Hi There! I'm Kerry Morgan, founder of the board/group. I've been working on a story for quite a while now. It is a creepy creature mystery type. One of the things I'm excited about this story is it has local ties and lore. In short, Aliester Crowley once stay in Hebron I have taken that fact and ran with it. Just one of our local community members playing with the idea of our own "lake monster" sort of.
I have taken some liberties with the actual description of the area. This being a local group you may realize as you read that you can not in fact see the water or shore line from the General Store in Hebron. So I changed that to fit the story, as well as a couple other things. I some names may be recognized but they are used fictitiously and do not reflect anyone in particular. More represent their character until I get to that part in editing.
Ahhhh! Nervous! Here is the prologue and first chapter. I am looking for specific comments on issues with changing points of view, a scale from say 1 to 10 10 being pretty great- on the creepy factor. Is it effective or just not quite enough. As well as if flows well and is an interesting/creepy read. It is being edited so those types of corrections do not need to necessarily be listed.
Thanks For The Read!
(Work in Progress)
(Working Title) Aiwass of Pasquaney Bay (May change)
Sherriff Austin Travers brain took a minute to process what his eyes were seeing. Out on his regular morning patrol he was gifted with discovering the body of the local nut case. The sheer violence of the death clued him in. This wasn’t your run of the mill gang of hoodlums claiming Fealty and Love to Aiwass of Pasquaney Bay. Spirit Goddess conjured by the Sorcerer Allister Crowley with painted up ritual sacrifices; no one in his town could really do this. This wasn’t connected to any hoax. This was real.
A twisted grin crept across his face as he kicked the bloated face of Amy Crowley. Aleister’s Grandson and heir, father to Edward. “It wasn’t like Edde would mind, he’d probably dance upon the remains himself. No one talked about it, but everybody knew there was no love loss there.”
An eye socket burst with tiny spider like creatures racing across the decaying facial skin. Austin jumped away, his left foot jerked from underneath him. Several vines of milfoil wrapped around as his ankle keeping him down fighting against an unnatural tide.
The Sherriff struggled against the pull of the waves keeping the decomposing body bumping against his lower half. An ooze the color of rotting seaweed crept down the side of Amy’s skull, hair and mucus dripping upon his shoe, burning his flesh like acid. The more exposed flesh the slime tainted the more the spider crabs had to feed upon; infecting him with each pierce of fang or claw. As the tide pulsed so did his agony.
*
The morning Amy’s Crowley’s body was found, strangled within an invasive milfoil on the shore of Pasquaney Bay, Sherriff Austin Travers was taken to the emergency room having been infected by an unknown substance, also eating away at the body of Amy Crowley. Austin was in the Intensive Care Unit in critical condition at Lakes Region Mercy Hospital. His son Kelton, also working for the County Sherriff’s office, was on duty and hot on the case.
*
Edward Crowley startled at the notification sound buzzing through his back pocket. He was crouched at the shoreline of Alki Beach on Puget Sound in Seattle Washington. He was gathering samples of a toxic algae found to be killing the plant and wildlife creating a dangerous Red Tide. He carefully set down the vial and small stainless steel ladle exchanging them for his phone. Voicemail. There was only one number that would come through his security settings when he was out in the field.
Home.
He was now waiting for take-off deep in coach in the very last window seat. The view left much to be desired his gaze fell to several brochures stuffed haphazardly in the back of the chair in front of him. He reached for his home towns.
Just north of Concord New Hampshire, you will discover a natural paradise. A sleepy rural town called Pasquaney Bay; named for the pride and joy of sharing the great lake.
The photo stretched out the length of the brochures three folds. Sparkling clean glacier waters, gently rippling, casting reflections of bursting sunlight.
Centuries past, the local natives had named the lake, the place where birch bark is found for canoes, an appropriate name indeed.
His own memories mixed with the descriptions being advertised. Most of the lake front was surrounded by towering birch trees. Silvers shimmering with their golden-grey skinned bark, next to white as bright as the moon, their leafy greens offering dappled sunlight to the forest floors growing right to the water’s edge. Photographers from every corner of the world came for their once in a lifetime shot of the colors at sunset. Notoriety even touched the town as one of the great grandmothers in the area had been quite famous in her time.
Kaleen Adams was the great granddaughter of Evangeline Adams, astrologer extraordinaire. Her family’s story was as famous as her very best friend’s Eddie Crowley, but not quite so tainted. Or if so in a different manner. Evangeline was considered a jewel in the town’s history, where as poor Eddie’s family name was not spoken with pride. None of the town elders had ever used Eddie’s Grandfather’s name and reputation as a selling point for tourists.
The last town flyer and internet ad had featured a black and white photo of her Great Grandmother barely smiling to the camera.
“Come sit under the same stars which spoke to the queen of Wall Street, Evangeline Adams. Hear what they might have to whisper to you next to the peaceful waters of Pasquaney Bay.”
Eddie liked that one better. He shoved the brochure under his right leg and tried to drift off as the plane shook, racing down the runway lifting into the sky.
Chapter One
Kayleen Adams stood on her back porch sipping from a hot mug of tea. Her home sat across the street from the center of town which offered her a rich view of the crystal blue waters of Pasquaney Bay glittering in the sunlight. Her gaze was drawn away from the beauty, to a mother stepping out of the general store. Texting furiously on her smart phone, she hefted her hip to better grip her bag of groceries. Her crisp blond hair smashed to her head in the heat.
Tapply Thompson, otherwise known as Old Man Tap, the beloved town’s richest recluse rocked in a wooden chair on the other side of the swinging screen door the mother had exited from. His gnarled staff grinding a circle against the plank wooden floor. His light gray eyes scanned the lake, watching the scene before him silently. His scruffy stubble sticking out from his chin like little gray spikes, full dry lips worrying at the long wooden pipe extended from his mouth.
The mother glanced up and saw her son tossing rocks into the lake. Plunk… Plunk… The woman continued to meander her way down the little concrete steps leading to the sparse parking lot. She never looked up from the little blue screen as she dangled her keys at the car door lock, calling out to her son.
“Come on now Maxi! Time to go!”
The boy turned after throwing one last rock, he punched his hips with balled up fists, screaming back at his mother, “I told you not to call me that. I’m not a girl! It’s MaAHAHAHAHAH…”
His protest was cut off mid-sentence as a blood curdling cry erupted from his throat. His mother finally looked up from her phone in time to see her son being lifted into the air by long seaweed covered tentacles. She startled, screaming, and ran toward the water desperate to get to her son. Oranges from the discarded bag of groceries rolling after her on the hot asphalt. Max’s face was turning beat red under the pressure of the squeezing. The mother lifted her hands as the living slime raised her son higher as if claiming victory before dropping underneath the surface without creating a single ripple.
“Max!” the mother screamed as she crashed into the Bay, whipping back and forth, searching for her son.
Max was gone.
As the shrill sound of terror echoed through the Bay, Kayleen slammed her mug on the deck railing and took off for the lake.
“Of course everything awful would start up again. What a welcome home!” She cursed as she scanned the parking lot up to the steps of the store. Even as she ran she shivered. She was trying to help, but Old Man Tap rocked on, calm as calm could be.
Thanks for the read and I look forward to any thoughts!
Kerry
(Okay I started us out...)
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