Widowmakers: A Benefit Anthology of Dark Fiction

by James Newman Benefit Anthology

  WIDOWMAKERS

  - AN ANTHOLOGY OF DARK FICTION –

  Copyright © 2014 by The James Newman Benefit Anthology

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without the author’s explicit written consent, except for the purposes of review

  Cover Design © 2014 by Keith Minnion

  http://www.keithminnionstudio.com/

  ISBN-13: 978-1501013232

  ISBN-10: 1501013238

  The stories in this book are works of fiction.

  Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the authors’ fertile imaginations or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual events, places or persons, living

  or dead, however miniscule, is entirely coincidental.

  FOREWORD

  by James Newman

  “Of the infinite variety of fruits which spring from the bosom of the Earth, the trees of the wood are the greatest in dignity.” - Susan Fenimore Cooper

  “It’s a trick. Get an axe.” - Ash, Army of Darkness

  On April 27, 2014, at approximately 1:00 p.m., my life changed forever. Sounds melodramatic, I admit. After all, there are folks whose tragic situations make what I have been through seem like nothing. There are parents whose children were abducted, mothers and fathers who have lost their kids to cancer, families split apart after military Moms or Dads were sent to serve in a foreign country and never came home.

  When I think about that, it puts things into perspective.

  I have a lot to be thankful for. I am truly blessed.

  Because it could have been so much worse.

  I could have died that day. I could have been paralyzed. The same could have happened to my wife, or to one of our boys.

  What happened to me… it’s not that bad.

  * * *

  My wife, Glenda, and I have spent the past two years making big changes in our lives. We decided to get healthy, not only in the hopes of dropping a few pounds, but more importantly to make sure our two sons follow our lead, eating right and getting plenty of regular exercise. We’ve been hiking for a while now, and a few months ago we bought mountain bikes. At every opportunity we load our bikes onto the back of my Honda Passport and go riding through the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains here in western North Carolina. We bought one of those carriages that attaches to the rear axle of my bike so I can pull our toddler along behind me (he gets a kick out of this, of course). That “outdoor time” with the family has built some of our best memories since Glenda and I got together nearly a quarter-century ago, and I wouldn’t trade our excursions for anything.

  But on April 27th we were forced to slam on the brakes for a little while. Figuratively speaking.

  We were biking in Pisgah Forest, a national park not far from the family practice where Glenda works as a nurse. All signs pointed to another perfect day. We had stopped for lunch at a busy picnic area; Glenda had packed turkey wraps, fruit, and Gatorade. After we finished eating we sat for a while, talking. The boys waded in the nearby river, but grew bored before with that before too long. They came back to the table and Jacob, our four-year-old, started misbehaving as toddlers often will, throwing apple cores at his brother, fifteen-year-old Jamie (*in a photo of the scene taken later, you can clearly see the last one he threw before disaster struck – my wife still bursts into tears every time she sees this photo).

  Glenda placed Jake in “time-out”, made him stand under a tree about twenty feet away.

  Without a doubt, Jake’s bad behavior saved his life that day. No more than a minute or two after she sent him away from the table, Glenda looked up and said, “Oh, my God.” We heard wood cracking, splintering – a terrible, ominous sound that will send a chill down my spine for the rest of my life.

  I looked up as Glenda cried, “That limb is falling!”

  I don’t recall seeing it fall. The next few seconds are a blur. I just remember Glenda and Jamie leaping out of the way.

  I tried to do the same.

  Cut to: me, on the ground, screaming. My sweetheart told me later that it was the most bloodcurdling thing she had ever heard.

  * * *

  I’ve been very lucky my whole life, as far as injuries go. I’ve only been in two fairly minor car accidents, when I was a teenager. I’ve gone “under the knife” just once (for hernia surgery in ’91) and I’ve never broken a bone . . . until April 27th.

  As I lay there, rocking back and forth on the ground after that massive limb knocked me down (“somebody please help me get it off of him,” I heard Glenda say, “it’s too heavy”), I remember thinking the pain was like nothing I had ever felt before. It hurt so bad I feared I would go insane if someone didn’t do something to make the pain go away – a shot, a pill, a stiff drink, punch me in the face and knock me out, ANYTHING please just make it GO AWAY! I glanced over at my left arm as I screamed, saw it flopping around on the ground like a fish out of water. Sweet Jesus, it was turned the wrong way. Meanwhile, my back was broken too. Although I had no idea what a broken back feels like, I knew it as surely as I knew I’d be calling off work for the next day or two. It was like a cement truck had parked on my lower spine, and whatever moron decided to park it there didn’t plan on moving any time soon.

  I heard a siren growing closer in the distance (that’s for me, I remember thinking through my agony, holy shit, that’s for me, this is BAD) as I yelled “It hurts, it hurts!” like a vampire sprinkled with holy water . . . as I asked the strangers who ran to my aid if my family was okay . . . as I begged those heads hovering over me to promise me I wasn’t paralyzed.

  I’m gonna stop there with the rehash of what happened that day. Most of you have heard it before. If not, you can find the whole story on Glenda’s Facebook page. I won’t get into the details of my subsequent surgeries, the rehab, or the medical jargon listing all the damage that fallen limb did to my body (I still have a hard time making sense of that stuff myself, and if it wasn’t for Glenda playing translator I still wouldn’t have a clue what most if it meant). I’ll refrain from talking about how many hundreds of thousands of dollars we’re gonna owe to half of the orthopedic specialists in western North Carolina by the time this is all said and done. I’m in a pretty good mood today, and thinking about that just gets me depressed.

  It’s the kindness of strangers I want to talk about before I wrap this up.

  As long as I live, I will never forget the vast generosity shown to my family by complete strangers, from the moment of impact until now. It’s been so overwhelming, and I must say it has forced me to rethink my previously cynical outlook on my fellow man. Once upon a time, I was convinced that most people don’t give a shit about anyone but themselves. Since that day in Pisgah Forest, I’ve learned I was wrong. People are basically good, and more often than not they won’t hesitate to help someone in need. When I think about all that has been done for my family, it gives me goose bumps the likes of which I haven’t felt since I first started reading books and watching movies about “things that go bump in the night.”

  During the chaos shortly after that limb fell on me, I recall dozens of strangers running across the park to stand by my side. Men and women, young and old. They came from every direction, dropping their hot dogs, their slices of watermelon, their Frisbees, and their fishing poles without hesitation. I was out of my mind with pain, but I could have sworn some of them crawled out of the ground or descended from the clouds to offer help.

  Complete strangers, not hesitating for a moment to help a family in dis
tress.

  I claim to be a writer. Some folks have called me a pretty good one. Yet I find myself at a loss for words when I try to describe what that feels like.

  * * *

  Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to all of my peers. Many of you are writers I grew up reading, genre legends who influenced me. Back then, when I was shamelessly attempting to ape your style, dreaming of seeing my name next to yours on my bookshelves, if someone had told me that you would graciously donate your time and creativity to help out my family during some of the darkest days we’ve ever known . . . well, I would’ve insisted that someone must have had a tree dropped on his head. ‘Cause . . . this is crazy. Crazy in a good way. I will never forget what you’ve done for me. I hope I make you proud.

  Thanks to my dear friends and family. I’ve never felt so loved as I have felt these last two months. If I didn’t know it before, you’ve shown me what it would mean to you if I wasn’t around anymore. I love you back more than you will ever know.

  Thank you to my readers. It still blows my mind that there are people who not only spend their hard-earned money on stuff I write, but they love it and talk others into spending money on stuff I write. Man, that’s the coolest feeling in the world. I appreciate each and every one of you.

  Thanks to Pete Kahle, of course, who masterminded this whole thing. You’re a special guy, Pete, and I’m proud to call you my pal.

  And last but certainly not least . . . thank YOU, the person reading this book. Chances are, you belong to one of the aforementioned groups, or all of the above. Or maybe you belong to none of them – perhaps you just had a few bucks burning a hole in your pocket and you thought Keith Minnion’s cover art kicks ass (I agree!). Whatever the case, thank you for buying this anthology. You’re gonna have a blast with it. There is so much talent here.

  More than a few of you have told me since my accident – via e-mail, Facebook, on the phone, or face-to-face – that I can repay all that you’ve done for me by simply writing more stories for you to enjoy.

  Fair enough. I’m already working on it.

  At the same time, I look forward to sweet revenge.

  Books are made out of paper. Paper is made out of trees.

  Yeah, I plan to be more prolific than ever.

  Starting . . . right . . . NOW.

  - James Newman (w/Glenda, Jamie and Jake)

  June 10, 2014

  Figure 1 - The infamous widowmaker of Pisgah Forest

  CONTENTS

  Foreword – James Newman ii

  Death to Trees! - Jeff Strand 1

  Conversations Kill – Tim Waggoner 7

  Impressions in Oak – Ronald Kelly 21

  Medicine Man – Donn Gash 34

  She Called him Sky – Mercedes M. Yardley 51

  In the Bones – Bracken MacLeod 55

  Contemplating Corners – Rose Blackthorn 73

  Ever Green – Pete Kahle 77

  The Guy Down the Street – Ray Garton 92

  Hearts in Reverse - Usman T. Malik 139

  Cages – Peter Giglio 157

  Vegetarians Don’t Bite - Jack Bantry 167

  The Kid in the Werewolf Mask - Tom Martin 173

  Our Lady of Sloth and Scarlet Ivy - Brian Hodge 178

  Burls - Norman Prentiss 192

  A Walk in the Park – Brandon Ford 210

  Grownups – Paul Anderson 233

  Gram Knows - Glen Krisch 245

  Hazel’s Twin - Tracy L. Carbone 267

  Molting - Robert Essig 274

  Baptism - Kit Power 287

  The Lynnwood Vampires - Patrick Lacey 292

  Fear of Fish - Elizabeth Massie 311

  Dead Gods: Book One - James A. Moore 321

  Sperare Victor - Tim Marquitz 382

  Moonshine - Brett Williams 392

  Iphigenia - Gary A. Braunbeck 403

  Angel and Grace - Ed Kurtz 423

  ArborEATum - Evans Light 444

  The Lurker - Gary Fry 497

  Widowmaker - B. E. Burkhead 512

  Home - J. F. Gonzalez 515

  Deafening Silence - Mir Plemmons 534

  Collateral Casualties - Maurice Broaddus 538

  The Ghosts of Monsters - Brian Keene 544

  Splinterette - John Palisano 551

  The Monster - Joseph W. Miles 560

  Don’t You Want to Play With Us? - Shane McKenzie 570

  Beyond this Tangled Loathsome Wood

  - Mary Genevieve Fortier 589

  Late Lunch at The Eddie Bear – Shawna L. Bernard 592

  God Be Damned - T.G. Arsenault 607

  Peggy Sang the Blues - Jenny Orosel 618

  Santa’s Little Spy - Mark Allan Gunnells 628

  The Beautiful Lady Without Pity:

  A Carnacki the Ghost-Finder Adventure

  - Charles R. Rutledge 645

  Things Happen Here After Dark - Sheri White 669

  When Karen Met Her Mountain - Todd Keisling 681

  A Church in the Middle of Nowhere

  - Michelle Garza & Melissa Lason 712

  “I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses.”

  ― Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

  “In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they're still beautiful.”

  – Alice Walker

  “Let us learn to appreciate there will be times when the trees will be bare, and look forward to the time when we may pick the fruit.”

  – Anton Chekhov

  “I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree.”

  – Joyce Kilmer

  “I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees. I speak for the trees for the trees have no tongues.”

  Dr. Seuss, The Lorax

  Death to Trees!

  by Jeff Strand

  Jeff Strand is the four-time Bram Stoker Award-nominated author of such novels as PRESSURE, DWELLER, and A BAD DAY FOR VOODOO, but his greatest accomplishment was wiring the foreword for James Newman's collection PEOPLE ARE STRANGE.

  "I want them gone," said James Newman. "All of them. Every single one."

  Percy, James' assistant, shifted uncomfortably as he stood. "Trees, sir?"

  "Yes."

  "Ah." Percy shifted some more, scratched his elbow, glanced down at his feet for a moment, glanced up at the ceiling for another moment, cleared his throat, and then looked back at James. "Don't you think that's a bit extreme?"

  "Extreme?" James held up his cast-covered arm. "Is this not extreme? Is the shattering of bones that were comfortably nestled within flesh and muscle not extreme?"

  "It's quite extreme, sir, but it was just one branch--"

  "Just one branch? Just one branch? If just one branch could turn me into this mangled wreck of a man, think what the rest of them could do if they joined forces! All trees must be destroyed!"

  "But, sir, trees do serve an important role in our ecosystem."

  "Speak to me of ecosystems again and I'll have your head! Every tree! Gone! By nightfall! And then I want them burned, roots and all!"

  "Burned...?"

  "Yes. I won't have them transformed into houses or paper or wooden horses! That's too good for those bastards! I want them burned, and then I want the ashes vacuumed up, and then I want the vacuums burned, and then I want the ashes buried in the desert!"

  "Sir, please," said Percy. "Listen to reason. Your injuries will heal in time, and then you'll realize that the complete destruction of all trees on our planet is going too far!"

  James gave Percy the most chilling look that one human being had ever given another in the entire history of chilling looks. It was a look so chilling that if James had gazed upon it himself, he might have realized the true extent of his descent into madness. Sadly, the room had no mirror.

  "I'll get right on it, sir," said Percy.

  Percy left and shut the door behind him. Glenda, Ja
mes's wife, stood in the hallway, looking radiant as always in her gown. With a quick nod she sent away her handmaidens so she and Percy could speak in private.

  "Please, Glenda, you must talk sense into him. We can't get rid of all the trees. I love revenge as much as the next man, but this...this..."

  "What my husband wants, my husband gets."

  "This is too much power for one man!"

  Glenda narrowed her eyes. "Tell me, Percy, did you write Midnight Rain?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "And who did?"

  "James Newman."

  "So until you write something like Midnight Rain, I'll ask you not to judge my husband."

  "But it's insanity! His thirst for vengeance has poisoned his mind! Couldn't we just destroy the tree that dropped the branch on him? I'll take him there myself. We'll kick the crap out of that thing. We'll hire a professional voice artist to pretend to be the tree and go 'Ow! Ow! Please don't kick me, Mr. Newman!' while we're doing it. If he's still not sated, we'll burn down the park. But to do this on a worldwide scale...please, Glenda..."

  Glenda gave Percy a look that was even more chilling than the look he'd received from James. (It was the fastest that the world record for Most Chilling Look had ever been beaten.) "You'll do as instructed, or I'll find somebody who will. And if you're interpreting that as you being laid off instead of executed, you're misinterpreting my comment."

  Percy nodded.

  And so he began to make the necessary calls. Most of the recipients reacted with "Huh? What? Seriously?" but they knew that if James Newman wanted global tree extermination, James Newman got global tree extermination.

  It began. Forests fell. Children wailed as their treehouses were blown apart by explosives. That one tree that's so big that you can drive through a hole in the center was hacked apart by butcher knives. There was a ghastly tragedy when somebody included "family tree" in the equation, but fortunately he only had nine relatives. Pine trees, spruce trees, birch trees, tall trees and short trees, deciduous and evergreen...all met their demise.