The Usual Writing...

                Silently I came up behind her, my hand on the hilt of my gun. She barely came up to my knee caps as she sat there, her legs crossed. Her soft brown hair blew lightly in a non-existent wind, the little red bow moving with it.

                The basement was silent. A single hanging bulb flickered above the young girl’s head. As I slowly circled her, I could see her childish features. Her cheeks were full and blushed, while her nose and mouth were small and gently rounded.  Her big eyes stayed closed though, hiding the emerald green irises I was used to.

                “Carolyn?” I asked tentatively and quiet. I resisted the urge to hug her, to just hold her tight and tell her everything was going to be okay.

                I inched closer, reaching out my hand to her face.

                “Please, Carolyn, tell me you’re okay.” Then room went cold in only a second. Goosebumps went up my arm and chills crawled down my spine. Her eyes flickered open, revealing pure black orbs inside. Her mouth was now a cruel smile, the teeth had transformed into rows of white incisors.

                “I’m fine, daddy, I promise,” she said sweetly, her voice threaded with innocence. I choked down a sob as I brushed a stray hair off her face.

                “I’m so sorry, Carolyn,” I said, my voice cracking and soft, “I know you’re in there somewhere, Carolyn, but this isn’t you.” I could see her weight slowly shifting forward, towards me.

                “What do you mean, daddy? Of course it’s me, I’m Carolyn,” the thing said.

                “No, you’re not my little girl, you’re a monster, a demon,” I asserted, starting to feel hot tears down my cheeks, “and you took my little girl from me.” Without warning, she leapt onto me, digging her long nails into each shoulder with her feet on my chest. A dark, horse cackle erupted from her, echoing throughout the small basement and up the stairs. I had to remember; this was not my Carolyn. I pulled my handgun from its holster. This was not my Carolyn. I flipped off the safety. Not my Carolyn. I pointed it at her chest. Carolyn. I pulled the trigger.

                The blast left my ears ringing as the two of us went opposite directions. I stumbled backwards, running into the brick wall behind me. Carolyn went flying backwards, landing square on her back with a bullet hole straight through her heart.

                I let myself slide down to the dusty ground as I listened to her last waking moments, her breathing was labored and sounded as if she was gurgling water. I let myself cry as she took in her last wisp of air, then went still.               

                With the last amount of will power I had, I went over and picked up her lifeless body from the puddle of scarlet. Her eyes were wide open, but they were now a dull green without any vibrancy or emotion. I was glad, strangely, for at least I knew that in the end my Carolyn had been set free. 

The End

Dave awoke to the pungent smell of freshly stirred earth, and the sight of Alec’s face silhouetted by the starry night above. It was a calm, almost peaceful look. His eyes, his golden brown eyes, shone with a gleam of interest, resembling that of a dog when it cocks its head to the side.

                “Alec, what… what happened?” Without a sound, Alec stood up and hopped out of the grave.

                “Hey,” Dave cried out, trying to get up. Tightly tied around his wrists, ankles, and chest were straps, pinning him to the bottom of the plush coffin.

                “Hey, let me out of here!”

                Returning to the edge of the grave, Alec peered down with his satchel over his shoulder and a shovel in his hand. He reached into his bag, digging for a bit before pulling out a small, black device. He tossed the device into the grave, right into the corner above Dave’s head.

                “It’s a mic, so I can listen to what you have to say.”

                “Listen to what I have to say? I’ll tell you now, just let me out of this damn hole!”

                “No. That wouldn’t work. You have to die for it to work.”

                “For what to work?” Dave asked.

                “My experiment. I’m doing work on how people act in their last moments.”

                “Well you don’t have to actually kill me! Just… just let me out, I’ll answer any questions you have, I’ll help! Just let me out!”

                Smoothly, Alec dipped his foot into the grave.

                “Too late.”

                He kicked the top of the coffin, causing the lid to slam shut. With a look of utmost relief, Alec took a deep breath through his nose, then sighed, smiling. The sound of screaming was dull, masked by the thick coffin lid. And, thankfully, the dirt was much easier to put back on top of the coffin rather than digging it up. It was only a minute or two of scooping before the screaming was completely muffled by the layer of dirt.

                Alec stretched out, cracking his knuckles and neck, before reaching into his bag for one last thing. It was a black notebook, weathered and well used. Slowly, with a clear look of satisfaction, he began flipping through the pages. Each one was labeled with a page number, and at the top was a name clearly written in large blue ink, followed by a scribble of notes. He went through two pages, five pages, ten. It wasn’t until number thirty four that he came to a blank page.

                He pulled a plain blue pen out of his pocket and popped off the cap. In clear, neat writing, he began writing at the top of the page: ‘Dave G. – The Grave Robber’. 

The Grave Robber Continued

“Do you mind if I asked what happened? Or is that too much?”

                “They were murdered I believe, or at least that’s what I was always told.”

                “That’s… That’s terrible. I’m sorry I asked.”

                Another shrug.

                “Here,” Alec said, taking a sharp right onto one of the narrow side paths, “I think the grave is this way, if I remember right.” Dave let him walk ahead for a moment, watching him as he went.

                Alec, noticing he was walking alone, turned back to look at Dave.

                “Yes?”

                “Are you alright?” Dave asked.

                “Yes, why?”

                “That just seems, I don’t know, kind of-“

                “Traumatizing?” The two men stared at each other for a moment, Dave trying to read what Alec could possibly be thinking. Alec’s expression was just frustratingly vague though, a fogged up window to what lied beneath the surface.

                “Ya,” Dave said, “traumatizing. That’s the word.”

                “Do I seem ‘traumatized,’ to you?”

                Dave gaped for a second, opening his mouth only to close it, afraid to say the wrong thing.

                “Well, no, no,” Dave said, readjusting the bag on his shoulder, “just nervous is all. You seem nervous.”

                “Well I am, especially with the stories that have been going around. So let’s just get the job done, alright?”

                “Of course.” Dave hurried forward, catching up with Alec as they continued through the forested grave yard.

                With Dave’s bright flashlight leading them, it was only a few minutes before they found the grave they were looking for. The tombstone was a bright marble rock, smooth and new, with minimalistic engravings. It was in a small clearing near the back of the cemetery, one that was overgrown with weeds, many of the other graves being too weathered to even read. Behind them was the now pitch black path, and fifty yards to the sides and front was nothing but untamed forestry.

                “I hope your right about this guy,” Dave said, dropping the bag of shovels to the ground.

                “I am. He’ll have a good amount on him.”

                “Let’s get to work then.” With no other words they each took up a shovel and slammed it into the cold hard earth, beginning their work. In only a few minutes both were working up a sweat, puffing like steam engines in the frosty air. Nothing was more satisfying then when, after ten minutes of digging into the deep grave, Dave’s spade made a resounding thump.

                He smiled and stood up, stretching out his shoulders and back.

                “There we are, almost time to collect!” He looked over at Alec who seemed completely still, as if he was daydreaming.

                “Hey, bud, we’re here. Let’s get this done!”

                “Over there. A man.” Alec was still frigid, almost stuck in time, he was so still. His eyes were focused, wide and dilated.

                “Huh?” Dave turned around, glancing about the clearing, gripping his shovel a little tighter in his hand.

                “I saw him. He’s in the woods.”

                Intently, Dave looked into the woods at the edge of the clearing. He watched as the wind blew, ruffling the leaves and shifting the shadows. He hadn’t felt exposed until now, as he realized that they could be being watched from afar with ease.

                He listened to the wind. The sound of the rustling leaves.

                All was silent.

                There was no warning or pain when the shovel met the back of Dave’s head, as he fell to the ground quietly. 

The Grave Robber

“Well, it ain’t nothing’, I s’pose,” Dave smiled gently, revealing a pair of well-worn laugh lines. “Ya up for a bit of wanderin’ then?”

                “Do I have a choice?”

                “Nope!” Dave clapped him on the shoulder, then opened the car door in a burst of cold air. It was the type of cold that washes over you like a wave, freezing you quickly before settling deep in your bones.

                Dave walked around to the back of the truck, his breath steaming in short aired puffs. He tugged on his heavy woolen gloves before grabbing the burlap sack out of the cab, throwing it over his shoulder with the sound of clanging metal.

                “Let’s see if we can’t find your grave,” Dave said, coming back around to look at Alec. He was thicker then Dave had expected, still skinny, but even under his black Northface jacket you could see he had a bit of muscle on his wide frame. More now than ever, he was jumpy: twitching his leg; fiddling with his over the shoulder satchel; looking this way and that.

                “Come on, let’s get a’movin’ then.”

                “Alright.”

                Together they set off down the cobble path, side by side through the huge metal gates. As soon as they entered, the world turned a shade darker, the moonlight hidden by a thick canopy of trees that flanked the path.

                “Spooky, ain’t it?” Dave asked, nudging Alec with his elbow.

                “You sure you’ve never ran into anybody here?” Alec asked, clutching his bag. Dave cackled, a large sound that echoed through the whole yard, a cannon barrage compared to the cricket-filled silence before.

                “Ya worry too much, bud! If I tell you we’re good, then we’re good! And I’m telling ya, I’ve been going in an’ out of this county’s cemeteries for comin’ on forty years, and I’ve never seen another soul out here at this time a’night!”

                “Why?” Alec asked, nearly a whisper.

                “Hmm? Why what?”

                “Forty years. Why’ve you been doing this for so long?”

                Dave kept walking for a moment, saying nothing and shining his wide beam flashlight straight ahead. He shifted the bag on his shoulder, clearing his throat.

                “Well, ya see, I started when I was just a boy, about fourteen. My father had passed just a few years before, wh

Dave stopped, taking a slow breath in through his nose.

                “I don’t know why my mother let him wear it around, but she did. All I know is that when my step dad gave in to a brain tumor, I was getting my damn ring back.”

                The two men continued walking down the dark path in silence, Dave looking straight ahead with a knot in his jaw and Alec continuously scanning left to right.

                “You really hated your step father, didn’t you?”

                “You could say that, ya.”

                Another moment of silence.

                “Why, did you have someone like that?” Dave asked.

                “No. I never knew my parents.”

                “Oh,” Dave said. Alec simply continued walking and looking around with paranoia, showing no sign of indifference. “I’m sorry to hear.”

                Alec only shrugged.

My new story P.1

This sucker is a long one guys, roughly about two thousand words in length, a good portion of that just being straight dialogue. I'm still going through revisions at the moment, so I'm gonna give you the raw first draft (which, not to brag, is still not bad. I can put out some decent first drafts) and see what you think. It's called 'The Grave Robber,' enjoy!

“So,” said Dave, “How do ya know Tim?”

                “We met,” said Alec. Dave looked at him with a raised brow. After a moment of silence he looked back at the road, shifting his grip to the left hand and settling his right on the clutch.

                “That’s a little vague, don’t ya think?”

                Alec only shrugged, still keeping his eyes straight forward.

                “Well, how’d ya meet him?” Dave asked.

                “It was… well… it was on the job.”

                “Oh! Well that’s an interestin’ way to meet someone!” Dave laughed a little, something that sounded more like a mix between panting and a grunt. “Y’all share a grave or somethin’?”

                Alec nodded silently, beginning to fiddle with his satchel.

                “Get much?”

                “Yes,” Alec said, turning. His eyes were a soft golden brown, like melted butter. The eye contact was short, but strong. It was almost startling; the weight that his gaze held and the intelligence that it carried.

                “Oh?”

                “Couple hundred for both of us,” Alec said, turning back towards the passenger seat window.

                “Not too shabby, kid!”

                Another uninterested shrug.

                “So how many times have ya been out?” Dave asked.

                “Not much.”

                “Nervous any?” Alec stayed quiet, but as Dave glanced over he saw that he’d began shivering. Dave gave another signature grunt-laugh.

                “I’ll take that as a yes! No worries though, I’ve been going out ever since I was a teen. Never had trouble, not even a pinch.” He paused, getting no response from Alec except the same old fidgeting and silence.

                “Ya know a lot of people are really scared about stupid things like zombies or ghosts, but I’ve never had anythin’ bother me in all my years! Hell, this whole disappearin’ story doesn’t even bother me. We’re two men, I think if someone tried messin’ with us, we could handle ourselves, eh?”

                “Yes, ya, I’m sure we could,” Alec said, taking a slow, shaky breath.

                “Well, speak a’the devil,” Dave said, pulling into the dark parking lot. “St. Ricord’s Cemetery and Crematorium.” Dave parked the old pickup, the engine shuttering with a sound like mechanical cicadas.  

                “You got the map, bud?”

                “Huh?”

                “The map, Alec, do ya have it? This ain’t no small grave yard, ya know!”

                “Oh! Uh, one sec.” Alec opened up his bag, shuffling through a clearly unorganized pile of papers and gadgets. He pulled out a phone, an old leather wallet, a dirty BIC lighter, and a pack of cigs, muttering things under his breath.

                “Well? We don’t have all night bud, ya got it or no?”

                “Here!” Alec said, flourishing a well folded piece of paper. He quickly unfolded it, floundering with his shaky hands.

                “Where we headin’?” Dave asked. Alec squinted at the paper, pointing his finger here and there. A full minute passed before Alec looked back up.

                “Oh,” he said quietly.

                “Huh?”

                “Uh, here. You see.” Alec handed over the map to Dave. The thing was big, with scrawling in blue ink and small font all over. Clearly titled at the top of the sheet, it said ‘Glade City Cemetery.’

                “Ah, I gotcha. You’re just a dumbass.”

                “Pretty much.” 

Sharing is Caring

Yo, so man its been awhile since I've blogged. However, I have been pretty dang busy since my last blogs. Besides the usual school stuff that is. I've started putting my nose to the grindstone and pumping out some creative writing, one short story and a bit of poetry here and there, so I thought a good way to get back into the swing of things would be to share with y'all a bit of my poetry that I've been working on. I hope you guys enjoy them, if not then feel free to tell me why! Next post will be me sharing my newest short story and seeing what you guys think of that, so until then, peace.

-Ink

Moonlight Garden

(Revised)

The bell-petaled flowers

Were light purple,

Shaded plum under the meadows darkness.

The wind, cold Canadian wind,

Made them move and mutter,

To the tune of trembling violin strings.

His hands played like a spider

Bustling about its web,

Each intricate strand entrancing the shadows.

The air was full of sound,

High, ascending melodies,

Remote, to full for drab roars and patters

As the world turned orange

The song dissipated

Into stillness, rays shining on the grass.

The sun now a cherry

On the shores of Lake Superior.

Icicles

Shining, it hangs in the air with your frosted breath and joyous thoughts,

A frozen angel: pure; delicate; and natural, a wonder to behold.

Its smooth, hilled surface distorting the world around us.

Oblivious, we walk underneath, without a thought

Of what bliss and beauty is above our head.

Until droplets begin to fall to earth

And the air fills with crackles.

Then, we begin to notice,

As it all comes down,

And before we

Know it, it

Shatters.

Then we see a warped weapon of nature,

Dangerous and sharp, cold to touch,

Leaving only shards in its wake.

Yet sunshine comes again

And melts it all away.

As warmth comes

Left in the wake

Is only a mere

Puddle.

Review of The Babadook

So, as promised, here's my first review of a horror movie. Lets jump right in.

The Babadook tries to make some emotional ties right away in the beginning, as we're immediately introduced to the two main characters; a single mother and her child. The mother, who is clearly worn out and tired, works a nine to five job which involves taking care of dementia and Alzheimer patients, only to get home and take care of her feisty seven year old son. Although he's not just a normal sassy little boy, he has a strange obsession with monsters, which is where our story begins. One night, after a long day, the mother takes her son to bed where she begins to read him a book that he chooses. Unsurprisingly, he picks a book she's never seen before; The Babadook.

She begins reading it to him, and although it appears childish in nature, in begins having terrifying images and ideas; talking about a monster that seems nice at first but then kills you.

Of course, that's where things start to turn sour in a classic horror movie fashion, except it it strangely isn't. The boy in the movie slowly begins to get more and more rowdy, claiming that the Babadook is real and that he's seen it before. In the beginning, it could honestly just pass as a child having an over active imagination and the mother getting irritated by it. The one of the scariest parts I think, that it is so perfectly normal and understandable in the beginning. However, about two thirds of the way through the movie, we see the characters roles begin to switch. The mother, normally calm and cool, begins to break down under the stress and pressure. She keeps her son out of school, becomes isolationist, and finds herself unable to sleep almost all the time. Her son, in the meantime, keeps assuring his mother that the Babadook is real, and that he's in the house, however is very calm and collected in his methods.

Up to this point, the whole thing has been mostly expository information, however the tension it builds up as we finally see our characters alone in the house with this thing is extremely incredible. We never actually see anything besides small shadows and sounds until this point, making us even wonder, is the Babadook real? Or is this just a spawn of the child's creativity and the mothers insanity? Once you get to this point in the movie though, things become real real quick.

The Babadook IS real. It even predicts the outcome of the movie during one scene, when the original book reappears on her doorstep. The mother, scared as hell, reads it with horror. The book, using only its childish tone, talks about a mother who's possessed, snaps her dog's neck, strangles her son, and then kills herself. Talk about foreshadowing, eh?

In the climax of the movie, we watch in horror as the mother is seemingly possessed, then, with a strange calmness, snaps her dogs neck like it's nothing. Then she chases after her son, trying to kill him the whole time.

The amazing thing about this whole movie though, it has zero jump scares. I don't really know how they did it, but they made a movie that's scary and suspenseful as hell without a single jump out of your skin moment. All in all, there really wasn't anything I could point out as being wrong with this movie. And, since we're getting into the movie mindset, I'll rate it a solid eight out of ten pens. You know, because my names ink? Ha... Ya I cringed right there too. But really, a solid horror movie. Anyone who's feeling ready for some nightmares should definitely give this a watch. Until next time guys, peace.

-Ink