Mystery – Page 5 – The Official Website of Author Derek Barton

FRESH STORY CONTENT 10/27/2022 — Derek Barton — Wyvernshield!! – 2022

In spite of the activities they were about to perform, the night was relatively quiet in the compound. Taliah was in her ceremonial robe, waiting on a Bhik-sunii to retrieve her from her room and escort her to the Ritual Room. She was calm and rested, her thick red hair bound up in a silver brooch. Her blindfold laid across her lap, she did not like to wear it in the privacy of her room. However, for the Order ceremonies or when she was consulting visitors she always had one to cover the deep groves, the scars cut into her face and of course, the hideous open eye sockets. Without it, there was always an awkward tension in the air. She understood that people were thrown off by the mutilation and it made them uncomfortable. Yet she was at peace with all of it. It was the price she paid, the penance for her forced actions on behalf of the Viestrahl which led to much blood spilt.

She wondered what the Blood Seyde would reveal to her tonight. Normally, she took her cues from nature when to perform the Seyde, a bath in blood. Storms would coalesce and sweep in to their island. The pounding of the rain, the strafing rains, and the raw energies released by its lightning would charge her power.

Sometimes with those storms came a mystic messenger, a white cloud-like entity. These entities wanted her to see their stories, live a moment or day in their lives. They were her guides through history. Even a king once came to her and confessed to her his greatest sins. These visions had revealed much to her and explained so many mysteries of local lore to her which she shared with Tal Crowan and the Khestal Ezan Order.

Yet, there were no such storms this evening. She proposed the idea to Tal and set up the Seyde herself. A compulsion or maybe it was intuition, but something nagged at her and inspired the idea to try and gain knowledge of the Etohlosii through her visions. At first, it took some convincing as the procurement of the precious gallons of blood was expensive. In the end, he agreed it may provide a direction.

The Beleardea were ahead of them and with the Ebon Queen’s backing, they easily blocked all of their other endeavors to learn what was happening behind the Barrier of Storms.

A memory of crystal water stained red, a fountain of white and silver stone, the horrific vision rose up in Taliah and she shuddered. It had been a terrorizing, prophetic dream she had before Letandra had been taken by the Crown. A revealing glimpse into madness and human sacrifice. The blood in her fountains were human, while the blood Taliah would bathe in was from animals. A subtle but important difference.

A metal gong was struck and reverberated through the compound. It was time, her escort would arrive soon.

She pulled up the red and gold blindfold and placed it over her scarred face. Carefully, she worked herself over to stand near the door.

Moments later she heard the wooden clogs of the Bhik-sunii girls as they came to her bed chamber.

One gave a soft knock and they came in without a word. She extended her arm then was led through the halls.

Taliah laid naked inside a silver bathtub, the cold metal chilling her backside as she waited for the ritual to begin.

She smelled a faint wisp of scented smoke coming from several braziers in the corners of the room. A metallic tinkling sound drifted down to her ears that came from long metal chimes hung from the ceiling in between red wax candles and ruby crystal chandeliers.

The Bhik-sunii strode up and surrounded the bathtub, presumably with their silver pitchers. She braced herself and focused her thoughts.

Cam Rhea initiated the special Song of Crossing to deliver her into the In-Between. The In-Between was an enormous intersection of all existence, where all the planes connected. It was said to be like an emerald sea where nothing physically existed yet everything could be found there too. She did not understand it nor had she ever seen it with her own eyes, even before she was blind.

The Song of Crossing and the intricate chants were to guide her to the intersection as well as provide a level of magical and spiritual protection. There were said to be creatures that could prey upon souls or even capture one in order to replace them in reality.

“Pa tas bea’tra. Pa tas bea’tra. Pa tas bea’tra – Keyor!” Speak through the blood. Speak through the blood. Speak through the blood — Dead One! As the girls chanted, they poured the oily liquid contents of the pitchers. Taliah then felt their hands upon her limbs and shoulders keeping her firmly beneath the surface of the warm blood.

She spasmed and her body fought their hold, but in time as always it gave in and went limp. As she entered the Crossing, her body became weightless. Then a fire built inside her, it raged through every cell. While she still could not see, a picture formed of her surroundings inside her mind. Every nerve of her body was in direct connection to the In-Between and absorbed every detail in an all encompassing vision.

Within the In-Between were millions of strands or soul-lines, long, convoluted cables, representing each person’s life. They wound together in massive braids, the family blood lines of each generation. It was at this point the guide or the Mystic Messenger would take her to the strand she needed and she would delve into the depths of their lives, living through their eyes or witnessing it in a spirit-form.

When Taliah was new to the role as a Blood Seeress, it was hard to know the limits of what she could do and to understand what she saw. And even though she was more experienced, she still found she had a loose grasp on her power. It was one of the reasons she was so excited to try this experiment this evening. She wanted to push the boundaries again and at the same time, she hoped to find more useful answers.

She hesitated opn how to proceed. No “Dead One” tonight for her to rely on so she waited for any sign. Floating in the Emerald Sea among the multitude of soul-lines made her feel insignificant and at the same time a critical element to all the souls around her.

Finally she felt the tiniest of vibrations caress her skin. She pushed herself toward it trying to gain a stronger indication of its location. Again the sensation of rippling waves tickled her. but it was barely any different than before. This meant that the soul-line was a distance from her. It would take some time and a lot of mental energy to find the hidden strand.

That did not bode well for Taliah. The longer in the In-Between, the harder it was to extract from it. As well it meant a more intensive rest would be needed afterward. She hated bed-rest. The fact that the hidden strand was some distance, however, did boost her mood. This was a sign that the event to be witnessed was deep in history.

As she had not felt any other twinges or sensations from other strands, she had to hope that this was the one she needed.

It took the greater half of the night she estimated to reach the soul-line. Taliah hoped she was not woken too early. The Bhik-sunii watched over her physical form in the real world and studied her to see signs of stress. If they feared she was in danger they had processes to retrieve her soul-line. They knew she disliked long periods in the mysterious plane, yet they also knew this was an important quest for her. It was a dual test of their wisdom for them and a test of her fortitude.

She trusted their patience would hold them from disrupting her.

Not waiting any time, she located the strand among several knotted family braids and immediately plunged her essence into the ivory cable.

****

A set of five pedestals stood before her, four with individual marks and thick moldy tomes. The room was square with a high arched ceiling. A trio of sky lights allowed sunrays to pierce the room’s gloomy shadows and encircle the pedastals. Taliah recognized the pedastals and books but not the location. She saw a similar set up once in a long ago vision, but that room had been hidden in present day somewhere in the city of Rovmantysa. The Beleardea had established a chamber, acquired the tomes and used them in their rituals.

She did not understand why they were here now in front of her. This room was empty, its walls were only adorned with a symbolic scripting. It was the exact opposite of her vision of the altar for ARa Etohl — that room had been circular, ringed with candles and the walls covered in tapestries showing the Vile Beast, the Three-Horned Snake God.

Staring down at her hands, she recognized that they were too rough and callused to be a woman’s hands. In the right hand was a torch and the other a dirt-caked hand shovel.

“Aramon, move in already. I want to see.” A woman’s voice, thick with the Jehahi accent called out behind him.

“Aye. It’s beautiful. Jussa like the Shaman said.” The man answered. Taliah remained inside only as a witness. She had no power here. All was displayed to her as if they were actors in a play before her.

The man raised from his crawling position and stood in the room. His face drawn in rapture and his eyes seem to eat up the writing on the walls.

As the woman came in, Taliah noted her youth first then the fact that her naked torso was tattooed in symbols. She recognized a few religious symbols but could not remember the meanings. She was dressed in a long flowing skirt and had a bronze circlet which had delicate chains woven into her hair. The braid hung down her back to her waist. She carried a backpack and a couple of watersacks on a belt. Neither she or this Aramon were armed.

“We don’t have much time.” She tried to spur him into action. When he remained frozen, she shrugged and crossed over to the first of the pedestals.

The tome was three handspans wide and bound in gray-scaled leather with golden rings. A glass crystal orb was embedded in the cover. Without realizing it, she subconsciously rubbed her fingers over the translucent glass. A high-pitched whine escaped it and filled the chamber for a couple of seconds.

“Shasha! What did you do?” Aramon shouted as spun to look at her. He ran to her side. The second tome answered in turn with its own pitch, slightly higher. A hooked staff shown on its cover and was depicted in gold and platinum metal engraving. The third book, marked by a Silver Crown rang out in an even higher octave. All four tomes continued to trill and gain in intensity.

“I…I don’t know?” A tear slipped down her cheek. “But, I think…I think I hear the voice of Yula Do Vras. It is so beautif–“

“–NO! You’ve only triggered some kind of alarm. Grab them before…”

A part of the back wall shifted and a square section of sandstone slowly dropped and cascaded into a pile upon the floor. A passage dark and foreboding could be seen as it continued into mysterious shadows. The tomes shrills whines diminished and faded into silence.

The pair stared at each other, neither had an answer or expected this.

Aramon approached the opening and held up his torch which sputtered on an unseen draft coming from the tunnel. The flames steadily regained and remained lit on the wooden shaft. Over his shoulder, he commanded again, “Get the books, Shasha. Come!”

“I donna like the looks of that way. We should go back the ways we came. That way opened for a reason. Who knows what it’s purpose might be. A trap perhaps?”

A whispery voice called out from the tunnel. It was featherlight and musical. She was almost certain it was the same sweet voice she had heard before. The words were impossible to make out but they repeated over and over to them.

Before the pair knew it, they were standing inside another mammoth chamber, their torchlight barely illuminating a quarter of it. Marble pillars stood on white and black tiled floors. They rose high overhead to an unseen ceiling. Nothing of this place seemed familiar or even possibly connected to the temple they had invaded. The room was manmade but appeared to be nearly empty. Taliah noted that there were rows of wooden benches or pews on either side of an immense aisle. Their sandals made odd thumping sounds as they traveled deeper into the heart of the chamber.

Finally they stood before a raised dais and a wooden altar. A gray and red cloth carpeted the dais.

A figure stood waiting behind the altar, silken beige thin wraps covered the figure from head to toe. The wraps were see-through and haphazard in fashion. The figure was a collection of bones, not a full skeleton. A chain of black links and sapphire gems was the only decoration upon its neck.

“Come, O Children O Children,” The figure called out as the skull turned to acknowledge their presence. It had the sweet angelic voice.

“Who are you? Where are we?” Challenged Aramon.

“You are in Sanctuary. You are forever safe.”

Shasha pulled on Aramon’s shoulder. “I donna like this. Please, let’s go back the other ways.”

“I want to show you what gifts you hold. I want you to understand their meaning and their power.” The wrapped figure said. It had no real emotion in its words, just a simple statement of desire. It floated closer, ominous and wreathed with ivory light. Breath-taking, towering over them, intimidating all at the same time.

“We donna mean any disgrace to Yula Do Vras. Our…our mother is dying and we needed the bounty for the books to pay for her care. We see that this was wrong and we’ll replace them. Please!” Aramon begged.

“I am not asking to take the books from you. They shall be forever a part of you. I only want to show you their reason for existence. You have done Us a great favor, O Children O Children” The figure rose above them, its light now bathing them.

The siblings whimpered in superstitious fear and dropped to their knees, clasping their hands. “Please. PLEASE! Forgive our trespass. We will return them. Donna hurt us.” Shasha ranted as she buried her face into her brother’s shoulder.

“You do not understand… yet,.. how you have done Us the favor. Now we impart onto you what you have released into the existence again.” Its skeletal hands came down and rested on their foreheads. The figure’s remnants of skin was mottled gray and with patches of coarse black hairs. Blue veins stood out under the thin, taught skin. Its clinging flesh writhed uncontrollably.

Both Aramon and Shasha shrieked and filled the room with tortured screams.

****

Taliah’s eyes were blind again. A searing pain filled her. She reflexively flung herself back into reality, crashing out of the silver tub, sprawling like a wild fish upon the floor. Her hands clutched at the sides of her head as her screams mimicked the pair over and over. Horrific images flooded her mind’s eye.

The Etohlosii were coming and soon they would release ARa Etohl forever upon the realms. All realms!

The Bhik-sunii swept her up, trying to calm her, but it took hours for her to return to sanity. She writhed all that time, wrestled in their arms as she cried. They eventually put a leather strip in her mouth to prevent her from biting off her tongue and chewing away her lips.

All the while, Tal Crowan stood silently watching, pen and parchment in hand. He wrote down her every word. He listened to every muttered phrase or name. Her words began to repeat — he surmised that she was giving him a prophecy, a litany of events that may come, names of those who must live and those who must die or the Corruption of ARa Ehtol would come and end all existence.

CHECK IT! CHECK IT OUT!! — Derek Barton – 2022

General

Hey Everyone!

We have set up a Kickstarter for our magazine. What’s a Kickstarter? CHECK IT OUT AND SEE WHAT SPECIAL ITEMS/REWARDS/COLLECTIBLES YOU CAN GET BY HELPING US REACH OUR GOAL!

2023 will be a great new year of fresh content and thrilling horror!!!!

. Want to know what YOU get?

Be a part of the team and on board for a great series of chilling stories!!!

New Project for 2023, Ready for it? — Derek Barton – 2022

General

I am excited to announce MY new venture — I’ve gathered over a dozen horror and crime fiction writers to write unique, short stories which will be issued in beautifully arranged magazine issues.

Every quarter, we are set to release indie-original fiction along with crafted poetry, author-drawn illustrations, picture & author biographies, and in-depth interviews with some of the authors.

Writing Staff: Derek Barton, Alyanna Poe, Chris Pelton, John N. McLean, Albert Moss, Andy Holberry, Jennifer Amato , Adam C Mitchell, Sam Synner, Annmarie McMullin, Jace Killjoy, Steve Cain and Thomas Stewart Copy Editor: Nesa Miller

Soon I will announce our Kickstarter campaign where for a minimal pledge, you will gain access to custom made metal bookmarkers, digital/softcover issues, an exciting Zoom Halloween Party with the Magazine Contributors, t-shirts, bonus story material, and even my Elude Series on Audible!

I will keep you all in the loop on any upcoming details or updates. With success, I hope to extend this project into the following year, maybe going bi-monthly with the issues! And of course, if I’m able to I would love to create the same kind of magazine but for Fantasy & Sci-Fi stories! Time will tell!!

Blogs, Blogs & More Blogs! — Derek Barton – 2022

General

This blog will be my 195th blog posting since I created this site back in July of 2016. I am really proud of the body of work. But there’s a big problem with having this many.

How can you know what I’ve written in the past or where to even look? This ARCHIVES section gives you only the amount of blog posts I’ve written in that particular month.

So it took some research, some digging into WordPress’s Help section, followed up with some very quick responses from their Customer Service agents to finally find a way to organize my posts and to provide simple categories for you to read my posts and posts I’ve written years ago.

Here is the new MENU for my blogs and some of the topics you may find interesting. Of course a lot of the posts have #tags for you to search for, but this also gives you a specific place to find blogs you may have interests in.

LATEST Blog — This of course is where you’ll still find my latest, most current blog posts. For instance this months are: * Frest Content 8/11/22 (A new chapter for Wyvernshield) * New Release – The Infernal Eternal (Release notice about my new gamebook)

BLOGS: General — These are blogs about Appearances, Book Releases, Book Giveaways or General Announcements, etc. Examples: * A Humbling Sight (Post about Hometown Library showcase) * New Author Interview (An Interview I did in 2020) * New Avenues To Me (Post about Patreon & Pinterest)

BLOGS: New Content — This category is especially good if you are looking to read any new work – rough drafts for upcoming novels. Examples: * First Sneak Peek of Evade II (Chapter excerpt) * Writing Prompt #4 – Max the Most (A horror short story) * Sneak Preview Chapter from Evade (Chapter excerpt)

BLOGS: Writing Tips — Blogs for other writers who may be interested in learning more about my style and view on word craft. Examples: * Repel the Resistance (How to fight Procrastination) * Immerse Or Die (How to keep readers involved)

BLOGS: Self-publishing — Posts that give insight into Self-publishing manuscripts and what you can anticipate in the complex process. Examples: * Essential Elements to Book Covers * The Art of The Juggle (Tips on Organizing)

BLOGS: Goal Setting — Category describing some methods for making goals and how I did or did not achieve them. Examples: * 2017 Bi-monthly Goals for July & August * 2017 Nanowrimo November & December Bi-monthly Goals (Post about making goals around Nanowrimo Challenge)

BLOGS: Personal — Personal posts that give you a behind-the-scenes glimpse of my life. Examples: * Stroke — My Internal/External Ordeal * 2020 Bio Blog (Things about me & who I am)

BLOGS: Book Review — Mostly audiobook reviews and/or occasional movie reviews… Examples: * Audible Book Review of Robert Jordan’s “Eye of the World” * Audible Book Review of Stephen KIng’s “The Outsider”

BLOGS: Guest Posts — A few guest blogs from writer Adam C. Mitchell, crime noir author. * Chandler’s Ten Commandments

I hope this helps you find some old posts you may have liked before and want to reread. Or maybe you’ll find posts you may have missed or posts made before you found my site. Either way, you will discover so many posts on here that have very little views, but I hope you will find very beneficial, enlightening or entertaining!

NEW RELEASE – The Eternal Infernal – Derek Barton – 2022

General

Hot off the press, this fun, action-packed gamebook is now on sale on Amazon! Paperback version soon to come.

You are about to join young Zack Lyons, a budding YouTube Video Blogger on a unique adventure!

What starts as a usual day of urban exploring on the outskirts of the city, quickly turns into a bizarre, dangerous nightmare in an abandoned ex-government lab. He’ll need your street-smarts, some key decision-making, and a real stroke of good luck to survive.

Enjoy this fun, action-packed tale — part story, part game! You decide what rooms to explore, what to keep on hand, and who to fight or flee!

GRAB YOUR COPY TODAY! CLICK HERE

FRESH STORY CONTENT!! 5/17/2022 — Derek Barton – 2022

New Content

Hey there! It’s been a while, but I’m back — my stroke recovery is going well. I’m nearly 90% (my hand and my speech needs some more time), but overall, I think it’s time to get back to work!

My main goal this year is to find a way to get more stories out this year and making time to work on several stories at the same time. Which story, you ask? All of them of course. Heh.

Currently I have three stories that I have been adding on to here and there, wanting so badly to write and complete each one, yet I get derailed time and time again. Those projects are: The Flight of The Dirithi series, a new horror story project (working title so far is Days of The Rending) and finally the Third Wyvernshield story. The two fantasy stories are especially way overdue. I seriously thank you for your support and patience. (And… on top of all this, I’m considering an Elude screenplay!)

The plan is to work up at least one day a week a blog with new pages. I will continue to post these blogs up until the last quarter of each book. You can follow along, but keep in mind these will be RAW, uncut gems (only first wave edited) and when the books are actually produced there are bound to be changes, additions and deletions to the material.

I hope by publishing some new content every week this will force me to make headway on all three novels. One caveat, I have to rewrite my outline for the third Wyvernshield book so it may take me a while before you see a blog with that storyline.

Today I will go ahead and give you an exciting new chapter in my latest horror story. Next week I will start at the intro and reprint my opening chapter of The Flight of The Dirithi so you can refresh yourselves on that one.

I will title each of these blogs as Fresh Content and date them so you can be sure you are on the right one.

Again thank you for all your kindness during my recovery and I truly appreciate the well-wishes!!

Enjoy!!!!!

Chapter One

Sammy Samuels wasn’t bothered by the late-night Philly air. In fact, he rather enjoyed its touch of briskness. Made him feel more alive on his walks home. His breath plumed, funneling out and trailed behind the old man’s head. As he walked along the street, he whistled an old favorite R & B tune to himself. A large smile was stretched across his face. There were touches of gray along the edges of his afro. In his left hand, he held a smoldering, snubbed cigar and in the other, he carried a bottle of Jimmy Bean Bourbon.

As Sammy crested the hill on Jacobson St., he first spotted it. He nearly skidded to a stop, and he stiffened in spite of himself. “Wow. What in the hell is that?” he muttered under his breath.

At the bottom, in the hollow, at the corner of Jacobson and Alan Derry St., sat one of the ugliest statues he’d ever seen in his life. It was of a dog, a large one like a German Shepherd. It was placed to sit facing back up at the hill. The streetlamp overhead gave it a wide spotlight of yellowish light. The statue’s fur a natural patchwork of tan, brown and black. However, above its snout was a red plastic mask, white X’s over its eyes.

Never seen that here before, he mused. Sick joke or something.

He didn’t find it amusing. He’d come down this way a few times before from Delta Blues Liquor Store if he had to – when he’d miss the last running Metro bus like he did tonight. He was sure he’d have noticed that gawdy thing.

Sammy shook his head, chuckled, and returned to whistling his favorite song. One of them millennial artists musta placed it there recently. Prolly got some sort of statement and story behind it. Nowadays, everyone got something to say, an opinion that everyone just has to listen to!

He shook his head once more disdainfully. At halfway down the hill, he stopped abruptly again. He nearly dropped his half-finished bottle. To the right of the street and sitting dutifully on both sides of a door were two more of the statues. Same red masks with the white Xs, different shades of fur. The pair were placed in front of Rawley’s Deli.

Sammy instinctively glanced to the left to see if there were dog statues posted as the others. Nothing. As habit, he scratched one temple with an index finger as he stood confused.

Instead of more statues, he found a small alley entrance, cluttered by two tall brick buildings and several brown, city garbage bins. A flickering light hung off one building but it was further back at the end.

He looked back at the three dogs one by one, looking for a poster or sign to further elaborate on the work’s meanings. Nothing.

Sammy shrugged, took a long swig from the bottle which he followed with a deep drag from his cigar.

He stepped forward, cursing the way the world was so over-populated with opinionated assholes and full of self-righteousness these darkening days, when he saw the fourth dog statue. It was sitting motionless next to the first one at Jacobson St.

The bottle dropped and shattered at his feet. He blurted, “What da hell?” Where did that one come from?

The dogs tilted their heads together, slowly to the right as dogs do as if listening to his inner questions.

Sammy’s heart raced and his chest tightened with sudden fear. He took an involuntary step backward. Swiveling his head to the left then right, he looked to see if anyone else happened to be out in this late hour. He prayed he would spy someone — anyone – and not another dog statue!

Were they statues? The shocking question bubbled up in his mind.

No one else was out, most of the store fronts were dark and closed up. Due to the recent cold spell, no one was out or near the apartment buildings or out on their stoops.

Three more dogs appeared. They lazily strolled out from another alleyway ahead of him, walking in a line. They sat upon their haunches, sitting on the sidewalk in formation, then they too tilted their heads in question.

Almost like they asking me ‘what the fuck you gonna do, old man? What’s your thoughts?’

His tongue snaked out quick and wet his lips. Sammy had grown up on the streets and had toughened it out, surviving many fights and ambushes. He was cagey, yet it had been some time since he’d had to use those skills.

Whatcha gonna do?

He lurched forward to the left, but after two steps, he stutter-stepped then spun on his sneaker heals, to bolt back up the hill as fast as his arthritic joins would carry him. When he topped it, a fist caught him squarely in the nose and rocked him off his feet. He never saw it coming. Helplessly, he tumbled backwards and rolled along the street’s gutter.

When he came to a stop at the bottom, Sammy sputtered and spit blood as he laid panting heavily on his back. He moaned but held out a motioning hand in the air. “Wait! Wait please.”

His hand dropped down and rummaged in his jean’s pocket. He produced a faded tan leather wallet, thin and very used.

“I ain’t got much, mister, but it’s your’s,” he said as he waved it out. He kept his eyes squeezed shut.

However, no one took his wallet. Nothing was said. He didn’t hear dog or man.

“Look! It’s okay. I get it. But I didn’t see you, only your dogs. I can’t ID you. I wouldn’t. Hell, dude, who’s gonna believe an old drunk anyway. You take what I have, just don’t hurt me anymore, okay?”

Someone snapped their fingers.

Sammy heard the approach of soft patter of paws. The old man gulped and held brave to the thought he’d be alright. He’d be home soon, safe and relaxing in his comfy recliner and eating a microwave dinner in a quick hour. You’ll see. They’ll leave ya alone as you ain’t got nothin’.

He tried to ignore the painful sharp stings as their jaws clamped onto his wrists. As well, he didn’t resist as they dragged him toward the empty, shadowy alley. Inside the alley’s dark confines, more jaws snapped close upon his limbs.

Lord, I’ve been a good man for some time now. Please see me through this, he prayed inside. While he did have a strong faith, he also believed in the idea that the blessed be those who help themselves too.

He opened one eye then the other. The pack of dogs surrounded him, their hot breaths baked his skin. Their fur was spikey, greasy and matted with mud and feces. A rotted, fetid stench from their breath and bodies soured his stomach, nearly making him vomit. His arms and legs held aloft by two dogs each. They were keeping him down but hadn’t actually torn at him, only imprisoning him. The person who struck him on the street was nowhere in sight.

“What? Hello?” Sammy’s voice was shaky and shrill, pleading.

As an answer a massive jaw griped his thin throat, choking him. Trickles of blood droplets dripped to the dirty concrete beneath him.

A gravely yet smug voice called out from somewhere above Sammy. “Samuel Jeremiah Samuels. Born in 1948, survived a pair of ex-wives. Father to two sons who you haven’t spoken to in years. Retired as a building engineer when we all know you were just a glorified handyman. Now pitiful, broke and useless to all around him.” The voice droned on other trivial in the same masculine and judgmental tirade. A pair of slick, lime green boots slowly appeared next to his head. They were wet and caked in odd, slimy mud that smelled faintly fishy or maybe wormy.

“What do you want? Lemme go! You have no right to do this to me!” Sammy weakly gasped out from under the mane of the dog.

“Oh Sammy. Really going to go there? Deep down you know what’s happening. You know what I’m doing and why. It’s your Judgment Day. No right? No, sir, I have every right and from the day you first understood your ol’ mama’s words — she taught you that sins pile up and you’d one day have to atone.”

“Bullshit,” the weak dismissal didn’t have much strength behind it.

A flash of memory popped in Sammy’s head. It was of the Sunday, he’d been five years old and had been caught with his two friends trying to snake out dollar bills from the church’s tithe baskets while everyone was supposed to be in Sunday School. His Granny Josie had used a thin tree branch to deliver his punishment followed up with a fifteen-minute sermon on sinnin’ and doin’ the devil’s work. The Devil to Sammy became the worst of the world’s boogeymen to him, but the world had a multitude of monsters to keep him up at night. Whoever his attacker was, he was right about him, he knew what sinning was from an early age.

Another snap of fingers.

Excruciating pain filled Sammy. Every nerve inside shrieked with agony, muscles and skin tore, blood poured or fountained all about the alley. His screams were muffled and garbled by the penetrating fangs in his throat. His limbs flailed and writhed but were not released.

An orange aura of energy flowed over him, white flickering lightning bolts popped and lit up the alley. It blinded him so he couldn’t see much of the shadowy dark profile standing over him anyways.

“I can keep you like this as long as I want, Sammy. I won’t let you die, you see you cannot escape me so easily. You cannot outlast me either. It’s a new trick I picked up. This pain, this Rending of your soul, can last for eternity. I have brought your mama’s Hell to you!” the Dark Form laughed.

Then Sammy’s Granny Josie’s voice howled out of his mouth, “Sammy! Sammy, you stop livin’ like this, you be a good man. Those gangs are not for you. They pretendin’ to be your family. They usin’ you up and will throw you away just as easy! Stop your sinnin’!”

Those were the actual words she had used when she bailed him out the third time. The drive home had seemed torturous and infinite to him. But now… after she was long gone and buried, the words seemed like purity and wisdom. If only it hadn’t been another four years before he straightened up and wanted more in life.

The laughter continued as the pain ratcheted up. The dogs yanked and thrust all about, tearing his arms from the elbow joints first then the shoulders. His legs were severed at the ankles then gnawed apart at the knees.

The Dark Form’s words oozed into his ears, the menacing tone flooded him over the sounds of his screams and begging pleas for mercy. “This will all end, you’ll be forgiven if you only say the words. You only need to give everything to Her. Appeals for mercy are sweet and savory, but She demands more! Give Her all, follow what you are told. If you ask for Her name, I’ll give it to you and then you can be released. Can you do that, Sammy? Are you going to beg me for Her name and Her mercy?”

The jaws at his throat tightened further and crushed his windpipe. Blood poured up and out of his mouth, splattering his face and chest. His skull cracked hard on the concrete as it separated from his shoulders. Agony and fire filled his mind, consuming him.

“SAY IT, SAMMY! GIVE YOUR SOUL TO HER TO SAVE IT OR THE HOUNDS WILL TEAR YOU INTO HUNDREDS OF PIECES WHICH YOU WILL FEEL EACH AND EVERY BIT OF!” The Dark Form screeched in a mad frenzy.

As two hounds gnawed at his face and ears, pulling and stretching, Sammy gave in, he bent to Her will. TELL ME HER NAME, I AM HER’S. PLEASE STOP!!

The Dark Form complied.

It didn’t stop the relentless mauling right away.

Dogs were at his neck, drinking and lapping up his blood. Others were eating his intestines and finding other organ delicacies. His genitals were caught in a vicious three-way tug of war.

All of it, Samuel Jeremiah Samuels felt and heard in a suspended state of life.

The Dark Form snapped its fingers once more. The carnage came to a bloody, frothy end. The Rending ceased.

“Your life is over as you know it. Your life and oath are bound to us now. You will serve, but you will serve…” the sentence of damnation was paused then a single word was uttered. This time Sammy felt it rather than heard.

“Whole.”

Sammy laid unconscious, breathing shallowly in the dirt of the alley for a few hours behind the garbage bins. Eventually, he sat up and looked around him. He was alone. No dog or man. He absently scratched at his temple, stood and hugged his arms to his chest. It was still cold that early Philadelphia morning as he made the rest of his trip home.

OUR NEWEST HORROR NOVEL HAS BEEN RELEASED!! THE HIDDEN WITHIN — DEREK BARTON – 2022

General

….You aren’t who they say you are. Show your true nature and you’ll be free….

Makenzie’s life had been going so well until a horrific car accident left her with severe head trauma. Now recovering, she begins to lash out with violence. Her actions put herself and those around her in danger, forcing Makenzie to be committed for additional treatment.

Held for observation, she begins to discover a world that should not exist. One of bloody fantasies, dark obsessions, and homicidal cravings.

Torn between worlds, Makenzie must make the ultimate decision. She can either stand and fight for her humanity or run deeper into the night of razor-sharp claws and bloody fangs!

Get your copy today on Amazon or Kindle!!

THE HIDDEN WITHIN – Chapter #1 Excerpt — Derek Barton – 2022

New Content

Hello everyone! I hope the New Year has already been treating you better than 2020 & 2021!!

Here is Chapter 1 from the new novel, The Hidden Within written by my father, T.D. Barton and I. This is the upcoming sequel to The Hidden from 2017. We sincerely hope you enjoy it. The full novel will be out in a couple months so keep your eyes open for it!!!

CHAPTER ONE

Throbbing, pounding pain split Makenzie’s skull and a gnawing hunger roiled her guts. She was running noiselessly along a path through a wooded expanse. Driven by an irresistible urge that she did not understand, but had no desire to resist, she forged ahead at a breakneck pace. At last, she paused and sniffed the heavy night air, pungent with the scent of rotting plants and vegetation lining the forest floor. Ahead she sensed the mordant smell of human flesh, coated enticingly with a sheen of sweat brought on by fear and exertion. Her prey was straining to escape, running, and stumbling blindly amongst the trees, crashing loudly through the underbrush.

While paused, she looked down at her hands and stared at the long, black claws that glistened in the moonlight at the ends of her shaggy fingers. With a snarl she brought them up and scratched at her fur-covered belly. From deep within, she felt a blood-chilling howl building up, swelling the walls of her throat. She was no longer Makenzie; she was something else. Something not human but dangerously primeval—savage and powerful. The thing tilted its head back straightened its neck and let go. Rumbling out into the night, the ghastly sound reverberated among the trees and dense foliage of the forest. When at last it died down, the sound of the various denizens of the dark had been silenced. An eerie quiet had settled in and not one cricket or tree frog dared to be the first to break that silence. Finally, a lone owl hooted in the distance and the sounds of the night resumed. Chuffing out a hot breath, the beast started running again. Soon she would overtake her victim and its blood would course hotly down her throat.

From far above in the night sky, she looked down at herself and the young man who staggered along a few yards before. Dimly Makenzie was becoming aware that this was not real. Another fierce nightmare was dragging her against her will through a primordial wood in the form of a beast, primitive and feral.

Shay-rah… Shay-rah… the name seemed to whisper on a breeze through the branches. But when the beast cocked its long ears forward, twitching them back and forth, she realized the whispers came from within her own mind.

Silently she prayed that she would not wake up. This time please let her catch her prey. She lusted for the taste of his flesh. Not yet, she was almost there… almost… there… almost…..

The world was a shit-brown smudge, smeared across her field of vision. Makenzie wanted to shake her head to clear it, but she found she couldn’t move, wanted to bring her balled fists to her eyes and wipe away whatever this film was that blocked her sight. But her arms lay limp and unresponsive by her side.

Groggy and frighteningly confused, she tried to call out for help; but only a strangled, weak mewling sound escaped her throat. She licked her lips and blinked rapidly. Her breathing was slow and sluggish as she drew in great gasps and released them with a shutter.

Slowly a wavering shadow began to coalesce above her and, as she continued to blink and roll her eyes, the image of a face appeared, still very fuzzy in outline but nonetheless recognizable as that of a man. Her own face scrunched up into a scowl of fear and loathing and she squirmed against the restraints that held her pinned like a specimen beneath a microscope.

It dawned on her that the man was saying something. The voice drifted in from far away and she struggled to understand the words. It sounded like “Offend me….offend me….mistake us.” The ringing in her ears was so strong as to overwhelm any sound from the outside and she felt her head would explode. No, not offend me, not that….it was… Makenzie.

That’s it: Makenzie. Yes, Makenzie….and then Ms. Jacobs. It was a name. Her name. Yes, her name was Makenzie Jacobs. Always had been. So there, that solves that. This man hovering his round black face over her was calling her name. Okay, so now she could go back to sleep. She closed her tired eyes and began to nod off.

But the man wasn’t through. His hands grasped her arms on both sides, and he shook her, gently at first and then with a more firm and aggressive urgency.

“Ms. Jacobs, can you hear me?” he said and this time she could understand his voice more clearly. He looked away and Makenzie stared up at his stubbly chin, noticing the cleft at the point of it. She fixated on it for a moment, watching it bob and weave as he seemed to be talking to someone off to the side.

“Bring her some water, I think she’s coming around,” he said. And a female voice replied in the affirmative. “Yes, doctor,” the woman said, and footsteps echoed across Makenzie’s consciousness.

The doctor looked down at her again and his face seemed genuinely concerned, but, true to his profession, he maintained a certain aloofness, so as not to become too involved. She was merely a patient, not a person.

“You’ve been given a shot to revive you and your head should begin to clear very soon, he said. “Just try to remain calm and relax.” Makenzie thought she detected a slight Jamaican accent in his voice.

“Can you talk? Do you know where you are?”

She wrinkled her brow and coughed dryly. Try as she might, she had no recollection of where she was or what had brought her here.

All she could recall was her name and the name brought her no sense of satisfaction, as though she should be ashamed of the person it represented. Why should she be repelled by her own name? Who is Makenzie Jacobs and why was she here? Dimly she seemed to recall another name. It was something else she used to answer to long ago… What did it mean? The name whispered around inside her mind and then was gone again.

The doctor scowled and peered intently into her eyes. His breath wafted by her nose, bringing a faint aroma of sage along with it. A hand suddenly appeared; the arm attached to it leading to a white sleeve which dissolved into a blur off to the left of her vision. It was a woman’s hand, and it held a plastic cup full of water, which was brought to her mouth. She gingerly sipped the cold water, and it blessedly soothed her parched lips and raspy mouth. After a short pause for breath, she raised her head for a deeper drink, and this loosened her knotted throat.

“I’m in a hospital,” she croaked. “Car crash…”

The doctor frowned and looked off to the side again. As he spoke to the woman Makenzie stared up at him and her attention this time was centered on a vein, an artery actually, which throbbed at the base of his throat. Again, she licked her lips, but this time not because of thirst, rather something else coursed through her, like the blood in his pulse. It was something more akin to hunger.

Or lust.

He looked down again and gave her a warm smile. The strange feeling faded away.

“Makenzie, the crash was a long while ago.” Do you remember?

She tried to set up but was still immobilized. Why was she restrained? Was she severely injured? Her mind flashed pictures of crunching metal and screeching tires and she remembered being tossed around like a ragdoll. The smell of burning gasoline seemed to fill her nostrils. Flashes of memory, disjointed and surreal, slammed through her mind. She saw glimpses of that night— swirling images that terrified her. It was more than she could handle. There was nothing there that Makenzie wanted to remember.

She screamed.

“It’s all right. It’s all right, you’re not hurt. Shhhh,” the doctor’s voice was soothing but firm. “You’re okay…okay. Please. Just relax.”

“Makenzie.”

She began to calm down, but still looked from side to side, bewildered, and upset.

“Makenzie.”

She looked the doctor in the face.

“Do you remember your parents? Their names?”

Gazing into the distance she stammered, woodenly, “J-Jillian? …. Carter?”

“Good. Very good. Jillian and Carter Jacobs.” He smiled, showing even white teeth, professionally capped.

“Ms. Jacobs, my name is Doctor Doakes. Your parents love you very much. And they’ve brought you to me, uh, to us to try to help you. Do you remember that?”

She knitted her brows. “The crash… it was…” Her voice trailed off.

“Yes, it was a terrible crash.” he said. “But that’s not why you are here.”

“Makenzie, you’ve been suffering from lapses…hallucinations…periods of violence and rage. Recently you were involved in an incident at your parents’ house. The fundraiser. Is…any of this coming back to you?”

Again, he searched her uncomprehending face. The girl had no idea what he was talking about.

“You hurt some people and the police had to be called. Mrs. Jacobs says that you have become increasingly irrational and impossible to deal with at home and they, well we all feel it would be good if you could spend some time here with us until we can sort out just what is going on with you.”

Makenzie jerked her head sideways in a bird-like fashion and looked out the window.

“No crash. Not a hospital,” she said, and her voice sounded flat, unemotional. Quite calm now, she looked back at Dr Doakes and in a voice dripping with sarcasm she said, “I’m in a nut-house. The fucking bitch has put me away.”

Slowly she shook her head from side to side.

“So, she got what she has always wanted. I’m out of the picture. No more embarrassing outbursts from crazy Makenzie. Senator Jacobs can bury her little girl, and no one will ever know. This is what she had planned all along. Well, it’s not going to happen, I can tell you that. For once, Jillian is not going to get her way.”

Suddenly she began straining against the straps which held her to the bed. She thrashed and squirmed like a demon unleashed. Her struggles became so violent that Dr. Doakes and his nurse, Kim both stepped back momentarily startled.

“Bullshit!” screamed the agitated young lady. “This is fucking bullshit! And she’s not going to get away with it!”

“Aaaaarrrr!” she screamed and as the screams began to trail off into wails of anger they started to sound almost like the howls of a wounded beast.

Frothing at the mouth, she balled her fists so tightly that her long nails began to slice deeply into her own palms, bringing forth rivulets of blood.

“I’ll kill her!” She howled. “Aaaaa-I’ll kill ‘em both! You can’t keep me here! Do you get that assholes? You can’t! I’ll fucking kill you all! Rip out your fucking throats! I will! You can’t stop me!”

Tightening his grip on her upper arms the doctor shot a meaningful glance at Nurse Kim, who turned and prepared a syringe. Returning to the struggling doctor she handed the sedative to him.

“Here we go again, Doctor,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “Here we go again.”

The Infernal Eternal — Derek Barton – 2021

New Content

Recently I have had a lot of luck and honor in getting my story submissions printed by the gaming magazine, Gamebook Zine. They are a specialized magazine printing in England that focus on “gamebooks” and the medieval fantasy genre. They printed two of the Flight Of The Dirithi sagas so far.

Gamebooks are primarily based on a Choose Your Own Adventure style of storytelling. I wanted to pay back their generous support by submitting my own gamebook. They have already read and accepted the story which will be in print around December! Not wanting you all to wait and since most of you probably wouldn’t have heard of the magazine, I thought I’d print my submission story here for your entertainment. For anyone who enjoys this style of storytelling, please check them out on Amazon — well worth the read!!

My story is not in the fantasy realm but more of a post-apocalyptic future romp. Enjoy!!

The INFERNAL ETERNAL

RULES & PLAYER SETUP:

Hello there, dear reader. You are about to join young Zack Anders, a budding YouTube Video Blogger on a unique adventure. What starts as a usual day of urban exploring on the outskirts of the city quickly turns into a bizarre, dangerous nightmare! He’ll need your street-smarts, some key decision-making, and a real stroke of good luck to survive.

WHAT YOU WILL NEED

Along with the story, you will need to have the CHARACTER SHEET (shown here), a pencil, scratch paper, and four six-sided dice. Zack has brought along some handy equipment in his duffle bag.

The first step is to roll for your SKILL CHECKS – STRENGTH, ATTACK, AGILITY, and finally your SPEED. Roll 4d6 subtract the lowest roll, add up the number. This decides your skills modifier. The modifier will dictate battle outcomes and other experiences.

3 – 9 +0 modifier

10 – 14 +1 modifier

15 – 16 +2 modifier

17 +3 modifier

18 +4 modifier

You have a total of 100 HEALTH POINTS for the adventure. You have a small, one-time First-Aid kit that will restore 25 HEALTH POINTS.

COMBAT SITUATIONS

1# Establish INITIATIVE to see who acts first by rolling 1d6 and adding SPEED modifier. Now compare your score to the opponent’s INITIATIVE. Whoever has the highest INITIATIVE goes first.

2# Attacks are then made by ROLLING 1D6 and adding your ATTACK modifier. Roll the opponent’s AGILITY to counterattack.

3# If your ATTACK roll is higher than your opponent’s AGILITY, your hit damage is 1d6 plus your STRENGTH modifier plus your current weapon or item modifier.

4# Subtract total damage from HEALTH POINTS.

5# Combat stops if you fall below 0 HEALTH POINTS, or all your opponents’ scores do. Otherwise repeat Steps 2#, 3#, 4# until a victor.

Combats must be completed as the creatures will always give chase and continue to attack until they are destroyed…or you are!

RANDOM WEAPONS YOU MAY FIND

Baseball Bat +2 damage per hit

Heavy Flashlight + 1 damage per hit

Iron Crowbar + 3 damage per hit

Letter Opener + 1 damage per hit

Metal Pipe + 4 damage per hit

Pocket Knife + 1 damage per hit

***********************************

INTRO:

The morning winter chill in the wind speeds up your pace through the deserted parking lot. Your red hoodie isn’t helping enough so you slip the hood over your head and stuff your hands deeper into its pockets.

Your cell vibrates in your jeans pocket. Gotta be Jordyn.

The display reads, HERE. WHERE YOU AT?

In the corner, the clock says 8:37 AM.

You’re late. It will take another ten minutes at least to meet her at the warehouse. And that’s if you jog!

You reply, ALMOST THERE. 5 MINS.

She’s anxious. In fact, she’s been busting to explore the place, ever since she learned of it from Jasper, a mutual online contact that found possible leads for you and her. With Jordyn, you have been doing a YouTube urban explorer channel for a year and a half.

Jordyn was in love with the mysterious back history of the warehouse that sat just inside the city limits. Supposedly once owned by the government, the building was leased out by several high-tech firms and military R&D groups. Three years ago, the building was suddenly sealed up and abandoned. However, it was going to take more than the barbwire-topped fences and chained door locks to keep them out and filming the inside of the sprawling, two-story structure.

As much as she was dying to go, you were suspicious. How many times did lame science-fiction movies start out with this very starting scenario? Urban myths always had a nugget of truth somewhere wrapped in all the fluff, right? Yet here you were jogging directly toward trouble.

The heavily wooded area around the warehouse has only one road leading up to the metal gate. Only twenty feet or so sat Jordyn’s baby blue VW Beetle.

What was she thinking?

They had planned to park a half-mile back then cautiously approach and scout the gate and guardhouse. They were even prepared to hike a half-mile through the surrounding woods and use bolt-cutters on the western fence in the cover of the maple trees.

However, it was all quiet. Her car and the guardhouse appeared empty.

Beyond the gate, you see a rusted metal door with a thick, pad-locked chair securing it. The bottom and top floor windows of the warehouse are boarded or have rusted grating.

Use your bolt-cutters and sneak across the yard to the door, turn to 11
Investigate the warehouse guard shack, turn to 22
Look inside Jordyn’s car to see why she didn’t wait, turn to 2

The faint smell of flowery perfume wafts over you as soon as you open the door. Jordyn.

You have known her most of your life since age five, meeting in school, hanging out at the skatepark, and making out a few times in this very car.

The two of you weren’t official yet you knew you were a couple. The “on again off again” relationship had strained things on occasion but for the present, both of you are content to be partners…friends. This time you wanted more, she was on a different page. You were patient and confident things would come around again.

Patience was your trademark. Quiet, concise with your words and a planner. It gained you respect among the small gaggle of other friends you and Jordyn shared.

You are jolted out of your thoughts when you see her black duffle bag on the passenger side floor. It was not her style to leave without her gear. You lower the driver-side visor, but nothing is stowed there – she has her keys on her.

The hair on the back of your neck raise. Your instincts are pressing you to run inside and find her. Find her NOW.

Go to the Guardhouse, turn to 22
Go to the warehouse door, turn to 11
Grab the duffle bag and look inside, turn to 27

It’s dark and dusty in the tiny room. A set of rickety metal stairs on the opposite wall leads to a metal door.

Faint light comes in from under the door. While there’s nothing in here to help you, your heart kicks up as you read the sign above the door. It says ROOFTOP ACCESS.

Your fear that it is locked is proven to be ridiculous as you step right through – it is in fact a magical portal.

Stumbling and unable to catch yourself, you fall and sprawl out on a dusty cement floor.

YOU IMMEDIATELY RECOGNIZE YOU’RE BACK IN THE WAREHOUSE STAIRWELL!! YOU’VE RETURNED TO REALITY.

Decide to go up or go down to find Jordyn, turn to 21
If you have Jordyn with you, CONGRATS you and the love of your life can escape and have a wondrous life together!

THE END, turn to 1

The clearing behind the cliffside quickly becomes overgrown and you soon find you have trekked into the woods off path. The thick maple tree canopy blocks out the light and it has gotten dark in this shadow-filled glade. Massive tree roots ripple below and above the ground causing you to trip and stumble.

As the hours pass and the sun sets you wander in circles and find yourself hopelessly lost!

In the cold late hours of the night, you put your back up against a tree trunk and close your eyes in exhaustion.

You never open your eyes again.

Try again to save Jordyn, turn to 21

You step into a small, tiled room. There are two elevator doors on the left.

In the corner beside a withered, dried-up plant you spot a corpse. Dust and cobwebs cover the desiccated skeletal remains, but it is clothed in a once-designer gray suit. An opened, empty suitcase remains clutched in his hands. Nothing is apparent to the man’s cause of death.

Suddenly a bell chime rings out followed by one of the elevator doors squealing as it creaks open, faint flickering light flashes from within the car.

The panel next to the door isn’t lit so you don’t know if it is going up or down.

If you enter the elevator, turn to 10

Through the dirty glass window, you can see the office is rather dark and filled with shadows. Upon entering you see that the floor is littered with paperwork overturned filing cabinets, and some thrown around desk drawers. Someone was very interested in finding something hidden within the small room.

You hear an odd popping sound coming from the floor, something under the papers. Tiny pea-green wisps of smoke rise around you. It smells like vinegar, bleach, and sulfur all mixed in big quantities.

Just as you decide to leave the room, the entire office shakes, and patches of the cement floor give way! A slow-acting acid is eating away at the floor!

Here you must roll 3d6 to determine the difficulty of avoiding falling into a hole. Then you roll 2d6 plus your AGILITY modifier to see if you successfully escape. If your AGILITY roll is higher than the difficulty score you succeed.

Success means you leaped to a ceiling brace in time as the patch of cement fell from beneath your feet. Luckily the bar holds your weight, and you swing over to land before the open door.

Failure means you weren’t fast enough and drop! You are able to grasp the sides of the hole and haul yourself back up buy your right leg was cut by a piece of cement rebar and you now have a gaping wound in your thigh. You lose 4 HEALTH POINTS and your SPEED is hampered -2 to any quick movements and combat initiative.

Explore the small west office, turn to 26
Open the door next to the west office, turn to 17
Investigate the stairwell, turn to 21

As you climb the cement steps, an electric sensation washes over you. Your skin prickles with goosebumps and the hair on your arms and head raise briefly. You spin around but don’t see any source of the odd charge in the air. Ahead of you is a door propped open with a small wooden wedge. Only a faded label saying RESEARCH mars the door’s surface.

Go through the door, turn to 20
Go to the lower level, turn to 13

Your eyes squeeze shut as you convulse and writhe from the burns. Pain wracks your body, your breath is taken away. All is slipping away fast.

Your throat chokes on the smoke as you scream out in denial.

Yet, you know this is the end and you have failed to save yourself and Jordyn.

THE END

Try again to save Jordyn, turn to 21

Finally! I’m getting out of here, you think to yourself as you rush inside.

The rusted floorboards crack and fall apart beneath your feet as your body bores through and plunges down the shaft.

Darkness swallows you up. The humid air in the shaft rushes past you. You feel the closeness of the shaft’s wall and you pull your arms in close to your sides to avoid bashing them as you descend.

The fall goes and on, you continue into the pitch black… It never ends.

THE END

Try again to save Jordyn, turn to 21

You squeeze through the twin fence gates that block the warehouse road’s entrance. No guards patrol the grounds, nor do you spot any dogs. Yet you feel eyes all over you, dread washes over you.

Jordyn.

Your feet answer the inner voice inside your head. She’s somewhere inside the ugly warehouse and she’s in trouble. Every nerve in your body feels raw and you feel a true fear of what she’s gotten herself into.

But I can’t leave you alone to fight this.

You cross the empty lot to the chained door. The links are too thick for your bolt-cutters. Luckily there’s a large bay of windows that only have a metal grate protecting them. They cut the metal like butter and in minutes you are able to snake your small frame inside.

A faint light illuminates the massive room. Blankets of dust and cobwebs cover everything. You spot a fresh set of footprints leading from another door along the west wall. The doorknob has been punched out. Must’ve been Jordyn’s point of entry. Her prints travel to a small office and then to another closed door.

There’s another office in the southern corner with a large glass window. Opposite it, you see the start to two sets of stairs, one going up and another into a basement level.

In the center sits banks of tables, desks, and wooden benches. Stacks of cardboard boxes rest against the eastern wall. An odd wispy cloud of smoke lazily wafts in the air, but you cannot see its source. The smoky air, the tomblike emptiness, and the muffled silence again heighten your fear for what might have happened to Jordyn.

Cross to the western office, turn to 26
Go inside the southern corner office, turn to 7
Look in the room where Jordyn’s footprints end, turn to 17
Go to the stairwell, turn to 21

The narrow path is surrounded on both sides by high brush, their branches are layered in vines keeping it nearly impossible to see around you. A series of chittering sounds and a chorus of humming insect trills fill your ears. The skies darken the further you travel the path.

Finally, you enter a large, manicured clearing. The grounds swell up and down with little mounds of grass, the path continues to a massive center fountain. All about the clearing are white statues of various characters from all sorts of historical time periods. Under each of the statues, you can see small metal tablets displaying details and facts of the statue personas.

You rest on the edge of the peaceful fountain, trying to get your bearings and figure out where you are and how to get back. However, your thoughts are interrupted when you smell smoke. Behind you at the other exit to the clearing stands another smoldering creature much taller than the other before and there are two doglike ones crouched at his feet. These two have much smaller bodies, darker, and less fiery mass. Their jaws, however, bristle with nasty spikey fangs.

“INTRUDER! TRESSPASSERS DIE!” The giant roars and charges.

Special After round 2 of combat you lose an extra point each round due to the heat from his body.

If you beat the Embergiant and his wolves, turn to 24
If you succumbed to their attacks, turn to 9

Squaring your shoulders and stiffening your back, you gather your resolve and walk down into the gloom of the lower-level stairs. There was a definite haunted, paranormal vibe resonating from the door at the bottom. A stenciled word BIOMETRICS LAB labeled the door. A black electrical box hung ominously over the top of the door.

It doesn’t appear to be operational…

Brave the shadows and open the lower-level door, turn to 28
Maybe up and into the light is better, turn to 8

Consciousness is a faint sliver, and you can barely breathe. Webs secure you tight and blind you to your surroundings.

It really doesn’t matter long for you soon feel a sharp pair of painful jolts in the back of your neck. The pain soon spreads down your back as the spider’s acidic bite destroys the nerves along your spine. You’re grateful for the quick numbing sensation as your nerves die and your muscles dissolve.

Your last thoughts are spewing curses at the spiders.

THE END

Try again to save Jordyn, turn to 21

The sound of splashing water grows stronger as you travel down a dirt path. The clusters of trees spread out as you enter a small park area, and the path winds its way up a hill. The sky is a faint baby blue color with few clouds. The tranquil area is the very definition of sanctuary.

On the top of the hill, you discover a massive fountain of blue and gray marble stone. The crystal-like water cascades out from a tall angel statue. Her eyes cry twin streams into the pool below her feet.

Lying in the wild grass blades, you see your angel, Jordyn. She is on her back, laying with her head propped up by her windbreaker, her arm thrown over her face. She’s seen her own troubles. Her hair is singed on one side of her head and her black concert shirt and jeans have multiple scorch marks.

You want to rush and sweep her in your arms, but you don’t want to scare her. You softly whistle a piece of a Def Tones song, you both love.

She immediately sits up and stares at you in shock and relief.

“Babe, I’ll get us home now,” you whisper to her.

Now, it’s her that rushes into your waiting arms and you hold her as she sobs. You promise aloud to her and yourself that you’ll never let her go again.

There’s no other entry to Fountain Hill, turn around, turn to 24

As you approach the door, an acrid smell stings your nose. When you pull it open the full power of the smell almost knocks you from your feet. This was once a simple bathroom but now the majority of the room has a massive, gaping hole. Gray-green clouds plume from the hole and you can see spots on the cement floor where the acidic vapor has caused the stone to bubble and crack.

You quickly shut the door, your eyes have already started to sting.

What the hell did they do here? And where was Jordyn? Could she have fallen through the floor?

Explore the southern corner office, turn to 7
Investigate the small west office, turn to 26
Climb up or down the stairs, turn to 21

You pull on the center drawer finding only more papers and a few partially written in notebooks. They must’ve belonged to the man, J.C. Carver. None of the notes and scribbles made much sense or even explaining what really happened in this warehouse. A sharp gold-plated letter opener has been shoved to the back of the drawer.

When you tug on the handle of the bottom drawer you discover it is locked. Now that’s interesting…

You open your backpack to retrieve a crowbar you carry just for this reason or to open locked doors. The drawer popped relatively easily.

At the bottom, a small metal box sat next to a slender bottle of whiskey. Inside the box, you find a square digital tablet. Under it was a coil of black charger cable with a USB adapter. The tablet wouldn’t turn on but who knows how long the thing had been there or even if it would operate.

Instinctively you pocket the item certain you’d gleam information later.

Go to the door next to the office, turn to 17
Explore the southern office, turn to 7
Cross to the stairwell, turn to 21

The room is pitch black, so you retrieve your cell phone to use its flashlight feature. Ahead are several large tables and metal chairs. Along one wall are vending machines and a counter with several microwaves.

You hear a raspy movement in the shadows at the back of the obvious cafeteria. Inside a walled-off kitchen area, low, gurgling moans echo out to you. A thin metal door pushes open as two forms come through. A man severed at the waist stalks forward on his arms. His gory entrails slide along behind leaving a bloody smear. Right next to him a woman sheared in half from head to groin pulls herself along the kitchen’s tiles. A sick toothy half-smile stretches across her half face.

Two other disgusting butchered torsos follow the first two!

If you go below 0 HEALTHPOINTS, turn to 29

When you push the upper floor door aside you are dumbstruck by what you find laid out before you. A circular cement court encircles an overgrown patch of grass with a brown stagnant pond. Six stone benches line up on one side of the pond. A cloudy gray sky with rolling clouds of low-hanging smoke presses down over you.

Where the hell did the roof go? Your mind shouts.

Leaving the stairwell, you walk around the corner and find you are not inside the warehouse any longer. There are still maple trees clustered about the property but no roads, no parking lots, no city backgrounds at all along the horizon.

“I’m in a park,” you mutter to yourself.

As you pass a stone column that holds a glass orb, you spot a man, sitting slightly hunched over on another of the stone benches, this one facing an engraved mural wall. He’s smoldering, his body glowing like charcoal embers inside a barbecue grill. An aura of faint wispy smoke surrounds him.

His head turns towards you. The eyes are small fiery pits, and he has no tongue as he roars and hisses upon seeing you. He…or it…leaps to its feet. The body has a molten mass of embers attached to a skeletal frame with hands and feet ending in nasty claws.

It races and bounds over several other benches, showing it is not limited in its physical skills, and swipes a heavy-handed claw at your head.

Special — After round 2 of combat, you lose an extra point due to the heat from his body.

If you fall below 0 with your injuries, turn to 9
If you beat the Emberman, turn to 12

Twin sets of gray stone stairs are here, one going to the upper level, the other to a lower, darker level. The overhead lights are burnt out for the lower level, but you see a door with a tiny window slot at the bottom. It’s pitch black on the other side of that door.

Laying against the first step to the upper level you see a rusty steel bar. There’s also an overturned trashcan in the corner, but nothing else catches your attention.

Grab the metal bar.

Climb to the upper level of the warehouse, turn to 8
Make your way down the stairs to the basement level, turn to 13

The short, stubby rectangle that pretends to be the wooden guardhouse, leans slightly, pressed by some of the intense thunderstorms that rage sometimes through the region. It has a faint musty smell, and everything is layered in thick dust and cobwebs. One corner has been repeatedly drenched by a leak in the roof and the boards and rotted mostly away.

There’s nothing of any use here and no one has used this guard shack in some time. In the only drawer in a gray metal cabinet near the door, you see a small ring of keys and a long-handle flashlight.

You sweep up the keys and flashlight.

Go to the Warehouse, turn to 11
Explore Jordyn’s car, turn to 2

From the EXIT door, you walk along a dusty bare hallway that leads into the center aisle of a massive room. On both sides of the room are clusters of office cubicles.

The room isn’t lit well, but it seems some of the cubicles must have monitors still powered on. A faint bluish glow illuminates from these monitors. You thought for sure all power had been cut.

Nothing else about the cubicle farm seems familiar as everything is covered in white sheets or perhaps paint drop clothes you suppose. The ceiling is a mass of party streamers. On the other end of the massive room, you see a closed set of double doors and on the right side of the room, another hallway continues further into the business skyscraper. On the left wall, broken windows allow chill flurries to blow in.

As you pass along the center aisle you spot movement, shadowy forms moving fast in and out of the cubicles. In fact, you now realize the monitors are themselves moving. Loud hisses echo about the office all around you.

Five massive blue glowing spiders leap over the walls of the cubicles in front of you. Their bulging black eyes have reddish ichor leaking in gooey streams. Their fangs glisten as the spiders hiss and approach!

Special — six successful hits means you are bound in webs!

Take the double doors on the left, turn to 33
Take the hallway on the northside, turn to 25
Fall unconscious or bound in web, turn to 15

You crest a short knoll and enter a shallow valley. At the bottom is a cement oval stage with a massive mural carved out a rock cliffside. Several cement benches are placed in a semi-circle around the stage.

The now unused concert area is peaceful enough, but you don’t find anything of value or use either.

The mural depicts a sprawling modern city in the throes of a battle and unusual lightning storms in the skies. The very fabric of reality in the carving depicts tears and massive rifts.

You wonder what the meaning of the mural is and if somehow it depicts some of the dark secrets of the warehouse.

At the edge of the left side of the stage, you see a thin gravel path. And as you continue to study the mural you swear you can hear the sound of a creek or at least the sound of water splashing somewhere.

Take the gravel path, turn to 34
Climbing to the top of the cliffside, you find a clearing heading eastward, turn to 5
Follow the splashing sound, turn to 16

Another set of double doors open slowly, but you have to work hard to shove them open as a pile of garbage has barricaded the entrance. To your left is an archway opening to a small elevator lobby.

All around the room the walls have a massive mound of desks, computers, chairs, monitors, and even headphones. You surmise it was once a call center setup. The only thing not piled along the square room’s wall is a steel grate with wall-to-floor monitors.

Partially buried on the opposite wall of this large room is another door with a small sliver of a window. It’s too dark in the other room to see anything.

Glowing firelight beams down from the ceiling behind the monitor grating. This light moves like the glowing blue light from the spiders! This light surrounds the thick bodies of bat-like creatures. They share the same physiology as the Embermen and you duck as they fly over your head. Globs of ember plop down in little emberballs of fire.

Special — Roll 1d6 to determine how many Fireglobs fall during combat. Next roll 2d6 to know the AGILITY difficulty score needed to avoid them. Failure means losing 3 HEALTH POINTS each.

Go to the elevator lobby, turn to 6
If your burns and claw attacks make you fall unconscious, turn to 9
Dig out the door buried by trash, turn to 19

You crack open the wooden door to the office. A large desk sits in front of three massive file cabinets. On the desk sits a scribbled-on desk blotter and calendar next to a tiny crystalline trophy engraved with the name J. C. CARVER, Director’s Award.

This office is cramped and poorly lit with a series of fluorescent bulbs. There are no windows.

The cabinet drawers are open but hold only empty folders. A center drawer remains open and holds only pencils, pens, and a pile of paperclips. On one edge you note the dust has been wiped off. You smirk at the small butt cheek prints in the dust. Jordyn must have explored in here, sat on the desk when she texted me.

Go to the next room where her trail ends, turn to 17
Trek over to the southern corner office, turn to 7
Explore the stairwell, turn to 21
Look inside the desk, turn to 18

You lean inside and sweep up the duffle bag from the floor. It’s slightly heavy with the equipment she was responsible to bring. Unzipping it, you see as expected her extra Samsung video camera, the Veckta Spirit Box, a coil of extension cord, several packs of batteries, and a backup cell phone battery. You also spot a crumpled pack of smokes and a lighter.

Damn. She swore she quit.

You take out the cigarettes and throw them in the brush next to the car. You zip up the bag and take it with you. It’s time to get moving!

Go to the warehouse, turn to 11
Explore the guard shack, turn to 22

You hold your breath as you walk under the black box. Nothing happened. Obviously, electricity no longer powered the building. You smirk at your paranoia as you shove open the door.

From the pitch dark, an earthy cool breeze swept over you. You raise your cell phone flashlight to burn away the darkness. Office desks are before you, covered with dust, debris, and broken glass. On the far side of the room, you see a series of broken windows where wind gusts inside. Your eyes bulge as you spot a wall of mirrored windows. It’s a close skyscraper with a broken bank logo and electric sign which hangs partially off the side of the building. Other city buildings stand silhouetted against the early dawn horizon.

What in the Nine Hells? Your mind screams.

Spinning around, you see what you already somehow knew, the Biometrics door was gone, and you are standing in the center of a long-ago abandoned business. This was as far from a science lab as you could get.

In the gloom ahead you find a metal door marked EXIT.

Run to the EXIT, turn to 23

You fall unconscious onto the floor.

When you next wake, you feel many hands lift you and place your naked body onto a cold steel table.

You begin to scream in pure terror when you hear a mechanical sawing sound start up and echo off the kitchen walls.

You are to become the newest torso zombie!

THE END

Try again to save Jordyn, turn to 21

Icy rain pelts you and several inches of murky water cover your tennis shoes. Overturned desks, metal pails of office garbage, and rotting softback computer chairs float around a massive wooden table. A terrible thunderstorm rages outside and floods the once elaborate meeting room through more broken windows.

Just as you decide to turn around you spot a set of curved scimitar swords with a tower shield decorating the back wall. This could definitely help you in any encounters. Next to the shield is a single door standing partially open.

Halfway across the room, your trek is rudely interrupted as a murder of massive man-size crows land on the broken window sills. Their hollow eye sockets seem to stare ominously at you, their raging ember-bodies glow with the inner fires.

The flock fly as one, claws raised to cut you in ribbons as short tongues of fire erupt from their beaks.

When each bird is brought below 0 HEALTH POINTS they fly into their attacker and explode causing an extra 7 points of damage.

Take the door near the shield, turn to 3
The crows get the best of you and your HEALTH POINTS go below 0, turn to 9

A hunger pang strikes you as you make your way out from around a cluster of maples. Ahead you are amazed to encounter a wide tunnel opening. Thick emerald moss and purple vines carpet the exterior and drape down from the ceiling. No light breaches the tunnel’s murky interior. An occasional chittering sound echoes from inside but otherwise, it’s as silent as a tomb.

A familiar Avenged Sevenfold ring tone blares to life from inside! That’s Jordyn’s cell phone!

Without hesitation, you pluck out your own phone and use the flashlight as you plunge into the dark confines of the tunnel.

Thirty or so yards inside, everything changes. Faint light of unknown origin displays how the ground is layered in soft white pillowy webs, the walls are now covered in blankets of hanging webs, and the back exit is hidden under an extensive nest of human shape lumps, piles of garbage, animal carcasses, and the rushing swarm of angry, bluish glowing spiders.

As you prepare for the fight of your life, your eyes dart around trying to see where her cell might be and you pray she isn’t here with it!