|
Jim Melvin / novelist
Category:
Action/Thriller
Publisher: Out of Bounds Press
Pages: 310
ISBN-13: 2940012778086
A sexy, scary, fast-paced thriller that is a fun and easy read. It's not for kids, but adults who live on the wilder side of life will be sure to enjoy it.
Charlie purchases a house in the middle of the woods and lives there alone for a short time while waiting for his wife and adopted daughter to join him. Problem is … you guessed it … the house turns out to be haunted. In the scene below, a half-crazed Baptist minister and his congregation attempt to help Charlie rid his home of the influence of demons.
Excerpt
WE PARADED UP THE driveway, a strange conglomeration if there ever was one. The now-familiar fears rose within me, causing my eyes to water and my legs to tremble. Were any of the others feeling the same? I know that Jack and the Olsons seemed frightened when they were at the pond, and Milly definitely had been scared several times, so surely it couldn’t be just me.
When we got over the hump of my driveway and could see down to my house, my heart did a flip – not because of the house, this time, but because Greg Chastain’s beat-up van was still in my driveway in the exact same position that he had parked it yesterday afternoon. This brought it all back to me full force, because it was obvious now that he probably was dead. If he had somehow survived, wouldn’t he have made his way back to the van?
“Do you see?” I shouted at all of them. But they were now singing with such vehemence that my voice was drowned out, and none – not even Jack – seemed to be paying me any attention.
“Faint not nor fear. His arms are near.
He changeth not, and thou art dear.
Only believe, and thou shalt see
That Christ is all in all to thee.”
Pastor Milton led the way, his words like cannon shots rising above the din of battle. He walked without fear, his head held high and shoulders square, dwarfing the rest of us, as if he were beyond mere mortals. Part of me wanted to flee, maybe stand over in the Gaults’ driveway and wait for them to return with news of their triumph. Then we could all celebrate over at their house, and during the celebration I’d offer to sell the property back to Bo for a hundred grand less than I paid for it. I could begin house-hunting anew, with a different realtor this time, and all would be well. No more naked ghosts, no more hideous faces in bathroom windows, and definitely no more dalliances – planned or not – with Milly or anyone else. I saw all this as a chance to fix everything, to go back to the way things were before, which seemed like paradise compared to the way they were now.
But maybe it was too late to flee. We gathered in my front yard, more than one hundred in all. Now a breeze was mustering, and it became apparent that a storm was on its way – fast approaching. There was a flash of lightning, followed by thunder. And then another. From out of nowhere, a swirling wind blew into the hollow, yet to my amazement few of the candles went out. Instead they burned even brighter, dancing and flickering as if cupped by invisible hands.
“I’m not staying,” I shouted at Pastor Milton. “You don’t understand. I saw!”
When I turned to start back up the driveway, the wind blew so hard that I literally fell onto my back. Luckily, I was thrown so far that I missed the driveway and landed in a soft patch of grass. When I rose to my knees, Pastor Milton was chanting – and the others were swaying to his words, as if hypnotized.
“We are filled with the Power of the Spirit of God,” Milton shouted. “We command you, minions of Satan, to depart this place. We command you with the Power of the Spirit. We command you in the name of Jesus Christ. Depart this place forever!”
The storm intensified.
“Be silent, foul demons,” Milton continued. “Depart this place. I command you. We command you. The Lord Jesus Christ commands you!”
I finally managed to get back on my feet only to be buffeted anew by a surge of wind filled with swirling leaves and broken branches that was roaring down the driveway with the force of an avalanche. There was no way I, or anyone, could make progress in the face of that, so I decided to try a different tact. I would get my keys from the kitchen, battle my way back to my detached garage, and drive out of here. The wind couldn’t stop a Lexus sedan, could it?
I staggered and stumbled toward my front door, almost tripping over one of the dwarf boxwoods. I was stunned by the ferocity of the storm. Was this also a ghostly apparition? Or was this sudden burst of nature simply a coincidence? I didn’t know, and at this point didn’t really care, realizing with dread that I had made an idiotic mistake returning to my home. I should have run in the opposite direction, far, far away. Now I was again in a fight for my life. And I appeared to be the only one among the gathering aware of the enormity of the situation. The others were blissful as boulders in the midst of a hurricane.
Except …….
Milly was staring at me, and she looked worried too. And Jack? Was he scared?
I motioned for them to follow. Milly surprised me by immediately dropping her candelabra and starting toward me. Jack, however, shook his head, though he looked sad in doing so, as if resigned to a terrible fate.
Pastor Milton continued to chant.
The storm didn’t seem pleased by Milly’s desertion, and it increased in ferocity. The magical candles could not longer bear such power, and they were extinguished. Some members of the congregation were starting to look frightened. I called to them to get into the house. None seemed to hear. However, Milly finally reached me and grabbed my arm.
“What is it, Charlie? What’s happening?”
“How should I know? Ask your buddy the exorcist. All I know is whatever’s happening is real – and it’s deadly. I’m going to get my keys from the kitchen counter and get out of here. To hell with the rest of these fools. They can fend for themselves. I’m no hero. I’ve got a wife and kid to think about.”
“Can I come with you?” she said, her voice pathetic compared to the fury of the maelstrom.
“Yes, as long as you come inside with me to get the keys. As bad as it is out here, I’m not so thrilled about going in there, either.”
She nodded … but suddenly her eyes went wide and she turned back toward the others. Someone – an elderly woman – was screaming, which wasn’t so surprising, given the circumstances. What was surprising was just how loud the screaming was, and how it rose above even Pastor Milton’s voice. Milly pointed at her and screamed herself, and then I saw why. A pair of skeletal hands had erupted from the lush grass beneath the old woman’s feet, and they had grasped her scrawny ankles in bony grips. She was trying to squirm away, but in doing so had lost her balance and fallen onto her rump. Harry Gault knelt in gentlemanly fashion to help her up, apparently not yet aware of what had caused her to fall in the first place. When he attempted to lift her, the hands yanked hard and then disappeared beneath the surface of the lawn, dragging the woman’s legs with them. Suddenly, she was buried to her knees – and screaming louder than ever. Loud enough, in fact, to draw attention from more than just Harry. Though Pastor Milton was still engrossed in his chanting, several others – including the Olson boys – were now attuned to the woman’s distress. Danny Olson stepped over, wrapped his thick arms under the woman’s armpits, and pulled, obviously believing that he could yank her free. Though he gained a few inches, this was met with a far more furious yank from below, and the woman was drawn waist-deep into the grass, looking from my vantage point as if she had fallen into a hole. Danny Olson went to his knees, trying his damndest to wrest her free, but it was as if she was caught in some sort of B-movie quicksand that was as relentless as it was unreal. Milly and I moaned together as the woman was consumed to her sparse breasts, her arms outstretched. Danny Olson finally had to let her go, just to avoid being sucked down himself. The old woman continued to scream, filled with a terror of mind-boggling proportions, and then her arms were forced straight upward, resembling a soldier surrendering to the enemy. Her head went under, her elbows, her forearms, her hands. Her fingers wiggled like worms before disappearing beneath the surface.
Enough of the gathering had seen this to become terrorized, and they turned to flee, but then more hands emerged and more ankles were seized, and suddenly everyone who stood on my front lawn was being drawn downward, as if unseen sharks were pulling each person beneath the surface of a wind-racked sea. Even the powerful Olsons were succumbing to the assault.
My cowardice, seemingly grown legendary in scope, wasn’t enough to stop me from attempting to help the few of them who had become my friends. But when I started toward them, Milly grabbed my arm, turned me around, and screamed into my face.
“No … NO!!!!”
Then she yanked me toward the front door, and the two of us managed to stumble through it and slam it shut against the cacophony of horror.
We were greeted by silence.
Milly and I looked at each other, both of us as fearful as mice that had barely managed to escape the strikes of a snake. We stood there for a time and did nothing but breathe – even that small act seemed difficult to manage – and when there was a sound from deeper in the house, the sudden meow of a cat, we nearly leaped through the high ceiling of my foyer. Woody padded up, wet and filthy, and I could only surmise that he had been caught in the storm and had come through his cat door. I felt a surge of joy upon seeing him. It was as if he was a shred of reality in an otherwise unreal horror show.
Now the storm was shaking the entire house. I mustered the courage to look out the window. What I saw was even worse than I could have imagined. My yard looked like a beach containing a hundred people buried up to their heads in green sand, though some of their arms were also free, sticking straight up. Despite the thunder and lashing rain, I still could hear screams. Again I felt the urge to run out and try to help, and again Milly stopped me, leaning against me and sobbing as she said, “They’ll take you too. There’s nothing we can do.”
“Look at them,” I said, also sobbing.
“I know! But whatever is doing this is too strong.”
Then she pointed off to the right, and both of us gasped again. Pastor Milton was putting up the best fight of any of them. He still was only buried to his waist, and he retained the use of his arms, which he was using to push against the sodden turf in an effort to extricate himself. He had quit chanting and was using all of his strength to break free. But even he was losing the battle. Now he was buried to his chest. Now to his neck. Now he was drawn under, and he seemed to wave, like Captain Ahab strapped to the white whale. By the time he disappeared, so had all the others.
Immediately, the storm quieted to a drizzle. Other than some leaves and scattered branches, my yard looked pristine. There weren’t even any marks in the grass, and the dwarf boxwoods were unharmed as well. When Woody meowed again, Milly and I nearly swooned.
|
