Step Thing

By William Cole

Something evil lays dormant beneath the streets of Helbourne, Massachusetts, waiting... waiting to once again possess its host. A freakish car accident and the blood of an unborn fetus and its mother awaken that evil. The women on Helbourne have two days to give birth to a male child known as the “perfect” male child. For a father is coming for his son...

• Language: English
• Publisher: YourSpecs
• Release date: Mar 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9780744311181

William Cole

WILLIAM COLE grew up in the era of horror icons such as Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi and Lon Chaney. Inspired as well by Wes Craven, George Romero and Sean Cunningham (best known for Friday the 13th), he began to write his own horror stories. William Cole describes his stories as unique, mysterious, gory, graphic and psychologically terrifying. He has lives in New York all his life and he knows how to scare the be-jesus out of you! His stories will forever haunt you.

Book preview

Step Thing

by

William Cole

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents

either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously,

and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business

establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2016 by William Cole

SmashWords Edition

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

These words that follow hereinafter are of my deepest appreciation of family, collected friends both old and new and business associates. Shout-out to Bill Holland and remembering Geneva Powell Holland. Shout-out to one of the best of the best cousins, Donald A. Key, Absecon,NJ. Leeanna Couplin, Absecon,NJ. Ja’ nai’ Couplin, Absecon, N.J. Tiphanie and Brandon Hart, Atlantic City, NJ. Khalid Muhammad, Brooklyn,N.Y. Legendary D.J Chuck Chillout, NYC. Jason Jones, Bronx, N.Y. Damien Barnes,Atlantic City, NJ. One of my best new friends Jalen Hill Boy Rhodes of Jackson, MI. Shout-out to Steven Davis, Jersey City, N.J. Shout-out to a great friend John Ross Myrthil, Brooklyn, NY. Shout-out to a good friend "Natficial Fellowmen, Bronx, NY. Shout-out to Senior V.P. Of CW1 Anthony Jones, E. Long Island. Shout-out to my good friends Kyle Lake, Bronx, NY. And Alan Davis, Bronx, NY. Shout-out to Michael A. Wooten, Brooklyn, N.Y. Shout-out to a new good friend Sean Smalls, Bronx, NY. Shout-out to one of the best of best friends, Elie Vickery of Brooklyn, NY. Shout-out to my long-time friend and homie Melvin Carey, Harlem, NYC. Shout-out to a new good friend Thomas P. Brown The Third, of Harlem, N.Y.C. Shout-out to one of the best of the best friends Arthur Butler, Bronx, NY. Shout-out to Dante Powers, Bronx, N.Y. Shout to a good friend Wesley M. Graham, Brooklyn, NY. Shout-out to long-time friend and author Kwame Williams, E. Long Island. Shout to Damien Sauerbrier, Tahoe City, CA. Many thanks for your support. Shout-out to Theodore Catera, Paramount Pictures and Frank Calo – director, Lions Gate Films. Shout-out to a long-time friend Lenny Holloway, Bronx, N.Y. Shout to Roy Grimes, Brooklyn, NY.

Shout-out to Kaleb M. Wilson, Bronx, NY. Shout-out to Precious Love, Esquire Publications who is a strong woman and entrepreneur and stands behind her business. Shout-out to long-time friends Carlton Fredericks, Youngstown, Ohio and Raymond Mc Rinna, Goosecreek, SC. Shout-out to Steven Ibe, Dade, FL. Shout-out to Jo Anne Huguley, Ventura, CA. Shout to Kevon Ja’ Mar Blake, Washington, D.C. In deepest memory always remembering Michael Stafford and Mario Godette.

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CHAPTER 1

Helbourne, Massachusetts was a small, secluded town not far from Salem with a population of forty-six thousand. Helbourne had an uncomfortable humid warmth about it from a thick atmospheric haze that lingered throughout the town. A haze that was said to be bothersome and caused an itchy feeling around the eyes. The evening hours were cooler and brought about a gentle breeze with a light rolling fog that lingered a foot high from the ground up. Helbourne consisted mostly of suburban houses such as one- and two-family houses. Some houses were in need of outside repairs while others could stand a good painting.

The town’s mall was located in the center of town and, like any other mall, it was the liveliest part of town with its indoor mall. It had two restaurants with tables set outside for days of overcrowding or when the haze was at its minimum low. Helbourne was known as a town with revealing idiosyncrasies from its said strangeness. Many townspeople tried to live normal lives and avoid speaking to outsiders of the strange happenings fearing consequence of the unknown. Those that dared to speak of the town’s strange happenings spoke of rumors. Some townspeople claimed the reason for the constant warmth and haze was because of the town being centered directly over purgatory. Some called the haze hellish or the haze from hell because of the itchy eye burning feeling it created.

Others had made claims of talking to a passing civilian during broad daylight for a moment, then the next moment the person would be gone! Simply gone. Rumor also has it that faces of those that vanished had turned extremely hateful looking before their vanishing act. It was a face that read ‘Kill’—like I could kill you, literally.

Today the gentle fall breeze helped reduce the hazy itchy eye feeling in Helbourne. However, only thirty minutes away, Henry Jenkins, in the town of Salem, was in the midst of an argument. Henry Jenkins had been late this Friday morning and his supervisor, Alvin Burman, was fed up. Henry had been called to his supervisor’s office just around 11 a.m.

Look, just give me another chance. I swear this won’t happen again! Henry said. He could feel a lump in his throat making it hard to swallow. Henry was a white man, tall with broad shoulders. He had black stringy hair that stood up all over like the only thing that would keep his hair down or together would be a cut or hair gel. He had been with Burman and Sachs Publishing for twelve years and throughout most of his twelve years of employment, he had been late for work. Henry was thirty-eight years old. His face was sort of broad with no facial hair other than his heavy dark eyebrow.

Alvin Burman walked behind his desk and took a seat in his high-back Italian leather studded chair. Alvin Burman had great taste when it came to the finer things in life. He pulled his chair up to a heavy and highly polished desk and opened Henry’s file. Alvin Burman was a man ready for retirement but too stubborn to retire. He was a fairly large white man with a full oval shaped face. He had a double chin that looked like he had dimples just under his mouth. Alvin Burman was fifty-eight years old. Unlike Henry who was wearing a faded looking tan color, horribly wrinkled suit over a sky-blue shirt, Alvin Burman wore a black Kenneth Cole® suit that fitted him well. Mr. Burman picked up a pair of reading glasses and put them on. He looked over his glasses once before looking into the file and frowned. He seemed to have had read the file with the quickness of a glance and looked up at Henry again.

You’re damn right it won’t happen again, Mr. Burman said, pulling open a drawer where he kept his expensive cigars. Mr. Burman would smoke a cigar whenever he wanted to relax or sometimes from hearing good news. I’m sorry, I... he said and before he could say another word, Henry interrupted.

You can’t—I’ve been a loyal worker here for twelve years. I have bills and I’m still paying a mortgage on my house! Henry said, rubbing his sweaty hands together. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt around the collar. He felt himself breathing heavy as if he had his airway cut off. He began to gently pat his chest while nervously biting his lips.

Mr. Burman wasn’t at all moved by Henry’s excuses and his performance. It wasn’t enough by Mr. Burman’s standards for Henry to keep his job. By all means, I sympathize with your problems, but I have no other choice but to let you go! I feel I’ve been fair! I have given you warnings time after time, so this shouldn’t come to you as a great shock! Mr. Burman said.

Henry folded in his bottom lip. His cheeks had blown up as if he was holding his breath, then Henry exhaled like someone had let the air free out of a balloon. No! Henry shouted and banged his fist down on the man’s desk.

Mr. Burman, however, never flinched. He picked up a gold Zippo® lighter and lit his cigar. He puffed on it and blew smoke up at Henry, and when the smoke cleared, Mr. Burman was wearing a smirk. It was as if