Category Archives: Fiction Friday

Fiction Friday: Quick Fic

07 Friday Jan 2022

Posted by in Fiction, Fiction Friday, Quickie Fiction

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Going to try to make this a habit. But I’m not making any promises. We know how I do.
Created using Canva

The fog was so thick you could practically cut it with a knife. Normal lights afforded you some visibility but brights turned the fog into a bright white wall of nothing that followed five feet in front of you as you drove.

So I kept my driving lights on avoiding brights despite my desire to improve visibility. The still lingering clouds turned what should have been early morning light into darkness, at least what I could tell through the fog.

Once in a while I passed a street light. It illuminated the rock wall, guardrails, and pavement. But it’s light couldn’t pierce further than the small area below it.

It had been raining for days, sometimes a drizzle sometimes a mist. But mostly just a downpour so heavy your wipers couldn’t keep up. But it had stopped long enough for there to be a few dry patches here and there.

There weren’t many other vehicles on the road aside from mine. As early as it was, on the weekend nonetheless, no one in their right mind would be out if they didn’t have to be. I would have much preferred a warm bed as opposed to a long dark damp road.

No, one wouldn’t expect another soul to be on these roads. but here I was traveling unhappily to work. I was admittedly tired, a little distracted by the thought of all I had to do. That and the fog was why I didn’t see it at first.

I’d been looking at the road ahead, as one should, and I glanced down for a moment to check my speed. It was that split second it took my mind to register what I’d seen, and look back up that startled me.

It’d been much further when I first saw it. A dark figure in the foggy distance. Backlit by a streetlight, just enough to make out a vaguely human shape. And it stood in the middle of the road.

I slammed on the breaks, the truck tires squealing on the asphalt, a wet spot on the road caused slight fishtailing. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and opened them.

I expected to see whatever it was bathed in the glow of my headlights, or worse, splayed across the hood of my truck, despite hearing no sound of the sort. But instead, I saw nothing.

I blinked a few times, rubbed the sleep from my eyelids, and squinted into the thick fog.

There it was. Further ahead than where I’d imaged, despite the distance I’d traveled. It was as if it’d leapt ahead of me. But it was still there. Lingering.

I took a deep breath, composed myself, then let off the breaks and hit the gas, slower this time. I kept an eye on the road and an eye on the thing in front. As I drove it seems to remain just at the edge of the fog, as if it were moving along with me.

So I tested it. I picked up speed, so did it. When I slowed, it did too. And unlike most objects, when you were moving toward it in the distance that “grew” in size as you got closer, this did not. It remained the same size.

I slowed to a complete stop in the middle of the road, staring at it. I knew I only had about another mile and a half until I reached my destination, with one turn off. Until this point it has been a relatively straight stretch.

So I floored it.

I didn’t even think about it when I did it. Just put my foot in the gas abs gave it my all. The revved and the tires squealed again as I peeled out.

I wanted to see it move. To catch up with it. Wanted it to get bigger as I got closer. It did nothing. Until I looked away.

A porch light had come on, perhaps awoken by the roaring of my engine and squealing of tires and I glanced quickly toward the light, my attention drawn, and then back.

And there it was, ten feet in front of me, still black as nothingness, still backlit by… nothing.

I slammed on the brakes once again, almost locking them up, jerking the truck to a sudden stop. I should have been within feet of hitting it—had I wanted to hit it?—but when I opened my eyes, it was gone again.

I looked for it ahead of me. It had been maintaining its position in the middle of the road, this time when it leapt ahead it had practically flown away. I did not see it go, nor where it might have went. But it was gone.

People were looking out their windows now. I’d made it into downtown without realizing it. My abnormally reckless driving had woken some residents from their dreary morning slumber. And it had begun to look like morning. Sunlight was peaking trough breaks in clouds.

Perhaps the rain was done. Perhaps the sun would come out today. Perhaps the dark figure looming ahead had left to confuse and bewilder another unfortunate soul.

Either way, I was going to be late.

Thanks for reading!

-C

If you liked this, you might like this one too!

If Words Could Kill: Episode Three

15 Friday Apr 2016

Posted by in Episode Three, Fiction, Fiction Friday, If Words Could Kill

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“Maize Runner”

Since finally selling her house and officially moving closer to work, Betsy Collins only came back into town on special occasions. Though she hand many friends and family in the hills that would always be home, she worked long hours and didn’t like the drive.

But the season had finally turned to fall, and the cool, crisp autumn air had already begun to ring in what was Betsy’s favorite time of year. The haunting hour was upon her eastern Kentucky home, and with it haunted houses, spooky trail rides, and—best of all—corn mazes.

Yes, there was nothing like a good jump scare to break in the season, and one of her favorite corn mazes was set to open the coming weekend.

Betsy happened to have the weekend off, so she texted her friend and fellow maze runner Sandy and they set the date and time. When the Friday finally came she drove herself happily to their designated meeting spot, where they’d both hop into her car and hit the road.

Walmart, where she used to work and where her friend still did, was a welcoming little store, with many of her formal coworkers still employed there.

“Well, hey Betsy!” Crystal shouted from an isle over. She came around the corner suddenly, giving Betsy an unintentional scare. “Oop. Sorry!”

Betsy smiled, “It’s okay. How you been?”

“I’m good! Even better since I’m about to clock out!” Crystal gave her a thumbs up. “What are you doing back in town?”

“Meeting Sandy,” she said, were going to the corn maze! “Have you seen her?”

“Actually no, I haven’t. I could page her for ya. Bet she’d love that!”

“Ha, she would. But I’ll just text her, I’m sure she’s on her way. I’ll see you later!”

They said their goodbyes and Crystal walked off toward clock out glory, while Betsy pulled out her phone. She typed up a quick message telling her where she was and hit send. She walked around the store making unconscious comparisons as she waited for her friend to respond.

After a few minutes, her cell dinged and she pulled it back out of her pocket. “I’m walking in now!” It read.

Betsy responded with “I’ll meet you on the front end.”

A moment later they both walked out the front exit chatting happily about the evenings plans.

When they finally arrived at the corn maze, the place was crowded. The lights were bright enough to hide the fact that the sun was just starting to set. There was a distinct clamor of voices as groups of people walked through the field that was turned into a grassy parking lot during the season. It was obvious that it was the first night and this maze was a big deal.

“You think we should have waited until the new wore off?” Sandy asked? “It kind of reminds me of the first of the month.”

“Nah,” Betsy shrugged. “More people to help us find our way out if we get turned around.” She laughed. They never got lost. Besides the fact that maps were handed out at the beginning “only if you need them”, they both were pretty good with finding their way.

The lines were long but conversation was good. Betsy and Sandy talked about the usual things—work and kids—and they got pulled into conversation about past turns around the maze. “They say this year is supposed to be bigger and scarier!” Someone said.

“I don’t really need scarier,” Betsy said. “I just need something interesting! These things are never boring!”

“That’s true,” the gentleman said. “But this one has always been my favorite! They do an awesome job, every year!” Many in line agreed, and conversation continued as the line moved in.

It was quite a wait, as always at the start of the season, but it was usually well worth it. When they finally reached the ticket booth, the people in line grew quiet in anticipation as small groups were allowed in five or six at a time. Betsy and Sandy paid for their tickets and got their maps, which they both folded up neatly and places in pockets. They would use them unless they had too.

Finally, after watching a group go before them, they were next in line and waited anxiously. Betsy checked her cell, putting it on silent—she didn’t want to get distracted and lost—and put it deep into her pocket so it didn’t slip out.

Finally after waiting for what seemed to be forever, the attendant removed the chain from the entrance and motioned them through. Being adults, it would look childish for the two of them to rush in, grinning and giggling like gleeful children. So they fought back the desire and stepped over what Betsy imagined as the threshold between worlds.

It was Sandy, Betsy, and four of the people in line behind them, who’d they’d been talking to while waiting. Though they became friendly, they didn’t stop to linger. It was now every man for himself. Betsy and Sandy went off in the same direction, while the rest went their own ways. While they hoped to stay together, neither lady would be offended by separation.

Excited and scared—but just the right amount of scared—Betsy walked the maze carefully and cautiously looking around the corners expected to be surprised by one cleverly placed sight or another. Knowing full well the operators of the Autumn attraction were good at scaring people, she was expecting something to pop out at her at any moment.

Walking slowly around corners, hand hovering over the pocket where she’d stashed her copy of the maze map, Betsy turned right, glanced down a dead end, then walked on. A few steps past, she paused, then back tracked to look down the isle. “Hmm. I thought I saw,” she said aloud, then shook her head.

“Betsy!” She jumped when she heard Sandy call out her name. Her friend came around the corner and saw her standing there. “Keep up!”

“I thought I saw someone standing down there.” She glanced down the narrow dead end then looked back at Sandy. “I think my mind is trying to scare itself.” Betsy laughed and the two walked on.

A few minutes later, the two got separated again, as Betsy checked every corner looking for something to jump out at her. It seemed a little odd to her that nothing had happened yet. She turned a corner and finally got what she had be waiting for. Around a corner and almost in the path through the maze stood a eight foot tall grizzly looking scarecrow, complete with fake crows—wings outstretched as if about to take flight—staring at her with their fake black eyes. Betsy and Sandy both jumped and screamed in surprised, laughing it off as they caught their breath. They continued on, more on their toes than ever.

Walking on, they passed a long narrow corridor that ended in another dead end. But as they passed, Betsy did a double take. She stopped, turned back, and looked down the corridor again. There was something at the end. Glancing back to see Sandy rounding a corner and disappearing, she shrugged as her curiosity got the best of her. She walked down the corridor, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Turning on the flashlight feature, she looked up and shined its light toward the dead end.

What she saw there gave her a scare she wasn’t expecting. The tall masked man, head rising almost above the height of the maze, stood perfectly motionless, holding what appeared to be a machete. Black holes where his eyes should have been were empty and cold. Betsy stopped the scream that threatened to escape her throat and laughed at her surprise. “They really like to scare people!” She laughed again and backed out of the corridor, putting her phone back in her pocket as she did so.

Realizing she’d lost track of Sandy, she shrugged, and moved on, knowing she’d catch up to her eventually, or meet her at the end.

Passing a floating sheet hung to look like a ghost here, a gauze wrapped mannequin meant to be a mummy there, along with other sights meant to frighten, Betsy began to enjoy her trip through the corn maze. Until she began to think that she’d been there a little longer than she should have been. “There’s gotta be an end here somewhere.” She told herself. She put her hand in the pocket that held the map, not willing to admit defeat just yet, but willing to use the cheat sheet if necessary. She turned a corner and came face to face with a giant spider. It was made out of a haystack and foam pool noodles painted black. More frustrated that scared, the sight surprised her, and she groaned.

Pulling the map out of her pocket, she unfolded it and looked it over. She looked up from the sheet and looked around, trying to find her place. She spun around to see what she could see. She turned a full circle and looked back down at the map. When she looked back up she nearly jumped out of her skin. There stood, once again. The masked figure, machete still in hand. “What the—“ she whispered to herself.

Betsy backed up slowly, not letting her eyes leave the figure with the empty black eyes. She backed up until she came to a corner and turned around it. This time she ran. Ducking and dodging around corners and walls of corn maze and awkwardly placed scarecrows and jack-o-lantern headed frights. Finally she stopped to take a breath, panting, thinking. “These things are never live action.” She told herself. “Maybe they’re really trying to outdo themselves.” She opened up her hand, where she’d crumpled the map up in a death grip. Flattening it out as best she could she looked over it to try, once more to get her bearings.

She looked behind herself, placed a maze wall to her back—hoping to not be surprised again—and looked around at her surroundings and the map in her hand. The maze on the paper had been left unsolved on purpose, that was the fun of it. So she attempted to solve it herself, so she would know her way out when the time came. She then looked to see where she might be on it.

Getting frustrated and confused—she couldn’t seem to find her location—she sighed and pulled out her phone. “Best call for assistance.” She unlocked her phone and searched for Sandy’s number in her contacts list. She tapped the name and hit the dial button. It connected within moments—she paid for good service—and was ringing. She listened as it rang, and rang, and rang. She looked up when she realized she was hearing the actual phone ring, and not the sound coming from her own phone. The ringing was getting closer when it stopped.

“Please be Sandy.” Betsy whispered. Watching in the direction the sound had been coming from, she started to scream when out stepped the empty eyed masked man.

He walked slowly closer, and Betsy realized she’d backed herself into a corner. The only way out of the corner was past the man with the machete. He was walking slowly, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t chase her. But she couldn’t stay there. His slow pace was unnerving, and she had to do something.

She dropped her phone, took a deep breath, and darted out of the corner, seeing the nearest exit to his right, and, intending to give him a wide berth, she dove around him. But she wasn’t quick enough. His large hand darted out, grasping her by the shoulder, slamming her on the ground. She hit hard on her back knocking the breath out of her. She huffed and puffed, trying to get her breath back as she backed away from the man standing over her. She’d made little progress when he stepped over her, his figure blocking out the light from the risen moon. The expressionless mask with dark empty eyes looked down at her. She began to scream when he raised the machete over his head and swung down, quick and hard.

…

Sandy had waited long enough at the end of the maze when she finally pulled the attendant over. “My friend is still in there.” She told him.

“How long has it been? How long has she been in there?” He asked, reaching for the radio on his hip.

“Since we went in? I don’t know, an hour? More? She’s usually pretty good at these. She’s never gotten lost.” She checked her pocket, meaning to call Betsy and help her find her way out. But she patted the pocket in vain. “I must have dropped my phone…” She trailed off all the more nervous.

The attendant said nothing more to her. Instead he radioed out to an unknown person, “Someone’s lost.” Was all he said. Within minutes a group of people had gathered, maps in hand and and flashlights at the ready. Sandy insisted on following as they searched the maze.

A few minutes in, Sandy found her phone dirty with a cracked screen, in the middle of a path leading to a dead end. Despite the crack, she could see a missed call from Betsy, and she quickly called the number back. It only rang.

Ten minutes in, with Sandy repeatedly calling Betsy’s unanswered phone, the leader of the group stopped. “Do you hear that?” He asked. It was a ringing sound.

“It’s her phone!” Sandy called out. She redialed the number when it went to voicemail, knowing Betsy was rarely without her phone. The group followed the sound as it grew closer and closer.

When the group stopped suddenly, someone said, “Was… Was that there before?” They each looked up to see a masked figure hanging from a pole, black empty eyes crying tears of blood.

If Words Could Kill Ep3

Since finally selling her house and officially moving closer to work, Betsy Collins only came back into town on special occasions. Though she hand many friends and family in the hills that would always be home, she worked long hours and didn’t like the drive.

But the season had finally turned to fall, and the cool, crisp autumn air had already begun to ring in what was Betsy’s favorite time of year. The haunting hour was upon her eastern Kentucky home, and with it haunted houses, spooky trail rides, and—best of all—corn mazes.

Yes, there was nothing like a good jump scare to break in the season, and one of her favorite corn mazes was set to open the coming weekend.

Betsy happened to have the weekend off, so she texted her friend and fellow maze runner Sandy and they set the date and time. When the Friday finally came she drove herself happily to their designated meeting spot, where they’d both hop into her car and hit the road.

Walmart, where she used to work and where her friend still did, was a welcoming little store, with many of her formal coworkers still employed there.

“Well, hey Betsy!” Crystal shouted from an isle over. She came around the corner suddenly, giving Betsy an unintentional scare. “Oop. Sorry!”

Betsy smiled, “It’s okay. How you been?”

“I’m good! Even better since I’m about to clock out!” Crystal gave her a thumbs up. “What are you doing back in town?”

“Meeting Sandy,” she said, were going to the corn maze! “Have you seen her?”

“Actually no, I haven’t. I could page her for ya. Bet she’d love that!”

“Ha, she would. But I’ll just text her, I’m sure she’s on her way. I’ll see you later!”

They said their goodbyes and Crystal walked off toward clock out glory, while Betsy pulled out her phone. She typed up a quick message telling her where she was and hit send. She walked around the store making unconscious comparisons as she waited for her friend to respond.

After a few minutes, her cell dinged and she pulled it back out of her pocket. “I’m walking in now!” It read.

Betsy responded with “I’ll meet you on the front end.”

A moment later they both walked out the front exit chatting happily about the evenings plans.

When they finally arrived at the corn maze, the place was crowded. The lights were bright enough to hide the fact that the sun was just starting to set. There was a distinct clamor of voices as groups of people walked through the field that was turned into a grassy parking lot during the season. It was obvious that it was the first night and this maze was a big deal.

“You think we should have waited until the new wore off?” Sandy asked? “It kind of reminds me of the first of the month.”

“Nah,” Betsy shrugged. “More people to help us find our way out if we get turned around.” She laughed. They never got lost. Besides the fact that maps were handed out at the beginning “only if you need them”, they both were pretty good with finding their way.

The lines were long but conversation was good. Betsy and Sandy talked about the usual things—work and kids—and they got pulled into conversation about past turns around the maze. “They say this year is supposed to be bigger and scarier!” Someone said.

“I don’t really need scarier,” Betsy said. “I just need something interesting! These things are never boring!”

“That’s true,” the gentleman said. “But this one has always been my favorite! They do an awesome job, every year!” Many in line agreed, and conversation continued as the line moved in.

It was quite a wait, as always at the start of the season, but it was usually well worth it. When they finally reached the ticket booth, the people in line grew quiet in anticipation as small groups were allowed in five or six at a time. Betsy and Sandy paid for their tickets and got their maps, which they both folded up neatly and places in pockets. They would use them unless they had too.

Finally, after watching a group go before them, they were next in line and waited anxiously. Betsy checked her cell, putting it on silent—she didn’t want to get distracted and lost—and put it deep into her pocket so it didn’t slip out.

Finally after waiting for what seemed to be forever, the attendant removed the chain from the entrance and motioned them through. Being adults, it would look childish for the two of them to rush in, grinning and giggling like gleeful children. So they fought back the desire and stepped over what Betsy imagined as the threshold between worlds.

It was Sandy, Betsy, and four of the people in line behind them, who’d they’d been talking to while waiting. Though they became friendly, they didn’t stop to linger. It was now every man for himself. Betsy and Sandy went off in the same direction, while the rest went their own ways. While they hoped to stay together, neither lady would be offended by separation.

Excited and scared—but just the right amount of scared—Betsy walked the maze carefully and cautiously looking around the corners expected to be surprised by one cleverly placed sight or another. Knowing full well the operators of the Autumn attraction were good at scaring people, she was expecting something to pop out at her at any moment.

Walking slowly around corners, hand hovering over the pocket where she’d stashed her copy of the maze map, Betsy turned right, glanced down a dead end, then walked on. A few steps past, she paused, then back tracked to look down the isle. “Hmm. I thought I saw,” she said aloud, then shook her head.

“Betsy!” She jumped when she heard Sandy call out her name. Her friend came around the corner and saw her standing there. “Keep up!”

“I thought I saw someone standing down there.” She glanced down the narrow dead end then looked back at Sandy. “I think my mind is trying to scare itself.” Betsy laughed and the two walked on.

A few minutes later, the two got separated again, as Betsy checked every corner looking for something to jump out at her. It seemed a little odd to her that nothing had happened yet. She turned a corner and finally got what she had be waiting for. Around a corner and almost in the path through the maze stood a eight foot tall grizzly looking scarecrow, complete with fake crows—wings outstretched as if about to take flight—staring at her with their fake black eyes. Betsy and Sandy both jumped and screamed in surprised, laughing it off as they caught their breath. They continued on, more on their toes than ever.

Walking on, they passed a long narrow corridor that ended in another dead end. But as they passed, Betsy did a double take. She stopped, turned back, and looked down the corridor again. There was something at the end. Glancing back to see Sandy rounding a corner and disappearing, she shrugged as her curiosity got the best of her. She walked down the corridor, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Turning on the flashlight feature, she looked up and shined its light toward the dead end.

What she saw there gave her a scare she wasn’t expecting. The tall masked man, head rising almost above the height of the maze, stood perfectly motionless, holding what appeared to be a machete. Black holes where his eyes should have been were empty and cold. Betsy stopped the scream that threatened to escape her throat and laughed at her surprise. “They really like to scare people!” She laughed again and backed out of the corridor, putting her phone back in her pocket as she did so.

Realizing she’d lost track of Sandy, she shrugged, and moved on, knowing she’d catch up to her eventually, or meet her at the end.

Passing a floating sheet hung to look like a ghost here, a gauze wrapped mannequin meant to be a mummy there, along with other sights meant to frighten, Betsy began to enjoy her trip through the corn maze. Until she began to think that she’d been there a little longer than she should have been. “There’s gotta be an end here somewhere.” She told herself. She put her hand in the pocket that held the map, not willing to admit defeat just yet, but willing to use the cheat sheet if necessary. She turned a corner and came face to face with a giant spider. It was made out of a haystack and foam pool noodles painted black. More frustrated that scared, the sight surprised her, and she groaned.

Pulling the map out of her pocket, she unfolded it and looked it over. She looked up from the sheet and looked around, trying to find her place. She spun around to see what she could see. She turned a full circle and looked back down at the map. When she looked back up she nearly jumped out of her skin. There stood, once again. The masked figure, machete still in hand. “What the—“ she whispered to herself.

Betsy backed up slowly, not letting her eyes leave the figure with the empty black eyes. She backed up until she came to a corner and turned around it. This time she ran. Ducking and dodging around corners and walls of corn maze and awkwardly placed scarecrows and jack-o-lantern headed frights. Finally she stopped to take a breath, panting, thinking. “These things are never live action.” She told herself. “Maybe they’re really trying to outdo themselves.” She opened up her hand, where she’d crumpled the map up in a death grip. Flattening it out as best she could she looked over it to try, once more to get her bearings.

She looked behind herself, placed a maze wall to her back—hoping to not be surprised again—and looked around at her surroundings and the map in her hand. The maze on the paper had been left unsolved on purpose, that was the fun of it. So she attempted to solve it herself, so she would know her way out when the time came. She then looked to see where she might be on it.

Getting frustrated and confused—she couldn’t seem to find her location—she sighed and pulled out her phone. “Best call for assistance.” She unlocked her phone and searched for Sandy’s number in her contacts list. She tapped the name and hit the dial button. It connected within moments—she paid for good service—and was ringing. She listened as it rang, and rang, and rang. She looked up when she realized she was hearing the actual phone ring, and not the sound coming from her own phone. The ringing was getting closer when it stopped.

“Please be Sandy.” Betsy whispered. Watching in the direction the sound had been coming from, she started to scream when out stepped the empty eyed masked man.

He walked slowly closer, and Betsy realized she’d backed herself into a corner. The only way out of the corner was past the man with the machete. He was walking slowly, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t chase her. But she couldn’t stay there. His slow pace was unnerving, and she had to do something.

She dropped her phone, took a deep breath, and darted out of the corner, seeing the nearest exit to his right, and, intending to give him a wide berth, she dove around him. But she wasn’t quick enough. His large hand darted out, grasping her by the shoulder, slamming her on the ground. She hit hard on her back knocking the breath out of her. She huffed and puffed, trying to get her breath back as she backed away from the man standing over her. She’d made little progress when he stepped over her, his figure blocking out the light from the risen moon. The expressionless mask with dark empty eyes looked down at her. She began to scream when he raised the machete over his head and swung down, quick and hard.

…

Sandy had waited long enough at the end of the maze when she finally pulled the attendant over. “My friend is still in there.” She told him.

“How long has it been? How long has she been in there?” He asked, reaching for the radio on his hip.

“Since we went in? I don’t know, an hour? More? She’s usually pretty good at these. She’s never gotten lost.” She checked her pocket, meaning to call Betsy and help her find her way out. But she patted the pocket in vain. “I must have dropped my phone…” She trailed off all the more nervous.

The attendant said nothing more to her. Instead he radioed out to an unknown person, “Someone’s lost.” Was all he said. Within minutes a group of people had gathered, maps in hand and and flashlights at the ready. Sandy insisted on following as they searched the maze.

A few minutes in, Sandy found her phone dirty with a cracked screen, in the middle of a path leading to a dead end. Despite the crack, she could see a missed call from Betsy, and she quickly called the number back. It only rang.

Ten minutes in, with Sandy repeatedly calling Betsy’s unanswered phone, the leader of the group stopped. “Do you hear that?” He asked. It was a ringing sound.

“It’s her phone!” Sandy called out. She redialed the number when it went to voicemail, knowing Betsy was rarely without her phone. The group followed the sound as it grew closer and closer.

When the group stopped suddenly, someone said, “Was… Was that there before?” They each looked up to see a masked figure hanging from a pole, black empty eyes crying tears of blood.

If Words Could Kill: Episode Two

26 Saturday Mar 2016

Posted by in Episode Two, Fiction, Fiction Friday, If Words Could Kill

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“Raising Kane”

“You know, Kane,” Mary began while chopping vegetables for dinner. “I was going to say no. But I think I made the right call!” She looked at Kane who lay on the cool tile of the kitchen floor. He tilted his head and barked once in agreement. She smiled at the pup and continued her meal prep.

Her neighbors, the Parkers’, the wealthiest family in their small town, had asked her a month ago to house sit while they are gone on their two week vacation to Aspen. Mary had at first been reluctant, but they offered to match whatever her retail job would have paid her. They also have her free reign over the sprawling home. They also told her she could bring her dog, and eat, drink, or use whatever she wanted. “Just don’t destroy or steal anything!” Mrs. Parker joked as she closed the door behind her as they left that morning.

And so Mary and Kane had the huge house to themselves. The first night was almost through and Mary had finished her dinner and fed Kane. “What to do now,” Mary wondered aloud as Kane retuned from his bathroom break. She closed and locked the door behind him, setting the alarm as she’d been instructed. The dog yawned and stretched and stared at her, as if waiting for his cue.

Mary climbed the large spiral staircase toward the bedroom she’d left her things in, Kane close behind. When she opened the double doors to the bedroom and gazed upon the massive feather bed, she sighed. “To bad we can’t just stay here forever, right boy?” He nuzzled his face against her head and she scratched him behind the ears.

Out of curiosity she walked to the adjacent bathroom. “As large as the bedroom is, the bathroom must be epic!” She thought. She was not wrong.

Not only was there double sinks, and an enormous glass door tiled shower but, and this the best of all, a large claw foot, soaking tub. “Oh my,” Mary thought. “I’ve always wanted one of those.” She suddenly pictures herself reading the historical romance novel she’d packed, while soaking in that very welcoming tub.

“Maybe tomorrow night, she told herself.

Instead, she threw in her pjs, propped herself up on the soft pillows, and pulled out that book. Kane curled up at the foot of the bed and made himself comfortable as she prepared to read herself to sleep.

[…]

Outside the summer air was still and quiet. No noise save for the sound of a gentle breeze sweeping through the trees surrounding the estate. Few lights downstairs shine through the many windows, piercing the darkness.

Placed at every entrance and at each corner were motion detecting lights, always in guard and ready to detect all movement. About an hour after Mary and Kane drifted off, a single light suddenly glowed in the darkness.

[…]

Mary was startled out of her dream by the barking of a dog. It took her a moment to remember where she was. When it hit her, she looked around and saw Kane, who stood defensively and at alert, growling at what seemed to be nothing. “Kane?” She climbed out of bed, rubbing her eyes and pushing her glasses in her face. “What is it? You need to use the bathroom?”

She opened the door to the bedroom and he rushed out, barking frantically, before she could catch him. She rushed down the carpeted stairs in her sock feet, trying not to slide as she went. When she found Kane at the patio doors he was staring into the darkness, a low growl pouring from his muzzle. The sound have Mary chills. She’d never heard it from him. She looked out into the night, trying to see what he saw, with no such luck.

“It was probably just a dream, bud.” She scratched his ears to try and calm him. He shook her off, ignoring her, and continued to stare and growl.

Not knowing what to do, wondering if he was sick, maybe, she sat down at the nearby table and watched him. After a few minutes she picked up her cell and texted a friend for comfort. Explaining what happened. “He probably got spooked is all.” Crystal responded. “My dogs bark at the wind, and Kane’s in an unusual place. Just woke up from a dream, and confused him.”

Mary thanked her friend and told her goodnight. Kane was still staring out the door, no sign of movement in sight. “Alright, dude. I’m going back to bed.” She turned toward the stairs, phone in hand, but before she took her first step, Kane’s barking commenced. It was loud and frightening, nearly scared Mary into falling. Her phone slipped from her hand, landing on the stairs.

“Kane!” She yelled. “Kane stop!” She walked to him, reaching out to try to pull him away by the collar, but he was defensive and distracted. He snapped at her, paying little attention to who was bothering him. His teeth were bared and he stared, barking at the window. Mary looked out into the darkness once more, and finally saw what he saw. The motion detecting light had turned on, and at the edge of the light were two men, dressed from head to toe in black.

Kane crouched and growled and snarled angrily at the patio door, to Mary he looked ready to fight. And if the door had been opened, she knew he wouldn’t, though he’d never shown aggression before.

She checked to ensure the door was locked, it was, though she knew if whoever was standing out there wanted in, they’d get in. The back of her mind she pictured her phone on the stairs, knowing it wasn’t far behind. Leaving Kane, for he wouldn’t move—she’d be afraid to try at this point—she backed slowly up while watching the trespassers closely. When she neared the stairs she turned.

The moment she turned she heard a loud bang, and the shattering of glass. Turning back before she reached her phone she watched Kane choose an attacker, and he lunged for them, white teeth bared, an angry growl echoing in the large room. Kane’s victim called out in fear and pain, as the other man beat at the dog’s head.

In that moment Mary was angered. “You don’t hit my dog!” She screamed lunging at the knotted group of man and beast. With her hands in tight fists she beat his arms and shoulders, trying to stop him. He lay off Hitting Kane long enough to push her hard to the tile floor, where she hit her bottom hard.

Kane immediately let go his vice grip on the arm of the first man, to attack the other, who he’d seen attack his owner. He snapped at the man’s legs and ankles, missing as he dodged the animal’s attacks.

The man kicked at Kane, the toe of his boot finding its mark in the dog’s ribs, making the poor animal yelp in pain, stagger back and fall. He crawled over to Mary, but still looked back at the men and growled angrily.

With the two of them down, they were able to continue with their task. They pulled out their guns, and pointed them, one at Mary and the other at Kane. “Where’s the safe?” One of them said. The other pressed his freehand on his bite wound.

“I don’t know!” Mary said. “I’m just house sitting I don’t live here!”

“Liar,” he said. “Where is it?!”

“I said I don’t know! The Parkers are on vacation for two weeks. I’d never been in the house until today!”

they stepped closer to where Mary and Kane sat in the floor. Kane began to growl, and tried to stand but slipped back down, whining once more.

Mary gently stroked Kane’s fur and glared at the men holding the guns. She never would have thought she’d be staring into the barrel of a gun, held by someone who meant to do her harm. She wanted nothing more than to go back in time and say no to this house sitting crap.

“Listen lady,” the man said. “We came here for one thing and one thing only. If you tell us where the safe is, and you and your dog don’t give us anymore trouble, we will let you go.”

“I don’t know, I really want to shoot that mutt!” The other man grumbled as he clutched his bleeding arm. “I bet he has rabies.”

“No, he doesn’t, he’s just a loyal, protective, smart dog! You deserved it.”

“Listen here you—“ he started to say, lunging forward with his hand raised to hit her.

Kane jumped up, though he was hurt, and lunged at the man again, latching on to the same arm he’d tore into before. The man screamed in pain as Kane shook his head as if trying to tear the arm loose. Both man and dog fell to the floor, both screams and growls filling the air.

The other man turned his back in Mary, in order to try to get Kane off his partner, and she saw an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. She seized a large candlestick off the entryway table, and swung at the gunman’s head as he kicked Kane off his partner and into the wall. There was a yelping from Kane, a screaming from the man he’d been attacking as flesh was torn brutally from his forearm, and a THUNK and a THUD as the other man was smacked in the head and fell to the floor.

Mary rushed to Kane’s side, checking him for further injuries. He whined as she touched him, and she grimaces at his pain. He had blood in his muzzle and she hoped it was human and not canine. “You’re a good boy, Kane.” She said quietly as she held him.

Mary turned when she heard movement behind her. Kane’s victim lay still in the floor unconscious from pain and blood loss. So the only other movement was from the man she’d hit over the head.

“You should have just cooperated.” She heard him say. She turned around and he had the gun to her head. The ever vigilant Kane growled despite his injuries and stood up, ready to protect once more.

In a split second two things happened. First Kane lunged at the attacker with speed belying his injuries and size. Second, heard but not seen, was the firing of a gun.

Things suddenly went black for Mary. Though her hearing lingered for a moment. As it faded away along with all her worries, a screaming drifted away as if on the wind. Then suddenly, silence.

“If Words Could Kill”

16 Wednesday Mar 2016

Posted by in coming soon, Fiction Friday, If Words Could Kill

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  “If Words Could Kill” was a short story series I created where readers who “Liked” and image on my Facebook page would be chosen to have the fictional story of their murder written by yours truly!

Each story takes a trait, characteristic, or aspect of the individual’s life (if I didn’t know them personally, I crept on their social media to learn a little about them, with permission of course), and made it a unique-to-them story.

It was of course all in good fun, and no one was harmed in the writing of these stories!

Links to each story are listed below! Enjoy! Comments are always appreciated!

-c

Fiction Friday (1)

04 Friday Apr 2014

Posted by in Fiction, Fiction Friday, My Writing

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It’s late. You’ve finally gotten off work, and you’re driving home. You didn’t realize how tired you were until your car was moving along the narrow back road. Realizing your eyelids are heavy, you try to hold them open, though it grows more difficult with every second.

“Just a little further,” you tell yourself. Just a few more minutes from home. But your tiredness is overpowering. You catch yourself with your eyes closed, and your car has drifted slightly over the line.

You shake your head, hopefully shaking the sleep out. You roll down the windows, and turn up the radio. You drum your fingers on the steering wheel to a song you hate, trying to keep the beat.

The quiet voiced DJ announces a ballad, one you’ve not heard in a while. You hum along without realizing your eyelids have won the battle. Your eyes closed before you realize it.

When you finally jerk out of your stupor, you’re in the wrong lane. You quickly maneuver into your lane, when there’s a flash in front of your car, and you hear a thump as your car drives over the mysterious object.

In fear, and keeping all theories of what it was out of mind, you slam on your breaks, tires squealing against asphalt. When you’ve come to a complete stop, you pause, breathing deep, getting your nerves together.

Finally, you turn around and look over your shoulder. You see nothing.

Curious and frightened, you get out of your car, and walk around the front. There is a dent in the black pant of your front bumper, but nothing too serious. You walk around the back looking for whatever it was that you hit. There is nothing.

You walk several yards, searching, and find no trail, no evidence of the incident. Just a dented front bumper and some minor scratches in the black paint.

You scratch your head, but climb back in your car, now completely awake. Within minutes you are home and safely in bed.

A few days pass, nothing out of the ordinary. If it weren’t for the curious dent, you might assume the whole incident might have been a dream. A bad dream. But one evening after work, you’re watching the nightly news.

“Local police are asking for your assistance in locating a missing person.” An image of the presumed missing person flashes on screen. “He was last seen three days ago, leaving for an evening walk. Authorities say they currently expect no foul play, but confirm they rule nothing out. If you have any information as to the whereabouts of this man, you may call the police at the following number.”

As the number flashes on screen, along with a missing poster of the man, you see his address and it dawns on you. He was last seen less than a quarter of a mile from where you’d been when you feel asleep at the wheel.

Suddenly you recall the image that appeared in your headlights just before the terrible thumps under your car wheels.