october 2014

Octobers Authors spotlight has graced us with the pleasure of a nice , nasty little piece and interview from the beautiful and talented K.z. Morano. I hope you enjoy this as much as i have!!!

Necro Stein -Tell the readers where you reside if you will.

K. z. Morano- I currently live in the Philippines.

NS- Who is your biggest influence in the literary world?

Kz - Clive Barker’s earlier works taught me that there is no limit to the horror genre. He’s a true master in pairing the grotesque with the gorgeous, the revolting with the arousing.

NS- Who would you most compare your work to?

Kz -I’m not sure if it’s possible to attempt to compare my work to others’. My style varies from project to project. I enjoy mixing genres as much as I love playing with words. I entered this business knowing that the surest way to fail is to imitate another author’s voice. I’m still struggling to find my own voice but I’d like to think that I’m being 100% me. :)

NS- What do you like to do to just unwind and have a good time?

Kz -Well, I’m a beach bum and a bibliophile. I love food and cooking -- exploring new dishes and sampling exotic cuisine. I usually prepare my food from scratch. I’m a big grandma’s girl so I’d usually pick her up and then we’d get our nails done and stuff. :) I used to go out every night and drink a lot but I’ve changed (for the better). I guess I’m a pretty complicated person. I like a lot of stuff. I enjoy staying at home and watching old black and white Hollywood movies just as I much as I enjoy travelling and discovering new places. Sometimes, nothing makes me happier than to just get away for a while… to hide up in the mountains at the hot spring with no worries and no Wi-Fi. I live from mood to mood – if that makes any sense.

Oh, and shopping… I love shopping.

NS - hahaha, nice add in there!

NS- To date what is your most compelling tale, whether it be a poem or story, and why?

Kz- It’s hard-- almost impossible-- to pick favorites but I think my most compelling story to date is my current WIP. After releasing a book of 100 micro-fiction pieces, I challenged myself to write more stories in the traditional length. Some are expanded versions of my 100-word tales. My latest untitled piece is a strange and emotional tale which explores teenage angst and unusual father-daughter relationships. I wrote 50 words. I think it’s shaping up pretty well. ;)

NS- Tell the readers a little bit about how the story featured came to fruition...for instance how much meaning is behind them?

Kz- Sex and Stainless Steel reflects real world horror. I divided the tale into two parts and deliberately used a lot of repetition in this piece. It was my intention to point out that the roles of predator and prey can easily be reversed at any moment, depending on the circumstances. I suppose we all have it in us—the capacity to become either the hunter or the hunted—and that it’s merely a question of which one will you be today.

NS- How do you feel about the amount of material out today to read thanks to self-promotion?

Kz- The reason why I chose the self-publishing route for 100 Nightmares was because I wanted to be present in all the different phases– to experience all the pleasures and pains of publishing the book. I wanted to be a part of every process from its conception to its distribution. As a newbie author, there were things that I needed to learn about publishing and marketing and I do believe that I’ve made the right choice.

The ease and convenience of self-publishing is both a gift and a curse. Self-publishing made it possible for us to discover new authors, explore new genres, and read fresh and original material. It gives every author a fair chance to reach his/ her readers. However, the temptation to publish crap is great. That is why I urge fellow indie authors to help support independent publishing and fellow writers by maintaining the quality of their work. Hire a professional editor. Get a nice cover. Place quality above quantity. Respect your readers and other hard-working self-published authors and at the same time, allow yourselves to create something that you can truly be proud of.

With the amount of poorly written books out there, honest reviews become more and more significant. That is why I’m very grateful for those who took the time to write a review for 100 Nightmares and the other anthologies that feature my stories.

NS- Having read 100 Nightmares and finding it brilliant, how did you come up with the idea for that style?

Kz-I’ve always been passionate about micro-fiction. I’ve been posting 100-word stories on my blog for quite some time. My stories have been published in various publications but I’ve always wanted a solo project-- something that I can call my own and something that would truly represent me as a writer.

I love fiction collections because they enable me to gauge a particular author’s writing style and versatility. I figured 100 Nightmares would be a great way to introduce myself as an author. I wanted to create a book that can offer the readers an eclectic assortment of every imaginable horror that exists-- from real world horrors to the extremely bizarre. I wanted to provide readers with a means to entertain themselves through these quick but intense reads. They can pick up the book during short breaks or whenever they need a jolt of horror.

But more than that, I wanted readers to be able to appreciate micro-fiction as a form of art. To tell a complete story-- to build a whole world, to create conflict, and to breathe life to characters in exactly 100 words… it kind of forces a writer to give his/her best. Every single word matters. That’s why I suggest that instead of reading the stories in one sitting, one should sit back and reflect on each piece.

It was all that, plus I had a blast writing the stories and compiling the illustrations for this collection. It was something that I just had to do. :)

NS-How do you feel the success of it has been?

Kz- I’m quite pleased with the reception of my debut collection. I’ve received great reviews from readers and horror book review sites. I’m very grateful for the bloggers, book reviewers, and friends who helped spread the word about my book. I only hope that my next project gets even half as much love as 100 Nightmares. Releasing the collection has also allowed me to learn important lessons on self-publishing. But what I cherish the most is the fact that I was able to meet some wonderful new people-- readers, interviewers, reviewers, and fellow authors-- through 100 Nightmares.

NS- Who are a few of your favorite authors?

Kz- I like authors who are able to make the disgusting seem desirable. I adore Edgar Allan Poe, H.P. Lovecraft, Clive Barker, and Neil Gaiman. They’re the authors who made me fall in love with horror in the first place.

NS- Who did you grow up idolizing?

Kz- I used to read a lot of romance novels. My mom and I didn’t have a normal relationship but she did have a very impressive library. As a result, I was able to get to know her through her books. I read them all—the books that she read and the ones that she didn’t. I read a lot of romance and erotic novels when I was a kid. I picked up any book with an intriguing cover. (and by intriguing, I meant provocative titles and half-naked men and women lol) Some of the stuff that I read about was way too advanced for me but I was a pretty sharp and curious kid. :) I would look at the photographs/ portraits of the authors at the end of each book and say to myself: Someday, that’s going to be me. I didn’t even start writing fiction until a little more than a year ago. But I guess I always knew that I was going to be a writer.

NS- What can we expect from Miss K.Z. MORANO in the future?

KZz- I haven’t had enough time to write new stuff but a few of my stories will be appearing in various forthcoming horror anthologies. I’ve been invited to submit a piece for my very first bizarro horror anthology and the book will be released this fall. I enjoyed writing my story for this collection and I’m really excited and proud to be featured together with very talented authors in the genre. I’m also envisioning my next solo project but I’m not in a hurry. :)

NS- Any favorite horror movies? How do they affect your writing if at all?

Kz- I always say that I don’t watch too many horror films because my imagination is way too active and I have not yet fully outgrown my childhood fears. haha (weird for someone who writes horror, I know) But looking back, I realize that I’ve watched quite a lot of horror films. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been exposed to Filipino horror movies which usually feature vengeful spirits and mythical monsters.

I saw Bram Stoker’s Dracula when I was a kid. I saw part of the trailer when I was too young to watch it. I had no idea who Gary Oldman was and his face terrified me. When I was finally old enough to be able to watch the movie, I just fell in love with it (and with Gary Oldman). I had no idea that horror could be so beautiful.

I also have a thing for old movies and Rosemary’s Baby (1968) is one of those films that I can watch over and over.

The horror movie that screwed me up was The Blair Witch Project. Some say that it was a lousy film but it had a strong effect on me because I was just a kid then. During that time, I was staying at my uncle’s in California and my older cousins made me watch it. My uncle’s home was located in the suburbs and when I looked out the window, there were trees and stuff! That was when I started sleeping with the lights on… I find that I’m more afraid of what I DON’T see on the screen as opposed to what they do show on screen.

At times, the same goes for writing. Sometimes, the stuff that you deliberately leave out can be twice as powerful as the stuff that you describe in full detail.

SEX AND STAINLESS STEEL

by: K.Z. Morano

PART I: PREY

The tourist split the callboy’s butt cheeks open and stuffed the well-oiled ass with his rigid cock… The young man’s wounded whimpering excited him. It reminded him of the virgin whore he purchased from another island. He smiled at the memory of the girl whose face he could no longer recall… He wasn’t in the habit of remembering his victims’ faces. It’s better if he just thought of them as meat. But he remembered the taste of her cunt on his tongue—salty-sweet and succulent… He remembered the titillating sound of her animal shrieks as he dragged the knife across her soft, yielding flesh. It’s only been a couple of months since his last kill but it felt like almost a lifetime ago. He concentrated his thoughts on the pleasurable task at hand. The boy’s ass was perfection, tender and juicy, just the way he liked it… a nice golden brown… the smooth, sun-kissed skin a startling contrast against his pale and hairy thighs.

He couldn’t help it. Walking through the squalid streets of the red light district was like strolling through a massive market of mystery meat. You just never know what you’re going to get. There’s a wide variety of flesh for sale. He liked them young, fresh, freelance and easy to fool. Most guys don’t give a damn about what the kids needed the money for-- whether it was for their next tuition, their next meal, or their next fix... But he did. He cared very much. He liked them desperate and destitute.

He believed that if you must lead a lamb to the slaughter, you mustn’t let it see the blade. First, he would buy them dinner. He’d engage them in friendly conversation. Then he’d slip something into their drinks. He preyed on petite girls and lady boys with their fragile birdlike bones… He liked hearing the sweet snapping sound of their small skeleton as he held them down with his gargantuan fists. He liked hearing them beg… pathetic pleas in fragmented English that soon swell into high-pitched screams in their native tongue. Their tears and their alien gibberish aroused him.

His secluded transient home was their temporary prison. During daytime, he would do whatever it was that normal tourists did. He walked along the immaculate beach, went diving and zorbing, took photographs, explored exotic cuisine, purchased abaca hats and I LOVE PHILIPPINES t-shirts, and watched in awe as the horizon bled in its glorious sunset. At night, he would come home to his victims to force upon them all manners of perversions. Prior to any sexual activity, he would starve them for 48 hours and force fluids to help flush the system. Cleanliness mattered to him. Sometimes, it was necessary to administer a tap water enema to get rid of impacted feces. He liked going in deep.

He let out a low bestial growl as he rammed himself deeper into the young man’s flesh. The lube had started to dry, making the squeeze seem tighter. He licked his lips, tasting the briny sweat that trickled down his face. As he felt the familiar feeling of fullness at the tip of his cock, he fumbled for the knife, preparing to pull his penis out and to ram the blade into the boy’s asshole.

It was uncommon for him to achieve full satisfaction before he mutilated his partner’s genitals. But then something unexpected happened. He felt his prey’s buttocks rise eagerly to meet his thrusts. He felt the snug flesh clench and unclench around his cock. When the boy groaned, it was a sound of pleasure; when the thin body writhed beneath him, it wasn’t in pain.

Then, his own body betrayed him. His breaths turned into labored wheezing, low and rasping. A spastic shiver travelled through his spine. He managed to pull out just as he was about to come… A guttural curse left his lips as he began to ejaculate in short spasmodic spurts. He watched, mesmerized, as his semen spilled, white and warm all over the brown butt cheeks and the pink puckered hole.

His rapture was soon replaced by an enormous pain as he felt scrawny fingers and pointed nails dig deep into his balls. The pain was sharp, shooting up his lower abdomen, causing him to double over. He felt the knife being snatched away from his lax fingers and then his head exploded in a brilliant white light.

PART II: PREDATOR

It sucks being poor in a third-world country. It’s hard to earn some decent cash-- whether it’s for our next tuition, our next meal, or our next fix... Our only consolation is the booming state of tourism and the fact that it brings in a steady stream of johns…

It’s a sad thing to admit but my friends and I have developed a taste for a certain lifestyle. We can’t help it. Walking through the squalid streets of the red light district is like strolling through a massive market of mystery meat. You just never know what you’re going to get. There’s a wide variety of flesh available.

I’m neither desperate nor destitute, but I like to pretend that I am. I believe that if you must lead a lamb to the slaughter, you mustn’t let it see the blade. It’s risky business. Sometimes, you end up with a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

That’s what that last tourist was—a predator posing as prey. I knew. And I was fine with it. People like me prefer lone travelers who go on secret vacations, foreigners who use phony names and fake IDs… people who have something to hide. Chances are no one’s going to come here looking for them.

I kept the son of a bitch for 48 hours with no food… just plenty of water to purge his body of wastes and toxins. Cleanliness matters to me. I inserted the greased tip of the rubber tube into his ass and administered a tap water enema to cleanse his colon of any left-over shit. After that, I shoved a funnel into his mouth and force-fed him with mashed overripe bananas. I found that doing so adds a certain sweet flavor to the meat.

As I did this, my stomach snarled. His tears and his alien gibberish stirred my appetite.

On the day of the slaughter, he squealed like the pig that he was. I inserted meat hooks into each of his ankles and hung him upside down. Large plastic buckets were placed underneath him to catch the blood and the trimmings. I severed his carotid arteries, slicing around his neck, delighting in the almost orgasmic sensation as the stainless steel slid through skin and sinew. Then I grasped his head on either side and twisted it off. I hewed off the cervical vertebra with a cleaver to decapitate him fully.

Using a shorter knife, I proceeded to flaying his body, keeping the blade as close and parallel to the skin as possible. I hummed a happy tune as the steel cut through connective tissue. Then I kept the skin to be deep-fried in fat and made to human chicharron, crispy rinds—a great appetizer. I cut off his balls and his penis. I had no interest in keeping them. Like his chopped innards, they would be used as pig feeds.

Disemboweling the carcass, now that’s the tricky part. I cut around his anus and tied it with a string. I was very careful not to puncture the intestines so as to prevent the bacteria and the bitter soup of his guts from marinating his flesh and ruining its flavor. I maneuver cautiously along the abdominal cavity, sharp edge facing toward me. Then I made an incision across the public bone then pulled out his organs. After completely eviscerating the bastard’s corpse, I washed his meat meticulously. Then I carved up his arms and his thighs, reserving the beautifully marbled meats for steaks and fillets. His plump belly was to be made into home-cured bacon.

The sisig is a favorite Filipino dish. The sizzling specialty is normally made from pig’s facial skin—mainly the cheeks, the snout and the ears. For my own special version, I boiled his head in water and pineapple juice until tender. After cooling, I carved off his face—the features were still frozen in the ecstasy of horror-- and chopped his ears and the skin mask into tiny pieces. In a large skillet, I sautéed garlic, ginger, and shallots then added the slices of facial skin. I threw in some chili peppers, seasoned the dish with soy sauce and then squeezed some calamansi fruit juice for a bit of a citrus kick. A couple of friends came over and I told the whole story to my eager audience over sisig and a few bottles of cheap beer. I showed my buddies to the freezer and let each of them take home a couple kilos of meat. I didn’t mind sharing. That’s just how we roll. And there was plenty of meat to go around. But of course, I kept the best part for myself.

On one particularly special night, I thawed his frozen behind and cooked it in the same way that I would roast a duck, lovingly basting the meat in its own juices. Before putting the meat in the oven, I split his butt cheeks open and stuffed the well-oiled ass with herbs and spices. Then I packed it with strips of bacon made from a previous client’s belly. I smiled at the memory of the lonely fat widow whose face I could no longer recall. The clingy Caucasian matrona was a generous tipper but I’m not in the habit of remembering my victims’ faces. It’s better if I just think of them as meat. But I remembered the taste of her cooked cunt on my tongue— salty-sweet and succulent… I remembered the titillating sound of her animal shrieks as I dragged the knife across her soft, yielding flesh.

It’s only been a couple of months since my last kill but it felt like almost a lifetime ago. I concentrated my thoughts on the pleasurable task at hand. The tourist’s caramelized ass was perfection, tender and juicy, just the way he liked it… a nice golden brown. I threw in some choice home-grown shallots and added some more water for the gravy.

END

Reviews of some of her works

100 Nightmares

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