Archive for August, 2013


August 28, 2013 Leave a comment

I don’t have a lot to say this week. Life is moving right along and I am still waiting on a bunch of submissions to come back. I have just started another erotic horror story that may end up running long enough to be a novella instead of a short story. I am a little more than three thousand words in and I don’t see the ending yet.

If that is the case, then I will have to find a publisher rather than sending it in as a submission to the “Devils and Deviants” anthology. No big deal, but I am curious as to this trend. The last few things I have written have gotten longer than I had planned. I think this is a good trend but only time will tell.

L. E. White


Joshua felt the pin prick stings of heat on the back of his ears as the sparks rained down on him. He rose back up to his feet, the heavy hammer in his hands trembling as he tried to raise the weapon up in front of him.

The old axe came up in a slow, steady arc from where it had just struck. Joshua could hear the slurping sound of the muscles rubbing together as the corpse brought its weapon back up in front of it.

He tried again to call upon his god. The Bringer of Light should have looked upon his follower and granted him the divine strength to burn this undead monstrosity to dust, but the heavens did not answer.

The axe came down again and Joshua dodged to the side. He stepped forward and chopped down with his hammer. The smooth, flat surface of the heavy metal head struck the creature with the sound of a man dropping a large melon. Gore splattered out, throwing blood and brains all over Joshua and the body of his companion, Maria.

He shook from the effort. Maria had thought it grand fun to meet in the old crypts. The couple had come down many times to share a quiet moment alone but tonight she had wanted more. The serving girl had unlaced her bodice and from then on Joshua had been so focused on what they were doing that he had failed to hear the creature’s approach. Maria had been on top of him, head thrown back in ecstasy, when the axe had first come crashing down. The blade struck her in the chest and in that moment, Joshua had lost his love.

The young priest sat on top of the sarcophagus that they had used for their bed and wept. He looked down at her, seeing the deep gash splitting her chest and the splattered bits from the monster where he had slain it, and vomited.

His hammer rested on the floor beside him, handle leaned against the tomb of some long dead clergyman, while the young man struggled to regain his wits. His life was as good as over, he was abandoned by a god that would not tolerate his lack of abstinence despite him not having taken such vows yet. His love, the beautiful girl who he would have gladly spent the rest of his life with, now grew cold on the stone floor.

He could hear the blood dripping from her wound, falling to the floor with a slow, steady tapping.

Joshua wrinkled his brow. Maria was lying on the floor. There shouldn’t be a dripping sound.

Small, cold fingers gripped his shoulders, dragging Joshua backward along the lid. The mouth that had only just given him such pleasure latched onto his neck. The teeth that had nibbled on his lower lip gouged into his throat, ripping away a chuck of flesh so that his own life’s blood could spurt out and into the gaping wound that marred the marble white skin which he had been licking a short time ago.

Joshua managed to make a single, strangled sound before the darkness swept in on him.

Maria made many sounds as she feasted on her lover one last time.


First Encounter

August 21, 2013 4 comments

My son just came home. A graduate of Ohio Technical College with his certification as a Master Welder.

We are proud. Nothing else to say about that.

Anyway, I have noticed that my writing is in a slump. I have not managed to get as many stories accepted this year as I did last. I don’t know what the difference is, but something is different. I am going to have to work on that.

On a better note, I did receive an acceptance for the publication of one of my erotic stories. As soon as it is available, I will let you know where it is and provide a link. I am looking forward to publishing more in that area as well. However, I will not add that content directly to this site. I don’t want to worry about posting anything that might require age verification.

I am going to break from the horror today and throw out a little fantasy. I hope you enjoy it.

L. E. White

First Encounter

Gon stood in front of the dark, weathered door and gulped. The sack which held his clothes, and the one toy he had smuggled into his packing, was heavy on his shoulder as he watched his brother raise a hand to smack calloused knuckles against the wood.

The boy jumped with each echoing crack. His stomach twisted and rolled, making his groin clench and his knees shake as he imagined what his fate might be. Why had the crystal started glowing when he touched it? Why wouldn’t the stupid rock glow when anyone else touched it? Why did he have to travel with his surly brother Rolf to this crumbling tower in the middle of nowhere?

Why wouldn’t his father make eye contact with him when he left?

Why had his mother cried and refused to hug him?

Rolf glared back at Gon over his shoulder while they stood waiting. The oldest son had grumbled and glared at his little brother the entire trip, yet he also refused to look him in the eye.

The door opened with a whisper and Rolf jumped back from the darkness. The portal was lightless and the silhouette of something round or fat stood in the shadows.

Rolf grabbed Gon by the shoulder and dragged his trembling little brother in front of him. “This one handled a crystal and made it glow.”

There was a snort that sounded like the bull when he was dancing around the pasture in the spring. Hot air billowed out from the form and ruffled their hair three times before the snorting ceased. A low, soft voice hissed out of the door. “Leave him.”

The vice like grip that held him in front of the door vanished. Gon looked back over his shoulder to see his older brother, the oldest child, the one who would inherit the farm, the one who made the younger ones mind and was more likely to tan their hides with his belt that their father was, running away. Gon was alone, abandoned to some strange fate by his family.

All for touching some stupid rock.

A soft rumble began inside the door. Gon turned back against his will. He did not want to see what was in the doorway, but he couldn’t stop his body. As the sound grew, the boy realized it was someone chuckling. Light began to spill out around the shape and before long Gon could see that it was a fat straw dummy.

“Well now,” a voice that sounded a lot like his grandfather came out from behind the dummy. “What do we have here, eh? You stay right there while I move this out of the way.”

Gon saw hands grab the shoulders of the straw man and then the great round blob swung out of the way. A tall man, wearing a night shirt and cap, stepped back into the doorway and looked down at Gon.

“So, now that your brother is gone I want you to answer some questions for me. Can you do that?”

Gon nodded, swallowing again.

“Did you handle a crystal?”

Gon nodded.

The man bent his knees and squatted down so that he was closer to looking Gon in the eyes. “Now now, I want you to answer me, not nod and shake your head. A simple yes or no. Did you touch a crystal?”

Gon stammed and stuttered. He looked at the man, with black and white hair like his father and dark brown eyes like his mother, cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes.”

“Good. Did it glow?”


“What color was it?”

Gon frowned, “No.”

“No? No what?”

“No color.”

The man smiled and Gon smiled back. The tower might have been scary, but this man was like everyone else. He smiled, even if he did live here. “I mean what color was the glow, not the crystal.”

“Oh,” Gon said. He looked down at his toes and drew a line there. “Green.”

The man stood up and smoothed his night shirt. “Well then, come on in.”

Gon looked backward, to the dark spot where the trail had been. He looked but he couldn’t see his brother there.

“I am sorry son, but he left you here with me.”


“Because most people are afraid of magic.”

Gon turned back to the man who waved his hand to invite the child in. “Why?”

The man smiled. “If you keep asking why about everything you and I are going to become good friends.”

Gon stepped in. “My Da says I ask why too much.”

“You can never ask why too much.” The door shut with the same whisper it had opened with. “Wizards always ask why?”

“Are you a wizard?”

“Yes I am and if you will listen to me and do what I tell you, then you might be one someday too.”

Categories: Fantasy, Flash Fiction


August 14, 2013 Leave a comment

I love the automated posting feature that lets me schedule these things ahead of time. It is what let me post this story today since I am not online. Today, I am with my darling wife, celebrating our twentieth anniversary.

This story is for her. I love you dearest.

L E White


Rhonda walked up to the house, the steady click of her heels on the stone path quieting the sounds of night birds and crickets. She looked around, nervous to be alone in the country with no security lights or neighbors.

You are being silly, she thought as she rested her  hand on her purse. The zipper was undone and she could get to the tiny pistol in a moment, but there wasn’t anything around to be afraid of. She had just given herself the creeps because she was alone. Stop acting like an idiot and be a professional.

She stepped up to the door, brushed a strand of long, dark hard away from her face, and rang the bell.

“Just a minute.” An old, scratchy voice called out. Rhonda watched a dark shape through the frosted glass as it made slow progress towards the door. She stood waiting, fidgeting from foot to foot, until the knob turned with a click and the door shivered as it was forced open with a series of tugs.

“Hello?” An old man, old enough to be her grandfather stood holding the door. His white hair was thick and a little wild, although she could tell that he had tried to smooth it as he came to the door.

“Hi, I’m Rhonda.”

He smiled, a little lopsided and nodded. “You are right on time, please come in.”

I hate old customer, she thought as she walked in. She didn’t catch him looking her up and down, but she was pretty sure he just waited until she was past. Old men in need of comfort made up a lot of her income, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed doing it. It always took forever and she felt bad if they couldn’t perform. She still charged them, but she felt bad about it. “So you are Mr. Black?”

Her host made a sound of agreement as he shouldered the door back into place. When he turned back to her, the guy was just a little red faced from the effort, but he smiled at her anyway. “Why don’t you have a seat on the sofa and I will get us a drink? Then we can discuss the details of the evening.”

Rhonda smiled and nodded, hating this but needing the money too much to turn it down, before walking into the living room. She wondered if he had a cleaning service, because most lonely old men didn’t keep the place this neat. Everything was dusted and the furniture was in good shape.

A minute or two later, the guy walked in and sat a glass of red wine on the coffee table in front of her. Rhonda waited for him to sit beside her, but instead Mr. Black satin the chair opposite of her. I wonder if he just wants a show. She kind of hoped that she was right. Putting on a show was easier than pretending to get off with someone who wasn’t operating at one hundred percent.

“Alright handsome,” She said after taking a tiny sip of very good wine. “You read the add so you realize that this is two hundred an hour right?”

“I do.”

Rhonda stood up and reached back to her zipper. “So, anything specific you are wanting to do or would you prefer it if I take care of you?”

“I would like you to discuss this with you before starting anything. Please sit down”

She shrugged and sat back down on the couch. If he felt the need to be in charge that was fine.

“Today is my wedding anniversary,” Mr. Black began. “If my wife were here, we would be celebrating sixty years.”

Rhonda nodded and tried to look interested.

“You look quite a bit like my wife, which is why I hired you. I want to celebrate our anniversary.”

“Ok, then what specific things did you do to celebrate?”

“First, my name is Larry.”

“Alright Larry.”

“Second, I invited you here for dinner. You can keep your dress on.”

Rhonda blinked in surprise. “You just want company then?”

“And some help with the dishes, yes.”

The night turned around. Rhonda felt her mood spin as she realized she wouldn’t be doing anything physical with him. “I think I can do that.”

Larry smiled and took his time standing up. Once he was upright, slow steps brought him up beside her so that he could extend his hand. “Then why don’t we take care of dinner?”


Rhonda was laughing as she put the plate into the dishwasher. Larry was talking about the time that he and his wife, Erin, had went to a go cart track to race. “The worst part was that while I knew she was a better driver, I had done this before. She beat me by half a lap and I never stood a chance.”

“It sounds like she was really something.”

“She was,” he said, standing beside the fridge with one hand on the door. “She was amazing.”

“So what now?” Rhonda asked. “That was the last plate.”

“I made her favorite dessert,” Larry said. “Do you like Crème Brule?”

“I never had it.”

“Well then, you are in for a treat.” Two small white bowls came out and Larry sat them on the table. Each one had berries on top.

“Did you make those?”

“Yes I did.” He sat down and waited for Rhonda to bring over two spoons. “After she tried this, she said it was her favorite dessert, so I learned how to make it. Over the years, we would go to restaurants and she would get them. Every time, Erin would take the first bite, make a face, and then tell me that it was good but that she would rather have mine.”

Rhonda bit her lip to keep from making an ‘Awwww’, sound as Larry reached up and wiped his eyes. “I wish she could have dinner with me tonight.”

“I understand.”

He snorted and held the spoon over the top of the dish. “I even made an extra to set out for her tonight.”

Rhonda pushed her bottom lip out. The whole meal had been his wife’s favorites. Things he had worked for years to learn to make just the way she liked them. Dinner tonight had been the result of so much time and preparation.

Rhonda tasted the vanilla custard and groaned. “No wonder she said that. This is delicious.”

“Thank you.”

When they finished, Rhonda sat staring at the empty dish, thinking of the extra dessert in the fridge. She felt her eyes getting heavier and sat up straight to fight off the sleep that was sitting in after the meal.

“It’s ok Rhonda,” Larry said. “It will be easier on you if you go to sleep.”

The escort felt her head nod as she fought to stay awake. “Easier?”

“Yes, then you won’t feel any pain.”

Deep inside her mind, Rhonda knew she should be panicking, but the sweet taste of vanilla and the full feeling in her belly pulled her into the sweet darkness of sleep.


It was so much harder to do this than what it was a few years ago. He was getting old, his body was getting frail, and Larry knew that he would soon be going to the other side, to join his girl.

But not tonight and on this night, he would spend it with her. Here.

The skull on the altar belonged to one Erin Black, a remarkable woman who had lived a full life with the love of her high school sweetheart. She had been an amazing person and a powerful witch.

The skull was covered in hieroglyphs and runes. Symbols that had been hand carved into the smooth white bone by shaking hands. The surfaces were polished, showing a few spots from oil left behind by careful hands or from tears that could not be wiped away after they had fallen.

Below the skull, on a silver plate that Erin had picked out at an antique mall some forty years ago, sat the warm red heart of the human sacrifice.

Beside the plate, sat a dish of creme brule.

Larry knelt in front of the altar, pale skin and bony shoulders on display in front of the candles and statues of their beliefs. Ribbons of incense smoke wove floating tapestries in the air around the old wizard as he chanted.

Candles dimmed, a chill draft chased around the room and the heart beat once on the plate before going still again.

Larry sat on a black rug. A circle and triangle had been painted on it years ago by the soft hands of a natural artist who didn’t believe in herself enough to share her work with the world. Today, her pictures decorated every wall of the house.

Larry sat in the circle, eyes closed and rocking back and forth as he continued to mutter his incantation. He did not see the smoke settle to the floor and crawl along like snakes in short grass as it collected in the triangle.

He didn’t need to see it happen.

The smoke swirled and rolled. It drew in and twisted together until it began to take shape. Full breasts and long, curly hair that shifted from grey to dark brown came into being from nothing but love, force of will and thin air as the wizard began to sweat from his efforts. Curves took shape and sparkling blue eyes looked around the room before settling on the figure in the circle.

When Larry stopped chanting and opened his eyes, tears streamed down his cheeks and he smiled, a real smile that split his wrinkled cheeks and made his eyes disappear in an explosion of crow’s feet.

“There’s my girl.”

A soft voice, a whisper that was made of memory and dream tickled his ear. “Happy Anniversary.”


Categories: Flash Fiction, Horror, Magic

Final Results

August 7, 2013 4 comments

Soft white light began to bleed in through a pool of darkness. As the light grew brighter, fuzzy outlines took shape. On the right, there was a small table, a floor lamp stood beside it. The lamp was on and pointed at the ceiling, which lit the room with the reflection of its light so as not to blind the inhabitants.

On the left was a small stool with a small dark haired person sitting on it, staring at him.

Carl tried to shift, but couldn’t. When he pulled his chin to his chest to look down his body, the room swam and shifted, making him a little nauseous before settling down and allowing him to see that he had been duct taped to a table.

His work table. The one he had sat up in the basement of an abandoned warehouse near the river. The final experiment site before he planned to leave town and head south to find another group of test subjects.

Carl let his head fall backward with a sharp smack as his skull smacked down. “So that is why you ordered the same drink that I had.”

“Yep,” Jane said. She did not move, but sat still on the little stool with her knees pulled up to her chest. “That was it was easier to switch drinks on you.”

“You are the first woman, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

Carl lolled his head to look at her. “You had blonde hair when I met you.”

“Hair dye is pretty cheap.”

He smiled and closed his eyes. “You are smarter than I would have thought.”

“Thanks.” Sarcasm hung on that one word as Jane fought with herself. She turned and looked at the door. There were no windows in this room, she could not see the sky move from black to grey, but she could feel it. There was tension building at the bottom of her spine. The sun was coming.

“You had what I was having to be able to switch the drinks, but I watched you drinking yours. How did you avoid the drug?”

“I didn’t,” she said. “I just sipped it and tried to keep from drinking too much. When you would look away, I would pour the difference into yours.”

Carl sighed. “What are you going to do to me now? Do you intend to get even?”

“No. I just want to know what you did and why?”

Carl squeezed his eyes tighter. “I have been trying to find a way to cure degenerative diseases of the muscles and skeleton.” Behind the darkness of his lids he could see the small blonde forms of his children, running and playing in the time before the hospitals and drugs.

In the time before the funerals.

Jane shifted on the stool. “Ok, but what did you do to me?”

Carl sniffed and opened his eyes.  He trained bloodshot orbs on Jane’s arms where they wrapped around her smooth, pale legs. “I attempted to force your body to transform. I believe that the process of being built and re-built will fix any damage in your system.

Jane tilted her head to the side as she looked at him. “But I don’t have a disease like that.”

“No,” he said. “You don’t. But I had to get the transformation right first.”

Jane looked up at the ceiling. She wanted to run away, but she couldn’t. For once in her life, she was sure that if she ran away from this, it would be the end of her. She started to speak, but a sharp prickling sensation stole her breath as it ran up her spine.

“You were dead when I left you. Can I assume that the process worked?”

Jane nodded. “It did. I feel better today than I have in years. More energy and no trouble breathing.”

Carl smiled, a manic gleam coming to his eyes. “It worked,” he whispered, turning to look back up at the ceiling. “I was right.” He snapped his face back to look at her. “What sort of transformation is it?”

“I don’t remember.”

He frowned at her and watched as she shuddered. Carl’s mind had cleared and he noticed how blue the skin on her legs was. “You are cold and shuddering.”


“I think you were wearing pants in the bar but your legs are bare now?”

Jane stood up, revealing her naked form to Carl. She stepped up to the side of the table and reached a hand up to stroke his cheek. “I took my clothes off before you woke up.”


Jane leaned over so that she was looking straight down into his eyes. “Because the sun is about to come up and I don’t want them to get torn up.”

Carl’s eyes widened and he screamed. Jane let him, marveling at the sound and the way it echoed off the walls until it became distracting. Then she stuffed a piece of cloth into his mouth.

“You have ruined my life,” she said, stepping back as she felt another tremor course through her body. “And you didn’t even hang around to see what you had done.”

Jane grabbed her stomach and choked as she crumpled. She groaned as pain burned in a wave over her skin. Panting, she looked up at Carl.

He screamed into the gag as he watched her eyes change from brown to amber.

She was panting and moaning as her muscles rippled and the first cracking sound of breaking bones made her wretch. A moment later, she looked back up and rasped out her last words for the day. “Now you can watch what happens.”


Joey had been driving the bus for years. He liked it, because unlike a cab, most passengers kept quiet and left him alone. Tonight, his route would go almost to the Canadian border. This was a quiet drive and he would stay in town before driving back tomorrow night, offering him a mini vacation from his wife and kids. He looked back in the mirror, noted the grubby looking guy who looked stoned, the old couple who took this route a couple of times a year to visit family, and a dirty blonde woman who with her face leaned against the window.

He shut the door and put the bus in drive, happy to be able to take off on time with nothing to worry about.

Categories: Flash Fiction, Horror, serial, Were

Calvin and Hobbes Comic Strip on

August 2, 2013 Leave a comment

My wife is wishing she thought of this idea this summer.

Calvin and Hobbes Comic Strip on

Categories: web comic