Forsaken

By Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

Jack and John find they share similar powers and the same witch, Yvette DuBois. Under her tutelage, they learn to master their skills and knowledge. Yvette reveals her plans to become far more powerful than the sanctions of the Witch Council would allow; essentially staging hoatile split from the Council.

Learning of Yvette's plans and her startling break from the Council, one of them decides to forego the use of his powers and abandon her, while the other embraces them and succumbs to the temptations of the lovely green witch.

Their tale focuses on a haunted Super Bee automobile that inexorably draws individuals into its web of mystery and occult. As more people are infected by the taste for the occult, the manifestations become more tangible and aggressively malign.

The events build, touching more people as they progress, ultimately culminating in a showdown that leaves many of the participants devastated, dead, or demoralized.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP
• Release date: Dec 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311977847

Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

Ronald Goulden has written novels and stories for thirty years. Having served in Viet Nam as a Translator/Interpreter, He quickly adapts to new cultures and sees a story or an adventure everywhere. He has ‘dabbled’ in witchcraft, though he is not a witch. All of his novels and stories have interconnecting threads that link them into a larger universe, spanning space and time. Some of the links are obvious, while others are very subtle. Some of the events in the stories are based on real life, while others are pure fiction. The distinction between fact and fiction is up to the reader. Having studied witchcraft many years earlier, it had always been in my mind. When I became an IT Director for the Farm Credit bank system in Wichita, I observed the ‘power’ a small group of ladies expressed over others in the bank and their general disdain for many of the men. I had also researched the BTK Killer during his spree and developed a program that allowed me to ‘predict’ his next attacks. As such, I saw the potential for violence in anyone. After being treated rather rudely by the band of bank beauties, I decided to write a story to explain their odd and overbearing personalities. Using newspaper stories and personal experiences, I settled on baby sacrifices and Satanism. While the personalities and physical attributes are based upon real people I knew at the time, their involvement is this story is purely fiction. There are many ‘links’ in this story to the other novels I’ve written over time, essentially building an alternate universe.

Book preview

The Forsaken

Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2015 Ronald N. Goulden

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover design by Ronald N. Goulden

Table of Contents

Prelude

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilogue

Additional Works

PRELUDE

While traveling to Wichita, Kansas on business, I happened upon a local bar called The Fireplace. It was a quaint establishment with a small dance floor and a huge wood-burning fireplace, hence its namesake.

Since it was mid-January and the gusting winds outside made the wind chill factor unpleasantly uncomfortable, I welcomed the heat provided by the huge fire. I found a comfortable chair near the blaze and removed my coat while waiting for a waitress to take my order.

As I sat down in the surprisingly comfortable chair, a pretty young blonde approached, wearing a uniform that seemed entirely inappropriate when the weather outside was taken into consideration.

I looked at the name tag and responded to her query about my order; Hi Susan. I’d like a double brandy on the rocks please.

She smiled at the mention of her name as she wrote my order down and turned on her heel to fill my request.

In my travels, I have found that the simple act of noticing and acknowledging someone’s name brightens their day and they are generally more agreeable to work with.

I held my hands out to the welcome heat of the fire, several feet from me. Within moments, Susan returned with my drink and placed it on the small table to my right. Somehow, she had sensed that I was right-handed.

I handed her a ten dollar bill and waved off the change. I knew she would remain attentive to me through my stay this evening. However, somehow, I suspected she would be attentive regardless of my tip.

For several long minutes, I sat by the fire, sipping my brandy and savoring the warmth offered by the raging fire. I enjoyed the relaxing ambiance of the small tavern.

The bone-chilling cold outside kept most travelers away and consequently, there were few patrons in the bar, other than myself. That was fine with me; I came to relax, not to socialize.

Naturally, I was a bit put out when the doors swung wide open and a haggard-looking man entered with a frigid blast of air that sucked the warmth from the room.

When the man finally allowed the doors to close, the fire resumed its laborious task of warming the room back to a comfortable level.

I put the man from my mind and continued sipping my brandy when I sensed a presence near me. Glancing up, I realized it was the stranger who had entered from the cold.

He stepped forward, between me and the fire and said; I know who you are. You’re The Writer.

I sighed. I had written a few novels and short stories, though not enough, in my estimation, to be noteworthy by any standards. In a way, I was flattered that this stranger came in from the cold and recognized me. I nodded at him.

I’m sure you want to be left alone. You probably get bothered all the time. But I have a story that is imperative that I tell you. Hopefully, you will find the tale worthy of your time and will publish it for others to read and understand.

The man had piqued my interest. I was always in the market for a new story.

This is more of a warning than a story. If you don’t mind ordering me a brandy to help me warm the chill from my bones, we can sit here and I’ll tell you a tale that will frighten you to your soul; not so much by its content as by the veracity of my narration.

I motioned for Susan to refill my drink and provide a drink for my new companion. It looked as though we might be there for a while.

Within moments, the lovely young blonde returned with our drinks. This time I handed her a twenty dollar bill. Again, I waved off the change as she smiled and nodded and returned to her other duties, though keeping a very attentive eye on us.

Finally, the man sipped his drink and settled down in a chair to my right. He began; My name is John Garmon, and I have been involved with Witchcraft and Satanism for quite some time now and have seen worlds not intended for the eyes of man. Throughout history, man has been plagued by the arcane manipulations of a malign sentience...vastly superior to our own.

From the other side of the portal between this world and the next, this sentience has long maneuvered and directed the activities of man; for no apparent reason other than to satisfy its own perverse humor."

Being able to manifest itself in virtually any manner it so desires; this sentience is the cause and reason behind many of the supernatural and supernormal manifestations that man has experienced from his earliest days. As a result, this sentience has been called such things as witches, ghosts, ghouls, vampires, werewolves, etc. However, collectively, in the tongue of humans, it most commonly refers to itself as LAITHRA, which is also the name of that other world from whence it hails.

He continued with his tale through the night. As he talked, I observed the haunted look of the man and his furtive glances toward the door.

Sometimes he trembled from something far greater than the sub-freezing weather outside. He spoke with such conviction and passion that I could not help but believe his sincerity.

As he spoke, I jotted quick notes on bar napkins. By the end of the night, I had a stack of napkins.

When he finished, he stood up, looking greatly relieved. He shook my hand and said; I thank you for your time and the brandy. It has been a long time since I’ve been able to enjoy human companionship. The story is now yours, to do with as you see fit. I hope you choose to publish it and share it with the rest of the world because it is a warning for the world.

Without another word, he wrapped his coat around him and strode toward the door.

The last vision I had of John Garmon was that of snow swirling around him with surprising ferocity. The door closed and the man disappeared from my life.

After having heard his tale, I hoped I might have the opportunity to buy him a drink again in the not too distant future

The incidents in this story are exactly as they were related to me. They have been taken on faith to be true. The only changes made by myself have been in the dialogues and some editing for the sake of clarity.

There is a slight thread of fiction interwoven throughout the episodes to provide a degree of cohesiveness. The fictional part of this story is only a very small part of the overall story. However, I will let you, the reader; determine what is fact, and what is fiction.

Yet, as you read, do be aware that there is a force in our universe which is vastly superior to us. This force looks upon the human race as a plaything. Why this force acts as it does is beyond the scope of our ability to understand.

PROLOGUE

Linda gazed at the dark landscape, concern etched her musical voice. Joe, do you think it's safe for us to be out tonight? The streets look awfully bad, and the radio has announced traveler's warnings throughout the state. The pregnant woman glanced at her husband.

Joe scowled at his young wife, and then opened another can of beer. Damn it, Linda, ever since you got pregnant, you've been real bitchy. I'm an expert driver. I've been driving for twelve years and never had an accident. I'm not about to worry about a little ice and snow.

The young woman flinched at the anger in his voice. But, the radio says that driving is extremely hazardous all over the city.

Joe snarled at a perceived insult to his masculinity. Those traveler's warnings are posted for old ladies and cowards. Remember, 'When the going gets tough...the tough get going.' Don't forget, I was a Marine.

She placed her hands on her distended stomach, I can't forget... I just don't want anything to happen to the baby.

Quit worrying, Linda. Nothing's going to happen. That new Super Bee won't have any trouble traveling on these roads.

Linda turned away as the doorbell rang. That must be Bob and Anne.

See smirked Joe, If they can make it over here in their beat-up old Ford, our brand new Dodge will tear up these icy roads.

As Linda opened the door, Bob and Anne Bartlett entered the room, accompanied by an icy blast of air.

Bob was of average height and build and was wearing a gray pin-striped suit. His face gave the impression of having a permanent smile.

Anne was considerably shorter, barely five feet tall. She wore a tan skirt and a matching sweater that complemented her blonde hair.

Bob stomped his feet and shook the snow from his neat hair. Man, it’s slicker than camel shit out there. Are you sure you want to go out tonight?

I'm surprised at you Bob; you know that I'm not afraid of a little snow and ice. He struggled into his coat, grab a couple of beers and we'll get going.

At Joe's insistence, they allowed themselves to be herded into the car like sheep going to slaughter.

Then, as Joe opened the garage doors, the occupants of the car exchanged silent, frightened glances. They knew that their companion had a reckless tendency about him.

When Joe climbed into the car, he entered an atmosphere so murky with fear that it almost took his breath away and left him feeling empty inside.

Slowly, he looked at the other occupants of the car, and he saw in their eyes the same glow of ecstatic dread that he had seen in the eyes of his Marine buddies who had been mortally wounded and knew they were dying.

In spite of himself, Joe felt a sudden fear well up into his throat. Frightened though he was; his Marine pride would not let him admit that he was afraid. So he shrugged off his fear and backed the car out of the garage and toward its icy destiny.

The tension within the car eased in proportion to the distance traveled. In fact, their spirits had almost reached a normal level of friendly exuberance when an exceptionally slick patch of ice was encountered, causing the sleek blue car to slide out of control.

However, Joe quickly regained control of the car. After relocating his startled stomach, he grinned lopsidedly and commented through pale lips, You're right, Bob. It is slicker than camel shit out here. I think we should be getting home before things get worse. I don't want to scratch the Super Bee.

Suddenly, the car roared with thunderous life as the accelerator glued itself to the floor. This sudden acceleration caused the car to begin spinning uncontrollably.

Anne and Linda screamed hysterically and Bob initiated a stream of profanity like Joe had never heard before, even as a Marine.

Joe could not free the accelerator, so he reached down with his right hand to turn off the ignition; while maintaining a deadly grip on the steering wheel with his left hand.

As his right hand flicked off the ignition, the car lurched violently, as though some unseen force had tried to halt the car's insane progress.

Then the car shot forward, driven by some unseen force in spite of the quiet engine under the hood.

Joe was dazed by the antics of the lurching car and was completely unaware of the road before them. He was more focused on why the car was accelerating.

As the car approached a parked snowplow, it swung sideways, so that an instant later, the point of the plow impacted into the side of the car just behind the front seat, neatly cutting the car in half and instantly killing all of the occupants.

***

Detective Sergeant Frank O'Malley shook his head in sorrow and disgust as the last of the bodies were removed from the two pieces of the blue Dodge.

He stuffed his gloved hands into the pockets of his heavy coat and turned to the patrolman by his side. Why do these fools get out on nights like this?

I don't know Sarge, replied the young man. He looked at the halved car in hypnotic horror, What's going to be done with that?

O'Malley sighed, The insurance company will probably want it rebuilt. There’s a big demand for this type of car. After it’s fixed, they'll sell it to one of the dealerships down south, probably someplace like Joplin or Wichita.

Suddenly, a plaintive wailing, much like that of a baby in pain emanated from the wrecked car, paralyzing the two men with an unexplained dread.

Finally, O'Malley poked at the younger man and said, Hell, it's time for us to get out of the weather... the wind whipping through the wreck almost sounds like a baby. I'm going back to the station, there's nothing more that we can do for these people... it's out of our hands now.

The young man nodded his head vigorously, and then returned to his patrol car.

O'Malley paused while getting into his car and stared at the Super Bee as the wrecker hooked onto the pieces. He shivered from a chill colder than the icy wind and quickly crossed himself as he retired to the safety of his car.

From within the warmth of his car, the old officer gazed at the wreck. The vision of an intense inferno superimposed it over the car. He shook his head and the vision disappeared. However, he knew that it would always haunt him.

Chapter 1

November 13, 1971; Wichita, Kansas:

Larry glanced at his young wife angrily then returned his attention to his work. At least he appeared to be involved with the figures on the papers before him. In reality, he was battling with his conscience.

Larry and Janet Hurst were in the latter stages of a major argument. She had wanted to buy a newer, more reliable car and he had declined on the grounds that they could not afford a new car on his wages.

He hated the thought of financing a car. Damn it. If she could only be reasonable about this, we wouldn’t be arguing. If she could wait a few more months, I’ll have finished my college courses and gotten promoted to an accounting position with a sizable increase in wages as well as a potential bonus. Then we can go out and pay cash for a new car. But, like a woman, she had reasoned that if we're going to get a promotion any way, then why wait to get the new car?

He glared at his wife, who promptly resumed reading the same magazine page that she had been 'reading' for the last hour.

He looked down at their four-year old son, Brian, who was idly playing with an eight-track tape cartridge, entirely oblivious to his parents’ behavior.

A sudden twinge of sadness, inspired by his wife's behavior and his son's idle banging of the tape cartridge caused Larry to throw down his pen in disgust. Get your coat and purse, Janet. We’re going to go trade cars.

She looked up in surprise Why? I don't want you to do something you don't want to do, just to make me happy. She remained seated.

However, her gold-flaked eyes were dancing with excitement. She knew that once again, she had won an argument with her husband.

Now, don't argue. You know that I don't do anything unless I want to.

But he thought to himself, Why are we doing this? I don't want to buy a car.

He stood up and said, Well are you going or not? The car dealers will remain open for several hours yet. But if you want to continue this argument then they'll be closed long before we get out of the house.

She jumped up and ran to her husband and hugged him tightly. Thank you. But, how can we afford it?

Larry shook his head in frustration. We can't afford it, but we may be able to set up the payments so that we only have one or two payments to make before I get my promotion.

After three hours of visiting several of the car dealers in Wichita, they ended at the