AFTERTHOUGHTS (71)
PIMP MY BOOK (9)
CRAVING
The following is an excerpt from the Penumbra horror/dark fantasy novella, Craving, written by yours truly, and published by Visual Print Enterprises.
The sun was just beginning to set, and Anne was on her way back to the house from her daily walk along the beach. Every other day of the week, Lester accompanied her, but today was Thursday, and Thursday was Clean-Up Day, so she went solo on Thursdays, careful to pack her cell phone in her canvas tote bag, in case of…
Well… just in case.
Anne sighed. She was so grateful for Lester, for his patience, his understanding. As difficult as this and the past two pregnancies had been for her, Anne knew it was doubly hard for her husband, who had no choice but to simply be there, by her side, unable to carry the whole burden on his shoulders.
Which she knew he would, without a doubt, without a moment’s hesitation, if he only could. But this was her burden, by virtue of gender and biology, this was hers, and she felt blessed to have Lester there, always, strengthening her resolve by his mere presence.
Anne smiled, a small, tender smile, as she walked along the dirt road leading up to the Doctora’s house, walked in the Daisy Duckzilla walk, as Lester had dubbed it. Anne had perfected a shuffling, shambling lope that was slow and awkward, but got her to where she wanted to go, safe, and in one piece.
“And that’s what it’s all about these days, huh, Junior?” she cooed, rubbing her stomach through the thin summer blouse she wore.
Dimly, she heard something.
She stopped, frowning.
There, off in the depths of the waist-high talahib to the side of the dirt road.
What sounded like a cat… yowling…
No. Not a cat. Not yowling.
Wailing. Crying.
“Oh, my God,” Anne whispered.
It’s a baby, she thought. It’s a baby that’s been abandoned, and it’s hungry and thirsty and how am I supposed to reach it? There could be snakes in there, and, oh! Snakes! And that poor baby! Lester!
And she began to dig through her bag, frantically. Then she noticed the crying getting louder, closer to her.
Frozen, she watched as the stalks of grass bent, and now, there was the sound of brittle snapping, and something (something?) crawled through the talahib, towards her, the crying definitely louder now, more insistent.
Anne backed away, slowly, her eyes transfixed, watching the swaying, the bending and snapping, marking the path, the trajectory.
And then the crying stopped. No winding down, no softening. Just a clean, dead stop.
But the grass was still being disturbed, upset by the movement, the resolute crawl of whatever it was.
Anne resumed the Daisy Duckzilla walk, a little faster now, pulling the cell out of her tote bag, the sound of crunching, snapping blades of grass deafening to her.
As she flipped her cell phone open, the giggling began, a high-pitched, lunatic sound.
She didn’t look back, didn’t wish or want to, she just kept walking, walking, her eye on the mango tree, which was yelling distance from the house, whispering the “Hail Mary” beneath her breath.
And though the giggling continued, an awful, manic noise, the sound of movement through the grass stopped, and Anne imagined blades of grass being pulled apart, eyes watching her, boring into her back.
But she still didn’t look back. She just walked, tote bag in one hand, cell phone in the other (in a skeletal, white-knuckled grip), leaving the giggling behind her, the “Hail Mary” still on her lips.
“… and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus…”
And the giggling just went on, and on, and on…
If the above tidbit has suitably intrigued you, Craving is available in bookstores. (And if you don’t see it on the shelves, ask for it, please.)
Or, if you’re so inclined, you can drop by Kolektib (Shop 33 in the Cubao Expo) this Saturday, May 24, 2008, and attend “9 in 1: Kolektib Intelidyens,” where I will be among the menagerie of wild writers and artists the good people of Visual Print Enterprises will gather for your awe and amusement.
Craving (and lots of other goodies) will be available there.
It’s from 3pm to 6pm, this Saturday; see Afterthoughts (67) for more details.
Hope to see all you fine folk there!
(Craving art and jacket design by Carl Vergara.)
PIMP MY BOOK (9)
CRAVING
The following is an excerpt from the Penumbra horror/dark fantasy novella, Craving, written by yours truly, and published by Visual Print Enterprises.
The sun was just beginning to set, and Anne was on her way back to the house from her daily walk along the beach. Every other day of the week, Lester accompanied her, but today was Thursday, and Thursday was Clean-Up Day, so she went solo on Thursdays, careful to pack her cell phone in her canvas tote bag, in case of…
Well… just in case.
Anne sighed. She was so grateful for Lester, for his patience, his understanding. As difficult as this and the past two pregnancies had been for her, Anne knew it was doubly hard for her husband, who had no choice but to simply be there, by her side, unable to carry the whole burden on his shoulders.
Which she knew he would, without a doubt, without a moment’s hesitation, if he only could. But this was her burden, by virtue of gender and biology, this was hers, and she felt blessed to have Lester there, always, strengthening her resolve by his mere presence.
Anne smiled, a small, tender smile, as she walked along the dirt road leading up to the Doctora’s house, walked in the Daisy Duckzilla walk, as Lester had dubbed it. Anne had perfected a shuffling, shambling lope that was slow and awkward, but got her to where she wanted to go, safe, and in one piece.
“And that’s what it’s all about these days, huh, Junior?” she cooed, rubbing her stomach through the thin summer blouse she wore.
Dimly, she heard something.
She stopped, frowning.
There, off in the depths of the waist-high talahib to the side of the dirt road.
What sounded like a cat… yowling…
No. Not a cat. Not yowling.
Wailing. Crying.
“Oh, my God,” Anne whispered.
It’s a baby, she thought. It’s a baby that’s been abandoned, and it’s hungry and thirsty and how am I supposed to reach it? There could be snakes in there, and, oh! Snakes! And that poor baby! Lester!
And she began to dig through her bag, frantically. Then she noticed the crying getting louder, closer to her.
Frozen, she watched as the stalks of grass bent, and now, there was the sound of brittle snapping, and something (something?) crawled through the talahib, towards her, the crying definitely louder now, more insistent.
Anne backed away, slowly, her eyes transfixed, watching the swaying, the bending and snapping, marking the path, the trajectory.
And then the crying stopped. No winding down, no softening. Just a clean, dead stop.
But the grass was still being disturbed, upset by the movement, the resolute crawl of whatever it was.
Anne resumed the Daisy Duckzilla walk, a little faster now, pulling the cell out of her tote bag, the sound of crunching, snapping blades of grass deafening to her.
As she flipped her cell phone open, the giggling began, a high-pitched, lunatic sound.
She didn’t look back, didn’t wish or want to, she just kept walking, walking, her eye on the mango tree, which was yelling distance from the house, whispering the “Hail Mary” beneath her breath.
And though the giggling continued, an awful, manic noise, the sound of movement through the grass stopped, and Anne imagined blades of grass being pulled apart, eyes watching her, boring into her back.
But she still didn’t look back. She just walked, tote bag in one hand, cell phone in the other (in a skeletal, white-knuckled grip), leaving the giggling behind her, the “Hail Mary” still on her lips.
“… and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus…”
And the giggling just went on, and on, and on…
If the above tidbit has suitably intrigued you, Craving is available in bookstores. (And if you don’t see it on the shelves, ask for it, please.)
Or, if you’re so inclined, you can drop by Kolektib (Shop 33 in the Cubao Expo) this Saturday, May 24, 2008, and attend “9 in 1: Kolektib Intelidyens,” where I will be among the menagerie of wild writers and artists the good people of Visual Print Enterprises will gather for your awe and amusement.
Craving (and lots of other goodies) will be available there.
It’s from 3pm to 6pm, this Saturday; see Afterthoughts (67) for more details.
Hope to see all you fine folk there!
(Craving art and jacket design by Carl Vergara.)
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