A Clip From My #NaNoWriMo Work In Progress

[Author’s Note – If you find extreme acts of violence, and descriptions of such acts, disturbing, don’t read this.

What follows is a clip from my Work In Progress, being written for NaNoWriMo 2013. This work has been difficult for me to write. It contains extreme levels of violence, and touches on topics that greatly disturb me.

After several people expressed interest in the story, I decided to share a small clip.]

Frank grabbed Jessica’s hand, “Run!”

They did. But it was no use. The three men rapidly caught up to them. One grabbed Jessica’s arm, yanking her to a stop. Frank turned, and charged at that man. The other two men attacked Frank, striking him in the face, and chest. They quickly overwhelmed him.

Jessica didn’t know if Frank was alive or dead. At the least, she knew he was hurt. She felt fire ignite in her soul. She felt it raced through her blood. She dropped the bag she was carrying, turned, screamed, and struck at the face of the man holding her. She kept her fingernails extended. They tore into his skin, leaving long tracks as they ran down his cheek.

She screamed again, and kicked him, with everything she had, right in his male parts. He lifted off the ground, bellowed in pain, his hands letting go of Jessica’s arm as he reached for his injured crotch and doubled over, howling in pain.

The other two men circled her. “Oh. We got us a tough filly here, don’t we?”

“Yessir. We got a tough bitch here.” They separated, one on each side of her, knowing there was no way she could fight both of them. They were ready for her now. Not like the man she’d taken down. He hadn’t expected her to fight. The two men circling her were ready. There was no surprising them.

Jessica bared her teeth in a nasty snarl, so resembling of a wolf’s snarl, the men hesitated. Making a low growl, she turned from one to the other, waiting. Quickly, eagles filled the sky, circling. They waited. They did not intervene. They waited. They knew. She was finding her fire. Her strength. Her soul.

She was remembering who she truly was.

With no sound at all, she leaped toward the man to her left. He countered by leaping at her, his arms drawn back, beginning to swing. The other man started toward the two of them.

Jessica hurled herself toward the man, easily ducking past his wildly swinging arms, extending her fingers like wolf claws, and raking them across the mans neck, drawing blood. Lots of blood. Her nails torn, her own fingers bleeding, she ignored the wounded man, and turned toward the third member of the group.

He wrapped his arms around her, lifted her off the ground as he kept running. They collided with the side of a house. Jessica felt her shoulder separate. She felt her ribs crack. The man bounced off her, dropping her to the ground.

The pain fueled her fire. She kicked with her legs, her feet connecting with one of his knees. She heard the sounds of tearing tendons and ligaments. She heard him howl in pain, and watched him fall to the ground, his hands clasping his knee.

Jessica struggled to her feet. She went back to the bag, and found a hammer. She turned back toward the men.

The three men fled. Staggering. One holding his neck, trying to keep his blood inside his body. She’d torn the veins on the side of his neck with her fingernails. The one with the destroyed knee hopped along, desperately trying to flee. The third tried to walk, but was still doubled over from the torture between his legs.

Jessica hunted them down. She swung the hammer, like a sword. She struck the head of the man with the broken knee, right behind his left ear. The hammer sunk in, with a sickening cracking noise. The man fell, his body twitching.

She caught the man with the wounded crotch next. Planting the hammer in his left eye, like she was hitting a baseball with a bat. He pitched over backward, limply falling to the ground, not moving.

She swung the clawed end of the hammer at the neck of the third man. The claws sank into his neck, and she yanked, as hard as she could, using all her body weight. The hammer tore loose, and the man’s blood gushed out. He collapsed to the ground, his hands clasping his destroyed neck, his life blood spurting out, spreading rapidly around him.

She returned to the first two men, and made certain they were dead. She watched the third stop moving as his blood stopped flowing.

The eagles in the sky circled the scene. As they did, they screamed, declaring to the world, she was remembering who she was. She was finding her heart, and soul.

#ThursThreads Week 97: A Clip From My NaNoWriMo Work In Progress

Roses were such beautiful flowers. The way their petals spiraled around their cores. They way they started as buds, and unravelled, from the outside to the inside. The way the morning dew dressed up their blooms.

Jessica always marveled at how beautiful the roses were. But she knew, like all flowers, the blooms wouldn’t last. They’d be buds. Then full blooms. Then they’d turn brown, their petals falling away. Leaving just the sepal, and the ovary.

But while they bloomed, they were beautiful. She loved how they bloomed twice a year. Once in the spring, around April May and June. Then again in the fall, in September and October. Sometimes, even into November.

“Mommy? Why do the rose flowers always die so quickly?”

Sharon smiled, “Because they’ve completed their purpose. They bloom so the roses can reproduce. The blooms attract insects, like bees, and butterflies. The insects spread the pollen from the flowers to other roses. And the roses reproduce, making more roses.”

“But, Mommy, there are no insects. No bees. No butterflies. Shouldn’t the flowers stay alive until they get pon-i-la-ted?” Sharon saw the questioning look in her daughters eyes.

“Pollinated, dear. And no, they don’t. They live a few days. A few weeks at most. And then they die. Pollinated or not.”

Jessica ran her fingertips over the petals of a rose bloom. “They die too soon, don’t they, Mommy.”

Sharon nodded, “Yes, dear. Sometimes, they die too soon.”

241 Words @LurchMunster


I wrote this for Siobhan Muir‘s #ThursThreads, Week 97. It’s a little clip from the NaNoWriMo story I am working on. Hope you like it. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are good reading.

#RaceTheDate #3 : A Clip From My NaNoWriMo Work In Progress

“It don’t do us any good to be killin’ each other.”

Tommy looked around the room. It had taken a lot of work and time to get this meeting put together. He had the leaders from all the gangs in the south side of the city in one room. They’d all agreed to meet.

Everyone cheered, “Yeah! Yeah!”

“We get the leaders together, and make a board of directors, like they did in them businesses, and schools.” He paused while the idea sank in. “And we let the board settle our fights for us, so we don’t kill each other.”

The gang leaders spent all day arguing about how to make it work. Each leader wanted it to work to his advantage. No one wanted to give up being in charge. Tommy understood that. “As long as it ain’t an issue that causes us to fight, we do what we want. No one tells anyone what to do. We just have the council when we’re having fights with each other.”

They worked up a bunch of rules, and conditions. An old guy from the community college, wrote down all the rules on a big sheet of paper, so everyone could see them. Guys from other groups copied it all down, so everyone had a copy of the rules.

It was the first step in his plan. Tommy thought it went well. Organizing the gangs into a single, functional unit. It was a risky game. But if it worked out, he’d end up with lots of power. And could do anything he wanted. Take anything he wanted. And get rid of anyone in his way.

And what he wanted was to own the city.

@283 Words
Lurch Munster


I wrote this for Cara Michaels‘ #RaceTheDate #3. It’s a little clip from the NaNoWriMo story I am working on Hope you like it. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #RaceTheDate. They are good reading.

#ThursThreads Week 96 : A Clip From NaNoWriMo

The front door shut behind him, the thunk signifying the end of everything that had been, and the start of something completely new. Hank walked to the old Jeep he’d purchased with part of the money he got for the house. He’d be long gone before anyone knew what was happening.

He didn’t even look at the house. He got in his Jeep, turned it on, put it in gear, and drove away. He knew exactly what would happen when the new home owners arrived. When they unlocked that front door, and pushed it open.

The entire neighborhood would find out.

He drove for three hours before he stopped for lunch in a little town call Silver, at a diner called “Marcia’s Munchies”. He sat at the bar, and ordered a beer, and a burger and fries. As he ate, he watched the TV over the bar.

It was the Global News Channel. They had cameras on the ground, reporting on the home explosion, and fire in a suburb of Columbia. The fire was still raging. The explosion killed the new homeowners. A married couple and their three children. It destroyed 8 houses around it, and damaged nearly forty. Eight people were in critical condition in hospitals, including two baby girls. 35 people had been treated for various injuries.

Hank sat at the bar, and smiled. “It’s moving day.” He paid for his food, and continued his journey to his new home, in Kentucky. “It’s moving day.”

245 Words
@LurchMunster


I wrote this for Siobhan Muir‘s #ThursThreads, Week 96. It’s a little clip from the NaNoWriMo story I am working on Hope you like it. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are good reading.

#FTT 19 : A Clip From My NaNoWriMo Work In Progress

Jessica awoke in the grass, freshly mowed except for a ring around her body. It was the first time a lawn got cut and she didn’t get ill. She’d always gotten ill when her father had cut the lawn. But Uncle Tim had cut his yard, and she was fine. She’d fallen asleep on her blanket, in the backyard, and Uncle Tim had mowed around her.

She’d never even heard him.

Aunt April’s voice interrupted her thoughts, “How’s my tired niece doing?”

Jessica laughed. “I took a nap in the sunshine!” She didn’t mention how she always got ill when her father mowed the lawn.

“Yes, you did.” April chuckled. “I thought you’d certainly wake up with Tim mowing.” She shook her head. “But you slept right through that noisy mower of his as he carved a circle around you.”

Jessica couldn’t believe it. She’d slept right through the noise the motor on the mower made. And she knew lawn mowers were anything but quiet. “I’m sorry I was in the way.” She looked at the circle of grass surrounding her. It was easily an inch higher than the rest of the lawn.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, dear,” April wave a hand, “Tim will just cut it next week anyway.”

“But it’s not a perfect lawn.”

“Jess. With Tim mowing it, it never is.” She winked at Jessica, as if sharing a secret with her.

And Jessica laughed.

She liked her Aunt and Uncle very much. They had taken such good care of her. Aunt April took her to school each morning. And picked her up at school each afternoon. They always talked about what she’d learned in school that day.

And Aunt April could cook! Wow! Could she ever. She loved those frittatas her aunt made for breakfast. She’d never asked Jessica if she ate meat, or dairy. She just made them vegan from the start, using an egg substitute, and soy cheese.

Jessica asked her aunt, “How did you know I’m vegan?”

“Well, dear. We asked your mother several years ago.”

Aunt April actually took Jessica with her when she went grocery shopping. “I know you don’t approve of meat or dairy, Jess,” she’d explained, “But Tim and I aren’t vegan, so I do have to buy them.”

“It’s OK, Aunt April. I understand. Mom isn’t vegan either.”

But April made sure she bought the vegetables, grains and fruits Jessica wanted, and she bought plenty of them. Jessica hadn’t eaten so well at home, or in the center. “You’re a growing girl, dear,” was all her aunt said. And to be honest, Jessica felt better than she could remember ever feeling. She wasn’t hungry anymore.

Instead, she was happy. That was all. For the first time in forever. She was happy.

464 Words
@LurchMunster


I wrote this for Week 19 of Alissa Leonard‘s Finish That Thought. Please, go read all the creatively shared stories in this week’s challenge.

#ThursThreads Week 95 : This Place Is Mine

Hank stood on his back doorstep. It was his first weekend home from the stupidity of everything. He was fire-breathing angry about having been arrested for child abuse. He’d never laid a hand on Jessica. He’d just tried to get her to behave properly. He’d just locked her in her room to stop her from wandering around the neighborhood in the middle of the night.

He’d done that for her safety!

And it hadn’t been his fault she wouldn’t eat. She’d had the opportunity every morning, and every evening. He made sure she knew she could eat any time she wanted to.

The whole thing had gone to court. He’d been found guilty, of course, and sent to therapy. They took him from his home. Made him spend weeks in a hospital enduring treatment for no reason! He’d done what they told him to. And they let him out. And he was home.

He stood on his back doorstep, and looked at the back yard. Everything needed cutting, and edging, and his gardens needed weeding. He started toward his tool shed. “This place is mine!” He pulled out his lawn mower. “And I’m going to make it into what I want!”

As he worked, he felt his life returning to normal. He was happy his daughter, Jessica, wasn’t around to get ill, and cry, and get her headaches like she did every time he took care of his yard. Without her there, he could finally be normal.

248 Words
@LurchMunster


I wrote this for Siobhan Muir‘s #ThursThreads, Week 95. It’s a little clip from the NaNoWriMo story I am working on Hope you like it. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are good reading.

#MWBB 37 : The Ghost Of Stephen Foster

Shawn and April were daredevils. They loved exploring mountain trails, big, empty warehouses, office buildings, corner stores, neighborhood markets, city parks. You name it. They loved to explore it.

In October, 2013, they decided to take a new adventure, and spend each Friday night in October in a different haunted house.

For Halloween night, they found an old, abandoned hotel outside Wachapreague, in the middle of the woods, off an old road none of us had ever heard of. It was the Hotel Paradise. The locals all said, “It’s haunted,” and told countless stories of howling coming from the hotel at night. Sometimes it was an evil laugh. Sometimes it was crying, or screams. And people who stayed there never were the same.

On Halloween day, they met after work, piled into his truck, and drove across the Bay Bridge Tunnel. They ate a fast food dinner at a diner they’d never heard of somewhere near Kiptopeak, then drove to the Hotel Paradise.

Shawn grabbed the two sleeping bags, and April grabbed the bag full of munchies and beer, and they broke in. It was long abandoned, so no one cared. Inside, they picked out a room, and threw the sleeping bags on the floor.

The hotel was really just a two-story house, with extra bedrooms, and each bedroom could be locked. The bathrooms and showers were common, shared by all the rooms. It was a little hotel. The interior was dusty, and dirty. The floors were wooden, and footprints from previous adventurers were everywhere.

They took pictures with their phones, posting them on the Internet. Sharing their adventure with their friends. They found an old guest book, and had fun reading the names of hotel guests in it. Noting the last guest had visited in 1933.

Around midnight, April drug Shawn into the room they’d picked out. They’d both stripped, and had fun collecting memories of sexual adventures in an old, haunted hotel. Spent, they’d stretched out in their sleeping bags, and passed out.

Shawn woke up at 3 AM. “April!” he shook her awake. “April! Did you hear that?”

April shook her head, “Let me sleep,” she groaned, and she rolled over, and pulled her sleeping bag snug around herself.

Shawn sat up, and listened. He heard people. Talking. But he couldn’t tell what they were saying. He pulled on his pants, and followed the sounds out of the room, down the hall to the common shower.

The shower room door creaked as he pushed it open, and slipped inside. “Do you think he’s ready?” a voice whispered.

“Shut up, ya idiot. You’ll scare the rats!”

Two people stood next to him, at the room door. They were watching something. Shawn turned to see what they were looking at. It was a woman. Naked, bound, and gagged, on the room floor.

“The show starts soon.” One of the men declared, as he poked the other in the ribs.

“This’ll be good.”

There were scratching noises. Then the grate over the vent along the wall opened up. Rats started pouring through it. Dozens of them. Shawn watched, fascinated, as the rats formed a circle around the woman. Then, he screamed in terror as the rats leaped on the naked woman, and started eating her alive.

The woman thrashed, and twisted, and tried to scream. But she couldn’t. She was bound, and gagged. And helpless to defend herself, or escape. The two men watched. “Oh, she’s a tasty one, isn’t she?”

Shawn ran from the room, down the hall, to get April.

April wasn’t there. He called for her, and heard her scream for help. He raced down the hallway and stairs to the hotel’s main room where he found April, naked, tied to a chair. Rats were climbing up her legs.

Shawn grabbed her and the rats and ropes all faded away. April screamed as she raced out the front door of the hotel, and hit in the truck. They spent the rest of the night in his truck. The next week, they broke up. And neither of them was ever the same again.

682 words
@LurchMunster


This is my entry for week 37 of Jeff Tsuruoka‘s Mid-Week Blues-Buster flash fiction challenge. Please, go read the other entries in the challenge.