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Showing posts with label horror fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label horror fiction. Show all posts
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E is for Everett Park The End
 |
| © Can Stock Photo / Anna_Om |
E is for Everett Park
The End
Read from the beginning HERE!
Authors Note: A famous writer once said writing a story is like uncovering a fossil. As we work we brush away the layers that block our view of the finished product, and only in the end, when we have uncovered the fossil completely, can we tell what it is. He went on to explain that many times the beginning of a story is not fully realized until the end of the story has been uncovered. Such is the case with E is for Everett Park, a title that only served as a place holder until I uncovered the real title, and the real thrust of the story.
As we reach the end of the tale, and the final details of the hidden fossil are exposed, we now see what the story’s true destination is. This will guide me, during the subsequent rewrite, to open the story as it should be.
“Can I touch it?” I asked, both fascinated and repulsed at the same time. I’d never held a gun before, or even shot one, these things were just not allowed in my house.
Jimmy nodded his assent and I reached out, my fingertips coming into contact with the oiled steel of that black barrel. As my flesh came into contact with it I was overcome by a feeling of uninhibited power. This thing, this object, this inert piece of metal contained a power I’d never known before.
“What kind is it?” I asked.
“My Dad said it’s a thirty eight special.”
“Have you shot it?”
“Once or twice.”
‘Where did you get it?”
“My dad keeps it in the glove box of his car, I swiped it this morning on my way over, I’m gonna scare Arnold with it.”
“Can I hold it?” I asked breathlessly as that sensation coursed through my body.
Again Jimmy nodded his assent and I wrapped my hand around the handle, the thatch work design of the grip coarse against the palm of my hand.
“He’s gonna show em,” Tina said but I didn’t hear her as I lifted the pistol from Jimmy’s hand, my finger naturally wrapping itself around the trigger.
“Don’t put your finger on the trigger, not yet, not until you’re ready to shoot,” Jimmy said and I shuddered at the thought that with a simple pull of the trigger, I could solve all of our problems on the playground.
The gun was heavier than I had anticipated, the weight dragging my hand towards the ground as I raised it to look closer at its black surface. The metal seemed to absorb the growing sunlight of the day, yet there was a faint reflection in the oiled side of the barrel, along with a smudged fingerprint. As I looked the pistol over my eyes kept getting drawn to that fingerprint, it was a shame to mar such a powerfully beautiful surface.
At the same time I felt the power of the gun, I sensed a dark force that hovered about it, a malignant air that came not from the object in my hand, but from somewhere deep within me. The presence of the gun touched something deep inside me, something I’d never faced before, a primitive thing that sought the power this object conveyed.
Voices from the other side of the playground drew out attention and I hurriedly passed the gun back to Jimmy and he tucked it into the waistband of his pants. Of course Tina knew about the gun, so there was no sense even hiding it as the first words out of her mouth when she saw Arnold and company, were of a specifically threatening nature.
“You better run home to Mommy, Arnold, Jimmy’s gonna fix you today.”
The power of the gun had even affected Tina whose comments were so out of place compared to the way she normally acted. The open threat only served to draw our three tormentors to us, and they crossed the playground with a small crowd around them.
“What’s the baby gonna do?” Arnold said as he stepped up to Jimmy who kept his eyes focused on the ground at his feet.
“Come on, do something, butt munch.” Arnold’s comment drew several laughs from the crowd around us.
“Show him, Jimmy, show him who’s the boss of the playground now,” Tina said, her comments like gasoline on a fire.
“Yeah, show me dick breath,” Arnold said, pushing Jimmy back with one hand, his other balled up into a fist ready to strike.
There was a moment, a brief second where I was sure Jimmy was about to turn and flee for good, it seemed like he was struggling with himself, and I was certain reason would reassert itself and everything would go back to normal, or as normal as one could expect at Everett Park.
“Show him Jimmy,” Tina said and Arnold lashed out at her with one hand, knocking baby Sally to the ground.
“Would you shut your cunt up.”
I honestly believe that had Tina kept her mouth shut Jimmy would have fled from the playground that day. As it was she didn’t and Jimmy responded, not to protect himself, but to protect her.
When Arnold spun back around to confront Jimmy, he’d pulled the gun from his waistband and was aiming it at Arnold’s head.
“You leave her alone,” Jimmy said, his voice low, full of menace as he stood in what I later learned was the classic two handed shooter’s stance. He’d obviously shot the pistol before, and knew what to expect.
Instead of turning to flee as we had expected Arnold raised his hands, palms out at shoulder level, as he sneered at Jimmy. “What are you gonna do with that?” Arnold said, taking a step closer, forcing Jimmy to take a step back.
I’d seen something in Arnold’s eye the moment he recognized the pistol, something that I didn’t understand until I was much older. There was no fear in his eyes, no anger either, just a mute acceptance of what he was confronting. There was a lot I learned later in life about what makes us who we are. But for the moment we had a standoff. I didn’t believe for one moment that Arnold was going to run, nor did I think Jimmy would pull the trigger.
I think Arnold knew this as well, just like a predator will know the difference between prey and other predators. He took another step closer to Jimmy, forcing him back to the edge of the pavement, and Jimmy was forced to look away, giving Arnold the opening he was looking for.
He snatched the pistol from Jimmy’s hand, pushing the younger boy down at the same time as he overwhelmed him with his bulk. Jimmy lay on the ground his hands up in a defensive manner as Arnold stood over him with the pistol.
“Let me show you how it’s done,” Arnold said as he pulled back the hammer with a loud click. Several of the others shouted for him not to do it, to let it go, but it appeared Arnold wasn’t hearing any of that. He looked like he was about ready to pull the trigger.
That was when I got involved. I couldn’t have lived with myself if I let him shoot Jimmy, yet even after my actions that day I’m still full of guilt. Had I not done what I did things would have maybe turned out different for everyone concerned. Before anyone could react I grabbed a ball bat from one of the spectators and pushed my way through the crowd.
Everyone’s attention was on Jimmy. Arnold’s back was to me so he didn’t see me raise the bat over my shoulder, or take the hardest swing of my life. But he felt it, maybe for a moment, or two, after the bat connected with the back of his head. For the second time in the time I’d known him, Arnold dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. He never go up again, thankfully he lived, but he never walked again. Spending his days confined to a wheel chair as he spoke in a child’s voice to things no one else could see.
I spent some time in juvenile detention and the crowd that once hung out at Everett Park grew up and went it’s different ways. Tina got married and raised a family of her own, the others scattered to the four winds, and I was left with my guilt. Since I was a juvenile when I was charged my records were sealed on my eighteenth birthday and I worked to rebuild my life.
Turning back to the front page I look again at the familiar face staring out at me from beneath the headline. He’s gotten older, as all of us have, yet I can still see the frightened child in his eyes. The same child who on a chilly morning showed me his father’s gun. Jimmy grew older as all of us did, but he never really grew up. Three days ago he walked into the place where he worked with a loaded gun.
I don’t need to explain the rest, but I will leave you with this.
Evil lives among us, we see it everyday as we go about the task of living, yet we don’t fully understand what we’re looking at. Evil is not some intangible force that comes and goes like the tides of the ocean, it lives in the heart of every man, woman, and child that draws a breath. Most of us can control those darker impulses that speak to us late at night as we struggle to fall asleep while reliving our day Pointing out our weaknesses, and sometimes cajoling us to seek revenge for slights real or imagined. There are those who listen to that inner voice, and it is they we need to watch out for.
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.
Free Read Friday: E is for Everett Park
| |||
| © Can Stock Photo / Anna_Om |
E is for Everett Park
Part 5
Read from the beginning HERE!
Authors Note:
With the recent events in Florida I was hesitant about releasing this part of our current tale. My heart goes out to those affected, and I feel your sorrow, your fear, and your rage.
When I start these stories I have no clue what direction they are headed. Each story begins life with an image in my mind, and this one was born from the image of an abandoned merry-go-round. With each successive week I've built upon the story, focusing on character as the story unfolds. This week I realized where the story was headed, and understood what the end would be, what the end had to be. I was bullied as a child so I understand what my characters are going through, and what has led them to the decision they have made. This is not revenge fantasy as I've come to terms with what happened to me and have spoken with my tormentor on several occasions.
In the end I decided that with all things considered my influence in these matters is minimal at best so why should I allow events beyond my control to determine what I write. The couple of you who have been following along might be disappointed if I let the story end here. And I don't want to disappoint anyone.
“Why can’t they just leave us alone?” Tina said as she clutched Sally to her chest. Her father had been able to fix her baby doll, but the head was still loose on her neck, and had a tendency to spin around into an unnatural position any time Tina moved. More often than not Sally would be watching what was behind her with those unblinking blue eyes, her head having spun all the way around. The sight of it was unsettling, it was as if the baby doll knew what was coming, and was keeping an eye out for us.
“They won’t, not unless we do something,” Jimmy answered.
“But what can we do?” Tina said.
At this Jimmy shrugged. What could we do? But he had an odd expression on his face, and there was something in his eyes that disturbed me. I watched him as he watched our tormentors walk away. At the time I thought I didn’t know what that might be, but looking back, even then I knew Jimmy was going to do something.
It was the three of us against the cruelty of our tormentors. In the beginning we had been five, but once Arnold targeted us the other two members of our little group, Ray and Terrance, decided to stay away from the playground. Had I known what was to happen I would have done the same. Or would I?
I doubt it. I think even then I suspected how things were going to play out. It was curiosity that kept me coming back to the playground. The day before it happened was a Saturday. School had recently started again, our summer break coming to an end, soon winter would descend, and the playground would be deserted as our interests turned to indoor activities.
The days were still warm, but the nights were growing colder, the memory of their passage trapped in the frosted grass of our lawns that took on a white mantle until the sun’s warming rays released each blade from its prison. Surrounded by forest the sun’s warming rays never touched the playground until it was high overhead, so mornings were only for the hardiest of our little group.
I was surprised to find Jimmy and Tina in their usual spots that morning, it was early and the air still carried a chill from the night before. The stood face to face, heads down, as they looked at something in Jimmy’s hand. I couldn’t at first see what it was but I suspected he’d brought something to equalize the balance of power on the playground.
Jimmy had always been the quiet one, hovering at the fringes of our little group, a part of the group, yet at the same time a stranger to us all. We knew he lived two streets over, but none of us had actually seen his house. I knew he went to the same school we did as we shared english class. But he always sat towards the back of the room, not all the way, he wasn’t one of those types who came to class simply to put in an appearance. He participated when called upon, but rarely volunteered.
When they saw me coming Jimmy hurriedly put away whatever it was he had been showing Tina. Together they turned to face me as I approached. Jimmy’s his face was as sullen as always. Tina’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
“He’s gonna show them who’s the boss today,” Tina said with a hint of excitement, Baby Sally’s head slowly spinning around as Tina swung her shoulder back and forth in a rocking motion. “He’s gonna teach them not to mess with us.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
“Show him,” Tina said as she nodded in my direction.
“I don’t wanna,” Jimmy replied, seeming to shrink into himself as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“Go on, it’ll be all right,”
“Show me,” I said.
“Don’t tell my dad,” Jimmy said, looking up at me from beneath his brow, his head bowed as he pulled up the hem of his jacket, and withdrew a small black revolver. It seemed too big in Jimmy’s hand and I took a step back as Tina danced excitedly around Jimmy.
“We’re gonna show them, yep, we’re gonna show them, you better believe we’re gonna show them,” Tina chanted as baby Sally’s head swiveled back and forth as if to counter her statement.
The sun was just starting to peek over the edge of the forest, the top half of Gigantica alight with its warming glow, but inside I felt a cold ball of fear form in the pit of my stomach. It had gone too far, too fast. Yet at the same time there was an electric anticipation coursing through my veins.
It was the first time I’d ever seen a real gun.
To be continued!
Book
3, Legion Of The Damned, will go on sale for 99 cents for the first
time since publication beginning Friday February16 at 8am PST and
will last until Sunday February 18 when the price will step up to $1.99
at 1pm PST. The next increase will take place on Tuesday February 20 at
6pm PST to $2.99.
Links for Legion of the Damned
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.
Free Read Friday: E is for Everett Park
|
| © Can Stock Photo / Anna_Om |
E is for Everett Park
Part 4
Read from the beginning HERE!
Tina’s cry became a heart wrenching wail of terror as Arnold folded the baby doll’s rubbery head into one hand, grasping the body with the other, his eyes never left mine as he slowly decapitated the baby doll. Tina dropped to her knees to retrieve the two pieces of her precious doll, holding them close to her chest as she whispered to them, comforting them in their moment of greatest pain.
Arnold’s gaze remained locked with mine, daring me to do something, anything. I felt it then, deep inside, deeper than where we lock away our most shameful secrets. Something primitive that stirred in response to the rage washing through me.
Tina had never done anything to Arnold, what right did he have to come in here and order us to leave. There was a moment when it felt like everything around me suddenly sped up for several seconds as that primal essence within roared to the surface. I’d done it before I even realized I was going to.
Arnold wasn’t expecting it, after all, he’d already beat down the toughest kid on the playground, he was secure in his belief that no one else would dare threaten him. It was a perfect left cross he didn’t see coming.
One moment I was standing there, locked in a staring contest, the next he was turning to the right as my left arm snaked out of its own accord, my fist connecting with his jaw. His knees crumpled, and he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes carelessly tossed aside.
Jeremy and William, who had led a small group over to witness Arnold’s cruelty, were stunned by this sudden turn of events. I was expecting them to jump in and beat me down, but they stood stock still, Arnold lying at their feet, their position tenuous at best.
The children of the playground had grown restless under the iron boot of their tyranny and the scent of revolt was in the air. Sadly the revolt only lasted for that one punch, no one else took up the call. Jeremy and William, though shaken by Arnold’s sudden demise, quickly reestablished their place over the others.
They helped Arnold to his feet as he started to come around, those cruel green eyes burning with a smoldering rage that was directed entirely at me, and those with me. My left cross had been the opening and closing shot of the revolution, the balance of power was still firmly in their grasp, but now I knew it was going to become even worse for those of us relegated to the unpopular corner.
We had two options left to us, leave the playground entirely, or stay and fight. I just wanted it all to go away. Never before in my life had I ever wanted to take back what I’d done so badly. They would be gunning for us now, the triad of terror, and they would not be happy until they had destroyed us completely.
For a day or two things were relatively quite, our three nemeses kept their distance, we kept to our corner of the playground. The others would occasionally glance our way, or theirs. I knew this peace would not last long, it was the calm before a storm that had been brewing for some time now. Had I known then what the outcome would be I would have stayed away. When it happened it would be fast, and furious, and one of us was going to get seriously hurt.
To be continued!
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Book
3, Legion Of The Damned, will go on sale for 99 cents for the first
time since publication beginning Friday February16 at 8am PST and
will last until Sunday February 18 when the price will step up to $1.99
at 1pm PST. The next increase will take place on Tuesday February 20 at
6pm PST to $2.99.
Links for Legion of the Damned
Get the whole series for less than 3 bucks!
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Free Read Friday: E is for Everett Park
|
| © Can Stock Photo / Anna_Om |
E is for Everett Park
Part 3
Read from the beginning HERE!
Sign up to be notified when I update my blog, click HERE!
Ever hear of the boiling frog syndrome? If you try to put a frog into a pan of boiling water it will jump out, but if you put the frog in a pan of tepid water, then turn the heat up under the pan, the frog will stay in the water until dies when it can no longer adjust its internal temperature to that of the boiling water.
That was us, our little group, like a frog sitting contentedly in a pan of tepid water. It didn’t matter if Arnold was the water, or the flame applied to the pan, but he was the one responsible for what happened. At the time we assured one another that it would never reach the level of abuse it eventually did, laughing off his attacks as we would any other from Jeremy and William. But looking back, with the years between then and now to serve as a filter, it was pretty obvious to everyone that Arnold was going to seriously hurt one of us.
It began as they always do with Arnold’s first day on the playground. He just wandered in off the street one day, no one knew where he lived or even what school he went to. No one recognized him, but remember what I said about predators and prey? We knew even then as he climbed onto the monkey bars and surveyed the playground with his cruel green eyes.
“Hey, you can’t sit there,” Robert, one of the popular kids shouted as he crossed from the small group he’d been with to confront the new kid. Robert was the biggest kid there, though he was only in the sixth grade, it was whispered that he’d been held back twice so was in reality an eighth grader.
“Who said?” Arnold shot back, watching Robert with the bored expression of one who already knew what the outcome of this confrontation would be.
“I said dammit, get your ass down off there, and go play with the retards,” Roberts said as he waved a hand in our direction. By now a small crowd was following Robert as he neared the monkey bars, excited chatter coming from the group.
“Come up here and make me.”
“I’m gonna kick your ass from here to Belcher field.” The anger in Robert’s voice sent a wave of ohhs and ahhs through the crowd around him.
Someone yelled fight!
This was getting serious, Robert had never had to threaten anyone, his presence alone was enough to quell any argument. But Arnold was different, he was a predator of a different magnitude, as Robert was about to find out.
Arnold smiled as he climbed down to confront Robert who stood a head taller than him, and outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. We couldn’t see what happened next, but one moment they were facing one another, and the next Robert was curled up on the ground as Arnold danced around him, kicking him.
There was something strange about the way Arnold attacked Robert, there were no emotions with his actions, most people would have been yelling at their victim as they brutalized them. Not Arnold, he beat Robert down silently, emotionally detached from his actions.
When he was done, and the other kids moved in to help Robert, Arnold turned to gaze in our direction. We knew at that moment that we were next. He actually smiled at us before Jeremy and William led him over to Gigantica to celebrate his victory. It was his smile that awakened that slimy ball of dread in the pit of my stomach. There was no emotion, no merriment in the act, it was simply a smile that would have looked out of place on anyone else, a smile that failed to reach his eyes.
It wasn’t long after Robert’s demise as the leader of the playground that we learned what was in store for us. I didn’t really want to go to the playground, but if I stayed home I’d have to explain myself and the last thing I wanted to do was have my mother show up at the playground. I wasn’t afraid of what the others might have said, I was more afraid of what Arnold might do to her.
When I got there Tina was sitting on the edge of the merry go round bawling her eyes out, the others in our little group gathered around her, trying their best to comfort her. I knelt down before her and asked what was wrong, between hitching breaths she told me Arnold had taken Sally, her baby doll, and wouldn’t give her back. I glanced over in their direction, spotting Arnold’s red hair among a group of other kids on the base of Gigantica. It was as if he knew I was watching because the moment I spotted him he turned his head in my direction, again smiling at me with that emotionless expression, his eyes devoid of anything that might have made him human.
This was no spoiled child confronting me across the playground, this was something else entirely I realized as he pushed through the group around him and made his way towards us. The others followed him silently, not sure of what was going to happen, someone shouted fight, but another disembodied voice hushed them. In his hand he carried Tina’s baby doll by one arm, the legs dangling above the hot pavement.
He stopped ten feet away.
“Why don’t you give it back to Tina, it’s not hurting anything,” I said, calling up every ounce of courage I could muster. Outwardly I might have looked calm, but inside I was a trembling mess. I knew I was going to get my ass beat, how bad remained to be seen.
“I don’t like any of yous,” Arnold said, “you need to leave, quit stinking up the place.”
“We have as much right to be here as you do,” Jimmy on my right said, surprising me, he’d never been one to stand up for himself, but this was different. This wasn’t about us, it was about Tina and her baby doll. She was our friend and we couldn’t remain quiet.
“Think you’re tough?” Arnold said with a smile as he held Tina’s baby doll in his hands before him.
“Don’t hurt her, please,” Tina wailed from my right, and it was then I felt it inside, the fear I had of Arnold turned in upon itself to become a cold rage that calmed me.
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.
Ever hear of the boiling frog syndrome? If you try to put a frog into a pan of boiling water it will jump out, but if you put the frog in a pan of tepid water, then turn the heat up under the pan, the frog will stay in the water until dies when it can no longer adjust its internal temperature to that of the boiling water.
That was us, our little group, like a frog sitting contentedly in a pan of tepid water. It didn’t matter if Arnold was the water, or the flame applied to the pan, but he was the one responsible for what happened. At the time we assured one another that it would never reach the level of abuse it eventually did, laughing off his attacks as we would any other from Jeremy and William. But looking back, with the years between then and now to serve as a filter, it was pretty obvious to everyone that Arnold was going to seriously hurt one of us.
It began as they always do with Arnold’s first day on the playground. He just wandered in off the street one day, no one knew where he lived or even what school he went to. No one recognized him, but remember what I said about predators and prey? We knew even then as he climbed onto the monkey bars and surveyed the playground with his cruel green eyes.
“Hey, you can’t sit there,” Robert, one of the popular kids shouted as he crossed from the small group he’d been with to confront the new kid. Robert was the biggest kid there, though he was only in the sixth grade, it was whispered that he’d been held back twice so was in reality an eighth grader.
“Who said?” Arnold shot back, watching Robert with the bored expression of one who already knew what the outcome of this confrontation would be.
“I said dammit, get your ass down off there, and go play with the retards,” Roberts said as he waved a hand in our direction. By now a small crowd was following Robert as he neared the monkey bars, excited chatter coming from the group.
“Come up here and make me.”
“I’m gonna kick your ass from here to Belcher field.” The anger in Robert’s voice sent a wave of ohhs and ahhs through the crowd around him.
Someone yelled fight!
This was getting serious, Robert had never had to threaten anyone, his presence alone was enough to quell any argument. But Arnold was different, he was a predator of a different magnitude, as Robert was about to find out.
Arnold smiled as he climbed down to confront Robert who stood a head taller than him, and outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. We couldn’t see what happened next, but one moment they were facing one another, and the next Robert was curled up on the ground as Arnold danced around him, kicking him.
There was something strange about the way Arnold attacked Robert, there were no emotions with his actions, most people would have been yelling at their victim as they brutalized them. Not Arnold, he beat Robert down silently, emotionally detached from his actions.
When he was done, and the other kids moved in to help Robert, Arnold turned to gaze in our direction. We knew at that moment that we were next. He actually smiled at us before Jeremy and William led him over to Gigantica to celebrate his victory. It was his smile that awakened that slimy ball of dread in the pit of my stomach. There was no emotion, no merriment in the act, it was simply a smile that would have looked out of place on anyone else, a smile that failed to reach his eyes.
It wasn’t long after Robert’s demise as the leader of the playground that we learned what was in store for us. I didn’t really want to go to the playground, but if I stayed home I’d have to explain myself and the last thing I wanted to do was have my mother show up at the playground. I wasn’t afraid of what the others might have said, I was more afraid of what Arnold might do to her.
When I got there Tina was sitting on the edge of the merry go round bawling her eyes out, the others in our little group gathered around her, trying their best to comfort her. I knelt down before her and asked what was wrong, between hitching breaths she told me Arnold had taken Sally, her baby doll, and wouldn’t give her back. I glanced over in their direction, spotting Arnold’s red hair among a group of other kids on the base of Gigantica. It was as if he knew I was watching because the moment I spotted him he turned his head in my direction, again smiling at me with that emotionless expression, his eyes devoid of anything that might have made him human.
This was no spoiled child confronting me across the playground, this was something else entirely I realized as he pushed through the group around him and made his way towards us. The others followed him silently, not sure of what was going to happen, someone shouted fight, but another disembodied voice hushed them. In his hand he carried Tina’s baby doll by one arm, the legs dangling above the hot pavement.
He stopped ten feet away.
“Why don’t you give it back to Tina, it’s not hurting anything,” I said, calling up every ounce of courage I could muster. Outwardly I might have looked calm, but inside I was a trembling mess. I knew I was going to get my ass beat, how bad remained to be seen.
“I don’t like any of yous,” Arnold said, “you need to leave, quit stinking up the place.”
“We have as much right to be here as you do,” Jimmy on my right said, surprising me, he’d never been one to stand up for himself, but this was different. This wasn’t about us, it was about Tina and her baby doll. She was our friend and we couldn’t remain quiet.
“Think you’re tough?” Arnold said with a smile as he held Tina’s baby doll in his hands before him.
“Don’t hurt her, please,” Tina wailed from my right, and it was then I felt it inside, the fear I had of Arnold turned in upon itself to become a cold rage that calmed me.
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.
Free Read Friday: Everett Park
| ||
| © Can Stock Photo / Anna_Om |
E is for Everett Park
Part 2
Read Part 1 HERE!
To sign up to be notified when I update my blog, click HERE!
The population on a playground rarely varied, there was always several distinct groups of children. Some might call it clichéd but wasn’t life the same way? We were born, we lived, and we died. The routine never varied. Our successes and failures in life were merely a by-product of our upbringing, and if one were to look a little closer they would find so many similarities that they only conclusion that they could draw was that life itself was clichéd.
On any playground you had the regulars, a tight knit group who had grown up together, who rarely, if ever, allowed new blood into their midst. They might let the new kid on the block hang out with them, but that new kid would never know the intimacy of the inner circle, forever banished to the periphery of the group, a satellite always orbiting the nucleus.
Then you had the new kids who bounced back and forth between the regulars and a loose knit coalition they formed to counter the regulars. There was the older kids in the neighborhood, the teens who would come to hang out on the swings and smoke, cracking jokes while sometimes drinking what they managed to swipe from their parents.
Usually in a small corner you would find the undesirables who always managed to gravitate to one another. As if they had some instinctive built in search ability that sought out others like themselves. These were the less popular kids, the overweight and the underachievers, the socially inept who would never be able to operate smoothly in a public setting.
Last but not least there were the predators, the bullies who roamed the playground at will, seeking their next victim. They usually operated alone or in pairs, sometimes in rare instances they would appear in threes. These were the kids with a chip on their shoulder, and a desire to share the pain of their existence with anyone stupid enough to draw their attention.
That was Everett Park. Like any other playground one might wander into, whether you were from the east coast of the west, or anywhere in the world. It was the same clichéd setting occupied by the same clichéd groups. Predictable. Even the bullies were the same, to a point.
Jeremy and William, not Bill, don’t ever call him Bill. His dad’s name was Bill, and his dad, according to William, was a pussy. He wouldn’t stand up to anybody, not his wife, his kids, or even the neighbors who took every advantage of him. William wasn’t like that, he was strong, and mean, like his real dad who once played professional football.
William could never come up with his real dad’s name, and there weren’t many people with the guts to call him out on his story. But according to William his mom had dated a football player named William who had been sent to prison for killing a running back while tackling him during a game. After the football player was sent away his mom, alone and pregnant, had latched onto the first guy that would take her.
Together Jeremy and William made life miserable for those of us confined to the far corner of the playground. A rusting sliding board that no longer worked, and the merry-go-round that rocked back and forth with a loud squeak every time you turned it were the only pieces of equipment we could use. The merry go round had once been blue but rust had overwhelmed the paint to the point it was just a memory. The swings, monkey bars, and a massive steel robot we all called Gigantaga was the domain of the more popular groups.
Jeremy and William were not restricted as we were, they had full access to the entire playground, and took every opportunity to make their presence known. More so with our little group than any other. They were mean but bearable, that is until Arnold joined them and the pair became a triad of terror.
Arnold had a look that told you to stay away. With red hair and freckles he was endlessly teased by the older kids who were large enough and mean enough to beat the crap out of him if he retaliated. With bright green eyes that carried an expression of abject cruelty, we had little idea exactly how far he would go, but we quickly learned. Unlike Jeremy and William, Arnold could not tolerate our presence and from day one set out upon the task of scaring us away for good.
On any playground you had the regulars, a tight knit group who had grown up together, who rarely, if ever, allowed new blood into their midst. They might let the new kid on the block hang out with them, but that new kid would never know the intimacy of the inner circle, forever banished to the periphery of the group, a satellite always orbiting the nucleus.
Then you had the new kids who bounced back and forth between the regulars and a loose knit coalition they formed to counter the regulars. There was the older kids in the neighborhood, the teens who would come to hang out on the swings and smoke, cracking jokes while sometimes drinking what they managed to swipe from their parents.
Usually in a small corner you would find the undesirables who always managed to gravitate to one another. As if they had some instinctive built in search ability that sought out others like themselves. These were the less popular kids, the overweight and the underachievers, the socially inept who would never be able to operate smoothly in a public setting.
Last but not least there were the predators, the bullies who roamed the playground at will, seeking their next victim. They usually operated alone or in pairs, sometimes in rare instances they would appear in threes. These were the kids with a chip on their shoulder, and a desire to share the pain of their existence with anyone stupid enough to draw their attention.
That was Everett Park. Like any other playground one might wander into, whether you were from the east coast of the west, or anywhere in the world. It was the same clichéd setting occupied by the same clichéd groups. Predictable. Even the bullies were the same, to a point.
Jeremy and William, not Bill, don’t ever call him Bill. His dad’s name was Bill, and his dad, according to William, was a pussy. He wouldn’t stand up to anybody, not his wife, his kids, or even the neighbors who took every advantage of him. William wasn’t like that, he was strong, and mean, like his real dad who once played professional football.
William could never come up with his real dad’s name, and there weren’t many people with the guts to call him out on his story. But according to William his mom had dated a football player named William who had been sent to prison for killing a running back while tackling him during a game. After the football player was sent away his mom, alone and pregnant, had latched onto the first guy that would take her.
Together Jeremy and William made life miserable for those of us confined to the far corner of the playground. A rusting sliding board that no longer worked, and the merry-go-round that rocked back and forth with a loud squeak every time you turned it were the only pieces of equipment we could use. The merry go round had once been blue but rust had overwhelmed the paint to the point it was just a memory. The swings, monkey bars, and a massive steel robot we all called Gigantaga was the domain of the more popular groups.
Jeremy and William were not restricted as we were, they had full access to the entire playground, and took every opportunity to make their presence known. More so with our little group than any other. They were mean but bearable, that is until Arnold joined them and the pair became a triad of terror.
Arnold had a look that told you to stay away. With red hair and freckles he was endlessly teased by the older kids who were large enough and mean enough to beat the crap out of him if he retaliated. With bright green eyes that carried an expression of abject cruelty, we had little idea exactly how far he would go, but we quickly learned. Unlike Jeremy and William, Arnold could not tolerate our presence and from day one set out upon the task of scaring us away for good.
To be continued!
Free Read Friday: Everett Park
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| © Can Stock Photo / Anna_Om |
E is for Everett Park
Authors note: Years ago when I first started writing I was challenged by a friend to make an innocent place of his choosing appear sinister, his choice was a kids playground. Wow, talk about handing a prisoner the key to his cell. A kids playground? Did he not know the secret things that happened on a kids playground? Things parents never hear about, that sometimes come back to remind us after we've gotten older that kids can be downright evil. Here's to doing this story justice, I hope you'll tag along.
It usually doesn’t take much to spark a memory, good or bad. After all, what has come before will always define who and what we are today. While we may have grown older, maybe even wiser in some cases, at times the past grows restless in its shadowy crypt and reaches out to remind us it’s still there, waiting. It could be the way the sun slants through our window, a sound we haven’t heard for years, or even a smell that has the power to transport us back to a time and place we thought long forgotten.
For me it was an article in the paper, a single paragraph tucked away back on the third page, between an ad for the end of summer sale at Randolph Galleries Furniture, and the tail end of a story continued from page one. Just a gathering of words on a piece of paper, nothing more threatening than soy ink on newsprint. It was what the words said that opened the door to a memory I thought I had successfully walled myself off from.
The story didn’t speak of that day in October when I was only twelve. There was no mention of chilly evenings at the tail end of hot afternoons that were getting cut shorter with every passing day. The heat of summer had yet to relinquish its grip entirely, the grass was still green, and the leaves had begun to turn, but had yet to fall. There was color on the ground. A vivid, red, the shade of freshly spilled blood that was so bright against the dusty ground.
I saw it all with my minds eye as I held the paper in my shaking hands. The small heading above that solitary paragraph was a single line of type that read.
CITY CLOSING EVERETT PARK
I didn’t need the story underneath the title. Just the name was enough to spark the memory and bring it back from where I thought I had securely locked it away. But none of our memories are ever really locked away are they? Especially our childhood memories. For they’re the most powerful, coming from a time when we are at out most impressionable. So strong in fact that as I stood there staring unseeing at the open paper in my hand, I could smell that day, and it smelled of death.
Everett Park was more a playground than a park. A dusty field at the end of South Water street. Tucked into the woods in such a way it was difficult for our parents to see what we were doing, unless they entered the playground, which they rarely did. I’d like to believe they trusted us to be good and do what was right. But later, as I’d lay awake in bed reliving that day, I sometimes wondered if maybe our parents stayed away because they were expected to.
Maybe what happened that day had been planned by others outside our small group, and we were nothing more than puppets in some diabolical plot. Maybe it was a right of passage and our parents had done the same thing as children themselves.
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.
This Week in Horror 12/6/2017
ALT-Reich: A LitFPS Nove - Craig Saunders
Click on cover for more info!
Synopsis:
Think you’ve got what it takes to go toe-to-toe with the Nazi war machine?
Then step up, because this time, it’s not just your country.
Your world wants YOU.
Henry Brandon’s an old school gamer, real old school – nudging fifty, and living in heart attack county. A game falls into his ample lap, a game called ‘The New Reich’, in which he plays John Severance, badass last hope of mankind against the Nazi threat.
Henry races across the world, to Europe, Asia, fighting the menace which rules most of the world. But the true fight is at home. The U.S.A. is in the Nazis’ crosshairs, and only John Severance has the skills to save it.
From VR to Reality, Henry learns there are no reloads. When the Nazis march on the Capital, it falls to Franziska and him to fight the big boss, and save the free world from itself.
It’s only a game, though, right? One with an engine so good you can practically feel the warmth of all the blood on your hands...but sure, it’s just a game.
Fatal Game - Linda Ladd
Click on cover for more info!
Synopsis:
ONE WRONG MOVE
Private detective Claire Morgan has come home from her honeymoon just in time for Christmas at Lake of the Ozarks. And for the sheriff's department, laid low with flu, to hand her a case guaranteed to chill her to the bone.
ONE CHANCE TO DIE
One of the homes in the local Christmas On the Lake House tour—the mansion of an aging rock star trying to turn his life around—has been "decorated" with the body of a young woman, arranged as a bloody angel on the balcony above his Christmas tree. There's a piece from a board game, gift wrapped and left under the tree, a hint that connects this murder to other deaths. With evidence of a gruesome pattern appearing, Claire suspects she's on the hunt for a serial killer.
IN A GAME WITH NO RULES
But the closer she comes, the more certain she is that the killer is playing his game with her, just waiting his turn. The next move might be on Claire herself—or worse, the people she loves . . .
Glass Town - Steven Savile
Click on cover for more info!
Synopsis:
There's always been magic in our world
We just needed to know where to look for it
In 1924, two brothers both loved Eleanor Raines, a promising young actress from the East End of London. She disappeared during the filming of Alfred Hitchcock’s debut, Number 13, which itself is now lost. It was the crime of the age, capturing the imagination of the city: the beautiful actress never seen again, and the gangster who disappeared the same day.
Generations have passed. Everyone involved is long dead. But even now their dark, twisted secret threatens to tear the city apart.
Joshua Raines is about to enter a world of macabre beauty, of glittering celluloid and the silver screen, of illusion and deception, of impossibly old gangsters and the fiendish creatures they command, and most frighteningly of all, of genuine magic.
He is about to enter Glass Town.
The generations-old obsession with Eleanor Raines’s unsolved case is about to become his obsession, handed down father-to-son through his bloodline like some unwanted inheritance. But first he needs to bury his grandfather and absorb the implications of the confession in his hand, a letter from one of the brothers, Isaiah, claiming to have seen the missing actress. The woman in the red dress hadn’t aged a day, no matter that it was 1994 and she’d been gone seventy years.
Long buried secrets cannot stay secrets forever. Hidden places cannot stay hidden forever.
The magic that destroyed one of the most brutal families in London’s dark history is finally failing, and Joshua Raines is about to discover that everything he dared dream of, everything he has ever feared, is waiting for him in Glass Town.
Flame in the Dark - Faith Hunter
Click on cover for more info!
Synopsis:
Nell Ingram has always known she was different. Since she was a child, she’s been able to feel and channel ancient powers from deep within the earth. When she met Jane Yellowrock, her entire life changed, and she was recruited into PsyLED—the Homeland Security division that polices paranormals. But now her newly formed unit is about to take on its toughest case yet.
A powerful senator barely survives an assassination attempt that leaves many others dead—and the house he was visiting burns to the ground. Invisible to security cameras, the assassin literally disappears, and Nell’s team is called in. As they track a killer they know is more—or less—than human, they unravel a web of dark intrigue and malevolent motives that tests them to their limits and beyond.
Babyteeth Vol 1 - Donny Cates
Click on cover for more info!
Synopsis:
Sadie Ritter is sixteen years old, nine months pregnant, and scared out of her sweet nerdy mind. Having a baby that young is tough, but with the support of her loving family behind her, everything should be okay. OH YEAH, and also her baby is the antichrist and it's going to break open the barriers between the earthly and demonic planes and unleash eternal suffering to all of humankind. Other than that, though...should be fine.
From Donny Cates, writer of Buzzkill, Paybacks, Rednecks and the break-out hit God Country, comes a pulse-pounding new series with art from THE REVISIONIST’s Garry Brown!
Click on cover for more info!
Synopsis:
Think you’ve got what it takes to go toe-to-toe with the Nazi war machine?
Then step up, because this time, it’s not just your country.
Your world wants YOU.
Henry Brandon’s an old school gamer, real old school – nudging fifty, and living in heart attack county. A game falls into his ample lap, a game called ‘The New Reich’, in which he plays John Severance, badass last hope of mankind against the Nazi threat.
Henry races across the world, to Europe, Asia, fighting the menace which rules most of the world. But the true fight is at home. The U.S.A. is in the Nazis’ crosshairs, and only John Severance has the skills to save it.
From VR to Reality, Henry learns there are no reloads. When the Nazis march on the Capital, it falls to Franziska and him to fight the big boss, and save the free world from itself.
It’s only a game, though, right? One with an engine so good you can practically feel the warmth of all the blood on your hands...but sure, it’s just a game.
Fatal Game - Linda Ladd
Click on cover for more info!
Synopsis:
ONE WRONG MOVE
Private detective Claire Morgan has come home from her honeymoon just in time for Christmas at Lake of the Ozarks. And for the sheriff's department, laid low with flu, to hand her a case guaranteed to chill her to the bone.
ONE CHANCE TO DIE
One of the homes in the local Christmas On the Lake House tour—the mansion of an aging rock star trying to turn his life around—has been "decorated" with the body of a young woman, arranged as a bloody angel on the balcony above his Christmas tree. There's a piece from a board game, gift wrapped and left under the tree, a hint that connects this murder to other deaths. With evidence of a gruesome pattern appearing, Claire suspects she's on the hunt for a serial killer.
IN A GAME WITH NO RULES
But the closer she comes, the more certain she is that the killer is playing his game with her, just waiting his turn. The next move might be on Claire herself—or worse, the people she loves . . .
Glass Town - Steven Savile
Click on cover for more info!
There's always been magic in our world
We just needed to know where to look for it
In 1924, two brothers both loved Eleanor Raines, a promising young actress from the East End of London. She disappeared during the filming of Alfred Hitchcock’s debut, Number 13, which itself is now lost. It was the crime of the age, capturing the imagination of the city: the beautiful actress never seen again, and the gangster who disappeared the same day.
Generations have passed. Everyone involved is long dead. But even now their dark, twisted secret threatens to tear the city apart.
Joshua Raines is about to enter a world of macabre beauty, of glittering celluloid and the silver screen, of illusion and deception, of impossibly old gangsters and the fiendish creatures they command, and most frighteningly of all, of genuine magic.
He is about to enter Glass Town.
The generations-old obsession with Eleanor Raines’s unsolved case is about to become his obsession, handed down father-to-son through his bloodline like some unwanted inheritance. But first he needs to bury his grandfather and absorb the implications of the confession in his hand, a letter from one of the brothers, Isaiah, claiming to have seen the missing actress. The woman in the red dress hadn’t aged a day, no matter that it was 1994 and she’d been gone seventy years.
Long buried secrets cannot stay secrets forever. Hidden places cannot stay hidden forever.
The magic that destroyed one of the most brutal families in London’s dark history is finally failing, and Joshua Raines is about to discover that everything he dared dream of, everything he has ever feared, is waiting for him in Glass Town.
Flame in the Dark - Faith Hunter
Click on cover for more info!
Synopsis:
Nell Ingram has always known she was different. Since she was a child, she’s been able to feel and channel ancient powers from deep within the earth. When she met Jane Yellowrock, her entire life changed, and she was recruited into PsyLED—the Homeland Security division that polices paranormals. But now her newly formed unit is about to take on its toughest case yet.
A powerful senator barely survives an assassination attempt that leaves many others dead—and the house he was visiting burns to the ground. Invisible to security cameras, the assassin literally disappears, and Nell’s team is called in. As they track a killer they know is more—or less—than human, they unravel a web of dark intrigue and malevolent motives that tests them to their limits and beyond.
Babyteeth Vol 1 - Donny Cates
Click on cover for more info!
Synopsis:
Sadie Ritter is sixteen years old, nine months pregnant, and scared out of her sweet nerdy mind. Having a baby that young is tough, but with the support of her loving family behind her, everything should be okay. OH YEAH, and also her baby is the antichrist and it's going to break open the barriers between the earthly and demonic planes and unleash eternal suffering to all of humankind. Other than that, though...should be fine.
From Donny Cates, writer of Buzzkill, Paybacks, Rednecks and the break-out hit God Country, comes a pulse-pounding new series with art from THE REVISIONIST’s Garry Brown!
HHAC 2016 Cazandra Roodt
We've all heard the expression, "best laid plans," well that about sums up my plans for this years Halloween Horror Author Countdown. I wanted to devote this years countdown to new writers in the horror genre, those with only one release to their name. As usual I became sidetracked by my own writing and before I knew it October had snuck up on me. So without further adieu let's kick this year's countdown off, a day later than planned.
You know what else they say, "better late than never." One last note, there will be no giveaway this year. But I would appreciate it if everyone would share these posts with their friends on Facebook, Twitter, Goggle +, and beyond. Let's all get together and help spread the word for these new writers.
Permit me to introduce Cazandra Roodt, and her short novelette Angles in Purgatory
You know what else they say, "better late than never." One last note, there will be no giveaway this year. But I would appreciate it if everyone would share these posts with their friends on Facebook, Twitter, Goggle +, and beyond. Let's all get together and help spread the word for these new writers.
Permit me to introduce Cazandra Roodt, and her short novelette Angles in Purgatory
Click on cover for more info or to order!
Synopsis:
"In disbelief I gaped at myself lying on the ground, and saw a smile
curving on my lips, my hand reaching out to myself, and I moved forward
to take my hand, and just when I grabbed it, everything became black and
silent, and there was nothing... we died together." In this moment
Zahara's life changed forever. With a Guardian Angel by her side, this
was the start of her gruesome encounters with a lost one and her
frightening meetings with a dark one.
About the Author
Hi. First off, I have the utmost respect for people who can tell a
story in a captivating and elegant way. So much so that I do not see
myself as a writer, and the fact that I wrote a short story doesn't
necessarily make me one. I am a baker, and I remember making my first
novelty cake. I felt dumb and sometimes like I am grasping at straws in
the dark, that one cake did not make me a baker. Now a few years later, I
am comfortable with baking, and I make a living out of it. I work from
home, which left me with time on hand to pursue this dream of telling a
story.
I was chewing on ideas for quite a while, and then the thought popped into my head. I had my first character and from there it grew into a few characters. They started interacting, and soon got woven into a story I wanted to tell. Its kind of like adding ingredients, first the butter, then eggs, flour and flavours, patiently baking it to perfection. Except there is no recipe to follow.
I was chewing on ideas for quite a while, and then the thought popped into my head. I had my first character and from there it grew into a few characters. They started interacting, and soon got woven into a story I wanted to tell. Its kind of like adding ingredients, first the butter, then eggs, flour and flavours, patiently baking it to perfection. Except there is no recipe to follow.
So, here I am, a
first time writer, hoping to be half as good as the writers here. Thank
you for joining me on my journey. I expected it to be one short book,
but the idea grew into a series of books, which left me with loads to
play with.
Parasite: Excerpt
They have watched from the shadows since the dawn of time.
Jealous god who once ruled a young planet.
Seeking a return to their former glory.
Only one person stands in their way.
They've awakened from an ageless sleep.
Quietly taking over the world one household at a time. Moving in the dead of night, replacing those smiling neighbors across the street with an unholy union of man and beast. They've waited eons to reclaim this world as their own, and when the balance of power tilts in their favor,the feeding will begin. Until that time they make every effort to remain hidden from view, relying on man's ignorance of the true nature of the cosmos around them to mask their movements as their influence spreads.
One man has witnessed first hand the power these creatures' possess.
Sam Hardin defeated them in the past, or so he thought, for what should have died in the fire at his cabin didn't. After losing his wife and daughter to this creature's vengeance, Sam shoulders his role of executioner, and with his son at his side sets out to conduct a covert war against this growing menace.
If he fails mankind will awaken one morning to new master, for there is only room for one at the top of the food chain.
Excerpt:
Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention and he turned his head to see Dave emerging from the forest on his left. From his right came the sound of leaves stirring and he quickly swiveled his head to the right, spotting a kid he knew only by sight. It was one of Randy’s friends from school. Now there were three of them and he had as yet to see that strange animal.
“Could you run down to the basement and get me a jar of corn?” His mother said as she stepped out onto the porch. She stopped when she saw Randy at the edge of the woods.
“Are they your friends?” She said.
Anthony shook his head as he removed his hand from within his backpack and stood up. “They’re no friends of mine.”
His mother’s eyes hardened and she stepped off the porch. “You get out of here right now, you hear me?” There was anger in her voice, that motherly instinct kicking in to protect her young.
“I know who you are,” Anthony’s mom shouted, “I know your mother, what would she think of the way you’re acting?”
“Mom, don’t.” Anthony said as he stepped off the porch, panic washing through him as he imagined what would happen to her if Randy and his friends got a hold of her. He had the gun in his hand and he brought it up to aim it at Randy who took several steps back. “You don’t understand.” He said.
“I understand what’s happening here.” She said, glancing back at him, her eyes widening in fear at the gun in his hand. “Why do you have that? Where did you get it? Who gave it to you?”
“Please, mom, go back inside, you think you know what’s going on but you really don’t.” Anthony settled into his shooters stance.
“What in the hell is happening to you? You put that gun away, right now. Do you hear me? I’m your mother and I’m telling you to put that gun away right now.”
“I can’t.” Anthony said.
She reached for the pistol and Anthony sidestepped her. “Give it to me right now.”
“No,” Anthony shouted, “go back inside, now, you don’t know what’s going on.”
“I’m calling your father,” she said as she turned and marched back into the house.
Anthony retreated to the porch, never taking his eyes off of Randy who watched him silently. Inside he heard his mother talking to his father on the phone, her voice crackling with emotion, rising and falling in response to his father’s unheard comments.
“Where did he get the gun?”
Randy stepped away from the forest and started across the back yard towards Anthony who stood up and brandished his weapon.
“No I am not calling the police on my son.” His mother said inside as he stepped off the porch and brought up the pistol to aim at Randy.
“Stay away from me.” Anthony shouted as he settled into a shooters stance and aimed down the barrel.
Randy smiled and in that lopsided grin Anthony saw his own demise. They would never stop until he was dead and buried along with anyone else who got in the way. Including his mother and father. He had to stop it here, now, and with the decision made he drew a bead on Randy’s forehead. It didn’t matter what happened to him anymore, as long as his mom and dad were safe he would be happy.
With the decision made he found his nerves settling down as a cold, emotionless, calm overcame him. Gently he caressed the trigger, taking up the slack, and gave it a gentle squeeze. He knew what to expect this time and rode out the recoil as the forty five-caliber slug crossed the distance between them almost instantly. Randy’s head whipped back as a bloody third eye miraculously appeared on his forehead.
Anthony was only dimly aware of his mother screaming on the telephone as the sound of the shot faded into the distance like thunder. Randy dropped lifelessly to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut unexpectedly.
As he lowered the pistol, returning to level from the recoil, Anthony swung the muzzle around until it was pointing at Dave. Without thought he squeezed the trigger again, the bridge of Dave’s nose exploding in a spray of blood, flesh, and bone as the blunt nosed round plowed into his brain. Like Randy Dave dropped to the ground where he remained motionless.
His mother was screaming from inside the house as Anthony spun around to confront the last of his would be tormentors. But he had vanished into the gloomy depths of the forest.
Then it came to him, his emotions flooding his body and he dropped to his knees and vomited as the sound of a distant siren warbled in and out of focus. They were coming for him.
End Excerpt
“Could you run down to the basement and get me a jar of corn?” His mother said as she stepped out onto the porch. She stopped when she saw Randy at the edge of the woods.
“Are they your friends?” She said.
Anthony shook his head as he removed his hand from within his backpack and stood up. “They’re no friends of mine.”
His mother’s eyes hardened and she stepped off the porch. “You get out of here right now, you hear me?” There was anger in her voice, that motherly instinct kicking in to protect her young.
“I know who you are,” Anthony’s mom shouted, “I know your mother, what would she think of the way you’re acting?”
“Mom, don’t.” Anthony said as he stepped off the porch, panic washing through him as he imagined what would happen to her if Randy and his friends got a hold of her. He had the gun in his hand and he brought it up to aim it at Randy who took several steps back. “You don’t understand.” He said.
“I understand what’s happening here.” She said, glancing back at him, her eyes widening in fear at the gun in his hand. “Why do you have that? Where did you get it? Who gave it to you?”
“Please, mom, go back inside, you think you know what’s going on but you really don’t.” Anthony settled into his shooters stance.
“What in the hell is happening to you? You put that gun away, right now. Do you hear me? I’m your mother and I’m telling you to put that gun away right now.”
“I can’t.” Anthony said.
She reached for the pistol and Anthony sidestepped her. “Give it to me right now.”
“No,” Anthony shouted, “go back inside, now, you don’t know what’s going on.”
“I’m calling your father,” she said as she turned and marched back into the house.
Anthony retreated to the porch, never taking his eyes off of Randy who watched him silently. Inside he heard his mother talking to his father on the phone, her voice crackling with emotion, rising and falling in response to his father’s unheard comments.
“Where did he get the gun?”
Randy stepped away from the forest and started across the back yard towards Anthony who stood up and brandished his weapon.
“No I am not calling the police on my son.” His mother said inside as he stepped off the porch and brought up the pistol to aim at Randy.
“Stay away from me.” Anthony shouted as he settled into a shooters stance and aimed down the barrel.
Randy smiled and in that lopsided grin Anthony saw his own demise. They would never stop until he was dead and buried along with anyone else who got in the way. Including his mother and father. He had to stop it here, now, and with the decision made he drew a bead on Randy’s forehead. It didn’t matter what happened to him anymore, as long as his mom and dad were safe he would be happy.
With the decision made he found his nerves settling down as a cold, emotionless, calm overcame him. Gently he caressed the trigger, taking up the slack, and gave it a gentle squeeze. He knew what to expect this time and rode out the recoil as the forty five-caliber slug crossed the distance between them almost instantly. Randy’s head whipped back as a bloody third eye miraculously appeared on his forehead.
Anthony was only dimly aware of his mother screaming on the telephone as the sound of the shot faded into the distance like thunder. Randy dropped lifelessly to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut unexpectedly.
As he lowered the pistol, returning to level from the recoil, Anthony swung the muzzle around until it was pointing at Dave. Without thought he squeezed the trigger again, the bridge of Dave’s nose exploding in a spray of blood, flesh, and bone as the blunt nosed round plowed into his brain. Like Randy Dave dropped to the ground where he remained motionless.
His mother was screaming from inside the house as Anthony spun around to confront the last of his would be tormentors. But he had vanished into the gloomy depths of the forest.
Then it came to him, his emotions flooding his body and he dropped to his knees and vomited as the sound of a distant siren warbled in and out of focus. They were coming for him.
End Excerpt
Also available at:
Createspace (Print)
New Discovery: Gristle & Bone
New Discovery: Gristle & Bone by Duncan Ralston
Click on cover for more info or to order!
Click on cover for more info or to order!
Short and novella-length dark fiction from the twisted imagination of Duncan Ralston.
BABY TEETH
After doctors tell her she can't be pregnant, Candace learns that not every child is a gift.
BEWARE OF DOG
Disgraced soldier Dean Vogel returns to his hometown and confronts the bullies, and a horrifying event, from his past.
VIRAL
A reporter uncovers what really happened to the latest internet sensation, a troubled girl who disappeared on camera.
ARTIFACT (#37)
Gonzo pornographers learn a brutal lesson following a tragedy they inadvertently caused when life imitated "art."
//END USER
Anti-social conspiracy theorist Mason Adler’s life is turned upside-down when he begins receiving eerily personal and prophetic spam that could be heralding the Apocalypse.
FAT OF THE LAND
A couple discovers the secret of a tourist town's prosperity may lie in its sinfully delicious cuisine.
SCAVENGERS
When successful restaurant owners Jim and Leanne Taymor confess to a grisly series of small town murders, their neighbor learns the gruesome truth that led them to kill. In Knee High, Nebraska, someone–or something–has been stalking household pets in the dead of night… but would they rather be hunting us?
BABY TEETH
After doctors tell her she can't be pregnant, Candace learns that not every child is a gift.
BEWARE OF DOG
Disgraced soldier Dean Vogel returns to his hometown and confronts the bullies, and a horrifying event, from his past.
VIRAL
A reporter uncovers what really happened to the latest internet sensation, a troubled girl who disappeared on camera.
ARTIFACT (#37)
Gonzo pornographers learn a brutal lesson following a tragedy they inadvertently caused when life imitated "art."
//END USER
Anti-social conspiracy theorist Mason Adler’s life is turned upside-down when he begins receiving eerily personal and prophetic spam that could be heralding the Apocalypse.
FAT OF THE LAND
A couple discovers the secret of a tourist town's prosperity may lie in its sinfully delicious cuisine.
SCAVENGERS
When successful restaurant owners Jim and Leanne Taymor confess to a grisly series of small town murders, their neighbor learns the gruesome truth that led them to kill. In Knee High, Nebraska, someone–or something–has been stalking household pets in the dead of night… but would they rather be hunting us?
About the author
Duncan Ralston was born in Toronto, and spent his teens in a small
town. As a "grown-up," Duncan lives with his girlfriend and their dog
in Toronto, where he writes about the things that frighten and disturb
him. In addition to his twisted short stories found in GRISTLE &
BONE, THE ANIMAL, and the charity anthology THE BLACK ROOM MANUSCRIPTS,
his debut novel SALVAGE is available now.
"Mr. Ralston writes horror fiction that is unflinching and pulls no punches." - Kit Power (author of GodBomb!), THE GINGER NUTS OF HORROR
"Duncan Ralston is writing honest stories about real people, pitched headlong into extraordinary situations. And that is what makes them so horrifying." - Ken Preston (author of the Joe Coffin series), DIRGE MAGAZINE
"Mr. Ralston writes horror fiction that is unflinching and pulls no punches." - Kit Power (author of GodBomb!), THE GINGER NUTS OF HORROR
"Duncan Ralston is writing honest stories about real people, pitched headlong into extraordinary situations. And that is what makes them so horrifying." - Ken Preston (author of the Joe Coffin series), DIRGE MAGAZINE
New Discovery: Mists of Papoose Pond
Mists of Papoose Pond by Blaze McRob
Click on cover for more info or to order!
Click on cover for more info or to order!
Synopsis:
What does the future hold?
Where will it begin?
On a mountaintop?
At the bottom of the sea?
In a spaceship?
Or perhaps in a cabin by a pond enveloped by mysterious mists.
Mysterious mists that secrete forces of nature…
And good and evil.
*
Ed Hageman wants nothing more than to relax at Papoose Pond, but that's not to be. As the ultimate battle between good and evil shapes up around him, creatures are not what they seem. Many twists of fate, and many shock await not only Ed and his companions, but those of you who read his story.
Prophets of yore were not all-seeing after all. Gods and devils are not how holy books described them.
Blaze McRob spins the tale.
Blaze McRob untangles the legend.
Blaze McRob finds the meaning in the Mists of Papoose Pond
Where will it begin?
On a mountaintop?
At the bottom of the sea?
In a spaceship?
Or perhaps in a cabin by a pond enveloped by mysterious mists.
Mysterious mists that secrete forces of nature…
And good and evil.
*
Ed Hageman wants nothing more than to relax at Papoose Pond, but that's not to be. As the ultimate battle between good and evil shapes up around him, creatures are not what they seem. Many twists of fate, and many shock await not only Ed and his companions, but those of you who read his story.
Prophets of yore were not all-seeing after all. Gods and devils are not how holy books described them.
Blaze McRob spins the tale.
Blaze McRob untangles the legend.
Blaze McRob finds the meaning in the Mists of Papoose Pond
About the Author
Blaze McRob has penned many titles under different names. It is time for him to come out and play as Blaze.
In addition to inclusions in numerous anthologies, he has written many novels, short stories, flash fiction pieces, and even poetry. Most of his offerings are Dark. However dark they might be, there is always an underlying message contained within.
Join him as he explores the Dark side. You know you want to.
In addition to inclusions in numerous anthologies, he has written many novels, short stories, flash fiction pieces, and even poetry. Most of his offerings are Dark. However dark they might be, there is always an underlying message contained within.
Join him as he explores the Dark side. You know you want to.
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