As some of you may remember, I featured Jason Darrick as a Friday Hottie. He’s also earned the spot as my hero for the year. But that’s not enough for this voracious blog owner, nope, I even made him cough up a tale of a Halloween gone awry. Check out this super guy’s blog for freebies and other awesome things or follow him: Twitter and Facebook.
Before I get to the trauma, check out his collection of short horror stories — it’s FREE Thursday, October 25th! So you have NO bleeding reason not to grab it. Unless fear is against your religion…
The debut collection of short horror stories from emerging talent, Jason Darrick. The stories guide the reader on a torturous journey of human pain and suffering, and are best consumed as a whole. Each s
tory may stand alone, bringing the reader five visceral, emotional and cerebral tales.
Drip begins and ends in the blink of an eye. Brian certainly won’t see it coming.
The Figure stalks Peter from afar, then makes its way dangerously closer. Can you trust your senses when the shadows come alive?
The Forest is home to a few survivors, for now. What happens when food is scarce and dangers abound?
Hanna is a cruel bitch who’ll kill to get her way, or die trying. Vincent has always been the dominant one, will he be able to handle the switch?
Mr. Vore is dedicated to helping men lose all the weight that they want, one bit of flesh at a time. How far will one man go to reinvent his body?
Here’s Jason’s “Hallowe’en” Trauma Llama tale:
My harrowing story begins one Thursday afternoon, long ago. It was a regular day, or so I thought. I wasn’t always as into Halloween as I am now, so many folks may not believe this, but that Thursday night was the big night, and I hadn’t remembered. When one forgets that a costume is required for an evening’s festivities, one often does not have a costume readily available.
That I forgot my costume isn’t the traumatic part, this post would suck otherwise. I managed to throw together a black outfit with slicked hair and a pretty badass cape (for a last minute desperate shot) and hit the town as Bela Lugosi’s fifth-grade nephew.
The night was absolutely awesome, I caught up with some friends and we made the rounds together. Well, that was the plan, but my buddy’s clumsy footing caused my night to come to a crashing halt, as he stepped on my cape, which ripped right from the collar. I now looked like the 70s reject version of Dracula. Bare in mind, I wasn’t yet a teenager, and having my Halloween costume ruined was kind of a big deal. I cried. Not proud, but I did.
This story has a happy ending, as being a pre-teen, I was actually a huge fan of the original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (F-you Michael Bay), and I had a mask at home, which wasn’t too far from where the incident occurred. I raced home, threw on my Michelangelo headgear (while still wearing all black) and ran up the street as some kind of hybrid Goth-Turtle thing. That may have proven traumatic for some of the homeowners based on their reactions.
That’s my story, thanks for being my couch, Anya.