“H” Hijacked by Matt Harrill and Help for Orphans of Ebola

front-cover-229x348 hellbounce

She was left alone in the car. It was night and there was nobody about. The sense of unease had not lessened, and the same strange smell of iron permeated this car as it had the other.

Eva got out, looking for Sajhid. Nothing. She was completely alone. Presuming the answer to lie in the trunk of the car, she walked to the back and popped the catch. The lid sprang up and a waft of carrion assaulted her nose. A large object in the rear of the car was the cause of the stench. Flicking on her torch revealed dark stains everywhere, and the size of the object caused her to pause. It was about six feet in length, curled up. A man.

Leaning over to examine the body, Eva was careful not to touch it. He looked as though he had been torn apart from the tears and gashes in his middle. His head was at an irregular angle, his face fixed in a silent scream of horror. The blood was everywhere.

This confirmed what Eva had begun to suspect. Sajhid was not the driver. This man was. As she flicked the torch off, and closed the trunk, she thought back over the conversations they had had. He didn’t really know anything about her and the others until she had supplied the information. His views on the attacks, the strange happenings. They were far too whimsical for somebody set against the evil that threatened to overwhelm them all.

She was still alone by the car, and for that she was thankful. Now she only had one thought. Escape. This Sajhid was driving her where she wanted to go, but for a completely different reason.

Getting back in, the interior light showed her to have blood all over her hands. Taking a bottle of water, she rinsed them and wiped them off with some tissue. She cracked the door open to dispose of the evidence, Sajhid stood just outside. Eva screamed.

“Are you well?”

“I was freshening up. You startled me.”

Eva wrapped the tissues in a bundle and tossed them nonchalantly to the foot well. “There’s so much mess here I don’t really think a couple of tissues will matter.”

“Indeed. We shall sort out the mess soon enough.” Sajhid got back into the driver seat and started the engine.

***

The journey from that point onwards for Eva was one of confinement. Sajhid drove too fast to allow her to jump out without serious injury, and as night faded and the sun began to rise, the early morning seemed that much colder for her predicament. She had no idea where they were driving, except that Madden and her only hope of salvation were ahead.

The air inside the car was stifling, and as the day began to warm, Eva moved to open the window.

“I would not do that,” Sajhid warned. “Accidents can happen when windows are open too wide. You should just leave it shut.” He kept his eye on her, barely looking at the road.

At first, she stared back, but the whites of his eyes widened a little too much; it was clear now exactly what he was. Trapped, Eva began to lose hope. She would go where he wanted.

***

This is the second installation (excerpt from the novel Hellbounce)

 *** I will be giving at least one of Matt’s books away. So each comment ( for Matt’s G- L) counts toward winning!***

Matt Harrill is the author of the trilogy TheArc Chronicles.

Matthew W Harrill lives in the idyllic South-West of England, nestled snugly in a village in the foothills of the Cotswolds. Born in 1976, he attended school in Bristol and received a degree in Geology from Southampton University. By day he plies his trade implementing shareplans for Xerox. By night he spends his time with his wife and four children. (and he writes sci-fi horror).

I have a delightful interview of Matt as well. He really is an interesting chap and his writing is to die for…

Chat with him on twitter @matt_harrill

You can find Matt on Amazon and will be glad that you did!!!

 

The HELP – As we get closer to finalizing the book “A Song for Liberia” , we will need  people/ bloggers to help to share about the book.  As I was sharing with a friend the other day, few people realize that there are at least 10,000 children (the reported numbers are low) who are now orphaned because of the Ebola epidemic.

Others who are enjoying the A to Z Challenge as well:

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“G” Gluttony by Matt Harrill

Today we continue with our body bag count. Not sure what our numbers are- Steve Slack racked them up quickly. Today we are switching authors and will enjoy Matt Harrill’s slealthy, predator as he circles…front-cover-229x348 hellbounce

“EVA!” Brian yelled from behind her.

She stopped and turned. He was perhaps a hundred yards or so back; the crowd had bunched around him.

“If thou hast done foolishly in lifting up thyself, or if thou hast thought evil, lay thine hand upon thy mouth. What benefit did you reap at that time from the things you are now ashamed of? Those things result in death!”

Brian was quoting the Bible? Before Eva could respond, the smiling woman lifted the girl into the air, and passed her to him. The feeling of hunger magnified a hundredfold, and the crowd began to growl, unutterable sounds that could not be recognised as human. There was an eager anticipation in the air, as if an abomination was about to be unfettered.

As one, the mob surged at Brian, and both he and the girl disappeared from view. Eva couldn’t see what was going on, but the mob piled into the space where Brian had stood, baying and scrapping.

Eva felt compelled to join them, but something inside her fought the feeling, preventing her from moving. She stood, immobile, as others ran past her to dive in.

Above it all, there was a piercing wail, tortured and desperate, extinguished almost as soon as it began. It wasn’t Brian they were after. He wasn’t protecting the child. He was slaughtering her! Then a flash of red sprayed up from the seething mass, and Eva began to scream.

*** I will be giving at least one of Matt’s books away. So each comment ( for Matt’s G- L) counts toward winning!***

Matt Harrill is the author of the trilogy The Arc Chronicles.

Matthew W Harrill lives in the idyllic South-West of England, nestled snugly in a village in the foothills of the Cotswolds. Born in 1976, he attended school in Bristol and received a degree in Geology from Southampton University. By day he plies his trade implementing shareplans for Xerox. By night he spends his time with his wife and four children. (and he writes sci-fi horror).

I have a delightful interview of Matt as well. He really is an interesting chap and his writing is to die for…

Chat with him on twitter @matt_harrill

You can find Matt on Amazon and will be glad that you did!!!

I will also add a quick plug for “Song for Liberia” a project that will benefit orphans of Ebola. More about that project here.

Bloggers who are enjoying the A to Z Challenge:

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Dry to the Bone #devotion #poetry #faith

desert rocks

A hand reaches up from the scorched earth

what life there was has been sucked dry

his lips can barely shape the words “Leper”

he once was young and alive

bounding like a lamb on green pastures

feet barely touched the earth for the glee

but somewhere upon the way

life took a horrible fee

it wasn’t all at once

leprosy of the heart is a slow disease

bit by bit the flesh fails

thirsting for what it can’t be

it clamors for more death

morality degrades and twists

eating the soul alive

each day vigor replaced with dust

even the desert has her moment

of color and vibrant day

you walk into the land of the forgotten

all there chose to fail and fade

*****

 

In Luke 17, there is a story of 10 lepers who are healed by Jesus. “Go, live life enjoy what you were losing,” The healer’s hands must have said.What he didn’t add, “Your leprosy is an external expression of the human condition.Without God, You will find yourself withering to dust again.” One of ten returned to praise the healer. Is it true then that only one in ten, on this earth, will thank God for his daily mercies? May it not be so for the desert is a dry,  life taking land.

“11 While He was on the way to Jerusalem, He was passing [a]between Samaria and Galilee. 12 As He entered a village, ten leprous men who stood at a distance met Him; 13 and they raised their voices, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” 14 When He saw them, He said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they were going, they were cleansed. 15 Now one of them, when he saw that he had been healed, turned back, glorifying God with a loud voice, 16 and he fell on his face at His feet, giving thanks to Him. And he was a Samaritan. 17 Then Jesus answered and said, “Were there not ten cleansed? But the nine—where are they? 18 [b]Was no one found who returned to give glory to God, except this foreigner?” 19 And He said to him, “Stand up and go; your faith[c]has made you well.”

Luke 17:11-19

 

Too Young #terrorism #children #poetry

frozen leaf

Chilled by the hawk’s distant cry

unwelcome wings on the horizon

life threatening wind approaches

I need no eagle eye

Frozen by the headlines

man sharpens cold steel

children trying their hand

paralyzed beyond my spine

Motionless I await

this storm front from Hell

sensible is lost in radical thought

people plead at heaven’s gate

*

Child beheads a Syrian captive.  Is this what our world wants 8-year-old children to do in their spare time????

Boys in all countries (including the US ) are indoctrinated as young as 8 to be gang members (which would include rape, drug dealing, killing). A patient of mine was 5 when he joined his gang.

 

 

 

Cursed by Fire Cursed by Stalker #horror #art

 

horror week

 

If you look at the contrasts of the two artists (Bosch and Kubicki), you see many. One is black and white and one is color. There’s alot of movement in Bosch‘s The Harrowing of Hell as well as symbolism in this rendition of Hell.  Do you hear the flames licking at the pleading souls? People are looking for an escape from the worst part only to find a new horror.

There is a different kind of horror in the Kubicki something akin to an inability to run. Look at the strands of hair; they closely resemble glass broken at a harsh angle. Is there a way out? No! Is the skin drying out (starting to melt) from a similar heat?

Symbolism in art is rich. As you look deeper you will see more even if you wish you had not delved into the dark.

 

Follower_of_Jheronimus_Bosch_-_The_Harrowing_of_Hell“When the Birthday boy or girl doesn’t blow out all the candles in one breath, they get the Candle-Curse.”

“And the remaining flames act as a doorway from Hell where demons escape to exact their dark deeds upon the failed candle blower,” Barney explained, speaking in a campfire spook-story voice.”…

…Dustin dreamt of fire…

…A hot and hungry blaze tore through the house. He was upstairs at the table, watching. He stood motionless, petrified by the sight of demons leaping into his world through the flames. His spine froze and he shivered despite the rising heat around him…

… It reached out a hand, stopping the upturned fist inches from Dustin’s face. Slowly unraveling its fingers, the demon revealed a single candle, standing straight in the palm of its hand.

~Tyr Kieran is a regular writer for Pen of the Damned. His short story Anti-Wish can be read in its entirety here.

 

blog http://tyrkieran.com

Twitter: @tyrkieran

blood drips

 

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… the portrait you drew is beautiful. The careful way you have rendered each fine stroke of my eyelashes and hair. My eyes are large dark orbs, the light in them extinguished. The drawing stares back at me from the page, frail and petrified. It is as if I was really there before you as you drew me. You have captured it well, that is how I feel. But there are a few things about me you are yet to glimpse.

I have left it for you here, this is where we part for now. By the time you enter the warehouse I will be gone, slipping away into the dark maze of the city, far from you…

And then you will finally find her, over by the wall, bound to a chair with heavy tape. Will a scream, sharp as a razor, catch in your throat?…

…With a face lift and a short dark wig she looks just like me, don’t you think? My scent on her body now. I dressed her in the lingerie and dress I wore when you first saw me. I thought you would like that. The first time you singled me out from the crowd, the first time I felt the suffocating weight of your gaze. Yes, our time is coming soon. We are destined to meet, as both you and I know. But not tonight.

 

~ Magenta Nero is a regular horror writer for Pen of the Damned her story Black Widow  is featured this week. Please check here for the entirety of the short story (Stalkers)  that is excerpted above. 
Blog: Magenta Nero – Dark Fiction Author
Twitter: @Magenta_Nero

 

blood drips

Find Tyr on Amazon

 

 

 

 

 

 

Many thanks to Jarek Kubicki who has graciously allowed me to put his art with the horror “pieces” this week. His book (below) comes out in 4 days!!!

 

kubicki book

 

The Surreal Marriage in Hell #art #poetry #horror

 

 

Hell Bosch

I was married in hell

to the man who rolled dice

who dependent on the number

slept with women “oh how nice”

*

Their bodies were the cure

for misogynism so it seems

he loved to dissect them

carry parts off in his dreams

*

turn the crank

do my bidding

you there woman

naked only, where you’re sitting

*

a tree branch is as successful

at eating sweet cake

but where I come from in Kansas

what you’re doing is rape

*

” there is consolation in this”

things seems to be warming

I stand off and I smile

but you’re heedless to the warning

*

I’m looking askance

as you devour that body

you will choke on her flesh

your face reflects haughty

*

cockroaches seem not to mind

when a pit is ahead

warm places to breed

in the bodies of the dead

~mdw

Are you familiar with the artist Hieronymous Bosch? It’s been a long while since I looked deep into his paintings.

I have to admit I was always uncertain about his message. I do know that he painted many pictures of Hell.

Different art historians looked at his work and message quite differently: from nightmarish dreams, to the inventor of monsters, to a Dutch painter who painted from the medieval  notions contrasting good and evil.

I believe Bosch was a solitary figure only 7 paintings bear the signature of the artist. There are more in his style that are attributed to the artist, but there is a belief that there are more works that he is not given credit for.  His late 15th century art conveys  an early sense of the surreal much like that of Salvador Dali who would paint unforgettable (but still hard to understand) images 400 years later.

I hope that Bosch leaves you a bit uncomfortable. I believe that was his intention.

Nightmarish dreams works for me…

gerard-david-01

This painting is by Dutch painter Gerard David a contemporary of Bosch. The paintings of the day were flat nativity scenes and portraiture.

Bosch was definitely ahead of his time and maybe uncomfortable with his artist genius.

Please join me next week as I’ll spend the week creating a mosaic of dark art and contemporary horror writing. Tis the season …

Despise Humanity (by J Moon)

Writing  at 2am seems to be my M.O.  Writing poetry with my son at 2am – well we do our deepest thinking at 2am – go figure. Hoping he will create his own blog

Despise Humanity

Ignorance is bliss

society amiss

they lied to you in school

they told you all was cool

the raining fire tells

all has gone to Hell

say goodbye to blue sky

fields things that fly

terra has been dethroned

left only shadows  and bones

but I don’t know what to say

hope -there is no ray