The Horror Honeys: Horror Author Spotlight: Tim Miller's "Dead to Writes"

Horror Author Spotlight: Tim Miller's "Dead to Writes"

Hardcover Horror Indie Spotlight:
Tim Miller began writing at a very young age. As a teenager he would write short stories of horror to entertain himself and his friends. Not knowing at the time this would one day lead to his dream of becoming a published author. Tim has studied various religions and psychology as evident in the “Hand of God” books and “Dark Exorcist.”
From there, Tim began to venture into the realm of splatterpunk and extreme horror, which kicks the gore factor into overdrive. With the release of “Family Night” Tim has been off to the races. He has released several bestselling titles that are sure to turn your stomach.
In addition to writing, Tim is also trying his hand in acting. He has been cast in a TV pilot filmed throughout the summer of 2014.

You can follow Tim and his work via his website and on Twitter 

Below is an excerpt from his newest release: "Dead to Writes"

Marty McDougal is a wannabe horror writer with a terrible secret. From off the grid in Texas Hill Country, he publishes his first novel. Saddened to see the horrible and insulting reviews, he decides to take action. The unfortunate reviewers had no idea who they were dealing with. 

With the help of his deranged mom and homicidal brother, Marty sets out to create a whole new horror story at the expense of his critics. One by one the bizarre family takes out their anger on the group. In the process, one of their victims, April, learns something about herself no one thought possible. What ensues is a circus of bloody mayhem unlike anything seen before.
_______________

 “Look what you did to her! You busted her cooter!” Cletus yelled.
     The girl was still alive, but Marty had somehow ruptured her vagina with the ax handle. Now her vaginal area was bloody and swollen. Marty thought it looked like a big, red cauliflower.
     “It don’t matter. We don’t eat her lady parts,” Marty said.
     “Still. Ma’s not gonna be too happy. She know you been banging the meat out here?”
     “No. She don’t need to know. You ain’t gonna tell her.”
     “The hell I ain’t.” Cletus held up his GoPro and began filming the girl. She was barely conscious and whimpering as he walked around filming her. He knelt down to get a close up of her ruptured cooter.
     “You can’t put this in no movie,” Marty said. “It’ll be X-rated.”
     “This is for my personal collection. Come on, you gonna help? I need to get her ready for dinner tonight.”
     Marty walked over and helped as Cletus undid her restraints. They carried her over the table. Marty carried her legs while Cletus carried her under the arms. They heaved her onto the table which caused her to grunt. She began to stir as Cletus dug around for his tools, and turned around holding a hatchet.
     “Ok,” Cletus said. “You know the drill. Hold her down good.”
     “How come you always get to do the cutting?”
     “Cause I’m the oldest. Ma said it’s my job.”
     “She made that rule when we were twelve. I think I can do the cutting now.”
     “Bullshit. You’re not strong enough.”
     “Just because you’re a big fat ox doesn’t mean I’m weak. I can’t help it you grew so much bigger than me,” Marty argued.
     “I’m not fat. This is muscle.” Cletus said pinching a chunk of fat off his belly.
     “That is fat. That is greasy, gelatinous, artery hardening fat!”
     “Fuck you. You think you can cut? Fine, here.” Cletus tossed the hatchet across the table to Marty. The toss was too hard. Marty had to pull his hand away so as not to catch the thing by the blade.
     “Watch it!” he yelled.
     “Well, quit being a little bitch and get to cuttin’. I don’t mind anyway. I can get this on film. It’ll be funny as shit.”
     Marty awkwardly held the hatchet in his right hand. He took a few practice swings as if he were about to take tee ball batting practice for the first time. The girl began stirring on the table; she moaned as her eyes fluttered open. They went wide once she saw the hatchet as she began screaming and flailing.
     “Stop fuckin’ around and do it!” Cletus yelled, trying to hold her down with one hand, and leaning across her with his body while still filming.
     “Alright, alright,” Marty said as he grabbed a handful of her hair with the left hand. She let out another scream as he swung the hatchet, hitting her in the throat. The blade broke skin but only penetrated a little ways. Blood oozed from her neck as her screams turned to gagging and gurgling.
     “See?” Cletus called out. “You’re fucking it all up!”
     “Shut up. I ain’t done!” Marty said as he took another whack at her neck, this time cutting a little deeper. She twitched and flailed again as he took another whack, and then another. He hacked away at her neck fifteen times before her head fell away, rolling onto the floor.
     “See?” Marty said, wiping blood off his face.
     “Took ya long enough.”
     “I just need some practice is all. You been doing it for years.”
     “It ain’t rocket science Mr. Book Writer.”
     “Shut up. That why you all mad? Cause I have a published book and you still ain’t got no movie?”
     “Oh, I’ll have my movie. It will blow your goofy ass book away. Your book don’t even got no pitchers,” Cletus said.
     “Grown up books don’t have pitchers you dumbass.”
     “They do if they any good. Like naked girly pitchers.”
     “You got a naked girly right here,” Marty said.
     “She ain’t no fun. You done fucked her up before I could play with her. I get the next one.”
     “Whatever,” Marty said as he went to work, hacking up the girl’s limbs.
     It took a few hours for Marty to clean and skin the girl’s body. Cletus took most of her skin once they had the meat separated. He liked to tan the skin to make props for his movies and who knows what else with them. Marty skinned her head and cut the hair away and took it back to his room. They put the rest of the meat in their deep freezer except for what was needed for dinner. Usually one girl her size would be food for a couple weeks.
     Marty got to his room and placed the head in a large aquarium filled with maggots. The maggots would eat the remaining tissue away over the next few days. He sat and watched the little critters crawling all over the skull. He wondered how much meat each of them little buggers could eat at once. Then did they shit it out? Did they eat their own shit later? He’d have to look that stuff up.
     For now, he wanted to check on his sales. He opened his laptop and logged into his Crashbooks author page. The book had just gone live the day before and he spent the extra money to put it on some mailing lists. When he looked, he about squealed with glee as he saw he’d had three hundred downloads in just twenty four hours. From what he’d read, you’re lucky on a first book if you have twenty or thirty.
     He got up and danced around his room, almost knocking the maggot aquarium off its stand. He corrected it and sat back down. Clicking off the page, he clicked over to the book listing on Crashbooks and saw there were already five reviews. Yes! Though his excitement faded once he actually started reading the reviews.
     “Stupidest piece of crap I’ve ever read.”
     “Should be called Tunnel of Stupidity.”
     “The only thing scary here is the author’s lack of ability.”
     “This writer needs to go back to the third grade.”
     “M.C. McDougal, please kill yourself before torturing us with anymore crap!”
     And then there was his favorite:
     “I wish someone had killed M.C. McDougal’s mom a long time ago. Then we may have been spared this garbage.”
     He picked up the laptop and hurled it across the room. It busted into several pieces as he kicked over his chair and flipped his desk as he screamed.
     “Motherfuckers! Kill my ma! Kill myself! I’ll kill all of you cocksuckers!”
      His room door swung open as his Ma looked around.
     “What in the hell is going on boy?” she said.

     “It’s time for me to make some real horror.”

To read more of Tim's work or purchase a copy of "Dead to Writes" head over to Tim's website.