Desert Proof

Taking a little break from work and recharging my study of HTML to try my hand at another Twittering Tale hosted by Kat.


Deep in the desolate desert, a rumored oasis sits.
Shawn’s dad swore it was there but warned that it’s a wasteland for society’s failures to quell their thirst.
Ten long days he traveled and at the end of the tenth night, ‘THIS IS IT’ glowed in the darkness.
Now he sits and drinks.

Characters: 280
Words: 53
© Jo Creative PTSD Gal


I had mentioned earlier about possibly trying to publish some of my short stories let me know what you think. I’ll start adding polls to my short stories for input. Comments are welcome as well.

 

Deli Crimes

I had time today to do this little quick dark story up for the Friday Fictioneers and thought if I took all my short stories of 200 words or less and put them into a collection would anyone purchase to read? I’d like to think I’m getting good at these. Thoughts?


Crime scene tape long weathered away. The only remains of the murders is this shell of a building. The town nominated the old market as a shelter during disasters since it was the only building with its own well and generator. The owner, old man Cecil owned the store but it was his daughter that ran the deli. Each week a newly sliced deli sandwich cleverly named such as ‘Texas Two Step Brisket,’ combo would be featured on the menu, ‘for a LIMITED TIME’ always preceded the title. The dark truth of multiple victims followed the headlines, ‘Deli Sliced Nightmare.’

Word Count: 100
© Jo Creative PTSD Gal

Have you seen a lassie?

I thought I would be able to get my Havamal study and writing done this morning but the snow came in (not as much as was predicted) and that warranted some attention so I could get to work. I have been working on this little short story since I was nominated by Matthew over at Normal Happenings for his prompt the Monster In The Dell. I got to choose a nursery rhyme and try to turn it into a nightmare of sorts. I have to admit I was stumped at first then really wanted to do more like this. Oh, also, beware the content is for mature audiences which are also not of my norm. I’m just stepping out all over the place today.


Did you ever see a lassie, a lassie, a lassie? A once upon a time innocent nursery rhyme is now forever associated with one of the most horrific crimes in our town’s history and sung as a warning reminder by the remaining innocent children. For those not familiar with the game that goes with the rhyme; children would form a circle with a single child in the middle and when the song was over the child would perform an action and the circling children would imitate. Then the process would repeat. The circle and game changed in 1962.

Best was a small Texas town that had the picturesque quiet living community where families lived the American dream. Houses full of families, a butcher that knew you by name, a paperboy with true aim, block parties full of games, gossip, and food, and the quiet neighbor that all the children adored. The quiet man, Gregg, always kept snacks and juice for the kids as they played on the playground equipment behind his house. It wasn’t until after the investigation and trial that Best learned the fate of their children and of their neighbor’s true nature.

The radio crackled, ‘In breaking news, Best citizens are still searching for seven of their children that have been missing for seven days. They were last seen playing in the community park. If anyone has any information please contact the local police department.’ Monster Mash started to playing with October 31st being the seventh day into the search for the missing children. ‘Have you ever seen a lassie, a lassie, a lassie could be heard over monster mash. I could see my Susy playing with four other children in the park from my window. It was getting time to get her in her costume so I headed that direction when I noticed Emma, Susy’s friend in the middle of the children flopping around on the ground. The kids do the weirdest actions for the other kids to follow in this game. Walking towards the children I could see blood pooling around Emma’s tiny body. The other kids seemed to have been in a trance of some sort and a record player was nearby playing the nursery rhyme.

The closer I got the stronger I could smell copper. Emma’s tiny body was being mutilated by a man in a mask. Not a Halloween mask but one that was made from an animal hide of some sort. What happened next was all a blur. I remember screaming then trying to push the kids away from the center of the circle. They just fell over staring in off not fixing on anything. Some were making gurgling sounds some were in a catatonic state. I picked up the radio and blocked the knife-wielding masked man and then everything went black.

‘A young mother discovered the gruesome scene of a murder in progress possibly saving the lives of other unnamed children. Gregory Church has pleaded guilty to a total of thirteen murders.’ I sat there cradling my child realizing how close I was to losing her. Greg was actually the leader of a cult that believed in sacrificing innocent children to please his God. The investigation proved that he had several followers in our small town of Best and that he and they were responsible for the other seven missing children. The nursery rhyme he played helped him drug the children. He would give them all cups of poison and they would follow his lead as he drank from an empty cup. A neighbor heard my scream that day and tackled Greg to the ground before killing me. This allowed other people in the community to come and help the children and notify the authorities. Gregg got greedy on Halloween night and he was caught. If he had waited who knows what other town and what other nursery rhyme he would have destroyed.

As the town got older the incident turned into a memory that spawned several different versions. But the one thing that remains true throughout each version is the nursery rhyme. Kids sing it as a way to warn and remind others of what happened and that one of the members weren’t caught in 1962.

© Jo Create PTSD Gal

Prompt: August The Doll Maker

Back to my goals of writing and plan on catching up on my classes here soon. This means I have to push myself instead of curling up in my recliner brooding over bullshit that I can’t handle. Yes, this isn’t my best work but it’s something. I took August’s prompt words and created a short story.


August the Doll Maker
lawyer justifies beliefs

‘The headline read: Lawyer Justifies Beliefs.’ It was difficult not to follow the doll maker’s story. Growing up we were told not to go in the north woods where a society of witch crafting people dwelled. It was rumored that the witches that lived in the woods would steal children and keep them stored in their cellars like we would keep pickled vegetable and jam for the winter months. I turned the page to read about the wide-eyed doll that was the key evidence in the crime.

The doll creator, August, being charged with murder was a feeble man that everyone in our town felt sorry for and purchased his creations as often as possible. They weren’t your run of the mill homemade crocheted dolls or something that you see everyone on a Pinterest DIY mom board try to recreate. No. For a man living in the woods created beautiful, delicate, yet resilient dolls that stood the test of time. I actually have one of his sitting on my mantle that was my mother’s. I cringed looking at the doll and back down at the paper.

The doll maker’s picture in the paper made him look more domineering than weak and I found an absence of sorrow for him. ‘The bodies of 3 missing kids and cow were found during the search of the property.’ I felt betrayed more than anything as I’m sure the entire town was feeling, reading the same paper. We trusted this man believing he was trying to launch a business so he and his family wouldn’t go hungry, but that wasn’t the case. He didn’t have a family to feed he had crimes to cover. ‘The surviving victim stated that he was supposed to be part of the next line of products. Lamps were something that his kidnapper would work on almost every night by the light of his own old coal oil lamp. August wanted to bring back the antique light sources.’

The paper continued ‘August struggled with creating a voice box that mooed for his farm animal line of dolls and was some of his most recent unsuccessful creations.’ I remember those mooing dolls. They were hideous cow shaped monstrosities that he was very pushy about selling. The sound after pulling the cord on the animal’s back wasn’t a moo but more of a cow being slaughtered. I nervously laughed that day, struggling with politely refusing the purchase. I crossed the street that day and turned to see a child clinging to his mother as the doll maker realized that he was losing another sale. The image of the survivor that was pictured in the paper was the same child that clung to his mother that day. The child looked as if he aged overnight full of wisdom and advice.  I guess a traumatic experience would do that to any person.

I finished my cereal while reading the article. ‘The doll maker believed that sacrifices had to be made to live in today’s society stated his lawyer. While the lawyer curved this reporter’s questions of black magic and the death of children he did state that his client was mentally unstable to stand trial and his medical team will ensure that his client will get all the medical treatment necessary and are diligent in his care. He is asking for the death penalty to be removed as part sentencing and a life without parole be considered instead. The lawyer also stated that his beliefs are justified as many people pray for survival in this world. He shouldn’t be persecuted for his religion and solely on his crimes that don’t warrant death as he was delusional about how to worship. The doll that was gathered for evidence was created from his previous victims discovered through forensic testing and the police are asking that anyone with a doll created by the defendant to bring it to the police station.’ I clapped my hands together afraid to touch the poor soul sitting on my shelf and instead ran and dialed the local PD to remove the doll.

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