This tale is about a boy who must save Halloween, return home, find the underlying cause for four folktales, and join in his brother later. Which will, in turn, unleash a shadow in the dark forest.
This story is about an adventurous boy named Ony Lantern, who made a promise to save Halloween. He must deal with four missions attached to four folktales and overcome the challenges in the Himalayan mountains. This is where he will face the wildlife who create mayhem in Halloween-land. Jack, his younger brother, would join Ony on his fourth mission, where he would practice on an exceptional flair he had built up. Casey is a pretty little witch on a broomstick. She must lead the adventurous brothers on their missions. When she found out she could bring her parents back from another dimension, this brought Ony and Casey’s missions to a whole new level.
Jack and Ony Lantern know they will be the perfect superheroes for the adventure.
Put your Halloween costume on, grab a Halloween treat, and get ready for a ride to a land filled with Halloween madness!
Author: Sylvie L. Gionet Genre: Children, Children’s Halloween, Grades 2-12 Publication Date: September 28, 2020 Pages: 187
Setting: Earth, another dimension in a place called Halloween-land.
Protagonist: Ony and Jack Lantern, along with Casey, were situated as our leaders.
Problem: Someone was eating the delectable desserts in the warehouses, amongst other things.
Antagonist: A variety of wildlife in the Himalayan mountains got a whiff of the fresh baked goods in Halloween-land.
Conflict: Ony and Jack have a blend of unique pumpkins seeds for the wildlife.
Goal: To bring the wildlife to Halloween-land, so they could be a part of the Lantern family.
Excerpt
Chapter One: A Family Legacy
It’s a chilly, breezy evening in Ponchatoula—a small city in Tangipahoa Parish, Louisiana.
One mile down the dirt road, there’s a thick forest leading to a driveway. At the end of the road, you will arrive at the Lantern family farmhouse: 369 Hucks Hollow. Flickering Jack-o’-lanterns border an old wooden veranda, and plenty of bats drift on a cord from the overhead beams. Strings of fake cobwebs with lifelike spiders stream across the old timber windowpanes. The Lantern family has placed tombstones and scattered imitation bones and a skull across the lawn. White sheets bundled together form a ghost dangling from the towering bushes and trees.
Paul and Olive Lantern inherited the old and roomy farmhouse from Paul’s grandparents. The spacious farmhouse was ideal for their two young Halloween fans. Olive and Paul were thrilled that their children had a flair for this special event. Every year they would let their excited boys dress up for one week in an assortment of costumes. Eleven-year-old Ony Lantern, and his nine-year-old brother Jack, gear up for the creepy night by parading around the old house while their mom prepares lots of pumpkin treats. The children’s excitement about living on a spacious farm was also due to a huge pumpkin patch out back.
Chapter Two: The Pumpkin Patch
The splendor of the fall leaves could be seen at the Lantern family home. Late October in Louisiana was when the frigid winds whirled the foliage everywhere. Orange, red, and golden shades of leaves were piled out the front and the back of the old farmhouse.
Paul had already put the boys to work in the second week of June. He took them to the barn and taught them how to plant four types of seeds in peat pots. The seeds grew for three weeks and were then ready for transplanting. Paul had instructed the boys on how to plant the seeds in a raised mound, one foot across in a wide patch. The eager boys dug a generous amount of aged compost into each planting hill before transplanting. They used no insecticides when the pollinators were active.
“Pumpkin plants have separate male and female flowers on the same plant. The bees or insects transfer the pollen from the male flowers to the female,” Paul had told them.
Ony and his dad’s favorite seeds were the Big Moon and Ghost Rider seeds. He showed Ony and Jack pictures of these two types of pumpkins. The Big Moon and Ghost Rider pumpkins had a black and orange ribbed rind, and a dark-green or black stem that sprouted up through the center. They were the best pumpkins for carving. Jack’s favorite was the Happy Jack pumpkin seed, and Paul had mentioned the plump pumpkins were the best for baking. He picked up a popular-selling seed for Olive, but no one knew the name of the seed, so he named it after her. When they were ready, her sweet globe-shape pumpkins were smooth, and a bright orange. Paul knew this popular pumpkin seed was excellent for baking too.
It was now the third week in October and Paul was ready to spur his boys into action for their first harvest in the pumpkin patch.
The fall morning was cool and the enthusiastic youngsters looked forward to a second day of harvesting. After breakfast, Jack and Ony asked their dad for more pumpkins.
“You fellows need to put on warm clothing, it’s chilly outside this morning,” he suggested, and smiled at Olive.
Olive reached into the wardrobe and gathered hats, scarfs, mittens, and winter coats. Jack struggled to put on his bulky winter coat, but Ony breezed along putting on his own clothing. She flipped a Halloween cloak over each of the boy’s shoulders and fastened the clasps around their hero costumes.
“Thanks, Mom. I am positive I will sweat to death in this bulky, bodyhugging jacket.” Jack could barely move.
“My goodness, you have grown out of that jacket, Jack. You are almost as big as your brother. Let me get you another coat.” Olive searched through the winter clothing and found a bigger lightweight coat. Ony stood ready and tapped his foot, waiting for his finicky little brother. Jack obviously thought he had grown as big as him.
Paul reached for a winter coat on a hook by the backdoor. He put on a knitted hat and a pair of leather gloves and threw a scarf over his neck. Paul unfastened the latch on the back door and stepped outside and closed the door. Earlier in the morning, he had hooked up two horses to a wagon in front of the barn. Pulling himself up, Paul sat and waited for the boys. Jack and Ony shoved the back door open, slammed it into the wall and dashed outdoors. When they arrived at the barn, both boys jumped up onto the wagon. Ony and Jack stretched out beside their dad. “Let’s go, Dad,” they both said excitedly.
Paul looked at the enormous smiles on his sons’ faces. “Giddy-up,” he said and flicked the reins. The horses trotted along a path. When Paul stopped the horses, Jack and Ony jumped off the wagon and went straight to harvesting.
As the pleasant morning whizzed past to lunchtime, Paul’s ambitious sons entertained him the whole time they wandered around in the patch. The choosy boys explored the jam-packed patch for the biggest and tiniest pumpkins.
Olive, meanwhile, kept herself busy. She baked a variety of pumpkin treats for the family, but most of her creations did not appeal to her. She reflected for a moment . . . “The boys give me ideas for desserts daily—I wonder where they get their ideas from? Hmm, actually I believe I know!” Olive then sorted through the wooden recipe box on the counter filled with pumpkin recipe cards.
The back door was flung wide open and hit the wall. Olive jumped. The energetic boys proceeded to haul loads of pumpkins onto the back porch. She spotted them both through the window in the kitchen, placing the pumpkins here and there in the old farmhouse.
“You boys certainly do have grand ideas when the days start to count down to Halloween!” Olive wiped her hands and placed the towel on the counter. The boys were actively going in and out, so she sauntered into the hallway to watch her adventurous sons.
“No worries, Mom, we got this.” Jack spoke in a high-pitched voice. Olive observed their flushed cheeks and smiled. “Okay.” She looked around and checked out at what two days of harvesting had done to decorate the old farmhouse. Her eyes were wide as she scanned the surroundings carefully, then she sighed and set her sights on the kitchen and returned to baking.
Before bedtime, Jack rushed up the stairs to his bedroom to change into his star trail pajamas. Then he darted over to Ony’s room. When he showed up, he assumed a cyclone had struck this enormous bedroom. It was a serious disaster zone! Several costumes hung on the old brass handles on the wooden wardrobe. Ony even had Halloween socks spread out on the floor, and they were here and there and everywhere! His skull lantern on his worktable was lit, but at least his homework was done. Jack’s eyes were bright as he peeked around the spacious room. Decorations from Dad’s favorite Halloween store dangled from the walls. There were skeletons, grim reapers, ghosts, bats, witches, spooky spiders, mummies, and tombstones.
He gazed at the unusual poster Dad had given his brother today. Ony had fastened it to the wall and trimmed the bottom with four orange lanterns. On it, on one side, an iron gateway led to a graveyard. On the other side, a skeleton pirate guarded the entrance. Unlit candles and lampposts lined a stone walkway, and beside it was a wishing well. A ghost dangled from a decrepit tree, and it had a creepy-looking spider dangling from a bare branch. Scattered underneath another tree were skulls, tombstones, and bones. But what caught his interest was the full, bright Hunter’s Moon. The big moon bathed the twisted tree branches in a gleaming light. Its moonbeams shone between and on top of two dark, closed wooden coffins just below. Two skeletons stood alongside them. The stars sparkled in the background and made the mountain peaks shine. Pumpkins lined the stone walkway, and one was lit from inside. The poster looked mysterious, and it seemed virtually alive.
This looks amazing, but my room looks just as good as this, Jack thought to himself. His bedroom also had an original poster on one of his packed walls. The universe fascinated him, and this poster he had received from his dad showed the solar system surrounded by mountains whose peaks were covered with snow.
One of the carved jack-o’-lanterns flickered, so Jack took a quick look. Ony had them in every corner of his room, and they were lit with solar candles. Jack thought back on how he watched him polish the orange to a deep shine using a dab of olive oil and Dad’s old rags. That is when he had decided to ask Ony to help him with his.
Jack asked his parents for pictures of the universe for his bedroom, while Ony asked his mom for Halloween socks and Halloween decorations for his bedroom. Both boys had plenty of these items from their parents and grandparents, along with countless costumes, but Ony could never have enough!
Ony turned around and noticed Jack standing at the doorway. Jack smiled at the surprise on Ony’s face—Jack knew how quiet he had been!
“Hey, Jack, are you finished checking out my room?” Ony asked, while he sifted through a stack of Halloween socks. Jack had a stake in his stash of treasured socks because Ony had promised him a pair.
His hands clutched at each other tightly, and he hoped today might be that day. Jack watched Ony closely.
“Here, have a pair.” Ony passed him a pair of Halloween socks decorated with hunched black cats on top of pumpkins.
“Finally, thanks, Ony.” He snagged the socks before his big brother changed his mind. Jack took off his own and put on the new socks. “Wow, the same socks as yours,” Jack said in awe.
“Mom bought me the same ones as last year, so you can definitely have those.” Ony slipped on the same pair.
“How about we sort through our costumes? You can help Mom place the Halloween spider sticker on the calendar tomorrow.”
Olive put these weird-looking tally marks on the calendar every day. The boys saw the tally marks, but they ignored them as they didn’t know what they meant.
“Five more days until Halloween. You know what that means, Jack? We can dress up as a scary creature or a hero,” he said and laughed at him. “Yippee,” Jack said. He sat on the edge of Ony’s messy bed and flipped both feet up to admire his new socks. “I’ll meet you after school. It’s hero day for me tomorrow.” He bounced off the bed and left Ony’s room.
“Okay, see you tomorrow, Jack.”
As Jack turned to say goodnight, he saw Ony had picked out his Frankenstein pajamas for the night.
When Jack arrived at his room, he marched straight to his closet full of costumes. As he entered, a bright glow caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He looked to the left and then to the floor. That is when he realized his ghost costume had a pile of glowing pumpkin seeds on top of it. Jack sank to his knees and wrapped the costume around the tiny seeds. He sprang up with the costume in hand and strode into Ony’s room.
Ony turned. “What’s that in your hands, Jack?”
Jack lifted the costume and showed him how it glowed.
Ony took the bundled costume from his hands. “What’s going on, Jack?” He raised his one brow as he waited for more details.
“I’m not sure,” Jack whispered. “Look at what I wrapped up; this is super strange. They’re inside the costume.” Jack’s face showed how surprised he was.
Ony nodded and placed the costume on the bed. When he unfolded it, he eyeballed the glittering seeds. He gasped. “Wow, Jack, where did you find these seeds?”
“In my closet. They weren’t in there last night, I swear it.” Jack put both hands to his face. He suddenly realized that he continually asked his big brother for the best explanations for everything since he always had the answers. Jack stood in front of Ony and waited for the answer expectantly. Ony passed his hands through the pile of tiny glowing pumpkin seeds, which glittered brightly.
“Shush, tell no one. These seeds are out of the ordinary.” He stared into Jack’s bright eyes and thought for a moment. Ony rubbed his chin. “Mm . . . I realize what is going on. Dad must have done something to these seeds— he lives for a good Halloween prank.”
“Whatever Dad did to them, I’m sure you can deal with it, brother,” Jack said, giving Ony the benefit to solve the mystery.
“Okay, I will hide your costume and these mysterious seeds in my closet.” Ony paced around the room and then turned to him. “But what if Dad didn’t put them in your closet? Where did these glowing seeds come from? Did Mom put them in there?” he wondered out loud and shrugged his shoulders.
Jack shook his head from side to side. “No, I don’t think Mom put them there. If she knew we had more seeds to plant, she might have something to say to Dad.” Jack covered his mouth and giggled.
“Once again, I am sure Dad is playing another Halloween prank. After all, every year he arranges something around the house for us to find. Remember how he put plastic spiders in your bed at our old house last year, and you lost it?” Ony said and chuckled.
“Yep, but he put plastic lizards in your bed too. So Dad is at it again. I will not tell anyone, I promise. This stays our secret, brother,” Jack said truthfully.
They both gazed at the glittering seeds and wondered if this was definitely a Halloween prank. Was it a trick or treat?
“It’s getting late. I can hear Mom and Dad; they are coming up those creaking stairs. Oh, Dad said tomorrow night is a great night for stargazing on the tractor. He said it’s almost a full Hunter’s Moon. That is awesome. Hurry, go to your room and pretend you’re asleep.”
Jack nodded and darted out of Ony’s room. He headed across the hall and leaped into his car bed and pulled the covers over his head. Ony carefully wrapped the tiny glowing pumpkin seeds back in the ghost costume and hid it in the closet. He hurried to his bed and jumped right in and pulled the surrounding covers to his face.
Olive sauntered into Ony’s room. She peeked over the bedclothes and noticed him sleeping.
Sylvie is giving away TWO signed copies of A Halloween Adventure with Jack & Ony Lantern, each including a bookmark and keychain. To enter, all you have to do is LIKE this post below. For an extra entry, you can LIKE the link to this post on Meghan’s House of Books’ Facebook Page. Have you joined the Halloween Extravaganza Facebook Group yet? There’s a third chance at an entry inside. You simply have to LIKE the post there as well. That’s THREE – count ’em – THREE chances to win a signed copy.
Boo-graphy: Sylvie Gionet is a writer of fiction and an accomplished photographer. A Halloween Adventure with Jack and Ony Lantern is her first children’s book. If you like a dark folktale but a pleasant story, then you will enjoy Jack and Ony’s mystical journey.
It was cold when they kicked him out of the pub. Joseph only wanted to buy a bottle to take home. They hadn’t sold it to him after he vomited in the gentlemen’s. But tonight, of all nights, he needed it.
Just like every other night, really.
The rain drenched him, but he didn’t care.
All he wanted was a drink.
He didn’t want to see his family, sitting around the table praising his brother John for the promotion at the bank. Declining the inner invitation, Joseph had made excuses before John’s mocking laughter caught him at the door.
“Let him go, mother, he’s tight already.”
Joseph had proven to himself that his level of sobriety was nigh on angelic then, compared to what he was now. The world swam, and he struggled even to see in the dreary night.
He was lost.
The streets kept turning about, the normal route that should have taken him up Beverly and onto Gardner found him on Vista. Rain turned to sleep as he stumbled through the sleepy streets.
It was lucky, he thought, because if he hadn’t been drunk the cold would’ve bothered him. He’d get home. The rain had momentarily confused him. As the downpour turned to frozen slush on the pavement, the slippery surface caught his unwary feet.
There was a flash, and the sidwalk was level with his eyes.
He blinked away stars, feeling an echo inside his head, and the world went black, streetlamps dying out… only to come back. Joseph studied them, fading in and out, waiting for it to stop.
A part of him assessed the damage, cold and distant. This was bad. He’d fallen and given himself a severe concussion. It wasn’t the first time. The last time had been… had been…
Joseph tilted his head to the side so he could retch, agony rushing through him, sharp this time as he spat out the contents of his liquid dinner.
“This no’ good,” he muttered to himself, staring at the amount of vomit on the pavement.
Joseph got to his knees, and his stomach regurgitated yet more liquid, the stench of alcoholic bile bringing up everything until his body was curled in its own excess.
Pain lanced through his head, an iron spike that squeezed his eyes shut, and he didn’t see the men talking toward him.
“Tad ossified, sir?” one asked.
“Might be.” Joseph slit an eye open to see two policemen there and breathing a sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t about to be robbed. That would have been the highlight of the evening. Or possibly it had turned worse; it was the police after all.
“I’m trying to get to 161 South Gardner,” he said, searching for excuses not to be dragged to the drying out tank. His father wouldn’t bail him out, and when he treated like he had tonight, he meant it.
“All good, sir,” the policeman said. “We’ll get you home.”
They picked him up under the arms, the journey foggy until he was standing in the porch’s light. The policemen knocked on the door and Joseph couldn’t stop them in time.
The maid opened it, her mouth dropping open at Joseph’s state and the presence of two officers.
“Oh, I’ll get Mr. Norman.” She dashed off.
Joseph tried to pull away, to stand on his own two feet, but even with his stomach empty of alcohol he was still drunk. His head hurt, thumping in pulse to the angry pounding of his father’s footsteps.
“Thank you, officers,” his father said and shook their hands, a glimpse of paper in his palm. The officers’ smiles were wide at the thick wad of money – the cause for their kindness, which continued as they tipped their hats and left.
“Walk around back and get in the guesthouse, boy,” his father intoned, not letting Joseph in. “I will not disgrace your mother by letting you into this house. I will not let you ruin John’s good fortune because you’ve pissed your own pathetic life away. You were a doctor, and then you drowned in a bottle. I should have told you I was disowning you, but I didn’t want you to come home like this, you’re a disgrace…”
It went on.
Joseph stopped listening, and he didn’t even notice when his father shut the door. How long he’d been standing out on the porch he was uncertain, the world’s tears falling on his shoulders. He turned around, walking around the outside of the house and down the side path to the guesthouse.
The door handle didn’t want to open.
The deck chairs around the covered pool were inviting, even with the cold, but the bitter chill was getting worse. He had to get into the guesthouse. There was a gas heater inside if he could concentrate long enough to open the door.
Another shove pushed the door open, and it slammed when he fell against it. Stumbling steps took him to the center of the room, but looking about it was as welcome as the rain covered chairs outside. Dust sheets covered the furniture and became the ghosts of his past. Silent and accusatory, he waited to hear their pleas to make the pain stop, though they were naught but memories.
Standing alone in the dusty space, Joseph fell to his knees and cried.
No family.
Friends dead in the war.
Few who understood what being in the medical tents was like, what it did to you, night after night. The endless screams and the visions that haunted him.
During the day now, it was worse, he could see them during the day… he could see them right now…
Letitia wrenched herself away, manifested as physical reeling, and her hand slapped down on the table. The end had been so subtle, it had wrapped about her with the tentative touch of a spider, coming closer to bite her and share the death with Joseph. She gripped the wood, absorbed the warmth in her palm, sweat on her upper lip, and a chill on her skin from the cold of Joseph’s death.
“Ms. Hawking, are you all right?” Mrs. Norman asked.
“Please,” Letitia said, before quieting her tone. “A moment, please.”
The traces faded, fingers of death slipping her by as she recovered her breath and grounded herself in her own body.
Letitia didn’t know what she would tell those patrons. They wanted to know if it wasn’t their fault and to be sure Joseph hadn’t passed with regrets. The guesthouse was an eerie reminder of their transgression, but it wasn’t because Joseph was there, since he was glad to be gone from the world. It was their own guilt.
“Ms. Hawking,” Mr. Norman said, voice gruff, disbelief on his face. Opening his mouth to contest her, she cut him to the quick.
“You were there, at the door, when the policemen brought him home.”
She watched the skin of his pale cheeks become reddened, and she pushed on.
“You told him how… unimpressed you were after the police left.” Letitia didn’t stop, even as Mr. Norman glanced with shame at the now sobbing Mrs. Norman. “You told him to go out the back, not to make a fuss.”
Letitia changed the sentence, rephrased it so Mr. Norman wouldn’t be any more embarrassed than he already was, and at least now Mrs. Norman knew what had happened. She could guess for herself what exchanged between her husband and son.
“And… at-at the end?” Mrs. Norman asked through a series of tearful hiccups.
Letitia chose her words with care, wanting the Normans to go away at peace but warier of how to treat their other children.
“Joseph was relieved to pass on,” Letitia said, watching the father close his eyes in reprieve. “You were right, Mr. Norman, he wasn’t fine after the war, and he didn’t know how to make it better. This would not be the first time someone has come to me with a son or husband who was stolen by the war long after it ended. But Joseph saved many lives, he did dreadful things for those lives, but there are men who went home because of him. Not whole, but they went home.”
She let silence fill the space.
“But he never said,” Mr. Norman exclaimed. Letitia didn’t expand as he stared at her, fury and shame burning pink brands on his cheeks.
She let silence fill the space.
“But he never said,” Mr. Norman exclaimed. Letitia didn’t expand as he stared at her, fury and shame burning pink brands on his cheeks.
“He isn’t here,” Letitia said, “and he’s far better for it.”
Mrs. Norman clung to her husband, who was now wrapping an arm around her.
“I’d like a moment with my wife.”
“I cannot leave the room, Mr. Norman,” Letitia said, apology in every nuance of her words, “since what I have done today is difficult and leaves behind a residue.”
“We should leave, William,” Mrs. Norman said, composure returning as she rose with the help of her husband. “Thank you very much for your time, Ms. Hawking.”
“I hope I’ve brought you some level of closure,” Letitia said, coming to take Mrs. Norman’s outstretched hand and allowing a brief embrace before she pulled back, both arms on Mrs. Norman’s shoulders. “Now, go home, and when spring comes clean the guesthouse from top to bottom. There is nothing there than an echo of another victim of the Great War, and he does not reside there.”
Suffering, Mrs. Norman went to the door.
Mr. Norman was behind her, holding out his hand for Letitia’s, and like the incident with the policemen, there were folded notes in his hand. At least another twenty dollars.
Letitia stared down at them before lifting her eyes to see the desperate hope of Mr. Norman.
If she took them, he would close the matter, the last page of a book. That certainty was so stark in the lines of his face she didn’t need to open herself to se his personality. He was revolting enough as it was, and it left a sour taste in her mouth.
“Mr. Norman,” Letitia said, low enough for his ears alone. “You’ve paid me for my services already. And now you need never bring your family the shame of disowning your son.”
“You saw-” he stopped, hands clenching around the money. She met his gaze, and after a long moment, he was the first to break away.
Letitia went to the door where Mrs. Norman had put on her coat, and the pair left, Mrs. Norman the only one to look back for a final goodbye.
There was no sinister figure on the landing, and Letitia closed the door.
But something about the session was wrong.
Nothing too untoward occurred. It was smooth from beginning to end, except for one small anomaly.
Letitia went to the table and sat back in her chair, and instead of looking at the bowl, she tilted her head back to glance at the chandelier over the table. It had candles in some of its holders, placed to cast the right light on the mirror that hung from its center.
Round and twice the size of the scrying bowl, the mirror was suspended from three chains, making it secure and avoiding sway as much as possible. It was tilted at such an angle so that when Letitia looked into it, she saw the scrying bowl.
This was a different type of seeing. The bowl would drag her in and take her to the critical moments before death to experience it herself.
Letitia always found the exact cause before she sought a person’s end. Innocent and accidental deaths were easy – she’d take a few gentle moments to relate to loved ones without getting too close to the cause. Others were in sickness or injury, even the battlefield itself. She’d be with them until their death approached. Those who died at the hands of a murderer were no forewarned, or what little they saw came too late to Letitia. It was why she would not take murder cases. There were instances where the victim succumbed to shock before death or were even taken unaware. Delving into their fate when she wasn’t sure what was coming risked her dying with them.
Old Mother Borrows hadn’t wanted to talk about what happened if Letitia got that far. But then she hadn’t needed to tell Letitia. Her own expeirence had cut her to the bone, tore her soul to shreds, and left her a wreck. Old Mother Borrows was lucky to find enough sense within to repair.
When Letitia used the mirror, there were simply visions, the sensation akin to the images that played in her head as she read works of fiction or watched a silent film at the cinema. But like the bowl that could drag her into the death, so too was the mirror dangerous. She could become lost in reading…
The chair was her safety. She would fall to one side, or on the table, when she became too tired.
There was no such safeguard against the scrying bowl.
She read the scrying mirror.
It was far easier to slide into its vision, which reflected the remnants left in the scrying bowl of Letitia’s last visit. Though it was still distant to her, she knew what she thought.
Joseph’s death replayed in her mind, but this time she was only an observer, not lost in his emotion. She was a figure on the street, following him home, watching him fall over, remembering his subsequent pain. The humiliating scene at the front door was a thousand times worse at a distance without the alcohol or splitting pain to distract her from the horrible words of Mr. Norman. For a moment Letitia wished she could have made Mr. Norman squirm all the more, but it was a brief and selfish wish. His tirade abated when Mrs. Norman came looking to see who it was, and Mr. Norman shut the door without a backward glance.
Letitia studied the scene from across the street, but now she came closer to Joseph, not watching him but the shadows.
Nothing alerted her senses or was wrong about the situation, but she followed, fading into the guesthouse. Joseph stood in the center of the room, crying before falling to the floor and curling up into a ball against the cold and all the nightmares the world had given him.
Letitia knelt beside him, aware of what was coming and unable to stop it, but still she touched Joseph’s forehead with a cool hand.
A figure leaned over her.
She shrieked, slamming onto the floor as she came off her chair. Broken out of the vision, she stared around her ordinary session room. The shadow had disappeared, but there was no mistaking its presence.
The figure, while terrifying her, had a discernible difference from the one she’d seen behind Mr. Driscoll. In the world of visions, she would evade it’s form, even if the sense of dread was triggered by her own underlying fear. Unlike the being who’d glared over Mr. Driscoll’s shoulder, this figure had emanated no such ill intent within the vision of Joseph’s death.
But if a being of shadow haunted her session, then being anywhere near Mr. Driscoll could risk the very damage that left her body scarred and her mind on the edge of insanity.
No amount of money would bring Letitia willingly back there, not when she’d already experienced what lay beyond the veil.
Boo-graphy: Beginning a writing journey with an epic 21 book series, Ejay started her author career in 2014 and has taken on the ups and downs of self-publishing with her fantasy series The Last Prophecy since 2016. At the start of 2019, she put the series on the backburner to write Behind the Veil in 25 days, and signed a publishing contract for the gothic noir novel to independent publisher Literary Wanderlust. Behind the Veil is set for release on the October 1st 2021. She resumed self-publishing a scifi series, Queen of Spades, released across 2020 and 2021, as well as signing another contract with Literary Wanderlust for NA fantasy, Echo of the Evercry. Believing in more than one path to a career in publishing, Ejay pursues self-publishing alongside querying traditional publishers with multiple manuscripts.
Behind the Veil — Can she keep the secrets of her past to rescue a girl tormented by a ghost?
In 1920s Los Angeles, Letitia Hawking reads the veil between life and death. A scrying bowl allows her to experience the final moments of the deceased. She brings closure to grief-stricken war widows and mourning families. For Letitia, it is a penance. She knows no such peace.
For Alasdair Driscoll, it may be the only way to save his niece, Finola, from her growing night terrors. But when Letitia sees a shadowy figure attached to the household, it rouses old fears of her unspeakable past in England.
When a man comes to her about his missing daughter, the third girl to go missing in as many months, Letitia can’t help him when she can’t see who’s taken them.
As a darkness haunts Letitia’s vision, she may not be given a choice in helping the determined Mr Driscoll, or stop herself falling in love with him. But to do so risks a part of herself she locked away, and to release it may cost Letitia her sanity and her heart.
I am good, but not an angel. I do sin, but I am not the devil. I am just a small girl in a big world trying to find someone to love.”
–Marilyn Monroe
The crisp, clear sunlight was not her friend. Dayna Dalton winced at the bright light that squeezed in through the slats of the venetian blind. She reached over and gave the cord a hard tug, sending the pint-sized bathroom into near darkness. Behind her, the shower head dripped with a steady plop, plop that reminded her of the exposé she did on water torture in Guantanamo Bay that never got published. It was deemed too harsh to print.
The Bulwark Advance preferred her to write…fluffy pieces. She sneered thinking of the crap on her computer, the half-written article about the elusive Easter Bunny that awaited its final edit. She hung her head in shame, thinking of what her sorority sisters from Georgetown would feel if they knew where Dangerous Dayna Dalton had ended up. There’d be hell to pay in the form of eternal humiliation.
Dayna twisted the faucet, her freckled knuckle turning bone white from the effort. It was no use; the leak continued relentlessly, driving a hole in her throbbing head. Oh, that last round of shots was totally not necessary.
No matter how hard she wrenched the faucet, the dribble continued. She thought she should ask her guest to fix it before he left. He was a plumber, after all. She was sick of this place. Dayna peered at her reflection in the mirror. She was sick of her life.
Skip Benson’s bearlike yawn turned into a growl from the bedroom. “Dayna.” His voice grated on her nerves.
“Dayna rolled her kohl-smeared eyes.
“Dayna, come on back to bed.”
Dayna took a steadying breath and used both hands to grip the sink as if it were holding her up. What was she thinking last night? Skip Benson? How low could she go? A shudder ran through her lithe frame. That left only Trout Parker, and she could now report she had officially and irrevocably scraped the bottom of the barrel of Bulwark, Georgia.
She rubbed her forehead where a hammer banged against the inside of her skull.
Skip wailed for her to return to the warmth of the bed. Dayna wrinkled her nose, thinking about Skip’s performance, or rather what she remembered about it. Oh yeah, too many tequila shots will make anyone desirable, even stupid Skippy Benson.
She ran her fuzzy tongue over her dry teeth, fighting the urge to gag.
“Skip Benson had never been on the football team, the basketball team… Hell, he’d never even made the chess team. He had been the school screw-up, and now he could brag that he and Dayna had…
Dayna turned away from the mirror with disgust, her cheeks flushing. She staggered to the doorway of the bedroom. Using the frame to hold herself erect, she shouted, “Get up!”
“Wha–?” Skip rose, the comforter bunched at his flabby waist, his chest bare and the pathetic tattoo of a red devil across the front of his right bicep.
Vague memories of kissing that image flitted through her foggy brain. Dayna picked up a pillow discarded on the floor during their frenzied arrival and threw it at his head.
“I said, get up and get out of here!”
Skip ducked, then slid off the bed, his behind exposed, another image of a werewolf on his left butt cheek. Dayna convulsed a hazy memory of talking to that tattoo.
“You weren’t so eager to get rid of me last night.” Skip stood in all his naked glory, which wasn’t much.
“Ugh. I’m never drinking again,” Dayna muttered under her breath. “I said get dressed and get out of here.” A shoe sailed past Skip’s head.
Her unwanted guest scrambled to find his clothes. “Hey, cut it out, Dayna!” Skip was living up to his namesake as he struggled into his work pants, bouncing toward the door.
Dayna’s face split into a demonic smile that was known to strike fear in the hearts of single men everywhere. Here, she thought, was the elusive Easter Bunny. She watched Skip hop toward his escape as though he were in the Fourth of July potato sack race.
Dayna picked up a shirt that had been discarded on the floor and threw it at him. The garment appeared to have a life of its own and engulfed his head. Skip’s muffled cries were nearly smothered by the material. His hands tore at the shirt to no avail.
His fingers—Dayna looked closer, grimacing at the dirt under his nails, and watched his wrestling match with the clothing. She pushed him into her shabby living room, then out the door of her condo. Mrs. Sweetpea, an antonym for sure, watched in revulsion as Dayna shoved her guest out of her apartment.
Dayna lived in Shady Oaks, a rundown condominium community, where she reluctantly shared a front porch with her neighbor. The building was a connected row of apartments that bordered undeveloped land, as though a builder had left the project unfinished halfway through. It was hot real estate when they released the first phase, and half the town bought investment properties. Then the real estate bubble burst, and the whole thing came tumbling down.”
“Dayna had an inside scoop about what was really going on, but once again, the paper wouldn’t print it. The mayor had sold the land and gotten a back-end deal for it. He made a ton of dough and then skipped off to Colombia—the country, not Columbia, South Carolina. The builder had used inferior products, and once he went to jail for money laundering, the whole place went to seed. There was no one to call when things broke.
Dayna cast Mrs. Sweetpea a jaundiced eye, daring the nosy neighbor to say something about her guest. While the old crone might have appeared to be like the proverbial sweet grandmotherly type, Dayna knew her to be an ornery bitch with a sting as sharp as an angry wasp.
She hated her; had for years. Thelma Sweetpea had been her babysitter back in the day when she was a small child. Dayna’s mother had dropped her off at the old lady’s house for the first nine years of her life.
Dayna looked at Mrs. Sweetpea and shivered. The old woman had moved into the complex a year and a half ago, cutting up Dayna’s peace. What were the odds they’d end up living next door to each other? She was a mean old woman, and Dayna felt judged every time those beady eyes settled on her.
Dayna considered moving but was so underwater with her mortgage, she couldn’t think of selling. She was stuck at Shady Oaks, and she was stuck with the prying eyes of Thelma Sweetpea.
Mrs. Thelma Sweetpea took out her aggression with a broom and started to sweep as though the hounds of hell had just taken a shit there. Dayna fought the urge to say something. Speaking with Mrs. Sweetpea usually ended up in a hissing contest. Dayna’s compressed lips turned up just a bit with a smile at the result of this morning meeting. Mrs. Sweetpea was in a frenzy of spring cleaning, as if she could wipe the interlopers from reality.”
“The sky was overcast, and even though it was springtime, the air was decidedly chilly. A wave of cold air stole under Dayna’s shirt, making it billow out. She tried not to shiver. Her bare feet felt the shock of the freezing concrete. She’d be damned if she would show that old biddy any weakness, even if it was unseasonably cold.
Dayna looked up at the watery sky, searching for a glimpse of the sun. Global warming was playing havoc with Georgia’s weather. Either it was extremely hot when it was supposed to be cold or freezing when the time of year dictated heat. It didn’t rain anymore; it stormed with funnel clouds that touched down, ripping homes and trailers from their moorings.
Mrs. Sweetpea stopped her sweeping to look at Dayna, her lips pursed as if she’d eaten something sour. Dayna returned the stare, her eyes observing the wrinkled face, watching the older woman judge her half-naked form.
“Dayna’s freckled shoulder peeked out from an oversized tee shirt. It was paired with her long, bare, coltish legs underneath. Dayna looked down and cursed when she realized she was wearing Skip’s tee. Glancing up, she realized he was struggling with her shirt from last night. Watching her neighbor’s shocked face, Dayna ripped Skip’s shirt over her head and tossed it to him. He paused in his scuffle with her clothing to admire her perfect breasts.
“I don’t have to leave,” Skip said with a broad smile.
“Oh yes you do, and don’t come back here.” Dayna turned around, her shoulders straight. She paused to look at the older woman, who stood with her jaw hanging in shock.
“Have you no shame?” Thelma Sweetpea sputtered.
Dayna looked back at the gawking plumber, then her scandalized neighbor. She shrugged indifferently. “Apparently I have no shame at all.”
Boo-graphy: Brit Lunden is a prolific author who’s written over 50 books in assorted genres under different pen names. Bulwark was her first effort in adult fiction and was chosen by several of her fellow authors as the basis for a new series, A Bulwark Anthology. Using her characters, they are creating new denizens in spin-off stories to this bizarre town. Brit Lunden lives on Long Island in a house full of helpful ghosts.
Bulwark Anthology .5: Bulwark — Clay Finnes is the sheriff of a small town in Georgia called Bulwark. Recently separated from his wife, all he can think about is what went wrong, and will Jenna ever come back to him. He’s troubled by a bothersome reporter trying to build a story from what he thinks is a normal day in his life. Clay has to admit that the fantastical stories, told by an accident victim as well as unusual sightings of wolves, things are getting a bit strange. A visit to the ominous Gingerbread House makes him realize that his life as he knows it will never be the same.
Bulwark Anthology 1: The Knowing — Bulwark- a wall or stockade that protects or sometimes hides the truth from the outside world.
Bulwark, Georgia, isolated, hidden. Who knows what strange things can happen when the rest of the world can’t see you? JB Stratton is alone in the world, and all he has left are the memories of his beloved Ellie. Dirt poor JB and wealthy Ellie feel an instant connection that is as intense and primal as the blood red earth of their home. Unseen roots connect them, pulling them into an impossible relationship. Will the memories of past lives help or hinder the path of their love? Based on the original novella Bulwark, by Brit Lunden, The Knowing continues the story of a town isolated from the rest of the world where the impossible becomes plausible, and logic is determined by reality.
Bulwark Anthology 9: The Devil & Dayna Dalton — Reporter Dayna Dalton’s reputation has been ruined since birth. The daughter of wild child, Becky Dalton, is expected to follow her mother’s footsteps; never given a chance to prove she’s different. Dayna’s been in love with Clay Finnes since she was a teenager. Her unrequited love for Sheriff Finnes leaves her empty. He’s happily married and unavailable. Instead, Dayna finds herself stuck in the revolving door of bad relationships. But this is Bulwark, Georgia, a town where strange things are always happening. Dayna is doomed to this loveless life until she can find someone who will appreciate the depth of her character. Can she overcome her fears and look beyond her own perceptions to accept a greater love?
The cold fall air blew over Terra’s face and through her long, curly, black hair. It was the night before Halloween and Terra’s mind drifted away. She was on one of her late night strolls through the local graveyard. Sitting on a grassy mound she watched the blood moon turn slightly red. This part of Chicago was peaceful and restful. No city to disturb anyone.
Fall leaves blew and circled her a few times then left. Her black lips glistened as she smiled at the night. The reddish moon interested her and she wanted to know more. Why was Samhain so interesting? She didn’t know anything about it, but wanted to. She would start by studying the moon. The night was spent reading a book about it and the fall solstice. It was 1979 and little did she know Halloween had approached at midnight. Heading back home she began to feel alone. Going out at night made her feel lonely. Bride did not know anyone. Her new name was Johnston, but she was not married to that new monster she made long before he was destroyed for being evil. She reflected on her living time with him sometimes. She wanted to meet people. As the sun gave a hint of sunlight it was time to sleep at home and she wondered if Frankenstein would ever come back to claim her? Probably not.
On Halloween night Terra sat quietly in her room. Creepy cackling and bubbling could be heard, then footsteps. She went outside and saw nothing. The full moon lit the area well. Curiously she headed to the graveyard and sat on a large tombstone. Crickets chirped and fireflies flew, but that was all. It was time to go past the graveyard. Walking near a road she heard voices. Two young men were chatting and a little drunk because they were coming from a Halloween costume party. One was dressed as a vampire with teeth, dark slick hair, pale skin, and a dark cape. The other, his close friend, was Frankenstein. They looked very good. Tall and dark.
Bride approached them.
“It’s back that way,” Frankenstein said pointing in the direction of the party.
“I don’t need that info from you any more,” Terra said to what she thought was her ex. She walked over to the vampire and put her arm through his. “What part of this country are you from?”
“South of Chicago,” the vampire replied.
“I’m Terra. I’m the bride of Frankenstein, or was. Care to get a drink?” she asked the vampire.
“Why not.” The phony vampire’s teeth sparkled. He winked at Frankenstein. “I’m Dracula,” he said to her with a Transylvania accent. He looked so handsome in the dark. Terra didn’t look so bad herself.
“I’ll see ya later,” Dracula said to Frankenstein. They were off to have a romantic drink.
After the drink it was time to say goodnight. “Can we do it again some time?” she asked.
“Yes,” the vampire said. “I’ll come by and get you this Friday evening. We’ll have a candle lit dinner at my house.”
“That sounds lovely! Alright.”
He began walking her home. “Don’t hate my friend Frankenstein. He can be nice.” “I know. I was engaged to him once. Didn’t know him well. You I’d like to get to know.” “I will see you then.” He kissed her on the cheek and left her sight.
“I’m going to go out with this girl again. I like her, but I drank too much last time,” Dracula said to Frankenstein with a stomach ache.
“Just don’t let her find out your not a vampire. Why does she believe we are monsters?”
“I don’t know. Good costumes,” he said shrugging.
“Watch her. I think she’s weird.”
“Pretty, but weird. She won’t find out. I’ll only come out at night,” the vampire swore. “How is it you’re not hung over?”
“I hold my liquor,” the green one answered and they both laughed.
“I need to prepare for our Friday dinner. Do you know where I can get a hearse and a coffin? And I want to shop at one of those Halloween stores. They are probably having clearance sales now.”
“I know a company. I’ll ask if we can borrow or rent,” Frankenstein said hatefully. “How long can this go on for?”
“I don’t know. When it gets tired I’ll wait until she loves me and cares for me too much to get mad. Then I’ll tell her.”
Boo-graphy: Martha has studied writing with Writer’s Digest and has an associates degree in Social Behavioral Science. She has also written poems and songs and even studied screenwriting and horror. She still practices writing and likes getting writing prompts. Her favorite author is V.C. Andrews.
Terra’s love life is a monster so she sets out to see her old flame Nathaniel Johnston. But when she finds he is no longer living either, eternity is theirs. Bringing him back will get her a husband because of her passionate feelings for him.
Johnston is her new life, but when they are on their honeymoon in Germany things take a bad turn. The castle they stay in creates too much distance between the two.
Can she get closer to him before it’s too late?
Love On All Hallows Eve – On All Hallows Eve Terra meets Bobby. He pretends to be a real vampire to her and they start dating. When they find out, Bobby and his friend, she is the undead bride of Frankenstein they have a violent breakup. After when Terra is haunted she gets the help of psychic Rose. The hardest part is for Terra to let go of the machine that brought her and Frankenstein to life.
A Curse Beyond Comprehension. A Power Beyond Belief. A Girl Far From Home.Katie Liberman is your typical eighteen-year-old college student…or at least that’s what her family thinks. Picking up five years after the events of A Taste of Home, Katie has dropped out of school and embarked upon a dangerous quest to find Kurt Jimmerson, the New York City attorney responsible for her family’s werewolf curse. Unknown to her, the attorney’s grip on the ‘City That Never Sleeps’ is tighter than imagined and she’ll need any and all help available to be victorious. But… where do you find friends when you’re Far From Home?
The bitter cold swirled around the young girl as the reflection of a billion lights glistened on the newly fallen snow. Since her arrival, Katie could only recall a few minutes here and there where there wasn’t some type of frozen precipitation pelting her from all directions. She was slowly getting used to it. Tonight, none of it seemed to matter much. It affected the mission in no way whatsoever. Besides, with her face covered in a light fur, it rarely touched the skin enough to make her aware.
The events of the previous evening had sent her reeling to the point she knew it was time to move on to the next level of the plan. As the day progressed, Katie had gotten little sleep due to the returning blurred memories of a sweaty night involving her new-found friend. Every time she closed her eyes, visions of
the beautiful, odd, young lady beckoned her to hastily conclude. Was this the most disgusting thing that ever happened to her or an experience altering her young life forever? Shaking the haunting visions from her head, along with the accumulated snow on her cheeks, Katie knew now was not the time to think of such things. Revenge and survival were to come first and they were jockeying for position of importance. Regardless of consequence, they were equals.
Her first stop of the evening had unfortunately been the Central Park Zoo. Animalistic hunger finally caused Katie to succumb to the unthinkable. In the early morning hours, subscribers to the local media would be slapped with news regarding the discovery of a slaughtered deer inside of its enclosure. She hated it, but the acts ranking would’ve been nothing compared to that of an uncontrolled transformation and similar treatment of an unsuspecting, innocent human being. It’s not like Manhattan could offer the comforts of home where Katie could just easily walk out the back door and run off into the woods. Necessity was a bitch.
The second stop of the evening had been to Saint Patrick’s Church to speak with Father McCormack again. With all destined to ensue, she wanted to make absolutely sure her soul was clean enough to endure her final moments with confidence and acceptance. Shockingly, he giggled at the misfortunes of the previous night and sent her away with his blessings. As a ghost, it wasn’t the first unexpected lesbian experience confession he’d bore witness to regardless of whether the poor soul offering up the confession knew he was even there and listening. Ultimately, it was the excessive drinking he’d had a problem with and offered up an ‘everything in moderation’ speech which sounded much rehearsed. The priest had become a good ally and an important part of her life. She hoped he’d be a shoe-in reference to the afterlife if things turned increasingly bad.
Finally, she’d stopped by her apartment to coax her mother into attending the night’s stake out. Sneaking around the normal people of this world undetected had become sort of a hobby for Katie, but werewolves were different. Only having to deal with one of them in anger before, she wasn’t aware of how easy or difficult this was going to be. For a fact, she knew all too well how easily she picked up on scents. Katie had also never been successful in sneaking up on her father after he had the curse bestowed upon him. This was a saddening part of her life. Gone were the days of creeping up to him in the shower to flush the toilet or cover him with a tall glass of frigid water. Toby’s senses were way more in tune than hers. More than likely due to age, she guessed. Unfortunately, someone had forgotten to include the handbook with the starter package when delivered. Jessica, as a spirit, would have a lot more luck sneaking amongst the unknown. She was a perfect scout for an imperfect situation. Although she’d never tell her, this was one of the main reasons Katie had brought her along to begin with. It was nice to have company from time to time who wasn’t going to wake up naked next to you with fuzzy thoughts about how it happened.
Following a set of familiar tracks around the Central Park lake, she now sat motionless and quiet in the tallest tree she could find a hundred yards from the entrance of Belvedere Castle. In the distance, children’s voices and laughter carried on the wind from the ice skating rink and Christmas tree lighting ceremony at Rockefeller Center. Unbeknownst to them all as they played carelessly, monsters of the night once thought to be imaginary figments in the minds of Hollywood writers lurked at the edge of the tree line of the darkened park in hopes they would come join them in eternity. If they only knew of the nightmarish fate awaiting them all upon the misfortunes of a nocturnal visit to Central Park. Other than the criminal element, they’d build a ten-foot-tall fence for their own safety. In the end, it was the criminal element who kept them all at bay and they knew nothing of the bloody myth that lay beyond the mental edge of their reasoning. To be young and uninformed was a luxury which no longer belonged to Katie Liberman. She was one of the monsters.
Jessica had been gone for nearly an hour with no sign of return. With little argument, she’d followed the
trail allowing her daughter to assume a more secluded position within the foliage. Ignoring her father’s teachings he’d passed along via the information from Jimmerson, Katie knew all too well any passing werewolf would be able to spot the ghost from a mile away. Jessica had gone invisible, which meant she could actually be sitting beside Katie on the tree branch at this very second. Katie knew there was no way possible her mother could’ve kept her mouth shut long enough to stay hidden for long. Would a passing pack of those like her just pass Jessica off as a random, wandering spirit? Did her mother even possess the stealth to talk her way out of a jam if she were to be discovered? It was a definite chance Katie was taking for sure! Detecting a cold spot in the weather of the evening was a useless gesture. As a matter of fact, with the time that passed in her absence, the once fresh trail leading to the castle had been long covered up by the celestial snowfall. This was going to make things difficult.
Willow mentioned Kurt Jimmerson was interested in the restoration of Belvedere Castle for quite some time, but Katie’s observation gave no signs anyone was there on this night. Research said nothing other than the fact it had been a museum and a weather station in its prime. Its beauty and grandeur was a heavily visited attraction during the hours of daylight. It was even used as a set piece in a few movies. Katie could guess of Jimerson’s obsession for restoration with this in mind. History and tradition seemed to mean more to those with wealth for some reason plus, being a well-known philanthropist would throw off the dogs or gain him sympathy with the media and public if ever his intentions were to be questioned. She couldn’t wait to meet him. For all Katie knew, she already had. She couldn’t wait to kill him. Sheriff Werewolf back home and his odd daughter would be making a return trip to normalcy when she did.
Seeing all was clear with the passing time, Katie closed her eyes in deep meditation. Her unusual abundance of hair began to retract into her body to reveal the image of a young girl once more. Claws returned to nails as a slight tingle of pain twitched throughout her fingertips and she could feel the itch of retracting skin on her ears as they rounded. She’d eventually grown to ignore the pain that went along with a slow transformation. It was the sudden, emotion fueled ones which were still excruciating. Nothing compared to the searing fire that accompanied the very first one that night in the Myrtle County Fairgrounds. Would she miss it when her power was gone? It wasn’t like it made her feel special or cherished among those around her because, unlike her father, she wasn’t allowed to reveal herself to anyone. Repeated reflection upon his reasoning had told her time and again it was indeed the proper thing to do when it came to the general public. Katie obeyed without interrogation. Sure, it was good for the tiny population of Twin Oaks, who couldn’t keep a secret if their lives depended on it, but in a city the size of New York? Katie could easily become a comic book worthy super hero the likes of which had never been experienced in reality. The fear that usually accompanied the unknown easily squashed the delusion quickly. For now, she was Katie Liberman, abused puppy extraordinaire, and it would have to suffice.
The crack of a crashing tree branch under the weight of the accumulating snow startled Katie back into her ‘on guard’ state but it all too soon returned to quiet. Since the werewolf’s hair was no longer a luxury to her body in human form, the cold seemed to sneak up on her suddenly. Pulling the hood from her sweatshirt over her wind-blown hair and giving the drawstrings a hard tug, Katie shut out the intruder swiftly. Sniffing the air around her, she detected no hint of anything unusual anywhere nearby. The constant noise of the city around her masked any hopes of catching approaching foot traffic.
“Damn,” she said aloud as she shuffled her butt along the tree limb for a more comfortable seat “Now I’m just bored!”
This was not the adventure Katie was promised in her mind’s brochure when she agreed to endure the burden of this trip.
“Katie…” came the soft voice attempting to remain stealthy. “Katie…” came the whisper again. “Kathryn Liberman!” came Jessica’s voice booming directly in the young girl’s ear.
Startled awake from sleep brought on by severe discomfort, Katie flailed her arms in an attempt to regain her balance. Nearly falling from her high perch, the young girl glared at her mother disapprovingly with fire in her eyes.
“Damn you, Mom, I told you to keep it down!” she scolded “I’m trying not to give us away!”
“Oh pipe down,” Jessica replied “Nobody but you has been able to hear a word I’ve said in five years! There’s no need to get all snippy!”
Katie grinned slightly with her head bowed in anger. Sometimes, she thought her mother didn’t completely understand the severity of her situation. The slightest miscalculation could end up in tragedy. Why would she? Jessica was already dead and had absolutely nothing to lose.
“You just don’t get it, do you?” Katie continued while brushing the snow from her sweatshirt “The people I’m looking for CAN hear you…maybe. I’m not sure. Anyway, there is a possibility they can hear you and I don’t want to take any risks. From now on, pretend as though they can hear you!”
“Look,” Jessica attempted to retort “You were the one asleep on the job while I’ve been out in the snow looking at footprints for an hour! You’re the one not taking this seriously!”
It was at this point Katie Liberman stopped caring about stealth.
“I’m not taking this seriously?” she stood in anger attempting to keep her balance on the frozen limb “Right now, I have a faceless nemesis who could be ten feet away from me or in the same room at any given time… and I’d never know it! I know he is my nemesis because I never think much about his demise or what he has planned for my ending if he were to ever get the upper hand. I often daydream about the battle, though. If this doesn’t qualify for the title of ‘arch enemy’, I don’t know what does. I’m not taking this seriously? Comic book heroes don’t have shit on me right now, Mom!”
The stinging cold burned her throat as Katie attempted to catch her breath from the argument as the winter steam escaped from flaring nostrils. She’d been trying to keep it together the best she could over the last few days but now it seemed as though the breaking point was in sight. So far, the only two good things that happened to her were soul preparation from a holy apparition and possible soul destruction from a bi-sexual Irish girl who may or may not be the new, proud owner of her virginity. Using those two examples on a sliding scale, the goodness factor was exactly where it started when she first reached New York. She’d gotten nowhere and she was getting desperate.
“Look,” Katie started again to remain calm “I’m not going back empty handed, Mother. I’m either going to be successful in killing this Kurt Jimmerson guy or I’m going to die in the process. I’ve just about blown every bit of money set back for my first year of college to get here, eat, and survive. I’m lying to the people who gave me the money by not telling them where I’m at. I’m too damn old to get grounded but Dad will damn sure try to make life difficult if I have to go back home and live under his roof, especially after he finds out what I’ve done. Most importantly, I refuse to spend the rest of my life cursed as a werewolf. I want to live like a normal girl, work a normal job, marry a normal guy, and have normal
babies. I’m never going to have any of those things if I don’t put a stop to it here and now. If I die trying, so be it. I’m no better off…”
“Oh, listen to yourself,” Jessica came at her “I’m Katie Liberman and I’m a werewolf! I’m Katie Liberman and I’m miserable! I’m Katie Liberman and I’ve got problems!”
Jessica’s mocking was beginning to anger Katie and she could feel the tingle of separating flesh around her fingernails. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to shut a ghost up.
Jessica’s rant continued.
“Regardless of how you may have to live out the rest of your days, at least you’re still alive. That is something I can’t say and will never be able to say again! I miss being able to touch people or speak with random strangers! I miss the taste of food and the smell of flowers! I’d give anything for a freaking cigarette right about now! You’ve got some kind of weird death wish ‘thing’ going on and don’t care if tomorrow ever comes. Baby, you don’t want this. You don’t want to exist this way. At least with the ‘family curse’ as you call it, you have choices in the matter. I have no choices left. My soul is scraping the bottom of the barrel and I’m not even sure how much longer I’ll be attached to this world. One day I’m not going to be able to jump to you when you need me. One day I’ll be gone for good. Your rule book can still be written. You can make yours up as you go. My pen ran out a long time ago.”
Katie couldn’t argue with the points her mother was making. Jessica was right. In the end, it all came down to personal choices on where she wanted her life to go and how she wanted to live it. There were ways around the werewolf issue. It was just going to make things a lot more difficult. She felt sorry for Jessica and everything she’d been through over the years but it was her fault. Most things wrong with Katie and the bad things that happened to the other people she loved were because of Jessica’s actions. With that, Jessica wasn’t going to be able to opt out of the conversation at hand easily. She wasn’t going to be able to play the sympathy card or gain victory in a mother and daughter disagreement. In life or death, Katie had to win. There was no way she was going to give up an ‘I told you so’ in this or reveal the epiphany of a life lesson to her mother’s satisfaction. Something had to be said to stop the direction of the talk. Something had to be said in order to slam dunk the point in a way her mother would treat her like an adult with her own agenda. Something had to be said to shut her up for good.
“Mom,” Katie sang sweetly “I lost my virginity to a lesbian last night!”
Game point.
The awkward silence was broken by the rush of rapid footsteps in the snow below. Jumping to the ground quickly, Katie inspected them closely to reveal they indeed didn’t belong to humans. The shoe prints were too far apart for a normal stride and the clawed handprint in every other indention was a dead giveaway. This was it! There was no time to finish the conversation.
“Mom, get back to the apartment and wait for me!” Jessica flinched, still in shock from the previous statement. “You had sex with a lesbian?”
Before Katie could even tell her to shut up, the ability to use her human voice disappeared and the painfully quick cracking of her tiny bones echoed through the nearby trees. She pursued the pack of fleeing werewolves with determination.
Dodging in and out of the coming trees, Katie flung fallen snow in all directions beneath her feet. The tracks were becoming much sloppier meaning they were now moving quicker than before. Either the pack knew someone was following them or they were getting in a bigger hurry to reach their destination. From what she could tell, there were four of them. Three sets of tracks were all that could be seen by the untrained eye but the middle set was much larger than the ones on the sides. It had been stepped through by the one following making it only look like three. With one in the lead and three following, it was a definite sign there was a leader present in the group. If it were truly the case, he’d be the worst to deal with and the first one she’d have to take out. Once accomplished, the other three would attack in unison or flee in fear of not having a leader anymore. It was a gamble but a gamble she’d have to take.
Slowing her pace, she noticed the prints had gotten closer together. Now, only shoe prints were visible because they’d returned to their human form and walked upright. Doing the same, Katie stood as tall as she could. She looked in all directions to see any sign of their presence. Slightly ahead of her in the distance, she recognized a large green set of shrubs which had no snow covering them amongst the white background. They’d been cleared. As she guessed, the shoe marks led directly to them. Katie snuck through the bushes quietly as they revealed a hillside clearing. Her targets gathered below.
Standing in a diamond formation around a park bench, four average looking young men surrounded what looked to be a fifth. Whoever this other person was, they showed no signs of fear or even any realization to the presence of the others. Either they were sleeping deeply or Katie had arrived too late. Patiently, she awaited the next clue looking down on the events about to unfold.
The four creatures of the night moved closer while remaining cautious of their surroundings. All of them seemed to be dressed the same with flannel jackets and torn blue jeans as though a clothing purchase hadn’t been part of their recent activities. Their long, straight hair showed darkness against the pure, white surroundings of the fallen snow. This was a pack like she’d imagined. They could’ve easily passed for quadruplets which was what had more than likely brought them together in the first place. They were moving toward the odd person out like a well-rehearsed team. It was as though they’d been through this ritual a million times before. Katie was starting to get nervous.
Just then, the person on the park bench came to their senses and screamed out in sudden terror. It was a woman! A homeless woman who’d been covered against the snow by newspapers and a tattered blanket now clung to the armrest of the park bench for dear life looking on to the approaching reapers in fear. It was a victim no one would miss, more than likely. This was it. This was how the packs in Central Park survived. Katie was sickened instantly at the realization about to take place.
In the grand scheme of things, this had little to do with the mission. She hadn’t come all this way to be the savior of homeless people. Katie came to kill werewolves. The dilemma banged around in her head until she could almost feel soreness against her temples. This wasn’t her normal line of thinking. No, this was the way of her father and his quest to defeat all forces of evil. Those that surrounded their home at any cost to keep his people safe and sound. Why was this happening? Why at this crucial moment of reckoning was Katie pausing in her efforts? Was her mother right? Was the family curse a gift in disguise? What if she did decide to live with this and use it to help others? What if it was fate?
Shaking her head violently, Katie removed the visions from her head and focused again on her prey. If she waited for them to attack, she could surprise them while they were feeding. But…if she could somehow delay their advance and give the outnumbered woman a chance to escape…
What would Toby Liberman do? What would Kurt Jimmerson do? What would Father McCormack do?
Giving into her final question, she exhaled deeply in disappointment.
Being a girl who never really cared much about the masses or how they perceived her, Katie was hesitant. The last few years, when she should’ve been socializing with other’s her age, she’d pretty much spent all her time caught up in her own little secret world held prisoner in her room for fear of how the public would react. Why would now be any different? Why protect those who would fear or harm her if they got the chance?
Walking up slowly behind the closest member of the greasy pack of men, the soon-to-be victim was the first to catch on to her presence. The homeless lady mouthed two tiny words through frozen lips that made Katie’s blood boil. ‘Help me’. Nodding silently in agreement, the would-be hero pulled the hood from her sweatshirt tight over her head to hide her face. It was time for the festivities to get underway once and for all. She cleared her throat aloud causing all four men to look her way in excitement.
“Don’t mind me, boys. I’m just here to watch the show,” she announced sarcastically “Proceed.”
Fanning out in a straight line in front of their victim as though they were protecting a meal from a stray dog, the leader stepped forward to confront the unexpected challenger.
“Leg it, you manky bitch! This doesn’t even concern you!” the leader spoke with a harsh Irish accent.
Giggling at the curse thrown her way, she began to pace back in forth in front of them in a gesture of taunt. Katie showed no fear. Her body was electric.
“Leg it, you manky bitch?” she inquired “I’ve only been in town for a handful of days and, so far, everyone I’ve met has either been Irish or fell asleep watching ‘Darby O’Gill and the Little People’ too many times.”
“Well then feel free to bugger off, young one, before you find out all too fast what thickness will get you in the wee hours here!”
“Hmm,” she mocked, still pacing “Well there lies the dilemma, boys. I’m all kinds of interested in what my thickness will get me in the wee hours in this city while facing down four leftovers from a 1992 Seattle grunge experiment… so I don’t think I’ll be buggering off anytime soon.”
Shocked at her defiance, the three followers looked on at their designated spokesman in confusion as though they’d never encountered anyone with the nerves to stand up to them. To Katie, this was pure gold. It meant they had little fighting experience underneath their belts and were used to overtaking their adversaries without much resistance.
“What?” she continued the taunting “You’re not scared of a little girl in a hoodie are you?”
Again, the other three looked at their leader for the answer he was obviously having trouble formulating. Finally, he managed to open his mouth.
“Not counting this morsel behind us, lass, I would say you were outnumbered four to one in a place where no one is going to come to your rescue. Why don’t you just go about your business before you get a bad dose of what we’re offering? Run off to your mama before you get grounded for being out past your bedtime?”
The four of them simultaneously broke out into hysterical laughter at the joke fired at Katie’s expense. Just for the sake of joining in, Katie began to laugh as well slapping her knee in delight at the fact a fight
was looming on the horizon. Finally, her chuckling ended and she glared at them seriously. Planting both feet firmly on the ground to prepare for a charge in their direction, she readied herself for the confrontation.
“What do you mean ‘the morsel behind you’?” she asked, “That bitch ‘buggered off’ just as soon as all of you started laughing. I guess she wasn’t a fan and didn’t care to hear the rest of your act.”
The four of them suddenly quieted their jesting and looked around at each other in confusion. The young stranger wasn’t lying at all. In the distraction, the unfortunate drifter had taken the first chance and ran for her life in an unknown direction. Katie could almost feel the sudden anger in the air as the four lined up facing her. These were definitely bottom of the barrel henchmen for a much bigger organization because they were far from being the brightest individuals imaginable. If packs were running unnoticed in a city this size, more intelligent people were calling the shots. Stepping forward from his cohorts again, the elected leader glared at her with eyes aflame.
“You stupid-ass hoor!” he cried in disgust “That piece of slime was ours fair and square and now we’re going to have to take down your scrawny bones instead!”
Fanning out again in a formation to encircle her, Katie knew she indeed had the upper hand. Not only did they not know what they were about to be dealing with, they were unaware their target was well informed of what they were. She’d been waiting for this moment for as far back as she could remember. It was as though a five-year addiction was about to be fed for the first time in ages. Katie remained calm and studied their movement for the precise moment to reveal all. Slowly, the three underlings sprouted their fangs and began to growl ferociously as they circled. A deep feeling of satisfaction came over her and she grinned in excitement. Katie had found her happy place again.
“Oh please, mister,” she mocked “Please don’t sick your puppy dog men on me! I promise I’ll be a good girl!”
“Keep cracking on, little one,” the man dared as he continued to circle with his minions “You’re only going to make things worse on yourself.”
Lowering her head even more and spreading her legs in a defensive posture, she locked eyes with the leader as his face covered itself in a fine, black fur. It was time to move.
“Oh, you think this situation is bad?” she asked sarcastically “Mister, you haven’t seen anything yet!”
As though a bolt of lightning had struck in the middle of the circle, Katie’s alter ego came to life with a deafening howl. Reacting in both shock and pain from the ear-piercing sound, the four of them focused on the spot it originated. It was already too late. The young wolf attached herself onto the neck of the closest adversary and ripped his flesh in a shower of blood with undiscovered strength. He fell to the snow with a deadly thud, lifeless. Readying herself for the inevitable attack of the other three, she spun around to face them with glowing eyes against the darkness of the night sky.
With their defensive formation broken, the other two followers lunged in unison as the leader watched on curiously. Their attack came suddenly from both sides as they attempted to overpower her. Taking a quick step backwards, Katie gripped their flowing hair with her clawed hands and slammed their faces together in a crimson explosion. Katie slashed their bodies with frantic precision as she spun to her knees. As they fell unconscious to the ground beside her, Katie sprang forward like an armed swordsman tearing their skin from bone to reveal the pink of their internal organs. The young wolf flung her arms in a ready
manner sprinkling the pure, white surroundings with fresh blood. She locked eyes once again on the only target that remained. In a gaze of what could only be interpreted as panic, he fled.
Katie followed, flying quickly on all fours through the trees and brush of the abandoned park. Leaping gracefully into the nearest set of trees, she listened closely for any signs of movement that would give away the presence of the fleeing monster. She concentrated on the various noises surrounding her with eyes closed. The sounds of laughing children and a thousand passing cars engulfed her senses as though she were standing among them. Blocking them out to the best of her ability, she focused on the direction of the castle on the lake near where she’d left her mother’s side. Momentarily, she picked up on the rustle of underbrush heading away from her current location. Katie jumped and judged the closest tree for strength. She landed with ease, sinking her blood-stained claws deep into the bark. Eyeing others in the area, she made another move…and then another as though she was scouring the woods of Twin Oaks again in search of prey. Was this any different? Smiling from pointed ear to pointed ear, she moved on into the night.
The falling snow had stopped long ago. Due to the circumstances, she’d barely noticed the calm which had taken over her surroundings below the glistening moonlight. She descended from her arboreal perch and landed softly on her feet in a mound of deep accumulation. Fresh, sloppy footprints of an individual running for dear life lay before her. Slowly, she hunkered down again to follow the trail and prepared for any type of trap the desperate man may have lying in wait. She was ready.
Staying to the thick foliage that lined the sidewalk of the park, Katie paused to gain clues to her surroundings. He was near. Heightened and uncontrollable breathing could be heard on the wind from the direction of the frozen lake that normally licked the walls of Belvedere Castle. Sneaking to the shore, a dark figure could be seen scooting carefully along the icy surface of the lake to throw off anyone or anything who would prevent his escape. Standing tall amongst the winter dead reeds which lined the banks of the lake, Katie withdrew her disguise.
“Hey!” she shouted “Where in the fuck do you think you’re going? You were going to teach me a lesson, remember?”
Realizing he was no longer alone and in definite peril, the long haired man quickened his pace in panic. He’d changed into human form from no longer being able to concentrate on his transformation. With an echoing smack against the ice, he lost his balance as his feet were taken out from under him. He laid motionless in agonizing pain and glanced at the approaching girl as she drew ever closer. Katie paused. She was going to draw this out as long as she possibly could to build the fear within. It would make for an easier kill.
“Ouch!” Katie exclaimed humorously “I guess it would explain why you have to eat homeless people in the park at night. The tryout for the all Irish hockey team didn’t work out too well for you, huh?”
“Stay the hell away from me, you gammy bitch!” he screamed as he began to crawl closer to the opposite shore “I’m not slagging!”
The young Texan couldn’t wrap her head around all the slang and wondered how these guys ever made it long in an intelligent conversation. Then again, it would probably explain why they were running in packs and feasting on anyone who didn’t have the good sense to stick to the streets after dark. It was almost as though they were orphans of the darkness with a speech problem. This last one was going to have to be dealt with quickly before he alerted anyone else to his problems or her presence. She was almost certain there were cops in the park at night who would come running to the type of disturbance he was making.
“If you mean ‘joking’ I don’t think there is anything I’ve shown you or your friends tonight that could be confused with anything funny,” Katie informed the frightened thug “I don’t know how long you’ve been involved in the whole lycanthropic lifestyle but you can’t just go around killing people at random to fit your needs!”
“Oh yeah, child?” he called back to her “Then tell me how you stay alive without taking the lives of the scum who litter the streets of this town! Tell me how you stay alive!”
Thinking back to earlier in the evening, Katie recalled the scaling of the Central Park Zoo wall to take down an unsuspecting deer in the safety and quiet of its enclosure. She shuddered slightly as the thought of the animal’s metallic tasting blood flowed down her throat quenching the feelings which had intensified since her arrival.
“That’s none of your damn business,” she told him matter-of-factly “and I would be more worried about my own survival right about now because I’m not really one to leave any loose ends.”
Exhausted and injured from the fall atop the ice, the man halted his journey toward safety and awaited his deserved fate. As Katie reached the edge of the man’s feet, she could tell he knew the end had finally come. She’d witnessed this look once before. This was the silent plea for life Jessie McGee exhibited on the rain-soaked grass of the Myrtle County Fairgrounds on that October night of destiny. She was tired of conversation. It was time to finish the job.
By the light of the moon, she could see the odd twist of the man’s ankle as he stared at her in agony. Breathing as though he were attempting as many as possible, savoring all for fear each one might be his last, he gasped loudly against the quiet of the night. Jerking suddenly as Katie reached toward him, he sighed in relief as he realized she was only going for his wallet chain. He broke his silence and peered at her in disgust… even if it meant his last vocal stand.
“Oh, it’s not bad enough that you’re probably going to off me in a bit but you’ve got to go and swipe my wallet as well?”
Removing the stack of money from its leather shell, she tossed the empty projectile straight back into the man’s face with a pop.
“Hey, gammy bitches have to eat too!” she whispered quietly.
Katie removed the sweatshirt’s hood from around her stringy, sweat soaked hair revealing the remainder of her face to the man in a show of finite. He braced for the worst as he sharply closed his eyes and tightened his body to the point of shivering. Katie finished counting the money and tucked it deep inside her back blue jeans pocket for safekeeping. Three thousand dollars was quite an amount for such a nasty thug and a haul for her. This would keep her afloat a little bit longer in the city and she was sure the remains of the other three creeps had a little bit of money on them as well.
“Wow, money bags!” she spoke surprised “If I knew you guys were rolling in it like this, I would’ve started killing you days ago!”
Her waiting victim found no humor in her discovery.
Without warning, a light came on in the opaque blackness of her head that nearly caused her to laugh
aloud. If she insisted on living every day from here on out as though it could possibly be her last, then she might as well give it a cause. Something to live for, so to speak. Something to strike both curiosity and fear into the hearts of those who were to oppose her. Suddenly, the internal conflict from an hour before faded away. Katie discovered her answer to the questions that clouded her young brain and it contained just enough purpose to keep her motivated to pull it off and keep her enemies guessing. Locking serious eyes with the freezing man one last time, he spoke for the sake of clarity.
“Who are you, girl? Are you the finder of the lost? Are you some kind of wayward hero who just hasn’t been unlucky enough to meet the right villain? Are you the savior of Central Park?”
“Not really,” Katie finally confessed “I’m not even from around here. I’m just a girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and I’m here to set things right. I know all too well who the villain is and I hope to meet him soon.”
Chuckling in discomfort, the man plead for one final bit of information before meeting his untimely end.
“I just wanted to know why I was lucky enough to fit into your story, love, and was I just in the wrong place at the wrong time as well? What do you call yourself?”
“No,” she replied “You were exactly where you needed to be when you needed to be there. They call me The Howler. You’re going to be my messenger.”
Slamming him hard across the bridge of his nose with her boot, he lost consciousness almost instantly. The board had now been set with its various pieces and the first chess move had been made. Katie’s pawn would soon be informing the other players of her existence.
C. Derick Miller is a dark fiction author, gonzo journalist, freelance A&E journalist, poet, ordained minister, and ASCAP songwriter born in the town of Greenville, Texas. A seasoned paranormal investigator and traveler for the art industry, his influences include Hunter S. Thompson, Kevin Smith, Shawn Mullins, and Del James. He is currently signed with Black Rose Writing and Death’s Head Press. Chad is also an active member of The International Thriller Writers Organization, The Horror Writers Association, the creator of Gonzo Wolf Press, and writer/co-host of both the “Butterflies Make Me Angry” and “American Justice” podcasts. He currently resides in the Bishop Arts District of Dallas, Texas and has a price on his head for his short story “Hell Paso” contained in the #1 Amazon Best Selling Death’s Head Press Anthology And Hell Followed.
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