GeraldRice   03-19-2013, 10:31 AM
#1
Hey, everyone. I just wanted to let you all know about my new short, The Prophet, written under my pen name Jay Rauld. It's a $0.99 horror/comedy short with a good deal of existentialism thrown in.

Description
Greg is a reporter who is about to get the story of his life. The Prophet, an elusive figure who makes predictions about disasters has just tapped him to do an exclusive interview. Except Greg's not really a reporter. Two minutes before entering his apartment, he didn't exist and when he meets the Prophet he finds out his true purpose- to kill the Prophet. But killing someone who is near omnipotent isn't easy, in fact, it takes more than one try even if you get it right.
The Prophet is a half horror, half comedy, half weird and will leave your jaw fully dropped by story's end.

Greg’s heart was racing like a heavy metal drum solo. He closed his eyes for a count of three and ran down. He tripped over someone he never even saw and they both rolled down the concrete steps. Greg hit his elbow and tailbone, crying out once in the tangle of arms and legs with a man whose skin didn’t feel right to the touch. They both came up, the man placing his hands on his knees as Greg grabbed wall to pull himself upright.
“Man, you gotta be more careful,” the man said. Greg looked at him and his mouth fell open. The man had a defleshed goat skull for a head and his skin was a shade of purple. He looked up at Greg with deep-yellow, owlish eyes and said, “What?”
Greg couldn’t speak. He shook his head. The man narrowed his eyes and his tongue rolled out of his mouth.
“Sayyyyy,” he said. “Are you that reporter guy?” He pointed a sleeveless, muscular arm at Greg. “It’s you!” He took a step forward, grunted, then looked down at his vest. The butt of the long knife stuck out of his torso like a handle. “Fuuu…” He collapsed.

You can also get it on the UK store here.
Barnes & Noble
Smashwords

They passed an old woman who was just opening the door of a brown Cadillac. An old man was already sitting in the passenger seat. The car had a personalized plate with the letters “J-U-S-P-R-A-Y”.
“That stuff work?” Israel said to her.
“‘Scuse me?” the little old woman said, clutching her keys.
“The spray. Does it keep them away?”
“Keep who away?” She looked confused.
“I gotcha.” Israel gave her a conspiratorial wink.

www.feelmyghost.webs.com
  
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