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Crash Landing

Tag Archives: If Words Could Kill

October News & Updates

14 Friday Oct 2016

Posted by crashdlanding in News, Non-Fiction

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crash landing crashdlanding, fiction me this, If Words Could Kill, iwick, news, october, scary stories, updates, very short fiction


I meant to do this a lot sooner, but illness, motherhood, and all manner of life postponed it. So, here we are. 

Scary Story

My goal is to write at least one scary story this month. And seeing as how it’s October, I’ve got great timing. According to Facebook, the things that scare people (my friends, mostly, not many others like my page) are: 

  • Spiders
  • Clowns
  • Ghosts
  • General “King-esq” creepy stuff

I also had a request for a vampire story. So I’m thinking a vote? A “like this picture” thing. So if you want to help choose the scary story, look for the opportunity in the next few days on the Crash Landing Facebook page. 

Bring Back the Fiction!


Come November I hope to bring back on of my previous features. Either Very Short Fiction, Fiction Me This, or If Words Could Kill. But I need help deciding. 

Fiction Me This: send me pictures and I’ll choose one (or have readers vote) and write a story about it. 

If Words Could Kill: like a picture and the “victim” will be randomly selected for their own fictional murder. 

Very Short Fiction: randomly selected person chosen to have their own story (not necessarily death). 

Good Cause

I plan to try and start a “Good Causes” feature. When you’re trying to get the word out, a signal boost is always good, no matter how small the signal. Thai tiny blog of mine doesn’t get a wide range, but given the right hashtag, we can get some attention. 

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If Words Could Kill: Episode Four

30 Thursday Jun 2016

Posted by crashdlanding in Episode Four, Fiction, If Words Could Kill, Uncategorized

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crash landing, crashdlanding, Episode Four, fiction, game over, If Words Could Kill

“Game Over”

She had secrets. Secrets she’d planned on taking to her grave. When she’d first arrived in this Podunk little town she thought she’d left it all behind. But little did Jennifer Wilson know, her secrets would come looking for her. 

It wasn’t until one sunny spring afternoon, as she sat waiting on her son’s school bus, that she realized it was about to hit the fan. Jennifer looked up from her wifi enabled burner smeartphone when she heard the school bus arrive, smiled automatically when she thought of her son’s inevitable endless detail of his day. But the smile quickly faded when she saw the vehicle behind the bus. 

Jennifer and the family she’d made since moving here lived in a privately owned low income apartment complex–although she had uncounted millions secretly stashed in an off-shore account–to keep the heat off of her. Vehicles of all makes and models would come and go, oftentimes at all hours, so she normally wouldn’t be too suspicious. 

But this one was familiar. 

She couldn’t quite put her finger on it at first. She watched as it passed when the bus turned onto the lane. But when it came back after turning at the end of the complex parking lot, she got a glance inside at both driver and passenger. That’s when she knew the happy little life she’d built on lies was about to come crashing down. 

She watched distractedly as the vehicle slowed up as it passed her once more, then it floored it back out to the main road. Jennifer was still watching the shrinking tail lights when her son pulled her hand toward their apartment. They walked back, the boy droning on about his day, Jennifer going through her mind what needed to be done. First things first, she had to make contact. 

There was one other person who knew her secrets, one other who’d she’d kept in the loop, in her small circle of friends when she started her new life. To those around them, they were sisters. In reality, they were partners in crime. 

Jennifer and Crystal had gone over the plan, should everything suddenly fall apart. Despite the lives they’d made they’d have to sever all ties, if only to protect the ones they loved. 

Jennifer texted Crystal the words, “Game over.”

After a moment, during which Jennifer was sure Crystal was processing the news, Crystal responded with their prearranged line. “Continue from last save or new game?”

If Jennifer replied with “continue” it would mean picking up everything she had and moving somewhere else. Thinking briefly, she choose. 

“New game.”

“Confirm.”

“New game.” Jennifer repeated. 

Everything she’d build, the life she’d made, the lives she’d made, was about to be left behind. But they’d both, Jennifer and Crystal, hand made that promise years ago. And Jennifer knew that it was the best decision for the innocent lives involved. 

As previously decided, Jennifer and Crystal would meet at a predetermined location, bags packed, and they’d make their escape. This time, however they’d bid farewell and good luck, and never to meet again. 

At 3:30am that night, Jennifer pulled up in the parking lot of the abandoned building they’d set as their meeting location. She turned off the car, wiped down for prints, and pulled her bag out of the trunk. Thinking of the children she’d kissed goodbye as they slept, she smiled with a tear in her eye. “Perhaps I could see them again one day, after the heat is off.” She knew it wouldn’t be possible, though. She could only hope that they’d live a good life. And with the $50 million she’d had quickly transferred into a savings account with their names, they shouldn’t want for anything. 

Jennifer pulled open the door, and walked inside. Taking a seat at a dusty table, she sat her bag in front of her and waited for Crystal to arrive. After a moment in the silent musty room, she decided it’d be a good idea to have protection at hand. Unzipping the bag, she reached inside and pulled out an old revolver. 

A remnant from a past she’d tried–and failed–to leave behind, the gun had been hidden away in an old tampon box she’d kept in he nightstand. She knew her husband wouldn’t have looked in there. She loaded the weapon slowly and meticulously, familiarizing herself with it once more. It was the only weapon she’d brought with her when she’d started her new life, the one that was now in the past. 

After several minutes, she checked the time, “Crystal should have shown by now,” she told herself. She checked her phone, which she planned on destroying before leaving the building. She’d received a message five minutes before. She unlocked her phone and opened the message. 

“You were followed.”

And with three simple words she was thrust into a state she’d not been in in a decade. She was ready for a fight, and though she was armed with little, she was determined to go out fighting. 

“Do you need assistance?” Crystal messaged. 

“No. Go.”

“CONFIRM.”

“GO!”

Jennifer stood her ground, knowing there was only one entrance into the building–they’d made sure if that a decade ago. She pointed her gun at the door she’d came in, and heard in the distance the squealing of tires as a car sped away. “Go, Crystal, she thought. Make sure my children love good lives.” She thought. 

A moment later two men burst through the door, not even attempting to surprise her. They knew her all to well, knew they’d not get the jump on her. She recognized them. Ten years older, a little rounder about the middle, some gray in their hair. 

Fred and George. Their old nemeses. She could never remember which is which. “We knew we’d find you.” Fred or George said. “You can’t hide forever.”

“Took you long enough,” she paused. “Fred.” She said, unsure. 

“UGH.” He groaned. “I’m GEORGE. Will you ever get it right?!”

“Dude, calm down.” Fred rolled his eyes. “Where’s the other one?!”

“Miles away by now, hopefully. See, you’re not really good at staking a place out. You still missed out on one of us.”

“Doesn’t matter. We still have one half of “the dream team.” Fred said. “You thought you were clever, sneaking past security and into our building. You even managed to get to the safe.”

“Yeah,” George said. “But we told you we’d find you. And here we are! Now where’s our money?!”

“Spent it.”

“Sure, in what? You’ve been living in low income apartments!”

“You think I’m going to go out and buy a mansion with money made from selling priceless works of art in the black market?! Which you’d already stolen from someone else!” Jennifer scoffed at them. “Ha! The apartments were just cover! Pretty good, too. Considering it took you ten years!”

George pointed his gun at Jennifer, but Fred held him back. “Just wait, let’s settle this like adults! We’re all older now, we have more sense than we used too.” He said. “We know you didn’t spend millions of dollars. We aren’t idiots. Just give us the money and we won’t violently murder your family.”

Jennifer raised her gun once more, and pointed it at them, “You won’t lay a finger on them.” She said. “I’ll kill you first. Besides, there’s a fail safe on the money. See, boys, we thought it through. If I don’t check in every few weeks with representatives holding my money, then it will automatically be donated to several different charities throughout the world. You hurt my family and the first thing I do-besides hunt you to the ends of this earth–if I must–is just randomly miss a check in.” She paused. “So, you see, either you walk away and forget all of this, or someone dies tonight. Because you’re not harming my family.”

George, furious at the sudden turn of events–he’d always been the one with the shortest fuse–rushed at Jennifer, tackling her to the ground. Her gun flew from her grip and slid across the room when her hand smacked the dirty wood floor. 

Fred leaped forward himself, intending to tug his brother away. Instead once he was close enough, Jennifer kicked at his legs, knocking him over. George’s hands were around her throat in a second, and she began punching him in the face as his grip tightened. 

Fred stood up, regained his composure and smacked his brother in the head. Jennifer’s punches were losing strength as she lost air. “We’ll keep her alive! We can get the money out of her somehow!” He smacked his brother again. George released Jennifer’s throat and gasped for air. 

She rolled over, crawling a few feet away. She then heard Fred say, “Find something to tie her up with. We will take her with us.”

“Where we taking her?” George asked. 

“To see her family, of course.” Fred said. 

“Over my dead body!” She shouted, whirling around to face them she pointed her retrieved gun at them and fired, hoping to have at least hit one of them. She was out of practice and to angry to aim. 

As her bullet left its chamber, she heard another one leave another chamber. Hers grazed the arm of George and then lodged in a far wall. The other, fired by Fred, tore into the flesh of her abdomen and seemed to remain there. She dropped her gun and laid a hand over her torn flesh. “If you say so.” She heard Fred calmly say. 

She dropped to her knees, watching the blood soak her clothes. Then she heard it. 

“The hell was that?” George asked, looking away from his flesh wound at at his brother. 

“Hmm sounded like a car horn. But we’re in the middle of no where.”

With a bloody hand, Jennifer pulled her phone from her pocket where she’d felt it vibrate. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t get that message.” She read it twice, and smiled. With bloody fingers and unsteady vision she typed. 

“Let’s go out with a bang.” 

She grinned at Fred and George and started laughing. 

They heard the engine rev and then the squealing of breaks as a hard driven decade old Chevy Cobalt hit its top speed. It jumped a curb and flew straight through the front of the building, flattening everything in its path. It flew right into a forgotten tank of propane. 

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If Words Could Kill: Episode Three

15 Friday Apr 2016

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

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crash landing, crashdlanding, fiction, If Words Could Kill

  
“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.

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If Words Could Kill: Episode Two

26 Saturday Mar 2016

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

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crash landing, crashdlanding, fiction, Fiction Friday, If Words Could Kill, writing

   
“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.

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If Words Could Kill: Episode One

17 Thursday Mar 2016

Posted by crashdlanding in Episode One, Fiction, If Words Could Kill

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crashdlanding crash landing, Episode One, fiction, Fiction Friday, If Words Could Kill

  

“Walk in the Dark”

The sun had gone down hours before, and the summer’s heat had gone slowly with it. So when Selena stepped quietly out of her house the night air was cool and comforting.

Since the beginning of summer, when the world around her began to warm, she’d been taking walks after long days of work. They helped her clear her head of stress and ease tension. She slept better at night, too.

On this night, same as every other night, Selena walked the paved road that lead to the house she shared with her parents and younger sister. They were always fast asleep when she tiptoed out. Her mother, had she known of her daughter’s dead-of-night habit, would have been upset.

They lived on a hill in “middle of nowhere” Eastern Kentucky. “There could be anything out there!” Her mother would have said, had she known.

But the walks helped Selena, more than anything, and she enjoyed the calmness of the night air.

Tonight she walked in silence, contemplating the stresses of the day. The sound of her feet hitting the pavement in rhythm was in the back of her mind as she walked and thought.

After a moment the sounds of the woods surrounding her seemed to strengthen. Though she knew she was alone, the sounds of the unseen animals moving in the trees and the night gave the eerie impression that she was being watched.

Feeling the unease the night music seemed to create, she reached in her pocket for her cell phone and earbuds, intending, as she had done every night, to plug in and listen to her favorite music as she continued on. The tunes would drown out the night, help her relax, and prepare her for the walk back. But upon reaching into her pocket, she immediately realized the earbuds weren’t there. Checking both pants pockets multiple times did not ease her disappointment, but she decided to continue on a few more minutes anyway.

But her unease began the get the best of her, and the sounds surrounding her seemed to deepen and multiply. She heard a hoot there, a squeak here, and a scurrying through ground leaves.

When she heard what sounded like a heavy foot breaking a twig close by, she jumped in surprise, a small squeal of fright escaping her lips. “Better turn back,” she thought to herself, knowing that had she had her earbuds, she’d likely walked a few more minutes, without realizing it.

But when she turned she saw a movement in the darkness that couldn’t have been what her frightened mind told her it was. She stopped in her tracks, hoping her eyes had just been playing tricks on her. Though the moon shinned bright overhead, the trees—which now seemed to close in around her—blocked out much of its full light.

Her breathing quickened, her heartbeat pounded in her chest, but she told herself nothing was there, she had to move on. She took a shaky step forward, and then another. But when the figure stepped out of the darkness and into her path, she stopped, a breath caught in her throat.

“You shouldn’t be out here.” The deep voice said. He had a trucker cap on, pulled down low over his face, hiding his eyes in darkness. “It’s not safe out here.” His thick Eastern Kentucky accent told her he didn’t get out of the holler much. He took a step forward, and Selena took a step back.

“I—I was just taking a w-walk.” She told him. “I was on my way home.”

He stepped closer, and now she could see he held something in his hands. All she could make of it was that it was long handled. “Doesn’t matter.” He drawled low. “Shouldn’t be out here.” He said. “Shouldn’t have come.” He stepped closer, loud boots seeming to stomp forward, the sound carrying. This time when he stepped forward, he did so into a beam of moonlight that’d been unimpeded by the trees. The light gleamed off of the heavy head of the ax he held in his hands.

Selena had to make a decision of what to do. Running home was not an option, the tall, barrel chested man blocked her path on the narrow road. He was much bigger and likely much stronger than her. She wouldn’t be able to outrun him or fight back. Her only other option was to run further into the night, away from home, from the safest place she knew. She felt her pocket as discretely as possible, touching the slight bulk of the cell phone in her pocket. “If I can get enough distance,” the thought, “I can call for help.” She tried not to think about the alternative.

The man must have seen a change in her. “Don’t you get any ideas, now.” She saw his grip tighten on the ax handle, and her fear grew.

Selena took a deep breath, and before she let herself think it through, she turned and ran. As she took off she heard the man bellow an inaudible curse.

Though she’d driven this very road for years, it was very different, and much more frightening when on foot in the dark. As she raced on she heard the smacking of her tennis shoes on the pavement and tried to ignore the darkness that seemed to seep out of the woods to close in around her.

Selena pulled her phone from her pocket, hoping to call for help. As she ran she unlocked the phone and opened up the dial pad. Still running, she hovered her finger over the number nine, the first number in that very important emergency number, but also the speed dial number for Selena’s best friend, Crystal.

She glanced at the signal bar, knowing service was spotty in the area, and hoped for enough of a signal to make the call. The signal bar seemed to jump back and forth between nothing and something, further distressing a now very winded Selena.

“A little further,” she told herself, knowing there was a curve coming up, where foliage seemed to allow a better signal.

She looked back, in desperation, to see where her pursuer was. When she did so, she missed seeing a deep crack in the pavement, caused my this springs heavy rains. The toe of her shoe dipped into the hole, and Selena lost balance. She heard the sound of a pressed button then lost her grip on the phone. It slid several feet in front of her and she fell, hands outstretched to catch her fall.

Her weight was caught in her hands, her wrists cracked under the pressure, her head smacked the pavement. Selena screamed in agony, groaning as she rolled over.

When he was standing over her, her pain and fear became misery, and she saw her fate in his angry eyes and white knuckled grip on the wooden ax handle.

Selena sobbed once more, and closed her eyes.

“You shouldn’t have been out here. It’s dangerous in the dark.”

The sun began to rise in the rolling Eastern Kentucky hills. It’s bright yellow light filtered through the green leaves, filling the wooded expanse with colors of a summer morning.

Blood ran over the cracked and broken pavement of a poorly kept county road, around a cell phone with a cracked screen. Displayed there was several missed calls and a full voicemail box. An incoming call message displayed a goofy face and the name “Crystal”. Then the battery died and the screen went black.

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“If Words Could Kill”

16 Wednesday Mar 2016

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

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coming soon, crash landing, crashdlanding, fiction, Fiction Friday, If Words Could Kill

  “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!

  • Episode 1
  • Episode 2
  • Episode 3
  • Episode 4

-c

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