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You can find all of my work on Royal Road now

If you’ve wondered what I’m about, I’m not just a blogger─ I write novels, novellas, and short stories. (when we aren’t adventuring with our stories on Twitter.)When I have time, I record podcasts and audiobooks for all of you as well. Occasionally, I will post my work on here for you to read but I thought it a good idea to post where you can find all of my work!

I’m aiming to become published, (so that I can write and do podcasting for a living) but until I become one of the lucky few to do that, I like to share it with others. It gives me real joy and excitement to create these worlds for all of you.

If you would like to see what I’m about, you can find all of my written work here. 

I don’t have all of my work up, but I am working toward getting it ALL slowly uploaded (I have to sort through tons of stuff) but I should have it all up in the next month.

If you’re familiar with my work and you’d love to support it, this is a great site to do it through, or through my Patreon page.

For anyone and everyone that takes time out of their day to read my stories and check out my work, thank you.

Have a wonderful Tuesday

❤ Grey

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Hell’s Gate Awakening – A Fantasy Novel

If you would like to read this in it’s entirety, you can find it here. 

 

“My Goddess The Moon Can be as Bright as The Sun,

But She is Only a Reflection.” 

Her eyes flew open, the magnitude of the dream still lingering in her vision. The swirls of darkness lulled above her bed, the last of it lazily rising from her still form. Celeste pressed her eyes closed, willing it away. Please just leave, she pleaded silently, you aren’t real─ you can’t be real. She opened her eyes and focused her vision. The last of the fluid seeped into the ceiling, leaving behind a discolored smudge on the surface. A rustling sounded and she turned her gaze to John. His hair stood out in stark contrast against the sheet─ a sea of black that kissed the golden beach. She frowned, her eyes shifting to the ceiling. Celeste had longed to feel a connection with others, especially with John. But now, she wasn’t so sure. The thought genuinely terrified her.

John sighed softly, and then turned on his side. Her eyes returned to him and then moved down to the chiseled lines along his back. Her eyes lingered on the pale flesh, frowning at the twin scars behind his shoulder blades. Once back when they were first dating, she had mistakenly reached out and touched the marred flesh. He had jerked away and then moved to cover himself. Since then, she mostly kept her curiosity to herself─ but now as he rested, they were open and bare. Celeste couldn’t help but stare.

 Her vision blurred for a moment and she closed her eyes drawing a deep breath. She remembered it like it was yesterday, the first time his lips had graced hers. It had been an exceptionally cold winter last December. They had spent the weekend in her Father’s cabin along the slopes in Aspen. It was John’s first time to travel anywhere. She remembered his infectious grin as he stared up to the sky, marveling at the large flakes as they swirled to the ground. 

 Celeste would never forget how John’s face glowed as they sat by the fire. He was reading his favorite bits of poetry as she lay in his lap. This had been where he found much of his inspiration for his work─ poets that wrote anonymously. He had a real fascination with people not claiming their own work, or working in secret. Celeste never knew where he found them, but they were full of insight, and sorrow─ many speaking of an alternate universe or hidden worlds.

That weekend trip was the first moment she knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She had always felt something that drew her to him, some force of nature. But as she laid there, watching his face light up as he talked about the meaning behind his latest poetry obsession and tying it to the possibility of a multiverse, she knew he was the one.  

John’s sculptures were profoundly beautiful. Among his regular clients, he was considered a modern Bernini. Known for his exquisite attention to detail, most of his works were portraits of mythological creatures and people. John’s ability to capture other’s lives brought many to tears, including herself. It looked as though the stone could simply stand and walk away. Every detail was hand-molded, even down to the flaws. His stone fabric flowed as if it was a real garment.

His sculptures were something to behold, but John’s paintings were even more so. The colors blended in a way that you would swear it was a window into another world. A secret one, far better than our own. It was otherworldly─ just like him.

Celeste’s attention returned to the present as her gaze fell to the addition on her left hand. Surrounding her finger was a silver band with a princess-cut solitaire. A blood red stone sprouted from the center. It was made from garnet, her birthstone. She had never found diamonds appealing, the lack of color reminded her of death. Her eyes shifted to the Baroque paintings and décor in the room. Father spoiled her too much. He knew it was her favorite period in art and made it a point to collect things for her over the years. Each piece of furniture that surrounded her was dainty and hand-carved from dark mahogany wood.  She adored the crushed red velvet that lined the chaise that was next to the fire. It was her absolute favorite. Every night she would curl up with her blanket and book in hand. Celeste knew it was old-fashioned. Most of her friends had some type of reader or listened to Audiobooks. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something magical about holding a book next to the fire. It brought back memories from her childhood. Mama had read to her every night. She would download the app eventually, but for now she was content with paperbacks.

 Celeste looked over and smiled at the crimson drapes along the windows. It was her first real purchase, one of the few things she could be proud of. She had to defend them constantly against her friends. They said it made the room look like something out of a Dracula novel. She stuck her tongue out at them mentally. Let them think what they wanted─ she preferred it this way. 

Shadows drifted along her marble sculptures, Celeste’s eyes stopped on the one close to her dresser. Deep shadows encased the young mother and child holding hands. It was as if it welcomed them into the shadow realm. She relaxed, thinking that maybe this time the dream left her with nothing to fear. The dreams were coming more frequently now, each more menacing than the last. Her head tipped up to the ceiling again and she stared uneasily at the smear and frowned. It was still there. Were they just dreams? Maybe there were warnings of things to come. 

She jumped at the loud tapping sound on the side of her window. She tensed, straining her ears to see if she could hear anything else. When the sound happened again, she released the breath she had been holding in.  It was the Japanese maple her father had planted some years ago. She closed her eyes, listening as it brushed lazily across the house─slow and rhythmic. Celeste had always been fond of them, so for her twentieth birthday, her father had surprised her with one for her housewarming party. Shaking her head, she grinned at the stubbornness of the old man. No matter how many times she refused his gifts, it only strengthened his resolve to do more.

A crackling came from the foot of the bed and she jerked toward the sound. Celeste half chuckled, half sighed in frustration, feeling foolish. It’s just the fire place, Jesus get a grip, she scolded herself. It was one of the major selling points for Celeste. Even though she lived in Texas, and winter lasted all of two or three months, she used it every year. The fire place acted as a sort of divider, separating the small library from the bedroom. It was designed to provide a reading nook on one side, but kept the space open enough that she could see outside through the bay window. 

Unable to sleep, Celeste stretched and pushed back the covers. With cat-like grace she slunk from the bed, careful to not wake John. Grabbing her robe from the chaise she quickly glanced back at John before slipping from the room. Out cold, she mused. 

Celeste emerged from the long hall, her attention shifting to the left. The robe unclasped as she came to a halt, revealing a petite frame beneath the billowing gown. Just to the left of the French doors sat her mother’s piano─ an oasis of red against the desert-colored walls. The keys were worn, but she could never replace it. Celeste knew it was silly, but somehow the thought of restoring it would feel as if the last of her mother would disappear. Her hand trailed the length of the case, and then slowly pulled it back─ revealing the ivory keys. She sat and placed her slender fingers on the cool surface. A millisecond passed, and she began. The chords started shaky and uneven as her mind struggled to remember the notes. Finally, it smoothed itself out and she eased herself into the composition. Celeste swayed back and forth lost in the melody. There was something familiar about it. She couldn’t remember when, or how she had learned to play it─ and yet, the song now flowed easily from her fingertips. She strummed the last chord, blinking back the wetness that had gathered at the corners of her eyes. The air was heavy with silence. It left her longing for the past. Why did you have to die? Celeste wondered. Her mother’s smile flashed through her mind. You were always so warm, she thought.

Celeste rose from the bench and glided from the piano to the patio doors. The Moon’s light drew her in and she pressed herself into the glass, longing to feel the night on her skin. She clutched at the doors and thrust them open. The Moon sensed her, emitting a soft hum as it pulsed─ her own life force felt as if it was joining with it. She stared openly, captivated by its beauty. She didn’t want to, but finally tore her eyes from the glowing goddess. She crossed the threshold into the cool night air. The wood felt soft and warm beneath her feet, it was similar to the feeling of packed dirt. She walked five feet to her favorite spot on the patio and eased herself down.

Celeste stretched out her arms and leaned back on the wooden swing, her legs dangling. Her skin shone like porcelain in the moonlight, further emphasizing her doll-like figure. She stared down from the patio ledge─ the wind gently combing through her long, obsidian hair. She swept a strand from her eyes, troubled by the thoughts that traveled through her mind. She looked down to the untouched gardens─ at the plant life swaying to the Earth’s sigh. It had been years since Celeste felt so normal─ so nice. John was the best thing that had happened to her this past year.

Then what was this feeling slowly curling in the pit of her belly? It was naïve to think that somehow the curse had vanished and that maybe, John had something to do with it. She cringed as thoughts began snaking through her mind. They undulated and curled, twisting around her head. She gasped, as it bit down, pumping the venomous thoughts throughout her brain. No more, she silently begged. Please. She moaned, clutching her head. John, please, no. The thought echoed through her mind over and over until it lost its meaning. She hugged her knees to her chest as the tears flowed. Images of people lost to her flashed within seconds of one another, their faces full of contempt. You did this to us, they seemed to say. Smiles leered from the dark cracks and crevices. They were calling to her, a mix of jeers, and begging. She couldn’t make out a single thing that was being said, it was all a jumbled mess. 

Then suddenly there loomed a sea of faceless demons behind them. The silence was heavy in the air as they drifted closer. There was a low, menacing hum, amplifying with each of their steps. They lashed out─ their grip ice cold against her flesh. She panicked as they drew their frigid limbs across her frame. Her mind screamed in agony as each entity burned through, trying to be heard. It was so cold that it burned. She prayed that it would stop, raising her hands up to her ears and squeezing them tight. All sound ceased, and in a flash─ they were gone. Celeste sighed, her hands falling to the sides. The earth trembled, then turned on it’s side. She screamed, her hands shooting out and gripping the swing as the violence continued. In seconds, something flashed before her, something far worse than before pushing it’s way through. Celeste stared at the face of pure evil─ at death. She was face to face with what the others must have seen seconds before it had claimed her friends and family’s lives. Celeste was looking into the eyes of Hell. It was soulless─ a deep, black pit. The tunnel stretched, and stretched into nothingness. She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but it was there inches from her face. The black death. It was that same smudge, that tar that had oozed from her ceiling. The darkness released her finally as the remaining images roared across her mind like sirens to the damned. Unable to stand it, her eyes shot up to the pure, heavenly body as she pleaded to the sky.

Kami-Sama, please.” Celeste drew herself up on the railing and looked down. She spoke again, this time with feeling “Please, let this end.” She clasped her hands together, her eyes glued to the massive glowing orb. The goddess flickered, and then grew brighter. It had acknowledged her plea, she felt it. She pressed her eyes together and filled her lungs with the wintry air. It was crisp, and clear. All at once, the idea came to her and she knew what had to be done. A breath, then a blink, and she threw herself from the edge. Like an angel her white gown flowed behind her, the illusion of wings on her dark form. For a few precious seconds, she felt the cleansing glow from the Moon’s light. How she longed to be bathed in Its purity. It wrapped her in Its loving embrace, cradling her delicate figure. Child, my child, It seemed to whisper. The sounds of the passing cars filtered through, their drivers’ unaware of the fast descending girl meeting her end. She felt the wind, and peered out at the sprinkle of lights. Each twinkling, pale yellow glow held families. Families that lay dreaming, and warm in their beds. Celeste smiled. It was the right thing to do. The last of her thoughts were swept into the wind as the deafening blow reverberated down the street.

 

*              *                *

The loud thud woke Celeste from her dream. She bolted upright, pulling the sheets from her chest. Her hands ran along the length of her frame as she made sure she was still in one piece. Her hands moved around her throat and she swallowed thickly. It felt extremely dry, she must have been screaming. She glanced around, confused for a few seconds before realizing that she had fallen out of bed. A dream, she thought bringing her hand to her face. She got up and sighed, apologizing to John about the scream. She paused and frowned at the empty space on the bed. He hadn’t come over tonight. Then Celeste remembered John had mentioned a meeting early in the morning with a client. He had probably stayed at his place Downtown. She picked up her phone to check, and then placed it back on the stand? Of course not, she thought. It had been a week since she last heard from him. She was beginning to wonder if they were still dating. Her mind switched to the dream. What did it mean? She wondered.

Celeste glanced down at her barren hand. Why had she dreamed that John had given her a ring? He had asked questions about how she felt about marriage, sure, but he had not asked yet. Maybe one day, she thought wistfully. Or you’re just fooling yourself, she added. John had been spending long hours away from her lately. It wasn’t as if marriage defined her, or she would simply fall over and die from not being married. She just─ wanted to. It was beyond the whole tax thing, or paperwork. It was something she had dreamed about since she was a girl. It was a dumb, old-fashioned sentiment but it was hers. Things had just felt right with John. Or her ovaries were wreaking havoc on her decision making. Stupid hormones. She had the University to keep her busy, and her piano students, but it wasn’t enough to fill the emptiness she had been feeling. John was still warm and loving with the time they had spent together, he just wasn’t always there mentally. She was being silly. They were, after all, both happy. Wasn’t that all that mattered? Maybe she was being too quick to judge. John had been working hard lately and daddy hadn’t been much help, telling John to ‘get a life and a real job.’ Sometimes her father could be a huge traditionalist and it bugged the crap out of her.

Celeste crossed the room and walked out to the kitchen. Her throat felt like needles had been jammed into it. Her hands shook as she grabbed for the edge of the counter. I’ve never had a dream like that before, she thought. Celeste snatched orange juice from the refrigerator, gulping it down. She was wiping her mouth when a series of booms erupted at the front door. She relaxed, realizing that it was knocking. Then she scrunched her face in confusion, looking at the time. Who could be here at this hour? She wondered. It was four a.m. 

She left the kitchen and slowly walked down the stairs to the front entrance. Standing on her tiptoes Celeste peeked through the peep hole. It took her a minute to focus as she flipped the outside light on. Sighing, she unlocked the door. It was her neighbor Sally. Probably heard me screaming my lungs out, she guessed as she pulled it open. Standing before Celeste was a very unhappy Sally─ arms crossed, and a scowl in place.

“Celeste, what on God’s-green-earth is going on over here? It’s four o’clock in the morning and I have to take the boys to school in a couple of hours.” Celeste opened her mouth to respond but did not get a word out before Sally talked over her, “Not to mention, oh, I don’t know? you scared the bejesus outta all of us.” It took all of Celeste’s strength not to giggle at her neighbor. She pronounced ‘bejesus’ with a southern drawl. She started, realizing that it wasn’t just Sally standing outside. 

Celeste leaned out and glanced at several of the neighbor’s worried faces. She waved nervously and apologized. “Sorry, everyone, I had a horrific dream.” They didn’t budge. One of her neighbors stepped forward and spoke. He had an air of confidence in his speech, someone that took to authority well, “Ma’am, I don’t mean to get in your business, but─” he shifted from his left leg to his right, glancing up the stairs. “That was some yell. It woke up half the neighborhood.” His eyes rested on hers and he softened his tone, “Only reason I didn’t call it in is because I wanted to make sure before I went bothering anyone at the station.” That’s right, now she remembered─ her neighbor was a police officer. She frowned, trying to remember his name. Was it Geoffrey? No that didn’t seem right, George maybe? They all stared at her quietly and she realized they might be taking it for something else. She quickly shook her head, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten any of you. It was honestly just a bad dream.” The man nodded, appearing relieved and walked over to his wife. She waved again, her face feeling like the surface of the sun.

She winced, as Sally hadn’t moved from the doorway. Jesus, did the lady have an ounce of tact? Glaring down at her, Sally opened her mouth to speak, but Celeste quickly interrupted, “I’m sorry I woke you and your family, Mrs. Henderson, I’ll try to keep it down.” Nodding, she looked up at Sally, giving her best ‘I’m sorry’ look and pulled the door toward her. Sally, like Celeste knew she would, put her foot in the way. She always had to get that last word in. Celeste yearned for the polite neighbors in Japan. No one would have dreamed of behaving this way, let alone keep doing it.

“Well, alright,” she boomed, “Can’t be too careful these days, what with all the murders going on.” Sally ran fingers through her frizzy hair, her eyes darting outside, then back to Celeste conspiratorially. The curls took on a life of their own as the copper strands bounced around Sally’s face. She had that kind of hair you wanted to reach out and touch. Her light mood darkened as Celeste thought about the locals. Now it made sense, the neighbors weren’t just concerned about a scream. They thought─ oh god. Now she really felt awful. She made a mental note to write an apology to everyone, maybe send them something. 

The deaths were a great shock to the local community. It was all her students talked about on campus anymore. Every time she turned on the news it seemed like there was another murder. So far they had uncovered seven bodies. Were they ever going to catch this guy? All the victims shared the same appearance─ dark hair, younger, and petite. The main connection was how they were murdered. Each was found in some type of water and drained of blood. It sounded like some sort of lame vampire flick.

When Celeste didn’t respond Sally cleared her throat and added, “I just wanted to make sure, you know?” She paused and peered over Celeste’s shoulder, looking inside. Sally had one of those large frames. She was solidly built, but lumpy, like a sack of potatoes. Her eyes, though a vivid blue, were much too small and set close together. She appeared to be in her late forties, possibly early fifties, but wore clothes that no self-respecting sixty-year-old would touch. She looked like something straight out of a bad 70’s film. Sally was a bear of a woman, but honestly, it didn’t take much. Celeste had the stereotypical Japanese build. But that’s where it ended. Her features were a blended with large, expressive brown eyes. She had a more round nose, yet a petite jaw line. Her hair was a soft black, almost brown, and her skin a peachy-white. She was tormented maliciously in Japan, they called her half-breed. It was something Celeste was very self-conscious about. At least here in the States with her adoptive parents, kids had been slightly more forgiving. 

Her adoptive mother, Kotone, had shared a little about her past. Celeste had always assumed that an American soldier had fathered her, or a European man. She long came to the conclusion that she probably brought shame to her real mother─ so her biological mother had given her up for adoption. All she could do was guess, she had never known the truth. Celeste had the kind of frame that people found adorable. If only they knew how annoying it was to have to use a step ladder every time she needed something. Forget trying to see anything at a concert. 

She stared at Sally, sizing her up. The old minx would have put Nancy Drew to shame. She may have looked frumpy, but that’s where it ended. Sally had that keen sensibility about her, the kind that missed nothing. Celeste noticed that the old woman had checked both her shoe rack, and the coat hanger at the front door. And while, she definitely appreciated it this time, she didn’t normally. For as long as she could remember, Sally was at her front door snooping around and asking questions about her life. Especially about John. He had a tough exterior, but was gentle as a kitten. It was a shame that people had the habit of only seeing with their eyes. She forced a grin, and bowed, “Thank you again for your concern, Mrs. Henderson. I am fine.” Saying good night and apologizing, she firmly closed the door.

 

I will be posting this on royalroad.com

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Recipes moved to my food blog – Link below!

Hey guys! I’m slowly working toward moving all my recipes over to the new food blog. It’s a work-in-progress, but I’ll have them up as soon as I can.

Pinterest

Food Blog

So what happens to this blog? I will keep this as articles, and stories so it doesn’t become confusing for people that are following this for the articles and writing. So, easy peasy─

This blog will be for writing and podcasts, and the food blog will be just for food!

I hope you guys have a great week, and I look forward to posting tons of fun stories (and spooky stories with the holiday’s coming up) and audiobooks.

Take care all,

❤ Grey

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Someone left their cellphone in my store. I shouldn’t have unlocked it. A horror short.

Warning** This is NSFW and for some, NSFL. ** Reader beware.
Let me start by saying, I’m not a nosy person─ and I’m definitely not a thief─ so when I first noticed that the customer had left their phone, I ran outside to give it back to them. We’re located in a little strip-mall shopping center, so the parking lot is literally right outside.
Here’s where things began to get weird. The parking lot, was empty.
I tried to rationalize it. Maybe they had been picked up and drove away.
Maybe I hadn’t walked outside as quickly as I thought I had.
I’m telling you I had myself relaxed and snacking on some beef jerky within 10 mins of that man leaving.
Notice I said it began to get weird.
You probably won’t believe me. How can you, you weren’t here?
Please, don’t judge me─ I’m begging you. I need to tell someone my story. Because there is no way in hell anyone will understand.
Especially when they come for me.
It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when.
September is an especially slow month in retail. I’ve been working in it for nearly ten years and every year is slow as hell around this time. When I say slow, I mean one customer per three hours kind of slow. The only people that tended to walk in were personal shoppers, or old people. Everyone buys shit online now.
Which leads us to my next predicament.
It started as a little jingle in the drawer. You know, one of those little trills an app makes when it gives you a notification or a reminder? I was pretty annoyed at first because it reminded me of my own app I use to buy and sell stuff online.
By the third chime, I scooped up my phone to turn off the notifications. I was super annoyed because I had just finished selling my prized books and marked them as sold. I was already sore I had to get rid of them and it was marked as sold. Jeez buttholes, leave me alone. But it wasn’t my phone. In fact, I hadn’t even received any spam mail or texts. So that got me curious.
It’s not your phone, I reminded myself.
After the dozenth trickle of messages, and no calls, I decided to go ahead and pick it up. I mean, why not? It probably had a finger print lock on it anyway. I thought about just shutting it off, but then thought better of it in case the owner called the phone looking for it.
Personally, if it were mine I’d just use a phone locator and ping it.
The guy had seemed older though. Maybe he didn’t know how to.
The red notification indicated that there were more than a thousand messages waiting for a response. Whoa. So it was the same app I used. Whatever this guy was selling, it was super popular. The most messages I’d ever received on there was when I gave stuff away for free. I bet he was doing just that.
I wish I could say that I put it back in the drawer and went about my business the rest of the day─ and to be fair I had the first hour or so. But the messages just kept coming.
Every few seconds triing.
It was really getting under my skin and at the same time peaking my curiosity. Over a thousand messages waiting for you, and still counting. What the hell was he offering?
OK, I reasoned. Maybe I just take a little peek.
I pulled down on the screen and then tapped the app. To my surprise, it logged in. The tab for messages was at the bottom and I shamelessly opened the top one.
Is this still available?
??
Hello?
I squinted at the thumbnail. It was pale flesh colored and looked folded up. From the image, I couldn’t exactly make out what it was.
Well, I had gotten this far.
I tapped on the picture and waited as it pulled it up.
It appeared to be a jumbled mess. I still couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. It looked like a piece of furniture straight out of a Halloween shop. The feet looked like they were made of actual feet. The rest of the─ chair? Was made out of various body parts all sewn together. For reference, the seller stood next to it and you could see him from the neck down. I recognized the same shirt he had worn into our store.
OK.
Not what I was expecting, but couldn’t be what all the messages were about. Disgusted, I clicked on the messages again.
The next photo was more disturbing than the last. I retched and quickly closed the picture.
Holy. Shit.
This guy was fucked up. I needed to call the police right away.
You bet your ass I was going to, until this next part.
I had my phone in my hand, when it went off. First, it rang.
I do what I always do when I don’t recognize the number─ I rejected the call.
Big mistake.
My phone shut itself off. I mean, straight away. It was like by rejecting that call, I shut off the power instead.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when the store phone rang. I was shaking, but put my game face on and picked up the phone.
“Thank you for calling─”
“Why didn’t you pick up the phone?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Well, you were so enthralled by my apps and going through my private messages but you couldn’t pick up your phone?”
“Jesus.”
“Yes, I suspect you’ll pray to him soon enough.”
“You’re a piece of shit, and I’m going to call the police. Right fucking now.”
“Are you?”
I swallowed a few times in confusion. “What the fuck is wrong with you man? That’s a little kid. That’s so fucked.”
He laughed at me. He actually laughed at me. The kind of laugh that makes you think they know something that you don’t.
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that you touched my phone with your bare hand. I’m also going to take a guess that all the cameras in your store don’t work.”
I was completely silent. He had me there. But it didn’t change the fact that this was his phone, with his info stored on it. All of it was stupid, he was just trying to scare me.
“Fuck you. You don’t have shit on me” I shouted.
He paused and then chuckled. “Call the police, Richard. Go ahead.”
The line went dead.
Shaken, I replaced the phone back on the cradle. What the fuck was going on? He wanted me to call the cops. Told me to. He knew my name. I glanced down at my shirt and then sighed in relief. I’m a fucking idiot, my name was on my shirt.
I was going to nail this asshole. The cops would take me seriously, it’s not like I would call the police on myself if I were guilty. I felt sick to my stomach as I heard the cute jingle going off repeatedly. How old did these people think that child was? Chained up like that, covered in─
I bent over to the trash and puked until I couldn’t any more.
First thing’s first. My hands shook hard but I managed to take a few breaths and steady them enough to pick up the phone. I dialed 9 when the phone lit up.
“Call the police, Richard. Go ahead.”
I hung up the phone and picked it up. I’m ashamed and glad that I did. It was a text. A text from someone labeled ‘mom’.
Hey hunnie, I was thinking about making a pizza tonight does that sound good?
My eyebrows creased as I looked at the message again. Mom spelled hunnie that way. My mom.
But this wasn’t my phone. I picked up my own, unlocking the screen. It was still blank. I searched through my apps frantically looking for my Twitter, Facebook, Instagram. I sighed as they popped up. I clicked on my instagram and frowned. It was asking me to login. I tried to select to login with Facebook and sighed in frustration when it said my account wasn’t found.
What the hell?
The phone next to me went off again.
Hey dude,ustill going to come this weekend?
I got the doritos if u can snag some cokes.
The name on the text read JB. His name was Josh, but he’d always hated it and went by JB. We all knew that. I also knew that we were going to have a chill online stream with him, me, and his followers. Fuck.
Fuck this was all wrong.
I grabbed the phone and looked at it again. It was exactly like mine, a black galaxy s8 with a black cover. A black cover with a WW logo on the back just like mine of my favorite super hero. I clicked on app after app, all logged into my accounts with saved passwords from everything.
This guy had every password I ever owned, all logged onto this device under my name─
with my fingerprints.
Oh fuck, oh god. I swear to you guys it wasn’t me and I didn’t.
I couldn’t do that to anyone.
Especially a child.
#
Guess what? I’m back and wish that I had better news.
Yesterday went by uneventful. I still haven’t called the police. There is an image waiting for me on the new phone. I’ve tried texting and calling on my other phone, the one that was mine just yesterday. It just hangs up immediately and telling me that my text messages aren’t going through.
I’ve tried everything from resetting it (even factory resetting) and turning it off, and then on. Even weirder is the fact that I can’t download anything on it, even on wifi. It’s like the thing all of a sudden bricked. I think I’m going to go ahead and get a new one later today after my shift.
Since last night until this morning the messages haven’t stopped. I told you guys earlier that if I attempt to uninstall the app, it starts appearing in my email. I mean, full messages with images and all. I glanced through a few of them and quickly deleted them all.
I’ve changed every single one of my passwords, my bank account, all of my social media accounts, and got a new phone number. I was a little late coming in today because of it.
Did you just read that? I said I changed my phone number and all of my accounts.
That’s why I thought I had escaped this.
Until I pulled into the parking lot less than ten minutes ago.
tirring
I couldn’t believe it. Could. Not. The messages started pouring in again, one after the other just like before.
Who in the actual fuck is this guy and how is he transferring my stuff over like this?
I had this all figured out. I was going to attempt to do my research tonight so I could have a solid leg to stand on when I called the police. But the more I’ve asked people, the more they let me know it was in my best interest to just start my life over and not mention it.
I’m so torn. I want to do the right thing, but how can I when I know that it will mean years of convincing juries otherwise? And some definite jail time for me while proving my innocence. Even if I don’t get jail time, I’ll spend years of my life in and out of courtrooms. No one will believe me. I’ll be labeled a serial killer, or worse maybe a pedophile. I haven’t looked at more of the pictures, but the ones I did see were enough to lock me or anyone away forever.
All that blood.
This next part I’m sharing with you─ the one that made me lose the contents of my stomach─ well, you probably should stop reading this. Now.
My hands can’t stop shaking. I can’t make those images go away, I have to tell someone.
What I’m about to share with you, you can’t un-see. So just be warned, reader. I gave you a warning, so this next part is on you.
Those poor children. They are being forced, they have to be. God knows what else has happened. They’re all skin stretched over bone. The look on their faces. I don’t mean to be crude, but I can’t find any other way to relate to what their eyes show─ have you ever seen someone that has just died? Or maybe a junkie that has OD’d? Their eyes have this really weird glaze over them, like a film. I only know because my father OD’d on heroine and then later died. His eyes looked the same, moments before he stopped breathing.
This child in the photo had that very same look. The same eyes. The eyes just before death. They were covered, and I mean covered, in blood and─ parts. Human parts.
It gets worse. Remember, I tried to tell you not to look at this.
Some of those parts were large, they looked like they belonged to an adult. Then there were─smaller chunks. Please, don’t make me say it. Fucking christ. It was other children.
Do you know why that child was covered in blood?
I want you to think long and hard about starving. Really starving. Like the kind that will leave you desperate to ingest dirt or bugs, literally anything that gets near you. That is the level of thin this poor child looked.
Not only were they covered in who knows how many other parts of any known age, I haven’t gotten to the reason for not getting any sleep last night, or eating anything since then. It’s all I can think about─ all I can see. I mean, this is really messed up.
The child was also eating itself.
I can’t stop crying, I don’t know how I’m going to make it through work today. I know tomorrow is my day off, so if I can just pull through this six hour shift, I can have a whole day to do something. I’ve heard of reverse image searching, so I know if someone has ever posted from this image address it might show up again. Right? Maybe give me an idea of where this guy is located. I mean, that’s how it works I think. I could be horribly dumb or wrong, but I think it can find it if it’s been posted before.
If I can somehow prove that this has been done before my social media or emails were created (and I suspect he must have been doing it for a long time) maybe I have a snowball’s chance in hell to prove this was all being pinned on me.
I’m grasping at straws and I know it.
#
I finished my work day somehow. He hasn’t messaged, or called me anymore. I still haven’t had the courage to look at that image. That text message with the ‘?’ on it and ‘image attached I told all of you about earlier. I don’t think I have the heart or the stomach to see what this psycho has prepared for me. Or what he’s doing in my name, on my accounts.
I’ve mostly grown immune to all the vibrations in my pocket throughout the day. I don’t trust throwing it out in case he’s watching me, but I don’t want to destroy it because it’s evidence. I’m still clinging to some belief in human compassion. Maybe people will believe me.
But even as I think it, I know they won’t. I have to actually prove they exist somewhere I can’t get to. I could get lucky, he might be another state away.
#
I’m sitting at my computer at home now when I discover the truth.
He isn’t in another state, neither are they, and I now know that I am unequivocally fucked.
In fact, it could be a neighbor for all I know. It’s in the same fucking area as my house. And I’ve only managed to reverse image search two of the pictures. The one’s that I’d already seen.
How long has this been going on? Has he been watching me this whole time?
I’m beginning to wonder if it isn’t me doing all of this and if I even believe myself at this point.
#
It’s my day off and now I have something else to worry about. My mother is missing, she never came home last night.
Her job called earlier asking if she was coming in. I didn’t even know they had the landline number.
I always thought it was strange that we were probably one of the few families that actually still had one.
I was a little worried when she didn’t show last night since we had planned to have a pizza and watch a movie. I didn’t get too worried since she’s a nurse and sometimes has to work odd shifts. She also gets shit reception, so a missed text wasn’t really that big of a deal.
Not coming home the next day, or showing up for a shift? Big deal. My mother is the sort of woman that hasn’t missed a shift since the 90s. Pretty sure she isn’t going to mess up that track record.
I don’t want to admit it, but I’m pretty sure me ignoring that image has everything to do with this. He isn’t going to stand for being ignored. Apparently, I didn’t learn this the first time I didn’t answer his call.
I’ll admit it, I thought this could have been a prank. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was thinking this had to be JB doing some stunt for his Youtube. He’s pranked me before. I grew sort of suspicious after the reverse image search showed up in my neighborhood and my phone was bricked. I thought maybe he had put my phone as the ‘new phone’ and maybe gave me a bricked phone.
Though admittedly, he’s not really a genius and he wouldn’t do something as disgusting as this. Denial has been strong in me since all of this is happened. I’m looking for any way possible way to not have a choice in this.
I know it’s shameful, but I don’t want this kind of responsibility. I didn’t ask for it. Why did this asshole pick me?
He’s forcing me every step of the way and by ignoring him, I’m just pissing him off.
Now my mother is suffering for my own ignorance. It’s one thing if it’s me, but she doesn’t need to be hurt because of it. That woman does everything for me. She has since my Dad decided that drugs were better than his family.
Now I’m getting mad. Mostly I’m confused, but my anger is slowly mounting at the sheer arrogance of this asshole. OK, squeamish or not, I’m going to have to look through more of these photos and reverse image search these. Maybe they’ll give me some kind of clue. Maybe they’ll give me something.
My answer was another text message. I knew better than to ignore it this time.
I snatched it up and opened the message.
Maybe you’ll do better at not ignoring me this time,it read.
There was an image above it. I recognized the chair immediately and my mother’s favorite pair of sandals. I clicked the image and braced myself.
She looked better than I thought she would, the only thing I noticed was a few small bruises by her left eye and a thin trickle of blood from her head. But her eyes were closed, which meant he had hit her hard enough to make her unconscious. My mom wasn’t super old, but I knew that a head injury on a woman that was nearing her 50’s to not be a good thing.
I’m so angry, I’m barely able to respond but I take a few breaths and type,
Alright, you have my attention. What do you want?
His response? A single smile emoji. Seconds go by, and then minutes. I’m to the point that I’ve chewed off all of my fingernails and even drew a little blood before the next message sends.
1309 David St, come through the side gate, bring no one.
Enter the back door and sit at the kitchen table.
Put your hands on the table, and do not move.
If you call the police, I will kill her and then I will kill you.
#
Fuck, you guys. I’m actually doing it. I know it’s got to be a trap, I mean, it has to be. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that this man is going to do exactly as he says he will. Even if I do manage to call the police, he will kill her. Then, who knows how long until it’s me. I have the sinking feeling that if he is able to do as much as he has with the phone he’s given me, he’ll easily be able to brick and delete everything on it.
I would be the prime suspect in all of it and he wins, again. He knows that I’m at his mercy, he is toying with me and I can’t do anything about it. I may be on my way to my death, but I do exactly as he says.
#
My hands are resting on the table. There’s a strange odor that’s filled the house. It doesn’t smell bad, in fact, it smells absolutely delicious. The room smelled like something similar to a chicken pot pie. I could smell flour, carrots, onion, maybe some─ I sniff at the air again─ garlic? And there was another smell, like a rich and creamy smell. It was heavenly, and despite what I had been through in the last 48 hours my stomach audibly growled. I guess it had been a while since I’d actually eaten anything.
“Richard, I’m so glad that you could make it.”
His voice sounded different than I expected. I expected it to creep me out, or make my skin crawl. It was pleasant, like an older gentleman that was talking to an old friend. I immediately stared down at the table, careful to not look over at him. He was standing in the doorway.
“Oh now,” he tutted, “there’s no reason for that. You can look at me, I won’t harm you.”
I kept my eyes glued to the table, sure that this was some kind of trick. I’m really thrown by this nice guy act. He sounds genuine, like he really wants to be nice to me. My stomach twists in knots.
“Really, I won’t do you any harm. I just wanted to chat.”
“And, my mom?” I stutter.
“I promise I won’t harm her if you look at me. I prefer to look in your eyes. You can tell a lot about a man by looking him in the eyes. I prefer it.” His words were friendly, but there was an unspoken warning there. “You are a man, aren’t you Richard?” Now he’s insulting my manhood, but it’s his other words that lead me to think that I should listen. Not the insult.
I nod and tilt my head up and then stare right into his eyes.
I was right, he’s older but not super old. His eyes are kind, large and a pale shade of blue. He’s got creases just around his eyes, the kind of wrinkles you get from years of smiling and easy living. He’s dressed in a blue polo with khaki shorts and brown loafers. He looks the epitome of a well-off dad that just got back from the store. His hair has grayed a bit near his temples and he has a slender, yet masculine jawline. He doesn’t look particularly strong, but you can tell he keeps himself in shape.
It’s what’s in his hands that intrigue me. Two bowls with equal looking pies and forks sticking out.
He pads over and sets them on the table, scooting the one from his right hand to me.
My stomach rumbles again as the smell reaches my nose. It smells so damn good. I eye it warily as he digs into his own. After eating a couple of bites from his, he sighs, sticks the fork into mine and takes a scoopful into his mouth.
“Eat, Richard. You’re going to need your strength,” he says soothingly.
I don’t really want to, but I know this is part of his game. Control, power─ These sort of guys thrive off of it.
I stare down at the golden crust and smooth, creamy soup-like filling. Despite it all, he’s right. I do need to eat.
He smiles, raising his eyebrows and leans in, “don’t be shy, it’s homemade. None of that store-bought junk here. Made it just last night, popped it in the freezer and baked it a little while ago.” He stuffed some more in his mouth, “You’ll love it, I promise. It’s my mama’s recipe, she won best-in-state with this a few years ago.”
I picked up the fork and cut into the crust, there was an audible crunch as I scooped it out. He wasn’t joking about the flavor. The crust was perfectly flaky and buttery and the inside was creamy and smooth. It might have been that I was hungry, but this had been the best meat pie I’d ever eaten.
He smiled over at me, “how does it taste?”
I’m still baffled by him, but I nod, “it’s good.” I scoop more into my mouth, “really good,” I add.
He’s all grins from ear to ear and slaps the table, “see? You thought I was fibbing, didn’t you?” He leans over his own and shovels a bit more.
I grin nervously and relax a degree, looking around. I hope he hasn’t harmed mom too much. I don’t know what this man is planning or what he wants to do with me, but I know that I know too much.
I swallow a few times, take a breath and start my plea, “Please, don’t hurt her because of me─”
“Let’s not talk business over food, now, this is sacred,” he interrupts angrily. “People these days, they don’t understand about hunger. You can walk down the street and see the obesity.” He clicks his tongues a few times, “they raise their own damn kids the same way. Oh─” he covers his mouth, “please excuse my obscenities, that wasn’t very gentlemanly of me.”
I nod, shaking my head up and down like an idiot. As if he needs my permission. “Although, you’ve got a bit of a mouth on you too, don’t you young man?” He asks. I nod again. He eyes my fork hovering over my bowl, long enough that I get the point and quickly spoon some more into my mouth.
His easy smile returns and his face relaxes. I eat quietly, my eyes returning to the table. I thought about what it was he was saying, a knot of dread forming in my own stomach. My own mother was pretty heavy set for her height, she looked like she could have been close to two hundred pounds and was always fussing about losing weight. She’d tried different diets over the years, but would constantly sabotage herself and eat candy or cookies. I think she gave up some time ago.
So he didn’t like people that took food for granted, or over-ate. Was this why we were being targeted? I’m not thin as a rail, but I was nowhere near heavy.
“Most parents I get don’t deserve their children. They take care of themselves, you see,” he says. “I have to teach those children and parents a lesson about not taking life for granted. He leans back and finishes the last bite of his food. He neatly dabs at his mouth with the napkin, sets it down and then crosses his arms.
I’m about halfway done with my own when I finally get to the meat. The veggies had been extremely delicious, but the meat─ it was unlike anything I’d ever had. It was moist, yet firm and fell apart in my mouth. It had sort of a game-y flavor, but it wasn’t bad, I could tell it had been marinated or possibly pressure cooked to make it juicy.
“Well now, you’ve made it to the best part,” he chuckles. “That is a secret family recipe right there. Mama was so hung up on it, she’d never tell any of us.” He sighed and brushed at invisible crumbs on his pants, “except me.”
I nodded, trying not to say anything that would upset him more. Until just a few moments ago, you’d think this guy was just some pig-headed old man stuck in his ways. I know the reality behind his snake-like southern charm and the anger that really seethed below.
I want to get out of here. I want him to spit it out and tell me how I can save my mother, whatever he wants. I’d even kill if I had to. Not like my life isn’t already ruined. After several long minutes I finish the last of the pie. I follow suit and clean off my face and hands, then sit with my hands folded and wait.
He surprises me by extending his hand, “there’s a good boy. Alright now, go on and say your peace.”
There’s a large lump in my throat and I’m sure he can see me visibly shaking. He knows I’m scared, he knows he has me. Secretly he must be jumping for joy at the chance to watch me squirm. I want answers. I want to know why me, why all of this and why he has chosen to ruin my life. I’m just some guy trying to get by. I want to ask all of this, but I can tell he’s testing me and that I’m going to have to do this his way.
“What do you want from me?” I ask. I try to sound as non-threatening as I can, hoping to appeal to some form of his human side. If he has one.
He smiles at me again, but this time it’s another sort of smile. One that makes me believe that he already has what he’s looking for. Then, as if reading my own thoughts he says, “Oh, I’ve already gotten that. You see Richard, I’ve been doing this for a very, very long time. I’ll do it again once you’ve left, and I’ll get away with it.” He paused, inching closer, “Don’t try to find me, don’t be brave and just live what life you have left to. You’re free to go on about your way.” I sit very still, staring across at him.
“What do you mean? What about my mother?”
His grin gets wider. “She’s here, don’t you worry.” It’s not what he said, but how he’s said it. Like a game he’s playing with a child who doesn’t yet understand the rules.
He leans in real close, so close that I can smell his breath. It lingers in the air, the sweet smell of carrots, potatoes, and the delicious meat.
“Tell me again, Richard. How did you enjoy the meat pie?”
─To Be Continued? Maybe. The killer is still out there.
❤ Grey