Welcome to my Psychological Thriller/Horror Page! This is where you read excerpts of my Short Stories. Everything is color coded on this page, in order to tell the differences among the brief summaries of the latest short stories, the story titles, and the actual excerpts of each story. Also, Across The street is in the brightest font because it has already been bound. Enjoy!
Maliciousness
The following is an excerpt from my short story, Malice which has been renamed, “Maliciousness.”
With remorse, I said “You know, what? Look, I’m really sorry about--” “Shut up! I am so sick of you. You know that, right?” “Hey, I said I was--” “You know what? That’s okay. It’s quite alright because well, there’s a lot of stuff you DON’T know about me.” Because Malice started laughing like someone gone mad, I stopped and stared. With malicious intent, she blurted out all the unadulterated, atrocities she had committed within such a very short time of us supposedly being friends.
The Bill Collector
This is an excerpt from The Bill Collector. Also, these photos are ALL images I found via Flickr, in order to help set the tone for each story.
As time progressed, Greg fell madly in love with Alice. Being madly in love with her evolved into disturbing behavior. Greg started obsessive compulsively taking pictures of Alice and created a shrine room specifically dedicated to a young woman, who was never his customer, nor his girlfriend. It was only a matter of time, until Alice chose to visit Greg (“Larry”) at his house.
Psycho Vs. Psycho
The Horrors Of Womanhood
This is an excerpt from my short story, The Horrors Of Womanhood.
That 2 ton tubby came in waddling and complaining about having vaginal cramps. So asked her, "Are you on the rag?" "No, I just had my period a little while ago," she said. "How long ago is 'a little while ago?'" "Umm... it's been a few weeks."
I started to become annoyed with my patient. "So, why didn't you just say so? Why beat around the bush?" "I thought Nurse Gigi already told you. She already wrote it down on a Post-It."
I eventually said to the 2 ton, "Okay, now I've got a few other questions to ask, before I stick you." "Oh okay." "Do you drink?" "No." "Do you smoke?" "No." "Do you or have you ever done any illegal drugs?" "No." "Are you currently sexually active?" "No" "How many sexual partners have you ever had in your past?" "None." "Do you masturbate?" "No, never. I'm a woman. Only men do such a thing as that."
I couldn't help scoffing and rolling my eyes at her. "What? Are you new lady? Or are you lost in the pre-historic times?" Then, she became defensive. "Excuse me? How DARE you ask me such rude, personal, and inappropriate questions?"
"Well, it's quite simple mam. I'm a gynecologist. I can ask you whatever I want! And by these questions being standard procedure, I HAVE TO ask them! Got it?" 2 Ton Tubby looked at me and scoffed with her double chin and wattle drooping.
2 Ton added to my annoyance, when I had to remind her, "You are supposed to be undressed. Why aren't you undressed?" "Well, you were asking me all those personal questions. So, I didn't have time to undress." I said to her, "Okay, fair enough. This is what I want and NEED for you to do, right now. First, undress yourself from the waist down. You can leave your socks on but take off your shoes. I'll be back in a few more minutes."
After giving 2 Ton Tubby a few minutes to get undressed, I went back to the room, knocked on the door, and let myself back in. As I was passing by the chairs in the room, I couldn't help noticing her nasty, faded out, blue panties with dingy brown stains on the seat of them. Of all the panties to wear to a doctor's appointment, 2 Ton Tubby WOULD wear the most revolting-looking panties. Disgusting! And she wonders why she's still single and a virgin, as old and haggy as she is.
Finally, I said to her, "Okay, I want you to hook your feet into these stirrups. Scoot your butt further down the bed, a little closer to the edge, and spread your legs for me nice and wide." "Like this?" "Yeah, that's right."
I began to wash my hands, rinsed my speculum with hot water, put on my latex gloves, and JAB! She began to scream and cry.
All Of Chastity's Men
NOTE: This is an excerpt of my latest short story, All Of Chastity's Men. This is NOT related to Across The Street.
"Please, let me go." "Shut up!" I yelled at my old addiction. "I'm really sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you. What I did was wrong," Alan said as his salty tears flooded his blue eyes and drenched his pale, porcelain face. "Will you please let me go?"
"Oh, Jesus Christ, already! Shut up! Well, I really shouldn't say, 'Jesus Christ' because you're nowhere near Jesus. However, looking at you handcuffed and chained to my basement wall almost resembles Jesus being nailed to the crucifix. Like I already said, you're nothing like Jesus. He was innocent, when He was crucified and took it like a man. You, on the other hand, are not.
If you remember anything about me from our teen years, you know that I've always been sadistic and with good reason. I bet you wish you had some battery acid to get high on, right now. Don't you?" "You psycho bitch!" "Before I electrocute with this car battery, I thought I would entertain you with my dark stories. You, my skeleton props, and all my creepy doll friends can listen to my narration," I sadistically said to Alan with raucous laughter. He began to whimper, "Please, I'm begging you. Let me go. I don't want to die. Please!"
I became so aggravated with Alan's sniveling pleads, that I gagged him, in order to tell my grisly love stories. "Now, that I've shut you up, my little loose lips, it is time for you and the rest of my audience to listen to my love stories. I call this compilation, 'All Of Chastity's Men.'"
Across The Street
Hey! How's it going my gumdrops? As some of you already know, I've briefly mentioned a few times about my chapbook. It is bound at Carthage College, which was where I graduated 9 years ago. I decided to share a piece of my work with you all.
This piece was originally a Creative Writing Class Assignment. We had to pay homage to a writer. I mostly paid homage to Octavio Paz and his 3-page short story, "The Blue Bouquet." I also paid homage to KoRn's inside album cover, Follow The Leader, James O'Barr's The Crow, and Stewie from Family Guy. This is along with Garbage's old song, "I'm Only Happy When It Rains."
For the most part, this is my original short story, "Dolls." "Dolls" holds the same title in my chapbook. However, I recently changed the title to "Across The Street." Anyway, here's my short story, "Across The Street." I hope you all like it!
Across The Street
It was a dark and dreary night. The ground was saturated from the ice cold rain.
I was able to sleep through most of the night in my nice, warm, full-size waterbed.
Normally, I was only happy, when it rained. Sure, most people find this type of
weather to be depressing, but I always welcomed rain. Whenever writing the perfect
story, rain always helped me to collect my thoughts, as well as help soothe me to
sleep. Well, at least that was the way things used to be, until that one night.
That one rainy night, while I was sleeping, I had nightmares within a nightmare.
It was ghastlier than a thousand ghouls. First, I dreamt I was chained to some brick
wall, being tortured and burned in hell, only to die. After dying, I woke up in the
dream, assuming I would be in heaven. It turned out, that I was actually in the
water. Peering above me was a little girl with a demonic smile on her face. She raised
her hand above my head and laughed, while forcing my face into the water, drowning
me. I screamed and cried for mercy. Then, I drowned. After dying twice in the
nightmare, I woke up (still in the nightmare) in a coffin, wearing a straight jacket,
kicking and screaming, for someone to help me. No one came to help me in the
nightmare.
A monstrous crash of thunder and lightning from outside would eventually wake
me up from the nightmare. Drenched in a cold sweat and shivering, I ran to my mirror
in the dark to see if I was wearing anything freakish like a straight jacket, or a burial
dress, or something. Luckily, I was still wearing the same thing I wore to bed; a black
chemise made of black lace.
Then, I heard a woman screaming. I ran to my kitchen window and noticed that
the couple across the street were in engaged in a domestic disturbance. I was about
to call for help, but I decided to be the bold, “independent woman” and ran across
the street to intervene.
All the commotion stopped, after I ran across the street. All the lights were off
too, so I knocked on the door. No one answered, but I sensed that the couple was still
inside the house. I tried opening all the main doors, but they were all locked, except
for the garage. So, I opened one of the garage doors and turned on the light switch. I
walked inside and suddenly saw the woman’s husband. He had ropes ravelled around
his corpse, while sitting on the floor. His eyeballs were carved out his sockets, with
Living Dead Dolls, hanging upside down. They were attached to the same ropes, that
were ravelled around him. As I stood in shock and terror, my heart sank.
Soon, I heard one of the garage doors creak open. His wife came walking out,
slowly, while humming to a song. As she walked and hummed, she carried a wine glass
with her husband’s blue eyes in it. From the way things looked, it seemed as though
she heated his eyes, because there was steam rising from the glass. Our eyes would
soon meet each others.
Interrogatively, the woman asked, “What are you doing here? Are you spying on
me?” “No,” I said shivering. “I heard a noise and decided to come over here.”
“REALLY... Huh? ” Suspiciously, the deranged, redheaded, shrew said, “Let me ask you
a question. Do you like how my husband looks? You see these my pants I’m wearing?
He tore the crotch of my pants trying to force himself on me. So, I beat the bastard
down and killed him.” While staring at her husband’s mutilated corpse, I asked, “Uh-
What are you going to do with his body and all these dolls?” “What I’m gonna do with
all this is let him and the dolls hang from all these ropes. You see, my daughter always wanted one of those ol’ Raggedy Ann and Andy Dolls, but I decided to up the ante. Her daddy’s gonna be a real life rag doll! I carved out his eyes with his old dagger and decided to give him new color eyes!”
With a sociopathic grin and a crazed look in her eyes, the woman began to say,
“Your eyes are so pretty and innocent.” She caressed my face and stroked my long,
curly, dark hair, as I slowly backed away from her. “Your eyes are green. Can I have
your eyes? Give me your eyes.” “No!” I yelled, as I tried to escape from the
insanity, and that place, known as a garage. The only problem was that she grabbed
my arm, when it was just in time for me to run away, screaming. I then, slapped the
woman’s face (which was, might I add, a very bad idea) all the while, she grabbed
both my wrists. Soon, she would tie them up with a pink, Chinese jump rope, as I
struggled to break free. I stepped on her foot only to have my face choke slammed
into one of the garage counters.
“You shouldn’t have tried to escape! You knew I told you I wanted your eyes!
Why would you do that?!” the woman scolded me. “Damn it! Where the hell did I put
that glue gun! I just saw that thing a few minutes ago!” She stormed out the garage,
searching frantically, for the glue gun. While she was searching, I kicked open one of
the garage doors and made a run for it, in the nick of time. That was the last time I
saw “Psycho Wifey,” because after all that, I left town.
