My Father's Day Present

If I had any doubts about the way I had raised my children, one of my now adult children reminded me this year that I must have done something right somewhere. She's always been a talented creative writer, so this year she wrote me this lovely, moving Father's Day short story. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Father's Day

by Kaitlyn Medley

Every year on father’s day Billy and Rebecca would wake up their father and surprise him with breakfast in bed; scrambled eggs, bacon, and a toasted English muffin with butter on top. This year was no different. Both Billy and Becca woke up and tip-toed to the kitchen to start breakfast. As they passed their mom and dad’s room, they heard heavy breathing and then what sounded like something fall to the floor. They quickened their steps and hoped they hadn’t woken anyone up yet. Billy always made the scrambled eggs and English muffin while Becca expertly fried the bacon. Once it was all done, they put it on a tray and silently walked down the hall. Billy opened the door to their parent’s room while Becca stood holding the tray of food. Blood was everywhere. It was splattered on the walls, soaked the bed sheets, and a pool of it was forming underneath the lifeless form of their mom on the floor next to the bed. Their father was sitting up in bed, staring blankly at the wall. Next to him was a bloody and broken lamp. Their father turned towards the doorway where they were standing and gave them a sinister smile.

“Happy Father’s Day,” he says as he gets out of bed and grabs for the bloody lamp.

Scene Exercise

A friend and I are currently working on a joint project based on a childhood memory. Of course it wasn't as sick and twisted in real life as we plan on making the story, but we're horror writers not memoir writers.

This was just a scene exercise I did today, trying to get a feel for my main character and his relationship to the evil Alphabet People that torment him. Enjoy. Or don't, either way I'm having a beer, so it's all good here.

Josh sat alone in the warmth of the sand behind the swing set, toward the edge of the kindergarten playground, plowing through the sea of white grains with a toy bulldozer. He loved the solitude, the time to himself, where his own imagination was the only obstacle to his creativity.

As the dozer sliced neatly through an adjoining road to make a sandy intersection, a glimmer caught his eye. The dozer’s plastic blade had uncovered a treasure buried in the sand. Josh inspected his newfound relic. An old glass marble. At least he thought it was old. Perhaps long lost by some kid many years before his time here. He rolled it between his soft fingers, feeling the jagged rough edge where a slice of it was missing, cleaved off in perhaps a fierce skittles battle in the sand.

The edge of the broken marble was sharp as a razor. He looked across the playground and into the dusty window of the classroom, where Mr. G glared back at him in all of his inflatable madness. The marble threatened to slice into his palm as he clutched it, staring intensely  at the horrible little person, or letter, whatever Mr. G was. Was it sneering at him with its big white rubber teeth?

“I could cut you,” he said quietly to Mr. G. “I wonder if you’ll bleed if I slice you up with this.”

Mr. G, and all the rest of the Alphabet People, A through F, sitting upon their shelf, were watching him now. They were always watching. Always listening. Mr. G spoke in his gravelly voice, “No, I won’t bleed, Josh. But she will.”

Josh looked over to see Lisa sitting on the monkey bars playing with a doll. “She thinks you’re ugly and dumb. I bet you’d like to see her bleed,” Mr. G said through his overly huge smile.

“Who, Lisa?” Josh asked. “No, she’s real nice. She’d never say that about anyone.”

Josh stood and brushed the sand from his pants. He’d show him. He marched over to where Lisa sat, careful not to disturb his road system in the sand, and pulled up a bar next to her. “Look what I found, Lisa,” he said, opening his hand so that the sun made the marble a mini sunburst upon his palm.

He held it out to her so she could inspect it on her own. She reached for it, feeling it’s warmth and smooth roundness, probing the jagged edge of the sheared off portion.

“It’s really pretty,” she said.

BRRRRRRPPPPPP!!

The recess bell startled them both. Josh jerked his hand back and the razor sharp edge of the marble raced its way across Lisa’s soft fingers, slicing into them savagely. Lisa cried out in surprise and pain, clutching at her bleeding fingers. She looked at Josh, hurt and horror painted on her face. The tears began and she ran off in search of Miss Bettes.

“See, she bleeds real nice, Josh, real nice. Just like I said she would.”

Josh bent down to retrieve his now bloodied marble from the sand where it had fallen, his own tears peeking from the corners of his eyes now. He locked eyes with Mr. G, fury burning through his veins. Mr. G and A through F were laughing. Laughing hysterically at him and what he had done. He hated them. He hated them all so much. And he swore to himself, someday he would cut them too. But, he’d cut them all the way through and they would laugh no more.

A No Story Easter

crazy artwork by Jim Boring

Sadly I wasn't able to complete the short Easter story I wanted to post this weekend. Life and my paying job got in the way as usual. It was basically going to be a warm, fuzzy feel-good tale about a group of teens who decide to go camping one Easter weekend and are, in the middle of the night, attacked and torn to shreds by cute man-eating bunnies that pop up out of the ground.

I know what you're thinking...Guy, that doesn't sound like a story you'd write. Bunnies? Good times? Flesh ripped from bone around a warm camp fire? Well, it's the holiday I guess. Must have softened my spirit.

But, don't worry. My friend and I are working on something that will make up for it all. Something even the mentally ill will shun. So, in the meantime, have a wonderful Easter, and remember, blood-lusting bunnies are among us. There's probably one watching you right this minute!

The Humane Way

This is a short piece of flash fiction I did for a publication that decided not to pick it up for whatever reason. It gets the same reaction from everyone that reads it, which was planned when I wrote it. I like it. Maybe you will too. If nothing else you can stare at the wonderful artwork my good friend Jim Boring so graciously drew for it, until you go stark raving mad.

The Humane Way

by Guy Medley with artwork by Jim Boring

She looked at him through misting eyes, fighting back without much success the sting of tears. Poor thing. His old bones must be so tired, so full of pain and suffering, far beyond her understanding. His once vigor stature and golden sheen now reduced to a droopy sad old thing, grey and mottled and washed out by the years. His once jeweled eyes now little more than desolate orbs of pain.

But, he had far outlived his expected years. His life had been a good one.

He had been a good companion in life, for both her and the children. Always there. Always at their side. Forever loyal. But it was time they let go. Time they let him go. She knew this day would eventually rear its ugly head. They had all known.

The children will miss him terribly. They laughed at his playful clumsiness, the way he ran with them and played with them and showered his undying love upon them. Now his tired limbs lay shrouded in mourning for those glorious days of play.

She gazed lovingly down on his old twisted frame, his big doey eyes fixed on her like the loving old boy he was. He managed a soft whimper, a sign of his love. She would miss him like no other before.

She would even miss his smell, which even now smelled of the garden, his favorite place to be. Lavender and hydrangea and honeysuckle, all filled her nose and brought a smile to her face. It was like he had just come from his spot in the yard and perhaps he had.

No more, she thought. She couldn’t wait any longer or she wouldn’t be able to go through with what needed to be done.

A tear spilled down from her eye, marking a trail across her red cheek. It was time to let him go. It was time to end his long and needless suffering. She took some small comfort in knowing he’d soon be at peace, resting under the big shady elm out back, near his garden, beside all the others they had planted there over the years.

Not to worry my love, she thought, it’ll all be over soon enough.

She leaned over and kissed the top of her husband’s bald, hot head as she plunged the needle into his jugular, injecting the lethal dose of potassium chloride into his bloodstream. As his heart stopped, hers raced.

Now, off to find the children a new daddy. 

Stuff Worth Checking Out This Week

A few new things going on this week. First, a new book by Todd Keisling is set for release on April 4. It's the final book of his "Ugly Little Things" series, and in his own words, he wants this volume of tales to "End  with a bang". This series has been a great read and I'm really looking forward to reading this latest installment. I've included (hopefully with his blessing) Todd's own synopsis for 'The Harbinger' below.

Welcome to Dalton, West Virginia, home of the famous toy company, Dalton Dollworks. Founded in the late 1970s, the Dollworks has built a reputation around its quaint, lifelike dolls—and now the company is poised to go worldwide.
Meet journalist Felix Proust. He’s been invited to Dalton for an exclusive interview with Maggie Eloquence, CEO of the Dalton Dollworks. Thing is, he’s been in town for all of five minutes and he already knows something isn’t quite right. The stench of manure is everywhere, all the adults seem to be over sixty, and the children regard him with silent contempt.
Felix isn’t about to let this odd town get to him. He does have a job to do, after all. But as the day wears on, Felix learns there’s more to Dalton than meets the eye, and that some dark secrets should remain buried deep in the earth at all costs . . .
THE HARBINGER is the latest entry in Todd Keisling’s Ugly Little Things series, offering a startling new vision of unsettling horror that leaves the reader holding their breath until the very end.

Second, Anthony Rapino has started up a page on Patreon, which is a sort of Kickstarter type idea, but where donations go toward ongoing projects instead of a single project goal. I really like Anthony's horror writing, and I want him to be motivated to write more, so to me this seems like a cool idea. If you can throw a buck or two a month his way I'm sure he'll greatly appreciate it. Plus, if you donate you'll get all sorts of goodies, like access to new work all the way up to editing help. Help this deserving writer out. If nothing else maybe it'll allow him to finally afford a hair cut. (Just kidding Tony!)
Here's the link:   http://www.patreon.com/Rapino

Birthday Boy

My friend's 40th birthday was last week. Yeah, we're that old. And, such is my life, the stars not only didn't align for me that night, but most of them supernova-d to ensure I wasn't able to attend at all cost. So, as I idled away my time at work on a train in the middle of the woods of Northern Arizona, I penned this hastily edited short about a boy and his birthday. I hope you enjoy it. It's just a fun little piece of filth.

Birthday Boy

by Guy Medley with artwork by Jim Boring

“Dammit!” Tom pushed END on his cell phone and slammed it down hard on the table. “I can’t believe this shit, man”.

He turned to Jim who was leaning casually against the snack table. “Well, guess who isn’t able to come. I don’t know why I bother with him sometimes. Says he has to work late or some bullshit. Fuck!” Jim hunched his shoulders with cool indifference.

“What are you laughing about, Cory?” Tom eyed Cory sitting on the couch between Sarah and Kate, his arms casually slung around both of their shoulders. Always the lady’s man, that Cory.

Tom sat in his big recliner and fumed. Fucking Gus was always ruining his shit. And this was no ordinary shit. No, this shit was his fortieth frickin birthday party. He had spent days decorating his basement recreation room. Preparing a smorgasbord of snacks and buying all the beer that everyone liked. Goddammit, this was his day. He and Gus had been friends since childhood and he expected him to share in all of his important life events, work be damned.

His friends in attendance gabbed it up under the droning of the music. Not the tunes he would have chosen, but it was the top forty crap that everyone seemed to enjoy, and he wanted his invited guests to have a good time. Nobody was dancing to the music yet, but he suspected they would be soon enough. In fact he was going to ask Jen to dance after he had another beer or two. She sat in a clutch of friends near the big ornate punch bowl he had bought special for the occasion, her golden hair framing a face only an angel should possess.

Tom busied himself refreshing everyone’s emptying beer bottles. When he made his way to Jim he leaned against the table and looked out across the room filled with his closest friends. “Sorry I got a little hot there, Jim. It’s just, well, he knew I was planning this party for months. He knew.” He looked at Jim who was enjoying a plate full of meats and cheese sweating under the warmth of the lights. Jim was quiet on the subject. He knew Tom just needed to rant for a bit to get it out of his system. They all missed having Gus there. He wasn’t the most lively of the group, but he was a part of it and it was noticed when he was absent. “Well, to hell with him then, huh. We’ll have a great time tonight, man”. He clapped Jim on the shoulder and with a broad smile moved on.

Cory was still nestled between the two girls on the couch, making eye contact with every part of his couch mates except their eyes.  “Don’t believe a word this guy says, “ he said looking at both of the girls. “He’s full of more shit than Congress.” He laughed as he replaced their beers and then walked away with the roll of his eyes.

Tom finally made his move after the latest round of beers had been served. He walked over to Jen and plopped down in an empty chair right next to her. God she was beautiful. He was surprised she was even here at his party. He swallowed his pride and what felt like a bowling ball and finally asked her. “Jen, would you like to dance with me?”

They danced and danced and danced some more. They danced until Tom was so exhausted he had to stop for a rest. He saw Jen back to her seat where her friends waited with big smiles and curious eyes, no doubt dying to know all.

The needed rest was the perfect time to serve the cake, so serve it he did, dishing out pieces onto paper plates and delivering them to his guests. He sat in his chair eating his own piece, washing it down with a cold Sam Adams. “How’s that cake, Jim?” He looked at his friend who now seemed conflicted between eating his cake or the still sweating pile of meat and cheese that lay in front of him.

He looked over in Cory’s direction, who now had cake covering the entire lower half of his face. Drunk bastard, Tom thought.

                                        @@@

Gus made his way up to the front door and knocked. He could hear the music drifting up from the basement, making the soft knock only a polite courtesy before he let himself in. Besides, he wanted to surprise Tom by making a grand entrance. He had talked his way out of working as late as he had told Tom he would be at the office.

He crept through the house, finding his way to the door that lead down into Tom’s basement rec room. Down he went, his smile and growing excitement escalating with each step down. He reached the bottom and rounded the corner into the main room. Balloons emblazoned with big numbered 40’s and OVER THE HILL hung from the ceiling and from strings tied to tables and chairs and lights. Music blared top forty crap. Beer bottles lay everywhere. At first glance it looked like a rocking party.

Then Gus saw all of his friends in their respective places in the basement, and all that was wrong with them. Cory was seated on a couch, his arms around the shoulders of Sarah and Kate. His face smeared with the crumbling remains of what looked like chocolate cake and blood. And his eyes, propped open with yellow and blue toothpicks, the kind used to spear tiny sausages. Sarah and Kate’s eyes were also pried open in the same manner, their once beautiful eyes now glazed over with a hazy white film.

Jim was propped up against a table loaded with food, his skin the color of ash and a small trickle of blood running from his left ear. His collar was stained a dark red and formed a long V neck of crimson down the front of his polo shirt.

A group of girlfriends sat duct taped to chairs set near the largest punch bowl Gus had ever seen, their made-up eyes also propped open with colored hors d’oeuvre toothpicks. The punch bowl glowed red under the lights, illuminating the darker objects floating inside. Gus tried to tell himself they were orange or lemon slices, but the light was too bright in that corner to convince himself that what he was seeing floating ornately within the punch was anything other than tongues.

Then he saw Tom, gracefully drifting across the open floor to the rhythm of the music. In his arms he held Jen, her head rolled back onto her shoulders, bobbing back and forth to the movement of the dance, her eyes propped open like the other’s and a dark bruise line clear around her hemorrhaged neckline. As Tom and Jen turned, the tip of her toes all that dragged across the floor, he came to face in the direction of Gus. His face lit up with his big cheesy grin. He dropped Jen, who sprawled lifeless on the floor and walked toward Gus.

“What the hell is going on here, Tom?” He looked wide eyed at his friend.  “Shit man, what the fuck!”

Tom’s smile faltered but never entirely disappeared. “I’m glad you could make it, man. Jim and I were just talking about how much we missed you.” They both looked over at Jim, his food still stationed in front of his ashen body.

Gus looked at his longtime friend. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Got any cake left?”