If you want to increase your success rate, double your failure rate.

Sunday, February 15, 2015

Unhallowed Birth

The wind howled outside and snow blew off the roof into my face as I waited for the dogs to emerge from the darkness, their morning rituals complete.  The temperature hovered at -12 degrees.
The blackness was complete out there in a world of white.  Ironic at best.

Back inside, I brewed a cup of coffee and stoked the wood stove.  My aging body welcomed the heat from the cast iron stove.  I stood next to it, rotating around, warming all sides as I sipped the coffee.

I had awoken an hour earlier and while I laid there in bed I tried to figure out what had broken my sleep and why my mind raced so desperately to try and remember it.  It was a story.  I don't think it was a dream, my dreams fade too fast for memory to collect them.

Something was out there.  In the cold and the darkness.  I couldn't see it for the blowing snow and I couldn't hear it for the howling wind but I could sense it...almost smell it.  Putrid and rotting, it permeated even the iciness of the air and my nostrils flared.  I dared not go back out for a second look.  Whatever it was, it was best left alone, to decay in the dark.

I sat down to write this morning-in the wee hours before dawn when I'm at my best.  When my mind is clear and focused and the troubles of the day have not yet encumbered my soft mind.
I stared at the screen, unable to write-what I was supposed to write.  My mind kept drifting back to whatever was outside.  That smell...that feeling.

And so I began to type and what came out was more monstrous than even I had thought possible.
While this story impaled itself across my monitor, my other story, The Lion and I, sat lonely and cold inside my hard drive.  I shouldn't have switched.  I should have trudged on and let this other thing slip away into the darkness but alas I could not.

I was too afraid to let it go.  Afraid the darkness would eventually come back two-fold and when it did, my keyboard would be unable to stop it.

But I am excited.  A new birth has befallen my study.

I should probably close the door.


  1. You drew me in to your story; now I'm wondering what was outside and if you would go and investigate it and what you would find.


    1. Betty,
      I think it's best if left outside but sometimes they knock and you can't help but let them in.

      I am going to try my best to finish the Lion before I come back to this...but it will be hard. This is more my style.

  2. ^ Hey, while it's true you ARE damn good at this genre, don't forget that Lion is turning out really well too. Either way... so long as you're writing, you won't hear any complaints from us.

  3. Hahaha - red smartie, down a stinkhole, anyone! Can't wait to see where this is going.
    Don't you love when you get a moment like this and run with it (or from it) - love it!
    Keep it on slow simmer and reach for it now and then, when life on the island ebbs… this will be your flow.

  4. Those story seeds can be nagging devils. All I know is that at -12 degrees I'm staying by the stove.

    Arlee Bird
    A to Z Challenge Co-host
    Tossing It Out

  5. I do believe that Jenny's stories have rubbed off on you. She has written some creepy and scary pieces so I'm not surprised. I loved the way you wrote this. Excellent!


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