Author · Horror · writing

Itch part two.

Part two. Of course this is flash fiction a rough draft, unedited. I wanted to get the meat of it down, and I’ll file it into the category of “Ill work on it more later.”

He felt as if he was aiming for every pothole and bump in the dirt road. Not slowing for corners, he skidded around each one with literal wild abandon while planning his next move. No one knows yet. I have time to make it home and pack up. Just disappear. But to where? Ditch the company truck; yeah, that’s first on the list. Fresh clothes, oh the bank, take out my saving and lose my credit cards, cash from here on out. Lost in thought, his body on autopilot and coursing with adrenaline, the giant pothole in the middle of the road came quick, and he yanked the steering wheel hard to swerve around it as the front left wheel dipped into the ditch. Yanking hard again on the wheel, he tried to pull out of it but overcorrected and careened off the road catching air as he sailed into the swamp.

                The buzzing woke him. A constant, maddening hum. The dim light of the morning showed through the cracked windshield, sending rainbow patterns over the cab of the truck. The tree that had stopped him and cracked his windshield bowed over, pinning the truck to the swampy ground but saving him from plunging deeper into the swamp.

                Bruno tried to open his eyes. They were sticky with sleep and felt like his eyelids were swelling. He managed to pry them open and looked around, disoriented and confused about where he was. The buzzing again was loud in his ear as a massive mosquito flew through his open window. He wave his fat stubby hand to shoe it away, then noticed a series of large swelling bumps. Another huge mosquito takes the place of the one he shoed away fat with fresh blood, so fat it could barely fly, flew past his face. That’s when he remembered, and his panic began to renew. Shit shit shit! I gotta get out of here! He frantically pushed the door, but the mud had worked its way halfway up the door, and it would take a force of nature to move it. It didn’t even budge. The window then. Changing tactics, he climbed onto his knees and stuck his head out the window, but his keg-sized beer belly only threatened to get him stuck in an awkward position. Winded and out of breath, he sat back. The buzzing got louder, and he began to itch.

A shadow formed outside the truck’s window, like a cloud passing in front of the sun. But this cloud hummed with a disturbing resonance. Several mosquitos flew in and began to buzz in his face. He swats at them, irritated at the intrusion. He slapped a courageous one that had swelled to a startling red as it sucked on his leg. He smashed that one out of existence and then rubbed the sting on his leg. Another landed on his hand, and another. The cloud grew and darkened the outside of his window as the buzzing increased. “Fuck you!” he screamed in frustration as he swatted and slapped frantically. He felt as if he needed more hands, as the sheer number of the mosquito grew exponentially. A new panic took hold as the itch began to grow.

                Everywhere now. Every bit of exposed skin had begun to deform with large bulging bites. His hands, face, neck and even the top of his head were now becoming on continuous maddening itch. His swollen eyelids caused his eyes to blur and water, they itched. He rubbed them with the rough edges of his shirtsleeve, but that did little to relieve it. A sudden wave of convulsion overtook him as the primal part of his brain took over, and he began to rub and swat all over his body fending off the constant and incessant attack. Wave after wave of mosquitos flew in the window and mercilessly took full advantage of a captive dinner as they sucked and sucked.

                He must have passed out again. He woke to a blanket of mosquitos covering his entire body, greedily tapping him dry and the burning itch. Everything itched now. He pried an eye open and searched for something, anything to scratch with. He scrubbed at his body, trying to scratch every inch at once. And he cried out in agony, sending a swarm of mosquitos into the air, only to reposition themselves and begin again.”God damn it! I can’t take it anymore!” He shouted in pain and frustration.

                He saw the glint of metal from an old clipboard he didn’t use anymore; the plastic had cracked, and it was hard to write on. He snatched it up and snapped the board in half, exposing a jagged plastic edge. He started on his hand first. Dragging the edge along the top of his hand, leaving red trails as the skin scrapped away. The relief was short-lived, and he continued to rub the shard of plastic back and forth, getting redder with every pass. But it only made it worse and seemed to intensify everywhere else it itched. He dug in deeper, scraping skin away to the fat and meat below, not even feeling the pain of it, but it was the closest thing to the relief he felt.

                All he could hear was a constant buzz and the sound of his heartbeat. He couldn’t feel his hand anymore Thank god. But now he could stop scratching at his face. So swollen it was impossible to open his eyes he began to work the plastic clipboard on his face. He scraped and tore at the skin on his face. He dragged the slick jagged edge peeling of another layer, moaning in despair and feeling his consciousness slip into darkness.

Horror · Uncategorized · writing

Itch (working title)

Had to get this out, even though its not my WIP. But after a nice camping trip, this story came to mind.

CAUTION Graphic content ahead, you have been warned

Itch Part 1.

                Bruno drove down the unpaved road probably faster than he should have been. The tires splashed water from deep potholes far off the road into the swamp of the Florida Everglades. The service truck wobbled dangerously close to toppling over after he avoided a particularly treacherous-looking puddle as he careened onto the home’s driveway that was last on his list for the day.

                He skidded to an abrupt stop and shut off the engine. He put on the tattered ball cap with the logo of “Billy Bobs Air conditioning and plumbing”  and picked up a clipboard with the same logo, then climbed out of the truck. A blast of hot sticky, humid air washed over him as he stepped out and walked the twenty or so feet to the front door.

                The door opened before he could reach the entrance to knock, and an even warmer blast of air hit him from inside the house. Yup, definitely the right place, He thought. The door opened wider, and a tall thin woman with long dark hair stepped into view. “Miss, Bradly?” he asked as he looked down at the clipboard to verify her name and address. He could see her bare feet as he looked at the board, and his eyes followed them up her toned legs until his view was cut off by a thin bathrobe.

                “Oh, thank god! I thought you would never get here.” She exclaimed in a way of answering him. “It’s right out back.” She said, pointing to the house.

                She led the way around the side of her house to the broken air conditioner he was there to repair. Her bathrobe clung to her body, accentuating the curve of her hips. Damn, sometimes I really love my job, Bruno thought as he watched her hips sway as she walked.

                “Well, here it is, piece of shit that it is.” She said, motioning to the silent air conditioner.

“Uh huh, yup, these models are finicky; probably why they discontinued them about 5 years ago,” He said knowingly. “she’s not in bad condition overall, just needs a boost of coolant, more than likely.” He went on as he unscrewed a panel from the side.  

                I’ll be inside, sweating my balls off; just holler if ya need anything,” she said as she turned back to go inside. Bruno glanced again at her shapely hips as she walked away. Shook his head from side to side as if he couldn’t; believe his luck with such an attractive client.

                Bruno was feeling pretty good about himself. He managed to keep his eyes off her, for the most part, only a quick glance. He could indulge just a little and still not break his promise to himself.

He had been doing great. He hadn’t missed a single session with his therapist and has kept up on his journal. You know, really putting in the work, and he felt that he was passing this test. He voluntarily started going to a therapist; he knew that his sexual addiction was getting worse and he thought that he would be proactive. Don’t want to be one of those guys that eventually do something stupid and get thrown in prison, was his thought.

                A slight stinging sensation snapped him out of his thoughts as he saw a massive mosquito still swelling with blood as it sucked at his hand. He slapped hard, spurting blood from the engorged bug. God damn, that has to be the biggest damn skeeter I’ve ever seen. He thought, wiping blood onto his coveralls.

                He returned to his truck and brought back a coolant tank to refill the air conditioner and finish off the day. He wrapped up the last of the repairs, thankful it was an easy fix, and went to the front door. It was too hot, too sticky, and a cold beer was calling his name. His last call for the day, She is a beauty almost done; he could just about taste the beer. The door was ajar and he could only see a sliver of light coming from the window as he knocked with the corner of his clipboard. “All finished up,” he shouted through the crack as the sound of the air conditioner hummed to life in the distance.

                “Come on in.”She shouted back from what he assumed was her kitchen. He absentmindedly scratched at the swelling mosquito bite on his hand as he pushed through the door and stepped in. Miss Bradly walked from the kitchen holding 2 glasses of ice cold water, the condensation dripping from the glass in the heat. “You should start to feel it anytime now.” He said, motioning his head toward the air vent in the ceiling. She handed him the glass of water and noticed the mosquito bite on his hand. “Oh, looks like they got ya.” She said as he took a sip.

                 “Uh yeah, biggest bugger I’ve ever seen.”

“Let me get you some hydrocortisone for that. It’s gonna itch like crazy in a few minutes if you don’t get it on quick.” She said helpfully.

                “Oh, why, thank you.” He replied, genuinely grateful, and took another sip of water as she walked down the hallway to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. The bathroom light showed through her thin bathrobe, silhouetting her naked body underneath. He gave in and indulged another avarice look at her body as she walked, feeling himself stiffen and his heart quicken at the sight. He quickly looked away as she turned around and came back with a tube of medication. She handed it to him with a smile and said, “I go through a lot of this stuff around here, but it’s been pretty bad this year with all the heat; I swear, they just keep getting bigger and bigger.”

                He squeezed a dollop of the white paste and rubbed it on the increasingly itchy bite, feeling it quell it almost immediately. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.” He said in relief.

“You wouldn’t mind, would you?” She said, motioning to her back; I got a bit right in the middle of my shoulder blades; I swear they know exactly where I can’t reach, don’t ya know?” She turned away from him and let the robe slide off her shoulder to reveal her back. A nasty mosquito bite the size of a silver dollar was dead center of her shoulder blades.

                Bruno was stunned for a moment, not sure what he should do. His first thought was that this was wildly inappropriate, and if HR caught wind of it, he would possibly get fired for the liability alone. His second thought was, almost jokingly as inappropriate,  Dear penthouse forum… I can’t believe it happened to me… He smiled at himself for that.He squeezed a large glob on his hand and gently put it on the bite. She inhaled sharply, and he felt her skin turn gooseflesh for a second.

                “Oh, that’s cold..” she exclaimed through gritted teeth as he rubbed the cream. Bruno reached up with the full intention of grabbing her shoulder to use as leverage to help him rub the cream. As he awkwardly reached, his hand brushed the side of her breast. His heart beat in his chest so hard it almost hurt as his vision blurred and his penis stiffened immediately. Bruno lost himself. All of a sudden, he felt as if in a dream, a haze or fog he could barely see past. As he watched, seemingly from out of body, a fat sweaty man in blue coveralls and a blue ball cap tore away her bathrobe and shoved her to the ground.

                He wasn’t sure how long it had been. He found himself lying on the ground. The room was dark but cool as the air conditioner hummed along. His hands were sticky, and his head hurt from a gash above his thick brow. He put his hands on the ground to heave himself off the ground. A sharp pain shot up through his hand as a shard of something sliced into it as he pushed himself up. “Ahh!” he screamed and sucked air between his teeth as more fresh blood dripped from his palm. Standing now, he looked around see broken ceramic pieced from a destroyed lamp  Must be why my head hurts.

                As he scanned around, he noticed a dark shape in front of the sofa. His heart lurched in his chest as he recognized her body. He felt the thrill, tantalizing and electric as the memory of his fingers brushing her breast, then the urgency. It wasn’t me,  it wasn’t me! I did the work, everything, I worked so hard, so this wouldn’t happen. He looked back at her crumpled body by the sofa. He could see better now; his eyes adjusted to the dark. There was so much blood everywhere. He could see smears of it all over the wood floor, handprints, and footprints. He could almost make out the scene in his mind just by looking at it. The end table by the sofa and its missing lamp, but why was there so much blood? He gingerly touched the gash above his eye; it hurt but was no longer bleeding. He looked closer at her and saw an enormous amount of blood on her back, her buttocks, and legs. He noticed bits and pieces of the ceramic peppered all over her in red splotches. The scene didn’t make sense to him until he saw a heavy glass ashtray cracked in half lying next to her hand.

                Bruno scratched the mosquito bite on his hand, which strangely brought him back to his senses. His eyes darted around the room as panic overtook him. They’re gonna know! Oh god, it’s so obvious! He frantically patted his pockets, searching for his keys; finding them in his front pocket, he bolted for the door and burst out into the night. He ran for his truck and jumped in, starting it before he had even pulled the door closed. He floored the pedal down, sending gravel to shower the house, and drove off in a manic daze.

Emergence Collective · writing · about me · Author · Audible

Audible Update

A quick update on the Audible project. I received all the equipment and distributed it to the voice actor. I can already tell this project will take a fair amount of time, and that will be excruciating. Of course, I want it to be finished and published yesterday. Another lesson in patience I suppose. Zack and I are doing the research, and learning the software; he is reading the book taking notes, and getting familiar with the characters and story.

I am heading off to the woods to go camping so I won’t be posting until Monday. Thanks for taking the time to visit my Blog!

about me · Author · Emergence Collective · writing

Emergence Collective is featured on a site

T.A. Walker AKA “The Bookie” Has featured my book “Emergence collective” on her new website. As a new author, finding an audience is by far the most challenging experience (Artistically) that I have ever had. Being that I am independent, I don’t have the clout or financial backing to market myself to a large audience. The Bookie is a champion for undiscovered authors and provides a platform for discovery as she reviews and provides commentary for books and stories from new and old authors. She does not discriminate against an author just because she has never heard about them before. You, just may become a new favorite author. Please check other site and see for yourself what she is all about visit the links below!

https://freewriterbookie.weebly.com/

about me · Audible · Author · Emergence Collective · writing

No good deed goes unpunished

I never voiced this out loud, but in my head, I called it. “I’m going to give this guy a chance, a boost to start his career, and he is gonna kill my character tonight.” Aaaaaaaaand it happened. my character in D&D was ambushed by a mind flayer. I think he felt bad since we spent a lot of time trying to resurrect the character without too much “divine intervention.” The Friday game went as I expected. We did, however, despite the game of pretending, get an opportunity to go over some mental notes on the narration for “Emergence collective” foo Audible. I have all the recording equipment ordered and on its way. Things are right on track to begin recording, and I couldn’t be happier. As I mentioned in a previous post, I had a great writing session this weekend so things all around are going smoothly. (Now if I can just figure out how to get these two characters to meet) but that’s my problem)). Thanks for taking the time to check out my blog!

about me · Author · Emergence Ascended · Emergence Collective · writing

New experiences.

Just a quick post on Saturday. This whole writing thing keeps bringing new rewards. I wrote a particularly satisfying chapter today. As I feel I am still new to the writing thing, I know that the struggle is real, but I think that those feelings of futility and creative struggles have a tendency to overshadow some of the personal revelations and rewards that one can get from writing. One thing is that I write because of the compulsion to let out my creative impulse. But that sounds sterile and somewhat clinical, I find genuine enjoyment in writing. While it is not really a new experience, today I felt a profound enjoyment as the words flowed, and there was a full circle moment in the plot and a definite connection to the first book that was quite gratifying. Thanks for visiting!

Audible · Author · Emergence Collective · writing

Friday, what took you so long?

Wow, this week seemed to last forever. Im looking forward to recharging my mental batteries. I have a D&D session tonight, Im excited about (going to hunt some rust monsters that are currently plaguing the town). Its fun to play make-believe, and I think it keeps one creative. I plan on getting a lot of writing tomorrow, since I haven’t had the chance to write all week. Not a bad thing though. Ive been “writing” in my head the whole time, going over the overall story and planning how to connect some storylines together. The Audible project is full steam ahead. I have recording equipment picked out, and I have lots of notes to go over with the narrator.

Thanks for stopping by!

Author · writing

Living an Altruistic life. A journey of self-healing

Here is a little piece I wrote for a friends webs site. It never got used, so I thought I would share it here.


To begin the journey of finding peace in oneself starts with healing the wounds that scar our inner harmony. We must reconcile our selfish nature and let go of the egos that control us, our actions, and affect others around us. Release negativity and find solace in the simple act of being Altruistic.

There is a quote by Mother Teresa that had a profound effect on my life. “If you cant save the world, save just one person.” In retrospect, it seems obvious that we as a people see the enormity of the world’s problem and feel that it is too overwhelming to be of any help. But to save just one is to protect the whole because that simple act may have a butterfly effect that changes our world by order of magnitude larger.

There may be a correlation between Karmic beliefs and Altruism, but neither is synonymous with each other. Karma can be a tricky thing, and there is a lot of internalizing and conflicting emotions; if I help the old lady cross the street, am I doing this for the sake of being altruistic, or am I doing it to selfishly feel that “I did a good thing”.Is our motivation to be seen doing good? Or to acquire the accolades of service from those that help. It is a complicated game. To expect Karmic retribution, does that negate the Karmic effect? You have to look deep inside yourself to know those answers, but to feel good for being altruistic doesn’t negate the action. How you feel about it does not alter the end result, The old lady was safely led to her destination, and all is well. To enjoy the satisfaction is not Karmically damaging as long as your intentions are genuine.

Living our life with intention in our behaviors every day is a step to self-healing and inner harmony. To be intentional in our actions, doing good every day, for the sake of it. It has that butterfly effect around us. The pass it forward concept is a prime example of true Altruism. To spread the good intentions and Altruism of others and share in that with our fellow humanity and the world at large.

As the ego dies and one finds themselves to be less concerned about the self, Altruism becomes second nature, as we all are in the beginning selfless and in harmony with ourselves and nature. Our souls are pure and not jaded by the world around us; it is easy to be compassionate and considerate of others. Living an altruistic life is a healing that we can all accomplish and find harmony within ourselves. Those around us will emulate that intention, and the harmony we find in ourselves will be found in the world around us.

Author · Emergence Ascended · magic · spiritualism · writing

Emergence Ascended Sneak peak…

Here is an excerpt from Emergence Ascended. The sequel to Emergence collective.

Barney materialized right in front of her, making her nearly jump out of her chair backward. She skittered back, wheeling the chair until it collided with her desk, knocking her laptop onto the floor as she toppled over. Serenity scrambled to her feet, never taking her eyes off of Barney while she frantically searched for anything that could be used as a weapon, but all she could find was a pair of scissors. Not completely satisfied, but it was all she had; she waved the scissors around and jabbed them at Barney. “Who the fuck are you, and how did you get in here?” she screamed. Still jabbing the scissors at him. Barney just chuckled at her; it was funny to him how she nearly flipped backward. And now with the scissors.

Seeing Barney laugh at her pissed her off, overtaking any fear she had just felt. “I’m gonna fucking gut you mother fucker!” she screamed as she lunged toward him.  He barely moved; with a twitch of his wrist, he blocked the scissors, knocking them out of her hand and sending them sliding across the floor, then grabbing her wrist in the same motion.

Serenity yanked her arm, trying to pull free from Barney’s iron grip but only managed to pull herself closer to him. Not missing an opportunity, she raised her knee with a grunt connecting solidly with his crotch. With an “oof!’ Barney dropped to a knee doubling over in excruciating pain that made him suddenly nauseous. “Enough!” he bellowed as he pushed her away, sending her off balance, and stood up. She backpedaled, landing on her sofa. She frantically looked around, eyes darting this way and that, searching for another weapon.

Emergence Ascended · writing

Managed to squirrel away some time

I managed to squirrel away some time and got a solid chapter out of the way. I haven’t been writing for very long, a lot of the experiences are new to me. The last chapter I wrote had some powerful stuff that had me feeling emotional for a while after I finished it. That was a new experience, and I hope that translates to the reader. I feel that “If I’m not excited about my story, then the reader isn’t going to be either.” So writing this chapter I am suddenly very curious if the reader is going to have half the reaction that I did writing it. Im not going to go so far as saying that it is my best writing yet, but I’m still gonna pat myself on the back for it. I am glad that I put off other life duties and let the moment go where it wanted. I think writing is a lot like golf, where most of the time it seems to be an exercise of futility sprinkled with little moments of glory, which is enough to make it worth it.