Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts

Monday, November 3, 2014

The Walking Dead Recap, Episode 4: Slabtown + Halloween Pics

Below is my recap of this week's TWD episode. But first, I wanted to share some Halloween photos. I didn't do anything epic for Halloween--just went to my dad's and took my brothers and niece out trick-or-treating. I had to be up early to work the next day, so I wasn't interested in staying out all night or going to any late parties.

 I thought it would be appropriate for this post, though. Check out the photos and you'll understand why.



Me as a walker! Think I'm ready for my walk-on role on The Walking Dead? 

















My brother, Isaac, who is also my look-alike.
Yes, he went as Daryl Dixon.














My brother Abram (as himself) pretending to kill me.
That knife is real, btw, which kind of freaked me out.
Pretending to eat my niece, who is Elsa
from Frozen, btw.


















My brother Josh as a demon. It doesn't
register in the picture, but he put in contacts
that made his eyes black with a red outline
around the irises. Seriously creepy! His eyes
are really light blue.
My brother Micah, as Chelsea Grin (the band).























Okay, on to this week's amazing episode! 

Episode 4: Slabtown

I was SO excited for this episode. Couldn't wait to find out about Beth!
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Thursday, October 31, 2013

Thoughts for Thursday: Halloween

Happy Halloween Everyone! I know not everyone will see this due to today being the holiday, but how could I pass up the chance for some great Halloween quotes, especially since it fell on the actual day? So, here goes:
Thoughts for Thursday is a new feature hosted by Musings on Fantasia and LKHill.  In this meme, we share thoughts or quotes that we know or have recently come across. Each week there is a specific subject or theme. These can be quotes from books, quotes by famous people, (quotes by YOU, perhaps ;D). Anything from anywhere is game, though we do ask that you keep your quote to a few sentences at most. Don't quote, for example, entire passages of a book or essay. These can be funny quips, cool sayings, hair-raising antidotes, movie lines, any kind of quote you can think of!

Just have fun, collect awesome sayings by awesome people, and try to be inspired!

In honor of the coming holiday, this week's theme is Halloween! (For more quotes, check out my other blog.)

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Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Book Review: Dance of the Red Death by Bethany Griffin

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When I first started blogging in May of 2012, one of the first books I read and reviewed was Masque of the Red Death by Bethany Griffin. I really loved the book and was so excited when I saw that the sequel would be out this year. When I decided to participate in Readers Imbibing Peril VIII in honor of the Halloween season, I knew finally getting around to read Dance of the Red Death would be just the thing.

 Plot: The book picks up almost exactly after the end of Masque of the Red Death. It goes through the rebellion, and Araby trying to figure out her feelings for the two guys in her life, all while worrying about her mother, who is a captive in Prince Prospero's castle, and her father, who is missing. I thought the plot moved along nicely and I was never bored. 

 Characters: I'll admit to being a little annoyed with Araby in this book. More so than I was in the first one. She's a character who starts out weak and ends up strong by the end of this book, which I can totally get behind, but she wasn't always very upstanding about things. I don't want to give spoilers, but let's just say there is a time when she realizes who she ought to be with, and which guy she definitely doesn't want to be with, and then ends up making out with him for ten minutes after coming to that conclusion. Really? Come on Araby. That's just a douchy thing to do.

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Monday, October 7, 2013

Readers Imbibing Peril Update

So I just thought I'd do a quick update on my Halloween Reads. I'm participating in Readers Imbibing Peril VIII. So much fun! For more info, click the link.

 To see my opening post and read my goals for this year, click here.

 I've already read one Halloween-related book: Girl of Nightmares by Kendare Blake. I'll be reviewing it later this week.

 I'm also reading a book of Selected Works by Edgar Allen Poe. I'm supposed to read two short stories and one poem per day in order to finish it by the end of the month. Already I'm a little behind, but I hope to catch up this week.
Source
So far, I've read:

 Short Stories:
  • MS in a Bottle
  • Berenice
  • Morella
  • Some Passages in the Life of a Lion
  • The Unparalleled Adventures of One Han Pfaall
  • The Assignation (The Visionary)
  • Bon-Bon
  • Shadow: A Parable
Poems:
  • The Raven
  • The Bells
  • Annabel Lee
  • Lennore
So far, I think Berenice creeped me out the most, though MS in a Bottle had the best imagery. And his poems are just plain intriguing. You could mull over them for hours, though I generally don't have the time to do that. :(

This week, I'll be reading Bethany Griffin's Dance of the Red Death (inspired by E.A.Poe, incidentally) as well as trying to catch up on my short stories. 

What Halloween reads will you shiver through this month?

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Monday, September 2, 2013

R.eaders I.mbibing P.eril VIII


It may only be September, but Halloween is coming at us fast. All my local stores are already carrying oodles of Halloween candy. I love this time of year, and I've decided to participate in R.I.P. (Readers Imbibing Peril) this season. I came upon it too late to participate last year, and this is only the second fall season I've been blogging. So...this is my year!

 Visit this Stainless Steel Droppings post for full details, but the gist is this (Excerpts from Stainless Steel Droppings):

 R.I.P. goes from September 1-October 31, so you can join anytime!
Mystery.
Suspense.
Thriller.
Dark Fantasy.
Gothic.
Horror.
Supernatural.
Or anything sufficiently moody that shares a kinship with the above. That is what embodies the stories, written and visual, that we celebrate with the R.eaders I.mbibing P.eril event.
Two simple rules:
1. Have fun reading (and watching).
2. Share that fun with others.
Categories:
Peril the First: Read four books, any length, that you feel fit (the very broad definitions) of R.I.P. literature. It could be King or Conan Doyle, Penny or Poe, Chandler or Collins, Lovecraft or Leroux…or anyone in between.
Peril the Second: Read two books of any length that you believe fit within the R.I.P. categories.
Peril the Third: We all want you to participate. This Peril involves imbibing just one R.I.P.ping read.
Peril of the Short Story: I am a big fan of short stories and my desire for them is perhaps no greater than in Autumn. I see Poe and Lovecraft in my future for sure, and some Angela Carter. You can read short stories any time during the challenge. When I can, I like to read short stories over the weekend and post about them around that time. Feel free to do this however you want, but if you review short stories on your site (not a requirement) please link to those reviews on the Review Site.
Peril on the Screen: This is for those of us that like to watch suitably scary, eerie, mysterious gothic fare during this time of year. It may be something on the small screen or large. It might be a television show, like Dark Shadows or Midsomer Murders, or your favorite film. If you are so inclined, please post links to any R.I.P.-related viewing you do on to the Review Site as well.
Peril of the Group Read: This Peril was added a few years back and brought a really fun, interactive dimension toR.eaders I.mbibing P.eril. Last year fellow bloggers hosted one of our group reads and I am THRILLED that they are back to do so again this year. Andi and Heather, through The Estella Society, are hosting a read-a-long of Elizabeth Kostava’s debut novel, The Historian. I am especially thrilled because I’ve promised myself every year I would read this and have not done so. I’m appreciating the push to do so now.
My Goals:
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1) I have a Complete Collection Selected Works of Edgar Allen Poe stories I want to read. It has 67 short stories and 31 poems. So, two stories + one poem per day and I should get through it in about a month.
I also want to read Girl of Nightmares by Kendare Blake and Dance of the Red Death by Bethany Griffin, both sequels to books I read around this time last year.
I'd also like to re-read Bram Stoker's Dracula and I haven't read Heart of Darkness yet this year.
That's a lot of reading, especially considering I'll probably do it all in October, but it's what I'm going to shoot for. I always watch at least one or two horror films around Halloween as well, so I'll probably manage the Peril on the Screen. 
Both September and October are going to be busy months, so I'll just have to see how it goes.
Is anyone else participating in R.I.P. this year?

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Monday, November 12, 2012

Blog Tour Soon and Free Short Story with Thanks! :D

Happy Monday, Everyone! For anyone who missed it, something exciting happened on Friday evening. I was bundling my niece up to go over to my dad's house for dinner (we had a storm over the weekend:


) when a thud sounded outside followed by a knock. Curious, I opened my apartment door and found:


boxes from my publisher, Tate Publishing, Inc.! Yea! My books had arrived!


So I opened one, took a picture to bombard all the contacts in my phone with, then had to run out the door. (I was late and the main dish was already getting cold in the back seat.)

So, my first batch of books is here. Persistence of Vision is officially on it's way! I already have a launch party at work planned, and I'll be selling them at the South Towne Expo Center (Utah) in December. 

So, I wanted to share my excitement and let everyone know that I'll be planning a blog tour soon. If you'd like to participate or do a review, feel free to contact me at lkhillbooks@gmail.com. I'll be sending out formal invites/requests by email in a couple of weeks but if anyone wants to get a jump on things...Just sayin.' :D

creativefrighting.jollyfishpress.com
The second thing I wanted to do today is courtesy of my other publisher, Jolly Fish Press. My publicist suggested that, now that Creative Frighting is over, we put our stories on our blogs. I realized I never mentioned the results or thanked the voters. So, this is me giving a belated thanks to all those that participated.

For those who don't know, Creative Frighting was a short Halloween story competition put on by Jolly Fish Press. They had each of their authors write a short story and then promote the contest. Readers read them and voted for their favorite, in exchange for a chance to win an Amazon giftcard.

I didn't win, but that's okay. Teri Harman's awesome story, The Wheel of Wasted Souls took first place, and deservedly so. Though they wouldn't tell us who got the next most votes and so on, they told us that everyone got a lot, so thanks to all who voted, especially for me. :D

If you didn't get around to reading my story, here it is. Enjoy! And Happy Monday! :D

Wormwood Manor


 I enter the kitchen on silent feet. Everyone else is already there. Betsy sits at the table, sniffling, while Mrs. Bramson rubs her shoulder in a comforting fashion.
Across from Betsy sits the groundskeeper, Mr. Tate, and his son Peter. On Betsy's other side is Jane, who is about Betsy's same age. The housekeeper, the two grounds men, the two young maids, and I are the only ones who've stayed on for the winter this year.
"Dear girl," Mrs. Bramson addresses Betsy, "you mustn't believe such things."
"What is happening here?" I intone quietly.
Betsy doesn't raise her eyes. "I took a fright is all, Mr. Ellison."

"From…gossip I heard in town.""From what?"
I try not to sneer. "Gossip gave you a fright?"
"It were the nature of the gossip, sir."
"And of what nature was it?"
Mrs. Bramson answers. "People in town say the servants of Pembroke Manor have disappeared."
I frown. "Disappeared? Where could they have gone?"
"No one knows," Betsy murmurs. "The postman tried to deliver a letter, but the house was dark. He knew something was wrong, so he went for help. The house is empty and the cellar is locked."
"Locked?" I cough.
Betsy nods. "No one can find the key to get in."
"Perhaps the servants are in there," I suggest.
Betsy shakes her head. "The postman knocked on the cellar door and called out. No one answered. There weren't nothing in the house that would saw through the door. It's thick wood like ours, see. They plan to wait until tomorrow to break through it." Betsy studies her hands again. "Everyone in town thinks the servants are dead."
"Rubbish!" They all jump and I moderate my voice. "Foolish girl," I say quietly. "Such stories are the product of idle hands. There must be some explanation."
"Mr. Ellison is right," Mrs. Bramson sets bowls of steaming stew on the table.
"Dark stories always circulate during the winter months, Betsy. You mustn't take them to heart."
As we eat, I tell everyone about an open window I found on the second floor, and instruct Peter and Jane to make a sweep of the house before dark.
"Yes, Mr. Ellison," they say in unison.
"Speaking of the cellar," Mr. Tate says, "have you the key to the wine cellar, Mr. Ellison?"
"I have not," I reply. "Why would I?"
Mr. Tate shrugs. "Just thought I would ask. It's gone missing, sir."
"Missing?" I look around at everyone. Mrs. Bramson stares back at me thoughtfully, but the three younger servants keep their eyes down. I look back at Mr. Tate. "Who was last in possession of it?"
"I was, I believe," he answers. "I remember leaving it on the peg by the door, but it's not there, and no one else has used it. I must have misplaced it. My apologies, sir. I'll find it again."
After dinner I go to the east wing to finish some dusting. After a while, I hear a noise in the outer room. Someone's walking around out there, but they don't announce themselves.
I head for the door, but before I reach it, a dark silhouette glides by, and I stop. I can't tell who it was. Going to the door, I hold up my candle, but see nothing.
"Hello?"
Mrs. Bramson's soft voice comes to me from the opposite direction. A moment later, she appears. "Mr. Ellison? Were you calling me?"
"Who else is with you, Mrs. Bramson? Where is everyone?"
"No one is with me, Mr. Ellison. I've come to fetch you."
"Someone else was just here."
"That's impossible, sir. We're the only two in this wing."
I swivel my head toward her. "How can you be sure?"
"Because everyone else is with Betsy."
Fighting off a sense of foreboding, I follow Mrs. Bramson through the corridors. When we arrive at Betsy's room, everyone is indeed there. Jane sits on the bed, holding Betsy's hand, while Mr. Tate and Peter peer in with creased brows from the doorway.
Betsy lies in bed. Rivulets of sweat slide down her face, but she shivers violently under the covers. I feel her forehead and find it hotter than the flame of my candle.
"Shall I fetch the doctor, Mr. Ellison?" Peter asks, voice tinged with anxiety.
"I hate to send you out on such a dark night, Peter."
"Mr. Ellison."
I turn at Mrs. Bramson's stern tone.
"The doctor must be got."
I look down at Betsy and know she's right.
"Very well. Can you make it on your own, Peter?"
"I'm sure I can, Mr. Ellison. I'll be gone and back in an hour. Two at most." He puts on his winter coat and thick books, and his father and I see him to the door.
We move Betsy into one of the family's guest rooms so she can be near a fire. Jane and Mrs. Bramson bring hot water from the kitchen, massage Betsy's feet to warm her, wipe the sweat from her brow, and pile blankets on top of her. Mr. Tate stokes the fire and asks the women if they need him to fetch anything.
I take up a vigil by the window, pulling the sheet off a high-backed chair so I can perch there. After a time, I realize it's been a long while since I've seen my groundskeeper.
"Where is Mr. Tate?"
Mrs. Bramson glances around. "He was here a moment ago."
When he still hasn't returned ten minutes later, I go to look for him. I explore each wing of the house, walking down the corridors with my candle and calling out his name, but get no response.
I finally end up at the top of the main staircase. As I begin my descent, I stick my hand into my pocket and feel something metallic. But I am not in the habit of keeping objects in my pockets. I wonder what it is, but before I can pull it out, I look up and freeze.
The heavy, mahogany front door stands wide open.
I hurry the rest of the way down, my foreboding deepening. Even if Mr. Tate went out to meet someone, he would use the servant's entrance. When Peter returned with the doctor, he too would use that entrance, not only because it was the servant's entrance but because it is closer to Betsy's room.
I shut and lock the door. I've searched the entire house, so I head back to Betsy's room. Both women are disturbed that I haven't located Mr. Tate.
Minutes pass in silence, except for Betsy's ragged breathing. Then Jane speaks.
"Mr. Ellison, perhaps Mr. Tate went down to the wine cellar."
I arch an eyebrow. "Why would he go there?"
Jane looks uncomfortable. "He never did find the key, but just before Betsy got sick, he said something about knowing where to look for it."
It made sense, I supposed. But why wouldn't Mr. Tate come tell me? He had no reason to go down there and the key to the door is missing anyway.
"I'll go see if he's down there."
"Oh, please, Mr. Ellison," Jane hops to her feet, "let me go. I have to get more water from the kitchen anyway. I'll do a loop and see if he's there."
"Very well."
Minutes pass and Jane doesn't return. Mrs. Bramson glances repeatedly toward the door, but I don't allow myself to worry. Jane will return soon. And probably with Mr. Tate.
When Jane has been gone for more than twenty minutes, Mrs. Bramson gets to her feet. "Perhaps she needs help," she says.
A feminine shriek rings out from some part of the house I can't identify. I leap to my feet as all the color drains from Mrs. Bramson's face. Picking up my candle, I hurry out of the room. She follows me. At the end of the hall, I stop and turn to her. "Stay here, Mrs. Bramson."
Her lips press into a thin line, but she turns back to Betsy's room and I move toward the wine cellar.
I shine my candle down every intersecting hallway I come to, and even open a few doors, but the house is ghostly silent.
Finally I make my way down the stairs to the cellar. They are narrow so I have to take them slowly. I see only what the light field of my candle reveals. Everything else is blackness.
The cellar door comes into view. There's no sign of Mr. Tate or Jane. Not sure what else to do, I try the cellar door. As anticipated, it's locked.
"Mr. Tate? Jane?" I expect my voice to echo in the dank passage, but it doesn't. It sounds hollow, muted somehow.
Then I see it.
The barest movement from under the cellar door. I freeze, and stoop down to peer at the bottom of it. When my nose is inches from the threshold, I see it again: light and movement.
I gasp, but I don't understand. If Mr. Tate and Jane are in there, how did they get in? Why don't they call out? Did Mr. Tate find the key?
I bang on the door. "Mr. Tate? Jane? Are you in there?"
At first there is only silence. Then I fancy I can hear a soft hissing sound. I straighten and back away from the door, watching the light at the bottom. Suddenly I know without a doubt that it's not Jane or Mr. Tate in there. It's something else.
The shadow moves again—something walking back and forth behind the door. Panic spreads through my being. I turn on my heel and flee, feeling every instant as though something is coming up the stairs after me. I run faster than I have in years, across the kitchen, through the dark corridors, past windows encrusted with snow.
I skid into Betsy's room. She still lies on the bed. Her breathing has become so ragged it sounds painful. There is no one else in the room.
"Mrs. Bramson?"
No answer.
I look around frantically, but where could she have gone? She had all the blankets and medicine in this room. The fire is burning brightly. She's set up a swing-arm and a suspended kettle of water is boiling merrily.
I retrace my steps with the candle all the way to the kitchen, but find nothing.
Something catches my eye: a small dark puddle on the table. I cross the room and dip my finger in the substance. In the light of my candle, it has a deep red hue. I raise it to my nostrils. It has a metallic scent.
A soft creak brings my head around. The door to the cellar is ajar and creaking on its hinges. Had I left that open? I might have in my haste to get back to Betsy's room.
Thud.
The noise comes from the stairway.
Thud, thud, thud, thud. The sounds descend the stairs, as though something is being dragged. I should throw the door open. But I can't. I stand gazing at the cellar door while my arms hang limp with fear.
A feminine voice shrieks from the cellar, and I would swear on my late wife's grave that it came from behind that cellar door. Dropping my candle, I run.
I slam the door to Betsy's room and lock it.
Hunkering down beside Betsy's bed, I tremble. I sit for what must be two hours. Where was Peter with the doctor?
I turn to find Betsy's eyes fastened on the wall above my head. They're fixed and glazed. I reach up, press the girl's eyelids shut, and pull the sheet over her face. I feel the metallic object in my pocket again, resting coldly against my hip. I wonder what it is, but I don't care enough to look.
I'm not tired, but suddenly I awaken and realize I've been dozing. Something is not right. My heart pounds. I feel as though someone is in the room with me. I turn my head slowly to the right…and cry out, vaulting from my chair and stumbling away until my back comes up against the icy window pane.
Betsy is staring at me.
Her chest does not move. She makes no noise, no motion. Her vacant eyes gaze at me in a silent growl of rage. Blood seems to have congealed behind the whites, and she looks like a demon.
I cannot stay in this room. I turn my back to Demon Betsy and survey the yard below. The largest wolf I've ever seen drags something—prey of some kind—leaving blood-filled grooves in its wake.
It lays its prey down below the window, as if for me to inspect. When it moves away, I gaze down upon something. I suppose I've known for some time now that Peter never got out; that he never made it to the doctor; that no one is coming.
I turn my back on Peter's corpse, and head for the cellar.
I walk calmly through the house, and descend the cellar stairs with relative swiftness this time. I pause outside the door, wondering how I'll get in. I haven't thought about Betsy's story about Pembroke Manor, the missing servants and the locked door since dinner, but I think of them now, wondering what it all means.
A light glows brightly from under the cellar door. It looks like flames, and I remember there's an old coal stove in the wine cellar. It hasn't been used in years.
Then I remember the metallic object in my pocket. I reach in and pull out the key. I marvel at it, wondering how it got there. It never leaves the peg beside the door, and I haven't been down here for a year. Shaking my head, I put the key in the lock, turn it, and push the door inward.
I gasp and recoil. The room looks like rot. It smells like betrayal. It sounds like loneliness. My eyes fall on the bodies. They're everywhere, in pieces. Blood spatters the walls and lifeless eyes stare at me from everywhere.
Something stands in front of the furnace. It looks like a man, though something tells me this creature is not human. It shovels something into the stove: coal shaped like human limbs. He turns his head to look at me.
Two miniature coal stoves blaze where his eyes should be. His mouth cracks open in a toothy smile. Between the two rows of blazing white, pointed teeth, there is an oblivion of darkness waiting to swallow all that passes into it.
I cower against the wall as the creature stands over me. Its breathing is ragged, just like Betsy's was before she died. He reaches out. The instant his fingers touch my throat, I scream. The last thing I'm aware of is a ripping sound, like fabric being torn. As I slip into oblivion, I'm uncertain whether the creature is shredding my body or my soul.
What did you think of it?
And if you haven't yet, be sure to check out my dystopian giveaway!
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Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Happy Halloween! RMQ and Cover Reveal!

blackliberal.wordpress.com
Happy Halloween, Everyone! If you aren't reading my blog until the day or a few days after, I don't blame you one bit! I wrote my blogs beforehand and probably won't be on the blogosphere much today either. I hope everyone's out having a great All Hallows' Eve!

For today's post, I'm guest-posting over at Booklover's Hideaway for the Halloween Spooktacular event. If you could just hop over there and leave your comments, I'd really appreciate it! (But make sure and check out the RMQ and Cover Reveal below! :D) The Halloween Spooktacular has been a fun, month-long series of fun Halloween posts, so if you haven't seen any of them, check more than just mine out!

Be safe and have an unforgettable Halloween! 2012, Baby! :D

Random Movie Quotes (RMQ) -- Halloween Edition

Don't know what this is? Click here.

imdb.com



Yesterday's RMQ was: "Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!" This humorous quotes was said by John Cleese playing A Taunting French Guard (one of many roles he played in the film) in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Classic comedy. This one was guessed by Alex Cavanaugh. Wait to go, Alex! Three points to you! :D






Today's RMQ is:
"You can feel it. That cold ain't the weather. That's death approaching. Who do you think they're gonna take first? The girl, who thinks a gun will help her? The kid, sheriff's kid? Or the old gal?"

Hint: This is a Halloween/horror movie. One point for actor, one for character, one for film. Good luck! If you know what it is, offer a guess in the comments and then maybe go watch it! :D

Cover Reveal!





To Love or Die in a Steamy-Reamy World 

by Emily White


10 Tales of Steampunk Silliness and Spookery.

In the cozy seaside village of Steamville, New Hampshire, an unfaithful zombie, out of control werebots, succubi in corsets, and more wreak havoc in this short story collection. 

Publication Date: December 22, 2012 on all major online retailers ($.99 for ebook/$2.99 for print)


Looks awesome, right? What do you think?
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