Presents for One and All
Showing posts with label Creepy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Creepy. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Sample 3: Six-guns and Slay Bells: A Creepy Cowboy Christmas
Western Fictioneers presents a sample of a James Reasoner's story in Six-Guns and Slay Bells: A Creepy Cowboy Christmas
JAMES REASONER, a lifelong Texan, has been a professional writer for more than thirty years. In that time, he has authored several hundred novels and short stories in numerous genres. Best known for his Westerns, historical novels, and war novels, he is also the author of two mystery novels that have achieved cult classic status, Texas Wind and Dust Devils. Writing under his own name and various pseudonyms, his novels have garnered praise from Publishers Weekly, Booklist, and the Los Angeles Times, as well as appearing on the New York Times and USA Today bestseller lists. He lives in a small town in Texas with his wife, award-winning fellow author Livia J. Washburn. www.jamesreasoner.com.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Sample 2: Six-guns and Slay Bells: A Creepy Cowboy Christmas
LARRY D. SWEAZY won the WWA
Spur Award for Best Short Fiction in 2005, won the Will
Rogers Medallion Award for Western Fiction 2011 and 2012, and was nominated for a SFMS Derringer award in
2007. He has published over 50 articles and short stories, which have appeared
in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine;
The Adventure of the Missing Detective; Boys’ Life; Hardboiled, and other
publications and anthologies. Larry is the author of the Josiah Wolfe, Texas Ranger series
(Berkley). He is a member of MWA (Mystery Writers of America), WWA (Western
Writers of America), and WF (Western Fictioneers). Larry lives in the Midwest,
with his wife, Rose, two dogs, and a cat.
The
flames had died down, leaving only the glowing orange coals to give off any heat.
Neither man noticed; they were fast asleep after a long journey. But the wolves
noticed. They could smell the meat of a fresh kill, see the white-tailed deer strung
up from a gangly cottonwood by its hooves, left, oddly, to bleed out overnight.
The
alpha, a stoic gray wolf, his fur dotted with more than a fair share of scars, padded
around the perimeter of the makeshift camp as softly as he could. The deer felt
like bait left out to draw in the pack. Something wasn’t right. The behavior of
the humans was unusual—or the alpha assumed they were stupid. Unaware of the way
of the world beyond the fire.
The
rest of the pack stood in wait, just beyond the shadows, listening for the grunts
and growls that would command them into action.
The
deer was easy pickings for a pack this size, bound and hung like it was, the hard
work of the kill already done for them. There were twelve wolves in all, most of
them hungry—but not starving. The pack was glad to see, and feel, the depths of
winter, when the hunting was easier. The sick and tired were less of a challenge,
less trouble to bring down. Especially the bison, weak, and caught knee-deep in
snow. The snow season was more bountiful, but some of the pack still longed for
the long days of summer when the sun offered more time to play—and kill.
There
was snow on the ground, but not so much that it was difficult to walk. The leaves
had turned to gold on the aspens and fallen to the ground, urging the elk to move
to higher ground, off the moraine, more than two moons ago. The bison had begun
to move, too, albeit slowly, gobbling at what tender roots they could find under
the snow. All in the world was right, progressing along the way as it should. Except
for the presence of the humans.
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