will notice his absence. He does travel abroad a bit.”
“I imagine his wife might have something to say,” Countess Bloodworth said, her French accent softening the slight rebuke.
Faye had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. Lady Swan wasn’t the brightest of ladies and Countess Bloodworth suffered no fools. The Countess was beautiful, with dark hair and eyes and the palest of skins. She was also clever and had a sharp wit, which stung at times.
“I’m ruined!” Baroness White remarked brokenly, throwing her arm across her face.
“There, there dear,” the Baron said, patting his wife‘s head. “It’s not so bad. No one really cared for the Marquis, especially his wife. And we can always replace the staff.”
The butler, who had been standing stoically throughout the ordeal, suddenly collapsed into a chair.
Faye barely noted the drama as she had bent over and pulled back the cravat on the Marquis neck. Her lips tightened and she got the expression her brothers used to dread when they had put a frog in her bead, hoping she would kiss it and turn it into a prince. “You won’t have to fire your staff, Baron White. No servant did this. At least, no human one.”
Her blue eyes were bright with that Grimm determination. “The head wound came later, after the Baron was dead.”
“Preposterous,” Colonel Pepper snapped.
“No, the head wound didn’t kill him; that was a decoy to make us think it was the death blow,” Faye responded, ignoring the pompous Colonel’s last remark. Kneeling beside the body, she pointed at the two fang marks quite visible on the victim‘s neck. “This was the work of a…Vampire!”
The word filled the room with a sick dread. All eyes were on the marks, most especially Sir Redding. His gray eyes seemed to darken as he threw his back a bit and stilled. Then he glanced over at Faye as she stared back. He was a handsome man, perhaps the most handsome man she had ever seen, with an air of danger that seemed to hover in the air around him.
Countess Bloodworth moved closer to the body, and then smiled superiorly. “Really, Miss Grimm, such drama, such flare. Have you though of being on the stage? How can you say that is a vampire bite? Have you ever seen one?
Faye looked at her suspiciously. The Countess either didn’t believe her theory or was trying to divert the others. If the Countess last name hadn’t been Bloodworth, Faye might have thought she was the vampire. But no self-respecting vampire would have a name like Bloodworth. It would be a dead giveaway.
“Yes, I have seen a vampire bite before,” Faye replied, her blue eyes flashing. “In Bavaria, where both my sister, Greta, and I have encountered a few. She barely got away with her life as did I.”
Before more heated words could be exchanged, Baroness White gasped, “A vampire! The Marquis of Greenoaks, be damned!”
“Edna!” Baron White said. “That’s no way for a Baroness to speak!”
“Oh, dear, don’t you see,” Baroness White remarked, smiling. “Everyone will want to come to our house parties now. We have a vampire!”
“Oh goody,” Colonel Pepper remarked sarcastically. For once Faye was in complete agreement with the military man.
July 31, 2013
The dumped dog
On Monday as I was driving to class, I saw a little dog almost run over. I took her back home and put up signs. She’s a toy poodle. She was covered in fleas, filthy, had stickers and the matting under her eyes was a quarter of an inch thick. She is the sweetest thing. No collar of course. I think someone dumped her. I just don’t get it. How could you just dump an animal someplace. Think how scared they are, how hurt, how confused. Breaks my heart. This is the fourth animal that we have taken in over the years that was dumped. I don’t understand! My house is shrinking with all these animal rescues. Although, the three cats have long since passed, we still have two more shelter rescue cats, a dumped dog and now another dumped dog. Soon, I will sleeping in the doghouse.
