This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. A signed paperback copy of DISEASE and a prize package courtesy of LeglessCorpse.com. Prize package includes: 1 DVD of the movie "Mine Games" , 1 DVD of "The Dead Walking" - 10 full-length zombie movies, as well as 11x14 exclusive Leglesscorpse Bunnyman print. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
As an author it’s my job to create worlds around the reader that are so believable and interesting they can’t help but find themselves immersed. When writing DISEASE I had to not only describe the dangerous, post-apocalyptic world my characters inhabit, but I also had to make sure that the reader could feel just how horrifying and desperate that world is. That was a lot of fun for me, and not as hard as it seems, which is why I found it odd that I balked at the thought of describing my own world, my own workspace. Why? Because it’s about as far removed from the type of scenes I like to write as I thought it could get, but I was wrong.
As I type this the house sits eerily quiet. I am not alone, but rather, the only one still awake. Even the dog is in her bed, tucked away from the cold glow of my laptop. The click clacking of my keyboard does nothing to mask creaks and groans of the settling foundation, and as the wind picks up outside I hear the copper wind chimes transform angry bursts into music.
It’s chilly outside, actually down right cold, and the fog rolling in off the harbor seems to hold the chill near. It slowly coats everything, blanketing the view of the darkened park, just across the street. A lonely tree, stripped of its leaves and bearing the scars of hard winters past, watches over the small slide and empty swings that sway with each brisk gust. If I were outside I could smell the saltwater in the air that is occasionally tinged with the diesel fumes from passing container ships.
The ships slide slowly by one another in the harbor, behemoth shadows, reminiscent of the prehistoric monsters that once roamed this earth. They call out to each other. Long, mournful cries, that echo for miles around. It’s almost as if they can feel the countless scores of their sisters that have been lost at sea.
Funnily, I find their songs, however somber in tone, comforting as I stretch my legs out across the glass top of my coffee table. The coffee table that my better half and I purchased years ago, when we were just dating. Now it is smudged with the dirty fingerprints of a belligerent toddler and specked with flecks of cracker dust. A dog hair floats off my foot and settles among the carnage. It’s an ongoing war. I clean, they destroy. I clean, they destroy. I have yet to win a battle.
While I may wish to pen my words in a private office lined with walls of books and outfitted with fine leather furniture, I’m just as happy wiping a smudge from my laptop screen. The smudge deposited by the same dirty fingers that attacked the tabletop earlier today. Life is chaotic and my workspace isn’t mine at all, but life is good, especially when I can carve out the time to write.
Enjoy an excerpt:
“Is this what you want? A society where anyone can disappear without a trace?”
“Without a trace? I think not, Aaron. You are to be an example. A strict warning to those who wish to sow discontent and spread lies. To those who threaten what I have worked so hard to build. You will serve as the poster child for those who would strike the hand that feeds them.”
“You’ve strayed from your own teachings, Lot! What you’re building here is an abomination! You’re more concerned with being Queen for a Day than—”
“Can you hear yourself? I have saved the life of each and every person under my roof. What have you done? Become a thug – a terrorist. Death will be my greatest gift to you.”
Aaron’s head drops. His face softens. He closes his wet eyes. He breaks, snaps like a twig. They always break when facing their inescapable mortality.
Lot’s mind turns to brave men. False men on a Hollywood movie screen, facing down death with a jaw of steel. Standing with bared chest thrust valiantly forward, ready to take the sword. The television screen flickers, a smile flashes across celebrity lips. Beaming defiantly with the knowledge that he faces a good death, a meaningful death.
But it’s just acting. Life rarely follows that script.
A smile of triumph lights upon Lot’s lips. She presses them together, concealing it just a little too late. Perhaps she let it slip purposefully. This is a war, and they must all go out groveling. There will be no martyrs made on her watch.
About the Author:
As an adult M.F. Wahl spends as much time writing as possible. Days are spent funneling creative energies into penning dark tales. Nights are spent watching horror movies and TV curled under a blanket with the family. At the end of the day when eyes finally close other people’s nightmares are fuel for M.F. Wahl’s dreams.
DISEASE is a serialized novel and is M.F. Wahl’s debut. Currently it’s available for purchase on Amazon, iBooks, KOBO, Smashwords, and more. The paperback is slated to be released just is time for Halloween, and an audiobook is in the works as well.
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