Beware the Dreadful Visitor

By CJ Easley

A stowaway running from his past meets his fate at the hands of The Dreadful Visitor

A woman enters what seems to be a quiet bar; in her sorrow, someone has noticed, but she soon learns to Beware the Man In Black.

A hardworking farmer toils for his family, but is watched from far above In the Shadow of the Tower.

A relentless young man, with eyes on a greater life, earns his place in a prestigious government, but their secrets will teach him the meaning of Self-Sacrifice.

A grieving husband finds himself caught in the horrifying clutches of an inescapable town, but the evils run deeper; it is A Place Beyond Humanity.

From the mind of C.J. Easley, comes a collection of vast titans and provocative ideas. The stories within hint at worlds that provide insight to strange concepts and emotional poetry. Here is an invitation to open the door, and let your curiosity run free.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jan 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667886541

Book preview

The Dreadful Visitor

An expanse of heavy clouds rolled ominously above black waters; the night had taken over as the doom-laden sea crashed upon itself in uncontrolled anger of nature. The lonesome boat was tossed against the will of her crew amidst the thundering threat of capsizing into the watery deep.

As the harsh pattering of furious rain beat against the wooden ship, an unwanted little man pressed his hands firmly around his head. He fought the storming sweeps of motion that threatened to give him an end he couldn’t control. Although there was no room to move a muscle, he ran.

Out on the open raging waters alone, the ship struggled to stay afloat. Even so, Mother Nature was determined; heavy clouds matched the blackening color of the night and the depth below. Nighttime became so powerful that it was a struggle to see a short distance ahead of you. Water crashed onto the creaking ship, and the men carried buckets to throw it back; they each hoped that where they threw was away from the boat. The powerful rain was blurring their eyes, soaked their clothing, and dangerous gales eagerly fought to carry them into the black storm. In the face of such danger, they knew, even though they could do little more than pray, that the end would be assured if the boat capsized. What doom would await them below should they sink?

The sound was devastating, and though they wished not to speak, their shouts of help were nearly lost in the thunder. No one heard the hundreds of whispered prayers centered in one solitary spot in the stretching expanse of rolling sea. One could still hear another sound clearly, the creaks and moans of a wooden ship crying for an end to the nightly onslaught.

And yet the battle between nature and man raged on.

The shouting from the crewmembers trying to keep The Dreadful Visitor afloat was fighting to be heard above the din out in the perilous waters; even shouts closer to him were distant and hardly heard above the din. Peregrinus held terror of being found in his heart, and the fear held him steadfast in paralysis. His only movement was taken against his will; shivers from the cold wet, and toss of the sea, were the only things preventing him from staying still.

Peregrinus had hid himself among a number of blankets for months in a cramped corner among the animals. He had yet to be found on the trip that never seemed to end. Eating from the beast’s feed, and drinking their water in secret, had been a small price to pay for his coming freedom. The man who ran on the roaring seas.

From what?

Jolting Peregrinus’ fragile trance, a large figure had burst from restraints; its four legs stood strong but afraid, and its black hair was matted down with water on its magnificent skin. The mare’s face was crowned with a grand spiraling horn extending between its ears; the black skin and hair along with the short fangs protruding downward from the mouth marked it as an uncommon breed. Standing the height of a man and a half before Peregrinus was The Dreadful Visitor’s secret cargo: dark unicorns. The rarity of such a creature could make a man rich beyond measure.

The grandeur of the unicorn was inverted by the peril she knew she was in; her eyes darted, and she slipped and struggled to stay upright. The soft sounds she made had become fearful cries, and each became louder than the last. Peregrinus observed the creature’s beauty and fearsomeness, and noted the contradiction of her trapped by leaking walls, like a proud lion uncertain among a frozen snowy landscape.

Only then did Peregrinus become aware of the danger; it takes one crew member to check on the scared animal for him to be caught. Shakily, with an uncertainty weighing on the back of his mind, Peregrinus climbed to his feet, and he approached the animal with arms spread out. It was so difficult to hear that he didn’t bother with words, but hoped the magnificent unicorn could see him in the dark.

He placed himself directly in front of her, and tried to stay in front of the thrashing fear. Reaching out with his mind, Peregrinus searched for her anxiety while simultaneously trying to keep from being trampled underneath her. She continued puffing out hot breath, and making panicked mumbles from deep in her throat, when Peregrinus finally touched her anxiety; her dodging head snapped to focus her full attention on him the second it happened, and he felt a bit of anger surrounding the anxiousness she was caught in.

The unicorn took a step closer and considered him with fiery eyes. Gently, Peregrinus soothed her anxiety, and she ceased exhaling aggressively. Although, he could feel that she was still guarded. Peregrinus slowly put his hand forward until his fingers felt the sensation of touching a very dangerous animal; he then caressed her head in a soft, repetitive motion. Eventually, she lay down, and he sat next to her. He took to gently stroking the unicorn’s wet mane in a gentle, soothing manner.

Who the hell are you?

Peregrinus' head swung toward the surprisingly strong voice he had heard quite clearly, but only for the assailant’s fist to strike his face before any other interaction could be had.

His sleep was dreamless, and he woke to the sounds of argumentative voices; despite still being wet, Peregrinus had to squint against a glowing sun, and a near cloudless sky that held a certain curiosity. The salt water in the air was plainly there along with a small breeze. He glanced at the voices speaking passionately, and took in some of the faces aboard the ship for the first time on the trip. Their features were hardened, and their eyes weary and grief-stricken. The deck looked emptier than when he had first snuck aboard, not of gear, sails, or other ocean-faring utensils, but emptier of men to wield them.

The man currently speaking had an arm in a makeshift sling, and was still in heavy clothing wet with the rain from before; his voice carried a desperate quality.

We’ve already lost so many people to the storm this past week, and now my arm needs time to heal from last night. I know he’s a stowaway, but he could help keep us afloat. I say we put him to work, and then dole punishment when we no longer need him.

Even squinting as he was, Peregrinus wanted to see what was in the sky more clearly, and returned to looking up to make out the curiosity with bleary eyes.

He snuck aboard; he should be tossed over. That’s the law of the sea, and I don’t see why that would change for the likes of him, a gruff dissenter replied to the man in the sling.

Peregrinus blinked several times trying to gain more consciousness; his head throbbed and was still unclear. The light made the pain surge, and he squeezed his eyes shut hard; the pounding ache caused him to press his face against the damp wood deck he was kneeling on. A quick jerk of his hands found that they were bound tightly. Dully, he heard a flurry of raised voices, and felt rough hands force him up from the deck. Only an excruciating moment facing the sun he hadn’t seen in months before the hands dropped him to the vaguely foul scent of the hard ground. The heat of a summer afternoon was beating down intensely on his back; how long had he been out? How hard did he get hit?

He heard a voice mention that he was awake, and another that said he was an omen of bad will. More voices speaking; all of it only made the throbbing worse. Peregrinus ignored the voices, and could only count the gentle pulse that would mark the incoming wave of agony.

Pulse. Pulse. Pulse.

On and on, turning thought into hell.

Peregrinus slowly opened his eyes, and tried to force them to adjust. Just get through the pain, and he’ll forget about it, as he had done through everything. The debate was heated by the posture of the gruff figures, and the body language of the speakers, but a modicum of respect was still carried throughout. These men knew they had to stay in the same proximity to each other; harsh words of insult would not make the rest of an extraordinarily difficult voyage any easier. One of them caught their attention, but he was looking at