Rose Red, Snow White “The Snowman” Excerpt (Draft)

(Play Sound)

 

Part I

            It’s your fault…

I awoke with a shudder, gasping as if I had been drowning. Cold dampness, like morning dew, covered my goose flesh skin. I buried my face in my hands to better gather myself. There was a slight ache on the side of my neck.

               It’s your fault

I shot up once again with my head on a swivel. From left to right, the room was clear of anyone else, but I was sure that I had heard someone calling out to me. It was the same familiar tone I had heard that pulled me from the blackened void. The same voice I heard beckoning me back to reality. I was drenched with sweat, and the world felt unbalanced.

Forcing myself to my feet, I made my way to the kitchen for a glass of water and then upstairs to the master bathroom. The cabin was dark with only the dying embers of the fireplace lighting my surroundings.  The day had gone, and the night had come. How I question myself, how had I slept the day away? I turned the shower on and ran it until billows of steam were visible, I swallowed two of Kass aspirins she kelp behind the bathroom mirror and climbed in.

My head was swimming with thoughts, I had no recollection of being tired or fatigued. What I could piece back together was that there was breakfast, chess… and the sting of something attacking my neck. I rubbed the sore area in contemplation of all that had happened. The hot water felt soothing and refreshing to ache on my neck, and the bruise on my arm. The injury I seemed to have gotten from my attack, no I did it to myself. No ghost or Freddy Krueger just rough sleeping, that’s all.

Part II

By the time I stepped out the shower the aspirin had started to kick into effect. The pain almost felt nonexistence now.  The night was dead silent, the low crackle of the fireplace downstairs could be heard. Getting dressed, I realized I had not heard or seen from Kassidy since I woke, nor did I hear anything from Sullivan.

“Babe!” I called out, “Kass you here?”

I checked my pockets for my cellphone, nothing. I then walked down back into the living room rechecking the coffee table, nothing, and then the couch still zilch. Dropping to my knees, I search the floors thinking in my sleep it might have fallen.

“Babe have you seen my cellphone?” continued silence.

“Kass?!” I sat up listening for any kind of movement. “Sullivan?!” Stillness.

Was I alone? If so, where could they have gone? Making my way back to my feet I walked over to the light switch on the wall near the front door. I flipped it once, and the cabin lights filled the room.

Checking the front door, I noticed it was unlocked, opening it I become aware of just how silent the night really was; There was a clearing in the clouds, with the moon shining high up into the night like a nocturnal sun. My eyes caught a set of tracks leading from the cabin to the dark shadows of the protected forest. Could the tow truck had come as they said they would for Sullivan aid and had Kassidy gone to accompany him and if so, why without me? With closer inspection, I could tell that these were not human footprints but those of an animal, a raccoon maybe.

I sighed walking back, it was very much unlike for her to just leave with a stranger without my knowing. Stepping back into the cabin I looked around for my cellphone some more. Maybe she had left a text or phone call. Going back to the couch again I sifted around the cushion, and sure enough, there was no sign of my device.

Part III

There was a distance rumble, and the lights went out. “Shit!” I exclaimed. If it wasn’t already bad enough that I couldn’t find my phone I was now fumbling in the dark. I held my hands out in front of me feeling my way around until I was back near the light switch next to the front door. I flipped the switch once, no reaction, I then flicked it a few more times hoping something other than black would occur, only to be disappointed. I then shuffled my way through the dark until I was in the kitchen. Searching the drawers for a flashlight, I thought I could go out to the garage and check to make sure that the circuit breaker just hasn’t been tripped again. Rummaging around in the drawers I felt nothing except the familiar shapes of spoons, forks and other miscellaneous kitchen items, but no flashlight.

Standing there in the dark I thought of when I previously laid hands on it since we been here at the cabin.  Ah, that’s right, I remember now. The last I used it was around the first night we arrived, and the lights had gone out then because of the breaker trip.

I went for the kitchen door that led to the garage, feeling around I knew that the breaker panel was just next to the door. I felt a top of the box, and sure enough, it was there, the flashlight was right where I had left it. I smiled triumphantly while flipping the switch on its handle, the light while blinding at first, was a slight beacon of joy from blackness. Checking the breaker, it was indeed flipped left when it should have been right. Switching it back into its proper position the cabin again lit up like a Christmas tree. I closed it, turned off the flashlight, and headed back into the kitchen closing the door behind me.

Part IV

I need to find my phone, I muttered to myself. The morning had turned to night, and the storm had long settled. My wife has been gone with a complete stranger for no telling how long, I wasn’t even sure of the time she had left with him, and I had no way of calling her to make sure she was okay. I went upstairs to see if maybe, somehow it was upstairs. There was another rumble, this one more mechanical sounding. Before I could make it halfway up the lights again went out, I then heard the kitchen door to the garage creek open.

“Hello?” I inquired. “Baby is that you? You made it back?” nothing but silence. I turned on the flashlight, illuminating dark sections of the cabin. Carefully I went back downstairs and into the kitchen. The cone of the flashlight shined on the kitchen garage door slightly ajar. I was somewhat, no I was a hundred percent positive that I had closed the door behind me when I came back in. Carefully I made my over to the door, I could see faint clouds of my own breath as I neared the door. I quickly examined door then stepped into the garage, that’s when I noticed that the carport entrance was opened. It was dark outside, only the contrast of the snow giving any sort of depth to the world. Bewildered and slightly frighten I swung open the breaker panel and flipped the power switch back on. For the third time the cabin lit up, with the power back on I maneuvered the garage door switch down. There was a rumble, the same mechanical thunder I heard just before the power had gone out.

The moon peered from beyond the clouds lighting the lush white floor. As the garage door closed, I had taken notice of something in the snow, patterns that had disrupted the neatness of the bleached earth. Footprints, there were human footprints in the snow. Just a single set leading from the garage to somewhere outside. Had they been there before? I wondered. Curiously I stopped the door from closing midway, the tracks seemed to have led all the way to the back where the lake was.

I followed them tangled in thoughts of just who these belonged too. The clouds blinded the light of the moon like they do the sun on a perfect spring or summer afternoon. The world was just black and white, removing the flashlight from my pocket. I shinned it on the patterned tracks. Each step beneath my feet disturbing the quiet, there was a rustle somewhere out in the blackened void. The wind started to whisper as if the night was trying to warn me of something dark and foreboding. Ignoring it I continued, then before I could make another stepped, I stopped. Someone was standing between me and the lake. They were wearing white and had long black hair that seemed to drift in the wind.

“Kass?” I called out inquisitively. For a split second, I could have sworn I heard the person say something, but I was even more sure that it was the wind. There was something wrong with this picture, every instinctual nerve in my body had that flight or fight sense going, and it was leaning heavily on the flight aspect. “Kassidy, you okay? Babe, can you hear me?” Still, there was no answer. Against my better judgment I forced myself to step closer, and close, and closer until I was just close enough to honestly see what I did not want to see. My eyes widen, I could feel my very insides plummet to a depth of fear and despair I’ve never had to endure since the nights of those incidents.

As the clouds again moved giving light back to the night, it was all to clear of what I was seeing before me now. This was a snowman, a snowman with the severed head of someone I cared for. The wind whispered,

               It’s your fault…

©Kwamè “Amir” H.

Facebook.com/sexwithluma

http://www.lunararcgate.com

Click Here to help support me in funding my goal of starting a comic book

You can also purchase my first self-published anthology of poems and erotic shorts from Amazon.

 

Are you Participating in #Nanowrimo?

Today marks day three of National Novel Writing Month! I’ve already started the process of working on my first novel, and when I tell you I’m already at a point of “What to do next” in a chapter/scene I’m not even kidding! Already at 11k plus but I’m trying to reach that 50k. I am powering through it even though the blood is pouring from my head.

How are you fairing though? what are some techniques you use to get over a writing bump? Have you met with any challenges?

 

Blank Canvas

Sometimes
For most people writing and art is an escape from the personal demons we all deal with. we might not find salvation in people that we talk to but in something that never speaks but we can still pour our emotion onto. A blank page can be very therapeutic because it will understand the chaotic thoughts in our heads.

Beautiful Words

Beautiful words
Writers are manipulators of reality. They are able to form and articulate various worlds and events for the reader’s entertainment. Even if it means digging into the darkest part of their minds, they create both horrors that make even adults fear the things that go bump in the night or craft tales of innocent wonders for children. Writers are a special breed of people. So the next time you come across an aspiring writer of any caliber, please if their work did something for you, made you think, visualize or anything at all let them know and share their work.

On The Edge of It All

"On The Edge Of It All" A Poem by Amir H.
We all go through something, that constant feeling of Falling into an endless abyss, but no matter how bottomless it may feel there is an end to it all. Even the Universe has an end. One day, just one day we’ll open our eyes before we hit the ground.

Lunar Petal 14

Can you remind me to stay humble?

Remind me that this planet has gravity

You were the sweetest girl when we were younger,

as we got older and older,

I understood just how amazing you were to my sanity

Your beauty is one of Gods greatest creation,

A living sculpture painted with divine colors,

Clarity is a state of mind,

And you’re that first sip of coffee in the morning,

Even through droughts, famine, and natural catastrophes

You’re the grace and shelter when it’s storming,

You’re all that I would ever need.

Chapter 7 (Final pt.)

“I’ve got yooooouuu~ under my skin.” Henry hummed to himself as he finished shaving the undesirables from the meat.

“This is an art form you don’t see anymore.” in my stroll down memory lane I hadn’t notice someone else was standing in attendance of Henry at work.

“Excuse me?”

“The amount of skill it takes to do his job took years to cultivate”

“I’m not following. If you’re talking about Henry here… I’m sure it doesn’t take that much to cut up a bunch of meat”, I was already over this conversation, but Henry had disappeared into the freezer and I still needed my salmon.

“The term butcher has been misused for years. In earlier times, the butcher was revered. Respected. His ability to navigate flesh, bone, muscle to present an item pleasing enough to the masses to go home and subsequently destroy… it’s art. He is a sculptor with a product we consume without reverence or appreciation.”

“Well, that’s one way to think about it. If I decided to think about it that is.” I moved to turn my cart to leave just as Henry made his reappearance. His deep vocals breaking up this awkward encounter.

“How can I help you two?”

“We aren’t together, but I need 6 salmon filets. The skin on and deboned, please. I also need 2 pounds of crab meat.” Henry the butcher left to put my order together and I was left alone with the stranger again.

“I understand your disinterest. You’ll have to forgive me. It’s a job hazard. I’m in plastics. Plastic Surgery I mean.”

“What would a cosmetic surgeon be doing up here in the mountains?”

“I have to spend my salary somehow. These cabins are perfect to find solitude from the hustle and bustle of Atlanta and my own private practice. I just purchased an estate on the other side of the lake; a few acres where I can relax. I’m Sullivan Grey.”

“Nero. Nero Lawton, my wife Kassidy is over by the fair-trade coffee. We inherit our cabin, just west of the lake.”

“Aye yes, that lovely cabin that sits just on the lake. The sunsets paint it exquisitely with an amber-like glow.”

“Um… yea, my wife’s grandmother loved how the sun would set on the horizon between the break in the tree line.” I was never one to just carry on a conversation with strangers unless I absolutely had too but here I was chatting it up. There was something about this man, that just made the hairs on my neck stand up, it was his eyes. In the youth of my years, my Oldman would tell me that the windows to a person soul were there eyes. If you look close enough you could see all you needed to know before they even uttered a word. The brown tint of his windows hid something that just didn’t sit all that well with me.

“My wife too fell in love with that scenery as a child and when her grandparent’s past; the home was handed down to her.”

Henry the butcher approached just in time to save me from this encounter. Another moment and I would have found a reason to walk away, as politely as I could of course. With my fillets in hand, I quickly took my leave to find Kassidy.

***

“Did yer need anything?” Henry spoke in a thick southern accent.

“I think I’ve found what I’ve been looking for, Henry, thank you.”

Nero Lawton. Watching him disappear into another aisle I knew I had finally found the clay I needed to mold my masterpiece. Educating Nero will be my Moonlight Sonata.

Chapter 7 (Pt.II)

The butcher was a hefty fellow, years of dissecting animals for human consumption had given this man a very brawny physique. You could see the power in his arms as the cleaver in his hand was going to work on the back leg or the “round” as the meat cutters would call it, of a steer. Under the sweat and blood of his black leather apron was the letters H.E.N.R and a faded Y, Henry, that must have been his name. I was willing to bet my last dollar that the little town folks here called him Henry the Butcher as if that was his god given the last name. It sounded more like the name of a serial killer from a slasher film.

As Henry the butcher worked, he had the radio going, the classic tune of Frank Sinatra under my skin came soothing through the air. I remembered back as a child my father would play his guitar at my mom’s bedside. In his younger year, pop’s use to sing and play in a blues band, it was how they met, my mom would tell. One of her favorite songs she just loved to hear him sing and play was Frank Sinatra, “I’ve got you under my skin”. Even when he thought she would be tired of it he always asked, “What do you want to hear Baby?” With lips as pale as the moon mom would smile; using all her strength mom would reply in a raspy whisper “Play our song.”. While sick and weak in that cold room he would play that song so soulfully that even the doctors and nurses thought it would somehow bless her with some type of miracle.

Chapter 7 (Pt. I)

The store had a traditional style, the type of look city fresh markets tries to imitate with its wholesome fruits and veggies in wooden crates stacked in the middle of the aisles. Even though I knew it would annoy her I decided to get started on the shopping, grabbing a pushcart. Kassidy had a knack for getting caught in conversation in what seemed to be with no end, I bore easily of extended banter that lacks any interest to me. I know this to be selfish, hell maybe even childish at times but I’m honest and will politely excuse myself so that I would not let the lack of care creep across my face.

Rummaging through the seasoning of the spices aisle, I picked just what I needed for tonight’s dinner. This evening supper would be a special one, Crispy salmon, with crushed new potatoes, Kassidy’s favorite meal. It was the initial dish that impressed her with on our first date, that eventually led to other dates and an “I Do”. At that time between student loans and bills, I barely could afford the mainstream stigma of a first date. Yet fortunately for me, I was taught some very useful skills as a young single man still making his way into the world. After the passing of my mother at an early age my best friend mom filled the role of “Mother” for me. Mrs. Flow could damn near cook any and everything you desired. Her cooking was so good it’ll have you wanting her to open a restaurant just so you could enjoy her meals whenever.

Looking over everything in the cart, I had just about everything I needed for tonight and the rest of the week. The only thing I was missing was the actual salmon itself.