tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52547243745426093162024-02-20T01:29:11.392-08:00HouseLeague FictionI write dark fiction and weird flash stories.
In this blog, I plan to post new stories each week and talk about new authors/websites/books that I discover along the way.chrisirvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03538181427424970052noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5254724374542609316.post-73302809731744563752012-01-23T18:09:00.000-08:002012-01-23T18:09:48.543-08:00!!NEW HOME!!<b>I've moved! Check out the new blog here: <a href="http://houseleaguefiction.com/" target="_blank">HouseLeague Fiction</a></b>chrisirvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03538181427424970052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5254724374542609316.post-75817025817629364202011-12-31T13:45:00.000-08:002011-12-31T13:46:25.202-08:00Ultra-Short CompetitionMy Ultra-Short piece, "The Man in the Cold," was just released as an Honoree for the <a href="http://www.umm.maine.edu/eighth-annual-ultra-short-competition.html">The Binnacle Eighth Annual Ultra-Short Competition! </a><br />
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The Binnacle is University of Maine at Machias's Literary & Arts Journal. UMM is currently accepting entries for it's <a href="http://www.umm.maine.edu/ultra-short-competition.html">9th Annual Ultra-Short Competition</a>. 150 word limit and deadline is February 15th.<br />
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<br />chrisirvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03538181427424970052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5254724374542609316.post-25289000020392562472011-12-30T18:20:00.000-08:002011-12-30T18:21:43.684-08:00PODCAST REVIEW: Dead of Night by Jonathon MaberryOver at <a href="http://darkdiscussions.com/default.html">Dark Discussions podcast</a> I co-hosted a review of Jonathon Maberry's new novel, Dead of Night. Dead of Night is an excellent book that made me crave zombies again. Check it out!<br />
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<a href="http://darkdiscussions.com/Pages/podcast_035.html">THE REVIEW</a>chrisirvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03538181427424970052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5254724374542609316.post-88041447815346017072011-12-14T14:16:00.000-08:002011-12-14T15:00:14.051-08:00Last Minute Holiday Gifts for WritersToday I purchased a little Christmas present for myself....<a href="http://www.literatureandlatte.com/index.php" target="_blank">Scrivener!</a> And it inspired me to publish a little list on the books I've accumulated over the past year. All are excellent and are sure to be enjoyed by your writer friends and loved ones.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/What-Writing-Exercises-Fiction-Writers/dp/0205616887/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1323901271&sr=8-1" target="_blank">What If?</a> - Anne Bernays and Pamela Painter : <i>What If?</i> was highly recommended to me by an instructor who found it to be a great teaching tool. This is more of a 'text book' but as someone who has little formal writing education outside of <a href="http://grubstreet.org/" target="_blank">Grub Street</a>, I've found this to be invaluable. <i>What If?</i> contains over 100 exercises (much more than just prompts) that focus on the elements of writing and a collection of short stories.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Writing-Horror-Handbook-Writers-Association/dp/1582974209/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1323901301&sr=1-1" target="_blank">On Writing Horror</a> - Horror Writers Association : The HWA's official book on writing in the Horror genre. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Danse-Macabre-Stephen-King/dp/B0057DBN42/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1323901328&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Danse Macabre</a> - Stephen King : Stephen King's journey through the history of the Horror genre. Not to be missed by Horror fans. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Writing-10th-Anniversary-Memoir-Craft/dp/1439156816/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1323901349&sr=1-1" target="_blank">On Writing</a> - Stephen King : Stephen King's memoir - not just a biography. It's a quick read and a valuable learning tool.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Essentials-Screenwriting-Business-Television-Writing/dp/0452296277/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1323901371&sr=1-1" target="_blank">Essentials of Screenwriting</a> - Richard Walter : A great book on the art and craft of film and television writing.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Elements-Style-4th-William-Strunk/dp/0205313426/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1323901397&sr=1-1" target="_blank">The Elements of Style</a> - Strunk and White : Classic, short and to the point. Perfect stocking stuffer...though it might be like getting clothes for Christmas when you were a little kid.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Writing-Well-30th-Anniversary-Nonfiction/dp/0060891548/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1323901753&sr=1-1" target="_blank">On Writing Well</a> - William Zinsser : I have yet to read this one but I heard such great things about it that I recently picked it up. It's target audience is non-fiction writers but it looks to contain great material no matter what your favored genre.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Write-Overcome-Writers-Block-Period/dp/B001QCX256/ref=sr_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1323901418&sr=1-5" target="_blank">Write.</a> - Karen Peterson : For writers block and to instill passion and confidence. A book to check in on every once in awhile to remind one to just sit down and write. It's all about confidence people! If you write, call yourself a writer. Just sit down and get to work!<br />
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<a href="http://www.thestorymatic.com/" target="_blank">The Storymatic</a> - The Storymatic is a huge set of writing prompts on cards that can be used for exercises or games (Six trillion stories in on little box...so it states...on the box). I've used them to force myself to sit down and write on whatever crazy combination pops out...like //pulls cards// "Person who should not be in charge" and "wrong number." I might just start on that one right now...<br />
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There you have it folks. Now go out and spend those hard earned monies!!<br />
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I'm off to Scrivener...chrisirvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03538181427424970052noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5254724374542609316.post-32653536513615519972011-12-07T11:29:00.001-08:002011-12-30T18:22:38.231-08:00REVIEW: Epitaphs edited by Tracy L. CarboneThe second book I had the pleasure of reading from my AnthoCon binge (5 anthologies and 3 novels) was <i>Epitaphs: The Journal of the New England Horror Writers</i>. <a href="http://nehwnews.wordpress.com/">The New England Horror Writers</a> released the anthology at AnthoCon and had several of the authors on hand to read during a panel. <a href="http://novelfriend.blogspot.com/">Trisha J. Wooldridge </a>was exceptional in her reading of her poem, <i>Kali's Promise</i>. I've read it twice and each time I hear her voice in my head as I read the words. <i>Epitaphs</i><i> </i>brings a wide range of dark fiction (23 short stories and 3 poems) and while several didn't appeal to me, there seems to be something for everyone. I was disappointed at first to see two reprints but Rick Hautala's <i>Perfect Witness</i>, originally published in 1995, ended up being one of my favorites in the anthology. Overall I thought <i>Epitaphs </i>was a great read and contained several stories that I will want to revisit in the future. Below are my favorite pieces from <i>Epitaphs</i>:<br />
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<i><b>A Case of the Quiets</b>: </i>A poem by Kurt Newton that reminded me of Jack Ketchum's Bram Stoker award winning short story, <i>The Box.</i><br />
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<b><i>The Possessor Worm</i></b>: Editor Tracy L. Carbone introduced B. Adrian White's <i>The Possessor Worm </i>stating that it was Lovecraftian in nature and she hates Lovecraft. No love for Lovecraft?! Come on! I was pumped to read it, however, as I am a huge fan of Lovecraft. White does not disappoint. The story updates the letter format of some Lovecraft tales with emails back and forth between two characters on opposite coasts of the U.S. and the horror that one of them finds in an old home in the North End of Boston.<br />
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<b><i>Make a Choice</i></b>: The situation in <i>Make a Choice </i>by John McIlveen is one that I think we see in a lot of contemporary horror (Strangers, Last House on the Left, etc.) But the tale is very well written and makes the reader question what really is the best outcome for the family.<br />
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<b><i>Perfect Witness</i></b>: Mentioned above - don't want to say much else to spoil the story other than I loved it!<br />
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<b><i>Kali's Promise</i></b>: Also mentioned above. The poem is about a woman who doesn't exactly get the revenge she was looking for. Voices for the demon and the main character come through loud and distinct.<br />
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<b><i>Malfeasance</i></b>: I really like the questions that David North-Martino delves into with this story: How does the individual react when presented a situation vs. how is the same situation viewed by society as a whole? Murder and torture are accepted as wrong by society, but as an individual, would you commit the crime to save a loved one, for example?<br />
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<b><i>A Deeper Kind of Cold</i></b>: Great sci-fi horror story from K. Allen Wood. I love the setting in the space station and it screams <i>Alien </i>to me. Brutal revelations for characters with a lot of pent up emotion and an ending that I'm still tossing around in my head.<br />
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<b><i>Legend of the Wormley Farms</i></b>: Philip Roberts, this may be my favorite piece in the anthology. A family farm fallen on hard times. Cue the horror!<br />
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<i><b>The Church of Thunder and Lightning</b></i>: I'm a news junkie so I loved this story. Peter N. Dudar tells the tale of a reporter who is so desperate for a big story she sneaks into a cult ceremony with disastrous results. <br />
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<b><i>To Sleep, Perchance to Die</i></b>: In which an obese man suffering from a
sleep disorder doesn't find the cure he's looking for with a CPAP
machine. I have a like/dislike relationship with this story. It's not something that I would rave about but wow, does Jeffrey C. Pettengill know how to keep the reader in the moment or what? This story is so visceral and keeps the reader in such a
gruesome - albeit very short - moment, one that Pettengill
drags on over six pages. I could tell where the story
was headed after things started to go wrong but I think that was part of
what kept my eyes glued to the page even though I wanted to look
away.<br />
<br />
Next Up: <i>Dead of Night </i>by Jonathon Maberry (And maybe I'll get some damn writing done!)chrisirvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03538181427424970052noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5254724374542609316.post-83857744640836765172011-11-28T14:57:00.001-08:002011-12-30T18:23:09.579-08:00REVIEW: The Armageddon Chord by Jeremy WagnerWhile attending Anthocon in Portsmouth, NH last month (an excellent convention on speculative fiction and I'm very much looking forward to next year's Con) I had the pleasure of meeting author/musician Jeremy Wagner. A friend of mine and I are fans of metal music so I figured I'd check out <i>The Armageddon Chord</i> and maybe pick up a copy. Jeremy and I got to talking and found out we grew up in the same city north of Chicago (small world!) and that cinched it; I had to read his book. And I'm glad I did.<br />
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<i>The Armageddon Chord</i> is a crazy over-the-top romp of good versus evil and is exploding with little music Easter eggs for fans who know where to look. The story switches back and forth between the protagonist, Kirk 'God of Guitar' Vaisto, compared to real-life guitarist Michel Angelo in the novel, a clean metal guitarist who never really fit into the band that made him rich and famous, and the antagonists Helmut Hartkopff (metal reference!) and Festus Baustone. Hartkopff is straight out of Indiana Jones and I liken Baustone to an evil mastermind from a James Bond movie. Crazy, yes, but it works. The antagonists' motivations are explained and it makes sense how events pull both sides together. <br />
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Wagner does a great job of weaving in secondary characters to assist in fleshing out Vaisto and Baustone. I was pleasantly surprised with the character Mona and I enjoyed her scenes with Vaisto after her introduction through another character (not to be spoiled). My only real complaint character-wise is the Priest could have been more developed. I thought he came out of nowhere and I would have liked to know more. <br />
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Wagner fills the pages of <i>The Armageddon Chord</i> with his knowledge and experience as a musician. From Vaisto's guitar playing to scenes in the studio to industry details, it's obvious Wagner poured his passions into the novel. And the chapter titles--Dream Evil, The Cabal, Nocturnal Emissions, Diabolus in Musica, Metal Heart, etc.--all metal music references that were fun to find and that I could tell Wagner had fun slipping in.<br />
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I had no idea what I was getting into with <i>The Armageddon Chord </i>but it was a lot of fun. At times it felt like the story struggled balancing its over-the-top nature with serious tones; the strong religious themes near the end didn't fit with the characters as well as I'd like them to but overall it was a great read. And the pace of the final act is just awesome. I'm looking forward to Wagner's next book. Check out <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Armageddon-Chord-Jeremy-Wagner/dp/0983129770/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1322520900&sr=8-1"><i>The Armageddon Chord</i>! </a><br />
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Recommended: 8/10 (10/10 for metal music fans)<br />
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Next up: <i>Epitaphs: The Journal of the New England Horror Writers</i> edited by Tracy L. Carbone.chrisirvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03538181427424970052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5254724374542609316.post-15713376741792816932011-10-30T18:27:00.000-07:002011-10-30T18:30:08.207-07:00Starla introWell...after changing the back story and driving force behind Starla, I'm currently left with an unfinished product. I started this story after reading "The Monster's Corner" anthology edited by Christopher Golden. I'm pretty set on the first 400 words (looking like 2500 is the goal) so here it is...and I'll have the rest up by mid-week.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Starla</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
When lightning struck the island
for the third time, sundering the remaining wall of Winchester Light and
tearing her chains from its crumbling foundation, Starla bit her tongue,
severing the end. Her mouth contorted
into a crimson grin and she savored the metallic tang of blood and algae and
freedom. The storm raged overhead,
whipping the sea around the ruined lighthouse into a fury, crashing waves
salting the rain. She roared back at the
hurricane with lungs full of hatred for her past, the sea and for Him. One
hundred years chained to that cursed rock.
Ninety-nine ships led by her damned voice to be devoured by Him, the ever-thirsting
drain, a whirlpool in the deep darkness of the sea. She’d filed the tips of her webbed claws into
sharp points and chiseled deep lines into the volcanic rock to mark the passing
of ship and season. The carvings were a
wasted attempt to calm her mind and maintain some kind of order. Over the years hope dwindled and her sanity
seemed to come and go as it pleased, burying itself deep within some hidden
corner of Starla’s fragile mind and leaving her to wander alone through
haunting dreams. On those nights, she
relived the horrors of her capture and expedition across the Atlantic aboard
the Negro Marie. She would wake with a
start, choking herself on the collar as she thrashed about reaching for her
brother Martin as he burned in the wreckage of her father’s Irish cutter, her
eyes wet from the memory of the black smoke.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
“This ends
tonight,” thought Starla. Another bolt
lit the charcoal sky, reflecting her grotesque image in a puddle of brine. Her long braided hair hung brackish and
tangled, flecked with bits of broken shell.
Milk white cockle shells adorned her gray-green breasts, chipped and
cracked yet permanent, an extension of her weather beaten skin and the dark,
mottled scales that formed her tail.
Starla grimaced, tearing her eyes from the image. She’d been beautiful once. But that was before she had become broken and
lost. Betrayed and discarded to the sea. Behind her, at the base of the lighthouse,
the broken chain attached to her neck glowed white hot in a charred crater. Starla took the tarnished ring around her
throat in her webbed fingers and gripped until her knuckles turned bone
white. Tiny barnacles encrusting the
back of her gray-green hands stirred in their shells from the warmth of the
collar. Wind whistled through holes in
the base of the rock, chorus spiraling in gusts ranging from bass to soprano. </div>chrisirvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03538181427424970052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5254724374542609316.post-32037689000613345022011-10-25T18:17:00.000-07:002011-10-30T18:27:55.538-07:00October Horror HiatusI've been devouring horror stories and movies over the past month in honor of October, which has kept me away from writing. But I do have one piece that I am finishing up this week (posting over Halloween weekend) and two more in the pipe.<br />
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<u>October Books</u><br />
The Monster's Corner Anthology by Christopher Golden<br />
Red by Jack Ketchum<br />
Criminal Macabre Omnibus by Steve Niles<br />
The Road to Roma by Dave Kuhne<br />
Blood Stone by Nate Kenyon<br />
<br />
<u>October Movies</u><br />
30 Days of Night: Dark Days<br />
The People Under the Stairs<br />
Tale of Two Sisters<br />
Sleepy Hollow<br />
Dawn of the Dead<br />
Stake Land<br />
Shaun of the Dead<br />
Mimic Director's Cut<br />
The Exorcism of Emily Rose<br />
Black Swan<br />
Let Me In<br />
Midnight Meat Train <br />
<br />
What are you watching/reading?<br />
<br />chrisirvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03538181427424970052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5254724374542609316.post-16427230249703369642011-09-29T16:06:00.001-07:002011-09-29T16:27:24.168-07:00An Evening on the T<br />
<div class="Standard">
The evening train is crammed with bodies tormented by the
cold and eager to get home. They clog
the doors and scoff at those unwilling to move until the conductor is yelling
and pumping her red <i>close door</i> button.
Worn eyes and tired hands are kept to themselves; headphones and
cellphones our only friends. I'm lucky
to get a seat.</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
“I wish it cost more,” she says. “Then I feel like it might be worth it.”</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
My mind filters in the sweet voice, yearning for
conclusion. I can't see her face, but
her friend nods in agreement. And so do
I. I want whatever she's having.</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
A quick stop later and they are are off; two school girls
looking for trouble. Or ice cream.</div>
<div class="Standard">
<br /></div>
<div class="Standard">
My gaze shifts to my reflection in the window and I fade into
the hum of the crowd finding its way home.</div>
chrisirvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03538181427424970052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5254724374542609316.post-43596345551224506762011-09-28T16:33:00.000-07:002011-12-30T18:03:08.507-08:00Keep the Devil Down the Hole<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Pudge jabbed his shovel into the frozen earth, letting out a sigh as it toppled over, clanking against the headstone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
"Will you cut the shit and just keep digging?" Derrick thrust his shovel back into the fresh grave, grunting as he heaved another scoop of dirt. Fisher's grave was a mess of mud and snow; recent visitors' footprints having left an outline of some macabre dance. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Pudge blew over his blisters, his cold hands as lifeless as the cemetery around them. He stuffed his hands into his jacket searching for a fix. Yellow pills, blue pills, a cigarette; anything to take his mind away from the cold. He came up empty, only finding a candy wrapper which he threw on the ground. His stomach grumbled. "I got blisters, D. Shit, how long do we have to be out here<span class="msoIns"><ins cite="mailto:Christopher%20Irvin" datetime="2011-01-17T11:31"></ins>,</span> man? We've been digging for over an hour already." His bloodshot eyes glanced around, shifting from side to side. "Fisher ain't even been buried for a day. We can come back."<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Derrick paused, standing up straight. "Fuck your blisters, fool. Why don't you snatch us some gloves next time?" He leaned over his shovel. "And as for coming back? Bitch, do you think people will take kindly to a half dug up grave?" </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Pudge swallowed and scratched at dry skin on his cheek.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
"No is right. Now let’s just dig him up, grab the ice they buried him with and get out of here. We'll hit the pawns and then get you your smack."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Their eyes met; for a fleeting moment, the sliver of moon in the sky gave them an eerie glow before they sank back into dark skin and shadow. “And I get that hat, too,” Derrick mumbled.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Pudge picked up the fallen shovel and began to work at the edge of the hole near Fisher's headstone. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<i> That hat...</i>thought Pudge. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Fisher had appeared out of thin air one Sunday morning in the Westside Projects; in his tattered black jacket and wide brim hat, he stared out across the yard as the police recovered the bodies of six gang members who were murdered overnight. No one knew who he was or why he was there but he pretty much ran things after that. On several occasions, men from the city came into the Projects, poking fun at Fisher's strange old hat or his dirty clothes. Fisher called it <i>trespassin'</i>. And once you trespassed, you didn't come back. There were terrible screams on those nights. And the next day, another hood would be missing from his bed. The old folks whispered that the nights grew longer since the shadow of that wide black brim stretched across the grounds.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
That is, until he died.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
They worked on for several minutes until Pudge's constant fidgeting interrupted the silence. “D,” he said, sniffling, “did you hear how Fisher died?” Derrick ground his crooked teeth in silent annoyance.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
"I heard Fisher got torn up real bad. Body parts all over the place and shit." Pudge pulled his sleeves back up over his palms to cover his wounds. "But, Little Mike said that one of Fisher's top men popped him." He made his hand into a gun and gestured towards Derrick. "POP. POP." Eyes squinting as if aiming down the sights. "Two in the head."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Derrick cocked his head to the side and glared at Pudge. "Are you done yet?" Embarrassed, Pudge hunched his shoulders, feeling goose bumps climb his spine. The wind picked up, ruffling Derrick's sweatshirt. "Get down here and help or you get nothing." </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Pudge continued his ramble as his descended into the hole. "And then just yesterday," he cleared his throat. "Just yesterday, Matty comes over and says that he heard someone took ol' Fisher's big black hat." He shifted some dirt with his shovel. "That's right. Someone took that black hat right off Fisher's head and WHAM, Fisher hit the floor. Dead."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Derrick probed deeper, steam pouring from his mouth and nostrils. The strain of his grunts becoming louder and harsher. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
"D, I'll help man, really." Pudge backed up against the side of the hole, ducking away from a cloud of dirt.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
And still, Derrick pushed on, faster. His shovel cracked against Pudge's wrist, catching it as he threw dirt against the side. Pudge cried out, dropping his shovel, gripping his hand. Dirt flew into his eyes and he cowered in a corner of the savaged grave. “Watch out D!”</div>
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With a loud THUNK, Derrick's shovel found Fisher's casket. He let out an unnerving cackle as the wood splintered. THUNK, THUNK, THUNK, CRACK!</div>
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Pudge felt an immediate sense of dread emanating from the hole in the casket. It crawled up his legs and took hold of his stomach, squishing and squeezing it as he trembled.</div>
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Derrick crouched over the exposed casket like a predator making claim to a meal. Pudge wished he had turned and ran. Something was <i>wrong</i> with Derrick's eyes, as if he was no longer their sole owner.</div>
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Taken by madness, Derrick tore into the hole in the top of the casket with his bare hands. They were a bloody mess, pulped into glistening appendages that flopped into the opening as if floundering for air. A warm wetness crept down Pudge's leg as he closed his eyes in terror.</div>
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Derrick's head wrenched back and let out a scream that burned all thought and sense from Pudge's mind. Pudge fought to his feet, scrabbled up the side of the hole.</div>
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His lungs screamed for mercy, threatening to burst from his chest as he struggled over and down the hill, past the lone dead tree towards his abandoned building, his home. But he tripped on the way down, his momentum carrying him rolling, rolling through the snow to a stop, slamming his head against the iron rods of the cemetery fence. Through blurred vision he glanced up, back at the hill over which he had just come.</div>
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There, resting against the tree, stood a tall wisp of a man with a big black hat and a crooked yellow grin.</div>
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END</div>chrisirvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03538181427424970052noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5254724374542609316.post-68099747362660944142011-09-28T16:08:00.000-07:002011-09-28T16:21:26.217-07:00Here We Go...hi!<br /><br />I'm a fledgling writer who has a passion for dark fiction. Each week I plan to post new short and flash fiction. I'm learning more every day and I will continue to post my writing as it evolves over the coming years.<br /><br />Hope you enjoy.<br /><br />chrischrisirvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03538181427424970052noreply@blogger.com0