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New Short Story: A Pale, Cold Night Now on Amazon Kindle

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“Do I look like a cop,” and she leaned close again.  Her skin had a sick glow to it, and I moved further back into my chair.  And then I realized that I was warm, and her eyes sparked with amusement.  “Are you a killer?” “Watch it, lady,” I snapped, but I glanced down at my hands. “No blood stains,” and again, her gaze folded over me, hollowing me out from the inside.  “All evidence gone, and nobody’s going to miss him.”  Now, she leaned back in her chair.  “I wonder.  Will anyone miss you?” “You threatening me?”  She didn’t answer.  “I could snap your neck with my bare hands.  Snap.” “If only I wasn’t dead,” she replied, and my heart dropped in my chest.  “Did you know that?” “Let me go,” I said.  “Just let me get out of here.” “You never cared about anyone.  Did you, Dallas?  Not your parents or your sister or your girlfriend or your friend.” “Stop it!”  I didn’t mean to yell, but I did.  I screamed like a little girl.  “Knock it off.” “You’ve been empty your whole damn life.  Don’…

Hello, 2019

We've just crossed the threshold into a new year, and I've been plugging away, writing my Horror novel.  Half the book is done now, and the best part is yet to come.
In the meantime, I just posted some new photography on Fine Art America: https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/melissa-mendelson.html
I hope that you will check it out, and I hope you had a great New Year's.  :)

-Melissa R. Mendelson

Short Story: The Imitation of Death Published by Sirens Call Publications

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Harold Gate reached into the bag.  He pulled out six hideous masks.  They almost looked like Halloween masks, and they reminded me of those Zombie movies.  They were awful to look at it, and the mask that was placed into my hands didn’t feel like rubber or plastic.  It just gave me a weird vibe.  “Put them on,” Harold Gate said, and everyone did except for me. 

Read more of my short story, The Imitation of Death for free in the Sirens Call December 2018 Issue #42.



http://www.sirenscallpublications.com/pdfs/SirensCallEZine_December2018.pdf

New Song Lyrics: Holding onto Midnight

Holding onto Midnight by, Melissa R. Mendelson
I spent a long time on the road, Running from my demons, And if not for my Grandma, I would be all alone. And then my Grandma told me That Midnight was the place to be.
Midnight was a strange town With death by the river. So many ghosts here, So much pain and terror. But the worst was yet to come For the veil was becoming undone. The devil was rising, And only I was the chosen to fight him And send him back to hell.
Chorus: The battle for Midnight brought this town to its knees, But when the dust settled, we were still standing. And we thought we had finally found peace. But the war was still waging, And our lives were to be lost. And now Midnight needs saving. Won’t you come and save us?
Her beauty was consuming, Swallowing my pain. I thought we were the solution To love’s wicked game. But only I was her fool. Patience was her name. 
Now, the witches are dancing, And Midnight’s in flames. My head is spinning, And the world will never be the same. But we Midnighters still…

Work-in-Progress

For awhile now, I've been working on my second novel, Ghost in the Porcelain.  This horrifying tale is the prequel to my story, Porcelain, which I plan on revamping in 2019.  Right now, I'm hoping to complete my novel by January 1st, which is why this blog has been left to the side.  And I apologize for that.

Earlier this year, I wrote a short story called, The Broken Dolls, which introduces you to the victims and the chaos that the doll left behind.  This doll has been around for a very long time, and there are a lot of victims.  And the end is far from near...


The Broken Dolls Melissa R. Mendelson
The house was quiet.  The walls were bare.  Family photographs were tucked away in cardboard boxes.  The staircase was dusty as if to cover any tracks of what had happened here, but the truth were the holes in the walls that still echoed with misery.  One cardboard box was torn open, and inside were broken dolls.  Their arms and legs stuck through the sides of the box, and their deca…

Short Story: When The Pennies Fall

When The Pennies Fall
(Inspired by Rest Haven, Monroe, NY) Melissa R. Mendelson
The birds wake me up in the morning with their chirping and flapping.  I hear them inside the walls.  I always wondered how they got in there, but it was a familiar, comforting sound.  There was no sound today.  That bothered me.  Summer was not over yet, and they usually left right before winter.  Then, they would return, telling me that spring was on its way.  They should be chirping and flapping right about now, but they weren’t.  And the silence broke into a symphony of snores. Becky had started to sneak into my room at night.  She didn’t want to startle me by crawling into the bed.  The bed was also small, so she slept on the arm chair to the left in the corner.  I didn’t know she was there until she started to snore.  Sometimes, she would even talk in her sleep.  At least, she would try to.  It was like she was chasing conversations with a ghost. The breakfast call sounded from the kitchen and marched up …