Devil's Elbow: Part One by Tom Highway (Jason Lorah)

Introduction

Today was one of those days, one of those days where you wake up and you just know you’re fucked. My alarm went off and I didn’t hear it, I woke up on my own about twenty minutes later to find out that I was fucking late for work. I am a security guard at the local Midwestern Bank in a small town called Devil’s Elbow. I quickly scrambled around to grab my uniform and get it on, of course not pressed and wrinkled to hell but hey, I had to get to work. I opened my door to a sight that I could not explain. Everyone was gone…

Part 1

My name is Marcus Tucker, I am thirty three years old and I am recently divorced. My wife and child live about four hundred miles away and I rarely see them. I work long hours and on most days when I am not working I am pretty fucked up. I drink a lot okay? Anyway, I’m getting off the subject here, nobody was outside and I didn’t see one car go by on a normally busy street. The Rogers live next door and about this time of day Jennifer Rogers hangs out her laundry to dry, I mean this is every damn day but today she is not outside. There weren’t any kids at the bus stop but of course I was running twenty minutes behind schedule. I get into my car and back out of my driveway. As I’m heading down the street I still haven’t seen anyone driving or walking on the sidewalk.

Twenty minutes pass and I am pulling into the bank parking lot, no cars in the parking lot and it appears as if the bank is still closed. I get out of my car and walk up to the door but I see nobody, at this point I am getting fucking scared and my ass don’t get scared that easily. I’ve seen some pretty bad shit in my life and sleep like a baby. I’ve seen movies like this, people vanishing into thin air without any real explanation. This isn’t the movies, this is real shit and I am apparently the only survivor around within miles. I wasn’t good enough to have a companion to go through this shit with? A million thoughts rush through my head as I walk back to my car, is there some monster killing everyone? No, there is not one drop of blood on the ground, is there some virus killing everyone and turning them into zombies? No, not one dead body lying around and there would be some sort of clue. I mean hell the movies show wrecked cars and burning buildings and shit when a zombie apocalypse happens.

I find myself driving down every street seeking signs of life; luckily I spot something that appears like a person. I pull up beside a small woman about mid-twenties, she looks at me frightened but relieved at the same time. I roll down my window and shout “Hey! I thought I was the only one left! Do you need a ride?” The girl hesitates before responding “I am not sure whether I should get in the car with you, hell I don’t know what did this..” Before she could say another word I hear a huge noise coming from down the road ahead of us. A noise that sounded like a howling “Get in the car!” The girl looks at me a little scared.. She then decides it’s the wiser choice so she gets in the car. I slammed the gas down and did a 180 in the middle of the road heading back the direction I came from.

“What was that?” she screamed.

“I don’t have a fucking clue!” I said with a shaky voice.

The sound chilled me to the bone, I still couldn’t understand how something that sounded like that didn’t leave bodies lying around, and hell better yet where was the blood? I remembered a friend of mine lived in what they call an earth home, a home that is built mostly underground. I figured this was the best place to take shelter and get a defense against whatever that thing was that made that noise.

“We need weapons..” I informed the girl.

“Fuck yeah we do!” she said scared out of her mind.

I turned down Fourth Street and stopped at Pawn City; we got out of the car and hurried over to the door. Then I thought about the tire iron in my trunk so I rushed over to the car and opened the trunk and grabbed it. The girl waited patiently by the door as I came up beside her and evaluated the best approach of entry. Fuck it! I started bashing the window to the left of the door causing the alarm to sound. I helped the girl into the window and she unlocked the door from the inside. When I entered the pawn shop I ran as fast I could over to the guns, grabbing everything I could find and telling the girl to find the ammunition. The girl was searching every cabinet that she could find before heading into the stock room.

“Bingo!” she yelled.

I ran back there and grabbed a box that was lying on the floor; we filled up the box then headed back to the car. We heard the howl again, so we loaded the car and got the hell out of there. About fifteen minutes later we pulled up to my friend’s house, the girl looked at me as if she was not sure about going in. I shrugged my shoulders..

“This is our best shot for the night unless you have a better idea.” I said..

“No this is fine.” She said as she chewed on her fingernails.

We got out of the car and headed to the front door, I found the key under the flower pot that my friend left and I unlocked the door. As soon as we were inside and with the door locked I found the radio and turned it on.

“If you are listening to this, I am letting you know that I have seen some fucked up shit.” A voice said on the radio.

“Find a place to hide because these things are everywhere, I am locked tight in the station but I am not sure how long it will take for these things to find me.” The man said with a slight nervousness.

“My friend’s thought shooting them in the head would stop them but it only pisses them off. We did manage to stop a few by running it over; I would imagine we broke its legs or something. I am not sure when they arrived or what other weaknesses there are so be careful my friends. I am in Salem if you guys can get to me, 402 North Elm Street!” The man said before the transmission cut off abruptly.

I sat there with questions left unanswered.. What are these things? Not a description at all, I would like to know what I’m up against. For now I guess we’ll sit here and board up the windows until I can find out..

END OF PART ONE

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A Monster Born of Madness by Andrew Boydstun

Overview

Talia is an assassin—and a monster; cruel beyond measure or compare, and she hates herself for it. Yet a lifetime of cruelty and torture is not somewhat that is easily overcome, however; she intends to do just that.

A ghost from a past she thought long dead and buried re-emerges in her life, and this man she thought she’d never see again promises her hope and love and most of all a chance to redeem herself.

The two find themselves both ensnared in a complicated web of politics and intrigue, and Talia realizes all too late that her own hands helped to weave it. Pitted against the very woman who trained her in the arts of murder the pair struggle to understand and to stop a plot to usurp the crown and the murders of the entire royal family.

Desperate to find allies and beset at every turn by traitors, Talia and her lover are pursued by a life she wants to leave behind and the echoes of her past which are all too quickly catching up to her.


Find it here: A Monster Born of Madness at Barnes & Noble

A Monster Born of Madness--Excerpt 1

by Andrew Boydstun on Friday, July 1, 2011 at 7:44am

     My sleep that night was strangely peaceful, mayhap it was having a full belly which helped me sleep, or perhaps it was that I had become so exhausted from my recent ordeal and lack of restful sleep aboard the ship that I was able to curl up in a pile of straw and find sleep so easily. At any rate the reason why I slept so soundly is largely irrelevant and it wasn’t long lived. Despite how well I slept I was awoken in a rather rough manner.

     I woke to the sound of a great commotion. I sat up from where I slept, my sleep numbed mind trying desperately to make some sense of what I was seeing. An olive skinned man stood just within the threshold of the building we were housed in, the early morning light pouring in behind him. The man beat on a pot with a large spoon and shouted at us in his native tongue.

     I rose from where I had been lying and watched the man through sleep clouded eyes, my mind still reeling, trying to grasp what was happening. A handful of men made their way into the building and began to gather us together. One of the men spoke to us in Ibliese, his accent was thick and it was difficult to determine what he was saying. “I am called Bagkeer. I am slave, same as you. The master of this house has sent me to feed you and make you ready for trip.”

     He motioned for us to follow him outside. I was fast becoming used to following orders and did as I was instructed without question. I followed him into the daylight and the heat of the day which even at this early hour was quickly becoming oppressive. I had to squint my eyes against the sun’s light to see much of anything. Just without the stable’s doors stood two large wheeled cages. Three other men came and separated the girls from the boys so that we stood in two small clusters. The boys had the chained collars fitted around their necks and they were led off, and from here they disappear from my tale. I never saw them again, nor do I have any inclination as to what their fates were.

     The man called Bagkeer helped us into the cages. We broke our fast on sweet yellow and white melons and soft purple grapes. Also they gave us two sausage links apiece and more of that grainy bread we had been served upon our arrival to the stable. And there was water. All the water anyone would ever want. I tried to ask Bagkeer what the strange humped animals were, but he just ignored me as though I hadn’t even spoken to him. The stable’s courtyard was a flurry of activity as the previously mentioned animals were hitched to the cage wagons and others were saddled and watered.

     As we sat within the cages eating our morning meal, one of the women that was busying herself in courtyard tethering the odd looking animals walked past the cage I was in. When she passed us by she stopped what she was doing and began to make odd looking symbols with her hands at us then she began a slow chant in her native language that sounded almost like a song. It was strangely beautiful even though I had no idea what she was saying. I could see tears forming in her eyes, she gave Bagkeer a quick hug and then she went about her way.

     My face must have been quizzical enough that it was difficult to ignore, for Bagkeer flashed us a quick toothy smile where prior to now he had been ignoring any questions we asked of him. “She prays for your deaths,” he said simply. Like that would explain everything. I was so taken aback by this that I recoiled like I had been slapped. “Better you die on your trip than you reach your destination. I pray for your deaths too. May the gods take you quickly.”

Read more at: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/a-monster-born-of-madness

Christmas Horror Story Competition Winner! George Turner

George Turner became interested in writing short stories, essays and articles since he attended a very colorful and enthusiastic college professor’s English class. Since then George has had enumerable articles and essays published in two print publications and published one book entitled Of Sovereignty. George has also, briefly, owned his own bi-weekly print publication and severed as its editor. George’s current literary projects include working on a compilation of short horror stories to be published in his second book. George is also toying with the idea of starting a print magazine for horror enthusiasts. George has been described as a horror aficionado by his close friends. You can visit George’s book review website at:


https://sites.google.com/site/bookreviewsbycolonelgaturner/ or email George at gaturner.mail@gmail.com . Follow George on twitter, @GeorgeTurner15.


Here is another story by George Turner!

Work

By George Turner

            Work may not be a place where you think of haunted places. For some it is the first thing that pops into their minds. This is a story of one such haunted workplace.

The patients were all in bed. The lights were all off with the exception of the ones necessary to see while walking the halls and making log entries. The thermostat was set at a cool seventy two degrees.

The night sky would light up with flashes of lightning. Claps of thunder seemed to shake the building. The wind and rain seemed as though it was trying to punish anyone who was out in it.

The weather alarm radio would sound every ten minutes. The alarm annoyed Margaret who asked Jason to unplug it and put it in the desk drawer after returning from making a security check. Cathy just laughed at her coworker and continued to surf the internet. “Sure is a bad storm isn’t it girls?” asked Jason.

 His two coworkers simultaneously replied, “Hell yes!”  Suddenly the trio heard something coming from the stairs which was only twelve feet from their office door. “Oh crap, Fred is at it again.” said Margaret. “Who is Fred?” inquired Jason. “Fred is our resident ghost; everything strange that happens here is pinned on Fred.” said Cathy.

Jason had not been with the company very long and this was his first night shift. Jason had heard the other staff tell stories of the unexplainable things that happen in the building at night. They told him about hearing the sound of marbles rolling down the stairs at night and the sound of scratching on the floor above them.  The stories didn’t scare Jason though. Jason was a self-proclaimed skeptic. He laughed at the stories the other workers would tell him. He even laughed when they warned him to not disturb Fred when he was making his noises.

“Do we have any patients up stairs tonight?” asked Jason. “No.” said Cathy. “So what was that noise then?” inquired Jason. With no warning, the loudest thunder they had ever heard rolled just above the building. Then the power went out and instantly the scarcely located emergency lights came on.  Thump, thump, thump rang out from upstairs. A faint whisper could be heard from the stairwell but, none of the three could make out what the words were. Jason, Cathy and Margaret all three moved franticly back into their office.

“Where are the flash lights?” asked Jason as he was rummaging through some desk drawers. “Why?” asked Cathy. “You aren’t going up there are you?” asked Margaret. “There is no need in going up there, we have no clients up there and besides, Fred is on the prowl.” She continued.

Determined to go and investigate, Jason grabbed a flashlight and the master set of keys. Gently he made his way up the stairs. Back downstairs, the two workers who stayed behind could hear scratching on the floor right above their office. The scratching kept getting worse. It was like something was trying to come through the ceiling.

Thirty minutes had gone by since Jason went upstairs. The two women were becoming extremely concerned for him. They were considering going to look for him when he appeared. Jason had found an object that looked like a homemade spirit board. Jason said, “I found this in an empty client room; it was in the middle of the floor. I have seen these in scary movies and stuff.” “What room number was it?” asked Cathy. “Room number 26.” replied Jason.

The three hastily went to the archive room and looked through the dead files in an attempt to see who was in room 26 last. After a few minutes of digging they found out that Walter Fuld was the last occupant of 26. His chart had references from the psychiatrist that Mr. Fuld was paranoid and obsessed with the occult. At one time Mr. Fuld was a professor at the local college. Then one day he just lost it. His family has kept him locked up in institutions ever since.

After returning to their first floor office the three friends sat down and were discussing the creepy history of the building and pondering on Mr. Fuld’s file notes. Without provocation Jason stood up from his seat and asked, “Do you two hear that? Someone is saying my name!” The two women assured Jason that no one was saying his name and he needed to calm down.  

Jason ran back upstairs with his flashlight in hand yelling, “what do you want?!” A loud blood curling scream erupted from the stairwell. The sound of marbles rolling down the stairs soon followed the silence after the scream. Jason’s flashlight could be seen flickering off and on. Cathy ran to the phone and called 911.

When the police and EMTs arrived they found Jason laying in the fetal position on the 3^rd floor landing. His face was deathly white. His eyes were wide open. When asked what happened he said he saw what he was never supposed to see. Those were his last words, ever.

Jason’s Family had him committed to a long term psychiatric facility and his former employer soon went out of business due to the news reports and rumors of what happened at one of their facilities. Jason and his employer never recovered from that night. I suppose those marbles they heard rolling down the stairs was Jason’s.