New Novella! Mistakes I Made During the Zombie Apocalypse

It’s here, finally it’s here. The reverse-chronologically-told tale of 17-year-old Ian Ward and his misadventures in the zombie apocalypse. Fellow writer T.J. Tranchell (and co-editor of GIVE: An Anthology of Anatomical Entries) penned a lovely introduction to the story. The ebook is available now for Kindle and I’m working on formatting the paperback.

Feedback is already coming in and it’s good!

“I’ve just started mistakes I made and I’m only a few pages in but wanted to tell you it’s blowing me away, 5* review”

Join the zOctober Facebook event and hang out with me on October 3rd for contests and other MIMDtZA-related fun.

It’s been awhile since I’ve written. My reason is at once both utterly amazing and horribly painful. Just over a year ago someone came back into my life, someone I’d been waiting for an awfully long time to reappear.

Him.

My lost love. My eternal muse. My old revenge character. The one who makes me feel in extremes. The one and only reason I believe in soul mates, and astrology, and fate, and signs, and all that other crazy shit. The collection of atoms drawn to my own set as though separated at creation.

And we fucking went for it. This second, or third time. To try to be together, because being together was what we thought about since the day we met for the first time. Because life is short and the wanting for each other was not going away. Because life without was only a poor distraction.

We collided equally in love and war. Passionate seems barely able of defining our chaos. Our time together, this time, though littered with small mistakes, I’d never call a mistake as a whole. It was all just too much emotion though, baggage we were incapable of unpacking and sorting through in a civil manner, jealousy so intense it hung heavy in the air. But there was beauty and happiness I can’t truly describe. A weightlessness of being, as though I was finally where I was supposed to be. Not in Southern California. Not in the apartment we picked together. Not on any particular afternoon at the gym or pool or beach. Not anywhere specifically, other than next to him, looking at and loving one another. Being each others’ happiness and reason to smile.

But here we are again, apart. For now, or forever, I don’t know. Sometimes it’s nearly acceptable (but not really) in an only option kind of way, due to “intense” being our standard operating mode. Mostly, it’s misery; a physical pain in my heart, endless tears, hopelessness. Like I’ve lost the part of myself that made the most sense.

He will always have a place in my life. The spot right beside me will forever be reserved for him, though others may try to fill it. Because I look at my reflection and I see him. Because my hand on his skin feels like home. Because we fit in too many ways to list, as though we were designed and built to hold one another.

Doomed or not, we are a pair. A set. Someone the other will never forget.