Glimpses

by J. E. Taylor

  I wanted to smash his face in as I thrashed in the chair.

  His smile faded and he regarded me with a quizzical expression, tapping his lips. “I may have to rethink your family’s fairy tale.” He plucked the rag from my mouth.

  A stream of steady swears spilled from my mouth between the dry heaves. I was able to spit most of the blood from my mouth as he reloaded his rifle.

  “Time to get your family.” Paul picked up the rifle and trotted out of the garage. He pushed a button on the remote and the garage door slid down behind him, drowning out the last of my warning cry.

  The blood-ridden soundproofed walls absorbed my roar. I struggled, gritting my teeth against the pain in my shoulder and rolling my wrists in a circle, testing the binds. They were plastic and my hope of escape vanished. Sweat slid into my eye, making it clamp shut against the sting.

  Gasoline fumes and coagulating blood filled the garage. I glanced around until my eyes landed on the chainsaw. Bits of flesh, bone, and hair clung to the blood-soaked blade. My stomach rolled and I quickly looked away.

  Taking a deep breath, I assessed my condition, shifting my weight as the shattered bones of my left thigh ground together. My stomach lurched and I had to take a deep pull of foul air to keep it in check. I studied the spackled egg crate pattern in the ceiling before looking back at my leg.

  At least blood wasn’t gushing from the wound.

  Yet.

  The sharp laugh from my chest caught me by surprise, further degrading my already shot nerves.

  I jumped at the first muffled gunshot; three more rang successively. Then silence filled the garage and I stared at the door. Tears burned my eyes, blurring my vision before rolling down my cheeks and sliding into the corners of my tightly clamped lips. I hung my head and prayed for a miracle. I prayed my family wouldn’t suffer. I negotiated with God until the garage door rattled on the frame.

  My eyes shot open and I waited. Minutes passed before the garage door opener whirled into action. Inch by inch it raised, revealing the blood-soaked driveway, but Paul was nowhere in sight.

  My muscles trembled and I kept my eyes on the gaping opening, waiting for Paul to drag my family down the same path he dragged me. A figure swung into view, aiming a gun between my eyes. It took my embattled brain a second to comprehend who was in the opening.

  “Josh!” Her shaky breath reached my ears as she lowered my gun.

  A slight sound escaped from my throat. I couldn’t form words as renewed tears blurred my vision.

  Linda ran to me, sliding through the muck on the floor. She threw her arms around my neck as sobs ripped from her chest. “You’re alive!”

  I nodded, still staring at the door. “Is he?” The words came out in a raspy whisper.

  “No,” she said in my ear. “I killed him.”

  Sirens howled in the distance.

  “How?” I asked as she pulled away.

  Placing my gun in my lap, she knelt to untie my leg. Her voice trembled when she spoke. “All I could think about were Paul’s threats last year. I asked Jenny to watch the kids until the party started.” She covered her mouth with the back of her hand as her eyes surveyed the garage before falling back on me. “I grabbed your gun and headed back this way. I figured if I was wrong, we would have a good laugh.” She offered me a slight smile before her eyes welled up again. “I saw him shoot you and I hid in the woods.” A sob interrupted her, and she couldn’t continue.

  “Shhhh,” I said, thankful she had the combination to the safe and knew how to handle a gun.

  Linda shook her head, her jaw clenching and forcing the sobs to stop. “I shot him when he walked past the oak tree. I thought you were dead, Josh. I thought he killed you, and I just kept shooting.” Another sob escaped her lips as they pressed against mine.

  I silently thanked God for the miracle.

  The sirens came to rest outside the Grayson homestead. Red and blue lights filled the twilight creating shadows on the garage walls as officers and emergency technicians converged on us.

  The End

  Thank you for reading GRAYSON HOUSE. If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review.

  Iron Rain

  My stomach rumbled as I turned the page. A half hour left before lunch. I almost groaned out loud when the hand clicked backwards on the library clock before settling in place just before the 11:17 spot. Do all the clocks at school do that?

  The grass outside the cafeteria was calling, a much more suitable reading environment, vaguely like the scenery in Wuthering Heights. Okay, the Rockies are a tad more jagged than the rolling moors of Scotland, but hey, a girl can dream. Besides, Johnny would be out there and I loved it when he read to me. His smooth deep voice was hypnotizing under the late April thaw, especially when he pulled off a plausible Scottish brogue imitation. I mean, seriously, how sweet can it get?

  My friends were studying at the table next to me; every now and then a whisper interrupted the silence of the library, pulling me out of the story. I gave them a crooked smile and got a shrugging nod in return. If I hadn’t detoured to the bathroom, I’d be sitting with them. Oh well—you snooze, you lose.

  A rumble like thunder echoed through the hallway outside of the library, sending vibrations through the floor and up my flip-flop clad feet.

  Out of place for a high school, but it was getting close to graduation. Probably just a firecracker in some poor freshman’s locker, like last year. God, what a mess. It blew the locker open, spewing flaming notes across the hallway. Who knew a pencil could become a flying projectile, piercing that poor unsuspecting sophomore’s ass? Both Principal Ramsey and the fire chief blew a gasket, hauling us all into the auditorium and ranting about the dangers of M80s, especially in an enclosed space like a locker.

  The second report was closer, reminding me of my father’s hunting rifle. A metallic tinge tainted my saliva like I’d taken a giant bite of tinfoil and I shivered.

  Ms. Nielson pushed through the doors, her face flushed and her eyes like those of someone caught in the crosshairs of a grizzly with nowhere to go. Her chest wheezed as the air barreled in and out of her lungs. “Get down!”

  We all blinked, exchanging a quick glance.

  “Everyone get down now!”

  The panic in Ms. Nielson’s voice was enough to jumpstart my frozen muscles. I slid under the table with my friends. The five of us—Lisa, Lauren, Jeanna, and a younger girl named Kelly— were huddled together, none of us understanding what the hell was going on.

  “I bet some idiot put M80s in the lockers again,” Lauren whispered. “Everything’s going to be just fine.” She waved her hand like swatting a fly, but her blasé attitude quickly changed.

  They stepped into the library, two pair of denim cargo pants alongside shiny rifle shafts. The rake of a zipper and shuffling nylon followed by plink. What the hell were they doing? My question was answered moments later when a small explosion rocked the library, sending broken books in different directions.

  “Get up!” Their voices blended into one boom, the order filling the air as thick as the smoke from the burning books.

  My muscles seized in place, planting me to the spot under the table. Lauren’s arm slung over my shoulder, tightly pulling me next to her. Her other arm pulled Lisa close, Jeanna and Kelly across from us. Our bodies shuddered uncontrollably. Our eyes darted from one to the next, none of us daring to speak, daring to move, daring to breath.

  “Get out from under the tables, now!” The report of the rifle broke the strained silence and I saw the first student fall. I think his name was Kyle, his Walkman headphones askew on his head with music blaring from the speakers as he hit the floor. Blood pooled, seeping into the carpet, maroon spreading inch by inch over the beige fibers.

  I don’t want to die! The thought continuously looped through my mind, competing with my prayers for God to make us disappear, become one with the floor or a solid piece of impenetrable furniture. Anything to go unnoticed, to have them pass u
s by.

  They opened fire as they walked from table to table, getting closer. A bullet whizzed by my face, close enough that I could smell the gunpowder still clinging to the metal cylinder. Lauren gasped, tightening her grip on me for a moment before she slumped in my grasp. Kelly backed away, sliding out from under the table and making a run for it.

  Two steps. That’s all she got before they gunned her down.

  This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t holding my best friend’s dead body and staring at Kelly’s lifeless form on crimson carpet. I wasn’t surrounded by the stench of burning books, gun smoke, urine, and blood. It must be a nightmare. It had to be.

  “Enough!” My voice boomed over the wails of the injured and before I knew it, I had stood, turning in the direction of the spray of bullets. One grazed my temple and hot liquid slid down the side of my face, stinging my eye and shrouding half my vision red. A second pierced my abdomen, searing my insides, doubling me over. My hand grasped the corner of the table, the fine grain wood smooth and reassuring under my fingertips, giving me the strength to remain standing. “Enough!” Hissing, I took a shaky step to intercept them.

  The bullets stopped, leaving a ringing silence above the moans.

  Instant recognition. I had seen him skulking around often enough, but I never bothered to find out his name. His cold gray eyes regarded me and he raised the rifle a fraction, swinging the barrel in my direction.

  “Stop.” I barely managed a whisper, but it was enough for the skulker to pause and study me.

  “Do you believe in God?” He cocked his head, waiting for my answer.

  Again I faltered, scanning the carnage. When my eyes returned to him, I had no answer. I thought I believed in God, but this, this defied my faith. “Why?” I beckoned with my hand, indicating their destruction.

  “Because it’s fun.”

  He leveled the gun at me and smiled the kind of smile I envisioned on the walking dead. The kind of smile Lucifer embraced and I shivered.

  “Do you believe in God?”

  I was still breathing, still standing. Still alive. The grace of God touched me, creating a steady thumping beat in my throat, blocking my voice. I tilted my head in a slow nod. Maybe I could buy the rest of the kids some time, enough to save their lives. I straightened, studying him as blatantly as he was studying me. “Do you?”

  He hesitated, the barrel dropping slightly away, our eyes locked.

  “Shut up.” Another boy stepped from behind one of the book aisles to my right, casting a dark shadow over me.

  I didn’t turn toward the voice; I needed to maintain eye contact with the skulker. My life depended on it. When the rifle cocked, a sensation of blood rushing toward my center, retreating away from my extremities, left my hands and feet cold even as my heart thudded against the walls of my chest, struggling to push warmth from where it had just fled. I flinched when the shot echoed through the room.

  Miraculously, the bullet missed.

  The shadow didn’t take another shot.

  Skulker’s eyes widened. The barrel of the rifle lowered another fraction as his gaze darted from me to the right where the rifle shot had come from.

  Something clattered to the ground, triggering another round; this time, I felt the burn in my calf, but it was distant, and my bones stood fast, holding me in place.

  A thud shook the floor and I followed his gaze. The other boy lay face down in a pool of his own blood next to the discarded rifle. My ears still rang with a high-pitched whistle, leaving my thoughts in a jumbled mess but I knew I was lucky. Whether the shot ricocheted or skulker killed him, the shadow gunman was dead and I was still standing.

  I glanced back at the skulker in front of me. Saucer eyes with a matching mouth returned my stare. “Do you?” I asked again, my voice shaking as shock threatened. White noise filled my ears, drowning out the cries of the living. My skin tingled where the slow trickle of blood and piss slid, creating a puddle on the floor around my feet, bright red diluted in the clear watery liquid.

  “Do I what?” He regained his composure, raising the rifle again.

  A whisper, like a breath of wind, brought my answer to him. “Believe.” The room spun and my knees buckled. As I sank to the ground, a black veil slipped over my eyes, the harsh rasp of my breath following me down into the abyss.

  I WOKE TO WHITE LIGHT, blinking under the brightness. The haze cleared and I scanned my surroundings. An IV bag hung above my head, gaining my full attention. The scraping of a chair tore my gaze away from the hypnotizing drip. My mother slid into view, her thin hand wavering like a butterfly as it rose to her lips, tears slipping over the graceful curve of her fingers.

  The End

  Harvest Moon

  “Hey Ally, want to come up and party?”

  His casual invitation interrupted her stride. Alessandra looked up from the sidewalk, hugging her books. Frat house boys ogled her from the balcony. At least twice a day since the semester started, she heard the catcall, but so had every other sorority girl on the block who walked by the Alpha Beta Pi house.

  Jeremy leaned against the railing with a beer in his hand, smiling down at her, his bright green eyes reminding her of a wild mountain lion and she suppressed a shiver. He raised his beer and with a slight tilt of his head said, “Come on, Ally. We won’t bite.”

  His smooth voice caressed her ears and she paused, inhaling deeply and memorizing his musky scent.

  Yeah, but I might.

  “Why should I?” Alessandra turned fully toward the house, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder and placing her hand on her hip, waiting for an answer.

  He drained his beer and put his index finger up before he disappeared. Stepping out the front door moments later, he trotted down the sidewalk, stopping a few feet in front of her. “Come party with me.” His gaze drifted over her in that hungry come-hither expression, matching the seductive tone in his voice.

  She batted her eyelashes and tilted her head to the right, studying his cocky sureness. She knew his reputation. Slam, bam, thank you ma’am, the equivalent of a male whore and now his sights were set on her. “Again, why should I?” Alessandra asked, toying with him.

  “Because I’ve wanted you since I first set eyes on you.” Jeremy leaned in as he spoke, his breath reeking of Corona. “And I can tell you feel the same.” A knowing smile spread over his lips.

  Alessandra took a deep breath and let out a husky laugh. “Yeah, right.” Even though Jeremy was one of the better-looking men on campus, arrogant and sexy as hell, she wasn’t going to let him take advantage of her. Not with the risks. Not even if her dreams were filled with visions of lapping every inch of his six-foot sculpted frame.

  “I have class,” she answered and took a step toward campus.

  His hand clamped down on her arm, stopping her. “At least come to the party tonight. It’s homecoming.”

  Alessandra sighed and bit her lip, considering his invitation. All her sorority sisters were going, along with everyone who was anyone on campus. She didn’t think the smile on his face could get any bigger, but when she agreed, it widened. She looked at the hand clasped around her upper arm and he let go, taking a quick step back as she raised her gaze to his.

  “It starts at eight.” The wind kicked up, wrapping a cool breeze that promised a bitter winter, and he dug his hands into his pockets. “See you then.” He turned and disappeared into the frat house.

  ALL THROUGH CLASS, Alessandra fidgeted in her seat. Hunter texted at least a dozen times about a camping trip tonight and she ignored each silent buzz of her phone.

  Why did he always show up at the wrong time with the rest of his ragged pack? Her sweet sixteen, her first date, her prom—all screwed up for the sake of a “family” trip. Family? Ha! Not so much. More like unwanted chaperones. God, couldn’t they let her have a normal life?

  Her phone buzzed again and she tore her gaze from the professor to the demanding words blinking on her phone. With a couple of quick keystrokes, s
he sent her defiant answer. She wasn’t going this time. She’d meet up with them tomorrow. They could go one night without her leading the party.

  She turned the phone off and focused back on the front of the classroom.

  EVEN THE SIDEWALK VIBRATED from the hip-hop beat as she approached the front door of Alpha Beta Pi. She traded a glance with her sorority sisters and they squeezed through the crowded house into the rear courtyard. Bodies crammed the open space, moving like a sea of Mexican jumping beans.

  She scanned the crowd and couldn’t see Jeremy. A quick sniff brought several mingled scents, mostly booze and sweat, but another sweet scent laced the air: an undercurrent of marijuana—all the normal byproducts of a college frat party. Moments later, that musky scent reached her, and she turned to see Jeremy approaching.

  “Hey, Ally, want a beer?” He offered her one of the two opened Coronas in his hands.

  “No thanks. I really shouldn’t drink.”

  His eyebrows creased and he bit his lip. “Why not? Are you an alcoholic or something?”

  “Something like that.”

  The crease smoothed out, replaced by arches that rivaled McDonald’s and she chuckled at the incredulous look gracing his handsome, chiseled face.

  “I’m actually allergic to alcohol.”

  The arches remained. “Really?” he grunted and handed one of the bottles to a wayward fraternity brother. “What, do you swell up like a balloon?”

  This time she did laugh. “No, no spontaneous swelling.” She didn’t care to elaborate further.

  “Want some punch instead?”

  “Sure,” she answered, licking her lips.

  His gaze traveled between her mouth and her eyes and he nodded, disappearing into the crowd. A few minutes later, he slipped next to her, handing her the plastic cup full of red fruit punch. A lovely orange ring decorated the edge along with a glistening cherry.