Hell’S Waiting Room and Other Stories: Stories That Feel Like You’Ve Been Punched in the Mouth!

By David Welch

Hells Waiting Room and Other Stories is a collection of fictionfrom flash fiction to longer fiction piecesthat immerse the reader in a world of intrigue and violence. These stories take the human experience to new levels and push the boundaries of landscape and character experiences.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984540904

David Welch

My name is David Welch, I am a stay at home dad of two beautiful children. My wife is an Active Duty soldier who fully supports my writing efforts and is my best critic. I am a veteran of the armed services have been in the Navy and Army National Guard for a combined 8 years of service. I hold a bachelors of arts in English Literature from Arizona State University, a Master of Science in Leadership from Grand Canyon University, and am currently pursuing a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing degree from National University. I have published work of poetry, plays, and fiction in journals and books including Mort Danse Les Bois A Play, and A Rock in Hard Times Poetry Collection.

Book preview

Brass Knuckle Beat Down

The row of cars parked alongside the apartment-filled road stand resplendent as if in a funeral procession. Vacant, garbage ridden, refused filled, caged lots sit where parks used to be, complete with last nights reused needles and rubber ties. To die here fighting seems like a waste.

Don’t run, this will be over quickly, four to one, I like these odds.

Fuck you, an epitaph, if there has ever been one so meaningful. The paperweight in my pocket feels heavy, like a lead brick. Crack! Skull number one is reverberating from the blow. Practically ran right into the fist at full tilt. As the body slumps to the ground, a step back, the others are wary. Blood stains the grooves as the cold brass rests on work mauled knuckles. A brackish dust is kicked up, invading nostrils and throat.

Give it up, one down, three to go.

Fuck you, A sonnets ending. Divide and conquer, Julius taught well. There is one on each side, one in front, and a triangle of pain. The flanks change levels, high and low. The wedge chooses the solar plexus with a front kick. Right flank, high, suffers a collapsed jugular as brass and momentum meet throat. Low is successful, restraining legs and serving as a placeholder for the kicker. Wedge connects and drives leg and hip through to the ground. The catch release of a blade echoes like cricket’s legs through the corridor of brick and mortar monuments.

Die dick head! Two down, two to go.

Fuck you! A ballads beginning note. Placeholder has too much separation and sits, just a little too high. Right knee to groin, an immediate solution, followed by a roll away from the blade. Blade stabs the base of placeholder’s skull. Up-kick creates distance from the last adversary.

Can’t fight this fucker, three down, one to go.

Fuck you! A war cry. Blade rests firm, the gun replaces the blade, feudal Japan knows this feeling. Gun verses the bold brass.

The perspiring bodies cause plumes of white smoke to dance wildly, mixing with the stench of blood, sweat, and gun powder. The breeze stirs the dried grass and moans mournfully, no sirens can be heard.

Fuck you.

The Tech Guy

Often, I consider myself very intelligent and even bright, but in further reflection I realized that I am a glorified fix it man. People think that I am an evil genius behind the door marked IT Department, but the reality is watching monitors, running programs, and playing an egregious amount of video games. Meanwhile, there are people out there on the phones making money for the company brining in their entire years’ salary in one client. The math works out to one client over the span of four years spending upwards of 75k in those four years. Oftentimes they bring in several clients a day, and hundreds throughout the year. The CEO and other executives have bloated their salaries to half a million dollars a year while everyone else scrapes by at 35k a year feeding, clothing, and providing for families. As for myself I feel somewhat accomplished, 25 years old making 65k a year with certifications only. The employees are required to hold a bachelor’s degree and more than most have master’s degrees.

Inbox1 – my outlook says that there are a few computers to come run diagnostics. Up I go, putting down the controller and navigating the isles to upset employees seeing the bewildered look from their managers. The managers make 55k and in today’s age barely enough to keep afloat, but according to the company they’re doing great.

Hey, let’s just run a few things and see what the problem is, the guys desk is filthy, but I notice to the pictures of his children pinned into the side with one enclosed in a crude paper frame. He’s balding, obese, sweating even though the temperature is a cool 70 degrees in the building, and casting his gaze to his manager making hand gestures in mock frustration. It’s probably the first break he’s had all day. His shoes are really worn, clothes in a state of professional disarray – meaning untucked and frayed in some areas.

Come on guy, I am one goose egg away from being tossed on the street, not easy living hand to mouth, I continue working but acknowledge what he said by nodding.

All done, he sits back down and starts furiously typing to get back in his que. I go back to my fridge and sit down to play some more video games. I feel like a genie, only summoned to grant the companies wishes. Other guys in the tech field have sweet gigs like I do, others, especially ITT tech grads get screwed over. They often take jobs at help desks making $15/hr and at night work at gas stations and restaurants to provide.

Seeing the banality of life in the office space feels stupid, but how else can we pay for our livelihood? I mean I travel, go out at night, and run a side business selling weed to college kids that I grow in double insulated greenhouse 40 miles away.

To feel superior, I follow Elon Musk on twitter, read tech magazines, create fictitious arguments with some of the best minds in technology declaring that I’d thought of that idea 10 years ago, but never acted on it.

Inbox2 – someone’s computer screen went black. Have to go plug it back in and reseat the user

I love being the tech guy.

David Crockett’s Thoughts at the Alamo

They are coming for me, but am I mighty enough to stand? Will they topple the man, or will they face the legend? The doors burst open and the peppering of fire and cannon strike down my fellow Texans. I am unharmed, but tired. From behind the precipice the mass of humanity seeps over like a Mexican wash. Where once we held a position now stands General Santa Ana’s men.

Senor, no need for further violence, give up! the likelihood of that happening is slim to none. I am not the only man standing, but I will be the last.

So, you still won’t yield, will you? I give you the opportunity to surrender! Ripples of laughter come from his men, but the Generals face barely turns a smirk.

Don’t be foolish, you are a respected man, give up the knife, the term over my dead body comes to mind, but in say instead –

You can have it, every inch of it if you don’t surrender! this doesn’t get the reaction that I want, because several men come to take it.

The first man sprawls after a clean right cross to the jaw, but the others tackle me to the ground. Fortunately, my wrasslin skills kicked in and was getting the better of them before the sound of a pistol shot echoed the courtyard.

This is tiring, General didn’t like that I was defeating him still.

I can do this all day! I roared in defiance.

I can’t. the word was nearly as final as the next shot that hit me.

Is that all you’ve got! so that is what mortality tastes like, copper.

The roar is all I could think of next, the blood pumping through my veins was going out just as quickly as my arms churned. My reserve knife nearly hit its mark.

The other bullets, balls, and spikes didn’t hurt like the first.

Through the Rat Hole

To the outside world my parents appeared normal, but behind closed doors our house was a prison. Everything was off limits to us inmates unless it was during scheduled times. Our schedule started promptly at 6 A.M.

0600 – wake up

0605 – Be dressed

0610 – finish eating breakfast (cereal or banana, or plain pop tart)

0615 – teeth must be brushed, hair combed.

0620 – inspection before chores

0630 – chores completed (or a night in solitary)

Yes, we had a solitary confinement. My brothers and I spent time under the staircase in a small closet when we disobeyed the rules:

1. No sound made

2. No entering common areas between meals

3. No sleeping

4. No TV

5. No snacks outside scheduled eating time

6. No playing outside unless it’s family time

The confinement wasn’t worst part for me, for my brothers it was torture, but I mostly slept in there or peered at my parents through the rat’s hole. I could see half of the television and hear it and their conversations.

Angie dear, I thought I heard the boys will you check to see if they are playing? my dad was always in a suit and his lounge clothes meant that he took his shoes and jacket off. His hair was a comb over and he was very tall and thin. He prided himself on being able keep his high school waistline.

I hope they learn their lesson Bill.

I told you before about calling me Bill, do it again and you will find yourself in the closet! William K Johns III was his name and he absolutely demanded to be called so, by everyone.

I am sorry, it won’t happen again, I, Mom didn’t get to finish her thought, because dad motioned her away. That meant she’d be in the room the rest of the evening while dad watched the show. Fortunately, that was the night I figured out how to be free from them. Dad fell asleep in the chair and left the television on. A commercial for child abuse came on that said to let school officials know, but I also knew I had to have proof.

Punch me, I asked William Jr. at the bus stop.

Why? Dad will kill me, no way! He was understandably rattled to do so or be asked to. He didn’t sit for nearly two weeks last time he hit me.

This will help us, just do it, in the eye, confused he shook his head no, but then there was a flash followed by searing pain to my left eye.

I hope you feel happy, I will take the whooping, Jim is only a year older than me, but younger then William Jr. I was mad at first, but found my resolve. He figured out the reason why I needed the punch.

Oh, my dear, who hit your? the school nurse was very young and beautiful. She genuinely cared about her charges.

Daddy! I bawled, screamed, thrashed about like I was possessed. She promptly called the police who searched the house for signs of abuse. Dad sat smugly looking at me, because the house was immaculate.

Check under the staircase, Mom, with a fresh bruise of her own finally defended herself. The smug smirk faded to fear. When they opened the staircase, and saw the pillows and blankets arranged for use and markings left by William and Jim made it clear they had been in there.

Dad never did catch the rat who bored the hole in the wall or his lies. I never thanked the rat for leaving the whole for me to engineer my escape. William Jr. went on to join the Marines and Jim is structural engineer for NASA. Mom went on to remarry another man from church who later killed her for disobedience.

As for me I now work in the same prison as my father, ensuring that he sticks to the schedule. I also ensure to let other inmates know why he is in there. Sometimes he goes to solitary and looks at the world through rat holes.

Fighting the Lion

Gladiator, Salute! the orator deserves to be eaten as any of my comrades.

For those who are about to die! We salute you! before every battle in the sand, gladiators salute those being entertained, the Mob. They are peasants begging for scraps from the political elite. Erstwhile the Emperor can do what he pleases uninhibited.

Bring out, the mighty beasts from the furthest reaches of the Empire! the cages open on the other end of the arena. Leopard, Lion, Panther, and a Tiger come running out into the sand. Tasting the fresh air for the first time in months, the sun on their faces. I know the feeling well. Hungry. The gaunt look and slender frames speak of malnutrition. Except the Tiger, he looks well fed, maybe a privately owned creature. Today, I am the Murmillo, shield in hand and short sword at the ready, and a damned helmet that blocks my field of vision. On this side of the sand I am flanked by a Hoplomachus, Retiarius, and a very short Thracian. I don’t know them or train with them. They should be the best, and from what I can see of their scars this is so. A final fight for freedom, can we achieve it?

Hey, Murmillo, cast your carcass at the lot so we can kill them will ya? humor and solid footing from the Retiarius. His net is already swinging, his trident posted in the ground.

Not likely, maybe our little Thracian can entertain them for us, I quip.

Oi, not today, I am sure the Hoplomachus can feed them for days! The creatures are used to each other, so their mutual interest is us. They start to circle us.

How about we form a fighting circle? I would like to get a chance to eat that fine food I saw cooking outside my cage this morning, We are animals too, to the Mob.

Agreed, let’s use our shields, net, and long weapons to keep distance against them. Incoming, we quickly scoot into a small phalanx position guarding our position. The Leopard and the Panther charge in, both trying to flank us, splitting our attention. The division works, myself and the Hoplomachus face the leopard and the Thracian and Retiarius face the Panther. The crash of beast and shield push the both of us back several feet but allows us to react. The Retiarius throws his net and jabs with his Trident and the Thracian swings in a low arc. They both hit their mark, and the net does its job and distracting the teeth and claws. Blood flows and the animal retreats after a flurry with the net in tow. We fared the same causing damage but maintain our position. However, while we were far enough apart, the Thracian and Retiarius become surrounded by the Lion and Tiger. Before we could react, the Thracian is too exposed to the Lion. He seizes his opportunity and clamps down on the leg, pulling him into the open sand. The Retiarius without his net is now exposed and fighting the claws of the tiger with his Trident. We move to help, but can only aid the Retiarius. The Thracian succumbs to the Lion, Panther, and the Leopard. The Tiger wants a different quarry. We surround the tiger and back him into an arena side. We all lay blows that render the animal motionless. Together we turn to see the Thracians sword sticking out of the Leopards head, but his body is in pieces.

The Thracian took one of those damn demons with him! we stalk forward together seeing the opportunity to kill the rest. Unexpectedly the lion charges our numbers, before we could react the crash sent all of us sprawling backwards. I recover my sword and feel the weight of the Lion on my shield. He’s heavier than he looks and his mouth is locked around my helm. I hear the Retiarius screaming for help, the Panther must have his second wind. My sword arm is being held down by the lion and I can no longer hear the Retiarius, the panther growls in pain from the work of the Hoplomachus. The Panther soon is silent and the lion’s teeth is now around my arm. Then the lion roars, bits harder breaking my arm, and roars again. The spear juts out of his side and I see the trident being worked furiously at the lion’s neck. He runs away bloody. With wounded arm and the release of pressure, I am dragged to my feet by the Hoplomachus. He stands there with the trident and buckler shield.

Let’s finish this and get a drink huh? Relieved I drop my shield and pick up my sword with my weaker sword hand. Together we stalk the already wounded lion. The Mob is roaring for us to kill him. The Orator is declaring our Freedom if it is done. The lion lies to the side due to loss of blood. Spear still sticking out, the lion stares at us as we close in. It is quickly done. As we turn to the Emperors seats, the Orator stands on the edge inviting us to stand in front of him. We do so at some distance apart.

See our fine warriors defeat the horrible beasts! The Mob roars their approval; he continues Should they be free men! Again another roar. Out of the side gate our Masters stroll out onto the arena floor holding swords on pillows.

These men collectively have over 500 victories in the Arena! I am surprised we’ve never met in combat, usually those with high records meet, but it’s understandable if they come from another end of the empire. They all fought hard enough, I am glad it’s over. He’s not done though.

Today they shall be free men! What say you Caesar? The most blood thirsty man in all of Rome stands tall and approaches the crowd.

I say…I say that these Gladiators take these swords as symbols of their Freedom! Earned in blood, sweat, and guts! The roar is deafening, but the sword means no more fighting. As we walk out of the arena and face each other, I see him for the first time without his helm. A tall Norse man with brown hair and red beard and muscle enough to make armor obsolete. The legionnaires hand us our kit and standing at the end of the tunnel is our Master’s – former Masters. Mine is more like a friend than Master, he’d brought me in from the battlefield and patched me up, taught me how to fight and survive.

What say you now Gladiator, will you turn away from me and go find that blasted golden fields I’d heard about all these years? His smile is broad and his hand rests on my shoulder.

Aye, I want to try and find what’s left of my family and rebuild my life under the rule of Rome.

Well, be sure to send messengers when you arrive. I can die knowing you are getting your villa underway. I’ve never seen a man save all of his coin like you and as promised, here you go, He handed me a bag full of all of the coin I’ve never spent. I had a superstition that I built into my winning. The more I saved, the more I resisted touching it, the more I felt the gods were helping me win. My fellow lion killer had already walked through the gate and was regarding me with interest.

I will. I have to see to this arm first and then I will be well on my way, with one more firm clasp I am off. Freedom, hurts.

I see you have some coin! Beer!? Yes, I believe good wine and