Category: Dead Park series

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Dead Park 101

“There’s so many books in the series. Which one comes first? Will I be lost if I read the wrong one first? And what’s it all about?”

We hear you, and we want to make it easy. So to help anyone new to Dead Park find their way, we offer this class 101 in all things Dead Park.

What is it, what inspired it, what’s in each book, and why you should read them all!

Book 1: Dead Park Plaza

The book that started it all was inspired by my father and 20+ years dwelling in cubicles for tech companies and manufacturers. You meet a lot of people working in an office. Some good, some bad. And when you’re a writer with an active imagination, you can conceive quite a bit of horror from those interactions.

Thus Dead Park Plaza was born: a four story office building inhabited by evil companies, evil bosses, and employees ranging from total innocents to total depravity. the first book contains stories about bosses making deals with the devil, employees going tribal when management suddenly drops dead, corporations changing management not by swapping bodies but entities that dwell in the same body, and of course… secretaries seeking revenge against their cannibal cult bosses.

Book 2: The Shops at Dead Park

I wasn’t thinking series when I wrote Dead Park Plaza, but I inadvertently opened the door for one by stating that Dead Park Plaza was build in the grounds of a top secret military base, along with a shopping mall and a very nice suburb. Book 2 takes you shopping in an outdoor strip mall where the Mothman can be seen at the froyo stand. You’ll find some retro anomalies at the mall like a video arcade, a video rental store (that still offers VHS, Betamax, and Laser Disc!), and of course, Radio Shack.

Then there are the unfortunate anomalies: killer clowns, killer puppets, killer prom queens with chainsaws, killer arcade games, killer Amish men, and mannequins that… well, they haven’t killed yet, but they sure love to gossip.

Book 3: Dead Park Records

Book 3 is unique for a few reasons. It’s a standalone story, adapted from a screenplay I wrote more than 20 years ago. It’s also the only book that takes place almost entirely outside of Dead Park, even though Dead Park Records is headquartered – where else? – in Dead Park Plaza. It’s also much more of an action thriller than horror.

Dead Park Records can make anyone into a rock star – for the right price. It doesn’t matter if you’re good or not, or if you have any modicum of talent. For some it’s just a matter of selling your soul – or being willing to take the life of someone you never met, no questions asked!

Book 4: Dead Park Estates

Our journey into the suburbs of Dead Park returns us to the short story format of the first two books. Book 4 takes you to a cryptid poker game and the local indie wrestling show. Because of course, Dead Park has pro wrestling. And of course, Bigfoot is one of the star attractions.

You’ll also meet a killer doll with teeth and visit a yard sale where you may or may not be able to buy the belongings of one D.B. Cooper. One word of warning: do not open the doors during the neighborhood’s annual zombie walk. No, they’re not actually zombies, but they will kill you for other reasons!

Fun side bar: there’s a tie in between Dead Park Estates and our sci-fi novel Die Alan Die. And it won’t be the last connection made between the two. More to come…

Book 5: Return to Dead Park

In Book 4, Dead Park Estates, I started laying the ground work for the end game of the Dead Park story, thinking book 5 would be the end. You can imagine my surprise when I started writing and discovered I had more Dead Park Plaza stories to tell.

Book 5 has some of my favorite stories, including one that explains what happens if you’re late on your rent payments (hint: blood is required!) and another story based on an old screenplay about an inter-office affair that goes horribly, horribly wrong. It also introduces Charles, but only briefly. You’ll read more about him in…

Book 6: Dead Park Classified

Book 6 could have been the end, but at the suggestion of a loyal reader, I decided to go back in time to reveal some of the events that took place on the old, top secret military base. Charles, the chupacabra, gets his moment to shine in this book, and Emily, the would-be murder victim from Dead Park Records, returns as a central character.

There are numerous short stories here, but the entire book is framed about Emily’s discovery that her parents were… well, I won’t give it away here. Let’s just say that back during the Cold War, the Russians were well aware of the plot to use cryptids to hunt and kill their spies. Emily’s story comes to a dramatic close here, along with a love story woven into books 1, 3, and 4.

There are at least two more books on the way. Book 7 will be called Dead Park Holiday, because after six books, I couldn’t resist throwing a Christmas-themed chapter into the saga. Book 8 may well be the finale. I’m finally starting to see how it all comes together but… I’ve been trying to end this series for 3 books now, and have failed to do so!

The entire series is available in paperback or Kindle as a bundle on our website. To shop all the Dead Park options, click here!

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Thank you, Charles

The latest Dead Park book, Dead Park Classified, tells the story about Dead Park’s past. You want to know what happened at the secret military base that once stood where Dead Park Plaza and the Shops at Dead Park now sit? Your time has come.

Dead Park Classified also pays off a bit from Return to Dead Park. It reveals the secrets behind the tiny, white dog sitting on a desk watching old 1960s television. It reveals that Charles is actually… well, the term “chupacabra” wasn’t known in the year the story takes place, but that’s exactly who he was.

And like all the cryptids who worked at the Lead Park Munitions Plant, Charles had one job: hunt and kill Russian spies.

Charles, of course, was inspired by my own dog. His full name was Charlie, but we shortened it to the more dignified Charles, largely because dignified was the exact opposite of who he was.

Charles was a cantankerous old fellow. He hated a leash, didn’t need one. We took him out every morning, and he peed and pooped right on the driveway.

Charles slept in the bed most of the time we had him. He loved watching TV. In fact, if there was a storm outside, he had to watch TV. Not just any TV program would do on a story night, either. It had to be Community. I kid you not. If we turned on Community, he’d settle and go to sleep.

Don’t get me wrong. Charles was not bright. He just had his ways. An we were constantly learning new things about him, even in his latter years. He developed a taste for pumpkin last Halloween.

Correction: he developed food aggression over pumpkin last Halloween!

Sadly, as you might have guessed, Charles is no longer with us. He passed right before the release of Dead Park Classified, which is why the book is also dedicated to him.

Charles is missed every day. We miss his happy dances, his utter refusal to obey a simple command (Sit? What’s sit?), his crusty face, the occasional snuggles, and his perpetual little man syndrome.

But Charles will live on thanks to Dead Park. He’s part of the story. Not only that, he’s on every single page of our website. Yep, that’s him, peeping out at you on the banner images of every page.

Always watching, wondering what the hell you’re doing, and when you’re going to give him another hash brown.

There’s already a new dog in the office, and I’ll probably write about her another time. But this post is for Charles. Thank for the memories, old guy. Wish you were here to bask in your big moment. Not that it would mean anything to you in the slightest.

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People of Dead Park: Candace is a Survivor

There’s a reason I gave the name Candace to the leading lady in “Lord of the Files,” one of the cornerstone stories in Dead Park Plaza. Simply put: Candace is a survivor.

I don’t mean in the normal ways society labels people as survivors. Very specifically, she’s a survivor of the corporate cubicle jungle.

Candace came in every day, Monday through Friday, and sat a desk or two away from me. Monday mornings, the fun began in earnest around 10. That’s when her biggest VIP customer called to tell Candace everything she did wrong with the order he just received.

Not that she, personally, committed every – or even the lion’s share – of errors. But he took it out on her anyway.

Candace juggled phone calls, emails, and faxes for 8-10 hours every day. She did it all with grace. True grace under fire. She might argue with me over that, but I know what I saw. She was unflappable. Indefatigable. She never gave up.

Until the company gave up on her.

I already shared the story about the Queen of Throat Punch Thursday and the day they let her go. The day Candace was let go, well, that was just as bad. Contrariwise, the day our boss was let go… well, there was catharsis.

I was the one to walk Candace out that last day. We’ve caught up here and there over the years, but as of this writing it’s been a while. She once tried her hand at modeling, and one of the photos she took was morphed into a book cover for me.

It was an honor to go to war with that lady. That’s why I chose to honor her, naming the heroine in one of the most absurd stories I ever wrote after a lady who truly could survive an office at war and live to tell about it.

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I broke his arm, he still became my best man

It was the summer of 1997. I had just finished college. Tyler Bradley (far right in the photo above in the red shirt, posing with Reese Ramone, Smoky Mountain legend Bobby Blaze, and me) still had a year of high school left. I returned to CIY conference as an adult leader for my church’s youth group because Tyler had given me an ultimatum. “If you don’t go, I’ll kill you.”

The two of us met the summer before at CIY in my drama workshops. He lived three hours away on the border of Kentucky and West Virginia. Yes, Dead Park readers, right in that area where Dead Park itself is now set. I helped him get his own drama team up ant running at his church. We met up to see the re-release of Star Wars: The Special Edition when it was brand new. Sorry, fellow die hards, I like the CGI dewbacks and still do.

On the last night of CIY Tyler took part in a skit on the main stage. In front of 1100 kids, he raced out as a paramedic, picked up a lifeless Richard Simmons (long story), and attempted to carry him off stage with another actor. Tyler went backwards. He tripped over a guitar cord.

I laughed. All 1100 kids laughed. His youth pastor laughed, especially when I had to tell him, “Tyler broke his arm.”

“I’ll get the van and take him to the ER.” Thanks, Mark. And rest in peace.

Tyler and I have been buds ever since. He lived with me for a brief time. He became, ironically, a paramedic. We almost wrote a musical about it. “Start your day with a DOA, doo dah, doo dah.” And yes, he was the best man at my wedding.

Tyler’s read more of my stuff than probably anyone. He’s been in several short films and lent his voice to many more. And in late 2025, when I decided I needed a new look and new covers for the Dead Park book series, he’s the one who said, “Oh yeah, I can do that.”

“Can we do it horror but also, art deco?”

“No problem.”

So this is my Tyler Bradley appreciation post, for all he’s done for me, for all the sharpening of iron he’s done to make the crazy things I write better. And believe me, we’re far from done.

Incidentally, the trip to Ashland when we went to see Star Wars together? There’s a story in Dead Park Classified, the six book in the series coming very soon, that honors that memory.

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Ken/Mark: The horror of being the new guy at the office

I had a pretty good job when I got married. If the pay was better, and if the bridges to Louisville were not about to undergo major renovations, I might have stayed.

I might have stayed long enough to not longer be the New Mark.

My predecessor was not named Mark. I don’t remember his name, which is surprising because I heard it almost every day I was at the job. I wasn’t John to my boss, who in all fairness was a very nice lady named Carol. I was the New Mark.

It was honestly a cushy job. I spent about a third of my time at a desk and the rest of the time running around a warehouse. I pulled samples of our products – eyeglasses – and shipped them to off to our sales reps.

It was easy. It was fun. Ownership was stand-offish, but management was terrific. Everyone wore jeans in the winter and shorts in the summer. I never, ever had to wear a shirt with a collar.

Carol made sure to ask about that when I handed in my resignation. “You’re going to have to wear slacks and collars and dress shoes.”

“I know,” I said. I did not add that I would no longer be labeled as the New Mark. But I definitely thought about it.

Staying the New Mark might not have been as lucrative in the short run, but it would have been more pleasant. Hindsight, you know.

My stint as “The New Mark” came to me years ago as I was working on book five in the Dead Park series. My plan for book five, originally, was to do a flashback book, telling the backstory of Dead Park when it was a military base. That book is coming very soon. But book five ended up being more office-related catharsis.

Again, I had no issues with Carol, with the place I worked, or with the job itself. It was active. It was fun. It was something I easily left at the door when I clocked out at 4:30 every afternoon.

But being The New Mark led to some creative thoughts. What if someone at Dead Park was The New Mark? What if, over the course of a few weeks or months, they literally became the employee his new boss missed?

I didn’t have a Jekyll and Hyde story. Now I do. You can read “Ken/Mark” in the book Return to Dead Park, a second compilation of work-related horror stories (and book five in the series).

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People of Dead Park: Chuck from Dead Park Records

Dead Park Records by John Cosper

The hero, if you can call him that, of Dead Park Records is a hapless, aspiring musician who is offered a devil’s deal. Chuck’s friend, a concert promoter, introduces him to a recording executive who will make his rock n roll dream come true. All Chuck has to do is murder a girl he’s never met – no questions asked.

While there’s no one person who inspired the character of Chuck, the idea behind the story came from my old friend Stephanie. Stephanie and I met through a church group, and we spent a lot of time going to the movies when she was home from college. We watched a lot of teen comedies in the late 90s and early 2000s. I’m pretty sure Get Over It, one of my favorite of the genre, was one of them.

One night, Steph told me about a friend of hers who had a job fulfilling the rider agreements for concert artists. If you’re not familiar, the rider is a secondary contract that all artists require and all concert promoters must follow to the letter.

Rider agreements are a necessary evil, giving artists some control over the food and accommodations at every stop. Some have special dietary needs, for example, and no one wants to eat the same thing (pizza again??) at every stop. But the bigger the artist becomes, the more demanding and extravagant the demands can be: new carpeting, new furniture, fresh flowers, an endless variety of food, and a ridiculous amount of booze.

Stephanie’s friend told her that many artists also had unwritten requests that had to be fulfilled. Items that couldn’t be put in writing because, well, they’re illegal. You can guess what those special requests might include.

It was that conversation that inspired a screenplay called “The Rider.” The screenplay went through several drafts over the years, but it finally say the light of day more than two decades later. That’s when I adapted the story into the Dead Park universe.

While all the other books in the Dead Park series are a compilation of multiple short stories, Dead Park Records tells one single story. It felt fitting to let this story, once a film script, stand on its own. Perhaps one day it’ll be adapted back into film. Until then, you can enjoy the Dead Park version of the story, complete with boy bands, a cappella groups, and more all hell-bent on committing murder – just to get a recording contract.

Order your copy of Dead Park Records now.

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People of Dead Park: Mr. Puppet

Several years ago, I was into puppets. I made a while series of short films starring Clive, a one-of-a-kind Zombie Puppet I discovered on eBay and just had to have. We had a lot of fun carving up other puppets, filling their heads with Spaghetti-Os, and subverting a few conventions of the zombie genre.

 

Oddly enough – Clive was not the inspiration for Mr. Puppet, the mysterious denizen of the Dead Park mall toy shop. Mr. Puppet was a creation of my kids and their best friends.

Sam and Lydia – now 16 and 17 – have three life-long best pals who live just five minutes away. They had countless sleepovers when they were little, and as kids do, they invented some games and traditions all their own. Some of them were charming. One was disturbing.

The kids had a few puppets of their own they played with, along with some of mine. (Clive was NOT among them. One of the friends, in particular, was terrified of him and may still be.) They would gather in the basement around one of these puppets, and we’d hear them chanting:

Mr. Puppet, Mr. Puppet, come alive!

Come alive on the count to five!

One… two… three… four… five!

There would then be lots of screaming and running in the dark. I’m still unclear what was happening at that point.

Years later, as I was brainstorming for The Shops at Dead Park, the Mr. Puppet chant came to mind. I adopted it straight into the story, creepy chant and all. Of course my version of Mr. Puppet turned out to be much darker and more sinister than the one the kids played with. But in fairness, Mr. Puppet never harmed children. Only naughty teenagers. As you would in a horror story.