Midnight Oil - An Anthology

By Joe King, Taylor Ford, Sarah Stein and 7 more

The worlds of multiple authors stalk in the shadows of the late-night hours of the Midnight Oil Anthology, a collection of stories highlighting tales of deception. Mingled with romance, horror, dark humor, and fantasy, this suspenseful collection of stories will have readers on the edge of their seats, biting their nails in worry, and unable to put it down until they know what happens next. The collection features works from both established and emerging authors, who were hand-selected for this project.

The assembly of authors includes Joe King, author of the five-star rated meta-fiction hit Raw Egg, Taylor Floyd, highly-acclaimed fantasy author of A Nightingale's Tale, romance-writing guru Sarah Stein, D.A. Roach, who is most known for various genres of YA novels but also writes series novels of horror and dark fiction, Joe Pranaitis, an acclaimed Sci-fi/Fantasy writer, Freya LeCrow, who has been an author for many years and has created many mystery and paranormal stories, Viv Drewa, a.k.a. The Owl Lady, who writes fictional murder, mystery, romance, and adventure books, Karen Vaughan—a humorous storyteller of murder and mystery, Southern Owl Publications publisher and author, Crystal L. Gauthier, and Skyler Rankin, the newest on the literary scene as an author of YA, paranormal, and mystery stories.

All of these authors are of high caliber, and the Midnight Oil anthology is a collection of writing that has something for everybody. From thrills to chills and side-splitting shrills, this collection is sure to please readers of all tastes. For those who dare to turn its pages, just be sure to keep that midnight oil burning.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Southern Owl Publications, LLC
• Release date: Aug 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386673422

Book preview

Midnight Oil - An Anthology

Joe King et al.

Published by Southern Owl Publications, LLC, 2018.

While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

MIDNIGHT OIL - AN ANTHOLOGY

First edition. August 8, 2018.

Copyright © 2018 Joe King et al..

Written by Joe King et al..

MIDNIGHT OIL

a Multi Author Anthology

Joe King, Taylor Floyd, Crystal L. Gauthier, Sarah Stein, D.A. Roach, Joe Pranaitis,

Freya LeCrow, Viv Drewa, Karen Vaughan, Skyler Rankin

MIDNIGHT OIL

Copyright © Southern Owl Publications, LLC - 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

Southern Owl Publications, LLC

13607 Suite 100 Terrace Creek Drive, Louisville, KY 40245

www.southernowlpublications.net

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address above.

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition, August 2018

Cover Design by Genevieve Scholl

Edited by Genevieve Scholl

Formatted by Genevieve Scholl

TABLE OF CONTENTS

A COMMON PLACE

MY MONSTER

THE HAUNTING OF

CLAIRE PRITCHETT

AN HONEST LIE

BENT BOTTOM’S

COUNTERPOINT

FATED HOPE

HIS SERENITY

CHRISTMAS TEARS

(because not everyone has a happy holiday)

HER SECRET WISH

BAKED

A COMMON PLACE

Copyright © Joe King, 2018

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

Southern Owl Publications, LLC

13607 Suite 100 Terrace Creek Drive, Louisville, KY 40245

www.southernowlpublications.net

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address above.

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition, August 2018

Edited by Genevieve Scholl

Formatted by Genevieve Scholl

A COMMON PLACE

Joe King

A

man wearing a black pinstriped suit walked through the automatic door of the hotel lobby. He wore a thin black mustache and his jet-black hair was slicked back with a glossy grease. The floor of the lobby was carpeted in tan and worn with footprints. The lobby had a water fountain, two armchairs, and a coffee table with various sports magazines sprawled over it. There was a banner over the front desk welcoming travelers to a convention. The clerk behind the counter had patchy sideburns that covered the length of his red splotched face. He was reading a book with a drawing of a spaceship on the cover. The man wearing the suit rang the service bell.

Can I help you? the clerk asked, not looking up from his book.

I need a room.

No can do. It's past check-in time, and the only room we have left is reserved.

But if it's past check-in time, then that room is just going to sit empty all night. Those people clearly aren't showing up, so why don't you just give it to me? You can make a little bit of money, and I get what I want. I'd consider it a personal favor. That goes pretty far in my line of business.

And what might that business be?

Let's just say I come from a long line of made men.

Even so, it's against our policy to check-in guests to reserved rooms without a cancelation. Besides, the person who reserved that room is on her way.

This is a load of bull. Don't you know who I am? I'm Vito Snuff, firstborn son of Don Snuff and heir to the family business.

Never heard of you. And even if I had, Mr. Snuff, we don't check in anybody after ten.

Even if you have rooms available?

It's our policy.

When does your policy allow people to check in?

Six in the morning.

I'll wait, Snuff said, cracking his knuckles on his palms.

Snuff sat in one of the armchairs and thumbed through a sports magazine. He took off his shoes while he read and rested his feet on top of the coffee table. Gripping his briefcase with his right hand as he read, Snuff's golden cufflinks flashed with each flick of his wrist. The clerk went back to reading the spaceship book, breathing heavily through his nose.

In a sudden burst, Snuff slapped the magazine on the coffee table and stood up clutching his briefcase from the bottom. He walked to the water fountain and took a long drink. With the water still in his mouth, Snuff swished it back and forth between his cheeks with an alternating sloshing. Snuff then tilted his head back, attempted to gargle the first few bars of Sicilian Heart and swallowed the remaining drops of water did not dribble down the front of his shirt. He looked to the clerk, who remained immersed in the spaceship book.

Man, that's good water, Snuff said, smacking the roof of his mouth with his tongue after every word. Have you ever tried this water?

Mr. Snuff, you can't hang around here all night.

Give me a room, and I'll be out of your way.

I can't, the clerk said, flipping a page in the book. It's against our policy. Mr. Snuff, there are other hotels in Riverside.

There's a big soap convention in town. Nobody has any vacancies.

You can't stay here. It's against—

Our policy.

Snuff sank back into the lobby armchair and reclined back. He put a sports magazine over his face and closed his eyes. Snuff had his arms wrapped around the briefcase as he rested. Deep breaths gradually grew into snores as Snuff's protruding stomach bobbed up and down with the seesaw rhythm of his wheezing. In a whispered breath, Snuff murmured something about Italian wine and rolled to his side with a satisfied grin creeping across his face. The clerk clapped his hands in front of the Snuff's face in two quick pops. The sports magazine slid off Snuff's face and he looked up, cocking one eye open with a twitch.

Mr. Snuff, you need to find a place to stay, the clerk said, stamping his foot on the floor.

You mean like a hotel?

You know what I mean. Don't make me call the police.

What do you want? Money? I have plenty of money. I could make you an offer you can't refuse.

It won't get you a room.

How about I wring your neck?

How about I call the police?

A dead man can't use a telephone.

Snuff stood up and grabbed the clerk by the scruff of his yellow polo shirt. The clerk retaliated by slapping Snuff across both sides of his face sequentially. Snuff turned his head and sneered, lifting the briefcase to strike.

What's going on here? said a woman who had been standing by the automatic door.

The woman was tall and slender with a milky complexion. She was dressed in a white spaghetti-strap top with a black miniskirt and high-heels. She wore a large diamond ring on her left hand. The jewel glistened a prism of colors in the dim lighting of the hotel lobby. 

Miss Skylark, I didn't see you there, the clerk said, backing away from Snuff.

Sir, I am so sorry, Ms. Skylark said, stroking her hands along Snuff's back. We don't normally allow our customers to be slapped by the help.

Miss Skylark, right? Snuff asked, letting go of the clerk's shirt.

Snuff twisted the handle of the briefcase. Looking down, he inspected it in a quick glance. Skylark's eyes followed his view with a darting surveillance.

Honey, you can call me Sadie, the woman said to him, keeping her focus on the briefcase.

I'm Vito Snuff, firstborn son of Don Snuff and heir to the family business.

Skylark brushed Snuff's right hand and her fingers grazed the luggage as she passed over. Snuff jerked away, feeling the edge of the large diamond ring scrap his finger. A circle of blood dotted his fingertip. He put brought the digit to his mouth, sucked on it, and drew it out with a smack.

I want you to know I am one hundred percent at your service, Skylark told Snuff with a submissive smile as she batted her mascara-plastered eyelashes. If there is anything you want at all—

Sadie, all I want is a room. I know it's past ten, but the other hotels in this town are full. This yokel has been giving me a hard time, so what do you say? I don't mind paying a little extra if I have to.

Sweetheart, of course. Clarence, I can't believe you would behave so brutally to such a nice young man as Mr. Vito Snuff. A fine young man, indeed. Clarence, be so good as to show Mr. Snuff to our best available room, free of charge.

But Miss Skylark, the only room left is the one you told me to reserve for—

Do as you're told, Skylark said, dismissing Clarence's statement with two flips of her wrist.

Yes, Miss Skylark.

And don't forget to carry his luggage for him.

No, I'll carry that myself, Snuff said, clenching the handle of the briefcase with an intensity that turned his knuckles white.

Snuff and Clarence climbed the narrow-carpeted staircase with the clerk hanging his head low as he rifled through a ring of keys. Miss Skylark wrung her hands together and watched the briefcase as it went up the stairs with them.

Snuff was led to a room in the corner of the third floor. There was a tag on the doorknob marking the room as reserved. Snuff yanked the tag from the knob and tossed it on the floor of the hallway. Giving to two swift snaps of his fingers, Snuff pointed to the discarded tag and glared at Clarence. With a sigh, the clerk bent down and retrieved the tag. Holding the tag under his armpit, Clarence had to jiggle the key several times before the door unlocked. Snuff snatched the key from the clerk's hand and shoved it in his pants pocket.

The walls of the room were pink, the ceiling mirrored, and the carpet white. In the center of the room, there was a bed in the shape of a heart. Sprawled on the walls were images of half-clothed cherubs shooting arrows from the clouds.

What kind of room is this supposed to be? Snuff asked, scratching his chin.

It's the honeymoon special. It's all we have left.

I guess it'll do.

Clarence stood still and gawked at Snuff, holding out a trembling hand with the palm face-up.

What do you want? A tip? Scram.

After slamming the door shut, Snuff locked the door from inside the room. Then he went through the small bathroom and checked behind the shower curtains. He went back into the main portion of the room and examined the area underneath the bed. Lifting the edge of the heart-shaped mattress, he buried his briefcase beneath it.

Chuckling, Snuff unburdened himself of his jacket and stretched out on the bed. A lingering yawn escaped from his mouth. Snuff removed his right shoe by wedging his big toe from his left foot underneath the heel. But before he was able to kick off his second shoe, there was a knock on the door. He put his shoe back on and crept to the door, peering through the peephole. Snuff backed away and wiped the glass lens with his shirt sleeve before looking again.

Who is it?

It's Miss Skylark. Sadie. I just want to make sure that everything is all right.

It's fine.

Great. I brought a drink for you.

Don't want it.

You don't want to have a glass of Italian wine with me? I'm hurt. I thought we could be friends. It isn't that often I get to be around such a strong, handsome man as yourself.

Snuff unlocked the door, thrusting it open with a wild swing. Sadie stood posed with one hand grasping two wine glasses on her hip in a loosely-fit white bathrobe that revealed enough portions of bare skin to suggest she wore nothing else underneath. In her other hand, she held a bottle of wine made of dark green glass. Printed on the label was a picture of a Roman soldier in a Toga. Sadie's auburn hair was in a bun and one hearty strand dangled in front of her golden-brown eyes. Hefty amounts of rose blush streaked her cheeks. She lifted two wine glasses in her left hand and a bottle of merlot with her right. The glasses clinked against her large diamond ring.

I hope you like fine wine. She said as she handed Snuff a glass. You don't mind if we sit on the bed, do you?

Not at all, Snuff answered, looking at Sadie's legs. Her legs were firm and sleek with a sheen that made Snuff repeatedly lick his mustache.

Sadie twisted off the top of the thin metal cap and poured out the wine. The Merlot made a glugging sound as it splashed into the glass. Snuff took a sip and nodded to her, using his free hand to cover a cringe that had formed on the corner of his upper lip.

Do you like the wine? Sadie asked. I mentioned it's Italian, right?

It reminds me of the vino momma used for cooking, Snuff said, glancing down the front of Sadie's bathrobe."

So, Mr. Snuff or should I call you Vito? My, how that name suits your broad shoulders so well. Oh, I'm getting ahead of myself. Excuse me, I don't often get so flushed, but your presence has a certain charm that makes me feel like giggling. Tell me, how does a handsome man such as yourself end up in a town like this on a night like tonight?

Business trip.

That would explain that briefcase you've been toting around. I have to say, the way you carry it shows such brute strength that I find myself wondering all sorts of things about you. I wonder what those arms must look like out of that shirt. You know, I bet there's something special in that briefcase with somebody so important and strong overseeing its safety.

Sadie gave Snuff's leg a light squeeze and giggled. She caught Snuff's glance with her eyes and pouted her lips in his direction.

Nothing but the finest, Snuff said as a bit of wine dripped down his chin.

You care to tell your friend Sadie about it? Sadie asked, wiping the wine from Snuff's chin and slurped the liquid off her finger. I find solving mysteries sexy.

Let's keep it a mystery.

If you keep this up, I won't be able to control myself, Sadie said, panting and placing her hand over her chest. You'll be able to call me yours in no time. Oh, no. Did I say that out loud? I really shouldn't be this forward. You might not think it's attractive. I bet a striking man like you is under a lot of pressure. Maybe you'd feel better if we could find some way to release all of that tension.

Sadie let the front of her bathrobe slip down a bit in a way that prominently displayed her cleavage. Snuff took a gulp of wine. He cleared his throat with a harsh grunt. Sadie emptied her glass and dropped it on the floor. The glass quavered back and forth before coming to a rest and trickling a runnel of deep red on the carpet.

Wouldn't it feel nice to get all of that tension out? I bet you are ready to just burst.

Sadie pulled the bottom of her bathrobe up so that her mid-thighs were exposed. She massaged Snuff's shoulders, moaning to herself. Snuff let out a grunt and crinkled his face. He exhaled deeply.

Doesn't that feel good?

It's great, but that ring is cutting my skin.

Sadie pulled the large diamond ring off her finger and placed it in the pocket of the bathrobe.

Why don't we get that shirt off you, so I can give you a proper massage? You can put it inside your briefcase. What was that you said was in the briefcase again?

I didn't say.

Button by button, Sadie moved down Snuff's shirt with her long fingers tracing the middle of his chest. With the dress shirt removed, she twirled it over her head in a circle and tossed it on to the floor. Grasping it from the bottom, Sadie pulled Snuff's white undershirt over his head to reveal an olive-skinned chest covered in frizzy black hair. Snuff's belly jiggled as Sadie ran her hands along his torso. 

Such a powerful man, she said, nibbling on her lip. I bet you make a lot of money in your line of work. What was it that you do again?"

It's a family business.

So, is it a dirty business?

You could say that.

You know what I've always found works best with dirty business? Making sure your customer is excited about the exchange.

Sadie kissed Snuff's neck and rubbed her hands on his inner thighs. He adjusted the midsection of his pants as he licked his mustache. He turned toward Sadie and grabbed her by the waist. Snuff kissed Sadie repeatedly, exploring the curvatures of her lower body with his hands on the outside of her bathrobe at a frantic rate.

Let's take this to the next level, she whispered into his ear.

You got it, he said, exploring the shape of Sadie's thighs with his hands.

I want to find out what you have hidden away, Sadie said, as she untied her bathrobe and exposed her milky white body.

Sadie flung the bathrobe off the bed, and it landed in a heap on the floor. Snuff unzipped his pants and lunged for Sadie's body.

Wait, wait, Sadie said, blocking his advance with her hands. Do you have a condom?

I don't.

Are you sure? Maybe there is one in your briefcase. Check.

I know there's not.

Sadie moved away from Snuff's body and sat up, covering her lap with her hands.

We can't do our dirty business without a condom.

I don't have one.

Check your briefcase. Just to be sure.

Sadie grabbed Snuff by the face and kissed him violently. Framing his face, she pushed his cheeks in with a delicate smack. Snuff leaned forward with a trail of drool leaking down the corner of his mouth.

Go downstairs and ask Clarence to get a condom for you. We keep them underneath the front desk for just such occasions.

Don't go anywhere, Snuff said, zipping up his pants.

Sadie rolled over on her stomach and kicked one foot in the air.

Tell him to give you a handful of them.

Snuff exited the room in a sprint, pouncing down the stairs two at a time. His belly jiggled with each jounce. When he reached the lobby, he was wheezing with an intensity that made his shoulders droop. Over the sound of his breathing, Snuff heard a thundering yell from the hotel lobby. Peeking around the corner as he caught his breath, Snuff observed the source of the commotion while leaning his hand on the stairwell railing.

In the lobby, there was a man wearing an army uniform talking to Clarence. The soldier's face was flushed red, and he narrowed his eyes as he spoke in a demeaning howl. Clarence wrung his hands together as he listened.

Even if I do know who you are, it's against hotel policy to tell you what room any guest is in, Clarence told the soldier.

What do you mean she's in the room with another guy? the soldier asked Clarence. I ought to go up there and give her a piece of my mind. Maybe I'll give that guy a piece of my fist, too. Now tell me where she is, or I'll knock down every door in the damned place.

Now, I never said that, Mr. Gunner, Clarence staggered in a reply. All I said was the room is no longer reserved for you and the aforementioned guest.

Oh, so now it's Mr. Gunner for me again, the soldier said. Come on, Clarence. This is me, Mitch. Tell me the room number.

It's against our policy.

The soldier banged his fists on the desk and grabbed the book with the spaceship on the cover.

I can find a new place for this book, Gunner said, shaking it fiercely. Maybe I should dock it somewhere personal to you, like where the sun doesn't shine.

Sir, even with threats, it's against our—

Policy, Snuff said, pushing his way to the reception desk and nodding at the soldier. I'll be out of your way in just a minute.

Mr. Snuff, you can't be down here with your shirt off. It's against our—

Policy, Snuff replied. I'm sure it is. Listen, give me some condoms, and I'll be out of here.

Excuse me, the soldier broke in. We were in the middle of a conversation.

Stand down, General. This will just take a minute.

It's all right, Mitch, Clarence said. I know how to deal with him.

So, now it's Mitch again, the soldier said, putting his hands on his hips.

"The