Book Review: The Splits by M.V. Clark

The Splits
(Personal Histories of Scott-Lapidot Disease from the Splits Archive)
Author: MV Clark
A psychological zombie novel

Reviewed by Ariel DaWintre

I was immediately attracted to this story with the tagline, “A psychological zombie novel.” I found this story kind of refreshing that it isn’t your typical zombie story it’s more of a cross between horror and sci-fi. I liked that the writer actually focuses on the medical side and what is causing the problem of zombieism.  A lot of the stories about zombies mention finding the cure but you never see them actually do that or even attempt. The characters are called Splits as that is what is happening to them from the inside and outside.

The story centers around two sisters and their families.  Claire and Anna have very different experiences and you follow their story from the onset to the final conclusion. Anna is a journalist and her journey gets her involved with interviewing people dealing with the outbreak. During all the trauma, she falls in love and gets married as life is going on around this outbreak like normal, but not normal. You never know who is going to come down with this disease and you’re never sure of the triggers. Anna’s story has many ups and downs. Claire’s journey with the disease is not as obvious at first, but her son Michael is not what he seems. However, he doesn’t seem to have the Splits either.

The story also follows a young woman named Lupe who starts out with her family being effected by the Splits and follows her journey of trying to explain it and solve it. I think she is great and analyses the outbreak while triying to fight the government and society. She tries to figure it out and come up with solutions.  I don’t really want to say more as it will give away the story.

The great part about this story is, I kept looking it up on Google to see if it was based on a true story. I could believe it was real because it wasn’t just a case of the whole world changing into zombies and only a few survivors. We get to see society going on like nothing is happening and that they are just dealing with an outbreak like the common cold. Great book!

Book Review: Deck Z: The Titanic Unsinkable Undead

“If the Titanic is going down, we’ll make sure this scourge sinks with it.” ~Captain Smith, Deck Z.

Deck Z: The Titanic Unsinkable Undead is a delightful tale about one of history’s most famous seagoing vessels.

As most everyone knows, the RMS Titanic sank in the early hours of April 15th, 1912 after colliding with an iceberg in the North Atlantic Ocean. More than 1,500 passengers died supposedly due to inadequate lifeboats and launching procedures. Many books and movies have been written about the unsinkable ship including the 1997 epic romance disaster flick starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet, but none quite like this.

In this fictional (?) novel, the authors offer up another scenario. What if the crash and subsequent loss of life was due to a zombie outbreak? The book opens with the introduction of Theodore Weiss, a doctor and scientist, working on a cure for a deadly plague that has three stages. In the first stage, the infected display flu-like symptoms. Next, a black discharge comes from their mouth, nose, and ears as the patient becomes more disoriented. The final third stage, the patients are in complete zombie mode as they are no longer able to communicate. They attack with reckless abandon and are often successful as their strength is hard to deny.

Although Weiss has been charged to find a cure, he has been unable to do it and flees the infected testing location with a small vial of the virus. Feeling his life is in danger from the German government, he flees on Titanic, hoping he’ll be safe in America. Little does he know an agent has followed him onboard. When the vial is loosed on board, the ship becomes infected and no one—not even the first class—are safe.

I really enjoyed the retelling of one of my favorite events in history. Captain Smith was an awesome driving force in this book leading a posse of armed men through the bare bowels of the ship, sword in hand. I enjoyed Captain Smith’s backstory and especially like the segment where they had to squeeze through a large blocked fan and then the zombies followed while the fan was running again.

“The dead descended on the living in their opulent staterooms. Former passengers from steerage feasted on the delicate-boned faces of ladies with hair piled high under feathered hats and pulled at limbs inside elegant French couture. Bankers with silver sideburns were yanked down from behind. Skulls were gnashed, and stylish topcoats were ripped apart.”

The beginning of this story is a tad slow, but it also keeps you guessing what will happen. Like you would expect in any zombietale, the disintegration toward the end happens quite quickly and the zombie battle is entertaining and suspenseful.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book and recommend it for zombie and Titanic fans alike. Now I wait patiently for someone to make it into a movie.

March Madness: The Splits by MV Clark

In honor of March Madness month, MV Clark has shared with us an excerpt of her novel, The Splits.

Can you keep out The Splits, or is it already inside you?

A global zombie plague known as ‘The Splits’ is kept under fragile control, but nobody feels safe.

Anna, a young journalist, fears she’s infected. She learns all she can about the disease, which brings her to the attention of Lupe – a maverick scientist working on an unconventional cure. As Anna discovers the secrets of the disease, her world begins to fall apart.

Meanwhile, what is going on with Anna’s sister Claire, and her strange little boy Michael?

“[The Splits] does all the things quality horror should do – builds suspense, delivers shocks and distorts everyday reality to great effect. And creates a creeping feeling that something is very very wrong.” Louise – amazon reviewer

“The story started with some grotesque and thrilling scenes, so I expected that it would be a clichéd zombie survival horror at the beginning. But it wasn’t! It was a good mixture of Western and Japanese horror with psychological horror. I enjoyed it so much!” Yuuki, Goodreads reviewer

Enjoy this excerpt from The Splits

2015 – Anna

I have a garden now, and often I sit there and think about how the plague began. The plants change from season to season – in spring there’s a mass of purple alliums, in summer there are dark red roses, in autumn, white anemones riot. But my favourite place is always on the weathered bench by the back wall, where the winter jasmine climbs. I sit and I recall 1969, the year the sickness started.

Patient zero was covered by the US section of the Sunday paper. Nobody realised who he was at the time. Schoolteacher Bites Pupil ran the headline, and the violent attack was given just one paragraph.

I didn’t pay much attention. It was just after my sister had her son Michael and whenever I saw them he was screaming. I was shocked by his perpetual misery and annoyed by Claire’s masochistic dedication. I wasn’t really concentrating on events overseas. I tossed the edition on a pile and forgot about it.

But the following week the paper devoted a whole page to the incident. According to the report, Mr Driscoll had been explaining genetic and chromosomal aberrations to his twelfth grade science class. Over the course of the lesson, an odd rash came up on his left eyelid. Mid-sentence, he tailed off and stared at the class as if he didn’t know where he was.

I did actually go to New York a while back, with Michael of all people, but in 1969 I’d never been. Thus, I tried to imagine what that day must have been like. It was February, so it would have been freezing outside. It might also have been raining – drumming on the glass, sluicing down the sidewalks. One of those dull, dark days when the light is just a tarnished silver trickle. Beautiful in its own way, but not much use when you’re in a school science lab, under that harsh fluorescent lighting so beloved of the education system, which makes everything look plastic.

The victim, a capable student called Tina Beneventi, asked Driscoll if he was okay. He looked frightened, “like he’d seen a ghost,” said students. Something startled him – not Tina – and he raised his arm as if warding off a blow.

But a moment later he lowered it, walked slowly out from behind his desk, and towards her. When he was close he cocked his head strangely. She described seeing ‘a bright light in his eye’.

He reached out and stroked her shoulder, which was bare. She flinched. He smiled, as if to reassure her. There was silence in the classroom.

Then, with the speed and precision of a striking snake, he seized her arm and bit it.

The other students, shocked into action, surged at the pair and pulled Driscoll away. One boy raised his arm ready to land a punch. At that moment, Driscoll’s left eye began to bulge and, to his pupils’ abject horror, the eyeball shot out of its socket, not unlike a champagne cork. It sat on his cheek for a moment, suspended by the optic nerve, then fell to the floor where it rolled under a cabinet.

Curiously, this seemed to snap him out of it. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and, spitting blood, mumbled an apology.

I was captivated, especially by the phrase ‘a bright light in his eye’. I cut the page out, retrieved the shorter piece from the previous week, and put them in a folder. But I won’t go over how I chose each cutting. I know the story so well I prefer to run through it in my own way rather than follow the zigzag of dawning comprehension that was my actual experience.

At first Tina displayed her usual resilience, but within hours she became agitated and took to her bed. Her parents assumed it was shock, a reaction to the trauma of being attacked by a trusted adult. When she complained about hard, numb patches on her hands and feet, they thought it was a side issue.

Driscoll was let out on bail with a bandage over his eye. He hired a prostitute, brought her back to his apartment and attacked her. They made so much noise a neighbour called the cops, but by the time they arrived the woman was dead. Back then the cause of death was considered unusual – he had buried his head in her stomach and eaten her organs. When they broke down the door they saw his head was caked with blood. The bandage was long gone and where the eye had been was just a black pit.

But there was something even grimmer. The infection had spread to the rest of his body and patches of raised, purplish skin were peeling away like bark, leaving angry red lesions. These gashes were weeping vast quantities of fluid – the floor was sticky with it. The rapid dehydration made him gaunt to the point of emaciation, and yet his strength was almost superhuman. It took ten officers to subdue him, two for each limb and two for his head.

There was concern for the state of the officers, but nobody expected the hooker to reanimate and murder a member of the forensics team. She gained entry to another apartment and killed the tenant, tearing out his stomach right in front of his girlfriend. The papers did not even try to explain it. Mystery of Injured Spree-Killer read one headline.

A day later the girlfriend was found feasting on a young intern in a bathroom cubicle at her place of work, the New York Bank of Ambrose. The alarm was raised but it was too late to stop the bizarre syndrome sweeping the building.

The police were first to respond. They quickly discovered nothing could stop the infected except a gunshot to the head. Even this was not completely reliable and often several rounds were required, but using this method they were eventually able to secure the area. By the time the crisis was contained seventy people had been taken away in body bags.

New York grieved for the wound inflicted on its oldest bank. Ambrose offered to fund six months of therapy for surviving staff, and after a while business resumed.

City, state and federal experts worked to determine the cause of the violence. Their initial finding was that it was down to a new kind of infectious illness outside all existing categories. One newsroom launched a serious investigation into the possibility that it came from outer space.

The attacks began again, all over the city now, carried out by the Beneventi family and by the same police and forensic staff that had dealt with Driscoll and the prostitute. This time there were nine separate clusters and that was it – before long there was a fully fledged epidemic. Throughout the summer it spread down the East Coast, through the Carolinas and Georgia and into the South.

I live in London, always have done. At the time I was working for a local newspaper, The Haringey Tribune. I was twenty-three and a senior reporter. I went to court cases, council meetings, road accidents and police briefings. I knocked everywhere from the huge gated mansions of Bishop’s Avenue – Millionaire’s Row as it was known – to the flimsy modular front doors of Broadwater Farm, a high-rise housing estate inspired by utopian ideas about ‘streets in the sky’. I liked the job. My mind was quick and my work was appreciated.

The tiny salary allowed me to rent a studio flat on the ladder roads near Harringay Green Lanes, an area at that time notable for its Greek Cypriots. The room came with a worn-out brown sofa bed, a surprisingly deep and comfortable armchair, also brown, a grimy kitchenette and a shared bathroom. I did my best to beautify it with pot plants and ornaments from jumble sales. I had read somewhere that peacock feathers were bad luck, but I put three in an empty wine bottle and stood them on the sideboard.

The flat was no palace but two things redeemed it. First, its closeness to my sister Claire and her family – just a twenty minute walk.

Second, a big bay window overlooking the tree-lined road as it sloped down to Green Lanes. By late afternoon the sun would be at the perfect angle to throw gold squares on the walls, which shimmered and streamed as if the light had passed through deep waters. I loved to sit in my armchair with my feet up and gaze at the street while the glimmering parallelograms slid slowly across the room. At such moments, even on a cold day, the air in the flat would feel hot and still.

I remember vividly the moment I realised the disease was coming here. It was August and the flat was genuinely hot. I was sitting in the armchair drinking iced lime cordial. It was too early for the streaming squares of light and I’d pulled the blind halfway down to keep the sun out of my eyes. I picked up the newspaper and the front page story was the disappearance of Heathrow-bound BA502, which had crashed in the middle of the Atlantic after a crazed passenger went on the rampage.

It was obvious why the passenger was crazed. And if a sick person could board a plane to the UK once then they could again. Sooner or later the disease would arrive on our tiny, insignificant shores.

We had all seen an infected by then, in photos or on the TV. We knew how the sickness was transmitted and its appalling course. For a while after you were bitten – minutes or even hours – you might act fine, look fine, feel fine. But eventually you began to change. Nobody knew what it felt like from the inside because nobody had recovered to tell the story. There was only one end – a perpetual half-death, your mind gone and your body disintegrating as you hungered for the flesh of the living.

Yet despite months of investigations nobody knew what caused it. No new virus or bacteria had been isolated from any of the bodies.

I remember looking down into the street at the people walking past. An old man with a flat cap. Two girls with secretive smiles on their faces. A young guy with a barely there moustache. I shivered and uttered a silent prayer for them. I hoped they would do the same for me.

After that a restrained panic spread through the population. Sales of gas masks, knives and bludgeoning sticks soared, as did home security enhancements of all kinds. But nobody took to the streets. Nobody went on strike over something that was so obviously an act of God.

Then came a cold winter and the first attack on British soil. It took place at the 29 bus stop in Wood Green, a patch I reported on for The Trib. I wrote the following story:

Flesh-eating OAP Arrested

A woman was bitten on the face and neck as she waited for a bus.

Donald Carey, 72, of Lordship Lane, was arrested and charged with the attempted murder of Katie Logan, 23, of Hewitt Avenue, who is in Chase Farm Hospital in a critical condition.

Charlie Coombes, 18, of Lyndhurst Road, rescued Miss Logan. He said: “I noticed [Carey] because he was swaying in the middle of the pavement and something was dripping down his legs.

“He was staring, then he went for her, making a horrible gargling noise. He was eating her. There was blood everywhere, I got covered in it. He was strong, after we got him off her we had to keep hold or he would have gone for us.”

Police say Miss Logan and Carey are unknown to each other. They are seeking to establish if Carey had recently been in the US. Doctors say Miss Logan will have permanent scars.

For the UK the infection started there, at the 29 bus stop in Wood Green. At first authorities used the vernacular US term for the disease – the Frenzy. Then it was called severe scleroderma desolati – ‘scleroderma’ for hardening of the tissues and ‘desolati’ for melting. Neither term caught on with the general public. In 1982 it was officially named Scott–Lapidot Disease after two US scientists who isolated the particle thought to cause it.

But the name most of us used took its inspiration from the leaking crevices that opened up in the skin as the infection took hold. It was homegrown and informal, and thoroughly British. The Splits.


MV Clark grew up in London. She worked in journalism for 18 years. Her writing has appeared in The Guardian newspaper, and Museums Journal and Spirit and Destiny magazines. The Splits is her first novel. She lives in West Sussex with her husband and two children.

Morbid Meals Holidaze – Eating Your Way Through the Zpoc


The holidays are a wonderful time to get together with family and friends, but it is also a time of chaos. Imagine what would happen if during all of the holiday’s sales a zombie apocalypse occurred? That would be a very Black Friday, indeed. Surviving the Zpoc would be a whole new level of Holidaze. The thought of Pumpkin Spice Zombies frightens me more than anything.

When dealing with zombies and other apocalypses, one thing that I find is often missing is a discussion of keeping yourself fed. Sure, weapons and shelter are important. Fighting off hunger and thirst is crucial however to keep fighting off the undead hordes.

Thankfully, at this wonderful time of the year, we now have two excellent cookbooks and survival guides catering to the zombie apocalypse. It might come as a surprise that they were both written by the same author. The Walking Dead: The Official Cookbook and Survival Guide just came out this October. The same author, Lauren Wilson, also wrote The Art of Eating Through the Zombie Apocalypse: A Cookbook and Culinary Survival Guide in 2014, which I lovingly call the Zpoc Cookbook.

Both are reliable resources that read like experienced prepper’s guides. Both have thorough chapters on improving our survival skills. They aren’t gimmicks, either. I think even the Boys and Girls Scouts would learn a thing or two. Les Stroud would be proud.

The included recipes differ dramatically, however. The Walking Dead Cookbook’s recipes are inspired primarily by characters and locations from the series. (Like Carl’s Chocolate Pudding or The Kingdom’s Breakfast Cobbler.) The Zpoc Cookbook, however, has more relatable recipes but with the usual campy names. (Like The Wok-ing Dead Stir-Fry and Wasteland Cupcakes.)

In many ways, the TWD Cookbook is an updated version of the Zpoc Cookbook. The chapter structure is a bit more organized and it simplifies a few concepts. It is also, of course, packed full of references to the characters of the TV show.

One thing that the TWD cookbook has that the other lacks is a whole chapter on alcoholic beverages. The Zpoc Cookbook does have a recipe for a mead, which would be excellent for barter, but that’s it. Conspicuously absent from both is a classic Zombie recipe, though TWD has a killer drink called The Walker which looks tasty. TWD also describes how to make mead. I think they both missed the opportunity for more instructions on how to make other boozes.

For example, I was at first excited to see the recipe for Cherry Moonshine in the TWD, but this is actually just how to take Everclear and fortify it with cherry syrup. Tasty for other cocktails, true, but learning basic distillation, like say to make applejack, would be a useful skill. (Yes, distillation is still illegal in most places, but during the apocalypse, I think prohibition is going to be the least of anyone’s worries.) Distilling alcohol can be useful as a way to make fuel as well, which will be handy in a post-apocalyptic gas shortage. For that matter, distilling water would be a vital skill, but while the Zpoc briefly mentions a solar still, the TWD only discussed boiling and filtration.

While both books do cover fishing and hunting and recipes for such wild game that you might catch (each has a squirrel recipe, for example), neither cookbook heavily features recipes using the food you have foraged, grown, or preserved yourself. There was one recipe in TWD Cookbook for chocolate chunk cookies that does make use of applesauce, and later provides a recipe for making and preserving your own applesauce for stocking up during harvest season. However, the majority of the recipes assume you have a decently stocked pantry and icebox and that you are willing to use your rations. For example, I think you’d be hard-pressed to sacrifice eggs and milk to make a homemade batch of chocolate pudding rather than stock up on canned chocolate pudding. I’m sure Carl would understand.

I was pleasantly surprised that neither cookbook resorts to parody recipes or kitschy Halloween gimmicks, and thank goodness for no recipes featuring brains or “long pig”. If you would like that kind of thing, you can find my take on The Walking Dead Terminus Tavern “Human Burger” recipe here on Horror Addicts to try. But I digress.

The Walking Dead Cookbook is an excellent coffee table cookbook. The Art of Eating Through the Zombie Apocalypse is a standard paperback size which would be more practical in a Bug-Out-Bag. They would both be fun gifts this holiday season. Really the question is are you a fan of The Walking Dead or a zombie fan in general? I think The Art of Eating Through the Zombie Apocalypse may be the better resource, and it is less expensive if that matters. Both books have Kindle versions available. If you can’t decide, you can always buy both, like I did.

As Lauren says in The Walking Dead Cookbook, “Living or dead, there’s one thing that unites us all—hunger.” During the zombie apocalypse, holiday gatherings with your family, friends, and fellow survivors will mean more than ever.

It Came From the Vault: New Year’s Resolutions Are for Everyone, Even the Undead by Heather Roulo


How are your Resolutions coming along? In this short Guest Blog I found in the Vault, by Heather Roulo.  A Resolution’s list fit for a zombie!

New Year’s Resolutions Are for Everyone, Even the Undead

by Heather Roulo

The holidays are tough. Even being undead doesn’t put an end to the stress and expectations. So, for the New Year, I’m posting my resolutions. If I can stick to them, so can you!

  1. Diet & Exercise: I haven’t been feeling myself. I’m sluggish and my figure has suffered. From now on, it’s quality food all the way: Human brains, no more animal brains no matter how tempting they look. And the new pedometer I found ensures I’ll shuffle at least 5,000 steps a day. Gotta keep going while I have two good legs, especially since the left one is looking a little soggy.
  2. Reevaluate What I’m Doing with my Undead Existence: This is all we get. At any time, an angry mob, accidental avalanche, or something pointy could come along and I’d be finished walking this earth for real this time. I didn’t like it when my life flashed before my eyes the first time, so my undead life needs to be full and rich, because re-runs are never as good.
  3. Take A Trip: I can’t remember the last time I took a vacation just to see the world. Flying is out, since they locked down all the airports, but it doesn’t seem to have stopped others of my kind from reaching every corner of the earth. With a little determination I can hitch a ride on some survivor’s RV and truly explore nature.
  4. Manage Stress: It’s always fight and hunt, hunt and fight around here. When does a zombie get to just relax? And even when I get the chance, it’s hard to chill when the rest of the horde is getting ahead. But I need to find me time. There’s nothing more peaceful than a deep dark hole, and I’m resolved to dig myself a nice one.
  5. Manage Debt & Save Money: I have totally cut my addiction to credit cards and hardly spend a dime anymore, but somehow creditors continue to hound me. I’ve eaten a few, but it’s never as much fun when they’re chasing you. A little more fiscal responsibility and maybe I can pay off those debts and get them off my back.
  6. Improve my Knowledge & Learn a New Skill: With time, people change. I definitely have interests I’d never have considered a few years back: anatomy, the mechanics of doorknobs, and easy solutions to barbed wire, to name just a few. I’m thinking there must a school, or class, or maybe an online course I can take. If not, I’ll figure it out. Maybe I’ll write a book, because if I’m confused then others are too.
  7. Participate more in my Community and Give Back: Charity begins at home. When I have a lot, you know I share. My hole is your hole. My brains… Stay away from my brains.

And I’m going to take a minute to congratulate myself on last year’s resolution to Drink Less & Smoke Less. My new fear of fire really cut back on the smoking, and alcohol is tasteless. I can’t get drunk, and rarely experience social anxiety anymore. I can’t remember the last mixer I attended. It’s true, that if you avoid situations where you’re used to drinking, you fall out of the habit. Sure, others might say I take a swish now and again, but it’s medicinal. It clears the moss off my teeth.

Times keep changing, but it’s funny how resolutions aren’t that different no matter who you are. So, keep me honest and ask me, next year, how the diet went.

************* 123, Season Finale Alexandra Christian, Destini Beard, After Dark Films


Horror Addicts Episode# 123

Horror Hostess: Emerian Rich & Camellia Rains

Intro Music by: Valentine Wolfe


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12 days till halloween

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Discounted Tickets for Horror Addicts – The San Francisco Dungeon ZOMBIE Wicked Wednesday

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Zombie Adventure / Wicked Wednesday

Discounted Tickets

For Horror Addicts!

October 21st, 2015


October heralds the return of Miss Piggott, a saloon owner who may or may not run a little shanghaiing business on the side. She’s been away looking for some new pretty little waiter girls for her saloon, but rumors of Jack the Ripper have been driving away business. Miss Piggott may pop up to do some reconnaissance with special pub appearances, and is coming back to the Dungeon for Halloween, plying visitors with all new tricks and treats October 1 – 31.

Meanwhile, not all is well on the waterfront – Dr. Q Albus Fine’s attempted plague cure has resurrected San Francisco’s dead! In a thrilling one-time event, zombies take over the San Francisco Dungeon for Wicked Wednesday on October 21st. The Zombie Club will also be on-site at 7 PM to help with make-up for guests interested in being zombified.

Click here to buy tickets!

PiggottNoText 112, Horror Addicts Guide to Life

ha-tagHorror Addicts Episode# 112

Horror Hostess: Emerian Rich

Intro Music by: Valentine Wolfe

writer’s workshop winner | lacuna coil | frankenstein: the true story

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201 days till halloween

malcolm stewart, jesse orr, kathy bates, misery, stephen king, american horror story, hotel,  addict on the street, the walking dead, talking dead, salem, izombie, dan shaurette, lady gaga, poltergeist, jurassic world, mad max, fury road, unfriended, kbatz, kristin battestella, frankenstein: the true story, horror addicts guide to life, baycon, once upon a scream, laurel anne hill, j malcolm stewart, sumiko saulson, heather roulo, david watson, the undying, ethan reid, zombie, plague, top five, mimielle, makeup, vids, dj pitsiladis, nightmare fuel, werewolves, wisconsin, morbid meals, dan shaurette, berry fool, april fools, free fiction friday, emerian rich, dark soul, dawn wood, music corner, lacuna coil, swamped, jesse orr, grant me serenity, black jack, dead mail, nadine, writing, james, how to get on the show, sandra, zombie movies, scared of the dark, marc vale, advice, horror writer, inspiration, murderer, victim, jesse orr, genesis



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Free Fiction Friday: Dracula’s Dilemma by Dean Farnell

Dracula’s Dilemma

A Poem by Dean Farnell

Dracula attended the local dance

He wanted a girl and takes a chance

He nibbles her neck to woo his mate

The girl got wise and he bites too late.


Dracula’s night Is a complete disaster

He’s so used to being a passion master

His charm and poise to claim a lover

Came to an end when she blew his cover.


In his quest for blood he becomes more mellow

He throws his cape round a nice young fellow

Excuse me chap I’m not being rude

If I can’t get a girl then you will do.


deanDean Farnell writes quirky songs, & poetry, mainly paranormal / horror themed as a bit of fun. The songs are recorded in one single take so are raw demos in affect but have still been played on over 600 various radio stations and podcasts all over the world. He currently has 8 tracks In the TuneVibe Top 1000 Indie Chart top 10 including a number one record which has been there for over a year. His poems have been published in Paranormal /Horror mags which include: SCREAM MAGAZINE, TREMBLES MAGAZINE, THE WHITE CROW MAGAZINE, SNM POETRY, DAILY DOSE OF HORROR, SPOOK CITY, GHOST VOICES MAGAZINE, HEARSE-SAY MAGAZINE, BLACK PETAL, and DEAD OF NIGHT TALES. One of his songs titled “Ghost On The Stairs” is mentioned in the book “Rock & Roll Ghost Stories”. One Track “Friday The 13th” has been played on BBC Radio. Angie Bowie (David Bowies Wife) , & Karl Beattie of Living TV & Most Haunted , have all commented how much they have enjoyed his songs. The songs are available on itunes, Tesco, amazon, and Songcast.

Zombie Book Sample from Steve Mix

Zombie author, Steve Mix, has given us a sneak peek from his vampire sequel to Goodbye from the Edge of Never.
The new book is titled: Deep Cuts from the Edge of Never.


Pavarotti. Pavarotti was the only real way I could explain it right now. It wasn’t much of an explanation. It wasn’t much of anything.

I stood there, smelling copper and biting flesh. Tasting the song of life that gushed forth and into my being. I felt Luciano Pavarotti, holding a long bassy note, its tone echoing off the walls of every opera house in the world before depositing that energetic burst right here, into my being.

I’m standing in an alleyway devouring the face of a transient but somehow, I hear Luciano Pavarotti echoing into the world. The music, I’m feasting on, becomes weak and then tastes acrid. Death and infection are taking hold. It no longer tastes like song. Letting go, I threw aside the spasming man and stepped back to watch him struggle violently with his fate. The dark shadows of the alley grew, surrounded by the fading sunlight of the world. I didn’t know how long I had stared. Just that the man was now standing before me swaying slightly, parts of his cheek and neck ripped away. I couldn’t take my eyes off the large gashes and blood stained clothes. The street lights kicked on, and I needed to be somewhere else. Turning away, I stepped away from the alley. The newly dead man followed. A few steps later I spun around to face him under a streetlight. The man swayed and looked back with hollow eyes. Another step away and the man stepped forward again.

goodbyefromtheedgeofneverblurbThis was new! There is two of us. Car tires squealed, and Pavarotti’s note echoed past. I followed the scent of it down the street. None of this made sense to me. The note grew louder as something danced in my lungs. The man behind me lumbered along. I could hear him sniffing the air. He’d found the note too. There was clearly something here. We trampled an old flowerbed, sprinting across a parking lot until we finally found the source of the night’s music. Bright floodlights angled down, piercing the darkness. Shades of deep green and earthy browns filled my vision from somewhere.  Is that applause? What is this?

A softball game?

Middle-aged men sprinted around the bases. From the stands, someone shouted frustration. After a minute of running someone slid into a base and the flexing movement of the crowds cheering and jeering settled down as we approached a chain link fence on the darkened side of the field.

People passed around hot dogs. Some tugged at shared blankets and dug out sweaters from backpacks. Others argued over stats and teams as they watched the players face challenges from the field below their bleacher seats. The song is coming off the crowd. You can feel it. You can smell it. You can taste it. It is life and technology breaking through the darkness. Somehow these things are finding beauty and excitement. A moment of safety, which the universe rarely knows. It is all so beautiful and hey…

Where the fuck is he going?

The newly turned undead had climbed the chain link and began sprinting across the field towards the game. Doesn’t this asshole realize I found them first. -This- is my song, not his.

Spitting and hissing, I climbed up the chain link. It’s difficult to scale a fence when you’re no longer fully conscious of how your legs feel.

I began chasing after my newly turned friend we found ourselves running into the lights of the field. We shuffled towards the shocked players. The crowd laughed at first. I suppose we looked amusing. Two strange individuals with obvious muscle control issues. The smell of the song engulfed us both and our steps became more sure-footed as our engine gathered steam. The right fielder approached asking if we needed help, inviting me to leap first, sinking my teeth into the man’s face. Drinking deep of the song, I glanced up to see the crowd screaming and scattering off the benches. Some holding their place behind cell phone cameras, others throwing objects in our direction. My friend leapt at the player swinging a bat in his direction. Amateur hour in the land of the dead. The newbie dusted himself off pounced again, finding his proper place on top of the batter’s struggling form. I hadn’t realized it, but I had left the field and was running towards the people rushing  out of the bleachers. Vaulting over the dugout chain link and clacking my teeth, I found myself between two people. A teenage girl and an overweight middle aged man. First-world undead-problems. Both have their arms up between them defensively, frozen in fear. Their eyes are pleading for safety. Hey, that fat guy has a beard and looks like Pavarotti. In fact, he tastes like Pavarotti should!

Police and fire sirens rang out. Smoke wafted through as I chased neon lights. The song carried me up one street and down another. The feeling intensified. Sometimes I snapped a chunk of flesh from the masses. Other moments, I snapped my teeth and hissed a warning, culling the crowd. Shoving it away from me, and into some newly minted friends. They’re forms screeching delight while rending flesh.

I remember standing next to a muscle bound, fresh faced undead man as he roared rage and destruction. He was probably still slightly pumped from steroids and protein shakes. A second later he was cut down by a hail of gunfire.

I bet he misses the gym.

It turns out old ladies don’t seem so old when the song found them. I observed one wearing a blue wig screaming, gnashing her teeth and climbing a street light to leap through a second-floor window.

Suddenly I was up on a roof watching a mass of undead tumble down a chimney like they were Santa Claus chasing the holiday spirit. Such a clatter.

A flash shuffles past, and I’m sprinting up a wide street, leaping up and onto a windshield. My fists are hammering down, trying to unleash the music hiding inside of the parked car. The glass flexes and resembles the white pattern of a spider’s web before shattering. The screams surrounding me are pulsing with excitement.

I could hear the beat of chopper blades long before I felt the whiz of bullets. By this time, though, our mass was pulsing into and through buildings. Smashing windows and splintering wood wherever we found it. Sometimes we were beaten back… But the band played on. The night belted out hit tunes, and as it turns out, I loved to dance.

Electricity surged somewhere. I’m screaming at the moon while struggling to hold a man beneath my knuckles. My brothers and sisters latch on and begin the process of ripping him apart. I have never felt so powerful. The world has never felt so right. Confidence is trampling through here. Enlightening the masses. Liberating a beat.

I might be dead, but I have never felt so alive. Another blink and I’m standing in the seats of Yankee Stadium, just up from the third base line, gnashing my teeth into a man wearing a security jumper.

Hey, look at me! I’m in Yankee Stadium! I made it to the big show!


559784_10151658407348196_258546377_nThis has been a sample chapter from Steven Mix’ second book, due out later this year.
Steven Mix’ first book, Goodbye from the Edge of Never is available now at Amazon.

Morbid Meals – Zombie Punch


Over eighty years later, the undead grandfather of tiki cocktails, the Zombie, is still quite popular today.

Created by legendary mixmaster Don the Beachcomber in 1934, the original Zombie Punch was a closely guarded trade secret in his day. Because of this, it is one of the most replicated, often poorly so.

It was painstakingly researched by “Beachbum” Jeff Berry, and detailed in his excellent book, Beachbum Berry’s Sippin’ Safari. SippinSafari_cover


Makes one 12 oz drink


3/4 oz fresh lime juice
1/2 oz Falernum
1 1/2 oz gold Puerto Rican rum
1 1/2 oz aged dark Jamaican rum
1 oz 151-proof Lemon Hart Demerara Rum
2 tsp white grapefruit juice
1 tsp cinnamon syrup*
1 tsp Grenadine
dash Angostura Bitters
6 drops (1/8 tsp) Pernod or Herbsaint
3/4 cup crushed ice

Cinnamon syrup

3 cinnamon sticks
1 cup sugar
1 cup water


  • Blender
  • Tall chimney/zombie glass (or anything that can hold at least 12 oz total)
  • Saucepan with lid (to make your own cinnamon syrup)


Cinnamon syrup
  1. In your saucepan, crush or grind the cinnamon sticks. Add the sugar and water.
  2. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly until the sugar is dissolved.
  3. Reduce the heat, cover the saucepan, and simmer for 2 more minutes.
  4. Remove the saucepan from heat and let it sit for 2 hours, with the lid still on.
  5. Once finally cooled, strain the mixture into a bottle or jar. This syrup can last a month in the fridge.
The Zombie
  1. Put all of the ingredients into your blender.
  2. Flash blend on high speed for about 5 seconds.
  3. Pour into a tall zombie glass. (Yes, the glass is named after the drink!)
  4. Garnish with a fresh sprig of mint.


The only thing harder than avoiding a hangover from this drink may be the acquisition of the vital ingredients. Unless you’ve been knocked out from too many zombies (drinks or undead, as the case may be), you may have noticed it ain’t 1934 anymore.

The cinnamon syrup is hard to find, and when found, it can be very expensive. Luckily it is easy to make. If you find one you like, you can of course use it and skip the procedure above to make it.

Falernum is another tricky one. This is a ginger-lime syrup from the West Indies. This can also be made at home, but it uses many ingredients and is more complex than a simple syrup. I’d recommend buying this one rather than making it yourself.

Finally, the 151-proof Lemon Hart Demerara Rum. Gasp, a name-brand! A hard one to find in the states, as well. This is considered the real secret of the original Zombie. No other rum can match its smoky, rich, sweet flavor. If you cannot find it, all is not lost. You could substitute another top shelf dark 151 proof rum and mix in a 1/2 tsp of molasses. Then maybe you can pretend that approximates the flavor, but you’ll likely be so drunk you probably won’t notice or care.


The warning at the bar used to be that you would only be allowed TWO of these. That’s how mind-numbing the concoction is. The fruit juices deceptively hide the very potent rums.

Zombie Lust by Dean Farnell

Zombie Lust

by Dean Farnell

My flesh Is falling off all I did was cough

I’ve never felt as ill as this before

My lips have all gone blue, I don’t know what to do

I thought I’d rest in peace forever more.

I’m feeling rather peckish humans are my fetish

I’ll see If I can find some in the park

I’ll pass on KFC and pizzas not for me

I fancy feasting on a human heart.

I was peaceful in my grave but now I misbehave

I’m chasing girls and scaring everyone

I’m like a man possessed, I’m lusting after flesh

This zombie lark is really quite good fun.


deanDean Farnell writes quirky songs, & poetry, mainly paranormal / horror themed as a bit of fun. The songs are recorded in one single take so are raw demos in affect but have still been played on over 600 various radio stations and podcasts all over the world. He currently has 8 tracks In the TuneVibe Top 1000 Indie Chart top 10 including a number one record which has been there for over a year. His poems have been published in Paranormal /Horror mags which include: SCREAM MAGAZINE, TREMBLES MAGAZINE, THE WHITE CROW MAGAZINE, SNM POETRY, DAILY DOSE OF HORROR, SPOOK CITY, GHOST VOICES MAGAZINE, HEARSE-SAY MAGAZINE, BLACK PETAL, and DEAD OF NIGHT TALES. One of his songs titled “Ghost On The Stairs” is mentioned in the book “Rock & Roll Ghost Stories”. One Track “Friday The 13th” has been played on BBC Radio. Angie Bowie (David Bowies Wife) , & Karl Beattie of Living TV & Most Haunted , have all commented how much they have enjoyed his songs. The songs are available on itunes, Tesco, amazon, and Songcast.

Zombie Fiction: Numantia by Patricia Court


by Patricia Court 

Scipio’s siege on our city will end today.  We are all in agreement, even as Roman ballista balls and crossbow bolts continue to smash the last of the thatched roofs of our houses, to pound Numantia into dust.  No more starvation.  No more disease.  No more humiliation.

I find my best friend kneeling in front of her house, eyes turned toward the sky, watching for a winged goddess who will never come.  As I open my mouth to call out, she lifts her husband’s falchion to her throat.  The blade slices.  I race down the rubble-filled street and reach her just as her body stops convulsing.  I kneel, cradle her head in my arms, whisper her name.  Will we meet again?  Will our souls be together even if my body still walks?

The pebble facade of her house cracks in the heat of a fire inside.  The bodies of her husband and child lie in the flames.  She belongs there, too, but I’m so weak I can’t even drag her emaciated remains to the pyre.

I know I should cry, but most of my friends are dying this way today.  And I envy them.  They’ve chosen freedom.  And if the Numantine curse strikes them, and their corpses walk…  There’s nothing to be done about that.

Nothing to be done.

Except to get their bodies to the fire.  Ashes cannot walk.

The first corpse walked shortly after Avarus’ ill-advised attempt to make peace with Scipio, the Roman general.  We killed Avarus and his party for their treachery.  And we did not burn their remains.  And that night, the body of his younger brother rose, hungry for our flesh.  The curse of the Numantines had returned after so many generations.

My husband appears at the corner.  His tunic is in tatters, and the bite on his shoulder festers.  He holds out a piece of raw flesh.

Another volley of stones and darts rains down.  I abandon my best friend and run through the onslaught to the cobbled step where my husband stands.  I don’t ask him whose liver it is.  I take it and sink my teeth in.

It’s rotten.  My stomach tries to retch.  I haven’t eaten in a week.  My body longs for the meat, even as my mind and throat rebel.

The traitorous ambassador wasn’t the only one to rise.  The curse spread soon after, when hunger forced some in our powerful city to eat our fallen brothers and sisters.  There is no way to know who carries the curse, until the corpse rises.  And if you’ve eaten the tainted flesh, your corpse will rise, too.

I had always resisted eating human flesh until now.  I had preferred starvation.

The first bite stays down.  I look at my husband, and nod.  He wraps his arm around me, and we walk together toward the gate.  I throw away the rest of the liver.

More fires burn now.  That’s good.  Perhaps they will cremate our dead.  Perhaps those who died today will be spared.

During the siege, we successfully herded five of our walking dead outside our walls.  I was there for the last one.  He chased me up the central street.  He bit my husband, who was trying to keep him on course for the city gate.  I climbed through a window into a house by the gate and the dead man I had admired as a great warrior shambled outside our wall, inside the wall that Scipio built to surround our city.  And then, he just circled between the walls until the Roman crossbows sliced him to pieces.  Five cursed corpses, and not a single one managed to bite a Roman.  Not one.

There are only a few hundred of us assembled by the gate, all dressed in rags, most bloody.  We smell like the dead.

The gate opens.  Beyond, the Roman wall blocks the view of our precious, rolling landscape.  The towers go silent.  We stagger outside and assemble.

An old Roman with an entourage strides up to us.  Is this Scipio?  Is this the man who so feared us that he burned our fields, slaughtered our goats, planted spikes in our river, and walled us inside our own city to starve instead of facing our woefully outnumbered warriors honorably on the field of battle?

Scipio looks into our eyes, and hesitates.  What does he see?  Does he somehow sense our plan?

Scipio speaks to a man beside him.  I never learned their language.  They nod, and look back at us.  Other Roman soldiers laugh and cheer, but Scipio and his lieutenant — there is fear behind their eyes.

Does Scipio know?  Can this depraved man sense that this is not a surrender, but an attack?

Everyone here has either been bitten or has consumed the tainted flesh.  We all carry the curse.  And now, we will inflict the curse of the Numantines on the Romans.

When we die, our corpses will rise.  We will be scattered behind Roman walls.  We will be inside their cities.  Some of us will be in Rome itself.

Roman captives and slaves don’t live very long.

And when we die, Numantia will rise again, devouring Rome from the inside.


Patricia Court lives in Fresno, California, with several bottles of good merlot.

This Darkness Light review by D.J. Pitsiladis

unnamedHello Horror Addicts! This is D.J. Pitsiladis with a review of “This Darkness Light” by Michaelbrent Collings. It is a story about an apocalypse at the outset, one in which normal everyday people are turned into horrific creatures for a short period of time before they die off. The story starts out with a man waking from a coma without any memories of who he is, how he got to the hospital, or even why he is there. A glance at his chart lists his injuries as multiple gunshot wounds, but doesn’t feel as bad as he should after a trauma like that. He’s vaguely able to recall that he has a mission, and that he needs to go to Kansas immediately. He doesn’t know anything else except that it is important for his mission. As an assassin enters the man’s room and stares in shock at the John Doe in the bed before he aims a silenced gun at him. As this is going on, a nurse arrives for her shift and discovers every one of her co-workers on her floor executed. She enters John Doe’s room and provides enough of a distraction for the injured man to subdue and kill the assassin. They escape the hospital, but are just as quickly hunted by an assassin named Isaiah, a former priest, who is blackmailed into chasing them by a shadow organization within the government in order to save the world.

I found this a very hard book to put down. It started like it might be a zombie style story, but just as quickly changed to a mixture of Stephen King’s “The Mist” and the 1989 movie “Leviathan”. The priest’s story was well-played out as the man who believes he is so unworthy that he tries to make things right by eliminating people who he knows for sure are abusive to other people. The back story on why is a well told story and very believable. The way John Doe’s character is painted keeps up just enough of a mystery to keep you wondering who he is and what his mission is. The nurse is a tag along who helps John in a couple of instances, but feels more like just a damsel in distress to be rescued. It read through good and very enthralling, but the ending just felt a bit anti-climactic. Up to that point, I thought it was a great read. My ranking is 3.75 out of 5.

Until next time, fellow addicts…


British & European Horror News – Episode 69.

FrightFest announce three Halloween all-nighters and the annual Glasgow event:

Classic Horror Campaign’s latest double bill:

Survive the zombie horde! 2.8 Hours Later:

Horror Gaming: Rise of Nightmares

This new video game from Sega reminds me so much of one my husband loved playing back in the old PC days – Killing Time. The music and setting is very reminiscent of it. If you ever played Killing Time, or just enjoy a good zombie killing, check this out.

Rise of Nightmares heightens the horror experience like never before, forcing you to use your whole body against your enemies. Using cutting-edge technology, you will be trapped in a nightmare-world of zombies, monsters and hellish scientists – the only way out is to fight. The nightmare will rise exclusively on Kinect for Xbox 360 on September 6, 2011.

For more information visit

September/October Events

September 3rd / Latextacy: Ultra Glam Fetish Fantasy Ball/ Montreal Canada / As part of the Montreal Fetish Weekend, this is a group of fetish performers, models and designers presenting a wild night of interactive entertainment. Some of the performers include: Jean Bardot, The Rubber Sisters, Ophelia Overdose and Steffy the Rubber Doll. For more information go to:

September 7th / The Viscerex Compex Tour/ Chicago Ill. / The Viscerex Complex Tour kicks off in Chicago at the Abbey Pub. Bands on the bill for this tour include: Android Lust, Roughhausen and I Parasite. All of these bands are progressive experimenters with sound and will leave no audience unscathed. For more information go to:

October 1st-2nd  / Horror Weekend / Gatlinburg Tennessee / This is a first year horror con that includes vendors and celebrities including Heather Langenkamp, Amanda Wyss and Tony Todd. There will also be a scream queen competition a costume contest, an independent filmmakers area and a midnight showing of Repo! The Genetic Opera hosted by Ogre.  For more information go to:

October 1st-2nd / Nashville Comic and horror fest / Nashville Tennessee / Events at this con include a zombie beauty contest, a zombie 5k race, a horror film festival and appearances by Eric Layton who created the Grim Ghost and Brian Pulido who created Lady Death and Evil Ernie. For more information go to:

October 7th-9th / Spooky Empire’s Ultimate Horror Weekend and Freakshow / Orlando Florida / Includes vendors, a costume contest a Killer Klowns from Outer Space reunion , a zombie walk, a creepy car show, live bands and a freak show film festival and several panels on horror movie making and applying make up. For more information go to:

Guest Blogger Zombie Bunny on: We’re Alive

We’re Alive – A story of survival: Written and Produced by KC Wayland.

This zombie podcast is unlike any that I have heard before. It boosts a full cast of players with unique and colorful characters.  The first episode of this ongoing podcast starts the zombie out break on May 9, 2009, where in which you meet one of the main characters, Michael, voiced by Jim Gleason (who played in “The Onion Movie” and made an appearance on the TV show Big Love). Michael is at school when an apparent riot is hitting all of L.A. where men and women are attacking each other. He gets a call from another main character, Lieutenant Angel, and heads to the army base to meet up with this Unit. Only to discover that Sergeant Michael Cross, Lieutenant Angel Tunudo, and Specialist Saul Tink are all that is left of the Army in L.A. They come up with a plan for survival and do their best to implement it while trying to find other survivors and fortify their new home, which is an apartment building they call the Tower.

I do not want to go into too many more details for fear of spoiling what is to come of this totally awesome series. I gave this zombie podcast two maggot ridden thumbs up! I love the way you can just get lost with the story lines and suspense. This is easily achieved by the sometimes creepy music, sound effects and excellent performances by the cast. As established over the next few chapters, the characters find that writing journals and keeping personal records of each account as therapy to deal with what is going on, I find myself writing a journal along with them. Each character has their own unique perspective on what has happened and how they see what is happening around them.

If you plan on listening to this podcast, which I hope you will, they have a schedule on their website,, for release dates on new episodes as well as live readings for the cast in L.A.  They just had a live reading on April 14 and you can watch it on their forum if you have missed it.  I hope you will all enjoy the zombie mayhem as I have.

David’s Library: Holiday Horror

While looking for holiday horror  for this post I wanted to make sure I stayed away from Halloween books. Halloween is my favorite holiday but if I included Halloween books, I would have a blog post about a mile long. I did find some good Christmas books and some Thanksgiving books also.


The first novel I found was Christmas Coffin by Michelle Lundy. Its Christmas eve and the Noel family has just received a knock on their door. When they open the door they see a coffin with a red ribbon tied around it and a sign that says Merry Christmas. Inside is a man named Michael bound in chains with a santa mask on. The man has no memory but has a desire for blood, he doesn’t want to hurt the family that freed him but how long can he fight the urge?

Another book I found was The First Day of Christmas: Deadly Tattoo by Pamela Chillemi Jaeger. Three years ago Faith McKay was found dead due to a drug overdose, she also had a strange a tattoo on her chest. The death was ruled accidental but the detective that worked the case believes Faith was killed by a cult, now that cult is stalking Faith’s mother. The detective is now forced to find a group of killers who are bent on striking again.

The third book I was found was A Christmas Wish: A zombie tale for the holidays by Rebecca Brock. In this story, a child’s mother is tragically killed in a car accident on Christmas eve. The kid makes a special wish to Santa Claus to bring her back but gets more then he asked for. I don’t know much more on this title, its newer and I couldn’t find any reviews for it  but zombies at Christmas seemed entertaining to me.


Both of these next titles are for Thanksgiving. I didn’t want to talk about them too much because both books are geared more for kids between the ages of 8 and 12, but I loved these titles so I wanted to mention them. The first one is  Frankenturkey by Betsy Haynes, this book tells the tale of a turkey brought back from the dead by lightning. Now he wants revenge on the family that killed him.

The second book is Fangs-giving by Dian Curtis Regan, this one is about a strange handyman that torments a family on Thanksgiving.

Do you have any holiday favorites? Please comment below.