Monday, February 1, 2016

Darkness Within Ezine Vol. 8

Hi all!

It's my favorite time of the month, when the new month's ezine is released. Check it out and leave us comments. We love to hear from our readers! Here ya go!


 CEO & President: Jodie Pierce

Vice President & Cover Artist: Lindsey Jayne

Editor-In-Chief: Jessica Sawa

Elosie Asylum by Thom Futrell
Dead People by Helen Bishop
The She-wolf of Lake Wildwood: Part 7 by Ronald Edward Griffin
Dead Love Part 4 by Samuel Southwell
Movie Villain Death: Alan Rickman by The Vampire Queen1
The Worm Farm  (9 & 10) by Helen Bishop
Detective Goodson: Rand’s Story: Fight for a Friend by Brien O’Raighne

2016 All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction of this ezine in part or in whole.


One thing I have learned in my years of writing about and researching haunted locations is that asylums, no matter how well meaning they might be, are not good places. Things never end nicely for the patients. I was searching for a subject for this month’s issue when I stumbled across one that somehow got missed on my radar.
The place was used as a setting in a mystery series and also was included in a nonfiction book. It is also a Michigan historical marker. I am talking about the Eloise Asylum, and this is her story.
     The Wayne County Poor House was founded in 1832. It was located at Gratiot and Mt. Elliott Avenues in Hamtramck Township two miles from the Detroit city limits. By 1834 the poorhouse was in bad condition and 280 acres in Nankin Township were purchased. The Black Horse Tavern, which served as a stagecoach stop between Detroit and Chicago, was located on the property. In those days it was a two-day stagecoach ride from Hamtramck Township to Nankin Township. The register shows that on April 11, 1839 35 people were transferred from the poorhouse in Hamtramck Township to the new one in Nankin Township. 111 apparently refused to go to the "awful wilderness." Many were children and homes among the residents of the city may have been found for them. The log cabin which was formerly the Black Horse Tavern became the keeper's quarters and in 1838-9 a frame building was put up to house the inmates. A frame cookhouse was erected in the back of the log building and was used for cooking for both inmates and the keeper's family.
The complex was almost self-sufficient. It had its own police and fire department, railroad and trolley stations, bakery, amusement hall, laundries, and a powerhouse. It also had many farm buildings including a dairy herd and dairy barns, a piggery, a root cellar, a Tobacco curing building, and employee housing.
Eloise was one of the first, if not the first, hospital to use x-rays for diagnosis performed by Dr.Albarran. Patients came from Detroit and other communities to have x-rays done. It also housed the first kidney dialysis unit in the State of Michigan and pioneered in the field of Music Therapy.
As the years went on the institution grew larger and larger, a reflection of the increases in the population of the Detroit area. From only 35 residents in 1839 the complex grew to about 10,000 residents at its peak during the Great Depression and then started to decrease. The farm operations ceased in 1958 and some of the large psychiatric buildings were vacated in 1973. The psychiatric division started closing in 1977 when the State of Michigan took over the psychiatric division. The general hospital closed in 1984.
Inventor Elijah McCoy may be its most famous former resident. He spent a year prior to his death as a patient in the Eloise Infirmary. There were other well-known people who died at Eloise including several baseball players. Among them are Jul Kustus (died April 27, 1916), Larry Lejeune (died April 21, 1952), Charlie Krause (died March 30, 1948) and Marty Kavanagh (died 1960) Musician Horace Flinders was also a patient, and received music therapy.
Today the land that once was Eloise has been developed into a strip mall, a golf course, and condominiums. There are only two buildings currently in use. One is "D" Building or the Kay Beard Building. At one time this was an administration building and it was also used for psychiatric admissions and apartments for some employees like the Catholic chaplain. The old commissary building is currently being used as a family homeless shelter.
The old bakery, the fire hall (former psychiatric facility laundry), and the power house are still standing in ruins. The Eloise smokestack — emblazoned Eloise in brick — was deemed to be a hazard and was demolished in 2006.
In 1979, the Walter P. Reuther Psychiatric Hospital, located near the northwest end of the former Eloise property, just southeast of the intersection of Merriman and Palmer Roads, was opened. The facility is currently operated by the Michigan Department of Community Health. In 1996, Oakwood Health System opened an outpatient facility, the Adams Child & Adolescent Health Center, on the corner of Merriman and Palmer near Reuther Hospital. Both facilities have Palmer Road addresses.
     There have been reports of disembodied voices coming from the cemetery ruins and the Kay Beard building. There is also a female specter who walks the halls of the D building. Who she is remains a mystery. Could she be a patient, still tortured by the events of that building? Or maybe a former employee still trying to do right by the world. Maybe she was around while it was a poorhouse, and could have been mistaken as an insane person’s hallucination.
Would I like to investigate this area? Absolutely! It’s only about an hour’s ride from my front door. I hope to go see this area for myself and then comeback to share my findings with all of you. I want to hear those voices, I want to know what the dead are trying to tell us.

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.

Dead People by Helen Bishop

I knew something was wrong.
I had that itchy-prickly feeling. You know the one that is only slightly unsettling. Either you've forgotten something, or someone is watching you, or the weather is suddenly changing. Something was definitely amiss. What was it?
I couldn't, for the moment decide whether it was something in me or in my general vicinity, but whatever it was, it was pulling at me.
Had I forgotten something, something really important? I had pulled the van into the shed as usual, and this time even double-checked that I had turned off the headlights. It wouldn't do to have the battery die again. The last time that happened had almost been my undoing. I crossed over to the kitchen sink to wash up and glanced out the window. Nothing. Everything looked okay outside; the something had to be a something I had forgotten. I knew better than to pick at it, I decided instead to go over the night's festivities in my head. Whatever it was would be remembered better if I wasn't dwelling on it.
I had always had a 'sick' sense - not the 'sixth' sense like that boy in the movie. I, like him, also saw dead people-the difference being, of course, his were already dead; mine were going to be dead. I could be at a normal, everyday event and look at any group of people, and just like lions casing a herd of water buffalos, I could choose the ones that would be easiest to pick off. A look, a sideways glance, and I could tell who, and begin to fantasize how. When I was younger, fantasy was all it ever was. I would think of what I could do to them, and how I would do it, if I ever had the chance.
But chance, being chance, did come. And when it did, it changed my life, as well as the life of the person that had been chance's choice. I still fantasized of course, but my fantasies were stronger and more detailed, now that I had my realities to draw upon.
I also started working out, so I had some actual body strength. I had always been skinny, now I was wiry. I could pick up two sixty pound bags of dog food at the grocery, and not even break a sweat. I'm 5'6'', black-haired and green eyed, and I can act like a tender waif, but nobody has gotten the better of me in years, and people that know me stay away, forcing me to go farther and farther from home to feed my fantasies.
Take tonight for example, I was out driving, minding my own business, when this guy pulled up alongside me at a light. He had a flashy, low-slung car and he wanted to prove something to someone. He revved his engine and wanted to race. I shook my head no, but he revved again. I smiled and we were off, him handily beating me to both of the next two lights. At the third one, he revved again and I gave it all my souped-up van had and blew him away, flipping him the finger as I sailed through the yellow, watching as he caught the red.
I pulled into a nearby deserted parking lot and parked the van, waiting for what I knew was coming.
He entered the lot and pulled up behind me.
He looked angry as he got out of his car and came up to my window, and found me laughing at him. I don't know if he was mad because I had flipped him the bird, or because he had been beaten by a girl, but it really didn't matter. He started cursing me out and banging on the window, and told me to get out of the van. I refused, and flipped him the finger again. He banged harder on the window, then looked around, bent down and came up with a rock.
I lowered the window a bit, and asked him to put the rock down. I said I would get out and apologize. You could see his piggy eyes and brain engage, as he looked around and saw that we were alone. He could be the big, bad wolf to my terrified rabbit, and he could do anything he
wanted to me to exact revenge.
I bent down a bit, and then unlocked the door.
When he ripped the door open and reached for me, I let him have it, with both barrels. The surprise on his face was priceless.

I looked around, and seeing no witnesses, I drug him back around and into the rear of my van. I left his car where he had parked it, with the keys on the seat, and the doors unlocked. In that part of town, it would be gone in no time.

I had pulled him out of my van and rolled him off the road into the coal strippings on my way home.

Suddenly I remembered what was eating at my brain! I had forgotten to rinse out the van!

I knew that I would eventually remember!

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:


The She-Wolf of Lake Wildwood
Part 7

            Kurt wakes up in time to see Diane getting ready for work. He stretches his arms out far as he yawns. She walks over to him and kisses him on the lips deeply. Once she pulls away she smiles at him hungrily.
            “You were an animal last night Kurt. I look forward to another round tonight.”
            “Will you still be awake when I get off work tonight?” he asks.
            “You got a call from the general manager while you were sleeping. You don’t have to go to work today they have closed down for the investigation of that poor girls death. So you get to have the day off just make sure you get the boys off to school before you go anywhere.”
            “I will probably stay at home today in that case. Catch up on some of my favorite shows on Netflix.” Kurt
            “Sounds like fun dear just try not to have too much fun. Save that for tonight.” She says with a wink.
            He smiles knowing how lucky he is to have her. She truly does make him feel like the luckiest man alive as she pushes him back onto the bed straddling him. When she kisses him along the neck he feels a slight shudder of pleasure. He leans up to kiss her but then she pulls back waving her finger back and forth.
            “Nope, you wait for tonight.”
            Diane grinds her hips once over him while getting off the bed.
            “Don’t go back to bed now get up and get the boys off.” She says while opening the bedroom door.
            “I love you Diane try to have a good day at work.”
            She smiles warmly before blowing Kurt a kiss.
            “I love you too baby.”
            She closes the door as she leaves the room. Kurt gets up a few minutes later and knocks on the door to the boy’s room. He opens the door and starts knocking again and the two boys roll over letting out groans.
            “Get up and get dressed you two. The bus will be here to pick you up soon.”
            “Dad do we have to go to school today?”
            “Can we stay home please? We are still sleepy.”
            “Well then maybe the two of you should go without video games for a while. Maybe then you will get up for school.”
            The two boys jump out of bed and scramble to the dresser to get their school clothes.
            “That’s what I thought. See you boys in the living room when you’re ready.”
            Kurt walks into the kitchen to get their lunches ready. While making a peanut butter and jelly sand which he glances out the window and sees a man standing outside with Tabetha next door. The man is dressed in a pair of slacks with a button shirt and tie. He also wears a trench coat and is holding a pen and notepad. Just like the detectives you would see on T.V.
            “I really hope that she isn’t capable of murder but it is a strange coincidence that two people have died from animal attacks in locations she has been.”
            The two boys rush out of the bedroom as Kurt finishes making the sandwiches.
            “We’re ready for school daddy.”
            “I see that and just in time.”
            They can hear the school bus as it comes to a stop right outside of their house.
            “Go hurry before they leave you.” Kurt says while handing them their lunches.
            The two boys rush out of the house and get onto the bus as Kurt watches them leave. When the bus has gone his attention returns to the girl next door Tabetha. The detective closes his notebook and nods his head to her before walking to his car parked in her driveway.
            “You don’t need to get involved Kurt. You need to stay home do not walk over there.”
            He closes his eyes, turns around, and walks into the living room. He sits in his favorite recliner and leans back before turning on the T.V.
While searching for a show to watch his thoughts drift to the poor girl next door and wondering who she really is or where she has come from.

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.

By Samuel D Southwell
       PART 4

Mike stood staring out the window. The scene outside was no better than the one on the inside. Nothing but broken planes, buildings, and probably a few hundred or hundred thousand dead people. He didn’t want to think about what could have happened to Jane. He prayed she was safe.
“Please mister help mama.”
Mike shuttered. “What?”
“I said help mama!” Sam stared up at him.
“Aright Sam. Come on.” He took Sam’s hand and they walked over to Heather. She was sitting on one of the airport chairs eating a cold piece of pizza.
“What is it?”
Heather reached out to him. “Help me up I need to stretch my legs.”
Mike took one hand and Sam took the other. Together they lifted her off the seat and on to her feet. More Mike then Sam.
“Thank you. Help me over to the window. I want to see what you find so interesting over there.”
Mike put his arm around her and half carried her to the window. There she put one hand on the wall to steady herself. Then she looked down at Sam giving him a smile. He smiled back. “Thank you, baby.”
Sam smiled back at her. “Welcome mama.”
Mike glanced around the room. Steve and Emily were sitting on the bench reading one of her books. Jean was leaning against the wall next to them watching the entrance. John sat with his wife holding her hand whispering to her gently. Mike thoughts returned to Jane.
“So what’s the plan then? Do we sit here until the beasts come for us or do we make a break for it?”
Mike turned back to the window. “I don’t know! I’m not even sure we could move John’s wife if we wanted to.” Mike lowered his voice. “Which means if we go then we would have to leave them behind. Not to mention you can barely walk.”
Heather let out a sigh. “All you say is true but we can’t just sit here. We need to find out what happened. Where is everyone? Or if the fan boys are right, where are we?”
Mike let out a small snort. “Fan boys huh?”
“What can say, I love a little sci-fi. And if this was a movie then we could be in a para-ell universe, hell, or some other damn place.”
Mike look into her eyes. They reminded him of Jane. Deep blue pools he could lose his soul in. “I’m not going to argue with you on that point, it could be any of those things. I was a fan of fantasy when I was a kid myself but if we are in any of those place then the devil, demon, god, or whoever is in charge should be showing himself anytime now. Mayhaps we should just wait for him.”
“Cute!” Heather glanced down at Sam who was playing with his car on the floor at her feet. “All kidding aside we need to do something.”
“You’re right.” Mike raised his voice so the others could hear him. “Ok everyone. It is time to make a decision. What should we do? We can stay here and hope someone or something will save us or some of us can go find out just what it is we are dealing with.”
John patted Martha’s hand. “It’s alright honey.” He stood up. “Your right Mike. Martha won’t survive without medical attention and Heather there is not much better but we do need to do something. So what did you have in mind?”
“To be honest I don’t see what choice we have other than to get out of this airport and see what is really going on outside. Find out if there are any other people left out there. Or if we are the only survivors of this...”
Steve piped in. “So who goes and who stays with the wounded.”
Mike and John looked at each other. “Well John your wife is hurt the worse. We may not come back and I’m not sure if we can or should move her. What do you think?”
John looked at Martha then he scanned the room. “There!” John pointed at wheeled cart. “We can use that.” He looked Martha in the eyes. “Don’t worry honey. I won’t leave you.”
“Alright let’s do this.” Steve retrieved the cart.
Mike, Steve, and John got beside Martha as Jean and Emily held the cart in place.
“Careful now boys. On three. Are you ready my dear?”
“Ok my love.”
“One, two, three.” On three they all lifted Martha onto the cart as she screamed in pain.

Everyone watched John gently tie Martha to the cart with a few belts they found in the luggage that littered the airport. “I’m sorry my love but I don’t want you to roll off and hurt yourself worse.”
“I know my darling.”
John kissed her passionately and Mike thoughts return once again to Jane. Praying once again that she is safe and he will be able to kiss her sweet lips one last time.
John checked the belts to make sure they were tight enough to prevent her from falling but not too tight that she was in worse pain. “Ok darling. I think you are as ready as you will ever be.” A tear spill down his cheek.
“Oh my darling after all these years you still...”
John put his finger to her lips. “And I always will.” He kissed her one more time before grabbing the handle of the cart. “Alright folks let’s go.”
Heather took Sam’s hand and put her arm around Mike’s neck. Steve took Emily’s hand and Jean brought up the rear. Together they headed into the unknown.

Mike lead his ragtag troop of survivors through the airport to the exit. So far they found nothing and no one. The airport was devoid of life except for them. He was beginning to think that maybe Heather was right they were is some kind of fan boy fantasy. God have mercy on them all.
“Mike I have to rest for a minute.”
“Ok here.” He set her down in a nearby chair. Sam sat next to her and he patted his little head. “Keep an eye on your mommy for me.”
Sam took Heather’s hand and she smiled at him.
“Be right back.” Mike walked over to John. “How is she?”
John let out a breath. “Sleeping at the moment.”
“And how are you holding up?”
“Tired but...”
“Yeah I know. You’re a good man John.”
“She’s my world.” A tear escaped his eye and he quickly wiped it away. Then he brushed Martha hair away from her face.
Mike put his hand on his shoulder. “I know how you feel!”
“Yeah I suppose you do. She is a sweet girl and a nice boy you got there.”
“Huh? Oh no. My fiancĂ© is in Florida. Where I live? I just met those two today.”
“Oh sorry I didn’t mean...”
“It’s alright John. You didn’t know and yes they are great. If I didn’t...”
John patted his back gently. “Look I was young once so you don’t have to say anything. You are a kind man for looking after them. Hell for looking after all of us. Don’t worry about that right now. There is no judgment here. So it’s OK. As far as your love so far away. I’ve been there two. Spent two tours in ‘Nam. Hell this trip was a 40th anniversary present from our grand kids. Life’s crazy like that.” John watched Martha as she slept. “40 years and now this.”
Mike put his arm around John. “She’ll make it cause she has you.”
John let a short nervous laugh. “Yeah we been through hell and back. This is just another trip is all.”
“Mike come here.” Jean was standing at the exit staring out.
Mike came up beside her. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure. Look over there.”
Mike strained to see. “Is that?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“But that’s impossible. Those things aren’t real.”
“Tell that to him.”
“Oh my a giant dog.”
“No Emily get back from the window.”
“Oh my god quick get away from the doors.”
Mike reached out and pulled Emily back just as the window exploded in a ball of flame.
“Oh my god!”
“Everybody alright!” Mike scanned the room. Jean was pressed against the wall, Heather and Sam were hiding behind a terminal desk, and Steve was helping John wheel Martha behind a billboard.
“How the hell...?” Jean blurted out just as another fireball hit the door next to her. She dived behind the nearest row of benches.
“Everyone stay where you are.” He turned to Emily who was hiding her face in his shirt. “Emily we have to get over to the others. Alright?”
Emily nodded her head.
“Alright when I say run. Go as fast as you can and don’t stop until you are behind that terminal desk. Understand.”
Emily nodded again. Mike took her hand and looked through the burned out doors. The beast was on the other side of the street sniffing the air. Mike watched it careful. The beast was looking first right and then back to the left. Then it looked in Mike’s direction and began to take a deep breath. “Oh shit. Go Emily now.”
Mike released her hand and they both sprinted across the lobby as the beast shot another fireball directly where they were standing. The wall behind them exploded and pieces of the wall flew in a hundred direction.
Emily landed in Steve’s arms as he pulled her behind the desk out of sight of the beast. Mike landed next to him followed by Jean.
“Everyone in one piece.”
“I think so. What the hell is that thing?”
Mike peeked over the desk scanning the area. “If I had to guess I would say it was a hell hound.”
Heather held Sam close to here. “A hell hound? So we are on another plane.”
“Maybe but we can’t worry about that right now. We have to find a way to deal with that thing out there.”
“Anybody got any ideas.” John held Martha’s hand.
“I got one!”

“You sure about this?” Mike peeked his head up, saw the beast at the entrance, and quickly ducked back down. 
“No, but it is the best idea we have. So let’s do this.” John peeked around the side careful not to be spotted by the beast.
“Everyone ready!” Steve held a half-full plastic two liter bottle in his hand.
They both nodded.
“Alright I used to be real good at this.” Steve crawled to the end of the terminal desk so he was away from the others. Then he tossed the bottle as hard as he could against the far wall. The bottle bounced against the wall making a loud thud.
The beast turned toward the bottle as Mike and John ran at the beast. They both held a fire extinguisher. They were almost on top of him when the beast turned back to them.
Both men shot the beast with the white powder. The beast was blinded and shot another fireball from its mouth but it went wide and exploded into the far wall away from the survivors.
Mike smashed the extinguisher into the beast’s back while John smashed his into the beast’s jaw cracking the beast’s teeth. The beast tried to run but Steve crushed its legs with a baseball bat he found earlier. The beast struggled but the men overpowered it and it finally stopped moving.
“We did it!” John breathed heavily.
“Yes we did. Nice plan Steve.”
“Thanks, but where did it come from?”
“Yeah and what else is out there?” Mike stared at the beast, then turned, and scanned outside.

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 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.

Movie Villain death:

Image result for severus snape

I would be remiss if I did not mention the death of Alan Rickman this month. He was 69 years old from London, England, suffered a stroke and then passed away after a battle with Pancreatic Cancer.
Most of us know him as the torturous Severus Snape from the Harry Potter franchise but who remembers him as the villain, Hans Gruber in the 1988 film Die Hard where he landed on AFI’s 100 years, 100 heroes & villains where he landed number 46 of all time villains? He played Sheriff of Nottingham in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. His title role in Rasputin: Dark Servant of Destiny which won him an Oscar, Emmy and Screen Actors Guild Award, His first work as an Actor came in 1978 in a TV movie of Romeo & Juliet as Tybalt.
Alan Rickman originally started as a Graphic Designer but after three successful years decided to pursue a career as an actor. He’d went to all the fine acting schools in London so at 18 years old, he changed his path and ours. He met a woman in 1965 and they moved in together in 1977 and she was with him until he died (he later confessed they had a private wedding in 2012). He bounced back and forth from the silver screen to the stage and won award after award.
He died in a London hospital with just a handful of friends, for that’s all he’d told about the cancer, though he had been terminally ill for a while. The outpouring of actors on twitter was astonishing. Everyone from Harry Potter couldn’t believe it and all not only said how amazing he was but how they’d miss him and were in shock. Many commented on his unique voice.
I feel, though he died young, he had a very successful career and left a great legacy behind. He will forever be Severus Snape for me. What do you think?

Image result for slytherin crest

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 9 & 10):

I didn't know what to do with his clothes. It had me puzzled when I was working with the boy before, but this guy was fully dressed. I had ripped up the boy's clothes and buried them in the riverbed, hoping that they would rot and become a part of the loam itself. I didn't know whether to strip this guy's clothes off while he was knocked out, or take them off a bit at a time when he came to. Clothes were something I hadn't thought much about while planning out this stuff. It made me a little mad at myself. I must’ve thought that these people would show up naked, sometimes even I thought I was a dummy! I took an undershirt of my own and tried to put it through the grinder, but it got all balled up, and it was a chore to get back out.

Then I had a great idea! I went back down to the room and while the husband was still passed out, I took a knife and stripped him naked except for his underwear and socks. It was hard to do it around the ties and I made a mental note to strip them before I hung anyone else up. I took the clothes outside to my trash burner and burned them along with the trash. Up to a point I had put all my trash into the worms and composted it, but the aluminum foil and plastic trash I burned in small amounts in a metal can I had gotten for just that reason. The plastic burned hot and none of his clothing was left after the fire. I put his sneakers into the cart to drop off the road on my way to the river later. I had looked at the sneakers before I put them in the cart, but they weren't my size, so they had to go. I had noticed before there were a lot of shoes on the roadway, although normally only one shoe at any one place. His sneaks would go that way, and no one would ever connect them with me.

I felt a bit better after solving the clothes problem. It would be terrible to have made a place to take care of these problem people, to keep everyone else away from where I was doing it, and get rid of everything, only to be caught because of clothing! Well, I'd taken care of that.

I went back online and read about domestic violence, about how the beater would separate the victim from family and friends, and do mental things to keep the victim unsure. I read that the abuser would hurt the victim, and then say they were drunk or high, and didn't remember anything. Or that it wasn't their fault; the victim had driven them to do it. Then they would beg forgiveness, and the victim would forgive them, and the cycle would start again, but each time the abuse was forgiven, they would go a little farther in their abuse. Mind games? Sir and the woman were masters of mind games. And I appeared to have been the ‘poster-child’ victim.

I studied a little more and then went down to him.

He was awake and straining at his ties.

I walked right up to him, and got in his face. I was safe from him; I had tied him tight to the pegboard. I had tied his head also, top and bottom so he couldn't even move it.

"So," I said, "You're the big man that beat that lady."

"That wasn't proven," he blurted out, "um...what lady, I mean?"

I stepped back and slapped him, right across his mouth. "We don't lie here," I said, "Want to try again?"

He looked shocked that I had dared to slap him; he balled up his fist and strained to punch out at me.

"Can't do it," I said. "You're tied fast. Now I can show you how it feels to do what you've been doing to your wife." And I slapped him again. These were no little slaps, no little play slaps, I hauled back and gave him something, as Sir used to say, to think about.

"Now tell me," I said, "Why do you feel the need to hit your wife?"

"Ain't your business, man. What happens between the wife and me is my business. You get no say!"

"Wrong answer," I said, as I stepped forward to slap him again, but changed my mind and I went toward the shelves and got the roll of duct tape. I came toward him on the wall and I started unwinding tape from the roll. He seemed to pull back from my direction, and I watched him as I pulled off about 2 feet of the tape. I came at him with the tape extended and put it across his mouth as I tried taping his head more tightly to the wall. He was moving his mouth around, and sticking his tongue out-trying to make the taping impossible. I stepped back and pulled on the end of the tape, ripping it and some of his hair right off. He hollered then, and as he hollered I put the tape across the hairy part of his chest and pressed it down hard. Stepping back, I ripped it back off, pulling it hard like taking off a bandage. He hollered again and tears rolled down his cheeks as he watched the tape-sized swatch of hair come off his chest.

"Now," I said as I came toward the husband again, "will you fight? Or will you let me tape your mouth shut?"

"Go ahead and tape it," he sniffled. "Go ahead."

"Now I don't have to."

I wet a towel and wrung it out, then draped it over the shoulders and torso of the husband. He shivered when the cold water hit his chest. I cleaned up the tape pieces, laid fresh newspaper under him, turned out the lights and went up to the farm.

I ground up some apples and grapes from my refrigerator and put them into a wide mouth jar. I took the jar and a funnel down to him. I showed him the food and motioned for him to open his mouth. He shook his head, so I said, "In you or on you, but this is all you get for supper. It's your choice. You don't want to eat?" I took a fingerful and flung in toward the sore on his chest. "Never mind, you'll be ready to eat by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" he squeaked out. "I'll be dead by tomorrow. That's what you plan on doing to me isn't it? Killing me?"

"I don't know," I replied. "Is that what you planned for your wife?"

"I would never! I love my wife!"

"Sure you do, it shows." Then I walked out.

The next morning, bright and early, after I fed and watered the worms, I got in the golf cart and meandered down to town. I looked in at the Sheriff's office, like always, and when I saw Dan, I said, "Dan? Do you think it would be okay for me to take flowers to the lady in the hospital? You know, that lady in the coma?"

Dan looked at me puzzled, "Why Charlie, do you know her?'

"No, but she got hurt just like I did and I want her to know that someone cares."

"Well, she's in intensive care and they don't allow flowers. But we can ride over and check on her if you'd like."
"Could we go right now?"

Dan nodded and I loped out to the car.

On the way out to the hospital I asked about the lady. Her name was Denise Watkins and she had been pretty big in the local high-school, a cheerleader and homecoming queen, but not snotty like girls like that often are. She had volunteered at the hospital she was now lying in, and a bunch of the nurses remembered her. Dan told me that she had gone away to school, and met her husband in college. He had swept her off her feet, in a whirl-wind courtship and married her. She had quit college when he asked her to and because money was tight, they moved back to her hometown when her grandmother died and her house stood empty.

A bunch of the town's ladies had gone out to the house a time or two to invite Denise to join the local garden club and ladies' auxiliary at the firehouse, but her husband had turned them away every time, and Denise had never even come to the door. A few of the ladies had thought it not right, but the husband, his name was Jerry Watkins, had laughed and told them stuff about how they were still on their honeymoon.

According to the medical reports, Denise had been beaten, but more than just this one time. The doctor had figured that she had been beaten and strangled repeatedly, because of the old scars and bruising, and the things that showed up on the x-rays. Dan said it looked like she had been sexually abused as well, and he was 90% sure that the husband had done it, but with no witnesses they'd have to wait until Denise came out of the coma.

Dan said he had gone out to the house to talk to the husband, but even though there had been music on and the doors open, he wasn't there. Dan allowed as how he'd probably show up somewhere drunk again.

I told Dan I was interested because of what had happened to me, and how I was hoping to stop it, in my own little way, from happening again. He thought I meant the neighborhood watch, and that was some of it, but the rest of it was standing in his own waste in my dungeon.

I asked Dan, "Didn't anyone know if he'd been beating her?" Dan said there had been some rumors, and the few times anyone had ever seen her out, she was always with the husband, and it seemed she was not allowed to speak. Dan said he and the sheriff had tried to see her, but her husband always turned them away from the door, with some talk of her resting, or away visiting relatives, even though all her relatives lived in town.

"Apparently this time a trucker looking for an address had stopped and seen Denise lying halfway out her front door and called for the ambulance,” Dan said. “I think that bastard beat her, and then stepped over her to go out and drink and make an alibi! But I can't prove it."

"Can't you sweat it out of him like in the movies?" I asked.

"Wish I could," Dan replied. "But until he shows up, we can only wait."

We parked in the hospital's parking lot and Dan went to ask about Denise's condition, and if she could have visitors.

She wasn't allowed visitors yet, she was still in a coma. The doctor took Dan aside and he told me on the way back to town just what the doctor had said. It seems that Denise was in sorry shape. They were waiting until the swelling came down to do x-rays on her face, because they believed the left orbit was broken, as well as the hyoid bone in her throat. "He said that if she comes out of the coma, and that's a big if, she may never be okay again. He's pretty sure that there's a problem with her spine and it looks like she had been pregnant, at least a couple weeks. The sexual assault made her lose the baby."

"You can lose a baby from sex?" I was amazed.

"The assault was a sexual one, but not sex. Apparently Denise was penetrated with something big that ripped her up and left splinters. That's why she miscarried."

I was feeling kind of sick, and so, it seemed was Dan. We were silent on the way back to town, each of us thinking just what we would like to do to Jerry Watkins.

What a dirty trick that Jerry guy had played on her. She sounded like a nice girl and even if she wasn't, he had no reason to beat her almost to death. I would be her protector, as much as I could for now. I would talk to her husband and make him see the truth. Make him see that what goes around comes around. It had come around for the woman and Sir; it would also come around for Jerry Watkins. I would see to it.

It occurred to me on my trip back to the farm that everything was on my side and against Jerry Watkins. No one knew where he was, not even him. For all he knew, he had gotten drunk and passed out on the hammock in his back yard, and woken up in hell. He didn't know me; I had never seen him at the farm. He probably didn't remember being slammed into his car's trunk, he had been unsteady on his feet and being hit in the head, I knew from my own past, sometimes made you forget the stuff that happened just before.

I, alone knew where he was. I alone knew, or at least believed what he was. And I alone would make him pay.

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:

Rand’s Story: Fight for a Friend
A Southern Hospitality Companion

Brien O’Raighne


Asmodiel and Borothiel drag Rand down the crimson red carpeted room. They stop at the foot to the throne. They bring Rand to his feet. There is a look of disgust on his face.
“Welcome, my dear Randall.” The man on the throne rises and begins his descent down the steps.
Rand glares at the golden haired man. “What the fuck am I doing here, Lucifer? What the fuck do you want with me?”
“Now. Now.” Lucifer waves his hand and the shackles come off Rand and fall to the floor with a clanking sound. “Is that anyway to talk to an old friend?”
“I’m not sure where you get our delusions.” Rand spouts. “You and I are not friends.”
In a mocking tone, Lucifer gasps. “I would like to rectify that, Randall.”
“Return me home. Those abominations of yours need to be destroyed.”
“You would kill innocent people.”
Rand raises a brow. “Innocent? I think not. Now I’d like to go back home.”
“No.” Lucifer says. “I have a proposition for you. You must take it before I’ll even consider returning you to your home.”
Rand raises a brow. “You sure you want to upset my great-grandfather. He is very concerned about me.”
“You think you can threaten me with an ancient sorcerer.” Lucifer chuckles. “You are seriously out of your league here, Randall.”
Rand takes a step back. He takes a deep breath out of habit. He shakes his head. “What do you want?”
“I want you to take the lead of my clan of vampires.”
“Huh?” Rand cocks his head. This proposition is nothing what he expected from Lucifer. “I already have a job and I rather like it. Plus, there are already 5 Blood Lords in Storm City.”
“You think those groups mean anything to me?” Lucifer says. “Well, maybe the Crimson Clan. But other than that, no.”
“I don’t know.”
Lucifer puts a finger in Rand’s chest. There is a sizzling sound of Rand’s skin. His eyes open wide. “You wish to return to your life, I suggest you take this opportunity. If not, well I believe you get my point.” Lucifer removes his finger from Rand’s chest.


Five black SUVs pull up. Kanto looks out a nearby window. He rubs his chin. “Hmmm. I wonder who could be here.”
He walks down the hall to the office of the Senior Pastor, Keith Levinsworth. Sitting behind the mahogany, is Atatoli. His feet are propped up on the desk. Atatoli is smoking a cigarette. He blows out some smoke from his mouth as Kanto enters.
“Yes, Kanto. You have something for me?”
“We have company.”
“Then, I guess we need to welcome them.” Atatoli puts his cigarette out and, then, rises to his feet.
“Follow me.”
Atatoli and Kanto walk into the foyer. Standing in the foyer are Don Bertolli, Luke Kellermeier, Gina Torres, Dat Pham, and their best people. All of the vampires are armed with heavy assault rifles. Atatoli opens his arms wide.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
“Yeah. You can hand over the Vampire Detective, Randall Goodson.” Luke says as he rests his finder on the side of his assault rifle.
Atatoli cocks his head. “I’m sorry, who?”
“SCPD Detective Goodson.”
“I’m sorry, but I do not recognize that name.” Atatoli says. “You think he is here.”
The vampires raise their rifles and aim them at Atatoli and Kanto. Both raise their hands into the air. Atatoli shakes his hands. “I do not know what you vampires think you are doing. We do not have this… Detective Goodson here. Feel free to check out this facility. You will only find the two of us here. We are working late tonight.”
“WE will do just that…”
“Levinsworth. Kevin Levinsworth. I am the Senior Pastor here.”
Kanto looks over at Atatoli.
The vampires lower their weapons. Don Bertolli steps forward. He nods to Atatoli. “We are sorry for the intrusion, pastor. We are just looking for our dear compatriot. He seems to have gone missing.”
“I am sorry to hear that.”
“One thing that bugs me…” Luke says while rubbing his chin. “How do you know about vampires?”
“I consult with the local Metapol office from time to time. They like to hear GOD’s word and what he has planned for this world.”
“We are sorry to bother you, pastor.” Luke says. He motions for the vampires to follow him and the other Blood Lords out. They look around with caution as they walk out of the building. Atatoli walks behind them.
“If you ever want to hear the Good Word, you are always welcome.” Atatoli says with a smile on his face.
Kanto walks up behind him as they watch the vampires get into their SUVs and leave. Kanto pats the shoulder of Atatoli.
“Quite a performance, Atatoli.”
“Thank you. I don’t like that the Blood Lords could find us so easily. But keeping the good pastor around has been good. Are the initiates ready?” Atatoli says.
“Almost. They should be ready in a day or two.”
“Good. The Plasma Clan shall rise today.”


Captain Elerby Hill sits in his office going over the reports of the last few hours. He sighs as he thinks about his friend. He looks out on the desk of Goodson. A feeling of despair over comes him. There is a rapping at the door to his office.
“Sir,” Elerby looks up and sees Leia Hawthorne standing in the doorway.
“Hawthorne, what can I do for you?” He folds his hands together.
“Any word on Rand?”
“Come in. Shut the door.”
Leia enters the office and shuts the door behind her. She is a little frazzled after the events of the last few weeks. She never knew there were so many different types of freaks within the city limits of Storm City.
“Take a seat.”
Leia gulps. She puts her head in her hands. She begins sobbing.
“Sorry. There’s been no word on Goodson’s whereabouts. Agents Lance and Matthew sent out the Blood Lords to check out a local Church that is believed to be the hotbed for the incubi and succubi. But there was no luck.”
“Where could he be?”
“I do not know, Hawthorne. But I have a bad feeling about this.” Captain Hill says as he rubs the back of his neck. “I have a feeling that this is coming to a head. Nothing good can come of this.”
“I know, sir. I have the same feeling. What if he is forced to do something that we need to take him down for?” Leia asks.
“I have thought of that, too. Let’s hope it does not come to that.” Elerby says. “Let’s hope Goodson is all right. We will find him.”
“I hope you are right, sir.”
“So do I.”

Author Bio:

He is a connoisseur of sci-fi and paranormal films and books. He also lives in Houston with his son.

*Anyone looking for a GREAT editor/beta reader should contact Jessica Sawa (same name on facebook) or at her email: She does excellent work and is even offering specials for Nano pieces!!! Check her out!!!

** Brien O’Raighne has a new book out, Southern Hospitality. Check it out at: Southern Desire is due out the end of 2016!

****Within the past couple months, we've had one of our Authors publish a book in Portuguese as well as English. It was based on a real person, ('Cousin' of the Author) who's life was transformed into a vampire: Christiane de Rocha Rodrigues Perroni. It was such a fun book to write and I really enjoyed every minute of it. Between her and my hubby, they were my muses' and I couldn't have done the books without either of them. Attached is the cover along with the buy link so let me know what you think of it:

 ****Please leave us comments so we know how we're doing! We'd love to hear from you!

Talk to you next month and spread the word!

Keep Writing and Reading folks!
Jodie Pierce