12 MONTHS OF HELL & HORROR! – Derek Barton – 2020


I have just created and submitted a new one-of-a-kind 2021 Calendar/Day Planner & Horror Story Collection — It’s called 12 Months of Hell & Horror!

Yeah, I was inspired by the twelve months of hell & horror we went through this year!

Inside you’ll find 6 short stories with original illustrations by my father, T.D. Barton. You will also have 365-day journal pages as well as 12 calendar pages with an Important Day Notes section.

It will be available within a day or two on Amazon for only $11.99!! It will make a great gift for you or any reader you know. BUY NOW to keep organized and thrilled for the entire coming year!!

Got A New Smile — Derek Barton – 2020

I wanted to check in with everyone and advise you of my current projects I’m working on.

NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) Challenge was a big help and success for me this year! I used it to help me get Evade Part III written, edited, and soon to be published by the end of the year!!

Evade Part II has been produced and sent in to Audible.com for their final approve to sell the audiobook probably by the end of December.

I am also working on a secret side project — hope to have more news on that before the end of the year. Check back here for more information!

I’m back to reworking the outline for the third Wyvernshield Series book. Been a very rough year for everyone and I certainly have felt it — the first time in six years that I had a serious snag in my motivation as well as production. Anyway, it appears that this has eased up and I’m ready to create once again.

I have decided to have one new goal: for a whole year, I want to write 400 words every day. Now, I won’t say this will be in stone or that I can reach the small goal every day, but it does give me a minimum to obtain. In other words, it will be easier to say to myself, “C’mon…It’s only 400 words. Stop being lazy, you can do this easy!”

By the end of one year, it totals to over 124,000 words (I am basing this on six out of seven days reaching 400 words). So for a nice kickstart to this, I wrote tonight 1,108.

Thank you all for your support and your fantastic energy which helps fuel my work! Got a lot more horror to share…

Writing Prompt #2 — Glimpses — Derek Barton – 2020

WP 2 Blog

The echoes of a Jackson Ross’ heartbeats overwhelmed all the other noises in the crampt van. The beeps, whines and tones from all the machinery and technology were trumped by the recording of his heartbeat.

Jackson sat in the center of the van in a whirlwind of agents, technicians and scientists. They were prepping him with multiple cameras, recording gadgets and monitor devices. Yet he was dimly aware of their presence and the chaos of the experiment preparations. He didn’t care what they were doing. Their efforts mattered only to them and “their groundbreaking steps for crime solving and justice”.

He, however, was swallowed up by the sounds of his heart beating. It snared his attention and captured his focus as he was getting closer to the answers. Closer than he had ever gotten. His pulse increased as his thoughts raced. His nerves were strained, the pressure to find her was intense.

Am I going to finally get a reason?  Will this be enough to nail the bastard? Can they really resolve her murder? Or maybe find where he hid her?

“Jackson, I’m going to patch…” The voice faded. “Jackson? Jackson, are you okay?”

He slowly raised his head and met her gaze.

“You with us?” Dr. Laura Morrison asked him. She was a tall, white woman with silvery hair. She was also the Project Lead for the Glimpses Endeavor.

“Yes. Sorry. I’m–a bit overwhelmed, that’s all.” He tried to loosen up and rolled his shoulders.

“To be expected,” she nodded. “I’m going to patch you into the main feed then we’ll work on the other extension feeds, okay? Just need you to sit up straight.”

He gave her a thumbs up but stared down at himself. His face a mix of amusement and shock. He had a black, padded shirt with series of electronic sensors along his chest and down his sleeves that ended at the wrists and his mesh-gloved hands. Glowing blue light emitters were attached to his fingertips and small silver plates were sewn into the palms. A visor-like cap crowned his head. More monitor feed lines extended down the back from it and plugged into a battery backpack on his shoulders.

Laura secured sensitive headphones over his ears. She lifted the lapel of her ray lab oat and spoke into a microphone, testing the connection.

“You are nearly set to go.” Her voice piped into his ears.

“I kind of feel like I’m about to walk into space versus an old, rundown house.”

“I bet,” she chuckled. “However, all these sensors and such are going to be critical. Especially if you find damning evidence, the lawyers will need all the facts and reports they can in order to prove this science and use it to convict others like your father.”

He was three on the night of February 26th, 2020. That night seventeen drawn-out years ago she disappeared from his life forever. Leaving him seventeen years of doubt, accusations, false leads, rumor and cycles of foster home rotations.

Since then his mother’s disappearance had become fodder for every network and cable crime series.

Hardest of all for him to accept was the simple fact that Gerald “Jerry” Ross killed his mother, Marissa Ross, and somehow he hid her body and escaped prosecution. It was a pop culture fact. It was a tale of injustice. A story of tragedy everyone knew. He was haunted by her memory and fate.

So when the founders of the Glimpses Endeavor came to him and spelled out what they could do and what they wanted to accomplish, he clutched at it. A last desperate attempt to learn the truth and put her soul to rest.

Jerry Ross currently resided in Oaks General Hospital in a coma. He wasn’t expected to survive the month due to a complicated series of strokes.

Jerry maintained and insisted incessantly he was not a murderer and did not know what had happened to his wife. In the beginning, he would even say on the television interviews how much he loved and missed her. It all rang false and fell flat. Especially when all the hospital records came to light, records of her life of domestic abuse.

With a final tug on three cables by one of her tech assistants and a twist to a nob on the backpack, Laura said, “Okay champ. It’s time.”

The doctor then handed him a digital set of glasses. A pulsing hum came from the hardware on his back as the glassware lit up in front of his eyes. Information streamed along the bottom of the lenses while temperature stats and Electrical Magnetic Field voltage appeared in the corner of the left lens.

“We’re gonna lead you in, but the door has been unlocked and the house scouted. Once inside we’ll view everything you see with these glasses. The programs will feed anything picked up by the spectral or ethereal monitors as well as the ultraviolet thermals.”

He could already see her form in heat radiants of bright orange to deep red. If he blinked twice with the right eye it would switch to ethereal and once again it would switch to spectral colors. “Alright, I’m ready. Seventeen years waiting.”

Five minutes later, the tech intern, turned on the overhead light to the foyer and closed a rickety door behind him without a word.

He breathed in and out, getting his bearings and settling his nerves as best as he could. He went over the plan for the experiment one more time. First, go dark in order to allow the night vision camera feed to register and allow him to navigate in the darkness. Should any entity reside in the house, it would be easier for the system feeds to pick it out. Second, he would slowly explore the first level of the house before going upstairs to the master bedroom.

For eons it was theorized that “walls stored evil” or some places absorbed horrific events. The hope of the Glimpses Endeavor was to use a pulsing Electronic Magnetic Field generator to draw out the captured moments. The modified generator produced and distorted a constant stream of EMF waves and when they returned it would read them like a sonic call bouncing back to a bat.

Through the paranormal feeds and the silver ethereal nodes attached to his palms, it was hoped he would also be able to see and record any entities existing in the spectral fields or ethereal dimensions. The system on his back retrieved all these feeds and readings at once in order to provide a generated “glimpse” and display it in his lenses.

Of course he didn’t understand how any of it worked. He only wanted a view of history.

A glimpse of murder.

He leaned over and switched the foyer light off. In seconds, the room illuminated within his glasses. No true sources of heat were displayed as the house had been empty since Jerry’s hospital stay. Everything was outlined with an eerie blue aura.

Jackson knew the layout of the house which remained as familiar and intimate as touching the features of his own face. The pulsing hum from the backpack increased and snowy wave of green lit particles extended from him like a ripple in a pond.

He walked toward the kitchen, his father’s favorite place. When he entered a soft tone alerted him the Glimpse system picked something up. In seconds a figure stood kneeling by the kitchen stove. The figure was not entirely clear but by the size and posture he guessed it to be Jerry.

Dammit! That’s not clear enough to use in any court as evidence! Is this a waste of time after all? 

After several waves of EMF, the figure grew more defined and detailed as the figure worked around the room. Jackson found he did eventually recognize his father. Clearly younger in appearance as he was in year 2020. The only time Jerry was at peace and ease with himself was when he cooked. Another tone made Jackson leap a little as another two forms came into view in the kitchen doorway. One small form broke off to go to the table and climbed onto a chair.

This is so surreal! As close to time travel we will probably ever get!

“I hope that beer can is just from flavoring the chicken, Jerry.” The voice was rich, smooth, feminine. It had been so long since he heard his mother’s voice that he wasn’t sure if he really knew it.

“Don’t start,” Jerry snapped back. Jackson immediately recognized the cigarette-strained timber of his father’s voice.

She started shouting.”I cannot–“

“Babe! I have good news!” he insisted. “My old pal Kendall is going to be released next week. He’s already got a tip on a job in Memphis. He’s promised to hook me up.”

The figures blurred and winked out.

“What? What happened there, Laura?” Jackson called out, hoping their system wasn’t glitching.

“Not all the glimpses will be complete or thorough.”

He frowned unsatisfied.

Nothing appeared or continued in the kitchen so he went back down the hall to the stairwell to the bedrooms on the second floor.

Halfway up, his mother appeared a foot before his face. “YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!  YOU PROMISED NO MORE CRIME–” Her wispy figure shot backwards onto the steps behind her. She sprawled, holding a hand to her left cheek and stared in fright at Jackson. It wasn’t him she was seeing but his father who had often “put you in your place” with his hands. Sometimes he had used belts. Jackson winced as he remembered the sting of those leather straps.

The repeated emergency room visits were often the reason that Jerry was so hated and crucified in the press. He was an ugly human being — Jackson couldn’t make him pay for her suffering but at least now he hoped the glimpse would lead him to her remains to put her at rest.

Her figure winked out once again. “Proceeding upstairs to the bedroom,” he muttered.

His stomach tightened and flipped with his anxiety. The bedroom was the murder scene. Every investigation pointed to it. There were traces of blood and a broken shard of tooth found in the initial investigation years ago. Pieces of furniture were marred with scratches and one wall was dented in. Clearly signs of some sort of physical struggle.

Jackson hesitated as he stepped into the doorway. He held his breath. It was now or never he assumed.

Pulses of EMF drew out and across the room.


Several minutes passed.

After all these years, you are going to go to your grave and get away with it, aren’t you, you sick fuck. Jackson gripped the sides of the doorframe, tears slipping down his cheeks. He just wanted to put her in a grave. Was this so much to ask?

“Mummy… Mummy?” A whimper and cry came from behind him.

Two alert beeps rang out in the pitch dark. His mother appeared running toward him at the door while her father’s form chased after her. He was shouting. “I’m sorry. SO SORRY, MARISSA! Please calm–“

His mother’s form bolted through Jackson. The dead cold was bitter and bit down through to the bone. Jackson spun around in time to spot a small toddler climbing the last of the steps just as his mother crashed and flipped over his little form with a shriek.  His mother crumpled into an abnormal position at the base of the stairs.

Everyone popped away again, leaving him alone in the dark.

Laura gasped in his ear. Then she whispered, “Jackson….Jackson! Oh my god, you killed her! Dear lord, she died after all by accident.”

He lowered himself to the threadbare carpet and leaned against the wall in the hall.

It made sense now. His father and mother had a nasty argument and tumble in the bedroom which accounted for the crime scene evidence. Nothing about that night had ever come back to him. The psyches always said he had blocked the trauma after obviously seeing his father murder his mother. But it was her fall he blocked out. His part in her death.

And his father had known he’d face charges and prison time for the assault leading to the accident. The chain of events were enough for a good prosecutor to get manslaughter if not more. Jerry wouldn’t take the chance.

Then where? Where is her body? 

He rubbed hard at his temples then wiped at the back of his neck. Goosebumps prickled his skin still as it was cold in the old house. His breath pluming out in an spooky green fog.

“Oh Jackson, does it so matter?” The voice was clear — rich and smooth. His head shot up to see Marissa standing before him. Her spectral form glowing a soft pale green.

Mom?  The words failed to escape his lips.

“Don’t you see, Jackie? I’m at peace. It’s not important for me to be placed in a patch of ground to be in happiness. What I truly need is for your happiness.”

More tears escaped him and dripped to his chest. Laura’s own faint sobs were captured by the microphone.

“This was never your fault and it wasn’t what your father intended to happened either. It was a tragic accident.  I want you to move on. LIVE! Stop dwelling in the past and on hate for your father. Go be happy and live for me!”


Three weeks after the Glimpse Endeavor, Jerry Ross died. In his will, he left instructions where her ashes were hidden. In the end, he remained completely selfish. There was no note of confession or even remorse, only a set of GPS coordinates.

Jerry never did right by his wife, but in the end, he wanted the same thing Jackson’s mother wanted…closure for their son.

Writing Prompt: Whatever building you enter, you can see all of the people who died there.  

Provided by Written Word Media

IN FOUR DAYS: Horror Suspense Novella… Now on Sale!!!

My newest work, In Four Days:  Horror Suspense Novella is now on Amazon Books and Kindle!


Mysterious disappearances suddenly plague the Philadelphia area. A demonic force with an unending appetite hunts its streets and collects lost souls as trophies.

A young accountant encounters an unrelenting stalker and details her terror upon the internet…

A troubled youth finds that even with new surroundings your troubles can still burn you…

A cab driver with ties to European organized crime soon regrets his own violent actions…

And a pair of brothers with a deep secret plunge into an abyss that threatens to swallow them whole.

IN FOUR DAYS is a collection of chilling stories of intense dread, buried dirty secrets and twisted fates that will leave you guessing up to the very end!

*** Includes bonus short story, SEYDE IN BLOOD (Prequel to Consequences Within Chaos)***


Get your copy now and let me know what you thought of it on Amazon Book Reviews!

In Four Days…(part 4)



I woke up late this afternoon; of course from a nightmare.  Or am I still in the nightmare?  Things are blurring together now and I don’t know if I can tell what’s real any more.

When I popped open my laptop, this message nearly stopped my heart:


blog-pic-14First of the Year’s Snowstorms Expected to Cripple Philadelpha

A massive snowstorm that has devastated the city of Halifax, Nova Scotia and most of the state of Maine is now heading for the Northeast U.S. Coast.  This storm is expected to break all-time snowfall records for Pennsylvania – Philadelphia (14.8 inches), Pittsburg (13.1 inches) and Scranton (13.8 inches).  Many residents have been advised of an emergency curfew and restricted to their homes and off of roads.  Officials fear for extensive power outages up and down the coastlines. 


Every light and lamp I own has been plugged in and turned on in my tiny bedroom.  My four somewhat used and somewhat sharp kitchen knives are laid out on my bed.  The .380 pistol my brother in New Jersey bought me lays in my lap like a pet, a twisted replacement for Rayray.

The coffee table gave up its life to be nailed into the wall and placed across the window.  The doors are all locked.

My thoughts race around the last line of the article.  Officials fear for extensive power outages…

Deep down, I don’t believe any of this will be enough to stop him.  He’s coming.  I don’t know why or what he wants.  But… this is the fourth day!

It has snowed all night so far.   Worst case scenario would be if the pow

Taken and reposted from Amara Rico’s Facebook Page – January 29th, 2016

The above posts from Rosalina Rico were the last entries on my sister’s laptop.  A welfare check made on January 25th by the local authorities found her apartment door open; snow and mud covered a lot of the living room.  It seems that the door had been open during most of the three-day storm.

One officer at the scene relayed to me that they did find three bullet holes in one of her bedroom walls.

Her family prays for her safety and requests any help or information you can give.

Please call 1-888-772-6600 — 24 hour hotline.

In Four Days…(part 3)





Last night, my nerves got the best of me so I took Rayray out of the apartment and we rode into town.  I wanted to be with people and in the public view.  

I had been wracking my head trying to figure out what was happening.  Was this just some creep with a flair for theatrics?  Was this something worse?  Or could I be having a breakdown of sorts?  

I needed to know and I had this sinking feeling that time was running out for me. Nothing on the internet had given me any clue of what I am dealing with.  

On the freeway we encountered a huge traffic jam.  While it delayed us for about an hour, being surrounded by a dozen or so cars crammed with people helped and I felt the most secure that I have been since my world unfolded.

It was the weekend and on Friday nights they always have a large live music gathering inside the pavilion at East Fairmont Park.  My ex-boyfriend Tad used to take me there, mainly to score a bag of weed while I listened to the music.  It should be overcrowded and well lit.  Perfect and just what I want.

On Cranston Heights Boulevard, I pulled into the B*** of A******’s parking lot to get cash.  The park’s ticket booths weren’t set up for cards and I always liked tipping some of the street performers as well.  At its east corner was an ATM in a small glass enclosure attached to the main building.  The enclosure was nothing more than a carpeted rectangle with the ATM in its back wall, a small trashcan and plant.  Next to the machine, a single door marked STAIRS.

Two street lamps bookend the ATM and blanketed the lot with bright light.  I had become very sensitive to knowing where all the lights were, scanning the surroundings and took nothing for granted.  I was taking note of everything.

Rayray whined as he sensed my apprehension and he stayed obediently at my heels as we crossed the lot and entered the small room.  

Inside, the air was warm and stale – a heating vent blew directly overhead in between two sets of track lights.  

“Oh.. oh.. shit, no!” I muttered as I rummaged through my cluttered purse – my debit card was not in its slot in my wallet.  I finally found it buried in a side pocket and I slid it into the machine with a heavy sigh.  

The ATM chimed loudly as it accepted the card.  The screen suddenly blinked at me and then turned off.

The machine chimed again.

My heart began to pound. I glanced over my shoulder to see the empty lot behind me.


I couldn’t believe I left myself alone and open once again!

Another chime from the machine behind me.

That’s three chimes… my brain screamed at me.

I backed up against it just as the street lamp on the right of the ATM enclosure burst into a shower of sparks, followed up by the lamp on the left. The lot fell under a cloak of absolute darkness.  Death was surely perched to pounce upon me if I left the enclosure.

“Oh my god, Rayray, what is he?”  I moaned. “What am I going to do?”

The room grew colder, the air itself denser.  The track lighting sets flickered and then died too.

One more chime signaled his presence.

Rayray growled and his fur bristled as he stepped in front of me.

On pure instinct, I bolted for the door marked as STAIRS.  He was not getting next to me ever again!  

A sudden blast of icy wind came from the open door behind me as he broke into the enclosure.

“Rayray come!”  I screeched as I lunged through the STAIRS door and descended the steps.  

Behind me,  the STAIRS door slammed shut.  I had no idea where this stairwell was leading me to, but I couldn’t think straight at this point.  

Parallel lines of fluorescents on the walls began to explode as I approached them.  The blackness followed at my heels like a stalking wolf.    

But even blind I ran or stumbled on – I think I traveled down almost five flights to the bottom.  There I found only a chained door with a tiny window looking out at an abandoned underground parking lot.  I waited helpless and shivering against it.  Sitting in the cold, trapped in a pit while the abomination hunted above for me.

What would come next?  I realized that I could hear absolutely nothing.  No wind, no breathing, no sounds of traffic.  Not even the ATM chimes.

He isn’t gone.  I knew this deep in the core of my being.  He wasn’t done with me.  

Or did he already kill me and this is death? Laying blind in the cold?  The thought raced through my mind before I could contain it.  Perhaps I am already lying in my coffin and I don’t even know it?

I stared up into the black maw of the stairwell.  

Then a brief hope flickered in my head.  I began to rummage through my purse again, feeling around.

My fingers finally curled around my prize just as a sound echoed down to me.

Drip…. Drippp…. Dripppp….

I wondered if the ceiling maybe had sprung a leak, but that just seemed unlikely.

And it wasn’t raining when we came into the bank!  My brain screamed at me once again.

Drip…. Drippp…. Dripppp….

The steady patter of drops grew stronger and splashed loudly on the cement floor in front of my legs.  A stream of drops formed into a puddle.

Then just behind the sounds of the drops, I heard his heavy, dragging footsteps.

Squellccchhh…. Sqquueeelllccchhhhh

His muck-covered boots stuck to the metal stairs.  Was he pouring something over the steps?

When he got to the landing just above mine, the drops finally faltered and came to a stop. Something heavy was then dropped at his feet.  

I held my breath; my heart nearly bursting from the confines of my chest and waited for the words I knew were coming.

“Two days… I will hav–”

I was better prepped this time – I raised a pen flashlight I had carried in the purse and clicked the flashlight on.  The small beam of light cut through the gloom and illuminated the landing – a towering, shadowy figure stood there in a hooded, black rain slicker, mud-caked jeans tucked into mucked over boots.   He roared and his shape swirled away from the beam and his features bled into the dark shadows of the stairwell.

But as I said before – I SAW THE BASTARD’S FACE!

The skin of his cheeks were leathery and drawn, pulled down tight toward his chest. His chin covered in coarse grey and brown hair.  His bluish lips were thin and his mouth pressed tight into a single line.  The nose was very thin, beak-like and cleft at the end.  

But the eyes, the eyes… were missing.  There were three, empty black hollow sockets; one sitting on two in some skeletal-like pyramid.  

I think I fainted.  I don’t remember even how I got back to my apartment.  

I don’t even know where Rayray is.  I am all alone…

In Four Days…

Blog Pic 11

My favorite holiday of the year is approaching fast:  Halloween!!  So, to start this year’s fun off right, I have decided I am going to tell you all a horror story.  I wrote some of this about four months ago and have dabbled with the piece now and then in between my other projects.

A new genre of horror stories called “Creepypastas” came out a few years back.  Here is the actual definition and how they originated:

Creepypasta  — From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Creepypastas are horror-related legends or images that have been copy-and-pasted around the Internet. These Internet entries are often brief, user-generated ghost or alien stories intended to scare readers. They include gruesome tales of murder, suicide, and otherworldly occurrences. According to Time magazine, the genre had its peak audience in 2010 when it was covered by The New York Times.
In the mainstream media, creepypastas relating to the fictitious Slender Man character came to public attention after the 2014 “Slender Man stabbing“, in which a twelve-year-old girl from Waukesha, WI was stabbed by two of her friends; the perpetrators claimed they “wanted to prove the Slender Man skeptics wrong”.  After the murder attempt, some creepypasta website administrators made statements reminding readers of the “line between fiction and reality”.
Other notable creepypasta characters and stories include Jeff the Killer, Ted the Caver, and Psychosis. In October 2014, a book called Creepypasta: Spökhistorier från Internet (Creepypasta: Ghost Stories from the Internet) was published in Sweden.  In May 2015, Machinima Inc. announced plans for a live action web series curated by Clive Barker, titled Clive Barker’s Creepy Pasta.
The term originates from “copypasta“, a word used on 4chan in 2006 to describe viral copy-and-pasted text.

Anyway, after reading several creepypastas, I decided that it would be a blast to do my own.  I may eventually compile this into an e-book or perhaps a graphic novel; I haven’t decided, but mainly I am writing this for the fun and thrill of the scare!  Bwah hahahah!!

Here is “Day One” of my creepypasta saga called In Four Days:




Taken and reposted from Rosalina Rico’s Cuisine Review.  January 21st, 2016

I am sorry – I am at a loss what I can do next.  Normally as you all know, this is my restaurant blog and daily journal about my experiences within Philly’s unique diners and dives.  Today, I am using this to reach out for help and ideas.
This… for lack of a better word, this stalking started on Wednesday, January 20th..
The first night came when I was at the firm, B****** & D******, running a series of month-to-date reports.   I am one of three “seasoned” accountants and as always the other two had conveniently found reasons to be away from the office.  Due to our computer system having issues, the reports were pushed back three hours and I was on my fourth cup of coffee.
At 10:38 pm I needed three things:  the reports to be done, another cup of awful coffee and a badly-needed cigarette.
I ran down the hall and went to the ladies restroom.  It was deserted.  Yes! Lucky me!!
The fluorescence lights always flickered in this bathroom; one intern called it the Disco John.  Gave me the creeps each time, but tonight I didn’t want to take the long elevator ride to the parking lot where they had our designated smoking section.  Besides, the fans worked well and would clear out my cigarette smoke in a couple minutes.  Yes, this wasn’t my first time sneaking a drag.   
Just after my sixth or seventh long pull from the cigarette, the bathroom door squealed as the door was slowly hauled open.  In a panic I dropped it into the water below and fanned the air with my arms.  Holding my breath, I waited to see who was coming in – please not that fat ass from security.
Three heavy steps inside, then the person stopped just passed the swinging door.  Crap!  Sounds like boots!  No one from the office.
Above the fluorescence bulbs suddenly froze still and then brightened with an odd humming buzz.
The footsteps started again.
This time I heard a squelching sound.  Each step made a soft, obscene squishing burp.  The person turned the corner and began walking down the length of the stalls.  I kept waving the smoke up toward the fans.  The visitor stopped right in front of my stall and faced my door.
I sighed heavily.  “Sorry… sorry.  I know we aren’t allowed to smoke in here.  I already put it out.”
My name would probably go into some kind of Security Guard’s report.  .
“Uh… I am not done in here, but… I promise no more smoking okay?”
No response.
I coughed Ahem into my hand hoping “he” would get the hint.
No response.
“Look! I know you are just doing your job, but I don’t think you are supposed to do it in the ladies room.”
Nothing.  Silence.
I was getting pissed, frustrated and a bit frightened at this point.
I tried to see passed the slits in the door but “he” was standing in the center of the stall door.  His boots I could see were covered in a nasty grey-green muck.  A thick trail of mud followed his steps.
Who the hell was this??
“What do you want?  My name? Who are you?”
No answer.
I listened intently and I could make out just a whispery breath on the other side of the door.
“Are you purposefully trying to mess with me, asshole?”
I waited for something, anything.
Remembering my phone in my slack’s pocket, I reached down and checked to see if I had a signal.  I was lucky again.
“You better get the fuck out!  I am going to take your picture and then call 911!”  I threatened.  “You hear me, ya goddamn pervert!”
I rose up from the toilet, yanked my slacks up and held the phone up over the door.
The lights went out!  Everything covered in pitch black like a tomb.
 My cell phone went dead too.  When I checked it, it slipped from my hand as I started shaking uncontrollably.
His breath echoed and seemed louder somehow in the confines of the bathroom.
“Four days… I will have you in four days.”  The voice was hollow and stony.  No emphasis or emotion.
I screamed and kicked the door hard hoping to knock him down.  At that same moment, the lights exploded on and blinded me.  I fell forward in my momentum, crashed into the wall outside the stall and fell hard to the floor.
Lying on my back in the muddy grey-green slime, I blinked my eyes repeatedly trying to get them to adjust and see the bastard.
I was alone.


Hope you enjoyed this — next week, I will post “Day Two”!!  I will do these installments up through Halloween, but don’t be surprised to see other blog posts now and then on writing or self-publishing!  🙂

Let me know what you think of this story so far!