Monster Mash 2018 Entry - The Summoner

My entry to the Monster Mash 2018 Blog Hop.  

 The Summoner

Jack remembered how she’d said it repeatedly in an attempt to placate him. It’d always worked. ‘I love you.’ He wished he’d recorded it and kept it for himself. But it was too late now. 

Only the basement was left, where he’d kept her, with the trappings of each step of the planned transformation. She’d resisted at first, as most of the women he abducted off the streets did, but with persistence she’d relinquished and performed better than any other. 

Each night and at each stage she’d become more wordless. In the end it was only those three words that she’d been able to say. It had been part of the process. 

And now it was time to speak another incantation, because now it was time to complete the conversion. He’d undertaken each step as the book had said: he’d waited the required three years, returning to the place of burial on significant dates and performing the ritual. Now it was time for the final rite. 

He arrived early in the graveyard. He wanted to make sure he didn’t miss the strike of midnight. He found the tree he’d buried her under easily in the dark, he’d been so many times. He set out all the objects and the cloth and prepared the candles. Then he sat cross-legged for a moment, eyes closed, clearing his mind, summoning his energy. 

When he opened them, one minute was left before the first clock strike. He could see the tower from this side of the municipal graveyard. It was why he’d picked the spot. Others might’ve used their own gardens for privacy, but Jack found it easier to find privacy in public. People were less suspicious when you were out in the open, especially at night in a graveyard on Halloween. 

This thought caused him to glance round. Was he alone? He had to make sure; he didn’t want anything to go wrong. This had to be performed correctly or it could have disastrous consequences – not just for him, but for the townsfolk too. 

But he could see and hear no movement besides the breeze rippling the leaves in the tree above him, and rustling the tops of the grass, bushes and shrubs. He turned back to his buried treasure, hoping to hear those words again.

With the first strike of the clock he began to recite the words. He knew them off by heart. With each clock strike, the energy built. By the fifth the ground had started to lift, and by the tenth she was free of the ground and rising to meet him. When the twelfth struck it was as though someone had brought her out of hypnosis and she blinked, speaking the words he’d been longing to hear: ‘I love you’, but in chorus with a hundred other voices. 

He turned to find she wasn’t the only one risen: all around the graveyard other bodies had risen too.

But they hadn’t been prepared like she had: their limbs were in various states of decay, remnants of clothing hanging from their bones, putrefied and shambling. And more importantly they hadn’t received the intermittent invocations and anointments he’d brought over the last three years. What had risen couldn’t be tamed; it possessed demons Jack couldn’t control. He’d opened the entire graveyard to the dark realm unprotected. What had he done?

He scurried to pick up his ritual tools, his love stepping forward ready to be taken, but there was no time for that now; the fantasy of midnight love-making in a graveyard gone. 

The bodies were moving toward their summoner. He needed to get out of here. He grabbed his lover’s hand intending to take her to the safety of his car, but there were so many of them, their silent shuffling portending a fate he’d only imagined for his enemies. 

Jack was not a physically strong man, it’s one of the reasons he’d turned to the dark arts. He might be able to best a petite female and bundle her into his boot, but to fight a horde of undead infused with demonic power, not a chance. 

He tried to skirt them but they came from every direction, grasping onto his catatonic lover and dragging her down. He watched them take her, still trying to break free, but before he knew it his life force was being drained, his body abused, his life blood taken. His only consolation knowing that humanity would shortly be meeting the same end. 

#MonsterMash #MM2018 Blog Hop

One of my favourite flash competitions has been resurrected:

The Halloween #MonsterMash Blog hop! 

Laura James is hosting, along with long time friends Cara Michaels and Ruth Long. 

You can write your piece and post in on your blog, then add it to the Linky Link over on Laura's site: Get Wordy. 

If you want to write for it, but don't have a blog, you can ask me, or any of the organisers if they will host it for you. 

Go on, bring out your Monsters!

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 77

This week's image was taken by Adnan Bubalo a photograper over on 500px. Simply called Country Roads, they have some incredible shots. 

This one I heard the minute I saw the picture. It's a different and a little seasonal.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Tricky 

I ran down the road trying not to trip over my own feet. I looked over my shoulder making sure they weren’t following me. It was misty, there was no telling; they could come over the rise of the road at any moment.

I clutched my bag to my chest, knowing that dropping it would be bad. The contents could not, under any circumstances see the light of day, if they did, I’d be in trouble – more trouble than those chasing me could ever pose.

I wasn’t sure how long I could keep up this pace. It had been a while since I’d gotten myself into such a predicament. Despite this, I couldn’t stifle a smile. There was nothing quite like getting up to mischief; they didn’t call me Tricky for nothing.

I couldn’t resist a loud guffaw as I continued to run. It seemed to spike my adrenaline and gave me a boost. And I’d need it - the sound of horse’s hooves was coming up behind me – more than one set. I needed to get creative on the run.

I could just put my hand in the bag, but that was cheating. I had my own abilities to draw on. I pictured what I wanted in my head. It was simple, it was clean and no one would get harmed, although they wouldn’t think so. Another guffaw escaped my lips. Oh I was so wicked sometimes; it was perfect.

I muttered a few words as I ran, shouting the last over my shoulder. I heard yells and profanity along with a whooshing noise. The neighing got pretty loud as I glanced overhead, watching them clinging on for dear life as the horses stretched their new wings. They had no way of reining them in, so the horses were finally free – long overdue in my mind. Nothing worse than a human who breaks another animal’s spirit and uses them as slaves.

Humans. There I go again, separating myself from them as though I weren’t one of them. But then they didn’t consider me one of them, so why should I?

Now I’d dealt with them, I could slow down. The sun was rising and burning through the mist. I had to decide whether it was wise to remain on this path or whether I should seek refuge: find a dwelling, somewhere dark and bunker down, a chance to explore the contents of my bag. I could decide whether it was worth the risk holding on to it or whether it would benefit me to return it to its owner.

His ire toward those who had taken it had not yet been appeased. I could let him continue terrorising them, but eventually it would lead him to me. And there was no doubt in my mind that he could easily find me – someone who could create such an object had no trouble tracking anyone.

It also begged the question of whether he knew it was in my possession. He might already know I have it. His henchmen might already be on their way to me!

I stumbled on the uneven ground as I picked up pace across the fields, heading to the great forest that covered this part of the country.

I think I was decided. Befriending someone of his ilk far outweighed the tricks I could pull with this object. I had to get it to him. I had to make it look like that had been my intention all along.

I stayed on course, a plan formulating in my mind. Benefit me, yes, definitely. That was the way to go. We could be great friends he and I. 

Review of Wizard and Glass, Book 4 of Stephen King's Dark Tower Series

Wizard and Glass by Stephen King
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Despite having read this before, it felt like I was reading it for the first time; I had only a vague recollection of what had happened and the characters, and I had no recollection of the end! Although it left a smile on my face, because I love how Stephen King ties up so many of his books into The Dark Tower - although he explains why in the afterword.

Wizard & Glass is such an immersive tale. For days I felt like I was living in Hambry and surrounded by the world of Meijis; Stephen King creates such a sense of the place with his perfectly worded descriptions, and not only sight, but smell and feel too. I became completely emotionally invested, feeling both the heights of the passion Roland and Susan felt as well the lows - I even cried.

And coming back out of the world, when we rejoin the Ka-tet of Roland, Eddie, Susannah, Jake and Oy, it was difficult although everything was tied up nicely and related well. I love how Stephen King mixes in real life cultural (all be it, white western cultural) referencing to carry the story - the Wizard of Oz tie-in was genius.

I look forward to reading on.

And if you haven't ever endeavoured into the world of The Dark Tower, I urge you to do so, for the ultimate in an all encompassing experience.

And as a side note: I don't know who picked the illustrators for these hardbacks, but so far I have been unimpressed. In this one I didn't like them at all. They didn't reflect the story well at all. They were quite peculiar. 

View all my reviews

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 76

This week's picture is from Melbourne painter Jeremy Geddes. He has some incredible art - some of the pieces just make me go 'wow'. You can check out some of his work on his site, although sadly this piece is not on there, although another site did feature it, and it is part of his Cosmonaut series.

I'm interested in what others might make of this, I struggled to find something unique, although a recent episode of Ancient Aliens sparked this one.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Earthnaut

He knew it would come in handy when he’d bought it, even though his girlfriend at the time thought he was foolish. He’d made sure it was fully working too. He even paid half a year’s salary to test it out in zero gravity – man that was fun! It was big and clumpy to move about in, but in zero gravity it felt light and spacious. He’d been worried about claustrophobia but it was like being in his own capsule.

He still remembered how his ex had laughed at him when he’d first put it on – who was laughing now? Not her that’s for sure.

He’d had an inkling how things were going to go. He’d had his ear to the underground wave of information – all the conspiracy theories. People scoffed and outright laughed, but not him. There were a few that kept popping up time and again with a little bit more information, and a little bit more plausibility.

Things had ramped up: politics going to extremes, weather going to extremes, and people speaking out in the extreme. Few knew who to believe about anything. Fake news abound – and that’s when truth gets easily paraded and dismissed.

But Rod had watched it all, read it all and researched it all. He’d even contacted a few of the sources and been shown some things and taken to a few places. That’s when he’d started to prepare – especially when the whole Russian, North Korean and American thing kicked off. People thought it was about what was going on here, on Earth, but they had been wrong, oh so wrong. It was the skies they should have been looking at.

They’d been up there for years, you see – decades. And what was going on down here was actually a reflection of what was going up there – on the moon. People didn’t realise the noise in the media was a mask covering the truth behind the meetings between the three nations, or pick up on the hidden messages in the announcements.

But Rod had heard the meaning and prepared himself. His girlfriend had decided he was clearly a nutter and packed her bags. He didn’t care. It was all about survival of the fittest after all.

So when the explosions on the moon had started, and panic had gripped the world, Rod had calmly put on his suit and got ready. He’d filled his backpack with food and liquids that were created for space travel, and waited.

He had the news on, and they kept talking about ‘peace’ as though some alien nation was up there. But they weren’t aliens, they were humans. They were from a huge colony that had started back in the 60s.

Rod felt the air shift outside his suit and his oxygen tank kick in. His feet lifted up as did all the objects in the room. As anticipated, gravity was shifting as the explosions changed the moon’s axis and orbit. It would be a while before Earth found its new normal. Although right now it was the broken pieces of moon coming down that concerned Rod the most, the light from the meteors streaking across the sky and reflecting in his visor. 

Nothing like a bargain book, is there? 😃

Slipping Through is on Sale!

You can pick up the Kindle or the Epub version for just ￡0.99p!

Amazon UK

Amazon US

Smashwords

Kobo

It's only for a limited time so grab it while you can!

Containing two short stories and a novella, Slipping Through is a collection of other world tales: Journey into different dimensions with Logan & Elise, Vladimir & the Professor, and David & the Jester. 

“Bonkers brilliant.” – Michael Wombat, 

Author of The Raven’s Wing & Fog

“Intriguingly clever.” - Angela Lynn, 

Author of All The What Ifs & Of Lies & Zombies 

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 75

This week's picture prompt is by Patricia Brennan, an artist from the UK. She some wonderful fairytale like, literary-esk creations. Quite dreamy. She calls this one 'At the Stroke of Midnight'. You can view it over on her page at Deviant Art.

This little piece is influenced by the book I am currently reading - Wizard & Glass by Stephen King. So many dystopian stories talk of women being used to produce babies. I wondered what it would be like if it was the other way round.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Lissa's selection

She smoothed down the front of her dress. She’d never felt anything quite like it, the rough smooth sensation of the material they called ‘Silk’. She looked at herself in the reflective glass and didn’t recognise herself. Not that she’d seen herself often in such a thing, there weren’t many left in the small village she came from, but she had never been in a dress before - no one besides her mother had been.

Larissa had been a little stunned when her DNA had been selected. By rote everyone’s was taken when they turned sixteen, it was no big deal; just something they did like when they came and counted up the live stock and produce for distribution. She’d never heard of anyone locally qualifying since her mother. It had sent the place into quite a flutter. All the women had come and paid her tribute, all a gaggle over who’d she select for the new lines.

Her mother had taken her aside and given her some advice.

“Now, Lissa, the choices have been selected from the top one hundred. Those boys have the best seed this side of the ocean. They’ve also been trained in how best to serve you when the time comes. But remember, you want to pick at least three to start with.”

“Only three, Mama? They said I could pick up to ten?”

“Sweetie, remember you can only handle one at a time – well maybe two if you fancy it, but they can get pretty carried away – if you’re lucky!” Her mother nudged her with her elbow and giggled, and Lissa grinned. “Take your time, there’s no rush. You can only produce one child at a time, and three different seed will be enough in the short term.”

“Will it be hard having the babies, Mama? Rachel said it can do all sorts of terrible things to your body.”

“No, sweetie, that was back before the world changed, when it was the men who controlled everything. Times are different now woman are in charge. Everything will be taken care of properly. You’ll see. There’ll be daily massages, a special chef assigned to you who will cook the most wonderful nutritious stuff taking into account all the things you like. There’ll be nurses and midwives on call. A whole itinerary of things to keep you and the baby in your tummy occupied. It’s going to be so exciting.”

“Did you enjoy it Mama?”

“I had the best time, Lissa, the best.”Her mother put her hand to her face. “I’m so happy my first born is going to get the same opportunity, and it gives your sister’s hope too. I’m glad I picked so well.”

“I hope I pick well.”

“You will, hunny, you will.”

Larrissa took a deep breath and walked to the door of the ante-chamber, ready to enter the great hall where the boys were waiting and where she would greet them one by one. She hoped to find more than three to her liking, despite what her mother said. She planned to select at least ten today, and then try them all out, using protection initially of course. The next few weeks were going to be so exciting.