Fiction Fest: A free taste of Michael Bast’s ‘Death’s Academy’

Death's-Academy-2x3As one of just two fiction releases this month, Michael Bast’s debut novel, “Death’s Academy,” will get plenty of the Fiction Fest spotlight by month’s end. But that’s okay, we love doling out the love for our authors and their books.

If you like a story in which unicorns are the bad guys, then this book is for you!

The Death’s Academy entrance exam for Midnight Smith is quickly approaching. There’s just one problem: Midnight is the worst exam taker the academy has ever seen. If Midnight wants to ever step foot inside the school, he’ll have to join forces with the hated Guardian Angels, and together face the deadliest creatures in the world—the dreaded Unicorns. Becoming a Grim Reaper has never been more hilarious!

“Death’s Academy” will be released on Jan. 14, but you can pre-order it right now from online retailers.


Midnight Smith has stolen his aunt’s, a Death for chipmunks, hit list and is sizing up the chipmunk he needs to dispatch. The problem is, he’s never done this before, and those chipmunks can be crafty little nuisances.

You see that chipmunk over there? I’ve got to make sure it’s dead in less than three minutes. Don’t make that face—it’s my job.

No, no, not the cute fuzzy guy with the acorn. The creature next to “Mister Precious”—the one with the tufts of fur missing, a chipped front tooth, and an ear lopped off. Yeah, that gruesome monster.

As you shorties say, “His time’s up.”

“What’s a shorty?” you ask.

Do me a favor. Go into a bathroom, find a mirror, spin on the spot ten times and take a glance at what’s starin’ back at you. Yep, you’re a shorty. (Why spin ten times first? No reason. Just wanted to see if I could make you yak).

All right, all right, a shorty is someone who has a clock on ’em. Someone who is going to die one day. Someone not like me.

I’m a Death. Well, I’ll be one soon enough. I’ve got to go through Death’s Academy and get my shroud and calling. If I do well enough at the academy and get enough golden sickles, who knows, maybe I’ll be paying you a visit one day.