The Riverside Chronicles

By Raz T. Slasher

Riverside, Ohio isn't your average small town. If I can be candid for a moment, (and I will be, because I like turtles) it's a weird fucking place. I've lived here since 1982 and I'll probably die here some day. In that time, I've seen the funniest shit you can imagine. I've also seen things so terrifying that even imagining them would cause you irreparable mental trauma. It's a mixed bag, but it's home.

Maybe you think you live in a weird small town, and maybe you do, but let me assure you that it has nothing on Riverside. It's not just all the missing posters and weird disappearances either. Nor is it all just the bodies of victims or the survivors of that which dwells here. Let me take it a step further for the guy who isn't sure if he wants to keep reading this or not…

If you've never seen a woman stabbed by a killer mime and an imaginary friend out for blood, in person, on the same day… Well, this may not be the book for you. Hell, maybe it is. I don't know your life…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fae Corps Publishing
• Release date: May 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215827765

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Copyright © 2023 Raz T. Slasher

Publisher Fae Corps LLC

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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 noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

Fae Corps LLC

5415 Raven Dr

Charleston WV 25306

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, to my brother, Ryan Jenkins. You’ve been gone a long time now, but so much of you still lives on. Not just in me, or my stories, but in your amazing children. I’ll always be here for them as I was for you.

To my haunt family at Hell’s Dungeon, Scurryface, and everyone that participated in the Scare Actor Spectacular in 2023. You continue to inspire me every day. Your kindness, combined knowledge, and willingness to help others is unparalleled. My time with you thus far has led to some of the greatest creative partnerships I’ve ever had the honor of partaking in.

To my podcasting family at PBDC (Psycho Bunny Death Cult). Akka, Corbin, Frank, Mikey, Nat, Piper and Steve (Del too, but we’ll get to her in a moment). You guys have been a breath of fresh air in all the best ways possible. We crossed paths at a tough time in my life, but you’ve always been willing to lend a guiding hand. Your love and patience is deeply appreciated. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for our little broadcasting family!

To Jenny Elliott, her husband Josh, and their amazing children, Cassie, Sophia and Dante. Your kindness came at a time when I desperately needed it. Thank you so much for everything you do for me. You’ve definitely brought a lot of much needed order to my chaos. Here’s to a brighter future for all of us!

To Jessica Sellers Carver, friend and teacher extraordinaire. Although life can’t always be Matchbox 20 and Tamagotchis, those memories will stay with me for a lifetime. You’ve taught me more about myself and the world around me than anyone I’ve ever known. Your students are lucky to have you. Say hello to your father for me!

To Del, my spiritual twin. The Fred to my George. You’re the angel on my right and the devil on my left. You’ve been there for me through some of the darkest times in my life, and you’re the only person who knows where all the bodies are buried. We may be Cryptid Cripples, but together we are a force to be reckoned with!

To my wife, Michelle. We’ve survived tornadoes, pandemics, hotels, and teenagers together. Life has never been easy for us, but we’ve always made the best of it. No matter what the future brings, I hope we will always face it together.

To my daughter, B-Rad. Just hear me out. Being a dad has been the greatest experience of my life; hardships included. Now that you’ve graduated and become an adult, you have a lot of tough decisions ahead of you. You won’t always make the right decisions, but you can choose to learn from the bad ones. When it’s -13 and shit hits the fan, just make sure your socks aren’t on fire.

To Matthew Propes, my future son in law. You’ve been like a son to me since the day I met you, and it’s been such an honor to watch you become a man. Your inquisitiveness and passion is a constant source of amazement and inspiration to me. I can’t imagine anyone not being proud of the person you’ve become. No matter what life has in store for us, or where our paths may lead, we’ll always have Tuesdays!

And finally, to Patti, from Fae Corps Publishing, for whom none of this would have been possible. You’ve been unbelievably patient with me and the chaos my life has become as of late, and I’ll never be able to express how much that has meant to me. Over the time we’ve been working together we’ve become more than business partners. We’ve become family.

Dear Reader,

Riverside, Ohio isn’t your average small town. If I can be candid for a moment, (and I will be, because I like turtles) it’s a weird fucking place. I’ve lived here since 1982 and I’ll probably die here some day. In that time, I’ve seen the funniest shit you can imagine. I’ve also seen things so terrifying that even imagining them would cause you irreparable mental trauma. It’s a mixed bag, but it’s home.

Maybe you think you live in a weird small town, and maybe you do, but let me assure you that it has nothing on Riverside. It’s not just all the missing posters and weird disappearances either. Nor is it all just the bodies of victims or the survivors of that which dwells here. Let me take it a step further for the guy who isn’t sure if he wants to keep reading this or not…

If you’ve never seen a woman stabbed by a killer mime and an imaginary friend out for blood, in person, on the same day… Well, this may not be the book for you. Hell, maybe it is. I don’t know your life…

Still reading? Fantastic! Now, let me explain what this whole thing is about. I’m a historian of sorts. Basically, that means I’ve been collecting stories from all over Riverside for most of my life. Until now, I’ve released a novel and a lot of little stories from my ever-growing database of small town fuckery. Surprise! All of them are true, and all of them happened right here in Riverside.

It’s important to point out that while some of these things happened to me personally, many of these events have been related to me by survivors and first-hand witnesses. Each of them agreed to undergo an extensive interview process with me to properly capture the series of events in the most accurate way possible..

If this still sounds like the book you’re looking for, may Cthulhu bless your tainted soul! You can officially consider me your tour guide to the strange and macabre events that are constantly unfolding here in my hometown (and if you look to your left you’ll see a Jamba Juice!). Who knows, these stories just may save your life someday.

Yours in Madness,

Raz T. Slasher.

This is a labor of love. Any similarity to grammatical errors, real or imagined, or actual typos, is purely coincidental.

Story Guide

Mr. Jones and Me

The Homeless Crisis

Jimmy’s Toys

It Pulls The Fibers

The Mirror Man

The Stars Were Wrong

The Real Pinball Wizard

A Modern Ghost Story

Dashing story

Can You Hear The Voices

The Cabin

There’s Something Different About Her

Lost Creek

Mr Jones and Me

I suppose I grew up in much the same way most kids do, but with one major difference. We'll get to that a little later. I was an only child raised by a single mom, never really knew who my father was. Mom didn't really talk about it and I felt weird asking too many questions. She always did the best she could for me, and mostly I had it pretty good. She'd see me off to school every morning before heading into work, and after school I'd spend time at my best friend's house down the street until she came and got me.

My best friend's name was Ryan, and together we went on many adventures. Our parents said we had the most overactive imaginations they'd ever seen, and often scoffed at all our crazy stories. We spent most of our time playing out in the woods at our secret tree fort we'd built some years ago. It was our haven, our home away from home.

It was a Friday after school that Ryan came up with the greatest idea I'd ever heard. He wanted to camp out at our fort overnight! We lived in a small town where nothing bad ever really happened. It was one of those places where everyone knew each other. People looked out for one another back then, and half the time no one even bothered locking their doors. We ran the idea by our parents, and to our profound excitement, got the green light. We spent the next hour grabbing everything we'd need to stay the night at our fort, which included a decent haul of snacks we pilfered from our collective kitchens.

It turned out to be a beautiful night. We'd never been able to stay so late at the fort before and it was exciting. We started it all off with the customary ghost stories told by flashlight, and once we got ourselves all good and worked up, we decided it was time to do some exploring. It was the moment we had been most looking forward to. The woods were more alive at night somehow, as if powered by some magical force that our minds had conjured up. We left the safety of our fort and slipped into the growing darkness between the trees. Every sound had us on edge, our flashlights dancing around like an epilepsy inducing light show. That didn't stop us though, and we continued until we hit some unfamiliar territory. We'd never gone this far before during the day and weren't sure what to expect. We stopped when we came across a small ramshackle of a cottage just sitting there amidst the overgrowth. We did what every curious kid would do in that situation, get inside.

It was easy enough with no lock to speak of. The door creaked and moaned as we forced it open. Our flashlights swept from left to right, illuminating the meager furnishings within. It was just one giant room with a bed against a far wall and a rocking chair with a small table and an oil burning lamp in the middle. There was even an old wood-burning stove in the far-left corner that looked in decent working shape. The entire shack seemed eerily clean for a place that looked so abandoned from the outside. I suddenly felt very nervous and glanced over at Ryan for some support.

Who do you think lives here? I asked with some trepidation. I wasn't sure I really wanted to know the answer. He cast a side glance at me, and I saw the same anxiety stretch over his darkened features. He forced a reply though, trying to be brave.

I can't imagine anyone could live out here. It's probably just one of those little hunting shacks.

I nodded and convinced myself he had to be right. When you're a kid, it's so easy to dismiss danger sometimes. Even when you shouldn't. We claimed the place for ourselves after a little more conversation. We thought it would be a much better place to stay the night, and not that much further out than our fort was. It wasn't as if our parents were going to know the difference, anyway. The worst thing that could happen would be some hunter showing up and shooing us away, no harm no foul. Our excitement grew by leaps and bounds as we made the round trip to get our stuff from the fort and head back to the shack. Our explorations had provided us with the ultimate find and we were getting a little tired. We stretched our sleeping bags out on the big bed; it seemed so comfortable. We had our snacks and told a few more stories before eventually falling asleep.

It had to have been the middle of the night when some strange noise woke me up. It sounded like someone was clearing their throat so the first thing I did was look over at Ryan. Finding him still asleep I turned on my flashlight and shined it around the room. I heard that throat clearing noise again, but this time a voice followed it; much closer than I expected. Its tones were strangely soothing as it spoke.

Hey kid, down here.

In that moment I did the dumbest thing I've ever