Tag: short story

30-minute shivers. · about me · Audible · Author · blogging · Emergence Ascended · Emergence Collective · Horror · Instagram · NaNoWriMo · narrators · readers · reading · science fiction

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Joe HallettLeave a comment

I have always liked that saying. I don’t know why. Maybe I enjoy duality. As I poke my head out of the cave of 2023 into the dawning of 2024 I am looking ahead for a great writing year. I have some great intentions, both long-term and short-term.

I will pause here and do my obligatory reflections of 2023. I’ll start with the fun stuff, I published another novel “Emergence Ascended.” I Wrote a novel for NaNoWriMo, which was a bucket list item. (Now I feel like I can legitimately say I am a Novelist.) I Did an interview on Youtube to promote my new novel (It didn’t help, but it was a fun experience). If you follow my social media accounts you may notice that I do not do the random selfie post as I prefer to stay in the background (Introvert stuff) but in the spirit of self-promotion I powered through.

There is probably more highlights of fun things in 2023 but sometimes I want to keep things for me. That being said there was some interesting things in 2023, just to keep it spicy. The big one is a series of events starting with a road rage incident, our vehicle got a nice bullet hole. Sent it to the bodyshop for repair, of which there was a break in and OUR vehicle was stolen to commit a crime. It was recovered a month later with a group of homeless occupying it in an alleyway. Toxicology report deemed it hazardous and it had to be ‘totaled’ by the insurance (we didn’t want to drive a Meth car anyway.) Replaced the vehicle with a new one from the insurance money. Whew. But that is not all. A month later a windstorm took out a tree, causing it to fall onto our home, and, Guess what?… The new Van. Yup. Lucky it was a glancing blow and our Insurance (again) fixed the repairs for that (No we did not take it to the same bodyshop) But wait there is more. Our upstairs bathtub cracked and flooded the garage. SO now we have a shiny new bath room remodel (that we are still paying for at the cost of 400$ a month)All in all, though it was a financially and mentally stressful year, we survived, and I still think the good outweighed the bad as far as 2023 goes.

Whats next? I have some very good intentions for the year coming up. First on my agenda is to finish “Yellow Man.” the novel I wrote for NaNoWriMo. There are some good bones in the story, and I am working on fleshing out some details and adding things I missed or neglected in the first rough draft. Who knows how long this process is going to take me, but I am optimistic I can get it finished soonish.

I have several more stories I want to get down. Most are just thumbnail thoughts, and don’t have names yet. The “Bigfoot” story is next after Yellow Man. I love Cryptids and am excited to get that one rolling. I have two possible endings rolling around, I guess I will decide when I get there. Another one is the Will-o-the-wisp story. I want to get that one done before the BIG project. The Big Project is a storyline that will turn into a series (more than likely) with some vignettes here and there. There is a great setting that I thing I can create a small little world around with different adventures to play with. But this one I am going to give a lot of thought while I finish the other three stories. I want to get those out of the way because I predict that the big project will consume a few years (at the least, unless I get bored or distracted, which is probable)

Of course I will keep on keeping on with the blog. I will jot down some more short stories for your enjoyment. I am still compiling short stories for my book “30-minute Shivers.” A collection of short horror stories.

The Audible project, I intend to start recording (for realz this time) on Sunday mornings. I can enjoy my new “recording studio” and give you my least cringy narration to Emergence Collective on Spotify.

Thank you for spending your time visiting my blog; I sincerely appreciate it. I love interacting and building friendships, so feel free to comment and like. You can follow my socials and other projects by clicking the linktree. https://linktr.ee/jshallett

30-minute shivers. · Horror · Vampire

Cellar Door.

Joe HallettLeave a comment

Here is a Halloween flash fiction that I had wanted to get out last night (on Halloween duh). However, I got busy and did not get a chance to finish it, with all the ritual sacrifices and ceremonies to do. I mean handing out candy and lighting candles for trick-or-treaters (Of which we got zero, and ended up watching the movie Halloween and eating the candy). Anyway, here is my little story “Cellar Door.” It is based on a reoccurring dream I have had all my life, about the cabin I grew up in, in Alaska.

Cellar door.

At sixteen, Kyle was excited for the trip to the cottage he and his family spent their summers in Romania. He didn’t know the details, and he didn’t really care how it came to be that his family would start the trek overseas each year to the remote village. Kyle was excited nonetheless about the trip, not so much the destination, because what teenager wants to spend another summer in a small remote village? If he was lucky, he would meet a girl his age; that would at least make the trip worth it.

They did pretty well on the flight so far. Kyle and his younger brother, Cam, a six-year-old, could only behave so long before getting bored. They found the flight attendant to be a good source of entertainment, and lucky for them, it wasn’t the flight attendant’s first rodeo. She was good-natured about the constant requests for more snacks and sodas and even slipped Cam a few extra packages of crackers with a ‘just between us’ wink. That garnered an unspoken alliance between them. As long as the snacks were constantly flowing, his behavior would be in check.

The attendant trundled the meal cart down the aisle, handing out dinners and drinks before the lights dimmed for the evening on the overnight flight. It was already quiet, and more than a few passengers had already curled up as best they could in the uncomfortable seats. Kyle, who took the privilege of the aisle seat, discreetly peeked behind him down the aisle. Meal time was a great time to get a long look at the attendant’s curvy features without restriction. She eventually made her way to their seats, handing off dinners to his parents across the aisle. Kyle watched her bend over, reaching to hand off a meal tray to the window seat. Despite the distraction of his newfound curiosity, he spied the drawer with the alcohol mini bottles. The drawer was partway opened, and he could see a few bottles were easily within reach.

He waited for her to serve the next tray of food, then reached out as quietly as a ghost, catching hold of three of the bottles. He quickly tucked them under his leg, just in time, as the attendant finished the other side of the aisle and began to serve him and his brother. His heart pounded, and the adrenaline surged as she leaned over to hand Cam his meal.He was truly thrilled; she was so close he could almost feel the heat from her breast on his face, and the smell of her perfume was intoxicating.

He had to concentrate to keep his body from responding in embarrassing ways. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to imagine anything else than his proximity to the attendant, his raging hormones almost winning the battle.

     “Are you okay? You look flushed,” the attendant asked Kyle. The shockwave of embarrassment quelled any physical response his body may have been considering. His eyes shot open, startled back to reality. He recovered as well as he could, mumbling something about being hungry, and took his tray with shaky hands.

                She made her way further up the aisle, sparing him any more embarrassment. Kyle glanced at Cam, who was busy dissecting his ‘lab tray’ of food, too intent on it to pay any attention to him. Now that the coast was clear, he began extracting the mini bottles from under his leg, cracked the cap as silently as possible, and then poured each one into the plastic cup of soda on his tray table. Phase one complete, he thought, then slammed the burning liquid down his throat. Vodka. He almost choked and spit out the vile liquid, half wondering what he was thinking until the burning started to wane, and the warmth began to feel good, causing his cheeks to flush again.

                The heady liquid hit his adolescent body like a sledgehammer. The most alcohol he had ever had was in the cough syrup his mother gave him when he was sick, and that wasn’t enough to make him feel anything. He now understood what ‘buzzed’ meant and felt. He leaned forward and stashed the empty bottles in the pocket of the seat in front of him, his crime going unnoticed, and then ate his meal as if nothing had happened.

The pretty flight attendant began pushing the meal cart back to the galley. He watched her as she made her way back, accepting empty meal trays and plastic cups into her trash bag. Passing his seat, she stopped to take the refuse from the passengers behind him; he couldn’t help but indulge in another look at her posterior. Now infused with liquid bravery, the urge to touch her was uninhibited.

     “What in the hell are you doing?” his father stage whispered, trying to be forceful without causing a scene,  stopping Kyle mere inches away from touching her. The stoned-faced glare was all Kyle needed, and he sat back in his seat, pretending nothing had happened. He was grateful that the flight attendant was too busy with her duties to notice the near miss and his father’s rebuke. His father shook his head in wonder at Kyle’s behavior, but Kyle noticed his father glance at the attendant with an approving twitch of his eyebrow. 

                Feeling like he escaped an embarrassing situation and his father’s wrath, he closed his eyes to enjoy his buzz. Cam leaned over, pointing to the seat pocket in front of Kyle, and asked their father why Kyle got to have the little bottle drinks and he didn’t get any. That fucker, Kyle thought, knowing he was busted. His father leaned over and emptied the seat pockets of the contraband, “First of all, you’re grounded; you’re going to be lucky to see the light of day this entire trip! Go to sleep, and we will discuss this further when we get off this plane.” He said quietly through gritted teeth.

                Kyle knew that he was in it deep. When his father turned that particular shade of red and didn’t yell, he knew that his father was past the point of no return and was only keeping his cool because they were in public. It’s all Cam’s fault, too. Little creep. I’ll get him back, he thought. He leaned his head back and tried to sleep for the rest of the flight.

                The drive from the Airport to the cottage was tense. Kyle got the verbal thrashing he was promised after they landed, and his parents did not seem to want to let it go. It was going to be a long summer. Being grounded in Nowheresville isn’t much of a punishment, at least, he thought.But he didn’t want his parents to know he felt that way. He was mad at himself. He knew he was ruining the trip; they usually had fun on road trips, playing car games and arguing over the radio stations.

                 They finally arrived at the cottage. It was exactly as Kyle remembered it. A quaint stone cottage that looked like it was built at the dawn of time. It was barely big enough for two people to live in, but who knows when, maybe a hundred years ago, someone had built a sizable addition off the back door., almost tripling the living space. Kyle’s ‘room’ was directly past the ‘back door,’ the first part of the addition right next to the washroom. There were about four steps leading down from the original cottage’s back door to his ‘room.’  His bed was a relic in itself. It was so old that it still had ropes supporting the mattress that needed to be tightened every so often to keep it from sagging like a hammock, reminding him of the origin of the saying ‘sleep tight.’

                Everyone was tired and cranky from the long trip. They had made it; the frosty feelings seemed to be thawing, but Kyle didn’t want to press his luck and decided to take a nap after he helped unload the baggage from the car. He slumped on the creeky bed, not really wanting a nap, just the excuse it offered. Kyle lay back and rested quietly, staring around the familiar room, wondering how many people had lived there before and what was the history of the place. Something he didn’t care about when he was Cam’s age, but from his perspective now, being older, his interests were maturing as well.

                He looked at the cobblestone wall of the cottage that separated it from the addition, tracing the grout between the stones with his eyes like a race track. Then, something he never noticed before caught his eye. Under the short steps that lead to his room, he saw what looked like the top of a wrought iron hinge poking up from the earth floor. His curiosity piqued, he crouched under the stairs and began poking around, brushing dirt away from the foundation, revealing more and more of the feature.

                Before too long, he had excavated a foot down from the hinge; he now knew for certain that’s what it was, revealing an old wooden door, And found the upper part of a window that had one of those sliding covers on it like a prison door. He was getting excited now, and he could hear his parents in the front room opening a bottle of wine to officially start the vacation. It was a good thing, too, that would keep them preoccupied while he figured out his next steps.

                He knew that he couldn’t clear enough soil away to open the door, provided it could even be opened after all these years, but he could focus on the window thing. He continued pushing dirt away, packing it as much as he could against the far end of the space under the stairs. He was happy he wasn’t any bigger under there since it was a tight space as it was. He cleared more and more until the entire window plate was plain to see. But now there was a new problem. On the right side of the window plate was a loop and an ancient paddle lock.

                This was going to be a problem. The key had probably been lost long ago, and the lock, covered in dirt and grime, was more than likely rusted shut, or the locking mechanism itself might be too packed with dirt to open. The steel of the lock looked pretty good, giving him hope if he ever found the key. He gave it some thought and decided that what he needed was a prybar. He could still hear his parents enjoying their bottle of wine. It was going to be a long summer, and he had time.

                He dusted himself off and cleaned up some of the evidence of the excavation. Tucked under the stairs, where no one looked, he was certain that his project would go unnoticed. He had to go look for something to take care of the lock. Of course, finding the keys would be optimum, but that was a long shot in the extreme. He could only guess, but the ballpark figure he would throw out there was at least one hundred years, but honestly, he felt it was much longer; it could be three hundred or more easy, and the probability of that one key still hanging around was a pipe dream. Find a prybar.

                His parents made things easy for him, though they didn’t know it. They spontaneously decided to go to the lake that was on the edge of the property. The beautiful thing was that it was too close to justify driving and just far enough away to take a little time to hike there. Kyle had hours to work once he came up with a good enough reason to stay at the cottage. But that problem solved itself again. I guess being grounded means I have to stay home to be punished. He thought as his parents and Cam headed out, carrying a backpack of snacks and towels; Cam more dragged his then carried.

                And suddenly, Kyle was alone; he didn’t even have time to pretend to be sad about being left out. He waited patiently until his family was out of sight; then, he was all about the search. He started in the main room, which would have been the only room in the cottage had it not been for the addition. Nothing he found could be used as a prybar, and of course, nothing close to a set of keys that would magically be the exact right ones he needed.

                He still felt good he had enough time to keep searching. Kyle felt dumb, as it occurred to him that the tool shed the name says it all, dummy, should have exactly what he needed. Kyle almost ran to the tool shed; it looked as if it was built in the Middle Ages as well. The rickety old door of the shed looked as if it only needed one more stiff breeze to push it off its hinges. Kyle carefully pulled the door open, its rust hinges screaming for mercy. No one had been in here for decades, at the very least, and the tools looked like they hadn’t been touched for longer. An even coating of rust and dust coated everything.

                 He stepped in, kicking up dust, and looked around. He didn’t even recognize some of the tools, and some he only saw in pictures or drawings. Did people actually use scythes? He wondered. He rummaged around, finally finding what he was looking for the prybar, a catspaw; he recalled its name but, for the life of him, couldn’t say where he had learned it. Renewed excitement came over as he rushed to the cellar door, ready to get to the next part of the project. The curiosity burned inside him.

                He eagerly stabbed the catspaw into the lock and wrenched. The lock, clasp, and hinge slid out like butter, as the decaying old wood had long ago lost any strength it had once had. Had he tried before, he would have realized all he needed to do was pull on the darn thing, not the tool or key required. He shrugged and looked at the panel covering the window opening on the door. As easy as the lock, the panel that was supposed to slide out of the way peeled away from the door like a shedding skin.

                 He was half expecting a puff of air, like from in a movie when they opened an old Egyptian tomb, but there was nothing as exciting as that, just the soft thump of the panel on the soil. The panel was gone, revealing a rectangular black void behind it. There was a pleasant earthen musty smell that reminded Kyle of fall, anything left in there to rot and leave an oder had done so long ago. Having made good progress with the door, Kyle’s curiosity was on overdrive. He reached in his pocket for his phone; the flashlight function was a handy thing to always have with you. You never know when you are going to need to peek into an ancient root cellar. Kyle thought with a grin, his excitement making him giddy.

                He panned the light from his phone in a wide arc, but the room was bigger than it seemed, and it was hard to see past his own hand. He decided to take a video, which made more sense the more he thought about it; he would want a video anyway if only to show his friends back in the States. He caught a glint of something as he was pulling his phone back to switch on the video recorder. He quickly started recording and shoved his hand back in to see if he could get a better look at whatever had caught his eye.              

                It was far easier to see what was going on in the dark room, watching the screen on his phone. Now that he could see better, he panned left and right, trying to get a good video of the room. There it was again, the glint that caught his eye the first time. It seemed like something shiny at first, but this time, it was a pale white movement in the far corner. A little startled, it was eyes playing tricks; he quickly pointed the phone in that direction., but it was gone.

                The front door slamming jolted Kyle; he was so engrossed with the cellar he had lost track of time, or they came home early. Jerking his hand back at the sound of the door slamming, that twerp Cam, the phone slipped. “Fuck!” he blurted as his phone landed softly on the floor of the cellar. He crawled back out from under the stairs with a vengeance on his mind, his heart still pounding from getting startled. “Cam! Get in here!” Kyle yelled into the front room. Cam came trotting over, wondering what Kyle was so worked up over.

                Cam came to the doorway out of breath and sweaty. “Where are you?” he huffed a gulp of air between breaths as he looked around the seemingly empty room.

     “Down here,” Kyle said, sounding desperate. “I need your help.” Cam groaned at the request, but being the youngest meant he was told what to do by everyone. He dropped the flippers and snorkel he had come back to the cottage to fetch. He jumped down the stairs with a loud thump, then crouched under the stairs with his brother. “Whoa, what are you doing?” he said, looking at the mound of dirt that was heaved into a pile. “I don’t think you are supposed to do that. You’re gonna get into trouble! He said with a sing-song voice.

     “It’s really cool. I found this old door; check it out!”

                Cam crawled in next to Kyle to take a better look, imagining a secret treasure horde. “Wow, it’s so dark, though,” Cam said apprehensively.

     “I dropped my phone, trying to see what’s in there. You need to get it.” Kyle said as he formed a plan in his mind. Cam was just small enough to squeeze through the opening. Cam peeked over the edge and looked down; he could see the faint glow of the phone screen sitting face down on the dirt floor.

      “I will just hold your legs and lower you down, easy peasy. It’ll be quick!” Kyle coaxed his brother.

     “I’m not going in there,” Cam said, shaking his head.

      “Alright then, I’m gonna keep all the treasure myself. He said, taunting Cam. “There will be nothing to it.

                Cam groaned in submission and lay down on his belly, preparing for the descent. Kyle grabbed his ankles, and Cam began to scoot forward. Cam reached out, stretching. His little body was just inches too short to reach. He stretched farther, kicking his feet for traction, causing Kyle to start to lose his grip. “Stop squirming, Twerp, I’m going to drop you if you don’t stop!” As soon as he said that, Cam slipped out of his grasp with a soft thump. “Ow!” he complained as he scrambled to his feet. He looked up at his brother, reaching through the small opening. “Come on, grab my phone!” Kyle said urgently. Cam bent down and grabbed the phone, its lights temporarily blinding Cam in the darkness. He covered his eyes and blindly reached toward Kyle but was nowhere close to the handoff.

                Something shuffled. A small movement on the far side of the room sent a shockwave of fear through little Cam. It was so sudden that Cam almost peed himself and was now frantic to get out. He tossed the phone through the window slit, sending it sliding past the stairs in a skitter. “Get me out! Get me out!” Cam cried as Kyle stretched to reach him. Their hands met, and Kyle began to pull. Cam’s chest hurt as the bottom of the window plate scraped along as he was lifted.

                Cam was pulled to his waist now, kicking and squirming as he tried to inch his way out of the opening. He futilely kicked again, brushing past something that wasn’t there before sending him into complete panic. “There is something in here; something touched me!” He cried out. Kyle heaved back hard, dragging Cam out of the hole, his legs almost completely free. Cam’s eyes went wide, and he went silent. Time seemed to stop at that moment. Kyle watched, stunned, as Cam was jerked suddenly back through the window slit, making a stifled squeak as he went through.

                Kyle scrambled back to the opening, his protective instinct overriding his fear. “Cam!” he yelled as he poked his head in as far as he could, trying to see Cam. Nothing, it was completely black in there. Kyle screamed for Cam again, then listened to see if he could tell where Cam was. All he heard was a strange slurping sound that sent a jolt of fear that was so strong his bladder let loose. Then, there was a sharp cracking noise as the cellar door gave way in a landslide, pulling Kyle in with it.

                An hour later, Cam and Kyle’s parents had been taking too long to get back to the lake. They slogged their way back to the cottage.

     “Cam!, Kyle? Where are  you?” Kyle’s father yelled, not sure if he should be angry or worried. They went into the cottage calling out but heard nothing. Getting nervous, they went to the back room. Their mother looked in and saw fresh dirt scattered across the floor and Kyle’s phone, still gleaming and still recording. She walked over and picked it up with shaking hands, afraid to watch what was recorded. She stopped the recording and hit play as something shuffled under the stairs behind her.

30-minute shivers. · Horror · Phantom black

Phantom black 4 (conclusion)

Joe HallettLeave a comment

Finished, not polished. But I think it’s enough to get a good story out of it. Of course, I will add it to the 30-minute Shivers collection, a collection of my horror stories that I will eventually publish as a book.

I decided to just keep adding to the story as I go, and posting the entire thing, rather than just the separate parts. For new readers or those that haven’t read it yet, I wanted to make it easy to consume the entire thing at once…

If you enjoy this please give it a like and feel free to comment!

Phantom black

                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 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, giving us an additional twenty percent efficiency.” He said, his voice still quivering with obvious exhilaration.

            The scientist that poured the fluid into the contraption turned to a wall with a stark white square painted across its surface, then began to spray. A five-foot blob of black paint appeared on the wall. The scientist had to stop at that point as vertigo overcame him, and he swayed on unstable feet. To look into the blackness was to see a complete void that lied to his brain and made him dizzy as if falling into a never-ending hole.

            He set the sprayer down and stumbled to the other scientist that was busy monitoring the equipment. He laughed as he walked drunkenly back to the monitors. “I can’t believe it! I felt like I was going to fall into it for a minute!” he said, finally reaching the desk where he could grab hold and steady his feat.

The beam of light pierced the veil. Like an ugly knife wound tearing a rough, misshapen hole in the darkness. The light touched the creature’s tentacle, 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 slightly stinging sensation on its skin.

                Tentacles wavered through the opening, touching the air and 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.

            The tentacle wrapped around one of the scientists and pulled closer to the creature. Strange and delightful sensations came from it. It was warm and squishy and made sound vibrations that pleasantly tickled its senses. A warm gush of liquid poured out when it was pulled apart, metallic and salty. The creature pulled the pieces into its beak-like maw, enjoying the warm salty, and chewy sensations. It was intoxicating. Its first taste of this new food unleashed an unapologetic yearning for more as it felt the nutrients provided a near-explosive growth.

            The sounds the other scientist made while the creature devoured his comrade intensified. The creature hesitated despite its sudden craving for the new sensations of the food source, but the sounds of it were so compelling it wasn’t sure it wanted it to stop. The creature decided to split the difference by plucking the other scientist up but only pulling off and eating one appendage at a time. This seemed to work as the appendage tore away; the sound reached a pitch that sent shivers of ecstasy through the creature’s body. To the creature’s disappointment, the sounds abruptly stopped after the warm salty liquid stopped draining from the stump end of the appendage.

It finished consuming the still delicious treat when the door burst open. Several people rushed into the room to investigate the screams that echoed through the facility’s hallways. They skidded to a halt just inside the laboratory as the carnage stunned them into indecision. The creature didn’t hesitate and snatched up the first one that entered the room and sucked it into its maw. They screamed.

The creature stretched out into the hallway with fluid, almost vapor-like movements exploring the hallway. It could feel the vibrations of the footfalls of these new treats all around it, behind doors or around corners. It was glad for the new space to explore as its size increased with explosive growth. Every morsel it consumed is added to its now immense bulk and hunger.

It found a few more treats in a room at the end of the hall. The pleasant sound they made drew its attention to them. It enjoyed the first, particularly plump and juicy; its lower baritone screams added to the enjoyment like a savory spice. It allowed the increasing volume and intensity of the screams of the other two to carry on for a moment as it indulged in the cacophony of their anguish and fear until it could no longer resist the craving of the flesh.

The walls and hallway of the building became confining as it continued to consume more and more. It reached farther with a tentacle until it breached the front entrance. Finding more freedom of movement, it nearly gushed through the doorway to the outside. There were many new things outside the facility, strobing lights and new sound vibrations. These new sounds were not pleasant, like the noise the prey made. The frequency of the sirens was annoying and almost painful, dampening the joy of gluttony it was feeling.

It extended a tentacle outward to the nearest the offending vehicle and wiped it out of existence in one swipe of the now enormous appendage. This seemed to excite the human creatures. They reacted by flinging metal fragments from small pipes that they carried. These projectiles didn’t penetrate the creature and only served to further its annoyance. It swiped its tentacle back the other way, scooping up a vast swath of the prey creatures, then it sucked them into its beaked maw with a wooshing sound.

The influx of biomass added to its bulk, encouraging new and faster growth. The changes surprised the creature as it felt a metamorphosis deep within it. New appendages began to sprout, and its body became more adapted, evolving from an amorphous glob of tentacles to a more distinct form. The new budding appendages started taking shape, expanding outward, fan-like.    

The creature flexed these new appendages once, causing an enormous blast of wind dispersing many human creatures and their devices. Incoming flying machines spouting metal projectiles and explosive missiles avoided the gust initially, but the stinging sensations of these new attacks angered the beast.  

It stretched its wings and flapped again, stirring more hurricane-force winds, and began to lift, sending many flying machines spiraling toward the ground. It flew high into the sky despite the enormous mass it now had; it rose like a titanic blimp into the atmosphere. This high vantage gave it a perspective f this world, and it was drawn to the shining light of a large city, where it knew it could feast on these creatures.

The flying machines continued pestering the creature, but it barely noticed anymore. They were dispatched with a flap of its enormous wings as its avarice for the human flesh drew it closer to the city. It swooped down and could hear the delightful screams and almost taste the fear, only to encourage its gluttony. It opened its maw, sending its tentacles to snatch up hundreds of the humans, then slurped them into its awaiting gullet. Unsated, it continued, its gluttonous path rejoicing in the anguished screams of its prey as it went, then it saw it. It saw a sizeable oval-shaped building, a stadium. The roar of the crowd beckoned it like a dinner bell….

30-minute shivers. · Horror · Phantom black · writing

Phantom Black (3)

Joe HallettLeave a comment
This is a photo of the material Vantablack (Vertically aligned nanotubes.) A real pigment developed with 99.96 light absorption.

A few more paragraphs. Hey, this is how my brain does stuff, a little here, a dash there. One reason why it takes me so long to produce anything, I am busy doing every other thing. This little short horror is planned on being entered into a project, “30 minute shivers” a collection of short horror stories. The final version may end up completely different, Im just putting thoughts down.

Phantom Black

                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 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, giving us an additional twenty percent efficiency.” He said, his voice still quivering with obvious exhilaration.

            The scientist that poured the fluid into the contraption turned to a wall with a stark white square painted across its surface, then began to spray. A five-foot blob of black paint appeared on the wall. The scientist had to stop at that point as vertigo overcame him, and he swayed on unstable feet. To look into the blackness was to see a complete void that lied to his brain and made him dizzy as if falling into a never-ending hole.

            He set the sprayer down and stumbled to the other scientist, that was busy monitoring the equipment. He laughed as he walked drunkenly back to the monitors. “I can’t believe it! I felt like I was going to fall into it for a minute!” he said, finally reaching the desk where he could grab hold and steady his feat.

The beam of light pierced the veil. Like an ugly knife wound tearing a rough, misshapen hole in the darkness. The light touched the creature’s tentacle, 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 slightly stinging sensation on its skin.

                Tentacles wavered through the opening, touching the air and 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.

            The tentacle wrapped around one of the scientists and pulled closer to the creature. Strange and delightful sensations came from it. It was warm and squishy and made sound vibrations that pleasantly tickled its senses. A warm gush of liquid poured out when it was pulled apart, metallic and salty. The creature pulled the pieces into its beak-like maw, enjoying the warm salty and chewy sensations. It was intoxicating. Its first taste of this new food unleashed an unapologetic yearning for more as it felt the nutrients provided a near-explosive growth.

            The sounds the other scientist made while the creature devoured his comrade intensified. The creature hesitated despite its sudden craving for the new sensations of the food source, but the sounds of it were so compelling it wasn’t sure it wanted it to stop. The creature decided to split the difference by plucking the other scientist up but only pulling off and eating one appendage at a time. This seemed to work as the appendage tore away; the sound reached a pitch that sent shivers of ecstasy through the creature’s body. To the creature’s disappointment, the sounds abruptly stopped after the warm salty liquid stopped draining from the stump end of the appendage.

It finished consuming the still delicious treat when the door burst open. Several people rushed into the room to investigate the screams that echoed through the facility’s hallways. They skidded to a halt just inside the laboratory as the carnage stunned them into indecision. The creature didn’t hesitate and snatched up the first one that entered the room and sucked it into its maw. They screamed.

The creature stretched out into the hallway with fluid, almost vapor-like movements exploring the hallway. It could feel the vibrations of the footfalls of these new treats all around it, behind doors or around corners. It was glad for the new space to explore as its size increased with explosive growth. Every morsel it consumed is added to its now immense bulk and hunger.

It found a few more treats in a room at the end of the hall. The pleasant sound they made drew its attention to them. It enjoyed the first, particularly plump and juicy; its lower baritone screams added to the enjoyment like a savory spice. It allowed the increasing volume and intensity of the screams of the other two to carry on for a moment as it indulged in the cacophony of their anguish and fear until it could no longer resist the craving of the flesh.

The walls and hallway of the building became confining as it continued to consume more and more. It reached farther with a tentacle until it breached the front entrance. Finding more freedom of movement, it nearly gushed through the doorway to the outside. There were many new things outside the facility, strobing lights and new sound vibrations. These new sounds were not pleasant, like the noise the prey made. The frequency of the sirens was annoying and almost painful, dampening the joy of gluttony it was feeling.

It extended a tentacle outward to the nearest the offending vehicle and wiped it out of existence in one swipe of the now enormous appendage. This seemed to excite the human creatures. They reacted by flinging metal fragments from small pipes that they carried. These projectiles didn’t penetrate the creature and only served to further its annoyance. It swiped its tentacle back the other way, scooping up a huge swath of the prey creatures, then it sucked them into its beaked maw with a wooshing sound.

Horror · science fiction

Phantom Black (2)

Joe Hallett2 Comments

Added a few more paragraphs.

Phantom Black

                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 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, giving us an additional twenty percent efficiency.” He said, his voice still quivering with obvious exhilaration.

            The scientist that poured the fluid into the contraption turned to a wall with a stark white square painted across its surface, then began to spray. A five-foot blob of black paint appeared on the wall. The scientist had to stop at that point as vertigo overcame him, and he swayed on unstable feet. To look into the blackness was to see a complete void that lied to his brain and made him dizzy as if falling into a never-ending hole.

            He set the sprayer down and stumbled to the other scientist, that was busy monitoring the equipment. He laughed as he walked drunkenly back to the monitors. “I can’t believe it! I felt like I was going to fall into it for a minute!” he said, finally reaching the desk where he could grab hold and steady his feat.

The beam of light pierced the veil. Like an ugly knife wound tearing a rough, misshapen hole in the darkness. The light touched the creature’s tentacle, 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 slightly stinging sensation on its skin.

                Tentacles wavered through the opening, touching the air and 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.

            The tentacle wrapped around one of the scientists and pulled closer to the creature. Strange and delightful sensations came from it. It was warm and squishy and made sound vibrations that pleasantly tickled its senses. A warm gush of liquid poured out when it was pulled apart, metallic and salty. The creature pulled the pieces into its beak-like maw, enjoying the warm salty and chewy sensations. It was intoxicating. Its first taste of this new food unleashed an unapologetic yearning for more as it felt the nutrients provided a near-explosive growth.

            The sounds the other scientist made while the creature devoured his comrade intensified. The creature hesitated despite its sudden craving for the new sensations of the food source, but the sounds of it were so compelling it wasn’t sure it wanted it to stop. The creature decided to split the difference by plucking the other scientist up but only pulling off and eating one appendage at a time. This seemed to work as the appendage tore away; the sound reached a pitch that sent shivers of ecstasy through the creature’s body. To the creature’s disappointment, the sounds abruptly stopped after the warm salty liquid stopped draining from the stump end of the appendage.

It finished consuming the still delicious treat when the door burst open. Several people rushed into the room to investigate the screams that echoed through the facility’s hallways. They skidded to a halt just inside the laboratory as the carnage stunned them into indecision. The creature didn’t hesitate and snatched up the first one that entered the room and sucked it into its maw. They screamed.

The creature stretched out into the hallway with fluid, almost vapor-like movements exploring the hallway. It could feel the vibrations of the footfalls of these new treats all around it, behind doors or around corners. It was glad for the new space to explore as its size continued to increase with explosive growth. Every morsel it consumed is added to its now immense bulk.

Author · Horror

Phantom Black (workshoppin’ a story idea.)

Joe Hallett2 Comments

I posted a part of this story idea before, but I tweaked it a little and thought Id share. This story is a slow burn in the back of my mind. I am compiling some of my short horror stories into a book called “30-minute shivers”.

Phantom Black.

Phantom Black

               
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 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, giving us an additional twenty percent efficiency.”
He said, his voice still quivering with obvious exhilaration.

            The scientist that poured the fluid into the contraption turned to a wall with a stark
white square painted across its surface, then began to spray. A five-foot blob
of black paint appeared on the wall. The scientist had to stop at that point as
vertigo overcame him, and he swayed on unstable feet. To look into the
blackness was to see a complete void that lied to his brain and made him dizzy
as if falling into a never-ending hole.

            He set the sprayer down and stumbled to the other scientist, that was busy
monitoring the equipment. He laughed as he walked drunkenly back to the
monitors. “I can’t believe it! I felt like I was going to fall into it for
a minute!” he said, finally reaching the desk where he could grab hold and
steady his feat.

 

The beam of light pierced the veil.

 Like an ugly knife wound tearing a rough, misshapen hole in the darkness.
The light touched the creature’s tentacle, 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 slightly
stinging sensation on its skin.

               
Tentacles wavered through the opening, touching the air and 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.

            The tentacle wrapped around one of
the scientists and pulled closer to the creature. Strange and delightful
sensations came from it. It was warm and squishy and made sound vibrations that
pleasantly tickled its senses. A warm gush of liquid poured out when it was
pulled apart, metallic and salty. The creature pulled the pieces into its
beak-like maw, enjoying the warm salty, and chewy sensations. It was intoxicating.
Its first taste of this new food unleashed an unapologetic yearning for more as
it felt the nutrients provided a near-explosive growth.

about me · blogging · writing

Obligatory New Year post!

Joe Hallett4 Comments

I’m back! It’s a new year, and I suppose I will jump on the bandwagon for the year-end/new year transitional post. As far as the blog goes, it is less than a year at this point, but it was successful for a lot of personal reasons. Though the daily stats may not look at all successful, for me it’s not about the numbers of anonymous readers, but the few people that I have met through this blog has made it feel quite successful.

Those stats, on the surface, look amazing, but the truth is that I got suckered into one of those click-through sites. So the amazing number are really a verisimilitude of success. As I was saying, numbers are just numbers. I have met some amazing people from all over the world through my blog and WordPress. I have learned a lot this year about the community of creatives and intellectuals alike.

So do I have new years goals for my blog? My only real goal is to keep at it and try to keep a reliable schedule. I am looking forward to adding a lot more short stories and other writing. Hopefully, I will sell a book or two. I also look forward to meeting more people and get to know the ones I have already met, more. I am always happy to have conversations about just about anything, so if you don’t feel like commenting publically, you can send a message to hello@hand-printsofdarkness.com Thanks for stopping by! Happy Newyear!

Alone · Horror · writing

“Alone” Part 1 of 4

Joe Hallett2 Comments

In the spirit of Spooky season Please enjoy…..

Here ya go! I decided to release the entire short story “Alone”, just for you! This was my first real attempt at writing a complete story. I got the idea from a weird hypnogogic dream. The image of Luis and Randolph kinda popped in my head. I had to write the narrative. The original story is lost to the ether, what is here is a second version of it that I trimmed from the original to meet the requirements of a short story contest. The first version was probably around 10k words, but the requirements were less than 7k (if I recall correct). Anyway I trimmed it down , cutting away some of what, at the time, seemed like fluff., but in retrospect, that “fluff” tightened the narrative. I won first place in the contest, despite the trimming down so I suppose I left enough meat on the bones to make it work.

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

Alone part 1 of 4

He stopped working just for a moment, straining to hear the unnatural sound which only offered itself when his pitchfork was doing its duty. Momma?  The sound was familiar. Again the sound pushed forward to the edges of his hearing, “Momma!” The screams sent shocking waves of fire through his veins, forcing adrenaline-laced blood to his legs. His sprint slowed to a jog as blood in the dooryard caught his attention, and the screams grew louder, more frantic. His eyes traced the thick sticky trail of blood from the garden to the front door of the colonial-style farmhouse.  

“Jimmy! Get in here and fetch me some linens! Then go run to the Doc! Hurry!” His father yelled.  

The twelve-year-old boy bolted through the half-open door, sidestepping the pools of blood that were large enough to catch full reflections of his father. He raced to the linen closet; his throat nearly closed as the painful screams echoed through the hall. He grabbed a stack of linens with shaky hands and brought them to his father.   

His father took the linens with confused and frustrated movements. Worry lines etched his pale, nearly white face as the man struggled with his inability to provide the smallest amount of relief for his wife’s agonizing labor. His voice cracked and broken, barked a frantic reminder,  
“Run, boy! Go!”  
  Jimmy sprinted headlong into the cornfield. Flowing tears carved muddy lines across his dusty cheeks. His feet kept the hurried pace long after he was out of earshot of his mother’s screams, those awful heartrending screams.  
  

A shiny new Plymouth coupe barreled up the long drive with Dr. Hathaway at the wheel, Mrs. Ingram, the town’s midwife, next to him and Jimmy in the dickie seat.  Jimmy did not wait for the car to come to a complete stop and jumped out of the dickie. Dr. Hathaway and Mrs. Ingram soon followed him into the house.   

The midwife cleared away the blood-drenched linens while Doc assessed Jimmy’s mother. Dr. Hathaway looked at Jimmy’s father, his face wrinkled with tension and sorrow. “I’m sorry, George, she’s not doing so well. Her breathing is very shallow, and the baby is in distress.”  
 ”Oh, Momma!” Jimmy sobbed.  
 Doc opened his medical bag and began pulling out his tools. He probed the woman’s chest with the stethoscope, then his face went sullen, “You should take Jimmy out. This… this is going to be….” He took a deep breath. “Um, he shouldn’t see this.”   

Dr. Hathaway’s grim face told George the rest of the story. George took Jimmy by the arm and gently led him to the porch. The boy sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve, smearing snot across his face.  
 ”Poppa? Momma’s gonna be okay, ain’t she?” Then another sniffle and wipe before slumping down against the side of the house. He was losing his battle with his own emotions; George’s voice croaked, “I don’t know, son, I just don’t know.” He sat down next to Jimmy, put his arm around him, and they both cried quietly for some time.   

Through the solid door to the farmhouse, they heard Dr. Hathaway urge Mrs. Ingram to help. ”Come here! Give me a hand. I can’t do this alone.” Both of his arms were elbow deep into the cesarean slit that opened a hole in the womb. He gently pulled out most of a tiny little body, but it looked as it was snagged, and he could not finish the extraction. “Reach in, quickly! Get the other one.” He whispered a gruff order of urgency.   

The midwife reached to the gaping split, looking away from the visceral and writhing form. She felt the familiar shape of arms, legs, and a torso, then drew out the other infant. She gasped as they awkwardly dealt with the twins. “Oh my God,” she blurted and then tried to retract her astonishment by turning her head away.  
 Alarmed by the sudden whispering and gasping, George and Jimmy jumped to their feet. George put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder to hold him back. “No! You stay here. I’ll check and see what’s goin’ on!”  
 ”But Poppa!”  
 ”No boy, ain’t no place fer ya. I’ll come and git ya when it’s time. Just sit here fer now.”  
 George took a few steps avoiding the dried brown stains on the porch, and opened the door. Doc and Mrs. Ingram looked surprised when he walked in. They looked guilty as if they were the ones responsible for the state of the twins. His jaw dropped, and he moved a few cautious steps forward. Horrified, he looked at the infants. Confusion chiseled into his features as he shook his head, defiant that this was really happening.  
 The twins writhed and gurgled as they were cleaned. Individually they were normal, though one twin was larger than the other, and both were fine. Fingers and toes in the right places. Arms and legs are suitable sizes. All was correct, except for their heads. Their faces were normal, or at least not deformed. They were attached just above the ears; the skulls collided together in a mishap of nature that marked them permanently as freaks. The shape was all wrong, too, as if their heads were welded together then pulled slightly apart like taffy, each face looking forward.  

  
 They were wrapped now, looking like a mummified wishbone, cooing as infants do, natural, soothing. George now understood the reaction of the midwife. He felt it too but choked down his aversion to not alarm his son standing behind him, despite his father’s stern words. Satisfied with the swaddling, the midwife looked to the father with misty eyes, full of shame and sorrow for the man.  
 ”Do you have names for these the boys?” she asked while adjusting the awkward bundle. George’s eyes widened as if he was reacting to a cruel joke. “No. No names.” He turned to look at his son. Jimmy, so strong and handsome, reliable… normal. His son… His only son. His face hardened as he clenched his fists.  

“Take them. Adoption, whatever.” He glanced at his wife’s lifeless body, covered in a shroud of bloodstained linens. “Take them! Those things, take them away from me!” He turned his back, not wanting to look at the abominations any longer. Jimmy looked on and then took his father’s hand in agreement.  
 ”But George, there is nowhere to take them. They’re alone and helpless. They need you.” Mrs. Ingram pleaded with him.   

“No. They need a mother, who they killed. They need someone that will be able to deal with them.”  
   

In the months following their birth, Mrs. Ingram did what she could for them. Did what she had to do. Kept them alive. She tried to care and feel the maternal impulse that she would have felt for any other child and had felt for others. All she could feel was shameful revulsion. She knew what she should feel; she knew that it was not their fault. That was the root of her shame, and that also brought on its own indignant self-loathing.  
 She noticed the handbills during her daily trip to the market. At first, one or two, here and there, and the closer she got to town, they seemed to be everywhere. Bright red and yellow bill posters of “The Great Cirque De Lune Rouge” plastered on makeshift billboards, announcing its arrival in two weeks. It didn’t take a thought. Her decision was made at the first glimpse of the advertisement. Only two weeks, and she would be rid of them.  

Continue to part 2

Author · Horror · writing

Itch part two.

Joe Hallett3 Comments

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

Joe Hallett1 Comment

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.