Darkness Screams :Howling Deep: Darkness Screams, #1

By Fae Corps Publishing, Abigail Hilyard, Christopher Weston and 10 more

Dark and creepy tales that will have you howling at the moon

Stories By :

Abigail Hilyard

Christopher Weston

Jennifer Elliott

Jonathan Degler

Katie Marie

Keely Messino

Linda Chambers

Raz T. Slasher

Tish MacWebber

Vonnie Winslow Crist

 

Poetry By:

Patricia Harris

Ruan Bradford Wright

 

Art By

Alex Page

Vonnie Winslow Crist

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fae Corps Publishing
• Release date: Oct 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215014646

Fae Corps Publishing

A relatively new Indie Publisher, Fae Corps is all about helping the Indie Author find the magic in their art.. We are the authors and the small storytellers. We are all about helping the new and struggling authors to be seen.

Book preview

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Darkness Screams: Howling Deep

Copyright © 2022 Fae Corps Publishing LLC

Editors: Patricia Harris/Cyndi Pilcher

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. While some names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, some are accurate, but are used to further the story. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Cover Art By Patricia Harris

Darkness Screams

By Patricia Harris

Into the night you can hear it,

Howling deep inside,

the wind rising filled with blood.

The darkness screams

as the monsters unleash

leaving tears behind.

The lights cannot defeat it,

the whisper quiet of the night...

as the monsters are still out there

time to ready for the fight.

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Abigail Hilyard-

To my husband and my daughter. And to Mrs. Turnage who always enjoyed my stories.

Keely Messino -

My loving and supportive partner Jacob

Raz T. Slasher -

Dedicated to the amazing crew of Heuston Woods State Park in Ohio; the real Lost Creek.

Tish MacWebber -

I would like to take a moment to dedicate Fly Or Die to all of my Besties! You know who you are. If you don't, I do, and that is really all you need to know. Unless you want to know who is Thelma, and who is Louise. I'll never tell.

Table of Contents

Joey by Vonnie Winslow Crist

Poets by Ruan Bradford Wright

Horsemen by Vonnie Winslow Crist

Stella by Katie Marie

Imago by Ruan Bradford Wright

Dragon Worm by Vonnie Winslow Crist

I Bought A Voodoo Doll by Abigail Hilyard

What’s in the Toy Box by Vonnie Winslow Crist

Fly or Die by Tish MacWebber

Immortality by Patricia Harris

behind blank eyes By Alex Page

Catching A Friend by Jennifer Elliott

Apocalypse by Patricia Harris

Halloween by Vonnie Winslow Crist

Man Eater by Keely Messino

Invisible Paint by Patricia Harris

Goats by Vonnie Winslow Crist

White Wall, Red Wall by Christopher Weston

The Dormer by Linda Chambers

Lost Creek by Raz T. Slasher

My Island by Jonathan Degler

About the Authors

About the Publisher

Joey

by Vonnie Winslow Crist

Not everything that appears human is, thought Terrence Tee Terwilliger as someone he did not know waved at him from the edge of a pine thicket when he turned into his driveway. The man was smiling but in a creepy way. When Tee glanced in his rear view mirror, the man was gone. He had no idea who the stranger was or why he was waiting at the edge of the road.

Which was exactly why Tee distrusted clowns—those smiling buffoons who wore make-up, wigs, and motley. They deliberately hid their identity. No one really knew who was beneath the disguise until it was removed.

His unease around jesters had started early. When friends and colleagues dropped by to visit his parents, they often wore clown costumes. Though terrifying for a child, it made sense. Both of his parents worked as red-nosed, balloon-carrying, children's entertainers and, also, taught at the Northeast Clown Institute. Well-respected in the industry, the NCI gig paid for the Terwilliger family's modest Plymouth home.

At dinner, Pop would say, Laughter will put meat on our plates ever after!

Mom would giggle. Her canned response was: Tumbling and thrills, pay our bills.

Their lighthearted view of clowning did not comfort Tee. He would look out the window and spot a red-wigged person standing on the lawn almost every day. Often when he answered the door, a jokester garbed in striped pantaloons stood there. In an effort to alleviate his discomfort, the visiting clowns usually brought him balloons. This happened so often, that Tee also developed an aversion to balloons.

By moving to a cottage in the woods beside a still-water pond, he thought to avoid the family Terwilliger's clown mania. It had worked for a few months. But lately, he'd spotted huge footprints in his gardens. He felt he was being watched.

Perhaps it was a coincidence, but at the college where Tee taught there'd been a rash of unexplained clown sightings. The first had been after a fraternity party, so the police had discounted its authenticity. Too much alcohol combined with too much imagination was the official ruling. In the second incident, a jester had been spotted peeking in the first-floor windows of the women's dormitory. Weird peeping Tom was the college's stance. Other less explainable sightings followed.

In an attempt to make light of the situation, the students voted to theme their homecoming parade, Clowning Around. Rather than making things less frightening, the constant presence of humongous circus figures being constructed for the floats was unnerving to many. Not to mention the posters promoting the parade featuring a grinning jokester plastered on bulletin boards around campus, which made some students jumpy. Though Tee had decided against attending homecoming, he heard most of the town had crowded into the stadium to witness the spectacle.

A few weeks later, when five children from the local elementary school claimed two clowns driving a minivan had offered them candy, their principal felt compelled to send a note home to parents: Please remind your children to avoid strangers, and never take any food from someone they don't know.

By Christmas, the whole evil clown business seemed to have settled down. Tee supposed people were focused on shopping, baking, partying, gift-giving, and the rest of the holiday activities which fill the hours from Thanksgiving until New Year's Day to worry about painted-faced boogeymen. But as Tee surveyed the forest surrounding his house, he knew at least one ruffled-collar villain was out there. Fresh clown-shoe footprints had appeared in his garden again this morning.

Willard, an Army vet who sat at the corner table in the local diner and seemed a wellspring of local folklore, had told Tee when he'd first moved to the cottage, The longer you spend in the woods, the stranger the air gets. There are things in the woods that play on your fears.

Tee had laughed. Now, he suspected Willard knew more about what lived in the deep forest than he had revealed.

Today seems as good a day as any to drive down to the diner. See if Willard's there, Tee said to the stuffed squirrel perched on the fireplace mantel.

The squirrel, a leftover bit of decor from the home's previous owner, didn't answer, but Tee's phone rang at that exact moment. It was Mom. Pop had died unexpectedly during the night.

***

Surprisingly, Pop's funeral was tasteful. Tee expected nods to his father's occupation, but Mom had judiciously selected which clownish items to display. Plus, she had requested everyone to wear street clothes, not clown outfits, to the service. The only nod to Pop's clowning was the balloons, rather than flowers, surrounding his coffin.

Things took a downward turn after the service and luncheon when Mom proudly presented Tee with a few mementos of Pop's career.

Tee, your father wanted you to have these things. He picked them out years ago. He said they were meant for you, explained Mom as she handed him a cardboard box filled with clown stuff.

Thanks, he said. But don't you think some of his friends would appreciate these things more?

Oh, no. His mother patted his arm. I think he hoped after his death you'd step into his shoes, she pointed at the huge pair of blue shoes on top of the heap of jokester paraphernalia. One more thing, she said as she opened her curio cabinet's door and reached for an antique doll.

No, Mom. That is your favorite. Tee wanted to add that the clown doll gave him bad dreams as a child. He suspected it would still give him nightmares.

Don't be silly, dear. He wanted you to have Joey. He is the crown jewel of Pop's collection, said Mom with a smile on her lips and tears in her eyes. In fact, he said to give it to you, and you would figure out what to do next. She shook her head. Though, I don't know what he meant by that.

Thanks, Tee replied. He forced himself to take the doll from his mother, and placed it atop the clown shoes. Listen, I've got to go. It is a long drive. I have papers to grade, classes to teach in the morning, and...

Don't be sorry, answered Mom. She patted his arm. I want you to get home safely. It has been a long day. Besides, she added in a cheery voice, the instructors and students from NCI have invited me to a full-costume celebration of your father's life beginning at seven tonight. You are welcome to come if...

Not this time. I need to head out of Plymouth before it gets any later.

His mother smiled, hugged him, gave him a kiss on the cheek, then walked Tee to the door. Take care of Joey, she said.

He nodded. After placing the cardboard box in the backseat of his car, Tee glanced at the door. He saw his mother was still watching. With a sigh, Tee plucked Joey from the box, held him up, then climbed behind the steering wheel. Mom waved before closing the door.

She is probably in a hurry to get her make-up, wig, and costume on for tonight's festivities, he thought.

Before starting the car, he studied the doll. It was in surprisingly good condition, considering Pop's grandfather had brought Joey home from England after World War II. Grandpap Terwilliger claimed he bought it cheap from a man selling trinkets at the edges of a thicket of trees. Bargain or not, the doll sent a shiver up Tee's spine. He supposed it was the wide smile and glass eyes. Truth be told, though he came from generations of entertainers, Tee feared mimes, clowns, and dolls. His teaching position fit him like a glove—a keep-your-hands-warm-in-the-winter glove—not a white clown's glove.

Not sure where to stow the doll, Tee let Joey ride shotgun. About ten miles from his cottage, he drove past a fast-food restaurant with its grinning, yellow-suited clown waving from the exit sign. Without warning, an elderly woman pulled out of the drive-thru and into the side of his car.

I was distracted by the sign, said the woman as she handed Tee her insurance card. I think it is a new sign.

The insurance companies will handle this, he assured her. He climbed back into his car, glanced at the smiling Joey, then continued home.

As he pulled up to his cottage, Tee swore the woods looked thicker, more ominous than they had this morning. He shook his head and went inside. After removing his suit jacket and kicking off his shiny funeral shoes, Tee flopped on the sofa to decompress. He tossed Joey on the coffee table, grabbed the controller, and turned on the television. Looking for mindless entertainment, he started watching Batman. Just as Nicholson's grinning face filled the screen, the power in the living room went out.

What now?

Tee grabbed a flashlight from a kitchen drawer and stomped down the basement stairs to check on the breakers. He flipped the offending breaker back on, then returned to the main level of his house.

Walking back toward the sofa, Tee thought he saw Joey smile even wider.

Grief is playing tricks on you, he told himself. But just in case the clown did have something to do with today's accident and flipped the breaker, he decided to read rather than watch television. A fan of Stephen King, he picked up a hardback reissue of It, flipped to the bookmarked page, and resumed reading.

All was well until Penny-wise appeared. Tee hadn't even reached the end of the sentence when the bulb in the light beside the sofa made a crackling sound, then went out.

He glanced at the doll. This time he was sure Joey's eyes glinted—just a quick flicker, but a flicker nonetheless.

Tee went to bed. He left Joey on the coffee table.

***

When he woke in the morning, he was exhausted. All night Tee had dreamed of clowns dressed in Joey's garb peering at him from behind every tree in the forest. All of the clowns in his dreams had the same modified black Mohawk hairstyle, white face with