Death and Revenge

By G. G. Gregory

Four short stories of murder, revenge and being caught in the middle of a horrible situation. You will have to ask yourself, 'What would I do in that situation'. Sometimes people can be cruel, and have a complete disregard for human life. These stories graphically reflect that, with shocking action, unusual and unexpected twists. Imagine being in an accident that leaves you with a mental power, gift or curse. A ghost comes to you for help, the kind you wouldn't expect, or a dead person that speaks to you, an infestation of an alien race. Some of these situations could actually happen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: G. G. Gregory
• Release date: Jun 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301608201

G. G. Gregory

I am originally from Michigan, and now live in the great state of Oregon. I spend a lot of time hiking and snowshoeing in the Cascade Mountain Range. I always wanted to be a writer. I was given many clues that I should pursue that dream. When living in Michigan, one day I walked into a Psychics Boutique looking for self help books. The lady that owned the store, walked up to me and asked what I was doing here? I answered looking for a book. She said no, what are you doing here? You do not belong here. You should be on the west coast somewhere doing something artistic, like writing music or books. You do not belong here. As strange as I thought that was, I took it to heart and moved. Being on the west coast is very insperational for me. They say writers write, and I do that every day. Some of my stories come from personal experience with a twist. I watch people in situations, and then I twist them into stories. I have dreams that wake me, and send running to my keyboard, or, jotting the idea on paper. Some people think I am insane, crazy, and they ask, "How do you come up with this stuff?" Maybe I am a little crazy, or totally nuts. My mind is always looking, going over the scenes, running through dialogue. I love hearing , "Oh, I was not expecting that," or "That's scary. What if it is true." My friends are always asking when I am going to be done with my next story or novel, because they know I will let them read it the day after I publish.

Book preview

Death and Revenge

By

G. G. Gregory

Published by:

G. G. Gregory on Smashwords

a

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2013 G. G. Gregory

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 your retailer, and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

The Smell of Death

For the Little People

Lady in the Water

Jessica

The Smell of Death

Fourteen years ago, I was driving through the Santiam Pass, cruising through the mountains heading for Salem, Oregon. It was a beautiful sunny day in August, fresh pine scented air rushing in through my open windows.

A passing log hauling truck kicked up a rock that came through my windshield and struck me in the head. I woke and saw that my ruined Wrangler went off the road and into a shallow, rock and boulder strewn river. The next thing I remember was waking in a hospital bed. I was so weak that I could barely move my arms or legs.

A nurse rushed in, looked at me wide-eyed and then rushed back out. She with two other nurses and a doctor returned. The nurses were checking the monitors while the doctor began asking me questions.

Can you tell me what your name is?

Justin Lambert. Where am I?

You are in a hospital, Portland General. Do you remember what happened to you? I told him about the log hauler and the rock. Your memory is very clear for a person in your condition.

What exactly is my condition?

You have been in a coma for more than six months.

The revelation startled me. I smelled sulfur, as if someone lit a match. I looked at the other bed in the room. In it was another man. He looked blurry when everything and everybody else looked clear and sharp. It made me think that his soul was detached, wavering, trying to get loose. I looked at the doctor, He hasn’t got long.

He looked at me and said, It’s all right, he’s just fine. Alarms started sounding and they all rushed to the man’s side. I watched as they worked, shocking him with crash cart paddles, injecting something into his IV, and then they called time of death. The doctor looked back at me with a questioning gaze. Two hours later, my wife Lisa, and my eleven-year-old son Ashton, rushed into the room. Ashton, practically dove on me with tears of joy, Dad, you came back. He held me tightly as Lisa held my hand, with tears streaming down her cheeks. Lisa, and Ashton, came every day to visit and stayed an hour each time.

That is how it began for me; I could see, feel, and smell death in others. Mostly it was a pungent aroma of sulfur, the vibration, or wavering of the person’s soul, when death was at its closest point. However, sometimes it is just a feeling I get when I touch a person, then knowing their time was near. I knew when my dad was going to pass. It felt like death was close to me, but I knew it was coming for him.

It took me a year, after I woke out of the coma, to get used to seeing death coming for a person, and it hurt deep in my heart when it was a loved one. I could not tell them though. I just did not feel like it was the right thing to do. Uh, hey, just thought you should know; you’re going to die soon.

After the months of physical therapy ended, getting my atrophied muscles working, as they should, I went about living my life. I went back to work for the advertising agency I worked for before my accident. It was not easy, adjusting to the time I lost. There were new things happening in the world, but once I adjusted, they did not seem very different.

One day during my lunch break, I took a walk. A convenience store I stopped at had a magazine rack with a wide variety of reading material. At the checkout, the man on the other side of the counter was ringing my purchases up.

His appearance was blurry, soul wavering, and I smelled sulfur. On the back wall behind him, there were pictures of him in a police officer’s uniform. I could not hardly wait for him to finish so I could get out of there, did not want to see how he was about to go.

Walking out the door another man approached wearing a soiled red hooded zip-up sweatshirt. He was also a blur and the aroma of sulfur wafted against my senses as he passed by me. I moved to the left of the storefront quickly away from the windows. There was some yelling, and then I heard two shots fired from a small gun and a single shotgun blast.

I waited and then peered in through the window. I could not