Peek into The Wicked Ones.

You’ve returned? I assumed your last encounter with this blog would have been too mentally damaging for further review. You see, I weave these words with sacred geometry, and on occasion, the pattern that your eyes trail could open a summoning force for something wicked to gain entry into our world.

So be careful as you read! No crazy eye dancing, okay?

Here’s a preview of my newest book coming February 13th, The Wicked Ones: Children of the Lost.

While Witch Hunter: Into the Outside was humorous, The Wicked Ones: Children of the Lost is a straight horror novel. Be prepared for that as you enter, my friends!

Now, without further interruption, I introduce you to the pale man.


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A dead man’s stink crept up from the back seat of the car. It clung to clothing, seeped out through open windows and pierced the senses of those nearby. A cheerful whistle in the air said the pale man wasn’t concerned about the smell; rather it brought a tune to his lips. His feet were propped up on the dashboard as he enjoyed the glowing lights of New Athens.

“You know what I like about small cities?” he asked the dead man. “They just fit so comfortably, don’t they?”

“He can’t hear you,” came a childish voice, as fingers dug at the dead man’s flesh. “He’s dead!”

“Heh, heh, heh. I always find the dead are the best listeners.”

A thing prowled around in the darkness between the trees, snorting, followed by a low growl.

“Looks like we have company,” the pale man said with a thin, gray-lipped grin toward the dead. He stretched up to his feet and stepped from the car, wiping a long, stringy strand of hair from his face and leaving the car door hanging open in the cool night air.

“Oh boy, oh boy! Does that mean I can see my family now?” The creature in the back seat climbed out through the window and hopped to the ground, barely able to contain its excitement.

“I think it does.” The pale man patted the creature’s raw, bald head. “You were always my favorite.”

It looked up to him and smiled with a mouth full of needle teeth and pinkish, rubbery gums laced with purple veins.

The thing from the woods stalked out, heavy and large, a nightmare given form. It used its arms like an extra set of legs, and its neck snaked out several feet. It dropped large chunks of mauled meat into the grass before the pale man, a gift of submission to a greater beast. The meat was so torn and violated that it gave no hint to what it once had been.

Without hesitation, the small child leapt at the offering, tearing meat from bone with its pointed teeth. Nearly a half-dozen sets of eyes opened in the darkness, and their hungry mouths followed the scent of meat. The pale man took one last deep breath as he looked out over the city.

“Great city.” His grin stretched even farther. “I think I’ll take it.”


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Like what you’ve read? Preorder The Wicked Ones: Children of the Lost here:

Eve of Witch Hunter

(This blog was written before releasing Witch Hunter, but is being posted the day after Witch Hunter’s release.)

I sit now on the eve of the release of my first book, Witch Hunter: Into the Outside, and I know that I’m a gambler. My wife and I, in full agreement, uprooted ourselves from South Korea, leaving behind her family and a successful business to travel across the ocean with a newborn baby, a decent savings, and a few books ready to be printed. If not for the great support system (my parents and family members) we would not have been able to accomplish this.

But why, J.Z.? Why roll the dice with a baby and a successful business?! Why try writing when your English academy in Korea was going so well?

Because there’s magic in words. And I mean that. My fingers (and everyone else’s) carry a power to shape worlds and write truth. Each word becomes law, and is so powerful that it can instantly nullify any that came before it.

Read this.

As Tom Harper stared at his reflection in the mirror and adjusted his tie, he knew he wasn’t a bad man. There wasn’t a spec of dust on Tom’s red velvet tie, and likewise, no stain upon his consciousness. He’d never told a lie in his life, or ever hurt a soul. 

No, he’d never hurt anyone. 

Of course, there was Joel Gonzales laid out across Tom Harper’s spotless floor, the old orange extension cord still tightly wrapped around his neck. Joel’s purple face and red bulging eyes were trying to accuse Tom of being a bad man, but he wouldn’t listen.

Nope, Tom was a good man that never hurt a soul, and you’d be hard pressed to find anyone in town that felt the old drunkard, Joel, had a soul.

He beamed a tight smile toward the mirror and checked his teeth for bits of lettuce from his sandwich that might have escaped the toothbrush.

I love what words can do. I love that Tom there was a good man because I told you he was. And I love that you have to question his sanity by the fact that I keep telling you he’s a good man.

So that is why my wife and I gambled, because I love words and I think with the proper formations of them, I can shape them into a worthwhile story.

( Witch Hunter on sale now, order here: )

View From My Desk

This is the view from my computer desk.
As you might notice, it’s in the basement, because all horror writers work in the basement.
Recently my workspace is even more atmospheric since there’s a bat flying around.
I tried to slay him yesterday (and by slay, I mean chase him outside with a towel), but through sheer cunning and a relentless desire to torment me, he hid in the dark.
Now the cowardly flying rat refuses to face me in the light of day, but wisely steals away into the darkness, biding his time to strike me when I am weakest.
Round 1 goes to you, my adversary.
I didn’t get quite a good look at him, but I’ve included a picture of what I assume he looks like.

Ahh, I guess I can’t be too angry. I’m sure bats and basements are necessary ingredients for brewing a good horror story.

If you’d like to see what emerges, check out, “The Witch Hunter: Into the Outside,” due out January 9th!