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haikyuu-scenarios-box · 5 years ago

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Haikyuu Horrors — Week 1 🔪

Wendigo — Kuroo Tetsurou x GenderNeutral!Reader

Next week: Demon — DemonKing!Oikawa Tooru x FallenAngel!Reader A/N: lowkey dedicating this to @kageyama-tho and @normiewrites bc i love their blogs and they said they love horror stories fuck me up im so excited to write next week’s scenario The setting is in the Ashio Copper Mine and I had to make a couple of changes for the sake of the story. Although the mine’s been abandoned since 1973, tours are still carried out to this day and it’s a popular tourist spot. I’ve diverged from that (and some of the geography) and made it so that the mine’s been closed completely since 1973, including the public. TW: character deaths, gore, blood, mentions of cannibalism and murder this is a wendigo scenario what did u expect Word count: 3,617

UNDER THE CUT

__________

January 9th, 2018. 12:47:32 AM Ashio, Nikko, Tochigi Prefecture The Kuroos Cabin

They both lived beneath a sky forsaken by the sun.

The threat of fractures haunted their bones, the undertones of their skin had been drained and exhaustion circled their eyes.

They both lived beneath a blinding white, their irises forever glazed.

Steam rose up from the latte that sat near the map of Nikko. [Y/n] had only taken a couple of sips of the coffee, finding the flavour disgustingly sugary. There was no element of surprise there, though - after all, it came from power in a packet. Superficial scratches ran along the desk, worn down from the never-ending notes and diagrams that [y/n]’s pens drew.

‘It’s almost one in the morning.’

‘Oh, Tetsurou,’ [y/n] approached Kuroo, wrapping their arms around his waist, ‘How come you’re up?’

‘I was asleep until I heard the kettle boiling,’ he chuckled, his fingers combing through their hair. Agony sank into Kuroo’s chest as several strands came out. He ensured that they ate three healthy meals a day, remained hydrated and spent time outdoors, but inadequate sleep takes a great toll on any body.

‘The coffee tasted awful, so it wasn’t even worth waking you up for,’ they said sheepishly, ‘sorry.’

When it came to [y/n]’s insistence on tagging along with Kuroo during his trips to Nikko, he possessed an immeasurable dislike. The steady decline in [y/n]’s health induced a sickening anxiety within him, causing numerous arguments that all led to his failure in persuasion. [Y/n] always prevailed, ending up with him in their expensive two-story cabin in Ashio, drinking that godawful packet coffee throughout the night.

Kuroo grabbed both of [y/n]’s hands, placing a kiss on each knuckle. ‘Come to bed,’ he coaxed, leading them out of the study.

‘I can’t,’ [y/n] pulled away, ‘I’ve got a new lead and I’ll lose my train of thought if I leave it for the morning.’

A long, dejected sigh left Kuroo’s lips. Their marriage of three years was fulfilling and filled with immense joy, there was not a speck of doubt about that fact. It was that obsession of theirs that caused concrete to pour into his lungs. For the entire year, it’d non-existent – it only emerged during those winter trips. It was almost a ritualistic occurrence that was triggered by lingering trauma.

‘It’s been six years, [y/n],’ he said with sorrow, immense grief overwhelming him.

‘And I’ll work on this case for another six if that’s needed,’ [y/n] returned to their desk, eyeing the blueprint taped to the wall above it. It was entirely taped with maps of nearby areas, newspaper clippings from 2012, head shots of the volleyball team they managed in high school - everything that they believed would assist them.

‘Look at this,’ [y/n] turned their laptop towards him, showing him a list of names on an excel spreadsheet.

‘Since when did you become so tech-savvy?’ Kuroo grinned slyly.

‘Firstly, excel isn’t tech-savvy,’ they scoffed, ‘Secondly, don’t change the topic,’ they demanded. ‘I made a list of everyone who disappeared from the area over the past six years.’

Kuroo leaned into the screen, his pupils drifting down the list.

‘And?’

[Y/n] pointed to the column titled “disappearance”, ‘Ever since the winter of 2014, the year they closed the investigation, a bunch of people would vanish within days of each other. All of them had no familial connections and barely any relationships, so there’s never been any pressure on the police to find them.’

Their lips pressed against the ceramic cup, taking a sip of their now-lukewarm coffee. ‘I’m glad neither of us have gotten snatched so far,’ they laughed nervously.

‘Probably because we’re not a socially inept,’ Kuroo chuckled, burying his face into the crook of their neck. He grabbed their shoulders tenderly, turning them around. ‘They’re dead, [y/n],’ Kuroo said with a soft voice. He placed his hands on their cheeks, the pad of his thumbs stroking their cheekbones. ‘They got lost during the snowstorm that day and died of hypothermia.’

‘No, they didn’t!’ they yanked his grip off them.

‘For fuck’s sake, [y/n]!’ Kuroo exploded, yelling in frustration, ‘The case was solved years ago! You’re losing sleep and ruining your health for nothing!’

‘You’re so full of shit!’ they fumed, ‘I know you don’t believe that because you were obsessed with this case too, remember?! But unlike you, I didn’t stop caring about what happened to our friends!’

‘I didn’t stop caring, I just moved on!’ Kuroo stepped towards into them, driving them to walk backwards until their back pressed against the wall. ‘Every year, you insistent on coming with me and I let you. I try so damn hard to make sure that you don’t return to your obsession, but you do it the moment I fall asleep.’

[Y/n] cowered under Kuroo’s intense gaze; his eyebrows knitted as air hissed between his teeth.

‘You’re never coming back here ever again,’ Kuroo walked away, prepared to slam the door shut, ‘we’re leaving in the morning.’

‘The mines, Tetsurou!’

The muscles within Kuroo’s shoulders suddenly relaxed, his posture slumping. ‘The Ashio Copper Mines that'd been abandoned since 1973...’ [y/n] began, ‘the police never even considered checking them.’

He finally looked at them, donning a smile riddled with misery.

‘Do... do you really want to know what happened?’

‘Of course I do! Don’t you dare tell me that you found out and kept it from me,’ [y/n] said with disgust.

‘If you were the one who found out first, I would’ve been furious if you didn’t keep it from me,’ Kuroo picked up their snow jackets from the clothes rack, 'let’s go.’

__________

‘How are we meant to get in? The adit’s sealed,’ [y/n] rubbed their gloved hands together furiously, vapour drifting out of their mouth.

‘Not fully,’ Kuroo walked over to the slabs of wood that covered the left edge of the adit. He placed a hand against them, his brain vividly recalling his first venture inside. The images pulsated within his eyes, almost liquefying them within their sockets.

Kuroo began to move the wood, each one sinking into the snow as he discarded them.

‘It’s a really small gap, but I think we’ll be able to squeeze through. Come,’ he ushered.

Although the glacial breeze no longer pricked into [y/n]’s exposed skin, the place somehow intensified their cold-induced numbness; as though fungus began to bloom from their pores. They believed that their unease was caused by the dark, but it continued to plague their muscles even after Kuroo flicked on the flashlight.

‘Hey, it’s alright,’ Kuroo put his arm around them, ‘there’s nothing threatening our wellbeing down here.’

‘Except for the rocks above us that may tumble down at any moment,’ [y/n] shuddered, ‘where exactly are we going? I-it’s still pretty dark.’

‘I want to show you what I found,’ Kuroo held them even closer, ‘Don’t worry, there’s no skeletons,’ he smirked.

‘This is not the time to joke around!’

A shriek erupted deep within the mines, the sudden spike in their blood pressure inducing a shiver into every vertebrae.

‘W-what on earth was that?’ [y/n] wheezed, breaking away from Kuroo. They frantically looked around, but their vision was limited to what the flashlight exposed. A droplet of water fell onto their scalp from the rusty beams above, causing them to gasp and jump backwards into Kuroo.

‘Calm down,’ he cooed, holding [y/n]’s hand. ‘It’s been abandoned for over a decade and everything’s breaking down. Odd noises aren’t unusual.’

[Y/n] nodded with a gulp, their saliva soothing their dry throat.

‘That elevator though’—Kuroo pointed the flashlight to his left, revealing a cage elevator—‘didn’t break down much. It worked fine the last time I was here.’

‘The last time?’ [y/n] scoffed playfully, ‘You’ve been going on spooky adventures without me?’ they asked sarcastically.

'Can’t comfort you every time you get startled,’ he snickered. He led them into the elevator and pulled the latch, the coils creaking as it took them upwards.

Their arm was tightly looping around his, horrified at the possibility that they’d get separated.

‘The wendigo’—Kuroo grunted as he slid open the cage-like door of the elevator—‘is a mythological creature that comes from Algonquian folklore.’

Logs of moldy wood were hammered into the walls over the rocks underneath, the spotlights mounted on them burnt out years ago. Several mine trolleys ran along the railway, ores of copper overflowing. The soles of Kuroo’s shoes created a crunch as he walked onto the pebbles covering the ground.

‘Tetsurou,’ they said with a stern voice, ‘when I said that this isn’t the time to joke around, I meant it.’

‘What, you’re not into Native American culture?’ Kuroo teased.

‘I’m not into you trying to scare me even more.’

‘[Y/n]…’ Kuroo placed his forehead against theirs, giving it a slow and gentle kiss, ‘... you have to trust that I’m telling you all this for a reason.’

[Y/n] held Kuroo’s hand in silent agreement, continuing to follow his lead.

‘The Algonquian people believe that when a human starves long enough, the wendigo spirit will begin to possess them, driving them to have thoughts of cannibalism.’

A screech almost entirely pierced through [y/n]’s eardrums, a high-pitched ringing flourishing within their ears. The hairs along their body pointed upwards as their lower lip quivered.

‘Humans who find themselves in such a situation usually succumb out of survival. But even then, they’re not excused from the sin they committed. Their fate to transform into a wendigo, a man-eating monster, is sealed. That is their punishment.’

Another screech, this time leading to the sensation of an ice pick digging within [y/n]’s ears.

‘What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck!’ [y/n] looked at Kuroo with fury and repulsion, ‘Y-you’re so damn casual about t-th-that story! And those sounds!’—they waved their hands around, attempting to come up with an appropriate description—‘Those a-aren’t things b-b-breaking down, o-or a person that could be here, b-because it’s so—’

Multiple shrieks, shaking and swirling within the aged walls.

‘Monstrous?’ Kuroo turned around to face them, the hazel of his eyes seemingly green. ‘Our friends were trapped in the mines for weeks, [y/n]. They were starving.’

‘I really don’t like that you’re implying that our friends ate each other. And I don’t like that you’re narrating some campfire story while doing so,’ [y/n] backed away from him, ‘we’re leaving. We’re leaving right now.’

Kuroo completely neglected their demand, immediately clasping his hand around their wrist and dragging them forwards.

‘Let go!’ [y/n] dug their heels into the ground, clawing at his fingers, ‘Dammit, Tetsurou, let go of me!’

They’d known him since their first years at Nekoma. Well over a decade had passed since then, yet there was never a single occasion where force was an element of Kuroo’s touch. As a matter of fact, the delicacy and tenderness of his touches were a sharp contrast to the roughness of his callouses - that was the kind of man [y/n] developed an intense love for. Not the man that was forcibly dragging them somewhere they didn’t wish to be.

‘A wendigo never dies from starvation and its hunger is insatiable... that’s the whole point of the curse,’ Kuroo dismissed their pleas. He finally stopped in front of a row of small wooden planks, propped into a muddy patch of soil. ‘But when I found them during that winter in 2014, I made a vow to keep them well-fed. That list of missing persons you showed me? That was the menu.’

‘You fucking kidnapped people and threw them in here?!’ the next shriek led a burst within [y/n]’s ear canal to suddenly erupt, their own scream merging with the animalistic ones echoing within the mines. [Y/n] pressed their hands firmly against their ears, palms warm with the blood that slowly poured out.

‘I killed them beforehand so they wouldn’t suffer.’

Their face was raw from the negative temperature of the night, their tears scorching it as they trailed down. Kuroo wrapped [y/n] within his arms, holding them tightly into his chest. It did not induce the slightest amount of comfort, though. Kuroo’s embrace was foreign, alarming and unspeakably nauseating.

The white paint on the wooden sticks was almost entirely chipped away, age having worn them down. [Y/n] kneeled in front of them when they caught glance of the letters scratched into them, blinking rapidly to lessen the clouding of their vision.

Inuoka. Kai. Shibayama. Taketora.

A cassette of the team devouring the intestines of those four played inside [y/n]’s mind, as though their body was taunting them. Bile rose up their stomach, burning the delicate membranes of their throat and mouth as they spat it out.

‘W-who the fuck even are you?!’ they aggressively pushed Kuroo away, ‘You’re not the man I married! I d-didn’t marry a fucking murderer!’

‘You’d rather they starve again?’ he asked in disbelief.

‘You just said that those things don’t die from starvation!’

The next screech prompted Kuroo to stand up and face away from them, appearing to be waiting for something. ‘It’s not fair that we’re alive and happy, [y/n]. We both have to die just as horribly,’ he said in an uncharacteristically calm manner. If [y/n] hadn’t known any better, they would have believed that he was a deaf man that was completely unaware of the monstrous wails. ‘That is the punishment for our sin.’

‘What fucking sin? There’s no sin! Please, Tetsurou, this is all just survivor’s guilt—’

The muscles of their tongue tensed at the sight. The creature was no shorter than twelve feet, its legs thrice the length of its arms. Its pale, wrinkled and sickly grey skin was tightly taut against its bones due to severe emaciation; its abnormal skeleton on the verge of breaking through. No hair was to be found on its body - only frost.

Its claws, the size of battle swords, sunk themselves into Kuroo’s head with ease; as though it were a needle gliding through a pin cushion. It placed its gaunt, sunken face in front of Kuroo’s, releasing a high-pitched scream that throbbed within [y/n]’s damaged ears. The short strings of decayed tendons that hung from shank-like teeth flew away from its mouth, some dropping to the ground.

[Y/n]’s pupils drifted towards the rocky ceiling of the mine, spotting several more wendigos screaming in hunger. The sound of flesh tearing caught their attention, leading them to look at Kuroo once more.

The wendigo pulled his head upwards. [Y/n] watched every vein within his neck tear until his head was completely severed from his torso, splashes of ruby painting their face and dyeing their clothes. The vocal cords within their larynx were paralysed - even though the scent of rotten mince from their husband’s blood clung onto the hairs within their nostril, [y/n] found themselves incapable of making a single sound. Kuroo wasn’t capable of doing so either while he was ripped apart, the blood filling his upper body making him gurgle instead of scream.

What distressed them even further was the wendigo’s sunken eyes. Its murky, faded golden eyes.

‘... Kenma?’

The wendigos that lunged in [y/n]’s direction immediately snapped them out of their shock, prompting them to grab the flashlight. Sheer horror powered their legs to run to the elevator nearby; they possessed no desire to turn around and see how many there were exactly, especially when considering that that would slow their movements.

Splinters and cuts embedded themselves into [y/n]’s fingers as they pushed large barrels, tumbled trolleys, rocks — anything and everything — in the wendigos’ way while they ran. Under normal circumstances, [y/n]’s strength to do such things would have been non-existent, but their heart beat fast enough for adrenaline to seep into every cell. Fear was a fuel to pushing the body well beyond its limits.

Although [y/n] was relying on the unstable light they wavered around, the elevator began to enter their view. They extended their right hand out, prepared to close the metal door once they got in. Their brain was floating, their vision was hazing and their organs were collapsing.

The unanticipated piercing of large, pointed teeth into [y/n]’s shoulder was what led them to finally scream. The wendigo was a creature of the winter, yet its bite was agonisingly hot. They could fully feel its humerus, rib cage, vertebrae — its entire skeleton — pressed against them while it lifted them off the ground.

The wendigo was then suddenly ripped away from [y/n], Kenma — or rather, what used to be Kenma — having jumped at it. The pull tore several of [y/n]’s tendons, their nails digging into their shoulder to ease the throbbing sting.

With that singular brush of a four-leaf clover, [y/n] made it to the elevator at last. They found no time to apply pressure to their wound, dropping the flashlight and slamming the door shut. One of the wendigos gnawed at the bars, leading [y/n] to pull the latch frantically. It was significantly taller than the others - around fifteen feet. If it weren’t for its door, it would have easily grabbed [y/n]’s head and crushed it, giving them an end identical to Kuroo’s.

[Y/n]’s head spun with a ruthless migraine, anxiety deepening while the wendigo refused to let go of its grip on the elevator while it ascended. They were unsure if it was their sole aim of escaping, or the trauma they’d gained from watching their husband’s severed head rolling towards them, but an intense rage engulfed them. They began to relentlessly and repeatedly slam the soles of their shoes against the wendigo’s claws.

It screeched with a fury and pain, eventually letting go. When the elevator reached a halt, [y/n] realised that the adit was now close.

[Y/n]’s brain began to shut down as they continued to run, following the white emitting from the small gap they entered from. The howls of those wendigos — their friends — reached a crescendo, blending into a singular note. They wondered how frequently they must have screamed as humans, desperate to suppress their hunger and restrain the wendigo spirit. Their survival relied on renouncing their humanity completely. Yaku, Fukunaga, Teshiro, Lev - they all succumbed, feasting upon the flesh of their teammates. All [y/n] could do was hope that they weren’t devoured alive.

The truth of Kuroo’s last words regarding them tormented [y/n] - “they’re not excused from the sin they committed. Their fate to transform into a wendigo, a man-eating monster, is sealed. That is their punishment.”

When [y/n] finally squeezed themselves through the gap, they immediately barricaded it with the discarded planks of wood and nearby rocks. Their skin was encased with a filthy, blackened sheen of melted ice. It was a disgusting contrast to Kuroo’s blood on them; jelly-like, thick and sticky. Their own blood, on the other hand, warmed their bruised, sweaty body while it gushed out of their shoulder. It all made [y/n] reek of rust and mold.

A loud, poignant wail left their cracked, bleeding lips, collapsing on all-fours as they sunk into the snow. Crimson and mahogany wept into the ground, tainting the white that stung their knees and palms. [Y/n]’s nostrils narrowed with mucous, dripping into their mouth and leaving a salty taste against their tongue. Tears tickled the tip of their nose as they fell and melted their way through the snow, the proof of their grief vanishing as quickly as it was born.

For a moment, they wondered if they’d sinned too.

__________

December 26th, 2018. 04:38:05 PM Ashio, Nikko, Tochigi Prefecture Ashio Copper Mine

Years’ worth of wendigo-related research and observations, all hidden away in the cut outs Kuroo made within complex chemistry textbooks.

[Y/n] quietly chuckled to themselves as they dragged the ice sled up the short mountain, amused by their past naivety. Those hollowed books all rested on the large bookshelf in the living room, yet they never bothered to even read the titles. Not until after Kuroo was decapitated, that is.

One of Kuroo’s hidden possessions included a comprehensive map of the Ashio region. When [y/n] sat down and analysed it the first time they found it, their loneliness for him surged. They were encouraged by others to return to the dating scene once they’d recovered, but they knew they’d never do so. [Y/n] wasn’t lonely for company - they were lonely for Kuroo.

Having reached the large hole situated above the Ashio Copper Mine, [y/n] kneeled beside the ice sled. In one of Kuroo’s diaries, he specified the only way he keep them well fed. There was a hole situated above the mountain housing the mine, deep enough to guarantee that no wendigo could climb up and emerge. That was where he dropped the bodies.

Several items were strapped onto the sled - a snowboard, a helmet and a thermally insulated box. However, they were mere props. They proved to be highly effective tools of disguise, attracting no suspicion whatsoever while they made their way from the town to the isolated mines. Those who passed by [y/n] never viewed the duffle bag as an object of interest. What menacing thing could there be in the bag of an individual clad in snowboard attire? Goggles? An extra pair of gloves? Bindings?

How extraordinarily slim was the probability that a corpse would be present?

Unzipping the duffle bag, [y/n] eyed the bloodied dent within the man’s temple. Kuroo specified that some Algonquians believed that the human remained trapped within the wendigo’s icy heart, but [y/n]’s always rejected that theory. The wendigo that was once Kenma tore its childhood friend in half, then proceeded to guzzle down his muscles and slurp on his pulsating arteries.

There was no human in there.

But [y/n] finally understood the sin Kuroo referred to - it was the sin of escaping the ghastly demise their friends met. For committing that, they were rewarded with an equally violent death, or the punishment of ensuring that the wendigos remained fed when they awoke from hibernation every winter.

Some may say that that was not the case. That [y/n]’s statement that there was no sin — only survivor’s guilt — was correct. It was far too late for [y/n] to speculate on such matters, though.

[Y/n] huffed as they dragged the body out and rolled it into the hole. Numerous revolting crunches echoed while its skeleton shattered, limbs at grotesque angles due to the obliteration of its joints.

When screeches bounced against the walls of the mines, they realised that they lived beneath a sky forsaken by the sun.

Fractures began to settle within their bones, their complexion had been drained and exhaustion cursed their eyes with an itchy dryness.

They realised that they lived beneath a blinding white, their irises forever glazed.

#it's 2 in the goddamn morning ya'll better give me feedback on this :^((#haikyuu horrors #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #scenario #writing #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #haikyuu fandom #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: murder #tw: cannibalism #tw: character death #gender neutral reader

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tanmath3-blog · 8 years ago

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My next victim is Brian Minekime. He is a great guy and really is passionate about his writing, art and life in general. He is always glad to help a fellow writer or a friend in need. Being supportive comes easy for him and he is always very genuine. That is a trait I have always admired about him. Having had several opportunities to beta read for him is always fun and always a great story. He has a lot of talent and you really want to read his stories! They have never disappointed me. He has a wonderfully creative mind. Recently he painted some gourds and they are beautiful. He is a man of many talents! The quote that follows is one of my favorites that an author has shared. Please help me welcome Brian Minekime to Roadie Notes…….

I think the most important thing I can say about myself is that I work my butt off-putting my heart and soul into my writing or my art when I’m doing that. I don’t do it for fame or fortune and continuing has come at great personal sacrifice along the way. Some days I think I should just call it quits and get a “normal” job, basically give up, then a new idea renews the creative spark and I can’t imagine doing anything else. I only hope that anyone out there reading this enjoys my work. I promise I’ll keep writing it as long as you keep reading it!!

1. How old were you when you first wrote your first story?

I got a late start. When I was young I didn’t have the patience or focus to be able to write though I tried. I don’t count anything until around ’07 or ’08 when I was 35-ish I began writing a few stories. I didn’t get serious about it until 2012 when I decided I was either going to try to fail or create something worthwhile… I’ve been writing practically non-stop since.

2. How many books have you written?

I honestly haven’t kept count but I’d guess I’ve written at least 40 to 50 short stories, flash fiction, novellas and one novel (not yet published). My short story “Hell Awaits” was my first published story in Kill For A Copy from Dark Chapter Press. Then a flash fiction piece (1000 word story), Tamed Brute, was published in the eBook Flashes of Darkness: Halloween Special 2015 and lastly my short story, “The Bones of Baby Dolls”, was published in KIDS: Volume I from Dark Chapter Press. Most of what I’ve written are short stories and novellas but I do have my first novel written (which won the Dark Chapter Press 2016 Prize – a novel-writing contest), another novel approximately half done but another is bursting to come out so I’ll be starting on that very soon probably in the next couple of weeks. I have it plotted out as much as I ever do which isn’t much so getting it started is the next step but I have some other things to clear off my plate first.

3. Anything you won’t write about?

I don’t really find anything is off-limits depending on the setting though I can’t see myself writing about pedophilia from the predator’s point of view. My novelette Harvester of Sorrow (available FREE!) is about an abused altar boy getting his brutal revenge and the first short story, The Demon’s Name Is Surveillance, I ever posted on my website is about a child molester/murder being punished in hell but neither glorifies the molester, quite the opposite. That’s one of the things I love about horror is that there are no real taboos. My job as a horror writer is to take a reader where he/she wouldn’t go otherwise but for me there are shoes I don’t want to walk the proverbial mile in. When I write a character I am that character experiencing what they experience so rape and molestation are things I stay away from for the most part but again it all depends on context.

4. Tell me about you. Age (if you don’t mind answering), married, kids, do you have another job etc...

To me age is just a number, I’m 44 but it’s only what you make of it. I really don’t think of it much unless it’s my birthday. I’m single now and in kind of “it’s complicated” relationship. I have a 22-year-old son who most mistake for my little brother when we’re out together. I did a fine job of turning him into a comic, horror and metal lover who also dabbles in some writing and music so I hope he finds his own success with his art. Creating has become the all-consuming beast in my life whether I’m writing or creating art. I started my website in 2014 (originally with a partner) to have an outlet for my writing which was getting rejected all over the place then it blossomed to also doing movie reviews and metal album reviews as well as some other fun stuff. I’ve slowed it down this year to concentrate more on my writing career.

5. What’s your favorite book you have written?

I’m all about whatever I’m working on currently. I like to think I improve with each new story though admittedly some can be duds, it happens. Ironically I’m currently re-editing the first real story I wrote back in 2012 which ended up as a novella at just under novel length with about 35k words. I had proofed and edited this story a couple of times but it’s amazing how much I’ve learned about writing and editing since then making for a much slower process than I originally anticipated. With any luck folks will get to read it soon though I can’t reveal the title because I plan on changing it but the working title is “Impending Doom.” It’s about a banker who wakes to his worst nightmare which only gets worse as it goes along with a few twists along the way. It might be important to note that I worked in the financial sector for about 15 years so the inspiration is a little obvious perhaps.

6. Who or what inspired you to write?

I could give you a laundry list of writers I admire but they weren’t the spark that got me in front of the keyboard. I was an avid reader for years devouring books but often finishing a book thinking “I could do better than that” and after a long run of books I read that I literally hated the ending of I decided it was time to put up or shut up. It took me about a week of thinking what I wanted to do then I sat down and began. I haven’t looked back since. So to answer the question, what inspired me to write were bad, uninspired and predictable stories. I didn’t start writing with delusions of grandeur but rather just to see if I could. People seem to like it so I think I’ll keep at it.

7. What do you like to do for fun?

Drink beer, watch hockey or UFC and eat chicken wings – real wings can only be found in Western New York! I also love watching movies especially horror obviously. Also if you can keep a secret *peeks around to make sure no one’s eavesdropping* when I’m completely alone I like to crank up some metal, head bang and sing along (generally poorly). Shhh, that’ll be our little secret.

8. Any traditions you do when you finish a book?

I do but nothing anyone would probably even notice. I almost always finish with a flurry generally after an extraordinarily long writing session. I get excited when the end is within sight so 12-24 hour writing sessions are pretty much the norm when I’m near the end. Once I finish I lean back put my hands behind my head and try to take a deep breath, kind of basking in the accomplishment. In a sense patting myself on the back then I usually crawl into bed and pass out from exhaustion. Not much of a tradition but a tradition nonetheless.

9. Where do you write? Quite or music?

I write almost exclusively at my desk but occasionally I’ll sit in my TV chair which is more comfortable if I’m going to be writing for several hours. As for music, well, I couldn’t write without it. I have different playlists depending on what I’m writing but generally I listen to doom metal almost exclusively. Doom is very powerful, emotional music which helps put my mind in the right space to write. If I’m writing some action I might play some Slayer or something fast but it’s usually brief. A couple of albums I always listen to for a story of any real length are Kongh – Sole Creation, Pallbearer – Sorrow & Extinction and my personal favorite YOB’s Clearing The Path To Ascend. Music has gotten me through the worst times in my life so every tale I write shares a title with the music that inspired the idea. It’s my way of paying respect to something that has given me so much through my life. The only rule I have in that regard is that my story and the song must have different subject matter which is generally not any problem.

10. Anything you would change about your writing?

I don’t think I’d necessarily change anything but I do strive to take what I’ve learned to make the next one better. I make fewer typo mistakes than when I started which makes proofreading quicker and I’ve edited enough of my own work and others to recognize subtle errors I used to miss like redundancy. The only major thing I’d like to add, not necessarily change, is more complexity. I believe in working your way up to things and what I’m building toward is an epic trilogy that’s been rolling around in my head for years. I don’t think I’m a good enough writer to pull it off yet but I’m getting there.

11. What is your dream? Famous writer?

I have no dreams about being rich and famous, if it happens it isn’t something I have much control over. My dreams are far more humble. I’d like a nice comfortable life that I can enjoy. No longer worrying about where I’ll live tomorrow or what I might have to eat. I’m a simple man with no extravagant taste. A small house with a small yard, a couple of dogs & cats and Satan willing even a good woman by my side. That’s all I really want, a nice quiet life and to continue writing until the day I die.

12. Where do you live?

Right now I live in the middle of nowhere in the country about one hour south of Buffalo, NY just above the Pennsylvania state line. It’s nice and quiet here but who knows where I’ll be tomorrow.

13. Pets?

Currently I’ve been adopted by a 13-year-old cat named Corky though he responds better to Boobers, don’t ask me why bc I don’t know. He enjoys disrupting my writing process by trying to lay on my lap while I sit at my desk that’s when he isn’t outside trying (but failing) to catch chipmunks.

14. What’s your favorite thing about writing?

The rush I get when I get a killer idea or when I’m on a roll and my fingers can’t keep up with the story. Athletes call it being “in the zone” but for a writer it’s when you breeze through a few thousand words in just an hour or two. I’ve spent days “in the zone” and I’ve spent weeks or even months waiting to be. Much like a surfer you just have to ride the wave as far as it’ll take you then paddle your ass off to catch the next one.

15. What is coming next for you?

I really wish I knew but I do have tons I’m waiting for an answer on. First off, I’m one of 14 finalists competing in “The Next Great Horror Writer Contest” through HorrorAddicts. The grand prize is a book contract with Crystal Lake Publishing! The contest involves numerous writing challenges until the winner is announced in October. You can keep up with my progress simply by listening to their podcast. Then my (not so) short story “Cold Heart, Cold Soul” has been accepted by Stitched Smile Publications for a Seven Deadly Sins anthology with a tentative release set for late this year, sometime between October and December if all goes well. Stitched Smile also posted a short story I wrote for fun, Smoke & Stone, just a few days ago if you want to read the last thing I wrote. It was completely written in one day so don’t judge it too harshly. Aside from that I currently have six short stories and novellas pending approval with various publishers. My goal for this year was to submit, submit and submit some more so to that end I have a list of over a dozen anthos I plan on submitting work for as well as the novella I’m re-editing currently and the novel itching to get out of my head. It should be an exciting year for me so all I can really say is “like” my Facebook page where I post updates as I receive them. I should hear about some soon but you never really know in this business. All I can guarantee is that I’ll be pumping out the horror this year including some fun ones like a Mrs. Claus anthology! I’ll be posting updates as often as possible on my website, Thy Demons Be Scribblin, where you can also find a ton of short stories I’ve posted over the last couple of years.

Feind on the web:

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B01AH12BVM?ref_=pe_584750_33951330 Website: http://www.thydemonsbescribblin.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/FeindGotteshorrorwriter/ Twitter: @FiendGottes Tumblr: Feind Gottes

Some of Brian Minekime’s books:

Getting personal with Brian Minekime My next victim is Brian Minekime. He is a great guy and really is passionate about his writing, art and life in general.

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