With one book down and seeing that it wasn’t as “hard” or “scary” as I thought, I’ve been plugging away at the second, full-length follow up.
The first quarter is done and going to the editor tomorrow. I figured what better thing to share this Thursday than the upcoming’s introduction?
And this way if you haven’t bought the first one, you have even more reason to…To check out the easier, softer material in preparation for the visceral contents of the second.
Such a good word, visceral.
So here you go…
From, There’s No Good Campfires Left In Hell
INTRODUCTION
Cue the elevator music. A woman’s voice alerts the scum bag contents of the the descending box that they are going down. This includes you. The riders breath deep, exhale and lean themselves against the three walls. It’s now that it sinks in there’s no getting out. Slight panic graces their faces, all looking to one another for recognition. Recognition that the ship is going down and not up, and that this is it. This is it, Buddy. The slow descent to Hell.
You look to your neighbor and give a shrug. What’s there to do? You reach for the bottle you wish was tucked in your breast pocket. As your fingers grace the lining you find that one has magically appeared. Ha ha! This can’t be so bad. You take a swig, raise the bottle to your fellow riders. They look at you with a strange curiosity. Your body ever so slowly begins to evaporate. You look at your hand as it has all but gone. Your fate has been sealed. You wonder if your fellow passengers will make the same choice, fumbling for their form of poison to seal the deal after witnessing yours. After such a most uncanny occurrence you can bet your sore ass they’ll be right behind you, Bucko.
Somewhere between your first drink and the end of the bottle, you’ve left the elevator and now seem to be waiting outside some seedy back alley speakeasy. You’re next in line for your branding and then you’ll be lead to your permanent bar stool, your name etched in fire and brimstone. Plenty of your type of poison is eternally available. The only problem is, as you go further and further down the preverbal rabbit hole of drug and alcohol consumption, your soul is slowly sucked out of your ears and into Satan’s own special bottle. You’ll become your own sort of microbrew, one that’s never finished fermenting or ready to be served. You see, the bottle has a hole in it and it’s contents drain right into Hell’s very own sewer and left there to rot with all the other turds.
Lovely picture isn’t it? That’s about how it was for me. I made a choice, I had a bad feeling about it, but proceeded full on anyway and ended up in Hell. I sat there for awhile, took advantage of all the libations it had to offer, then eventually came to and tried to figure a way out.
There you have it. There will be more bones to be thrown at a later date, most likely.
Buy Hi, Have You Met Me? on Amazon today! http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B009W1M
Check out the blog on it's home site @
www.hihaveyoumetme.com for previous writings and more.
Don’t forget to stalk me further at https://twitter.com/#!/hihaveyoumetme orhttp://www.facebook.com/authorkatemonahan
The first quarter is done and going to the editor tomorrow. I figured what better thing to share this Thursday than the upcoming’s introduction?
And this way if you haven’t bought the first one, you have even more reason to…To check out the easier, softer material in preparation for the visceral contents of the second.
Such a good word, visceral.
So here you go…
From, There’s No Good Campfires Left In Hell
INTRODUCTION
Cue the elevator music. A woman’s voice alerts the scum bag contents of the the descending box that they are going down. This includes you. The riders breath deep, exhale and lean themselves against the three walls. It’s now that it sinks in there’s no getting out. Slight panic graces their faces, all looking to one another for recognition. Recognition that the ship is going down and not up, and that this is it. This is it, Buddy. The slow descent to Hell.
You look to your neighbor and give a shrug. What’s there to do? You reach for the bottle you wish was tucked in your breast pocket. As your fingers grace the lining you find that one has magically appeared. Ha ha! This can’t be so bad. You take a swig, raise the bottle to your fellow riders. They look at you with a strange curiosity. Your body ever so slowly begins to evaporate. You look at your hand as it has all but gone. Your fate has been sealed. You wonder if your fellow passengers will make the same choice, fumbling for their form of poison to seal the deal after witnessing yours. After such a most uncanny occurrence you can bet your sore ass they’ll be right behind you, Bucko.
Somewhere between your first drink and the end of the bottle, you’ve left the elevator and now seem to be waiting outside some seedy back alley speakeasy. You’re next in line for your branding and then you’ll be lead to your permanent bar stool, your name etched in fire and brimstone. Plenty of your type of poison is eternally available. The only problem is, as you go further and further down the preverbal rabbit hole of drug and alcohol consumption, your soul is slowly sucked out of your ears and into Satan’s own special bottle. You’ll become your own sort of microbrew, one that’s never finished fermenting or ready to be served. You see, the bottle has a hole in it and it’s contents drain right into Hell’s very own sewer and left there to rot with all the other turds.
Lovely picture isn’t it? That’s about how it was for me. I made a choice, I had a bad feeling about it, but proceeded full on anyway and ended up in Hell. I sat there for awhile, took advantage of all the libations it had to offer, then eventually came to and tried to figure a way out.
There you have it. There will be more bones to be thrown at a later date, most likely.
Buy Hi, Have You Met Me? on Amazon today! http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B009W1M
Check out the blog on it's home site @
www.hihaveyoumetme.com for previous writings and more.
Don’t forget to stalk me further at https://twitter.com/#!/hihaveyoumetme orhttp://www.facebook.com/authorkatemonahan