What happened to Jory and other dark departures

By Gary Henry

Vlad the Impaler - advice columnist. A T-Rex haunts Boulder, Colo. An explorer breaches the wall between life and Afterlife. A woman who creates live wolves out of needle and thread. And of course, the strange tale of "What happened to Jory." Here are eight dark departures to unusual destinations, ranging in length from flash fiction to novelette.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gary Henry
• Release date: Nov 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466059979

Gary Henry

Writer, runner, dog dad. Retired Navy. Certified Coach, Road Runners Club of America. I review indie books online at Honest Indie Book Reviews ~ and my own books AMERICAN GODDESSES, WHAT HAPPENED TO JORY and THE MOON POEM AND OTHER STRANGE JINGLE JANGLES are all available right here on Smashie.

Book preview

What happened to Jory

And other dark departures

By Gary Robert Henry

Copyright 2011 by Gary Robert Henry

Smashwords edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Gary Henry

Nov. 22, 2011

Contents

Ask Vlad the Impaler

The Dakota Ridge anachronism

Epiphany

The good, the bad and the hairy

Roth’s machine

What happened to Jory

The woman who sewed wolves

A barbarian in Rome

Ask Vlad the Impaler

It's not always easy to know what to do.

Unsure how to react? Don't know where to compromise? Ask that famous (or infamous) character out of history -- Vlad the Impaler. You might find that this so-called maniac and minion of Hell has just the right insight for what's impaling your craw.

Dear Vlad,

I want to invite my relatives to visit for three weeks. But my husband will only agree to a three-day visit. How can we work this out? --Daughter in Des Moines

Dear Daughter,

The solution to your problem is simple. Invite the relatives for one day. I will drop by in the afternoon, about two-ish, and IMPALE YOU, YOUR WORM-LIKE HUSBAND AND ALL YOUR WRETCHED FAMILY. YOUR SOULS WILL BE DAMNED TO BURN AND ROT IN THE BLACK INFERNO OF HELL FOR 10 TIMES A BILLION BILLION YEARS, SUFFERING HIDEOUS AGONIES BEYOND MORTAL COMPREHENSION!!!

Hope I've helped -- Vlad

Dear Vlad,

Our teenage son, Martin, is upset with his mother and me because we've imposed a 9 p.m. weekday curfew on him, and an 11 p.m. curfew for weekends. We've tried to explain that it's for his own good, but he just becomes more and more sullen. Can you help?

-- Dad in Dubuque

Dear Dad,

I can't help but think that part of Martin's problem is our modern day permissive society. When I was a lad things were a bit different, you can be sure! Still, I suggest a traditional remedy for this sensitive situation, namely, that I stop by tomorrow evening and IMPALE YOU AND YOUR PATHETIC, CRAWLING, VERMINOUS, MAGGOT FAMILY. AS I CHEW THE BRAIN FROM YOUR DISEASED GRAPE, I WILL CURSE YOUR SECOND-RATE SOULS TO THE SHRIEKING JAWS OF HELL, WHERE YOU WILL BE DAMNED TO BLIND, BURNING, WRITHING AGONY UNTIL ONE HUNDRED BILLION UNIVERSES HAVE CRUMBLED TO STINKING DUST!!!

Hope I've helped. -- Vlad

Dear Vlad,

The management at my workplace sometimes appears to be a bit high-handed and unfeeling toward us lower-echelon employees. What's the best way to deal with this situation?

-- Frustrated in Fresno

Dear Frustrated,

The problem you describe is a common one -- especially in today's helter-skelter work climate. Believe it or not, even I -- Vlad -- have at times been criticized for an attitude perceived to be less than caring toward those under my supervision. I suggest calling a meeting of both parties. I'll stop by and IMPALE YOU AND YOUR PITIFUL CRINGING CROWD OF GUTLESS CO-WORKERS, AS WELL AS YOUR DISGUSTING PARASITIC, CRETINOUS MANAGEMENT. YOU SHALL BE IMPALED OPEN END TO OPEN END, THEN DAMNED TO WRITHE FOR 10 ETERNITIES IN A CORNER OF HELL SO HIDEOUS THAT YOUR ROTTEN MELON-HEAD WOULD BURST APART IN BLOODY FROTH IF YOU HEARD THE FIRST SYLLABLE OF ITS UNSPEAKABLE NAME!!!

Hope I've helped – Vlad

# # #

The Dakota Ridge Anachronism

Hilary and Willamette were nearly at the top of Dakota Ridge. Boulder was hundreds of feet below, a patchwork of streets, buildings and fall foliage. The town drowsed in the sunny, Sunday afternoon.

Over there's the National Center for Atmospheric Research, and that's Green Mountain, Hilary nattered. The Wonderland Hills are right over there. . .

Willamette struggled with the incline. Are we almost there? she panted. I want to rest!

Then they saw it.

With a roar that sounded like a pack of wolves fighting a gang of bears, the Tyrannosaurus Rex reared above a rise, a few hundred feet to their right, and just below them.

Willamette yelled. No attempt at words or expression, just pure loud vowels.

Oh my God, breathed Hilary. Though fright lanced through her like electricity in water, still she marveled at the way the tyrant lizard tossed its Volkswagen-sized head.

It was just like the one in Jurassic Park! How'd those special effects guys know?

Hilary and Willamette scrambled for the top. The movement caught the beast's onyx eyes. Tail lashing, head down, it moved on muscles like galvanized steel springs. Talons two feet long, sharp as cat's claws, pierced the earth.

In seconds, it stood where Hilary and Willamette had been moments before. It roared, frustrated at losing them.

Hilary and Willamette hid beneath a clump of gray boulders about 20 yards from the beast. Willamette gasped, wheezed and hyperventilated.

Hilary shook her. You stop that right now, she whispered harshly.

With monumental effort, Willamette brought herself under control. Hilary hugged her and could feel her quaking. About seven on the Richter scale, Hilary thought, absently.

Willamette stared at her. You never said anything about dinosaurs in your letters, she accused. I'd never have come to visit --

Hilary put her hand over Willamette's mouth, silencing her.

First one I ever saw, Hilary said. Believe me, I would've mentioned it. Now we have to figure out what to do.

Why can't we just stay here until it goes away?

It won't go away. It knows we're nearby. It senses body heat, like a viper, so it'll find us.

How do you know it senses body heat?

From watching the Discovery Channel. Look Willamette, it can get us here. But I know where there's a little rock cave, just deep enough. We'll have to run for it before that thing gets any closer.

Hilary peeked around the side of the rock. The Tyrannosaurus clung to the hillside, its steam shovel jaws and six-inch fangs level with the ridgetop. Hilary could smell the thing's fetid breath.

She turned to trembling Willamette. Now look, Willamette, she said. You can see the path just over there, right?

Willamette nodded.

We want to follow it north, about 30 yards, to the edge of the ridge. One of the scaffold towers for the high-tension lines is right there. We go over the side of the ridge, slide down about 10 feet, and there's the cave. Got it?"

Maybe it'll get tangled in the wires and get electrocuted, Willamette suggested, hopefully.

I wouldn't count on it, Hilary replied. "Those wires are too high. It couldn't get tangled in them if it tried. We better go now. Once it's on top of the ridge, we won't have any cover.

It roared, horribly close, and Willamette barked in fear, like a startled prairie dog. I can't do it, I can't do it, she