Gerald Dean Rice's Blog, page 58
July 10, 2013
#HorrorSnippets 2 - Traffic
Reblogged from razorlinepress:
Aaron Flyte was a jerk and he deserved to die. Andy would have described himself as seething as he drove the man who was blackmailing him to the nearest ATM to empty out his account. He had no clue how he was going to explain this to his wife, but it had to be done.
Andy's wallet was in Aaron's lap.
July 9, 2013
#HorrorSnippets 2 – Traffic
Aaron Flyte was a jerk and he deserved to die. Andy would have described himself as seething as he drove the man who was blackmailing him to the nearest ATM to empty out his account. He had no clue how he was going to explain this to his wife, but it had to be done.
Andy’s wallet was in Aaron’s lap. Aaron had picked through it, removing cash and the debit card to the account Andy had so foolishly used for his paycheck and the erroneous funds that had made their way there as well.
Had he been able to wish for a person’s death, certainly he would have done so upon Flyte. It would have been better had Aaron simply turned him in once he found out what Andy had been doing. It would have been a relief of sorts.
The lies had been long and enduring. Once Andy was thoroughly hooked, he honestly expected someone to tap him on the shoulder and say something to the effect of ‘gotcha’, but it never happened. No one ever came. It got easier and easier and Andy began to take more and more. By the time Aaron came along, Andy was so deep he didn’t know where the lying ended and where he began.
“How long have you known?”
Flyte looked at him with that all-too knowing smile. “Long enough.”
Aaron let his hand hang out the window in that way people tended to do when they seemed to be relaxing on a drive in a way Andy had never been able to do. He had an enduring childhood phobia of a vehicle or some stationary object cleaving off his hand that kept all parts of him securely inside his vehicle.
Actually, it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea if—
“Holy geez!” Aaron screamed, yanking his arm back inside the car. Andy glanced over and saw one hand firmly locked around his wrist. He didn’t get too good of a look, but it almost looked like two fingers were missing from his hand.
Andy slowed for a light that had just changed, the cars in front of him surging back into the bloodstream of traffic.
“What the hell happened?” Andy asked.
“Turn around. You have to go back. You have to go back!” Aaron was on the point of hysteria. Andy saw the panic in a man’s eyes just before pressing the gas again to keep up with traffic.
“Stop the car? Why?” Andy could feel a rising sense of superiority, though he didn’t understand why.
“Please,” the other man said. “My fingers. They fell off.”
Andy felt more curiosity than panic. “Really?” he said. “Let me see.” He reached over without looking and grabbed Aaron’s wrist, holding it up to his face. He’d been wrong before. Aaron’s index finger was still there it was only the thumb and middle fingers that were missing.
That was funny and Andy coughed a laugh before he could stop himself.
No, f you, Aaron.
Andy shoved the man’s arm away, feeling him waning like a balloon with a fast leak, while Andy felt strong.
“Please stop the car and let me out. Let me get my fingers!”
“Sorry to break the bad news to you, Aaron,” Andy began in a low tone like he was letting him in on some big secret. “But your fingers are at least a half a mile back. On the off chance they didn’t get run over or scooped up by some critter, you’ll never find them. It’s windy out there and those fingers probably rolled all over the street.”
“Oh, sweet Lord, I think I’m going into shock!”
“I’m surprised you’re not already. Hey, how bad’s the bleeding?”
“I’m not… it’s not… bleeding.”
That was odd, but Andy didn’t really care. He stomped on the gas and weaved around a little Toyota in front of them.
“My ear!”
Aaron’s agony was like manna. He wanted more. The speedometer crept up to fifty and Andy gave it a little more.
“What are you doing? Why won’t you let me go?”
“Why won’t I let you go? You? What have you been doing to me for the last two weeks, Aaron? What just happened to you is the least you deserve.” Andy gave the man a sideways glance before pumping the brake to keep from rear-ending a white pickup.
“Tell you what. You want to go get your fingers? Get out. Get out right now. You’ll probably break an arm, maybe your tailbone. But people will probably stop for you and then you can get your fingers.”
Andy began swatting at him, then shoving him into the door. Sure, Andy was wrong for what he had taken, but he hadn’t caused anyone agony. The company could go for years and never know the difference. Hell, they probably would never know if it weren’t for someone like Aaron who wanted to ruin it. Andy had already begun the proceas to stop himself. It was like an addiction and he’d already planned his own intervention. He was going to quit.
But if Aaron had had his way that could never happen.
Andy blew through a red light, several honking horns trailing after them. His speed crept back up to forty.
“Oh, God, my teeth.”
His words sounded looser, like his tongue weren’t caged firmly inside his mouth. Andy chanced a few seconds for another look. Almost all of the uppers and lowers on the right side of his mouth were gone. A few of them were sitting on Aaron’s pant leg, strikingly white against the dark blue of his jeans. The man sneezed and the rest that had come loose that were still in his mouth clinkled across the dashboard and windshield.
Andy laughed.
It was the first time he’d had a laugh like that in probably months. It felt good. By the time he got his eyes focused and back on the road, he’d scraped bumpers with a blue Grand Am. The driver screamed something at him he didn’t understand and that made him laugh even more. And when he laughed the second time he hit the gas again.
They were doing sixty now.
“Oh, no, my arm!” His elbow was resting against the door at an odd angle and the smile felt glued to Andy’s face.
“I’m gonna go for seventy,” he said. “I’ve never driven that fast off the freeway. What do you think?”
Aaron was babbling incoherently. He pulled at his tongue with his intact hand and it flopped into his palm. They flew past one of the branches of Andy’s bank.
“I didn’t want to stop at that one,” he said. “No drive-thru.” Aaron was making a high-pitched sound, like a deep-throated screaming tea kettle. There was a red light ahead of them with cars four deep stopped at the intersection. Cross traffic had just begun moving, but Andy could beat them if he wanted.
He stomped on the gas, jumping into the incoming traffic lane, a car that had just rounded the corner drove onto the sidewalk to avoid them, the driver honking like he was communicating in Morse code. Walls of traffic closed in from either side, one of those trucks with the tall, compact trailers rigged to it large in the passenger side window.
Andy’s tires chirped and the car leapt. Both men slammed back against their seats as the car fishtailed out of the intersection, weaving into a lane. Andy screamed in victory, crushing the dome light of the car with his pumping fist. He felt blood trickle into his sleeve, but felt no pain.
“Come on, Aaron, how awesome was that?” he said.
The two men met eyes and he could see they were on opposite emotional ends. That was panic he was looking at. Abject terror if there ever were such a thing. He let off on the gas—
—just as Aaron Flyte’s head fell off.
It wedged between his legs, mostly upside down, nothing visible above the bridge of his nose. The empty cavern of his mouth seemed a perfect fit for the lump of a wallet merely an inch or two away.
But of course, Aaron had no need of his wallet anymore or the precious debit card inside. Andy snatched it away.
It didn’t even cross his mind that what had just happened was bad. He rolled down his window, finally taking his foot off the gas. He put his elbow up, feeling the stiff wind against his arm.
Hey, why not?
Andy put his hand up, his speed slowing to sixty, fifty-five. The wind felt nice between his fingers.
At forty-nine miles-per-hour, his index flew off. It didn’t hurt and Andy didn’t immediately notice. He was at forty-four and down to a ring finger and index left before he saw something was wrong.
“My fingers!”
He stomped on the brake to turn around and his hand fell off. It landed on his thigh like it was about to try for second base. Andy screamed, his foot coming off the brake.
A car honked past, far too close and he looked around. Traffic was coming fast and in a panic, he hit the gas. The car jetted back up to fifty and pressure in his nub of an arm eased.
Andy cradled his wounded arm to his chest, despite not being in actual pain. He kept the car between forty-five and fifty, a long stretch of road ahead with no traffic lights. He didn’t know how long he could go without stopping and the bravery he’d experienced just a few moments ago was all used up.
What would happen when he came to a red light?
It didn’t seem like Andy was going to get the chance to find out. A police cruiser eased out of an abandoned gas station and injected into the stream of traffic behind him.
Andy knew. He just knew. Even as he hoped it wouldn’t, he knew the siren was going to come on, that the cruiser would flash its lights. His only question was what he’d do about it when it happened.
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July 7, 2013
#HorrorSnippets is Here!
Horror authors! Here’s an excellent way to promote yourself to a new audience. Write a horror scene and post it at WWW.Facebook.com/HorrorSnippets with your name, a link to your latest work and your website. I’ll tweet it to my almost 19,000 followers and put it on my website WWW.HorrorSnippets.blogspot.com.
July 6, 2013
#MonstersUniversity Review
I saw this over the weekend with my wife and daughter. While it wasn’t as touching as the original (really, how could it be?) there was a great storyline that answered just about all the questions a person may have had.
It centers more on Mike (Billy Crystal’s character) with a big helping of Sully (John Goodman) and how he began to fulfill his lifelong dream of bring a scarer.
What I love about typical Pixar movies is they are also geared toward adults. And any adult who has spent a significant amount of time on a college campus will get some of the subtle humor that will fly clearly over the little ones’ heads. I don’t want to give ANY spoilers so I will keep the tidbits floating through my mind to myself.
But needless to say, Mike and Sully don’t immediately get along. Mike is singularly-minded and Sully relies on natural ability alone. When the two are forced to work together things don’t go well and things go from bad to worse. But along the way, they make unlikely friends with some other monsters.
The only drawback for me was I would have liked a little more to go on for Randy’s (Steve Buscemi) back story. I thought it was funny that he was a likeable, nice guy at first, but his transformation should have been a little more prevalent given his arc in Monsters, Inc.
But if you loved the original, you’ll love this. Highly recommended.
July 5, 2013
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#TheWalkingDead Season 4 Preview Weekend Marathon July 4-7
July 1, 2013
AMC’s The Walking Dead Season 4 Preview Weekend Marathon Launches July 4
Starting Thu., Jul. 4 at 1PM/12c AMC invites viewers to tune-in to "The Walking Dead Season 4 Preview Weekend" and catch up on the series that has been hailed by USA Today as "one of the season’s best series," and reigns as the number one show in delivery for adults 18-49. The Walking Dead marathon will be hosted by Comic Book Men executive producer Kevin Smith from the Atlanta-based set where the cast are currently filming Season 4 of the hit series. Smith talks to the cast and crew and shares behind-the-scenes footage from the highly anticipated upcoming fourth season. The first season of The Walking Dead airs twice on Jul. 4, featuring marathons of both the original and special black-and-white editions. These are followed by Season 2 on Fri., and Season 3 on both Satu. and Sun. Each day of this four-day event begins at 1PM/12c. (However, the black-and-white editions only apply to Season 1 on Jul. 4).
The Walking Dead returns this October with brand new episodes. Based on the comic book series written by Robert Kirkman and published by Image Comics, The Walking Dead tells the story of a group of survivors who travel in search of a safe and secure home in the months and years following a zombie apocalypse. The series stars Andrew Lincoln, David Morrissey, Steven Yeun, Norman Reedus, Danai Gurira, Chandler Riggs, Lauren Cohan, Scott Wilson, Melissa McBride, Chad Coleman, Sonequa Martin-Green and Emily Kinney.
Click here for a full schedule of The Walking Dead on AMC.
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July 2, 2013
#HorrorSnippet #2
Just as a preface. I have no idea when I wrote this except that it was several years ago. Pre 2007 is my best guess. I’m not entirely sure where this was going, either.
I’ve been known to get into a state. It happens when I occasionally drink a little more than I should. That summer was a weird one. Hot and humid from beginning to end. Didn’t rain much but the earth got so heavy and moist you could scoop up a hunk of lawn in your hand if you wanted.
I should know about things like that. I was a gravedigger then.
The other thing about that summer was business. On a normal, we dig two graves during the day, in between services. But a lot of people died that summer and a whole lot of them came to Mount Olive.
The director thought we were unsightly in our coveralls, but we couldn’t very well dig holes in our Sunday best. So he decided we should dig graves at night instead of during regular business hours.
None of the three of us cared for his decision, each man making his complaint under his breath or leaving it on his breath in the form of some cheap liquor. We all drank, especially after we started working the night shift. I was half in the bag that night, pushing a wheelbarrow full of flowers to plant over the Simmons plot. Moore was supposed to be backfilling Mr. Alvo two plots over. I was halfway through the flowers when I shouted something I can’t remember now and he didn’t answer. I stood up too fast, clenching at air to catch myself and stumbled over to the Alvo plot. The earth was much too soft to put the headstones in, so it was just a bare, square hole.
“Moore?” I called. “You there?” I peeked over the edge. Moore was a rude fellow and sometimes would deposit on the coffins of the wealthy; a unique keepsake to rest upon the dearly departed for all time.
He was there. What made me leap back was the open coffin, Mr Alvo’s arm hung out. He was still dead but his body had been moved. Like he’d been sat up and dropped back down. The locks had been broken.
“He was moving,” Moore said, standing at the lip of the grave, half-propped on a shovel. “Broke the locks when I looked in. I watched him, crawling out. He looked at me. Then he flopped back over like he was still dead.”
I had understood all the words he had said but I still asked, “What?”
Moore looked at me.
He pointed at Alvo’s body.
“Zombie. I’m gonna re-kill him.”
About a dozen things made sense that would perfectly explain what Moore had seen. I smiled at him, hoping to dial it down a notch.
I need to revise a prior statement. I drank. Most of then other guys did. Moore didn’t. I think I said something to him about hitting the sauce for the first time sometimes hits back, but he fixed me with a steely, brown-eyed stare.
“He’s dead. I been with Mr. Alvo all day. I know dead when I see it.”
“Look, why don’t we go see what Ray is doing–”
“I’m not leaving.” He was staring back into the grave. “I’m waiting for him to come out. I’ll make sure he’s dead. I’ll cut his head off.”
“Well, why don’t you just jump down there and do it now? Save yourself some time.” I was hoping my ridiculous suggestion would bring him to his senses.
“Are you crazy?” he said. “I’m not going in there. I’m not even sure I’m working here after tonight. Besides, it’s too enclosed. I need room to move.”
I left him in search of Ray. I found him inside the business office, in the men’s room. He had the lights out and was standing in front of a mirror with about three dozen candles lit on the counter.
I turned the lights on.
“What, man, owww!” he said, covering his face. “Turn ‘em off!”
I didn’t, knowing he was up to something, but not intending to chastise him about it. I was a drunk, but wasn’t above getting extra curricular on occasion. I wanted to know what he had.
“What are you doing in here?”
“Nothing.” He’d misunderstood the question. And when I realized that I knew he was up to something. I grabbed his wrist to pull his hand away. He resisted, but it didn’t matter. I was big, he was small–simple math.
He tried wiping his face, but the ash smudges were still there. I couldn’t make out what he’d scrawled on his cheeks, but I could see it had been something.
“Look, okay-okay-okay,” he began. “That old guy, he has a lotta money. Had a lot of money. Got two wives buried here. He’d been dying a long time, all right. Tried everything. But then there wasn’t no more anybody could do. He knew he was comin’ here so he asked me to do somethin’.” Ray looked everywhere but at me. I said nothing. “He learned these weirdo spells and paid me a lotta money to learn them and then… after he died… use them to bring him back. They’re super-easy and even a big guy like you could teach yourself.”
“Whaaaat?” I almost walked out.
“Look, I can cut you in. 10k sound nice?”
Like I said. Almost walked out. I didn’t believe the Mr. Alvo business any more than I believed Moore had seen him trying to crawl out of his own grave, but that didn’t mean Mr. Alvo hadn’t believed and given Ray a lot of money.
“Okay,” I said. “Up front. In fact, right now.”
“Sure-sure, man.” Ray gave one of those signature smiles of his that showed all the way back to his wisdom teeth. He had perfectly formed, church-house white choppers save form the big gap where an upper front used to reside. He whipped out his smartphone and plucked at it some. “What’s your bank account and routin’ number?”
I didn’t know if he was calling my bluff or I was calling his.
“Well, I don’t know it,” I said.
He narrowed his eyes. “Okay, you got an email account connected to your bank account? Y’know, like when they send you e-statements?”
I was still a little lost, but that last bit about emails from my bank rang a bell. My daughter had helped me set that up. She was trying to get me to pay my bills ‘electronically’ but that was all so much for me.
“Yeah.” I gave him my address and a few plucks later he looked back up at me and smiled.
“Check your account tomorrow, cool?”
“I guess.” I was linked with something I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to be involved in. “So… what do we do?”
“We just help the old man get to a car waiting for him. He’s legally dead so he already has these fake IDs I need to give him–” Ray was wearing a fanny pack and unzipped it, producing a driver’s license and a few credit cards–”and then he’s got a car waiting to take him to Idaho.”
“What’s in Idaho?”
“Potatoes.” He smiled again as if to say ‘Why should I give a damn’ and slapped me on the shoulder. The gesture felt like the underworld equivalent of a handshake.
Were we in business together?
I started to say something about not believing any of this, but Ray spoke again.
“You know, you may as well come in now. It was hard as hell to make that old man to break his own locks. Moore been with ‘im all day and I couldn’t do it myself.”
“Make him?”
“Yeah.” Ray was on a roll now. I could see the weight sliding off his shoulders with each word. “I had to put part of me inside Alvo to get him goin’ again.” He’s got some sort of rig that’s s’posed to keep him going after that, but bit doesn’t work on consecrated ground.”
An alarm bell tinkled somewhere in the basement of my mind.
“Hey, Ray, what would happen if Mr. Salvo died again while you were… attached to him?”
“Ain’t no thang, man. Bullets can’t hurt him. He dead, already. Onliest thing can kill him now is if somebody cut off his head.”
Church bells in the living room now.
He took a step back from me. My face must have looked how I thought it did.
“Moore.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “Outside, standing over his grave with a shovel, waiting to cut his head off.”
We ran.
We began waving our arms and shouting as soon as we were outside even though we were about a football field’s length away. We saw the two of them, hardly bigger than ants at this distance.
Alvo was on his knees, looking like he’d just wormed out of his grave. Moore was standing over him, slowly raising the shovel. Alvo raised his hands, pleadingly and Moore’s arms came down. The blade of the shovel struck and Alvo’s head rolled to meet us.
Ray looked at it dumbly. He looked at me and I could see the life leaving him like water pouring out of a glass.
“Fix it, man. You owe me.”
He fell and didn’t move.
Moore walked casually over. He nodded as if saying ‘Told you so’.
“He faint?” he said, looking at Ray.
“Yeah,” I said. He shook his head and kicked the head like a soccer ball back and forth to either foot back to Alvo’s grave. I watched him nudge the body back in and then begin chucking the mound of dirt back into the hole.
I looked at Ray’s lifeless body, then back at the business office. Ray said it had been easy, he even had handwritten instructions. Could I do it?
I began to walk back. I had to figure this out before Moore checked Ray for a pulse.
July 1, 2013
June 29, 2013
Skinheads
Reblogged from childeofthenight:
"I've missed you"
"I know, I'm sorry I had to leave you behind. But you have to understand why"
"I do understand and I'm not afraid"
We were both stood at the top of Hampstead Heath, holding each other. Nothing more, just simply holding each other. I leaned in and kissed her. I could feel her chest rising and falling against mine as she breathed in and out.
