Sample from my latest, Ding Dong Ditch

A sample from my new Night Portals story, Ding Dong Ditch

He walked back to the door. This time his hands were no longer shaking, and the pain in his chest was almost nonexistent. The confidence he’d felt drained out of him as he got closer. He heard scratching like the crazy lady was running her fingernails down the door. Everything about     this is wrong, Edgar thought. But anger and the notion of revenge won out, as it always did sooner or later with him. He once again put his trembling hand on the doorknob and slowly unlocked the deadbolt with his other. 

His hand was slick with sweat, and his palm slid around the surface of the doorknob.

“Oh, what the hell?” Edgar wiped his hand on the front of his shirt. Once again, he steadied his hand on the knob. Edgar watched as his hand turned the doorknob and pulled the door open. Light seeped into the dark entryway, as Edgar opened the door only a crack.

Something banged hard against the door and started to push. The door smacked Edgar in the nose, instantly bringing tears to his eyes. He struggled, trying hard to close it on whatever was outside. Edgar could barely see through the tears and sweat that had clouded his vision. He blinked a couple of times, and his stinging eyes cleared a little.

Edgar didn’t want to look through the crack of the door. His eyes focused there against his will. The hand was green from the grave. It was hard to believe that it ever was covered in healthy skin at one time, but there were patches of discolored flesh that looked like they had once held the pigment of something that had once been alive.

“Come out, Edgar, we need to talk to you about the good word. We need to tell you that there is no God, only darkness.”

Sample from Melody 8 Books 1-3

Sample for Melody 8 Books 1-3, by Ernie Howard

Sample from Melody 8

“My mother used to sing to me when I was scared at night. When shadows in corners turned into drooling creatures who wanted to eat me. When the wind wasn’t just benign air, but a crazed demon bent on taking my soul and my body, bit by sweet bit. I’d lay my head on her chest to feel the vibration of her singing. The song would come out in low tones and hurried breaths, and just slightly off-key. I always thought my mother’s inability to hold a perfect tune made the song better. It was as if mom had put her touch on the song she’d chosen to sing. Her voice made pleasing chills go down my spine, and made my skin turn to goose pimples. I’d burrow deeper into the blankets smiling into my pillow. Mama would end the song and ask if I wanted to hear another one. If I were asleep, she would plant a kiss on my head. The moisture and the soft smack of my mother’s lips would wake me up just enough to see her walking out of my room.”

Get Melody 8 Books 1-3 HERE