New! CLOCKING OUT, 12 Timely Tales of Terror by Linda Mooney writing as Gail Smith

 

New!

CLOCKING OUT
12 Timely Tales of Terror
by Linda Mooney writing as Gail Smith
Word Count:  24.5K
$2.99 e / $6.99 p

Includes:

1:11     Epistaxis—Actual vampires don’t need fangs in order to feed.

2:22     Starlight, Starbright—An astronaut defies orders not to return to Earth, but he does anyway…with dire consequences.

3:33     Rescue—Two detectives go in search of thirteen missing children and the person responsible for their disappearances.

4:44     Forecast—A bizarre weather phenomenon envelopes a city.

5:55     Firewood—He was warned about going into the forest to gather firewood.

6:66     Sniffy—A young boy grieves for his beloved pet.

7:77     Fortune—A teenager is informed he’s going to meet his fate that evening.

8:88     Karma—An abused woman’s husband gets his just desserts.

9:99     Second Date—He only dates young women with a unique personality or physical makeup.

10:10   100 Strokes—To combat her thinning hair, she thought she’d use an old tried-and-true method.

11:11   Mosquitoes—Her job was to test the blood of mosquitoes for possible signs of infectious diseases.

12:12   Protector—He promised he would protect her until his dying day.

Buy Links

Now Available in Print! E I E I O, a Novella of Cannibalistic Horror

E I E I O

A Story of Cannibalistic Horror
by Linda Mooney writing as Gail Smith
Word Count:  12.1
$1.99 e / $6.99 p

Old MacDonald had a farm, E I E I O
And on this farm he had some pigs, E I E I O
With a hack hack here, and a chop chop there,
Here a shriek, there a scream
Everywhere the blood streams...                                        
Old MacDonald had a farm, E I E I O

In rural Georgia in 1948, a man was lucky to get any kind of work.  Which was why Cletus Pink felt he'd been blessed when an old farmer named MacDonald offered him a job.  But what was making the horrific sounds coming from the main house?  Worse, why was there always fresh blood oozing out from underneath the kitchen's back door?

Excerpt and buy links.

Re-released! E I E I O, a Story of Cannibalistic Horror by Gail Smith

Re-released!

E I E I O
A Story of Cannibalistic Horror
by Linda Mooney
Writing as Gail Smith
Music And Press
ISBN 978-1-941321-28-7
Word Count: 12.1K
$1.99

Old MacDonald had a farm, E I E I O

And on this farm he had some pigs, E I E I O

With a hack hack here, and a chop chop there,

Here a shriek, there a scream

Everywhere the blood streams...                                           

Old MacDonald had a farm, E I E I O

In rural Georgia in 1948, a man was lucky to get any kind of work.  Which was why Cletus Pink felt he'd been blessed when an old farmer named MacDonald offered him a job.  But what was making the horrific sounds coming from the main house?  Worse, why was there always fresh blood oozing out from underneath the kitchen's back door?

Click here for excerpt and buy links.

Now Available! ISABELLLA, a Tale of Paranormal Horror

Now Available!
ISABELLLA
A tale of paranormal horror
by Gail Smith
(Linda Mooney w/a)

Four years ago Byron Shales was a manager for a department store. Now he hunts down and captures the newly zombie-fied dead, and resells them at auction to the highest bidder. What his buyers do with them after the sale is finalized is none of his business, and frankly he couldn’t care less.

His beliefs and apathy come to a sickening halt when he elects to keep one young woman for himself, and discovers that all his pre-conceived notions about these non-living creatures have been a lie. In fact, the truth about Rothsburg’s Disease may be more horrifying than the flesh-eating creatures it infects.

http://www.lindamooney.com/Isabellla.htm

And available on Kindle!  http://www.amazon.com/Isabellla-ebook/dp/B003YOSC40

****
EXCERPT:

Taking the snare pole in both hands, he took several steps into the room. Habit made him double-check the corners for signs of another one of those things. A good trapper had to keep an extra pair of eyes in the back of his head if he wanted to live long enough to spend his money.

Glancing back at the girl, Byron saw she had gotten to her feet, but she remained where she was. If he didn’t know any better, he would swear she wasn’t in any hurry to attack him.

"What’s the matter? Why won’t you come over here and take a bite? Huh?" He held out an arm in invitation. "Come on. Here it is. All nice and warm and juicy. Bet you’d love to take a chunk out of it, wouldn’t you? Well, come on!" He gave his arm a little wiggle. "Come one and try."

The creature looked at his arm, then back at him. She took a tentative step toward him. Byron took an identical step backwards.

"That’s right. Come and get it. It’s full of warm blood, and I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?"

She took a second step, which he echoed in reverse, but her gaze wasn’t on the tempting arm he was baiting her with. She was watching him. As ridiculous as it appeared, it was like she was wary or something. Byron shook his head. No way, man. No fucking way.

He grabbed the snare pole with both hands and played out more of the wire. The creature stopped. One of her hands reached for her throat, and he nearly dropped his jaw.
It was starting to be too goddamn freaky.

"What’s with you, for Christ’s sake? What’s with the hesitation? You’re acting like you have intelligence, and we both know that can’t be true. You’ve been dead now for, what? A few days at the most. Not more than a week. You’re fresh. I gotta hand you that, but your brain’s been rotting inside your skull all that time. There’s no way you could be thinking, much less anticipating me."

He took another step, and this time the girl took a step backwards.

"Fuck!"

Enough of this bullshit, Shales! Get her!

Determined to end this imaginary stalemate, Byron strode over and slipped the noose over the thing’s head, pulling it tight as he gripped the end of the pole.

She didn’t struggle.

She didn’t howl.

She didn’t fight him or the noose.

Byron stared in shock at the creature. He had been hunting zombies for nearly four years, and nothing had prepared him for this. No other undead had acted this way, and those dead things were as predictable as night and day.

He tugged on the pole. The creature didn’t react one way or another. Byron frowned. Maybe her attack button was missing. That, or she never had one. Or it had rotted away.

Something flashed at the corner of his eye. The setting sun reflected off something like a window in the distance. The distraction reminded him he was wasting time. Plus it was a good three miles to the compound if he wanted to get there before the gates were closed for the night.

Pulling on the pole, he watched as the girl reluctantly took a step forward. Then another. Gradually, she followed him outside and to the truck. The entire time her hands remained dangling by her sides.

Once they reached the pickup, he debated whether to slam her up against the board of nails so he could cuff her. To his shock, he saw the creature’s eyes look over at the thirteen-by-seventeen piece of wood attached to the side of the vehicle before she glanced up at him. Warning bells were going off in his head, but at that moment he was totally dumbfounded.

"Shit. Don’t tell me you don’t want to be pinned. Is that it?"

Christ, why was he even asking her? She was dead! She had no brain function anymore. Therefore she couldn’t think, and she damn sure couldn’t be dreading what was about to happen to her! She was already dead, for fuck’s sake! What could be worse?

"Fuck this," he muttered, dragging her to the tailgate. He grabbed a pair of cuffs out of the toolbox and jammed the end of the snare pole underneath the ramp. "All right, girlie. Let’s see if you fight me now."

WhooHoo! JOURNAL Has Broken Into Amazon's Top 100!

It's time to do the Snoopy Dance!  My zombie horror novella JOURNAL has just broken into Amazon's Top 100 in the following:

Amazon Bestsellers Rank: #24,686 Paid in Kindle Store (See Top 100 Paid in Kindle Store) #81 in Kindle Store > Kindle Books > Fiction > Horror > Occult

If you have a "taste" for horror, check out the links (below and down the right-hand side of this blog) to my horror books and blog.

***
Edited to add at 8:00 p.m. ct

Amazon Bestsellers Rank: #18,362 Paid in Kindle Store (See Top 100 Paid in Kindle Store)
#59 in Kindle Store > Kindle Books > Fiction > Horror > Occult

***
Edited to add on 07/19 at 10:00 a.m. ct

Amazon Bestsellers Rank: #9,605 Paid in Kindle Store (See Top 100 Paid in Kindle Store)
#34 in Kindle Store > Kindle Books > Fiction > Horror > Occult
#57 in Books > Literature & Fiction > Genre Fiction > Horror > Occult

***
Edited to add on 07/19 at 2:15 p.m. ct
Amazon Bestsellers Rank: #7,912 Paid in Kindle Store (See Top 100 Paid in Kindle Store)
#25 in Kindle Store > Kindle Books > Fiction > Horror > Occult
#50 in Books > Literature & Fiction > Genre Fiction > Horror > Occult

New! E I E I O, a horror story by Gail Smith (me w/a)

New Release!
(Note: the cover to this book is very graphic.  If you want to see it, please go here, or you can see it in the video below.)

E I E I O
A horrific short story
by Gail Smith
(Linda Mooney w/a)
From Red Rose Publishing

Old MacDonald had a farm,
E I E I O
And on this farm he had some pigs,
E I E I O
With a hack hack here, and a chop chop there,
Here a shriek, there a scream,
Everywhere the blood streams...
Old MacDonald had a farm,
E I E I O

In rural Georgia in 1931, a man was lucky to get any kind of work. Which was why Cletus Pink felt he'd been blessed when an old farmer named MacDonald offered him a job. But what was making the horrific sounds coming from the main house? Worse, why was there always fresh blood oozing out from underneath the kitchen's back door?

* * *
Cletus half-ran to the pen behind the barn after accepting the loop from the farmer’s outstretched hand. The sows they’d caught a couple of days before were still asleep, so his job was not as difficult as he’d first thought it would be. He chose the pig nearest the fence, easily slipping the hemp under its snout and trailing it down until it was around the neck. That done, he quickly fashioned a slipknot to prevent the animal from wiggling out of it.

However, getting the reluctant sow up to the farmhouse was a bit more of a task. It took Cletus a full half hour to drag the reluctant animal up the slope to the back of the farmhouse, then tie the rope securely to the clothesline pole.

His forehead dripped from exertion. His mouth felt parched, his throat burned. He had not had the chance for a quick breakfast, and this headache was getting worse. Back at the barn MacDonald had disappeared back into the structure. The pump was between him and the barn—it shouldn’t be a problem to grab a quick handful of water before heading back downhill.

Cletus side-stepped the sow that was now rooting around the crawlspace underneath the farm house. He walked past the back step, casually glancing at the piled boots he knew were always there. A small detail flashed to him, a detail he could easily have forgotten if the seed of it hadn’t already been planted. Cletus paused, took a step back, and took another good look. Then another.

Yep. No doubt about it. That was dried blood on the back steps—blood that had seeped out of the kitchen floor in thin rivulets and dried in streaks down the hewn stone steps.

Morbid curiosity made Cletus run a finger over the dried blood. It was tacky, not yet at the flaking point. He stared at the smudge on his finger for a second until disgust washed over him and he furiously wiped it on the dry grass.

Getting back to his feet, he started to head for the pump again when he glanced back at the boots lying haphazardly by the steps. In the morning light there was no denying that one pair, one boot lying on its side and the other propped at a slant on top of another set, bore the unmistakable wetness of undried blood. It was embedded in the ridged soles of the footwear, oozing slowly, very, very slowly, along the patterned bottoms as though traversing a maze.

Cletus glanced down at the barn to see if MacDonald had emerged yet. Seeing the coast was clear, he reached over to the boots and again wiped the same finger along the heel. To his utter amazement, the stuff not only was fresh, but warm.