Posts Tagged ‘Serial’

Say What? Part #5

June 28, 2017 Leave a comment

Tom looked from the seat to the dog a few times before turning around. It creeped him out when animals did that. Like the cat he used to have that would hiss at empty rooms before running out. He had hated that cat, but when it died, he moved out of the house because he didn’t feel safe in it when he was alone. Tom always figured that the cat knew something that he didn’t. Better safe than sorry.

Harry didn’t let up. Tom wanted to reach over and sooth him, but considering his current project. Considering that the old legends discussed a supernatural monster that he might be chasing, Tom just couldn’t put his arm up.

The dog might be onto something.

“Alright,” he said. “Calm down. We are out of here.”

He was so rattled that when he started to pull out, Tom forgot to check his blind spot. The honking of the horn made him jump as he slammed the brake. The sudden jerking of the vehicle nearly spilled the big dog into the floorboard, but all of the disasters were avoided. Other than getting cussed and flipped off, both Tom and Harry were fine as they pulled onto the street.

When he looked back into his rear view mirror, Tom thought he saw someone standing in the empty parking spot. He snapped around to look, but he couldn’t see anything.

“What the hell?” He asked Harry.

A chuffing bark seemed like about as logical an answer as he had come up with.

Categories: serial Tags: ,

The Hours #20

December 7, 2016 Leave a comment

I watched the others sleep but noticed that they did not sleep well. All of my companions twitched and fidgeted, making pained and frightened noises as they did so. I had no idea how long they would sleep, but I took the time to consider my course of action.

When they woke, each looked around in confusion with fear in their eyes before they realized where they were. Eyes roamed around, looking for the beasts from their nightmares as the quiet of the afternoon was ripped apart by gasps of surprise.

Samantha was the first to wake. She looked at me and her eyes narrowed when she saw Mary resting against my chest. When her eyes returned to mine, she bit her lip, lowered her eyes again and lifted her hand to wipe her eyes. She did not meet my gaze again, though she did sit up so that Carl’s arms were no longer around her. I wish she had looked up so that she could have seen me smile at her.

Mark was the next to rise. He looked around the boat and rubbed his neck. I assumed that was the last physical sensation he could remember from when I had watched the torch disappear into the night. After his eyes met mine he turned around and looked at Samantha. He looked at Carl’s sleeping face, sighed, and then turned to stare over the side of the boat.

Mary woke and began brushing her arms. She looked all over, searching her arm and skirts for intruders before looking at us and letting out a sigh of relief. She curled into my arms, burying her face against my chest and shuddered.

Carl was the last to wake. He jerked up with a start and drew in a huge breath. After his moments of disorientation, he sighed and shook his head.

None of us spoke. Carl and I picked up the oars and moved the boat along as fast as was possible until making our port. Odd and uncomfortable words were exchanged with the boat’s owners and the coach drivers, but everyone was as off put by our attitudes as we were.

My friends and I parted ways. I sat in the study, staring at the fire and drinking far more brandy than was my norm, replaying the dreams that I was certain were not just dreams.

I would have to proceed with caution. I would not hurt Mary. She deserved better than that, but I could not ignore what I felt for Samantha. In that strange dream world, despite its horrors and pain, I had found love.

Categories: serial Tags:

The Hours #19

November 30, 2016 Leave a comment

When I opened my eyes, I was genuinely surprised. I tried to reconcile the bright sunlight dappling my face through a canopy of dark green leaves with me memories of breaking bone. I could still feel the burning and tearing of my flesh where the worm had attacked, but the sight of clouds moving through the sky to my left made me question my sanity.

Perhaps I had lived a life of sufficient virtue to be granted paradise. Perhaps I was hallucinating. Perhaps I was even dreaming.

This thought stuck in my mind. The idea that I was dreaming beat upon me like a hammer striking steel yet I was sure I had just died. I should not be thinking at all. I should be nothing more than a ghost in a strange land.

Something made me look down. Some weight that made it hard to breath. I lowered my eyes, expecting to see an absence of legs or the worm chewing on my guts. I did not expect to see a pile of golden curls.

“Mary?” I whispered the word, speaking just above a breath.

I looked up and found that Mark was in the middle of the boat. He was curled in a ball with his head on his arm. Then I could see the toes of Samantha’s boots.


She was dressed, and whole, and alive. She was reclined in the other end of the boat, her dark curls resting on Carl’s chest, his arms around her.

I snarled at the idea of him touching her.

I looked around as the others slept and confirmed that we were all still dressed. They were all uninjured and as far as I could tell our canoe had drifted to the side a short ways before we were supposed to have landed.

We were alive and well. It had all been some horrible nightmare.

As I rested there, feeling Mary’s body move with her breath I watched Samantha. I looked from Carl to Mark and realized I was clenching my fist. It was more than a dream. I felt it in my bones. It was more than a dream and I would not leave the woman who had saved my life and shown me a new world. Samantha had shown me love.

There were many things I would have to change.

Categories: serial Tags:

The Hours #14

September 21, 2016 Leave a comment

Samantha and I made our way along the edge of the woods in a subtle panic. Throughout the day, we could hear the snapping of limbs as some creature made its way in parallel to our own. With every crack, I expected another demonic monstrosity to leap out of the forest. With every step, I did my best to keep myself between Samantha and our stalker.

Neither of us released the other’s hand for more than a moment.

“Stop,” she hissed.

I froze, my club lifted to the ready, and I held my breath. In a second, I could hear what the dear girl’s ears had picked up on. There was running water near by.

“It’s in the woods,” she said. “I don’t think it is very far, but we will have to go in.”

I shrugged. “We have to have water.”

At the same time, our unseen companions began making a great deal more noise. As the noise grew softer, I turned a questioning eye on the woman beside and she smiled. “I think our fellow travelers are hurrying after a drink as well.”

I smiled and relaxed. “Good,” I said. “Then maybe they will have cleaned out a path through the god forsaken trees for us.”

Within no more than a hundred paces, I was proven right. The thing on the ground was the size of a large bull, but it had green and gold feathers in place of fur. The cow-bird was pinned down, struggling under three hairless rats the size of large dogs that were tearing at its throat and belly. Samantha gasped when the poor things abdomen gave way, spilling its guts on the dirt where the creatures fell upon it in a snapping frenzy. We ducked behind a bush, shared a frightened look, and hurried away.

I could hear Samantha praying as we went.

Categories: serial Tags:

The Hours #13

September 14, 2016 Leave a comment

When I opened my eyes, I was looking at the back of Samantha’s head, and despite the horrors of these last few days, I could not help but smile. We lay side by side, pressed together like spoons in a sideboard, and I found my mind wandering down paths that I had been taught were not for a gentleman.

I could feel her moving with each breath. My arm was wrapped around her and she held my hand in hers regardless of being lost in slumber.I had to protect her. That meant that we needed to find more food.The bird had tasted heavenly, no doubt due to our hunger, but one of the feathered murders was not enough to leave us satisfied.

It also meant that we needed water. I was parched and for the first time that I could remember, I did not wake with a need to relieve myself. We would die of thirst in another day or two and I could not allow any harm to come to Samantha. She was now all that I had. She was all that mattered. Her body kept me warm, as mine did hers. We were lost, but together and now I looked at her as more than a simple acquaintance.  She was mine in many ways and I tightened my grip around her.

I must have squeezed too hard, for she stirred. I gave a silent prayer that she might be allowed a few more minutes of peace, though in truth my prayer was as selfish as it was altruistic. I did not want to let her go yet.

I heard a cracking sound. Something in the woods ahead of me had stepped on a limb. We were not alone and in this nightmare world, that meant we were in immediate danger.

The club I used to secure our dinner should have been right behind my leg. I pulled my hand away from the girl and reached back.


I shifted my arm back and forth, keeping my palm just above the ground as I searched for my weapon. I could hear my pulse thundering in my ears to the point that I wondered if I would be able to hear another limb breaking. My breath was shallow and as I searched, I felt my stomach clench with panic.

Samantha shifted so that he back was on the ground and she smiled up at me. Her lips parted in what I assume was to be a greeting, but she stopped as she studied my face. I did not look at her, but kept my eyes focused on the trees ahead.

Samantha began to sit up. Looking all around as she did so. She reached forward and picked up her own stick as she gathered her feet beneath her.

I rolled over, letting my eyes locate my bloody weapon since it seemed to have rolled beyond my reach. I snatched up the length of wood and spun back as another stick broke near by.

“What is it?” Her voice was so soft that I had to run over her words three times before I was sure of what she had asked.

“No idea.”

We waited and the sticks continued to break. Whatever was making its way by us, it did not come closer. Samantha jumped and almost whirled around to strike me when I put my hand on her shoulder. “We should leave.”

Samantha rested her hand on her breast for a moment, relaxing from the scare I had given her, before nodding and taking my offered hand in an iron grip and cracked one of my knuckles.


Categories: serial Tags:

The Hours #12

August 12, 2016 Leave a comment

Samantha and I walked for the better part of a day before we came to the edge of a small wood. We had both played an equal role in keeping the other going when the enormity of our situation would come crashing down. Each cared for the other, offering a hand or a shoulder as was needed, and in the course of the day I developed a deep appreciation for the woman.

I had thought her nothing but a brainless trollop when first introduced. After joining Carl and his betrothed for a meal, I then thought her a waspish shrew and I pitied my friend. Now though, I came to the conclusion that Carl would have been the lucky one. Samantha was filled with steel that made me feel effeminate at times. We traveled without food or water, and despite these hardships she carried on with far less complaint than I could have imagined possible from any lady.

“I don’t know if we should go in there,” she said, peering between the trees.

“We can walk around the edge,” I said. “But I believe we need to stay close enough to take cover if those birds return.”

“What about spiders?”

I swallowed and then flinched at the look on her face when she heard me. “I agree that there are many dangers, but I should think that we will be best able to react by staying on the edge. We can walk in the grass in an effort to ease our way.”

Samantha looked all around and nodded. “Are you much of an outdoorsman? Did you spend time in the field with Carl?”

“A little, though at this moment I am wishing I had spent a great deal more time hunting with him. Why?”

Before she could answer my stomach released a growl that could have frightened small children. Samantha smiled and I nodded, then we began to move along the woods.

I looked up, as I so often did during this leg of our adventure, and in the lowest limbs of one old, dead tree I saw two of the red winged birds that had destroyed our garments. I stopped, squeezing Samantha’s hand and nodded.

“What now?” She whispered the word into my ear, and the heat of her breath sent chills over my body in waves that must have mimicked water after dropping in a stone. I took a deep breath to aid in the search for my composure and dropped my eyes to the ground.

A large stick lay at my feet.

When I attempted to release her hand, the woman squeezed my fingers tightly enough to crack the knuckles. I patted her, took a stronger grip in an effort to reassure her, and knelt to gather up the weapon. She looked at me, panic washing over her face.

I moved forward with slow steps, making an effort to keep quiet. I doubt it mattered because the birds squawked and chirped at each other, making a tremendous amount of noise. I don’t know when Samantha realized what I intended to  do, but the second time I released her hand, she let go without complaint.

The impact of my club against one bird and then the limb below it caused the other one to take wing. Samantha was smiling and almost bouncing as she looked at the thieving little beast who had helped to destroy her dress. “Well done,” she said. “So we will be dining on squab tonight.”


Categories: serial, Uncategorized Tags:

The Hours #9

July 6, 2016 Leave a comment

Mark made two trips, dropping off arm loads of wood and switching to a fresh torch, before Samantha returned.  I was watching the sky as a wall of clouds worked their way towards us when she walked up and sat down beside of me. “Are you alright?”

She shook her head and sniffled. “I wondered about the time that Carl spent with Mark.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I have trouble believing it.”

“It doesn’t matter now. Carl is gone and neither of us can have him.”

I was at a loss for words. How on earth was I supposed to console this woman. Her fiance had been ripped out of our boat and she had just been told that he was cheating on her with one of the two people she was traveling with. Further, her best friend, my own fiance, had just been eaten by spiders. We were lost in an  alien landscape and at this rate, all of us were going to die. I was numb to it all. I felt cold and lost and I knew she felt the same, but I could no more offer her support than I could guarantee her safety.

“I have a question for you.”

I added one of the sticks that Mark had brought to the fire and stirred it up before turning to face her squarely and nodding my ascent.

“Why didn’t you try to save Carl?”

“Because I was afraid.” It was the simplest version of the truth.

“Can’t you swim?”

I nodded.

“Then what were you afraid of?”

I swallowed, and in the quiet of the night, it was an audible sound. “He,” I began, and I had to begin the sentence many times before I managed to say the words. “He didn’t fall into the water.”

She looked at me with what I thought was confusion.

“I saw something that looked like the yellow ribbons on a young girls twirling baton wrap around his throat and drag him backward into the water. I didn’t know what it was, and I froze.” Samantha stared and after a moment, I realized that tears were making their way down my cheeks. “I was a coward.”

Samantha did something that was, in my opinion, one of the most courageous things that she could have. Instead of breaking down, as I was, or crying and denying my claim, she moved closer and wrapped her arms around me in a fierce hug. I returned the gesture, and we sat there, holding each other for some unknown time, before she sat back, moving her hands to sit on top of my knee.

I looked away, ashamed of my tears, my cowardice, and my general lack of manliness in such dire times. I attempted to take a steadying breath and noticed the light moving towards us. “It appears the Mark is returning.”

I regretted pointing it out. Samantha scooted away and I missed the comfort of her touch immediately. She lowered her eyes to the fire while I watched the torch as Mark made his way down the hill towards us.

The light came closer, then seemed to dance back and forth. “What is he doing?” I asked as the little glowing spot moved back and forth so quickly that it seemed a glowing line in the night.

Samantha looked up while I rose and moved to the other side of the fire. The spot seemed to jump forward and then it flared. When it moved again, there were two spots and I realized that the torch had hit the ground, lighting some of the dry grass when it did.

“He’s in trouble,” Samantha said. She rose and stepped up beside me. “He must be.”

It happened again, and a third fire sprang to life along with a high pitched scream. I turned and grabbed two more burning brands from our fire and handed one to Samantha. “Quickly,” I said, took hold of her hand and pulled her behind me.

The fire jumped again but this time, it left a streak of light as it moved away from our camp. It was moving much faster than what Samantha and I could. I stopped after a few steps, listening as the scream died away. The trail of fire disappeared when I assume Mark was dragged over the ridge of the hill.

Samantha’s hand trembled in mine and her voice broke as she asked, “He’s gone?”

My squeezing her hand was the only response I could muster. We stood for a moment, watching the little fires as the flared and grew, but then it began to rain. The first cold drops of water smacked my skin before Samantha pulled me back toward our little camp.

Categories: Horror, serial, Uncategorized Tags:

The Hours #8

June 29, 2016 Leave a comment

When I came too, it was very dark. I was lying on Mark’s jacket amongst tall grass. Beside me, Samantha sat with her knees pulled up to her chest. She was pressed against me, though I don’t know if she was seeking warmth or providing it.

In front of us, I could just make out Mark’s outline. His arms were moving furiously and I soon discerned that he was attempting to make a fire by rubbing sticks together. I sat still, watching for a moment, letting the oddity of our current reality set in before I asked, “Is there any way I can help you with that?”

Samantha jumped and Marked turned to face me. In the darkness of the fading sun set, I could see his face shining and pale from stress and exertion. “If you think you can get this bloody fire going, then by all means.”

I moved forward and leaned close to examine the little pile of grass and sticks that Mark had gathered. “I am sure of it,” I said. “I have matches in my pocket.”

Mark huffed and fell backwards. “I didn’t think to check.”

Samantha snorted softly and I hoped that Mark had not noticed. The two seemed constantly at odds, though I had no idea why, and I did not want to deal with their fighting on top of being lost in some god forsaken nightmare countryside.

The matches brought warmth and, most importantly, light back into our world. We sat there, each on our own side of the little campfire, and stared at the crackling flames in silence for a long time. The night was not quiet, but none of the forest sounds led me to believe that we were in immediate danger. I believe that the same could said for what remained of my companions. Despite the hardships of our day; the insanity of our situation and the weight of our losses, they both seemed to relax a little as the evening wore on. Time passed and we all settled in.

“Can we build the fire up a little higher?” Samantha asked. She was sitting up straighter and rubbing her upper arms where the short summer sleeves of her dress did not cover her.

“No,” Mark said. “We are out of wood.”

I turned my face to the sky and then looked at Mark. “Do you mean we don’t have a lot of wood to make it through the night or that we are truly out of our store?”

“I put the last of it on the fire a while ago,” he said.

“I think we might need to get some more,” I said. “I don’t believe we should let the fire go out tonight.”

“I thought we would have enough,” Mark said.  “We can’t let it burn all night. What if it gets away from us? Carl told me you never keep a fire burning while you sleep.”

“Carl was talking about a hunting trip,” Samantha said. Her voice was low and the words almost dripped with condescension.  “We are lost and in danger. It isn’t the same thing.”

“Carl knew more about being outdoors than I did,” Mark said. “I simply listened to him.”

“Carl knew a lot more about a lot of things that what you do and if he were here he would be rolling his eyes at the stupidity of not gathering enough wood to make it through the night.”

Mark stared at Samantha for a moment and I watched his jaw clench in rage. I tried to think of anything I could say that would diffuse the situation but as I opened my mouth Mark jumped to his feet.

“How dare you,” he said. “You poisonous toad. Carl would no more roll his eyes at me for making a mistake than he would have said a harsh word to anyone. He was a great man and you have no idea…”

“Anyone can see how much more of a man he was than what you are,” she said. “But what you don’t know is what he thought of you.”

“I know exactly what he thought of me.”

Samantha snorted, raising her hand to cover her mouth in a lady like gesture that did nothing to hide her disdain. “Oh no you don’t. You never heard him complain about how you would whine and fuss. You never saw him roll his eyes when a mutual friend would refer to you and your effeminate ways.”

“You vapid little beast. You might have been his fiance but you did not know Carl.” Mark stepped towards her and I wondered if he meant to strike her. “He didn’t confide in you as you seem to believe. All he ever showed you was his mask.”

The girl stepped right up to Mark with her fists balled at her hips. Although Mark was a bit taller and heavier, Samantha seemed to be filled with a passion and power that added to her stature. For a moment, she seemed to tower over him despite the reality of their physiques. “I am his betrothed,” she said in a snarl. “I did more for him than you will ever know and I would do anything for him still. You were the same as the ugly puppy he took pity on. He allowed you to follow him around, nothing more.”

“You are so wrong.” Mark placed his hands on his hips and bent at the waist so that their eyes were level. “I was the one he truly confided in. I was the one who attempted to sooth his mind and I was the only one who accepted him for what he was. ”

“You might have acepted him but he only tolerated you.”

Mark let out a soft chuckle and I saw his shoulders relax. “Oh really? And after he would supp with you and your parasitic family, after he had his fill of the pandering because they want his family’s title, he would come to me.”

Samantha’s tilted her head up and shoved her jaw forward. Seh raised on hand, a finger extended to point it at Mark, but he just raised his voice and rolled over any protest she had been about to make.

“Did you know that we would sit, drinking and playing cards, until he had finished venting his spleen about, and these were his words, those foul leeches. He would rant about them, and then about his parents for squandering their fortune so that they needed a wedding to commoners with money. Finally, he would talk about you and your chaste kisses. About your cold hands and stern expression.”

“He had no cause to complain about my behavior,” she said.

“He was a real man, through and through. He had hungers and needs that you refused to discuss until your wedding night.” Marc lowered his voice. “I listened. I fell to my knees and worshiped the man that he was. I gave him comfort and cherished the opportunity to let him vent his frustrations.”

Samantha lifted her hand to her mouth, seeming to gasp, but she didn’t say anything else.

“He wanted to care about you. He tried at first but you were such a prude that you couldn’t even manage to keep your feet in his presence.”

This time, I heard the strangled sound that she made.

“You saw him in a state of undress one night after dinner, and you were so flustered that you managed to spill ink and wax on your night dress. He replaced it for you so that you wouldn’t have to explain it to your parents, but you had such a fit that you sent him home. Did you ever wonder what happened to the old one?” Mark threw his head back and maniac peels of laughter flew into the night. “I wore it, along with that bonnet you gave him as a keepsake. I wore those things on evenings when he felt the need to replace you.”

The sound of Samantha’s palm hitting Mark’s face was as crisp as a gunshot. Her motion was so smooth, that neither of us reacted before she had turned and run off into the darkness. I sat still, watching Mark rub his cheek.

After a few minutes, he picked up a burning brand and held it up as a torch. “I guess I should go get more wood. You can wait here, someone should stay to be sure the fire doesn’t get away.”

He took a few steps in the opposite direction from where Samantha had ran, then turned around. “I know what you thought of me. I don’t care, but I won’t tolerate it if you speak ill of Carl. Especially after you sat in the boat without trying to rescue him.”

And I watched the torch move away into the night.

Categories: Horror, serial, Uncategorized Tags:

The Hours #7

June 22, 2016 Leave a comment

Mark and I ran back to the ladies. I cursed myself for stepping away from them in this alien place, praying in between self recriminations that my Mary was okay.

We burst into the small circle of trees and found them both standing on top of the log they had previously been sitting on. Just in front of them, on the bed of dry brown leaves, was a bright blue spot.

“What?” Mark said. He wasn’t a man of action, so even this short run left him gasping for breath.

Mary squeezed Samantha tight to her chest, pointing at the blue spot. She trembled, and refused to speak. Samantha seemed to be convulsing and I realized that a sound which resembled a cross between a giggle and cry of pain was worbbling through the air in time with her breathing.

Mark stepped closer and I made my place at his heel. The girls tensed, Samantha squeaking in the process, but neither left their spot on the log.

The spot was bright, like a glob of new paint dropped on an old cloth. It was no larger than a half crown and if it had not been blue, I would have believe that it might be a coin. It reflected light like a bit of foil as the sun peeked at it through the canopy. It did not move until Mark was no more than two long strides away. When his foot crunched on a dry leaf, the spot lifted up, revealing eight spindly legs.

“A spider,” he said with a sigh of relief. “It is just a spider.”

“Just a spider,” Samantha said. Her voice could not be described as a shriek, but only because it lacked the necessary volume. “That thing is a monster!”

Mark chuckled and looked back at me. “At least some of life’s constants are still in effect.” He moved closer, easing his way towards it. “No matter how odd this forest is, at least we can count on a spider to scare Miss Muffet off of her tuffet.” Mark jumped forward, stomping the little brute and ending its reign of terror with a little crunching sound.

I watched the tension ease out of Mary as her shoulders relaxed. Samantha still clung to her, but she had stopped making the mewling sounds of fear that had filled the clearing when we arrived.

“Why don’t we find ourselves another spot to camp for the night?” I said.

Mary walked Samantha over and put her into my arms. “Hold her while I grab our parasols,” She said.

I wrapped one arm around Samantha’s shoulders and the poor woman sagged against me, forcing me to hold her tight just to keep her on her feet. Mark looked at her with a sneer on his face, but thankfully he didn’t say anything. I attempted to give him a look of gratitude, hoping that my expression displayed my sentiment without revealing how much fear I carried. We were well and truly lost. Neither of us were experienced outdoors men and we had no real supplies. I worried at what would happen if we were to spend more than a single night out.

There was a huff and a crack which caused me to look up. Mary was standing with one of the parasols in her hand, but the crack had been her smacking the end upon the ground. She had just smashed another of the blue spiders.

“I thought you killed it.” She said.

“I did,” Mark said.

Mary opened her mouth to retort, but she was cut short as another spider landed on her arm. Herr words changed to a startled gasp and she dropped her weapon to attempt to brush the arachnid off. It flew free, but another landed on her shoulder.

I looked above us and felt my blood freeze as I watched a cloud of bright blue spots lowering themselves down from the canopy. I released Samantha and she landed on the ground in a sound like that of an old rug dropped into storage. Mark and I both took a step towards Mary, but he jerked away to swat at a spider on his arm and I stopped moving as one of the little bastards fell right in front of my face.

Mary screamed and a red spot appeared beneath one of the blue ones that decorated her dress. I swatted the bug away from my face and smashed one on the ground in front of my shoe, but I only managed another step. In the second that I had hesitated, my darling’s beautiful white sun dress had been splattered with a mix of red and blue spots. One of the little vermin had landed on her cheek and where it bit her before she managed to brush it away, blue lines spread over her skin as if drawn on there in ink. She swung her arms once more, then stiffened and looked at me with wide eyes. She mumbled a slurred and unintelligible word before slumping to the ground. More spiders landed on the ground between us, some scuttled toward me, others rushed to join their fellows as they swarmed over my fiance.

I stomped the ground, spinning to try and keep them away as I considered jumping over the remaining steps to attempt Mary’s rescue. Something hit my back and before I could turn, I was being drug backwards.


“No.” Mark screamed the word, dragging me off my heels as he pulled me away. “It’s too late. Stop!”

I regained my feet and whirled around. I had my fist drawn back with every intention of laying the womanly man on his ass so that I could resume my efforts to save my beloved. When I took aim, I saw a spider on his shoulder and changed my target. Mark staggered with the force of my strike, but his attacker burst, splattering his top coat with its brownish guts.

I turned back with every intention of running to Mary, but the sight of her, lying on the ground, covered with bright blue spiders, stopped me. She already looked withered. Her eyes were wide and her lips moved as if she were trying to say something. I wanted to walk forward, but everything seemed to shift to one side and I fell to the ground. The last thing I saw before a wave of black rolled over my vision was one of the spiders crawling out of her mouth.


Categories: Horror, serial, Uncategorized Tags:

The Hours #6

June 8, 2016 Leave a comment

The reduction of our band from five to four left us silent for hours. I led us away from the water, and whatever it had been that dragged my friend below the surface, at a brisk pace. The other three were nearly catatonic, which is probably the only reason we managed as we did. Had we stopped to discuss this disaster, then we might have fallen to the same horrors as poor Carl.

The sun was flirting with the horizon before Samantha collapsed. The ladies had been troopers but it was obvious that we would travel no further without a long break.

Mark looked at me, then up into the canopy. He stared for a moment before extending his hand to help me up. “I think perhaps we should attempt to get a better account of our surroundings while the ladies rest.”

Samantha’s lip curled in a snarl as she glared at her hands, though she didn’t make a sound. Mary wrapped her arm around Samantha, pulling her friend close, and nodded.

We moved a short ways away before Mark stopped walking. He placed his hands on his hips and stared at me for a long moment. “I don’t know if you realize it or not, but we have far more problems than is readily apparent.”


“What time would you estimate it to be?”

I looked at him, confused by his question. “With the sun so low, I would guess it is about seven in the evening.”

“Right,” Mark said. “We are not far from night, lost in some god forsaken forest that doesn’t resemble any place any of us have ever been, and we have no shelter.”

I nodded. “I would be worried if it were not for the face that roads follow the river on both side. We should be upon one any moment.”

Mark shook his head. “You do realize that we are not where we thought? You do realize that we have walked for hours and we should have hit the road in less than one? We are more than lost.”

“Just relax,” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We will all be home soon and then we can …”

A scream cut my words in half.

Categories: serial, Uncategorized Tags: