When I read this piece last year called “Bloodlines: A History of the Modern Vampyre”, I was more than shocked to find that the author was seventeen years old. There is an esoteric knowledge behind his style, and you can tell that he knows his subject matter inside and out. Not only that, but I love how he keeps to the vampires of tradition. I enjoyed reading it so much that I asked Todd Crawford if I could repost it, and he kindly granted me permission to do so. If you enjoy this piece, be sure to like his Facebook page.
It can be found on the blog of Dan Dillard, Demon Author, where it was originally published.
(The following is reposted with Todd Crawford’s permission.)
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Bloodlines: A History of the Modern Vampyre by Todd Crawford
“The vampire cult is the last and most damnable step in [the] exploration of Satanism”. William Schnoebelen
Mankind has always had a fascination with the morbid side of his own subconscious, a temptation luring his mind to probe the graves of his deepest thoughts in the half-hearted attempts of a child to rouse some unsettled demons that may lie there like a ghost inside the local haunted house waiting for a vain child to come knocking on its rickety doorstep. Just as Horror as a genre has become a staple of pop culture, spawning all types from Stephen King to the Two Cory’s and Dan Dillard, the self proclaimed “Demon Author” and myself, but just as deep a staple in the modern culture of cinema, literature, and song as the domain from which its title belongs, the fangs of vampires are as firmly planted. Never can one scan the shelves of Wal-Mart’s already-cluttered magazine and literature aisles without finding themselves immersed in the glittering undead. Rarely does one browse the internet without being plagued by the pale face of Edward Cullen, looking fresh off the set of Tim Burton’s abysmal adaptation of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Only, this isn’t the latest lackluster Burton outing, this has become one of the most prominent figures of our times, and one can only ask themselves “What happened?” What has happened to audiences today? What has become of our beloved Hollywood studios (well, beloved may not be too accurate) and the publishing houses we once trusted? (Okay, trusted is definitely an exaggeration.) Well, that is why I, Todd Crawford, am here to tell you exactly what has become of the traditional vampire mythologies, and why it may be too soon to throw the curtains open and cast away all thoughts of successful future vampire endeavors.
Bram Stoker, (in)famous for writing the masterwork Dracula, is often cited as the pioneer of the vampire genre, but although his classic novel undeniably brought attention to the vampire in the mainstream eye through its pages and countless film adaptations the legends of the undead rising to drain the living of their blood and virginity had long before existed. Every society has had its share of deities and devils explaining that which science could not, from the Romans and Greeks to modern-day Christ. The most common relation to vampires was real-life illnesses that plagued civilizations before health care was as advanced as it has become today. Tuberculosis is the guiltiest by association, sporting symptoms that could invoke the most damnable offenders of the underworld in the uneducated minds of the Victorian-era population. The pale discoloration of the ill’s flesh, and sensitivity to the light by their swollen, reddish eyes was certainly questionable. The weak heartbeat and rapidly declining temperatures then, were alarming, but not nearly as undeniably supernatural as the coughing up blood, which in the old ages could only mean one thing: the vampire-in-question had previously consumed the blood of others. How else could one explain the spreading illness of those who shared a household with the sickly? Well, back then that seemed like a much more logical answer than Tuberculosis having been a contagious and fatal disease. A similar ailment of the times, known as Porphyria, a unique brand of hemophilia which causes those under its spell to suffer from receding gums and lips, gave the illusion of fangs to become more and more apparent as the sickness infects its host. There has been one recorded case of one inflicted from Porphyria’s condition to actually heal with the digestion of external blood, which replaced the lack thereof in their own system. The now-primitive medical standards of the times had caused for subjects of both disorders to have been prematurely buried, resulting in cases of the dead appearing to rise from the grave once the buried are roused from their not-so-eternal slumber. Another debatable source of the vampire’s rise is the defilement of the Christian religion. The first ever recorded mention of a vampire was in fact from a Babylonian prayer! To quote Nick Kushner, “The Vampire in one regard is an inversion of the mythology of Christ. Both entities rise from the dead but as Christ offers his body and blood for his disciples to feast upon in communion with him, the vampire as contrary to this, devours the flesh and blood of his victims in order to make them one with him.” As a fellow author, and also a self-proclaimed wordsmith it comes across as a degradation to one’s ego to admit another superior in conveying a message, but sometimes, as is the case in this study, it’s better to appreciate a quote of such perfection rather than lamely attempt (and fail) to imitate it.
Now what did Stoker bring to the table? First of all, a modern (at the time of its release) update on the Forbidden Fruit connotations The Bible had established in the Book of Genesis. If one considers Jonathan Harker and Mina as the proverbial Adam and Eve’s of the tale, and Dracula the serpentine agent of Satan tempting them not with eternal knowledge, but eternal life in immortality. Stoker’s interpretation of the vampire was already decked in the style of the modern vampire, as a seductive and decadent figure. The Count Dracula resides in the golgothic estate of a Victorian (well, of modern architectural design for the time of its writing) mansion, which some have speculated to be a phallic symbol of itself. It should be explained, without any further ado, that during the Victorian Era, sexual repression was at a high due to cultural and religious contradictions, and it took an unholy being to indulge in such “Satanic” (or human, but that’s a Blog for another day) practices. The homoerotic undertones of biting another man on the neck would have more men sleeping with stakes at their bedsides than eternal damnation on Earth. The act of submitting to a superior being than a human, (I can hear Tony Todd purring as Candyman “Be my victim…” as I type this) has its Freudian connotations, as well as the oral gratifications of fangs as phallic symbols. To further this Freudian psychology, it has been said that the image of the vampire withdrawing in the daylight to its tomb to be allegoric for the rejection of society and symbolic of crawling back into the mother’s womb. The triumph of a human ritualistically slaying the vampire being that of an Oedipal nature. (Kimberly, 40,41) After being stalked and bitten by a vampire, the women he pursued (notably soon-to-be-wives) forfeit their innocence in favor of sexual dominance over their male peers. Although Stoker’s Dracula was not the first effort to bring the dead to life, the popularity of his novel ushered in literally countless vampire novels, films, and both film adaptations and unofficial sequels to his own book. (The latest deemed an “official” sequel, being that of Stoker’s own great grand-nephew, Draco Stoker.)
In the 70’s and 80’s, a new breed of vampire was born. Rising star and current voice of Horror, Stephen King, his own interpretation of the bloodsucking mythologies in a novel called Salem’s Lot, which would go on to be adapted into a television miniseries by Texas Chainsaw-director, Tobe Hooper. Clive Barker, introduced to the mainstream by King himself, offered his own unique vision of the undead in the sixth and final Book of Blood in his debut series of short horror fiction, Cabal. Barker later went on to direct a film version of the tale under the title Nightbreed. Anne Rice was also gaining popularity in the literary world with her vampire-oriented Lestat series, before renouncing the undead late in her career and becoming an evangelical novelist. On the silver screen is where the modern vampire really began to take its form with outings such as the cult hits Lost Boys, Fright Night, and Near Dark. Each of the films demonstrated the traditional portraits of the undead, but rather than an unholy state of being haunting the foreskin of the Earth, the vampires were plagued with addiction as blood junkies. The faces of this new generation of the undead were depicted as alarmingly human in stark contrast with their more demonic predecessors, and a newfound edge was given to the then-old traditions of the parable.
It was not until the 90’s and New Millennium that the final stake in the proverbial coffin of the traditional vampire is driven home with action and romance shit-oriented films such as Underworld and Twilight. Vampires have become something to aspire to, the Forbidden Fruit traded in exchange for baseball bats and the Book of Mormon. (And I don’t mean tickets to South Park-creators Matt Stone and Trey Parker’s controversial play!) Vampires have become followers of the religions and victims of the sexual repression they were created to defy, and in this juxtaposition their nature is demystified, leaving the purpose of their existence unfulfilled and hollow. Not all has been lost in the cycle of the vampire, drawn and complete, as demonstrated in such films as Let The Right One In based on the “awe”-and gag-inducing novel by John Ajvide Lindqvist (Try pronouncing that one!) or The Thirst by Oldboy director Park Chan Wook. Although the present day may seem bleak for vampires and fans of the undead alike, the future is looking continuously more promising as the pretentiously-dubbed Twilight Saga draws to an end and the Dawn of the Vampire is fading to black. After all, it is nightfall when the vampires are at their best.
M-O-M by Joslyn Corvis
Everyone has a best childhood friend. Tiffany was mine. We used to do all the typical little girl things together. Tea parties, sleepovers, and playing silly kid games.
We’d usually end up at my house. I had the feeling that her dad didn’t like having kids over. And I kinda got the feeling that he didn’t really like having Tiffany around, either. I never asked and never really saw anything for myself, but his kindness seemed forced to me. He seemed to act a bit sharp and cold toward her. I don’t think he was physically abusive, but it seemed as if she were almost afraid of him.
Inevitably, we got older and grew apart as most friends do. At the so-very mature age of twelve I started hanging out with the popular kids. I would invite Tiffany to hang out with us, but she was so awkward and just hung in the background. When I’d walk off with my new friends she’d just stand there. I told myself that it wasn’t my fault. It was hers. Why was she so weird? How was I supposed to fix that? We were at that point where we would just greet each other in passing until we stopped any sort of acknowledgement of each other at all. I don’t know about her, but I would go out of my way to look the other direction. I’m really not sure why. Maybe by that time I’d become more concerned about my own reputation.
A turning point in our relationship came during my senior year of high school. I was to graduate in December at the age of seventeen and couldn’t wait. Everyone was always asking me about jobs, college, career choices. I was enjoying the attention. And in all of my own social and academic success, I’d totally forgotten about Tiffany.
I remember it was in October, two months before graduation. Someone called me on the phone, but I didn’t recognize the shaky voice. “Is this Morgan?” asked the caller.
“Yeah, it is.” Silence on the other end. Curiosity consumed me and I listened closely, waiting for someone to say something. Seeing how the caller went quiet, I spoke. “Who’s this?”
“Tiffany. Shankley. Remember me?”
“Oh, right. Right. How have you been?” I was trying to sound genuine, but I really didn’t care. I knew perfectly well how she’d been. She started dressing in black and hanging out with those weird kids. In my mind I kept thinking of what I would tell my friends, and how we would joke that I’m lucky she didn’t call me up to lure me to her house as a human sacrifice. Then we’d all laugh.
“Been okay. How about you?”
I started to tell her about all the wonderful things that were happening in my life and what the future held in store for me. We chatted for a while and something inside me sparked. I was reminded of old times. Things had once been so great between us! What went wrong, I wondered, shamefully arriving at the answer. It was me. I went wrong with Tiffany. She wasn’t that bad, just shy. Even though we weren’t friends, I didn’t have to laugh when people made fun of her. I could hear my voice trail off as I became lost in thought. She took my pause as an opportunity to speak.
“I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out for a bit tonight. Just catch up on old times,” she asked. “I’d heard you were going to graduate soon and figured you’d be busy after that. So,” she paused, seeming unsure of what to say. “I thought it might be my last chance to get ahold of you.”
Thinking it over, I decided to go. Things seemed as if they hadn’t really changed much over the phone, so why would anything be different in person? I walked the short distance to her house. Her house was on a back street, kind of secluded, but I still knew the way.
I stood in front of her house, motionless. Since it was October, I couldn’t help but think of how appropriate the scene looked. She sat on the front stoop, dressed all in black with her elbows on her knees and her head resting in her clasped hands. She looked so pale, enhanced by the black makeup around her eyes.
“Uh, Hi,” I said. “So, what do you wanna do?”
Her face lit up. “Hi!” she squealed. “Come in!”
As she held the ratty screen door open for me, I cautiously entered, remembering how intrusive I used to feel at her house. I stepped as if I were walking on eggshells as I entered. It was almost as if she’d read my mind.
“My dad died a couple years back,” she said without emotion.
“I’m so sorry!” I stammered, wanting to ask why but holding my tongue. She just shrugged, making an, “Eh,” sound.
Her room was nothing like I’d remembered. Pentagrams and skulls. Weird stuff everywhere. Everything was black. A far cry from how I remembered it: The pink “Little Princess” bedspread and the dolls scattered on the floor.
She sat on her bed and beckoned me to sit next to her. It felt as forced as her father’s smile, but pretty soon we were chatting like crazy! She really wasn’t that different from my other friends. The ones I’d abandoned her for.
All the topics were covered—Boys, clothes, and even some gossip. We did each other’s hair and nails and when the clock struck midnight, we realized how hungry we were so we went to the kitchen. After snacking and goofing around, we passed by the clock in the hall back to her room. It was 12:30. On the dot. We sat back down on the bed and I was about to thank her for having me over, but I didn’t get the chance. She jumped up without warning and crouched by the bed, pulling something out from underneath.
“Wanna play?” she asked with a strange grin, holding a folded board game in her hand.
I think I nodded, a little nervous. I knew this wasn’t going to be Candy Land. Either way, she pushed a narrow table in front of her bedroom door, exerting minimal force, and put a black cloth on top. After strategically arranging a few black candles on top of the table, which she lit, she sat on the floor in front of me and opened the board game, revealing it to be a Ouija board.
“My mom is working until two in the morning so we’ll have plenty of time. She freaks out about this stuff, you know how moms are. Oh, one more thing!” she said, jumping up and hitting the lights. She was like a ball of energy, a side of her I hadn’t seen in years. I think I’d come to view her as nothing more than a stick in the mud.
We sat there and I followed her lead having seen a million movies with these things. I gently put my fingertips on the triangle, or whatever it was called, as she closed her eyes. “Who are you?” she asked.
Nothing happened. We focused some more. “Who are you?” she repeated. And then the triangle jittered, but only slightly. I wondered if she was moving it to scare me. But then it started to move as if it had a mind of its own. Her eyes popped open and she stared at the board as if in a trance. We said each letter together as the little window of the triangle hit upon them.
And then it stopped. We looked at each other with puzzled expressions. Suddenly there were footsteps in the hall. “Tiffany,” called her mother’s voice. I hadn’t heard it in years, but I’d never forget how pleasant her mother’s voice always sounded. “What are you doing, Tiffany?”
I didn’t have time to think rationally as I was afraid of getting caught, but why would her mom bother her in the middle of the night? The room was dark, unless she saw the glow of the candles from outside. My main concern that her mom would tell my mom, and that everyone at school would make fun of me.
There was a strong burst at the door that tipped the table over. The candles quickly caught the black fabric on fire. I saw a glimpse of her mother in the doorway which was open at least a foot. Tiffany and I glanced at each other and made a break for the window. I pushed the screen out thinking she was behind me still, but then I heard her mother’s voice. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Tiffany had run back to save her mother, trying to get through the flames to open the door. I thought her mom would have been long gone by that time, but she stood there doing nothing as Tiffany continue to battle through the fire.
“Tiffany!” I screamed. “Let’s go! Your mom has time to get out through the front door!” Neither of them answered, and Tiffany’s mom just stood there, oblivious to the smoke. Oblivious to Tiffany. I ran back and tried to drag Tiffany away. “Come on!” I yelled, choking on my words and the smoke. But she wouldn’t budge.
I ran to the window once again and looked back, but she was still trying to get to her mother. It was hopeless for me to even try. If the flames hadn’t been licking at her hands she could have just easily opened the door which would have pushed the table out of the way, but the fire was growing. I had to save myself.
I struggled to get through the window and rolled out to safety. Frantically dialing 9-1-1, I could see that the fire was starting to get bigger from the golden blaze from within. Smoke flooded through the open window and I was crying as the dispatcher asked for my location. Could she understand me, I wondered?
Screams started to fill my ears. By that time I don’t think I could even speak. I was a mess, gagging on my words as the dispatcher tried to keep me calm. I could swear I saw Tiffany twirling around in flames, but I still wonder if that horrible image was in my imagination. It’s the only way I can cope with that night, to try to erase it all from my memory. A few years have passed, and I wonder if I’ll ever forget.
And then the screams from within stopped as my own became louder. Suddenly I was being enveloped by two dark figures who pulled me away and I heard a staticy voice, but couldn’t make out what it was saying. I thrashed around in a panic and looked up, seeing a police car parked in the street, the staticy voice coming from one of their radios. I screamed that my friend and her mother were still inside, finally finding my voice. Everything after that was pretty much a blur.
The fire was finally out. It was all over. I sat in a daze of silent shock wrapped in a blanket as a firefighter came to tell me what I already knew. I didn’t cry. At least not then. I was too numb. They asked me repeatedly about Tiffany’s mother being inside and I kept telling them I was sure of it, though not in so many words. It was still hard to talk.
I thought the police had come in response to my call, but as I later found out, they were there to talk to Tiffany. Her mother had left work early that night, and some time around midnight while on her way home, she had been killed in a car accident.
I’m here with Jeff Patrick, scribe of the e-tome Funeral Feast of The Dark Angel Chronicles, to chat about the book. I have been waiting for this opportunity for such a long time, and now that it’s here I can hardly contain my enthusiasm.
You can listen to another version of this interview on youtube:
JC: Just from reading Funeral Feast, I can tell that The The Dark Angel Chronicles will be an enjoyable series while maintaining a certain amount of complexity, something that might appeal to comic book lovers. You want to keep reading to find out what happens, and hope that a future book will go into more detail about Michael’s past and how he came to be. It’s obvious that this wasn’t written overnight. How long had you been rolling the idea around before you started to actually write it?
JP: Well, the idea just came to me way back in the summer of ’93. I’d been wrestling with a bout of writer’s block for about a year, and I’d just seen the obscure Rutger Hauer film Split Second, in which he played a gun-toting detective in black leather who was investigating some grisly murders that turned out to be the work of some sort of demon. I thought it might be cool to have sort of a mercenary type character in that vein, who hunted down and destroyed classic supernatural creatures like vampires, werewolves, and zombies, with nothing more than his wits, skills and blazing guns. I kicked the concept around for really the better part of two years, until finally, on Labor Day 1995, I put pen to paper and started on the first tale chronicling Michael, ‘The Scarlet Kiss.’ Yes, it involved vampires (laughs).
JC: Now since Funeral Feast is the first book out there in the series and involved zombies, I’m assuming ‘The Scarlet Kiss’ is archived. Will we ever see that book on the market, or a variation of this story?
JP: No, it was actually quite terrible, in my opinion (laughs). Moreover, so much has changed since those first stories, most notably there was something of a ‘secret identity’ element, where Michael lived in a mansion by day and assumed the guise of the ‘Dark Angel’ by night…sort of a Batman/Bruce Wayne duality. I’ve long since abandoned that aspect, and made his mantle of the Dark Angel more of a title than an alter ego…now he’s pretty much a badass monster hunter 24/7. However, I will do a ‘re-do’ of Scarlet Kiss sometime in the not-too-distant future.
JC: Can’t wait for that one! Now, I love Paladin. Everything about him from his name to his physical description. Was he in the first books, and what was your inspiration for this character?
JP: Oh yeah, Paladin’s been part of the series from the start. As for the inspiration…well, I’ve always been fascinated by wolves for one thing. Timber, the wolf companion of Snake Eyes, my favorite character from the classic G.I.Joe series, was likely another. Oh, and probably most importantly, the old Slavic legend, that despite what you see in the Dracula films, wolves, especially white wolves, were the natural enemies of vampires. They were believed to prowl graveyards at night and devour the undead if they rose from their graves.
JC: Interesting concept! Do you use a lot of supernatural beliefs to base certain aspects of the story upon, or do you like to use a mixture of things such as monster movies from the mainstream?
JP: A good question, actually. I suppose for more traditional monsters, like vampires, werewolves, and zombies, it’s a mixture of folklore and material from mainstream horror films. My vampires are most comparable to those from the classic Hammer Studios films and the original Fright Night (1985), my werewolves most similar to those seen in the original Howling (with touches of American Werewolf in London), and my zombies are most based on the old Italian zombie films of the ’70s and ’80s, especially those of Lucio Fulci.
JC: A fellow Fulci fan! Did these films have some impact on your desire to become a writer?JP: Actually, no. I didn’t really discover those films until years later as a young adult. It was the classic horror monster films from Universal and Hammer involving Dracula, Werewolf, Frankenstein, etc. that had the most impact…as well as the monster comics published by Marvel in the ’70s like Tomb of Dracula, Werewolf By Night, Man-Thing, and Tales of the Zombie.
JC: What sort of style and atmosphere do you hope to project with this series?
JP: Well, for atmosphere, something of a ‘neo-gothic’ backdrop, much like the backdrops of films such as Blade Runner or The Crow, as well as the oil painting covers of Marvel’s black-and -white magazines from the ’70s. As for style…well, my other major passion besides classic/gothic horror is hard-rock/heavy metal music. Let’s face it, Michael would look just as much at home rocking out on stage with Black Sabbath or Type O Negative as he would hunting the undead in a corrupted graveyard (laughs.) So, what I try to create in the mind of the reader is a dissemination of imagery of what you might find on heavy metal album covers, kind of like what would be on those mirrors I’d win as prizes at carnivals, or see airbrushed on vans all over the country. And I hope that through my meager writing talents I’m able to evoke such imagery.
JC: So we can pretty much bet if it’s ever on the big screen and you get to pick the soundtrack it’s going to be pretty kick-ass! Do you listen to music when you’re writing, or perhaps have other little rituals to get into what I call…”The Zone”?
JP: Yes, I do often listen to music when writing, typically of the metal/goth/industrial persuasion. Usual choices include Rob Zombie, Type O Negative, Danzig, Pantera, Slayer, Alice Cooper, Lacuna Coil, and Children of Bodom, among many others. However, I also listen to a radio program every Saturday night/Sunday morning on NPR called Echoes, which showcases a variety ambient, goth, and electronica that helps inspire my work. If I get tired of listening to music, I’ll pop in a horror film, usually one relevant to the story (i.e. a zombie film if I’m writing a zombie story.) It all helps contribute to the ‘goth-metal-horror’ aesthetic that I strive to create.
JC: A lot more is usually expected out of a first in order to set the characters and the tone for the rest of the series. Did you find it to be more stressful or difficult to write this one compared to writing the others?
JP: Not at all, because this actually wasn’t the first story in this series I wrote (laughs). I’d written several previously, but most of my stories are pretty self-contained. I chose to publish this one first because it’s one of my more popular pieces, plus an excellent introduction to new readers as it fast-paced and action-packed with the usual hallmarks: the grim and gritty death dealer, a provocative, nubile damsel in distress, scary monsters (in this case, zombies), and lots of blood and guts. Really, what’s not to love? (laughs)
JC: What is your main goal with The Dark Angel Chronicles? Do you want people to focus on the horror, the storyline, or the sheer bad-assery that is The Dark Angel?
JP: I suppose the main goal would be to restore interest in traditional gothic, supernatural horror, something desperately needed in this age of Twilight. Ideally, I’d want readers to enjoy everything the series has to offer. But if I really had to choose something, it would probably Michael’s sheer bad-assery. (laughs)
JC: (laughs) That’s what really struck me about this book. Michael just oozes cool. Now this is a question I ask most people simply because it’s something I genuinely want to know on a personal level. There are people who take zombies very seriously nowadays, so much that they’re dropping tons of cash on custom zombie-proof houses and I believe it’s in Maryland where they’re even preparing for an outbreak. Do you really believe in the Zombie Apocalypse, or do you think it’s overrated?
JP: Well, my vivid imagination prevents me from discounting the possibility altogether, but I do think the whole thing has been blown way out of proportion. Moreover, I feel the ‘zombie apocalypse’ in fiction and film has been done to death, no pun intended.
JC: If a Z-War were to happen, what would be your weapon of choice?
JP: I’ve mused on that and decided that I’d probably take a page from Hobo With A Shotgun and bind a sawed-off shotgun to an ax with duct tape. For back-up, I’d carry my brushed steel Colt Combat Commander (.45 ACP), a gift from my father, and my collection of knives.
JC: Excellent choices! Now, before I let you go, could you tell me what you would like to see happen with The Dark Angel Chronicles?
JP: I’d undoubtedly love to see it branch out into other forms of media. Most people seem to agree that it’s tailor-made for a comic book/graphic novel format. My ultimate goal is an animated series, in a style similar to the 1981 Heavy Metal film…animation would be better suited to Michael’s gothic, spooky world. I’m less enthused about the idea of a live-action film or series, unless it was an independently produced with old-school monster make-up and animatronic FX. I wouldn’t trust Hollywood with it…I’m somewhat lukewarm to CGI effects, and they’d probably want to cast Ashton Kutcher as Michael. (laughs)
JC: Casting Kutcher would have Dark Angel fans everywhere engaging in mass protest! (laughs) So, what projects can we expect to see from you in the near future.
JP: Well, I hope to have my first collection of short stories about Michael out by the end of this year, if I can find an affordable cover artist soon enough. There’s enough stories for two or three volumes at least. Then there’s a novella involving him taking on a coven of gothic vampire chicks, a novella with him fighting zombies on cemetery island currently in production, and two more in the planning stages involving a ‘carnival of evil’ and werewolves. Then more will follow. (laughs)
This is now an eBook, available on smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/582432
Thanks for checking it out! 🙂