E. Van Lowe is an
author, television writer and producer who has worked on such TV shows as
"The Cosby Show," "Even Stevens," and "Homeboys In
Outer Space." He has been nominated for both an Emmy and an Academy Award.
His first YA Paranormal novel, "Never Slow Dance With A Zombie," was
a selection of The Scholastic Book Club, and a nominee for an American Library
Association Award. Included in his many
books are bestselling novels, “Boyfriend From Hell” and “Earth Angel.”
He is also, horror
novelist, Sal Conte, author of the 80s horror classics “Child’s Play” and “The
Power.” Sal’s short stories “The
Toothache Man,” and “Because We Told Her To,” are available as ebooks only on
Amazon.
E lives in Beverly
Hills California with his spouse, a werewolf, several zombies and a fairy
godmother who grants him wishes from time-to-time.
SAYING
GOODBYE TO A DEAR FRIEND ~ Guest Post by E. Van Lowe
When
I was a kid, my brother had a record (yes, there were records back then, 45s,
in fact) by Smokey Robinson and The Miracles, titled What’s So Good About Goodbye.
*Singing* What's so
good about goodbye, all it does is make you cry. I know—I have a
lousy singing voice.
Seriously,
since starting this journey of novel writing, most of the time I’ve been
writing series, in fact, one series in particular, The Falling Angels Saga.
In late 2013 when I turned in the final
draft of the final book titled Falling, I said goodbye
to Megan, Guy, Maudrina and Aunt Jaz. It was like saying goodbye to dear
friends. From what I've read, some
writers can't wait to get on with their lives after completing a series, while
others have a tear in their eye. For me it was a little of
both. I was happy to finish the series, although I had no idea what was
next for me, and that was a little scary. Now, I do, and what I have for
you today is more than a little scary. I
have my first stand-alone novel since 2009.
The Secrets of Love and Death. And it’s downright
bone-chilling.
It’s written along with my
horror-writing alter ego, Sal Conte, and I am very excited to share it with you.
Here’s the setup:
A tragic young life turns joyous when 13
year-old Theo “Turtle” Dawson meets Rita Calderon. Love between the young couple blooms, and
we’re rooting for that love. Then,
Turtle’s older brother (whom he idolized growing up) returns from the grave
(Adrian died in a car accident two years earlier) in the form of a vengeful
ghost… or, is he something else all-together?
It’s a horror story, so things go south pretty quickly.
I won’t spoil it for you by revealing
anything more. The Secrets of Love and Death is available today and tomorrow
only for just 99 cents (reduced from $5.99). Please go to the book’s Amazon
page and see what reviewers are already saying about it (seventeen 4 and 5 star
reviews) and then pick up your copy while it’s still available at the 99 cent
bargain price. What’s so good about
goodbye? I get to share this new book
with you, that’s what.
I am also sponsoring The Sweet Chocolate Secrets of
Love and Death Giveaway with a prize worth over
$100. Why not check out both the book and the giveaway before time runs out.
And, if you’re around today, August 14th at 6 pm Eastern, stop by my
The
Secrets of Love and Death Virtual Launch Party on Facebook.
#Virtuallaunchparty I plan to give a prize away every 6 minutes, and the first
drink is on me. The party will be hosted
on my Facebook fan page: https://www.facebook.com/author.e.vanlowe
If you can’t make the party, you can find
me at my usual haunts.
Genre:
Romantic/Horror
Publisher: White
Whisker Books
Date of
Publication: July 12, 2015
ISBN: 13:
2940150851580
ASIN: B010IFNF2Q
Number of pages:
270
Word Count:
104,269
Cover Artist: Deb
Daly
Book Description:
Theo
"Turtle" Dawson is overweight, under-confident and unloved, that is
until the arrival of Turtle's new classmate, feisty Rita Calderon. It's
springtime in Foster City, and young love between the teenage couple begins to
bloom, until...
...Turtle's best
friend, big brother returns from the grave. At least that's what A.D. wants
Turtle to believe. Is A.D. really back among the living, or is Turtle going
loony-bin crazy? And if Turtle's loving brother has returned, why is he asking
Turtle to do such murderous things? "The Secrets of Love and Death"
is a ghostly tale of romance and horror, memories, and murder.
ebook On Sale for
.99
Aug 14-16
My review for The Secrets of Love and Death
“The
Secrets of Love and Death will tug on your heartstrings while simultaneously
scaring the pants off you. A triumphant coming-of-age tale with a dash of the
supernatural and a twist of gritty horror, The Secrets of Love and Death may be
Van Lowe’s best novel yet!”
– Anabelle Blume,
author of Frozen Heart and Melted Tears.
“E.
Van Lowe and his dark twin, Sal Conte, dig deep in The Secrets of Love and
Death and come up with emotional gold. Not for the faint of heart, The Secrets
of Love and Death will grab you by the throat and not let go until the horror-filled,
page-turning
ending.”
- John Lansing, author of the bestselling
thrillers, The Devil’s Necktie and Blond Cargo
Prologue
Spring
1984
“I
don’t wanna go out!”
Marty
McKenzie was scrunching up his face, looking very much like that prune-faced
old guy in the Six Flags commercials. He’d been lying on the floor playing with
his Legos which were splayed out before him like the ruins of an ancient city.
“See, that’s the thing,” said Marty’s older
sister, Allison. She pushed her glasses up onto her nose. “You’re not goin’
with me.”
Marty’s
expression shifted, morphing from one of protest to one of concern—dire
concern. He stopped playing and sat up. They weren’t real Legos. His father had
bought the blocks for Marty’s fifth birthday when he visited almost a year ago.
He told Marty they were Legos, but Marty new better. He didn’t say anything. He
didn’t want his father feeling bad about being gypped at the Lego store. The
Legos were one of the few gifts Marty’s father had ever bought for him. He
treasured them.
“You can’t leave me,” he said, his voice going
high and whiny, like a baby’s. Even he heard it.
“I’m
not leaving you. I’m treating you like a grownup for once in your life. You
don’t want me treatin’ you like a little baby anymore, right?” Allison knew
full well no little kid wanted to be treated like a baby, especially one as
close to being a baby as Marty was.
“But
Mommy says I’m not to be left home alone,” Marty replied, his voice going even
higher. He tried keeping it level. Put some base into yer voice, I say! Yet the
babiness crept back in.
“That’s
because Mom thinks you’re a little baby,” Allison said, laying on the
word—baaaby—extra heavy. “But I know better.” She winked at him. “We both do,
don’t we?” she said, playing her six-year-old brother like a well-worn
instrument.
Marty
nodded. He was ascared of being left in the apartment all by himself. But he
knew if he told Allison about the monster that lived in the closet, or the one
that hung out under his bed, she’d laugh and call him a scaredy-cat, or worse,
a baaaby.
Even at his age, Marty was wise
enough to know that at twelve, Allison was too old to understand there really
were monsters out there, monsters that had their eyes on tasty little kids.
A few years ago she would have
sympathized with him. A few years ago they’d both hidden under the covers,
quaking in the darkness and talking in loud voices until the monsters went
away. But somewhere between the sixth and seventh grades the monsters stopped
being real for Allison, around the same time she started writing boys’ names on
the inside cover of her notebook.
“Where’re ya goin’?” Marty asked,
trying to add some grownup to his voice and failing miserably at it.
“To the mall, with some friends.
We’re shopping for something fun to wear to a party next weekend.”
“Can I—”
“No!” the word exploded from her
lips. “You can’t go to the mall with me, and you definitely can’t go to the
party. It’s at night, anyway.”
“Who has a party at night time?
That’s dumb,” Marty said, although the idea of a night time party sounded
pretty cool, as long as there were lots of lights burning. It was darkness that
was scary.
“You are not to answer the door
while I’m gone. Do I make myself clear?” she said in a tone very much like one
their mother might have used.
Marty nodded again. He was happy for
Allison. She’d made some friends. Allison had had a hard time making friends
during the past two years as the family bounced from shelter to shelter. Marty
knew from first-hand experience that Allison made a wonderful friend. She was kind and caring. Unfortunately, those
qualities hadn’t been recognized in Allison’s last school. In her last school,
all they saw was the homeless girl.
“What am I supposed to do the whole
time you’re gone?” Marty asked.
“The same thing you always do—play.
And this time you’ll have our bedroom all to yourself. How cool is that?”
Marty looked toward the bedroom he
shared with his sister, the only bedroom in the apartment. Their mother slept
on the pullout in the living room where he was now playing. His thoughts again
turned to the monster that lived in the closet, and his pal lurking under
Marty’s bed, and Marty could practically see the two of them licking their
chops at the thought of having him all to themselves.
“Think I’ll play out here while
you’re gone,” he told her with a resigned sigh.
“Suit yourself.”
From the look on Allison’s face, it
hadn’t dawned on her that he’d be afraid. To ease her guilt, she built the
neatest pillow fort and stocked it with enough books, coloring books, toys and
puzzles to keep Marty busy until she got back. She even brought the Captain
Crunch cereal box from the kitchen and told him he could snack from it right
there in the living room—just like a grownup.
“These are your rations,” she said,
handing it to him. He smiled at that one, and it eased some of the guilt that
had been gripping her heart.
“Thanks.”
Allison deposited Marty in the
center of the fort, gave him a big hug, and reminded him not to open the door
for anyone.
“This is just between you and me,”
she said, her voice lowering dramatically. “I don’t want you blabbin’ my
business to Mom when she gets home from work. Got it?”
Marty nodded. His tongue was desert
dry.
“I’ll bring you some ice cream, you
little con man,” she said, rubbing her hand across the top of his head.
“That’d be nice,” he replied with
the shadow of a smile. “Chocolate.”
It would be the last thing they’d
ever say to each other.
The sound of Allison moving away
from the door, her footsteps retreating down the stairs—away, away, away—died
in Marty’s ears. “Good riddance to bad rubbish,” he called. Of course, she
couldn’t hear him. He laughed high and loud. It was a fake laugh and when it
died, Marty realized he was alone.
The first thing he noticed about being
alone was how quiet the apartment was without Allison or his mother there. No
chattering voices of the two of them going at it again, no music from the radio
filling up the empty spaces. Phoebe kept the radio on whenever she was home.
“Dance to the music!” Sometimes
she’d sing along with a song on the radio, grab Marty and dance him around the
apartment. “You’re my new leading man,” she’d say, twirling him.
“Stop, Mom!” he’d cry out, but he
enjoyed dancing with her. He especially enjoyed that she was happy again.
With both Phoebe and Allison gone,
the apartment was nighttime quiet, even though Marty could see the bright
Spring sun streaming in through the living room blinds, casting long shadows on
the faded carpet.
He looked down at the treasure Allison
had dumped in his fort before she left. Think I’ll read. I’m a big boy now, and
that’s what big boys do. We don’t play; we read.
Marty picked up his favorite book,
Tall Timber Tales, about Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox. He decided to read
the part about where Babe drank the entire Grand Coulee River. He wasn’t sure
how big the Grand Coulee was, but he knew it was a lot of water.
He’d gotten the book when he was
small, picked it out himself off a table at The Salvation Army. Allison used to
read it to him at night back at the shelter, back when all he could do was look
at the pictures. But now that he was a big boy, he could read it all by
himself—sort of. He opened to the section with the picture of Babe drinking the
river and pretended to read… What was that?
A sound. A soft, sliding sound had
come from Marty and Allison’s bedroom. It sounded to Marty as though someone
or… something had slid out from underneath his bed.
“Hello.” No answer. Of course there
wasn’t an answer. There’s nothing there. It’s just my magination. Allison
complained about his overactive magination all the time.
“I know there’s no monster there,”
Marty called out. “So you may as well get back under the bed.” Nothing.
Marty glanced down at the book in
his lap. He folded it back to the picture of Paul and Babe on the cover. He
enjoyed staring at the picture on the cover because when he did, he could
magine himself hangin’ out with old Paul and Babe. He could magine so good that
sometimes it was as if he was right there with them.
Skreek!
Marty’s attention was again drawn to
the bedroom. He peered wide-eyed around the arm of the old couch because this
time he was certain he’d heard the closet door opening, certain he now heard
whispering—monster voices.
I gotta get outta here. The thought
drifted in like an early season snow, yet stuck like the first big fall of the
year. If I don’t leave now, all they’ll find of me are bones and clothes.
Monsters only eat the good stuff. Then, another thought drifted in.
Scaredy-cat.
That’s what Allison would call him
for being so afraid. And I thought you were a big boy… I AM A BIG BOY!
Marty began to rationalize: I’m a
big kid. Big kids can go out all by themselves—just like Allison did. The idea
of him being a big boy was a lot more palatable than thinking he was afraid.
Marty clung to it like a lifeline. He wasn’t leaving the apartment ‘cause he
was scared, he was leaving because he wanted to go to the mall, too. He wanted
to hang out with his friends. Shoot.
Marty gingerly got up off the floor
and measured his footsteps to the front door. He could hear the monsters
gathering in the bedroom, their excited chatter no longer whispered. Why
whisper? He’s all alone. He knew if he tried to run they’d get him. Monsters
loved grabbing little boys as they ran. He needed to move toward the door as if
he wasn’t afraid.
The shelter they’d lived in on Saul
Road was a scary place, especially at night. Allison had told him to count to
ten whenever he needed to walk down the long hallway all by himself. She told
him whenever he was afraid to take a deep breath, count to ten and let it out
slowly. “Just keep telling yourself there’s nothing there, and pretty soon
you’ll be down the hall.”
Marty had used the trick several
hair-raising times at the shelter, and it seemed to have worked, so he gently
placed the Paul Bunyan book on top of a pillow and sucked in a lung full of
air. One. He took a furtive step over the pillowed wall, one foot now resting
just outside the fort, the other still in. Two. Now the other leg came over,
easy, easy. He let out a little bit of the air as both feet rested outside the
fort.
Gotta get to the door. Gotta move to
the door like I’m not afraid. If I’m afraid, they’ll get me.
Three.
Marty took a jangly step toward the
door, then--four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. He bolted across the
room. Arriving at the door, he flung it open and let out the deep breath in a
big whoosh! The monsters had quieted down. They only bothered little kids, and
he’d proven he was a big boy now.
Kathunk!
This new sound came just as Marty
was thinking he was safe. It caught him off guard, and he nearly leapt out of
his skin like a snake in shed-mode. He charged out the front door, fleeing into
the corridor of the apartment building.
It was the sound of Marty’s book
falling from the pillow and hitting the floor that had alarmed him, but to
Marty’s imaginative ears, it was the sound of a monster exiting the bedroom,
looking for a little boy to eat.
Marty looked back at the apartment door
hanging open, and decided to leave it open. He surmised that if the door was
wide open maybe the monsters’d leave while he’s gone and never come back. He
was too young to realize that leaving the front door open in a neighborhood as
iffy as theirs was an invitation for the McKenzie’s precious possessions to
walk away along with the monsters.
He moved downstairs and out into the
crowded street. It was broad daylight, and the sun beat down on the top of
Marty’s head feeling good. The street was teeming with people, and Marty was no
longer afraid. The people were passing by as if he belonged there. Not one
person said: “Hey little boy, where’s your mother?”
Allison is going to crap a brick
when she sees me at the mall, Marty thought with a grin. “What are you doing
here?” “Oh, just came to hang out with some of my boys. You know, Paul, Babe,
the crew.” Hahaaa!
Yet as Marty continued walking, it
started getting scary out on the street all by himself. Everyone looked as if
they knew where they were going. But so do I. I’m going to the mall.
As he neared the Canal Street alley,
his footsteps slowed. The Canal Street alley wasn’t actually an alley. It was a
narrow pedestrian walkway between two tall buildings that connected Main Street
with Fair Oaks. On any given Saturday the alley was heavily trafficked. Call it
a fluke, call it a moment in time, call it a curveball, but when Marty arrived
at the alley on Saturday June fifteenth nineteen eighty-four, it was ominously
vacant of foot traffic.
He thought he remembered the alley
being the shortcut to the mall. He remembered going through the alley with
Allison and his mother to go shopping. Or was that his magination? No. He was
sure.
He stopped at the alley entrance.
His first inclination was to wait for other pedestrians to pass through and
then mosey through along with them. With the buildings being so close together,
the alley was heavily shadowed; the shadows were really scary.
But Marty also remembered he was a
big boy now. He waited another few minutes, and when no one came along, he
breathed in deeply and entered the ally all by himself. One. The cobblestones of the alley felt odd
and slick beneath his feet. It was then he realized he was still in his footsie
PJs. He didn’t have on any shoes. Dumb! Allison is gonna crap a brick when she
sees me out here without my sneaks on. But it was too late to turn back. He was
closer to the mall than he was to the apartment. Who needs shoes anyway? Two.
There were several scary looking doorways lining the alley, and a big marquee
near the end that read Bijou Theater.
Three. Marty moved past the first of
the ominous doorways and, as he did, he let out a little bit of the air. Not
much further.
That’s when he heard a door scraping
open up ahead. It startled him, the scraping sound in the quiet alley, like
something out of a horror movie. His eyes grew wide as something emerged from
the doorway, stepping into the alley. At first he thought it was a clown, but
clowns are freakin’ scary and this thing wasn’t. This thing seemed warm, and
cuddly, and friendly. Out of the doorway, down the alley, stepped a life-size
blue teddy bear.
Marty knew it wasn’t a real bear. It
couldn’t be. Right? It was a person in a bear costume, just like at the
amusement park. Wasn’t it?
The giant teddy bear looked at
Marty. It stopped moving, eyeing him cautiously, like a deer in the woods
seeing a hunter for the first time.
Is it trembling?
At that moment the teddy bear seemed
real. The teddy bear also seemed to be afraid of him. Marty started to call out
It’s okay, don’t run, I’m not gonna hurt you.
But before he could speak, the teddy bear began to dance. It was a silly
teddy bear dance and Marty was happy to see that the teddy bear had overcome
his fear.
The teddy bear was a lot like Marty.
Hadn’t Marty been afraid not too long ago? Now they were both in the alley,
unafraid. The kindred bear danced his silly dance up the alley toward Marty,
and for the first time since Allison had left him in the apartment all alone,
Marty smiled.
Be sure to head over to E's for a yummy chocolate giveaway:
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**No compensation was received for posting. This post is part of a blitz tour.
nice prologue
ReplyDeleteI'm actually a fan of E's writing :) I'm looking forward to reading this one!
ReplyDeleteNice to see the excerpt, interesting to see the 80's making a comeback
ReplyDelete