Monday, October 16, 2017

WEP - DARK PLACES = GARGOYLES


THE SUPERMARKET TABLOID
FACT OR FICTION



“I knew it! Halloween night is when they fly. The man-eating gargoyles that prey on unsuspecting girls.” My ten-year-old brother Tommy said in earnest.

I laughed. “Don’t be stupid, gargoyles don’t exist.”

“Yes, they do!” He insisted.

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Witch. I’m telling mom you called me stupid!  They do exist, and this proves it. He threw the paper at me and stormed off.

“Tattletale!” Younger brothers can be so silly. I picked up the supermarket tabloid that he’d left behind and read.

“Footprints in the snow are all that remain of thirteen-year-old Martha Belkin. On Halloween night her parents claim they heard her scream and swear they saw a large bird carry off their one-hundred-pound daughter. Police are investigating …”

I stopped reading. Chilled as though a winter breeze were blowing. I stared at the photograph. Footprints in the snow ended several feet from the barn. I could only imagine Martha’s terror. Was there a flying creature capable of carrying off children? I stared at the deepening darkness above the trees outside. I was sixteen when my brother warned me to beware of the monsters, that haunt the night sky …”

“I’m sorry, Jenna,” my boyfriend Rafe interrupted. Although a great story. My question had to do with how you decided to find a cure for hemophilia.”

“I was getting there.” I playfully punched Rafe, on the shoulder. It’s Halloween, and that is where it all began.” I studied the faces of our dinner guests.

“Please go on, Jenna. I’m curious as hell now. How did a story in the National Enquirer influence your goals?” Greg, my chief lab technician, said.

“Yes, please tell us. I’ve got goosebumps. Did they find little Martha?” Jane, my assistant, asked.

“No. Never. Nor have they found the other children that disappeared under similar circumstances.”

Whispers of shock circled the table. “You actually investigated?” Greg asked. I could hear the doubt in his voice.

“I researched every story, as well as the mystery and mythology of the gargoyle. I found an old text that claimed the gargoyle kidnapped and farmed adolescent children for their blood. And an inordinately high number of these abductions were of children afflicted with hemophilia. The ancient theory is that gargoyles needed the hemophiliac’s blood for infusions to keep their blood from crystalizing and turning them into stone.”

“Awesome. I love it. So due to your childhood phobia and this ancient mythology you wanted to cure hemophilia to save children from being carried off by gargoyles.”

“Odd isn’t it, almost laughable but I’m proud to say, we’re getting close to a real breakthrough.”

*~~*****~~*

Powerful winds blew us down the mountain. “Thank you for driving me into the city. I’m sorry, but Jane said they’d found the solution. I have to be there for the final test. If she’s right, we’ve cured hemophilia.”

“With this storm, I couldn’t let you go alone,” Rafe insisted. Besides, I’m funding this research, and if you’ve found the cure, I’ve got work to do too. Just imagine the future, the most extravagant wedding and honeymoon in the world.”

“Mr. Romantic,” I said and cuddled close. Thrilled with his trust, admiration, and love, I watched my fiancée skillfully maneuver through the blizzard to my lab.

When we arrived, I jumped out, excited to see the achievement of a lifetime to fruition, but an eerie silence greeted me. Something was wrong. I’d barely closed the truck door when I saw blood in the snow and then Greg’s dismembered body. His torso lay across the picture window sill, stuck on a large shard of glass, but his head and legs lay on the ground below him. Inside the lab, an orgy of blood and body parts adorned the clinical white of the once sterile environment. The only thing I recognized of Jane was her long blonde hair. Now streaked with blood her scalp hung from the overhead light. I heard Raphe screaming my name, right before his head sailed past spraying me with blood. His body dropped at my feet as the sound of growling, and the rustle of wings grew intense.

Before I could articulate a scream, bloody talons grasped me by the shoulders. I was lifted from the ground, into the snowfall, above the clouds, and into darkness.

*~~*****~~*

The castle they’re holding me in sits high in the Andes’ but has a state of the art laboratory. Still, I’ve not made much progress. Without my team, I’m struggling to find the right formula. The gargoyles want me to keep their blood from crystallizing. I might have cured hemophilia, but the world isn’t aware because these monsters destroyed the records.

The worst part is that they continue to abduct adolescent children and farm them for their blood.

I’m hoping to kill the entire brood, but the gargoyles working beside me watch too closely. My only chance is to cure the children they’ve captured. My clotting agent should turn these child killers to stone, permanently …

~~ The End ~~

Yolanda Renee © 2017
832 words

H A P P Y  H A L L O W E E N !


THERE ARE MORE TALES TO READ
JUST FOLLOW THE LINKS!






Wednesday, October 4, 2017

IWSG - PHONES



Question: Have you ever slipped any of your personal information into your characters, either by accident or on purpose?

Sarah, one of the main characters in my murder trilogy, hates telephones. I hate phones. It took me years to get a cell phone, but I am now free from the landline.

Although I have the least technical of the models. I’ll upgrade one day soon, maybe. 

Yes, this is the phone on my wall. It's now art!


My experiences, the characteristics of family, friends, and strangers all make up the characters of my stories. A little fact, a lot of fiction, and loads of research make the story!










*****

It's that time of the year.
Dark Places
Sign-up NOW!





Saturday, September 16, 2017

LOOKING SKYWARD



Keep your face always toward the sunshine – and shadows will fall behind you.

              Walt Whitman



Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.

              Rabindranath Tagore



Try to be a rainbow in someone’s cloud.

              Maya Angelou



I hope your life is filled with sunshine!

Wednesday, September 6, 2017

IWSG - CHALLENGES





Question: Have you ever surprised yourself with your writing? For example, by trying a new genre you didn't think you'd be comfortable in?



Yes, when I wrote Ever-Ton, now in the anthology Parallels:Felix Was Here, my entry for the IWSG speculative fiction challenge in 2015. I’ve always loved science fiction; my brother was an avid reader and I’d sneak his paperbacks when he wasn’t looking. He didn’t like to share.

I love a challenge, did the research and was surprised by the story that formed. My muse was working diligently then?
Now, today, not so much! I’m in a bit of a slump, due to outside influences. You know that thing they call life, but I do see the light at the end of this long, long tunnel.

Does your muse cooperate?





SIGN UP HERE:




Wednesday, August 30, 2017

FREE - ONE LAST TIME





FREE



TODAY - ONLY!



AUGUST 30TH





It takes a true artist to pursue his victims in the art of seduction, and Stowy Jenkins is no exception, especially with blood as his medium.

 Excerpt:

Trick or Treat


When Sandra finally appeared in a hooded parka, he sat up and smiled. A backpack hung from her shoulder, and she was half carrying, half dragging a bag of garbage.

That’s it. Come to poppa. Luck is mine tonight. Stone exited his truck as quiet as a cat ready to pounce on his prey.

She lifted the heavy lid and pushed the bag inside the dumpster, and he plunged the hypodermic into her arm before she took another breath. It should have worked immediately. He expected her to fall into his arms, but Sandra swung around and walloped him with her backpack. Damned thick parkas!

He shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears and smashed his fist into her face.




Wednesday, August 23, 2017

FREE - AGAIN!





FREE



AGAIN TODAY



AUGUST 23RD




It takes a true artist to pursue his victims in the art of seduction, and Stowy Jenkins is no exception, especially with blood as his medium.

 Excerpt:
Jewel

Stone tuned to the weather channel for the umpteenth time. Come on, tell old Stone exactly when those storms’ll hit. I have plans, and my artistry demands perfection.
Having attained the information he desired, he switched the television off and stepped outside to check on the pickup. He loaded new tire chains in the tool box in the bed, checked the oil, then dropped into the front seat and turned on the ignition. “Now that’s what I call a sweet sound.” He patted the steering wheel. “Tonight, we thoroughly confuse the rookie!”
Stone decided to cruise down 64th Street to the Synroc Club, where he knew a long-legged native girl named Jewel usually hung out. “Ah, Jewel, there you are, my little Eskimo beauty. This will be in honor of you, Detective.” He pulled up in front of her.