“If you don’t do it, I’m telling everyone at school you’re a chicken!”
There was no backing out. If Eddie didn’t follow through with his dare, then he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his classmates when he returned to school from Fall Break. That was the curse of living in a small town. Everybody knows your business, and once you’ve been ridiculed by one person then everybody else chimes in so they don’t get singled out too.
It never failed. Every year a single high school freshman was chosen to be “initiated” by a group of upper classmen. It just so happened that this was Eddie’s not-so-lucky year.Into the Graveyard
The group of boys stood at the edge of a small plot of land that had long ago been abandoned. On the left side of the land arose the shell of a large, two-story farm-house. The house had been condemned decades before the boys had ever laid eyes on it, but it still stood in disrepair due to the fact that the small township it resided in couldn’t afford the cost of demolition. The right side of the land displayed a very small graveyard that housed the last inhabitants of the farm-house. “Miller Cemetery,” as it had affectionately become known around town, was unanimously deemed the spookiest place in the area, with several ghost stories stemming from the events that led to the family’s demise.
These stories were passed down through the generations, with nobody ever taking the time to confirm the details of what actually occurred, so naturally the tales grew longer and more gruesome with each telling. Continue reading
Is there anything better than laying in a field on the earliest autumn days, soaking up sunshine as the rays warm your face? There’s really not. The serenity of enjoying every second of that moment is unparalleled, which makes the next turn of events in my story even more jarring.
Imagine laying in a field as I just described, only to be ripped from your makeshift bed. Abducted against your will, tossed into the trunk of a random vehicle, and taken to some strange house that you’ve never seen before. My captors don’t even have the decency to take me inside. I get forgotten and neglected for days, left outside in the elements. I can see into the house through a window down the side of the front door. That’s the only way I can keep track of the concept of time. There’s a daily calendar just inside that keeps track of my days. The calendar flips to October, and my mind starts racing. What do they have in store for me?? Then I get some company. On the first of the month, they drop another hostage right next to me. There’s a chill in the air, then they grab my newfound friend and haul him inside. Continue reading
“Yeah, see, it all started when this dame walked into my office, see. Nope, just kidding. This isn’t that kind of detective story. I’m not classy or elegant enough for all that mess.”
The return of Will McGee! He’s toppled an outlaw motorcycle club, crippled a drug distribution ring, and dealt with crushing personal blows along the way. So what do you do when you reach the end of the road? You turn around and ride back where you came from.
When a new black and blue patch begins popping up around Rough River Falls, along with some all-too-familiar faces, Will is confronted by his past. Whether he’s ready for it or not. Throw on a rain suit, because the sunshine is over.
“Get over here dammit!” he says, seething as he rips the car door open.
I’m unclear why he’s so mad at me. It’s not like it was my intent for this to happen. We were both happily driving along, then suddenly something very unfortunate happened. In a split second, we were both resting at a complete stop following an awful mechanical sound.
“Get out here!” He relentlessly yanks me from my seat until I am free of my restraints. The physical abuse begins immediately and I’m unable to even say anything. He drops me to the ground and kicks me until I’m laying halfway under his vehicle. He grabs my arm and begins to crank it around behind my back. He doesn’t stop. He continues this over and over like it’s a bad wrestling move. Wrestling might be fake, but my joints creak in agony from the pressure nonetheless. Continue reading
Invisible. Insubstantial. Non-existent. That’s how you made me feel. I sat outside your window day after day and went unnoticed. Even on the occasion you looked outside, your gaze just cut right through me. I watched you eat breakfast each morning before leaving for your day. I saw you return each night, exhausted, eating whatever random takeout you decided to stop at on your way home, often crashing on the couch without ever stumbling to your bedroom.
I saw the company you kept, and I could always tell who wasn’t right for you. This guy never opened the door for you like any gentleman should. That guy only opened the door so you would walk in front of him and he could stare at your assets. I could spot the lust in his eyes from across your apartment. The other guy was more engaged with his phone than he ever was with your presence. None of them were ever good enough, but you never seemed to notice as quickly as I did. Maybe I was just more observant. Maybe. Certainly.
Shock and pain hit Rusty’s body just as fast as his brain could process it. Bone-jarring hits were nothing new to the demolition derby veteran, but direct hits to his driver’s door were out of the norm, not to mention illegal. He looked to his left and saw the all-too-familiar black and green paint scheme of his rival, Parker. He could clearly make out the stupid looking black, three-quarter helmet that Parker wore because he said it made him look like “The Intimidator.” “Sure, and my butt hair looks like Richard Petty’s mustache,” was Rusty’s response.
For six years, this rivalry had taken shape and become overly bitter. Bitter, mainly because Parker could never quite figure out how to beat Rusty. It started out innocent enough at the LeGrande County Fair. Continue reading
Compendium (noun): a collection of things that have been gathered together and presented as a group especially in the form of a book.
The following short story is in collaboration with Adam K. Moore and is set in the world he created with his first novel, COMPENDIUM TWENTY-THREE: PART I, Through the Valley.
The subsequent companion short stories are meant to enhance and expand that universe in and beyond Independence, Indiana. I strongly encourage you to check out the original story and fully immerse yourself in the battle for good and evil.
“Wake up,” she whispered frantically, shaking her son awake from a deep sleep.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” asked her son, Tommy.
“We have to go. I need you to be a big helper and grab some clothes, okay?” This is not how Caroline anticipated her day starting.
“Why? I don’t want to,” Tommy whined. “I wanna go back to sleep.”
Realistically, nobody expects their day to start this way. The difference is that most people don’t see the movements in the shadows. Most people don’t hear the hushed tones of plans for terror being formulated. However, Caroline is not most people. Continue reading