Police KILLED my brother

In July of 2012 my little brother was gunnde down by the Turlovck, Ca police. I have not talked about it because I was not sure what had happened. There were a number of rumours and hearsay. After NINE months I was finally able to get the police report released to me. I knew I was going to cry when I read it, I was not aware I was going to be disgusted and angry as well.

On that July day my brother was chased by the police because of a shoplifting incident the day before. They were on the lookout for the car he was in.

He hoped out of the car when it was disabled on the Bradbury exit ramp and tried to get into another car. The cops surrounded him. In the report a number of offciers stated they did not see the gun, which they would have seen had he pointed it them.

The officers fired at my brother, Joe Davis, and took his life. One was using a shot gun which to me implys they intended to kill him, I mean why else use a shotgun. The bastards. A number of shells were found at that scene that belonged to the officers. In the report it reflects a number of cops there were trainees, and though they didn't SEE the gun they fitred because the other officers yelled 'Gun" or Crossfire"... BAstatrds he had two kids and a family that loved him. My brother was everything to me. Once my older brther Jimmy died when i was 15 Joe stepped up to be there for me and protect me as ony a brother can. Those cops are killers and got away with murder :(

Book Trailer for Will of the Waves

Check out my new book trailer : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=enNjV76ES2w&feature=youtu.be

Book Tour: Blood Witch by Ellie Potts

Blurb:
Welcome to the Opposite Side where monsters really do roam the night, but The Supervisors make sure that the monsters don’t get noticed by the normal humans. Meet Leslie, a Supervisor and a blood witch, one of four in California. Blood witches are said to have powers that rival gods, that’s why they were almost hunted to extinction. Leslie came into her power late, and fell in with the wrong crowd before she became a Supervisor. Nathan is king of the local werebear clan, and he has plans for the future of his pack, the other local shapeshifters, but also has his eyes set on Leslie. She is not your ordinary Blood Witch, and together they can stir up power that the world has never seen. But nothing is as it seems in the Opposite Side, and Leslie’s already different world is going to be shaken as a new case starts a chain of events that can lead to a feud war.

Excerpt:
“I’m glad you and Nathan are getting along. I know he wasn’t very happy about me working or living with a blood witch. You guys are the equivalent to the bogeyman to the werechildren.” He swiveled towards her in the chair. They sat on two old wheeled stools. Bored, they were twisting and turning on them, waiting for the new vampire to rise. Sometimes they didn’t at all; if the other vampire had been weak the body would just die.

“Sheesh, thanks for sharing. I already feel bad about what I am, but I get reminded daily on what a monster I am. So maybe I get a bit wild once in a while, it’s not like I go all furry once a month and crave fresh meat.” She sat in her own swivel chair, arms crossed, pouting. Earlier they had raced around the room. Now they were just bored, after getting caught making gloved balloon animals.

“Les, you know I don’t mean anything by it. I was just telling you.”

“Sure,” she said making a paper airplane with a discarded piece of paper she had found on the counter. She finished and let it glide. It dropped near the door, crumpling on the floor. The mortuary assistant walked in followed by two men who looked at each other, startled. Leslie felt her chest lurch as her eyes fell upon the shortest of the men.

“I’m sorry, I must have gotten the rooms mixed up,” the assistant said to the two men.

“Leslie,” Rich said, trying not to sound as surprised as his brown eyes were letting on. She noticed his dark brown hair not only had some grey, but was also thinning. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, a sign of nervousness, his weakness in the wereworld. Jonathan hated when Richard showed his nervousness around the wolves. You can find him scolding the witch every so often about it like he was a naughty child.

She said nothing as the assistant led them away. The door closed. “Well, that was awkward,” Patrick said as Leslie got to her feet and went to the body.

“Patrick, why hasn’t the vampire risen yet?” She grabbed the sheet covering the body and pulled it off. “I’m sure it would have already.”

Patrick came to stand beside her and they looked over the body. “It’s rather old to be vampire bait don’t you think?”

“Where is the vampire bites?” She moved the head looking at the neck. She then pulled the sheet fully off the body. Her eyes looked lower for a bite, scanning every inch of the body.

Their eyes went to the door when a scream erupted in the hall.

Author Bio:
Somebody told Ellie Potts you had to be rich to be eccentric otherwise you were just crazy. She set out to prove them wrong doing things she was told she couldn't do like dressing like a pirate, get her books published, playing video games, planning to survive a zombie apocalypse, and other antics most women stay away from. Her love of books motivate her and movies captivate her. She loves almost everything from Disney to George Romero. She lives in California's Central Valley where most of her stories and books take place. Her and her husband are owned by their attack Bugg (Boston Terrier/Pug), and her two red eared slider turtle minions who live in the backyard.

Blog: http://authorelliepotts.blogspot.com/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorElliePotts
Twitter: https://twitter.com/FanGirlEllie
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5829944.Ellie_Potts

Walter (From Endless Dreams)

Christy sat in her car and watched the scene play out before her. While on her way to the weapons shop a car chased erupted on the freeway behind her.  She had got off on the next off ramp, and so had the person being chased. She had no choice but to pull over onto the shoulder to let him, and the officers, by.

           

The driver in the Honda lost control of the car during a turn and was forced to get out and run. The officers stopped as well to get out of their cars. Christy knew this was never a good thing. She hated officers.

           

The white male ran towards a black truck on the side of the road, in hopes of getting a new ride to get away. Christy saw the .45 glock in his hand, and knew this was not going to end well for him.

           

The eight officers on the scene had their guns pulled out as well as they slowly approached him. Christy tightly gripped her steeling wheel. She didn’t want to see what was going to happen. She had done some things people may described as horrible, but it was to individuals who deserved it. Individuals who thrived on making other people lifes hell with their smug attitude and crude comments. This gentleman was on the run; he was not insulting people or laughing at their flaws.

           

The driver of the truck locked his door, and refused to let the stranger in. Frustrated, the runner fired his gun at the driver’s door, wounding the bystander in the processed. As a killer herself, she knew he had not purposely harmed this man. Emotions had taken over and he pulled the trigger. She understood, though she knew the officers would not. They did not live their lifes like regular people. They were all about the brain and no heart.

           
The officers raised their weapons and yelled their orders. “Freeze!” “Drop you weapon!”

           

The runner rubbed his head in thought. His body tensed and Christy could sense his hostility. He was looking at a long list of charges; attempted murder, fleeing, speeding, resisting arrest, gun charges, and a number of others. He must of known he was caught and going away for a number of years. His car was disabled, and he was stuck on the overpass. He had nowhere left to run.

           

Out of options, he turned. Christy watched as he raised his gun at the officers. An eager officer pulled his trigger on the runner, and two others’ quickly followed suit. The runner’s body rocked as the bullets hit him. it was over in a matter of seconds, and the runner laid dead in the middle of the road. Blood leaked from his torso and head. Christy felt for him.

           

She looked at the officer who had first pulled his trigger. Unlike the others, who went to check on the wounded bystander and runner, he stayed on the sideline. She saw a faint smile on his lips, and a glint of pride in his brown eyes. He was glad he had killed this desperate man on the run. His hand hovered over the handle of his gun that was not holstered. In his mind she knew he was reliving it.

           

Christy’s eyes narrowed on him, as anger filled her. This officer was just like all the others that visited her chamber of pain. Smug, arrogant, and thrived on others flaws. She took a calming breath as she decided her next move. She would continue on to the weapons shop to get something special for this Minster officer, and then she would track her prey.

It was easy for Christy to take the officer when he was off duty. Her look of innocent never failed her. She dropped him in a room in her basement, and went upstairs to watch his reaction on the cameras. She felt like making him suffer a little before she took his life.

 Walter woke up in a strange room. The stint of decay hit him first. He sat upright as fear and alarm coursed through him.

           

His gun was missing. “Shit,” he mumbled. The floor and walls were stained with blood. Chains and blades hung on the walls. He was in a place of torment.

           

Slowly, he became aware of the body lying against the wall. It was the source of the stint. Bale crept up his throat as he walked towards it. The smell told him it was too late to help this person, but the way they died may give him a hint of what awaited him.

           

The body was naked. It was a woman whose mouth had been sewed shut. He recognized her face; this was Joyce Riggs, the missing sales clerk from the local mall. Judging from her wounds Walter would say she died from the cutthroat after weeks of salvation. The killer showed her mercy in the end.

           

“Crazy bastard!” he yelled, knowing that serial killers loved to feed on the fear of their victims. “I will arrest you!”

           

“Then come find me,” a voice softly said, from the tiny speakers on the wall.

           

He was surprised to surprise to hear it was a woman who taunted him. He eyed the speakers. “You will go to jail.”

           

Laughter rolled out them. She was enjoying his threats. “You’re cute.”

           

Anger bubbled inside of him as his hands curled into fists. “Damn you woman, you will pay for this!” The cold laughter came again.

           

There were three doors in this room. He found one was locked. The second door opened to a narrow hallway that had spikes sticking out of the wall. When he took a step he found there was a level in the floor that was triggered when he stepped on it, that caused the walls to start to move towards each other. He would be dead before he had a chance to make it through.

           

The third and final door was not much more pleasure than the last one, except it offered a way out. The small hall had wire criss-crossing throughout it. On closer examination he found the barbwire was razor sharp.

“Fucking hell,” he shook his head. He didn’t want to cross this but there was no other way out. He stripped out of his loose t-shirt so it wouldn’t get stuck on the barbwire. It was a difficult task. He got cut a number of times, but he made it through. He was relieved that the door on the other side of the hall from hell was unlocked.

“Thank God,” he whispered as he turned the knob. He was one step closer to catching this sicko.

He froze when he was faced with a petit woman. She wore dark liner and red lipstick. She had on blue caprices and a white tank-top. She was very attractive. “Found me,” she said with a smirk. “Congratulations.” She lifted her hand to reveal a bottle. She sprayed a mist in his face to knock him out.

Walter woke up a second time this day. He was in another room, strapped to a table. The woman stared down at him. Her eyes were cold and heartless. “Who are you?” he asked, as he tugged at his restrains. He was hoping he could pull them loose.

“Death.” She inclined her head in thought. “Just like you.”

“I’m a cop,” he corrected. There was a part of him that wanted to get lost in the fear he felt, but he couldn’t. He knew he would die if he did that.

She gave him a single nod. ‘Oh yes; a cop.” Her curved brows slid up with amusement. “I forgot. You didn’t appear to be a cop when you gunned down that man this morning.”

He froze. He had forgot that had happened this morning. “That junkie deserved to die.

Rage flared in her eyes. She lifted a hatchet and slammed its blade into his shoulder. He cried out in horror and pain. “That junkie was a man in need of help, not a bullet! That junkie was running from his problems and life!” She hacked him again, driving the blade deep within his flesh. “That junkie was a victim of this blind, heartless society that is ran by men like you! Men who sees a hurting man,” she swung her hatchet again. “As nothing more than a junkie!” She brought the hatchet down on the base of his neck.

Walter choked on his blood as he struggled to breath.

Disgust distorted her face. She bent down to whisper in his ear. “That junkie had a family.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “He may have been lost in a world of drugs, and blinded by pain and despair but he did not deserve to die by your gun, alone in the road.” She hacked into Walter’s face, determined to end his life. The blade ripped the eyeball from its socket. “He did not deserve to believe WE did not love him! He deserved the world.” Hack. “He deserved to grow old and be happy!” Hack. “And now You,” hack. “And your kind will pay for taking that from him!” Hack. “You took my Brother from Me!” Tears ran down her face as she hacked into him. “You stole my happiness!” Hack. Hack. Hack. “I hate you all. I WILL KILL YOU ALL!!” She dropped the hatchet, feeling numb inside

Walter’s face was gone. Blood and gore covered her brother’s white wife beater. Christy wasn’t one to get emotional attached to things. She wasn’t the one to cry, but her heart hurt.

That junkie was no junkie at all; he was her life. The only person who understood her and allowed her to be herself. Now she was unleashed; thrown into the world filled with hurt, pain, and rage. People like Walter would die. The people who laughed at other people’s flaws and made their life’s hell would suffer. Christy would hurt them all; and bring them to her chamber of pain. The beast within her would be released. Until now she only took a few souls, but thanks to Walter, she would take them all.  

Review: Flights of Delusion by Ellie Potts

Flights of Delusion is my favorite type of book: a short story collection. The stories range from weird to horror, and the author Ellie Potts did a great job at creating worlds that were easy to get lost in. 'Shotgun Weddin' ' was a glimpse into a bus rider's nightmare, while 'Goo' was a look into a depressing future with the last two people on earth. You find yourself relating to the characters, and the touches of humour do not go by un-noticed. It is a good read for all. Four out of five stars.

Review by Toy Davis, author of 'The Last Resort' and 'Diaries of the Fag hags.'

Interview I did for Sabrina's Paranormal Palace

When did you know you wanted to become a writer? I have been writing all my life, but it wasn't until I was in my late teens that I decided to be an actual writer thanks to my friend Author Ellie Potts

How did the idea of series come to you? My ideas usually come from 'what if' questions; example what if zombies were real? Then I will base an story line on that question.

Are any of your characters based off people you know? In Diaries of the Fag Hags when I read it to edit I realized a couple of the characters did remind me of some of my friends. They somehow snuck their way into my novel

How many books will be in the series? Right now the two novels I have are solo books, my WIP is the first book in a series though. I imagine it may be five or six books.

How do you over come writer’s block? I always work on two projects at once so when I get tired of one I can work on the other. It keeps me from getting stuck on one of piece.

What is your writing process? I decide on what to write, write out the key points that I want to happen, and finally draft up an outline of each chapter before I write them.

What is your favorite paranormal being? Vampires are fun to write about but so are elemental beings so I'm torn between the two.

What was the first paranormal book you read? R.L Stine and LJ Smith were the horror/paranormal books I read I was younger.

Who are some of your favorite authors? S.E Hilton, Ilona Andrews, and LJ Smith

Can you give us any hints about future books? I have a pirate novel and short story collection coming out this year so keep your eye out.

Is there a writer or writers that inspire you? S.E Hilton and HP Lovecraft

What paranormal being would you like to be? Elemental being

If you were stranded on a deserted island what character would you want with you and why? hmm is this mine or someone else's? If it is from any character I will say Superman so he can fly me out of there. if it is from my characters then Gentina from my pirate novel because she's a pirate.

What would you do in a zombie apocalypse? Try to survive, ha

What 3 people would you like to have dinner with and why? Obama, because I wonder how he is when he's not in front of the caremas. My brothers Joe and Jimmy bcz they are no longer here and I would like to talk to them one more time.
Favorites:
Color: Pink
Pets: 3 cats; Socks, Teller, and Caddy plus three turtles named turtle
Food: Thai Food
Drink: Pepsi
Holiday: 4th of July bcz I love the fireworks
Music: I love all music
Movie: Dead Alive, 27 dresses, Blade 2 and LOTR

This or That; This
Night or Day? Night
Theater or Rent? Rent
Fall or Summer? Fall
Music or Reading? Reading
Pet Dragon or Pet Gargoyle? Pet Gargoyle
Flip flops or Tennis Shoes? Flip Flops

On Writing, Reading, and Loving Different Genres

Get to know my Guest Blogger Selah Janel author of In the Red

I’ve said it ten million times and I’ll say it again: I love stories. Stories entertain, stories teach, stories warn, stories comfort, stories tell us where we came from and they give us varying answers as to where we’re going. I grew up lucky enough to have a lot of different influences: a mother who insisted I spend a lot of time at the library, local access shows featuring storytellers, Reading Rainbow, people in the community who could tell a good yarn, and all the glorious and outrageous programs of the 1980s.

Through the years I’ve learned to appreciate a lot of different forms and genres. I read a little bit of everything, from all types of fiction to comics to nonfiction. I love that there’s always a fresh take on an idea to experience or a new concept to learn. That curiosity has probably kept me going more often than not, especially when it comes to my writing. I’m one of those authors that has a hundred ideas gnawing at me at any given moment, and they don’t pay attention to what I think my strengths and weaknesses are. In their primeval little minds, a story is a story is a story. So what am I? A horror writer? A fantasy author? A speculative fiction-type person? A writer of young adult and children’s stories? A literary writer? A chick lit author? I usually answer yes to all of the above. It’s a great thing to say at parties; people never know how to respond.

The thing is, I get why we’ve divided ourselves up into certain types of authors, but a writer is a writer is a writer. We all go through similar processes, we all care about the stories we’re writing…I don’t understand why some genres are held over others as being “real fiction,” “real literature,” or “harder” to write than anything else. I get that people may like reading certain things over others, and some authors like writing only certain genres. That’s awesome – I’m all for people going with what suits them. For better or worse, I’m one of those people that likes to get into everything. If an idea wants to happen, it’ll happen.

I’m curious about a lot of things, and even just going about my business on a given day can inspire me. You never know what would happen if the flowers you pass have fairies living in them or if a vampire resides in the old abandoned barn off the side of the highway. Sometimes all it takes is a certain turn of phrase from someone to kick my brain into high gear. I may test the idea out on a trial basis, but if it’s persistent, I know I’ve got to find a way to do justice to it. I usually know pretty fast where it belongs, though: horror, fantasy, urban fantasy, and on and on. It helps that I genuinely like a lot of different genres; I don’t think there’s anything that I absolutely hate to read.

I admit to having varying comfort levels, but I think it’s important to not be biased about genre. Horror can entertain, but it also sheds a lot of light about the nature of fear and can act as a powerful metaphor. Fantasy in all its many forms connects us to something deeper, to legends that go back both to older tales and the invention of new myths. Sci-Fi makes us think about where our world is headed and what we’re doing to get it there. Literary fiction gives us a look at a lot of real-world situations and the emotions that go with them. Kid lit and young adult fiction not only help kids learn and grow, but they also provide a safe haven for us adults who like to curl up with some nostalgia from time to time and remember what it was like to be a kid. Chick lit and all forms of romance definitely give us a chance to live vicariously, but they also make us think about how we would act in some of those situations. What I love about all these is that they can all start off as entertainment, but they can be used for so many other purposes. I’m not about to look down on readers of any of them just because it’s the genre they like. I may not agree with an author’s ideas or execution, but it works and people connect with it, then the author has obviously done their job well.

The thing is that all have their place, and I like being able to play in all of those playgrounds. Sure, it may be a little harder for people to categorize me, but I can’t help but think that it’s a benefit if I’m popping up in more than one place. It’s good to have a lot to say and a lot of options to express it… …And if being diverse keeps the little nibbling ideas from gnawing me raw, then so much the better!

Catch up with Selah and all her ongoing projects at the following places: Blog – http://www.selahjanel.wordpress.com Fandom Scene Column – http://www.fandomfestblog.com/blogs/selah-janel Facebook Author Page – http://www.facebook.com/authorSJ Facebook Book Page – http://www.facebook.com/intherednovel Goodreads - http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5622096.Selah_Janel Amazon Author Page - http://www.amazon.com/Selah-Janel/e/B0074DKC9K/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1346815995&sr=1-2-ent Twitter – http://www.twitter.com/SelahJanel