Stats don't lie. I had a record number of views on the 20th when I posted that creepy flash fiction. Go check it out if you haven't already. Judging by my web stats, however, you already have...though in my case, record numbers don't go over 60. 

I actually enjoy writing creepy passages, and think I do a pretty good job with it. Horror is not my forte', so I don't plan on going into that any time in the future, but I really like to rattle my readers' cages every now and again. If I can get you on the edge of your seat, I think I pass over this threshold where you aren't just reading a book, but interacting with it and becoming more involved with the text.

The first time I recall being really freaked out by a book I was just browsing the first few pages (and I don't recall the title). What I do recall is how flowing the narrative style was and how I was instantly drawn into this story. I remember being scared for what was going to happen next and simultaneously amazed that a book was scaring me. You have to actively read, after all. It's not like the book is going to jump out and get you. Yet, there you are, being drawn along into the story and getting totally freaked out along the way.

What an amazing medium! I'm going to have to rant on people acting like having a book made into a movie is some kind of ultimate compliment, or that film is a better medium than the written word...but not now.

I started some exploratory writing on a zombie book not too long ago. It weirded me out just writing it and I wasn't sure I could continue with it. Perhaps I'll post that introductory bit sometime?

That's all for now. Go read something good, you bunch of weirdos!

Here's a snippet from a book I'm working on

At sunset, Valla reclined on his elbow in the glass pebble bank of Mirrel Lake, watching as a crew worked at a boat crane to haul the sunken contraption out of the lake’s oily bottom. He just couldn’t help but smile and admire his handiwork.

Sylvi noticed the set of his jaw. “Proud of yourself?” she asked, shifting her own jaw into a grin that nearly matched Valla’s own. She bounced a clear pebble of his forehead and gave him a little shove.

He let out a small chuckle and picked up a black chunk of glass from the bank. He held it up in his fingertips to overlap Sylvi’s right eye. She had elected to keep the black irises she had been built with, but had gotten the rest of her eyes plated with gold when she turned sixteen. With the golden light of the setting sun reflecting from them, they were absolutely stunning.

“Your eyes look like gemstones,” said Valla quietly. It was a line he had read on a disk somewhere, but he really did mean it. From the way Sylvi’s innerlight glowed, it must have done the trick. She leaned in close, reaching out to stroke his cheek and dialed her eyes half closed. She was wearing her long blue hair today; it cascaded over her shoulder struts in a sparkling flow, a reflection of the shining lake behind her. Valla loved the way it framed her polished brass cheeks and the way she idly pushed it away from her eyes. She was truly beautiful, without even trying.

He dropped the stone back to the sand and reached out to run his hand through her shimmering hair. No matter how many criminals he arrested or how many promotions he received, it seemed less significant than what Sylvi thought of him. He wanted to tell her so, but she put a finger to his mouth before he could speak. As she leaned in close to him, he could feel a static charge building up between them. Just as she was about to share a spark with him, a claxon on a post right over their heads blasted out three alarms, ruining the moment. It wasn’t going to be their first kiss, but it was certainly going to be special. Not anymore.

“A Grand Assembly will be held tonight in the Great Hall at High Moon,” the announcer said. “All non-essential personnel are required to attend. Repeating.”

Sylvi sat up from the beach and wrapped her arms around her knees, but Valla fell back, his mood going from sky-high to the pits in an instant. “I guess you’re going to have to be there,” she said quietly.

He slapped a hand to his face and muttered “yes” through his fingers.

“All dressed out in your uniform?” she asked, tapping his life lamp with her fingertip. Valla moved his hand away and looked up at her. She was grinning shyly.

“Oh yes. Dressed and polished,” he said, smiling back. Sylvi was a sucker for a man in a uniform. Well, for him in a uniform anyway.

“Good!” she said and leaned down to let a small spark pass between them before jumping to her feet and dashing away. “I’ll sit up close!” she shouted as she vanished down the shoreline.

I've been thinking about super powers. How the heck do you end up able to shoot ice out of your hands and not somewhere stupid like from the corner of your right eye?

Brad plunged his arm into the back of the metal shelf to pull up boxes of popcorn, lining them up on the shelf. "Blocking" they called it.
Absent-mindedly, he noted that it was on sale, but he knew the price was crap either way. As he grabbed another box, the back of his hand brushed against something coarse and fibrous. He drew back instinctively, scratching his arm on a cardboard box.

"What the heck?" he said, shoving the boxes aside and peering in.

His voice caught in his throat as he sucked in a lungful of air, funding himself unable to scream. The dead eye looking back at him stared blankly at the back of the popcorn boxes. The mouth was wrenched into a permanent grimace. Suddenly, Brad found his voice again, screaming as he ran as fast as he could out of the supermarket.

He was shaking like a leaf and halfway across the parking lot before he caught hold of his senses again and went to get his manager, Donna. He was stammering incoherently, unable to make any sense, so he bit his trembling lip and dragged her by the arm to the popcorn aisle and got her to look into the back of the shelf.

"Brad, are you high?" she asked, irritated, when she got up again. "What am I looking at down here?"

In a flash, he bent over and shoved the boxes aside, knocking several to the floor. There, in the space where the head had once been, was nothing but a dust bunny. He felt woozy and let himself collapse into a slump against the shelf. Something was very wrong in this place.

He finally noticed the scratch on his arm and wiped the trickle of blood from it before rubbing his temples with his other hand. He didn't notice it, but Donna licked her lips and stared down greedily at him.

So, I got a couple of journal books and labeled them for each of the two stories I'm currently working on.

Today, I carried one around and made notes and sketches, which was actually quite handy.

I got a bunch of exploratory sketches done and I wrote out the main characters' profiles.

This is a helpful system for me since I have 3 different note and sketch books, as well as index cards, where I've got scattered notes and thoughts for different stories. You throw in my digital notes, and I'm pretty much a mess. At least this way, I can scribble and sketch till my heart's content, and keep all focused on one story, in one notebook.

There was once a young man
from a green, flowing land
who longed for the Kingdom of Frost

So, one night he got going
without anyone knowing
but once he got going, got lost

He came to a land
that was covered in sand
with ne'ery a drop to drink

So he lapped up the earth
quenching his thirst
which was worser than even you'd think

"I'll return to my home"
he cried out, all alone
"Back to my green, flowing land"

So he fashioned a boat
and he started to float
drifting away on the sand

From the bow of The Queen's Bounty, Anna Loquette clung to the rope railing and let the salt spray cover up her tears, cooling the welt on the side of her pale cheek. Behind her, the men were busy hauling on ropes, stowing supplies, and shouting replies to their captain, her husband, Andre' Loquette.

He had hit her again, this time for second-guessing him in front of the First Mate, even thought she really hadn't. She had only asked if going around the Cape of Good Hope was a good idea, considering the time of year. But he had taken offense, as he most often would.

She stared down through the ratlines, past the angelic bowsprit, and longed for the ocean to take her somewhere far away from Andre' and far away from this miserable merchant life. She'd be willing to stay at home in Royan and raise children like a good wife, if they had any children. She halfway thought that Andre' brought her along on his trips to shame her, and halfway thought it was to keep her from running off.

Anna certainly would run off, but to where? And with whom? It was no use. The sea life was to be her curse; the sun would bronze her skin in spite of her constant use of parasols on land and generally remaining indoors while at sea. She'd grow old and leathery and then maybe Andre' would decide he'd had enough of her and do away with her for good. It was so loud on the decks of the ship that none of the men would hear her if she cried. They never seemed to hear her when she screamed for help.

A single tear slipped from her chin and splashed onto her hand. She didn't feel it herself with the wind and the spray whipping at her, but the tear rolled off her hand and into the sea. Just below the churning waves, in the ripple of foam that was being plowed up by the schooner, the tear drifted ever lower, never merging with the seawater, to be caught up at last by a moss-covered hand.

Cutlu smiled, her black lips parting to reveal dagger-like teeth. She lifted the human tear and blew it away.  If her deal with the man came through, the woman would either throw herself into the sea or be thrown. The man seemed eager to be rid of her so he could have a new woman. Selfish human.

No matter, Cutlu didn't care how the air-breathers treated one another. Soon. Soon the woman would come falling through the waves and the sisters would have a new member of their clan.

HA! Like that's ever gonna happen. But, you can't very well BE a writer if you don't...write. Flash fiction - GO!
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Sandra let her ex-boyfriend's '87 Chevy C/K roll to a stop in the gravel, the fuel gauge on the beast having read a solid "E" for the last eight miles.

"Well. I guess this is about as middle of nowhere as we're gonna get," she said quietly to the bundle of blankets in the passenger seat. She stole a longing glance through the windshield up at the stars twinkling in the night sky, but there was no time to sit and soak it in. The cops would be there any minute.

Hopping down from the driver's seat, she hurried around to the passenger side and lifted the bundle, cradling it in her arms. It was cold outside. Cold enough to see her breath in front of her face and send shivers up her skinny bare legs. She was wearing her usual cutoff jeans and boots, dressed out for a night of line dancing, not a trek through the edge of the desert. She had wanted to get clean out into the Mojave before the fuel ran out, but no luck. This would just have to do.

The other thing she desperately wanted was to kiss Fidnik goodbye, but the little creature was sealed up inside his spherical cocoon, just a greenish furry blur, softly glowing inside a bubble. She slipped the blanket aside and kissed the warm basketball-sized form anyway before setting it down in the sand beside some scrub brush.

Off in the distance, she heard the first sound of sirens and could see the flashing lights glowing over a hill. She stepped away from Fidnik and wished him good luck. She had faith in the little guy, but had no idea what else she could do for him now. He had asked her to get him away, as far as she could, and she had done just that. Breaking into the sheriff's office, threatening an officer with a fake gun before handcuffing him to his desk, stealing a truck, causing at least two auto accidents; it would all be for nothing if she was too late or had done something wrong.

The sirens grew louder and the flashing lights brighter. Her heart skipped a beat as time ticked by and still nothing changed inside the cocoon. Just when she thought the worst had happened, the light inside the sphere grew bright and burst from the top, shooting skyward.

In an instant, the shell broke open, and the tiny alien shot skyward like a bolt of lightning. The blankets on the ground burst into flame and a spray of pebbles peppered Sandra in the face. There was a popping sound in the sky as he broke the sound barrier and vanished out of sight for good.

Sandra laughed out loud and let out the kind of yell that only a country girl can manage. Her best friend was gone, but he was safe now. Safe, and on his way home.

Kicking and screaming, I now have a Twitter account. You can follow me @BrandonLLittle

You can see how well I keep up with blogging. Expect the same with Tweeting, and be happy about it. So there. I'm a twit.