Killdozer… And Other Stories of Horror

By D.J. Kravon

Dive into six tales that begin with a man who couldn’t deal his cards with reason and, instead, uses another form of negotiation with a fabricated 60-ton decision maker!

Then follow the journey of a man who finds himself stranded on an island with amnesia, and an approaching fog carrying within it unknown horrors!

Learn why one shouldn’t open their home to a stranger who might simply be crying wolf, and be wary of the houses we buy, for either can turn into ultimate nightmares!

And so, journey into madness, and prepare for absolute horror as you read these tales of phantasmagoria!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: May 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9781649793324

D.J. Kravon

D.J. Kravon was born and raised in Colorado but currently lives in Montana with his family. He has always been passionate about writing and becoming a published author to share his work. His passion stemmed from long hours of enjoying the works of Stephen King and Clive Barker. He is also an avid horror fan with extensive movie knowledge and a passion for watching films. 

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About the Author

D.J. Kravon was born and raised in Colorado but currently lives in Montana with his family. He has always been passionate about writing and becoming a published author to share his work. His passion stemmed from long hours of enjoying the works of Stephen King and Clive Barker. He is also an avid horror fan with extensive movie knowledge and a passion for watching films.

Dedication

I dedicate this to my wife. Thank you for your encouragement and patience.

Copyright Information ©

D.J. Kravon 2023

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable for criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ordering Information

Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Kravon, D.J.

Killdozer… and Other Stories of Horror

ISBN 9781647503925 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781649793317 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781649793324 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023904130

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 33rd Floor, Suite 3302

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Killdozer

Bobby Chapman sat in the seat of his D10 bulldozer, his brow beaded with sweat, and his eyes resembled that of a madman. Emotionless, he slowly reached out his hand for the kill switch; turning off the machine, knowing his time had been finished. Bobby looked at the two monitors on either side of him with tired eyes. The monitor to the right of him revealed what was once a promising little hardware store, now laid to waste: a shattered dream for the owners of this place, just as his business once was, was demolished into nothing more than a tragic memory. To the left, his other monitor revealed a small glimpse of a road through the center of what he thought to have once been a fair town, which was nothing more than a place of shame and embarrassment.

Where did I go wrong? Bobby asked himself. What have I done?

Bobby closed his eyes, as a single tear formed from the corner of his eye and slowly rolled down his dirt-ridden cheek. A feeling of sadness had overwhelmed him. He slowly opened his eye’s halfway expecting this to be a nightmare. But, to his dismay, a black window still laid before him, and the answer he so very sought, he knew without a single doubt, only sat but two maybe three inches from him. This was his prison, a place of solitude. And soon to be a place of judgment, and it was at that moment he had all the time in the world to think.

Is this what I really want? And that’s when he remembered how this anguish had all began.

What is it that I have done, you won’t hear me speak? Bobby shouted in the meeting room of the town council. The board members sat silently, all facing Bobby as they looked upon him with unforgivable eyes. They could sense his expression of anger toward their unfair decision, as they themselves were about to express a little anger.

Well, are you gonna answer me, or not? Bobby exclaimed once again, this time slamming the palm of his hand on the oblong table before him.

The town manager, Ron Elroy stood from his seat as if he had a firecracker under his ass. Now you listen to me, Bobby. Sit down! He paused waiting for Bobby to sit. Bobby could only stare right back at him, as a tiny bubble of rage slowly began to build within him.

Sit down, now! This time he hit the table with his fist as if it were Thor’s hammer.

Bobby looked at the other board members feeling like a grade school student, who was just yelled at by the teacher in front of his classmates. So, he found his seat and sat down quietly.

Ron also sat back down himself as he began shuffling around some papers before him.

Now, I have complaints against you Mister Chapman that up until now, we have agreed not to enforce. But it seems you are giving us no choice than to act upon them.

Bobby knew damn well what the complaints were from, but to his knowledge he had no idea, there were more than one. He sat alone in his chair as if the entire world had been coming down upon him, his mind raced with a certain fury he tried so hard to contain. Fiddling with his thumbs was about all he could do at this point to keep himself calm.

Ron put the complaints back in his folder hidden away and set it aside. Leaning forward in his chair, he began to speak with Bobby about how long he’s been with their small town, and the progress his welding shop has made for himself. But honestly, Bobby ignored every word, instead, he had an idea and it was a good one. He was for sure that the board couldn’t deny him of this and so he spoke out, interrupting Ron.

I have it! Bobby blurted out uncontrollably.

Some of the board members literally jumped from his sudden outburst. As for Ron, his patience had begun to wear thin from this entire deal, but he knew being head of the board he would have to take it into consideration.

All right Mister Chapman, let’s hear it. Ron spoke with a tone of slight annoyance.

I got that new dozer; I just bought not too long ago. Bobby paused for a moment examining their reactions.

Ron on the other hand didn’t seem too impressed at all. I could build another path that way there’s easier access to my shop. What do ya think?

Every board member, including Ron, all spoke amongst each other in a whisper so it had been hard for this fifty-year-old Bobby to eavesdrop on the conversation. When they had finished, Bobby seemed nervous but excited at the same time. There’s no way they could deny me of this. He thought to himself. And once again Ron stood from his chair, composing a figure of masculinity and power. Bobby stood from his seat as well, looking Ron straight in the eye.

I wish to address this to you in a way that makes it easier to understand. We understand the new cement plant has in fact blocked all access to your place of business, but we feel we must delegate this matter more carefully. So, we will put your request into consideration and have an answer for you within a month’s time. This meeting is finished. To avoid any further speaking with Bobby he tried very quickly to gather his briefcase and papers before any further questions were to rise. But Ron was too late.

A month, I can’t wait an entire month, that’s too long!

Listen here Bobby, Ron stopped short of that sentence, realizing he needed to bring his voice down a notch. Bobby, consider us even thinking about it as a favor. Ron sat his briefcase down and walked around the table to Bobby.

Now look. We have to take this to the zoning commission and everyone else. Otherwise, I’d give you the go-ahead right now. Ron then placed both his hands upon Bobby’s shoulders and with a snake-like grin in which Ron appeared to be speaking the rest of what seemed to be with a serpent’s tongue. Wait for my answer within a month’s time, and I assure you, I promise you… everyone will walk away from this whole mess with smiles. Ron then patted Bobby on his right shoulder a couple of times and then began to walk to his briefcase. Reaching it he bent down receiving it from the ground, he turned to Bobby and spoke once more.

Trust me, Bobby, OK.

And Bobby witnessed the serpents’ grin once more.

Bobby accepted his misfortune and for the next few weeks, he knew he could keep himself busy. Taking his mind off of certain issues that pertained to his upcoming endeavor. And for those weeks passing by, extremely slow it seemed. Bobby pretty much kept to himself and occasionally walked with plans around his property, getting a good idea of where his new entrance to his shop would be.

Originally the idea was this new cement plant would purchase Bobby’s property. They offered him a substantially reasonable amount of money for his land, but it seemed their price hadn’t exceeded his expectations. So, by refusing their current offer; Bobby set his own price, in the range of four hundred thousand dollars.

The company of the new cement plant was in outrage so they had gone around purchasing Mr. Chapman’s property, zoned the surrounding area, and purchased that instead. Approved, the production of the cement plant began laying the ground and was finished the following year. The entire structure of this place completely engulfed Bobby Chapman’s welding shop. The Zoning Commission and the town’s trustees approved the construction of the cement plant. Chapman had tried to appeal their decision but his efforts were of no avail.

For many years, Bobby had used the property as a way to reach his welding shop. The plans for the cement plant blocked that access. In addition, this caused Bobby frustration, engineered by this dispute he couldn’t fight it, he might as well work something out and try to build it.

It had been well past a month since Bobby had spoken with Ron about building his road. And just as Bobby assumed, he had heard no word at all, from anyone. Because he had done his part and patiently waited for a single yes or no answer. It had become apparent to him that it was his land and he should be able to do whatever he wished. So, without any further hesitation, he began his own zoning and his own construction of the small entrance road to his shop.

A friend of Ron’s just so happened to be driving by that day when he spotted Bobby’s dozer digging into the earth. This is it, he thought. Bobby’s finally finished and peeled ass around on the main drag of Hatherton falls, in the process almost clipping a car coming the opposite way and causing another car to run up onto the sidewalk, just about tagging some innocent pedestrians. Horns were blazing and people cursing at the maniac who was soon to cause an enormous ripple in their fair community’s future.

The man in the car, a short fat man with a balding head, watched the chaos among the people from his rear-view mirror with a certain annoying smirk. No doubt in his mind did he care, let alone feel even a bit remorseful of his subsequent actions taking place only moments ago.

The short fat man finally reached the town office, quicker than he anticipated; he swerved to the curb in front of the building and came to a screeching halt. Exiting the car, he seemed as if he were a child being taken to a candy store to spend his hard-earned allowance. He rushed in through the door, headed straight down the hallway (stomping the carpeted floor like an elephant in heat), and directly through the door of Ron’s office. Once inside he was suddenly stricken with disappointment seeing Ron had been on the phone. Then mouthed he needed to speak with him, as Ron then motioned him to come in with his one free hand. He carefully shut the door behind him and then silently tried struggling his fat ass in one of Ron’s chairs. With no such luck (as for probably the hundredth time), he decided to stand and wait.

A few moments had passed before Ron finally got off the phone. To Ron, it had been a normal ten-minute phone conversation, but to the fat man, it seemed to take an eternity.

Jim Phelps. Ron stood from his chair, greeting him with a welcome handshake. What brings you to my neck of the woods?

Jim Phelps (the fat man), stomped his way to the desk.

Ron, do I have some news for you. Jim said exactly and shook Ron’s hand with his fat stubby sausages he called fingers. It was almost like shaking hands with a fucking Carny; even Ron had a tough time with it.

All right, well take a seat, and let’s hear it.

Jim was about to take him up on his offer when he happened to remember only minutes ago that the arms of the chair; were entirely too close together.

No… I’m… quite all right. I’ll stand.

Suit yourself. Ron said leaning onto his desk.

You had a certain issue involving a local resident about a zoning dispute a while back… am I correct? Jim spoke fluently as if to make a very important proposal.

Mr. Chapman. Bobby Chapman. Yes, that’s correct. Ron sat back in his leather chair bringing his hands up behind his head and crossing his fingers, laughing as if he had just cheated in a game of chess. Yeah, that idiot will be waiting for an answer alright. Till hell freezes over, that’s all I got to say.

The room fell instantly silent for a moment, a facial expression upon Jim’s face revealed that of a cold smile. Placing both palms of his hands upon Ron’s desk he knelt a little closer to Ron, and spoke Then I’m pretty sure hell has just frozen over, or at least it’s going too. Then he laughed a certain evil under his breath.

Immediately Ron’s expression went from smiling to pure anger in about one point two seconds. His right hand shot instantly for the phone, picked up the receiver, and dialed nine for the Sheriff’s office.

Sheriff’s office please. Ron covered the mouthpiece with the palm of his hand and spoke to Jim who had now been at the other end of the office.

Jim.

Sheriff Brackett, can you hold for a moment please?

Ron covered the mouthpiece once again.

Jim, he’s doing this at this moment?

As we speak Ron.

And as Jim listened to the conversation between Ron and Sheriff Brackett he was filled with glee.

When the conversation had finished, Ron slammed the receiver back into the cradle. He stood from his seat and walked to the office door without a word. Jim knew for certain that Ron had been furious and kept his thoughts to himself. Ron pulled the door open and exited his office as Jim followed from behind.

Just as they had exited the door from the town hall building; the Sheriff’s car, along with two other deputies pulled in behind Jim’s car. Ron knelt to the level of Brackett’s passenger window, just as Brackett electronically rolled it down.

You ready for this Sheriff? Ron asked.

It’s about time you’re putting your foot down Ron.

OK, I’ll ride with you Jim, you follow.

Just then Jim’s eyes opened as wide as basketballs, he had no intention of riding along with this brigade. As Ron stood from his knees, Jim was right there at his face his fat belly almost touching Ron’s.

Let’s go, Jim, Ron demanded.

Jim shook his head left to right and said, No.

What do you mean no? You’re the one who rushed over here to tell me.

Jim could sense a slight irritation in his voice.

Just get in your car and drive me over there, you’re goddamn goin’!

Jim couldn’t believe the way Ron had just spoken to him and was about to say something when Ron literally pushed him out of the way and proceeded to walk to Jim’s car. Jim shook his fat head. He had no choice but to follow at this point, he wished he would have never squealed in the first place. The both of them were in the car now; Jim turned the ignition over as the engine roared to life. He slammed the gear shift into drive and sped off as the three squad cars followed his lead.

Meanwhile, Bobby had already made a mess of things on his lot with the dozer. And as it just so happened, Bobby glanced out his side window to see three police cars following a regular civilian car he did not recognize. Killing the dozer, he sat in his seat watching the four cars drive to the north side of the cement plant and then drive into his lot. The civilian car parked in a random spot but as for the police cars. They were trained in a specific way that entailed them blocking only exits the with least amount of force.

Well, now what the hell’s goin’ on here? Bobby thought to himself. Peering out from the glass window where he sat, he watched as the driver of the civilian vehicle stepped out. A rather fat man. Bobby almost laughed as he thought of this fat man wearing blue and white striped swimming trunks, sitting halfway up his enormous belly. Bobby was for certain this man doesn’t get to the beach much, but if he did.

Then God helps us…

As for the second passenger of this parade who stepped out from the other side, Bobby’s eyes suddenly became furious.

Why you… son-ova-bitch. And with great force, Bobby flung open the door from inside the cab and stormed out.

Ron stopped for a moment as he was about to close his door. When he heard the bulldozer’s door smack against the rest of the machine, making that steel clang hard against itself. The Sheriff and the other two officers immediately exited their vehicles and almost simultaneously the two sorry excuses for police officers unbuckled their gun straps.

Easy boys, Brackett said.

Bobby had started his way over toward them as Jim began to laugh a little under his breath at the clothing features Bobby had been wearing: A dirty old welder’s hat (that looked like it had been through years of grueling abuse), black-rimmed spectacles that seemed as if they were made from the design of bottle caps. And lastly were the man’s oil-ridden overalls. Jim swore he could smell the grease from where they had been standing; Sheriff Brackett just so happened to glance over and witness Jim laughing to himself and simply asked what was so funny.

Jim replied, Because, just look at the man, he’s pathetic.

At that moment, the two other officers were gazing upon Jim’s outfit, finding it just as ridiculous. Wearing oversized dress pants, a bright pink button-up shirt that would hardly tuck in due to his weight, and Sonoma brown dress shoes.

His clothing attire, glasses, that ridiculous hat. Jim pointed out.

Yeah, keep laughing tubs—

Jim instantly stopped laughing and looked out at Brackett. Excuse me! What did you refer to me as?

I’m just sayin’ it like it is. You better not be passing any judgment upon people till you’ve had yourself. Your own look in the mirror. Brackett spoke with slight perseverance about him. Jim stood quiet at that point; he had obviously been put in his place by a higher opinion than his.

Ron said nothing for the duration of their wait. Instead, he stood stern and hard like a statue until it was the right time to let the lion out of its cage.

Well, it’s about GODDAMN time you come to see me. Bobby exclaimed stopping short of their small posse by at least ten feet. Sheriff Brackett. Bobby spoke