Saturday, December 5, 2015

The Trade Paperback Edition is Here Early!

Look what's gone and popped up on Amazon three days early!!! Nothing makes a new novel feel quite so real as holding the actual book in your hands! And the new artwork is just gorgeous in matte.

Saturday, November 28, 2015

Some Quick Rising From Ashes Updates

This is just a quick post to throw out some random RFA updates. First of all, RISING FROM ASHES is now available for pre-order on Google Play for you Android fans out there! So far as I know, that was the last missing link as far as eBook distributors go. So, if for some reason you're just now seeing this and you'd rather pre-order RFA in some other format (including signed trade paperback or hardcover directly from me), you'll find all the various purchase links here. And for those who want to get an early start, you can start reading RFA up through part of chapter 13 over on Google Books here!

In other RFA news, I've emailed out the eBook edition to those who "pre-ordered" them via the Empire of Blood Indiegogo campaign way back when. If I've missed someone, please make sure and let me know what your email address is and what your Indiegogo account name is, etc. and I'll get that sorted out asap. The trade paperback and hardcover perks from that campaign will also be going out very soon, so keep an ear out for more on that.

I've also uploaded RISING FROM ASHES into the "RSW For Life" Dropbox folder. Same deal as above, if you purchased the RSWFL folder in the past and you can't access it now for some reason, let me know your email address and the account you purchased it with and I'll get you a new link.

I think that's about it for now, but remember, folks... Tomorrow starts the ten day countdown for the eBook release!!!!! I hope you guys are excited! Because I sure as hell am!

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Book Review: In Nightmares We're Alone by Greg Sisco

Okay, so I never do book reviews pretty much ever and of the few I've done in the past, I've never put them up on here, but what the hell. I liked this one a lot and I'd like to share it with the handful of you who still haven't found the secret button to get the hell out of my chamber of freakish horrors. You're welcome. ;-)

The Book:

Each nightmare is unique. All nightmares are the same.

Three interwoven tales of terror form a collage of human suffering as three separate victims are plagued by otherworldly horrors. A young girl finds herself stalked by the hypnotic eyes of her mother’s new doll, a womanizing con artist can no longer contain the plants that sprout from his fingernails, and a bitter old woman is haunted by the cryptic messages on her dead father’s typewriter.

Rattling the chains of their separate Hells, these desperate lost souls lash out against the unknown, inadvertently plunging one another deeper into their respective nightmares.

My Review:

Greg Sisco pulls off an amazing feat with this would-be novel, would-be collection. He takes three powerful horror novellas each from a different first person point of view character and tells one longer interweaving story. At times the story seems chronological until you run into situations from the other tales and realize that, while overall the story isn't just one happenstance from three angles, it's actually three stories that segue into each other like a hand of three Aces waiting to be played.

There are a few scenes where the author shows us the same situation from one of the previous novellas in the collection from another character's point of view and I must admit, typically, I loathe when authors do this, because all too often it's only self-serving and a complete drag on the story. But here, Sisco does it briefly enough and with such powerful character revelation as to execute each of these scenes practically flawless.

Sisco's prose is tightly weaved, engrossing, twisted as hell, at times serious and penetrating, at others darkly hilarious, and even sometimes, he manages to pull off both in an extremely moving and entertaining display of skill. I lost count of how many amazing lines he was able to slip into this book. Some sending me into fits of laughter while others grabbing hold of that existential cord that pulls together wonder and terror.

Fans of one-protagonist/one-viewpoint novels might have a hard time with the three separate viewpoints that make up this story, but I found it to be a fascinating balanced whole regardless. If you're to look at this book as a collection of stories, it has the further treat of each tale standing on its own. However, if you read these in order as I did (or maybe even out of order as well?), you'll likely find yourself unable to put the book down until you've read all three and know the complete story.

My only complaint would be that toward the end of the last story there was a moment when the prose became a tad bit too heavy with character internalization, but the moment is so brief it doesn't warrant me taking off any stars.

I own several other books by Mr. Sisco and have yet to read them. That will be changing soon for sure. It would appear to me after reading In Nightmares We're Alone that Greg Sisco is one of the best kept secrets in modern horror and dark humor. I think it's time we let the proverbial cat out of the bag!

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

The Final Cover for RFA is here!

Isn't it so pretty??? Luke Spooner of Carrion House did this one and he'll also be doing new covers for Books I and II as well.

When I first started writing SHINING IN CRIMSON, in about 2008 or 2009, I pictured everything I was writing with a sort of graphic novel/comic book aesthetic, so when I learned that my previous artist would not be able to do RISING FROM ASHES in time for the book's release, I immediately wondered what it would be like to go with that kind of vibe with all new covers.

It just so happens, I had just worked with Luke on the cover and interior artwork for a brand new book from Nightscape Press by K.M. Tonso called DARKLING INCIDENCE: OBSCURE REFLECTIONS.which by coincidence actually hit Amazon today, so if you're looking for a really well-written collection of weird/dark fiction check it out. It's of course, edited by yours truly, and we wouldn't be publishing it if we didn't think it was absolutely amazing.
Here's the description for the curious:

Herein are contained reflections of what, as Saint Paul says, we see in a glass darkly. And as this angle of incidence is so shadowed, so must be the reflections it derives. 

These sixteen stories provide obscure reflections of worlds much like ours yet different. Worlds that grapple with increasingly confused and distorted realities. 

Each reflection so vivid as to become an open doorway where unwary readers might just find themselves stumbling over the threshold... never to return.

And while you're at it, you should also really check out Amelia Mangan's debut novel RELEASE also edited by this guy (thumbs and all) and published by Nightscape Press last month. Some of you may remember Amelia's gorgeous dark morsel of a story The Souls of Stars from the Vampire/Sci-fi anthology I edited back in 2013 called BLOOD TYPE: AN ANTHOLOTY OF VAMPIRE SF ON THE CUTTING EDGE.

Both of these books are a fantastic treat for anybody who loves dark, gothic, or weird fiction. Amelia's novel leans more toward a gothic psychological sort of anti-romance/thriller. This gorgeous cover art was designed by the ever phenomenal Boden Steiner who did the covers for both THREE MILES PAST and STERLING CITY by Stephen Graham Jones and DAYS OF RAIN by Ray Wallace for Nightscape Press previously. Here's some more about RELEASE:

At the age of sixteen, Stanley Fitzgerald murdered his mother. He hasn't uttered a word since. Institutionalized for the last twelve years, he spends his days numb and unresponsive, shut away in a dismal, silent world of his own. 

Until he meets Marina. 

Large bright feline eyes. Long chestnut hair. Rough edges of bitten fingernails. Hands that once murdered an entire family. Marina talks to Stanley. And before long, Stanley talks back. 

As their friendship grows, Marina's influence draws Stanley out of his shell. The doctors, pleased with Stanley's progress, decide it's time for his release. 

Returning to the isolated Midwestern farmhouse where he grew up, Stanley is determined to start putting the pieces of his broken life back together. He never believes he will see Marina again. Not as long as he lives. 

Until, one black and rainy night, Marina appears on Stanley's doorstep. 

"They let me out," she tells him. 

Stanley wants so badly to believe her. 

Stanley has no choice but to let her in... 

RELEASE is a Gothic fairy tale of love, death, guilt, and madness. 

And it will never let you go. 

Advance Praise for RELEASE: 

"Reading Amelia Mangan’s Release is like being trapped in a slowly sinking ship while icy water rises all around you. It’s creepy, claustrophobic, and disturbingly vivid; I couldn’t put it down." 
—Kelly Braffet, author of Save Yourself and Josie and Jack 

"Beautifully written and utterly absorbing, Release is the story of a young man trapped in an insular world of memories and madness. Returning to the rat-infested farmhouse where he grew up, Stanley Fitzgerald settles into a routine. He cooks, he cleans, he listens to the radio. One day fades into the next, but there is a certain comfort in the mundane. A certain hopefulness in the simplicity of his new existence. Then a beguiling young woman shows up at his door and Stanley soon realizes that for a man such as he, there can be only one release. 

"Amelia Mangan’s writing is so rich and evocative, the reader will be tempted to race through the pages, but don’t. Release is to be savored, preferably on a moonlit night with a chill in the air." 
—Amanda Stevens, author of The Graveyard Queen series 

"Haunting and hard to shake off. Release wraps its chilled fingers around you and doesn't let go." 
—Kathy Charles, author of John Belushi Is Dead 

"Release is the novel you'd get if you put Stephen King and Angela Carter in a room together and got them good and mean drunk. Scary, thrilling, gimlet-eyed, and so sharp you could cut yourself on it, this is a triumph of horror novels, and heralds an exciting new talent in Amelia Mangan." 
—Jessica Alcott, author of Even When You Lie To Me

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Bad News, Short Delays, and What Not...

It is with much frustration and stress that I must inform everyone that the release date for RISING FROM ASHES has been moved up to December 8th, 2015. I am very sorry for the delay. I'll have more updates soon.

Friday, October 2, 2015

Can You Say Preorder??? Here Let Me Say It With You... RISING FROM ASHES!

The date is finally set! On Tuesday, November 24th December 8th, 2015, RISING FROM ASHES: EMPIRE OF BLOOD BOOK THREE will hit all the major e-stores! Pre-order is now available for trade paperback and hardcover editions from the Robert S. Wilson Big Cartel store and for eBook editions at all the major eBook chains. Click the icon of your preferred retailer below! I'm so excited to finally share the final Empire of Blood novel with you folks. It's been a long four years since SHINING IN CRIMSON hit physical and electronic bookshelves alike and one hell of a crazy ride! In celebration, you can get RFA for a special eBook pre-order price of only $2.99! Here's the deets:

Now with nothing left to lose, Hank Evans has transformed from a hollow shell to a military leader of the Foederati, hardened to the core with the cold unmerciful steel of revenge. He rightfully blames the Emperor for the death of his son and will stop at nothing to destroy the evil man and his twisted religious empire. 

Armed with the knowledge that he alone is the biggest threat to the monster who rules the American Empire, Hank needs only to learn the secret that will allow him to kill this terrible creature who ripped apart so many lives. 

But as the vampire Queen's belly grows larger and the time for her to give birth grows near, new visions of the future distract Hank from his plans of vengeance with glimpses of a boy hidden in shadows... A boy who looks so very much like Toby. 

And in the end, a new litter of vampires is born and they will change everything.

Saturday, September 26, 2015

Quick Rising From Ashes Update!

I just wanted to throw up a quick news flash that RISING FROM ASHES: EMPIRE OF BLOOD BOOK THREE is now available for Nook pre-order on Barnes & Noble for the special pre-order price of only $2.99! That is all for now, if you're looking for news about the Kindle pre-order you can find that here! I'm getting really pumped about finally dropping the last book in the trilogy! Can't wait to share this book with you guys! Until next time...

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Couch To 5K Plan: Week 3-ish... Or Is it Week 4 Now? Who Fucking Knows...

I've been very liberally following this plan for a number of weeks now. It's hard to keep track as I've just been walking eight out of ten days regardless and jogging every other day without any two day breaks like the plan calls for. The first week, I mostly followed the schedule, which I shared in my last Cto5K post, however, I threw in a few extra two to three minute jogs here and there as I mentioned in said post. I thought that was just the greatest thing because, while it exhausted me, it didn't make me feel like I was going to die or anything. HA!

The second week, the first day I did the initial walking, then three minutes of jogging, then walked a good ten minutes more then jogged for four and that's where I really started to feel something. That four minutes wasn't just, "Yay, this is easy, I can do this! Woo hoo!" and mystery confetti fell from the sky as a crowd of anonymous cheery folks in jogging suits greeted me with applause...

No... it was more like, "Holy fuck, I have to stop, I can't breathe, I need to stop, I can't breathe--MY LEGS! MY FUCKING LEGS! HOLY SHIT, MY LEGS!" The last minute seemed to stretch on for the rest of my life. Every little bit would pass and my lungs would feel like they were going to burst or my leg would give an extra painful twitch and I'd have to tell myself, "Don't stop, mother fucker... don't do it. Just keep going, asshole." And as miserably cliche as it may sound, I finally got a glimpse of what it means to have to dig deep within yourself and instead of pulling out a rabbit or perhaps an old shoe, you have to pull out determination and really push when you feel like you can't push any goddamn more.

What it really comes down to is that it's easy for me to do four or five two-to-three minute jogs, but what really matters most in this race is endurance and when you do one or two longer jogs, that's when your lungs (or at least my motherfucking lungs for goddamn sure!) really start to feel it (FUCK YOU VERY MUCH, PHILIP MORRIS!).

For some of you, that may sound pathetic, but you know what? That's where I'm at. That's what I've gotten myself into after years of sitting at a desk and not seriously consistently putting any care into my body... And of course twenty plus years of smoking probably didn't help either. To be even more fair, I haven't done this much jogging since I was in my early teens. I was smoking by the time I was 13 years old for fuck-sake and by the time I did my Senior finals for gym class, I was dead last in the class when we had to run.

Dead. Fucking. Last!

And while I did get plenty of exercise in my years of singing live on stage, by the time I was 23 or so, that was mostly behind me, save for the few shows I did with Kobayashi in 2008-ish.

Anyway... I digress... On the next day of Jog Til You Drop, I planned to do three minutes and then four like I had before and that three minutes nearly waylaid my lungs, so I had to walk the rest after that. And then the next day I was supposed to jog, I let myself get distracted with other stuff and didn't go. Mind you, as I've said... most days I had been walking on my off days, the days the program says to rest. I don't know if my body is in bad shape to the point that I should have been doing more rest in between or not. Or if that's even how this shit really works... However, this week, I'm resting between days instead.

The first day, I did my walking, then four minutes jogging, and then a short couple-minute jog. Today, day two of this week--which if I'm counting right puts me at week three after all--I walked, did a two minute jog, walked some more, then moved up to a five minute jog. So, while I'm three weeks in and behind on the overall numbers, I at least feel like I'm getting more on track.

So... that's where I'm at with the Couch to5K plan for now...

I suppose while I'm on here, I should mention that I also deactivated my Facebook account today. On one end, I've been spending entirely too much time on Facebook lately and that's completely fucked my productivity in a number of areas. For two, it's a source of a lot of stress that I can certainly do without for at least a little while, if not for the long term.

For three, I'm seeing maybe 50% of the posts I'd like to be seeing, if not less than that. Especially if you count in pages for things like bands, authors, publishers, and what not. In place of real (virtually real?) human interaction, Facebook has slowly evolved into a network that makes you feel like it's normal to spend all of your goddamn time reading and sharing memes that span the gamut from braindead bigoted attacks to  heartfelt emotional pick-me-up quotes, arguing about politics, or arguing about just about any other fucking thing that could possibly and even quite improbably end up being argued about.

Here's a reminder, for those of you who might have forgotten:


So, anyway... all around, it all adds up to one big, middle finger poking me in the face every time I get on there.

That said, I'm still on Google +, Tsu, and Twitter. So, if you want to keep up with more of my day-to-day bullshit, along with posting more on my blog, I'll still be on those social networks until they too become a problem... (which I don't foresee happening anytime least... I hope). For now, however, I must rest... eat... and shower! Until next time... completely random Bob time... completely random Bob channel... err, something...

Thursday, September 17, 2015

Doth Me Smell the Scents of Autumn? And Perhaps a Sale, Too? Aye!

The weather is cooling off some and the days are dropping away until my favorite time of the year! Even if Halloween wasn't smack in the middle of the best goddamn season on Earth, I would probably still love absolutely everything about Fall. Bonfires, the grim look of bare trees, that crisp smell in the air, the dry blanket of fallen leaves covering the ground, the earthen aromas of harvest crops and burning wood, that sense of cozy ethereal ambiguity that seems to somehow tow the line between the natural and the impossibly supernatural...

Oh yeah...


I'm still here. Promise. Just got carried away for a moment there.

And of course... there's the fact that Halloween is in the Fall that greedily squirts out the proverbial icing on the (pumpkin-flavored) cake! Ah... Halloween. I loved it before I'd even read my first horror story. But post-horror fiction love? It's like, for one month a year, this big huge rocky globe kicks back (err... tilts?) and says, "Ah... It's that time again. Time to motherfucking ROCK!"

And so in celebration of this beautiful and fine goddamn season, I've dropped the prices on all of my eBooks (that aren't already free) down to a measly 99 cents EVERYWHERE! Kindle? 99 cents or less. Nook? 99 cents or less. Kobo? 99 mother-loving, kickass cents or less! iBooks/Apple/Whatever-the-Fuck-You-Call it? Hell yeah, man! 99 cents or less! Google Play? Oh fuck yeah! 99 hard-earned, Abraham Lincoln-engraved, shiny, imaginary-because-we're-talking-eBooks-here cents or less! And yeah, Smashwords and all those other places where supposedly people also buy eBooks too. So, if there's an RSW title you've had your eye on... now's the time. And if you've got them all and you enjoy them well (or at least a little bit), you have my hearty thanks(!) and if by chance you'd be so kind as to share the good news with your friends, family, dogs, cats, dolphins, or any other aquatic, anthropomorphic, or geometric pets you may have, that would be the cherry on top of my already-lathered-with-icing pumpkin-flavored MEGACAKE!

And for those who are asking themselves:

"Why did I click on this link?"

Or "Who the hell is Robert S. Wilson, anyway?"

Or "What the fuck kind of shameless self-promotion bullshit is this?"

Or "Holy shit, man, calm down, it's still hot as motherfucking Mount Doom out there!"

I would just like to take this moment to thank you for reading my humble post here and for not sending me hate letters threatening me to go away and hide in my Squash-Covered Cave of Uber Autumn-Love in the woods "OR ELSE!"...

So, without further ado, I bid thee farewell and a Happy HOLY SHIT IS IT FALL YET ALREADY?!?!?

Friday, September 11, 2015

Couch to 5k Plan: Take Two!

So... for those of you in shape, this might be an eye roll moment, but fuck all if I care. I've been doing a loose interpretation of the Couch to 5K deal for about a week now (this is my second run at it, actually. I first tried it about two years ago and utterly crashed and burned...) and doing the little bit, here, little bit there, yay rah, whatever. But last night, me and the fam stopped at the park for a walk and I planned to do like the plan suggests: walking somewhere around five or so minutes and then jogging two or three and then switching back to walking etc.

Anyhow, we start walking and at first, I didn't even feel like dragging one foot in front of the other. But after a while, once my legs were in a rhythm, not so bad. So I did my jogging. Didn't really time it but chose a landmark to jog to and stuck with it, probably about a couple minutes, maybe more. Then we walked some more... Then I jogged another minute or so. Then some more walking. Rinse, repeat, etc.

Probably sounds like the dumbest fucking thing evar, but a week ago... I couldn't have fucking done that to save my life. I probably jogged a good five or six times, including the last little bit back to the car--long after my legs felt like jello. For me... now a days... that's phenomenal. And I'm keeping that shit up, sticking with the gradual (but maybe not quite as gradual as the program suggests) rise in workout length. I guess it's just been a while since I had any hope that this old overweight body could ever have a chance again to be anything else... Which doesn't suck. Doesn't suck at all.

My advice, if you're in a position like me and should decide to try this... don't let yourself get discouraged if the first day feels really hard. And don't forget to stretch before each exercise, especially if your muscles are as out of wack as mine are from sitting at a desk way too much of the time.

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Open for Editing Clients!

It's that time again, ladies and gentlemen. I have some openings for editing clients available. I am a Bram Stoker Award-nominated editor who has worked with brand new writers all the way up to international bestselling and award-winning authors. So far three of the novels I have edited for Nightscape Press have been nominated for the Bram Stoker Award, two of which have gone on to win the award, while another novella took home a This Is Horror award.

I now charge on a sliding scale based on the difficulty of work needed from as little as $5.00 per thousand words on up to $15.00 per thousand words. At those rates, a full length 80,000 word novel could cost you as little as $400. And I do a free sample edit of up to five pages depending on the length of the project.

What that means is, while going over your sample, I apply my edits and notes in track changes and give an overall critique just as I do with a complete manuscript I've been commissioned to work on. If the sample shows that you have a strong understanding of prose and the mechanics of storytelling, my fee will tend toward the lower end of the scale because it will require less work. If the sample shows signs that you need more than that, I provide more than that, including more detailed notes, a more thorough critique, and a separate document of extensive notes specifically on your trouble areas. Because of which, I do, unfortunately, have to charge those clients toward the mid to higher level of my scale.

Most of the authors I've worked with have been in the mid to lower scale, but there's nothing to be ashamed of if your technique needs more work. The hardest thing to learn as a writer is how to swallow your pride and start allowing your stories to be truly and critically taken apart. I do that and I also work hard to walk the author through the process of putting their stories back together in the best shape possible, providing a personally tailored and extensive learning process along the way.

If you're interested in working with me, send me an email at and we'll make arrangements for me to get started on your free sample edit right away.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Demons Circling: A Scene from RISING FROM ASHES

I know I haven't been the most clear about the release for Rising From Ashes: Empire of Blood Book Three... So first I'd like to clear things up a bit. The book will finally be fully released everywhere in eBook, trade paperback, and hardcover on November 24th.

That established... Going over some scenes from Rising From Ashes this morning, I came upon this one and was compelled to share it with you all. Even if you haven't read either Shining in Crimson or Fading in Darkness, this scene is completely spoiler free. This is the first scene of Chapter 16 which is titled Demons Circling:

***Editorial note: this is still in unfinished draft form, so there are some typos etc.*** 
The thick musty stench of death floated just below Alexandria's nostrils as she sat there on her knees in the back yard of the home she'd grown up in. Dry dirt caked her arms up to her elbows and loose strands of hair hung down in tandem from a large tangled bun at the top of her head. Her eyes were red from having cried for two days straight. But now they were nearly as dry as the dirt on her arms. Before her, beneath piles of sticks and branches, lay her father's body in the shallow grave she had dug out with her own bare hands.
Somewhere in the abyss of the house, a shovel hid and eluded her, but as time had ticked away, it soon became obvious she wasn't in any state of mind to be able to find it and Dad's body wasn't going to get up and take care of itself. Just the thought of that had torn through her like a jack hammer, but nothing could change that now. There was no one on her side and nowhere she could run. No adult to take care of the hard things that adults had always taken care of in her life. Now she was the adult and the world had landed on her back in the blink of an eye and the blast of a rifle.
The walls she had glued together in her own emotional well were threatening to crack again and she snapped out of the long trance she had fallen into. She would have to cover him over now. Her hands slid at her sides in fresh dirt, accumulating the stuff in her forearms, wishing it was fire she could sweep up into balls and send hurling toward the soldiers who were now standing at the corner of the street watching her and whispering to each other. Her hands gripped deep into the dirt and her fingernails found her palm and started to pierce into the flesh slowly, biting and tearing and focusing her hatred. She gritted her teeth with the pain and the imaginary black poison in her chest waiting to spew out and destroy them.
As the dirt fell over his pale decaying face--a face she couldn't help remember smiling and crying and laughing and yelling and screaming and now it just stared at nothing without emotion or recognition or anything that would give it even the slightest resemblance of being alive--the well cracked open and her tears flooded down again mixing with the dry dirt on her face and becoming an odd sort of mud. Her arms moved of their own accord then, flinging dirt down over that face and working restlessly to cover it and make it go away. And yet she didn't want her last time seeing his face to go away so quickly and so horribly but the choice was no longer hers as her arms shoved forward large piles of dirt and within a few minutes she lay there nearly out of breath over the grave now fully covered. And all she wanted to do was lie there with him forever and never get up.
Rudy's soft and terrified voice crept up over the chirping of insects and the faraway droning of traffic. "Alex?"
The need to sob caught in her throat then and with a great and forced effort she swallowed it, its fire burning her esophogus all the way down. She sat up, pretending the fire enfulfing her stomach wasn't there and in a comforting and steady voice she replied, "Yeah, Rudy, what is it? You okay, buddy?"
Her little brother stood, dirty face and bare feet sticking out of the cracked back porch screen door. "Jeremy said it was Daddy's fault the Emper sojers killed him--that he's gon' go to hell and burn because he didn't believe in the Emper and..." His face screwed up with tears and wailing and the burning in Alexandria's heart stoked with a boiling anguish and hatred.
"Come on, come here, Rudy." Rudy ran out to her, the porch door slamming behind him. When he landed sobbing into Alexandria's arms she hugged him tightly and caressed the top of his head cooing and whispering to him. "Jeremy doesn't know any better, Rudy. He's wrong. The Emperor's not any god that Daddy should have believed in. And it wasn't Daddy's fault those bad men shot him, it's the Emperor's. And if there's a hell, you know just as well as I do, our Daddy doesn't belong there."
When Rudy finally calmed down, she brought him inside the house and had a long talk with Jeremy and when they were done, the three of them came outside and Alexandria took the metal can in her hands, lifted it awkwardly over the bare patch of dirt that covered her father's lifeless body, and began to splash the dry ground with wet oily gasoline. When the bulge of dirt was covered in channels of flowing yellowish red liquid, she set the can aside and started throwing the leaves and grass she had collected over the spot and the two boys began to do the same and within a few minutes it was covered entirely. She took out the small book of matches she had found in a kitchen drawer and pulled one out. Then she kissed her palm and blew the kiss down at the makeshift grave as new tears ran streaming down both sides of her face. And before she had a chance to stop herself she'd lit the match and dropped it.
The whole thing went up in a woosh and a bright flash lighting the dying dusk evening with glowing waves of yellow and orange. Flames danced in Alexandria's moist eyes as she watched the soldiers through the tongues of fire reaching up at random for the sky in crackling cries of spitting spark and thick burning heat. And in the rising smoke of the crude makeshift pyre, Alexandria and her brothers said goodbye to Jamie Ridgemont, the best father they could have ever asked for.

I hope you enjoyed this scene. Keep an eye out for more updates and sneak peeks from Rising from Ashes!

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Updates on My Patreon

A lot's happened since my last update. For those of you who don't already know, I'm now giving away regular free exclusive stories on my Patreon page.

From the month of August on I'll be publishing two to four free stories in mobi (Kindle), epub (Nook, Kobo, iPad), and pdf (Android, PC) editions. The latest one just came out and it's a doozy! It's a creepy little weird fiction/gothic horror tale called A Light that Could Only Shine On the Dead and I'm excited to share it with all of you!

Also available free to download from my Patreon page are The Northern Continent (a dark far future sci-fi romance tale), Weekend Warrior: An Apocalyptic Tale of Alien Invasion (a sci-fi/horror novelette), and Koadie's Monster: A Ray Garret/Lifeline Novelette (which is a prequel of my cyberpunk/crime Ray Garret/Lifeline novellas Exit Reality and SoulServe). I will also be releasing some exclusive articles on writing and editing over there very soon.

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

THE QUIET: A Novella Audiobook is here!

The Audiobook edition of my 2011 debut novella is finally here! 

James Benton might be the last man on earth. Racing to get to work, he finds random abandoned cars, smoldering pile-ups, and something even stranger. Everywhere he goes there's no grass, no people, not even a bird in the sky. Alone in a barren world, James travels west in search of someone, anyone who might have survived The Quiet.

Written by Robert S. Wilson

Narrated by R E Lamoureux

Available from the following online retailers:

Sunday, July 5, 2015

New Free Stories!

So while looking over my recent blog posts tonight it occurred to me that I forgot to post a very important update. Some of you already know I've been releasing Patreon exclusive stories in ebook format on my Patreon page.

Well, I've recently changed my entire setup there. Since June 14th all of my Patreon exclusive stories (all two novelettes for now) have been available completely for free. Each story is available for download in mobi (Kindle), epub (Nook, Kobo, iPad, etc.), and pdf (PC, Android).

I also will be putting up stories there much more regularly. The first exclusive story I put up was Koadie's Monster: A Ray Garrett/Lifeline Novelette which is a prequel story to my 2013 cyberpunk/crime novella Exit Reality as well as my 2014 cyberpunk/crime novella SoulServe.

My second Patreon exclusive story is another novelette titled Weekend Warrior. Weekend Warrior is a post-apocalyptic sci-fi tale about a National Guardsman trying to survive after a wasp-like alien species has invaded and nearly completely transformed our world as we know it.

I intend to start releasing around two to four exclusive stories on my Patreon a month, each of which will also be freely available to download in the above-mentioned eBook formats. If anyone would prefer I added other formats, please feel free to comment on this post or over on my Patreon page and I will make that happen. I will have some big surprises coming up over there as well along with some big Empire of Blood news, so keep an eye on the page over there.

In the meantime, download these two eBooks enjoy them, keep an eye out for new free exclusive stories, and please consider becoming a patron or spreading the word to others who may enjoy my fiction. Even the one dollar a month pledge would be incredibly appreciated. The more patrons I get, the sooner I can finish and put out more short stories, novelettes, novellas, and novels.

That said, share and enjoy!

Sunday, June 21, 2015

My Father

So, I've never talked about this publicly before... I've always kept it to myself. Only my family and closest friends know even a shred of what I'm about to talk about. But last night brought the situation to a head for me in a major way and I think I need to get it out of my system.

I haven't had anything to do with my father for about 15 years now. And even then, aside from living with him for a short stint when I had nowhere else to go (maybe a couple months, maybe less, it's all a blur now), before that period of about six months of him being in my life again, I hadn't had anything to do with him for seven years before that; since around the time he was caught, arrested, and convicted of child molesting for the second time (no he did not molest me, and no I'm not going to specify who he did molest).

Last night, I was up very late watching some comedy shows when I had a thought to look up my father. You see a few years ago, due to some weird legal loophole in Indiana laws, he and many other child molesters were taken off of the sex offender list. (Isn't it such a great feeling to know that's even possible?) I often used his listing to keep up with where he was so I would know how best to avoid him. Upon searching for him, I found a listing with his exact name in an obituary. And given how many years it's been since I had anything to do with him, I thought the age was right and I honestly have no memory of what his birthday is, as, before now, I've had no reason to keep that information in mind.

The first time he was convicted, I was in Kindergarten. Shortly after that, my parents divorced. And even though, he was still given visitation of me. I'd like to hope laws have changed since those days. Still, my father never molested me. He didn't have a thing for little boys, he had a thing for little girls. What he did do to me was quite different. Just some good old-fashioned neglect with a side of verbal and physical abuse.

I still have memories etched in my mind of living in a dinky blue trailer right off of highway 40 just west of 231 and, though my mother worked her ass off to support us kids, we still couldn't afford to have a phone, so when he wouldn't show up to pick me up for the weekend, Mom would be forced to drive me to a nearby gas station to call him to find out why.

Most of those times he didn't answer.

Others he gave lame excuses at best.

Then he'd come back around like nothing happened and I'd get a few consecutive visits in a row before the next time he dropped off the face of the Earth.

Then there was his temper... Unlike many parents who have temper problems, he only beat marks into me a couple of times. I was lucky in that regard. I can't help but wonder, had he more often picked me up for visits, would that have been worse? I'll never forget the time he and my step mother were screwing in the other room, and, having watched some shitty vampire movie, my five or six-year-old mind started playing tricks on me in the dark and I began to yell out for help.

He burst into the room half-naked and seething, belt in hand, and I learned that night what I should have truly been afraid of...

And still, being a little dumb kid... I loved my father. I wanted nothing more than his approval. I didn't yet know that people could or would even do the horrible things that he had done and would go on to do again. For a long time, I thought the way he treated me was my fault. My little child brain couldn't comprehend that my funny, charming, sweet father could have possibly been the one to blame.

When he didn't show up to pick me up and I stood at the payphone at that goddamn gas station listening to the phone ring over and over, tears running down my face, I thought it had to be me.

When he would lose his temper and scream at me, call my mother a stupid bitch, or beat on me over and over and leave belt or hand marks on my body, I thought it could only be me.

Then I grew up... a lot faster than most of my peers in some regards. And as a young teen, my dad actually started coming to get me more regularly. But by then I knew. I knew what he'd done, and I at least thought I understood that the way he had treated me wasn't my fault. So, I would go to his house, hang out with my friends who lived in his neighborhood, hit him up for money every chance I could get, and spend as much of the weekend away from him as I could get away with.

It was my little way of getting back at him, I guess. Of dealing with what I knew and what I hated about him. And, even though I didn't think I did at the time... I still loved my father.

From my earliest memories of him, in between his terrible temper and the long periods of neglect, my father often seemed warm, funny, charming, and caring. In those times, I thought I had what I wanted much more than a father. I thought I had a dad. In fact, I know now that much of my playful sense of humor is very much like his was. And every time I joke around and kid with my own son, that realization reoccurs in me. Because my son also has a lot of that same sense of humor. It's like a distorted and reversed mirror. Where the original was so covered with black squirming maggots crawling over each other to eat away the tiny sections still able to reflect light, this new one shines mostly clear and clean with only the occasional streak or blemish.

But I know now why and how my father was so charming. He was a calculated and cunning charismatic sociopath. He would do whatever he had to do to make you like him, to make you want to make him happy. To make you do whatever he wanted. And when that didn't work out, when you failed to make him happy, he would lose his temper and show the true monster that lurked behind his sweet wholesome mask. But more often than not, he would only show that side to his wives and his children and the targets of his atrocious road rage.

That... in a nutshell, was my father.

For years now, I've dreaded how I would feel when I found out the old man had kicked the bucket. Especially ever since I learned one of the hardest truths of this whole situation. It was probably late 2000/early 2001 and Jen and I were driving down Highway 37 on the south side of Indy. She was pregnant with Jacob at the time. And with the realization that I had a son on the way, everything I had lived through with my father was very much on my mind.

And it was then that it hit me. For years, I had been telling myself that I hated my father. For years, I had focused my feelings and concerns on his other victims. For years I had shrugged off how his behavior, both toward myself and toward the little girls that he had so terribly hurt, had affected me. For years I had decided that I wasn't important in the equation, that my feelings didn't matter. And I realized for the first time in my life that night that they did. They mattered.

And, as long as I kept them locked inside myself, they would continue to tear me apart.

I had to pull off to the side of the road that night, I was balling so bad... as I poured out every thought and feeling that was going through me to Jen.

Late last night, early this morning, I sat alone at my computer, Jen had already gone to bed, and the same feeling went through me as did that night. The same realization. One that still tears at me and conflicts me and burns through every vein in my body--probably the hardest thing I've ever come to terms with in my life--though deranged and tortured and tragic as it may feel...

I still love my father.

I'm still that little boy hoping for the approval of a man who could never give it. A man who could never know approval. Only deceit, fury, and treachery. A man who could never truly love me back. And I'm not closed to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I'm wrong and he's changed everything that was ever terrible about himself and he's become the person he should have always been.


But now, it's too late.

And not because he's dead, because, after waking today, I did some digging on the internet until I found out for sure.

The obituary wasn't his. He's very likely still alive.

And even though, in some fucked up, bitter, terrible way, the love I have for my father which is equally made of burning swollen hatred still exists; unlike some sappy bullshit talk show, I know that no matter what, no matter how much I may want to for a variety of mixed up reasons. I can never, ever meet him eye to eye again. I can never speak so much as a word to that man again. And I would rather die than let him anywhere even remotely near my children.

I would rather take his life than let him near mine.

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Like a Desolate Landscape Stretching Out Before You...

Some of you might recall that I also make music under the moniker of Escape From Saturn. Some of you may even give half of a shit. For those of you who haven't already clicked that shiny X at the corner of the page (or tab), you're truly fucked now! Because now I have your attention and I'm going to exploit it...

You see, I've been working on new music and now I'm going to make you listen to it... Yes, you! No... wait, come back! Hey, why are you running away???

Well... shit... just in case you come back...

Monday, March 9, 2015

Change of Pace

So, this is probably going to be some disappointing news for the handful of you who actually care, but RISING FROM ASHES: EMPIRE OF BLOOD BOOK THREE will not be ready in time for the April release I previously announced. At this point I'm not mentioning any definitive date so I don't just end up putting my foot in my mouth again. My apologies for those who might have had their hopes up, but Empire of Blood is just not where my creative energy is taking me right now. I'll be sure and update this blog when there's something concrete to update with. For now, thank you for your incredible patience and for following my work.

Friday, January 16, 2015

RISING FROM ASHES Chapter 1 and A Brand New Exclusive Story!

So for those who might have missed it the first chapter of RISING FROM ASHES: EMPIRE OF BLOOD BOOK THREE went up on Patreon, Wattpad, and (in the form of a video reading on) Youtube! (The audio is also free to download over at Patreon and you can also find the video down below in this post.) I'm gonna be doing at least one chapter a week up until and on past the official full eBook/paperback release which will be...

Drum roll, please! ......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................April 28th, 2015!

Yeah, I know you were hoping for sooner. However, I really want to do something different with this release. Hence the video and audio readings. I'm hoping people will interact with me on this. I'd really like us to experience this last EoB novel together in a fun and exciting kind of way. Kindle folks can set it up via the instructions on my Patreon page to get chapters directly on their devices and I'd love it if you all would check out my videos and read along. Some of you may be old enough to remember those old children's books that came with the record that you'd put in and listen to someone read the book to you  as you read along with them. That's almost exactly what I'm going for only directly from author to reader. From me to you. Here's the video of chapter one:

I've also worked on improving the perks and things for my Patreon page, giving the $5 a month package access to all of my published titles, new releases early (Including RISING FROM ASHES!), and rare and unreleased stories.

And once a month, I'll be releasing a brand new story completely exclusive to Patreon. In fact I just uploaded January's story. It's a 10,000 word novelette called Koadie's Monster and it's a stand alone story from my Ray Garret/Lifeline cyberpunk/crime series, in fact for those of you who've read Exit Reality, you might recognize that name as a fairly older Koadie Lawson features prominently in that 2013 novella. In a sense this is sort of his origin story. Like all of my other Lifeline stories, you don't need to have read any of the others to know what's going on. But for chronological sake, this story would be set before any of the other Lifeline stories I've put out. Here's the blurb I wrote for it:

Young Koadie Lawson is tired of Rudy bullying him on the bus. Every day the older boy picks on him, beats on him, and sometimes even spits on him. But today Koadie has a plan. He's going to finally get his revenge.

Using a new Lifeline program called LifeCraft, he creates the perfect interactive perceptual trap for Rudy in the form of a fake porn file. But when Rudy takes the bait, Koadie gets more revenge than he bargained for.

Now it's up to Ray Garret to go in and save Rudy from his own perceptual hell and bring the poor kid back to the real world before there's nothing left to save.

But first... he has to make it past Koadie's Monster...

Not enough? How about a sample?


Koadie's Monster


Robert S. Wilson

Koadie had been thinking about Rudy Donavan when he started building the monster. Rudy and every other one of those bastards he had to walk through to get to the back of the bus every morning. But mostly Rudy. At least in Lifeshare Koadie could make up his own world, make up his own rules. Virtual or not, they were still better than that shithole of a real world out there.
Anyone looking from the outside would have seen a young boy with dark skin and blue eyes sitting at a computer, a small black plastic device sticking out of his ear. But these days only the dead and the elderly didn’t know what a Lifeline was. From Koadie’s perspective, he floated in a virtual tunnel, facing his latest creation, surrounded by a dull gray graphical interface with enough buttons and dials to keep a kid busy for centuries. He searched through the list of mods from a black side panel hanging in the air. He needed something especially gruesome to add to his monster—which currently consisted of a large man-shaped shadow and two red eyes.
Wooden items, ceramic items, common items, fabrics, liquids, smooth items, sharp items—that’s it. He tapped on the square marked SHARP ITEMS and it exploded into a huge sliding panel of icons, each one a different kind of sharp object. Knives, swords, daggers, eating utensils, rough broken pieces of wood, jagged rocks, rusty nails—perfect! Koadie grabbed the rusty nails and pulled them down onto the blank portion of the monster’s face, below the red glowing irises. He angled two nails downward so they resembled long sharp fangs. A chill rolled up his spine as he beheld his completed masterpiece.
He’d spent the last five weeks designing the setting for his revenge and now he finally had the means of delivering it. Koadie willed the list of settings to appear and it did so just as quickly as his brain had called for it. By now, he had accumulated quite a number of self-made settings for various uses from playing to studying, to just wanting a place to be left alone. Tucked in neatly with his usual favorite play places, the .lif file titled FREAK_RUDY_OUT waited to be chosen. Koadie renamed it to HOT_FUCKING_BLONDE.lif then tapped the icon and the world around him transformed random pixel by random pixel into a small unkempt yard in front of a modest white house dimly lit by a blurry silver sickle in a foggy sky. The chipping paint was faintly visible in the hazy light. Every detail of it was as real as any recording Koadie had ever seen in the Lifeline right down to the moisture reflecting off each individual blade of grass. He looked up. The shadow of an exaggerated feminine silhouette shaded in from the yellow-lit window just below the pinnacle of the house. Koadie grinned.
He willed the Setting Variables table to appear before him and started flipping through the different rooms within the house. When he came to the bedroom at the bottom of the list, he opened the Insert menu and tapped the New Item button. Then found his monster in the list, tapped it and watched as the progress bar filled with blue from left to right. A chime filled his ears to mark the task complete. He laughed and willed himself out of the setting then out of the Lifeline altogether. Mama’s old laptop and the plain brown wooden coffee table slowly resolved before him. He pulled the Lifeline device from his ear as the usual sense of displacement left him dizzy and disoriented.
With a ringing in his head and a smile on his face, he set the small black device on the table, got up from the living room floor, and ran off to his room to get ready for bed. Mama would be home soon and he didn’t want to get a busted butt again for being late to bed.


The next morning when it was time for Mama to leave for work, Koadie sat outside swinging on the porch swing, wrapped up in his winter coat, books at his side. Mama pretended to gasp at the sight of him as she came out the front door and then laughed, letting out a huge cloud of thick white fog. Koadie smiled and kicked his legs in the air.
“Ain’t it awful early fa yo ass to be out here waitin’ on the bus already?”
“I dunno…” Koadie couldn’t stop grinning.
“Whatcha smilin’ about? You look like you got a secret, lil’ man.”
“No, Mama, I’m just in a good mood. Have a good day at work…”
“Oh shit.” She looked at her watch. “Yeah, I betta go, baby. You have a good day at school, now, ya hear?” She kissed Koadie on the forehead with a big wet slap and turned around just in time to reveal Rudy Donavon walking up to the bus stop with a big spiteful grin on his big fat face.
Great, there goes that good mood.
Koadie thought about his plan for revenge. He was hoping to let his worst enemy’s first attack of the day bounce off of him when the time came. A minute later Mama was gone in a cloud of smoke from the ear-shattering muffler of her huge white Oldsmobile and all that remained were four boys waiting at the bus stop with big intimidating smirks on each of their faces.
Koadie let his mouth fall into the usual frown and got up from the porch swing then dragged his feet down the narrow concrete steps.
He didn’t have to pretend to be sad for very long. Usually the abuse didn’t start until they were on the bus. Rudy would be too busy telling his boys about the latest girl he “banged,” but this morning was different. As soon as Koadie stepped up onto the curb in front of the bus stop, one of Rudy’s buddies, Corbin, shoved Koadie hard. Fighting to keep his balance, Koadie felt something jab in behind his ankles and then he hit the pavement. Rudy Donavan stood over him laughing with accomplishment while Koadie fought to suck air into his lungs.
“Oh, I’m sorry, shitface, did you trip over my foot?” Rudy looked at the other boys, and they all laughed. “Here, let me help you, shitface.” Rudy bent down and offered his hand to Koadie, who knew it was only going to end badly, but took it anyway. Rudy pulled Koadie up with pale delicate fingers right into a waiting sucker punch from his other hand. Koadie bent forward holding his stomach. Monster or not, Koadie had had enough. He was just about to throw his books down and start swinging when the bus pulled up behind him. The double doors folded open and Rudy ran up to be first in line on the bus, glaring back at Koadie with a half smile.


Mrs. Dillman’s class helped Koadie calm down and remember that he had a solid plan in place. By the time they’d moved on to English, the last subject of the day, Koadie was anticipating the bus ride home with great eagerness. He circled the predicate in each sentence just like the directions explained and had the assignment on Mrs. Dillman’s desk before anyone else. Then he sat waiting with twiddling thumbs for the bell to ring and his bus number to be called. He gripped the usb stick in his pocket tightly. If Rudy took the bait, it was only a matter of time before Koadie got him back. Big time.


Fighting to keep his smile in check, Koadie climbed into the bus. Most of the seats were empty, but that didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have to seek out Rudy, the bus ride home always brought Rudy to him. But unlike any other day, this time Koadie wanted Rudy to make his appearance. Wanted Rudy to pick a fight with him. Wanted Rudy to find the usb stick in his pocket and wanted Rudy to steal it, take it home, and use it.
When the bus was full and the voices of teen and preteen girls and boys rang out over the local droning pop radio station, Koadie reached in his pocket and wrapped his sweaty fingers one by one over the small black usb stick and waited. About half an hour and half the kids dropped off later, a hand reached over the green vinyl seat behind Koadie and smacked him on the head so hard the sting of it brought a chill up his spine and through his shoulders.
Rudy laughed that wicked laugh of little bastard bullies. “Hey, shithead, what’s ‘a matter?” He pushed Koadie into the window side of the seat and pressed his body against him, squeezing him into the wall of the bus. Koadie’s breath left him for the second time that day and he gasped to get it back. Rudy’s eyes twinkled as he stuck his middle knuckle out like a jagged point and punched Koadie’s leg at close painful range. It was time, Koadie realized as the tears built up around his eyes, threatening to spill over onto his cheeks and down his nose.
He shoved back against Rudy with all his might, putting every ounce of concentration into each muscle as he pressed against him, but it was like pushing against a concrete wall covered in solid steel. Rudy let out a breathy giggle and slammed back into him, pushing harder this time, squeezing Koadie even more and elbowing him several times in the ribs for good measure. “I don’t like it when you do that, shithead.” From Koadie’s limited view he caught the eye of the bus driver for what had to be the dozenth time and just like each occasion before, the man quickly turned his eyes away pretending he hadn’t seen.
Koadie did his best to get a good kick in, but Rudy grabbed his leg and pulled him closer then let his fists take turns punching Koadie in the stomach. Right, left, right, left. Koadie leaned forward in between punches and threw out his own fist in a phony attempt to hit back. Rudy took the bait and grabbed Koadie’s hand. Koadie let go of the drive and it fell to the floor with a loud plastic clack.
“What—” Rudy shoved Koadie back against the wall then reached down blindly with his eyes on Koadie and his lips stretched into a sideways grin. “Looks like you dropped something, shithead.” Rudy sat upright holding the flash drive in his hand like a trophy to tower over all others. “Well, looky here.” He turned the small drive over in his hands. “Thirty-two terabytes. Nice. Thank you very much, shithead. I’ll treasure this always.” He scooted over real close to Koadie. “Here, I’ve got a gift for you too.” He leaned down and spit full on in Koadie’s face, leaving a wad of gooey phlegm sliding down Koadie’s cheekbone.
Just then the bus came to a halt and Rudy grabbed the seat in front of them and rose to his feet, gave Koadie one more devious look, then sauntered down the middle aisle and down the steps off the bus. Koadie grinned with a face covered in mucus.


The paper towels the bus driver gave him had gotten most of the nastiness off of his face and out of his hair, but when Koadie got home, the first thing he did was run for the bathroom and take a quick shower to thoroughly wash his face. He was a very independent child, always cleaning himself, taking care of his chores, and finishing his homework without having to be asked or reminded. But what he managed in responsibility he couldn’t seem to balance with social skills. He knew that. Understood it. But he didn’t know how to change it—or at least he hadn’t known before. Now, he had the answer. Eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth. He had learned the phrase sitting with Mama at church and now he would put it to use. Clean from his shower, Koadie dried himself off and dressed, then went straight to his bedroom and turned on Mama’s old gray laptop.


Rudy Donavon had just finished washing the old man’s antique Chevy Volt when he remembered the little shithead’s flash drive. He set the soapy blue rag down in the water bucket, dried his hands on his pants and pulled out the drive and looked it over. He wondered what was on it. Probably stupid kid stuff. Thirty-two terabytes wasn’t bad, but he wished the kid had let loose of a 256 or more. Oh well, little shithead hooked me up anyway. He let out a cackle that went on until the voice of his father stopped him cold.
“Just what the fuck are you laughing about, boy? Get back to work until that goddamn car is sparkling.” Father’s belt buckle gleamed in the dwindling sunlight, catching Rudy’s eye. He nodded, slipping the drive into his pocket quickly so his father wouldn’t see, and picked the wet rag back out of the bucket and went back to scrubbing the cherry red Volt.
Bob Donavon was a stocky man, tan and muscular with reddish blond hair, thick glasses, and a shaggy mustache that gave him a deceptively friendly appearance. But his son knew better. All too well. Standing in neat beige slacks with plain gray suspenders, his shirt thrown aside after a hard day’s work, cold beer in hand, Bob sat back down on the front porch watching Rudy with a look Rudy thought a prison guard might give an inmate who’d recently tried to escape.
Rudy spotted three crushed empty cans on the floor scattered beside his father’s feet. Four? Great. The evening had only just begun.


It was full on dark when Rudy was finally done washing the old man’s Volt. After scrubbing every last inch of its metal shell, vacuuming and scraping every crevice inside, and finally toweling it all dry to his father’s drunkenly absurd expectations, the old man finally let him go up to his room, but not without a few slurred threats of black eyes and bruised ass cheeks.
Rudy pulled out his old laptop and hooked up the flash drive. He hoped to use the stick to hide his latest Lifeline porn. The last time his father found his virtual perceptual porn collection, he beat Rudy black and blue and then took the files for himself. Rudy knew because that night the moans that came from his father’s usually lonely bedroom came from one solitary male voice. It wasn’t likely he’d be scrubbing that from his brain anytime soon.
But he didn’t let that stop him from finding the juiciest girls online though. At least that way he wasn’t lying to the other guys when he bragged about the girls he banged all the time. Deep down, he knew he didn’t have the balls yet to do it with a real girl. Besides, real girls wouldn’t give him the time of day.
The flash drive’s root folder popped up on his screen with only a handful of files. Silly kid stuff just like he thought but—wait. What’s this?
Nice. A present from shithead.
Rudy set the Laptop down quietly and snuck over to his bedroom door, locking it. Then he opened his desk drawer and pulled out a black phallic-shaped Lifeline device with the letters “HPDID”—Human Perceptual Digital Interface Device—on the side. He picked up the laptop and started up LifeShare. A tan image with the LifeShare logo—several smiling male and female faces with closed eyes and Lifelines in their ears—popped up. When the program was open and waiting, he went into settings and clicked the Privacy tab. Sure enough, under Physical Host Connections, Vocal and Basic were switched to “Private Mode.” Unlike the old man, he knew how to get the job done quietly. He put the device in his ear and with HOT_FUCKING_BLONDE.lif highlighted, he slammed the Enter key and waited for the pleasure to begin.

Monday, January 5, 2015


Huge Empire of Blood News

Rising From Ashes: Empire of Blood Book III to be serialized in video, audio, and ebook on Patreon!

Some of you have been waiting a long time to read Rising From Ashes, and now you won't have to wait much longer. I've started a Patreon page and will be serializing the book over there pre-publication. I'll also be doing all kinds of other stuff there like video how-tos on writing and editing, multimedia stories, and much more. Check out the Youtube video embedded below or just follow THIS LINK to go directly to my new Patreon page.

I'm going into uncharted territory with this next book and I hope you'll come with me on this strange and exciting journey! Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, and emailing me to tell me how much you've enjoyed my work. Your support means the world to me!

Sincerely and most appreciatively yours,

Robert S. Wilson