K.R. Rowe's Blog, page 3

SKIN

Once alive, I now hang dead and blackened from your weary shoulders.

You covet my warmth, yet your heat permeates my every fiber.

Peeled away from my life-giving blood, my once supple skin is now toughened and cold.

But I envelope you, protecting you from the storms that surround you.

You pull me close, until the unyielding heat creeps between our skins. Your body burns and you shrug me away.

You discard me, pushing me into the darkness, but I wait.

A chill will prick at your senses,  your storms will return, and I shall press my skin against yours, and comfort you once more.

—-

-K.R. Rowe. KRRowe.com

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Review of Deadfall Lane by Israel Finn

 

In a rage, Pete Denning commits an unspeakable act while in a desperate attempt to keep that which he loves –his son. But eliminating his problem doesn’t solve anything. It only breeds and nurtures his worst nightmare.

I’ve read Deadfall Lane twice and yes, it is that good.   It is a very short story that took me only about twenty minutes to read.

Finn weaves a chilling and gripping tale that left me thinking about it long after I finished reading it. This story has it all: love, hate, rejection, betrayal, murder and a deep, heavy creep factor to hold it all together.

Finn is an excellent author and I’ve read a few of his other stories, such as No Such Thing as Monsters and Stones. All are beautifully written and I recommend any one of Israel Finn stories.  If you have a few spare moments and want to fill them with something great to read, grab one.

Deadfall Lane gets 5 stars.

You can find all of Israel Finn books on his author page at Amazon.

Learn more about Israel Finn by following his website Israel Finn.com and follow him on twitter @Israel_Finn

Israel Finn  is a horror, dark fantasy, and speculative fiction writer, and a winner of the 80th Annual Writer’s Digest Short Story Competition. He’s had a life-long love affair with books, and was weaned on authors like Kurt Vonnegut, Ray Bradbury, Richard Matheson, Arthur C. Clarke and H.G. Wells. Books were always strewn everywhere about the big white house in Indiana where he grew up. He loves literary works (Dickens and Twain, for instance), but his main fascination lies in the fantastic and the macabre, probably because he was so heavily exposed to it early on.

Later he discovered Robert McCammon, Dean Koontz, F. Paul Wilson, Dan Simmons, Ramsey Campbell, and (God help us, everyone) Stephen Edwin King, as well as several others, and the die was indelibly cast.

Right now he lives with his wife in southern California.

 

Review of Deadfall Lane by K.G. Arndell

In a rage, Pete Denning commits an unspeakable act while in a desperate attempt to keep that which he loves –his son. But eliminating his problem doesn’t solve anything. It only breeds and nurtures his worst nightmare.

I’ve read Deadfall Lane twice and yes, it is that good.   It is a very short story that took me only about twenty minutes to read.

K.G. Arndell weaves a chilling and gripping tale that left me thinking about it long after I finished reading it. This story has it all: love, hate, rejection, betrayal, murder and a deep, heavy creep factor to hold it all together.

Arndell is an excellent author and I’ve read a few of his other stories, such as No Such Thing as Monsters and Stones. All are beautifully written and I recommend any one of Arndell’s stories.  If you have a few spare moments and want to fill them with something great to read, grab one.

Deadfall Lane gets 5 stars.

You can find all of K.G. Arndell’s books on his author page at Amazon.

Learn more about K.G. Arndell by following his website KGArndell.com and follow him on twitter at @KG_Arndell

K.G. Arndell is a horror, dark fantasy, and speculative fiction writer, and a winner of the 80th Annual Writer’s Digest Short Story Competition. He’s had a life-long love affair with books, and was weaned on authors like Kurt Vonnegut, Ray Bradbury, Richard Matheson, Arthur C. Clarke and H.G. Wells. Books were always strewn everywhere about the big white house in Indiana where he grew up. He loves literary works (Dickens and Twain, for instance), but his main fascination lies in the fantastic and the macabre, probably because he was so heavily exposed to it early on.

Later he discovered Robert McCammon, Dean Koontz, F. Paul Wilson, Dan Simmons, Ramsey Campbell, and (God help us, everyone) Stephen Edwin King, as well as several others, and the die was indelibly cast.

Right now he lives with his wife in southern California.

 

Review of Dead fall Lane by K.G. Arndell

In a rage, Pete Denning commits an unspeakable act while in a desperate attempt to keep that which he loves –his son. But eliminating his problem doesn’t solve anything. It only breeds and nurtures his worst nightmare.

I’ve read Deadfall Lane twice and yes, it is that good.   It is a very short story that took me only about twenty minutes to read.

K.G. Arndell weaves a chilling and gripping tale that left me thinking about it long after I finished reading it. This story has it all: love, hate, rejection, betrayal, murder and a deep, heavy creep factor to hold it all together.

Arndell is an excellent author and I’ve read a few of his other stories, such as No Such Thing as Monsters and Stones. All are beautifully written and I recommend any one of Arndell’s stories.  If you have a few spare moments and want to fill them with something great to read, grab one.

Deadfall Lane gets 5 stars.

You can find all of K.G. Arndell’s books on his author page at Amazon.

Learn more about K.G. Arndell by following his website KGArndell.com and follow him on twitter at @KG_Arndell

K.G. Arndell is a horror, dark fantasy, and speculative fiction writer, aK.G. Arndell is a horror, dark fantasy, and speculative fiction writer, and a winner of the 80th Annual Writer’s Digest Short Story Competition. He’s had a life-long love affair with books, and was weaned on authors like Kurt Vonnegut, Ray Bradbury, Richard Matheson, Arthur C. Clarke and H.G. Wells. Books were always strewn everywhere about the big white house in Indiana where he grew up. He loves literary works (Dickens and Twain, for instance), but his main fascination lies in the fantastic and the macabre, probably because he was so heavily exposed to it early on.

Later he discovered Robert McCammon, Dean Koontz, F. Paul Wilson, Dan Simmons, Ramsey Campbell, and (God help us, everyone) Stephen Edwin King, as well as several others, and the die was indelibly cast.

Right now he lives with his wife in southern California.

Review of Elena: Divinity Rising Issue 1 & 2

Being an author, I try to be more diverse with my reading material, but it’s been a long time since I’ve read a comic book.  I’ve admired the artwork on Elena: Divinity Rising for ages and I jumped at the opportunity to read the first two issues.  If the story was as great as the covers, then I wouldn’t be disappointed.  I was right, these comics are fantastic, and they reminded me of what I’ve been missing!

Elena, a gifted young Russian woman working with the CIA believes she is investigating the terrorist group, Yuri.  She, along with her boss Miller and her friend Alex, soon find the latest threat they face is not Yuri at all, but something far different.

The action in issue #1 starts on the first page and doesn’t stop.  The ending left me scrambling to get into issue #2 to find out what happens next.

I really enjoyed Elena: Divinity Rising and I can’t wait for issue 3 and 4 to come out.

The story is gripping and exciting and the artwork is fantastic.  Darren Pearce and Stuart Jennet did an amazing job putting these issues together.

If you love action, suspense, and explosions, then you’ll love Elena: Divinity Rising.  Grab a copy and dive head first into Elena’s world.  Find out more about this young woman and her extraordinary gift.

I loved these comics and give both issues five stars.

You can purchase your copies at IN2THEREVIEW STORE

Hey, if you are over on social media, you can follow Elena: Divinity Rising on Twitter at @ElenaAnchova and like the Elena Book Series on Facebook.

Happy Reading!

K. R. Rowe

KRRowe.com

Review of KIN by Kealan Patrick Burke

           

Elkwood, AL

A teenage girl is found wandering alone; nude, battered, missing an eye.  Her friends murdered, her captors hot on her trail, she escapes to live another day with the help of an old man and his son.

KIN is the best book I’ve read this year.

Not only did KIN keep me glued to my kindle, Burke’s detailed descriptions horrified me and turned my stomach.  I could almost smell the rancid stench of “Mama-in-bed” and nearly gagged along with her son Luke, when he tasted the putrid funk infusing the air of her room.

Without giving away any of the plot, I have to say that the moments leading up to Luke’s “rebirth” is quite possibly the best and most unsettling scene I have ever read in a book.  Just the thought of this scene disturbed me for days.  So much so, in fact, I had to read it to a few others to disturb them as well.  A good disturbance is meant to be shared.

Burke’s writing style has a unique descriptive quality, both horror and non-horror.  In perfect contrast to the more shocking descriptions, I found quite a few beautifully written lines, such as, ” … consciousness flickering like a candle flame in a draft.”  and “The breeze snatched the smoke from the car, dragging it into the rain.”

This author’s ability to make me love, hate, and empathize with his characters is incredible. In the end, I actually felt sorry for one of those murderous bastards and found myself cheering for him.

Contrary to a statement an Amazon reviewer posted, the family as a unit, did not approve nor condone incest.  These people were sick, murderous, and cannibalistic, but inner family relations were harshly dealt with.  As a Southern girl, I am pleased that Mr. Burke did not fall into this type of stereotypical behavior with the characters of this story.  Yeah, yeah, I know, but I am ok with reading about murder and cannibalism. We all have our demons.

I give this one a firm 5 stars.  In all honesty, I absolutely loved this novel, but if you are easily disturbed, this book may not be for you.

Otherwise, read it!  :)

You can find KIN on Amazon and find more of this authors books on his Amazon Author page.

You can also learn more about Kealan Burke on his website.

The Fourth

I am coveted for my perceived powers

Powers not rising from greatness

But born from the curse of my own deformity

I am but one, standing among thousands

Of three, there are many, but my fourth betrays me

I am plucked, the roots of my soul ripping from the earth

I am treasured, my shell tucked away or discarded in the wind

With the luck that I bear, I cannot save myself

From withering and crumbling to nothing

-K.R.Rowe

@KRRowe

Author Interview

Hey peeps!  I’ve been interviewed by the talented author/blogger Sandy Appleyard.

Check it out!

Karen, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself? Where are you from? What propelled you to start writing?

Great question Sandy, and thank you so much for having me. Way back when, in Chattanooga, TN, (I can’t reveal how long.) Some evil doctor pulled me into this cold ugly world, kicking, screaming, and seriously hungry. As soon as I was old enough, I dragged all of my junk (didn’t really own anything good back then) just a stone’s throw away outside of the city where I still live today. My mother was born in South Carolina and my father was born and raised in Tellico Plains, in the heart of the Appalachian Mountains. Needless to say, I probably have a very mixed up southern accent … (Click here to read more.)

Review of Flowers for Evelene by Joseph A. Pinto

When we first meet Doug, he appears to be a normal average guy, but just a scratch below the surface, we find a tortured, confused man battling a consuming addiction—Evelene.

Doug tried to fight Evelene’s seduction and thought he’d won, but he made a horrid mistake. He invited her into his life again. Now she’s relentless, haunting him, whispering in his ear, convincing him that all those who are dear to him are trying to cause him harm. She pulls him back into her world repeatedly, but will he finally break free, or will he succumb to all she desires?

See for yourself.

I am impressed with the author’s ability to lock us inside the mind of a man who appears to be going insane. The question of Evelene’s existence is always in the forefront our minds. Is she real? Is she a demon? Is she a figment of Doug’s imagination? She is his addiction, and that is about as real as it can get for Doug.

Joseph Pinto’s writing is fluid, descriptive and a joy to read; no stumbling over awkward sentences, no eye-catching errors, just a nice relaxing book with an addictive plot that kept me turning pages as fast as I could.

Just remember, this is erotic horror, so don’t expect your Granny’s Reader’s Digest.

Be prepared for anything.

I gave this one 5 stars.

You can find Flowers For Evelene here:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Learn more about Joseph A. Pinto at  https://josephpinto.wordpress.com/ and follow him on twitter @josephapinto.

Walk Within The Lightning

 

The car smelled; the stench overwhelming. The distinct scent of rotten meat assaulted my nostrils, threatening to bring up my dinner.  Trying not to be conspicuous, I leaned my elbow on the armrest and covered my nose.  Earlier, the smell didn’t seem quite as strong, but now with a storm brewing outside, the rolled up windows sealed in the stench.

I couldn’t get away from it.

When he spoke, he didn’t bother looking my way. “I left a sausage biscuit under the seat for four days. I still haven’t gotten the smell out.”

A sausage biscuit?  It reeked like a four-day-old corpse.  Of all human weaknesses, this irritating sense of smell I despised the most.  The rain had yet to begin, but in the distance, silent strikes of lightning sizzled the angry sky.  I jumped in my seat.  Making things worse, on nights such as these, my grandmother’s superstitions tended to haunt my thoughts.

“When lightning comes before thunder and rain, hide yourself girl,” my grandmother would tell me. “That’s when he comes.”

“Who is he Grandma?”

“His name is evil,” she said. “The souls of those he has claimed walk within the lightning. They chase him, setting the sky ablaze, desperate to reveal him, before he can harvest another.”

“What if I see him? Should I run?”

“If you see him, child, it’s already too late.”

“Is he a bad man?”

Lowering her voice, she gripped my arm, pulling me closer. “Yes, but some say he’s a demonic spirit, wrapped in human skin, living and breathing among us—hiding.”

I never dismissed my grandmother’s superstitions because I knew them to be true. She wasn’t just trying to scare me shitless—Granny had her reasons.  When the disjointed silence haunts that space between lightning strikes, her stories come back to prey on my fears.

The lightning betrays his empty eyes; lays bare his monstrous soul. He fears it, because you’ll know it’s him; his teeth are stained black, his lips crusted with blood, and his cheeks, gorged with the rotten flesh of the dead.

Now I live in fear of the lightning as well.

“I think the storm might blow over,” the man by my side said, interrupting my thoughts. Leaning forward over the steering wheel, he peered toward the churning sky. “No rain.  Maybe we can take a drive out to Possum Creek.”

“At night? I hear that place is haunted. Things happen there—”

“I’ll keep you safe.”

A deviant smile parted his lips, speaking the words he neglected to utter. Foul intent bled from his pores, its stench thickening the already putrid air.  This time, I took a deep lingering breath and held it.  This scent—this unmistakable cloud of malice—was something I lived for.  He flicked his tongue across his lips, coating their bloated surface with slimy anticipation.  My first impression was spot on.  This one was nasty.

I didn’t know his name—and I didn’t care.

I’d been thirsty tonight. The bar was a piece of shit hole in the wall but it gave me a little warmth from this sporadic rain, not to mention a good rum and coke.  I wasn’t afraid to drink alone—in fact, I preferred it.  Many men often vied for my attention, yet something in my eyes always drove them away—but this one was different—he never looked me in the eye.  He thirsted for other things, and I knew that tonight—he was the one.

Rapists, killers and thieves ran rampant in this part of the city. The thought sent excitement skipping along my nerves.  His presence brought with it the anticipation of the hunt: fight or flight, the adrenaline rush, the thrill of discovering who is the hunter and who is the prey.

The car edged off the road and crawled into a dense canopy of trees; twigs snapping beneath balding tires, branches scraping lines in the rust-covered doors. The car finally lurched to a stop behind a curtain of deep shadowed foliage.  The headlights clicked off and the forest went black.

“This isn’t Possum Creek. Where are we?” I asked.

His deep throaty chuckle rattled the review mirror. Leaning across the seat, he wound his fingers into my hair, pulling my face close to his.  He closed his eyes, nuzzling his nose against my neck.

“Don’t worry about where we are.”

Flashes of brilliant white illuminated the thick blanket of night. Choking on the scent of electrified air, I coughed, trying to clear my throat.

But he couldn’t smell it.

Pulling in a long deep lungful of air, he murmured, “I love the lightning.” His breath came hot and fast on my skin. Sliding his hand around my throat, his fingers tightened, increasing pressure with his growing excitement. “So warm, so vulnerable, so alive.”

So alive.  His ominous words filtered through the roar in my ears.  My disappearing breath summoned my strength and I broke his grasp, shoving him away.

He leaned back, as if he’d been slapped. Hard cold eyes scraped down my body, his lips curling into a snarl, “Did you think we came out here to hold hands?”

His pompous anger amused me, and it was my turn to laugh.  But he was right, I had different plans for him.

Lightning flashed, transforming his features; his narrowed eyes now bulged from their sockets, his sneering mouth stretched wide, lips locked in death’s silent scream.

Fear changes a man.

Behind him, the window reflected my hollow dead eyes. From between my blackened lips, human flesh protruded both fresh and long dead, oozing decay, smacking against my chin.  I slurped the bloody mass back inside my mouth, engorging my cheeks.

And I smiled.

The sky wailed, defeated and bleeding despair. Grief blistered the earth with the tears of the dead.  Once again, those in the lightning had failed.  Tonight I feed, but tomorrow I’ll hunger for more.  Maybe one day they’ll stop me, or even destroy me, but for this one, it’s already too late.  I devoured his flesh and threw his soul into the sky.  Now he’ll walk behind me as well.  But Granny was only half right.

The demon beneath this human skin may not be a man, but I do live in fear of the lightning.

-K.R.Rowe

Find me at KRRowe.com and on Twitter @KRRowe.