Free Read Friday: Covenant The End

Read this story from the beginning HERE!


Some promises can not be broken.

“But you must,” she whispered as silence replaced the voice of the storm and he struggled to understand, “don’t let me suffer anymore.”
He nodded then as he reached out to caress her lined cheek.
“I’m so sorry I’ve let you suffer,” he whispered as he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close.
Dateline Cumberland AP - Emergency personnel responded to a 911 call from 1254 Mulberry street where they discovered what at first appeared to be a home invasion, but what turned out to be an apparent murder suicide attempt gone awry. The deceased was identified as sixty nine year old Patricia Halverson, who had been confined to bed as a result of advanced Alzheimer’s disease. Her seventy year old husband, Albert Halverson was discovered in the basement of his home, in a vintage 1940’s restored phone booth, with a self inflicted gunshot wound to his chest. He was transported to the Western Maryland Regional Hospital where he is currently listed in stable, but guarded condition.
Police have reported that the weapon used has not been discovered at this time. Next of kin have been notified and no charges have been filed. Local authorities have offered no further comment on the case. A source that asked to remain anonymous reported the initial 911 call came from a woman who would only identify herself as Pat, and was calling from a phone number that had been phased out in the mid-fifties. We will share more details as they become available. 


Authors Note: This is one of those stories I really need to revisit as I feel I have not done the story justice here. I was trying to find a way to show what it might be like to be in the mind of someone suffering from Alzheimer Disease. I couldn't very well just say, and he slipped into her mind, so I used the promise he'd made and the memory of it to hopefully bring the reader to the conclusion that  Albert was getting a glimpse of what his wife was going through. 

This story had its roots in a news item that appeared in my local paper. Concerning an older gentleman who killed his wife, then tried to commit suicide, failing to do so. They too were an older married couple and it got me to wondering how someone could kill the person they've loved for so many years. I guess it's true what they say. If you really love someone you will let them go.
If you've been enjoying what you've read why don't you stop by my one of my Author Pages listed below to check out my other work. 

Next week I will start the story DESTINATION UNKNOWN. 


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This week in Horror 11/15/2017

Crimson Tassels - Brian Nowak

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Jack and Elizabeth should have it all. They saw the world as optimistic newlyweds, enjoying the prime of their lives with a home in the rural backcountry of Illinois. For him, it offered a place to establish himself on his new career as a college professor and for her, an ideal place to raise their children. Moving away from everything they knew and loved was a difficult decision, but one they undertook to follow Jack’s dream.

Jack knew the home needed work, but since it was structurally sound, he wasn’t too worried. The home came filled with furniture they could go through like archeologists studying how the people who abandoned the home thirty years ago lived.

A series of strange occurrences, and even stranger dreams, convince them that something in the house might be out to get them. When they finally decide it is time to leave the home for a better living situation they discover leaving isn’t so easy. A malevolent spirit named Marylyn needs something from them and will stop at nothing to get it.

Dark Side of the Museum - Randy Atwood

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A pinch of paranormal. A dash of time travel. A deliciously outrageous look at the inner workings of an art museum.

Something Down There - Nancy Widrew

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Horror erupts when newlyweds, Karen and Jeremy, cross paths with members of a diabolical cult inside a West Virginia cave. Living below the earth’s surface has triggered mutations, rendering the cult members nearly infertile. Their leader, a wild-eyed, cunning brute, refuses to let the couple leave, believing they and their potential offspring hold the key to surviving underground. Are Karen and Jeremy doomed to spend their lives inside this sunless, subterranean wasteland, or do they escape before their minds shatter and their bodies betray them?
Convenience - Andrew Mackay

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Meet Willy gee.
He's the public restroom janitor at the Kaleidoscope shopping mall.

His is a workplace where civilians go to relieve themselves.
Where babies get changed.
Where strangers go to play...
… and a host of bodily fluids go to rest.

Willy is great at his job.
He keeps everything in working order.
Until today.

Come spend the day with Willy on his day shift.
He's losing his mind...
... in the very last place you'd want a mind to get lost.

You’ll love this vomitorium of despair, repulsion and psychological terror.

Will you be able to finish Convenience...
... or will it finish you?

November - Ian K Pickup

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Pull up a chair, turn down the light and prepare to be introduced first hand to fear and fiendish foes.

From deals with the devil to a cursed lake crossing, Ian K Pickup harnesses the hell hounds that lurk closer than one might think and unleashes them upon the desperate. From the down and out to the downright greedy, nobody is safe from the evil that lurks closer than they ever feared.

Something sinister lurks in the darkness... Author Ian Pickup delivers a new batch of horror with his living, murderous Punch doll, ghosts luring people over cliffs, ghastly monks, and more. You don't have to believe in the evil, for the evil to believe in you.

The festive season is upon us, and most people will be preparing for an expected guest on Christmas Eve. But prepare yourself, because the visitors in these seasonal stories aren’t who you might be expecting.

So get cosy with a nice warm drink and settle in to enjoy these haunting tales. But remember not to brave the wilds outside when you finish, because there may be more than you bargain for waiting in the snow...

Around every busy hospital wards and seemingly empty houses, in bustling city streets and spooky woodland glades...the witches are waiting.

Waiting to reap their revenge.

Do you dare to challenge the witches?

From vengeful ravens and mischievous imps to ghastly ghosts and vicious vampires, these short reads will leave your hair standing on end as you wonder... Just who are the wreckers of Talland Bay?

Haunted artefacts...the hunted become the hunters...the terrors of the unconscious mind... Ian K Pickup presents five more short stories guaranteed to have you sleeping with the light on, if you ever sleep again. And remember, don't touch that dial...

Help me. They're out there. They're coming to get me.
Or is it all in my head?

Am I willing to take that chance?

Monday Motivation 4 Things to Remember


[moh-tuh-vey-shuh n]


1.the act or an instance of motivating, or providing with a reason to act in a certain way:
I don't understand what her motivation was for quitting her job.
Synonyms: motive, inspiration, inducement, cause, impetus.
 2.the state or condition of being motivated or having a strong reason to act or accomplish something:
We know that these students have strong motivation to learn.
3.something that motivates; inducement; incentive:
Clearly, the company's long-term motivation is profit.
We writers talk a lot about motivation, and what motivates us to create. 

Like other creatives, that initial act of creation is one of the loneliest endeavors someone can undertake. Writers, like painters, sculptures, singers, and filmmakers, all start the process alone as we coax the initial spark into something we can be proud of sharing with the world. This is the most fragile time for any artist, especially new artists working on their first project, when the only feedback available is their own. 

After all who wants to share a first draft of anything, with anyone?

It is in this initial stage that more artists than we realize fail and never take another step forward. This is the make it or break it point in their budding careers. But it's also a necessary step. Everyone starts somewhere, some fail and push on, while others chuck it all and turn their energies to something easier. 

Once you've gotten past the initial stage it doesn't get any easier, especially if you're looking to hone your craft and take your work to the next level. Even as you climb toward lofty peaks you will reach plateaus that you feel you will never escape from. But you persist, and you do escape, to take your work to the next level. 

Even at this stage some will stop and accept what they have so far achieved. Believing they can go no further.That's where they're wrong. Only by accepting what you have now will you fail to reach your full potential. 
The following are four very important lessons I've learned over the years. 

4 Things every artist should remember.

Look back only to motivate yourself, don't dwell in the past. 
Don't compare yourself to others in your field.  
Don't accept anything less than your best, if you've done the best you can.
Don't be afraid to dream big. 

What would you add to this list?

Free Read Friday: Covenant Part V


Some promises can not be broken.

Authors note:
We are nearing the end of this one, and I would like to apologize again for vanishing for nearly two months. Keep in mind this is a first draft, editing is at best very minimal, this is how I write. After the story is done and has had time to stew, as it were, I'll go back over it to adjust the narrative. 

If you've been enjoying what you've read why don't you stop by my one of my Author Pages listed below to check out my other work. 

Read this story from the beginning to this point HERE!

Without further adieu I give you part 5 of Covenant .

But the harsh reality of what he’d experienced was right there on his hand. Maybe he’d cut it in the phone booth while he was dreaming, after all it had to be a dream, it wasn’t possible for that murky bar to be in his basement. At this he pushed open the door and leaned out to gaze at the familiar surroundings of his basement.

It was a dream, nothing more, the stress of caring for Patricia was taking its toll. The time for his decision about her future was drawing closer with every breath he took.

“Promise me!” the memory of their argument that day in the cemetery surfaced in his mind. He took a step back, just as he had that day, the ferocity of her desire threatening to overwhelm him.

What could he do?

“Archie,” her voice shrieked from the baby monitor in his hand and he looked at it as he glanced again at the watch on his wrist. This time he had been gone for nearly six hours. His heart sank at the thought that she had been left alone for so long.

“You promised,” She cried out, the baby monitor vibrating in time with her voice. 

He raced from the basement, taking the stairs at a dead run, becoming winded before he reached the top, but he pushed on as his heart trip hammered in his chest. Nearly staggering down the hallway he came to her door where he stopped with his hand on the knob as he struggled to catch his breath and compose himself.

When he pushed into the room he found her sitting up in her bed, watching him with the same mischievous expression he’d fallen in love with. Though her face was lined with age, and her hair had been bleached by the passing of the years, she looked more alive than she ever had since the onset of her disease.

“It’s about time,” she said in a perfectly normal voice as he nearly dropped to his knees at her bedside.

“You do recall what we talked about?”

He could only nod silently, his heart filled with joy and sadness in equal measures. She had come back to him, it was a miracle, and then he stopped. Or was it just an extension of the dream he’d been living in the basement.

“You understand what you have to do?”

“I can’t,” he answered honestly.

“But you must.” She slid across the bed and swung her legs over the side, planting her feet firmly on the floor in front of him, then she was kneeling next to him, her small hand hot and tender on his back as she leaned in close. He could smell her, the scent of Ivory soap strong on her flesh, masking the sour stench of her approaching death.

“Don’t let me suffer anymore, I’ve grown weary with this life, this disease has robbed me of my memories, it has taken my past. Please don’t let it win.”

A shadow passed over the day at the mention of her disease and he looked up at the window. The day that had once been bright and cheery had grown dark and overcast, with gray clouds drifting low to the ground, mimicking his sorrow. He felt first one, then another tear as they traced twin paths down his cheeks.

“I can’t,” he said, snuffling into the sleeve of his shirt, “how can you ask me to hurt the one I love.”

“Is it love to keep me like this, to let the shadows take all that I had been?”

“I can’t,” he shouted as he pushed himself to his feet, “you can’t ask me to do this.” He stepped back from her bed where she was sleeping peacefully, a serene expression on her face, the dwindling light of evening retreating from the shadows that were growing long and thick in the corners of the room.

It had just been another dream, her kneeling beside him, talking to him in that lost voice. As he watched her sleep he noticed that her eyes were moving rapidly back and forth beneath her closed eyelids. From outside came the rumble of thunder and the darkness deepened as gray clouds obscured the face of the dropping sun. From the shadowy corners of her room came low growls that grew from the night.

He turned away from her sleeping figure to find himself in that bar once again. She was standing at the other end of the shadowy room, that vibrant blue dress faded somewhat, her red hair had lost some of its luster, lying flat against her skull. Her face was gaunt, withdrawn, her cheekbones more prominent than before, her once sparkling eyes were now dull and lifeless orbs resting in shadowy basins.

“You made a promise,” she said, lifting her withered arm to point one crooked finger at him. The patrons at the bar on his left roiled and growled as she shouted. Outside a flash of lightning whipped across the sky followed by a tremendous crack that split the night sky open and sent a tremor through his soul.

The roof of the bar was ripped away, exposing the dark clouds that churned in a maelstrom above their heads.

“You promised,” she shouted over the rising voice of the wind, her rage whispering across the sky, a thick bolt of lightning that danced upon the canvas of  agitated clouds. Branching out, dividing again and again until they surrounded them in a prison of bars that caressed the ground and filled the air with the heavy scent of ozone.

“I can’t,” he replied, cringing from the dancing streaks of lightning that were now trapped in the moment of their creation.

To be continued 

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That's 2 complete novels and a 
collection of short stories.
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