WEP-October Horor Fest-What Scares You?

 

Hello again everyone! Long time no see! Yeah, I had good intentions to post more often this year, which I clearly have not done. What can I say? Life frequently gets in the way. I have not written nearly as much as I intended when I set goals for myself at the beginning of the year. I'm sure I'm not the only one of us in that boat.

I definitely didn't want to miss the Halloween WEP event, though. Halloween is one of my favorite times of the year. However, when I sat down to write for this prompt, the traditional type of Halloween story I expected to emerge did not. The horror for me turned out to be much more existential. What scares me most? A complete lack of control. What may happen to us that is beyond our ability to prevent?

Anyway I hope you enjoy my little contribution.

They Did Not See

On a small blue and green world three quarters of the way down a spiral arm of a generic galaxy, several billion people milled about its surface, each individual preoccupied with their own brief lives and concerns.

               On any given day, millions were suffering from a lack of resources. Not enough money, not enough food, not enough power to advocate for their right to exist with dignity. Others had enough to eat, but they still fearede ending up on the streets, barely able to afford the most basic shelter.

               Millions of those people, on a given day, mourned the loss of someone close to them, via either death or estrangement. The pain gripped them at their core, threatening to consume them.

               And on this tiny world teeming with life, nature was often unrelenting. The ground frequently trembled. Mountaintops erupted with molten rock. Wildfires scorched wide swaths of the earth. Storm clouds swirled and unleashed destruction. Many perished or lost their homes. They lost hope. What was washed away in a single day could take years to rebuild and repair.

               Amidst it all, these mortal beings reached out and supported one another. They uplifted and inspired. They strove to make whole what had been broken. Despite all odds and adversities, they worked together to make life better.

               Yet, what these mortal beings did not and could not know, an event occurred decades before they were born. This event, more than 150 light years away, reached out across the dark chasm of space. Twin high energy beams stretched in opposite directions, one of them aimed straight at the little blue and green world.

               Scientists upon this world would have, had they seen this coming, called this event a gamma ray burst. They also would have said that such an event was highly unlikely to ever impact their planet. Yet science was an ongoing enterprise, and those scientists had not yet formed a complete understanding of the risks they actually faced. And unfortunately for them, they never would.

               It happened so quickly, those who were vaporized from the surface of their small world never even had the chance to wonder at what was killing them. Just a momentary sense of shock before all went dark.

               The planet continued to spin in the eons that followed, but the character of this world was forever altered.

Word Count: 391

FCA

WEP October 2022 Challenge: Thriller

It's time for the October WEP Challenge, and this is always a fun month to write for. This month our prompt comes from the famous Michael Jackson song "Thriller." If you'd like to join in, you can learn more about the challenge here.

I hope you enjoy my take on the prompt.

Only a Prank

The rhythmic thump of music reverberated through the metal walls of the warehouse. It had to be nearly midnight, and the company costume party was still in full swing. It was the week before Halloween, and people wanted the chance to have a good time before dragging their kids around the neighborhood in the chilly fall air.

Martina tried to focus on her rolling cart of parts that needed to be put away. Not everyone could have time off for the festivities, after all. That would be ludicrous.

Besides her, there was a forklift driver and one other person on duty. Three people on duty in such a large warehouse meant that the workers seldom saw each other. It had been more than two hours since Martina had seen any of her coworkers. The lighting in the area where she worked was about half as bright as it would be during a normal shift. Shadows fell across the aisles as she worked, but she still had just enough light to perform her tasks.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t annoyed that she had to work while so many others played nearby, but she reminded herself that if she were at the party, she’d only be lingering awkwardly in a corner anyway. While she’d been at this job for more than a year, she hadn’t truly made any friends amongst her coworkers. Part of her wanted to blame it on them, but she’d always struggled with social situations as a kid. Adulthood hadn’t made things much better.

Martina stopped her cart and started to put away some boxes of O-rings. A hushed shuffling sound brought her activity to a halt.

She looked up from her task, expecting to see a coworker approaching her with a question. Instead, she was greeted by a werewolf. It loomed at the end of the aisle, bathed in a pool of light from one of the illuminated lamps overhead. The werewolf cocked its head to the side as it studied her. Blood graced the tips of its long fangs.

Once the initial shock of the sight wore off, her surprise turned to annoyance. “Shouldn’t you be at the Halloween party? No animals allowed on the work floor. You know the rules.” She smiled a little at her own wit. 

The werewolf didn’t reply. It continued to stare.

“Fine,” she muttered. “Be creepy then.” Martina returned her attention and resumed her progress down the aisle, her back now turned to her werewolf stalker. She emerged at the other side, expecting to carry on to the next section. Instead, she found two other creatures of the night waiting for her. One was a vampire, dressed as Count Dracula. It loomed in the middle of the large walkway she’d just emerged into. The other stood slightly further in the distance, partially covered in shadow. It lumbered forward slowly, and its movements helped Martina realize it was supposed to be a zombie.

The sound of footsteps from behind alerted Martina that the werewolf was on the prowl.

“What is this? Are we about to have a dance number? Are you trying to recreate Thriller?” The irritation in her voice must have been evident to all of her companions, and she was perfectly fine with that. “If that’s what you want to do, feel free to go back to the party. I have work to do.”

She turned to go down the next aisle, hoping that these pests would listen and go back. When the sounds of footsteps continued to stalk her, she felt her face flush as her blood boiled. How dare they? What were they trying to do? Were they just trying to scare her? Or did they plan to do something worse?

A memory of being thirteen and surrounded by classmates who’d decided they had a problem with her resurfaced. Martina would never forget the blinding pain that came from having handfuls of her hair ripped out by the roots and her ribs breaking from repeated kicks to her sides.

She whipped around and snatched a long screwdriver from her cart. “Leave me alone!” she yelled. It briefly occurred to her that she could lose her job over brandishing anything as a weapon, but she also had to defend herself. She was not going to let herself be victimized again.

The vampire, which was nearest to her, jumped back in response. It put its hands up, as if about to surrender.

Then a heavy hand landed on her shoulder from behind, and she screamed as she twirled to see what had grabbed her. What followed next happened so fast that Martina couldn’t make sense of it. She saw the white face and wild red hair of a clown mask. Then she saw something odd sticking out from the clown’s head, and only a moment later recognized her own hand gripping the object.

The screwdriver.

She gasped as the clown fell to the floor. Her hand released its grip, and the screwdriver remained firmly embedded in the clown’s head. Blood immediately began to stain the floor.

“Colin!” The vampire had ripped off its mask to reveal Steffan, one of the warehouse’s forklift operators. He rushed over to kneel at the wounded clown’s side.

Colin. The name sank in. The clown must be Colin Schrieber who worked in the shipping department.

Steffan was staring daggers at her now. “You psycho! What’s wrong with you? It was just a prank!”

Martina couldn’t focus on Steffan and his rage. Her attention was affixed to the blood pooling on the concrete floor. Screams to “call 911” echoed distantly in Martina’s ears, as if she were hearing them from beneath the water. The sound of her thudding heart mingled with the thump of the music still playing nearby. Soon there would also be the wail of ambulance sirens.

It was a prank. That was all. It was only a prank.

Word Count: 988

FCA

Tagline: Pranks can have unforeseen consequences.

WEP October Challenge-Grave Mistake

 

It's time for our October WEP Challenge! The prompt for this month is Grave Mistake!

I didn't get any real inspiration until last minute, so this little story happened all at once. I hope you enjoy it!

Into the Earth

 

Sweat beaded on Hank’s brow as he plunged the shovel into the earth. His muscles strained as he lifted another mound of dirt from the growing hole and lofted it onto the pile alongside him. The sun beat down on him without mercy as he worked. This was the first week of October, when the weather was supposed to be turning crisp and cool.

“Someone must have left the gates of Hell open,” Hank muttered as he watched the moist dirt yield to his shovel once more. Instead of being a crisp, fall day, it felt more like the height of summer with temperatures nearing 90 degrees. Not the kind of weather he wanted to be digging in, but he needed the money.

Taking odd jobs helped to pay the bills. Hank tried not to think about his growing pile of debt. It threatened to bury him alive.

He shook his head, flinging some of the sweat droplets from his forehead. No, he wouldn’t think about his money problems now. One of the main benefits of hard physical labor was to temporarily forget about life and immerse himself in the moment.

And so, he toiled away, flinging more and more dirt out of the way. Mrs. Morris, the lady who hired him to dig this darned hole, wanted to install a little reflecting pond beside her garden. It was the kind of unnecessary luxury he couldn’t envision ever installing for himself, but to each his own.

He was about three feet down when his shovel struck something hard. The reverberation ran up both of his arms, jarring his entire body.

“Stupid rocks,” he muttered.

Using the tip of shovel to push the dirt away, he planned to dig up and cast aside the problematic obstruction. A smooth white surface greeted him. Dropping the shovel, he leaned down to grasp the rock with both hands and give it a good yank.

His lower back flared with pain as the rock refused to budge at first. Hank gritted his teeth and gave it a second, mightier tug. The earth finally released it, and he found himself face to face with something he’d never imagined.

Two empty eye sockets stared blankly back at him. A slack jaw hung for a moment before crashing to the ground by his feet.

A skull. And this was no animal skull. It was human. No doubt in his mind about that.

Stunned beyond belief, he sunk to his knees and set the skull down beside him. His hands frantically began pushing dirt out of the way, searching to see if there were any more bones to be found. He couldn’t begin to articulate why, but some dark curiosity had seized him.

Sure enough, within minutes he’d found a fleshless hand. The bones were no longer connected by living tissue, but the soil held them in place, making it impossible to ignore what they meant.

Who was this person, and why in the world were they buried here?

Hank was so immersed in his own thoughts, he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching from behind. He didn’t notice anything at all until he heard a slight gasp.

He turned to find Mrs. Morris there, her hands clasped over her mouth.

Of course she was horrified. Who wouldn’t be to find such a thing in their own back yard? The older woman’s eyes grew wide as saucers as she peered down into the hole.

“Mrs. Morris, are you okay? Do you want me to call the police for you?” Hank asked. Surely they would need to report this. It was going to be a pain, but he couldn’t do anything about that.

She shook her head. “I thought I buried him over yonder,” she muttered, pointing toward the other side of the garden. “Just goes to show that the memory fades over time. My mistake.”

Hank stared at her for a long moment, the truth dawning on him slowly.

Too slowly, as it turned out.

Mrs. Morris already had the shovel in hand. When had she even picked it up?

He started to back away, but she was already mid-swing. The metal connected hard with the side of his head, and he crumpled where he stood.

The world stopped making any kind of sense for a time. He couldn’t say how long, but once he was able to form a coherent thought, Mrs. Morris stood in the hole beside him.

No. This was no hole. It was a grave, and it was about to be his, too.

Though Hank’s vision was blurred, he could make out the edges woman’s deranged smile. She leaned in closer, and Hank was overwhelmed by her putrid breath. If he wasn’t so grievously injured, he might have wondered what she could have eaten to make such a horrific stink.

Perhaps it was better that he didn’t know.

“I will say this,” she said. “It sure was kind of you to dig your own grave for me. My back has been acting up something terrible lately. These old bones aren’t as tough as they used to be.”

Bones. Hank thought of that pile of bones he’d unearthed. The ones that were currently resting beneath his injured body. He was going to decompose on top of them until his bones comingled with those of this other man he’d never met.

A few moments passed as Hank drifted in and out of consciousness. He was only vaguely aware of the dirt raining down on him. In some distant part of his brain, he realized with horror that she wasn’t even going to finish him off before burying him.

It won’t be my bills that bury me alive after all, he thought bitterly.

More dirt fell on top of him. It would take her a while to cover him completely. Bad back, and all.

This whole thing was a grave mistake. That morbid joke, a last taste of gallows humor, carried him into the black for the final time.

Word Count: 1000

FCA

 

 

Trick-or-Treat Reads

Happy Halloween everyone! This is always such a fun time of year! There are costumes, candy, and ... free books? Yes, that's right. You can get free books for Halloween!

Thanks to Patricia Lynne for starting the Trick-or-Treat Reads tradition!

Here is a list of my free offerings!

Self-Help 101 or: How I Learned to Take Over the World Through Tolerating My Family

Genre: Holiday/Humor/YA
Word Count: 27,000

Book 1 in the Self-Help 101 series.

Dani Finklemeier has decided to write a self-help book about how to take over the world, but she’s not sure where to start. After all, she’s only seventeen and looking for a better way to make money than babysitting. She buys a self-help book that promises to teach her how to write a self-help book in the hope of getting the job done.

Not that it’ll be easy to get any work done this holiday season. Her family is staying at the house for Christmas, and fights break out almost immediately. Dani also has to deal with the fallout from an unexpected kiss with her best friend Seth and the feelings that go along with it. On edge around her family and unsure how to interact with the one person she’s trusted with everything in the past, she can only take what inspiration she can from the crazy circumstances surrounding her and see what happens.

One way or another, it should be an interesting holiday.

Download Links:

Smashwords

Barnes & Noble

Kobo

iBooks

Self-Help 101 or: How to Survive a Bombardment With Minimal Injury

Genre: Holiday/Humor/YA

Word Count: 25,000

Book 2 in the Self-Help 101 series.

Dani Finklemeier has self-published her guide to taking over the world, but she still isn’t rich.  Now she’s eighteen, still babysitting for money, and looking forward to starting college in the fall.

Of course, she has to survive a 4^th of July outing with her family first.  That’s a challenging prospect considering she has to be in close proximity with a group of cousins known as The Fallible Four.  As if that weren’t enough, she also has to deal with the fallout of her parents learning more about her relationship with her boyfriend Seth than she ever wanted them to know.

The good news is that, if she survives this holiday, she’ll have plenty of material for another self-help book.

Available from Smashwords.  You can find it HERE. 

Self-Help 101 or: How to Select a Costume to Help You  Deal With People

Genre: Holiday/Humor/YA

Word Count-29,000

Book 3 in the Self-Help 101 series.

Dani Finklemeier is adjusting to life in college and the realities of living away from home for the first time.  She’s also learning to deal with the criticism that stems from sharing her writing with the world.  Some of the online criticism is even spelled correctly, which somehow makes it worse.

Fortunately, she has a Halloween party, a group of friends, and a supportive boyfriend to distract her from the things that are bothering her.  Of course, a holiday celebration wouldn’t be complete without something going wrong.  Between an unpleasant confrontation with an infuriating classmate, some shocking costume choices, and a bizarre fraternity stunt, the evening will be anything but dull.

Dani’s detractors may not like it, but she’ll definitely have enough material for another book.

Available from Smashwords.  You can find it HERE. 

Adam's Apple and the Infinite Regress

Genre: Sci-Fi/Humor

Word Count: 17,000

Adam Evans has always felt like the universe was mocking him. That only gets worse when he's charged with murder under bizarre circumstances and exiled from existence. Facing a life of utter solitude, he seizes the opportunity to escape with a strange girl. He's determined to put his life back together, but he never could have guessed how crazy things were about to become.

Download Links:

Barnes & Noble

Kobo

Smashwords

iBooks

A Silent Soliloquy

Genre: Sci-Fi/Dystopian

Word Count: 28,000

TIPPIE was created to be a weapon. By all appearances, she's an ordinary girl of 18, and she uses that to her advantage in her work for The Facility. What no one sees is that there's another girl buried deep inside. She can't speak or control the movements of the body she inhabits. As TIPPIE's silent passenger, she can only observe. She uses the details she learns from TIPPIE's work to reconstruct the stories of other people's lives. It helps her feel a little more connected to the world she can only watch.

When TIPPIE's work leads her to David, a young man with a haunted past and information that The Facility wants, TIPPIE uses her skills to earn his trust. The silent girl beneath the surface knows that TIPPIE is only going to hurt him, but she can't help but feel for him. Those feelings only grow, but she knows all too well that TIPPIE's work will soon come to an end.

Available from Smashwords.  You can find it HERE.

Cosmic Seasoning

Genre: Sci-Fi/Short Stories
Word Count: 16,000

This compilation of ten short science fiction stories is sure to add a little flavor to your day. You'll get to see what happens when a universal translator malfunctions during first contact, the repercussions of a maladjusted writer making a holographic duplicate of herself, the reunion of a couple of shapeshifters that have been exiled to Earth, and more.

Some stories are funny, and others are a bit darker, but they're all short enough to read in one sitting.

This book is always free, and you can get it from any of the following places.

Download Links:

Barnes & Noble

Kobo

Smashwords
iBooks

What are you waiting for? You can use the linky below to visit all the other participants and collect your free books!

WEP October Challenge: Horrible Harvest

It's time for another WEP/IWSG Challenge! This is an exciting month as we have some great prizes! If you haven't joined us yet, you should seriously consider it! You have until October 18th to get in on the fun!

And now, here's my entry. The theme for this month is Horrible Harvest.

Life in the Aftermath

The rustle of brown corn leaves filled the air as a light breeze stirred. Reya stared into the distance to the clouds darkening the horizon. The wooden slats of the front porch groaned beneath her feet as she paced its length. An electric tingle permeated the atmosphere, and it sent a chill down her spine.

Harvest season lurked just around the corner, and the weight of it threatened to crush her. So many seasons came and went before this one, and they all went relatively smoothly. Tons of hours spent in the field with Claude, always at the mercy of the weather. The weather both determined the size of the harvest and the speed with which the work was done. Torrential rains created delays at times, and once, a freak early snow storm caused a mountain of stress.

What she wouldn’t give to tackle those issues all over again with Claude by her side.

She wiped her eyes. Weeping wouldn’t help her do what needed to be done.

Reya stepped off the porch, a wicker basket in hand. If this storm was coming, she needed to work quickly. Rounding the house, she approached the large garden that she and her husband first started more than two decades ago. They were young and optimistic then, imagining they would soon fill their home with the laughter of children. That dream wasn’t meant to be, but they still created a lot of great memories here, many of them in this very garden. How many vegetables had grown here over the years? How many had she canned and stored away to get through the winter? If only she had some of them left, but a couple years of drought severely diminished her stash.

She paused to scan the yard before proceeding. Her free hand moved to feel the reassuring shape of the handgun hidden beneath her flowing shirt. Fortunately, she saw nothing to alarm her.

Reya proceeded to the tomato plants first. Her bones ached as she leaned down to examine a tomato. It was small and green, but she plucked it from the vine anyway and stuffed it into her little basket. Claude always liked green tomatoes. They were good for frying.

A painful twinge in her chest stopped her in her tracks. So many things remind her of Claude. She should’ve been accustomed to the empty feeling by now.

Losing Claude would’ve been a big enough shock on its own, but the circumstances of his death were nothing short of Earth-shattering. Coordinated terrorist attacks across the county devastated multiple cities. Poor Claude had long been a country boy, but he chose the wrong day to go into the city. It was meant to be a brief trip to visit a friend. He never returned. Dozens of other people never made it home. The suicide bomber on the subway made certain of that.

Tensions escalated, and the first nuclear bomb was launched. More were to follow, and millions more perished in the immediate aftermath. It all escalated so quickly. Reya never imagined she would have to take a life, and the first time haunted her for days afterwards, but she did what she needed to do to protect herself. What else could she have done? The people who came wanted to take what little she had.

She shook her head, hoping to banish her dark thoughts, and moved on to the next tomato vine. This one had two tomatoes, but neither of them was larger than a golf ball. Within a few minutes, she had the basket filled a quarter of the way with tomatoes. She moved on to the onions, then the potatoes. Pickings were slimmer than she would have liked, but she gladly took everything she could find.

A sudden movement off to her left sent Reya’s heart pounding. The basket hit the ground as her hand flew to the gun. Before she could draw it, however, she caught sight of the culprit. A small ground squirrel. It stood still, its dark eyes fixed on her. She let out her breath in a sigh of relief. “You’d better take cover,” she said aloud. “It might storm soon.” She turned to look at the horizon again. The threatening clouds were indeed closer than before.

When she turned back, the ground squirrel was gone. She’d need to be gone soon, too.

Once she’d thoroughly combed through the garden, she dusted off her knees and carried her bounty back to the house. The scarcity of water meant she couldn’t waste it on cleaning her vegetables, so a scrubbing with her hands would have to suffice.

She settled on a rocking chair on her porch to watch the weather roll in. And roll in it did.

The distinctive pitter-patter of water droplets sounded on the porch roof came first Reya stepped forward and gazed at the withered chrysanthemums that bordered the house. They should have been flowering in brilliant oranges and reds, but a rough season left them brown and nearly dead. The rain hitting them now surely wouldn’t be enough to resurrect them.

A lump caught in her throat when she saw one of the rain drops clinging to a spindly branch. It was black. Tarnished with fallout. There was nothing nourishing about this rain.

She trudged back into the darkened house. She tried not to think about the leaks that would lead to pooling in the attic. She couldn’t fix it. Just like there was no way she could complete the harvest on her own. And even if she could . . .

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Claude was the lucky one. This thought came daily now. Late at night, she found herself wishing she’d traveled with him that day. Then none of this would matter. Not for her.

Early on, she lamented her lack of a radiation meter to keep track of things, but now she was glad of its absence. What good would it do to know the truth?

Word Count: 1000

FCA

WEP: Dark Places

It's time for more fun with Write . . . Edit . . . Publish.  Thank you Yolanda Renee and Denise Covey for making this possible.

It's October, so that means we get to have a spooky time with this month's theme of Dark Places.

Enjoy!

A Dark Man in a Dark Room 

The light bulb burned out days ago, but Ray didn’t bother with it.  A trip to the store would’ve involved interacting with people in the street, and his insides twisted at the thought.  He couldn’t risk temptation so close to home.

You could go out at night.  The convenience store down the road is open 24/7, the little voice in his mind whispered.  You’d be less likely to be caught if you slipped up.

Ray shook his head so violently the muscles in his neck twinged.  He couldn’t obey the impulse.  Going out would only end badly.  He’d already added light bulbs to his online shopping list, and the delivery service would bring them by the following morning.  He could survive another 12 hours or so in the lightless room.

The faint illumination cast by his laptop screen was enough to navigate the tiny studio apartment.  He hopped from website to website, reading articles that barely interested him.  He needed to keep his mind busy.

You know where you want to go, the voice hissed.  There are so many websites that could bring you pleasure.  No one needs to know.  Why restrain yourself?  Looking at images online won’t hurt anyone, will it?

Ray tried to push those inklings deep inside.  Maybe he’d eventually be able to bury them so deep they’d no longer plague him.  It seemed an impossible dream most of the time, but he continued to hope in the face of futility.

A sharp knock on the door made him jump.  He set his laptop on his musty comforter and slid off his bed.  His heart thumped loudly enough in his ears to mask the sounds of his socked feet on the hardwood floor as he crossed the room.

The delivery wasn’t due yet, and family members stopped dropping by for visits two decades ago.  The neighbors tended to give him no more than a hurried glance before sidestepping him in the hallway.  His wild eyes and unkempt hair were more than enough to guarantee such a reaction.

Maybe you should try being more approachable.  Aren’t you lonely?  Don’t you want to get close to someone?

Ray shivered as he reached for the doorknob.  He should have pretended he wasn’t home.  That was the only option that made sense, but the logical part of his brain was drowning.  He’d soon lose touch with it altogether.  Nevertheless, he pulled the door open.

“Hello, sir,” a young girl with blond hair and brown eyes said cheeffully.  She was slender and came up to his shoulder.  She couldn’t be any older than thirteen or fourteen.  A cardboard box rested in the crook of her arm.  “I’m selling candy bars to raise money for new marching band uniforms.  Each candy bar only costs $1, and they’re really delicious.”

This last part of her spiel sounded so enthusiastic that Ray knew she must have sampled one for herself.  He pictured her holding an unwrapped bar in her hands, the chocolate melting over her fingers, gooey and sweet.

He licked his lips, and finding his voice, replied, “I shouldn’t.”

The girl’s smile widened.  “Who says you shouldn’t?  Come on, it won’t hurt you too much to give in this one time, and it’s for such a good cause.”

Yeah, you heard her.  Give into the temptation.  One more time.  Remember how it made you feel before?  Those were the only times you ever felt good.  Let her help you feel good.

Ray felt like he was quaking beneath the surface.  He could shatter at any moment, and he couldn’t imagine how he looked to this girl who had no idea the type of monster she was dealing with.

Invite her in.  See that perfect skin?  You know what you want to do to her.

He did know.  He couldn’t help imagining it.  Running his hands over that creamy flesh.  Replacing his hands with a razor blade.  Dragging that blade along the skin, pressing just hard enough to create a valley in which it could rest.  Then pressing the extra little bit that would breach the skin.  Crimson liquid bubbling forth around the metal before cascading toward the floor.  Watching it pool around his feet before using it to paint a picture on his floorboards.

You could paint flowers.  Or other pretty girls to stare at.  All you have to do is invite her inside.  Say you need to get your money.  She won’t suspect anything.

Except he was at home, and other people may have seen this girl going door to door.  If she disappeared, people would come looking for her.

“All right.  I’ll buy one.”  He bit down on his lower lip as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the dollar.

Her face lit up.  “Thank you, sir.  I appreciate your help.”

When he accepted the candy bar, he purposely brushed his hand against hers.  The contact lasted only a moment, but something deep inside him roared to life.

His toes bumped against the shoebox stashed beneath his bed.  He froze in place, savoring the memories of how each of the photographs contained within came to be.  The torn flesh.  Subdued cries for help that went unheard.

If only he had a light bulb.  He’d have pulled them out and perused them for an hour or two, reliving the moments since he could make no new ones.

Except he could, in a way.  He closed his eyes and envisioned new scenes of gore and torment.  He thought up new ways to make it beautiful.  The room might’ve been dark, but nothing rivaled the dark recesses of his own mind.

Word Count: 938

FCA