Archive for December, 2013


Posted: December 28, 2013 in Uncategorized





 plebs teaser

Corey Somerset, Tim Hayworth and Lee Hunter have had one hell of a good night.
And it isn’t over yet.
Celebrating their friend’s birthday with drunken debauchery and intoxicated antics, they’ve just stumbled through a mini-wave of mindless vandalism, and though they’ve wandered far out of the realms of civilization, they are keen to keep the party vibe going.
When they encounter a band of mysterious fugitive women who call a bizarre encampment deep in the woods their residence, it appears a strong likelihood that continuing the party is on the cards.
But it won’t come without a price.

The collective of unnerving lawless women are open to the suggestion, but not without the threesome completing a request first, a seemingly straight forward barter proposition that will bring the boys face to face with something else that dwells in an unorthodox co-existence with the girls in the wilderness.
These are the Plebs, and the shocking violent encounter the trio are unwittingly pitched into with these freakish feral fiends may be their first, but it won’t be the last.
As the shiftless young men become inextricably entwined and involved with the agenda driven dangerous women, so too do their fates, with them unravelling killer secrets, duplicity, bloodshed and brutality along the way, that encompasses not just them but more of their friends, new enemies and old enemies.

A simple night of bad decisions escalates and snowballs into an expedition of terror spanning all the way home and beyond, with Corey and his friends engulfed in a nightmare where the lines between man and monster blur.
Depravity, death and destruction reign supreme and it isn’t just the Plebs that want them all torn limb from limb.



As I said a little time ago I would post an unedited bit of the other novel I’m currently working on (simultaneous with the Carnival/Festival) so here it goes. Like my novel Plebs, this too was meant to be a short story, in fact part of a collection of short stories I planned to write, horror tales revolving around extreme metal genre clashes. Instead it is going to be spanned out into a full length book, my first foray into the universe of zombies, with a prevalence of death and black metal involvement, which keeps that initial metal genre thing intact.
I may or may not persist with the original anthology idea but I have some other ideas for anthologies buzzing around my head at the moment, so I think I will try and complete these two full lengths first before deviating off track into any more shorts just yet.

Check it out. An unedited excerpt from Undead Fleshcrave: The Zombie Trigger

With the locked door barrier to their escape succumbing to the combined force of the Subversion trio, and crashing open, Seth Tanner, his friends and the group who’d come unexpectedly to their rescue inside the walls of the ill-fated Undead Fleshcrave show, all poured out the egress.
They found they were in an alley, a towering wall looming up before them, the side of a skyscraper building easily triple the height of the venue they had just absconded from.
At this time in the evening it was dark and threatening in the alley, but scant light from the opened exit route in the Quo Vadis building afforded them a little illumination.
The alley smelled worse than the public restroom hall, mixed more pungently with odours of the rubbish and litter that was scattered profusely through it.
Garbage bins lined the bordering walls, yellowing newspapers, empty drink cans, condom wrappers, beer bottles, ripped posters, food containers and all manner of junk lay in random patterns of mess all over the alley.
Further up, beyond the rows of dented refuse units were other dark, hunched unidentifiable shapes, things that lay beyond the span of light, and looked ominous in their shadowy forms.
To their left, the mouth of the alley poured some radiance in courtesy of the streetlights on out there, but to the right, up past those hulking dark shadowshapes there was very little light showing.
Going left into the more illuminated areas might have seemed like a wise choice, but it also meant they would be angling back out in front of the venue.
It was more than a slim possibility that the bunch of security had split into two separate factions with one of these heading out the front doors to cut off any escape via this very alley.
So blundering into the dark through the cluster of shadows crowding the alley loomed as a larger chance of bona fide escape.
Seth wasn’t overjoyed about that prospect.
On any other evening following a gig at this very venue, or merely after just having a couple of drinks here with the guys, and he would have had no qualms about cutting through the alley, down past the back of the bar and out if their destination so called for that avenue of travel but that was before.
Before one terrifying stomach churning evil laden song filled with nausea inducing bizarre instrumentation and a mantra of brain mangling lyrics had mutated ordinary death metal fans into voracious flesh desiring undead hordes.
Before the security that should have been standing vigilantly over the event, instead let it all unfold in a vortex of bloodsplattering horror, turned into disciples of the unholy band responsible for this cataclysm and chased survivors, intent on ensuring there was no escape for them.
Before Lincoln had his dick bitten off and his guts ripped out by a bloated hungry zombie bitch in a very appropriate Waking The Cadaver top.
Before the big strong man of their gang Buck, his sister Adrianna and Callie went AWOL amidst the sea of carnage.
Now absolutely everything and everywhere was malevolent, sinister and buzzing with potential menace.
And everyone too…
As the lot of them spilled into the alley, some looking to go left in the obvious direction, others gazing into the murk of the alley the other way, Dax lurched on down into the shadows.
The quartet of women headed up to halt the progress of Mark and Miranda, both who had instantly assumed racing out into the light on the street in front of the bar was the option.
Dax had already made the choice which was obviously the right one Black and his cronies were intending for them to make, but as he did, one of the lumpy shapes against the giant building complex neighbouring the bar suddenly broke from it’s companion shadows.
A hunched disheveled figure staggered into his path and outstretched hands reached.
On instinct, a panicked yell was ripped from the throat of Dax, and he struck out with a vengeance, hammering with his spiked armbands, punching their wicked points at the lurching perceived aggressor.
A highpitched squeal, unlike the horrible guttural throaty sounds the bestial undead freaks had been making in the performance room of death issued, but in his fright and surging adrenalin fuelled hysteria, Dax didn’t make that connection.
All he saw was a shambling zombie monster emerging from a thick patch of darkness, with murderous designs on gnawing off his genitals, dining on his brains, scooping out his entrails with hooked claw fingers and he attacked with a furious energy.

©2013 Jamie Goforth

Advertise And Introduce Yourself

Posted: December 22, 2013 in Uncategorized

This is an unedited excerpt of one of the two novels I’m currently working on, one which is tentatively titled Carnival of Chaos/Festival of the Flesh (working title only at the moment). It will be, or it is intended to be, a full length in two parts-the Carnival, and the Festival-approximately thirty chapters a part.

He was in a tiny cloistered space, completely dark, maybe three feet by three feet. He couldn’t tell if there was a ceiling in the place, reaching up to find one located nothing and if there was anything above, it was a whole lot higher than his hands could stretch.
Silence surrounded him, along with this utter darkness and it was disquieting, eerie and haunting to hear absolutely nothing.
He ran his hands along the walls but there was nothing to feel but smooth flat planes, slightly cool to the touch.
Abruptly one of these walls enclosing him fell right away, and all of a sudden the total quiescence was being shattered by a cacophony of noise rushing in.
The darkness inside was obliterated by a raft of illumination, lights, bright colours, so brilliant and dazzling that they hurt his eyes.
When his eyes had a second to adjust he saw the colours and lights stemmed from Carnival rides, attractions, flares of neon signs and the like; reds, oranges, blues, yellows.
A giant Tilt A Whirl car swept past in front of him, apparently connected to nothing, moving around in erratic circles, kicking up showers of sparks.
In it was Mister E, his greasy face shining under the glow of a mass of lights, his grin a savage shark-like expression.
“Welcome to the Hunt, Jason!” He boomed into a megaphone, the voice resonating horrendously around the arena. “This is where it begins for you!”
Jason turned around and around, eyes trying to take in everything around him.
The dark enclosure he’d stepped out of had inexplicably vanished, instead he was surrounded by towering fences, spiked, tipped with pale skulls, shrunken heads, all screaming at him.
Powerful figures moved all around him in a swirling mist, made multi-coloured by the myriad lights from twisted incarnations of the Carnival rides, giant slides with jagged blades and sharp points protruding from them, Dodgem Cars in the shapes of hunched goblin monsters, slowly revolving Ferris Wheels with dead passengers.
Other faster crazy careening rides spun wildly out of control and from their carriages flew body segments, a bloody rain of severed hands, feet, sex organs, internal organs.
These human-like shapes milling around him wore an assortment of coverings over their faces; gimp masks, gas masks, executioner hoods, balaclavas, animal masks, fright wigs, demonic featured things.
They wielded a plethora of weapons in massive clenched fists; daggers, swords, sledgehammers, axes, hatchets, some of these ferocious implements looking as ancient as time itself but vicious and lethal nonetheless.
Jason ran.
He found himself hurtling down a passageway, or was it a tunnel?
Either way, it was made of chainlink meshed material, and outside, scores and scores of snarling barking dogs gnashed their teeth, lunged at him through the barrier, flung themselves bodily at him.
He heard feet pounding on the floor behind him, gaining. He knew it was the masked hordes on the chase. The Hunt.
With him the Hunted.
Ahead in the distance, he saw a great black trailer ablaze, orange flames and dark choking clouds of smoke pouring from it.
For some reason he figured that must be his destination. Would getting there end the Hunt? Was there any end to the Hunt?
There must be, for by the time he actually made it to the trailer he was in the Splatterhouse; walls dripping red blood, organs sticking to them as if they had been flung forcibly against them.
Hands snatched at him, tried to trip him up, tried to grab his clothes and hair; disembodied extremities falling off the walls with fingers curling around his ankles.
His progress was stunted by this, it felt worse than when he was being pursued by the masked chasers in the narrow tunnel bordered by canine fiends as he seemed to be getting nowhere.
Every step he took shook the Splatterhouse walls and cascaded more blood down them, shook more mutilated flesh off them to fall upon him.
A tangle of entrails dropped in ghastly ropes around his neck, an eyeball bounced off his cranium.
Rolled along the plane of the floor, splashing into a puddle of congealing blood, staring at him.
The masked Hunters came right through the walls. They ripped through them with their blades, sliced great holes and jagged rends in them as if they were actually composed of flesh, forcing their bodies through their created apertures, looking like mutated creatures in the midst of a gruesome birth.
Some of them swung trophies in one hand, their weapons in another.
Jason realised he wasn’t, or hadn’t been the only one in the Hunt.
Those others who’d fallen prey to the Hunters in the nightmarish Carnival grounds had their dismembered heads slung by the hair, their torn throats spraying fresh blood as their killers tore through the walls of the Splatterhouse.
He saw faces he thought he knew, others he didn’t recognise among these gory prizes.
He thought he saw Ben, Emily, maybe Gerald and Rollo, others, eyes still frozen and fixed with the terror, or the surprised moment a cleaving blade detached their skull from their body.
One of his masked tormentors loomed through a wall, tearing fissures in it and gouting renewed torrents of blood from it.
The man-or beast-wore Stix’s face. It wasn’t Stix, it was literally his face, ripped from him and plastered on in the fashion of a rudimentary mask.
The Hunter swung only a weapon, a glass bottle with a busted neck of sharp teeth so one hand was free.
This hand reached up and wrenched the bloodied skinmask away, flinging it at Jason. It missed him but showered him in droplets of claret as it flew past his ear and splattered against the wall, impossibly still looking at him with the eyes of Stix still intact in it.
The former wearer of the clowns face was the drunken barstool resident of the Lonely Bull tavern, his teeth bared in a hideous grin.
“The hunting season, the fucking season! It’s coming on,” he declared as he lurched nearer. “It’s coming on!”
Then Jason was back in the dark, but with a light radiating somewhere in the distance.
He stumbled his way towards it, feeling like he was wading through kneedeep treacle.
The light came from a big circular wheel, like some ridiculous game show accessory and strapped to it by hands, feet and throat was Blades.
Lodged in it and around him were knives hurled by unseen assailants, some in fact in him already, pinning him like darts stuck in a human dartboard.
Rivulets of blood tickled from his mouth, from his other penetrated parts and some of the handles of the weapons were shaking and quivering with the force of impact as if they’d just been thrown.
As Jason neared, and once again the dark enveloping him fell away to be replaced with agonizing bursts of colours, pinwheel sparks and inane carousel music, shouting, gleeful mocking laughter, a knife whistled through the air and seared Blades right through the throat.
His eyes and tongue bulged out as a welter of blood erupted.
It drenched Jason and he saw that the person who’d thrown it was the dark haired policeman from the coffee shop, the bristling ends of his dark moustache dribbling with red blood.
“Jesus son, what’s the rush? Got a hot date with the barber? What’s the rush? The hunting season, the fucking season, its coming on. Its coming on!”
Mister E appeared alongside him, dressed up like a ringmaster, eyes glinting with unearthly menace, his pencil moustache a black slash above his lips.
He held Loco’s severed head impaled on a human spine-or maybe that was his own spine, ripped out as if by Predator, still attached to the vertebrae in his neck-and Chippy’s in the other.
He banged their faces together like a toy monkey clapping cymbals.
“It’s the Festival of the Flesh!” He announced maniacally, spilling a flood of high pitched ear puncturing laughter.
Jason saw he was in an area ablaze with gaudy colour and light, a sideshow alley filled with carousels and merry go rounds, made up not of bright horses, circus animals or fun vehicles but instead, twisted dragons, gargoyles, impossible nightmare beasts, skeletons, oozing sluglike things and others that just seemed to be big hunks of raw flesh, dripping blood down the colourful sides of the carousel base.
Demonic faced clowns with sharp crooked teeth, acrobats tying themselves into impossible knots and breaking bones in the process, more masked beings and other oddities swelled around, tossing segmented sections of human meat to and at one another, some chewing upon it, sending blood coursing down chins.
They parted as Mister E approached, banging his Loco and Chippy faces against one another, further cracking their skulls and damaging their features more, fountaining crimson geysers from them.
“The Festival of the Flesh!” Mister E declared through a megaphone which he somehow had strapped to his face, making him look like a deformed elephant in a top hat. “We’ve got positions for the beauties, lots of positions for those fine pieces of flesh, and Blood Games for the rest. The Festival of the Flesh!”


I’ve been pretty inactive here, on Facebook and Twitter recently due to the fact that I have just relocated from the city to the country, and have had no proper internet access until today.

This means I can now start getting myself visible once more, keeping things updated and posting more news about the upcoming Plebs, along with other things I’m working on.

Where I’m currently at with Plebs is edits and that is moving along very rapidly, I’m half way through what is a sixty plus chapter novel after a couple of days of doing this (fitting in the time when I am able to, along with organising the new house, and chasing my mischievous little kids around), though I’m keen to get it done as soon as possible to get the ball rolling on this monster.

In the overall scheme of things I’m pretty damn happy with how the manuscript came back from the publishers and editor Mark, considering I submitted the book as a very first draft with zero changes to the story from its first write. Being a bit too sparse with comma’s is my main problem, other than that I only need to revise a couple of sentences and trim a couple of scenes.

Nothing in the entire story has been changed or altered in any way, and this is fantastic. I’m extremely excited to get this out there so I’m making the Plebs edits my number one priority in terms of writing at the moment.

This means the other two novels I am currently working on (Undead Fleshcrave and Carnival of Chaos/Festival of the Flesh) will temporarily go on the backburner but at the rate I’m going through edits (and the relatively small amount required to do) I will be right back into these two very shortly.

I also plan to touch up another completed manuscript In The Darkest Hour and consider getting things moving on having it published as well.

Hopefully I don’t get sidetracked by another more surfeit of ideas and get drawn into writing another full length 😉