Script Excerpt from Last Man Zombie Standing Comic

Last Zombie Standing | Unfashioned Creatures: A Frankenstein Anthology

Today’s excerpt is something fun! I wanted to share with you the first few pages of my script for Last Man Zombie Standing.

Did you know that I’m a fan of Vincent Price? I feel the iconic actor really brought a lot to horror, and there’s a lot to be said for the beauty of black-and-white television. I wrote the script with a few easter eggs built in; writing it was a little challenging, in the sense that I had to communicate my vision not knowing the artist. I’ve never met Josie Pi Grant, but I think she did a brilliant job breathing life into the undead imagery I had in mind.

If you’re interested in this comic, you can pick up a copy of Last Man Zombie Standing on DriveThruComics.com. Or, you can pick up a copy of Unfashioned Creatures, A Frankenstein Anthology from Red Stylo Media’s website.

Here’s the first page straight from my script!

Last Man Zombie Standing

PAGE 1

PANEL 1: The first image is a close-up of piles of newspapers lying on the edge of a lab table. The date is March 8, 1964. The headlines read: “U.S. Scientists Blamed For Outbreak.” “Millions Undead.” “Human Cloning A Disaster.” “Apocalypse Now!” Here, the title of the comic may be superimposed on the left hand side of the image in a gory, stylized font.

Silent Panel

PANEL 2:
In this image, we see we’re inside a science lab; the room is in total disarray. Piles of books and newspapers are stacked haphazardly on the floor. Tubes hang down from the ceiling. There are lab benches piled high with bottles of different shapes and colors. The light source is directed toward the right corner. The windows have been boarded up. There are mousetraps scattered across the floor, ashtrays filled with cigarette butts, and empty bags of airport peanuts. Mary Tyler Moore and other models adorn the walls; their pictures have been ripped out of magazines and taped up for decoration.

1 Dr. Powell (off screen from right): Dare I?

PANEL 3: We see DOCTOR POWELL leaning toward a coffin-shaped glass tube filled with an electric blue fluid. The tube sits at a 45 degree angle. Inside the propped tube, lies the body of Doctor Powell’s clone, 000138, but we can’t tell who the man is yet, just that he’s male. Doctor Powell is a tall, spindly man with high cheekbones, heavy brows, and a thin moustache. He is wearing a traditional white lab coat, shiny black shoes, and tweed pants. His clothes are worn and threadbare. A ballpoint pen hangs over his ear. His hair is graying at the temples and he looks malnourished. He still wears his beat up name tag and there is an old metal flashlight sticking out of his pocket. He also wears a broken watch. On his right hand, between the thumb and forefinger, is a series of digits: 000137.

2 Dr. Powell: Why, there’s no telling what the two of us could do. Build armies! Clone Eve! Find the cure!

PANEL 4: Here, see a close up of “Dr. Powell” in the tank and our suspicions are confirmed: this clone is Dr. Powell. He is not as malnourished as the scientist is, and he is clean-shaven, but the resemblance is clear.

3 Dr. Powell: Or should I say: “Just the one of us?” Yes… That’s right…

Tomorrow’s Precious Lambs, A Zombie Short Story Excerpt

The Zombie Feed Volume 1“Tomorrow’s Precious Lambs” is an interesting zombie story for me, because it represented a lot of “first’s”. It was the focus of my first reading, it generated requests for a sequel, I wrote a gospel song while writing it, and it was also my first reprint in Extreme Zombies, too!

Published by Apex Book Company, you can find “Tomorrow’s Precious Lambs” in The Zombie Feed, Vol. 1, which is the original collection filled with stories by Lucien Soulban, Maggie Slater, Simon McCaffrey and more! Extreme Zombies is also available through Prime Books and features really awesome writers like George R.R. Martin, Nancy A. Collins, and Joe R. Lansdale. Both collections are available on Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, and wherever books are sold.

Here’s a bite of the story! Enjoy the braaaaaaaiiiiiiiinnnnnnnssssssss…

Tomorrow’s Precious Lambs Excerpt

Midnight. The hour when flesh walks and good, little children are stashed away like stolen diamonds. The hour when the feast begins: skin-ripping hair-raising bone-cracking crunch, crunch, crunches. The hour when my thunder stick comes out, zap, zap zapping all the way ’til dawn.

Go on down. Down to the ri-ver. Go on down and wash a-way.

One-thirty. Dog tired. Got a call from headquarters. Had to exterminate a nest out by a gas station. Was worried I was going to run out of ammo. Pause. Rewind. That’s right. I didn’t need to re-load. Long battery life. Couldn’t use the stick like I wanted. There were too many of ’em and not enough of me. So I introduced them to my best friend and mortal enemy–C4. Crickle-crackle snap, snap, snap. Orange flames licked the corpses, ate their rotting flesh right down to the bone. Smelled like my momma’s church picnic. Hungry. Nothing to eat. Found an energy shot. Slammed two of them. Made my belly hurt even more.

Come to the ri-ver. Wash, wash, wash your sins and pray.

Fell asleep at the wheel. Phone woke me up. Three a.m. Witching hour. Sergeant’s on the line saying something about domestic abuse. Tell her it could wait ’til daylight. Man beats a woman down, that’s bad. Man eats a woman’s brain? That’s the guy I’m coming for.

“Officer Mike….” Sergeant’s got that disapproving tone in her voice, like she’s my mother. My momma was a preacher, but she died in a fire, along with the rest of the parish. Don’t know much about Sarge or how she survived. Then I remember. She sticks to the rules, because it’s all she’s got. It’s like her feelings dried up and they were replaced with a pile of useless laws. Like my appendix. Don’t know what I need it for, but it’s still there.

Maybe the law is all I got, too. “Yes, sir?”

“We got a biter.” Fuck. “She’s twelve.” Double fuck. I’ve been on this job too long, but not long enough. Three years. Shitty pay. Crappy benefits. Divorced. No kids. That was before the dead rose up out of their graves. Some folk thought it was the Rapture, welcomed the dearly departed back into church with open arms. Then the dead took over, gnawing on people like they were Thanksgiving leftovers. Told myself this had nothing to do with God or Jesus or the devil. This reeked of greed, something man-made, and it was up to me to find out who’s responsible.

“I’ll be there.”

Redwing’s Gambit Sale, Novella Excerpt, and Design Essays

Today, I am pleased to announce that Redwing’s Gambit, which takes place in the fun, romping Bulldogs! universe, is on sale through Saturday, May 13th at DriveThruFiction.com. Written in 2012, this novella is an earlier look at my storytelling — perfect if you’re waiting for my upcoming stories to come out! When Redwing’s Gambit first debuted, I wrote notes on the story’s and setting’s design, and am re-sharing those here in addition to one of my favorite scenes.

If you’re interested, here’s a link to Redwing’s Gambit on DriveThruFiction.com. The story is formatted in ePub and PDF; you receive both when you order the file. Additionally, I pulled some links to design essays I wrote about the novella for you, too!

  • Constructing Redwing’s Gambit: Research and Background Part 1 of 5 – The first question I asked myself was not about what story I wanted to write, but how I wanted to present the tale in such a way that felt more like Fate than d20. In my mind, the Fate rules really emphasizes and focuses on relationships or the ties that connect and bind the characters to one another.
  • Constructing Redwing’s Gambit: Characters and Treatment – Part 2 of 5 – The treatment evolved from the original concept for a number of reasons. At the time, I thought the story required one perspective, but that didn’t turn out to be the case. One mystery in a closed environment was “okay,” but it wasn’t enough for the readers to get a feel of what makes Bulldogs! a cool science fiction setting. Initially, my thinking was that an observant character could really dig into and tell a tale, highlighting the different aspects of the alien races and the worlds. Boy, was that ever wrong! While that technique sounds good, it didn’t work when I started writing it because I bored myself going on and on and on…
  • Constructing Redwing’s Gambit: Structure and Plot – Part 3 of 5 – After I had an approved story and treatment, I went to work writing the first and second draft. My inclination was not to offer one perspective, but to offer several. A mystery just did not work from an observer’s point-of-view because I had a lot of characters and they’re all not physically located in the same place on the ship. The logistics of having Dan sneak around like a ninja were not only boring — but creepy and Clueish. So, I added in other perspectives straight off the bat. I knew multiple viewpoints (there are three) was outside of how I normally write, but I felt it was necessary for a good story.
  • Constructing Redwing’s Gambit: Revisions and Cut Text – Part 4 of 5 – I have about 7 to 10,000 words of cut text that I removed from Redwing’s Gambit during the revisions process. Once I erased Dan Daget’s character, I restructured the flow of the different perspectives and ensured that they read correctly. The biggest reason for the revisions, however, was to reduce any extraneous worldbuilding or plot hooks to keep the pace strong. With this being a novella, that meant minimizing certain aspects and also changing the strength of the relationship between Violet and the security chief to one of hidden, but mutual, feelings for one another. This first bit was altered because the spying robots was less important than Xax or Edna’s kidnapping.

Redwing’s Gambit Excerpt

One of the characters that readers really enjoyed was an angry teddy bear/mercenary named “Fang”. This short scene is Fang’s debut! The angry bear is a stowaway on board the ship, and he’s facing off against a feline robot.


Deep within the bowels of the cruiser, a small bear-like creature crawled through a grimy pipe and dropped down through a narrow opening. He wiggled his way down, down, down until he landed on the floor of a sooty vent.

The animal bared his teeth, hunting for signs of the enemy, but could not see his prey.

Turning a corner, he came face-to-face with a cat. It nudged its cool body against him and purred.

The mechanical noise grated his ears. It wasn’t a cat, it was cat-like. A robo-cat. And it was colored a bizarre shade. Watered down red. No, pink. An albino cat?

“Out of my way,” the creature hissed. “You will move for Fang.”

A clicking sound. Then, a high-pitched squeal. An antenna poked out of the metallic cat’s mouth, its red tip blinked urgently.

“Move. Now.”

The small bear stepped forward, but the robo-cat would not budge.

“Stupid cat.” Fang grabbed the robo-cat’s antenna and yanked back hard. The pink robot yelped in pain, its head spun faster and faster until a thin plume of smoke escaped from its pointy ears. Crouching low, Fang swept his foot and knocked the cat on its back. Then, the creature pulled out the robo-cat’s leg and beat its rosy body with it until he was satisfied.

It was an empty victory.

Redwing’s Gambit is available at DriveThruFiction.com.

[New Release] Kobold Guide to Gamemastering

Kobold Guide to GM'ing

I am pleased to announce that my essay “Planning Your Campaign in Four Stages” is now available in the Kobold Guide to Gamemastering. In the essay, I introduce a spiderweb method to reduce the appearance of a linear plot.

Assigning a number of sessions and scenes to a campaign often traps you
in the idea that plots must be linear, and the scenes become points along
that line that always advance the story forward and in a specific direction. If or when players go off-script, GMs then compensate by creating other
towns or NPCs to lead the group back to the main story.

To reduce linear-campaign situations like these, reshape the plot to
accommodate for movement.

“Planning Your Campaign in Four Stages” is but one of the stellar essays available in the Kobold Guide to Game Mastering. I had a lot of fun geeking out about organizational methods, and I hope you enjoy my take on planning a campaign.

About Kobold Guide to Game Mastering

Every GM has struggled with some aspect of their game. Maybe it’s session prep or sustaining a long-term campaign. Perhaps it’s a more external issue such as problem players or limited play time. Many of these concerns, and others, will be addressed in the Kobold Guide to Gamemastering.

The latest in the award-winning and fan-favorite series from Kobold Press tackles gameplay head-on, with advice from everyone from veterans to talented newcomers on how to make a tabletop RPG session snap, crackle, and shine!

Edited by Sean Reynolds, the book’s writers include Frank Mentzer, Keith Baker, Zeb Cook, James Jacobs, Monica Valentinelli, Shanna Germain, and many other well-known industry vets and long-time GMs.

This 150 page, 6” x 9” softcover features cover art by Blizzard and Magic: the Gathering artist Eva Widermann and is part of the award-winning Kobold Guide series. So, if you know a new or long-time GM that could use some helpful, practical advice, or a few handy tips and tricks, this is the book for them.

This book is available in digital and print.

Suffering of the Unchosen Story Excerpt and Notes

“Suffering of the Unchosen” was a short story I wrote for Tales of the Dark Eras to highlight my take on the Salem Witch Trials for Hunter: The Vigil in Dark Eras. In Doubting Souls (1690-1695), I set the stage for a setting in which monster-hunting players have trouble figuring out who the real monster is. This story is representative of one take on Doubting Souls; that era has a considerable amount of setting information in and around Salem Town and Salem Village following months of research. Some of the resources I pulled from are also listed at the end of that chapter as well.

My story ties into that theme by presenting a main character, a grieving widower and father, who wants nothing more than to exact justice on the hunters who murdered his family. Whether or not his anger is justified is something you’ll have to find out should you read the entire tale.

For now, though, I hope you enjoy this excerpt from “Suffering of the Unchosen”.

Suffering of the Unchosen

I was but a simple farmer whose tender son once planted seeds in barren, rocky soil, whose sweet wife once gathered berries, herbs, and mushrooms in the forest, whose family once led a trouble-free life surrounded by our cousins and neighbors in Salem Village.

Now, that life — the life of William Mansforth — is over. Though it is by some miracle I still draw breath, the rest of my family was tragically murdered a few nights ago.

I found their smoldering remains after I had returned home, battered and bruised, for I had been robbed by petty thieves earlier that day. Upon witnessing the horrible sight of my wife and child blackened beyond all recognition, I sank to my knees in despair, for everything I owned and loved had been ripped from me in a mere day’s time. My purse had been stolen, my cabin and tiny plot of land had been sanctified by fire, and my wife and son had been tied to the stake and burnt alive.

In truth, I had not the eyes to see the pyre for what it was — a ruse — for I was preoccupied with guilt. What could I have done to save them? My beloved wife, Mary, and my adopted son of five years, William, were unjustly murdered and judged as witches for all to see. They were no devil-worshippers! Questions plagued me; each was a pox upon my mind. If I stayed the night, would their murderers return and end me, too? Would I know the faces of the townsfolk who took two innocent lives? Or, was this the Devil’s Hand at work?

With an aching heart, I slept at the foot of that grisly sight, whispering prayers for their wayward souls, so that the spirits of my wife and son would not lose themselves in sorrow. Our cabin’s logs heaped upon the pyre still burned slow and hot; their orange embers provided warmth and kept the cold dew from settling on my skin. There I slept on the hard ground, inhaling and holding the dwindling smoke of that wretched fire in my lungs, begging for death. Who could have done such a thing? Who dared to commit murder and walk free?

At my wit’s end, I could no longer feign sleep. Instead, I sat up, pulled out my hunting knife, and sliced my open palm. I was careful not to wince as I did so; the pain was sharp, but lingering. It reminded me that whilst my wife and son were dead I was, by God’s miraculous Hand, still alive. So in this fevered state, I forged a pact with Him in my own blood, to shine His light into the darkest recesses of men’s most murderous hearts, to ensure my family’s killers were justly judged — even if their capture would come at the cost of my own life.

“William…”

“Mary?” I knew not if her voice was inside my head, or if it was calling to me from between the trees. I yearned for her and hoped her ghost was a divine messenger. I shouted into the open air: “I am frightened, Mary. Is that you?”

“Here, William. Look to the great oak!”

I did as the voice bade, and saw a vision of Mary made whole, standing in front of the tree where we first met. Her naked body was shrouded in fine translucent robes, her long golden-brown hair flowed wild and free, and her kind brown eyes were just as merry as I remembered. She stood apart from me at a distance, but near enough so I could tell she was not a figment of my imagination.

“I am sorry, Mary. I was robbed, wife. Beaten and robbed!” I tried to beg her forgiveness, but my tongue was stuck. “Had I gotten home sooner…”

“William, you must listen carefully to me now. I have naught but a few moments, and I must tell you a secret…”

I fell into a fever-dream, half-drunk at the sight of her, wondering if I had finally gone mad. Was her spirit Heaven-sent or Devil-born? For precious few moments, I wondered if my wife truly was a witch. Then her words stuck to me like thistles, and they held fast.

“…three innocent babes, stuffed with herbs and dressed in linen, buried beneath the church by my late husband. I was the only one alive who witnessed were they were buried…and who killed them…”

“Who did this to you, Mary?” My voice was raspy, and I struggled to speak. I had to know. “Who slaughtered you and our dear boy for the sake of this knowledge? Who?”

“They call themselves hunters.”

Tales of the Dark Eras is now available now on DriveThruFiction.com. Each story in this collection tackles a different historical era, and offers a look into vampires, changelings, werewolves and more featured in the Chronicles of Darkness game line. Watch for upcoming news about additional platforms!

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