"Read any good books lately?"
We've all been asked the question hundreds of times, but once you begin reading J.L. Bryan's The Haunted e-Book that question is likely ...
To send chills up your spine?
To creep you out?
To ruin e-books for you forever?
Probably not the last thing, but prepare to be scared.
"Think Ur Meets The Bookman's Promise."
By Stephen Windwalker
Editor, Kindle Nation Daily
©Kindle Nation Daily 2011
©Kindle Nation Daily 2011
I don't know about you, but as a reader, a former bookstore owner, and an author, I've always been a sucker for books about books ... about booksellers ... about libraries ... and lately, about ebooks.
I loved Stephen King's Ur and I was thrilled when John Dunning's Cliff Janeway books became available on Kindle.
But King's novella was short and had a bit of the "made-to-order" product placement about it, so now I'm happy to share with you the news that a terrific full-length novel by JL Bryan has become available on the Kindle and ... yes ... about the Kindle. And it's a real treat to be able to share this 5,000-word free excerpt with you through our Free Kindle Nation Shorts program!
The author is in the midst of a blog tour to promote the book, and he is giving away some nice prizes. You can find out more about those here -- http://www.jlbryanbooks.com/thehauntedebooktour.html -- but to be totally truthful I should let you know that I called him up at home this evening and told him "Jeff, I'm happy to mention the blog tour and the giveaways, but you've got a terrific book here and I don't want the other stuff to get in the way of that/"
So here at Kindle Nation, we're all about the book, and here it is. Enjoy....
by JL Bryan
4.1 out of 5 stars - 10 Reviews
Kindle Price: $2.99
Text-to-Speech and Lending: Enabled
Here's the set-up:
Dee escapes her dreary librarian job and unfaithful boyfriend by reading romance and fantasy on her Kindle.
She tries The Haunted E-book, the story of a 19th century tramp printer whose ghost awakens whenever someone reads a book he created. The ghost stalks his readers and threatens them with death if they stop reading the book. Though she doesn't usually like ghost stories, Dee can't stop herself from reading it.
Then Dee learns the stories in the book are true, the malevolent ghost is real, and Dee might be the next character to die.
 Free Kindle Nation Shorts - March 2, 2011An Excerpt from The Hauted e-Book A Novel by JL Bryan Copyright © 2011 by JL Bryan and published here with his permission |
"Don't that thing hurt your eyes?" asked the children's librarian, Cloris Measley. Cloris was in her fifties, her hair a shade of red that could not be found in nature. "No, it's not like a computer screen." Dee tapped the Amazon Kindle in her hands. "It's made just for reading." "Seems like it'd hurt your eyes." Cloris sat across from Dee at the picnic table. Dee was enjoying her half-hour lunch break. The picnic table behind the library was under a stand of old oak trees, and it offered the only shade in sight on a hot September day. "These kids are worse every summer," Cloris said. "I can feel my hair turning gray. Mind if I smoke?" Dee shook her head. Cloris glanced back over her shoulder at the back door of the library, then slipped a Virginia Slim into her mouth. "Sorry," Cloris said. "Have to sneak when I can. Leslie still don't let me smoke on library property. Which don't make it easy, listening to kids holler and cleaning snot off their books." "I'm sorry," Dee said. "I'm sorry for you, too," Cloris said. "You should have been promoted to Circulation Librarian II. I don't see why Maggie got it, she's not all there." "Maggie's in Leslie's bridge club," Dee said. "I'm not, and I haven't been invited, either." "Would you play, if they invited?" Cloris asked. "No!" They both laughed. "And how is that boyfriend?" Cloris asked. "You still seeing Justin?" "I see him, but I'm not sure he sees me," Dee said. Cloris gave an uncomfortable laugh. She looked at the Kindle and changed the subject. "What are you reading?" "It's a seventeenth-century romance," Dee said. "The Pirates of Paris." "Why on Earth would there be pirates in Paris? There's no ocean." "They have to spend their loot somewhere," Dee said. "In this case, the rugged pirate captain Jacques Forquois is wooing a young noblewoman, Mireille. But she's engaged to an aristocrat, the Marquis du Chappelier. So they have to meet in secret places, brothels, playhouses..." "How exciting!" Cloris said. "Do they got it as a real book, too? Or just a computer thingy?" "I'm not sure." The back door of the library swung open, and branch manager Leslie McKenna stood there, hunched over her cane. Cloris heard the door open behind her and visibly panicked, looking down at the burning cigarette in her fingers. "Cloris?" Leslie asked. "Cloris, what are you doing back here?" "I'm just looking at Dee's new computer book whatcha-callit!" "There are two children in need of reading recommends," Leslie sang. "Why don't you come in now?" Cloris crushed out her cigarette. "Now, Cloris!" Cloris crammed the cigarette butt down between two boards of the picnic table. She stood, brushed off, and gave Dee a nervous smile. "Cloris!" Leslie yelled. "Good luck," Dee whispered. Cloris walked to the back door of the library. Leslie took up most of the doorway, leaning on her cane, and refused to move. Cloris had to turn sideways and squeeze past her. Leslie sniffed at Cloris and shook her head. Leslie cast Dee a suspicious look, then slammed the heavy metal door. Dee's cell phone rang, for the third time today. Justin. She didn't want to hear about how he was working late again, or going out to Danny O's with the boys again. She could tell when he was lying. Instead, she turned off her phone and dove into the world of charming pirates, French court politics, and eager Mireille's heavy and passionate bosom. It was her only escape from Leslie, from Justin, from the hot and dying town of Elmer, Georgia, where she'd gotten trapped somewhere between the end of college and the start of her real life, the one that would begin on some yet-to-be-determined day on the future. Dee read: "I will love you forever," Jacques proclaimed, grabbing Mireille hastily in the wardrobe room of the theater. Out beyond the stage, the audience sighed at a sad moment in the play. "But we cannot be together!" Mireille sighed. "My father would forbid it!" "In my world, the world of pirates, nothing is forbidden," Jacques breathed suavely, caressing her. "Oh, but in my world, everything is!" Mireille sighed. The rest of her day at the library was as dull as the morning had been. Dee suffered under the hawkish stare of Leslie, who had never adjusted to the county assigning a black woman to work in her library, though Dee had been at the library four years now. Dee went home to an empty apartment. It was small, tucked into the upper corner of a rundown brick building. The building had four apartments in all, and the two downstairs had been empty as long as she'd lived here. The apartment was cramped but comfortable, with secondhand bookshelves along most of the walls. These were stuffed with poetry, plays, fantasy, romance. Most of her books were tattered paperbacks scrounged from flea markets and garage sales. Dee walked into the kitchenette and pressed the automatic can opener. Skitter bounded into the room as fast as his heavy belly would allow. The fat orange cat must have been sleeping in her bed, or on the cool tiles of her bathroom floor, since those were the only other rooms in her apartment. "There you are." Dee scratched Skitter's neck. He purred while she poured dry food in his bowl. "You decide to make an appearance?" She was convinced Skitter had the power to turn invisible. Even in this tiny apartment, he could disappear for days at a time. The only evidence of his existence would be the magically disappearing cat food and the magically dirty litter box. "Where do you think Justin is?" she asked Skitter. "Working late, grinding the sausage? Shooting pool with the guys? What do you think?" Skitter had no opinion. He crunched into his cat food. Dee called Justin's phone, but he didn't answer. "Justin, we don't have much to eat," she said to his voice mail. "Since you're at the grocery store, grab us something. Not pickles and bacon again, either." She hung up. He probably wasn't at the Farm-N-Fresh Grocery Mart, making yet another "special meat order." Ella Rae was a cashier at the Farm-N-Fresh. She was twenty-four, ten years younger than Justin, but always looking at Justin with her chest poked out, twirling her purple hair around her fingertip and snapping her gum. Dee saw how she winked at him, how she punched him in the arm and giggled, and now Dee couldn't stand to shop at Farm-N-Fresh anymore. She had to drive twenty miles to the Kroger in Americus. Dee picked up the Kindle again. Jacques kissed her full, ripe, red, strawberry-like lips. He kissed her with great ardor, caressing her curvaceous bosom. "Oh, Jacques," Mireille sighed. "You are such a dangerous and manly pirate." "I can't do it anymore, Skitter," Dee said. "This book is too stupid." Skitter licked his paw indifferently. "I'm sick of romance. It's all bullcrap. In real life, your boyfriend isn't a dashing and suave pirate who ties roses to your doorknob as a secret message. He slices bologna at the Farm-N-Fresh and forgets to wear deodorant and then he sleeps with some drugged-out checkout girl and pretends you don't know it. And you wonder what you were thinking, dating a townie." Skitter jumped into the easy chair and curled up. He closed his eyes. "Thanks for your support," Dee said. She picked up the Kindle and clicked the bookstore link. Dee's neighbor BJ had a wireless internet thing, and let her feed it off it. She supposedly paid him a few dollars a month for this, but he never really accepted the money. Dee stared at the bookstore page. She wanted something dark and twisted. Like real life. Something where the characters seemed real, everybody suffered, and nobody was happy at the end. This mood eventually led her to the horror section. Each book had a cover graphic, so this meant sifting through pages of skulls, castles, candles, tombstones, sinister red churches, countless pale and sallow vampires. One oddball book caught her attention. The cover was plain and black-no lingerie models dripping blood from their mouths, no rotten hands jutting out of the grave. The title, in ghostly letters, was: THE HAUNTED E-BOOK By Unknown Dee snickered at the title. It might as well be called The Evil Penguin or The Demonic Shoelace. And the author hadn't even put his name on it, a pretty bad sign. She decided she could use a laugh, so she downloaded the free sample chapter of the book. The first page of the book said: WARNING: Publisher not responsible for any supernatural incidents, events or hauntings that may result from reading this book. "Ha!" Dee said. "Cute. Skitter, you should read this." Skitter was asleep on his back, snore-purring, his fluffy white belly exposed to the world. Dee pressed the arrow button to flip the page. The story began: THE HAUNTED E-BOOK: Chapter 1. Madison was alone on the seventh floor of the university library. She sat at her favorite table, by the windows. Outside, the night was as dark as death. The full moon stared at her like a cold yellow eye, watching and waiting. Madison had not noticed as the handful of other students left over the past hour, taking their books and notes with them. She liked the ninth floor because it was quiet, especially at night. The floor held odd-sized books, like art folios. It was the top floor, the most remote. She liked being away from everyone. People always stared at the twisted pink burn scars on the left side of her face and down along her neck. If she had noticed everyone was gone, she would have been glad. The library was her retreat from her annoying, peppy roommate, who didn't mind having loud and squealy sex with her boyfriend Tyler, even when Madison was trying to sleep in the same room. Madison didn't notice she was alone because she was absorbed in the Kindle reader in her hands. The story had completely drawn her in, and she lost all sense of her own surroundings. She was reading something called The Haunted E-book. It was kind of stupid, but also kind of scary. And it was getting scarier. Madison read: 4 THE HAUNTED E-BOOK: Chapter 4. Parker stalked away from her friends, who still laughed at her from the food court. Her face was red and angry. It wasn't funny that Brenden had cheated on her with Misty. She didn't see how that was funny at all. To be alone, she walked down the mall's south wing, where a lot of the stores had permanently closed. The storefronts were either covered in plywood or just staring out like blank glass eyes. The only two stores still open up here were a Candy's Candles and a Buddy's Book-A-Rama. Parker glanced into Candy's Candles. It was illuminated only by candlelight, with dozens of odors swirling together-jasmine, vanilla, cherry blossom, chocolate, musk. The combination of so many smells was sickening. Inside the store, an elderly clerk slumbered at the checkout. Her wrinkled eyelids were closed behind her glasses, which had slid down to the tip of her nose. Parker walked past the candle store. At the end of the south wing was Buddy's, her favorite place when she was a child. On Saturdays, they used to have people dressed like famous book characters, Peter Pan or the grinning Cheshire cat. Their children's book section was a wonderland that took up half the store, with fairy castles and furry hand puppets. She'd lost interest in Buddy's around age eleven, when she started middle school. Now she stepped into the store for the first time in five years. Buddy's had not thrived. The linoleum floor in the grown-up part of the store was filthy and cracked. The bright orange carpet in the children's half was spattered with dark stains, and some areas were frayed and showed the concrete floor beneath. The handpainted castle was peeling and dusty. The Storytime Land behind the cheerful picket fence, where the children's specialist used to read stories to young customers, had once been decorated with brightly colored chairs and cushions. Now it was a storage area crammed with cardboard boxes, bulging garbage bags and empty rotating paperback racks. Puppets lay strewn on the floor of the children's section like bodies after a war. She saw Larry the Lion, his arm sheared off, his eyes gouged out, his mane clotted with years of snot. The smiling puppet clown Pupeeto had a pencil stabbed through his mouth, and it looked like he was choking on it. Half the lights were out overhead, and the remaining yellow fluorescent bars sizzled and flickered, giving the store a shuddering, nauseating look. She didn't see any customers, or any employees in their smiley-face yellow Buddy's Book-A-Rama aprons. The four checkout lanes were empty, their jaunty twirling lights switched off. Parker walked past aisle after aisle of books, seeing no people. The bookshelves seemed understocked and dusty, with large empty gaps in every section. Torn books were scattered on the crumbling linoleum floor. "Hello? Is anybody here?" Parker heard herself ask. It was a stupid question. The store was open, so obviously somebody was here. They must be working in the back. A great chance to swipe something. Parker walked down the horror aisle, looking for books with the scariest, goriest covers. She didn't care about reading them, but she wanted Brenden to see her reading books like that. Then she could look up at him with cold, glaring eyes over a black book with snarling red corpses on the cover, like she was plotting revenge. Maybe she could do that at school Monday. She found the grossest zombie paperback the store had, with a guy's face eaten up by maggots. She looked around. She didn't see any cameras, or any of those weird rounded mirrors she was convinced might be cameras, too. She shoved the book down the front of her jeans. She adjusted her wide belt, then quickly covered the bulging waistband of her jeans with her shirt. A loud squeaking, clacking sound echoed through the store the moment she had the book covered. She looked up again, panicked, but still couldn't see any sign of security cameras. No way anybody had seen her swipe the book way back here in the aisle. Parker strolled as casually as she could out of the aisle, listening to the squeaking and clacking as it slowed down. She stepped into the open central space of the store. She still didn't see anybody, but she found the source of the squeaking. In the story-land-turned-storage-area, one of the empty paperback racks was spinning. Something tacked to it kept clacking against the other empty racks. It looked like someone had tied something to the rack, given it a hard spin, and then run away. Parker walked past some cheesy display with a big projection screen above it. She stepped over the fence into the children's section and approached the rack as its spinning slowed. It stopped when she reached it. Whatever had been tied to the rack was behind it, caught on another rack. Parker lay her shaking hand on the rack. She slowly turned it until she saw what had been attached. It was Pupeeto the clown, pencil impaled through his mouth, pinning him to the rack. She held the clown in her hand. Its big orange wig and puffy shirt buttons were stiff with years of kid saliva. One button eye dangled by a thread. "Pupeeto?" she said aloud. There was a loud clattering, then a crash. Parker spun around. The store was closed. The wire mesh security wall had just rolled down across the entrance, trapping her inside. "Hey!" Parker yelled. She ran to the mesh and tried to pull it up, but it wouldn't give. It felt locked into place. She pulled as hard as she could, and the middle fingernail on her left hand bent backward and snapped. "Ow!" Parker slapped both palms against the wire security mesh. "Hey! Somebody help me!" she yelled into the deserted south wing of the mall. Empty storefronts stared back at her. She heard footsteps behind her. Immediately she thought of the stolen paperback in her jeans, which felt as big as a Buick right now. She looked down at her shirt, hoping the rectangular bulge wasn't too obvious. Now she knew what had happened. Some manager had seen her swipe the book. He was bored and so had gotten all sadistic, freaking her out with the clown puppet and the security gate. He was probably in back now, calling mall security, or the police. Parker's mom was going to kill her. She was sweating now, her heart thumping fast. Her eyes darted around the store for a place to unload the book before the manager nabbed her. Then, row by row, the fluorescent lights went out. Only the panel above her still glowed, plus the emergency exit sign at the back of the store, and also the stupid yellow display with the glowing projection screen. Parker didn't know whether to cry out again or not. There was nobody outside the store to hear her. Besides, the mall closed at eleven. She checked the time on her phone: 10:55. She heard more footsteps. She could imagine the manager, some balding overweight loser in his forties, grabbing her up and yelling at her. She took a deep breath and turned around. Nobody was there, as far as she could see. The store was dark, the book aisles black as caves. Parker stood alone under the single lit panel, as if spotlighted for everyone to see. The paperback in her jeans felt heavy as a boulder. "Hello?" she said. She rapped her fingers on the security mesh. "Hey, I'm still in here. Want to let me out?" No response came from the dark. Above her, the remaining fluorescent light trembled and sizzled. Then it popped. The rectangular light panel shattered, and one corner dropped out of the ceiling. Broken glass and a shower of sparks spilled down on Parker. She screamed and covered her head with her arms. Sparks stung her hands and burned her scalp. She ran deeper into the store. Behind her, the ceiling light broke free of its housing and crashed to the floor tile where Parker had stood. The ceiling tile shattered, then the long fluorescent tube fell and shattered after it, skipping shards through the store like stones across a pond. Parker screamed and ducked behind a pair of scuffed armchairs separated by an end table. There had once been a fake brick fireplace behind the chairs, to simulate a warm and cozy reading nook, but that was gone now. She smelled the reek of burning hair and realized it was her own. She slapped her hands all over her head. She found the hot spot where the fire was starting and ground it under the heel of her hand. The crispy burnt-hair smell hung in the air around her. She rose up, still hiding behind the armchair as if the broken light fixture were going to jump up and attack her. The shards of glass had flung out all over the front of the store. Parker hoped her cheap sandals were tough enough to walk over them. She was still alone, as far as she could tell, except for those footsteps she'd heard. Everybody must be in back, she thought. Maybe the controls for the security gate and the lights were back there. She started towards the unmarked door at the back of the store, under the glowing red EXIT light. Her eye passed over the special display. The glowing words on its projection screen were the main source of light now. Parker stopped and looked back at the projection screen. She read the floating words a second time: Parker couldn't understand why Brenden wasn't texting her back. Misty wasn't answering, either. Parker frowned. She had texted Brenden a few times that afternoon, and he hadn't replied. But then again, neither had Misty. And now, after finding Brenden and Misty kissing at the mall together, she knew why. She moved closer to the display. It was a bright yellow cardboard kiosk with the trademark Buddy's smiley-face. Mounted at eye level was a thin plastic screen with just a couple of arrow buttons. It was labeled, in puffy words, the BOOK BUDDY BOOK READER. Brochures explained how the Book Buddy enabled you to download digital books from BuddysBookARama.com. All the bestsellers and all your old and new favorites, the brochure explained, were available for download. There was text on the Book Buddy screen, which reminded her of a big graphing calculator, liquid black text on a gray background. Whatever was on the screen was also projected onto the big, TV-sized screen at the top of the display, to attract attention from all over the store. She continued reading. Parker suspected something was up. But she didn't want to think about what. Parker pressed the arrow button to turn the digital page. Her eyes grew wider as she read. The book described her day-how she was supposed to meet Brenden at the mall tonight but he wasn't calling her back. And then she went to the mall anyway and eventually found Brenden and Misty making out in the food court, with Alaina just kind of hanging out with them and smiling. And how they all laughed at Parker when she got mad. The book described her walking away from the food court, up to the second floor and along the empty south wing of the mall, into Buddy's. It described the clown pinned to the book rack. The overhead light blowing out. Parker discovering the big yellow Book Buddy display. The book described her walking away from the food court, up to the second floor and along the empty south wing of the mall, into Buddy's. It described the clown pinned to the book rack. The overhead light blowing out. Parker discovering the big yellow Book Buddy display, she read from the digital screen. Parker felt her blood turn to ice. It was like the book was all about her. It was too freaky. She imagined again the balding, overweight manager in his forties, delighted to nab a shoplifter. Only now she imagined him stalking her around the mall all night, taking notes on her argument with Brenden and Misty. Writing it all up, just to scare her with it later. And he must be somewhere in back even now, furiously typing her latest actions into a computer and feeding it into this machine as she read it. She backed off from the display. The air seemed twenty degrees colder. Goosebumps and cold sweat covered her body. She raised one shivering arm and leaned it toward the bright yellow kiosk, keeping most of her body away, as if feeding a crocodile. She punched the "next page" arrow and recoiled. And then Parker saw the man who was stalking her, she read. Someone chuckled off to her side. A deep, gritty, male voice. She turned her head. And then Parker saw the man who was stalking her. She could just see his outline under the dim red glow of the EXIT sign. He wore a tattered kind of old-timey black hat with a round brim, his face hidden in the shadows beneath it. He had some kind of heavy dark coat with the collar turned up around his face. His deep, gritty voice chuckled again. At least if it were some old perv store manager, she might have a chance. She could just knee him in the balls. But whoever stood in that red glow seemed a lot more dangerous than the puffy baldster she'd imagined. If she whacked this guy's balls, it might not even hurt him. He might even like it. When he spoke, his voice sounded like pebbled sand grinding between brass gears. "She ran away from him, screaming," he said. She ran away from him, screaming. Parker launched herself toward the mesh gate, feeling the broken glass hack up her thin sandals and slash her feet. She pounded with both hands on the gate, screaming for help. Her voice echoed through the air-conditioned canyon of the mall. But it was after eleven, and all the shoppers had gone home. When the echoes of her screams died, Parker turned back around. Her toes and arches stung from the broken glass. The man wasn't under the red EXIT sign anymore. It was just the dark rectangle of the door underneath the sign, which was now the only way out. She heard him chuckle somewhere on her left, close enough she could smell his sour, earthy breath. She screamed and ran in the opposite direction, back down the horror aisle from which she'd emerged. Parker raced through the horror aisle and out the other end, where he caught her in his arms. His coat sleeves were rough against her face, scraping and smothering her. His hand felt cold and greasy on her arm, his nails sharp. He smelled like moldy earth, leather and smoke. He laughed. Parker screamed and twisted away from him. She ran back up the aisle. Her hands scrabbled along the rows of paper and cardboard, looking for any kind of weapon. She grabbed up a metal bookend decorated with bats. She arranged it in her hands so that she could swing out the protruding metal tongue, the part that usually slid underneath the books to hold them in place. She stopped midway up the aisle. He wasn't chasing her. He'd slipped off somewhere, probably around to catch her at the other end. They could do it all night, back and forth, around and around the aisles, until she dropped from exhaustion. She looked up and down the aisle, but she couldn't see anything in the darkness. There was a dull red tinge in the direction of the exit sign. She needed to get there. Through the door would be the store's office, and then those mysterious back corridors of the mall, which you only glimpsed when you went to use the bathroom off the food court. She'd find an outdoor emergency exit there, hopefully. But he would know that, and he was probably lying in wait for her to run toward the door. Maybe he'd even rigged it somehow, like he rigged the light to explode over her head. She heard the thumps of falling books at one end of the aisle, somewhere ahead of her. Then the same sound at the other end of the aisle, behind her. She backed up flat against the bookshelves and raised the bookend, which seemed like a pitiful weapon against some psycho killer like this guy. "What do you want from me?" she screamed. She looked from side to side, trying to keep an eye on both ends of the aisle. Something bumped against her back, and then a cascade of hardcovers spilled out by her left hip. A greasy hand with sharp nails fingered her lower back. She gasped and tried to jump away. The hand seized the back of her wide black belt and held her in place while she struggled. She could feel the stolen paperback pushing up into her guts, and pushing her guts into her lungs. "I want to watch you face a life or death struggle," his gritty voice said behind her. "I want you to do things that leave you broken and bloody. And then I want to see how it all ends." He jerked back on her belt, lifting her from her feet, drawing her backwards through the bookcase. The stolen paperback jabbed deep into her lungs. Parker hissed. She swung the bookend behind her, hacking at his hand with the thin metal piece. His grip relaxed for a second, and she pulled free. She stumbled across the aisle and bashed her face into a bookshelf, splitting her lip. She spun around, raising the bookend high, ready to bust his face open when he came crawling through the bookshelf. She saw the empty shelf where he'd knocked all of the books aside. She could see a little of the next aisle through it, lit by the dim red glow. He wasn't there anymore. There was a long, low creak, and then the bookshelf tilted toward her. Fat Stephen King novels pelted her. A hardback of The Dark Half hit her over the head. He was pushing the entire row of bookcases down on top of her. Parker bolted towards one end of the aisle, not bothering to check which direction she was running. She ducked as she heard the falling bookshelf clang into the next, which clanged into the next, the bookshelves falling like dominoes. All the books fell, hammering her head and back and arms. She cried out-it was like being punched all over, from her neck to her kidneys. They pounded her face first into the floor. Behind her, the end wall of the horror shelf landed across her feet, shattering her ankles. Her scream echoed through the deserted shopping mall. Her body wanted to black out from the pain, but she struggled against it. He was still hunting her. She tried to pull herself forward, but her feet were pinned, and all she managed to do was stretch the broken bones and crushed tendons at her ankles. She cried out again, and her teeth snapped together. "What will she do next?" the gritty voice asked. Footsteps clomped toward her in the dark. "Will she find some way out?" His sooty boots stopped in front of her face. She could smell the sour mud caked on them. He squatted down to look at her. In the dim red gloom, most of his face was hidden under the shadow of his hat. She could just see his stubbled chin and his lips, which were stained with black speckles. He smiled. Letters and numbers were stamped on his crooked teeth. A "d," "n," and "g" were printed in black on three of his upper teeth. A "6," "1" and "8" were stamped on three of his lower. She thought the numbers continued onto his lower lip, but she couldn't see much more. Parker couldn't make any sense of the black letters and numbers on his teeth. She couldn't think at all, with the waves of pain radiating from her broken ankles. "Are you the hero of the story?" he asked. "Or just a nameless victim, cut down to prime the pump?" "Please," Parker whispered. "Please." He raised a rectangular object into the dim red light of the EXIT sign. It glinted like metal. She thought she could see a jumble of numbers and letters arrayed on the edge, but it made no sense to her. "Or maybe this is the end," he said. "And, for you, it's all epilogue from here." Then he swung it down and bashed her across the face, splintering her skull. He struck her again, breaking her jaw in half. He pounded her head again and again, until her head was a pulpy red smear across the dirty tile floor- "Eww!" Dee said. She tossed the Kindle on the floor. "That was disgusting, Skitter!" Skitter was still snoring in his chair. "That's why I don't read those kinds of books." Dee walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of iced tea. She was shaking. It was after eleven, and she was still alone. Now all she could think of was a man in a tattered black hat, brim pulled low over his eyes- She heard crunching in the driveway outside. She ran to the bathroom and peered out through the blinds. A shadow approached her apartment building from the street. He was walking towards her stairway. In her building, there were two apartments upstairs, each with its own staircase and rusty balcony. Nobody lived below her. The shadow walked out of her line of sight, towards her stairs. She glanced around her bathroom, seeing only snowglobes and a wicker basket of decorative soap. Nothing you could use for a weapon. She didn't want to be caught with nothing but a bookend like some idiot. Her doorknob rattled. Dee ran to the kitchen and took the big butcher knife from the chopping block. She watched the doorknob turn. It wasn't a psycho in a dark hat, but her boyfriend Justin, home from "work" at last. ... continued ... Want to continue reading? 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