Serial Killer Known as the Vampire of Highway 55 Strikes Again!

If you like this, you'll love my vampire series, Addicted to the Abyss! 

You can read all 12 parts of Volume 1 for free, starting here: http://cassieshouseofhorror.blogspot.com/2016/09/addicted-to-abyss-vampire-serial-story.html

My New Horror Story Collection is Now Available on Kindle!

Lots of fun stuff going on right now in Casa de la Carnage!

I was interviewed on a local radio show called Motown Mojo Live last week. 

You can listen to the interview here:
https://soundcloud.com/user-244719454/motown-mojo-live-episode-77-lucid-furs-monique-given-cassie-carnage

I talk a little at the beginning, and then go into detail about my new horror story collection and my plans for my Addicted to the Abyss vampire series after the music break (in the middle). I also wax poetically about the horror of being swallowed alive by sinkholes. Good times. Good times. 💀❤

Also, I got my first book published by Bloody Whisper Books! It's available on Kindle.

You can get it here:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06WP551V9

This Week We Saw the Violent Shut Down of Free Speech. That is NOT Acceptable.

When in 1759, On the Mind was burnt by the public hangman in company with Voltaire’s poem On Natural Law, though he had soundly hated (and roundly abused) Helvétius’ masterpiece, he fought for its right to live, tooth and nail, uphill and down dale, on the essentially Voltairean principle:

“I wholly disapprove of what you say—and will defend to the death your right to say it.”

 http://quoteinvestigator.com/2015/06/01/defend-say/

Last time I checked, we still have Freedom of Speech in this country. That applies to EVERYONE. 

I don't agree with a lot of what people are saying right now, on all sides. Although I might not agree with what you have to say, I will defend your right to say it. If I think that you are wrong, I will debate you, but I will not personally attack your character or physically assault you. It's unethical, and shows how weak of character you truly are when you engage in such things. 

Let me be perfectly clear here,

If you cannot listen to all sides of an argument, think for yourself, or decide what is correct and what is not, YOU HAVE A PROBLEM.

Between the violent, toxic rhetoric of extremists, cult-like behavior of several "social justice" movements, and news stations that are purposefully using language that minimizes destructive behavior and is actively creating a false narrative to whip everyone one up into a frenzy.

Y'all are going fucking nuts out there.

STAHP IT!



Damn it Chicken Little, the sky is not falling.

It's not.

Seriously. It's not.

Take a deep breath.

Take another one.

One more.

Now,

REPEAT AFTER ME:

• Everything is going to be OK. We live in a safe world (well, unless you're in second or third world countries, then you're fucked. Sorry bruhs. Them's the facts.). 
• There is no US vs. THEM. There are only people that have different perspectives, education levels, and understandings of how the world works. If I disagree with them, I will use intelligent discourse and facts to support my case. I will not resort to name calling, swearing or bandwagon mentality when I cannot sway someone over to my point of view. 
• I am a cultured, intelligent human being that can make decisions for myself and not follow a crowd like a brainless cow.
• I will scrutinize all posts I read that claim things that "might" happen, or are talking about "leaked" information from politicians. They often lie to scare people and fuel the outrage machine.
• I will research things that don't sound right or sound outrageous (you know, causing rage), before sharing them and instantly becoming an angry, frothy mess.
• I will not personally attack people on social networks for presenting a point of view that is different from mine. 
• I will engage in civil conversation and ask such questions as  "Why do you think that?" "Why do you feel that way?" "What do you think is going to happen?" "What do you think is really going on right now?" "Do you have facts to back that up?" You know, like an intelligent human being?

Here's what they don't want you to know:

Everything going on in the world today is the same old shit that has happened for centuries. 

NOTHING has changed, except we now have instant access to breaking news, and a ton of big corporations spin them to a particular point of view to scare you enough to make you violent.

Is that a good thing? No.

Is that fair? Obviously not.

Can you actually say that it's perfectly all right to go out there and physically attack (and sometimes kill) people that think and say things that are different than your point of view? Can you really?

If your answer is yes, I highly suggest that you go seek counseling and/or check yourself into a psychiatric clinic, because obviously you have allowed your emotions to high jack your brain and you can no longer think straight. You are not sane. Get help.

Are your beliefs worth dying for? Are they really? 

Seriously, think about this.

Really think long and hard about this before you act.

You'll thank me for it later...unless you want to passive suicide by cop. Then by all means, go right ahead. I'm not going to stop you. You obviously don't cherish the precious life you have been granted. Go on. Do it.

What? You changed your mind? OK then.

Do you want to be attacked by a violent mob and killed, just for existing? Is it socially, morally, or legally acceptable to do that to others?

NO. It's not.

So cut that shit out.

What's going on is a forceful, violent act of censorship.

Censorship is dangerous- on all levels. Because once it starts, it's a slippery slope down to government controlled thought policing. 

Read about McCarthyism. Read about Stalin and the Gulag. All this talk about "educating ourselves" when we aren't "thinking correctly" and towing the SJW party line? It eerily echoes what happened in Russia. 

Don't like what someone is saying? There are peaceful ways to talk about it.

Setting things on fire, breaking windows, attacking people en mass is not how it is done.
That doesn't bring more people over to your cause. It drives them away in droves.

Please, please people, be careful out there.

It's getting violent, and ugly. And before all the crazies are rounded up and sent to jail (or worse...sent to the Gulag for life) it's probably going to get more dangerous.

Stay vigilant. Keep yourself safe. Don't follow the crowds.

Start polite discourse instead of shutting communications down. Shouting down your opponent, using bullying tactics to shut them up, only makes them more likely to NEVER listen to what you have to say.


Remember:

"Fear is a strong emotion and it can be manipulated to steer people into making emotional rather than reasoned choices." https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fear_mongering

Stop being manipulated. 

You're smarter than that.

Here's a Free Preview of Black Hearts and Bloodied Lips

The night was eerily quiet.

Dead leaves skittered across the pavement in a small gust of freezing air.

Maple trees lined the broken driveway; we were using them for cover as we waited for signs of activity.

The street lights were all busted out. Even if they were intact, they wouldn’t have been running. Electricity had been cut off to this suburb last year during reclamation efforts. No use sending power to an area completely infested with vampires.

The old mansion sat atop of a hill. It had been converted into a funeral home, and was used right up until the blood suckers took over.

There was something about it that was just, wrong.

The building was desolate and empty, yet something still stirred within its musty halls.

I felt as though we were being watched from its dirty windows. But by what, I couldn’t tell.

It was just creepy the way it stood at the top of the hill, a massive white hulk looming in the dark, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike, as though the house itself were alive.

If our Intel was correct, we were about to go and steal something very valuable from a rookery of vampires. If not…well, we just might find ourselves going up against something that two people couldn’t handle on their own. And if that was the case, we were screwed.

You can find Black Hearts and Bloodied Lips on Amazon!

Cancer’s Requiem: A Free Story from WE ARE ALL MONSTERS

CANCER'S REQUIEM is one of the stories that can be found in my collection WE ARE ALL MONSTERS. You can read it in it's entirety here. 

They lived in that place for years and it, like his life, just went up in flames.

He wanted to cry. But he just stood there with an odd little smile on his face, like the kid in elementary school who got caught shooting spitballs at the teacher.

It had squealed. That hideous creature. It screamed as it burned to ash.

His wife Maria had said it was cancer. But he knew better.

It wasn’t cancer that killed her.

It was that thing, that demon. Its foreboding presence lingered, hovering over them the whole ride back from their ill-fated trip.

It was supposed to be a vacation, a nice week long excursion to the city that ended in catastrophe.

It had started as a sore on her neck. An angry, red, swollen lump just below hairline.

“Don’t scratch it. You’ll make it worse.”

They went to all sorts of shops that day. Later, he’d revisit them in his mind, retreading the places where they were last, just as he always did when he had lost something important, trying to find where she had lost her life.

He re-walked the phantom streets in his mind, night after night lying next to her ever-fading frame, trying to find the exact moment when that damned thing bit her and devoured her from the inside out like an invisible lamprey eel.

They spent her last winter putting things in order. First the furniture. Then her clothes. Then the pots and pans, the books, the cluttered pile of things that was their life together.

He couldn’t sleep.

Not with that thing hovering over her.

Maria clung to her life until her strength ran out. Until that damned thing drained her dry.

Then, it was six weeks of pure hell, of morphine drips and dirty sheets and people telling him it's OK to grieve. But he couldn’t. She was his life. And now she was gone.

Family and friends came, a blur of faces and condolences. The funeral was over all too fast.

All that was left was John. He drank the next three days straight. The love of his life, his anchor, was gone.

Devoured. Chewed up and spat out.

Three nights to the hour after she passed, It came back, for him.

He had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the fireplace, his only companions a half bottle of gin and a knitted comforter.

He woke up, unaware of ever falling asleep.

The only light came from the fading embers in the fireplace. He saw Maria standing behind the couch, her reflection on the TV screen.

“Time for bed John.”

“Sure.”

He yawned and paused.

Her reflection wasn’t right.

She was never that tall and lanky, never that pale.

The floorboards behind him creaked and he whirled, dropping his bottle of gin on the floor.

They stood staring at one another like startled deer in headlights; him standing there, clutching Maria's knitted comforter to him like armor. It stood just feet away. Both of them waiting for the other to make the first move.

It stood on backward bending legs. It had hands with three hideous, rusted, hypodermic needle fingers. He could see its ribs and collar bone, even hip bones. A long neck craned up and back like a question mark. Bald head, milky albino pink eyes stared at him. It didn’t have a nose, just a pair of slits where it should be. Long spindly arms hung down to its feet. The needle fingers lightly scraping the wood floor as it waited for him to move.

John's heart pounded in his ears. His body felt like ice. He was right. All along. It wasn't cancer.

It was a demon.

The TV screeched to life and the picture burst into snow.

The sound made him jump.

Then it was gone, leaving no sign of its presence, as though it had never even been there.

He scratched the back of his neck, telling himself that it was just paranoia that made it itch. It had to be. The thing didn’t get close enough to touch him. It couldn’t have. He checked the back of his neck every morning after that, waiting for the red lump to rise up and signal his imminent death.

It came back three days later.

He was in the front room, tending the fire.

The back screen door whined as it opened and slammed shut.

The floorboards creaked behind him.

He tightened his grip on the heavy metal poker and spun around.

It was closer than he thought. He swung the poker and it batted it away. He tried to push past the thing but it was too fast. It grabbed him, slammed him down and pinned him to the floor.

Its needle fingers wrapped around his throat. The sharp pointed ends were about to push into the back of his neck when Maria rose up over them, wielding the fire poker like the sword of an avenging angel.

She skewered the damn thing through the head. The poker barely missed hitting him. He stared at her as she wrangled the beast away and shoved into the fireplace.

It squealed an unearthly scream as it started to burn.

“I missed you.”

“I never left,” she said and helped him up. She was cold to the touch. He could see through her, even though her hands were in his. “Hurry. You must go.”

“But-”

She ushered him to the front door.

“I love you. We’ll see each other again. I promise.”

He tried to take her with him but the minute he stepped foot outside the demon sprang out of the fireplace, sending a spray of red hot embers everywhere.

“Run!” she yelled.

He backed off the porch not once taking his eyes off them. His dead wife and her demon, cancer, fought once more in the living room. The very room she had died in.

The house went up in flames as the embers devoured everything around them.

The demon tried to run after him and she tackled it and held it down.

It writhed and screeched in her arms.

Maria looked up at him and smiled the ceiling collapsed, and they disappeared in a wall of flame.

He hand went up to his lips.

Maria had saved his life.

“We’ll be together soon. I promise.”

John smiled and walked away.

Cancer had killed her.

But their love, in return, had changed it to naught but ash.