Analogue of Horror

1. Current Work (Epilogue Sample)
2. Work in Progress (Chapter Snippet)
3. Lizzy Borden... Took An Axe...
4. Evil Dead II
5. High Hopes
6. The Mist
7. Note on Writing

Greetings! Michelle Ian... Native New Englander and Self-Proclaimed Horror Fanatic, dabbling in the Dark Arts of Suspense, Thrillers, and Horror. I also spend my free time sharpening my skills as a creative writer, aspiring to create three-dimensional and emotionally charged characters readers will not only identify with but follow throughout the story. One can also find me on

Instagram. https://www.instagram.com/michelleian_author/.

Goodreads. https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/138913192-michelle-iantosca

A secret never to be shared. A killer seeking vengeance. Is his nightmarish fiction about to become a bloody reality?

Michael Kerrigan is delighted with his success. With his well-received suspense novels putting him on the map, the popular author trades his dark past for meet and greets with adoring fans. But his borrowed peace shatters when a friend he thought he’d buried dead in the ground long ago shows up very much alive… and hellbent on wreaking murderous havoc.

Trapped in a deadly game of cat and mouse, Michael works furiously to uncover the shocking truth while dodging his assailant’s ruthless attacks. And with his sanity splintering as he processes years of suppressed guilt, sacrificing himself may be the only way to protect his loved ones from a crazed enemy’s relentless carnage.

Can Michael undo the sins of yesteryear before he’s the one thrown into a grave?

Self-Publishing: presale late April/first week of May 2023 (Follow up announcement via countdown start on Amazon, Barnes and Noble and wherever E-books are sold)

The young man came to consciousness in total darkness. He lay exposed as he struggled to lift his head off the dampened and cold cement. At first, it seemed as if he were lost in a dream. The black corridor that stretched out before him appeared to have no end, as it called him, deeper into the abyss. The gentle hum of a small generator filled his ears while it worked itself into the surrounding space. His brain instructed his arms and legs to move, but an invisible weight held them in place, making it impossible for him to command them.

Please, God, don’t let anything be broken. He lowered his eyes and assessed each limb, feeling the pulsing ache spread itself deep into his body. A sharp tendril of awareness blossomed, unfolding straight into the center of his mind. And it was then that he decided that if he were going to make a move, he would need to do it fast. The person who had put him here would soon come back for him. It was just a matter of time. His body stuck to the ground beneath him, as if he were somehow anchored to it. Yet that hallucination, unlike the many he’d been having since he awoke, had been easy to dismiss. The reality was his arms were pulled tight against his back, tied in a way that caused the blood flow in his hands to compress and the numbness to seep in. Hands… the image suddenly crept into his mind as he saw a hand reaching out for him, caressing him. The touch had started on the side of his face and then moved across to his lips.

The fingers had been rough but gentle, making their way to his chest and stroking the base of his neck. His hips and legs, however, pulsed with a dull ache, as if someone had been sitting on them, pressing against them with their knees and fists with the intent on holding him down. If he could just get his arms to the front of his body, he could untie himself. I could do it, he thought, through the haze of his own conviction. With the dimensions of his body already measured, he figured he was both limber and fit enough to maneuver his torso in just the right way for it to work. He stretched his shoulders and then his calves to loosen them up while he went over the plan once again in his head.

The pain shifted, spiraling out from the center of his back, its grip reaching well past his hips and straight through into his backside. He slowly twisted his neck from left to right, flinching from the red-hot cord that stretched across his voice box. His first instinct was to raise a hand and soothe his raw and aching throat, but for now, he would just have to ignore it. He told himself that this was the worst of it, that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. I just have to wake myself up… please, God, just let me wake up! He squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten. When he reopened them, it was to the same steely, dank blackness as before, beckoning him to come closer.

How did I get here? He searched his mind, triggering his memory flip switch, as he forced each moment to go back in reverse. After testing the alarm, he locked the doors and made his way over to the parking lot. He’d been alone, always making it a point to send his employees home first before himself. He unlocked his car, got in, and locked it once more. He put the key into the ignition and then, and then what? He couldn’t remember. Afraid to wait any longer, he lifted his head and arched his shoulders back to draw his knees up to his chest. But just as he gathered the momentum he needed to slide his arms out from under his feet, he was blind-sided with an explosive round of excruciating pain. Within an instant, a swarm of razor blade like pinchers worked their way across his wrists and feet, ripping at his flesh. He bit down hard on the leather strap fastened between his teeth and instantly froze. To his surprise, the pain mysteriously lessened. It was then that he realized his restraints were alive only in his disoriented mind. He prodded at the bindings around his wrists with the tips of his fingers, automatically jerking them away at the feel of the first bite.

The barbed wire was attached to something secured alongside his back. It lay coiled around and across his extremities. Its jagged and penetrating teeth now wedged inside him from the struggle, permanently embedded in the soft areas of his flesh. The other miniature cuts created by the friction of his movements continued to ooze as his wrists and feet stayed tightly cuffed around its pointed edges. He kept his body still, as he tried not to dwell on why this was happening to him. After all, he had always been a good person. And he certainly wasn’t the type who did reckless or irrational things. In fact, he had always considered himself to be really quite ordinary, nothing special at all. He stopped, picking up the last thought and then turning it over. That is why this is happening to me, because I won’t be missed… because I am… nothing special. His eyes filled with tears, stinging him with a salty realization as he surrendered himself to this newfound awareness.

As his body lay motionless, he noticed a thin, powdery like substance coating his skin. The film had created a sparse, sticky paste from the mix of his own sweat and blood. Have to get it off me, he thought, willing himself not to panic. Can’t let it get to the bone. He fought against the urge to pass out and drew his hands closer together. The air weighed heavy, each moment a desperate reminder of how suffocating this world had become.

“Just look at you.” The cruel voice from within him rejoiced as it wove itself deep inside his mind like a freshly spun web. “When life strikes the first match, you’d just let yourself burn.”

You find out your childhood friend might just be a serial killer. What would you do? Try to kill him? Or report him to the police that you know won't be able to contain him?

Gabriel Connolly struggles with what’s right. Then, when he’s faced with pure evil, and realizes he has no choice, he tries to drown his soul-less friend in a river. But evil doesn't die.

And that’s just the start of Gabriel's new nightmare. You can’t cheat death, that’s the trick. Even worse, Gabriel realizes he may have passed on supernatural gifts to a heartless killer.

As fiendish plans and unspeakable atrocities are set in motion, Gabriel learns that he alone may hold the key to a series of terrifying events: a secret cabin in the woods, a hidden tomb housing a trail of dismembered corpses, the young killer who lingers in a coma intent on cheating death. And at last, a depraved madman hellbent on saving his only son’s life. Can Gabriel take back the gifts given and triumph over the wicked? And most importantly, will death lay claim in the end?

(Querying Stage-Update following the initial stages of publication.)

Gabriel Connolly sat baking in the crisp Arizona heat with his face poised toward the sun. The temperature-gauge on his dash flashed a steamy 96˚. He considered putting the top back on, as he turned his attention toward the AC. But he quickly decided against it when the light changed over to green. Sometimes, it felt good to burn...

Lizzie Borden took an axe

And gave her mother forty whacks;

And when she saw what she had done

She gave her father forty-one

Lizzie Borden, (Pictured above, left) Lizzie Andrew Borden, (born July 19, 1860, Fall River, Massachusetts, U.S.—died June 1, 1927, Fall River). Lizzy was suspected of murdering her stepmother and father in 1892. Her trial fast became a national sensation.

Borden was the daughter of a well-to-do businessman who married for a second time in 1865, three years after Lizzie’s mother died. Lizzie was popular and engaged in charitable work. Her father was rumored to be the opposite, dour and parsimonious. He was also very wealthy. Lizzie and her older sister Emma were often at odds with him and their stepmother, over said money matters. On a Thursday morning, August 4, 1892, Mr. Borden left home to conduct his business, leaving in the house, besides his wife, their maid Bridget Sullivan and Lizzie herself. (Emma was not at home.) When he returned, he settled on to the couch for a nap. Around the time of 11:15 AM, Lizzie (according to her own testimony) discovered her father dead, repeatedly struck in the head with a sharp instrument. Upstairs his wife’s body was found, even more brutally mutilated. Examination proved that her death had preceded her husband’s by an hour or more. Later it was discovered that Lizzie had tried to purchase prussic acid (a poison) on August 3, and a few days later that she was reported to have burned a dress in a stove. Sullivan reportedly left the house carrying an unexamined parcel. No weapon was found, though an axe found in the basement was suspected.

Lizzie was arrested and tried for both murders in June 1893 but was acquitted, given the failed circumstantial evidence. She was however, nonetheless ostracized by the people of Fall River, Massachusetts, where she continued to live until her death in 1927. The grisly murders inspired a great many books, both serious studies and fiction; Fall River Legend (1948), a ballet by Agnes de Mille; an opera, Lizzie Borden (1965), by Jack Beeson and Kenward Elmslie; and one immortal, if slightly inaccurate, quatrain:

Evil Dead II aka Evil Dead 2: Dead by Dawn is a 1987 American comedy horror film directed by Sam Raimi. The second installment in the Evil Dead Series. it is considered both a remake and a sequel (or "re-quel") to The Evil Dead (1981). It stars Bruce Campbell (The first man of horror that I wanted to marry) as Ash Williams, who vacations with his girlfriend to a remote cabin in the woods. He discovers an audio tape of recitations from a book of ancient texts, and when the recording is played, it unleashes a number of demons which posses and torment him.

This re-quel was just flat out both fun and totally bonkers! From the chainsaw removal of a hand, reanimated and possessed, taxidermy deers, the swallowing of a flying and robust eyeball, gunshots, crazed sophisticuffs, heads offed with shovels, dismemberment of various body parts and a buried and decaying old, demon lady locked in the cellar named Henrietta. That's just for starters. Poor Ash battles the odds and himself with disastrous and horrifically, bloody results. He can't outrun the Evil Dead, brought forth from Necronomicon (The Book of The Dead, of course) Hail to the king baby! My favorite part: Ash saws off his possessed hand with said chainsaw, but does he cry about it. Nope. He just pops over to the vacation shed and fashions himself a new hand, of sorts. He constructs an attachment, hand device that can hold a chainsaw on to his stump. In the other? Don't be a daft puppet, a sawed off shot gun. Groovy! Ash exclaims, so macho!

This song is about looking back on things with certain misgivings as it all comes to an end.

"High Hopes" is a song by English rock band, Pink Floyd, on their fourteenth studio album, The Division Bell. (1994).

Chorus:

The grass was greener
The light was brighter
When friends surrounded
The nights of wonder

A Verse:

Looking beyond the embers of bridges glowing behind us
To a glimpse of how green it was on the other side
Steps taken forwards but sleepwalking back again
Dragged by the force of some inner tide
At a higher altitude with flag unfurled
We reached the dizzy heights of that dreamed of world

It's a hot, lazy day, perfect for a cookout, until you see those strange dark clouds. Suddenly a violent storm sweeps across the lake and ends as abruptly and unexpectedly as it had begun. Then comes the mist...creeping slowly, inexorably into town, where it settles and waits, trapping you in the supermarket with dozens of others, cut off from your families and the world. The mist is alive, seething with unearthly sounds and movements. What unleashed this terror? Was it the Arrowhead Project---the top secret government operation that everyone has noticed but no one quite understands? And what happens when the provisions have run out and you're forced to make your escape, edging blindly through the dim light?

This novella creeps down deep into the very soul. A man and his son find themselves trapped inside a supermarket, surrounded by a thick and penetrating mist. Soon after, things, big buzzing and slithering things attempt to break in, massacring people in its wake. King writes this tale with a cut throat precision. One can't escape, along with the unfortunate souls trapped inside this supernatural hell. The man and his small band of new friends must battle the creatures in the mist along with the insane and bible beating Mrs. Carmody, who believes it is indeed the end of times. The only way out, a human sacrifice. Will she and her band of brainwashed followers demand the life of his son? My hairs stood on end at the way too open ending of this . Beware, the mist...

Edgar Allen Poe:

That which you mistake

for madness

is but an over acuteness

of the senses

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Drop me a line with any comments or suggestions.

Until next time, remember...

YOU SHOULD BE WRITING.

Pink Floyd High Hopes

Evil Dead II https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Evil_Dead_II

Bruce Campbell as Ash in the Evil Dead Series (Featured Evil Dead II)

The Mist: A Story by Stephen King

Lizzy Borden https://www.britannica.com/biography/Lizzie-Borden-American-murder-suspect