  Horror/Scary
This week: Edited by: W.D.Wilcox  
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Jake Springer stumbled through the woods in shock. After the snake had bit him, he left everything at the campsite and started hiking out of the high country about as fast as he could. It was a six-hour walk back to the trailhead where he had parked his car and the sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach told him he wasn't going to make it.
Can a man die from a rattlesnake bite? You damn right he can, he told himself as he pushed through the undergrowth and hurried toward the top of the hill.
When he broke camp that morning, he found the snake curled-up under the foot of his sleeping bag. It was huge—the biggest damn snake Jake had ever seen—the granddaddy of ALL snakes. The damn thing didn’t even rattle—it struck with the speed of a mousetrap, latched onto his arm as quick as snot, and then hung there thrashing and wouldn’t let go.
Jake jumped up and ran out of the tent dragging half the snake’s length behind him, feeling it sag heavily upon his arm, thrashing, and filling him with venom. Out of sheer desperation, he grabbed it around the thick of its body, ripped it from his arm, and threw it as far out into the woods as he could. Even then, it had tried to whip around and bite him again, nearly striking him in the face; Jake heard it hiss and could have sworn he felt its hot breath against his cheek.
He stood there for a moment shuddering uncontrollably. Then coming to his senses, he quickly fished in his pocket for his Swiss Army knife. The blade on the damn thing had never really been all that sharp, but he carried it anyway…for emergencies.
Taking a deep breath and holding it, Jake hacked away at the bite with the dull edge and making a mess of his arm. He felt sick to stomach and his head swooned as he squeezed at the wound hoping to get some of the poison out. His blood was dark—almost black—and as it ran down the length of his arm, it felt as hot as fresh coffee.
Quickly, he pulled his belt loose, looped it around his arm, and then cinched it up tight. He didn’t know what else to do…had never really planned to run into a rattler in the first place, and so, never took the time to actually learn how to doctor a snakebite. He just did what he remembered seeing coboys do in old movies he watched as a kid.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the rattlesnake again. It worked its way out of the bushes, and headed straight for him. A chill ran through Jake’s body. “What the hell...”
The snake was fast—not even giving Jake enough time to look for something he could throw at it. It forced him to step back, tripping on a dead tree branch and nearly falling over backwards. The snake quickly crawled over Jake’s abandoned backpack, hesitated, its forked-tongue licking at the air, and then came forward again. “To hell with this,” Jake said, turning and rushing away from the campsite. He set off at a brisk pace, scared and dying—the snake followed.
It wasn’t long before his envenomed state forced him to sit and rest. Jake looked at the wound; it was turning a blue-black color and burned like battery acid. He knew the faster his heart worked—the quicker the poison rushed through his bloodstream. He took a deep breath, and then let it out, trying to relax himself.
Then he heard something slithering through the underbrush.
-an excerpt from my forthcoming short story, Rattler
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When I first started writing, it was because I read so much—and the more I read, the more I thought, “I can do that—and do it better.” I felt that the books I’d read always left me wanting more…never had quite enough of what I liked best about a story: visual action scenes; intense horror; unsuspected surprise after surprise after surprise, plus a GREAT ending.
I have read many different authors—different genres—tasting the flavor of their ‘voice’—their ‘style’—like tasting a fine wine; and because of that, I have chosen my favorite writers over the years—each for a different reason.
I loved Frank Herbert because he would always start out each chapter with some philosophical comment that would make my brain tilt sideways and go out of whack. Or Stephen King, because he always takes your ‘Joe Average’ and throws him into a pit of hell just to watch him squirm. For whatever reason—whatever style—I found that, after a time, even my favorite authors would lead me to the very brink of complete satisfaction, and then leave me flat and unfulfilled.
I read everything—most times, it is whatever my eyes happen to fall upon: books, magazines, newspapers, and leaflets—whatever happens to be lying around. It is as though I am a sponge sucking up the spilled words from the page. I analyze everything the author does—try to understand how they set a particular mood, or how they hook me—what WORDS work best to keep me riveted to the page, and what WORDS make me put the book down like a piece of moldy cheese.
I write stuff down—ideas—pieces of dialogue—and then squish them all together onto my Word program, drawing from them when needed. I brainstorm with my family—watching their reactions and listening to their comments. All in good fun, unless of course, the story is too graphic for them—gory scenes don’t make for the best of dinner table discussion at my house.
Aside from all that, my task—no, my magical quest in learning how to write, is to create something so fantastic—so wonderful—that even I would like it—and sometimes…just sometimes…the magic works.
Until next time,
billwilcox
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Feedback
MoonlightTygress 
Submitted Comment:
Another wonderful, advice giving newsletter! You never let me down, I know when I read a article by you I am going to WANT to sit and write. Thanks so much!!
patrickstar
Submitted Comment:
W.D.-- I'm reading this newsletter in the library, and when I got to the part about swallowing razor blades...I was trying to decide where the best place would be to run if I was going to be sick. Great job on this newsletter, though. You do a terrific job in finding the horror of everyday life.~Cait
nomlet 
Submitted Comment:
Great newsletter, W.D. I loved the sample horror. In fact, I think I'll go out and try that trick with the razor blade, just like you described!
essence of thought
Submitted Comment:
Its so good how you can keep your sense of humor while writing a horror story, it appears slight in your "razorblade" one, and it continues through your comments. I agree with you about such accidents of mothers killing accidently their babies, for I heard about many who experienced such accidents when lost in sleep while feeding their babies.
twyls
Submitted Comment:
Bill: I read your story about the suffocated child, and, even though I don't have children yet, I couldn't sleep last night. I just couldn't get that thought out of my head. Being old enough to bear a child, and a woman at that, I have a great sensitivity towards children and mothers. Your story freaked me out. As for the razor blades... the scaries moment in that story is the "Ta da." I think the most mundane things became the scariest, as well as the most sensual or the funniest, depending on what you write.twyls and her twin
ravenfeather
Submitted Comment:
This was an excellently presented newsletter. I had thought for a while now to write about my own fears (moths, elevators etc.) fears that not many other people have. I am always inspired by you to create the most chilling and tingling pieces possible. Thanks for this advice (albeit impersonal) It really spoke to me...
dmack
Submitted Comment:
Hello W.D., I enjoyed your newsletter and really like your writing style. You take simple things and make them truly scary.If you have the time, would you look at "The Plant". This was very first attempt at horror. Please tell me what you think.
I have featured your plant eater in this weeks newsletter.
schipperke
Submitted Comment:
Bill! Where do you get the energy to write all these wonderful newsletters?
Maimai J Saves for Upgrade
Submitted Comment:
If you write about what scares you, you’ll scare somebody else too.I totally agree with you on this thing. The emotions one has while writing are influential to the readers.
zwisis
Submitted Comment:
Great newsletter as always, WD. So true - those everyday items that we consider normal contain some truly great horror potential. I shudder at the reference to razor blades...
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Horror/Scary: February 22, 2006 Issue [#889]
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