Dave Rowlands
Bio
Author and Creator of Anno Zombus, but don't let that worry you; I write more than just zombie stories.
Discover more about Baby's parents role during the Auspocalypse at amazon.com and come and join us at the Anno Zombus facebook group.
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Stories (52)
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Ember and Ash
Ember soared above the clouds. Her scales, glorious scarlet, her eyes rubies the size of boulders. Ancient and terrible Ember had encountered no serious threat to her existence in centuries. She had destroyed armies, devoured giants. One day a powerful wizard had broken into her lair to ransack her hoard with the intent of stealing an ancient necromancer’s grimoire. She had eviscerated the wizard with one claw and melted his brother with her flaming breath, armour, flesh and bone all.
By Dave Rowlands3 years ago in Fiction
Nova
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. This is true, in that without atmosphere to travel through there is nowhere for the sound waves of the scream to go. In Jessica Malloy’s case, however; she was sat in the cockpit of a shuttle in the shadows of an asteroid mere inches away from the surface. Were she to make contact with the surface the vibrations from the impact could be detected by the patrol that was even now slowly making its way past her hiding point.
By Dave Rowlands3 years ago in Fiction
Rails of Rebirth
His eyes snapped open. It didn’t help; the darkness was oppressive. Only the sounds and motion of the world around him told him he was on a train, sat in a standard train seat, probably encrusted in filth and coated in graffiti as it clattered along merrily. As his eyes adjusted to the blackness, he patted down his pockets. He was a smoker; he should have a lighter on him. Strange, his pockets were empty. Not simply devoid of lighter and cigarettes; devoid of everything that he should have upon his person. No wallet, nor keys, nor mobile phone. In fact, upon closer inspection, he realised that whatever clothes he was wearing in the darkness had no pockets. His fingers scrabbled upon the outside of his trousers where a pocket should be. Nothing. Same with his shirt and coat. Odd that he should be wearing what felt like his usual clothing with no pockets for his absent belongings.
By Dave Rowlands3 years ago in Fiction
Not a Sight, Not a Sound
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Three young people stealthily make their way through the trees, splashing through the moonlit puddles, visible only due to the bright yellow raincoats that their parents had insisted that they wear in case it rained. The parents had, as they frequently were, been right.
By Dave Rowlands4 years ago in Horror
Grace Under Dragonfire
There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. The first sign that Kira noticed was when the smoking remains of a cow dropped onto her uncle Mitch, followed by a terrifying roar. They’d been walking back home after a long day’s work in the city, through the Valley. ‘Work’ would be the technical term for what the pair did, she was sure of it. Uncle Mitch had begged for coin while nimble young Kira stole from the throng that always crowded the streets of the city, day or night. They’d made enough that day that Mitch got himself good and drunk as they ate their customary meal at what at first appearances was a fairly shabby tavern, but once the odour of the food hit all thought went out of Kira’s mind of anything other than eating.
By Dave Rowlands4 years ago in Fiction
For Erik
My childhood was a wreck. Sure, there were kids who had it worse than me, plenty in fact. But it was not a pleasant way to have grown up. I remember the adults around me always telling me that I was 'living through the best years of my life' and I would think 'if this is it, I'd rather be dead'. Having a narcissistic alcoholic for one parent while the other is far too busy just trying to earn a living so that we can actually do things like eat on a daily basis makes for a lonely, messed up kid.
By Dave Rowlands4 years ago in Humans
Dave's Rules for 2022
2022. January. Great, I’m still alive! It has been a monumental effort even for relatively ‘normal’ people just to remain vaguely sane over the last couple of years, with an overabundance of people telling you what to think, who to listen to, what you need to do for the rest of your days. It feels particularly bad here in Australia for some reason… 2020/21 were disastrous for me in particular, as I have had to deal with the return of the most narcissistic parent ever to walk the Earth. He has since removed himself from my existence when I made it plain that I would no longer tolerate such bullshit, but the stress of the situation lingers on.
By Dave Rowlands4 years ago in Motivation
Demeter
Standing on the deck, gazing out over the waves, the predator sensed movement and vanished in an instant. The crew of this ship, small though it was, were in numbers great enough that the predator might have trouble, should any know of his kind. It was likely that they would have some knowledge; sailors had ever been a superstitious lot, and this was a crew from Russia, close enough to his home to have heard tales aplenty. Ten days ago, they had left the port at Varna, heading to Whitby.
By Dave Rowlands4 years ago in Horror
