Tales That Will Leave You Hanging

By Bill Evans

Most of the tales included in this volume deal with various themes in the Horror genre, many of which involve the supernatural and the occult. The movie The Exorcist, deeply influenced the plot lines and themes of many of the stories and poems found here. (I'm still scarred from watching that movie, having seen it on Day 2 of its release. There was no way a 17-year-old naïve kid could have seen what was coming in that one). Add to the fact that since age 10, I have been watching B grade Horror films, and grew up admiring Karloff, Lugosi, Vincent Price et al. With all of this in mind, it may be easy to guess how this book came to fruition.

A demon hunter (protagonist) John Kane is featured in many of the stories, where he finds himself tackling sometimes insurmountable odds versus the demons Morax and/or Green Man. Each story is stand alone, and is generally not connected to any of the others (with one exception involving a villainous monkey god). Also included in this anthology is seven (very dark) poems.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098360177

Bill Evans

Bill Evans grew up in Sarasota, FL, where professionally designed baseball fields abound. He is a retired U.S. Navy Chaplain, and a retired Presbyterian Pastor. Writing has gone with the territory, but it’s time to write for fun. He is married to Gwen with 5 adult children and 12 grandchildren. Write what you know. A baseball book is long overdue.

Book preview

cover.jpg

Tales That Will Leave You Hanging

Copyright © 2021 Bill Evans

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.

ISBN (Print Edition): 978-1-09836-016-0

ISBN (eBook Edition): 978-1-09836-017-7

Contents

FOREWORD

LIAR

(part one)

LIAR

(part 2)

LIAR

(part 3)

LIAR

(part four)

LIAR

(part five)

LIAR

(part six)

LIAR

(part seven)

LIAR

(part eight)

LIAR

(part nine)

HELL

GOING HOME

LITTLE GIRL

POPPO

(part one)

POPPO

(part two)

HOME AT LAST

FATHER RAMONE

(part one)

FATHER RAMONE

(part two)

FATHER RAMONE

(part three)

FATHER RAMONE

(part four)

FATHER RAMONE

(part five)

FATHER RAMONE

(part six)

FATHER RAMONE

(part seven)

FATHER RAMONE

(part eight)

FATHER RAMONE

(part nine)

FRIENDS

NOT GOING HOME

BETRAYED

JIM

BABY G

THE MONKEY GOD

(part one)

THE MONKEY GOD

(part two)

THE MONKEY GOD

(part three)

POWER

THE NEGOTIATION

GREGOR

THE RETURN OF THE MONKEY GOD

(part one)

THE RETURN OF THE MONKEY GOD

(part two)

THE RETURN OF THE MONKEY GOD

(part three)

A FAIR

(part one)

A FAIR

(part two)

A FAIR

(part three)

ANDY & JIM-BOB

(part one)

ANDY & JIM-BOB

(part two)

ANDY & JIM-BOB

(part three)

MORBID CURIOSITY

CAVE OF ISMOLDA

(part one)

CAVE OF ISMOLDA

(part two)

CAVE OF ISMOLDA

(part three)

THE ORACLE OF DESIDIUM

(part one)

THE ORACLE OF DESIDIUM

(part two)

VALENA

(part one)

VALENA

(part two)

VALENA

(part three)

VALENA

(part four)

THE QUESTION

SOCIAL MEDIA

ATU

EAVESDROPPER

SARTARIUS T. BOSWORTH

(at your service)

THE STEALTH MARAUDERS

BAD WOLF

FORE

MISTAKEN

THE PROMISE

ZOZO

FOREWORD

Anton Chekhov had been accused of writing a story, and then unceremoniously ripping the head and tail from it, leaving his readers with only what truly counts.

Ernest Hemingway had made famous his iceberg theory whereby he shows only the tip of the story, leaving much lying unseen beneath the surface.

How exciting it must have been for these great authors, and others (Picasso comes to mind), to liberate themselves from the drudgery and prescription art that shackled the Victorian Age. No longer would things be ‘spelled out’ for the audience. Our minds now needed to formulate and construct the materials sent our way. Our neurons had to engage, dissect, and assemble! What joy!

As you may have guessed, I have always been a fan of the aforementioned geniuses and others, whom dotted the turn of the 20th century into the mid 1930’s. Much of my work has been patterned and otherwise influenced by the above. Tales That Will Leave You Hanging is a testament to that era even more so.

Most of the tales included in this volume deal with various themes in the Horror genre, many of which involve the supernatural and the occult. Often, my protagonist is a demon hunter named John Kane. He often finds himself matched up against the demon(s) Morax and/or Green Man. The movie The Exorcist, deeply influenced the plot lines and themes of many of the stories found here. (I’m still scarred from watching that movie, having seen it on Day 2 of its release. There was no way a 17-year-old naïve kid could have seen what was coming in that one). Add to the fact that since age 10, I have been watching B grade Horror films, and grew up admiring Karloff, Lugosi, Vincent Price et al. With all of this in mind, it may be easy to guess how this book came to fruition.

My writing style is not ‘formula’. I make no apologies for that. (I think Chekhov and Hemingway would approve). I am a short story writer. I am a horror writer. I write flash fiction compilations. My beta readers seem to appreciate the style. It lends itself to being able to put the book down at any time, and then to pick it back up later without missing a beat. My beta reading millennials in particular seemed pleased with an accessible style that accommodates a busy lifestyle.

Ok then. On with the show! Please enjoy Tales That Will Leave You Hanging, with my sincere compliments.

p.s. You may want to sleep with one eye open after opening this book. (Just a humble suggestion).

With kindest regards,

Bill Evans

LIAR

(part one)

The towering gothic monastery cast an ominous swollen shadow, swallowing up everyone and everything on the otherwise barren island. He was probably somewhere off the coast of Turkey. Surely he would never again be able to find his way to this miniscule ‘blip’ on the Aegean. That didn’t matter. He was here now.

John Kane was led up the 1,000 steps by two very large and menacing looking Byzantine monks. Both priests were easily 6 feet 4 inches in height, with very large hands and thick wrists. Each was dressed in brightly colored formal religious garb. Prominently displayed on the chest area of each of the priestly cassocks, was some kind of mysterious gold in-laid inscription. John Kane believed the words to be of an ancient language, possibly Aramaic. The long and untrimmed ‘Rasputin-like’ beards of the priests obscured the words and prevented John from deciphering any meaning from them. That was probably for the better. The three men proceeded onward without uttering a word.

Atop the steps stood a large ornately designed black iron wrought protective gate. After a series of ritualistic bows, the monks moved to either side of the visitor. As the men then shuffled forward, the creaky hinges groaned and the gate slowly opened. After a few steps, the priests abruptly stopped. John Kane was signaled to enter. He did so briskly, after which the gates were quickly pulled shut behind him. Alone now, he stoically continued forward and then downward, descending deeper and deeper into the dimly candle-lit abyss.

John Kane had been given instructions. It was imperative that he follow them precisely. As he continued downward into the catacombs, he repeated these vital orders over and over in his mind.

Do not interfere. Be seated quietly to the rear and then don’t move. Above all, do not engage with the demon.

* * * * *

The corridor with a series of dungeon cells now appeared before him. He carefully counted to himself, 1…2… until reaching 6. He then entered this cell to his left.

The subject in this 8-by10 foot sectional, was strapped into some kind of seating device located at the center of the room. The chair was most likely a medieval torture rack in which, when properly secured, its’ prisoner had little chance of escaping…or even moving.

John Kane was careful not to make eye contact, or even glance in the direction of the captive. All that he could discern from his periphery was that the subject was wearing a white smock or tunic. Height, weight, sex, age etc. could not be ascertained. John Kane dared not attempt to observe any of these details from the poor victim.

John Kane moved silently and swiftly to the rear of the room. He sat and waited.

The arrival of the exorcist was imminent.

LIAR

(part 2)

The slouching, limp, and lifeless captive straightened up rigidly…alarmed by an unknown presence…a presence yet unseen. John Kane dared not look up. He could hear the leather restraints stretching and cracking against the silent efforts to break free from the bonds. The ancient but well-constructed torture device was holding up well-for now. It would only be a matter of time however, before the brackets would give way to the supernatural strength being applied. Hopefully, there would be sufficient time. Heaven help them all if there was not.

Seemingly, out of nowhere, a large shadow was cast against the back wall behind where John Kane was seated. The bloated silhouette dressed in black with the requisite starched white collar, lessened with each stealth-like step taken. The exorcist entered the prison cell. The seated captive twisted and squirmed upon his entrance, as if charged by an electric current. Father Dominic did not react.

* * * * *

Father Dominic was a world-renowned demonologist and exorcist. At 92 years of age, the frail Sicilian-born Passionist Franciscan monk had been retired for a number of years. His heavily lined and weary face begat that of a man who had experienced much pain and horror in his life. Although still considered by some as the pre-eminent expert on exorcisms in the world; for the past decade Father Dominic had been relegated as a consultant and research professor at the Vatican. ‘Someone’ had insisted specifically that Father Dominic be actively assigned for this exorcism. That directive had not been from the Pope. John Kane thought the decision-‘odd’.

* * * * *

Father Dominic proceeded to a bench along the near wall, and gingerly placed a black satchel upon it. He carefully reached inside and removed a small worn bible along with an ornately inscribed silver plated scepter containing holy water. John Kane could hear the priest muttering a prayer in Latin.

"Et tu.. spiriti…sancti..,"the priest incanted more loudly as he turned and made the sign of the cross in the direction of the captive. Father Dominic then raised his right arm high in the air and with a robust sweeping motion, shook the scepter at the captive, dowsing him with the holy water.

The captive shrieked with an inhuman and unholy high-pitched shrillness that reverberated throughout the dungeon corridor. With fiery red eyes, the enraged captive turned his head awkwardly toward the priest with a hateful glare, and hissed with a serpent like motion of his neck and tongue. The unholy sound seemed to come to life, as it permeated and ebbed through the stale air in the dusty dungeon. The captive took a deep breath while pursing his lips in a circular manner. As a snake-like tongue slithered from his tense cheeks, a small puff of black smoke escaped from his lips. The hellish vapor sped in a beeline toward the unsuspecting priest. The ebony gas quickly infiltrated the exposed orifices of the ears and mouth of Father Dominic. The priest involuntarily dropped his scepter, and fell to his knees screaming while clutching at the side of his head. A sticky gushing red fluid burst forth from his right ear and soon coated his hand and arm up to the elbow. The eardrum had been punctured.

The captive squealed with uncontrolled hysterical laughter. The priest laid in a fetal position on the dirt floor…writhing in unimaginable pain.

John Kane sat perfectly still, being careful not to move a muscle. After a moment, the captive slumped passively back into a relaxed position. The room grew silent.

LIAR

(part 3)

The captive abruptly…yet silently sat upright. He was perched with a rigid instinctiveness. John Kane dared not move.

The prone priest shook the cobwebs from his head, and slowly pulled himself to his knees. With monumental effort, Father Dominic staggered to his feet and slowly shuffled over to the nearby bench. The blood soaked priest retrieved the black satchel, and momentarily clutched it tightly to his chest. He hurriedly opened the leather bag and fumbled through its contents. With a sigh of panicked relief, the priest quickly found the object needed for his protection. It was a simple wooden crucifix.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Father Dominic abruptly turned to the captive, holding the crucifix upright with shaking hands. The quivering exorcist strode steadfastly and bravely toward the captive, bearing the wooden cross like the sword of a valiant Crusader.

Name yourself demon, the priest screamed in a surprisingly deep and powerful voice.

The captive impossibly sat up even more rigidly. John Kane could see his skin swelling and stretching. Would the captive literally burst right before his own horrified eyes?

Name yourself demon, the priest commanded yet again.

The demon hissed.

Release Raphael from your grip, demon. Vacate his body. I command this in the name of Jesus Christ.

The captive’s neck twisted away from the words, and his head then cocked in an unnatural angle. In a high-pitched inhuman and unholy shrill voice, the demon responded. I have consumed Raphael like an over-ripe mango. I’ve peeled his skin away and sucked up his juices. We are now entwined for eternity.

Give him up demon. Depart from his body.

I won’t give him up. I love him.

Name yourself…spawn from Hell.

I’m…I’m…a liar, the demon responded. I can’t tell you. I won’t tell you. I’m a liar. I’m a liar.

State your name demon.

Ralthashan. My name is Ralthashan, the demon relented. Ralthashan the defiler, he added with sarcastic arrogance.

The demon suddenly stopped talking, as if puzzled or confused. The neck of the captive then twisted back almost 180 degrees. The head remained cocked unnaturally to the side.

John Kane looked on in horror as the captive’s vacant face gazed at him through cloudy pupil-less milky eyes. A contorted twisted smile then appeared on the otherwise emotionless face.

Ahhh…there you are John Kane. I’ve been talking to your father. Here is his message…

LIAR

(part four)

The demon hunter was growing weary of the troublesome demonic imp. He decided he had sat in silence long enough. Ralthashan was growing in strength and confidence. Fear and timidity fueled the demon. Experience and intuition indicated that it was now time to act…to reverse roles. John Kane would now be the one to be feared. John Kane would now be the intimidator.

Ralthashan-vacate the body. I will not receive your message from my father until you do so-and not before.

The twisted grimace on the face of the possessed boy sagged into a look of expressionless vacancy. The clouded eyes remained open and unblinking. The left side of the possessed face began to twitch involuntarily. With a huffing roar, human bile exited from the possessed boys’ mouth, projecting itself forward at the calmly seated demon hunter. The stench made the nearby exorcist, Father. Dominic convulse spastically. John Kane remained calm and unaffected.

The demon then spoke.

You don’t dictate terms to the mighty Ralthashan. Peon! I am Ralthashan the Defiler. Mighty overlord from the depths of…

Silence, John Kane forcefully shouted, interrupting the demon. Enough of your idle threats Ralthashan …the Defeated. Do as I command or feel the wrath of my father. He will punish you severely for your impertinence. Then afterwards, you will feel the wrath of John Kane.

A silent hush suddenly grew over in the confined cell area. There appeared to be some confusion on the part of the demon. John Kane could feel his own power increasing over the diminishing demon.

You…you don’t even know your father-insolent one. You know not of what you speak.

Ahhh-but my father knows me demon. I know I am under his protection. I have nothing to fear from neophyte imps like you Ralthashan.

"You half-breed bastard. You dare speak to me this way? You have to know that your father cannot protect you forever.