Not From Around Here The Complete Collection: Not From Around Here

By J.S. Zuczek

The Not From Around Here collection of short stories features supernatural elements from our deepest imaginations. Here we see a young man's fascination with a sea creature ("Walk With Me"); a real estate agent's open house that attracts blood thirsty buyers ("The Final Showing"); a magical comet that helps police find a missing boy ("The Comet"); a set of four bunkers whose inhabitants are not what they appear ("The Bunkers"); a war veteran who joins a covert team that creates fake government conspiracies ("Supernatural For Hire"); a science fiction enthusiast who has a run in with aliens ("Nice to Meet You"); and a world where everyone is born with transparent skin ("True Colors"). (approx. 31,000 words)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeffrey Zuczek
• Release date: May 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224932245

J.S. Zuczek

Jeff presently resides in South Florida with his wife, Chantal, and their two daughters. He is a new author who enjoys writing in his spare time. His dream is to one day be published and have his novel available in a library for his daughters and others to enjoy. Please leave a shout out on my Instagram page below, and also join my Author page mailing list! Instagram @WriterDad_Jeff https://books2read.com/JeffreyZuczek

Book preview

Foreword

Dear Reader,

Thank you for embarking on this short story journey. I hope it will bring you back to the days of sitting in front of the TV and watching black and white horror movies or Twilight Zone episodes.

While writing this collection, I was often asked the same question by family, friends, and coworkers along the way: Why are you writing short stories, Jeff?

Until now, I had focused on full length novels, like PANDEMIC DAD and the RED VIOLET series. This was out of character for me as a writer. Yet each time this question arose, I never knew why it was being asked. Perhaps, my efforts were being viewed as primitive in a world today saturated with long book series. Or maybe, short stories were viewed more as a young adult or kid genre. Either way, my response was always the same – and it always surprised the questioner. I’d look squarely back, smile, and reply: "I chose short stories because people don’t read books anymore."

At first, my response would stun the individual. Even a few huffs and puffs would transpire. But eventually, they would allow my response to sink in – to churn for a little bit more. Finally, they would realize that I was being honest, not sarcastic, and that there was some truth to it. Most of them would even agree that they couldn’t recall the last time they read a book. And even if they did decide to read a new book, they’d prefer an audio book so they could do other things at the same time. Eventually, they realized that if they did commit the time to actively read something, their preference would be a short story rather than a long, drawn-out book.

After writing my first book, PANDEMIC DAD, I realized this fact. People are so busy these days that they want something quick – often a few minutes or less to entertain themselves. Whether it’s a quick feed on social media, a video post from their friends, or the latest phone app game, they want to fit it into their airtight schedules and feel like they accomplished something. The feedback I received after writing PANDEMIC DAD was my first glimpse into this. For the few individuals that read it, the common response was how much they enjoyed the short sections within each chapter. For them, it made it manageable to read and kept their interest. They didn’t need to recall what had previously been read to pick it back up where they left off. I also noticed this same effect even after a professional editorial review. The reviewer commended PANDEMIC DAD for its ability to concisely summarize nine long months of my pandemic experience into a short memoir. Again, being concise was a plus in the eyes of a professional reviewer.

A year after writing PANDEMIC DAD, I traveled to my home state of Pennsylvania due to family illness. I had just written RED VIOLET and was completely burnt out. My two young daughters were keeping us quite busy at night and my day job was growing chaotic. It took a lot of grit to finish out the last touches on RED VIOLET.

Before boarding the plane, I had convinced myself to abandon writing altogether. It was too time consuming and often added more stress to my life in trying to carve out time for it. Though despite this resolution, a part of me felt that I wouldn’t be able to fully give it up. Somehow, I would still write – I needed to write. It was a creative outlet that I craved in my current life as a young, busy parent.

So, when I landed in Pennsylvania, and had some downtime one night at my parents’ home, I walked into my dad’s study and saw his vast collection of novels – mostly, Stephen King. Protruding outwards from the shelf was a worn-out original copy of the novel Night Shift.

Later that evening, after spending some quality time with my folks, I got into bed and stayed up reading it. It felt like I was back in grade school – cuddling up under the covers to read with a flashlight. But it was just what I needed. The idea of authoring short stories was captivating. I figured that it would be more manageable with juggling kids and work. It would also avoid vast storyboards and comprehensive edits. More importantly, for the reasons above, readers may also be drawn more to it. I could see them reading a single story in one sitting before they resumed the hustle and bustle of their day or evening.

With all of this understood, a few of you may still ask me: If people don’t read anymore, then why even write a book to begin with?

Honestly, I would write fiction even if no one ever read it. As I stated before, it’s a creative outlet and it’s a fulfilling accomplishment – something tangible. From start to end, it feels like a mystery that needs to be solved. Each bend in the story is thrilling to figure out. I love it. It’s a challenge. It’s that simple.

Hopefully – dear Reader - you now understand why I chose to author short stories this time. It’s partly selfish, due to my own time constraints these days. But it’s also an attempt to engage the masses who don’t read books for leisure anymore due to time constraints or other life duties. There is simply something magical about reading a novel in print. It is an active task. It requires the reader to fully commit themselves to the act. They forget about all their worries and stresses in life. They bend pages, jot down notes in the margin, or even show it off on their bookshelf like a trophy when finished.

My goal here is two-fold: first, to keep the word count low in each story; and second, to truncate each of them into small chunks – almost like separate movie scenes.  Again, this was my desperate attempt to make these stories more manageable for your busy schedule. I challenge you to read – not listen to – each of them from start to finish. If you accomplish this feat, please drop me an Instagram post letting me know that you defied the overwhelming odds.

I hope you enjoy,

JZ

Walk With Me

Vacation. Summer. Delaware Beaches. Freedom.

The plan was simple. We kept it that way on purpose. First, we’d hit up Boardwalk Fries at dusk. That was the tried-and-true window for a new batch of the best fries in town, not those leftovers from midday that had already crusted over and hardened like a rock. Once our bellies were satisfied, we’d jump over to The Surf for custard, then grab a few rotations on the Ferris wheel, and finally land over at the arcade. That was my favorite. Feeling a bunch of red, square tickets in my hand always felt like I had done something. The best part was comparing who won the most tickets from the machines at the end of the night. Though in the end, we’d combine them for one of those top shelf prizes. Not that fluffy animal kid stuff, but one of those big squirt guns or anything electronic. By the end of our vacation, each of us would have something worthwhile to take home - a souvenir from our annual summer trip.

But today, Donny was missing. We hadn’t even ridden the Ferris wheel yet. Knowing him, he’d run off with a girl. His teenage hormones were always driving his feet more than his brain. While the rest of us cared more about the beach and nightlife along the boardwalk, Donny was always scouring for love. Perhaps, because he didn’t get much at home. But that’s another story.

We were combing the boardwalk, searching for any clue to wherever he went. Jack went down the far side towards where the pirate mini golf sat. Betty went to investigate the surf shop. She knew it was Donny’s favorite shop. I decided to walk the beach myself. It was nighttime and the lights from the boardwalk shops provided a nice ambience. The waves were shallow and tranquil.

As a fifteen-year-old, this was paradise. My folks would come down here each summer for a week. We’d spend the days riding the waves, making sandcastles, and even some occasional shenanigans. My favorite was the dollar bill trick. Betty had found a magic device in Waldo’s Magic Shop, on the other end of the boardwalk. It was like a case of floss. A clear white string would pull out, we’d attach a dollar bill, and then, by pressing a button, it would quickly retract. Donny had the bright idea of sitting under the boardwalk planks and luring people to the dollar resting above. As soon as a patron would bend over and try to grab the dollar bill, he’d retract it back under the boardwalk cracks. It was cruel in a sense, but we were kids just having some fun.

After searching amongst the sand dunes through the chest-high beachgrass that abutted the boardwalk, there was still no sign of Donny. I was now far down the shore. Looking back, I could see the boardwalk lights far off in the distance. This was the farthest along the beach I’d ever walked before. Giving up, I was about to turn around and head back, when faint singing caught