Cold Fear
A Novel
By: Tim Friesenhahn
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Terror Tract Publishing LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected]
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First paperback edition 2019
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ISBN: (paperback)
ISBN: (ebook)
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PART ONE
Chapter 1
“Please, sir. I’ll do whatever you want, just don't hurt me.” Little Gary Williams pleaded with the masked man.
His nickname didn’t quite suit him, though; he was unusually tall for a fourteen-year-old. The masked man caught him in the middle of an act he wishes he’d never done.
Little Gary had a problem, he had an uncontrollable urge to hurt animals. The masked man clubbed him from behind when he was in the middle of trying to set a dying cat on fire.
The boy never saw the old man coming. Wincing his eyes, he tried to get a view of his surroundings, but it was dark where he was. All he could see was the flicker of the candle that the masked man held at the top of the stairwell.
His voice was raspy as he spoke, “I am sorry child, but my master, my father, he needs to be fed.”
Little Gary began to cry out as the man with the mask on spoke.
No, it wasn't a mask but a black veil, Gary realized. Yeah, he was sure that's what it was.
Like a veil a widow would wear at her husband’s funeral. He knew it because it looked like the one his mother had worn at his father’s funeral.
The masked man turned away and slammed the door.
What had he meant when he said his master had to be fed? Gary thought to himself as tears streamed down his face.
All he wanted was his mother, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. When his father died, his mother changed. Once upon a time she was a typical Texas housewife, but all that disappeared after his father passed.
He cried helplessly. Though his mother would rather find another bottle before she found him, he still wanted her. He ran up the dark stairs and was about to bang on the door begging to be let free, but froze when he heard a strange noise come from below the stairway.
A small gleam of light began to shine through the far wall at the end of the dusky room. A tall, dark silhouette stood in the glimmer of light as it faded. Suddenly, Gary was standing before the shadow. Tears running from his eyes down his face, he couldn't comprehend how he went from the top of the stairway to where he stood without noticing. The figure approached him, it must have stood eight feet tall and was three feet wide. The air surrounding him smelled of sulfur and burnt trash. When the thing got closer he noticed a scaly white claw as it reached out to him.
Crying out, he turned to run, but it was too late. The white claw-like thing with black fingernails that stretched two or three inches long, and purple veins that ran like putrid rivers across a tainted land had a hold of him. A squeak of a scream left his mouth as the figure spun him around.
Gary shivered in fear and his bowels released all over himself. Death was staring him in the eyes. No, this was worse than death, this was the epitome of evil. Pure evil.
Both the white scaly hands grabbed him from beneath his shoulders and raised him up. He could see another tentacle-like hand coming from below his dangling feet. It ran up his shorts and, before he could cry out one last time, the pain seared through him as he saw the thing’s mouth drop open. He tried to kick and flail his body, but it was no use, he was going to die.
The figure drew him to his mouth. He held him up with one hand as the other pulled his head to the side. Gary could feel the blood pour down the back of his legs as the tentacle-like hand tore at the flesh on his back. Then, the thing spoke, its voice was deep and growled like a giant dog protecting its territory,
“You shall fear me no longer young-ling. The pain will be over shortly. Please, please,” it gave an evil laugh. “Please keep crying, it makes it better. The taste of your fear and your sadness, oh how I want it. Know my name before you die. I am every child's worst nightmare. I am mankind's bender of wills. I am Moloch!”
Moloch’s mouth closed over Gary's neck as he screamed out in terrible agony. He could hear tendons pop and cartilage crunch. Blood sprayed from his open wound as Moloch’s razor teeth tore at his neck. The darkness he was surrounded by began to darken further. At that moment, Death’s slippery hand grasped for him and he invited it in willingly.
Chapter 2
“Your grandmother is dead, Tanner. She left her house and belongings to you.”
His wife looked at him, slightly confused because she was not aware he even had a grandmother.
Looking at her baffled, because he, too, had almost forgotten that he had a grandmother, replied, “Surely, there must be a mistake. There has to be some other relatives. I don’t believe I’m the only one left.”
“Well, believe it babe. You want to look over this paperwork yourself?” She asked.
As she looked over Tanner's small frame, she tried to hide the twitch of a snicker. The thrill of going through his grandmother's belongings was the most excitement she had felt in a while. He was only thirty-five, but small gray patches began to form in his hazel hair. Even though his brown eyes had shadows under them, signs for lack of sleep, they glistened. Every time his skeletal face looked over her with awe it made her feel as though she was someone.
Several months earlier, Tanner was diagnosed with a heart condition, and the medication he was prescribed dropped his libido rapidly. He couldn’t perform in the privacy of their bedroom like he was once able to. She was restless. So, one evening, while he was sleeping as he so often did, she ventured out. She met a nice man at the bingo hall. One drink led to another and before she knew it, she was having an affair. It only happened twice, before the guilt began to take root within her heart and mind, and she soon told Tanner about her adultery.
Even though, he had been clearly upset and almost broke off their eleven-year relationship, he said he could eventually forgive her. She was worried she wouldn't be able to forgive herself, though.
Time heals all wounds, but the condition with his heart was something he would have to live with for the rest of his life. Until his recent heart troubles, he was an athletic, outgoing guy, but the medications slowed him down drastically.
He looked at his wife Hannah, and he still loved her. Deep down, he kind of understood why she cheated. The anguish his heart felt the first few weeks once she told him about the affair was almost unbearable, but over time the ache dwindled away slowly.
Her red hair let a few strands hang over her face as she looked over his grandmother’s Will and last words. Her bronze skin glistened even in the coldest month in Greenfield, Texas history. The snow had been falling for several days and had accumulated more than ever recorded in the small towns record.
Her brown eyes turned to him once more as she read his grandmother’s last words,
'Tanner my dear boy,
I know I’ve only met you once in your whole life, and
that I regret. However, even in not knowing you well, I still endow you with my house and all my belongings. There is not much left for me to say at this time, besides an apology for our lack of communication over the years. I hope my giving you my home and things will not burden you. If indeed it is a nuisance to you, I have left a number to a great woman who helped me over the years, who will be willing to help you do whatever you desire with the house and my belongings. Her name and number will be in a manila envelope I've left on top of the fridge'
Sincerely,
Mathelda McQuaid
Slipping the paperwork back into the envelope from which it came, she turned to Tanner and asked, “so, when are you going to go up there and look around and see what you are going to do?”
He looked at her and tried to smile but failed. It had been some time since he was able to really smile at her more than once in a day. Sometimes he couldn't even muster up one fake smile. Even though the agony of her infidelity had subsided, the pain, nonetheless, lingered in his heart.
Looking from her eyes down to the tips of his toes which poked out of the blue sheet that was draped over him, he said, “did that paperwork mention a funeral or anything of the sort? I mean, yeah, I didn't really know the lady, hell I don't even remember meeting her the one time she mentioned. I mean, I kind of do, but, right now, trying to recall? I just get the chills; I mean I actually got goosebumps.” He lifted his left arm out of the sheet to show Hannah his goose flesh. “I don't know what that's all about. I don't know, I guess all of a sudden, I feel as if I should at least attend her funeral if there is one. Don’t get me wrong, I really don't want to go, but it’s the right thing to do, since she left me all of her stuff.”
Hannah pulled the paperwork out of the envelope, once more, and read over it feverishly as she replied, “says here, she was cremated and the ashes are already at the house waiting your arrival.”
Letting out a sigh of relief as he flipped the sheet off his thin body, he said, “okay, sounds good. Maybe, we can go check out her place today. There ain't nothing else going on, just let me shower first, drink a cup of tea, and we can get going.”
“Sounds like a plan. I'll go brew you some tea,” she replied, happily.
She turned to give him a small kiss on the cheek, before he got all the way up, but either he didn't notice, or he ignored her affection. She knew it was the ladder. It was her own mistake; she would just mark this day as another day she failed to win him over. It was her fault and she knew it; she knew once he realized he couldn't do the things in the bedroom that he once could, he tried to satisfy her in other ways. However, she had grown selfish and wanted more, and her heart filled with regret. She should have just been the better person and not let lust get in the way of the love she felt for Tanner.
Chapter 3
Arthur Kupp sat alone in his empty camper trailer on the outskirts of the small village-like town of Sullivan, Texas. He flicked another cigarette into his bucket with the other discarded butts and lit another one instantaneously. He took a huge swallow of the hot beer he was drinking, gulping more than half the can in one go. Looking around at his empty home which stank of stale cigarette smoke and old beer, he wished for death. Death, however, would not answer.
At seventy-one years of age, he had longed to welcome the reaper of souls into his home, but he knew better. He knew the day was not coming anytime soon. It didn't matter how many cigarettes he smoked in a day or how many beers he drank, his health never deteriorated. He had lived off nothing but cigarettes, beer and cheap TV dinners for almost fifty years. His fate was chosen, his servitude was decided, and he did the bidding. Looking back at his life before he had chosen to be a slave to an evil few knew, if any, about. His Will was to be bent and twisted by the desires of whom he served, and he served diligently. Remembering his life when he was a young man, he often thought of the one bad choice he had made that led him to seal his fate, before he was even old enough to comprehend what that truly meant.
At twenty years old he was happy not to be drafted and managed to elude the thought of Nam altogether. That was a terrible war as they all are, none were fought with interest of the people in mind. The greed of all politicians, democrats, and republicans alike were to blame for most, if not all, the casualties that were suffered through the wars over the years. He shook his head in effort to get his mind off the disturbing thought that our freedom isn't free. There is always a price to pay. Everyone answers to someone, no matter who they are; unless, of course, you're something inhuman.
In 1969 he was just happy to be alive in a small country town away from society and all its bullshit. The day was nearing dusk and he was as excited as he had ever felt. The date with Terry Lock was set and he was primed and ready.
Her beautiful blonde hair and her sun baked skin made his heart flutter with delight every time he thought about her. She was as elegant as any young lady her age could have been, yet she was as strong as any man. Being raised on a farm, she knew what hard work was, and that was where Arthur met her.
They had been talking here or there for several months when, finally, he had gathered enough courage to ask her on a date. The date, itself, wasn't really that impressive, he could only afford to take her to a small café. They were going to walk to an old spring that still flowed on the outskirts of town. Her father was the one who gave him the boost of confidence to ask young Terry out. He even gave Arthur a little extra cash on payday to take her to eat and get her a small gift.
He was walking and carrying the small battery powered radio he had gotten her because she loved music so much; he was humming a tune to himself. I want her, she wants me by The Zombies. He couldn't shake that tune out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. Though he could have turned her radio on, he decided against it, because he was going to play it while they were at the small spring together. He thought they could dance under the stars and hold each other while listening to whatever music she wanted to hear. Her father hadn't given her a curfew. He wanted them to have a great time, besides, he trusted Arthur. At that time, Arthur was as honorable of a young man as anyone could have been. Some of his old buddies looked down on him because he didn't jump at the opportunity to go fight in a worthless war, and that often disappointed him. But, on this night, he didn't care nor was he bothered. In just a couple of hours he would be holding Terry in his arms and whispering sweet nothings in her ear.
About a mile away from the long dirt road to the farm her father owned, a big old black Cadillac approached him from behind.
The car slowed to a stop next to where he was walking and a beautiful woman who couldn't have been more than ten years older than he was, smiled and asked, “do you need a ride hun?”
He politely denied the gesture, but the beautiful lady was quite persistent. She spoke to him with a voice that sounded like a choir of angels singing. Her eyes sparkled like diamonds in the eyes of a robber. Her skin was so smooth butter could slide off her arm.
“Oh hun, I insist. I can drive you where you need to be. Even if it’s just up the road,” she pressed.
Being the polite young man that he was, he decided no harm could come of it; besides it wasn't often that a country boy like himself saw such a beautiful lady. She looked like a young Audrey Hepburn.
“My name is Arthur, thank you for the ride, my stop is just up the road here,” he introduced as he got into the car.
“Are you going on a date?” The lady questioned as she looked at him, the small radio in his hands, and the rose he had in his pocket. “Who’s the lucky girl?”
Blushing with adolescence, even though he was twenty, he told her all about his big plans for his date with Terry.
Seeming quite bemused the lady took his hand in hers and asked him, “do you think I’m pretty? Be truthful now, I can read people like a book.”
His face, once again, turned as red as clowns’ shoes.
He was too polite to deny her question, so he answered, “honestly, ma'am, you're one o
f the prettiest ladies I have ever seen in my life.”
Smiling, she turned and looked at him. She then slowed the car to the side of the road and asked, “would you mind helping a pretty lady out this evening?”
Sweat formed on his brow and he became curious as to what this lady was going to ask him to do. Hell, he just wanted to get to Terry and enjoy the evening with her as planned.
He tried to think quickly, but his mind just didn’t work that fast, he answered, “well, miss I do have plans this evening, I'm not trying to be rude or...”
She waved off his words with her hand.
He could smell the fragrance of something wonderful float across his nose.
“Oh, hun don't worry you will have time for your date. I just need a small favor, one itsy bitsy favor. Can't you help a pretty lady out?” She asked with a smile.
He wasn't sure what he was witnessing, but he was pretty sure that her smile seemed odd. Her whole demeanor seemed to change. Though she was still as beautiful as she was mere minutes ago, something had changed. As she asked him again for the favor, he watched her eyes look between her legs. She took his hand and placed it between them. He immediately yanked his hand away; he didn't want no part of that. He was a virgin and was saving those kinds of acts for marriage. He rarely even touched himself.
Her smile turned to a frown as she declared, “now, now hun, don’t be like that. I offered you a ride and you accepted it. Now, I need a favor. The right thing to do is for you to amuse me. I don't want to have to tell people in your hometown that you're a young creep who stopped me on my way out of here and asked for a ride. And when I graciously offered you took advantage of my good will and began to touch me in my car.”
Cold Fear Page 1