Title: Who's Eating Eric Lynch?
Word count: 116,000
Genre: Adult Horror Comedy
Misdiagnosed with schizophrenia, Eric Lynch’s hallucinations are actually precognition. Enter a demon who absorbs supernatural powers, and Eric’s about to become demon chow—unless he can convince a group of rogue angels that his deadbeat ass is worth protecting.
Working for minimum wage at a retail store, trying his best not to end up back in the asylum for a third time…it’s not like Eric is next in line for winning the Nobel Prize. So why are demons always so drawn to him, particularly this one nasty manticore who’s been hiding in his closet since he was thirteen?
Well, okay. Maybe it’s because not only can Eric see the future, but he can manipulate time too. Prophet is what the angels call him. The precognition, the time manipulation—that’s exactly why Eric is so appetizing. The only reason the manticore hasn’t eaten Eric yet is because it’s waiting for Eric’s powers to ripen. And let’s face it, a demon able to manipulate time means trouble for everyone.
After tracking a group of angels to their hideout, it doesn't take much convincing to get them on Eric’s side. Maybe too much on his side. Eric soon discovers once the manticore has been dealt with, these angels are likely to lock him up so they can use his Prophetic powers to fulfill their own demon-hunting agenda.
Angelic weapon or prime rib? Either way, Eric might be screwed.
First 250 words:
They say the human brain can survive for three seconds after decapitation. I’m talking full-blown cognizant thought, where you can move your mouth and blink your eyes. It makes you wonder what kind of expletives might shoot through your head, especially when you see your body lying on the floor beside you. And hopefully it’s not one of those embarrassing situations where your head goes rolling across the carpet, because then your final moments are nothing but dizziness, trying to puke from a stomach no longer attached to your mouth.
This subject came up a few months ago when one of my psychiatrists asked me what I think about when I have nothing else on my mind, most notably while trying to fall asleep or taking a shower. According to her, low brain activity is a subconscious beehive ready to burst. She believed my inner musings might be to blame for my tipping sanity—at the very least my insomnia—and it was only a matter of time before I was stung by another violent impulse.
“Maybe now we’ll get to the bottom of all your…issues, Eric,” she said at the end of our last meeting while patting me on the knee, laughing.
She was such a bi—…nice lady.
That night they found her bloody corpse sprawled across her living room floor. The reports said her body looked like it was mauled by a giant cat, head ripped off and missing. Two days after the investigation, her husband found her stolen head inside their microwave.
Entry Nickname: Tag, You’re Dead
Title: Tag, You’re Dead (originally The Game)
Word count: 80K
Genre: YA Thriller
When six teenagers play Tag in present-day Chicago, there’s a twist from the childhood version…if you get Tagged, you get Dead.
The three "Its" have their reasons for buying a place in the Game: surgically-enhanced Brandy is dying to destroy a naturally beautiful girl; untalented Robin desires his target's position on the school basketball team; and brainiac Charles craves a battle against an intellectual equal.
Three hand-picked innocents play as “Runners,” under threat to their loved ones should they refuse to participate: lovely, small-town Laura; superstar athlete William; and Amanda, gamer extraordinaire. These three want only one thing…to survive.
As soon as the Runners receive the “Go” on smart watches locked onto their wrists, the Game rockets them through the city, from the El to Michigan Avenue to the Lincoln Park Zoo. There is no time to rest; every thirty minutes the Runners’ coordinates are transmitted to the Its, which diminishes the Runners’ chances of ever reaching Home Base alive.
The Game will not end until someone is Tagged, so the Runners must choose how to play: will they accept death, murder their Its, or find a way to use their individual strengths to stop the Game before anyone dies?
TAG, YOU’RE DEAD alternates among the POVs of all six players in the Game – who will live to see it end?
First 250 words:
Friday, 8:00 PM
“I can’t choose,” Brandy Inkrott said. “I want to kill them all.”
“Tag,” her mother said from her brocaded antique chair. “You want to Tag them all.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Either way,” her father said, “I’m afraid you have to pick one.”
Brandy studied the images of the teenage girls on the screen. Brunettes. Blondes. Asians. Hispanics. Light-skinned. Dark-skinned. Every one of them gorgeous. Every one of them middle-class. No-names. None of them like her. “They’re all so perfect. Can I pick more than one?”
A woman’s voice pierced the air, emanating from Surround Sound speakers. “The price for two would be extravagant, Ms. Inkrott. Plus, Tagging more than one Runner would be difficult. Almost impossible.”
“I don’t care. I can do it.”
Her father shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”
“I suggest this,” the woman said. “Play this time with one. If you are successful you may play again, and then you can go after two. I know it’s tempting when you see all those beautiful faces, but you’d be setting yourself up for disappointment.”
“What do you know?” Brandy said. “You’re probably some fat old lady in a trailer park somewhere. I could Tag you.”
Silence sizzled over the speaker.
“I’m sorry, Madame Referee,” Brandy’s father said. “She didn’t mean it.”
“Did so,” Brandy said.
“Bran, honey, please.”
The girls’ faces on the television disappeared, replaced by only one, which took up the entire surface of the eighty-inch screen. The woman shown there was incredible.