Dear Readers

Fear not the Darkness, But What Lies Within, The recesses of our mind, The creepy cobwebbed corners,That lingers on and tickles us,With tingle feelings of alarm, The deep in the stomach, Pain we feel when we do warn, The fear is deadly it seeks, The deepest corner of our mind, It's just a story to alarm,Educate and provide entertainment for our minds. So read on dear reader, I hope you find the stories amusing and full of charm.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Three Word Wednesday- Part 4- Awakening

Three Word Wednesday- Part 4- Awakening

Gifted, adjective: Having exceptional talent or natural ability.

Intense, adjective: Of extreme force, degree, or strength; (of an action) highly concentrated; having or showing strong feelings or opinions; extremely earnest or serious.

Rot, verb: (Chiefly of animal or vegetable matter) decay or cause to decay by the action of bacteria and fungi; decompose; gradually deteriorate through lack of attention or opportunity; noun: The process of decaying; rotten or decayed matter; a process of deterioration; a decline in standards.

Part 4- Awakening

    I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. I found myself walking down a long hallway and then knocking at a door that had three oh eight on it. The door opened I was admitted, but I didn’t see who opened it. An arm motioned me to a bedroom. Opening the door I felt something hit the back of my head and I went down like a sack of potatoes.  

    Closing my eyes for a moment to regain my equilibrium I couldn't seem to think. A nagging thought filtered through my mind why was I here? My weathered brain said open your eyes so I did; but my eyes wouldn’t seem to adjust. Instead I saw myself as if reflected in many mirrors~ reflected like I was in a funhouse. I closed my eyes again and when opened them it was like a kaleidoscope many different fractured intense pictures of the woman I’d seen in the!

    Looking over at the bed I saw him. At first I saw naked feet, then legs all blue tinged. I smelled a coppery smell and then I looked at his chest and saw a hole and blood that had seeped from his wound. The blood that had long ago dripped down as fluid from the soaked sheets now pooled on the floor. He was rank like dry rot. The man had dark brown hair and his green glassy eyes held no light.
“He’s dead,” I yelled.

    I turned back to the bed hoping to feel the pulse of the man as I reach over to do so I felt a pain in my head and I fell forward.

    I woke up at that point shaking. Who had hit me on the head twice and why had it seemed in the dream that I didn’t know who the man was? This just kept getting weirder and weirder I needed to remember more. Hell, I needed to remember who I was then I’d know who to trust. I tried hard to remember my own name. Garland had said my name was Annalise Sumner, but that didn’t sound familiar to me at all.

 My thoughts were interrupted when Garland came running in the room. He looked angry as he took me by the shoulders and shook me snarling and yelling, “The gig is up. You can cut out any pretense of amnesia. Don't think you are gifted and you fooled me. Who are you and why do you have Annalise's face?What have you done with Annalise?”

©Sheilagh Lee October 15, 2014 

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Devil’s Nightmare Premonitions Hallowe'en Blog Tour

We are here today with Author, Robert Pruneda. 

Robert has a new exciting and spine tingling book available and he has agreed to answer some questions about his craft and book today.
The follow-up book to  

Cover for 'Devil's Nightmare'

Now I have to be honest I’ve been privileged to read both of these outstanding books and I found them riveting, nail biting and truly scary. I’m sure your readers will too. But since we have you here Robert we’d like to ask you a few questions your readers might like to know.

1.)  What aspects do you think a good story has?
A good pace is important to me in storytelling. While I appreciate backstory to help build up characters or settings, too much of it can turn me off and make me want to put the book down and do something else for a while before coming back. It doesn’t have to be action from the first page all the way to the end, but the pacing should move the story along with enough conflict to keep me interested and turning the pages.

2) How did you pick the names of your characters?
I drew them out of a hat. Seriously, though, when I choose names for characters I think about who the character is and try to pick a name that seems real and fits the personality. For example, there is some significance to Cody’s surname Sumner. I also jot down names (first or last) that I like when I see or hear them for future reference. I have done quite a bit of transcribing for a university professor through my administrative support business and have come across some very strong and interesting names. I now have a “character names list” for future reference.

3)    What or who inspired you to write?  And how long have you been writing?
I’ve always been a fan of the horror genre in film and print, and Stephen King has been my greatest influence to date. However, I would have to say my brother was my first inspiration because of his interest in story telling when I was a kid. He and I would spend hours playing Dungeons & Dragons, where using your imagination is key while playing the game. He was also a decent artist. He would create his own stories through comics and even wrote a short-story about one of his Dungeons & Dragons characters. I always looked up to my brother when I was a kid and began creating my own comics, drawing them and writing the stories during summer breaks late at night while watching cartoons, usually The Flintstones. It wasn’t until getting laid off from a job in 2001 that I began writing my first novel while working odd jobs until I found something that stuck. I self-published Pursuit of a Dream in 2004, and then began a career in the newspaper industry. My goal at the time was to become a journalist, but ended up running the obituaries department, which turned out to be a more interesting job than I ever thought it would. I also gained some professional experience with writing, editing, and page design. The job steadily turned into a sales-oriented position (no joke), so due to some major differences in opinion and conflicts with new management, I decided to end my newspaper career in September of 2011 to start writing the next chapter in my life as a full-time self-employed individual.
I’m an entrepreneur at heart, always have been, and deciding to leave the traditional workforce to pursue my own dreams was both exciting and terrifying. A big part of that dream was writing. I did that part-time while also operating an small business administrative support and resume writing service from home, which I did on a part-time to full-time basis while working on my first horror novel, which I published last year. The sequel to Devil’s Nightmare comes out on Tuesday.

4.) Do you have a day job?
Yes and no. I am now self-employed working from home, but I do work at a funeral home from time to time (perfect for a horror author, right?). Nowadays, I’m devoting more and more of time to the business of writing fiction as the months go by. My goal is to be able to support myself as an author without the need of additional employment in the next five years. That’s the plan, anyway. I need to write more novels!

5.) What kind of books do you like to read?
My favorite genre is horror, but I also enjoy reading fantasy, science fiction, and thrillers. I read books from both traditionally published authors published by the big publishing houses, such as Stephen King, Michael Crichton, and Dean Koontz; independently published authors, such as Michael R. Hicks and Lorna Suzuki; and books published by the small traditional publishing houses and hybrid publishers (such as Booktrope). I just wish I could read faster. You should see my TBR list.

6.) Some writers find they plot their novels then write them; they are known as plotters. Others just write as the ideas come and are known as pantsers. Which are you or are you a bit if both?
I wrote Devil’s Nightmare completely as a pantser on the most part and found it both very challenging and quite enjoyable. I think it worked well because as I wrote the story I didn’t even know what to expect next. This led to what readers have said to be a surprising ending, which is what I was shooting for. I wrote Devil’s Nightmare: Premonitions in much the same way, although I did have a better idea of how the book was going to progress and how it was going to end. Everything else just fell into place. The sequel has an even more shocking conclusion than the first, so I’m really looking forward to getting that one into the hands of readers. I’m currently plotting another book, but I’ll probably end up writing that one as a pantser too. It may not work for other authors, but I find it is what works best for me.

7.) How did you conceive the ideas for the series?
Devil’s Nightmare is very loosely based on an experience I had when I was somewhere between ten to twelve years old. I can’t remember exactly, but I’ll never forget the experience. Without going into too much detail, when I was a kid some friends of mine and I started playing with a Ouija board. I got obsessed with it and started playing with it by myself (something which is taboo). After playing with the board (and even making my own) I started having nightmares and then began to hear voices in my head (okay, that still happens; I’m an author after all). I started having anxiety attacks and then one night I woke up and had a hard time breathing. I felt something pressing against my chest. I tried to get up, but the unseen force kept me down. Then I saw a pair of inhuman eyes and a silhouette appear hovering just inches above me in the darkness. I froze there, unable to move as this demon, or whatever it was, stared into my eyes. I’ll never forget those eyes and the amount of fear I experienced at that moment. I finally screamed louder than I’ve ever screamed in my life. I cried out for my parents, who soon came rushing into my bedroom. When my mother turned on the light, the apparition disappeared. I never saw it again and never played with a Ouija board after that night.
Maybe it was my imagination. Or maybe it was a demon oppressing me for toying with the occult and breaking some rule of the spirit world. Real or not, it was the most horrifying experience I have ever had. When you read Devil’s Nightmare you will find hints of this experience, but the story in itself goes in a completely different direction.

8.) As a writer do you find yourself trying to put yourself into your character’s mind?
Yes, I do. And I’m still talking to my therapist about it.
I wrote the first book in the Devil’s Nightmare series in first person perspective, so it was kind of a prerequisite for writing my protagonist’s story. The second book is in third person perspective, but it still required getting into the minds of my characters, one of which resulted in some emotional reactions, because I had to think like that particular character and experience some pretty horrendous things a couple of times; this actually opened up some old wounds from my childhood. It was well worth it, though, because it made the scene more genuine to me, as upsetting as it was. On the most part, however, getting into the minds of my characters is a lot of fun. The problem is my characters can be very stubborn and always tend to win our arguments.

9.) I understand you are a gamer. What particular games do you like to play? Did any of those games help you visualize the situations in your books so you could then make such epic mental pictures for the reader that they feel they are there?

Oh, yes. Anybody who knows me personally will vouch for my love of video and computer games. It’s my favorite pastime. I’ve been playing video games since the days of Pong and haven’t stopped since. Hell, I even mention the fact that I’m a gamer in my author bio. J As far as what I enjoy playing the most, I would have to say military style first person shooters (Call of Duty, Battlefield), real-time strategy (Command & Conquer, Total War, Age of Empires), role-playing games (Baldur’s Gate, Elder Scrolls, Dragon Age, Fallout), and racing (Gran Turismo, Forza Motorsport). I also enjoy open world games like Grand Theft Auto. My absolute favorite genre is survival horror, with the Silent Hill series (particularly the first two) being at the top of my list.
I use video games as an outlet to relax and escape the stresses generated from work, finances, and sometimes the inevitable family issues that sometimes arise. Video games haven’t really influenced my writing directly per se, but now that I think about it, the survival horror games that I play probably have in fact had some impact. The one time I would say that video games specifically and directly assisted me was when I wrote my first novel Pursuit of a Dream, which was about a kid with a dream of becoming a professional stock car racer. I played quite a bit of NASCAR video games during that time, which did help with writing the racing scenes.  

10.) Please tell the readers about your latest book Devil’s Nightmare Premonitions.
Devil’s Nightmare: Premonitions is the sequel to the Amazon bestselling horror Devil's Nightmare. Fans of the first novel are in for another horrific thriller full of twists, chills, and a shocking conclusion. It takes place two years after the first novel. Aaron Sanders is retired from the Austin Police Department and he moves his family out of the capital city to start a new life as a small town cop in Lost Maples, Texas (which is a fictional town), where the population count is updated more often than the murder rate. That bit of reputation is about to change when Aaron is once again caught in the middle of a mysterious investigation that has an eerie familiarity. This time, however, he is certain what is responsible for the violent deaths . . . Or is he?
Evil knows no boundaries, and it is up to Aaron to figure out how to protect the residents of his community, and his family, from becoming its next victims.

11) Do you have another book planned to follow up Devil’s Nightmare: Premonitions?
I do have another book planned to follow up Premonitions. I could end the story where it is, but I have a feeling, based on feedback from my beta readers, that readers will want me to continue the series. Devil’s Nightmare was originally supposed to be a single story, but I received several requests for a second novel, so I wrote Devil’s Nightmare: Premonitions. While I’m on that subject, I want to thank all of my readers for your support and for pushing me to continue writing in the horror genre. I have several other stories brewing in this twisted mind of mine, so be sure to follow me on Twitter, Facebook and via my website for news on future projects.

Connect with Robert Pruneda:
Official Website:

Thank you for visiting us today, Robert. As for you, reader, what are you waiting for? Go read Robert’s new book and if you haven’t read the one before that Devil’s Nightmare I highly recommend it. See review here 

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Three Word Wednesday- Part 3- Awakening

Three Word Wednesday- Part 3- Awakening

Arrogant, adjective: Haughty, conceited, self-important, egotistic, full of oneself, superior; overbearing, pompous, bumptious, presumptuous, imperious, overweening; proud, immodest; high and mighty, too big for one's britches, too big for one's boots, big-headed, puffed up; rare hubristic.

Crude, adjective: Unrefined, unpurified, unprocessed, untreated; unmilled, unpolished; coarse, raw, natural; primitive, simple, basic, homespun, rudimentary, rough, rough and ready, rough-hewn, make-do, makeshift, improvised, unfinished, jury-rigged, jerry-built, slapdash; dated rude; vulgar, rude, naughty, suggestive, bawdy, off-color, indecent, obscene, offensive, lewd, salacious, licentious, ribald, coarse, uncouth, indelicate, tasteless, crass, smutty, dirty, filthy, scatological.

Supple, adjective: Lithe, limber, lissome, willowy, flexible, loose-limbed, agile, acrobatic, nimble, double-jointed; pliant, pliable, flexible, soft, bendable, workable, malleable, stretchy, elastic, springy, yielding, rubbery.

Part 3- Awakening

     I felt like I had entered the twilight zone. Not only was I married but I had a child a dead child that I couldn’t remember? It all seemed impossible. Perhaps it was a clever trick that Garland perpetrated on me with ‘Aunt Suzanne’s help’? After all I didn’t remember these people he could have told me that I had five children and I might have believed him. The way he told me was telling; what kind of a man would tell their wife that their child was dead and gone so easily and chillingly?
    “I don’t believe you. You’re punking me! Where’s the camera?”
    “This is no joke Annalise I wish it were. I would never be so crude or obscene.”
    “No one would tell their wife that their child died like that. Either you’re a heartless man or a liar,” I answered unshed tears evident in my choked up voice.
   “I’m sorry you’re correct, Annalise. I’m heartless, I lost my heart the day our daughter died.” he hesitated here then continued in almost a whisper, “It was my fault. That’s actually the first time I’ve said it aloud.”
   “I’m sorry for your loss, though you do realize I do not remember any of this. But maybe that’s better, if you really are responsible.”
   “I would not wish any moment of her life gone from my memory; Leanna, our ray of light and the reason I started to love life. I wish I could take back all the hours I spent working instead of being with her and you. I wasn’t there when either of you needed me,” he said with great feeling so quietly that I barely heard him.
   “Do you have a picture?” I asked.

    He pulled out his wallet and there she was a child of not quite two years of age. Her hair the colour of his; dark and wavy; but the eyes I’d seen as if in a dream and knew they were like mine own, brown with green flecks.

   “Do you remember her?” he asked hopefully.

     I shook my head no.

   “She looks like you in some ways,” he said pushing over the food table and then lifting a lid to show me a mirror.
  “See,” he said as I looked in the mirror.
  “I wish I remembered. She’s a beautiful child but you could be making all of this up.”
  “Annalise, she was our daughter; yours and mine. a little whirlwind with a smile so bright. I know something broke in you when she died it did it me too, but you loved me once. I think you could again,” he pleaded.
  “I don’t know how I feel about you and I don’t appreciate you putting demands on me. Get this through that thickhead of yours; I don’t recall you and I don’t know who I am. Try thinking about someone other than yourself buddy boy.”
  “Now you sound more like yourself Annalise,” he commented.
  “Fine, if I’m more like the Annalise you claim you remember then who was this man that was murdered? How could you want to remain my husband if I cheated on you?
  “Someone set you up. I knew that from the instant I heard. Raymond Markowitz was a friend of mine. He would never sleep with my wife not only because she was my wife, but because he was in love with my dead brother, Jacob. Not that a lot of people know that but Jacob came to us before he died and told me he loved Raymond too. Do you remember Annalise?”

    My head ached as I tried to remember; so much so that I held my head in my hands. None of this sounded like me but then I couldn't remember me so what did I know?

     Garland pushed the call button and the nurse came back in.

   “Do you pelt my patient with questions?” she demanded.
   “I guess I was. Sorry,” he said and then smiled a charming smile; the kind of smile that makes grown women swoon and the nurse was no exception.
   “Why don’t you go and get a bite to eat and let your wife sleep.”
   “Will you make sure no one else disturbs her?”
  “I’ll personally make sure she has no other visitors except the doctor.”
  “I’ll see you later Annalise. Maybe the next time I see you you’ll remember me,” Garland commented and then abruptly left.

   The nurse offered me some pain pills and I tried to sleep but I had so many questions. Why did someone set me up and who? Was I in danger from them still? But could I really believe anything that arrogant man, Garland said? Why did I want to believe he could lie as easily as he breathed? Was that the true memory? His body so supple, his face so handsome and his manner so charming; he used it to disarming everyone, but not me I would not be taken in. The child might be real but she didn’t seem like mine, not really. So she had the same colour that didn’t make her mine. She seemed like a distant relative that you have no real ties to and yet I felt bad that she had died. I would keep my eyes and ears open Garland wouldn’t pull the wool over my eyes just because my memory had fled. Memory... I lost my memory did any of this matter? I needed to remember who I was then I could deal with Garland and this Aunt Suzanne until then I take everything they said with a grain of salt.

©Sheilagh Lee October 8, 2014 

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Three Word Wednesday- Part 2- Awakening

Three Word Wednesday- Part 2- Awakening

Barren, adjective: (Of land) too poor to produce much or any vegetation; (of a tree or plant) not producing fruit or seed; (of a woman) unable to have children; showing no results or achievements; unproductive; (of a place or building) bleak and lifeless; empty of meaning or value.

Intense, adjective: Of extreme force, degree, or strength; (of an action) highly concentrated; having or showing strong feelings or opinions; extremely earnest or serious.

Worry, verb: [no object] give way to anxiety or unease; allow one's mind to dwell on difficulty or troubles; [with object] cause to feel anxiety or concern; cause annoyance to;  noun: A state of anxiety and uncertainty over actual or potential problems; a source of anxiety.

Part 2- Awakening

      I awoke to shouting, okay not shouting, but very loud intense voices. I wanted them to be quiet they were making my head hurt. I didn’t want to open my eyes, so I kept them closed. I pulled on my left arm and remembered my predicament. Yep, still stuck by handcuffs to the hospital bed! I couldn’t have murdered anyone. I knew in my heart of hearts, I wasn’t that type of person and yet they said I murdered someone. Not only that I seemed to have a problem with my memory. Let’s look at this objectively I thought. My head hurt and I couldn’t remember my own name. Put that together and head injury equals memory loss. Maybe whoever had killed this guy had knocked me on the head? Yes, that had to be it no need to worry. 

    Who was I kidding? I was worried to death. I had probably interrupted a murder and barely survived myself. Did I have serious brain damage? I reached up and touched my head, yes there was a bandage on the right side of my head and it hurt to touch it. I should remember these voices shouldn’t I? Why couldn’t I? 

      My brain was so fuzzy. I moved it to shake out the cobwebs and was instantly sorry. My head pained more.

     I realized one of the voices was the police officer, so I opened my eyes and saw the cop, Constable Bennett arguing with a small bird-like woman. She appeared to be about forty or possible fifty years old. It was hard to tell her age because she obviously had some work done. There were small lines hidden mostly by her up-swept sun kissed hair, her lips and cheeks filled in with Botox. That hairdo alone must have cost a fortune I thought. She touched the man who claimed to be my husband, intimately on the hand and the shoulders almost like a lover’s touch.

   Watching them it felt like I was here and yet not here. I felt detached like a scientist analyzing them.

  “I demand you let my client go this instance. I have submitted these papers to your boss and the court and my good friend Judge Barnes agrees with me.”
   “I can’t just let the prisoner go on your say so ma’am. I have to hear this from my supervisor,” Constable Bennett protested.
   “I’ll have your badge. You have abused my client and set yourselves up for a lawsuit.”

   Just then the police officer’s phone rang.

  “Yes, sir. No sir. Right sir, I will,” Constable Bennett said into the phone, then he put his cellphone in his pocket and with his other hand pulled out a key and undid the cuffs on my left wrist and then abruptly left the room.

    The doctor arrived then and my so-called husband and the lawyer stepped into the hall at his urging. That's when I found I'd been here for three days. The doctor told me that my thick head had saved my life. Some of loss of memory was consistent with a head injury of this magnitude, he suggested that with some rest I would recover my memory. He also told me not to worry that I would go home with strangers anytime soon he'd keep me here in the hospital for a few more days.  I breathed a sigh of relief, confident that soon I'd remember.  He then excused himself and sent the lawyer and my so-called husband back in the room. The man who said he was my husband  touched my hand and asked, "Everything okay, honey?"

    I thought it was a stupid question but somehow I wanted to reassure him so I nodded.

   “I’ve got you out another scrape Annalise. What you put me through. When will you grow up? I thought that your marriage to Garland would make you mature but I can see no evidence of it. He has kept you. even though you're barren. How did you end up going to see Raymond Markowitz after I specifically told you to stay away from him, I’ll never know! I’m going to have to get some work done at this rate you’re causing new wrinkles to start. What have you to say for yourself stressing out Garland and I like this?”the lawyer nattered at me.

    Did she really expect me to answer her? It seemed she did for she looked at me expectantly.Kept me? Barren? She sounded like something out of a bad movie.  Didn’t she understand I hadn’t a clue who she was? Garland smiled at me and for a moment I could understand why I would have married him. His smile sizzled with a chemistry that made me warm all over. 
    Okay, Annalise if that’s your name, let’s get your brain working. I wasn’t under arrest anymore, but who was the dead man and why had I been found with him and who had hit me on the head? The murderer? Was I still in danger? If I couldn’t have killed him then did someone I know murder him? Should I really trust my ‘husband’ or this lawyer?
“Do you listen to me, Annalise,” the lawyer persisted interrupting my thoughts.
“Suzie, she does know who you are,” the man who claimed sounding almost amused.  
“Nonsense! Like she wouldn’t know her Aunt Suzanne.”
 Aunt Suzanne she was my aunt? Then why was she so over affectionate with my husband? Some aunt she was!! With a husband like him finding my memory loss amusing and aunt like her; maybe that’s why I couldn’t recall them. 
“She says she doesn’t know me, why would she remember you?” Garland commented.
The man who claimed to be my husband was laid back almost like a tiger ready to pounce. He seemed nice on the surface, but something about him made me think he could be cruel if he needed to be.
“Annalise I’m sorry for kissing Garland.  I was a little too drunk and maybe a little too needy, but do you really have to pretend you don’t know me?” Suzanne asked then.
“I don’t know who you are; but you don’t sound like a very nice person,” I commented.
“Well I never; if this is one of your tricks Annalise it will get you nowhere. You still don’t get your mother’s estate until your twenty five and it might get you an involuntary stay in a psyche ward again. Is that what you want?”
“How dare you Suzanne? Annalise has a head injury. She needs your patience and understanding...”
 “That’s the problem with both given her too much of that and this latest foolishness is the result. Or did the fact that they found her naked in Raymond’s bed mean nothing? She’s like her mother!!! Wake up and smell the coffee she was cheating on you, that’s why she filed for divorce then took it back,” Suzanne commented.
I was naked when they found me. Oooh, yuck people had seen me naked was my next thought. Wait a minute they said Raymond was dead before I got there so how, or why had I become naked before being clobbered over the head? Someone had staged the scene to make me look guilty?
Suzanne had said I had wanted to divorce the man who called himself my husband Garland? Why that because these people seem to treat me like I was an object a chess piece you moved around? Had I been so compliant and agreeable around these people they treated me like a child and I’d had enough? Frankly I found my so-called aunt disagreeable and if she touched Garland one more time I think I’d sock her. Garland must have sensed my anger for in the next moment he said coldly, “Visiting hours are over Suzanne I’ll take care of my wife now. I’ll call you if we need you.” “But Garland...” she began.
   “Goodbye, Suzanne.”
   Suzanne left and Garland turned to me, “If all of this is a ploy to make me forgive you, you can stop now. I’m sorry about the past not being there for you when you needed me and burying myself in work. But I promise you I never slept with your aunt. Even though she came onto me I never encouraged her. I want to make this marriage work, Annalise. I realize that I am older and I expected you to act my age. I'm sorry you need to act your own age; that wasn't fair. I want us to get back to where we were. Please, talk to me Annalise, I love you.”
   “I’m not pretending anything. I don’t know who I am, let alone who you are,” I replied.
   “You're name is Annalise Sumner. You’re twenty two years old and an heiress to the Fitzwilliam banking family. We’ve been married for two years. I don't live off your money I have my own family fortune and my own computer software company. We had a world wind courtship and a quiet civil ceremony for our wedding followed by a big splashy wedding after our daughter was born,”he explained. 
   “We have a baby daughter?”I asked terrified. 
   “Not any more...,”he answered sadly.

©Sheilagh Lee October 1, 2014

To be continued

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Three Word Wednesday- Part 1- Awakening

Three Word Wednesday- Part 1- Awakening

Adequate, adjective: Sufficient, enough, requisite; acceptable, passable, reasonable, satisfactory, tolerable, fair, decent, quite good, pretty good, moderate, unexceptional, unremarkable, undistinguished, ordinary, average, not bad, all right, middling; informal OK, so-so, 'comme ci, comme ça', fair-to-middling, nothing to write home about; equal to, up to, capable of, suitable for, able to do, fit for, sufficient for.
Explosive, adjective: Volatile, inflammable, flammable, combustible, incendiary; fiery, stormy, violent, volatile, angry, passionate, tempestuous, turbulent, touchy, irascible, hotheaded, short-tempered; tense, charged, highly charged, overwrought; dangerous, perilous, hazardous, sensitive, delicate, unstable, volatile; sudden, dramatic, rapid; mushrooming, snowballing, escalating, rocketing, skyrocketing, accelerating.
Parasite, noun: Hanger-on, cadger, leech, passenger; informal bloodsucker, sponger, bottom feeder, scrounger, freeloader, mooch.

Part 1- Awakening

     My head ached and I wanted to snuggle deeper down into the bed and stay asleep, but that annoying clicking sound, along with the loud kind of explosive whooshing sound was just too much. Why couldn’t someone be quiet while you were sleeping?
I opened one eye and saw not my bedroom but an adequate hospital room. Adequate? That sounded judgemental and snobby was I that kind of person? My right arm had an intravenous needle in it and it throbbed.  Why was I in the hospital? Had I been in accident? Was that why my head hurt? I realized I couldn’t move my left hand opened my other eye and stared at handcuffs holding my left arm. I turned my head feeling slightly dizzy and met eyes with the pen clicker.

    “Shush,” I tried to say, but he didn’t hear me because of a breathing tube in my throat.

    His dark wavy hair was short and his eyes were blue and stared at me like I was bug under a microscope, a slight glare in his eyes.
He said nothing to me but yelled, “You better get in here officer. She’s awake.”
My head throbbed and I felt like I would throw up and I tried to motion for them to get something but it seems their minds were on something else.

    “Ms. Annalise Sumner, I’m Constable Bennett. You are under arrest for the murder of Raymond Markowitz.”

    I looked around for this Annalise and saw no other woman.  Terrified I tried to motion with my hands that I didn’t understand what they spoke of to no avail.  The man however seemed to understand and spoke silently with the nurse. The nurse then shoed everyone out and with a doctor in attendance removed the breathing tube and I was settled again. My stomach still churning.
     I felt like a parasite; something that had taken up root in a strange place where people I didn’t know droned on and on. That’s right didn’t know. Who was Annalise Sumner? For I didn’t know; I had no memory before I woke up here. How could I be under arrest for murder?  I didn’t think I was the type to be a criminal and especially not a murderer. And who was Raymond Markowitz the man they claimed I murdered?
      “It’s okay Annalise. Your lawyer will be here shortly.”
     “Who are you?” I whispered my lips barely forming the words since my throat was so dry.
    “This isn’t funny Annalise. You know damn well I’m your husband, Garland Sumner,” he cried.
    “I’m Annalise?” I asked.
   “Get that doctor in here,” Garland snarled, and then whispering in my ear he said,         “This better not be one of your jokes Annalise because I’m not laughing.” 

     I shook my head and pleaded with my eyes for him to believe me and it seemed he might, as he gave my hand and loving touch and then left to find a doctor. 
     I then promptly threw up all over the bed. A few minutes later after the linens were changed I attempted to process all the information I’d been given. None of it made any sense. How could I have killed someone?  I knew in my heart of hearts, despite not knowing my name, that I couldn’t kill another soul unless they were killing me. Was that it? Had this Raymond Markowitz tried to kill me? Yes, that made sense. All of this would work out I just had to relax and it would all come back to me. This was just a temporary aberration of my mind. If I went to sleep I’d wake up clear minded and know my name. I could do that just until the doctor came back of course and gave me answers I needed. I closed my eyes and gave into the sleep my body insisted I needed.

To be continued
©Sheilagh Lee September 24, 2014

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Three Word Wednesday - The Gravel Pits-Part 9 - Conclusion

Three Word Wednesday - The Gravel Pits-Part 9

Carcass, noun: The dead body of an animal; the trunk of an animal such as a cow, sheep, or pig, for cutting up as meat; the remains of a cooked bird after all the edible parts have been removed; the remains of something being discarded, dismembered, or worthless.

Geek, noun: An unfashionable or socially inept person; [usually with modifier] a knowledgeable and obsessive enthusiast; a carnival performer who performs wild or disgusting acts; verb: Engage in or discuss computer-related tasks obsessively or with great attention to technical detail; be or become extremely excited or enthusiastic about a subject, typically one of specialist or minority interest:

Slash, verb: Cut (something) with a violent sweeping movement, typically using a knife or sword; reduce (a price, quantity, etc.) greatly; noun: A cut made with a wide, sweeping stroke; a wound or gash made by a cut with a wide, sweeping stroke.

If you missed Part 1 click here
If you missed Part 2 click here
If you missed Part 3 click here
If you missed Part 4 click here
If you missed Part 5 click here
If you missed Part 6 click here
If you missed Part 7 click here
If you missed Part 8 click here

    This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. 

The Gravel Pits-Part 9 -Conclusion

     Just when she thought she might have lost him a hand reached out from in front of her and grabbed her saying, “Found you.”
     “Don’t panic it’s me Karl.” he said, “Are you okay Kathleen? He didn’t harm you?” 
       “I have some bruises, but I’m okay.” she answered, I'm so glad you're here.

      Kathleen relaxed for a moment in Karl’s arms that he put around her, but then she remembered the man was still out there.

     “I saw his car parked in front of the Sulphur springs, you weren’t in it and I saw him enter the woods so I assumed you were in here. I slashed one of his tires, but he's the kind of geek to drive on it. We better get moving to my car before he gets here. My car is that way,” Karl said pointing.

     Kathleen heard a noise behind Karl and then saw the man come into view. He swung a log at Karl’s head and then with the other hand reached out to grab Kathleen but missed. As Karl fell down, Kathleen ducked, grabbed a log herself with her other hand and swung it at the man connecting with his head. The man’s head bled profusely and he dropped like a stone. Kathleen bent over Karl and helped him up as he pointed the way to his car. Kathleen dragged Karl to the car where he insisted she drive.
      “I can’t. I don’t know how,” Kathleen protested.
    “You can do this I can direct you, but I can’t see well enough to drive. I’ve got double vision.”

     Karl then showed her how to shift the gears and drive before buckling himself and her into the car. Kathleen wanted to take him to the hospital, but Karl insisted they go straight to his dad. Kathleen floored the car driving as fast as she could to the police station, but it was at least twenty miles away and it seemed like forever as she drove. she was terrified but she would not let this man catch them she decided as her adrenalin kicked in.  Karl seemed groggy and Kathleen kept talking to him to keep him awake. Just before they got to the out skirts of London the man caught up to them and banged the back of Karl’s dad’s car almost pushing them off the road. Kathleen kept the car steady and headed towards the police station. Kathleen raced through the city with the man on her tail. Finally turning into the police station driveway, the car disappeared. Kathleen got out and took Karl into the police station.
    “Can I help you?” asked the policeman at the desk.

    Kathleen burst into tears and then still shaking, she blurted through sobs, “I....kid ...”
   “You’re not making sense miss. Did this boy hurt you?”
   Karl took Kathleen in his arms and let her cry into his shoulder as he explained, “I’m Karl Ward, my dad works here.”
   “Oh you’re Lieutenant Peter Ward’s boy,” the policeman acknowledged.
   “Yes, I am,” Karl replied.
   “So what happened Karl? Can you tell me while I summon your dad?”
  “This is my friend Kathleen Jones. You have a BOLO out on her. That weirdo that you look for, kidnapped her. You know the guy who may have killed that girl Gina Waterstone? I spotted his car and I found Kathleen running from him in the woods. He caught up with us and hit me on the head but Kathleen saved me hitting him on smack dap on the head when he tried to grab her again. Then we drove here and he followed,” Karl said.
   “Your head bleeds.  I believe you both need to go to hospital. Now is the perp still out there?”
   “No, he took of once we turned into the station. But he did hit the back of our car when we were on the highway outside of town. There may be some paint scrapings you could get there,” Karl said and then finishing he said, “My head hurts.”
   “And here’s help right on cue,” the policeman said.

     The ambulance attendants arrived and diagnosed the Kathleen was in shock and said that Karl needed stitches and probably had a concussion. They loaded the two teens up and into the ambulance.
     “I’ll have your father meet you at the hospital Karl,” the policeman promised.

    The teens were seen almost immediately, though Kathleen refused to be far from Karl; so they set him up in a bed near her with the curtain drawn so they could examine her.
   Great-Aunt Frieda arrived at the hospital a half an hour after the ambulance and crying she said, “Thank, God you’re alive.”
  After the tears and reunion took place, they recommended an overnight stay for Kathleen because of shock. Karl’s father arrived three hours later to find Karl sitting beside Kathleen’s bed holding her hand his head sewn with twenty stitches.
    “We got him. You’re safe,” Lieutenant Ward reassured them.
    “You got him dad?”
    “I’m safe? He won’t get out on bail?” asked Kathleen
    “No he won’t get out of jail. I’m afraid he’s dead.”
   “Good! I'd like to kick his carcass, ” Karl exclaimed vehemently, “How did it happen, anyway?”
   “He hurt Kathleen. He would have raped and killed her and he killed other women. He deserved to die, dad. you have to admit that,” Karl insisted.
   “No one deserves to die. Jail can be a terrible punishment. He tried to get away, but he was trapped and when he got out of the car he shot at us and my colleagues fired back. He died in a battle of gunfire,” Lieutenant Ward explained.
   “He can’t hurt me...”Kathleen said and then began to cry again.
   Karl went to her and hugged her again as the nurse came in and told his father and Karl that they had to go.
   “I’m not going home. Kathleen needs me,” Karl insisted.
   “It’s very unusual and I better be able to trust you young man. This young lady needs you for assurance only understand?”
  “Yes, ma’am,” Karl replied politely.
  “Fine then you can stay, but only if you lie down in that bed there. You have a head injury and should rest. She’ll hear your breathing and know you’re there. I’ll check you in a couple of hours,” the nurse said.
   Karl’s dad left smiling, reassured the teens were going to be fine and went back to work. In the morning Kathleen was escorted home by Karl and his father. Karl saw Kathleen to the door.
  “Terri is anxious to see you, but dad said she had to wait until tomorrow,” Karl stated.
   “Thanks for coming to save me Karl,” Kathleen said.
  “It’s nothing any boyfriend would have done. Besides you could have saved yourself. You are so brave,” Karl insisted.
  “Karl, are you my boyfriend now?” Kathleen asked surprised.
  “I’d like to be,” Karl said.
  “Then it’s settled you’re my boyfriend,” Kathleen claimed then kissed him gently on the cheek and said, “See you later, Karl.”
 “See you later Kathleen,” Karl cried planting a soft kiss on her lips and then leaving.

   Kathleen danced as she came in the house, “My first real kiss, because you can’t count Tommy Gunderson,” she called out to no one and then said, “I have a boyfriend and he’s handsome and older. All the girls will hate me. I love it!”
Then she giggled happily. Great-Aunt Frieda heard Kathleen’s record player turn on and the song ‘And then he kissed me’ by the Crystal’s come on full blast and sounds of Kathleen dancing around the room.

   Great-Aunt Frieda went into the kitchen made herself a cup of tea and took out a cookie from a batch she kept back from the bake sale. Great-Aunt Frieda smiled, Kathleen sounded herself again after that horrible kidnapping.She had come out of this with very little harm thank goodness. It had been a hairy situation but it was over.The boy Karl had finally declared himself. Karl was a good boy brought up properly he wouldn’t take advantage of Kathleen.  God had seen their family through this tribulation and all was right with the world. She could relax for a while until the next teenage drama, of course, hopefully not anytime soon.
      Next on her agenda making a fabulous picnic lunch for Kathleen; Karl and his family were meeting them at the gravel pits for a swim and a picnic. Time to make peace with the gravel pits and the terrible thing that almost happened nearby. They could make some new happy memories for the all the teens Terri, Karl and Kathleen. It would be a beautiful day the weather was perfect. If she hurried she could just about make her German potato salad in time, before she let Kathleen know about the picnic and swim.
The End

©Sheilagh Lee  September 17, 2014