Whispers Beneath a Funeral Sky

By James D. R. Horn

This collection of ten fantasy and horror stories whirls the reader through worlds where murderous mushrooms roam an accounting office, hair becomes deadly, and a dumpster becomes a bullied boy's ally. In other tales, a school janitor encounters the supernatural during his night shift, a deranged cat wanders the city streets causing havoc, and an ordinary yard sale becomes the site of a highly unusual time warp. Explore more strange encounters by paying close attention to Whispers Beneath a Funeral Sky.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James D. R. Horn
• Release date: Jan 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311853424

James D. R. Horn

James Horn is a graduate of the University of Nebraska Omaha. He won first place in the Prose division for a contest at Northeast Community College in Norfolk, Nebraska for his story, The Funeral Train. He won the Kathy Gibson short story award for his flash fiction, Birds of a Different Feather.He currently resides in Omaha, NE with his wife, two boys and two cats.

Book preview

Whispers Beneath A Funeral Sky

James D. R. Horn

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

No part of this work may be reproduced without the express written permission of the author.

Copyright 2016 by James Horn

Published by James Horn at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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 Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover photography: Darren Howes

Cover design: James Horn

Stories . . .

Just Looking

The Wild Hair

The Funeral Train

The Ugly Cat

Birds of a Different Feather

You Smell That

Scent

The Dumpster

El Globo del Diablo

Soul Splitter

Just Looking

The city-wide yard sales, a yearly tradition in our small town, were just beginning to taper off, when the little man in the odd hat showed up. My sale had gone well, despite the typical heat and humidity of late July, but I still had a few odds and ends left to sell. These items included a relic of my late grandmother’s: an old Zenith console color television from the seventies. It was the kind of television that weighed about three hundred pounds, was filled with tubes and wires, and seemed to have at least a thousand dials and buttons. On many a night before her death, my grandma and I sat and watched old movies on the screen of that T.V. The little man in the odd hat nearly ran into three different people who were returning to their vehicles in his effort to get to the T.V.

As he walked around it, quietly exclaiming to himself, I had the opportunity to look him over. Standing just under five feet tall, he was very slight and thin but not sickly. Dressed simply in blue shorts, sandals with socks, and a t-shirt, he emitted an energy that drew me to him.

Hello, I said pleasantly.

Pausing in his examination of the television, he looked up at me. Well, hi there, Bud! he said happily. He was bouncing from foot to foot, like he had to pee.

Are you interested in the TV?

Interested?! he exclaimed. Do you have any idea what you have here? He gestured wildly at the TV.

Well, it was my Grandma’s, I said cautiously. I began to worry that I might have a national treasure marked down to ten bucks.

The little guy scooted around the television set, pointing out various dials and buttons. This is a genuine Zenith Magic-maker! Look here – vertical, horizontal, and even a Z-hold! He wiggled a small knob that I’d never noticed. This thing has a Cobalt gas pressurized tube, eighteen transformers inside and side vents with internal fans to release excess heat! Fan-TASTIC! He had reached the rear of the television. And look! There’s the access panel!

He opened the door on the back of the TV, and with a smile of immense satisfaction, he stepped inside of the television, and closed the door behind him.

My eyes bugged out of my head as I tried desperately to fathom what had just occurred. I rushed over to the TV and opened the back panel. A large array of tubes and wires stared out at me where the little man in the odd hat should have been. I looked around, bewildered, hoping that somebody else had seen him disappear into the television, but no such luck. All of the other shoppers had taken their purchases, gotten into their cars, and left.

I started for the house where my wife was making dinner when I heard the back panel on the television open. The little man in the odd hat stepped out and stretched. I went up to him, hoping for an explanation, when the other man stepped out of the back of the TV.

The newcomer wore an old policeman’s uniform with a peaked hat. He was strangely familiar. He had large eyes, dark hair and a prominent Adam’s apple. As he spoke with the little man in the odd hat, I heard his high, squeaky voice. In my shock at his sudden appearance, I almost failed to notice the man was entirely black and white.

Too flabbergasted to say anything, I looked around hopelessly for other witnesses, as the little man pointed out items on my sale to what had to have been a figment of my imagination. They went from table to table, picking up this and opening that. The officer in black and white picked up an old model of a German U-boat I had made when I was a teenager, and said in his high voice, Andy will just love this! He used to fight these in the war! Yes sir, that’s the genuine article!

The little man in the odd hat approached me, gimlet eyes flashing with mirth. How much for that U-boat model? he asked.

Uh, buck twenty-five, I stammered.

He reached into his pants pocket and held out a dollar.

How about a buck? he countered.

Uh, sure, sure. I took the dollar and put it in my cash box. Turning back toward the little man, I said, Say, how did you -?

I saw the panel on the television close, and he was gone again, taking his black and white friend with him. I hurried to the TV, throwing open the back panel. As before, glass and wire stared stupidly out at me. Slamming the panel closed, I ran up the front steps and into the house. The smell of tater tot casserole assaulted my nostrils as I grabbed my wife’s hand and dragged her outside. There, I explained about the little man in the odd hat and how he disappeared into the TV. She looked me up and down and accused me of having flashbacks from the heatstroke that I’d suffered the summer before. She left me standing there in the afternoon heat feeling like an idiot as she went back to her dinner preparations.

I had no sooner closed the door to my house when I heard the TV panel open behind me. The little man in the odd hat stepped out, brushing hay off of his hat and shoulders.

Hey, You! I had started around the TV, planning to shake the little man by the lapels until he explained his sorcery. I was stopped by the large horse’s head sticking out of the back of the TV.

What the –? I stumbled backward, tripped over my own feet, and fell on my butt.

The little man in the odd hat went to one of the tables. He selected two of my Grandma’s old gardening hats and held one of them out to the horse. I felt the hinge on the door to my mind strain as the horse began to speak. Lips flapping, it addressed the little man.

Nope, green just isn’t my color. The horse’s deep voice resonated from the depths of the TV.

The little man in the odd hat held out another hat. This one was made of straw and had yellow sunflowers on the band.

Wilbur would never let me hear the end of it, but I do love sunflowers.

The little man came over to me, holding the hat in one hand, and stuffing the other hand deep in his pocket.

The sticker on the hat says three dollars. I’ll give you two. He pulled out two bills and held the money out to me.

Now see here- I began.

Okay, two fifty. He added two quarters to the bills and stuffed the lot in my hand. I stood there, holding the money and looking foolish. He walked back over to the horse, and I watched as he cut holes in the hat with his pocket knife and placed it on the horse’s head. The horse wiggled its ears up through the holes, making the hat quiver. The horse blew happily through its nose, and it and the little man disappeared back into the TV.

My rear end still hurt from where I had fallen on it, so I limped over to my camp chair and gingerly sat down. I debated on telling my wife that it had happened again. Two ladies arrived and purchased our old Christmas ornaments and some books, while I sat and pondered the old TV. While my latest customers were going over the items on the tables, I kept hoping that the little man in the odd hat would reappear. Of course, I had no such luck.

I waved goodbye to the ladies as they drove away, and from behind me, I heard the sound of the panel opening yet again. I turned slowly; almost afraid of what I would see when I looked around. I wasn’t really sure what I expected, but it certainly was not the hairy man in a dress, burnoose and earrings that exited the television, followed by the little man in the odd hat.

My legs were shaking as I watched this apparition from TV-land paw through some old muumuus donated to the sale by my Aunt Maggie. Dragging a particularly garish dress off of its hanger with his hairy hands, he held it up to himself and checked his reflection in the screen of the TV. He turned left and right, admiring himself. His hook nose and bushy eyebrows contrasted poorly with the orange and blue flowered muumuu. The hair sticking out of his support hose didn’t help, either.

He folded the muumuu up and stuffed it under his hairy arm. He looked at the little man in the odd hat and said, With a dress like this, the Colonel will just have to give me that Section-8. He handed the dress to the little man. Maybe I can find some earrings to match it, or a scarf.

When the little man in the odd hat approached me, I held out both hands in a stop gesture.

Just take it, I moaned.

Wouldn’t think of it. The dress is five dollars, and I’ll give you a dollar for the earrings my friend has picked out.

The hairy man was holding two cameo earrings up to his ears, and was admiring them in a small vanity mirror my wife was selling.

Yeah, sure, I said, resignedly. They’re yours. As I pocketed the money, I asked desperately, Why are you doing this? How are you doing this?!

Why, everybody loves a yard sale! he said with a wink.

Gathering their purchases, the hairy, hook-nosed man in the dress and the little man in the odd hat re-entered the T.V. and were gone.