“Glenn Rolfe is one of those writers who’s work I gush over. I’ll never tell him that directly. I’ll keep a stoic, nonchalant, no-big-deal look on my face while I secretly froth at the mouth for his next release.” I wrote that about seven months ago, for the Boom Town/ Glenn Rolfe blog tour. And as I reread that post the statement still holds true, maybe more so now.
Aside from being an all-around cool cat, his work speaks to me. It channels the feelings I had as a young and burgeoning horror fan. The tingling buzz of excitement as a new Glenn Rolfe joint is nearing release is almost as strong as the same buzz the 14 year old me had concerning a new Stephen King bombshell. And to me that speaks volumes. That was a long time ago, so having that feeling return is quite exciting.
When I was approached for a blog tour stop for “Blood and Rain”, Glenn’s Werewolf love letter, and a book that I had just finished reading for the second time (which also speaks volumes), I stopped what I was doing and scrambled to request the night of October’s full moon. Seemed like the right move to make, synchronicity and all that jazz.
I love this book, review forthcoming, and have added it to the list of books I want my children to read A) if they fall for the genre like I did as a youth & B) when they are old enough to partake.
Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to introduce Glenn Rolfe, an upcoming household horror name.
by Glenn Rolfe, author of Blood and Rain
So we’ve had a series of “super moons” this year. A super moon is when the moon is closer to Earth. It appears larger and brighter than normal. It also pulls harder on the tides, and since humans are made up of water, it seems to pull at us, as well.
I’m not sure what that effect is having on you, but I’ve been ready to unleash the beast all year. On October 6th, I did just that—Blood and Rain, my brand new werewolf novel with Samhain Publishing, hit the streets. It seems only fitting that this beast would arrive in such a powerful super moon year.
Blood and Rain was birthed from my love of the movies Silver Bullet and The Howling. I looked around, and for the most part, noticed tons of zombie and vampire fiction, but very little on the werewolf. Why? This is the best monster out there. I guess it wasn’t sexy enough. We all know how sex sells, right? Well, while there is very little sex in Blood and Rain, there is more than enough tension, atmosphere, and guts to go around. It will grab you by the throat from page one and not let go until the end.
Blood and Rain has received a ton of great praise. A fact that makes me smile. My horror brother, Hunter Shea, had this to say: Wow! Easily one of the best werewolf books I’ve ever read. So much gory fun. It starts off with a bang – or howl – and never lets up. If Six Flags made a werewolf ride, they would have to call it Blood and Rain.
In this beastly year, I am not alone.
The last quarter of 2015 is loaded with wolf tales. You have the great Jonathan Janz dropping Wolf Land (November 3rd, Samhain Publishing) next week. You have the wolf master himself, W.D. Gagliani, issuing Wolf’s Blind (December 1st, Samhain Publishing), the next in his excellent Nick Lupo series. And across the pond, we get High Moor 3 (October 27th, Horrific Tales Publishing) from England’s wolf king Graeme Reynolds.
The full moon fever is taking over. Get out there and howl! Oh, and grab these new books, too.
Blood and Rain, Synopsis
The light of a full moon reveals many secrets.
Gilson Creek, Maine. A safe, rural community. Summer is here. School is out and the warm waters of Emerson Lake await. But one man’s terrible secret will unleash a nightmare straight off the silver screen. Under the full moon, a night of terror and death re-awakens horrors long sleeping. Sheriff Joe Fischer, a man fighting for the safety of his daughter, his sanity and his community, must confront the sins of his past. Can Sheriff Fischer set Gilson Creek free from the beast hiding in its shadows, or will a small town die under a curse it can’t even comprehend? One night can-and will-change everything.
Find Glenn Rolfe at: http://glennrolfe.com/ as well as Facebook and Twitter.
Biography, Glenn Rolfe
Glenn Rolfe is an author, singer, songwriter and all around fun loving guy from the haunted woods of New England. He has studied Creative Writing at Southern New Hampshire University, and continues his education in the world of horror by devouring the novels of Stephen King and Richard Laymon. He and his wife, Meghan, have three children, Ruby, Ramona, and Axl. He is grateful to be loved despite his weirdness.
He is the author the novellas, Abram’s Bridge, Boom Town, and the forthcoming, Things We Fear (March, 2016), the short fiction collection, Slush, and the novels The Haunted Halls and Blood and Rain (October 2015). His first novella collection, Where Nightmares Begin, will be released in March, 2016.
He is hard at work on many more. Stay tuned!
Praise for Blood and Rain
“A major new talent rises from the Maine woods…Rolfe is the real deal, and Blood and Rain is a classic monster novel, full of blood and teeth and the kind of razor sharp writing that makes the pages sing. Small town horror is back, with a vengeance!” –Nate Kenyon, award-winning author of Sparrow Rock, Diablo: Storm of Light and Day One
“With slashing claws and blood-soaked fur, Blood and Rain will have you howling in terror and delight. A welcome addition to the werewolf mythos, and proof that we’re in the presence of a rising star in the genre. Highly recommended!” -Ronald Malfi, author of The Floating Staircase
“Rolfe tells a tale that captures your attention like King without all of the wordiness. He also spills the red stuff like Laymon…” – Into the Macabre
“Blood and Rain is a monumental piece of horror fiction. It represents everything I love about werewolves, creature features, siege films, and everything else in between. It is still early in the year, but this is a clear cut candidate for my favorite book of 2015.” — Horror Underground
“Wow! Easily one of the best werewolf books I’ve ever read.” – Hunter Shea, author of Tortures of the Damned and The Dover Demon
“Some good ‘ol fashion violence and gore…” – Jason Parent, author of Seeing Evil
“Glenn Rolfe takes a swing at the werewolf genre and hits a home run.” – Russell James, author of Q Island and Dreamwalker
“…not just another werewolf story, Rolfe has managed to take the werewolf to a-whole-nother level…” – Horror Novel Reviews
“The best werewolf novel I’ve read since Jeff Strand’s Wolf Hunt.”–Horror After Dark
“While Blood and Rain is exactly what the 39 year old adult me wanted, it is precisely what the 14 year old inner child needed.”- ZDubbz, The Mouths of Madness Podcast (I snuck this in as it’s not a part of the press packet 😉 I don’t belong in the league of names above me.)
Barnes & Noble
For a chance to win a print copy of Glenn Rolfe’s short story collection, Slush, or a chance to win your choice of any of his titles in e-book format, go to the link below for the Rafflecopter sign-up. Good luck! The print copy is only good for those in the United States. Questions can be referred to Erin Al-Mehairi, publicist, at hookofabook(at)hotmail(dot)com.
Stan Springs stared at the curse in the night sky. His curse. He clenched his jaw, and bit back the grunts that demanded release from within his sweat-covered body. His muscles tightened and took turns throwing fits. He could feel his heartbeat’s thunderous barrage at work inside his heaving chest. It was only a matter of minutes before the changes would come.
He ripped his gaze from the clouds, moved away from the window and knelt down next to the bed against the concrete wall. He slipped one shaky hand beneath the mattress and found the small incision he’d made when he first arrived at the institution. He had traded a guard, a heavyset fella by the name of Harold Barnes, his prized Ted Williams rookie card in exchange for a copy of the key. Parting with this gold mine had been necessary. Stan Springs had nothing else of value with which to barter. Harold trusted him enough to make the swap; he told Stan there were crazies here by the dozen, but he could tell that Stan was not one of them.
No, Harold, I’m something far worse.
Key in hand, Stan stepped to the unlocked door and cracked it open. The hallway was clear. He moved down the corridor, as stealthily as during his heydays working on the force in New York. Hearing footfalls ahead and to his left, he fell back and pressed his large frame against the custodial door. Hidden by the entryway’s shadow, he watched Nurse Collins—a tall, thin woman with a dark complexion—pass fifty feet from where he stood, before she disappeared into the nurses’ break room.
Barefoot and dressed in only a Red Sox T-shirt and his sleeping shorts, Stan made a break for the staircase across the hall. His breaths were coming faster now. If he didn’t hurry, he wouldn’t make it outside. He crept down the steps leading to the main hallway.
Through the small window on the stairwell door, he could see Harold Barnes’s haunted jowls illuminated by the laptop screen in front of him. The old man’s eyes were closed, his mouth open. Harold hadn’t even made it an hour into his shift before he was out. Stan knew Harold also ran his own antique shop in the neighboring town of Hallowell. He’d told Stan that working both jobs on the same day, which was sometimes unavoidable, made it difficult for him on the night shift. It was another shared nugget Stan had stored away for nights like this one—the nights the beast in him needed to get out.
Easing the door open, Stan skulked his way along the shadows on the wall, and tiptoed to the main entrance door. Despite the cramps now rampaging through his calves and thighs, he slipped the procured key into the lock, slow and steady. The door clicked open, and he stepped out into the night.
As the cool breeze brushed against the sweat of his brow, the tendons and bones in his face began to shift. The rest of his body followed suit. He dropped to one knee and cried out. His skin, his scalp, his eyes, his muscles were all too tight. He reached behind him and managed to push the door shut.
If you could see me now, Harold.
The private roads out front were deserted. He launched from the building’s stairs and landed on the lawn below, making a beeline for the woods to the left of the large property.
He was twenty feet from the forest when the change hit him like a massive wave, crashing him to the ground. His muscles clenched and squeezed and tore, while the bones of his face continued to crack and grow. His teeth began to fall out in place of the monster’s. Down on all fours, he crawled to the tree cover and vomited. A mix of last night’s cafeteria meat loaf, black coffee, loose teeth, and blood splashed the ferns before him. Stan’s fingers extended as his claws dug into the soft soil of spring’s floor. He moaned and grunted his way through the rest of the fluid process.
In full beast mode, Stan Springs stood and howled at the cloud-covered sky. The creatures of the night became ghosts among the trees. He felt the strength flowing through him and the hunger begging to be sated.
He burst forward, headed north. Despite Stan’s best effort to control the beast’s killing zone, he found himself heading home.