Knot of Souls by Christine Amsden #UrbanFantasy #Friendship #Buddies


Fictional Characters I Would Invite to a Halloween Party

by: Christine Amsden
 
1. The Great Pumpkin, who rises out of the pumpkin patch with his bag of toys for all the children! 

2. Casper, the friendly ghost … nobody really wants to get scared, do they?

3. Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby Doo … and if they insist, Daphne and Fred. (Will need to put lots of Scooby snacks on the shopping list.)

4. Wednesday Addams, objectively the best Addams. Thing can be her plus one. 

5. Frankenstein’s Monster … no Dr. Frankenstein, of course. But his poor, misunderstood monster

6. And adding to our list of misunderstood antagonists … Maleficent, the version played by Anjelica Huston

7. Waldo, but I don’t know where to send the invitation

8. Thor, because Loki might be more Halloweeny but Thor is more … everything else

9. The Ghostbusters. Oh, wait, I’m inviting Casper! Maybe not the Ghostbusters. Or maybe I just ask them to check their weapons at the door.

10. The Grinch. Hey, maybe if somebody reaches out and makes him feel included, he won’t steal Christmas! 



Knot of Souls
Christine Amsden

Genre: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: Christine Amsden
Date of Publication: May 20, 2025
ISBN: 979-8283019284
ASIN: B0F7Y8YST6
Number of pages: 384
Word Count: 102,000
Cover Artist: BZN Studio Designs

Book Description:

Two souls, one body … 

When Joy wakes up in an alley, she knows three things: she was brutally murdered, she has somehow come back to life ... and she is not alone. She’s been possessed by an inhuman presence, a being that has taken over her dying body. That being is powerful, in pain, and on the run from entities more dangerous than he is.

Shade, a Fae prince on the run, didn’t mean to share the body he jumped into. Desperate and afraid, accused of a murder he didn’t commit, he only sought a place to hide—but if he leaves Joy now, he faces discovery and a fate worse than death.

Forced to work together to solve multiple murders, including her own, Joy and Shade discover hidden strengths and an unlikely friendship. Yet as their souls become increasingly intertwined, they realize their true danger might come from each other … and if they don't find a way to untangle the knot their souls have become, then even the truth won't set them free.

Knot of Souls is a stand-alone buddy love fantasy that forces two very different beings to work together … and come out stronger on the other side.

Free Through Kindle Unlimited

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Excerpt Chapter 1

Joy


The first thing I realized, after I died, was that my body could walk and talk and no longer needed my help for any of it. I was in there, able to look through my eyes and hear through my ears, but even the simple task of aiming my gaze had slipped outside my control. I was a passenger inside my own mind, an observer along for the ride.

Kristen had been right, I thought numbly as I struggled to make sense of my new reality. Had it only been lunchtime today when she’d told me I’d never get ahead if I didn’t learn to assert myself? “Take control of your life,” she’d said, “or others will take it for you.”

She couldn’t have been thinking of anything quite so literal. Whatever was happening to me, it wasn’t because I’d failed to advocate for a promotion at work or refused to ask out a coworker.

Right?

My body reached my car and slid behind the wheel. A rattled thought—not my own—cursed as it tried to understand how the contraption worked. How much can cars have changed in only a century? Visions accompanied the thoughts, memories—again not my own—of a classic car, gleaming black and elegant, its top down, my bobbed hair whipping around my face as I laughed with glee, a white-faced young man at my side gripping the door, begging me to slow down. I did not.

Which brings me to the second thing I realized, after I died: I was no longer alone inside my own mind.

Whoever was in there didn’t seem to have noticed me yet. Fine. I slid into the smallest corner of my brain I could find, ignoring the intruder as they struggled to figure out how to work an automatic transmission. Maybe they’d get frustrated and give up and go find someone else’s body to possess.

Holy shit! I’ve been possessed by the ghost of someone who died in like 1930.

But why?

I tried to remember what had happened, but the images danced just out of reach. I recalled that the night had been unseasonably cold for October, the chill biting through my inadequate jacket as I hurried to my car, parked in a garage two blocks away from the shelter where I’d been volunteering. Hugging my arms around my torso for warmth, I took a shortcut through an alley and …

There was a noise. I’d startled, my heart pounding in my throat, already on edge because of the argument.

Wait. Back up. There’d been an argument. That seemed significant, but my scattered thoughts couldn’t piece it together as yet, not when a bodily intruder fumbled at the gearshift of my two-month-old Hyundai Accent with only fifty-eight “low monthly payments” left to go.

Low is such a relative word.

My beautiful new, inexpensive (also relative) car jerked suddenly backwards out of its parking spot as the voice in my head grew angrier and more frustrated and … afraid. I saw flashes, images I didn’t understand of multi-colored ghosts who seemed to be singing. The more they sang, the more desperate I felt as fear, my own and somehow not my own, made it hard to breathe.

We streaked across the nearly empty parking lot in reverse, almost colliding with the only other vehicle in the place—a red SUV with scratched paint and a dented front bumper suggesting it regularly attracted unwanted attention from other cars. I tried to scream, but didn’t have control of my voice. I tried to hit the brakes, but instead the possessing spirit shifted from reverse to drive without stopping. The grinding of gears made me want to weep, but we came to a stop, breathing heavily, muscles tensed as if in expectation of attack.

They destroyed her. They tore her apart.

I had no time to wonder what any of that meant before the thing possessing my body channeled its anger and grief into a force I’d never experienced or even known existed. One second, the battered red SUV was parked inches from my back bumper, the next, it flew through the air, smashing against a far wall, its frame crumpling like an accordion.

I tried to make myself even smaller, a nearly impossible feat, but I couldn’t let it know I was in here. If it could do that to an SUV, I didn’t want to think about what it might be able to do to me.

Now what?

For one, panic-filled moment, I thought I’d asked the question. Then I realized I wasn’t the only one trying to figure things out.

My car rolled forward again, its speed uneven, first too fast and then—I slammed on the brakes. Well, maybe I didn’t do it, maybe the thing inside me had the same idea as me, but the car skidded to a halt so it just kissed a large concrete pillar. At least it’s just the paint, I tried to tell myself, but rage welled up within me and my fist slammed into the center of the steering wheel, eliciting an angry honk.

An ominous crack formed in the concrete pillar, more evidence, in case I needed it, that the thing invading my body had powers beyond belief. Then came more rattled thoughts that were definitely not my own:

Who thought it was a good idea to build obstacle courses in the sky? Is there not enough room on the ground? Too damn many humans …

Once again, I drew away from the voice in my head. If I hadn’t lost all connection to my body, I’d be trembling, but even so, I felt the sort of cold that seeps through to the soul.

The third thing I realized, after I died, was that the thing possessing me wasn’t a ghost. Or at least, not the ghost of a human.

My car backed away from the concrete column and maneuvered around it to continue the winding path down … down … down to the exit.

Where was my body going and why? More importantly, what would happen if I made myself known and asked?

I reeled at the thought, mentally slinking all the way back to the homeless shelter where I’d been volunteering in the hours before my death. I’d had a crappy day and needed to channel that into a sharp reminder that plenty of people had it much, much worse. Their circumstances, their personalities, their trials and tribulations didn’t fit neatly in the lock box some tried to label and forget, but all of them struggled in some way. They needed help, and sometimes I needed to be needed; it helped me feel less alone.

Tonight, though … tonight there’d been a problem. I remembered having a nice chat with one of the regulars, Roger, big-hearted and with a certain excited energy about him. He’d found a job and was working hard to get back on his feet, but he still couldn’t find a place to rent after being evicted from his old apartment. Now, he lived in his car except when the nights grew too cold, and he was always there to lend a helping hand or just to listen. He had a way of getting people to open up, even me.

He’s the one who jumped in when Thomas started getting belligerent, ranting and raving about false witnesses and evil spirits. The whole thing was so sudden and confusing, I’m not even sure how it happened. One second I’m chatting with Roger about the crappy end to a crappy day—accidentally seeing porn on a coworker’s computer—the next Thomas is in my face, grabbing a fistful of my shirt as he accused me of being a liar, of being in league with the demon spirits, demanding I admit that I could see them too. I was off balance;, I don’t know what I said, I only know what I felt. There was a moment when I looked into his eyes and saw fear and desperation reflected back at me. Then he was being dragged away, thrown out of the shelter …

But he hadn’t been the one to sneak up behind me and kill me. I thought he was, at first. When I heard the noise in the alley, I jumped and looked around, sure it would be Thomas. But it was someone else.

No, not someone else, something else. The thing possessing me wasn’t the first nonhuman I’d encountered tonight. That honor belonged to a blur, a shadow, a … the only way I could think to describe it was as if a small child had found a gray crayon and colored over an otherwise human shape.

I knew I’d died. The bright light I’d only heard about—never believed in—had beckoned and I’d known it was over. Dead in a cold alley; would anyone notice before morning? Who would even mourn me? I had few friends and fewer attachments. No husband or kids, not even a boyfriend. My cat would probably find someone else to feed her. Some might say that was a blessing, not to leave anyone behind, but all I saw was lost potential. If only … the words that would follow me into my lonely grave.

Where had the light gone? I’d seen it, I’d hesitated, I’d wondered if there really was a god after all, and then …

… my body was walking and talking and thinking and acting and I was along for the ride.

My beautiful blue car, none the worse for wear, exited the garage without running into anything else and turned onto the empty city street. Fewer cars might mean lower odds of getting into another accident, although it was clear the thing in my body had little experience driving. It swerved left and right, unable to center itself in the lane, and braked suddenly at a flashing yellow stoplight, which bent backwards in reaction.

That’s when I reached the final—and belated—realization of the most bizarre night of my life. (Afterlife?) If I didn’t take over the driving of this vehicle, I’d die. Again. 


About the Author:

Christine Amsden is the author of nine award-winning fantasy and science fiction novels, including the Cassie Scot Series.

Speculative fiction is fun, magical, and imaginative but Christine believes great speculative fiction is about real people defining themselves through extraordinary situations. She writes primarily about people, and it is in this way that she strives to make science fiction and fantasy meaningful for everyone.

In addition to writing, Christine is a freelance editor and political activist. Disability advocacy is of particular interest to her; she has a rare genetic eye condition called Stargardt Macular Degeneration and has been legally blind since the age of eighteen. In her free time, she enjoys role playing, board games, and a good cup of tea. She lives in the Kansas City area with her husband and two kids.







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Author Interview- Electric Titan by C.R. Reardon #YASciFi #SciFi #DisabilityLit

What inspired you to become an author?

I wrote a poem for a 7th grade project about my experience with a childhood brain tumor. My mom’s side of the family has writers, so maybe that’s why it clicked.

Do you have a specific writing style?

I would say I’m more of a pantser. I love spontaneously adding details and connections that make the characters and text richer.

Do you write in different genres?

Yes, poetry [4 books] and literary fiction.  

If yes which is your favorite genre to write?

poetry

How did you come up with the title for your latest book?

Do you title the book first or wait until after it’s complete?

The title came first.

Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?

Just the randomness of life and how fast it can change…disability is not something to fear…if you are disabled, you will eventually become whole just as you are..It helps to have faith.

Is the book, characters, or any scenes based on a true life experience, someone you know, or events in your own life?

December 20th–when Rosa has her procedure–was the day of my first brain surgery.

Of all the characters you’ve ever written, who is your favorite and why?

Doc Star. She is a feisty black socialite from Savannah, Georgia,  who uses a wheelchair. She’s a fashionista and keeps in shape by boxing.

What books/authors have influenced your life?

David Foster Wallace, Murikami, Aleksandr Isayevich Solzhenitsyn


Can you share a little of your current work with us?

From my new book of poetry, Disablé:

Interstellar

It hurts to look in the mirror

Survive the Hawking Radiation,

Dip below the Event Horizon 

Into a wormhole that

Passes celestial palaces and

Planets like irises,

Through crystallized frost, the expanding darkness,

And arrive at a dimension that harnesses magic.


After a decade of being,

Two constants broke with the dawn:

The invisible thing and

Time—both undefined.

For twenty-five years, a quarter of a century,

No hand held mine,

No lips touched mine,

No ethereal spell kept us intertwined.

I speak not of affection from friends and family,

But of the pillar that sustains societies.

The tender clay that every soul deserves.


In these infinite-scroll days,

With tribal huts, digital lust,

Self-monitoring sunset sluts,

And filters generating melancholy ruts—

I have rolled naked for all to see,

For all to swipe pass. So, what could it be?

Why when the hot bots eye me

Must they see an easy mark? Why

Must the endorphin rush of

New calligraphy

Fade like fire?


Perhaps my texts did not strike 

To the superstring’s like.

Perhaps they are forever in a superposition, 

Stretching my mind’s matter.

Tectonic plates once pushed pressure onto the other 

But how much force led to an answer?

The gaul of me to have romantic desires!


Am I deranged?

Is there such a thing as blame?


Nymphs actions are difficult to convict

When I would have helmed the same sleeping ship—

If the Sun penetrated me the same way as they,

If hikes by rocky waterfalls filled my day.

These ice-olating, unaware rains

Are my eternal fountain of pain.


I’m tired of being Her good deed for the day.


And what am I to think–

Of these profiles with height requirements

And pleas for openmindedness–

If I am to ever own a home or

Earn an income after

Being sequestered like a leper in a slum?


How should I proceed? Is my pride in need?

Or is it as wide as the horizon?


Should I forget the stillness in my bedroom,

How the chromatic light on the lamppost loomed

Where I once played with ghosts under the moon?


Alas, it would have been easy

To twixt my mature soul with a ripe one 

Like I had done

In my dreams—

No need to scheme,

Be seen on the scene, waste time

Fumbling words, lie like fiends, play

The game in an endless stream.


A tyrant has ruled my days,

And if this is the fate

I am doomed to face

I will abandon my sojourn

To be more free, but how free?

I would possess

The anchor of time, but would I hear

The music of wind chimes?


Now, I am a nebula’s shepherd

Waiting to be discovered.


Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?

I am terrible with plot. I’m more focused on smaller, character moments.

Who designed the cover of your latest book?

Spanish author and artist Sofia Sanz

Do you have any advice for other writers?

Take courses, learn the methods, then don’t listen to any advice. And don’t TRY to write.

Do you have a song or playlist (book soundtrack) that you think represents this book?

I Am Not A Robot by Marina

What would your readers be surprised to learn about you?

I used to be really into rap music.

When you’re not writing what do you do? Do you have any hobbies or guilty pleasures?

I am a huge cinephile. Sports have always ben in my family. Basketball, football, soccer, volleyball, track. And I like poker.



Electric Titan
C.R. Reardon

Genre: Science Fiction, Young Adult, Disability
Publisher: C.R.  Reardon
Date of Publication: 6/13/1986
ISBN: 979-8-9920346-0-8
ASIN: B0F44JVWL9
Number of pages: 225
Word Count: 64,117 
Cover Artist: Sofia Sanz

Tagline: 17-year-old Rosa Viviani grapples with her newfound disability, a meteor emerges from the depths of space, hurtling toward Titan with the potential to destroy everything.

Book Description:

Rosa Viviani, a seventeen-year-old girl living in the utopian colony of Civigem on Saturn’s moon Titan, faces a series of life-altering events. In a society where disability has been eradicated through genetic engineering, Rosa becomes one of the few individuals who must navigate life with a hoverchair. As she grapples with her newfound disability, a meteor emerges from the depths of space, hurtling toward Titan with the potential to destroy everything.

Amidst the chaos, Rosa's connection to an ancient Earth religion awakens within her a mystical power that could save Civigem from the impending catastrophe. Guided by the wisdom of goddesses and unwavering support from her parents and girlfriend, Rosa embarks on a journey of self-discovery, confronting her fears and insecurities while learning to harness her newfound abilities. As the meteor's impact looms closer, Rosa must confront the limitations of her powers, the fragility of life, and the complexities of love in a society that has long forgotten the meaning of community.

In a race against time, Rosa's journey becomes a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, the power of love, and the importance of embracing life's uncertainties. As she confronts the impending apocalypse, Rosa's story challenges the utopian ideals of Civigem, exposing the deep-seated prejudices and the hidden costs of a society that has long suppressed the natural diversity of human existence.

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Excerpt: Day 1

When I first used my hoverchair, nobody told me about the unexpectedness. I didn’t know I’d be the only young woman on Titan using one. When I’d run my last Convalor, climb my last staircase to a house. Traverse a ravine’s rocks. I wish I could have readied myself for things like my last walk with my dad along the lakeshore, but life doesn’t always give us time to prepare.

Dark brown clouds slit the dusky morning sky. I lay in bed reading Village Sisters on my tabicus, trying to learn what life would be like for me in a hoverchair. The Village Sisters was written on Earth about the bond between an African-Japanese beauty queen and her best friend, who broke her spine in a tsunami.

An empty frame hung in front of my bed next to the window. I didn’t want to see me standing with my friends at Lucky’s Tavern. The obligatory smiles and people I barely knew now felt like a past life. The picture was only a year old, but still.

I always kept sunflowers on the table beside my bed to brighten my mood. Next to the sunflowers, my elegant ballerina motivated me to strive for grace and good posture. The best thing I ever got from the Keller Aviary was a fluffy, stuffed butterfly that I named Ms. Monarch and rested on my bed. Like many times since the incident, I embraced her and squeezed tight.

Then, just before the announcement, a tingling shot down my right arm. Was I numb from squeezing Ms. Monarch too hard? Was it a side effect of the surgery? It felt like hot wax on my skin–but somehow empowering?

My body jerked upright. My arm swung like a directional arrow. I had no control of it.

My hand and arm lined up with a Faberge egg on my dresser. It was a family heirloom passed down to my dad’s disabled relative. This, in part, is why I believe our lives are echoes of our ancestors. We’re the same stars, just moving through different galaxies.

The heirloom navigated our solar system aboard the U.S.S. Freedom. The maroon and gold Faberge egg rattled out of its four pure white supports, fell to the floor, and shattered.

I thought someone might’ve bumped into my dresser the night before. Maybe they nudged it off its axis, and that’s why it toppled over this morning.

The pneumonia rains started, and I was content watching them splatter the bubble and cascade down, but we all know what happens now.

The Urgent News banner appeared on my tabicus. I turned the volume up. Remember that image? The mayor drooped like a geranium.

“Fellow citizens, I come to you today with the heaviest of hearts. I sincerely hope that every individual heed this news with the understanding that the best course of action for every life was attempted.” Her shoulders rose and fell like the Magic Islands. “Several weeks ago, a volcano on Jupiter’s moon Io dispelled lava that somehow escaped its gravitational pull and froze, hurtling it into space. This is the meteor I’m sure many of you have heard about on the news. The meteor is one point-six kilometers in diameter and travels at a speed of thirty-six kilometers per second. I regret to inform you that it is headed directly for Titan, and it’s too late to stop it.

“The meteor will make an impact with Titan in six days and destroy everything, including our beloved–” I felt so bad for her when her voice cracked, and she began to tear up. “Civigem.”

 

About the Author:

A brain tumor survivor since the age of 8, and handicapped since the age of 10, C.R. Reardon is now 39 years old. He fell in love with creative writing after writing a poem about these hardships in the 7th grade. Since then, he has self-published four books of poetry: Disablé  (2025), Born on Friday the 13th (2018), Torghatten (2016), and Hard Polish (2013). After 2 years at The University of Arizona, C.R. graduated from Stonehill College in 2009 and earned his Master's degree in English from Salem State University in 2011.

His screenplay Lagom (the Swedish word for 'just the right amount') was a finalist for best screenplay at the 2017 Massachusetts Independent Film Festival, as well as the 2015 Catalina Film Festival.  In 2016 my screenplay Spawning Neon was a semi-finalist at the 16th annual Awareness Film Festival.









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Author Sign-Ups are Open for the 10th Annual Bewitching Book Tours' Haunted Halloween Spooktacular

This special Halloween book tour package offers authors individual tours combined with the cross-promotion of an overall Halloween event with a group Rafflecopter October 1-29 

For $99 each participating author will receive:

  • 1 month Halloween Theme Virtual Book Tour (retail value $150)
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Sponsor the Spooktastic Haunted Book Fair – Promote Your Business & Support a Spooky Good Time!



I’m excited to announce the upcoming Spooktastic Haunted Book Fair, taking place on October 18 in Flint, Michigan. This unique event celebrates all things spooky and bookish, bringing together local authors, artists, crafters, and the community for an unforgettable afternoon filled with haunted fun, literature, and creativity.

To help make this event a success, I’m seeking sponsors who would be willing to donate $25 to support the fair. In return for your generosity, your business will receive promotion through:

  • The Bewitching Book Tours website
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This is a great opportunity to support local creators and reach a niche audience that loves books, Halloween, and handmade goods.

I’m also assembling goodie bags for attendees and would love to include donated items from authors and makers—such as coupons, samples, bookmarks, pens, buttons, or any small promotional items you’d like to contribute.

Your support helps cover event expenses and allows us to create a memorable experience for all who attend.

If you’re interested in sponsoring or donating items, please contact me at roxannerhoads@bewitchingbooktours.com by September 1.

Thank you for considering supporting the Spooktastic Haunted Book Fair—we’d be thrilled to partner with you to make this event magical!

Spookily yours,

Roxanne Rhoads

Event Organizer – Spooktastic Haunted Book Fair

Owner – Bewitching Book Tours

https://www.bewitchingbooktours.com/ 



Celebrating Halloween with Hunter Shea #HalloweenMonth #Horrortober


Halloween is a big deal in my house. In fact, for us, it’s more than just a single day – it’s an entire month! We’ve even given it a name – Horrortober. We spend the rest of the year preparing for Horrortober and the big capper, Halloween itself. 

What to Read – Since we’re all big readers, during the year we’ll come across certain books, short stories and magazines that we feel have that perfect Halloween vibe. So we’ll set them aside to be read during the month of Horrortober. But we have to be mindful of our time, because there’s always so much to do. It won’t do to have a TBR pile taller than Leprechaun, because we want to get through them all by Halloween night. 

What to Watch – This is very important. About 15 years ago, I said I was going to watch one horror movie a day for the month of October. It was a fun little challenge guaranteed to fill my days and nights with my favorite frights. I even bought a notebook to track the movies I watched, while giving them each a rating on my unique scale. All movies are rated between 1 and 9 tana leaves (the brew that keeps the Mummy alive!). It didn’t take long for 31 movies to be the low bar. Now, I usually watch between 70 and 80 movies during Horrortober. It’s a full time job and I love it. There are certain classics that are always in the rotation (like The House of the Devil, The Fog, Halloween, Trick r Treat, etc) and a smattering of new or newly found releases. 

What to Write – Despite all of the books I want to read and movies I want to watch, I always seem to have a writing project to tackle during Horrortober as well. Carving out an hour a day to scribble, I escape deeper into the genre I love best. Though for the past couple of years, I’ve been on deadlines with non-horror writing projects. I’ll need to change that this year. 

What to Do – When I was a kid, there weren’t many fun choices for the Halloween season. You bought your costume at Woolworth, went trick or treating and checked your candy before eating it. The days leading up to it were just like any other day. Now, there are tons of fun things to do like visit a haunted house (constructed for the season or real) or cemetery (I highly recommend visiting historic Sleepy Hollow Cemetery for their night tours at least once in your life). Horror conventions abound where you can grab cool merch, movies, and meet some of your favorite horror actors and creators. Some amusement parks go full on Halloween for the season. Movie theaters and drive-ins bring back classics that most people have never seen on the big screen (and they go toward your Horrortober movie watch goals!). Imagine seeing The Shining or The Thing at a drive-in on a cold fall night. Brrrr AND awesome. And let’s not forget decorating the house. Between pop up Spirit Halloween stores and Home Depot, you can really glam the ol homestead up. Back when I was a kid, your mother bought some cardboard witches to tape to the wall. That was it. We’ve come a long way! 

The Big Night – We are very fortunate to live in a location that sees a ton of trick or treaters. I’m talking 600 or more little visitors craving treats. Halloween night becomes a kind of block party where most of the houses are decorated and loaded with goodies, with music echoing across the night, adults all dressed up (I’m usually Bigfoot, or, one year, Elvira) and the tiny cries of “Trick or Treat!” heard everywhere. We’re known as the house that gives out juice boxes. You get real thirsty bopping from house to house. Some years, we’ll even prepare for the parents, having beer on hand and cigars. I mean, they deserve a treat, too! I love giving out treats while acting like a lunatic in my costume to make the kids laugh (or scream in fright at the sight of Bigfoot in their suburban neighborhood). By the time Halloween night is over, we’re all tapped out, with barely enough energy to shuck off our costumes, crawl into bed, and fall asleep to one last movie before the clock strikes midnight. 

Combustible
Hunter Shea 

Genre: Horror/Post Apocalyptic/Dark Humor
Publisher: Dark Wolf Books
Date of Publication: 6/17/2025
ISBN: 979-8895678923
ASIN: B0F7Z8X3C5
Number of pages: 374
Word Count: 94,000

Tagline: POST-APOCALYPTIC HORROR MEETS THRILLER IN A DYSTOPIAN NIGHTMARE OF FIRE AND ASH.

Book Description:

The world didn't end with a bang or a whimper...it ended with people bursting into flames.

Across the globe, spontaneous human combustion (SHC) is turning ordinary citizens into living infernos. Governments collapse, cities fall silent, and the air itself tastes like ash. Society burns while the lucky few are left to wonder: When will it be me?

Sam and Aja were already falling apart before the fires came. Now, trapped in a crumbling apartment and suffocating under the weight of isolation, their love feels just as doomed as the rest of humanity. But when whispers spread of a small Canadian town called Consumption, untouched by the inferno, hope flickers.

Stealing an RV and refusing to leave Aja behind, Sam sets out on a desperate, ash-streaked journey through a burned-out North America. With his best friend in tow and a growing crew of strange, unforgettable survivors, they chase rumors through a landscape warped by horror, madness, and the heat of human combustion.

Perfect for fans of The Gone-Away World by Nick Harkaway and Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion, Combustible is a harrowing, darkly tender exploration of what survives when everything else burns. Will love endure in a world destined to ignite?

Excerpt:

There were shouts within and then banging, followed by the distinctive sound of splintering wood. I watched a man rush into the room and douse the flames with a handheld fire extinguisher. I got to walking before the smoke settled. I had a pretty good idea of what I’d see and my day was already shit enough.

I hurried around the corner and almost whooped out a hallelujah when I saw the gate to Singa’s was up.

My enthusiasm was tempered when I looked through the window. The place had been ransacked.

Singa, at least that’s what I assumed his name was since he was always there, sat behind the counter reading an old newspaper.

“What happened in here?” I said.

The shelves had all been knocked down, glass to the cold cases reduced to pebbles, boxes, bottles and cans strewn about as if the entire store had been invaded by a mosh pit.

Singa, who had been old to begin with, looked like he’d aged twenty years. The bags under his eyes were dark and had an almost crispy texture. Those umber eyes held back tears that threatened to fall any second. He looked around the remains of his store in a daze.

“Humanity happened,” he said, his voice, like his gaze, far, far away.

I put a fifty-dollar bill on the counter. “You mind if I see if there’s anything worth saving?

“Keep your money.” He either avoided my gaze or thought he was talking to a ghost. “Money burns. We all burn.”

I snatched a reusable bag from the floor and got on my hands and knees, looking for anything that had been left whole. I came up with a box of elbow macaroni, a can each of beets, sliced potatoes and artichoke hearts, three bottles of off-brand water, and a box of stuffing mix. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

I slung the bag over my shoulder. “Is…is there anything I can do for you?”

His eyes slowly found mine. “Yes.” He opened his palm. In the center, I saw a tiny pile of black specks. “Run.”

Singa dipped his head and inhaled the powder like a cokehead fresh from rehab.

The sneeze came instantly.

The flames seemed to burst from every pore of his body.

I jumped back and slipped on a pile of debris, sure that the heat had singed my eyebrows.

Poor Singa slumped into his chair and burned without a sound.

It took a few attempts to get to my feet and run out of the store. In my mad dash back home, my heavy breathing popped the tampons loose. I didn’t stop to look for them.

I noticed fires in other windows.

The one that had been put out earlier was back, blazing again. SHC was like that sometimes. Someone on the radio had called it ‘almost sentient.’ It didn’t like it when people put it out. So, it came back with a vengeance. This time, no one tried to extinguish it.

In fact, there were tendrils of smoke everywhere as far as I could see. And nowhere could you hear the sound of a single fire engine. What was the point?

Oddly, what disturbed me most was when one of the feral cats hiding under a car gave a loud sneeze. It burst into flame immediately. The fleeing blur of burning hair and flesh went headfirst into a wall, made a sharp turn and disappeared down an alley, leaving grayish smoke in its wake.

 

About the Author:

Often called THE KING OF THE CRYPTIDS, Hunter Shea is a lifelong horror hound and NY Times bestselling author of over forty books of monstrous mayhem, ghostly frights, and newfound terrors. Some of his bestselling books include the critically acclaimed Creature, They Rise, and The Montauk Monster, the nostalgic Money Back Guaranteed and One Size Eats All series, and Jessica Backman’s Death in the Afterlife paranormal trilogy. His books have been found in the International Cryptozoology Museum and his face on the Discovery Channel where he talks about, well, monsters.

He can be heard and seen on his two long-running podcasts, Final Guys and Monster Men, both informed and humorous explorations of horror’s best – and worst – movies, books, and video games, as well as interviews with some of the hottest writers, directors and producers in the genre. You’ll also find exciting first-hand accounts of true-life hauntings, UFOs, cryptid encounters and more.

Website – www.huntershea.com








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Join Me This Weekend at Crossroads Village!

 


Find me in the Millstreet Warehouse!


Curious at Crossroads
June 21 & 22
11am- 5pm

Crossroads Village & Huckleberry Railroad
6140 Bray Rd, 
Flint, MI

Step into the strange as the historic Crossroads Village turns into an asylum of the wildly weird at Curious at Crossroads: Oddities Fest! 

Explore over 100 unique vendors, check out one of our guest speakers, grab some lunch from a food truck or the Crossroads Café, jump inside a UFO, tour the historic Village, purchase a book from our “Tub of Terrors”, daily entertainment, and special guest Tony Moran, the iconic unmasked Michael Myers from the 1978 horror classic Halloween. Embrace the odd and join us for a truly unforgettable experience!

Upcoming Events




Curious at Crossroads
June 21 & 22
11am- 5pm

Crossroads Village & Huckleberry Railroad
6140 Bray Rd, 
Flint, MI

Step into the strange as the historic Crossroads Village turns into an asylum of the wildly weird at Curious at Crossroads: Oddities Fest! 

Explore over 100 unique vendors, check out one of our guest speakers, grab some lunch from a food truck or the Crossroads Café, jump inside a UFO, tour the historic Village, purchase a book from our “Tub of Terrors”, daily entertainment, and special guest Tony Moran, the iconic unmasked Michael Myers from the 1978 horror classic Halloween. Embrace the odd and join us for a truly unforgettable experience!



Mark Your Calendar: Saturday, August 2 | 2–4 PM

Get ready for a delightfully spooky afternoon! I'm brewing up a crafty little event where we'll dive into tales of the area's most haunted locations—all while creating your very own haunted keychain to take home as a keepsake (or a charm to ward off spirits 

These keychains are fun and easy to make. You'll have a wide variety of colors to choose from. You will select your ghost and all the beads you wish to use to create your haunting masterpiece. No beading experience needed, you won't even need tools. 

This event will be at The Majestic Wolf Crafts & More in Burton.

$15 fee covers the informal presentation, supplies for the keychain, and light refreshments. 

The chills are complimentary.







A Festival of Oddities
August 30 & 31 2025
Saturday 11am-6pm
Sunday 11am-4pm

Courthouse Square Museum
100 W. Lawrence Ave., Charlotte, MI

In the 1940s and 50s, there were so many Bigfoot sightings in the Charlotte area, a section of town became known as "Gorilla Swamp." Are there really sasquatch in Charlotte? And more importantly, if we throw them a party, will they come to it?

Come celebrate a very cryptidy YEAR SEVEN of The FOO with us! Presented by Scream Queen Productions and The Courthouse Square Association, admission to the grounds is free, and admission to the museum is just $5/person. Visit the Macabre Marketplace with over 100 peddlers of the peculiar, grab lunch on Food Truck Row, adopt a new familiar in our Creature Cavern, visit the Living Library to meet your favorite true crime and horror authors, climb inside a giant spaceship, tour the haunted Courthouse Square Museum and peruse exclusive exhibits, and so much more! 




Michigan's Ghostly Getaways: Travel to Michigan's Most Haunted Locations

Monday September 29, 2025
5:00pm - 7:00pm

Lapeer District Library
deAngeli Meeting Room
921 West Nepessing St
Lapeer, MI 48446

Embark on a spine-chilling journey through the Mitten State with Haunted Flint author Roxanne Rhoads as she unveils the spooky history of Michigan's most haunted locations.


Registration for this event will be open from September 15, 2025 @ 9:00am to September 29, 2025 @ 5:00pm.



Bewitching Book Tours is curating a Halloween Book Fair on October 18 in Flint. We seek Michigan authors and artists/crafters who make spooky and book-related items.

Authors of dark romances, paranormal romances, horror, fantasy, romantasy, true crime, and haunted history books (or anything else that fits into the dark and spooky category).

Vendors of book and Halloween-related arts and products- bookmarks, tote bags, art, and other macabre merchandise.

Apply here: https://forms.gle/T4fwF6CpXQV4AwQP8

We are also seeking sponsors for this event. Sponsors will be showcased on all social media platforms and at the event. 

Spooktastic Haunted Book Fair, October 18 from 12- 3pm at the Creative Cafe 3318 Corunna Rd, Flint, MI 48503

https://www.facebook.com/events/2070930936747892/




Roxanne is available for book signings, readings, library presentations, and other events. 

Please contact her for available times and rates. 

You can reach Roxanne at hauntedflintauthor@gmail.com