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Fresh Content – Suicide Is For Suckers (rough draft) — Derek Barton – 10/30/2024

New Content

Hey there, Trick-or-Treaters! I have a little taste sample of my latest short story, which will be published in an anthology in November. I will provide more details later as the publication date approaches.

For now, enjoy…

SUICIDE IS FOR SUCKERS                                                                          By Derek Barton

[DAY ZERO]

The street lamps swirled ominously like frenzied lightning bugs all about him. Four walls of night surrounded and obscured the top of the parking garage. Everything before Chad’s eyes blurred and skewed in the whirlwind. The concrete beneath his feet bucked and rippled. It was like a giant’s hand grabbed reality and spun the wheel.

Vomit threatened to surge up his throat. Every sound was dull and muted. Even his heavy panting was barely audible. His back prickled with goosebumps as a sudden wind blew over his sweat-soaked dress shirt. The amber bottle of bourbon slipped from his grasp and shattered at his feet. He clutched at his car door with both hands, stood as still as possible, and waited for the world to slow down and stop.

Several long, drawn-out minutes passed. He eased into his driver’s seat, let his head rest against the seat cushion, and closed his eyes. His breathing began to subside.

The coke… what was in that coke? His mind reeled in the wake of the drug effects. I… I have had coke and bourbon together before and never felt like this. I’m gonna kill Maxie! She gave me a tainted score! That stupid bitch!

He opened his eyes. The streetlights were back at their posts. They dotted the city landscape before him like sunlit dew drops on grass. His tongue stuck to the top of his mouth, his throat was a dried-out husk. A deep-seated craving came over him for that bottle of whiskey.

Chad twisted his head around as he scanned the interior of the Malibu for a stray, abandoned bottle of water. Nothing. Only scattered napkins, straw wrappers, fast-food wrappers, and paper bags cluttered the passenger side.

He gave up the search when he spotted a crumpled pack of cigarettes. After bouncing one out, he found his lighter in the loose change tray of the car counsel.

It took only a few deep drags to feel a calm descend over him. The cocaine still ran frantically through his veins along with whatever else was in it. But now sitting in the car, Chad had a semblance of peace and control.

The view of the city below as it sprawled along the mountains and rushed to the shorelines of the Gulf of Mexico was still breathtaking. He wondered how he managed to destroy the beauty of his life in the face of such amazing natural grandeur.

The coke. Every time. The coke, his brain quickly spoke up in case he had somehow not realized that.

I am not stupid. Top grades in high school. Star in Track and Field. I graduated with a business degree from ACU. I worked and managed a bank branch for four years.

He was not an idiot, but still not smart enough to avoid being an addict for two and a half years.

Today at BNO Financial Bank ended abruptly at 12:25 PM. Vice President Douglas Bramton walked in on him doing three lines in the janitor’s closet.  First mistake. Escorted out of the branch building by security around 1:17 PM.

Call to fiancée, Tess Fields. Second mistake. By 3:11 PM, Chad was a single man again.

After finding Maxie and scoring a fresh stash, he drove over to the Total Wines & Whiskeys on Lehman Avenue. 4:02 PM. Third mistake.

Chad glanced at the Malibu’s dashboard clock. 2:11 AM. He shook his head in disgust. The last five hours were an opaque void. An abyss that could not be revealed or his actions.

The car sat idle and parked at a bad angle on an empty rooftop. Did I just get here? Or have I been here all night?

He sat up and scanned the hood. Doesn’t look damaged, so I doubt I hit anything.

Scoffing and shrugging his shoulders, he settled back. The heaviness settled on him, pressing him like a barbell into his cushioned seat.

Tess was not the love of his life, but she had been very good to him. She was a red-haired beauty with an actual head on her shoulders. In the beginning, they spent hours debating philosophy or conspiracy theories, then would spend the next hours having frantic, wild sex. They celebrated their first anniversary two months ago. He proposed to her a month later.

He couldn’t fight her logic and recalled her words of damnation. How do you expect me to trust you? I never saw you take drugs. Now you are telling me you just lost your job for coke? I don’t know you. After what happened to my brother… Her words had choked off in a sob.  I don’t know you. Never call here again, asshole! Click.

Three missteps. No, that was three strikes. You’re out, man. Game over.

Over and out?

He stumbled out of the car. His legs were pretty shaky. The wind picked up and as he approached the ledge, he felt the light spattering of raindrops.

First, Chad looked up at the fast-moving clouds in the overcast sky. A surging storm was sweeping in from the bay. He leaned over the waist-high stone barrier and scanned the street below. He was in a seven-floor parking garage. A busy street below even at this hour. Cars lined up going both directions and cars parked on both sides. There were no bystanders. No one walking the sidewalks or loitering in front of the few shops that called Descarte Roadway home.

Three strikes. You are out, Chad. Go home…

He took a deep breath and climbed on top of the barrier.

“That is a fine watch you have there, Mr. Beauvais,” a masculine voice called out. Smooth with a slight southern twang. The words hinted at notes of refinement and intelligence.

Chad snapped a look over his shoulder. A slender man, not gaunt or athletic, but trim, leaned against his silver Malibu.

“Wh-what?”

“I said you have a fine watch. A limited-edition silver and gold ’23 Bulova Octava. Yes, it would be a shame to damage it in your fall, don’t you think?” The man flashed a perfect smile with bright teeth, an earnest expression, and a wry grin.

Besides the carefree attitude, he wore a dark brown suit, vest, and a matching derby with a black band. His face was thin with a short beak nose over a reddish-brown goatee.

“I… it’s not for sale, man. Fuck off!”

“Posh, my good man, everything is for sale. Everything and every person has a price.”

The wind gusted and Chad teetered on the edge. His arms shot out to either side, helping him regain some of his balance. But the wind fought back. Pinwheeling, he felt himself start to slip.

The man strutted forward and snagged Chad’s belt, stopping the forward momentum. “If I could offer you one solution, one answer to everything… Would you give me your last seconds to hear me out?”

 “Look! I—”

“Or I could let go?” he said, stepping forward a few inches. Those few inches gave Chad an intimate, birds-eye view of the cement sidewalk. Below were the hard metal cars reflecting streetlamps. He heard and felt the rumble of speeding tractor-trailers making long-haul journeys across the state.

“NO! HEY, STOP! ARE YOU CRAZY?”

“Then let me formally introduce myself so we can have a civilized adult conversation. You may call me, Mr. Holmes.”

“Uh… I’m Chad—”

“Beauvais. Yes. Do you want to hear my offer now?”

Chad nodded, knowing there was little option. As quick as he had been ready to throw it all away, the act of climbing onto the ledge ended his drug stupor. Hanging precariously seventy feet or more in the air by his belt completely sobered him up. He never felt more alive. All five senses thrummed with a vibrancy nearly overriding his sanity. “What do you want, mister?”

“It is Mr. Holmes, I won’t say it again,” his grin had vanished. “It is not what I want, but what I can offer.”

Chad sighed with relief as the stranger helped him back into the garage, plopped down to rest with his back against the barrier, and said, “All right. I’m listening.”

“What would you say is your biggest obstacle in life? What has always got the better of you? Or who perhaps?”

“You tell me. You seemed to know.”

A black wooden cane with a curved handle resembling a snake appeared in his hand. He whipped it up and punched Chad hard in the chest. Mr. Holmes then brought it to a spare two inches from his left eye. “Time is of the essence, and I don’t take to fools. They say that every seventeen seconds a man takes his life. I do not need you; you need me. Are you going to drop your attitude, or do I throw you off the garage myself?” The steely look in Mr. Holmes’ eyes spoke the truth. He was ready to end Chad’s life.

“Sorry,” he gulped. His hand rubbed absently at the spot where the cane had struck. “Go on.”

“I will resolve that root of evil in your life. I can make whatever you name as your challenge, disappear forever. Imagine it. It’s not an offer of instant success, but true power to succeed on your own merits. You’ve always wanted to prove yourself. Make everyone eat their doubts!”

Chad couldn’t help himself, he giggled and then cackled. The words tumbled out. “Oh, man! You had me there. You got me good. Quite the sales pitch! What, are you some psychologist or maybe one of those police negotiators? That was clever, man! Distract me long enough to pull me down from the ledge. Uh, am I under arrest now?” He glanced about expecting police officers to leap from the shadows.

The cane wavered in the air as Mr. Holmes decided if he was being mocked or not. It dropped. He crouched beside him. His hand shot out and caught Chad’s neck in his empty palm.

“Five minutes ago, see what you almost did,” the ominous stranger whispered.

In his mind, a crowd gathered around a parked green sedan. A body flattened and molded into the top of the sedan. It was his body! One of his green eyes stared ahead lifeless. The other eye dangled on his cheek facing the ground. Blood ran in several, thick streams down the front windshield. One broken arm jutted in two different directions and sported the Bulova Octava with a shattered crystal facing.

“Suicide is for suckers, Mr. Beauvais. What is the root of your evil? Tell me.”

“I’m… I’m a drug addict. I can’t stop. I don’t even want to stop.”

“Easy. See, that wasn’t so hard to answer,” Mr. Holmes rose, straightened, and rolled his shoulders. The cane was gone again.

“Do you know where you are tonight? Do you know this address?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then in sixty days, you must come back to me. Stand before me and prove my gift has not been wasted.”

Chad struggled to his feet. “What do you get? What’s the price?”

A flash of his blazing white teeth split the stranger’s face as he smiled and winked. “You are a shrewd banker. Every soul is tainted. It is only natural. The world is filled with temptations and tests. So, every soul has a penance to pay in one form or another. I pay mine by saving good men, keeping the good from their foolish decisions. Suicide is for suckers, remember?”

He swiped at the creases in his suit slacks and smoothed out the wrinkles in his sleeves. “Do we have a deal?”

“Wait. You’ll wipe out my drug addiction. Just like that. And the only thing I need to do is to come back here? Or… or else what?”

“You pay my penance by your good karma and deeds in the world.” Mr. Holmes stopped. His eyes filled with blood. A growl began deep in his chest. “You fail me, then you’ll pay me in another way. For eternity!”

Chad watched as his hand with a will of its own extended and shook Mr. Holmes’ hand.

[DAY ONE – FIRST CUT]

Chad snapped awake, eyes wide and darting. He sat up and found himself in his apartment. Everything felt the same. Dirty sheets, scratchy blanket, and even his stained and wrinkled, white dress shirt. His pants crumpled up and lying on a chair next to a small window.

Three posters hung on the wall. One in a glass frame of a blazing blue Camaro, lights reflecting off the metal as it sat parked in a puddle, reflecting its dark image. The second poster was a movie poster. A copy of the Caddyshack movie. The last poster had a wine stain on one corner. It was a poor rendition of a runaway train merging into the silhouette of a three-masted sailing ship that streaked into the horizon, chasing the setting moon.

A short, black work desk sat opposite the bed. It had his car keys, wallet, cell phone, and a cigarette pack. Piles of napkins and a couple of pizza boxes were stacked on the corner. He did the majority of his work in the office.

All signs indicated home, his place on 77th Avenue.

He yawned, stretched, and pulled his legs free of the covers. Wow. I… I feel good, not even hungover!

Chad got up in his amazement and shambled down the hall into the bathroom. In the mirror, he looked like shit despite what his body indicated. His face thick with stubble, crusties rimmed his eyes, and there was dried drool and bourbon on his chin. His thoughts were slightly foggy as per the normal morning haze. But the newly unemployed had found he couldn’t remember how he got home.

Plucking open one of the sink drawers in the bathroom vanity, his fingers rummaged for his pipe and lighter. As his hand was wrapped around the glass tube, he froze. I’m good. I don’t want it.

The pipe dropped back into the drawer, and the drawer was shut without hesitation.

He smiled at his reflection. I am good. Holy shit, I really do not need a hit!

Above his collar, he noted a spot of red. Christ! Another new stain.

His fingers pulled back the collar to reveal a long scratch, razor-thin. It had bled in his sleep. The whitish tee-shirt had a half-circle of blood almost pie-plate size.

He ran water on a hand towel and blotted the cut. It helped.

Where did that come from? Chad mused.

The flash of an obscured face popped from memory. A dark brown suit, a stylish derby, a black cane. A murmur of conversation. What is the root of your evil? Tell me…

He splashed water onto his face, ignoring his thoughts.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter! It’s a brand-new day. Going to make something of it. Time to refresh the resume,” he said aloud, cheering himself on.

He glanced once more at the bleeding scratch. A cloud of concern passed briefly over his face.

I do hope you enjoyed the preview — I promise more details on the anthology will be coming soon.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

An Exciting New Story – ECLIPSE — Derek Barton, 2024

New Content

Are you missing out? Never too late to join in! ECLIPSE is my latest horror-suspense story I am sharing on Amazon Vella. It’s another crime-inspired story, connected with my prior stories, Elude and Evade!

A sadistic new serial killer has the city of Chicago in his grip. A bold, rookie detective haunts his every step. Which will slip up first?

One criticism I want to address: a common trait in my stories is the supernatural or occult aspects. Some readers want a hard-core, true-to-life crime thriller. ECLIPSE is just for YOU! This time I bring you pure horror with nothing but the evil of man… Are you sure you are ready for this?

And to add a little spice to the hook: the rookie detective is Bowden Korrey… nephew to none other than Detective Lindsey Korrey from Evade…

Here’s a sample of the first episode:

The storm outside also grew in strength and fury as if feeding off Mitchell’s mood. Now, blinding flurries of fresh snow pelted the windows incessantly. Mitchell took a long sip of his coffee, settled back in his chair, and worked to calm his nerves. Corey was a typical kid. It was nothing abnormal. Yet there was something about the mouthy teen that got under his skin. He was expected to do well in a college football program somewhere as a running back. For that reason, he barely made any effort with his assignments and tests.

The plain digital clock on his wall displayed 12:45. He had to heed his own advice and started to gather his papers and texts into his work duffel bag. A few minutes later, he jogged with his hands up over his head to shield himself from the snow as he opened his gold Toyota Camry. He flung his bag in the backseat and waited behind the steering wheel.

A few minutes later, he cruised down the I-83, keeping it slow and steady on the slick roadway. He dug out his cell phone. He knew it would be better to call now versus when he reached the woody outskirts of Chicago. Cell towers were not as prevalent and his reception grew spotty. Despite the long everyday drive to and from Bogan, he loved the time of isolation and freedom it gave him. He would often listen to classical music or even lose himself in an audiobook.

Sometimes when the mood took him, he would allow himself a fantasy. A homicide fantasy would bloom in his mind, like a black and thorny rose. He would spin the encounter in his mind in every gruesome detail and direction he could. Mitchell liked to work out the opportunities, challenges, and the obstacles. He conjured every conceivable angle to how he would kill a person in the scenario. It was his darkest craving. He buried the needy feelings deep inside… buried deep like his victims in his scenarios.

CLICK HERE to read the new story and get the latest episodes!

Has Your Journey Become A Maze? — Derek Barton -2024

Self-publishing

I get asked a lot by aspiring new writers, where do I go next? “The manuscript is done and I’m ready to put it out in the world. But… I don’t know how.”

Completely understand that lost sensation. You’ve done the hard part, but you didn’t think beyond the draft. It’s an overwhelming and daunting challenge. Some find it easier to “hide it right here in my drawer. Someday, I’ll get back to it.” In other words, you feel safer if you don’t even try.

But that seems like such a tragedy to me! You’re so close to the goal. I want to help. Here is a sample of the guest blog I did for Phoenix Oasis Press detailing my template on the next steps forward (be sure to click on the link at the bottom for the complete blog):

I FINISHED MY FIRST DRAFT… NOW WHAT?

Written by Derek Barton

In front of you on your desk sits a stack of accumulated pages. The culmination of your blood, sweat, and tears, your finished draft sits patiently. It stares up at you, waiting for you to do something with it. It sits and stares. And sits some more. All while you ponder, ‘what do I do now?’ 

While I don’t have all the answers, I have been in your shoes. Last night, I completed my first round of edits on my seventeenth novel. If you plan to independently publish your work – meaning you handle everything and are in full charge of your artwork, pricing, and sales – read on for some tips to help you move forward. 

Note that this template / process works well for me. I offer it as a starting point for you to personalize to your goals and journey.

Step 1: Editing

Everyone needs an editor. No one’s work is clean, error-free, and perfect out of the gate. But before you jump into editing, take a month or two off from your manuscript. Set it aside and give yourself some mental distance. When you go back to it, you’ll approach it with fresh eyes and an open mind to improvements. 

Free online tools

Free online editing services like Grammarly, Hemingway Editor, and ProWriting Aid can help keep your prose concise, clear to the reader, and develop strong reader engagement in your work. Programs like this will highlight areas of improvement including: 

  • Sentence structure – fragments, run-ons, or overly complex sentences 
  • Identifying passive voice
  • Flagging over-used or repetitive word choices
  • Highlighting weakeners – adverbs and phrases like ‘I think,’ ‘maybe,’ ‘really,’ ‘just’

Alpha reader

Alpha readers are readers or other writers you trust who have interest or experience with writing in your genre. Expect an alpha reader to give you a better, well-informed review of your work where they point out plot holes, missing or unaccounted characters, and jumbled timelines. Prepare yourself for navigating alpha (and any kind of) feedback, and also be clear about what you would like the reader to look for. Here are tips on how to do that!

CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE THE FULL BLOG.

Enjoy!! I truly hope this helps and gives you some direction and hope in your journey forward.

The Phoenix Oasis Press — Author Interview – Derek Barton – 2024

General, Personal

I was honored to be interviewed by a local publishing press, Phoenix Oasis Press. This small, but growing press has been doing great work by producing an online blog focused on helping new authors, organizing workshops and writer retreats, and even orchestrating several award-winning anthologies.

In 2025, they are again set to gather independent writer’s short stories into a new anthology. I have attached the link to the details here. Without a doubt, it is a great venture for any new, aspiring writers!

Here is a sample of the interview (for the full interview, click on the link at the bottom).

Why I write

I love getting lost in books. The great escape into space, the past, the future – anywhere the story takes you. I knew early on I wanted to entertain others in the same way. And I had a wealth of content. You see, stories and characters spring to my mind and demand to be heard and written. Like spoiled children, they rampage and stomp out any other thoughts until I write down what they have to say. If I don’t give in to their demands, I’ll go crazy. 

I wouldn’t have it any other way. Writing has always been a part of who I am. Bringing stories to life is a beautiful stress reliever, therapy session, and personal adventure. Sometimes the characters go on unexpected benders or take unknown paths. It’s intriguing, fulfilling, and frustrating all at the same time. 

Early roots & inspirations

Born and raised in Indiana, I was your typical introverted kid. I spent a lot of time reading the horror of Stephen King and Dean Koontz, and R.A. Salvatore’s fantasy epics.

When I was 26, I needed a big change. I took a leap and moved to Phoenix, Arizona in 1996. I didn’t know anyone in the southwest. Nor did I have a job or a place to stay, but something was calling me. 

Writing life

In 2011 I got serious about writing and started working on my debut novel, an epic fantasy. When I started, I wrote by the seat of my pants. I let the world unfold on screen as I typed. My story meandered along, trying to find its way from point to point. I realized I needed a road map so I sat down and crafted a super-detailed, 60-page bullet outline. Turns out I’m more a plotter style writer than a pantser. 

Editor’s tip: There’s no right way to write a novel other than the way that works for you. The pantster-plotter spectrum also includes plantsers. Check out this NaNoWriMo quiz to get an idea of your style.

Letting the story go

I spent five years developing, editing, and endlessly rewriting that first novel. Then I read an article where Stephen King advised that at a certain point, you have to let your children go. You have to let them loose in the world and hope for the best. I took that advice to heart. If I kept rewriting, my work would never see the light of day. 

Publication choices

When I started, I hadn’t thought about what exactly I’d do with it once it was done. I always knew I wanted to publish it, to share it, but I hadn’t considered whether to go with traditional or independent publishing. 

As I worked on editing, cover design, and my book blurb, I jumped into researching about all-things-publishing. Two years later, I independently published my epic fantasy Consequences Within Chaos. I went independent because I felt I had better control of the end product, along with more responsibility. I’d invested a total of five years of blood, sweat, and tears into realizing this dream. 

Things got easier

I wrote The Bleeding Crown, the sequel to Consequences, in one year. I hope that helps anyone reading this realize the value of the work you are doing right now, every day. Everything you learn, everything you do, helps you develop repeatable processes for your writing that make it easier. Trust me. 

Since then, I’ve produced eight horror novels, six epic fantasy novels, a short story collection, and have been published in literary magazines. My newest short story collection just came out, and I have an epic fantasy novel launching soon. You can find everything about my work on my website where I also blog about writing topics. You can also find my works on Amazon under my author page.

For the rest of my interview…

Enjoy!! And thank you to everyone who has shown interest and have supported my writing career since 2016! It’s been incredible and it isn’t over yet!!

New Releases for 2024! — Derek Barton – 2024

General

New releases coming at ya…

Things are heating up for me as they are cooling down outside! Several projects have come together and I wanted to let you all know.

Starting with this month, VICTIMS: A Horror Short Story Collection will be available starting 9/11/24. This is a combined effort by me, one of my best friends Brian Gatti, and my father, T. D. Barton. We have fifteen thrilling and mind-bending stories of paranormal, psychological, and occult horror. Soon this will also be available to listen to on Audible.com from the incredibly talented S.W. Salzman (who also narrated my best-selling Elude Series!).

Then on October 15th, just in time for your creepy Fall nights and Halloween reading: Weatherly Lane: An Anthology will be released! This is an ensemble of new and rising stars of indie horror writers. The anthology revolves around the deadly cursed house built on 1417 Weatherly Lane in Kingston, Minnesota. The stories explore the dark events that circled this property from the day it was built in 1914 up through present day! Every author has chosen a year or decade to represent. My story contribution is the origin to the evil that permeates the tainted land in 1911! It a fun and entertaining thrill ride from page one!!!

Also by the end of September or the beginning of October, I will be releasing a brand new horror story line on Amazon Vella called Eclipse! And yes, there are ties to the Elude & Evade Series!

Mitch Michaels is a respected teacher, a well-liked pillar of the community, and a committed fiancé set to marry in January. But after a devastating car accident causes brain trauma, something has been unleashed. Something evil. Something primal! Mitch is hiding dark cravings, promises of chaos and terror. How long can he hide inside his “gentle giant” persona while giving into his dark activities…

More details will be made as I get closer to releasing this story so stay alert for that!

And in December, I’m working hard to make available my epic fantasy Wyvernshield finale, Beyond the Barrier. I’m now in the last stages of editing. The story and the culmination of five books is finally here! An incredible epic tale with an epic battle unlike any I’ve ever written!

More stories are brewing! I’m even considering an epic fantasy anthology that takes place after the events from Beyond the Barrier!

Plus, I still have an interest in doing my first whodunit mystery novel next year!

Thanks again to everyone who support my work or who actively helps to make this all happen!

Audible Book Review of Stephen King’s “You Like It Darker” — Derek Barton – 2024

Book Review

You Like It Darker

by Stephen King — a short story anthology

Released on May 21, 2024

512 pages

Synopsis:

From legendary storyteller and master of short fiction Stephen King comes an extraordinary new collection of twelve short stories, many never-before-published, and some of his best EVER.

“You like it darker? Fine, so do I,” writes Stephen King in the afterword to this magnificent new collection of twelve stories that delve into the darker part of life—both metaphorical and literal. King has, for half a century, been a master of the form, and these stories, about fate, mortality, luck, and the folds in reality where anything can happen, are as rich and riveting as his novels, both weighty in theme and a huge pleasure to read. King writes to feel “the exhilaration of leaving ordinary day-to-day life behind,” and in You Like It Darker, readers will feel that exhilaration too, again and again.

The Review:

Stephen King has given us a long list of intriguing, unique, and breath-taking short stories like in Skeleton Crew (The Mist), Different Seasons (Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption), Everything’s Eventual (1408), and, of course, Night Shift (Children of the Corn, Trucks).

In this collection, he showcases several amazing character profile stories like Two Talented Bastids, Laurie, and The Turbulence Expert. These stories revolve around dynamic characters – King gives you small glimpses into their lives and leaves you wanting more!

The three stories that make the collection truly shine are: Danny Coughlin’s Bad Dream, Rattlesnakes, and The Answer Man.

Danny Coughlin’s Bad Dream will surely be made into another movie — it’s that good! So, I won’t give you too much on this one. Let’s just say, what would happen if you were gifted one psychic vision one night… You see a possible murder. How do you get anyone to believe you?

Rattlesnakes may not be a movie, but it gives you some closure. Ever wonder what happened to the surviving parents from Cujo? This details the remainder of their lives along the way giving a gripping ghost story!

The Answer Man is a fun read! Truly entertaining with a fantastic mystery hook. If you were to meet The Answer Man, what would be your “free” questions for him? Be very careful of the words you choose and be sure you truly want to know the answers!

The Narration:

Patton

Will Patton has been chosen again to work his magic and narrate the majority of the stories. He is a successful actor in movies like Armageddon, The Postman and The Punisher as well as recurring roles in the television series, Falling Skies and 24. His versatility and talent comes to life in his narration, bringing these stories to a whole new level. Stephen King does a good job himself, narrating two of the stories himself, Laurie and The Turbulence Expert.

The Rating:

I originally was disappointed with the first three stories of this collection to be honest. I began to doubt the book was going to win me over. The first three stories were… interesting. Good, but as I pointed out, some of them were character showcases.

When you get a title like You Like It Darker, you have some high horror expectations. That being the case, only Rattlesnakes got under my skin. The stalking Twins and the creep factor brought to the story worked for me. I am a sucker for ghost stories as it is, so Rattlesnakes was my favorite in terms of scare factor. The Dreamers and “the floating, black tendrils” was second for making my skin crawl.

Hands down my favorite was Danny Coughlin’s Bad Dream. It places you in the heart of a mystery at the same time drawing you into an “injustice against an innocent man” scenario. The Inspector Franklin Jalbert character is an expose on obsessive men who can go blind to truth and logic. Men who bend the truth or fix evidence as they feel the ends justify the means. Deplorable character but fascinating at the same time!

Overall, I did like this collection. It has a misleading title, but the true gems in the material make it possible to forgive.

RECOMMENDED READING! For rating purposes, I score this 4 of 5.

By DEREK BARTON — Author of the ELUDE series (Parts I, II & III — a Horror/crime thriller), EVADE Series (Parts I, II & III)  & IN FOUR DAYS: a Horror-Suspense Novella.  Also co-author of the Hidden & The Hidden Within… All books available on amazon, kindle & Audible.com!).

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Update on Beyond The Barrier WIP & ONE MORE PEEK! — DEREK BARTON, 2024

New Content

Hello again! I know, I know… Still waiting. But rest assured, it is getting closer. I have completed the first major milestone: the first rough draft is complete. 64,000 words so far with 30+ Chapters and 228 pages. After editing and rewrites, it will be probably closer to 68k.

Here is another excerpt to wet your appetite. Enjoy!

PEHSHE SEAS, ABOARD THE CORRTA DA’EALE

A throbbing sensation pulsed in his side, but Rivyen ignored it as he held Lyndasia’s right hand in both of his. A few hours ago, the Menders had been forced to induce her into a coma.  And though, she slept soundly, it was not restful. Unconsciously, she pressed her left hand to her hip. The inflamed wound beneath continued to cause her great pain even in this deep state.

A soft rap at the door came from behind him.

“Yes. Come in,” he answered.

Master Tal Crowan stepped in. Rivyen gave him a quick glance over his shoulder. The monk was clean-shaven, forgoing his usual long silver goatee. His hair was slicked back and cut short. In his hands, he carried several parcels of parchment. His face was set in a frown, and he was biting at his bottom lip.

“I have not seen that expression often on your face. When I have, it accompanies bad or very concerning news. Which one is it tonight?” Rivyen asked sounding exhausted. His shoulders were slumped and his face was drawn from stress and exertion.

“Unfortunately, your observations are correct. I do have upsetting news. A few days ago, I sent some inquiries to the Tower of Toma Tova. I received word back an hour ago and I am troubled. Very troubled indeed. Has Lyndasia’s condition improved or has the wound accepted the mending treatments at all?”

Rivyen shook his head no as he placed a damp wet cloth over her forehead.

“Her symptoms are not isolated, Rivyen. Reports and findings all over the globe are describing many wounded soldiers who are experiencing the same. Their wounds will not heal and resist all efforts. The only common factor is that they all suffered wounds caused by the Cult’s weapons. The Beleardea have crafted something, a poison perhaps that can be used to taint their blades.”

“By the Gods,” Rivyen whispered. His injuries had not fully healed yet, but that was due to the extent and amount of them he received while dragged by horseback up the mountain on Risa. The very fact that he was surpassing her in his recovery was horrifying.  He met Tal’s eyes.

“Do not fret too much yet. The Tower stated that there are a lot of different clergy and Mending specialists looking into the matter. So, I am sure something will be discovered soon which can counter this.”

Both men stopped and studied the pale, feverish woman before them.

“Last night, I slipped a dose of Llanthe Flower into her cup of Brulla. I had to. Not only has she had bouts of cramping and pain during the day, but she screams often with night terrors. How can her body recover from all this?”

Tal placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “The Ebon Queen has made significant progress into Alevada and has found a foothold on the Keliada coastline. The winter appears to be the only obstacle at this point from her capturing more or taking some of the Alliance neighboring countries. If the Ebon Queen’s armies can debilitate the wounded and keep them from recovering, it could mean a landslide victory for her in the spring.”

“What you are saying is that we are not the only ones getting desperate and running out of time.”

“The library sent me some of the latest findings on Veseo—“

“Veseo?” Rivyen interrupted, somewhat still distracted by watching his love descending deeper.

“That is the alternate plane where the prophecy says we can find Shei Goldenaar. It is where I need you to go and track her down. We will need her to fulfill her part in stopping the God of Rot,” Tal said. “I am sending young Rhenden to assist you.”

“I assume Magemaster Beross will help us get there?”

“Indeed. The problem you face the most is that land is sparse, it is mostly an ocean planet. And of course, the inhabitants will likely be protective of their resources so you’ll have to rely on that charm of yours,” he joked.

Rivyen shook his head. “I cannot leave her now, Master Tal. She is so weak and getting worse. How can you expect me to? You know what I have already lost! I will not lose her too.”

“I have no choice. Besides if the God of Rot wins this, what will it matter? Her life and everyone’s life will already be forfeit. You cannot afford to sit this battle out.”

Rivyen grew quiet and did not respond for several moments. “I am not a good swimmer, and I do not have a boat…”

“Ama’yen has graced us with a resolution: her eagle, Jomma.”

That surprised Rivyen who did finally turn away from Lyndasia this time to look back at Master Tal. “You serious?”

“She will give you some riding lessons before she herself returns to Aberrisc. I am having her return and retrieve Khedarr and his daughter Vii.”

“Do you think Khedarr will have some ideas on how to get Queen Letandra back?”

“I truly hope so,” Tal replied. “I will be going too to Brealtosh to find Ayreth Ryenoc. From what I have learned, Brealtosh has the opposite problem. They have little water. A lot of harsh wide open deserts.”

“What is the game plan then? Retrieve the descendants of these ancient paladins. Their lineage. Then what?”

“From the words of Taliah’s prophecy, if we obtain the Etohlosii artifacts we can use them to defeat and absorb the God of Rot—“

“Wait! That would mean first we have to defeat the current Etohlosii then allow the God of Rot to be released and reborn!”

“These are treacherous times. I do not relish the thought of the God of Rot walking our lands again. Hopefully, LLasher can find the Sage’s Notes and get us some ideas on how to stop the Etohlosii. If we have control of the cursed artifacts, he will never be unified.”

“Last night, I could not sleep. A question came to mind. There were five names connected to the Lineage. Taliah said five. Yet there are only four Etohlosii.”

Tal frowned and shrugged, but remained silent.

Rivyen sighed and then said, “Taliah’s words have yet to let us down. I have been quite the fool in all this. I did not trust her. Hells! I called her a traitor to her face. Yet through it all she has saved us many times over. I need to make things right with her.”

Tal nodded. “That may be very true, but it will have to be when you return.”

“I think it is time for you to reach out to King Jehah and the Keliada Alliance. We will need help!”

Suddenly Lyndasia gripped his arm, her fingernails digging into his skin. Her body bucked and spasmed. Tal shouted for the Menders, but they had already heard the commotion and were breaking into the room. One bumped Rivyen hard off his stool.

Tal helped him to his feet as he ushered him back into the doorway. “We need to give them space to do their work.”

The woman’s skin glistened from fever sweat. She writhed and moaned in agony as her healers tried to cast spells and apply cold compresses to her forehead and neck.

Her body abruptly went rigid. Lyndasia’s eyes popped wide open and glazed over, staring at the ceiling above her. She shrieked, “Our time is short! Stop wasting time! You must do more. Fight for your future. Fight for all the innocents of this world and the countless other worlds!” The words poured from her mouth but were not said in her voice. Neither man recognized the speaker.

Then as quick as it began, the shaking stopped, and her body relaxed. Lyndasia closed her eyes and dropped back into a calm slumber. The Menders continued to give her care, but it was obvious the crisis was over for the moment.

“I will stay tonight with her, but I will start those riding lessons with Ama’yen in the morning.” Rivyen was pale as he looked wearily at Master Tal. “We are running out of time.”

****

After the last mender left the room and closed the door, a patch of shadow in the southern corner of the room slid down the wall.  It separated and stood over Lyndasia’s prone body. Red eyes blinked open inside the mass.

The Deity Staff slowly studied the ill woman.  It was not here to do harm as sorely it was tempted to. Instead, it was here following orders to observe, gather information, and see how their enemies’ numbers fared. 

From all it heard, the Khestal Ezan Order was teetering on the brink. The so-called executive officers were all going in opposite directions or were recovering from injuries like this one.

The Deity Staff’s interests were piqued when it heard the words Plane of  Brealtosh. It had been there before and it left a heavy mark on the people there but that was generations ago. 

It decided it would report to Amaxiulus about the trips for these “lineage” individuals. However, the entity would personally travel to Brealtosh after Master Tal. It wanted to see the main world there again and it wanted revenge upon this insolent man. The entity would prevent them from finding Ayreth and kill the leader once and for all.

Breaking Out — Finding The Keys To Get Noticed – Derek Barton, 2024

Self-publishing

Every day it is said that at Amazon, two thousand new books are published each day!

Often new authors ask, how do I get noticed in all that? How can I get my head above the flood? Well…I’m still trying to figure that out myself! But I have a couple of suggestions and personal experiences that I can pass along which might help you like they have helped me.

One technique is networking. Much like marketing, when you begin your journey in writing, you never fully anticipate the other aspects to being a writer. I had no idea on how to begin or how to initiate networking! Writing now is far more than simply telling a tale. That’s almost the easiest part!

There are many roles you have to take on after you’ve written the manuscript. Editor, marketer, salesman, and ad designer are only a few of the things you’ll need to learn or…find people who are or are willing to work with you. Thus, networking can be a valuable resource. I had great fortune to meet one writer/editor who was willing to share her rules and guidelines for editing. It helped me so much knowing as I wrote what to already watch out for and it saved me time on avoiding those mistakes in the early drafts.

Or another benefit for reaching out and building relationships is you meet others going through the same issues. They may have had success in an area and can give you tips or tricks that moved them forward.

Through networking you can also find opportunities! I have been able to work with some other great authors this way. Tie into an anthology. This not only gets your writing more exposure but allows you some valuable time with people in your field.

One other opportunity I found was I could offer help to others with their early work. One author I’m currently helping needs assistance in formatting. For a small fee, I’m helping him at the same time getting money I can put towards an ad campaign to sell my work!

Another network bonus is your readership or fan base can build from it. When you’re work is published with other writers, the other author’s readership gets to read your writing. This will often lead to new crossover fans. It benefits everyone involved.

The other technique I’ve learned from experience to get ahead is joining a writing group. Not only will this give you an idea of what is trending in writing and with readers, but it will give you fresh perspectives on similar problems. You share in the group things you are encountering or writing blocks, etc. You can often get advice or maybe leads on how to work out a writing issue, find motivation and inspiration, or even more opportunities to partner in collaborations and anthologies.

My current writing group, called Shut Up & Write meets weekly and provides me a dedicated hour each week that I am free of distractions, a place where no one will interrupt me, and makes me write – no way to give myself an excuse not to write.

In this day and age of the infinite internet, it is easy to get sidetracked.

Plus with this group, we have decided to work on an anthology and pool our resources to get published. We are even going to try to submit our work in competitions or award contests.

So these two minor but powerful techniques have lead me to a couple of anthologies that will be published this year and the next, given me time and discussions with a lot of writers some smaller, some bigger than me and it’s led me to getting exposure on author pod casts!

All has been a rewarding, fantastic boost in my personal journey in writing.

I highly recommend that everyone find a way to network (social media platforms like Facebook, instagram, and X are great ways to start!). And if you have free time, use it to advance your career by joining a writing group. They can provide incredible advice or even an outlet for feedback! Don’t overlook the fact that many groups can offer Zoom meetings and won’t require you to commute. Meetup.com is a great resource to find local established groups.

Updated & Upgraded Patreon — Derek Barton – 2024

General

Hey everyone! I really hope you will take a moment to check out my Patreon page. I have revised my Membership Benefits. I will be making one or two blog posts on there a month along with my author website here.

I’ve always been interested in writing and telling stories, but LIFE HAPPENS to us all. I didn’t pursue my calling until after I was 40 and buried in a corporate job. Currently, I work a graveyard shift job and have a very lively family of five that I want to give all the best that life can offer.

What your patronage will provide for me is funding for any marketing campaigns (Amazon ads, Facebook ads, Youtube Book Trailers, or professional book cover artwork). While I do this for the love of storytelling, I also would love to reach more readers. OVER 2000+ NEW BOOKS ARE PUBLISHED EVERY DAY!! The only way to stand out from the avalanche is through ads and videos.

Recently on my monthly newsletter, I created a survey of what you guys wanted and what you are looking to see from me. You guys spoke up, and I took note! You want MORE: more writing, more updates on works-in-progress, and more unique prizes!

I love this idea of having this personal connection with you, my core fans. And with this direct connection, we can literally provide for one another.

Besides my utmost gratitude, subscription memberships will benefit you too!

Starting at Tier 1 @ $1 per month, you can engage in surveys and votes to influence content decisions (like names, titles, cover art, etc), exclusive insights to my work and sneak peeks at content, plus you are recognized and named on my website!

Tier 2 @ $3 per month, you gain the same as Tier 1 BUT also you can make suggestions for blogs or short stories you’d like to see from me, see monthly updates on WIPs, a special Thank You Credit in my novels! 

Tier 3 @ $10 per month gives you the previously listed along with Ebook copies of new novels, the patron’s site link(if available) listed on my website, and a choice of a signed custom-designed metal bookmarker!

SPECIAL SHOUT OUT TO JOE GIBBS FOR HIS MEMBERSHIP.

Tier 4 @ $20 per month, gives you the previously listed as well as paperback copies of any new novels released (US only) mailed directly to you.

SPECIAL SHOUT OUT TO LONG-STANDING MEMBERS SUSANNA WILLEY AND LYNN NEITH!

The las Tier 5 @ $35 per month gives you the previously listed and a unique COLLECTIBE book cover of new release custom-designed by the author just for the Patron member (US only). PLUS an ongoing chapter-by-chapter submission of a new novel sent to you before it even goes to publication!

With Patreon, I can realize my goals with marketing, doing book signings, offering contests and giveaways at the same time bringing you great exclusive content and special signed prizes!

With Patreon, I can focus on my ultimate goal to be a full-time writer.

With Patreon, together we can really create something magical (or horrific depending on the genre!) and make a true difference!

NOW LET’S GET THE JOURNEY STARTED!!

Fresh Content – THE LONG STRETCH (rough draft) — Derek Barton – 5/24/2024

New Content

Kris woke with a start. Bright lights above him stung his eyes. His mouth was sand dry and his throat felt swollen. As his vision adapted, he looked about him. He was behind the steering wheel in his dark blue Thunderbird. It was smoothly running idle. 

He checked the rearview mirror. His short-cropped platinum blonde hair was still well-groomed and nothing seemed out of place. However, his slate-gray eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. He looked down at his light blue suit. It was relatively fresh and he didn’t note any wrinkles. He decided he hadn’t been asleep long. 

Outside the car, he could see a long empty stretch of road.

Oh, it’s the tunnel! The I-21, Kris realized. It was what the locals in Clear Lake, Texas, called The Long Stretch. The tunnel was on his normal drive to work. He had recently been promoted to Operations Manager of a Healthcare Plan Center. The commute normally took about thirty-five minutes, most of it in this tunnel.

God! I fell asleep. How the hell did I manage to do that? he wondered. 

He also found it odd that he couldn’t recall the night before. Was he drinking? He hadn’t had a black-out session in sometime but it wasn’t off the table. His love of Bourbon was infamous. Sherry, his wife despised his “only vice” and gave him a shit storm routinely over it.

He shrugged and put the car in Drive. There was no other traffic in front or behind him in the tunnel. His watch was missing, but he guessed it was near 5:00 AM. He found himself quite hungry and thirsty. The BP Gas Station near the office would likely have some hot coffee and maybe a few donuts.

Kris patted his suit pants pockets, but they were empty. Shitty time to lose his wallet and cell phone. He sighed getting disgusted with himself. It must’ve been a real party for him to walk out without his items. 

Did I party? Or did Sherry and I fight again and I drank away my anger? Why the hell was this drive taking so long? Where’s the exit? His thoughts began to focus on the tunnel.

While he had driven inside it nearly twenty times this month alone, there were no details he could really recall. It was constructed with a plain, black tar road, three wide lanes, yellow painted stripes to mark the sides, a bike lane, and high gray concrete walls with white hanging LED lamps every thirty feet. 

The tunnel went on and on. 

Something’s wrong. The tunnel portion of the drive  is only twenty minutes or so tops. I’ve been over a half hour already I think.

He looked at the odometer. Christ! It was way more than he remembered. 56312. Maybe a good four or five hundred more miles than he would have guessed. 

Was it a road trip and an end-all be-all drinkfest? What the fuck? Sherry is going to tear me a new one when I get home tonight. He shook his head. Then he realized he wasn’t hung over either. He didn’t even have a headache. His thoughts though were a bit foggy.

After driving for an hour, he pulled to the side and parked in the bike lane. He punched the Hazard lights on.

He then opened the glove compartment looking for his phone. In it, stuffed in the left side was a silver flip phone, maybe one of the old Motorola ones. It was not his IPhone 13. There was nothing else in the compartment. His registration paperwork and insurance papers were all missing.

He retrieved the phone and examined it. It was fully charged, had the current time of 3:52 AM on it as well as the date 9/18/2029, but nothing else on the display. There were no contacts listed. He checked the history and only one listed number that had been called. It wasn’t familiar,but he dialed it anyway.

It rang three times before am automated robotic voice answered. “Kristopher Anthony Todd. Pending. 23 days.”

It disconnected without even prompting him to leave a voicemail message. 

Pending what? And what did it mean by 23 days? 

Starting to feel anxious and his temper beginning to boil, he again put the car in Drive. It was time to find the freaking exit!

Another hour passed in The Long Stretch. Kris swore the ceiling was lowering and the lanes were getting narrower. His world was crushing in on him. When the odometer hit 56412 — another hundred miles since he first checked, he hit the brakes and screamed in helplessness. He pounded his fists on the dash so hard a crack suddenly formed and split the smooth rubbery surface.

“Goddamn it! Where am —“

A flash of memory cut his thoughts off. Sherry was next to the dresser in their master bedroom. She was standing in a pink and purple pajama top and panties. He was coming out of the bathroom, shouting and stumbling. He was very drunk. His shirt was unbuttoned and had fresh drink stains. She was screaming, “I am sick of your lies!” 

He had screamed, “Shut that bitch mouth!” right before he swung wildly and punched her. She flew back sprawled across the bed.

Guilt and shame washed over his features. So they did fight. He did get drunk and that’s why he could not remember. 

Yet something nagged at him. The memory seemed distant. Wasn’t that months ago, he questioned himself. 

Kris pressed hard on the gas pedal. No one was around so he got close to 110 on the speedometer. He was going to get to the damn exit and he was going to get there now!

An hour and a half passed. Nothing of the tunnel had changed. No other cars appeared. He was starting to question whether he even woke that morning. Started to question his sanity.

Eventually, the Thunderbird sputtered then stalled as it ran out of battery power. He opened the door and walked in front of the car with his hands on his hips as he tried to figure what to do next.

The dent is gone! His inner voice  shouted at him. This wasn’t his car after all! Just the same make and model. He looked at the key fob and popped the trunk. Inside was an interesting trove of items. There was a package of bottled water next to a rolled up sleeping bag. A camouflaged backpack had food stuffs and a copy of The Green Mile by Stephen King which happened to be one of his favorite novels. 

“Well we have everything we need, Dorothy. Let’s follow that yellow brick road after all!”

Kris took the items and as many of the water bottles he could cram in the sleeping bag and backpack.

Another instant vision exploded inside his mind. Sherry was in the backyard running. The side of her face and neck were bleeding profusely from deep slashes. He was also running, covered in blood. 

The blood was not his.

He stood there shaking. The nightmare memory hitting him hard at his core. “What did I do, babe? Oh God…”

He started walking again trying to clear his thoughts of the vision.

Kris struck his palm against his temple. He could call for help with the flip phone!

He dialed their house, praying she was alright and could answer the phone. Another robotic voice answered instead.

“The phone number you have dialed is invalid. Please check—“ 

Kris hung up, cursing and muttering under his breath. He dialed his work. 

“The phone number you have dialed—“ 

Dialed his mother.

“The—“

How about this? He punched in 9 1 1.

“The phone number you have dialed is invalid. Please check your number and try again.”

Sighing loudly, he called the only number that seemed to work. The robotic message came back on again.   

“Kristopher Anthony Todd. Pending. 39 days.”

Kris scoffed. He had no idea what it all meant. He continued his hike. 

At one point, he stopped and camped in the bike lane. He slept five hours on the cold tarmac, but the sleep was filled with chaotic, frantic dreams.

The infinite road went on and on. His feet blistered from the dress shoes. He ditched his suit jacket and his blue tie. 

Seven hours later he made another stop to sleep. The cell phone told him ““Kristopher Anthony Todd. Pending. 47 days.” 

At 4:12 PM the next day, he spotted something new! It was at first only a dark and square object. When he walked closer he realized it was the same car he abandoned. The trunk was still wide open. 

Kris sank to his knees, broken and exhausted. How was this happening? Why was this happening? What do—

A tall slender man opened the driver’s door and climbed out. He wore a blue jumpsuit with a black leather belt. Under a police officer’s hat, the light-skinned man had on large reflecting sunglasses. His face had almost no clear shapes or details. He was blocky, similar to one of those people his nephew would make in his Minecraft video games. However, in the man’s right hand, he carried a black pistol.

Kris lunged and  bolted back down the roadway. He pulled out the cell again.

He dialed by reflex 9 1 1.

An actual human answered this time. A serious but pleasant female voice said, “State the nature of your emergency please.”

“Please! Please help me,” he shouted, panting from his exertion. 

“State the nature of your emergency please.”

“I’m being chased. He has a gun! I don’t know why or where I am!”

“Prisoner 56312, Kristopher Anthony Todd. Sentenced into CRIOSYS 65 days ago. Final appeal DENIED. Your execution date has been approved and moved to today 9/18/2029. Please remain still.”

“FUCK YOU, LADY!” He screamed back and threw the phone hard to the ground. 

The past year of arrest, court, press conferences,  prison, images of Sherry’s corpse — all rushed back to him. He had been charged and sentenced to die for killing his wife, Sherry Diane Todd almost a year ago. On Death Row, he had been forced into a new experimental AI-generated prison called CRIOSYS. 

Kris didn’t care about anything at that moment. He only ran. He knew he had to. His body may be lying in some cold storage, but his mind and soul were here in The Long Stretch! In order to live again, he couldn’t stop running. He wouldn’t!

The eruption of the gun, two blasts, the shock of the sounds, and the agonizing bloody holes opening in his chest struck him all at once. 

Kristopher Anthony Todd was no longer Pending.