Richard Schiver: free horror fiction

Showing posts with label free horror fiction. Show all posts

Free Read Friday: F is for Funghi Pt VIII

F is for Funghi

Part VIII

Follow this link to read the story from the beginning: HERE

Sign up to be notified when I update my blog, click HERE!

After recording five minutes of the treadmill he worked his way back to his equipment and finished setting it up. After establishing a five minute loop he flipped the switch to start the replay. Static hissed from the speakers and he adjusted the gain to blanket it. Faintly he heard the recording of the treadmill coming from the speakers and he twisted the volume dial all the way up, filling the basement with sound. They were out of sequence, the two separate sounds coming a split second apart, agitating the creatures around Nadine. Large thorns and assorted other piercing and cutting objects sprouted from their slender bodies and he hurriedly adjusted the speed of the replay to synchronize the two different, yet similar, sounds.

The creature closest to the speakers drifted towards the recorded sound, gathering around the twin speakers to dance in time with the steady thrumming. Slowly he turned the volume up, blanketing the sound of Nadine’s treadmill, drawing even more of the creatures to the speakers.

With a path cleared to the treadmill he raced over and got Nadine’s attention. Her eyes were bloodshot, her breathing came in ragged gasps, her hands grasping the bars so tight her knuckles looked like they were about to break through her skin.

“You can stop,” he said, motioning to the creatures that were now gathered around the speakers.

She shook her head silently, determined to see this to the bitter end, and he pointed at the speakers, turning her head against her will until she could see what was happening. She stopped then, that brief pause causing a flurry of activity to wash through the creatures who quickly settled down to continue dancing.

“We gotta get out of here, can you walk?”

Nadine nodded, took two steps off the treadmill, and collapsed into his arms. Holding her close he raced to the door and slipped through, closing it behind him, muting the recorded sound of the treadmill.

On this side of the door the basement was clear of that invading creature. The concrete block walls still white, but as he watched a faint pattern of darker lines appeared, growing thicker and darker with every passing second. All around them the pattern spread out across every available surface, those searching fingers of night reaching out from the other side of the wall where Nadine’s workout room was.

“We’ve gotta get out of the house,” he said as he lowered her to her feet.

“No! We can’t,” she replied, panic flashing in her eyes, “I can’t go outide.”

“We can’t stay here.” He pointed at the growing lattice work of searching vines that were racing across the walls around them, trying it seemed to block their escape.

He grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the narrow stairs, the walls to either side were already covered, small tendrils of night growing from the surface, reaching across the space to create a barrier. He plowed through the narrow vines, ripping and tearing his way up the steps as panic rushed through his body and his heart thundered in his chest.

They had almost made it, the faint glimmer of the door only inches away from his fingertips, when Nadine’s hand was ripped from his.

“No!” he screamed as he turned back to see her vanishing into a vine packed maw that slowly retreated down the steps. He tried to follow, intent on saving her, her screams muted by a dense layer of tentacles that lashed out at him with razor sharp thorns, laying open his cheek, slicing through the flesh of his arm as he raised it to protect himself.

He retreated, falling back into the kitchen, the image of Nadine vanishing into that squirming morass burned into his mind. Sure, she was a pain in the ass at times, but she surely didn’t deserve what happened to her. For the first time in a long time he was overcome by sadness. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt since his mother died when he was a child.

On its heels followed another, more familiar sensation, that sense of finally being free. It reminded him of when he was released from prison the first time, finishing a 2 year stint for burglary. It was a lightening of the spirit that put a spring in his step.

Nadine was no more, and as he thought this he heard the steady thump of the treadmill in the basement. They had gotten what they wanted and as he looked around the spotless kitchen he realized he was truly free for the first time in his life. She had money in the bank, more than he would ever need, and as her husband he had access to it.

He didn’t need to stay here any longer, he could move on with his life, never work another and life a live of leisure. Pushing himself to his feet he worked out what he would have to do to get access to her cash. Her bank card was in her pocketbook still sitting on the counter, and he knew her pin number.

It would be a piece of cake to drain her account over the next few months and set himself up wherever he wanted to go. The world was his and as he crossed to the counter he realized the steady thrumming in the basement had stopped.

Had she worn herself out?

It started again and he smiled, let her run herself to death if that’s what she wanted, he was getting out of this place. As he searched through her pocketbook he didn’t hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs beyond the basement door. Nor did he notice the vines emerging from the walls around each door and window. He was focused on more important things as the door behind him swung open with a faint squeal he’d always promised her he would fix.

He did feel the icy hand on his shoulder, the sensation of something spreading across his chest and back, and when he spun around Nadine was waiting for him. But it wasn’t really Nadine anymore. It had her face, and her body, but what lived in the depths of her eyes was anything but the soul of the woman he’d married. It was an alien thing that lived in her gaze, watching him with a cold indifference.

He felt the tentacles spreading across his chest and back. Climbing his neck and spreading out around his head, probing his lips, his nose, and his ears as a sweetly sinister voice whispered in his mind.

“Relax, this will only take a moment.”

THE END

If you've been enjoying what you've read why don't you stop by my one of my Author Pages listed below to check out my other work.

Amazon

Barnes N Noble

Itunes

Become a member of my

readers group and get a

free starter library.

That's 2 complete novels and a

collection of short stories.

Absolutely Free!

Free Read Friday: F is for Funghi Pt VII

F is for Funghi

Part VII

Follow this link to read the story from the beginning: HERE

Sign up to be notified when I update my blog to keep abreast of the story, click HERE!

He tried to work out what manner of creature this was, only to come up empty. There was nothing within the grasp of his understanding to explain what this thing was. Only that it was huge, and had obviously been spreading for some time through the Morison’s house.

When was the last time he’d seen them? He wondered, aware that it had at least been several months. Had this thing been growing inside all that time?

What he could see of the basement was a dense forest of interlaced vines. Nothing looked as it should, and every available surface had been covered by these invading objects. The bar that once stood along the wall was wrapped in a layer of intertwined vines that pulsed in time with the steady thrumming sound so reminiscent of a heartbeat.

With a voice like the rice crispies cereal of his childhood, that impenetrable wall of vines grew behind him, pushing him down a narrow artery toward the sound pulsing through everything around him. He came to a wider room, the thrumming pulse so loud it wrapped itself about him, invading his body, his thoughts, matching the steady beat of his own heart stride for stride.

In the center of the room he saw her. Surrounded by a forest of these primitive things that seemed to be dancing in time with the steady rhythm coming from the treadmill she was running on. Sweat glistened against the flesh of her face, her eyes fixed on an object he could not see, her face set in a mask of disturbed concentration.

Onward she ran, her slender legs scissoring in a steady rhythm as she kept her pace on the treadmill. She was clinging to the handle with white knuckled hands and as he got closer he saw that she was far from enjoying herself. He had the impression she was no longer exercising, but was running for her life, the slender appendages surrounding her were weaving back and forth in time with the steady rhythm of her feet on the treadmill.

Were they feeding on her misery? The thought stopped him cold as he took in the slender objects gathered around her in a dense crowd. They stood no more than two feet high, like supple tree branches with little to no distinguishing features to tell one from the next. At their base they were each connected to the other by an interlaced network of smaller vines that formed a latticework pattern on the painted concrete.

As he approached she turned her head and spotted him, her eyes growing wide in surprise as he gingerly made his way through the dense crowd that parted to permit him access.

“Can you stop?” He asked, and she shook her head silently. She was winded, struggling to maintain her pace, her face a mask of fatigued terror.

What could he do to save her? He wondered as he looked around the basement at the discarded electronic equipment scattered along the walls. How could he get her out of there? What would happen if she stopped running? The questions chased one another though his mind as he struggled to come up with a solution. His gaze fell on his old recording equipment, he’d put together tracks for a couple of local bands when he was much younger, driven by the hope of discovering something big. A hope that never panned out.

He looked back at the treadmill, at Nadine’s faltering step, the steady sound of her running missing several beats. She was winding down. The creatures became agitated at the interruptions, their smooth surfaces sprouting wicked barbed thorns that quickly smoothed over as the beat picked up again.

She was literally running for her life.

If he recorded her running, maybe he could get her out of here, get both of them out of here before those things turned nasty. The thorns had looked like they were quite capable of tearing a person to shreds. Was that what happened to the Morison’s? He turned away from that line of reasoning, focusing instead on getting his old equipment back together.

Confidence eluded him as he struggled to put his system back together. It had been too many years since he’d fooled with it, and he worked clumsily at first, then more confidently as muscle memory resurfaced to guide him. Soon he was ready and he cautiously approached the treadmill, taking care to avoid those dancing things gathered around her, the memory of those wicked thorns not far from his thoughts.

To be continued!

If you've been enjoying what you've read why don't you stop by my one of my Author Pages listed below to check out my other work.

Amazon

Barnes N Noble

Itunes

Become a member of my

readers group and get a

free starter library.

That's 2 complete novels and a

collection of short stories.

Absolutely Free!

Free Read Friday: F is for Funghi Part VI

F is for Funghi

Part VI

Follow this link to read the story from the beginning: HERE

Sign up to be notified when I update my blog to keep abreast of the story, click HERE!

A slender object emerged from the weeds, slithering across the deck towards him as other movement came from the weeds around him. He twisted the door knob in his hand, his palm slick with sweat against the cool metal surface, leaning into the door with enough force to cause the glass of bow as the door creaked in its frame.

He twisted the knob savagely back and forth as that slender object reached his booted foot, and he lifted it from the deck.

“Get away from me,” he screamed as he stomped on the object, causing it to retreat hastily, dragging its broken tip across the boards of the deck. It was then he saw other slender appendages reaching up through the narrow openings between each board. Hundreds of them it seemed. One tapped the top of his boot, probing the leather surface, and he danced away with a strangled cry of terror.

The door popped open, swinging out, and he quickly darted into the shadowy interior of the house. From behind the safety of the closed door he watched those slender tentacles as they grew from between the boards, weaving back and forth in time to the beat of a silent song. Shaken, covered in a layer of sweat that lay cold against his skin, he turned to the interior of the house, trying to put the image of those tentacles out of his mind.

It appeared he had just jumped from the frying pan into the fire. The walls of the house were covered in a lattice work of slender tentacles that moved in time with the same unheard song. They covered every available object around him save the floor that lay barren in the shadows.

From the depths of the house came that steady sound, the thrumming he’d grown quite familiar with over the time he’d been married. Like the steady beat of some massive heart it marked the passing seconds as he carefully ventured into the deeper shadows.

Coming to the foyer at the front of the house his eyes were drawn to two shadowy objects hanging in the space a crystal chandelier once occupied. Covered in a dense lattice work of small vines, it was readily obvious that beneath them he would probably find the bodies of Jack and Estelle. He felt no sorrow at their passing, only fear that he might join them unless he found a way out.

The front door was covered by a dense layer of interwoven vines that prevented him from opening the door. Among the tangled masses he spotted movement as several of the smaller vines slithered across the larger ones, securing the exit. The front windows offered no escape either as he went from one to the next, the wooden frames invisible beneath a dense layer of gray colored vines that were very much alive, though they appeared dead.

As he moved through the house he remained unaware of the steady movement behind him, vines rose from the walls stretching across to their brethren to create an impenetrable barrier. After checking the last window on the front of the house, he turned to retrace his steps, only to find his path blocked. He had no other choice, he had to continue in the direction he had been going as it was the only way open to him.

He was being corralled, directed to a destination he had yet to understand. Passing through the dining room that steady beat grew louder all around him, it was the only sound in the house, and as he passed through the room he came to the opening that led down into the bowels of the house.

That steady thrumming sound was coming from those shadowy depths and he stopped at the top of a slanted corridor fully encased by intertwined vines, some as thick as his thigh, and he knew he had reached the heart of this strange beast. From below came that familiar sound, that of the treadmill, accompanied by the running footsteps of someone, most likely Nadine, running full tilt.

The interlaced vines behind him pushed him towards that narrow opening and he tried to keep from falling into that shadowy maw. But it was no use, he was powerless against the combined strength of this alien thing, and before he knew it he was tumbling headlong down that dim corridor.

To be continued!

If you've been enjoying what you've read why don't you stop by my one of my Author Pages listed below to check out my other work.

Amazon

Barnes N Noble

Itunes

Become a member of my

readers group and get a

free starter library.

That's 2 complete novels and a

collection of short stories.

Absolutely Free!

Free Read Friday: F is for Funghi Pt V

F is for Funghi

Follow this link to read the story from the beginning: HERE

Sign up to be notified when I update my blog to keep abreast of the story, click HERE!

The walk around the block was both uneventful and much too short. At Persimmon street he turned right for the final leg of his journey. All of the streets in their sub-division had been named after assorted fruits, flowers, and trees. Persimmon was intersected by Elm and Maple that formed one block with Elderberry being the street they lived on. As he neared the Morison’s the day that had started out bright and sunny, suddenly became overcast and dreary.

Their front yard mirrored the back with overgrown grass creating a perimeter around the split level structure that sat back from the street. The window shades were drawn, giving the house that abandoned look, and as he slowly walked down the street he noticed that the houses around the Morison’s had taken on that same appearance. Their yards in the early stages of becoming overgrown. Shades drawn against the sunlight, that overwhelming sense of abandonment spreading out from the Morison’s to strangle the life from the neighbors around them.

It was a wonder the homeowners association was allowing this. Maybe they weren’t aware of what was happening. Maybe there had been no time to alert them.

His footsteps had taken on a hollow sound as he neared his destination, even the air around him carried an oppressive sensation that seemed to be warning him away. He felt it on a deep, emotional level, some unnamable thing striving to squash even the faintest glimmer of hope.

As he stood in front of the Morison’s he felt a momentary panic as the house seemed to loom over him. Leering at him with its sightless windows, teasing him with secrets hidden behind drawn shades. He was about to step across the point of no return, once he committed himself to the course of action he’d been considering, he knew there would be no turning back. Today this place would reveal its secrets.

The macadam of the driveway was cracked along its edges, several large chunks having become dislodged, like the ice shelf in Antarctica whose leading edge was continuously breaking off as the glacier pushed outwards. He knew for a fact the driveway had been redone less than a year before. He could remember the smell of the fresh asphalt that had plagued their mornings for an entire week when it was done. Now it looked as if it had been here for decades, fissures and cracks criss-crossed its surface and in many places fresh glass grew from between them.

As he entered the shadow of the house a chill washed down his spine and he almost turned away at that point. Almost, but he pushed on, crossing to the small front porch beneath an awning that shrouded the front door in deep shadows.

He knocked, the sound echoing through the house beyond with an emptiness that touched him in some dark primitive place. They hadn’t been here for a long time. Leaning to his right he cupped his hands around his face as he looked through the window. Beyond the sheer curtains the house lay silent and still.

Turning back he retraced his steps down the stairs and crossed to the double doors of the garage. Inside were the shadowy lumps of two cars sitting side by side, the shadows dense along the back wall. He moved on, along the side of the house to the back yard. As he crossed to the back door he glanced at the privacy fence on the other side of the overgrown yard. From his vantage point he could only see the peak of the roof of his house poking over the top of the fence.

It offered a life line, a connection to the reality of the world he had come from. Reaching the Morison’s back deck he crossed the weathered boards to the sliding glass door whose surface reflected the lows clouds that had emerged as he neared the house. Cupping his hands to block the reflection he peered into the shadowy interior of the house.

Inside he saw a kitchen, counters along one wall, an island in the middle of the floor, and a breakfast nook to the left. As he peered into the shadowy interior of the house he became aware of movement in the high grass behind him. Spinning around he saw the tops of the grass moving in response to whatever was approaching. They were coming at him from three different directions.

He glanced to his right, back the way he had come, spotting movement in the dense weeds. A soft mewling came from the shadowy depths of the grass, like that of a baby, and he spun around to grasp the handle of the sliding glass door. As he did he became aware of a faint rumbling, like the pulse of some massive living thing, thrumming through his hand in time with the beat of his own heart.

He knew this sound, had heard it many times over the years he’d been married to Nadine. It was the sound her treadmill made while she was working out. But that wasn’t possible, there was no way that sound could be heard over here. She was in their basement on the other side of the block.

That mewling sound grew louder, bordering on a screech, and he tugged at the handle only to find the door locked. They were getting closer, he heard them moving through the tall grass behind him, slithering through the dense weeds like snakes on the prowl. In the glass beside him, reflected from the back yard, he saw the weeds directly behind him parting.

To be continued!

If you've been enjoying what you've read why don't you stop by my one of my Author Pages listed below to check out my other work.

Amazon

Barnes N Noble

Itunes

Become a member of my

readers group and get a

free starter library.

That's 2 complete novels and a

collection of short stories.

Absolutely Free!

F is for Funghi Part IV

F is for Funghi

Follow this link to read the story from the beginning: HERE

“What?” he said, looking around with a bewildered expression, “but I was…” and he let the thought die.

“What’s wrong with you?’ Nadine said as she crossed to the bed and sat down on the edge, her hand coming to rest on his thigh. “I gotta tell you, last night was amazing, I have never been as satisfied as I was after last night.”

“What are you talking about?” He said, searching his mind for any clue to what had happened. The last thing he could remember was standing on the balcony trying to figure out what was hiding in the shadows of the shed.

They dance to mother moonlight. The thought whispered through his mind and he shuddered.

“Don’t you remember? My god I’ve never cum so hard in my life, it felt like you were filling me up. I can’t believe you’d forget something that amazing.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just,” he fumbled over his words, trying to hide his confusion.”

“You must be tired after that performance, tell you what how about I fix you breakfast in bed?”

That was a switch, usually it was Nadine bitching at him because he never offered to fix her breakfast in bed. What was going on?

“Grab a shower if you want, It’ll only take me twenty minutes or so, bacon, eggs scrambled hard, oh you were hard last night, coffee and grapefruit. I believe we have everything we need.” With that she was out of the room, leaving Eric alone to try and figure out what had happened.

Throwing back the covers he swung his legs out of bed and crossed to the bathroom without getting dressed. After relieving himself he climbed into the shower and was soaping himself up when he stopped. There was something hard on his inner thigh and he washed away the soap to expose the flesh.

It was a bump, about the size of a quarter, a hard object was pushing against his flesh from beneath. Cyst, tumor, the thought tumbled through his mind and he knew he would have to make an appointment to have it looked at.

After drying off he checked the bump again, realizing that it appeared to have grown to twice its size, a hard point beneath the flesh that rubbed against his other thigh as he walked. He’d definitely have to make an appointment today.

“Breakfast is served,” Nadine called out from the bedroom and Eric left the bathroom, crossing to the bed while still nude, Nadine’s hungry expression watching him every step of the way.

“Maybe tonight we’ll have a repeat,” she said after tucking him in and placing the tray with his breakfast across his legs. Eric looked from the food on the tray to Nadine’s ravenous expression and felt his appetite leaving him. He was nothing more than her play thing and the realization awakened a cold ball in the pit of his stomach. As long as he performed as she expected he was safe, but what would happen the moment he didn’t?

There’s had never been a sexual relationship until this moment and Eric felt ill equipped to carry on in the capacity she seemed to expect him to. Sure they’d had sex in the past, but nothing like what she had obviously experienced the night before, and still he couldn’t recall anything beyond standing on the balcony trying to get a glimpse at what was hiding in the shadows next to the shed.

Maybe,” he offered, unsure if he would be able to live up to her expectations.

“You better eat before your breakfast gets cold,” she said before leaving the room, “I’m going down to work out, if I can after last night.” Like that she was gone, leaving Eric alone with his thoughts.

After finishing his breakfast he got dressed and slipped into the back yard. Nadine was still working out in the basement, the sound of her treadmill running with that unmistakable rumble that whispered through the house with a low roar. At the shed he searched the ground in the area where he’d seen that movement the night before. There was nothing there, at least nothing that offered any clue to what he’d seen.

Crossing to that mysterious hole he cautiously looked down into those shadowy depths. It appeared the hole had gotten bigger since the last time and from within came a strange, rhythmic sound that he found eerily familiar. His gaze was once again drawn to the overgrown nature of the Morison’s back yard on the other side of the privacy fence.

Their house stood on the other side of that ocean of weeds that rippled in response to the touch of a soft breeze. The house itself carried an abandoned air to it, the window shades drawn against the morning light. He knew he would have to go around and talk to them, find out what was going on with their yard. A task he was not looking forward to. But it was something that had to be done.

To be continued!

If you've been enjoying what you've read why don't you stop by my one of my Author Pages listed below to check out my other work.

Amazon

Barnes N Noble

Itunes

Become a member of my

readers group and get a

free starter library.

That's 2 complete novels and a

collection of short stories.

Absolutely Free!

Parasite (Shadows of the Past Book II) Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Mark understood persistence, persistence had gotten him out of jail ahead of his scheduled release date, early release for good behavior. Persistence had helped him land the job he now had washing the breakfast dishes at the Crest view diner every morning before five.

Persistence, that nose to the grindstone stubbornness, had helped him stay out of trouble.

Yeah, he still hung out with the so-called bad element, it was the only thing his wife Jenny hated about the new and improved Mark, but there were some things that would never change.

Friendship was one of them. He had grown up with Rick and Pete. They had been boyhood pals, high school friends, and brothers under fire when all three of them enlisted in the marines shortly after the nine eleven attacks. After two tours in the sandbox they had decided to call it quits and return to civilian life. Unfortunately civilian life was not ready for them. They missed the adrenalin rush combat had provided, and that need had led them down some shadowy paths that ended at the local Pick and Go convenience store when they tried to rob it.

They would have gotten away with it too if they hadn’t of picked a night when several of the local deputies went bowling. So they stormed into the store, guns drawn, to meet the stony gazes of six out of uniform sheriff deputies who had recently finished a night of league bowling. Their first mistakes had been not properly casing the place before they attempted the robbery. Their second mistake was assuming the six civilians in the store would drop to the ground on their command. Instead the six deputies had drawn their own weapons as the lone clerk nearly shit himself while he cowered on the floor behind the counter.

Thankfully cooler heads prevailed and not a shot was fired as the three ex-marines were cuffed and loaded into the back of patrol cars.

But that had been then and this was now and Mark stood gazing down at what he hoped would be his and Jenny’s ticket to a better life. He’d been after his landlord to fix the sump pump in the basement as it kept backing up every time it rained.

He wanted to put in a regular drain and after months of badgering the old bitty that owned the place he managed to convince her to let him do the job in exchange for two months of free rent. Now he was deep in the middle of the project when another obstacle popped up.

Were he to look back on his life he would find it filled with obstacles that had popped up unexpectedly, forcing him to react, making his past look like the erratic path of a pinball bouncing from one bumper to the next.

Cutting through the thin concrete floor had been a piece of cake. The ground beneath was very rocky but he did manage to dig a slit trench halfway across the basement’s length before he hit the immobile object he was now gazing at.

He’d brought out his entire arsenal of tools as he widened and deepened the hole around the object that at first glance looked like the tail fin of a 55’ Chevy Belair. After three hours of tedious, backbreaking work, he’d come to the realization that what he had run into had extraterrestrial origins. And with that realization came the hope that he could bankroll his find into a new lease on life for he and his wife.

He never once gave a thought to ownership. He’d found it so in his mind it was his. It didn’t matter that it was beneath the floor of the basement in a house he did not even own. He’d found it. So it belonged to him and as he sank to his knees next to the fin shaped object he thought of all the money he was going to make off his discovery. Had he known the truth about what was to transpire he would most likely have covered it back up and forgotten about it. Instead he focused on revealing more of the hidden object, digging down into the dirt as the mound beside him grew.

The fin measured a mere two inches thick and appeared to be made of a dull gray metal that seemed to absorb the light instead of reflecting it. So far he had exposed nearly a foot of the fins vertical surface and had reached the point where the buried object had begun to flare away from the base of the fin, vanishing into the rocky soil. He dug away at the ground, with pick and shovel as he worked on his knees, struggling to expose something that would give him some clue to the craft’s origin.

His phone rang and he glanced at the face of it. It was Rick, so he flipped the phone open and placed it next to his ear.

“Yo Rick, what’s up man,” he said. Both Rick and Pete had recently been released after serving most of their sentences, neither of them possessed Mark’s persistence.

“Let’s roll downtown and score some weed man,” Rick said, his voice faint in the receiver pressed next to his ear.

“Can’t man, I’m busy tonight, gotta finish this job in my basement so our rent’s covered.”

“Fuck your rent man, let’s go party.”

“Can’t, besides what I’m working on right now might set us all up for life.”

“Whatcha got going down man?”

“Can’t say yet, it’s too early, I’ll talk to you later man, I’ve gotta get back to work.”

“Whatever man, if you change your mind we’ll be downtown at the usual place. You remember where that is don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know where it is, if I change my mind, you’ll see me.”

Mark hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket. They still had their gangster attitude.

“Hey, your supper’s ready,” Jenny yelled down from the basement door at the top of the stairs.

“I’ll be up in a minute,” he said.

“Well don’t wait too long, you don’t want your supper to get cold, and besides I’m going out tonight. There’s a five thousand dollar jackpot at the VFW, and we need to pay the electric bill.”

“Okay, give me a minute will ya.”

There was always one bill or another that had to be paid. Jenny made good money compared to what he made washing dishes but even with the two incomes combined they still struggled. And it didn’t help that she spent a great deal of money on playing bingo chasing an impossible dream. It was all she ever talked about, winning the big one at bingo, sadly talk was all it ever amounted to.

Leaning to the left he spotted a faint seam in the metal of the fin, down near the base where it flared out. He ran his finger over it and could feel the slight depression with his thumb. Using a putty knife he tried to slip it into the seam with no success.

“Your dinner’s getting cold and I’m getting ready to leave.”

“I’m on my way.”

“You said that a half an hour ago,” Jenny shot back.

“Jesus fucking Christ woman can’t I get anything done around here,” he said as he pushed himself up from his knees and approached the steps. Reaching the top he shoved open the door to find Jenny standing at the counter waiting for him. The kitchen décor was dated when they were kids, now it was considered retro, a look that everyone was spending a great deal of money to duplicate. Hell for what these fools spent on old kitchen appliances he’d let them have the entire kitchen set.

“It’s about time, I was just getting ready to leave, what’s so damned important down there anyway?”

Mark shrugged, “I’m just trying to get that drain done so our rent will be paid for the next two months.”

“But what about the electric bill?”

“I’m working on it, if things pan out like I hope they do we won’t ever have to worry about money again.”

Jenny stopped what she a doing, her hand hovering above her opened pocketbook. “You’re not doing anything illegal are you?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, staring at her, daring her it seemed to prove him wrong.

“I believe you,” she said as she turned back to her pocket book to retrieve her car keys. As she crossed to the back door with Mark following behind her, their cat Pico emerged from hiding and entered the kitchen from the shadowy recesses of the living room.

“Don’t forget to feed Pico tonight, I won’t be late, I promise, and don’t work too hard.”

“I’ve got an early day tomorrow anyway so I’ll probably be asleep by the time you get home,” he said as she slipped out the door and crossed the small back porch to the yard beyond.

Mark watched Jenny back out of the driveway then he turned to the oven where his meal waited. Uncovering the plate he frowned as its contents. Hamburger helper and baked potato again. He’d do anything for a steak, thick and juicy, with the blood running out of its center. Grabbing a beer from the fridge he crossed into the living room with a very vocal Pico trailing him.

“Be patient, I’ll get you fed.”

After placing his plate of a TV tray he sat down in his easy chair and flipped on the television, pulling the tray around in front of him.

Pico jumped onto the arm of the chair and lay down as Mark ate while watching a documentary about ancient aliens on the history channel. Absently he scratched Pico’s neck and the cat purred in contentment.

As Mark watched TV in the living room, moonlight softly illuminated the fin sticking up from the hole in the center of the basement floor. Down near the line where metal and earth met there was a stirring as something pushed through the earth that had clogged a small opening several millennia before. An insect emerged into the moonlight. Several inches long and less than half an inch across it resembled a preying mantis to a small degree. Instead of an upright upper torso and head the end of this insect terminated in a head that resembled the leading edge of a knife with a very narrow blade edge flaring back into the body. Several more emerged from behind the first and they spread their wings before taking flight into the shadowy recesses of the basement. More insects spilled from the opening, joining their brethren in a swirling ball of flashing wings near the shadowy ceiling.

Mark had finished dinner and was sleepily watching the television when Pico stood up and gazed towards the kitchen with a growl low in his throat.

“What’s wrong buddy, you hear something?” Mark said as he pushed himself up and retrieved his empty beer can.

Time for a refill.

He crossed to the kitchen with Pico hot on his tail. He still hadn’t fed him yet even though he’d promised Jenny he would, and once in the kitchen he retrieved a can of cat food from the cupboard. He spooned half the contents of the can into a small bowl that he placed on the floor next to the refrigerator. He looked into the can at the compressed contents realizing with a sudden clarity that unless something changed soon on the money front, they would be reduced to sharing Pico’s dinner. The thought tuned his stomach and he quickly covered the can with a piece of foil and placed it in the fridge as he retrieved another beer.

Pico was at the basement door, trying to open it with his paw.

“Do you hear something down there? A big old juicy rat maybe?”

Mark opened the door and Pico darted through into the basement. Closing the door he returned to the living room as the sound of an object falling over came form the basement.

“Go get em, boy,” Mark said as he settled into his seat and popped the top of the beer can. He took a long drink as a commotion erupted from the basement. Objects fell to the floor as the sound of Pico screeching came from below him.

“Dammit it all to hell,” Mark jumped to his feet as a low mournful wail issued from the basement. Crossing into the kitchen he reached the basement door and flung it open. Flipping on the light he looked down at the tools scattered across the floor.

“What in the hell is going on down here?” he yelled as he came down the steps. Reaching the bottom step he stopped as the buzzing cloud of insects swirling around the single bare bulb that hung from the exposed rafters came into view. One of the insects cut out of the pack and dive-bombed him, he sidestepped it, moving into the path of a second insect that slammed into his arm and he looked down as an intense jolt of pain flared from the point of impact. The insect was holding onto his flesh as it sawed its head back and forth, cutting through his skin, and pushing itself under the soft tissue.

In no time the insect vanished beneath the flesh of his arm, becoming a faint bump that moved with growing agony past his elbow and upper arm. He felt it under his flesh, crawling beneath the soft tissue as it went into the recess of his underarm and vanished into the cavity of his chest.

He dropped to his knees as he felt the insect moving through his chest cavity, pushing aside his lung, and igniting intense pain that flared out from his chest with every breath he took. The other insects dropped to the floor where they lay twitching as the pain flowed across his body and he sensed the presence of another within his own mind. An ancient force that stoked primitive fears that lay deep in the hidden recesses of man’s half forgotten past.

He felt it climbing his esophagus, a single point of pain that emerged from beneath his breastbone, closing his windpipe and causing him to gag as he struggled to catch his breath. He fell face first onto the mound of dirt, clawing and scratching at the ground as his heartbeat thundered in his ear and his vision dimmed from the lack of oxygen. Just when he was certain he was about to step across into the unknown void of death the object was past his throat and he gulped in a lungful of air as he rolled over onto his back and looked up at the light bulb glowing above him.

He lay there, unable to move, his arms and legs locked into position as his body betrayed him. The insect had moved into his cranial cavity, pushing its way past his nasal cavity, attaching itself to the Hypothalamus that lay at the very core of the brain.

Like a telephone operator of old the Hypothalamus lay at the heart of a neural network of nerves that were responsible for controlling everything from what a person saw to how they responded to external stimuli. A bundle of glands that was viewed by many as the seat of Man’s soul. Sight, sound, and touch were all processed here. It also played a role in controlling the motor systems of the brain, which were responsible for bodily movement and coordination. A part of the endocrine system the effects of its varied responses were immediate. Once in place the insect injected an alien concoction of DNA into Mark’s bloodstream as it incited the production of adrenalin.

Mark was sweating profusely as adrenalin slammed into his body. Providing a rush far greater than any he’d ever experienced before and as the alien DNA flooded his system he became aware of a faint whispering that lay just beyond the edge of his consciousness. He felt like a powerful secret was about to be revealed. The truth would become known and his consciousness would expand to encompass all the universe. The light above him became a distant star that existed somewhere on the other side of the universe, an icy void man would never lay eyes upon, a place that existed only in memory.

Mark became aware of another consciousness within his own, a presence that sought his acceptance but stood ready to take what it desired.

“Become one with us,” a sweetly sinister voice whispered in his mind and he rebelled against its intrusion as the distant star drew closer, the color changing from a harsh white light to a soft blue hue. An ancient memory blossomed in his mind, one shared by billions of others that lay not only in the present, but occupied the past, as well as a future that had yet to transpire.

They had mastered time and space, the universe lay at their feet, theirs for the taking, yet they had as yet to master their own emotions, their own beliefs crouched in the dodgy persistence that was faith. Above them a blue sun burned towards oblivion as they once again gathered in the valley of tears beneath the spires of Baezil. Coming together to join as one mind, one emotion, one desire to step beyond the yoke of limitations they had placed upon themselves.

He was coming. The thought whispered among them as an electric bolt of emotion shot through the crowd.

As those alien memories unfolded in his mind Mark struggled to hang onto his own memories that were being threatened by the crashing wave of this creatures past. He saw himself as a child, following his father around the yard as he worked to keep their little plot of land neat and tidy. The image was replaced with that of the sun reflected from the silver lid of a coffin beneath a spray of flowers whose petal moved in time with the steady breeze as the preacher’s words whispered through his mind.

“He maketh me to lie down in green pastures,” the Preacher’s words droned against the incessant cry of the cicadas coming from a nearby forest. He had never been a religious person, throwing off the yoke of belief when he was younger and could choose his own path. But now, faced with the alternative, he clung to the Preacher’s words, a tenuous lifeline to what he had once been in the churning turmoil of what this thing wished him to become.

“His will protect me from my enemies.” That sinister voice whispered in sharp counterpoint to the Preacher’s remembered words. Mark clung to the memory as it slowly faded, a desperate last grab at maintaining who he was as that other presence washed over him like the relentless surf of the ocean.

“He leadeth me beside still waters.” The Preacher’s words faded slowly into the incessant cry of the cicadas that Mark suddenly realized was not what he had at first thought it to be. It was not cicadas at all, but the worshipful cries of millions of voices rising up from an antediluvian void to overwhelm all that was he as the final transition took place and he became one with that which had invaded him. His consciousness was shuffled off to the side, imprisoned in his own mind as the new Mark slowly regained his feet and retrieved an axe from the floor beside the hole in the basement floor. He smashed the light bulb, plunging the basement into an ebony void into which a single shaft of moonlight flowed through the only window, softly illuminating the fin standing in the center of the excavation.

With his back against the far wall he settled onto his haunches with the axe held between his upraised knees. Pico emerged from beneath the toolbox and crossed the basement to sit next to Mark who reached out and placed his hand upon his head. Neither of them moved until the sound of a car pulling into the driveway outside alerted them to Jenny’s return from Bingo.

Chapter 3 Chapter 5

Order your copy today from any of these fine retailers, only $3.99

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

Parasite (Shadows of the Past Book II) Chapter 3

Chapter 3

His mother was busy in the kitchen when Dave slipped into the house, passing quietly through the living room as he made his way to the stairs, heading for the sanctuary of his room on the second floor. On the mantle photos in gilded frames offered a brief glimpse into a sunny past that had become lost in a cloud of never ending despair. There had been a time when he would have gone to the kitchen to speak to his mother about how his day had gone, sharing a glass of milk as they chatted. But those days had passed.

“Is that you Dave?” She called from the kitchen as he quietly raced up the stairs and stepped into his room. He softly closed the door behind him as her footsteps came from the stairs.

There was a soft, hesitant, knock at his door. As if she was afraid to disturb him. He ignored her request to open the door as he sat down on the side of his bed. It was easy; what would be harder would be ignoring his father’s demands to come in.

You’re living under my roof, so you live by my rules, he was always fond of saying. True to his nature, it wasn’t long before he knocked at Dave’s door. There was no sense denying his entry; he’d just take the door off its hinges. He’d done it before.

Dave opened the door and crossed back to his bed, where he sat down next to the headphones for the I-pod he’d stolen from a kid at school. His dad never seemed to have enough money for anything other than what he himself wanted, forcing Dave to resort to theft to get what he wanted. The faint sound of music came from the ear buds, but he knew better than to slip them on when his father was present.

There were a lot of things you didn’t do when his father was present, not if you valued your life. He doubted his father would kill him, as he had threatened so many times in the past, but there was no sense taking any chances.

He watched as his father swung his desk chair around and straddled the seat, resting his arms across the back of the chair.

There had been a time when he was younger that he looked forward to these talks with his dad, who would come in after a hard day’s work to share his day with him. Man talk they called it, a brief chance for them to connect as father and son. But that had been before the layoffs, before the endless days of shuffling from one pointless job interview to another, only to hear the same response over and over again.

“Sorry, but we’ve decided to go with another candidate.”

His father had reached the age that employers considered not worth the effort to retrain. He was too young to collect Social Security, but too old for most employers, leaving him stuck between a rock and a hard place. Dave’s mother worked at a small Laundromat in town; having spent her life as a housewife it was the only job she was qualified for. And the fact she could find a job when Dave’s dad couldn’t added to the misery that now wrapped the house in its cold embrace.

“Okay, what gives?” his father said. “What happened now? What kind of trouble are you in?”

“Nothing,” was Dave’s automatic response as he shook his head. He wasn’t sure himself what kind of trouble he was in. But somehow or another he would share the blame for what happened to Randy. He recalled the way he had fallen off the cliff after Anthony had stomped on his hands. How he had spun through the air, the sound of his impact on the stones below accompanied by that sickening crunch that was easily heard from the top of the cliff.

Anthony had turned on him and Dave had backed off, his hands held up to protect himself. Then Anthony had just walked off. Dave had eased out onto the edge of the cliff, looking down at Randy’s lifeless body, filled with a sudden lightening of the spirit. He had never really liked the way Randy treated the weaker kids at school, aware in the back of his mind that one day the tables would be turned. But he really had had no choice, unless he wanted to become one of Randy’s targets. That in itself was motivation enough to continue to go along with whatever crazy idea Randy came up with.

But that was then and this was now. He was no longer under Randy’s control and a part of him was relieved.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. That Randy kid you hang out with is nothing but trouble. Did he get you arrested again?”

“No.”

Everything momentarily went dark as the sound of a slap echoed in the room and the side of his face went numb. It had happened so fast he didn’t even have time to react.

“You better learn some respect, boy,” his father said as he raised his opened hand for another blow.

“No sir,” Dave said before the blow could fall.

“That’s better. Now get yourself ready to eat, your mother’s been working all day to make us something special.”

His father’s something special usually meant cow brains, and Dave’s stomach performed several lazy somersaults at the thought. To Dave there was something wrong with eating the brain of another animal. But his dad had been raised differently; as a child his father’s parents had never wasted anything, so he had developed a taste for parts of the cow many would consider unfit for consumption.

It was obvious he had recently butchered several cows, since that was the only time they had brains, when he could get them fresh. With a sigh, Dave pushed himself up from the bed and went downstairs.

***

That night, after another silent dinner with his parents, Dave sat at his window watching the night as the full moon slowly advanced across a black sky. His stomach rumbled with hunger as the sound of movement came from the forest. Something, or someone, was approaching the house.

His father’s dogs began baying in low mournful wails that chilled him to the bone. It was as if they were afraid of whatever was coming through the forest, their voices raised in a chorus of fear that echoed through the night.

His father was obviously already asleep or he would have been yelling at the dogs to settle down. Their baying became low whimpers as the approaching creature? person? got closer.

Dave looked down at the yard behind the house. To the right was the barn, and beyond that the field where his father kept several head of cattle. To the left was the field his father had tried farming with little success. The tractor his father used to plow the fields sat halfway in the doorway of the barn, the front end raised up on a lift, the front axle lying in the dirt next to it.

Several days earlier, Dave had hit a tree stump while crossing the rear field, snapping the axle in half. The sight of the tractor reawakened the pain across the backs of his legs from the beating his father had given him for not begin more careful.

“Some day you’ll thank me for this,” his father had said, but Dave was doubtful that day would ever come.

A rustle of movement at the edge of the yard drew his attention and he looked down to see Randy stepping out of the tree line. It couldn’t be, it wasn’t possible, not after the fall he’d seen him take, but there he was, waving up at him.

With a sigh, his spirits sinking, he climbed over the windowsill and carefully walked across the roof of the back porch. Reaching the edge, he leaned over and dropped to the ground with practiced ease. It wasn’t the first time he’d snuck out at night, nor would it be the last, as much as he wanted that to be. He was afraid to leave his mom alone in the house with his dad.

Randy crossed the yard towards him and Dave noticed the funny way he was walking, as if he had a hitch in his step.

“I thought you were dead, man,” Dave said as he approached his friend.

Randy’s eyes were black in the night, watching him with a preternatural stillness that awakened a primitive fear in Dave’s soul. Then he noticed the odd animal at Randy’s side, a ferret-like creature whose back was covered by a tortoise shell. He saw the useless leg dangling from the animal’s belly and realized that he’d made a serious mistake coming out here.

Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Order your copy today from any of these fine retailers, only $3.99

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

Parasite (Shadows of the Past Book II): Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Randy slowly became aware of his surroundings, his consciousness rising up from a nighted abyss inhabited by all manner of shadowy things that slithered under, around, and over one another. Opening his eyes he saw by the shadows growing long on the sheer face of the wall above that evening was fast approaching. He didn’t want to be out here after dark. He’d heard stories, whispered tales of eerie voices, and odd animals that roamed the dense woods around the burned out husk of a summer cabin. Of how something that was supposed to have died in the fire, really didn’t.

He tried to move but it was no use, everything below his waist was numb and unresponsive, and though his arms appeared to have survived the fall intact, there was not enough strength in them to pull him the distance he knew he had to cover to escape the ridge.

It felt like something was leaking from his eyes, nose, and mouth and he ran his hand across his face, his palm and fingers covered in blood when he pulled it away.

He struggled to lift his head and look down at what he though for sure would be a mangled pair of legs. He was surprised to find both of his lower limbs just where they were supposed to be. One of his shoes was missing; his big toe sticking through out the hole in his sock. He focused on his right foot, trying to wiggle his toes, but it was no use, they pointed unmoving at the darkening sky above.

His mother had warned him that it might one day come to this. That instead of dishing it out like he’d become accustomed to doing, he would be on the receiving end. While she might have been right in this instance, what did she really know? All she ever did was sit around the house on her fat ass and watch television. She couldn’t even get up to go to the bathroom half the time and usually wound up pissing in the adult diaper she wore.

If she’d lose some of that damn flab maybe his old man would leave his sister alone. But hell his sister deserved everything that happened to her, running around the house half naked like she did. Sometimes all she wore was an oversized tee shirt, acting like she was still a little kid. On several occasions even he’d been tempted, but he always stopped himself, ever mindful that she was his sister. Now she had a baby and Randy wasn’t entirely sure if it wasn’t his half brother.

From his left came a soft skittering sound, tiny claws moving swiftly across naked stone, approaching him with a stealthy ease. He turned his head in that direction as the sound shifted until it was behind him, and he strained his neck to catch a glimpse of what might be stalking him. He caught a brief flash of something white and furry as it slid behind a flat stone. A pointed snout emerged from the other side of the stone, followed by a reptilian eye that watched him with a detached predatory interest.

“Get away from me,” he screamed. But the animal remained in place, unfazed by his shout. Slowly it moved towards him, revealing more of its grotesque body. Here and there among the matted fur were spots of black, scaly, flesh. Rocking back and forth across its back as it approached was what looked like a tortoise shell, and from its belly an extra leg hung uselessly, bouncing from the stony ground as it moved towards him.

It had to be a dream, a nightmare unleashed from the dark side of his psyche, a hallucination brought on the shock of his fall.

Randy screamed as the animal closed on his head and he put his hands up to ward off the creature’s approach. His fingers brushed against coarse fur, confirming the creature’s existence, extinguishing Randy’s hope that it was nothing but a bad dream. Upon contact with the animal he became aware of a vast presence that towered over them, unseen, an ancient thing that had lain dormant for millennia.

The animal hopped up onto his chest and he shuddered at the feel of its claws moving across the fabric of his shirt. Then it was directly above his face, looking down into his eyes, that reptilian orb glowing with an internal light. One eye was larger than the other, each one different, giving the animal a crazed appearance.

“Please,” he whimpered.

The animal’s body convulsed, its mouth hanging open, hacking as if it were trying to dislodge a fur ball. A single strand of drool hung from the animal’s chin as Randy swatted ineffectually at the animal with his hands. The sensation of that coarse fur against his flesh sent chills racing up and down his spine. The drool came into contact with his open mouth, and he stopped squirming.

His mind had been invaded by another presence that watched from the growing shadows at the base of the cliff. An ancient thing that reached out across the gulf of time to caress his thoughts. He felt the progress of the drool on his face, searching fingers of moisture that slipped into his mouth.

The animal hacked again, arching its back, digging its claws into his flesh as it struggled to expel the object in its throat. Something small and gray fell from the animal’s mouth, onto his chest, slick with saliva.

He couldn’t see it even though he struggled to look down at himself but it remained hidden behind his chin. He felt the object crawling around, heard the faint beating of wings.

Then he felt it crawling across the flesh of his throat, the sensation sending chills rippling across his flesh as it clambered over his chin, and stopped to regard him. All he saw was a flat, triangular head atop a slender body. There didn’t appear to be any eyes and he watched helplessly as it moved over his lips, those tiny feet grasping at his flesh, before it hunkered down and vanished into his nose.

He felt it inside, clawing its way into that tight space, tearing into tender flesh as it passed through his nasal cavity. Reaching its target Randy experienced a sharp pain as the invader sliced through the flesh of his sinus cavity and squirmed through the opening into his cranial cavity. Here all sensation of movement stopped.

Suddenly he was sweating profusely as the invader began dumping alien DNA into his system. Chills washed across his body as goose bumps danced over his flesh. He was dimly aware of the animal, sitting to his right, watching patiently.

It felt like his head was going to explode as the unused potions of his brain were awakened from their forced slumber and every memory he had, every recollection from his past, paraded through his thoughts.

He saw himself as a child, screaming as his father whipped him with his belt, laying welts across the backs of his legs. His mother sitting in her chair, indifferent to his pain, her attention focused on the glowing screen of the television in the corner of the room. There was no love in this home, no nurturing to speak of, only a bitter silence as two people forced together refused to part.

He screamed as pain washed through his body, flowing from the center of his back where his spine had been broken by his fall. His cry echoing off the sheer wall of the cliff, fading into the approaching night as deep shadows gathered around him and a whispering voice came to him, carried on the current of his own blood flowing through his veins.

“Become one with us.” That sinister voice hissed in his mind as images of alien places and beings flooded his thoughts, a collective memory unleashed by this unlikely savior.

They were snapshots of a desolate place beneath a blue sun that cast little warmth. A place of misery, of a collective pain and suffering shared by the multitude whose whispering voices filled his thoughts with the steady hiss of white noise that settled into the background. Yet amid all the suffering there lay a glimmer of hope, of becoming, and ascending above the seething masses into the light of a new reality that beckoned with the promise of unfulfilled divination. It was what all aspired to but only a few could attain. The golden ring that promised a life of leisure upon the backs of the downtrodden for that was their way.

“Become one with us.” That sweetly sinister voice beckoned to him and he embraced all that it offered. A child of misery coming into his own.

“Yes,” he said in answer, accepting that which was offered with an open heart and open arms, fully aware that to do so would hasten the demise of his own individuality. But what did he have to live for? Another two years of abuse at his father’s hand? His mother’s loving indifference to his suffering?

He struggled to sit up, bracing himself against the pain as his legs writhed with a mind of their own. He felt like he had been reborn, emerging from the other side of his dilemma, into the dawning age of a new reality.

Once he had gotten to his feet the animal that had approached him walked away. It stopped to look back at him.

“I’m supposed to follow you?” He asked, only dimly aware of the growing night around him, fully immersed in the memories of this presence that had invaded his body. He’d heard the whispered warnings about coming to this place. The frightened tales of an eternal solitude that wrapped this blasted place in its embrace, stories filled with fear.

They had been wrong. There was nothing to fear, nothing at all to be afraid of.

He followed the animal to its den in the rocks, a narrow crevice that would not do for him, yet he was compelled to squeeze into that tight space. Something lay within that small fracture, calling to him with a sinister voice.

Reaching into the narrow crack his fingers brushed against ancient steel. Upon contact he felt their presence even stronger than before. Watching him with impassive eyes from the shadows that pressed in close on all sides.

Pulling that ancient blade to his chest he sat in the shadows as the night progressed around him and a full moon rode high across the purple sky, gazing down upon the surface with one glowing, impassive, eye.

He’d show them, every last one of them, he’d show them all. Especially his father who’d told him when he was little that he’d never amount to more than a steaming pile of shit. Mrs. Wilkinson, his English teacher, she’d given him an F on his final exam, denying him his right to move onto the tenth grade with the rest of his class. They expected him to repeat the ninth grade, well he’d show them when the time came, he’d show them all as they cowered at his feet begging for their miserable little lives.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Order your copy today from any of these fine retailers, only $3.99

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

Parasite: Chapter One

Chapter 1

As he walked along the gravel roadbed of the abandoned railroad tracks he was silently congratulating himself on successfully avoiding any confrontation with Randy when from the shaded forest on his left came a voice that sent ice water through his veins.

“Anthony,” Randy called to him and Anthony’s heart climbed into his throat. They had never followed him before.

He stopped, and turned to face his tormentors. Randy, with Dave at his side, stood atop a small rise just inside the tree line.

“I don’t want to fight you,” Anthony said.

“You don’t seem to have a choice,” Randy said as he slammed his fist into his open palm and walked towards him. Anthony glanced to his right. The railroad tracks vanished into the heat waves in the distance. He so wished he could vanish like they did. Maybe then everyone would feel bad for the misery they had brought to his short life. But he doubted that. Most likely they would just forget him.

The thought stirred something deep within his psyche and he discovered a rage that flashed white-hot as it swelled within him. He let his backpack fall to the ground and quickly closed the distance between them.

Randy was taken back by this sudden turn of events and put up his hands as Anthony closed on him. “So the pussy wants to fight,” he said.

Neither of them were trained fighters, and though Randy outweighed him by a full fifty pounds, Anthony’s rage gave him exactly the edge he needed. He wasn’t out to torment as Randy was. He was defending himself, and as he closed with Randy he unleashed a barrage of hits that would have made any prizefighter proud.

Randy crumpled under the attack, his nose bloodied, his lip split, and he cried out as he backed away from Anthony’s assault.

Without hesitation Randy turned and ran across the railroad tracks, plunging into the dense brush that bordered the forest. Anthony looked at Dave, who held up his hands as he backed away.

“I don’t want any part of this,” Dave said.

He could have let it go right there and been done with it, but the years of torment fed his rage and Anthony turned to pursue Randy.

***

Randy jumped over the narrow ditch running parallel to the tracks, and plunged headlong into the thick underbrush, crashing through the forest as Anthony chased him down the hillside.

He ran through the trees, his feet kicking up the carpet of dead leaves that blanketed the floor as the ground became steeper beneath his feet. With a shout of surprise, his feet slipped out from under him and he slid through the trees on the carpet of leaves.

Tree trunks whizzed by him, narrowly missing his head, as he tried everything he could to grab one of the passing trunks. He snagged a sapling and was brought to a halt. Below him lay an opening in the trees that revealed the tops of trees much lower. Above him Anthony moved down through the forest towards him.

“I’m sorry,” Randy said as Anthony silently maneuvered through the trees towards him, his face a grim mask of determination

Randy let go of the tree and slid another twenty yards down the hill. The tree line below him was closer and he saw an outcropping of stone. He had no idea where he was, as he’d never come this way before, so he was unaware of the seventy-foot drop that waited just beyond the edge of the outcropping. He glanced behind him and saw that Anthony was less than twenty yards away, picking his way down the hill.

Randy released his grip and slid towards the edge of the outcropping. At the last moment, as his feet shot out over the edge, he grabbed a small tree and brought himself to a stop. His feet stuck out over the edge as he struggled to pull himself away from the cliff.

“Help me,” Randy pleaded, glancing over his shoulder at the sheer drop that awaited him.

Anthony’s face revealed little emotion as he slid the last few feet, and used the tree Randy was holding onto as a footrest. He ground his foot into Randy’s hand.

Randy cried out in pain. His hand slipped and he dropped another foot towards the waiting emptiness below. He kicked out with his feet, searching for any kind of footing, his legs pedaling in thin air.

“Don’t,” he begged, “I’ll do anything you want, anything, but please don’t hurt me.”

Anthony stomped on Randy’s hand.

“No,” Randy screamed, terrified. He found another handhold and Anthony shifted his attack to his other hand. He clung for life as Anthony savagely stomped on his fingers, the tread of his sneakers tearing at Randy’s knuckles.

Then Randy was falling. His foot hit the sheer wall and he spun crazily, the approaching ground and the sky trading places in a swirl of images.

He slammed into the ground, the wind rushing out of him as the sickening sound of bones crunching in his back came from under him. He struggled to catch his breath as the shock of his fall enveloped him in a numbing embrace. His consciousness dimmed and as the emptiness reached up to envelope him he heard whispering voices coming to him as if from a great distance away.

Chapter 2

Order your copy today from any of these fine retailers, only $3.99

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords