Tastes Like Pork, Chapter 6

Posted on October 21, 2022 at 9:12 am by Alex Westhaven

New installments of this serial novel are posted every week. Need to catch up? Use these links:

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The next night, Silas was looking at the moon as well. It was just after midnight, and the woods around his cabin were quiet, save for the rattling of a slight breeze through the fall canopy. He finished the cup of coffee he’d been working on, and rinsed it out in the sink, setting it on a rack on the counter to drain. Unhurried, he went to the front door and took one last look around the cozy cabin to make sure everything was in its place before he picked up the bag he’d packed earlier. He did hate to come back to a mess. Satisfied, he walked out into the moonlight, he felt like whistling with the chorus of crickets, but he remained quiet. Stowing the bag in his truck he got in and leisurely made the drive to the other side of the mountain. He parked at the edge of Magpie, since he’d probably end up there anyway, and then hiked the two miles around to the release spot. Rachel was standing on the ledge as he walked up, and he waved. She returned the gesture, a sort of figurative passing of responsibility for their ward from one to the other.

She wanted to join him, he knew. But it was not to be, and this little piece of waving him on at least allowed her to participate in a small way.

Turning away, he checked the ground. This trail wasn’t accessible to anyone who didn’t know that it was there, and the family had taken pains to keep it that way over the past century. A single set of footprints besides his own pointed away from the ledge, and he knew they could only belong to Wentworth. Adjusting his pack over his shoulders, he pointed the headlamp built into his cap at the ground, and started to follow the footsteps. If Wentworth had followed his sisters advice, then the farthest he would’ve gone was Magpie, the only town within twenty miles. If he hadn’t followed Rachel’s advice, then he could be anywhere, but Silas would find him.

Magpie Montana was a small farming town nestled deep within a nameless valley that didn’t show up on too many maps. It had been founded by Silas’ mother and her two closest friends in 1927, though his mother, Belle Dawson, had been born in the valley. There were many rumors about why the three women had formed the town by themselves, but the version he knew was the story his mother had told before she passed away several years ago.

His mother had been a healer, like all the women in her family before her. As she told it, her great, great grandmother Carrie Atwood had come to the mountain when fleeing from the Salem witch trials in 1693 with her husband, and they’d sought shelter in the caves from the zealots who chased them all the way across the continent. Gruesome Gully was originally created to trap those zealots, and had evolved from there into a criminal purgatory of sorts. To keep the constant stream of settlers to the region out, the valley had supposedly been protected by wards until Belle had inherited the valley. His mother had been lonely by herself, and when her two best friends, Ellie Jacobs and Madeline Henry needed to move out of Meadowlark, she’d figured out how to manipulate the wards placed by her ancestors, and the three had founded Magpie together.

Details were a little murky when it came to why her two best friends, which were less friends and more like family, had needed to leave Meadowlark. But no matter how it had happened, the three had formed a thriving community, and Belle had turned the shallower parts of the mountain into a popular tourist attraction, though she still provided natural healing services to those in the town and surrounding areas on a limited basis.

Magpie had remained small by design, but The Prairie Dog, originally a bordello that Ellie Jacobs had started when she moved to the valley was still there. Now a hotel and bar, it was run by her granddaughter, Vinnie Jacobs. Silas followed Wentworth’s tracks into town, pleased when he saw that the tracks led straight to The Dog, as the locals referred to Vinnie’s place.

It was always so much easier, when Gully releases took Rachel’s advice.

Opening door to the bar, he stood just inside for a moment, scanning the nearly empty space. It had taken him just under an hour to hike back as he hadn’t been in a hurry, but even though the bar was open until two, the only people there were a couple of regulars he recognized sitting at the bar, Vinnie herself, washing some glasses and chatting with the night owls, and Emily Burrows, one of Vinnie’s servers wiping down tables and putting chairs on top to prepare for closing. He waved at Vinnie, who nodded back and pointed to Emily.

“Got something for you.” Emily left her rag on a table and came over when she saw him, her dark hair pulled up in a pile on top her head, and her blue eyes sparkling and awake even at this late hour. She always had a smile for him when he came in, and though she was friendly and obviously interested, she wasn’t pushy or overly flirtatious. He’d always thought that if he was going to date someone, she’d be a possible candidate, and not just because her curvy body was easy on the eyes. But since he had no intention of getting entangled with anyone, he saw no reason to think about it. Though he did have to remind himself not to stare at the vee where the buttons of her crisp white shirt ended, giving him a tantalizing peek at something pink and lacy underneath.

She reached into the pocket of the black apron tied over her black and white checked skirt and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“A man who came in yesterday said you’d be looking for him tonight. He asked me to give you this.”

Silas nodded and took the paper, unfolding it to read the brief message from Wentworth.

Rachel told me to get a meal, and do something I missed. I decided to take her advice. You’ll find me at the old homestead, if it’s still there. Join me.

“Shit.” Silas shook his head and shoved the paper into the pocket of his jeans. Emily looked concerned when he refocused on her. “Just a…complication. I have to run – thanks for the message.” He gave her a slight smile, and then nodded to Vinnie over her head before turning on his heel and heading straight for his truck. Normally, his prey was too preoccupied with being hunted down to cause trouble.

But it seemed that Wentworth was intent on one more kill before he went out, and Silas needed to keep that from happening if at all possible.

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Carving…Things

Posted on October 20, 2022 at 12:03 am by Alex Westhaven

Are you a pumpkin carver? Or maybe you prefer keepin’ it old school by carving turnips. What about potato skins, orange rinds or bell peppers? When you think about it, all you really need for a passable jack ‘o lantern is something with sides that won’t implode when you cut holes in it.

In the last few days, I’m seeing more and more recipe videos for fun Halloween-themed carved foods. I decided to share some of my favorites, and I think I might even try a few this weekend, only I’ll put my own spin on them, of course (not really out of any rebellious streak, but mostly because I can’t be bothered to actually follow someone else’s recipe while I’m cooking).

The Brainy Spam Mac & Cheese is my favorite so far…seriously. Carved Spam boxes filled with mac & cheese on a fried potato spiderweb?! What?! I haven’t bought Spam in…well, I’m not sure I’ve ever bought Spam, honestly (though we did occasionally have it when I was growing up). This might be worth buying some for…I love the idea and the presentation so much.

Then to finish it off, these Nutella Mummy Tarts (or I think I might just fill them with a blood-colored jam) mummies would be a delightfully light dessert.

Have you seen any fun and/or creepy recipes this year? Share ’em in the comments!

And speaking of carving things…have you downloaded your copy of Jack yet (links below)? Or are you waiting for the new Death by Veggies collection coming next week? Pre-orders for that will be starting soon. Subscribe either to the blog (in the sidebar) or to the newsletter so you don’t miss the announcement!

All of my ebooks are on sale this month for at least 40% off, and Jack (essential reading for Halloween) in ebook format is free all month long!
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Tastes Like Pork, Chapter 5

Posted on October 13, 2022 at 11:56 pm by Alex Westhaven

New installments of this serial novel are posted every week. Need to catch up? Use these links:

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Chapter 5

She could hear the heaviness and resignation in his voice. He Wentworth knew that his end was drawing near, and it was good that he was accepting it. She went to the thick stone desk on the other side of the room, and indicated that he should sit in one of the chairs facing the desk, also hewn of stone but worn enough through years of use that the seats were smooth and concave.

She settled into the large stone throne behind the desk, her own seat thickly padded with the back and seat covered in red microfiber that she’d begged Beth to get for her years ago. She’d made several of the thrones in various parts of her underworld domain, and used the blood-red fabric as a signature color for her rule.

“The next few days will be the most difficult of your life,” she began, making eye contact and holding his cold stare. “But it will end. You will have 24 hours from the time that you are released at midnight tonight. You are free to use that time however you’d like. Most people try to get as far away as they can, but I would strongly advise against that, because you have so little time and the dispatcher will find you – he will not rest until he does.” She paused to let that sink in a bit, but Wentworth never even shifted in his chair.

“Magpie is the small town at the base of this mountain. If you follow the road I release you on, it will eventually double back and end up there. My advice would be to pay a visit to Dawson’s Saloon, get yourself something to eat, buy some time with a woman, and make your peace with dying. If you still have time leftover, do something that you’ve missed since you were consigned to the Gully. Enjoy your last day. At midnight tomorrow night, the dispatcher will come for you. And once he has you, he will do to you the unspeakable acts that you have been found guilty of performing on others. Do you understand everything I’ve explained to you this far?”

Wentworth nodded, his eyes looking a little glazed. Luckily, it didn’t matter whether he understood or not. He’d sold his soul, basically.

She opened the file on her desk, and picked up the pages within. Raising one eyebrow after she’d scanned the crime roster, she looked up again. She had grown to enjoy the man’s company over the years, and as she often did with the long-stay occupants, she had forgotten his exact crimes.

“It’s I presume you know what I’m referring to?”

When course nodded. “I – –” he cleared his throat. “I do.”

Rachel closed the file and slid it away from her. At the end of the retribution cycle, you will be dispatched. And by that I mean you will be killed, just to be clear.”

Wentworth nodded, his face ashen, and his eyes weary. “I understand,” he said. “Am I allowed to ask how long the retribution. Is?”

“It will be as long as the dispatcher deems it necessary.”

Later that night, Rachel escorted Mr. Wentworth through a maze of passages to a small opening on the nonpublic side of the mountain. Stepping just outside onto a wide ledge just outside the entrance, she gazed wistfully out on the quiet world shrouded in near-darkness with just a tiny sliver of moon barely hanging in the sky.

“It’s time,” she said, one arm swinging wide as if opening a door. “You are free to go. Use your next 24 hours wisely, and may you know peace when you lay down to rest.”

Wentworth hesitated for only a moment before taking a tentative step onto the dirt road outside the cave. The world had changed a lot since he’d taken his first step in, and she wondered what insights he’d have just from the small piece he could experience in Magpie. Silas would report back, she knew, but he wasn’t exactly a hard-nosed journalist.

Taking another tentative step, and then one more away from the cave, the man finally started to jog. Rachel watched until she couldn’t see him any longer, and then, with one more wistful glance at the moon, she turned and went back to her dark and peaceful confinement.

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The Scariest Thing

Posted on October 12, 2022 at 12:13 am by Alex Westhaven

I was thinking recently about our Halloween decorations, and how different people and kids are about what they perceive as “scary”. Some kids won’t even come up the walk, because the whole mood of our yard is just way too spooky. Some kids just want to set off all the props repeatedly. And some just rush up the walk, barely noticing the actual decor because they’re focused on the food (seriously – can’t blame ’em).

Having been decorating for Halloween for nearly twenty years now with a husband who adores the gory, bloody stuff, I’ve become pretty immune to most of it. I appreciate the decor for the spooky mood, and love everything in the glow of colored lights with fog swirling around it all, but that’s more of an artistic appreciation, rather than something to get my heart pumping. And I *love* the sound of spooky nursery rhymes and organ music. Who doesn’t, especially when the moon is full and high, right?

I think the thing most likely to give me chills would be a silent spectre flying through the night. A wispy something-or-other barely brushing past on its ghostly way to who-knows-where…or what. Something you feel more than you see, and sense more than you hear. It’s the quiet things you have to look out for, after all.

What is your personal “scariest thing”? The thing that gets your adrenaline running, and starts the what-if scenarios spinning through your head?

What makes you want to run, while simultaneously freezing you in place?

All of my ebooks are on sale this month for at least 40% off, and Jack (essential reading for Halloween) in ebook format is free all month long!
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Tastes Like Pork, Ch. 4

Posted on October 7, 2022 at 12:07 am by Alex Westhaven

New installments of this serial novel are posted every week. Need to catch up? Use these links:

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Rachel moved through the dark passageway by feel, having spent over a hundred years exploring and traversing the passages between caverns in this cave. Technically, as long as she never left the system of caverns in this mountain, she would continue to live indefinitely. It was all part of being the Primary Guardian of Gruesome Gully.

She went through mental and physical cycles where she thought maybe it wasn’t worth it to continue on below–ground, many more when the thought of leaving was inconceivable. But now she was so used to this life – a life among the worst of the worst who had ever plagued mankind – but she couldn’t really imagine living among normal people, much less remember what life had even been like before she had been consigned to the Gully.

There was a narrow staircase just around the next bend that she had used a pickax to carve out herself after the sloped mineral path had become too slippery to walk down after decades of use. Her feet knew exactly where the edges of each jagged step were, and where the rivulets of water ran down on either side to make tiny waterfalls. She didn’t have a light, and didn’t need one. Much like animals that evolved and mutated to live underground where they didn’t need eyes, her eyes had grown weak and she wasn’t sure she would even be able to see if she left the confines of dark caverns. But she knew all of the passageways, all the dead ends, and all the hidden boundaries within her domain.

And she was also very good at sensing when another warm body was near.

She paused on the stairway, next to a small channel in the rock to her left that she knew was a dead-end.

“You won’t get out that way,” she said, her voice low and matter-of-fact. “It’s a dead end. And you probably won’t find your way back either. Would you like me to show you how to get back to the Gully?”

There was a rustling in the channel, and she could almost feel whoever was there trying to make up their minds. After a long pause, she heard the rustling again, and then finally, a familiar voice.

“It doesn’t really matter. I did the math, and I know that I’m up next. One in, one out. That’s the rule, right?”

“That’s correct, Mr. Wentworth.” Rachel said. “I was just coming to get you actually, and prepare you for what happens next. Come out, and we will talk.”

She felt his presence move closer, the warmth of his body as it moved out onto the stairway next to hers. The fear enveloping him was nearly palpable.

“Come with me. There’s no need to go back down now, unless there’s something you need to get.”

At his grunt of denial, she started walking down the stairs and felt him follow her as requested. She led him away from the channel that went back to the Gully, and down a small passage to the right that led to a small open cavern she used for just this purpose.

The Discharge Chamber was lit by the same orange red glow that diffused through the main Gruesome Gully cavern. It came in through a large rectangular window that had been hewn into the wall overlooking the Gully. Rachel moved to the opposite wall, where a grid of creches had been chipped out. They were used to store the personal effects of Gully occupants until they were released.

Mr. Wentworth’s items were in the top right corner, one space over from the first. She stood on a step-stool to retrieve his things, and then placed them on the table in the center of the room.

“These are the items you had with you when you first came in. I’ll give you a moment to change, and then we’ll go over what happens next.

She walked back to the doorway and stood in the center with her back to the room. She could hear him shuffling around behind her for a few quick minutes, and then he spoke.

“I’m ready.”

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Into the Earth

Posted on October 5, 2022 at 8:57 pm by Alex Westhaven

Sale alert!

All of my ebooks are on sale this month for at least 40% off! Even better, Jack (essential reading for Halloween) in ebook format is free all month long! Find them at your favorite etailer:
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My first foray into a cave was as a Girl Scout when I was very young. I don’t remember much about it, but I remember the area around the cave, overgrown with thick vegetation and the constant reminders to be wary of Poison Ivy (which at the time, I still wasn’t completely sure what to look for, but I kept from brushing against small bushes with bare skin just in case).

The cave itself was very cool, with artwork on the walls and I remember how cool the air was, and how earthy everything smelled. It was like a whole other world.

And then we went to Lewis & Clark Caverns, taking a tour down into the deep, dark depths of other-worldliness that put the first “cave” to shame. Learning about stalagmites and stalactites, squeezing through small passages and crawling through short tunnels, watching water drip ever-so-slowly in a steady cadence from one smooth, shiny point to the next, and feeling the different textures of minerals underneath my feet…it was all just too amazing for words.

Then there was the black out – where the entire tour group huddled up in one of the caverns, and the tour guide would turn out the lights for just a minute. The kind of blackness that envelopes you is something you don’t ever forget. It’s so…complete. That there are species of animals that can live and survive in those environments is truly amazing.

I went back once as an adult, but it’s been awhile, and I’d definitely like to go again (or to another one). My fictional Gruesome Gully (which you can read about more on Friday) is located deep beneath a mountain, and is loosely based on the caverns we have here in Montana (I’m sure there are similar ones elsewhere). While we haven’t seen any lava rivers in ours (which is probably a very good thing), I added one to the Gruesome Gully mountain as both a decent source of light and heat, an extra source of torment for the souls consigned to the Gully, and also as an homage to our nearby super volcano underneath Yellowstone National Park. Could a normal human survive that close to a lava river with minimal venting? I think not. But that’s what fiction and mystical penal colonies are for – right?

What if you could? What if there was no other choice, because something happened on the surface and the only other option was death? Could we eventually evolve to live in caverns with lava as our main source of heat and light?

Interesting questions to ponder, methinks.

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Tastes Like Pork: Ch. 3 (Serial Fiction)

Posted on September 30, 2022 at 12:16 am by Alex Westhaven

New installments of this serial novel are posted every week. Need to catch up? Use these links:

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Chapter 3

“It’s awfully quiet,” Silas remarked as he and Rachel watched Ms. Albright disappear into the orange-tinged mist. “Do the others know they have a new Gullymate?”

Rachel held up one finger, a long, red stiletto nail sharply accenting her point. “Wait for it.”

A few seconds later, the screaming started.

“It’s been about a year since they had fresh meat to play with. They were all pretty excited, but fighting amongst themselves over who got to be on the welcoming committee. I think Ms. Albright is going to have a rough couple of weeks, until they get tired of playing with her.”

Though Silas knew well what that entailed having been forced to watch a few times as a boy, he didn’t flinch. It was all just part of what they did, and what their family had done for over a century. Mental distance was required. And in his case, necessary to keeping certain…proclivities in check.

“Has Mr. Wentworth been informed of his release?”

Rachel shook her head. “No. I decided to wait until Ms. Albright was securely in place. I didn’t want another unfortunate incident like we had last time. I will notify him now, and organize his release at midnight. Does that give you enough time to prepare?”

“My preparations are complete, and a midnight release will be perfect. The moon will be full tomorrow night’s, which will aid in the hunt.” He could feel the excitement he normally kept locked away tight bubbling just under the surface, and he fought hard to keep it under control for just a little longer.

“Very good. Enjoy yourself, brother. I know these hunts are your only real release. I hope this one is satisfying enough to tide you over until the next.” With a nod, she went back through the nearly hidden tunnel at the side of the small cavern. Silas looked out over the expanse of the Gully one more time, and then turned to take his leave as well, going back through the wet, narrow passageway he’d just come through not ten minutes before.

A certain type of person was required to do what he did as Dispatcher. As a boy, he had often been told that he was the way he was specifically to fulfill his destiny in the family. He had spent decades learning how to control his baser urges and instincts, yet they still built up inside him over time, making him surly and somewhat difficult to be around, or so his sisters said.

It was forbidden for any of the Gully Guardians to touch an occupant, until that occupant was released. At that point ( after the twenty-four hour grace period that is), it was his duty to mete out final retribution for the sins that they had created committed. Thanks to his innate personality, and almost complete lack of empathy, it was also his pleasure to do so.

He and his sisters had been granted an extraordinarily long life, in order to continue caring for and maintaining the Gully system. Someday soon he would need to reproduce, as would each of his sisters, in order to ensure that the Gully was properly managed after the three of them were gone.

Back in his office space, he sat down at the desk, and looked thoughtfully at the portraits hanging on either side of the cavern’s entrance. His mother and father had been well-aligned with each other, and made it their life’s work to create the Gully system. His father had died a victim of the Gully inhabitants, which is why no one but Rachel was allowed to interact with the occupants.

His mother, Belle Dawson, had only just died ten years back, and Silas always wondered whether she’d died because her body actually gave out, or if she’d just been tired of living. Either way, he suspected most of the answers to life’s questions were in the journals he’d watched her write in when he was a child, but they’d been lost almost immediately when she died – an odd and coincidental occurrence, to be sure.

They’d scoured the mine and surrounding area, as well as the parks in the area to no avail. His mother had loved being out in nature – it was like she couldn’t breath when she wasn’t, so the natural place for her journals would be in some wild, overgrown yet protected spot.

Unfortunately, that could describe nearly half the State of Montana.

Securing the record books back in the vault behind him, Silas stretched and then picked a box up from the floor that contained some of the supplies he’d need the next day. He carried them out of the mine, waving at Beth as he passed the information center. It had been her idea to create a tourist destination from the mine when people had started to get curious about why she spent all her time up here. The idea had turned into a full-time business, and it easily paid the bills every month.

Leading tour groups several times a day also had the added perk of allowing them to tell people the stories they wanted to hear while keeping them away from the deeper, more dangerous parts of the mine.

At the back of the parking lot, Silas opened the tailgate of his black Dodge Ram and set the box in the bed, closing the tailgate again. He climbed up into the truck and brought it to life, rolling both windows down to let in the cool mountain air as he drove home to his cabin on the family property just outside Magpie. It was time to rest.

Soon it would be time to hunt.

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Tastes Like Pork: Chapter 2

Posted on September 24, 2022 at 2:41 am by Alex Westhaven

New installments of this serial novel are posted every week. Need to catch up? Use these links:

Chapter 1

Tastes Like Pork – A Gruesome Gully Novel

Chapter 2

“Sign here please. In blood.” Silas pointed to her name in the book as the women drew closer, his voice raspy from lack of use.

Ms. Albright’s green eyes widened and her hands shook. “In blood?” She looked at the desk, as if looking for a pen. “I don’t…understand. How –”

Beth reached around to pick up the sharp fountain pen Silas had set beside the ledger. “Here,” she held it out to Ms. Albright. “Use the tip to puncture your finger.”

Albright took the pen, looked at the tip, and then raised her eyebrows. She held her left index finger out and poked the tip with the pen. It didn’t work the first time, and she looked up, first at Beth, then Silas. They waited silently. It was her responsibility to complete the task, and they’d helped as much as they could.

When she finally drew blood and managed to sign her name with it, she put the pen down and gave Silas a confused look.

“I guess I expected some sort of magic to happen when I did that,” she said. A nervous giggle escaped her lips, and Silas knew they’d be hearing that giggle a lot when she was established in The Gully. Inhabitants tended to go a little crazy, especially during the first six months or so.

He stood and nodded to Beth, who returned the gesture and left without so much as a backward glance.

Albright watched her go, and then turned back to Silas. “So that’s it, then.”

“Follow me.” Stepping out from behind the desk he walked to the back wall of the cavern. It appeared smooth from a distance, but once closer an opening in the stone became apparent, just wide enough for a person to walk through. The passage was dark, and smelled earthy and wet. Their footsteps squished through the thin layer of moisture on the floor. Water dripped at random intervals, a not-quite-steady sound that Silas found soothing, but others tended to find disconcerting.

There was a small gasp behind him, and Silas imagined she’d probably touched a wall trying to keep up. It was pretty slimy and and had a slick, unappealing texture in most areas. In others, it was sharp enough to cut fingertips.

The passage was narrow and disquieting by design, and the average person would have turned back long before the sounds of the Gully became discernible. The occasional shrieks and screams were just punctuation for the near constant moaning, whining, and general muttering that made up the hum of Gully life.

Silas could feel Ms. Albright slowing behind him. Most of them did at this point, thinking that maybe in the dark they could run back to freedom before he could catch them. She followed in their footsteps, literally, running for her life, as it were.

He didn’t bother going after her. This served as a good lesson in what it meant to sign a contract in blood. He stood quietly, listening for the inevitable.

Soon there was a sharp cry of pain, and he knew she had hit the boundary where they’d entered the passage through the cavern wall. He waited again, until he heard footsteps coming up behind him. Perhaps a bit of a limp this time, also a common occurrence.

“Signing your name in blood sealed the contract you made to be remanded to this place. You will not be able to breach the boundaries until you are formally released.”

“You could have told me that from the start.” Her voice was quieter more subdued.

“Some lessons are better learned on your own. Now come. It’s not far now.”

Silas continued down the dark passageway, the sounds getting louder as they drew closer. There were shouts and murmurs, cheers, and screams. The first time he’d heard it, it had been very unnerving. He could feel the anxiety wafting off their newest occupant as they grew closer to the cacophony, and the sulfur smell became more pronounced.

They rounded a corner, and were immediately at the mouth of the Gully portal. They stepped onto a curved ledge big enough for four people that hung out over what looked like a whole other world steeping in an orange red glow that permeated the entire space. Stalagmites and other large rock formations dotted the massive cavern floor, and there were actual houses tucked here and there into the otherworldly landscape on either side of what appeared to be a river of lava. Sulfur wasn’t the only nasty smell wafting up from below, and the waves of heat rising up and over the ledge was almost visible, shimmering on the air

Ms. Albright’s came to the edge and stared over into her new home, her jaw dropping open, and then quickly closing again.

“Wow.” She pulled the collar of her shirt up over her mouth and nose. “That is beautiful and horrifying all at once. People actually live there?”

“If you call it living.” Rachel, Silas’s sister, had come up to stand beside Ms. Albright as the woman was gawking over her new home.

Albright jumped, turning to Rachel with a gasp at the new voice. “Oh! I didn’t see you there.”

Rachel wore a long robe matching the one that Silas wore. The hood was up and partially obscured her face, so that only her nose and mouth were truly visible.

“Listen carefully, Ms. Albright.” Rachel’s voice was low and earthy. “While you are here, you cannot die. You can, however, feel pain. And you will. There are no rules of conduct in Gruesome Gully, and it bears that name for good reason. The other inhabitants can do what they like to you and you in turn can do whatever you’d like to them. This means you can lose limbs or appendages, with the exception that no one can take your head. Each day you will wake up as you are now, with all parts intact.

On the day you are released, you will have 24 hours to enjoy your freedom. Then Silas will hunt you down and take your life. Do you understand what I’ve told you?”

Ms. Albright nodded as she stared into the cavern, and the blank expression on her face told Silas that the severity of her fate was finally sinking in.

Rachel tapped her on the shoulder. “Answer verbally, please. Do you understand the rules I’ve laid out for you?”

The woman nodded. “Sorry – yes. I understand.”

“Good. Thank you.” Rachel centered one hand at Ms. Albright’s back, and pushed her off the ledge.

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Are You Afraid of the Dark?

Posted on September 20, 2022 at 11:09 pm by Alex Westhaven

Is fall “falling” in your area? It’s starting to here, gradually, like a late-night fog creeping ever-so-slowly shroud the world in mystery.

I love nighttime, and I love the dark. Which is a big part of why I love fall, I think. Darkness falls early, and the most peculiar thing happens. Sidewalks, yards and even streets that were busy at the same time of evening become nearly deserted, the people and their pets having scuttled under the rug like so many cockroaches scattering when someone turns on the light.

I love the quieter, less frenetic world of fall, winter and early spring. My husband and I were discussing this just last night, and our main questions were:

– Why are people so afraid of the dark?
– Should they be afraid of people like us, who don’t fear the dark?

What about you? Are you afraid of the dark?

If you answered yes…do you know why?

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Friday Fiction: Tastes Like Pork, Chapter 1

Posted on September 16, 2022 at 12:24 am by Alex Westhaven

Tastes Like Pork – A Gruesome Gully Novel

Chapter 1

The air was a cool fifty-three degrees in the small cavern where Silas Dawson sat at a massive desk shuffling through the pages of an old black leather-bound book. He’d made the desk years ago from old railroad ties taken from the mine further toward the surface, split in half and held together in three places by thick black-metal bands, supported by four more of the thick wooden ties, one in each corner. He’d made the chair in a similar fashion, with wood planks from old mine supports and more thick metal bands to hold them together, and the legs and arms from bits of old metal left lying around after the mine had closed.

A thin black robe hung over the back of the chair, and he pulled it on over his clothes, buttoning up the front. Silas spent so much time in the cavern that his oilskin pants, gray knit sweater, and black leather hiking boots kept him plenty warm, but the robe was part of the initiation ritual that had been established over a hundred years ago. It did tend to set a somber mood when those coming in or out saw him wearing it.

Two hurricane lamps sat at either end of the desk, their flames flickering softly through the spectacular display of stalagmites and stalactites that peppered the area. Some were slick with moisture as water dripped slowly from them, leaving more minerals behind. Others had long dried and merely maintained their alien aesthetic.

His sister, Beth, would be down shortly to deliver the newest resident of what they called Gruesome Gully. The Gully was a sort of extended purgatory for certain individuals who had committed grave crimes but hadn’t been convicted for whatever reason. The families of the victims requested “disposal” from Beth, and it was her job to research their claim and decide whether or not the accused was guilty. If she found enough evidence to determine guilt, the accused was consigned to Gruesome Gully, to serve out a “life” sentence of torture and abuse by the other inhabitants.

The latest was a woman, one Cassie Albright, who had apparently lured several children to her ranch and then kept them captive to be used as “live food” for her pigs. Beth had grumbled about the research required, as she’d had to look up several summoning spells to make her determination, but in the end, the children’s spirits had confirmed the accusation. And then Beth had found three more children in the cabin and the arm of a fourth in the pen itself.

The Gully was always at capacity with an even one hundred people, so admitting a new person meant the oldest current occupant would be set free. Occupants were released in the same order that they were admitted, so Silas opened the ledger to the first page and ran is finger down the older records, all with red lines drawn through them. Four pages in, he found the next person without a red line: one Timothy Wentworth, cannibal from the early 1900s. Drawing a red line through Wentworth’s name, Silas then turned to the last page of the ledger and added an entry for Ms. Albright. He wrote her name, and ‘kidnapping, feeding children to pigs’ as the reason for entry, and the date, and then he left the ledger open on the desk, turning it around to face the entrance of the cavern. Ms. Albright would have to sign the ledger in blood for the transaction to be complete.

That done, Silas retrieved Wentworth’s file from the cabinet behind him, and laid that open on the desk so he could study for the retribution he would soon mete out. Occupants were immortal for as long as they remained in the Gully. If they decided to leave or if their name was called, their immortality was revoked and they were released. They were given twelve hours to run, and then they were hunted down and killed in the same manner they had killed or otherwise hurt their victims. Silas and his sister Rachel shared in the record-keeping duties, but it was his job to hunt former occupants down after they left and make sure they were properly dispatched.

Soft footsteps echoed ever so slightly outside the chamber, and Silas looked up just in time to see Beth in her matching black robe escorting Ms. Albright into the cavern. The woman looked scared, and rightly so. Being consigned to the Gully was truly a fate worse than death for most, and some occupants had actually chosen to leave early rather than serve out their sentence.

It made no difference to him, as long as retribution was served in the end.

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