tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30539887649188768562024-03-12T19:34:25.811-07:00The Swollen CorpseWelcome Horror fans!
Here you’ll find Short Horror stories and flash fiction.S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-39140084622523186852018-07-14T23:44:00.001-07:002018-07-14T23:49:48.768-07:00Sunset beach.<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Hope hurts, it can be like a finger nail aggravating a
wound. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I sat feeling the august sun on my face. the sun in its own
warming way gave me hope but only as I watched it hang temporally above the
horizon. I had made the deal and tonight at 8:42 it was time to pay. The beach
never looked so beautiful. So many decisions and roads I could have taken. I
sat on my crumbled piece of concrete listening to the waves crashing and staring
at the beautiful purple dusk above. I could smell the warm nostalgic trace of
faraway bonfires as the cool evening wind picked up. So many ways my life could
have been but this was it and it seemed right.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">At about eight thirty my sense of place in the universe
slipped away giving into a fear that made my heart cold and therefore my blood.
Suddenly the comforting beauty and endlessly promising horizon had been
engulfed in a suffocating darkness.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The
soothing sound of the waves crashing where now a menacing barrage heralding
what was coming with each ever more deafening crash.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">About a minute before my toll was due my heart and mind had
reached such a state I probably wouldn’t have been worth much from then on
anyway. That’s when I felt his boney fingers on my shoulder and suddenly I was
ok again. I did not want to look at him, this time I knew he had come to me in
his true form. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">His grasp reminded me of why I had struck the deal on that
rainy day sitting on my knees in the middle of the street. Briefly I remembered
how it felt there in surrounded by the musk of street dust mixed with warm summer rain. Sitting
hoping an unsuspecting driver would come and take away the pain. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iuwFNx1Ubxg/W0rtKg0jPTI/AAAAAAAAAPM/lZspeVPFLX8KAMRYigQb4K14dGuWEhJaACLcBGAs/s1600/ssb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="177" data-original-width="284" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iuwFNx1Ubxg/W0rtKg0jPTI/AAAAAAAAAPM/lZspeVPFLX8KAMRYigQb4K14dGuWEhJaACLcBGAs/s1600/ssb.jpg" /></a></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Now as he
squeezed my shoulder I remembered my baby girl shinny and red, her little body
bent and broken in that car seat. I also remembered hearing the unnerving snaps
and pops as it seemed to put itself back together as he promised. At 8:42 he
pulled on my shoulder, backwards and down I fell, my flesh began to burn but
all I felt was the warmth of knowing she was going to be ok. </span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span>S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-6867718426136052442014-10-30T23:27:00.001-07:002014-10-30T23:27:37.985-07:00Happy Halloween <br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-93ZjXp26S7s/VFMrceJ5h_I/AAAAAAAAAM4/x33VjoOdh1Y/s1600/vintage-trick-or-treat-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-93ZjXp26S7s/VFMrceJ5h_I/AAAAAAAAAM4/x33VjoOdh1Y/s1600/vintage-trick-or-treat-3.jpg" height="320" width="216" /></a></div>
S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-38062814707499580642014-03-05T00:36:00.001-08:002014-03-05T00:36:26.363-08:00Last trek
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The drips of water slowly built up, then would cascade down
the glass in little bursts. I stood and watched this little spectacle from the
hall just outside the icu on St Meredith’s second floor. The water seemed to
snake downward as the nurse spoke behind me.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“it’s time, if you want to speak to her you should now”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tears began to cascade like the rain drops on the pain I
silently waved the nurse away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t regret my lack of words that day, only not being
able to see her once more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I want to think I raised my boys well they are both doing
good financially and have good women steering them straight. John has two
beautiful girls. I am sure Gerald will be a great father if or when the time
comes. Those boys will be alright.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Funny the way I drank I always figured liver disease would
be my drought. But it was cancer for me too. We were connected me and her one
last time. Getting up to pee four times a night I guess isn’t always just a
part of getting old.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">John would have understood but for all his ego I knew Gerald
never would. That’s why I never gave either a clue even when it got bad. I was
lucky enough with excuses when they came by. Maybe Jeanie was looking out on
this. When the time came I took care of my matters and was able to slip out for
my last walk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was a blue morning with a sun so warm you could feel it
before it rose. The air smelt like pine and held heavy with the early day’s
humidity. As I started off on the path from my old Chevy pickup I thought of my
boys and their family: Gerald’s ornery grin and Johnny’s wife Jen’s angelic
smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I walked into those woods knowing full well it was my last.
I had a lot of experience taking my boys on local day hikes and camping. I also
had a good bit of the pacific north’s forest to choose from. I didn’t want my
body found if I could help it, if otherwise I wanted at least to leave just
scattered bones.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YaEpVaTD0Bo/Uxbh-oqr9XI/AAAAAAAAAMg/Yv2ZJ9eUUpE/s1600/3801866-sun-rising-over-a-pine-forest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YaEpVaTD0Bo/Uxbh-oqr9XI/AAAAAAAAAMg/Yv2ZJ9eUUpE/s1600/3801866-sun-rising-over-a-pine-forest.jpg" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">With my truck parked and alibi given I took my walk. Damn
that morning sun was beautiful, kinda like Jeanie’s smile<o:p></o:p></span></div>
S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-11288599128109066122013-12-24T22:14:00.002-08:002013-12-24T22:14:57.735-08:00Merry Christmas <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TMvqI9dzyCw/Urp3xBiLVKI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/gyuqyE2xEu8/s1600/wonderful-1901-christmas-postcard-santa-krampus-qr2126_160472764218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TMvqI9dzyCw/Urp3xBiLVKI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/gyuqyE2xEu8/s320/wonderful-1901-christmas-postcard-santa-krampus-qr2126_160472764218.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
and happy new year.<br />
<br />
<br />S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-72796191692242083632013-10-30T23:32:00.001-07:002013-10-31T00:13:09.174-07:00Who could ask for more?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<![endif]-->He watched a brown leaf flutter and dance in the autumn air
on the way to the ground. The fading sun warmed Stan’s face as a cool afternoon
breeze gave a hint of the chilly night to come. Stanley felt lonely; he had
wanted to partake in the festivities. Sitting on the ancient brick wall that
lined the steps to the old courthouse he surveyed the celebration of Sleepy
Meadow’s Fall Festival from a distance.<br />
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<br /></div>
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It used to be called All Hallows Eve celebration. Back when
you could still go in the court house. Back when the old redbrick-walled and gabled
roofed building was a living part of the town that surrounded it. Now it was
just the center of a park. A place seldom used but for festivities like the Fourth
of July picnic and of course the Fall Fest. </div>
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A dozen old and knurled oaks stood throughout the park. Some
so old people said they were saplings back when old Ben flew his kite. Stan had
often wondered what sights these giants had seen over the centuries. Today they
gave the hay-bale mazes, hot dog vendors and bouncy houses shade. One grayer
and taller then the rest was named old glory. It was said to have held the
ropes around many-a-horse thief and some say even a few witches’ necks. </div>
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Stan gazed up at its skeletal-like branches reaching into
the darkening sky. While sitting there daydreaming he heard a voice that seemed
to be part of the cold autumn breeze.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You look all dressed up with nowhere to go.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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She was beautiful but pale like a porcelain doll. Stan felt
uncomfortable since he knew what she meant. He had put his best suit on and
painted his face that of a skeleton. He did so for his love of Halloween but without
little ones or other reason, he felt too misunderstood to join the rest. She was
dressed up too. But unlike him she wore a Victorian dress and pale make-up and
did so very fittingly.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“I am going to an All Hallows Eve Party, want to go Stanley?” Her voice again was like a whisper on the wind.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Sure!” he said excited, without a thought as to how she
knew his name.</div>
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Jumping down from the stairs he took her outreached hand
which felt cold under a satin glove.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Are you sure I’ll be welcomed?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stanley asked.</div>
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<br /></div>
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A breeze blew again through the old oaks; it was a bit
stronger this time and Stanley shuttered. He looked at his new companion. Up close her eyes were dark,
almost black but beautiful. She gently caressed his chin.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Don’t be silly, come on.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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They walked while the sun set and each house began to light
there jack-o-lanterns. Glowing smiles and the smell of burning candles greeted
them as they passed. Few words were spoken; Stanley sensed his new friend was
just as charmed by the dusk as he was. A bit of hesitation crept in when he realized
where they were headed. On the outskirts of town just past the railroad tracks there
was a tree canopied dirt road that led up to the old Barton mansion. </div>
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It had belonged to one of Sleepy Meadows founding families. The
house had been abandoned for years. The old groves around it had grown wild hiding
any trace of what was at the end of the road. The house was almost all but forgotten
by town’s adults. Urban legends and dares kept its memories alive and well with
the children. Only the bravest youth or drunken teen would cross the fallen wrought
iron gate and head up the path for a glimpse. None were ever brave enough to do
so at night.</div>
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<br /></div>
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They made their way across the field to where the twisted bits
of rust that was once a gate laid half buried in soft earth. A huge hunter’s
moon hung high in the sky casting a pale blue on everything. The light penetrated the
trees just enough to make the path navigable. The smell of dust and damp rotted
wood filled the air. Stanley stopped and gently tugged her hand back. She
stopped in one of the rays of moon light and almost seemed to glow. Turning to Stanley
she got him moving again with a sweet reassuring smile and head nod.</div>
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<br /></div>
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A few minutes later the road gave way to a clearing and
there it was. A giant brick monument to decay. Three stories, each surrounded
by windows that held only shards of glass. The windows seemed to be so black
even the unhindered moonlight could not breach them or the darkness inside the
house. What bothered him more was there were no sounds coming from inside.</div>
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<br /></div>
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“Are you sure this is safe, I thought there was a party?” Stanley
said looking up at the silently ominous structure before him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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“Stanley don’t be afraid of what you don’t see, do you want
to come to our celebration?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before he answered she asked again with those sad but lovely
doll eyes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
He said yes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her smile became sinister and her blood red lips glistened as
razor sharp teeth bit into his throat. She picked his lifeless corpse up. With the dead man over her shoulder she walked up to large wooden doors. Delicately she laid him on the cold stone
floor beside one door. Standing she rapped the iron ring of the door knocker. Three
loud knocks echoed inside the house and rang like thunder throughout the clearing. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HW_F7CBClUA/UnH5CqmRh3I/AAAAAAAAALw/K7TkricR6hc/s1600/spooky-halloween-scare-October-holiday-2%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HW_F7CBClUA/UnH5CqmRh3I/AAAAAAAAALw/K7TkricR6hc/s320/spooky-halloween-scare-October-holiday-2%5B1%5D.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The door opened, light, laughter and music projected from
inside. She felt a boney hand
on her shoulder and looked to see Stanley standing beside her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Don’t run away it’s only me” Stanley said with a spectral
grin.<br />
<br />
She smiled back and held his ghostly hand, together they went in to enjoy
the party. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3>
<b>Happy Halloween!</b></h3>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 7.5pt;">Copyright S
Williams 2013</span>S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-14507013188173324172013-05-21T22:39:00.001-07:002013-10-30T23:33:48.131-07:00In the garage.<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Get her in, they’ll be coming soon.“<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those were the first words I remember my
father saying, the first I understood anyway. maybe
not what they meant, not then.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To be honest all of us kids knew we were sheltered somehow.
I know I had more of a childhood than most did, and that it was due to my mom
and dad’s efforts. Back then I just thought I was spoiled, you know upper
crust. Like somehow I deserved the ignorance that was the true gift they gave
me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I didn’t know it by name then but it was Atonement day that
day. The carbon smell of my father’s welder filled my play room and had brought
me to the garage. Before that I had been watching my favorite tapes on the TV.
Grandma had told me about how there used to be new shows you didn’t need tapes
for. Seemed like one of her stories but I was happy with my tapes. Pressing
stop, I walked over and opened the door to the garage to see sparks flying. That’s
when dad shut the welder off and yelled at mom who I didn’t know was standing just
behind me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Get her in, they’ll be
coming soon.“ he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I now know two things for certain. First my father had
struggled for an old ideal, that of normalcy, a good wish for a father but it
was a false sense of hope and led to arrogance. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And second that my father was a tough sob.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Up until then dad had been caught up in the trading and
growing of crops and the dream of a real life for my sister Lisa and me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it snuck up on him that year or maybe he
was just tired, but Atonement day came. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember he screamed at mom to get me inside. I remember
that garage where sis and my skates sat on the corner floor, laces collecting
dust on cold old concrete slab. My thoughts go back to where dad’s work bench
was and it’s smell of rust and oil; smells that both of which remind me of him.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You see atonement day came like it did every ten years. It
was the last holy day left to us since the apocalypse. The ones that weren’t
called to a better place. It was the day the demons came to separate or take
those unsaved and not righteous. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I now know that day in the garage my dad had been getting
iron traps ready and perfecting ol Betsy, a gas powered saw thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never saw him again after he yelled at me to
go back in that night. I learned to fight that night too, but it was in the
morning when I saw on my lawn the ripped and torn bits of demon that I knew the
fight could be won.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Re6sbIkCpI/UZxZ9vsek3I/AAAAAAAAALg/Epny7mYmnoI/s1600/Welding-Garage-2187674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Re6sbIkCpI/UZxZ9vsek3I/AAAAAAAAALg/Epny7mYmnoI/s1600/Welding-Garage-2187674.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Do I know if he could have saved mom and sis, I don’t? I
know dad tried. I know if it wasn’t for his efforts and possibly those of my
own I wouldn’t be here, I am still here fighting. </span><br />
<br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 7.5pt;">Copyright S
Williams 2013</span><br />
</div>
S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-43917654130585880742013-02-13T19:23:00.002-08:002013-10-30T23:34:13.173-07:00Showering.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lately I was thinking I must be getting old. I have been
repeating myself telling the same old stories and same old jokes. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then yesterday
I was in the shower and while trying to scrub my back my fingertips found a
slit. Unsure of what I was feeling I allowed my fingers to explore and slip
deeper in, until I could reach no more. In the damp warmth I found something hard
attached to what felt like wire. I pulled what felt foreign out of the slit and
let it drop.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> With the shower still running I stepped out to see what was
hanging from my back. In the bathroom mirror I saw a plastic cylinder with
rusted batteries attached to two wires hanging from the slit.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bqJjPqVzw34/URxYt8pPWlI/AAAAAAAAALE/OMuY6kGUzcc/s1600/voice-box.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bqJjPqVzw34/URxYt8pPWlI/AAAAAAAAALE/OMuY6kGUzcc/s1600/voice-box.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> I changed the batteries
and since have felt much better. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 7.5pt;">Copyright S
Williams 2013</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-21539645423559017472013-01-30T23:17:00.000-08:002013-02-01T23:53:59.332-08:00FFMH<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Flash fiction music & horror.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We all live here in this yellow submarine. It sank many
years ago. The hall stayed intact after it lofted to its final resting place
miles below. The radiation from the fuel source makes everything in here glow
that eerie yellow. It’s also what I believe for a lack of a better word is what
has kept us alive. I don’t know what eons we will suffer down here in the
abyss. I stay sane by looking out a single porthole on the stern where the yellow illuminates
the outside a bit. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f87eU8Zl-Mc/UQoaGqrJL8I/AAAAAAAAAK0/pLD8BxO5d-U/s1600/thCA4BT69V.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f87eU8Zl-Mc/UQoaGqrJL8I/AAAAAAAAAK0/pLD8BxO5d-U/s1600/thCA4BT69V.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The little I see out there reminds me of my mum’s garden
except for the octopuses of course. I used to have hope but now pretty sure nothing’s
going to change my world.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span>Copyright S Williams 2013<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<br /></div>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-31793568775650053532013-01-10T00:39:00.003-08:002013-10-30T23:35:07.205-07:00In the trees.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“They are hiding up there you know.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Harold stared bug-eyed up at the trees. I remember those
trees their colors green, brown and gold, their leafy tops high and swaying in
the warm west wind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“They watch us from up there, waiting for scraps.” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Harold was always odd to me but I never abused him like the
other kids. I can’t tell you another full sentence from any other kid in my
sixth grade class, not a one. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But Harold’s
words, on our street, that fading fall afternoon, those words are burned into
my mind for all my existence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Harold died that night. His mom found her strange little man
white as a ghost curled with clinched fists in the tub. She would be told it
was a seizure. She would remember his face and know better, but there wasn’t an
answer that would be any consolation. Not to her, not for her little boy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember those words spoken as that last October leaf fell
and I wonder why. Why it took until now to realize we are not the giver of
scraps to those unseen horrors waiting high above and watching. We are the
scraps Harold was speaking off. I had this epiphany while looking into red
hungry eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me go back a little, I should have time left.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The rest of those fall Saturdays were spent in counseling. Not
really sure why, I had hardly knew Harold but my parents felt it was needed. I
felt more disturbed wondering why I hadn’t cared more for a kid I didn’t know,
why I didn’t care the way they seemed to think I should have.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The rest of my pre and teenage years were relatively normal.
Just after high school I moved to the beach with friends, surf city usa. That’s
when I noticed them for the first time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was never that popular during my childhood or adolescent
years. Just after high school at the beach I felt potential for the first time.
The girls started to notice me a little more than before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just after my 21 year I felt to be at the
cusp of something better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I met her at the local pub. The dive sat on the
dividing line of a college town and the ghetto. It was a weird place where the
privileged came to be hard and the hard came to be soft and both came to be cool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She sat at a table by herself. She was both
attractive and trashy. Her eyes followed me <span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">with</span> an uncompromising
stare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I felt ready, I felt i had a new understanding but I was wrong.
My new confidence <span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">gav</span>e off a scent. I felt ready and she knew it. I sat, we laughed and drank.
When closing time came I told her to meet me at the beach.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">the moon lit beach was a pale blue. Her
smile frocked by raven hair was ravenous. I had lain beside her as the waves
broke behind us with gathering intensity. My highest hope of a kiss had been
long realized when her hand slid down my chest. It inched down then it stopped at my bellybutton. A finger slipped in, I grinned
between kisses at anticipation of a tickle. Then I felt her finger penetrate my
abdomen as her tongue forced its own way unnaturally further. With the pain in
my stomach I bit her tongue hard, almost to the point of biting it off. Both her hand and head
retreated. I stood and I ran.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next day waking up was hard but an hour and a half late and
with a soft bloody scabbed bellybutton I went to work. Thinking about the hazy
night before I was able to dismiss what seemed unreal, and herald my new worth,
my new confidence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember sitting in front of my computer hopping to reach
five o’clock. Sitting stagnant and hopping to be unnoticed since I was too hung over
to get any real work done. Then my supervisor’s manager called me in to his
office. This was someone I had hardly spoke to in the halls. It was so strange that
for the first time I wasn’t worried about losing my job but felt noticed, maybe
things were a changing i thought. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I stepped into Frank’s office. He intimidated me, always
had. He asked me to sit and I obliged. He had those plush leather recliners,
not something expected in an office. I felt so uneasy and yet like I belonged there
sinking into the cushions. Like I deserved for him to take notice of me. Frank
stepped beside me. With sleight of hand speed before I could object he lifted
my shirt, un-tucking it he exposed my belly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He looked at my scab.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You’re not ripe at all, no harvest here.” he said with
annoyance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Suddenly his eyes turned black and his teeth numerous
and sharp. And for the second time in twenty four hours I forgot about my social
strife or reality and ran.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://i752.photobucket.com/albums/xx165/swollenguy78/ancestor-grid_zpsbc358282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://i752.photobucket.com/albums/xx165/swollenguy78/ancestor-grid_zpsbc358282.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Outside running turned to walking when I had no strength left. I had
been walking for some time when I heard them start to drop from
the trees. I tried to hurry again but was too weak. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Here now I look at these things and their red eyes and I
know I didn’t get away. No I was left for scrap. </span><br />
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<![endif]--><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 7.5pt;">Copyright S
Williams 2013</span>
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S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-26015913545154836562012-10-30T19:25:00.003-07:002012-10-30T19:29:21.354-07:00Happy Halloween.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g9jEXKLYmXQ/UJCM9Z6jH3I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/5rKIO1aO8mY/s1600/3vintage-devil-and-frank-costumes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g9jEXKLYmXQ/UJCM9Z6jH3I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/5rKIO1aO8mY/s320/3vintage-devil-and-frank-costumes.jpg" width="264" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
From Swollen.S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-47431482604145218452012-08-22T01:59:00.002-07:002012-12-31T23:50:05.157-08:00Splayed.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We all stood at his dissection. We stood uncomfortable and still judged.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7Yp4rSr-88g/UDSfJoydL4I/AAAAAAAAAJs/s-fq2b169f0/s1600/feininger-andreas-skeletal-rib-cage-of-a-gorilla-protects-its-vital-organs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7Yp4rSr-88g/UDSfJoydL4I/AAAAAAAAAJs/s-fq2b169f0/s200/feininger-andreas-skeletal-rib-cage-of-a-gorilla-protects-its-vital-organs.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
We stood there looking down and still judged. He was splayed for all to see. He laid bleeding and bone shone. He laid there and passed no judgment.S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-62612086497042754462012-08-15T00:22:00.003-07:002012-08-15T00:29:51.351-07:00Emily’s love Part 1.<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I just started talking to my daughter last night. Wait, you don’t,
see I, I have been talking to her for years. But it wasn’t until yesterday that
we communicated with some understanding. I don’t want to make it an age thing but
we communicated like adults for the first time. It was beautiful and filled my
heart with warmth I haven’t felt for a long time. We laid side by side on the
backyard grass and stared up at the starry night sky and talked about, well just
about everything. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I awoke I still felt that warmth and I cried. I cried
with all my heart. You see Emily may have just turned sixteen and is so smart. I
am very proud but she’s been dead for sixteen years, she was a miscarriage. She’s
long dead and she may be the only one of them I have ever loved but she wasn’t the
first ghost I have known. The first one, that was Nick. Let’s call it my ability,
some call it a blessing or a curse; really it’s something in between.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I may not of loved Nick but he was a friend, a true one. So
if you want the story let’s start there. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: xx-small;">Copyright S Williams
2012</span></div>
</span></div>
S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-4583887138738254552012-05-31T10:16:00.001-07:002012-05-31T10:16:49.695-07:00Long drive.<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have never seen a sun set like that. I have been impressed
time and again by the huge desert skies but damn look at that. It’s like an
orange and blue lava lamp. The rays seem to come right down to me, pulling me
towards them. Get it together Gary, pay attention; this road’s dangerous. Up
ahead now that is a dark night.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Gary had been used to his thoughts keeping him company on
the drive. It had been two years since he and Jen split. A good year and a half
since they worked out visitation and he accepted the drive as part of his new
life. Nothing in the world could keep him from seeing his little man,
especially not a four hour drive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Looking in the review mirror he could almost see little Nate
sitting in his car seat. Sitting there reaching out asking for dadda looking
sad. Gary shook it off and put his eyes back on the road. Just ahead the orange
haze ended and darkness stood in an almost unnatural transition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The smell of vinyl from the ole gal’s upholstery was a
comforting<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>companion on the
journey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the last hopes life
hadn’t beat out of him was the hope Nate would inherit the car and love it as
he did. But the price of gas and upkeep kept that dream teetering in the wind
as every other hope he had had, each of which ‘til now had all blown away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The darkness enveloped the hotrod and it got cold. Gary
tried his best to keep focused on the road. Time passed and he became lost in
his thoughts. Memories of what had been, ideas of what could be. Somewhere in
the blackness he realized he had been driving too long. He knew the highway
well but in the blackness he felt disoriented. After enough time had passed
Gary decide to pull over and get his bearings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The side of the road felt smoother than he expected, the ole
gal slowed and stopped. Opening the door he felt no movement of air and yet it
was so much colder than the cabin had been, cold to the bone. He stepped out
and looked around. The gravel made little noise, that and the lack of wind
reminded him of a vacuum. The only thing he could make out were the tumble
weeds on the side of the road just before his head lights; beyond seemed to be
absorbed by the darkness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cold
became unbearable. Suddenly the road and tumble weeds seemed to get darker and
there was a growing hum like a trucker’s horn which grew as the darkness
enclosed. Gary jumped back into the cab and pressed the accelerator hoping the
headlights would cut through the darkness once again, which they did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Shv3ZNw8NAU/T8enFB8gxwI/AAAAAAAAAJc/3iMttcciO_4/s1600/darkroad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Shv3ZNw8NAU/T8enFB8gxwI/AAAAAAAAAJc/3iMttcciO_4/s1600/darkroad.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">He drove on for what seemed like hours and then, days. Every
so often he looked back in the mirror at the car seat. Sometimes he would see
nothing, sometimes he would see Nate reaching towards him with black eyes
screaming “Dadda!” he kept driving through the darkness for a dawn that would
not come. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">………<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was the third time in his short career that Brian’s job
had become too much. He now knew why this highway had such a turnover and open
placement. He looked at the little bloody boy strapped to the gurney, sleeping
sedated. He remembered the accident scene, that man he could only guess as
being this boys dad laying there, long dead. This boy still strapped in that
car seat reaching out and calling to his father. The paramedic sat as the
ambulance bounced down the highway, he sat there looking at the boy thinking
about the night, eyes watery with held back tears. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: xx-small;">Copyright S Williams
2012</span></div>S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-17590486639258718852012-05-04T13:45:00.000-07:002012-05-04T14:10:07.494-07:009:51pm<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Why are you sad grandpa?” the boy asked looking into a face
he had always known to be impenetrable and constant. He watched trying
desperately to understand the tear he saw slipping down a wrinkled face. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I am not sad boy.” Jim’s grandpa comforted him by brushing
his cheek with the back of his hand. The cheek so soft and new, the hand dry
and aged beyond what it was meant to be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Go inside Jim, I want to stay out a little bit. Be in
soon.” Gramps watched his grandson awkwardly run to the front door of the house
as only a four year old can, after Jim let himself in and closed the door
Gramps looked back to the sky which had held his eyes before the tiny
intrusion. Another tear formed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The stars above grew brighter than the street lamps. One by
one each began to move. <span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">One
by one, until all shot across the sky, </span>filling
the night sky with streaks of light. Until it no longer felt like the stars
were moving but the earth itself. A fear grew in gramps heart but was
forced back by the light of the stars which grew until that light enveloped
everything. A last breath passed still lips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">9:52pm<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Mommy, Mommy!” Little Jim’s voice was stressed in the way a
mother knows it’s time to really listen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What is it honey?” she asked comforting her little man with
a hand on the cheek. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Gramps! I found Gramps sleeping out in the yard! Mommy I
can’t wake him, mommy he’s sleeping in the yard.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A_AZ2kzCGI8/T6Q_j_tmBpI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/1StaLeMlP0Y/s1600/stars.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A_AZ2kzCGI8/T6Q_j_tmBpI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/1StaLeMlP0Y/s1600/stars.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jim’s sad and confused eyes conveyed a wealth of innocence which is the
currency that life is traded for.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<br />
</div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: xx-small;">Copyright S Williams
2012</span></div>
</span>S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-31558789147043331222012-03-18T00:06:00.009-07:002012-03-18T00:31:37.221-07:00Cool News<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Tales from the Swollen Corpse is free this weekend on Amazon.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Also I went to Wonder Con today with the fam and had a great time. Saw a horror comic panel with Mike Mignola, Joe Hill and a few others including the author of The Goon. Got to ask Mike Mignola a question about The Crooked Man, one of the IMO best Hell boy books. It occurred to me<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">, Lo</span>ck and Key is one of my favorite comics and I never noticed the author was King’s son. Who by the way was a very nice guy and was kind enough to take a pic with me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Speaking of King, a friend recently stayed at the infamous Stanley Hotel and brought “Tales…” with him. It was flattering to think of my book traveling around and visiting such an iconic location, wish I could have gone.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sUrY2ZXgdTU/T2WJJlJgacI/AAAAAAAAAIs/a7es3YRlZFk/s1600/100_0914+(340x255).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sUrY2ZXgdTU/T2WJJlJgacI/AAAAAAAAAIs/a7es3YRlZFk/s320/100_0914+(340x255).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5h9P0SbJu2I/T2WJRiquVMI/AAAAAAAAAI0/nsPiSTi19Fs/s1600/100_0916+(340x255).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5h9P0SbJu2I/T2WJRiquVMI/AAAAAAAAAI0/nsPiSTi19Fs/s320/100_0916+(340x255).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zcx3vTDe6FU/T2WJVkDjWdI/AAAAAAAAAI8/FtAZ4EUhKr8/s1600/100_1009+(340x255).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zcx3vTDe6FU/T2WJVkDjWdI/AAAAAAAAAI8/FtAZ4EUhKr8/s320/100_1009+(340x255).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Thanks GS</div>S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-22810936712150913352012-02-23T12:37:00.007-08:002012-02-23T21:40:57.873-08:00I've been there.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I have been there.” Richard said pointing at the drawing in Susan’s book.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Ah your life hasn’t been that tough Richard.” she smiled bemused at his odd comment.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I am not speaking metaphorically.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“So what are you saying sweetie?” Susan replied in her lovingly sarcastic way.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Looking at the white sunlight coming in through the window warming the twisted sheets, Richard was reassured. He didn’t think he could have ever talked about it without that reassuring warmth.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> He had never told anyone, usually only letting the memory of that day sneak back on lonely nights staring out the window. At night a light that seeped in from the hall made that window an impenetrable pane of black. Thoughts would get lost in that blackness. Sometimes he thought he saw something looking back at him. When sleep did come so did the nightmares. Those nights Richard never shut the blinds, because only that first light made the bad things go away. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Susan turned in her chair to face Richard. She placed the red rubber eraser of a number two pencil against her perfectly pouty lower lip. She dazed at him with those angelic brown eyes, waiting for his story. Richard knew she expected something silly from him, not the lifelong fear-condemning confession that follows.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Well,” he said looking out the window at the beautiful day. His eyes tracked a student walking across the bright green shimmering grass of the quad. “When I was twelve my mom thought it was a good idea to move our family up into the mountains. They loomed over the town where I had grown up. By that time I had been in and out of hospitals for most of my childhood. I had seen a dozen doctors, not one could agree on what was wrong with me. I guess my mom figured if none of their treatments worked why not start trying her own ideas. She hoped getting away from the city up into the clean air might just be what I needed. I actually ended up having more of my spells up there but it seems besides the point looking back. It was a lot of fun up there in the beginning, I made a friend my first week her name was Sara.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thinking of Sara’s face he looked away from the window closing his eyes. The images that came into his head made him almost change his mind but Richard had to keep going. He didn’t think he could stop if he wanted to. Feeling the reassuring warmth of the window he continued. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Sara lived right next door to me. The houses weren’t back to back like down here; small portions of forest separated each. Behind our houses the mountain stretched up seemingly endless. We would venture up some days exploring the hill side, always turning back before dinner. Each time we went in just a little further. Sometimes we would find an outcropping of rocks and pretend an old bear was lurking in the gaps between. Sometimes we would find a hollowed out tree big enough to play in or use as base camp for our adventures. Then one day when we had been pushing dusk and our parent’s wrath, we found a house.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Susan had slouched down in her chair making herself comfortable; I could tell from her expression I had her attention. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“It seemed to be a normal house just like the ones we lived in down below. We walked all around it there didn’t seem to be anyone there but it didn’t seem abandoned either. The windows were intact, the siding and paint were fine. It showed no signs it had been left to bear the harsh seasons without upkeep. The weirdest thing was there was no driveway or road to the graded lot the house sat on. The pine trees came within a few feet of the front door. The way we had come seemed the only way to get there. Maybe it was the way the windows reflected the pale sky or the shadowy trees darkened by the low hanging sun but the place creeped me out. Sara seemed intrigued by the place, we both knew we had little light left to make it back.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hurried down the mountainside. Sometimes one of us would lose our footing forcing us to kneel and slide. You could get going pretty good in the soft dry earth filled with pebbles and pine needles. We called it mountain surfing and it was fun except for the prickly debris left in your shoes. I remember the evening seemed colder that night. Darkness had overtaken us just as we glimpsed light from windows on the street below. The evening air carried a sweet pungent smell of pine dust. Playing on the mountain always reminded me of playing in the ocean, when you got back to the sand or in this case the street you were never near where you went in. We ran back up the street to our places. I waved silently good bye to Sara as I passed her house. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A few days went by. I hadn’t seen much of Sara. I also hadn’t let the vision of that eerie house roam far from my mind. On a rather bright afternoon I sat on a large rock outside my front gate, watching a mass of ladybugs congregate on my mailbox post. I always found ladybugs rather cute but the undulating mass on the post was at least a foot long and four inches deep and was giving me the heegeebebees to say the least.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember sitting as the sun began to get hot and I could feel the tickle of sweat on the back of my neck. I heard a whiz as a stone zoomed a centimeter past the mound of bugs and bounced off the fence. A second stone hit it dead on, sending a cloud of bugs into the air. The stone left a small gooey clump of dead and live bugs on the post. I sprang up and turned around to see Chris bouncing another pebble on the palm of his hand. He was walking towards me and had Sara with him. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chris was a true local his family had lived up there for generations. The real locals were a tight nit group and a bit stand offish to anyone new. Chris had never been too friendly to me, he got along fine with Sara but she had been up there longer. The fact she was a girl helped. He was older but almost a foot shorter than me, I also think that was part of his problem. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Sara said you guys found the blue house?” Chris said with a smirk as he tossed the pebble behind me and wiped his hand on his dusty jeans.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I guess, creepy place. Who would wanna live up there?” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Nobody ever lived there from what I heard.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Sure looked like it, what is it? a summer rental?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Nah, it’s been up here since before any of the other houses. People say all kinds of things, maybe it was a safe house for gangsters or the government, you know spies and shit or that it was a cult hang out and is haunted, all kind of wild b.s. The only thing people seem certain is it’s been abandoned for fifty years.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Sure didn’t look that old or abandoned.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Really?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Squinting one eye from the sun, I shook my head, nonverbally saying that was the case.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I never knew anybody that had been there. You think you guys can take me?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That had been the first time Chris ever asked me for something let alone to hang out. I didn’t really want to go back but looked at Sara and could see she was excited with the idea. Weren’t a lot of other kids on the mountain so getting to be on Chris’ friends list seemed to be a good idea. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Sure when you guys want to go?’</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“How about now?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 24pt 0in 0pt; mso-outline-level: 1; mso-pagination: widow-orphan lines-together; page-break-after: avoid;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I thought for a sec, it was earlier than we had set out before. I remembered the landmarks. It seemed from the back of my house you just had to head straight up. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Ok, sure lets go.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I opened my front gate and led the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We approached my house where I knew my mom was inside somewhere. Once in the back we headed up. It seemed to take much longer this time. The day was hotter than it had been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every step made you perspire, sticking dust to you. The dust made your eyes sting and your lips taste like dirt. Chris began asking if we knew where we were going. His tone seemed to ask if we had lied about finding the place. Just when I thought we wouldn’t find it and he was going to think we were liars Sara shouted.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“There it is.” A few yards up visible between two trees was a corner of the blue house.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The last few feet before the plateau was very steep. Holding on to exposed tree roots I pulled onto the level ground. Perched on my knees I surveyed the house. It was just as before and had lost none of its forbidding in the bright afternoon. Chris climbed up to my side. I put my hand out to assist and he made a point of ignoring it. He sprung to his feet and headed towards the house. My legs were very tired, I struggled to stand. I felt a tug on my arm as Sara assisted me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sara’s eyes were glowing with adventure. We sprinted to catch up with Chris. He was already down one side of the house and headed around a corner. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We caught up to him standing in the front. He was looking it over. I didn’t want to say anything but I couldn’t shake the feeling the house seemed to be looking back.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Boy I see what you mean, doesn’t look like it’s been up here that long. It’s got to be the place though.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Look, the paints not chipped, the doors aren’t even weathered. The glass on the windows looks like it was cleaned this morning. You sure nobody lives here?” I said looking at our reflections in the windows. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Let’s find out.” before we could objet Chris walked up and knocked on the front door. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I wasn’t sure if I was going to run if someone answered, which is odd we hadn’t done anything wrong. The place looked to be a normal house. In fact it looked nicer than where I lived. We sat there quietly trying to listen for any sound from inside but none came.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I told you, nobody’s here. Let’s see if it’s locked.” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chris tried the handle. He opened the door just a little while looking back at us with idiotic self amusement. Again I was about to say that wasn’t a good idea when he tossed it open the rest of the way. The entrance was pitch-black from where we stood. No noise came from inside, not even a door squeak. Chris hollered a hello that was not returned. He stepped inside out of sight; we hesitantly followed to the doorway. Peering in with Sara by my side I tried to make my eyes adjust. Something in the dark moved a few feet in. Then I heard a click and there was light.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“The electricity works.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chris was standing by an antique looking table lamp. He let go of its cord and it bounced with a clink against the glass shade. There was a grandfather clock in the corner sitting still. Under the window was a red paisley couch, the kind you could get sick on and no one would ever know. In the center of the living room was a coffee table with a porcelain tea set on top. The whole place looked like someone’s grandma had just left to get cookies from the kitchen. Its out-of-place mundane veneer was disturbing. It was more than just a youthful need for adventure, we all knew there was something more there.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Above the fireplace was a watercolor of a mountain stream. It seemed so generic, the kind you see at the dentist office, not in a home. A layer of dust was on everything and the stale air seemed to say no one had been there in awhile. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sara ventured in further and I followed. I wanted more than anything to get it over with and get out. There were two bedrooms, a bath and a kitchen/dining room. All the windows seemed tinted in a way not to let the sun in. All the rooms had working lights. Each room was furnished and decorated but with no signs of people. No clothes in the closet, nothing really that said anybody had ever lived there. On weekends my mom used to drag me to look at model homes at new housing developments, she thought it was fun. Those models look lived in but you can tell that no one lived there, that’s how this place felt. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Okay no ghosts or gangster loot, let’s get out of here before we get in trouble.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was headed for the door, Chris was looking around vigorously. He seemed on a mission to find something intriguing to make it worth the journey. Then he found it.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“We’re not getting in trouble. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one has been up here in… hey, what’s in here?” Chris headed into the kitchen.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stepped around Sara to see what he was looking at. There was a pantry door just past an old fashioned fridge. The door came up from the floor about half the height of a normal door.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Hey it’s locked.” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">To my dismay Chris opened it with two swift kicks of his heel. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh wow you guys, check this out.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chris moved to let the light in and for us to see. Inside was a little space with a round open metal hatch in the floor. It was what you imagined to see on top of a submarine. Next to it on the wall was a switch. Sara flipped it, a loud click echoed from below and a light beamed up. Chris squeezed between us and we looked in. There was a metal ladder that seemed to lead down to an opening about fifteen feet below. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Let’s go!” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I’m not going down there.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Suit yourself sissy.” Chris said as he began down the ladder.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sara placed her fingers on my cheek, “Come on! Come have an adventure with me.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I couldn’t refuse. Sara went and I followed. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Each rung felt cold and wet, making the short climb slippery and unnerving. The ladder let down into a small yellow lit hallway. The floors, walls and ceiling were concrete, all dark with the dampness. My view behind Chris and Sara was blocked but there looked to be a gate at the end. I remember rubbing a hand on the wall as we walked, feeling the moist grit on my finger tips.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You think it’s a bomb shelter?” I tried to hide the trepidation in my voice. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Maybe, still doesn’t make any sense, not up here.” Chris replied. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Hey look!” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Suddenly, Chris and then Sara disappeared. There was an entrance I hadn’t been able to see before cut into the wall to my right. It was a small locker room with a wooden bench in the center. Similar to all locker rooms: it smelled of rusty metal but unlike most there was no hint of old gym socks. Chris opened one of the lockers containing a white jumpsuit and yellow hard hat. Sara opened another and found the same. So did I. Finding nothing more of interest we went back to the hall. This time I was in front and could see clearly. The gate was an elevator. I pulled on the door. It opened with a tug and the shriek of old metal springs. It was a metal cage with a wooden plank floor.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You think it works?” Sara said slipping by me.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Even if it does, better question is it safe?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chris pushed passed me and stood behind me.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Come on only one way to find out.” the taunt in his tone was obvious.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was getting fed up with Chris and more and more oblivious to any danger. I turned trying to play fearless and pressed a red button but nothing happened.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I think this is it.” Sara said as she pulled a rusty handle above the button. A sputtery sound of ancient machinery came from somewhere and the elevator started downward with a slight jolt. It became very dark as we went between the floors. I felt a panic start somewhere in my gut but it was subdued when Sara found my hand in the dark and held it tight. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The sputtering turned into a loud clanking and the elevator vibrated. I was sure a loud snap and long fall into some bottomless pit was next. Then light appeared on my toes and grew pushing away the darkness. The ride stopped hard on solid ground. I opened the door and we stepped out. A slight smell of something similar to compost hung in the humid air. We were in a large room. There were four large tables with cabinets underneath. At the opposite end from where we stood was a door with a window in it and two large windows on either side of it. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The light that seemed so bright in contrast was really just a flickering dull yellow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We walked slowly towards the other door. The tables were strewn with various tools, brushes, a little pick, and such. The largest item a microscope looked very much like the one at my old school. A table closest to the door was covered with large pieces of paper taped together. A rubbing, I stood confused looking at what seemed to be writing but couldn’t make it out.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh my God!” Sara screamed.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What is it?” I almost screamed. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Nothing, I thought I saw somebody standing at the window.” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chris and I looked, the windows were black. If anyone had stood on the other side you wouldn’t see them. Although from a brief look at Sara’s face I knew that she had seen something. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chris found another switch by the door. Some lights came on outside the windows. Through the wire webbed safety glass we could see a large open cavern. It was illuminated by some work lights on stands with cables running back towards us. The ceiling was very high, a huge craggy blue granite room. Directly across stood a large archway in the stone, it seemed an entrance to another cavern. It was too dark under the arch to see for sure. Above the arch was writing that covered its trim from floor to floor. It was some of the same writing from the rubbing and it would be a few years before I had an idea of what it said. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We went out the door. Just I and Chris at first, Sara followed but only after I taunted her.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I am sorry Sara.” Richard whispered to himself.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sitting on his bed eyes watery he thought a moment before continuing. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“It seemed we had discovered some sort of abandoned archaeology site, it seemed a fine end to our adventure. Then Chris moved towards the arch, closer to the darkness. When Chris got a few feet from where the light stopped, something came out of the darkness to meet him. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Chris stopped in his tracks, all the arrogance sucked out of him. Sara and I both ran to his aid. No more than a few inches away we saw what had him so scared. It was a man or had been at one time. Now it was blue as a corpse, it was also naked and hairless. A putrid fluid dripped down the back of its legs from its buttocks. Its skin hung on its protruding spinal vertebra.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its neck and head was twisted completely around. A horrible face pointed in the wrong direction stared at us with black eyes. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You two should run, run while you can and never tell. Never tell you were here,” its voice was forced and not more than a whisper. Then it turned its perverse face to look at Sara almost ravenous. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I smell her sins even the ones to come. No need to wait, we will take her now.” The blue man’s voice became louder and shrill. It took one heel first step towards us. While it spoke no one had noticed another creature lowering itself by a single thread. This creature had never been human. While we stood it was positioning itself behind Sara’s head. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It dangled there for a moment just beyond my peripheral comprehension. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It reminded me of a splayed rib cage the size of a child’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed almost arachnid. The creature dripped slime from each pointed rib tip. The burgundy meat holding it together seemed to squirm in anticipation for flesh. The blue man kept staring with vile interest at Sara. She backed away slowly and stopped an inch from the arachnid creature. That’s when I yelled for her to look out. It almost looked to be salivating as it dripped the viscous goo. She turned just as its two sides closed like snapping jaws flinging slime. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sara had ducked just in time and joined Chris and I. We ran. I didn’t remember us stepping more than twenty feet from the door but then it had seemed we could not get there fast enough. As we ran I heard the blue man whispering in my ear, “Don’t tell a soul what you have found Richard.” </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I didn’t have time to think about how he knew my name. As we ran more of those ribcage things were lowering themselves all around us, some as big as we were. They smelled of a rotted carcass and the air became nauseating. It looked as if we were in a maze in a meat locker. It took great care for me not to scrape against the oozing rib tips as we ran. Chris was first to get to the door, he swung it open and almost kept going but I yelled for him to get Sara inside. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He turned and held it. With his back to the door he waved franticly for us to hurry. Chris had a mild look of relief as Sara stepped before the threshold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was just behind her and looked up; to my horror about five feet above the doorway hung another of those things, it was a little bigger than a basketball. The creature dropped from its thread and free fell. I screamed. It landed on Sara. Its flesh covered her head and exposed bone clamped down around her shoulders. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sara fell back and laid motionless. I jumped over her into the room. Quickly turning I grabbed her leg above the ankle. A soon as I touched her she squirmed as if I was the attacker. The thing was too wide to get through the doorway. I tried in vain to pull Sara free hoping it would jam against the door and let go. Its grip didn’t loosen but clamped tighter. I pulled with all I had only to have my feet slide on dusty tile. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You’re going to mess her up.” Chris said looking at the bone portions penetrating her flesh.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Help me or give me a better idea!” I screamed.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Beyond Sara I could see those things falling to the ground. They stretched to grab earth and pull themselves along the ground. Like horrible centipedes they crawled towards us. Chris picked up Sara’s other leg and pulled, Sara began to thrash violently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just when I thought about leaving her, the thing opened and released her. Chris and I fell back against a table. He jumped up slammed the door shut. I crawled over to see how she was.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">From chest up she was covered in rancid smelling slime. Where it had gripped her were three bloody holes in her shirt. I called to her repeatedly asking her to please be ok. She laid there looking unconscious or worse. I was ashamed because I wanted to touch her face but I was afraid. I was afraid of the stuff she was covered in. Her head turned towards me and her eyes opened. Her eyes were black just as the blue man’s had been. I scuttled backwards from her. Chris came over to Sara and asked if she was all right. She sat up and looked at me, her eyes were normal now. She told us in a faint voice that she was ok. We helped Sara to her feet and made way to the elevator. Behind us I could hear a clicking against the glass windows.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Inside the elevator my heart sank as the light slowly disappeared below our feet. Immersed in complete darkness I could feel the things lowering, surrounding my face and head. I tried for the comfort of Sara’s hand but it lay limp at her side. I closed my eyes hoping to get control of my thoughts but when I did I saw Sara looking at me with those black eyes. I opened my eyes knowing it would be just in time to feel one of those things clamp down on my head, but it didn’t happen. When the light appeared above us so did a sense of calm. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hallway and house went by in a blur. Outside in the forest I felt a relief. I was in the real world and had escaped from a bad dream.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We made it down the mountain faster than we ever had. Chris and I tried to talk to Sara but it was no use she just looked at us silently. She seemed all there and made it to her house with no problem. By my front gate I could see the bug stain on my mailbox poll. I turned to Chris as he passed.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I guess we should keep an eye out for each other.” I said not sure what I really meant. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I don’t want to talk about it, I’ll see ya.” Chris replied.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I never spoke to Sara or Chris again. From that night on I did my best to convince my mom to move us back down the mountain. I couldn’t tell her what happened and suffered many un-consoled nightmares. She hadn’t been happy up there either and we moved four long months later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As time passed the nightmares became less frequent and the events of that day more surreal. I met another ex mountain resident while working nights delivering pizzas last summer. He knew of Chris and said he had gone off to seminary school. I already knew what had become of Sara, I found out my high school junior year. My mom avoided talking about it for a while. Before she did I saw Sara’s face on the front of a newspaper in a vending machine. Sara had repeatedly stabbed her parents with a kitchen knife while they slept. She killed them and was sent for life to the west county institution. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I tried not to but have thought a lot about that day since. In classic lit of my sophomore year I had to read the divine comedy and recognized what I had seen on that rubbing.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hnotiH1vKVo/T0ajaaRDZ_I/AAAAAAAAAIk/6lf_OnvbfBg/s1600/abandon-all-hope-ye-who-enter-here.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" lda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hnotiH1vKVo/T0ajaaRDZ_I/AAAAAAAAAIk/6lf_OnvbfBg/s1600/abandon-all-hope-ye-who-enter-here.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Oh really?” Susan asked looking at me oddly.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Somewhere in the text around that arch: ‘Abandon all hope ye who enter here’ was written. I don’t know why but I am sure of it.”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Are you saying you found an entrance to hell Richard?” Susan said looking bemused.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I am.” I replied trying to look serious enough not to seem crazy.</span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/" name="_GoBack"></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“But you weren’t supposed to tell.” said Sara looking at me with eyes black as the depths of the pit. </span></span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: xx-small;">Copyright S Williams 2012</span></div></div>S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-61135585637390960142011-12-22T12:49:00.000-08:002011-12-22T12:53:12.044-08:00The Krampus is coming.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><strong>Hope you’re on the nice list!</strong></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RTKbKLKC2QA/TvOXvm9MY1I/AAAAAAAAAIU/l00UuQF68I4/s1600/Krumpus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RTKbKLKC2QA/TvOXvm9MY1I/AAAAAAAAAIU/l00UuQF68I4/s320/Krumpus.jpg" width="203" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Calibri; font-size: x-large;"><strong>Happy Holidays !</strong></span></div>S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-85041052785040973092011-12-12T16:36:00.000-08:002011-12-12T16:36:14.171-08:00The morning after.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The laughter was still ringing in his ears from his nephew’s party. But it’s high joyfully tones began to slow, becoming sinister, tormenting him as he tossed and turned. Also tormenting him were the images, his mind was a storm with them. He had been to so many places in a short time, seeing things real and not. He withered and squirmed under heavy bedding while drifting between nightmares and memories.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was the image of that crippled child which caused the most dread. Before, the twinkle in the little boy’s eye seemed to illuminate and disperse the darkness that had always been in his heart. But now the image of the boys face was becoming twisted and the child’s smile insidious. For his body fought the toxin and the darkness was seeping back in, re-tinting his eyes to see the world as he always had before. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Somewhere, just before the first rays of morning sun, his fever broke. He sat up, shivering in his sweat soaked night clothes. The smell of pitch from the smoldering fireplace filled the cold room. He sat weary, with no idea that it was mere bread mold that had caused the visions and later the physical suffering. He only knew that he felt mostly himself again, and the prior day hallucinations no longer had any hold on him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The hate which had only briefly left him for a single day was now back and turning to rage. He thought about the promises made and money squandered that unpleasant day. Still weak he used that anger to get dressed. He made his way out to the drafty hall and down his long creaking staircase. His strength was coming back with each step. He descended, all the while thinking about being swindled. The fury almost overtook him. He was sure it had all been a devious plot against him, his anger blinded him to the impracticalities of such an endeavor. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Downstairs he went to the kitchen and with a little effort procured the cleaver his house lady had left in the block. He went to the front door where he put on his top hat. Stepping outside he took a few steps then turned to shut and lock the door. His eyes caught the doorknocker. He remembered two nights before, of the delusion of a ghostly face appearing there.</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Bah humbug” he whispered through a crooked smile. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6f0KygdmxWI/TuadloIRFxI/AAAAAAAAAIA/k8pdewuuJko/s1600/eb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" oda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6f0KygdmxWI/TuadloIRFxI/AAAAAAAAAIA/k8pdewuuJko/s1600/eb.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ebenezer turned, with cane and cleaver in hand and retribution on his mind, he stepped out into the cold gray winter morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-55174272255273296212011-12-10T10:06:00.000-08:002011-12-10T10:11:28.108-08:00Daily bit of horrorDaily Frights from Pill Hill Press was released today and coming soon to Amazon. A flash story for every day of the year! Including two of my stories: “Expansion” and “In the Dirt”. Never be without terror again.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.pillhillpress.com/shoppe-daily-flash-publications.html" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="306px" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YdVPHQ_QUOA/TuOfb1Z6mmI/AAAAAAAAAH4/NAzkCPYq1N0/s320/4157870_orig.jpg" width="235px" /></a></div>S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-84188734744707108552011-12-05T10:26:00.000-08:002011-12-05T10:29:04.461-08:00Tis the Season.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Check out the 12 Days of Creep Fest!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://creepfestblogtours.blogspot.com" /><img border="0" dda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B2s9nQq0VzQ/Tt0MtZZD6dI/AAAAAAAAAHU/nnBBmP9BW_k/s1600/PoeXmas.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div>S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-70473858690151386312011-11-15T14:41:00.000-08:002011-11-21T09:40:03.679-08:00The wish box.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Answers are never simple, even when they seem to be. I believe most people can never be satisfied. There is always something more needed, always something better. They tell themselves things like: “Well when I get that promotion I’ll be happy” or “If I was with her instead, things would be good.” I was like that, never completely content. The grass is always greener as they say.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then one day I found something, a short cut. A pragmatic escape from the before-mentioned repeating cycle the masses suffer. I, Joseph Hornell, found the box. I could say it was the answer, everything I wanted. But again things are never that simple. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember that day. I had been dating Julie for quite some time. She had curiously lasted longer than the others. I had found it fascinating her interest in old things. She hadn’t been preoccupied with all that was new and hip. Instead she seemed to have a nose for old things, thing that felt like old money. I felt that complemented, maybe enhanced my new money, which there was plenty.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We were what she called “antiquing” at some roadside tourist trap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing really stuck out until we saw it. Towards the back of the shop it stood like a coffin turned on end. I thought it was a small armoire. The carvings were too delicate, too intricate. The ornate designs covered it top to bottom. The thing was wood but darker than mahogany and shiny, almost seemed carved out of onyx.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The place had smelled of dampness and dust since we walked in but near it the air was crisp.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A man stretched and wrinkled beyond his years came over to see if he could be of assistance. He had on a little bolo tie and looked like a funeral director from an old horror movie. I asked how much for the cabinet. He replied it was no cabinet. It was, he voiced very assertively, a wish box. Step inside and all your dreams come true, he said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Of course I bought it, along with everything else that caught Julie’s eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t pay it much attention until the spring loft party, when Angelo had taken notice. Up until then he had always been one of those almost famous, a character actor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His personality made up for lack of notoriety, he always seemed to bring the party with him. When he saw the box there was a dozen with him. He laid the flat of his hand against it. Pulling his hand down its side panel he traced the intricate carvings with his finger tips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What is this?” Angelo looked enthralled.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“A wish box.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I said trying in vain to match his enthusiasm. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What’s it do?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“We were told it grants wishes. You step inside, close the door and when you come out you have all that you could desire.” My reply didn’t seem to surprise him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Does it work?” he said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Humoring him and his audience “I haven’t tried.” I replied with a smile. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Angelo pulled the finger hole and opened the door.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pointing a finger inside he asked, “May I?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Sure, why not.” I answered with a shared curiosity. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Angelo stepped into the box and closed the door. There was uncomfortable silence and then a hum that I wasn’t sure anyone else heard. The sound seemed to radiate from the walls of the box. Then Angelo started to scream. The sound of which made the room fall quiet and my flesh shiver. He screamed and we tried to open the door but it was no use. He continued as we tried in vain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His screams turned to horrific “no’s” and then to pleading and finally that last tangible thing what sounded like a whimpering prayer. Then his voice faded away into a gurgle and finally silence. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We stood in shock and silence. Then the door swung open. Angelo stepped out smiling. He seemed odd in a slightly frightening way. I joked what a clown he had been but we all knew there was more to it. Angelo and I didn’t talk much after that night. In fact he’s been very busy, starring in one blockbuster after another. Julie believed the lack of contact was because he had become too good for us.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Angelo’s success wore at Julie. So did the monotony of our relationship. I am not sure which one of us decided first, somehow we got the idea in our heads a child was what we were missing. We tried, God knows we did. Sometimes your dreams just aren’t in your cards, and maybe they shouldn’t be. It was a Friday when the doctor told Julie she would never be a mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The following night I heard the screaming. I made it down stairs in time to hear her gurgling. When the door opened Julie was not my Julie anymore. She left that night and I have never seen her again. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When she left she took whatever ability I had for social grace. My money was no longer enough to maintain acquaintances. The parties ceased. I hadn’t noticed my solitude; at least it didn’t mean more to me than the loss of Julie. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The box noticed everything; it seemed to call to me night and day. I came to avoid it. A fear for self preservation came over me whenever I stumbled onto it. Like a black coffin or doorway way to the abyss, it stood in the middle of my home and it offered a horrible solace. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z1YvWHUnqL8/TsLqqdVkHfI/AAAAAAAAAG8/rxUe2bstUUY/s1600/black.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nda="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z1YvWHUnqL8/TsLqqdVkHfI/AAAAAAAAAG8/rxUe2bstUUY/s1600/black.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">One night on my balcony, fifteen stories up I stood wallowing in the memory of Julie’s smile. I stood and contemplated the liberation from this melancholy existence that a leap would bring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I asked myself why should I think of such things, because if I had truly no other alternative than death, then I had nothing to fear of anything. I went downstairs. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The air was crisp almost electrified. The box stood like an ancient monolith in the center of my loft. The obsidian door was open just a nudge. I opened it more and stepped inside. Holding the small interior finger hole I shut the door sealing myself in darkness. I heard a hum.</span></div>S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-20134801577441260862011-11-10T20:37:00.000-08:002011-11-11T10:24:23.202-08:00The Halloween Contest.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The chosen winner is R. Smales.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Story (written by me) conclusion: </span></div><div class="yiv1989904733msonormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: auto 0in 10pt;">Max knew his friend could be self serving and have a mean streak, but he never imagined this. He looked at Charles charging towards him with opaque eyes and blood dripping from his chin. With no time to think about the craziness, Max ran towards his bike. Charles was too fast, almost in a flash he leaped through a hedge. Max sprinted but Charles was already within arm’s length. In a panic he grabbed his bike and swung it around tossing it behind him, causing Charles to tumble. Max jumped onto Jims bike and peddled hard. <br />
<br />
He hoped he had bought enough time to get going faster than Charles could run. Behind him he could hear Jim yelling for his bike. Jim’s sack was tied to the handle bars, something small and hard in it painfully bounced against Max’s shin. He almost tried to untie it but was riding too fast so he decided to let it be. His lungs burned with each breath of the cold dry night air. It was a good seven blocks before he dared to slow and look behind him. The dimly lit street was quiet. There was no sign of anyone. All the <span id="lw_1320978543_0"><span class="yshortcuts">porches</span></span> were dark and most of the pumpkins seemed to be flickering the last gloomy hues of dying candle light. </div><div class="yiv1989904733msonormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: auto 0in 10pt;">He stopped to catch his breath under the comfort of a street light. As he continued to stare back down the street he had come from, a horrible thought entered his head: <i>If they’re not headed this way maybe they’re headed back to my house, oh God Mom! </i><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;"></span></div><div class="yiv1989904733msonormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: auto 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max took a seat on the curb under the street light. He would do anything for his mother. But Charles scared him under normal circumstances; in his current condition he was truly terrifying. Max sat there trying to muster some courage. The ground was littered with dead leaves, their musty decomposing scent filled the cold night air. Max looked up at the bright full moon then heard a sound. It was a distant slapping on the pavement. Standing quick he looked and could just make out a shape coming his way. It disappeared and reappeared as it went between the dark and lit gaps of the street lights. It was Charles and he hadn’t slowed down much. </span></div><div class="yiv1989904733msonormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: auto 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Max ripped Jim’s bag from his handle bars, spilling the contents out on the grass above the curb. He saw what had been hitting his leg, a thick glass vile, it was the zombie powder. He snatched it up and as he did the sound of screeching tires made him turn around. A black pickup going too fast had barely made it around the opposite corner. The deep hum of base rattled its passenger window pain as it passed Max. He looked too see Charles running into one of the dark gaps and the truck headed right for him. In a split second the knowledge of what was going to happen quelled his urge to flee. </span></div><div class="yiv1989904733msonormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: auto 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The truck didn’t slow down a bit when it hit Charles sending him flying and then bouncing down the street like a tossed stone. The truck skidded to a stop just before Charles's mangled ramains. Max wasn’t completely sure Charles was down for good but he needed to make sure. He ran towards the truck and was able to see Jim sitting in the dark a ways up at a safe vantage point. The driver door opened as Max approached. A very large bald man stepped out and stumbled in a circle. His speech was slurred as he repeated to himself, “Oh no, no, no, what did I do!”</span></div><div class="yiv1989904733msonormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: auto 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">When Max got closer he saw Jim turn and start to ride away. He knew he wouldn’t have dared to do anything with a grown up around. The man saw Max and as he approached him.</span></div><div class="yiv1989904733msonormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: auto 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“Oh God was that kid I hit your friend?”</span></div><div class="yiv1989904733msonormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: auto 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Uncorking the vile in his hand Max flung its contents at the big man’s face. </span></div><div class="yiv1989904733msonormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: auto 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The man stood hunched with those white eyes.</span></div><div class="yiv1989904733msonormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: auto 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Pointing Max shouted, “See that kid on the bike? Run him down, anything just kill him!”</span></div><div class="yiv1989904733msonormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: auto 0in 10pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">The man got back into his truck and sped towards Jim.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When Max got home and closed his front door his mom yelled, “You’re late, and grounded! I hope you got enough candy to make it worth it!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Max looked into his empty sack and thought <i>I</i>’<i>m home mom, that’s enough</i>.</span></div>S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-26417953787553691512011-11-07T20:49:00.001-08:002011-11-08T08:38:11.910-08:00The Hunger part 3.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s been fifteen years since uncle Frank found me. He had brought with him hate and misery. He had took my mother forever and for a shorter time he took me. I think he would have liked to believe he was doing me a favor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me and him, we both know that’s bull shit. That’s why fifteen years later I am on a desert highway ten miles out of Needles NV. That’s why I am looking for him now and I am going to kill the bastard.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> -----------------</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Weak and tired Sabrina put the key into the lock . She hoped things would get better, she hoped one day she would be able to raise her son free and clear. No more overdue bills, no more creditors calling all hours. When she opened the door all her worries were swept away and replaced by fear. A man was in her living room. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Who are you? Where’s my son! Where’s Janice!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Midsentence Sabrina saw Janice’s feet poking out from beyond the couch. The stranger had her pinned against the wall before she could scream. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Please, where is my son?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked over her attackers face for a clue to his intentions. He had a shaggy coal black beard and blacker sunken eyes, his canine teeth protruded like an animal. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ahhhh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh the boy is just fine, now. He is about to have dinner. He has suffered malnutrition so far as I can see.” he said with a whisper.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A scream came from the only bedroom. A tone Sabrina knew well. It was Henry the man that did the basic maintenance for the building. Then behind the scream came another sound. It was a deep growl and it was terrible and yet familiar.</span></div>S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-59593330575689164282011-10-31T20:07:00.001-07:002011-10-31T20:07:23.521-07:00Happy Halloween all you ghouls and goblins!<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Hope everyone is having a safe and fun Halloween!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Contest update: The story has been added to but it’s still not finished. I am going to keep it open until it’s done. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3053988764918876856.post-43891730890790346832011-10-24T12:47:00.000-07:002011-10-31T20:01:45.319-07:00The contest story:<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">This year was a big year for Max, the first he had been allowed to go trick or treating without an adult. The O.K. hadn’t come easy and taken a lot of promises to be good, and even more reminders to be safe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had spent the afternoon anxiously looking out the window for the first signs of dusk. When the shadows grew long and the yellow light more orange, he could not wait any longer. Max put on his skeleton costume so fast he hardly knew he had done so. He stuffed the black hooded mask into his treat bag as he walked past his mom in the kitchen on the phone. His mom put a hand over the receiver to yell a curfew reminder just as Max shut the front door behind him. The cool porch air was filled with the smell of melted wax and warm pumpkin. Lifting his bike from the grass he put one handle bar through the loops of his treat bag. The sun was setting as dead leaves crinkled under his tires. Peddling down the street he headed to his friend Jim’s…</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>The following</strong> </span><strong>submitted by J Jansen</strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">He couldn't wait to see Jim's costume. Jim's dad brought it back from Europe, France or somewhere. His dad went to Europe a lot. The man had a funny accent. Came from there. He smelled weird too, kind of like the Tupperware containers in the back of the refrigerator his mom called "science experiments." His tires screeched to a halt in front of Jim's front door. Jim was there, waiting dressed as a....</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"></span><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>The following</strong> </span><strong>submitted by</strong> <strong>J McHugh</strong> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">...a skeleton, but not just any skeleton: the same skeleton costume Max was wearing!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">"Aw man, I thought you'd have something different," Max moaned.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">"It's cool. I have another costume in my bag. One for you too."</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">"Two costumes? Why?"</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">"Twice as many costumes means twice as much candy. We can visit the same houses twice," Jim declared proudly.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">"I knew I was friends with you for a reason."</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">The first house on the list was the Monroe place. Mr. Monroe always seemed nice enough, but his son, Charles, wasn't exactly one of Max and Jim's schoolyard chums. Quite the opposite, actually. He was a nagger, a bragger, and the blood of the weak fueled his swagger. Max exhaled nervously as they approached the house, but Jim grinned and opened his bag. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">"Don't worry. I have something in here for Charles too." ...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>The following</strong> </span><strong>submitted by</strong> <strong>R Smales</strong></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">"Go ahead and ring the bell."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Max looked dubious, but gave the lighted button next to the door a poke. The door opened and Charles' stood revealed, wearing a Frankenstein's Monster costume. His lip curled as he took in the matching skeleton costumes, but the sneer broke into a grin as he recognized the pair.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">"Well, if it isn't -"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That was as far as he got before Jim stepped forward and blew a palm-full of powder into his face. Charles snorted, choked, and ... froze.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">"Step forward," Jim said, a note of command in his voice. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Charles took one step, then stood docilely, hands at his sides. Jim closed the door behind him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">"What was that?" Max was looking at Charles curiously.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">"Corpse-powder," Jim said. "My dad brought it back from Romania."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">His voice took on a note of caution.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">"He doesn't know I have it."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">"What does it do?" Max was gently poking Charles' cheek, eliciting no reaction.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">"His mind is gone. Temporarily," he added, seeing the look of concern on Max's face.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">"For the next hour," Jim finished proudly, "he's a human zombie. He'll do anything we tell him!"...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>The following</strong> </span><strong>submitted by</strong> <strong>R Smales</strong></span><br />
<br />
... Thirty minutes later, Max and Jim watched from the concealment of the bushes as Charles walked stiffly up the walkway to the Mason's house. Though he still wore the Frankenstein mask and oversized monster boots, the rest of his costume had been traded in for a pink tu-tu. <br />
<br />
"Do you think he'll actually do it?" Max whispered.<br />
<br />
"He has to," Jim hissed back. "While he's under this stuff he can't tell us no!"<br />
<br />
The tu-tu belonged to Jim's sister, 'borrowed' for this evening's fun. She was only five. To say it was a poor fit would be a huge understatement. Max had been amazed when Charles got the thing up over his shoulders!<br />
<br />
"This is going to be amazing!"<br />
<br />
"Shhhh!"<br />
<br />
Since Charles was walking away from them, the cost of pulling that little tu-tu up so high and tight was quite evident. It pained both boys to watch that walk, but they just couldn't look away. It wasn't the Corpse Powder that was making Charles walk so oddly. The view from the front was even more disturbing.<br />
<br />
"Man, this is going to be epic!"<br />
<br />
"Will you quiet down! We're going to get caught! Look - he's at the door!"<br />
<br />
Charles reached out a finger and rang the bell.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"></span><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>The following</strong> </span><strong>submitted by</strong> <strong>Coy</strong></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: white; mso-spacerun: yes;">…Cindy Mason was Max’s first real friend. They had gone to school together since kindergarten. Back then, it never seemed odd to Max that his best friend was a girl. It wasn’t until recently they had drifted apart. Cindy began hanging out with her other girl friends more and more, and she rarely talked to Max anymore. This hadn’t really bothered Max till the previous week, when Cindy ignored Max in the lunchroom. Max said hi to Cindy, and she hadn’t even replied. Almost like she never heard Max, although he knew better. He had seen Cindy look right into his eyes, and then Cindy looked away and continued talking to Samantha, like Max didn’t exist. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
<span style="color: white;">Even with all this, Max still had mixed feelings about having Charles go to the Mason home. However, he didn’t protest when Jim suggested it. “It’ll be hilarious”, Jim proclaimed. Jim had ordered Charles to do a ballet dance when the door was answered. Even had him practice it a couple times. Max, though nervous, did have to laugh out loud. Serves Charles right, and he’ll never live this down. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br />
<span style="color: white;">Cindy answered the door almost immediately once the doorbell sounded. She was wearing a fairy costume. Charles removed his Frankenstein mask. Max and Jim then looked on in horror as Charles grabbed Cindy and bit into her neck. Cindy’s shriek was short lived, as blood gushed from the hole in her neck when Charles removed his mouth. Cindy’s body fell limp to the ground as Charles ran inside the Mason home. Max thought the screaming he heard from inside the home must have been Cindy’s mother…</span> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong>The following</strong> <strong>submitted by</strong> <strong>Rachael</strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: white;">Max gasped for breath and took a step back, He tripped over a sprinkler head and landed with a thud. Jim turned around, white as sheet and blinked. Seeing Max on the ground seemed to snap him out of it. He grabbed Max's arm and helped him up. But instead of letting go he pulled Max close to him and muttered “We can’t tell anyone about this! My dad can’t know about this! We were never here! You got that? We never saw Charles tonight! " <br />
Max gulped “But.. What about Cindy? " <br />
The screaming had stopped and they heard the leaves crunch behind them.<br />
They turned and Charles was standing there. Face and chest covered with blood. Behind him Cindy's mom lay on the lawn throat ripped open... <br />
Max looked at Jim “No way. No way am I going to keep quiet! This is all YOUR fault! "<br />
<br />
Jim looked at Max. His eyes narrowed. He turned towards Charles “Kill Max !!”...</span></span></span></span></div></div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IDdYFmMTDKk/Tqh3lKcKdzI/AAAAAAAAAGk/FTr1jvoSkZw/s1600/pumpkin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ida="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IDdYFmMTDKk/Tqh3lKcKdzI/AAAAAAAAAGk/FTr1jvoSkZw/s1600/pumpkin.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Do you know what happens next? Email the next paragraph (or more) to: swollenguy at yahoo.com</strong></span></div></div></div>S. Williamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05488636944245636922noreply@blogger.com5