Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Now Online: Lizardian Chapter 31

Chapter 31:
“Coffee.  Black.”
Jim sat down on a red stool.  He traced his finger along the marble counter top.  He glanced up at the television set attached to the wall.  The station was set to the local weather station, and the tv was on mute.  In the background, The Doors was playing in tribute to the diner’s cook.  He couldn’t remember the name to the song playing, but he knew the next one very well.  People are strange, he thought as he glanced over his shoulder to the two government agents parked in a booth beside the window.
“I hate this song.”  David Peters sat on the stool next to him.  “It’s really sad that the cook died, but do we have to listen to The Doors all day, every day because of it?  Coffee.  Milk and sugar,” he said to a waitress in a short, pink uniform.  “What’s her problem,” he asked, noting the sour look on her face as she walked away from them.
“She was probably friends with the cook.”  The waitress returned, placing Jim’s coffee down in front of him, and then she gave him a smile.  She refused to look at David Peters.  “I think you hurt her feelings.”
“Well, life’s a bitch.”  David Peters stared at Jim for a moment.  “Long day?”
Jim looked over his shoulder at the two government agents nearby.  David did not follow his gaze.  He took a long sip of his coffee, savoring its flavor.  “Something like that,” he finally said.  “You going to ask about that journal?”
“No.  I doubt that you still even have it.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know.”  His coffee was dropped down before him.  Then, the waitress placed two sugar packets nearby, followed by a small cup of cream.  “I did say milk,” David muttered under his breath.  “Whatever.  Friday night.”
“Yes.  It is,” Jim replied.  “So, what are you doing here, David?”
“It’s here or the Green Woods.”
“Green Woods?”
“Yeah, Jim.  That’s what we teachers call the spot, where the kids like to go and get high and drunk.  They’re either there or here or at one of their houses, doing something that they probably shouldn’t be.  There’s not much else to do in this small town.”
“I take it that you are not from a small town.”
“No.  I’m not.”
“So, why are you here, teaching in a small town?”  Jim watched the man beside him slowly drink his coffee.  “Something brought you here.”
“You’re too smart.  Do you know that,” and David looked over at him.  “I’m here right now because I don’t sleep.”
“You don’t sleep?  Teaching keeping you up at night?”
“No.  The monsters do,” and he finished his coffee.  


 Now Online: Lizardian Chapter 31

Now Online: Lizardian Chapter 30

Chapter 30:
Jim’s room was above the bagel store on Main Street.  It was right across from the Country Diner.  It was literally one room with a bed and dresser and mini closet.  It was perfect for a temporary stay not a permanent one, and the Asian woman that owned the bagel store below wanted an arm and a leg for it.  It was only when Old Man Moseman heard that Jim was a federal agent that he waived the rent.  He didn’t do that out of the kindness of his heart.  He gave the room to Jim for a favor later on.
Jim sat on his bed.  He rubbed his right hand.  It was red and irritated.  He flexed his hand and then sighed when the bed creaked underneath him.  The mattress was hard as a rock, and he was better off with the floor.  Still, he remained sitting on the bed when frantic knocks fell across his door.  “Henry,” he asked as he opened the apartment door.
“Jim, I know it’s late,” and Henry flew into the room.  “I just wanted to thank you.”
“For what, Henry?”
“For letting me run with the lead.  It was a good lead.  That lady was fucking crazy.  She clawed me up pretty good.”  He ran his fingers through his hair and then showed Jim the ugly scratch marks on both arms.  “The nurse had to treat me with First Aid.  They wanted to take me to the hospital, but I had to come back.  I had to.”
“Henry, calm down.”  Jim reached for him but then thought better of it.  “Just take a breath,” and he moved back toward the bed.

Now Online: Lizardian Chapter 30

Monday, May 23, 2016

Now Online: Lizardian Chapter 29

Chapter 29:
A soft rain had begun to fall.  The street lights along Main Street emanated an eerie glow that lingered along the windshield.  Wipers smacked the glass as cars drove by.  Ten p.m. flashed yellow on the dashboard.  The radio was on low, whispering of Bon Jovi’s song, “Wanted Dead or Alive.”  The darkness creeped in closer, and his hand slowly moved over to his holster.  His fingers just touched the gun when she awoke.
“Where are we,” she said as she rubbed her eyes.  “Crowley?”
“Yeah.  We’re here,” he replied, withdrawing his hand quickly.  “We’re parked across the street from the sheriff’s station.”
As the rain began to fall harder, he peered outside in-between the wiper blades.  It was a small police station.  It reminded him of the police stations used on a local cable network.  In those shows, the sheriff never knew what was going on, or he bit off more than he can chew.  How funny it was to see life imitate art, and that poor bastard inside had no idea of what he was dealing with.  But it didn’t matter.  He was dead.  They were all dead.
“Colonel.”  He pulled his eyes away from the police station to look at the woman riding shotgun.  “We should tell them.”  She bit her lip.  “Before it’s too late.”
Colonel Gabriel Singer silently cursed at the woman next to him.  One more year, and he was going to be eighty.  He had been retired since the incident, and he never expected them to show up at his door.  He never expected that bastard’s body to surface especially after he was supposed to be already dead.  How he wound up here, he had no idea, but him being here only meant one thing.  He had created another monstrosity, and he touched the side of his face, feeling the long, ugly, twisted scar that ran from his right temple down to his chin.  “It’s already too late,” and he exited the car.
“I beg to differ,” Beth Roberts said to herself.  She did not want to be here.  She wanted to be in Washington, but she had no seniority.  So, she was picked for this assignment, and she was stuck here, chasing monsters, monsters that were not supposed to exist.  She was only twenty-five, Asian American, and she was short.  She did not want field work.  Computers were her expertise, but she had to be in the office when that damn call came in.  And here she was, now following some bitter bastard taking his sweet time in the rain before walking into the sheriff’s station.

Now Online: Lizardian Chapter 29

Sunday, May 22, 2016

Now Online: Lizardian Chapter 28

Chapter 28:
It was eight p.m. when the knock came on the door.  It was a soft knock, drowned out by the news booming in the living room.  Then the knock became harder, repeating several times, and the television set was cut short.  Silence followed, and the front door opened.  Then, nothing happened.  At least, nothing yet.
“Allison?”  Eden’s mother gasped.  “What are you doing here?  Did you walk here?”
Eden’s mother was a plump woman with curly, brown hair.  Her blue eyes narrowed as she stared at the young girl standing in front of her screen door.  She looked past her to the outside residential street.  All the cars were dark, and none were parked in front of her house.  And it was gossiped around town how Allison had failed her road test twice, but that didn’t stop the girl from having a night life.  So, what was she doing here on a Friday night standing in front of her home?  “What are you doing here,” Eden’s mother asked her again, but she still didn’t let her in.  A knot turned in her stomach, and Allison never blinked.  “Does your father know that you are here?”
“Why?  You want to call him?  Didn’t he help you out with your mortgage?” 
Eden’s mother’s face flushed.  It was no secret that she almost lost her home, and that was because of her husband.  He had cut her off financially to support his new family, and he didn’t even acknowledge Eden anymore.  As far as he was concerned, they didn’t exist, and because of that, she had to take on two jobs just to make ends meet.  It would have been easier, if Eden had gotten a job to help support them, but Eden wasn’t right.  She had some kind of nervous breakdown, and she blamed it on that sleep away camp.  Her mother blamed it on the divorce especially because Eden was Daddy’s Little Girl.  Right up until he threw her away.  “Yes, he did,” she finally forced herself to say.  “But why are you here?”
“I want to see Eden.  Can I come in?”
“I don’t know.”  She checked her watch, giving her a chance to look away from Allison and her unnerving stare.  “I have to pick up dinner in town.”
“I’ll only be a few minutes,” and Allison smiled a smile that made Eden’s mother shiver.  “Then, I’ll leave.”
“If you are here when I get back, I am calling your father,” and she opened the door.
“I just need a few minutes,” and Allison walked inside.
“Eden, I’m picking up dinner,” her mother hollered up the stairs that were behind her.  “And Allison’s here.”  She grabbed her pocketbook and keys off the table near the front door.  Then, she stepped outside, but she paused, looking at Allison, who was watching her very carefully.  “Allison?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine.  Everything is fine.”
“Okay,” and Eden’s mother closed the front door behind her.
“Everything is just fine,” and Allison made her way up the stairs and toward Eden’s bedroom.

Friday, May 20, 2016

New Publications


"Voices of the World is a poetry anthology that lets poets from all over the world shine and be heard. While being different, these poets are also the same as they share an immense passion for poetry, baring their souls with every creation. With their own unique voices and writing styles, each poet brings something different to Voices of the World, which makes for a unique collection of poetry that is sure to leave a lasting impression on readers everywhere."

http://www.lulu.com/shop/lena-kovadlo/voices-of-the-world-a-poetry-anthology/paperback/product-22663810.html





"Media Bitch™ Literary Agency has gathered together masters of the macabre from across the world in this cornucopia of classic chills and modern menaces all concerning animals. Within these pages you will discover the most successful and exciting writers of horror and dark fiction today, with a spine-chilling selection of stories displaying the full diversity of the genre, from classic pulp style to more contemporary psychological tales, to cutting-edge terror fiction that will leave you uneasily looking over your shoulder, or in the wardrobe, or under the bed . . ."

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Beast-Genesis-Dark-Ethology-One-ebook/dp/B01EFXO1M0/277-4345286-4673714?ie=UTF8&qid=1460987259&ref_=sr_1_1&sr=8



A gruesome murder off Harriman Road sends the small town of Crowley spiraling into suspicion and fear, but is it a wild animal that hunts them down?

http://channillo.com/series/lizardian/

Sunday, May 15, 2016

NEW SHORT STORY: sKiN

sKiN
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

Are you hungry?  Are you thirsty?  Are you cold?  Are you warm?  Are you awake?  Are you aware?  These questions ran on a loop.  It seemed like with every hour, they greeted me as an old friend would, but no face accompanied these words.  I remained alone, locked in solitude.
My black arm rested across my white chest with white fingers curling upon my shoulder.  My head was tilted down, and the bright lights overhead burned against my bald head.  My knees were drawn up to my chin, and my white feet with their black toes stretched back and forth.  My white arm hung to the side, tracing the air with little circles made by delicate, black fingers.  My eyes glanced at the black bar that ran against one breast.  They then roamed across my porcelain body, and finally, I moved, stepping off this metallic block.
The floor was cold.  Shivers ran up from my feet to my spine, but I did not jump back to safety.  I stood, understanding the word, cold.  I knelt downward, pressing my hand against the floor, and again, I shivered.  And I mouthed the word, “Cold,” and I could taste it.  I never realized until now the cold air that was flowing softly, silently into this room, and as my hand rested against the floor, I felt something else.  Movement.  We were moving, but to where?  Where was I going?
My eyes darted around the metallic room.  There were no windows.  There was no sun or moon.  There was nothing but a metallic shiver of a mirror on one side of the room, and I stepped gingerly toward it, wondering what would I see?  I saw me.  My white face.  Another black bar ran from under my right eye down toward my chin.  One eye was white.  The other was black.  My lips were pink, and I stuck out my tongue.  And that too was pink.
I looked back down at my body.  I touched my skin.  It was soft.  Soft.  I knew that word.  Maybe, I would even go with velvet, and my hands traced every part of my curves, my limbs, looking for flaws.  There was none.  At least, I didn’t think so until I felt a small ball beneath my left knee.  What was that, and I shivered again.  This time, it wasn’t from the cold.  Was it from fear?
I sat down on the floor.  I examined the foreign object beneath my skin.  It was not small like a bug bite.  It was not as large as a tennis ball.  It reminded me of something.  A memory.  A little girl asking for a chocolate Easter egg, and yes, that would be the size of it.  But what would an Easter egg be doing in my leg, and who put it there?
I blinked, and then I dug my fingers into my skin.  I scratched and tore.  It hurt.  Then, it hurt a lot, but I didn’t stop.  And now warm, blue fluid raced across my black and white hands.  I was in, pushing past white mesh, and there it was, a metallic ball with blue lights.  As I pulled the strange object out from my leg, the hole that I had made closed shut.  And the pain was gone, and I was left with this Easter egg that I rolled back and forth between my hands.
What did it do?  It was humming.  The blue lights were pulsating.  Was it there to track me?  Was it there to hurt me?  Was it meant to kill me?  Was that why it was there beneath my skin, and again, who put it there?  And now, I went on a mission, re-examining every part of me from head to toe, but there were no more surprises.  No more foreign objects.  Strange, and I leaned against the metallic wall, playing with my new toy.
An hour passed, and those questions returned.  Are you hungry?  Are you thirsty?  Are you cold?  Are you warm?  Are you awake?  Are you aware?  Then, they left, and again, I was alone.
“I’m…”  I opened my mouth.  Such a strange sensation to talk.  I ran my tongue over small, porcelain objects in my mouth.  Teeth.  “I’m cold,” I said, not expecting anything to happen, but then suddenly, the cold air turned off.  “I’m thirsty,” I said, and a bowl of water slid through an opening nearby.
I moved toward the water.  I dipped my fingers into it.  My fingers became wet, and I liked the droplets from them.  I savored the taste of flesh for a moment, and then I drank the water.  Then, I took my toy and rolled it around the now empty bowl.  Was that it?  Did I answer the right questions?  Maybe, I should ask my own, so I did.  “Where are we,” I said into the empty room.  “Where am I?”
“Space,” a voice responded.
“Space,” I responded.  “Why?”
“Research,” the voice returned.
“Research,” I repeated.  “Am I then your prisoner?”
“No,” was my answer, but if that were true, then why was I naked?  Where were my clothes?  Why was part of me white while the other part was black?  What was I doing here?
“Will you let me go,” I asked the room.
“We can’t,” the voice said.  “We need to know.”
“Know,” I asked.
“Will you be our destruction, or will you be our salvation?”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
The metallic room now shivered, and images appeared.  The world was covered in snow, and in the snow, there were people fighting.  There were people dying.  There were people running, trying to escape from those that looked like me, and I inched closer to the images, reaching out to them.  “I do not understand,” I said.
“We saved you,” the voice said.  “Now, save us.”
“Can I save you,” I asked.
“What do you remember,” the voice asked.
I remembered nothing.  I remembered waking up here, curled around my body.  I felt my skin.  I saw myself.  That was it, and why should I care about those people that ran from those like me?  I realized that I did.  I did care, and watching those people being slaughtered had sickened me.  But how do I save them?  “How do I save them,” I asked the room.  “If I wanted to save them, how would I?”
“How would you,” the voice asked me. 
I tried to remember.  I looked at my reflection once more on the wall, and my black eye turned red.  The mirror melted a moment later.  Something was different with me, something that I didn’t realize until now.  My body was tough despite its softness, and I moved about the room, moving faster and faster with every step.  I could do it, I thought.  I could save them, but should I?  Will I?  “If I don’t,” I asked the room.  “Then, what?”
“Then, we leave you here.”
“Where?”
“In space,” was my reply.  “Alone.  Locked in solitude.  Forever.”
I did not want that.  I don’t know how I came here.  I don’t know why I am here, but as I listened to that voice, I knew that it was not robotic.  It was human, and in his words, I felt emotion.  Despair.  Hope.  He was counting on me to accept this fate, and he wasn’t giving me much choice.  It was to save the world or to be locked away forever, and as I listened to his voice, I felt.  I felt my heart beat against my chest.  It had quickened with those images.  It had dropped with those that had died.  I would let my heart decide.  Black or white.  It didn’t matter, and I closed my eyes, listening to every breath that I took, every beat that thundered in my ears.  My heart slowed down, and I returned to my metallic block.  I drew my knees up to my chin and tilted my head down toward my chest.  I rested my black arm across my white chest, curling my fingers upon my shoulder, and I closed my eyes.
“Have you decided,” the voice asked me.
“Yes,” I whispered.  “I will save your world.”

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

The Silent Invasion

The Silent Invasion
by, Melissa R. Mendelson

It was late at night.  It was cold too.  I huddled against my sister in the backseat as she slept soundly.  The night filtered in, and the moon kissed me good-night.  But there was nothing good about this night as the car sped away, and our house burned.

The street lights fell against my mother’s face, giving her a haunted glow.  Her tears were like little white crystals that the darkness eagerly engulfed.  Her soft pink lips pressed together, and then her mouth fell open.  No words escaped.  There was nothing to say.  There was nothing to do.  They had won, and we had to leave.  But where would we go?

My father gripped the steering wheel tightly, so tightly that his knuckles turned white.  He glanced up at me through the rearview mirror.  He refused to speak.  He refused to show emotion, weakness.  He would stay strong.  He had to for the sake of this family, but I knew our loss and their win cut him deeply.  For a long time, he spread warning that the invasion was coming, and some refused to believe.  Others tried to fight, but how can you push back a black swarm bent on total annihilation, chased with their oblivion?  You can’t.

I tried to shake the chill from my bones.  I could hear the heat blowing out of the vents of this old car, begging to reach me.  They fell short, and white breath escaped my lips.  My small hand cleared the window, wiping away the defeat, and I peered outside, trying to penetrate the darkness.  There were no signs of life.  When the invasion came just like my father said it would, most ran.  They knew that there was no point in fighting, but if only they had stayed and fought, then maybe things would have been different.  Instead, they were gone, and now we were running too.

A man caught my attention.  He was dressed in rags with a long, gray overcoat.  His head was hunched down, and he slowly chased his shadow.  He looked my way and then raised a torn gloved hand.  I waved back, noting the sadness in his eyes.  Defeat.  I saw it in my father’s eyes too as he looked back at me in the rearview mirror, and I knew that he wanted to say, “Sit back down.  Don’t stare outside the window.  Go to sleep like your sister.”  He was at a loss for words just like my mother.

Suddenly, I got angry.  My little fists pounded against the seat before me, and I screamed.  I screamed until I thought I would burst, but no sound escaped.  Nothing.  Not even a whisper.  Maybe, just a gasp of air, if I was lucky, and I fell back against my seat, defeated.  How could we have let them do this?  How could we have been so foolish, so quiet until the quiet robbed us blind?  We were wrong, and they won.  They won because they knew that they would win, and they played their wicked games right up until the end.  And it made me want to scream some more, but I was spent.  And again, the moon slipped out from its clouded cage, soothing my wounds and pushing me further into this darkest night.

Saturday, April 02, 2016

Previous Publications

Bartleby Snopes Literary Magazine:

Doll House (Short Story): 2007
Essence (Short Story): 2010
When The Dust Settles (Short Story): 2011

Gadfly Online:

2011: Passenger; No Leaders Among Men

2012: We Are The Villains Of This Story; Letters Cast Away; Leaving Nowhere Behind; After Dark: My Favorite TV Shows; My First Taste of Road Rage; Bleeding Through Reality (Let The Fiction In); Rampage; Going Haywire

2013: Living According to Tolstoy; Welcome Back to Tango of the Road Rage Drivers; When I Tried To Become A 9-1-1 Operator; Alarm Set; King of the Lonely Hill; Never in Stone; Saving Gifted Men and a Touch of Paranormal; (Alien) Baby Got Back; Glass Eyes; One Way Ticket; Friendship Rises Over The Dead Zone; Hail to the Three Kings, Baby; The Death of the State Employee; Heroes in Dark; Beyond The Spielberg Dream (My Love of Science-Fiction); A Brief Glimpse Over The Edge; Ghost in the Sands of White (For Walter White); Bye, Bye Mr. Burn Notice Spy; Simple Thoughts; Feeling Yourself Explode (My Take on Being Mad as Hell); Never Meant to Love

2014: Burning Down The Doll House; Over The Porch; Concrete Dreams; Front Page; Cruising Along Fate's Darkness; Where I Hit Record; The Trouble with Past Lives; NeedlePoint; Rhythm of Life; Checkmate; The NY State of Mind Does Not Brake For Enlightenment; You Killed Me Before; Guns Talk (A Parody of 'Little Talks' by Of Monsters and Men); Bleu Room with a Red Vase: Catching A Star At Jones Beach; Dialing The 4400 (A Parody of Adele's song, Set Fire To The Rain); 'Slip and Fall': A Review of Nick Santora's 2007 Thriller; Movies That Speak Volumes; Faded Shades of Rainbow; Remembering The Final Cut: Dedicated to Robin Williams; Don't Forget To Tip Your Cows; Lies (Parody of Sia's song, Chandelier); I Am A Clone; Here We Go Again (Another Tango Driver); Gold Beyond Blue; If Sam Axe Died; Unions; Fragments of Broken Youth; Extra, Extra; D.T.A.; Footprints in Sand; Alien Dream; Along The Rails; Cellar Dawn; Seeing Through The Facade; Blonde Android Shutdown

2015: Flirting with Revolution; Wanting to be a Cool Kid; The Silent War We Wage; Taking On The Universe; 24 Won't Come Back No More (Parody); Death Made a Pie; Spirits Among Us; Underground; Book Review: The Branches of Time; Gone Without a Trace; The Parachute Kids; The World is not Black and White; The Quiet Room; War Of My World; Remains of Peace; Carry On Winchester Sons (Parody of Kansas's 'Carry On Wayward Son'; Hanging Out in the Drive Thru (Parody of Train's Drive By Song); Book Review: Fifteen Digits; A Bitter Mockery; Blazing Eagle; Comic Book Heroes Gone Wild (Parody of Skid Row's "Youth Gone Wild"); Broken (Parody of Rihanna's "Diamonds"); The Waiting Room; What If Heaven Were Really Real?; The Tin Man's Heart; Missing Horror Movies of Days Long Ago; Iron Thorns; Gone But Not Forgotten

Mouse Tales Press:

Waiting (Short Story): 2011
Clay Pigeon (Short Story): 2012
Bittersweet Farewells (Short Story): 2013

Fiction 365:

Discussion (Short Story): 2011

Jolt Literary Journal:

One Mile Left to Go (Short Story): 2012

The Useless Degree Magazine:

Touch of Winter (Short Story): 2015

Bewildering Stories:

Summer Over The Death of My Youth (Short Story): 2015
I'm Better Off With a Cat (Flash Fiction): 2016

WildSound:

Poem: A Child's Dream: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PjE12-BCy0c

Porcelain Log Line: http://www.wildsoundfestival.com/porcelain_by_melissa_r_mendelson.html

Glass Skies Over Home Log Line: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZE3usyyYlCE

The Unknown Rider (Winner of Twitter Short Story Contest):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aCAMLsxZzRM

Waken Dream Log Line: http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/07/12/video-pitch-for-waken-dream-novel-by-melissa-r-mendelson/

Lizardian Log Line:  http://wildsoundfestivalreview.com/2015/10/16/video-pitch-for-lizardian-novel-by-melissa-r-mendelson/

Poem: Fragments: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L8tsG8Vesj8

Live Reading: Lizardian Chapter 1:  http://novelwritingfestival.com/2016/03/09/watch-chapter-1-transcript-reading-of-lizardian-by-melissa-r-mendelson-performed-by-amaka-umeh/

Bystander Magazine:

Glimpse Over Darkness (Poetry): 2015

Antarctica Journal Publications:

Poetry:
Shining Through The Echo (For Robin Williams);  Are We Real;  Behind The Door;  Here;  Stone Slate;  Dream Always;  The Hole Within Us;  In Shadow;  Memorial;  Scarred; Today; What Is Family; Cruelty

Poetry Featured in the 2015 Soul Fountain Anthology of Poetry

Art/Photography:
Farmland;  Kayaker;  Blue Surface;  Silent Post;  Who's Ready For Church;  Fog Rolling In; Manhattan (4 Photographs); Country Fair (4 Photographs); Long Beach, NY (4 Photographs); City Drive (4 Photographs); Country Fair 2 (4 Photographs); Abandoned (4 Photographs)

Song Lyrics:
Remember;  Shut;  On White Wings I Fly;  Comic Book Heroes Gone Wild; Supernatural Love; I Am A Clone; I'm Not Coming Home For Christmas; Wings of Gray; Paint My Heart Red

Music Review:

Spaceship and "Shake Time Loose"; When I Listen To Music

Book Review:
Lizardian

TV Review: 
Just Talking About Science-Fiction

Blog Talk Radio Interview: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/cagmedia/2016/01/30/an-artist-speaks-season-5-episode-1-with-guest-artist-melissa-mendelson