Manuscripts of the Macabre

By Maurice M. McKiernan

Manuscripts of the Macabre is an eclectic anthology of short stories that span a wide range of subjects: two brothers witness a paranormal storm straight from the bellows of hell; a prison guards life spirals out of control and culminates in a savage climax; a drug dealer is faced with the task of disposing of a clients body; a mob hit man has been hiding in the witness protection program until his neighbor recognizes him, initiates a confrontation, and delivers an ultimatum; two friends stumble upon an abandoned house where terrible things happened and still occasionally do; and a forsaken man faces the possibility that the love of his life may be too good to be true.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514468227

Maurice M. McKiernan

Maurice M. McKiernan is a right-brained individual with a propensity for all things artistic. He began piano lessons at age four and soon began performing in recitals and competitions, eventually recording eight music albums. He then attended Indiana University–Purdue University Indianapolis, where he was named a “top 100 student” of the entire university and graduated with a degree in philosophy. In his free time, Maurice enjoys writing stories, creating music, and performing in civic theater. He lives in Indiana with a high-maintenance Siamese cat.

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by Maurice M. McKiernan.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2016902882

ISBN:       Hardcover       978-1-5144-6824-1

       Softcover       978-1-5144-6823-4

       eBook       978-1-5144-6822-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Cover image by Nick Dunham

Author photograph by Rock Candy Photo

Rev. date: 03/10/2016

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CONTENTS

The Torment Within

Chapter 1 Another Day In Paradise

Chapter 2 I Wish It Would Rain Down

Chapter 3 Do You Remember?

Chapter 4 Against All Odds

Chapter 5 In The Air Tonight

Chapter 6 Both Sides Of The Story

The Purging Storm of Hell

Bison on the Range

Lady Elusion

Red Lights in the Fog

The Disposing of the Decomposing John Doe

Dedicated to the woman who was my best friend, my confidant, and my biggest fan—my grandmother; to my parents for their unwavering support; and to Frank.

THE TORMENT WITHIN

CHAPTER 1

ANOTHER DAY IN PARADISE

This weather really does a number on my hair, the correspondent for a news outlet complained while looking into her pocket mirror and adjusting to the rain.

You look fine, Cheryl, dismissed her cameraman as he fine-tuned a key light. Get ready for your teaser. We’re almost back from commercial.

The anchor folded the mirror shut and did a quick review of her notes. Not that she needed them—everyone with the slightest interest in the judicial system over the past five years knew the facts of the case. It had been pounded into their head at every turn by every media source. But today, the newscaster was poised to report on the conclusion of the highly publicized ordeal.

The cameraman, Ralph, gave her the cue, and the red light turned on.

This is Cheryl Robinson, and coming up at ten o’clock, I will have a live report from the Terre Haute Prison in Indiana on the most anticipated event in the American legal system over the past few years—the execution of Walter ‘the Wolf’ Vinyan.

Ralph paused until the red light went off then announced, And we’re out.

The broadcaster dropped the microphone to her side and looked over her shoulder at the looming structure. The darkness of the stormy night cocooned the shine from the media attention outside the prison confines. Inside, no convict was asleep, or even resting. Tonight was the night their most infamous inmate was to be put to death. Come tomorrow, everything would go back to normal. Within the prison, the usual politics would resume; and outside the gates, the cameras and the journalists would leave—including Robinson, who reluctantly had dedicated her career to this story for more than three years and was relishing the idea of finally being assigned a new investigative topic.

Vinyan’s case garnered public infamy because of the nature of his cannibalistic crimes, and gained momentum from the constant coverage. Both housewives and loafers alike followed the gory trial every day on television, while grocery shoppers and casual news watchers were inundated with sensational updates at their every turn, the latest being that after the Wolf was convicted, he had waived his right to appeal. The man seemed comfortable with death. He had ushered many others into its stone-cold embrace and now seemed to welcome his own mortality with a jovial inquisitiveness that many onlookers at his proceedings found themselves jealous of.

After a few moments, Robinson was ready to go back on the air.

Cheryl, we’re back in thirty.

She turned to the camera, used a hand to fix her damp hair, and took a deep breath as she waited for the signal from her co-worker; soon, he gave her the cue and the red light came on—symbolizing countless eyes watching.

The Walter Vinyan case began back in 1981, she started. At the age of twenty-two, the Indiana native was involved in an altercation outside of a bar that led to victim Aaron Ross being shot in the face with a flare gun, she continued while Vinyan’s original mug shot popped up across television screens. "After being convicted of assault with a deadly weapon and felony battery, Vinyan was sentenced to eight years in prison. He was up for parole after four.

But Vinyan did not get paroled after four years, and he would not be released after serving eight, Robinson imparted while viewers of the program were shown later pictures of the assailant with a visibly hardened appearance that only prison time could produce. "While doing his state-mandated time, Vinyan was alleged to have been involved in numerous altercations—beatings, stabbings, and even fatalities. In 1987, Vinyan was convicted for the manslaughter of six fellow inmates and given another twenty-year sentence for the charges, which was to be served consecutively.

After twenty-eight years of imprisonment, Walter Vinyan was set free, but soon would leave an indelible mark on the community, the reporter foreshadowed. "Before long, the nation would come to know—and be terrified of—the man nicknamed ‘the Wolf.’

Upon his release in 2009, Vinyan moved back to his hometown of Anderson, Indiana. Trouble—much as it had up until this point in his life—followed shortly behind him. After being out of prison a little more than three months, Vinyan was confronted by Aaron Ross, who had undergone major facial reconstructive surgery, along with four of Ross’s friends. According to Vinyan, the encounter was premeditated, she recounted as pictures of Ross—before and after the flare gun blasted him and seared into his facial tissue—were shown. While the intentions remain a mystery, the results of the encounter certainly are not. According to police reports, the lone Vinyan was attacked with bats, knives, and padlocks looped inside of bandanas, but managed to fight off his attackers, Robinson said before hesitating for dramatic effect. "Then, he became the attacker.

Unsure of how he was able to fend off five men, the police are sure of one thing—Vinyan showed a glimpse of the brutality he was capable of. After gaining the upper hand and slicing Ross in the abdomen with what was presumably his own knife, Vinyan somehow overpowered two men with bats and carved their throats out with what police say was a serrated blade. Then, Vinyan repeatedly cut the arm of another man who subsequently fled from the scene with the fifth party who remains unidentified. The gashes on the fourth attacker’s arm required over three hundred stitches to close, she described as more pictures from the bloody crime scene projected over different mediums.

"Vinyan then returned to Ross, who lay helpless on the ground, and proceeded to mortally attack and bite at Ross’s face and hands. Forensics done on the body show that Ross was bitten in and around the face at least fifteen times, possibly more.

911 dispatch received numerous calls about the loud—yet short—fracas. Arriving at the scene, police saw the three victims and found that Ross’s wallet had been rummaged through. At first glance, they suspected it was a robbery gone terribly wrong, but the sheer amount of facial contusions on the victim suggested that it may be a crime of passion, asserted the correspondent. Officers were sent to the Ross home to inform the family of the tragic news, but they soon became wrapped up in the horrid tale, themselves, she teased with experienced professionalism.

The first policemen who arrived at the Ross residence stated that when pulling into the driveway, they heard screams, and in a gruesome detail from the police report, they claimed they ‘could hear the screaming from inside the squad car with the windows up.’ Calling for backup and rushing in, the anchor depicted while building up steam, "police were horrified to find a mangled body in the living room and signs of a struggle leading back to the bathroom, where they found a terrified Annie Ross, daughter of Aaron Ross, cornered by Vinyan.

The officers ordered Vinyan to his knees but were thrown off balance by his sudden lunge in such tight quarters. Unable to restrain him in the small bathroom, Vinyan clawed at the throat of Officer Tannenbaum while his partner, Officer Whitley, fell backward into the narrow hallway. Vinyan pounced on Whitley, attacking him until the officer was motionless, then turned his attention back to Annie Ross, the reporter relayed to captive viewers while strategically using words to play up the animal-esque angle. "As Vinyan was nearing the bathroom, where Ms. Ross sat cowering in the shower, backup units arrived and, after another scuffle, finally took the perpetrator into custody.

"Investigating the scene, officers were horrified by the carnage they found strewn throughout the home. Aside from the body in the living room, which would later be identified as Aaron Ross’s son, Camden, detectives also found the mutilated bodies of Ross’s wife and twelve-year-old grandson in a bedroom closet, where they were presumably hiding.

After a full confession, being found mentally capable of standing trial, and a subsequent plea of ‘no contest,’ Vinyan was sentenced to execution in the 2011 trial that lasted two years, yet held enough gory details to haunt those involved many times over, Robinson conveyed before immediately wanting to take that sentence back—it was a bit too wordy in her prestigious opinion.

Since waiving his right to appeal, Vinyan has been on death row, here, she stated while motioning over her shoulder, "at Terre Haute Prison for the past three years, and tonight, this is the site where he will be executed by lethal injection at 12:01 a.m.

For many, this marks the end of trying times, which is especially so for this courageous woman who has agreed to speak with us, Ms. Annie Ross, the journalist introduced as the camera panned back to include a blonde woman with a gaunt figure standing next to Robinson in the shot.

Ms. Ross, what does tonight signify for you?

It’s the end, the end of that … monster, Annie stammered until the newscaster began pulling the microphone away. It’s the end of him, but I’ll always have nightmares about what he did to my family. I don’t think that will ever end.

If you could tell Walter Vinyan one thing, what would it be?

The woman thought for a second and tried to speak, but no words came out of her mouth, only tears from her bloodshot eyes.

Thank you for your time, Ms. Ross, the interviewer said before focusing her attention back to the camera. And that marks the end of my report. From Terre Haute Prison in Indiana, this is Cheryl Robinson, GNN News.

The little red light went out and everyone relaxed, except for Annie Ross. Relaxing was something she had not done since the attack and was something she would probably never do again.

Inside the prison was more electric than outside, where the throngs of media trucks each lined up to have the same exclusive scoop on the evening’s events. While the news was reporting what had happened, the inmates were all anticipating what would happen. Over a quarter of a mile away from death row—through locked doors, barred gates, and wired fencing—every convict of the traditional cellblocks stayed awake on execution nights. It was a ritual, and this night was no exception … at least, not in that regard.

Karl Quinn, a corrections officer at the Terre Haute Prison for the last nine months, slowly pushed a cart down the long cement-walled hallway toward death row. At the end, he waited for a buzzing sound indicating the steel door was unlocked then continued through. Karl did not remember this part of the prison very well; he only briefly saw it after getting the job and quickly being toured around the different areas and cellblocks. With his massive six-foot-four-inch and two-hundred-fifty-pound frame, Karl had naturally been stationed as a CO in Cellblock Four, a segregated unit with the reputation for being the most trouble. But his appearance was merely a front; aside from wrestling in high school, he was incredibly docile and lighthearted. It was his size that allowed him to settle many disputes and subdue many prisoners with the simple threat of force being used on his behalf.

As he ushered the tray through death row, Karl wondered why he had been chosen for this assignment—it was possible that he was simply near the kitchen when the food was done, but more likely, he was picked because of his size. Regardless of reason, Karl had jumped at the opportunity and now found himself peeking down at the covered plate and small boom box.

The last meal of Walter ‘the Wolf’ Vinyan, he slowly whispered under his breath while smirking and slightly shaking his head. Not your average day on the job.

At the end of the eerie hallway, a group of people all gathered around one cell. Karl continued closer until the majority of them turned to his direction.

Last meal, he announced.

All eyes went back to the cell.

Three of the people were wearing suits, two of which spoke into the steel door before promising to come back after a short break.

Karl caught the dirty glances from the trio of defense lawyers and wheeled the cart in front of the cell where five guards and the warden were all on watch while another worker recorded Vinyan’s every action, request, and visitor.

My defense team, a deep voice calmly said from inside the shaded fixture of double bunk beds. I’d feel bad—about them not getting paid—if they did anything aside from ask for my death … at my request, of course.

Of course, the senior-most CO present retorted with disgust. That was the only good call you ever made, Vinyan.

Maybe so … maybe no, the voice from the bottom bunk muttered.

The newbie, Karl, was standing tall, but inside his torso a colony of butterflies suddenly hatched and flew all about the small quarters of his stomach. He had seen the news; he had heard the rumors; he had read the papers; he knew what the Wolf had done. Karl looked to the senior CO and was given a cue to bring the tray nearby. He