Books, horror

This Is One Day October

One Day October is my first novel, published a little over two years ago.  The goal was to go back to horror roots in a way, focusing on classics like vampires (non sparkly), werewolves, and haunted houses.  In an effort to connect them, the book takes place over the course of a single day and is told through six short stories all intersecting at a number of points.  From the synopsis:

Every building, every tree, every piece that takes up space on this earth leaves a residue. An imprint.

James Jeni found that out when he moved his family into the home on Creekside. It’s a beautiful place with all the room a young family could ask for. But when he begins renovations, James discovers a diary that warns of the house’s dark secret, and of the family who disappeared within.

Father Abraham Ferraro is no stranger to dark secrets. He’s been battling the undead longer than most of us have been alive. When his protégé Professor Jonathan Landers brings him news on a string of murders, Abraham’s worst fears are confirmed. Maybe he’ll get lucky and the killer won’t be the creature he dreads most. Maybe today won’t turn out to be his worst ever.

Today is the best day of Allison Jane’s life. Sure she has to work for one of the most terrifying women in the city, but after getting a raise and a promotion, what’s not to be thankful for? Of course, if she knew she was going to die before the clock struck twelve, well, Allison might be a little less celebratory. Francis didn’t mean to kill her. He doesn’t even know what he is, only that when the moon is full, like it is tonight, he changes.

Set over the course of a single day, a series of six stories bring together the miraculous and the mundane. Some people will wake up. Have breakfast. Kiss their loved ones good bye. And others, like James and Allison, must meet the incredible with unflinching eyes.

You can find the novel HERE.

As always, thoughts are welcome.


This is a Cinnamon Raisin Bagel

I can’t located a good picture of the bagels I bought, and I’m not taking a picture of the near depleted bag I now own after the fiasco that was me trying to get the pic of my painting properly uploaded.  After a good hour fighting to make the thing to simply rotate counter-clockwise ninety degrees – an option labeled clearly and with a handy illustration – I gave up, left it as is, and decided not to look back.  Which leads me to here.  No picture.  You’re going to have to use your imagination to picture the type of bagel I’m about to describe.  Consider us participants both in the wonderful oral tradition.

Pastries are not my breakfast food of choice.   I like donuts, of course, but they’re more of a dessert to me.  Pancakes are my favorite food ever (seriously), and they can be on the sweeter side yes, though I’m more of a purist here with plain buttermilk being the end-all-be-all of food things.  The reason I’m explaining this is it helps to know my proclivities for what I’m going to explain.

It’s not as dramatic as I’m making it out to be.

Maple Leaf Baking Inc. has these New York Style bagels (established in 1880, supposedly) of the Cinnamon variety which are, in short, incredible.  I’m not sure what kids these days are saying, but if “the bomb” was anywhere in their vocabulary, it would be used here and liberally.  I grabbed them on a whim.  It could have been any other bag, any other brand.  I pulled without discrimination.  They sat on my own shelf until morning where I pulled one out and placed it in another bag for the drive to work, not realizing how special these circles were.  I was coming down the off ramp – or is it the on ramp?  I don’t know – merging first into the flow of traffic before removing the bagel.  Taking a bite was a moment of clarity.  I’ve heard it referred to as an “ah ha” moment, and maybe it was that too, though I would shift more toward an “oh my” or an “mmmmmm”.  The bread was soft.  Not chewy.  Not tough.  Near-enough melt against the top of your tongue the way chocolate might.  Cinnamon swirls coated some of the bites, allowing for small changes to the palate.  The raisins were, wonderfully, bright.  Some bagel-raisins turn gritty over time, making me feel as though I’m eating through a fistful of sand.  Not these.  Just the right mix of sweet and savory.

Even if you don’t like bagels, you should eat one.  If you can find them.  It took some searching on the bag to discover the name – Maple Leaf Baking is only in the fine print – and even more to try and find an online stock image, with none of those producing the same picture as what sits now on the counter.  Perhaps I have the only bag in existence, happening upon some Grimm-like tale which will end poorly once the bag has emptied.  And, honestly, I’d be okay with that.  The trade, whatever it is, may well be worth the price of the bagels.