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Archive for 'zombie'



Just another Saturday (Puzzle)
Saturday, March 14th, 2020

At least, we’re trying to make it that way.

I’m under self-quarantine. At my daughter’s insistence. The kids have been briefed several times about handwashing, not touching things when they’re out and about, not touching their faces, coughing into their elbows… And we all have coughs at the moment, but we’re also sneezing, which means, most likely, we have our seasonal allergies hitting us hard. After all, the pollen has started to drop.

We canceled a weekend trip to New Orleans and are planning to stay at home. So, of course, we’re planning on lots of movie nights, game nights, etc. We’re stocking up on popcorn. 🙂

Right this minute, my dd and the older kids are shopping at Walmart, hoping there’s something left to buy for meals. We’ve already ordered a large crate of TP from Amazon, have dog and cat food stored, lots of canned and dried goods put back. We think we’re ready for whatever comes. Her hubby’s a cop, so he stocked up on manly things. I swear, he thinks it’s going to be like The Walking Dead, and we need more bullets. Gah. Although after watching numerous videos of families warring over toilet paper at the supermarket, maybe he’s right.

We live in a rural area, with lots of woods and pasture around us. It’s peaceful here, except inside our house. Four kids, who aren’t really all that well-behaved, make life a little chaotic. Thank goodness for game stations!

As for work… My dd is a fulltime mom. Her hubby’s a cop. He has to work no matter. So, we don’t have to worry about missing a paycheck there. I work from home anyway, so we’re very, very lucky. We know this. So many families will be worrying about where the money’s coming from. I hope something’s done so people who have to stay at home will get some sort of assistance. Otherwise… [Play the theme music from The Walking Dead.]

For now, here’s a puzzle. My way of giving you something fun to do when you have a quiet moment and don’t want to think about a zombie apocalypse…


I know. That was kind of mean, right? 🙂

Jocelyn Dex: Halloween, Zombies, and a Giveaway (Contest & Excerpt)
Thursday, October 17th, 2019

When trying to decide what to write about for this blog post, Halloween kept jumping to the forefront of my noggin. Because October equals Halloween, right?

What do you think of when you think of Halloween? Is it all the yummy candy? The pumpkin carving? The dressing up and being anyone or anything you want for one day with no judgement? The ghosts, goblins, demons, witches, and zombies you might see? Is it simply the spooky energy of the holiday that you enjoy?

Or, is Halloween a night you use to curl up and read a spooky tale?

If you are the type to curl up with a Halloweeny-read, I have a fun, weirdo, and sexy zombie for you!

Wait. What, you say? A sexy zombie? No way.

Yes way!

One day, I was inspired to write a different take on zombies. They weren’t rotting, shambling corpses. They were infected and they did crave flesh—in more ways than one (wink, wink)—but they could be rehabilitated with time and effort.

The title of that story is A Zombie Ate My Panties. Obviously, by the title, you can tell it wasn’t supposed to be taken too seriously. It was supposed to be a fun, short, one-off, goofy, and sexy tale. Something to make people laugh and maybe even make them a little hot…in the pants…in a weird way.

But, it was such fun to write, I had to make it into a series. The second is My Zombie Valentine, and the third is Trick or Zombie—a funny Halloween-themed zombie story.

Trick or Zombie

When Trista takes her zombie trick-or-treating, will he make a snack of one of the kids? Or will he resist temptation and snack on something better when they get home?


http://www.jocelyndex.com/zombie-shorts.html

What should you know before reading the Trick or Zombie excerpt?
Zeek is a zombie. Trista is his caretaker. Oh, and Zeek loves boobs!

Excerpt

“We’re going trick-or-treating tonight!” Trista said. When Zeek looked at her blankly, she asked, “Do you know what trick-or-treating is? Do you remember ever doing that as a kid?”

“Kid. Snack.” He clicked his teeth together in a chomping motion.

“No. Kids are not snacks…not eat.” She implored him with her eyes, but he kept clicking his teeth. “Halloween, Zeek. Don’t you remember at all? You get dressed up like a witch, or a cat, or Superman, or something. Then you knock on doors, say trick-or-treat, and they give you candy. Remember?”

He screwed up his face, his red-ringed eyes rolling back in his head as if in deep concentration. Actually, it looked like he was about to have a seizure. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumped, and she felt bad for pushing him even though it was necessary.

“Hey. It’s okay.” She squeezed his shoulder in attempt to console him, but when the sullen look remained, she upped the game to put him back in a good mood. A sour-pussed zombie was no fun for anyone. She lifted her shirt and flashed him.

His eyes widened, and he licked his lips as he reached out and gave her breasts a squeeze. “Boooobs!

Halloween-Themed Giveaway

I’m hosting a Halloween giveaway on my website. Please go forth and enter. Good luck!
http://www.jocelyndex.com/giveaway.html

What are your Halloween plans?

Happy Halloween to All!

About the Author

Jocelyn writes paranormal and contemporary romances that include humor, lust, love, and four-letter words on the way to a Happily-Ever-After. You can check out all of her books @ www.JocelynDex.com.

Bad Wolves’ “Zombie”
Friday, May 4th, 2018

This has not been a very productive week for me. I’ve been trying to catch up on things that got neglected at home while I was gone, plus I’m tired after all the running around. I need a vacation after my vacation!

So, I’m being lazy today. Hope you don’t mind. This morning, I could have been working, but my dear daughter was here giving my aunt a makeover for her Facebook photos. It was fun watching her work with all those brushes and paint. I really do think she could go professional—as a makeup artist and a portrait photographer. She thinks she doesn’t have any artistic talents of her own. Pffft! She’s amazing.

Anyway, me being lazy means me finding something I want to share. I’m loving this version of the Cranberries old song, “Zombie” as covered by Bad Wolves. So sad Dolores O’Riordan wasn’t able to lend her vocals to her iconic song. This version already has over 49 million views. Let’s add a few more. And tell me what you think!

Halloween Prep (Contest)
Monday, October 30th, 2017

I don’t know about you, but Halloween/Samhain/Dia de los Muertos is kind of a big deal around here. We don’t buy candy because we live in the boonies—no one goes door-to-door with their kids. Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be working with my dd to get the kids’ facepaint right. We have one zombie and one sugar skull to create.  :)

All this made me wonder what sort of prep you do for the big date? Tell me about it and you’ll be entered to win a $5 Amazon gift card!

In the meantime, enjoy an excerpt from an appropriately scary/sexy tale, Zombie Love. It’s a short story and just $0.99!

Zombie Love

A woman desperate to save her infected boyfriend from certain extermination faces her battle alone, in secret, until one day she has to trust he’s still inside the monster she feeds…

No one knew where the infection began. However, rumors abounded. It was a government experiment gone awry. Or an ancient plague released by melting icecaps. If anyone knew, they weren’t saying. Before long, no one cared about its origin. We were too busy trying to survive in our new world.

A bite…a kiss…was all it took to change everything. We eyed our neighbors with suspicion, held our families close, until, one by one, they were struck. The contagion spread, leading to panicked looting and murder. Businesses and homes boarded up windows, locked doors. Travel was limited. Curfews enforced. Silence settled over cities, interrupted only by the rattle of gunfire or the screams of sirens. Haunting but distant—someone else’s tragedy, until it arrived in your home. And then how did one face the horror? Well, there were regulations to follow, specific entities to inform. However, I chose a different path from everyone else I knew. One I hoped I wouldn’t regret.

Over the long weeks since Danny’s infection, I noted the mindless roars lessened in their intensity. He ceased slamming his fists and head against the walls and thick Plexiglas until they were bloody. His features, though coarser than they’d been before, and gray-tinged, were no longer frightening. Bruising faded. Split lips, cheekbones, and knuckles healed.

The clumsy jerking motions he made as he moved around the space where we’d trapped him eased into something less inhuman. Still unsteady on his feet, he used his hands to push off the walls or press against the ceiling to keep the wavering from sending him to his knees.

Physically, he was improving. I recognized him now beneath the dirty clothes and scruffy beard. But his eyes still betrayed his savage soul. They gleamed red. The darkening of his irises, one frightening red fleck at a time, had been the first sign the disease had struck. Red had eventually consumed the brilliant blue.

I’d defied the law, refusing to report him or quarantine myself, and instead, had locked him in the garage studio he’d built when he’d been an aspiring musician, but which now served as his prison cell.

I’d watched the news as the disease continued to spread. The virus which caused an unending hunger for raw meat, turned law-abiding citizens into mindless murderers. At first, the sick had been quarantined in hospitals then prisons. When those reached capacity, the infected were loaded onto train boxcars and sent to internment camps, or so the government said, until a cure could be found.

But rumors had started almost immediately that everyone who boarded those trains was destined to be “put down”—a humane solution, which protected the rest of the population. But still, the disease ran rampant.

Businesses operated, but only because people needed basic commodities and the money to buy them. There was a military presence on every street corner.

Hiding Danny had proven tricky. The need to purchase large quantities of fresh meat meant I spent a good part of the daylight traveling to grocers in other counties so that my buying habits weren’t noted. I couldn’t risk having my home raided and losing Danny.

I’d do anything to protect him from extermination. No one knew whether the illness was reversible, but I was willing to wait, and hoped the signs of improvement that I noted every day in my journal weren’t just my wishful thinking. I’d loved him since high school—the shy girl who’d fallen for the bad boy rocker. The engagement ring he’d given me days before he’d become ill was hidden away in a drawer—something I pulled out when I wanted to remind myself why I was doing this.

Today, his gaze followed me through the thick glass without blinking. The raw, intense hunger was tinged with something else. Regret perhaps? Was he remembering us?

As I did every day, I unlocked the door to the studio and carried in a fresh set of comfortable clothing, a towel and washcloth, soap, and a tall pitcher of warm water.

Unlike days past, he didn’t rush toward me only to be jerked back when he reached the end of his chain.

I slid everything as close as I dared, and then backed away from the door, all the while holding his smoldering gaze. “Please bathe, Danny. I’ll bring you food in a little while.” I reached the door and turned the knob behind me. “I love you.”

My life was reduced to this. Foraging for food. Cleaning the perimeter of the dirty enclosure where I kept him. He’d helped prepare his own prison, installing a toilet where the old mudroom sink had hung on the wall before he’d converted the space. Welding chain to a manacle and testing the length to ensure my safety when I entered. He’d removed his sound equipment and instruments. Placed a sturdy metal cot in the corner.

The morning he’d woken, feeling as though he had the worst hangover ever and rushing to the fridge for the hamburger I’d thawed the night before, he’d recognized the signs.

I’d awoken with him standing in the doorway, his eyes haunted.

“What’s wrong?” I’d asked.

He’d given me a tight smile, but then I’d noted the deep gray shadows beneath his eyes, the slick of perspiration on his forehead. The reddening irises. “Danny?” I’d asked, sitting up on my elbows as my stomach roiled.

No, it can’t be happening. Not to us. We’d done everything right. We’d stayed clear of quarantined areas. Used our own vehicles rather than public transportation to get back and forth to work. We never drank after one another. Didn’t eat out in restaurants where we couldn’t watch the cutlery and plates being sterilized. Didn’t kiss.

“How?” I’d asked, my throat thickening with tears.

He shook his head. “I don’t know, baby. But I have to go. I’ll walk to the center. Turn myself in. I won’t tell them where I live, but you’ll need to sanitize when I’m gone.”

My stomach tightened in rejection. “You aren’t going there.”

His sweet smile stretched, although his eyes watered with unshed tears. “I don’t have any choice. I’m already scared to death I may have infected you.”

I shook my head, the back of my throat burning. “You know what they say about those places. I won’t ever see you again.”

He spread his hands and gripped the doorframe, his head bowed. “I love you, Trish.” Then he backed away from the door.

I threw back the covers. “No! We’ll find another way. Wait this out. They’ll find a treatment.”

But he walked away, down the hallway toward the front door.

I scrambled from the bed and followed. Before he reached the door, I encircled his waist with my arms and held him back. “Don’t do this. Stay with me. We’ll find a way to keep me safe. You still have a little time.”

While he’d finished the raw hamburger and I’d drank a pot of hot coffee, we’d conspired. By the end of the day, I’d hit the hardware store two counties over, and he’d cleared his beloved studio.

That hug at the doorway was the last time I’d touched him.