Blank White Pages

by Adam J. Whitlatch

If you ask any writer (any at all, take your pick) what the worst part of his craft is, he may pause and consider this for a moment before responding. This is because there are so many obstacles in a writer’s day-to-day life. There’s the ever-lingering doubt that his work is up to par; does my family believe in me or are they just humoring me until I give up and decide to go back to work at my old day job? Rejection letters... now there’s something every writer has to deal with – some on a daily basis – and no matter how many times you hear about Stephen King or J.K. Rowling’s slew of rejection letters before they struck it big you just can’t help but ask yourself, “Is my writing really that fucking terrible?” Then of course there are those days when a new literary magazine comes in the mail and you open it to find that your brilliant masterpiece that you spent weeks polishing and revising – the envy of all your coffee house frequenting writer friends - was passed up in favor of some poorly edited, half-baked piece of drivel entitled “My Boyfriend is an Alien” that was probably pounded out in five minutes by the fiction editor’s thirteen-year-old autistic nephew. All of these drain on a writer’s sanity of course, but nothing - and I mean nothing - enrages authors more than a goddamned blinking cursor on a blank white page.

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Adam J. Whitlatch would like to dedicate this piece to his good friend Joseph Grant. Adam is the author of numerous short stories, the novel “The Blood Raven: Retribution," and the novels-in-progress “E.R.A. – Earth Realm Army” and “The Weller: Tales of the Wastelands." (Adam's complete works on 6S can be found here.)

Slumber Party

by Adam J. Whitlatch

No, it's not time for cake and ice cream yet; no, you can't open presents until Grandma and Grandpa get here; please don't bother that cat, he doesn't like strangers; no, you can't take the salamander out of his tank - because he sleeps during the day, that's why - what? - no, you can't buy him from me, I don't care how much money is in your piggy bank - oh, Hell's bells... who's been messing with my book and moved my bookmark? No, you can't go into my den; no, you can't play with my vintage action figures collection - because they're worth more in the box, that's why - leave the comic book alone... it's in a frame because it's worth three thousand dollars - no, you can't buy it from me, what are you the spawn of Sat- STEP AWAY FROM THE SWORDS, KID, I AM NOT MESSING AROUND ANYMORE! Okay, boys, it's time for cake and ice cream... boys... boys... BOYS... cake and ice cream... TURN OFF THE DAMN TELEVISION! Wow, that's an awesome present; no, you can't go play with it now, you have seven more to open; wow, cool Pokemon cards - what? - no, you can't buy that rare card from him... because you gave it to him, that's why; yes, you got another Indiana Jones birthday card... it's an Indiana Jones themed party; god damn it, leave that cat alone! Okay, boys, you pick out a movie while I pop the popcorn; no, I haven't seen the cat, go pick out a movie; no, you cannot watch The Return of the Living Dead, what kind of kid are y- no, you can't watch American Psycho; leave the damn cat alone; no, you can't watch Heavy Metal - yes, I know it's a cartoon, that's not the point; leave the cat al- are you happy now, you got scratched - you do not know how to take a hint, do y- wait, where the hell did you get a Scooby-Doo costume? Okay, boys, time for bed - kid, do not mess with me... my wife is a veterinarian and has access to horse tranquilizers; no, you cannot sleep with the cat - isn't that the same cat that just scratched you? - no, you can't sleep with the goddamned salamander; go to bed... bed... BED... ah, peace at last; I can hear you boys, I'm right next door - what's that, honey? - what do you mean "Let's have another baby?"

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Adam J. Whitlatch's house has been overrun by a platoon of sugar-hyped third graders from Miskatonic Elementary. If you are reading this, please send help... and vodka. When his house is not plagued with psychotic eight-year-olds, Adam writes Science Fiction and Horror. He is working on his new novel-in-progress Letters from an Angel. (Adam's full 6S catalog can be found here.)

Jessica

by Adam J. Whitlatch

Her voice is velvet whispers, it sends shivers down my spine. My heart, it skips a beat, at the sound of her approaching feet. She turns the darkest night into the brightest day. She’s absolutely perfect, in every possible way. I live in the gaze of her eyes - deep hazel pools of brilliance. My Jessica.

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Adam J. Whitlatch wishes his wife a Happy Birthday today. This Six is made up of various excerpts from the song "Jessica" by Adam's band, Death Stroke. Adam and Jessica live in southeast Iowa with their two sons.

I Do This For You

by Adam J. Whitlatch

My armor’s growing heavy, the weight bearing down on shoulders already burdened with the stress of this endless war and I can’t help but ask myself, “What’s it all for anyway?” I look down into the black, expressionless visor of the helmet clutched in my metal hands, but it doesn’t offer any answers. A fat, wet raindrop splatters against the visor and streams down the contours of my helmet like a teardrop - tears of God. I look up and see the first of the mechs – heavily-armed and merciless death machines – rounding the corner and marching toward me, followed by nine more and at least five dozen of the Khan’s best storm troopers and I don my helmet with a sigh, the hissing of the airtight seal around my neck covering the sound of my lament. Just another day in the E.R.A., I tell myself as I surge forward to engage the first mech. I do this for you.

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Adam J. Whitlatch is the author of several horror and science fiction short stories, but right now his epic novel "E.R.A. – Earth Realm Army" is demanding most of his attention. "E.R.A." is a work of fiction... except for the parts that aren’t. (Adam's complete works on 6S can be found here.)

Form Letter to Literary Agents

by Adam J. Whitlatch

Dear Agent,

I have read and carefully evaluated your rejection, and would like to express my condolences for your failure to jump onto the Harry Potter / J.K. Rowling Money Machine and for your lingering bitterness. Based on your rejection I can see I am not the best author for your agency as my work possesses too much merit and integrity. Please forgive this form letter, as my workload prevents me from personalizing every single letter. I wish you the best of luck in your search for recycled, rehashed drivel. Remember, every rejection brings you that much closer to your precious 15%.

Sincerely,

Random Author Whose Name You Couldn't Be Bothered To Learn

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Adam J. Whitlatch is currently seeking an agent to represent his science fiction novel E.R.A. - Earth Realm Army. He'd like to dedicate this piece to every writer who has ever poured their heart and soul into a query letter only to be rewarded with the dreaded "Dear Author" letter. Adam lives in southeast Iowa with his wife, Jessica, and their two sons. (His full 6S catalog can be found here.)

The Monster is Loose

by Adam J. Whitlatch

Gnashing teeth and ripping claws signal its arrival; the Beast that lives inside each and every one of us. The monster that usually only comes out when you drink, forget to take your pills, or when you've had a particularly bad day at work. He's really pissed off today, the pulsing of my beating heart against his skull sending him into heightened fits of murderous rage. Call him what you will – Mr. Hyde, Freddy Krueger, The Boogey Man, Willy-Fucking-Wonka for all I give a shit. His growling rants are growing louder inside my head as he claws closer and closer to the surface; he has only one word on his lips... your name, my dear. I'm losing control, succumbing to the same murderous beast that consumed men like Ted Bundy and Jack the Ripper, but the thing that scares me the most of all... is I think I like it.

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Adam J. Whitlatch is the author of numerous horror and science fiction short stories. He lives with his wife and two sons in southern Iowa where he continues to work on his second novel "E.R.A. – Earth Realm Army." His work has also appeared in New Voices in Horror Magazine. (Adam's full 6S catalog can be found here.)

Heroes Never Bleed

by Adam J. Whitlatch

It’s a thankless job being a hero, and before you tell me that I’m wrong, let me tell you something: I’ve watched friends and family die at the hands of my enemies – no one should ever have to bury their friends so young. The shrapnel imbedded in my knee makes me cry out in agony whenever I climb a flight of stairs and I limp when it rains, but I never blamed anyone for it; just the price for being a hero. I’ve been dead four times; my heart restarted twice by chemicals, once by defibrillation, and once by hand. My body is a roadmap of scars left by knives, swords, bullets, arrows, and weapons that – if the government has anything to say about it – you’ll never know about. My dreams are haunted every night by the faces of the men I killed in the line of duty; bloody visions of viscera and gore and the walking dead that leave me gasping and clutching at the sweat-drenched bed sheets while my wife sleeps on, completely oblivious to my pain. But the thing that hurts the most – more than the shrapnel, the scars, the sleepless nights, or the broken bones... the thing that cuts the deepest is the fact that no one ever once said “Thank you.”

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Adam J. Whitlatch is a horror and science fiction writer living in southern Iowa. His newest novel, E.R.A. – Earth Realm Army, is dedicated to heroes, both acknowledged and unsung. The author asks simply that after reading this piece you go find a hero, be they a soldier, a firefighter, a policeman, or a doctor – and just say “Thank You.” (Adam's complete works on 6S can be found here.)

Keeping Secrets

by Adam J. Whitlatch

She's staring at me across the table with those guilty eyes, and I can already tell my evening is ruined; suddenly this pizza sitting between us doesn't seem quite so appetizing anymore. After a couple false starts she finally manages to find her voice (although shaky and nervous) and after I reassure her that she can tell me anything says, "I love you... and I don't think there should be any secrets between us, so I have a confession to make." My throat tightens when she says, "I kissed another guy at a party last week, but it was nothing... I swear!" I lean back in my chair and sigh, this simple action is probably what saves my life, because I can just barely see the Horde troopers an instant before they crash through the pizzeria's plate glass window and open fire, laser bolts turning the quaint little establishment into a war zone, complete with mozzarella rain and cheese shaker grenades. I quickly overturn our table and drag her behind it with me and she screams as a red blast of laser fire takes out a chunk of the table's edge next to her head. I reach behind my back and draw the laser pistol concealed underneath my jacket and – meeting her panicked and trembling gaze – say, "Honey, there's something I've been meaning to tell you, too."

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Adam J. Whitlatch is the author of numerous horror and science fiction short stories. He lives with his wife and two sons in southern Iowa where he continues to work on his second novel "E.R.A. – Earth Realm Army." (He hates when war breaks out during dinner, but his wife is slowly getting used to it.) His work has also appeared in New Voices in Horror Magazine. (Adam's full 6S catalog can be found here.)

Recalled

by Adam J. Whitlatch

My wife is in the bathroom crying. She’s done nothing else since the message came in over an hour ago from Command, and I hate myself for doing this to her, but I have to go. Even more painful are the looks from the children. The two-year-old smiles up at me and tickles my sides; he doesn’t understand what daddy has to do and where he has to go any more than his mother understands why daddy has to go, and the seven-year-old is giving me those same eyes he gives me whenever I miss a little league game... he hates me, I can tell. The scars criss-crossing my flesh and the calcified ghosts of long-healed fractures in my bones cry out in protest, No more, please, we served our time! and normally I would have to agree, let someone younger and more able-bodied handle this, but this is not something to be left to the MySpace generation. I take the dust-covered helmet down from its hiding place on the top shelf of the bedroom closet and – taking a deep breath – place it over my head and immediately feel the cold diamond-hard armor crawling over my body, and after a few moments a familiar voice from my memories fills my helmet, “Transformation sequence complete.” Welcome back, soldier, I whisper.

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Adam J. Whitlatch is the author of numerous horror and science fiction short stories. He is currently writing his second novel, “E.R.A. – Earth Realm Army,” and is deep into planning for the sequel, “E.R.A. - The Chameleon War.” "E.R.A." is a work of fiction... except for the parts that aren’t. (Adam's complete works on 6S can be found here.)

They Only Come Out At Night

by Adam J. Whitlatch

John scratched his thick white beard and cursed under his breath as he stared at the scene of death and mutilation that only last night had been a flourishing chicken coop. All over the room, masses of matted feathers, wings, gristly bones, and cloudy-eyed heads littered the floor, nesting boxes, and the brooder; they hadn't taken the eggs, the dirty varmints - why the hell hadn't they taken the eggs? Three nights now this had happened; he looked up into the rafters at the remaining six hens and two roosters cowering there, frightened and shaking, and decided that enough was enough. Tonight I'm gonna bag those sons a bitches, he thought with resolve as he set down the rusty steel traps and began collecting the pieces of carcasses with the most meat left on them. He went to bed that night with a smile on his face, certain that in the morning the nightmare would be over and he'd have the filthy varmints right where he wanted them. Imagine his horror the next morning when he opened his door to find three bloody steel traps dangling from the nail above his door and a message scrawled in blood on the door, No MoRR cHiKenZ HooManZ nEXt!

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Adam J. Whitlatch is fighting a losing battle with weasels, coyotes, and neighbor dogs in his chicken coop. (Sometimes he wonders if they're not something bigger... and smarter.) He lives on a small farm in southeast Iowa with his wife and their two boys and continues working on new sixes as well as his novel-in-progress "E.R.A. – Earth Realm Army." (Adam's full 6S catalog can be found here.)

Confessions of a Horror Writer

by Adam J. Whitlatch

People often ask why a person of such high intelligence and as cultured as I would lower myself to writing grisly horror stories about hordes of flesh-craving zombies, murderous husbands, and vengeful apparitions from beyond the grave. The answer is quite simple, my friend: your children read it. People also often ask why a Christian, such as myself, would taint my soul with stories of murdered trophy wives rising from shallow graves for a final night of ghoulish love-making (not to mention a bloody midnight snack), or tales of handsome vampires who bewitch young women in back alleys with their preternatural charms, coercing them into decadent deeds that neither drugs nor alcohol could normally induce. Again, the answer is simple, sir: it gives your lady impure thoughts. I see that my explanations are not enough for you, my friend, for the look on your face says you still do not understand... so I will leave you with this final explanation for why I write the things I do: if I don’t do it, then Laurell K. Hamilton or Stephen King will, and I have bills to pay. Now let me get back to my work, before I write a horror story about you.

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Adam J. Whitlatch, author of Honey Do, has penned numerous horror and science fiction short stories. This is Adam’s sixth 6S story, and definitely one of his favorites. He is currently seeking representation for his first novel "The Blood Raven: Retribution" while working on his second, "E.R.A. – Earth Realm Army." (If you think he’s good with only six sentences, you should see what he can do with seven or more.)

Redline

by Adam J. Whitlatch

The engine's roaring, but I can't hear it over the crunching guitars blaring from all eight speakers; this is what I live for - Heaven is one hundred and fifty-five miles-per-hour. Broken yellow lines blur into one, the landscape on either side of me fading into alternating green and brown streaks of trees and rock. Speed is my drug; hard, fast, face-tightening, gravity-altering, knuckle-whitening, teeth-gritting speed. Flashing red and blue lights flicker in my rear view mirror, issuing the latest challenge, and I smile – I haven't had a decent chase in a long time. Come on, 5-0, let's see what you've got under the hood of that Crown Vic. Fifth gear.

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Adam J. Whitlatch still has his first car, a candy apple red 1984 Chevrolet Monte Carlo affectionately named "Red Lightning." He longs for the day when his writing will pay him enough to bring Red out of the barn and back onto the highway where "she" belongs. At eighteen he lost his license for getting sixteen speeding tickets in a year (fifteen of those were in his father's Ford pickup). They couldn't catch the Monte. (Adam's full 6S catalog can be found here.)

Waste

by Adam J. Whitlatch

Before he died, my grandfather used to tell me stories about a time long ago, long before the bombs fell, when people didn't have to search for water; no one had to pillage abandoned, burned-out shopping centers for dust-covered bottles of imported water. He told us that people would relieve themselves in gleaming porcelain bowls filled with crystal clear water several times a day, and then flush their waste down a hole with gallons - gallons of clean, uncontaminated water. It used to flow magically into homes from multiple points called "taps" that would open with a mere flick of the wrist, and people would let precious water flow directly into a drain while they ran foamy bristled brushes over their teeth, then they would bathe in large tubs filled to the brim, sometimes spilling over the sides as they splashed and played. These of course were the times before the road pirates, the mutants, and the cults; long before men like me had to risk our lives and search for clean, uncontaminated water, fighting off these threats and sometimes worse. If only we had known then what we know now, maybe we wouldn't be in this mess; children wouldn't cry in their beds for a mere drop of disease-ridden muddy river water, livestock wouldn't be forced to drink their own recycled urine, and our dead wouldn't be processed to harvest every last drop of usable water from their bodies. My name is Matt Freeborn, and I am a Weller; I scour the wastelands for clean water so that you don't have to, so please do me one small favor... don't waste it.

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Adam J. Whitlatch is the author of the novel-in-progress "The Weller: Tales of the Wasteland," the story of a Weller named Matt Freeborn who travels the wastelands of post-World War III America in a souped up '71 Road Runner searching for clean, drinkable water. Adam supports Charity: Water, an organization dedicated to bringing clean water to people in Africa. Please watch this short video featuring Jennifer Connelly, then visit charitywater.org for more details.

Save One For Yourself

by Adam J. Whitlatch

I can hear them outside the room; scratching, moaning, and gnawing at the door like mindless animals, but then that’s exactly what they are, aren’t they? Only the sound of their moaning and their incessant attempts to break down the door keep me company as my final candle burns low and begins to sputter out. I check the heavy revolver in my hand and frown at the single remaining bullet in the cylinder, wishing I hadn’t needed the other bullet to put down my friend when he began to come back. “Save one for yourself,” he told me as he handed me the revolver just before he died. As the first ghoul’s hand bursts through the splintered wood, I press the barrel against the bottom of my chin and whisper a prayer as I slowly squeeze the trigger, but my heart stops as the hammer clicks loudly against the dud bullet. Oh, shit.

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Adam J. Whitlatch is the author of numerous horror and science fiction short stories, as well as the novel The Blood Raven: Retribution. He lives on a small farm in southern Iowa with his wife, Jessica, and their two children, where he continues to write new short stories and novels.

Hog Tamer

by Adam J. Whitlatch

With a trembling hand, I opened the garage door and tore off the dirty blue tarp. For a moment I just stared at the beautiful cherry red Harley Davidson motorcycle shimmering in the morning sun. My poor father wasn't man enough for this bike. I warned him. I told him he would never tame it, but he just wouldn't listen. "I'll tame you," I said, raising the sledgehammer high above my head.

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Adam J. Whitlatch, who gave us Save One For Yourself, is the author of numerous horror and science fiction short stories, as well as the novel The Blood Raven: Retribution. He lives on a small farm in southern Iowa with his wife, Jessica, and their two children, where he continues to write new short stories and novels.

Why They Fight

Six Sixes by Adam J. Whitlatch

Open publication - Free publishing - More six sentences

Adam J. Whitlatch leads us inside his novel, E.R.A. - Earth Realm Army, and inside the minds of his characters. To view the magazine, just click the document. You’ll be taken inside, where you can turn the pages by clicking the arrows to the left and right. Enjoy!

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Six Sentences? Yes indeed.

Fidelity

by Adam J. Whitlatch

David stares down at the blue denim-bound book nestled in his sweating palms. A lewd, drunken voicemail from a man he doesn’t even know led him to this book, tucked discreetly between the mattress and box springs. The book grows heavy in his hands and he almost considers putting it away, but can’t. He has to know the truth. His breath comes in ragged gasps as sobs of despair threaten to tear his heart to shreds. He swallows the sobs, takes a deep breath, steels his resolve, and with shaking hands he opens his wife’s diary.

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Adam J. Whitlatch, who brought us The Show Must Go On, is the author of several horror and science fiction short stories as well as the novel The Blood Raven: Retribution. He lives happily with his wife Jessica and their two children on a little farm in southern Iowa, where he continues to work on his new science fiction novel, E.R.A. – Earth Realm Army. Check him out on MySpace, and tell him that you read his work here on 6S.

Between Heaven and Hell

by Adam J. Whitlatch

Every person on the planet had their own little theory about what would happen when the Large Hadron Collider straddling the Franco-Swiss border was finally turned on; some thought it would create a black hole and the planet would be slowly sucked into oblivion. Other doomsday theorists speculated that the force of the high-energy collisions might erase the boundaries separating our world from any number of parallel dimensions, causing our worlds to blend together; most people laughed at that one, myself included. The most popular theory was that the high-energy collisions would ignite the atmosphere, reducing the Earth to a smoking cinder in a matter of minutes - I would have preferred this to the alternative - but all the speculation in the world couldn't have prepared us for what happened that cold October morning when scientists flipped the switch. Who could have guessed that the largest technological marvel ever created by man would rend gaping holes in the fragile cosmic fabric that comprised the boundaries of both Heaven and Hell, unleashing a flood of souls like water from a broken dam? Furthermore, who would have known that these souls, loosed from their respective astral realms would find their way back to their earthly bodies, crawling from burial crypts, pounding and clawing incessantly against sealed coffin lids, and lurching out of morgues all over the world? And who would have thought that they would be so hungry?

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Adam J. Whitlatch wants you to join the resistance TODAY.

Six Sixes by Adam J. Whitlatch

an Online Magazine from Six Sentences

Adam J. Whitlatch, be warned, is not for the feint of heart. To view the magazine (and it's recommended you do so with the lights on), just click the blue “OPEN PUBLICATION” tab above. You’ll be taken inside, where you can turn the pages by clicking the arrows to the left and right. To view a “full screen” version, once inside, just click the diagonal arrows above the document (located to the left of the little envelope). Enjoy!

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Six Sentences urges you to write. And when you're finished? Write some more.

Honey Do

by Adam J. Whitlatch

He smiles as he slathers extra mayo on his fried bologna and tomato sandwich, because he can have anything he wants for breakfast, damn it. His wife is out of town at a convention, and he is free to do whatever he wants. He struts through the kitchen in just his underwear, scratching himself with one hand and shoving the sandwich into his mouth in huge, dinosaur-sized bites with the other, just because he can. After finishing his sandwich he cranks the stereo, fills the sink with water, and begins the first task on the long list of chores she left for him: do the dishes, feed the dog, sort the laundry, mow the grass, take the kids to karate, vacuum the living room, mop the kitchen floor, clean the bathroom, take out the garbage, and finally at the bottom she scrawled, I love you, sweetheart. Why’d she leave him such a long list when he has the whole house to himself for the day? Because she can.

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Adam J. Whitlatch, author of Casey at the Bat, wrote this story while his wife was out of town for two days at a veterinary convention. He is the author of several science fiction and horror short stories and is currently hard at work on his second novel, "E.R.A. – Earth Realm Army." (So, if he only writes horror and science fiction, why did he write such a cute and humorous piece like "Honey Do?" Because he can.)