I loved my birthday no matter how old I got. Our MySpace site was blessed with people who left a lot of comments wishing me a happy birthday and I just never got tired of seeing it all! I did a special birthday poem and got more blog comments that way. God, I was having fun.
On top of that, I was in love with an angel from Tupelo, Mississippi named FlowerChild. She was a divorcee who was only thirty-five and was the brightest woman I’d had the privilege to meet online thus far. She wasn’t a writer but she wrote like one, and she worked in the deli department of a supermarket where she was in charge of making those wonderful party platters.
That FlowerChild was born only ten miles from the King [of rock n roll] made me love her even more. Ironically, she wasn’t a huge Elvis fan at all; something I just happened to overlook and forgive, as she was a fan of my books and had purchased all three copies in hardcover. FlowerChild loved reading and had excelled in it back in high school. She was going to attend Mississippi State, but she got pregnant and married, yes folks, in that order, and college had to wait.
Something about her was so refreshingly different and wonderful that I decided to give up flirting forever. I loved the hell out of her. I thought about her most all the time, and then some, to the point that she’s sort of like a billboard in my brain.
If things were going well for me, that afternoon they hit a peak. I heard back from that publisher I’d been in touch with for the past few months about my short story. Seems like they liked it so much that it would be put into a sexy horror anthology, which was going to be released by year’s end! Payment was okay but potential exposure was great. Not only that, I would finally have a legitimate new writing credit! I was one very happy man.
This excerpt features an email exchange from Private Dancer, one of Arlen Stevenson’s many online MySpace friends, to another woman who is in love with the zombie author. Only Arlen’s manager intercepts the missive. It serves as a strong warning about Arlen’s narcissistic ways.
Note: It’s been edited for length and the typos and misspellings are intentional to show the rawness of the exchange.
I opened up the email from Private Dancer.
I know you and Arlen have some kind of friendship going here. I know you flirt like hell that there is no harm either, well what you think is no harm. But I don’t know how far it’s gone. I am hoping I am wrong, and you didn’t go there to see him . please tell me you ddin’t and if you did, hun, all I have to say, GOD HELP YOU.
I am going to write some things I bet your bottom dollar he’s said to you. And he not only has told you, he has told all other women that he is woooing, sleeping with, or setting up to sleep with.
* Darlin, don’t listen to tehm, they don’t know what they are sayin.
* You know I love you & only you.
* Darlin I have to make those comments on the profile cause my manager tells me to cause it sells books.
* You are the most important thing to me and no one else.
* If you cant come to me, I will come to you.
* Once I [redacted] and we have sex, you know you are all mine, don’t you?
* If you come out here darlin, we will go to the lake house. Then you can meet my buddies and you can become a member of our private club.
* Once you are here darlin, I want to build you a log cabin for us to live in, and never leave. And you can manage and help me with the myspace and read my emails and comments, then you can help me weed out the ones you don’t want.
* (For those who are married) Darlin, don’t worry that you are married, I am too. She does her thing and I do mine. Your husband will never find out. We can meet some where he will never know… just you and me and have all the sex we want.
* You are the best in the world, you are the only one I love, you’re the only one I want to be with, none of the other women know about us, so don’t tell them. Be careful with your comments, or they might get wind of us.
* He is going to tell you don’t listen to me..but I can get in touch with all the women who are already in touch with me that he did the same with. The more you keep flirting dirty with him, the more serious he will get about meeting you, and will push youinto it or coherse you to making your mind up to doing it.
* He can’t understand why all the women have this thing for him. He is just a simple Southern smalltown boy. He isn’t a saint, but he never expected this to happen. He knows how bad he can be, but that would make all the other women jealous.
Arlen has ruined some marriages but he blamed the women. He didn’t tell them to come there, or have sex with him. He says this stuff to all the women, not just you. He has all the women believeing they are the only one, right down to sex and cooking and everything else…
I am just trying to let you know what he really is like. And that he doesn’t care no more about you and your feeling than any other woman. He just loves having them eating out of his hand and thinking he is their man, their god, their sex machine…..
If you want to keep it up…fine I cant stop you. But you need to know the truth… remember if he isn’t doing things or saying things to you, he is to other women, and he will hurt them emotionally and blame them for it…
I was glad that Arlen pointed it out, and that I was quick enough to save it. I filed it, not fully contemplating what I had just read. And it was still going on.
An author of zombie fiction, Arlen J. Stevenson uses his writing ability to entice his online victims. He flirts with them via email or instant messages. But what happens when he meets his online match?
I posted my short story Zombies At The Kings Country Buffet. The comments came pouring in and I was winning more subscribers and more fans. Some of those ol’ gals were bringing in other ol’ gals. I was sent pictures of some of ‘em and lots of private email addresses and phone numbers. To say my calendar was getting kinda full was a huge understatement. God, I loved MySpace!
A few days later I found time to chat with [my manager] Helena on the IM but I had to remain hidden or else I would’ve been inundated with gals wanting to chat. We discussed the overwhelming success of my short story that had been on my web site for years, but over here it had garnered over 60 comments. Danielle in Odessa, Texas wrote about my witty horror tale, saying she was laughing and crying at the same time and she would stay far away from buffets in the future. BlueEyedBlonde wrote, in part: “you have quite a sense of humor about you (Thank GOD!!!) I enjoy your writings…”
Gillian in North Carolina: “I don’t care bout no dam zombies but what you tell me is that u got some balls great big size and I love you writeing”
Frankinzombie: “Because Im a loser baby,now why dont you kill me, that is If I turn into a zombie. Its all fantasy,we know about reality,work,hot girlfriend who likes expensive things,and talks to much while your watching a football game, giving your bud some $ to score some bud, and dosnt show up till the next day,wop-ass time,i know you been pinching my bag mo-fo,escape from reality,til zombies really happens,its comming soon”
Robbi Zombie: “Arlen, you are 1 of the finest zombie writers in your genre. Not only do you maintain a level of tension, but it’s interlaced with lots of humor. I wish I could give you 10 kudos!”
Then it happened. Some firefighter in a small town of South Hampton, Alabama wrote about wanting a speaker at his Christmas party—and the man even gave an amount. That would be enough to buy a new computer. Things were lookin’ up!
An author of zombie fiction, Arlen J. Stevenson uses his writing ability to entice his online victims. He flirts with them via email or instant messages. But what happens when he meets his online match?
lisa maliga 