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Showing posts with label haiku. Show all posts
Showing posts with label haiku. Show all posts

Monday, November 7, 2022

PNR Author Elli Morgan: Paranormal Romance Haikus + giveaway

My book “The Waxing Moon” features three haiku—one at the beginning of each part of the story.

They give you little hints what the respective part is about, without revealing too much.

And here they are:

The Waxing Moon
A lost girl wanders,
led by the crescent moon’s shine,
into the beast’s arms.

Break away, tempted
by the waxing moon’s promise.
Always. Forever.

The end of the road
when the moon comes full circle—
a moment of truth.

Since I enjoy writing haiku, I wrote some more paranormal romance haiku just for you:

Dark secret
A beautiful prince
with a life full of secrets—
his princess drinks blood.

True face
A monster hidden
beneath a human shell. Say,
how will she see me?

Chat-up
A lone wolf at night
searching love in the city...
He buys her a drink.

Lesson
My lover kisses
me good night every night since
the day I killed him.

Together
The warlock calls me.
The time has come to embrace
our true destiny.

Eternity
Through the vampire’s kiss
lulled into fatal slumber.
Can love conquer death?

The Waxing Moon
by Elli Morgan
November 7th, 2022

Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
ISBN: 978-1-5092-4400-3
ISBN: 978-1-5092-4401-0
ASIN: B0B8XPWTWT
Number of pages: 252
Word Count: 57649
Cover Artist: Jennifer Greeff
How far would you go to escape mundanity, and what would you risk for eternity with your beloved?

Lilah Neumann has longed for something beyond the mundane for as long as she can remember. A chance meeting with a mysterious and sexy vampire turns her dreams into a reality filled with adventure and excitement. She has no plans to return to her previous dull life.

After spending 400 years as a lone mercenary, Cain finds more than a companion in 19-year-old Lilah. Yet he can’t shake his past and struggles to suppress his feelings to protect her from the dangers and temptations his kind offers.

When Cain abandons her to keep her safe, Lilah finds herself on a journey through Europe to overcome her human limits and fight for a place by his side. But can a human survive in a vampire’s world?


Excerpt Chapter 2
The crescent moon hung high in the dark sky as Lilah roamed the deserted streets of her neighborhood. Logic told her she shouldn’t be out alone at this hour, but she didn’t care. She’d always loved the mystery of the night. Even as a child, she slipped outside and gazed at the stars when she felt sad. They gave her hope that life offered more than what she knew. Besides, she needed to clear her head, and the fresh air on this warm summer night calmed her.

With worries about an uncertain future preoccupying her mind, she didn’t pay attention to her surroundings until a shiver ran through her body. She didn’t recognize the street she walked on, and her instincts told her she wasn’t alone. Someone—or something—was lurking in the shadows, watching her every move.

It’s not human. It was a silly thought or maybe wishful thinking. Most of the books, movies, and TV shows she devoured featured vampires and other things that go bump in the night. Meeting someone, or rather something, right out of her favorite works of fiction excited her.

Or maybe the prospect of something supernatural lying in wait comforted her more than the idea of a serial killer or rapist stalking her. Either way, she stopped to look around in hopes of finding a way out of a potentially dangerous situation.

Old-looking town houses lined the narrow, cobbled street. They were dark. Their inhabitants were asleep or not at home. The only light came from a single streetlamp behind her, about two meters from where she stood. Only her breathing interrupted the silence.

She took a few more steps before pausing again. Apart from her feet echoing on the cobblestones, there was no sound. Nothing hinted at anyone walking nearby, following her, or breathing in her vicinity. And yet, the goose bumps on her skin convinced her otherwise.

She preferred finding out about her pursuer sooner rather than later. As she couldn’t achieve anything by staying quiet, she summoned up her courage to speak. “Stop hiding yourself. I know you’re there…I can’t see or hear you…But I can feel you watching me.” With a whisper, she added the word “vampire.”

A chuckle coming from behind her broke the silence. She squealed, and when she turned around, a tall, young man with shoulder-length, chocolate-brown hair, pale skin, and a long, dark leather coat was standing below the streetlight. He hadn’t been there when she’d checked her surroundings earlier, and there had been no footsteps indicating anyone had walked up to her.

“Interesting,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to notice me. How did you recognize me for what I am without even seeing me?” He spoke softly, as if not to frighten her.

How indeed? She did not have a rational explanation.

“Call it a gut feeling or a verbalization of my deepest hopes.” Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears. Was she actually talking to a vampire?

“Your deepest hopes? Why do I, a vampire, instill hope instead of fear in you?”

“I’ve prayed for something more than a mundane life. Meeting a vampire is not an everyday experience, so I’m thrilled.” And possibly screwed, depending on what he wanted from her.

The vampire smiled, revealing his fangs. “Even if meeting me is the last experience you’ll ever have? Aren’t you afraid to die?”

She’d never contemplated her death. The possibility of her life ending in an instant stole her breath. But wasn’t a short, exciting life worth much more than a long and boring existence? Didn’t meeting with a vampire top everything she could hope for, in a world which often felt meaningless?

“I’m more afraid of living without ever feeling alive.” Despite her words, her voice trembled.

“So you’ll give me your blood and your life?”

“I don’t mind donating some blood, but my life is a different matter. If it’s up to me, I’d prefer to keep it.” She gulped. Did she have a choice? “Death by vampire doesn’t sound too bad, though. There are worse or more boring ways to die. And when you talk about taking my life, does it mean I’ll die for good, or will your bite turn me into a vampire as well?”

He answered with a dry laugh. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, girl, but a simple bite won’t turn you. We’d be out of food in no time if every human we bit became a vampire. No, we can choose to turn a human, but it’s not a choice taken lightly. I won’t condemn anyone to this miserable life.”

“You’ve got a sad view of your life.”

“You’re one to talk. Your life doesn’t seem to fascinate you either.”

“It didn’t until today,” she admitted. “You’ve shown me something fascinating. The existence of vampires and a world beyond the one I know as a human is giving me hope for a more interesting tomorrow.”

The vampire vanished from where he stood, only to appear right behind her. “What a pity there won’t be another tomorrow for you.”

About the Author:

Elli Morgan was born in 1991 in a small town in Germany. Although she only started learning English in sixth grade, she quickly fell in love with the language. To improve her skills, she spent a year working and traveling in Canada and the US.
As a teenager, she devoured countless fanfictions and vampire novels. During that time, she also developed the idea for her first book, but she didn’t write it down until the COVID-19 lockdown in 2020.

Apart from being a writer, she’s also a trained mathematician, working as Business Intelligence Developer at an IT company. In her free time, she enjoys hiking, traveling, and all kinds of games.

Tweet:
Living with a vampire is everything she hoped—and she’ll risk her life to remain by his side. https://books2read.com/TheWaxingMoon
#ParanormalRomance #UrbanFantasy #PNR #vampires #romancebooks #newreleases #wrpbks

GIVEAWAY
$25 amazon gift card and a signed copy of “The Waxing Moon”


Tuesday, March 8, 2022

Horror Haikus based on Maria DeVivo's novel Witch of the Black Circle + excerpt

Horror Haikus for Witch of the Black Circle by Maria DeVivo

One of my favorite, all-time forms of poetry is the Haiku. Ancient Japanese nature poems with a very clear-cut formula. What’s NOT to love? Only problem – I haven’t written a poem in FOR-EVA! So, I really dug deep and took to the challenge! I tried to embody the characters and plot for my newest novel Witch of the Black Circle with these original pieces.


“Witch of the Black Circle”
The hour has come
Hail to the new Blodheksa
Bringing New Eden

“Joephie”
I see the sky crack
And the stars finally shift
The crow calls my name

“RK Big Shot”
The false prophet kills
A massacre in the woods
Say you love Satan

“Kit”
Not-so innocent
Your lips taste of bubblegum
Ridden like a beast

“Trent”
Backwards messages
With the voice from the beyond
Guide them to glory

“Seth”
Bones and blood and board
Ritual of destiny
Digging up the world

“Blodheksa”
The songs pierce the ears
With magic from long ago
Unlocking her soul

“The 6-6-6”
Six important signs
To achieve your full power
And bring Hell on Earth

“Javier”
Unwitting member
Pushing too hard for the truth
Arrogance for life

“The Sump”
Lovers and Stoners
Depression in the green Earth
Unholy desire

Witch of the Black Circle (Dawn of the Blood Witch Book One)
by Maria DeVivo
March 7, 2022

Genre: Horror
Publisher: 4 Horsemen Publications
ASIN: B09NB1G11Y
Number of pages: 217
Word Count: 64k
When it comes to witchcraft, it's never just a teenage phase...

For as long as she can remember, high school senior Joephie Turner's mother has told her she is cursed by a witch. As she settles into her new hometown of Northport, Long Island at the height of the 1980s Satanic Panic era, Joephie is accepted into a circle of friends obsessed with the occult. Demonic messages on cassette tapes, shady youth group leaders, and passionate sexual encounters push the teen into a thrilling world that lends a deeper meaning to the proverbial mantra: "sex, drugs, and rock and roll." Until it all goes wrong.

A decade later, haunted by nightmares of cults and rituals, formidable burgeoning witch Joephie pieces her memories together in search of answers about the small group of suburban teens that meddled with dark forces. As an adult, Joephie will have to decide what, or who, she is willing to sacrifice from her past in order to claw her way back to sanity.

Inspired by true events, Witch of the Black Circle is a deliciously wicked and nostalgic journey through time where the lines of reality and the supernatural blur. Content warning: satanic rituals; sex; graphic violence; language; drug use


Excerpt
Dan reaches over to his bag and pulls out his math book. In the front pouch, I notice a small novel with a black cover. “Hey,” I say, nodding my head in the backpack’s direction. “Whatcha reading?”

“Uh, nothing,” he answers, shrugging his shoulders.
I put out my arms and tap my fingers together like a baby grasping at something. “Lemme see it!”

“Nah. It’s really nothing,” he repeats, but he’s unconvincing, and it makes my curiosity burn a hole in my brain.

Kit’s curiosity is piqued as well, so she stands up and moves behind the chair with the backpack. “Now, now,” she sings. “No secrets here, Dan!” She grabs the bag from the chair and pulls out the book. “The Satanic Bible?”

Dan quickly shoots up from the chair, snatches the book away from her, and cradles it to his chest as to hide the cover from us. “Shhhh…” he admonishes as he looks side to side, assessing if my mother was in the vicinity or not.

I hold out my hand again. “What are you reading that for?” I ask. “Give it here.”

Reluctantly, he turns the book over to me, and I examine the cover, the spine, and the back like an investigator studying a piece of crime-scene evidence. Only, I don’t have on rubber gloves. I’ve known about this book. Heard about it. Knew the story of the author, Dr. Anton LaVey, and his Church of Satan. Practically, every youth ministry I had attended had mentioned the evil of this piece of literature at some point in time: If you even look at the book, you can be possessed. Being in its presence alone can have a profound effect on your heavenly soul. Dare not open or read the pages for fear of infiltration by a powerful demonic force. But as I actually hold the book for the first time in my life, I feel … nothing. No fear. No wonder. No spooky taboo. I press the book in my palms trying to feel for any ‘other-worldly’ vibrations or indication that if I open it up I will be damned to hell. But no. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. And more lies and deception from my past teachers come into clear view. “Dude. It’s just a book.”

“Yeah, I know it’s just a book,” he huffs, grabs it from me, and shoves it back into his bag.

The three of us sit back down in silence for a few minutes.

“You okay, man?” Kit asks, concerned.

“Yeah. Fine.”

Clearly, he’s not.

“Where’d you get it?” I ask.

“Why’d you get it?” Kit emphasizes.

Dan looks behind him and scans the kitchen again. Then, he moves his upper body slightly across the table as if to beckon me and Kit to huddle in. We oblige him and he speaks in a soft, hushed tone: “Thomas. This guy from my school. He got the connection with that Ricky kid and the Knights of the Black Circle.”

“The Knights of the Black Circle?” I ask. “What’s that?”

Dan glares at me and holds up his arm revealing the faded black circles drawn up and down his arm, over and over and over. I had thought they were just silly drawings borne out of boredom, but…

“They wanted him to read the book and know some stuff before they accepted him,” he continues. “Thomas said he could probably get me in, too, and told me what passages to study and shit.”

Kit’s pretty eyes widen, and her bangs touch her eyelashes again. “He knows the Acid King?”

A sneer forms on Dan’s lips and he nods. “Uh huh.”

“Wait,” I protest. “What are you talking about? Who are the Knights of the Black Circle?

What’s an Acid King?”

“The Knights…” Dan explains, “they’re a group. Local. They do stuff. They know stuff.”

About the Author:

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Maria is the Author of the Amazon bestselling and award winning series The Coal Elf Chronicles, the YA psychological horror series The Altered Experience, and the NA Urban Fantasy series The Aestrangel Trinity. When not writing about dark fantasy and horror, she teaches Language Arts and Journalism to middle school students in Florida. A lover of all things dark and demented, she takes pleasure in warping the comfort factor in her readers’ minds. Just when you think you’ve reached a safe space in her stories, she snaps you back into her twisted reality.

Tweet:
WITCH OF THE BLACK CIRCLE delves into the world of the 1980s Satanic Panic era, where the devil lurked in Ouija boards and heavy metal music.
https://amzn.to/3HEN9Nv
#blodheksa #satanicpanic #witches #witchoftheblackcircle

Thursday, May 20, 2021

Scifi Haikus For Mara’s Awakening by Leo Flynn


Hi, I'm Leo Flynn, the author of Mara’s Awakening. I write science fiction and poetry, but it never occurred to me to combine them!

Without further ado, I present a compilation of my attempt at science fiction haikus, inspired by my debut book. Enjoy!




Confined
in solitary
trapped here, for six years
she's slowly drowning

Scarred
forsaken woman
battles cut on her face
how did she remain

Locked Away
secrets she hides
in those weary eyes
forgot how to feel

Young Reptilian
serpentine boy
nobility defined
why is he here

Cybernetics
half silver, half flesh
she walks, hydraulics whine
part of her isn't hers

Change
something is wrong
the galaxy is changing
her bones feel it

Her State Of Mind
a stagnant river
a lost, listless entity
for eternity


Haunted
the demons and ghosts
that live inside her
relentless terror

Irresponsible
lackadaisical
ignoring the ugly chaos
she helped create

Plotting
she machinates
if only the woman saw
what was in store

How She Was
equanimity
they admired that in her
now, lost forever

Unyielding
she, refractory
the most feared inmate
they can't tame her

Betrayal
this thing, betrayal
she knows it like herself
she knows all too well


The first in an explosive science fiction series of short stories, this is an action-packed and addictive book from an emerging author.

by Leo Flynn
Mara Keres. A trained warrior and formerly highly respected peacekeeper.

Note "formerly."

Once, she had her life under control. Once, she had the trust of the galaxy.

Now she rots in the same prison she used to sentence people to. Solitary confinement for six years. Would've brought anyone else to their knees.

Not her.

Then an offer resurfaces, almost too good to be true. Ghosts of her past and demons come back to haunt her, will she ever make it out alive?

Sometimes, facing your worst memories is worth the risk.

Featuring a badass anti-hero, secrets, betrayals, twists and turns, this gripping story will keep you on the edge of your seat and leave you wanting more.

Mara's Choice: Space Opera Adventure Novelette (Book 2 Of The Mara Files)

Excerpt From The Book
The light faded

Like a starship jumping into hyperspace

It disappeared

Lost forever

————————————————————

Cackling laughter, a blinding flash, and screams of the dead and dying.

Distant starship gunfire lighting up the sky above. A small settlement in flames.

She awoke, body wracked with pain, sweat pouring down her forehead. A strangled scream erupted from her throat, her breathing heavy, haggard, and slow.

No... Just... another dream.

++++++++++++++++

Scratch. A single slash across a series of little straight lines. Bloody h*ll... already? Today marked her sixth year in prison -- six, long, years.

Groaning, she stood, shivers running down her spine.

Just a dream. Just a dream.

The shiny surface of the wall caught her reflection. Stopping, she stared. A dark-skinned, gaunt face, years of stress etched across her cheekbones and forehead. Hair going grey at the roots. To think she was only forty-something.

She dropped to the floor, jumping straight into an exercise routine. Stop thinking about it!

Coming into pushups, she struggled to do them in full. Bloody hand restrainer, useless for everything. Suppose that was what they wanted.

Sweat poured down her cheeks, arms shaking with the effort. Keep going.

++++++++++++++++

She slumped to the ground, exhausted.

Moments passed, and the woman dragged a loose stone out from the ground. Hands trembling, she pulled the precious object out, gently and slowly. The smooth fabric cooled her quivering, sweaty fingers.

A thick sash of red, gold, and green symbolizing both a triumphant and harrowing victory. They could take everything from her, but she would never forget what she'd done, who she was. She was a warrior -- a war hero. The only thing left of her former self, and she would cling to it forever.

Click, clack, clunk. Her head snapped up. Gears in the door turned, spinning faster as bolts thrust open.

What...?

Fumbling to hide it, she dragged the stone back across, evidence of a hidey-hole disappearing. Under her clothes went the prized object, warm and reassuring against her cold chest. She scrambled back, head thundering, eyes wide with anticipation.

Blinding light. A short, stocky figure with light brown skin, wearing a uniform covered in badges, stood over her. "Mara."

She rubbed her eyes. Was she hallucinating?

"Your behavior has improved. We have decided solitary confinement is no longer necessary."

She tried to form a reply, nothing came. She hadn't spoken since... Who knew? All her mouth could manage was a grunt.

"You shall be transferred to your new cell, effective immediately. Stand."

Her leg groaned under the sudden effort. No, come on! It whirred into life; she stood, towering over her Warden.

"Well?"

"Aye... Ma'am."

Her first words in years.

About the Author:

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Leo Flynn writes poetry & gripping, action-packed SciFi, like The Mara Files, his debut, an exciting science fiction short story series.

Other galaxies, reading, talking too much about writing and music consume his waking hours.

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Steampunk Haiku with author Kristen Weiss (A Midsummer Night’s Mechanical book tour) + giveaway

Thank you for this opportunity to write some steampunk haiku! Haiku are a poetry form I’ve been playing with. Traditionally, they present two images and develop a mood or emotion, which ups the challenge. There are also some punctuation “rules”, varying on whether you’re writing American versus Japanese haiku. I’ve let those go – mood and two images in 17 syllables are challenge enough for this steampunk writer! 

Steampunk Escapade
Dawn breaks soot-stained clouds.
The airship’s sails billow, snap.
Adventure awaits.

Mad Science 1
Lamplight glints off brass.
Concealed laboratory
Hides gears, steam and dreams.

Mad Science 2
Test-tubes bubble, pop.
Emerald, violet, sapphire
Elixirs of change.

Jack
A gentleman strolls
Past London lamps and ladies.
Sleek gloves, hat, a knife

Changing Times
Our coach wheels rattle.
A steam carriage sputters past.
The horses rear, stamp.

Needs Oil
Whirring gears shriek, stop.
The clockwork butler collapses
Its brass face a blank.

On the Hunt
Dark, brickwork alley.
A curtain flutters and drops.
Inquiry agent lurks.

If you’re in San Jose, CA this Memorial Day, stop in at the Clockwork Alchemy steampunk convention. I’ll be typing free haikus for people on the spot. So be sure to come on over and say, “hi!”


A Midsummer Night's Mechanical (Sensibility Grey Series of Steampunk Suspense Book 3)
by Kirsten Weiss
Genre: Steampunk/suspense
Publisher: Misterio Press
May 1, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-944767-00-6
ASIN: B01DOKO6CA
Number of pages: 224
Word Count: 69,000
Cover Artist: Kirsten Weiss
A Midsummer Murder

The California Territory, 1849

Blamed for burning down the San Francisco wharf, clockwork inventor, Sensibility Grey has spent the last three months in hiding. Now all she wants is to depart the gold-crazy boomtown for a new life in the East. So when the owner of a traveling theater offers her work embellishing his mechanical stage, she turns him down. Then he turns up dead on her doorstep along with his enigmatic stage.

An explorer of the mysteries of aether, Sensibility has her own secrets to keep, and adversaries who’ll stop at nothing to learn them. Is the mechanical stage a part of a bigger game? Or the key to unlocking her true, magical potential?

A Midsummer Night’s Mechanical is book three in the Sensibility Grey series of steampunk suspense.


CHAPTER ONE
San Francisco, California Territory, June 1849.

Sensibility sat cross-legged upon her bed and tried not to think. She tried not to think of the ache where her stays pinched her back. She tried not to think of tomorrow’s journey across the American wilderness. She tried not to think about the clamor of banging drums and tootling fifes and—

“Oh, good gad!” She clenched her fist, pieces of quartz crystal biting into her flesh. Sensibility sprang from the bed and threw open the boarding house window. Oppressive heat, acrid from the nearby outhouse, rolled into the room. Wrinkling her nose, she leaned out over the fenced back yard and craned her neck. The afternoon sun streamed through the laundry, hanging limp on the line. From her position, she couldn’t see the street procession. But neither could she avoid hearing their blasted parade.

Something scuttled near her elbow, and she jerked away, slamming her head on the window frame. White pain arced through her skull.

A baby raccoon, not much larger than the palm of her hand, cowered on the other end of the narrow sill. It scrabbled, hunching into a tight ball, trapped on the high ledge.

“Ow.” She winced, rubbing her throbbing head and glad her chignon had taken the brunt of the blow. “How on earth did you get up here?”

The raccoon mewled.

“You shall have to make your own way home, for you cannot come inside. Mrs. Watson has a strict rule about animals inside her boarding house.”

Gently, so as not to disturb the creature, she shut the window. The raccoon peered over the ledge then looked at her, his expression plaintive.

Attempting to ignore the animal, she paced the denuded room, her brown skirts swishing.

They had ample space to swish. Nearly all her belongings lay compressed into a single carpetbag, set before the empty wardrobe. The bedroom had an air of abandonment.

Unsettled, Sensibility rattled the quartz crystals in her hand and glanced to the window.

The animal stared inside, forlorn.

She tugged at her collar. It was such a small thing. But rules were rules. “You found your way onto the ledge. You can find your own way down.”

Sensibility turned to the journal open on the desk. Her sketch of an unworldly creature she’d once encountered scowl from the page. Frowning, she slammed the book shut. It had been careless of her to have left it open. Strange, she couldn’t remember examining the journal before she’d gone downstairs to retrieve her luncheon.

The crystals pressed into her palm. She was so close to a breakthrough in aether technology, but the clues remained buried. Buried in the remains of her father’s last journal. Hidden in a journal from a traveling occultist. Scattered throughout her own notes and theories. One day soon, she would fit those pieces together. It was madness to hope she could solve that problem today.

Sensibility opened her hand and gazed at the quartz crystals. She’d mastered the use of aether to power small devices. But aether had other applications, such as distance control and distance vision. These applications eluded her. “There has to be a way…”

She glanced at the window.

The animal raised itself on its hind legs and pressed its tiny black paws to the glass.

Sensibility groaned. “I know I’ll regret this.” Pocketing the crystals, she opened the window.

The raccoon cowered.

“You,” she said, “being a wild animal, will attempt to bite me if I rescue you. But I will have none of it. I shall pick you up, I shall take you outside, and you shall neither bite nor scratch. Do you understand?”

In a swift motion, she grasped it by the scruff of the neck and lifted it inside. It writhed, and her grasp on it loosened.

She gasped. “Don’t….”

The raccoon dropped to her desk and shook its head. Whiskers twitching, it scuttled to her abandoned luncheon tray and made free with a bit of toast.


About the Author: 
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Kirsten Weiss worked overseas for nearly fourteen years, in the fringes of the former USSR and in South-east Asia. Her experiences abroad sparked an interest in the effects of mysticism and mythology, and how both are woven into our daily lives.

Now based in San Mateo, CA, she writes steampunk suspense and paranormal mysteries, blending her experiences and imagination to create a vivid world of magic and mayhem. Kirsten has never met a dessert she didn’t like, and her guilty pleasures are watching Ghost Whisperer re-runs and drinking red wine.

Sign up for her newsletter to get a free copy of the full length urban fantasy novel, The Alchemical Detective, and updates on her latest work at: http://kirstenweiss.com 


Tour giveaway 
Grandprize: ebook copies of The Sensibility Grey Three-Book set, and the entire Riga Hayworth series of seven urban fantasy novels. 
Second prize: ebook copies of The Sensibility Grey Three-Book Set

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Sunday, October 20, 2013

Horror Haiku for The Tightening Spiral by Tara Fox Hall

Finally! I have been waiting for someone brave enough to tackle the Horror Haiku feature! Tara Fox Hall just released her second collection of suspense and horror stories, The Tightening Spiral. Her first collection, Latham's Landing, was featured here earlier this week. She has written some haiku based on the stories in The Tightening Spiral along with an excerpt from the story "ChoosetheVictim.com". Check them out... My favorite is Let Me In, what is yours?


Horror Haikus for The Tightening Spiral

I admit, when I first decided to do this post, I thought maybe I’d gotten WAY out of my depth. I have written poetry, but never a successful haiku. But with a little brush up on what makes a haiku (three lines of 5-7-5 syllables are the “guidlenes”) I figured what could go wrong? So here are some horror haikus for selected stories from my upcoming horror and suspense short story anthology with Hazardous Press, called The Tightening Spiral. 

ChoosetheVictim.com

Five girls names offered
By a writer seeking fans
Good wet inspiration


The Prison

Man on a mission
To break others out of prison
Finds his plan has flaws


In the Night

Mother and Daughter
Enjoy hunting hitchhikers
Mom, your turn to gut.


Say Goodbye

Her child is missing
Every minute ticks faster
Eat the poison berries, son


The Bribe

A cold beach at night
Evil lurks under the pier
Coin for your silence.


The Lie

Stop social climber
With a spoken vague falsehood
In return? Bullets


Not Enough

Save a beloved bro
With a vampiric virus
Infect the whole town


Granma’s House

Girl alone hears noises
Thinks her dead grandparents are there
Gets a killer instead.


Black Smoke

Woman who sees smoke
Confronts her fear in the crypt
Smoke gets her anyway


Let Me In
Demon comes calling
Woman sells her soul for love
Finds she is not the only buyer


The Tunnel

Shelter for world war
Becomes a scene of murder
Something waits below


Cold Enough

Iceman seeks storage
To endure coming summer
Stops killer as bonus


Making Hay
Old bitch nags at him
Hired hand has had enough
Buries her in hay


Face Recognition

Failsafe directive
Sends robot on killing spree
No escape, human


The Memory of Trees

Streets are utterly silent
Pro-earths release mutagen
Don’t stand still too long


The Network

The social network
Everyone too busy to care
TakeUSBack.com


End of Days

Supernova bomb
Trek south to kids’ salvation
But Sam’s already changing


The Tightening Spiral
Tara Fox Hall’s second collection of short suspense and horror stories, ranging from novella to microfiction in length. Chock full of demons, serial killers, social climbers, zombies, activists, ghosts, and the occasional happy ending…of sorts.
Excerpt from ChoosetheVictim.com:
Stan stared at the letter on his glowing computer screen, furious. His newest work, My Victim, had been rejected. His editor said it “wasn’t horrifying enough” and had suggested a rewrite to “up the scare factor.” All his work with Kate—more on point, on her skin—had been for nothing. 

Resisting his urge to throw the laptop across the room, Stan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Destroying inanimate objects wouldn’t slack his rage. But destroying an animate one might. The key here was to gain not only some peace of mind, but also inspiration.

Stan opened another internet window, and typed in an address. His website came up: www.myvictim.com, the stark image of the survival knife shining with just a faint sheen of blood against the pristine white background.

He had tried several promotions in the last few months to encourage readers. Serial killer books were plentiful in small presses. He’d gotten a mixed response, until he’d decided to do some real life research and post some of his findings. But that small increase had been nothing when he’d invited his audience into the kill. Suddenly his inbox had been brimming with emails, all wanting to offer up victims they knew. As if he was an idiot! Stan was not going to be stupid. He’d come too far to be caught now.

Instead, Stan had launched a contest; Name My Victim. He had put in five random girl’s names, saying whomever got the most votes would be killed. He’d never thought to go through with it. But he’d gotten five hundred votes in the first ten minutes, five thousand total. At first, he had been thrilled so many people had responded with Katlyn. Luck and a little computer hacking had lead him to a girl called Kate. Then he had been worried that the coincidence would lead the police to his door. He needed a better method for choosing victims...

A Facebook notification popped into his email. Irritated, Stan went to delete it, then stopped cold. Here was the perfect place to find new victims. There wouldn’t be a trail on his computer for cops to find, because he wouldn’t need to hack anything; all the information was at his fingertips. All he would need to do was run his contest on his website…then choose a winner with a name like the most popular victim. There was a limitless supply of people with their entire lives online: where they ate, where they worked, how they lived. There were tons of pictures of their houses, their kids, their spouses, and their neighborhood. No address was posted usually, but enough clues to easily find one.

Sure, most people didn’t make all their info public. But he could always get a new email address, and build a new avatar. All he would have to do was make a study of those he wanted to kill. Once he knew a few of their interests, he could formulate an identity that would ensure his friend request would be accepted by his victim-to-be. Once he was in, he could get the info he wanted. Then would come the tantalizing wait for his readers to select that name from the list of choices.

God, this was going to be fun! Stan laughed aloud in glee, then began scanning random names by typing in letter combinations. There was no time to waste.

Tara Fox Hall’s writing credits include nonfiction, horror, suspense, erotica, and contemporary and historical paranormal romance. She also coauthored the essay “The Allure of the Serial Killer,” published in Serial Killers - Philosophy for Everyone: Being and Killing (Wiley-Blackwell, 2010). Her first full-length action-adventure novel, Lash, published in April 2012. Her vampire series begins in June 2012, with the 1st novel Promise Me. Tara divides her free time unequally between writing novels and short stories, chainsawing firewood, caring for stray animals, sewing cat and dog beds for donation to animal shelters, and target practice.
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