Saturday, March 18, 2017

Friday, March 3, 2017

I Wished, I See, I Regret




I hate going to the grocery store, I mean really hate it. I just want to stay home, watch TV, and write. Lets be honest. I hate going anywhere. It’s not that I have some weird phobia. I would love if it was that simple. What I have is more sinister. I see how people die. I see people going about their regular lives, totally normal to everyone; but me. I see if it was natural, accident, self inflicted, whatever. I guess I brought it on myself. I use to wish I was a great writer. I wished for years. Then I had a accident. HA, I fell over the dog in the driveway. I woke up 3 days later with a splitting headache and tunnel vision. After a week and a battery of tests, I was fine. If you call this fine, when I see anyone, I see their body as it is when they die. Imagine someone who commits suicide by a gunshot to the head, walking around and interacting with people. No one else see’s it, but I do. I see the hole through the skull, while they make small talk. How about a accident, or disease. This is why I would rather stay home. Thankfully it doesn’t effect TV. Or I would really go crazy. So I stay home. Away from everyone, writing horror and mystery stories. I will admit, it does give me great ideas. Plus the eccentric recluse character makes my work sell better. But it isn’t worth it.

So I go when I have to, always looking at the ground, never making eye contact. I get a buggy, go around the store, then strait to the checkout. Luckily the lines are short at night, night means less people. I put my stuff on the belt as the cashier swipes my items across the scanner as I stare at the floor.

"Did you find everything okay?" she asks casually.


"Mm-hmm," I mumble to the floor. Her voice sounds nice. Pleasant. Curiosity wins over and I glance up. The cashier's head is dented in on the right side, blood streaming out her eye, nose, and ear. Probably a car accident. I snap my gaze back down towards the floor. After I pay, she gives back my change in a hand so mangled I'm surprised it can hold anything. Thanking her, I grab my bags and turn towards the exit.

Walking to the double doors, I see a man in a cowboy hat looking through magazines at the news stand. The skin on his face and hands is the consistency of a marshmallow that fell into a campfire. Burn victim. The older lady running the stand looked normal, except for her left eye and mouth were drooping. Stroke victim.

I get close to the door and see the greeter, a middle aged woman with a deep purple bruise surrounding her neck, her eyes bugged out and bloodshot. Death by hanging. I rush out the door as fast as I can. In my car I finally catch my breath as I lean my forehead on the steering wheel.

After a few minutes I look up and see my familiar reflection in the rear-view mirror: my ashen skin, dilated eyes, with a yellow foam dripping from the corner of my mouth. “Overdose”, I whisper.

Be Careful What You Wish For. Why did I ever wish?

Thursday, February 23, 2017

Departed Cleanup Incorporated

Feb 03; 12:44 PM

Greetings and Salutations, Mrs. Cornish.

We here are delighted in your interest in Departed Cleanup Incorporated, and our many services in resolving your personal outbreak of the departed. We received your email of Feb. 03, 11:51 AM concerning your problem. From the description that was given, you sound like you have a Class 3 outbreak. We offer different packages to accomplish the problem you stated. Our packages for your particular size problem include:

$5000 A comprehensive and through sweep of your property and up to a half mile radius. This includes all buildings from foundation to roof. A complete walk through with companion Z dogs upon completion.

$7000 A complete sweep with emphasis on capture of subjects within a safety limitation up to a half mile radius. This includes all buildings from foundation to roof. A complete walk through with companion Z dogs upon completion.

$3000 A complete biological and physical cleanup of all matter pertaining to your particular situation. A complete walk through upon completing is offered.   

$9000 A comprehensive and through sweep of your property with capture of subjects up to a half mile radius. Plus the complete biological and physical cleanup of all matter pertaining to the situation. Then a complete followup inspection of the area.

In your letter, you requested our custom services involving a comprehensive and through sweep and biological and physical cleanup. There is no need to apologize about ensuring that our measures are capable of the task you request. We ourselves have seen the poor quality of work that fly-by-night operations, while they take your money and run, leaving you with the problem unresolved. For no charge, we'll take a look at what work they did do, and found what can be salvaged. This is something we commonly do, when operating in area with incompetent mismanagement from other firms.

We can assure you that we can quickly create a proper response in the shortest amount of time. We have attached the various plans, along the estimated cost required to pay for these services to this letter. If you wish to add one of these plans or combine plans, please contact one of our local representative who will be on-site within 2 hours of this email to place your order, or to answer any questions you may have. For your convince we are also partnered with other businesses to get your property back into pre-situation standards. A list of these reparable businesses will be enclosed in our evaluation sheet you will receive when your problem is fully resolved. Thank you very much for choosing Departed Cleanup Incorporated - ”Your one stop shop for the end of your Departed problem.”

Sincerely

Mr. R. Yendor
Owner and CEO, Departed Cleanup Incorporated

Paw-Paw’s Journal

Moe sat in his small home office looking down at 2 old army ammo boxes. These were his paw-paws that just recently died and was left to him. Moe is a bibliophile, like his paw paw was, they were more concerned with quality over quantity. Rare first editions and antiquated tomes on geology, science and phrenology. Signed copies by authors which would bring a handsome sum were they ever sold.


Packed away carefully in refurbished World War II ammo crates, a... testament to his service, the books slowly revealed themselves and Moe silently thanked his forefather for what he thought was his final gift to him. At the bottom of the last crate Moe found a small leather ledger. Seated on the floor of his small office, a half empty bottle of bourbon on the table and volume after volume of Paw-paw’s books, now his. Sitting inside a semicircle of old books on the floor, Moe slowly opened the small book.
The pages were yellowed and stained in places and were filled with a neat script. Always a meticulous man, it seemed Paw-paw had a bit of a morbid streak as well, for each entry was dated and contained a description of one of his kills from the war. It seemed as though each and every death he caused was listed therein. Included were his impressions of each one, a brief description of the event as it transpired and what weapons he used from his M1 rifle to his 1911 pistol, bayonet or rock and even a few detailed descriptions of hand to hand combat which Moe rather enjoyed.


As he read through his dark and twisted account of war he was struck by the matter-of-factness of it, the clinical way in which the details were recorded. And then Moe was surprised by something else. The dates extended well beyond the war and, though less in volume, the killings were recorded up to a few years ago. Moe placed the old ledger down, took a large swallow of bourbon, and then sat there in silence for quite some time. Many of Paw-paw’s killings were cold cases he recognized from news reports. Moe got up and placed the ledger in his safe next to his own clandestine little ledger. Because it was nice to know that Moe wasn’t an anomaly in his family. It was nice to know that Paw-paw saw enough of himself in Moe to give him that final wonderful gift.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AmdofbuonCU

Only Once upon a Time

“Bring it, you woolly fleabag!” Little Red shouted at the wolf, low crouching in a half-circle. The huge wolf regarded her in the shadows of the trees, hunger glinting in his yellow eyes. He slowly straitened, looming over her. A low growl escaped his muzzle and one fang showed beneath a curled lip. He paused before her, letting her see him fully.


“I’m going to take you.” His voice was a rasp, deep and resonant.


“Where to wolf?” Red replied defiantly.


“Foolish girl, I mean to eat you”, snarled the wolf.


They stood in the clearing, the bright of the sun breaking through the trees. Red had stopped here on her journey to rest, when the wolf appeared.
She leapt across the clearing in a high arc, hitting the wolf square in the shoulder with a sudden kick, sending him tumbling backwards. Red’s hood was blown back as she jumped, revealing a long braid of shiny red hair.
The wolf scrambled up after the kick; bark, leaves, and dirt spraying behind him. He delivered a paw strike to her arm, her body spinning with the impact. He howled as he hit her, the ground shaking with rage. She countered with a combination of a lightning fast kicks and a swinging punch to his snout. The big wolf toppling over, landing with a hard thud on his back.


“You messed with the wrong woman today! I’m tired, I’m hungry, my feet hurt from walking all day and I’M NOT IN THE MOOD TO GET EATEN!” she shouted.


A silver dagger emerged from within the folds of her crimson riding hood, the wolf countering with a wide slap with is huge paw. The knife spun off into the darkness of the underbrush, out of her reach. Red spun and dropped, the force of the wolf’s strike sending her sprawling. The wolf towered over her, slowly raising one ferociously sharp paw to strike her and end it.
“You may think you’ve bested the only woman in the forest, wolf” she said. “But you forgot one thing. “


“What’s that?” the wolf growled.


“Grandma.” Red replied through smiling lips.


As soon as Red said this, Grandma landed on the great wolf’s muscular back, bellowing with rage and righteous vengeance. She dug her long fingernails into his eyes and down to tear open his cheek. She pulled a long, worn blade from her knitted shawl and drew it across the wolf’s throat then plunging into the side, a bright arterial arc jetting from his lacerated neck.
WEEKS LATER


“I’ve simply no idea what I’m going to wear to market today, honey. It’s absolutely chilly out.” said Grandma, stirring her tea. Her and Red sat around the table inside the small cottage where she lived.


“I have a notion, Grandma”, replied Red.


“What’s that, darling?” Grandma asked.


Red lifted a large, shaggy brownish black pelt from the peg behind her chair and offered it up to her Grandma. “Wear wolf”, Red said with a gleam of charm.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2KpxAipOzFA

Sunday, February 19, 2017

Summer Job




I started working at Barry M. Deep Memorial Cemetery in wonderful town of Present, when I was just a small lad. I was what you call a lawn boy. I mowed the grass the caretaker told me to, removed the dead flowers that were scattered on many sites, and picked up the trash and other detritus left by mourners.


I remember my first day, I was bright eyed and ready to please my boss. This was my first job where I actually earned a paycheck. It was all yes sir and no sir. He seemed satisfied with the work I had done as we walked together between the tomb stones at the end of the day. Mack was not as tough or sinister as he looked. He became a well spring of wisdom. One day we were in the older part of the cemetery walking along when he surprised me with a rare “Ask me anything”.


My mind raced, here was a man with many years of experiences. Finally I said, "Do you have any scary stories?"


"Scary stories? Well when the goths show up in the middle of the night, it can be quite scary, not for me, but for them," he began chuckling, "There's nothing more fun than seeing pasty-white teenagers running for their life."


With a smile I ask, "What did you do to them?"


"All in good time, if you stick around, I'll let you know." Mack joked.


"So, nothing paranormal then?" I continue to dig.


"Here take this," the wise caretaker said, handing me a lunch box, "Let's sit."


I sat down on the grass next to the headstone and took out a sandwich.
"This grave here is unique. Underneath the six feet of dirt lies Dr Legendre. He was buried in a security coffin. You see those two pipes over here," Mack said pointing.


I nodded.  "The first one, that used to be a bell. The idea being, if you were buried alive, you could pull on a cord and the bell would ring. And in theory, someone would come running and you'd be dug out."


He took out a cigar, and lit it. "Two days after Dr Legendre was buried, the caretaker heard the ringing of the bell and began digging. It was an hour before the he and two others got to the coffin. When they pried it open, all that was found was the stagnant decomposing body of the doctor."


He dragged on the cigar and blew out a large plume of smoke. "They filled in the hole and went about their business. A couple of days later the bell rang again. The caretaker approached, but this time he didn't alert anyone, he took out his shears and cut the bell wire, scared of what was causing it to still ring."


I stared at the old copper tube, its patina betraying its age.  "Over the coming weeks he heard screams and frantic howls coming from the ground beneath his feet. He hoped it would stop, but it never did. He finally decided to drop some food down the second tube, and the shrieking stopped. That one over there," he said, nodding to a shorter copper pipe about a feet from where I sat. 


The other pipe had a small pointed lid on the top, to keep out the rain and other debris. It was a inch bigger in diameter than the other tube.
"He noticed that after a feeding, it was quiet for a few days. And so, he fed him every other day until he died.", Mack added looking out over the grounds drawing in old memories.


"Who was the caretaker back then?" I asked inquisitively.


He stood up, dropped his cigar and stubbed it out with his boot. "My granddad," he responded, "Make sure you clean that up," he said pointing to the cigar.


Shocked I asked, "When was the last time someone put food in there?"


Mack grinned and turned to walk away. Over his shoulder he said, "Yesterday. If I were you, I'd share half of that sandwich."


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n8Jtek-jZhQ

Monday, January 23, 2017

Good Sound Advice


“I just want to be like everybody else! Is that too much to ask?!” the little boy sat with tears in his eyes.
The little boy broke down. He covered his burnt face with his scarred burnt hands and sobbed long and hard until his delicate and small body was heaving.
...
A man in a dark suit stared at him for a long second. “It’s not often I feel this much sympathy or pity for my clients. but this little fellow truly was a victim of circumstances.” he said.
A random kitchen fire resulted in burns on his lovely little face, upper body and both arms. The man got up out of his chair, walked around the table to the young visitor, slowly he kneeled down to his level. He looked at him, his snot and tears mixing together. You could see the man inwardly winced. The child said the accident happened a year ago. The scars are what his body will look like now.
The kid spoke again, his voice was racked with tears and sobs. “The kids at school, they either laugh at me or stay away from me. I scare everybody, I even scare myself. I can’t look in the mirror. PLEASE HELP ME!” He grabbed the mans arm.
The man patted the scared bald spot on his head where hair would never grow again and smiled at him. “I’m afraid I can’t really help you with your scars. They are going to be there till the day you die, young man. I’m sorry” he said.
The boy wailed as the man continued, “All I can do is give you some advice to help you with your new life.”
The child gave me a bitter sad laugh. It was a laugh that was way too old for him. “Let me guess, you’re gonna tell I should be grateful to be alive and when I get older I’ll be accepted for who I am. Heard it all before, old man.”
The man smirked and shook my head. “Not at all and whoever told you that doesn’t understand the pain you’re going through.” he replied.
The little boy began wiping his eyes, the worst of the sorrowful crying had passed. The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter.
“You can never really be like the other children ever again. But maybe,” the man smiled and gave him a wink. “You can make them all a little bit like you.”
He held out his lighter to boy. The boy took it.