Here's the newest copy of Darkness Within Ezine Vol. 10!!! Starting out, I wasn't sure we'd make it this far, but, alas, I've met so many great Authors who have volunteered their talents and time to make this ezine successful!! So, to you all, thank you! So....here we go!
Index
Jodie Pierce: President & CEO
Lindsey Jayne: Vice-President & Cover Artist
Jessica Sawa: Editor-in-Chief
Articles/Columns:
Village
of Darkness by Thom Futrell
Lore’s Corner: The Easter Bunny by LM David
Dear Hattie by Helen Bishop
The Hybrids-Belle’s Powers Emerge by Brien O’Raighne
The She-wolf of Lake Wildwood: Part 9 by Ronald Edward
Griffin
Dead Love Part 6 by Samuel Southwell
Horror Movies by The Vampire Queen1
The Worm Farm (13 &
14) by Helen Bishop
Arthur O’ The Bower by Ross S. Simon
Detective Goodson: Rand’s Story: The Blood Lords pt 6 by
Brien O’Raighne
2016 All
rights reserved, including the right of reproduction of this ezine in part or
in whole.
VILLAGE OF DARKNESS
TGREAPER
Sundown was approaching. The
town’s people hurried along, scampering to their homes, locking doors behind
them. The darkness came swiftly. No one dared to stay on the streets or venture
out past the hour of doom. It had been like this for as long as the people
could remember. They rarely spoke of it, as if speaking of it was an omen in
itself. They all knew of the horrors their grandparents had lived through to
tell the tales.
Jerry climbed down the steep steps into
his basement, too afraid to even stay upstairs in the comfort of his home. He
didn’t know how those without a basement ever survived. He locked all three
deadbolts on the steel door he had in place. He knew he would be safe until
morning.
Such a strange town it was. Everyone
started work at the same time. Places like the bank and grocery store stayed
open an hour later than everything else so people could get milk or eggs before
going home. Jerry doubted anyone cooked an evening meal. He imagined most
people had a sandwich and chips like he did.
Jerry was half way through his sandwich
when he heard the voice. It was frail and definitely female.
“Please, somebody help me,” she said. It
sounded like she was on the front porch. Saving her would mean going back
upstairs and facing whatever waited in the darkness. As much as he wanted to
stay in his underground safety net, he couldn’t live with himself if he let an
innocent child die on his property.
He climbed the steps silently, the way one
would a ladder, using hands and feet. Once at the top he put his ear to the
door and listened for any kind of sound. Silence met his ears. He unlocked the
door and quietly opened it. Darkness bathed him as he crawled on all fours into
his kitchen. He had large windows in his dining room that overlooked the
neighbor’s yard. He decided to stay low to the floor in case anything was
looking through those windows.
Jerry moved hand over foot down the
hallway, past the dining room and up to the front door. He pressed his ear to
the door and again listened for any kind of sound. He could hear the girl
whimpering.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Are you alone?”
“I think so. People are moving around on
the streets but no one has seen me yet.”
“I’m going to open the door, when I do you
run in here as fast as you can. Do you understand? As fast as you can.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Jerry stood up and quietly unlatched the
door. He did a silent three count and whipped the door open. A twelve-year-old
girl ran inside and he quickly re bolted the door.
“Quickly, follow me.” Jerry ran towards
the basement door, the girl fast on his heels. She ran past him down the stairs
as he stopped and bolted the door. She was standing in the corner when he got
down the steps.
“Thank you for letting me in.” Her voice
was calm, as if she was never in any danger.
“What are those things outside?” Jerry
asked.” I’ve never ventured outside in the dark before.”
“Vampires,” She said. She picked up a hand
mirror that was lying on a table. “From the village next door.”
“Vampires?” Jerry sat down on the steps
and rubbed his chin. “I thought they were just Halloween stories.” He noticed himself
in the mirror, but not the girl. She smiled, ivory razors peeking out from her
mouth.
“No, we’re real,” she said. She ran full
steam at Jerry, who barely jumped off the steps in time. He tried to stand up
and the girl slammed into him, knocking them both into the table. She tried to
bite him and he managed to shove the handle of the mirror into her mouth. She
gnawed at it until it shattered into a bunch of pieces. Jerry managed to get
his foot between them and kicked her off. She spread her arms and slid
gracefully to a stop before charging him again. He grabbed a table leg and held
it up just as she jumped on him. The wood sliced through her heart and out her
back. She sat back and howled. The noise was met with more howls from outside.
Jerry watched in shock as the girl decomposed into ash right in front of him.
More howls outside brought him to his feet, bloody stick in hand.
Jerry Van Helsing looked at the stick and
smiled. He thought his family line was the stuff of imagination. Now he
realized the truth. Time to open for business.
Author Bio:
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. He writes under the name T.G. Reaper.
The Easter Bunny
Ever wonder why we hard boil eggs, color and hide for children to find? Well here is the scoop.
The Easter Bunny (also called
the Easter Rabbit or Easter Hare) is a folkloric
figure and symbol of Easter, depicted as a rabbit bringing Easter eggs.
Originating among German Lutherans, the "Easter Hare" originally
played the role of a judge, evaluating whether children were good or
disobedient in behavior at the start of the season of Eastertide. The Easter
Bunny is sometimes depicted with clothes. In legend, the creature carries
colored eggs in his basket, candy, and, at times, toys to the homes of
children, and as such shows similarities to Santa Claus or the Christ kind, as
they both bring gifts to children on the night before their respective holidays.
The custom was first mentioned in Georg Franck von Franckenau's De ovis
paschalibus (About Easter Eggs) in 1682 referring to a German tradition of
an Easter Hare bringing Easter eggs for the children.
The hare was a popular motif in medieval church art.
In ancient times, it was widely believed (as by Pliny, Plutarch, Philostratus,
and Aelian) that the hare was a hermaphrodite. The idea that a hare could
reproduce without loss of virginity led to an association with the Virgin Mary,
with hares sometimes occurring in illuminated manuscripts and Northern European
paintings of the Virgin and Christ Child. Eggs, like rabbits and hares, are
fertility symbols of antiquity. Since birds lay eggs and rabbits and hares give
birth to large litters in the early spring, these became symbols of the rising
fertility of the earth at the Vernal Equinox.
As for coloring, or decorating, Easter eggs, the
Orthodox churches have a custom of abstaining from eggs during the fast of
Lent. The only way to keep them from being wasted was to boil or roast them,
and begin eating them to break the fast. As a special dish, they would probably
have been decorated as part of the celebrations. Later, German Protestants
retained the custom of eating colored eggs for Easter, though they did not
continue the tradition of fasting. Eggs boiled with some flowers change their
color, bringing the spring into the homes, and some over time added the custom
of decorating the eggs. Many Christians of the Eastern Orthodox Church to this
day typically dye their Easter eggs red, the color of blood, in recognition of
the blood of the sacrificed Christ (and, of the renewal of life in springtime).
Some also use the color green, in honor of the new foliage emerging after the
long-dead time of winter. The Ukrainian art of decorating eggs for Easter,
known as pysanky, dates to ancient, pre-Christian times. Similar
variants of this form of artwork are seen amongst other eastern European
culture.
The idea of an egg-giving hare came to the U.S. in the
18th century. Protestant German immigrants in the Pennsylvania Dutch area told
their children about the "Osterhase"
(sometimes spelled "Oschter Haws”). Hase means
"hare", not rabbit, and in Northwest European folklore the
"Easter Bunny" indeed is a hare. According to the legend, only good
children received gifts of colored eggs in the nests that they made in their
caps and bonnets before Easter.
It was a tradition in our family to dress up. Girls
got new dresses and a hat that looked like sunny side up eggs. I recall trying
to make a Frisbee out of mine and often heard ringing in my ears from getting
backhanded when the hat landed on a neighbor’s roof. And the sad part, I never
learned not to fling the hat on Easter nor understood why it seemed attracted
to rooftops. Silly me.
Reference: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Easter_Bunny
Author Bio:
LM
David has been writing stories since Jr. High School after taking a Creative
Writing class. Initially drawn to the genre of Science Fiction, a fascination
with Paranormal/Urban Fantasy/Romance drew her back into the dark erotic world
of vampires. The more she read about the subject of the ‘undead’, the deeper
dark erotic world of folklore and legends of the vampire became. You can reach
her at:
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/authorLMDavid
Twitter:
@LMDavid54
Author.
Dear Hattie
by Helen Bishop
Dear
Hattie:
I really like this guy at my work, he's the all-American boy and likes JFK, there's only two problems I see-he seems to like girls with long hair and his Volkswagen has the passenger seat missing.Is this too much to overcome?
I saw him out at the lake last weekend, and it seemed like he had an injury, his arm was in a sling, but he found a girl, with long hair of course to help him. Have I missed my chance with Ted?
Worried in Washington
Dear Worried:
If it was meant to happen it will, I don’t like the car with no seat though. If you can make yourself available without being too obvious keep trying, but who knows if he’ll stay around long enough for you to grow your hair out. All American boys aren’t a dime a dozen, but if you can catch a sale they are buy one get one free.
I really like this guy at my work, he's the all-American boy and likes JFK, there's only two problems I see-he seems to like girls with long hair and his Volkswagen has the passenger seat missing.Is this too much to overcome?
I saw him out at the lake last weekend, and it seemed like he had an injury, his arm was in a sling, but he found a girl, with long hair of course to help him. Have I missed my chance with Ted?
Worried in Washington
Dear Worried:
If it was meant to happen it will, I don’t like the car with no seat though. If you can make yourself available without being too obvious keep trying, but who knows if he’ll stay around long enough for you to grow your hair out. All American boys aren’t a dime a dozen, but if you can catch a sale they are buy one get one free.
Dear Hattie:
I met this guy at a party in the catacombs, he was arrogant and insensitive, just my kind of guy. We danced, we partied, he tried to ignore me. I know he did that just to keep up appearances. He flirts all the time even though he's married, but I truly thought we had something special. He went out the other evening for a special bottle of wine, amontillado, I think he said... It’s been five days now, and no one in town seems to have seen him. Should I sound the alarm, or accept that he's just finished with me?
Hanging in Chains
Dear in Chains:
Face it, girl, the guy played you and apparently his wife...maybe he's holed up somewhere with that wine. Maybe he got so far into his cups that he ran out of time and couldn't get out...either way you're probably better off. Forget him, he's apparently forgotten you.
I met this guy at a party in the catacombs, he was arrogant and insensitive, just my kind of guy. We danced, we partied, he tried to ignore me. I know he did that just to keep up appearances. He flirts all the time even though he's married, but I truly thought we had something special. He went out the other evening for a special bottle of wine, amontillado, I think he said... It’s been five days now, and no one in town seems to have seen him. Should I sound the alarm, or accept that he's just finished with me?
Hanging in Chains
Dear in Chains:
Face it, girl, the guy played you and apparently his wife...maybe he's holed up somewhere with that wine. Maybe he got so far into his cups that he ran out of time and couldn't get out...either way you're probably better off. Forget him, he's apparently forgotten you.
Dear Hattie:
Sometimes I hate being a woman, my husband and almost all the other men in our party dismiss all my and the other wives' concerns, because they are men and know best. It's late in the year to go to California, even with this new short-cut the men are shoving down our throats, and that's another thing...what happens if we go over-long? What if we run low on food? And I don't think the wagon-master's comments about how tasty a morsel I am are appropriate... Not a Morsel
Dear Morsel:
I actually think you may be proven right in the end, although of course, no one will acknowledge that you were right. Also, I think you may want to avoid the wagon-master, if you're anyone's tasty morsel it shouldn't be his.
Dear Hattie:
Why are the poor so testy? The rich aren't, and we have so much more going on than they do. The parties, the fashions, a new perfume, the peerage, they have no idea. The poor worry about food, and that's all. And all they do is complain, and now I'm in trouble because I said they should eat cake? I think sometime that they are losing their minds.
Rich is Better
Dear Better:
I can see that you truly are clueless about why some people are upset, after all you have never had to look for your own food, if you had to do that you might understand. I've heard that if you aren't using something that perhaps you should try to do without. You probably can't understand that, as you aren't using your head.
Sometimes I hate being a woman, my husband and almost all the other men in our party dismiss all my and the other wives' concerns, because they are men and know best. It's late in the year to go to California, even with this new short-cut the men are shoving down our throats, and that's another thing...what happens if we go over-long? What if we run low on food? And I don't think the wagon-master's comments about how tasty a morsel I am are appropriate... Not a Morsel
Dear Morsel:
I actually think you may be proven right in the end, although of course, no one will acknowledge that you were right. Also, I think you may want to avoid the wagon-master, if you're anyone's tasty morsel it shouldn't be his.
Dear Hattie:
Why are the poor so testy? The rich aren't, and we have so much more going on than they do. The parties, the fashions, a new perfume, the peerage, they have no idea. The poor worry about food, and that's all. And all they do is complain, and now I'm in trouble because I said they should eat cake? I think sometime that they are losing their minds.
Rich is Better
Dear Better:
I can see that you truly are clueless about why some people are upset, after all you have never had to look for your own food, if you had to do that you might understand. I've heard that if you aren't using something that perhaps you should try to do without. You probably can't understand that, as you aren't using your head.
Author Bio:
Helen Bishop is a native of Pennsylvania and a
true fan of the written word. She works as a litigation paralegal; reads on
average 20 books a week; writes book reviews for an internet blog; writes
stories, poems and novels in various genres; and-just to fill out her dance
card-contracts with fellow authors to proofread and copy-edit their work before
it goes to the publisher. You can check her out at
thttps://www.facebook.com/HelenBishopAuthor?ref=bookmarks, and
thttps://www.facebook.com/HelenBishopAuthor?ref=bookmarks, and
https://www.writerreadr.wordpress.com
Junipercreek Mall * Storm City, Texas
Belle, a young blonde headed woman, drives her car down to the local mall. She wears a pink sweater over white pants with a red leather jacket over top. She is meeting her friends Olivia, Tina, and Laquiesha.
She finds a parking spot and turns in. Her cell rings as she turns off the engine. She pics up the phone and sees the caller ID: JEAN-LUC.
Belle answers the phone. "Hey, Jean-Luc, what's up?"
"I was wondering if you are free tonight."
"Sorry. It's Greg's birthday party tonight. Mom and dad want me there." Belle gets out of her car and shuts the door.
"That's okay, baby." She hears. "Maybe tomorrow."
"Have to check with mom and dad, but I see no problems." She says locking the car. "Love ya."
"Love ya, too."
She heads towards the closest mall entrance. "Gotta go. Meeting the girls."
"All right, baby. Talk to you later." Jean-Luc says as Belle enters Junipercreek Mall. She looks around.
Then, she sighs. "I think they said to meet them at the food court." Belle turns and heads left towards the closest escalator.
A shadowy figure watches as Belle ascends up the escalator. He keeps a tab on her. He taps his watch. "She's here."
"Good keep an eye on her."
"Yes, sir."
The man exits the shadows. He straightens his jacket and makes his way over to the same set of escalators that Belle is exiting onto the second floor.
"Where are you going, Ms. Phoenix?" The man mutters.
Belle turns her head. She raises a brow. There are several people walking the same direction as she. Belle shrugs her shoulders.
Belle closes in on the food court. She sees her good friend, Laquiesha, waving her over. "Good. They're here."
The man heads towards the other side of the mall, since the foyer on the first floor splits the food court from the rest of the mall. He keeps an eye on Belle.
He watches as Belle sits down with her friends. Belle looks back and forth. Olivia, Belle's dark haired friend with a white thin sweater on over a light blue dress, hands Belle the food she ordered.
"What's wrong, Belle?" Tina asks. She is wearing her brunette curly locks in a ponytail as well as a dark blue top over jeans. Her black leather jacket sits upon the back of her chair.
"Not sure." Belle says as she crunches on a French fry. "Something's not right. I feel like I am being watched."
"Ah, don't worry about that. We are all being watched. All the time by the Lord Almighty." Olivia says.
Belle rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Then, she sips her Diet Coke. "That's not what I am talking about."
"Then, what do you mean, B?" Olivia asks.
"I think someone's following me."
"Now, why would they do that?"
"I don't know." Belle says. She, then, grabs her head. Pain shoots through her head like fire. Belle falls out of her seat onto the ground.
Tina jumps out of her seat and rushes over to Belle. "Belle, hon? You okay?"
"No." Belle barely says. She grits her teeth as the fire in her brain seems to increase. She, then, screams into the air.
A wave of energy releases from Belle. Her friends and the surrounding people fly back ten feet from her. Belle is huffing and puffing. People begin looking over in her direction. Belle looks around her. Her emerald green eyes are bloodshot. Her golden locks are disheveled. She rises to her feet.
Then, she sees four armed men, in grey uniforms trimmed in black with black ball caps and shades, heading towards her. Olivia, Tina, and Laquiesha rush over to her side. Belle is still breathing heavy.
The leader of the armed men signals for his men to stop as others in the food court rush away from the scene. The armed men hold their rifles up and aimed at Belle. The leader walks up to the four girls. They see red hair coming from underneath his ball cap.
"What the hell do you want?" Screams Tina. Her eyes glow.
The man still comes forward. "Ms. Jones, your powers do not scare me." He turns towards Belle. "Ms. Phoenix, you need to come with me."
"I ain't going nowhere with you." Belle's eyes glow and flash. She still is huffing and puffing. "I suggest you leave me and my friends alone."
The man laughs. "Please. You cannot control your new powers, Belle. I know more about them than you do."
"You think so? Huh?" Belle looks cross at him. She has a wry grin on her face. "Do you have any idea who my momma is?"
"Never had the pleasure of meeting her." The man says. He holds out his hand. "The name's Adolphus Kane, PsyCorp."
"PsyCorp? What the hell does PsyCorp want with me, Mr. Kane?"
"You are important to us." Adolphus says calmly. "We wish to help you control your powers as quickly as possible."
"Then, why follow me?"
"Huh?"
"Follow you? That's not us."
"Then, who is that man over there?" She points across the mall at the dark haired man looking right at her.
Adolphus chuckles. "That is Len Wright, a Metapol Agent."
"Really?" Belle raises a brow. "Oh, daddy's going to get it when I get back home."
"Be careful, Ms. Phoenix. We will be monitoring you."
Belle chuckles. "You ain't the only one. I'm going to finish shopping and, then, go home. You can go, Mr. Kane. I'll be fine."
"We'll be in touch." Adolphus signals for his men to retreat.
"I bet you will." Belle breathes a sigh of relief as Adolphus and his men leave.
Belle and the others sit back down. Laquiesha looks across the table and grabs Belle's hands. "Don't be so hard on your dad. He's only looking out for you."
"I know. That doesn't make what he did right."
"No, B." Olivia says. "It does not."
Author Bio:
He is a
connoisseur of sci-fi and paranormal films and books. He, also, lives in
Houston with his son.
https://www.facebook.com/groups/DRBStreetTeam/
The She-wolf of Lake Wildwood
Part 9
Tabetha
wakes up screaming from another nightmare filled with monsters, blood, and
guts. Her mouth is parched from drinking earlier on in the evening so she gets
out of bed and walks into the kitchen for a glass of water. After taking one of
the glasses from the cupboard she opens the refrigerator and holds the glass
underneath the filtered water dispenser until the glass is full. Then she closes
the door and takes a long sip of water before looking at the clock noticing
that it’s 5 am. She walks into the living room expecting to find her roommates
passed out in the living room but they are nowhere to be found.
“That’s
weird they don’t ever sleep in their bedrooms.” She says.
She
knocks on one of their bedroom doors and no one answers so she opens it
slightly. After a brief peer inside the door she can already tell that no one
is in the room. Then she checks the other bedroom and no one is there either.
She begins to worry so she hurries to her room to get dressed. Once dressed she
grabs her jacket and walks towards the front door, but before she can touch the
doorknob headlights shine through the windows along with the amber and sapphire
glow coming from the police siren as the loud sound wails through the air.
“Oh no
what am I going to do?”
She
rushes out the back door hearing the police deputies knocking on the front
door. She can also hear the footsteps of a few others walking around the house
to try and cut her off from the back. Maybe
if I get outside fast enough I will lose them in the woods. Once she gets
outside a few yards she trips over the detective that questioned her’s corpse.
She screams out seeing the badly mutilated body and covers her mouth realizing
she alerted the deputies to where she is. She stands back up and runs as fast
as she can into the woods.
Next door at
Kurts’ house
Kurt
wakes from a dead sleep startled from the sound of the police sirens. He feels
the bed beside him for Diane but she isn’t there. He looks at the nightstand to
see it’s still early and knows that she isn’t due into work until around lunch
time. He gets out of bed and opens the bedroom door just as his wife is trying
to enter. He jumps from surprise not expecting her.
“Sheesh
Diane please don’t do that.” He says.
She
holds her hand over her chest since he caught her by surprise as well.
“Do
what? It’s a good thing I got up and went to the bathroom or I would have just
wet myself just then.” She says.
“Didn’t
you hear the sirens?” he asked.
“Yeah I
heard them while I was in the bathroom. What do you think’s going on?”
“I don’t
know.” Kurt responds.
They
both walk into the kitchen and look out the window seeing three police cruisers
blocking the drive way next door and several police deputies surrounding the
house. Diane hops onto the counter and watches the police search the property.
Kurt shakes his head as he watches with her.
“Man
they must really have something on her for so many of them here.”
Two more
police cruisers pull up behind the other three cars.
“Holy…”
Kurt is
interrupted by a knock on the door which causes them both to jump.
He walks
to the front door and opens it. The deputy stands there and tips his hat in
greeting.
“I’m
sorry to bother you folks so early this morning, but we were wondering if you
may have seen Greer from next door?”
“I think
she left with her roommates earlier in a cab, but we haven’t seen her since
no.” Kurt says.
“Actually
honey, after you laid down for bed she came back home. A cab dropped her off
while I was doing the dishes.” Diane adds.
The
deputy turns his attention to Diane.
“Do you
know if she came home with her roommates or was she alone?”
“She
came home alone.” Diane says.
“Thank
you for the information. I would suggest you call 911 if you see her. We
believe her to be very dangerous.” The deputy says.
“What
did she do?” Kurt asks.
At that
moment one of the other deputies comes over.
“We
found detective Johnson’s body in the girls back yard.” He says.
The
senior deputy lowers his head before shaking it.
“Thank
you for talking about unnecessary police matters in front of civilians. Go make
yourself useful and call the coroner.”
The
other deputy blushes before rushing to the police cruisers. The senior deputy
turns his attention back to Kurt and Diane.
“I am
sorry for that folks. I’m not supposed to talk about the case but we suspect
she may be responsible for several murders that have happened recently. Say you
folks haven’t noticed her having a dog around have you?”
“No we
haven’t seen one why do you ask?” Kurt says.
“Well
it’s the darndest thing. There seems to be a pattern to the murder victims, but
their bodies are extremely mutilated. As if she used a large dog as the murder
weapon. Either way if you see her or any large dogs you’re not familiar with
give us a call.”
“We will
make sure to do just that sir.” Diane says with a smile.
The
deputy walks away and Kurt closes the door behind him.
“Wow,
who would have ever thought that little girl could be dangerous?” Kurt says.
“I told
you that girl was nothing but trouble.”
“Yeah
honey. That you did.” Kurt says.
“Well I
think we need to get back to bed before the boys wake up honey.” Diane says
with a seductive look. “Oh by the way the boys are going to a youth concert
with the youth group. So we should have a few hours to ourselves tonight before
the church bus brings them back.”
“That
sounds good to me.” Kurt says with a smile before kissing her. “by the way did
I mention how much I love you?”
“Hmmmm…no
but I can think of a way you can show me.” She says while biting her lower lip.
She
takes him by the hand and leads him into the bedroom locking the door behind
them.
To be continued…
Author Bio:
Ronald Edward Griffin is a native of Macon, GA where he
was born and raised. He is an accomplished Author in his own right and is
always working hard on something. He has two children whom he hopes to pass his
writing bug on to them.
DEAD LOVE
BY
SAMUEL D SOUTHWELL
PART 6
1
Mike awoke, his head throbbing. He opened his eyes but
he could not see. The blackness in front of him turned to a slight brightness,
like he was coming out of a tunnel. He tried to move but it was no use his hands
and feet were bound. “Hello?” No answer.
He sat and listened carefully. He heard a low moaning
coming from somewhere but he was not sure from which direction. He turned his
head slowly to the right and then back to the left trying to pinpoint where the
moan was coming from. “Hello?” again no answer.
He pulled on his binds harder. Nothing. He was tied
tight. He couldn’t move an inch. He blinked his eyes trying to clear his
vision. Again it was no use all he saw was different colors of light. Is this
how it ends?
2
Sam watched his mother as she passed back and forth
over the body of Mike. He had dropped to his knees suddenly and passed out.
This man was so nice to Sam unlike his dad who was always so mean. “Wake up
Mike.”
3
The low moan reached Mike’s ears again. This time he
was sure it was coming from his left. It sounded like a small child crying.
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
The moaning turned into a small whimper.
Mike listened intently. “You can hear me can’t you?”
No answer but the noise stopped. “If you can hear me? Please say something.”
“Please?” A small voice pleaded.
Mike realized he knew that voice.
4
The others gathered around Mike’s body as a tear fell
from his closed eye. Then his body began to shake violently.
5
Mike pulled at his bonds as hard as he could. Shaking
his body. Shifting from left to right. Willing himself to break free. Finally,
after what seemed like hours, his left hand broke free. Then he reached up and
pulled off the blind fold. He blinked his eyes, clearing away the darkness as
he pulled the rest of his limbs free.
As his vision cleared the shapes in front of him
became clear.
Oh my god!!!!!!!!!
Oh my god!!!!!!!!!
6
Mike shot up screaming so loudly that Emily and Sam
went running to the other side of the room. When he stopped he was covered in
sweat as he fell backward breathing heavy.
Heather was staring at him with tears in her eyes. He
glanced up at her and Sam who was hiding behind her. He wiped his face with his
hands. “What happened?”
Steve held out his hand to Mike and Mike took it. Mike
stood up on uneasy legs. “You just dropped and passed out. We all thought you
were gone.”
Mike put his hand on Steve’s shoulder steadying
himself. “What a nightmare!”
“Tell me about it?” Steve helped Mike over to a box
and let him sit down as the others came over to him. Heather took his hand as
Sam cautiously wrapped himself around his leg.
Mike told them about his nightmare as the world began
to collapse around them.
Author
Bio:
Samuel
holds a degree in English Literature from the University of South Florida and
has been published a dozen or so times. He published his first book “Twisted
American Fairy Tales” on Lulu.com and it is still available there today. He
currently lives in Florida where he cuts up dead bodies for a grocery chain and
spends his free time writing and collecting books.
Horror Movies
So, I looked online for the
best horror movies in the past 10 years and came up with only a few well known
movies. So, I extended it to the last 20 years. I came up with a few more in
the early to mid-2000’s. So the question is…where are all the horror movie
makers in the past 5 years? Wes Craven is still making movies but not at the
rate he was. Here’s a list I’ve accumulated with some help (in no particular
order):
1. Paranormal
Activity (2007)
2. The
Conjuring (2013)
3. Scream
(1996)
4. The
Cabin in the Woods (2012)
5. Silence
of the Lambs (2001)
6. The
Blair Witch Project (1999)
7. The
Descent (2005)
8. Shaun
of the Dead (2004)
9. Se7en
(1995)
1 The
Stranger (2008)
The next list I found was
much better:
1. Saw-all
(starting 2004)
2. Final
Destination (2000)
3. I
Know What You Did Last Summer (1997)
4. Hostel
(2005)
5. The
Ring (2002)
6. Let
the Right Ones In (2008)
7. Wishmaster
(1997)
8. The
Devil’s Advocate (1997)
9. Texas
Chainsaw Massacre (1974)
1 Amityville
Horror (1979, 1982, 1983, 2005, 2012, 2016)
All per www.imdb.com
Here are a few of my
favorites:
1. Skeleton
Key (2005)
2. Nightmare
on Elm Street (1980-1990’s)
3. Halloween
(1970-2000’s)
4. 1408
(2007)
Then there are the classics:
1. The
Shining (1980)
2. Psycho
(1960)
3. The
Exorcist (1973)
4. Nosferatu
(1922)
5. Rosemary’s
baby (1968)
6. Carrie
(1976)
7. Frankenstein
(1931)
There’s all these great
‘older’ movies that we’ve all come to love but where is the future of horror
movies going? Most on the lists I’ve never heard of or the lists were short. We
need more current day horror movies. Who will be the next Wes Craven? We’ll be
anxiously waiting!!!
Author Bio:
The
Vampire Queen1 aka Jodie Pierce has been writing since Jr. High School but was
unsatisfied with her teenage romance stories. One day, a friend handed her an
Anne Rice book and she found her inspiration. She’s been writing about vampires
ever since.
The Worm Farm
by Helen Bishop
(Chapters 13 & 14):
by Helen Bishop
(Chapters 13 & 14):
13
Later on that same week, I
drove the golf cart down to the wide part of the river to see if I could snag a
few minnows and dip some loam for the worms. The worms had been good little
workers, they deserved a treat. Even though Jerry was blubbery and fat, I can't
imagine a long-time drinker would taste too good. Maybe he was like the rum
cake they sell at Christmas, or maybe the worms had a Jerry party, I don't
know.
I needed a little time away,
so I put the honor system sign up, and went on down to the river.
I pulled right onto the edge
of the river, right around this little outcropping of weeds and scruff. I
wasn't hiding so much as I just didn't want to be bothered while I dragged the
hook for minnows.
I snagged 6 or 8 of them and
put them in my bucket, scooping some loam to put over them. Then I sat on the
bank with my feet in the water and kind of zoned out. It was shady and a little
breezy and I'd had an okay time lately. That was the best part of living on my
own, with my own rules and my own time. There were always chores to be done, of
course, but afterwards, my time belonged to me.
I must have nodded off
because I never knew they were there until I heard the whimpers. I looked
around for the animal that was making the noise, but stayed in my hiding place
so as not to scare it.
There were two of them, and
only one was an animal. A teenaged boy was pinching a little girl. She was
crying and trying to get away. The boy said, "Shut up Sara! Mom told me to
play with you, so we'll play!" The little girl tried to move away, but he
held on tightly to her arm. "Bobby! You're hurting me! Stop it, stop it,
I'll tell!" The boy pinched her
hard then, and pushed the little one into the water. She floundered and before
I could decide whether to make my presence known, the boy reached into the
water and hauled her back out.
He pulled her near to him and
pinched her really hard, all the while leaning away so she couldn't smack his
hand away. The little girl started to
cry, she was soaked and trembling. "Bobby, I wanna go home now. I'm
cold." "Home", she shouted, "home? We haven't had any
playtime yet!" "But, Bobby, I'm wet, wet and cold. I wanna.."
"Shut the hell up, baby! Your clothes are wet? Let's take 'em off
then!" Bobby grabbed the girl and held her down in the mud on the bank and
started wrestling her shorts off. The little one was fighting and shrieking. I
had made some plans in my head about how to fix Bobby, but I didn't want his
sister to get hurt, so I stood up and cleared my throat.
"Hey! Are you guys all
right?" I asked, "I was fishing farther down and heard a big splash.
Did someone fall in?" Bobby stopped dead, like he had been electrocuted,
an experience I could offer him later, actually, and said, "yeah mister,
my sister fell in. I was just trying to warm her up."
"Aren't you guys Brian
Drums' kids?" I asked, "Bobby and um, Sara?" The kids nodded.
"Well your sister looks pretty uncomfortable. What say I run you two home?
I have my golf-cart. Just get your stuff together while I drive up to the
landing and turn around and then come on up and I'll take you both home."
As I turned away I heard him
tell her to "Keep your lying mouth shut about this, or I'll get you later.
Mom leaves us alone a lot, you know."
On the way to town I tried to
talk with the boy, but he was not interested in me, he grumbled a lot about my
smelly cart, and how people should just leave him alone. I looked around, then
stopped the golf-cart along the lane. "Hey boy, " I said, "You
got something to say? If you're too good to ride in a golf-cart, just get off,
I'll take your sister home. You can walk it."
"You can't take her
alone! No one is home, she'll be scared being alone." "Is that right?
She looked pretty scared alone with you. I can fix that, though.” I took out my trusty cell and rang Dan at the
Sheriff's office. "Hi Dan, " I said, "it's Charlie. Yeah, I'm
fine. Say, I found two wet kids up at the river and I offered to take them back
to town, but the boy is too good to ride with me, or so he says. What's that?
Wait a minute., that's right-Bobby and Sara. Okay, hang on a second." I turned to the boy, "The deputy wants
to talk to you." I put the phone on speaker before I passed it over to
him.
"Bobby, what's going on?
Why don't you want to ride back with Charlie?" Bobby's face was brick-red,
and he was clenching his teeth tight in his rage. "Deputy, I can take care
of my sister, I don't need his help!" "Bobby, just ride with Charlie
and I'll ride out to meet you and take you two to your mom, it'll be okay,
Charlie's a good friend of mine." Bobby looked like he was going to spit.
"Okay, Deputy." I got off the golf-cart and looked under the back
fender. I popped my head up and motioned to the boy. He really didn't want to
come, but his anger pushed him. I held his shoulder and pushed like I was
showing him something underneath. "Kid," I hissed at him, "want
me to tell Dan what you were trying to do to your sister?" "I wasn't
doing nothing! She likes it anyway! You don't know nothing, you're just a
retard. I know, they talk about you at school, how stupid you are, living out
here all alone. Freak!" I stayed calm, and said, "So you do want me
to tell?" He shook his head no. Hmmm.
Bobby jumped back into the
back of the cart and I got back behind the wheel. I told the girl we were
meeting the Sheriff's deputy halfway and he would take her to meet her mother.
Sara looked less terrified at that, and relaxed a bit in the seat. The rest of the ride was uneventful, until we
saw the Sheriff's car coming up the track. I went around and helped Sara out of
the cart, Dan coming to her with towels. While Dan took her to his car, Bobby
pushed at me. "Freak!" he whispered, "I'll fix you for this,
she's my sister, and I'll do what I want. You can't stop me. No one can."
Oh really?
Dan came and Bobby took a
towel and jumped into the car. Dan asked what was up with the boy, and I said,
"I don't know Dan, I was resting on the bank and dipping minnows. I never
would have noticed if the boy hadn't shouted at the little girl and then I
watched him push her into the water. He seemed really pleased with himself when
she started crying. I hope me deciding to rescue her and bring them back won't
be a problem." Dan said, "I'm sure it won't, I'll say something to
their mother for as much good as it'll do, the kid’s been in trouble at school
too, he's a bit of a bully, takes after
his dad." "His Dad is a bully too? "Not any more, I guess. I'd
like to think there's a special place in Hell for people like him." Dan and I shook hands, like always, and I
turned to leave.
"Charlie?" Dan
called. I turned back, "Yeah?" Fishing this weekend? I've got a favor
to ask." "What is it?" "No, not now, we'll talk later, let
me get these kids home."
14
A couple of days after that,
I came out early in the morning, as usual and saw the door open and swinging on
the Honor shed. I wasn't too worried, I never left much out there, enough for
folks to make change is all, but I loped over there to check it out.
The whole inside of the place
was ripped up! The refrigerator where I kept my worms was broken up and the
shelves were all over and bent, like someone had tried to break them by kicking
through them. Dead and dying worms littered the floor and squished ones were
pressed into the walls. Someone had taken a marker and written Faggot and
Retard on almost every available surface. My cash box had been slammed against
the doorframe, cracking it and bending the lid of the box in. The money was
gone, too, and it made me angry, but the rest of it was just terrible for me.
It took me back to before, when I couldn't have anything. And anything I had
wasn't really mine. I got out of there
and called the Sheriff. I had to leave a message, but my voice must have
worried the dispatcher. Dan called back less than 10 minutes later.
I told him about everything
that I'd found and he said he'd be out directly and not to clean up. He said
we'd clean up later. So to keep myself out of the Honor shed, I mixed up some
kibble for the worms and fed and watered them. Then I swept around the outside
of their pen, throwing the leaf debris into the worms. "If I ever find out who did this, "
I promised them, "I will give him right to you guys. They deserve it,
after what they've done to the shed and your brothers." Then I went back.
"I will give them to you, but first ...
Dan pulled up in the
Sheriff's van, the one he used to transport prisoners, and he and his friend
Thomas got out. Dan went right over to
the building and took a few pictures of the destruction.
He had a ruler to place near
things for the pictures and Thomas drew a sketch to show all the broken
bits. Then Dan went back to the van, put
the camera and pad away and went to the back of the van. “Charlie? Come over
and help, please." I went over and looked at what he had brought. There
was a new to me used refrigerator, a rickety bookcase with drawers in the
bottom, and a sturdy cash box, along with several boards and tools.
"I figure we can put it
back together in a shake and restock it, so you don't lose any more
income," he said. "And Charlie, you might want to seriously think
about a camera or alarm system to protect your investment. The worms are great
but they aren't like a dog." I started my little shiver, "I know dogs
are out, but I worry about you. These guys could come right down and break into
your house next!" I nodded, and
asked him if he could arrange something. "That's why I brought Thomas,"
Dan said. "He does security in town and said he would help out."
"Thanks, Thomas," I said.
Thomas nodded, "No problem at all."
So we spent an hour cleaning
out the dead worms and everything else, and washing the worm goo off the walls.
Dan and Thomas moved in the refrigerator and I plugged it in and moved the
shelves. I went and got more cups and dipped new worms to restock. I went into
the house and got change for the money box. I put extra cups and lids in the
drawers of the bookcase and Thomas and Dan figured out the security cameras.
They hung one above the door of my house, pointed at the driveway and the back
of the worm shed, they hung another on the worm shed focusing across the beds,
and Thomas put this really neat camera, he called it a pinprick, in the worm
shed and focused it on the refrigerator and the money box. They were all
accessible by a monitor in my house and by laptop. Dan said if I wanted he
could remotely access them by computer from the Sheriff's office. "Let's
wait on that, Dan," I said, "Sometimes I do stupid stuff out here,
its bad enough being stupid when I'm alone, don't need an audience." Dan
laughed, then he talked to Thomas. "Could we set up a security transfer
for emergencies? Like if Charlie is in danger, he could press a button and the
feed would come to me?" Thomas said that was easy, and set it up. I knew
I'd have to be more careful with my guests but if something happened to me, at
least the Sheriff would know who to talk to. We ran through the instructions
and did some tests and Thomas said we were good to go.
Later that evening, after Dan
and Thomas had gone, I was feeding and watering the worms when I heard voices.
Two boys rode up on bikes. I stepped behind the shed to see what happened.
"Well, they cleaned the
place up really fast," said the first boy, "I guess they didn't
figure we'd be back." "I told you, the guy is a retard. Trusting and
stupid, just looking to get robbed. I owe him from the other day. I owe him a
beating, or worse. I wanted to play with Sara, but that guy’s almost the same
as a kid. I'll settle for him, and who can he tell? It's perfect." The second boy got pale and responded,
"What? You wanna have sex with this guy? You wanted to have sex with Sara?
You are sick. I always thought you were strange, but you're sick! I'm outta
here!"
The boy got on his bike and
pedaled quickly towards town. Bobby went outside the worm shed and looked
around, then ducked back inside and took some worms out of the refrigerator and
smashed them on the counter. I tapped on the wall of the shed and Bobby stopped
suddenly. He stuck his head outside and scanned the area and seeing nothing
went back into the shed. He began to pull the things out of the drawers and
smashed them on the floor, jumping up and down on the cups to break them. I
tapped on the wall again. Bobby stopped and peeked outside again. I tapped, and
he came all the way out and around the shed. "You!" he shouted,
"You asshole! Now you'll see what happens!" and he lunged out and
cracked me one on the jaw. It really surprised me, and I went down. I fell
right out of camera range, but Bobby was upright and still on the tape.
He started kicking at me on
camera, then threw himself on me and was punching. I faked passing out, and he
stopped hitting me. He rolled off of me, stood up and started pulling my body
towards the woods. I tried to be heavier and slow him down as he pulled in and
out of camera range. This would be interesting later on for Dan. As we made the
edge of the woods and he pulled me inside, I was lying on my stomach with my
fists clenched beneath. "Now I'll get what you wouldn't let me get from
Sara, from you. I'm going to enjoy this, you jerk. I always like it better when
they scream." He turned me over and went for my belt. I went for his head.
I rolled him over and made sure we were out of camera range, then got up and
dragged him over to the tunnel and down to the dungeon. I was thinking that he
would be a bad one to 'disappear' because his family lived in town, but then it
dawned on me. He came out here to cause trouble, he brought a witness-even
though the witness had fled, and he said on the tape just what he planned to do
to me. He was a perfect person to
disappear. I zip-tied his arms together at the wrists and elbows and with the
ladder hung him on the big hook, I blind-folded him and gagged him then went to
clean up the scene and call Dan.
I struggled-for the cameras-
out of the woods, having ripped my shirt and spread the blood from my injuries
all over my face and shirt front. I limped over to the worm shed and from there
to the house and got my cell phone to call Dan. I put some crying in my voice
and told him some kids had come by and beat me up, and I needed help. It seemed
I had only just hung up and Dan was there. When he pulled in I was sitting on
my stoop and leaning against the wall. I must have looked pretty bad, 'cause
Dan stopped and stared, then came and helped me into the house. He pulled out a
kitchen chair and sat me down carefully, while he checked for broken bones.
"Do you want to go to the hospital, Charlie?" "No, no I
don't," I whispered, like my throat hurt. "Can you help me clean up?
I need to see to the worms and check the shed."
Dan ran the water cool and
wet a towel and wrung it out, then helped clean my injuries. "You're going
to have bruises, boy, and I bet this cut lip could take a few stitches, are you
sure?" I nodded. Dan asked if I had seen who had done it, and I shook my
head. "I don't know for sure, someone hit me in the head. But Dan, do you
think the cameras worked?" Dan nodded, and after he got me a fresh wet
towel for the bruises, we went into the living room and he keyed up the
monitor. "Damn," he exclaimed, "That's Bobby Drums and Kyle Chester!
Those kids are always together and picking on kids and the old folk. I think
they might have bit off more than they can chew!" Dan ran the tape back to
listen to what they were saying. He looked like he wanted to throw up.
"Charlie," he said, "I gotta get this tape back to town. Are you
going to be okay on your own? Why don't you come with me?" I shook my head
no, and said, "I'm pretty tired and sore, I would rather go lie down for a
while." Dan shook his head and said, "No, come in with me, son, we
need to talk to some people and I'll run you over to the Doc, then I'll bring
you back later." I thought about the boy hanging in the dungeon, and said,
"Okay, I'll come"
Author Bio:
Helen Bishop is a native of Pennsylvania and a
true fan of the written word. She works as a litigation paralegal; reads on
average 20 books a week; writes book reviews for an internet blog; writes
stories, poems and novels in various genres; and-just to fill out her dance
card-contracts with fellow authors to proofread and copy-edit their work before
it goes to the publisher. You can check her out at
thttps://www.facebook.com/HelenBishopAuthor?ref=bookmarks, and
thttps://www.facebook.com/HelenBishopAuthor?ref=bookmarks, and
https://www.writerreadr.wordpress.com
Arthur O’ The Bower Excerpt by Ross S. Simon:
“Where’re we headed? Somewhere safe?”
“MI5 bunker,” said Rayland. “However, not officially MI5.”
“No?”
“Confidentially, Mister
Leightston…and it proves your importance to us in this matter that you’re one
of the first civilians to know this…Inspector Green and I, to whom Agents
Smythe and Johnson in the front seats answer, belong to a fledgling out-branch
of the Military Intelligence department, formed within the past few months, to
deal with supernatural occurrences.”
“Well, that would make sense, in a
situation like Scotland is facing.”
“Indeed,” said Green. “Zeta.”
“Pardon me?” said Gary.
“We’re called Zeta Branch,”
elaborated Green; he was smiling a bit for once. “We specialize in all issues paranormal. The sorts of things you’d see in science
fiction or horror films; events and manifestations that wouldn’t make sense in
our modern world of reason, but which happen anyway, we investigate. Ghosts, ghouls, goblins, things that go bump
in the night; vampires, werewolves and the like. Aliens, and flying saucers. People with supernatural powers; mind
readers, spoon-benders. These things
actually happen much more often than you’d wish to believe.”
“Well, I’d wish to believe in them
now,” said Gary with a shrug. “I did
give you my word.”
“On your cross, yes, as a believer in
one of the greatest religions in the entire history of the world. Yet, religious conviction is a matter of
personal preference, or else cultural nativity.
Belief in the supernatural, on the other hand, is a matter of what the
eye happens to perceive...and if I were only at liberty to tell you what my
eyes have beheld in the short time I’ve been with Zeta—”
Green suddenly fell silent, his eyes
widening. He had only now happened to
glance at the van door’s window.
It was rattling against the wind.
“Oh…no,” he said.
Rayland noticed, too. “He’s found us again,” she said, with a gasp
of fear. “He’s striking again.”
“That being?” said Gary, unable to
look away from the window himself.
Squilder had his eye tentatively on
Gary. “Damn straight,” he
deadpanned. “Son, I might cover my eyes
if I were—”
A strong gale, huge in force, blew
against the side of the van, violently rocking all six inside it, even picking
the van up half a meter off its two side wheels. After the side wheels landed on the road
again in simultaneous whumps, the
van’s tires screeched around crazily as Smythe strained to retain control.
“Smythe!” barked Green. “How much farther to Bunker Point Fifty?”
“Roughly two hundred meters, sir,”
said Smythe, having to raise his voice over the roar of the wind.
“Floor it, man!” demanded Green. “We’ve got to make it! Quick!
Before that—”
Another, humongous, windy blast
crashed into the van from the left side, so enormous and forceful that this
time, it took the vehicle completely up off its wheels. The van rolled onto its roof, right off of
the road, into a nearby field, top-over-bottom, then end-over-end.
All six people inside were screaming
the entire way to a massive boulder in the middle of the field. They could hardly hear their own screams,
however, as the roar of the wind was so loud…and so strange to the ear, like a
giant roaring in rage…and then, laughing with fiendish delight.
ROSS S. SIMON was born Sam Ridings in
La Crosse, WI, in 1979. After spending
the bulk of his childhood in Winona, MN, he moved at age nine to Santa Cruz,
CA, where he still lives today. His
hobbies include pinball gaming, collecting pop memorabilia, and reading
interesting novels of various genres.
Mr. Simon is the author of two previously published horror novels, THE
SNOW (Eternal Press, 2012), and RED DAHLIA (Damnation Books, 2013), as well as
four short horror stories.
Rand’s Story: The Sixth Blood Lord’s pt.1
A Southern Hospitality Companion
Story
By
Brien O’Raighne
CLUB CHAOS •
DOWNTOWN STORM CITY
Multiple Metapol Agents
undercover make their way through the line and into the crowded goth club. They
look around the room. Their first stop is the bar. Tending the bar is a young
woman with bronze locks. She wears a tight black tee with the words Club Chaos
rolling over her taught, perky breasts.
“Baby, what would you like to
drink?” She asks as she winks at Matt Thomas.
“Vodka on the rocks.” He
answers. Matt scans the room looking for the owner, Mr. Diablos. He shakes his
head. He leans his head back. “No visual on the target.”
“None, here, either, bro.”
Matt hears in his ear.
“Not on this point either.” A
female voice says.
“Your drink, stud.” The
bartender says sliding Matt his drink. She winks at him as she slides him a
napkin with her name and phone number on it. “Call me anytime, stud.”
Matt nods his head. He slides
the napkin into his pocket. Then, he picks up his drink and throws back a swig.
He looks around the room. A few people begin to make their way over to the
stairs headed down into the basement.
Matt turns his head over to
the bartender. He nods. “So, Lacey… what’s the deal with the basement?”
“Not sure, stud. I have only
been here a month or so.” She admits. “But I think some sort of VIP rooms are
down there. Invites only, though.”
“Good thing, I was invited,
then.” The female voice says in his ear. A smile crosses Matt’s face.
“You hear that, Bro.”
“Got it.”
“Keep us informed, Roxy.”
“Course, sugah.”
VIP ROOM 2 •
BASEMENT • CLUB CHAOS
Rand paces as he awaits the
possible new recruits. He begins to doubt himself. He shakes his head.
A man, with shoulder length
golden locks in a gray two-piece suit with crimson pinstripes, sips a glass of
champagne as he watches the unsteadiness of Rand. A smile is on his face. His
teeth shine in the light of the room. He rises to his feet from his seat in the
corner.
“Randall, everything will be
all right.” He says with a smugness in his voice.
Rand turns towards the man
and points a finger in his face. “I told you that I do not want to do this!”
Within a blink of an eye, the
man is in front of Rand. He lifts the vampire cop into the air with his free
hand. He sips from his champagne flute. He squeezes the neck of Rand. Rand
grabs the man’s arm as the touch begins to sear his skin. His eyes glow. “I
don’t care. Either you do or you are done for good, forever. Do I make myself
clear, Randall?”
Rand gulps as he struggles to
get the searing heat off his neck.
The man pulls Rand closer as
he stills clutches Rand’s neck. “I didn’t get your answer, Randall.”
Rand grits his teeth. “Unh.
Got it, boss.”
A smile crosses the man’s
face. “Good. See to it that you do not disappoint me.”
He, then, puts Rand back down
onto his feet. He straightens the jacket and shirt that Rand is wearing. Rand
pushes back the hand helping him. “I can get this myself.”
The man shrugs his shoulders.
“If you wish. Our guests are arriving.”
Rand crosses his arms as the
man walks back over to his seat and sits back down. He crosses his legs. Then,
he sips more of his champagne. Rand looks back over his shoulder as he glares
at the man.
A wry grin in on the man’s
face. He raises his glass to Rand in a mock toast. “Calm down, my friend. Enjoy
the power I give you.”
Rand looks away from the man.
He looks over at the door. He takes a deep breath. A collection of people
begins to make their way into the room. Rand scans the crowd. He feels a pang
of familiarity with one of the members of the crowd.
He takes a stroll closer to a
buxom female with dark brown hair and emerald green eyes. He raises a brow. Her
face seems familiar to him. He stops in front of her. She is startled by his
sudden presence.
“You okay?” Rand says.
“Sugah, I’ll be fine. You
just startled me.” She says as she tries to hide her identity from him. She
gulps.
“Do I know you?” Rand says
crooking his head. “Something about you seems very familiar to me.”
“Sugah, I’d remember you if
that had happened.” She gulps again as she hopes that she was not just made. “I
am pretty good with names and faces.”
“Careful, we do not know what
Rand is up to or why he is here.” She hears in her ear.
“Right.” He leans in and
speaks in hushed tones. “Roxy, what the hell are you doing here?”
She whispers back. “We are
here trying to find out what Diablos is up to.” Then, she sees him sitting in
the back of the room. He raises his flute to her and smiles. She gulps. “He –
he – he’s here?”
“Yes. You are screwed. We all
are. He wants me to be the Sixth Blood Lord here.”
“GET OUT! NOW!” She hears in
her ear. She gulps. She sees the man rise. He snaps his fingers. Everything
goes black.
Author Bio:
He is a connoisseur of sci-fi and paranormal films and books. He, also, lives in Houston with his son.
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Keep
Writing/Reading!
Jodie
Pierce
