Trailer Park Diaries 3: TPD, #3

By Aaron Abilene

Residents of a trailer park set out to help a wizard save his world after he shows up and begs for their help.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Syphon Creative
• Release date: May 16, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223521839

Book preview

Trailer Park Diaries 3

TPD, Volume 3

Aaron Abilene

Published by Syphon Creative, 2024.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

TRAILER PARK DIARIES 3

First edition. May 16, 2024.

Copyright © 2024 Aaron Abilene.

ISBN: 979-8223521839

Written by Aaron Abilene.

Also by Aaron Abilene

505

505

505: Resurrection

Balls

Dead Awake

Before The Dead Awake (Coming Soon)

Carnival Game

Full Moon Howl

Donovan

Shades of Z

Deadeye

Deadeye & Friends

Cowboys Vs Aliens

Ferris

Life in Prescott (Coming Soon)

Afterlife in Love (Coming Soon)

Island

Paradise Island

The Lost Island

The Lost Island 2

The Lost Island 3

The Island 2

Pandemic

Pandemic (Coming Soon)

Prototype

Prototype

The Compound

Slacker

Slacker 2

Slacker: Dead Man Walkin'

Texas

Devil Child of Texas

A Vampire in Texas

The Author

Breaking Wind

Yellow Snow

Dragon Snatch

Golden Showers

Nether Region

Thomas

Quarantine

Contagion

Eradication

Isolation

Immune

Pathogen

Bloodline

Decontaminated (Coming Soon)

TPD

Trailer Park Diaries

Trailer Park Diaries 2

Trailer Park Diaries 3

Virus

Raising Hell

Zombie Bride

Zombie Bride

Zombie Bride 2

Zombie Bride 3

Standalone

The Victims of Pinocchio

A Christmas Nightmare

Pain

Fat Jesus

A Zombie's Revenge

The Headhunter

Crash

Tranq

The Island

Dog

The Quiet Man

Joe Superhero

Feral

Good Guys

Romeo and Juliet and Zombies

The Gamer

Becoming Alpha

Dead West

Small Town Blues

Shades of Z: Redux

The Gift of Death

Killer Claus

Skarred

Home Sweet Home

Alligator Allan

10 Days

Army of The Dumbest Dead

Kid

The Cult of Stupid

9 Time Felon

Slater

Bad Review: Hannah Dies

Me Again

Maurice and Me

The Family Business

Lightning Rider : Better Days

Lazy Boyz

The Sheep

Wild

The Flood

Extinction

Good Intentions

Dark Magic

Sparkles The Vampire Clown

From The Future, Stuck in The Past

Rescue

Knock Knock

Creep

Honest John

Urbex

She's Psycho

Unfinished

Neighbors

Misery, Nevada

Vicious Cycle (Coming Soon)

Romeo and Juliet: True Love Conquers All (Coming Soon)

Hunting Sarah (Coming Soon)

Random Acts of Stupidity (Coming Soon)

Born Killer (Coming Soon)

The Abducted (Coming Soon)

Broken Man (Coming Soon)

Graham Hiney (Coming Soon)

Paper Soldiers (Coming Soon)

Zartan (Coming Soon)

The Firsts in Life (Coming Soon)

Giant Baby (Coming Soon)

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Aaron Abilene

Trailer Park Diaries 3

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Also By Aaron Abilene

Trailer Park Diaries 3

Written by Aaron Abilene

Marty Krebbs' knuckles were white, gripping the rusted crescent wrench like a lifeline as he lay on his back under the stubborn '78 Winnebago. His title of self-appointed mayor of Sunnycrest Trailer Park didn't grant him any magical mechanical skills, but it did provide a generous dose of delusional confidence. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he grunted, twisting at a bolt that had likely fused to its fitting in the last century. Another thrilling Saturday, he muttered, the sarcasm thick enough to cut with the very tool he wielded. The heat was oppressive, the kind that made the air above the asphalt mirage-like and sticky.

Life's just a series of busted pipes and leakin' roofs, he mumbled, eyeing the oil stain spreading like a shadow across his driveway. Marty dreamed of grandeur beyond the aluminum walls of Sunnycrest, but here he was, playing handyman to a vehicle older than most of the park's residents.

As if on cue with his thoughts of escapism, the universe decided to toss Marty a curveball—or rather, drop one right at his feet. A sudden, ear-splitting crash yanked him from beneath the Winnebago, sent tools scattering, and jolted every bone in his body. Marty scrambled to his feet, wrench still in hand, ready to confront whatever rogue asteroid had the audacity to disturb his weekend labor.

Great Caesar's ghost! he exclaimed, eyes wide as saucers.

Before him, amidst a crater of upturned earth and crushed beer cans, lay a man—no, not just any man—a wizard, by the looks of it. He came complete with a pointed hat askew on his head and robes that seemed to sparkle even through the dust cloud settling around them. The stranger groaned, pushing himself upright, while Marty's mouth hung open in a mix of shock and awe.

By the mystical moons of Terramyr... the wizard coughed, patting down his bejeweled tunic.

Terrawhat now? Marty blinked, feeling like he'd been sucker-punched by a chapter out of one of those fantasy novels he never read.

Terramyr, the wizard repeated, brushing dirt off himself with an air of nonchalance that only deepened the surreal nature of the moment. I am Zardoz, and it appears my arrival has been... somewhat more turbulent than intended.

A gaggle of trailer park residents began to congregate, drawn by the sound of impact and the promise of something more exciting than their daily reruns of daytime TV shows. They peered over Marty's shoulder, whispering and pointing at the spectacle before them.

Did that fella just fall outta the sky, Marty? one resident asked, her hair curlers tight as her grip on a pink flamingo lawn ornament.

Sure looks like it, Betty Sue, Marty replied, his eyes never leaving the disheveled wizard who was now attempting to stand, using his staff as leverage.

Is he one of them superheroes? Cletus chimed in, squinting skeptically.

Or super zeroes, more like, Edna snorted, her hands on her ample hips.

Marty shook his head, his mundane world suddenly injected with the possibility of the extraordinary. Here stood a man—or wizard—from another place altogether, and Marty Krebbs, self-appointed mayor, felt the stirrings of adventure ripple through the stagnant air of Sunnycrest Trailer Park.

Marty arched a brow at Zardoz, the supposed wizard from a place called Terramyr. Around him, the residents of Sunnycrest Trailer Park were an orchestra of skepticism, their murmurs harmonizing in a symphony of doubt.

Magic, you say? Marty prodded, arms folded over his chest, his curiosity piqued against his better judgment.

Indeed, Zardoz responded with a flourish of his wrist that seemed to ripple the air itself. I can demonstrate if you wish.

Go on then, show us, Marty said, stepping back to give Zardoz space—the hotbed of anticipation drawing a sharp contrast against the backdrop of aluminum siding and patchy lawns.

With a nod, Zardoz began to chant in a language that sounded like wind chimes caught in a storm. He waved his staff, and suddenly, objects around them stirred to life. A garden gnome lifted from someone's yard, hovering above the crowd's heads, its painted eyes wide as if in shock at its own defiance of gravity. A string of Christmas lights, left hanging since last season, flickered alive, dancing through the air in a cascade of colors.

Sweet mother of pearl! Betty Sue gasped, her curlers quivering with each passing spectacle.

Would you look at that, Cletus muttered, torn between awe and suspicion, his hand instinctively reaching for the screwdriver in his pocket, perhaps contemplating the mechanics of the marvel before him.

Even Edna, who'd scoffed earlier, watched with a begrudging respect as a whirlwind of light spun around her, sparks crackling like laughter in the silent spaces of disbelief.

Ya'll seeing this? Marty asked, turning to the gathered crowd, his voice tinged with excitement. We got ourselves a genuine wizard here!

Or a mighty good trickster, Edna countered, though less certain now.

Doesn't matter what you call it, Marty's eyes gleamed with the reflection of Zardoz's light show. It's the most excitement we've had since the raccoons got into Burt's moonshine stash.

He stepped forward, a spark of adventure igniting within him, feeling like the protagonist of one of those fantasy novels he'd never read. What do you need from us, Zardoz?

Zardoz lowered his staff, and the illusions gently receded, leaving behind a trail of wonder. Brave hearts and willing spirits, he said, locking eyes with Marty. To embark on a quest that will test the limits of your world and mine.

Count me in, Marty declared, surprising even himself with the swiftness of his commitment.

Me too, came Betty Sue's voice, her initial uncertainty washed away by the tide of Marty's enthusiasm.

Could be fun, Cletus shrugged, a rare smile cracking his weather-worn face.

Fine, Edna huffed, not to be outdone. But I ain't wearing no pointy hat.

A chorus of agreement rippled through the crowd, and Marty felt something shift in the very fabric of Sunnycrest—a collective readiness for something greater than the sum of their trailer lots. With a makeshift fellowship forming at his side, Marty Krebbs, self-appointed mayor, took the first step toward a destiny far removed from the grease stains and broken dreams of his '78 Winnebago.

Marty stood atop the cinder block steps of his Winnebago, his shadow stretching across the gravel like a herald of the coming adventure. Betty Sue, Cletus, and Edna clustered below him, their faces a mix of curiosity and bemusement.

Friends, Marty began, with more grandeur than one might expect from a man whose mayoral office was a lawn chair, we stand on the precipice of the unknown! Zardoz needs us—not just for our ability to tell a Phillips from a flathead or our uncanny knack for whipping up a mean barbecue. No, he needs these! Marty pointed squarely at his chest, then gestured to each of them in turn. Our pure hearts!

Betty Sue, who could out-bake, out-sass, and out-shoot anyone in Sunnycrest, patted her hair into place and grinned. Well, sugar, my heart's pure as my homemade apple pie. Just hope this quest of ours is half as exciting.

Cletus, the man of few words and many rusted car parts, nodded solemnly. His hands, always eager to dismantle an engine, twitched at the thought of unknown contraptions they might encounter. Pure heart, check. But I'm bringing my wrenches too—never know when you might need 'em.

Edna, arms crossed, still wore skepticism like her favorite bingo visor. Yet, there was a twinkle in her eye that hadn't been there before—a silent concession to the whimsy that had taken hold. Fine, fine. My spirit's willin', but I ain't doin' no trust falls with wizards.

The unlikely fellowship descended the steps together, leaving behind the echoing clangs of toolboxes and the scent of adventure that now permeated the air. They huddled around Marty, who unfurled a map that looked suspiciously like a napkin with scribbles all over it.

Alright, team, Marty said, pointing to a spot that could have been a stain or a landmark. Zardoz says we start our journey at the edge of the Whispering Woods. It's not on any map—well, except this one. He gave a reassuring wink.

Whispering Woods? Betty Sue mused aloud. Sounds like where my second husband claimed he saw Bigfoot that one time.

Bigfoot's the least of our worries, Cletus grumbled, adjusting his trucker hat against the setting sun. Just don't want to get tangled in any... what did Zardoz call 'em? Bramblekins?

More like bramble-brains if they think they can stop us, Edna scoffed, shouldering her oversized purse that could—and probably did—contain everything from a spare pair of pantyhose to a half-eaten pack of peppermints.

With a nod from Marty, the quartet stepped beyond the borders of Sunnycrest Trailer Park. Each stride carried the weight of their former lives and the lightness of newfound purpose. Marty led the vanguard, his eyes alight with visions of heroism and tales yet to be told. The mundane trappings of his day-to-day life fell away with each step forward, replaced by the electric thrill of the extraordinary.

Adventure awaits, friends! Let's show 'em how folks from Sunnycrest roll! Marty proclaimed, his voice carrying both a promise and a challenge.

Let's roll indeed, Betty Sue echoed, her laughter mixing with the evening breeze.

Rollin', Cletus agreed, his short affirmation ringing with uncharacteristic optimism.

Whatever, Edna added, but even she couldn't suppress a smile as the group ventured into the twilight, each ready to embrace the peculiar twists of fate that awaited them.

Left at the gnome with the wonky eye or right at the flamingo wearing sunglasses? Marty mused out loud, scratching his head as they navigated the labyrinthine sprawl of trailers. The Winnebago was now a distant memory, replaced by a sea of aluminum and kitsch that seemed to rearrange itself with every blink.

Pretty sure we've passed that gnome three times already, Betty Sue said, her voice tinged with amusement.

Or maybe there's a conspiracy of visually impaired gnomes, Cletus muttered, eyes narrowed in mock suspicion.

Conspiracy or not, I'm about to introduce my foot to... Edna began, but before she could finish her threat, she stepped onto a hidden hose, setting off a cascade of water from the mischievous sprinkler system that lay in wait.

Sprinkler system: one, Edna's hairdo: zero, Betty Sue quipped as they all burst into laughter, watching Edna futilely attempt to shield her teased bouffant from the sudden downpour.

Okay, okay, enough dilly-dallying, Marty chortled, ushering the group forward after the impromptu shower. We've got some magic to learn!

Zardoz, who had been watching their antics with a bemused twinkle in his eye, cleared his throat for attention. Gather 'round, brave companions! It is time to awaken the slumbering arcana within your souls.

Slumbering arcana? Is that like when Cletus falls asleep on the couch with the TV remote? Edna smirked, eliciting snickers from the others.

Silence, please! Zardoz commanded, albeit with a smile dancing on his lips. He drew a series of intricate symbols in the air, which glowed with an ethereal light. Now, focus on these runes and feel the energies converge.

Marty squinted hard, his face scrunching up comically as he attempted to mimic Zardoz's graceful gestures. Instead, sparks sputtered from his fingertips, singeing the hem of his shirt. Well, that's a start, he said, patting out the smoldering fabric.

Watch and learn, city boy, Cletus boasted, rolling up his sleeves. But his concentration broke when a wayward spark zapped him squarely on the nose, causing him to yelp and jump back, arms flailing. Dagnabbit! That's more shocking than a two-dollar bill in a birthday card!

Y'all are hopeless, Betty Sue sighed, stepping forward with confidence. With a deep breath and a steady gaze, she mimicked the gestures flawlessly—until her efforts conjured a small whirlwind that whipped through the trailers, sending garden gnomes and flamingos flying like a yard sale apocalypse.

Oopsie daisy, she said sheepishly as the wind died down, leaving a trail of gnome-less lawns in its wake.

Remarkable! Truly, you possess great potential, Zardoz praised, though his words were somewhat drowned by the clatter of displaced lawn decorations settling back to earth.

Potential for disaster, maybe, Edna drawled, plucking a stray pink feather from her damp hair.

But despite the mishaps, the group's spirits remained high. Their laughter rang out, merging with the symphony of trailer park life around them. At least, they thought with shared determination, they were no longer just faces in Sunnycrest. They were fledgling magicians, embarking on an adventure that promised to be anything but mundane.

Marty Krebbs led the charge into the Whispering Woods, his eyes wide with a mix of anticipation and the kind of fear that tickles the ribs. The trees seemed to lean in curiously, their leaves rustling with gossip about the odd band of would-be heroes trespassing into their domain.

Keep your peepers peeled for that Bramblekin, Marty instructed, wielding a stick like a knight brandishing a sword. It's a sneaky critter, from what Zardoz says.

More like a thorn in my side, waiting to happen, muttered Edna, swiping away hanging moss as if it personally offended her.

Shh! Betty Sue hushed them with a finger to her lips. You hear that?

The woods fell silent, no longer whispering but holding their breath. And then, an eruption of cackles broke the quiet—a sound like twigs snapping under the weight of malice. The Bramblekin emerged from the foliage, its body a tangle of brambles and thorns, eyes glowing with a greenish light that promised nothing good.

Stand back! Zardoz commanded, raising his staff. But before he could utter an incantation, the Bramblekin lashed out with a vine, sending Zardoz tumbling into a bush bedecked with bewildered squirrels.

Y'all wizards ain't got nothing on Sunnycrest ingenuity, Cletus declared, stepping forward with a grin. He reached into his tool belt—now more of a magical utility belt—and pulled out a contraption that looked like a cross between garden shears and a miniature chainsaw.

Behold, he said with a dramatic flourish, the Vine-o-Matic 3000!

Did you just come up with that name? Marty asked, as the machine sputtered to life with a puff of smoke.

Sure did, Cletus replied, proud as a peacock. Now watch this.

He charged at the Bramblekin, which let out another mocking cackle. Cletus swung the Vine-o-Matic 3000 with gusto, slicing through vines like warm butter. The Bramblekin recoiled, clearly not used to being on the receiving end of such innovation.

Get the shard! Cletus shouted over the din, dodging a particularly spiky tendril.

Marty dived towards the center of the clearing where the shard glimmered with celestial light. As he reached for it, a rogue branch whipped out, snagging his pants and hoisting him upside down.

Could use a little help here! Marty yelled, flailing as his world turned topsy-turvy.

Coming, Mayor Upside-Down! Betty Sue called out, rushing over while Edna and Zardoz kept the Bramblekin busy with a barrage of misfired spells and insults.

With a well-placed chop from the Vine-o-Matic 3000, Marty was free, and the shard of the Celestial Scepter was in his hands. The Bramblekin, now resembling a badly groomed hedge, retreated into the depths of the Whispering Woods, leaving behind only the memory of its laughter.

Good going, Cletus, Marty praised, righting himself and dusting off. Your gizmo really saved our hides.

Ah, tweren't nothing, Cletus said, though the twinkle in his eye spoke of his pride. Just wait 'til I fine-tune this baby for our next adventure.

And with that, the group set off once again, the shard safely tucked away, their laughter mingling with the newly resumed whispers of the woods—stories that would soon include the legend of the unlikely heroes from Sunnycrest Trailer Park.

Marty Krebbs took the lead, the orange glow of molten lava casting their shadows against the cavern walls like a troupe of dancing giants. Their descent into the subterranean world of the Molten Dwarves had begun with a rickety minecart ride that left everyone's hair standing on end—except for Zardoz whose beard seemed impervious to physics.

Stay sharp, folks, Marty warned, his voice echoing off the rocks. The Magmalord's as cunning as a fox in a henhouse.

More like a dragon in a gold mine, quipped Betty Sue, her eyes gleaming with the same fierceness that made her the undefeated arm-wrestling champion of Sunnycrest.

They ventured deeper, past rivers of liquid fire and stalactites that looked like they could impale a giant. It wasn't long before they stood before the throne of the Magmalord—a being carved from obsidian and ember, his eyes burning coals in the dim light.

Who dares enter my domain? boomed the Magmalord, rising from his throne of smoldering stone.

Name’s Marty, your Fieryness, Marty replied, puffing his chest out. We’ve come for the shard of the Celestial Scepter, if you please.

Please? Ha! The Magmalord's laugh was like an avalanche. You must best me in a challenge of wits!

Aw, fiddlesticks, muttered Cletus, scratching his head. Was hopin' it'd be a fixin' contest.

Or a spell-duel, mumbled Zardoz, stroking his beard with anticipation.

But it was Betty Sue who stepped forward, her smile disarming yet full of mischief. How 'bout a trade of stories instead? I got one about a possum that'll make your toes curl.

The Magmalord, intrigued by this unusual proposition, leaned forward. Entertain me, then.

Betty Sue launched into the tale, her voice weaving through the guffaws of dwarves and the crackle of fires. She told of the possum who outsmarted a hungry gator, tricked a greedy raccoon, and even hoodwinked the mayor of Sunnycrest—all without losing its grin.

Your tale pleases me, admitted the Magmalord, wiping a tear of magma from his cheek. Very well, the shard is yours.

Score one for possum diplomacy! cheered Edna, pumping her fist with delight.

Didn't see that comin', Marty confessed, impressed. He turned to the Magmalord with newfound respect. You got a deal, sir.

As they exited with the shard secure in Marty's pocket, the Magmalord's laughter echoed behind them, blending with the bubbling of the lava and the chatter of the dwarves, who now saw the visitors not as intruders, but as friends—and maybe even heroes.

Edna's fingers trembled as they grazed the surface of the artifact, her eyes reflecting its hypnotic glimmer. The mysterious trinket had whispered promises of boundless power, and in a moment of weakness, Edna had succumbed to its siren song. She slipped away from the group, her betrayal as silent as the shadows that cloaked her departure.

Where's Edna off to? Cletus asked, squinting through the haze of the cavern.

Probably lookin' for more of them shiny baubles, Marty replied with a chuckle, unaware of the gravity of her absence.

But as they ventured further, Edna's absence became conspicuous. It wasn't long before they stumbled upon a scene of chaos: Edna cornered by a rival faction, her allies now enemies, all due to the treacherous whispers of the artifact clutched in her hand.

Great Galloping Goblins! Marty exclaimed, witnessing the comedic spectacle as Edna tried to command her new 'minions', only to have them bicker among themselves, completely ignoring her orders.

Y'all supposed to listen to me now! I got the shiny thing! Edna huffed, frustration painting her cheeks a brighter shade than her usual rouge.

Looks like them shiny promises ain't worth a hill o' beans, Cletus observed with a snort.

Or a molehill of molten magma, Zardoz added, trying to suppress a smirk.

Fine, fine, I made a boo-boo, Edna conceded, tossing the artifact aside and shuffling back to her friends, her pride slightly singed but humor intact. Let's just get those shards before I get tempted to start my own kingdom or somethin' equally foolish.

With Edna's misadventure behind them, the group refocused on their quest. The Firelands loomed ahead, an inferno of challenges with a penchant for roasting the unprepared. As they approached, the ground beneath them rumbled, and plumes of flame erupted into the sky, as if the earth itself was throwing a tantrum.

Firelands, huh? More like temperamental toddler lands, Betty Sue quipped, dodging a spurt of flame with a graceful two-step.

Careful there, warned Marty, don't want to end up with a hotfoot—or worse, a hot everything.

Zardoz led the way, his staff glowing with protective enchantments, though the spells did little to shield them from the stifling heat or the occasional rain of soot. Each step forward was a dance with danger, a fiery waltz that tested their resolve.

Who needs a sauna when you've got this natural heat treatment? joked Cletus, wiping sweat from his brow with a grimy handkerchief.

Speak for yourself, I prefer my pores unclogged by ash, Betty Sue retorted, using her bandana as a makeshift mask.

The Glacieryn Peaks stood in stark contrast, a frigid fortress of solitude crowned with snow. Slippery slopes awaited them, each footfall a potential slide into icy oblivion. Marty led a cautious march, his eyes fixed on the path ahead.

From fire to ice, eh? This quest sure ain't for the faint of heart, he mused, steadying himself against a gust of arctic wind.

Or the poorly shoed, Edna chimed in, nearly losing her balance before being caught by Cletus's outstretched arm.

Next time, we're packin' ice skates, Betty Sue declared, her laughter echoing off the frozen walls.

Or sled dogs, Cletus added, envisioning a team of barking Chihuahuas straining at their harnesses.

Let's just hope the shard's easier to handle than these peaks, Zardoz said, wrapping his cloak tighter around him.

Whatever it takes, Marty vowed, his voice carrying over the howl of the wind. We'll conquer fire, ice, and anything else this quest throws at us.

And with determination warming their spirits against the cold, the motley crew pressed onwards, ready for whatever comedy the elements had in store.

Marty's boot skidded on a patch of ice, sending him flailing in a pirouette that would have made an ice dancer green with envy. With arms windmilling desperately, he just managed to regain his balance, much to the snickers of his companions.

Maybe we should call you 'Marty on Ice,' Betty Sue teased, her voice muffled by the bandana still wrapped around her face.

Very funny, Marty grumbled, adjusting the blanket tied cape-like around his shoulders—a makeshift insulation against the biting cold. Next time, I'll aim for a triple axel.

Or a triple klutz! Cletus chortled, poking fun at Marty's less-than-graceful recovery.

Hey, at least I'm trying to lead us forward, Marty shot back, his pride slightly wounded. If anyone else has a better idea how to navigate this oversized ice cube tray, be my guest.

Chill, Marty, Edna quipped, deliberately using the pun as she shivered under her own layers of clothing. We're all just a bit frosty right now.

Speak for yourselves, Zardoz interjected, raising his staff and murmuring an incantation. The tip glowed briefly before fizzling out like a dud firecracker. Blasted magic doesn't want to work properly in this cold!