Say what you mean (or at least what your characters would) and Last Stop Part 10

Before jumping in to the next installment I feel that I should caution you about the use of expletives. You know, dirty words, vulgarity. This part has one, as does the next (which by the way is the conclusion). Stephen King, often imitated, never duplicated, says to keep it real. Write what your characters may say, think and feel in their situation. Don't sugar-coat it. And so I take this advice as golden as many writers in the genre do. Real people say vulgar things, some often, some occasionally, and some only in certain situations, particularly when angry or terrified, as is the case here. So with that warning in mind, I caution you to continue with Last Stop.

Last Stop Part 10



          Upon returning to the kitchen, David had run several scenarios through his head as to what he might do in case he came across William. David was fairly certain he was capable of injuring the man enough to incapacitate him and allow escape. The worse case of course was to kill him, and when it came right down to it, regardless of all that had happened, David was unsure if he could take the life of another human being. Who was he to make that decision, and where would the nerve come from? What part of his psyche would he tap to put human emotion, right or wrong, and everything he had ever been taught about it aside and tap that primal instinct that was required. He was sure that if a confrontation presented itself, and particularly, depending on the state of Carrie’s being, which he didn’t even want to think of, his inner rage and will to live would take over leaving him safely on autopilot.

            As David approached the door at the far end of the kitchen, he noticed that the plot had changed once more. The door stood slightly ajar, unlocked, and uneasily inviting. Did this mean that Carrie was now free and safe? Did it mean she was harmed and either incapacitated or worse, and no longer a threat to run? Did this mean that she was no longer behind the door, and taken elsewhere so this ridiculous and mind numbing game would continue? David prayed the first question was the one that would be answered but knew that, based on the night’s events, it wouldn’t be that easy.

            David slowly eased the door open, the tenderizer still in hand and ready to be used. It seemed to be heavier and it made David aware of how fatigued he was. No doubt, aside from the mental exhaustion, he had put a lot of ground on his still bare feet throughout the night traipsing around the peculiar hell house, up and down stairs and running about. He wanted nothing more than to find Carrie, get them out and just return to their normal life, if that would even be possible, and sleep for three days.

            As David passed through the door, there was no light to allow a visual inspection of the room. The light afforded by the kitchen behind him gave just enough to see a fifteen foot pathway straight into the room, where David spotted a light bulb with a pull chain. Although the room was dark, it seemed rather unstill. David could hear shuffling-like noises and squeaks and scrapes, like metal on concrete, and it made him feel even edgier if it were possible, hearing these things in the dark and being unaware of their origins. His only recourse was to bolt for the light, pull the chain and hope that it worked, and be ready to retaliate against whatever or, more specifically, whoever, came at him. There was no doubt in his mind now that it would be William, and for the first time this evening, David gave thought to the man’s size and build, assessing how substantial he might be with what David could recall of the man, memories that already felt like they were from a year ago. Could he overpower him? William had the home court advantage, not to mention he probably wasn’t going about in his pajamas and barefoot, hoping that a kitchen utensil would suffice as a weapon.

David scoffed at how ludicrous this all seemed, and heard a noise suddenly that sounded remarkably like a person sniffling, then more scuffling and squeaking. Was Carrie hidden in the darkness somewhere in this room, gagged and bound? If he called her name, she might be able to make enough noise for him to locate her, and it occurred to him that he had been standing here for a vulnerable amount of time, silhouetted by the kitchen light, holding what could appear to be small sledgehammer. Perhaps Carrie could see him and, mistaking him for her captor, thinking he was here to finish her off, has remained subdued. David had no choice but to run for the light and hope for the best, but be prepared for the worst.

David bolted suddenly into the room, his bare feet stamping damp footprints onto the cold concrete. He swung the tenderizer around him haphazardly to block and defend against any would be assailant, and as he drew nearer to the light, the weapon clanged against something metal causing whatever it was to shift and scrape against the floor. The light was within reach and David groped at it, tried to grasp the pull-string, hit it and sent it circling. He could hear shuffling and now grunting noises nearly upon him as he grabbed at the string and yanked. The light fluttered on and David swung the tenderizer around in a wide arc around him. It connected with nothing.

The dingy, concrete-walled room seemed to disappear into darkness beyond the light’s illuminating capability, cavernous and stretching further then the house’s foundation. David glanced around and then downward and then sank to his knees, his lip quivering as he was about to shed tears at the sight before him.

Sitting on the cold concrete floor was a semi-circle of six, large, dog cages. Some of them had stains under and around them, dark and unidentifiable. Two in particular were what brought David to his knees and to tears. Two of them were occupied. Dirty and disheveled, but rather quite plump, one boy, and one girl, perhaps around the age of seven, sat locked in cages with thick foam pads under them and blankets to cover with, staring blankly at David. Neither one spoke but just kind of uttered word-like sounds. It seemed they may have been rendered mute by some barbaric, surgical method. Heavy padlocks on the cage doors held the poor children captive. David noted that Carrie was nowhere to be seen and drew his attention back to the kids. He felt utter sorrow and instant rage. What kind of monster would do this? Again, the blame goes to William.

“I’m going to get you out,” David squeaked, his mouth and throat dry. He grabbed at the lock on the girl’s cage, yanked at it knowing it wouldn’t simply open, then reached into his pajama shirt pocket where he had stored the keys he found in Muriel’s room. David felt pity for all the unfortunate souls he had come across this evening, and for the one that mattered most to him that he hadn’t found. Yet, he told himself. His mind began to wonder how he would continue his search for Carrie, be on the watch for William and now tote along the two children to safety and try to protect them from further harm.

He set the tenderizer onto the floor and sorted through the small ring of keys, trying to choose one that looked like it would fit the locks, found one and reached for the padlock on the girl’s cage. The two children watched, then became panicked and grunted protests, their eyes wide and David realized they were both making pointing gestures, not at him, but apparently behind him. Oh shit, David thought as he turned, attempted to grab the tenderizer from the floor, saw a pair of slender, bare legs and feet, and then felt a tremendous force clock the side of his head and upper ear, splitting it open. Darkness swirled around in his vision and as he fell backwards, the light bulb came into view overhead, seemed to steadily grow dim, and then everything went dark.

Last Stop Part 5... and I'm a winner!

I'm a winner. And this isn't some self-affirming, confidence building scheme.(Well, maybe a little). Earlier this week I submitted to a contest on another blog I follow. The gentleman offered a mad libs type competition and so I sent my options. I was notified then, that I won! Granted there were only three submissions, and I honestly didn't expect to win, and I really liked one of the other entries, so imagine my surprise. For my effort he gave my blog special recognition and I truly appreciate it.(He's got a lot of followers!) So let me return the favor to Mr. Vincent Kale, fellow writer of things macabre, sick, and scary. Check out his blog Crawlspace, based upon his novel Crawl(which I have not yet read but is on my to-read list). Thank you Mr. Kale. Now... a little shorter but another installment of Last Stop.

Last Stop Part 5



David bounded up the stairs and was approaching the door to the room that he and Carrie had been assigned when he noticed the door that had been closed and locked was now standing slightly ajar. His heart dropped at the sight and his only thought was that he had to get to his wife. It proved to be a vain thought when he pushed the door open to discover the room vacant. David shot a glance to the bathroom door, praying it was closed and she was merely using the facilities but discovered it standing wide open with the light off.

            “Oh my God,” David said with growing concern taking hold of him. Where did she go?

            Now he began to panic, looking around the room, unsure as to what to do. Perhaps she just left the room, looking for him. The place was certainly a maze and if she had taken a different route than he, they could easily miss one another.

            David went back out of the room and into the hallway. It was quite dark as there were no windows in the corridor and it took his eyes a moment to adjust. She was obviously not further down the hallway, so he turned and headed back down the stairway. He was desperately trying to remain calm although with his wife gone and the thing he was certain was a human tooth he had discovered, it was proving futile to try.

            He hurried down the stairs, no longer concerned about making any noise, and thought that if he were to come across anyone besides Carrie he would bash them in the head with his bare hands. David roamed around the house, not finding Carrie or anyone else for that matter. Where was Muriel? Or William? And what about Mr. Wright? Was he merely fictitious or did he truly exist? David had certainly seen no sign of the man.

            As he turned a corner, David found himself once again in the great room. It continued to be empty and quiet. He glanced over to the cavernous fireplace and he nearly screamed. There were several small hooks lined up along the front edge of the mantle, something one might hang Christmas stockings from, only these hooks were void of any such good tidings. Only one hook was occupied, and from it hung a necklace and pendant David recognized, which he should since he had given it to his wife.

            “Oh my God,” he said again, now completely terrified at what he could only assume was a message claiming that Carrie had possibly fallen victim to the furnace. But that was impossible. He wasn’t gone that long and it seemed to want to make sense to him that no one could have abducted his wife and placed her inside there so quickly. And so quietly. Surely she would have put up a fight or screamed or something he thought. David swallowed hard and refused to believe that Carrie had been incinerated.

            And although he was in the process of convincing himself of this, his knees buckled and wobbled and he found himself wanting to collapse. He steadied himself against the mantle, then snatched the piece of jewelry from the hook. David regained his composure and was about to exit the room to continue his search for Carrie or anyone else that he would certainly beat some answers out of when he heard a noise in the corridor outside of the great room.

            “Carrie?” David questioned, but there was no reply. He entered and discovered the hallway vacant. Somebody was obviously toying with him and David had no doubt it was that creepy William and if he found him he was going to crush his skull.

David was passing the door that he and Carrie had discovered earlier that led downstairs, presumably to the kitchen when he breathed in a familiar scent. Carrie’s perfume that, like the necklace, he had given to her. It was her favorite and he had ensured he knew what it was. The odor was unmistakable, but, had she gone down to the kitchen? For a bite to eat perhaps now that they knew where the room was located?

David opened the door and stared down the stairs. The same cold light that they had witnessed earlier was still shining. He bent down trying to see more of the room at the bottom of the stairs and could see the lower half of a stainless steel cabinet on wheels. Slowly, he forced himself to descend the stairs praying to God that he would find Carrie there snacking and they could laugh about the whole situation and then get the hell out of the Last Stop.

Last Stop, Part One

Welcome back. Had a great day. Horseback riding and Guitar Hero with my son. Life just doesn't get any better. So let's get on with it then shall we. I give you the first part of a long, short story( a problem I seem to have) titled Last Stop. Total word count is 12,185. Here it is broken into page breaks. Yes, it's a horror story. Enjoy.

LAST STOP



“Oh gross. This is the place? Are you kidding me?”

            David looked to Carrie with exasperation. “Well, the GPS says so.”

            The pair sat in their car and examined the facade of the Last Stop Bed & Breakfast. Instead of the charming two-story building displayed on the B&B’s website, the structure was worn, the paint faded and peeling. The photograph on the internet had obviously been taken some time ago, perhaps as many as twenty years, David supposed. The building was the same, but existed desolate and solitary with nary another establishment in sight. David hadn’t expected the Last Stop to be so remote, and now the name of the place made perfect sense.

            The ‘gross’ that Carrie expressed no doubt had referred to the unusual bundles of barbequed meat, strung together with butchers string and hanging from the expansive overhang of the front porch. The odor that would occasionally waft over in their direction was so heavenly; it forgave the eerie sight of it. The front door began to open as David heard his wife’s voice.

            “I don’t want to stay here,” Carrie said as a woman emerged from the doorway that uncannily resembled Irene Ryan, the Granny character from the “Beverly Hillbillies”. David felt his wife of three months’ hand upon his.

            “David.”

The woman waved to the pair sitting in the Toyota Camry.

            “Hello!” granny called from the porch smiling. David glanced to Carrie.

            “C’mon. Let’s say hi at least. We don’t want to appear rude.” David looked to the woman and waved, then glanced back to Carrie who was fumbling with her cell phone.

            “What are you doing?” he asked.

            “Texting my brother saying goodbye since he’ll never hear from us again.” she replied. The brother that David had yet to meet.

            “Oh stop it. She seems friendly.”

            “Yeah, they always do.” Carrie said. The woman had walked down the steps from the porch and stood waiting and smiling.

            “Come on dear,” David said. The two exited the car and walked up towards the woman.

            “Hello,” David said as he extended his hand. The woman by-passed his outstretched limb and wrapped her arms around him. David was startled by the gesture and looked nervously to Carrie who only smiled. She turned and looked to the building. Granny noticed.

            “I know. I ‘pologize for the way the place looks all run down. I been meanin’ to fix ‘er up, but money’s tight and it ain’t easy tryin’ to find someone to come out this far to do the work.”

            “Sorry,” Carrie said, “I understand.”

            “S’alright dear. I’m Muriel. Why don’t you c’mon inside. I reckon you’ll find the inside more inviting.” Muriel said.

            The woman turned and started up the stairs. David and Carrie followed. As he was about to be engulfed by the bed and breakfast, David glanced over to a rather new looking, metal sided barn about thirty yards away and witnessed a large, scruffy man exiting the building carrying a stuffed panda bear.

            Strange, he thought, and decided to not tell Carrie what he saw so as not to increase her anxiety and concern. The trio walked into a foyer with a staircase leading to the second floor. David looked around, taking it in. The interior was the complete opposite to the outside, decorated in a rich, Victorian style. Red, floral print wallpaper covered the foyer and down a hallway leading towards the back of the house. Tchotchke’s sat upon remarkably clean shelves built into the wall. A grand chandelier hung heavily from the second story ceiling.

            “It’s beautiful,” Carrie said, looking around, seemingly impressed.

            “Thank you,” Muriel responded, “Like I said, the inside’s in better shape.” She turned to David, “don’t s’pose you know how to paint.”

            David glanced to Carrie who gave him a look that said, “yeah right”.

            “Uh, no, sorry. Me and home improvement don’t exactly get along.” Granny smiled.

            “Didn’t think so but thought I’d ask anyways.” As she finished her sentence, the scruffy man appeared in the doorway at the end of the hall and watched the trio uneasily. The bear was gone. David saw Carrie notice him, her face changing from smiling to, well, not. Muriel looked to the man and put out her hand, beckoning. He started slowly down the hall towards them.

            “This is William, my son. He can seem scary, but he’s ‘armless,” Muriel said, smiling to the man who hung his head, examining the toes of his boots, “He helps me keep this old place running. ‘Fraid of heights though, so he can’t fix up the outside of the place. Say hello to our guests dear.”

            William hesitantly looked up, trying not to seem rude, but also attempting to avoid eye contact. “Hello,” he managed quietly and left it at that.

            “Hi,” David said, putting out his hand. William looked at it dumbly, then looked to his mother who motioned for him to shake David’s hand. William put his hand out and David took it. It was frigid, making David feel quite uneasy, but it was too late to pull back. He quickly pumped the man’s hand a couple times, then let go and rubbed his own hands together.

            “Well, may I show you to your room, it’s upstairs. I’m afraid we only have one other guest right now ‘sides you. Mr. Wright, he’s a writer. A connection was made upon Muriel’s face and she giggled. “Ooo, that’s funny,” she said, “you have any baggage?”

            David, who realized he had been staring rudely at William, shook out of it.

            “Oh, yeah, a couple bags in the trunk.” He took out his keys and pushed the trunk button on the fob.

            “William, will you please retrieve their bags?” Muriel asked her unsettled boy, although he was no boy, he appeared to be at least fifty. William skirted past the trio and disappeared through the front door.

            Muriel led David and Carrie up the stairs and to a room midway down the hall. David counted five doors, all of them closed. He thought of Mr. Wright and wondered which one the solitary writer could be behind, tapping away on a typewriter, then thought, how silly, it’s most likely a laptop.

            The old woman opened the door and the trio entered into a beautifully decorated room, although the paisley wall covering was a bit busy and difficult to look at. Carrie glanced around and appeared to be pleased, almost admiring the surprising elegance of the room. A large, four post bed was the centerpiece, thick with mattress, linens, and a mountain of pillows. One window allowed natural light in and dust spun around in the rays coming through. Dual nightstands stood on either side of the bed with matching tiffany lamps. A door led to what David supposed was a private bathroom. A monstrous armoire sat against the wall opposite the foot of the bed.

            Carrie walked in, sat on the bed and had to rise up on her toes to do so.

            “Very comfortable,” she said. Muriel nodded in agreement. David glanced around the room, walked to the armoire and opened it to find it empty.

            “No TV?” he asked, somewhat perplexed.

            “For what?” Muriel said and smiled. David then walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside and peered out at the backyard, what little there was, and the expansive empty acreage beyond. He had a momentary sense of panic at the vastness of it all. He looked again to the yard. No pool either. He turned to Muriel.

            “What do you have for entertainment or activities?”

            Muriel looked up for a moment, as though an answer hung in the air, then back to David.

            “There’s a small library of books down in the sittin’ room,” she said, pleased with herself, “even a couple by Mr. Wright.”

            “Hhmm,” David replied and looked to his wife who only shrugged her shoulders yet gave him a “I told you so” reply upon her face.

            “Hope you enjoy your stay. Dinner’s at six in the dinin’ room. Feel free to wander, I’m sure you’ll come ‘cross it.” Muriel said.

            “Thank you,” Carrie told the woman who hung at the door a few moments, then pulled the door shut leaving the newlyweds alone. Carrie looked to David, gearing up to say something.

            “Don’t. I know. We’ll cut our stay short, make an excuse like business or something, but let’s at least hang around until tomorrow. Get a good meal and a good night’s rest.” He walked over to Carrie and kissed her on the forehead. “Next time you pick.”

            She smiled. “Next time.”

            There was a rustling and a thump outside the door, but no knock. The pair looked at each other, then to the door. David walked over, opened it, and discovered their luggage in a heap on the floor. He glanced to the end of the hall, then to the stairway. William was peering through the balusters, halfway down the steps. The two locked eyes, then William scurried down the stairs, out of sight. David turned back to Carrie who had stood up from the bed.

            “Bags are here.