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Month: August 2022

Hell: A Novel. Coming Soon.

Here’s a new project I’m working on. It’s about a group of people who throw a suicide party and end up in Hell. Then the main character actually sees what hell is really like, obviously really really dark, scary, bad, awful. And who knows where it goes from there. Point is I want to write my own Dante’s Inferno for 2022, but make it as dark and gritty as possible.

I attempted something like this in Second Sight with the White Room saga that happens right after Norcastle and also the final 3rd of The Snow White Murders happens in Eden (aka the dream world) this is not going to be part of that series. This is a standalone about the actual biblical Hell and exploring the concept in as much dark, gritty, and disturbing detail as possible. Here’s the opening (not edited yet, too early for that).

The gun in Jacob Hill’s hand was made of fine cold steel. It was silver, and polished to a perfect sheen. A beautiful weapon manufactured for one purpose, and one purpose alone. To kill or destroy whatever it was pointed at.
That gun, with it’s perfectly smoothed out barrel which had never been used was pointed at Jacob Hall’s right temple. He stared at himself in a mirror with lit candles on the sink in the bathroom of his small apartment which sat right off of Midlothian Turnpike near Richmond, Virginia.
His eyes were locked with his own in the mirror and for a few moments he could think of nothing. His mind went completely blank. He felt truly free for a moment, but back to the task at hand. He put his finger on the trigger, took a deep breath and pulled it. The gun clicked… it hadn’t been loaded at all.
He flinched as he heard the click and opened his eyes only seeing his reflection in the mirror again. He had not forgotten to load the gun, only that he wanted to see how it would feel in his final moments when the day came, which in his mind was soon.
There was no second guessing it. He was going to take his own life, in that very bathroom, with the candles lit and a revolver in his hand.
He would be shot by his own pistol, with a bullet that he had chosen for himself, and he would finally be free from the horrible world that he had grown so tired of. But today wasn’t the day, he wasn’t ready quite yet.
He had some arrangements that he wanted to make before hand. Some letters that had to be sent, and a suicide not to explain away why he did what he idd. He wanted to leave no stone unturned, and no T uncrossed.
He wanted no one to wonder why, how, or if they could have stopped him. They couldn’t have. They had no choice in the matter, it was part of his plan for years. He was only 23 years old, and from the time he was 7 he knew that he was going to take his own life.
He had been in and out of the psychology offices at Crossroads or various private practices and they all said the same thing. He had depression. It wasn’t quite true at the end of the day.
His raging hormones had been suppressed by drugs given by doctors who some called pill factories and those medicines lead him to his inevitable outcome he faced now. Staring in a mirror with a 38 revolver in his right hand.
The doctors he saw didn’t see him for more than a few moments. They immediately said depression, scribbled on a paper, and sent him off to the pharmacy for his Zoloft, Prozac, Trazodone, or whatever drug of the month they put him on trying to fix his depression.
In reality his depression was nothing more than frustration from a shitty home life he had dealt with for years that was forced upon him. He had no choice in that matter. The only choice Jacob had was his own death.
The day. The method. The notes. The letters. The ending. He had that control in his life and he craved it. He obsessed over it. It became a facet of his life.
He fantasized about his own funeral, and in his mind he couldn’t wait to be gone from this wretched hell he lived in. But it wasn’t time yet… he projected the date. October 31st, 2022. He wanted to die on the 23rd Halloween of his life.
His favorite number was 23. He didn’t know why. That number in particular simply spoke out to him. 23. It was a great number. Started with a even number and ended with an odd number. 2 went into 3 one time. One. Two. Three. Just like the song said. ABC is easy as 123.
He became obsessed with that number and knew that when he finally reached 23 he would be free from this death marble flying through space. He would take his own life. He would get back at all those bastards who passed him over in school.
He would get revenge on his father for his endless drunken beatings, and he would get back at his whore mother who opened her legs to the streets and let ever man regardless of race or gender take their turn with her. She didn’t care.
Man, woman, transgender, even a dog had free reign to her disgusting crevice from which he was birthed. They all came happily, and left happier than before. With a nice parting gift that they would keep for life no less.
He figured that on his 23rd birthday he would die in an automobile accident, but it never happened. He waited, even drove dangerously on purpose, but it just never happened.

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Inspiration: How I Wrote 15+ Books in 4 Years

Second Sight:

I was writing a radio drama called The White Room & Norcastle. They both were turned into a full novel. In retrospect, the novel’s narrative path is a mess. It’s by far the most complex book. It was basically me trying to figure out how to write a 450-page book without studying anyone else’s 450-page book. It went to #1 in October of 2018, so I guess it did well. People seem to like that one a lot.

What can you really say about it? It was the one that sold the most, and it was the inspiration for the rest of the books. Every book has a reference or callback to Second Sight somewhere in it.

Snow White Murders:

Wrote this one second. Didn’t release it for another 2 years, even though it was technically finished in the summer of 2018. It has shifted around in my ranking. I used to think it was complete crap now I think it’s one of the best ones if not the best. The inspiration really came from me watching a lot of law & order at the time. I was obsessed with Law & Order and SVU.

I also had been talking to the devs of a game called “The Infections Madness of Doctor Dekker,” and the talks didn’t go far, but I pitched the idea of me writing a book they could use for the sequel since that game was very bookish. We never really got into any negotiations about rights or publishing because they decided to just go with The Shapeshifting Detective, but I kept writing the book.

It was done in 2 weeks. I wrote the entire thing front to back in 2 weeks. It was very easy for me to write, but it had a ton of rewrites, remakes, remasters, and all sorts of shit before I finally released it. I think I even added a Hannibal Lecter clone at one point who got scrapped. It was just a mess because I was still trying to figure out how to write a long book without adding a ton of what I called “filler,” which, in reality, is not what I thought it was.

Stephen King pads his books to the extreme, and I thought anything that wasn’t dialogue, action, or light description was filler. So I was trying to write a movie on paper and somehow make it 400 pages. It still came out great, though, even if it ran too fast.

Ghostwriter Murders:

I tried to write goosebumps for adults. It worked out well. No real memories of it beyond I was watching Are You Afraid of The Dark at the time and wrote my own episode.

Harvest The Children:

The same feeling as Ghostwriter, but I was watching The Twilight Zone when I wrote that.

Condemned:

I wrote that as an experiment because I had been writing big grandiose books that were full of characters, locations, and globetrotting. I wanted to write something that was just one room, 4 people, and no other scenery or plotlines. Just 4 people trying to solve a problem. Turned out to be the highest reviewed and most loved out of all my books. People really loved Condemned. The audiobook is a wonderful audio drama.

Rain on Me:

My stepfamily was really pissing me off at one point, and I just wrote a book that was a mix of me getting that out of my system, but also an experiment to see if I could write Second Sight without monsters. Instead of having ghosts, monsters, and flashback scenes like in Second Sight, write something that took what was great about the first 90 pages, aka Norcastle Saga, and do that without the monsters. It came out well. It’s the second-highest-rated book. People ate it up.

Bring Me A Dream:

I had dreams about a summer camp, where I had all these friends. I would always realize it was a dream, and right before I’d wake up, I tried to get their names and numbers to find them in real life. I can’t remember any of their names, but I was always happy to see them. Then I’d wake up and realize I really had no friends in real life at the time. It was a really depressing period. My girlfriend at the time had left me, and I was very lonely. I figured someone had to be able to relate to that. Wanting to live in a dream where everything is wonderful and perfect. Hopefully, heaven is just the dream world from my books. It would be nice to have your own little world you can create for yourself, minus the instability and negative effects that come later.

The Last Ride:

I had where people who were terminally ill would ride up in a rocket ship and burn up in space. I know that’s not real but it always bothered me because I swore I read that somewhere. It was like a space test thing, but I can’t find the article anywhere.

Where We Belong:

I was listening to Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles. I liked that idea of just a bunch of lonely people with no real happy ending. It was heart wrenching, and that book is my take on that kind of story. A group of lonely people who all go to a church at the end, just like how the song ends at a church, and they get hope but not results. That’s how life usually works. You hope for better, but it never comes.

Truth or Die:

I was watching some of those trapped-in-a-room / death game movies. House of 9, Belkam Experiment, Saw series, Cube, Would You Rather, Panic Button, etc. All of them were trash when it came to the story, and I really liked the idea of doing a follow-up to condemned that took what I liked about all those and made it good. It came out well.

Nuke Your Brain:

Had a pretentious streak. My girlfriend of 2 years had dumped me. I was very depressed and needed a book to help me through that. Nobody had a book that I could relate to, so I wrote my own self-help book to help myself. I know that makes no sense, but that’s what I did. My shrink told me I should let it all out on the page and I gave her a copy. She liked it. Thought it was very well written and would help people.

Rat Race:

Pissed off at social media. Wrote a book about it. Next.

Dreamer:

Underappreciated. I really wish this one sold better.

There was a character in Second Sight named Jim. He was really undefined and only showed up in a few scenes inside the Eden, aka the dream world, chapters. He was a wise old man and I really liked him as a character and as a person. He reminded me a lot of my father. My dad had lost two wives to cancer and a third woman he loved before my mom to cancer as well.

So all 3 women he loved at one point died of the same thing. So I wrote it as sort of a book about him, and how he is such a strong person even through all that shit. He survived it, and he loves his kids and grandkids. So I just made an adventure for him. I was originally going to make it turn out that Jim was Rick Levin’s real father, but that never came about in the plot. I’ve also thought about Sam Wolf being Rick’s father or uncle or something. Have some type of familiar connection between all of the main characters of their respective books.

You do finally get to meet Blaine’s parents in Dreamer though. That was a really interesting scene to finally see his backstory told from yet another angle which may or may not be bullshit. Who knows… Blaine is Blaine.

Slash

I had just finished watching Scream 5 and also was deep into listening to the Stephen King’s IT Audiobook. I really wanted to combine the two and make my own thing of “what if Stephen King wrote Scream as a novel?” And that’s what I did. It was a bit of a mess, but that was on purpose. It was supposed to be stupid, meta, overly descriptive, boring in sections, and dumb as hell. That’s what Stephen King’s books are, and that’s what 90% of scream movies are. Just stupid teenage drama with a killer on the loose.

Unreleased / Work in Progress

All Her Stars is a companion book that mixes Dreamer & Bring Me A Dream. Can’t really discuss much beyond that but if you loved those, you’ll love All Her Stars.

Second Sight II. Obvious. Can’t discuss it. It would spoil the first book.

See No Evil. Sequel to The Snow White Murders. Continues that story with a new killer on the loose. It’s really good so far.

Slash II / ICU – New killer in Woodland. It may be the same one as before. Don’t know yet.

Kay is Away – I hate that book. Worst goddamn thing I’ve ever written. Absolutely horrid. Only 1 paperback copy exists and even that’s too much. Fuck that book. I unpublished it.

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See No Evil – Return Eden Scene Preview!

Night fell, and all of the dinner guests had gone home for the evening. Sam laid in his bed next to Jen as he stared up at the ceiling fan, which spun endlessly, rattling its chain with every rotation.
“That was nice tonight,” Jen said.
“Yeah… I think things are finally beginning to look up.”
“A lot better than they were back in Eastport, at least.”
“Yeah… let’s hope that never happens again.”
They both closed their eyes, and sleep came to them quite naturally until Sam was awakened by his cell phone ringing. He woke up and grabbed his phone, barely awake to see that the caller ID read. Unknown number. He dismissed it and tried to go back to sleep… but the phone rang again. The same result. An unknown number. He dismissed it once more, closing his eyes again, even tighter this time.
One more time, the phone rang, and his eyes were wide open. He reached over and looked at the caller ID again. It said “Unknown Number” as it buzzed in his hand. He swiped up on the call button and put it up to his ear.
“Wolf…” he said in a tone groggy enough to make the person on the other end question if he was asleep or completely sloshed.
“Help me…” a quiet and soft voice said on the other end.
“What?” Sam asked.
“Help me… Please… Don’t let them kill me….”
Sam looked at his phone, seeing the time was 2:30AM.
“Where are you?” Sam asked.
“I’m right here… I see you….”
“You see me?”
“Yes…”
“Where are you?”
The phone crackled a bit before another voice came on. A much darker, more sinister voice. One that sounded familiar to him, but he couldn’t place who or where it came from.
“Wherever you want me to be,” the voice said as the phone beeped and hung up.
Sam rolled out of bed quickly and reached in his top drawer for his gun. A 38 snub nose he kept just in case of a break-in or something else going on. Something just like this.
He put his back against the wall and grabbed for the chain above his head that would turn on the ceiling fan. He reached and reached but felt nothing. He looked up, and there was no fan. Just a black void above him.
He took his phone, turned on the flashlight, and scanned the room. It looked the same as before, and when he looked up at the ceiling, he saw snow. Pale, white snow. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and then another. He knew what this meant, and it meant it was all coming back. He was back in Eden.
“Goddamn it… not this again,” He said.
He kept his gun steady and walked out of the room. The door opened right into a hallway, the same hallway from the home he had left back in Eastport. The long winding hallway led into a large open living room with a kitchen at the end, only separated by a wall of wooden bars that were there for decoration.
He looked to his left and saw Abby’s door. The same door that led to her childhood bedroom. The same room she ate, slept, and dreamed in from the age of 1 all the way til 15 when they left this god-forsaken place. He peeked inside and saw her room, just as they had left it two years ago, covered in that pale white snow.
“Abby… are you in there?” he said softly.
No response. He peeked in a little farther and saw nothing out of the ordinary except for the snow, of course. He knew damn well that it wasn’t real snow. It was ash. He turned back down the hallway and went toward the living room, making his way through, checking each corner for anything, and he found nothing. Just the same old apartment covered in snow.
“Why… Why this? Why now? Why can’t this nightmare end?”
He walked to the exit door and threw it open, looking both ways before leaving. On the outside, he found a long hallway that went in two directions. Left and right. Left led to 10 doors, 5 on each side. The other way led to a stairway that went down to the lower floors.
The windows were boarded up, and the only thing he could see was bright white on the outside. He figured there was nothing out there, just another void, just like when he was dragged into Eden the first time to save Dr. Morris. Was he trapped again inside Eden? Or was this something else?
He made his way down the stairs with his gun drawn and at the bottom of the stairs he could see an old lady covered in a blue Farasha dress and a matching head dress.
“Hey… wait!” Sam said.
The woman did not stop; she simply continued away from Sam and the staircase. At the bottom lay double doors which were boarded shut with large planks and behind him led to another set of double doors that seemed a bit tilted sideways.
He followed her slowly making sure every step he took was calculated and every part of the floor would hold his weight. He had no idea what to expect on the other side of those double doors, but he knew that Eden was always full of surprises. He learned that too well back in Eastport. At that moment he realized that it really didn’t matter where he was, Eden would follow him.
He passed through the double doors and saw the woman sitting at an old piano. She played Fur Elise softly in the distance and around half way through she stopped and as she stopped Sam paused as well. She began playing again, and the sound of a church organ came out.
It was a very soft melody that repeated over and over. He knew he had heard it somewhere. Somewhere inside one of the Cyra temples from when he was just a boy.
The mellody continued and he felt at peace as long as it played. He came into the room with the masked woman and listened to her continue her impromptu concert. He listened and enjoyed every second of the music, and when she was done she looked down… and tears hit the piano keys.
Sam stood up to check on her as she stopped moving for quite some time and the tears continued to fall on the keys. When he got to her and reached out to put a hand on back to comfort her, as she did him, she simply disappeared and never returned. Where did she go?
Where did the woman who gave him so much comfort and safety go? She had abandoned him and left him all alone to be trapped within Eden all alone again. He knew he would wake up from the dream, but he wondered if the woman was ever real to begin with or if she was just the dream world playing tricks on his mind again.
He sat at the keys and attempted to play the mellody himself. The chords came out softly and simply. B Flat, F Sharp Flat, A, and E minor came softly from his hands. The notes came softly with a ghostly whisper and he felt relaxed for the first time in years. He continued to play the chords over and over with little arpeggio runs complimenting them and after what he perceived as an hour he stopped.
“That was beautiful…” A soft voice said behind him.
Sam turned to see a girl standing behind him. She was around 5’6, with medium length black hair with blue tips. She was around 25, slender, and very pretty with dark makeup. She was your typical goth girl, and for some reason he felt he had seen her before.
“Thanks…” he said.
“Did you write it?” She asked.
“I’m not sure. I just kind of let it come out naturally. Improvised really.”
She smiled.
“Yeah… Where am I?” Sam asked.
“Does that really matter?” She said.
“I’ve been here before. I know it’s called Eden, but I don’t know anything else about it. It’s the dream world. I already had one run in with this place before. This exact location too.”
“And what does that information give you? Does it bring you happiness or comfort? Comfort in knowing that this is all a dream?”
“Not really… Last time I was here it went a lot worse than it’s going right now. Last time I was dealing with hellscapes, giant black widow spiders, swarms of hornets the size of Saint Bernards. Whatever the fuck a Gloom is. It wasn’t exactly fun. I barely made it out then.”
“Well you don’t have to worry about those things anymore. That’s not the reason you are here.”
“Why am I here then?”
“To find peace… Peace within the darkness of your heart. The only way you will find inner peace and leave this place is if you find what you’ve been looking for here the entire time.”
“I came here looking for Dr. Morris. As far as I know he’s still in Eastport running his clinic.”
“Maybe it’s time you found yourself… but you have all the time in the world for that. Take care…”

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YouTube Archive Coming Soon

I am uploading all my old Johnny Fox, Falcopunch64, and FoxDie content to YouTube now. It’s going to take a really long time since it’s hundreds of videos but check back every so often and see what’s new. You can subscribe now at Jack Pierce – YouTube

Drama content & topical videos will not be included. That would just be a waste of time.

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See No Evil (Sam Wolf Book #2) – Chapter 1

I keep having false starts with the next Sam Wolf Novel. The first one obviously being The Snow White Murders. Here’s another try. It’s not edited at all, don’t see a point in doing that until the first draft is complete. But here’s a peek at what I got right now.

Lorenzo Marker walked through the dark alley that connected Hickory Drive and Marlow Avenue. It was a dark, narrow passage between two buildings that smelled of stale urine and wet garbage. 

It had been raining off and on all day, but the smells never really left downtown Richmond. They were just part of the ambiance. Lorenzo could barely smell it after three months of living in his complex. It had just become another background detail that gave the area its charm.

He lived in the apartment complex on Hickory, where the two main entrances to the apartment were the fire escape and the side door. He sometimes took the fire escape for a slightly more pleasant view of the city. He could see the ballpark down the road if he stopped at his exit door. 

Sometimes he would stand there and just look up at the stars. The only people who noticed him were the homeless people who came to the alleyway to drop their pants and leave presents for the garbage men to clean up.

He took the stairs this time and, after going up three flights in his old apartment building, had seen better days. The door at the top of the stairs was unlocked. He paused for a moment and wondered if he had forgotten to lock his door on his way out. 

He could have sworn that he locked it. He thought back for a few seconds trying to retrace his steps that morning, but nothing came. It was just a blur, really. Nothing remarkable happened that day. He just did his usual routine. Get up, shower, grab a pop tart, and out the door he went to work to be on the assembly line at 7AM.

He opened the door and walked in. A single bulb hung from the center of a dusty ceiling fan above his head. There were two dirty windows and white walls that were freshly painted before he moved in 3 months ago. 

An old tube television sat on one side table with a stack of newspapers beside it. He rarely looked at the papers. They came to his door from the previous tenants’ subscription, and he simply used them as decoration. 

On the other end stood a chair covered in dust. He didn’t have much furniture. Not that he couldn’t afford it. There was plenty of perfectly good stuff being given away on Craigslist in the city, but he didn’t want to have to be the one to drag a 3 cushion couch up 3 flights of stairs so 0 other people would sit on it. 

He rarely had guests and no roommates to speak of. He had moved to get away from having roommates. He was tired of cleaning up after their trash and messes that attracted ants. He couldn’t even buy cookies anymore out of fear that those damned ants would just come and swarm them. They had done it before.

He looked around the apartment and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just a clutter of boxes that were never unpacked, dirty clothes that needed to be washed for over a week, and a couple of playboy magazines that he kept by his bedside. 

He lit a cigarette and exhaled deeply. He hadn’t had a chance to smoke all day. They used to let you smoke on the job, but that was until the city came in and banned indoor smoking entirely. 

He knew his landlord didn’t care if he smoked in the apartment anyway. It was a dump in the worst part of the city, to begin with. He was happy to have a tenant who would pay the rent and not burn the place down.

He went to the bathroom with the cigarette in his mouth and stripped. He had just finished a 12-hour shift and let the water run for a bit before plugging the tub. It took a while for the water to heat up on his floor. 

He tossed his cigarette in the toilet, and once the tub was full, he laid down in it and let out a deep sigh. The warm water felt incredible on his achy bones, and he closed his eyes, letting all his troubles leave him. 

He had grabbed his phone and turned on the Joe Rogan podcast which had been his favorite for quite some time. He especially liked the topics about the music industry. He knew that the industry was untrustworthy and was more of a hindrance than an ally in late 2022, but he still enjoyed listening to the tales of rock stars and rappers from days gone by. 

He enjoyed hearing their horror stories about being on the road and label screwjobs. He made mental notes of all of them. He wouldn’t fail like they did for some contract that screwed him royally. Not a chance.

He slipped deeper into the tub, and after a few minutes, he started to hear a faint noise from his living room. He opened his eyes and looked outside. He saw nothing, but he heard a faint tapping in the distance. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

He thought it was probably some rat. The place had rats climbing in the walls, and he had to get used to it. He heard them squeaking and dying inside the walls as they were trapped by the new insolation. They had nowhere to go, so they suffocated and died drowning in fiberglass foam. 

The tapping became louder, and he heard scratching along the floor. It must have been a cat. Alley cats were not an uncommon site in his apartment complex. He had one that he was quite fond of that came by often, named Charlie. He was a white and gray cat who often joined him for dinner. He would eat a bowl of ramen, and Charlie would have a bowl of milk.

“Charlie! I hear ya out there. I forgot to get milk. I’ll get you some tomorrow.”

The scratching from the other room continued growing louder and louder.

“Charlie. You better not get some girl cat knocked up. She might come for you for child support, ya know? Amanda has my ass all kinds of fucked up right now.”

The noise grew louder. It was too close. Too loud to be a cat. It was more like footsteps now. He took the rag off his face and then.. darkness.

“What the fuck?” Lorenzo said.

The pain in his eyes was immense. He scrambled and struggled in the tub. He grabbed his face and felt what felt like gloves there burying it’s leather into his eye sockets. 

He screamed and flailed in the tub until he heard another sound. A much louder sound. It was like a canon going off and he felt a harsh pain coming from his chest. He took a breath in but only blood came back. He was drowning in his own blood from a gunshot wound to the chest.

His hearing became more distant, and the pain slowly faded away. His last word was “God…” he didn’t have enough time or life left in him to ask for forgiveness. He never even saw it coming.

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