Jake Elliot's Blog, page 7

The light has failed: the era of man is at its end

(Introduction by Tim Marquitz. Book release date is September 1st.)

I started Fading Light with high hopes, but I wasn’t sure what to expect having never orchestrated an anthology before. There was a lot of uncertainty the night before submissions opened. What kind of stories would I get? Would any of the invited authors take me up on the offer to submit? What was I letting myself in for?

Turns out, the process went better than I could ever have imagined. Not only did I receive amazing stories...

An Anthology of the Monstrous

The light has failed: the era of man is at its end.

Born of darkness, the creatures of myth, legend, and nightmare have long called the shadows home. Now, with the cruel touch of the sun fading into memory, they’ve returned to claim their rightful place amidst humanity; as its masters.

Fading Light collects 30 monstrous stories by authors new and experienced, in the genres of horror, science fiction, and fantasy, each bringing their own interpretation of what lurks in the dark.

Table of Contents...

The cover for Book 2

Here it is, the cover for the second book. Number three is in active production and book two will be released on September 1st, 2012.There is more information at the ‘About my Books’ tab.

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Seven Questions with Gary Olson

Gary Olson is one of my fellow published authors at Damnation Books. I’ve followed Several of his earlier interviews and knew his answers to my kooky questions would be a great addition to my collection of new and impressive authors.

Seven questions, Mr. Olson—

1) Tell us a little about Brutal Light, is it your debut novel? How would you classify it, what genre? Who is the protagonist? What makes your story so unique? In other words, tell us about your latest book.

Hey, that’s five questions rig...

Miscommunication

For some reason that is beyond me, my blog posts are not communicating with Goodreads. Over at jakeelliotfiction.com is a review of The Wrong Way Down.

Also, there is a great interview with Horror writer and Illustrator Greg Chapman. Please come over and see for yourself.

Author Gary Olson will be my guest next month.

7 Out of 10 Stars

Yup, that was what Fantasy Book Review said about The Wrong Way Down.

Here is the link to the full review. Fantasy Book Review.

Critic Ryan Lawler said "This not a bad debut novel, not by any stretch."

Seven (eight?) Questions with Greg Chapman

If you came here looking for my book, look to the ‘About My Book ‘ tab — up there — on the menu bar.

Today’s guest is Greg Chapman, who somehow got asked eight questions instead of seven. What can I say, I’m a writer, not a counter.Greg Chapman is on his way to being a great horror writer. He already is a great horror writer and in a few more years you will all know his name. I feelprivileged –like I just interviewed Stephen King, or Clive Barker before they got real famous. Playboy Magazine,...

Seven Questions with author Sally Franklin Christie

If you came looking for my novel click on the green link, then come back and read this interview with author Sally Franklin Christie. It will be worth it, we’ll solve many critical problems together, we’ll discuss the end of the world, but mostly we are talking about her latest paranormal thriller, Milk Carton People and how you can find it.

Sally has helped a many new authors get a little recognition with her blog at Writerly Wednesdays. She has interviewed hundreds of struggling artists. In...

In the Land of the Free

If you came here looking for a book – Click Here ­– it redirects to my book page.

(Here is this month's installment of free fiction. I entered this one in a 'flash-fiction' contest a while ago. It is hard to tell a story in less than 1000-words, this one does it in less than 750. It didn't win. This afternoon I fixed it better than what was sent, but I'm not going to try entering it for another contest. I'm giving it to you for free.)

In the Land of the Free

A nine millimeter diameter is a perfect circle. Perfection's length is explained in inches, and four of them if measured exactly. The beginning of a perfect plan is incased by blued steel.  At the back-end is a hammer locked into place and ready to strike, but the open end is pressing hard against perspiring flesh, the focal point of what will be the execution of a perfected plan.

With one hand curled around rough rubber grips, Anthony Williams presses the pistol's barrel against the Pakistani's sweat-saturated head. One-half of the Pakistani's smock was colored a dark yellow – a sickly urine-yellow – like the smell creeping up over the counter and assaulting Anthony's nose. Gripping the other half of the clerk's smock with his free hand – the light yellow half – just beneath where a badge reads, 'Shop EZ.'

Anthony bellows into the ear of his captive, "Just gimmie a pack'a Newport's! I gotta get back!"

Fumbling with the key in the register's drawer, the clerk mumbles, pleading, begging, "Just don't kill me, please! Have all of it!" His accent is thick, his English raw.

Anthony yells again, menacingly stabbing into the clerk's head with his gun, "No punk! I don't want yer god-damn money!  Gimmie the Newport's!"   He stares directly into the security camera, spreading his lips with practiced smile. They'd know it was him.

Six months ago, Anthony 'Tony' Williams turned twenty-eight in Beau Sterritt State Correctional Facility, the ninth consecutive birthday passed in prison. Ten days later he was released on good behavior. More than a third of his life sheared away for selling someone else's rock. Back then, peddling crack gave him an edge, made him look tough. He knew the streets were hard, but prison had taught him meaner – rehabilitated is what the system calls it.

Breakfast at seven, lunch at noon, dinner at five, lights out at nine, and then repeat. That was a perfect life; not freedom – just life. Freedom was for people who didn't need structure. Tony would never admit he needed someone to tell him 'when to' or 'what for.' By the standard measure of success in the land of the free, Anthony proved a complete failure.

It mattered no more. He was going back where he understood. Inside that world, he'd earned his rights, and his respects. He smiled one more time for the camera as the clerk he held a gun to yanked a pack of menthol cigarettes, spilling three more cool-green packs across the counter. Releasing his temporary prisoner, Anthony grabbed another pack of smokes and turned towards the door.

He smiled with glee. When the police see the security film, they will know it was he who robbed this store. Reaching out towards the door before him, his head buzzed euphoric.  By the end of the week he'd be home with his armed guards protecting him from all these confusing liberties.  Life again would have definition, and Anthony would again have order. Everything balances by its own perfection.

Light travels faster than sound. Pushing upon the door to get out, a flash of lightning reflected across the pane of well-polished glass before exploding outward over the sidewalk like diamond cubes.  The pain first spread across his back like a bad sunburn, followed shortly thereafter by the sensation of muscle being torn into meat ribbons. From the waist down he feels nothing – absolutely nothing. Jello could have served a better foundation than his legs. The sound of thunder follows the lightning.

Dropping his cigarettes and gun he attempts to soften his fall. The pistol clatters across the sidewalk, scattering glass-cubes while continuing over the curb and bouncing out into the parking lot.  Falling through the shattered doorway and across the 'Shop EZ' welcome mat, blood spurts unchecked from a peppering of leaking holes.

Buckshot – the double-ought size shell – was several steel balls of nine-millimeter perfection delivered swiftly from a 12-guage shotgun.

The world began to wash like waves pulling sand across the beach. Slowly filling the grooves of the welcome mat, blood and safety glass mixed in the trenches.  "Why?" Tony croaked, sensing the clerk standing over him. A coppery flavor coated his tongue as he forced out the words, "My gun was empty."  A crimson smear tainted the cellophane covering over the tobacco.  He remembered believing the day he was released, "I am free!" The pain fades into nothing, as goes the prison called the free world.

(If you liked this one – remember, my best work is for sale, the links are on the left.)

Sin City’s Social Reject

As promised, here is the first of free fiction. I’ll add another story in early March.

But first, if you came here for another reason…

Click here for info about my book.

Click here for info about me.

Click here for other inquiries like upcoming signings, interviews, or book reviews.

Sin City’s Social Reject

Mickey Boushan smiled, speculating there must be a full moon tonight. Las Vegas on a good night was strange, but the gamblers frequenting his table had all been freaks, and his night...