Chad A. Clark's Blog, page 47

Issue #87

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This is the fifth installment in an ongoing story which
will conclude on All Hallows Eve.
To go back, click on the appropriate link:

part one        part two        part three        part four
She woke up within pain.

There was a warm, thick fluid flowing down her arms and legs that she knew had to be blood. She could feel the lacerations up and down her arms, her back and down both sides of her body. She had no idea where she was, but the ground underneath her was cold, stony dirt. As she tried to move, fresh pain seared through her and caused her to scream out, in that moment not caring who was near and might hear that she had awoken.

She could hear the night-time wildlife outside but nothing else. There was an urge to call out for help, one that she managed to suppress, chiding herself silently for giving in to the urge to scream, an urge that was starting to rise up in her again and she bit into her lower lip to try and suppress it.

The memories of how she had come to this place were vague, wrapped in flashes of rage and pain. She couldn’t see the thing clearly in her memory, or anything else that might have caused this. The only thing she could really remember was being lifted off the ground, flying through the air.

Had the other victims been left alone like this? Or was it possible that thing had given up on her? It was impossible to know the answers but she needed to keep her mind working, to ignore the hopelessness of this situation she was in. She needed to plan. For whatever reason, she had been left here alone on the ground and gritted her teeth at the pain that rose up through her, fresh cuts on her hands as she tried to push up into a standing position, the glass breaking underneath her as she did so. Even with the blood making her hands slip, she eventually managed to stagger to her feet, which she noticed were bare.

The world around her started to unhinge as she walked and struck her shoulder several times against the wall as she listed to the side. The ground felt like it had started to tilt as she put a hand out to brace herself from falling. She reached the end of the building and peeked around the corner, across the main pavilion. There was no one around but she still heard the faintest vestiges of music coming from somewhere. That, and flashing lights.

It wasn’t clear how long it took to recognize the lights from the squad cars as they swarmed around her but she suddenly looked up and saw the uniformed officers, stepping out of their cars and approaching her slowly. Of course they were from her house.

“Detective?” One of the older ones asked as they walked up to her, unsure of what the protocol even was for situations like this. “Detective, are you hurt? Is that your blood?”

It was the last coherent moment she recalled before waking up in an interview room, a detective she didn’t recognize sitting across the table from her.

“Good, you’re awake,” he said as he slid a coffee mug with water over to her. “Detective, can you give us some idea what’s going on here? Because we’re trying pretty hard to not see it for what it looks like.”

Even in her disoriented state, a sarcastic remark rose to her lips but she cut it off. “I …” the sentence she did try to get out trailed off as she looked around the room again, trying to reconcile where she was with her memory of the evening.

“Detective, we’ve been getting reports of a woman seen several times in the general vicinity of the fairgrounds, especially around the times we think the murders took place. There were two new victims there when we found you and it just so happens that you’re drenched in their blood.” She stared at him and then down at her arms, still slightly caked in dried blood, but at least covered in bandages. He followed her gaze as if reading her mind. “They both had tissue under their fingernails that matched up with you, which would coincide with those scratches and cuts. Now, I’m not looking to get you into a situation here so if you can just give me an explanation, I’d appreciate it.”

“Who are you?” Kim finally found her voice.

He leaned back in his chair, let out a long breath and occupied his attention on something in his file folder, as if he already knew that the conversation was going nowhere. “I came in from the two-nine. Some of the victims have been found in out area and they wanted someone you didn’t know to talk to you.”

Kim stared the man down until the silence was finally awkward enough for him to raise his head and make eye contact with her. Once he had averted his gaze from her again, she spoke. “You think I did all of this? I’m a suspect?”

“If you want to know my opinion? No, but the way we found you, it isn’t like we can just call you a cab. There’s too much we have to factor against you. The department has thought for a while that the killer could be a cop, the way they seem to know about police procedure.”

“A cop.” She almost laughed at the notion.

“I know, but it’s their theory and they’re going to have some questions for you.”

“Well, then here’s my answer.” She lofted the classic, middle-fingered response and shifted her gaze to the windows. He let out another tortured sigh before standing and leaving the room.

What could she tell them? What did she have to tell them that they didn’t already know? And worse, how could she do it and not come off completely crazy, talking about being abducted by some kind of supernatural creature. As much as she hated tactics like this when she was on the other side of the room, maybe it was time to shut up and let the lawyers deal with this. There was no way any charges would stick to her on this.

Kim’s head jerked up at the sound of something crashing to the floor outside. It had sounded like glass breaking, followed by a file cabinet being knocked over. At the sound of people yelling and the first few screams, she was up and out of her chair, hand creeping over for a gun which she no longer had.

Several more crashes of objects knocked to the floor were followed by one gunshot and then silence. Kim crept to the door, put a hand out to take the knob and twisted slowly. She winced at the sound of the hinges and what sounded like broken glass as the door swung out over the floor ahead of her.

Blood stained the walls of the main office. There were a half dozen bodes that she could see and God only knew how many more. Whatever had happened out here, it had been so fast that only one person had managed to get a shot off. Everyone was dead.

She was going to be blamed for this.

Kim looked around the room, trying to make a decision, trying to see through her panic. If someone had gotten a call out for help, she probably only had minutes to get out of here. Ronnie’s desk was to her left and she remembered that he always parked next to the rear exit. She took his keys from his desk drawer as well as his service revolver and extra mags from the floor safe that he never kept locked. There was only one choice left to her.

She ran.

Thank you for taking the time to visit the blog, I hope you enjoyed the story! If you did, please consider sharing this story via your social media of choice below, or even leave me a comment!. You can also subscribe above to receive email notifications of new content when it is available. All text content is the exclusive property of the author, Chad A. Clark and is intended solely for the purposes of viewing online. Any copying, downloading or re-distribution is strictly prohibited.
©2014 Chad A. Clark      All Rights Reserved  

Baked Scribe Flashback!

She hadn’t paid the thing any mind at first, just a piece of stray laundry that had been caught in the breeze and was floating her way. It looked like an elongated sheet, maybe a runner for an end table, something that had just pulled free from the line it had been drying on. The thought that froze her in her tracks was when it occurred to her that the sheet was floating against the wind.

She spun back around as the sound of fabric rustling came up behind her and she was immediately wrapped up in a flurry of white.

As she threw her arms up to try and clear the thing away from her, she was lifted up partially off the ground and spun around several times, until her head started to swim. Her arms dropped back down to their sides and the thing quickly wrapped around, pinning them to her side while dropping her roughly to the ground. It was almost funny to think what this must look like to a passer-by, to see her writhing around hopelessly inside of someone’s lost bed linens.

Except that it wasn’t a sheet.

It had looked like white cotton as it had flitted about through the air but wrapped around her, it felt like flesh. She tried to rip through it with her nails but it only drew tighter. She tried to scream out for help but could no longer draw in enough breath to accomplish the feat. The absurdity of the situation as she toppled over backwards was infuriating. Her legs were now fully tangled up in the thing as it appeared to have an unlimited length to it. All she could feel was mounting pressure as it continued to wrap and pull taut around her body.

Every part of her was now covered, save for her face. For a moment, she thought that she could hear vague whispers, spoken softly in her ear in a language that she could not understand. Then, the thing moved up and around her eyes, obscuring the world around her in a translucent fog of white. It continued wrapping around, covering her nose and now forcing its way into her mouth, down her throat and in that final moment, her last thoughts were of struggling in vain for air that she would never taste again.

Thank you for taking the time to visit the blog, I hope you enjoyed the story! If you did, I hope you'll consider sharing this story via your social media of choice below, or even leave me a comment!. You can also subscribe above to receive email notifications of new content when it is available. All text content is the exclusive property of the author, Chad A. Clark and is intended solely for the purposes of viewing online. Any copying, downloading or re-distribution is strictly prohibited.
©2014 Chad A. Clark      All Rights Reserved  

Issue #86

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This is the third installment in an ongoing story which will conclude on All Hallows Eve.
To go back, click on the appropriate link:

part one     part two     part three She couldn’t remember the last time she had been inside a church but she was pretty sure that if a memory did surface, she would have likely have been wearing a school uniform. The smell of the incense was strong in the air as she looked up past the alter and let the sound of the choir in rehearsal wash over her.

There was no way to verbalize what she had just seen, no way to articulate it even to herself in her own head. All she knew was that if she let anyone hear her story, she would end up in the soft restraints before the end of business. She couldn’t talk to any of her friends either because, for the most part, even friends talk.

She could talk to a priest.

It had to be the case, the long hours, it was all coming together to pull her apart at the seams. Her imagination had clearly run rampant on her but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. The sketch they had gotten from that drunk’s description wasn’t helping things either.

The problem was that she wasn’t sure if she could even find the words to carry on a conversation with a priest. She had never been one to hand the emotional steering wheel over to other people. A job like hers, she had to be several times stronger and capable than the men around her. Any sign of weakness, especially hinting at some kind of emotional instability was like chumming the waster.

“Can I help you with anything?”

The voice was whispered from behind. She spun around so quickly, it made him jump as well. It was the church Deacon, sitting on the pew behind her.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“I can’t say that I’ve seen you in here before.”

Kim immediately began to feel defensive. “That isn’t a problem, is it?”

“No, of course not. I’m just trying to make some conversation before you bolt out of here. You look about as scared as I’ve ever seen.”

She wasn’t sure if it made her feel better or worse that it was that obvious.

“Are we talking about a husband? Boyfriend?”

She didn’t understand what he meant at first, but quickly realized what directions his assumptions had led him in.

“It’s nothing like that. I’m not even in a … it doesn’t matter.”

“Can you talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you?”

“What was it that made you want to do what you do?” she asked, trying to de-rail him by changing the subject. “Why the church?”

“When you feel the calling, you know what needs to be done. It really is that simple.”

She considered that. “And what if you saw something, something that changes everything but you can’t figure out how to deal with it?”

He nodded, looking up into the rafters for several moments before answering. “I think most of the time you know what to do in any given situation, the trick is hearing the directions that your mind is trying to give you.”

“And if you saw something that proved that everything you had accepted as true was false, what would you do?”

The deacon shifted in his seat, seeming to be growing uncomfortable at the questions. She let him squirm for a moment before letting him off the hook.

“Don’t sweat it, Deacon. I’m not even sure what kind of an answer I was looking for anyway.” He nodded in response but Kim felt his eyes following her as she stood and headed for the front doors.

The street outside was pitch black, save for the stoplight swinging from its suspension cables at the far end of the block. It seemed like it was colder than when she had come in, more blustery as dead leaves tumbled past her along the curb and the gutters. She couldn’t go home, knowing that she would be in for an entire night of climbing up the walls. She couldn’t go to work either, knowing that she would find no help there.

She drove to the fairgrounds.

Better to go there, where most of the killings had been taking place. Better to go back to the beginning and see if she could get a better toe hold in this investigation. She said this, even though the voices of her better reason told her that even a toe hold would be too much to hope for. After what she had just seen in that grove behind the station, she needed to focus on the basics of the investigation, keep things simple. There had to be something they had missed.

The only thing she found as she walked down the avenue was the still present remains of the rides that hadn’t been broken down for the off-season. She wasn’t even coming across other people who continued to use the fairgrounds as a shortcut, despite the police’s posted warnings, advising people to steer clear of the area.

She couldn’t explain what was drawing her back here or why this seemed like the most logical choice. Maybe it was the oddity of the multiple victims. Serial killers rarely used the same location more than once, a pattern that this killer was defying. What her instincts seemed to know somehow was that this place was where all of this had started and was likely where it would all end as well.

The absurdity of her expedition was starting to creep into her mind. She didn’t even know what to look for, let alone where. Maybe this was all just an attempt to chase down any thought possible other than the memory of what her mind refused to accept that she had seen. The same voice was also reminding her that it might be time to stop thinking of this investigation as a search for someone, rather a search for something. And if that were the case, what would she even do if she found it?

In the end, it was the sound of her partner’s grating laughter in her head that tightened down her focus and resolve. She gritted her teeth as she walked, trying to shake the fatigue out of her head as she did so. She wanted to call for back-up but knew that she had no rational reason to do so and it was hard enough getting through the day to day life in this job without also being seen as hysterical.

There was never another place that she thought would benefit from a good, heavy rainstorm as this. The filth that blanketed everything only seemed to contribute to her dire mood, to the sense of dread and finality that seemed to intensify with each step. She drew her revolver, keeping it aimed at the ground, but taking the safety off as well.

As she rounded the control panel for the tilt-a-whirl, she thought there had been a subtle hint of movement off in the distance, next to one of the power transformers. The darkened figure seemed to detach itself briefly, step out enough for her to see it before melting back behind the transformer.

The human voice in her head cried out for her to back off, to call for help or even leave, pretending to have seen nothing. It was the thought of all the people out there who could end up being the next victim that made her shut that voice out. This was her job and, in the end, if she wasn’t willing to do it, what was the point?

Kim crept around the transformer and raised the gun. There was no one there but she had a clear view down the walkway between two buildings and was in time to make out what looked like the petite shape of a female, coyly walking around the far corner, to the right.

She fought back the urge to yell out, to draw attention to herself and instead made her way rapidly along the building, gun raised as she tried to control her breathing. As she turned the corner, she dropped down into a crouch, looking for a target on which to take aim.

The woman was gone.

Kim traced the area, moving the sight at the end of the barrel slowly from left to right but there was no one that she could see. There was a sign about thirty yards ahead of her that was swinging back and forth as if it had been disturbed by something, a breeze or maybe someone bumping into it. She jogged up to it and brought the revolver to bear as she moved around to the other side.

The lower portion of a person’s body stood there, looking like it had been cut cleanly in half. The open wound at the waist line oozed blood and some kind of thick, black fluid.

Kim stepped forward, immediately thinking about what she had seen earlier, exactly like this, as if the person had flown off, leaving their legs behind. She started to look up for any other sign of movement when she heard a sound from behind her and above, an animal-like snarl and her skin stood up on end at the sensation of hot breath on the back of her neck. She brought the gun around to bear, but far too late, turning into a wall of shrieking, the volley of wings beating the air around her and the feeling of sharpened claws tearing themselves into her flesh.

Thank you for taking the time to visit the blog, I hope you enjoyed the story! If you did, I hope you'll consider sharing this story via your social media of choice below, or even leave me a comment!. You can also subscribe above to receive email notifications of new content when it is available. All text content is the exclusive property of the author, Chad A. Clark and is intended solely for the purposes of viewing online. Any copying, downloading or re-distribution is strictly prohibited.
©2014 Chad A. Clark      All Rights Reserved  

Issue #85

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This is the third installment in an ongoing story which will conclude on All Hallows Eve.

To go back, click on the appropriate link:
part one   part two
Kim gripped the sheet of paper in her hand so tightly that she could hear it just starting to tear. She looked up at the sketch artist. “What the fuck is this?”

He shrugged and shifted uncomfortably. “That’s what he described to me. I had the interpretor in there with me for the entire time and he confirmed that this was accurate.”

“So all we’ve found out is that he’s drunk. Or on something. Or both.”

The artist handed her a folder. “He seems lucid to me. Scared, but lucid. This was dropped off after you left the room, the tox screens came back negative.”

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered as she took the folder without bothering to read the report. It was the one explanation she had been clinging too and already even that was gone.

The picture in her grasp looked like one of those idiotic comics that her nephew would always bring with him on weekend visits. It was some kind of sick mixture of a person and a bat, arms outstretched with long claws, teeth like a vampire and a wing span that looked to be close to ten feet. She shook her head and strode back into the interview room.

“Why weren’t there any legs in the picture?” She asked the man. He stared at her blankly, clearly not understanding. He pointed at her own legs and then back at the picture, which was just the upper torso of whatever the creature was. “Where are they? Donde?”

The man just shook his head, firing off another verbal barrage which she could not understand. She turned to the interpretor, who was just entering the room with a fresh cup of coffee.

“He says that it didn’t have any legs,” he said, nodding at the picture, “He says that’s what it looked like.”

She crumpled the paper and headed for the door. “Cut this guy loose.” She turned her back on the interpretor, aware that she was snapping at him for no good reason but knowing that fact didn’t change her mood. She spoke over her shoulder as she left. “Tell him to stay off the booze and to stay away from crime scenes. I see him again and I might start to take it personally.”

Richard was on his way down the hall as she exited, fashionably late as always. She waved him off as he approached. “Don’t bother. That guy’s got nothing.” She tossed the wadded up sheet of paper to him as they passed each other, Richard staying silent for once. Kim started towards her car.

The wind raged outside as she moved between the parked cars. It seemed like every day she continued doing this job, the security consulting position that had been offered to her became even more attractive. The way she felt about things, there were only two paths that this case was likely going to end up on. Either there was some maniac out there, ripping people to pieces, a person that would have about a ninety percent chance of not being caught, or there really was some monster that had just dropped in from their worst nightmares.

She needed to get away from all of this, not just this case, but everything. Get back to the condo, close the blinds, shut off the computer and the phones and shut out all of the shit that was oozing in from the realities of this city.

As she was reaching around in her pocket for her keys, she heard a noise off to her right. There was a small grove of trees behind the building and she was hearing a distinct sound of movement. She didn’t want to just wander over there and potentially into danger but in the end that voice of responsibility in her head that she could never quite shut up won out. Her legs were twitching from the anticipation as she approached, her training telling her that even though this was likely just a bum trying to find a place to sleep, she needed to take care in her approach. She lifted the revolver from her holster and chambered a round, as quietly as she could manage.

There was a dumpster set out by the rear of the building and she crouched down behind it, peeking around to get a better view.

Her first thought was that someone had left behind part of a mannequin, the legs to be exact. This theory quickly became improbable, however, as she could see blood oozing from the top, where the waistline would be. She was frozen in place, not even sure what she was looking at. The legs started to move, as if trying to walk and she noticed that the feet were actually burrowed into the ground, almost all the way up to the shins. As the legs continued to shift, she tightened her hold on her weapon, feeling like the contents of her stomach were going to come rushing up all at once.

She heard the sound of wings beating the air.

It sounded like great gusts of wind generated with each pulse, flapping up and down. She looked up into the night sky and saw that maniac’s drawing, come to life right in front of her. She saw the upper torso of a woman, a giant wingspan reaching out in both directions, slowly descending towards the ground. The thing settled down for a landing, squarely on the lower portion of its body and Kim’s stomach turned again at the wet, squishing sound that emanated as the thing actually wriggled around to try and get into place.

When the two halves of the thing’s body had been reattached, the woman stepped up and out of the holes in the ground. Kim had to suppress a whimper as the woman turned and seemed to smirk, as if aware of her presence, before turning and sauntering off towards downtown.



Thank you for taking the time to visit the blog, I hope you enjoyed the story! If you did, I hope you'll consider sharing this story via your social media of choice below, or even leave me a comment!. You can also subscribe above to receive email notifications of new content when it is available. All text content is the exclusive property of the author, Chad A. Clark and is intended solely for the purposes of viewing online. Any copying, downloading or re-distribution is strictly prohibited.

©2014 Chad A. Clark      All Rights Reserved   

Issue #84

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This is the second installment in a six part story. If you have not already done so, please click here to read the first part.
Kim walked out onto the balcony and looked out over the city. She could hear the sirens filtering up between the buildings. It wasn’t an unusual sound by any means but it was hard to imagine it being for anything other than the killer she knew was stalking the streets, every new flare of volume from the sirens giving her the idiotic hope that somewhere, a break in the case was underway. She kept glancing over at the phone but it had yet to ring in order to pass along the good news.

The most recent victim had been found with some kind of foreign substance clutched in his hands, translucent and looking like he had torn it off of something in the course of the struggle. After complaining endlessly about the proper chain of custody for the evidence not being followed properly, the medical examiner had found the material consistent with that of insect wings. The problem was that the size of the sample suggested that if it was an insect doing this, it would have to be of enormous size. This theory regarding the killer was quickly case aside.

She felt the vibration in her pocket and within a heartbeat, grabbed the phone and answered.

“What?”

“You should head down to the garment district,” the voice answered, “There’s been a 911 call - came in from the factory for Duvall Paper.”

“What did the caller report?” Kim asked as she grabbed her keys from the hook on the wall, picking up her coat before heading for the door.

“Assault in progress,” the voice answered. “Dispatch says he heard something strange in the background, like an animal screaming.”

Kim felt a shiver run up her back as she ended the call and headed down the elevator to the parking garage. The drive wasn’t long but still felt like it dragged on forever. When she arrived, she could see the uniformed officers huddled around the entrance to one of the larger buildings. She saw Richard, hovering near enough for his presence to be known, but still out of sight of course. Her off duty piece was already in her hand and she drew back the slide as she approached.

Someone was screaming inside. It sounded like words and even though they were alien to her, the tone of pleading was clear enough.

“What the Christ are you all waiting for?” Kim hissed as she brushed past the officers. She pushed the door open and clicked on her flashlight,shining it down the barrel of the revolver as she crept down the darkened hallway. The sound of her fellow law enforcement professionals reluctantly following along filtered in to her awareness.

At the end of the hall, there was a set of swinging doors which led out onto what looked like the main work floor. Kim shouldered her way through the doors and clicked off her light, not wanting to create a target in the middle of this huge room. The screaming had dwindled down to a muffled moaning as she walked towards the center of the room, cradling the revolver close to her chest in case someone was waiting to jump out at her.

There was an explosion of sound to her right as a stack of cardboard boxes suddenly toppled over. She caught a blur of movement and something streaked up towards the window, two stories up, shattering the glass as it passed through. Flown through? The officers ran up behind her as she remained fixed where she stood, aiming at the window. What had she just seen?

“Detective?” one of the officers asked her, sounding nervous. “What is it?”

Kim shook her head, not sure she could some up with an answer that made sense, that wouldn’t end up with her back at the house waiting for a psych consult and rubber bullets for her gun. “Nothing,” she said, “I just heard the glass break.”

She was interrupted by one of the other officers. “Christ!” he yelled out as he ran to their left, where the latest victim was laying prone underneath some equipment, or rather, whatever was left of the victim. Both arms and a leg had been crudely ripped from the body and the face had been beaten far beyond the point of being recognizable.

Kim knelt down in front of the person and couldn’t even say for sure what the gender was. Her forensic experience was limited, but even she could see that there didn’t appear to be any sign of cutting, rather that the limbs had been plucked off. She looked at the body and her eyes then climbed back up towards the window. Had it really been flying?

The absurdity of the thought was not lost on her as her train of thought was interrupted by loud cries as a man was dragged into the room from outside by an officer.

“This guy was trying to get away,” the kid said, “No idea what he’s babbling on about, though.”

Kim couldn’t understand the man either but he was clearly terrified. He grabbed fistfuls of his wet, matted hair, gesturing up towards the sky as he spoke. She had studied Spanish at some point but it was currently coming at here too quickly for her to bring her pathetically small vocabulary to bear.

“Get an interpreter in here,” she said. The man was crying now, fallen to his knees and in the fevered pitch of his hysterics, Kim was able to pick out one word which she did recognize, a word repeated again and again.

El Diablo.


Thank you for taking the time to visit the blog, I hope you enjoyed the story! If you did, I hope you'll consider sharing this story via your social media of choice below, or even leave me a comment!. You can also subscribe above to receive email notifications of new content when it is available. All text content is the exclusive property of the author, Chad A. Clark and is intended solely for the purposes of viewing online. Any copying, downloading or re-distribution is strictly prohibited.

©2014 Chad A. Clark      All Rights Reserved

Fated Gods by AM Yates

Trilogies are hard. It's hard to hold on to the reader's interest for that long, hard to maintain a narrative over that much physical space, hard to keep a story fresh and compelling.

But even more than any of that, the hardest part of writing a trilogy (or any long series for that matter) is writing the ending. You aren't just coming up for an ending to a book, you're coming up with an ending for three books. After everything that has been teased at and flirted with, it's now time to shut up and get down to business. No more putting things off until the next book, letting things slide until you have a chance to get around to it. The time is now.

AM Yates does not disappoint. In the third installment of the Summoners series, things finally come to a thrilling conclusion. One aspect of the trilogy format which I find important is that of character development. I think that what defines a trilogy from say, a series is that you can see growth in the characters and when the three act play is finished, they are notably different than they were at the start. By the time you get to Return Of The Jedi, you don't want Luke to be still whining about wanting to go to Tosche Station to pick up some power converters.

Josie is a dynamic character. She is interesting, she doesn't always get along with people around her, you don't always agree with the decisions she makes and she doesn't always do the right thing. She isn't above a little bit of jealousy, maybe even a touch of selfishness. But like any well crafted character, I find myself rooting for her regardless, sticking with her for the long run.

I'm not going to discuss much about the story itself because it isn't really possible without spoiling aspects of the story. Needless to say, the Summoners trilogy is one that you should be reading. It's entertaining reading that also manages to be smart and well written. I was very proud to participate as a reader for these books and for whatever assistance I was able to provide for their development. If you haven't read them, I strongly recommend picking up this as well as the other two books. Take a load off and remember what it felt like to read because you enjoyed it.

Here are some links you can follow to purchase the individual books of the trilogy as well as the author's official site.

Minor Gods
Lost Gods
Fated Gods

AM Yates

Baked Scribe Flashback! Issue #44

Manananggal
a fictional short by Chad A. Clark There were no words, nothing that they could think of to do or say, not even the stupid laughter which the alcohol would have normally provoked. All they could do was stand there and stare at the legs that were sticking out of the ground. It was as if someone had been planted there in the dirt up to their knees and then severed at the waist, leaving the lower half behind. There was even blood and other matter still oozing out from a cutting blow that looked fresh.

They took another simultaneous step forward when a scream ripped through the silence, vocalized rage that rained down on them from above. It was a woman descending down from the darkening sky above, a beautiful woman at that. Beautiful, save for the horrific row of teeth that were now visible from behind lips that were peeling back into a snarl. Beautiful if you didn’t notice the large, leathery wings sprouting out from behind her.

Beautiful if you didn’t notice the fact that she was completely missing the bottom half of her body.

They turned to run but immediately were taken up in her grasp. She hurled Freddie across the clearing where he landed roughly on his neck and went limp, showing no sign of movement. Her wings beat the air as she lifted David straight up with her, teeth sinking into his chest as she did so. He cried out but was already starting to drift away as his blood was drawn out into her in long, deep drinks. The world around him began to spin crazily and he vaguely realized that she had released him and the ground was now rushing back up at him.

As he lay there, lacking the strength to move any part of his broken frame, he watched her take Freddie apart before returning to the other half of her body, which was still standing tethered to the ground. The last thing he saw was her hovering in the air over her other half before settling down, reattaching and stepping out of the ground. With her newly regained limbs, she quietly moved onto the walking path where she strolled off into the swelling darkness of the woods around them.

Thank you for taking the time to visit the blog, I hope you enjoyed the story! If you did, I hope you'll consider sharing this story via your social media of choice below, or even leave me a comment!. You can also subscribe above to receive email notifications of new content when it is available. All text content is the exclusive property of the author, Chad A. Clark and is intended solely for the purposes of viewing online. Any copying, downloading or re-distribution is strictly prohibited.

©2014 Chad A. Clark      All Rights Reserved

Issue #83

The fair had closed for the season several weeks ago but it was to no one’s surprise that pretty much everyone around still used it as a shortcut. It also became the popular destination if you needed to go somewhere a little more private and maybe weren’t ready for the commitment of a hotel room.

Brian had just met the girl that night, made the connection over a blurry game of darts and several more whiskey sours than he should have had. He wanted to believe that their connection really was this quick and this intense but he guessed it was more likely that she was just drunk. Either way, this was going to work out in his favor for once. Her fingers interlaced with his as they walked through the darkened avenue of the fair, past the rides which were now metallic skeletons, food and game booths boarded over and an relentless smell of popcorn in the air. She leaned into him as a cool wind made its way over them and he put an arm around her shoulders.

He looked to his left and right, making sure there was no one else in the park or maybe a late night rent-a-cop doing a check. The carriages on the ferris wheel looked sad there in the moonlight, now neglected from the thousands of bodies that would pass through here every summer. All that was left was the townies and the occasional car stopping for gas on the way through town. He looked down at her as she pulled him to the right between two of the buildings. The smell of her and the sight of her saunter as she strolled in front of him decimated whatever self control he had left. He spun her around and pushed her up against the wall. She snaked her hands around to the back of his neck and drew him in to accept his kiss. The heat from her body made his desire crest as he groped clumsily at her, reaching down for his own clothes.

Before things could progress much farther, he felt a sharp pain in his side, not much dissimilar from the needle pokes he would get at the doctor from time to time. He tried to pull away but she now had him firmly in her grip, her hands coming up to each side of his face and squeezing together like a vice. The world was starting to swim around him from the pressure she was applying and he was already taking note of the elongated, razor-like edges that her teeth had taken on. Had they always been like that? She released him abruptly and stepped back. He fell back against the wall and toppled to the ground, unable to move beyond rolling from side to side, trying to get away from this woman or whatever she was. He tried to call out for help but all he could manage was a guttural cry.

The sky above them was starting to cloud over and his stomach turned at the sound he heard, like wet fabric tearing along a seam. He turned his head to look back at the girl. Somehow, her feet had burrowed into the ground, almost all the way up to her knees. She had planted her hands on her hips and was pushing up. A thin line of blood raced across her midsection as her torso actually began to tear and break free from the lower part of her body. As she did so, a great set of wings unfolded out from behind her. With a horrible shriek, she pulled free of her legs and the wings beat the air, lifting her torso up into the air, arms reaching out for him.

Before he could do anything to ward off the attack, the two of them were racing up into the sky, high up above the city. He looked down the ground and could just make out her legs, still jutting out from the ground like part of a mannequin that had been left behind. The wind picked up and her grip on him intensified. As he strained to get in a breath, his mind started to wander and his eyes started to droop.

*  *  * Richard crouched over what was left of the poor bastard’s body. The medical examiner on the scene wasn’t sure if there had been more damage done before or after being dropped from several hundred feet but whichever the cause, there wasn’t a whole lot left to identify now. A wallet found nearby had contained an ID for Brian Dichwall but there was no way to know for sure if that was who they had found.

“What are we looking at here?” he asked.

Kim shrugged. Her partner had shown up late and as usual was already acting like he was the lead in charge of the entire universe. This was the fifth body they had found in or around the fairgrounds over the past few months, always in this kind of condition. Each of the bodies had endured an extreme amount of violent desecration.

“Whoever is doing it is good at not leaving behind any trace evidence,” she said. “Look around this place. There’s an inch thick layer of dust on everything but there’s no sign of footprints, no drag marks, no forced entry. Other than the door there, which is locked, that’s the only way in here.” Kim pointed up at the window, thirty feet or so off the ground.

“Do we know for sure this is the guy’s ID?” Richard asked.

“No way to know until the coroner gets him down on the table and starts doing some tests. My guess is yes, though. That wallet hadn’t been here for very long. The hands are gone though we won’t be able to lift prints, there isn’t even a jaw left for him to do a dental impression so it’s gonna be a tough one.”

Richard snorted and shook his head. “So do you want to start holding your breath, or should I?” He stood up and started heading towards the door. “Pack him up to go, ladies and gentleman. Thank you.”

Kim shook her head and gazed around the slowly emptying room. The rusted smell of blood was still strong in the air. She had seen more than her share of violence over the years but this was on a level that was alien even to her, a level of rage and violence she hadn’t even known was possible. It troubled her to think that something like this could happen here, that someone capable of this was, at that moment, out there walking the streets and alleys, ready for more. There was no longer any hope that these had been isolated incidents and the only thing that was clear was that there were going to be a lot more bodies before this was over.

She shivered as a sound caught her attention from far above. For just a moment, she thought she had heard the sound of wings beating the air, somewhere out of sight up in the darkening night sky.
Thank you for taking the time to visit the blog, I hope you enjoyed the story! If you did, I hope you'll consider sharing this story via your social media of choice below, or even leave me a comment!. You can also subscribe above to receive email notifications of new content when it is available. All text content is the exclusive property of the author, Chad A. Clark and is intended solely for the purposes of viewing online. Any copying, downloading or re-distribution is strictly prohibited.

©2014 Chad A. Clark      All Rights Reserved

A special message from the author

I just wanted to take a moment and thank all of you who have taken an interest in these stories and continue to visit and read my words. I hope you have enjoyed the time.

This most recent issue represents one full year of stories here at the Baked Scribe. It has been my honor and privilege to be able to present these to you and the accomplishment of a life long dream.

Look to your book retailer of choice early next year as I will be releasing my next book, A Shade For Every Time. This will include the entire first year of stories from the Baked Scribe, 82 in all.

I hope you all are having a great week. Thank you again for your support.

Issue #82 : In Distress

The car was parked along the side of the highway. Jess leaned forward towards the wheel to get a better angle through her own windshield and unconsciously eased off of the gas pedal. Even by the light of the moon, she could see that the windows were so fogged up with condensation that it was impossible to see inside but how could there really be anyone in there. It was 2:30 in the morning and if someone was just hanging out in that car, chances were good that whatever was going on in there, she probably didn’t want to walk in on it.

As she passed, she caught a flash from the corner of her eye as the dome light inside the car came on. She craned her neck around to see, sure that she must have just caught a reflection off the moon. Her second look verified what she had seen though, as the light was indeed on. It wasn’t important. Just a car, nothing that she hadn’t seen before. Still, something tugged at the back of her mind, a need to make sure the person back there didn’t need help. How would she feel if the next day she turned on the news to find out that some guy had died from a heart attack there on the side of the road, watching cars pass him by until it was too late?

Jess took the next exit and turned onto the surface road which ran adjacent to the freeway. She drove to the next on ramp and re-entered the highway, driving slower as she watched the shoulder for the car. She saw it up ahead just before the bend and pulled up behind it on the shoulder. Somehow, in the openness of the area around her there still seemed to be an echo from the door chime of her car as she opened the door, the crunch of the gravel under her feet as she stepped out.

The car was some kind of generic sedan, reminding her of the cars her grandparents would drive them around in as children. The motor wasn’t running and there was no indication of movement inside. Save for the fogged windows, she saw no sign of life inside.

“Hello?” her call was quickly absorbed into the increasingly brittle wind and she received no answer. She stepped closer to the car, moving carefully towards the drivers door. It was as if invisible fingers were reaching out from the darkness and brushing against her neck. Her skin felt electric, as if her hands and feet were falling asleep.

“Hello?” she called out again, leaning in closer to the window and with one hand reaching out as if to rap a knuckle on the glass. It hovered there without actually carrying through with the intended action while still no response was received from within.

Jess reached out and placed a hand onto the door handle, fingers trembling against the cool, moist surface. Her breath was starting to come in ragged hitches, fully expecting something to jump out at her, to burn her hand for the offense of intruding where she shouldn’t have been.

She yanked her hand free at the sound of an air horn blasting behind her. A semi blew past her with a rush of air and sound that pushed her up against the car. She turned to glare, long enough to catch a glimpse in the darkness of a giant yellow smiley face on the backside of the rig. In the wake of the truck’s passing and in the newly found silence, she thought for a moment that she had heard someone moving around inside, an exhalation of breath followed by the car shifting slightly.

“Is anyone in there?”

Another sound, again almost too quick to hear but even that split second she had an image of them as children at a slumber party, shushing each other before the parents came in to shut down the fun.

Don’t open the door!

The voice was her own, spoken from the deepest bridge where the unconscious crossed over into conscious thought. She wanted to listen, to take heed, but it was the other part of her brain, the one that reminded her that it was more important to put others before yourself, that voice was the one that ultimately won out and made it impossible to move away from the car.

Don’t open the door!

Her hand made its way back down to the handle, was sliding on the moisture as it pulled up, hesitating at the resistance from the bolt inside the door, the scintilla of added applied force that would be needed to open the door.

Don’t…

The voice was pleading now, but also sounding resigned to whatever path she was determined to set herself onto. Another voice of responsibility was lecturing her now, on the importance of people’s privacy. You couldn’t just go around, letting yourself into whatever car you felt like.

She had to do this.

What if she was the one trapped inside the car, slowly bleeding to death, or worse? Maybe a broken leg, or having just had a stroke, the door just out of reach and unable to respond to the other person’s calls. If the situation were reversed, wouldn’t she be mentally admonishing the person for taking so long to just open the damned door?

This was stupid. Why did she pull over in the first place if it wasn’t to try and help this person? If she happened to interrupt some random person in the middle of sticking it to the nanny she would just have to live with that embarrassment. She had a momentary flush of possibility as it occurred to her to simply call the police and report it. But what would they say, really? What would happen if she filed a report on what ended up being a parked car?

Don’t open the door.

She grabbed the handle and lifted, pulling the door open and peeking inside. The door made a wet, popping sound, as if it had been stuck. From the inside, the car began to chime softly, indicating that the keys were still in the ignition. No one was sitting in either one of the front two seats, although she could have sworn that she had seen the mark of fading condensation on the leather seat, the way it looks after someone stands up after being seated for long periods of time.

“Hello?” she called out again but nobody answered. From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw movement again and for the first time she heard a raspy sound of breathing, labored as if whoever it was back there was in a great deal of pain. Jess kept her hands braced against the roof of the car, ready to shove off and start sprinting towards her car if she had to, and stuck her head through the door. The backseat was also empty. She felt like smacking herself on the head for her idiocy. She didn’t understand why she allowed herself to get so worked up. Somebody had car trouble and had gone off for help, or had called a cab. Harmless. They must have just left the dome-light on by—

Something brushed past her from behind.

Jes screamed so loudly that she actually startled herself. There was no one there but she felt the distinct sensation of bodies brushing past her like in a crowded hallway. She had heard footsteps. Her panic spiked and in that moment, of needing to act, to be anywhere but here, she sat down in the driver’s seat, behind the wheel, and slammed the door behind her.

The inside of the car wasn’t merely quiet. What she felt was the complete absence of sound, a vacuum in which even just her breathing was amplified several times louder than it should have been. It was a cold feeling that she associated with funeral homes, places where you caught glimpses into things that you weren’t supposed to see in this life.

This was like being in the presence of death.

Still, footsteps sounded outside, circling the car at a slow, shambling pace, the car occasionally shifting as if someone was bumping into it as they passed. She had to repress the urge to slap her hand against the door lock, knowing somehow that it would do no good.

Her breathing was starting to echo in her head until she began to realize that it wasn’t just her own breaths that she was hearing. They could be heard beside her and from behind. She could feel the sobbing already catching in her throat, crying out at herself for not choosing to simply drive on, screaming at her to reach for the door release, to try and escape even though it was likely too late. She heard what sounded like metal scraping across a sharp edge.

Outside, a dark colored bird fluttered down out of the night sky and alighted on the roof of the parked car. It stood there for a moment, preening in the moonlight until a shrieking cry ripped out from the inside, startling it back into flight.

Inside the car, the dome light flipped off into darkness.



Thank you for taking the time to visit the blog, I hope you enjoyed the story! If you did, I hope you'll consider sharing this story via your social media of choice below, or even leave me a comment!. You can also subscribe above to receive email notifications of new content when it is available. All text content is the exclusive property of the author, Chad A. Clark and is intended solely for the purposes of viewing online. Any copying, downloading or re-distribution is strictly prohibited.

©2014 Chad A. Clark      All Rights Reserved