In Too Deep

By Ryan J. Bunda

In Too Deep" is a compilation of seven fantasy short stories. If you're looking for something unique and entertaining this book is for you. Ryan J. Bunda's innovative writing style will keep you mesmerized by every page. You won't be able to set it down. Each short story is a separate world where you can experience them vicariously. Lost in the moment, so to speak. "In Too Deep" will not even remotely bore the reader. The plots twist and turn, taking you places you've never been, places you've never seen. A desperately lonely, famous writer looks for love and falls into madness where he leads a double life. A gifted but dysfunctional teenager is a master of videogames, but can he beat a demonically possessed videogame that has stolen his soul? A child incarnated with the curse of the Lycanthrope (Werewolf). A romantic teenage Vampire story. A super-intellegent Golden Retriever's heroism and mischief, a lighthearted read. In Los Angeles a psychic detective hunts a psychic serial-killer. Finally, the true meaning of Tae Kwon Do. I hope these words have captured your interest and you decide to read this book. Take a chance, you won't be disappointed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452096506

Ryan J. Bunda

Ryan is a native of Oshkosh Wisconsin but now resides in Vero Beach, Florida.  He has a passionate and intriguing affinity for writing.  Writing is a way of life for him (Zen-Like).  He grew up on a horse ranch and fell in love with nature.  Today he lives in the city but he desires to return to nature someday.  Ryan has strong family ties that support and nurture him.  At forty two years of age he is still young at heart.  He enjoys reading fiction and nonfiction and is studious about natutre and Native American culture.  Hobbies are avid chess playing, watching movies and playing video games.  Ryan's most ultimate dream is to be a successful writer.  He desires that many readers will enjoy his work.

Book preview

IN TOO DEEP

RYAN J. BUNDA

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2010 Ryan J. Bunda. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 1/6/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4520-9648-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-9649-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4520-9650-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010917088

Printed in the United States of America

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Dedicated to my sister, Debbie for never letting me give up.

CONTENTS

IN TOO DEEP

Chapter One

The New Novel

Chapter Two

It Isn’t Just a Story Anymore

Chapter Three

The Blur between Reality and Fantasy

Chapter Four

A Chance Encounter

Chapter Five

A Dilemma

SPIRITUAL REALITY

Chapter One

Not Just Another Day

Chapter Two

The Street Prophet

Chapter Three

Dean’s Vendetta

Chapter Four

Infatuation of Mia

Chapter Five

Soul Searching

LYCANTHROPE

Chapter One

A New Breed

Chapter Two

Something’s Different

Chapter Three

A Solution

Chapter Four

An Unexpected Pregnancy

Chapter Five

Happy Birthday, Tommy

Chapter Six

Neo Curse

Chapter Seven

The Transformation

Chapter Eight

Thou Shall Not Kill

Chapter Nine

What Do I Do Now?

A WALK ON THE DARK SIDE

Teenage Vampire

Chapter One

Innocent Blood

Chapter Two

A Crude Awakening

Chapter Three

Is Hunter Dead?

Chapter Four

I Still Love You, Lisa

Chapter Five

A Means to an End

CHEYENNE

Chapter One

A New Friend

Chapter Two

Cheyenne’s Mischief

Chapter Three

The Warming of Summer

Chapter Four

The Fourth of July

Chapter Five

A Heroic Deed

KINKY TRICKS

TAE KWON DO

Chapter One

Just Around the Corner

Chapter Two

His First Student

Chapter Three

Second Date

Chapter Four

An Act of Heroism

Chapter Five

The Street Gang

Chapter Six

Dream Dojo

Chapter Seven

The Wedding

Chapter Eight

Tae Kwon Do Competition

IN TOO DEEP

Charlotte was the perfect woman, every man’s fantasy. Her strawberry blond hair cascaded down her back, and her sky blue eyes could melt even the hardest man. She had a shapely, voluptuous body that could play a man’s heartstrings all night long. She wasn’t just a pretty face. She was highly intelligent and had a good, but eccentric, sense of humor. Tough but compassionate, humble but elegant. Charlotte was a private detective in the Windy City, Chicago. But Charlotte wasn’t real. She was a fictional character in a series of mystery-romance novels written by her creator John Harper.

John was an empty shell of a man, regardless of his fame and fortune. He was a dangerously lonely man, the kind of man that women just didn’t want. The sad irony was that all his money couldn’t buy the only thing he truly desired, love. So John Harper was about to go off the deep end and this was his story.

CHAPTER ONE

THE NEW NOVEL

The Charlotte Bliss mystery-romance novels had become very popular over the past seven years. Men and women alike had become enthralled and intrigued by John Harper’s visionary writing style. A cult-like following had made John rich and famous, but utterly miserable.

Why don’t women like me? Why do they treat me like the elephant man? Am I really that hideous? John thought to himself as he was preparing to begin his new Charlotte Bliss novel—the rough draft anyways. His study/den was really magnificent and was his favorite place on earth. He had it custom-made and the cost of the renovation embarrassed him when he told his agent. The walls were dark cedar as well as the towering bookshelves that housed his elaborate and extensive book collection. The solid black oak desk cost him just over five grand, but he wasn’t a pretentious man. He had worked hard all of his life and he deserved a few perks. Expensive gray Berber carpeting covered the expanse of the floor of his domain.

On the opposite end, across from where he wrote, was an entertainment center that housed a big screen TV, DVD player, and an Xbox. Whenever he was blocked, he would take a break and let go of whatever he was brainstorming about. Eventually, Charlotte Bliss would return to him in all her glory.

John Harper, best-selling author, clicked the power button on and the screen of his desktop computer lit up. He had been contemplating the title of his fifth Charlotte Bliss novel for two weeks now. He amusingly typed The Naked Detective on the screen of his Word-processing program. No, I won’t sell out and write pornography, he thought to himself. Even though there were some really hot love scenes in the first four novels, he would never disrespect Charlotte.

His cell phone on the desk next to him began to chime its little jingle. Always when I’m working, he protested in his mind and answered the cell phone. Hello?

Hi, John. This is Jeanne. How’s the rough draft coming? Have you decided on a title? Jeanne was John’s agent.

You know, you have the worst timing, John protested.

Sorry, did I catch you at a bad time? Jeanne said cautiously.

"I just turned on my computer to start, and no, I haven’t decided on a title. But I’m kind of leaning on The Naked Detective.

Jeanne didn’t pick up on John’s sarcasm and replied, Wow. Sounds hot, John.

John was vaguely insulted at the remark and answered, That title was a joke, Jeanne. You know I would never disrespect Charlotte Bliss.

Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve had a hellish morning. This job, being an agent, is really beginning to stress me out, Jeanne replied.

It’s all right. You know how I get before a new project, and by the way, no more blind dates. Those women you set me up with have only one thing on their minds, and that’s my money.

John was desperately lonely, but he didn’t want someone who was merely pretending to like him. He wanted the real thing. Noted and etched in my memory. I’ll let you get back to work. I have a gut instinct that this Charlotte Bliss novel is going to be the best. Good-bye, John.

Good-bye, Jeanne.

John flipped the cell phone shut, disconnected with the real world, and began to transcend into the realm of Charlotte Bliss. It was always a pleasant journey, but on this journey, he would never return.

The words began to spill onto the screen with delicate precision. John Harper was a natural at writing and comprising stories with limited education and virtually no literary training. The things he had learned were self-taught, and his writing was a gift from God. But he was torn apart on a daily basis because he knew that he would never find intimate love. All of that would change today, but John Harper would lose touch with reality on his quest to find love. John fell into madness.

After describing the setting of the first scene, same as the four previous novels, the story began. In this novel, John would have her, every part of her—her beauty, her heart, her soul, her mind, and her body. It all made sense to John now. Charlotte Bliss was his. A warm wave of bliss flowed over his heart when he saw her sitting behind her desk cluttered with various files and paperwork.

Charlotte looked up from the file she was reading with her usual demeanor, tough but compassionate, humble but elegant. Charlotte Bliss, private detective. How may I help you?

John smiled shyly. I know who you are.

Really? Have we met before, Mr… . ? Charlotte inquired.

I’m John Harper. I created you.

John spoke the words, but Charlotte had no idea what he was talking about.

Excuse me? Did you say that you created me? What does that mean exactly? Charlotte asked with growing confusion.

I created you, I mean I’m a writer and you are a fictional character in my novels. John thought that this would be so simple, but he was wrong.

I think you have the wrong office. I’m not a psychiatrist and you are obviously nuts. Charlotte Bliss was beginning to grow very angry.

You have to obey me. I created you. I love you. John had no power in this realm of Private Detective Charlotte Bliss. Charlotte shifted out of her swivel chair and posed in a jujitsu stance with blood in her eyes.

I’ll have to warn you that I’m a third-degree black belt in jujitsu and a second-degree black belt in tae kwon do. If you don’t leave my office in thirty seconds, I will kick your balls so hard they will get lodged in your throat. Look, I don’t want to hurt you. You obviously need some psychiatric help. I can make a call and have someone pick you up. How about that?

Charlotte was as kick-ass as they come, but she only resorted to violence when absolutely necessary. John was stunned; his plan seemed so simple.

No. I’ll leave. I’m sorry for wasting your time. John left her office and found himself back in his study, staring at the computer screen. He saved what he had written and logged off, then retired to the Xbox at the opposite end of the study. He played for the next few hours. He was oblivious to what had transpired in his mind and in his computer.

A double life had manifested that bizarre morning, but this was only the beginning.

CHAPTER TWO

IT ISN’T JUST A STORY ANYMORE

For the next two days, John just lounged around his humble abode in his boxer shorts, watching movies and eating junk food. Halfway through a bag of nacho cheese Doritos, sprawled on his too-comfortable sofa, his cell phone began to chime its’ too-familiar jingle. He knew before he answered that it was Jeanne, his agent, and he would be bombarded with inquiries about his rough draft.

Hello?

Hi, John. Jeanne here. How’s it going? Jeanne asked cautiously.

How’s what going? Me or the rough draft? John was aggravated that he was disturbed from his lounging.

Hey, I’m just looking out for you, John. I’m not trying to probe up your butt and look around. John chuckled at the remark and answered, I’m fine, Jeanne. Pounding out the pages just like always.

So what’s this one about? Jeanne inquired but knew John would never disclose that information.

How long have you been my agent? Seven years, and you know I don’t tell you shit when I’m composing a story.

I had to try. I know the immortal words of Ernest Hemingway are religiously practiced, Jeanne surrendered.

That’s right. Never talk about what you’re working on to anyone. A story is sacred. Talking about it takes power from it. Its essence cannot be altered was John’s testimonial.

You’re such a hippie, John, Jeanne replied playfully.

Yeah, an eighties hippie, John debated.

Do you still listen to that eighties radio station when you write? Jeanne asked.

Of course, you don’t mess around with something that works. Besides, I love that music.

Okay, John, I’ll leave you to your work. Bye now.

Bye, Jeanne.

John flipped his cell phone shut and went back to watching his movie.

That night, John couldn’t sleep. All he could think about was how incredibly beautiful Charlotte Bliss looked in her office three days ago. That was the first time he had ever seen her in person. Even though she threatened to kick his balls so hard that they would get lodged in his throat, he was still excited all the same. This illusionary obsession was beginning to become stronger and more dangerous.

John obsessed about that. He had to find a different way to win Charlotte’s love. Tomorrow he would try a different approach and he was confident it would work. After he nodded off and fell into slumber, he dreamed of Charlotte, an intimate dream of their first embrace and the first time they made love.

The next morning John woke, stirred the covers off with his feet, and rubbed his tired eyes. The bedroom was filled with golden sunlight and the thought of Charlotte made him think for a split second that he was in heaven. An epiphany, he mused. Charlotte would take him to heaven. The beginning of a dangerous psychosis would be an accurate observation. With light feet he made his way to the kitchen to make a cappuccino.

Espresso and steamed milk tantalized his taste buds as he drank. Like for most people, this is an essential morning ritual and an enjoyable one. After he wiped away the cobwebs of sleep, all he could think about was turning on his computer and trying to win Charlotte’s love. This time he would change his appearance and request private detective services from Charlotte Bliss.

After breakfast, he went to his study to begin, and after he logged on, he was there, back in Charlotte’s office. She was the same as before, behind her desk, studying a file as she looked up.

Charlotte Bliss, how may I help you?

Her sky blue eyes melted John’s heart as he spoke, You’re a private detective, right?

That’s what it says on my door, and you are?

John thought up a name. Jack Palintine. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bliss.

You can call me Charlotte. Why do you need my services, Mr. Palintine?

Jack is fine. My fifteen-year-old daughter is missing and the police won’t lift a finger to help. Actually, she ran away and I fear that she has fallen in with the wrong crowd, Jack’s character explained.

How long has she been missing? Charlotte inquired.

Two weeks and I hear from her previous friends that she has taken up with a dangerous street gang.

What do you mean by previous friends? Charlotte asked.

Well, Samantha, my daughter, was a good kid, an honor roll student. But some degenerate got her hooked on drugs. Heroin, I think. After that, she stopped associating with the good kids and she changed into a monster. Stealing to support her habit, she got expelled from school for fighting. I have to find her. I have to help her. Get her into rehab and straighten her out. I love my daughter very much, John’s character explained.

Okay, Jack, I’ll take the case but my services run at two hundred a day plus expenses. Is that agreeable?

Whatever it takes, Charlotte. I’ve asked around and everyone says you’re the best, Jack confided.

Okay. I’ll need a list of Samantha’s previous friends and I’ll start there. It was nice to meet you, Jack. We’ll keep in touch with each other. Charlotte Bliss handed Jack Palintine a card with her cell and home phone numbers.

Jack left Charlotte’s office and disappeared into the recesses of John’s imagination. Charlotte strapped on her firearm shoulder holster and slipped her .45 magnum into place. She concealed the weapon with her brown bomber jacket, put her cell phone in her purse, and exited the office. Down on the street, parked against the curb in front of her office building, was Charlotte’s muscle car. An orange-and-black 1968 Chevy Camaro with a 450-horsepower engine. This was her prized possession and she admired its beauty as she walked toward it. She slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the ignition. The powerful engine erupted with fury and she revved fuel to feed its fire. She shifted into drive and rumbled away from the curb and then proceeded to put her foot down on the accelerator. The back tires squealed and left a patch of burnt rubber on the pavement. Charlotte was headed to Samantha’s high school to question her previous friends.

Roosevelt High School was in East Chicago, a good forty-five-minute drive depending on traffic. The traffic was tolerable and Charlotte reached her destination in roughly forty minutes. The Camaro rumbled to the curb in front of Roosevelt High School and Charlotte killed the engine. The car door opened and she slid her red boots out and exited the car.

Charlotte entered the front door of the school and walked down the hall in search of the school’s office. The clicking of her boots as she walked resonated through the quiet hallway. She found the office door and entered. Charlotte approached the receptionist across the front desk.

Yes, may I help you? the gray-haired woman inquired.

My name is Charlotte Bliss. I need to have a word with the school’s principal. The gray-haired woman smirked a bit and demanded, Do you have an appointment, Ms. Bliss?

No, but this is very important. I’m investigating the disappearance of Samantha Palintine, Charlotte reasoned.

I’m sorry but Mr. Semor is very busy today. Perhaps I can set up an appointment? At that very moment, Mr. Semor happened to walk out of his office and laid eyes on Charlotte. He was smitten by Charlotte’s uncanny beauty and he spoke to the receptionist.

Mrs. Wheeler, aren’t you going to introduce me to this lovely woman? Mrs. Wheeler rolled her eyes and introduced Charlotte to the ecstatic middle-aged man.

This is Ms. Bliss and she’s investigating the disappearance of Samantha Palintine.

A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bliss. How can I help you? The man was virtually drooling and panting like a horny dog.

Could we have a word in your office, Mr. Semor? Charlotte had this kind of effect on many men and she used it to her advantage.

Absolutely, Ms. Bliss, my office is through here. He pointed to the direction of his office and Charlotte followed his lead.

The receptionist spouted out as Mr. Semor began to close the office door. But, Mr. Semor, you have a meeting in five minutes.

Those old farts can wait a few minutes. This is about a missing student and I intend to comply, he demanded.

Samantha Palintine was expelled from our school two weeks ago, the receptionist enlightened him.

Don’t you have work to do and don’t be such as busybody.

Semor smiled as he closed the office door, goo-goo eyes transfixed on Charlotte.

So, Miss—

Charlotte interrupted, Please call me Charlotte. Charlotte was secretly thinking, Wipe that goofy smile off your face and quit undressing me with your eyes.

Okay, Charlotte, how may I help you?

Well, I won’t take up much of your time. What I need is to have a talk with three of Samantha’s friends. All I need is a half hour. I wanted to question all three together. Charlotte handed the list of the three students to him.

So I take it that you’re a private detective. Look, the police have been all over this. Can I see your credentials? Charlotte showed the proof that she was a licensed private detective. Just a formality, Charlotte, lawsuits. I suppose I can pull the three girls from their classes for half an hour. Semor was practically into the leg-humping stage.

Thank you so much, Mr. Semor, for cooperating, Charlotte said with her silky voice.

Please call me Matt and here’s my card. I took the liberty of writing my home phone number on the back. Call anytime, I mean if you have any questions. Mr. Semor sent for the three girls and led Charlotte to an unoccupied room where she could question the girls. Suzie entered the room first and sat quietly in an empty chair. Next was Cheryl, followed by Jane, and all three had the undeniable look of worry in their eyes.

Charlotte approached the three girls, intending to make the inquiry as delicately as she could.

It’s okay, girls, you’re not in any kind of trouble. I just want to find out who Samantha is running with. What gang did she join?

Cheryl was the first to offer information. There have been all kinds of rumors floating around school, but I believe that Samantha joined the Eastside Dragons.

The Eastside Dragons? Are they just your garden variety gang?

Suzie offered up next, Are you serious? The Eastside Dragons are part of the Japanese mob. They’re heroin dealers and, worse, murderers.

Jane spoke next. Yeah, the Eastside Dragons’ leader Kwon got Sam hooked on heroin and totally corrupted her. Charlotte studied the girl’s eyes. Totally? Jane looked so sad and returned the word. Totally. For the next twenty minutes, Charlotte compiled as much information as she could from the three girls. They all seemed genuinely hurt by the loss of their cherished friend.

So now Charlotte had a lead and she would make a few calls to friends on the Chicago police force and a friend that was recently transferred to the gang unit. Back at her office, she made some calls and the unanimous word was that the Eastside Dragons was the most dangerous street gang in Chicago. The gang was run by the Yakuza, Japanese mafia, and even CPD cringed at the mere mention of the Yakuza.

Charlotte finally got through to her friend Carl who worked in the gang unit of the CPD.

Carl! How’s it going, bud?

Charlotte Bliss, is that you? Carl had the hots for Charlotte but what man that ever laid eyes on her didn’t?

The one and only! Listen, Carl, have you heard much about the Eastside Dragons? Carl was stifled for a moment.

Yeah, what do you want to know? Carl was worried at the mere inquiry.

Where can I find their headquarters? Charlotte asked. Charlotte wasn’t afraid of anything.

Are you crazy? Those guys are stone-cold killers. They run the majority of heroin in the city. They will cut your eyes out for looking at them wrong. What have you gotten yourself into, Charlotte?

I’m on a case, bud, missing girl, Charlotte said with nonchalance.

Drop the case, girl. Drop it and walk away, far away. Carl was dead serious.

I can’t, said Charlotte. I can’t just walk away and let this girl and her father suffer. You know me, a bleeding heart.

Yeah, you’ll be literally bleeding, catch my drift? Carl knew that he couldn’t talk Charlotte out of anything once she had her mind made up so he didn’t even pursue it. Carl knew exactly where the Eastside Dragons kept their headquarters and passed the information to Charlotte.

CHAPTER THREE

THE BLUR BETWEEN REALITY AND FANTASY

John Harper, best-selling author, was falling deeper into the fantasy, deeper into the realm of Charlotte Bliss, even though Charlotte Bliss was a fictional character in John’s series of mystery-romance novels. The reason it sounded complex was because it was in essence very complicated. A double life, the first as a very successful writer and the second as a delusional, very lonely hopeless romantic. It was day three of writing and composing his fifth Charlotte Bliss detective novel. This wasn’t merely his new novel. He had an ulterior motive, a delusional aspiration to win Charlotte’s love, the act of a desperate man, a tragically lonely man. Today he decided that he must derive on a title for the novel, something that honored Charlotte. Then it came to him as if sent from the heavens. Even though it sounded silly, he thought that it was the best title of all time—The Blissfulness of Charlotte. Even though the Cutting Edge Publishing Company, John’s publisher, would never accept that title in a million years, John thought that it was solid.

John spent the morning outlining the plot, working out all the angles. Ecstatic over the legendary title, he composed and he contemplated the future of himself and his relationship with Charlotte Bliss.

About one in the afternoon, the front doorbell rang at John Harper’s home and he was jolted out of deep thought. Who could be calling today? Probably UPS with a package of some sort, John reasoned in his mind. Dressed in his bathrobe, he made his way to the front door and answered it. As he pulled open the door, he was surprised to see Jeanne, his agent, standing in her petite posture.

She was an attractive woman, no Charlotte Bliss, but she had pleasant features. Medium-length brown hair that had the look of