Sunday, December 17, 2017

Top 5 Horror Films of 2017

It's been a while since I've done a movie review post. So I thought I'd tell you guys about my favorite top 5 horror films of 2017.

5. A Dark Song




"A Dark Song" is a one woman's journey into her own dark psyche to find answers after her young son is brutally killed.

A trip through hell, to reach a final conclusion that I didn't see coming, but it makes total sense. The visuals are neat, there are some really creepy things that happen in the house when shit hits the fan, and I can't recommend it enough. It heavily features religious iconography, so keep that in mind while you watch it. It's got a lot of Christian esotericism in it so themes of angels and demons run throughout.





4. The Void



A strange cult has trapped people in a hospital that is about to shut down. Tentacles and monsters soon attack, and the Sheriff is forced to work with two strangers to try to save his nurse wife from an unimaginable evil.

I reviewed "The Void" here. It makes the list because it's a fun creature feature that's a mix of "Silent Hill" and "Hellraiser," two franchises that I absolutely adore.

Also, it would've been higher on the list, if it HAD BETTER DAMN LIGHTING!





3. Stake Land II: The Stakelander




It's the vampire apocalypse. Martin is on a quest to find Mister, a legendary vampire hunter who saved his life in the first movie and trained him to fight and stay alive in desperate times.

"The Stakelander" has a wonderful western movie feel to it. Vamp cult comes to town, kills Martin's family, and sends him on a quest for revenge. Highly underrated. If you love vampires and vampire hunter stories, this is a must see!





2. Cult of Chucky





Chucky is, back, and this time he's picking off patients of a mental hospital, one by one, while he patiently waits for Andy to come for him.

I have to admit, I wasn't a fan of the last three Chucky films. So I was pleasantly surprised when I enjoyed the hell out of "Cult of Chucky." All the wit, wry gallows humor, and clever viciousness of Chucky is back, in full swing, for one hell of a fun ride!





1. IT





An evil alien takes the visage of a creepy clown and terrorizes local kids of the Losers Club. They fight back, and find a way to win...for now.

To be honest, I wasn't sure if I was going to like "IT" when I saw the trailer.  It looked like another mainstream heartless horror remake.

I was wrong.

It has a lot of heart, and the kid actors are top notch! This one is at the top of my list because I thoroughly enjoyed it, it did everything right, including adding new things to the old familiar story. While nothing surprised me, and overall it didn't scare me, there were a few suspenseful scenes in it that were completely unique, and I LOVED it for that.

Plus, the kid playing little Georgie was AMAZING! And Bill Skarsgard is a wonderful Pennywise. Love his version of the monster. Can't wait to see the next movie.



Honorable mentions go to The Babysitter and Raw. 


"The Babysitter" is a fun little romp into horror slasher land. Evil babysitter worships Satan and wants to sacrifice the kid for power or whatever.

"Raw" is a good French thriller. I don't really consider "Raw" to be a horror film. More like a cannibal family drama. It's not as gross as people said it would be, but then again, maybe I have a stronger stomach for that sort of stuff than most people do lol

What about you? What were your favorite horror films that came out in 2017?

Thursday, December 14, 2017

Top 5 Important Lessons I learned in 2017




Well, guys, we made it through another CRAZY year over at Casa de la Carnage. And boy, am I tired!

Too bad I can't hibernate. Sigh.

I don't know about you, but 2017 was pretty darn rough for me. And, like most periods of trial and tribulation, I learned some very valuable lessons.

Without further ado, here are my top 5 things I learned in 2017.


5. Social Media is Great for Self Promotion


Twitter is an invaluable promoting tool for an author. Prior to doing book ad blasts on my Twitter account, I was lucky to get 200 page views a day. This number increased up to 2,000 page views on average.

It would be higher, but I had some run-ins with the Google Search Engine police...meaning they kept changing the algorithm and started punishing people for putting links to their own books on their blogs. Not sure why, but they HATE it when you do that. They call it link stuffing. Been slapped on the wrist twice by Google for doing that now.

It's bullshit, but whatever.

4. Link Stuffing is Not Something You do to Turkeys for Thanksgiving


Say for instance you have a book published on multiple sites, and you decide to share ALL THE LINKS in a post so that people know where to find them, and on what sites they show up. That will get your search results rank lowered. BIG TIME. I went from 2,000 page views to 100 page views overnight. OUCH! THAT HURTS.

So...from now on, no big list of links on the site to my books on Amazon etc. And if I do share a link to Amazon,  it has to have the rel=no follow attribute added to it.  You can read more about that here if you're interested.

3.  If Given the Proper Amount of Time, I Can Write up to 10,000 Words in One Day


Wait...what? Are you fucking serious?!

Yes. Yes, I am.

BUT!

Keep in mind, on average it takes me 1 hour to type 1,000 words. So, in order to write that much, I have to have my butt in the chair, with zero distractions, for 10 hours straight. Needless to say, that doesn't happen very often. But when it does, it's fucking glorious. Feels good too.

Leading up to that was several months of writing 4,000 words a day. I had to flex my writing muscles and build up their strength to achieve such feats. Will I ever do that again? Probably. Am I counting on every day being that fucking amazing? No. Definitely not. That's just setting myself up for failure, and I won't do that again.


2. If You Don't Give Yourself Permission to Write for Fun, You will Suffer Burnout 


This lesson was a tough one to learn.

Writer's block, physical and mental fatigue, frustration, feelings of being useless and a failure, all go hand-in-hand with writer's burnout.

Burnout can happen in a myriad of ways.

I suffered it back in June and it took me 4 months to break out of it.

I was pushing myself too hard, and putting way too much emphasis on how much my books were selling (and how little money they were making) and not enough emphasis on how much I enjoyed my work.

That combined with absolutely zero emotional support from the people I lived with, made it pretty damn hard to get up and be eager to start working on my next book. Or free serial for that matter.

It sucked. HARD. And not in the good way. We're talking vacuum cleaner, not sexy kinky sucking.

All that dirt and crap from the stress of not reaching unrealistic sales goals right off the bat got stuck in my head and made a complete mess of me. I had to fight tooth and nail to get my headspace cleaned up and back in working order.

And once I did that (after summer and fall had passed) I realized that I had unrealistic expectations and that they caused me to stop enjoying what I was doing, and that is why I had the worst writer's block I have ever suffered from.

Here's something "they" won't tell you: 

When you first start out as an author, your books won't sell that much. That's just a fact. But every time you put out a new book, the sales numbers increase. Sales for your other books will raise as well.

I know a good number of fellow authors that gave up because their first book didn't sell for shit.
I'm talking making less than $20 in a month type of shit sales here. That hurts. It hurts your bank account and your ego.

Until you have three books up, don't pay for advertising, and don't expect your books to sell well. Because people buy in bulk. If they find a new author they're interested in, they'll buy all the books that they've put out.

Just keep that in mind, and don't ever stop working on your next project just because you aren't selling books. KEEP ON KEEPING ON my friends.


1. Don't Quit. Ever.


If you're a creative type, like me, it's easy to get discouraged. Perfectionism, focusing low sales numbers during the summer (when there is always a lull in sales- you can look it up. I know I had to, in order to find out what the best months for book sales were during the year),  and family members telling you to give up your craft and go get a "safe job" in a different field all lead to INTENSE PRESSURE THAT THREATENS TO CAVE IN YOUR SKULL.

Creativity jumps head-first out the top story window and plummets to its death, splatting on the pavement in a streak of red gore and shattered bone.

You're left sitting at your desk, staring at a blank Word program screen, watching the cursor blink and spacing out, before the frustrated tears start to fall and blur your vision. (Did I mention that this year was fucking hard? Because it really, really was.)


And then I saw this video and everything started to click into place. 






Yes, I know it sounds like self-help guru bullshit. But, it's not. TRUST ME ON THIS ONE!

Essentially, whenever you have zero motivation, like you feel like giving up and shooting your brains out for instance, (That's hyperbole. I was not suicidal, but I was damn near close to becoming depressed.) you take a step back and count down from 5 to 1.

And in that short span of time, it makes your brain go to a screeching halt and stops the negative thinking. It helps you refocus your attention so that you can start tasks. Whatever they may be, if you don't feel like doing them, don't wait for the motivation to strike. DO IT NOW.


Take a deep breath, count down from 5 to 1, and GO DO YOUR SHIT.


I was so pleasantly surprised when I discovered that this actually works!

It is also very useful if you suffer from random anxiety attacks like I do. It cuts that shit off fast. It is probably THE MOST USEFUL BRAIN HACK I HAVE EVER COME ACROSS. Seriously.
Try it. You won't be disappointed.

With everything that I accomplished this year, (and really, I have accomplished a lot! I published two books, started another serial, was establishing my reader fan base here on my blog and on Twitter, and getting a lot of praise for my writing) I was frustrated. I felt useless and like I was a huge failure.

Then I saw that video. I watched it several times.

Things starting clicking into place and I realized, I can change everything that is wrong with my life. Very easily. I just needed to do it.

And that is what I have been doing. One step at a time. I've been figuring out what I can do to make my life better, and I'm doing it. Some days are easier than others, but I am committed to making positive, permanent change in my life.

I'm also eating better.

Yeah, I also learned this year that I am gluten intolerant. Not in the trendy hipster way, but in the "oh shit this is fucking up my stomach and intestines" kind of way whenever I eat wheat. Like, the pain and bloating and other unsalacious things I won't mention that go along with Celiac disease kind of way. Of which,  also causes depression and a whole bunch of other nasty things if it is ignored. There's no cure for Celiac. There's no pill to make the symptoms better. The only thing to do is to not eat wheat, barley, rye, or any of their by-products.

So I am now on a low carb diet, sans gluten of any kind. And I FEEL BETTER! Mentally, and physically. And it's nice.


What do I anticipate will happen in 2018? 

I am going to work smarter, not harder.

I've started using this free app called HabitHub. It lets me track when I do certain tasks and gives me reminders that I can set during the day, to ensure that I finish them. It gives me a visual, a chain of finished events that I have done over the week. The goal is to get that chain longer and longer until I am just so damn proud of myself that I brag about it on social media.

The plan is to establish a new writing routine that gets my mind set up to habitually want to write every day. I did it before, back in 2009 when I first started doing technical writing for sites, so I know that I can do it again. And I will.

I've crunched the numbers (because I'm a HUGE PLANNER GAL) and figured out how much I need to write, on a daily basis, to get everything I want to do, done. This includes paid technical writing while I get my fiction writing career off the ground.

Doing paid writing work for websites also takes the pressure off of me, so that I can finally enjoy writing fiction again.

For every hour I do technical writing, I will do one hour of writing for fun. And naturally, for me, writing for fun involves a good amount of blood and suffering for my characters. Mwahahaha!

Also, I decided that if my books sell significant amounts next year, great! If not, I won't be crying about it. I'll just keep plugging away until I reach my sales goals and can scale back the technical writing side of things.

And finally, I am going to help my husband and lift him up so that he gets a better paying job. This will also take pressure off of me and will help us get a new house. Because sooner or later (hopefully sooner) we're going to be starting a family. I am looking forward to that.

How about you?

How was 2017 for you?

Do you have any goals for the new year?

I'd love to hear from you!

-Cassie





Tuesday, October 24, 2017

I'm Gearing up for NaNoWriMo 2017! Yes, I am that crazy.



Here's a Sneak Peek at what I'm going to be writing next month! 


Rites of Passage
Author: Cassie Carnage
Genre: Horror/Supernatural

Synopsis

A coming of age story about a young teenage boy trapped in a hellish future where everyone is happy, all the time, especially when they're not.

To avoid harmful emotions that society has deemed as dangerous to people as a loaded gun, everyone, when they turn 13 years of age, must have an emotion controlling face mask surgically installed.

Thanks to this miracle breakthrough, no hate, no fear, no sorrow exists. Just happiness. The world is at peace.

But, is it all a lie?

Henryson is about to find out.

It's his 13th birthday next week after all. And his family is so very happy for him. But, Henryson is not happy. He has to lie, to cover up the growing anxiety that is gnawing at his chest. When his friend, Gusson, offers to sneak him into the masking facility, so that they can see how it's done, they both learn the gruesome truth of the world.


Excerpt

“Will it hurt?”

“What? No, of course not. Don’t be silly sweety.”

“But my child-friend companion and fellow classmate told me how it’s done. He says it hurts a lot. They strip everything off, reveal you for who you really are. Then cover it all up with a smile.”

“Don’t listen to your classmates, they don’t know anything about how it’s really done. Trust me kiddo, you’ll be fine.”

Until age 13 children wear removable masks that are blank silver mirrors with open eye holes. Since children are unable to fully control feelings, and can’t get a mask until they are 13 years of age, the mirror masks were instated to spare everyone from seeing emotions on their faces. Sadness, anger, jealousy, and hate are horrible feelings, and must never be experienced.

Tomorrow is my thirteenth birthday. Lucky 13 as they say. The day when everything changes. No more tears, no more anger or confusion or frustration. Just happiness and joy, forever and ever. A smile every day, all day. For the rest of my life.

“Joy to the World,” as they sing during morning flag salute. Our flag has a picture of the Earth on it, with a big happy smile pasted over it. Smile, and the world smiles with you. Cry, and you cry alone. No one wants to be alone, so we help them. Fix them. Make them happy. The bad emotions are gone from adult life. It has made our world a safe place, with each day the same as the last.

If you're doing NaNoWriMo, feel free to add me as a writing buddy!
https://nanowrimo.org/participants/cassie-carnage/novels/rites-of-passage-1281019

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Here's a FREE CHAPTER from my Scifi Body Horror Novella THE SEAS ARE SCREAMING





GET THE SEASE ARE SCREAMING HERE 

Part Two


We spent the next month together.

Kiki took some time off to stay with me while I got used to the side-effects from the new medications.

The first few days were the worst, but after that, I began to even out and not feel so nauseous all the time, which was one hell of a relief, let me tell you.

I thought that I’d be stuck feeling like crap for months, but it only took a few weeks for me to start feeling like my old self again. I wasn’t as dizzy, nor as tired, and even though my legs still gave out sometimes, I was getting some of my strength back.

For the first time in over a month, I got a decent night’s sleep.

Unfortunately, I woke up early the next morning. If it weren’t for Kiki arguing on the phone, I would’ve slept until late that afternoon.

She was in the kitchen. Her voice traveled down the short hall and into the bedroom. The door was open just a crack and light from the kitchen spilled in.

I looked at the clock. It was 5:30 a.m.

Whoever called was important. Kiki didn’t get up much before noon on her days off.

“No. I told you, it’s all gone. There’s nothing left.”

I yawned and rolled over. I tried to get back to sleep, but I couldn’t. She was talking just a little too loud for that.

“Of course, of course. Yes. I did. No, no. The footage is corrupted. The samples are inconclusive.”

Ah. She’s talking about work. 

I put an arm over my face to block out the light.

“What! Are you sure?”

The tone of her voice made me sit up. Something wasn’t right.

“They’re dead? All of them?”

She better be talking about fish and not people…

Kiki sighed. “Yes, yes. I understand. I’ll see you at the lab. One o’clock. Yes! I’ll be there. Goodbye.” She hung up. “Shit!” she shouted and threw her phone against the living room wall. I heard her scrambling to dig it out from behind the couch.

Yawning, I got out of bed and shuffled to the living room to see what was going on.

Kiki was bent over the back of the couch, her bare ass up in the air, her pink satin nightgown had slipped up when she dove to reach behind it.

I was sorely tempted to smack it, but I decided not to. She was in a bad mood. Doing that would only direct her anger at me. I didn’t feel like dealing with that, so I behaved.

For once.

“Hey there, sweet cheeks. Everything all right?” I asked, startling her. She bumped her head on the wall as she stood up.

“Ow,” she said, rubbing her forehead. Her phone was in her other hand.

“What’s going on? Who were you arguing with?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. They’re just threatening to pull the grant money.”

“Again? I thought you guys convinced them that you’re on the right track.”

“Well, we did. But there’s been some…complications.”

I stifled a yawn. “What kind of complications?”

“Sabotage. At least, that’s what it sounds like.”

“Seriously?”

“The college board of directors thinks that someone actively sabotaged our work in Belize, and they want answers. Glassner is livid. He thinks that the college is purposefully looking for an excuse to shut us down.”

“You never mentioned this before.”

“Because it wasn’t that big of a deal. I mean, yeah, someone stole our research materials and dumped them in the ocean, but we got proof that they worked. The Caddis Initiative formula, the one that we helped create, it had cured coral bleaching. So the board of directors backed down. But now—” she sighed and made a helpless gesture with her hands.

I took them and put her phone down on the coffee table.

“Sit with me chamo. Tell me what happened.”

She sat on the couch and leaned into me. I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a hug. She squeezed my arms and held them close.

I gave her a moment to calm down before I asked, “So, was that your boss on the phone?”

“Yes. Professor Glassner wanted to give me a heads up. He thinks that corporate will send someone to interview us. And that could put us back weeks in our research. We’re at a delicate time in our studies. We can’t afford to put things on hold again.”

“You sure that’s all? Sounded like it was worse than that. Like something, or someone, had died.”

“Oh.”

“Did someone die?”

“What? No.” She waved it off with a nervous laugh. “It was just the fish we were using as test subjects. No one died. It’s not that bad. And you know, if we lose the grant money, I’ll still have a job teaching as adjunct faculty with him. He won’t lose his position as department head.”

“More like fish head.”

“I can’t believe you still say that stupid line.”

“I think it’s funny.”

“I know. I just…I don’t need this right now. I have enough to deal with. Why does everything always happen all at once?”

“That’s life chamo. No way to avoid it. It’s just how the universe works.”

“Well, it’s stupid. Fix it.”

“Take it up with God. I’m not the miracle worker. He is.”

“God is an artificial social construct invented by man to make sense of death and random horrible life events.”

“If you say so.”

Kiki was an atheist. I was raised Catholic. It was an interesting combination, to say the least.

“Hey, I’m sorry I woke you. I didn’t realize that I was being so loud.”

“It’s fine. I wasn’t sleeping well anyway. The new drugs give me weird dreams.”

“But, they’re keeping you alive, until they can find a way to safely operate on you, so there’s that.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m hungry. Make me breakfast woman.”

She chuckled. “You know that you only get away with saying that because I love you, right?”

I kissed her forehead. “Yup.”

“Good. Then, I’ll start breakfast.”

“Excellent.”

I wandered back to the bedroom and got dressed.

Sabotage? 

That kind of was a big deal. 

Why didn’t she tell me about this sooner? She had plenty of time since she returned from her research trip to tell me. Did she honestly think that it wasn’t that big of a problem? Or did she not want me to worry about it? 

It didn’t sit right with me.

Kiki had seemed a bit distracted for a few weeks after she came back, but I figured that it was just jet lag and the stress from getting her teaching lessons ready.

But, maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe she was worried about her project, and what it would do to the sea life.

I mean, I was no brilliant marine biologist working on getting a doctorate. I was a licensed plumber. I worked at the water treatment plant. But even I knew that just dumping experimental chemical compounds into the ocean wasn’t a good idea.

Plankton ingests that crap, bigger animals eat them, they in turn, are eaten by larger fish and so on. The substances build up in the larger fish’s bodies—like mercury for instance—and by the time we go to eat them, they are at toxic levels.
The ocean is a fine-tuned ecosystem.

Tip the scales too much in one direction, and there could be catastrophic results.

It was odd that she would keep this from me. Sure, Kiki kept secrets, but she always was upfront with me about things.

At least, I thought that she was, until now.

Made me wonder just what else she was keeping from me.

I sat on the couch and put my feet up on the coffee table while she started breakfast.

Bowser kept jumping on my chest, trying to lick my face. He wagged his tail, and bounced
everywhere, tongue lolling about and he tried to give me what Kiki affectionately called “kisses.”

Dog slobber was nasty.

“Ugh. Get down.” I pushed his stupid little butt until he jumped off the couch. “Kiki, where did you put the TV remote?”

“On the side table, with all of your other remotes.”

“Of course,” I muttered. “Why would I look anywhere else?”

She was in the kitchen, making pancakes. She loved making breakfast. Her cooking wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t the greatest, but it was edible.

“Did you find it?” she asked as she wiped her hands on a cute little frilly white apron with a pair of red lips on it that said KISS THE COOK.

If I wore it, it’d be hideous, but everything she wore looked super cute.

“Yeah. I found it. You don’t have to come over here.”

“You sure?” she asked and Bowser ran over to her and jumped on her leg until she reached down and picked him up. “Who’s a cutie patootie? You are, yes you are,” she said and kissed his nose.

He licked her face and she giggled.

“Hey, don’t let the pancakes burn.”

“Oh, fudge crackers,” she said and dropped Bowser and rushed back to the stove top and flipped the pancakes. “Crap!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shut up. They’re fine. Just, a little over-done is all.”

“Whatever. You know that I’ll eat anything. I’m not picky.”

“You’re so sweet.”

The 8 o’clock morning news came on, and the reporter started talking.

“Hey, turn that up. I want to hear it.”

I turned up the volume on the TV.

The reporter stood outside the fence of the water treatment plant I worked at.

“Over the past few weeks, the CDC has received numerous calls from fishermen and medical officials of Sausautucket, New Jersey. A mysterious new disease is affecting the wildlife, and the townsfolk as well.”

“Oh no,” Kiki said. “It’s in the news now? How many people have come down with it?”

“No idea. I thought they were going to say something about the water treatment plant, but they were just using it as a back drop to start the segment. I was just about to call Frankie to tell him to check it out.”

A guy on the TV showed the reporter a sore on his arm. It was a red oval lesion, with a silvery blister bubble in the center.

“Yeah, I had three that burst on my back last night, and this one showed up this morning. The docs don’t know what to make of it. They just send me home with antibiotics, but they ain’t doing squat,” the man said.

“This is just one example of the strange, unidentifiable disease that’s affected the town of Sausautucket. While it does not appear life threatening, it is painful enough to send people to the hospital in droves. 

“Some locals think that it is linked to bacterial contamination of the water supply, and they have blamed the old filtration units of the water treatment plant, which is currently scheduled for renovation this fall. We asked Superintendent Franklin Kelly earlier, and he said that while the water company has no official stance on the matter, he assured me that the filtration units have all been tested by OSHA and are in healthy running conditions. Back to you, Jim.”

I turned down the TV.

“So no one knows what is causing it, huh?” Kiki asked.

“Nope. Not a clue.”

Bowser barked at her, ran over to the door and started scratching it.

“In a sec, puppy! Sheesh,” she said and took off the apron and threw it over the top of a chair.

“What about the pancakes?”

“Ugh! Just, flip them when they start to bubble. I’ll be back in a minute” she said, sliding on her sandals. She grabbed Bowser’s pink leash, hooked it to his collar and stepped out of the apartment.

I sighed and walked over to the kitchen.

She’s crazy if she thinks I won’t murder these things. I’m a horrible cook.

I grabbed the spatula and stood over the pan. I held it like a baseball bat and swung it over the stove.

Outside, Bowser growled and started barking. I heard Kiki shout at him to shut up, and he continued barking like a madman. He must've seen a squirrel or something.

The pancakes started to bubble.  I tried to flip them over, but they didn't turn and became a mushy pile of batter in the pan.

“Perfect pancakes every time,” I said, mocking that stupid infomercial they keep playing for the PERFECT PANCAKE MAKER. It’s just a waffle iron with the grid removed. Definitely not worth $29.95 plus shipping.

Bowser yelped.

Damn, that little dog is freaking loud. I wonder what he got into now?

I turned off the stove burner and slid the pancake lumps onto the plate. No way I could make anything edible. She could deal with it.

My phone beeped.

Kiki sent me a text that read, “COME OUTSIDE!!!!!”

Bowser probably got away from her again and was hiding underneath the apartment dumpster out back. He’s done that every time she took him out this week. The little bastard was obsessed with something he thought was under there.

Maybe he smelled a dead rat.

I put on my shoes and grabbed my keys, locking the door behind me before easing my way down the steps and out the side door of the apartment complex.

An ambulance streaked by with the siren wailing.

It was the third one this morning. Stupid tourists. There were always more ambulances out once tourist season started.

“Where are you chamo?”

“Over here! By the dumpster.”

Called it.

Kiki was squatting by the rusty green dumpster and poking at something with a short stick. Her blue ruffled mini-skirt hiked up high on her thighs. Her panties peeked out from under them. They matched the skirt and had delicate white lace trim around the edges.

Nice.

“Who you giving fan service to?” I asked and flipped up the back of her skirt.

Kiki reached back with one hand and pulled it down.

“No one. Jeez!”

“What are you doing down there? Helping Bowser fish for roaches?”

“No.”

“What then?”

She grinned at me.

“I found something.”

“Found what? Where’s Bowser?”

“I tied him to the tree over there so he wouldn’t get bit.”

“Bit by what?” I asked and tried to look around her.

“Wait a sec.” Kiki put out a hand to block me. “I want to take a picture and send this to Professor Glassner before it moves again.”

“Oh, the college guy? The one you're in love with? Didn’t you talk to him enough this morning?”

“No. Not him, the other one.”

“Oh. Him. I see. Carry on.”

I leaned against the dumpster as she took pictures.

“Okay Bam Bam, come here and check it out,” she said as she sent a text. “I want to see what Prof thinks it is. I've never seen anything like it before.”

I popped a squat next to her.

“So, what are we looking at exactly?”

“Some sort of marine creature I think.”

In front of the dumpster was a legless purple crab the size of a football. It was covered in a lumpy, pulsating pile of white slime.

The slime wiggled like Jell-O when she poked it with a stick.

“How did it get here?” I asked.

“A bird probably dropped it. Could’ve picked it up off the beach thinking it could eat it or something.”

“Stop messing with it, you’re going to piss it off.”

“I’m trying to observe its response to physical stimuli.”

“You’re poking it with a stick.”

“Don’t question me while I am performing the scientific method.”

“All right, have it your way.”

The creature chittered, and a crab leg unfolded up out the top center of the shell with a loud crack.
The leg batted the stick away.

“What the hell? What is that?” I asked, and took a step away from it.

“I don't know. Isn't that great? Becca, this could be a new marine species!”

“A mutant crab? I highly doubt it.”

“You lack imagination.” Her phone chimed and she looked at it. “Prof just texted me. He wants me to bring it to the lab. Help me find something to put it in.”

I spotted a piece of cardboard on the concrete grabbed it.

“Hey, why don't we use the dog carrier?  We’ll shove that thing into it with this, and zip it up tight. After we eat, you can drive it over to the lab and drop it off.”

“Good idea. You're the best Bam Bam.”

“Why do I get the feeling that I'm going to regret this?”

She leaned over and kissed me.

“I'll make sure that you won't. Here’s the car keys.”

I popped opened the back hatch of her Mini Cooper. I looked at the dog carrier and had second thoughts.

If that crab was covered in a nasty parasite or bacteria, and we couldn't clean it properly, it could infect Bowser.

Damn.

I shut the door, tossed the cardboard scrap aside and went back over to her.

Bowser was yipping and growling, bouncing back with each bark, digging up grass with his claws as he went.

“Shh! Bow-Bow. Be quiet.” Kiki pointed her finger at him. He ignored her and kept right on barking.

“Oh yeah. He's trained real good there, chamo.”

“Where’s the carrier? Did I forget it at my place?”

“No. It’s in there. But it’s not going to work.”

“Why not? It’s big enough, right?”

“No, that’s not the issue…Ugh. All this excitement is making me lightheaded. I’m getting dizzy.”
Kiki grabbed my arm and helped me over to sit on the back steps.

“Sit here a minute.”

“Thanks.”

I took a deep breath and waited for the world to stop spinning.

“As I was saying, for all we know, that thing could be infected with a nasty disease. If we put Bow-Bow in the carrier afterward, and we don’t clean it out well enough? He could get whatever it has and end up being dissected in a lab.”

“Crap. You’re right. I guess we need a box and something to scoop it up with.”

“Sure, let me just pull a shovel out of my ass and we'll pick it up.”

“The apartment complex has a snow shovel by the back door. We could use that.”

“Oh yeah. And maybe if you ask the complex manager nicely and show him your tits he’ll let you keep it.”

“Good idea. I’ll go find him now.”

“You're an idiot.”

“Well, you're the one who loves an idiot, so what does that make you?”

“The smart one in this relationship. Duh. Keep your shirt on and let me think a minute.”

She laughed.

Behind her, the weird crab quivered and shook.

“Oh neat,” Kiki said and walked back over to look at it.

“Hey, don’t get too close.”

Bowser whined. He sounded scared.

The slime coating shivered, then pulled tight against the crab’s body, and disappeared. Like it was rapidly absorbed.

Chamo, come back here, it could be dangerous,” I said and gently pulled her over to stand next to me.

There was a sharp bone-cracking sound. The shell shrank to about half its size, and ten crab legs popped up from the top and unfolded, pulling the remnants of the white jelly into strings as they parted open.

It was almost as if it had just made the legs out of its shell.

But…that wasn’t possible. Was it?

Madre de Dios,” I said and crossed myself.

Kiki grabbed my shoulders and hid behind me, using my body as a shield as we watched it move.
The legs were all over, sticking up at odd angles on the top and sides of its body. They twitched and stretched out, tentatively touching the asphalt. They weren’t in the right spots for it to walk with them; some barely reached the ground, others were at awkward angles that would not support its weight.

“What is that?” I whispered.

“I don’t know.”

As we stood and stared, the base sockets of the legs were pushed out of the crab body by tiny orange roots. Like weird alien tentacles, the roots walked the legs, sockets and all, down to the sides of the shell, where they wriggled and burrowed back into the body.

“It has free-floating legs. How is that possible?” she asked.

“No clue. You're the marine biologist. You tell me.”

Kiki shoved her phone past my head to record a video as it stood up and took slow, measured, jerking steps towards Bowser.

There was no telling what it would do if it got a hold of him.

I had to stop it with something before anyone got hurt.

There was an empty milk crate sitting by the back door. The ground was littered with cigarette butts, so it had to be our downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Waters. She liked to sit when she smoked.

“Stay here. Don't let that thing get close to you,” I said.

“And what are you going to do?”

“Save your stupid dog before he gets eaten.”

I walked towards the back door, my head pounding with the start of one hell of a migraine.
Kiki picked up the stick she was poking it with earlier and tossed it at the crab. It startled, pulled all its legs close, then made a strange angry hissing sound.

“Kiki!”

“What?”

“Why did you do that? You’re pissing it off.”

“I had to see if its eyes worked the same way as a normal crab’s.”

“Do they?”

“Yes. Its eyes can sense motion by detecting changes in light and shadows,” she said. “If you don’t move fast, it won’t see you.”

“Like the T-Rex in JURASSIC PARK, right? It can't see me if I'm standing still?”

“Yup. Exactly like that.”

I took a step and waited.

The crab inched toward me.

I took another step and stopped.

It did the same.

The distance between myself and that thing was longer than the distance to the back door. If I timed it right, I could make it to the milk crate just before the mutant crab reached me.

Keeping my eyes on it, I took slow, long strides on shaking legs over to the crate.

With each step, it moved closer to me.

“Be careful Becca.”

“I got this. Just stay calm.”

 When I was an arm's length away I rushed for the crate. The crab skittered fast towards me; its legs digging into the asphalt, scraping deep white lines as it went.

I snatched up the milk crate and slammed it over the creature just as it tried to spear me with a leg.
The crab grunted and squeaked. Long, black needle-sharp quills popped out of the top of its shell.  I pulled my hands away before it could stick me with them.

I snatched the large rock Mrs. Peters used to prop open the back door and set it on the milk crate, anchoring it in place, and stepped back.

The crab stopped quivering. The needles pulled back into its body, which then turned a threatening bright red.

“Holy crap! It has chromatophores too?” Kiki shouted.

“It has what now?”

“Skin cells that let octopi and chameleons change their skin color.”

“Ah.”

One of its front legs cracked loudly as it elongated and doubled in size. A set of finger-length, mottled lilac pincers formed on the end.

The pincered leg touched the milk crate in different spots like it was exploring the points to find where the bars intersected on the sides.

“Are you okay?” Kiki asked. “You’re shaking pretty bad.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. It didn’t get me.”

“You sure?”

“I’m good. Really, I’m fine.”

She picked up Bowser and carried him over.

“Oh man. This is so scary, and yet so cool.”

“Chamo, that thing tried to attack us. Why are you happy about it?”

“Because it's unique. We're looking at what could be an entirely new species of animal. It’s exciting!”

“And that's a good thing?” I asked, eying it cautiously.

“Yes. Because we discovered it.”

“You know, if you take it to the college, the science department heads will get all the credit for it.”

“No, they won't. They’re not like that.”

Bowser wriggled, trying to break free from her arms, and she held him tighter.

“You kidding? That's the way the world works. You're the lowly peasant. You get no credit.”

“Boo. But, we should still take it to Professor Glassner. We need to study this. It could be super important. I mean, what if you're right and it has a contagious disease that we've never seen before?”

I sighed.

“Fine. But we're going to need something better than a milk crate to carry it. I have an empty storage tub upstairs. That should hold it. We can throw it out when we’re done. I’ll go get it.”

“You sure you want to run up and grab it? I mean, I could do it for you. You can stay here, and watch Bow-Bow and the crab.”

“I’ll be fine. We’re on the second floor. I'll only be a few minutes, tops. Just don't let anyone near it. Tell them it's poisonous or something.”

“Okay. Be careful Bam Bam. Don’t run on the stairs and fall and hurt your head. I’d hate to have to take you to the hospital again.”

“I’ll be careful, promise,” I said and went inside, going up the stairs as fast as I dared, gripping the handrail to support myself.

She was right, the last thing I needed was to fall and crack my head open.

I opened my door and rushed inside, leaving the keys in the lock and the door wide open. With shaking hands, I grabbed the empty clear storage tub, made sure that the lid would seal tight and locked the door.

I double-checked to make sure I had my keys, then rushed down the stairs. I didn’t hear Mrs. Waters walking up to her apartment and ran right into her, then bounced my hip on the end of the rail and caught myself before I fell and smacked my head on the floor.

“Damn it.”

“Oh my!  I’m so sorry! Are you hurt?” she asked, and took my arm with a pudgy hand to help steady me. Her floral mumu dress was a wall of powder blue fabric with large tropical flowers sticking their tongues out at the world. It was lurid, yet kitschy at the same time.

“Thanks. No, I’m not hurt. Sorry about that. I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“Oh? Where's the fire?”

“At your mom's,” I said and she laughed as I stepped outside.

Kiki stood there, holding the doggy carrier—now with Bowser inside—watching the crab with wide eyes.

“Did you turn off the stove?” she asked.

“Yeah. I did that before I came out.”

 “Cool. You know, I have to admit, this is rather unsettling. Something’s really off about this thing. I don't like how quickly its body changed. I mean, those needles weren't there before. They weren't hiding in the mess of silver mucous or its lumpy shell. It made its legs and those quills in response to feeling threatened by us. Crabs can't change their bodies like that. It's just not natural.”

“You’re right. They don’t. Go pull your car up. I’ll  put the crab in this and we’ll head straight to the college.”

“Sure,” she said and got into her car. She backed it out of the parking spot and pulled up beside the dumpster.

I stepped over to the milk crate.

While I was gone, two of the crab legs had moved closer to the front and had turned into serrated half-claws.  They were sawing through the plastic arms of the crate’s grid.

Kiki rolled down her window and popped open the passenger side door.

“When did it get those?” I asked.

“Just now, I think.”

“Wonderful. Just give me a sec and I’ll scoop it up.”

Kiki nodded and gripped the steering wheel tight.

She was nervous.

So was I.

“This is loco. Why am I doing this?” I asked myself as I slowly walked up to the crate.
I slowly tilted one end of the milk crate up and slid the tub lid under it. The crab legs lifted to allow the lid to slide under its body.

I did this once with a spider I caught in a glass cup on the table. I had slipped a piece of paper under the rim of the glass and kept pushing it across. The spider calmly walked onto the paper, just as the crab was doing now with the plastic lid.

Once the lid was completely under the crab, I flipped the tub upside-down and set it over the milk crate. I pushed down and snapped it into the lid, securely shutting the crate and the strange crab inside.

I carefully lifted up the tub, still holding it upside down, and walked it over to the car.

“This thing is heavier than it looks. Be careful,” I said as I handed her the tub.

“Whoa. You weren't kidding. How much do you think it weighs?”

“Off the top of my head? Probably 25 pounds or so.”

“Wow.”

I got into the passenger seat, buckled the seat belt, and took the tub from her.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Let’s do this.”

Kiki backed up fast, kicking up gravel as she turned her Mini Cooper around and drove out onto the main road.

I could almost hear the gears turning in her head. It was like she couldn’t decide if she should be excited or scared about all of this.

“This is just, incredible. I mean, this is really, really exciting stuff here.”

“I don't know, something isn't right about all of this.”

“Why? Because it's exhibiting behavior never before observed in animal life on Earth?”

“Yes. That's exactly why I think that. It's unnatural. It is of el Diablo.”

“Oh, no. Don't go getting all superstitious on me now.”

“I can't help it. I'm Latina. Catholicism is in my blood.”

“Right. How silly of me to forget,” she said and pulled onto the street that led to the community
college.

Bowser whined from inside of his carrier on the backseat.

“See? Even your dog doesn’t trust that thing.”

“Oh, Bow-Bow whines like that every time I take him in the car. That’s normal.”

“If you say so.”

Plastic snapped inside the tub, making me jump.

“What was that?” she asked.

“It’s breaking the crate apart.”

Kiki whistled. “Aggressive little bugger, huh? Here, text Professor Glassner and tell him we’ll be
there in a few minutes.”

She handed me her phone and I looked at her funny.

“What?”

“I hate your phone, it’s retarded.”

“Is not. You’re just an iThingie hater.”

“Whatever.”

I figured out what app to hit and selected Professor Glassner from the list and sent him a text.

He replied right away with,“Meet me at the back door.”

“He said to meet him at the back door, and to leave your panties in the car.”

“He did not. Shut up.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think someone’s prof is a pervert.”

“Idiot. Give me the phone.”

I handed it to her and she glanced at the text and gave me a look.

“You are so stupid.”

“You should know better than to believe me when I say things like that.”

“I guess so.”

Kiki parked the car next to the side door of the marine sciences building.

“Hold on, I’ll get the door for you,” she said, and came around the side and popped open the car door. I gave her the tub so that I could climb out of her little clown car, and then took it from her.

Kiki grabbed Bowser's carrier from the backseat.

“Leave him.”

“I can’t. It’s too hot to leave him in the car.”

“Fine. Whatever. Let’s go, this is getting heavy. I probably shouldn’t even be carrying it.”
She gave me an apologetic look and we walked towards the faculty entrance, where Professor
Glassner opened the door and let us in.

“This way ladies, we’ll take it to the lab.”

He ushered us to his classroom.

Kiki held the door for me and I walked inside.

“Set it down over here please,” he said and I gently placed the tub on the lab table.

The professor locked his door and then lowered all the window blinds.

“It's not a gremlin, prof. It's not going to burn up in sunlight or anything,” I said.

“Can't have prying eyes looking at this before we get to study it in detail. There's no way I'm letting
Doctor Collins get the credit for this.”

He brushed back his thinning brown hair with a hand and straightened his rumpled lab coat.
That coat seriously needed bleaching, and his old worn Oxford shoes slid over the tiled floor as he walked. Not exactly the safety oriented type. In fact, he looked like the type to forget about important, dangerous things.

I gave Kiki a look. She grinned sheepishly and shrugged. She liked Professor Glassner.

She trusted him.

Silly girl.

“Kiki, you didn’t introduce us,” he said.

“This is my friend, Rebecca Espinoza. Everyone calls her Becca. Becca, this is Professor Glassner.”

“I kind of figured,” I said.

“Oh, you must be the one that was in the hospital that she was telling me about the other day. How has the medication been working for you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You have a brain hemorrhage condition. What’s it called?” He snapped his fingers. “Cerebral cavernous malformation. That’s the name of it right?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Ah. Kiki didn’t say that it was a sensitive subject for you. Forgive me for bringing it up.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. It just killed my mom and aunt. It’s not a big deal at all.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. You know, you could sign up for a new trial drug they’re testing for it. It could help with some of the symptoms.”

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

My heart was pounding.

I was pissed.

Son of a bitch. 

Kiki told him I was sick. 

She promised me she wouldn’t tell anyone.

Not only that, but she said that she wasn’t going to lie about us anymore. And she introduced me as a friend?

A friend?

Unbelievable.

The room tilted a foot to the right and I grabbed onto the edge of the lab table to steady myself. If I got too mad, and my blood pressure spiked, I could be in serious trouble.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

“What’s wrong?” Kiki asked.

“Nothing. Just dizzy. I’m going to sit over here until we go if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.”

I hopped up on a stool, leaned my back against the lab table and waited for the room to stop spinning.

She told him about my illness, but not that we were dating? 

I thought that I was used to it, but I wasn't.

Kiki still hasn’t told anyone that she’s gay. No one she went to school with or worked with knew about us. 

Besides, wasn’t she going to “turn over a new leaf” and let people know the truth about her? About us?

Fucking figures. 

She isn’t ever going to change, is she?

“Well then, let’s open this up and take a look at what we’ve got here,” Glassner said and popped off the tub lid.

“Be careful,” Kiki warned. “It reacts fast. It’s surprisingly agile. And it keeps physically adapting its body to new stimuli.”

“Adapting. In what way?”

“Growing legs and quills out of nowhere,” I said.

“Really? I find that highly implausible.”

“Whether you believe it or not Professor, that thing is hyper adaptive. I’ve never seen a marine animal change its body so drastically in such a short amount of time. It’s almost as though it came into contact with something that’s forcing its body to change.”

They exchanged a look that made me uneasy.

They knew something and they weren't telling me about it.

But why?

He stood close to her as he removed the tub.

Bowser whined and I took the carrier from Kiki.

“Oh, thanks, Becca.”

“Sure,” I said and put it on the lab table next to me.

Bowser looked around, sniffed the air, his pointed ears moving this way and that as he tried to figure out where he was now.

I looked at him and whispered, “I hope that thing bites him. You?”

He sneezed in reply.

I was pretty sure that meant yes.

Glassner put the tub on the side of the lab table and whistled.

The serrated half-claw legs were busy sawing apart the thick plastic rungs on the milk crate.
Bits of the black plastic was covering the top of the crab in places like spikes of armor. It looked like it removed the rungs and shoved them into its shell.

“What in the world are you?” he asked and squatted down so that he was eye-level with the table and looked at the mouths on its underside. “Mandibles and chelipeds on the abdomen? I wonder if they all lead to its stomach or if they’re vestigial?”

“Who knows?” I said. “You got a cage or a tank that thing can fit in? You don’t want it roaming around here. It’ll tear this place apart.”

“Good point. There’s a spare tank next door. I’ll go grab it,” he said and stepped out of the room.

 Kiki stood there, watching the crab as it cut the milk crate apart.

“That plastic crate is thick. It’s hard to bend or cut through,” she said.

“Yup. That’s why I grabbed it.”

“So, how is it ripping it apart so quickly?”

I eased off the stool and stood by her. “Those claws, they look crazy sharp.”

“They do. There’s metal lining them now. They’re like serrated knives or a saw. Holy crap dude, this is insane.”

I pointed.

“Check it, there’s a mouth on the front now.”

It looked like the main mouth of the crab, except the mandibles were longer with hooked ends. It looked more like a squid's beak than a crab's mandibles.

“Whoa. That looks super dangerous.”

“It didn’t before? What are you, stupid?”

“No. What’s your problem?”

“I have a killer headache and I’m hungry,” I said as Glassner came back in carrying a large fish tank with a metal lid.

He set it down on the table.

“This is reinforced fiberglass,” he said, rapping his knuckles against the side of the tank. “I got it last year when a student was studying mantis shrimp. Those things can hit the bottoms of tanks so hard, they crack the glass.”

“Damn. That’s impressive.”

“They’re very interesting creatures. The lid clamps down on it, so the crab will have a difficult time pushing it up and off it.”

“What do you think it eats?” Kiki asked.

“Miniature Pinschers,” I said and she hit my arm.

“I would hazard to guess that it would consume what other crabs in the area eat. What beach did you find this on?” he asked.

“Um. We didn’t find it at the beach. It was outside Becca’s apartment building, hiding by the dumpster.”

“Eating the concrete,” I added.

“Eating…the concrete?” he said and raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously?” Kiki asked.

“Yup. There’s a hole in it now. I noticed it as we were driving away. It cut a disk clean out of the parking lot.”

“That’s bizarre. I’d love to see it. Got a picture of it?”

“No,” Kiki said. “We thought it best to come straight here. I’ll take a picture and send it to you when
we get back.”

“Good idea. I’m going to go grab some Kevlar gloves and then we’ll gently slide the specimen into the tank. Becca, would you mind helping Kiki move the tank onto a pair of stools and holding it steady while we transfer it?”

“Only if I get gloves too,” I said and he shot me a look. “What? You want me to catch something nasty from it? I’m not getting that close without some sort of protection on my hands.”

“Becca has a point,” Kiki said. “Its legs are quite long. For all we know, it can hyper-extend them and hit us as we try to move it.”

Glassner stood there, watching the crab for a moment.

“You’re right. I’ll get three pairs.”

He walked over to the closet in the lab and pulled out three metal meshed gloves and gave us both a pair to put on.

“I thought you said these were Kevlar,” I said while sliding them on.

“They’re Kevlar-lined steel mesh gloves. We use them to handle sharks.” Kiki flexed her fingers in her gloves. “Bring that stool over here, will you?”

I picked up the stool and placed it next to the one she grabbed from another lab table. We picked up the fish tank and set it on them.

Kiki took off the lid and tipped it on its side.

“You hold that, and as soon as that thing gets in here, put it on,” I said and Kiki nodded.

“We’ll tip the tank upright after we’ve secured it,” Glassner said.

“Yup. Let’s do this,” I said and held the tank steady.

Glassner took a deep breath. “Right,” he said and held his hands awkwardly over the crab. It stopped ripping off a piece of the bottom of the tub and all of the clawed legs raised upward towards his hand and started snapping at him.

“Oh my,” he said. “Uh…”

I sighed.

“Put your hands down. It follows motion. Just grab the end of the tub lid and slide it over, like you said you were going to do in the first place.”

“Yes. I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yup.”

Kiki watched, her eyes wide. “Be careful Prof.”

“Always,” he said. “All right. On three. One. Two. Three.”

He shoved the lid off the lab table and into the huge tank. The large crab skittered up the lid and onto Glassner’s arm. He cried out, startled as it pinched his lab coat and tried to rip it off of him. Without thinking I grabbed the back of the crab and yanked it off and shoved it into the tank.

Kiki slammed the lid down and locked the clasps in place.

“Bam Bam, your gloves.”

My hands were bare.

The gloves were gone.

I looked at the tank.

My gloves were stuck to the sides of the crab.

“I did not mean to do that.”

“No harm in it,” Glassner said.

There were a few rips in his lab coat sleeves, but no blood. It didn’t look like it hurt him.

“Are you two uninjured?”

“I’m fine,” Kiki said.

“It didn’t get me. It just stole my gloves.”

“But your hands,” Glassner said. “They’re scraped up.”

I looked at them. Scrapes ran over the tops of my hands.

They started to ooze little droplets of blood.

“Huh. That’s weird.”

“We should clean those out, just in case,” Kiki said and she grabbed my arm and walked me over to the sink.

Glassner brought the first aid kit and she washed out the scrapes on my hands.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“No. Should it?”

“I dunno. Just asking.”

“It’s fine,” I said and pulled my hands away. “I think I can handle washing my hands. Go help lover boy finish whatever it is you need to do to study it and let’s go home. I’m starving.”

“Um, sure,” she said, looking a little upset.

Whatever. She’s the one that’s lying to everyone about us. She has no right to be mad at me.
I finished washing my hands and dried them. I put a couple of bandages on the biggest scrapes.

It should've stung like a bitch, but it didn't hurt at all.

Was this a new symptom of my illness? Or was there something else wrong with me?

I sat and watched them move the tank with the crab onto a wheeled cart.

“I’m taking the next few days off, so I’m not going to leave this here. I’ll take it home to study it,” Glassner said.

“Are you sure? I mean, what if it’s dangerous?” Kiki asked.

“I’ve worked with dangerous marine animals in the past. I’ll be fine,” he said. Sweat was beading up on his forehead.

“You okay there Prof?” I asked. “You’re looking a bit pale.”

“I’m fine. It was just nerve wracking there for a moment.”

“Do you think it could be poisonous?” she asked.

“A poisonous crab? Highly doubtful,” he said and poured a little bit of water into the tank. The crab grunted and squeaked and pulled some of its legs of the sides of the tank and put them in the water.

“There you go, little guy. I’ll get you some food in a moment.”

He talked to it.

And I thought that my girlfriend was weird.

This dude was a fruitcake.

Kiki walked up to me and took my hands gently.

“Thanks for helping. We’ll be done soon.”

 I pulled away from her. “Take your time. Don’t mind me.”

“What’s with the attitude?”

“Nothing. Just hurry up so we can leave. I’m starving.”

I ended up waiting half an hour as Kiki helped Professor Glassner load up some science tools and junk into his Jeep. I just sat there at the lab table, with my head resting on my arm.

I must've fallen asleep because Kiki startled me when she touched me.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Fine. You done yet?”

“We just need your help putting the tank into the back of the Jeep.”

I sighed. “All right.”

I followed her out the side door and into the faculty parking lot.

Glassner stood next to the tank, watching the crab.

It had ripped off one of its arms, which was now coated in a layer of metal, and was scraping the bottom of the tank with its coarse-toothed edge.

The only thing that remained of my gloves were the rubber cuff threads. They were in a discarded pile in a corner of the tank.

“This is just absolutely fascinating,” he said.

“Yeah. Sure is,” I said and walked over. “What do you want me to do?”







Now available to read on Amazon Kindle Unlimited for Free here

Tuesday, July 4, 2017

Here's an EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT of my book CADDIS INITIATIVE PHASE ONE: INFECTION!



Toni shook me awake and was hissing my name.

“What?”

“Sh!” He pointed behind me. A red light was illuminating the area. I could make out tree branches and could see weird black thread-like worms crawling all over them. They were in the truck bed too.

I turned to look and stared.

Up in the tree, on the branch directly beside me, was an usually large box jellyfish, the size of a huge beach ball. Inside it there was a sack of silver fluid that was pulsing in time with the red bioluminescent lights that raced up and down its bell.

It shouldn’t be able to survive on land, let alone crawl around. It should’ve deflated and died as it dried out.

And yet there it was.

But that wasn’t the strangest part.

No.

The oddest thing about it, was that it had legs. Sea anemone tentacles, for legs. They were as thick as my thighs, and very pliable. It had them wrapped around the tree branches as it searched the area with a single tentacle that had eyes in two columns on either side of it.

The eyes looked like ones you’d find on an octopus or a squid, with little metallic flecks in the pupils.

Toni waved at me to come over to his side of the truck bed. I started to clumsily crawl over to him, and it spotted me.

Two of its legs whipped out and grabbed onto my arms and dragged me towards it. The legs stung me. I screamed. It burned, horribly. Felt like someone put a blowtorch directly onto my flesh. Where it made direct contact, my skin turned bright red and blistered.

The harder it squeezed, the more I felt its needles shove through my coveralls, into my skin, and inject it with venom. I swear I could almost see the nematocysts shoot out of its epidermis and into me.

“Becca!” Toni grabbed my arms tried to pull me away but it was too strong. It grabbed him with several of its free legs and I could see his skin near the contact areas turn bright magenta as he screamed in agony.

I was gasping for air. It hurt so much it was hard to breathe. I remembered Kiki told me once about a tiny little thimble-sized jellyfish down in Australia with a sting so bad, that the pain alone killed people. I imagined that this is what they felt when stung by it.

Toni managed to punch the large jellyfish hard enough to make it let go of him, and he tackled me and ripped me out of its legs. He had tentacle-shaped welts across his face and neck and arms, and they were covered in large blisters.

“Come on,” he said and shoved me towards the edge of the truck bed. He climbed over and grabbed my hand and pulled me out with a strength I didn’t know he had. We started climbing down the tree, and the weird jellyfish got onto the truck and I heard it smash the windows and start ripping things out of it.

“That’s not normal,” Toni said. “This isn’t right. This just isn’t fucking right. This has to be some sort of alien invasion or something,” he muttered as he steered me from branch to branch.

I wasn’t thinking at that point, just trying not to fall to my death. But I was so weak, it was getting really hard to hold on.

“Just a little further, come on Bam Bam, you can do it.”

I nodded. We were both gasping for air. The jellyfish venom was racing through our bloodstreams and it hurt. So fucking bad. My whole body burned. I couldn’t imagine what Toni felt like. He was stung more than I was.

“Come on, not much further.”

He kept prodding me along. If it weren’t for his voice, I would’ve clung to a branch and stayed there until my lungs or heart gave out.

When we got close enough to the ground, he jumped down and helped me off a branch.

I couldn’t stand, so he set me down against a tree and slumped down next to me.

“Thank you,” I slurred.

He nodded. He was gasping roughly. It didn’t sound good.

“Toni?”

He pointed up. “See how high? We made it down. We did it.”

“We did.”

He smiled and tears rolled down his swollen cheeks. “I saved you.”

“You did.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks.”





Now available to read on Amazon Kindle Unlimited for Free! 

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

Here's a Sneak Peek at my upcoming Body Horror Novel Caddis Initiative Phase One: Infection





Almost all of the fish were dead and floating in the corner of the tank where the pump sucked water in. Their bodies covered in sores. Only one was alive, and it was gasping and swimming in a slow circle at the bottom of the tank. Strange black worms that looked like thin threads were poking out of its gills every time it opened its mouth to pump more water across them.

“Oh. Shit.” I took out my phone and called Kiki. I got a busy signal. She must be chatting with Jason.  “Damn it.” I hung up, took a pic of the fishes and texted her, then waited for a reply.

As I stood there, the poor little bluegill shuddered and sank to the bottom of the tank, where the body started inflating rapidly.

“What the hell?”

I stared as the fish’s scales lifted straight up off its body like an obscene porcupine, and its body bloated up and up and up, like someone had attached a balloon pump to it, and then, it just, exploded.

I jumped back.

Water splashed onto the floor. The tank water became even cloudier, and I could barely make out hundreds of black and white worms squirming about it. I saw a few of them start to burrow into the frayed chunks of fish flesh that had landed next to the side of the tank.

“That can’t be good.”

Shaking my head, I called Frankie. His phone rang for what felt like forever before he answered.

“Yes Becca?” he shouted.

“Frankie, we have a serious problem over here.”

Now available to read on Amazon Kindle Unlimited for Free! 



Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Free Preview of HELENA

Helena was the perfect little girl. Always polite. Always kind. Always hungry.

Here's an exclusive excerpt of HELENA By Cassie Carnage!


No sooner did she put her head to the pillow did she hear it, a soft rhythmic scratching, like a cat at the door trying to get in.

Beneath that noise, a fainter one, that of a child crying. It pulled at her heartstrings. She couldn’t ignore that.

Susan grabbed her robe and ran outside. It was dark and foggy; the thick early morning mist was cold against her face. She walked all the way around her house. The scratching, it sounded like it was coming from the basement. It was louder when she knelt by the back door that lead to the cellar.

It was coming from inside the house.

Did an animal break in? She wasn't sure. It was too late to call animal control.

Sighing, Susan grabbed a broom and turned on the cellar light.

"Mother, help me!"

It was a little girl. She was down there!

"Hello?" Susan called and slowly walked down the steps, instantly regretting not putting on shoes. The cellar stairs were wood with no back-riser board, just a blank space between the steps. Anyone, or anything, could reach out, grab her ankles and yank her feet out from under her, sending her tumbling down to the basement floor to break her neck.

She grimaced at the thought and steeled herself, trying hard not to jump at any sound as the old wood groaned under her weight.

The scratching became louder.

"Hello? Little girl? I’m here to help. Are you hurt? How did you get in here?"

Susan looked around, the back corner near the water heater had no light. She had to go over and yank a pull-chain hanging down from a bare light bulb. She cursed herself for not getting the basement furnished before she moved in, but it was far too late for that now.

The scratching changed from fast short scrapes to long, slow ones. Like little fingernails on a door.

She looked over at the cellar door, expecting to see a girl huddled against it. There was no one there.

Susan let out the breath she was holding.

"Mother! Over here!"

Startled she dropped the broom. It clattered to the floor, and the scratching stopped.

She looked around cautiously, stooping to pick up the broom, imagining a small evil child hiding behind the water heater, waiting to pounce.

A scraping sound came from behind her, from the other side of the brick foundation wall. It was enough to get her to grab the broom and race back up the stairs, slamming the door behind her.

Helena was the perfect little girl. Always polite. Always kind. Always hungry.



Available to read for FREE on Kindle Unlimited Now! 

Monday, May 1, 2017

READ Walpurgisnacht, A FREE MAY DAY Witch story from my book WE ARE ALL MONSTERS!

Here is a free story from my book WE ARE ALL MONSTERS about Walpurgisnacht, or MAY DAY. Enjoy! 



“Enough! This superstitious nonsense must stop!”

“Or what? Do you know why we have the May Day Festival? Truly?”

“I won't hear another word of this. Get out of my office.”

“You say we're superstitious, and yet you let your lives be ruled by the fear of Hellfire and Brimstone.”

“Get. Out. Of. My. Office!”

“Fine,” she said and picked up her hand bag. “Cancel the festival. Deny our cultural heritage. See what happens when you do.”

“You know what will happen? Nothing, because none of that is real. The Baptists have money, you don't. They're using the fairgrounds today, because they can pay for it, and you can't. It's as simple as that.”

Mrs. Calvera tisked the councilman.

“We shall see Mr. Bundy.  We shall see. I'd wish you a good weekend, but...it's far too late for that.”
“Whatever you are planning, I suggest you stop.”

“Me? I will be doing nothing but praying for us all.” Mrs. Calvera left, shutting the door gently behind her.

“Superstitious old hag. There's nothing here.”

Mr. Bundy went back to work, answering e-mails about millage proposals and counting down the hours until his shift ended.

Mrs. Calvera stood at the edge of town, her heart dropping to her stomach as she stared at the big banner they had put up for the Tent Revival. They had canceled the May Day festival and let the Holy Rollers in to use the sacred land.

They had really gone and done it this time.

Their little town in the middle of nowhere in Michigan's Upper Peninsula wasn't known for much, just a little centuries old crumbling church and monastery that held the mummified body of a local saint.

 Festival attendance had waned over the years as jobs started to disappear and the younger generations moved on to greener pastures.

The remaining locals started to lose interest in their cultural heritage. It really was a pity.

Now the town council decided to not hold their May Day festival. The one they always had since the place had been settled by French Catholic missionaries.

Why?

Because a new fundamentalist Baptist church had moved in, and people loved to throw money at those con men.

Mrs. Calvera walked past the old mission grounds where the Baptists were raising their tents. One of them looked her way, smiled and waved, and starting walking towards her.

She pulled out her Saint medallion and kissed it, praying to God for strength, but it didn't come.

“Will you be joining us in celebrating the Good Word of God?”

“No.”

“Have you found Jesus Mrs…?”

“You are going to have to try harder than that.”

“Beg pardon?”

“I'm Catholic. We don't believe in proselytizing. We believe in doing good works.”

“Ah. I see. Well, you're more than welcome to join the service this evening.”

She gave the earnest fool a long, steady look.

“I don't think anyone here will be joining you. It's a holy night.”

“Well, all the more reason to—”

She waved a dismissing hand at him.

“Save your speech. I know your type. You'll whip your congregation up into a frenzy and set them loose, foaming at the mouth to 'save us.' But we're not the ones that need saving. It's you. You've already upset the natural order of things. Do us all a favor and stay out of the old mission chapel tonight. It's a sacred place.”

“Beg pardon?” the revivalist said, frowning.

“In the old days, May first was a sacred night, a night to celebrate and to ward off the evil spirits. Walpurgisnacht; the night of the witch. You won't find that in your Bible young man, so don't bother looking. There's a reason those festivals are still held in holy places you know.”

“It's a heathen practice. It should be stopped. It's an abomination to God.”

“No.” She wagged a finger for him to lean closer so she could whisper. “You ever wonder why the Catholic saint relics, the ones made from the saint's own body, never decayed?”

“Because they were mummified.”

“Yes, but why are they all mummies?”

“Because of how their bodies were kept?”

“Wrong. It's because the body of the saint was used to hold an evil witch's spirit. It's the ultimate prison for a witch. Being stuck for all eternity in holy man's body. Can you imagine?”

The revivalist stared at her, then grinned.

“You're pulling my leg.”

“The May Day festivals are held every year to erase all the evil power that the witch's soul accumulated over the dark, cold, winter months. The fires and burning effigies sends enough holy power out to stop it. But, that is not going to happen this year, now is it?”

“Maybe you should come to the revival tonight. You really seem to need Jesus in your life. All this talk of idolatry and devil worship, it's worse than I thought. The Minister was right. This place is possessed by Satan.”

“No. Not this land, just the saint's body that is interred in the bottom of the old monastery.”

The man looked back at the building, the shadows cast by its uneven roof made it seem all the more sinister in the dying sunlight.

“I'll be sure to pray for you,” he said, a little too loud.

“You have your ways young man, we have ours. It would serve you best to respect that.”

“There some trouble here?” the minister said loudly, wiping the dirt off his hands and pant legs as he started heading their way.

“No. No trouble. I wish you luck on your Revival.”

“Why, thank you, Mrs—”

Mrs. Calvera abruptly turned and walked away.

They should have started the festival an hour ago.

Mrs. Calvera could feel the witch stirring. The old evil woman’s spirit was waking up, and she was furious at being held captive in such a holy place.

It was only a matter of time before night fell and the moonlight gave the witch enough strength to crawl out of the tomb and out into the dark, where the people had gathered to worship.

She crossed herself and hurried home. She locked the door, pulled the drapes, grabbed her chihuahua, and hid in the closet. She began praying fervently for forgiveness, even though she knew it was too late.

By sunrise, they'd all be dead.

“Welcome to God's Great Assembly! Tonight, we're going to sing praises to Jesus, all the way up to heaven!”

The tent revival had pulled in a small group, many of them people from the next town over. Most came for the ice cream social that was to take place after they held worship.

They applauded and one of the drunks near the back of the crowd was hollering and cheering them on.

Typical Yoopers.* Always in it for the food.
(*Yoopers are people that live in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, locally referred to as the U.P.)

The councilman stood in the back near the entrance to the old mission chapel, thumbing through the stack of hundreds the preacher man had given him.

Easy money. That old woman wouldn't stand a chance getting her May Day festival back after this turn out.

The revival was loud: they had speakers hooked up to an electric keyboard and a guitarist wailing away as they sang praises to a God that the councilman never believed in.

It was all superstitious nonsense.

Every last word of it.

He stood there, enjoying the feel of cash in his hands and, distracted by the loud revivalists singing off-key, he didn't notice the old wooden door shuddering.

The lock rusted and crumbled to dust.

Dried, desiccated, gnarled fingers pushed the door open.

The councilman laughed as someone spilled water on themselves. He didn't even see the mummified hand reach out and grab his throat, crushing his trachea in one clamping motion, like the death grip of an alligator's jaws.

The councilman fell to the ground gasping for air, thrashing about like a fish before he suffocated and died. The witch looked down at him through dead shriveled eyes.

She grabbed his soul as it started to float away and devoured it.

With a vile cackle, the mummy staggered out of the mission chapel and lurched towards the crowd, dragging a useless broken leg behind.

Screams echoed through the streets as the citizens fell one-by-one.

Before anyone even had a chance to call the police, they were dead.

All of them.

Their souls sucked right out of their bodies by the evil that lay in wait in the mummified saint's bones. With each kill, the witch grew stronger. With each kill, she drew closer to the Calvera residence, to the last remaining descendant of the French Missionary that forced her soul into the hideous desiccated body that burned her soul and kept her trapped within.

Mrs. Calvera cowered in her closet, trembling worse than her little chihuahua on a cold winter's night.

She heard the witch when she burst through the flimsy screen door and deteriorated the security door with a wave of a skeletal, leathery hand.

Her time was up.

The prophecy was being fulfilled. She was the last of their line, the remaining descendant of the priest that founded the town. With her death, the witch would have her 666th soul and be reborn.
Her chihuahua growled and quaked as the mummified remains shuffled towards the closet door.

“Mother Mary, please, forgive me. I tried. They wouldn't listen. Please, forgive me.”

The door hissed and sizzled, bubbled and popped, and finally fell to the floor in plops of paint and wet wood pulp.

Mrs. Calvera held her breath. She was staring at the mummy's feet, terrified but yet unable to stop herself from raising her gaze up, inch-by-inch, until she met the mummy's dried eyes. They looked like raisins that glowed with star points of silver hellfire. The image seared into her mind, the way the sun burns into the retinas if one stares at it too long.

She heard whispers of the hungry dead, the victims of the evil witch, as the mummy's hand reached out and clamped down on her neck.

With her dying breath, she understood why they had struggled for so long to keep it asleep. Inside that body of a saint, was the soul of pure, unadulterated evil, and it had won.

There was nothing anyone could do to stop it now that the witch was finally awake after so many long, cold centuries.

The fury of the witch was nothing that mortal man could handle, and with Mrs. Calvera's death, all knowledge about how the missionaries trapped her inside a holy man's corpse was destroyed.

The witch was finally free to roam the earth and do her Dark Master's bidding.

They say that during May Day, right after dusk, you can hear in the wind the cries of the dead that she killed; their souls doomed to wander the forests and rocky shores of Lake Superior until the end of time.


You can find my short horror story WALPURGISNACHT and other tales in WE ARE ALL MONSTERS.



Available to read for FREE on Kindle Unlimited! 

Saturday, April 15, 2017

Here's a Sneak Peek at Addicted to the Abyss Volume 2 Mallory's Thirst!

I've been super busy working on editing and expanding volume one of ADDICTED TO THE ABYSS- the start of which is on here as a 12-part serial story.

Since Jonah's story runs parallel to Mallory's, and Mal has a better sense of time and place because his brain isn't Swiss cheese, I've also been writing the first draft of volume two.

In essence, I've been multi-tasking. BIG TIME. (Sleep? Who needs sleep? HA!)

Here's a small peek at what I've been working on!



Addicted to the Abyss Volume 2 Mallory's Thirst Chapter 4

Jonah visited me last night.

I don’t know how he found me. It’s been over a year.

I moved to Montana, tried to get back to my career but…all I could think about was him. Worried. Not sleeping or eating well. I felt lost. Empty. But I knew I had to go. I couldn’t break my contract with my employers. They would be…consequences. I wasn’t mentally strong enough to deal with that yet.

They knew I was grieving. No one said it, but I could see it on their faces. They felt bad, an awkward sympathy towards an emotionally wrecked man. I could feel my life fray at the edges, slowly continuing to unravel, as though someone found the main thread holding me together and was yanking it, the very fabric of my being was pulling apart, stitch by stitch.

My underlings respected me, and I know that they covered for my mistakes constantly, but even with my screwing up the data entries, we were seeing positive results. My bosses were pleased. I was…barely satisfied.

I used stimulants to stay awake. I didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want to dream, to see him running just out of reach, covered in blood, screaming at me to let him die.

If I had known then, what I know now, I would’ve paid more attention to my nightmares. I would’ve slept more fully, would’ve kept a dream journal. Maybe then I…

It doesn’t matter.

Jonah.

Jonah is all that matters.

And he visited me last night.

I went home to clean up and sleep. I was so tired, I nodded off in the shower. Woke up before I smacked my head into the tiled wall. I shook my head, rubbed my face, felt how scruffy I was, and grimaced. Jonah was one of those guys that liked beards. I never cared for them, but I let myself go. I was in sore need of a haircut and a shave.

I got out, wrapped a towel around my waist and noticed just how skinny I had gotten. I’d lost too much weight. My ribs were showing. No doubt I was malnourished by this point.

Grief can do that to you.

I trimmed my hair, shaved off the beard, and cut myself shaving. Shaking hands and a new razor blade are a bad combination.

I barely recognized myself in the mirror. Sunken cheeks, black circles under my eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time I smiled. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t planning on dating and charming the pants off of anyone anytime soon. That is what caused all this mess to begin with.

I didn’t want to be with anyone ever again. I didn’t think that my heart could take it. No. No way I was going to date again. I had no appetite for hooking up with strange men for one night stands anymore. It was my fault. It was all my fault.

I finished off a bottle of whiskey and drunkenly collapsed on my bed, face down. I didn’t even bother crawling under the covers, or taking the towel off.

I didn’t care.

I left the bedroom window open. The cold breeze felt nice. It was winter, and I didn’t care if I got frostbite or froze to death. Maybe I wanted to die. I was having passive suicidal thoughts. And I didn’t care. Maybe that was why I didn’t wake up when the window was opened all the way from the outside. My apartment is on the third floor.

I just stayed there. Face down on my bed, waiting as the screen was ripped open and someone crawled inside.

They smelled rank, like rotting flesh and old blood.

My heart skipped a beat, I was excited.

This was it. The end.

I didn’t even have to do anything. I imagined that whatever killed Jonah had come to kill me, to end it all. It made me sad and happy to know that I would be with him soon. I could apologize. Beg him to forgive me for being so selfish, so full of myself. Maybe he’d even take me back.

The person who crawled through my window was filthy. I turned my head to look out of the corner of my eye. Light from the bathroom filtered down the hall into the bedroom,illuminating the figure. Dark dried blood spattered down a white torn shirt. It had soaked in the collar, spread in a circle from a bite on the neck. Filthy bare feet. Khaki shorts. A broken wristwatch.

I gave him that watch for a birthday present. I thought it was dumb, no one wore a watch anymore, everyone used their phone to tell the time. But, I got him one anyway. Something expensive- a leather band, diamonds on the face. Something he would love. And he did. That was a good night. The last date we went on before I started…

And then I messed everything up.

I could see his face. It was him.

Jonah came back to me.

I didn’t move. I didn’t want to startle him. I didn’t want him to run off. I wanted him to stay. So I lay there, heart pounding, skin crawling, every fiber of my being screaming at me to run as he stepped up to the bed.

He licked his lips, drool plopped on my bare legs. It was thick, slimy and cold. I shivered. Goosebumps raised on my arms, raced down my legs. He breath was erratic. He sounded excited.
He slowly crawled on the bed, ran freezing hands up my back.

I shivered, slowly turned over to face him.

My God. His eyes. The whites of his eyes were black, the irises were red and glowing. Bio-luminescence. I had read about that. Couldn’t believe it could occur in human eyes, but there it was.

“Jonah,” I whispered. “Where have you been?”

“I know your smell,” he said breathing in my hair. “I know this smell.”

“Who did this to you?” I asked, sorrow lumped in my throat.

He cocked his head to the side and smiled, showing off vicious fangs. There was no denying it now. He had changed. Turned into the very thing I was hired to study and killed— a vampire.

“SHE did it.” He rubbed his neck, a scar, a patch of flesh healed over to silver flesh, where the vamp tore a huge chunk out of his neck.

He chuckled eerily. It turned into a crazed laugh. “SHE did it!”

I backed away, fell off the side of the bed. He pounced on me. Ripped off my towel.

“Unwrap you like a snack,” he said and swallowed the drool that pooled in his mouth.

My stomach sank. I froze. Terrified.

He rubbed his face on my stomach, licked up my chest and neck. His tongue was freezing cold.

“I remember your eyes. Brown. So pretty. Want to pluck them out and eat them.” He ran a finger around my left eye.

I grimaced, pulled my head back. I was so sad, and so scared. I couldn’t help it, I started to cry.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What for? You’ll taste good.”

Shivering out of fear and anticipation of the pain, I froze. I did not push him off. Not sure if I’d be strong enough to do it even if I had tried. I had gone too long without eating or sleeping, not caring if I lived or died.

“Your fear. So yummy,” he said and licked my neck. Tongue like ice. I shuddered. I was afraid. I felt the urge to piss and barely held it in. “So squirmy. Mmmm…” he grabbed me by the shoulders, tossed me back onto the bed. He jumped on me, slid up my body, like he used to, when we were getting frisky and about to fuck.

He was cold. So very cold to the touch. He was undead now. My Jonah wasn’t alive. He was a monster.

“Stop,” I cried as he went to bite my neck.

“Hmmm? Why no fight? The others scream and kick you…don’t. Why?”

“Because, I’m your…”

“You’re mine?” He perked up. “Mine?”

“Yes. I’m yours, you’re mine. We were going to get married.”

“We were?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t remember that.”

“Jonah, it’s me. It’s Mal. Please try to remember.”

I leaned forward, mouth dry, heart pounding, shivering. Pressed my forehead against his. He was so dirty and covered in dried gritty blood, excrement and who knows what else.

“Please, remember me.”

He smiled, lunged forward and kissed me. His razor sharp incisors bit into my tongue. I thought he was going to bite it off, but he let go. I pulled back. He licked his lips and shuddered.

“You taste so good.”

Blood welled in my mouth. I felt sick to my stomach.

“Here, you taste me too,” he said. He bit his own tongue and kissed me. Thick, noxious cold sludge filled my mouth, burned in my nose. I choked as  he kept kissing me, shoving his tongue in deep, wrapping it around my own. I was disgusted, thrilled, and terrified, more scared than I had ever been in my life.

I struggled, and he held my nose, made me swallow his thick, blacker than death blood. It burned its way down to sear a pit in my stomach. It was so cold and yet it burned.

He pulled away. “There. Now you’ll always be mine. And I will always be yours.”

I lay there, shivering. In total shock. The burning was spreading quickly through my body. It hurt. I felt like I was dying.

“You wet the bed. Clean it up.”

I was laying in a pool of my own hot piss. He scared me so much, I peed myself. I grew lightheaded.
He said something but I didn’t quite understand it. I shook my head yes anyways. I think he wanted me to say yes. I wasn’t quite sure though.

He smiled, flashed his fangs at me, and then dashed out the window.

My heart pounded in my ears. My vision dimmed. My body weak, cold and naked.

I shivered, curled up into a ball on the bed, gasping in pain.

The last thing I remember thinking was that I was going into shock and I needed to get help.

Everything went black and red. Insects crawled in my ears and scuttled around in my head. Scratching, scratching, scratching.

Jonah’s voice echoed in my head,“You’ll always be mine. And I will always be yours.”

Everything burned, my body was on fire. It hurt so much, I passed out.

I sat up, screaming.

Daylight filtered into the room. I was laying on the bed, naked. Black blood dried up and flaked on my chest and chin. Disoriented, I panicked and ran to the bathroom and tried to throw up, but nothing came up. I had the dry heaves.

I stuck my toothbrush handle down my throat to induce vomiting. I had to do it several times before anything came up.

Black clotted gel plopped into the toilet. Vampire blood. I made myself puke until green bile came up. Then I rinsed out my mouth and washed off the dried blood. My tongue was sore, it had punctured holes on either side. The wounds hurt, bad. He damn near sliced my tongue off.

I rinsed my mouth out with hydrogen peroxide solution and examined my body thoroughly.
There were no other bite marks on me.

I closed the window, pulled the sheets off the bed. Cleaned the piss out of the mattress, did laundry.
All the while, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still there, watching me.

I searched the whole damn place. He wasn’t hiding anywhere. I…wasn’t sure what he meant when he said that I was his now. I was afraid to find out.

I drew some of my blood and examined it in the portable electron microscope—courtesy of my employers— there was no discernible change. Not yet at any rate.

I knew what markers to look for. It sometimes takes up to 72 hours for them to develop.

I called in to work, gave orders, said I was taking a few days off to rest, and I waited.

I had horrible dreams. Nightmares. Scenes of death and carnage, like war zones. People dying horribly. Body parts everywhere. Blood. So much blood.

I decided to keep looking for the markers in my red blood cells. He did something to me. I could feel it. A nagging, unsettled feeling of fear, a pit of ice in my stomach.

What did you do to me Jonah?

What did you do?