In this post I’ll be dropping in a few starts to a few books I’m thinking of writing. I’m having a hard time deciding which to continue with, so I’d like it if you would share with me which book you think you’d like to see written. Warning the Grammar may be horrible, as I don’t correct my self as I write until after I have finished.
Story 1: The Darkness Became Me
It was an old tradition. A family member dies, you light a small flame, and you send a lantern flying into the sky. Your loved one’s soul then escapes the bonds of earth and fly into a place of rest and peace. Over the centuries other flying objects have been, unknown to us, taking souls to their resting places, and so our story begins…
A theme park, a small boy and your typical desire for a shiny floating balloon. His parents rush the money out of their pockets to get him the balloon he wants so badly.
NO! Not that one Mommy, the blue one…. NO! NO! NO! I want the Blue one with the ears. Please… I want the one with the ears!
The vendor produces the one the small child wants with a smile.
Greedily the child takes the Balloon in his hands and watches it bob up and down. Its shiny exterior glistens in the sun. He twirls around with it once, twice…
Gunshots fire and a man slumps down next to the child, he screams and releases the balloon, frozen in the moment; a moment that will forever embed its self into his mind until his dying days.
A man turns around quickly and fires two shots in retaliation. The balloon starts its journey towards the heavens… until its interrupted by a stray bullet, and it falls to the ground. Its loose rubber slaps upon the pavement, like a lump of flesh hitting the floor.
People scream, running in all directions as the further shots are fired, blood pours over the broken balloon, the firing stops, the cops arrive, lines are drawn, tape is unfolded, people are interviewed, two wounded men are arrested, and the scene is soon left to the night.
There is no clean-up for this section of a crime scene wrought in a place where happiness used to ensue.
Our balloon misshapen, lay flattened against the ground, dried blood and footprints impressed upon its malleable rubber. Just a thing discarded and ignored, because we have no understanding of what its true purpose could have been, before its flight was interrupted with a bullet as it soared.
A gust of wind manages to lift a small piece of its rubber off the ground for just a moment… or was it the wind?
Story 3: EATER OF THE DAMNED
His breath tasted sour as he woke up from yet another night of unrest. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a sleep that was fulfilling in any way.
Brushing aside the sheets that lay matted at his feet, he got up out of bed. Vision blurred and head pounding Jeremy reached for his Excedrin, only to realize he was out. Throwing the bottle to the floor he moved from the bathroom to the kitchen in quick stride.
“Coffee… I must have Coffee…”, he muttered as he pulled out what he could only deem as dried mud from the cabinet shelf. He heated the water in the microwave and threw in the crystals that would make his morning better, no matter how awfully bitter the flavor, or grimy the bottom remains would be.
His head started to clear and his vision started to swim back into focus. As they did he noticed again that his foot prints had left dirt streaks all over the tiled floor, which trailed all the way back to his bedroom. He looked at his hands, and again they were filthy, with his nails nearly worn down to the nub.
“What have I been doing in my sleep?”, he thought has he made his way back to his bedroom.
His eyes followed the path of dirt from his open balcony door, to his bed. The sheets would have to be changed again.
His doctor said he was sleep walking.
Jeremy was suddenly hit by a fit of coughs. The last cough he nearly choked on, as a ball of long human hair came flying out of his mouth onto the floor. He screamed and then passed out.
It wasn’t the hair alone that made him scream in terror and pass out, it was the small chunk of flesh it was still attached to that had caught his eye in horror. He came to lying next to the ball of hair, he instantly threw up at the sight of it.
Terror seized him. Thoughts and images flicked through his mind faster than he could grasp them. Mostly thoughts of zombies, vampires, werewolves, or whatever unfathomable thing he’d seen in a movie or T.V. at one point in his life or another.
Slowly getting up and walking over to the restroom, he spent an hour looking in the mirror, for clues of what monstrous thing he’d become.
He nearly split his lip trying to part it to see if some form of new canine had grown in his gums, which he found none. He gazed into his eyes, to see if there was something changed about them. His fingers ran over his ears as he looked in the mirror, trying to see if they had been altered. He looked for more hair on his body, thrust his hand in the sunlight and held a cross in it to see if there was a reaction. He ran frantically to the kitchen and took a silver spoon his mom had given him and pressed it into his hand. He ate a clove of garlic… nothing was working, so he went to see if he was a witch and submersed himself in a tub of water, only to realize even a normal person would drown in water after long enough.
Slowly his mind stopped spinning and rational thoughts started coming to him. There was nothing supernatural about him. There had to be a reasonable explanation as to what happened. The only way he saw that could help him figure out what was going on, was to backtrack where he came from last night.
Finishing his bath, he got out slipped and nearly fell, but didn’t. His eyes gazed at the corner of the counter where his head was sure to hit, but he was no longer falling. He was being held by some unknown force, in fact not one part of his body was touching any surface.
It took sheer will to not black out again, as he reached out grabbed the counter and pushed himself to a proper position with feet planted firmly on the ground.
Jeremy was suddenly hungry. He walked back into his bedroom, stooped down and picked up the piece of flesh on the floor, and ate it, hair and all.
“What the hell am I doing?!”
STORY 4: Waking Agony
A sound filled her ears and vibrated throughout her body… or was it her ears that were hearing the sound?
She awoke fully aware of her surroundings in an instant. Her breath was coming in quick gasps. His gaze staring down at her, penetrating her every thought. It wasn’t a sound, it was his thoughts. Willing her to just remain while he did as he pleased. She could not move… She could not…
Allison shot straight up in her bed, it was morning and the terror of her nightmare was gone. This time though, she couldn’t stop the feeling, scratching at the back of her mind, that it wasn’t a nightmare.
The doorbell rang.
“It must be Trisha”, she thought.
Jumping out of bed and putting on her robe, she turned to put her slippers on, then froze. On the pillow were four dark stains, crimson in color. The world shimmered in and out of focus for a moment as her eyes fixated. His face she had seen in her nightmares became suddenly clear. Allison uttered, “It was real”, and passed out on the floor.
Allison get up… Allison heard from a great distance away.
A swift blow to the cheek roused Allison from her sudden black-out. She struck out, in self-defense, with her right hand, which collided with a terrible thud into her best friends’ cheek. Trisha was sent sprawling backward.
Ow! You bitch!
Oh my god Trisha I am so sorry. Are you okay?
“No, I’m not okay”, Trisha said clasping her hand to her cheek. Where did you learn to hit like that?
Allison clambered over to her friend and pulled her hand away from her cheek. She could tell that there was going to be a very big bruise. She stood up, put her hand out, and in her best Terminator voice said, “Come with me if you want to live”.
Trisha laughed, then winced and begrudgingly gave Allison her hand.
In the kitchen Allison packed an ice bag and gave it to Trisha.
Just say you got into a bar fight.
That is not going to go over well at work, not at all.
Then say you were walking past a baseball field and someone hit you with a homerun.
When do you know me to exercise?
Okay, then you tripped over your cat.
That will work.
Cat is the ultimate scape goat.
The girls chuckled and then Allison sat down and started to shake.
Allison, what is going on with you? I heard you fall from outside, and you didn’t come to the door. I thought something terrible had happened, so I raced to your back door and let myself in. You were so pale and just wouldn’t wake up.
I don’t know how to explain. I thought I was having nightmares. Now, I think I’m going crazy.
Allison clasped her hands around her arms and started to clench them, rocking manically back and forth.
Trisha shuddered at the way Allison was looking at her. She looked like she had reverted to a childlike state, as she stared at her with huge inquiring eyes. Then she asked Trisha the question she could tell Allison had been holding back…”There is no such thing as vampires, right?”
Trisha almost chuckled, until she looked back at Allison’s face. She wanted to say, “No vampires do not exist.”, but she knew that the second she said that, her friend’s fine line of sanity might break.
Allison the vampire legends have been around for a very long time, who’s to say they don’t exist. Why don’t you tell me what happened.
With a look so thankful it almost hurt Trisha, Allison started to tell her of all the accounts of the encounters that she thought she’d been having, and how until just that morning she had thought it was all vivid nightmares. To make a point she even took her upstairs to show her the pillow with the bloodstains.
Trisha wanted to believe her, but there weren’t any scratches nor scars on her body, and blood on a pillow could be from anything from a nose bleed, to accidentally scratching your ear in your sleep. She wasn’t going to tell Allison that though. What she thought it was, was post-traumatic stress from the rape she had sustained 5 years ago.
I have an idea.
What’s that Trish?
I have a hypnotherapist friend of mine in downtown LA. I’m going to give you his number, and just say that I told him he owes me one. He’ll give you a session for free, and maybe he’ll be able to help you recall everything that happened.
Oh my god Trish! You are incredible!
Yes, I know.