Thursday, August 22, 2013

Throwback Thursday - A Bewitching Hoax

Throwback Thursday is back!! Late, but nonetheless, it's here again. So, what does the Penguin have in store today?

Am I the only idiot that really believed this was a true story? I really hope not, hehe. But it was a huge phenomenon for a while, and I for one fell victim to the prey. In my humble opinion, it was a good story line, but the execution needed some love, hehe. Definitely a keeper.

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Tuesday's Terrors: Fractured, Episode 2

Welcome back, kids! Hope you're reading for a screaming good time, because guess what today is??

Yep! Another Tuesday's Terrors day! And today, we continue reading Fractured. The same warning applies this week as it did last week, but I'll post it here again just in case you missed it or forgot:

**WARNING: This story is intended for mature audiences, and may involve nightmare-inducing imagery, sexual innuendos, graphic violence, explicit language, implied sexual congress, incest, rape, and other adult content, so therefore proceed with caution as I will not be held liable for any thoughts, opinions, suicidal or homicidal tendencies, unclean or impure actions, thoughts, or intentions, nor any thoughts, actions, or intentions that may form, develop, or occur as a direct or indirect result of this story. If you're too young or feel your immortal soul is in peril by reading something graphic, horrifying, and obscene, please refrain from reading this story. This story and all subsequent stories are a work of fiction, names, characters, places, events, locales, etc used in this story and all subsequent stories are creations of the authors own demented mind and any resemblance to actual persons, places, things, or events, either living, deceased, real, or otherwise, is completely coincidental. In other words, don't sue me or send me hate mail or anything of a negative nature. You've been warned, if you take this literally, it's of your own accord. This and all stories written by Ashley Torbeck are copyright of Ashley Torbeck, and subject to copyright law in its fullest extent. 

And now...enjoy Episode 2 of Fractured in today's installment of Tuesday's Terrors!!


Episode 2

Locked up tight in the attic was the safest place in the house for Dahlia. It was her own little oasis against the onslaught of nightmares and terror brought down upon her by her uncle and step-aunt.

The only window in the room was sealed shut, and in the summer the heat poured in through that window, trapped with no ventilation, turning the attic into a sauna that would make the molten lava at the Earth’s core sweat. But in the winter, it was a blessing, pulling in heat from the sun to warm the frigid temperatures. She’d spread several old blankets out on the floor beneath the window, creating a soft, comfortable pallet. Using the dusty old sewing materials that Edna had long since abandoned, she’d sewn together several old, flat and shapeless pillows to make a couple of soft ones, which she added to her pallet below the window.

In one corner, several boxes were stacked in a square to balance a large rectangular mirror, creating a makeshift table for homework and crafting. In the center of the table sat a funky lamp circa 1975, with brightly colored baubles at the base and a round globe with countless chunks of reflective glass glued around the orb, letting light through sporadically. The disco ball lamp gave off a wild assortment of colors that reflected against the orb lampshade to give the room an ambiance that would make any stoner-hippie proud.

There were three chairs situated around the table, each padded with a hideous flower pattern in orange, red and brown, with a rounded back. She’d designated one for herself, while the other two she imagined were occupied by her mother and father. Every so often, as a young girl, she’d imagined she was having a tea party with friends. Of course, it was all make believe; Dahlia had never had a friend in her life.

After crying for several minutes, she crawled over to the pallet beneath the window and laid on her side, gazing out at the snow that started falling again. The late afternoon sky was a hazy blend of colors ranging from purple to orange. Dahlia imagined she was a snowflake, dancing on the air amidst the beautiful colors, free to just exist without the constant fear that was her life.

Lost in her fantasies, she didn’t hear her uncle and his wife prying open the door gently, forcing their way silently into the attic. When she heard the footstep on the floor, it was too late.

“Gotcha!” Dennis said triumphantly, snatching her arm and yanking her against him as she scrambled to get away.

She kicked and wriggled in his grasp, but it was like struggling against steel around her arms, cutting off the circulation. Dennis forced her down the hole in the floor and down the steps of the ladder to where Edna waited. Edna was no small woman, either-a southern woman from Mississippi who frequently participated in rodeos. She had twice the strength of Dahlia on a good day, and her struggles were useless against Edna’s grip, though it didn’t stop her from trying.

“Stupid little girl,” she snarled into Dahlia’s ear. “Who do you think you are?”

Edna’s twang was like razors in Dahlia’s ears. She knew what was coming, and she feared for her life.

Dennis locked the attic and climbed down to where Edna was holding a teary-eyed Dahlia, then turned to face her. his nose was bandaged and splattered with blobs of red, and a deep purple bruise was already forming in the inner corner of his eye. He was furious.

“So, you wanna play hide and seek, huh? Well, I got something to hide for you…”

Dahlia wondered how his wife could watch his brutal assault on her, then worship that man as if he could do no wrong. He started unbuckling his belt, and Dahlia’s silent tears turned into begging screams, pleading with him for mercy.

“Oh, what’s that? You’re sorry? Oh, I don’t believe that, do you Edna?”

Dennis looked at his wife, who brushed the hair back from Dahlia’s face gingerly, a maniacal smile on her face.

“No, I don’t think she’s sorry, Dennis. I think she’s a bad seed. She can’t be fixed. Best to just do away with her.”

Edna’s terrifying smile was inches from her face, and Dahlia thought for a moment she was going to be sick.

“Now, Edna, we can’t get rid of her. Too many questions.”

“We can just say she ran away. After all the Hell she’s put us through, nobody would doubt it.”

“That’s a chance we can’t take.”

Edna’s smile faltered for a second, just long enough for Dahlia to really see the hatred in her eyes and the rage at being denied the chance to squeeze the life out of her. Panic pumped through her body with every beat of her racing heart.

Dennis doubled the belt he’d pulled free from his pants, which were hanging loosely on his hips with no belt to secure them, and held the part that was folded over in his hand. Pulling his arm back as far as it would go, he swung wide and hard, slamming the metal buckle against Dahlia’s jaw with enough force to rip her from Edna’s grip. A bolt of pain erupted in her face as an audible crack resonated through her ears and neck. She fell sprawling to the floor as blood gushed into her mouth and out of her nose. Every part of her neck and face was on fire with pain, and this was only the first strike.

“Stupid little whore. How dare you break my nose?” Dennis screamed, whipping the belt buckle down on her again.

The second blow caught her in the back, the center pin of the buckle piercing her skin just to the left of her spine, and suddenly the pain in Dahlia’s face was a mosquito bite compared to the horrific agony surging through her back. She screamed in agony, through her broken jaw, which only hurt more with each movement and sound she made. Heavy sobs filled her eyes with tears as she tried to push her hands against the cold floor to raise herself up.

That only earned her a kick in her ribs from Edna.

“Don’t you fucking move!” she screamed as Dahlia curled around herself, holding her aching side.

Dennis unfastened his pants and let them drop to his ankles. Dahlia’s eyes grew wide, and she knew it was coming. The horrific nightmare she’d narrowly avoided earlier was going to be ten times worse after her little escape. Dennis dropped to his knees, and Dahlia tried to inch away, but Edna blocked her path, kneeling at her head.

“Now now, Dahlia,” she grinned. “You have to take your punishment. We have to try and get the bad seed out of you by planting a new, good seed inside you.”

Dahlia’s head was swimming in fear.

“One day, you’ll have a little tiny baby for me. And I’ll name her Danielle, and me and Dennis and Danielle will finally be the happy little family we were always meant to be.”

“You’re sick!” Dahlia screamed, her jaw protesting every syllable. “You’re both sick fucks, and I swear to Christ, I’m going to kill you! And I’m not having your fucking demon spawn of a child!”

Edna’s face turned dark, and without warning, she slammed her fist against Dahlia’s broken jaw, sending a shower of fresh blood and tears pouring out of her face. She couldn’t scream, she was nearly choking on the blood. Edna grabbed her arms and yanked them above her head, forcing Dahlia on her back, sending new waves of pain through her ribs and back.

Go to your happy place, Dahlia, she thought. Go to your happy place.

An hour later, Dahlia woke to find herself stripped naked and on her pallet in the attic. Her jaw and ribs were throbbing with pain, but she knew she needed to move. She was freezing cold, and laying under the window wasn’t helping.

When she stood, she was woozy, but at least she was able to stand. Her jaw, back, and side were in a great amount of pain, but the worst pain was in her lower abdomen and girly bits. It was as though she were on fire down there, and it hurt to breathe, let alone get up and walk around. Her thighs were bruised and she was bleeding a little, but nothing to cause any major concern.

She made her way to the boxes of old clothes and dug around until she found a shirt and pair of pants that would fit. Underwear was always out of the question, nobody kept old underwear, but at least she wouldn’t be naked and completely vulnerable.

Without making a sound, she slipped into the clothes. She noticed something glinting in the moonlight from the window a few boxes down in the corner. Making her way back to the corner, she saw it was an old rusted metal chest about three feet wide, five feet long, and three feet deep. The hinges and latch were metal, and a small portion of the hinge was still silver enough to reflect the light.

Moving other boxes around, she unburied the chest and made room for her to kneel in front of it, creating an almost fort of boxes surrounding her. Despite the near numbness in her fingers, she worked the latch until it popped open, and she lifted the lid. It whined in protest but opened on its hinges nonetheless.

Inside was a playground of medical equipment from circa 1966, from the Vietnam War. Dahlia recognized some of the now arcane tools that her great-grandfather, Peter, had shown her. Peter had been a doctor during the war, and remained a doctor for many years after. It was where he’d met her great-grandmother, Lucy, who’d been a nurse. They’d been stationed together and worked together for three years before deciding to marry, and Dahlia’s grandfather George had been born shortly after. Her grandfather George had also married a nurse, though he hadn’t joined the military, and they had Caroline and Dennis, twins; Dahlia’s mother and her uncle.

She hated the entire family on that side. All the men in her family were abusive and self-righteous bastards, taking everything they could from the women in their lives. Part of her despised the family heirlooms, and wanted to burn them. But instead, she ran her fingers over a row of empty syringes.

“Do it.”

Dahlia jumped and spun around as she stood, searching for the owner of the voice. There was no one around. She was completely alone.

Wiping the beads of sweat that instantly popped up as the adrenaline surged through her, she returned her gaze to the box of goodies. Beside the syringes was what she remembered Grampa Peter describe as a bone saw.

“Take it. Pick it up.”

Dahlia froze, her fingers barely touching the handle to the deadly weapon. The elusive voice was back, and she instantly recognized it. Her heart froze over as she realized the voice was her own.

Pretty awesome, right? Make sure you tune in next Tuesday for Episode 3 of Fractured  in Tuesday's Terrors!

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Throwback Thursday

What? Another themed day, Ashley? Yep. Trying to get in the habit of blogging daily and keeping you awesome peeps entertained, and themes are my way of making it happen! Not sure how long these will last, because I have serious ADD, but we'll give it a go!!

For today's Throwback Thursday, I have for you....

Tales from the Crypt

(This is a longer, special edition style of opening for the show, thus the "Kill Intro" on the screen, but I think it's better than the rest!)

Okay, am I the only one who nearly pissed their pants as soon as the theme music came on?? Seriously, I can remember hearing the music and without looking at the TV, running like I was being chased by a fire breathing dragon wielding a chainsaw made of Freddy Kruger's gloves and diving onto the couch before burying my head under a blanket or pillow. Seriously scary stuff to a child, I tell you what...

Man, I used to love watching Tales from the Crypt. The ones with the dummy? Yeah, they got me. What's your #ThrowbackThursday? 

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Tuesday's Terrors Day 1: Fractured

Omigosh, I've been so busy lately, I haven't had a meaningful or interesting post in days! I'm so sorry!!

So in light of my negligence, I'd like to tell you a story. Not just any story, though. A story that will be told through the newly developed (as in like, five minutes ago) Tuesday's Terrors!! (Don't like the name, suggest a new one in the comments, I'm working on no sleep here! :P ) So without further ado, I bring to you Tuesday's Terrors Installment #1 of Fractured.

**WARNING: This story is intended for mature audiences, and may involve nightmare-inducing imagery, sexual innuendos, graphic violence, explicit language, implied sexual congress, incest, rape, and other adult content, so therefore proceed with caution as I will not be held liable for any thoughts, opinions, suicidal or homicidal tendencies, unclean or impure actions, thoughts, or intentions, nor any thoughts, actions, or intentions that may form, develop, or occur as a direct or indirect result of this story. If you're too young or feel your immortal soul is in peril by reading something graphic, horrifying, and obscene, please refrain from reading this story. This story and all subsequent stories are a work of fiction, names, characters, places, events, locales, etc used in this story and all subsequent stories are creations of the authors own demented mind and any resemblance to actual persons, places, things, or events, either living, deceased, real, or otherwise, is completely coincidental. In other words, don't sue me or send me hate mail or anything of a negative nature. You've been warned, if you take this literally, it's of your own accord. This and all stories written by Ashley Torbeck are copyright of Ashley Torbeck, and subject to copyright law in its fullest extent. 


Forget that "Once upon a time" bullshit. This didn't happen in a land or a galaxy far far away, nor is it a sweet lullaby to serenade your children to sleep. This is no fairytale; this is what Hell feels like.

The cold wooden slats chilled Dahlia's legs and ass as she sat on the front porch swing. That winter had been the coldest the sleepy little town of Sinndale had seen in decades, and while that's saying something for any New England town, it's quite the accomplishment for Maine. 

Dahlia's bare feet barely brushed the ice cold concrete of the front porch as she swung softly to and fro. Her legs, covered only by tattered and thin blue jeans with holes in the knees, were numb from the cold. She hugged her bare arms to her chest, rubbing them frequently to stimulate circulation in hopes to ward off frostbite. The green t-shirt was cut in a low v, plunging between her meager breasts, and hung loosely around her thin and malnourished body. 

The swing creaked softly with each pass, moaning in protest with age, rust, and decay. The wood was splintered in places, making it a dangerous enemy if one wasn't careful. Snow was piled in little drifts along the slats of wood to Dahlia's left as she huddled on the right side of the swing, careful to avoid the worst of the splintery patches. She had enough bruises and gashes scattered across her tiny body-she didn’t need any more wounds to explain.

Her long dark hair fell in waves down her back, whipping about her face in the frigid wind. Her normally porcelain skin was bright red and, in some places, a hint of blue, though a lot of the fresher bruises could be blamed for some of that. Her swollen lips were a bright red, and normally looked pinched, giving her a narrow mouth with thicker lips that would have looked ridiculous on most other people. Bright green eyes-almost an unnatural shade-stood out against her pale skin and dark hair, but the light was dim behind that stare. On a good day, at her plumpest, she weighed in at an unhealthy 102 pounds, though most days she was lucky to break 100, which at 5’6” was a dangerous weight.

Not that she could have helped it if she’d wanted to; Dennis and Edna-her uncle and his Stepford-esque wife-kept a close eye on Dahlia’s rations. In fact, they kept a close watch on everything she did, homeschooling her for the last seven years for fear of her getting corrupted by the dregs of society in a public school. She was certain her uncle and step-aunt wouldn’t have sprung for private school even if they’d had the financial ability for such lavish things. It was no secret that Dahlia was the unwanted niece in a family of self-indulgence. After all, nobody wanted a mutant bi-racial halfbreed anyway.

Caroline, Dahlia’s mother, had married outside her social stature to her father, a common immigrant from Greece. Of course, when she was born, Dahlia had the beautiful skin color of her father, but within a week had gone pale as the winter snow she was sitting among at that moment. A pigment anomaly, the doctors had called it, giving no hope of the restoration of the coveted skin color her father had initially bestowed upon her. It was fortunate that Dahlia had inherited the vast majority of her looks from her mother. It made no difference to Dahlia or Caroline or even her immigrant husband what Dahlia looked like, but to everyone else, it was a horror that a child would be so cursed with such pale skin that it was surely a sign that she was an abomination.

When Dahlia’s parents were killed in a tragic boating accident when she was ten, Dennis and Edna had taken her in, at the request of Caroline, despite Edna’s extreme protests. 

It wasn’t long before the beatings began. Dahlia broke a dish, and ended up in the emergency room after Edna broke her arm slamming her into a glass table. It took twelve stitches to close the gashes from the glass that had embedded in her skin. When Dennis received the bill from the hospital, he hit the roof and grounded her, cutting off her meals for two days while locked in the stuffy attic with no ventilation in July. She’d nearly died of dehydration. 

Things got worse after that. Now at seventeen, there wasn’t an inch of her body that hadn’t been bruised, mutilated, or violated in a perverse punishment, mostly involving Edna’s inability to bear children. Her jealousy of Dahlia’s young and fertile body enraged her, and the horrors Dahlia had endured robbed her of her innocence and her childhood.

The screen door creaked, and Dahlia froze in mid-swing her bare feet gripping the concrete porch and her eyes widening to the size of watermelons.

“Dahlia!” Dennis shouted. “Dahlia, where the hell are you hiding, girl? I’m gonna skin you alive if you don’t get in here right now!”

His words slurred so badly Dahlia could hardly made out the words. She only knew that if he was drunk and yelling for her, she was going to hate it. 

The screen door popped open, the springs screaming in protest against the force. Out stepped Uncle Dennis. All 6’1” of him, dressed in gray slacks and a button-down white shirt with a gray and white pinstriped tie hanging loose from his neck, stepped out onto the porch. His black dress shoes were a stark contrast against the snow-covered porch, which hid the dull gray of the concrete. His bloodshot eyes roamed for several seconds before landing on the frail girl on the swing. His lustful eyes looked her over as he took another swig of the vodka bottle dangling in his hand.

“Come here, girl. You’ve got chores to tend to,” he said, his slurred speech grating on Dahlia’s ears as he stumbled toward her. 

Cowering away from his advances, she tried to make herself as small and as invisible as possible.

Go to your happy place, Dahlia, she told herself. Just go-he can’t hurt you there.

She knew what was coming, and instinct took over without warning. As his clumsy hand gripped her bare arm, she swung hard with her right hand balled into a fist, and landed a solid punch to his nose, which erupted in blood on contact. He stumbled back, releasing her arm and gripping his bloody face, and she leaped to her feet, which were unfortunately frozen and numb, which sent her tumbling to the concrete. 

Landing on her hands and knees agonizingly, she crawled to the door and threw it open again. she pulled her upper body through the opening to the house, but didn’t calculate the screen door’s return path. With a thud, the cold metal bounced against her spine, sending a shriek echoing through the house. 

“You little bitch! I’ll fucking kill you!” Dennis screamed, still staggering about the porch, blinded by the blood still spurting out of his severely damaged nose.

Grateful that he still couldn’t find or catch her, despite the scream, she reached back, threw the door open again, and dragged her aching body inside. Moving as quickly as possible, she reached the stairs and crawled up, ignoring the agony on her back. She’d long since learned to ignore pain. 

At the top of the stairs, she heard the door slam open again, and heavy footsteps thudded on the faux hardwood floor. Panic enveloped Dahlia, and she tried again to stand, finding she still had no feeling in either foot. She continued crawling while the stomping footsteps grew closer, headed up the stairs. 

Finally reaching the end of the hallway, she hazarded a glance over her shoulder. Another round of fear gripped her when she saw the massive body reach the landing to the second floor and turn to face her. Blood dripped down his face to the floor, staining the fake wood. His eyes no longer held lust-that was replaced by rage and a hatred that Dahlia couldn’t understand.

Pulling herself to her feet using the rail as a crutch, she finally stood and reached up to release the hatch for the attic, dropping down a ladder. Dennis stalked closer, taking his time, toying with her as she scrambled trying to climb the ladder. It was slow going, though, and she was barely three feet up when he reached her, grabbing hold of her ankle and yanking. 

She gripped the ladder with both hands, holding on with all her strength, but he was strong. She slid down two rungs on the ladder, and her left hand slipped, catching on the uneven metal attachment on the ladder. Blood sprouted from her freshly sliced hand, but she didn’t even feel the pain. Her fear masked any other emotions or sensations.

He gripped both ankles tightly, holding her in place. One hand drifted north, exploring the back of her thigh, with a sadistic grin. She wiggled, nearly freeing her ankles from his death grip, only to have him grab hold of each ankle separately again, freeing her from another life-ruining moment by a sick and pitiful excuse for a man, let alone an uncle.

“You’re gonna wish you’d died with your grease ball dad, you worthless little-“

“Shut UP!” Dahlia screamed over her shoulder, cutting off his rant. “You fucking disgust me, and I wish it’d been you who died!”

She kicked as hard as she could, loosening Dennis’ grip on her ankle, and with another kick backward, she landed her heel in his chest, sending him staggering backward several steps as he lost his grip on her other leg. The feeling was returning to her feet, and she climbed the rest of the way up the ladder in agony, the pins and needles feeling washing over her feet and legs with ever movement. At the top, she yanked the ladder up and barricaded the door before her uncle could recover his footing. 

“You stupid half-breed! You’re gonna pay for that little stunt. Oh, just wait till your Aunt Edna gets home-“

“She’s not my fucking aunt!”

Dahlia’s scream echoed as she curled up into a ball and cried. Dennis didn’t try to come up after her, much to her surprise and delight, but she knew it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. She’d be lucky to survive the night.

(c) Ashley Torbeck 2013

Yeah, I know. It's a long, kinda slow start. But don't you wanna know what happens next? Tune in next week for the next installment of Tuesday's Terrors to get your frightening fix! (Okay, so I'm seriously running on barely any sleep, don't fault me for my horrible jokes and alliteration!) 

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Author Interview - Blake Johnson

Hey gang! Another spectacular interview coming your way!!

The Penguin chased down the accomplished 19-year-old author Blake Johnson-author of Memoir of Earth-for an interview. Let's get to know this young author and find out what makes him tick!!

First, allow me to introduce you to his book, Memoir of Earth!


Everyone wants super powers, right? But what if they hinged on your emotions? What if simply feeling angry or sad could cause destruction beyond any man made weapon? What if feelings of compassion and justice had the capacity to heal a multitude of wounds? Depressed, sixteen year old John Stryker walks this line every day, either heralding peace or destruction wherever he goes. His curse of depression is instantly made a weapon. Two sides awaken in him, both light and dark. As both vie for control, John is forced to face the darkness within him and to examine his true character, up close and personal. After becoming the subject of a bet made by two god-like figures named the Watcher and the Keeper, John is given this immense power. The question is what will he do with it? If his power consumes him or he turns his back on mankind, then the Watcher is given clearance to destroy the world. If he becomes a selfless hero, then the twisted entity would be bound in the dimension called the Inferno, a place of torment and suffering. John, not knowing that his every decision could result in the destruction of mankind, searches for the purpose in all of the madness around him, hoping to find what he was destined to do with these new found abilities. After bearing witness to the brutal and sadistic nature of the world, John ponders the question that will alter the fate of all living things; is the world worth saving? DISCLAIMER: Memoir of Earth depicts some situations containing intense violence. This book is not recommended for readers under the age of 16.

Pretty awesome, right? Okay, on to the next part that I know y'all have been craving...


DSP: For starters, tell us a bit about you, we like to get to know our authors as a person!

Blake: I’m a nineteen year old guy who enjoys jamming on the guitar and playing video games. I see myself as somewhat of a geek. Superheroes have always been a huge inspiration to me as a writer and a person. I’ve always loved black, although it’s the absence of color. And I love tacos. Tacos are good.

DSP: Nice to meet you! So tell us, where did you find the inspiration for your most recent book?

Blake: I had had this particular tale in my head for quite some time before I actually sat down to write it. What actually caused me to take the plunge into penning this novel was hearing a friend of mine tell me about his own book he was writing. Seeing how passionate he was about the story he crafted inspired me to tell my own story. There was a certain joy he had about him when he talked about his characters. It was at that moment that I knew I wanted to breathe life into characters of my own.

DSP: So, do you have any kind of ritual for writing? Such as, you have to write with music on, or you can only write when you’re completely alone, etc

Blake: I have a few, but one in particular stands out. For each novel I write I listen to particular band that I feel captures the essence of the story. For Memoir of Earth that band was Coheed and Cambria. Listening to them help inspire my writing so much that I even included them in the dedication.

DSP: Who is your favorite character in your book, and why? How about the character you had the most trouble with

Blake: The main character, John Stryker is definitely my favorite. I feel as though he is a very real, relatable character, especially to those who struggle with depression. He makes mistakes, does things that he later regrets, but he still presses on. The character I had the most trouble with was Isabel Faintheart. She is a multidimensional but I couldn’t delve too deep into her psyche for fear of taking the focus off of John.

DSP: Now, when you sit down to write a book, a paragraph, or whatever you‘re working on at the moment, do you just sit down in front of the computer, or do you need an outline of some sort? Is there any other prep you need in order to organize your thoughts either before you write or in the process of writing?

Blake: Normally, I have my thoughts pretty well organized in my head when I sit down to write. As the saying goes, “The stories write themselves.”

DSP: Do you foresee any more books to continue this story? If so, do you think we can get a taste of what’s to come?

Blake: Definitely. I am currently working on a different novel apart from this series, but once that is done I will begin writing The Pillars of the Universe-Book 2. The story will explore just how far John is willing to go to save the people he cares about.

DSP: Other than this most recent story, do you have any ideas for different books that might be published in the future? Care to give us a teaser?

Blake: I have quite a few ideas. Currently, I am working on a standalone novel that is dedicated to my late Grandmother who passed away from cancer. The main theme of the novel is sacrifice and selflessness. Her whole life she gave to others freely. I hope I can honor her memory through this upcoming piece.

DSP: Do you have any aspirations to be similar or comparable to another author? Why?

Blake: I have always looked up to Stephen King seeing as we’re both from Maine. His words have been very encouraging to me, most notably his introductory essay On Being Nineteen (And a Few Other Things) which was included in the re-released edition of his novel The Gunslinger. I felt as though he understood where I was coming from as a young writer.

DSP: What has been the biggest high since becoming a published author?

Blake: Holding the finished product in my hands. It’s an amazing thing to see all of the hard work that goes into writing become tangible.

DSP: Have you named the computer you use for writing?

Blake: I haven’t but I may just do that now that you mentioned it.

DSP: What is your greatest fear about being an author?

Blake: That my story will not have any impact on others whatsoever. One of the reasons I write is to hopefully inspire and help others. It would be heart-wrenching not to accomplish that end in some way, shape or form.

DSP: Which of the characters in your book do you feel is the most like yourself, and in what way?

Blake: John Stryker. We are both striving to learn the meaning of our existence.

DSP: From the first word to the moment it became available for purchase, how long did it take you to write and publish this most recent novel?

Blake: About two years. There were times I felt it would never be completed. Perseverance pays off!

And now, for something completely different…some slightly off-the-wall and possibly irrelevant questions so we can see a different side of Blake!

DSP: Are you planning to bring sexy back?
Blake: That’s above my payroll…

DSP: If you could be any cartoon character for 24 hours, who would you pick and why?
Blake: Bugs Bunny! Nothing seems to bring that rabbit down!

DSP: How many ridges are there around a quarter?
Blake: OVER 9000!

DSP: Do you believe in fate or destiny?
Blake: Destiny. Fate denotes we are trapped, helpless to change the course of our lives. In my opinion, destiny is something we can forge.

DSP: How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
Blake: About four cords on a good day.

DSP: What are your thoughts on string?
Blake: That all depends on the kind of string. Silly string? Amazing. The String Theory? Too complex for my taste. Yarn? I’m neutral about it. Unless you’re spinning a darn good one.

DSP: Would the 8-year-old version of yourself kick your ass or praise you for what you’ve done with your life?
Blake: I think he would be surprised. I don’t think the 8-year old Blake ever thought he would get into writing.

DSP: What is the last song you listened to?
Blake: Feathers by Coheed and Cambria

DSP: Do you have any talents you haven’t shared with us?
Blake: I can juggle. My father used to be a professional magician so I picked up a few tricks of the trade. When I was younger he would even let my sister and me perform in his shows!

DSP: Imagine you’re the sole survivor of a plane crash at sea, and you awake stranded on a deserted and uncharted island in the Bermuda Triangle. Nobody knows you’re there, and you have nothing but the clothes on your back. You’re all alone, and there’s terrifying sounds coming from deep within the jungle. Late that night as you’re starving, a large suitcase washes up on the shore. You open it up. What’s in the suitcase?
Blake: A mysterious remote with a single button. I don’t know what it does or if it will even help me escape. The consequences could be dire if I dare to press it, but then again it could be harmless. There’s only one way to find out…

Ooh, now I want one of those remote controls...hehe. Fantastic interview, and this guy sounds pretty awesome. Let's find out how we can keep up with him!!


Nineteen year old Blake Johnson is a young, up and coming, author from Veazie, Maine. At the age of six he made an appearance on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno during the segment 'Kid Magicians.' When he turned ten, he embarked on a journey overseas to Russia on missions trip. These are but two of the experiences Blake has used to help fuel his writing. At an early age, Blake's passion for storytelling mixed with his odd experiences has spurred him to write a multitude of tales ranging from comical to downright scary.

Well, personally, I think this book is gonna rock, and to have accomplished such a feat at so young an age, this author is one who with a bright future ahead of him. 

Many thanks to Blake for giving us the chance to get to know him, and we wish you all the best! Feel free to stop by and update us down the road and update us on all the great things that are sure to come. :)

Monday, August 5, 2013

Win a Kindle Fire**

Sounds too good to be true right? Nope. Legit giveaway this summer! Learn more below in a post created by the hosts, I Am A Reader, Not A Writer. (Although we are both...but sh! Don't tell anyone!!)

Kindle Summer


Bloggers & Authors have joined together and each chipped in a little money towards a Kindle Fire HD 7".

Kindle Fire HD 7" Giveaway

The winner will have the option of receiving a 7" Kindle Fire HD (US Only)

Or $199 Gift Card (International)

Or $199 in Paypal Cash (International)

Sponsoring Bloggers & Authors

  1. I Am A Reader, Not A Writer

  2. Feed Your Reader

  3. New Adult Addiction

  4. Jessabella Reads

  5. The (Mis)Adventures of a Twenty-Somthing Year Old Girl

  6. Books Unhinged by StacyHgg

  7. S.A. Larsen - Writer's Ally

  8. Author Inger Iverson

  9. The Geeky Gamers

  10. annakyss

  11. Everyday Word Magic

  12. Candance's Book Blog

  13. Page Flipperz

  14. SMI Book Club

  15. Laurie Here

  16. Feed Your Fiction Addiction

  17. Phantasmic Reads

  18. The Book Bellas

  19. Please Don't Remove MarGreat's Glasses

  20. Author Jennifer Laurens

  21. J.C. Valentine

  22. Holly Hood

  23. Young Adult Novel Reader

  24. Author Heather Bixler

  25. Literary Meanderings

  26. Suspense Author Kim Cresswell

  27. Mother Daughter & Son Book Review

  28. Meredith's Musings

  29. Auggie Talk

  30. Author Camelia Miron Skiba

  31. Author Lena Sledge

  32. LoriTheAuthor

  33. Author Dianne Venetta

  34. Curling Up with A Good Book

  35. MyLadyWeb

  36. Fae Books

  37. Bea's Book Nook

  38. Girls with Books

  39. Ketch's Book Nook

  40. Turning Pages

  41. Bookhounds

  42. Karey White

  43. My Devotional Thoughts

  44. Author Talia Jager

  45. Author Helen Smith

  46. Sher A Hart: Written Art

  47. Author MK McClintock

  48. Word to Dreams

  49. Buku-Buku Didi

  50. Tasty Book Tours

  51. Readerlicious

  52. Romance Bookworm's Reviews

  53. Giveaway Details

    1 winner will receive their choice of a Kindle Fire 7" HD (US Only), $199 Amazon Gift Card or $199 in Paypal Cash (International).

    There is a second separate giveaway for bloggers who post this giveaway on their blog.  See details in the rafflecopter on how to enter to win the 2nd Kindle Fire.

    Sponsor a future Kindle Fire Giveaway by signing up HERE.

    Ends 8/15/13

    Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Gift Code or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader, Not A Writer and sponsored by the participating authors & bloggers. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.

    a Rafflecopter giveaway

    **Subject to giveaway rules, regulations, terms, and/or conditions. Giveaway is hosted by and was developed by, and neither Ashley nor the Drunken Penguin had a hand in creating or regulating the giveaway-we just support and promote!!

    Friday, August 2, 2013

    Cover Reveal - Vampiric Sex

    Today is an exciting day!! We're taking part in the awesome cover reveal for author and dear friend of mine, Sarah Fae Graham. This is her first series, entitled The Soldier's Wife, and the first installment in the series, Vampiric Sex, is the subject of the big reveal. It's a pretty awesome one, too, if I may say so. Oh, and I should mention, I've read it, and it's steamy for sure!

    Here's a bit about the book!


    Recommended age 18+, adults only.

    This series contains scenes of a very sexual and adult nature, including some bondage, slave and master role play, the use of adult toys and a number of orifices. If you are faint hearted, I might advise you to avoid this series. On the other hand, if you love kinky sex in a monogamous relationship, all bundled up with some awesome vampire fangs and a fetish for all things vampiric, then this series could be for you.

    Vampiric Sex (The Soldier's Wife #1) by Sarah Fae Graham

    Expected Release: Second half of 2013

    Publisher: Self Published

    Cover Design: Sarah Fae Graham

    Tour Coordinator: Sarah Fae Graham - Fae Books Tours

    Vampiric Sex is episode (book) number one in The Soldier's Wife series by Sarah Fae Graham. This series of shorts falls under the Erotica genre and is advised for adults only. 
    Sonja and David are a young, married, human couple with a vampire fetish. David is a Soldier in the Army and works hard. Sonja is a housewife. The couple enjoy living an alternative lifestyle and often refer to their style as Gothic. They share a love of all things vampiric and of course, kinky sex. 
    Follow the couple throughout the episodes to see what goes on in their lives. There may be an unexpected twist approaching, unbeknownst to them. 
    In this episode, the Soldier's Wife, Sonja is punished for doing something without her husband's permission. The thing is, she loves how he chooses to punish her.

    Sounds kinky right? You have no idea... ;)

    So, without further ado, I bring to you....

    Pretty badass, right? Yeah, I thought so too.  So how about meeting this author? Here's a bit about Sarah!!

    Sarah Fae is 24 years old and lives with her husband, two dogs, and three cats in an Army Garrison in North Yorkshire, England, UK.

    She spends the majority of her time working under her alias of Fae Books to help promote other writers, authors, bloggers and anyone else in the bookish world who approaches Fae Books for some help.

    She writes mainly in the erotica genre and Vampiric Sex is her debut short story. Her writing does tend to come fourth place in her life as she puts helping others in the book world before her own writing.

    She considers herself a complete geek, loves reading, writing, reprogramming and flashing phones & tablets, reading magazines like Fortean Times and occasionally chat magazines when she needs a little bit of time to switch off her concentration.

    She relaxes by reading most of the time, she also likes to meditate and enjoys lying back with a fan on the go, imagining she's in a beautiful house in a rain forest surrounded by waterfalls and fabulous scenery.

    Her dream in life is, to first of all, remember to put the lottery on, then once she wins, she wants to buy a detached house in the countryside with her husband so she can have complete peace from the world with space for her dogs and cats to play outdoors.

    Sarah Fae suffers with ten illnesses/disabilities which do prevent her from having much of a "normal" life, so she loses herself in Fae Books and reading as her way of coping.

    You can read a full About Me on her website here:

    As someone who is not only a friend and fan, but someone who read the story and highly praises it, I recommend that if you enjoy a steamy, kinky, really fun ride of a story, get this bad boy as soon as becomes available. You can watch for more details on Sarah's website, and I'll be updating them here too!

    Sarah, we wish you nothing but the best of luck and hope you'll come visit us with lots more good news very soon!!