“Machine-gun sentences. Fast. Intense. Mickey Spillane-style. No way around it. Paul is a top-notch writer. Top-notch.” Thomas Phillips, author of The Molech Prophecy.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Hags Episode 12
Do you want to start at the beginning of this series? Click here.
Bob rose from his chair and faced the counter. He paced a short distance and checked over his shoulder. “You know where to find me if you need me.” Bob made his way up to Peevy. They talked.
Micah took a sip from his coffee while focusing on Peevy. In this light and distance it didn’t take much for him to picture the last time she smiled at him.
He remembered a summer day on the Prairie Path, an abandoned series of old railroad right of ways converted to hiking paths that wander through Chicago’s suburbs. Peevy in blue shorts and a white sleeveless top. And about two hundred fewer pounds. A kiss. Not one of those passionate, let’s make like bunnies in the bushes kind of kisses. Instead, they pressed each other’s lips together in a gentle promise of commitment.
A tear flowed down Micah’s right cheek. Peevy stared at him from behind the counter and her expression softened for a split second before it hardened again. Then her face lit up as she turned to the front door of the coffee shop.
“Ahlman!” she called. Several customers stood up when the man with gossamer wings hidden under his Ivy League blue dress shirt entered. They began to applaud.
“Way to go, Ahlman,” a man shouted from a table on the other side of the room.
Ahlman strutted up to the counter through a group of about one half dozen admirers who wanted to shake his hand. He smiled and shook hands like a politician.
“It’s on the house. I’m overlooking that you’re a man,” Peevy said.
“Thank you, dear lady.” Ahlman took the coffee and headed towards Micah’s table. He passed it and sat at the next table in the row and eyeballed Micah as he sat down. He placed his coffee and a copy of Twain’s Letters From the Earth on the table.
Micah nodded in Ahlman’s direction. “You must have done something right.”
Ahlman’s eyes twinkled. “Raised money for one of the local high schools, old boy. I have some friends who are generous.”
“Friends in high places?”
Ahlman laughed and shook his head from side-to-side. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. Been here both days.”
Ahlman moved to Micah’s table. “How do you like our town so far?”
“I’ve always liked Naperville. Certain Napervillians are the problem.” Micah took another bite of his scone and washed it down with coffee.
“So this is not your first visit?”
“Long story. Let’s not go there.”
“Any interesting adventures since you came to town?”
“It’s only been two days.”
“So…”
Micah glared at Ahlman. “Yesterday morning a giant faerie that looked like you flew past my window on gossamer wings and landed in the alley in back of my house. Oh, and I found a body in the dumpster.”
“Tell you what, Micah, I’ll be careful of my flight patterns, and you be careful of your imagination.”
“So it was you?”
Ahlman roared with laughter. “You found a faerie? Naperville is such a straight-laced suburban community that I’m surprised you would find one around here. Then again I suppose you can find gays everywhere. My, this is noble coffee. They don’t roast it like this where I come from.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Peevy. You set the land speed record for making her angry when you came in yesterday morning. I asked her who you were.”
“And she told you?”
“She said you were the reason she hates all men.”
“About says it all.” Micah took a sip of coffee.
“Doesn’t say why she hates you, old boy.”
“No. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”
“She may not have wanted to make me blush. I have a certain reputation to maintain. Did you say you found a body? I don’t believe Naperville has many murders.”
Micah held up his forefinger. “It has one now.”
“We’ve had our share of rape and child molestation, but I don’t think we’ve had many murders.” Ahlman took a sip of his coffee.
“Peevy told you?”
“Told me what, Micah?”
“I’m leaving now.” Micah stood up.
“By the way, nice outfit, Micah. Nieman-Marcus?”
Micah stormed out into the bright light of the street.
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Monday, February 25, 2013
Hags Episode 11
Do you want to start at the beginning of this series? Click here.
We interrupt your reading of my novel Hags for an important message. I won't be able to post the entire novel here, but at the end of the episodes appearing here, I'll make the Kindle version available free for a week on Amazon so you can finish it at your leisure. And if you simply must have the entire book right away, you may purchase the paperback or Kindle version at any time by clicking here.
And now back to our regularly schedule episode of Hags:
Bob’s eyes became intense as he faced Micah again. “What did you do?”
“I told you.”
“What about Janice?”
“She’s a liar.”
“And you always tell the truth?”
Micah placed an elbow on the table and rubbed his jaw with his hand. He let his hand slide up to his mouth. The hand slid over to allow Micah to rest his cheek on it. “I spent fifteen years in prison because someone else didn’t tell the truth.”
“You believe that, don’t you?”
Micah dropped his hand from his cheek and locked eyes with Bob. “Why shouldn’t I? It’s the truth.”
“Sometimes when someone does something horrible, they block it out in their mind.”
“I told you the truth. You can believe me or not. Your choice.”
Bob gazed towards the front door. No one entered. He turned to Micah. “Sounds to me like the choices were made a long time ago. Perhaps it’s time to put the past behind you and move on with life.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“You came home to put the past behind you?”
“I came to Naperville to … I don’t know … it’s more like I’m trying to get a handle on life. Do you ever wonder why you’re alive?”
“No. I know why I’m alive.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Micah sipped more coffee. He placed the cup on the table and gazed into Bob’s eyes. “Where you are is where I want to go because right now my life sucks. It has sucked for twenty years, and I’m ready to get off this screwed up merry-go-round.”
“I can help.”
“How?”
“For starters, I could be a friend.” Bob reached across the table, his arm not long enough to reach Micah.
“You’d have to believe me before I could trust you.”
Bob straightened up and turned his hands palm up. “I believe that you believe you didn’t commit the crime for which you went to prison.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“Okay, it may not be, but it’s a beginning. The rest will follow.” Bob placed his hands on the table and stared at Micah.
“Bob, I appreciate your honesty. I do. But I don’t need friends.”
“What are you looking for?”
“When I figure that out, I’ll tell you.”
“So you need some sort of purpose?” Bob leaned back and stroked his chin.
“For starters.”
“So what are you doing in Naperville besides drinking coffee?”
A sudden rush of heat rose in Micah’s face. His voice became animated. “Eating scones.” Micah took a bite from his cranberry pastry. “And fixing up a house. It’s an experiment. I want to see if I can buy cheap, fix up and sell high. I like working with my hands.”
“Sounds like a purpose to me. A bit mercenary, but a purpose.”
“It’s more like what I’m doing until I figure out what I’m doing.”
“We should talk more about this. Your life has a purpose.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
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If you don't want to wait to continue reading Hags, purchase the paperback or Kindle version right now by clicking here.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Hags Episode 10
Do you want to start at the beginning of this series? Click here.
Chapter Five
Micah pulled a thick wad of bills from his blue jeans pocket. “Coffee, black, big, intense.”
“Screw off.” Peevy’s voice did not sound as angry as yesterday, but her lips had that same upturned, puckered and livid sweep to them. Her eyes glared against her pale face.
From down the counter, Bob said, “Peevy, you can’t even swear right. What are you doing, opening a jar?”
Peevy threw an empty paper coffee cup at Bob. “Screw off.”
“Coffee, black, big, intense.” Micah stared at the faded wood floor to hide a smile. It became a game. He raised his eyes from the mahogany kick plate up to the glass face. Micah studied the bakery items on display.
“Screw off.”
“Cranberry scone.”
“Screw off.”
He peeled a fifty from his stack of bills and placed it on the counter. He raised his head. Peevy’s disheveled blond hair draped her puffy face. She no longer possessed the figure he remembered from twenty years ago when they were both nineteen. Frowning did not make her attractive.
Peevy opened the register and placed the fifty inside. She removed coins and paper currency. After a cold stare, she threw the money on the glass counter top. “Screw off.”
“You’re welcome, and I don’t mind if you use the F-word.”
“Screw off. I hope you never F-word anyone again in your sorry, lousy life.” Peevy stomped into the backroom.
Micah pocketed the paper bills and three pennies remaining on the counter top. He ignored the three quarters, dime and nickel scattered across the floor but picked up the coffee and scone that Peevy slammed on the counter.
He parked at a table by the window and stared at the steam as it rose from the tiny hole in the plastic lid of his coffee cup. The rich aroma of coffee filled his nostrils as the vapor formed a petite, cold female hand and arm. As the mist rose higher, it dispersed into the shape of gossamer dragonfly wings.
“May I join you?” asked Bob.
Micah jumped. An embarrassed smirk crossed his lips as Bob sat opposite him with his tiny feet dangling in the air above the floor and his face stretching above the tabletop, kid style.
Peevy returned to the front and slapped the counter top with a towel. “If you were half a man, you’d buy a rope.”
Bob twisted around to face Peevy. “Hey, I am half a man.” He spun back to Micah. “What’s the rope for?”
“To hang me.”
“What did you do to her?” Bob’s eyes became large.
“Didn’t do anything.”
“Must have done something for Peevy to hate you twenty years later. I know Peevy. She gets pissed and then she gets over it.”
“She believes I did a horrible thing.” Micah wiped his hand across his mouth. He looked up at Bob and took a sip of coffee. The bitter taste danced on his tongue.
“But you didn’t?”
Micah locked eyes with Bob. “No.”
Bob spun around again. “He didn’t do it, Peevy.”
Peevy stopped polishing the coffee machine. She didn’t bother to turnaround. “Ask him how many years he got in prison for doing nothing to my little sister.”
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If you don't want to wait to continue reading Hags, purchase the paperback or Kindle version right now by clicking here.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Hags Episode 9
Do you want to start at the beginning of this series? Click here.
Chapter Four
The rock rolled around in the pit of Megan McCormick’s stomach and parked on a sore spot as she entered the principal’s outer office. Megan breathed easier when she spotted Mrs. Rinaldi behind her desk in the reception area. Megan’s imaginary rock shrunk to a pebble and rolled off the sore place.
“Dr. Langdon sent for me, Mrs. Rinaldi.”
“Have a seat, dear.” Mrs. Rinaldi popped her head into the principal’s office. “Megan is here, Dr. Langdon.”
Megan fixed her gaze on Mrs. Rinaldi who returned to her desk. She became bored watching Mrs. Rinaldi pecking at her keyboard.
Megan almost bit down on her purple and green painted nails before catching herself. She placed both hands on her lap and sighed when she noticed they fell below the hemline of her short black skirt. She could see her navel with the tiny gold ring through her thin white blouse. She fastened two top buttons she had left undone.
Dr. Langdon strolled out to the reception area. He wore a brown sports coat and khaki trousers.
“Please come in, Megan.” He stood aside to allow Megan to pass into his office. She waited by Dr. Langdon’s desk and listened.
“You don’t have to wait around, Mrs. Rinaldi.”
“But you’ll be alone, Dr. Langdon. I mean with her. Is that a good idea?”
“Evelyn, you say that every time I have an afternoon student appointment, and I always tell you not to worry. It’s your choice, if you prefer to stay after hours. But there has never been a complaint since the day I took over as principal.”
“If you’re sure, I have things to do at home.”
The rock rolled back onto Megan’s sore spot and grew by several inches.
Dr. Langdon returned to his office. “Have a seat, Megan.” He indicated one of the two office chairs in front of his desk as he closed the office door.
Megan pulled at her skirt as she sat down. She wished she had worn slacks instead of her shortest outfit.
Dr. Langdon stepped behind his desk and picked up a file. He returned to the front of the desk and sat in the open seat, pulling it over so it touched Megan’s chair. He smiled while he opened the file. “Let’s talk about what we can do to bring up your math grade, Megan. I’d hate to have you not graduate with your class.”
He patted her on the hand.
Megan crossed her legs and stared at a smudge on the wall behind Dr. Langdon’s desk. She waited for what other girls said always came next.
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If you don't want to wait to continue reading Hags, purchase the paperback or Kindle version right now by clicking here.
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