Richard Schiver

Tag: horror fiction

  • Weekly Writing Challenge 09/03/2025

    Welcome back to my weekly writing challenge where I continue work on my short story God’s Chosen. To the left you will notice a permanent link to the Weekly Writing Challenge page where the story is updated. If you would like to read the story in its entirety up to this point head on over that way. Without further delay I give you the next 621 words of the current story God’s Chosen.

    God’s Chosen

    Contd!

    His sleep was anything but restful. Fitfully he tossed and turned as the days events replayed themselves in his mind before sleep finally claimed him. He found himself trapped in a coffin, the silk lining pressing against his face as he pushed uselessly against the lid held in place by nails and six feet of earth. Unable to see even his hand in front of his face he started hyperventilating as he kicked at the bottom of the casket with his feet. It all felt so real as he scratched at the lid, it even felt like he’d gotten splinters under his fingernails. A persistent whine filled the emptiness around him as he struggled against the cloying nature of the lining that had become wrapped around his head. He pulled at the fabric as a scream slowly built up in his chest.

    A single thought drove through his mind. They had abandoned him in the grave while they returned home to enjoy the fruits of life. The taste of fresh mountain air carrying the crisp scent of the coming snow. The warmth of a fire roaring in the hearth. The touch of another living being. These things he would never know again, trapped in the eternal night of the grave, alone. This last was the most frightening and the scream that had been building since the realization of his predicament escaped its prison and roared from his chest, shattering his throat as he sat up in his bed.

    He looked around his small room with uncomprehending eyes, aware of his clothes clinging to his sweaty flesh as the last of the terror from his dream drained away.

    A knock came at his door, “are you okay sir?”

    It was his housekeeper, Mrs. Bailey.

    “Yes,” he replied in a shaky voice, “I just had a bad dream, I’ll be okay.”

    “My gramma always said dreams were a brief glimpse of our future,” Mrs. Bailey said from the other side of the closed door.

    “I’ll be okay Mrs. Bailey, thank you.” He certainly hoped this nightmare would not prove to be his future. We all died. It was this knowledge that separated them from the animals of the fields and the forest. To be aware of your impending death was both a blessing and a curse. Knowing it was coming allowed you to prepare yourself for your inevitable end, to get right with the lord and assure your place in heaven.   Everybody died.

    Blessed and holy is the one who shares in the first resurrection. The passage came to him and offered some comfort. The first resurrection would be those who served the lord faithfully. As a man of god, he imagined he would be included in this first group when it came, as the second death would hold no power over them. Yet a small part of him knew it was blasphemous to assume the life he led would be sufficient to secure his place at the lord’s side.

    A shout from outside drew his attention and he pushed himself off his bed to cross to the window. From his vantage point he had a clear view of main street alight in the shifting orange glow of the torches burning along both sides. A stranger was staggering down the center of the street and as they came into view he recognized them as Boris Jantz. Am immigrant from Germany who had been hanged three days ago for rustling cattle. The noose that took his life was still around his neck, the frayed end dangling between his legs.

    A gunshot rang out and Boris staggered back momentarily before pushing on. Another shot rang out as an inarticulate cry sliced across the night. To be continued!

    Free Book

    I’m looking or my people. Are you it? Sign up for my monthly newsletter and get your free copy of Zomething Dead This Way Comes. If you enjoy my work do nothing and every month you will receive an email containing either a free short story, or a sneak peek at a work in progress. If you don’t like my work, unsubscribe and keep the free book. This book is only available via my newsletter.

    Jimmy and his friends have come to the roof of their apartment building to watch the passage of the comet Omega9. Little do they know the dust from the comet contains ancient organisms that are about to turn their world upside down.

    They’re already dealing with tough times, but things get even crazier when Robert’s mom is attacked by his dad and turns into a zombie. This is only the first act in a chain of events that plunges the world into the zombie apocalypse. Forcing the boys to figure out how to survive in this new, terrifying reality.

    Trapped between the undead, and the evil living in the building, their future becomes more perilous until Robert makes a startling discovery in the basement. In the end it’s all about survival, friendship, and facing their fears as they fight to protect each other and their home.

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  • Upon The Shoulders of Giants

    Upon The Shoulders of Giants

    I’ve heard new writers complain that there are no more good story ideas out there. That everything that could be, has already been done. I wholeheartedly disagree with this. While there are only seven central archetypal narratives that form the basis of every story ever told, each writer brings their own unique perspective of the world to work at hand.

    The seven narratives are: Overcoming the Monster, Rags to Riches, The Quest, Voyage and Return, Comedy, Tragedy, and Rebirth.

    When we retell a particular story we are in essence as writers, standing upon the shoulders of giants. We are taking existing ideas and retelling them from our own unique perspective.

    The most successful authors of our time understand this and use it to their advantage. To cite just a few.

    Stephen King’s novel Fairy Tale features many familiar fairy tale elements including a royal family, a cursed princess, and a monstrous guardian. Typical for his work he leans into the darker, more gruesome nature of the Brother’s Grimm originals. With references to Rumpelstiltskin, Hansel and Gretel, and Little Red Riding Hood.

    Stephen King’s Dark Tower series took its inspiration from Robert Browning’s poem “Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came,” J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, Arthurian legend, and spaghetti Western films like The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.  He envisioned the Gunslinger as the man with no name featured in many of Sergio Leone’s westerns.

    Dean Koontz  is currently tackling the Frankenstein story with Prodigal Son book 1 of his Frankenstein series.

    I’ve heard of a rumored quote from Richard Matheson that contrasted the largely psychological, ambiguous atmosphere of Hill House with his own novel, which presented a haunted house where “you damned well know it’s haunted” I’ve been unsuccessful in tracking down the quote though I’ll leave it at that.

    Each of these writers stood upon the shoulders of giants to bring their own vision of a classic to life. The examples are endless.

    I’m currently reading Dan Franklin’s newest novel, Steel Machines. A retelling of the Golem story that has been redone multiple times. If you were to look deeper into every new story ever told, you would find it has its origins in the past and the author is in a sense standing upon the shoulders of giants.

    So, the next time you hear an author complain there’s no new plots or story ideas out there, remind them that the innovation comes not from the plot, or central idea, but in the unique way they tell a story.

    Free Book

    I’m looking or my people. Are you it? Sign up for my monthly newsletter and get your free copy of Zomething Dead This Way Comes. If you enjoy my work do nothing and every month you will receive an email containing either a free short story, or a sneak peek at a work in progress. If you don’t like my work, unsubscribe and keep the free book. This book is only available via my newsletter.

    Jimmy and his friends have come to the roof of their apartment building to watch the passage of the comet Omega9. Little do they know the dust from the comet contains ancient organisms that are about to turn their world upside down.

    They’re already dealing with tough times, but things get even crazier when Robert’s mom is attacked by his dad and turns into a zombie. This is only the first act in a chain of events that plunges the world into the zombie apocalypse. Forcing the boys to figure out how to survive in this new, terrifying reality.

    Trapped between the undead, and the evil living in the building, their future becomes more perilous until Robert makes a startling discovery in the basement. In the end it’s all about survival, friendship, and facing their fears as they fight to protect each other and their home.

    Sign Me Up!

  • Fridays 5 with Rick Hautala

    1. When did you first consider yourself a writer?

    A.  That’s a tough one because while I always had what I’d call an “artistic sensibility” (i.e. I didn’t fit very well into normal life). At first, I wanted to be a painter–an artist–an illustrator. Then I realized I could do with words what I struggled to do with paints. I think by the time my tenth novel was published, I figured I was a real writer and it wasn’t a fluke.

    2. What is the hardest part of writing?

    A.  Ideas are easy for me. And writing is a struggle, but a fun one. Revision is always fun. And editing is tedious but necessary. But the absolute hardest part of writing for me is developing the ideas once I get them. That’s where you have to fill in the blanks and piece the story together to get an outline or, at least, a clear idea of where you’re going. That is the worst and hardest. After that, it’s easier … but never easy.

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

    A.  I was thrilled, of course, but I was also nervous. I felt like I was an imposter. It was like standing in the middle of a shopping mall with no clothes on. I was insecure enough about my work (and still am) to not allow myself to enjoy … to savor the moment.

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

    A.  Reading, of course. You can’t be a writer and not read–good books, bad books, indifferent books … every kind of book to see and learn what the craft is all about. Other than reading and writing–my family and politics. My friend Tom Monteleone calls me a “leftie, liberal, tree-hugging, granola-crunching, long-haired hippie.” That works for me … and my politics reflect that.

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

    A.  I’d ask Shakespeare not where he got his ideas, but how he developed them … or I’d ask Hawthorne why he seemed to be depressed all the time.

    About the author.

    Rick arrived on the horror scene in 1980 with many of his early novels published by Zebra books. He wrote and published over 90 novels and short stories from the early 1980s on. In 2011 the Horror Writers Association awarded Rick and Joe R. Lansdale the Bram Stoker Award for Lifetime Achievement. Sadly, on March 21 of 2013 we lost Rick to a heart attack. For me personally he was a writer who was always willing to help those of us starting out, and though I never met him personally I counted him among my friends.

    Rick’s work is still available at Amazon, stop by and check it out by clicking on Rick’s photo on the right.

    If you write in any of the speculative fiction genres and would like to participate, answer the five questions above and send them, along with a brief author bio and an author photo no larger than 200px by 200px to rschiver@gmail.com.

  • Weekly Writing Challenge

    I’ve added another 669 words to the continuing story God’s Chosen. I hope you enjoy my work as much as I enjoy writing it. I wrote this Tuesday morning, and you’re getting it raw and unedited.

    God’s Chosen (contd.)

    Derrick fell back with a cry of terror, the sudden movement coupled with Mrs. Franklin’s added weigh threw Reverend Wickes off balance. She felt like a sack of concrete and was just as graceful. They both went down in a jumbled heap and Reverend Wickes struggled to escape Mrs. Franklin’s grasp as they rolled across the ground. She scratched him across his left cheek, a jagged fingernail tearing open a flap of skin that sent a shock of pain through his body as he untangled himself and rolled away.

    He jumped back to his feet, one hand pressed over his injured cheek as blood flowed down his face. He felt the flap of skin beneath his palm and was struck by a sudden sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Mrs. Franklin rolled back and forth on the ground, struggling to get up, yet unable to do so.

    “What’s wrong with her?” Derrick said, his question followed by the wail of an approaching siren. With squealing brakes, the ambulance arrived, and two paramedics emerged. One crossed to Mrs. Franklin still thrashing around on the ground, while the other approached Reverend Wickes.

    Reverend Wickes recognized the paramedic attending to him as the daughter of Joshua Billings who served on the board for the town of Whispering Pines. He couldn’t recall her name, of course she rarely attended church, unlike her father who was always present.

    “How’s your father?” Reverend Wickes asked her as she tended to his wound.

    She smiled in a way that tried to warn him off the subject, but he had already opened that can of worms. “He’d my dad, and that about sums it up, you’ve got a nasty wound, how did it happen?” There was genuine concern in her voice and Reverend Wickes readily opened up, explaining what brought them to this point.

    “That’s odd,” she said as he finished telling his story. “Wouldn’t they have embalmed her after her death?”

    Reverend Wickes had never considered this, and he found his gaze drifting over to where Mrs. Franklin struggled against the other paramedic. If she hadn’t been buried alive, what else could have happened? His train of thought was interrupted when the other paramedic, a young man he did not know, joined them. Jenny, the name struck him out of the blue, he’d been distracted enough to recall the name of the paramedic caring for him.

    “I don’t understand what’s going on,” he said in a near whisper. “Her respiration is elevated, but there is no pulse, nor is there a heartbeat.”

    “Can we transport her?” Jenny asked.

    “We’ll have to strap her down.”

    “Get the gurney then,” Jenny replied as she finished taping a bandage to his cheek. “I’d have your doctor look at that as soon as possible. I cleaned it up, and used a couple of butterflies to close the wound, but it might need stitches.”

    “I will, thank you, Jenny, tell your father I said hi,” Reverend Wickes said.

    “I don’t see my father that much anymore. You’re welcome and remember to have that looked at.”

    Reverend Wickes watched as Jenny and her partner strapped Mrs. Franklin to the gurney and loaded it in the back of the ambulance. After they were gone he turned to his church where most of the parishioners were gathered on the front lawn, watching the events unfold. There was no sense continuing the sermon he had hoped would end the bullying he knew was taking place in their small corner of the world. Maybe next week he’d have a better chance of instilling some respect for others. As it stood he was tired from his ordeal and only wanted to go home lie down to rest.

    “Everybody go home,” he told the parishioners, noting the happiness on some of their faces at escaping another of his boring sermons. After they left he returned to his own modest home behind the church and wearily climbed the steps to his bedroom where he promptly fell asleep.

    to be continued

    Free Book

    I’m looking or my people. Are you it? Sign up for my monthly newsletter and get your free copy of Zomething Dead This Way Comes. If you enjoy my work do nothing and every month you will receive an email containing either a free short story, or a sneak peek at a work in progress. If you don’t like my work, unsubscribe and keep the free book. This book is only available via my newsletter.

    Jimmy and his friends have come to the roof of their apartment building to watch the passage of the comet Omega9. Little do they know the dust from the comet contains ancient organisms that are about to turn their world upside down.

    They’re already dealing with tough times, but things get even crazier when Robert’s mom is attacked by his dad and turns into a zombie. This is only the first act in a chain of events that plunges the world into the zombie apocalypse. Forcing the boys to figure out how to survive in this new, terrifying reality.

    Trapped between the undead, and the evil living in the building, their future becomes more perilous until Robert makes a startling discovery in the basement. In the end it’s all about survival, friendship, and facing their fears as they fight to protect each other and their home.

    Sign me up!

  • Fridays 5 with William F. Nolan

    When I decided to bring back Fridays 5, I knew for the first few weeks I would share responses I received in the past from those who are no longer with us. First up is William F. Nolan, who we lost in 2021.

    1.) When did you first consider yourself a writer?

    A.)  When I sold my first story to Playboy. At that point, I knew I was a professional. That was in 1956.

    2.) What is the hardest part of writing?

    A.)  Sitting down in front of a sheet of blank paper (or a blank screen nowadays) and filling it with good words is the hardest part.

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

    A.)  Seeing my name in professional print gave me a tremendous lift, and seeing my name in print still gives me much of the same feeling today.

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

    A.)  I love cartooning and sports car racing, and the work of Max Brand.

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

    A.)  Bradbury said that he wanted to be buried on Mars in a Campbell soup can in the “Bradbury Abyss”. I’d ask Ray Bradbury if he found his way home to Mars.

    Website: https://williamfnolan.com/

    Wlliam F. Nolan (1928-2021) wrote mostly in the science fiction, fantasy, and horror genres. Though best known for co-authoring the classic dystopian science fiction novel Logan’s Run with George Clayton Johnson, Nolan authored more than 2000 pieces (fiction, nonfiction, articles and books), and edited 26 anthologies in his 60+ year career.

    An artist, Nolan was born in Kansas City, Missouri, and worked at Hallmark Cards, Inc. and in comic books before becoming an author. In the 1950s, Nolan was an integral part of the writing ensemble known as “The Group,” which included many well-known genre writers, such as Ray Bradbury, Charles Beaumont, John Tomerlin, Richard Matheson, Johnson and others, many of whom wrote for Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone. Nolan is considered a leading expert on Dashiell Hammett, pulps such as Black Mask and Western Story, and was the world authority on the works of prolific scribe Max Brand.

    Among his many awards, he was voted a Living Legend in Dark Fantasy by the International Horror Guild in 2002. During 2006, he was bestowed the honorary title of Author Emeritus by the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, Inc. In 2010, he received the Lifetime Achievement award from the Horror Writers Association.

    On a personal note I knew William only as the person on the other end of the emails he and I exchanged when I was starting to get serious about writing. Sadly I never got the chance to meet him in person. He never hesitated to respond and always had time for my sometimes stupid questions. His book How To Write Horror Fiction will always sit on my desk, within easy reach.

    If you write in the genres of horror, sci-fi, or fantasy, and would like to participate in Fridays 5 drop me a line at rschiver@gmail.com