Edge of Nowhere

By Hazel Hart

A short story collection of dark fiction:
Lock the door and journey into fear.

Two women move into their dream home to find it inhabited by a demonic angel in "Edge of Nowhere."

An obsessed young man commits "Deadly Sins" when he plots to kill a beatiful woman.
A professor of mythology fears her twin is dating a werewolf. Can she convince her sister this is more than a case of "Cry Wolf"?

A man's desire to escape poverty prompts him to marry the homely daughter of a rich rancher in exchange for a career in "A Laugh like Rolling Stones."

A twelve-step group, "L.O.V.E. Anonymous," encourages a single woman to answer a personal ad.

Plus other unforgettable tales from...the dark side.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hazel Hart
• Release date: Aug 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465890528

Hazel Hart

Hazel Hart has won awards for her short fiction, including "Amanda Marie," published in Kansas Voices, and "Confessions," published in Words out of the Flatlands. She has two published suspense novels, The Night before Christmas and Like Mother, Like Daughter, and has co-authored two books of short stories, Dark Side of the Rainbow and Edge of Nowhere, with Bonnie Eaton aka B.J. Myrick.

Book preview

EDGE

OF

NOWHERE

BY

B. J. MYRICK

With Selected Stories by

Hazel Hart

SMASHWORDS EDITION 2011

Copyright © 2009 by B. J. Myrick and Hazel Hart

Cover art by Carlyle Stewart

Discover other titles by B.J. Myrick at

http://www.writersmatrix.com/readersmatrix/B-J-Myrick.html

Discover other titles by Hazel Hart at

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

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book 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 person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

This work of fiction is a product of the author’s imagination and any names, characters, incidents, or locales are fictitious, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual incidents, locales, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

CONTENTS

Edge Of Nowhere by B. J. Myrick

Cry Wolf by Hazel Hart

Deadly Sins by B. J. Myrick

A Nice Cup of Tea by Hazel Hart

A Laugh Like Rolling Stones by B. J. Myrick

Confessions by Hazel Hart

L.O.V.E. Anonymous by Hazel Hart

Dark Angel by B. J. Myrick

A Shrill Note by Hazel Hart

The Seduction an excerpt from the Dark Side by B.J. Myrick and Hazel Hart

About the Authors

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EDGE OF NOWHERE

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B. J. Myrick

My sister swept in like a blustery blizzard, packing her tabby cat with her. She set him gently on the floor, gave me an eloquent look of love and wrapped her bony arms around me in a fierce hug. She was such a phony.

I hope you don't mind, Nicole said. I brought Ish-Mish with me. Her gaze slid sideways to the TV and the movies stacked beside the VCR. I see you're still watching those gory movies. She picked up the top two, a malicious gleam in her green eyes. "Oh, yeah, this is just what you need to be watching. The Amityville Horror and The Shining." She rolled her eyes and tossed the videos down.

Same old Nicole.

I wondered what she wanted this time.

They're great movies, I said. I like stuff about spiritual vampires and psychic energies left in houses by evil owners,

Nicole rolled her eyes again, and her lips thinned into a caustic smile, revealing tiny telltale lines. Oh, my Gawd . . . spiritual vampires? Her voice trailed up an octave.

Although I was a year younger, I didn't have near the wrinkles Nicole had at forty. I doubted she'd ever settle down. She liked to party too much.

Yes, I said. Spiritual vampires. You know—evil spirits that suck your energy away so they can attack you. Even the Bible talks about demons, so they have to exist whether you believe it or not.

Jesus, Wendy! Get a life.

I have one, I said flatly.

Nicole's shorthaired tom was checking out the furniture. I leaned over and stroked its orange coat. His tail spiked in the air like a seedling sprouting skyward.

The tom stared at me with mischievous green eyes that reminded me of Nicole's. He had four white paws, large ears that dwarfed his triangular face, and a necklace of white ruff.

Isn't he just precious? Nicole cooed as the cat sniffed the furniture.

"He is cute, I lied, but what kind of a name is Ish-Mish?"

It means little bat. Then like an afterthought, she added, He's been altered. She moved to the couch and carefully smoothed her pale yellow skirt before she sat down.

Altered?

Neutered. She gave me a smug look. Wendy, don't you know anything? She shook her head.

I gave her a withering glance. I know what neutered is. Why didn't you just say that instead of altered?

I had no idea you didn't know what altered meant, Nicole raised her eyebrows. That's what comes from living down here in the sticks. You never keep up with the world. It's a wonder I come to see you at all, what with you stuck out here in the middle of nowhere. Why don't you move to Wichita? She shifted and settled back into the couch like a tire gone flat.

I was about to reply when the bat ambled to my favorite recliner and stretched to embrace its textured tweed. A look of pure rapture spread over its face as the raspy sound of claws sawed their way into the nubby gray fabric.

Don't let him do that! I exploded. I jumped up to save my chair. Before I could reach the tom, Nicole was there. I didn't know she could move that fast.

Don't do that, precious, Nicole said to the cat. She glared at me, then bent down to pick him up. Wrapping her hands around his wiry body, she cuddled him close, crooning as though he were her baby.

My chair was safe—for the moment.

Why don't you declaw him? I asked. It's your business if you want to let him shred your furniture, but don't think you can bring him down here to ruin my stuff.

The words were barely out of my mouth when I realized I'd made a big mistake. For the next ten minutes, Nicole educated me on the physical and psychological damage of declawing.

Finally I'd had enough. Shut up, Nicole. Just shut up, I snapped. It never hurt my Taffy, and it won't hurt that alley cat of yours.

Nicole's eyes narrowed and I knew I was in trouble. She started to say something when Taffy, round-eyed and curious, peeked into the room.

Thuwmp!

With a leap, Ish-Mish landed in the middle of Taffy's back like a tackling football player. Taffy let out a howl of surprise and bolted back into the dining room, Ish-Mish hot on her heels.

Taffy streaked behind the freezer. Ish-Mish raced to the opposite end of the appliance and waited for Taffy to emerge. The tom was smart—I had to give him credit.

From the living room, Nicole was laughing. "He's only playing. He isn't going to hurt your hairball."

"Well, I'm going to make sure your fleabag doesn't hurt her, I said. She's defenseless without her claws." I hurried to rescue Taffy.

Fleabag? And whose fault is it that Taffy doesn't have claws? How dare you, Wendy!

So what're you gonna do about it? I challenged. My voice trailed off as the tom balanced on his hind legs and reached in behind the freezer with his front blades. Poor Taffy tried to back up, but she was trapped.

I bent down and grabbed Ish-mish by the tail, pulling him back. I saw surprise in his round wide eyes for a moment before he twisted his neck around and sank his teeth in the soft flesh of my hand. Howling, I let go.

Nicole rushed into the room. How could you, Wendy? How could you?

I turned on her. I've got one nerve left, and you're on it. I clutched my throbbing hand. Don't ever bring that cat back here again.

Fine. And I'll go you one better. It'll be a cold day in hell before I'll step foot in this house again. Glaring at me, Nicole grabbed the ferocious tom up in her arms.

She reminded me of a pot boiling over as she rushed out the door and slammed it behind her. Her engine revved as she peeled out of the driveway.

I crossed the room, the echo of years bouncing off the walls. Relief set in. She'd been a burr in my side forever. As usual, though, Nicole had the last word. But if I knew my sister, she'd be back because whatever she'd come about had been sidetracked by our argument over the cats.

Still, I hoped Nicole had meant it when she said she'd never step foot in my house again. She was like a virus that kept attacking. The only reason I put up with her was because of Mother.

Although Mom had been dead for years, I could still hear her admonishing me over the fights I'd had with Nicole. Now Wendy, she'd say, she's your sister. You need to stick together. You girls will need each other some day.

That would be a cold day in Hell!

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Two weeks went by without a word from Nicole. I had begun to think I'd been mistaken about her intentions, but that was before the Monday morning mail came. I gathered the wad of monthly bills in my hand, staring at the edge of a pale yellow envelope embedded within. Yellow—Nicole's favorite color. I took a deep breath of fresh air before returning inside.

I laid the bills on the coffee table and extracted Nicole's envelope. It had to be bad news. Nicole was bad news, period.

I sauntered over to my dingy gray sofa, sighed, and settled my overweight body into the center depression. Leaning back, I slit the envelope open, reminding myself I had to be there for Nicole, otherwise Mother would turn over in her grave. Then I'd have two aggravations instead of one.

I pulled Nicole's personalized stationary from the envelope and opened it up. Her careless handwriting scrawled across the page.

Wendy, the note started. No endearments. Just my name snapped out at the heading. I scooted deeper into the depression of the cushion, then read on.

Wendy

I have decided to forgive your rude behavior. I

also need to talk to you. Can you come to Wichita

today? It's very important. I need your opinion.

Nicole

I stared at the letter. It wasn't like Nicole to value my opinion. Something really bad must have happened. I glanced at the clock. If I left within the next half hour, I could be there by noon.

I pulled on jeans and a tee shirt and ran a comb through my hair. After setting out food and water for the cat, I called Nicole. There was no answer, so I left a message on her machine and hurried to my car.

I groaned. The tire was low again. I drove the three blocks to the self-serve pumps and aired up the tire; then I was on my way, praying I'd make it the sixty miles to Nicole's before the tire lost air again. Next payday, I'd have to get that slow leak fixed.

An hour later, I drove into Nicole's driveway. I parked beside her new red Corvette, my dented '87 Ford Escort a glaring reminder of my social status. Rust spots peeked through the scarred white paint. I was keeping my fingers crossed that my Escort would last awhile longer. It still got good mileage. A new car would be nice, but that was definitely out of the question. I sighed, scrambled out, and headed down the sidewalk.

Nicole met me at the door. There was a suppressed eagerness about her as she stepped aside and motioned me in. She led the way to the living room and waved me toward the couch.

So, I paused, looking around. I raised my voice over the volume of the television. Scrubs was on. What's so urgent? I scooted onto the overstuffed gray tweed couch, one of those huge modern sofas made for looks instead of comfort.

Nicole sat on the opposite end of the couch. She turned the TV off and leaned toward me, her voice low and excited. Guess what I'm going to do? She scooted closer and she flipped her blonde hair back with a toss of her head. Go on, guess.

I raised my brows. No telling.

She grabbed my hands and squeezed them tight as she leaned into my face. I'm buying a house! Great bargain. I want you to see it.

A house? Wow!

Isn't this a kick? she giggled, withdrawing her hands. She grabbed her car keys from the coffee table. The agent said to call when you got here, and he'd meet us there with the key. Then I can take you inside to have a look. Andy—he's the real estate agent—gave me a hard sell and a price I couldn't pass up. Gre-a-t bargain, she repeated, drawing out the words as she dialed the realtor's number.

I was touched that she wanted to include me in her exciting new venture. I decided to keep my opinion to myself if I didn't like the house.

Nicole finished the call, then jumped up like a cat with a flea bite. Let's go!

We went, Nicole driving her red Corvette. I still couldn't figure out how come Nicole had decided to buy this house out of the blue. Or why it was important that I help her make the decision. Maybe something about the house bothered Nicole, and she was hoping I would talk her out of buying the property.

As we fastened our seatbelts, I asked, So this decision of yours . . . it's kind of sudden, isn't it?

It is,