Do the Dead Dream? – Blitz

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Speculative Fiction
An Anthology of the Weird and the Peculiar
Published: October 2017
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Do the dead dream?
Dive a wreck that was never there, in the waters off Bimini . . .
Meet a young girl who debates with rooftop monsters . . .
Dine at a tiny café teetering on the edge of oblivion . . .
Take refuge from a downpour in a gas station from nowhere . . .
Discover the real reason behind migraines . . .
Encounter a love gone bad before it ever existed . . .
Explore the emotional remains of a woman’s not-quite-dead past . . .
Follow a WWII airman plummeting through flak-filled German skies . . .
Edgy.
Unnerving.
Not quite right.
These are but a few of the surreal, the weird, and the peculiar you will encounter in a realm few willingly tread…with or without the lights on.
Early Reviews
“F. P. Dorchak writes like a hot-rodder heading toward a brick wall. Edge of your seat entertainment! I pondered over each of these stories long after I’d finished reading them. That’s what great writing is all about!” – Dean Wyant, Co-Founder, Hex Publishers
 
 
“A collection that folds upon itself like a Möbius strip. A twisted landscape of the humane, the weird, and the fantastic.” – Mario Acevedo, Author, University of Doom
 
 
“Stylistically edgy and willing to muck around in the darker corners of life, the stories in Do The Dead Dream? are both bold and gritty. Readers looking to be soothed and reassured about the human condition, seek elsewhere.” – Mark Stevens, The Allison Coil Mystery Series
 
 
“F. P. Dorchak’s anthology—a collection of forty-five short stories—spans decades and showcases the author’s wide-ranging talent. With tales that are at turns engaging, suspenseful, twisty and often slyly humorous, Dorchak focuses his penetrating gaze on those things we too often take for granted—and makes us laugh or shiver in the doing. Reading Do the Dead Dream? takes you across a threshold into a Kafkaesque world where anything can happen; if Rod Serling were still on Planet Earth, he would be the first to offer his voice for the audio version.” – Barbara Nickless, The Sydney Parnell Mystery Series
 
 
“So reminiscent of the Twilight Zone! Imagine a story between light and shadow, between science fiction and superstition, between what you know about horror, and what horrors one can only imagine. Gritty and beautifully crafted, Do the Dead Dream? is the sort of collection readers will enjoy story after story.” – J.A. Kazimer, Author of CURSES!
 
 
“From the surreal to the all too real, F. P. Dorchak’s stories delve into the realms of the mind, otherworldly beings, loves lost, and the fickle nature of death. With a little bit of everything, this collection of stories will haunt readers long after they’ve closed the book.” – Shannon Lawrence, Short Story Author, Blogger, The Warrior Muse
 
 
“Do The Dead Dream? is a masterpiece. F. P. Dorchak effortlessly weaves the real and surreal into twisting, epically personal stories. “Etched In Stone” and “Tail Gunner” challenge what we know as real and yet are completely human tales of love, loss, and camaraderie with incredible resonance. This is a collection of the highest order from a supremely talented author.” – Kevin Ikenberry, The Protocol War Series
 
 
“F. P. Dorchak’s short stories take a look at the world in an inside-out, rarely visited way. These are neither happily-ever-after tales nor ghost stories solely meant to creep you out. They are worlds that can be deliciously understated like dreams of dreams, as enigmatic as time warps, and as unexpected as falling in all directions at once. We meet werewolves and undead and people whose past lives bleed through. These tales are nostalgia-meets-a-future with nighttime borders that hint something is not quite right, each one putting the reader in a graying state between sleep and wakefulness.” – Karen Albright Lin, WritersLaunchPad
 
 
“F. P. Dorchak blurs the lines between reality and the paranormal with his vast collection of unnerving tales that are sure to keep you up past midnight.” – Joshua Viola, Denver Post bestselling author
 
 
“From a dangerously precocious little girl who befriends gargoyles to a conventional guy who discovers (first hand) an invasion of mind-blowing creatures, F. P. Dorchak offers up a collection of horrifying short stories in Do The Dead Dream?, which he delivers with an inimitable, unique voice. The reader accompanies Dorchak’s characters’ bizarre experiences that manifest as rapid-fire flashes of thought-pandemonium . . . as would naturally occur under such unnatural circumstances. Just when you think the path is headed in an obvious direction, Dorchak jerks the road out from under your beliefs to find yourself suddenly drawn along a most unexpected thoroughfare.” – Jan C. J. Jones, Executive Producer/Writer, FOREST ROSE PRODUCTIONS, LLC, A Journey with Strange Bedfellows
 
 
“You may think you’ve read it all, but F. P Dorchak’s “Do the Dead Dream?” will test the limits of your imagination. Picture Stephen King as a mad scientist, mixing bits of Night Gallery with a generous helping of Black Mirror, a dash of Altered States, a pinch of metaphysics, and a healthy dose of surrealism. Dorchak takes you forward and backward in time, puts you in the cockpit of a plane, plunges you into the ocean, and ushers you into other realms you never expected. Buckle up for a unique and unforgettable ride.” – Paul Gallagher, Writer/Editor, Blogger, Shadow & Substance
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Excerpt
 
Homecoming
2000
There comes a time in everyone’s life when you must face the music.
To think back to your childhood . . . when you were basically not held accountable for much. Those were the fun times, happy times! Happy and carefree. Life was your amusement park!
You had no real responsibilities, aside from school and a few chores. If you had a bike, you were mobile and that meant freedom! The world was literally at your feet! And the challenges! Nothing went unchallenged! Everything was suspect, from your home to your school. You’d try to get away with as much as possible, testing the system. You’d steal that candy bar just to see if you could get away with it . . . stay out later and later on dates.
It was all part of being a kid.
The excitement of being a kid!
But then things begin to change about mid-way through high school.
Slowly but surely more responsibility was layered into your life. No longer did things remain just mere “unaccountable challenges” . . . and if you later became one of the few to go to war, you witnessed the atrocities of mankind. Things that seared your soul with an intense anger and hatred.
Sadness.
It was anger at the cruelties and callousness of conflict. At how the Human Condition could inflict torture—mental or physical—upon another. You wondered how could such things be? How could—can—people be driven to perform such atrocities—horrible, unspeakable acts upon each other.
How God could allow such things.
But it was and is real . . . and won’t ever go away.
The worst part is that it isn’t just confined to wars: it breeds . . . finding other ways to manifest . . . unleash itself. War (you find) just becomes a convenient excuse.
And while you’re in the middle of it all, you may find yourself thinking back to a particular girl you knew . . . before you left and everything went crazy. You think back to when you and her were an item.
Inseparable.
In love.
You think back with a sadness that bites deep. You think back to when you told her not to worry . . . you’d be back.
She says, well what about all the others who’ve said the same? You look her in the eyes and tell her—with all seriousness—that you’re different.
Yes, you think back to that time . . . and how you began to doubt your own words. She was the one you really cared about.
You remember that when that night was over so was your relationship. No one said anything, but you both felt it. And it wasn’t that you would necessarily never come back . . . no that wasn’t it. It was the waiting . . . and what you might become . . . .
She never wrote to you and you never wrote her—well, maybe once. You did write her that one time just to let her know you were okay. But that was it. When there was no response, you knew why.
There was no animosity. It was just something that had to be.
But you did come back . . . all limbs and mentality intact. At least you think so. Maybe you are a little rougher around the edges—there was no part of your being that was not bruised from your “experiences,” “they” call them—but you were still you.
That boy who’d gone off to war.
So you found your way to her place, that lone porch light still on the way you remember it. You knock at the door . . . her father opens it. Looks outside. He looks right through you as you stand before him . . . then he solemnly turns around without saying a word and reenters the house, head slumped miserably forward.
You, however, straighten yours up more.
You’re prepared.
Couldn’t be more prepared.
You turn back to the street . . . your thousand-yard stare catches you off-guard . . . recall the firefights . . . the carnage . . . the smell of death and destruction . . . but also the life you had before the war . . . before . . . before you’d changed . . . .
It seems you stand there for an eternity.
Then a hand reaches out for you.
You turn.
She stands before the door, face to face with you.
You’re knees buckle.
Something inside you unhinges.
Tears . . . pain . . . in both sets of eyes.
You weren’t the only one who’d changed.
You thought you’d forever lost her . . . and she you. Sure, she had her “experiences” (“they” call them) while you were gone . . . but she’d always held you closest . . . never really wanted to let you go. You see it in her eyes. Feel it in the electricity between the both of you.
You were back . . . and so was she.
Back for you.
Gently you take her hand. Together you both turn . . . and hand-in-hand step off the porch . . . and vaporize as your feet hit the path leading away from one life . . .
Into another.
About the Author

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F. P. Dorchak writes gritty speculative fiction. Frank is published in the U.S., Canada, and the Czech Republic. His novels are Voice, Psychic, ERO, The Uninvited, and Sleepwalkers, and his first anthology, Do The Dead Dream? won the 2017 Best Books Award for Fiction: Short Stories. His short stories have appeared in the off-the-grid The Black Sheep; You Belong 2016, Words and Images from Longmont Area Residents regional anthology for 2016; The You Belong Collection, Writings and Illustrations by Longmont Area Residents regional anthology for 2012; Apollo’s Lyre. Frank can occasionally be reached in séances, and his website is www.fpdorchak.com.
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PRIVILEGE by Bethany-Kris – Release Blitz

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PRIVILEGE

by Bethany-Kris
Renzo + Lucia , #1
Publication Date: January 7, 2019
Genres: Adult, Romantic Suspense, Organized Crime. Erotic Romance

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AVAILABLE NOW!

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SYNOPSIS

They didn’t come from the same world …

Born rich to a family of mafia royalty, Lucia Marcello was already destined to succeed. She wanted for absolutely nothing, until she met him.

Born poor to parents who never cared, Renzo Zulla was already destined to fail. He has struggled for absolutely everything, but she’ll prove to be his biggest fight yet.

She’s high society from the upscale suburbs.
He’s a drug dealer from New York’s slums.

They just weren’t meant to be … until they were.

What would it take to change a life—an entire perspective? All the things you thought you knew and wanted?

For them, it took thirty-six days.
And the privilege of meeting each other.

They shouldn’t be.
They don’t fit.
Love doesn’t care.

Note: Privilege is book one in a three-book trilogy following the same couple.

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EXCLUSIVE RELEASE EXCERPT:

“What are we doing here?” Lucia asked.

“Just keep quiet,” John replied. “I’ve got some business to handle. I knew that you were wanting to chat and see me, or whatever, but I still have work to do all the same. Turn cheek like Dad always told you to do, and we’ll be fine.”

Lucia chose not to respond to her brother on that front. “Working, working?”

“I don’t have any other job, Lucy. I’m a Capo, and nothing more.”

Great.

John parked the Mercedes in front of a shoddy apartment building. He repeated to her to stay put and leave the car locked until he came back. Then, he climbed out of the car, and Lucia watched him disappear into the building. Less than ten minutes later, her brother emerged from the building with a black duffle bag in hand. John unlocked the car and tossed the bag to the back.

Once he was settled back into the driver’s seat, he said, “Just ask.”

Lucia peered into the back seat. “What is in that bag?”

“A couple of things.”

“Like what?”

“Money and substance.”

“Um …”

“Coke,” her brother clarified. “I need to pick up some stuff and hand it off to the people who run with it. Do you understand?”

“Not really.”

John shook his head. “Then stop asking.”

Lucia could do that.

“I have a couple of more pickups to do before I can take you back. Is that okay?”

“Perfect, John.”

Her brother pulled out of the parking space. “Good.”

For the next hour, Lucia sat quietly in the car while her brother did whatever it was he did. He often disappeared in and out of buildings with his black bag in hand, and no one ever passed him a second look. Apparently three years in prison really wasn’t affecting her brother’s ability to do his job.

Sticking a spoonful of a hot fudge sundae in her mouth as John drove through what looked to be a park of some sorts, Lucia noticed a group of older kids hanging around a convenience store. Well, she didn’t think they were kids, but they were probably around her age or a little older.

John parked his car and beeped the horn once. He flashed his lights twice. Confused, Lucia watched as an older boy broke away from the group and approached John’s car. Since the sky was starting to darken, she really couldn’t see the guy’s face all that well. But the closer he came to John’s window, Lucia had a far better view of him.

Sharp, strong lines shaped the man’s face. Wild black hair, like he’d been tugging on the ends, hung down to his eyes. Dark russet eyes peered into John’s opened window, finding Lucia instantly, while the guy’s lips pulled into a cocky smirk.

Lucia glanced away.

“Hey, Ren,” John greeted.

Ren.

Lucia took the guy’s name in, and chanced another look at him. He wasn’t looking at her anymore, but instead, focusing on John.

“Skip,” Ren said.

“You got anything for me today?”

“Always, boss.”

Ren’s hand disappeared inside his coat before he pulled out a white envelope. It passed into John’s hand like nothing was amiss. John opened it up, counted the cash that was inside quickly, and then handed over a stack to the man. Then, Lucia’s brother tossed the envelope onto the backseat.

“Go see, Tucker,” John said. “He’ll get you set up for next week for whatever you need.”

“Will do, Skip.”

Ren’s hand hit the top of the car, but before he turned away, he shot Lucia another look. Lucia fidgeted in her seat as her brother took notice of the stare that was passing between the two.

“Ren,” John snapped.

Clearly, her brother was not playing around today. He’d never been one for boys being around Lucia, anyway.

“Sorry, Skip,” Ren said. “I’m going. Next week?”

“Yeah. Get gone, kid.”

John was backing up before Ren had even moved away.

Once they were back on the road, Lucia’s curiosity ate away at her.

“John?”

“What?” her brother asked.

“Who was that?”

“Renzo?”

Lucia would recognize an Italian name anywhere.

“Yeah, him,” she said.

“A street kid,” John informed like it was nothing. “A soldier who probably isn’t going anywhere but right where he is. It sucks, but that’s how it goes.”

Lucia picked at her manicured nails, still curious. “Why?”

“Because that’s what his father did for our father, and his grandfather for our grandfather. It’s a circle, Lucia. It’s vicious. It’s the kind of life they can’t get out of even though they try damned hard. What does it matter?”

She didn’t really know.

“Just wondering,” Lucia settled on saying.

John’s gaze cut in her direction before he said, “Keep wondering. Nothing more.”

“Huh?”

“Stay away from guys like Renzo, Lucia.”

“I didn’t even say—”

“Take it as future advice,” John interrupted. “Remember it.”

She would try.

PRIVILEGE teaser 3

ABOUT BETHANY-KRIS

Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother to four young sons, one cat, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her boys under her feet, snuggling cat, barking dogs, and a hubby calling over his shoulder, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.

To keep up-to-date with new releases from Bethany-Kris, sign up to her New Release Newsletter here: https://eepurl.com/bf9lzD

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Shrill Dusk – Blitz

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Urban Fantasy
City of Magic, Book 1
Release Date: January 4, 2018
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Charley is a cleaner by day and a professional gambler by night. She might be haunted by her tragic past but she’s never thought of herself as anything or anyone special. Until, that is, things start to go terribly wrong all across the city of Manchester. Between plagues of rats, firestorms and the gleaming blue eyes of a sexy Scottish werewolf, she might just have landed herself in the middle of a magical apocalypse. She might also be the only person who has the ability to bring order to an utterly chaotic new world.
This is the first book in The City Of Magic series.
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About the Author

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After teaching English literature in the UK, Japan, and Malaysia, Helen Harper left behind the world of education following the worldwide success of her Blood Destiny series of books. She is a professional member of the Alliance of Independent Authors and writes full time, thanking her lucky stars every day that’s she lucky enough to do so!
Helen has always been a book lover, devouring science fiction and fantasy tales when she was a child growing up in Scotland.
She currently lives in Devon in the UK with far too many cats – not to mention the dragons, fairies, demons, wizards, and vampires that seem to keep appearing from nowhere.
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Reprobation – Blitz

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Reprobation
Crime Thriller/Mystery
Date Published: 16th October 2018
Publisher: Crooked Cat
 
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Are You One Of The Elect?
Dr. Helen Hope is a lecturer in eschatology – the study of death, judgment, and the destiny of humankind. She is also a Calvinist nun, her life devoted to atoning for a secret crime.
When a body is found crucified on a Liverpool beach, she forms an unlikely alliance with suspect Mikko Kristensen, lead guitarist in death metal band Total Depravity. Together, they go on the trail of a rogue geneticist who they believe holds the key – not just to the murder, but to something much darker.
Also on the trail is cynical Scouse detective Darren Swift. In his first murder case, he must confront his own lack of faith as a series of horrific crimes drag the city of two cathedrals to the gates of hell.
Science meets religious belief in this gripping murder mystery.
Excerpt
In this scene Deaconess Margaret Mills, a figurehead of the Sisters of Grace, subjects the congregation of St Michael’s Church to one of her threatening sermons. Sister Helen’s feelings about the Deaconess are beginning to change, and at the end of the service, she tells her first lie.
‘All of us are sinners. All people are conceived in sin and are born children of wrath, unfit for any saving good. Inclined to evil! Dead in their sins! Slaves to sin! Without the grace of the regenerating Holy Spirit, they are neither willing nor able to return to God, to reform their distorted nature, or even to dispose themselves to such reform. I say again, All of Us Are Sinners!’
This last sentence was said with such venom and volume that several members of the congregation who were sitting in the front pews visibly recoiled. Deaconess Margaret Mills always began her Wednesday evening sermons from the pulpit, in a gentle voice tinged with a hint of menace. She would build gradually, moving from the pulpit to the floor, a crescendo of portentous threats as her whole body would come into play. She was a natural performer, with eyes widening and narrowing at just the right moments, catching individuals so that they wanted to look away in shame but couldn’t. Her voice would range from ominous low to shrieking high, the gentle Northern accent sounding impossibly grand in this part of the world. There was no comfort to be had from her sermons, only the fear of God struck into one’s heart, and this was the appeal. For the residents, for the visitors, for Helen. Most of the congregation loved the firebrand thrill of the performance, the horror-film quality of the fear. But for Helen, the fear was real, visceral. She craved this punishment, this constant, caustic reminder of her sin. After some more fire and brimstone, the Deaconness softened and brought kindness, a sweet manipulation for her audience.
‘Yes, all of us are sinners. And nothing brings the beauty of Jesus Christ to sinful people, believers, and unbelievers alike, as powerfully as God’s own Scriptures. The Scriptures are the basis of our teaching, of our Gospel, for the word of God is the only word. And we do not question the word of God. From this comes our happiness’.
She smiled for a moment then suddenly, spectacularly, turned up the anger again.
‘And to those who complain about this grace of an undeserved election and about the severity of just reprobation, we reply with the words of the apostle ‘Who are you, O man, to talk back to God?’
Her eyes were wild now and ranged from one person to the next in fury. St. Michael’s Church was small, more of a chapel than a church, having been built originally to serve only the Argarmeols family and their employees. There was no division between the nave and chancery, and no room for aisles flanking the nave at its edges. Therefore there was no escaping the Deaconess’s wrath as she stalked the pews, allowing herself to be an eager vessel for the bitter rage of the Calvinist God. The majesty of this church interior lay in its absurd height; in typical Victorian Gothic style, it had been built to aspire to the sky, drawing the eye upwards and reminding the worshipper how very far above him his God was to be found.
‘God’s plan cannot be changed; God’s promise cannot fail; the calling according to God’s purpose cannot be revoked!’
She sighed with theatrical exhaustion, closing her eyes and raising her hands in supplication, before wringing them and returning to the pulpit. She was disappointed with her flock, this rabble of hopeless candidates for heaven. She looked from one face to the next, expectant. The Deaconness taught religious education part-time in a local private school, and Helen, sitting in her usual position on the front pew, sometimes amused herself at the thought of the terror she must instill in those teenagers.
‘May God’s son Jesus Christ, who sits at the right hand of God and gives gifts to humanity, sanctify us in the truth, lead to the truth those who err, silence the mouths of those who lay false accusations against sound teaching, and equip faithful ministers of God’s Word with a spirit of wisdom and discretion, that all they say may be to the glory of God and the building up of their hearers. Amen’.
At the end of the service, Helen waited as the small congregation filed out in a silent purge, wrapping their coats against the cold autumn evening, Helen approached Margaret who was collecting her papers together at the altar.
‘Deaconness?’
Margaret spun around. ‘Yes, tell me.’
‘Would it be ok if I took the car overnight tonight?’
Margaret’s eyes and body language betrayed a momentary flicker of disappointment – she had been hoping Helen might ask something else.
‘I thought I might go and see my mother.’
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea, Helen? You’ve tried very hard, but it only seems to upset you every time. Has something happened?’
‘No, no, I… just think it’s important to keep showing I’m there for her, you know.’
‘Of course.’ There were those hands on Helen’s shoulders again. ‘Drive safely and come and see me tomorrow when you return, let me know how it went.’
‘I will Margaret, thank you. And may I take some money from the kitty? I think we need petrol.’
About the Author

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Catherine Fearns is a writer from Liverpool. Her first novel, crime thriller Reprobation, was published by Crooked Cat on October 16th, 2018. Her second, Consuming Fire, will be out in February 2019. As a music journalist, Catherine has written for Pure Grain Audio, Broken Amp and Noisey. Her short fiction and non-fiction have appeared in Toasted Cheese, Succubus, Here Comes Everyone, Offshoots, and Metal Music Studies. She lives in Geneva with her husband and four children.
 
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Perdition – Cover Reveal

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Perdition

Love Unauthorized Series (Book 3)
Publication Date: January 24, 2019
Reading Order: (1) Deceit in Bloom, (2) Vengeance in Bloom, (3) Perdition
Cover Designer: The Final Wrap

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In the eyes of a young girl with a crush, the perfect man exists.

After the events of the last year, she isn’t young or naive anymore. A brutal attack has left nothing but extreme darkness inside her that not even the people who love her the most can mend. A bus ride and a chance encounter have her shadowed path crossing with someone who nurtures the wildness within her as evil ravages her soul and a journey of self-medicating begins. Sometimes, you have to rip apart and tear away at layers of heartbreak and anguish to find a semblance of peace within the future.

Falling into a headspace so dark that there is no coming back.

Sinking into choices so self-destructive that her body, heart, and soul might never heal.

Spiraling down until she becomes her own worst enemy, inflicting further pain.

Pure evil takes away everything that makes her who she is. Cold touches from the hands of strangers and comfort in the form of injecting numbness straight into her veins can’t help her escape. Forget teetering on the edge of the wreckage.

She’s welcoming, inviting, seeking.

Nothing is ever perfect, and the same can be said here.

This is Teagan Hensley’s story.

Warning:
Perdition deals with heavy topics of violence and emotional distress. The graphic scenes and the followup are intense and dark. Caution is strongly advised for those sensitive to physical and sexual violence, drug use, and depression. Strong language is also used throughout the story. You’ve been advised.

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Purchase: Deceit in Bloom | Vengeance in Bloom

About Jennifer Michael

As a child, Jennifer Michael dreamed of being an author. Life and adulting pushed that dream down to a mere fantasy. Then, as a reader, she found the indie romance world, and the dream that had been long ago deemed unattainable became a reality.

Writing fulfills pieces of Jennifer she lost. She writes stories that range from sweet and sultry to dark and daring. Behind her computer, she’s constantly dreaming up where she’ll go next, not wanting to be put in a specific romance genre box. Pushing limits and striving to conquer wherever the characters take her is the ultimate methods to her madness.

Jennifer resides in southwest Florida where she wishes she spent much more time at the beach. She’s an avid reader of gritty books with deep emotion or dark, twisty plots and fond of more than a few guilty-pleasure television shows. She gets sucked into the world of characters from all mediums.

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