I'm a prisoner inside my home. And now even home no longer feels safe.
But maybe it was over; maybe Kern was right?
Lightning flashed outside. It lit the huge window in the adjoining living room and displaced the darkness, illuminating a collage of muddy footprints splattered across the carpet.
Jerry's heart convulsed.
His jaw trembled; his legs weakened.
"No," he whispered, clutching the railing for balance.
Darkness devoured the sight, but not before he saw the tracks proceeded up the stairs.
Then it came again, the noise he'd heard earlier.
Not wind. Not rain.
Someone moving through the darkness.
His skin went cold, and he whirled around, tracing the footprints back to the bedroom door, where they faded to nothing more than outlines on the carpet.
Margaret screamed.
"Not her," Jerry cried.
Bounding faster, he came through the door to find the source of his dread looming at the bedside, silhouetted against the far window. Margaret thrashed on the mattress, battling to free herself from a cocoon of bed sheets wrapped tight around her head and held fast by the attacker's hand behind her back. Her muffled cries came to him like the screams of a drowning swimmer.
The intruder stood silent, unmoving. Resisting Margaret's violent struggle elicited no signs of strain whatsoever.
"Get away from her," Jerry yelled. He thrust the gun forward. "You're not welcome here. Leave us alone!Go the hell away and don't ever come back."
Despite the strength of his words, a cold sweat beaded on his forehead.
"Need you," the trespasser replied.
"No," Jerry cried. "Find someone else to torment. I'm not going to help you. I can'tdo what you want."
Another flash of light played across the sky, and Jerry gasped at what it revealed: his old flannel shirt; Margaret's faded blue jeans with the patches on the knees. The intruder had taken the clothes off the scarecrow from their garden and now filled the mud-covered garments to the point of nearly bursting the seams. Jerry trembled at the nightmarish sight, mumbling "please" over and over again in a child-like whimper. His eyes searched the dirty burlap sack that made up the thing's head for the slightest sign of mercy, but no details had ever been added to the simulated head to create a face. The only response to his pleas came in the form of a blank, expressionless stare.
Thunder boomed, shaking the house around them.
The scarecrow extended its free hand, holding forward an old, wooden-handled shovel.
"No," Jerry mewed. "I won't."
The scarecrow's face wrinkled, creasing into a look of rage. "You have no choice!"
On the bed, Margaret's wild movements had dwindled to weak clawing actions.
" You're not supposed to be able to come here anymore," Jerry shrieked.
With tears slipping from his eyes, he sighted the weapon on the center of the wadded bed sheets and blew two bloody holes through his wife's shrouded head.
Then, acting before the maniac scarecrow could stop him, he rammed the hot barrel under his chin and fired again.
End of Preview...
~
Preview of:
JAMES ROY DALEY - INTO HELL
1
Carrie Paige's favorite duffle bag in the whole wide world had a picture of Kermit the Frog on both sides. The bag was black and cute and it said IT'S NOT EASY BEING GREEN on the strap and Carrie thought it was the greatest thing she had ever seen. She brought her bag into the backyard with her when she was playing with her dolls, and she was planning on showing it off on her first day of school, which was eleven days away. She was excited. Big kids go to school, her mother often told her. Big kids go to school and little kids stay home. Eleven more sleeps and it would be official; she would be a big kid. She was so excited she could hardly think.
Carrie reached into her Kermit bag and shuffled through her important possessions. This included a flower made of construction paper, playing cards, multicolored rocks, a bag of marbles, a handful of crayons and a plastic horse with a squished head.
The playing cards were alwaysin her Kermit bag. If they were out of the bag she had them spread around so she could see every card at once. They were very special to her. She cherished each and every one of them and as a result the cards looked like hell.
Her favorite boycard was the one that said READY FREDDIE.
Ready Freddie looked so adorable sitting at the kitchen table with a knife in one hand and a fork in the other that sometimes she kissed the card. Freddie had yellow socks, a green bandana, and his tongue was sticking up from his pencil-line lips suggesting that he couldn't wait another minute to eat.
Her favorite girlcard was FANCY NANCY.
Fancy Nancy sat on a pink-and-white striped chair. She had a hat on her head and a mirror in her hand and a purse that looked like a teakettle. Carrie imagined Ready Freddie and Fancy Nancy getting married someday and having babies that looked just like them.
Other cards she loved included Jolly Jean, Corny Carl, Lady Luisa, Skinny Minnie, Jumping Jack, Scary Harry and Slim Jim. Then there was the OLD MAID. Nobody liked the Old Maid. And because nobody liked her, Carrie decided she liked the Old Maid just fine. It was only fair. And her mother always said if you can't play fair, you shouldn't play at all.
Carrie pulled a photo album from her bag and put the bag at her feet.
The album had a picture of three Care Bears on the cover: Love-A-Lot Bear, Tenderheart Bear and Bedtime Bear. Care Bears were okay, but they weren't half as good as Kermit and were nothing next to SpongeBob.
SpongeBob SquarePants and his best friend Patrick were amazing. If she were a resident of Bikini Bottom she would eat at The Krusty Krab every day, just to play Old Maid with the pair of them.
She opened the photo album, which held one picture per page. She flipped through the pages slowly; then she lifted her Coke can from the cup holder and sucked a mouthful through a straw like she was in a drinking race.
After she put the can back in the holder she said, "I hafta go the bathroom."
Stephenie was thirty years old and looked a whole lot like her daughter. Not so much now, but when she was Carrie's age the resemblance was spooky. Back then she was cute. Today she was beautiful. She had subtle features, a slim nose and lips that were neither thin nor full. On a day like today she fixed her hair and Carrie's hair the same way: in adorable little pigtails. The twosome looked so delightful it made you want to barf.
Stephenie said, "What's that? You need the bathroom?"
"Yeah."
Stephenie slid a hand along the steering wheel, looked at the gas gauge and said, "Okay. I need to stop anyhow. I'm almost out of gas." She stuck her tongue out and made a silly face and for a moment, Carrie thought her mother looked like Ready Freddie.
Carrie said, "Really?"
"Yep. The gas gauge is telling me it's time for a fill up."
"Are we going to run out of gas? Madeleine Nyssa said that her daddy ran out of gas when they were going to their grandpa's house and they had to call a doctor to get some help."