I live just outside Raleigh, North Carolina. I've only been professionally published once, in last fall's edition of Flashquake online magazine, but I hope it's the start of something long term. I'm happily married, and I'm the father to two beautiful little girls, ages five and two, who will never be allowed to date boys, drive cars that are transporting boys, nor ride in cars to places where boys are present, or wear non-Amish-spinster-approved clothing in front of boys. I love horror movies, rhythmic noise, peanut butter, and the Munsters, not necessarily in that order. Please feel free to contact me if you want; I'd love to hear what you thought of the book. My e-mail address is zombieapocalypse at earthlink.net. Thanks for reading.
Where to find Scott Crowder online
They rip us apart from the inside when they flee from their world into ours, these monstrosities. There are people who can see them before it happens. They're called beastseers, and while they may be humanity's best hope against an invasion that can't be repelled, they may also be the key to our undoing.
Sweetly's lost everything over the years; her inhibitions and her self-respect, the love of her life and the baby he unknowingly gave her. She hopes to find someone who can avenge her in the Undermeat. Nightburners from the Undermeat ask a lot in return for jobs like this, though, and Sweetly doesn't have much to begin with.
Years ago, Belro Addison’s wife betrayed him, and he found himself a slave. He holds no ill-will against her, though; the kyronite mines are where he belongs. But when rebellious fifth columnists make a pawn of him, they think they’re forcing him to choose between fire and fate. Unbeknownst to them, however, Belro would rather die than choose; to him there’s little difference between the two.
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow is one of our most enduring stories, but what if the story hadn't always been the same one with which you grew up? Go back in time and hear about the myth behind the legend, but only if you dare...
Ghostly Gertie and the Flying Tacos of Terror
For the last couple of years I have written a Halloween poem for my daughters and read it aloud at our Halloween party. This is the poem I'll read this Saturday at our Halloween party, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy Halloween!
Night of the Living Dead Turnips
For the last couple of years I have written a Halloween poem for my daughters and read it aloud at our Halloween party. This was last year's and it's based on the premise that the Irish, before they came to America, used to carve jack-o-lanterns from turnips. It was only after they came to the new world that they found the indigenous pumpkin easier to use. I hope you enjoy it and Happy Halloween!
The boys are young and stupid. The old man is stubborn and crotchety. This ain't gonna end well...
Black Shark Soul
There is a black shark swimming through her; through the fluids of her sex and the saliva in her mouth, through the aqueous humor that fills her eyes and the blood that pounds mercilessly in her veins. Its great sweeping tail is always pushing her, driving her ever onward to hunt and kill and eat.
To stop is to die and it never stops.
It is always hungry.
The Queen of Carrion
I originally published the story online as a series of blog posts for verisimilitude. The blog and story both are mine.
The Queen and her sister deal with the horrors in their lives differently, but their results are the same: red. Please understand that the 'Queen' seemed to have been a troubled young lady and some of these posts were very explicit.
Children of God
How many ways are there to die as you hunt out here in the icy Minnesota winter? Too many: frost-bite, disease, starvation. More if you count the dead things hunting you in turn. The worst has to be the same people you'd hoped you could count as allies here at the end of the world. Hate, though, has a way of making even the end of the world seem like just another day in paradise...
The Comfort of the Shriek
When President Lincoln is shot dead, an apocalyptic cult worshiping in the swamps of Louisiana fears the end of days is near. When they find the apocalypse's angel buried in mud, they know it. One of them, though, has decided the angel is not theirs to fawn over, it's his.
And he'll do anything at all to keep it...
Something stalks the inhabitants of a small North Carolina town, something with an appetite that can't be sated. Two girls are forced to help it hunt for meat so that they can save their mother. Is there enough of Mom left to save, though?
Better not pout, better not cry, better not shout, I'm telling you why: the Red Father's coming, and he's the thing children fear most about Christmas night. He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake, he knows when you've been bad or good, so for God's sake, run, even if it does you no good at all...
The Valley of the Black Pig
A U.S. Marine sniper in Iraq is troubled by the killings he has to perform, but perhaps not as troubled as he may have once been...
Who is the Meat in the basement? That's the question on police SWAT Lt. Boulder Johnson's mind. The basement is in his brother-in-law Harley Earle's house and the question is important; Harley's wife, Boulder's sister, was never found after the uprising that saw the dead awaken. They were known as Meats when they were preying on the living. Now that they're gone, who's the Meat in the basement?
The House of Fists
Two cousins, bound together by the chains of poverty, happen upon something one hot summer morning that neither finds himself willing to surrender to the other. Each sees in it an escape, either from brutal squalor or crushing loneliness. They'll fight each other for it. They'll kill and die for it.
The thing they happen upon that summer morning is, after all, the body of a murdered child.
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Smashwords book reviews by Scott Crowder
on May 03, 2011
I think Ms. Ericson has written a really good story here. It moves along at a good clip and I think she did a bang-up job setting the tone of Tom's confusion without confusing the reader in the process. Perhaps she could have taken a bit more time explaining the meteors that are obviously at the root of what's happening to Tom; instead of being mysterious, they are presented rather clumsily as a plot element. Ms. Ericson's style, in this piece, is a little workman-like. If she decides to go back into the story and magnify the unknown qualities of the meteors, and expand on how the world and Tom have viewed them the last few days, this might go a long way toward livening up the prose. Last but not least I have to admit that I enjoy reading a story where the author doesn't simply wrap things up in a nice little bow. She's left the reader wanting to know more about what's happened without being obtuse and intentionally trying to confuse him. All around a good strong story that with a little work could be even stronger.
- The Flesh is Not Weak
on May 03, 2011
I thought this was a really well written story. Malady and Dodd have wonderful voices that enrich the story greatly. That seemed to be the story's strong point: the vernacular of the characters. Kudos for having the cojones to let Dodd use the n-word; it's not a nice word to hear but it fits in his mouth like his own rotten teeth. The plot moves along at a fast clip. There seemed to be no rough spots in the story's flow, and the grisly hints given to us of Dodd's shack at the end were perfect. My only negative comment would be about the cover image. It really has nothing to do with the story, but of course takes nothing away from it.
- Something Wicked...
on Jan. 12, 2012
I usually don't find the subject of coulrophobia to be particularly interesting, but I thought Mr. Mather did a very fine job of making Bojangles creepy as hell (but with all due respect, still not as creepy as Tim Curry's Pennywise the Dancing Clown!). He also does a fine job of making the story's main character, Harold Harper, sympathetic, despite the old man's questionable past, as well as building up a suitable sense of dread as the past unveils itself to him. All in all, a fine effort.
- Hidden House
on Jan. 23, 2012
A really well-written story with an emotional punch, and Mr. Matthews can craft a beautiful turn of phrase
- The Tell-Tale House of Usher
on July 30, 2012
The story is rich and visual in its aesthetics, full of well-researched beauty, and Mr. Stowell has mastered the art of the evocative turn of phrase: the one that springs to mind (one of many) is the way he describes children as 'high priests in a religion of secrets'. The story is far too short at 16,000 words, and though it's been said millions of times about countless pieces of fiction, it really is true about Mr. Stowell's story: you ache for it to go on, the story of the Ushers, Hatotep the mummy, and the world they inhabit. It's wonderful fiction, it's free, and if you pass it by unread, you'll be doing yourself a grave disservice.
- Event Zero
on Dec. 17, 2012
Event Zero is a well-written and engrossing take on the zombie apocalypse, told from the perspective of Patient Zero. It's not the standard 'group holes up somewhere trying to stay alive' gut-munchers that litter up reading lists. It is, instead, a post-modern zombie story, if such a thing could be said to exist, and I love this kind of writing: artists looking beyond the boundaries of what's already been done, and trying to do better. Kudos and congratulations, Mr. Engler, on a job well done.
- Suck It
on Jan. 06, 2013
A tautly written story. While it doesn't break any new ground in the vampire mythos, it does instead choose to concentrate more on the characters, which is a big plus. Vianne Vanator is a conflicted and complex narrator, and is someone I'd like to get to know more of. Oh, and her little dog, too. He's pretty wicked.
- Delightfully Twisted Tales: Fire, Fangs and Brimstone (Volume Two)
on Jan. 06, 2013
'Forgotten Prayers' and 'Blue Moon' are the collection's two strongest stories, but the other two are very good as well. Ms. Drayden writes in a calm professional voice that's as confident as any I've ever read before, and I feel lucky to have found her work.
- The Song of the Sea
on March 29, 2013
'The Song of the Sea’ is a well-told, classically-crafted story of sailors and the sea, or rather some of the horrible things that may be found in the sea. A deliberately though not at all slowly paced tale told in the style of Ambrose Bierce or Algernon Blackwood, it hearkens back to a type of story no longer really told, or at least not told so well.
The last sentence of the story is my favorite, and indicative of the care and craft that went into the story’s creation: Yet still, like a lonely satellite circling a terrible star, his steps carry him back to the harbour at dawn and dusk, when the sun is swallowed and the water runs thick and red, and he listens, in fear and in hope, for the Song of the Sea.
Yes. It is all that well told.
- The Fifth Rider: New Damascus
on May 08, 2013
An amazing story that grips right from the beginning. I love what's come to be known as the weird western, and this author has written the perfect example of it. The writing is engaging and direct without being plain, and the characters are fully fleshed out despite the story clocking in at under 17,000 words. Most reviews (even some of mine) lament the brevity of this story or that, wishing it could be longer, but this story seems absolutely perfect where it is. Thank you for sharing this gem, Mr./Ms. Park, and holy shit, am I looking forward to the next!
- The Pornographer's Party & Other Stories
on May 23, 2013
Damn this five star maximum; I'd give this collection a thousand stars if I could; more, even. Mr. Deluna has written stories so good, they leave you breathless and humbled and begging for more. It's hallucinogenic, fetishistic, macabre, funny, Grand-Guinol fiction, and it leaves you feeling that you've been more than entertained - you've been...altered, somehow. After finishing these stories, I feel like I did after discovering Michael Cisco's 'The Divinity Student' and China Mieville, like I've stumbled across some great revelation, and it makes me angered and sad that the rest of the world doesn't know Mr. Deluna's work.
- The Plague of Buckwash
on Jan. 15, 2014
I liked your story quite a lot, Mr. Werhonig. You have a bold imagination, and your prose is strong and straightforward, with action and variety to spare. If I could be so bold as to offer a few suggestions, though, they might be these: 1. Take a moment to establish your setting. We’re tossed into your story without a word about the two men’s surroundings, and don’t even know it’s night until they arrive at the saloon to find the lights on outside. 2. Clarify why Cuss and Cannon are even in Buckwash to begin with. Later in the story they drop hints that they are there because of the Undead, but the beginning of the story makes it seem as if they’ve simply drifted into town. If they have simply drifted into town, why do they bother to get involved? 3. Dirk lives a mere half hour’s walk outside of town in order to protect it from the Undead, but the townspeople know nothing of him or the Undead. This seems logistically unlikely. Perhaps Dirk should live further away and/or be much more mysterious. 4. When the three of them finally arrive at the church, Cannon enters, and the door is slammed behind him by a sinister unseen force, locking Cuss and Dirk outside. Then Cannon advances down the aisle despite the Necromancer’s impotent warnings. This diminishes the Necromancer as a villain. Then Cuss and Dirk blast their way in with a hand grenade, at which point the Necromancer says, “Now that I have you all gathered here…” If he wanted them all together, why close the door between them to begin with? Please don’t think I’m bashing you here. These are just some ideas you may want to consider at your leisure, if at all. I found the concept of the Mother to be quite frightening and inspired. The story was very good and I look forward to reading more of your work. In all honesty, it displays far more confidence and polish than I would have expected from someone with a mere seventeen years under his belt. There seems to be quite the talent in you working to find its voice, so above all, never stop working. Kudos, and thanks for sharing your story.