“Bloodstone” by R.B. Payne

January 21, 2012

Post image for “Bloodstone” by R.B. Payne

Even horror writer J.P. Bloodstone is unprepared for the actual end of the world. Stranded in Beverly Hills, he discovers something far worse than decomposing zombies, vampiric aliens, or infected mutant motorcycle-riding killers. [31min]

Excerpt:

J.P. Bloodstone, horror writer and author of the Ravenhurst: Stronghold of the Vampire series, downed the dregs of his sixth martini and wrapped his lips around the dangerous end of a twelve-gauge shotgun. The acrid taste of steel and gun oil mingled unpleasantly with the fistful of pimento-stuffed olives he’d wedged into the barrel.

Next to his elbow, his iPad rested on the mahogany bar of the Beverly Hills Hotel. He’d prepped a tweet to his loyal (now probably dead) fans when he had been somewhat sober. Delicately balancing the shotgun so as not to blow his head off prematurely, he tapped Tweet.

    a fond firewall. Bloodstone

He was addicted to tweeting and the end of the world hadn’t eased that. Maybe someone was out there. Maybe someone would answer. Maybe…

Probably not.

No one had yet.

Damn! Out of the corner of his eye, he re-read the tweet. Should have been a fond farewell. Stupid fucking automated spelling checker.

Well, what did it matter, anyway?

He tightened his grip on the shotgun. If suicide had been good enough for Mr. Hemingway, it would be good enough for J.P. Bloodstone. The problem was that Bloodstone couldn’t quite reach the trigger with the barrel jammed deep in his mouth.

audiotext

 

Sasha McBrayer January 25, 2012 at 7:56 AM

FANTASTIC story! A real joy.

Heidi Schoen February 27, 2012 at 7:42 AM

Loved the story. I want a sequel.

Niverian March 15, 2012 at 7:49 AM

I really like this story. A fresh take on the “end of the world” concept, both in the sense of “how it happened” and in what would happen to a survivor of the catastrophe. Very well done.

Alicia VanNoy Call April 6, 2012 at 3:52 PM

“A fungal wad of toddler dressed in OshKosh.” <—– This is a piece of fried gold.

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