And the Winner is....

Ding ding!  I have a winner, folks, to the contest I announced last week.  Jennifer gets a signed copy of All the Paths of Shadow, and....

What's that?  I promised a video reveal?

Um, well.  About that.  I did, but I really should have checked my aging video camera first, because it won't power on.  I mean nothing.  Not a red charging indicator, not a flicker of the screen, not even a tell-tale buzz when I plug it in.

So, with that in mind, pretend I'm on your screen, right now.  Dressed in a tailor-made tuxedo, in tasteful black, of course.  I'm standing in a spotlight (I have a *huge* special effect budget in this version of the video), my chiseled frame accentuated by the perfect fit of the $8,000 tux.

I flash an incandescent smile at Camera Two, and tear open the envelope with a well-muscled flourish, and as Pink Floyd (live, behind me) fills the air with music I read aloud Jennifer's name.

The crowd, some eighty thousand strong, goes wild.  Roses are cast upon the stage.  Confetti and bright balloons fall onto the stage.  Overhead, a flight of fighter jets swoop down and drop fireworks, which explode with thunders and flashes.

Not bad for the presentation of a 17 dollar book, huh?

You don't see John Grisham snagging Pink Floyd as a back-up act, do you?  Ever seen Stephen King in a European-made tux?  No?

I didn't think so.

So, Jennifer T., I salute you!  I'll get your signed copy of Paths of Shadow out tomorrow.  Thanks for entering, and for all your support!

Oh, and now I'll have the cast of  'NCIS' read the winning entry, and the runners-up!

Jennifer's Entry:  The Cross-Eyed Caterpillar

Mug was a large green cross-eyed caterpillar in the first version of the book.  Such prescience must be rewarded, so Jennifer wins!

Entries of Note:

The Thinly-Veiled Attempt at Cashing In On Harry Potter
This is Not a Markhat Book
Man, Just Look at This Cover
All the Subplots of Confusion
Book One of Three


I'm glad to see I have some seriously snarky readers.

Thanks to everyone for playing!  Um, can someone pony up for all that jet fuel?

All the Paths of Shadow on Amazon

All the Paths of Shadow at Cool Well Press

Last Chance for Lennox

Long-time followers of my blog are already aware of my disdain for the Belfast City Council and their puppy-stomping minions, the Belfast City Council Dog Wardens.

It all started last year with the (illegal) seizure of Lennox the dog.  Certain breeds of dog (along with a goodly number of personal hygiene products and, apparently, common sense) are banned in merry old Belfast, you see.

The fact that subsequent DNA testing proved Lennox is a Lab / bulldog mix and NOT a prohibited pit bull did nothing to secure his release.  No.  The Belfast Dog Wardens had declared Lennox a menace, and as proof of their assertion they were quick to point out that Lennox was (gasp) a big black dog.

To make a long sad story short, Lennox was imprisoned in a tiny wire cage where he was surrounded by his own feces.  Now, I understand this arrangement with fecal matter on the floor is probably considered quite chic among the households of the Belfast Dog Wardens, but the photos of Lennox which leaked out were horrific to most humans.

But that's where poor Lennox has been, for over a year now.  His 'case' has been heard by a handful of judges and 'dog experts' who can most charitably be described as somewhat lacking in the higher mental functions.  Seriously.  I'm not sure how one becomes a judge in Belfast, but I'm beginning to suspect the process involves picking the short straw, or perhaps being the last man standing in a no-holds-barred grain alcohol drinking contest.

Regardless, one after another, these paragons of legal wisdom and frequent all-you-can-eat buffet patrons  upheld the original assertions that Lennox, who had never had a complaint spoken against him, who had a proper license, and who was a well-loved family pet, was actually a slavering, bloodthirsty beast in disguise.

The 'dog expert' was the most idiotic and laughable of the bunch.  One of the Dog Wardens even perjured herself.  But at the last hearing, none of that mattered - -yet another pinhead judge, eager to curry the favor of the City Council, sentenced poor Lennox to death.

Yesterday, at the very last moment, a stay of execution was ordered, as Lennox's family makes one last stab at getting him set free.  Here's the link to the story:

Last Chance

So take a moment, if you will, and spare a prayer or two for Lennox, a big black goofy dog who just wants to get out of that tiny cage and go home.

Oh, and Belfast City Council, and Belfast CC Dog Wardens?

Screw the lot of you. 

Story in New Horror Anthology

Goot even - ing, Gentle Readers.

Igor.  Close the door.  We don't want them to escape.  Ahem.  I meant, there is a draft.

Tonight, I present to you a new collection of terrible tales, entitled Shadow Street.  Inside these pages you will find a number of unique and lingering horrors, each with an address on the Street.

My home away from home in entitled 'The Knocking Man.'

What is that?

Why yes, it does feature a mortuary.  And a cemetery.  How perceptive of you.

And yes.  Both show signs of neglect.

But beware, for they also show signs of recent and, shall we say, enthusiastic use.

Those of you who prefer Nooks to Kindles may prefer to shop here.

Igor will see to the lighting of the reading lamps.

I hope you survive -- er, enjoy your journey down Shadow Street.  I trust it will not prove too dangerous.

Still, we advise you to walk with caution, and above all else, to look both ways...

The Usual Nonsense, Plus Markhat News!

First of all, don't forget to enter my contest!  The grand prize is a signed print edition All the Paths of Shadow, shipped right to your door, stronghold, lair, or orbital battle platform free of charge.  Entering only takes a second, and requires only a small amount of bone marrow, so please enter.  Or else I'll wind up looking very foolish giving away a book to myself.

Next, I would be remiss indeed if I failed to remind everyone that tonight is the night for the second season premiere of AMC's brilliant The Walking Dead.  If you've never heard of the show, click the link.  If you have, watch!  It promises to be quite a ride, as the survivors flee the destruction of the Center for Disease Control lab in zombie-infested Atlanta.

And now, about the new book.  Hey, don't look surprised, you knew it was coming.  I'm talking of course about All the Paths of Shadow, and before I say anything else let me present you with a few links, to ease and encourage your shopping experience!

All the Paths of Shadow in Amazon Kindle e-book format!

All the Paths of Shadow in print!

All the Paths of Shadow in epub and mobi formats, for your Nook or other device!

So one of the above should set you up.

So far, Paths has 8 readers reviews on Amazon, all of them good ones (seven five star reviews and one four star).  So it seems people like it.

On the Markhat front, Barnes & Noble have already put up the latest Markhat novel, The Broken Bell.  You can pre-order it for the Nook now; it will be released on December 17 everywhere, including Amazon and the publisher's site, Samhain Publishing.  even if you don't own a Nook, you can sneak over to Barnes and Noble and check out the sweet, sweet cover on  The Broken Bell.  It's worth the click.

That's about all the news I have right now.  I'm feeling fine and have hardly any traces of rigor mortis, so it's a good night for The Walking Dead!

Take care, zombie fans.  Keep your doors locked, your car keys handy, and of course, safeties off....

BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

CONTEST! Win a SIGNED print edition of ALL THE PATHS OF SHADOW!

It's time for another contest!  Yes, Gentle Reader, you can win a signed print edition of All the Paths of Shadow in all of its stunning 484 page glory.  You get it all -- paper, ink, verbs, numbers, the whole works, nothing held back.  To make matters even more dramatic, I will announce the winner of the contest in my first-ever Web video, so that all and sundry can point and laugh.

And what must I do to obtain this most coveted of prizes, you ask?  Read on...

CONTEST RULES:

1) Contestants, hereafter referred to as 'contestants,' must originate from Earth or within five light years thereof.
2) Entry into the Contest shall consist of three parts.
3) PART ONE: The email to franktuttle@franktuttle.com, with
4) PART TWO: The subject line PATHS OF SHADOW CONTEST, and
5) PART THREE: In the body of the email, include an alternate title for ALL THE PATHS OF SHADOW.  Be funny.  Call it MY SOCKS ARE FILTHY AND I DON'T CARE.  Call it ANOTHER GENERIC FANTASY BOOK HO HUM WHERE IS MY STEPHEN KING.  Call it anything you want.  Be bold and use lower case.  Anything goes here, people.  But extra points will probably be awarded to people who have read the book and who choose to lampoon either the subject matter or the writing style.
6) Myself and a panel of distinguished judges (read that as a roomful of sleepy dogs) will choose what we consider the funniest entry and award that submitter the signed book.  The revelation will be made via video on my website on Halloween night.

That gives you plenty of time to enter.  And yes, you can enter as often as you like.  I hope to get a lot of entries, because I'll probably post them so we can all get a chuckle.  If you'd rather I not post yours, say so in your email, or I'll assume it's okay.

So put on your writing cap and enter!  Be as mean or as snarky as you want.  That's what I'm looking for!

Box O' Books!

Today was a Post Office holiday, but that doesn't stop the big brown UPS trucks from their appointed rounds.

One such truck delivered to me a heavy box filled with books so new I could smell the ink.  That's right, boys and girls -- All the Paths of Shadow is now out in glorious three-dimensional hold-it-in-your-hand  print!

And boy does it look good.

Here's another shot!

These photos just aren't doing it justice.  Behold, the open book, and the pages thereof!

Did I mention this is a thick book?  Because it is.  484 pages, baby.  This is a fat thick book --

That's right, you get nearly two full inches of text!  According to the calculations of resident mathematician Fletcher (shown below), that is, um...

Two billion, four hundred million, five hundred and eighty-seven thousand words.

Okay, Fletcher is a dog, and that's probably not an accurate figure.  But this is a big thick book and it looks stunning in print and I cannot thank the people at Cool Well Press enough for all their hard work and professionalism in bringing All the Paths of Shadow from manuscript to market!

There are few thrills which equal or exceed that of opening a box of new books.  This box certainly exceeded my expectations!

Look, e-books are great.  That's pretty much all I buy these days, with a few exceptions.  This book is worth the exception.

I'm going to go stare at the covers for six or seven hours.  Have fun!

All the Paths of Shadow

Pics and Sundry

I finally caught Thor in a calm mood, and got a couple of pictures of him and his pal Petey.

Here's a couple of Thor, who is openly suspicious of my camera:

Below is Petey, who has become Thor's new best friend.  Petey has always been a very shy dog, so it's good to see him coming out of his shell!

Finally, here's a snapshot of my desk, from whence all my writing springs.  Or is typed.  Anyway, yes, it's too dark, but that's because the camera's batteries died as I took this.  It has nothing to do with all the dust revealed by the flash.  Nothing at all.

And yeah, I built the desk right into the room.  It's nothing fancy -- 2 by 4s and 3/4 inch plywood.  You can tapdance on it, if you want, and it won't budge or flex.  

In other news, All the Paths of Shadow is up in print format from Amazon!  So if you don't have an e-reader but you want to read the book, click here!

Going Bump #2: The Phantom of the Yocona River

When asked, I usually tell people that I've never seen anything I can point to and say 'I believe that was a ghost.'  And that's true.  Try as I might, I just can't sneak up on a Class IV Free-Floating Vapor, or catch a poltergeist lounging in front of a TV.

Which is not to say I've never seen anything I can't explain.  I have, and since this is October it's time to spill the beans.  Maybe some of you will have insights into the matter, because after pondering this for some thirty-three years I still don't have a clue.

I was, I believe, 15.  And let me preface this entire recounting by noting that no alcohol or other recreational substances were at all involved.  Honest.  I know that may sound unlikely, but it's the truth.

So, I was 15, and the snake-infested banks of the Yocona River beckoned.  The Yocona is a slow, muddy river which winds its way through the hilly woods of north Mississippi, and as a wild and dangerous place it was a natural magnet for all the kids who lived near it.

One fine August evening my good friend John Redmond and I decided to camp out on the River.  We spent a lot of time on the River, and knew its perils well.  So we loaded his pickup with supplies and an aluminum boat and set out.

We pitched camp on a sand bar not far from what everyone simply called The Structure.  The Structure was actually a concrete waterfall built by the Corps of Engineers to halt the Yocona's erosion of the fields on its borders.  I can still hear the roar of the water rushing over it today, on still nights.

But on that night, John  Redmond and I saw something neither of us can explain.

It started sometime after midnight.  We both saw a light of sorts playing among the boughs of an enormous old water oak about two hundred yards upstream.  It towered up above the outline of The Structure and was silhouetted against the night sky.

We sat and watched, considering the source of the light.  Our first thought was a flashlight.  We quickly rejected that, as it became obvious that what we were watching wasn't merely a projected beam of light being played amid the branches, but a glowing, moving mass that spun about the tree as though tethered somehow to the trunk.

Swamp gas, we decided.  Even though the tree stood on high, dry ground.  But as we kept watching, we rejected that too, because the light, whatever it was, grew brighter and began to change shape and color.

This is where it gets weird.

And let me remind you again that no drugs or alcohol were involved.

The glowing thing began to morph into recognizable shapes.  Faces.  Outlines.  Now a perfect yellow sphere.  Then a scowling red face.  A half-moon.  A flying man, arms outstretched.

No noise.  Just the light, changing, moving, orbiting that oak for purposes unknown.

Were we frightened?

Um, yes.  We're on a sand bar miles from anywhere.  It's far too dark to risk a panicked flight through the water moccasins and the copperheads and the tangles and the snags.  We're observing an inexplicable light show which, for all we know, is both being presented for us and is the preamble to something more sinister.

So we do what any reasonable pair of fifteen year olds would do -- we turn the boat on its side as a shield, arm ourselves with clubs and knives, and hunker down until sunrise.

That glowing thing, whatever it was, danced and flew all night.

We darted out briefly, now and then, to replenish our campfire with driftwood.  And we watched the clouds sail past while the lazy sun took his time in rising.

When the skies did finally begin to lighten, our visitor dimmed, made a final blurred circuit from the bottom of the tree to the top, and then simply shot up into the sky, where it vanished.

We stamped out our fire as soon as it was light and made haste in getting out of there and we never ever camped on the Yocona again.

As far as I know, nothing like what we saw was seen before or since.  There's nothing particularly sinister about the spot.  No old murders, no hangings, no drama of any kind.  It was just an oak tree.

So, what did I see, that night more than three decades ago?

I have no idea.

As I said, I can still hear the River pouring over the lip of the Structure on still nights.  Sometimes I listen to the dull distant roar and wonder if a certain old oak tree is being lit by a whirling, changing light, or if what we saw was meant only for John Redmond and I, and only appeared that night.

If so, what did it mean?  What did it want?  What were we supposed to take away from there, aside from mosquito bites and sand in our britches?

Still don't know.  Probably never will.

So that's my tale of the Yocona River, and the flying light.

What's your story?

Email me at franktuttle@franktuttle.com

News, and More!

First of all, a bit of news!

The print version of All the Paths of Shadow should be available on October 18.  That's at both amazon and the publisher's site, Cool Well Press.  So if you don't have an e-reader yet, no worries, you don't have long to wait to grab a printed copy of your own.

Also hitting the stands on the 18th of October is the YA horror anthology Shadow Street.  I've got a story in this one, so I'm eager to see it.

If you're on Facebook, you can chat with Meralda and Mug, who have been known to post on the new All the Paths of Shadow Facebook page.  Please, stop in, poke at Mug with a stick, leave a comment on the wall.  Mug is especially eager to offer advice in the fields of finance, horticulture, and romance, though I'd be wary of placing any credence on his advice in at least two of those fields.

So hit Facebook, because we *know* you've got a session up, and say hello.  

Going Bump #1: Voices in the Graveyard

I just looked up and realized it's October.

If I had to pick a favorite month, it's October.  The weather is mild.  The leaves are turning.  The lawn can jolly well go mow itself.  The stores are full of jack o' lanterns and poorly-made scary stuff and both SyFy and the Chiller Channel make a half-hearted effort to show a few decent horror movies.

And then of course there's the culmination of the season in Halloween.

I love Halloween.  Spare me the crushing emotional baggage, the doomed expectations of some Hallmark moment, the mad rush to buy gifts for people you barely know.  The other holidays have all that covered.  Halloween is scary and cool and fun.  Nobody expects or even wants you to have some misty-eyed moment over eggnog or tinsel.  Instead uou can paint your face green and put in fake fangs and go out shambling and moaning and people will laugh and smile and not once will they dial 911.

So, in honor of Halloween, I'll be blogging this month about things that go bump in the night.  Ghosts, spectres, haunts, haints, poltergeists, residual hauntings, intelligent hauntings, bad pipes, good pipes, dogs and cats sleeping together -- you know.  The usual spooky stuff.

So, do you believe in ghosts?

Do I?

I can't answer for you, and the best answer I can give for myself is yes, and no.

I believe rational, sober, intelligent people on occasion see, hear, or otherwise experience phenomena that can't be explained by mundane means.  No, I don't believe *every* sound in the night is a spook.  Most are water pipes or wind or passing headlights.

Most, but not all.

Which still doesn't mean that even the unexplained phenomena are ghosts.  They're just that -- unexplained phenomena.  Without better data, and a lot of it, I don't think anyone can categorically claim 'Ghosts exist, and are composed of this and that, and exist in realm X, and interact with us via this mechanism and for these reasons.'

Yeah, I know a lot of people say that very thing, filling in the thises and thats with whatever floats their belief system, but I've never seen anybody back it up with good hard data of any kind.  Show me physical evidence of ghostly manifestations that proves they exist.

I can prove radio transmitters exist with ease.  Turn on a radio.  Track the signal source using triangulation.  Measure the EM output.  Record it, analyze it.

That's the kind of proof I need.

We've all seen the flashing lights on K2 EMF meters on all the ghost hunting shows.  And sometimes they do seem to indicate the presence of some unseen source of weak EM emissions.

I have a K2 meter myself.  It's fun to wave around.  It's also fun to make it light up at surprising distances using nothing but an outgoing call on my cell phone.  Am I saying that's what you're seeing on TV?

No.  Not necessarily.  I am saying the instruments weren't designed to be hand-held ghost detectors.  So I don't fully trust their flashing lights -- it could be reacting to so many mundane sources.

In addition to the K2, I've got a Ramsey TM3 Tri-Field meter, an IR thermometer, a couple of digital recorders, and an ion detector I designed and built myself.  And yes, I've dragged all his stuff around in various cemeteries, just to see what might happen.

I never got so much as a blink on the K2 meter, which isn't surprising since these were rural spots well off the beaten path, much less the power grid.  Ditto on the TM3 and the ion detector.

I have, though, recorded several very interesting sounds.  EVPs, in the parlance of the paranormal.  Electronic Voice Phenomena.  And believe me, I was shocked when I heard what sounded like actual voices on recordings I made, when I knew I was alone in a quiet graveyard.

To make things even weirder, I tried recording EVPs in less spooky locales.  The warehouse at work.  My patio.  My office.  Here, in my study.

Not once have I picked up an EVP anywhere but a cemetery.

Now, when I say voices, I don't mean perfectly clear words of the 'Hi, my name is Bob, you're standing on my grave, you idiot' variety.

They've faint.  They're indistinct.  Some are little more than distant murmuring.

Take this one, for instance.  I was in a tiny old cemetery in Tula Mississippi.  My wife and I were the only people for miles.  She wasn't speaking.  And yet on playback I clearly heard a conversation taking place nearby, even though no one was there.

I'll upload the audio clip to my site and post a link to it.  If you've got headphones, use them, and crank the volume.  It's very short -- I only included the actual EVP.  And no, I won't play any silly jokes like inserting a loud BOO or anything like that.

Here is the file:

Voices in Tula Cemetery

If you've got ghostly photos, stories, or EVPs of your own, I'd love to see or hear them.  Email me at franktuttle@franktuttle.com!

Finally, what would a blog be without a pitch for my new book, which you can get from Amazon for your Kindle here, or in epub for your Nook or other device here!

Go on, you know you want a copy.  And if you listen really closely to the voices in the EVP, that's what they're saying..."buy the boooooooooook..."