Closed Eyes

By Lucas Blane

Author Lucas Blanes first collection of short suspenseful tales offers a thrill ride through his imagination.

In Clouds, a young fog fighter determined to protect Frontville from a cloud legend suddenly realizes he is about to become immersed in the fight of his life as dark wings attack his town and change it forever. The Alaskan Hunt tells the story of a man who buys a cabin in Alaskaand slowly starts to go crazy. In Mile of Mayhem, a haunted road transforms into a popular attraction that tests the fears of those brave enough to try it. A crazy inventor works in his warehouse on a creation he hopes will change the world in Suicide Sessions, and Sea Salt tells the story of a psychiatric patient who embarks on a cruise ship vacation to an island without any idea things are about to get very strange.

Closed Eyes shares a compilation of eight stories that invite you on a gripping journey through the experiences of an eclectic group of characters battling their greatest challenges: themselves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Mar 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781480806177

Lucas Blane

Lucas Blane is a young writer who lives in a small town near Green Bay, Wisconsin. Closed Eyes is his first short story collection.

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Copyright © 2014 Lucas Blane.

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ISBN: 978-1-4808-0616-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-0617-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014903606

Archway Publishing rev. date: 03/05/14

Contents

Clouds

The Alaskan Hunt

Like Father, Like Son.

Campfire

Maxilla

Mile of Mayhem

Suicide Sessions

Sea Salt

About the Author

Clouds

LUCAS BLANE

H ave you ever heard of the legend, cl ouds?

If you haven’t, consider yourself lucky.

This is how it goes: "When the wings are in the sky, you know it’s do or die…" The wings we are talking about are black objects. They fly and look like weird alien creatures. We still don’t know what they are or who they are. Some towns get hit worse than others. The normal time between wing attacks is usually every five years. The attacks are always minor, nothing too bad. One town has already had 5 wing attacks this year. I’m from this place that gets record- breaking wing attacks every year, more than any other town. Everyone asks me why I stay. I stay to protect the people of Frontville. This town is a gold mine. Literally, that’s why everyone stays here, for the gold. I’m a part of the fog fighters. Instead of storm chasers, there’re fog fighters. Every big city has a government approved group of men who specialize in fighting a wing. You can’t just kill a wing with any gun, you must use a 727 gun and the 727 ammo. The gun comes in pistol form and shotgun. The ammo according to the style. The bullets have a liquid(this is referred to as the Westlake method by many), when put in the magazine and then inserted in the gun you must charge it. I found it easier to just pre charge some magazines just in case. But that’s just me. Oh I forgot there are also grenades, missiles, and a 727 liquid in the form of a spray. Well that’s all you need to know about the wings and the 727. I hope you enjoy my story.

I was asked to write this tale about the events of April 17th, 2172. The town just got a prediction that there might be fog. When the fog lowers, so do the wings. I do this for the gold and the fog fighting. Our small town doesn’t have a paid fog fighting team, just a small group of volunteers. Most of us also work mining the recently found gold vein that is more than 2 miles long in the side of a hill. But my true reason here is being a fog fighter. I love killing those witch-like fucks. If I were to tell people in the town how much I love doing it, then I think their view of me might be a little different.

I woke up in the apartments we voluntary slaves call home. It’s just a habit to go outside when I wake up and take some drags of my vintage Marlboro cigarettes. The red ones. I also go outside to see if there’re any wings in the sky. Luckily there were none. I go back inside and walk over to the kitchen and make myself a pot of coffee. Meanwhile, I turn on the flat. That’s what we call the television, them being so flat. On the flat, the president is talking about how he wants there to be a government registered wing defense team in every county. Frontville is too small and I think no one really wants to come here. It’s too dangerous. The voluntary team does fine. We have 50 members, all of which stay in the apartments we have been given. Fifty people sounds like it isn’t that much, but really it is. Things stay pretty calm here, that is when everyone does what they are supposed to. And it helps that Frontville is a town with maybe 2000 civilians.

Later in the day as I’m patrolling, walking around Frontville talking to the men and women of this town, I get a message saying that we are expecting heavy fog during the night. The messages we get usually don’t mean anything. It usually just means a faulty weatherman. The whole town tries to predict. If the wings are in the sky you can expect fog. Some try and just predict fog, some towns have fog and then the wings come. It all depends on where you live. I head back to the base and walk into the dining hall. Our town general of the fog fighters(He isn’t really an actual general, we just need someone to call general) is telling everyone who is to patrol what. While he is talking, we hear screams come outside, OH MY GOD!

We all stop what we are doing and give each other a look. We all get outside and sure enough, there are wings in the sky…and according to the legend. It does mean to do or die. There’re more than usual. Too bad we couldn’t just shoot them from down here. But we can’t because if the 727 round doesn’t go all the way, and comes down, with the speed it would be going too fast. If it landed on a civilian, or even hit the ground, the 727 bullet would explode and the liquid would go everywhere. It would be bad. We make sure we are safe.

The General yells from inside the apartment building, Kirk! Get your ass inside. That’s me, Kirk. Everyone looks at me as if I did something bad, as if I was the reason this was happening. The general never yells. I make my way into the apartments and see what the general wants. Kirk, you know as well as I do what is going to happen. I need you on your best fighting ability…You got me Kirk?…Your A-Game. I simply nod my head. I think to myself, am I ever off my game? Everyone is silent once they get into the apartments, knowing what tonight means. Everyone knows what is going to happen. Everyone is sitting on their bed, getting dressed and ready for war. I slip on my pants, tie my boots, put on my shirt, then I put my jacket on. I grab my magazines and guns. I have a 727 pistol and a 727 automatic rifle. Before I leave I go back to my bed stand and put on a necklace my grandpa gave me. It’s a crest. I’m not sure what it means. It’s really pretty, but that’s beside the point. I found out things that attract them like loud noise and light. I find a truck sitting next to the apartments, so I load up the usual things. I find four good sized wireless speakers and I grab 10 free standing battery operated lights. They’re LED lights, super bright. After everything is loaded, I head to my spot, a nearby swamp in the woods. It’s not that far from town. You can take a truck straight to the swamp. I put the lights around the small swamp and the speakers in a T formation. I head back to the apartments. I pull the truck over and get out. I look up into the sky. There’s more wings then I have ever seen. I head inside I hear the general talking by the living room. He