Wednesday, August 19, 2026
A Far Future Project (Gothic Romance Experiment)
Friday, July 24, 2026
Dark Dreams and Darker Visions 2nd Edition EBook Released
A serial killer stalks other serial killers. A lonely woodland pond hungers for the unwary. A monstrous pig refuses to die. Ancient white pines whisper forgotten secrets, while haunted carnivals, cursed beauty, and quiet country roads conceal horrors just beyond the edge of the familiar.
In this newly revised second edition of Dark Dreams and Darker Visions, Alan Loewen presents twelve tales of dark fantasy and supernatural suspense—including two stories published here for the very first time. Carefully revised and expanded, these stories favor creeping dread, unforgettable atmosphere, and unsettling ideas over cheap shocks.
Enter if you dare. Just don't expect to sleep well afterward.
Except for the cover art, no AI was used in the authoring of this collection.
You can purchase the eBook here for 99¢ or in your own country's Amazon.
Friday, September 6, 2024
Fogbound
For Inktober, Friday, October 30, 2020. Prompt word: "ominous." Tuckerization: Gregory Salter
A reminder that volunteering for tuckerization only means a character in the story shares the participant's name. Other than that, no similar characteristics are implied.
This story is a continuation of the city stories that began with Sarkomand in Some Would Call it Worthless and continued in The Library.
Fogbound
by Alan Loewen
Gregory Salter continued his trek toward the west, following the road until the city-sized library was merely a speck in the distance. Having escaped the ennui of Sarkomand, he left the Library behind to see what might lay ahead of him.
The plethora of books he read was fascinating, and he was enchanted with the hundreds of lives he had lived, but after a while, he noticed, to his growing horror, that his real life began to disappear in countless incarnations. When Gregory discovered the basement filled with living skeletons, impulsively grabbing and reading one book after another, he filled an improvised backpack with food and water and fled.
With the weather warm and comfortable, Gregory passed the next two nights comfortably on the eastbound road, using only the canopy of trees as his only shelter.
It disturbed him that he had met no other people on the road, and the woods bordering it were eerily silent, devoid of the usual sounds of animals and birds. However, he continued his journey, and on the third day, he found himself walking into a mist that soon turned into a thick fog. Still able to see the road under his feet, he wondered if he should turn back but decided to soldier on. To bolster his courage, he found a thick branch in the woods that doubled as a walking stick and an improvised cudgel.
To his relief, he came to a set of city gates set in a stone wall. The fog was so thick that it was impossible to guess their height. Cautiously, he stepped past the entrance, surprised to see no people on the cobblestone street before him.
It was only until he walked a reasonable distance that he saw people furtively moving through the mist. They occasionally glanced at him but continued on whatever personal missions they had. None of them seemed willing to stop and talk to him, even though he tried to stop a few to ask questions.
He decided to avoid the dark stores with large empty windows, and though he was tempted to knock on the doors of the brownstone houses, he continued his trek through the fog.
A sign above a door gave him hope of finding answers to this weird city that had entered. The Cobblestone Pub beckoned him, and when he walked through the door, the patrons, sitting at the scattered round, wooden tables or leaning against the bar, turned as one to stare at him. Within seconds, they lost interest in him and either returned to their whispered conversations or turned to stare sullenly into their mugs.
Wishing to stay invisible, Gregory made his way to the bar. He beckoned to the barkeep, who came and silently stood before him with raised eyebrows.
“On the house,” the barkeep said. “You’ll have to find a job to pay for your livelihood. There’s a guesthouse just down the street. They’ll take you in until you settle. Just don’t be out in the fog when night truly comes.”
“But,” Gregory stuttered. “I’m just moving on.”
A grim smile came to barkeep’s face. “Bad news, newcomer. Those who enter this city can never leave. Surely, they told you at the Library that no one ever returns from following the eastern road.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” Gregory snarled. “The gate I entered is just down the street from where I entered. I can leave anytime I want.”
The barkeep shook his head slowly. “When you walked through the gate, it changed into a solid, unclimbable wall. It was the same for all of us. There is no escape. Now, drink your beer and get to the guesthouse. We’re an hour away from nightfall. I have no rooms to let, and I don’t want you sleeping on a table.”
The barkeeper turned away to check on other patrons, leaving Gregory staring at his own beer mug. Tentatively, he took a sip, and hunger and thirst made him drain the mug dry.
Uncomfortable with the silence, Gregory shouldered his knapsack and made his way to the guesthouse.
True to the barkeep's word, he was taken in and given a week to find a job and a place to live.
Also, the barkeep spoke truth about the gate. Gregory never found the entrance where he had entered or any way to leave. The stone walls surrounding the city were smooth as glass, and when he tried to talk to people about building a ladder to find the top of the fog-shrouded walls, they stared at him and passed on.
He found work with a mushroom farmer, as the various types of fungus were the only edibles that would grow in a city perpetually covered in fog. A two-room flat became his new home, and he quickly learned to avoid being out at night in the ominous fog. Occasionally, Gregory would be awakened by a distant scream of some victim of the night, and he would tremble in his bed until the morning, unable to return to sleep.
Countless years later, Gregory shuffled his way through the streets like the other citizens of the city. He never learned the name of the fogbound city. It was a mystery, a town without a name.
One evening, Gregory sat at his small dinner table and quietly spooned tasteless soup into his mouth. He blinked his eyes and shook his head. A sudden realization came to him. He hated this city more than anything. He hated his life, day by day, digging mushrooms out of offal and trudging home before the dreaded night claimed him.
He quietly put his spoon down and shuddered. Better an end to this nameless purgatory than another day of soul-crushing ennui.
Gregory got up, tucked his chair into its place by the table, and walked outside into the fog.
As night quickly descended. Gregory swallowed his terror and waited quietly.
He gritted his teeth until he feared they would crack under the pressure of his jaws, but he clenched his fists and refused to move, ignoring the other people fleeing to shelter.
Complete darkness crept upon him, and Gregory felt a cosmic cold envelope his body. He could not help it when a nameless dread made him turn toward his door for shelter, but it was too late.
He felt gravity reverse, and Gregory fell into the sky with a shriek.
He plunged heavenward, tumbling through the fog until he was above the clouds in a maddening fall upwards. He suddenly saw the stars. As he was swallowed up in their glory, Gregory, in his terror, abruptly realized he had discovered a way to leave the city after all.
Friday, April 12, 2019
The House: An Excerpt
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| You have no idea of the hatred I have for basements. |
Friday, March 22, 2019
What Started It All
- La Grande Bretêche, by Honoré de Balzac (trans. of La Grande Bretèche 1832)
- The Black Cat (1843), by Edgar Allan Poe
- The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar (1845), by Edgar Allan Poe
- A Terribly Strange Bed (1852), by Wilkie Collins
- The Boarded Window (1889), by Ambrose Bierce
- The Three Strangers (1883), by Thomas Hardy
- The Interruption (1925), by W. W. Jacobs
- Pollock and the Porroh Man (1895), by H. G. Wells
- The Sea Raiders (1896), by H. G. Wells
- Sredni Vashtar (1910), by Saki
- Moonlight Sonata (1931), by Alexander Woollcott
- Silent Snow, Secret Snow (1932), by Conrad Aiken
- Suspicion (1933), by Dorothy L. Sayers
- The Most Dangerous Game (1924), by Richard Edward Connell [as by Richard Connell]
- Leiningen Versus the Ants (1938), by Carl Stephenson (trans. of Leiningens Kampf mit den Ameisen 1937)
- The Gentleman from America (1924), by Michael Arlen
- A Rose for Emily (1930), by William Faulkner
- The Killers (1927), by Ernest Hemingway
- Back for Christmas (1939), by John Collier
- Taboo (1939), by Geoffrey Household
- The Haunters and the Haunted: or, The House and the Brain (1859), by Edward Bulwer-Lytton
- Rappaccini's Daughter (1844), by Nathaniel Hawthorne
- The Trial for Murder (1865), by Charles Dickens (a variant of To Be Taken with a Grain of Salt)
- Green Tea (1869), by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
- What Was It? (1859), by Fitz-James O'Brien
- Sir Edmund Orme (1891), by Henry James
- The Horla, or Modern Ghosts (1910), by Guy de Maupassant (trans. of Le Horla 1887)
- Was It a Dream? (1903), by Guy de Maupassant (trans. of La Morte 1887)
- The Screaming Skull (1908), by F. Marion Crawford
- The Furnished Room (1904), by O. Henry
- Casting the Runes (1911), by M. R. James
- Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad (1904), by M. R. James
- Afterward (1910), by Edith Wharton
- The Monkey's Paw (1902), by W. W. Jacobs
- The Great God Pan (1894), by Arthur Machen
- How Love Came to Professor Guildea (1897), by Robert Hichens
- The Return of Imray (1891), by Rudyard Kipling (variant of The Recrudescence of Imray)
- "They" (1904), by Rudyard Kipling
- Lukundoo (1907), by Edward Lucas White
- Caterpillars (1912), by E. F. Benson
- Mrs. Amworth (1922), by E. F. Benson
- Ancient Sorceries (1908), by Algernon Blackwood
- Confession (1921), by Algernon Blackwood and Wilfred Wilson
- The Open Window (1911), by Saki
- The Beckoning Fair One (1911), by Oliver Onions
- Out of the Deep (1923), by Walter de la Mare
- Adam and Eve and Pinch Me (1921), by A. E. Coppard
- The Celestial Omnibus (1908), by E. M. Forster
- The Ghost Ship (1912), by Richard Middleton
- The Sailor-Boy's Tale (1942), by Karen Blixen aka Isak Dinesen
- The Rats in the Walls (1924), by H. P. Lovecraft
- The Dunwich Horror (1929), by H. P. Lovecraft
Thursday, December 27, 2018
Doll Wars: The Prologue
The first part, In the Father's Image, first appeared in a special issue of Ethereal Tales magazine in 2014 and appears in my collection, Come Into My Cellar, Darker Tales From A Cerebral Vaunt.
Florence, Italy 1833
Monday, October 23, 2017
Child of My Desire Published In Morpheus Tales #31
I'm delighted to announce that my flash fiction piece, Child of My Desire, has just been released in the magazine, Morpheus Tales #31.
A preview of the magazine is available here and it can be downloaded in various formats here. Also, printed copies are available here and here. Below are the opening paragraphs of the story:
Dr. Abraham Winslow stopped outside the closed door to the hospital conference room and watched the man within through the small window. Joel Dekker sat at the table staring at his hands, not looking much like a best-selling author. His doughy face, heavily lidded eyes, and fat quivering lips spoke more of a man who could barely remember his alphabet. Scarlet scratches, only a few days fresh, marred his face.
Winslow rapped on the door and opened it. Dekker looked up but did not stand.
“Mr. Dekker,” the doctor said, “thank you for meeting with me.”
A flash of pain went across Dekker's face. “My daughter, is she okay?”
“There has been no change in her condition but, Mr. Dekker… a few questions have come up about Deirdre.” The doctor sat down at the table across from Dekker and opened a large file.”When your daughter did not respond to traditional medications, we did a full medical scan on her. The results are… puzzling.”
Thursday, August 31, 2017
The Apple Lady: A Poem
All except the last stanza. At least, that is what I would like you to believe.
The Apple Lady
The night echoed a choir of crickets
Accented by an aroma of earth.
The moon washed the old orchard clean of color.
He ignored my protests against the chill,
The night, this vigil among the trees.
"Do you believe in wonder?" he asked.
My lie came easily.
"I lack imagination."
"In my twelfth year, " he said,
"I saw her among the trees
Clothed in autumn leaves
Hair red as autumn apples;
Her eyes like autumn frost."
I shook with more than cold.
"We should be home
With beer and friends,
Forget childhood dreams
And childhood lovers."
I left him standing
In moonlight and leaves.
With the rising sun
We found him fused
Into the bark of an old apple tree,
Taken in a wooden embrace,
A gentle smile on his lips.
Monday, August 28, 2017
Fifteen Super Short Stories
Many years ago when Livejournal was the Facebook of the day, a meme made the rounds of people asking others to recall when they first met. Well, let's just say I have a wild imagination. Enjoy.
In late October, 1918, shot down just five miles behind the German lines, DeBray and I hid in the burned out remains of an old manor outside the deserted village of Château de Chambord. Our self-imposed imprisonment was relieved by a well-stocked wine cellar and a deck of cards with the 8 of Hearts missing.
For weeks we regaled ourselves with tales over bottles of Bordeaux from such vintages as Lafite Rothschild, La Conseillante and Pichon Longueville Comtesse de Lalande. Playing poker, DeBray ended up owning all of France.
Weeks later, desperate to rejoin our unit, we drank the last, cast fate to the wind, and ran into the night in a mad attempt to breach the lines from behind.
The next morning we found ourselves near frozen in a potato field, our heads pounding.
A farmer told us the war had been over for weeks.
Another wave and gryphons joined the dance.
"I just can’t seem to be able to do that," I complained. I waved my hand and a dyspeptic unicorn smelling of old fish appeared and promptly melted into a greasy puddle. "What am I doing wrong?"
Stoker snapped his fingers and the puddle congealed into a pretty fairy who soared away on streaming wings trailing ginger and violet. "How are you building them?" he asked.
"Just like you. One molecule at a time."
"Ah!" he said with a nod. "There’s your problem. Your building blocks are too large. Start with smaller particles."
"Particles?" I asked. "What particles?"
"Elementary, my dear Loewen. Elementary."
I journeyed to Saint Kitts hoping the Caribbean sun would burn away my ennui. My paints had dried in my mind; my soul remained a blank canvas.
I heard her where she sang to herself in the front door of a little beach shanty. “My name is Tracy.”
She showed me mysteries in the tide pools and the sea caves. We explored the vendor stalls and I bought her a straw hat. We fed the pigeons in front of Saint Martin’s. She taught me how to drink Margaritas and how to laugh once again.
That night on my easel, I painted wild arabesques of color, pirouettes of pastels. Inspired fantasies flowed in watercolor.
The next morning, the beach stood empty, no trace of the shanty or its muse.
My watercolors are now famous, my best capturing her features with brightly-colored pigments mixed with my tears.
He sat in my counseling chair like it was a throne. “Humanity has grown weak,” he said grimly. “We gave them their chance, but they squandered their stewardship for bread and circuses. Now it is time for our return until humanity learns its responsibilities anew.”
I nodded and wrote “Delusional” on my notepad.
He stood and I cried out in surprise and awe as his eyes changed from human to the large orange slitted orbs of a tiger.
The receptionist burst into the room. “Dr. Loewen!” she asked, “What happened?”
I sat staring at an empty chair. “The old gods have awakened,” I whispered.
“My problem,” Razz said, reaching for her sketch pad and pencil, “is that I have too powerful an imagination.”
To demonstrate, she drew a butterfly that suddenly shimmered and flew off the page. I watched it flutter about my counseling office.
Razz shook her head in despair. “My apartment is filled with bats, unicorns, fairies, cartoon characters; all of them about the size of an eight by eleven inch sheet of paper.”
I meditated for a moment and then wrote out my prescription. Razz read it and smiled.
The next day, she returned grinning. “I never thought of drawing Aladdin’s lamp,“ she said. “I used my last two wishes to solve my problem.”
I twitched my nose. “Let me guess. Because you doubted his powers, you wasted your first wish on turning me into a giant green rabbit?”
“Bingo!” she said.
It was tea time in Bejing and we had sat down for a quiet time of refreshment at Madame Chin's when the Tongs attacked.
I never knew you were so adept at self-defense with nothing but a pair of chopsticks.
Five minutes later, you rejoined me at our table, flicked somebody's spleen off the tablecloth and resumed your tea as if nothing had ever happened.
"Where ..." I gasped, "Where did you learn such martial arts?!?!"
You simply smiled at me over your cup of steaming Jasmine tea. "I see you never ate lunch at the Fullerton College cafeteria."
I remember it like it was yesterday.
When the Amazon Women from Mars invaded, Earth was thrown into total turmoil.
Fleeing the rubble of what was left of San Francisco, I found you walking among the wreckage.
"Those alien women are coming!" I cried. "We need to hide!"
You just smiled as you pulled out your ray gun. "Sorry, old chap, but I was one of the advance spies. Mars needs men."
Mars has such a pretty pink sky.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
There she stood on the balcony overlooking the lawn and you pushed me out into the moonlight where she could see me.
"Call her name," you said.
"E-e-e-s-Esmerelda!" I called, my voice shaking.
In the shadows you told me the words of love to woo her and I followed your advice and then and there she pled me her vows of true love.
"I'll be right down!" she cried gaily. I almost wept for joy.
She ran out into the dewy lawn and the moonlight and I reached out to hold her in my arms. Suddenly she saw me and with a cry of despair, she stopped and suddenly began to weep. "I thought you were Alexander!" she wailed.
I was the best man at your wedding.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
"Stay behind me," you yelled as we stormed the beach.
Bullets knit a tattoo of death around us, and though other men's lives were forfeit that bloody day, we made it to the first line of dunes.
"There's a pillbox just over this hill," you said. "Wait here until you hear the grenade go off," You grinned at me like it was a picnic outing.
Far over head, ack ack guns burst in colors of black and gray as Allied bombers flew deeper into enemy territory to deliver the death they carried in their wombs.
You rolled over the dune and I heard an explosion, but little did I know it wasn't the grenade you had yet to throw.
With a war cry, I stood to run over the dune and took a round in the gut.
When I came too, you were standing over me putting away the suture kit back into the med bag. "I had to jury rig you back together, but you'll be okay."
To this day, I still taste steel canteen when I belch, but you saved my life. I don't think I've ever thanked you.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
The undead had holed us up in an old Domino's Pizzeria. I and the three others were a screaming, lunatic mess, but you kept the rest of the survivors calm by finding what was left of the store's supplies and jury rigging some pepperoni pizza for morale as well as strength.
It was that evening when Dave carelessly showed himself in front of the big glass window.
Next thing we know, ravenous zombies had broken through and it was every man for himself. You stood on the counter and dealt final death to the undead with the biggest pizza cutter I had ever seen.
You got away. The rest of us didn't and I hope you still have the pizza cutter 'cause I'm coming for you and I'm getting really tired of eating nothing but brains and watching pieces of me slowly fall off.
You were cool, calm, and collected in your three piece silk suit. I sweated and twitched and looked like I had crawled out of a Salvation Army bin.
You were an old hand at the spy business. This was first outing.
She was slim and blonde and her legs went all the way to the ground and she wore a red dress that fit like it was her skin.
You swept her off her feet. I sweated and twitched and hiccuped.
When she betrayed us later than night, you smooth talked your way into having her release you from your bonds. She cried and kissed you, provided the keys and you swept her away to Istanbul where she now works as your new sidekick.
It seems you forgot your old sidekick. The bomb went off and now half my body is now metal and plastic.
I'm now the new Mr. Big and the world's #1 Bad Guy and when you and your new partner come to take me out, you'll find that all my sidekicks are ugly old men you won't be able to sweep off their feet.
I would write more, but it's 10 o'clock and I have to go oil myself.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
The clues given to us by that dying Mountain Shuar Indian had led us to the greatest treasure trove of all. The hidden gold of the Incan leader, Rhumunauhui.
We stood inside the ancient Incan temple and, because of my ignorance, I needed you to read the ancient pictographs on the wall.
"Yes," you said. "The treasure is behind this door. You open it and I'll nip outside to fetch more flashlight batteries.
The treasure was there just as you read, but you got the gold and I got the curse.
You now live in regal splendor, but I'm just a pile of amorphous slime and if it takes me all night, I'm going to ooze through that front door keyhole.
I'll see you in the morning.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
I had watched you walk past my place of business for weeks and one day I had to test my fortune.
You came strolling up the sidewalk and I knelt in front of you holding out a bouquet of true black roses and a box of bon bons made by Belgium chocolatiers from rich cream from virgin cows as I professed my undying devotion.
You looked at me with a withering glance bordering on pity. "You, sir, are beneath my station."
Today I drown my sorrows in absinthe, but I bear with pride the marks your stiletto heels made when you walked over me
I remember it like it was yesterday.
The Tyson Mansion was the Mount Everest of haunted houses and nobody had ever explored its arcane mysteries without going completely mad or failing to survive the night's adventures.
At two in the morning the apparition appeared, a grisly horror from a madman's worst nightmare.
In my panic, I dumped my attache case and threw everything I had at it: holy water, onions, crucifixes, sacred symbols, wolfsbane ...
Unaffected, it glared at me with malevolent evil.
You casually walked up to the monstrosity, looked it straight in the eye, and said, "I don't believe in you."
It vanished in a puff of skepticism.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
Of all the coffeehouses in all the forgotten corners of the world, you had to walk into mine.
Carlton at the piano played The Lady of Shallott in E minor. You stood elegant in a little off-the-shoulders number wearing a perfume that blended the best of jasmine and cinnamon and cardamon.
I treated you to a Coffee Cream Chantilly, my house specialty and we spent the night sampling arcane coffees from across the world.
In the morning, you excused yourself to powder your nose and when a half hour returned I realized you weren't coming back, especially when I noticed that you had so entranced me you had taken my wallet, my watch, my rings, my Saint Brendan medal, and my truss. You were good!
Keep it all. It's a small price to pay for the pleasure of your company, but please return my heart.
Wednesday, June 28, 2017
I Blame Lewis Carroll
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| Nightmare fuel for young Victorians |
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| This illustration still freaks me out. |
The result to my young mind was to create a world where the laws of logic don't work or else work in a manner of ironic absolutes. Nightmare fuel to say the least, and the poem created in me a fascination for the mystifying and the sheer wonder of what some philosophers call the mysterium tremendum. It is, thanks to Lewis Carroll, that I am best known for the quote, "The world is not safe, nor is it necessarily sane."
Yet even then, like Carroll's intriguing worlds of nonsense and fantasy, I cannot deny that life contains a sense of beauty and the shadow of something greater than our existence. Nonsense it may appear to be, but not nihilistic.
Thursday, January 12, 2017
The Inugami: The Opening Scene
What follows is a very rough draft and may be radically different from the finished story.
Kelly nodded at the real estate agent who held the front door open for her. Carefully removing her shoes as was the Japanese custom, she wrinkled her nose at the the smell of an old house unused. Underneath the aroma of mold, came the smell of something else, like a faulty sewer line.
The Japanese real estate agent was a bubbly personality and immediately launched into her spiel. “The house has been on the market for some time,” she said, “but I think it would be perfect for you.”
Suddenly, as if on cue, the house vibrated with the roar overhead of a jet engine as it came in low over the roof. The agent smiled nervously. “It is located closely to the Narita International Airport so you won’t have to travel far when you revisit the United States, yes?”
Kelly smiled back. “I lived under the flight path of the Charlotteville-Albermarle Airport,” she said calmly. “It will be just like home.” Kelly kept her face expressionless, wanting to laugh at the sudden look of relief on the agent’s face. “And the Metro?”
Once again, the agent slipped into her programmed sales pitch. “Just eight minutes away with a brisk walk,” she said. “The Tozai line will connect you to the Chiyoda line and you can walk to the University from either the Nezu or Yoshima stations.”
The agent gracefully slid open a door to show a large, furnished living room. “There is also an eat-in kitchen, a combination bedroom and study and the bathroom has a shower.” She wrinkled her nose. “With a little airing out it will be perfect for you and at 70,000 yen a month, it’s very affordable.”
Kelly looked around the spacious room. It was not that she was going to be spending a lot of her time here. Her responsibilities at the University as well as her studies basically meant she just needed a place to sleep and eat breakfast and dinner. “Is the upstairs apartment rented? Are there neighbors?”
“No, the upstairs needs to be refurbished, but the workmen only come during the day when you will most likely be at school.” The smile never left the agent’s face. “Motoyawata is a quiet neighborhood.”
Again, the house shook as a jet soared overhead.
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
Patterns: The Opening Paragraphs
“Our next drawing is for a traditional Go board.”
The crowd went silent waiting as the owner of Walt’s Cards and Games rummaged through the bowl that held slips with names of those who came to celebrate the store’s tenth anniversary. He plucked out a yellow piece of paper and Walt squinted as he made out the spidery handwriting. “Ryan Williams!”
There was sporadic applause as Ryan raised his hand. “Here!”
Walt held up his hands for silence. “I want to thank all of you for coming and celebrating our anniversary. I want to congratulate the ten people who won our drawing and when you come up to claim your prize, please bring some picture ID.”
Ryan made his way through the crowd that now focused on the table offering free snacks and treats Walt had made available for the celebration. Waiting patiently in line, he tried to suppress his jealousy as winners before him walked away with rare and expensive board games. A young kid walked by holding a copy of The Campaign For North Africa and Ryan doubted the boy actually had the ability to even understand the most basic rules. Maybe he’ll trade with me.
When he got to the front, Walt waved his ID away. “Know you well enough, Ryan. Enjoy.” With that, he handed a large, plain cardboard box to Ryan who whistled at the feel of weight and substance.
“Looks like I’m going to be learning something new,” Ryan said.
Walt smiled. “They’ve been playing Go for almost six millennia and I think I’ve had this game for that long. Never could find anybody interested in it, but if you can get some enjoyment out of it, I’m just glad to let it go.”
Ryan smiled. “So what you’re saying is that I’m getting your unsold junk?”
Walt pointed his finger at Ryan’s face in mock anger. “Walt’s Cards and Games never sells junk. But I’m willing to let you trade this for a pack of Yu-Gi-Oh! cards.”
Ryan laughed at the offer. “No thanks. I like myself. I’ll learn to play Go.”
Saturday, October 29, 2016
Sheila: A Morality Tale
Written many years ago, Sheila: A Morality Tale takes place in a parallel universe where sentience developed among humans and various species of animals. Much like Zootopia they live together basically in harmony and all the tales I wrote about this universe center around a watering hole called The Unicorn & Gryphon Pub, probably the only bar in the world that sports busts of St. Francis and St. Patrick above the door.
So if you can handle Sheila being an anthropomorphic goat, please enjoy this little tale of hamfisted morality that is quite suitable for this Halloween season.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
--Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Sunday, October 16, 2016
Kill Your Darlings (A Short Story)
He finally saw me waving through the window, and he waved back, yet as he walked to the entrance, he still looked about with a look that bordered on fear.
Inside, he shed his coat, and squeezed himself into the seat across from me.
“Skittish, aren’t you?” I asked as he motioned for the waitress.
“Fred, you are not going to believe what I think is happening to me. It’s … it’s incredible and I want you to tell me I’m just losing my mind.”
“Okay. You’re just losing your mind.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” he said, anger flashing in his eyes.“I think I’m in some serious kim chi.”
“Okay,” I said. “Spill.”
“First let me order something. I’m starved.”
He called the waitress over and ordered breakfast suitable for three men.
“Eating light today,” I said.
“Stress puts me off my feed,” he replied. “This has me all worked up.”
I boded my time as the waitress put a little coffee in Reggie’s cup of milk and sugar and wandered away. After taking a large gulp and a good amount of it joining the other stains on his shirt, he wiped his chin on the back of his hand and sighed. “Well, Fred,” he said, “remember that pile of stories I wrote for my humor anthology?”
I nodded.
“Did you read the one I wrote about the three girls attaining magical powers?”
I rolled my eyes. “Unfortunately. That was—how can I put this kindly?—sophomoric.”
“Well. Here’s the killer. Do you remember the last line of the story?”
I shook my head in the negative.
“Well, I do. I got the blasted thing memorized. I quote: ‘And when I get my hands on the clown who plotted this,’ Priscilla said through clenched teeth, ‘he'll wish he had never been born.’”
“Oh, yeah. I remember something like that.”
Reggie looked around nervously. “Fred, I didn’t write that. The last line I wrote was one of the girls making a crack about their new cheerleading routine.”
“Well … maybe you don’t remember writing that last line or maybe the editor thought she could improve on the story. I don’t know.”
Reggie shook his head. “Neither of them are true. And last night, I got an e-mail.” He reached into his pocket and unfolded a piece of paper and gave it to me. It was a computer printout and other than the typical header which said it was from a Priscilla Waverley, the message itself contained only on line. ‘A good writer kills his darlings. Maybe it’s time for the tables to be turned.’
“It’s a tasteless practical joke,” I said.
Reggie laughed, a high pitched nervous cackle. “Oh, but you see, I’m not a noob when it comes to computers. I know how to find the source of an email from its header.” He blinked at me owlishly through his thick glasses. “Fred, it comes from no known domain.”
I laughed in spite of myself. “Reggie, Reggie, Reggie, do you hear yourself? Do you hear what you are saying? You’re trying to get me to believe this e-mail came from a character in one of those silly stories you wrote!”
Reggie leaned in closer. “Fred, you gotta listen to me. Do you remember the super power I gave Priscilla Waverly in the story? I gave her the power to manipulate earth. Now you can ask my wife, but last night Emilia and I woke up to what felt like an earthquake.”
“It was an overloaded eighteen-wheeler driving by your house,” I said in growing impatience.
Then the waitress brought Reggie’s breakfast and our conversation was interrupted by my friend’s frontal assault on three Breakfast Specials. I nursed my coffee and kept silent while he ate. I learned early that getting Reggie to eat and talk at the same time was a guaranteed path to post-traumatic stress disorder.
In ten minutes he shoved his plates aside and hugged his refilled coffee cup like a beloved pet.
“So,” I asked, “what do you want me to do.”
Reggie shook his head. “I think I’m going to need some real help. If I find more evidence like this, you’ll help me right?”
I nodded. “Of course, but I’m telling you that you’re letting your imagination run away with you.. You need to relax. Go write a romance or something.” Reggie sneered and left. Three minutes later I realized he had stiffed me with the bill and the tip.
The next day was Sunday and that afternoon, I had just sat down to watch the latest Dr. Who bootlegs when the phone rang.
“I don’t know who this is and I’m not happy,” I said into the mouthpiece, when I was interrupted by Reggie’s high-pitched wheedle.
“Fred! Fred!” came the tinny voice over the phone, “You gotta help me! Please! Turn on the TV. Go to Channel 8!”
“Hold on,” I said. I found the remote I was sitting on and flipped the channels. A smartly dressed woman stood informing the viewers an unexpected earthquake measuring three on the Richter scale had struck south-central with its epicenter just two miles south of Dillsburg.
Where my friend lived.
“Fred, please. You gotta come. I don’t know what to do.”
“Reggie,” I said into the phone. “You have got to calm down. Literary characters do not come to life. It doesn’t happen.”
I heard my friend sob on the far side of the phone. “Fred. I’m calling from inside my writer’s shed. Priscilla Waverley is standing on top of the hill right across the road. Please come and get me out of here. I don’t think she’ll kill me if there are witnesses.”
Suddenly, I heard my friend shriek and his scream was drowned out by a low growl as if some gigantic beast had reared its head. The line went dead.
In two minutes I was in my car heading to my friend’s home.
My worry increased when the traffic report on the radio told drivers to steer away from the area that contained Reggie’s address.
Twenty minutes later, after lying through my teeth to get through the roadblocks, I came around the corner and brought my car to a halt alongside the road. My jaw hung open in shock.
Reggie’s home still stood intact, but a short distance away in an old field gone to weeds and shrub, an old shack served as his writing office. Or, better to say, had served.
Surrounded by rescue vehicles with their blinking lights, the place where Reggie’s shed should have been was nothing more than a huge gaping sink hole.
I put on the four ways and stepped out of my car. It didn't take any imagination to know my friend could not have survived the earth giving way under his very feet.
Slowly, I turned around to look at the grassy hill my friend had mentioned, the one that would have been clearly visible outside of his office window.
And there she was.
After gingerly climbing over a barbed wire fence, I slowly made my way up the hill to her, carefully picking my way around the occasional cow patty.
She didn’t run. She just stared at the destruction below with a sickly grin on her face.
“Priscilla Waverley?” I asked when I got close.
She turned and looked at me in alarm. “You know me? How do you know me?”
“Reggie told me that you were threatening him.”
She laughed. A little teenage girl giggle. “I think I did more than threaten.”
“No doubt,” I said. “Mind if I ask you a question? I really have to know.”
She shrugged. “Ask away. If I don’t like the question, I’ll just have the earth open up and swallow you. Nobody’ll ever know.”
“Do you have any memories of your life say, about a year or so ago?”
She snorted in contempt. “That’s stupid, of course I …” Suddenly she paused. Her brow furrowed in intense thought and a look of worry came to her face.
“In fact,” I asked, “other than the events in the story Reggie wrote and what you’ve done to scare him, do you have any memories of any life at all?”
She looked at me then. Scared. “I know if I think hard enough …”
“You know,” I interrupted, “I find it ironic that Reggie and his wife always wanted a child and in a unique sense of the word, he actually was your father.”
“Go … go away.”
“You’re guilty of patricide. And because of a perceived slight to your pride, you killed the man that brought you into existence.”
I had her full attention now.
“Now that Reggie’s dead,” I asked, “what’ll happen to you?”
She looked back down the hill at the ruin she caused. “I don’t know. I’ll get by.”
“No,” I said. "Not so. The man who brought you to life and could have sustained you is now dead.”
She looked at me, genuine panic in her face. “But you’re talking to me! You see me!”
I smiled at her. “Who, me? I don’t believe in you.” I turned on my heel and walked back down the hill.
When I got to my car, a policeman stopped me. “Excuse me, sir. But I have to find witnesses. Did you see what happened?”
“No,” I said. “It was well over and done when I arrived.”
“Didn’t I see you up that hill there talking to somebody? Could they have been a witness?”
I looked up at the empty hillside.“My apologies, officer, but you must be mistaken. I haven’t spoken to a living soul since I got here."
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