NIGHTMARE: S.K. EPPERSON
Yo, Lizards!!!! If you’ll just stop trying to see your
reflection in the mirror for a minute!!! No, it’s not there!!! And I don’t know
why you’re surprised!!! You were warned not to go out to dinner with that date
you met online!!! Had incisors the size of a bobcat, but you were insistent and
you found out the hard way that the only thing for dinner was you!!!! So “suck”
it up and move on cause it’s Daily
Book Giveaway time!!!!
Since we’re only TWO
DAYS AWAY – did someone say “TWO DAYS AWAY”? – from All Hallow’s Pumpkin Day (think that’s its official title), we’re pumpin’
up the blood and gore factor!!! Yup, today we’re sending it through the roof
with an offering by the brilliantly twisted S.K. EPPERSON!!! S.K. has been published by St. Martin’s Press and here’s what one
reviewer had to say about NIGHTMARE:
“A
journalist on a feature-writing assignment visits a rural treatment center for
female psychiatric patients suffering from multiple personality disorder. While
investigating a series of suicides at the center, he discovers a gory blood
ritual carried out by family members of the chief psychiatrist. … And the
bloodletting and mutilation in this overly sensational novel brought this
reviewer close to gagging.”
-- Joyce Smothers, Monmouth Cty. Lib., Manalapan, N.J.
-- Joyce Smothers, Monmouth Cty. Lib., Manalapan, N.J.
Copyright 1992 Reed Business
Information, Inc.
Hell, yeah!!! Bring it on!!!! I don’t know about you, but
that makes me want to dive right in while keeping the barf bag handy!!!
S.K. is offering THREE
PRINT and THREE ECOPIES for your reading pleasure!!!! In her dedication to the
art of horror, she wants to make sure everyone is severely emotionally
disturbed by the genre!!! Yeah!!! I concur with that sentiment, but it wasn’t easy to convince
her to part with her work. I mean, there are so many out there in need of a
mental spanking so I set about trying to convince her!!! I only meant to talk
to her, but she somehow ended up in the trunk of my car!!! I discovered her
after a long drive into the woods where a pair of pliers applied pressure to
some of her back molars!!! It all seemed to do the trick, and the thirty years to life
I’m facing is a relatively miniscule amount of time to pay for acquiring
such a superb packet of mind-numbing horror and for persuading S.K. to write a story! Oh, yes!!!! S.K. took on the challenge and has written you all a Halloweenpalooza short that will send chills down that spine
of yours and out your hind end!!! It’s called TAO TAIL and let’s just say it’s
diabolically good!!! I’d go so far as to compare it to chocolate … and that’s a
high compliment indeed!!!
So let’s cut the chitchat and get to reading and winning!!! Sounds
like a full day to me!!! So scroll on down and read TAO TAIL, then click on over to the Official FB
Event page and find the OCTOBER 29TH DAILY GIVEAWAY POST that’s
pinned to the top of the page!!! Comment whether you want to win “print,” “ecopy,”
or “both,” and you just might!!!
Oh, and because this giveaway is going to be hotly contested
(I feel the violence and bloodletting is imminent), I’m suspending the rules regarding
the use of blunt instruments!!! You may whack away, but only if you promise to
apologize for knocking someone’s lights out … and it’s a good bet you’ll do
just that!!!! And, yes, before someone asks (and you know who that would be), you may throw darts at your discretion – just not at me!!!
Let the games begin and good luck to you all!!!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
S.K. EPPERSON is author of numerous novels, novellas and a
collection of short stories. First novel Brother Lowdown, published by
St.Martin’s, was nominated by HWA for Best First Novel. Subsequent works include Borderland, The Moons
of Summer, The Neighborhood, Nightmare and Green Lake. More recent releases are
Satyr’s Graze, The Tiger’s Spring (sequel to Brother Lowdown) and The
Slaughters of the Race. S.K. Epperson also writes under the pseudonyms S.J.
Strayhorn (Black Night, published by Kensington) and Dylan Harson (novels of
the old west, Kansas Blue and Abilene.)
NIGHTMARE
“This
author has been added to my list of favorites.
This book kept me interested from start to finish.
I've read a few other books by this author,
and this title did not let me down.”
– Amazon Reader
This book kept me interested from start to finish.
I've read a few other books by this author,
and this title did not let me down.”
– Amazon Reader
On a remote ranch deep in the Flint Hills at a clinic
for women diagnosed with multiple personality disorder, patients are dying in
extremely violent ways. The staff has invited Dr. Bryan Raleigh and his team,
along with his journalist brother, David, to write about the clinic, and from
the moment of their arrival they begin unwillingly to unravel secrets about the
family who owns the ranch, including a strange blood ritual practiced by the
hemophiliac son and even more bizarre rites performed by the grotesque,
voyeuristic wife of the clinic's director. Soon David and the others begin to
suspect the rude, imperious woman who never leaves the third floor may be
somehow responsible for the deaths of traumatized patients dying one by one,
and the closer they get to the truth, the bigger the threat becomes to their
own safety.
Tao tail
by S.K. EPPERSON
Copyright ©2014 S.K. Epperson
More annoying to Fiona than all the
details involved in moving to a new home was the prospect of having to deal
with new neighbors. She realized that as an artist she was something of a
curiosity. Most people left their homes more often than she did and few people
preferred having all of their grocery and sundry items delivered. Because she
was rarely visible she presented a mystery, and neighbors were often curious to
see her work and by extension her studio, which maddened Fiona. When she
discovered the man next door was an insurance agent she did not show up at his
office and ask to view the desk from which he sold policies. Nor did she
traipse to the workplace of the banker on the other side to watch daily
transactions. Why people felt perfectly welcome to invite themselves over for a
look at her art studio was beyond understanding, and yet this is what her new
neighbors did, exactly ten days after her arrival.
"We didn’t even realize the house
was for sale,” said the insurance agent’s wife. “And all the covered canvases
made us curious." Her smile was hopeful as he said the last, clearly
expecting an invitation. In her mouth, she wore what looked like a bite-guard.
"We've never known a real artist."
Met lots of fake ones, have you. (Fiona
always wanted to say this but never did. She had to live next door to these
people after all.)
The banker hurried over when she saw
the insurance agent and his wife at Fiona's door. She introduced herself as
Pamela, not Pam, thank you. Her husband was a business executive and traveled a
lot, otherwise he would have come to meet her as well. She too was interested
in Fiona's canvases because she had an artist brother who rarely sold anything.
Fiona must be doing quite well to afford the house on her own. Was she
comfortable telling them how much she sold her paintings for and did she have
any shows planned at local galleries?
"I apologize." Fiona begged
to be excused because of a migraine just beginning. The insurance agent, his
wife, and Pamela, not Pam, understood. Artists, real ones, were sensitive
people after all.
As they filed away down her drive,
Fiona heard the insurance agent tell the banker it was incredibly rude of her
to ask Fiona how much money she made from her paintings. The banker opened her
mouth to reply then saw the fourth neighbor in the circle arrive home in a
sleek black car. The bite-guard did double-duty as drool catcher when the mouth
of the insurance agent's wife fell open and hung that way. A tall man with a
broad chest covered by a black open-collared shirt emerged from the car. His
hair, equally sleek and black, was combed straight back from a tanned, exotic
looking face. The insurance agent spoke first, "How are you, Tao?"
The new arrival's dark gaze lifted and he inclined his head to acknowledge his
neighbors. He noticed Fiona then, and gave another nod to her alone. Fiona felt
her breath catch as their eyes met across the cul-de-sac. She felt instantly
better about her new neighbors, one of them, anyway.
Then she met Tao's cat.
She knew the cat belonged to him
because on the day of nodding his door opened and the cat ran inside. Like his
owner, the cat was long and sleek and Fiona felt compelled to watch each
morning as it sat on her deck and bathed itself. Black from tip to toe, the cat
possessed just two white hairs, one on its brow and one on its chest. Its eyes
were deep green, rather than the usual golden. Like his owner, the cat was not
excited about hearing its name called and refused to respond when Fiona spoke
to it. She knew what the result of such thorough bathing meant...squishy
puddles of cat gak, complete with hairballs. Still she let it stay on her deck,
and not simply because she would be able to tell the owner the cat's location
should he start looking. The complete focus of the animal captivated and
entranced with the steady sweep of tongue and languid grace of its movements.
She wondered if it was possible to catch something so fluid and natural on
canvas and so hurried to find a sketchpad. By the time she came back, the cat
had finished with its bath and only glanced at her as it slunk away across the
lawn. That was fine. She could wait.
The next day the insurance agent's
bulldog came sniffing around the shrubs in front of Fiona's house. When it
hiked its leg, Fiona opened the door and shouted at it. The agent stood in his
driveway, talking on his cell phone. He took it away from his ear and yelled at
the dog to hurry up he had to go. The dog finished peeing on Fiona's shrubs. It
took two steps, then hunched and started pooping on her lawn. Fiona shouted
again. "Hello! Do you mind?"
At that moment, Tao's black cat came
around the hedge, headed for her sunny deck no doubt, and the dog spotted the
feline. The pooping stopped and barking began. Rather than run, the black cat
arched its spine and puffed itself up to three times its normal size. The dog
charged and Fiona was awed to see the cat meet the bulldog head on. There was a
flurry of fangs, claws, yowls and then howls as the bulldog rethought and
clearly regretted his attack. He yelped and backpedaled away from the fury of
the fierce black feline. Fiona couldn't help smiling. Then she realized the
insurance agent had scooped up his dog and was looking it over. He was mad as
hell that Tao's cat had just beat up his bulldog. He strode over to knock on
Tao's door, but of course, Tao wasn't home. He was never home. The agent then
came to speak to Fiona. "You're my witness. Look what that cat did to
Gaius. He's going to need stitches!"
It was true; Gaius's poor ugly face was
now uglier yet. His lower lip hung by a shred of flesh.
Fiona nodded. "Yes, I saw the cat
minding its own business when your dog attacked him...after peeing on my shrubs
and pooping on my lawn, which he has done before, judging from the
discoloration of the leaves, and there is a leash law and poop pick up policy
in the homeowner covenants." (She wanted to say all of this, but did not.
She had to live beside these people, after all.)
"Thank God we've got pet
insurance," the insurance agent said and hurried away with the bleeding
bulldog in his arms.
The black cat was even more fascinating
to Fiona after the incident with the dog. She began leaving open cans of tuna
on her deck to try to attract the animal so she could sketch it. She loved to
watch it clean itself. The black of its fur was so beautiful in the early
light, its form so perfectly silhouetted in gold borrowed by the sun. She tried
every way she could think to capture the beauty of the animal, to make it come
alive through movement frozen on canvas.
The cat disappeared for a time then and
she saw that Tao was finally at home. He spent several days in a row at home
without leaving and the cat did not go outside once during that time. Fiona was
so accustomed to waking up and seeing it on her deck that she found she missed
its calm presence. She nearly went across the cul-de-sac to talk to Tao about
the cat, tell him she was working on a new project that featured his pet, but
she could not do it. He would think it as stupid as it sounded when she thought
it, though as owner of the cat he might understand. The day she nearly made
herself go over, he surprised her by coming to her door instead. Up close he
was breathtaking, every bit as beautiful as his pet. In fact, he reminded her
of a big, black cat and in a flash, she remembered a movie she had once seen about
people that turned into panthers. She blinked as he stood before her, wondering
if that was why she had not seen his cat for several days, because he was the
cat and now he was in human form. He even had one white hair in his left
eyebrow.
Tao frowned and said, "Did you
hear me? When I called about the letter I received today, he said to ask you.
He says you're his witness."
Fiona came to her senses, largely
because she realized his eyes were dark brown, nearly black, and not green like
his cat.
"The man is an idiot." Fiona
did say this. "I saw his unleashed dog attack your cat. Your cat defended
itself. The dog needed his lip put back together afterward. End of story."
Tao chuckled. "Seriously?"
"Yes and the owners have pet
insurance, so no doubt he's covered for catastrophic cat damage."
More chuckling.
"The real reason he wants to sue
is because you make his wife drool like a teething toddler every time she sees
you." (This Fiona did not say, but definitely experienced, feeling a tiny
spool in the corner of her own mouth.)
Then she remembered his cat.
"Is your pet all right? I haven't
seen it in several days. Not injured by the dog I hope?"
"No," Tao assured her.
"The cat's fine, hanging out at home. I think a mouse got into the house
from the garage."
A mouse. How clever was that feline of
his? Battling canines and stalking rodents.
"Your cat enjoys my deck,"
Fiona told Tao. "It likes to sun there. What is its name by the way?"
"You'll laugh," Tao said.
Fiona smiled. "Only if it's
something like Bluto or Black Bart."
"It's Tao Tail."
She didn't get it. What was more she
thought it unworthy of the magnificent feline. Tao Tail?
"It wasn't my idea. My ex-wife
gave it to me, said it was the last puss—well, you get it—that I was ever
getting from her."
"Oh." Fiona got it.
"I've offended you," Tao
said. "I apologize."
"No...I...well I did ask its
name."
"I am sorry," Tao said.
"I'll go. Thanks for telling me about the thing with the dog. I appreciate
it."
"You're welcome."
Fiona was happy to see him leave. She wasn't
that offended, the crass joke was his ex's not his, but had she responded
lightly then she felt they were coming close to a situation where it was normal
for him to ask to come in and 'see some of her work' and she was not ready for
that, not with him, not with any of them. She desperately needed to see his
cat, however.
She refused to call the animal by its
full name, shortened it to Tao, which surprisingly, made it look around at her
on the next morning it showed up on her deck. Fiona wasn't dressed yet, wore
only a nightshirt and bare legs and her pulse jumped as the animal turned full
around to stare at her, its head still, the only movement a tiny flick of the
tip of its tail. Fiona found the cat’s stare at her oddly arousing, she felt
almost as if the owner were looking at her through his pet. Then her jaw
dropped as the owner himself came around the back of her house to her deck. He
stopped when he saw her and his eyes lowered to her bare legs. "I
apologize," he said, "I don't mean to intrude, but animal control is
at my home, looking for my cat. The neighbor claims my cat gave his dog
rabies."
"That's ridiculous." Fiona
stepped aside and opened the French doors on her patio. "The cat can stay
in my house until they go away."
"Are you sure?" Tao asked.
"Yes, yes, hurry." Fiona
beckoned, and Tao swept up his cat and hurriedly released it inside. Fiona
closed the door behind her. Tao was very close and she realized her nightshirt
was incredibly thin and the morning cool. He smelled wonderful, she noticed,
but she said, "You should go before they come looking for you."
"Of course, thank you." He
departed then and she was alone with the beautiful captivating creature that
immediately jumped up on a counter to be at eye level with her.
Such a clever cat.
She spent the day happily sketching and
was finally ready to put paint to canvas when her doorbell rang. Fiona looked
outside and saw the insurance agent at her door. Doubtlessly come to complain
about droopy-lipped Gaius contracting rabies. What a ridiculous notion. The
animal in her living room clearly did not have rabies, was not in the least
dangerous. Fiona chose not to open the door. She went back to her studio
instead and turned on some music to drown out the insistent ringing. She was
glad the neighbors did not have her cell number, knew the persistent insurance
man would be pestering her with calls and texts if she couldn't speak with her
in person.
Tao came over later and when he rang
the bell, Fiona answered right away. She was ready to tell him no, he could not
have the beautiful black animal lying in her bed. She was deeply in love with
his cat she wanted to tell him, but did not. He asked if he could have his pet
and Fiona called to it but it did not come. Then Tao called to the cat and
still it did not come. "This is awkward," she said. "It's on my
bed."
"If you wouldn't mind showing me,
I'll just grab the cat and get out of your hair."
She walked down the hall to her bedroom
at the back of the house and stood in the door. "The bed has replaced my
deck, I think."
Tao walked in the room then stopped and
turned to her. "I can't thank you enough. I'm going to take it to my
friend's house tonight until the coast is clear."
"No," Fiona said, much too
loudly she realized. "Just let it stay here. Please, I've become so fond
of it. And...I've begun a painting."
"Of my cat?"
"Yes, actually."
"May I—" He stepped toward
the door as she started toward him and the two of them bumped into each other,
full length along their bodies. Fiona gasped. He smelled so incredible. How was
it possible for anyone to smell so good at the end of the day?
"I'd rather not show it to anyone
just yet," she said to cover her flustered state.
"You're very sweet," he said,
his voice low. "You know that?" He brushed her nose with a finger.
"I...am not, really, I'm actually
more of a termagant, but thank you. I probably won't open the door again for
another few days. The neighbors, you see..."
Tao had captivated her senses and left
her babbling. Only then did she notice the cat sitting up on the bed and
watching them, its eyes large, tail steadily thumping.
"I'll go then," Tao said.
"Take care of my baby."
Fiona froze in rapture as he bent his
head and dropped a light kiss on her cheek. Her breath caught and she looked at
the now still tail of the cat, feeling almost guilty, as if she were somehow
cheating on the magnificent animal.
"I'll let myself out and leave
some food for her on your deck," Tao said, and then he departed.
Fiona nodded. She blinked. Tao had said
her.
She stared at the black cat. Was the
animal a female?
Tao Tail.
The only puss— he was ever getting from
his ex-wife again.
Of course, it was female.
The deep disappointment Fiona
experienced was completely irrational. She admitted it. Still it was there. She
felt deliberately deceived, by both Tao and his feline, whose gaze now seemed
mocking and even slightly threatening as it stared back at her. The kiss from
Tao had obviously made the animal jealous. Fiona moved restlessly around the
room then went down the hall to the studio. She could no longer work on the
painting, could not even look at it. She discarded most of the drawings. The
doorbell rang again and she heard the insurance agent through the door, telling
her he had just seen Tao leave her house so he knew she was home. He pounded
and rang until she threatened to call the police if he didn’t go away and leave
her alone. There was too much drama in this cul-de-sac. She needed peace and
quiet and…inspiration.
She stalked across the room and opened
the French doors to her deck. She called the cat. The cat did not come. Fiona
marched to her bedroom and yelled at the animal to get off her bed and get out
of her house. She had a broom and she wasn’t afraid to use it. The cat only
looked at her, its tail thumping on the duvet once, twice, before it ignored
her to begin a new bath.
Fiona went into the master bath and
filled a glass with water, which she brought out and dumped on the cat. The cat
hissed at her and leaped off the bed. Fiona followed it down the hall and
through the open doors. It stopped as it reached the end of the deck and looked
balefully back at her.
“Keep going,” Fiona said to it. “Get
off my deck and out of my yard. I’m not going to compete with you. You can have
him, but this deck is mine.”
The cat sat down and licked its wet
chest.
“I said get out!” Fiona stomped into
the kitchen.
She returned with a broom and walked
toward the cat. It hissed, arched its back and emitted a guttural growl. Fiona
pushed at the cat with the broom bristles, and quicker than she could react,
the animal sprang upon her. Claws sunk into her hands, arms and face, and she felt
fangs rip at her cheek, ear and nose as she tried to turn her head away from
the attack. Fiona screamed as she tried to pull the cat from her but its claws
only dug in deeper and she felt it shredding the skin from her neck and chin as
it continued its assault.
She became aware of someone shouting.
Then water from a hose hit her in the face and mercifully made the cat’s claws
detach. It jumped away from her and darted across the lawn into the shrubs.
Fiona felt blood coursing down her face
and arms. The look on the face of the insurance agent frightened her even more
than the attack and Fiona lost consciousness and dropped to the deck.
“I tried to tell you it had rabies,”
the insurance agent muttered. Then he took out his phone and called 911.
While he waited for the ambulance, the
insurance agent decided to step inside and have a quick peek at the canvases in
the art studio. He hurried down the hall and looked in rooms until he found the
one full of canvases. Minutes later he went back to Fiona’s unconscious form
and stared down at her bleeding, disfigured face. What a fraud, he told
himself. Every single canvas was blank. Not a tube of paint opened or brush
used, only a trashcan full of blank, wadded up pages.
The insurance agent checked her to make
sure she was still breathing and saw the black cat come slinking back toward
the deck, the hair on its back still fuzzed out. There was tuna in a can on the
deck and the insurance agent kicked it at the cat. The cat kept coming.
“Shit,” the man said and scrambled to
find the hose again. He picked it up and readied it to spray, but the cat
plopped down beside Fiona on the deck and eyed him, like a lioness guarding her
kill.
The tail thumped once, twice and then
the cat began to lick its paws, all the while remaining aware of the man with
the nozzle in his hand. When his fingers moved to compress the trigger, the
feline growled deep in its chest and the coiled muscles in its black haunches
tensed.
The insurance agent dropped the hose
and ran around to the front of the house to wait for the ambulance there.
The cat was gone when he showed two
frowning EMTs around to the deck, and after they hauled Fiona away, the
insurance agent went to close the French doors. The cat sat on the tile inside
the house and slowly stood when it saw him. He hastily grabbed the doors, shut
them then called animal control’s number to tell them where they could find the
cat. They called him back and said even if the doors were unlocked, they still
needed the homeowner’s permission to open them and retrieve the cat. He had no
number for Fiona, hadn’t even asked to which hospital they were taking her, so
his last recourse was to call the homeowner’s association and find out if they
had a contact number for her.
The woman at the HOA had no idea what
he was talking about, the owner of the home was an engineer gone to Brazil for
six months to help prepare for The Olympics. He had paid all his dues in
advance.
The insurance agent congratulated
himself for having thwarted an obvious squatter and no longer felt sorry for
what happened to Fiona’s face, left in even worse shape than Gaius had been. He
called the contact number he had for Tao and left a message, told him where his
cat was and what it had done. He told him about Fiona, the empty canvasses and
the squatting then ended the call with a satisfied smile on his face.
Tao called him from Brazil, reminded
him he had sublet the place to a friend and asked her to take care of his cat.
The insurance agent already knew all this, so why did he sound so confused?
The agent looked at the home across
from Fiona’s, Tao’s home. He asked the man on the phone what his address was,
and Tao asked him if he was nuts. His address was what it had always been, and
he told him the numbers of the house where the agent was standing. The agent
then asked Tao who he remembered living across the street from them.
“The artist,” said Tao. “The recluse
you’re obsessed with, who never leaves the house. Listen, my friend called
yesterday and said you were freaking her out, hanging out on my deck, sneaking
into my house and staring at my cat. Said you kept calling yourself by the name
you left in the message, Fiona, or something like that. She thinks you’re some
nut in a homophobic panic having transgender delusions. Did you ever start your
round of shots?”
“What?”
“Your dog mauled you last month,
remember? He had rabies, Doug. Did you ever start your shots? I’ve been trying
to call my friend all night. Can you go knock on my door, ask her to call me?”
“I’m sorry, I feel another migraine
coming on,” the insurance agent said then hung up. He heard car doors closing
out front and men talking on a radio. He hoped it was finally animal control.
He bent to pick up the broken broom. The deep wounds on his hand and arm
opened, blood dripped down to stain the wooden deck.
Inside the house, the black cat growled
at him.
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