Here is just a hint of what I’ve been playing with today. It is a short story that I’m writing. Hope to post the rest of it soon and get your feedback!


Macabre, Montana would be unknown to the world if it were not for one single fact. The town of twenty-three hundred people owes it’s one shred of infamy to the fact that novelist Kayhill Ellenwood has forever called it his home.
Much like the town in which he has always lived, Mr. Ellenwood is famous for only one thing. A single novel, Little Things, was published nearly twenty-five years ago. It tells the tale of a young girl named Little and her battle to save her father from demons she calls the “Things”. It was the last story destined to escape Mr. Ellenwood’s mind, for the time since its first printing has not been kind. But this is not due to a lack of effort and try, for the old man forever sits locked away in the office of his humble home. The pounding of his fingers upon the typewriter keys dance beat for beat with the footsteps of his granddaughter, Anna, running through the snow not but a few miles away.
The old man’s daughter and the young girl’s mother died in a car crash exactly one year ago. Solemn anniversaries summon strange happenings.
Anna’s hot breath melts the snowflakes that fall in between the aspen trees through which she runs.
“Goat tie the bitch!” The orders come from Jazlyn McSpade, a girl local children speculate was raised by wolverines. Her rabid personality is masked by a face that brainwashes all young boys into doing her bidding.
Two such minions are Stuart Bozeman and Colton Barlow. The boys howl like wolves as they hunt through the forrest. But they have not the honor of the wolf. They have the depravity of dogs. Both run with ropes spinning over their cowboy hat clad heads. The sound of the ghostly twirl heightens the pressure of Anna’s blood.
Hot fear and cold wind turn Anna’s dimpled cheeks crimson red. She begins to see her grandfather’s house peek through through the maze of the white and black aspen eyes. The cold and indifferent gazes watch her flee just as they have done so many times before. The trees cannot offer her help, but they do make her feel less alone. They act as witnesses to the coming cruelty.
The strike of the first rope misses Anna’s head. But the strike of the second latches onto her legs. Her face falls to meet a wicked pillow of frozen snow as the giggles of Jazlyn McSpade echo through the trunks of the watchful trees.
“Get her up.” Jazlyn watches the boys do her bidding.
Anna is ripped up to her feet. She says nothing. The young girl chooses to use her strength to fight rather than waste it on useless pleas for freedom.
“Hold her still!” Jazlyn turns from her dogs to look into the brown eyes of her prey. “Why do you always run?”
Anna takes aim at Jazlyn’s face and fires.
Jazlyn screams as the spit hits her between her cold blue eyes. Vengeance comes in the form a violent slap. “You know what today is?”
Anna gives no answer. Her voice is replaced by silent seething as she strains against the boys’ combined might.
Jazlyn grabs Anna’s throat and whispers the answer to her own question. “Today is the day that you’re drunken fuck of a mom killed my dad.” Jazlyn raises her fist. “Happy Anniversary.”
The blast of a shotgun explodes through the forest. All turn to face its epicenter.
Kayhill Ellenwood’s grizzly hands clutch his still smoking gun while his mouth growls forth a cold, dead, and merciless order. “Let her go.”



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