Raising the Seams: Nine Tales of Murder and the Macabre

By Daniel Shields

Raising The Seams is a collection of short stories exploring different elements of horror and the supernatural. "Abbots Inn" and "Three Whirlwinds" explore the greed and deceit which too often possesses the human spirit. "Ghost Walk" and "Transformation Revisited" are in the style of a nineteenth century horror story. "Raising The Seams" and "Last Stop" have modern settings, but draw opon some of the same classic horror images. "Return To Cedar Cove" makes a connection between past and present lives. Finally, "Keetli's Tale" is a love story cloaked in the supernatural.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 20, 2000
• ISBN: 9781469720982

Daniel Shields

Daniel Shields currently resides in Milford, Connecticut. He earned his B.A. and M.A. in English with a specialization in Creative Writing from Southern Connecticut State University. Daniel is currently working towards his Doctorate in Education at the University of Hartford. I Know Where The Horses Play is Daniel's second book.

Book preview

Contents

Acknowledgements

THE DEER IN THE YARD

RAISING THE SEAMS

GHOST WALK

THREE WHIRLWINDS

WRESTLER DEAD

ABBOTS INN

LAST STOP

TRANSFORMATION REVISITED

KEETLI’S TALE

RETURN TO CEDAR COVE

About the Author

For Allison

I do not believe that any man

fears to be dead, but only the

stroke of death

Francis Bacon (d. 1626)

Acknowledgements  

Many thanks to the following:

Dr. Megan Macomber, Professor Tim Parrish, Dr. Steven Laracco, and all those who contributed to this book. A special thanks to all my friends and family.

THE DEER IN THE YARD  

Mr. Bronson stared at the plastic deer which he had placed in his front yard. The plainness of the yard had made him impatient. It had been just like every other yard on the street: well cut grass, neatly trimmed hedges, well groomed trees; but it lacked something, style perhaps. Now, he had that in the form of a beautiful brown, authentic looking, K-Mart special, plastic deer.

Cars had even begun to slow down as they passed his house, drivers thinking this animal—albeit plastic—might run in front of their cars. It did not surprise him when a real live doe approached his ornament. The doe walked slowly, eyeing its newfound love interest. She proceeded to rub against the cold figure, sniffing where instinct told her its genitals were. It was no use; plastic was not going to budge despite the doe’s charms. After fifteen minutes, rejection had taken its toll. She gave up and walked back to the woods leaving her love behind.

The next day, Mr. Bronson heard noises coming from the front yard, and returned to his picture window. The doe had returned, but this time she was not alone. Alongside her was a male deer; its huge figure was approaching, antlers glistening in the wind. Seeing its foe, the deer began to snort, hot smoke coming out of its nostrils. Its adversary did nothing, just stood still. Its gaze, as always, was on the Peterson’s house. Then, with one swift charge it was over. The deer’s antlers shattered the plastic toy, scattering pieces across old man Bronson’s yard. The doe looked on, just as Venus had looked on when a boar emasculated her lover, Adonis. She then rejoined her new lover and walked back to the woods, leaving Mr. Bronson to pick up the pieces of his ornament before any of the neighbors saw it.

RAISING THE SEAMS  

Taylor waited on the curb outside of Pablo’s Market for Leah to get out of work. The city of Baltimore was a strange place at night. Masses of people would gather in the harbor district for the malls, restaurants, and bars. It’s funny how people are often attracted to water, even if it means leaving the rest of the city virtually unoccupied. Lovegrove Street was one of those streets left deserted. Taylor often wondered how Pablo was able to stay in business with only a few neighborhood regulars to keep the store going.

Hey, a voice from behind said.

Taylor turned his head to look at its source. There was an old black man smiling at him. He had a scratchy white beard that needed to be trimmed. His face looked ancient; he was at least in his eighties. His clothes were old and tattered, but the layers of them would at least protect him from the October chills.

I don’t have any money, Taylor said.

Relax, kid, the man replied. It’s not your money I’m lookin’ for.

Then what do you want?

Just a little company. It can get real lonely here at night.

What could it hurt, Taylor thought. He had to wait for Leah anyway, and as soon as she got off work, they would leave.

I’m not much company.

That’s all right, the black man replied. You’re better than a dumpster. You waitin’ for your girlfriend?

Yeah.

I knew it. What are you two gonna do tonight?

Probably just check out a bar or two on Pratt Street.

The black man sat down on the curb beside him. Taylor took in the stench that seemed to be a combination of alcohol, sweat, and urine. Taylor’s designer jeans and leather jacket were a sharp contrast to the badly stained overcoat and pants that the black man wore.

Pratt Street is a popular place now. All the kids love it.

Do you ever wander down towards the harbor? Taylor turned towards him.

He shook his head. They don’t want to see me down there. I might scare the tourists away.

Yeah, maybe.

I’ll tell you something about Pratt Street that you won’t hear in any bar. April 19, 1861, some Massachusetts boys marched through here on their way to Washington. Now, back then Maryland was a free state, but some of the red-necks up here didn’t like too much what was going on. They weren’t going to just let those Massachusetts boys march on through. Not a lot of people know this, but on that day, the first dead of the Civil War fell right there on Pratt street. Next thing you know, Lincoln sent in federal troops, arrested damn near the whole city, police, mayor, councilmen.

You sure know a lot about history for a bum, Taylor interrupted him. How do you know so much?

I was there, the black man said quietly.

You were there?

Yes.

Listen, I know you’re an old geezer, but even you’re not that old.

Believe what you want to believe. I saw it all with my own eyes. I was damn near one of the only people in the city that wasn’t arrested.

Well, if that’s the case, you should be grateful.

Grateful for what?

Grateful that those Massachusetts boys freed your ass.

The black man smiled, his yellow teeth glowing under the streetlight. I’ve always been free.

Whatever, man, I don’t care. I didn’t ask for a history lesson. You sit there and tell me you’ve been around for over a hundred years and I’m supposed to believe it. What do you think you are, a vampire or something?

No, vampires got it easy. They only have to feed. My work is much more complex.

Taylor laughed, Work? You’re a bum. You don’t even have a home.

The world is my home.

Okay, buddy. The world is your home. Taylor turned away from the man.

This here is baseball county, the man said quickly changing the subject.

I don’t give a shit about baseball, Taylor replied. He was becoming tired of the conversation.

I don’t either. I just like to see the pitchers raising the seams.

What the fuck does that mean?

Raising the seams, tightening the cover on the ball to give it rotation. That gives them the upper hand on their opponent. We all do it.

I never picked up a baseball in my life.

You don’t need a baseball to do it.

You know, I’m getting a little sick of this bullshit. If I wanted to hear riddles, I would go to an astrologer.

The black man stood up and pulled a rusty box-cutter out of his coat pocket. Taylor turned to him and jumped to his feet when he saw the tool.

What are you gonna do with that? Taylor shouted.

Nothing, the man replied. It’s for you.

I don’t want it.

It’s not a matter of wanting. You’re gonna need it. He held it out to Taylor.

Taylor decided it would be best to