Saturday, October 31, 2015


Brought to you by Patricia Lynne  
A Halloween Treat of Free Books!

Hosting the 

My Contribution to 
Share A Scare 

is a short excerpt from
my WIP
WARNING - graphic violence 

The Snowman


October 31

Stone tilted the autopsy table and locked it in place. Everything was in order.
His latest victim struggled against her restraints. "You don't have to do this," she cried. He loved how her voice wavered in her throat. Such a pretty throat.
"But I do,” Stone said. “I need your blood. I'm creating new colors for my latest masterpiece."
"I'll give you my blood." Her voice showed her growing panic.
"I know, sweetheart, I know." Stone smoothed the hair back from her face. "So lovely of you to offer," His phone alarmed. "Sorry, time's running short. So I'll just take what I want." He stuffed a hand towel into her gaping mouth and made his first cut. Then a second. Then a third and fourth. He was mesmerized by the colored tracks flowing down her arms and legs. He watched the tears streaming from her eyes and laughed. A pity tears were colorless.
Stone checked his watch. He hated being on a deadline. He raised his scalpel; saw its reflection in the pupil of her terror filled eyes. Her fear fed his ego. With no regret, he slit her throat in one smooth action. The blood spurted. "Damn it, that's what I get for rushing."
Despite the mess, his gaze never wavered. Her lifeblood gushed, her body slackened, and the light left her eyes as the crimson fluid flowed into the bucket under the table. Death took her in His arms.
The moment was captured in staccato clicks as Stone's trusty Nikon went through its paces.
Stone added a cup of formaldehyde to the viscous mixture and stirred it vigorously. He dipped his brush into its freshness and began painting. Swirls, splattered droplets, and elongated drips soon filled the twelve by fourteen canvas. Joy rose up from his deepest being and a sense of satisfaction overwhelmed him. This creation would be his best. He was sure that with the addition of formaldehyde, the color wouldn't turn brown. The crimson he loved would be the star of his masterpiece, the hue that would leave art lovers and critics breathless.
The morning was cold and Stone knew it would only get colder. He hated winter, dreaded the darkness, the extra thick clothing, the icy streets and biting winds. Stone loathed Alaska. He yearned for West Virginia, but his mother wouldn't hear of moving. She put her prestigious job, her friends, and the home she adored before her only son. She wasn't leaving, and without her support neither was he.
He grunted when he threw the body over his shoulder. "Damn, the dead weigh a ton," he moaned. Placing it on the bed of the truck, he slammed the tailgate. The sound pleased him, echoing as it did in the stillness.
The tide was out and the sound of waves - distant. He'd made sure the park was empty, and after cruising the streets for half an hour, he was certain the area was cop free. His police radio scanner told him all he needed to know—they were busy working a hit and run near Merrill Field. He grabbed his flashlight, but he knew the way to the dumpsite. He'd reconnoitered a week ago.
He placed her corpse carefully under the pine tree, covering her lower half with a garbage bag. He tucked it neatly under her legs so it wouldn't blow away, but showed just enough of her cute crena to entice. He placed her arms alongside her head, as though she were relaxing on the sand for the perfect tan. Her manicured fingers were placed just so and her head, he turned to the left then brushed her newly bleached hair neatly over her back. She looked like a sleeping doll. He took several pictures for his scrapbook. He didn't want to leave her. He popped a piece of spearmint gum while he admired his handiwork. Damn, I'm good.
He kneeled to caress her pure white skin, but a light on the road above the park startled him. Gathering his materials, he picked up a branch and with his makeshift broom, he cleared the area of any footprints. He left the way he'd entered.
When he arrived home at 7:00 AM, his mother was getting ready to leave for work.
"Hey Mom, told you I'd make it back before you left." Dropping his duffel bag and carefully wrapped canvas, he kissed her on the forehead.
"Two minutes more and you wouldn't have. You know I value punctuality." She cringed when he removed his jacket. "Where have you been? At a slaughterhouse?"
"Oh, sorry. Joey and I cleaned the moose he shot. I would have changed, but didn't take an extra shirt."
"Well, get that off and into the washer now! Cold rinse should get it out. Let it soak. Those jeans too. I might not be able to see blood but if it's on that shirt, it's on those jeans."
She kept chatting away while Stone stripped in the laundry room off the kitchen. Unashamed of being naked in front of his mother, he walked her to the door, dropping a big kiss on her cheek.
“Have a good day, Mommy,” he cooed.
She returned the kiss, smiling the rare smile she kept for him alone. “You’re a good boy, Stowy. You’ll always be Mommy’s good boy.”

He watched as she drove away, then grabbed his backpack and unique canvas. He hurried to the basement, his domain. In a secret room off his bedroom, he found the perfect spot on the wall for his latest masterpiece. Taking a container from his backpack, he covered his entire body with her blood. Stone pleasured himself twice, to the image of her final moment, before falling asleep wrapped in bear fur.
~~~ ~~~
2015 ©Yolanda Renée

My contribution to the 
Trick or Treat
Book Blog Hop

is my latest release

FREE on Amazon 

All commenters will be entered into a drawing to receive a FREE eBook copy of 


and an eBook copy of


The winner will be announced at midnight on October 31st!

And the winner is

Debbie D.



  1. Happy Halloween!

    I wouldn't want to meet Stone when out alone. There's something completely broken, but dependent about him. he gave me the creeps - nicely done!

    Thanks for joining in the Share-A-Scare :)

  2. Happy Halloween!

    Stone is a brilliantly written sociopath - I'm guessing a lot of his trouble spring from his mother? Chilling!

    Thank you for taking part in Share a Scare - I'm so enjoying hopping round the blogs.
    Tasha's Thinkings | Wittegen Press

  3. Your opening sentence gave me MAJOR CHILLS!!! (lucky it's early afternoon and still plenty of light... I'm not reading these chilly stories when it's dark.. not any more...)
    Love this: Death took her in His arms. Wonderful!
    Mummy's good boy? Ha! Mummy has NO IDEA what a monster she's raised!
    Happy Halloween Yolanda!

  4. A piece sure broke off of him somewhere along the way. Mommy is rather blind to what she created.

  5. Such a twisted character! If his mother only knew. Your excerpt is spellbinding, Yolanda. This would make a good movie. Happy Halloween!

  6. A pity tears were colorless.

    That's my favourite sentence. Beyond chilling. Stone is a seriously messed up chap, his mother had better watch out, I'm guessing she'll soon have more than just bloody shirts to worry about.

    You do violence to perfection, Yolanda, always. Happy Halloween!

  7. Stone is a very disturbing artist; I'm not sure I'd like to go to a gallery showing of his work! Thanks for entering the Trick or Treat blog hop; it would be awesome to win one of your books.

  8. Happy Halloween. Thanks for joining the fun. =D

  9. Definitely a very scary sick guy. Happy Halloween.

  10. Yolanda, this story would make a major thriller in the way of James Patterson in his early days. Or Deaver or those of his ilk. Gripping from start to finish. You are one horror writer extraordinaire. Happy Halloween!

  11. Oh man, that is super creepy! I'm going to have nightmares now!


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