The Final One

By Greg Wilburn

Malen was never supposed to know the secret of the clock. Even when he saw the dark shadow within as a boy, he passed it off as mere illusion. Grandma tried to protect him, to push him away from its evil. But with Malen back at the house and Grandma no longer strong enough to thwart its darkness, will the clock's vile soul finally have salvation at the hands of Malen's doom?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Greg Wilburn
• Release date: Mar 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311970855

Greg Wilburn

What is most important about writing is the art of storytelling. I hope that my writing does what a great story should do: make you feel, think, and see something so vividly that it impacts your interactions with the world around you after you've read it. That's because writing is a world all of its own. I write horror, flash fiction, and literary stories that take what we see--even what we want to see--and make it something entirely different. What is most important to this kind of experience is that you leave it saying, "Yep. That was it. And now my world is made anew."I am a writer living in San Dimas, California, and I know that the stories I bring to Smashwords are worth the small contribution I ask. If not, tell me; I want to be a better writer, and I can't do it without feedback. Tell me your thoughts, and show me your stories. Let's share what our imaginations hold together.

Book preview

The Final One

By Greg Wilburn

Copyright 2015 Greg Wilburn

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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THE FINAL ONE

The grandfather clock at the back of the hallway is possessed. I know because I’ve seen the shadow that’s inside of it. Something has always been weird about that clock, and now I’ve discovered its terrible secrets all too late. Like the others before me, I’ve been consumed by this evil creation, left as a forgotten shadow doomed to the bowels of its hunger. And in this hellish sac, I only hear the unfeeling ticking of the clock’s face over the gurgling of its bile.

And the bell! Don’t ever let me forget this bell! Every half hour, agonizing groans fill this putrid space and make the fleshy walls quake. Each slow, drawn-out chime is a dirge grating against the bones