Down in the Dirt Magazine - Neon in Our Veins

Greetings!
Thank you to Janet for featuring my story Neon in Their Veins in this issue!
http://scars.tv/dirt/dirt173jul20/Gone_Fishing.htm

World of Myth - Interview

Hi Everyone!
If you get a chance you might want to check out my interview with Kevin.
http://www.jayzohub.com/darkmythproductions/theworldofmyth/85/interviews.html?fbclid=IwAR3Ovbq7GBM9uzNKl01VxbEvtf0aN70lH4kysYhB3Ks6YqJEwKUBCmPrPEA

The Terror House - The Attic

Special thanks go out to Matt for featuring my story today!
https://terrorhousemag.com/attic/
Here's the story if you don't want to use the link:

The Attic

Billy pulled a blanket over his head and tried not to suck his thumb. He was nine years old and hadn't done it since he was a baby but he couldn't help the fact he was pretty scared.

            "You doing all right, boy?" Grandpa asked, giving him a look, Like grow up you little pansy.

            "Yeah," Billy mumbled into the blanket, his thumb nearly in his mouth.

            His granddad laughed, derisively, "Yeah, I'll bet."

            His grandma joined in, giving him a hard time, "See, I told you this show would scare you. Next time maybe you'll listen to your elders."

            Billy closed his eyes, pretending he was back home with his mom and dad. Even if it wasn't the most pleasant place to live because of the daily escalating arguments and his parents fighting, at least it wasn't scary. Not like his grandparents creaky, smelly old house at the end of the block in a small town in southern Minnesota with his grandmother watching everything he did and giving him no breathing space. Or his grandfather berated him for "Not being more of a man." And all that had just today, the first day of his weeklong stay.

            This first night wasn't going any better, either. His grandparents insisted on watching Horror Theater on the television and Billy had joined them just to be social. But the show, about a guy who spends the night in a haunted room in an attic, really was kind of scary. Now all he wanted to do was to be left alone.

            Finally, he said, "Could I please go to bed? I'm kind of tired."

            His grandma glanced at the clock on the wall. "Okay. It's nearly nine. I guess you've had a long day."

            Billy glanced at his grandfather who just smirked and said, "Tomorrow I'm putting you to work painting the garage. That'll put some muscle on you."

            Billy sighed inwardly. What was the big deal all of a sudden about being a grown up? What was wrong with just being a kid for Pete's sake? Geez, give me a break. But he kept his thoughts to himself, looked his grandpa and said, "Sounds good."

            His grandpa peeled the cellophane off a crooked cigar and lit it with a zippo lighter, all the while shaking his head, obviously disgusted with his daughter's only son.

            Billy started for the bedroom at the back of the house on the first floor next to his grandparents. It had been his mom's old room when she was growing up and he was looking forward to sleeping there and having the security of being surrounded by photographs of her as a young girl.

            "Hold it right there, young man" his grandma commanded. "Where do you think you're going?"

            He pointed, "To Mom's room. To sleep."

            His grandma looked at him with the expression of a hawk eyeing its prey, "I don't think so. We've got other plans for you. I think you'll liked it," she grinned showing pointed, yellow teeth. "While you're here you'll have your own room."

            Wow. Good news at last. "That's cool," he said, risking a smile.

            The one-hundred year old farmhouse style home had one main floor, a finished basement and an attic. Maybe I'll have my own room in the basement, Billy thought to himself. That would be great. Lots of privacy. He started toward the back of the house to the basement stairs.

            "Just a minute," his grandma snapped, "where do you think you're going? Your room's that way." She pointed to the door off to the side of the kitchen.

            "You mean, the attic?" Billy asked, his voice squeaked as his smile faded. Years earlier, his grandparents had converted the attic space into a bedroom for his mom's younger brother, Tommy. After he met with an unfortunate accident and died at a young age, it had cleared any trace of Tommy and only was used for storage. Billy had only been in the attic a few times and that had been in the daylight. It was creepy then, so who knew what it's be like at night. Unfortunately, he was about to find out.

            "Yes, the attic, you big baby," his granddad spoke up, blowing out a cloud of obnoxious smoke. "Get used to it. That's where you're sleeping while you're staying with us."

            His grandfather got up, cigar jammed in the corner of his mouth and gave Billy a one-handed shove, "Have a good night." Then he laughed as the grandmother opened the attic door.

            "Sleep tight," she said."I already put your suitcase up there on the bed." She reached into the stairwell and pulled the string on a naked light bulb. It illuminated the first few steps and that was all.

            Billy was terrified, but tried not to show it. "Okay, thanks," he said as he squeezed past her, his mind racing, his heart starting to pound. He was going to have to figure out how to deal with this. Then the door clicked shut and he was all alone. He closed his hand into a fist to keep from sucking his thumb. He had something to prove not just to his grandparents but to himself. He just didn't know what it was. Not yet, anyway.

            In the kitchen, the granddad and grandmother looked at each other and grinned. The grandmother spoke first, "He'll never make it."

            "Yeah," Granddad spoke. "He's nothing but a baby."

            "Just like Tommy was."

            "What a poor excuse for a son."

            "I'm glad we got rid of him."

            "Me too. He was just a pain in the ass. I'm glad we're going to do the same with that little creep," the grandfather said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the attic door.

            "No kidding."

            They went back to living room and got ready for their next show. Horror Theater was over and Scream Time was just beginning. They settled in for a nice relaxing hour of viewing. While the opening credits were running they looked at each other and smiled. Life was good. It'd be even better when their grandson was out of the way.

            Billy steeled his courage and climbed each step carefully. It was hard to see so he used his hands against the narrow walls to find his way. The steps turned to the left half way up and by the time he reached the top he was drenched in sweat. The room was long and narrow with a slant roof, giving it a claustrophobic feel. A full moon shone in through a window at the far end where his bed was located. He used its dim light to make his way carefully across the floor, sinking gratefully onto the bed's broken spring mattress. He looked around the room but it was too dark to see much of anything, only the shadowy shapes of what looked like a desk and a dresser against the wall, along with stacks of boxes for storage. Trying not to let his fear overwhelm him, he pulled the covers over his head and attempted to hide. From what he didn't know.

            He must have fallen asleep because he was startled awake by an odd sound. Was someone calling to him? He listened again but heard nothing. What was going on? He pushed the covers aside and sat up, looking into the dim light of the room. He was more stunned than afraid by what he saw. There in the middle of the floor floated an apparition. A ghost like figure.

            "What...what do you want?" Billy asked, pulling the covers to him and holding them tight to his throat. Strange as it may seem, the figure didn't seem threatening and he found himself more curious about its presence than frightened.

            The apparition floated toward him and Billy scooted back against the wall and pulled his knees up to his chest, just to be on the safe side.

            "Do you know who I am?" The figure asked. It's voice was soft and surprisingly gentle.

            "No, I don't know who you are," Billy said, speaking up to hide his fear, "Why would I?"

            "Because you're staying in my room and sleeping in my bed."

            If Billy had been a bed wetting person right at that instant would have been the time to let loose. But he wasn't, although beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He was suddenly nervous. Was this thing going to hurt him?

            "Please don't hurt me. What do you want?"

            "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to warn you."

            "About what?"

            "Your grandparents. They're dangerous."

            So the apparition wasn't so much dangerous as...what? Maybe friendly? Was that possible? Billy felt his fear lessen and he sat forward, "I know they're not very nice, but dangerous? How do you mean?"

            The figure floated to the side of the bed and sat down. It was close enough so Billy could see the ghostly shape more clearly. It looked to be a young boy about the same age as Billy. Suddenly he had a thought. Oh, no! It couldn't be. "Are you telling me that you're..."

            "Yes," the figure said, shaking it's head sadly, "I'm their son. I was there their son, I mean. I'm Tommy." He pointed a formless finger down toward the first floor. "They killed me, and I believe they are going to kill you."

            Billy felt he had suddenly become trapped in a nightmare and had no way to escape. It was all he could do to keep from screaming.

Downstairs, Grandma and Grandpa went to bed after Scream was over. Grandma looked at her husband, "What do you think?"

            "About what?"

            "About Billy. You think he'll make it?"

            "Not a chance. The kid's a weakling. He's as good as dead. But, if he doesn't die to night, I'll take care of him in the morning." He reached into his nightstand draw and took out a 12" long hunting knife and held it up. "This should do the trick."

            Grandma laughed. She liked a take charge guy and her husband certainly was one of those. "Should I turn on the gas?"

            "Yeah, go ahead."

            She reached for a valve behind her nightstand next to the wall and twisted it open. The two of them had rigged it up years ago to get rid of their son Tommy. It fed gas up to the upstairs attic through a hose hidden in the duct work. By morning Tommy was dead from asphyxiation. The same thing would happen to Billy tonight. It was fun for them to think about killing someone again and the grandparents fell asleep with smiles on their faces. Morning couldn't come soon enough.

The apparition Tommy told Billy what had happened so many years ago. When he was finished with his story he said, "Billy, you've got to watch out for yourself. Those are bad people."

            Billy thought about it for a minute. He'd never liked his grandparents: they were mean to him and they were mean to his mom. Finding out they'd killed their only son was the final straw. "What should I do?"

            Johnny floated over to a heat register in the floor and pointed, "Here's where the gas is coming in." He bent down. "It's on right now. I can hear it."

            Billy leaped out of bed and joined his new friend at the register. "What should we do?"

            Tommy smiled. "I have an idea."

Early that morning, just as dawn was breaking, Billy stood outside in the street watching the scene unfold. There were three fire trucks, an ambulance and five squad cars. He watched with interest as two body bags were removed and put in the ambulance. There wasn't much left of his grandparents.

            "Are you doing okay, son," a kindly police officer asked and pointed. "At least they found your grandparents."

            Billy nodded, and tried to appear properly solemn, "Yes, officer, I've fine. Did someone get a hold of my mom?"

            "Yes, she's been called and is on her way."

            "Good."

            "In the meantime we'll take you to the hospital to get you checked out." He gave Billy the once over, "You look pretty good, though."

            "Yeah, I was lucky," he said. "I was outside looking for the cat when the house exploded."

            "I didn't know a cat lived here."

            Billy smiled, the lies coming easier. "Not many people did. He was kind of quiet."

            The office gave Billy a look and then patted him on the shoulder. "I find someone to take you to the hospital."

            "That's great. Thanks."

            Billy moved off to the side to wait. His mom would be there in a few hours to take him home and he was looking forward to it. He hadn't seen Tommy since the explosion and that was too bad because he wanted to thank him. His plan had been a good one. Tommy told Billy that his grandfather always smoked the remainder of his cigar at some point during the night. One flick of his lighter was all it took. His grandparents were mean people, not to mention murderers, and deserved what they got.

            Billy smiled. It was a good feeling knowing he'd never have to come back again. He smiled. "Thanks, Tommy," he said under his breath. "Thanks a lot." It was good to know someone like Tommy. And it didn't matter one bit if his new friend was real or not.

The Literary Yard - Too Many Masks

Greetings!
Many thanks go out to Onkar for featuring my story today!
https://literaryyard.com/2020/06/18/too-many-masks/
Here's the story if you don't want to use the link:

Too Many Masks

Bam! Bam!! Bam!!! "Open up, it's the police."

            Oh, shit, thought, Bryan, what have I done now? He got out of bed, stumbled over a shoe and fell to the floor. Shit. He got up cursing his fall and, while he was at it, his hangover. "I'm on my way. Hold on."

            "Hurry  up," came the voice outside his apartment. Impatient was putting it mildly. The guy sounded mad and pissed off. "We need to talk. Now."

            As Bryan crossed the living room he tried to piece together last night. It only was coming back in fragments. Oh, yeah, the Halloween party. The last party in a long line of parties he'd attended wearing a mask.

            Wearing masks. Once he'd gotten in the habit of doing it, it really wasn't really all that weird, wearing, say, a Tricky Dick Nixon mask to a party. His friends even thought it was pretty cool, saying, "Man, you are some strange dude, you and your masks. The next party is in two weeks. Will you be there?"

            The crowd he hung out with liked weirdness so he was happy to oblige. "Absolutely," he told them. "No problem." It was nice to be well thought of. Besides, it was a perfect opportunity to hide. Put on a mask and be someone different. What was not to like?

            For one whole year he'd done that, worn masks to parties, and by now had accumulated quite a drawer full of them: a ghoul, Yoda, Frankenstein, Elvis, a unicorn, Tricky Dick Nixon, even a parrot. It had been fun hiding behind whatever mask he'd chosen to wear, acting out and being crazy. But it all had came to a head last night.

            He'd gone to a friend's Halloween party wearing a mummy mask he'd bought a local novelty store and wrapped in strips of a sheet, which he thought had added a nice touch. Once at the party everyone thought he looked great. Even that lady he'd met, Batgirl. Then they'd started drinking, the two of them, and partying hard. Then this, the aftermath. He couldn't even remember how he'd gotten home, or, for that matter, where his strips of sheet had ended up.

            If it had been a nightmare or even a bad dream, that would have been one thing, but it wasn't, it was real, and that made it even worse. He'd awoken in the early dawn, dragged himself from bed and made his way shaking to the bathroom where he'd fallen to his knees and thrown up into the toilet, flushed it and threw up again. Nice way to start the day, he'd thought grimly. What a credit to the human race you are.

            Then he'd made his way to the sink where he splashed water on his face. His mouth felt drier than the desert, his swollen tongue stuck to its roof. He took a gulp of water, swirling it around but it barely helped. He swallowed and fought back a dry heave. Then he dared himself to look at the mirror, horrified at what he saw - puffed up face, dark bags under bloodshot eyes, hair a mess. Himself a mess. One more night of drinking. One more day looming ahead hung-over and wasted. He couldn't go on like this. He had to clean up his act. He had to quit pretending and hiding behind a mask and face himself for what he really was - a poor excuse for a human being.

            More pounding brought him back to reality. Bam! Bam!! Bam!! What was this all about?

            He finally got to the door and opened it, hanging on the frame for balance. "What's up?"

            A large policeman with a handlebar moustache stood in the door way, frowning, "We understand you were with a girl last night. We need to talk. She's missing."

            Holy shit. He stepped back. "Sure," he said, voice shaking. "Come on in."

            The cop was just stepping inside when he received a phone call. He listened for a moment, then said, "Okay. I'm on my way." He turned to Bryan and said, "We don't need you. She's been found. She was at a girlfriend's."

            He looked hard at Bryan, then took a quick look at his apartment: dirty clothes on the floor, crusted dishes scattered everywhere, a faint aroma of vomit in the air. He shook his head sadly and said, "A word of advice? You better clean up your act, buddy."

             Bryan closed the door and looked back into his disaster of an apartment. The one bright spot was the framed picture of his parents he kept on his desk. It had been taken at his twenty first birthday almost two years ago, just before they'd been killed by a drunk driver on a busy stretch of highway on a local interstate. He owed them better than this.

            He noticed his mummy mask on the floor and picked it up. Then he went to his desk  took a pair of scissors from the drawer and methodically cut the mask to shreds. It felt good to destroy it. He had to get his act together and this was the only way he could think of to begin. A plan developed. He reached in the drawer for another mask and started cutting. He'd destroy them all. Then he'd figure out a way to live without them. Hopefully his friends would understand, but if they didn't, too bad. This was something he had to do. It wasn't much but it was a beginning. He felt better already.

The Horror Tree Trembling With Fear - The New Boyfriend

Thank you to Steph for featuring my drabble The New Boyfriend in this issue. You have to scroll down to read it but hopefully you will like it!
https://horrortree.com/trembling-with-fear-06-14-20/?fbclid=IwAR3Y7FvB1Tpo2R8Dq4bHJUCMyu1gJl7qmmy26vZHdO4gIfeDnvX5PjZJKD8
Here's the drabble if you don't want to use the link:

The New Boyfriend

Her new boyfriend was fabulous. Tall, quiet, with two twisted horns and a long snout like a fox. Love at first sight.

            For their second date, when he asked her to a party in the woods, she was all for it.

            "Wear something loose fitting and white," he'd said, stroking her blond hair. "Wear your hair down, too."

            That night he appeared out of the shadows and took her by the hand, leading her to a bonfire where people were dancing wildly.

            Oh, this is going to be fun, she thought to herself, unfortunately not noticing the sacrificial alter nearby.