Cade Garza

@decayde.bsky.social

859 Followers 500 Following

If you ask to beta read my book you're getting blocked. Horror author, cryptid lover Newest book is The Rattle of Bones. Check out my link tree to order a copy and check out the synopsis. No AI. They/them https://linktr.ee/decayde

a redheaded woman with blue eyes, head tilted to the side as a black haired, pale skinned monster uses its tongue to pierce her eardrum. The piece is bathed in red shadow,and has a black and red background.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced unless for a book review, unless given written permission by the copyright owner. Written. As in, if I say, “Hey it’s cool man if you make a movie about this,” but it’s not in writing, then don’t. Also if this gets uploaded onto one of those pirating websites, could you at least make a donation to my kofi or something? Like, help me out here man. Buy a sticker or something. Or email me at cadegarzaauthor@gmail.com to tell me you liked it. Idk.
A shadowy figure in front of gas station doors. Blood is on the ground and doors, caution tape is on the sides. the words "Hazard Pay" and "Submissions open" are in text overlaying everything.
After Owen fixed his tire, he used both of his hands to wheel the bikes to the library. Noah was content to walk in silence, and it seemed like Owen was as well. Noah couldn’t help but think how nice this was, just existing in silence. If Noah hadn’t been a movie star, would he and Owen have been together? Would they have been able to make it work? It was a question that Noah had thought about before. His relationships with women had been fruitless and… ‘upsetting’ was the only word he could think of right then. There had been no romantic love, no sexual inclinations. He’d tried, god knows he tried. He’d managed to sleep with a few, though it had taken copious amounts of alcohol, to the point of being nearly blackout drunk. He’d woken up with a killer hangover and a woman he didn’t love complaining he was inattentive in bed.
“Okay, so, I may have cut up the one pair of sweatpants I could find to make you shorts. Also, Noah, no offense,” he snorted. “Noah Fence. Anyways, your mom did not wear anything but black and white, did she?” “No,” Noah sighed. “We need to wash our clothes, I guess. Alice, do you want me to grab your dirty clothes from your bag?” “No!” Alice’s eyes widened, and what blood was left in her body rushed to her cheeks. “There’s some… weird stuff in there I don’t want you to see.” “Okay,” Noah said after a few seconds. “Well, we need to wash our clothes. I’ll grab some of mine. I’ll get… something, to wash them in.” “I can do my clothes,” Alice said. “Owen can do them?” “What?” Owen blinked. “Why me?” “Well, because you guys have something in common-” Noah stopped short when Owen crossed his arms. Alice looked between the two men. There was something they were communicating silently, and she wasn’t sure what it was. Owen looked offended, but whatever it was perplexed Noah. Finally, Noah sighed. “Nevermind. We can all wash our own clothes.” “Damn right,” Owen grumbled. “I’m going inside.” He handed the clothes and shampoo to Noah, who leaned his head back with a groan.
“Oh, thanks!” She smiled at Noah. “I would like that.” “Yeah, we-” There was a flicker of movement outside of the patio door. It wasn’t enough for Noah to feel alarmed, but it caught his attention. His hazel eyes tried to track whatever it was, but he didn’t see it again. When he glanced back at the pair, Alice looked concerned, following his gaze. Owen’s brow was raised, and Noah cleared his throat. “Sorry. Yeah, we figured, well, Owen figured, that if all three of us get bikes, it would be easier for us to get around.” “Yeah, makes sense.” Alice glanced back at the window. The darkness was still, but Noah could feel it looming, pressing against the glass, as if it wanted in. He cleared his throat again, then stood. “I’m gonna close the windows,” he said as he crossed the room. “Probably a bad idea to have them open.” He closed the curtains, peering out to see if there was any more movement. There was none. He was back to his seat in time for Alice to take a bite of the applesauce.
“Unfortunately, yeah.” Owen sighed, shaking his head. “Fucking brutal.” “Yeah, it’s… it’s one thing, seeing people in makeup with fake blood on them. Special effects, stuff like that. But actually seeing someone become something…” Noah ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Nevermind.” “Dude, it’s fine, really. I understand. You can talk to me.” “And say what? We all saw the same thing. I wouldn’t be saying anything new.” “Noah,” Owen stopped, placing a hand on Noah’s shoulder. He was several inches shorter than Noah, but held his gaze steadily. “I’m going to be nice when I say this. Drop whatever toxic masculinity bullshit you’re holding on to. You can talk to me.” Noah sighed, half rolling his eyes. Should he tell Owen? “I… not yet. I’m not ready.” “Okay.” Owen shrugged. “Whenever you are, I’m here. I’m not gonna push. But just remember, I’m a great listener.”
A picture of Steve Carrel whispering "Don't" softly
A tweet that says "Awesome behaviour dude, seems really natural. Do you mind if I mimic it to appear human"
A book cover that says "The Rattle of Bones by Cade Gatza" in all caps. There is a skull next to a walkie talkie. The walkie talkie screen says "help." in the background is a sunset.
“I don’t know, I hope not. What don’t you like about her?” “I didn’t say I don’t like her, just the… ‘authentic self’ comment was weird. Do you think she clocked me?” “I don’t think she did. I didn’t even clock you at first.” Noah had been surprised by Owen, but not unpleasantly so. Sleeping with Owen had taught Noah something about himself he didn’t realize he needed to know. “Well, that’s good.” Owen cocked his head, a small smile spreading across his lips. “So, where am I sleeping? In here?” he waggled his brows. Noah laughed. “No, not yet.” The thought wasn’t unwelcome, but Noah didn’t want to jump to anything too soon. He’d missed companionship, but things were different. Noah might have been lonely while he had his career, but something told him to take things slow. “Well, I say ‘not yet,’ but-” “I’m teasing you, don’t worry. No rush. I don’t plan on going anywhere now that I’ve actually found people that aren’t, what’d you call them, munchkins?” “Yeah,” Noah coughed a laugh. “Alice came up with it. I kinda like it. Kinda macabre.”
A picture of a dog with the words "tail wagging stops" at the bottom
A piece taking place at sunset with a young man leaning against a stone wall. He is in a school uniform, with trees and bushes in the background. The words "Hey Ama! Getting into trouble without me?" are in speech bubbles.
Noah sat on his bed facing the figurines. He let out a breath, his eyes running over each one on the light oak dresser. The quiet of the room enveloped him, and he sucked in his lower lip, running his tongue over it. He threw up his hands. “Okay!” He slapped his hands on his knees. “So, I was found by some chick today. She’s a fucking fan. And I can’t decide if that’s awesome, or the worst thing to ever happen to me. And I’ve had a lot of shitty things happen to me.” He leaned his head back. “And Terrance,” he pointed at the crab. “I don’t wanna hear you say shit about me being lonely. I’ve been just fine this whole time.” Noah was met with silence, as he always was. The figurines never spoke back to him, only watched with glassy, dead eyes. Noah heaved a sigh, looking away from his ceramic friends. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, having someone else here. Sure, Alice had seen enough of his movies to recognize him, but maybe she wasn’t going to be a freak about it. Maybe she was totally normal. He blew out another breath, flopping back onto his bed. He closed his eyes, thinking about the possibilities of seeing her again. How would he even find her? She hadn’t said where she was staying specifically. Maybe if he went to the supermarket again, he’d find her. He sat up, beginning to unlace his shoes when he’d heard a faint noise. He paused, waiting to hear it again. He frowned, his blue eyes darting around his room.
A soft, wheezing breath, quiet enough that she would have missed it, came from behind one of the tall aisles. Alice’s heart thudded in her chest, and she could hear the blood pumping through her ears. She slowly reached for her gun, trying to carefully spot the culprit. Her headlamp found it; ashen fingers curled between the metal slats of the aisle. Large, sunken black eyes, a little girl, face framed with once blonde curls. The wheezing breath came from a mouth that hung slightly open, rows of sharp teeth protruding from behind the lips, hissing softly. Alice’s hand gripped the gun. She kept her eyes on the munchkin, watched it track her movements with its bulbous, nearly insect-like eyes. She pressed her lips into a thin line as her hand shook, holding her breath as she slowly began to pull the gun from its holster. The munchkin’s face changed from neutral curiosity to rage as Alice stepped on the bony hand of a corpse. It scaled the aisle, reaching the top faster than Alice could turn and run. It landed hard on her, knocking her to the ground and her gun from her hand. Pain erupted in her nose, and her eyes watered as she felt her braid being pulled upwards, angling her neck backwards unnaturally. She screamed.
Moonlight washes over a redheaded woman and a dark haired man. The woman is holding a gun to her chest as the man lays in her lap. The pair is wearing camo jackets, a dog lays under a sleeping bag in the bottom right corner with the man. A backpack is on the left of the drawing, with a water bottle next to it. In the upper right corner is a paper towel dispenser.
“Ah,” Noah said. Alice glanced over at him with a smile. He’d trimmed his beard pretty nicely. It was more scruff than anything. She felt flattered he’d done that for her. He looked great, aside from the thinness his beard had hidden. His neck was thinner, and she hadn’t noticed how veiny his arms had been. He’d always had nice hands, but he had obviously been starving. How had he lasted this long? “Don’t worry,” she assured. “I’ll show you everything you need to know.” She grabbed a few more seeds from the shelves. “Every once in a while, we’ll have to rotate crops, so the soil isn’t-” “Shh.” Alice paused. Silence. She waited, quieting her breaths. Silence was deceptive, even during the day. When nothing happened after a few moments, she took a deep breath to question him. Noah put a hand over her mouth, his eyes above them. Alice looked up. In the darkness waited a silhouette. It was small; childlike. It pressed itself against the ceiling, large, blank eyes absent of any reflective light. Its limp mouth hung slightly open, and small, raspy breaths escaped its lips. It was swallowed by its tattered clothes; baggy pants, a striped shirt, and grey tennis shoes.
The next few days went by slowly. Noah busied himself with whatever Alice asked of him, including showing her when he got his water from. The Colorado River was south of Noah’s home, and had been a place he’d rarely got to see when the world hadn’t burned down. It was four miles away, and the trip there and back was often arduous and draining. The heat of the summer didn’t make it better. “So,” Alice panted around mile two. The wheelbarrow in her hands squeaked slightly. “Why didn’t you move closer to the river?” “Like I said before, I like my house. Plus,” Noah shook sweat from his face. “I didn’t know how to kill those things, so if I came across one. I would have been dead.” Experiencing how they killed firsthand had been a sobering experience. “Well, now you know. We should talk about moving. A water source is important.” “Yeah.” Noah had no intention of moving. His arms ached, and he was often taken out for the day after getting back, but he knew the city well. It was his home.
a sketch of three octopus tentacles coming out of an eye.
Tabitha’s eyes flew open. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but she needed to pee. Miguel’s soft breath echoed gently off the walls of the tiled bathroom. She stood, body sore from the sheer amount of injuries she’d received in the last eight days, and quietly grabbed the flashlight. She felt for the door, and flicked the beam on when she quietly closed the door behind her. She thought she heard something, a faint voice outside. She paused, moving the light towards the door. Nothing. She continued into the men’s bathroom. She used it, wishing there was a way for her to flush it. She wished she could wash her hands, but the bullet wound would need to be flushed every once in a while, and they couldn’t spare the water for that. She left the bathroom, closing the door behind her gently. Tabitha… She paused, blinking. She slowly swung the flashlight beam into the convenience store, her heart beating quicker. Her lips parted as she heard it again. Taaaabitha… Mocking, teasing. She took a deep breath before gulping. Her mouth felt dry. She licked her lips, gasping as movement caught her eye. The beam found a figure, dressed in David’s clothes, blood sprouted over his chest where she’d shot him. As he lifted his head, she could see the hole where she’d taken the killing shot. He placed his hands on the glass door, shaking it once. “Tabitha.” His voice was demanding. Condescending. “Let me in, Tabitha. Don’t you wanna apologize for what you did to me? I know you feel bad. Come on. Let me in.”
A redheaded woman with a grey streak holding a blanket sitting in a chair. The chair has a book balancing on the arm, and in the shadows is a book case.
Josh Heuston smoldering at the camera
Swooshy lavender and baby blue flowers on a sketch pad
A screenshot of booktuber Laura Rae Says with the cover of Cade Garza's book The Rattle of Bones on screen. Behind Laur is a bookshelf and a Youtube movie clacker thingy.
Pink and purple flowers in swishy geometric shapes done with ink and alcohol markers
Before the sun sunk below the horizon, Noah showed Alice her room. It was the first room on the left, and when he opened the door, Alice gasped. It was beautiful; cream colored walls, sheer curtains in a soft eggshell, and a deep green duvet with a gorgeous white floral pattern. The pillowcases matched, and as she felt the cloth, Alice thought how the thread count must be through the roof. Noah made a grand, sweeping gesture with one hand. “Welcome to my mom’s old room,” he sighed. “Don’t let the king sized bed fool you, that woman spent her whole life too mean to ever lure in another man after my dad.” “It’s gorgeous,” Alice touched the leaves of a potted ivy that snaked its way along the walls. “Oh, this is fake.” “Yeah, she didn’t have a green thumb.” He didn’t step foot in the room, but glanced it over. His blue eyes were soft with… what, exactly? In the fading light, it was difficult for Alice to read his expression. She’d read in interviews that his relationship with his mother was contentious at times, though they seemed to smile big for the cameras. Was there more?
Screenshot of a discord message saying “Not sure if the chills I got are from The book or from anemia”
A tarot card depicting a hand on a hard wood floor, two unused bullets, and a pool of blood reaching for the hand.
“So,” he began, wanting to fill the silence. “Tell me about yourself. All I know is that your name is Amanda, and you’re a survivor.” She also knew where he lived, but he wasn’t going to think about that right then. Amanda laughed a little as she measured out some of the acorn flour. She had quite a lot of it. “Well, I graduated high school ten years ago. I then went to college two hours from my home town in Texas.” “Texas? You don’t sound like you’re from Texas.” “Yeah, I worked hard to get rid of the accent. Sometimes it slips out, when I’m mad. Let’s see,” she cracked the can of peaches open and began picking the peaches out with a fork she’d grabbed. “I had a dog named Simon that passed away last month, uh, my favorite color is pastel green,” she dumped the syrup in after she’d arranged the peaches the way she’d wanted them. “And I once ate a dog biscuit on a dare.” “I think we’ve all done that,” Noah admitted with a laugh.
I explore survival situations when the grid is down in The Rattle of Bones. Something I've always been worried about is how to survive with no power. A good chunk of the book is Tabitha and Miguel surviving off the land, and learning to rely on Tabitha's knowledge from her upbringing. I grew up in a hunting family. We lived in a camper for nine months with only a small faucet for water, and one single outlet for electricity. No cell phones. No internet. just the woods.
One of the hardest things about writing this book was confronting my own fear. People change, and sometimes not for the better. They become monsters, shells of who they were. They morph into something you can't reason with, so set in their ways, their heels digging deep into the ground as if admitting they're burning down everything they love would be worse than getting the help they need. Tabitha dealing with David terrorizing her is my way of confronting my own fears. If she can do it, I can do it too. Right?
I grew up in a contentious household. My stepfather was an alcoholic, and my mother tried to convince everyone that nothing was wrong. Any change in behavior makes me suspicious,and I found myself analyzing the way people acted. If they acted differently, more tense, too happy, etc, it was a sign something was wrong. I'm still hyper-vigilant of personality changes. One weird word, or too stiff of a movement, and I'm on guard. The mimics in the story reflect this. They can't impersonate people perfectly, and there are signs that they're not what you think. The way they present themselves as being the person they're mimicking shows these fears.
The Rattle of Bones was born out an old anxiety I have. I'm terrified of people I love being replaced with something else. Capgras syndrome is where you're afraid that the person you love is replaced with someONE else, but I'm terrified of a creature replacing my loved ones. Something so alien, that you can't possibly comprehend it. Something where you can't understand it's motivations, and you can't reason with it. I added Tabitha's brother as a lifeline via the walkie talkie(which she uses to communicate with him) because I'd want someone to be real, someone to represent hope in this awful situation. I gave her someone to cling to, because in a dire situation, hope is all you have.
A long, slimy, black tongue slithered out of its mouth. It wormed its way through rows of razor sharp teeth, tip pointed like a needle, and reached for Noah’s ear. Amanda didn’t want to shoot so close to Noah, but she had to do something, or he’d die a horrible death. Then, she’d be alone again. Noah slammed the munchkin against the shelves as Amanda took the knife from her belt. “Hold still!” She yelled. “Are you fucking crazy?” Noah obeyed, mostly, and Amanda rushed forward, grabbing the munchkin by the arm and pulling. It held fast, and Noah shrieked as its claws dug into his neck. Amanda jammed the knife into the back of the munchkin's neck, then pressed harder. It went limp, and fell to the ground, knocking some gardening supplies off of the shelf. Noah panted with Amanda, wincing as he pressed his hand to his neck. The munchkin whined, arms twitching as its mouth hung open. It kicked its feet uselessly, tennis shoes squeaking on the linoleum, dark red blood pooling around its body.
Picture of a computer with a keyboard in front of it, the screen on recording software.
The worst thing that could happen to Tabitha is losing her brother, Charlie. When face stealing creatures emerge, Tabitha must find Charlie amidst the chaos. She gets the help of a young neighbor, Miguel, who seeks to find his grandmother. When one of the creatures sets its sights on Tabitha, she fights to keep going. Is what she is seeing real, or is it a trick?
Estimated delivery: Friday, March sixth.