The Horror in Smithville - The 'Missing' Chapters!

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[caption id="attachment_3239" align="aligncenter" width="300"] The Horror in Smithville[/caption]

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Welcome back My Dear Readers to The Other Shoe. Today is Thursday July the 17^th 2014. Until recently Thursday was the day that I published my newest project, a venture into the horror genre, 'The Horror in Smithville'. However, a few weeks ago I received a comment suggesting that I was 'missing a great market opportunity... put it on Friday... fresh in their minds for weekend reading'. I took this advice and moved the publication of 'The Horror in Smithville' over to Friday. Sure enough, my friend was correct. More and more people, appeared, to read and 'Like' this venture into horror when I published it on Friday. 

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Now today I am not breaking with that publication schedule, but I am shaking things up a little. Today I am going to publish... a missing chapter of 'The Horror in Smithville'. Missing in that when I, originally, wrote parts two and three I had not yet imagined just how I was going to create the conflict I needed. Since that time I have figured out just how to create the desired effect in my story. That has resulted in me writing two (or more) chapters that, actually, come earlier than we currently find ourselves   !

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That means that what I have written, and published, below actually happened between Part Two and Part Three. Hence, the chapter designation Part 2B! Previously I did not have a large role for Archer's father to play, in this story. However, certain... elements of the novel have come to light and I have changed my designs on Ralph Simner. Ralph Simner is father to Archer Simner and husband to Becky Simner.

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As I indicated earlier, when I first started out with this novel Ralph did not have a large role to play. I explained that he was here, that he was Archer's father, and husband to Becky. Beyond that... well, My Dear Readers, he did not play any role in any plot line, nor was he party to any other character's development. THAT changed today! I am not going to tell you just how this has changed, nor will I explain why it is I feel it important to add a whole day to the publication schedule of 'The Horror in Smithville'. However, as anyone can likely figure out, the role that Ralph does play (now) is important enough that I backtrack and include these chapters before we get too far in out story.

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This whole experience reminds of me a line from a play I just loved performing. The name is 'The Zoo Story' by Edward Albee. The line goes like this; “Sometimes you have to go a very long distance out of your way, in order to come back a short distance... correctly!” THAT, My Dear Readers, is exactly what you and I are going to do, today. We are going to do engage in this... long distance out of our way, in order to come back a short distance... CORRECTLY for the next two to three weeks.

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Today we are going to get some back-storyabout Ralph. Look in on a very intense, and life changing, conversation between Ralph and Becky prior to Archer's birth, and then we are going to take a little trip up to our current time in the story. Next week we are going to get some more information and character development for Ralph, and bring him up to about Chapter eight or nine in our story line. The (should be) final 'Thursday Special Episode' will be published on July 31^st, 2014. After that we (should) be finished going back and forth in time for the sake of Ralph... and the (much) larger role he has to play in our story.

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Now, My Dear Readers, when at first I started this... experiment in 'Real-Time Publication' I did warn that there would be... events, like this one. That, maybe... occasionally, we would have to go back and pick-up people or characters that I/we missed on our first pass. For me, as a writer and publisher, this is really kind of different! Here I am plugging along with my story line and characters... when suddenly I realize that I have totally missed out on a possible character development opportunity and and opportunity to develop... redraw familial lines! In the process I get to 'bring to life' a character that, previously, was little more that set decoration!

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Now, My Dear Readers, (and I have given a lot fo thought about just how this would be for you) this gives you a very unique opportunity to 'see' behind the curtain. To witness the inner workings of a writer's mind. You get to 'see' why a certain character is moved from... furniture status, to a whole filled out character with emotions, a role to play and a life lead... and (perhaps) ended. You get to actually 'see' just how I have changed the interpersonal dynamics of my characters and altered the landscape for all concerned!

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Truthfully? I have never seen anything like this before in all the reading and all the books and all the magazines I have read in my entire life! This is such a wonderful and unique opportunity for you, My Dear Readers! This is something that, if you lived to be two hundred, I sincerely doubt you will ever experience this kind of literary event, again. You see... I do really treasure you, My Dear Readers!

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So, without further adieu I give, to you, Ralph Simner!

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Part Two B

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Ralph Simner had been born to be a coal miner, like his father before him and his father before that, for more than four generations. Ralph and began working in the mines at the age of 17. Before that Ralph had worked for the mining company; cleaning, sharpening tools, taking out garbage, and any other odd job the mining company could find for him. For the past hundred years mining ran through the veins of the Simner men as thick as this so it did in their lungs. It struck Ralph as one of the heart coincidences of life that only weeks after Becky told him she was pregnant the mine, in town, started shutting down.

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With a boy on the way, and is only means of income going the way, Ralph Simner was a man lost in a world that was changing. Even before Ralph received his last check from the mind he started looking for new work all around town. The problem with that was 1000 other men were doing the same thing in that town of less than 3000 people. It was a scant month before Becky came to Ralph with a question.

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“Ralph, hun, how would you feel about raising the hour little boy in Smithville?”

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Now Smithville was all too familiar with Ralph Simner. Smithville was home to Linda, his wife Becky’s aunt. Smithville was also, for Ralph Simner, a sign of failure. Failure that Ralph Simner would be unable to raise his son, Archer, in the same town he had been raised, his father had been raised, his grandfather and been raised, and his great-grandfather had grown up. Ralph Simner is not only a hard-working man Ralph Simner was a very proud man.

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“Becky what would I do for a living, if we were to move to Smithville and I’m not saying I’m ready to up and move my family out of Tennessee!”

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Becky was prepared for this, she had given a great deal of thought to this conversation and it spoken extensively Linda on the phone about the opportunities that would await them in Smithville. Oh but, My Dear Readers, thinking about a thing and screwing up the courage to do it are two entirely different monsters. Becky took a deep breath, looked her husband Ralph straight in the eyes, and went about explaining to Ralph what is new life in Smithville would entail.

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“Well, Ralph, I glad that you asked because Linda and I have put a lot of thought into us moving, First, I want you to know that we would not be living with Linda for very long… if at all. She says that the Elementary school is looking for a new English teacher! I have already put together my resume and, if you are willing, ready to send it to Linda to forward to the school district. Linda has already found us a really nice place to move in to, it is an old farmhouse! It is in very good repair, the family that lived there had to sell the farm to one of those big corporate farms, but the house is set up as a rental, now.

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The house right next door, to the farmhouse we could rent, the people right next door? Well, they are farmers... the Marref’s I think Linda said; anyway Linda told me that the mother… well she is pregnant, too! Linda told me she believes that she is ‘due’ about the same time our little Archer, sometime in November. Ralph? Little Archer would have a boy his age right next door! Someone to go to school with… someone to play and get in trouble with… someone to be Best Friends with, and Linda says that this family are good people. The Marref’s have been farming that same plot of land for the past hundred years!”

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Right then Ralph interjects, despondently;

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“A hundred years, Becky? Like the hundred years that the Simner’s mined coal right here in Tennessee?”

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Ralph’s words but to the quick, but Becky did not flinch did not show just how much his words hurt. Without missing a best Becky started up, right where she left off.

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“Archer would have a boy, right at his age, to go through all the grades with, study with, have sleepovers with… and… Ralph? Ralph, I could be their English teacher, at least during the first four to five years of their schooling! Ralph? Ralph it is a good town, a farming town just as American as this town… always was to you and to your family. But.. Ralph? The mine, Ralph. The mine is dead, Ralph, and it ain’t coming back! Ralph, there are over a thousand good hard working men, right here in town, fighting over… well, less than a hundred jobs, Ralph. Things are bad, now. But, Ralph, they could get so much worse… if we stay. Now, Ralph, I told you that Linda had a job… for you… Ralph.”

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Right then, at that moment, Ralph had a huge chill go right down his spine. ‘Got a goose walk’n on your grave?’ Is what Ralph’s grandmother would ask, when he would get just such a chill. It was March and not at all cold, outside. There was no chilling air, but the chill Ralph felt was as real and bone-chilling as any he had ever felt. Ralph shook his head, and refocused his attention on what Becky was saying.

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“Ralph, I told you that Linda had found work for you. Ralph, it is work that will make it so that you see your son Archer… every day. All day! You can keep an eye on him, him and the Marref boy, too! You will have the unique opportunity, unlike any other parents, to watch your son grow up… first hand!”

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Ralph noticed two things; first Becky was ‘sellin’ this hard and second Becky was using her other words… like “unique opportunity”. Reminded Ralph of a used car salesmen, or those modern-day grifters that came on the television late at night to steal your hard-earned money. Ralph had even heard was Becky was about to say, and he already knew he wasn’t going to like it, not going to like it at all!

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“Ralph? Ralph Linda tells me that they are in dire need for a janitor… a maintenance and cleaning technician over to the elementary school! Ralph, didn’t you used to clean up and do repairs for the mine, before you started going down into the mine… right? Linda and I have talked and talked, and we think me working in the elementary as an English teacher and you working doing repairs and clean-up… well we think it would give us a unique opportunity to watch our son grow-up! We would have opportunities that other parents would envy! Ralph, this is an opportunity of a lifetime!”

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Ralph swore, quietly in his mind, that if Becky said, “opportunity’ or “unique opportunity” just one more time, he would go stark raving mad. Buurrrr… There was that terrible, bone-deep, chill running through his body. Ralph wasn’t sure if he just went ahead and told Becky “OK” because of all the plotting and planning she had already done… or because he wanted to end the conversation in hopes that when it did end, the chill would go away! Either way…

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“Becky? It is pretty clear that you and your Aunt Linda have given this a great deal of thought. That you have worked, together, to plan this out the best the two of you… could. Becky? I would rather die than leave this town! Somehow… I feel like… if I leave this town… I will… die! But… I’ve made a decision. Becky? Becky get on the phone to your Aunt Linda… and tell your Aunt Linda… we’re moving to Smithville!”

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Just as soon as Ralph had said the name of the town, Ralph fell to his knees. Ralph grabbed himself around his stomach, and started chocking! He couldn’t seem to stop! His whole body lay, on the cold hard linoleum, wracked with chills and chocking! Chocking on some unknown something in his throat! Ralph about blacked out, when Becky came over and picked him up off the floor and held him cradling him in her arms. Ralph’s body was wracked with bone deep chills… his throat felt like something was tearing at it from the inside… and his insides…. His stomach and guts hurt something fierce!

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Ralph lay there, in his wife’s embrace, for several minutes. Then, it all just passed as quickly as it came, Ralph was back to normal. Ralph got up, off the floor, and got himself a glass of tap water. He drank it and thought. Ralph thought about what had just happened. Ralph thought about the fact he had just decided to leave the only place he had ever known, ever felt safe. For a town, and a life, he knew nothing… absolutely nothing about, and Ralph wondered (if for just a minute) if he hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of his adult life.

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Only time would tell, Ralph thought quietly to himself, only time would tell. The very next day Ralph Simner began packing up everything he had ever known into boxes. Then the boxes went into a trailer, they had rented for the move. Everything that Ralph ever knew was going into boxes. Boxes that would be unpacked in a town named Smithville. Smithville would, later, be the town his son was born to. The town where he would raise his son, and watch him grow.

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Yet, every day Ralph spent in Smithville? Every day Ralph spent in Smithville he would get those very same chills. That was until the day he got the phone call. The phone call to come and “make some real CASH!” Some real cash working to help set-up the Carnival and the Haunted House ride for the Harvest Festival! For some odd reason, Ralph Simner did not feel that chill on that day. Not that day or any of the others that we worked out to the Carnival, and not at the school.

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Well, My Dear Readers, that is Ralph Simner so far. Like I said this is just the very first chapter with Ralph playing a larger role. One of, what looks to be, three additionalchapters that I did not have originally planned. Now, what this means to you, My Dear Readers, is that for the next three weeks (including this week) you will be getting a 'Double-Dose' of 'The Horror in Smithville'! Each week you will see, right here, a Thursday edition of 'The Horror in Smithville' that is just about Ralph Simner and the role that I have given him. Then, on Friday you will get the regular weekly chapter of this fine venture into the horror genre.

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The Thursdaychapters will be out of cadence, chronological order, with the Friday chapters. Meaning, that on Friday the story is going along just as it has for the past thirteen weeks. However, each and every Thursday we will be going... backward to pick up the adventures of Ralph Simner. Each Thursday I will let you know just when we are by placing, at the top of the page, a heading. Like, this week, I placed the heading 'Part Two B'. That means that today's special chapter comes after Part Two and before Part Three in our regular story line. As we move on, from here, we will get closer and closer to our real time of the story as it unfolds.

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I really cannot explain it more than that without risking giving away certain... happenings that are essential to Ralph's part to play... and the story line as a whole. Now, My Dear Readers, I thought long and hard about making this addition to the story. I really considered if this would throw people off, if it would be too much of a venture from the 'norm' of story writing. Then, I thought about you, My Dear Readers! Over the past four years you have shown yourselves to be an exceptional group of readers and I felt confident that you would (not only) weather these changes but that you, My Dear Readers, would enjoy the real and special opportunity represented by this extra-special content and character addition.

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That you will all enjoy the unique quality of this opportunity and that it is likely that you will go out into the Real World and tell; friends, family members, co-workers and others about the really special literary event that you are taking part! That you will be so excited that you will be anxious to read the special chapters, on Thursday, and that you will make sure to remind all those you have let into our special literary world. You, My Dear Readers, are a very special breed of reader.

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I hope that you have enjoyed this special Thursday Edition of 'The Horror in Smithville'! Hope that you have enjoyed meeting Ralph Simner, Archer's father. Also, I look forward to seeing you all right here, tomorrow, for another great chapter in the story.. the lives of... the event that is 'The Horror in Smithville! Until then... 

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Adieu!

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Thank YOU!

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[youtube=http://youtu.be/n165a1MCVNs?list=UUnoM3lW9vmuWOLG1c8he52g]

'The Horror in Smithville' Logo with Music!

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[caption id="attachment_2866" align="aligncenter" width="630"] Danny Hanning of The Other Shoe - May 6th, 2014[/caption]

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The Horror in Smithville - Part Thirteen

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[caption id="attachment_2489" align="aligncenter" width="500"] The Horror in Smithville[/caption]

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Welcome back My Dear Readers to The Other Shoe. This, too, is a big heartfelt welcome to the 13^th episode of my horror story ‘The Horror in Smithville’. Today, I present to you the single most graphic and… intense episode of this story, to date. Whereas, I usually write a bit of an introduction this time I will be brief. It is 5:50 AM Saturday June 21^st, 2014. I have not slept, since Wednesday night. I am having some real problems getting any sleep. As well, whenever I eat? I have problems with the food staying down.

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So, tonight, instead of sleeping? I sat down a wrote… the single most terrifying… graphic and intense bit of writing I have ever put to paper in my entire life. While writing this bit (as it usually happens with me) I have envisioned the major events of the next three to four episodes. My Dear Readers, this chapter is not the high point. No, rather, after this episode passes, in episode 14, even more death and destruction is joined.

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This is just the way it is happening, My Dear Readers, just the way it unfolds in my head. Honestly, I am as surprised by what I write as you are surprised by what you read. I will not give away any teasers, that is just not how I roll. I will say this.

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If you find this episode too disturbing, too violent, too bloody or what-not? Then, what is to come will, most certainly, curl your blood. While writing this (prose? Did you hear this episode? Could you feel the beat under the words?), I got a glimpse of many of the chapters to come. This. My first venture into the genre of horror, is going to be far more horrific than I first imagined.

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For anyone that is bothered by this, I apologize. However, once written the hand moves on, never going backwards. I do hope that everyone DOES READ THIS episode. It really is some of the best writing I have done in… decades!

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ENJOY!
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Part Thirteen

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Barry appeared to loose interest in pounding his fists into Timmy’s face, rather quickly, when he suddenly proclaimed.

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“What am I doing? I wanted to see this gaywad’s head bounce on this here concrete!”

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As if taking a command from some inner ‘lizard’ part of his brain (buried deep under years of; torment, humiliation and abuse) Barry stopped pounding the daylights out of Timmy’s face. Only to grab Timmy by the ears… and proceed to (as he eloquently stated, just moments before) to bounce Timmy’s head against this here concrete. Gripped in horror, shock and fear Archer stood (limply) by and watched as his best friend in the world’s head bounced, time and again, against the cold hard concrete. Not that anyone was noticing, but the snow hard began to fall; harder and faster with every passing moment.

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“Awww, YEAH!!! Gaywad’s little fat head… it bounces GOOD!”

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Time and time again, with all the force Barry could muster, Timmy’s twelve year old head, was thrown against the cold hard concrete. With each downward thrust, his head bounced right back up. Still grabbing him, by the ears, Barry would thrust Timmy’s head against the cold hard concrete below. The first couple of times, it did not make much noise. However, by the third or fourth… bounce, you could hear the crack of cranial bone and the soft sound of his blood-matted hair sticking to, then being pulled up from the pooled blood. The combination of cracking bone, and sloppy sound blood-matted hair adhering to, then being pulled away from, the now pool of Timmy’s blood forming under his head… was enough to make any grown man vomit.

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“Bounceity, bounceity, bounce, bounce bounce! You ain’t so smart now, are you Gaywad!?!”

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From Timmy’s point of view, this had all happened so fast he was not really sure it was happening… at all. All Timmy knew was that everything around him…. Was bouncing, like a ball. It would stop, for a second, and then it would bounce, again, really really hard. He felt sharp pain, in the back of his head. Like a thousand and one nails being driven into the back of his head… all at once! Timmy was having problems focusing his view. For a moment he could see Barry’s smiling imbecilic face, and then it would turn into a blurred view. Clear, so clear he could see that Barry was so enjoying something that it was making him drool!

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Long strings of his salvia, drooled down onto his face. Timmy was not bothered by that, nearly as much as the growing darkness… and cold. Timmy couldn’t figure out which bothered him more, the thousand and one nails being driven into his skull? Or the cold, wet, disgusting drool that was dribbling all over his face. It didn’t really matter, Timmy could now tell. The darkness and the cold would soon take him away. As if in a tunnel, Timmy’s vision did grow smaller… and smaller. Frantic voices he heard... was that Archer he heard screaming? He hoped he was all right!

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When, no longer could Timmy keep his focus, anymore. Just as Timmy noticed the snow falling from the sky, everything around him went gray…. Then black. Under Timmy’s head a large pool of warm blood had formed. The blood looked ever darker, darker than anyone could have imagined, as it formed there surrounded by the white falling snow. Directly under Timmy’s head, the blood was dark as crimson. As the blood feathered out into the freshly fallen white snow, it faded in color. At the very edges of the pool of blood the snow turned a bright pink, almost festive in its color and design. Almost.

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Archer stood just a few scarce feet from Timmy and Barry, with tears forming in his eyes, shock and fear painted over every inch of his face. As Archer’s tears feel to the ground, they dropped, as if in cadence, with blood coming out of Timmy’s ears. Children, teachers, bus drivers all stood in the now heavily falling snow. Transfixed with horror, and with fear, they stood and watched as Barry extracted his brutal revenge. Some crying, some screaming in fear and handful had fallen to their knees either praying or throwing up their recently eaten lunches.

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Many of the teachers had moved to the very front of the crowd, almost like they had initially felt a responsibility to act. Only to, either, be transfixed by their fear of what they bore witness. Some, halted in their advance to help by their own gnawing fear that Barry night well do the same to them, too. Either way, nobody was moving stop Barry or come to Timmy’s rescue. There must have been more than thirty; teachers, students and bus drivers all gathered just a few scant feet away from Timmy’s, now, deformed head.

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That was what shocked Truman the most, as he approached the back of the gymnasium to start his daily chore of ‘Bus Monitor’. He had, admittedly, been late to arrive for his duties, today. He had been called to the Principal’s office shortly after the last bell. Principal Marsch had been called to the Carnival job site, and Roger wanted Truman to ‘take over’ while he was off campus. He had taken a few moments to talk with Betty Sue, an action that he now would regret for the ret of his life. It was just that Betty Sue was so needy! With Principal Marsch off campus Betty Sue demanded that she confirm Truman’s cell number, home telephone number, and assure her that “If I call you will answer, right Truman?” The moments he had spent giving assurances to Betty Sue, could well have been better spent saving Timmy Marref’s life.

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Truman knew something was very wrong when he had come around the corner of the English building. He had a clear line of sight to the buses, and the bleachers behind the gym. He could not make out who, but somebody was sitting on someone’s chest… was the larger boy bouncing the head of the other… into the concrete? Truman’s steps now turned into a slight run. With every passing moment, and every foot decreased between him and the ‘fallen child’ he could make out more and more of the scene ahead of him. When Truman was within thirty feet… he thought he was going to loose his lunch! Truman’s gallop now hastened to a fast run!

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Just as Truman was able to make out the face of Barry Gartuska, two things happened… nearly simultaneously. First, Truman heard a boy’s scream. Second, he saw Mr. Marref break into a run towards the two boys engaged in the fight. Truman thought ‘fight’ but even at the distance he was, he could clearly see there was no ‘fight’. Obviously, this was one (much larger) boy beating the punk out of another (smaller) boy. Truman was overcome with nausea… and anger! Red HOT anger! Truman rarely felt angry. He had worked very hard, over the past two decades, to overcome his anger(s). What he saw, that day in the snow, made Truman more angry than he had been… in decades. Truman did not know if he would make there ‘in time’ to save the beaten boy’s life, but he was certain he would make sure that the other boy paid for his… violent and bloody BEATING!

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Archer was gripped in fear… and then… there was the guilt. If he had come around the corner before Timmy… it would be him, Archer on the ground and not Timmy. If they had stopped by their lockers… put away books they would not need over the ‘Three-Day Weekend’… maybe… just maybe Barry would have grown bored and gone off to smoke a cigarette. Archer was not moving because he was very afraid of Barry. Archer was not moving… because… all that blood! The concrete was soaked in it… Timmy’s blood. There was so much BLOOD! It was matted in Timmy’s hair. It was pooled under Timmy’s head. It spread out, from the spot where Timmy’s head continually returned, right before it (again) bounced back up! The pool of blood must have been three feet in diameter.

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There was just so much BLOOD! It was mixing with the snow, now, with feathered edges it turned from deep crimson to brunt pink, and everything in between. Then, there was the sound. The dull crackling sound, that was made when Timmy’s head made contact with the cold hard concrete below. The dull crackling sound, that made Archer feel like he was going to throw up. The dull crackling sound that his friend Timmy’s head was making was so unnatural. The sound… the blood… the crying children… the crimson snow… Archer was not sure just how much more of this scene he could take, without going mad. Then, he head footsteps, behind him. Fast heavy footsteps, directly behind him. Was someone coming to make this madness stop?!?

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When Archer, not one more moment of this horror take, he screamed out at Barry, from a deep dark place.

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“Stop it… STOP ITTT!! You are KILLING him! You are KILLING my FRIEND!”

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These words would have moved a normal human to habituation if not halt. On Barry these words had the opposite effect. On the Barry, sitting on Timmy’s chest bouncing his head against the cold hard concrete, snow falling all around. ON Barry these words seemed to have the very opposite effect. Without halting, even for one second, his “bouncity, bounce, bounce, bounce” Barry turned his blood speckled and smiling face towards Archer, and said.

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“I got no bone to pick with you, Gaywad two. Just stay where you are… and I won’t have no need to see how your head will bounceity, bounceity, bounce, bounce, bounce on this here concrete!”

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Those words sent a chill, to their very bones, to everyone close enough to hear. On Archer… something inside did snap! Not one more moment could Archer stand idly by, and watch as life left his best’est friend. With blood now flowing from his ears and eyes. Archer gripped his finger into his hand… so hard into his hands, that curved holes formed and blood then dried. Archer’s fingers were gripped into bone tight fists of anger and rage! Archer knew, full well, that if he made a move on Barry… then, soon, it would be Archer on the cold hard concrete with blood flowing out of his eyes and ears. But, it would be worth it! Every moment Barry spent pounding Archer’s head into the cold hard concrete, was one moment less Timmy would be robbed of life. Archer was ready! Ready to put his life in jeopardy to save Timmy’s life.

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Truman was now close enough to smell the blood. At first, it made Truman’s stomach twist and turn. Then something else happened. It started out the way it always had before, an emptiness deep in the pit of his stomach… followed by a rising ire… an anger, red hot inside his head and his stomach. Truman knew this feeling all too well. He stopped, dead in his tracks, and remembered his mantra. ‘Turn away your anger… least your anger turn to hatred… then your hatred turns to actions. Actions out of hatred only lead to suffering. Only lead to the suffering of OTHERS!’ Truman said the (old and rote) mantra, and his blood cooled. Barry, little did he know, could ‘Thank’ Truman’s mantra for Barry ending up in the Principal’s office… alive! Not with his neck snapped in twain… which Truman’s hands were totally capable of doing. Truman opened his eyes, just in time to see a bluish blur…

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Just as Archer was about to take a running jump at the animal that Barry had become? A bluish blur came into view. From the very edge of his peripheral vision, to the left, came a large blue denim blur. The blur did not halt as it flashed over Barry, removing him from little Timmy’s chest. The blur did not stop there, but went on to the right some more. When the bluish blur finally came to a stop, Archer could clearly see… Mr. Marref sitting on Barry’s chest!

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From where he came, Archer did not know. What he saw was this: Mr. Marref had bolted over Timmy and grabbed Barry from off his chest. He was now sitting on Barry’s chest, the exactly the same way Barry, only moments ago, had sat on his son’s chest. Mr. Marref was a strapping man of six foot six. Sinewy in build, his arms were thin but with muscles as hard as steel. His muscles were not the bulky type, the kind for show. They were long and hard and thin, like those made from decades of long hard work.

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With his left hand Mr. Marref held Barry’s neck down to the cold hard ground, now becoming covered more and more with snow, all around. Mr. Marref’ right hand? Well, it was drawn far over his head. Drawn back like the firing arm of an old revolver gun. Held directly over Barry’s smiling face. Yes, Barry was still smiling… and, later, some claimed to hear him laughing, still! Mr. Marref’s arms had sinewy muscles that looked to be made of steel. The veins, in his arms, stood up high on his muscles, as if standing at attention awaiting a command. Right now, both arms and hands were cocked and ready to fire! Fire, directly into Barry’s smiling imbecilic, and hate filled, face. Mr. Marref did not move, not one centimeter. Now, if you had gone round… after the incident was all over… if you had gone around and asked all the people… all the boys and girls… all the teachers and drivers… If you had gone around and asked them all? ‘Would you have blamed Mr. Marref for splattering Barry’s head all over the cold hard concrete? Not one would have begrudged Mr. Marref. Not one would have said… “No”.

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Mr. Marref’s hands were large and hard from decade upon decade of back breaking work. His right hand was clinched so tight, the knuckles, they were all white. With his right hand held up that high, his right fist gripped like steel so tight. One could easily image… that it Mr. Marref… left go? His darn hand just might go straight through grinning Barry’s face.

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Mr. Marref was shaking, and quaking, while sitting on Barry’s chest. Barry looked, as if to speak (which would have been a big mistake), when a calm and strong baritone voice spoke.

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“Mr. Marref? Tom? Tom, your son… Your son, he needs you, RIGHT NOW! Mr. Marref… TOM! I know what you want to do… None of us here, would blame you one bit, too. You hold this boy’s life in the palm of your hand, Mr. Marref… Tom. Show him the mercy; he failed to show your son. Show all these people… all these children that you are the better man. Tom… lower your right arm. Get off this boy’s chest. Grab up your boy, and get him to help. THE help he so desperately needs. Tom… do this now, and I will make sure to the authorities this boy will go!”

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Right then, just seconds before Tom let go. A large, warm, strong hand Mr. Marref felt on his right shoulder. It was the hand of Mr. Dunahoo. All this time, it had been Mr. Dunahoo talking Mr. Marref… down. Now, with Truman’s hand gripped firmly on his shoulder, Mr. Marref… Tom found the strength to not do what Barry had done to his son. He lowered his right hand, to his side, and shook all over as if with great fright.

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Tom Marref looked up at Truman’s warm eyes. Tom stood up, over Barry’s laughing form. Mr. Marref turned to Truman and said.

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“Truman, I am trusting you to get this… boy to the Sheriff. Take him to the Principal’s office; there he can wait, till the Sheriff can take him into custody.”

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Truman nodded, that was all. With his left hand he patted Tom on his shoulder and spoke.

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“Tom… you best get your son to the hospital. With the coming storm, you will be able to get him there faster than waiting here for an ambulance. Now… Tom? I want you to look over at your son. I have your shoulder… and if need be you can grab my arm. Now… Tom? Look over at your son, Tom, but not for too long. Remember, you have to get him to the hospital, now, Tom… as fast as you can.”

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When Mr. Marref got up off of Barry’s chest, Archer stole a look over at his best friend lying stone cold still in the snow. The funniest thing happened, right then, something that would haunt Archer… for many years to come. When, at first, he did glance over at Timmy’s cold still form, he could have sworn he saw another man there, too! For just a moment… Archer could have sworn… he saw Mr. Champion, David, leaning over Timmy’s form. With both his hands he had Timmy’s head cupped, a golden glow! A golden glow that had engulfed them both! David’s face was obscured from view, his long blonde locks hung all over his face. It seemed like several moments, and then David did look up.

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Archer saw his kind hazel eyes look into Archer’s, then he spoke. Without making a sound, without moving his lips, Mr. Champion told Archer just one thing. “Do not worry, kind Archer, Timmy will be fine… just give him some time. Time and stand by him, give him your strength. For right now you best friend Timmy needs all the love he can get.”

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In Archer’s eye, a tear did form. He lowered his head, so no one would see, as he wiped the tear from his eye. Then he looked up! No longer was Mr. Champion, David, stooped over Timmy’s motionless form. No longer did his long blonde locks cradle Timmy’s still face. No longer did Archer see that warm and incredible golden glow. In just a matter of seconds, it all just vanished, as if it was never there, before.

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As Archer was getting to his feet, to go to Timmy’s side, he felt the large strong hand of Mr. Marref, rest gently on arm. Archer looked up, into Mr. Marref’s steel gray eyes. He thought, just for a moment, he saw a tear in his eye, too. Then it went away. Then, Mr. Marref spoke to Archer, for the first time since he arrived.

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“Archer, we need to get Timmy to the hospital. I need to beat this snowstorm. I might be abledo it alone, but I would like to have you help me… us. Will you do that for us, son?”

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Mr. Marref did not have to ask, twice. Archer looked directly into Mr. Marref’s eyes and simply said.

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“Whatever I can do, Mr. Marref, you can count on me, too!?

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With that, in silence, the father and best friend approached the still body of their friend and son. With father cradling the head, and friend lifting his feet, the father and friend team lifted Timmy into the backseat of the waiting truck. Mr. Marref grabbed some blankets from behind the back seat. Placing Timmy’s head in Archer’s lap, he wrapped the still form, that was his son, in blankets to ward off the coming cold. As Mr. Marref closed the door to the rear cab, snow began to fall harder, in great large cold flakes.

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The snow was now sticking everywhere it landed, on the truck, on his clothes, on the road. He had to move quickly, to get his son to safety, before this snow made the roads unsafe and impassable. With the utmost sense of urgency, Mr. Marref got behind the wheel. Never the kind of man to ‘displays of speed’ today Mr. Marref saw just what his truck… could do. He turned the key in the ignition, as the engine burst into life. His foot, now lead on the peddle, pressed down.

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The rear wheels, of his truck, burned and , as if calling out in terrible pain and grief. As they did, they created great white and gray clouds of smoke. These clouds of smoke did billow and form. Form up along and on the two sides of the bed of the truck. Great plumes of white and gray smoke, billowing out larger and larger, taking shape and form. They did form like wings. Like wings on a great Pegasus, the clouds of smoke did form, and away did they take. A man. A boy. A son.

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End Part Thirteen

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Yeah… That is what I was talking about. Honestly. My Dear Readers, while I was writing this episode… and when I went to correct this episode. I cried! Tears just kept coming down my cheeks.

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As well, I really did know that I had this inside me. I had no idea that I had the ability to create the images, and emotions, that I conjure up in this episode. I do not know if I can repeat this… I am in extreme pain, in my neck it is like a 15 out of 10. I haven’t really slept, for more than an hour at a time, for more than two days. I haven’t eaten, and held it down, in a couple of days. I have golf balls under my arm pits, and a headache that would blind and elephant, for going on ten days.

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My Dear Readers, it is what it is. I found it to be moving, touching, violent and disturbing. EVERYTHING that I wanted it to be, and everything that one would want from this type of horror story. I hope that people enjoy this work, and can see past the extreme violence to see the friendship, kinship, love and… the magic that is all woven into this episode.

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Till next week! ENJOY and I hope to see you right back here, soon!

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Adieu!
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Thank YOU!

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The Horror in Smithville - Part TWELVE!

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[caption id="attachment_2489" align="aligncenter" width="500"] The Horror in Smithville[/caption]

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Welcome back My Dear Readers to The Other Shoe. As well, a very special welcome to you all to this the 12^th episode of ‘The Horror in Smithville’! My Dear Readers this episode just about didn’t happen. Even to this very moment I am having severe shooting pains into my left arm and hand. Since 4 AM this morning I’ve been running a 100 to 102° temperatures, and dizziness has been frequent and often. Yet, My Dear Readers, I know that a great many of you are anxiously awaiting the publication of this, the 12^th, episode of this horror story.

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My Dear Readers a heck of a lot is fixing to happen in the next 12 pages. You are about to read of this the 12^th episode of this wonderful horror story. Yet… I’m not going to give you even so much as a teaser as to what’s about to happen. This episode, My Dear Readers, has taken me nearly 3 days to complete. From first outlines, and rough drafts, to what you’re about to read here this evening on Friday, June 20, 2014 has been a journey in and of itself.

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The adventures of Timmy and Archer are as real, and come from my own personal experiences, as any thing I have ever written. There are moments, several of them, which you will be reading today that were literally taken out of my memories as a young man. As an extra special treat, for everyone out there from Pearland Texas, (and everyone that has known me and my scholastic life) there is a very special ‘Guest Appearance’ in today’s episode by someone we all dearly loved.

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Now, My Dear Readers, if at the end of this episode you know who the extra special ‘Guest Appearance’ was? I would very much like for you to; leave a comment on my blog, make a comment on Facebook, send me a message through Facebook, call me on the phone, let me and everyone out here know WHO the very special ‘Guest Appearance’ in this episode was devoted to. Now, if you don’t know me in real life. If you don’t know who my teachers were in school. You won’t know who this special appearance is. However, I am willing to bet that a great many of you My Dear Readers, a great many of you, will know and can tell who the very special ‘Guest Appearance’… was.

 

This man, the very special ’Guest Appearance’, meant a lot to me in a very troubling time in my life. He was like a father to me and I carry what he taught me through every day of my life. I give homage to this man by including him as an important character in this, my very first venture into the horror genre. I just can’t tell you how important this episode is. I just can’t tell you how hard I have worked on this episode, for you My Dear Readers. I hope that everyone makes an opportunity to come and read this today. And I do hope, sincerely and I say this heartfelt, that everyone that comes to read this today enjoys it and takes something with them when they’re done.

 

And now, My Dear Readers, without further ado I give you Part TWELVE of ‘The Horror in Smithville’!

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Part Twelve

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Well, Archer thought, the day had just turned around for the better… why not have the school bully find him and Timmy alone in the hallways? If things would go there way too much they might get a feeling of… entitlement! Archer need not turn around, to know that Timmy had heard is irritating and boisterous voice, too. Barry had been their personal bully now for the past three grades, at least! Not a week would pass that one, or both, would get a toilet bowl swirly, pants’ed in the hallway, or shoved into a locker.

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Though, the getting shoved into the locker had, mostly, passed as they both had grown too big to have the door closed. Now, how could it be fun if you couldn’t close the locker door on your victim? Barry was closing in on Timmy and Archer, just as they turned the corner headed into the cafeteria. They could hear Barry’s footsteps race, in an effort to catch-up. Just as Barry turned the corner, the bell rang ending lunch. With Barry almost within reach of Archer, a flood of students came barreling out of cafeteria. As he was carried away from Timmy and Archer, he could be heard yelling at them…

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“I’ll get you two! Just wait till class is over, I will get you!”

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As the students came out from lunch, they pushed against Barry. Soon Barry was carried away on the tide of students and Timmy and Archer pushed into the lunchroom. There wasn’t enough time to sit, or have lunch, but they had totally missed a confrontation with their bully, Barry. The day had taken a decidedly good turn for our duo, Timmy and Archer. They took a few moments to sit on a lunchroom bench and look at Timmy’s hand. The swelling had gone done… a lot! It was no longer as big as a catcher’s mitt, more the size of a child’s toy mitt. Yet, all that fluid had to go somewhere!

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“Archer… I really need to go… Help me get up and to the bathroom. K?”

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Heck, Archer was so happy to have Timmy back to, nearly, normal he would have walked Timmy to the gates of Hell if he had asked right then. Archer helped Timmy get up, and let Timmy lean on his left shoulder as they made their way to the lunchroom boy’s bathroom. Archer kicked open the bathroom door, with one foot, leaned in to hold it open with his shoulder. Timmy limped into the bathroom and pushed through a stall door, quickly sitting down. Timmy was shaking all over, like he had a terrible fever. Thing was, he didn’t have any fever, just an overwhelming need to empty his darn bladder.

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Timmy stood up leaned against one of the stall doors, and let the flood gates open. Timmy was pretty amazed that was he went, his hand (almost) seemed to get smaller and smaller with every passing moment. He didn’t realize it, but he must have been going for several minuets. Outside Archer called to him.

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“Timmy, you trying to flood the school’s drainage system in there? You have been… in there for, like, five minutes! You ok?

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Timmy didn’t respond, immediately, he just couldn’t stop if his life had depended on it. All Archer heard, outside, was Timmy laughing, ever so quietly, and the sound of gallons and gallons going down the drain. This went on for the better part of ten minuets, when Timmy finally stopped. He sat back down, on the toilet cover, and just took a moment to catch his breath. Timmy was sitting there, listening to his heart beat, feeling the cold of the metal fixture behind his back, when he, again,. Hear Archer’s voice from outside the stall.

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“Don’t mean to rush you my bloated friend, but I would put even money on Barry coming back to see if we are here,… and the last bell for our last class of the day is about to ring. Maybe we should get the heck out of here?”

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Archer’s right, Timmy though to himself, on both accounts. Yet, if he had his druthers, he would have sat there another hour or two. In this tall there were no zombie wolves. Mr. Albright’s death didn’t hang over his head, and for the first time in what felt like days, nobody was trying to kill them. Is this what life was like before the madness started? No wonder he loved his life, so very much… this was a life a person could relax, and enjoy.

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Timmy screwed up his courage, stood up and opened the bathroom stall door. There, just outside the door, was his best friend in the world, Archer. Archer was always right there… Even with zombie wolves attacking and a ‘Tall Man’ thrashing at them hell bent on killing… Archer was always… right there. In retrospect, it might have seemed… well, kind of gay… happening in a bathroom and all. Yet, Timmy just walked up to Archer, reached over and put his arms around his friend, and gave him a hug.

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“Thanks, Archer, for saving my life!”

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Archer blushed, and for a split-second he stood there and reveled in Timmy’s thanks. Then reality kicked in and Archer spoke.

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“Now, Timmy, don’t get me wrong or anything… I appreciate… like, you showing appreciation and all. Yet, if someone… anyone was to walk into this bathroom… right now? Well, the next six years of our lives would be a living hell. You do realize that, right?”

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Timmy let go of Archer, and started laughing. It felt good to laugh! Timmy reached over and rustled Archer’s hair, then went over to the sink to wash his hands. He was drying his hands when he and Archer heard the north side door to the bathroom open. Barry! Jeepers, Timmy thought, seems we just cannot catch a break, today. He darted a look over at Archer, then to the south-side bathroom door. Their only chance was to; make it out the other door, down the hallway, and into class before Barry caught up with them. Timmy looked to Archer and said, all he ever needed to say.

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“Archer… RUN!”

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As two lightening blots just let out of a jar, our boys ran, just as fast as they could for the other door, and their freedom from Barry. Not taking the second to actually open the bathroom door, Timmy (in the lead) pushed through the door with a Bam!They, then, blew out the bathroom door so hard that it caused the door to slam against the wall behind it. If anyone would have been watching, it would have looked like Timmy and Archer literally blew out of the boy’s bathroom. Not slowing one bit, Timmy and Archer barreled through the lunchroom, and out the closet door into the school hallway.

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Hot on their heals, Barry, fell flat on his face as he made the transition from bathroom to lunchroom. Under his breath, could be heard, a expletive when he hit the floor. Barry got right back up, and redoubled his efforts to catch up to Timmy and Archer before that made it to the classroom, and safety. Timmy was back to his self, and bolted for there third period… English class. Archer was falling behind… and it looked like Barry might just catch up to Archer, if Timmy didn’t do something to ‘save’ his friend. There was a water faucet, just outside of the English class, this gave Timmy an idea of how to even the odds. Without missing a beat Timmy called out to Archer.

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“Keep heading to class… do not stop when I do… I have an idea!”

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Now, this gave Archer some concern. Was Timmy going to sacrifice himself to Barry? That just did not seem like Timmy, he must have something up his sleeve. Nevertheless, Archer pumped his legs harder and made his way to the English classroom door. BRRRIIIINNNNNGGGG! The last bell for third period had started to ring. In just thirty seconds more, there would be a final bell. They had to be in their desks, or they would be tardy. As the boys approached the water fountain, just according to plan, Timmy stopped. What Archer didn’t know was that this water faucet… was broken. Someone had stuck a pencil into one of the holes. So, that when you pressed for water? It came shooting out into your face.

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A great joke for Middle school and it happened all too often for the staff. Yet, Timmy knew something more. If you held your finger over the hole... Just so it would shoot out into the hallway, right were people walked. Timmy stood, calmly (something had changed about Timmy… there was a casual strength about him... Archer saw it as he passed). No sooner had Archer passed the fountain, Timmy pressed the button, water came streaming out, Timmy the thumb of his (now working) left hand over the hole. Sure enough, the water was now wetting just where he and Archer had just run!Now, the next five things happen… all at once in this world.

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Unfortunately, I cannot write them that way, so I leave it up to you, My Dear Readers, to visualize all three as one.

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1) Archer and Timmy feel through the English classroom door, and into their seats.

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2) The final bell rang, for the tardy third period students.

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3) Barry came around the corner, at a high rate of speed. He hit the water…. Just right and, like a cartoon character who’s world just went wrong, Barry slid on the water like ice and went flying! Flying, literally, through the air! The English classroom door was opened, letting Archer and Timmy in… so everyone in the classroom saw what you are about to read.

4) Someone opened the door to the next classroom over… Spanish, I think.

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5) Barry, now airborne, with his head where his legs used to be… went flying right into that dorr! With a BAM, that echoed down three doors more, Barry hit the classroom door !

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All of this was witnessed, by the half of the English class Archer and Timmy were in, that sat closest to the door. It happened all at once, and seamlessly, just like in a cartoon.

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The English teacher, Mr. Dunahoo, sat calmly at the head of the classroom while this all happened just outside his door. He turned his head to the side, lowered the book he was reading, looked at our Heroes Duo, and said.

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“From the ruckus outside… I take it that Archer and Timmy have quite a tale to tell… in the paper you all have due at the end of this hour.”

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Then, Mr. Dunahoo returned his face to behind the book, which he read. A groan went up from the classroom, and then they all broke into whispers and laughter. Seems our boys, again, evaded capture by the bully name Barry.

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Timmy and Archer told two people… and they told two people…, so on, and so one. By the end of the class everyone in English knew what had happened in the hallway, with Barry. Seemed, as they all piled out of the classroom, the incident was on everyone’s lips that left English that day. Luckily, for our Heroes Duo, there was no next period. For certainly, had there been, Barry would have heard that everyone knew. If Barry had known… that everyone knew how he flew through the air (butt first) into a door and came crashing down on his head. Well, the events later this day… out by the buses, could… would have been much worse.

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Once the story had made its way around the room, and back again, everyone settled down to write their story for Mr. Dunahoo. As Timmy sat their, writing his version of the events that transpired with Barry (from the bathroom on, nothing of what came before), he wondered just how many versions of the same story Mr. Dunahoo would have to read. Timmy was quite content that his version as the only one that really mattered, his and Archer’s. Archer… as Timmy sat and wrote the story, he thought of Archer. How Archer had managed to drag his body; onto the bus, off the bus, into classrooms, out of classrooms, and finally into the science lab with Mr. Champion. Frankly, Timmy thought, he owed his life to Archer, and Archer’s quick actions and decisions. He couldn’t think of a better person to face… whatever was to come.

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That was the other thing. Timmy had felt it since two days past working in the barn. A sense of foreboding, and of loss. A sense that, somehow, his life and Archer’s… for whatever reason, for some time to come… their lives were not their own. That destiny had stepped into their lives, and taken the reins to their immediate futures. This was not a ‘Good Feeling’. Matter of fact, it had Timmy quite on edge. Jumping at the slightest sound and living every moment with a exaggerated sense of reality, and the world around them. Them… that was the other part. Even though, when this feeling first overcame him, he was alone. He had always felt that this was a shared destiny with Archer.

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Timmy did not like that aspect of this… situation. If he, Timmy, was to ‘suffer the slings and arrows of an outrageous fortune… and by opposing, end them!’? That was cool, Timmy could handle himself and if he failed? It was only Timmy that might get hurt, or worse yet… die. Archer was his best friend. The best friend any person could ever ask for in whatever, whichever reality they may live. The thought that his, Timmy’s, failure might… might cost Archer! Cost him his… life! Well, that was completely unacceptable! Timmy guessed that that was the ‘where’ of the sense of hyper-vigilance he had been feeling for the past two days.

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Whatever happened… Archer would not pay for Timmy being ‘asleep at the wheel’. The more the thought about this, the more he kicked himself for getting bit. He knew he was too close to those zombie wolves. He knew that he should have moved up the tree, the way Archer had suggested. Two things to learn from this; 1) Keep a good distance between yourself and any undead. 2) Listen to Archer, he obviously has my back… and my welfare at heart. Just as this thought had finished in Timmy’s mind, he heard the bell ring.

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It was the final bell of the day. As each student passed Mr. Dunahoo’s desk, they turned in their papers. As Timmy laid his one his desk, Mr. Dunahoo put down his book and looked at Timmy, and Archer. He smiled… Mr. Dunahoo rarely smiled in class, but he was smiling now.

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“My guess is that I should read you two boy’s papers, first. Would I be correct in that assumption? You two were the only ones actually in the hallway when Barry… had his accident. That is correct, Mr. Marref?”

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Timmy noticeably blushed, and Archer began to nervously push Timmy towards the door. Timmy smiled, first, then answered.

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“Mr. Dunahoo, Archer and I were the only ones in the hallway… when Barry took, flying lessons, yes. Now, if he hadn’t been chasing us… running so fast in the hallway? He might have seen the water on the floor… and none of this would have happened.”

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Again, Mr. Dunahoo smiled, even bigger, and even laughed (slightly) under his breath.

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“’Flying lessons’… Did you just come up with that, or will I be treated with this metaphor when I read your paper?”

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Timmy had included that in his story… Archer was already in the classroom when Barry took flight. Archer was now pressing very hard against Timmy’s back… it was obvious that Archer was really uncomfortable and wanted to get home. Timmy cut things with Mr. Dunahoo short.

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“It’s all in there, Mr. Dunahoo. Anything more and you would have needed to be in the lunchroom bathroom when he started after us or in the hallway when he decided to take flying lessons. Have a great three-day weekend, Mr. Dunahoo!”

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In his deep baritone voice Mr. Dunahoo said ‘You, too… you two!” then laughed, in an equally deep bass. You could hear Mr. Dunahoo laugh all the way outside, it made Timmy and Archer, both, smile to hear him laugh at their exploits. However, both boys knew one person that was not laughing, Barry! They, too, both knew that he would likely be laying in wait near the buses. They didn’t stop by their lockers, on their way out of the building. Every second might make the difference between missing a ‘meeting’ (more like beating) with Barry, or making it home safe. With that, Timmy and Archer left the building and headed to the buses.

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As it was, Barry was on the prowl for our Duo; Timmy and Archer. His head still hurt, nearly as much as his pride. Barry knew that Timmy and Archer took the same bus home, and he knew which one, too. All Barry need do, is reach the bus before them, and lie in wait. Barry darted out of the door, when the last bell of the day rang. He knew where he was headed; he knew what he wanted to do. By the end of this day… little Mister Marref, would look worse than he felt.

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All of the buses, that took all the children home, all lined up behind the gym building. Now, Barry did not take the same bus home as Timmy and Archer. That meant he had only one chance to get even with this gaywad duo before a long weekend. There was no way he was going to let them get away with what they did to him, no frickin’ dippin’ way! His Dad had taught him one thing, well over the years. When you have your chance? You get even with people, and you get even... good! Sitting there, behind the gym bleachers hidden from view, he thought. He had never seen that little Marref kid’s head bounce. But he was willing to bet, that given enough force? His little fathead would bounce real fine. That little short kid?

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Arker… Archer, he had no fight with him, today. He best just keep away, he didn’t want to have to put the hurt on him, too. But… if’n he had to, he would see if his head bounced, too. Sitting there, thinking about watching Timmy’s head bounce made him feel all warm and fuzzy. It, also, made him want a smoke. NO! If’n he went further under the bleachers to smoke… he might miss Timmy, and the pleasure of seeing his little fat-head, bounce. After. After he was done with this little fat-headed gaywad… then he would smoke. He would really enjoy that cigarette!

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Timmy was feeling right as rain, now. Not at all like this morning and the ride into school. Come to think of it, he really couldn’t remember the ride into school this morning. Not at all! Well, the ‘good thing’ was that he was feeling himself again, and he would remember the ride home! With Archer at his side, and his hand back to normal, Timmy was ready to face whatever the night, and the other world had to throw at them. So long as he had Archer at his side, as a team they could face anything!

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Archer was remembering the ride into school, as they approached the busses behind the gym. How he had to struggle to get Timmy on to the bus. How he managed to find something to wake Timmy enough to get him off the bus. This ride, home? Was going to be a breeze compared to the ride this morning. Timmy was back to his old self, with Timmy at his side (Archer thought) there is nothing that their ‘dream-world’ or a bunch of zombie wolves could throw at them… that together they could not face!

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‘face’ That was the word going through Archer’s mind, when it happened. Timmy was to Archer’s right. Archer to Timmy’s left, as always. When suddenly, and in his peripheral vision, Archer saw Timmy suddenly… stop! Timmy’s head, and neck, stopped where they were. Timmy’s body and legs.. just kept moving forward! Now, again out of his peripheral vision, Archer sees Timmy’s legs go flying up into the air! Timmy’s head is still stationary and his face… in one place, but all twisted… in pain!

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Archer stops dead in his tracks and turns to his left. What he sees… what Archer sees, right now, he will keep seeing (in his nightmares) for the next several weeks. Archer sees an arm at Timmy’s throat. His feet are flying up into the air, with a big burly arm wrapped around his throat. Archer follows the arm, up to the body, and he sees his face. Barry! It has taken several seconds for Archer to realize just what has happened. Barry, lying in wait behind the gym class bleachers, has clothslined Timmy! As Archer is realizing just what is happening, Timmy’s body comes crashing down to the ground with a dull thud, head first!

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All the children, that just seconds before we walking within feet of Timmy and Archer, are now running off in all directions. Like frightened gazelle, seeing a loin take down a brother, the children run away from the predator… screaming in fear! Archer is frozen… he just cannot move. His best friend in all the world… is lying on the ground on his back… and he just cannot move out of fear. Now, Barry jumps up on to Timmy’s chest, and begins wailing on his face with both hands!

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End Part Twelve

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And with that, My Dear Readers, I leave you standing at the edge of a cliff waiting for next Friday in the upcoming episode, episode 13! My Dear Readers, the way I left the episode today is the way you can anticipate I’m going to leave you every single episode for the rest of this story. As a young boy I used to watch the horse operas in the movie theater. Every week they would take you to the edge of a clef, take the character to the very brink of death, and then ended a sharing that you would be back there next Friday or Saturday to see what happened to the hero. That, My Dear Readers, is going to be my modus operandi for the rest of this thrilling tale.

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Now, I don’t feel completely right leaving lots of people not knowing who the very special guest stars this episode… Wise. The very special guest star for this episode was Mr. Truman Dunahoo. Truman came in my life my freshman year of high school, just after my father had exited my life. Truman taught me most everything I know about acting, and writing. This story, what you’re reading right here right now, could very well be the very first novel I ever have published. That is the hope, that is my prayers, and with all good fortune they will both become a reality.

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I wanted, very much, for Truman to be a part of that experience… That reality. So I will him into the fabric of the story. This is the first time you’ve seen Truman, in the story or my writings, but I assure you it will not be the last. Like my father before him, Truman’s hand is left mine. However, I will never forget the man, and I will never forget the lessons he taught me.

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That, My Dear Readers, brings us to the very end of this part 12 of the horror in Smithville. I have to tell you, I really do look forward to Fridays again, this Friday’s I get to write and share this wonderful and thrilling tale. I look forward to seeing you all to hear for reviews over the weekend, for stories on Monday Tuesday Wednesday and Thursday, and I look forward to seeing you all again here next Friday. For next Friday I will unveil, what is working up to be, the single most; exciting, thrilling, exciting, bloody, violent, and intense episode of this story so far. If you like roller coasters your dinner rock you’re going to love the next 100 pages of this tale. As always thank you for coming and reading my work time deeply honored by your readership.

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Adieu!

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Thank you!

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[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="234"] The Other Shoe eBay Store[/caption]

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http://www.ebay.com/usr/enzomatrixlt

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[caption id="attachment_2866" align="aligncenter" width="630"] Danny Hanning of The Other Shoe - May 6th, 2014[/caption]