As Weird As It Seems

By Jordan K. Sanders

Aidan Miltner is a dental student who passionately enjoys all the fruits of youth with a strong desire to obtain more of what monetary access offers. All that changes when he finds himself thrown into a quantum reality ruled by a despot who proclaims himself lord of superstition. This despot calls himself the Supreme Empyrean and has created an immutable world complete with bizarre curiosities and kooky personalities. Isolated from the comforts of modern society for the first time in his life Aidan must reinvent himself to survive. In this archaic society straying from the tenants of superstition is an unforgivable sin, a dangerously inhospitable place for a non-believer like Aidan.

Follow Aidan’s adventure through a weird world of superstition as he must learn to survive by subverting man, beast and demon alike.
For anyone who’s ever wondered what really happens when you break a mirror or walk under a ladder, this story is for you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jordan K. Sanders
• Release date: Mar 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005962289

Jordan K. Sanders

Upon winning awards for writing at a young age Jordan dedicated himself to learning the craft. After years of study he embarked on a journey to better understand human nature in order to place identifiable characterizations into memorable story lines. Some say his writing style combines several of the best qualities of Hemingway, Poe, Bradbury and Koontz along with an archetypal penchant for creativity. Jordan, however, brushes aside such comparisons saying that ‘in order to bring readers the best possible experience the writer must understand that perfection isn’t a destination but a ceaseless expedition.’ Jordan’s current passion is for paranormal horror however he has expressed interest in delving into other genres. Please support writers by providing your constructive analysis as this will only enhance the reading experience.

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Copyrights

As Weird as it Seems

By

Jordan K. Sanders

As Weird as it Seems is published at Smashwords Publishing Copyright @ 2021 all rights reserved

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission the copyright owner or the designated executor of this book, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright holder is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy or copyrightable materials. Your support of the author's rights is greatly appreciated.

Published by Musesiac Publishing LLC.

Acknowledgment

Father, Mother, Brothers, Barbara, Jessie, Willie, Tammy, Kylie, Javen, Briana, EJ, Junebug, Margaret, Tyrone, Toya, Michelle, Cole, Oscar, Robin, Alexander, Eva, Stevie, Al, Brittny, Jennifer, Katrice, Rodrick, Selena, Stephanie, Robin, Shereka, Gabriel & Javonte Mack, Calvan, DeAndre, Claude, Rev, Sister B, Betty, Regina, Demetris, JoJo, Ricky, Trey, Susan C.K., Zoey, Perry, Kemari, JoAnn, Tiffany, Danny, Kenny, Robert, Jessie Jr., Gabriel, Zoey, Dallas, Travis, Shaenee, ZoeyA, Donald, Lex, Michelle & Eric, thank all of my readers and God.

Introduction

Although most superstitions have unknown origins and can vary from culture to culture the practice has been ingrained in every society since its inception. Of course, the intensity of such beliefs have waned along with man's understanding of the world in which he lives, however, there remains things that are unexplainable. Jinx, Hexes, odd traditions, physical quirks, good or bad luck all these things are as real as you can possibly imagine. I once picked up a penny tails up and had an accident within two hours thus convincing me not to pick up coins unless they're heads up. Personally, I can't recall any adverse experiences from walking under a latter of breaking a mirror, however, daring chance certainly isn't worth the possible outcomes. Like myself the average person considers themselves 'cautions' but not superstitions since the practice is construed as silly. On the other hand, some people totally disavow superstitions as pure nonsense or simply prefer to enjoy their lives without such tomfoolery. Yet, even the most ardent non-believer is weary of black cats, breaking mirrors, Friday 13th and of course three sixes, just to mention a few.

Aidan Miltner is a non-believer; a beneficiary of generational wealth and an aspiring member of the privileged middle-class. Without yet having to suffer the pains of true adversity he believes the world revolves around him; however, life isn't often what we plan or anticipate. When Aidan and his girlfriend (Bethany) are thrown into a Quantum Reality created by the professed Lord-protector of superstition (the Supreme Empyrean) life as he knows it turns upside down. For Aidan this world of weird is an inescapable Terrordome complete with metamorphic monsters and the mentally deranged who practice superstition religiously. In his quest to escape Aidan encounters a strange apparition which he attributes to the onset madness. As time goes on the apparition manifest itself as a visiting spirit offering to aid in his escape if... Choosing freedom at all costs is undoubtedly an iffy proposition considering the duplicitous and ambiguous nature of his emancipator. Trapped within a damned if you do, damned if you don't conundrum Aidan must nimbly navigate a world of freaks and monsters or be killed in the name of superstition. Every step towards freedom is rife with the kind of iniquity that irrevocably changes Aidan's existence.

Early Reviews

Nolan Price- The author effortlessly juggles numerous characters while spinning an intriguing plot with artful flare. I appreciated the pace of the story. I always felt like the characters were moving forward without leaving me (the reader) behind. This was a good read and I'd recommend it to anyone who enjoys a good horror story.

Tamron Matthews- Refreshingly original: With all the rinse and repeat writing it's good to discover someone willing to write outside the box. The hero is outnumbered with physical disadvantages that reduces his odds of winning. I enjoyed reading about a hero who uses the tool most of us depend on daily for survival, brain power. The writer also did an outstanding job of making superstition a true horror story. Definitely recommended!

V. Faison- I'm not easily terrified by books or movies but as they say nothings scarier than real life. I don't know anyone who doesn't have some kind of belief in superstition so this one like dropped me into this guy's shoes. Still not scared but a bit less careless around mirrors and black cats. When you read this one you'll know the title is the truth.

Peter Jimerson- Very creative writing crafted with rhythmic compositions akin to a seasoned novelist. I'm fastidious about grammatical errors but there's not much of that here. I did learn a new word however telling it might spoil the book for some so I suggest you read this one for yourself.

Lauren Mishue- After a few chapters you're in a place you don't want to leave. Personally I read the whole book almost non-stop and enjoyed every minute. This isn't your hackem' slashem's bloodfest but the psychological horror will claw at your thoughts for quite some time. Recommended.

Chapter-1

Peppermint Twist

The town of Buttend (pronounced Button by its residences who finds any mispronunciation of their beloved town name intolerable) is one of modest means where the townsfolk, unfettered by holistic complexities, put on their brand new Sunday suited joy every day as they go about the business of providing for their collective well-being. A brilliant crown of gold glistened against the careless waves of skies so blue that it appeared as a moment of splendor captured in glass. That luminescent band of beauty mingled with the crystal clear waters of PeePee Falls whose large droplets plunged from its rocky ledge glistening like unmounted diamonds. A caboodle of aqua-pura streamed from the pond below into and around Buttend serendipitously integrating an ingeminating virility of lush landscape with old-styled brick houses topped with slate roofs. The symmetry of these homes was similar, if not the same; mounted solar panels overlooking evenly manicured slices of grass with trees functionally and aesthetically placed. No one seems to want or need for anything because life in Buttend was as idyllic as a Norman Rockwell painting with all the drips, splashes and wide strokes of an abstract existence. Indeed, the residences of Buttend couldn't recall an unhappy day nor, if asked, would they explain the historic circumstances surrounding the town's origins because who questions perfection: The sun shines the moon glows the air is sweet with the joy it grows.

Summer Sails was a woman of more than forty-five but less than fifty, crested with complementing strokes of time that infused her dark hair in a resplendence of silvering wisdom. By the length of her memory she'd lived in the town of Buttend with a husband she absolutely adored preparing meals around the same time each day. Her husband was a man of medicine who worked tirelessly to keep all the people they loved healthy and strong, so she worked equally as hard to ensure that the home they shared would be a sanctuary of abiding affection. Never a day passed that she and Dr. Sails didn't find themselves bathing in long, liquid gazes that caused their skin to tingle as warm explosions percolated throughout their bodies. Tonight's dinner was roasted broccoli, steamed cauliflower rice, johnnycakes, steamed Bluegill, and for dessert, one of his absolute favorites, cherry pie. The cauliflower rice and johnnycakes always required pre-planning because she had to request the additional ingredients from the Mungers, who ran Grandbush Grocery, a few days in advance as they weren't common store shelf items. Ordering special items, however, was always a challenge because there weren't many secrets kept in Buttend. Not many secrets stolen either. That is to say that gossip was so anomalous it was unlikely that the people of Buttend knew comprehended its meaning. But for all of its unconcealed naivety, truth is the witless adversary of kindling romance. The doctor worked nearby and all he had to do was ask the Mungers about his wife's visit to unravel the surprise. Summer believed that creating unexpected excitement added enormous value to marriage, just like saying rabbit when you wake up, then finding a rabbit hopping around your front yard. It's about inviting good fortune into your life. She only wished more people felt the way she did; she didn't want them to become liars mind you, just a bit more discreet. Still, everyone was happy and, as the Supreme Empyrean says, happiness is the heart of the greater good.

Summer opened the oven door and removed the cherry pie, which her husband always called 'cheery pie' with a big smile on his face. The aroma burst from its confinement with a sumptuous surge of buttery sweet ambrosia that imbued the air with a taste of brown sugar combined with hints of Ceylon cinnamon. The golden brown crust represented the circle of home-made excellence, which was faithfully evident in every aspect of her day to day routine. In fact, there was such a calm, unbending air of peace about her that it seemed as if she'd floated over all the pitfalls of life and softly landed in the arms of angelic bliss. Her happiness seemed not to rely upon equal governance but a natural harmony of two personalties proportionally using their strengths, each in benefit to the other. Yet, in the same vein, her kind of happiness raises the ire of modern-day woman who uncompromisingly conflate happiness with freedom and equality, with reason, of course, given the history of women's suffrage. Summer Sails, however, wasn't a modern-day woman fighting for her rights nor Beth March from Little Women who is eager to please but some odd amalgamation of both minus the repressing bias often associated with conforming to societal norms.

Summer took the tree of life trivet from its hook and held it against her chest as she moved about the kitchen. The trivet was carved by the town's engineer who'd given many things to his beloved townsfolk, all of which she dearly cherished. It was said to be made from enchanted wood brought back from the Nevertell Forrest not far from the boundaries of Worlds-End. The Supreme Empyrean had braved untold dangers for such a simple thing but to carve it himself then coat it with a unique varnishing ward... Well, to say the least, knowing how much he cared about the townsfolk brought a tear to her eyes each time she touched it. She placed the trivet on the sill of the bay window before sitting the cherry pie on top and opening both sides in order for it to cool. Looking back at her were restrained rows of life-sustaining trees that appeared to sacrifice its natural inclination to flourish for the contentment of smoothly cut green grass embellished by picturesque blooms of azaleas. Overall, it was a clean blue day spirited by an absolute miracle of delicate sunshine. The calming winds were transparently soft and gentle, carrying with it a familiar ballad from blue jays, Robins, sparrows and Magpies skittering tree to tree. It was an absolutely stupendous day rich with echoing assurances of things to come.

The air would carry the pie's scent up the walkway and greet her husband with a lovely surprise, thought Summer as she busied herself with the final dinner preparation. She'd just started a pot of water boiling for their honey lemon tea when she heard the flapping of feathers near the bay window. She turned towards that sound and stood fast in an eon of dread as a bird invited itself into her home. It was an enormous bird, one that could easily prey on a large-sized dog if is chose to do so with its knifing beak and long hooking talons. The bird's body was soddened with oils of jetty blackness and its eyes (smoldering iron embers) guided a shaggy, thick neck aimlessly around the kitchen as its wedged-shaped tail flicked contemptuously. Summer's pulse began racing at breakneck speeds, her heart sputtered like a sprinter with asymmetrical legs and she felt she could no longer breathe. She moistened her lips several times before bitting into soft tissue that yielded a salted taste of pain which assured her that she was awake and not dreaming. Then, at the ridge of the tree line, she saw another raven spiraling downward before landing nimbly directly across from its twin. Together they hopped a disembodied waltz separated by a window of sunlight which reflected coiling wraiths of oblivion off their glistening bodies. Summer, suddenly lacking the power of speech, screamed within herself and that scream sent resounding chills throughout her living body as she feared the ultimate communion with the earth. She gasp for air as they penetrated her soul with those smoldering iron embers and in the acceleration of fear she imagined the final shovel of dirt blotting out the sun before maggots began their frenzied feast. Summer shut her eyes tight against a vision of rotting flesh and kept them closed until she felt the strain of this effort crushing her brain. Slowly, ever so slowly, she opened her eyes to an utterly beautiful cherry pie still cooling in her bay window.

***

Her husband arrived home as always with an eager desire to embrace his loving wife. Throughout dinner he lauded her with lip smacking praises while talking about today's happenings seemingly innocuous to his wife's programmed interest, which lacked even the usually moderate amount of enthusiasm. After dinner they strolled a little less than a mile around the golden streets of their neighborhood hand in hand before reaching the subdivision's entrance. The sign read 'Longer Gate' and was written in raised white brick lettering as bold and lustrous as the street they walked on. It was an amazing feat of brick-masonry that would probably be referred to as art if not for the frequency of reproduction throughout Buttend. Still, it was something enjoyable to behold; the wall followed a herringbone pattern around in a semi-circle, columned on both ends with a stone sculpture of the Supreme Empyrean fixed east to west. Although the Supreme Empyrean was humble in all things, these carvings radiated a magnanimity of benevolence that was nothing less than an effluence of charm which epitomes everyone they knew. Standing before that sculpture caused Summer to wish for the wisdom of the Supreme Empyrean who'd know if what she'd seen was real and if it was, what should she do after the fact to avoid unthinkable consequences. The Ravens' arrival paralyzed her. Therefore, she wasn't able to take the necessary steps to stave off such wicked harbingers, but the Supreme Empyrean would know, if he's able to see her, she thought. If not him then one of his sons might be able to get a message to him, but she didn't think time was on her side because time is the wheel that never looks back as it perpetually grinds forward.

Summer could barely hide the misery of her dilemma as they enjoyed a wistful evening home with the love of her life. She sat in her favorite wide seated chair tending to her sewing duties while listening to her husband play This Old Guitar: Sheet music that had been given to him by the Supreme Empyrean and one of his favorite tunes which he sung with an intimate passion that usually transported her to a midnight sky where she'd made a wish of love upon a blazing spear of fire. But now the phantom of precipitous tears fell upon her fleeting heart in a deluge of grief and those awful muted screams were soddened with anxiety. Throughout the night Summer tossed in and out of sleep, cheered only by the first glimmer of light which prompted her to greet the new day as a remedy for that which ailed her.

Before cooking breakfast Summer held her lucky rabbits foot pendent with her right hand as she tossed a pinch of salt over her left shoulder, while her toes were pointing straight forward she lifted the right foot, setting it down about two feet to the right, then quickly sliding the left foot heel to heel so that they were positioned where they started before. After a moment's hesitation she hopped two feet to the left and released the rabbit's foot to prepare breakfast. The birds outside had already begun tuning up for today's concert when her husband came to the table, neatly pressed, freshly shaven and wickedly handsome with an inviting smile as white as the frosty glass of milk awaiting him. His complexion exuded an unfaltering brilliance of character which proudly enhanced his extraordinary Nordic blue eyes which one could only imagine being reserved for the god of thunder himself. With abounding satisfaction and a hearty good-day, they embraced for a kiss at the front entryway standing just below the horseshoe hanging above the header, the same as they'd always done. Alone once more Summer found herself ensnared in a tangled web of anxiety as she watched her husband's departure a lot longer than usual in thoughtful contemplation of today's tasks.

Because it simply wouldn't do to leave a dirty house she cleaned at a feverish pace until a little after noon before conceding that moderate satisfaction would have to do if she hoped to catch up with Basil, one of the Supreme Empyrean's sons. She exited Longer Gate at a brisk pace, setting her sandaled feet upon the golden stones of Silly Lane, which lead to That Way before veering left onto Radiation Highway. She'd walked maybe ten minutes before coming across Young Ward and Icarus Beamwood, two of the town's landscapers who are solely responsible for maintaining the well-manicured greenery enveloping Buttend could be seen approaching in the distance. Icarus Beamwood's shiny red bicycle was hitched to a glossy black trailer that carried a ruby red reel mower along with a vat of water and other landscaping implements. Icarus petaled with persistent vigor while Young Ward maintained a comfortable jogging view of the rear so that none of their prided possessions would go astray. She'd seen them in action a few times during special errands and always marveled at their synchronism. It was as though words flowed between them like the calm of whispering winds. They each shouted an exuberant good day in passing and Summer could smell hints of roasted garlic nestled in a warm ambrosia mingling with their sweat and she knew that they'd just left Falloff Cafe where they were likely serving Baked Garlic Chicken for lunch: Her husband is loving that she thought noting that she'd need to start the broccoli casserole as soon as she returned home.

Summer passed Lazy Peeps Park and had almost reached Kat Crouch Parkway when she heard a woman's voice yelling behind her. She turned to see Tobee Ward breathlessly calling her name as she ran towards her. Tobee lived in Chicken Loop off of Bollweevil Lane and works at Grandbush Grocery alongside Dead and Paisley Ugly. She'd just passed her husband on the way to Fallout Farm and wondered if Tobee needed something mended for her husband whose job often required seamstress services. Tobee was a soft-spoken woman with brisk features highlighted by forget-me-not blue eyes that made her skin glow ever so much more brightly which, by blithesome spirit, created a halo that ran in around an abundance of glossy black hair. But there were no forget-me-nots under her worrisome brow, no halo running though her silken black hair but an unfitting earnest in her shouting that overlapped the urgency of Summer's mission which caused her feet and heart to suddenly become frozen in the Arctic of despair.

What's going on Tobee?

You gotta come to the doctor's office. Your husband needs you.

No more words needed to pass between them as Summer understood the urgency of the matter through Tobee's bridled gasping. All the way back to Maim Street she imagined the cackled laughter of those two Ravens as they prophesied a misery she simply could not bear. She imagined herself lying alone in the dead of night while a horde of wretched reavers crept into her brain like uninvited ants to a picnic, consuming all that is good. It was the kind of sleep that cheats upon itself. The mind, in bondage to grief, holds the body hostage so that neither could experience the pleasure of sleep. So for both there was an overwhelming impotence, the lassitude associated with an inability to control mind or movement which can only be defined as a waking nightmare. All the while there is a recognition of reality within the dream state that blends, constantly blends, with sights, sounds and even smells of a bloodstained horror that should not exist in a sane world, but the brain cannot separate reality from imagination. And for that time you only exist in the nightmare and in that state you do not trust neither do you doubt your senses because you are wholly affected by this frothy concoction of wickedness until the waking consciousness of morning stirs you from it. The ceaseless repetition of this horrid imagery deeply wounded Summer and she all but bleed out tears before reaching the doors of Passwynd Analeptics.

Upon entering she was immediately greeted by the scent of freshly cut Lemon Balm plants. It expelled the tang of lemons blended with a hint of mint that coalesced bitter sweet in her mouth. Her husband grew these plants in his shop, along with others, to treat his patients who had a wide assortment of ailments requiring his unbroken dedication. There wasn't maybe but one person around who hadn't benefited from his skills at some time or another and that one couldn't necessarily be counted amongst the ordinary. An illumination devotion permeated the room with rising shelves stocked with medicinal supplies each one neatly labeled and glistening like the trinkets and baubles swinging to and fro as they went round and round on the display wheel sitting atop the mahogany chest where all of his