The Portal: A Collection of Short Tales

By Ron Stelle

Meet the things that go bump in the night in unforgettable stories of horror and the paranormal by the author of The Mill and The Globe.

Step into the Portal, where time and space are blurred, as you flip through the pages of the supernatural realm. Stories of monsters brought to life by Halloween magic, stories from your childhood nursery rhymes played out with a new twist. You will be transported to your worst fears in the carnival haunted house and become lost forever while looking in the penny arcade mutoscope. Come along for the ride as a writer is pulled into his stories by a muse with bad intent.

The Portal is a collection of stories sure to keep you up late at night . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Apr 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9781639843213

Book preview

The Portal

A Book of Short Tales

From Ron Stelle

All rights reserved

Pen It! Publications

© 2017

ISBN #:    978-1545230121

ISBN #:     1545230129

Edited by:  Erin-Jada Bowden

Cover Art by:  Kimberly Miller

First Edition © 2017

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, without the express and prior permission in writing of the Pen It! Publications.  Book may not be circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is currently published. 

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.  All rights are reserved.  Pen It! Publications does not grant you rights to resell or distribute this book without prior written consent of both Pen It! Publications and the copyright owner of this book.  This book must not be copied, transferred, sold or distributed in any way. 

Disclaimer:  This book may contain adult language, graphic content and some situations that readers may find unacceptable.  Neither Pen It! Publications, or our authors will be responsible for repercussions to anyone who utilizes the subject of this book for illegal, immoral or unethical use.

This book is a work of fiction, unless otherwise stated.  All characters, places, business, etc. are a work of fiction submitted to Pen It! Publications by the author.  Any resemblance to those living or dead, is purely coincidental.  The writing is solely that of the author and does not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher.  References to famous people, places, movies and products are for reference purposes only and we hold no copyright and/or trademark on them as such.

The author is responsible for approval of any and all edits and are the final responsibility of the author. 

All inquiries regarding the content included in this book should be directed to Pen It! Publications.

Pen It! Publications, LLC

[e-mail]

www.PenItPublications.com

www.BuyMeBooksNow.com

Dedication:

This book is dedicated to Enzo,

You have enriched my life immeasurably

and are the joy in mine and Ma ma's heart…

Preface

While I enjoy writing many different genres I tend to come back to the supernatural comedy, as I like to call them. Why supernatural comedy? It is my signature style of writing where you might be looking over your shoulder one minute and laughing out loud the next. I also enjoy writing the short story as it allows an idea to become realized sooner and often tells the tale better.

The Portal is a collection of all of my short stories over the years including three which have never been published by myself. These stories run the gamut from werewolves to computer muses that bring the author literally into the story.

My favorite of all of these is AWEN as it is about Halloween and my time as a youth wanting to have the best costume around. Red is another I am particularly fond of. It is a modern twist on the Red Riding Hood story. All in all The Portal is sure to entertain you as you enter another world for a little while...  

Table of Contents

1.     LOL

2.    AWEN

3.     Hallmark and Jack Meet the Sandman

4. Hans and Greta

5.    Rogena and the Gnome

6.    Red…

7.    Snow…

8.    Christmas on the Tracks

9.    The Mutoscope

10.  November 1st

11.   November 2nd

12.  November 3rd

13.  November 4th

14. November 5th – 9th

15.  November 10th – 12th

16.  November 13th

17.  November 14th – 15th

18. November 16th – 17th

19.  November 18th – 28th

20. November 29th – 30th

21.  Eternal Nightshade

22. New Year’s Eve at the Blue Moon Cemetery

23. The Diatramium

LOL

It’s a computer, Dad, it’ll help you pass the time, Jason told his father.

Yeah, it’s like having a library and movie house all in your lap, added Jack, Jason’s brother.

Philip Hanson looked at his two eldest sons like they’d each grown a ‘stupid’ head and were using them to communicate.

Really, do you knuckleheads actually think I don’t know what a computer is?

No, Dad, of course not. It’s just that ever since mom passed all you do is sit in this stupid chair and zone out, watching reality shows like Hardhead Pawn, or Mallard Millionaires, and God knows what else. At least with this you can interact with other folks and maybe learn something, Jason scolded.

Jesus Jack Cheddar, if either one of you insults me again I swear to the good Lord Almighty I’m going to kick both of your asses!

Jack, growing stones that were normally pebbles when around his father said, Dad, calm down for Christ's sake. All we wanted to do is expand your horizons. You know, give you more options.

Options? OPTIONS? Let me give you boys a couple of options, shall I? Philip’s level of anger was quickly reaching epic proportions.

Option one: shut the fuck up, mind your own business, and leave. Option two: Leave.

Jason and Jack looked at each other, back towards their dad, and back to each other again.

Yes, yes, you're related to each other. Now, in case you didn’t pick up on my not so subtle clue…LEAVE!

Jason and Jack just shrugged their shoulders and walked to the door. They were used to their father's outbursts and cynical ramblings. He’d changed drastically since mom died and had become a miserable, mean, old bastard.

Happy birthday, Dad, Jack brazenly tossed out as they didn’t let the door hit them in the ass.

Philip Hanson didn't always behave like the backside of a horse. Why, just a few years ago he was a fun-loving, vibrant man with a loving wife and a great job. Philip had been the head coach of the Tarkenton Tigers High School football team for nearly thirty years. For twenty-two of those years the Tigers had a winning season (which was one of the reasons he had been with the team so long). He also ran a small carpet cleaning business to supplement his income, and had a small work force of six men and two trucks. His career, and pretty much his life, had all ended two years ago in June. He and Pamela, his late wife, had been on their way to visit their daughter, Sally, her husband, Bob Andrews, and their two children, Billy and Sandy.

The Hanson clan all lived in Tarkenton, Texas. Tarkenton was a small town located roughly halfway between Houston and Austin, close to Cave Lake. Tarkenton's motto was ‘The town that refused to grow up.’ Tarkenton was pretty much the same today as it had been fifty years ago, sort of like the ‘Hidden Valley’ of the south. The economy was booming, oddly enough, in part due to the computer components factory located ten miles outside of the town. Quantum Electronics employed 16,000 of the 25,000 residents of Tarkenton. The company was the major supplier of computer components for many of the popular computer brands used by most of the civilized world. The company was owned by one man, Marcus Appleton, a well-known recluse and was almost never seen in public. The stock was high and the employees were well paid. Yes, Tarkenton was a great place to live, with peace and tranquility, friendly neighbors, and a moderate climate. Tarkenton also had its fair share of tragedies as well...

Out of these tragedies was the one that occurred that fateful June day, while Philip and Pamela drove their 58' Thunderbird, Philip's only real passion after football, across town for their Sunday visit. The Hanson’s were driving down the main drag, Appleton Road, just outside towards the outskirts of town where Sally and her family lived. Bob was the foreman of the laptop computer division of Quantum Electronics, where he kept the assembly line running smoothly, and was paid a handsome salary for doing so.

It was a clear day, not a cloud in the sky, when reality decided to skip a beat and invite the Hanson’s along for the ride.

Bob says Billy is already asking when he can play football on a real team, Philip stated.

He has two more years before he can join the Pee Wee league, right? They have to be at least ten if I recall, Pamela answered.

That’s right Pa-ma, Pa-ma was what the grandkids called her, but boy is he chomping at the bit! exclaimed Philip.

PHILIP, LOOK OUT! Pamela screamed at her husband with genuine terror.

‘What the…" was all Philip got out before the world went dark.

Twenty feet in front of them a fissure the width of the road and ten feet deep opened up before them without so much as a 'by your leave' tremor.

The car hit the fissure head on, instantly catapulting the Thunderbird hood over trunk into the air. The Bird went twenty feet into the air and landed on its hood with the sickening crunch and shriek of metal on pavement, then skidded another twenty feet.

When the first responder arrived at the scene, Pamela was already dead from a broken neck and Philip wasn’t able to feel his legs. After freeing the two passengers from the crumpled car and putting them in the ambulance, the paramedics and firemen talked amongst themselves.

What in the hell happened here? Robby Culpepper asked the question on everyone’s mind.

No skid marks, no other vehicles, nothing. It’s as if they just…flipped. Jack Lester added.

Looking back at the road they saw no fissure, because it wasn’t there anymore.

One hour earlier...

Benny Johnson was pissed. That putz Philip fucking Hanson had suspended him for three days for not calling in when he failed to show up to work Friday at the carpet-cleaning store. What was he supposed to do? His alarm hadn't gone off and his shift was almost over. At that point... what was the point? Sure he’d gotten wasted with Darryl Sodden and Rusty Knight, the other two members of his team of industrial strength carpet cleaners, on Thursday night, but hey, it was Darryl’s birthday and all. Wasn’t he allowed to have a few drinks and tokes with the boys when one of them had a birthday? Okay, maybe this was the third time in a month and yeah, he had been warned, but still…

Benny had been Facebooking with his buds when he decided to post his displeasure at the situation:

You know what? I wish that asshole, Philip Hanson, would suddenly fall in a giant crack and break his stupid back! LOL!

OW! Benny hollered out, because as soon as he had typed ‘LOL’ his finger burned like he’d held a match until it burnt down.

Weird...

Marcus Appleton should have been sitting on top of the world. He was a billionaire, had his choice of beautiful women, and was in excellent physical health. He lived 25 miles outside the north end of Tarkenton in what could be called a castle. He owned a stable of cars that would make Jay Leno jealous. Not to mention a private jet and helicopter for those times when he wanted to dine at the place the cuisine was named after, although he never did. He could have been a celebrity and brushed elbows with the Hollywood elite had he not had one personality flaw: Marcus was a textbook agoraphobic. He had a very real fear of the outdoors. His genius in the field of computer dynamics and silicon chips came at a high price. His revolutionary discovery and consequent development of the super chip had stood the computer industry on its head ten years ago and was still the best chip in production because it actually ‘developed’ with technology. It was, in essence, a learning chip. It was the science that allowed the huge amount of space needed for social networking to continuously grow without draining all of the other programs in any given computer. Almost to the day he’d announced his discovery of the super chip, his fear of the outside world had come crashing through the gate of his personality.

At the time of his discovery, he’d been working for Edge Water Electronics as a programmer. An idea continued to roll around in his head of trying to find a way to make an affordable home computer that could hold the same amount of programs as the much more expensive military and corporate models. The reason the military and corporate computers could do so much more is that they had massive memory capability plugged into a network as it were. To have a personal computer able to do that kind of computing would cost the average consumer ten thousand dollars and an extra room in their home to hold all the hardware. The truth of Marcus’s discovery would never leave his lips, however. Not now, not ever.

The fact of the matter was, one day, during the summer of 2002, Marcus was getting ready to head home after work when he saw a small box sitting on the corner of Antoine Lewis’s desk. Antoine was from Jamaica and was pretty ambitious himself. Marcus didn’t really trust him because he had Rastafarian dreadlocks. Also, Marcus thought he dabbled in voodoo rituals and such. Antoine had not been in the office the last three days so Marcus was sure he had not seen the box. Marcus walked over to the desk to see who it was from and noticed there was no marking on the box at all. No name and address to which it was sent, as well as nothing in the ‘sender’ area of the box. As soon as he lifted the box off of the table a feeling of need came over him. He knew in his heart he should put the box down, right f’ing now, but after a moment’s hesitation he put the box in his pocket, stealing it. As he exited the building he found that he had a bit of anxiety in his stomach all the way home. It went away once he went inside.

Walking into his apartment he immediately put the box on the table. It felt…odd in his pocket. He walked around just looking at the box as if it had a bomb in it and he needed to figure out a way to diffuse it and, in a way, he was. He realized on about the fifth walk around that he was afraid of the box.

Quit acting like a child and open the damn thing!

The voice in his head had been his father's, reminding him that even though he’d been dead these past twelve years, he was really never far away. Shoulder chips tended to do that. Marcus heard his father’s words even if his scaredy cat brain hadn’t.

He picked up the box and opened it. Sitting in the box on a folded piece of tissue was a tiny computer chip. Having been in the computer business for most of his adult life and being able to assemble one from scratch, he immediately saw that this particular chip was advanced in a way he’d never seen before. Without hesitation he sat down at his own PC and began taking it apart. Once he had the hardware side of the computer in pieces in front of him he saw the area where he could switch the chips and the advanced-looking chip fit perfectly in the aforementioned spot.

After reassembling the computer, he turned it on and found the computer was moving so quickly it was as if the machine was responding to his thoughts rather than his keystrokes. He tried a plethora of different programs and found that no matter what programs he went to, he somehow managed to land on one with a ‘chat’ room. While on these particular sites he felt warmth in his mind that was almost euphoric. When he purposely went to another site, the feeling vanished. Even when he was on the other sites, however, he saw how much quicker and clearer they appeared. He worked through the night as he tried to find a way to introduce the chip without raising suspicion. Suddenly, he heard his alarm clock go off in his bedroom.

Wow, I’ve been up all night, but I don’t feel that tired, he said aloud. He hurriedly got ready for work and found he actually had to force himself to do so. He didn’t want to stop working with his new found prize. Finally, he opened the door to his apartment and stepped out to get in his car and felt an unnatural kind of anxiety similar to the one he’d had last night.

What the hell is this? I feel…afraid of something, but I don’t know what, he thought.

The feeling that something horrible was about to happen stayed with him until he walked back into his house that evening and got back to work on the super chip. In his subconscious he knew what was happening to him, but his conscious mind wouldn’t allow him to accept it because he had to work to be able to live. Money mattered. So it came as a huge surprise one day when he was going through his wallet and found an old lottery ticket. Then, because why not, he checked the lottery site on his computer and was astonished to find that he’d won a million dollars! The money allowed him to stay home all the time, which was a great relief because he’d been reduced to taking tranquilizers to walk out his front door. He bought himself a nice, albeit modest, home where he could work in privacy on his discovery. Marcus refused to let the unnatural aspect of said discovery to enter into his conscious thought, as it would cause unwanted worry and fear. He also refused to acknowledge to himself the fact that his fear of the world outside his door had occurred at pretty much the same moment he had put his stolen prize in his pocket.

One year to the very day of his discovery, he announced to the world through a deal with an up-and-coming computer firm called Quantum Electronics, the revolutionary super chip.  Because every computer company in the world would want what only Quantum could provide, he then became super rich.

Jasmine Adieu, high Priestess of the Xander voodoo cult, thought again that it really didn’t matter who released the Chitaric and Antoine was the perfect vessel to carry out the task, but the Chitaric had thought otherwise. Eternal entities are like that sometimes. It had been ten years since Marcus Appleton had succumbed to the influence of the Chitaric and had introduced its powers into the world via social network sites. It was amazing to Jasmine how the world just accepted the fact that millions of people could all be on the same site, across the world, and never once question just how this could be. The time was right for the old ways to take control and blame it on ‘cultural’ upheaval.

Humans never disappoint...

Yeah, like Kelly Morison would ever even talk to me. I know, I will just say to her, ‘Kelly, you need to drop your boyfriend and be with me!' LOL.'

Jackson Thompson smiled to himself and felt a little nervous about what he had just posted on Facebook. Sure it was almost impossible that Kelly would ever see the post as she ran in a completely different circle than he did. Still, someone who knew her might see it and then he would be in for it. He decided to delete the post. He went back to the post and clicked on the little arrow in the upper right corner to bring out the drop down menu. Then he hovered the mouse over the ‘delete post’ option and right clicked. Immediately, a small message window came on the screen saying, ‘this function is not allowed due to privacy settings.’  After the fifth try, he threw in the towel. Jackson wasn’t a computer geek.

If she sees it, then she sees it. There’s nothing I can do about it, he said to himself, more as a shield than an out. He decided to go to Dairy Queen for a soft serve cone.

As he closed the laptop, the light on the screen shimmered from white to red…

Kelly Morison and Billy Barlow, her boyfriend, were on a date at the Leeland Amusement Park and were just loading into the Ferris wheel for a little hanky-panky. They climbed into their car and jolted forward as the ride started its circular journey. The ride went around as Kelly and Billy fooled around until they felt the ride slowing down. Of course the ride stopped to let off the first riders leaving Billy and Kelly at the top. They broke apart long enough to tuck in shirts and straighten hair when the ride jolted forward again. The ride jolted forward so hard that the car holding them broke off one of the cables causing it to hang by a singular cable.  Poor Billy involuntarily slid toward the gap between the metal dowel-like rod and the footrest leading into dark empty space. As Billy slid by, Kelly grabbed his hand and said, Hold on, Billy, I got you!

Suddenly, Kelly had an overwhelming desire to make out with Jackson Thompson. So surprised was she by this sudden driving need, she involuntarily let go of Billy’s hand.

I dropped him, she thought in a stupor.

The lid on Jackson’s computer clicked shut, just as Billy’s body hit the ground, leaving a shallow crater in the concrete.

Jason found himself cruising the internet in hopes of finding more pertinent information about the stem-cell research Superman had been trying so desperately to see come to fruition so he could fly again. It wasn’t because his dad was such an asshole to be around these days, well, not only because, but that he wanted to see if there was a procedure that might reverse his father’s condition. Philip had been a great man to be around before the accident and Jason wanted to meet that man again before a condition came around that could not be reversed. Jason listed his dad’s name with a group of others that had the same desire to be rid of their affliction on a site that claimed to be monitoring all possibilities for a cure to neurological paralysis. The site promised to contact those willing to try ‘treatments’ not currently on the approved list by the American Medical Association. 

Jason decided to switch over to the social network to see if his brother Jack was on so they could share in seeing the worlds of those never met. He saw that his brother was indeed on chat and started a conversation.

What’s up Jack? Shouldn’t you be doing something more constructive with your time at work?

Jack was the vice president at the Tarkenton First National Bank and spent a good portion of his time surfing the net.

I could ask you the same question there, Jason.

Jason worked as an independent contractor for Quantum Electronics as an electrician and made a damn good living. The cool thing about his job was he could do as he liked until he was needed to fix a problem at Quantum, which required his particular skills. He also had three men working for him who did most of the work.

I was thinking, maybe we’re going about this the wrong way. How about we go to a Native American medicine man or a voodoo priest and get them to put a walking spell on the old man?

Yeah, that’s probably as likely to work as anything else we’ve tried.

Cool, so we agree that what we need is a voodoo priest to cast a spell on pop so he can walk again, right?

That’s fine with me as long as the voodoo dude doesn’t need chicken feathers, LOL.

It was Saturday afternoon around two o’clock.

Philip Hanson had been involved in a nice conversation with a woman named Jasmine for over three hours after saying ‘to hell with it’ and going online to that Facebook site where folks got involved with each other’s business. Jasmine was very nice and was trying to find a way for the two of them to meet. She said she was a widow and was interested in making friends for social interaction. Philip had already told her that he was confined to a wheelchair, but she told him that it didn’t matter to her at this point in her life. Judging by the picture that went with her profile, Philip found that hard to believe. She was a very attractive woman of Jamaican descent and appeared to be in her mid-fifties. The woman was far from ‘past it’ and would need a man that could be a man.

Come on, we can just have a little picnic over by the lake. I bet you haven’t been outside to do something fun in a while. Am I right?

Philip looked at the post for a full minute before responding.

Aw, what the hell, why not? What time were you thinking?

How about one tomorrow, it is Saturday after all. Do you have a ride?

I have my own van with a lift that puts me in the driver’s seat. Let’s meet at the ice cream stand at the entrance to the lake walk and then we can find a place to picnic, Philip typed his response.

He should have said no…

When Saturday rolled around, Philip rolled his specially made scooter, designed for travel in his custom made van, out to ‘said’ van and loaded up. Loading up consisted of putting his contribution to the picnic into the vehicle: a bottle of Chianti, a pound of deli cut roast beef, and a fresh loaf of cheese baked in bread from the local bakery. Then he pushed the button on the inside of the sliding door that activated the hydraulic system to lower the ramp and turn the driver’s seat about face to accept the driver.  Philip rolled up the ramp and shifted his bony butt and useless legs from one seat to the other and then pushed the button on the side of the driver’s seat, which moved him into place so he could use the hand controls to drive the vehicle. Philip put the vehicle into drive and headed out to Cave Lake to have his first date since the accident.

Jasmine Adieu was preparing a potion that would definitely put the step back in Philip Hanson’s life. It wasn’t that she was psychic or anything like that, it was more like she acted on certain impulses she felt were Chitaric inspired. The potion, as it were, did not really do anything. It was more like the symbol, which represented the actual supernatural act that occurred at the whim of the Chitaric. In fact, the Chitaric itself was nothing more than the name given to the force that had always been working behind the scenes throughout history. The Internet presented an unprecedented opportunity to wreak havoc to the humans it despised. Of course, there were always limitations to the amount of havoc that could be raised, as there was a balance in the world that could not be altered too much in either direction.

Jasmine put the finishing touch on the apple pie, then put it with the chips and dip she made for the picnic and headed out the door.

Jasmine said I would recognize her by the white lily in her auburn hair, Philip thought, as he pulled up to the parking space available in front of the Cave Lake Ice Cream Stand.

It also didn’t hurt that he’d seen at least a dozen pictures of her on her Facebook site.

He didn't think to ask her what kind of car she drove, but there were only three others here, so if she were here he would soon find out. He didn’t have to wait long.

Can I help you in any way?

Jumpin' Palomino on a pogo stick! Philip exclaimed.

Sorry, I’m Jasmine. I didn’t mean to frighten you.

Well, um, uh, more like you startled me, Philip lamely replied.

Of course. Is there anything I can do to assist here?

Nope, I have this down to a tee. As he and Jasmine continued to talk, Philip did the reverse of his getting in the van routine so he could exit.

Very impressive, I must say, Jasmine smiled.

‘You should see me do it when I’m drunk."

Maybe I will, if you get lucky.

Philip looked up at Jasmine so quickly his head almost flew off his neck. Jasmine had an amused look on her face, not one that suggested she was being a smartass, no. She just looked…amused.

Right, well let’s be off for a stroll, shall we? Philip said, doing his best impression of a British aristocrat.

Sounds totally fabulous dahhhling, just faaaabulous, Jasmine replied in the same Queens English.

So they set out for a walk around the lake, making small talk and getting to know one another. After a bit, they stopped at a nice spot with a lovely view of the lake and spread out a blanket and laid out the picnic goodies.

They started with the chips and spinach dip, which Philip enjoyed immensely and sipped on the Chianti while continuing to make small talk.

You told me you used to be the head football coach at the local high school. What was it? Oh yes, the Tarkenton Tigers, right?

That’s right, for over 30 years up until the accident, Philip said, a note of sadness and longing in his tone.

It seems that you were getting close to retirement age at the time of the accident. Had you been thinking about it at all?

You know, I don’t think retirement ever seriously entered my mind now that you mention it.

What would be the first thing you would do if you regained the use of your legs? Jasmine asked.

To be honest… Philip let his eyes finish the sentence as they went up and then down Jasmine’s body.

I really didn’t think you would say anything else, being a man, Jasmine said with a giggle.

Well, why not? It isn’t like the opportunity will ever arise. Excuse the pun, Philip responded.

Pun excused. How about a piece of this homemade apple pie? I made it myself, Jasmine said enticingly.

Sure, I love apple pie, especially homemade.

Well, then you’ll love this, because I put in a special ingredient, Jasmine responded.

Really, what was that?

Chitaric seasoning, Jasmine honestly replied as Philip took a big bite of magic pie.

It was straight up two in the afternoon…

After finishing their picnic lunch, Jasmine went about picking up the trash and putting the utensils and remaining pie back in the basket. As she was turning to walk over to the trash receptacle, she accidentally kicked Philip’s left leg.

OW! Philip exclaimed.

I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to kick you. Does it hurt?

Hell yes, it hurt! I… Philip couldn’t finish the sentence as the reality of what he was saying and feeling dawned on him.

I can feel my leg. The simple thought had anything but simple ramifications.

I CAN FEEL MY LEG!

Wait, what? You’re kidding, really? Jasmine exclaimed, sounding as surprised as any Oscar winning actress might when fabricating an emotion.

Jesus on a pimento loaf, I can feel my leg! I can feel my leg! Holy shit, I can feel my leg! Hurry, kick the other one, Philip demanded.

I’m not going to kick your other leg. I didn’t mean to kick you the first time, Jasmine replied.

No problem. I’ll take care of this 'cat meself', Philip crazily replied, stealing a line from Spike, the Looney Toons bulldog.

Philip reached into the picnic basket and pulled out a butter knife, which he promptly stuck into his right foot.

OWWWWWWWW!

Any question about feeling coming back to his legs was instantly vanquished by a searing pain in his right foot.

Immediately, Jasmine knew the Chitaric had plans for this one. What that particular plan was, however, she had no clue.

Jackson Thompson may not have been an intellectual giant, but he knew, while looking at the post he’d made about Kelly and Billy, why Kelly had asked him to meet her in two hours outside Tarkenton General Hospital where Billy was still in intensive care. She’d seen the post and was probably as spooked as he was. He’d typed, ‘Kelly, you need to drop your boyfriend and be with me! LOL’ and she’d done just that at the same time it was written.

She will probably slap me or something Jackson thought as it was impossible to actually bring to his mind’s eye that other possibility. Billy had lived, but broke all the ribs on his right side as well as his collarbone. He had sustained quite a concussion, but was coherent and could talk. The Leeland Amusement Park had shut down immediately to do a safety inspection of all the rides, and John Barlow was actively seeking representation on his son’s behalf to ‘sue the shit’ out of the park, as he liked to put it.

How in the hell did she drop Billy at pretty much the same time I wrote ‘you need to drop your boyfriend,’ Jackson thought again against his common sense's protests. Before he could continue his journey into the forbidden thought portal, he found himself pulling his 02’ Explorer into the hospital parking lot.

I don’t remember driving here. Great, now I’m losing time. I could have killed someone, Jackson’s thoughts wouldn’t leave him in peace.

Thank you for coming, said the voice close behind him.

Fat taco on a sesame seed bun! Jackson exclaimed unusual food choices when surprised.

Not my first choice for an evening snack, Kelly replied.

Mild case of food Tourette’s, Jackson quickly stated.

That’s pretty hard to digest, Kelly countered.

Nah, you just have to keep your vocabulary on a strict diet.

Jackson thought it was possible that this entire meeting would consist of the two of them trading humorous quips back and forth about unusual food choices when Kelly surprised him big time.

Without batting an eye, Kelly moved closer to Jackson, put her arms around him and started to passionately kiss him. After what seemed like hours to Jackson, she broke away, stepped back and said, Oh my God, I have wanted to do that since just before Billy fell out of my grasp.

Prickly pears pumpernickel loaf, you, you, you ki-kissed me, Jackson stated, both shocked and breathless.

What, you didn’t like it? Kelly asked, as if what she just did was on the normal menu today.

Bu-bu-but supernatural coincidences and such, Jackson sputtered to relay his thoughts on why he was here.

Well, I thought you might be surprised but…supernatural?

No, I was talking about…err… the reason you…why did you kiss me?

Because I think I love you or...desire you, or…I don’t know why! It’s like I said, just before Billy fell off the Ferris wheel, I thought of you and how much I wanted you to kiss me, Kelly honestly answered.

This really is supernatural. Something is tying the two of us together, using us like Pinocchio pawns, Jackson thought to himself. Still, Jackson was a male, so what he actually said was, Want to surprise me some more?

Marcus Appleton had everything a man could want, everything but vacations and trips to the zoo, but only loved one. Sprite was a miniature collie and was his only full-time companion. Marcus had named him after his favorite soft drink. Sprite went everywhere with Marcus, everywhere inside the mansion that is. Sprite was allowed supervised visits outside under the watchful eye of Barlow, Marcus’s butler, so he could alleviate his bladder and know what grass was. This was adequate for the dog as the property around the mansion encompassed forty acres.

For a man who hated the outdoors, Marcus sure had a lot of it in his possession. Now Marcus may have been a recluse and agoraphobic, but he was still a human being with a need for social interaction. That being said, it was a secret known only to Barlow that Zach Wilson, as his Facebook fans knew him, was in reality one Marcus Appleton. Marcus had created the alter ego years ago to see how the other half lived and to see how his personality interacted with them in their everyday lives. His number one rule was to always be honest with these people in his opinions and emotions. He would always be him, just using a different name. He had amassed over 250 ‘friends’, as it were, ranging in age from eighteen to seventy. He found that due to his conservative political leanings, that his friends were typically like-minded people. Zach was an aspiring writer who held down a job in the automotive industry and was married with three children, one biological and two step kids. Marcus chose this persona because lately he had so much free time and had tried writing a story just for the heck of it. Turned out he had a gift for the written word. The story turned into a book and he actually published it himself to help validate his Zach personality. Sometimes, when discussing topics of shared interests, he would forget that Zach was a non-entity and speak as himself, before remembering that he needed to filter his comments so as not to give himself away.

Senator Jackson is an ass. He supports the current administration and pisses on the true patriots of this nation, Zach posted Marcus’s thoughts.

What do you mean? He is making sure that those who are out of work can put food on their table. He wants to take away the guns so there will be no more crime against defenseless children and he wants to make those who have guns register and be held accountable, Johnny W. responded.

"I will be damned if I will have some high minded sons of bitches who, by the way, are living large, steal my hard earned money and share it with those who do not feel like