I want to introduce you to our newest project, Darkness Within, the Ezine. Below you will find all the hard work put together by various Authors and talents! Please enjoy and comment to let us know what you think of the ezine!
Index
President: Jodie Pierce
Vice President & Cover Artist: Lindsey Jayne
Editor-in-Chief: Jessica Sawa
Articles/Columns:
An Unhealthy Obsession by L.T. Kelly
A Haunting in Michigan by Thom Futrell
Brice by Ronald Edward Griffin
Lore’s Corner by LM David
Vampire Poems by Jodie Pierce
Rand’s Story by Brien O’Raighne
2015 All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
An Unhealthy Obsession
For as long as I
can remember I've always had an odd fascination with vampires. It started with
Count Duckula, he was the only cartoon character I liked, with the exception of
Banana Man, that's perhaps a different story.
I guess there was
a slight lull in my infatuation when I figured that I was getting too old for
cartoons, not that anyone ever can be, but hey, that's a stage I got to. That
was until we all sat down to watch Interview
with a Vampire. I don't think I was old enough at the time, but I watched
with a tightly held breath and one eye on the screen. Perhaps it was the notion
that vampires aren't meant to be sexy men, they were traditionally beastly
creatures that drink your blood. They kill, they maim, they didn't appear in
ones mind as a sensual and beautiful being with which to desire.
Predictable you
think? Brad Pitt was the start of my adolescent desire for vampires that never
went away? Well, that's where you're wrong. Due to my renewed fascination with
the blood-guzzling creatures of the night my good old stepfather recommended The Lost Boys.
My eyes scanned
the screen and met with the ultimate bad boy vampire called David, played by
Keifer Sutherland. At that moment my heart was captured forever.
The Lost Boys doesn't show an idealistic
vision of how vampires are depicted today, it showed bat like creatures hanging
upside down during the daytime. They were deadly, motorbike riding, cruel, but
in the same breath pure bleach blonde hotness. Now that was a vampire.
Of course time has
evolved and vampires have been introduced to popular culture as mostly slightly
bad boy images with a softer side, usually living in mansions, extremely witty,
and irritatingly good looking.
I'm not adverse to
this evolvement of what the vampire legend now represents. How could I be? I
write romantically erotic vampire books.
The only thing
that keeps me motivated to want more paranormal is the vampires themselves.
Yeah, they pretty much all have pointy teeth and drink blood. It's the type of
vampire that amazes me.
Whenever I pick up
a new vampire book, or switch on the TV, I'm focussed on one thing...what will
this authors or screenwriters vampires be able to do, and equally, what will
they not be able to do? Will they be gorgeous? Will they be ghastly? Can they
walk into the light? What will happen when they do?
Maybe it's all
about the blood lust? I can't figure it out. I'd love to know what your vampire
would be, how would they look? What can they do? What gets your vampire off
other than blood?
Until then I guess
I'll be playing Cry Little Sister on
repeat with my head tipped back just waiting for David to claim my throat.
L.T. Kelly <darknesswithin.ltkelly@gmail.com
Voices of the Reaper
A HAUNTING IN MICHIGAN
By Thom Futrell
Nestled in between the power company and the local library
once stood a beautiful Hotel. It held parties on the rooftops, Big bands in its
music room and award winning meals in its restaurant. Celebrities, world
leaders and sports stars of the time stayed within those walls. Of course, like
many places, the Hotel had to take the bad with the good. Gangsters ran booze
through there, and death walked the halls on more than one occasion.
At one point, the
power company next door decided it needed the hotel for more office space. The
Hotel was renovated and made into an office building. It didn’t take long for
the residents of the past to make themselves known.
Keys and
paperwork would move, lights would turn on and off, conversations were heard in
empty hallways. Now before I continue, I was asked to leave names and exact
places out of this article What follows are testimonies by people, including
myself, of things that happened inside that building. The names have been changed to protect their
privacy.
Mike was a janitor for the power company for a couple of
years before he was transferred to the Hotel. He remembered one evening
cleaning the stairwell and hearing what sounded like children on the level
below playing hopscotch and jump rope. Since it was after hours and the workers
had all gone home, this struck Mike as being very odd. He looked over the
banister and saw three little girls in dresses staring back up at him. He said
he stepped back for an instant, and when he looked over the banister again he
was alone.
I spent some time in that building as a custodial
supervisor. I remember one night working and hearing one of the janitors
screaming for help over the radio. I ran to her location, which was in the
Hotel auditorium. As soon as I entered the room I could feel the temperature
drop. She was standing behind the middle row of chairs staring at the stage. I
stood next to her and asked what was going on. She pointed to the stage just as
a circular table came rolling out from backstage. Thinking someone was messing
with her I ran to the stage and charged through the curtain. There was no one
there.
Eventually, a new
building was constructed down the street, one big enough to house all the
workers, making the Hotel obsolete. I was put in charge of cleaning out the
building so the construction crews could get inside and do what they had to do.
On the first day of the cleanup I had three of the crew join me on the third
floor. We climbed into the lobby elevator, a young lady joining us at the last
minute. There were a few workers straggling around the building so no one was
surprised to see her. We told her we were going to three and she asked me to
push the button for the fourth. We remained quiet on the ride up, not wanting
to discuss things in front of an employee there. She stared at me, in a really
creepy way. I was very happy to see the door open on three. As we stepped out
one of my crew turned to tell her to have a nice day. The elevator was empty.
The next day I was entering the building with one of my
crew, who was talking on her cellphone. This was back in the day, so the phone
had no camera or computer, but it did come with it’s own holster.
When we got to the elevator she turned off her phone and put
it in the holster. We entered the elevator and took it to the fourth floor. We
had to walk to the far end of the hall, turn left and follow it all the way to
a room that we would be working in. As we rounded the corner we both saw
something on the floor in front of the room we had to go to. When we got there
we discovered it was a cell phone battery. My crew member took out her phone
and realized it belonged to her phone. The battery got there before we did.
During that same day we were asked to repeat ourselves a number of times by a
friendly sounding female voice. We were the only people in the building.
The last day of the cleanup my crew and I had to meet the
construction crew in the rear parking lot to give them the key to the Hotel. As
the crew chief unlocked and opened the door. A large shadowy thing, on four
legs, ran out past him and into the center of our group where it
dissipated.
The building was leveled recently and is now a parking lot.
Was the form leaving the spirit of the building escaping the destruction? I
would like to think that it left our world to become a part of whatever destiny
it believed in. I have not been in the area since it was destroyed. I wonder if
anyone still hears the music, or sees the little girls playing innocently where
the hotel once stood…
Thom Futrell is a horror writer living in Jackson Michigan.
He has been in more than sixty publications and has four films under his belt.
Brice
A Paranormal Story
by Ronald Edward Griffin
On a cold winter night in the
Tennessee wilderness, a man pulls the hood back on his thick jacket while
sniffing the air. The scent of pine filling his nostrils as he walks in the
woods. He closes his eyes, focusing his senses as he searches for clues to the
whereabouts of his prey. A brown bear has killed several hikers and campers in
the area. It has also been seen coming into town and frightening the
population. The sound of the wind echoes through the forest along with leaves
crunching under the weight of the brown bear. This is the beast he has been
looking for and now he prepares by taking off his clothes. The sound of bones
popping out of place and the shifting around gain the bear’s attention; it
approaches the man’s direction. The bear sniffs the air and is caught off guard
at the change of scent; instead of smelling a man, he now smells a beast. A
massive black wolf steps from around a tree approaching the bear. The bear
stands on its rear haunches roaring at the wolf. The wolf snarls in return, and
leaps forward to engage the bear in beastly combat. Within moments the forest
echoes with the sound of a whimper followed by the sound of bones cracking
while being broken.
Minutes later the man exits the
woods right before a van pulls close to the woods with its bright lights on.
The side of the van reads “Animal Control”. Two men get out of the van and then
approach.
“I um, found the bear. It’s about
half a mile southeast. Something broke its neck though, so it won’t be killing
anyone else.”
The two men stare at each
dumbfounded – not sure what to think of the idea that something could break a
bear’s neck. The look of fear starts to grow in their eyes as they look back at
the man.
“What could have broken the bear’s
neck?”
“A stronger beast,” the man said
with a smirk.
He pushes his way through, walking
towards the town. He is ready for a few drinks after his fight with the rogue
animal.
“What’s your name?”
“Brice.”
*****
Brice enters the bar taking in all the scents and sounds from around him. The smell of stale peanut shells litter the floor, and several men in the bar have had way too much to drink. It doesn’t take a heightened sense of smell for him to tell that though. The sound of darts hitting the board, along with swearing from the irritated man who are unable to hit their target, is evident. Brice could even hear the words of the man in the corner who was propositioning the young waitress. The sound from the waitress slapping the man’s face causes Brice’s face to also sting a little bit.
“Tammy what have I told you about
assaulting the customers?” the lady behind the bar yells out to the young
waitress.
Brice sits on the stool at the bar
while watching the fiery red head yell at her subordinate. The way she speaks,
along with the way she shows her authority, keys him in that this woman must be
the owner.
“But he’s trying to get me to give
him a blowjob out back for twenty bucks! I am not a whore, but even if I was –
twenty dollars is an insult!” Tammy replies defensively.
“Well, how about forty?” the
intoxicated man speaks louder this time.
Tammy turns around and slaps him
again; this time much harder.
“Tammy! You know you’re supposed to
just ignore him and get him another drink. Attack him one more time and –
you’re fired!”
The owner closes her eyes, sighs to
compose herself, and then turns to Brice.
“I’m sorry about that sir. These
girls, these days, are so headstrong – you can’t tell them anything.”
“I understand that. I blame the
music,” Brice responds without cracking a smile.
She laughs at the remark despite his
serious demeanor.
“What can I get you?”
“A pitcher of beer would be nice.”
“No problem. Coming right up,” she
says with a wink.
He grabs a handful of peanuts from
the bowl on the bar, and then one by one removes the shells, so that he can eat
them. The woman returns with a full pitcher of beer and a tall glass. He looks
at the glass, then slides it back to her before grabbing the pitcher by the
handle. Brice starts chugging it right from the pitcher.
“Why don’t I just tap the keg for
you next time? So, I don’t recognize you from around here. What are you in town
for?”
He chugs what little is left from
the pitcher and sets it down on the bar.
“Hunting. I heard there was a rogue
bear in the area killing people, so I helped locate it. Can I have another
pitcher of beer, please?”
Once he looks up at her into her
deep green eyes, he loses himself in them. Never before has he ever felt
anything close to love – or even lust at first sight – until today. She grabs
the pitcher and then walks away to go refill it. Thoughts run through his head
about this woman, not sure why he is feeling this way.
Brice never knew his mother since she died
during childbirth, and his father ran out on him when he was three. Love was a
foreign concept in his life. He grew up in a children’s home. No one would
adopt him because he was “different”, and everyone could sense it. Then the
night of his first transformation, he ran away. The others at the home had
started picking on him because they were afraid. Since that event, Brice had
been on the road traveling, accepting challenge after challenge to prove his
strength. All the while, trying to find answers as to the being he truly is.
The owner with the captivating green
eyes returns with another pitcher – and without a glass this time – and sets it
down in front of him.
“Would you like anything to eat?”
“Actually yeah, I am pretty hungry. Worked up quite the
appetite tonight, so what would you suggest?”
“Well, if your hunger is anything
like your thirst, I would suggest our colossal burger. Half a pound burger
topped with anything you like; it also comes with steak fries.”
“Sounds good. I’ll have that all the
way. Do you have any chili as well?”
“On a cold night like this, of
course! Best in town,” she says with a proud smile.
“Okay well how about smothering
those fries with it, and lots of cheese.”
“You’ve got it.”
She walks over to the kitchen window
and calls out the order. When she walks back over, she has a smile on her face.
“By the way, my name is Sheila…and
you are?”
“My name is Brice.”
She extends her hand out, and he
shakes it.
“Nice to meet you Brice,” she says
flirtatiously with a smile.
*****
Hours of talking between customers
ends; the bar closes, and Sheila escorts Brice outside. She pulls the hood over
her jacket to block the blistering winds. After locking the door, Sheila turns
to face him, realizing that she isn’t ready to part with him just yet.
“So, are you doing anything tonight
Brice?”
“No, I guess I will be hitting the
road again. I hear there is a Gator problem down south. I thought I would check
into the situation.”
“Would you mind keeping me company
for a while before you go? I always like to wind down a little bit before I
retire for the night.”
“Sure, sounds good to me. What is
there to do this time of night though? Everything is closed, right?”
“Yeah, well, you could come over to
my place for a drink, and maybe talk a little more.”
Brice then catches a scent he hasn’t
smelled in a long time; the hair on his arms starts to tingle as his senses go
on high alert.
“Sheila, you better get outta here.
It isn’t safe.”
“What are you talking about? Nothing
ever happens in this town.”
Just as soon as she finishes her
statement, a large werewolf is standing before them. The beast punches Brice as
hard as he can knock the breath from him. Its fur is a mixture of browns;
muscles are rippling over its shoulders and biceps. The horrendous mouth curled
back over its maw, exposing rows of sharp teeth as it snarls in Sheila’s
direction.
She could barely blink before it snatches
her up and disappears with her into the night. Brice gets back on his feet
coughing. He realizes that the werewolf took his newly acquainted treasure;
this woman he has found himself drawn to without any effort. He also is aware
that her scent is fading fast. He follows the scent trail, shedding his clothes
off as his body slowly goes through that
painful transformation. Bones crack and shift position, forming a new skeletal
structure while his muscles stretch over. Several agonizing moments later,
Brice’s form has changed from that of a man into that of a two hundred-thirty
pound wolf. He sniffs the air to verify the direction of his adversary.
*****
Sheila slowly regains consciousness,
and as she becomes more aware, she realizes that her arms are tied to a chair
in a strange, dilapidated house. The walls around her seem aged with damages
beyond repair. She wriggles around to try and free herself, but the restraints
are too tight. Then she notices the bad smell in the room; it smells like a
wild animal lives there. Then she sees a familiar face. It is one of her
regulars at the bar. Although she noticed he started acting a little odd
lately, she had no idea he would be capable of kidnapping.
“What do you want from me, Chuck?”
The tall, hairy man only wore a pair
of shorts, and as cold as it is, he should be freezing to death. But Chuck
seems unfazed by the temperature. He is hunching over slightly with a little
bit of drool hanging from his mouth.
“The same thing I have been wanting
for a long time, Sheila. You.”
“What are you?” she questions with a
look of disgust.
“I have been through a few changes –
and for the better in my opinion, but there is no need for you to worry about
that right now. You will have plenty of time to find out everything about me.
You’re never leaving me because you’re mine
now.”
Chuck approaches her while
unfastening his pants; tears form in Sheila’s eyes fully aware of what he
intends to do. Just then, a deep growling sound can now be heard over the sound
of her sobs. A large wolf lunges at Chuck, knocking him down to the floor, its
teeth bared. Chuck grabs the intruding wolf by its neck and bares his own teeth
at it. He throws the wolf back against the wall, and when he returns to his
feet, hair sprouts out all over his body; his muscles grow larger while his
face stretches to an elongated snout.
The large wolf roars in defiance towards
Chuck who is now a werewolf again and starts to approach. The intruding wolf
quickly gets back on its four legs and lunges at the enemy, biting at its
ankles. Howls of pain come from the evil werewolf’s maw as the heroic wolf
starts ripping away, tearing the flesh from the other. The evil beast tries to
kick the wolf, but it dodges just in time, leaps on a nearby table, and then
lunges at the throat of the monster – clamping its jaws around the werewolf’s
neck. It bites down one more time extremely hard as it rips through the throat,
and then they both drop to the ground.
The wolf turns to face Sheila and
approaches slowly, careful not to make her feel threatened. The tears in her
eyes show that it’s already too late for that as she stares at Chuck while he
changes back to human form, blood pouring from the gaping hole that used to be
his throat. The wolf moves behind her and gnaws on her ropes until she is able
to break free. She stands up and quickly turns to face the wolf. Her hands are
trembling with the fear of not knowing what is going to happen next. The wolf
lowers his head submissively, then just backs away, leaving the house the same
way he came.
Minutes later, Sheila leaves the
house as well, running as fast as she could back to the bar. Brice watched her
from the tree line while still in his wolf form, making sure that she was able
to make it back safely. He then turns to the woods and starts to run – and
fast. He has always been an outcast and unable to get close to anyone, maybe it
is better this way.
*****
Many months later, Sheila stands
with her hands resting on the rails of a cruise ship. She has not fully
recovered mentally from that night that she hasn’t told anyone about. How could
she tell anyone, especially when it sounded crazy to her?
Her thoughts drift as she stares into the
reflections of people boarding the ship; her co-workers convinced her that she
should get away for a while and that maybe, just maybe, a stress free
environment would help her out. She had always wanted to go to Alaska, so she
booked the first available Alaskan cruise. Her thoughts then wander from travel
arrangements to Chuck and then to the wolf that had saved her. When thinking of
Brice, she wished that she had the chance to get to know him better. It was
like he just vanished off the face of the Earth.
Something catches her eye among the
reflections; a very tall muscular man wearing a Hawaiian shirt. When she looks
up to see the man boarding the ship, she instantly recognizes Brice. As he
walks past her direction, she approaches him, grabbing him by the wrist and
pulling him aside.
“Hey Brice! Do you recognize me?”
He was very surprised to see her again
after all these months. The connection they had, he could still feel the pull of
it. That night though, after he killed the werewolf, he left thinking that
Sheila did not deserve the kind of life that he could give. He has always been
a drifter, traveling from location to location, seeking the ultimate thrill –
and hopefully – his destiny along the way.
“Of course, I do, Sheila.”
“So what happened to you that night?”
“Well, after that thing knocked me out, I
went looking for you. I couldn’t find you, so I went to the police.
And…well…when they found you, I had to leave town.”
“I am grateful to you regardless of what
happened. I have thought of that night every single day – and in my nightmares.
Getting to meet you was the best part of that night.”
He smiles at her kind words as they warm
his heart. He takes a look at her and notices she is dressed rather warmly, and
then his attention turns to everyone on the ship as it leaves the dock.
Everyone has large coats among their luggage, and he can see vendors loading
carts of hot cocoa. It doesn’t take long for him to connect the dots before he
looks at Sheila.
“This isn’t the boat to Hawaii, is it?”
She chuckles at him as she looks at his
bright, vividly colored shirt before she pats him on the chest.
“I’m afraid not. We are currently on our
way to Alaska. Hope you have something warm to wear.”
At that moment, Brice face palms his
forehead as the boat drifts away towards the setting sun.
“I hope this ship has a gift shop with
clothing,” he says.
“Well, if not, I think I can manage
keeping you warm – at least at night – if you’re interested.”
“Oh I am most definitely interested,”
Brice says with a smile.
They both watch the sunset together with
their hands on the railing. It doesn’t take long before Sheila slides her hand
over and places it on his. For the first time ever, Brice feels like he does
not have to go with the lone wolf life anymore. With this woman, he can see a
future and a life with her. So, he smiles happily and places his arm around
her, pulling her close to him.
“So, do you think this will be a happy
vacation together?” she asks.
“Only if the vacation lasts…for the rest
of my life.”
The Zombie.
Have you ever been curious about Zombies? Well, let’s find
some facts about them.
Zombies are considered undead, mindless, reanimated
creatures who devour human flesh. In iZombie, on CW, they behave like normal
except when ravenous. When that happens, they go into a feeding frenzy, leaving
no human safe. The more civilized thinking Zombies, on the same show, prefer living
flesh but settle for the recently deceased brains with a side of noodles — yum.
Do not trifle with Zombies. Depending on the writer/Hollywood,
Zombies can be pale and creepy, or just disgusting in appearance. Some are
flexible. Others move like a stiff board and sport potholes in rotting flesh along
with facial expressions that could stop clocks.
Some are slow, resembling the poisonous Gila monster
tracking prey after biting them. Once the venom renders them helpless, the lizard
can catch up and eat it. Same principle, only the slow moving Zombie gets to
treat. As a result of Hollywood’s need for speed, Zombies now chase prey like
an Olympic sprinter, can climb and bolt up a fence/building/wall with little to
no effort.
There seems no way to fathom what a Zombie can do beyond what
the writer’s imagination creates. A website called Zombiepedia (yes, it exists)
lists eight types of Zombies. Here’s the link if you wish to educate yourself. http://zombie.wikia.com/wiki/Types_of_Zombies
The subject of Zombies
were first recorded, in a history of Brazil, in 1819 by poet Robert Southey.
The modern dictionary’s origin of the word lists West Africa, the Kongo words
nzambi (god) and zambi (fetish). Haitian Folklore is where the ideology of
zombies evolved into the dead brought back by magic, or voodoo, or a bokor
sorcerer — bokor is a witch-like figure. Also mentioned is the word “Nzombe” by
Africans who resettled in Haiti. Modern Zombie creation points, more often than
not, to mutated virus strains. Whatever reanimates a corpse does not matter
because let’s face it — Zombies are gross.
The first mention of zombies was in 1929 by W.B. Seabrook
in “The Magic Island”. It dealt with Haitian voodoo. In the 1968 version of “Night
of the Living Dead”, Zombies were created by a virus. In “Shaun of the Dead”,
Zombies were made fun of to take the “yeck” out of the creatures while in “World
War Z”, they were frenzied killing machines. Guess you could say the Zombie
lore has become “flexible” in its older years.
How the reanimated dead earned the lore behind the title
“Zombie” was unclear. In “The Night of the Living Dead” (1968) zombies were
referenced “ghouls”. The phenomenon of zombies started when the U.S. occupied
Haiti (1915-1934) and cases of purported “zombie-like” people emerged. In the
1920s and early 1930s, American horror author H. P. Lovecraft wrote novelettes
exploring undead themes from different angles. "Cool Air", "In
the Vault", and "The Outsider" all dealt with the undead. The
most definitive "zombie-type" story in Lovecraft's oeuvre was 1921's
Herbert West – “Reanimator”, which "helped define zombies in popular
culture". Richard Matheson's 1954 novel “I Am Legend”, although classified
as a vampire story, nonetheless had a definitive impact on the zombie genre via
George A. Romero.
Did you know a zombie could be saved by feeding them salt?
If an epidemic arises, it is something to consider when trying to save a
friend.
And, believe it or not, there are themes that give rise
to a zombie apocalypse:
(1) Initial contacts with zombies are extremely dangerous
and traumatic, causing shock, panic, disbelief and possibly denial.
(2) The response of authorities to the threat being
slower than its rate of growth, giving the zombie plague enough time to take
hold and collapse our society. So be prepared. Vote for politicians well
informed of possible threats from Zombies.
How can you survive a zombie attack should it become real
and in your face? These five scientists have it figured out. http://metro.co.uk/2015/02/25/5-tips-from-scientists-on-how-to-survive-a-zombie-apocalypse-5078672/
Reference material for article: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zombie
L.M. David has also contributed an article to the ezine
Vision: A Resource for Writers (http://visionforwriters.com)
L.M. David has a blog: http://www.wordpress.com/lmdavid54
and an author’s page on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorLMDavid. She can also
be found on Twitter: https://twitter.com/LMDavid54
Vampire Poems
by
Jodie Pierce
"Monster"
You are alone in the world for all of eternity
For you could never make another like yourself
A monster in all sense of the word
A vile, putrid, blood sucking creature
Who steals the hearts of the innocent
And rips apart the souls of the tortured.
"Ready"
Take me to your lair
And do with me what you will
For I am ready for you
Ready for death or ready to be your Vampire Queen
Take me to my death with your pearly white elongated teeth
Or give me your most beautiful gift of your blood
Either way I am ready for you-take me!
Rand's Story:
Detective Goodson
Part 1
by
Brien O'Raighne
Randall Goodson is my name. I have been alive for over three
hundred thirty years. My name has changed slightly over the years, but not who
I am as a person. I am a homicide detective for SCPD (Storm City Police
Department).
June 3, 2016 Storm
City, Texas...
I currently am sitting in my seat at the Lightning Pad, the
nickname for Remendez Field, home of the Storm City Bolts. My seat is in the
Mezzanine Deck over the left field wall, which is the third deck. I sip my
beer. It's quite bitter. But I have learned to get used to it over time. The
modern beer is much better tasting than beer from medieval England. That's a
tale for another time.
I watch as the Storm City Bolts' first baseman, Hugh Marsters,
comes up to the plate. He is a hulk of a man. Marsters is batting against Lance
McCullers of the Houston Astros. McCullers throws an inside fastball as my
phone vibrates in my pocket.
I take the phone out of my pocket. I see the called ID: SCPD
HILL. Elerby Hill is the Captain of Precinct 3 of the SCPD. My precinct, my
captain. "Great."
"Captain? What can I do for you?"
"Sorry to interrupt you on your day off,
detective." He tells me.
I hear the crack of the bat, the roar of the crowd. I turn
to see the baseball coming right for me. I drop my iPhone 6 as the ball smacks
me in the face. The ball falls into my lap. My phone hits the floor near my
seat.
People converge on me. They see me slump in my chair. I feel
some pain around my right eye. I know that it will swell and heal rather
quickly. I reach for my phone and pick it up.
The usher looks at me. He is signaling for me to follow him.
Fear of my secret being discovered overcomes me. However, I try to make my way
out of the row. I stumble. The usher helps me up the stairs towards the
concourse.
"Goodson? Goodson?" I hear coming from my phone.
Irritated with Captain Hill, I end the call. I will deal with the repercussions
later.
The usher leads me, with the home run ball, out onto the
concourse of the Mezzanine Deck. I take a few steps and stumble hitting the
concrete floor. My knees sting. I am dizzier than I thought.
I put my phone in my pocket. Then, I grab the ball as two
ushers help me to my feet. Each one is holding an elbow. It takes a minute to get
me to my feet. The ushers slowly lead me down the concourse. We are heading to
the first aid station.
I am moaning. My vision in my right eye blurs as we enter
the first aid station. The first aid station is rather cramped. There are two
exam rooms and one waiting room with a desk in it.
The nurse leads me into the room on the right. I notice that
she is a middle aged woman with graying red hair. She is wearing blue scrubs
with a white accent on the sides of the shirt. I take in her scent. It is
rather intoxicating. Strange. No human has ever infected me so. She smells of
lavender, aloe, and lilac. I smile.
"Good to see you smile," the delightful nurse says
to me. She takes out a light and begins looking into my eyes. I start to
salivate. My eyes shift colors and back. The nurse shakes her head. She does
not believe what she just saw.
The nurse examines my eyes again. She has me follow her
finger. She determines that my eyes are fine and I will have a nice shiner for
some time. Just not as long as she thinks.
I feel the thirst starting to increase as she continues to
check me out. The nurse has a small pen light and a tongue depressor in her
hand. She has a smile on her face. "Say, ah."
I refuse to open my mouth. I feel the fangs beginning to
extend. They are starting to cut into my lower lip. This is not good. The nurse
crosses her arms. I know she is going to be persistent.
"Oh, someone is shy." She says with a wry smile on
her face. I shake my head and pout like a child, intentionally. "Don't be
shy. This won't hurt."
You don't know that. I think to myself. I begin to
look around. The room is small and confining. There is no place for me to
move. Great.
I close my eyes. I begin to take a deep breath and exhale.
Not that I really need to. It is just a habit I picked up to calm myself.
I look at the nurse intently. She looks back at me in a
trance-like state.
"Close the door." I say melodically. The nurse
nods. She walks over to the door and closes it. I snap my fingers.
The nurse shakes her head. She crosses her arms. "Being
stubborn, aren't we?"
"No." I tell her in a husky voice. "I am
afraid that I may terrify you if you continue your examination of me."
"Oh?" The nurse says.
"Your stethoscope."
"What about it?"
"Use it here." I tell her patting the area over my
heart.
She is curious. The nurse does as I ask her to do. She
raises a brow. Then, she removes the stethoscope and blows on it. "Can't
be."
"So what did you hear?" I ask the nurse. I know
what she heard. Nothing. I just want to hear her say it.
"N-n-nothing. I would normally hear a person's heart
beat. But with you. Nothing. H-h-how?" The nurse is stunned. She searches
for a plausible explanation. I'm not sure she'd except the explanation, though.
"Simple." I pause to consider how to phrase my
statement. I gulp. Just tell her. "I am a vampire."
I expect the nurse to back away in fear. The nurse does
something totally different. She chuckles.
"That's not possible. Vampires do not exist."
I raise a finger up into the air. "You would be
mistaken on that. Most are not like popular media. Those are really few and far
between. The other 'vampires' are cultists who dress like gothic vampires and
drink blood."
That's when she notices my fangs. She begins to back away. I
smile. "You're a real vampire. The cultists have heart beats. REAL
vampires do not.”
“That’s right. We are the undead, but I am not here to hurt
you. I really just wanted to enjoy the game."
"V-v-vampire." She stammers while pointing at me.
I sigh. I wave my hand in front of her, like a Jedi from
Star Wars. Then, I melodically speak. The nurse becomes entranced. "You
will forget what you know about me. You will tell I'm good to go and have me on
my way."
I snap my fingers again. I shake my head. This went well.
The nurse shakes her head. She looks down at her chart,
which I filled out. She smiles at me. "Well, you check out okay. So just
take care of that shiner. Put some ice on it. You're good to go."
"Thank you, ma'am." I tell her.
I walk out of the first aid station with a smile on my face.
The concourse seems to have thinned out with people since I went in there. I
head back towards my section and look out on the field. The Astros are
celebrating another win. Great. I missed the last four innings of the game.
An usher comes up to me, he pats me on the bag. "You
okay, sir?"
"Yeah, I'll be okay." I tell the usher. "Good
to hear. The game's over, though. So, you'll need to leave the stadium."
"Okay." I tell the usher as he goes white as a
sheet. I sense some one behind me. Some one big. The usher is freaking out.
I turn as the usher continues to say Oh, my GOD multiple
times. I come face to face with Hugh Marsters. My eyes begin to bug out. Never
met a ball player before.
"I was told that the guy I hit with a ball was up
here." he says.
"That would be me." I say.
"Good to meet you." Hugh tells me. He is bigger
than I thought. His brown hair is shaggy. There is something about him that I
can’t quite put my finger on. Something familiar about Hugh Marsters. I swear I
have met this gentleman before. “You seem awfully familiar to me. Have we met
before?”
“Not that I know of.” I tell him. The way he stands. His
voice. The scent on him. I know him from somewhere. But where? When? “I have a
pretty good memory. I’m sure I would remember.”
“Well, I just wanted to check up on you.” He says. We shake
hands. That’s when it hits me. Now I know where I remember him from. “It looks
as though the injury is not anywhere near as serious as I was led to believe.”
I lean into Hugh Marters and whisper to prevent the usher
from hearing what I was saying. “I do remember you, Hugh. You did not have the
last name of Marsters, though.”
He chuckles softly. “Thought so, Randall. You have not
changed much either except that name of yours. Meet me in the players’ lot in
20. We have some catching up to do.”
“Yes we do.”
Who exactly is this Hugh Marsters?
What is his relationship to Rand?
Find out in the next issue for Rand’s Story: Detective
Goodson Part 2…
About the Author, Brien O’Raighne
He is a connoisseur of sci-fi and paranormal films and
books. He, also, lives in Houston with his son.
You can contact him at darknesswithin.boraighne@gmail.com
Both Lindsey Jayne and Ronald Edward Griffin have books that just came out this past June. For Lindsey, pick up her new book Allegra's Song and also get Ronald's Origins.
Stay tuned next month for contests and giveaways!
Both Lindsey Jayne and Ronald Edward Griffin have books that just came out this past June. For Lindsey, pick up her new book Allegra's Song and also get Ronald's Origins.
Stay tuned next month for contests and giveaways!
That's all for now folks! Post a comment if you'd like to contribute to our ezine next month or in the future! Remember to comment and let us know how we did and which stories you liked!
Keep Writing!
Jodie Pierce
