Billy Bones: Beyond the Grave

By David H. Burton

Meet Billy Bones.

He's dead.

Literally.

Finding himself in the Afterlife, ten year old Billy must wait to be recycled back into the Livingworld. Meanwhile, he's stuck trying to figure out how he's supposed to survive in this backwards existence where sunlight burns, the dead are living, and the memories of his past lives are stored in a secret book.

The problem is that Billy's has been stolen, and now he has to find it and discover why the dreaded Reaper is after him.

Choose for Billy and help him find his way through the Afterlife in this new "Choose-Your-Own-Demise" novel.

***Includes both a "Choose Your Own Demise" version as well as a "Chapter" version (for those that prefer a more traditional reading experience).***

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stonehenge Press
• Release date: Feb 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9780987958303

David H. Burton

Indie author, adoptive father of 3 boys, manager of chaos, science and technology geek, person of the queer persuasion, and purveyor of sacrilege.

Book preview

Choose Your Own Demise Version

Billy Bones

The Choose Your Own Demise version is not meant to be read in order.

As the story progresses, you will be given a choice as to what you want Billy to do next.

Some choices will move the story along, others will lead to Billy's demise.

So, choose wisely, because any one of those choices may be Billy's last.

If you prefer a more traditional reading experience, please go to the Chapter Version.

The Beginning of the End

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Hi.

I’m Billy Bones.

And I’m dead.

Not figuratively, like Biff Knucklehead is going to beat me up at school, but literally dead — dead as a doornail.

I was ten years old when I died. From what I can remember, I shoved my finger too far up my nose and stabbed my brain. Dumb way to die, I know, but hey, I was a notorious nose picker.

Actually, I still am.

I don’t remember all of my life, just bits and pieces. My parents had been decent people from what I recall, and my sister, although odd, wasn’t that much of a pain.

I think it had been a good life.

So that leaves me where I’m at now.

I’m in the Afterlife. Not the kind where there’re angels and puffy clouds, and not that other place with fire and brimstone. Those don’t exist. There’s just the Afterlife.

From what I can tell it’s like a recycling depot here. We sit in this place waiting for our number to be called. Then we start all over again in the Livingworld as someone new. My number is 1,312,356,421.

I think I have a long wait ahead of me.

I look the same as I did when I was living. I still have black hair, and I’m kind of pale. Like my aunt used to say, my eyes are like the sky. And with the exception that one nostril can sometimes look a little larger than the other, my nose is just right for my face.

Everyone here looks like they did when they died.

I guess I’m lucky I didn’t die by losing half my head in a chainsaw accident. Not pretty, let me tell you. That was the guy right in front of me when I first came to this place.

I stood in a line, waiting to be registered. It was dark, and everything was made of old, black stone. It was almost like standing in a large train station. There was a glass window with someone behind it at the counter, sort of like a clerk. The monocled woman was old and trying to get the attention of the three people at the front of the line. They all carried fishing rods, and were bickering.

Yes, yes, yes, she said. "You’re dead, you should have worn your lifejackets. Dumb, dumb, dumb, but you can’t change it. Now, take these papers and get in the Multiple Deaths line." She pointed toward another window.

The chainsaw guy was next. He had to go to the Accidental Dismemberment line.

Next! the woman behind the counter yelled.

I did what any kid my age, who’s a little short of stature, would do. I jumped up when I got to the counter. I got a closer look at the woman. She had no markings on her. It didn’t look like she’d died horribly, she was just really old. She had a name tag that read Stella, and the one exceptional thing about her was that she had extraordinarily tall hair.

Quit yer bouncin’ around, Stella said.

I could hear her flipping through some pages.

Jumpin’ Jehosephat! she exclaimed. Another nose picker! That’s ten this week! She leaned over the counter and pointed toward another window. You go there, she said.

The sign above it read Unbelievably Stupid Deaths.

I hung my head and scuffed my feet as I made my way to the next window. There was no one in that line.

When I got to the counter, it was Stella again. I thought it rather peculiar that someone of her age could have run to this counter so fast. Then I wondered if maybe there was more than one of her.

Another nose picker! she said in the same tone as before. That’s—

Ten this week, I said, finishing her sentence.

Those thin lips of her pursed together. Cheeky little thing, aren’t ya?

With her withered hand she pointed to a chute next to the window. Out popped a heavy book. Then she told me to go to a place called Barclay Mansion on Liberty Street as she motioned to an old, barely-working Exit sign. After that, she disappeared from sight.

I followed her directions and stepped outside.

The streets were filled with folks wandering about aimlessly, but some went about their business in a rather fast manner.

A strange fellow on the road, who looked a little flat and had tire marks on his face, yelled, Welcome to Necropolis!

I tried to ask him for directions, but he started moaning about the loss of his former life and then limped off into the streets.

I felt a little overwhelmed as I tried to cut through the crowds of people that walked or limped about. Some strolled around with parasols even though it wasn’t raining. It seemed to be the middle of the night.

I was careful to remain on the cobbled sidewalks as carriages skidded past me, crammed with people that looked like they’d come from the Accidental Dismemberment line. Occasionally, an old taxi would whiz by filled with fancily-dressed men and women.

A large number of dogs roamed the streets, sniffing pant legs or dresses. And for every dog, there were easily three cats.

It was at that moment that something strange occurred to me. I thought I’d had a dog once back in the Livingworld, and then one of the larger ones approached me. He took a sniff of my leg and wagged his tail. I wasn’t sure what to do about him. He was rusty brown, with a ridge running down his back. He was easily half my height.

I had to decide:

Select Get rid of the dog, or

Select Take him with me.

You Have Lost Your Way

If you’re on this page, it’s because you’re attempting to read this story in order. That could end in disaster or utter confusion.

I suggest you go back, or

Select Start over.

I snatched the torch from Miesha’s hand and bolted for the short cut — no time for messing around with a maze.

From the entrance blew a draft that was rank and chill. I didn’t pause. I just strode right in despite Liz’s protests behind me.

Come on! I called.

After I took about ten steps in, the wind in the tunnel blew out the torch. Before I could do anything, cold hands seized me and pulled me further into the dark. The hands covered my mouth, muffling my angry shouts to let go. Then something bit my neck and started draining the life from body. I felt my soul being inhaled.

I thought to myself, as my eyes started to close, that this was a sucky way to end this story.

An Untimely End

Would you like to:

Start Over Start over, or

Select Rethink the decision that led you to your demise.

You Have Lost Your Way

If you’re on this page, it’s because you’re attempting to read this story in order. That could end in disaster or utter confusion.

I suggest you go back, or

Select Start over.

I fell back from the others, letting them advance ahead of me. Liz took a look back, and I quickly dropped to one knee to tie my shoe. She turned and kept walking.

Then, when I felt it was safe, I tiptoed off to the side, heading for where I thought my namesake was buried.

Sadly, I didn’t get anywhere near.

I tripped and fell into an open hole — one that had no end.

I kept falling and falling.

And I had a lot of time to think about how my luck had taken a downward turn.

An Untimely End

Would you like to:

Select Start over, or

Select Rethink the decision that led you to your demise.

You Have Lost Your Way

If you’re on this page, it’s because you’re attempting to read this story in order. That could end in disaster or utter confusion.

I suggest you go back, or

Select Start over.

Running after Romulus seemed to be a good call before, so I went with it again.

I wriggled free from the ropes. The look on his face was priceless as I ran and dove toward him.

But then that look of horror changed to a smile as he side-stepped my attempt to tackle him.

I went skidding along the ground and directly into the path of the Golem.

And as its heavy foot flattened me like a pancake, I knew my odds of surviving were pretty slim.

An Untimely End

Would you like to:

Select Start over, or

Select Rethink the decision that led you to your demise.

You Have Lost Your Way

If you’re on this page, it’s because you’re attempting to read this story in order. That could end in disaster or utter confusion.

I suggest you go back, or

Select Start over.

I had a difficult time focusing on Dead Lessons with a hand sitting in my pocket. It wasn’t like it was moving around or anything — it actually sat quite still. But the fact that it was there, balled up in a fist, was unnerving, to say the least.

A fairly large group of us sat in an old classroom with slate boards along the walls. There, I met a brother and sister pair — Cam arrived here after staying up all night reading. His eyes had crossed on him, and he died of exhaustion. Sonya followed him a few hours later from sucking her thumb clean off and choking on it. She carried it in her pocket.

Apparently, Stella hadn’t sent them to the Unbelievably Stupid Deaths line.

A wisp of a woman stood up at the front of the room — Mrs. Shivers was her name. She was older than Stella and moved like a slug. I sat at the back, by myself. And when no one was looking I kept trying to fish the hand out of my pocket. With the hand balled up in a fist, it didn’t have enough room to come out. I kept bending and twisting, this way and that, in an effort to get the blasted thing out of there. In fact, I was so focused on it, I failed to notice Mrs. Shivers staring at me. I think she’d just asked me a question, but darned if I knew what it was. There was a hand in my pocket!

The rest of the class all turned around in their seats, staring at me. I straightened up in the chair and shrugged.

Sorry, I said. I have an itch.

Glad it’s not in your nose! Liz said.

The rest of them laughed.

That was fine. I didn’t mind if they had a chuckle at my expense. I had more important things to concern myself with.

Mrs. Shivers moved on from there.

I tried to pay attention. I really did, but it just wasn’t working. It’s not like she was teaching us how to do something interesting. It was all about what not to do. Don’t scare the living. Don’t stay in cemeteries. Don’t haunt old mansions. Don’t, don’t, don’t ...

She kept yammering for hours, and my mind drifted off. I couldn’t help but wonder about the strange man with the decayed face. What was so important about his hand? Unless he had something in it, which just made me want to get it out all the more.

I sighed, looking up. The rest of the group was either staring at me, or leaving the room. Mrs. Shivers was now asleep at her desk.

Liz shook her head. What’s wrong with you? Did you not get any sleep? she asked.

I shrugged. I opened the curtains once.

The others groaned.

What’d you do that for? Miesha said. You must not be very smart.

I dunno, I responded. I wanted to see what it looked like outside.

Liz didn’t look impressed, and Kenji held his head like he knew exactly what I was talking about.

We left the building, and I was relieved to learn that Dead Lessons were over. It was only one day of blah blah blah.

What a relief that was.

Liz went on to explain that we all had jobs in the Afterlife. It all depended on what we used to do before.

Before? I asked.

She gave me that look that said were-you-not-listening-to-anything-Mrs.-Shivers-said?

I shrugged.

It’s in the Lexicon, she said. You know, the book you didn’t read.

I had to shrug again. So, what’s in it?

Our past lives, Kenji said. The book is unique for each person, detailing our history, both in the Afterlife and the Livingworld.

That was a bit of a surprise. I would very much like to know who I was in my past lives.

Liz led us into what appeared to be a central point in the city. The buildings here were even closer together and much older. What few streetlamps functioned were flickering, making it rather dim. And she kept taking us through dark alleys with very little room to maneuver.

I suggest, she said, that you read your books as soon as you get back. Just like in the Livingworld, we each have a purpose here.

Aren’t we a little young to be working? I asked. I wasn’t sure I was fit for anything that involved heavy lifting.

You’ll understand when you read the book, she said. Just because you died as a child in the Livingworld, it doesn’t mean you’re one in the Afterlife.

We spilled out into an old market square where we found all kinds of wares for sale, but mostly things you’d find at Hallowe’en. The merchants were kind of a shady lot — crooked and bent, warty noses, and more hair than would be considered normal. Some appeared more dead than they probably should have been. They were selling cauldrons, bones, jars of substances that didn’t look proper, and black cats — some of which weren’t alive.

Wait here, she said, and walked over to chat with one of the merchants — an old crone selling some herbs and potions.

Kenji and Miesha waited on the spot while Goliath chased off a couple of feral cats that slunk in our direction. I took a moment to examine the place a little. I didn’t even get past two old men selling creepy looking clowns, when a woman called me over. She had long hair that covered half her face.

You, she said, motioning me over with a heavily ringed finger. Over here.

I looked back to the others. Liz bartered with the old crone while the other two waited patiently for her.

I walked over.

That hand in your pocket, the woman said. I can help you.

My eyes opened pretty wide when she said it.

How did you know? I asked. I probably should have played dumb, but the words had already fallen out of my mouth.

She didn’t answer my question. Instead she pointed to her own fist and tickled the lower part of her palm. Then she opened her fist and cupped her hand.

I reached into my pocket to try it, but she grabbed me. Her touch was cold.

Not here, she said. Too many eyes. Remember, it’s to be kept a secret.

What is it? I asked. All this secret stuff was a little cryptic and getting kind of annoying. I wanted to know what the heck was in my pocket.

She leaned over to whisper with breath that was as icy as her touch, but Goliath came around the corner. Upon seeing him, the woman twirled on her heel.

I hate dogs, she muttered, and slipped into the market.

Goliath sauntered over and sniffed my pants.

Thanks, dog, I muttered. I was about to find out something useful, and you scared her off.

He looked to where she had disappeared and then nudged me back to where Miesha and Kenji still waited like statues.

I joined them, but said nothing.

We waited for some time for Liz. She would leave the shop, pace, and then re-enter. At times she’d come out, put her hands on her hips and look about the market. It was as if she was waiting for something. Then she’d pace and re-enter the shop once more. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, she approached.

What’d you get? I asked.

From this obscenely floral carpet bag, she pulled out a couple of vials and some herbs. They stunk.

Protection, she said. She looked about once more and shook her frizzy head.

Protection from what? Miesha asked. We’re already dead.

Read your book, Liz said, and then started to make her way back through the market.

We followed pretty close on her heels when there was wailing and screaming behind us.

Phantoms, Liz said. We should hurry. Lexis is on the loose. We don’t want to run into her, or her phantoms.

Her already speedy pace quickened, and we jogged to keep up. Goliath trotted beside me.

Wait, who’s Lexis? I asked.

Someone you don’t want to meet, was all she said, and then plodded ahead.

When we finally got back to Barclay Mansion, we all dropped onto the couches that waited in the front room.

Jeeves was there, his hands fidgeting. He mumbled to himself.

He looked at Liz apologetically. We seem to have had some problems while you were away, ma’am, he said.

Liz put her hands on her hips. What problems, Jeeves?

He stuttered, trying to get the words out. T-T-There was a break-in. Some things were stolen.

Liz’s lips pressed together pretty tight. What was stolen, Jeeves?

The Lexicon, he said.

Whose? she asked.

He pointed at Miesha, then Kenji, and finally me.

Theirs.

Select I don’t seem to have much choice but to go on …

You Have Lost Your Way

If you’re on this page, it’s because you’re attempting to read this story in order. That could end in disaster or utter confusion.

I suggest you go back, or

Select Start over.

Throwing