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Fiendish and Free until Wednesday!

ZF admin and fiend extraordinaire, Johnny Andrews' latest book is FREE until Wednesday.
Pick up your copy and leave a review- cuz that's how we roll.
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The Zee Brothers: Zombie Exterminators Series

Who would you call during a zombie outbreak? 

The Police? The Military? Your neighbor to make sure he’s stocked up and ready to go?

No, it's time to call The Zee Brothers!

Join us as they suit up to slay zombies and try to win the heart of the sexy and sassy JJ!

In book 1 they battle the reanimated dead of a long-buried tribe trying to reclaim their sacred grounds.

In book 2 they find themselves trapped in a zombie filled school with no weapons and no where to run.


Gruff and handsome, Jonah Zee, is the dominating, classic music loving leader, that calls the shots and keeps them coming. 

Tobacco chewing, Judas Zee is the gun slinging, rock music loving goofball, that is slow to learn, but always has his big brother's back. 

And the hot and sassy JJ, is the heroine that captures the brother's hearts and eyes, while doing her best to keep her dog Xanadu out of trouble. 


Filled with pop culture nods and heroes that just don't know when to quit, it's a slap happy, blood-filled adventure, as the trio fights off zombies and the brothers fight each other for JJ's affection.  

If you like Ash Vs Evil Dead, Army of Darkness, Z-Nation and Scooby Doo, you'll want to read this action-packed tale of zombie mayhem! Dive into The Zee Brother's adventures today!


Vol.1 Curse of the Zombie Omelet





Vol.2 Zombie School Lockdown



Audiobook: Coming this fall


ZX Shorts (E-book Only)

Revenge of the Zombie Yeti


Pests B’ Gone


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Our Flexible friend

     A guest post I did a while ago. I thought I'd share it here. Hope you like it.


                                    Our Flexible Friend

                                       By Michael Whitehead


   If you’re old and lucky enough to have grown up in the U.K. in the eighties you are sure to remember the T.V. adverts for a credit cards called Access. The tag line for the advert was “Your flexible friend.” As a writer I would argue that this is the perfect tag line to describe our friend the zombie.

   He is so flexible that even the name, zombie, is up for grabs. Walkers, biters, Z’s, Christopher Artinian’s RAMS and my own personal choice of The Risen are but a few of the dozens of names for our apocalypse bound buddies. If the name is so open to change, is it really any surprise that there is so much variety associated with zombies in general?

   Fast or slow? It’s a common question, which I’ll come back to in a bit. It’s just the start of the possibilities available to the zombie writer. We can kill them in so many wonderful ways, shooting, hitting, crushing, melting, vaporising or burning, the options are endless. The added bonus is, if we decide that those things don’t kill them, then the fun just increases. What’s better than having a burning zombie running around setting fire to anything it comes into contact with? Fair enough, you can’t drown them, but doesn’t that just add to the ways we can mess with our main characters?

   Zombies are a pretty obedient lot on the whole. Perfectly capable of being completely silent when required, they will moan on cue the moment it’s appropriate. If we ask nicely they will wait in a room for days and days but as soon as we say the word, they will escape from a locked prison cell. In fact, they can be relied on to flow out of anywhere they are being kept, like water out of a cracked jug, but only when we need them to.

   It’s not even like they need companionship. They are equally happy to spend weeks by themselves or to wander the desert with a hundred thousand mates. You could almost call them the perfect roommate, keeping themselves locked in their room until it’s time to become the party animal.

   So we come back to the age old question, fast or slow? How does a writer decide what abilities to imbue his new toys with? I mean, we might be writing about these guys for a long time. In my case it’s not the zombies but the guys they were fighting against that gave the zombies their major characteristics. It’s no good sending a bunch of slow, dumb as rocks, weak as kittens, zombies against a team of badass marines. At the same time, do we really want to waste a breed of all singing, all dancing, killing machines, against a house full of stoned students?

   In my case, I was sending our undead friends against the Roman legions. Big blocks of shield holding, armour wearing, sword wielding killers. Slow zombies were lambs to the slaughter. Dog food amongst a pack of hounds. That said, fast zombies were not going to fair much better against cavalry and archers. I needed something to give these ancient world, killing machines a run for their money. Or in my case, a jump.

   I figured that having my Risen leap into the air at the last moment would scare the crap out of a bunch of guys that spend their time hiding behind a wall of shields. More than that, the legionaries in the ranks behind are so tightly packed that the zombies landing further back would have a field day against men who couldn’t draw their swords to defend themselves. The flexibility of the zombie wins again.

   Of course the Romans will only fall for this for a short while, before they come up with ways to counteract the attack. They’re clever bastards, these Romans. I wonder if I should tell them that they haven’t seen everything these Z’s can do? Nah, I’ll let them find that out for themselves.

   The zombie is the gift that just keeps giving. We need to look after them for our own sake. They’re like a favourite pet, if we treat them nicely they will give us hours of fun, but mistreat them and they might just turn around and bite us. Give them a challenge to stop them getting bored, plenty of exercise, and of course a lot to eat, and they will remain loyal for years to come.

   Long live the zombie..........In all it’s many forms.

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Free for a limited time!

"In the unlikely intersection between Cinderella and Lizzy Borden sits this work by William Todd Rose. Recalling fairy tales when they were meant to be harsh moral instruction, using the tropes of Disney a subverted fashion, Rose weaves a dark fantasy that is not afraid to tip its scale into true horror."

In a world powered by the souls of the dead, a uniquely deformed girl embarks on a dark journey that takes her from a life of imposed solitude to the depths of human depravity. 

Accompanied by her only friend, a technologically-enhanced rat, young Lucretia Bonnecourt spirals into a world so demented and cruel that it is only rivaled by the nightmare landscapes of her own, psychotic fugues. 

Will she survive the wicked and debaucherous world which threatens to claim her? Or will she be lost forever to the altered states of exodus?

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The Zombie Fiend Apocalyptic Traveler

When I’m not writing or haunting the hallowed halls of Zombie Fiend, I’m also an avid geocacher, which is basically what happens when you tell nerds to go outside and play. For the uninitiated, geocaching is the art of using multimillion-dollar, government GPS satellites to find Tupperware hidden in the woods.  The containers—which can also be ammo cans or any other weatherproof canisters—are called geocaches and usually contain a logbook and various trinkets which can be traded for goodies from your own stash.  However, there is another type of trinket which can be found in a cache known as a Travel Bug.  A Travel Bug (or TB) is not meant to be kept; its sole purpose is to be moved from cache to cache.  A unique serial number is assigned to each TB and this number is logged on the site anytime it is picked up or dropped off, allowing the owner and others to track its journey.  And these things do tend to get around.  I’ve helped move TBs that have logged have hundreds of thousands of miles over the years, some of which originated on the other side of the globe.

With that being said – and with Joy Killar’s kind permission – I decided to create a Zombie Fiend travel bug and unleash it upon an unsuspecting world.  I’m still in the process of finding a fairly active Travel Bug Motel (a cache specifically designed for moving TBs), but thought I would create a blog here so I can share details of its journey with the community. For anyone interested, the official page for the Zombie Fiend Apocalypse Traveler can be viewed here.

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Your Support is Fiendishly Appreciated!

THANK YOU to all the Fiends who have sent donations this year.

Your support helps keeps Zombie Fiend alive, it ensures that the site will be here when you feel like logging in.

Any and All donations are GREATLY APPRECIATED!

ZF costs over $50 per month in website fees | Additional costs include prizes and member mailings that support quality programming such as Survival Chat and Author Chat.


Use this link:

Any amount that you are comfortable sharing right now will be gratefully accepted.

No matter how big or small the donation, your fiendish gift will help!

THANK YOU from your Fiend Family!! 


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Battling Zombies Under the Influence

Apparently Viking Beserkers would take hallucinogens before going into battle.

What would you take before slaughtering a bunch of kill crazed shambling zed?

FWIW, the Amanita muscaria was supposed to give a real energy boost but also cause crazy mood swings that probably wouldn't work well in a battle.
The CIA, of course, experimented with LSD & that didn't fly.

So, your choice?

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Name change

Ok I've changed my name on here from Adam Baxter (my legal name) to Ash Hartwell (my twisted writing ego). I do not mean to deceive anyone, hence putting this advisement on here. I am signed to Stitched Smile Publications and will shortly be publishing my first full novel. Tip Of The Iceberg will be out very soon and is set on the Titanic and follows the fortunes of several passengers and crew as they struggle to survive an undead threat that is spreading throughout the vessel.

I have not been as active on this site as I should have been over the last year or so and Joy has taken me to task on this issue. I feel chastised but ready to move on. I look forward to forging new friendships and renewing a few others.

Stay frosty


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Book release.

Ash Hartwell recently released his debut solo work, an anthology with the catchy title Zombies, Vamps, And Fiends.

Ash has been described as one to watch in the new wave of British horror and his style has been compared to King, Conan Doyle and Laymon. Priced at $2-98 for kindle (£1-99uk) this book is extremely good value.

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Reading and Writing

a snippet from Fred Nietzche's pot boiler Also Spracht Zarathstra (I'm finally listening to the audiobook since Paul Ernsberger stole my hardcover version in high school...)
Hopefully the line breaks are OK

Reading and Writing

OF ALL that is written, I love only what a person hath written with his blood. Write withblood, and thou wilt find that blood is spirit.

It is no easy task to understand unfamiliar blood; I hate the reading idlers.

He who knoweth the reader, doeth nothing more for the reader. Another century of readers and spirit itself will stink.

Every one being allowed to learn to read, ruineth in the long run not only writing but also thinking.

Once spirit was God, then it became man, and now it even becometh populace.

He that writeth in blood and proverbs doth not want to be read, but learnt by heart.

In the mountains the shortest way is from peak to peak, but for that route thou must have long legs. Proverbs should be peaks, and those spoken to should be big and tall.

The atmosphere rare and pure, danger near and the spirit full of a joyful wickedness: thusare things well matched.

I want to have goblins about me, for I am courageous. The courage which scareth away ghosts, createth for itself goblins
it wanteth to laugh.

I no longer feel in common with you; the very cloud which I see beneath me, the blackness and heaviness at which I laugh that is your thunder-cloud.

Ye look aloft when ye long for exaltation; and I look downward because I am exalted.

Who among you can at the same time laugh and be exalted?

He who climbeth on the highest mountains, laugheth at all tragic plays and tragic realities.

Courageous, unconcerned, scornful, coercive so wisdom wisheth us; she is a woman, and ever loveth only a warrior.

Ye tell me, "Life is hard to bear." But for what purpose should ye have your pride in the morning and your resignation in the evening?

Life is hard to bear: but do not affect to be so delicate! We are ail of us fine sumpter asses and she-asses.

What have we in common with the rose-bud, which trembleth because a drop of dew hath formed upon it?

It is true we love life; not because we are wont to live, but because we are wont to love.

There is always some madness in love. But there is always, also, some method in madness.

And to me also, who appreciate life, the butterflies, and soap-bubbles, and whatever is like them amongst us, seem most to enjoy happiness.

To see these light, foolish, pretty, lively little sprites flit about that moveth Zarathustra to tears and songs.

I should only believe in a God that would know how to dance.

And when I saw rny devil, J found him serious, thorough, profound, solemn : he was thes pirit of gravity through him all things fall.

Not by wrath, but by laughter, do we slay. Come, let us slay the spirit of gravity!

I learned to walk; since then have I let myself run. I learned to fly; since then I do not need pushing in order to move from a spot.

Now am I light, now do I fly; now do I see myself under myself.
Now there danceth a God in me.

Thus spake Zarathustra.

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A Disturbing Memory

When I was little, our next-door-neighbors had one of those plastic, wading pools in their backyard. Their son couldn't have been older than four and they'd often let him splash around in it unattended. One day I was playing in my own yard and this little boy was in his pool. To this day, I can't really say what drew my attention to him. He was a lot younger than me, so it wasn't like we played together or anything. But something caused me to look over into his yard nonetheless. In retrospect, I believe it was probably the sounds, but that's just a logical assumption. I can't remember what I heard. Only what I saw.

What I saw horrified me and the images have haunted me my entire life. This little, blonde-haired, bare-chested boy was sitting in his pool with a drenched, thrashing kitten in his left hand and a screwdriver in his right, repeatedly stabbing the poor thing. He wasn't angry. He wasn't emotional in any way. He was simply...blank.

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