Toppling Over The Edge

By Winslow Swan

You have heard the old joke about the guy who walks into a bar? Tim is having a really bad day and only makes things worse when he blows the brains out of a bartender. His decent into madness makes for an interesting read. This is the first novella from an author who knows a lot about madness and insanity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Winslow Swan
• Release date: Oct 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311050014

Winslow Swan

Born and raised in Atlanta, Ga, I grew up surrounded by mystery and suspense, in book form. I also grew up listening not only to the great old radio horror shows but also heard the original run of the CBS Radio Mystery Theater. I contribute them for my imagination of horror and suspense. My favorite authors at the time were of course Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and Edgar Allen Poe. I now live in the North Georgia mountains where I am currently producing (with my best friend Crimson McKenzie) writing, directing, and appearing in a full cast audio series of horror, mystery, and suspense (with a few laughs along the way) titled "Doorway To Nightmare" on YouTube. (Check the channel out. 43 episodes with many more to come) Writing can, at times, become arduous and trying to find the quiet time to actually get my thoughts and stories down can sometimes be quite straining. However, I continue to do what I can to trouble the dreams of the reader.I find myself to be one of the few who have fulfilled all of their dreams. I have worked in both radio and television, as an actor and a writer, and have also appeared on stage. I have made two films (which shall both never see the light of day) and am now concentrating on a writing as a career.

Book preview

Toppling Over The Edge

By Winslow Swan

Published by Winslow Swan

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Winslow Swan

Other works by this author

Coming soon to Smashwords

The Convincer

Click A Tale Of Revenge

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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 are 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

Table Of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

Author’s Notes

About The Author

Sneak Preview of The Convincer

Forward

The story that you are about to read is based solely on the imagination of the author. It is no way intended to endorse smoking, robbery, rape, murder, or other such fun activities. You should be grown up enough to know that books, movies, music, or anything can make a person do something that they should not do, like jay walking, which should be punishable by public hanging.

I hope that you enjoy the story, short as it is, and that you will try out some of my other works, long as they are.

Winslow Swan

****

Chapter One

The day that I went absolutely insane had started quite ordinarily. I even remember what had finally driven me over the edge and put me where I am now.

I was sitting in Howard and John’s Bar on 16th Street, a glass of whiskey in front of me, music blaring from hidden speakers around the room, the lights flashing on and off above a dance floor where girl’s barely out of their teens gyrated and rubbed each other’s bodies, the men watching with eagerness in their eyes over sex that they would never have, when I pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

Sorry, sir, no smoking in here.

The bartender was young with a whisp of a beard and moustache, long blond hair and a stern look on his face.

I’m sorry? I said.

City ordinance. No smoking in public places anymore. Personally, I think it’s a crock. They actually passed an ordinance where you can’t even have a smoke outside. Can you believe it?

I looked down at the cigarette that nestled between my fingers, the now empty pack crushed in my left hand.

Nothing against you smoking inside your car, though. That’s what I always do, at least before they pass another law saying you can’t. Pretty soon there will be a law saying you can’t smoke in your own home!

He was a pleasant sort of person, a perfect bartender, you might say. Even though the place was packed from end to end, and what else would you expect on a Friday night, he was constantly at the ready with another drink for the patrons. His smile was perfect, his manner was perfect, and his speech was absolutely perfect.

He was pissing me off.

So if you don’t mind, sir…

It was at that point that my mind fell over the chasm into that dark void that only a few have ever known.

I took my last cigarette, placed it onto the bar, reached into my coat and retrieved the .45 caliber pistol that had been there since the morning, and calmly blew the bartenders brains all over the wine and whiskey bottles that lined the back of the bar.

Nothing clears out an establishment quicker than a gunshot and brain matter and blood flying all over the place.

****

Chapter Two

Let me first introduce myself, dear reader.

My name is Tim and I live in a small town in the northern part of Georgia quaintly called Speaking Stone. How the town got that name I have never really been able to find out. Only a few thousand live there, mostly people from Atlanta who are looking for a quiet little cabin in the North Georgia mountains, tired of the day to day grind of city life and the urban violence that seems to be so prevalent.

Of course, what the realtor’s don’t tell you is that crime and violence is just as prevalent there, only not as widely reported.

I am also the most successful failure that has ever had the daunting pleasure of taking up space on this planet.

I never knew my mother. She died while trying to force me out into this horrible existence called life. I guess you could say that she gave up her life to give me mine.

My father tried to raise me as best he could, but being a cab driver in the large metropolitan city of Atlanta can have its drawbacks.

I was sixteen when he got his head blown off by a drug crazed maniac; at least it was what I was told.

I remember being sixteen and getting my first job at a local radio station as an announcer, a euphemism for disc jockey. I was told of my father’s death by the secretary of WTRY, a small AM station on the outskirts of the city.

I never cried.

Even to this day at the age of 48, did I once shed a tear for the old bastard.

Suffice it to say, we never really got along. There were no fishing trips, no outings, birthdays came and went without so much as a cupcake, and after awhile, he had gone his way and I had