Showing posts with label Ghost Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ghost Story. Show all posts

Sunday, April 5, 2015

New Moxie Nixx Short Story

I Just Published My First Short Story

The "Soul Sketcher" is a young artist named Angelica Carbajal. When she draws people, she hears their thoughts. But it isn't always complaining about the boss or planning to go out for drinks. One morning, over coffee with her mother in a crowded bistro, Angelica hears something disturbing. 
  • How will she handle it? 
  • What will she do? 
  • What can she do? 

Find out more for just a buck. That's way less than a Iced Caramel Macchiato--and more chilling.

 "Soul Sketcher" is about 8 pages long. It will take you about about 15 minutes to read it, so it's perfect for lunch or a little light reading before bed--if you dare!

Click here to order from Amazon.com

PS
Want to be among the first to know when I release a new short story? Just enter your name in the "Follow by Email" box near the upper right corner of this blog. I'll be writing more short supernatural suspense stories soon. I'm working on them as little refreshers while I slave away on "Gold Wings are Murder--The Crying Stone." (I'm going to need a vacation after all this writing--maybe I'll go to Lake Lure and stay at the Blue Stone Inn.)

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Author Interview with James Lough

James Lough is the author of book This Ain't No Holiday Inn. It's sort of an oral history of the famous Chelsea Hotel in NYC. The Chelsea was renowned as an residence hotel that intentionally sought out and welcomed writers, singers, actors and other Bohemian types into a melting pot of crazy ideas and interesting companion.

Since every book in the Gold Wings are Murder series will be set at a hotel, inn or resort, I thought it would be a good idea to ask Lough about one of the most famous hotels in American history. Here is what he had to say.

Question: In my mystery novel Gold Wings are Murder, the heroes are bikers who ride around the country and every place they stay seems to be haunted. What famous resident would be loath to leave the Chelsea Hotel, even in death?

Answer: Many famous residents were loath to leave the Chelsea, living or dead. It was cheap and artist-friendly! But I would say Nancy Spungeon, ex-girlfriend of Sid Vicious, has probably stuck around. She was murdered there and probably has some scores to settle. Resident Paul Volmer said his girlfriend took some LSD and he found her chatting away, alone, in the hallway to some unknown presence.

"Who are you talking to," Paul said, as he gingerly took her by the elbow.

"Oh, Nancy," she said.

Q. Bohemian means someone from Bohemia (Czechoslovakia), but it also means gypsy, Romani or socially unconventional artist, actor or anarchist. Where do all the Bohemian's live today?

A. Bohemians aren't gone, but, sadly, they're an endangered species. Especially in big vibrant US cities like New York and San Francisco, which both have rich Bohemian histories, but are far too expensive for real Bohemians to live in cold water flats, enjoy the street life, the multiple cultures, and the camaraderie and mentorship of other artists. Some say we can get that on the web, but it's only a pale imitation of the real thing.

Q. If the ghosts of novelist Thomas Wolfe, humorist Mark Twain, actress Sarah Bernhard and musician Dee Dee Ramone (all one time residents of the Chelsea Hotel) sat down for spectral dinner, what would they talk about?

A. If Mark Twain, Sarah Bernhard, Thomas Wolfe, and Dee Dee Ramone sat down for a spectral dinner, they'd probably first talk about how much--or how little--rent they paid! Then they'd go on to the ghastly gap between rich and poor in the nation. They'd ask Sarah how it was to sleep in her casket under that glass pyramid built above her penthouse suite. Dee Dee would probably ask if he could lie in there with her. Wolfe would scold Dee Dee for making such a rude request, and then Wolfe would ask her for the same favor. Twain would sit back, light his cigar, his eyes gleaming with wicked mirth. Then they'd have dessert.

Q. You are designing your very own residential hotel. What does it look like, where would you put it, and who would you let live there for free--if they only would?

A. My utopian residential hotel would be in Las Truchas, New Mexico, where the spirits are thick. I would reserve permanent rooms for David Bowie and the ghosts of Emily Dickinson, Rembrandt, and Dave Chapelle. The rest of the artists would be fledglings, young artists who were not born wealthy and did not grow up with the advantages that many successful artists did. It would be a multi-storied adobe affair kind of like Mesa Verde with log ladders between the apartments and kivas in the basement for sacred ceremonies. A deadwood sign hangs over the gate: "The Last Resort."

Q. Do you have another oral history book in the works? Or ... What's next for James Lough?

A. I don't have an oral history in the works now, but we're working on getting This Ain't No Holiday Inn made into a TV series. My next book is a collection of insightful, inspirational, and wickedly witty aphorisms called Short Flights. It will be published in November 2015 by Schaffner Press. 

...---*---...

It was a pleasure to talk with James Lough. His book This Aint' No Holiday Inn earned 4.5 stars with 23 reviews at Amazon.com. Click here to check it out.

Monday, March 30, 2015

"Gold Wings are Murder" Opening for Chapter 2

Dear Future Readers of Gold Wings are Murder: Here is a little sample of the book--the opening section of chapter two. This little snippet of a scene over breakfast at the Blue Stone Inn, gives you a good feel for the relationship between our heroes Django and Sorcha. The night before this conversation, Sorcha saw "The Bride," or had a dream, or a vision, or something.

...---***---...

"And what makes you think it was not a ghost?" Sorcha emphasized the "not," but she wasn't really angry. Not yet.

"Well, for one, because there's no such thing as ghosts," said Django.

"You don't know that."

"Well, I've never seen one, and until last night, you had never seen one."

"There! You've admitted that I saw a ghost last night."

"No. Just speaking rhetorically. You can't trap me with the words that easily." Django looked out the window at their Honda Gold Wing. It was parked almost in front of them--right where the porch steps lead down to the front parking lot.

"Will you admit it might have been a ghost?" asked Sorcha.

"If you'll admit it might have been a figment of your sleep-walking imagination."

"My imagination wasn't sleep walking. I was, and I've never seen a ghost while sleep walking before."

"Ah," said Django like a district attorney pouncing on the key testimony, "so you admit you were sleep walking!"

"Yes, yes, your honor. I admit I was sleep walking."

"And was this your first time sleep walking, young lady?"

"No, your honor. I often sleep walk when I'm sexually frustrated."

"Owe! Low blow."

"Or not," said Sorcha. "What are you staring at out there?"

"Look." Django gestured to the parking lot.

...---***---...

I'd love to tell you what they saw in the parking lot, but I'm a heartless literary tease! Find the "Follow By Email" button to be one of the first people who knows when this scary/sexy story is released.