Posts tagged ‘horror’
My short story, He Flew Away, has just been accepted by Cemetery Moon.
If you are familiar with the invasion of stink bugs you might enjoy this story. I’ll let you know when it is available and how to get a copy.
January 8, 2017 at 12:00 am
I should have posted this piece on Halloween night, but better late than never. I feel this small piece of horror history needs to be shared.
As a writer of horror, I look to the roots of my addition. The source which first opened the world of horror to me has just died at the age of 98. At least they think he died.
He was one of the elements which first opened the world of horror to me. He was Zacherly, the host of a late-night Saturday show centered on classic horror movies. If you didn’t live in the Philadelphia, New Jersey, the New York area, you probably have never heard of him.
Born John Zacherle in 1918, he provided all the original classic horror movies. Frankenstein, Dracula, The Mummy and the Invisible Man among others. If the movie he was showing was not a classic, but a cheesy effort, he would interrupt the film to make comments or insert his image into the film.
During breaks he would camp it up standing in the coffin of his wife, stake pierced. Also, he would talk to Gasport, a potato sack containing who knows what hanging on the wall. Only Zacherly could understand what this sack said, which I found out from Zacherle’s obituary was his son. Go figure.
Another activity, often perused by this ghoulish host, was brain surgery. The brains looking very much like cauliflower. I hesitate to speculate who these brains belonged to, but it is tempting.
I was a teenager when this was all happening. Offered by Zacherly was a passport to Transylvania. Of course I sent away for one. With a bright red cover, it was a cherished possession. It was lost before I had a chance to use it.
A legend is gone. I hope he lives on in reruns, or that murky world where horror meets reality.
November 1, 2016 at 9:54 pm
Some time ago I received a questionnaire from Book Buzzr, a marketing website I’m using to promote my novel, New Moon Rising. I thought I would share my answers to give you a closer look into who I am.
BOOK BUZZR
Could you tell us a little about yourself?
Now a retired scientist, I spent 34 years studying renal physiology.
I’m a Newark, New Jersey boy now living in West Chester, Pennsylvania, divorced with two outstanding daughters. One is a farmer working for the Rodale Institute and the other is pursing and MFA in fiction at Syracuse University.
Describe your book, New Moon Rising, in 30 words or less.
The novel is science fiction centered on the Ring of Fire. Think of the movie, Deep Impact, but in reverse.
What was the hardest part of writing this book?
Editing? I hate editing. The initial story just flowed. I went along with the characters and saw the action through their eyes. But when it came to editing the adventure was over, and I missed it.
What books had the greatest influence on you?
When I was in high school I read three books by Tom Dooley, a doctor who went to Laos, among other countries, to provide medical assistance. Of the three, the only title I can remember is The Night They Burned the Mountain.
His work was influential in establishing CARE.
What Dooley did to me I could never reverse. His words established in me the need for a sense of purpose, that you must strive to make a difference. Even at my advanced age, I cannot shake this mind-set.
Briefly share with us what you do to market your book.
Not enough. I have has one signing at a local bookstore which went quite well.
I am, of course on your site. I also have a blog, walttriznastories.wordpress.com, where I have discussed my novel and have provided links to my publisher, Melange Books, barns&noble.com and amazon.com., where my novel is available. But the primary purpose of my blog is to provide help for writers on the road to publication.
How do you spend your time when you are not writing?
I read a great deal, as most writers do. I firmly believe the basis for any writers desire to write begins with reading and the love for books. Of house and outside chores also require certain amount of time.
What are you working on next?
I have multiple short stories I am editing and hope to publish.
I also have two novels that are written and need to be edited and published.
The first, Sweet Depression, follows a corrupt high-level officer in a pharmaceutical company fulfilling his need for control and greed with devastating results. Think of a cross between novels written by James Patterson and Robin Cook.
The second novel, The Beast Awaits, combines illicit stem cell research creating a monster mindlessly intent on destroying our world.
October 7, 2016 at 9:24 pm
Happy Valentine’s Day. Here’s my present; a free story.
A VALENTINE’S GIFT
Jim Reed sat in a desolate park in a seedy section of the city and pulled the collar of his badly worn coat up as the North wind howled, he sipped from the bottle concealed in the brown paper bag and, with each sip, a grimace spread across his face while momentary warmth filled his empty belly.
“That god damned day is coming,” he thought. He did not have a calendar for a calendar needed a wall on which to hang and his watch was gone, hocked long ago. Jim kept track of the date and headlines the world produced from the newspaper machines along the sidewalk.
He drank rapidly; trying to prevent his mind from wandering to the day he lost his future, his purpose, that Valentine’s Day five years ago. But he could not prevent his numbed mind from reviewing his life and recalling the day his reason for being was erased.
* * *
While in college, Jim developed a drinking problem, and it lingered after graduation. He found a job as an accountant, worked hard during the day and drank hard during the night.
A friend from work wanted to fix Jim up with a girl. A date was arranged, a Dutch-treat dinner. Jim arrived at the Italian restaurant early, sat at the bar drinking red wine when a stunning woman with long black hair walked in searching for someone. She approached Jim and said, “I’m Debbie Wilson, could you be Jim Reed?”
Jim could not believe that this woman was his blind date. He gulped down his wine, took her hand, and headed for the restaurant area. He drank less than he usually did on a blind date and just enjoyed talking to Debbie. Before he knew it, they had spent two hours over dinner, and he was sober. He wanted to pay for dinner but Debbie demanded to pay her own way. She smiled and said, “Next time you can treat.” This brought a grin to Jim’s face. Debbie paid her part of the bill, and as the cashier placed the change in her hand, Debbie exclaimed, “What’s this?” She looked down at the dirty white penny in her hand.
“That’s a steel penny,” Jim explained. “One year, during World War II, pennies were made of a lead composite in order to save copper in order to make shell castings.”
Debbie’s eyes brightened as she said, “This is going to be my lucky penny and always remind me of this night.”
Their relationship grew into love, and six months later they were married. They bought a small house and soon Debbie was pregnant. Jim’s life had a hope he had never imagined as he watched Debbie grow with their child.
They found a hospital providing a room for natural birth, but had the facilities to cope with any problems that might occur. One day, as Debbie was preparing a special dinner to celebrate a special day, her water broke. Jim rushed her to the hospital thinking, “By the time this Valentine’s Day is over, I’ll have two loves, not one.”
After they entered the hospital, a nurse took Debbie’s blood pressure and immediately had her rushed to the emergency room. Debbie’s eyes reflected the fear Jim felt as he sat at her bedside. When Debbie began to convulse, Jim was escorted to the waiting room.
Hours later their obstetrician entered the waiting room and sat next to Jim. The doctor’s eyes never left the floor. In a soft voice he told Jim, “I’m sorry but your wife is gone, we lost the baby girl too. If you will come with me, I’ll take you to your wife.”
Jim felt horror, shock and helplessness all at once. On shaky legs he followed the doctor and soon found himself standing next to a bed and staring down at Debbie’s pretty face. She seemed so much at peace while Jim was in such torment.
The next few days were a blur; Jim drank himself into numbness while friends and family expressed their regrets. Jim stayed numb for five years, never cried over his loss, keeping the grief tied up inside. He stayed numb as he was fired and eventually lost his house. He had been homeless for two years now and just didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything.
* * *
Jim left the park and made his way into the city. He mumbled, “That god damned day is here,” as he sat on the grate of an office building immersed in the steam, trying to stay warm. The hour was late and the street strangely deserted. Steam created an odd glow around the streetlamps. Through the mist, a small girl approached and stood before him.
“I’d like to help you mister,” she said.
Jim yelled, “Get the hell away from me,” but the girl wouldn’t budge. She just stood before Jim as her eyes filled with tears.
“I’d like to help you mister,” she repeated as she placed a small cloth sack before Jim. As she turned to leave she said something strange, “We love you.”
Jim watched through the mist as the girl departed; saw the tall figure of a woman waiting in the distance for the child. The child stood next to the woman and they joined hands as they looked back, and then melted into the mist.
Jim sat there, drinking from his bag and lifted the small cloth sack. He opened it and spilled its contents into his hand. He sat there looking at the single dirty white penny. He lifted the paper bag to his lips, and then tossed it away as tears coursed his face.
THE END
February 14, 2016 at 8:11 pm
On the eve of this horror holiday, I thought I would offer a zombie treat.
This story was published in the now defunct Blood, Blade, & Thruster in their Winter 2006/2007 issue. Included in this issue was an interview published with Piers Anthony. This association caused my writing career to soar. JUST KIDDING. I should have saved that for April 1st. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story, and if you have a moment during your busy life, LET ME KNOW, my ego would appreciate the response.
THE RELUCTANT ZOMBIE
As Norman stumbled through the dank Haitian swamp, he groaned, “Willard, it feels so unnatural walking around with my arms outstretched, but I can’t seem to put them down. “I have an image to uphold.”
Willard, who was shuffling along, shook his head and sighed, “Of course it’s unnatural, you’re a zombie, damn it. And your image is history.”
Norman complained, “I didn’t ask to be a zombie.” With some difficulty, he swiveled his neck and surveyed the Haitian countryside.
Norman took in the landscape surrounding him. He walked through a village. It was nothing more than a few huts of mud and straw along a dusty road. Chickens pecked in the brush along the roadside. Chickens! For some reason their presence made him uncomfortable. “I really don’t want to be a zombie,” Norman muttered. He was a forty-year-old college professor, a dark-haired trim man who always dressed well. Now he was walking around covered in grime and dressed in rags.
Willard said, “If you didn’t want to become a zombie, you shouldn’t have run over the old voodoo woman’s chickens with your jeep. Was she ever pissed? She’s also the one that converted me into a zombie, but that’s another story.”
Norman looked at Willard and could not guess what he once looked like. Willard was pale, gaunt and dressed in rags. His age made undeterminable by his zombie state.
“As soon as you angered her she began making one of her little dolls. She cackled while she worked. That is never a good sign. The doll is where your soul now resides.”
“I can’t believe this is happening to me, Willard. I came to Haiti to do research on Haitian religions. I am, or was, a respected and well-published anthropologist. Now look at me. I’m wearing rags and walking around like a…, like a …
“Zombie!” asked Willard
“Just because I ran over a few chickens?”
“Um, Norman, they looked like chickens, but they weren’t. Nothing around the voodoo woman’s house is what it appears. They were once her enemies. She changed them into chickens and you freed them from pecking for insects along the road for the rest of their lives. You ended their suffering. So naturally, in her anger, she turned you into a zombie. I am assigned to train all novice zombies. To instruct how to attack people teach them what are the best parts to eat.”
Norman made a face at this remark.
“Now what?” asked Willard?
Norman sighed, “I’m a vegetarian. But I will eat dairy.”
Willard said with disgust, “There are no vegetarian zombies. And attacking the dairy section of a store is not going to do much for the zombie image.”
Norman grumbled, “Oh, I wouldn’t want to do anything to detract from the zombie image. Give me a break.”
As the two zombies were arguing, Willard happened to glance over to the voodoo woman’s house. There she stood in the doorway. Willard could tell she was not happy.
She hobbled toward Willard and Norman, a waddling mass adorned with bones and beads. Her crown of thick dreadlocks made her appear as if some multi-legged beast was sitting on her head.
The old voodoo woman shouted at Norman, “I knew you be a trouble maker, with your fancy jeep and running over people’s property.”
Norman mumbled, “Sorry about the chickens.”
“You sorry all right. You be good and sorry real soon.”
The old woman produced her Norman doll, lifted the doll skyward, and began chanting in a low rumbling voice.
Norman’s soul returned to his body. He felt like his old self. He laughed with relief, then glance up. Willard stumbled toward him, arms raised.
“Willard old buddy, we’re friends – right?”
Willard only growled and roared.
Norman looked desperately for an escape. On either side of him, zombies with ash-gray complexions staggered in his direction. He was surrounded.
The old voodoo woman said, “Here be my ‘children’, and they be hungry.” She cackled as the circle of zombies grew smaller and smaller around Norman.
From beyond the wall of the living dead, Norman pleaded, “Please, make me a chicken!”
THE END
Those that observe ‘Mischief Night, please be kind.
Here are some links where you may purchase my work.
Melange Books
http://www.melange-books.com/authors/walttrizna/index.html
Barnes & Noble.com
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/walt-trizna?store=book&keyword=walt+trizna
Amazon.com
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=walt+trizna
October 30, 2015 at 9:12 pm
I’ve had trouble writing lately after hitting on of life’s speed-bumps, but I’m slowly getting back in the groove. I thought I’d take this opportunity to tell you about my recent work, there will be more to come soon. Below you will find a brief description and where the story stands.
BEETLE MANIA: This is my most recent story. Let’s just say, if you have a fear of beetles this story should increase that fear about 1000%. But you’ll enjoy the journey. This story is still in the editing stage.
PET’S REVENGE: The title speaks for the story. The story takes the term ‘Despicable’ the title of a recent animated movie and raises it to a level where it belongs. This story is now making the publisher rounds.
CLIFF’S NOTE: A work of science fiction, this story concerns an alien abduction – in the year 1889. This work is also off to a publisher.
That’s about it. My next communication will be about a work that is far from my usual genre.
July 29, 2015 at 5:54 pm
I’m somewhat behind the curve when it comes to popular culture; think Neanderthal. However, on Netflix I stumbled upon a series, Supernatural, which I think is fantastic. I also discovered that a local station carries the series, probably has for years.
I spend hours each night catching up on past episodes. In a nutshell, the series follows two brothers who investigate strange occurrences and hunt the monsters causing these events. Also involved in the continuing story line are a host of demons and angels. Turns out, not all demons are bad, and not all angels are good.
I love this show!
The writers are beyond excellent, providing twists and turns in a continuing plot with always a new element that will grip your attention and keep you guessing ‘What could possibly come next’? On occasion, the writers also provide a bit of humor with episodes which introduce the ‘Ghostfacers’, along with other episodes that will leave you chuckling, in spite of the horror.
The dynamics of the relationship of the brothers is also a constant conflict keeping the storyline unpredictable to say the least. All is not rosy with this series, as well it should not be.
If you enjoy horror as much as I, do, and great writing, something rare these days in TV, find a source and begin watching Supernatural.
June 24, 2015 at 8:22 pm
Published as a paperback by Galley Books in 2015, with Revival, Stephen King has done it again; taking us on a ride through interesting characters with a touch of horror, maybe more than a touch. I enjoyed this novel. Now let me tell you why.
First, some background.
Stephen King and I are the same age, and we’re both writers of horror. The similarities stop there. King has bucks coming out his butt because his novels sell because they are excellent reads. I just have a butt with the usual production, but I’m working to change that. I love King’s work, and with this last novel, I’m beginning to understand why.
We grew up together.
I enjoy all of King’s earlier novels, written while he and I were young or of middle age, the characters kept my interest and the storylines were magnificent horror. But the age of the characters was unimportant to both me and the work. Then, as he grew old, and life took its toll, his writing began to change, and being the same age, I now strongly identify with the characters.
There is no guide to getting old, thank God, for if there was, some might chose not to. Everyone’s experience is different and unique. There are those who do not have a chance to experience the aches, pains and loss of the purpose they once knew. You know the only way to not grow old, think Marilyn Monroe. They are the ones who suffer the loss of opportunity of time and accomplishment.
Now, about the story.
Revival centers on a minister who loses his faith and a young boy he encounters before circumstances cause this loss. Even after his loss of faith, the minister holds revivals and accomplishes cures using ‘secret electricity’, an unknown form of electricity which he is sure exists. He also feels this electricity will allow him to glimpse worlds we cannot normally see. The result is not pleasant. King goes totally H.P. Lovecraftian at the novel’s conclusion. Being a fan of Lovecraft, I loved it.
Revival is an excellent tale of horror, but it is much more. It is also a skilled description of the ageing process through the life of its characters. Until you are there, advance age cannot be truly described. This is what give a richness to King’s tale. Through personal experience, King does a fantastic job of combining advance age, and bearing the crosses of life’s experiences. I also bear crosses, and am stumbling through the years.
Treat yourself.
Read this book.
June 15, 2015 at 6:12 pm
As a writer of horror, I feel we should pause and offer a moment of silence for the passing of Christopher Lee.
I grew up watching him dine on nubile women and issuing terror into my young mind. He journeyed onto the screen in the footsteps of Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi. Stay out of character, Christopher, and rest in peace.
June 11, 2015 at 4:12 pm
Written in 1972-1973, this novel brought me a new appreciation of the ‘master’ as I have never felt before. In this story, Helen Keller could have seen the gifted writer which would emerge on the horror scene.
Surprisingly, this work, in the strictest sense, in not a horror novel. There is a dead accomplice giving Blaze, the main character, a brain-damaged man, advice, but he only exists in Blaze’s mind and memory. What I found remarkable about this work is how King creates a multi-faceted who kidnaps and kills, yet you’re able to get into his mind and past and find sympathy for his actions.
I’m not giving away any more detail. Buy the book and fill the ‘master’s’ coffers. You won’t be disappointed.
May 21, 2015 at 9:08 pm
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