Category: Dusty’s Corner

Diary of a Slasher: Entry 2

Post author By Dusty Evely
Post date October 28, 2016
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True to my word, I headed out the next day. To watch. Certainly some vile things were happening; not every person at church camp was there to study the Bible. Some of them had to be pursuing some extracurricular activities. No group of teenagers ass all good. All I needed was one frisky couple and I’d be set.
Listen. I’ve been doing this a long time and discovered one ironclad rule of the universe: if you put a group of kids in their late-teens/early-twenties in a secluded location, there will be sex. Always.

Sure enough, I spotted a couple heading off to a cabin. They appeared to be looking around to see if anyone was watching them. Maybe that was my imagination – that I wanted them to be doing something they knew they shouldn’t be – but I don’t think that was the case. Under the cover of the forest, I followed. They opened the door, giggled, and went inside.

Showtime.

I like to wait until their moment has passed, then strike when one of them has gotten up. I’ll kill the one still in bed, wait for the other one to return, then kill them while they’re in shock. It’s a well-used method and it has served me well.

The cabin was raised up a bit, so I was able to lurk below the window without them detecting me. It wasn’t long before I heard the familiar sounds: muffled voices and a couple proclamations of “Oh God.”
They stayed in bed for a while afterwards. I could hear their voices talking, but I couldn’t make out the words. Eventually I heard the familiar sound of old bed springs squeaking as one of them exited the bed. I expertly navigated the back steps – careful to miss the spots that would make noise – and pushed open the back door (I had applied WD-40 to all the hinges before their arrival: never let it be said that I lack preparation).

The boy was still in bed. He was sitting up with his back to me. I thought it was odd that he was fully dressed, but it didn’t change what I needed to do. I raised my axe and put it through his head with one fell swoop. It was then I looked down and noticed what was sitting on his lap: a Bible. They weren’t having sex: they were having a secret Bible study. The proclamations of “Oh God,” were shouted out in prayer.

I couldn’t believe it. How could this be?

As I stood there in shock, the girl came out of the bathroom. Like the boy, she was fully clothed. She looked at me and opened her mouth to scream. With one step I crossed the room and put my axe through her mouth.

I stood there, looking at the scene. It was clear what they were doing in here, but I couldn’t let this get out. I’d never live it down. So I did what any killer would do in my situation: I undressed both of them, took a picture and sent it along to my text thread of other killers. “Guess they weren’t so pious after all,” I wrote. I would have felt bad about it, but my soul left me when I died, so it didn’t bother me.

Then came the clean up. I wasn’t ready to alert the rest of the campers to my presence, so I put the two “love birds” in bed and covered them with a blanket. With no mop in the cabin, I grabbed a brush, got on my knees and started scrubbing up the blood. I wondered if Jason Voorhees had ever pulled a stunt like this, and I came to the conclusion that he probably had at some point in his career.

With my first kill out of the way, it was now time to hit the others. Church camp be damned, I would take all of them out.

You can read Part 1 here.

Tags Camp, Diary of a Slasher, Horror, Slasher

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Transmissions from ScareFest 9: Part II

Post author By Dusty Evely
Post date October 25, 2016
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You can read Part I here.

I had accomplished what I wanted to accomplish during my first day at ScareFest. I bought a couple t-shirts (a Stab shirt for me, a Monster Squad shirt for the munchkin), Elizabeth Fields’ new book, and a couple other random items. My goal for Day 2 was clear: take pictures, strike up random conversations and look for stories. This was always my favorite part of going to conventions, but this was the first convention I would be able to devote a whole day to it.

So off I went in search of adventure, beauty and immaculately dressed people performing everyday tasks. Onward and upward!

What follows is, more or less, a photo journal of my time as I walked the floor, accompanied by entirely too many words by me. I’m the worst.

I encountered this gentleman (gentlemonster?) before I even arrived on the floor. I knew then that it would be a very good day.

This guy spent the entire time in his booth, painting and talking to anyone who came up to him. He was gracious and kind and had a true passion and I loved him.

I can’t decide which I love more: the dead, sad eyes or the Crocs.
Okay I can. It’s the Crocs. It’s always the Crocs.
Is it because they match his gloves? Is it because those Crocs seem like terrible shoes to wear in a butcher shop? I don’t really know, I just know that I love them.

Let’s get a better look at that bad boy, taken slightly later in the day:

From the time I took the first picture to the time I took this one, he had changed his mask and his weapon. I really want to know how that conversation went with the TSA.

“Oh…that? That’s my second pig head. Yes, that’s correct sir.”

Oh, hey there little guy. You looking for your mom?

GET AWAY! GET AWAY!

“Excuse me. Do you have directions…TO HELL? MUWHAHAHAHAHA!
Or, like, Pizza Hut or whatever?”

I have no idea what this was, but I’m pretty sure it has my soul now.

This girl is with a group called Circus Envy and The Deadly Sins. They’re always set up in the same place. I love the look of their “booth.” Here it is without anyone present:

It’s a great look, and everyone involved is extremely friendly. You can often find them milling around the floor interacting with people. I love them.

Speaking of milling around interacting with people, here are a couple of the girls stopping in for a photo op with Ash and Ace Ventura (twin brothers whom I have seen at multiple conventions). The table they’re sitting at is from the dream sequence in Rob Zombie’s Halloween II.
To break this down: we have Ash Williams, Ace Ventura and two vampire girls hanging out with a prop from a Rob Zombie movie.

When people ask me why I love conventions, I point to moments like this.

Join me as I gaze upon the head of Pamela Voorhees.

It’s like someone took Pinhead’s face and created a poorly constructed mask from the loose skin.

I’ve seen these guys at a number of conventions and they always make me laugh. The mask must be impossible to see out of, because Bloody Lab Coat Man has to lead around Leopard Head by the arm the entire time.

I noticed something this time I hadn’t noticed before: Leopard Head is wearing a name tag.

His name is Purrcival Stroppington. How perfect is that?! I love him completely.
Also, his mouth moves when he talks or growls or whatever a man/cat hybrid does.

I have never seen the movie Hocus Pocus – leave me alone – but I know these outfits were spot-on.

Wolf Run – a great wildlife refuge in Kentucky – was there. For $25 you could get your picture taken with a real wolf. Here is the wolf, hanging out with his best friend: Freya, the frightened fox.

YOU GUYS! They’re best friends and they’re snuggling and this may have been the best thing at the convention.

Valak was there, attempting to eat the souls of babies. Like demons do. Let’s get a closer look…

I’m glad Lorraine Warren carved your name in her Bible. And brush your teeth.

Theirs is a beautiful friendship. They will also kill you if you come within 5 feet of them.

This guy was there the entire time I was. Armed with a couple different horns, he walked the floor with one goal: to scare unsuspecting victims. He scared a great many people while he was there.

However, the horns were loud and the floor was open, so you could always tell where he was. If you paid attention, you could avoid ever jumping in the air with fright. He still got a lot of people, but, by the end of the second day, people were getting wise to his antics.

Sorry buddy. You’re not scaring this girl.
This is one of my favorite pictures from the weekend.

This blurry Bigfoot looking clown is named Calypso. When he wasn’t walking around on stilts with an air cannon, he was walking around with huge box strapped to him. When he opened it up, a severed head on a spring would come shooting out of it.

I ended up talking to him for about 15 minutes about why he does what he does. He talked about the need to read people. “If I start walking up and notice someone looking a little uncomfortable, I’ll just get someone else.” During non-convention times, he dresses up as a non-murdery clown and does a lot of kids birthday parties. It was an extremely enlightening conversation.

I don’t think he really was a “Camp Clownseler,” but I wasn’t going to ask him.

I took this picture, then watched as the both of them became a cloud of mist and slowly drifted away.

DEMON SELFIE!

I have a feeling his demonic brethren would frown upon such actions, but it’s a new age. Perhaps these actions are now celebrated in the pits of Hell. Who am I to judge?

I didn’t actually ask him if he went by “Preddy Krueger,” but I assume he does.

This made me laugh entirely too hard.

Hey. Since we’re on the topic of Matthew Lillard…

Here he is sharing a laugh with one of the members of GWAR.

You can’t really see it here, but his shirt says “Clive Barker Rules,” in the same style as the iconic “Stephen King Rules” shirt from The Monster Squad.

As it so happens, I was wearing my “Stephen King Rules” shirt that day. When I passed Matthew Lillard on the floor later that day, we made eye contact, gave a little nod then fist-bumped. I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure that means we’re best friends now.

The point of this story is that Matthew Lillard is awesome and I love him.

One of my favorite things on this day was spotting the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man towering over the masses in random areas.

And now witness the time Stay Puft terrorized Camp Crystal Lake.

No matter who wins, we lose.

I was particularly proud of this shot. Got down on the ground to take it and everything, like a real photographer.
Then I remembered that a ton of people walked through that area, a lot of them likely with terrible, unspeakable things on the bottom of their shoes. I burned my clothes as soon as I got home.

Sometimes you’re in GWAR, but you also get a little lonely and thirsty.

What’s that? Just Courtney Gains taking a selfie with Ash Williams.

This is where I remind you that The Burbs is one of my all-time favorite movies, so I absolutely love Courtney Gains. This picture makes me happy.

This picture of Amy Steel and Harry Manfredini walking around like old friends made me smile like an idiot. I think that’s why Amy is giving me that look: I’m pretty sure I was giggling when I took this.

This guy had one of my favorite costumes of the weekend. I don’t know what it was about it, but his entire look was terrific. I must have passed these people a thousand times and I liked his costume a little more every time I saw them.

Oh ScareFest. Never change.

After going to conventions over the past few years, I can honestly say that, while this isn’t the best Blade I’ve seen, it is still a very good Blade.
I love that I can have absolute opinions on these things.

I’m pretty sure these kinds had weapons on them. They weren’t messing around.

This is the last known image of Sexy Stay Puft and Son of Ernest. I hope you find peace in the next life.

Tags Conventions, Cosplay, Horror, Photo Journal, ScareFest

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Transmissions from ScareFest 9: Part I

Post author By Dusty Evely
Post date October 14, 2016
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Most of these words are true.

This would be my third year attending ScareFest – a horror and paranormal convention held in Lexington, KY – but my first as a member of the press. I had planned to cover the event in a professional manner, as I would be representing Horror-Writers.

I quickly remembered that I don’t know what “professional manner,” means. In lieu of upstanding professionalism, I grabbed my wife’s nice camera so I could at least look the part. I didn’t know what any of the settings meant, but learning is a sucker’s game, and I’m no sucker. So, armed with a press pass and a Canon EOS 30D, I made my way to the ScareFest floor.

As a member of the press, I got to get in a little early. While hundreds of people waited in line for the doors to open – like zombies pressing against the glass in Dawn of the Dead – I brushed past and headed to the Black Carpet event.
The Black Carpet is essentially a Red Carpet type event, but spookier. In front of a ScareFest backdrop, celebrities would walk in front of the backdrop, pose, maybe say a few words, then head off to do celebrity things. Like talk about how much they didn’t like me.
In reality, the main difference between the Red Carpet and Black Carpet is that the Black Carpet can turn into a thick, black tar and pull the person standing on it into a hell dimension in the blink of an eye. It’s really quite thrilling.

While trying to get a picture of Kane Hodder and Felissa Rose, a voice rang out from behind the crowd. “Free beer!” I turned and immediately started sizing up the people around me, trying to figure who I could take out to make my way to this fabled “free beer”.
As it turns out, there was no free beer. It was yelled out by Steven Williams. I know him as “X” from The X-Files, but he is also known from his role in 21 Jump Street, and more recently in Supernatural. He thought this was funny, but he made a mortal enemy this day.

*You will rue the day you crossed me, Williams*

Steven was funny and charismatic and honest, proclaiming, “Some of these people think they’re stars: I’m just doing this to pay my rent.”

At some point, Ernest P. Worrell – or rather Son of Ernest – began walking around with a box full of comic books, passing out random issues to everyone standing around. I walked away with Spawn #2. I have a confession to make: I have never read an issue of Spawn in my life. But now that Ernest has handed me one, I suppose I had better start.

Eventually the Black Carpet event ended and we were all allowed to walk the floor. The theme this year was Camp ScareFest, and they did it up right. Camp Crystal Lake could be found near the back of the floor, complete with dead campers and a dock featuring sack-headed Jason Voorhees patrolling with an axe. There was also another Jason popping out of the astro-turf water, because you can never have too many Jasons.

Being a member of the press affords certain luxuries, like getting to walk the floor for roughly 30 minutes before the doors are open to the public. This gave me an opportunity to check out the layout without having to navigate my way through the mass of bodies that would soon descend on the area. It also gave me an opportunity to talk to a couple of the celebrities without waiting in line.

*I was going to talk to this celebrity, but he looked like he was in the middle of an important business deal. Stock trading or some such nonsense.*

A couple friends of mine were also there, and we spent most of that time milling around. We found ourselves talking to Ari Lehman, who spent most of the time talking about how great his Camp Crystal Lake hot sauce was. “Man, you gotta smell it. It’s made with ghost peppers and garlic.” He popped the top and, sure enough, it smelled spicy and garlicy. I also detected a hint of blood that had been extracted from the lifeless bodies of irresponsible camp counselors, but I knew better than to ask.

We moved on and spotted Rachel True, which caused one of my friends to come very close to hyperventilating. He was basically Jay Baruchel’s character in Almost Famous when talking about Led Zeppelin. He went up and talked to her while me and my other friend hung back, so as not to ruin his moment. “It’s all happening, it’s all happening,” he muttered under his breath.
As it turns out, we ruined his moment anyway. While he was talking to her, she was looking at me. Sorry buddy. I can’t control these powers I have.

After he recovered, we walked the floor a bit more, splitting up if we found something that struck our fancy: one of us to ponder purchasing a “Stab” t-shirt, another drawn in by the Christine display, and so on. In my solo travels, I had seen one of the celebrities walking around the floor. “That’s cool,” I thought. “Just checking out the booths like everyone else.”

I eventually met back up with my friends and we stumbled across this celebrity.
“Hey guys.”
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Do you know where my booth is?”
“Uh…sure. It’s in the back. Just follow this row and you’ll run right into it.”
“Thanks. [Pause] I just got high.”

And off that person walked in the direction of the booth.
We all smiled and nodded and agreed that we loved this place completely.

*Oh this? Just a stroller full of your nightmares*

We eventually wandered up to the Thoroughbred Ballroom to catch the Scream panel. Skeet Ulrich and Matthew Lillard would be there, talking about Scream or whatever else they felt like waxing poetic about. It was something we didn’t want to miss.
It was better than I thought it would be. While Ulrich sat behind the table with his microphone, Lillard wandered the room, speaking hilariously and candidly about Scream and the life of an actor. And Ulrich’s abs. He talked a lot about Ulrich’s abs. The entire thing was hilarious and eye-opening and over far too soon.

My friends took off and I attended a short story workshop with Elizabeth Fields (friend of the website, and overall terrific person). She talked about the power of the short story, and finding power in very few words. I learned to “write what scares you,” and took that lesson to heart. It was a tremendous workshop.

Before heading out for the day, I decided to take one last pass of the floor. It was mostly cleared out by that point, but I got a chance to talk to an odd group for a while. They were a ghost hunting trio: one dressed as 1966 Batman, another as Tim Burton’s Batman and another wearing a Superman hoodie. It’s hard to put the entire conversation into words, because it really felt more like a fever dream than an actual, regular conversation. But I did manage to write down bits of it before my brain shut down. I present to you a random assortment of conversation snippets:

Superman Hoodie died twice: once by falling off a cliff. I don’t remember the other way, but I do know that it involved a two-week coma and something about throwing a 250 pound man across the room when he woke up. Superman Hoodie was 70 and weighed roughly 160 pounds.
1966 Batman nearly cut his finger off with a samurai sword when he grabbed the blade instead of the hilt. He removed his elbow-length gloves to show me the scar.
Superman Hoodie told me he has diabetes in his leg, and was once doing a paranormal investigation in the basement of a haunted house when something dark flew through him. I do not know if these two events are related.
Superman Hoodie is 70 years old, has a 37 year old girlfriend and will berate you if you mention retiring. Or not retiring. I get the feeling he would berate you no matter what you do.
Tim Burton’s Batman told me they were paranormal investigators and showed me their card. I asked if I could have one, but she quickly withdrew the card and told me they didn’t have any more. These were the only words I heard her speak.

It was a strange, perfect conversation to cap a lovely day. I had seen what I wanted to see and bought what I wanted to buy. I would return the following day with a couple simple goals: take pictures of people in costume, look for odd interactions and strike up random conversations when the moment presented itself. My feet were killing me, but I couldn’t wait to get back to the main floor.

As I left the main floor and wound through the building on the way back to my car, I saw Adrienne King and Amy Steel walking down the hall together, sharing a laugh. I couldn’t help but smile.

Tomorrow. There would be more stories tomorrow. I hope you join me.

To be continued…

More convention/travel fun:

Transmissions from HorrorHound Indianapolis 2016

Transmissions from Wizard World Comic Con

Transmissions from the International Cryptozoology Museum

Transmissions from ScareFest 7

Tags Ari Lehman, Convention, Cosplay, Elizabeth Fields, Matthew Lillard, Rachel True, ScareFest, Scream, Skeet Ulrich

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Transmissions from HorrorHound Indianapolis, 2016

Post author By Dusty Evely
Post date September 13, 2016
No Comments on Transmissions from HorrorHound Indianapolis, 2016

After hearing so much about HorrorHound, I decided that I should probably see what all the fuss was about. Indianapolis is roughly a 3 hour drive from my house, so it was a bit of a commitment, but it was one I was willing to make.

I haven’t really had a chance to collect my thoughts into anything even approaching coherent, so I decided to make this post a kind of dumping ground of uncollected thoughts. I know you’re probably asking, “Well, if you can’t make your thoughts coherent, why post anything at all?” I would respond that I don’t understand the question and I won’t respond to it.

1. I hung out with CC and Sophie from the Bloody Good Horror crew for a little bit. (Also, CC’s friend Andi.) They were amazing. I wanted to get my picture taken with them, but they all told me that their images wouldn’t show up on camera. They told me this in unison, then looked me directly in the eye until I put my phone back in my pocket. I reached up to touch my eye to find a small trickle of blood. But I’m sure it’s fine. It’s FINE.
I also briefly met Joe from BGH. He’s a tall gentleman with a firm handshake and would probably kill a man if he had to. I liked him.

2. I stopped at Bojangles on my way out of town. It was my first experience. Some people swear it’s better than Popeye’s. Those people are liars.

3. I walked into the main celebrity autograph room, heard a child screaming in delight and a man gruffly and loudly saying something I couldn’t understand. I looked towards the sound to see a man holding a kicking child while the child’s parents laughed. The man who was holding the child and speaking gruffly was Michael Rooker. I assume the child survived. I should probably not assume this. Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer still haunts me.

4. Speaking of Michael Rooker, I saw the above monstrosity – what became of Rooker’s character in Slither – shuffling towards the celebrity room. I should have followed him to see how that interaction would go, but I didn’t. Whenever someone asks me if I have any regrets in my life, I will think about this moment and fall silent for a long time.

5. Not many Jokers showed up, so this guy really stood out. Less because he was The Joker and more because he looked like Garry Shandling in really thick make-up.

6. Tony Todd seems like a super nice guy. If I felt like spending money to have awkward conversations with celebrities, he would have been my first pick. Instead, I opted to stand across the room from his table and stare at him as he talked to people. Shockingly, I was not ushered out by security.

7. Every time I walked by Danielle Bisutti’s table, she was signing autographs and talking to people. She always looked incredibly, sincerely interested in what they were saying. I wanted to tell her how awesome I thought that was, but, again, I didn’t want to spend any money to tell her this. I toyed with the idea of writing a note and asking someone in her line to give it to her while I stood across the room giving her a thumb’s up, but I didn’t have a paper and pen with me.

8. I want to adopt Tom Atkins as my grandfather.

9. One of the celebrity rooms hosted a Halloween 6: The Curse of Michael Myers reunion. There was a man dressed as Michael Myers standing outside the room all day. He always agreed to a photo-op, but he never said a word and I never saw him take a break. Pretty impressive commitment.

10. I was in a screening room before Yoga Hosers (more on that in a moment). Chris Sarandon popped in, talked about how we would be watching a music video starring himself and directed by his stepson, then promptly left. It was fine. Chris Sarandon is still handsome.

11. After that music video, they put on a short film called Born Again. I loved it. Think if the ending of Rosemary’s Baby wasn’t quite as well orchestrated by the Satanic Cult. It was a great concept and hilarious execution. I can’t wait to see it again.

12. I really wanted to catch a screening of something while I was there. I had pegged The Exorcist pilot, but I got in too late for that. So I went with Yoga Hosers. The trailer looked terrible, but I thought I would give it a shot. After all, Tusk didn’t look great and I enjoyed that movie pretty well.
I should have known what I was in for during the introduction. Robert Kurtzman stood in the front of the room and essentially told us that the movie was getting mixed reviews because some people don’t like to have fun. “It’s a Kevin Smith movie. They’re fun. Just have fun with it.” Someone yelled, “Kevin Smith is awesome,” and the crowd nodded in agreement. I sat in the back of the room, ready to make a quick escape if the room saw I wasn’t enjoying myself and decided to turn on me.
I lasted roughly 40 minutes. Here is what the bulk of the jokes involved:
– “Canadians say some words different than Americans.”
– “Teenagers sure like social media.”
– Women have periods.

There is also a scene in which it is strongly implied that a tiny Nazi sausage climbs inside a man’s anus and kills him. I’m no prude, but death by Nazi sausage rape is not something that makes me laugh. I know, I know. Call me crazy.

Maybe I’m just old, but none of it was funny. I thought about staying until the end, but I was tired and wanted to take one more pass of the floor before leaving, so I got up and left. By that point, I had a good enough feel for the humor to know that if I didn’t enjoy it so far, I wasn’t going to suddenly find it funny.

13. This made me laugh entirely too hard. They appear to be a couple of Michael Dougherty fans, with one more committed than the other.
Something to note: Sam’s sucker isn’t in its knife form. That must be pre-murder Sam. It was a simpler time for him.

14. I didn’t see Bruce Campbell, but I did see “Hall Of Heads Bruce Campbell,” and it will be sure to haunt my nightmares. Those little teeth, man. Those little teeth.

The Bruce Campbell mask was part of HorrorHound’s MaskFest: an entire room filled with masks. I spent a lot of time in that room.

15. Sad Slenderman. I can’t look at this picture without thinking about this:

16. I saw a young girl – 5 or 6, I would say – dressed like Taryn from Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors. She had little switchblade knife combs and everything. It was perfect.

17. There was a set of twin brothers: one was dressed as Ash from the Evil Dead franchise, the other was dressed as Ace Ventura. I had seen these guys at the Lexington Comic & Toy Convention earlier this year. Ace Ventura is always in character. It’s impressive and it also seems like it would be exhausting.

I saw all of those things and so much more. I had a blast. It was a different experience than ScareFest – instead of one big room, this was broken up into a few different rooms, which led to some great people watching in some of the main areas – but I loved it. The long drive will likely stop me from attending every year, but I can pretty much guarantee that my first visit won’t be my last.

Until next time, Mr. HorrorHound.

More shenanigans!

Transmissions from ScareFest 7

Transmissions from Wizard World Comic Con

Transmissions from the International Cryptozoology Museum

Tags Convention, Cosplay, HorrorHound

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The World Ender: A Short Story

Post author By Dusty Evely
Post date August 4, 2016
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I was a man. But they took that from me.

I ran with The Sawyer Gang. Chet & Amos Sawyer were brothers, and they were particularly savage creatures. In the grand scheme of their gang, I found myself somewhere in the middle. “The money crew,” as they called it. Our main targets were banks and trains, but we’d hit anything that would put money in our pockets. I would have knocked over a small child if it meant I could put a couple bucks in my pocket. Hell, I probably did.

But the higher guys? As near as I could tell, they would just rampage around the countryside, looking for people to kill. Maybe they had their reasons. Maybe they didn’t. But that really was none of my concern. As long as I kept pulling in money, they didn’t care who I was.

I wasn’t what you would call “happy,” but I was content. I found something I was good at and I did it. Isn’t that what happiness is?

That all ended when I met Myra. She lived in town. The Sawyers had a place about a mile outside, but I’d find myself in town about once a week. I wish I could say my heart stopped the first time I saw her; that something within me changed immediately. But that wouldn’t be true. The truth of it is that I barely paid her any mind for a long time. Hers was just another face I vaguely recognized.

The more I saw her, the more I paid attention. A light seemed to shine from behind those pale blue eyes.
Our interactions started small. I would tip my hat, she would smile shyly, look around and rush off. Eventually I worked my way up to giving her a flower. She abruptly turned around and walked as fast as she could in the opposite direction. I watched her until her dirty blonde braid disappeared behind the side of a building.

I understood. It was known that I was with the Sawyers. And, though we never “practiced our craft” in the town, the people there knew who we were. They were courteous, but only out of fear. Every interaction was met with a tight-lipped smile. I saw that face on every townsperson, and I saw that face on Myra.

I was undeterred. All I wanted was a conversation. After a few months, she started to warm up to me. We exchanged pleasantries. She allowed me to walk her home. Eventually, she agreed to have dinner with me.

The Sawyers began to notice these interactions, and they did not care for them. In their minds, if a man had someone to live for, it meant they might think twice when risking their lives for the good of The Sawyers, and that could not be tolerated. I’m not a smart man, but I am a perceptive one, and I could feel the sword dangling over my head.

I met Myra for dinner. She seemed happy. Completely at ease. I never thought I would find that. I always assumed I would work my way up the ranks and die in a flurry of bullets, like every true outlaw dreamed of. But if I ever was a true outlaw, that part of me had left. I had to take my chance.

“Myra,” I said, taking her hand in mine. “I know this is sudden, but I need to ask you something.” Her eyes were wary, but not thrown off. “I need to leave this place. If the Sawyers find out about this…I don’t know what they’ll do. They’ll come looking for me. And as much as I would love it, I can’t ask you…”
She cut me off. “I’ll come with you.”
I was completely taken aback. I smiled bigger than I knew I was capable of. “Tonight. It has to be tonight.”
“Why not right now?” she asked with a smirk. “This place has terrible service.”

We waited until dark. Myra grabbed what she could and we rode out of town. Together. The thrill of it all was more than anything I had ever experienced.

We rode for days. Weeks. Months. I lost track of time. We rode until we were sure we were clear of the Sawyers and settled on some land hidden by trees. We built a little house. And we were happy. Just us two.

It wasn’t long before “us two” became “us three.” We welcomed Rosie into the world on a crisp August day. She was everything to us. She was beautiful. She was perfect. She was ours.

We had to expand the house to account for the little one. One project led to another, and it got to a point where I couldn’t remember the last day I didn’t have a hammer in my hands. It feels like all I did was blink and Rosie was right there next to me, swinging a hammer of her own. She grew up quick, and life out there was tough, but she was about the sweetest, best-natured person I had ever come across. She got that from Myra. There were times I’d be building something with Rosie and I’d catch Myra out of the corner of my eye, just smiling.

Our life was perfect. I should have known it wasn’t going to last. Maybe I did and I just didn’t want to believe it. A lot of people say they have premonitions about these kinds of things. “I dreamed of a flaming horse riding through our house,” or something like that. Maybe that’s true. Maybe it’s not. I know there was nothing like that for me. One minute we were perfect. And then all I remember were the flames.

The smoke was creeping under the door. I smelled it, but I couldn’t immediately place what it meant. By the time I reacted, it was already too late.

I can’t bear to relive most of the details of that night. The sounds and smells are things I will never forget. I watched as the light went out of Myra’s eyes. And Rosie…I can’t even think about Rosie. Then it was my turn. I closed my eyes. The last thing I heard was the voice of Chet Sawyer. I can’t even remember what he said. The words didn’t matter. I felt cold steel against my throat and I slumped to the dirt, watching my blood mix with the dirt. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the sky. And maybe it was just the fire, but the sky burned a dangerous blood red.

I felt rage. I felt anger. I felt sadness. Then I felt nothing at all.

They put me in the ground. I don’t specifically remember it, but it must have happened as I found myself buried deep underground, without so much as a cheap wooden box to hold my body. By the time I found my way to the surface, my house was nothing but a pile of ash. It was cool to the touch. How long had I been out? And why am I not dead?

I reached up to feel my neck. I felt dried blood and a deep wound. Then I realized something else that I felt: my neck was cold. I touched my face. My arms. My legs. Everything was cold. It dawned on me that the answer to the question “why am I not dead,” was easy: I was dead.

As I was attempting to process this information, I looked across the burned landscape that was once my home. I noticed something caught in one of the trees, flapping slightly in the breeze. I walked over and found it to be one of Myra’s scarves. It had been burned in the fire, but only around the edges. If I had been capable of tears, I can assure you at least one would have rolled down my cheek. But I am not. Not anymore. I grabbed it from the tree and tied it around my neck to cover my scar.

My path was clear. I would destroy the very mention of the Sawyers. The name itself would die on people’s lips. The mere thought of what happened to them would send shivers up spines. I would take what they did to my family and repay it tenfold. I would tear the world up until I had my revenge.

And so, with one last look at the remains of my home, I began walking.

Inspiration:

Tags Lord Huron, revenge, Short Stories, Western, Zombie