HNT - TiT - Susie To The Rescue

Terror in Toyland (TiT) - An HNT Adventure
by Mark Leslie

Continued from this post

"Gulp," Mark repeated, staring at the doom on wheels racing down the track toward him and realizing that in most episodic story lines it's important to give the audience a chance to remember where things stood when they last left off.

It was during this pensive moment that fellow blogger and HNT participant, Susie appeared seemingly out of nowhere, yelling out the words: "I'll save you!"

"Oh, Susie, you're just boss!" Mark yelled.

Susie grabbed at Mark's legs and pulled hard.

Mark's pants came off.


"Hey, what's the big idea?" Mark said.

"Opps," Susie giggled. "Of course this is Half Nekkid Thursday, and you haven't shown much skin lately. I thought I'd do my part and help out."

"Stop goofing around and get me off these tracks. Please."


"Oh, alright," Susie said, taking off her t-shirt. "Okay, now my arms and shoulders are bare, so I now qualify for HNT." And she reached down and grabbed Mark by a leg and pulled him off the track.

"Oh thanks so much," Mark gushed. "You saved my life."

"T'weren't nothing," Susie said with a rue smile.

"Oh no, I just realized I don't have any pants on."

"So," Susie laughed. "You've definitely shown more skin in your HNT posts."

"No," Mark said. "It's not that. I was hoping I could show off my Spider-Man underwear on another post."


"Oh, don't be silly," Susie said. "I'm sure you have plenty of other Spider-Man boxers to show off in future HNT's."

"Yeah, you're right."

Mark paused and looked at Susie. "Wow, it's so cool to meet you in person. But how did you end up on MY blog and in THIS storyline?"

"Ah my friend. There are more things in the blogosphere than are dreamt of in your philosophies. It's likely that I sensed a need in a fellow blogger and stepped in to help. Bloggers can be quite empathetic."

"Wow," Mark said. "And I thought that the internet was just good for porn and stuff."

"No, no, no, you're thinking about The Other HNT. This is the regular HNT."

Just then, lazer fire shot out at the two of them.

"Oh no!" Mark said. "Darth and his crew must have seen that I got away from the train. Now they're shooting at us."

Will Mark and Susie be able to escape the line of fire?
Will the silly and bizarre backgrounds continue to haunt this series?
Will the writing ever get any better?
Find out in future episodes of "Terror in Toyland"

To Be Continued . . .

Stretching A Good Thing

I was recently chatting with my friend and fellow author Kimberly Foottit -- we were talking about the fact that she was getting some pretty good mileage off of her debut sci-fi story "Walter's Brain" -- within the space of about 8 months the story had appeared in two markets. Hamilton's "Hammered Out" magazine ran the story in their annual fiction issue and at about the same time I bought it to appear in NORTH OF INFINITY II and the story was short-listed for a Hamilton Literary Award

The whole issue of reselling a story to another market was interesting. Personally, there's nothing I enjoy more than selling a NEW story to a market. But there's also a nice sense of satisfaction in selling a reprint story to a market, particularly a new and fresh market, likely where the readers haven't seen it before.

Take Kimberly's story, the heart-warming tale of a researcher who falls in love with the brain he is archiving. It first appeared in a small press lit mag and reached a particular audience that most likely don't read much speculative fiction. Not to say that none of the magazine's readership reads genre fiction, but that the general market they cater to likely don't read much sci-fi (Except maybe when authors like Margaret Atwood write a literary story that she would never admit to being a work of speculative literature). So when Kimberly's story appeared in the Mosaic Press anthology "North of Infinity II" which is particularly aimed towards a science fiction/speculative fiction readership she likely reached an entirely new audience of people who never saw her story the first time it was published.

I've sold reprint rights to several stories and poems over the years. Recently, I can site two examples. The first short story I ever had published was a young adult humour story called "The Progressive Sidetrack" -- it first appeared in 1992 in a small press magazine from Ohio with a circulation of under 500 and is being reprinted this month in a UK anthology published by Humdrumming called NAKED TALES: STORIES BY WRITERS WHO BLOG.

I also just signed the contract and was prepaid for my story "Browsers" to appear in what looks to be a phenomenally exciting book from Dead Letter Press edited by Tom English entitled BOUND FOR EVIL (yes, I'm an avid book lover, so can't wait to read this one). "Browsers" was first published in a Canadian speculative fiction magazine called Challenging Destiny in 1999. It was reprinted in my short story collection ONE HAND SCREAMING in 2004. And now a very slightly modified version of the story is scheduled to appear in Tom's exciting new anthology. Since the appearance in "Challenging Destiny" was so long ago, and the fact that my own story collection didn't get wide U.S. distribution there's a really good chance that readers of this new Dead Letter Press anthology aren't going to have seen my story before.

There's an interesting aside about that one, too. Because when I read the guidelines for the anthology, I started thinking about a tale I could write which would nicely fit in. But in the back of my mind something kept telling me that the editor would like my story "Browsers" -- I thought that the story was "close" but didn't quite match the guidelines in which he wants the book to be the villain. In my original story of "Browsers" the bookstore was the "bad guy" rather than the books. So rather than have that debate in my head I thought I'd query Tom and see if he'd be willing to look at "Browsers". He said I was right that the tale didn't match his guidelines but that it did sound interesting and he was willing to look at it. He ended up liking it so much that he wanted to use it in the anthology. Since it was so "close" I offered to tweak the story a bit to make it clear to the reader that the "books" are the evil force at work in the tale rather that the bookstore, and it then fit dead on.

I recall a story relayed to me about Canadian poet Carolyn Clink who read the guidelines for Don Hutchison's first NORTHERN FRIGHTS book. Though he didn't explicitly say he wanted or didn't want poetry, she queried him about it. Don ended up publishing her poetry in every single edition of the 5 book series -- imagines from one of those poems still linger playfully in my mind all this time after having first read it.

I'm going to try to sum up two morals, or bits writer advice from these stories:

1) It's okay to re-market, to resell a published story or poem to another market. This could introduce your writing to a whole new readership which isn't a bad thing at all.

2) Unless they specify explicitly that they don't welcome queries, or a piece of writing in a particular style or on a particular subject, it's okay to query if you have something that might not match the editor's specifications 100% but which you think might be close enough to be considered. I mean, after all, it's better to ask and be told no then to not even ask in the first place (Hmm, asking and being told no brings back so many memories of my younger dating years...)

Spam Bastards

Overnight my inbox was inundated with a slew of emails that were rejected due to the fact that the address I supposedly emailed no longer existed -- some of them were delivery status notification emails, some of them notifications from spam filters, some of them user unknowns.

This is worse than simple spam because some spam bastards have used fake email addresses attached to my domain (markleslie.ca) to create a barrage of attacks. When I set up my domain I didn't set up any of these garbage accounts, but they've been attributed to me and are coming back into my inbox as if I sent them.

What frightens me is that there's now crap out there in other people's inbox that looks like it came from me or my domain. If I got THAT many bounce backs, I wonder how many thousands of emails were sent from my domain, and I'm not sure the effect it's going to have on my real email address. Sigh.

So instead of writing something fun and creative this morning, I'm off to see what I can do to put a stop this nonsense. Like most petty ass cheap chicken-shit crimes, I'm sure there's not much I can do and the bastards will get away with it.

Yet again, underhanded sneaky bastards have stolen -- this time they've stolen my writing time. More theft, more underhanded bullshit. Ah, but isn't the internet great because it gives low-lives yet another way to take away from the average person?

And Eat It Too

I had a wonderfully enjoyable birthday weekend. On Saturday I had a relaxing dinner with Francine, we did some exploring and relaxing in Cambridge, saw Spider-Man 3, and stayed in a cozy hotel room (while Alexander had a sleep-over at his cousin's place). On Sunday, after spending a fun time at my cousin's place in the morning, Alexander and I did some yard work and chores.

But the best part of my birthday came at dinner time, when Alexander and Francine sang Happy Birthday to me (He's getting quite good at singing, and I particularly enjoy the way he rocks side to side while singing) and watching Alexander polish off two slices of my birthday cake.

Does life get any better than this?

And The Forests Will Echo With Laughter

Yesterday was a really busy day. I'd booked the day off work so that Francine and I could move some furniture from her Mom's house. Alexander was, of course, extremely helpful in doing that, as well as in helping me clean out the back of my truck.

Towards the end of the afternoon, our plan was drop off some supplies for Francine as she was setting up for today's "Mom to Mom" sale at the church hall, dropping off some library books, and heading to Canadian Tire to buy a new vacuum cleaner. (We're really hard on vacuums and I try to tell Francine that we don't NEED to vacuum every day, but she now has Alexander in her corner. He loves vacuuming. Of course, his version of vacuuming is plugging it in for me then running around laughing and pointing at the spots that I missed. He's almost big enough to control the vacuum on his own. It'll be fun for us to switch roles, because I can't wait to be the one running around and laughing and pointing out spots he missed.)

We'd been planning on buying a Dyson vacuum cleaner. You know, the ones that don't lose suction. I know they're more expensive, but they were on sale at Canadian Tire and I'm tired of our vacuum cleaners dying on us and thought that we should get a really good one. These Dyson puppies seemed like just the thing. Of course, Canadian Tire was sold out, but they did have a "knock off" Dyson cleaner that was built on the same technology and which was also on sale. So we decided to get that one.

After Canadian Tire I figured Alexander had done enough work (though he does manage to find lots of fun things to do no matter where we go - us adults have SO MUCH to learn from children about enjoying life) so we headed off to the park where we played grocery store (I bought and ate lots of wood shavings from his little corner shop), played on the seesaw, went down the slide, and climbed and swung on the monkey bars.

On our way home we passed an ice cream truck so we stopped to get a cup of soft serve chocolate/vanilla swirl. We were sharing the ice cream while driving home, and Led Zepplin's "Stairway to Heaven" came on the radio. Since the song wasn't finished, nor was our ice cream, we sat and sang along with Robert Plant while finishing our ice cream. Life doesn't get much better than that, now does it?

But the cutest thing happened about an hour later while Alexander was having his bath. I was humming the tune of "Stairway to Heaven" and Alexander starting singing along. Apparently he picked up on the following part really good because he kept singing it while I was humming: "Oooooooo, it makes me wonder." It was quite precious. We, of course, had to head downstairs and serenade Francine with our song. I'm a pretty crappy singer, but the duet I did with Alexander was definitely gold.

I wonder which songs I'll teach him today. Something from Pink Floyd's "The Wall" -- perhaps a tune off of The Who's "Who's Next?" or maybe the title track from "Fly by Night" by Rush.

Da Count - Stan Lee

What better time than the eve of Spider-Man 3 than to express my appreciation for one of my heroes. From the time I was a young boy I was captivated by the stories that flowed out of Stan Lee's pen. Of course, among all of the superheros that I read about, I was most enamored with a young nerdy teenager named Peter Parker who gained super powers and learned the hard lesson that with great power comes great responsibility.

I immediately identified with the nerdy loner with a great sense of responsibility who did his best to fight crime and other wrongs in the guise of his Spider-Man costume, but by day had to face real world teenage pressures like being snubbed by the prettiest girl in his class or being bullied. As Parker matured, he also faced other real-life things that I don't think other comic book superheros faced back then. He had trouble paying the rent, had trouble with his landlady, got colds and the flu in the middle of fighting major bad-guys, and he got an ulcer. Stan Lee was a pioneer of taking a fantastic world and bringing it back to reality -- Spider-Man was one of the very first teenager super-heroes and certainly the first to be so angst filled and have to deal with realistic adult real-world pressures.

Stan Lee not only provided me with endless hours of entertainment through the stories he told and characters he created, (as well as the ones he started and then passed the reigns along to so many wonderfully talented writers over the years), but he also inspired me to create my own superhero stories. When I was really young I used to play with little Fisher Price action figures and pretend they were Spider-Man, Daredevil and Captain America; I passed more hours than I care to count creating little stories about them (while, of course, staying true to the characters I knew and loved in the comic book stories of the Marvel Universe)

Part of the reason I'm a writer today is because of the inspiration that Stan Lee gave me -- that it was possible to tell larger than life stories about real people. That you could have supernatural and super forces meet reality and still tell a touching, moving story with characters a reader could care for.

Thank you, Stan.

HNT - Naked Snake Press

I was delighted to receive an autographed copy in the mail of my good friend Carol Weekes' first novel Walter's Crossing. I'm delighted to be able to re-read such a fine book and am absolutely joyed to see this book in bound trade paperback format.


The publisher, Naked Snake Press, (see, there is a valid link to Half-Nekkid Thursday) used a blurb that I provided for the back cover of the book.

"Walter's Crossing is terrifying because it's real. Weekes' characters are intense and believable. She has crafted a tale that draws you in right away and doesn't let go even after the story is finished. Her writing resonates with the angst, fear and trepidation of the teenage experience of bullies and the disturbing, chilling acts of retribution and revenge. Reminiscent of Dan Simmons' Summer of Night and Stephen King's The Body the characters and scenes in Walter's Crossing will live in the reader's heart and mind long after they turn the final page."

The book is available in paperback format or as an e-book and I strongly recommend it to anyone who likes a thrill or a chill when they read a novel. It's definitely money well spent and makes for an excellent summer read.



Stay tuned NEXT WEEK for when the HNT Darth Tater saga continues and features a very special barefooted guest . . .

Want to learn why every Thursday I focus on nekkid?
Click the link below to learn more about Half-Nekkid Thursdays

Homunculus

I just finished listening to two podcasts featuring my friend Robert J. Sawyer. Rob is not only a phenomenal writer, but he is also a brilliant and captivating speaker.

First Podcast - Click here to download and listen. In an interview with Tee Morris at Ravencon where Rob was guest of honor, Rob talks about various topics such as his latest novel Rollback, the recent hub-bub over Howard Hendrix's comments about writers who give their work away for free being called "webscabs" as well as about the need for writers to market themselves.

But one of the things that I was reminded about was how Rob is a wonderful ambassador for science fiction not only because he is a wonderful speaker, but because he consistently reminds people that science fiction is not all about high action stories that teenage boys read in comic books or watch on television, but that it is rather the "literature of ideas" -- and his fiction (which you can read tons of free samples of on his website here) is a great illustration of that.

Second Podcast - Click here to download and listen. This is an excerpt of Rob giving a lecture on the importance of a strong and consistent point of view in writing at Odyssey: The Fantasy Writing Workshop. Within the lecture he discusses the theory of homunculus, the little man inside our heads and how easy it is to break that concentration on point of view by offering some subtle examples.

I'm reminded, listening to Rob in these podcasts, that I will never give up any chance to listen to him speak, whether it's in person, on television or the radio or in a podcast. And regardless of it being a reading from one of his novels or stories, giving a talk about writing, or just talking about current developments in the world of science, he is fascinating to listen to and the perfect example of how to hold an audience captivated with his every word.

Hmm, maybe it's because when I hear Rob speak I get to be the humunculus inside of his head for a while and the view is pretty darned cool.

Surprise! See it!

Last night when I was drying Alexander off after his bath, he looked into our bedroom and saw a Sears bag sitting on the floor of our bedroom. His eyes lit up and he thrust his index finger into the air (the way he does when he has an intriguing new thought or idea) and he said: "Surprise!"

"What?"

"Surprise! Daddy!"

Oh, oh, I thought. Francine must have bought something for me for my upcoming birthday and told him it was a surprise for Daddy. Seeing the Sears bag must have triggered the memory and he was excited to share the surprise with me (several days early, of course).

"Okay, let's brush our teeth," I said, trying to distract him.

But, like his father, he's bull-headed and insistent. He kept on with his train of thought. "Spider-Man towels! Surprise! See it!"

I tried to explain to him that Mommy didn't want me to know about the surprise until my birthday, but just the same I'm quite excited. I asked for Spider-Man sheets for our bed, but I'm pretty sure they don't think they make them in queen size. What's the matter with bed sheet manufacturers? Don't they know about all the adults out there like me who refuse to grow up?

So I'm pretty sure I won't be getting Spider-Man sheets for our bed. But Spider-Man towels? Well that's fun not only for the beach, but for daily use! Woo-hoo!

The Real Big Boy Bed

After several weeks of Alexander coming into our room and climbing into bed with us after having fallen out of his toddler bed, we realized he was getting too big for it. (And yes, this was only after about 3 months in that bed). I'm not actually sure if he was too big for it or if it was just because the kid moves around a lot in his sleep. When he's in bed with us, he usually punches and kicks us -- we think it's just his way of claiming real estate in the bed. But he occasional clocks either Francine or myself so hard that we wake up with a black eye in the morning.

In any case, last weekend we picked up a bed frame kit and ordered a double sized mattress and box-spring, all in preparation for the big boy bed.

And this past Saturday morning at 7:30 AM, the mattress was delivered. (Good thing too, after working a 16 hour shift the day before the last thing I wanted to be able to do was sleep in)

We spent most of the morning dismantling the old crib/toddler bed. The bed we'd bought was supposed to easily convert into a double bed with the purchase of a couple of bed rails from The Baby Depot, the place where we'd bought the original crib. Only, when we went there last weekend (this place is in Kitchener, about an hour's drive from Hamilton) to get the kit we found out that they no longer dealt with that distributor. (So we were not only SOL for the conversion to a child's bed, but also SOL for the cool change table conversion into a bookshelf/dresser. Dammit!

We made the best of it, of course. We bought a generic bed rail kit and thought we'd give it our best college try. On Saturday morning, once the mattresses arrived, I took out my handy toolbox and Alexander took out his tool. We selected some music for the occasion. (What better that The Baby Einstein Orchestra's "Baby Galileo" to inspire us to new heights of creativity)

We dismantled the original bed, but together the box-spring frame, and attached the old back of the crib pieces to create a headboard. That was relatively easy. It was getting the "foot-board" which used to be the old front dropping rail together that took the most time. And I won't even relate the long story about the first bed rail (being that thing you put onto an adult sized bed that prevents kids from rolling out of bed in the night) that I bought that broke within two minutes of putting it together, nor the desperate race to get to the mall in the early evening to buy another one.

But the bed finally came together and Alexander was delighted with it. After storytime that night, he immediately put in his sleepytime CD (yes, another Baby Einstein Orchestra CD) and climbed into bed. Fran and I kissed him goodnight and fawned over him for a good ten minutes. He was so tired from all that fawning that he drifted off to sleep the moment we stepped out of his room and closed the door.

I was reminded of the paranoid way we were when we first moved him out of the bassinet in our
room at the foot of our bed and into his own crib. Saturday night we were in his room no less than four times, checking on him, leaning over him and making sure he was breathing (okay, that was me -- I've never outgrown that fear which I've had since the day he was born. I'll likely still have it when he's thirty years old).

The funny thing is that he didn't move an inch all night. And when we went to wake him up in the morning, he was still in that cozy, snuggly spot he was in when we put him down. I have to admit that was the very first time he'd EVER been in exactly the same place when he went to sleep. Ironically, he slept like the proverbial baby in his adult sized bed.

Man, I gotta get me a mattress like that, so I can sleep like a baby, too.

HNT - Goofy Quick Cam Pic

Work has been crazy these past two weeks -- last week I was at a Customer Advisory Board conference in Toronto (which was a very fun but very filled couple of days) and went straight from there into our year end Inventory which has been a steady diet of scanning ISBN and UPC codes and double and triple checking . . .

The best thing to express the frustration might be this quickcam shot I took a few weeks ago when I first hooked up a webcam to my computer.


And I promise I'll get back to the Darth Tater HNT series, very soon . . . I mean, after all there are plans to feature a special guest in the next episode . . .

What is this half-nekkid thing all about?

Click below to go see Osbasso and find out more.

Plug It Off

I'm continuing to enjoy observing Alexander's two year old language development. He understands the idea of turning something on. This usually applies to things like light switches and the switches on his toys that he's been able to turn on and off almost since he came out of the womb.

He has also merged the concept of turning something on with plugging it in. (Since the vacuum cleaner is one of his favourite "toys" (See earlier post Extreme Vaccuuming) he knows that to turn it on you need to plug it in.

Thus, we have the efficiently merged statement of "Plug it on!" which is used whenever we plug something in.

Since he has nicely grasped the concept of opposites, it so smoothly leads to the concept of unplugging something (yes, most often the vacuum cleaner) as "Plug it off!"

See, yet more wonderful logic and reasoning from a two year old. I think I'll try introducing that statement into my regular vocabulary and see if it catches on . . . or, perhaps instead of "catching on" maybe it'll just "Plug!"

My Love Slave

I'm not sure if it's all this talk about old television commercials or the fact that there was a sale on JUMBO boxes of Mini-Wheats, but I'm remembering this commercial.

Of course, we all know Mr. Mini-Wheat, the poor complex little guy who is constantly conflicted between his fun, frosted side and his nutritious 100% whole wheat side.

One of the commercials featuring this struggle was when he was about to go on a date and was nervous about which side to show. The narrator convinced him to show the girl he was dating BOTH sides, not just one. It was an exercise in helping him build confidence and as his confidence turned to cockiness, he says: "She'll be my love slave forever." to which the narrator responds: "Let's not get carried away."

I think this version of the commercial only aired for a week or so before Kellogg's quickly removed that line and replaced it with: "She'll be my true love forever."

I wonder which side of Mr. Mini-Wheat said each of those lines?

YOU'RE the Alphagetti Gobbler!!!!

Have you ever gone hunting with a bowl and spoon? And no, I'm not actually referring to the old Libby's Zoodles commercial; but rather, a similar one that I remember from my childhood.

I'm referring to the television commercial that featured The Alphagetti Gobbler.

In the commercial, there are two kids (at least two, I'm not sure if there were three) sitting at a kitchen table and listening to this googley-eyed monster with either a whack of arms or spaghetti-like tentacles warning them to keep their eyes on their Alphagetti because the Alphagetti Gobbler might eat it when they're not watching. (Okay, in my memories, the creature is starting to look something like Kang or Kodos, the alien creates from the Simpsons Halloween specials).

I think at one point the monster points behind them and says: "Hey, there he is!" The kids turn around, and when they turn back, their alphagetti is gone and the one kid says (in what I remember as a voice much like Oliver Twist): "YOU'RE the Alphagetti Gobbler!"

I regularly quote this kid, particularly whenever I want to accuse someone of something (like taking the last donut in a communal box of Tim Horton's donuts, or discovering who it was who borrowed and never returned my stapler . . . you know, important kinds of discoveries). Of course, whenever I do that kid's voice people either laugh their asses off because it had been decades since they saw the commercial, or they have know idea what I'm talking about and are really close to calling a doctor to have a look at me.

This whole train of thought was inspired by fellow blogger and Humble & Fred fan Mike Boon. Ever since I saw Mike and a group of others begin their hunt to find other people who remember The Alphagetti Gobbler and/or video clips or photos of the alleged creature that steals alphagetti's from unsuspecting kids, I'm having nightmares about him.

No, I never did encounter The Alphagetti Gobbler, at least that I knew of; because he does operate in a sneaky fashion. And I do remember at least once when a meatball or two went missing from a plate of spaghetti that I had once -- and NO, I did not sneeze. I think it might have been The Alphagetti Gobbler perhaps branching out and trying new foods.

I've been so consumed by the freaky memories of this monster that I've started a Facebook Group called I Remember The Alphagetti Gobbler. Please join, and please help us find this monster before he eats YOUR kid's Alphagetti's.

HNT - We're All Hokies

Yesterday morning while walking in to work I noticed all of the University flags were at half mast for the students and faculty who lost their lives at V Tech earlier this week. Then, later on, I caught sign of the "coming together" messages that other Universities and Colleges were offering via various online communities. I know it's a cold comfort, but I'm always impressed at how tragedies can sometimes bring out the best in neighbourly love and support.

To me, HNT is a weekly coming together of people. There's a common "theme" -- posting a picture that celebrates exposure. But that's just a really good excuse to allow folks the chance to connect. That's what it has always been to me. A social, neighbourly thing.

And so in that spirit, I expose a good part of what's been in my heart these past few days.



Thoughts and prayers are with all those affected by this week's tragic events at Virginia Tech.

Walter's Crossing

I'm eagerly awaiting a radio interview with horror author (and a good friend of mine) Carol Weekes. Carol and I used to edit Northern Fusion magazine together, coached and edited each other's work and also wrote several stories together.

Our story "It Creeps Up On You", a tale about a haunted comic book that forever changes a young boy's life, was first published in the World Fantasy Con 2001 CD-Rom that came with the program booklet and was reprinted in my story collection One Hand Screaming.

Here's the first three paragraphs of the opening of the story, just to give you a sense of the wonderful style of Carol's writing. Of course, her brilliant style is a bit subdued thanks to my own hand in this tale, but even the words that my big sausage fingers typed out can't dispel the magic of the way in which Carol can string words together and weave a tale.

He slowed the car along Parson's Road to view his old house from across the street. The last occupants had left the place back in 1976, and from what he'd heard, in a hurry, too. Some said it had been due to bankruptcy, another said divorce, but John Ingram knew better. Something had driven the last family out, and he thought he could understand what. When he'd lived in this house at 24 Parson's Road as a child, everything had been normal -- until one fateful night many years ago.

It had everything to do with the comic book he held in his hand. He tapped it against one leg, hating it, afraid of it, but also relieved to have found it. It wasn't the same book his brother Martin had bought back in 1975, but it was a continuation of the toxin, an unusual and frightening kind of poison that had begun to ruin his life two decades earlier.

He crossed the road towards the house. Dead leaves crunched under his feet. He watched the windows for any sign of movement. His lips pressed into a tight line and he regarded the house, swearing he was finally going to see this through to the end.

Carol is about to launch her first novel, Walter's Crossing. which is being released by Naked Snake Press. (Summary Description of the novel below)

On a torrid summer morning, a young man named Walter Matthews sets out to commit an act of vandalism and revenge against a small town bully that has made Walter's life miserable for a year. Walter almost achieves that bitter nugget of satisfaction--except something goes terribly wrong when he drops a pen while running for cover in the backyard of the bully he fears. What happens next only opens a chasm of horror for Walter and those he despises.

Carol is a brilliant writer, one whom I am fortunate to have worked and written with. And, having already read Walter's Crossing I can say that it immediately gets slotted into the list of my favourite novels. I think that anyone who enjoyed Dan Simmons Summer of Night or Stephen King's It will also enjoy Walter's Crossing.

(Incidentally, the book is not only available in hard copy, but also available as an e-book. If you only buy one e-book this year, make it Walter's Crossing. The great thing about e-books is that you can try out an author you've never read before with very little expenditure and risk. Being able to read Carol's novel for under $5.00 is incredible bargain. You'll thank me for the recommendation.)

Carol is going to be interviewed on Chuck Phillips' "The Morning Show" on AM 1220 on Thursday April 19th at 7:10 AM -- the first of a number of interviews surrounding the launch of her wonderful novel. You can listen to AM 1200 live by clicking here.

EBook Now Available

An ebook version of my story collection One Hand Screaming is now available via Payloadz.com.

Yes, an Adobe PDF version of the full text of the original print book (complete with the 20-odd typos and layout errors that most people likely don't see but which scream at me every time the book is held in front of me).

And it can be yours for a mere $2.75 Canadian. (Something like $2.10 US) You can pay using PayPal or any major credit card via a secure transaction.

"Wow!" I can hear you saying in response to this. "That's cheaper than a Starbucks coffee. Not only that, but you don't have to stand there like an idiot for 20 minutes while they go out, pick the coffee beans, wash, then grind them to brew up your cup of joe." That's right, my friend. The download is instant and the whole transaction takes less than 2 minutes.

See how nice I am? I even have this neatoman button you can push to immediately buy and download the product.

Okay, it's not my button, but the good people at Payloadz lent me their code . . .

-- End of Blatant Advertising Self-Promotion Blog Post --

(oh, who am I kidding -- the self-promotion NEVER ends, not really)

Wake Up Sleep Down

I get a special thrill in watching language-use develop in my 2 and a half year old son. I particularly enjoy discovering his grasp of concepts like opposites and how he applies them in a logically consistent fashion but which defy the often illogic nature of the English language.

One of the latest was the statement: "Wake up," which was followed by a pause, then a smile and the words: "Sleep down."

It does make sense. If a person wakes up, then when they sleep they most logically must sleep down. Here I've been calling myself a writer, a manipulator of words and phrases, yet in the past year or so as my son has been developing his own approach to the English language, I think I've learned more than in the previous three decades.

HNT - TiT - Railroaded

Terror in Toyland (TiT) - An HNT Adventure
by Mark Leslie

Continued from this post.

As Darth squeezed Mark in his tight grip, Mark lost consciousness . . .

. . . He wasn't sure how long he had been out of it, but when he woke up he was stunned and confused. He laid there trying to figure out what was happening while nightmarish visions of Darth and his gang flashed through his mind.

While he didn't know exactly what Darth had in store for him, he knew it couldn't be good.


That's when he heard the train whistle, and turned his head to look. As the wooden toy train started barreling down the tracks toward him, he realized that Darth and his gang were attacking him with his son's own toys.


From somewhere nearby Darth's voice could be heard: "What, no wise ass comments this time?"

"Gulp," Mark said, staring at the doom on wheels racing down the track toward him.

To be continued . . .

Longest Half Second Of My Life

I was reminded, last night, of a question that Mick Halpin opened with in his interview with me about a month ago. He asked me the last time I was scared shitless.

I reacted with the usual things that scare me, like the dark, the bogeyman under my bed, etc, and included my worst fear: something happening to my son, Alexander.

Because of this I'm usually that overbearing parent in the playground. Not the one sitting twenty feet away while my son climbs the play structure, but the one hovering near him, standing behind him when he climbs the ladder, following him around as he explores the climbers. I do try really hard to stand back farther to keep my distance and let him play without my interference. But it's extremely hard to do that.

Last night, I experienced the longest half second of my life. Alexander and I had just enjoyed supper at McDonald's and were heading over to the adjacent Toys R Us to check out fun toys. In the parking lot, a huge selection of new plastic play structures were set up, so we, of course, had to check them out.

Only, I'd failed to notice that when another young boy had knocked out a railing on one structure had failed to put it back into place properly. I'd been distracted when his younger brother had gone face first down a slide and got a bleeding lip. I was passing a tissue over to his mother so she could clean it up. The next thing I knew, Alexander was leaning on the loose railing, and then suddenly toppling when the rail gave way.

He landed on his face about three feet below on the pavement. Watching him fall from no less than four feet away from him was the longest half second of my life. I think I had him in my arms in that second half second, applying a tissue to his split lip (he'd put a tooth through his bottom lip) and inspected the pavement burn on his chin. There was a lot of blood pouring out of his mouth, but it was all from the lip (no loose or knocked out teeth -- whew) and no other damaged other than a small scrape on his knuckle.

When we got home he wasn't too fond of either of us holding a wrapped ice cube to his lip, but he did rather enjoy the fact that he was allowed an endless supply of Popsicles, which did help keep the swelling on his lip down.

And then I, of course, spent the rest of the night beating myself up over not having been standing closer to him, over not having inspected the railing before letting him climb up that structure. And reminding myself that it's not so bad to be an overbearing father; I mean, if I'd done a better job he wouldn't have been hurt last night. (Well, at least not the way he was hurt -- he does rarely go a day without some bruise or fall . . . usually just not so heart-stoppingly dramatic)