Here’s what you gotta do:

We want a zombie story from you. It has to be completely original, and be no longer than 500 words. Here’s a good article to help get you familiarized with flash fiction if you’re new to it.

Type it up, put it into the body of an email message (along with your name), and send it to: corey AT midnightcorey DOT com. Please put “Zombie Flash Fiction Contest” in the subject line.

All the entries will be read by Eric S. Brown and David Dunwoody, and they will decide on the top three stories.

The prizes:

• First Place: Bigfoot War by Eric S. Brown; Empire (first edition, signed) by David Dunwoody
• Second Place: How the West Went to Hell (signed) by Eric S. Brown; UNBOUND & Other Tales (signed) by David Dunwoody
• Third Place: Kinberra Down (signed) by Eric S. Brown and Jessy Marie Roberts

The three winners will also be read on an upcoming episode of Midnight Corey’s podcast.

The deadline:

Your entries must be received by 11:59pm on July 4, 2010. Say happy birthday to America by writing a 500-word zombie gorefest!

The contest has officially begun, so start writing! Multiple submissions are allowed (in separate emails, please), but please limit to 3 entries per person.

A huge thank you goes out to Eric S. Brown and David Dunwoody for offering their books and judging expertise!

Order your copy from CreateSpace or Amazon, or check out the official web site.

I saved my progress on the computer and went downstairs. Evening had already come, and I desperately wanted to focus on my work – I needed to get ahead so I could justify leaving town for a couple days to visit my brother in the next state.

I figured the cat had eaten something she shouldn’t have. A year ago, I brought a new plant to the house, unaware that it was poisonous to cats. She chewed on a stalk of it and spent the night at the animal hospital. All I could hope for this time was that she wouldn’t throw up on the carpet – that was horrible to clean up.

Rounding the corner to the kitchen, I stopped when I saw her white and gray stripes in the middle of the room. She buried her face in the rug under the table, her sides pumping in and out as her breathing accelerated.

Crouching down, I whistled to her. “Jasmine, come here girl.”

She took no notice, letting out another pitiful moan.

I whistled again with the same result. I moved closer to her, but hesitated – Jasmine could get downright vicious when feeling threatened, annoyed, or sick. One second she’d be purring on your lap, and the next she’d tear into your arm with her teeth. The scars on my hands were a testament to the battles we’d fought.

This was one of those situations: she didn’t want to be bothered. But I reached for her anyway, wanting to move her off of the rug. She spun around, baring her teeth in a wide-eyed hiss, the hair on her back standing on end. I flinched at the wild look – I’d never seen her that angry before.

That’s when I began to think I had lost my mind. Too much work that week; too many long days; not nearly enough sleep.

The cat grew. Jasmine had weighed a healthy ten pounds, but her size more than doubled right in front of me. Joints popped and bones adjusted to accommodate her new girth. Her ears grew longer, and two small bloody horns erupted from her forehead. New teeth pushed through her gums and her jaw expanded to accommodate them, creating a jagged smile. Another more menacing hiss escaped as her mouth opened wider.

Her toes cracked as giant claws grew into place, burrowing into the thick brown rug. Her tail lengthened, swatting the chairs from under the table.

Terror clutched me – it was hard to breathe. Jasmine’s eyes expanded, then went completely black: shark eyes. They were eyes that held nothing, pulling me in. My heart thumped and blood pounded into my head. I fought to take a breath, weakened at the sight of Jasmine’s transformation, all of which had happened within a few seconds.

She hunched down. I threw my arms up in front of me as Jasmine launched, baring her teeth and drawing up her claws. I ducked, swatting her to the side and somehow avoiding her swinging nails. The cat-thing sprang back to its feet and lay its ears back, arching its back for another attack.

On my hands and knees, I scooted around the island in the middle of the kitchen, out of Jasmine’s sight. Her claws clicked off the tile as she followed, her distorted shadow slinking along the tile. I suddenly jumped to my feet and ran. Jasmine hissed and spat.

She caught up with me on the stairs, slicing the back of my heel with her claw. I felt the blood trickling down my foot as I dived into my office, slamming the door behind me. Jasmine hit the door so hard that a tall lamp in the corner tipped over, knocking a picture off the wall. It snapped apart when it hit the floor, cracking the glass.

I cursed, locking the door and collapsing into the soft desk chair. In the darkness I noticed small dark blotches on the carpet – blood from my foot. The door thudded again and I flinched, shaking. Jasmine screeched, shaking the walls with every assault on the door.

The only escape was through the window. The desk blocked it, and I had to awkwardly bend over it to slide the glass up. A rush of frigid winter air smacked my face. As thud after booming thud began to crack the door, I worked the screen loose and shoved it out.

The second floor window was about twelve feet up from the snow-dusted ground. Only in my pajama pants, t-shirt and socks, I crawled over the desk, sending pens, paper, and folders all over the floor. I shifted around and stuck my feet out, desperately grasping for the edge as I slid through.

The door burst open and Jasmine howled, crashing into the room. My fingers slipped from the edge of the window and I fell, slamming to the frozen ground feet-first. My lower legs exploded with pain – there wasn’t enough snow on the ground to break the fall. Gritting my teeth, I rolled over and rose up onto my throbbing legs.

Voices. I couldn’t understand what they said, but they sounded like they came from the front of the neighbors’ house. I moved my stiffening legs as fast as I could, clenching my jaw as the pain welled up, hearing the clicking of the Jasmine-beast as she came to the open window above.

I didn’t look back, pushing off the corner of my house and hobbling over to the neighbors’. Rounding the front of the house, I stopped and breathed in relief when I saw them. Marcus and his wife Summer stood in their driveway, silhouetted by the single light fixture on the garage.

The pain was too much for me and my knees buckled. I groaned when my legs struck the hard turf, and I fell backwards into the drifted snow.

Marcus calmly made his way over to me. He crouched down.

Engulfed in pain, I thrust a hand to him, gasping for his help. He moved closer, bringing his face down to mine.

His features came into clear view, even in the darkness. Inches from me, he opened his mouth to reveal oozing, jagged teeth. Bones creaked as he smiled.

Seconds before I died, I caught a glimpse of his eyes – black shark eyes. They captured my gaze as Marcus slashed my throat with his thick, pointed nails. A jet of blood splashed onto his face, wrinkled and distorted from its former youthful appearance. Summer appeared as I blacked out, a lurking shadow behind Marcus. They tore into me.

This weekend I watched Basket Case (1982) and Nosferatu (1922). And there’s a whole stack sitting here, just waiting for me to watch them again. They’re nothing new; I’ve seen most of them a million times. But they’re the greatest horror films ever made, and every time I watch them, I experience the same magic that I did the first time I saw them.

Expect our own thoughts about these movies, plus interviews with cast and crew involved in these films.

You know I’m a big fan of the horror genre — I have been my whole life. James is highly knowledgeable in the realm of film, especially horror, and it’s an honor for me to be working with such a talented guy.

Expect updates as the project moves forward!

Thanks to everyone who read it over at MidnightCorey.com. I’ve begun revising, and have some additions/rewriting in mind. Some people have suggested trying to get it published, and I very well may try. But before I do that, I’m going to make some major revisions.

http://midnightcorey.com

Speaking of that, how ’bout them Steelers — they wiped the floor with those retard Patriots. I loathe the Patriots, and love to see them lose.

Anyhow, my novel sucks. I had an outline that I carefully crafted in October, but the story veered way off course about half way through. Then, as I got closer and closer to the 50,000 word goal, I realized I’d have to wrap things up pretty quickly. And it was bad.

But I did it. And maybe I’ll pull it back out at some point in 2009 for some HEAVY editing and re-writing.

Today I start my last-ditch effort at winning for the third year in a row. I have to write 13,190 words between today and tomorrow.

Oh, God.

But not this year. I have an outline to follow, and maybe I’m thinking about things way too much.

The web site — nanowrimo.org — has been painfully slow. I think yesterday was the first time all month I could actually view a page from the site. So my word count on the site is inaccurate — I’m lucky to be able to bring the site up.

I still hate my story. It’s going so slowly that I want to hit my head off the counter.

That’s right — I had an outline this year. I spent the last couple weeks of October putting an outline together. It’s a story based on a dream I had. For the first time in three years, I’ve come into November with some sort of idea where I’d like my novel to go.

So I’ve already changed things dramatically from what my outline holds, and I’m hoping to fit it in with what else I’ve planned out. We’ll see.