Tag: Horror

Horror · writing

Alone part 2 of 4

Joe HallettLeave a comment

When I wrote this I explored the idea of what would it be like to always have someone with you, no matter what, no privacy at all, everything is shared. How could you call anything your own when “You” are essentually them.

Caution, graphic violence ahead. if you are squeamish you might want to pass on this one.

Luis could swing the eight-pound sledgehammer one-handed. His left arm bulged and rippled with muscle that was far more developed than it should be for a fifteen-year-old. His right arm, easily half as thick, seemed useless in comparison. The sledgehammer came down hard on the stake, driving it down a full foot. Randolph, with practiced movements, let go of the stake just in time. Another loud crack split the air as the sledgehammer pounded the stake another foot deeper. Most roustabouts took as many as ten, or even twenty hits to sink the tent stakes. But Luis and Randolph could get the job done in four or five.  
 ”She’s never gonna go for you, you know,” Luis’s poignant sarcasm dripped from his lips. “She aint gonna go for a half-wit anyhow. Even if she don’t care if I’m here. No one would go for you. Not now, not if you were normal, not ever!” He accentuated his point with a final blow of his sledgehammer 
 Randolph fidgeted with his wooden mallet before pulling out another three-foot-long tent stake. “You don’t know that! It’s not like she don’t see us every day, and I never see her with any other guy,” Randolph, wounded, defended his ego with a sad wispy voice. He set the stake with a few solid taps of his mallet, holding it in place with a shrunken left hand.  
 ”Yeah? Don’t you get it? She doesn’t even like me, so how’s that suppose to work for ya? Ha! You’re stuck with me. The only way you’re going to get any of that is if we take it!” He had a vicious smile as he punctuated every other word with long smooth strokes of his sledgehammer handle.  
  ”Why are you so mean to me?” Randolph sniffled in defeat.  
  Luis hefted the sledgehammer then slammed it down on the stake with a loud crack. “I’m not bein’ mean ya. I’m just sayin the truth to ya, cause you don’t know no better.” Two more loud cracks on the stake finished his words.  
 ”I do know. She’s so pretty, and she’s nice to me,” his little voice squeaked his thin defense.  

“Nah, you just don’t know nothin’ at all, do you ya shrivel? She’s only nice to you ’cause you’re just a little shriveled-up half-wit.” Luis puffed up his chest, emphasizing his dominance.  
 ”Don’t call me shrivel no more. You always just call me that.” Randolph’s little voice was sounding weaker.  
 ”Yeah? I’ll call ya shrivel whenever I want. Now get another stake. It’s getting dark, and we gotta git this done ‘fore we lose the light.” Luis hefted the sledgehammer, ready to sink another stake.  
 Randolph grabbed the stake, set it with a few pounds with his mallet, and then put it back in the loop of his coveralls. They worked quickly together. Each one was doing his job in practiced unison. Randolph would set the stakes, then Luis would sink them with the sledgehammer while the other roustabouts set up the bale rigs and blocks-and-tackle. The scent of hot stew from the cookhouse inspired a quicker pace to finish the last few tent stakes.  
 ”She would have sat with us if you weren’t such a meanie.” Randolph pouted, looking over at the long blonde hair of a girl sitting next to a heavily tattooed man.  
 Luis gritted his teeth with a sneering smile. “Yeah? It’s not me , ya know. She’s just not sweet on lil’ shrivels,” Luis goaded with a vicious sarcastic tone.  

“She would like me if’n we weren’t stuck together. She likes ’em big and strong.” He flexed his muscled left arm with arrogant pride. ”You’re always sayin things like that. She likes me just fine, all right. Not you, ’cause your such a meanie. She don’t care if we’re together. You just got to be nicer when I talk to her. But you’re not nice to anyone, no how. Not even me!”  
 Luis laughed at that. “Yeah? Especially you!” He chided and poked Randolph in the side with his right hand.   

Randolph flinched at the poking, his overalls worn thin at the spot where Luis habitually poked at him. Randolph tried to brush his brother’s hand away. But he always managed to get a few good pokes in before Randolph could successfully block him. Luis’s half-formed right arm and Randolph’s equally diminished left constantly battled between their bodies. Their little arms warred against each other in seemingly endless battles, tug-of-war’s, and poking. Randolph was used to the poking, fidgeting and pulling, but knew when Luis was “being a meanie,” it would go on all night.  
 In almost mechanical precision, their unified movements were smooth and effortless. Their conjoined heads leaned over two stew bowls, sitting side by side as opposing hands spooned up hot stew in unconscious cooperation.   

Randolph soaked up the last of his stew with a biscuit. Stuffed his mouth and stared long, wistful eyes at the slender blonde trapeze artist. He watched as she ate her dinner, laughing and talking between delicate bites of her stew and biscuits.    

Luis pulled his head hard to the side, almost lifting Randolph off his seat.  Luis Enjoyed pulling his smaller, weaker brother around with his head. It gave him a cruel pleasure that amounted to, ”Even though we are attached, I am always in control.”  
  They stood up, grabbing their stew bowls, then walked to the wash basin. Almost a full stride quicker, Luis forced Randolph to make short quick steps to get back into unison. “I gotta take a piss. Let’s go,” Luis ordered, grabbing his crotch to make his point clear that it was an emergency. He pulled Randolph along, beyond the lights and tents of the circus, to the shadows where he could get some privacy to do his business.  
 They headed back toward the lights and sounds of the circus around the back end of the bunkhouse. Luis saw her first, his side of their heads coming into view before Randolph. The blonde girl was leaning against the door to her bunkhouse, talking quietly to another boy, flashing a smile, and twisting her hair.  
 ”Hey, would ya look at that?” Luis pointed to the couple. Randolph’s heart sank at the sight of her and the other boy. “Looks like ya missed out already there, Shrivel.” He laughed and poked Randolph in the side again.   

The boy took a few steps back from her, then turned away, looking reluctant to leave. She watched him go with a small smile and radiant eyes.   

Luis started walking in her direction, pulling Randolph along. ”Let’s go talk to her,” Luis said with a mysterious tone in his voice.   

She heard them and looked over. Her smile changed. It did not go away, only switched to one of greeting.  “Hello, Randolph.”  

Randolph’s heart thumped at her acknowledgment.  

 ”And Luis.” But when she said Luis’s name, it lacked the same warmth.   

Randolph’s nervous fingers fidgeted with his mallet. “Um, uh, Hello Greta,”  
He said, smiling a wide toothy grin.  Luis poked at him again, but this time it seemed encouraging rather than harassing.   

“What ya up to?” Luis spoke up before Randolph could pick up his hint.  

“Oh, I’m just about to turn in for the evening,” she said with a cheery soft voice that made Randolph fidget with his mallet, and then she took a few steps closer. Luis’s left arm snapped out, grabbing Greta’s shoulder. Her eyes went wide with surprise as she twisted her body, trying to escape the iron grip.  

“Now’s your chance, Shrivel!” Luis sneered and began pulling Greta and Randolph toward the shadows behind the bunkhouse.   

Randolph stumbled amidst the tangle of feet. ”Wha..?” was all his meek voice could squeeze out, shocked by Luis’s brashness.   

Greta twisted and clawed at Luis’s hand. ”Let me go!” she shouted, then flashed a pleading look into Randolph’s eyes.   

Luis just gripped harder and continued to pull the two of them farther into the shadows.   

Randolph’s shock faded. He dug his feet firm to the ground and then reached out to Greta to pull her free from his brother’s grasp.  

Luis only smiled and pulled her closer to him. “That’s the spirit, Shrivel! I’ll let you go first since you’re so sweet on her.”   

At that, she wrenched with a quick turn, wriggling free, ripping her blouse in the process. Leaving Luis with a handful of fabric, she ran, looking back with a sad, hurt look that Randolph knew was the end of his friendship with her.  

Continue to part 3

about me · art · Emergence Ascended · Emergence Collective · Horror · painting · poetry · writing

Gray matter

Joe HallettLeave a comment

Thick sticky gray gelatin oozed out of his ears and nose with a wisp of steam like smoke. The texture of the brain tissue had been slowly liquifying over the week as more and more information was funneled into the skull, like ten pounds of crap in a five-pound bag.

I am back at home and trying to normalize and get back into routine comfort. There is something sad about the idea that I couldn’t wait to get back to work just so I could have a  mental break. My training is done, and now I can get back to focusing on my writing and posting on the blog.

Today marks the second month of the blog. I hope that you are enjoying it as much as I am writing it. A big thank you to those that are following me! It does make a difference, knowing that I am not just shouting in an empty room. If you are new to this blog,  I started it to promote my book “Emergence Collective”  and other writings. It also is a platform to show off some of the other creative stuff. If you want a signed paperback copy, you can get that from my Etsy page. There are also some of the stuff that I make with my laser there, such as custom ouija boards, Crystal pendulum boards, and crystal grids, just to name a few. If you have a custom project in mind let me know and we can see what I can do for you. There are a few ways to contact me on my about me page.

Thanks for checking out the blog!

Emergence Ascended · Emergence Collective · writing

Sneak Peek! “Emergence, Ascended”

Joe HallettLeave a comment

Here is a glimpse of my WIP, the sequel to “Emergence collective“. This is the first draft of chapter one. I hope you enjoy! Feel free to comment! And hey, if it’s interesting consider buying the first book 😉

Chapter one

She watched William Freidman hunch over, Staring intently at a massive book in the silence of the dimly lit library. He was surrounded by stacks of books so high that it nearly hid him from view like a protective wall. The book he was staring into was a 3-inch-thick tome with yellow fragile-looking pages. She was patient, but this kid was looking at the page; (she glanced up at the clock on the wall) for almost five minutes now. What’s this idiot doing? Sounding out each word as slowly as he can? She thought. She cleared her throat intentionally loud and aggressive, obviously trying to get his attention.

    “The bejesus!” he squealed, his knees thumping the desk as he nearly jumped out of his skin. He looked around nervously, hoping that his squeal didn’t bother the library patrons where he worked.

            “I’m the only one here.” She said, looking amused. “Whatcha reading?”

He was momentarily stunned by her beauty. She had flawless obsidian black skin, long braided hair, and full, supple lips. He fumbled with the earbuds, pulling them out of his ears, smiling, and trying to look like he wasn’t looking her over. “Oh, I’m not actually; I was just picking a new audiobook.” He tilted the “Book” he was staring into up so she could see. The tablet was perfectly nestled into the pages of the book. The screen showed a long list of books that he struggled to decide on.

             Her brilliant hazel, almost red eyes squinted accusingly at him. “You destroyed a book to hide your tablet?” She asked scornfully. From being startled, his face, already a shade of pink, turned to a red hue, embarrassed by the accusation. “No, no. I made it.” He said and smiled as his face returned to its natural pale color. He lifted the book with ease handing it to her to inspect. She noted that it was far lighter than it appeared as she took it into her hands, awkwardly shuffling the books she was already holding. She closed the book and examined it nodding her head in approval. The book looked old as if it belonged in an archive. The cover had a grim-looking face stretched out, with arcane runes and the word “Necronomicon” embellished in gold foil. “Nicely done,” She said with a slight wince at the gruesome face as she handed it back. “I’m impressed.”

            “Thanks,” he said as he took it back from her and shrugged. “I took a bookbinding class last year.

He sat looking at her, finding himself looking into her fiery eyes, then to her lips and her chin.

She cleared her throat again, breaking the awkward silence and his eyes from wandering any farther down.

            “Soooo. Can I check these books out or what?” She said, half annoyed and half-amused.

“Oh. Right, Gees, sorry.” He managed to fumble out, feeling his face turning pink again as she set a stack of books and her library card on the desk. He picked up the barcode scanner and started scanning her books. As she waited for him to scan her books out, her eyes drifted over the desk. they stopped on the earbud he pulled out after she startled him, and she squinted at it. “So, you work in a Library, but you don’t like to read?” she asked, sounding confused.

            “Yup, that’s pretty much it.” He said, following her eyes to the earbud.

            “But, you like books? Enough to take a bookbinding class?”

            “Mmm-hmm.” He mumbled between beeps of the scanner. “But you seem to.” He remarked, looking at the last few of the six books she had picked out. “Schopenhauer, Nietzsche. Kant,” Will read the names rubbing his forehead as if he was getting a headache. “Pretty standard stuff for a Nihilist.” He said with a smirk. “Are you a nihilist?”

            “I’m a Philosophy major, so pretty much, yeah.”  She said deadpan. They both laughed at that. Will scanned her library card and set it on the stack of books. “Well, your all set.” He said, squinting at  her card, “Alchemy.” He read aloud.

“Chemy.” She corrected, “I go by Chemy.” She said, smiling and looking him in the eyes. Will got butterflies as their eyes met. The glint of fire in her eyes against the smooth dark skin made his heart race.

He slid the stack of books to the edge of the desk where she could reach it and stood up, extending his hand.”I’m Will.” He said, introducing himself. She took his hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you, Will.”

“You too, Chemy.” He replied, smiling. She slid the books off of the desk, slipped them into a book bag and turned around, and headed for the exit. He did his best not to stare as she walked away. He made busywork of moving the stacks of books around while keeping an eye on her as she left. You’re cool, just a work-a-day Joe. Not a creeper, He thought, as she pushed through the door. Did she look back at me?

He couldn’t tell if he imagined it and hoped that she did, but if she did, it was a subtle glance his way.

            Will put his earbud back in and finished choosing his next book to listen to. Mechanically started scanning the returned books put them on the return carts, all the while replaying the last few minutes in his mind. Damn, she was cute. He knew he was lying to himself. She was more than pretty. Hot? No, that’s trashy. She was more. She was, well, captivating. Satisfied with that thought, he continued scanning in the returned book pile. He played the encounter over again in his head and cringed at himself in embarrassment. Then he thought about their introduction again, thinking about the softness of her hand, its comforting warmth. Suddenly self-conscious, he wondered if she felt an attraction. He ran his hand through his shaggy blonde hair in a surge of nervous energy. I’m an idiot nerd. Of course, she’s not into me; I just had to play show and tell with my homemade tablet case.

            He sat there, daydreaming for a while longer before he realized that he had gotten himself worked up for nothing. He likely would never see her again anyway. With the size of the stack of books she had and their content, who knows when she will return them to the library. He sighed in defeat. Well, it was a fun thought while it lasted, He said to himself. The rumble in his stomach reminded him that his shift was over soon, and he should actually get some work done. He stood up and started pushing the book cart down the isle of bookcases with renewed vigor. He had to chuckle at himself for slacking off; he had been staring at the book list for too long in the first place before Alchemy derailed him. Will stopped in the middle of the aisle as he realized two things, one, that he was just wandering up and down the isles daydreaming and not even putting shelving the books on his cart, and two, that he had not even been listening to his audiobook and had to start it over. He chuckled again and slapped his face to break himself out of his daze. I get it. She was hot, I am into her, but I need to snap out of it and get some work done. He gave himself another few slaps in the face and shook it off, clearing his head and began to work in earnest. 

Will made short work of shelving the books, now that he was no longer distracted. He pushed the cart back to its home by his desk and started the last of his duties. He tossed his tablet that looked like an old spellbook into his backpack. Remembering how Chemy had said she was impressed with it made him wince with regret. I should have at least asked for her number; he scolded himself. He glanced at the computer and thought he could, you know, just accidentally look at her membership file and accidentally memorize her phone number. Then what? Text her, “Hey, I’m that guy from the library, wanna go for coffee or something?   He rubbed his hand down his face in frustration. Yeah, starting off as a stalker is going to get you far. He quickly shut down the computer before he got himself in trouble, then grabbed his backpack and jacket and headed out. His stomach rumbled again, this time more aggressively urging him to find the nearest fast food on the way home.

He kicked the door with his heel as he came inside his tiny apartment. There was a faint click as the door latched shut behind him. There was just enough light in the apartment to see as the evening darkened the skies and street lights turned on outside. He slid his backpack on the couch and plopped down next to it, and opened the paper sack that held his dinner, Chowmein noodles. He leaned back, slid his laptop on his lap, powered it up, then clicked the remote, and turned his T.V. on. Just in time for “Horrorfest.” He thought and took a big messy bite of noodles. “House,” the nineteen eighty-four classic starring William Katt, played softly in the background as his laptop glowed to life. He did need to watch it, and it was really there for background noise. He had seen it half a dozen times, but it was still on his favorites list.

            He opened his email: spam, spam, spam. About what I was expecting closed it and then clicked on an icon on his desktop. The Icon was a black handprint on a white background. His favorite blog, “Hand-prints of Darkness.” It is a blog about the eighties and nineties horror classics. He took another bite, slurping up a stray noodle with a whooshing sound, and started reading. Today’s blog post was about “Phantasm.” Technically, it was made in nineteen seventy-nine, not the eighties or nineties, but one of the things he liked about this blog was that if it was a good horror movie, they blogged about it, no matter when it was made. He wasn’t a big fan of Phantasm. Its dreamlike, surreal imagery made it hard to follow the plot, and Will thought it was better if you watched the first three movies in reverse order. He read the blog, mostly agreeing with some of the commentary, surprised by a new insight that never occurred to him, smiled, and nodded to himself. Aside from the topic itself, being horror movies, the blogger “Serenity Gates” was what made him enjoy this blog the most. Whoever she was in real life, he didn’t have a clue. Her bio was non-descript, and there was no photo of her. But she had phenomenal content, deep insight, and wit, which kept him reading. He ordinarily hated reading, but this wasn’t a podcast, and he was addicted to the content. The memory of explaining why he listened to audiobooks in the library instead of reading to, Alchemy… er Chemy sent a flurry of butterflies through his belly. His face flushed red, and butterflies danced around as that memory washed over him. Might as well stop thinking of her, your never going to see her again. He had been distracted by grabbing noodles and reading the blog; he had thought he had forgotten the strange, exciting encounter. He shook his head to clear away thoughts of her, then leaned back and put his feet on the coffee table as he closed his laptop. The scene in “House” where Richard Moll, playing “Big Ben” stalking Roger Cobb in the swamps of Vietnam, was playing now. My favorite part! He thought as he finished his noodles. The movie played out, his eyelids grew heavy, and he faded away to sleep.

art · Emergence Collective · Horror · poetry · Uncategorized · writing

R&R Weekend

Joe HallettLeave a comment

It’s Monday again, back to the routine of work, eat, sleep, repeat. Sadly, I live my life waiting for 2 days out of the week. Ever feel that the other 5 days should be just as fun? I did about as little as I could get away with this weekend. To steal a quote from Office space, “I did absolutely nothing, and it was everything I thought it could be. A little rest and relaxation. A big chunk of it was spent annihilating the bad guys on Battlefield 2042. Wasted time, if enjoyed, is not wasted. Now that I flushed away my weekend productivity, It’s time to get my brain in gear and write some shit. Even though I am not actively putting words down on digital paper, I am still rolling thoughts and ideas about the story. I have been thinking about two other stories that I am very excited to start, but I am restraining myself from starting those, or I will have too many things going (My usual MO) and never finish the first project. (Pretty much sums up my life)

Emergence Collective · Horror · writing

Monthaversary!

Joe Hallett2 Comments

So it has been 1 month since I started this blog. I’m going to give myself Kudos for Sticking with it! I tend to start a lot of projects that I soon abandoned. Short attention span, ADD, get bored with it, all the good excuses to move on to the next thing. But here I am, still trying it. In retrospect, I should have started blogging years ago. I discovered that blogging is actually fun to do, and it has done a couple positive things for me. For one, I am meeting a lot of cool people. I enjoy the community and interactions I am having, reading other blogs, getting improvement tips. Also, It keeps me in a creative mindset. So far …. no haters. Wow.            

I started this blog primarily to promote my Book “Emergence Collective” and other writing projects. But it is also turning into its own creative outlet. So a big thank you to everyone who has checked it out, especially those who choose to follow me. Your time is precious, and I sincerely appreciate you spending some of it here.

For those who haven’t been here before or have only read a few of my posts, I suggest you check out some of my earlier posts. May I recommend my Character snapshots of  “Emergence collective.”

Character snapshot: Barney Derrick

Character snapshot: Frank

Character snapshot: Willy Winston

Character snapshot: Mark and Trina

Character snapshot: The hole

Or if you like Horror, maybe check out “Alone.” It is a quick read, only 21 pages.

Thank you everyone who has checked out my blog!

Emergence Collective · Horror · Uncategorized · writing

Write as if you are an orphan.

Joe HallettLeave a comment

I can’t remember where I heard that, but I think its harder than it sounds. Even though I write for myself, because I am compelled to, I think about who is reading it. Friends, family, strangers. But I think it inhibits the content of my writing, as I am always easing off the gas when it comes to graphic scenes of violence and sex. I, however, am an unabashed reader of those things, so Why can’t I write it? I sincerely applaud those that are brave enough to navigate those waters (as I stand on the shore looking on with envy). Maybe I will be brave enough to let loose a little one day.

Horror · writing

Work shoppin’ stuff

Joe HallettLeave a comment

I mentioned before about writing long-form vignettes (If that’s what they are called) as inspired by “Bloggin’ about Yaudi” a blog I read. So I am going to give it a go, and just workshop a little scary story idea I’ve had creeping around my noggin… I do want to expand on it, not to novel-length but flesh out more of it, but here is the gist…

Phantom Black

The beam of light pierced the veil. Like an ugly knife wound tearing a rough, misshapen hole in the darkness. The light touched a tentacle of the creature, a warm tingle drawing its attention. Confused and curious, it extended its tentacles, reaching, feeling the jagged edges of the opening. It wrapped its tentacles around it with more confusion about the nature of this new thing in its world, then examined the edges, feeling its solidity. Reaching in and gaining purchase on the inside surface, it began to pull itself through, marveling at the warm tingly, yet slight stinging sensation on its skin.

                The scientists fiddled with the device with excited banter, enthusiastic about their apparent success. The device looked like an over-engineered paint spray gun. One of the scientists adjusted a setting on the machine, causing a pleasant harmonic tone to emanate from it. The other scientist poured a black viscous liquid into a small vat attached to the instrument with tubes, hoses, and electrical connections. The first scientist starts speaking into a recorder, taking verbal notes with a shaky, excited voice. “four-thirty two hertz to four forty hertz seems to be the correct resonant frequencies to properly align the filaments. We have achieved approximately….” He looks up at the other scientist and nods his head slightly, prompting the missing information.

                “Ninety-nine point nine, nine percent.” The other scientist reads off of a computer monitor in a matter-of-fact tone.

                “Yes, right. Ninety-nine point nine, nine percent of photon absorption.” He continued, “We have found with the increased amplitude and voltage, the harmonic frequencies will correctly align the carbon nanotubes vertically; gave us an additional twenty percent efficiency.” He said, his voice still quivering with obvious exhilaration.

                Tentacles wavered through the opening, touching the air feeling the strange tingle of the light. As it pushed deeper into the new expanse, it could feel a vibration of sound emanating from inside this new space. It waved a tentacle sniffing the air, searching for the source of the vibrations. With so many new sensations, the creature grew eager and more curious. It pulled itself through the hole, sniffing and feeling.

                With their backs turned away from the black painted surface, the scientists quickly prepared their device for the new round of testing; the creature probed a tentacle towards them. The probing tentacle extended toward the sound vibrations and detected a unique sensation that triggered a biological response; Hunger.

writing

Back burners

Joe Hallett1 Comment

Don’t forget to check on those things you put on the back burner every now and then. I have enough plans on the back burner, It looks like Hells kitchen. My process (do I have a process?)  is that I am thinking of different projects and story ideas all the time. Sometimes I jot down an idea about one story then immediately start thinking of another, building plots and motivations. I’ve been doing this for a long time; if I was disciplined, I would have several books by now. Only recently have I actually started making it a priority (This blog is helping with that too.) 

There is an indie author I really enjoy Phil Rossi, he wrote a bunch of short stories based on the world he created. Like long-form vignettes. I like that idea for two reasons; one is that it keeps you writing and adds content, and two, it expands the world-building and gives possible new material that you can use in your main storyline. Callbacks and references can be Easter eggs that are nice little treats for fans that are in the know. I think it’s a brilliant idea.

In addition to writing vignettes to add density to my world-building, I have several stories brewing in my head; I am not sure if they will become novels or not. A couple of them I am particularly excited to start fleshing out. After I finished “Emergence Collective,” I planned to do just that, but I got distracted with the second book and started writing it. Pushed back onto the back burner, but not forgotten.

“Emergence Collective” went in a direction that I wasn’t really aiming for, and I actually surprised myself that it did go that way. My next stories are less scifi fantasy spiritualism and more horror. Which is honestly one of my favorite genres. Hardcore science fiction and horror are my “go to’s.”  Hopefully, I can do the genre justice. (Stay tuned for that!)

A blogger SMVLTUDEAU “Bloggin about Yaudi,” gave me an idea I am considering about workshopping stories on the blog.  I think it can build interest in the stories and you could crowd source feedback. I will have to give it some though about if it will help or hinder the story progression.