Year: 2023

Desolation Nexus: Rasputin's Revenge

by Lance J. Gosnell, posted in Short Stories

Desolation Nexus

Written By: Lance J. Gosnell

Anthony Kaufman wiped the grease from his calloused hands and sighed. Another long day fixing transmissions and replacing mufflers at his auto shop in small-town Ohio. He locked up for the night, eager to get home to his wife and kids. 

As he pulled into the driveway, he noticed his sister Natalia’s car parked outside. Strange, he thought, Natalia was supposed to be in Russia for a few more weeks. Anthony walked inside to find Natalia sitting silently on the couch, clasping a large golden necklace hanging around her neck. 

“Nat, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Russia,” Anthony said. Natalia looked up at him with a vacant stare. “Russia…yes, I was in Russia…” she muttered. Anthony sat down next to her with concern. “What’s going on? Why are you back so soon?” 

Natalia grasped the necklace tighter. “This necklace, it holds such power. I must keep it safe.” Anthony looked closer at the intricate necklace, which seemed to almost glow and pulse with a strange energy. He had never seen anything like it.

“Power? What do you mean? Natalia, you’re not making any sense,” Anthony said, growing more worried. Natalia suddenly became animated and gripped his arm forcefully. “Don’t you see? This necklace contains the essence of Rasputin! His power flows through me now. I must spread his influence.”

Anthony reeled back in shock. Rasputin? The mad monk of Russia who somehow just wouldn’t die? He thought it was just myth, but the wild look in his sister’s eyes told him something was very wrong. 

Over the next few days, Natalia grew more withdrawn and paranoid, spending hours in a trance-like state clutching the necklace. Anthony knew he had to learn more about this jewelry and its connection to Rasputin. 

His search led him to Dr. Elena Petrova, a Russian historian living in the States. Elena confirmed his worst fears: the necklace did indeed contain a fragment of Rasputin’s dark essence. Somehow his followers had resurrected him through it, and he was using Natalia to channel his manipulative powers and sow discord.

“If Rasputin extends his reach, the consequences could be catastrophic,” Elena warned. “You and your sister are our only hope of stopping him.”

Anthony struggled to wrap his mind around Elena’s revelations, but he knew he had to rescue his sister from Rasputin’s clutches. As Elena researched a way to destroy the necklace, Anthony worked tirelessly to break its hypnotic spell over Natalia. 

After weeks of effort, Anthony finally got through to his sister. As if waking from a nightmare, Natalia released the necklace and collapsed into her brother’s arms, horrified by what she had almost become.

“I’m so sorry, Anthony. His whispers were everywhere, driving me to madness,” she cried.

“It’s okay, Nat. We’ll stop him together,” Anthony reassured.

Elena had discovered an ancient ritual that could banish Rasputin’s essence back to the depths. She met Anthony and Natalia in Moscow beneath the ruins of an old church. The three of them joined hands, chanting the ritual’s words as Elena burned sage and candles around the necklace.

Suddenly, a violent wind whipped through the ruins, extinguishing the candles. Rasputin’s maniacal laugh echoed around them as an unnatural darkness engulfed the church. 

“You fools think you can banish me so easily?” Rasputin’s disembodied voice sneered. “I am beyond your pathetic rituals. Natalia was merely the first to fall under my sway!”

Shadowy tendrils emerged from the necklace, shooting toward the three. Rasputin’s influence was spreading, just as Elena predicted. Anthony’s hands trembled, but he squeezed them tighter, steeling his nerves. 

“Your lies end here, Rasputin,” Anthony shouted over the wind. “You have no power over us!”

He ripped the necklace from the ground and smashed it with all his strength. An unearthly howl filled the church as brilliant light burst from the shattered pendant, dissolving the darkness. 

When the dust settled, Rasputin’s essence had vanished. Natalia embraced her brother, tears of joy in her eyes. “Anthony, you did it! Your love and courage saved us.”

Elena placed a hand on his shoulder. “Because of you both, the world is safe from Rasputin’s manipulation.”

As they left the church, the first rays of dawn peeked over Moscow’s skyline. Anthony took a deep breath, grateful for the light after so much darkness. He may have been just a simple mechanic, but sometimes, unsung heroes can make all the difference.

A Haunting at the Shinn Farm

by Lance J. Gosnell, posted in Short Stories

A Haunting at the Shinn Farm
Inspired by the Mena Poltergeist
Written By:  Lance J.  Gosnell

In the quiet corners of Mena, Arkansas, a forgotten tale of strangeness and unease resides within the history of the Shinn farm. The farm’s exact location may have slipped into obscurity since its sale in the early 1960s, but whispers of eerie happenings continue to weave their way through time. Midsouth Paranormal, a dedicated team led by retired cop Moses Hudson, is determined to unearth the elusive remnants of the farm and expose the enigmatic forces at play.

Guided by fragmented accounts and inspired by local legends, the members of Midsouth Paranormal venture into the remote woods of Mena. With each step, cameras in hand and a fervent curiosity in their hearts, they document their journey, capturing every moment of suspense and discovery.

Amidst the dense foliage and the shifting shadows, the investigators begin to encounter signs that suggest they are edging closer to the truth. Whispers of an ancient Indian burial ground, believed to underlie the very foundation of the Shinn farmhouse, cast a chilling pall over their mission. An unsettling notion takes root: could the restless spirits of the past be roused by the intrusion upon their sacred resting place?

While the search proves challenging, the team is bolstered by their determination to unravel the farm’s mysteries. However, Midsouth Paranormal harbors a member whose motivations run deeper than curiosity alone. Moses Hudson, a retired cop who has ventured into the realm of the paranormal, finds himself haunted by a personal mission that transcends the supernatural.

Moses, once a dedicated police officer, has since channeled his skills into investigating the unknown, driven by an unyielding desire to connect with his trans son. Tragically, Moses’ son took his own life as a result of transphobic bullying and the grip of depression. His fervent hope is to unlock the secrets of the paranormal world and use its power to bring his son back to the world of the living, to rewrite the tragic ending that transpired due to discrimination and despair.

As nights pass and the campfire’s glow dances upon the edge of the woods, the unease deepens. Unexplainable rustlings, ghostly whispers, and perplexing apparitions begin to haunt Midsouth Paranormal’s journey. Their equipment falters, recordings capture anomalies, and skepticism crumbles before the mounting evidence. 

Through the team’s relentless pursuit, reality and the supernatural intertwine in ways they could never have imagined. The legacy of the Shinn farm emerges as a tapestry of chilling forces, threatening to consume not only the farm’s history but also the lives of those who dare to unveil its secrets. And for Moses, the stakes couldn’t be higher; he grapples with a heartrending decision to harness the unearthly energy he has encountered to rewrite the tragic fate that befell his son or risk his own life in the process. 

False Justice: The Murder of Two Men and a Web of Greed and Lies

by Lance J. Gosnell, posted in Short Stories

False Justice

 The Murder of Two Men and a Web of Greed and Lies 

 Written By: Lance J. Gosnell 
 While the names may have been changed to protect the innocent, the tragic injustice depicted here stemmed from actual happenings in history’s darkened shadows.

Center Ridge, Arkansas was a dusty town nestled in the foothills of the Ozarks. The sun beat down relentlessly as Alex Brinkley made his way along the worn dirt road leading into town. He tipped his hat to the few souls he passed along the way – the blacksmith, the general store owner, the ladies gossiping on the porch. 

 When he reached the small home he shared with his wife and daughters, Alex paused on the porch to light a cigarette. As he gazed out at the little farmhouses dotting the landscape, he thought back to how much Center Ridge had changed over the past couple years. 
 It all started when Marshall Baker arrived from Chicago. Baker was a large man with mocha skin and a gap-toothed smile. He strode into town wearing a fine suit and hat, carrying money from a life insurance policy. Folks were wary when Baker bought a plot of land right in town and opened a saloon. Negroes owning property and running businesses was uncommon in these parts.
 But Baker’s saloon, with its swinging doors and lively piano music, became a popular spot for both whites and blacks alike. The saloon’s success rankled some of the white townsfolk. One night, a fire raged through the saloon, leaving nothing but a smoldering skeleton. Baker’s charred remains were found in the ruins, half-eaten by dogs. His death was ruled an accident, but folks knew better. Baker had been run out of town in the worst way. 
 With Baker gone, things settled down for a spell. Then there was the nasty business with Doc Chamness. Alex took a long drag on his cigarette, remembering that sweltering June night when the doc was found dead on his porch, shot right through the head. A shiver went through him despite the heat. 
 Folks assumed Alex did it on account of bad blood between him and the doc over Baker’s saloon money. But Alex was innocent as a lamb. He had spent that evening fishing on the river with his buddy Rufus. Of course, that didn’t stop Sheriff Pruitt from clapping him in irons and tossing him in jail. And it didn’t stop Judge O’Malley from handing down a sentence of death by hanging. 
 Alex flicked the smoldering cigarette off the porch and went inside. His wife, Esther, was kneading dough for biscuits. His twin girls, Sarah and Maggie, ages six, sat at the table scribbling on slates. Esther looked up, her eyes rimmed red from crying. 
 “No word today?” she asked in a trembling voice. Alex shook his head grimly. It had been two months since the trial, and still no sign the judge would change his mind. Unless a miracle occurred, Alex had three weeks left before he swung from the gallows. 
 The thought made bile rise in his throat. He had been poor but happy, spending his days doing odd jobs around town, fishing, and playing checkers outside the general store. Now death loomed before him. Not just death – death for a crime he didn’t commit.
 “I’m taking the girls down to the creek to fish,” Alex said, trying to sound cheerful for their sake. He hoisted Sarah and Maggie into the wagon and clucked to the horse. As they bumped down the road, he kept up a steady stream of small talk, pointing out rabbits and interesting cloud shapes. 
 But his mind was a thousand miles away. Who had killed the doc? And why was Alex being blamed for it? He thought back to what folks were whispering around town. Rumor was the doc’s wife Mary Jane had seduced the new doctor in town, Virgil Cross. Doc Chamness took to drinking and fighting with Mary Jane on account of it. Also, Mary Jane was one of only two witnesses who claimed to have seen Alex threatening the doc. The other was Sam Kennimer, a ne’er-do-well who was thick as thieves with the sheriff. 
 As he watched Sarah and Maggie splash in the creek, a dark notion took root in Alex’s mind. What if Mary Jane and the sheriff had worked together to get rid of Doc Chamness and pin his murder on Alex? He had no proof, but it would explain the sham of a trial and his swift conviction. 
 Over the next few days, Alex turned the idea over and over, seeing how it fit together. By the end, he was convinced of it. Mary Jane wanted her husband gone so she could be with Virgil Cross. Sheriff Pruitt went along with it to frame Alex, who he hated because of Alex’s friendship with Marshall Baker. It was crystal clear. Now Alex just had to convince the judge to spare his life long enough to investigate. 
 The day before the scheduled hanging, Esther burst into tears of joy – Judge O’Malley had agreed to see Alex about delaying the execution! Alex hastily cleaned himself up, put on his one good suit, and walked the three miles into town with a spring in his step. This was his chance to tell the judge his theory about Mary Jane and present the evidence. The truth would set him free! 
 He was escorted to the judge’s chambers by a deputy with meaty fists and coffee-stained teeth. Judge O’Malley was sitting at his desk, silver-haired and somber. 
 “What’s this about delaying your sentence?” He asked Alex. “Make it quick, boy.” 
 Alex gathered his courage and launched into his story. He told the judge about Mary Jane’s jealousy, the rumor of her affair with Virgil Cross, and how the sheriff had framed him to get him out of the way. 
 The judge held up a hand to silence Alex. “That’s quite a conspiracy theory, son,” he said. “But I’ve heard nothing but gossip to back it up. I can’t overturn a conviction on hearsay.” He sighed deeply. “I’m afraid the hanging will proceed as scheduled.” 
 Alex felt the world drop out beneath him. “No! You can’t!” he cried hoarsely. “I’m innocent, I tell you!” 
 But the judge had made up his mind. Alex was dragged, sputtering protests, back to his cell. He beat the walls in frustration until his hands bled. It was no use. He was out of time. 
 The next morning, a priest came to deliver last rites. Alex refused, cursing at the man. Then Sheriff Pruitt appeared to escort Alex to the gallows that had been constructed in the town square. “Any last words, Brinkley?” The sheriff asked snidely. 
 Alex raised his chin high. “I go to my grave an innocent man,” he proclaimed. “May my blood stain the hands of those who put me here.” 
 He thought of Esther, Sarah and Maggie as the rough noose was fitted around his neck. They gazed at him from the gathered crowd, faces wet with tears. Alex offered them a reassuring nod and mouthed “I love you.” He felt oddly calm, comforted that he would see justice in Heaven if not on Earth. 
 The drumroll began, the floor dropped, and Alex Brinkley danced at the end of the rope. The witnesses gasped as his legs jerked wildly in his death throes. Then his body went slack, swaying gently in the morning breeze. 
 Alex Brinkley was laid to rest in an unmarked grave outside town. People left flowers, cards, and other mementos, despite the sheriff’s order not to. Everyone knew Brinkley died an innocent man. 
 The story of his wrongful hanging took on mythic proportions as it was passed down through generations in Center Ridge. Some say that on hot summer nights when the wind blows just right, you can still hear the creak of the gallows and Alex Brinkley’s footsteps swinging in the air.
______
Meet the real Alexander Brinkley & learn the true story the above historical fiction was inspired from.

Purgatory Bound: A Devilish Comedy

by Lance J. Gosnell, posted in Short Stories

Purgatory Bound  

A Devilish Comedy

Written By:  Lance J.  Gosnell

In the enigmatic tale of “Purgatory Bound,” our protagonist John sports a perpetually boyish charm and a disarming grin, John’s appearance is the epitome of approachability. His eyes, brimming with curiosity and a hint of mischief, invite you to share in his misadventures. John’s unassuming demeanor often belies the depths of his resilience and inner strength.

In the realm of Purgatory, the Voice of Purgatory reverberates with an unmistakable timbre. This ethereal figure exudes an air of twisted amusement. With a voice that dances between sardonic chuckles and biting sarcasm, the Voice embodies the enigmatic nature of Purgatory itself—a realm where the rules of reality are as malleable as the shadows that traverse its landscapes.

Surprisingly, Lucifer, portrayed by cuts a charismatic figure in Purgatory. With a rakish grin and a twinkle in his eye, Lucifer’s appearance masks his multifaceted nature. His attire is impeccably stylish, a blend of sophistication and devil-may-care nonchalance. Billowing clouds of darkness seem to part when he enters, revealing a devil with a penchant for witty repartees and a charm that’s hard to resist.

As John faces a mind-bending challenge, his choices bring him face to face with the quirky souls who inhabit Purgatory. Among them is The Torturer. With a manic energy and an ensemble that mirrors her offbeat personality, The Torturer appears as a paradox—a character whose appearance masks her role. Her gaze holds a glimmer of amusement, a hint that perhaps her role isn’t as straightforward as it seems.

The Angel, a being that radiates a soothing aura amidst the chaos of Purgatory. Her appearance is an embodiment of grace and wisdom. The gentle curve of her lips is a testament to her compassionate nature, while her eyes shimmer with the promise of guidance. The Angel’s attire seems to meld with the ethereal surroundings, evoking an air of serenity that’s as comforting as her presence.

In a realm where the bizarre becomes the norm, John is presented with a challenge that defies reason. Option 1 requires him to rally a group of eclectic souls for a stand-up comedy routine, which seems like an impossible feat. Option 2 thrusts him into an uproarious dance-off with none other than Lucifer himself. Amidst the surreal backdrop of Purgatory, John’s choice unfolds with determination etched across his features. His eyes reflect a mix of uncertainty and resolve, as he steps onto the impromptu dance floor.

As the dance-off commences, John’s moves are a delightful blend of comedic twirls and endearing awkwardness. His movements resonate with authenticity, captivating those around him. In contrast, Lucifer takes the stage with a devilish charm, every step a testament to his flair and confidence. John’s willingness to engage with the absurdity of the situation is mirrored in Lucifer’s gleeful extravagance.

The dance-off escalates, becoming a carnival of whimsy and laughter. John finds himself lost in the sheer joy of the moment, seamlessly mimicking Lucifer’s moves while adding his own unique touches. The atmosphere crackles with energy as the surreal dance-off reaches its zenith. Amid the chuckles and guffaws, even The Voice of Purgatory can’t help but crack a sadistic grin.

At the climax, John and Lucifer engage in an epic dance battle, a dazzling display of moves that range from hilariously exaggerated to surprisingly graceful. Beads of sweat glisten on John’s forehead, his determination evident in every step. Lucifer’s charismatic grace is on full display, evoking both amusement and admiration from the onlookers.

The dance-off reaches a crescendo, ending in a tie that leaves everyone, even the misfit souls, in uproarious laughter. Lucifer extends a hand toward John, their camaraderie forged in the fires of this bizarre encounter. As the lights dim and the dance floor fades away, the memory of the dance-off remains—a testament to the unexpected connections found in the heart of Purgatory.

John’s journey through Purgatory takes an intriguing turn after the dance-off. The souls he encountered during the challenge begin to view him with newfound respect. The misfit souls, in particular, admire his ability to embrace the absurdity of their existence while finding joy in the midst of suffering. John’s appearance, with a slightly ruffled demeanor and a sparkle in his eyes, serves as a beacon of positivity within the enigmatic realm.

As John’s exploration of Purgatory continues, he stumbles upon a group of downtrodden souls. They’re faced with an intricate puzzle, seemingly unsolvable. The Voice of Purgatory declares that solving it will inch them closer to salvation. John’s presence, marked by a blend of empathy and determination, draws the gaze of the souls. His attire, once casual, now holds a certain gravitas—a reflection of the evolution he’s undergone.

John’s gaze lingers on the shifting patterns of the puzzle, his mind whirring with newfound insight. The echo of his recent dance-off with Lucifer resonates in his movements as he gracefully anticipates the puzzle’s intricate changes. The souls watch in awe as he dances in harmony with the puzzle, a symphony of motion and emotion.

As the last piece slots into place, a radiant burst of light envelops the group. The Voice of Purgatory, begrudgingly impressed, conveys acknowledgment through his sardonic tone. John’s appearance, bathed in the luminous glow, exudes a sense of triumph. His journey of self-discovery and growth has found expression in this pivotal moment.

With this act, John’s reputation takes on a new hue in Purgatory. The souls he encountered spread tales of his ingenuity and kindness, painting him as a beacon of positivity within the surreal landscape. The misfit souls, once disheartened, find renewed hope in his aura.

In the midst of his journey, John receives a cryptic message from The Angel, directing him toward the “Heart of Purgatory.” The Angel’s presence is calming, her aura one of reassurance. Her eyes hold a depth of wisdom as she imparts her guidance. Her attire, woven from ethereal fabrics, shimmers with a celestial luminescence.

With The Angel’s guidance, John embarks on a quest to locate the Heart of Purgatory. His steps are marked by determination and curiosity, his appearance reflecting his newfound purpose. Every glance, every movement, speaks to the transformation he’s undergone—a transformation that’s woven into the fabric of his being.

Amid surreal landscapes and peculiar encounters, John’s appearance seems to mirror the ever-shifting nature of Purgatory itself. His attire, once unassuming, now holds an air of purposeful intention. The glint in his eyes carries the weight of his experiences, hinting at the wisdom he’s accrued.

As he finally stands before the Heart of Purgatory, John’s appearance is a testament to his journey. His gaze is unwavering, reflecting a resolve that’s etched into his features. The Heart’s chamber, bathed in radiance, seems to acknowledge the depth of his evolution.

As John gazes into the mirror within the Heart

Werewolves of Fresno: Moonlight Mischief

by Lance J. Gosnell, posted in Short Stories

Werewolves of Fresno: Moonlight Mischief
Written By: Lance J. Gosnell

Welcome to Fresno, a city with a peculiar charm that’s both delightfully eerie and oddly endearing. Nestled in the heart of California’s central valley.  Under the soft glow of the full moon, strange occurrences were becoming a common sight. People had started to vanish mysteriously, leaving behind only unsettling echoes of howling in the night. The employees of Yosemite National Park who often came to the the city to escape from the tourons,  the tourist morons who would ask silly questions like when do you turn the waterfalls on or can I drive to the top of Halfdome,  would whispered of supernatural creatures lurking in the shadows, tales of terrifying beasts that were half-wolf, half-human. But it wasn’t until Max, Lila, and Javier, former park employees, stumbled upon an old journal that they realized the extent of the horror that had taken over their town.

Max, an aspiring musician with an affinity for classic rock, often found solace in the local dive bar. It was there that he met Lila, a tech-savvy conspiracy theorist, and Javier, the fearless pizza delivery guy who had a knack for cracking jokes at the oddest times. Over drinks and laughter, they formed an unlikely friendship that would change their lives forever.

One fateful night, as they compared their theories about the mysterious disappearances, Lila’s eyes fell upon a peculiar mark etched into the pages of the old journal. The mark seemed to hold an otherworldly significance, leading them to suspect a connection between the disappearances and an ancient artifact rumored to grant unimaginable power to those who possessed it.

Their curiosity piqued, the trio embarked on a quest to uncover the truth behind the mark and the artifact. Armed with a mix of Max’s knowledge of classic rock lyrics, Lila’s tech skills, and Javier’s quick wit, they delved deep into the town’s history and lore. Along the way, they encountered bizarre challenges that tested their friendship and pushed them to their limits.

In their pursuit of answers, they found themselves face to face with Werewolves – creatures that seemed to defy the laws of nature. In a memorable encounter, they faced off against a disco-loving Werewolf in a showdown that combined horror and hilarity. Their creative approach to each confrontation earned them respect among the townspeople, who had initially doubted their abilities.

But as their journey continued, their victories were marred by the Werewolves’ escalating aggression. Javier was abducted, leaving behind a cryptic clue that sent shivers down Max and Lila’s spines. Desperate and on the brink of despair, the two friends faced their darkest hour, questioning not only their abilities but also the strength of their friendship.

With the help of their newfound allies and a rekindled determination, Max and Lila devised a daring plan to rescue Javier and finally put an end to the Werewolves’ reign of terror. The final confrontation took place under the neon lights of a karaoke bar, where they clashed with the Werewolves in a battle that blended heart-pounding suspense with uproarious comedy. With bravery and clever strategy, they managed to retrieve the ancient artifact and banish the Werewolves from Fresno.

As the town returned to its tranquil state, a celebration erupted. Max’s band played their music, filling the air with joy and triumph. Amid the festivities, Max and Lila’s growing affection for each other blossomed, while Javier’s comic spirit kept everyone entertained.

Standing together under the moonlit sky, Max, Lila, and Javier realized that they had not only saved their town but had also forged an unbreakable bond. Their adventure had transformed them, proving that even in the face of the most terrifying challenges, laughter, friendship, and the power of music could prevail.

Big Rock Justice: Ordering Unsweet Tea Can Be A Crime

by Lance J. Gosnell, posted in Short Stories

Big Rock Justice

Ordering Undweet Tea Can Be A Crime

Written By:  Lance J.  Gosnell



Amidst the rolling hills and meandering rivers of Arkansas, lay the charming city of Big Rock. It was a place where echoes of the past danced with the aspirations of the future, creating a mosaic of diverse neighborhoods that hummed with life and possibility.

In a dimly lit office, Fox Hackman peered at the archival documents scattered haphazardly on his desk. He ran a tired hand through his unkempt hair, stubble framing his rugged face. His whiskey-soaked voice murmured to itself with a mix of frustration and determination.

“This can’t just be coincidence,” he muttered, eyes narrowing as he connected the dots between the strange phenomena plaguing the city. “There’s a thread here, a dark secret waiting to be unraveled.”

Outside, Detective Lou Thompson stood at a busy street corner, sweet tea in hand. He fixed his gaze on the passersby, observing their every move with a mix of suspicion and desperation. With a twinge of irritation, he approached a young woman sipping a soda.

“What’s that you’re drinking, miss?” he demanded, his tone laced with an irrational intensity.

The woman blinked in surprise. “Uh, just a soda, officer.”

Lou’s grip tightened on his cup as he scowled. “Soda? Show some respect for Big Rock’s traditions! Sweet tea is the lifeblood of this city!”

Back in the office, Fox glanced at his pocket watch, the ticking echoing in the silence. He needed allies, people who understood the intricacies of Big Rock. His gaze landed on Malik “Bubba” Jenkins, a man of mystery with a knack for navigating the city’s hidden alleys and forgotten secrets. Time to pay Bubba a visit.

With a purposeful stride, Fox stepped out onto the bustling streets, narrowly avoiding a car driven by mechanic Trey Jackson. Trey shouted a curse at the driver before his eyes fell on Mia Carter, a tenacious journalist known for her unyielding pursuit of the truth.

“Mia! Got anything on these strange happenings?” Trey called out, eager for some answers.

Smiling, Mia nodded. “I’ve been digging deep, Trey. There’s something dark lurking beneath the surface of this city. I just hope we’re ready for what we find.”

Meanwhile, Hannah Edwards, a intelligent and detail-oriented attorney, sat in a courtroom, her mind consumed with the mysterious cases that seemed to intertwine with Big Rock itself

In the heart of Big Rock, a mysterious series of unexplained phenomena has been gripping the city. Strange occurrences and disappearances have left the townspeople puzzled and anxious. As the city’s enigmatic figure, Fox Hackman takes it upon himself to investigate, believing these events are connected to the city’s hidden history.

Detective Lou Thompson’s obsession with sweet tea takes a darker turn. His irrational detaining of people who don’t drink sweet tea begins to escalate, leading to unintended consequences.

One sunny morning, Bubba Jenkins, an enigmatic figure with a brimmed hat and a twinkle in his eye, strolled down the city’s bustling streets. He bumped into Savannah Thompson, a tenacious lawyer with a matching gaze of determination.

“Hey there, Bubba,” Savannah greeted, glancing at the wanted posters lining the walls. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Heard anything about the strange happenings in this town?”

Bubba adjusted his hat, his eyes shifting. “You’re not alone in wanting answers,” he murmured, casting a glance at the skyline. “I reckon there’s something darker going on here. Have you heard about Detective Thompson’s obsession with sweet tea?”

Savannah frowned, crossing her arms. “It’s been getting out of hand. Innocent folks detained just for not sipping sweet tea? That’s crazy!”

Bubba nodded. “It’s more than just a quirk. There’s something twisted in his mind that’s driving this obsession. We need to find out what.”

As if on cue, Trey Jackson, a greasy wrench in hand, strolled by with a carefree whistle. Mia Carter, an inquisitive journalist, followed behind him with a notepad in hand.

“Mia, check out the weird disappearances linked to Detective Thompson,” Trey suggested, rolling up his sleeves. “And Bubba, you reckon I can do anything about this sweet tea obsession?”

Bubba shrugged. “Reach him through what he loves, Trey. Fix him up with the sweetest, tastiest sweet tea he’s ever laid his eyes on. Perhaps that will calm him down and give us the answers we need.”

Meanwhile, Fox Hackman sat in his dimly lit office, surrounded by stacks of newspapers and crime scene photos. He muttered to himself, “There’s a pattern, a hidden thread that ties it all together.”

The tension in Big Rock had reached its boiling point, threatening to bubble over the quaint city’s boundaries. The enigmatic Fox Hackman had discovered the connection between the unexplained phenomena and Detective Lou Thompson’s sweet tea obsession. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting shadows on the rolling hills and meandering rivers, the entire city held its breath, awaiting the climactic showdown.

In a dark, abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town, the air crackled with anticipation. Malik “Bubba” Jenkins stood tall, his brooding exterior mirroring the looming storm clouds above. Beside him, Savannah Thompson’s gaze was unwavering, her determination etched into every line of her face. The unlikely allies had come to confront the truth that had unraveled their city.

Detective Lou Thompson, his eyes wild and glazed, glared at Bubba and Savannah, his obsession with sweet tea having consumed him completely. “You fools! You think you can stop me? The city needs sweet tea to survive!”

Bubba’s voice dripped with resignation as he held out a hand, trying to appeal to Lou’s sanity. “Lou, this isn’t you. Whatever happened to you, we can help you through it. But the city doesn’t need this obsession. It needs unity and understanding.”

Lou scoffed, his laughter echoing ominously through the empty warehouse. “Unity? Understanding? No, what Big Rock needs is obedience to the sweet tea!” He lunged at Bubba, his eyes filled with rage.

With lightning reflexes, Savannah stepped in, her hand clasping Lou’s wrist with an iron grip. “No more, Lou. We won’t let you hurt anyone else. We’ll bring you back from this darkness.”

The struggle intensified, shadows dancing around their intertwined bodies. Trey Jackson and Mia Carter watched, their hearts pounding with anticipation, as the destiny of their city unfurled before them.

As the climax reached its crescendo, Hannah Edwards and Darius Foster burst through the warehouse doors, their eyes widening at the sight before them. They locked eyes with Aiden White and Zara Mitchell, who had been tracking the unfolding events through their technological prowess.

Together, the ensemble of heroes, connected by fate and purpose, united against the dark forces threatening their beloved Big Rock. The echoes of their determination reverberated through the city, promising resolution and transformation unraveling of mysteries that had plagued Big Rock. The city seemed to hold its breath, as if nature itself sensed the significance of this moment. And in the midst of the dimly lit warehouse, a tense silence hung heavy in the air.

The city’s diverse ensemble of characters, their lives woven together by circumstance, stared down the darkness that had gripped Detective Lou Thompson. The weight of their determination and unity bore down on him, breaking through the twisted obsession that had consumed him.

Lou’s grip loosened, his eyes flickering with a mix of confusion and realization. The storm outside raged in harmony with the turmoil within him. With a shuddering exhale, he released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“You’re right,” he whispered, his voice a mere echo of the man he once was. “This… this isn’t what Big Rock is about. It’s not just about sweet tea. It’s about the people, the spirit, the unity.”

As the tension ebbed away, the ensemble felt a collective sigh of relief. Bubba, Savannah, Trey, Mia, Hannah, Darius, Aiden, and Zara exchanged glances, their hearts stirred by the realization that their combined efforts had pulled a fellow inhabitant back from the brink.

Outside, the storm began to subside, its fury giving way to a cleansing rain that washed away the lingering darkness. The city seemed to breathe again, its enigmatic essence restored.

In the days that followed, the heroes of Big Rock forged a deeper bond, united by the trials they had faced and the enigmatic city they called home. Fox Hackman’s investigation continued, leading to revelations that unearthed the hidden secrets behind the unexplained phenomena.

Lou Thompson, his obsession transformed into determination, embarked on a new path of redemption. He began organizing community events, using his love for sweet tea to foster unity and understanding, rather than division.

And as the sun set over the rolling hills and meandering rivers of Big Rock, the city stood stronger than ever. Shadows of enigma still lingered, but they were no longer suffocating. The resilient spirit of its people had triumphed over darkness, and the intricate tapestry of lives continued to weave stories of mystery, unity, and the unyielding human spirit.

Lou Thompson’s obsession with sweet tea had a root in his past that he had suppressed for years. As Fox Hackman’s investigation delved deeper into the city’s hidden history, he uncovered a long-buried incident from Lou’s childhood. It was a traumatic event that had taken place during a sweet tea festival, where Lou had lost someone dear to him due to a tragic accident that occurred while celebrating the city’s beloved beverage.

This incident had left a profound impact on Lou’s impressionable mind, shaping his psyche in unexpected ways. Over time, the memory became intertwined with his love for sweet tea, transforming a fond childhood memory into an irrational obsession. Lou had unknowingly associated sweet tea with safety and happiness, as well as a desperate attempt to hold onto a piece of his past that had slipped away. The more he clung to this obsession, the more it devolved into a compulsion to ensure that everyone around him upheld this tradition, as if it was a way to protect the city’s harmony and his own fragile equilibrium.

Fox Hackman’s investigation unearthed a series of interconnected events that revolved around a secret society that had thrived in Big Rock for generations. This clandestine organization had manipulated the city’s development, its economy, and even some of its residents, all in the pursuit of power and wealth. Fox discovered a network of hidden passages and underground chambers that the society had used to conduct their secretive affairs.

At the heart of this conspiracy, Fox uncovered a ledger that revealed the true extent of the society’s influence, as well as the names of those who had been involved across the years. The ledger contained records of bribery, coercion, and even darker deeds that had shaped the city’s history. It was a revelation that shattered the illusion of Big Rock’s idyllic charm, exposing the enigmatic underbelly that had remained hidden for so long.

As Fox delved deeper, he realized that the unexplained phenomena gripping the city were a result of the secret society’s experiments and machinations. These events were tied to a hidden power source that the society had harnessed to maintain control over the city. The mysteries, the disappearances, and the strange occurrences were all a byproduct of this power source’s destabilizing effects on the city’s fabric.

Ultimately, Fox’s findings implicated key figures within the society, some of whom held influential positions in Big Rock’s government and corporate world. As he uncovered the truth, the city’s delicate balance teetered on the edge, and the heroes of Big Rock were forced to confront not only the society’s dark history but also the consequences of dismantling it.

Fox Hackman’s discoveries would have lasting ramifications, challenging the city’s residents to confront their past and reimagine their future. The enigma that had defined Big Rock for generations would slowly transform into a story of resilience, redemption, and the indomitable spirit of its inhabitants.

What was Lou’s traumatic event?

The traumatic event that Lou Thompson suffered at the sweet tea festival was both poignant and ironically humorous. It was a seemingly innocent incident that left a lasting scar on his psyche, shaping his obsession with sweet tea in an unexpected way.

As a young boy, Lou attended the annual Sweet Tea Festival with his family. The festival was a celebration of the city’s beloved beverage, featuring contests, games, and of course, endless servings of sweet tea. Lou’s family always made it a point to attend, and it was a day he looked forward to every year.

On that fateful day, a series of amusing yet unfortunate events unfolded. Lou, a particularly curious and excitable child, had been running around the festival grounds, eagerly participating in games and gobbling down sweet treats. His parents, busy chatting with friends, had momentarily lost sight of him in the bustling crowd.

As the sun beat down on the festival, Lou spotted a massive sweet tea-drinking contest. Determined to make his mark and impress his family, he decided to participate. Little did he know, his eyes were bigger than his stomach.

Lou chugged sweet tea with a fervor, the crowd cheering him on. But soon, the sugary liquid took its toll on his young belly. In a scene straight out of a comedy, Lou’s eyes widened, his cheeks puffed, and with a triumphant but ill-fated belch, he sprayed sweet tea all over the judges’ table, soaking the festival’s grand centerpiece—a towering sweet tea fountain.

The festival-goers erupted in laughter, a mix of surprise and amusement filling the air. Lou stood there, drenched in sweet tea, his eyes brimming with tears of embarrassment. The laughter was not malicious; it was a genuine and heartwarming response to the unexpected mishap. But for Lou, it was a traumatic moment that marked him indelibly.

His innocent desire to participate and be noticed had backfired in the most comical yet humiliating way possible. From that day forward, sweet tea became synonymous with that childhood humiliation. The incident left an emotional scar that he buried deep within him, never speaking of it to anyone. Instead, he channeled his embarrassment into an irrational obsession with sweet tea, as if by making everyone else embrace it, he could finally overcome the ridicule he had faced.

How deep did the secret society connections go and whose name did Fox Hackman see connected to the society that controlled Big Rock?

As Fox Hackman’s investigation into Big Rock’s hidden secrets deepened, he discovered a web of connections that extended beyond what he had initially anticipated. One thread of his investigation led him to Malik “Bubba” Jenkins, the enigmatic figure who had always seemed to be one step ahead in navigating the city’s shadows.

Digging into Bubba’s background, Fox uncovered that Bubba was indeed connected to the secret society that had been manipulating the city’s development for generations. Bubba’s involvement, however, was far from what Fox had expected. Bubba had once been part of the society, drawn in by family ties and a desire to protect the city’s essence.

Years ago, Bubba had been initiated into the society, a decision driven by a genuine love for BigRock and a belief that he could influence its course from within. However, he quickly realized the true nature of the society’s actions—how they were using their power to exploit the city’s resources and control its inhabitants for their own gain.

Bubba’s conscience could not bear the weight of their actions. He had eventually severed his ties with the society, vowing to protect the city in his own way, far from their manipulations. Bubba’s motivations were pure, driven by a desire to make amends for his past and to ensure that Big Rock’s essence, the unity of its diverse neighborhoods, remained intact.

When Lou Thompson’s obsession with sweet tea began to escalate, Bubba recognized the signs of the society’s influence. He knew that Lou’s irrational behavior was being manipulated by remnants of the organization, who saw an opportunity to exploit his fixation for their own ends. Seeing the danger that Lou posed to the city and sensing an opportunity for redemption, Bubba suggested the idea of giving Lou what he craved—sweet tea—as a means to break the hold the society had on him.

As Fox pieced together this revelation, he realized that the key figures within the society were the same individuals who had positions of influence in Big Rock’s government and corporate world. Their manipulation of events, the unexplained phenomena, and even Lou’s obsession with sweet tea were all part of their grand scheme to maintain control and power.

The climactic confrontation in the abandoned warehouse was the turning point. Bubba, with his firsthand knowledge of the society’s inner workings, played a pivotal role in bringing Lou back from the edge. With the combined efforts of the ensemble of heroes, the remnants of the society’s influence were shattered, and the power source they had harnessed was neutralized.

The resolution of the story brought closure to the characters’ journeys. Lou Thompson, freed from the society’s manipulation, embarked on a journey of redemption and community service, using his once-obsessive love for sweet tea to foster unity and understanding in the city. Bubba, having exposed his own past and secrets, found acceptance among his friends as they recognized the sincerity of his intentions.

As the storm subsided, the enigma that had shrouded Big Rock’s history slowly lifted, revealing a city defined by its enigmatic challenges and resilient spirit. The heroes had uncovered the secrets that had long lain hidden, redefining the city’s narrative in a way that resonated with unity, redemption, and the triumph of the human spirit over darkness.

The Witch of Yazoo: Unearthing Evil in a Mississippi Town

by Lance J. Gosnell, posted in Short Stories

The Witch of Yazoo: Unearthing Evil in a Mississippi Town

Written By: Lance J. Gosnell

The tires of Alex Turner’s sedan crunched on the gravel as he pulled off Highway 49 into the parking lot of the Crossroads Gas & Grocery. He had driven this remote stretch of the Mississippi Delta endlessly over the past two years, fueled by his obsession with the legend of the mysterious Witch of Yazoo. Alex cut the engine and closed his eyes, recalling the chance encounter in 2019 that had set him on this quest. 

It began on a moonlit backroad, when a pale, thin figure emerged spectral-like from the darkness. Behind the wheel, Alex froze as the haggard man raised a gnarled finger toward the windshield. Despite his ragged attire, the man’s eyes burned with preternatural vitality. With a devilish grin, he uttered a single phrase: “The witch beckons, the chains be broken.” Before Alex could respond, the man receded into the shadows. 

That bizarre roadside warning ignited Alex’s imagination, driving his fixation on the mythic crossroads where blues pioneer Robert Johnson traded his soul for otherworldly guitar skills. Somewhere near the muddy waters of Mississippi, Alex was convinced that intersection still held secrets waiting to be unearthed. 

As an investigative journalist, Alex had built his career chasing stories of the unexplained across the American South. While part of him remained skeptical, he felt compelled to pursue this lead, wherever it took him. 

The phone call from his friend Daniel, an eccentric historian, interrupted Alex’s reverie. Daniel claimed to have uncovered new information related to the Witch of Yazoo and wanted to meet in person. Alex agreed to rendezvous with Daniel at a diner in Knoxville, Tennessee in two days. He hoped Daniel might finally provide the missing piece in the puzzling legend.

Forty-eight hours later, Alex steered his sedan north along Interstate 55 under ominous gray skies. But as he neared the state border, an unsettling fog descended, blurring the highway signs. Before he realized it, Alex was exiting onto a ramshackle downtown street. Blinking against the haze, he glimpsed a weathered sign: “Welcome to Yazoo City, Mississippi.”

Alex’s breath caught in his throat. This was no accidental detour – inexplicably, he had been drawn exactly where his obsession dwelled. Fate had intervened, redirecting him to the very heart of the witch’s mythical domain. Gripped by anticipation, Alex cruised the empty downtown streets, passing faded buildings that seemed frozen in time. What secrets did this peculiar little town hold?

The creak of a wooden porch step snapped Alex from his thoughts. An elderly man rocked silently in a chair, watching him with unsettling intensity. As Alex’s car crawled by, the man raised a crooked finger, beckoning him to stop. A chill tickled Alex’s spine. What did the old-timer want with him? Against his better judgment, he pulled over.

The man’s voice was distant thunder. “You best turn back, son. Ain’t nothin’ but trouble past the Yazoo bend.” Before Alex could respond, the old man retreated inside, the screen door slamming forcefully behind him. 

Unease swirled through Alex as he glanced around warily. Just then, a stray dog slunk across the road, and his heart seized until he realized it was just a scrawny stray. Get it together, he told himself. You’re jumping at shadows. Shaking off the encounter, Alex continued his aimless cruise through the unfamiliar town. 

He was contemplating his next move when a hand-painted sign nailed to a telephone pole caught his eye: Nightowl Art Gallery. Art exhibitions seemed out of place in this worn-down town, intriguing Alex’s curiosity. Inside, he wandered past stacked paintings until a voice called out.

“Can I help you find something?” A young woman with paint-flecked overalls and flowing copper hair leaned against the counter. 

Alex started. “I apologize, I was just…” 

“Snooping around?” She offered a crooked smile. “It’s okay, we don’t get many visitors. I’m Scarlett.”

Alex introduced himself, explaining his unexpected detour to Yazoo City. He chose his next words carefully. “I’m actually researching local folklore – the legend of the Witch of Yazoo specifically. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Scarlett’s expression darkened, putting Alex on alert. But she nodded slowly. “I know more than most, probably. But it’s not a story for the middle of the day.” She glanced out at the setting sun. “Meet me at the abandoned railroad depot after nightfall if you really want to learn more.” Before Alex could ask any more questions, she disappeared into the back room.

Alex’s pulse quickened as he left the gallery. Had luck finally swung his way? He had no idea if he could trust Scarlett, but his interest was piqued. Retrieving a flashlight from his car, Alex waited impatiently for darkness to descend before making his way to the crumbling train depot.

Inside, filtered moonlight illuminated Scarlett perched on an old cargo crate. “So you’re still game?” she asked, an amused glint in her eyes. 

Alex nodded. “I want to separate fact from myth. What can you tell me about the Witch of Yazoo?”

Scarlett leaned back, exhaling slowly. “She’s real all right. I’ve seen her myself, out among the cypress trees along the Yazoo River. She drifts along in this ragged black cloak, her face hidden beneath a hood.” Alex listened intently as Scarlett described the witch’s ominous glimpses over two years, always near the river’s deadliest bends.

“Legend says she appears when the chains binding her spirit to the riverbank break loose. Then folks around here start experiencing premonitions, visions…bad omens warning of trouble ahead.” Scarlett shivered, hugging her knees to her chest. “Lately, those sightings have increased. My own dreams have been haunted by her cryptic warnings.”  

Alex’s mind spun as he connected her account to the puzzle pieces in his head. If the witch’s chains were breaking, as his roadside encounter had foretold, what did it portend? Scarlett eyed him intently in the darkness, as if reading his thoughts. “You’re seeking something dangerous. There are some stones better left unturned.”  

A lingering question nagged Alex. “Have you ever seen any strange symbols associated with the witch, perhaps related to the broken chains?”

Scarlett averted her eyes. “Come back at noon tomorrow. There’s something I need to show you.” Before Alex could object, she melted into the shadows. He cursed inwardly but saw no option except to wait for whatever she intended to reveal.

The following day, Alex paced impatiently until Scarlett finally appeared. Without a word, she led him to an abandoned warehouse near the river’s edge. Passing a wall plastered with her own monochromatic paintings, she paused before a metal door stenciled with a symbol: twisted links of chain broken apart. 

Scarlett turned to him. “I’ve glimpsed this sign at some of the witch’s haunts, always etched hastily into the dirt or bark as if to mark her presence.” She frowned. “Lately, these symbols have multiplied across town. I wanted to keep it hidden…but you need to see what we’re up against.”

Pushing open the door, Scarlett revealed a room plastered top-to-bottom with the chain symbols, scrawled in frantic fashion. Alex’s mouth went dry. This obsessive handiwork clearly pointed to one conclusion – the witch’s shackles were rupturing.

Over the next two weeks, Alex and Scarlett delved deeper into the mystery. They uncovered century-old records hinting at the witch’s role in a pact made by Yazoo City’s founders, trading prosperity for an oath to keep her bound to the riverbank. Now, the descendants had broken their sacred vow, leaving the chains precariously fractured.

Ominous incidents escalated, from unnatural fog to violent tremors. The local authorities stubbornly blamed these happenings on natural causes, dismissing Alex’s theories. But late one night, Scarlett experienced a petrifying encounter that erased her lingering doubts. 

After she recounted barely escaping the grasp of a cloaked, skeletal wraith near the river, Alex knew the situation was dire. “I didn’t want to believe it before,” Scarlett confessed, still visibly shaken, “but we’re dealing with some kind of malevolent force beyond reason.” She fixed Alex with a grave look. “If we don’t find a way to restore those broken chains soon, I fear for this town.”

Alex slowly realized they faced a true force of evil, something he had previously only encountered in myth. But Scarlett’s close call steeled his resolve to confront the witch head-on. After days of fruitless research, Alex finally deciphered a hidden message buried in the chain symbols. The interlocking links provided instructions for an archaic binding ritual, one that could potentially restrain the unleashed spirit before more harm befell Yazoo City.

But as Alex scrambled to gather the ritual materials, a scream in the night heralded a new wave of terror. People across town fell into fits, gripped by visions conjured by the witch. General hysteria took hold as the death toll mounted. Alex discovered among the victims his friend Daniel, who had finally arrived in Yazoo City to aid the investigation. Guilt crushed Alex, knowing he had unwittingly put the eccentric historian in harm’s way. 

Scarlett soon experienced seizures that left her bedridden and delirious. Watching his unlikely partner ravaged by the same forces, Alex plunged into despair. He had allowed his obsession to blind him as evil overtook an unsuspecting town. Now, lives had been lost and the witch’s powers continued gathering strength. 

Consumed by doubt, Alex agonized alone. Perhaps his skepticism had been warranted all along. How could he confront an ancient malevolence armed only with some mystical ritual? As another tremor shook the room, Alex sank to his knees. For the first time in years, he prayed silently for the wisdom to see his way forward. 

In that moment of absolute brokenness, Alex felt a presence whisper to his spirit, exhorting him to finally embrace the unknowable. He saw that he had been both foolish and wise – foolish to dismiss the inexplicable, yet wise to question the limits of reality. By wedding openness to mystery with relentless pursuit of truth, he could still undo the damage enabled by his own skepticism.  

With newfound clarity of purpose, Alex gathered the ritual elements, including a snippet of Scarlett’s hair. If he could restore the witch’s chains, perhaps the curse on Scarlett would reverse. Armed also with his own uprooted skepticism, Alex set out alone toward the river. 

The blood-red moon cast twisted shadows as Alex built a small fire on the muddy bank. After mixing herbs and oils, he began the incantation, fueled by his fierce intention to rebind the menacing spirit to this riverbed. The wind whipped violently as he recited the ritual’s conclusion: 

“By broken chains, now be thou bound,

In earth and river deep…

Return to slumber underground,

Thy curses now to sleep.”

Alex cast Scarlett’s hair into the flames. A deafening screech split the night. The trees bent and groaned as a dark wraith erupted from the river, contorting in rage above Alex. Paralyzed momentarily, Alex battled the dread rising in his chest. Suddenly, fiery chains burst from the earth, encircling the shadowy witch and dragging her down below the muddy bank with a last unearthly wail. 

The wind died instantly. Crickets tentatively resumed their chorus in the now-tranquil darkness. Alex sank to his knees, overwhelmed with exhausted relief. Though the witch’s sinister presence lingered, her binding chains had been mystically repaired.

As mist rose on the river at dawn, Alex packed up his sedan, ready to depart Yazoo City. A figure stood waiting beside his car – Scarlett, remarkably restored. “You faced her alone,” she said in awe. “I don’t know how, but you ended the curse.”

Alex shrugged, embarrassed. “Let’s just say I finally found something worth believing in.” With a last look toward the river, he bid the artist farewell. Though reluctant to make promises, he knew their paths would cross again.

As Alex drove toward the rising sun, his rationale-driven life forever changed by forces beyond understanding, he wondered what new mysteries lay over the horizon. But for once, the unknown did not fill him with dread, but with hope. 

Echoes of Time: A War with Thursday

by Lance J. Gosnell, posted in Short Stories

Echoes of Time: A War with Thursday

Written By: Lance J. Gosnell

In the picturesque town of Bentonville, Arkansas, where the streets held echoes of a bygone era, Detective Walt Marlowe’s presence was a fixture as constant as the sunlit mornings. His uncanny resemblance to the legendary film critic Gene Shalit, combined with his classic trench coat swaying gently in the breeze, lent an air of timeless mystery to his persona. Yet, the tranquil rhythms of this close-knit community were about to be shattered by a conundrum that transcended time itself.

A stormy night set the stage for a phenomenon that defied explanation. Thunder rumbled like a herald of change, and jagged lightning illuminated the cobbled streets. Marlowe, at the height of his detective prowess, chased shadows and pieced together fragments when a brilliant burst of light engulfed him. In the blink of an eye, he found himself thrust into a future as foreign as a distant star—2033.

The town he had known had morphed into a futuristic marvel. Skyscrapers soared towards the heavens, their sleek surfaces adorned with holographic projections that painted the air with hues of neon. Hovering vehicles weaved through the skyline, leaving luminous trails in their wake. Marlowe’s trademark trench coat and fedora appeared like relics of an ancient past against this backdrop of technological grandeur.

Within this breathtaking metamorphosis, Marlowe’s path intersected with a woman named Dr. Eleanor Radner. Eleanor was a convergence of brilliance and enigma, her eyes harboring layers of knowledge and a hint of veiled truths. In the shadow of an experimental accident—one that claimed her husband John Radner’s life while inadvertently hurling Marlowe through the corridors of time—Eleanor stood as a beacon of curiosity and determination.

A partnership forged by circumstance and shared tenacity, Marlowe and Eleanor embarked on an odyssey to untangle the threads of Marlowe’s temporal jump. Amidst the labyrinthine equations Eleanor sketched on her holographic slate, Marlowe’s astute observations unearthed hidden patterns. Their synergy wove a tapestry of science and deduction that began to unravel the enigma.

As days bled into nights, their connection deepened, fueled by an insatiable drive to restore the ebb and flow of time. Along the way, cryptic clues led them to a clandestine network—an assembly of enigmatic individuals, each linked to a day of the week. The air crackled with an aura of uncertainty, as if the very essence of reality was being rewritten before their eyes.

Amidst the turmoil, Marlowe’s gaze was drawn to a figure known as Thursday. Exuding an air of unfathomable mystique, Thursday’s presence was like a riddle that distorted the fabric of reality itself. Their encounters, laden with tension and intrigue, transformed into a dance of words, prompting Marlowe to question not just his role, but the very nature of existence.

The duo’s pursuit spiraled into a web of illusion and deception. They navigated through intricate holographic mazes, deciphered messages that seemed to transcend time, and were confronted with paradoxes that strained the limits of logic. Each revelation unearthed a deeper layer of truth, each encounter with Thursday added complexity to a puzzle with consequences spanning eras.

Beneath the futuristic skyline of Bentonville, a climactic confrontation brewed between Marlowe and Thursday—a duel that reverberated with the weight of history and destiny. Their verbal exchange danced like intertwined destinies, Marlowe’s commitment to restoring temporal equilibrium burning with newfound intensity. Eleanor’s presence bolstered his resolve, merging her scientific prowess with his indomitable spirit.

And then, at the precipice of revelation, the puzzle pieces fell into alignment. Eleanor’s scientific breakthroughs merged seamlessly with Marlowe’s deductive insights, a symphony of realization flooding their senses. In an unexpected twist, Marlowe uncovered that Eleanor was his great-great-great granddaughter—a revelation that resonated with the symmetries of time itself.

A final confrontation with Thursday revealed a truth that transcended timelines. Thursday wasn’t just an individual; it was an embodiment of an alternate Eleanor, striving to maintain the new timeline where both Eleanors could coexist, regardless of Marlowe and Eleanor’s efforts to rewrite history.

As Marlowe prepared to cross the threshold of the temporal gateway, returning to the comfort of 1955, he cast a lingering glance at the futuristic Bentonville that had become a part of him. The streets, once reminiscent of an era long past, pulsed with a vibrant energy, pulsating with the promise of unforeseen futures. A determined smile graced Marlowe’s lips as he stepped into the portal, a man forever bound by the mysteries of time, leaving behind a legacy of curiosity, bravery, and the resolute spirit of a detective who dared to traverse the boundaries of possibility itself.

A Ghostly Ride Request: A Vanishing Hitchhiker Tale

by Lance J. Gosnell, posted in Short Stories

A Ghostly Ride Request

A Vanishing Hitchhiker Tale

Inspired by the ghost story of the Vanishing Hitchhiker Laura Starr Latta

Written By: Lance J. Gosnell

The mist of that ominous October night seemed to weave a shroud from the very fabric of shadows and hidden truths, cocooning the world in an enigmatic embrace. Within this impenetrable cloak, Sarah found herself, an unwitting ride-share driver, facing an eerie ride request that would irrevocably bind her fate to the spectral whispers of a forgotten era.
The coordinates on her app, revealing a remote location, appeared like a cryptic summons, promising alluring riches despite the unsettling chill that accompanied them. Resolute in the face of trepidation, Sarah embarked on her journey, the serpentine roads guiding her deeper into the velvety abyss of night.
Amidst her drive, she brushed past a cemetery’s gate, her heart racing as she narrowly avoided colliding with a woman draped in a ghostly white wedding gown, standing hauntingly in the road’s center. The fleeting image left her breathless, yet as she glanced back into the rearview mirror, the road lay empty, devoid of life. Shaking off the eerie sensation, Sarah pressed onward, her curiosity refusing to yield to fear’s grip.
Finally arriving at her destination, a decrepit mansion emerged from the obscurity, its ancient façade illuminated by the eerie glow of the moonlight. A lone figure awaited her on the porch, draped in antiquated attire, their features obscured beneath the brim of a hat. Suppressing her rising unease, Sarah steeled herself, focusing on the promise of reward that lay just beyond the threshold.
With wordless gestures, the enigmatic figure entered her vehicle, directing her along a path unknown. The journey unfurled in heavy silence, the wind’s whispers and rustling leaves only intensifying the palpable tension. As their expedition reached its cryptic conclusion, Sarah turned to find an empty seat beside her, the passenger vanished like a phantom’s whisper.
A wave of tremors coursed through her, her senses ensnared by the grip of fear as she gazed at the void beside her. Fueled by a relentless curiosity, she succumbed to the mansion’s pull, her steps echoing through its dimly illuminated corridors as if guided by a haunting melody.
In a chamber bathed in muted light, adorned with portraits bearing the weight of forgotten time, one painting seized her gaze – an exact replica of her enigmatic passenger. A chill, as cold as death’s breath, slid down her spine as a whispering breeze brushed past, and she turned to find the passenger once again before her. Their visage was pallid, their eyes vacant, and a malicious grin played upon their lips.
“I’ve been awaiting your arrival,” their voice murmured, the words carrying an eerie resonance that seeped into her very soul. Panic surged within her as Sarah stumbled backward, the frantic cadence of her heart matching the tempo of her racing thoughts. Her attempt at escape only led to the mansion’s distortion, ensnaring her within its mysterious clutches.
As the night unfolded its secrets, Sarah’s sanity teetered on the edge, the mansion’s walls unfurling visions of a tormented past – a saga woven with threads of betrayal, vengeance, and the lament of a tragic spirit’s curse. The passenger’s tale engulfed her senses in a macabre dance, the very fabric of reality and illusion entwining like serpents.
Days turned into a relentless continuum, Sarah’s mind a tempest of uncertainty, her presence fading like a whisper in the wind. The mansion stood empty when the proprietor finally ventured in, portraits mute and the air heavy with silence once more. Sarah had become an ephemeral echo of the mansion’s chilling narrative, her destiny forever enmeshed with the specter of the vanishing passenger.
Local lore weaved a haunting tapestry, suggesting that on that fateful day, Sarah’s destiny merged with that of Laura Starr Latta’s. For Sarah did not merely traverse the highway that night; she inadvertently invited the spirit of Laura to cross over, leaving Laura as nothing more than a harbinger of impending doom.
The keeper of the cemetery, his voice quivering with age, still recounts tales of Laura’s ethereal form manifesting on the roadsides, her presence an eerie harbinger. Chilling accounts of sightings near open graves unfurl over his decades, each story a spectral thread woven into the tapestry of the town’s history.
The legend’s allure remains unwavering, capturing the imagination of the town’s youth to such an extent that Laura’s tombstone has repeatedly vanished, only to reappear in fragmented pieces, a testament to the haunting’s unyielding grip. Upon its inscription reads:
“Gentle stranger passing by,
As you are now, once was I.
As I am now, so you must be,
Prepare yourself to follow me.”

Read More About the real 
Laura Starr Latta

Moonlight Carnage: Night of the Dogs

by Lance J. Gosnell, posted in Short Stories

Moonlit Carnage: Night of the Dogs
Written By: Lance J. Gosnell

In the heart of the Ozarks, a group of adventurous friends embarked on a camping trip under the luminous glow of a full moon. Their laughter echoed through the wilderness as they set up tents and gathered around a crackling campfire, eager to revel in the beauty of the untamed land.

But tranquility gave way to terror when the night was pierced by haunting howls. Dogs, once familiar companions, now prowled the edges of the campsite, their eyes gleaming with a frenzied hunger. The moon seemed to have triggered an unholy transformation, turning them into savage predators.

Emma, a resourceful and level-headed leader, rallied her friends together. John and Sarah armed themselves with makeshift weapons while Mike helped barricade their camp. Fear and uncertainty gripped them, but they knew they had to stand united against the growing onslaught.

As the moon rose higher, the dogs closed in, their snarls and growls creating a nightmarish symphony. Emma’s quick thinking saved Mike from a ferocious attack, while John and Sarah fought back with a fierce determination. Amidst the chaos, bonds strengthened, and they found a renewed sense of camaraderie in the face of danger.

The following day brought a somber atmosphere. As they examined the campsite, they discovered strange markings left behind by the dogs. Emma’s knowledge of folklore revealed an unsettling truth—the legend of the “Night of the Dogs,” a curse tied to ancient rituals and lunar events. The woodsman’s warning echoed in their minds.

Venturing into the woods, they set traps to capture one of the dogs. Success came at a cost, for as they examined the captive canine, they found an amulet around its neck. A spark of understanding ignited within them—a realization that this amulet held the key to breaking the curse.

But the second night brought an even fiercer attack. Desperation and fear gnawed at their resolve as they fought to protect themselves. Supplies dwindled, and the group’s spirit wavered, until a vicious dog attack left them wounded and mourning the loss of one of their own.

Amidst the darkness, they gathered in the dim light of the cabin, analyzing the amulet’s intricate engravings. Through research and discussions, they uncovered its connection to the curse, discovering its potential to weaken the dogs’ power. Determination kindled anew as they planned their strategy—a daring mission to confront the heart of the curse.

Guided by the amulet’s glow, they embarked on a treacherous journey deep into the heart of the Ozarks. The sacred clearing awaited, and within it stood the alpha dog, its eyes blazing with a supernatural rage. Armed with courage and united by their purpose, they engaged in a battle that would determine their fate.

The amulet pulsed with an otherworldly light as the friends fought the alpha dog, their determination unwavering. The moon’s hold on the dogs began to fade, their aggression lessening with each passing moment. The friends’ unity and sacrifice proved stronger than the curse that had plagued them.

As the first light of dawn broke through the horizon, the friends gathered at the campsite once more. Bruised, exhausted, yet alive, they celebrated their victory over the nightmarish terror that had gripped the Ozarks. They looked back on their journey, marked by harrowing experiences that had tested their limits and forged an unbreakable bond.

Packing their belongings, the campsite bore the scars of their struggle. With hearts filled with gratitude and relief, they returned to their ordinary lives, forever marked by the indomitable spirit that had seen them through the moonlit carnage. And as they looked up at the moon, now serene and ethereal once more, they knew that their story would be told for generations to come—a testament to the power of friendship, courage, and survival in the face of unimaginable odds.