The Witches Have Their Hour

By Jordan Dumer

Comedy, Mystery and some horror I guess surround a small Wisconsin college town. And one student takes his final semester historical essay to seriously. But will our young hero be able to retain his sanity, or will the towns buried horrors destroy his innocence forever on his quest to get a A+?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jordan Dumer
• Release date: Feb 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370758449

Jordan Dumer

I'm grateful my blogging career tanked, because now I can focus on my true passion: Short Fiction.Self taught blogger of humor, poetry, fine art, music and the occult. I was even nominated for best new blog of the year until I wrote a blog post about how Socialism is historically unsound. I wouldn't say I was censored, more like tossed in a black hole to never be viewed again. My nomination was soon revoked.Recently, I've been building a world, a great lake not on any of our maps, a place of unspeakable terror. It goes by many names and expands centuries from the Native tribes to the European Fort to small towns and later a booming metropolis.Most of the stories I've already written in this collection, stories like: The Maltese Codices, Red Cross Over Erie, Spiders Dark Web, Witches Have There Hour and many more, will be rewritten within this universe.I don't plan on blogging or staying connected to social media. I would like to start a website independent of big tech, or maybe a newsletter through an independent email account. I will keep you all updated.And feel free to rate and comment on my stories.

Book preview

The Witches Have Their Hour

by Jordan Dumer

Copyright 20018, Smashwords Edition

I. Hear Dead Silent

Professor Waite stands a man possessed with his clicker device he dubs the little magic wand.His tone was as serious as his glance; but Jack didn't have a clue what he was talking about. All he could hear was a bizz bizz sound from the dull florescent lights on the ceiling between the gray plaster boards.

Jack tries to focus on the Professors slideshow images of what looks like Greeks maybe Romans clad in armor , but his eye lids clung his face like wet rags, distorting his vision. The dull white walls of the room with its black and white checker marble tiles that ran for the door didn't help his situation as he took another one of his long slow yawns.

Jack nods his head as he kept the quit laughter behind his dark sunken eyes. He looks down at his cup-empty. He reaches in his bag and shakes his thermos- empty.

He felt his eyes drift away from the projector towards a girl painting her face in the corner. He looks through her tiny glass mirror and sees a girl in black dress with a bundle of white roses entering the open gates of the cemetery behind him. He knows this girl. He looks down and sees his heart beating through his chest. He looks out the window at the old cemetery.

Its gates stood cross armed, chain locked and empty. Even, the monarch butterflies who were seen dancing within the sanctuary were a rare site too see.

Help us whisper the voices from the old cemetery.

What for? he asks.

Because that's how babies are created Mr. Parson replies Professor Waite.

The classroom roars up with laughs as they turn around to get a good look at Jack Parson, the dumb ass with the brilliant remark. He sat up writing in his notebook. His long dirty blonde hair tied behind his broad shoulders. He was muscular -not from working out muscular- but from working hard.

Next remark like that and you should make him sit in the corner with the dunce cap says L. Ron thirty three, the meaty Football Jersey wearing aggressor with slick back hair sitting next to the scantily clad brunette with daddy issues.

The classroom roars back up in laughter as several of his bro bro's high five and celebrate his comic genius.

Jack slouches down on his chair. Is it weirder that I'm hearing voices or that they quit talking to me? he thinks to himself. He frowns as he looks out the window at the old cemetery with the big heavy gates. He could hear its old metal parts creakhelp us.

Now, Jack has always been a little odd- but this was too much. Was he having an acid flashback? He snickered about the time him and a buddy snuck into one of the graveyards out-of-town during a full moon tripping on acid. I call upon the dead who dwell here. Rise now, and speak too me he chants before turning around to see Pascal jumping over the fence. It didn't help that the cemetery was notoriously haunted..

Or how since that night. He began hearing the voices. But it's probably only coincidental and not a major plot thread of the story he thought. "Lots of