Robert's new short story collection, MY DEAREST JEZEBEL: Tales of Horror and the Macabre, is now available on the Amazon Kindle. (US: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0108ZSOE0).

Robert Vasan is a writer and filmmaker with a passion for the strange, the surreal, and the sinister. He writes primarily horror and crime thrillers, but he doesn’t mind exploring the darker corners of other genres. He has published under various pen names in various periodicals, and has produced and premiered short films in Texas, Arkansas, and New Mexico. Although he has lived as a vagabond throughout much of the United States, Robert calls the deepest part of his subconscious home.

“The angel was beautiful, without a doubt. Long silver-blue-white hair, like waterfall woven into threads. A glowing halo ring hovered over its head. Its wings spread out almost across the entire length of the tiny bedroom, scraping against the stucco ceiling.” -- From “The Blood of Heaven”

My Dearest Jezebel collects six short tales of horror, suspense, and the macabre into one quick-to-read anthology. The stories explore the darker side of love, where nostalgia leads to terror, passion turns to pain, fame tears friendships apart, and family loss eats away at the world’s morality. Six tales, six protagonists, six nightmares come to life.

In the title story, a man reconnects with an old flame with a secret she’s dying to share, and he learns that some memories are better off dead. “Wrist Carvings” introduces a different kind of vampire, one who can awaken the darkest passions in everyone he meets. In “Lethean,” a woman discovers her husband of many years may not actually be real. In the dream-like “Medusa Sheds Her Skin,” a woman becomes infected with a disease that transforms her body and soul. A legendary musician commits suicide in “We All Have Wings,” but death is not the end of his career. And in the longest story, “The Blood of Heaven,” an orphan boy is taught the secret ways of hunting the last angels on Earth.

“I took hold of her arm and put my mouth to the cut. I tasted her third-grade choir recital. I tasted the sunshine in her backyard as she played in her daddy’s arms, spinning round and round like a carousel.” -- From “Wrist Carvings”