About this project

My name is Larry Ray Palmer. I am a freelance writer and I am currently writing nonfiction in a number of places on the Internet, sometimes in my own name and sometimes as a ghostwriter for pay. I love what I do but my favorite thing to write is fiction because it has a life all it's own.

For my project, I want to raise enough money so I can create and publish a collection of fictional pieces. The title for the collection would be "The Darkened Rooms" and it would consist of several short stories, and even micro fiction, with a supernatural and dark element. I need your help with this project.

I intend to publish the work through Amazon and also offer it for digital download on one of my websites. Kickstarters who make pledges at the different levels can expect to get a free advance copy of the digital download, a digital copy of the work on an autographed CD, a personally autographed copy of the printed work, with the autograph made out to whomever they like, credit in the books preface for their contribution, a personal thank you note from me and, up to 3 top contributors, can have a personalized short story created just for them. If there is a different reward that you would be interested in, feel free to suggest it and you might find it on the list the next time you visit my project page. All kickstarters who make a pledge will be able to follow my progress as I write this book through the blog, which will be kept updated. You will also have my eternal gratitude.

I plan to spread the word through my websites, social networking sites, word of mouth advertising and any other available means I can find because I really want to make this project happen. I would really appreciate your help in spreading the word, as well, because when more people know about this project, it means it has a better chance for success.

To demonstrate that I have the skills for this project, I am attaching a short piece that I wrote a while back. It has been published on Associated Content and is one of my most popular works on their site. Oh and before you ask, the words vampire and child have intentionally been spelled in the Olde English style as vampyre and chylde. It was an artistic decision at the time but I have caught more grief over that decision than I care to recount. :P

Revenge by Larry Ray Palmer copyright April 2006

The flashes were intense. Savage and mercilessly, he saw the whip and felt the lash of it's hot toungue on his skin. But it was not on his skin and the whip was not within his grasp. What was the source of this horrid dream? And then he knew... it was the chylde and immediately he tensed with the thought.

Did these wretched mortals fear nothing? Did they have no shame? How dare they attack one who was under his protection? Anger flashed and the old vampyre felt the call of blood again, the thirst for it. As his anger flared, a dark cloud rose swiftly and fierce winds began to stir. In his deep blue eyes, the lightning flashed and his quickening pulse was a resounding thunder within him. He must teach these transgressors their place and do so quickly. He would not allow the chylde to suffer any mistreatment by human hands, let alone one so vile as this. What made this insignificant human think he had the right to strike the chylde of a vampyre? Did Stephen honestly believe that no harm would come to him after raising his hand to one thus protected?

The vampyres fangs began to ache for blood. He felt his old hands grow stronger with the thoughts of revenge and battle. His mind began to scream in agony as he again felt the sting of the whip and this time he could hear the screams of the chylde accompanying the snap of the whip. His blood began to boil within and he began to emit a low growl that steadily grew into a long terrifying howl. The nails of his hands began to grow quickly into sharp and deadly claws and his senses were becoming more and more acute. As the terrible whip landed again, he felt it sting and instinctively lashed out to grab at it, but with its lack of substance he only succeeded in gouging the flesh of his shoulder with his claws. This injury only served to fuel the fires of his fury and he saw Stephens face clearly. He howled again, but this time it was a howl of fury and pain, and in that moment he saw Stephens face contort into fear and Ray knew that the mortal had felt his presence and had heard his blood call. It was also in that moment, that the chylde quieted. She, too, had heard the howl and knew her fathers voice. She knew his retribution would be swift and powerful and that his anger meant her release from this crazed tormentor. She called out to Ray and the clouds began to grow darker and the winds increased in pitch. Lightning was flashing and thunder crashed like great drums of war.

The whip was raised again and brought down with more evil fury than before, but this time it failed to reach its mark. It was grasped in the powerful hand of the vampyre and he pulled it mightily in a life and death tug of war with Stephen. With his vastly superior strength the vampyre easily pulled the mortal within his grasp and held him fast about the throat inches above the ground.

The claws sank slightly into the mortals throat and the old one began to speak, "Stephen, It has been a long time. Have you forgotten me? Do you now dare to touch the chylde I claim as my own? Do you no longer remember my ways and my ancestry?"

The mortal was pale with terror and stammered stupidly, "How? Where? How?"

The claws gripped tighter about Stephens throat and blood began to trickle slowly from where the pointed tips had broken the skin, red rivulets on the blackened claws of old terror and fury. "You crossed my path before mortal and I warned you then but now you have raised a whip, this wretched piece of leather to my daughter." The vampyre struck out with the whip and slapped Stephen across the cheek with it, splitting the skin to the bone and splattering blood across his own face. "Now you have crossed the line of what I can allow. For this misdeed, you shall pay dearly." At this point, Stephen saw the fangs and knew the words were more than idle threat. He began to sob like a child with a wounded knee and his sobs grew into a loud wail. Ray slapped him across the other cheek with the whip with the same effect as before. "Get control of yourself, Mortal. Die with more dignity than you have lived. You have had many transgressions against me and mine that I have passed by but this sin against my chylde has cost you your life." Stephens mouth began to work but no words came out. His throat began to pulse rapidly and his eyes grew large. Ray gave the mans neck a quick snap to the right and Stephen now hung lifeless and limp like a rag doll. He bit into the jugular vein but quickly withdrew his fangs. This had been revenge. This blood was not sweet. It did not satisfy. It was bitter like its owner had lived. Distasteful just as Stephen had been in life. He threw the body away in disgust and walked over to the chylde. He called her name softly, "Marie, it is okay now, my chylde. He is gone and you will never suffer the whip again." He stroked her hair softly as she hugged him tightly and he began to return to form. The claws receeded into his usual nails and the fangs became less pronounced. But his eyes still flashed a fiery tempest blue as they always would in the watchful eye of a father.