Sunday, August 1, 2010

Down the Drain

by Aaron Sailors

Submitted for your enjoyment, another self contained piece of fiction that is my first solo contribution to our site. This story earned me 1st place in a contest for horror writing last year, and I have been promising people an audio version ever since. I’d like to thank Dennis Kuhn for providing me with the background music (I’m hoping to feature more of his music in the future), and to Will Ross for switching roles with me and acting as my editor.

I hope you enjoy it, and it makes your flesh crawl… just a little.

Aaron Sailors

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Patience and Verity: Episode 1

Two intergalactic troublemakers, Patience, a washed up prize fighter and Verity, his ex/current bodyguard do what they can to keep their head above water in a future filled with booze, aliens, violence and snark.

Monday, May 31, 2010

Season Three - Rough Draft Sample

Here's a little sneak preview of the setting for Season Three and one of the new characters.

"I am," I replied calmly, "and I don't like people with loaded guns surrounding me. Us."

"Our apologies, but we don't take chances in Kansas City," the man said affibly, though there was an edge of violence. A man who enjoyed his job. "I'm Waylan Rogers, head of Plaza Cartel security. Mr. Gwaine requests the pleasure of an introduction. Gwaine's in charge so that's kind of like an order. You'll need to come with us. Your people are free to go and enjoy themselves in the plaza district. If you need money, stop by the handicapper and drop off some goods, and they'll provide you with chits to spend."

"Chits?" I asked.

"Currency," Waylan said. "You'll find we're relatively civilized here. Tried money but there was too much of it around, so now we use these little poker chips we call chits. You'll find the handicappers near the movie theater in the plaza. Give them whatever supplies you need to and they'll set a value for them and give you currency. Don't worry, they won't rook ya. If they do, they'll eat a bullet. If you need it back, no big deal. You can always buy back anything you need if you're just passing through. If your people need a place to crash try the Marriott. It's decent, and not too expensive and they probably have the best water-filter and genies in town."

"Where are all the..." I hesitated.

"Dead fellas? Most are long gone, at least from the plaza district, and if you have any real trouble theres a check-point every mile into the plaza."

"Doesn't look like you need them, I said." Inside the city there was a large circle where I couldn't feel any dead things at all. It felt like... well... like what I could do. I reached out but felt no one like me. Not for miles and miles.

"Come on, It's really no big deal. Gwaine is serious, but he's a good enough guy."

Alex protested, but I overruled him. If they were planning to kill us, they had plenty of guns to do so. I could take care of myself. Besides, if they wanted to kill me they could have riddled us with machine gun bullets when we arrived. Though I still wonder, would they be enough to kill me now?

No... hubris is terminal. Have to be careful about thinking that way. I may not be able to die but my body can certainly be damaged beyond my ability to repair. Bullets still do serious damage. But what if... no... no more modifications. The muscle I stole from poor Donna's corpse was already too much. Still it's entertaining to wonder what I could be if I didn't have to conform to the standards of the human body.

I was escorted, alone, into a large SUV, and then driven through the burnt-out looted wasteland that was Kansas City. While we drove Waylan pointed things out like the Airport and the Chiefs stadium, but nearly everything was in ruins. Compared to Omaha, Kansas City looked like a war zone.

"Was the loons that did it," Waylan said, chomping the end off a cigar and spitting it out the window. "We had them real bad here until the cartel pulled together and forced a truce. You still find a nest of them too out of their gourds to follow orders, and have to pop them, but all and all we keep things friendly-like."

"Wait, you co-exist with those people?" I asked, speechless.

"People's people and money's money," Waylan said, taking both hands off the wheel for a moment to light his cigar. The SUV swerved dangerously close to the retaining wall before he righted it, steering with his knee until he threw the match out the window. "Hell, the best cat house in town is run by Frank Rose; House Abernathy. Crazier than a shithouse rats but damn if those girls won't do anything you ask em to. It's her or Mallorie's, sort of a town rivalry. Frank and Mother are real smart. Like, business smart, though Mother Mallorie and her girls are smart smart; they'll read you poetry and stuff."

As we drove deeper into the city, the town grew cleaner. People were around, mostly scavengers wearing large backpacks or dragging shopping carts filled with goods, but a few people were just milling about. They seemed to be killing time. Then we turned a corner and I was hit square in the face by civilization.

"Welcome to the Plaza District," Waylan said, smirking at the way my eyes went wide.

Monday, May 17, 2010

Sebastian of the Fay

A small fairy slowly loses her boy.

Voiced by Hope Clary, Daphne Abernathy, Julie Hoverson and Will Ross

Direct Download:

As I said in the news, if you want to read our new comic, click the link at the top, and if you want to be on the show, click the... well.. other link at the top. And if you just want to listen to some more good stories, you want Merciless Storytellers. Just click it, you know you want to.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Season Three Promo

Season Three Promo #1 "Jonas" by Rad Bear of SuperNumberOne

The question is no longer "Is Jonas Waight ready for this new world?" it is "Is this new world ready for Jonas Waight."

Season 3: Coming October 31st, 2010
(No, for real :) )

Friday, April 16, 2010

One Eighteen Microfiction

So we've been posting Microfiction every day in the Kill Sarah Already! group, and for those of you who are not yet members, here they are.  They really do give you a good view of the One Eighteen post apocalyptic setting (plus we get to remember favorite characters.)  If you want these every day, join the group or the twitter, but I'll throw them up in groups like this so nobody misses anything who doesn't.  It's not intended to read as the awesomest Season Three trailer ever, a lot of these are slices of life and loose ends, so don't read too much into this :)  But it does read like an awesome movie trailer.

Decker walked the lonesome road, Fen at his side. The wolfhound waged it's dead tail lazily. He felt him coming. Andre. No talking to this one; the waves of hatred flowed between them. He came over the top of the hill; a huge black man in a suit, carrying a machete. "You gonna play me a tune," Andre shouted. Decker smiled, dropping a lead pipe out of his coat sleeve. "When I'm done with you," the bard replied.

Big Mike cried beside the road, tears and fluids dripping from his eye socket. "Mr., why are you crying?" a tiny voice said. He felt a girl's hand encircle his. He wiped his eye. "You can come with me," the little girl said. "We need to go south." He nodded. "No more moping! Mama White is waiting for us!" He frowned and pointed to her. "Oh... my name. I'm Cordelia. My name has always been Cordelia."

Malachi bled. "You know, the bitch seat is really only designed for one bitch," Jack said, trying his best to keep Doris steady with all the extra weight. "There's really a doctor in KC?" Justin said, applying pressure as best he could while trying to hold Malachi on the bike. "Yeah, a veterinarian. But she's really good." Malachi groaned. "Hold on, babe." Justin whispered.

 "Son of a bitch," Jackson Tate said, looking through the scope of his rifle. Newports. A full god-damned pack of Newports in the dead thing's shirt pocket. But in the middle of so many. Still... the foil was in tact. He aimed at the dead thing's feet and fired a shot. He blew off it's toe. It growled and broke from the pack. "That's it... a little closer..." Fuckin Newports.

John Hawkins wouldn't cry. Even when they tied him to the watchtower. Even when Horace forced the pin of his tin deputies star through his forhead. He just watched the crowd sadly. "Any last words, son?" Horace said, putting a pistol to the side of his head. "Yes... God's gonna cut you down," Hawkins said quietly. Horace pulled the trigger.

Sarah's stepfather entered her bedroom, and she tried not to cry. She put in her earbuds and turned on Paradise Falls 61.3 FM, sliding the volume to the maximum. She felt her bedsheets rustle. The music changed as she felt his hand on her. The alarm clock read 1:20 AM. "Don't worry, you'll have your revenge," the radio whispered. "They'll all die soon." Sarah smiled. Outside, the gunshots started.

"Here they come," Horace said, putting out his camel on the trunk of the Judas tree. The Valentine brothers shouldered their rifles. Ricky Benson did the same, but hesitantly. Horace picked up his Winchester, and made sure it was loaded. Below them, the line of the Greenly expedition passed. There would never be a better chance than this. "Let em have it boys," Horace said. The deputies opened fire.

Willie Fetch flipped the beer bottle over and over in his hand, trying to catch it by the neck every time. One of Tarantino's movies played on the flat-screen. Valentine and the boys wandered down the stairs, trying to look non nonchalant. Fetch rolled his eyes. "Horace send you down?" "Yup," Valentine said lazily. "We're gonna wreck the play room," Fetch said, catching the bottle. "Yup," Valentine said.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010


A series of shorts from Will Ross' new book Cattywompus, along with some Season Three news.

(Hit the full screen button to preview the first twelve pages.)
Enter Coupon Code: SHOWERS to receive 10% off
Just found a better coupon FREEMAIL305 will give you free shipping till 5/1/10

Thursday, April 8, 2010


First and formost, as we ramp up for Season Three we're going to be looking for a LOT of voice actors/actresses/recappers etc. We're holding an indefinate open casting call (See the page above for details.) While the form/file seems like a pain in the ass, what you're doing is getting yourself into a great big book, and you'll be auditioning for every part we EVER cast, One Eighteen, Interim, Recaps, Etc. We're going to make a document so as Aaron casts he can very quickly figure out where we can use who.

There are going to be a LOT of new characters Season Three, and Season Four is in the concept stage for next year. So for 10 minutes of work once, you're on the list forever.

Secondly, we're working with two fantastic indy creators to do some One Eighteen work while we're plugging away getting Season Three ready.

Julie Hoverson, the sound goddess behind the EXCEPTIONAL 19 Nocturne Boulevard is going to produce a One Eighteen audio drama I wrote called "Snapshots" dealing with the characters Demitri Decker journey from survivor to controller/Sarah's mother Mary, and their relationship in the context of her sexually abusive stepfather, and Donna as Professor Parks lures her into his trap. It's a very cool script, fast moving, action packed, and... you know what? Let me just throw up the beginning.

One Eighteen: Snapshots

Sarah's Stepfather
Get away from that fucking TV, Mary. For Christ sake their ain't nothing on it but static.

Don't mind him, momma. You watch whatever you want.

Sarah's Stepfather
Girl you'd better shut your mouth or I'll-

Fuck me again?

Sarah's Stepfather
You watch your tone with me.

Oh really?

Demitri Decker
I got no truck with you, girl.

Woman's Voice
Oh, but you do. You're in my way.

Demitri Decker
Well why don't I just mosey off to the side here.

Woman's Voice
You serve him too. You follow the wolf. So you're in my way.

Demitri Decker
How bout you put the bat down and we talk about this. Seriously, I'm just here to play music.

Professor Parks, I want to thank you for your hospitality.

Seriously, Donna and I are so thankful for this. With Mike Junior on the way, well-

Honey! I'm just late! Don't get overexcited.

Professor Parks
(Darkly) Every child is a blessing, wouldn't you agree Courtney.

(Almost robotic.) Yes Professor.

Professor Parks
A toast then! To survivors, and the new bonds we must forge!

Mike, Donna, Tracy, Courney
Here, here!

Professor Parks
I hope you don't mind sleeping in the garage, Mike. It's a religious thing, I hope you understand.

Of course professor!


See, I'm thinking it's about time for me to use any tone I damn well feel like it.

Sarah's Stepfather
Mary, you gonna let your daughter talk to me like that?

All the colors... her dress has so many colors.

Isn't she pretty mama. We don't have to be scared anymore.

Sarah's Stepfather
Botha you need to be in a nuthatch, that's what you need!

(Childlike) Not scared... anymore?

(Motherly) No mama... not anymore. Pick up the knife.

The knife?

That's a good girl.

Sarah's Stepfather
Now you put that down, woman or I swear to christ I'll-

I really love playing with "minor" characters. Anyway, this will be done in under a month, knowing Julie.

We've also got two new one shot's coming together, our fan fiction contest entries, and one more thing.

A comic book.

Ben Hummel did this piece of fan fiction for us, and there was something so cool about the art style. I have to admit, I'm a major fan of the "Sketch pencil style of artwork.

So I said, "Ben, you draw me two iconic characters, and we'll work from there." A few days later I received the following image with a pitch for an opening story that I won't give away, but I realized that Ben knows his One Eighteen. So I'm letting him do his thing,

I've always wanted to be involved in comic books, so this is a geek comes true situation. So anyway, if you're a comic-book artist looking to get your art in front of a thousand plus readers, send us a concept sketch at

That goes for people who do production work. We're trying to farm out some fun projects like "snapshots" here and there. If you've got an idea, pitch it. Worst we can say is no, and we're actively seeking good material for our interim shows but really need to focus on writing the season in advance to minimize delays.

Finally, in terms of new material, I'm posting some microfiction that fills out little parts of the story that were just hinted at in our Facebook group "Kill Sarah Already" along with some extras and other things that don't really fit on the xbox, and it's a great place to bug us when we're slacking. Some examples of what you're missing

-Sarah's stepfather entered her bedroom, and she tried not to cry. She put in her earbuds and turned on Paradise Falls 61.3 FM, sliding the volume to the maximum. She felt her bedsheets rustle. The music changed as she felt his hand on her. The alarm clock read 1:20 AM. "Don't worry, you'll have your revenge," the radio whispered. "They'll all die soon." Sarah smiled. Outside, the gunshots started.-

-Willie Fetch flipped the beer bottle over and over in his hand, trying to catch it by the neck every time. One of Tarantino's movies played on the flat-screen. Valentine and the boys wandered down the stairs, trying to look non nonchalant. Fetch rolled his eyes. "Horace send you down?" "Yup," Valentine said lazily. "We're gonna wreck the play room," Fetch said, catching the bottle. "Yup," Valentine said.-

-"Here they come," Horace said, putting out his camel on the trunk of the Judas tree. The Valentine brothers shouldered their rifles. Ricky Benson did the same, but hesitantly. Horace picked up his Winchester, and made sure it was loaded. Below them, the line of the Greenly expedition passed. There would never be a better chance than this. "Let em have it boys," Horace said. The deputies opened fire.-

Finally, donations.we put that up on a lark and WOW... three in just a few days, and two were a bit upset that we don't offer higher amounts. That bothers me a bit. So I had an idea. For all the people who want to donate a few bucks more, I'll finish the choose your own adventure style one eighteen book I started but could not make work in public. (Ben, I just threw your art on there for test purposes, promise!  Looks rad though!)

We'll charge ten bucks for it and get back around four. The people who want to tip can just buy a copy, we'll get a more sizable tip, and you'll at least get a cool keepsake and a fun little read that only donators get to read, but we can keep a clear conscience because it's something we can only do with an actual book (we tried, doing it in audio didn't make sense, but beyond that the story is fun.

So that's all the current news. Next week i''ll have Catywompus, my book of poems and short stories done and then I can dive into the rest of this stuff.
So thats it. We're taking this stuff as seriously as you are now, and we are going to make your patience worth your while.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

What if...

So I wrote this before I came up with the cigarette... I just stumbled upon it. But it's a fun what if.

What if Jeb Greenly found his balls and took out his own brother.

"Is it true?" Jeb asked, keeping the automatic pointed at Horrace. His hands were shaking but his eyes... his eyes were steady.

"Who do you think I did it for? Would you have had the fucking guts to do it? What had to be done?" Horrace asked, moving towards his brother. "Even now you think I need killing, and you can't do it. You NEED me. You've always needed me to get the bad shit done so you don't have to."

"Stay back," Jeb said, cocking back the hammer. "Stay back and let me think." Horrace walked slowly towards his brother, hands up, palms out. Jeb started to cry and shake, but he didn't put the gun down.

"What's going to happen when the crazies come? Or the dead things... or whatever comes next. You think I'm the worst person out in all this shit? One day men will come with guns and without someone like ME, they're going to take everything from you. This isn't Sunday School here little brother. This is the big bad fucking world and you can't handle it without me. You never could and you never will." He was less than ten feet from his brother now, eyes locked with Jebs.

"One more step, Horrace and I'll-" Jeb started but Horrace just laughed.

"You'll what? Shoot your own brother? Then what? Cowboy up? Do this shit yourself? Face it, without me you're NOTHING. You're LESS than nothing. Everything you have is because of me, everything you ARE is because of me. Without me you're just a scared little kid who can't wipe his own-" Jeb pulled the trigger and the bullet tore a chunk out of the pavement at Horace's feet. Horace stopped. The world was quiet. The deputies didn't move, rifles pointed at us, but they were nervous now. And the town was armed. Then Horace laughed, long and deep and mocking.

"Was that supposed to be my warning shot, little brother?" He asked.

"No, not a warning shot," Jeb whispered. The tears were streaming down his face now, the front of his shirt wet. His hands were shaking as he cocked the hammer back and took the gun in a two handed shooters grip. "I haven't fired a handgun in years, not since dad took us. Do you remember that? He used to take us to the range."

"I remember," Horace said taking another step closer to his brother.

"I was terrible a terrible shot. I still am. I missed. I love you Horace," Jeb said.

"I love you too little brother," Horace whispered. Jeb pulled the trigger, and Horace died. He was still weeping as he stood over the body and fired two more shots into Horace's head. Then he wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeves, and turned to the deputies, gun in hand and said in a voice that was less weakling and more man than I'd ever heard, "Drop your godamned guns. None of you are cops anymore. Horace is dead, Robert and Anthony are dead, Fetch is leaving. It's over. We're going to do this again and we're going to do it right this time. If you don't agree to that, I suspect you'll have to answer to them." He gestured to the crowd, and as the deputies turned they were greeted with the sight of guns. A LOT of guns. The town was armed, and every one of them looked ready to take their OWN survival into their hands now. The kids dropped the guns. Jeb turned to the crowd.

"I don't think it's safe out there," he said, "And I don't think it'll be safe for a good long time. But I'm not my brother. Any man woman or child who wants to try for Galviston, go with my blessing. But for the rest of you, I promise, in a year, or two, when these things have rotted down to nothing, we'll be safe. We'll go. You sure you arn't willing to stay, Jonas?" He asked. I looked at my friends and neighbors. Every one of them with a weapon, every one of them finally willing to step up and take their safety into their own hands. These people were going to be ok now. They didn't need me anymore.

"I have to see what's out there for myself. When we get there, we'll let them know you're surviving up here," I told him.

"Oh we'll be better than surviving. I think we're all tired of just surviving. Tell them we're living our lives up here. Maybe come back to visit some day?" He said, shaking my hand. I shrugged.

"I'll see what I can do," I said, smirking.

"Godspeed, Folks," He said.

"It's the only speed I go," Fetch said, honking the horn loudly, "So if you two queens are done making out."

"You're an asshole, Fetch," Wendel said, loading the black trunk gingerly into the SUV.

"You're only JUST figuring that out," Jackson said, lighting up a Newport.

Monday, April 5, 2010

The Muse of Molly Malloy

OK, so if you're new, and want an outstanding self contained piece of entertainment, check out the Muse of Molly Malloy (here or just snag it from the webplayer.) This is fast becoming my favorite stand alone thing I ever wrote.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Podcasting Urban Legend

OK, so my partner in crime "The Keeme" from Haggis Ain't Cake started the urban legend that Podcasting Superstar J.C. Hutchins is so Johnny-on-the-spot with his social networking/clones/googlealerts/freakishmagicalpowers that just mentioning his name anywhere on a blog will summon him. So let's try.


(Spread this urban legend and try it in your twitters and facebooks, if it's not true, it will be funny as fuck the day he DOES bother to google his name, and he goes "What the fuck?!?!?!?!" because there are like a thousand of these)

Friday, April 2, 2010

Season Two, Episode Nine: Pretenders to the Throne

The crew faces dead things, Jonas faces Kevin, and the Analyst makes a new friend!

OK so the forums are not coming back, we couldn't keep them spam free. So instead, we started a facebook group. We can do all the same stuff there.

Join "Kill Sarah Already!" on facebook for discussion threads, conversations, and other assorted fun.

Thursday, April 1, 2010


OK so one thing I really have to stop doing is overdoing the sound-scape. Immersive is good, but it can't usurp the story. Example. First sound effect cut and line.


"The doors were locked of course, but I braced myself against them and pulled with my dead arm. There was a metallic snap as the lock broke and I slipped inside."

First sound effect cut.

GIANT FUCKING WOOD SPLINTERING DOOR SMASHING HULK GRABohshitthisdoorexistingisimportanttothestory.

Second sound effect cut.

Reasonable door forcing sound effect.

Time lost MichelBayting

5 minutes (+ 3 minutes posting this.)


P.S. While I'm pimping stuff, you should check out It's going to be pretty cool.

(+1 minute pimping.)

Editing Music

So the nice thing about blogging is I can add these things in that don't really belong in a horror feed. This song isn't horror at all, it's from one of my poems adapted by Rad Bear, but it's a damn good song on it's own, so here's something else to look at.

In editing news, my last two voices will have to be cut but that's a good thing. Means now I can dive into SFX. This episode WILL be on the feed in the morning.

Song it is!

Still plugging away. If you're looking for something to do in the meantime, Prefaces and Asides has all of my fiction up there, and if you see anything you'd like LoopIT to produce for an interim show let me know. Also thank you to the three people who clicked ads, you bought us each a jolly rancher! (Wasamellonnnn!)

Poor Man's Pot Roast

1 lb of cheap stew type meat.
1 lbs of root veggies
3 packs ramen noodles seasoning
1 teaspoon hot chili sauce
1 pinch minced garlic
1 pinch ginger

Cook veggies and meat in the seasoning water for 30 minutes on medium heat, edit podcast while it cooks.

Mics all over the place

Good God, there are some seriously obvious changes in microphone in this one. I don't think it's too bothersome (I'm superpicky about my audio) but it's giving me the twitchies. Also, I'm like the worlds worst voice actor.

That is all.

Listening to the MVT. Literally this is the worst and best possible day for a deadline since this is pretty much the only thing I can bring myself to do right now, but it's distracting as fuck :) But I'm on this. (MVT = main voice track)


All Nighter

Todays the day. It may be laaattteeee, but it's coming, finally. Expect it in your pod-catchers tomorrow morning.

Monday, March 29, 2010


First, Episode 9 is well on track for that April 1st release (and yes, I'm sure I'll put in some ass-head April Fools Joke, I'm that predictable.)

I need 3 voices, two of which I have easy access to, one I don't but it's cuttable. All the soundscapes are things I'm very comfortable with, so I shouldn't have to do much studio foley or sound effect hunting at all.

In non-podcast 118 land, I'm working with an artist to see if we can't do some comics for you guys, I've got some fan fiction to produce, and Aaron is working with some Omaha writers to produce some really interesting one shots. Add to that about a million words worth of poetry and prose and we will have plenty to entertain you with during the off season.

Finally The Survival Gauntlet has started and Willie Fetch might be our first out. Over the next few weeks I'll keep doing "Who Survives" polls with the winner moving on until we find out who you guys think is most equipped to survive the One Eighteen world. It's not a big thing, I'm just a weird little kid who loves polls.

Anyway, we've got a show meeting today at some point and I'll pass on any relevant details tomorrow.

-Will Ross