Wednesday 30 October 2013

Halloween story

4. Heart

Author’s note: This is a very short one. Don’t expect an explanation of why, who, what, where. It’s one of those stories that make you wonder later on. I enjoyed the way The Twilight Zone shorts did that for me.

Unashamedly trinket adorned, the cozy home appeared well lived in and smelled of old things and old people. Not stale nor dusty, in fact the exact opposite, spotless and tidy with everything so neat and orderly that it may have been a display home. No sounds emanated from anywhere inside the two bedroom home, except maybe a squeak or groan with the shift of timber and plaster.
The only occupant would also not return for a few days, if even at all. Of this, the man who stood in the lounge room of this home, was certain. Opportunities arose often, he just had to be alert enough to make use of them. A few days earlier the woman of the house was taken away in need of medical aid. The source of his knowledge had come only two days past, after overhearing her neighbours talking near an ambulance. They had said the old woman phoned for help complaining of a tightness in her chest and shortness of breath. She had not looked well, one of them had said, as he walked past them on his way to the supermarket to look for unlocked cars.
This had given him absolute freedom to search her home for anything of value. The back door, his first obstacle, had been much too easy to force open, merely requiring a push with his shoulder a few times until the warn timber cracked. He had laughed, then quickly put his hand over his mouth and scanned the property for sign of neighbours. Then shuffled inside, a smile on his lips.
He studied the lounge room and furniture, touching, weighing and deciding what to take. He then reached a room which had been converted from a bedroom to an office and found papers piled neatly on the desk but oddly covered in a heavy dust. Strange since the rest of the house had been cleaned and dusted so thoroughly.
The stack of papers appeared to be bills and invoices, nothing worthy of his attention. Also on the desk, a picture of the old woman and a man, possibly her deceased husband. Although it was bordered with a silver frame, just in need of some polishing to receive some decent cash for it.
One desk drawer, the top one, had been jammed partly closed, but still slightly ajar. He stopped his rummaging and closed one eye to look inside and pierce the dark. Loose change and notes had been stuffed inside, which is what had kept the door from closing properly. Indeed, so full that the drawer wouldn’t budge either way. He persisted, and would take the whole desk with him or return with an axe if need be. Finally the drawer shot open and the handle tore from the timber. The notes, money and the drawer crashed to the ground.
With a smile on his lips, an outside person would see as a mixture of child-delight as well as self appreciation, he began to fill his bag and pockets.
A clunk sounded from the other side of the room and he stopped mid-way stuffing his third handful into his pockets, cash crinkling in his fists. A coin dropped from his hand and clanked on the hard wood floor. The thief jumped, then cursed himself for being so dim-witted. He stared to where the sound had come from and saw that the closet door had come partly open. Only a crack and on silent oiled hinges.
A cat maybe? He crept forwards to investigate wondering if other treasures may be found in this small office. Rather than being riddled with starving felines.
As he reached the closet door a white face poked out from the dark shadows. The face growled. A man, not a cat, too high. The knowing and self appreciating smile fell away and he jumped back against the old oak desk. The picture of the old man and his wife fell to the floor and the glass smashed. The old man from the picture. This was him, although pale and ugly. Something beyond what any man should look like.
The man leapt from the closet, frothy saliva spat from his mouth in large globules. Unintelligible words croaked from his dry cracked lips staining his white sweaty complexion. His grey-silver eyes burned cold with pin prick irises and deadly fever.
Cold hands clasped the thief’s throat, then pressure until a crack sounded, and another, then finally a sickening crunch.
The powder white hands released their grip and the body fell to the ground with a thump. The man walked slowly back to the closet with his head drooping as if tired. Once inside, he closed the door and stood in darkness again.

End

Tuesday 29 October 2013

Questions and Answers on writing and publishing

To all out there looking to ask questions on writing - this forum is for you.
And for the people with all the answers on writing.

Post here and your questions will be answered!

(Please note that all questions and answers will be approved promptly once you post them. I have set this up to prevent spamming).

Sunday 20 October 2013

Blurred lines parody with zombies

We've put something together that you will find dodgy but also get a laugh from.
A Robin Thicke video clip but using the cast I had for the 1 minute video involving zombies.

This is the youtube vid:
http://youtu.be/NElIqaJtl74

This is a website involving the zombie watching:

And this is the website by Tech Dynamics and the video they wanted to show:


Enjoy!

Thursday 17 October 2013

Looking for something to do Halloween weekend in Melbourne?

Come along to a secret room, in a secret hall in a spooky old building...and indulge in an evening of frights and delights, cheap drinks, lotsa free lollies and scarily sexy performers!

Party games, photo booth and some very unexpected surprises... come dressed in Halloween costume for a free drink on arrival...prizes for the best – and most creepily – dressed...and don't worry if you don't bring a costume, there are free Halloween masks at the door!

https://www.facebook.com/Popupeventsmelbourne

Sunday 13 October 2013

ZADS kill zombies

Tech Dynamics is proud to have acquired a short video captured by satisfied customers, in the moment that our ZADS clean up their city of zombies and other viral affected humans.

See the website and watch as the streets are made safe again, once more.

http://techdynamicsnyc.wix.com/zads

Note: All uploaded footage remains the property of Tech Dynamics, New York, LLC.

Wednesday 9 October 2013

Important information on a publishing contract

If you are in the process of being published but haven't quite signed on, then I suggest you read this important information on contracts.
It come from Marisa A. Corvisiero, a literary agent from corvisieroagency.com Which is her own business, built from representing writer friends through her law firm. So it does seem like she knows what she's talking about.

I've been reading up on her, considering she represents people in my genre, so will could be sending off a query letter to her this month once I narrow the list down.

Take heed and read her blog here:
http://www.thoughtsfromaliteraryagent.blogspot.com.au/2011_08_01_archive.html

Mat Clarke
matclarke.wranga.com.au
matclarkeauthor.wix.com/novelist

Pink Ribbon night of cabaret!

Pop-Up Events is banding together with Cancer Council Victoria to throw an amazing show in support of women's cancer research on the 12th October at the Butterfly Club, Carson Place off Lt Collins Street in the city.

Everyone is donating their time and services free of charge to the fundraiser, and include some of the best Cabaret and Burlesque performers in Australia.
The performers confirmed for the show so far are:

Jessamae St James
Elena Gabrielle (MC)
Adelaide Everheart
Raven (Mr Boylesque Australia 2012)
Miss Sarah James
Betty Bombshell
Autumn Evergreen
Delores Daiquiri
Jessebella
Kate Lumsden Trio (Vocals)
Rod Lara (Impersonator)
 
Show starts at 10.30 and runs till about midnight.
Tickets $23 presale at:

All proceeds from the night will go to the Cancer Council for women's cancer research.
More details at www.facebook.com/popupeventsmelbourne
Registered on the Cancer Council Website:

Thursday 3 October 2013

Drunk guy gets into trouble - 31 Odd Short Stories

26. Wrong Way

Author’s note: I wrote this as part of the writing games I host once a month and definitely got a laugh from what I had produced. It’s a bit of a weird one and may require you to be a bit tipsy to understand why the main character behaves the way he does.

***

He could still taste the bitter dregs of his last beer. He wanted more. He should have put that bastard in crutches, down. No one speaks to him like that.

Too drunk to have another drink! Yeah right. The guy wouldn’t know his asshole from a good beer. He kicked the tyre of the nearest car; a white utility with black marks down the side showing where it had been sideswiped. Serves him right. He kicked the metal, but his black boot didn’t make a discernible mark on the dented panels.

Gary turned in a circle to look out over the semi-vacant car park, then had to hold onto the utility to get his balance again.

Nothing else open. No people. No cars. Just houses.

Where in the good name of baby Jesus were all the stinking bars?

He hadn’t seen a cab for the last 20 minutes. Had they gone on strike or what? Gary stumbled into the side of a Honda, then punched the side mirror to teach it to not get in his way.

He looked up again and around the carpark. It felt like he had been walking around the place forever. And it smelled like asshole. He blinked back at the bar and his mind spun. Was that another bar or did he come from there?

Thoughts of being inside, nice and warm, and sipping on another drink or five, made him concentrate on working out how to make such a scene become a reality again. Like a spinning lighthouse he went from idea to idea, brushing each aside as he thought of them.

He should have punched that guy’s face when he told him to get out.

He now realised he needed to piss.

A street light buzzed overhead. Moths and other bugs darted about, confused over a lone light in the dark. The splatter of urine sung out from the concrete car park and sprayed down his trouser leg.

“Stupid piss. Go where I tell you.”

He lifted his aim and made hills of urine across the red panels of the Honda.

“What the... in all the hell whores, what you doing to my car!”

Gary heard someone yell, but it may as well have been from over the other side of the road, in a house and behind three walls, for how much he heard and understood him. He turned his head to the sound, and his body followed. The splatter of his piss went down in volume and the guys yelling went up to eleven. Gary kept turning and twisted his legs around, then fell against the car he had been urinating on and slid across in the urine into the side mirror again. This time stopping him from falling to the ground. Must have learned its lesson, he decided.

He turned his attention back to the guy walking towards him. Was there two guys or one over there? He closed one eye and squinted. Okay, just one.

“Me?” Gary said, believing he had used a sober tone.

“You lousy, filthy piss-head. Pull up your pants and cover your helmet. Then I’m gonna rip your stupid head off.”

Gary thought for a moment. It may have taken a second, but it felt like he had spent half the night deciding on what to do, but he did decide then that he was too drunk to fight. He hadn’t actually ever fought anyone in his life and he guessed now wasn’t the time to start. Also, this guy stood a head taller and definitely a lot wider.

“Get stuffed ya tub of crap,” Gary yelled.

An idea came to mind. Probably his only good one for the night. If this guy was that fat, he would never be able to chase him down if he ran away. He grunted at his brilliant idea and began a long mumbled laugh.

He didn’t bother zipping up, although he had finished his piss, so everything would be okay down there for now. He didn’t have a big dick anyway so it barely flopped about in the brisk air. He could hear his own footsteps but not anyone else’s. And without any cars around or any people, he could tell the guy had decided not to follow him. Slow bugger. He probably didn’t even get out of the carpark.

Gary slowed and looked back down the road. Nothing. The street stayed dead and dark. Each silent tall skinny house stared out across to the other side or at him, dim-witted and curtains drawn.

Frost crept across windshields and bonnet’s of the parked cars in a white sheen. He shivered. He looked down to see he was still out. He zipped up, almost forgetting to pop himself back in for a moment, but did so just as he closed in on the skin. He felt a little warmer without the breeze down below. He still needed to find another bar and there wasn’t anything he could remember nearby. He would need a ride.

Tyres screeched from somewhere.

Probably eons away.

He could drive. He drove better drunk anyway. He could find an unlocked car to borrow, then leave a note and let them know where he left the car. No one could blame him, and surely the owners wouldn’t mind. He wouldn’t go that far anyway.

An engine roared, more squealing tyres. He put his hands on hips and looked around for the noisy asshole waking up the good people sleeping in this nice neighbourhood. Lights spun sideways then back to the middle of the road, finally settling on him. He had just peed, but now he needed to pee again. He squinted and put up his hand to block the light. The lights shone to the left, then right, like the eyes of a drunk. He tried to move, but his legs wouldn’t work. He looked across the road then back down the street for someone to help.

The car ground up against parked cars on one side of the road, then the other. The car skidded around and the engine revved harder. It turned in a spin. Then crashed sideways into the cars on the side and came to a sudden halt.

Gary stared. His mouth opening and closing in half assembled words. His mouth dry. He really needed a beer now. And a pee. His feet kept their place on the ground like his shoes had claws. Maybe if he just let a little out. His pant’s leg warmed for a moment and he sighed, forgetting about the car.

The engine stopped making noises. A flame burst from the bonnet. Gary stared again at the car and his legs warmed further. His right foot felt real warm now too. Fire erupted from the bonnet and spread down the panels and to the ground. He stepped backward. His feet finally giving him control.

A big guy jumped out of the car and ran toward him, screaming, his hair and jacket on fire. The smell a mix of burnt chicken soup and sweaty socks.

Gary didn’t know what to say or do when the guy ran past. He held up his hand to signal him and maybe help him, but he kept running. Gary continued standing there with his hand up like a shark fin and stared after the guy, still on fire, until he was out of his sight.

Moments passed and his eyes drooped. The car hadn’t exploded. Instead the fire went out with a short fizzle and the street turned dark again. The smell of cooking food made him hungry. He could do with a chicken souvlaki about now.

He walked to the car and got in. It wouldn’t start. He hadn’t expected it to. He let his eyes close. Maybe if he just napped a moment he could think clearer and work out what to do next.