Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Tagged! I'm it!

So I was tagged by my friend, the very talented Alyn Day (@z0mbiegrl on twitter- check out her blog here) so now I have to get into this "The Next Big Thing"...thing.  Right now I'm working on a couple of projects.  I'm rewriting my original novel, Cycle of the Hunter.  I'm making it better, getting into more detail than I did with the first one.  Also I am working on the second installment of my short story compilations, Monsters in the Closet.  Volume one can be purchased for Kindle here and the paperback here.  I do have an excerpt that I would like to share however.

There were three of them in the house that night, all dressed in black and wearing ski masks...  Their orders were simple: slaughter everyone in the house.  Make sure they die, nothing less would be acceptable.  There were two men who were under the command of the third.  The first two men were Rudy Davenport and Terrell Jackson – low-level thugs who occasionally dabbled in drug sales.  The third man was referred to simply as ‘Boss’; they were not to know his real name.  All things considered, they preferred it that way.  Considering what they were planning to do, they wanted to know as little as possible about the people who hired them and the man they were now reporting to.  They had been paid ten thousand dollars cash, and as a result they were not inclined to ask questions.
            Rudy and Terrell followed the Boss into the bedroom on the first floor where they found a sleeping couple.  Rudy was unnerved by the Boss.  He didn’t seem to make a single sound as they moved through the house.  Floorboards didn’t creak under his feet and papers did not rustle as he passed by them.  It was like he was a ghost.  He also didn’t carry a gun.  He had a long silver dagger instead of the Glock complete with laser sight and silencer that Rudy himself carried.  He had a feeling that the Boss liked being up close and personal with his prey, liked the connection you could only get with a knife.  It was surpassed only by the feeling you got with bare hands.
            And teeth.
            They went over to the sleeping couple on the bed.  The Boss had a wide smile across his lips and his teeth shone in the limited light of the bedroom.  He walked over to the side of the bed where the man was gently snoring and looped his rope around the man’s wrists and tied him to the bedpost.  Then he handcuffed the man’s ankles around the post at the foot of the bed. 
            “Hey, asshole, wake up,” he whispered and lightly slapped the man’s face.
            “Huh?  Wuzzat?” he said.  Then he tried to move.  His eyes opened wide when he couldn’t move and he struggled against his bonds.  “What the fuck is going on?” he screamed.
            “Mark?” The woman was awake.  Rudy and Terrell grabbed her.  She struggled but the two men were powerful and she had no chance of getting away.
            “You may not know why we’re here, but that doesn’t matter anyway.  The only thing that matters is you’re both going to die.  Normally we would have to be quiet and hurry up, but unfortunately for you we have plenty of time.  I haven’t decided who will be first.  I have a few ideas.  I’ve thought about cutting your eyes from your head so you have to listen to your wife scream and you have to imagine what we’re doing to her.  But then you wouldn’t be able to watch her die, so you can see the difficult position I’m in.”
            “Why are you doing this?  Please, just take whatever you want.  We haven’t seen your faces!”  Mark said.  The woman was blubbering.
            “We’re not here for your stuff, Mark.  We’re here for the sole purpose of killing you and your wife and then when we’re done we’ll go upstairs, get your son and give him a choice.  He can either join mommy and daddy in Heaven, or he can join us and fulfill his destiny the way he ought to.”
            “What are you talking about?”
            “I told you it doesn’t matter why we’re here.  All that matters is that this is going to happen.  And there is nothing you can do about it.  You’re going to die.  Your wife will die.  And your son…well that’s up to him,” the Boss said with a smile.
            The Boss took off his coat and revealed his muscular arms.  He was wearing gloves and holding his knife.  He walked over to the woman and grabbed her by the hair.  He told Rudy and Terrell to move so he could enjoy himself.  He sliced her nightgown off and pulled her over in front of Mark.  He slid the knife gently against her body.  He started at her right hip and began drawing a thin line of blood with the incredibly sharp knife.  He cut across her stomach and up her sternum between her breasts.  She was begging and pleading and felt her bladder let go and hot urine flowed down her legs and made a puddle on the floor.  The Boss was disgusted.  He jammed the knife into her windpipe and she started coughing.  He yanked the knife sideways, tearing the flesh of her throat.  He was scarcely able to contain himself as her arterial spray covered her husband.  Mark screamed, tears running down his face.  The Boss let go of the woman and let her drop to the floor where she coughed and wheezed as her life flowed onto the carpet around her.
            The Boss stuck the knife into Mark’s stomach.  He screamed even louder as the Boss pulled the blade towards himself.   A hole like a grotesque mouth opened up in his side, Boss used the flat side of the blade next, spilling Mark’s entrails onto the floor on top of his wife.  Mark’s screams rapidly faded and became less intense as he slowly died.  The Boss turned to Rudy and Terrell, who were shocked into silence.  They were just looking at the two dead people and the Boss, who was covered in their blood and guts.  The Boss had a huge grin on his face. 
            “What the fuck?” Terrell whispered.  The Boss’ grin faded.  There was a hint of movement that Rudy detected and the next thing he knew Terrell had the hilt of the knife protruding from his chest.  Terrell looked at it, as if to say ‘Who put this here?’ turned to look at Rudy and then slowly slumped to the floor.
            “Looks like old Terrell didn’t quite have the stomach for this job.  Well he shouldn’t have taken it,” the Boss said as he shook his head.  “But not you, right Rudy?”
            “N-no Boss.  I can handle it.”
            “Excellent!” the Boss said, his happy grin returning.  “Then by all means help yourself to Terrell’s share.  You’ll find it in his jacket pocket.”
            Rudy had no problem rifling through the dead man’s jacket to find the stack of cash.  While he was busy the Boss looked over and saw the kid standing in the doorway.  He had what looked like a slingshot in his hand.  The cup was drawn back and pointed at the Boss.  At first he thought Oh how cute! but there was something in the kid’s eyes.  Something that wiped the grin off the Boss’ face.  Rudy looked up and saw the Boss standing still. 
            “What’s the matter, Boss?  Isn’t that the kid you wanted?  Want me to grab him?”
            “Shut up!” he hissed.  Something wasn’t right.  The kid was supposed to be docile, weak.  The kid standing in the doorway was neither.  The Boss changed tactics.  “Why don’t you put that down before someone gets hurt, huh kid?”   
            The kid responded by pulling the cup back a little further.  He had a look of focused fury and rage in his blazing blue eyes.  He looked straight into the Boss’ eyes.  He refused to look at his parents’ mangled corpses.  The Boss opened his mouth to say something and took a step forward at the same time.  The kid let go of the cup and a fraction of a second after the Boss heard the twangg! sound of the elastic he felt a burning pain across his face.  He put his hand to his face and howled in anger.  Whatever the kid had shot at him had not only torn through his ski mask but it ripped his face open from the left corner of his mouth to his hairline.  His eye was obliterated and the shredded flap of his cheek hung grotesquely against his neck.  The Boss dropped to his knees in agony and intense hatred filled his mind.  He wanted nothing more than to tear the kid apart with his bare hands.
            Rudy was saying something but it sounded like he was at the top of a deep well calling down to the Boss.  No one had ever hurt him like that before.  He looked at Rudy, who was pointing wildly in the direction of where the kid was standing.  Fearing, for the first time in his life that he would be attacked and hurt again, he raised up his right hand (the one not pressed against the wound that was pouring even more blood onto the floor, adding to Mark’s and his wife’s)  and braced for more pain.  It didn’t come.  He opened his eyes. 
            The child was gone.

Thursday, November 1, 2012


So i just started a Smashwords account.  I guess that means I should get going as far as getting some goddam writing done.  I've been stagnating.  Of course, I haven't had time to even write anything here, and this really just requires me to spew/vent.  So what's been going on?  Well I have just been named Godfather to my friends' first born.  That's right - someone trusts ME enough to take care of their child in case the unthinkable should happen.  Guess I'm not all that bad, eh everyone that said I wouldn't amount to anything?

We had a hurricane and luckily for us it wasn't so bad.  We did lose power for a few hours, but nothing too terrible happened as a result.  None of our food spoiled and we were not forced to resort to cannibalism.  At least for the time being.

I just want to direct anyone who reads this to check out not only the folks who follow my blog but to check out the highly skilled OM Grey.  Her blog is here so do yourself a favor and go check it out.  She's incredibly talented and can wield words the way a surgeon wields a scalpel - with great skill and extreme precision.  Do it now!  And while you're at it, follow her on Twitter because she's full of the insight, poignancy and humor you would expect in such an awesome wordsmith.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012


So I've been working on my re-imagining of Cycle of the Hunter, and I'm hoping to have it out by the end of the year, but I've been running into issues.  Like the other day for instance.  I'm writing, chilling with Miss von Nitemare and all of a sudden my cursor starts backtracking through my entire book!  It was like I was holding the back arrow, but I wasn't.  Not so awesome.  By the time I was able to stop the goddam thing, Word had shut down and I was forced to restart my laptop.  Aaaaaaand....everything I had written was in the black abyss of nothingness.  Gone.  I still had what I had saved up to that point (which is awesome because I have lost everything before) but I was really on a roll and was getting quality work done.  Pissed me off.
Please pick up a copy of Monsters in the Closet HERE
I am trying to save up for a wedding here!  It's 360 days away!

Monday, May 14, 2012

I am finally back on here after an extended absence.  I was shocked and dismayed to read the blog of fellow horror writer Alyn Day. You can check it out here but I can give you the gist of it.  Someone published her work under false pretenses.  They hacked, mangled and butchered her story until it was unrecognizable.  Obviously, she was enraged, which was totally understandable.    I don't blame her.  I would be too.  Please read her blog and do what you can to help spread the word!

Friday, March 2, 2012

Monsters in the Closet

The day has finally arrived!  Monsters in the Closet is finally out on Amazon Kindle and can be found HERE so what are you waiting for?  Read the book!  Here's what people are saying about it:

“Patrick Rahall’s style is masterfully chilling.  Prepare for a doors locked and lights on all night experience.”- Thomas Amo, author of An Apple for Zoe

“If you’re a horror fan, you won’t read anything better.  Patrick Rahall is an amazing writer, terror drips from every syllable…get ready to be scared.  Everything he writes is a sheer terrible treat.:- Christian Jensen, author of tons of stuff.

"The stories in this stunning horror collection run the gamut, from grisly to amusing to poignant. And they obey Edgar Allan Poe's short story law of being brief enough to be read in a single sitting. Patrick Rahall shows that less is more, and the short lengths are a plus for today's busy readers. In addition, the author's voice is fresh and real, and his style is perfect for the horror genre--lean and punchy. And terrifying! Highly recommended."- Amazon Review

At last check I was ranked 19,750 in sales on Kindle, which is awesome!  Tell your friends, tell your family, shout out the window at strangers as they walk by your room!

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Monsters in the Closet

Finally, finally, FINALLY almost done with Monsters in the Closet, which will be available exclusively on Amazon Kindle shortly.  It's my first collaborative project with Justin Graves and Ashes von Nitemare (@Justin_Graves_ and @MissvonNitemare on Twitter - follow them if you don't already!) and we are very excited for it!  It includes a few of the short flash stories I've posted on here and on other blogs.  I'm hoping to get some positive feedback on it and I'm really excited for its release.  It will be available for only 99 cents, so please help me out and pick up a copy and tell your friends!

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Latest in a Line...

So here is another flash story.  I am trying to put a bunch together for an anthology that I am writing with Justin Graves.  Here's one that I think you'll like.  It's called Home Early, about what happens when a cheating wife's husband comes home from work unexpectedly during a zombie outbreak.

Home Early
Allison was horrified to hear the front door open.  She had no idea what had been happening as she was far too busy with the pool cleaner to have her television turned on to the news reports of the carnage and mayhem that were rampant on every channel.  She was more concerned that her husband was home early.  She was half right. 
            As she and Gregorio scrambled to put their clothes on her husband Jeff made his way up the stairs toward the bedroom.  Allison was getting nervous; her and Jeff’s bedroom was at the top of the stairs so there was no way for Gregorio to sneak out of the house unless he attempted to go out the window.  They were debating the merits of this versus Gregorio hiding in a closet or under the bed when the bedroom door swung open.  Jeff’s mouth was wide open.  Too wide open – he was missing his lower jaw and his left eye was torn out.  His tongue was stuck to his throat with caked blood and saliva.  The front of his shirt was soaked to his skin and he was missing two fingers on his left hand.  Jeff looked from his wife to her lover and shuffled towards the man who was sharing the marital bed with his wife.  Gregorio screamed something in Portuguese and leapt from the window.
            He never hit the ground- he landed on top of a horde of Walkers and they snapped his legs like two kids splitting the wishbone of their Thanksgiving turkey.  His left leg was ripped sideways at the knee and torn off.  His entire right leg was ripped out at the ball and socket joint of his hip.  He would have screamed except for the fact that a Walker had sunk its fingers into his eyes like a bowler gripping a fourteen pound ball and ripped his head from his lower jaw.  All that remained was his tongue that wagged with involuntary nerve impulses and his ragged stump of broken spine.
            Allison was frozen in fear.  She had literally lost her mind at the sight of her mangled husband shambling into the room.  The only thought running through her mind at the end was the registration of terror and agony as her Jeff ripped ragged mouthfuls of flesh from her prone body like a shark tearing sustenance from the carcass of a whale. 

Friday, January 20, 2012

Another Flash Story!

This is a story I submitted for publication but it was after the deadline expired so it was denied.  I think it's a fairly good story,maybe not as good as my Pot Roast story, but still pretty good.  Let me know what you think!

Hide and Seek
“The woods are haunted you know,” Josh said as they walked.
“Bullshit,” Bob said grumpily.  “There are no such things as ghosts.  Don’t be so stupid.”
“You guys are so stupid.  Why do you have to argue all the time?” Tanya said, rolling her eyes.  “We’ll just go into the woods to where the house is supposed to be and see for ourselves.”
“Fine with me.  How are you feeling, Josh?” Bob asked.
“I’m not scared if that’s what you’re asking,” he said but didn’t sound too convincing.
“Yeah right.  If we need to find our way back we can just follow your urine trail.”
“Shut it, Bob,” Josh said.
They walked in silence through the woods to the shack where the ghosts of the murdered children were supposed to be.  They opened the door and went inside.  Everything had a thick layer of dust…everything but the toys that were scattered around the floor.  There were no footprints anywhere except from the three of them.
“This is creepy.  I want to leave,” Tanya said.
“You can’t leave.  Now that you’re here, you have to stay,” Bob whispered.
“What?” she asked, her voice almost a scream.
“The children need playmates,” he said, and looked her in the face.  “And you’re here.  Time to play.”
Josh grabbed Tanya by the arm and pulled her back through the door.  His face was pale as a sheet and he was terrified.  A wet spot manifested itself on the front of his pants.  The two of them ran, Tanya chancing a glance over her shoulder saw Bob standing in the doorway of the shack looking out at them.  A second later she fell to the ground hard on top of Josh.  He had tripped over a root and tried to use her to maintain his balance. 
A shadow fell over them.  Two people wearing dirty, ragged clothes were looking down at them.  They each wore crooked smiles that were short several teeth.  The one on the left brought a rock down on Josh’s skull.  There was a cracking sound like an egg being dropped on a tile floor.  Josh’s body began to shake like it was electrified and the horrible creature brought the rock down again and Josh was still.
Tanya saw hands reaching for her and she screamed and passed out from terror.
“Be careful with your new ball, if you break that one it might be a long time before I can get another one,” Bob warned the children.  They grunted something unintelligible that he took to mean that they understood him.  They gently rolled Tanya’s head back and forth between them, her face locked in a frozen expression of fear.  Bob shook his head.  He warned them.  There were no ghosts.  Just the grown up children everyone thought were dead.  And they needed playmates.  Bob left the shack, eager to find more playmates for the children. 
They tired of their toys so quickly…

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

New Flash Fiction

So I need to post more often, clearly.  So I will be posting some of my new flash stuff that i'm working on so I can get some opinions on my work.  I just want to know how people are feeling about this stuff before I try to publish it.  So you can tell me what you think after you read it.  I will be adding some more soon.  Feel free to be honest.  I can take it, haha.  
Here's my most recent, entitled Rose From the Dead

The only thought going through her head was that of the need to eat.  She stumbled, nearly fell, righted herself and trudged on in a more or less straight line.  She had no idea where she was, or where she was headed.  Her need for nourishment was the only thing that drove her forward, kept her feet moving one after another.  To look at her you might think she was intoxicated.
She saw something move in the periphery of her left eye, but it was hard to find a proper direction in which to turn because her eye was dangling from the optic nerve from her eye socket and was bouncing against her cheek as she walked.  She turned and stared with her good right eye, but the view she expected was not what she got.  If she was capable of being nauseated she would have been.  Seeing two different points of view at the same time would do that to almost everyone, but she was far beyond that.  For Rose, it was just confusing.  And with her limited capacity to understand her surroundings and sensory input it just made her angry and upset.
She staggered along because she could hear something.  She would have hoped it was food if she was capable of any emotion other than basic, primal urges.  She staggered towards the direction of the sound, her bad eye causing her to walk in circles because her perspective kept changing.  She slowly reached up and pulled on the optic nerve and strands of muscle still holding the eye.  There was a small popping sound like a rubber band that broke after being stretched too far and Rose was in possession of only one line of sight.  Now she was able to see where she was going and follow the sound with greater ease.  She was able to sidestep a trashcan that had been knocked over and walk around a stalled car that was still smoldering. 
She approached an alley and the sound was getting louder.  A few days ago she would have recognized the sounds as a child calling for help but today it was like the ringing of a dinner bell.  Without realizing she was doing it, she began drooling at the thought of her impending meal.
She got into the narrow alley and saw the child, his mouth open and sound coming out.  She no longer recognized words so she did not hear the child call out to the woman on the fire escape above him.  All she knew was that she was finally about to get nourishment.  Of course all she got was a .22 caliber rifle bullet through her recently vacated left eye socket.  She fell down next to the child, who smiled up at the woman. 
Rose’s head was added to the others on the white picket fence surrounding the house where the child and his mother lived.