Story Jots #10 – Dying Truth

Hope was something she had let go of a long time ago. They all did. The only thing left was her and the few remaining days she felt she had to live. Her food was gone, and without a fire to boil the blankets of snow, consuming it to survive would only prolong the inevitable. Dead of winter had no mercy where she laid in wait, awaiting help she knew was not coming. Before long she too would be left frozen in time like everyone around her when their will to stay alive vanished. Those rotting bodies beside her were the only morbid company she kept. Her body ached and her mind continued to play tricks as she would awaken from unconscious drifts only to find herself still clinging to a cold pointless existence. She was scared but was getting used to the fact that she would die soon like those before her. Being the last soul alive it was now about preparing for it. Allowing the elements to take over and finally start to accept that this unforgiving place would be her prison forever. That was the dying truth.

Story Jots # 9 – A True King

The king of Canyon City was a cruel and unjust man. Corrupt and evil to the core. His people were growing weak, tired, and hungry by the day. Every ounce of what they had to give was being bled to feed his greed and selfishness. This undeserving king has been drunk with power for longer than most want to remember, and the everlasting drawn-out pain of his royal reign has aged everyone unfairly. No one cared anymore. They did as they were told because there was no other option but to concede to a vicious ruler that stole everything. Nothing much was left and before long, his people would wither and blow away like the dust across the barren land they called home. All of this was destined to become the last chapter of their existence until a rumor was heard. Whispers of a forgotten king. An uncrowned king with the blood of inheritance, the blood of the people. But will he fight for his people? Will he fight for his rightful throne? Will he fight to become… a true king?

Story Jots # 8 – Quarter to Death

Leroy Dink. “Dinks” was the Willy Wonka of arcades. He was strange, odd, socially awkward, and moody. Unlike the chocolate factory, there was no need for a golden ticket to get into his whimsical haven for kids. Nope…if Dinks liked you and you had money to spend, you were welcome. If Dinks didn’t like you and you had money to spend, the money was welcome. Oh, and another thing about Dinks. If he really wasn’t fond of you, well, let me just say this. There’s no free men when he makes you play for your own life.

Story Jot # 7 – Dark Twins (Continued)

Here’s the original Story Jot that started this tale. For continuity, (Please Click Here)

Aeryn: Sister, you’re injured. We should stop. That is a lot of blood coming out of that wound.

Adria: It’s fine. We don’t have time to stop. Those humans won’t be stopping, so we cannot afford to. Let’s keep on moving. You know the plan.

Aeryn: I know the humans are on us, I remember the plan, but we just need to slow down enough so we can heal you. Come, take hold of my hand.

Aeryn moves close to her sister who by now has no use of her entire left side. She could barely keep herself in flight. The gunshot wound she received from a shower of bullets sprayed at them during their escape was looking more and more serious. As soon as Adria got ahold of her sister’s hand, both began to glow. They flew in a trance-like state with their eyes closed as Adria’s wound began to heal and her skin slowly started to grow over. Colour came rushing back into her face and body and the blood stopped right away. She was healing.

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The Red Journal – Shots in the Dark

Need a recap? Please visit The Red/Black Journal Page

Friday, 11:50 P.M.

Officer Dusty Salad had been given strict orders to bring Detective Sarah Wilson directly home after the Burnside Country Club investigation wrapped up. No stops, no detours, just straight to 126 Maple Road. The address of Detective Ethan Frost and his wife Susan. Only, Officer Salad was not following the orders he was given. He was not on his way to 126 Maple Road. No instead, instead, he was driving his police cruiser in the opposite direction. And, in two short minutes, with the key party to those orders in the backseat, would be pulling up to Lochlan’s Pub. A bar located a few short blocks from the precinct that catered mostly to cops. It was the perfect place to blow off a little law enforcement steam and a place Sarah was a regular.

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James Harbour

Chapter One

It’s Been Addressed

The town of James Harbour was only a few short kilometers up ahead. Jake Fox, a police detective, travelling from the mainland, was hoping his assumptions were correct. This narrowing of the main road had to mean the god-forsaken bus ride would soon be over. It had to. For the four-hour ferry trip and the longest eight-hour drive ever from where the ferry finally landed him ashore had finally taken its toll. His whole body ached, and his neck made a crunching noise as he tilted it slightly to look out the tiny window next to him. Now, he was beginning to realize how remote this community was going to be. A complete contrast to the big city he just left behind. ‘Geez, can you believe people choose to live here?’ He mumbles under his breath. Jake Surveys the landscape some more. He couldn’t deny the beauty of the place. Snow-capped rolling hills, and rugged unforgiving mountains sheltered the tiny hamlet on three landlocked sides. Everything protected from the mood swings of mother nature. The picturesque backdrops he was starting to enjoy suddenly changed. They quickly went from the perfect desktop screensaver to a hillside you would see in Mordor from the Lord of the Rings. The Greyhound bus had begun its descent down a steep winding road. On the left, ice walls and cold black jagged stone. On the right, a thousand foot drop to the Atlantic ocean and some more cold black jagged stone. The further down, the more barren the place became. Jake’s grip got tighter. He looked straight ahead and at the very end of the road, he could barely start to make out what looked like a sign.

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Story Jots # 6 – Peephole Under the Stairs

Honey, have you met our neighbour?

What?

Our neighbour. The guy across from us in the adjoining apartment. Have you met him?

Ah…no, I don’t think so. Why?

Oh, nothing. I was just thinking today about how strange it is that we’ve been in our new place for three months now, and the both of us have yet to lay a single eye on him. Don’t you think that’s a tad odd?

No, not really. Maybe this guy likes keeping to himself. He could work awkward hours or something.

Yeah, I guess. But you would think we would have seen him coming or going at some point. His door closing here or there.

Baby, you are being weird. Who cares? Look, I am completely cool with not getting to know our neighbours. I hate those annoying stop and talks. Besides, shit’s tangly when people get too all up in your business. That’s the whole reason we moved. We hate people remember.

All I am saying is that I find it odd. I haven’t seen him in the laundry room, I am there pretty much every day. Both of us check the communal mailboxes, no sign of him there either and his mailbox is right next to ours. Plus, it is not only his door, but I also never hear anything coming from his apartment. Nothing. It is always so quiet over there. And, I am not weird. There was no need to call me that. You are being mean.

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Story Jots # 4 – Where is Danny Champagne?

Go ahead, tell me one more time that you don’t know where he is, and I am pulling this trigger. I’m tired of games. You know, it’s actually convenient you wearing that mask. Now I won’t risk getting too much of your ugly face all over my new black marble floor. My wife hates when I do stuff like that. She’ll be pissed if she finds out I brought my work home. Only, this time she won’t be too hard on me. Because you my friend, were stupid enough to come here on your own free will. This is sort of like delivery for me. What the hell were thinking coming to my house anyway? To my private masquerade party? Then, have the nerve to drink my expensive booze and hit on my ladies. They are all on my clock you know? You got some balls, kids. I will give you that. OK, cut the bullshit. Where is Danny Champagne?

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Story Jots # 5 – Serial Number

The body was easy to move from the place to the car to the boat. As it always is. Premeditation is kind of my thing. I have done this same routine maybe a hundred times. No, I believe it is a hundred and six times. Yeah, a hundred and six. You know, blondes are my favourite of all the women. Slightly more gullible. Usually more attractive. All of them walking by themselves late at night. Coming from their restaurant shifts, drunken bachelorette parties, or on their way to an ex-boyfriend. Then, I would present myself to these tired, these tipsy, and these texting specimens. Most nights, it is an unlit cigarette in poor lighting that works effortlessly. Cliché I know. Although, there were times I would fake a bleeding lip on this fragile face of mine. It was easy with these ladies the way I look. Always so helpful they are. But now I am bored. Unmotivated. No more of this killing racket. I am done. Finished. The girls just do not seem to fight back anymore anyway. Shall I leave a clue? Maybe allow one to getaway? Hmmm. Better yet! How about this one? Number 107. I mean, after all of that and you, my pretty blonde lady…are still breathing.

Fiction From A Photo – She Has No Past, You Have No Future # 1

Hey everybody,
I’m going to get straight to it. This category is something I have been playing around with for a while now. The premise is I will take a photo I’ve found somewhere and draw whatever inspiration I can from it and write a short, maybe long story from it. Plus, I would like to offer the same opportunity to anyone who wants to follow my lead and use both the photo and/or story title as a prompt. I would love to see examples of other forms of inspiration. It doesn’t have to be a story either. It could be anything from a story, a poem, a song, anything your heart desires.

OK, here’s the beginning of this one for me. I have a few chapters done of this prompt, only I was too excited and reacted. I went with the moment and posted. #amwriting

Don’t forget to tell me what you think in the comments, and let’s see where this goes.

Enjoy!!!

SHE HAS NO PAST, YOU HAVE NO FUTURE # 1

By: Ash Douglas

Marcus, get up! Come on. It’s not funny.
We have to go.
Do you realize I needed to be home fifteen minutes ago? Not cool.
You know, I’m going to be in deep shit again.
My Uncle is going to kill me for sure this time.
Marcus?

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