SO THIS FISH WALKS INTO A CEMETERY by Jason EvansJason Evans, also known as the Keeper of Twilight, is the long-time owner of a popular crossroads blog for writers, "The Clarity of Night." His quarterly flash fiction contests have drawn thousands of viewers, and even more importantly, have been a well of inspiration for writers from around the world.
He is also one of the co-founders of the Book Roast blog. As the Book Roast team brainstormed various titles and concepts for an interactive community of authors, Jason is the one who zeroed in on the name "The Book Roast." Getting the Book Roast off the ground was truly a team endeavor. Many thanks to Jason for all of the hard work and creativity he's put into our blog!!!
Over the next couple of weeks, it is going to be my pleasure to roast the Roasters! Without further ado, let's read about his latest manuscript, SO THIS FISH WALKS INTO A CEMETERY. (BTW, I hear he's pretty pumped to be finishing the project and starting to query in June!)
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After a childhood marked by the loss of his father, Richard Silva should finally be hitting his stride. He's young, smart, has a great job, and a hot co-worker is pursuing him. Unfortunately, a voice living inside his antique mantel clock pesters him with bad jokes, while mysterious, muttering creatures he can't see follow him on Philadelphia's streets. Before he's too terrified to leave his apartment, Richard travels to his hometown to find the origin of these "dust people." There, he meets Leah, a girl he was never brave enough to date in high school. Around Leah and her son, the dust people disappear. However, the calm does not endure. Back in Philadelphia, the final battle with the dust people awaits. Will a talking clock be the one to save him?
Jason working on revisions. (I used to call him Grisly Adams.)
Visit Jason at The Clarity of Night
Excerpt from SO THIS FISH WALKS INTO A CEMETERY
Richard limped along with his late day shadow. He just parked after his long drive home. Sidewalk cracks passed. His bag dragged on his shoulder.
He tucked the clock under his other arm. The pendulum perched ready in his back pocket in case he was jumped. Philadelphia's streets crisscrossed in every direction. No dust people. Just the echo of his footsteps.
Sunday evening traffic drifted lazy and listless through the yellow blinking lights. His mind dwelled on Leah ever since his drive began. He thought of the conversations they had. He thought of the conversations they didn't have.
His apartment building loomed. The shadows of its neighbor cut a harsh line of darkness down the facade. His own window was on the wrong side of the line. The western window. Standing out in the openness, Richard saw how flimsy his barricade up there seemed. A shade and a slid-over bookcase couldn't defeat evil. He couldn't defeat the creatures that crept beneath the uneasy world.
Knock knock, the clock said.
It startled him.
His foot caught a crack, and he stumbled.
Knock knock.
Cold sweat sprang under his arms. The clock hadn't peeped since last night at Leah's house.
Knock knock.
Richard felt pasty. Unwell. He pushed faster, the dread dragging at his heels.
Knock knock, knock knock. The voice was growing angry.
He approached his apartment building. The feeling of electricity buzzed around him. His hair stiffened, as if static sizzled up from the brush of his feet.
KNOCK KNOCK!
"Who's there?" Richard croaked.
He was going to double over. Be sick.
Few know you're real in there.
The revolving door. Just ahead.
He almost broke into a run, if he were capable of running.
Few know? Real?
The words gnawed into him. But the clock was waiting.
Richard spoke, the words rushing together. "Few-know-yer-real in there...who?"
The clock's voice darkened. Turned vicious. The fu-ner-ral in there is for you.
Richard crashed to a stop at the door.
The building moved. Swelled. It leaned over him and rumbled deep into the subway tunnels below.
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Answer the following for a chance to win a $15 gift certificate to Amazon:
Tell me about your favorite fish. Then, tell me about your favorite cemetery. The quirkiest answer wins!
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After a childhood marked by the loss of his father, Richard Silva should finally be hitting his stride. He's young, smart, has a great job, and a hot co-worker is pursuing him. Unfortunately, a voice living inside his antique mantel clock pesters him with bad jokes, while mysterious, muttering creatures he can't see follow him on Philadelphia's streets. Before he's too terrified to leave his apartment, Richard travels to his hometown to find the origin of these "dust people." There, he meets Leah, a girl he was never brave enough to date in high school. Around Leah and her son, the dust people disappear. However, the calm does not endure. Back in Philadelphia, the final battle with the dust people awaits. Will a talking clock be the one to save him?
Jason working on revisions. (I used to call him Grisly Adams.)
Visit Jason at The Clarity of Night
Excerpt from SO THIS FISH WALKS INTO A CEMETERY
Richard limped along with his late day shadow. He just parked after his long drive home. Sidewalk cracks passed. His bag dragged on his shoulder.
He tucked the clock under his other arm. The pendulum perched ready in his back pocket in case he was jumped. Philadelphia's streets crisscrossed in every direction. No dust people. Just the echo of his footsteps.
Sunday evening traffic drifted lazy and listless through the yellow blinking lights. His mind dwelled on Leah ever since his drive began. He thought of the conversations they had. He thought of the conversations they didn't have.
His apartment building loomed. The shadows of its neighbor cut a harsh line of darkness down the facade. His own window was on the wrong side of the line. The western window. Standing out in the openness, Richard saw how flimsy his barricade up there seemed. A shade and a slid-over bookcase couldn't defeat evil. He couldn't defeat the creatures that crept beneath the uneasy world.
Knock knock, the clock said.
It startled him.
His foot caught a crack, and he stumbled.
Knock knock.
Cold sweat sprang under his arms. The clock hadn't peeped since last night at Leah's house.
Knock knock.
Richard felt pasty. Unwell. He pushed faster, the dread dragging at his heels.
Knock knock, knock knock. The voice was growing angry.
He approached his apartment building. The feeling of electricity buzzed around him. His hair stiffened, as if static sizzled up from the brush of his feet.
KNOCK KNOCK!
"Who's there?" Richard croaked.
He was going to double over. Be sick.
Few know you're real in there.
The revolving door. Just ahead.
He almost broke into a run, if he were capable of running.
Few know? Real?
The words gnawed into him. But the clock was waiting.
Richard spoke, the words rushing together. "Few-know-yer-real in there...who?"
The clock's voice darkened. Turned vicious. The fu-ner-ral in there is for you.
Richard crashed to a stop at the door.
The building moved. Swelled. It leaned over him and rumbled deep into the subway tunnels below.
*********************************************
Answer the following for a chance to win a $15 gift certificate to Amazon:
Tell me about your favorite fish. Then, tell me about your favorite cemetery. The quirkiest answer wins!
