Johnny Junk: Tulpa Chapbook Series

By Brian Knight

Everyone had given up on the lost children, but one phone call rekindles a father’s hope for his missing girl.

What happens when four fathers venture onto the reclusive Johnny Junk Curtis's property in search of their missing children is far worse than their imaginations could have conceived.

They uncover secrets better left alone, and meet the truth behind the legend of Johnny Junk.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tulpa Books
• Release date: Jun 6, 2020

Book preview

Johnny Junk

Tulpa Chapbook Series

Brian Knight

Contents

Brian Knight’s Knightmares

The Call

Johnny Junk

The Empty Child

About Brian Knight

This edition published by Tulpa Books. Copyright © 2018 by Brian Knight. Previously published as King of Souls in 2006 by Earthling Publications, and in 2012 by Crossroad Press. All rights reserved.

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reprinted, reproduced, transmitted, distributed, or used commercially for any reason without the permission of the author.

www.tulpabooks.com

Also by Brian Knight

Horror - Novels

Feral

Broken Angel

Hacks

Reservoir Gods (coming soon)

Horror - Omnibus

They Call Us Monsters (coming soon)

Reservoir Gods/They Call Us Monsters - Monster Double Feature (coming soon)

Horror - Chapbooks

Children of Filth

Heart of the Monster

Apocalypse Green

Johnny Junk

Death is Blind

Midnight Blues

The Beast Inside - The Berserkers, Part 1

Blood Rage - The Berserkers, Part 2

Horror - Collections

Dragonfly

Dangerous Toys (coming soon)

The Phoenix Girls - Fantasy

The Conjuring Glass (Book 1)

The Crimson Brand (Book 2)

The Heart of the Phoenix (Book 3)

The Misadventures of Butch Quick - Crime

A Face Full of Ugly - A Chapbook

Big Trouble in Little Boots - A Chapbook

Sex, Death, and Honey (Book 1)

Cut to the Quick (Book 2, coming soon)

Praise for Brian Knight

Brian Knight's writing shines with a dark brilliance. Douglas Clegg, author of The Children’s Hour

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Knight is a writer to watch. Ellen Datlow, Years Best Fantasy & Horror

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Say hello to horror’s next big thing. Brian Keene, author of The Rising

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One of today’s most exciting writers. Ed Gorman, author of The Dark Fantastic

Brian Knight’s Knightmares

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The Call

The phone rang at three A.M. and woke Jim from a restless tequila sleep. He sat up on his couch, trying to remember where he was and what he had done the night before. This was more or less routine for him. It was an odd morning when he didn’t wake in this state, his head pounding, confused, and still half-drunk. Often on a strange couch, or a strange bed with a stranger woman.

Twice he had woken in a jail cell, his face pummeled and his hands swollen from fist-fights he couldn’t remember. Once, he had come to behind the wheel of his car, the engine still running, tires spinning uselessly in the dirt, and found himself stuck in a ditch.

This time he was lucky. He was in his own house where he’d passed out after a night alone with Jose Cuervo and The Spice Channel. No fights that night, no clingy new bar skank to avoid for the next few weeks.

The phone rang again. Jim groaned, stroking his forehead.

Who in the hell, he said, leaning across the couch toward the littered end table. He checked the caller ID, but where the name should be it said unavailable. The number beneath it looked familiar.

Hello? he answered, not yet sure if he should be annoyed. He let himself slide back to the cushions, and after a few moments of silence, he shouted, What?

Daddy?

The voice at the other end of the tinny connection startled Jim from his stupor. The lingering buzz was gone, his headache forgotten. He tried to speak, to say her name, but his jaw simply jerked open and closed again without a sound.

Daddy, is that you?

Beth, he said, barely a whisper. His mouth was cotton dry, his throat constricted. Baby?

I don’t like it here, Daddy. The voice broke, sobbed. He won’t let me go.

Who…? Jim stood, and swayed briefly, grabbing the arm of the couch to steady himself. Where are you, Beth?

The water… Her voice sounded strained, as if speaking was a great effort. I saw a phone and got away to call you, but they’re coming!

"Where are you?"

I was lost, but now I’m in the water…

Beth’s voice cut out with a discordant sound, like the snapping of over-strung guitar strings, and another voice, the shrill, shrieking voice of a crone, picked up