Six Sentence Sunday – Judge & Executioner

I haven’t done a Six Sentence Sunday post in quite a while it seems! I looked over my previous entries and realized I hadn’t done one yet this year. So I thought I ought to remedy that. This bit is from Night Feeders, a western horror novelette now available on most eBook platforms.

Setup: Motley wandered into the wrong town, and Sheriff Ritters wants to make an example out of him. Of course, Ritters is always looking for an excuse to do that.

Ritters sought to handle legal matters his own way: criminals were tried in the open street, and the speed of his pistols served as both judge and executioner.

Above them, the giant town clock ticked the seconds by with little remorse. Once, it had been the symbol of the adventurous frontier spirit in this small, dusty town, and now the fact that it even worked at all against the dirt and wind which tore through town year by year was a tiny miracle. It hammered the seconds out like a horse being driven by a cruel master, until finally at the strike of noon it released its out-of-tune chimes.

No sooner had the first chime rung than Ritters let loose a series of gunshots. The first bullet lodged in Motley’s shooting arm—he’d barely gotten his gun out of the holster before he was struck.

The full story is now available as an eBook at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords. Be sure to drop by Six Sentence Sunday to see what other action-packed teasers have been posted!

Six Sentence Sunday – Turning on the Theatrics

Here’s a snippet from a short story that was released just last week, “Against Our Better Judgment.” It’s a humorous horror story with a vampire and werewolf being forced to work together against an unexpected enemy.

Setup: Terry is going to have turn on the theatrics in order to throw off these Hunters. His vampire friend is now out for the count, so he’ll have to make this show look good.

Terry flicked his hand into a set of claws, and grimaced as he dragged the edges over his chest, face, and arms. They’d bleed just enough to make them look fresh, and even if the main wounds healed up, the blood would still look authentic. He ruffled his hair out once more before flinging himself out of the cave entrance and onto the ground.

“Oh god,” he moaned, coughing into the dirt.

“Oh my, one of their victims – we must be close!”

This story is now available as part of a collection in the horror anthology, Under the Stairs. If you would like to see another snippet from this piece, check out this older post.

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Six Sentence Sunday – The Rickety Desk

A bit of a switch up for me this week, I decided to post a snippet of the Scarecrow fanfiction I’m working on at the moment. Sometimes inspiration to veer off into fanfic is the best way to let my mind mull over where to take the plot for my book next. And after beating Arkham City last week, my mind’s been been revolving around the fandom!

Setup: Locked in Arkham Asylum, Crane has been informed that his mother is visiting. Considering that the last time he saw her he tried to kill her, he’s not too thrilled that she’s been asked to visit. Here he’s mulling over the simple desk in his cell.

It had taken him four months of good behavior to earn the right to have it, and other than his books and magazines, it was his most prized possession in here. She wouldn’t notice anything special about it though. To her it would be a rickety, lopsided desk with graffiti carved in on all sides, a dilapidated thing that would only be fit for a trash heap were they outside of the asylum. She wouldn’t know all the time he spent smiling at dim-witted doctors, all the drugs he’d swallowed down willingly knowing full-well that the side effects would be worse than the cure, or all the boring daytime talk shows he’d been forced to watch in the recreation room. She would only see an ugly, unfinished desk that was too big for such a tiny cell, and too big for the scrawny man that sat at it.

Be sure to drop by Six Sentence Sunday to see what other juicy teasers have been posted!

Six Sentence Sunday – “We are like the striking serpent”

Happy first week of NaNoWriMo all my fellow authors out there! And although the continuation of my sequel is coming along quite nicely, I still have quite a ways to go. And on top of that I missed writing anything on Saturday, but I did have fun going shopping instead. I seriously hadn’t been shopping for fun in quite some time. Since before October I believe. But today I spoiled myself and picked up a new winter jacket for the cold weather and a fluffy white tree skirt for the Christmas tree we bought last year. I love the holidays!

Setup: Brakkis explains why humans aren’t instantly transformed by drinking werewolf blood. Poor Terry – I have a feeling I’ll be saying this quite a bit through this book!

“But doesn’t the blood… I mean, doesn’t drinking it turn them into…” Terry began, trying to figure out the correct wording for what he wanted to say.

Brakkis laughed again, this time shaking his head in amusement. “My goodness, your mind truly is muddled isn’t it, little pup? We are like the striking serpent – our venom is in our bite.” He smiled toothily, and jogged to catch up with the head of the pack once again. Terry couldn’t help but notice the severed head that jostled around at his waist as he ran.

Because nothing says “don’t mess with me” like a severed head on your belt. *snicker*

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Six Sentence Sunday – Old Freight Elevator

Some more from my Secrets of Leekston novel, my latest major WIP. Definitely will be ramping up the work on this as NaNoWriMo creeps ever closer. It’s a complicated novel with many paths and twists, but I’m really looking forward to it! Oh and if you’re participating in NaNo this year, add me! My username is: lenaf007.

Setup: Work at the Memorial Hills Research Facility is just as shady as it sounds.

It was nearly dawn when he came into work, having spent the last week at an extended stay hotel. His hours were too long, too sporadic for him to be able to stay home for long. Not without rising suspicion in his family and friends at least. It was a small price to pay for the reward he gained working at Memorial Hills. The place was a wreck on the outside, but once you took the old freight elevator down a hundred feet or so, the walls were no longer cold stone, but sleek metal instead. There was a slight jolt as the runners moved over from the rough tracks to the clean ones, both of which were inspected daily of course – nothing could be left to chance in a place that attempted so hard to look unkempt and unruly, to look like a place that not even the homeless would care to tread.

I love creating the mood of this place, though I’d never want to actually step foot inside myself. I know what happens there…

Be sure to drop by Six Sentence Sunday to see what other juicy teasers have been posted!