attack of the shadow people

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

set in the 1980's, deep in the foot hills of the appalachian moutnains,
stories from misanthropes, vagabonds, outlaws, and unfortunate dregs intertwine as they all struggle to survive against an onslaught of hallucinations, delusions, and shadowy figures that attempt to poison and consume their minds. the mountain might kill them all, if the shadow people dont first.

Attack of the Shadow People: Track 1.

"The High Noon After Midnight"

She breathed in deeply. Strong cold wind clinched the ice in her lungs. She looked down the street and sighed longingly wishing that the sun would rise all ready.

And maybe... Maybe just bring her back to life... And perhaps soothe just a little, just a little... The dull and cold phantom pains which she compulsively flicked away from the burning embers at the end of each cigatette she blackened her lungs with.

But the stars shined bright over her it seemed. Always.... Always at 3:00 in the morning. The bewitching hour. That old Appalachian witchcraft would be wide awake. And its favorite vessel chosen to inhabit, would have dark circles under her lonesome, and world weary eyes.

Smoke swirled erratically inside the jury rigged light bulb. The device had been concocted crudely to serve as a pipe. The tornado of smoke soon found its way out of the bull pen, and into her lungs. Passing through her raw and aggravated throat and mouth, she grimaced. Sharp pain struck her abscessed tooth. Dry mouth made her gums recede and tighten.

Track marks forming constellations on her arms read out a gut wrenching tale with every bruise and pin hole used as parenthesis for a sorrow filled, lonesome road memoir.

She stood up from the commode when suddenly there came a hard left hook that came from the sleep deprivation she found herself cursed with. As if it were a spell conjured up from ancient tomes dedicated to black masses. That old Appalachian witchcraft knocked her back. She crumbled to the linoleum floor. A technical knock out. Lights out.


Track 2.

" Find God in Simplest Beasts."

A cacophony of pots and pans clattering and smashing to the ground down in the kitchen rang out through the rest of the house like a siren's shrill warning of an imminent nuclear detonation. It always pissed the neighbors off something fierce, regrettably...

" Goddamnit!" I moaned, as I woke from a drunken stooper.

In a profound fit of rage I found myself hurling a chair at that old woman's head. Mee Maw knew the score. She knew I could whip her ass from here to Las Vegas but her sick sense of humor would never abide her leaving me the hell alone. Besides... She was my only living grandmama. Finders keepers losers weepers I guess.

" Nice arm there baby goose!" She quacked hatefully.

She never failed to go right for the jugular. Vicious as she was old. Venomous and senile as her granny panties suggested. Mama mia! She sucked.

" I'm outta here! Hell with you!" I barked. When I slammed the door behind me the glass in the screen door splintered and then shattered. I could hear her cackling away as the forsaken screen door hissed and shut itself behind me.

* # % * > × 000. % 3/4

* Gomer Pyle said something stupid to his sergeant and yet the humor of the old tv show had become lost on Mee Maw. She stared blankly at the screen and felt nothing. The crazed old lady had entered the dead zone of her mind. If her third eye chakra had ever opened, it would have given her a cosmic distress signal by showing her this very moment. Her, marinating in her own bile and excrement. A sorry sight indeed, but if only she had eyes to see. Her life had never been easy. When she was only fifteen she found herself pregnant, then shortly there after, a single mom. An immaculate conception betwixt her and as she would cryptically put it " A rhinestone cowboy". She would later find that try as she might, she would never love any man half as much as she loved Glenn Campbell. Though fate always kept them a part it seemed. As she was a Scorpio, and regrettably, he a Capricorn.


I don't know where to begin or why it even matters but I suppose some sort of explanation is in order. I'm not a virtuous man by any means. When the lord conjured me from the clay he must've been busy raining wrath down onto the city of Sodom. Maybe I was still on the assembly line when that angry God decided to rake the sky with thunder and smoldering brimstone. And during all that biblical blood shed maybe the blue prints for my construction just... Disappeared.

Maybe he sent me on through without a decent bone in my body. If that was the case. So be it. Stars aligned wrong when I was born? Breathed in to much dark matter when I saw fit to crawl to life? A scorched heart pumping hot ash instead of the bodies fierce rapids of life sustaining blood? Well then so be it. Que sera, sera.

Now I won't argue with our Heavenly Father. If the lord is infallible, and truly infallible, then the deeds I've done in the dark in the name of the hell I feel in my heart were his chores too. If we're all made in his image like that book says we are, he must look through the same splintered glass that I do. Surely he sees that same smudged and broken mirror that reflects that cold, dark, void shining in my eyes. If he don't then where does that leave me? What if he can't see it? What if all the blood from my vanquished brother's in arms has sullied and polluted the ground water with dark energy. Rendering this garden barren. Gasping for air In a pit of boiling maroon that I had a hand in conjuring up from the depths.

I laid the foundation... Maybe the ones I gave back to God are working over time. Each day that passes with another sun set... Giving way to a new day's dawn... Is just another nail being driven into that very coffin I've been working on for all these nightmarish and painful years. Can still feel it all so vividly. Like a phantom limb...

My hands are unclean. Stained with the same blood I used to paint and write poetry with, and where does it hurt?

............ Everywhere..........

And I've given every single square inch of this agony back in some way, shape, or form. I can't hide from that no more. I just ain't that lucky. I'd like to think the almighty forgives, but Id understand if that just ain't in his nature.

Ain't in mine.

Lessons learned,

choices I made...

Sometimes the dark wins. Sometimes the good dies young. Still born and frozen. Doomed to drift alone through the blackness of that big void out there. And if that thought is to goddamn cheery and whimsical to grasp, then here's some words of wisdom that's real plain to see, and that is; Find God, in the simplest beast.

Love ya mawmaw <3 Least I Reckon So...

Your youngest, ETHAN PAUL HICKS

Track 3.

" Boogity! Boogity!! Boogity!!!"

Was privy... so forth... With some uhh.. Existential talks about life and the human condition. Then someone pulled in the driveway. A girl. Rough looking. Old rooting tootin.. A bolt from the blue. A goddamn thieving ass jezebel but one of ours all the same. Cant remember her name. It was something weird.

Christ sakes... What was her name...

Twenty nine years old. But she didn't look it.

Her man had apparently beat her up pretty good before being thrown in jail that night long ago. Bond set too high for her best I recall. She'd be no rescuer to him that long and dismal night. Likely be there for a spell.


She had terrible bad bruises on. Not all from him.... Needle maybe... She had hesitated and sheepishly requested his permission to bang it into her arm I reckon. His indifference our disgust. As he got pissed. And that move, cost her a bludgening. Courtesy of that mouth breathin' hateful asshole. Soon to be not goddamn ever breathing no more after that lil parlor trick......

She could have been a pretty girl. But... Something went wrong. Had to have. Took a long time.. Still... Ughh.

But mistakes were made... long the way. She was in the bathroom for thirty minutes or so. Came back and talked for a minute before leaving that night.

We all drove out yonder when it got pitch black out.

And buried that feller right fast after all that came to pass. No thank you kindly much obliged necessary.

Good riddance to the son of a bitch. And... She wouldnt... didn't... miss him no ways. Said she was gonna start going back to church. We wished her well for it and gave a God bless.

Slept easy. Knowing her man was safe and sound. Over yonder in that one horse town... In another state away... Left for dead in the mud, on a backwoods pig farm no one can seem to find on any map or blip on GPS...

Just ain't no service down thataways...

It's just the damndest thing. Shit! " It was Logan. That was her name."

" You say something Caleb?" Ethan asked from the driver seat.



" Everything that I loved about the world is gone now. Has been for a while. I'm scared a lot nowadays. Of the future. Where I'll fit into it. I don't think I want any part of it to be honest. I'm tired. So goddamn tired man. I care so deeply for the ones I love. Maybe they see that. Maybe they care that way for me too. But I don't feel it. Im alone. It's just me. And that's a reality that's hard to face. Nobody gives a shit about me... People say they care. And I suppose they do. But I can't feel it. There's nothing out here for me anymore... And that's fine...

Wretched abyss. Can't escape it. Been feeling it for days now man. Hopelessness. Misery. Combined with a vague numbness that lingers inside me. Tried to inspire hope today. Had to reach far down. Short lived though. Always is. Not sure what to do with myself man. Worried the light inside me has burned out."

Ethan barked at me abruptly.

" Would you shut the fuck up Caleb? Goddamnit you're making me want to kill MYSELF. If you wanna shoot yourself in the fucking head just goddamn do it all ready ya fucking pussy." I looked over at Ethan and raised my middle finger at him half heartedly. He scowled back at me.

Okay... Maybe he had a point..

Might can be.. Melodramatic at times. Still...

Fuck him.....

" Sorry man.. Yeah.. aint all bad.. just.. Stick and move. Stick and move. Left jab. DONT Throw in the towel. Im gonna be fine.. And the winner is..." he interrupted my bullshit yet again but with more urgency this time. That immediately worried me.

" You hear that?" Ethan asked, shushing me. " Yeah..." I said as my face contorted with sudden dread.

" It's the goddamn fuzz!" Ethan hollered.

The sound of three big truck engines erupted and the sound of dirt flying into the air was all it took for me to realize we had just fucked up and got fucking snitched out by the sucking fucking rat shit eating goddamn snitch ass fucking cock ramming piece of shit narc fucking confidential informant. The goddamn buyer wearing a mother fucking wire. And Ethan's cousin too. Of course! Fucked over again as usual.

" Son of a whore..." I said to no one in particular.

Ethan was looking at me. He motioned toward the cellophane in the center console.

" No fucking way man."

" Take it for the team bud." He said sternly.

" Ethan... I ain't shoving this shit up my ass. It ain't happening man." I rebuked.! He looked at the baggy we both shared a stake in. Eyeballing it grimly.

" My ass is to tight. Gonna have to bite the bullet Caleb. Take one for the team mother fucker!" He hollered with laughter.

Mother fuck... I jammed the bag up my ass. " .......Oh shit.. fucking thing tickles!..." I said exhaling in haste a cloud of panic thick cigarette smoke...

" Holy shit you actually did it. That's fucking hilarious."


" Kill Me a Bambi."

. I hate, and I scowl at the loveliest of blessings on this earth. I have had moments where ugliness and wrath have won out over my bettering judgement and left me bitterly stranded with no where to turn except down.

But my sweetheart of a woman... She seemed to arrive in my life at a perfect time in which I needed a beacon of hope. Something I could swim towards that would inspire me enough to break me of my complacency so that I might choose to fight for life instead of willingly allowing myself to sink and drown and inevitably die.

She rid me of the fear. That I should meet that mysterious stranger on the cross roads to perdition. Looping back around at some point.

Cause she helps me toe the line. Honest. And helps me to burn the right bridges. The ones i need to reduce to ashes to get out of all this.

This life. This kind of life I mean...

Burn the right bridges she said... Just like when her eyes sparked a fire in me that i had thought burned out all them ears ago. Hell..

I think I can do that for her. This time I can do it by God.

Id shed a tear for them.. The bridges I've walked. The ones I aim to burn.

But I'm saving them up just now. I have a feeling I'll be needing some of them tears in the directly.

The sound of us fucking made the dogs bark. Worried one of us might be hurting the other. When in reality, we had just transcended pain into ecstasy. And came together. In unison.

" ...Goddamn baby.." she gasped out.

I ran my fingers through her hair during the zero hour as she purred in a deep sleep. Who is this lovely creature? Wondering if she recognizes the dark matter inside me way I do for her. I kissed her on the cheek and quietly got out of bed. I looked out the window and gazed at the street lights reflecting off the wet pavement. I got lost for a second.

I got up and pulled the revolver from under my bed and sat up with it smoking a cigarette in the dark. I looked down at the gun metal and let the weight of it swing my wrist up and down. I sat there for a spell.

Until I brokedown... And wept.

Her old man... The one Ethan Hicks and his bunch took care of. I pray the lord turned his back to him. Made him suffer some wrath for what he done to her. Because this woman... This angel what got liberated by me and my outfit... Shes the most precious thing in my life now.

That had better goddamn mean some fucking thing in the end. After all this shit. It has to. It just fucking has to. Shit... Or I'll end it all my goddamned self. Ethan warned me that any less would result in inner turmoil for me.

I'm inclined to agree. Him and his bunch... They took care of it. For me and mine.

And they're coming to collect payment for their service to me and mine... come morning....

But we'll done be gone by then.


Side B: Track 1.


Ethan smoked a cigarette while he waited for the door to let him in from outside. He grew more and more impatient by the second.

" Yall open the goddamn fucking door or I'll bust it the mother fuck down I swear to christ!" He striked and spit venomously.

After another few moments of silence Ethan turned the knob once more but it remained shut and dead bolted, even still. His brow furrowed with impatience, frustration, and anger.

With just one good deep breath he stepped back and with a sudden explosive blast from his shoulder he cracked against the double wide trailer door, splintering it inward. Leaving it hanging by just one badly bent and broken hinge.

He pulled his revolver from his belt and blood thirstingly skulked his way down the darkened valley of the hallway,.and into the living room. He scanned peripherally the corners of the room and for a moment, thought about turning around and leaving the home. Until a yawn from the back bed room sealed the poor double wides fate. He crept menacingly towards the back bedroom and with a swing from his leg, swung the bedroom door open.

There on the water bed sat a very naked, pretty little thing.

She appeared only vaguely disturbed by Ethans intrusion. It would later be known, that this was not her first rodeo, but it would be her last..

Logan Christine Meadows. Grandaughter, daughter, sister, aunt, cousin, beloved and dear sweet friend. Unforgettable. Always so kind. Here she lies. Forever more in peace in the arms of gods love, glory And embrace. 1957-1986.

He lowered the gun he had pointed at her. She smirked at him and said coyly, " Ain't you ever heard of knocking?"

He sighed, " I goddamn did."

" Oh... " she said softly. " Well im sorry I didn't hear ya knock. Anyways what brings you by doll?" Her eyes flashed defiantly.

He said nothing. And without flinching he retrained and pointed the high caliber revolver back up between her green eyes and blew her head clean from her shoulders.

Pieces of her skull fragments and brains splattered and smeared heartbreakingly along the sliding glass window above her still and lifeless husk.

Ethan hacked phlegm and cleared his throat gruffly. " Scuse me little lady." Ethan hissed. He through a pillow over what remained of her head and dumped the contents of her purse on the night stand deliberately and disrespectfully down nest to her.

The ghostly and somber, swaying and rippling of the blood congealed water bed made rogue waves as Ethan sat down and examined the room around him.

" Ugh.. fuckin shit.." He said looking up at the ceiling as he rubbed away the blood on his face by engulfing his head and neck into a dampened towel still fresh from an early morning after sex shower.

He then discarded it on the floor, at the foot of the murky, and doomed, sea grave swaying, high tide and ripple, of the couples new and expensive water bed.

That her fella had bought special for her.

That she loved with all of her heart......

Submitted: February 16, 2019

© Copyright 2022 Jacob Boyd Quesenberry. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:



Well, that was some weird ride of a story, but compulsive too.

Sat, February 16th, 2019 8:50pm


What do you mean by that? Compulsive.

Sat, February 16th, 2019 6:37pm


So maybe 'compulsive' wasn't the right word -- I meant something that I wanted to keep reading until the end.

Sun, February 17th, 2019 6:53pm


thank you!

Tue, February 19th, 2019 7:13pm

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