Posts Tagged ‘free reads’
A Deity in Therapy, For the Love of Art, and What Kind of Monster? originally appeared in Flashshot Magazine.
A Deity in Therapy
Nyx spread her cloak of starlight across the therapist’s couch then settled her raven head against the leather arm.
“Why would one as old as you need a mortal’s help?” The doctor scrawled a note in his journal.
She laid a hand made of midnight clouds against her brow. “When you are the mother of many discordant deities, it tends to wear you down. My dark children clamor to me for advice. To settle their ceaseless disputes.”
The psychiatrist nodded.
“At least my offspring who roam the day are blessed. Such a carefree existence in the light.”
For the Love of Art
She slid the hammer over his throat. A winter wind fluttered through the open window and plucked the hair from her cheek.
“Wouldn’t you prefer the blade?” Her face held the beauty of deep concern.
“No.” He smiled and kissed her slender wrist. “I want it to be messy. My death should be like my art—chaotic.”
Biting her ruby-painted lip, she drew the claw-head up and back over her head. “I’ll paint a cityscape with your brains, lover.”
“That will be nice, dear.” He nodded, before the blunt, round steel smashed his skull open.
What Kind of Monster?
Ramona shivered as she secured the manacle around his thick wrist. “No idea?”
He shook his bent head. “None.”
Water trickled down the dungeon walls and blended with his blue-black hair.
“The transformation begins.” She swallowed. “We’ll soon find out.”
“No, we won’t.” His voice sounded like metal dragged over broken glass.
Ramona watched as his body contorted into something between animal and human. “My god,” she cried. “What are you?”
“I wish I knew.” He leapt forward and broke the chains, then he tore her throat out.
For more free fiction, check out Happy Birthday, Clandestine.
Copyright 2004 – 2016 Louise Bohmer. All rights reserved.
It’s Women in Horror Month! And here, in no particular order, are some women in horror you should check out.
K.H. Koehler
Debbie Kuhn
KV Taylor
Natalie Sin
Cate Gardner
Carole Lanham
Lisa McCarthy
S.P. Miskowski
Kate Jonez
And why not treat yourself and snag some free books for V-Day? K.H. Koehler has a gift for you here, and you can grab some free Anti-Heroes here. Or click the purty covers below to grab your goodies.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go listen to new Finntroll with my hubby.
Hey folks!
We have Anti-Heroes treats for you today. First up, how about a free read? You can now grab New Girl (Anti-Heroes Book I) for FREE at Kobo. Click the link in this paragraph or the book cover below to get your copy now!
And if you haven’t checked out the new cover goodness from Ms. Koehler, feast your eyes on Power Play (Anti-Heroes Book IV). That’s right, I’m not showing you here. You must go to the Anti-Heroes website to see. So there.
Once upon a time, I walked the streets of New Bedlam with many of my friends. I’m sure some of you will remember those cold, dark streets, where anything could be creeping around the next corner. Here’s a story from those times. In fact it was my first New Bedlam tale. Hope you enjoy today’s free read.
Cold Iron
Louise Bohmer
The following account was found in a journal discovered at a New Bedlam heritage site. According to town archives, the original homestead that stood on the property was gutted by fire in 1895. Somehow this journal survived, with all its pages intact.
* * *
Hillary helped me arrange my iron tools in a circle just outside the front door. No clouds in the sky means no threat of rain tonight, so they’ll be safe. I pray the spring storms don’t come anytime soon. We forgot to lay some iron out before the barn, so I fear what it might do to the cows. How I hope we don’t find a mess in the morning.
We could hear it last night, laughing and shouting threats from underneath our bedroom window. I was terrified it would try to get in through the back entrance, but the lock on that door is made of iron so that should keep it out. It hasn’t yet tried the two windows at the front of our cabin.
Its racket woke up our little Mary. She came down from her tiny room in the loft and asked to sleep with us. She could hear it scratching at her wall. I assume it must’ve climbed up to the roof to try our chimney.
I still cannot discern what we have done to make it so angry with us. Hillary and I always left payment for its hard work around our home and farm. We left it bread and honey, milk and some fresh baked biscuits—every night it had a feast, as requested. How did we insult the creature?
Mind you, we are in New Bedlam, and strange occurrences are frequent in this town. I thought moving here would be a fresh start for Hillary, Mary, and I, after we lost so much back in Alberta. Now, I’m not so sure.
Speaking with Rose Trotten—who some townsfolk fear and avoid, as she’s rumored to be a witch in trade with Satan—I learned this area has a history of tragedy. I fear we made a grave mistake coming here. Rose offered me advice on dealing with the creature, so I can at least be thankful for that. She believes something in the town could be warping its intent, corrupting it. This place is starting to stink with a festering malevolence.
I can’t completely blame the town, though. My grave mistake came when I met it at the crossroads and offered it passage in my wagon. I let it in my home and gave it food. It wasn’t until it took off its hat and brushed back its shaggy hair that I noticed its face. The creature—then posing as a man—looked exactly like me. This gave me quite a shock.
It revealed itself as a Fetch—a co-walker to my spirit, a double of my soul. A denizen of Fey, it claimed to be. Was I naïve to take it at its word? In truth, I was afraid of it by then, afraid not to. When it offered work in exchange for a place to stay and some food, I chose not to deny it. My next fatal mistake came there. I gave it too much will over my home and hearth.
I can see it now, from my bedroom window. I watch it as Hillary and I prepare for sleep. It still resembles me somewhat, but its appearance is more akin to animal than human now. Its pug-nosed face has taken on a piggish appearance. Its yellow eyes remind me of a wolf. When I catch a glimpse of it by daylight, its skin shines an odd, light blue. At this moment, it sits in a looming willow and peers in at me. I clutch the iron spike, one of a few I’ve stolen from the railway yard. Should it decide to try the windows tonight, I will be ready.
Copyright © 2012 Louise Bohmer. All rights reserved. No part of this short story may be distributed, shared, or posted online without the author’s written permission.
Want more horrifying Louise fiction? Why not check out Detritus or Old School?
Another free read today from the new Passion Plays erotic romance collection. This 500 word excerpt of Bio-ink & Blueprint Whores recently appeared on Twitter. For those of you who missed my tweets, I thought I’d re-blog it here. This excerpt is SFW. If you’d like to read the story in its entirety, purchase a copy of Passion Plays here or here. You can also grab a copy by clicking the book cover below. If you’d like to try Passion Plays before you buy, download a free copy of the Passion Plays Teaser here and here, or by clicking the book cover below.
Now, on with the excerpt!
Bio-ink & Blueprint Whores
David slid the metal door open and slipped into the basement laboratory. Dr. Valentine sat no more than six feet away, in his computerized throne. His back faced the entrance, making it almost too easy for David to sneak up on him.
“Word is you’ve cloned Mistress Nadine.” He stroked the young doctor’s temple with the sleek barrel of his plasma gun. David clamped a hand over Jacob Valentine’s mouth, cutting off his protests.
“When I left you alive,” David whispered in the prodigy’s ear, “I told you to end this operation. Seems you’ve gone against my wishes.”
The stink of black market genetics wafted from the young scientist’s lab coat.
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His hands rose in surrender. “I’m not in the clone-whore business anymore.” His feeble lie squeaked from pinched lips. “Just…selling information these days.”
David whirled the black chair around and grabbed Dr. Valentine by his soiled lapels. “You can’t bullshit me. I know there’s a fresh Ms. Nadine lurking about.” He cast his gaze around the basement. “My contacts saw her letting some clone whores loose over in the Zinfirth District.”
Jacob stared at the streamlined snout of the weapon, now inches from his face. He ground his teeth together and frowned.
Sneering, David nodded at him. “I’ll be generous. Five minutes to come up with something convincing.”
Letting out a yelp, the doctor rushed him, jabbing an elbow into his stomach. A surprised whoosh of air gusted from David’s mouth. He struggled to keep his balance, and a firm hold on the geneticist.
Jacob wiggled out of his grip and fled toward a metal door three feet from the monitoring desk. He slapped a big red button poking from a green panel, before David took him down with a pulse-three from the gun.
At mid-range, death was incredibly painful. His particles ripped apart in an awkward, slow-motion dance.
As Jacob’s screams died, David moved toward the dented barrier. His gloved hand curled around the doorknob. It squealed as he turned it.
Inside, a green hallway stretched left and right. Six bolted portals lined the corridor. David turned left and made for the last one. He knew the way well. He’d walked this route many times.
The rumbling of a cooling bio-ink printer came from behind the heavy iron. David set his weapon to a higher pulse level, and drew back the rusty bar. He opened the door just enough to slink through, keeping low and watchful once inside.
The supercomputer gave a low hum as David walked closer to the six hulking, grey printers. They lined one wall of the room. Their stainless steel birthing trays stretched out like the slender bodies of mechanical insects, each supported by three pairs of thin, metal legs.
David approached the third flesh-paper chute. A synthetic afterbirth smeared its gleaming channel walls. Another printout prostitute spewed forth, courtesy the technology-cum-genetics black-market.
A soft click sounded behind him, and David whirled around. Silver skin bared and shining, Nadine entered from a room opposite the printers. Her soft, blonde hair fell in loose curls about her shoulders, brushing the tops of her ample breasts.