online stories ii

8/6/2019 Online Stories II

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ONLINE STORIES COLLECTION

By C.M. Humphries

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O N L I N E S T O R I E S C O L L E C T I O N I I

C.M. humphries

2011 C.M. Humphries.All Rights Reserved.

www.cmhumphries.com


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Table of Contents

Never Taken . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . p.2

(originally published inBlood Moon Rising Magazine.)

Aftermath . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . p. 10

The After Effect . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . p. 11

Day and Night . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . p. 14

(originally published inFashion for Collapse.)
http://bloodmoonrisingmagazine.com/shortstory419.htmlhttp://bloodmoonrisingmagazine.com/shortstory419.htmlhttp://bloodmoonrisingmagazine.com/shortstory419.htmlhttp://www.fashionforcollapse.com/index/day-and-night/http://www.fashionforcollapse.com/index/day-and-night/http://www.fashionforcollapse.com/index/day-and-night/http://www.fashionforcollapse.com/index/day-and-night/http://bloodmoonrisingmagazine.com/shortstory419.html


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1

Never Taken

By C.M. Humphries

I.

Leaves crackled as a sudden gust of wind stirred the silence of Ravens Crook. On the

outskirts of the towna place not much more elegant than the rest of the town, but more

elegant nonethelessLindsey jogged on the weathered and fractured sidewalk, heading for

home. She paid no attention to the coming nightfall, nor the leaves blowing around in

small cyclones off to the side of the street. Fast beats and repetitive lyrics were the only

items on her mind as she exercised to the tunes coming from her MP3 player strapped to

her upper arm.

Flickering streetlamps guided her way, but did very little to display suspicious

happenings of individuals around her. From afar, one could see her dirty blonde ponytail

bouncing up and down along with her buttocks; her leg muscles tightening and revealing

bluish veins. Without a shadow of a doubt, her blood ran hot and sweet.

From a corner, one could discover Lindsey perspiring from her forehead and

around her neck. She was beautiful unlike most sweaty fitness junkies. Everything about

her looked so inviting, even despite a presumably salty, deep sweat.

Like an angel among mere mortals, Lindsey jogged closer and closer to her home

with the slightest sign of fatigue or exhaustion. In her hands were nothing; not even a

water bottle. She was well-trained to the point that she could head out for miles without


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breaking or desiring something to eliminate dehydration. Four miles today, although she

had not been the one to count.

From a splintering and collapsing porch, her mother called out, Lindsey, get your

worthless ass over here and finish dinner, as Lindsey crossed in front of her driveway.

Lindsey turned into her driveway and pressed the square stop button on her MP3

player, and then looked towards the front door of her house. Her parents house, for one day

she would be free. She had not heard a word her mother had said. Did you say something?

she asked.

Yes, I said something. Jesus Christ, you and that dumb gadget Brian got you. You

know, that boy is well-suited for you. Hes worthless too. Doesnt contribute to arr

socidity.

Leave him the hell alone, Lindsey called back. She thought he mother sounded

like an angry pirate. Or a native to sticks of Indiana. He loves me and one day well

leave this shit hole.

Yeah, just like me and your father, Lindseys mother said as she turned to head

back into the house.

Lindsey shook her head as she headed up onto the porch. She rubbed her hand

across her head and removed some of the greasy sweat that had built up. Bitch, she

muttered.


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Inside of Lindseys home was what anyone could expect from looking at the

outside. Worn furniture, an antiquated TV, the smell of burnt meatloaf and body odor.

What topped it all off was her family. John, her father, was a man in his late forties who

had never achieved anything in his life. For years he had switched between one name-tag

job to another, and for awhile, he found himself loving unemployment. Then, his nagging

wife made him get off his cottage cheese rear end and pick up a mechanic job. Well, he

swept the garages at night and cleaned everything including the fecal matter on the toilet

seats. As Lindsey entered, John remained on a ripped couch, beer in his left hand, remote

in his right.

There she is, he muttered as he eyed up a grease stain on his flannel jacket. I

have no idea where you got yer looks frem, but it sher as hell wasnt yer mom.

I can hear you, his wife called from the kitchen. I wouldnt look like this if

youd just git a real job somewhere, one dat can actually pay for a treadmill.

Hell, woman, John replied while keeping an eye on his daughter, youd need a

fuckin surgery or two ta remove all yer gut. Cmon, Jan, you wouldnt even use a

goddamn tread.

Um, Im just going to go upstairs now, Lindsey said as her legs turned towards an

unstable staircase.

The hell if you arr, Jan called from the kitchen. I slaved all over this food and

yer gonna eat it. It makes me sick to see how skinny you are.


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John laughed and grabbed his hair. Its only because yer mother never looked as

good as you. Wish you werent my daughter. He chortled some more.

Lindsey gagged and darted for the staircase just as Jan came around the corner with

a black dog that refused to walk. Instead, it just dragged behind Jan, on a leash, as it was

brought to the front door. Not so fast, young lady, Jan said to Lindsey. Take Rufus

for a squat.

Really? Lindsey said. Are you serious? I need to shower, Im upstairs, and

youre there with Rufus in front of the door.

Now, Jan repeated as she let the chain leash fall from her hands to the floor.

Lindsey just stared at it. He mother walked backed into the kitchen. Even from outside

the doors window one could see her resentment.

Rufus stood up for a moment and the moved to a squatting position.

Oh no, Lindsey cried out as she sprinted towards her dog, grabbed the leash, and

walked Rufus outside. Jesus H. Christ, she muttered through grinding teeth as she

brought Rufus to the side lot.

From the porch anyone could admire Lindsey. She was like a white trash

Cinderella. Or, was Cinderella white trash to begin with?

God damn it, one could hear Lindsey say from her backside.

As the dog relieved itselfin the neighbors yard, a cold chill ran across Lindseys

shoulders, she dropped the chain and looked behind her. Nothing. Weird, she thought


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aloud. Another strong gust passed her by and the leafless trees waved goodbye as she

trotted back inside.

Lindsey toyed around with a burnt chunk of something on her plate. Minus a bite, the

square of meatloaf was uneaten. Jan was starting to notice her daughters lack of appetite.

My food not good enough fer ya?Jan asked as she looked around the table. Or

arr ya just starving yerself again like those movie stars you like so much. Normal people

just aint good enough fer you?

Lindsey ignored her mother and pushed her plate to the side. She scooted her chair

away from the table and then left the kitchen.

See what you gone and done? John asked his wife. You sher arr stupid

sometimes.

Oh yeah? Jan replied. Im stupid? Guess what she axed me earlier? Huh? Jist

axe!

What did she ask you earlier?John stared at his food. This does taste like shit.

I dont blame her.

Its just fine! Anyway, she axed me if she could go ta schoolcal-ledge. Huh?

Now whos the dumb one? She doesnt need to go to no freakin scam-school, now does

she?


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John fought with a section of the meatloaf he had placed in his mouth. Jan stared

him down. Oh, what da hell you botherin me fer, anway? I dont give a damn if she

goes to some school. Maybe, she deserve ta.

She doesnt deserve a goddamn thing, Jan said as she threw her plate against the

wall. Meat and ketchup littered the yellow-stained walls and ran to the floor where Rufus

was impatiently waiting. We cant even aff-ford no school fer her.

Not if you keep breaking arr shit, we cant.

Lindsey sagged against the back wall of her closet-sized room, sobbing. How could her

mother be so malevolent towards her own daughter? Man, how she just wanted to get her

things and go. But, she knew she would never make it far. Her parents had no money, so

neither did she. She felt like an outcast and was treated all the same. Nevertheless, she

had always found strength and never given up.

Lindsey stood up, turned around, and peered out of the window. Somewhere out

there had to be someone else just like, waiting just like her for a shot at something more.

Even mediocrity seemed redeeming.

Then, like a ghost leering around the corners of a nightmarish haunted house,

Lindsay saw a broad figure in the reflection on the glass. The dark outside world made her

window like a mirror. A lump built in her throat and her lips began to quiver.

Dad? Lindsey began to wonder


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--In one fell swoop, Lindsey turned around to meet the arms of a faceless stranger

all before being grabbed, swung, and thrown out of her closed window. The world spun.

And with a giant thud, Lindsey met with her gravel driveway as shards of glass rained

down from her room. The world grew black as the stranger watched from her window

while she faded away.

II.

Her eyelids stuck together as though glued. Lindsey fought to open her eyes. The more

she fought, the more it hurt. A sharp pain shot across her face as she gave it one more

attempt. A quick squirt of blood spilled along the cement floor in front of her,

underneath a small, dangling light. Some of it ran down her face.

While the blood was certainly startling, the sight before Lindsey was much, much

worse. In a circle, five other young women were strapped to chairseach one of them

with their eyes clothes or dried blood along their cheeks. Clone-like. Staples sealed their

mouths shut. Metal claps pressed their wrists against armrests.

Ohmy god, Lindsey wanted to scream before realizing that, she too, had her

mouth sealed shut. She wanted to cry, but her eyes burned too much.

She wiggled her lips around. Thank goodness, she thought. She felt a sticky cloth

across her lips; not a steel plate. Duct tape, she told herself.

Blop. Drip. The subtle dripping of water from a busted pipe suggested to Lindsey

that she was in a basement.


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Then there was the stranger. He wore a plain, white flesh-colored mask that bared

no emotion. He was tall and fit. Such a man could very well flip a SUV on his own,

which would make tearing a human being in half much simpler and much less grueling.

He walked towards the girl closest to him, a weak light revealing only

indistinguishable sections of his upper body. His face remained prominent, however. He

took a deep breath and exhaled along the girls neck. Out of the five, this girl looked the

closest to Lindsey. He said, Do you love someone?

The girl shook herself in the chair as if she was being electrocuted. His question

alone brought misery and pain to the girl.

He asked the question again, and she still didnt answer. The stranger pulled a large

pocket knife from his right pocked and brought out the blade. He pressed it against her

bottom eyelid. Though she could not see, the girl obviously felt the presence of the knife,

for she squirmed and mumbled different pleads for her life.

Do you love someone? he asked again, his voice deep and scratchy.

At another failed response, the stranger ran the knife against the bottom of her eye

and cut out the flesh. Underneath the plate, Lindsey could still hear her scream.

Answer me! he demanded. Without giving her enough time to respond, the

stranger whipped the knife along her throat. A monsoon of blood stained the girls white

shirt and before long, her head dangling off the side of her neck, holding onto a few bones

and veins as the flesh started to rip as though perforated.


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The stranger walked over to the next girl and did the same. She even tried to

answer.

It wasnt before long that Lindsey was one girl away from being dead.

And you? the stranger said to the girl.

This girls eyes were wide open. Her entire face quivered and her body went

through convulsions. Yes, the managed to squeak out from behind the plate.

The stranger grabbed the side of the metal and ripped it off of the girls face.

Blood-covered screws and lumps of flesh fell to the floor. What? he asked.

The girl spat out a pool of blood and struggled to form words with her deteriorated

lips.

Pressing the knife against the corner of her left eye, the stranger demanded a more

proper answer. The girl only squealed.

The eye rolled towards Lindsey as the stranger made his way along. Looking over

at the girl, Lindsey discovered that the stranger had not killed everyone. In fact, two of

the girls were only injured, though they might soon die from blood loss.

Lindsey glanced back over at the stranger. He vanished.


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10

AftermathBy C.M. Humphries

Starlight pierces through a shattered window; reveals the trailers living room.

Crickets chirp outside. Inside: shivering. On the couch lies a woman, kitchen knife

slipping from her hand. A mans sprawled out below, bat at his side. In the corner, a little

girl hunches over a handgun with closed eyes.


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11

The After Effect

By C.M. Humphries

10AM flashes on the face of her cell phone rather quickly, and Missy finds herself frozen

in front of the clinic. A bone-chilling drizzle spits from above. For some reason, the rain

feels colder than ever. She shivers before she can even take a step, meaning she nearly

convulses standing up.

The first step stretches out an eternity like a bad nightmare. Her legs, though the

kind of petite most young women desire, feel like they weigh more than her little hybrid

car. She meanders towards the vehicle, worried that she has lost her keys. With that in

mind, she searches her purse.

Rummaging through make-up kits, assorted pens, and various things she once

considered necessary, Missy struggles to locate her car keys. With her free hand, she pats

her jeans. They are damp and start clinging to her legs, which is useful for checking

pockets. Despite the aid of the rain and her persistence, she fails to locate her keys.

Switching her hands, Missy begins to search the purse again. Its not a knock-off; no one

dared to even insist that. Said the purse was classy.

Cling cling. She hears the clatter of keys and panics when she cannot find them

Ah ha! They were in her hands all along.My god, she tells herself.


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Her husband stares at the pages for a long time. His feels his face growing warmer.

His gag reflex teases him. His stomach churns. The slips fall out of his hands and onto the

expensive, oak flooring. Missy picked out the flooring. Said it was classy.


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14

Day and Night

By C.M. Humphries

For awhile I think Ill never wake. Every night, for as long as I can remember since

Jen was taken away, Ive ended upin the same town square. Im never sure where

exactly, but I know it might be somewhere in Lovington, the second-most crime-

ridden town of Chase County. No lie there. They have less crime than Ravens

Crook, Chase County, but in my night terrors, its all the same. Something always

lurks behind me, an ominous presence breathing down my neck.

I travel the flooded streets of this town with Jen at my side, window-

shopping in front of bakeries, pawnshops, and jewelry shops. The jewelry stores

usually capture her attention, and consequently mine, but we both know its beyond

our reach. For the most part, we cant even afford the pawned off jewelry. But this

evening feels different than the rest and closer to being reality.

This is the evening that I had a little to spare, so we bypass the bakeries and

pawnshops. Instead, we enter the real deal: Ralphs Jewelers, home of unique cut

diamonds rings and pearl necklaces. Despite their commercial claim, they are almost

the same as the other pawnshops, but theres prestige to a jeweler, right?


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*

Then I really wake up to the gray world, where Im once again in a dark living

room. If I wouldve known Id pass out like that again, I wouldve have struggled up

the stairs, to my bedroom. Hell, I knew. I just hoped I wouldnt pass out.

The night terrors have become too much to keep enduring. The quivers, the

cold sweats. I cant do it anymore.

In a haze, I lean over towards my cell phone on the end table. The touch

screen reads 8:04AM. No, I mean 4:08 in the morning. Sometimes I do that.

Shit, I mutter. I never want to sleep, yet even when I succumb to the

sensation, I receive or steal no more than ten winks, or about five fence-jumping

sheep.

I cant take it.

I hear something tap and look at the clock again. Why cant I figure things

out? Its 8:04 for sure.

Jumping out of my seat, I rush to the blinds and peer out. Contrary to my

first instinct, there is no one out there; no UPS or FED-EX truck. Nada.


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Even with the lack of delivery men, I scurry to the front door, like a child

rushing to a Christmas tree littered with presents on Christmas Day. That was the

plan for our child: spoil the shit out of him or her.

Hesitant, I reach for the door knob. The turn. The gasp. The click. I rip the

door open, slamming it against the front wall, and I allow a blue sky to have a peek

of my face for a few seconds. Its hard to bear much of the world these days. It

sickens me that everything still moves and still goes on, despite my life feeling static.

Theres no one at the door, though. There never is. However, a small

package sits at my feet, addressed to my wife.

Why would anyone do this to me?

I step outside and breathe in the fresh air coming in from the lake. Glancing

around, I can see an elderly woman strolling around the block with some children. I

bet those are her grandchildren. There are also two girls on bikes and a group of

friends heading down towards the beach.

I cant remember the last time I enjoyed living at a lake. Disappointed, I turn

around and stare at the box again. I feel the need to open it.

And I think Ive made a great mistake once I rip away the masking tape.

How?


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Knowing nothing better to do, I pull apart the box and find myself staring at

cotton. Just a necklace box. Empty. I feel like theres something to it, a greater

meaning of sorts. Maybe I just cant see it, so I remain outside, clutching the case

close to my chest, and I observe life passing me by.

I notice a strange thing. Clouds look like clouds, not animals. And the streets

are nothing more than pavement. The world holds no analogy or metaphor.

Only during nights do these things morph into flooded dark streets and the

inviting jewelers. Awake the world is always constant and brighter like a sunset in

the country. And all this means nothing to me compared to the empty box in my

hands.

www.cmhumphries.com

tweet: @1cmhumphries
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