My Contribution To Horror Fiction: HOLY ROLLERS!

[dmihatmttl]

I hope this is cool . . . just thought I would mention this to my fellow board-members, though you folks might be interested . . . .

I have a book of my own available right now from Lone Wolf Publications. It's an audiobook called HOLY ROLLERS. 'ROLLERS is not just any old audiobook, though, it's a "movie for your ears" featuring the story read by me and featuring sound-effects and original music composed and mixed by yours truly.

HOLY ROLLERS asks the question "What if? . . . "What if, one day, those pesky door-to-door evangelists types came to visit you? What if they refused to leave? Worse yet . . . what if they had guns, and knives? And what if they weren't everything they claimed to be?"


Sorry for the shameless self-promotion, but this area of the board looked kinda dead. I hope it's cool. I think you guys would really dig HOLY ROLLERS . . . .

Check it out, if you would be so kind.


'ROLLERS is available for purchase here:


http://store.yahoo.com/shocklines/holrolbyjnew.html


Or directly from the publisher here:


http://www.dm.net/~bahwolf/lwp/lwa-newman.htm




If the board moderator says it's okay, I'd be willing to post a short snippet of the novella. Just to give potential readers a "taste" of what you might be buying . . . if nothing else, it'll liven up this area of the board a bit.

I hope. :)



That's all from me for now. Thanks so much for listening, and taking the time to listen to my little pitch, everyone . . . .



Rock on,





James N.

[JohnShaft]

Originally posted by dmihatmttl@Mar 25 2003, 11:45 PM
I hope this is cool . . . just thought I would mention this to my fellow board-members, though you folks might be interested . . . .

HOLY ROLLERS asks the question "What if? . . . "What if, one day, those pesky door-to-door evangelists types came to visit you? What if they refused to leave? Worse yet . . . what if they had guns, and knives?

Totally cool by us James, no worries.

You wrote the story, music, read it, and did the sound effects. You sound like a man of many, many talents.
I really admire anyone that has the dedication it takes to write a novel, let alone get it published.

Great subject matter too. I've always found something really sinister about door to door peddlers selling religion like double glazing. But then I guess I've always had a (healthy) suspicion of religion (and the religious) per se.

And please, by all means, post a snippet of your story. I'd be very interested in a taste myself. :D
http://www.horrorexpress.com/images/holyrollerscover.jpg

[dmihatmttl]

Heeheehee . . . I know whatcha mean. I think you'd really dig HOLY ROLLERS, then . . . .

Here's the promised excerpt, just something to whet your appetite. Hope if you like it you'll think about picking up a copy of the audiobook! ;)

Thanks again, so much, for your interest! And for letting me do this . . . .



.......


"So," Blondie spoke again. The tone of his voice suggested he had grown impatient, although neither of the holy rollers let up their perfect smiles for a second. "Do you think we might come inside for a moment, Mr. Morris, and share God's wonderful Word with you?"

Harelip blinked at me, a dreamy look in his big blue eyes.

I sighed again.

"I don't think so, fellas," I said at last, already stepping back and preparing to close the door. "I don't mean to be rude, and I appreciate your concern for my spiritual well-being…I really do…but once again, I'm just not interes --"

And that was when Blondie pulled the gun from inside his jacket. A Walther PPK semi-automatic, fitted conveniently with one of those screw-on silencers.

He pointed it, at me.

I froze. Mary gasped behind me, her nails digging into my arm more painfully than ever. But I barely even noticed.

I couldn't speak, couldn't move. Hell, I don't think I even breathed for those first few seconds after the gun came out.

The weapon loomed larger than life, looking more like a damn cannon than a simple hand-held firearm right there in front of my face. It glistened almost prettily in the morning sunlight that had already seized the day.

He cocked the hammer then and said softly but firmly, "Perhaps I should rephrase the question, Mr. Morris. You will invite my brother and I inside…and you will listen as we share the Word of God with you."

Harelip said, "Oh, we know you'll love the things we have to tell you."

After standing there dumbfounded for what seemed like forever, I finally found my voice. It was weak, choked with obvious fear.

"What the hell kinda religion is this, anyway?" I asked.

"Praise God, Brother," said Blondie, and Harelip replied, "Pwaise God."

And then the butt of the gun came up. Hard, across my left temple.

Instantly I saw only black.


***


"Ohhhhh, shiiiit," I moaned, my voice slurred. My head pounded like I'd just gone twelve rounds with a Mack truck, and for those first couple of minutes everything was blurry. It was like looking at the world through prescription glasses made for someone else, glasses too weak or strong for myself.

Spots danced before my eyes, multi-colored fireflies flitting about as if trying their damnedest to get on my nerves.

I moaned, went to rub reflexively at my temples…but realized I couldn't.

I gasped, made a startled little "Wha-hugh!" sound as if I'd suddenly been kicked in the gut.

My hands were bound together, tight, to the back of the chair in which I sat. The ropes scratched at the flesh of my wrists -- chafing me there, irritating me.

I heard music coming from somewhere-shrill and off-key. Gospel music. But where the hell was it coming from? I knew it was in the same room with me, but at the same time it sounded a million miles away.

It all seemed so surreal. In fact, the closest I'd ever come to feeling this way -- this out of touch with reality -- was once when I was back in college, after I'd foolishly mixed Quaaludes with vodka just to impress my friends.

I didn't like it then…and I sure as hell didn't like it now.









C. 2002 James Newman