New site

Sorry for neglecting this page for so long, but ever since we launched the publishing company, I’ve been focused on getting everything set over there and working on that website (snuffbooks.com).

I’ll leave this page up for a while to direct traffic over there, but updates, etc. will all be posted on the new site.

Eric and I are still available through MySpace and by email (adam@snuffbooks.com).

Thank you to everyone who has supported us through the release of Snuff and the launch of the company. I know things have gotten rocky at times, and your friendship has been appreciated more than you know. So anyway, thanks again, and hopefully we can keep on putting out new horror fiction – and more importantly, continue meeting great people – for years to come.

Adam

In stock

“Snuff” is now in stock over at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, etc. You should also be able to order it from your local bookstore if they don’t carry it.

“Snuff” at Amazon.com

Thanks for all the support,

Adam

Thanks for making us #4

Just wanted to drop by and say thank you to all of you who have pre-ordered your copy of “Snuff” over at the Horror Mall. Thanks to you guys, we’re #4 on their bestseller list.

If you haven’t had a chance to check it out yet. Stop on by.

“Snuff” at the Horror Mall

Adam

One last teaser

“Snuff” will be out within a week or so and is available for pre-order over at the horror mall (hint, hint, wink, wink). In the meantime, I figured I’d post one last teaser on here for those of you who have been kind enough to support us and check out this site.

Happy reading,

Adam

* * * *

Bill Corwin waited quietly at his desk in the upstairs office, browsing through last night’s box scores before checking his online stock portfolio.

Sitting in his bathrobe with a cup of coffee, he could hear Marilyn downstairs in the kitchen running the blender, liquefying whatever the health concoction of the month was. Everyday she drank that shit, went to the gym to see some $75-per-hour personal trainer and cooked from the pages of the newest fad diet books. Not that any of it did any good, her dumpy ass and sagging tits squeezed into matching track suits, the cottage cheese cellulite of her thighs bulging out a little more each day.

Downstairs the blender stopped.

“I’m heading out, honey,” Marilyn’s yell came up the stairs and down the hallway.

All those empty rooms – ever since Jenny left for college – provided plenty of distance between them.

“Okay,” Bill muttered, still staring at the computer screen.

“What?”

“I said ‘okay’.”

Jenny, though – sorry, she went by Jennifer now –was still the name on the credit card and tuition bills rolling in every month, five years after she started “studying” performance arts.

Jenny was Bill and Marilyn’s eldest now, but she wasn’t their first.

In college, Marilyn hadn’t been that different from Jenny, not exactly promiscuous but no saint. Mistakes happen, condoms break and periods are missed. Like mother like daughter, but abortion wasn’t an option for Marilyn.

She cried when the newborn was turned over to the adoption agency and post partum depression set in. In the end, she never finished school, the reason she decided not to keep the boy in the first place. And when Jenny came along five years later, Marilyn dedicated every waking moment to pampering her. She spoiled her right up through high school, bending her and Bill’s lives to Jenny’s every whim.

When Jenny left for college, Marilyn fell into depression again. For two years she ate everything she could fit in her grubby little mouth. For the next two years she exercised and had regular colonics. The cellulite turned into stretch marks, which were later complimented with cosmetic surgery scars. Whatever the phase, whatever the craze, it never came cheap.

Like mother like daughter.

“Alright, I’m off. I love you,” Marilyn’s shout snapped Bill back to reality.

“Uh huh…you too.”

Bill had an hour before he would leave for the office. He listened for the garage door, Marilyn’s SUV backing out of the driveway, the door going back down again. Peering from between the blinds he watched as the rear end of her Explorer disappear around the corner. He minimized the browser window, brought up a new window and typed in the address of porn trade website.

In the past few years this had become a morning ritual. It was the only time it was truly quiet – save the occasional fake moan coming from the computer speakers. It was also the only time Bill could forget about the bills, mundane office routine, his receding hairline, cellulite stretched track suits, high fiber diets, prostate checks and Jenny…fucking Jenny.

Bill clicked through the video category list.

Abused, Adorable, Amateur…Farm, Femdom, Fisting…Midget, MILF, Military…Rectal Examine, Redhead, Rim Job…Water Sports, Webcam, Wired Pussy.

The Rectal Examine link conjured up images of Bill’s last physical, but worse than that, he was tired of all this. What started with centerfolds turned into straight porn turned into anal and bondage. Now, if some pock-marked bitch with daddy issues and her roots showing wasn’t screaming as a wiffle ball bat was shoved up her ass, he had a hard time getting off.

Every morning he managed, though.

“Snuff” available for pre-order

“Snuff” is now available for pre-order over at the horror-mall. Stop on by and be one of the first to get your copy.

“Snuff” at the horror-mall

Excerpt II

Here’s a second excerpt for anyone who is interested. The release is still set for May 10 and we got the ISBN number today.

-Adam

* * *

Christmas that year was unseasonably warm. It had been two weeks since her little sister found Betty, when I slipped the rope around my foster mother’s neck and kicked the chair she used to tie me to out from under her.

The local paper had called it the “start of an epidemic.”

I remember her biting her tongue in two when the rope tightened. I remember the sound of her house slipper falling off her foot and smacking the concrete floor. I remember her eyes bulging out from their sockets and the windows behind them drawing dark like curtains. Exploding colors of synapses and loss of circulation. All those years she had choked me, now it was her fucking turn. The feel of that rope cutting her off from the world, as her mind separated from her flailing. She pissed blood and shit herself.

That final hush is the same as the one you’re born with. We’re brought into this world with that hush, that last moment of peace before the screaming starts.

I remember the hard-on forming at the thought of my dead mother, toes pointing at the floor. It was still there when the paramedics came to cut her down.

* * *

Jack awoke that night after dreaming of Heather’s performance. He had thought of his foster mother when he looked into her eyes and heard the dogs. She had Melanie Sanders’ eyes.

* * *

I passed out after my mother spit her last breath. First the paramedics showed up. Then the neighbors. Everyone assumed I found her that way. Everyone was polite enough not to ask about my hard-on.

I remember the taste of cinnamon chewing gum in my mouth. The paramedic must have been chewing it. It’s the odium that brought me back to life from a tunnel of what should have been guilt. I didn’t see any light, but I wanted to go towards it just the same.

* * *

After years of mediocrity, Jack felt like he had truly made something of himself in the film business. Sure, there were no credits, but the money was starting to roll in and he was creating something real.

Those little things about his foster mother, he would cherish them forever. Force them through in every new project. Like how she used to make the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and would take Jack to the park because his father was too busy. How she used to clip off the tips of the cherry flavored freezer pops. How she used to come into his bedroom while he slept and gag him before she sodomized him with a wire coat hanger.

She always said I deserved to feel the pain she felt.

Dread Central Review

Below is the Dread Central review for “Snuff.” As soon as it’s up on their site I’ll link to it in the “Reviews” section of this page.

-Adam

* * *

The gun went off and Wendy’s mouth went slack as she fell backward onto a dirty aquarium with sickly tropical fish inside. Glass and saltwater went everywhere. Her baby never took a breath outside the womb.

“So much for a woman’s right to choose,” Mikey dropped a wallet, his face blank under the mask-

This is a line from “Snuff,” the beginning to one of the most terrifying novels I have ever read, and probably the most incredible story I’ve ever read. Those who complain about movies such as Hostel and American Psycho for the torture, porn and raunchiness need to stop reading this review now. You will not like this book at all. Those of you who absorb this sort of thing, be prepared, I have yet to read something this macabre in true literary form.

When an out-of-work actor with a penchant for ultra-violent sex teams up with an amateur pornographer, the result is a lucrative business filled with unimaginable horrors.

Only when things take an incestuous turn, does Jack Sanders learn the dangers of the snuff film business. The mutilated bodies turning up across California are nothing compared to the revenge-driven imagination of a victim’s father.

Bodily fluids splatter the pages of “Snuff” as glimpses of Jack’s abusive childhood and shattered dreams build up to an unforgettable climax.

Brace yourself for an unapologetic experiment in brutality

And yes folks. This book is brutal. This book is disgusting. This book is definitely controversial to say the least. Those who complain about it being vulgar, vile, or horrific… that’s part of the story, and not to embrace it means you miss out on something extraordinary.

Ever since then, I’ve tried to live in freedom, but it’s been a lie up until now. We all have to pay taxes, fulfill corporate-created needs and answer to our instilled conscience. We read the papers, feign outrage and fuck on our anniversaries.

If everyone in the world committed suicide, where would all the politicians go and what would be left to own?

“Snuff” is a different book as well, because the countless horror novels being churned out are usually always the same. The subject matter in the book could really happen, and that is to me, the makings of a perfect story in the overly saturated vampire, zombie filled genre. Even if their premise seems different in most of these books, they are nothing more than a complex shroud of misery for the reader, overly clichéd (this has been done before drivel). Vampires for example are just humdrum anymore. And it’s hard to scare the reader today in this welcoming society of our not so polite future.

“Snuff” scared me.

The book is not meant to be scary, and that’s the thing that makes it so enchanting. Underneath the visceral alpha male sexuality, and extreme gore, there is a pure innocence of two men troubled. Jack Sanders is an out of work actor who becomes a vicious rapist killer, or maybe really always has been, under the severity of his incestuous past. In the book, you read about his attempts at becoming something greater. And one can only hope to be something miniscule after being savagely molested by his mother. His partner, Mikey, becomes enthralled by Jack’s endeavors. They begin killing a lot of girls for money. But what works in this book, that didn’t do it so well in Hostel, is that there is an actual story to be told. As sinister as Jack is, you can’t help but feel sorry for him. The characters are completely immersive and none are the all-too-well-known clichés. Only once you think you know where things are going are you embarrassed by how wrong you’ve become. The hunters soon become the hunted, which is another wonderful weaving of plots in Snuff. It’s done delicate and well and fast paced counter balancing the extreme and brutal gore. One girl gets raped with dry ice. Another has cleaning chemicals dumped into her exposed brain and still she is raped. Even the father of one victim becomes more disturbing then the two lead killers in the book, which is something I’m finding less and less in novels of today. Too many books follow the same scope of structure in their defined genre. Snuff, surprisingly doesn’t. What I thought was to be another torture porn rip off turned out to be the best read in months.

The book makes some pretty wild twists and turns and some of the rape scenes make you nauseated. I won’t spoil it for the readers, but there are new and ingenious ways that people are killed in this book. I can’t imagine any woman being able to finish it, and I can’t imagine anyone who meets Mr. Enck or Mr. Huber in person would be able to shake their hands after writing this novel.

Except me. I would be honored to shake their hands. They have actually written something scary. That’s a hard thing to do anymore.

Dread Central-

“Snuff” snippets pt. I

Here goes kids…a first glimpse at “Snuff.” I’ll be posting a few more snippets up here over the next few weeks until the book’s May 10 release. Let us know what you think.

-Adam

* * *

With the sun now coming in through the picture windows of the living room, Jack squinted his eyes, trying to delay the onset of the day ahead. Another day of waiting. Another bit part and condescending casting directors, but surgical equipment and top shelf liquor weren’t free. Keeping up an image cost money.

There are still a few hours before the grind, still time to take one step closer.

The cries from the other room had died down. “I Don’t Like Mondays” would have to wait. She would be saved, freed from the ingrained images and societal expectations. Saved from her parents’ doting and hopes. In a few more hours, they would never have to worry again.

Jack could hear rumblings from whatever Italian exploitation flick was on loop on the TV as he cracked the door. She was on her side, arms handcuffed behind her back, a sliver of her twat poking out from the side of her panties. He’d had to cut off her designer jeans last night because they were snagged on a shard of steel from the door. It just made it easier today.

She half grunted as he lifted her up, fingering the metal blade and pulling the makeshift blindfold up from her left eye. The razor edge of it was halfway behind her eye before she screamed and the blade hit the optic nerve. One down. By the time her second eye was out, Jack’s hard-on was back.

After removing what remained of her tattered clothes, Jack flipped the TV over to a cable cooking show before tracing the blade down the small of her back – her ID said her name was Samantha, 19 years old. By now she could barely groan, and when the blade cut slowly across her asshole nothing registered. Just to be safe, Jack had crushed her windpipe, making sure the neighbors couldn’t hear. Making sure not one judgmental word would cross her dried, cracking lips.

This one’s not a virgin.

That much was obvious as he forced a finger up her from behind. Too loose, even dry. Using the blood from her face as lubricant, two of Jack’s finger went into Sam’s asshole with some resistance. He wanted to be the first. Finally, a whimper out of the bitch.

As he forced his cock inside her, Jack looked up at the TV. “30 Minute Meals.” It took Rachel Ray 30 minutes. It only took him eight.

With his hands around her throat, Sam gave up without a fight just before he came.

There’s something to be said for a girl dying on your cock. All her muscles clenching up, shit and blood forcing its way out, it gives you a feeling of accomplishment. Identity.

* * *

Pre-orders

The tentative release date for “Snuff” is May 10.

Once released, the book will be available through all the normal online outlets (Amazon.com, Barnesandnoble.com, Borders.com, etc.).

In the meantime, you can pre-order copies of “Snuff” by contacting the publisher at sales@bluphier.com.

Thanks for the interest and keep it brutal,

Adam and Eric

FearZone review of “Snuff”

FearZone.com just posted a review of “Snuff” by Gabrielle S. Faust:

“SNUFF is by far the single most disturbing piece of literature I have ever read. I imagine it will probably be hard for many to get through because of the unimaginable level of brutality that takes place, page after bloodied page. Especially women since this is a novel whose main character is acting out his hatred for women due to the abuse he suffered at the hands of his foster mother in the past. Readers will have to have the ability to step back and take the piece as a whole, to see the greater message about the insane level of brutality in our culture and the effects of abuse on the human psyche it is attempting to deliver, rather than focusing in on each grisly detail. This is definitely not a novel for the weak of stomach; even I, a tried and true horror fan, had a hard time with many of the passages due to their graphic content. However, I persevered, resisting the urge to shut the book and run to the bathroom to wretch, because of how well the novel is written. It’s amazing to me that such a psychotic story could be so intelligently written, but Enck and Huber have accomplished this feat. There is a certain societal awareness about the piece that makes it very fitting for the age we are struggling to live in. Indeed if I were to sum up the book in one phrase it would have to be ‘Jack the Ripper meets American Psycho in a basement bondage dungeon’.”

Read the entire review at FearZone