Underground Book Reviews

The Uncanny Valley was chosen as an underground favorite by UndergroundBookReviews.com!

From despair to hope... #Romance #Literary

Waiting On Hope
by T.M. Souders


She stepped to the ledge of the balcony, welcoming death—and the mercy it offered.
Three more steps and she would be free. One. Two.
The sudden bang on the door made Lexie jump. She stood, her toes curling over the cool, rough, concrete, only inches from the edge of descent.
Gripping the chair next to her, she tried to concentrate. She raised her arms straight out from her sides like an airplane. The morning air, cool on her skin, wrapped around her in a soft caress. She visualized the jump, the slap of wind on her face and in her hair. She didn’t flinch from the thought of the agony of impact, which may come before the blessed numbness. After all, she was no stranger to pain.
Opening her eyes, she glanced down at her feet. Without a railing, the unguarded slab of stone made for easy access to the waiting street below. She straightened her toes, no longer supported by the balcony.
The banging on the door persisted, making it hard for her to think. She tried to ignore the interruption, but the caller’s persistence made blocking out the sound impossible. Behind the pounding she heard a voice—one she recognized.
“Lexie, open up. Let me in. What the hell are you doing out there? You’re going to get yourself killed. Lex?” Sienna continued to call through the door.
Lexie glanced from the inside of her apartment back to the street below. Traffic loomed, along with the occasional pedestrian. She cursed Sienna for interfering. Why did she show up now?
All she needed was one more step, but the insistent banging outside her door thumped in the background of her mind, jarring the still thoughts of death from where they perched. She would have to wait.

What's not to love about vampires and rock stars? #Paranormal #Romance

Blood And Guitars
by Heather Jensen


I gazed back at him, his blue eyes blazing, and I had to resist the intense urge not to look away for the ridiculous fear that he’d see right through me. See the wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Then his lips were on mine and I lost myself, overwhelmed by the surge of Trey’s emotions as they flooded through me. I kissed him back wanting to forget my fear of being discovered, of putting him in danger, and focus only on how good it felt being in his arms. After all, relinquishing some control was a sacrifice worth making if it meant I could continue to live in this fantasy with Trey. But the dreaded tingling in my teeth started up again and I reluctantly pulled away. Trey closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, resting his forehead against mine. It was obvious he was trying to be patient with me.
“Trey, I…” I wanted to apologize but what could I say? I’m sorry but I’m afraid my fangs might freak you out. Oh, and by the way, my eyes sort of glow in the dark when I get excited. I hope you’re cool with that?
“It’s okay,” he breathed, resting his hand on mine over his heart. I wondered how long he would put up with me pulling away like this. It was selfish of me and dangerous for us both, but I wasn’t willing to give him up. I didn’t want to lose him, or the effect he had on my spirit. It was time to accept the truth. I was falling in love with Trey.

Twelve For 12 - A dozen dark stories come in if you dare.... #Short Stories #Horror

Twelve For 12
by Thomas Mackay King:
Twelve short stories that consider the darker side of life, murder,suicide,child abduction, no pink fluffy happy endings in here, well maybe one!

The perfect, precise, acute scalpel was on its way to penetrate my unsullied, unblemished, virginal skin, I erupted with one more silent scream, but my hell had commenced, the razor sharp surgical tool had sliced across my lower abdomen with barbarous efficiency, my nerves lay quiescent as the deep gouge opened my body to expose my infected innards.

Kidnapped #MysterySuspense #YA

Kidnapped at the Midnight Sun
by Lisa Hall Deckert

“Oh my God, Nali, this says that somebody has Tori,” Kara said. “What if they hurt her? What if they already hurt her? Oh my God, what if they kill her? What are we going to do?”
I felt just as panicky as Kara did, but I tried to act calm. “Take a breath, Kara. Coach Kim is on her way up. The note is for her.”
Kim arrived quickly. “What is this all about? Did I hear you say kidnapped?”
“Look, here is the note,” I said. “Wait, don’t touch it!”
It was too late. Kim had already picked up the paper.

We have VicTorIA.
No Police and she won’T
be harmed. Tell no One.
InSTRUCTionS to FOllOw.

One woman's quest for tail-wagging joy starts with a shock at the vet's office #Comedy

What the Dog Ate
by Jackie Bouchard


The vet handed Maggie Baxter a plastic specimen bag containing a pair of size-tiny, lavender thong panties extracted from her dog; but they were not hers. Or rather, they were hers now since she’d just paid $734 to have Dr. Carter surgically remove them from Kona’s gut.

She’d come home late the previous night from a three-day conference. When she crawled into bed, Dave had muttered hello, but was snoring again within the minute.

Then, this morning, she’d awakened to the muted foghorn sounds of Kona heaving. As she’d hurried down the hall to the living room, knowing that was where the chocolate Lab would be, she wondered two things: how could Dave sleep through that horrid noise; and why, in a house ninety percent floored with hardwood and tile, did the dog always throw up on the carpet?

She’d made it in time and pushed the big brown dog out back. Standing stiff-legged on the lawn, he had heaved several more times but nothing came up. When she’d offered him breakfast and he wouldn’t even look at it, she’d known a vet visit would be on the day’s agenda.

Giving the waitress a hard time. . . #Comedy #MysterySuspense

Brett Aerobicizes
by David D. D'Aguanno


Sure enough, when our Chinese waitress came over to take our orders a few minutes later, Marilyn ordered some weird concoction with noodles, and then Tyler did the same – how cute! – and he even offered to split an order of chicken wings with her. Next, Ginger opened her mouth to place her order, and I quickly cut in, saying,
“Bring me an order of beef teriyaki, chicken fried rice, the horseshoe duck –“
“Wor shu,” the waitress cut in with.
“God bless you!” I said back to her, my infectious charm obviously at its considerable peak.

The Truth About Robots (Androlibras) #ScienceFiction #Horror

Bone Machine
by CN James


A crowd of Haitian men stood over one of the Androlibras, looking down at it, obscuring what was going on. Then two of the men picked it up off the floor and carelessly plunked it down on the workstations that formed a sort of communal desk in the center of the room. Grayson could hear the men cheering. He watched as they raised their hands in victory.
One of the men stood with his back to the camera, and judging from the motions, it appeared as though he was trying to tug the head of the robot off. Someone handed him a knife, and Grayson could clearly see him cutting through the small tubes near the back of the neck. After the first tube was cut, the man repositioned himself, giving the camera a clear view. Grayson watched a white liquid gushed from the severed tube, as the man worked the knife against the second tube.
He cut it through and repositioned himself in front of the camera again. But Grayson could see just enough to know that the man was tugging and pulling at the head as the crowed encouraged him with an eerie sounding chant. The moment almost felt ritualistic, as if Grayson was watching some kind of documentary or had intruded on a private ceremony.
Finally, the man succeeded. Grayson watched as the man recoiled and took a few cautious steps, backing away from the Androlibra. At first, the crowd cheered and several men started dancing around the room. Then the mood shifted abruptly. The celebration stopped. The small mob went silent. The man with the Androlibra head finally moved out of the camera’s view, and there, in the middle of the room, the Androlibra slowly began to rise.

Diary of a Teenage Serial Killer #Thriller #MysterySuspense

Diary of a Teenage Serial Killer
by Jem Fox


“I have some questions for you about the geek.”

Unlike the thugs I’d been dealing with, Marcus had a fully functioning brain. He got on the same page quick. He didn’t pretend he didn’t know who I was talking about.

“How’d you find me?”

“Well, Marcus, that was fairly easy. I called the pizza places on campus and asked them if they had a customer who was a really fat guy on the young side. There were two of you, and the other guy didn’t have seven computers.”

He sputtered.

“It’s hard to go underground when you weigh 400 pounds, Marcus. That’s why they’ll have to bury you in a piano case.”

Could Kaitlyn be the last native Earthling left? #ScienceFiction #YA

Alone I Walk
by Julie Wenzel


I would like to start off by saying that I wore the ugliest shirt I owned that day. And for that, I felt uncomfortable in my own skin. I'm not a fashionista by any means, but I do like to look at least half ways put together.

It wasn't that I was running late for class and grabbed the wrong shirt. I didn't even show up for class that day.

The problem was the washing machine...again.

I had the quarters. I went to the campus store, bought a notebook and a box of pens, and then asked the cashier to give me five dollars worth of quarters while she was at it.

But, like any other typical day there was an “Out of Order” sign written in faded marker on a notebook piece of paper, across the machine.

So at the end of my washing machine production, wearing my ugly shirt, with a pocket full of quarters, I missed my parents all the more. College wasn't the easiest thing in the world. It wasn't the classes, or making friends. It was the homesickness. I missed the home cooked meals.

As a kid, I took the washing machine in our house for granted. Laundry detergent and fabric softener always magically appeared the next day when we ran out.

I missed how my dad would fill my car up with gas every time I ran low in high school. For a while in my life, I was able to pretend that the world was a happy place. Sure there were bad in the world, but it was comforting to know my parents would be there for me.

Problem was, no one was there to take care of my parents.

I entered this world covered in blood. #HistoricalFiction #Fantasy

The War Master's Daughter
by Elly Zupko


“This could not go on, Abern. A soldier is a part of the machine that is the unit. A unit is part of the machine that is the army. One soldier refusing to function can bring down her unit by simply neglecting the duties of her rank. But more than neglect, Borodin had put herself in a position to lead by example and was on the eve of bringing down the entire unit. We are at war, Abern, and this was treason.
“At first I beat her, then progressed to the cat. But I soon realized this would not solve my problem. Abern . . . you know intimately my passion for carnal justice. Messy deaths prove points. Blood stains prompt memories when time would fade the lessons. However, in the field we kill treasonous soldiers by breaking their necks. This is so no blood spills on their uniforms, because those uniforms can be worn by others. We waste nothing in the pursuit of the good of the whole.
“She screamed as I came to her.” Cashel sighed ruefully. “The weak ones always scream.”
Before Abern’s eyes, the room began to spin. He searched, wildly scanning the room. Found nothing.
“Sir, allow me to light the lamp.” He began to cough uncontrollably. “Please, Cashel. You needn’t do this. . . . Cashel, I held you as a baby.”
“Then you know more than any that I entered this world covered in blood, and I feel no remorse at my role in it. Farewell, Mr. Abern. It is for the good of the whole.”
Abern took his last breath and did not have time to exhale before the pillow was over his face, and his lungs gave out, his brain gave out, his heart gave out, and he was dead.

History is never quite as real as when it is told by those who lived it #NonFiction

World War ll London Blitz Diary Volume 2 (of 4)
by Ruby Side Thompson
(Victoria Washuk - Author Rep and Editor)

Monday, January 6, 1941
Bardia has fallen. The news was received in London late last night. Prisoners captured exceed twenty five thousand including six generals. To the Australians go the first honors, for they led the attack. The Italians are crumbling fast, making Hitler’s first broken prop. The axis is now wobbly. Hitler gave London another bombardment last night. The alert was given about six o’clock, and the all clear came just before midnight. We have not been told yet what damage they did last night.

Sunday, January 19, 1941
Last Sunday night London received another bad bombing. One high explosive went down the escalator shaft at the Bank Station. All the people on it killed, of course, and all the people in the station. To make horrors worse, a train was just coming into the station, and the force of the blast blew all the people on the platform on to the lines, so they were killed by electricity, and then run over. They were unrecognizable. As for the debris, it isn’t all cleared away yet, and there are still many bodies not dug out yet. It is impossible to count the dead. The night shelter people were there, as well as travelers, the number must be many hundreds, perhaps a thousand. This is modern war, damnable hellish war.

Time traveller mistaken for runaway slave in Roman Empire #YA #HistoricalFiction

The Green Bronze Mirror

by Lynne Ellison

She could have sworn that they
were Romans, exactly like the ones pictured in 'Roman Britain'
which she read in school last term, but the idea was so impossible
that she tried to dismiss it. How could there be Romans in this day
and age? Unless... unless the mirror had taken her back-about two
thousand years. But that was preposterous. Perhaps the men were
just part of some sort of advertising gimmick. Still, that didn't
explain the disappearance of the castle. Maybe the men would
explain that to her. She'd ask them.
She stood up and faced them resolutely, waiting for them to
come level with her.
The officer saw her first.
'Halt!' he bellowed, and beckoned imperiously to Karen. 'Come
here!'
Karen stood before him, feeling rather foolish in her shorts and
striped T-shirt. What if they really were Romans? And if they
were, how on earth had she been able to understand what he said?
'Who are you and what are you doing here?' asked the officer,
in a tone which implied that he wanted a prompt and businesslike
answer.
'N-nothing,' said Karen, trying to think what to say. 'Only
taking a walk: Golly! she thought. I think they must be real
Romans. She wondered with a growing sense of panic how she
could explain that she was from the twentieth century. The man
stared at her suspiciously from under thick black brows.
'Only taking a walk, are you? Where are you from?' Karen shut
her mouth defiantly. 'I won't tell you!' This was the easiest way of
getting out of it.
'Oh? And why not? You wouldn't be a runaway slave, would
you? If you were, you'd not tell me, naturally. But there are ways
and means.'

A mystery in only 100 words? #Short Stories #MysterySuspense

Cops, Crooks & Other Stories in 100 Words: 101 Tales

By Mark S. Bacon

Each entry in this book is a complete story, usually with a protagonist, a challenge and an unexpected resolution. Here's one sample:

On the House

Starting her workday baking before sunrise always made Sophie’s concentration sag by 9 a.m., but looking across the counter at a gun barrel got her immediate attention.

“Gimme the money,” the gunman said.

Sophie glanced over the man’s shoulder, moved toward the cash register--then ducked.

The cop standing behind the robber threw him against the counter, while another officer grabbed the gun.

“You gotta be the dumbest crook I ever met,” said the first cop. “Okay, maybe you didn’t see our car in the lot, but really….”

“Thanks, Kelly,” said Sophie. “From now on, doughnuts are on the house.”

Master Capolitu selecting Tarlok as an acolyte of the Brotherhood of Warlocks #Fantasy

The Brotherhood Of Piaxia

by Michael Drakich


“Yes, I seem to recall now. Hmm, the last time I saw you, you were no more than a young boy running through the streets with the other urchins plaguing our alleys.”
“That might have been me sir, but as you can see, I have reached the age of ascension and am ready.”
“Ready you say. I decide who is ready. Still, there can be no doubt you possess the mana necessary.”
Master Capolidu paused, as if lost in thought then glanced at Avradiman and winked.
In the next instant the old man began a charade of wild gestures and loud pronouncements. “What do we have here? An aura so bright that I am near blinded by the sight of it!” He drew a large circle around the boy. “I am surprised that such an aura even exists! What is your name again, lad?”
“I am Tarlok, noble Master, son of Jurg.”
“Tarlok, son of Jurg, you say. I know a Jurg, a great fellow, commander of the guard, and his son Savan, a captain in the same guard. Surely you are not his son as well, are you?”
“The very one, Master. My father and brother are well known and they bring me great pride.”
“Well, won’t they be the proud ones when they learn of your acceptance into the Brotherhood as this year’s apprentice! Let it be marked in the records that I, Master Capolidu, select Tarlok, son of Jurg, brother of Savan, as my choice for the twenty-fourth year in the glorious reign of Lord Ramtok!”

Bad Luck Officer Suziy Ivy Hits the Streets #NonFiction #MysterySuspense

Bad Luck Officer

by Suzie Ivy (known as Princess Cop to her grandchildren)

Against all odds, at age forty-five, Suzie Ivy graduated from the police academy. Now, her life as the first female officer in Small Town, Arizona begins. From pink handcuffs to a shotgun named The Rock (Rock Hudson), life in Small Town will never be the same. Bad Luck Officer takes you for a joy ride as Suzie works her first two “cop” years on the streets. Bulls, bad guys and humor will get her through the career of her dreams and prove, dreams really do come true.

This is the true-life adventure of a woman faced with a midlife crisis and empty nest syndrome. There are no tears in baseball but there are hidden tears in law enforcement when Suzie Ivy is on the case. Her expandable baton is bigger than your bat.

The truth hurts, but the lies could flat out kill him. #MysterySuspense #Comedy

Battle Axe

by Bill Cokas


“Interesting,” Ruby nodded, grateful for some geographic information. “What region?”

“Bad Sulzbach,” he said. “It must be very small—I couldn’t find it anywhere on my map.” He jerked a thumb at the far wall, on which hung a massive topographic map of central Europe, with Germany more brightly colored than the surrounding countries.

“Any other names or references that would help us narrow down the writer?” she said, turning to the next page of notes.

“Not that I could see,” Konrad said. “If you ask me, she wanted your client to know about where he came from, but not how to get there.”

“Well, Konrad, that makes about as much sense as skid marks in a urinal,” Ruby said in a scolding tone.

An inexpressive warrior must find a way to bring fire to his home and his heart. May cause your kindle to combust. #Fantasy #Romance

City of Blaze

by H. O. Charles


She noticed how her footfalls reverberated around the tunnel while his did not. How did such a tall man walk with no sound at all? There must be something special about his boots, she decided. They reached the gate where Morghiad took the key from her hand, sending the usual flow of sparks and flame through her limbs. She still hadn’t quite become accustomed to it, and was increasingly frustrated at Morghiad’s utter lack of reaction.

“Stay.” He held his hand up at her and then proceeded through the gate. She could see through its iron rails that he was making straight for the cloak, now dangling limply from the cell door. The cloak shuddered and waved suddenly. It was still being held tightly by the prisoner, who was evidently proud of his prize and unable to pull it through the hole in the door. With startling speed, Morghiad snatched the prisoner’s arm and thrust it downwards. From beyond the cell door the arm’s owner screamed and released the cloak, which Morghiad caught neatly. The prisoner withdrew his arm into the cell door, whimpering quietly. Upon silent feet, the kahr returned to Artemi with the reclaimed cloak and handed it to her.

“Thank you,” she uttered. Then, “Did you break his arm?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
“Probably. You’d better hope they don’t talk.” He locked the gate, gave her the key and walked on. The man was inhuman! Did he have no sensibilities at all? What was to stop him from snapping her neck if she angered him? She decided to keep a little more distance behind him.

Traitor Among Friends #Satire #Short Stories

Speed Bump

by James G. Bruen, Jr.


"Gentlemen," began Tony Underwood, "I believe one of us is a traitor."
The dimly lit room in the row house basement became eerily still. No one spoke. No one lifted a beer mug. No one cut a piece of cheese or pulled a chunk of bread off a loaf.
"Our potholes have been filled in three times during the last two weeks," Underwood continued eventually. "We dig them out again only to have them refilled the very next night. I believe one of us is trying to frustrate our plan to slow speeding cars. One of us wants to drive more than he values our neighborhood, so he's smoothing Oak Street. I've asked Joe Daniels and Ed Lacovic to stand sentinel tonight. They'll catch him."
"If we're all here except Daniels and Lacovic," asked Pete Ander, "how are they going to catch him?"
"And if one of us is a traitor," inquired Sean O'Reilly, "why did you tell us your plan to catch him? Now he knows your plan."
Stunned, Underwood slumped to the floor, mumbling, "I hadn't thought of that."
The first floor door to the basement flew open and slammed against a kitchen table. Shouts, muffled voices, and thumps on walls resonated from the stairway leading to the basement where the men turned as one towards the landing at the bottom of the stairway, straining to see who was causing the clamor.
A black-hooded figure stumbled from the landing, pushed into the gathering by two escorts who had hustled him down the stairs. He sprawled face down on the floor next to a bug-eyed Underwood. The other men sprung on the hooded figure; he struggled mightily but they pinned him quickly.
"Traitor!" exclaimed Underwood.

Agents of Change - Espionage with a twist! #ScienceFiction #MysterySuspense

Agents of Change

by Guy Harrison


Protagonist Calvin Newsome is being interrogated after trespassing on school grounds with the ID of a teenage girl whose identity he earlier assumed...

“Read me her name, maybe that’ll help you remember.”
“I don’t know who she is.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not. I—”
“Read the girl’s name. That's not a suggestion.”
I look the man in the eye and gulp before opening my mouth. “Jenny Cooper.”
“That’s right,” he says, nodding his head as he bites his lower lip. “Jenny Cooper. You remember what happened to her, don’t you?”
I shake my head.
“Found dead in Pennypack Creek three years ago. Blunt-force trauma to the head, cracked orbital bone, broken leg. Scuffmarks on her bike that made it look like an accident. Tell me; is that the price for saying no these days?”
“No!” I say. “You think I killed her?”
He shrugs. “The evidence doesn’t lie.”
I can feel my face radiating as my arteries and veins pound the walls of my neck. I damn near faint as I sit back in my chair, letting the detective’s words reverberate in my mind. I’ve been set up...by way of human error, I think. I don’t believe an organization as benevolent as the Agency of Influence would go to such elaborate lengths to see to it that Jenny Cooper’s death—which, by all accounts, appeared to have been a cold case—was pinned on me.
The detective clears his throat. “I’ll give you credit...the marks on the bike, the absence of DNA...you covered your tracks.”
“But it’s just an ID,” I say, my eyes fixed on the card instead of the man.
“Unless you have one helluva story, it’s all we need.” He leans forward and places his interlocked hands on the table. “C’mon. Just admit it.”