SVP's Little Black Book of Terror: An Anthology Benefitting SAVE: Suicide Awareness Voices of Education

By S VP, Anthanasia Jones, Naching Kassa and 11 more

One day, horror writer Steven Van Patten decided to do something nice for a change. So, he called some friends and asked them to donate stories for a good cause. Some of the selections were previously published, others brand spanking new.

Then, together with editor Candance Nola, SVP curated and published this very book, featuring some real greats in the horror spec fiction game.

Your contributors are:

Marc Abbott- Rashid Darden- Patrick Frievald- Teel James Glenn- Kirk A. Johnson- Anthanasia Jones- Naching T. Kassa- Nicole Givens Kurtz- Gordon Linzer- Robert Masterson- F.R. Michaels – Tonia Ransom - Denise Tapscott- Steven Van Patten

All proceeds from the sales of this book will go to Suicide Awareness Voices of Education aka SAVE.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988854005

Book preview

1

A Seed

BY ANTHANASIA JONES

A seed.

We are planted and sprouted into a world of the unknown.

Nurtured and loved.

Roots expanding in search of fresh soil.

To be replanted and plotted in a garden full of opportunity.

We sprout and we grow.

We keep a strong stem, as we lose a leaf or two.

We keep strong through the seasons and bloom so beautifully when it is our

time.

We know not what our purpose is, but we exude major qualities.

So many reasons to breathe, to smile, and find reason in our journey, although

it is not forever.

We allow the wind to carry us, the sun to illuminate us, and the earth to cherish

us.

It is without question; no travel is the same.

Although it is difficult, the destination is always breathtaking.

Moment by moment, we become ground.

Leaving behind enriched soil and secured roots.

A flower.

2

Siren's Song

BY NICOLE GIVENS KURTZ

YOU EVER WANNA JUST walk into traffic?

Katrina cut her eyes over to me. Beneath the fall of her curly bangs, she sucked her teeth. No.

You seriously don’t hear their song as they go rushing by? It was definitely a song, not the harsh blaring of horns and rude honks. No, it was lyrical and enchanting.

Katrina adjusted her collar against the cold winter wind. Nuh uh. What does it sound like?

We started walking down the sidewalk along 12th Avenue.

I shuffle closer to her and recite the lines as fast as I can. It’s cold and I don’t want the next group of pedestrians to interrupt me.

"It goes like this:

Come play with us,

It’ll be fun.

Come play with us,

You’ll be done.

Come play with us,

It’ll be fine!

Come play with us,

Then you’ll die."

Katrina shoved her gloved hands into her coat pockets and glared at me, mouth agape.

You’re not right up there, Mimi. She tapped her temple.

I gave a half-hearted smile, taking it as a joke, because I hope she meant it as a joke. Yeah, I know.

The flat tone alarmed Katrina despite my efforts to give positive verbal cues. She grabbed my arm, spun me around, and with the distance between her artful eyebrows wrinkling, said, You’re serious. You really hear that?

The false smile pulled tight on my lips. No, girl. ‘Course not. That’s crazy.

She searched my face, her gaze roaming all over me like a thousand ants. I kept the smile in place until she relaxed. The bunched-up skin on her forehead smoothed.

Okay. Let’s get some food. A good bowl of pho will chase off the chills, Katrina said, pulling my arm as she marched ahead.

I didn’t want to get anything into me, but I allowed myself to be towed to the Vietnamese bistro on the corner. The cold helped me keep my face blank even though the aroma of rich beef broth was delicious. How could I explain that what I wanted was to get something out?

We came to the intersection of 12th Avenue and Vine Drive. Pho Ngon sat glowing with illuminated lights and heated dining area, beckoning for us to enter. I turned to follow Katrina into the open door when I stopped.

I looked back to the street and the whispering that brushed my ears grew louder.

"Come play with us,

It’ll be fun.

Come play with us,

You’ll be done.

Come play with us,

It’ll be fine!

Come play with us,

Then you’ll die."

My heart raced and my feet refused to move forward into the restaurant. A prick of cold, more frigid than the winter temperature, rippled from my head to my booted feet, making me shiver. I let the door go, and I heard it faintly click shut.

Ahead, the traffic light changed, and this stream of cars bolted through the intersection, singing their song loudly and extending their smear of colors and solace out toward me.

3

Ascension

BY KIRK A. JOHNSON

I AM VERY OPPOSED to this. Never has one of such tender years requested this most solemn of rites, Master Dramane argued.

Jasseh turned to Master Kakat, wondering when the old man would speak. It had been hours since they heard his petition, and the debate still echoed throughout the depths of the remote mountain stronghold. He fought his eagerness to speak, to argue his position to this august assembly. But when one stands in the center of Jaidon’s Dome—the oldest halls within the belly of the mountain, used by all the elders of proper age and wisdom to debate and discuss the issues of the day—reverence must be given.

And when did age become a hindrance? When did it become a weighted stone used to keep us down in the dirt? An elder yelled from his seat.

Even Master Nyami waited till he was eighty and a hundred years! countered another.

The Divine hungers for wisdom! Age is no guarantee! cried another elder from across the circle of debating voices.

Master Kakat finally rose from his seat and hobbled down to the two men, his lower jaw grinding like a camel’s. Jasseh felt the pounding of his heart echo in his ears. The ancient mystic always looked like that when he was no longer in deep rumination and judgment was about to be passed. The votes were even, for and against his Ascension. Luckily for him, Master Dramane was his former teacher, so he could not vote. Master Kakat would have to decide the matter.

Master Dramane, would you deny that young Master Jasseh has accomplished some extraordinary feats? Master Kakat asked. Do you doubt that he truly understands what it means to Ascend? Why does his youth bother you so?

Most honored teacher, I’ve never been clouded by the accomplishments of my fellow adept, but—

Then, if you have no further objections, Master Kakat interrupted, turning to Jasseh and the twelve seated elders. At dawn, Master Jasseh will take the Rite of Ascension and become one with the All Wonder. His words echoed throughout Jaidon’s Dome, his judgment bouncing off the concave roof and encircling benches. He then resumed his grinding and hobbled out into an exit tunnel.

Jasseh turned to Master Dramane and gazed into the old man’s glaring eyes. He refused to hold back the smirk that crept across his lips. Master Dramane just walked away, shaking his head, followed by a procession of his dissenting brothers.

*

THE FOLLOWING DAY, JASSEH prepared for his Ascension with an herbal laxative. As part of the ceremony, it was given to him to facilitate the cleansing of both the soul and the body. And seeing that he was to remain clean after the evacuation of his bowels, he needed to be washed by Master Dramane, an expert in the practice of purity. Jasseh couldn’t help but take some pleasure when a wet fart escaped during Master Dramane’s duty. Then he would fast for the rest of the day, sitting in deep meditation before the final ritual.

Escorted from his chambers, he was taken to be shaven, bathed, and oiled. A slight tinge of regret pinched him as tufts of kinky hair floated to the ground. He didn’t doubt that Master Dramane took some pleasure in shaving away his once glorious crown of kinky hair. Many in the order took pride in maintaining this bit of vanity. But these were the sacrifices one made to join the Divine.

That evening, after being shaved clean of hair—from head to foot, orifice to dangle—washed and oiled with shea butter, Jasseh left his sleeping chambers for the last time and went to the Summit Hall to meet with Master Kakat. As custom dictated, the most senior of the Fourteen Elders of the Order would escort the petitioner to the Summit of Ascension. He wanted to skip through the hallway like a child in summer, but he couldn’t risk the possibility of being seen. Austerity was the word of the day.

You must be very excited, Master Kakat said, leading Jasseh up the winding cavern steps. To be youngest of the Order of the Wayward Wisdoms and not even one of the Fourteen to take the Rite of Ascension. Even I, many years your senior, would never dream of such a thing.

Jasseh allowed himself a tiny grin. There is no shame in guiding those with higher talents, he said.

Truth be told, he had demanded the Rite of Ascension. A high honor reserved for only the wisest of the Order, requested by those who believed it was time to leave this world and share with the Divine in heaven, as it is written. Jasseh believed it was now his time. He was born to do great things. And it was this idea of himself that pushed him. He’d read all the parchments of new knowledge and the tablets of old wisdom.

He worked the fields with recruits and solved puzzles that baffled the most ancient of minds. He recalled how he aided in unifying the feuding Zarman clans, averting a war that would have engulfed the entire Mbor continent. And to think, all it took was a giant Clawbeak egg, paint, and the translated text of Zarma’s first sorcerer. Why shouldn’t I share my wisdom with the gods?

Jasseh caught himself. Show humility. You honor me, teacher. I could never have achieved so much without your guidance, he said.

Master Kakat stopped and looked back at Jasseh. Your grasp of subtlety has increased my understanding of the world.

Jasseh looked up at his master and simply nodded.

The summit stairs were an endless spiral ascending towards a point of light barely seen from the bottom. Jasseh took this moment to reflect on his journey to this secluded valley.

He’d run away from home, believing—knowing—the pastoral life was for mediocrity; cattle herding was not for him. Moving from pasture to pasture, while cows, bulls, and calves mowed in the sun, was for the dull-minded. And he just knew the boring stories his cousins told would soon suffocate his keen mind. He remembered when he ran away north along the Binji River and then East into the barren Savage Lands beyond the Pillars of the Seven Simbon Lords.

He remembered the chilly nights hiding in fear of the abominations that stalked through the night and the blistering days when only a sip from his water bag was all he had to sustain himself until finally reaching the valley. The sight of high palm trees and verdant green surrounding a titanic mountain that rose beyond the clouds straight into the sky took his breath away.

How magnificent that this patch of life should hold fast within this no-man’s-land. And that I should make the Trek to the Monastery of The Wayward Wisdoms. They can do nothing less than accept me. The wonders I will do, he had said to himself.

*

THE SUMMIT OF ASCENSION was an ancient butte that sat atop the mountain, high above the clouds. Master Kakat and Jasseh arrived just as the sky turned red with the coming night and the sinking sun. Jasseh looked out into the grand expanse of soft, blanketing clouds. He turned, noticing twelve of the most ancient elders, after master Kakat, of course, wearing strangely grotesque masks shaped into unrecognizable creatures. All the masks were without eyes, with slits for mouths. To his right, he noticed large half-men covered in muddy-green hair with empty eye sockets, grunting their way to great gougoun skin drums and great bronze horns. Jasseh had never seen such tall, hulking things like them before, neither in his travels nor at the monastery.

Standing straight and chin up, Jasseh disrobed, revealing his shining naked body and head, while the sweet smell of shea butter delighted his nostrils. Master Kakat took him by the elbow and guided Jasseh through the gauntlet of bowing elders to the edge of a cliff.

Are you ready, Master Jasseh? Kakat asked, slipping on a small, eyeless mask.

Jasseh stretched out his arms and closed his eyes. The half-men banged on the stretched drum leather, and a heavy rhythm engulfed them; its steady beat filling the elders with deep booms, which melted into their hearts, pumping blood, and sound through their veins. Then the horns blew, filling the air with dire bellows, giving their spirits the most melodious of sounds to devour. A tune meant for the gods.

Call the Divine to me. Let me take my place amongst them. I am ready, Master Kakat.

A throaty hum vibrated from the elders, adding to the now somber music of the Divines. The anticipation swelled within Jasseh’s heart. His eyelids quivered, and his lips went dry. He wondered what would happen if he peeked—just a little.

He squinted his eyes ever so slightly to see a dark speck—a magnificent bird—dive out of the clouds a thousand leagues before him. It leveled off just under the clouds and glided at a leisurely speed towards the summit. He shut his eyes again as sweat glistened over his head.

They have answered the call, Master Kakat whispered.

Jasseh trembled. He took a deep breath to quiet himself. Puffing out his chest and raising his chin even higher, he gently lifted his eyelids.

It was below him, skirting the base and rising along the cliff towards Jasseh’s curling feet. Jasseh craned his neck to get a better look. Enormous brown eagle feathers covered its wings, but it was not an eagle. A serpent-like tail whipped about behind it. The head and snout were a mass of slimy, loose flesh while tentacles wriggled around its lips. It opened its mouth and flashed rows of bone-white teeth spiraling down its throat. Hot air rushed out of its opened maw, and a trickle of piss ran down Jasseh’s trembling leg.

No, wait…, he whimpered.

That’s when Master Kakat poked him over the cliff and into its mouth.

The creature flew into the air, whooshing past the assembled elders, and vanished far beyond into the emerging stars.

The music abruptly stopped, and the beast-men made their way back into some unseen burrow at the summit’s edge. Master Dramane approached Master Kakat, removing his mask as the Divine disappeared into the velvet-black evening.

As it is written in the Dictums of Truth, ‘the world is too fragile a place to shoulder such… greatness’. And the gods must feed, he said, shaking his head.

So true. So true, replied Master Kakat. It’s a shame he misunderstood the subtleties of nourishment. All things feed. Do they not?

4

Grey Eyes and The Otherwise Evicted Hunter

BY STEVEN VAN PATTEN

PRINCE GREY EYES ROTATED the stem of the wineglass slowly between his index and pinky fingers. A mix of human blood and Montepulciano, an idea that on the surface was questionable, but turned out to be a great mix. He took a sip, letting the dark red liquid comfort his throat. He closed his eyes. He could feel them coming.

Juliya and Timothy were two of his royal guards. They’d been with him so long that he’d forgotten how or where he’d acquired them. An orphanage in Vienna? No, that’s not it. Besides, she’s Russian, and he’s Puerto Rican. Where else would one find that combo except here in America?

Because of the human’s pandemic, the restaurant was empty and dimly lit, so as not to draw attention from any ambitious policemen. Only the Dark Ones knew the restaurant was open.

They came to the table but did not speak. They waited to be recognized.

You two feel as if you are in some distress, he finally said.

They glanced at each other, as if they were each were trying to signal the other to speak first. Finally, Juliya sighed. Sire, it’s your brother. Casper.

You found him? Grey Eyes, who had still been staring at the wine, finally shifted his eyes.

Yes, Juliya said. He’s… dead.

Final death? Grey Eyes asked.

Timothy found his voice. Yes. His heart had been punctured for far too long before he was found.

Clan Molossus? he asked. They finally turned on him?

Juliya shook her head. They do not appear to be responsible.

Are we at war with another clan? Grey Eyes asked.

It was a random human, Timothy answered. That is what the intel says at any event.

His eyes widened. You’re telling me that a human killed my brother? My five-hundred- and six-year-old brother!

Our guess is he knew we were looking for him and had started hunting in the daytime. Juliya’s voice quivered. And some hunter caught him.

Grey Eye’s pupils turned red. Where?!

Brooklyn, Timothy whispered.

The answer struck the vampire prince as odd. Clan Molossus mostly operated out of the Bronx. The Vespertillo controlled Brooklyn, while his Clan Macrotus controlled most of Manhattan. Surely, even if Casper were selecting someone to kill in broad daylight, he could have stayed in The Bronx with his new friends. Unless he had a falling out with Molossus.

Do we have an address?

Timothy hurriedly produced a slip of paper from his front leather pants pocket and held it out to Grey Eyes. Sire, that’s my only copy. I was hoping you would let us…

No one avenges my brother, Grey Eyes snapped. No one but me. Am I clear?

Under his angry glare, they each squirmed where they stood. Yes, Sire!

He turned back to the wineglass. You may go.

The two underlings bowed and made their way to the restaurant’s back exit, their retreating boots beating a rhythm on the hardwood floor.

Even before his other senses could identify the leather clad woman who entered the room, he knew his wife had entered. The only other vampire who was neither fearful of him, nor only there to rule by him. My love, I am so sorry.

From his chair, he glanced up at her and gave a weak smile. You can’t be that sorry. You hated him.

Because he betrayed you.

Priscilla, neither one of us was completely innocent. You know that.

He joined Molossus against you, she hissed. Because he couldn’t be prince.

He’s technically older. He shook his head at the rehashing of this old argument.

But you are the leader, Priscilla said. Your parents—wisely so—put you in front because despite all of his gifts, he was a reckless man-child, and you are the monarch meant to rule. Politician, warrior, diplomat, strategist. You have all of these skills, and you don’t wield any of them like an angry infant. Her face had grown stern during her diatribe, but softened as she reached down and stroked the curls in his hair. Now that she was done presenting cold, hard facts, she could be the loving guide to a sensible decision. Let this issue rest, at least until the Molossus Clan is defeated. Then, you can tear Brooklyn asunder, killing this human if you like.

He sat back in the wooden chair and sighed. You are right, of course.

When he wouldn’t look at her, she knew that he wasn’t happy. In time, she would ease him with sweet words and carnal pleasures, but she knew him well enough to know that now was the time to let him mourn in silence. Priscilla leaned in and kissed him on the forehead and stroked his head one more time as she turned and walked out. She knew that even after a few hundred years, he wouldn’t want to cry in front of her, even if he probably needed to.

As the restaurant doors closed, the prince’s grey eyes watered as he finished his wine, then threw the glass across the empty restaurant and screamed.

Bring me the witch!

*

ESMERELDA’S RELATIONSHIP WITH CLAN Macrotus began with what some would call a ‘happy accident.’ Grey Eye’s soldier Juliya was out hunting one night in the same lower East Side of Manhattan heavy metal bar where Esmerelda worked as a go-go dancer. Admittedly, that’s a thing that you didn’t see any more in New York outside of places frequented by burly Metallica fans. After a night of G-string pulls and butt-pinching, Esmerelda went out for a smoke. Juliya, a bisexual, liked Esmerelda for more than just food. She introduced herself with the plan to seduce Esmerelda and get herself invited to the dancer’s apartment. There, she’d give her the time of her life, but draw some blood before leaving.

Esmerelda had never been with a woman before, but her most recent shifts at ‘Three Of Spades’ had taken just enough of a toll on her view of men that she was open to at least discussing sex with Juliya at her place.

Unfortunately for Juliya, Esmerelda’s apartment was enchanted. Even with the invite into the apartment, Juliya was suddenly nauseous and feverish once she crossed the apartment’s threshold.

Esmerelda knew to reexamine Juliya right away. Hey! What the fuck are you up to?

And that’s when Juliya passed out. When she awoke, Esmerelda had used Christmas lights to tie her to the bed. Are you going to plug them in, at least? Juliya joked as she realized what had happened. Then she tried to use her vampire’s strength to break free and failed.

"I put a