Haven't updated in a while

I finished the rough draft of my next book "The Dark Cry of Aristid" and have started polishing the stone. Otherwise, Happy Holidays. . .

Halloween Night

O dear sweet dead, come home, and welcome here. Lost in the dark but always dear. Do not wander, do not roam. Dear ones, come home, come home.  From the Halloween Tree by Ray Bradbury.

Happy Samhain everyone.  Light a candle and raise a toast to someone that's passed.

The Moon Is Full and the Ghosts Walk Among Us.

 Last blog of the Hop.  A local landmark known by many names, now a simple bed and breakfast.  Rumors have been around for years of noises upstairs, cold drafts, and the feeling of being watched.  Built in 1888, this site is full of history and memories.

The night is young, and the full moon lights the last of the leaves.  Ghosts walk among us and I must join them.  Tell me a story, one that talks of this place.  Once known as Campbell or Crumm Castle and at one time was an institution.  I will pick a story that makes my skin crawl for an e-book copy of "Hell to Pay".

Happy Halloween

Theorosa's Baby

Time changes lore.  It could have been a pioneer woman running from Indians.  It could have been a young girl and an unintended pregnancy, or a witch loathed by the community that gave birth. . . all three tell of a woman throwing her baby into a creek.  To this day, if you stand on the bridge and proclaim "THEOROSA. . . I HAVE YOUR BABY!"  She will reach from the dark swirling waters below and take you.

But we've been in a drought, rumor is, it's not the right bridge, and it's a huge fouled party spot.

Although, in one picture a red orb appears. . . It's not on pictures of the same place and note there is a green branch over it.

Be careful at the jokes you play.

The "real" bridge burned down in 1974 and had been rebuilt twice, but kept meeting the same fate.  This bridge was built in 1991 and is at 109th and Meridian near Valley Center.

But as for ghosts, it remains a lone stretch of land driven over by cars daily.  Reports over time state that cars have not started or suffered damage while being parked here.

For now local rumor remains, and even though the creek remains a trickle, something could be waiting below the mud.

Just a Little Break for Storm Coverage

I'm no where near this Frankenstorm system, but weather fascinates me.  As some of the past Coffin Hoppers know, I'm a storm chaser/photographer in the Midwest (www.ruminationofthunder.com) as well as being a horror writer.  Those of you on the eastern seaboard take care.  This could be a monster.

From NOAA NY

And for a moment of levity, Young Frankenstorm.

The Noise from Down the Street

TRUE! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?

--but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed --I raved --I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder --louder --louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now --again! --hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!

"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! --tear up the planks! here, here! --It is the beating of his hideous heart!"

The Tell- Tale Heart by Edger Allan Poe

In the heart of Bel-Aire, stands a water tower, pale in the placid lights that surround it.  For inside like a pearl to an oyster is a man.  Local legend says that during the construction of the tower, a man scaled the outside column, looked in, and fell to his doom.  The position of his landing, and the way he had somewhat buried himself into the column, they decided the body was unretrievable and finished the water tower.

Believe what you want, that the cost of construction doesn't matter to the cost of human life.  Believe that they retrieved the body and gave proper burial.  Or believe occasionally the water tastes like iron.  That there is blood in the water and the well has been fouled.  And on those dark foggy nights, when you walk by, hope you don't hear the knocking on the side of the wall.  A wall that has kept him in for almost a decade.

The photo was taken back in January 2010 during a pea soup fog.  Want to see more of my freaky imagery?  Check out www.ruminationofthunder.com.

Coffin Hop 2012

Greetings and welcome to the Coffin Hop 2012, traveler.

Set back in the peat moss, crack open a cold one, and set for a spell.  Close your eyes tightly and wait for the sound of silence to overwhelm you.  Then look to the left.  Just out of your field of vision you may see something rustling in the darkness, but do not fear.  Over 100+ horror writers are calling out, wanting the warmth of your flesh to draw nearer.  Come visit us and let us adore you.

 Only eight more days until the veil between the worlds opens up to let us all out.  For now, fall back in fevered dreams and listen to what we have in store.

Brian Johnson's Novel, Hell to Pay, is available from Hellfire Publishing here: http://tinyurl.com/4yzb32k

A short story for the price of free . . . The Ballad of Mercy Tyler.  

On a lone stretch of road, Mercy Tyler meets with the forces of nature. 

Zombie Preparedness Field Guide

Revisionist History

Yes child. I carried you from the ruins of Wichita and we found a little plot of land unsieged by soot or salt. We named our little shelter Kechi, and it has been the safest place you will ever know.

Fahrenheit 451ish

Troy Library from Jennie Hochthanner on Vimeo.

Childhood Monsters

Some days I wish I had a normal monster in the closet.  I had two.  Not your typical monsters in the closet, but childhood fears.

#1 Bad Weather - this can all be explained by my other website:  www.ruminationofthunder.com.  Conquered this one, no problem.  How you ask?  Face to face with a monster tornado while at a lake in a camper.  I did an article about it a couple years ago for a local magazine: http://www.verbict.com/2010/03/08/chase-storm-chasing-why-i-do-it/

The most memorable part was the pregnant lady running into the shelter crying that it was going over the top of us.
I sat between a washer and dryer, holding on for dear life in my Dallas Cowboys poncho.  Yeah, memories.

#2 was the unsettling monster.  Unsettling because he was real.  When I was young, about the same age when I saw the tornado, there was a serial killer going around near my grandmother's neighborhood.  One family of four was slain a couple blocks away.  I stayed with my grandmother a lot during the summer.  So there were nightmares of a strangler walking in the house.  One of those crazy nightmares where you're running and all you can see are the oversized shoes and large hands of the maniac coming after you.

We were fine.  Grandma was never a target and when I grew up, I met the man.
http://fatherthunder.blogspot.com/2011/10/ive-been-alone-with-serial-killer-in-my.html

So force of nature and true boogyman.  I've made piece with one, and the other is locked away forever.

Now that you've found my inner demons, become one of my minions (linkon the right).  My novel "Hell to Pay" is available from Hellfire Publishing in book or e-book form.  My short story "The Ballad of Mercy Tyler" is available through Smashwords for free.

Alright you sadists, check out the rest of the nightmares:

Drought and A Slight Relief

Whoops, the problem with running several blogs.  I usually post this over at www.ruminationofthunder.com but sometimes other personalities break through.

Last month we received 0.22" of rain.  Cracks are staring to form in the soil where the grass has given up the ghost.  July tied for the 4th hottest in our history.  2011 was the 2nd hottest.  So as we are waiting for dustbowls and locusts a small cold front fired through last night.

Corn or what's left of it

At least something is growing

I thought I heard something and went outside to look, a bolt of lightning hit less than a mile from the house.  I miss lightning but in conditions like this, CG (cloud to ground) strikes can cause bad fires.

Starlight, moonlight, city lights

Moon breaking through

The Scourge of Social Media

Is Social Media a necessary evil?  Yes, unless you have one of the big six publishing house marketing juggernauts telling everyone how absolutely wonderful your new novel is.

Hello, my name is William Brian Johnson and my novel Hell to Pay is freaking awesome!
http://tinyurl.com/4yzb32k

You don't know me, I made a comparison to nothing, I've used an exclamation point, that may be a link to a virus, and you probably clicked off this.

People like photos and catchy lines.





A man who thinks he's losing his soul, meets a man who has.
Hell To Pay
from Amazon.com at http://tinyurl.com/4yzb32k

Did I grab your attention or did you just check your Facebook status?







I've talked on this blog about storm chasing, gateways to Hell, and my meeting with a serial killer.  Does that make me interesting?  Maybe.  I'm a regular guy that has some interesting stories to tell, looking for an audience to pay attention.  The question is, how do I grab you and keep you coming back?

Facebook talks to all my friends and family.
Twitter had me linked to a whole bunch of celebrities.
Tribrr has a good writerly friends that post each others blogs in hope that someone reads it.
Pintrist and Flickr are great for my photos and occasional strange grabs.
Goodreads are once again friends and writer folk I've met.
I've bloghopped and met some great people, but am I only meeting other writers also selling wares?

Don't get me wrong, I've talked with some great and interesting people in social media.  Some who I've followed for decades and received personal responses, but how to I talk to the readers?

That's what I'm still investigating.

Do you have a comment on this?  Leave one below, I would love to hear from you.

Why So Serious?

So what if two comedians decided to write a book like Fifty Shades of Grey and didn't edit or write any of it?  They asked for contributions and threw it up on the Apple site.  It's now number #4 in sales.

http://bookriot.com/2012/08/02/what-if-we-had-the-internet-write-a-book-crowdsourced-fake-erotica-soars-up-ibookstore-charts/

Hmmm, makes me wonder why I'm killing myself on worldbuilding.

Favorite Authors and Recommendations

Sometimes I wonder if a little of what we read creeps into the darker parts of our    brains.  Do our literary desires reflect what we want or who we wish we could be?

I hope not.  Otherwise I need to be locked up.

This weeks blog is to talk about our favorite authors and to give a couple recommendations on books.


I grew up reading Anne Rice and Stephen King.    My fantasy teeth were broke on Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman's Dragonlance saga (sorry guys, never made it past the second generation of characters). Then on to R.A. Silvatore and his world of Drizzt. I moved between reading fantasy and horror; Clive Barker, Micheal Crichton, Neil Gaiman and other fantasy/horror allstars and still do.  I have not jumped on the "Game of Thrones" bandwagon yet, but will someday.

Some writers say you shouldn't read when you write because it will alter your story.  I don't believe that.  I believe that we learn from our favorite authors, and have spent time picking apart their books like an English professor to figure out how they did what they did.

From Jim Butcher, I learned the art of cliffhangers and not being able to put a book down.

From Charles Bukowski, I learned to strengthen my own personal voice in writing.

From Shel Silverstein, I learned about the art of nonsense and how sometimes an incredibly powerful point can be made without having to say it.

So for recommendations:

Charles Bukowski: Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit (just for the title) but highly recommend The Most Beautiful Woman in Town.

Jim Butcher: Death Masks

Shel Silverstein: A Light in the Attic

Enjoy and keep reading.

Our Dystopian World

Check out http://www.goodreads.com/blog/show/351-the-dystopian-timeline-to-the-hunger-games-infographic what to read, what to read, or what is the world coming too.

Or if you want a good story about a born again evil god . . .
Touch the cover for the link.

What Am I Reading

What am I reading?  Everything.

Research - Conan A Witch Shall Be Born by Robert E. Howard.
Research - How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy - Orson Scott Card
Job - Common Core Standards
Job - The First Days of School - Wong & Wong
Relaxation - Freakonomics - Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner
Relaxation - Sandman Slim - Richard Kadrey
Relaxation - Freedom Writers Diary - By them and Erin Gruwell

I tend to read like I do everything else.  All over the place.  My office, den, living room, bathroom, bedroom all have books.  All have bookmarks resting in some places that I may have left ten minutes or ten months ago.  I am a voracious reader, but will give up on books that take me no where.  I don't read free books on Kindle, although I might if time stood still and nothing was going on.

My selves are a mix of classic, young adult, and adult books of almost every genre.  Sorry majority of romance, no romance books.  Tried writing it once, killed of both characters in the first chapter, true story.
I have a reading crush on Jim Butcher (Dresden Files, didn't get into the other series yet), R.A. Silvatore (Drizzt series-es there are a ton of books), complete sets of Poe, Shakespeare, Bukowski (still need a couple books).   I tend to have books on paranormal and things that go bump in the night.  People might find it odd that I have two bibles.  One given to me by a very close friend.  The other is the family bible that I inherited from my Grandfather that contains our family history.

I have some books going back into the late 1800's and some books in languages I can't read.

I like books.  The feel, the ability to know exactly how much is left, the smell of old pages, and the rustling noise it makes when you turn a page.  I like Kindle, but if I read a book that I loved on it, I'd go buy it in paper.

Oh yeah. I also have my book.
Hell to Pay.  You can get it in e-book or paper.  Seeing myself on a bookshelf makes me happy.

Light Bulb Moment

The light bulb moment.  Let's start this by me complaining about my muse.  My muse is evil.  My muse is never available when I need it.  My muse spends a lot of time waiting for the right time to strike.  When is the right time?  When I'm busy, in the middle of something, finishing a report for work, finishing a paper for school.  I feel those ice cold lips on my ear whisper what if.

My friends know that look, the look of insanity and inspiration I get.   I'll grab whatever's close and whatever will make a mark, sometimes I'll even write on myself.  Then I spend time looking like a strange automatic writer (these are people, usually mediums, that let spirits communicate through them in the form of writing).  This might not be a bad way to write a book, except most of it looks like scribbles.  Very similar to my writing most of the time.

My current light bulb went off after a night of gaming.  We were discussing some of the new races that had been developed and a half-demon was mentioned.  Flash forward to the next day at a friends apartment.  He's talking about a new game he wants to show me, then bam.  I spend the next hour writing the opening scene to the second trilogy I planned to write while he played video games.  I know, a little odd.  So is the muse.



My other ideas have came from conversations with inebriated friends, bad jokes, and staring at the moon.

Welcome to my nightmare . . . I am a writer.

Characters on the Couch: an Interview with Michael Bailey

  What is your biggest vulnerability? Do others know this or is it a secret? 
       Knowing that I messed up the first time that I was presented with a real case as a detective, and it cost the lives of two children.  Do others know . . . shit.  Word gets out.  In the early days, it was a lot of sympathetic looks , but as time went by, people look down as you walk by.  Sometimes getting a response from saying good morning feels like too much of a privilege.  Then you realize you're nothing more than a ghost.  People react to you like they just hit a cold spot on the floor. . .  maybe it's something deserved.


What do people believe about you that is false?  
        That I'm apeshit psycho.  Yeah, I took potshots at a pair of glowing eyes in my apartment and I have dreams of this big black dog waiting to kill me every time I close my eyes, but I have my lucid days as well.  I tend to stare off into the shadows at times, but I know what is there.  Those that watch me, wondering what the hell I'm staring at?  They're the idiots.  They got their backs to it.


What would your best friend say is your fatal flaw? Why? 
       Friends have low tolerance.  Sponsors are sometimes better to listen to.  Sometimes, we fall off the wagon.  Sometimes our sanity gets a little fragile.  But like Micheal Cain said in "Batman Begins", sometimes we fall to get back up.


What would the same friend say is your one redeeming quality? Why?  
       Same sponsor, old man, lung cancer, used to tell me that I couldn't see what was right in fucking front of me.  Sometimes he said I was a simple idiot, but yet, we used to talk all night.  He always told me I couldn't see the apple in front of me on the table, but sometimes I'd surprise him with an aerial  view of the orchard.  I may sometimes act a little thick, but listening to someone explain the simplest idea gives you a perspective on them and how they view the world that you can't gain from simple conversation.  I use it a lot in interrogations.  


What do you want most? What will you do to get it?   
       To win, to let go of past issues, and to have a good night sleep.

Michael Bailey is currently featured in the novel "Hell to Pay" by William Brian Johnson from Hellfire Publishing.
 http://tinyurl.com/4yzb32k

Also check out "The Ballad of Mercy Tyler" available for free on Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/118371

http://readingwritingandlovinit.blogspot.com/2012/01/im-hearing-voices-character-blogfest.html

Hookers and Hangers Bloghop: The Hangers

I enjoyed the exercise presented  by Falling for Fiction on their "Hookers and Header" bloghop.  This is the second hop I've completed with them and appreciate them allowing a horror writer around.  Novelists should look at their chapter beginning/ending and separate their first and last lines to see what's pushing the audience to  go deeper.

I had good comments yesterday, so today, comment again and I'll do a second drawing for an e-book.  Thank you all for the experience and follow my mundane adventures here at Father Thunder and at www.ruminationofthunder.com.

Now for the hangers:

This isn't the last line but is in the final chapter:

Chapter 61:  After nearly drowning in the supernatural, the mind needs time to process and reprocess events and make up several lies to believe in.

Chapter 1: The big black dog, his hellhound, materialized from the shadows between the houses, and followed him right down the street.

Chapter 8: Within thirty minutes he had showered, climbed into bed, and dreamed of burning men and a howl that woke him up an hour before the alarm went off.

That's it for the contest, here are some more.

Chapter 2: Then something reached deep into George’s soul and strangled it.

Chapter 3: Bailey knew the omen, and recognized the rest of the day was going to suck.

Chapter 4: George stood his ground for a moment, then fainted away, letting something take over that had wanted out all day to play.  

Chapter 7: “God, help us all.”

Chapter 9: Long blinded eyes looked lost as he gave up the ghost.

Chapter 10: Nonetheless, it sent a chill down George’s spine and the feeling that this would not be the last death to visit him.

Chapter 12: A few days until the master of the world walked among the humans once again, and his servants were awaiting him.

Chapter 15: He knew his father was dead by the bloat and mottled appearance, but the groan sunk itself deep into George’s mind as a warning of his father’s return.

Chapter 17: With bourbon, he’d be ready for anything.

Chapter 19: A beacon of hellish red light erupted from downtown and provided the trail.

Chapter 24: Bailey recovered from the light, sound, and pressure to find the rain stopped, the sky clear, and his car very dead.

Chapter 26: It looked black in the moonlight as he raised it to the sky, muttered something as old as man, and took a taste of human heart.

Interested?  Check out "Hell to Pay" from Hellfire Publishing.  It is available in e-book and paperback.  Also please leave a comment below to be entered in the drawing, and join me on my quest by becoming a minion on Father Thunder.  This is only the beginning my flock, glories wait ahead.  I will announce winners soon.

Yeearrrg. I'm running behind. Buccaneer Blogfest

Forgive me for being the latest Pirate on the pyre.


I am Brian Johnson, a scallywag of mythic proportions, a writer of some of life's darker things, and a photog of daring beauty. You are welcome to peruse my pages on Father Thunder and www.ruminationofthunder.com  but beware, steal my wares, and find yourself bloodeagled.

In Father Thunder, you will find 12 things you really didn't need to know about me, An Interview with Micheal Bailey, my main character from "Hell to Pay"; and other assorted odds and ends.  My novel, Hell to Pay is available at Amazon from Hellfire Publications and a short chapter intro to Hell to Pay called the Ballad of Mercy Tyler from Smashwords.  Now enough links in the chains that will drag us to the crushing depths of Davy Jones locker.




















My current WIP is called Aristid.  This is the story of a supposed half-demon boy raised by a religious institution to become their ultimate weapon.  For my progress, check the WIP page above.










The Aristid Chronicles

Chapter 1

The church tower near the village of Elta sounded two low notes followed by an off key higher pitch.  The gale warning echoed among the hills as, village inhabitants rushed to grab children and scan the skyline.  The heavy air smelled of vegetation and rain, and its electricity caused hair to stand on end. 

Mayor Blanchfield hurried though the cobblestone streets near his office frantically looking for his daughter, Maggie, who had gone to play.  He spotted the small red-headed child not more than six summer’s old, playing near the fountains.

            “Maggie!” Mayor Blanchfield yelled as he ran uphill toward the village center.  Maggie stared at the storm frozen in fear and wonder.

He grabbed the child and ran to Shrinehall, an open but sheltered place of worship that overlooked the village.  The statue of the great god, Alfodr, pointed at the storm as sunlight disappeared from the village and thunder growled.   A cold wind pushed through as ominous boiling clouds stirred overheard.   

Mayor Blanchfield moved toward the alter as hail tinked off the copper roof.

“Daddy, is it the Wrath?” she cried. 

 “No child.  Be silent about the wrath here.  We are safe.”  Mayor Blanchfield said.  “It’s a story told to misbehaving children to silence them in church.”  He glanced at the statue hoping for a sign of approval. 

Einridi, please help us.

The bells continued their warning.  He stroked Maggie’s sweat stained hair from her face as a bolt of lightning hammered nearby.  Maggie’s fierce squeeze made his leg go numb, until her nails found home in his flesh.  They crouched near the statue as if divine intervention might save them. 

Hail cracked upon Shinehall’s roof making larger dents.  In the surrounding farmlands, horses screamed and stampeded, while livestock bellowed and died.   The alter looked down on it all and Mayor Blanchfield knew that the crops would be a total loss.    Shattered glass fell to the cobblestone roads as hailstones the size of fists fell from the sky, cracking wood and ravaging thatched roofs.   The mayor knew Maggie was screaming as she and covered her ears. The sound intensified drowning out anything else but destruction. 

The cloak of hail surrounded them.  Holes appeared in the roof’s massive dents and some hail made into Shinehall.  The noise deafened them as cold air flowed through the  Shrinhall. Suddenly as the destruction began, it stopped.  Heavy rain replaced the hail cutting visibility all around them.  Once again, the church sounded their warning.  Mayor Blanchfield gut clinched as he realized it was more than a warning but a plea to the gods for help.

Keep an eye on my WIP and hopefully we will watch it grow.

Hookers and Hangers Bloghop: The Hookers

Welcome to the Falling for Fiction "Hookers and Hangers" bloghop.

"Hell to Pay" was released from Hellfire Publishing last year and is available in e-book or paperback.

The hook:
A man who thinks he's losing his soul, meets a man who has.

Hookers (stop stocking up on antibiotics, these are the first lines from chapters):

Chapter 3: A single bolt of lightning struck somewhere near the center of town.

Chapter 4: Bailey moseyed into the office, dry, bandaged, and ready to get his ass chewed.

Chapter 7: Most of the Ashton police force was already assembled when Bailey and John entered the tactical room.

Chapter 8: About 4:00am Bailey fell asleep against a pole near the makeshift morgue.

Chapter 9: A man screamed in George’s dream, and it ended in a gurgle of blood.

Chapter 11:  Detective Bailey circled the Market Square almost twenty times that day, running between the antique store and the fire scene.

Chapter 12: George never opened the antique store the day Neeley died.

Chapter 18: The white flag flailed in the wind and burned into Detective Bailey’s uncontrolled rage.

Chapter 19: The heavens raged in a violent thunderstorm as Lars stumbled through the wet empty streets of Ashton screaming for his departed friend.

Chapter 23: George dreamed about angels coming in the night.

Chapter 24: The dwarf did the trick, Bailey felt more comfortable around Mills since the shared laugh.

Chapter 26: George’s vivid nightmares left him detached most of the day.

Just a taste of the book, there are 61 chapters.  If you like what you read, check out "Hell to Pay".  Leave some comments below and after the bloghop, I'll draw a winner for a free e-book.

Now hop my minions!!!

1.	Writing on the Wall	2.	Between the Bookends
3.	Tobi Summers - Chock Full of Words	4.	Unyielding
5.	Lisa Regan	6.	Cassie Mae
7.	Writing Off The Edge	8.	Cutest Landing
9.	Michael Abayomi	10.	Amanda Olivieri
11.	Darci Cole	12.	Jenny Morris
13.	Writing with Hope	14.	A.J. Locke
15.	Another Author	16.	Fanatic for Fiction
17.	Ink in the Book	18.	Suzi- Literary Engineer
19.	tara tyler	20.	Scattergun Scribblings
21.	used bikes in london - Second hand bikes london	22.	Queendsheena
23.	Emily R. King	24.	Mutterings from the Oubliette
25.	My Inner Fairy	26.	Scribble Babble
27.	the sands of writing	28.	Amy Sonnichsen
29.	Kim Karras	30.	And Then She Was Like Blah Blah Blah
31.	Leigh Covington	32.	J. A. Bennett - A Writer's Journey
33.	Thardrandian Thoughts	34.	Jade Hart
35.	Gina Denny	36.	Freya Morris
37.	Use Your Words...	38.	Sydney Aaliyah
39.	Whatever	40.	Tasha Seegmiller
41.	Clare Dugmore Writes	42.	C.M. Brown
43.	Ilima Todd	44.	Donna Hole
45.	The Art of Infiltration	46.	Write Here, Write Now
47.	Carrie-Anne's Magick Theatre	48.	T.L. Bodine
49.	Tara @ More Than Fiction	50.	Melissa Sugar
51.	Roxanne @ Books and Blossoms	52.	Medeia Sharif
53.	Tyson McFrost (Frost Lord)	54.	Michael Pierce
55.	T.F. Walsh	56.	Putting Pen To Paper
57.	VikLit	58.	Rantings of a Writer
59.	Stina Lindenblatt	60.	L.M. Miller
61.	EM Castellan	62.	The Intrinsic Writer
63.	Teardrops On My Book	64.	1000th.monkey
65.	Sue K.	66.	Lindz Pagel
67.	Flame Writer	68.	Beth's Blog
69.	Trisha @ WORD STUFF	70.	Cristina dos Santos
71.	Deana Barnhart	72.	Krista McLaughlin
73.	ali cross	74.	SC Write -- Writing, Publishing, and Harry Potter
75.	Entertaining Interests	76.	Martin at 'From Sand to Glass'
77.	For Science!	78.	Nancy S. Thompson
79.	Postcards From My Mind	80.	It's All in My Head
81.	Soul Destruction	82.	Theresa Paolo
83.	Lynn(e) @ The Submission Process	84.	Your Daily Dose
85.	Folio Road	86.	dreamwritepublish
87.	Word by Word	88.	Father Thunder

The Problem with Being A Writer

While working in the darkness taking pictures of storms, stars, or whatever, the problem is my mind.  I've told enough scary stories that sometimes old lies repeat.

Recent interview with The GInger Nuts of Horror

http://thegingernutcase.blogspot.com/2012/06/brian-johnson-interview.html

The Story of Stull

Happy Summer Solstice, go get your goat leggings and lets have a party.  Seriously, the summer solstice brings a gateway into this world from a nefarious dimension.  One of the seven gateways of Hell is located right here in Oz (Kansas to the uninitiated). This is a copy of a post done long ago, reuped for your reading pleasure on this longest day of the year.  If in Stull, beware.

I have seen the gateway to Hell . . .

Legend has written many stories of Stull, Kansas.  A small town in the northeast corner of Kansas, well known for a burned out church that the pope himself refused to fly over.  Rumor was the town, originally called Skull, was one of the seven gateways to Hell.

There was talk about early settlers practicing black magic and a woman who had the devil's child.  This incites the devil to show up on a couple different dates, believed to be Halloween and the Summer Solstice, to visit his ex and child's grave.  Then on Halloween 1988 several hundred showed up to see Old Scratch in person.  This caused issues with law enforcement and the subsequent vandalism made the Stull Cemetery off limits to outsiders.  The local sheriff warns of a possible $1000 fine for those caught trespassing and the possibility of six months in jail.

Then in March of 2002 a storm blew over part of the walls.  A local man pushed over the remaining walls to keep people safe that might venture into the graveyard, but also to put an end to the mythology surrounding the cemetery.

Lore attached to the church from a local paper The Lawrence World Journal included:

• ·        Reports of abundant paranormal phenomena from residents in the town: raps and banging; voices-often reported to be the voice of an old woman; weird clocks and indoor windstorms; ghostly children playing at night in the cemetery; time shifts and discrepancies, inexplicable loss of memory and disorientation.
• ·       Stull was the reason The Cure refused to play in Kansas.
• ·        Before the church was demolished, it was said that bottles thrown at the walls would not break. A permutation held that if the bottle didn't break you were going to hell; if it broke, heaven (some said vice versa).

Would you like to win an E-book copy of "Hell to Pay"?  Tell me about the other Gateways to Hell in the comment section.  Just like how Stull is usually misplaced on maps, you won't find the information on Google . . . 

Summer reading list

Mine . . .

Or . . .

Via Teach.com and USC Rossier Online