Journeys Into The Macabre

By Mikel Classen

Ever wonder what happens when a vampire is turned into a Zombie? Ever attend a seance that went horribly wrong? Ever think of what it would be like to fall in love with a woman that has been dead for 150 years? These are just a few of the experiences you will have on your Journeys Into The Macabre. NetBound Publishing and author Mikel B. Classen have put together a collection of masterfully crafted horror stories that bring back the richness and feel of traditional gothic horror while adding the sharp textures of contemporary writing that creates a witch's brew of tales unlike anything published before. This is a must for any lover of dark fiction.

Includes:
Deliver Me From Evil
M'Ganga's Curse
Eternity
House of Seances
The Gray Tower
The Sorceress
The Donner Trailer
Senn's Vampire
The Dive
The Late Hero

NetBound Publishing is proud to present Journeys Into The Macabre by Mikel B. Classen

• Language: English
• Publisher: NetBound Publishing
• Release date: Aug 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465780638

Mikel Classen

I’m an Author, Journalist, Columnist, Photographer, Editor and Publisher and have been writing for most of my life. For several years I published a magazine about Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. I live in Sault Sainte Marie, Michigan. (Take a look at my website: htttp://www.mikelclassen.com ) I've been a journalist and magazine writer for 30 years. Now, while I'm a journalist at heart and still produce work, I'm focusing more on writing fiction. I'm also working very hard on new fiction projects and my writing is always ongoing and full time. Two of my stories, "Senn's Vampire" and "Ulith Elder" were published in the "Vicious Bites" vampire story anthology. Two others, "House of Seances" and "The Late Hero" appear in the "Vicious Spirits" anthology. My short story "M'Ganga's Curse." was published in the "Vicious Dead" zombie story anthology and is going to appear in Panic Press' anthology "DEADication." I won First Place in the 2010 ViNoWriMo (similar to the NaNoWriMo only more intense) competition with my entry "Children of Destruction." (Diligently working on rewrites) As a result it will be published later this year. I have founded a publishing concern called Netbound Publishing, originally to self-publish, but now it is becoming quite a bit more than that. It can be found at http://netboundpublishing.com.

Book preview

Journeys Into The Macabre

By

Mikel B. Classen

Published by Mikel B. Classen

and NetBound Publishing

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 by Mikel B. Classen

http://www.mikelclassen.com

Cover by Melissa Stevens, The Illustrated Author

http://theillustratedauthor.weebly.com

Discover other titles by NetBound Publishing and Mikel B. Classen at Smashwords.com

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/netbound

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Includes:

Deliver Me From Evil

M'Ganga's Curse

Eternity

House of Seances

The Gray Tower

The Sorceress

The Donner Trailer

Senn's Vampire

The Dive

The Late Hero

Journeys Into The Macabre

Deliver Me From Evil

God, what have I done to deserve this? I had always thought that I'd led a good life; don't get me wrong, I'm no saint, but for some reason I've been chosen to be the victim of this unimaginable horror. I'm recording this in desperate hope that I am the last to set foot in this unholy place. My story is of the utmost importance. I have little time so I must be quick because I have much to tell. Lack of food and water has taken its toll, so I know that the next time she comes, I won't be able to resist her again.

It started about a week ago or maybe it has been only a couple of days, it all seems the same in this timeless place. I needed a break and there was a beautiful day beginning in Halifax, Nova Scotia. It was my day off from work, so I decided to take my eighteen-foot, one-man sailboat out for a trip up the coast.

I set a course that took me north along the rocky coast for most of the day, pushed by a stiff breeze. The smell of the sea, the clear sky, the cool air of autumn, my favorite music on the miniature portable cassette player/recorder, all made for an intoxicating mixture, as it always does. This was the prescription I needed, the only way to spend a day off.

I relaxed in my seat next to the tiller. I felt comfortable, at ease with the wood beneath my hand and hearing the crack of the sail overhead as it billowed out to its fullest. The euphoria and the movement of the waves eventually made me drowsy.

Suddenly, I snapped upright in my seat. Something was different, I just couldn't figure out what it was. I didn't think that I had dozed off but I couldn't be sure. It seemed to me that I had been following the music on the tape closely and it was playing the song that it should be playing. I reached down and put it in the rubber lined pocket of my coat.

The coastline looked the same but it appeared as if I had traveled a bit farther off shore than I planned. This didn't worry me much. It was easy enough to rectify. I turned the tiller to compensate for the drift. It wasn't long and I realized that the shoreline was still receding. If something didn't change, soon, I wouldn't be able to see it anymore.

Now I became a little apprehensive. I didn't have the proper equipment for navigation and survival for any extended length of time on the ocean. I was afraid that if I lost sight of the coast, I would also lose my bearing towards my position in the water. I leaned hard on the wooden arm in a quickly becoming desperate attempt to correct my course. I strained as hard as I could, but the boat was caught in an overwhelming, powerful current. The tiller felt like a giant hand was holding the rudder in one position, refusing to give up its grip.

I refused to give up too. The wind died, leaving my sail slack and limp above me. Swearing to myself, frustration started to get the better of me. Sweat began to drip into my eyes, which added to my aggravation. The tiller slipped out of my perspiring hands and swung back fast, cracking me in the stomach. All of the air in my chest flew out. Fighting dizziness and trying to catch my breath, I stood, supporting myself against the chrome rail that ran around the edge of my boat.

I went back to my fight more determined than ever. I leaned into the tiller with all of the strength I could possibly muster. I could feel all of the muscles in my back and legs starting to knot. After I had kept this up for a few minutes with no noticeable results a sickening crack snapped and I almost flew overboard from the sudden breaking of the arm. The piece of tiller that I had been holding flew out of my grasp and landed in the ocean.

I stood and stared dumbly at the broken boat-piece as it floated away. It drifted quickly, much faster than I could ever hope of retaking by swimming. A sick feeling came over me. Spewing more profanity, I drew my arm back and, in a fit of rage, pounded on the boat with my fists until they hurt so much that I couldn't take any more. The useless piece of oak had already drifted out of my sight.

There was no possible way that I could fix the damage or rig a temporary arm until I made it back home. I'm very conservative about what I supply my boat with because space is limited and it keeps me from loading the boat with a lot of unrelated and seemingly useless items. Now they didn't seem so useless. Besides, I was only planning on going out for the day. I tried to rationalize my negligence. Now it seemed that my conservatism might be my downfall. I was angry with nothing that I could really be angry at other than myself. I sank back down in my seat next to the broken tiller, depressed.

The current carried me along like a fallen leaf in a stream. The farther it carried me, the more speed my boat appeared to pick up. It was starting to get dark and I was getting scared. I'd never been in a situation where death was a very real possibility. What the hell was I going to do now? The only food I had was some emergency rations that might last two days at best.

There was no radio that I could transmit with. It was a hobby boat and I never journeyed that far from the harbor to need one. I had flares but they were useless until I spotted somebody. Traffic in these waters can be scarce at this time of year. I tried to reason my situation rationally, if that was possible.

Darkness crept in, leaving sleep about the only thing left to do. If I slept then, I'd be awake and alert to search the water for possible help in the morning. There was no more that I could do, so I laid down. Sleep would take my mind off of being hungry temporarily. My rations were the most important thing to me now. The last thing I saw, before an uneasy slumber set in, were the stars shining above in a beautiful display, framed by a perfectly clear sky.

I was startled awake by the sound of crunching wood accompanied by the cold wet of rushing water. Immediately, out of reflex, I leaped up from the bottom of the boat as water began flowing around my ankles climbing farther up my leg every second.

Darkness around me was nearly total. The stars were no longer visible. I had to act fast because my boat was sinking rapidly. I couldn't see anything of my surroundings, so I made a quick but groggy decision. I leaped overboard abandoning the wreck. My rations and flares were swept away by the sudden rush of water when the hull apparently collided with some rocks. I knew that my life preserver would keep me afloat, but I didn't know how long I would be able to take the water of the north Atlantic without freezing.

My head spun as I hit the icy sea, driving away the last remnants of sleep that was clouding my brain. My legs felt sharp rocks jutting up from the ocean floor. If there were rocks this close to the surface, then that must mean that I'm somewhere near a body of land. The swift current, still prevalent, grabbed my body and carried me rapidly and helplessly away from the disappearing remains of my boat, which was being quickly consumed by the sea.

My body was like a rag as it was thrown repeatedly against the rocks looming everywhere, appearing like black specters in the dark, suddenly reaching out and inflicting pain wherever they touched. A cut here, a bruise there, I felt like the sea was using me as a plaything. I tried to reach out and grab onto one of the rocks. I was swiftly being carried past, but my efforts were of no avail. Again I was buffeted up into a hard stone surface that caused more pain on my cold, bruised and lacerated body. I'd never be able to endure much more slamming around. A wave filled my nostrils with putrid seawater. I blew it back out snorting and choking. My nose and throat burned from salt as did every scrape and scratch. All of the wounds on my body felt as if they had their own individual fire. Another faceful of water tried to smother me, driving the breath from my lungs. Artificial stars flashed as my head was bounced like a ball off one of the rocks. Suddenly, it was smacked again and I sank into the depths of unconsciousness.

I awoke, though I never thought that I would again, and now I wish I would have drowned. I was in agony from countless cuts and bruises along with muscles that were cramped from the cold and fighting with the current. I instantly rolled over and started to empty my stomach of all of the sea water I had swallowed. I laid there after the convulsions subsided for a long time and thanked God for having saved me, but now I realize that my miraculous survival had nothing to do with God. The prone position calmed my muscles, likewise my stomach, down to a level of tolerance. Next, I decided to get up and see where salvation had put me.

All about me was darkness but, uncannily, my eyes could see rather well. The details of my surroundings stood out starkly. It was strange and couldn't be accounted for by any way that I could discern. No stars or moon were out. Clouds must have obscured them before my ordeal. Everything around me was black rock. No plant or animal life of any kind could be seen in any direction. This was a disappointment, but I wouldn't let it bother me yet. I was just lucky to be alive.

There was an overpowering, sickening smell that polluted the air. It was nauseating, nearly causing me to vomit all over again. Something dead must have washed up and had been decomposing for a long time. With that current things must wash onto this place all the time.

I began to walk the shoreline, always keeping it on my left. The going was rough. I was constantly climbing up and down over jagged rock and slipping on the slick stone. This place was so oppressive, dead and barren. The darkness, but still being able to see, the smell that made me gag at every breath, along with the complete absence of life, all combined to give me that impression. How could such a disgusting place exist?

I speculated on where the sea had deposited me. Had the current carried me back to the mainland or did I have the misfortune of landing on one of the countless islands that littered the coast? If I were on the coast, at least I'd be able to eventually find some fresh water from one of the many streams that flowed throughout the North Country. Eventually, I'd be able to find some food when daylight came so I'd be able to venture away from the seashore. I knew much about survival in tight spots. Though, I've never had to use the knowledge before. Living in Nova Scotia, where it is miles of some of the roughest wilderness in the world between villages, it's a necessity. One did not last long without the knowledge of emergency survival techniques. Suddenly, I got my answer as the shoreline took a sharp turn to the right and I realized that I was going in a completely differently direction. I felt my heart ache as my hopes were once again destroyed.

It looked as if I was on a small rock island with no sign of fresh water or vegetation of any type. I couldn't even spot any signs of seaweed that might have been thrown on the rocks by the ever pounding waves. All signs gave the idea that I was in for a very slow death. I resolved