Vivika Widow's Blog, page 62

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For exclusive look at the Conflict era click HERE.

When the world falls into chaos there will be heroes and villains fighting on all sides with an explosive free for all of epic proportions.

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With the first graphic novel in the series coming this summer log on and choose your side!

 

For fans of gothic horror, follow down a dark path and get lost in the woods of Vivika Widow’s fairy tale world of Red Snow.

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It’s all just Myths and Tales, right?

From the best selling collection of short stories and poems of Vivika Widow comes a daring web series.

Laugh, cry and be drawn into a world of intrigue with stories for readers of all genres to enjoy.

Click HERE to check out all things Myths and Tales.

 

If you are a fan of thrillers then stay right here!

We have all the content you need on Vivika Widow’s best selling novella, Maestro. We take a look at the award winning short story, The Grip. We also have exclusive content on Muse, the latest VW thriller coming this December.

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We have been bowled over with the response to the Knock, Knock series. If you haven’t read it yet you are in the right place. Available only on VW Online, join reporter Sam Crusow as his investigation takes him to a world of murder, mayhem and cheap booze.

Episode 1: Welcome to the club available for you to enjoy!

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Click HERE to see all the available titles from Vivika Widow.

Proceeds from the sales of all novels go towards the Ragdolls UK charity who help girls with Turner’s Syndrome achieve their full potential.

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Silly Confessions (One Year On!)

Happy book birthday to My Silly Little Confessions!

Released this day in 2017 MSLC started it’s life as a short story ‘Confessions of an Anatomist’ in the Myths and Tales collection (volume 1).

Tracey Campbell was such a stand out character for the readers when my publishing firm approached me with the idea of taking the story further and developing it into a full novel I was really excited to be getting into the crazy ladies mind set again.

Based on my own experiences as a medical student and subsequently an author (albeit very loosely), the confessions series is a very personal one to me. The reception it has had has been exciting to say the least and for those of you who haven’t read it yet I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

Click HERE to read now.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MSLC!

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Cuts Like a Knife

On the anniversary of the release of Vivika Widow’s 2017 thriller we are excited to bring you news of the latest thrills, chills and blood spills coming your way this year.

Expected to hit shelves on December 12th, join artist and sculptor David, as he finds his inspiration in the beautiful Leona. Follow him down the dark path his muse leads and prepare for the horror that awaits at the end of it.

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Enjoy this? Subscribe to the page for all the latest updates and see where your own inspiration takes you in this exciting new title from the author of Maestro and The Grip.

Click HERE to check out other titles available!

A screaming crescendo!

Vincent Baines was a seasoned music teacher who thought he had seen it all. That was until he met his latest pupil. Unruly, violent and difficult to contain. Little George Beckingridge held the key to the the dark past of his manor home. Can Vincent get to the route of the child’s manifesting distress before he himself is drawn in too deeply?

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For a limited time only you can download Vivika Widow’s hit thriller MAESTRO for free!

Click HERE to claim your copy.

Knock, Knock (Episode 21): What’s Your Poison?

“Tickets please.”

The woman behind the glass partition looked up to find a tall, slim man with sharp features awaiting her assistance.

“Where are you going, sir?” she asked politely.

Dennis leaned forward and spoke through the small ventilation holes.

“Whichever is the first train out of here,” he said with a charming smile.

She matched his smile and blushed a little. “In a hurry?”

“I’m afraid so.” His impatience was masked by the warm brown eyes that the woman caught once or twice.

“The next train is to Filton,” she said.

Dennis’ grin widened. “Perfect.”

The woman battered her fingers on the key board. Two tickets printed. She pushed them under the glass. Her finger nails were painted a vibrant red.

Dennis took the tickets and adjusted the collar of his brown, camel hair coat.

“It leaves in ten minutes,” said the ticket agent. “Have a great day sir,” she added.

“You have a better one,” he replied.

This made her giggle and at that he tore out the door to make his way to the appropriate platform.

A colleague came to relieve the ticket agent from duty.

“You will have to tell him he needs to treat you better,” she was telling the enthusiastic co worker. The co worker went on about the issues she was having as the agent pulled open one of the long lockers to retrieve her civilian coat. As she pulled the door she felt a heavy weight against it. She lost her grip and the door swung open with a slam against the locker beside it. The body of a young woman tumbled out. The two train station workers screamed. It did no good. Lisa Luren was long gone.

Dennis watched the platform slowly pass behind him as the train rumbled into motion. He was leaving the city behind. His attention was drawn as someone slumped heavily onto the seat opposite.

“So now what?” Dennis asked.

Tabitha removed her hat and sat it on the little table between them like a mother laying their infant to sleep.

“Don’t look so glum,” she said with a wry smile. “You got what you wanted.”

Dennis sighed. “None of this is what I wanted.”

Tabitha folded her arms across her chest and pouted. “You didn’t take a bullet to the gut.” She looked behind her. “I hope there is some service on this thing. I think we could both use a drink.”

“What are we going to do?” enquired Dennis.

“What we always intended to do. We have to let Samuel know his grandson is dead. Then he will sign everything over to me,” said Tabitha.

“Then we will go our separate ways,” Dennis added.

“You can do whatever you want,” replied Tabitha. “You will never have to look upon this face again.” She waved her hand in front of her head as she said that last part. “I would want to stick around though if I were you. It’s just about to get interesting.”

“He could have just been killed. He didn’t have to be brought into the club like that. He had no idea about anything.”

Dennis’ morose air was beginning to frustrate his travel companion.

“Someone could have gotten to him at any moment. I couldn’t risk it. I had to keep him close until I knew for certain he was the real Sam Crusow. It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be though. I did grow quite fond of him.”

“He didn’t deserve any of it.”

Tabitha raised her eyebrows. “If everyone were to get what they deserved this world would fall into chaos.”

Dennis gave a sullen sigh and glanced through the window. The world outside was passing at greater and greater speed.

“It’s been a long time.” Tabitha said looking from the window too. A giddy shiver of excitement overcame her. “I’m going home!”

So Sam has been left behind but the club will always find a way to carry on!

If you enjoyed the series leave your comments below. Subscribe to the page for more series’ from Vivika Widow. You can also see all the titles available in the VW book store.

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Conflict at Christmas: Presidential Pardon

Conflict was top of the agenda throughout the year. It was Philip Owen’s reason for running and it followed him on the campaign trail. The people were impressed by his attitude towards the conflicts and elected him the next President of the United States. He had work to do to deliver on his campaign promises but before his inauguration in January there was still one day when his presidential persona could be put aside – Christmas day.

Jennifer thought her father would have forgotten their traditions being so busy and her mother, Jackie, by his side every step of the way but their ranch in Texas was decorated with the same lights and Philip still had the same boyish look in his eyes he always got at Christmas. As thirteen year old Jennifer fell asleep she did so with a smile. Jackie told her that if her father was elected president a lot of things would have to change. Christmas, she was happy to find, wasn’t one of them.

The morning dawned and Jennifer leapt from her bed. She ran to the main lounge to find Philip waiting for her with open arms. The gifts surrounded him. He wore a grin and a green and white Christmas sweater.

“Come on! Dig in!” Philip cheered.

Jackie joined them, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands. She sat on the sofa facing the fire. Philip remained on the floor beside his daughter as she tore excitedly into the shiny wrapping paper of the gifts that had her name on them.

The first she produced was a hunting knife.

“Be very careful with that,” Jackie warned.

The knife had been the subject of much discussion between Philip and his wife. Both of them had strong arguments for and against. Jackie felt it wasn’t an appropriate gift for a thirteen year old and Philip – a keen debater – reminded the soon to be First Lady that Jennifer could wield weapons better than most adults. She had been hunting since she was seven. In the end it was what Jennifer wanted and that won over all arguments.

When the gifts had been opened Philips phone rang with a Christmas jingle. When he answered Jennifer noticed his face change. He was still smiling but it wasn’t the same one she was familiar with. It wasn’t his true smile. As he conducted his call his arms were still relaxed but his shoulders were set in such a way that wasn’t natural to him. Only someone who knew him as well as his daughter would recognise the difference.

A shadow passed by the window. Aaron Pierce was heading Secret Service detail around the ranch. Jennifer loved that they sacrificed their time with their own families so she could be safe with hers. Their sense of duty resonated with her.

Whilst Philip finished his call and Jackie set about finalising the arrangements for the party they were having that night, Jennifer leaned out the window where Aaron was stood watching the expanse of land in front of them.

“Merry Christmas, Aaron,” she said.

Aaron smiled back at her.

“Merry Christmas, mam,” he replied in a gruff Texan accent.

“Do you want some coffee?” she offered.

“No, thank you,” he said. “Did you have a good morning?”

Again, Jennifer was compelled by Aaron’s need to put his duty first.

“I did,” she said. “Will you see your family today?”

“We’ll all be doing our thing later when we have the change over, then I’ll be back tonight,” he explained.

Jennifer was glad he would have at least some time with his family.

Another Secret Service agent approached. He smiled at Jennifer who waved back. She closed the window and returned to the lounge where Philip was by the fire again.

The following year they would be in the White House so Jennifer absorbed as much of the image of Christmas at the Ranch as she could.

“I think there may be one present missing!” said Philip, raising his eyebrows with a hint of mischief.

Jennifer shook her head but smiled with amusement. “Really dad? Every year?”

Philip laughed heartily. He climbed to his feet and dashed off. He returned momentarily with another parcel with her name on it.

Every year since she was a small kid, Philip had always kept a gift aside for after all the others had been opened. It began when Jennifer was five and she mentioned something was missing from her list. Philip had created such a scene about Santa having left one of her gifts elsewhere in the house. Jennifer was beside herself. Even as she grew older, every year he loved to see the joy on her face as they recreated that same scene.

“Oh! Who could this be for?” he cheered returning to the floor with the gift. Jennifer shared the laughter.

That night, dad would become his presidential persona again. Her mother would be mingling and making sure she made the best connections. As he went deeper and deeper into his presidency Jennifer would have to remind herself more and more of the true man Philip Owen was with his warm eyes and goofy traditions, his love of Christmas and his family. The true man wasn’t something many people would get to see as he took on the responsibility of the country and Conflict became top of the agenda again.

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Join us in 2018 when the Conflict becomes the very top of the agenda and Fall of Freedom hits the shelves as a graphic novel.

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Knock, Knock: Episode 20; Curtain Call

“You’re the last Crusow,” Dennis reminded me. “Your grandfather started all of this and it can end with you.”

“Leaving isn’t an option,” I replied. “I have tried that. They always seem to just find me.”

Dennis seemed to sober up in an instant. His shoulders began to tremble.

“I was thinking of something a little more permanent.”

I assumed he was joking but when his expression didn’t change I told him, “I don’t think that is going to help anything.”

The truth was, I didn’t have much going for me. I had lost everything but still a part of me was attached to breathing.

“Besides,” I went on, “the club succeeded well before without me and I haven’t had much to do with it’s success since. What makes you think my death would make any difference?”

“Without a Crusow around the club would implode. It was close to it before Tabitha found you. That was why she was so eager to bring you here. The fact that she fell in love with you and will be crushed is an added bonus.”

He gave way a wry smile but my enthusiasm was waning so he altered his approach.

“Think of the lives that will be saved by ending this thing.”

“That’s what Julianne overheard? They are afraid of losing me and if they did it would ruin them?”

I thought it was a little selfish of me to live on when I knew I could end it all. Theresa didn’t have that option, neither did Maddy.

“Think of the lives that will be saved,” Dennis repeated. He knew he was getting through to me.

“Fine,” I agreed. “But there is something I have to do first.”

***

A few days passed. Dennis kept his distance from me. He was still grieving the loss of Milo so his morose demeanour drew no attention. When he had fully sobered up he probably assumed I had changed my mind. He didn’t speak to me. In fact, except in the cases of interaction with the club patrons, he barely spoke to anyone.

Tabitha had a keen sense of people. She knew something had transpired between us.

“He’s taking it hard,” she commented after she came off stage the second night.

I was a reporter and damn good at my job. I knew when someone was trying to open me up to sharing more information than I should. I turned the question back on her.

“Wouldn’t you?”

She studied me. Maybe she felt like she had met her match or maybe she just got bored. She swirled the neon pink straw around the glass of gin in her hand and placed the straw between her lips.

“He had a theory,” I told her.

She removed the straw and smiled. She was a pretty girl. She was vibrant and alluring. I felt I had more in common with her then than I ever did with my wife. We were connected on a deep, familial level.

“He reckons you love me. That is why I’m being kept here.”

Her smile didn’t fade but she ran her finger tip along her lip as though she was covering something. She allowed silence to fall between us.

“He said that, did he?” she enquired.

“Is it true?” I pressed.

“We are connected. We always will be.”

***

The following night I stayed in the club. I watched Tabitha’s performance. She sang with a sultry voice and danced with great energy. She lapped up her audiences admiration like a thirsty dog.

I caught Dennis’ eye once or twice. He remained beside the bar with the serving girl named Lisa Luren, supplying him with more drink and cigarettes. I thought at first he would approach me. It had been a few days since we discussed my taking my own life and ending Knock, Knock. What he didn’t know was that I had picked up the gun that he had had that night Milo met his untimely end. I kept it hidden in a wooden panel of my bed frame. I knew my room was searched whenever I wasn’t in it so when I had it on my person that night.

I thought I would have been nervous but to my surprise I was calm. Dennis was right. My death would send the club into turmoil. It would cause Tabitha to lose focus and control. I know Theresa’s mother would be certainly glad to learn I was gone.

Tabitha’s performance ended in a blaze of glory and applause as always. What little food that had been available to serve was used up. The patrons of the club filtered out. As I watched them leave I wondered which of them knew what happened when the Knock, Knock doors were closed. I wonder if they knew the true cost of the food and drink they plied themselves with. Those who didn’t would find out soon enough. Access to the club was by invitation only.

The two large heaps of muscle that guarded to door were the last to leave. Most of the girls stayed at the club and ventured off for their beauty sleep.

Tabitha closed the door and shut the world out.

“It’s been a long night,” she gasped, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She had bundled her thick, brunette hair on top of her head in a messy bun. She would have looked quite sweet if I wasn’t aware of how nasty she could be.

That was when I drew the gun. I pointed it at Tabitha first. Dennis stepped forward but said nothing. Tabitha gave him a quick glance before turning her gaze back on me.

“You’re going to kill me?” she asked.

I turned the gun and placed the barrel to my own head.

“No,” I replied. “I’m going to kill myself.”

She reached one of her hands out to me they way one would if a wild animal was bearing down on them.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she spat.

Dennis still said nothing but his eyes had widened and his lips parted.

“Dramatic!” I cried. “You took everything from me! My friends, my family, my career.” I took a deep breath. “My wife is dead because of you.”

This time Tabitha put both hands up.

“I never harmed a hair on Theresa’s pretty little head,” she stated. She turned to Dennis. “If you would like to know what happened to her ask your friend here.”

I lowered the gun and awaited Dennis’ explanation. He shook his head.

“I didn’t …” he stammered. “They made me…”

It turns out my beloved wife had found comfort when I was not around in the tall, dark, stranger. She had grown to trust Dennis. She grew to love him even. He was the one who had slipped her the poison that took her life.

“I didn’t want to hurt her,” he said. “The things they would have done to her to get to you would have been much worse. I was protecting her.”

I felt a surreal wash of sentiments come over me. I was furious at this revelation. My temples throbbed but the rest of my body was numb with everything I had been through.

“You bastard!” I cried. “I thought you were trying to help me. You put me in this God damned place and had a go with my wife first!”

I waved the gun at him. I had only managed to find one bullet and I fully intended on using it on myself. Thinking of Theresa with Dennis in my own bed made me furious beyond description. They didn’t know that though. I had been so focused on Dennis I hadn’t noticed Tabitha loom closer to me. She put her hand on my upper arm that held the gun and slowly pushed it down.

“I’m here for you,” she said. “It’s just you and me. Together we can build something great. People are so consumed with their own selfish desires. The world is a cesspit. It is a pit Theresa and Madeline and all the other’s couldn’t survive in. Madeline tried to live in it but she didn’t have what it took.

Greed, anger, hunger and a ruthless fight to make it to the top of that pit is all that awaits you out there. We can change that. We can build the world around us the way we want it.”

She pushed the gun down further and pressed against me. Dennis watched on in stunned silence.

“Forget all of them. If there is something you want to change in the club we can change it. Dennis was right about something. When I brought you here I didn’t expect to grow to love you.”

With a sharp intake of breath she pressed her lips against mine. I pulled back.

“Love me?” I repeated. “You only love yourself.”

That was when it happened. The gun cracked. The shot fired. Tabitha fell backwards against the bar clutching her abdomen. Blood was streaming between her fingers. All colour had drained from her face. Her eyes were so wide I caught my reflection on the whites of them still holding the gun as she fell limp to the floor.

“Before you say anything,” Dennis warned. “With her gone we are both as good as dead.”

I was still determined to make my stage exit but it was going to be on my own terms.

***

So that’s what brings me here. The end of it all. I had it all in front of me once. I was climbing the ladder of my career as a journalist, I had a loving wife and although it was nothing special I had a roof over my head which was more than many people in the city could say. I had been fooling myself though. I was only in a job so someone, somewhere could keep a close eye on me. My pretty wife was having an affair with the man who eventually killed her. The roof over my head became the seediest, filthiest hole you could ever hope to find. To top it all off, my wife’s murderer was my only hope. He was the closest thing I had to a friend.

The moral of this story? I guess there is none. I got some of that poison Dennis could make. He assured me that it was as quick and painless a way to go as any. I hope so because all that was left of it was an empty glass. I’m sat now in my room at the top of the club waiting for it’s effects to kick in.

Dennis said he was going to do the same. I quite liked the idea of seeing the look on Theresa’s face when Dennis and I both turn up in the afterlife together to greet her. I was expecting too much though If I expected him to be a man of his word. I saw him heading down the alley arm in arm with the serving girl, Lisa Luren. It didn’t matter anyway. He wouldn’t get far.

I hope my story will be found and the Knock, Knock exposed for the horrors that lie behind it’s doors. It will be my greatest journalistic achievement.

With these final words I find myself becoming weak. If you receive an invitation to the Knock, Knock club, don’t accept.

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Want to follow the story from the beginning?

Knock, Knock (Episode 1): Welcome to the Club

Knock, Knock (episode 2): Don’t Come Knockin’

Knock, Knock (Episode 3): Sleep Tight Sam

Knock, Knock (Episode 4): Take A Bow

Knock, Knock (Episode 5): Big City Kid

Knock, Knock (Episode 6): Picking Up Strange Women

Knock, Knock (Episode 7): A Night Cap At The Club)

Knock, Knock (Episode 8): Just A Quick One

Knock, Knock (Episode 9) The Daddy Of Them All

Knock, Knock (Episode 10): Calling Last Orders

Knock, Knock (Episode 11): A Room with a View

Knock, Knock (Episode 12): It’s not Me it’s You

Knock, Knock (Episode 13): Rollin’ on into darkness

Knock, Knock (Episode 14): Kid’s These Days

Knock, Knock (Episode 15): Down in the Dumps

Knock, Knock: Episode 16 (Shooting the Breeze)

Knock, Knock (Episode 17): Behind Closed Doors

Knock, Knock (Episode 18): No Kids Allowed

Knock, Knock (Episode 19): Getting Backstage

Before you collect your coat at the door, the Knock, Knock club would like to make a final announcement.

Knock, Knock (Episode 21): What’s Your Poison? will be Live 24.12.2017

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High Five: Part 5; The Executioner

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Criminal Profile: 170 -8198 – A3

Name: Andrei Borkov

Alias: The Executioner

Age: 34

Build: Average

Height: 6′ 2”

Weight: 217Ibs

Eye Colour: blue

Hair Colour: Blonde

Scars or distinguishing marks?

A tattoo of the Yugasov flag on his chest.

Charges:

Murder: first degree

Human Trafficking

Genocide

Rape

Sexual Assault

Grievous Bodily Harm

Extortion with threats to damage property

Extortion with threats to kill

Torture

Unlawful weapons testing

Psychological Report:

A narcissistic personality disorder with sadomasochistic tendencies. He shows no remorse for his crimes. A high functioning sociopath with extremely dangerous world views.

He is cunning and manipulative. Brute force appears to have no effect in gaining his co operation.

He has a grandiose sense of self which when challenged will result in hostility. One interviewer was assaulted.

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Subscribe to the page and immerse yourself in more images and stories from the Conflict series. Coming soon as a graphic novel.

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High Five: Part 4; The Monk

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Criminal Profile:

Name: Reese Millow

Alias: The Monk

Age: Unknown

Build: Average

Height: 5′ 9”

Weight: 195Ibs

Eye Colour: blue

Hair Colour: brown

Scars or distinguishing marks?

An untreated instance of glaucoma has left his eyes with a slight yellow discolouration.

Charges:

Murder: first degree

Conspiring to murder

Kidnapping

Sexual Assault

Rape

Enslavement

Being disguised with unlawful intent

Psychological Report:

Experiences long psychotic episodes where he believes himself to be the messenger of a supreme being he refers to as Gardieu.

His large following can be attributed to his overwhelming personality as well as the connections he has forged with powerful figures in society.

His dissociative trance disorder could be the result of foreign substances found in his blood.

During the examination we discovered that when any questions were posed on his childhood he developed a nervous stutter.

He completely lacks empathy. Internment will not change this.

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High Five, Part 3 – The General

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Criminal Profile:

Name: Maka Adaswele

Alias: The General

Age: 43

Build: Average

Height: 6’3”

Weight: 233Ibs

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Black

Scars or distinguishing marks?

Has numerous scars on his back, neck and arms. He is missing his left eye.

Charges:

Murder: first degree

Genocide

Human trafficking

Drug trafficking

Rape

Enslavement

Torture

Grievous bodily harm

Animal cruelty

Unlawful hunting

Psychological Report:

A dangerous individual who lacks education. His large following can be attributed to the brute force he is willing to use.

Following the guidance of the psychopathic individual known only as Quotongo he has been responsible for the complete destruction of a large section of the Jai Jai tribe in West Africa.

A dependent personality could be the underlying reason for his complete reliance on the Quotongo persona allowing him to distance himself from the atrocities he committed.

A Global Crisis can always lead to Conflict!

Conflict: Fall of Freedom will be coming soon as a graphic novel.

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