Way to Go

By C.S. Caspar

In the beginning we find Jack Hammond driving his old yellow school bus, and Jack isn't a very nice fellow, in fact, he's quite disgusting. As he moves the bus through Blackall, he notices quite a lot, but these naughty thoughts distract him, and it only takes a moment.
Laura is sitting in a cafe watching the Way to Go Bookshop across the street when she receives a phone call. All this seems quite normal, except it isn't. When she enters the bookstore, she discovers it's not a real bookstore; this store is strange indeed.
Soon we are following Laura into a supernatural world where a dark psychology chronicles her illusions. She has but one choice, and even though she doesn't know it at the time, her survival depends on it. But choices can be fickle things; when we think it's right, it might be wrong, and anyway, who's taking score? The answer may be surprising, however, there is one thing I can guarantee ...
Way to Go will linger in your mind long after you've put it down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.S. Caspar
• Release date: Mar 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311779120

C.S. Caspar

Hi Everyone, I was born in South Australia but spent most of my childhood in Victoria. The Tallyman was my first short story, and I wrote it simply because I love Stephen King. I wanted to honor and thank him for the amazing journeys I've traveled reading his books throughout the years. The Tallyman is a bit of fun and directed to other King fans who will understand the content. The Old Railway Tunnel was my second short story. Thomas had a tale to tell and he was so demanding, I wrote the first draft in one sitting. Immediately after finishing, Laura Cooper wanted a turn, so I wrote Way to Go. Stygian River... is one of those tales I was told while living in Italy in my twenties, which the storyteller 'swore' the stories were all true..:) Hoodie Black is my first full-length novel. A supernatural thriller. It confirms the notion that, 'some doors should never be opened.' and answers the questions to death, crime, time and are angels as flawed as humans. Currently, I live in Victoria. In a small county town with my four border collies, Trixie, Snow, Benson, and Tessa. I'd like to believe, I live my life in-between this world and another... viewing daily events from a dream that seems real but may, in fact, be an illusion. And I wonder, sometimes, when writing the visions I see in my head. Fantasizing about other worlds with its incredible characters. And it often leaves me questioning....Is this my imagination? Or are the events real? Imagination may just be, someone tapping into true events. Stories that happened in a parallel world. Thanks for visiting. Catherine Stepancic - C.S. Caspar

Book preview

WAY TO GO

By

C.S. Caspar

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 Catherine Stepancic / Caspar

Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes

Thank you for downloading this eBook. This Short Story remains the copyrighted property of the Author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this Short Story, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favourite authorized dealer. Thank you for your support.

Townsfolk never forget… do they? People in small towns like to make up stories. Even if they’re not true, they'll make you believe them anyway. Laura heard their mutterings; she heard them in her head… malicious whisperings…those lying, backstabbing town trolls.

* * * *

The yellow school bus stopped at the amber lights. Jack knew he wasn't going to make it through the intersection before they signaled red. He wasn't in any hurry this morning. No point in taking chances. There was plenty of time. He had one more pick-up; the freckled faced Simpson kid at Ford Junction. Shortly after that, he could unload this horde of diseased and sniveling cesspools at school on the other side of town.

Jack Hammond hated kids. After 15 years of driving a school bus you'd hate them too. Still, Jack was reasonably proud of himself. He'd never had a bad enough incident to warrant any mentioning.

Jack’s large posterior overflowed in rolls of bouncing blubber and he shifted in the driver's seat, groaned then rubbed his nose waiting for the lights to change. It was the same event, day after day, year after year.

Removing a perfectly folded and ironed handkerchief from his pant pocket he blew his nose while taking score of the last kid in the walkers moving across the street. Maybe it was the kid's clothes, his dreadlocks or that blazing tattoo on his forearm: A skeletal torso and skull, its rictus grin just above a bony hand wrapped in a fist, thumb pointing skywards.

On the other-hand. Maybe, it was that Jack didn't like bludgers. Or devil worshipers as he liked to call them. Because if you didn't believe Jesus Lives. Then you were a rotten infidel and people like that had no respect for their betters.

The thought made him sneer in disgust, so he planted his foot on the accelerator, revving the engine. The exhaust blew smoke in clouds of toxic black and he did it because he wanted the kid to eyeball him. However, his effort was in vain.

Wearing headphones, the kid either didn't hear or just ignored it.

Jack began grinding his teeth. He did that sometimes when he couldn't express his frustration.

Jack Hammond, a phobic, was a God-fearing, churchgoing, God-loving Christian who believed in a hard day's work for a hard day's pay. And if you were not a God-fearing, churchgoing, God-loving Christian, then you were working for the Devil.

Jack's critical eyes continued to watch the kid when the back of his T-shirt came into view. WAY