Welcome to the Strange

By Daniel D.F. Frost

A fire breaks out inside a college dormitory building in a small community in Nova Scotia, where a young student is dragged from her room. She isn't breathing. A fellow student heroically resuscitates her, but when she is brought back, she unwittingly brings something back with her; something sinister.

David Fletcher is your average Monday to Friday customer service worker at an automotive dealership, who speaks sarcasm as a second language. When he and his better half of five years, Laura, are spending a lazy Saturday afternoon together, they receive a simple phone call that changes their lives forever; a phone call that David believes is a sick prank. Later on, He discovers that the phone call wasn't a prank, but the premonition of a young girl's death.

David's normal, safe life takes an abrupt turn into the paranormal, and dangerous. Will he be able to stop the thing that is coming for his friends and family? Hear the story from his perspective as he invites you in and welcomes you to the strange.

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel D.F. Frost
• Release date: Apr 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386202684

Book preview

Chapter One 

Isuppose I should tell you a little bit about myself. My name is David Fletcher. I'm 29 years old, a generally quiet person, and most people who've met me would say I'm a bit of a sarcastic tool. I'm sure my reputation would probably be worse if I talked more, as I don't have much of a word filter. I don't really act that way on purpose, it's not like I make an effort to get on anyone's nerves or anything, but, it's been known to happen once in a while.

I grew up in a 3 bedroom bungalow with my mother and older sister in a quiet fishing community that no one has ever heard of besides locals and the occasional tourist. My father passed away when I was barely a toddler, and I now live in just as small of a community in western Nova Scotia. That's right, I'm Canadian. And no, I don't live in an igloo, I don't put maple syrup on everything (in fact, I don’t even like it), I don't go moose hunting, and I don't say 'eh'. I'm sure I missed a few stereotypes, but I just might have burst your bubble.

I'm a fairly big guy; a shade over six feet tall, heavy set and built rather wall-like (no washboard abs on this guy, let's be real,  I'm no movie star). I have very short, brown hair, hazel eyes, an average sized nose, and my jawline is covered in a thick, yet short beard. I have four horseshoe style titanium earrings in each ear, and I have more tattoos than I have fingers. Basically, I'm a biker without the bike. My wardrobe mostly consists of jeans and t-shirts, with the odd pair of black cargo pants and plaid button-up overshirts for special occasions. You'll never catch me dressed in anything formal, and if you ever see me in a suit, I'm probably in a casket at my own funeral.

As I mentioned, I have a very sarcastic personality, and I'll be the first to admit that I'm a major smartass, but that doesn't mean I'm a bad person. In fact, I'm usually a nice guy; polite and generous unless I have a good reason not to be. I'm the type who would do anything for anyone, and I'd rather go without something than see someone else go without – as long as it isn’t expected or demanded of me. Yes, my friendliness is somewhat conditional, but simple and ultimately fair. If you're friendly, you'll get the same in return. If you treat me like crap, you'll get that right back too.

Anyhow, that's enough about me, personally. I just wanted to give you a little 'heads up' about who I am, before you start to hear my story and think 'Wow, that guy is a dick'. So, there you have it. My name is David, and this is my story.

IT WAS A HORRIBLY HOT and damp Saturday afternoon in late July. The humidity was unreal that day, it seemed like it would have been cooler if I'd lived in a damned sauna. It had been like that for weeks; rain, fog, mist, anything to make things feel damp, sticky and gross. Maybe that doesn't sound too bad to some of you out there, but when you've lived by the ocean for your whole life where it's normally breezy and cool, it's hard to adapt.  Screw you very much, nature.

I was watching a movie with my better half of five years, Laura. She's a few years older than me, a little over five feet short with long dark hair and a few facial piercings. Call me biased, but she's cute as hell too; a natural beauty that doesn't use or need makeup. She's got a great personality, always friendly and cheerful to everyone and always wears an infectious smile - even when things get tough. She's the type of person that everyone wants to be around, which makes us polar opposites. I've described her before as 'so bubbly, it's almost nauseating', a description that suits her very well, and I wouldn't change her for anything.

We had our ceiling fan on full blast, as well as two other stand-up fans blowing miserable hot air at us. I didn't have an air conditioner at the time, but the fans were certainly better than nothing. They didn't help much with the humidity, but if anyone had tried to turn them off, they would've stood a good chance of being dropkicked. Seriously, I can move for a big guy.

The movie we were watching was a sad attempt at a comedy. I can't remember the title for the life of me, which, believe me, is no big loss. It barely kept my attention at the best of times, but Laura seemed to be enjoying it, so I didn't say anything and rode out the storm. I kind of zoned out and went into my own little world while she watched, thinking about how we met and got together.

Laura worked at a financial institution, one of those rob-you-blind pay day loan sharks, and I was her sucker (I mean, customer) at the time. I had been a student at the local community college, enrolled in what's called the Adult Learning Program, which earns the equivalent of a high school diploma. That's right – a bigger guy without a six pack, a grade twelve education, and a sarcastic attitude. That's considered the 'total package', isn't it? I hadn't finished high school in the traditional way, as I had been removed from the school at the age of sixteen after being attacked and blindsided by some asshole a few years older than me. I got my face smashed in pretty good, and the directors of the school thought it was a good idea if I didn't return; 'For violent reasons', I believe is how they put it. Anyhow, I was attending the community college and my car had broken down, so I had gone in to see Laura about a loan to fix the horrible two-door orange Pontiac monstrosity.

While we were going over the paperwork, we got talking about where we'd came from, what schools we went to and so on. She had grown up about an hour away from where I did. Come to find out later in our relationship, we had met once when we were kids. Myself being the nerdy eight year old, and she was the much cooler twelve year old hanging out with her friends. She obviously didn't notice me at the time, and me being eight years old, I wasn't interested in girls yet so I didn't notice her either.

Laura had rock music playing from the speakers at her desk that piqued my interest, as I am a huge fan of rock music myself. I asked her what radio station she had going, but it happened to be her own playlist that she had created on her computer. It was a pleasant surprise to come across a fellow rock-head, and quite rare, as most people in this generation seem to be either into the hip-hop, rap, or where we lived in the countryside, there were a lot of country music fans around as well. Personally, I’d rather listen to someone dragging their nails down a chalkboard than listen to rap, or country for that matter. Twang irks me.

While I filled out the loan papers, ready to give a blood sample and practically selling my soul, a couple of songs had played that I have on my own playlist. That sparked up a conversation, as we got to talking about the music we had in common. I introduced her to a few bands she hadn't heard of, as well as movies and such. She's also a big reader - always has a book in her hands in her spare time. We hit it off instantly, which was something I had never experienced before. She gave me her number, I gave her mine and we text-chatted all of that evening.

During our late night conversation, we talked about some of our past experiences, and past relationships. We had both recently gotten out of a couple bad ones. She had just broken up with the biggest jackass in history. He was a controlling, lazy, greasy pervert who barely moved out of his own way. Anyone who knew the guy would agree, whole heartedly. On the flip side, I had recently gotten out of a frustrating relationship with a demanding, rude, humour-challenged twit who couldn't take a joke if her life depended on it. Every little thing turned into a fight, and that's just something that happened to be my deal breaker. If you can't handle a joke, or being good naturedly tormented once in a while, I probably won't like you much & vice versa.

A couple of days and lots of text messages later, we started hanging out together after she was done her shift at work and I had finished my classes for the day. We went swimming at this gorgeous sandy-bottomed lake a few times, she would come back to my apartment with me where I would cook for her, or sometimes barbecue if the weather cooperated with me. Those few unconventional dates quickly turned into us spending all of our free time together, and we've been inseperable ever since. I don't know how she put up with me back then, and I especially don't know how she still puts up with me now.

Don't get me wrong, we're not one of those sickening couples you may want to slap for being overly affectionate all the time, or the tacky couple that obscenely make out and basically dry hump each other in public. In fact, we're just the opposite. We playfully make fun of each other a lot, we're constantly razzing each other and giving one another a hard time. We greet each other when we get home with something along the lines of 'Hey jerk-ass, how was your day?' And I wouldn’t change it if I could. You've got to be able to joke with each other, right? We have a lot of inside jokes and even made up words that no one would ever understand if they heard a conversation between the two of us. I can just imagine a whole lot of 'what the hell is wrong with those people' reactions.

I had quite suddenly been snapped out of my thoughts, and back into reality by the sound of the phone ringing. It rang twice before Laura answered.

Hello? She said, pausing for a moment before repeating herself. Hello?

She didn't get any reply. Laura looked at me, shrugged her shoulders and pressed the 'end'  button on the phone.

Who was that? I asked.

No idea, she said. Nothing came up on the display. If they need something, they'll call back.

I nodded in agreement. The phone rang again a few seconds later. Laura answered it, on speaker-phone this time.

Helloooo? she said almost irritatingly.

I heard an odd crackling sound from the speaker that sounded oddly like a wood fire, but no one replied. I could faintly hear what I thought was someone's quick, shallow breathing.

I spoke up and asked Who is this?

Unfortunately, I did get a response; certainly not one that I had been expecting. There was a near-deafening scream of what sounded like a little girl. Laura and I both cringed at the sheer volume of it. My cat, Swarley ran out of the room like his tail had caught fire. Barely a moment later there was a loud, low pitched 'boom' like an explosion - something like what you might hear in an action flick when a bomb goes off. The line went dead. The noise was loud enough to make my ears ring, and I still don’t know how that much sound came out of the speaker of a basic cordless house phone. We sat in silence for a moment or two, both a bit creeped out and stunned, not knowing how to react.

What in the actual hell just happened? I finally asked.

I don't know, Laura said. But it freaked me out and my ears hurt.

Uhh, yeah, little bit, I replied. Did it say who called? Was there a number left or anything?

She looked through the previous callers.

Nothing, she said, confused. No blocked number, no anything, like it didn't register or something.

I grunted. Probably some sick attempt at a prank call. What ever happened to prank calls being funny? Nobody has a sense of humour anymore.

Yeah, Laura said. I hope that's all it was.

Well, what else could it be? I asked rhetorically.

We were both still a bit uneasy, but got back to the movie after a few minutes. I was a bit more distracted than before, which certainly wasn't a big loss to me as I hadn't been paying attention to it for the most part anyway. After the movie finished, we decided to do a bit of video gaming. It was a lazy Saturday after a long week of work, so we usually like to take most of the day to relax and wind down. I worked at a Ford dealership in the service department, and after dealing with more cranky customers than usual that week, I thought some winding down was especially needed.

We turned on a multiplayer roleplaying game called Diablo III on PlayStation 3. It's a violent, bloody game where you have to save the world from the lords of Hell. Sweet, right? Laura and I are both gamers, which is another quality I never had in past relationships. In addition to her being simply awesome, she's as big of a gamer nerd as I am. Score.

Later that evening, after we kicked some serious devil ass on Diablo, we decided to go for a drive just to get out of the house. The humidity and heat was still stifling, so I had been really looking forward to the drive with the air conditioning cranked up, destination nowhere. I didn't care if I burned up a full tank of gas, it would be worth cooling down for a while. So, we got into our little blue Hyundai Elantra which Laura gave the nickname 'Beauty', and left home.

It was a nice drive for about fifteen minutes, until we got behind some old guy going twenty-five below the speed limit. Now, on top of all my glorious traits, I also get road rage. Normally, I'd just grumble a bit, maybe curse at him, then pass him when I got the chance and forget about it. However, it was one of those irritating days that every chance I got to pass him, there would be another car coming in the opposite direction. That's one of my worst pet peeves ever, almost as bad as people who 'smack' their food – I can feel my blood pressure rising just thinking about it. If I have heard you audibly chewing, I have fantasized about your death. Anyway, there was nothing I could do about the obnoxiously slow driver but wait for the golden opportunity to pass.

Finally, after what seemed like two hours, the tortoise-mobile pulled off onto another road. I may, or may not have given them a one-finger salute... Okay, I might have. Seriously though, be a courteous driver. If you're going significantly slower than the posted speed limit, and you have vehicles behind you trying to get by, don't be a tool - just pull over, please. See? I asked nicely.

After that endeavour, I wasn't paying much attention to anything but the road and the music playing. The cold air felt great, and for the first time in a while I didn’t feel like I could pass out from heat exhaustion. We were listening to one of my favourite rock bands, Volbeat. They're pretty great in my opinion- a lot of their stuff is like 50's or Western music meets hard rock. I find driving with loud music relaxing and extremely therapeutic. That, combined with the relief from the heat was damn near euphoric.

Laura spoke up and got my attention.

Umm, David? Look, she said, pointing off into the distance.

I could see black smoke rolling up over the trees from about a couple miles away, I mean a lot of it.

Hmm, I mumbled. We should go check it out.

The closer we got, the smoke got thicker. It filled the air like a thick, black fog.

Jeeze, must be a pretty big fire. I said.

And it was. When we got there, we saw the big, old two-story house engulfed in flames. There were no vehicles in the driveway, and we were hopeful that there were no people inside the house. We were the first ones on the scene, which probably wasn't that unusual for being such a small community. There were no fire trucks, there were no paramedics, just us. I got out of the car, stayed a safe distance away and watched as Laura quickly got on her cell phone and called 9-1-1.

I’m calling to report a house fire, she said, panic in her voice. We’re at 245 Eden Road. I don't think anyone’s inside, but you'll want to get here fast or there won't be anything left to save...

She was interrupted by a high-pitched scream coming from inside the house. It sounded exactly like what we heard on the phone just a few hours before.

We both just looked at each other for a second or two, almost in disbelief that there was actually someone inside the burning house. My fight-or-flight reflex kicked in, and I took off at a run toward the house, to get whoever was in there, out. Unfortunately, I didn't get very far.

I don't remember much of what happened then, other than being about ten feet away from the house when I got hit by a nearly ear-rupturing BOOM accompanied by the sound of glass breaking, and a bright flash of white, orange, and red. The last thing I remember was feeling like I got hit by a thousand mile-per-hour blast of hot wind, and sailing a few feet through the air. Queue dramatic music.

Chapter Two

Iwoke up in a hospital bed, my head aching, dazed from the blast and whatever magical substance had been running through my IV line. I was surrounded by machines and monitors, the sounds of beeps and clicks from the machines felt like they were amplified much higher than they were. It felt painful, very similar to small noises like a dripping faucet making a migraine worse.

My face hurt, my arms hurt, everything hurt. I had cuts, scrapes and bruises pretty much everywhere, along with what felt like the worst sunburn in recorded history, from the heat of the explosion. All in all, I was lucky, considering what could have happened. Also, whoever created the painkillers that were being pumped through my veins, I was just about ready to bow down to worship them.

Apparently, I had been out cold for quite a while. Laura was asleep in the chair next to my bed, when she heard me grunt when I woke up, she practically jumped right out of her chair in joy and relief.

Oh, good Lord, finally you're awake, she said, a tone of great relief in her voice. How are you feeling?

I'm sore, and high as balls right now, but I'm alright, I said, certain that I was slurring my words a bit.

The doctor told me that you have a moderate concussion. You'll be sore and lamed up for a few days, but we should only have to spend a night or two here so they can keep an eye on you. They said you should take a few days off work and rest. Laura breathed another big sigh of relief. You were really lucky though, a chunk of wood barely missed your head when the place blew up. And for the record, if you ever do anything like that again, you'll have a lot more than a concussion, you'll have to see a butt doctor to get my shoe out of your ass.

Ha, butt doctor, I replied. Good to know. So how long was I knocked out? Was there really somebody in the house when it blew? Are you hurt at all?

Easy, Tiger, she said. "One question at a time, don't get yourself worked up. I'm fine, I was far enough away and ducked behind the car. A pretty big piece of something busted the driver's window, but that could have been a lot worse too. I'll call to get it fixed