Richard Schiver

Author: RichardSchiver

  • Fridays 5 with Thomas F Monteleone

    Fridays 5 with Thomas F Monteleone

    1. When did you first consider yourself a writer?

    A: When I was 12 years old and spent a summer’s worth of lawn cutting money on a Royal manual typewriter.

    2. What is the hardest part of writing?

    A: Forcing yourself to do it every day… even on the days when you have other stuff you must do or don’t feel the urging of the muse.

    3. How did you feel upon publication of your first completed project?

    A: When I saw my name on the cover of the March 1973 issue of Amazing Science Fiction magazine, I realized I had accomplished something that 99% of the population would never do. And most likely would never think to do.

    4. In addition to writing, what else are you passionate about?

    A: I am passionate about my family. Son, daughter, grandkids, and wife are simply everything to me. (. . . And bourbon isn’t so bad either. )

    5. If you could ask any author, living or dead, one question, what would it be?

    A: I’d ask Ayn Rand why she allowed John Galt to speak for more than 100 pages.

    .

    Thomas F Monteleone has been a professional writer since 1972, and 4-time winner of the Bram Stoker Award. He has published more than 100 short stories in numerous magazines and anthologies. His stories have been nominated for many awards and have appeared in many best-of-the-year compilations.

    https://www.amazon.com/Thomas-F-Monteleone/e/B000AP5O92

  • Weekly Writing Challenge 11/05/2025

    Weekly Writing Challenge 11/05/2025

    Eric took a moment to read through the names, stopping when he came to a familiar one. Joshua Watkins. Jared’s last name was Watkins. The connection sent a chill across the flesh of his arms, and he brushed it off. It was obviously just a coincidence.

    He turned to Jared who stood right beside him. “Did you have any relatives who worked in this mine?”

    “I don’t think so,” Jared replied. He stepped around Eric to look at the plaque, the beam of the flashlight stopping on the name in question. He shook his head. “It doesn’t ring any bells.”

    Eric shrugged as he turned away from the plaque and approached the shaft at the back of the mine. This was how they would get down to the natural cave. Someone in the past had left a rope to make the descent easier, but Eric chose to use his own. He didn’t know how long the other rope had been in place, and with the amount of moisture present in the mine he wasn’t sure how sturdy it would be. Halfway down would be a bad time to find out it couldn’t hold him. Using the pinions already in place he secured his own rope and tossed the bag containing it into the black depths below. After a few seconds the sound of the bag hitting the bottom came to him.

    According to his map once they reached the lower level it would get a lot easier as there were ramps built into the interconnected shafts that would allow them to walk down to the cave. Once they were done they would use an ascender for climb back up the rope.

    “Are you ready for this?” Eric asked as he turned to look at Jared.

    Jared nodded, but Eric could tell by the expression on his face he wasn’t really ready. They would have to rappel down to the next level that was only fifty feel below.

    “I don’t know man, I mean I know you taught me how to do this, but it’s so dark down there.”

    “You’ll have the light on your helmet, as long as you don’t get in a hurry everything will be all right.”

    They had rappelled several times from a nearby cliff and Eric had proven to be adept at doing so.

    “I know, I need to quit being such a baby and just get it over with,” Eric said. He stepped up to the lip of the shaft and after turning on his light he peered over the edge. “It doesn’t look too bad, but I’ll need your help hooking up, I want to make sure I do it right.”

    “No problem brother, let’s get you set up.”

    Eric turned his back to the shaft and Jared hooked the rope through the brake bar rack attached to the front of his harness. Once they were done Jared held onto Eric while he carefully added his weight to the rope.

    “This doesn’t seem too bad.”

    “Just remember, lift the lever to speed up and push it down to slow your descent.”

    Eric nodded then pushed off the lip while lifting the friction bar. He dropped from sight with an exhilarating shout and Jared looked over the edge to watch as he descended. In a matter of moments Eric reached the bottom and looked up at Jared, momentarily blinding him with his headlight.

    “Are you good?”

    “I’m good man, I’m off the rope, come on down. This is great.”

    Jared turned and wound the rope through his own rack and stepped off the edge. He stepped off the edge and dropped about twelve feet before swinging back to the wall and bringing down the bar to stop him. As he did he heard someone talking below him.

    “What did you say?” He shouted.

    To be continued!

  • The History and Beliefs Behind Superstitions

    The History and Beliefs Behind Superstitions

    I want to take a break from talking about writing all the time, and share those things that tend to come up while researching. Today I’d like to dive into superstitions.

    Even as technology improves, superstitions are still part of our lives. For example, many buildings skip the thirteenth floor because people think it brings bad luck. Pilots often treat their planes as if they are alive and follow special routines before flying. In the military, superstitions are common. Navy members believe it’s unlucky to wash a coffee cup—though some just like to keep it “seasoned.” Tank crews sometimes think apricots cause bad luck, like equipment breaking down. I didn’t experience this myself, but I’ve heard stories about it. In the Navy, whistling is thought to bring bad weather. It’s also considered bad luck to look back at a helicopter after getting out. Some scout snipers wear a bullet called a “Hog’s Tooth” for good luck and protection.

    The word “Abracadabra” might surprise you. While magicians have long used it on stage, it has an even longer history as a magical charm. It first appeared in writings from the second century BC. The word comes from shortened Hebrew words meaning Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Other references to the word align it with Abraxas, a snake-footed god worshipped in Alexandria before Christianity.

    People believed the word “Abracadabra” could protect them from illness and bad luck. In the seventeenth century, some in London wore amulets with the word to guard against the plague, according to Daniel Defoe’s Journal of the Plague Years.

    So, next time you hear someone say “Abracadabra,” remember that some believe saying it out loud can summon strong supernatural powers.

    What unusual superstitions have you heard about? Feel free to share your stories in the comments below!

  • Fridays 5 with Eric A Shelman

    Fridays 5 with Eric A Shelman

    1 When did you first consider yourself a writer?

    A. In 1992, I sold a short story called The Crossing for $2.00. That was the moment I felt I was a writer.

    2 What is the hardest part of writing?

    A. The hardest thing about being a writer is finding the right story. A story you’re not excited about will not inspire you to write.

    3 How did you feel upon publication of your first completed project?

    A. At the completion and release of my first full-length book, it was a major milestone … a hump that once you’re over, the floodgates open and the next and the next are easier.

    4 In addition to writing, what else are you passionate about?

    A. My band, The Mood Zombies. Check us out at http://www.reverbnation.com/themoodzombies

    5 If you could ask any author, living or dead, one question, what would it be?

    A. I don’t really have any questions for other authors anymore. Not after 26 books!

    Eric lives in southwest Florida with his wife, Linda. A fan of horror since he was young, he’s been writing since his teens. Growing up his room was filled with monster models, including The Wolfman, Dr. Phibes, Frankenstein’s Monster, and many others. His first novel, A Reason To Kill, was about a serial killer before he moved on to his true passion with The Witches of Laguna Beach. In 2009, after a 12 year hiatus, he wrote Dead Hunger. He currently has over 20 books to his credit, all but two of which are novels.

    Eric can be found online at his amazon author page

    He also shares his stories on his You Tube channel.

  • Weekly Writing Challenge 10/29/2025

    Weekly Writing Challenge 10/29/2025

    While working on today’s episode yesterday morning the purpose of the story presented itself to me. Quite frankly I can write novels easier than I can write short stories, hence the reason I started doing this challenge. To force me to buckle down and work on a short story until it was done. I chose to follow the alphabet format and have completed the first drafts of stories up to the letter G. As time allows I work on rewrites and edits of the past stories as I try to whip them into some semblance of a real story worth a read. One of these days I’ll release them for everyone to read.

    Without further adieu let’s get into the continuing saga of Jared and Eric in Hell Hole.

    Story begins where it left off.

    They didn’t look sturdy enough to support the weight pressing down upon them, and it appeared the wood had rotted away on the surface, making them half the size they had originally been.

    “You know why they call it hell hole?” Jared asked.

    Eric shrugged. “Rumor has it the mine went so deep you had to be careful which way you swung your pick.” He stopped as he maneuvered around an old coal car whose steel sides had rusted away to nothing, leaving a flat surface covered in debris.

    Eric pushed past the coal car, coming to a section of tunnel that appeared much older than what they passed through earlier. Here the jagged walls and ceiling were brown and in some places water leaked through the various cracks and crevices that covered the entire surface, filling the space with the incessant sound of dripping water.  It looked like the entire ceiling was about to collapse and he wanted to turn around right then and there.

    He was beginning to get irritated with Jared’s endless whining. If he didn’t need him as bad as he did he would never have spoken to him. He was no more than a means to an end, that of his continued survival. Promises had been made, so promises had to be kept.

    “Why?” Jared asked.

    With a deep sigh Eric turned back to face him and when he did he was struck by a deep anger at the lengths he had to go to. “Because you might hit the devils door,” he replied with a laugh.

    “That’s not funny,” Jared said, turning in a complete circle as if he were afraid someone, or something, were sneaking up on him.

    “Come on, let’s go, you said you wanted to see this room of crystals.” Eric turned and started walking into the depths of the mine. He heard Jared scrambling to get around the abandoned coal car.

    “Wait for me,” Jared said as he rushed to keep up.

    Eric smiled, satisfied he had set the hook firmly. Once they got deeper into the mine Jared would be attached to his hip, which was just as well, he didn’t want him wandering off until he’d gotten what he came for.

    The mine had operated from the mid seventeen hundred until 1890 when a cave in sealed off the lower portion of the mine, opening the passageway to the r0om of crystals. They called them the devil’s jewels, locked away deep beneath the earth.

    The miners of the time had been very superstitious, in addition to being God fearing men. But when the only exit from a mine collapses, and God does little to save you, promises made to others became sacred vows.

    Eric had learned all of this from his research into the mine when he first heard about the crystal room. Sure, he was an explorer willing to take chances, but they were calculated risks made only after he was certain about the facts. He had visited the crystal room himself, along with the mouth of the section of the mine where the collapse occurred. Someone had placed a plaque nearby listing the names of the men entombed within. It was rumored if you listened closely you could still hear panicked pounding coming from the other side.

    To be continued!

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