Author Archives: Aaron

About Aaron

Writer extraordinaire...well, I mean, I write, you know?

A Moment with Scott Kinkade

God School by Scott Kinkade

God School by Scott Kinkade

Scott and I connected on LinkedIn after a discussion about the professed death of LinkedIn groups. To that effect, I made an offer to anyone who would like to guest post on my blog, and Scott was the first to take me up on that offer. Since I told him to post about anything, he decided to let everyone know that God School will be free on Amazon for a limited time.

18-year-old Ev Bannen was just hoping to get admitted to college. He never expected to be recruited to a school for gods, where he’ll be spending his days building up his strength, learning to answer prayers and getting an education in religion alongside aspiring god of money Jaysin Marx, the lovely but troubled Maya Brünhart and anger-prone ginger Daryn Anders. But the organization of evil gods, Zero Grade, has plans to unleash hell on earth, and Ev and his friends soon become targets. What’s more, someone close to Ev is not who they claim to be, and their betrayal may doom mankind forever. Ev steps up to save the day, but does he even stand a chance in hell of defeating a legendary deity?

Second edition published June 2018. It fixes the errors in the original.

Download God School from Amazon

You may have noticed the snippet at the end of the blurb about fixing errors….

The truth is that every writer’s every project is prone to innumerable errors, and as I have written copiously myself about this very subject, I’m happy to reiterate; your spelling and grammar software can not replace a human editor. Here’s what Scott has to say on that same topic.

Imagine going to the Amazon page for your books and seeing reviews about how your work needs to be edited before release. How would it make you feel? Would it make you question your writing skills? Well, it certainly didn’t make me feel so good. But it did kick my butt into gear and set me on the path to being a great proofreader.

But let’s rewind a bit. More specifically, let’s go back to 2010 when I self-published my first novel, Mirai: A Promise to Tomorrow. I was so proud of that book. And you know what? It sucked. Nobody liked it. I don’t even like it.

However, it was a necessary learning experience. It taught me valuable lessons I would need for my next novel, The Game Called Revolution. That one ended up being much better received. I would go on to publish seven more novels… and on none of them would I use SpellCheck. I was so confident of my proofreading ability, I thought I didn’t need them. Well, you saw the above reviews. Obviously, my skill wasn’t up to snuff.

Then, last year, I left a stable job and couldn’t find a new one. I was burning through my savings at an alarming rate, and something needed to be done. It was around May 2018 that I found Caitlin Pyle’s online “Proofread Anywhere” course, and I realized I could become a proofreader and live the self-employed dream.

Caitlin’s course taught me the in’s and out’s of proofreading, and it came with numerous exercises to hone my skills with. Now I have real confidence in my abilities and am ready to put them to work for clients. I founded Proofread Excelsior LLC last year, primed to tackle the challenge of growing my own company.

But you may be asking yourself, “Why do I need a proofreader? I’ll just use SpellCheck.” Take a look at the following picture of my current WIP.

 

proof

I proofread that after I ran multiple spelling and grammar programs. It’s proof positive that you can’t rely on them. You need a trained human eye on your work.

Now, I’ve seen people make the argument that “I’m an indie author and so my work doesn’t need to be held to the same standard as mainstream books. That’s not what it’s about.” Let’s say your book is poorly edited but you publish it anyway. You’ll surely get fans that don’t care about the shoddy work. But your book won’t go on to become a classic. It won’t achieve the success it could have had. It will die in obscurity.

It’s all about respect. You need your writing to be as polished as possible so people take it seriously. And, really, you’ve got to be able to take pride in what you do.

I agree with Scott on the fact that all work needs to be properly polished before release, but I have also found that many people who call themselves “editors” can’t read or write their way out of a paper bag, so for all of you out there who want to know how to find a good editor, I have one piece of advice: Go through my editing and free resources tab.

I also want to stress that proofreading and editing are two different animals. Proofreading is the means by which another reader finds technical errors in a written work. Editing is the artful ability to transform a sequential account of events into a story worth reading.

Nevertheless, proofreading is paramount because your mind will see what it expects to see, and your software just won’t do the job right, so be sure to drop by proofreadexcelsior.com

Thanks, everyone for reading this guest post by Scott Kinkade. Don’t forget to check out his books on Amazon!

 

 

My Family Guy script for The Item

family guy

family guy

I woke up at 1 43 am and wrote this on February 12th of 2019. It took me less than 3 hours.

The Item, a Family Guy episode written by Aaron Dennis of www.storiesbydennis.com

This screenplay is based on Family Guy, a Fox show. Feel free, Fox TV, to adapt as much of it as you like.

Enjoy The Item

Peter is driving a little cart in a mall during closing hour. He’s driving some old woman through a lingerie store towards the exit. It looks like maybe she works there.

Peter: Night, Beatrice.

Beatrice: Good night, Peter.

She steps off the cart at the glass door. Peter opens it, knocks her out with one punch, and pushes her out the door with his foot.

Cut to Brian who is looking at a corpse in a Brookstone. There are lots of recliners.

Brian thinks: Man, I haven’t seen Peter kill anyone in forever.

Cut scene to 45 minutes earlier when Peter stabs a teenage girl who was taking a picture with her cell phone. He grabs the phone and runs off screen.

Back to Brian rifling through the corpse’s inner jacket pocket. You see he is looking at an item in his hand, but you don’t see the item. He pockets it. Brian is then walking up an escalator, which is off. Before he reaches the top, Peter rolls up in the cart and begins to drive it down the escalator. Brian flips out but manages to hop into the cart unharmed.

Peter: Hold your horses. Hold your horses. Hold your horses.

They barely make it to the bottom of the escalator, gingerly reach the doors, and then Peter floors it through the glass doors.

Mall parking lot.

Peter: Where does the saying hold your horses come from?

Brian: It’s from the past, when people stopped and held their horses.

Cut scene to 50 minutes earlier. The teenage girl has her phone out and is telling Peter and Brian to hold their horses.

Peter: God, you’re beautiful.

He and the horse are hugging and staring lovingly into each others’ eyes. Peter can’t help but to kiss the horse. The horse kisses back. Peter flips out because the girl is still taking pictures, so he kills her and takes her phone.

Mall parking lot.

Peter: Did you find it?

Brian: It was in the Brookstone manager’s pocket. How did you manage to miss it?

Peter shrugs.

Show opens. Peter and Brian are inspecting the item in the kitchen, but you still don’t get to see it when Lois walks in.

Lois: What’re you two up to? You’ve been acting weird all evening.

Peter: Nuh-uh, you’re the one who is actin’ all weird.

Lois sighs: You’re acting even goofier than when you were possessed by the ghost of Dr. Mengele.

Cut scene to Peter in an SS outfit sewing Meg and Chris back to back.

Brian is standing by plucking petals off a daisy, saying: I love you. I love you not. I love you. I love you not.

Chris: Ow! Dad! Please, stop it. I’m supposed to be watching my educational program!

Meg: Yeah, get off of us, you fuck tard!

Peter finishes sewing them and runs off. Chris shuffles over to a remote and presses the button. You hear porn sounds. He looks happy. Meg looks despondent.

Back to kitchen.

Brian: That wasn’t as bad as when you got Stewie that Ka-Ge-Ki machine.

Cut scene to Stewie. He is the Ka-Ge-Ki guy in jeans fighting The Motorcycle Gang Warriors from the arcade game.

Back to kitchen.

Lois: Well, just promise me you’ll stay out of trouble. Our lawyer bill is already puttin’ us in the poor house.

She starts pulling groceries from the fridge to cook dinner. Peter and Brian walk outside.

Outdoors.

Brian: So, what do we do now?

Peter: Quagmire was in the Navy. Maybe, he knows someone who can help us out.

They walk to Glen’s home.

Quagmire: Get that big, brown ass inside. I’m gonna’ throw a saddle on you, and ride you so—! Peter, what-uh, what’s up?

As Peter and Brian approach Quagmire, a horse walks up to Glen’s opened door. You see the horse and Peter exchange a somber glance.

Peter mutters: Slut. Hey, listen, Quagmire, Brian and I found somethin’ interestin’. We figured maybe you know some seamen what can help us out.

Brian: I think he means someone in Naval Intelligence.

Quagmire: What is it?

You see they are showing Glen the item, and he looks puzzled.

Quagmire: Where’d you get it?

Peter: Never mind that. You know anyone?

Glen looks displeased. He gives Brian a dirty look.

Quagmire: My dad might.

Brian looks uncomfortable, and says: Maybe, I should, uh, be getting off of this ride….

Peter: Nonsense. Who cares that you fucked Quagmire’s dad. It’s the 90’s!

Brian: It isn’t, but you’re right. We’re all about tolerance now. A straight guy can nail a dude who identifies as a girl, and he’s not gay, so—

Quagmire: Alright! Alright! Alright! Just go home. I’ll call ya’ in the morning.

Back in the house, everyone is sitting down for dinner.

Lois: Anyone seen Stewie?

Cut scene to Stewie fighting another Ka-Ge-Ki guy.

Back to dinner table.

Peter: I ain’t seen ‘im.

Lois: Well, I’m gettin’ worried. I’m gonna’ check on him. Chris, eat your vegetables.

Meg: Yeah, Chris, eat your vegetables.

As Lois leaves, she mutters: I shoulda’ had those abortions.

Joe and the police are inspecting the mall, which is an obvious crime scene. Cleveland walks up, and the entire police force draws their guns on him.

Cleveland: A black man can’t even get a damn Orange Julius.

Peter, Glen, Ida, and Brian are meeting up in someone’s old, beat up RV. The twitchy guy is looking over the item, which you still can’t see it. Ida smiles awkwardly at Brian, and Glen grumbles.

Peter: So? What do ya’ think?

Navy guy: Nowadays, people are storing information in all kinds of trinkets. I’m not really sure what this is.

Peter: Bitcoin? Is it Bitcoin?

Ida: What’s Bitcoin?

Brian: A joke.

Quagmire: I mean, where do you spend it? I’ve tried to use it at every online porn shop I can find, but even the Chinese sex doll shop in Shenzhen doesn’t take it.

Navy guy: Yeah, it isn’t Bitcoin, but it sure does look like an information storage device. Where did you say you got it?

Peter: I killed the Brookstone guy for it.

Quagmire: Why?

Peter: It was shiny, and I wanted it.

Brian shakes his head, adding: I’m the one who recovered it.

Peter: And you’re a good boy, Brian.

Brian shyly shuffles his foot, saying: Well, shucks, Peter.

Navy guy: Well, if you ask me, it’s probably secret black ops data. Like deep, dark stuff; the kind of deep, dark stuff you know you’re not supposed to get into, but damn does it look good.

Brian and Ida glance at each other, and Ida mutters: I love it when someone gets in deep and dark.

Quagmire: For fuck’s sake.

At the Griffin house, on the couch, the family is watching TV. Tom Tucker is talking about the mall crime scene.

Tucker: Quahog police believe this is the work of Donald Trump, who so obviously wants to find a new animal to glue to his scalp. In other news, a gang comprised of what appear to be a bunch of Japanese calling themselves The Motorcycle Gang Warriors is terrorizing the city. If only we had a wall.

Kinney: That’s right, but fortunately one fighter can stand up to them.

Cut scene to Stewie fighting another Ka-Ge-Ki guy.

Back to news.

Tucker: We’re all just waiting for Tom Brady and the Patriots to get back out on the field and embarrass the rest of the NFL. Now, Ollie with the weather.

Ollie: It’s hot!

Tucker: Thanks, Ollie.

Lois: I hope Stewie didn’t get out. It sounds like this town is goin’ to shit.

Meg: Maybe, you should get off your ass and go find your baby.

Peter: Shut up, Meg.

Lois: Whatever happened with that thing you were gonna’ show Ida?

Peter: This thing? No one knows what the hell it is.

Lois takes it. You see her inspecting it. She hands it back to Peter.

Lois: Well, if it ain’t a vacuum cleaner, I can’t help you.

Peter holds up a gold coin, and says: Everyone is stupid but me.

He unwraps the coin and eats a chocolate coin.

Brian: You committed murder for a chocolate coin?!

Peter: That’s right, Brian, but not just any chocolate coin. It was the first chocolate coin…made fresh this mornin’.

Stewie strolls up still dressed like the Ka-Ge-Ki guy. There’s no room on the couch.

Stewie: Make some room before I start beatin’ some ass.

You hear the game ask: Are you ready? Then, the Ka-Ge-Ki music starts up.

The end, assholes.

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. I also hope someone helps me get this thing produced. I really don’t even care about money, I just wan the credit for writing a Family Guy episode.

I know the show’s dynamics have changed, but if you ask me, the writers have all forgotten how to write jokes. Family Guy is supposed to be about jokes and 80’s references. I don’t need a cartoon trying to teach me the “right way” to live life, but I sure do want to rot my brain out for 30 minutes, so, yeah, share this please.

Also, here’s a link to Ka-Ge-Ki, so you can see it!

 

How to make money writing

money

I met an acquaintance for lunch. He works for a book review company, and we were speaking about writers. He went on to say that independent writers are just terrible.

I asked him why he held that opinion, and he enumerated his reasons; the story is sloppy, the plot meanders, the pacing has issues, the characters and dialogue feel contrived, and overall, they just don’t seem to understand how to write.

Playing devil’s advocate, I asked him what made mainstream writing superior, and he replied that mainstream writing doesn’t suffer from the same pitfalls.

I then asked if that meant that every book he reviewed by a mainstream writer was perfect.

He said no. There were several books by mainstream writers that he read that were quite bad.

I asked if they suffered from any of the same downfalls he had enumerated regarding independent writers, and he admitted that that was the case.

I pointed out that mainstream writers have editors, and before I finished, he interrupted, saying that that was a problem for independent writers. They don’t use editors. They just write a story and think it’s ready for publication.

I went on to finish my thought; mainstream editors must not be that great if mainstream books suffer from the same pitfalls as independent writers. He frowned and didn’t know what to say.

I then pointed out that independent writers do in fact hire editors to clean up their manuscripts, but they don’t know that the editors they’ve hired are crackpots. How can they know? Who is there to tell them?

He nodded, but added that there are plenty of competent editors out there who not only work for publishers, they also do freelance work.

Yes. I agreed. I told him the real problem isn’t independent writing, or writers. The real problem is the independent publishing system. It’s too easy, too accessible.

I can sit down and pound out one page of crap in 2 minutes. I can have it published to the whole world, even major book distributors, in 5 minutes.

He said that was indeed the problem. Someone needs to sit down with these independent writers and explain to them what they should do after they write a story and before they publish it, but that all that information was available.

Indeed it is, but no one is forcing these writers to access that information.

In the world of major publishing, it’s very difficult to have a story published. There are numerous checkpoints along the way.

Let’s assume a new writer has just completed their manuscript, and they want to achieve major publication. The first step is to query an agent. If the agent likes the query, they’ll want to see the manuscript. If they like the manuscript, they then want to know how large the writer’s fan base is. Which awards have they won? What other publications do they have? Is their story marketable to a wide enough audience for the publisher to make a profit?

Then, if everything looks good, the agent goes off to query publishers. When a publisher finds an interesting manuscript, they provide the writer a contract. The publisher then has its own checkpoints.

They design a cover. They pick the title. Their marketing department designs the blurb and marketing strategy. Editors clean up the manuscript for a broader audience. Every effort is made to provide that book with the highest possible chance for success.

Who is doing any of this for independent writers? Who teaches them how to write a proper query? Who is teaching them which agent is best? How do they win awards or build a fan base if they’ve never published before?

Who is teaching them how to find an editor? Who is teaching them which is editor is best? Who is teaching them how to design a cover, pick a title, or write a proper blurb? Who is paying for services rendered? Who is then selling their book?

I pointed out to my acquaintance that there’s nothing wrong with independent writers or their writing. They’re just working blindly, alone through an enigmatic system that isn’t designed to help them succeed. It’s only designed to allow them accessibility.

He agreed.

I added that the mainstream publishers have made it even more difficult for great writers to succeed, and that the ones who are succeeding aren’t doing so because of their superior writing; they’re succeeding because they have a better understanding of the publishing system.

There are also hundreds of independent writers who have done so well on their own that major publishing houses approach them in order to sell them a contract. He agreed again.

The truth is that there are innumerable, amazing writers out there. They are so creative and imaginative, and they have these phenomenal tales to tell, but they are just clueless when it comes to presenting those stories, and they are clueless on how to distribute those stories. They are also very, very impulsive; they get their great idea, they think they can pound it out in a month during NaNoWriMo, and then run off and publish it for the world to see.

No. No. No.

All of these writers need to slow down, like, way, way down.

These writers then think they need to join these contrived writer groups who promise to make their stories available to hundreds of thousands of readers.

Now, I’m not talking about peer editing groups, or groups of writers who work together to share their knowledge. I’m talking about those groups, which act like distributors; the groups that accept books. That’s really what they’re doing; they’re signing up new books, not new writers, and they promise to sell those books to consumers, but they don’t actually do that. They just try to engage those writers in joining blog tours, giveaways, and review exchanges, but none of those things are effective because there are no consumers there. No one is going to those groups looking for a new book to buy.

What a writer needs to do is slow down.

Write that story. Get it all down. Fill it with absolutely everything. Then, step back. Stay away from that story. Forget all about it. After months, go back and read it as a reader.

The writer will then notice redundancies, plot holes, pacing issues, and an overall sense of confusion because the story is no longer fresh in their mind. That’s the time for the rewrite.

Some chapters will be too long and boring. Some will be too short and feel rushed. The contrived dialogue must be rewritten to sound like organic conversation. Some passages will have to be restructured and organized. There can be found better and more clear and concise ways to provide information. All the extra fluff–the stuff that doesn’t add anything to the story–will have to be cut.

Once the rewrite is complete, that writer will then need to make that story available to a very small, niche audience. To do this, one simply asks for beta-readers. Beta-readers come in all shapes and sizes, though, and some of them will skim  over a 100,000 word book in a day or two, and their feedback cannot be productive.

Did you read Harry Potter in a day? Did you read it only once? You have to read a book slowly, numerous times to get all there is to get from it.

The good beta-readers will take their time to figure out what they like about a story. They take their time to figure what they didn’t like. They will explain why it was good or bad, and what they would like to see change.

It’s that writer’s duty to take all that constructive criticism and apply it if they believe it will enhance their book. However, enhancing that book doesn’t mean making it better in the eyes of the writer. It means making it a better experience for the reader, and that’s another problem.

No one is teaching this simple concept: Write for you. Publish for your audience.

The version of Harry Potter that you read and loved is not the version that Rowling wrote. It’s the version the editors cleaned. It’s the version the publisher approved.

Now, during the time it takes to secure beta-readers and receive feedback, the writer should be experimenting with different covers, titles, and blurbs. They should also be shopping for editors.

After the second rewrite is accomplished with the help received from beta-readers, the writer needs to hire an editor. A real editor will spend at least a few weeks carefully reading the book. Their job is to take that sequential account of events and transform it into a story that readers will enjoy experiencing.

While the editor is doing this, and hopefully communicating their thoughts with that writer, the writer should be talking about their story with an audience. Otherwise, who will be buying the book once it’s published?

Eventually, the writer will receive feedback from their editor. A good editor’s advice should be taken to heart, and their changes should be made, not for the writer’s sake, but for the readers’. Once those changes are employed, the writer needs again to step back, and forget all about their story. After a few months, they need to go back and read it again as a reader, but they also need to consider what kind of publishing is best for them.

If they want major publication, they need to consider all those concepts provided earlier; finding the right agent, proper querying, and perhaps even hiring a review agency, which reviews arcs, so they can prove their story will be appealing to a large public.

Most of these services will be expensive, and a lot of people don’t want to spend money, but an independent writer can’t even hope to compete against major publishing all on their own. The big houses have endless resources. Being an independent writer doesn’t mean doing everything alone; it just means being responsible for everything.

My acquaintance and I discussed all these concepts at length. We both agreed that if such a methodology was employed by all writers, it would no longer matter if a book was published by a major house or self published. Of course, the number of sales can vary greatly since the big houses include marketing and advertising departments. In the case of independently published writers, they will then need to spend more money to purchase book release services, but here’s the thing; major publication forces a writer to spend a ton of money anyway, more than you might imagine.

Let’s assume this writer does go the mainstream route. The contract is signed. The book is perfected and released. The big house offers a $2,000 advance. That’s an advance, a promise that the book will recoup that $2,000 within the first six months to a year of publication. If it doesn’t, that writer might lose their contract and their edited version of the book, title, cover, and blurb because the company owns all those rights.

Now, if the book is successful, at least $2,000 must be earned by the publisher before any royalties are paid to the writer. In order increase the chances of this occurring, the publisher will instruct the writer to purchase 5,000 copies of their own book. This automatically places that book on The New York Times Best Seller list, so everyone can say, “Hey, it’s a best seller, so you should buy it, too!”

5,000 copies of a book at cost is still very expensive, probably about $25,000. Then, that writer, who is under contract to do all this is, is instructed to parade around the country and sell their book in person, on their own dime. The company books the events, but the writer has to cover their own expenses, so a year of touring adds another $25,000 to that writer’s expenses.

Suddenly, that $2,000 advance doesn’t seem so great, and this is precisely why most writers have day jobs. Of course, if they survive their first year, they ‘re in a great spot; they can easily secure publication of any book they write after that first one, but it still won’t guarantee that the royalties will outweigh the cost of touring the second book.

It takes quite a few books and many, nerve-wracking years to achieve financial independence. That’s why you get writers like Ursula K. Leguin, who have been published by major houses for years, who go out and set up GoFundMe accounts, asking consumers to cover all these costs.

In the end, it doesn’t matter if a writer is independent or mainstream. There are millions of mainstream writers you’ve never heard of, who have day jobs. It is very difficult to become a wage-earning writer, and there should be no rush in trying to achieve that.

Another offer made by mainstream houses is a chance to option movie rights. The best selling writers’ books are always movies. More people read Harry Potter after the movie came out. What writer doesn’t want their book turned into a movie?

Movie options can be obtained by independent writers as well. It isn’t easy. It might cost a pretty penny, and a writer might have to hire a lawyer in order make certain they aren’t being cheated out of royalties from products like action figures, video games, or apparel.

This enigmatic process bypasses millions of writers. That’s why I’ve used my own experiences to outline a strategy that will lead every writer to success.

I don’t promise millions of dollars in revenue, but I do guarantee that any writer who takes their time and studies my strategy can make a profit from their writing. For just 99 cents, I offer you the following:

How to Become a Successful Writer Secrets the Mainstream Publishers Don't Want You to Know by Aaron Dennis

How to Become a Successful Writer Secrets the Mainstream Publishers Don’t Want You to Know by Aaron Dennis

This manual brings to your fingertips all the practical knowledge required to build your long term writing career. Any writer of any level will benefit from the material within this comprehensive guide. From the neophyte to the professional, anyone who reads this book will learn everything from formulating an idea for a story, to practicing the art of the short story, to writing proper fanfiction, and writing an original novel.

This book not only teaches how to write, but also how to market, edit, publish, and all with exercises and even free resources. From start to finish, the ideas presented are done so in an easy to understand and entertaining fashion. By the end of this manual, you will not only know how to write, edit, publish, and market your book, but you’ll know what kind of publishing is right for you.

Why don’t publishing companies want you to know these secrets? Publishers run an exclusive good ole’ boy club, and in doing so, they choose who they help to succeed, and who they help to fail, but when you learn these secrets, you’ll know that no writer needs a publisher in today’s internet age. Bypassing a publishing company not only allows you to maintain control and earn the bulk of your income, but it relegates the old, dinosaur, publishing companies to obscurity.

Buy How to Become a Successful Writer from Barnes and Noble

For just 99 cents, you will learn at least one thing that will help you to earn more money from your writing. You know 99 cents is worth making just a few more sales every month, but if you’re still not convinced, that’s okay. I provide everyone with numerous free resources. Just check out my Editing Services and Free Resources tab. You can enjoy numerous articles regarding all aspect of writing and publishing.

Thanks for reading this post. I wish you success throughout your writing journey.

The Cayneian Audiobook is now Available

Cayneian: A Man From Blood By Aaron Dennis

Cayneian: A Man From Blood
By Aaron Dennis

A man stands resolved. Dysart, clan Bloodhammer, has returned to the island of Volgunther to purge it of the evil called Salamandrus. He has given his tongue, so that he may speak no contracts. He has given his manhood, so that he may not know his power as a man. He has given his mind, so that no God may take pity upon him.
Wielding the forbidden power of Sang Daemanus, Dysart imbibes the blood of Daemons to cast his spells, to grow his strength, to fuel his powers, but will he be able to stave off the bloodlust before the evils upon the island claim him?

Check out this Kirkus review on Cayneian, A Man from Blood:

This series opener sees a warrior determined to free an island from a Daemon’s grasp.
Dysart of clan Bloodhammer has lost his sloop and is now washed ashore on the island of Volgunther. He’s immediately
set upon by savages, but thankfully a man named Talbot saves Dysart with his bow and arrows. At his nearby cabin,
Talbot learns that his guest has no tongue. Then Dysart draws a rune in hog’s blood on his throat, which allows him to
speak. He explains that his people, the Cayne, once inhabited the island. They also woke a Daemon called Salamandrus,
making a pact with the entity for power that involved the ritual of Sang Daemanus. Later, they sealed the Daemon away,
but “instead of ending their service to Salamandrus, they departed from this place, hoping to retain their power.” Dysart
has come to end his people’s accord and make Volgunther a hospitable island once more. After obtaining an axe and
other supplies from Talbot, he travels east toward a settlement. He saves a pyromancer named Randall from wolf men
and drinks their blood to receive heightened senses and healing abilities. But Dysart concludes that his rune for speech
will fade without the esper oil derived from a plant somewhere on the island. Randall joins him, and they head for Etmire
Abbey, where they encounter the Order of the Cross. Dysart will need every ally he can find as he battles through
monstrous hordes toward Salamandrus’ lair in Castle Golvundehr.
Dennis (War and Glory, 2017, etc.) squeezes all the gore he can from his muscular imagination to enhance his novel,
which recalls the viscera-strewn adventures of fantasy icons like Conan and Elric. Readers learn early on about Dysart’s
magic: “Animal blood is effective, if weak. Human blood is potent, if unsavory…but Daemon’s blood makes us
unstoppable.” This results in a marathon of grisly dispatches—encounters with frog men, murderous plants, zombies,
and worse—that propel the hero but also fuel his addiction to power. While the plot is somewhat linear, the gruesome
premise shines blackly throughout. Dysart not only needs blood, but he’s also traded his tongue, his testicles (“that we
might not realize our own power as humans”), and his mind as an initiate of Sang Daemanus. Fighting at his side are
characters like Pattius, a thief; Marcus, a knight; and Reman, a young orphan. The author often fleshes out these warriors
just enough to draw from readers a meaningful wince as he sacrifices them to Dysart’s cause. A dreadful ambience
hovers even in quieter moments, as in the line “Only darkened hills loomed in the distance. Everything else was flat
grassland molded by gusts of wind.” The dialogue during combat scenes is appropriately maniacal (“Blast you, croakers!
Fall to the wrath of Randall!”), yet Dysart is capable of speaking beautifully. In cautioning Talbot, whose family is dead,
he says: “Hold their memory dearly, and do not rush to see them.” Though the violence grows monotonous, a finale
bristling with invention redeems the work.
A bloodbath that should impress readers of the grimmest fantasy tales.

This review is attributed to “Kirkus Reviews”, and you can follow the link to my review on their site.

For now, the Cayneian audiobook is available through a couple of retailers. More retailers will be making the audiobook available over the next few weeks.

Buy Cayneian on Google Play

Buy Cayneian on Scribd

Buy Cayneian on Nook Audiobooks

You can still download the ebook for free until January 1st, 2019 via Smashwords

Finally, I have 30 giveaway codes for the new audiobook! If you already have an Authors Direct account, the book will simply appear instantly in your library, ready to play. If you don’t have an account, visit authors-direct.com/redeem to enter your giveaway Code and email address. They’ll automatically create an account and send a link to download the Authors Direct app, where the audiobook will be waiting in your library.

Since I only have 30 giveaway codes, I can only give them to the first 30 people who email me, asking for a code, so don’t be shy! Email me right now dennis@storiesbydennis.com and ask for a Cayneian giveaway code.

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett, Epic the First

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett, Epic, the First, is an ongoing compilation of adventures. I have recently begun to combine the short stories and have edited them to read as chapters in a novel, and yet they retain their individuality. I am proud and very happy to bring them together in this first epic.

the adventures of larson and garrett epic the first

the adventures of larson and garrett epic the first

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett began long, long ago when I was a lad, myself; I used to spend one night a week rolling dice while our dungeon master, David, narrated the outstanding story. Eventually, those who lacked the sobriety required to survive the adventures died off, and Larson and Garrett were the only two heroes to remain, and yet the other members; those who died, those who wandered off, those who came and went are remembered.

Let it be said that the Adventures of Larson and Garrett are in no way plagiarized; these are not cut and pasted transcripts from sessions of Dungeons and Dragons, no. The Adventures of Larson and Garrett outgrew their own medium, and they took on a life of their own, a life that no longer adhered to the rules and regulations; they became an entity, a thing-in-itself, and after many, many years, they have been recreated.

The following compilation of stories are very loosely based on just a handful of gaming sessions, and to be perfectly honest, little more than the characters themselves have been replicated, yet the spirit of the sessions has remained, and I want to pass them on to you, but act soon.

Once the first novel has been edited to completion and published, I will be removing the free short stories, however, the novel will remain free for download for a limited period. For now, I just want to share the stories, though, so be sure to nab these awesome adventures now!

You can download the first ten stories for free here. The link is for the whole series!

The Sleeping Tree

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett The Sleeping Tree By Aaron Dennis

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett The Sleeping Tree
By Aaron Dennis

A Werewolf in the Dark

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett A Werewolf in the Dark By Aaron Dennis

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett A Werewolf in the Dark
By Aaron Dennis

Infestation

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett Infestation By Aaron Dennis

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett Infestation
By Aaron Dennis

Trouble in Atjibur

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett Trouble in Atjibur By Aaron Dennis

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett Trouble in Atjibur
By Aaron Dennis

Garrett’s Tale

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett Garrett's Tale By Aaron Dennis

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett Garrett’s Tale
By Aaron Dennis

On to Xorinth

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett On to Xorinth By Aaron Dennis

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett On to Xorinth
By Aaron Dennis

Investigating trouble

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett Investigating Trouble By Aaron Dennis

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett Investigating Trouble
By Aaron Dennis

On the Honor of Thieves

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett On the Honor of Thieves By Aaron Dennis

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett On the Honor of Thieves
By Aaron Dennis

Assault in Stormguard

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett Assault in Stormguard By Aaron Dennis

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett Assault in Stormguard
By Aaron Dennis

A people Defiled

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett A People Defiled By Aaron Dennis

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett A People Defiled
By Aaron Dennis

How to Become a Successful Writer by Aaron Dennis

How to Become a Successful Writer Secrets the Mainstream Publishers Don't Want You to Know by Aaron Dennis

How to Become a Successful Writer Secrets the Mainstream Publishers Don’t Want You to Know by Aaron Dennis

Do you read much?

What kind of career have you considered?

Do you enjoy writing? Have you even thought about writing a book? Or writing poetry? Or maybe just writing some short stories?

Do you know anything about editing or publishing manuscripts?

Maybe, you do read, and you do write, but you don’t really know what it means to clean up your writing for an audience, and you don’t really know how to publish your work. That’s okay.

Maybe, you’ve tried to write, but you can’t come up with an idea. Maybe, you think your idea is just a rip-off of an existing idea. That’s okay, too.

Maybe, you’ve been writing for a few years, and you even published some books, but literary agents won’t take you seriously, your writing groups aren’t helping you sell, and you just can’t seem to attract that target audience. It happens.

Regardless of where you are in your life, in your writing career, if you’re so much as considering putting thoughts into words, you need to check out How to Become a Successful Writer: Secrets the Mainstream Publishers Don’t Want You to Know by Aaron Dennis.

This manual brings to your fingertips all the practical knowledge required to build your long term writing career. Any writer of any level will benefit from the material within this comprehensive guide. From the neophyte to the professional, anyone who reads this book will learn everything from formulating an idea for a story, to practicing the art of the short story, to writing proper fanfiction, and writing an original novel.

This book not only teaches how to write, but also how to market, edit, publish, and all with exercises and even free resources. From start to finish, the ideas presented are done so in an easy to understand and entertaining fashion. By the end of this manual, you will not only know how to write, edit, publish, and market your book, but you’ll know what kind of publishing is right for you.

Why don’t publishing companies want you to know these secrets? Publishers run an exclusive good ole’ boy club, and in doing so, they choose who they help to succeed, and who they help to fail, but when you learn these secrets, you’ll know that no writer needs a publisher in today’s internet age. Bypassing a publishing company not only allows you to maintain control and earn the bulk of your income, but it relegates the old, dinosaur, publishing companies to obscurity.

How to Become a Successful Writer Secrets the Mainstream Publishers Don't Want You to Know by Aaron Dennis

How to Become a Successful Writer Secrets the Mainstream Publishers Don’t Want You to Know by Aaron Dennis

Buy it from Smashwords today

For just $.99 you can have all the knowledge at your fingertips. Believe it; there is something you are doing wrong, or something that you are not doing, or something that you’ve misunderstood, or something that someone misconstrued to you, and without reading through How to Become a Successful Writer: Secrets the Mainstream Publishers Don’t Want You to Know, you are setting back your writing career.

Acquiring one simple piece of knowledge can be just what you need to boost your sales. Isn’t that worth $.99?

Acquiring one simple piece of knowledge can be just what you need to better reach your target audience. Isn’t that worth $.99?

Acquiring one simple piece of knowledge can be just what you need to know in order to hire a competent editor. Isn’t that worth $.99?

Acquiring one simple piece of knowledge can be just what you need to begin your writing career and on the right foot. Isn’t that worth $.99?

Acquiring one simple piece of knowledge might just keep you from throwing away 5 years of signing on with a hybrid press claiming to be an independent publisher, and all without them ever selling your book. Isn’t that worth $.99?

For anyone so much as thinking about writing a story; for anyone who has kept their nose to the grindstone for the past 5, 10, 15 years, How to Become a Successful Writer: Secrets the Mainstream Publishers Don’t Want You to Know by Aaron Dennis is an easy to understand guide that not only introduces topics about which you may not know, but it expounds upon numerous topics about which you must know to achieve long term success.

Do yourself a favor and get this book today.

How to Become a Successful Writer Secrets the Mainstream Publishers Don't Want You to Know by Aaron Dennis

How to Become a Successful Writer Secrets the Mainstream Publishers Don’t Want You to Know by Aaron Dennis

Buy it today from Smashwords

Also, don’t forget about my November deal!

smashwords affiliate ebooks sales

smashwords affiliate ebooks sales

Learn more about selling books as an affiliate right here!

Selling ebooks as an affiliate marketer for Smashwords

Happy Halloween, Happy Thanksgivings, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and whatever else. What you celebrate is none of my business. My business is writing, and my business is selling, and I want you to be a part of my business.

 

I’ve talked before about how you can sell ebooks as a Smashwords affiliate without the requirement of any kind of 3rd party software. I’ve talked about how easy it is, how it’s all free, and how I set up my ebook sales in order to ensure that you, the readers, the reviewers, the sellers, are getting the biggest cut.

 

I normally give out 25% of my profits, and sometimes I juice it up to 35%, even 50%, but since the holidays are coming up, I want to do even more for you.

 

It’s no secret that with holidays comes a great deal of spending; the kids want new toys, the wife wants a vacation, the hubby wants new tools; there’s always something. Every year you end up spending more and more money, so I want to make sure that for the entire month of November, you can earn more money.

 

If you haven’t been selling books, my books, I implore you to read this article. How to earn money from reading.

 

If you have been selling books then you already know how easy it is to earn money as an affiliate. Regardless, now is the time to get a jump on selling my ebooks. For the entire month of November, I will be giving you, the sellers of my books, 75% of the profit.

smashwords affiliate ebooks sales

smashwords affiliate ebooks sales

 

If you sell just one book per day, you can still earn nearly 100$ for the month of November. That’s a few gift cards you can buy for the in-laws, or whatever. Of course, if you’ve been selling my ebooks, you’re probably selling two or three a day, maybe even more, and that means that for the month of November you can bring in 500$ by exerting just a little bit of extra effort.

 

Now’s the perfect time to send your friends and family on over to your blog, vlog, or website, and tell them to buy some ebooks as gifts directly from you!

 

Go earn some extra holiday money by selling my books through Smashwords. Your Smashwords account is free; all you need is an email address to get started, so be sure to check out this article, which explains, step-by-step, just how easy it is to start selling ebooks. How to earn money from reading.

 

Thanks for reading. Happy Holidays. Merry Christmas. God Bless, and buy your family some nice gifts with the money you earn from my hard work.

 

To help out, here is the link to my profile on Smashwords so that you have easy access to the list of my ebooks.

Michael Myers ch 4

michael myers halloween

Before I dive into Michael Myers, a Halloween fanfiction, I want to remind everyone that this is pretty much your last chance to get my titles for free or at a discount via Smashwords.

The Smashwords promo ends on July 31st, so get in there now. You don’t have to just get my books; many authors are discounting their titles for the rest of July.

If you don’t have a Smashwords account, it is completely free to make, and many books are always free for download, while most of the rest are reasonably priced, so now is the best time to take advantage of Smashwords.

Anyway, back to Michael Myers, a Halloween fanfiction….

I must admit that while writing this, I ended up keeping Michael as a boy for far longer than I had intended. I also believe this little, horror, fanfiction is going to be a bit longer than I had presumed. Unfortunately, I’m having to divide my time between the Halloween fanfiction, touching up War and Glory, Lokians 3, and setting up The Dragon of Time 3, Dragons Falling (Working title).

There is also another book I’ve finished writing and will probably release that one around Turkey Day, but enough BS. Here’s the fourth chapter of Michael Myers, a Halloween fanfiction….

It had taken two days to get everything under control after Michael and the kids killed Marla, the orderly. Loomis had sent his reports to Lt. Reichstag in the meantime, and when she showed up, she demanded Loomis to show her the boy.

Michael found himself inside one of the rooms with the paper covered bed; the rooms that always had a man in a white coat. He sat on it, crinkling the paper in both hands. There was always an odd smell in the room, something light that made the insides of his nose feel funny.

Disregarding any kind of ordnance, Reichstag, a tall, blonde woman dressed in a black uniform with colorful ribbons, pulled a cigarette from a pack, placed it between her lips, and lit it. She took a long inhalation before blowing out a cloud of smoke. The scent quickly assaulted the boy’s palate; Loomis glanced at her with a wince.

“Separate him from the rest,” Reichstag ordered.

“You want him in B block?”

“A block.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the doctor shook his head when he spoke. Reichstag glared at him. “I have to tell you, he can’t grow up to follow complex orders. He’s not the kind of patient for A block.”

“Leave that to me and Ushiro,” Reichstag was indifferent. “You just make sure he starts getting the proper dosage.”

“He’s too young! Most of A block have already gone through puberty. You remember what happened with Jones. You want a repeat of that?”

Reichstag shoved Loomis by the shoulder, her cigarette dangling from her lips. She took another drag then.

“It doesn’t make any difference. If I have to put him down, I will.”

“You don’t put anybody down,” Loomis frowned. “You have me do it….”

“Then, you’ll do it.”

With that, the woman left. Michael was still crinkling paper when Loomis pulled a stool with wheels from the corner. He sat on it and scooted closer to the boy.

Scrutinizing the gashes and bruises covering the boy, Loomis suffered a moment of doubt or remorse. There wasn’t much of an alternative; Reichstag’s superiors funded Smith’s Grove, and they had placed Loomis in charge because of his service record, and his ingenuity in the field of biology. His job was to create forms of super soldiers, but not every boy and girl was cut out for A block.

“I guess you would have gotten killed one way or another,” Loomis sighed. “Still, B block would have been better; all they do is charge and shoot whatever’s in front of their eyes…but A block…they require precise cognition, forethought, planning. You don’t understand any of that, do you?”

Michael started nodding the way Ushiro had taught him, but Loomis knew it was just an action; he had been trained to nod after a question. Loomis looked to the counter behind him. There was a jar of cotton balls; he took one and placed it in the boy’s hand. He rubbed his face with it. Loomis shook his head in dismay.

 

****

 

Months went by. Michael was relocated to a very bright room. There was a single, padded bed, but there was no space to move around. There were no other children in the room either, but he did have his very own cotton ball.

Every time the lights went out, he went to sleep. When the lights came back on, someone slid a tray of food through a sliding transom. After he ate, Loomis came in to give him a shot, and then he was led through the hallway with a few other kids; most of them were big. None of them ever made eye contact.

Finally, they were herded into a very spacious room. The lights were way overhead. The room had all kids of strange things; there were big, black, rubber tires, there were heavy, round, metal plates, big, red bags. There was even a big square that had stairs and ropes around it. Kids fought each other on it.

Every day, after Ushiro forced them to run drills, he made them fight. Sometimes, something soft was placed over Michael’s eyes; the first time it happened, he just stood there, but someone kept shocking him with the prod and yelling to move—it made sense; if he moved, he didn’t get prodded until he wound up in a spot where he couldn’t move anymore because there was something hard and smooth. Then, he got zapped again. Other times, there were blocky things, which he had to crawl over or climb onto, but after a while, Michael learned how to move without being shocked at all.

By honing his other senses, the boy quickly memorized Ushiro’s maze. One time, he even smelled Reichstag’s cigarette, and he heard her voice; she was there, speaking to Ushiro.

“He’s pretty good for a rug rat,” she said.

“Yeah, but the bigger kids still whip his ass in the ring. He’s got guts, and I don’t think he feels pain, but he sure as Hell hates the prod. Fortunately, he’s learned to stop trying to take it from me, and at the end of it all, he’s just happy to get back to his room and diddle his face with cotton.”

Reichstag laughed. “Loomis says he’s responding to the drugs, too.”

“Yeah, he must’ve already grown two inches and packed on some muscle, but I have to admit…I think Loomis might’ve been right….”

“About?” Reichstag sounded angry.

“I just can’t imagine you’ll be able to give this kid a target and expect him to deduce the best methods for hunting it down; he’s a killer, sure, and he can easily move through this maze, but what if I change it? He’ll have to memorize its layout all over again; he can’t improvise.”

“That’s really not my problem.”

Thanks for reading Michael Myers, a Halloween fanfiction Ch 4.

There’s still a long way to go, and I have a few more chapters written out. If anyone has any comments or suggestions, please let me know. Thanks again. Like, share, all that!

 

Michael Myers Ch 3

michael myers halloween

Thanks, everyone, for your continued support. I’ve been very busy working on a few different things including Michael Myers, a Halloween Fanfiction, so some quick updates, first:

war and glory lokians 3 by aaron dennis

war and glory lokians 3 by aaron dennis

For one, War and Glory, Lokians 3 has been proofed. I still need to clean up the formatting, but that won’t take more than about an hour’s time.

I want to release that particular, scifi book in September, which gives everyone plenty of time to become acquainted with the Lokians scifi series.

At this very moment, and for only a few more days, everyone can download my Lokians scifi series for free, that and a few other titles.

You can learn more about that here.

That’s basically it on the updates, to be honest–War and Glory is coming out on time, and I’ll release some excerpts here and there, but sometimes I get enough scifi and want to write some horror, which is why we’re back on track with Michael Myers, a Halloween Fanfiction.

Here’s chapter 3:

“This stringy brat,” the man with black hair asked.

“His name is Michael Myers,” Loomis said.

Michael was standing before two men in a bright room. There were blue mats all over the ground, and the walls were pristine white, except for a few blood splatters that had never been fully cleaned.

“He doesn’t look like much; beaten and bruised.”

“He fought through a dozen B’s and all for a cotton ball. He seems to like them,” Loomis replied.

“Does he understand what’s going on around him?”

“I think so, but being autistic, he must find it rather difficult to relate to normal people. What I do know is that it’s your job to make sure he understands how to fight.”

“I’m aware of my job here, Dr. Loomis,” Ushiro condescended.

“Just understand that I’ve picked Michael for Lieutenant Reichstag’s special team.”

“But he’s only six,” Ushiro sounded surprised.

“I don’t care how old he is. By the time you’re through with him, he’d better be ready for Reichstag. She’s been pressing Smith’s Grove pretty hard, and so far, we haven’t been able to give her more than three kids. If you can’t whip Michael into shape, I shudder to think at how the military will respond.”

“Whatever,” Ushiro sounded disinterested. “Myers,” he yelled. “When I call you, you look at me!”

“He won’t look you in the eye,” Loomis stated, dryly.

Ushiro shrugged. He nabbed Michael by the hair and bobbed his head up and down. “You do this when you understand. This means yes, and if you want to play with cotton balls, you’ll do everything I tell you. Understand?”

He let go the boy’s head, and he certainly nodded, but it was the mere act of bobbing his head up and down that Michael enjoyed. He just kept nodding, so Ushiro snickered.

“He’s all yours,” Loomis said and left.

“Alright, kid, stop bobbing your head and listen.” Ushiro then explained that he was the Sensei, and he taught little boys and girls how to fight. “You want this cotton puff?”

Michael reached for it, still nodding, but Ushiro hid it behind his back. “Stop nodding!” Michael did and looked up, but he was staring at Ushiro’s nose. “Close enough. Now, step your left foot out like this.”

He made an effort to teach the boy the basics of karate, but for the most part, everything was lost on Michael, so the Sensei manipulated the boy as he calmly talked him through the training. After an hour of suppressing his irritation, he handed Michael the cotton ball. The boy plunked down and rubbed it over his face. A minute later, Ushiro took it from him, and the boy attacked.

Laughing, Ushiro swept his feet out from under him, and he fell to the mats with a loud smack. He tried to wriggle up, but the man pinned him down with his foot.

“You want something bad enough, you have to fight for it. You understand?”

Amazingly, Michael nodded.

“That’s it. There’s hope for you after all,” Ushiro laughed.

They trained hour after hour for the whole day, and after Ushiro felt the boy was beginning to learn, he let him play with the cotton. Eventually, orderlies came in to sedate Michael and strapped him to a chair. They then wheeled him into the large room filled with rows of tables and chairs. Boys and girls ate their dinner before receiving more, mysterious inoculations.

Finally, Michael was taken back to the room with the cots where he fell asleep. There was something different about sleep that night. Michael saw a little girl. She was very small with long, dark hair. She smiled and played with him. He liked it when she rubbed his face with a little brush. When the man and the woman called out Laurie, she giggled and ran to them, dropping the toy brush on the ground. Michael reached for it, but then he found himself in blackness.

He felt the rough blanket over his body. He wasn’t with the girl anymore. He was with many, angry children. They constantly fought with one another, and he knew that if he fought back, there was a chance to play with cotton balls.

Not too far away, he saw a dim light bled through a crack by the bottom and top of the darkness, so he rolled out of bed and walked over to it. It was the light from the hallway bleeding through the door. He tried to open it to leave, but the handle didn’t turn. Long after, the lights came on making him shut his eyes for a second. The sound of feet drew his attention, and he stood up.

When the door opened, he saw the orderly that had broken his toy brush, and he started punching her in the legs. She took something from around her back and jammed it into his chest. Whatever it was sent such a seizure through his body that he fell back.

“You little pricks like the prod, don’t ya’?” she laughed.

He saw she was holding a long, black stick of some sort. “Get up. It’s time for breakfast.” She and two men, all wearing white, led the kids to the room where everyone ate. After they ate, they were given more shots. Michael always looked at the cotton when they swabbed his arm. He knew that if he fought hard enough, the ball was his, so he started throwing punches like Mr. Ushiro had shown him, but someone shocked him again.

It required some effort, but he managed back up to his feet. “That’s real good, Myers,” Ushiro said. Michael looked over. The man was wearing all white except he had a funny-looking, black belt over his clothes. He was standing with his arms hidden behind his back. “Are you ready for today’s lesson?”

Michael nodded for about two minutes while Ushiro gathered up two dozen kids and led them down the hall. Other men and women wearing white followed, and they made sure to prod the kids that stepped out of line. Then, they were herded into the room with blue mats. Ushiro set them up to stand in certain positions.

Some of the kids tried to wander off, but there were always people ready to shock them. During Ushiro’s lesson, he made the kids fight each other one at a time. Then, he made them fight two and three at a time. Every time Michael hurt one of the kids, he was allowed to play with a cotton ball for a few minutes. Then, Ushiro took it away, and Michael fought for it, but the Sensei was too strong, too quick.

After class, all the kids were led back to the eating room. Some of them, like Michael, had to be sedated, and after eating, they received more shots yet again. The boy always tried to get the cotton ball, but no one let him, and every time he tried, he was prodded, strapped to a chair, and sent to bed.

Sometimes, at night, in the dark, kids fought each other. When they came for Michael, he bit them, jammed his fingers into their eyes, choked, or beat them with his fists; Ushiro’s words never left him. Sometimes, at night, the people in white came into the room very quietly. Michael heard some of the kids scream and cry, but then the sounds grew muffled. One time, he felt someone grab him.

He had been seeing the little girl again, and he liked her very much, but someone had grabbed him and turned him onto his stomach. He felt a hand pin him down, and it was hard to breath with his face in the pillow. Whoever it was tore the clothes from his body and did something he didn’t understand. Like everything else, it didn’t hurt, but he didn’t like it. The following morning, the woman told him it happens to everyone, and she laughed while she helped him get dressed. Something about her laugh made him angry.

He looked right at her nose then her mouth. He hated that smug smile. He stomped her foot, and she reached behind her back to grab the prod, but he was expecting it; he wanted it. He hopped back, grabbed it with his left hand, like Ushiro showed him, and he grabbed her wrist with the other hand. He bit her and took the prod; as he began to hit her all over, she fell back, and the other kids swarmed her. They tore her to pieces before more men flooded the room.

There were loud bangs and pops. White smoke filled the room. The smoke made Michael choke and cry, and then someone pulled the prod from his hands. Suddenly, the lights went out.

Thanks for reading chapter 3 of Michael Myers, a Halloween Fanfiction. Like, share, blah, blah, blah.

Michael Myers Chapter 2

michael myers halloween

I’ve been a pretty big Halloween fan for a while, but apart from the original Halloween, I just haven’t really been impressed. I decided it’s time for me to write a Halloween fanfiction, and I’m just calling it: Michael Myers.

This horror is basically written from the point of view of Michael; he’s the protagonist, not the antagonist, and I promise you all, you’ve never seen Michael Myers like this.

Halloween is probably one of the best known horror flicks, and it’s certainly done very well, but I’m just not sure it’s aged well. Rob Zombie tried to retell the story, and don’t misunderstand, I love Rob Zombie, but I think this new version of Michael Myers is going to be better than Halloween.

Big words, I know, but here’s the second chapter of Michael Myers, a Halloween Fanfiction, by Aaron Dennis. That’s me…I’m Aaron Dennis….

No one had seen hide nor tail of Missy Myers or Tom Strode. When the police went by the house, the gruesome scene was evident; the six year old boy had killed his parents. At the police station, the Strodes were happy to take in their granddaughter, but no one wanted anything to do with little Michael Myers, who sat there, dangling his feet, wearing his bloody, green pyjamas, and holding a toy, makeup brush.

The psychiatrist on duty knew there was no home for the boy, no home except Smith’s Grove Sanitarium. By nightfall, an old man knelt down before the boy. Michael kept swinging his feet, staring at the motion.

“Hello,” the old man said. He had short, gray hair, and a soft tone. “I’m Doctor Loomis. Can you tell me your name?” Michael had no reaction. Loomis stood and whispered to another man for a moment. “Yes, Smith’s Grove will be the best place for a boy like this. Our methods yield results.” He then knelt down in front of the boy again. “They told me your name is Michael, Michael Myers. Come with me.”

Loomis stood and held out his hand. Again, Michael didn’t appear to comprehend the situation around him, so Loomis grabbed the boy’s empty hand, and he slid of the chair. Together, they walked down the tile floor, under fluorescent lights. Some of the officers gave the two scant looks, but they were all busy.

Outside the station, under an orange streetlamp, the two stood for a moment while a black car pulled around. It was drizzling, and Michael looked up to view the droplets of rain appear from within the cone of light. Then, he was gently pushed into the back seat of the car. Loomis slid in next to him. Michael began brushing his face with his sister’s toy.

“You like the way that feels,” Loomis stated. “It’s understandable. There are many boys and girls just like you. Tomorrow morning, after we get you all set up, you’ll get to meet them.”

The car drove out of the city, and down a dark road. There were no other cars, and thick oaks lined both sides of the street. It was a long ride, and Michael fell asleep in the car.

 

****

 

During the next, few months, Michael saw less and less of Doctor Loomis. He didn’t care one way or the other. The other boys and girls didn’t interest him, nor did they appear to have much of an interest in him. Some of them tried to touch him. One of them took the toy brush from his hands while he was sitting up in his cot.

Michael turned to face the boy; he was bigger than some of the others, and his face was cold and hard. Michael lunged out of his bed, bit the boy’s throat and rained down fists. They tumbled over, but Michael kept on slamming his hands down over the boy’s face. When the boy stopped moving, he retrieved his brush, sat back on his cot, and rocking his body back and forth, he traced circles over his face with the toy.

It wasn’t until the next morning that one of the women who came from time to time, one of the women who always brought Michael to another, strange man in a white coat, found the bigger boy dead on the tile floor. Since he was dead next to Michael, who was still covered in blood, the implications were obvious; she snatched the brush from his hand and broke it.

“If you can’t play nice, you can’t play at all,” she said and stood back with Missy Myers’s haughty derision, her smug smile of self satisfaction. Like a flash of lightning, Michael dove at her, but two men in white snatched the boy right out of the air. “Bad, little boys must be taught some manners.”

Michael jerked and pulled; he dragged his bare feet over the cold floor, but the men were relentless. They stuffed him in a chair with wheels, latched his hands to the arm rests, buckled his feet in place, and pulled something hard down over his face.

The chair’s squeaking sounded strange, but it was nice, peaceful; there was a certain rhythm to the sound. One turn and another began to disorient the boy, who saw very little through the slits in the plastic over his face. The way the overhead lights shone was pleasant, though. Then, everything came to a stop.

Something cold touched his arm. Something pointy went inside. His neck and shoulders seized for a moment. Finally, he felt very warm and comfortable.

 

****

 

“Michael, can you hear me?” It was Loomis’s voice. “They told me you became angry when the orderly broke your brush. I’m sorry she took your toy, but here at Smith’s Grove, we all have to get along, and if you can’t get along…you’ll have to learn to fight.”

The plastic was pulled from the boy’s face. He blinked a great deal at first; his vision was blurry, but everything was very bright. There were numerous boys and girls within Michael’s field of vision, but the only thing of interest was the feel of a cotton ball being rubbed over his cheek; Loomis was stimulating the boy.

He tried to reach for the cotton ball, but his hands and legs were still secured. Loomis pulled the cotton ball away and knelt down. He tilted Michael’s chin, but the boy made no eye contact.

“You can play with this cotton ball for a few minutes…if you can get to it.”

Loomis then walked beyond the other boys and girls. He stood by a darkened wall where there were no lights. Michael tried to climb from the chair.

“Hold on a sec’,” someone said.

The straps came undone, but before the boy had a chance to react, the lights overhead flashed like a strobe. The sight was stunning, but it quickly ended, however, the act animated the other boys and girls; they were all similarly clothed, as was Michael, in dark, green jumpsuits.

They all ran at him. They punched him, and grabbed him, and bit him. They held him down while the adults laughed and made strange comments. Some of them cheered names.

“C’mon, Michael,” Loomis yelled. “Come get the cotton ball!”

All the boy saw were ravenous glowers, contorted faces filled with wrath, but he wanted that ball of fluffy white. He thrashed, and he gnashed his teeth over someone’s hand. He threw one fist, and then another; he punched, and kicked, bit, and jammed his fingers into eyes. A bloodied mess, he grabbed a girl by her hair and slung her into another kid. He kicked one, and he stomped down over one more; all the while, he tried desperately to reach Doctor Loomis, who was then kneeling and holding out the cotton ball.

“You must win, Michael; you must beat them all, or you cannot play with this wonderful toy!”

Fists and feet struck the boy, but he felt no pain. Teeth crunched down over his shoulders, his fingers, but he didn’t care; he wanted that toy. Almost free from the angry masses, he ran while one boy held him by the collar, and one girl had her arms wrapped over his ankle, biting his leg. He pulled, and pulled, dragging himself to the cotton ball.

“That’s it, Michael, take it from me!”

He did, he got the white ball, and one of the kids tried to take it, but he smashed his fists over their head, fell onto the ground, and as the adults chuckled and rounded up the kids, he ran the ball over his face, but it got all wet, and cold, and red. In confusion, he looked at Loomis, who tried to establish eye contact.

“If you want that ball to stay white and soft, you’ll have to learn to fight better. Mister Ushiro can teach you how to do that, but you have to do everything he tells you, or you’ll never get another cotton ball….”

Thanks for reading chapter 2 of Michael Myers, a Halloween fanfiction by Aaron Dennis. Like, share, all that.