Willow Blue

By Edward McMullen, Jr

"Creepy Collection"
- Jeffrey Reddick, creator of FINAL DESTINATION

Author E.C. McMullen Jr.'s
WILLOW BLUE and Other Stories
A Collection of Seven critically acclaimed Horror Thriller tales of Weird Sex, True Love, Monsters, and Mayhem featuring:
WILLOW BLUE,
MILK and COOKIES,
INTIMACY,
THE NAMES OF PAIN,
PRESENT TENSE,
RATTLESNAKE TIE, and
STEVEN'S MOTHER

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edward McMullen, Jr
• Release date: Aug 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215227022

Edward McMullen, Jr

Artist, Musician, former Stand-up comic, Writer, and creator of Feo Amante's Horror Thriller, E.C. McMullen Jr. currently works in movies and has three feature films with expected releases in 2012: The Sorrow, Mine Games, and How Hard Can It Be?Known as Eddie or Feo to his friends, McMullen is working on his current Screenplay.

Book preview

Willow Blue

E.C. McMullen Jr.

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Feo Studios

© 2014 by E.C. McMullen Jr. All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This collection titled, Willow Blue was first published in 2014. This 2023 edition published by Feo Studios

This current collection contains the following stories

Willow Blue © 2001 by E.C. McMullen Jr.

Milk and Cookies © 2006 by E.C. McMullen Jr.

Intimacy © 2004 by E.C. McMullen Jr.

The Names of Pain © 2001 by E.C. McMullen Jr.

Present Tense © 2012 by E.C. McMullen Jr.

Rattlesnake Tie © 1993 by E.C. McMullen Jr. First published in Biker Magazine, October, 1995

Steven's Mother © 2003 by E.C. McMullen Jr.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Visit the author's website at https://ecmjr.com/publish

Book cover art and design by E.C. McMullen Jr.

Cover fonts:

Another Typewriter, 1999 by John Holmdahl

Impact, 1965 by Geoffrey Lee

Arial Narrow, 1991 by The Monotype Corporation

Willow Blue, 2023 edition by E.C. McMullen Jr., was typeset using Atticus writing software

1. Horror – Fiction. 2. Supernatural – Fiction. 3. Thriller – Fiction

FIRST EDITION June, 14, 2023

Feo Studios is a multimedia publishing company and owns the publishing rights to this novel in all forms of media, by contract with the author. This novel is printed in electronic and printed form by those companies granted a non-exclusive agreement permitted by Feo Studios, llc to print this book. No printers for any reason and in any form have any right of ownership to this work. Feo Studios protects this work on behalf of the creator and copyright owner, E.C. McMullen Jr.

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Dedicated to my traveling companion and loving wife,

Luz

Contents

1.Willow Blue

2.Milk and Cookies

3.Intimacy

4.The Names of Pain

5.Present Tense

6.Rattlesnake Tie

7.Steven's Mother

About the Author

Willow Blue

1. Accident

Willow Blue walks with her face to the wild wind because she likes it. The rough caress, whip, and whorl of the invisible, lapping at her skin.

Behind her owlish glasses, Willow's mirror blue eyes are closed to eyelash filtered slits against the rush of air.

The others who walk with her battle the wind, their heads down, ploughing forward, taking no pleasure from it.

They worry that something painful will blow into their eyes.

This day's pleasure is for Willow's peculiar, personal joys alone.

In a dash of spirit, Willow pulls her knit cap away and unleashes her long, dishwater blond hair. The strands stream out and balloon to the will of the wind, riding the wild waves. Leaves and debris blow past and catch in her many tendrils. It will require painstaking patience, back at the commune tonight, to get it all out.

Kuell won't mind. Jakob Kuell enjoys every opportunity to touch his Willow Blue. Even if it's just to brush her hair, wash it, and explore it.

Willow's love of a windy day wind matches the desired touch of her little lover, Kuell.

Willow smiles, nearly chuckles, against the breeze knowing that, if the days entangled catch meant cutting it all off tonight, Kuell wouldn't mind that either. She knows her hair is only an excuse for her little lover. Someday – not today – she will let him know that he doesn't need an excuse: his touch and his alone, is forever welcome.

So the same wind that plays with Willow torments the small group of friends. Lyle, big and rugged in body if not in spirit, says,

Fuck this wind, man! Die the fuck down, already!

Willow doesn't wish for the death of the wind as it happily leaps about her, puppy jumping at her body and into her heart. In a passing fancy, she would throw herself into the hurricane if the wind would claim her as one of its own.

Heaven is riding the maelstrom forever!

Willow turns her head to look behind them. Her hair waves fresh as cotton bed sheets in the breeze, framing her view so that she looks down a tunnel of hair.

Deena and Kirstie are right behind, each carrying a large box of bread for the commune. Their bodies lean in, their heads bent. Little Rall, Kirstie's son, walks behind the both of them, carrying the bigger, heavier box of caned food. Lyle should be carrying such a heavy box, but Rall took it upon himself: Only ten and trying to be a man.

Behind Rall, far in the distance and growing tinier with each step, is their broke down car. It's a reliable heap and always treats them well, but a sudden gust of wind caught Lyle unprepared as he came off the bridge and around the corner a little faster than he should. Now the car is skewed into the road's shoulder, its face and front suspension in the ditch, the passenger side front tire hangs at a warped angle.

That was their adventure only moments earlier and the adrenalin of crash is still singing through Willow's nerves.

Willow anthropomorphizes the old car. She pets it whenever she walks past and calls it Agnes.

Willow keeps walking backwards around the bend, Watching Agnes get smaller with every step until finally the edge of the foothill they are walking around blocks her view.

For now they have to leave Agnes alone and get these groceries to the commune before this harbinger wind brings the storm it must surely be pulling behind it.

Willow looks up and sees a Harpy overhead. The bird is also flying against the wind and makes no headway. Its wing beats only keep it stationary. Willow watches as they gradually move from behind it, to even with it, to past it. The young bird sees them and screeches in frustration.

It cannot! Quite! Reach! That! Tree!

It could probably gain more ground by walking, but its gnarled, clawed feet evolved for grasping branches, not striding across the earth.

As they continue up the narrow road, the wind brings them the sound of another motor vehicle in distress. Willow recognizes the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Douglas's truck coming toward them from the opposite side of the bend.

As one, the group of friends align themselves, single file, along the farthest bank of the road. The truck comes barreling along around the curve and, though they are far enough out of harm's way, the city bred Mr. Douglas, with his wife, honks a warning all the same. The truck nearly rises up on two wheels as Mr. Douglas overcompensates his turn in the name of pedestrian safety.

Then it is beyond them.

Deena loudly wishes the Douglas would turn around and give them all a ride but the truck is too big, the road too narrow, and the pullover for turning is a kilometer back.

The group has about another kilometer ahead of them.

The squeal, not of tires on pavement, the road is dirt, but of brake pads biting into metal discs, heralds the next sound of metal crunching.

The sound makes them all stop.

Oh shit! yells Lyle.

Just perfect! grouses Kirstie.

Lyle is slack-jawed. At their present location, they can no longer see Agnes on account of the curve of the bend. The hillock they walk around blocks their view.

We've gotta go back, he says.

Aw man, Deena protests. They're probably not hurt. They just gotta walk now, same as us.

We wouldn't know if they were hurt or not, Lyle says. The wind blows their sound away from us.

We sure heard them hit our car! Deena argues.

That's a little louder than injured people calling for help, Deena.

Not if they are screaming.

Lyle stares for an unbelieving moment at Deena.

As always, Deena only thinks of herself and the day causes Lyle too much grief to engage in a pissing match with her. Their neighbors could be hurt.

Grief is Lyle's word for aggravation and nothing makes him angrier than when he is angry with himself. Crashing the car made him self-furious.

So instead of arguing with Deena, Lyle releases air from the moment.

I'm going back, he says. Does anyone want to come with me?

Willow nods, walks to the roadside, and carefully sets her box in the dry gully.

If it rains, the bread will get all wet in there, Rall warns.

Willow doesn't respond. The potential of saving lives outweighs the need for bread at this moment.

Lyle sets down his box of fruit as well.

Fine then! Deena huffs dramatically. So we're all going to starve!

Give it a rest, Deena, Kirstie says as she and Rall move up the road.

Well maybe I shouldn't carry my heavy box either! She shouts above the wind, but like Willow she carries only bread.

Kristie and Rall move onward to the house. Willow and Lyle walk back to the accident, but Deena stays in place having no one to perform for. Taking everyone's actions as a personal slight, she shouts her offense at this persecution. Everyone has gone about their business without her.

This is not the first time Deena's behaved this way, but only recently has the commune come to the point where they ignore her. Many at the commune are quietly, without confrontation, biding their time until commune's next House Council meeting when Deena will surely be voted out.

Being ignored by the group is new to Deena and she doesn't know how to react to it.

Out of Deena's range, and more to make noise than anything else, Lyle says, One good thing. I don't smell smoke.

With her hair still whipping in the wind, only now streaming in front of her face, Willows shrugs. 'The wind blows blows their sound away from us,' she thinks.

Lyle grunts, realizing this truth on his own and chuckles to himself, Of course, I guess we wouldn't.

The Commune has no leader, but Willow appreciates how Lyle took charge of the situation. It's who he is, always seeing to the safety of the Commune and their neighbors.

She watches how Lyle walks, leaning his large frame back into the wind with perfect posture, giving it as much volume as he can to let it do most of the work. He just has to swing one foot in front of the other. The term, 'Big Lug' comes to Willow's mind and it is a kind one.

Willow digs in her coat pocket for her knit cap. Then decides to just walk backwards so she can still feel the wind on her face.

Bad move.

Now she faces the distant Deena again, which catches the woman's attention.

Deena sees the dumb girl walking backwards and thinks she is specifically looking at her, mocking her. Deena theatrically bundles her hands into fists and screams maniacally – as if her display will bring everyone running back.

The wind carries her scream to them.

Willow is close enough to Lyle to hear him say, Christ, what a stupid bitch! and in a snap, Willow hates Deena.

She hates the fact that Deena deserves the name. That her childish brat behavior – at the age of 27 and a Mother – keeps that ugly epithet in the mind of every man she meets. All of the other women at the commune are entirely self-sufficient.

In her first week, Deena put on a good show of being inexperienced but willing to learn.

She was a bit too happy, a bit too chatty, but such quirkiness charmed the group and she seemed genuinely interested in all of them. She listened. Her way put people at ease and in private moments, many shared personal things with her, often a tiny bit too much.

By the second week, Deena moved from inexperienced to the clumsy naif of the commune. She tried so hard yet she seemed just a tad too dim to learn most things, messing up the simplest of tasks until someone else had to do it to get it done.

At the same time, out of