Michael Phillip Cash's Brood X Presents the Horrible Side of Nature...

"It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day in the neighborhood, and would you be mine? Would...you be...my neighbor?" The disembodied voice sang Mr. Roger's theme song as the camera panned a peaceful, affluent community.

It was an old-fashioned hamlet, each house nestled on tightly manicured foliage on expensive half-acre plots. The streets were filled with the reckless driving of ninety-nine-pound, perfectly coiffed mommies in their expensive and oversized SUVs. If the speed limit was thirty-five down a residential path, they were pushing at least fifty. The only blot on the horizon was how to fit soccer, ballet, piano, and yoga class between four p.m. and six p.m., so the skinless and boneless chicken would have time to cook to perfection and the quinoa wouldn't be al dente.

Seth, the singer of this charming ditty, took his new camera on a tour of his property. Small patches of snow covered the lawn, remnants of an unusually early November snowstorm that happened two weeks ago.

Although it was chilly outside after that freak weather event, it had been unseasonably mild. "It was funny," Set mused. The anchors on television had turned weather into newsworthy items: rain was an event, storms became a "super-event," and snowstorms and the media were on a first-name basis.

He looked at a tree on his property. Magnolia buds had stupidly started sprouting.

As he spoke, his breath floated before the

lens of the camera. "Casa de Fletcher, baby."

BROOD X:

A Firsthand Account of The Great Cicada Invasion

By Michael Phillip Cash

"And they shall cover the face of the earth,

that one cannot be ale to see the earth..."

--Exodus 10:5

When Cash does horror...he "does" horror! First he puts us into the scene and we meet our characters, good or bad... I quickly formed an opinion about Seth who is laid off from work and doesn't seem to care...while his wife is working...

His poor wife is worrying and struggling, but if he sees

something he wants, he buys it, with no thought of the money. Sure, he's on unemployment for awhile, but his lackadaisical attitude sure got me...riled... His latest purchase was a movie camera, which was not only expensive, but also keeps on requiring money to continue using it...

"Everything is funny as long as it is happening to somebody else."

--Will Rogers

Cash counterbalances his main character by using chapter headings to lead readers into what might be happening next. With Seth nothing seems to get through to him...it's just hype... Can't worry... So when they start broadcasting the news that the invasion of the cicada is coming, he laughs or ignores it...

In the meantime, his wife, is pregnant and they begin planning for its arrival... playing a game with what they will name the child. You can tell the two are in loved... but... his arrogant, condescending attitude just might get them into trouble...

It was from the Bible that I had learned about the 17 year cycle, plus I, of course, have had my own experience with them. This year, for one, I was glad that I didn't read this book before they came!😟 Two, I was hardly bothered because the cicadas settled up in my acres of timber and only a few came down around my cabin. But the sound, their song, is bad enough to throw most of us into constant caution...

I must say that the brilliant opening of the book automatically sets the reader up for a tense, waiting, experience. Remember that camera that was filming everything...well...it was found by the police and was the basis upon which the story was put together....after everything was over...

"What quarrel, what harshness, what unbelief in each other can subsist in the presence of a great calamity, when all the artificial vesture of our life is gone, and we are all one with each other in primitive mortal needs." --George Eliott

Brood X is the author's first horror novel. Readers will readily

see that he has a talent for creeping us out! He also lets us know that this is the perfect summer read when you're sitting outside listening to the cicadas sing... Me? I'm more likely to remember this deliciously scary novel when I hear the cicadas singing... and quickly run inside!  This novel will draw many different emotional responses for readers. Starting with a suggestive prologue and then moving into daily suburban life, only to see what happens when nature takes control... it's chilling, shocking, and...quite an educational book about ignoring Mother Nature... 

GABixlerReviews

Michael Phillip Cash is an award-winning novelist and screenwriter. His novels are best-sellers on Amazon under their genres – Young Adult, Thriller, Suspense, Ghost, Action Adventure, Fantasy, Paranormal Romance and Horror. 

Michael writes full-time and lives on the North Shore of Long Island with his wonderful wife and screaming children. You can follow him @michaelpcash.

Connect with Michael on:
Facebook: facebook.com/michaelphillipcash
Twitter: twitter.com/michaelpcash
Web: www.michaelphillipcash.com
Email: michaelphillipcash@gmail.com

Monsters! Werewolves, Vampires, Living Dead...Oh My!...

Vincent smiled, "Some say it was extraterrestrials. A sonic boom, perhaps?" 
Myers reflected. "It mimicked the explosion of June, 1908, when something exploded high above the atmosphere over Siberia with the same strength as one thousandd atomic bombs. It destroyed the tundra. Most scientists agree it was a fragment of a comet." 
Vincent shook his head. "However, no virus was recorded after that explosion, contrary to the one three years ago. Last year, the combined world governments asked all major corporations to work on solutions to containing the...the problem."
"You are, of course, referring to the victims who caught the virus. Everybody knows that the virus first appeared two years ago. It infected pockets of the population, spreading worldwide within four weeks, creating a pandemic that was brought under control through containment. They have isolated the victims control through containment. They have isolated the victims in sectioned-off campuses in the wilderness, until you decided to enclose them in your theme park. Why use plague victims?" 
Vincent grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth. "I prefer to call them zombies."
 "We don't like to refer to them that way. The politically correct term is vitality challenged."
"You can call them anything you like," Vincent said with a leer. "I like to call those flesh-eating catatonic creatures zombies."

There was a fight over his finger. He didn't even try to retrieve it.
He watched in disgust as two men tore at each other for the price morsel. They shouldn't be fighting over flesh, some small part of his brain reasoned. They were fed regularly. Usually it was recycled food from institutions, refuse they used to feed the hogs. Someone had to feed the plague victims before they fed on each other...
~~~

"That sounds a bit extreme." Joe shook his head. Vincent leaned forward, his face intense. This was a subject he was passionate about--he spoke urgently as if proving his point, and his voice rose. "This disease is responsible, not I. Once their minds are infected, they can no longer control the primal urge to eat. Their single-minded determination and lack of coherency make it impossible for them to be at large with the general population. They are a danger to themselves as well as everyone else. What would you have the government do? Kill them?" 
"Of course not," Myers said, placating him. "Keeping them isolated has kept the spread of the disease under control. Don't you think it's a risky exposure?"
"Nonsense. No one enters my zombie suburb without protective gear. My labs are working on a cure, dear man." Vincent inclined his saturnine head graciously. "I intend to see the eradication of the virus within five years."
"That is, if it doesn't spread. You'll lose a great portion of your theme park, Dr. Conrad."
"I think we have enough to keep people entertained. With my discovery of werewolves in the Everglades--"

~~~

Monsterland

By Michael Phillip Cash
Now published under Michael Okon!

Aimed toward our youth who love monsters, as we did when young, or if you still crave for horror stories as an adult, do check this book out by prolific writer Michael Cash... If  you scrupulously read the book, you may pick up the very few clues to alert you...that's my only hint...because the story moves quickly and smoothly into a new theme park like no other! Where all of the monsters, except for the few that are used as enticement into various sections of the park, are all real!

The lead male stood, his head tilted. He heard it again. It was music, the strange organization of sounds, predictable as well as dangerous. Where those rhythms originated meant only one thing--they were not alone. They all rose, tense and alert, searching the waterway. Billy pointed, his dirty hands silently parting an outcropping of trees to expose a flat-bottom boat with strangers floating slowly toward them. It was filled with people, excitedly searching the banks of the swamp, their expensive khaki bush clothes ringed with sweat...
What were the interlopers doing here? Billy thought furiously. This was their territory...
~~~

The main reason the concept of  Monsterland came up is that a disaster occurred within the last few years and all over the world there were now those, still living, but horribly infected and deformed by what occurred. The government of course had worked to handle the disaster and had shut all those infected in camps and had even did the "politically correct" thing to call them "vitally challenged..." OMG, only in America... Because no matter how you put it, they are the living dead--zombies as we first knew them... 

Only in America
can a poor,
homeless boy find
employment
and work his way
up the ladder of
succeed."*
~~~

A very rich man, Dr. Vincent Conrad, had come to the fore, offering to build not only one but more theme parks across the world to, first, give a community in which the zombies can live, but also to allow research to go on so that, hopefully, the virus may be stopped. Although representatives of some of the other involved countries come to the U.S. opening, all of the action takes place in the Unites States(openings were occurring all over the world at the same time...)

The story focuses on a family and several close friends who all have a cult-like interest in horror characters--the ones who are to be included in Monsterland...

A never-ending discussion from Wyatt, Melvin and Howard who had become friends because they are not accepted at school, is based upon study of these various monsters, continues on which of the three would be the winner, if they fought each other. It was kind of fun to see how much each boy had studied his preferred group and will describe the various attributes that made his choice the obvious superior being...

Raoul nodded in assent. Things had been terrible since they arrived. The doctor oozed charm when he painted a picture of recreating all their former glory. Instead, Conrad gave them shabby reproductions of eighteenth-century clothing, and he stuck them in a sterile version of his concept of East Germany. They were assigned roles in a cheesy rock musical, the music so embarrassingly bad it was more painful to perform it than hear it...
~~~

The family, a new husband and father plus wife and two children from her first husband, who had since died, are experiencing much of the turmoil that could evolve. In this situation, neither of the boys are willing to begin to call Carter White, their father...One minor issue hit me later in the book, noted purely from this reader's viewpoint, was that some of the scenes were not realistic, given the ages of the two boys... Still, if it takes monsters to bring them together as a family, hey, I'm all for it! LOL

This is a fun book...and sad...because once again, there is a criminal motive underneath it all...But when it got to the scary part, I'm not even sure that the original monster, Vincent Conrad, knew how bad it would be...

Scary good as the Chiller channel proclaims! Monster lover alert! Given the number and variety of horror books and movies out there, I thought Cash's book was original, complete with a family drama to detract from the gore, and yet weirdly different as at long last, we see just who would win in a monster fight...

GABixlerReviews

*Can you guess who this is?

Michael Phillip Cash is an award-winning novelist and screenwriter. His novels are best-sellers on Amazon under their genres - Young Adult, Thriller, Suspense, Ghost, Action Adventure, Fantasy, Paranormal Romance and Horror. 

Michael writes full-time and lives on the North Shore of Long Island with his wonderful wife and screaming children. You can follow him @michaelpcash.

Connect with Michael on:

Facebook: facebook.com/michaelphillipcash

Twitter: twitter.com/michaelpcash

Web: www.michaelphillipcash.com

Email: michaelphillipcash@gmail.com

Suspenseful Stillwell: A Haunting on Long Island by Michael Phillip Cash

At last alone in his bed, Paul hugged Allison's pillow close. Breathing in her light scent that lingered on the fabric, he didn't want her to go either. His eyelids were heavy, but his thoughts were too active to rest. The bed felt vast, an oasis of loneliness, the house silent, still as death. The air was still heavy. A loud boom rocked the air, reverberating throughout the house and shaking the walls...
He walked through the long dark corridor. There was a strange mist that dampened his shirt so that it clung to his body. It was cold and his skin pebbled. He heard noise, a strange growling, that got louder as he walked through the narrow passageway downstairs, his back hugging the wall. He peered into the living room. The light had a strange glow that pulsed with a life of its own. He heard laughter, recognizing it at once to be Allison. He started to run toward the sound, but each time he felt he was close by, the sound came from a different room. He caught a glimpse of something in the living room, a shadow, hairy and foul, its wickedness a palatable thing. Allison hovered before him, her hair restored, blonde locks floating behind her, her cheek dimpled. Alabaster arms reached out to him; her lips moved, but he could not hear her voice. He ran recklessly toward her, his feet slipping, moving but getting nowhere. He was stuck. He gripped the carpet and tried to propel himself but couldn't gain any ground. He rolled toward a chair and crashed into it, taking it down along with a beautiful Waterford lamp. As the crystal shattered it broke into tiny shards of glittering glass. He got onto all fours, and mustering all his strength he leaped far, flying toward her. He realized out of the corner of is eye, something was catapulting toward him, a greasy ball of matted fur, huge and catlike. It collided with him. Powerful arms grabbed him, but his sweat drenched body slid painfully out of its vise-like embrace. The impact sent him crashing onto the living room floor. Allison floated away; her face turned toward him in a mute appear, the musty odor of something evil creating a wall of interference.
He came awake with a start, his heart beating wildly, sweat soaking his body. He got out of bed and ran to the hallway. The night was silent and all the kids were asleep. He rushed downstairs to see the living room. There was no sign of any struggle. The lamp was lit and whole; no glass carpeted the floor. No Allison. No freakishly big apish thing trying to rip him to shreds. He shook his head and went back upstairs. Acid bathed the back of his throat.
Reaching for the water by his bedside, he groaned at the pain, clasping his hand to his rib cage. His fingers came away red with blood. Three long tracks scored his skin. It looked as if a bear's claw had grazed the smooth skin of his side.
Shaken, he stumbled to the bathroom and examined his side. On closer look, it wasn't bad or really even that painful. It was just there. Paul stared at his white face trembling with fear, for his wife, his children, and himself.

~~~

Stillwell:

A Haunting on Long Island

By Michael Phillip Cash

No matter what this author writes, you can be fairly certain that it will be unique, providing a storyline that will remain to be elusive to readers. And when it gets into the paranormal, you can expect to be scared, totally unsure what is actually happening. I was going along enjoying the suspense--but, have to say, the ending totally caught me in surprise... Don't you love when that happens!

Paul Russo is a very sympathetic main character. His wife died after a long bout from a brain tumor, but even as she was facing her last hours, Paul didn't want to let her go. They had known each other almost their entire lives, meeting and becoming close while still in diapers. There was never any question, except when Paul left for college and suggested that they should date others. Clearly that was not what Allison wanted and so their relationship had led to marriage--a happy marriage with three beautiful children. Allison was still very young when she was diagnosed and the entire family suffered along with her pain and suffering...

Paul's sister had taken the children during the funeral arrangements and for some time afterward. Now they were coming home; Paul was not ready...

"That's not dirt," Molly whispered.
"Look at the wishing well. That's not
direct," Her shocked eyes looked at him.
He peered closer to the picture. A white
haze surrounded the well. "Spooky"
was the word that came to mind. It was
thicker at the bottom and wispy toward
the top. It had the image of a person,
but a skeptic would have thought it
was a smudge on the lens. From the
group of pictures that were taken of the
facade, one had a caption put there
by the photographer, next to the
bedroom window: "I thought you said
the house was empty." It was written
underscored with lines.
"Oh my God, Paul, look at that window."
Molly pointed to the last bedroom,
the one overlooking the well.
He held his breath. No, no, no. It couldn't
be, he thought but he turned to Molly
and said, "Don't say it, just don't say it."
"But it's Allison," Molly whispered into
the shocked silence.
!!!

Jesse had been the first child that exhibited problems in being back...he confessed he'd smell his mother's perfume and he would miss her so much... Then he share his dream with his father. Once he'd shared it, though, he started to do better. His twin sister was more mature and was quick to help get things back to some semblance of normal... While his youngest was quite sure and open in sharing that their mother was still there...

"Dad," Sella touched his unshaven cheek with her grubby hands. "Mommy is here. I know it. Just ask her what to do and she'll tell you. You have to listen."

Afterward she'd shared that, he muttered, "If it was only that easy..."

Paul was a well-known real estate agent and his company had been willing to have him off until he was ready to come back, but he learned a relative had been given his parking space and he figured he'd better get back there...So, in the midst of getting the kids back to school, trying to prepare some decent meals for them and help them deal with their own sorrow, Paul didn't have much time... But the dreams didn't go away. The same one in various versions, but always the monster prevented him from saving Alison...

The bedroom. The master bedroom. It was the
crime scene; he had read the report on his
computer. He saw the dusty outline of the grand
furniture and wondered how well they were able
to clean it. He rubbed a small circle in the glass,
pressed his eye, and blinked.
"Oh my God!" Bile rose to burn his throat when
he saw the carnage inside. Guts and gore
splattered the room. Streaks of blood and holes
from the shotgun pellets peppered the white
walls. Bits of brain and decaying flesh
decomposed on the floor... He wondered if
Melissa knew it hadn't been cleaned yet.
!!!

Getting back to work did produce one salvation, a major house was to be sold and they had saved it for him. It was a very old home that was reputed to be haunted. The house had been named Stillwell  after the large well that still stood on the property and was supposed to have been the location of at least one death when the body was later found at the bottom... There was even, it was said, a family demon, which was supposed to guard against evil...??? Paul made his first stop at the house alone to figure out how to do his work. The first thing he saw was that a crime scene had not been cleaned, but then realized that it was a vision. He fell down the stairs and was sure he'd been pushed... The incidents continued until he actually was found in the bottom of the well!

Paul began to do research on the house so he could try to spotlight the value of the property instead of the deaths there. Readers will learn along with Paul, about the Loyalists--Supporters of the British and the happenings prior to the Revolutionary War... But the dominant issue was the murder of Hannah Andrews at Stillwell... and then finding her lover at the bottom of the well...

And, yes, the house was haunted, the ghost seen by more than just Paul! But why did the female ghost, whose name was Hannah Andrews, resemble Allison?!? 

Cash writes novels that move at a steady pace...taking readers just as far as the next action that is happening within the story. Be prepared for ghosts routinely part of the story--are they nightmares or actually happening, especially since Paul seems to be injured each time in some way...

I loved the ending--totally surprising--totally satisfying-- A wonderful conclusion for a family who had been greatly damaged by the loss of their wife and mother...Highly recommended...


GABixlerReviews

Michael Phillip Cash is an award-winning novelist and screenwriter. His novels are best-sellers on Amazon under their genres - Young Adult, Thriller, Suspense, Ghost, Action Adventure, Fantasy, Paranormal Romance and Horror. 

Michael writes full-time and lives on the North Shore of Long Island with his wonderful wife and screaming children. You can follow him @michaelpcash.

Connect with Michael on:
Facebook: facebook.com/michaelphillipcash
Twitter: twitter.com/michaelpcash
Web: www.michaelphillipcash.com
Email: michaelphillipcash@gmail.com

Weird - Strange - You Can Depend on Michael Phillip Cash to Provide it in The History Major...

She perused the vaguely familiar room, her mouth so dry it was actually painful.She got clumsily to her knees and pulled herself onto the bed, closing her eyes against the bright glare from the drapeless window. 

"You'll be late," an irritatingly cheerful voice warned. "Come on, lazybones. Time to get up. You have so much to learn." 

Amanda put a flattened pillow over her head, shutting out the voice. Someone was pulling it. 

"Manda," the voice sang. "You don't want to miss the first day! Isn't school fun!"

 "Who are you?" Amanda's voice was muffled by the bedding. She rolled over, snatching the pillow to hold it protectively over her abdomen. She heard the familiar melody of a nursery thyme, one of her least favorites, "The Muffin Man."

 "Stop!" she snapped. She looked up groggily. Two faces swam before her. They wavered and then settled into a single image. Amanda studied the unfamiliar girl. "Do I know you? Her nasal contralto drifted into every nook and cranny of Amanda's abused head until Amanda's teeth drummed in time to the ditty. Amanda squeezed her eyes shut, holding her hands over her ears, the music growing louder until it sounded as though it were filling her brain... Amanda cleared her gravelly throat. "What's your name?"

"You don't remember?" The girl pouted prettily. Amanda fought the urge to smack her. "I'm your roommate." 

Did she have to sing every time she spoke? Amanda thought sourly. "My roommate? I don't think so." Amanda glanced around the room. "What happened to Tonya?" Amanda glanced around the room. "What happened to Tonya?"...

"Tonya? Who's Tonya?" Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm questioned, her white teeth making Amanda squint from their brightness. She stared at Amanda as if Amanda were an idiot, her head cocked to one side...

~~~

The History Major

By Michael Phillip Cash

Don't be surprised if you think you've entered The Twilight Zone as you read this book... It's not the usual suspense, because both the reader and the main character, has no idea what is going on... Is it just a really bad trip from drinking so much the night before? Or, maybe, somebody put something in her drinks that were causing these hallucinations? Dare you proceed?

Amanda Green was waking to her first day of classes. But she awoke so hung over that she could not move...the room smelled musty, sour--probably she got sick from all the vodka. She called out to her friend, Danielle, to shut off the lights but nothing happened. Then she felt a lump under her and came out with her cell phone--17 missed calls! Most from her mother! Hey, we just separated, she can't possibly need to talk to me! She called to her friends, but nobody answered. Then the phone rang...her mother again... She was hoping it was Patrick. Would they ever be able to get over the big fight they'd had? She thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye... She wished Patrick was here; he always took care of her... 

She shuddered and rolled onto her back, a chill caressing her shoulders, the knowing feeling of something hovering just out of her line of sight. It was a rapid movement, both teasing and elusive...She lay sprawled on the bed motionless, watching the play of light against the white wall of her room. The shape altered, like a pulsing lava lamp. She dismissed the annoying outline. It waves again, persistently. She tried to calm herself, forcing the noise and light attacking her sensitive eyes and ears to close down. It was no use. Everything ached, and, for the third time, she tried to remember what had happened after they started drinking shots...Movement from the window competed with her wandering attention. This time it banged on the glass so hard that she recoiled, afraid the window would break. Blinking hard, she twisted, suspiciously watching the large pane of glass in the center of the wall. It remained whole, the silhouette gone. The quiet was so think, it weighed her down. The light flickered. Amanda craned her neck, feeling a muscle cramp paralyzing her with pain. "Ouch," she cried out, angry at the world, but mostly at the specter taunting her vision peripherally...

~~~

Finding out her roommate was not one of her friends--and somebody she already couldn't stand--was bad enough. But when she finally got around to looking at the schedule for her first class and saw it was History, she exploded. She hated history, had not signed up for it, and was not about to take it...

First stop was to get out of the class. She saw a group of women who sat busily working, while one came to help her. Amanda explained that she had not signed up for History... To make that long story short, she was told everybody had to take History...and if she didn't go, she would be late... Apparently it was very important on this campus to be on time, since everybody seemed to imply something was important about it... "I need to speak with somebody with authority," Amanda told her with as much imperious dignity as her pounding head would allow. Beatrice glanced at the window. The woman next to Amanda touched her shoulder, then shook her head, her voice a timorous whisper. "You have to leave. Now. Sorry. You better go . Class starts soon...She moved forward her pudgy hands reaching out to poke Amanda. "Go!" she said urgently...You better get going before... Before you miss the class." Beatrice dismissed her, spinning in her chair to type furiously at her keyboard. The women all resumed working with an indifference that rattled Amanda to her toes. She searched the room, looking for a door to a superior's office.

"Is there someone else who can help me?"
Beatrice held up a stick of gum, her face
closing up. The subject was finished.
"Gum?" she offered, her eyes narrowing.
Amanda crumbled the schedule in her
fist and left the office.
~~~

Walking across the campus was confusing as the buildings seemed to disappear much more quickly than they should. She finally reached the building for the History class, which she decided she would attend today and then work on getting out of it later. She watched as what seemed thousands of students entered the building, all going to a large lecture hall, which must have been huge! 

The students were pressing, picking out back seats so fast that soon, Amanda found herself in the first row, right in front of the teacher podium. She looked around the room, but was not able to see any of her friends who were also entered in the school. At last, she did enter into a conversation with the boy sitting next to her...

And he helped her get over the shock when the instructor walked in... Because she was looking at a man in his sixties with thinning hair but a full beard making him appear like a homeless man. But more shocking was that he was wearing a toga and leather sandals flapped against the stage floor... 


"You have got to be kidding me," she whispered, realizing that the professor had zeroed in on her face, his black eyes watching her intently.
"If this were a class on logic, I could spend the next ninety minutes discussing the reason for my appearance. It is explained extensively in my text Organon." He drew out the name slowly, his straight teeth showing brightly through his bearded smile.
There was the rumble of groans in the room. He held up a large square hand. "However, I have agreed." He wiggled bushy eyebrows to the group cheekily. "Under duress, but nevertheless, I have agreed to teach history this semester to you pack of beetle-witted, sorry excuses of humanity."
...So, instead, ladies and gentlemen, if you will open your texts to page four thousand eighty-five and discuss what you have read on the importance of dreams..."
"What...wait..." Amanda grabbed Nick's arm in panic, squeezing the spongy leather of his jacket. "Did I miss something? This is the first day...page four thousand eight-two. I didn't..."

~~~

Weird...Strange... there are no other words to best describe the book, except maybe horrible...because at some point there was a loud pounding on the entry door, so loud that it seemed the door would break down... The student next to Amanda turned around and seemed to put up his hand and the banging stopped. When she looked at him for an explanation, he merely said that if a student is late, he is not allowed into the class that day...  told you there was something strange about being late...

Actually Amanda didn't believe much of anything that was going on. And even Nick Fortune, with whom she started to spend time with, seemed to give her strange answers to most of her questions...

No wonder, the whole story will confound you, stunning you with an ongoing ease of wonder...What in the world is going on?

Thankfully, finally at the end, readers become aware of that very thing... But in the interim, Amanda is taken into various historical scenes, seemingly literally. And as each historical event occurs, something she sees, sets her into a flashback of her own life. But she can't quite figure out why... Nor can she escape from the monster that seems to always be there, just out of the corner of her eye...

OK,  I have to admit I hadn't a clue! In fact, I was relieved as the book got more toward the end. For someone who always asks the question "Why?" as I have done throughout my life, I found it difficult to become accustomed to not knowing and not even being able to guess what was happening. It was disquieting for me. Yet I could not stop reading until the book ended! I had to get the answers to the question on the back cover--Is this the mother of all hangovers or is something bigger happening?

Dare you...Can you endure the suspense of not knowing through an entire book? If you've read Cash before, you already know that he moves fluently from one genre to another--from one style of story to a completely different one next. I won't say this is a favorite, but I must acknowledge that from the very beginning it intrigued me...Note: I had entered The Twilight Zone and escaped happily... This novel is multi-genre, but closer to horror, I think. Check it out! There is an underlying learning experience to be had if you are astute. In fact, the author gives you two quotes at the beginning...I'll spotlight them for you as the only hint...

Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.--George Santayana

History is not a burden on the memory but an illumination of the soul.--Lord Acton

Thought-provoking, stunning, fascinating... but not an exciting read... You decide, but I must commend the author on once again surprising me with his ability to conceive of an idea and create an entire story surrounding the idea. History? Wasn't my favorite subject either...LOL...

GABixlerReviews

Michael Phillip Cash is an award-winning screenwriter and novelist. He's written eleven books including the best-selling Brood X, Stillwell, The Flip, The After House, The Hanging Tree, Witches Protection Program, Pokergeist, Monsterland and Battle for Darracia series.
Michael resides on the North Shore of Long Island. He writes full-time with his screaming kids in the background.
Connect with Michael on:
Facebook: facebook.com/michaelphillipcash
Twitter: twitter.com/michaelpcash
Web: www.michaelphillipcash.com
Email: michaelphillipcash@gmail.com

Pokergeist! You've Never Met a Ghost Like This One...as Created by Michael Phillip Cash

 Clutch shifted in his seat, his hemorrhoids making their presence known. They burned his ass more than the cocky kid sitting opposite him. He looked over to his opponent who was sunk low in his seat, his face swallowed by the gray hoodie he wore. Adam "The Ant" Antonowski, boy wonder, who rose from the ranks of online card games, had beaten out a seemingly impossible one hundred sixty-five thousand players to earn a coveted seat at the International Series of Poker. His pimply face peeked out from under oversized sunglasses. Clutch sneered contemptuously at him. They let everybody play today. The kid did look bug-eyed with those enormous glasses. Adam curled his hands protectively over his cards, his cards, his bitten-down fingernails repulsive.
"Rookie," Clutch muttered under his breath, his lips barely moving.
"Looks like Clutch Henderson is praying, folks," Kevin Franklyn said into his mike from where he sat in a small room watching the game. He was a former champion turned seasoned sportscaster on the poker circuit...
Stu James shook his head. "Clutch could be at his last prayers; this kid is the terminator..."
"Let's see if Clutch can exterminate the Ant," Kevin replied...

The Ant glanced out at the stark light in the picture windows. Heat shimmered in the desert, making the horizon look smeared and indistinct. The Strip was jammed already, a long line of red taillights filled the road as cars made their way down Las Vegan Boulevard.

The ants go marching one by one...Ant hummed the nursery song in his head, lost in the moment...
"How does it feel to rise from relative obscurity and find yourself face-to-face with the one and only Clutch Henderson?"
"Look, this story is about me, right?" The Ant jabbed his finger into Stu's face. "Not him. I'm the greatest player. I'm gonna create my own legacy, and it's gonna be tonight."

Kevin struggled to get down on his knees. "Clutch...Clutch." He shook the old man's shoulder. His face drained of color. "Get an ambulance," he screamed. He looked closely at Clutch. "Help..." he said sadly, knowing it was too late for an ambulance. They needed a hearse.

~~~

Pokergeist  

The 2015 New York Screenplay Contest Winner
Grand Prize - "Pokergeist” written by Michael Phillip Cash for Comedy

By Michael Phillip Cash

No, he wanted to scream, but his own
voice seemed foreign, the words
coming out jumbled and thick. No,
my dream died. He watched the room
recede, the world strangely quiet,
as the floor came up to meet this chin.
The Ant turned to see the older man
fall. Oh, he thought as he heard
Clutch's head connect with the floor.
That's gotta hurt.He turned to his adoring fans and
pumped his fist into the air, the
bracelet gripped in his clenched hand.
~~~ 

It had been at last year's International Series of Poker when Clutch Henderson had been close, but not good enough to clutch the win. It would have been a great letdown for him after all his years of experience, to have a new on-line kid taking the winning bracelet that was supposed to have been his...  Would have been, but he died there just after they had announced Ant as the winner...

A year later, another man was looking to make his mark in poker--at least enough to make decent money to live on...  Telly Martin had worked at the casino, but it had been bought by another firm and he was out of a job. Telly and Gretchen were living together at the time, but they'd had to move into a cheap motel until he could get back on his feet...

Gretchen was taking as many shifts at the bar where she worked, but she had a boss who was interested in her performing at a private party and he wasn't taking a no for an answer...

But when Telly talked about trying it one more time--maybe even entering the series, Gretchen was goodhearted enough to tell him to try it for a month...then he could apply to drive a cab at least... They had used their only savings and he started to play, mostly losing more than he won. In fact some of the regulars started teasing and giving him a hard time...

Telly gathered up the remainder of his chips, his face flush with embarrassment. "I'm glad I provided you all with an evening's entertainment," he mumbled. He looked around the table at their wizened faces. Most had skin so tough it looked like his old baseball mitt buried in the closet at home. Half of them smoked, the other half drank, and who knew what the hell the zombie woman did in her spare time. Did he really want to do this?

"Sorry if I interrupted the flow of the game," he apologized.

"A word of advice," Cigar Chomper called out in a grizzled voice.

"Yes?" Telly paused expectantly, touched that the man would help him out.

The old buy cleared his throat, the table stilled, and he sang, "You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em..." The table erupted in glee at his rendition of the Kenny Rogers classic, and even Tell chuckled, laughing at both them and himself.

"Oh, right, thanks a lot." He stuffed the chips into his pocket and waved farewell, smiling sheepishly. "I'll keep that in mind..."

~~~

Telly stood outside the Bellagio, the soaring music matching the movement of the fountains. Spouts of water shot up with each rich note sung by Andrea Bocello, and he wondered, too, if it was indeed time for him to say good-bye. He was miserable at this game...

That twenty was his stake for a game tomorrow. He was done, finito, kaput. Back to the grind. First thing tomorrow, he's have to start looking for a job. He'd tried and failed. It was time to return to reality. It's time for daydreaming to go back, where it came from--your head, he thought ruefully.

~~~

But while Telly was telling himself to get over his dream, there was somebody else there who was strolling down The Strip...and was watching Telly. He, too, was a man--the spirit of Clutch Henderson-- who'd had a dream but he was not yet ready to give it up!

And it was there, by the Bellagio fountains, that it happened...two dreams on one penny...Telly and Clutch became partners in their dreams...

He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and felt the hard surface of a coin. It was a penny. That was it, his last penny. He laughed ironically. A chill danced up his spine, and a cool current of air enveloped him.

Raising the coin, he considered Abraham Lincoln's face. Honest Abe. Honest Telly. What had being honest ever done for him? Between you and me, Abe, being honest didn't work out too well for you either.

He flipped the coin high so that it spiraled in the air above him. "I just want to win something. Anything. I don't want to be a loser anymore."

The music muted, and all Clutch heard were Telly's mumbled words. Telly's wish intruded into his thoughts. He looked at the dude's vomit-covered shoes and then glanced balefully at his own. He felt something for this loser, as if Brittney's vomit connected them in some way.

Clutch watched the coin fly and then reached out to grab the penny in midair. The wish crystallized in the air, creating an electrical current between them. Clutch's heart expanded. He didn't want to be a loser either. They were attached by more than just vomit, he realized with a smile. He pushed the coin to fly high and wide, arcing over the tall shooting water. "Truth is, I want one more shot at the bracelet?" he shouted...

~~~

I'm loving the humorous undertones to Cash's latest books (Remember Witch's Protection Program?!!!) There is not too much, nor too little...and it's always relevant to the story itself as opposed to gratuitous comedy which can be boring when overdone. This overview is just enough to give you a thirst for the story, but, believe me, there is a full family drama waiting for readers with each main character having family issues to contend with, mostly about addiction to cards, and need for money! Two things that seem to go together quite often.

The "heavenly" component is mainly about Clutch, who needs to learn his life needs to be realized, first, and then, forgiven, before he can cross over. Telly is not happy to have been caught up in a relationship with Clutch, yet as the novel moves forward, there are issues addressed for family members for both of these men...

Especially within Cash's surprise ending that could never be anticipated! Very cool! I really, really enjoyed this one! I believe you will too! Check it out...

GABixlerReviews

Born and raised on Long Island, Michael has always had a fascination with horror writing and found footage films. He wanted to incorporate both with his debut novel, Brood X. Earning a degree in English and an MBA, he has worked various jobs before settling into being a full-time author. He currently resides on Long Island with his wife and children.