Archive for the Flash Fiction Category

Armand’s 2013 Year In Review Part 1

Posted in anthology, Armand Rosamilia, authors, contemporary fiction, Creeping Death, dying days, fiction, flagler beach, Flash Fiction, florida, For The Night Is Dark, Golden Lion Cafe, Hazardous Press, Heavy Metal, horror, Kokomo's Cafe, Miami Spy Games, movies, novella, personal, short story, spy, tim baker, writing, zombie on December 16, 2013 by Armand Rosamilia

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I had a killer 2013… there is no doubt about it. And not only in my writing and publishing career, but in my personal life. I started dating a wonderful Special Gal in December of 2012 and we’re still going strong, I began spending more and more time in Jacksonville and really growing to love it, I got a radio gig on an actual radio station with fellow author and great friend Tim Baker, and even starred in a music video. OK, I just stood there with sunglasses on looking all menacing and sexy, but I was the real star, and not The Cherry Drops.

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What’s really left for me, with my bucket list of things to do before I die? Maybe act in a movie… but I’ll save that one for 2014 so I have something to look forward to. 

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Truth be told, 2013 started out very slow release-wise. I wrote three novellas for a Hollywood company that still have not seen the light of day, although the pay was nothing to laugh at, and was riding the wave for sales of Miami Spy Games: Russian Zombie Gun. Unfortunately, it meant no new releases for me until February, and even then it was a flash fiction piece in the Fifty Shades of Decay zombie anthology from Angelic Knight Press. 

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Over a month later, at the end of March, I had another story published in an anthology, this time in For The Night Is Dark by Crystal Lake Publishing. A couple of days later I had my first official release of 2013, but it was a non-fiction one with Metal Queens: Models 2

MQM2 Cover1

April was a lot of writing for me. Even though I didn’t have many things out at this point, I’d been writing, editing and getting my work beta read like mad. I’d been pounding away at a huge project, one that was totally different for me: a contemporary fiction series that would eventually encompass 70 short stories in 7 print releases and over 40 eBook releases: Flagler Beach Fiction Series

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The first of this series was released on May 15th, Kokomo’s Cafe Part 1. Part 2 was released a week later. Then Part 3 came out at the end of the month, one new two-story part each week. June saw Part 4 and Part 5 as well as the print version of Kokomo’s Cafe and all five parts in one eBook, Kokomo’s Cafe Complete

Dying Days 3 Cover

In the meantime, at the end of May, I finally released Dying Days 3. It had a few twists and turns longtime fans weren’t expecting. In June I released Creeping Death, a collection of my short stories released by Hazardous Press. 

Creeping Death Cover

The last weekend in June saw the beginning of the second part of the Flagler Beach Fiction Series when Golden Lion Cafe Part 1 was released. Part 2 was released the first week in July, followed in subsequent weeks by Part 3, Part 4 and then Part 5

Golden Lion Print Cover

From the 1st of the year (with some breaks) through the end of July, I had 17 releases. I think I had 23 all of 2012, so 2013 was already on pace to beat it… but I had no idea how much more I was going to be putting out in 2013… 

Armand Rosamilia

Spotlight On: Mandy De Geit

Posted in authors, fiction, Flash Fiction, guest blog, horror, interview, Spotlight On on November 16, 2013 by Armand Rosamilia

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SPOTLIGHT ON: Mandy De Geit

 

What is your latest release and what genre is it?

“Fatty”, a horror flash and “Desperation”, also horror flash

 Anthology Year Two

Quick description of it.

“Desperation” a horror flash, will be published in Anthology: Year Two, which is being released November 9, 2013.

“Fatty”, horror flash can be found in Apokrupha’s flash anthology, Dark Bits.

Both are psychological horror and the limits some people can be pushed to.

 Dark Bits

Something unique about it.

The Dark Bits Anthology can also be purchased as a spiral bound 2014 weekly planner.

 

Links for people to buy it.

Dark Bits Anthology (Ebook, Hardcover and Paperback): http://apokrupha.com/dark-bits/

2014 Dark Bits Weekly Planner: http://www.lulu.com/shop/jacob-haddon/dark-bits-2014-weekly-planner/paperback/product-21260814.html

 

Your promo links.

Blog and website: http://mandydegeit.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MandyDeGeit

 

Your short Bio.

Mandy DeGeit lives in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada with her soulmate boyfriend (aka Dan #whoisnotonFB) and their many plants. Predominantly a short story writer, Mandy is now working on a few longer pieces that will be released in 2014 and 2015, including a novella, a novel and a co-written novella. Her short stories can be found in numerous anthologies, including but not limited to: 50 Shades of Decay, Quick Bite Of Flesh, LampLight Magazine, Zombie! Zombie! Brain Bang!, Shifters and Mistresses of the Macabre. When she’s not working on writing, she’s in the kitchen cooking up a storm in preparation for culinary school. She’ll be attending college in 2014 as she takes up yet another career. For more information on Mandy, follow her blog at http://mandydegeit.com/

Guest Post: Dan O’Brien

Posted in authors, Blogging, Flash Fiction, guest blog, horror on October 3, 2013 by Armand Rosamilia

 

December the 2nd

A Flash Fiction Guest Post by Dan O’Brien

 

 

Lightning flashed.

For one brief second, everything was illuminated.

And my life was never the same.

The walls were a strange color. I did not recognize them. The dull buzzing of a device beside me blinked with crimson lettering, spelling out the time. Throwing back the sheets, I did not recall how I had gotten into bed. As my feet touched the floor, the cold of the season traveled the length of my body.

A sense of dread overwhelmed me: What was my name?

Taking the three long steps to the door, I opened it with a frightened huff.

Patrick: that was my name.

The next room was not familiar. The high ceiling was clearly from an A-frame home. This was a piece of knowledge that I knew well: A-frame. Was I a carpenter?

Long windows were obscured by heavy drapes meant to keep in the warmth. The footsteps beyond the next door, creaking as they approached, were an acoustic nightmare. I contemplated taking a step back, but hesitated. Across the long room between me and the next door was a dilapidated mirror.

Each step was a recalled memory. Her name was Alice. I loved her from the moment I first saw her. I couldn’t imagine a life without her. We had a spring wedding; it rained, though only for a brief, beautiful moment. The sky grew dark––shadows infected everything.

The memories faded.

There was screaming.

Someone was repeating my name.

Suddenly, my head thundered. I recall a little boy, maybe nine or ten. The boy is Ryan, my brother. He hands a ball to me. My hands look youthful.

Looking down, my hands looked old.

How did I get so old?

The footsteps stopped at the door. A brief moment of panic overwhelmed me. With a defiant creak, the wooden door opened toward me. I raised my hands as if to shield my eyes, frightened for a moment that something horrific was waiting for me on the other side.

Chagrined, but still shaken, a man stood just inside the doorframe.

“Mr. Cleary, how are you feeling today?”

There was a vague sense of recollection when I looked at him. “Do I know you?”

He took a step into the room. “I am your doctor, Patrick. You brother is here to see you.”

I walked toward the man, noticing his white lab coat. I watched the mirror as I passed, but did not take the time to admire my reflection. I hadn’t seen my brother in a long time – how long I couldn’t be certain. A circular set of wooden stairs spiraled to the floor below. Gesturing forward, the doctor let me go first. I placed my hand on the handrail and again looked down at my hands: how old they looked.

I thought I should know the way, but I did not. The next room was a mystery. An ugly bourbon couch lined one wall. A man sat upon the couch, hands on his lap, a rolled-up newspaper clutched in his hands. Blue eyes looked at me with recognition.

I did not now this man.

“Pat?” The voice was familiar.

“Yes.”

He stood from the couch, placing the newspaper onto the cushion beside him. “Pat, it’s me. Ryan.”

I blinked several times and cocked my head. “You’re so old. How did you get so old?”

Ryan looked past me to the doctor, his eyes glassy. I couldn’t understand why Ryan was so old. I looked at my hands again: these were the hands of a very old man. I can remember Alice clearly. I remember that I was supposed to go to the store and get canned peaches.

“I need to get peaches.” The words felt odd.

Ryan gestured to the doctor angrily. “I thought you said things were getting better.”

There was a long piece of glass beyond my brother. A man stood behind me, an old man. Taking a tentative step forward, I touched my face. The image touched its face as well.

“Why am I so old?”

Ryan looked at me like a deer in headlights.

“Where is Alice? Where am I?”

Ryan grabbed my shoulder and I looked at his hands; old man hands.

“I have to get home. It’s the 1st. The 2nd is our anniversary. I saved up for a trip this year. Alice is going to love it.”

Ryan started crying then, the crawl of tears tracing rivers down his skin. “Today is the 2nd, Pat. December the 2nd.”

I looked at him oddly then. “We should get going then.”

Ryan shook his head. “You have to stay here….”

Touching my face again, I realize I am too old. I don’t remember being this old.

Lightning flashed.

For one brief second, everything was illuminated.

And my life was never the same.

My eyes open and I don’t recognize the room I’m in.

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Dan O’Brien has written 12 novels (all before the age of 30) including the bestselling Bitten, which was featured on Conversations Book Club’s Top 100 novels of 2012. Before starting Amalgam, he was the senior editor and marketing director for an international magazine. In addition, he has spent over a decade in the publishing industry as a freelance editor. He currently teaches psychology at CSU, Chico. You can learn more about Amalgam by visiting the website at: www.amalgamconsulting.com.

 

Love Werewolves? Check out Bitten!

Love Vampires in Therapy? Check out Mondays with Mephistopheles!

Love Zombies? Check The End of the World Playlist!

Love Apocalyptic Horror? Check out Hobbes Family!

 

 

Tracking The Next Year of Writing

Posted in #amwriting, Armand Rosamilia, authors, Blogging, Facebook, fiction, Flash Fiction, personal, short story, writing with tags , , , , , , , on October 1, 2013 by Armand Rosamilia

When people ask me how much I write, I tell them I hit my daily 2,000 word goal most of the time. I’ve had days and maybe even weeks where I’ve been on vacation or sick or I’ve been really busy, so I might guesstimate 10,000 words a week. Which means (for all you math wizards) in a given year I can pump out about 520,000 words. 

I figured out, from about this time last year to now, I’ve successful sold and/or published everything I’ve completed except for one flash fiction piece. 500 words out of 520k has been sold. A decent chunk (about 180k) of that was for a Hollywood company, and some of those releases are still sitting somewhere, but I got paid upfront and paid well for them. Everything else has seen the light of day. 

But I never really kept track.  

(Dramatic Pause)

Until Now. 

Starting today (October 1st 2013 so you don’t have to find your calendar) I will be tracking every word I write. Well, not every word. Not Facebook posts, blog posts, letters to the editor, grocery lists or updating my dead pool picks. But everything else will be tracked… every flash piece, short story, novella, novel… all of it. I won’t bore you with daily details but I will give some weekly or monthly updates to it. 

My Special Gal has created an Excel spreadsheet so I can drop in my numbers at the end of the day and let the magic begin. Obviously, my goal is to not only break 520k for the 12-month period, but to keep on getting things published and sold. At the end of the year I’ll talk about my 2014 goals like I do every year, and hoping to step up to another level with my career. 

If you’re interested in seeing more about this in coming weeks, let me know… if you think it’s stupid and you could care less, let me know… posts like this will motivate me to keep it going , because if I get behind I will look like an idiot and you can call me out on it.

When I did my 18k run a couple of weeks ago, many people sent me messages about it. I’d like to think I motivated a couple of fellow writers to buckle down and get writing. That is another part of the goal. Well, let’s see what the next 12 months of writing can bring me!

Armand Rosamilia

WRITER

Reblog: “Dying Days: Television” Zombie Short

Posted in Armand Rosamilia, authors, Blogging, dying days, Flash Fiction, guest blog, horror, short story, writing, zombie with tags , , , on April 16, 2013 by Armand Rosamilia

Patrick C. Greene was kind enough to let me post an unreleased Dying Days zombie short story on his blog, and I truly appreciate the support from him and his lovely wife Jennifer L. Greene (they like those middle initials in this family, apparently)…

http://www.patrickcgreene.com/2013/04/dying-days-are-upon-us.html

In Tribute To Stew

Posted in Armand Rosamilia, dying days, Flash Fiction, horror, personal, short story, zombie on March 30, 2013 by Armand Rosamilia

This week we lost a great friend, who’s battle with cancer came on suddenly and took his life… but Larry ‘Stew’ Stewart will never be missed, and I’d like to think even now he’s up in Heaven teaching the angels the proper techniques to use a crossbow. He was a huge fan of the Dying Days zombie series and came out with his wife Gerri (and, of course, Orion) in support of me at book signings. I was lucky enough to meet him through author Tim Baker, and I’m glad I did. Alas, not five minutes after completing this tale I received the word he’d gotten his final orders. 

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Dying Days: Stew

Armand Rosamilia

 

            Orion stood at attention next to Larry “Stew” Stewart, waiting for the signal. There were three zombies in the Cracker Barrel parking lot, all wandering aimlessly. He had a clear shot at two of them but the other was behind the façade and the closest to the front doors. The zombie was stumbling through the ornate wooden rocking chairs for sale.

Stew bent down slightly, feeling his knees shake. His lower back, still giving him fits thanks to a war wound as a gunner in a humvee, popped loud enough he thought the zombies would hear him. “On my count, Orion. I need you to distract the last one. But first…” Stew drew his crossbow and pulled two bolts from his shoulder bag.

With precision aim he took out the first two zombies with perfect bull’s-eye hits to the forehead, dropping them both. He turned to his faithful companion, Orion, and nodded. “Go.”

Orion ran across the parking lot in silence, stopping a few feet from the zombie until the undead noticed the dog. Orion danced backwards as the zombie approached.

The crossbow bolt took it right in the left eye and it fell to its knees before planting face-first into the pavement.

“Here you go,” Stew said and pulled the last liver treat from his jacket pocket, tossing it to Orion. “We make a great team.”

The Cracker Barrel was dark inside, but Stew was always prepared. You didn’t survive this long in such a harsh climate using a cane and with a bad back and two bad knees unless you knew what you were doing. He pulled a small flashlight from his gear and took a tentative step inside. He had his Taurus Circuit Judge rifle-barrel shotgun with .410 gauge 3-inch magnum shotshells at the ready, and his 4510 Taurus Public Defender revolver was loose in his side holster. He didn’t want to alert any zombies in the area to his presence, but he would use his firepower if need be.

He used the light to methodically scan the ruins of the Cracker Barrel, noticing the faint footprints in the gathering dust. Someone had been here and recently.

Stew put a hand up for Orion. He didn’t want the dog to go running inside blindly and get bit or get shot by the living. It was safer to keep him back until he was needed. And Stew hoped it didn’t get to that. He had another bolt ready to go in his crossbow.

Once he got inside he kept the flashlight aimed at the dirty floor, and knew there were at least three sets of recent prints in the building. The retail store side was trashed, with broken clothing racks on the floor and the shelves barren and cracked, tables rotting and covered in a layer of dust. The front windows had been blown in at some point and a pile of leaves, tree branches and dirt were under the windows.

Orion gave a short, low growl.

Stew turned and fired his crossbow, striking the zombie in the face. Her dirty blonde hair, straggly and falling out, came off the top of her head as her bloated corpse hit the ground with a loud thud.

He turned as fast as his injuries would allow, scanning the restaurant for more threats. Confident he was alone for the moment, he bent and rubbed Orion’s side. “Good job, once again.” Stew wished he had more treats or some hot dogs. Orion loved hot dogs.

The thump from the kitchen brought another bolt to the crossbow and Stew was sliding quietly across the dirty floor without a sound. He kept Orion back with a simple hand command. He didn’t want to find a hundred zombies inside and have Orion charge into the fight. And Orion would to protect Stew.

Stew was glad there were no doors leading into the kitchen. From his vantage point he could see only darkness. He put the crossbow into his left hand and slowly raised the flashlight, the beam cutting through a destroyed server station just inside the door, its light gleaming off the stainless steel counters. Before he swept the beam to either side he saw the movement.

The flashlight was put between his teeth and he took the shot with the crossbow, slamming the lead zombie through the nose and pushing it back into the three behind it.

His Public Defender was pulled, and he planted his good leg and began shooting the zombies one at a time as they stumbled out of the kitchen. He didn’t want to announce his position, but he didn’t have a choice.

The first three went down and he had a pause as the next one tried to step over his comrades and fell to the floor, kicking up dust. Stew noticed all of them were heavily armed, although they had no brains to use the weapons.

Stew caught the movement to his left as more zombies came from around the other kitchen door, rifles and ammo belts around their shoulders and backs. He took careful aim so he didn’t hit a weapon, and started putting them down.

He switched to the Circuit Judge and blew holes in them, taking a large chunk of the wall as well. None of the zombies got close to him, falling well short of the fireplace between the openings.

Another three zombies came from the left and two more from the right and Stew kept his focus, spraying back and forth until there was nothing moving. Dust and smoke stung his eyes but he didn’t so much as blink, because he was too busy listening for the scraping of a shoe or any movement. Satisfied after two minutes of keeping still, he finally entered the kitchen, leading with the Circuit Judge and his flashlight. Once he was sure the Cracker Barrel was secure, he’d go back and strip the enemy of their weapons.

There was a lone zombie crawling on the floor at him, its legs severed from the knees. Stew put it out of its misery with a shot to the head.

At one point some or all of these zombies had been alive, because the office was packed with boxes of food and gallons of water, and the kitchen counters were covered with so much ammo and weapons Stew wanted to cry. “We hit paydirt,” he whispered to Orion. “The only thing missing is some hot dogs for you.”

Stew smiled at his good fortune, and went about securing the dining room windows and main doors, setting traps in the parking lot, and inventorying his massive supply of guns, ammo and food.

If he didn’t find a pack of hot dogs in one of the ice chests, he’d have to keep on his journey, but at least he had a solid home base for his new missions.

Stew smiled and pet Orion.

Reblog: A Steampunk story by Armand Rosamilia!

Posted in Armand Rosamilia, Flash Fiction, short story, steampunk on February 17, 2013 by Armand Rosamilia

I am featured today on the Celebration Station! Railroad website by Tonia Brown. This Steampunk tale was written for my daughter Katelynn, and Tonia liked it enough to publish it. Someday I will write more in this world, I hope…

http://steampunktrain.blogspot.com/2013/02/celebration-station-armand-rosamilia.html

“Cthulhunicorn” by Katelynn and Armand Rosamilia

Posted in 99 cent eBook, Cthulhu, Flash Fiction, horror, unicorn, writing on July 6, 2012 by Armand Rosamilia

My latest release is Ancient, the first Lovecraftian short story in my A Keyport Cthulhu Tale series. It is currently available on Amazon and SmashWords and Barnes & Noble… and it’s only 99 cents. The cover is killer and from Jeffrey Kosh.

I added a bonus short story to the release, a flash fiction piece written by me and my eleven year old daughter, Katelynn, combining her love (unicorns) and mine (Cthulhu)… I decided to share it. Katelynn wrote the unicorn parts and I wrote the rest. I hope you enjoy our tongue-in-cheek mash-up.

Cthulhunicorn

Katelynn Rosamilia & Armand Rosamilia

 

Taffy the Unicorn was near Innsmouth and wanted to go swimming. It was a beautiful day and she saw a very inviting beach nearby.

Taffy decided to fly over and stay for a little while. When Taffy arrived, she looked around and saw that no one was there. She found the perfect spot to lay and nap for a bit.

When Taffy woke up she decided to go swimming in the clear turquoise ocean. The water was perfect and she was a terrific swimmer. She didn’t want to get out but she was getting tired of swimming and she was getting pruney.

She got out of the water she wanted to build a sand castle but soon figured out that unicorns couldn’t make sand castles because of there hooves.

Taffy saw several people that looked fishy coming down the beach, so she decided that it was time for her to leave. Taffy decided to get one more look of the ocean before she said goodbye. When she peered out into the distance, she saw an island. Before going home, Taffy decided to fly over to the island and see what it had to offer.

*   *   *   *   *

That is not dead which can eternal lie… but Cthulhu was sure growing bored after all this time. He spread out on theisland ofR’lyeh, which had risen from the ocean floor for the first time in aeons. Before nightfall, however, it would once again sink to the deepest bottom of the ocean and be lost once more.

Cthulhu wanted to enjoy some sunshine, maybe tan a few of his appendages and feel sand between his tentacles before it was all lost in infinite wetness. There was nothing worse than trying to play with sand a thousand feet deep.

He wanted to eternally lie… on the beach and watch the cute, puffy clouds pass overhead as the sun warmed his cold body and dried his moving parts.

As Cthulhu flapped his tentacles in the air and wished the clear blue sky was always this close (and, he realized, with some dismay, seeing the sky so close made him homesick… and home was so out of reach right now), he saw a bird up above in the distance.

The bird got closer, but it was too big. Maybe one of those monster creatures he’d seen hundreds of years ago? Giant teeth, huge wingspan like a flying killing animal.

Yet, as it came closer he saw it was a horse. A flying horse? It had a horn on its head, multi-colored wings and landed on the beach not far from him.

Instead of being scared, it said hello.

*   *   *   *   *

And so Taffy and Cthulhu fell in love. They spent the rest of the afternoon getting to know each other and having a good time.

Taffy was explaining her day at the beach when she mentioned how she couldn’t make a sand castle. Cthulhu offered to make her one. She was excited to see how it would come out. When the castle was finished, Taffy was amazed. It was humongous and Taffy thought it was the most romantic thing she had ever seen.

As the sun set over the water, Taffy knew it was time to go home, and so did Cthulhu. Taffy and Cthulhu were so in love that they decided to get married on the beach that very same night.

Taffy was so excited that she was finally going to be married. She invited her whole family and all of her unicorn friends to the wedding.

The fishy people of Innsmouth rowed out to the island, the Esoteric Order of Dagon did the catering, Shub Niggaruth and Nyarlotep stood in as Maid of Honor and Best Man, and the Pickman Bakery of Massachusetts provided the wedding cake.

The wedding was so pretty and it was the one Taffy had always dreamed about growing up.

They spent their one and only night as a married couple on the beach together, watching the stars. Cthulhu pointed out which one he was from.

*   *   *   *   *

The baby had her fathers eyes. Oh, and his tentacles. Even though her hide was a weird color you couldn’t really describe with words, she was still perfect to her mother. Most days and nights, while Taffy taught her daughter how to be a unicorn and also how to honor her father, they would sit on the beach near Innsmouth and wait for Cthulhu.

And pray for Father, roaming free…

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