Ok, I think I am getting old. I mean some of the things I used to like to do just doesn’t make sense to me. I used to surf alot back in the day and used to be the first one at the job as an electrician. All that changed when hospitalized with meningitis. Now, I like to write a lot! I think I may be writing so much because of the damage caused from the illness. Meningitis in case you didn’t know causes the lining of the brain to sell or something like that. Eventually, if untreated your left with some serious problems with your cognitive skills. It sucks and mine was left untreated for months until finally I collapsed, a couple days left till death.
So, I survived but no without some problems. For starters, my brain doesn’t process the way it should. I am also sensitive to light now but I really like the outdoors. So, it’s a double edged sword, damn if I do and damn if I don’t. The writing has helped me and given me an outlet when life seemed so bleak. It was my escape from reality and now I have a few books written. I especially like writing short horror books but really have a rough time if a critique slams the crap out of my work. It’s tough when you have an ailment. But, I continue to try and that’s all I can do. My latest short is entitled ‘Evil In A Small Town’. This is a short horror that I thought up emulating where I live now. I’m in North Carolina which has those little small towns where everyone knows each other and their business. If you think you’re going to move in these towns anonomously, be for warned, it won’t last long. In a larger town like San Diego where I am from, people could care less who you are or where you’re from. Just do your thing and you’re good to go. Here, you may get stopped walking to your car by your friendly neighbor who will embark on telling you their life story as well as their friends. I’m not used to all that, everyone has their secrets and it should stay that way..\
The book is kind of like that, a small town, a couple traveling, a motel and things that start to go bump in the night. I get the ideas from this place in North Carolina where you are bound to see street names like Cross Creek, Old Mills Road, Tobacco Lane…you get my drift. I think you may be getting the picture. My last short was entitled “Tina” which again was about a couple who begin to take care of a farm after Tina’s mother passes. What transpires is a strange macabre trip into the mind of madness. While the books probably could use a good editor, I have to wait until I win the lottery on that seeing that even after spending 4 years in the US Marines, two in the Navy Reserves and 12 years as a commercial electrician I am finally on the disabled list dependent on ol’ Uncle Sam which doesn’t pay enough to afford a nice porta john. Either way, I am a survivor, I survived homelessness, my father’s suicide, childhood abuse, a few failed romances and finally a near death trip that cost me dearly. So, if you do read some of my stuff please don’t be too harsh. It does make me sad to see that most people would rather watch Utube videos than read a book but that could be because I come from a different era, a tail end baby boomer. Either way, if you write or read good on you. We seem to be a dying breed.
My Latest beginning of Evil In A Small Town.
Evil In A Small Town
By Dave Donahue
For the better part of a century if not decades more, Boonestown has been a place where it’s residents for the most part kept to themselves. They were polite and cordial to each other but seldom did more than display niceties to those who they came across in town. For, as calm and serene of a place Boonestown seemed, there were some dirty little secrets. Secrets no one of this place talked about. Secrets of the past which were never to be revealed to anyone, especially outsiders.
Not surprisingly, this town never got the publicity it would have if it’s secrets were revealed. Not until now anyway. Sure, Boonestown had it’s bars, it’s grocery stores and even a little place the retired could go and play weekly Bingo. However, there was an aire about the place. For a person who was not familiar or kin to family in the town, one might get the impression that resident’s were somewhat stuck up. Such was not the case, an outsider was an outsider and Boonestown resident’s could see one a mile away.
On a cold brisk morning a car drove into the town. Loaded up with supplies that would appear to be ready for an apocalypse, the passengers in the vehicle were on a cross coutry trek. Unbeknown to them, they had just for all intents and purposes, crossed over into the twightlight zone. The main street which they drove onto fittingly named Boones Street seemed welcoming enough. Albeit, the older couple who stood staring at the car as they slowly moved down the street. The two watched with suspicious eyes, nudging each other as the car passed in front of them. The driver, Carl, was a tech support representative out of New York city who in all honesty, had never been in a town such as Boonestown. Looking back at the couple he smiled, then to his wife Sharon.
“Well, that was interesting.”
She grinned and looked up at the sign which bore the name ‘Boonestown’.
“Hmmm, no welcome sign?”
Carl smirked as he pulled into a dirt parking space in front of the local motel/hotel.
“Guess not, looks like we just entered into the town of the lost.”
The woman stepped out of the car, a larger style SUV and stretched as she looked around.
“Well, this looks like such a nice little motel! I love the way it’s so….hmmm…simple, don’t you dear?”
Carl scratched his head as he looked up at the three story Victorian style motel which realistically was just an old house transformed into a temporary dwelling for passer throughs.
“It’s uh…definitely got some character.” He opened the trunk of the SUV.
“Oh, c’mon Carl, where’s your sense of adventure?” She grabbed her handbag off the seat of the vehicle.
“It’s just so old.” He said and began pulling out luggage.
“Wait…we should go in and see there is any available rooms, don’t you think?”
Cal nodded and begun a slow walk to the front door of motel. Nothing much excited him anymore, the old adage of ‘Been there, done that” was fitting for the man. At 50 years old, he had come to the sobering reality that life was what it was and at his age, what he had was about all he would ever have. Having joined the armed services at an early age he embarked on a life that had been mostly an uphill battle. Now, he was tired both physically and mentally, the zest for life drained by the constant demand from work and home life. He was ready for a break. This was it, or so he thought.
The door to the motel creaked open, the hinge in obviously need of some lubricant. It should have been a sign of things to come but to Sharon it looked to her as a taste of rennasance. She should have known better. The front desk was equally in need of assistance and repair and as Carl walked to the counter, the floorboards creaked under him. The man behind the desk, an older man obviously pushing his late 70’s squinted at the two, temporarilly blinded by the sunlight streaming in from the outside.
“Ahh, so how you two? He asked still squinting yet asking in such a way as the three had been friends for decades.
Sharon took the reigns and answered cheerfully.
“Just fine sir, I’m Sharon and this is my husband Jack. We are looking for a room for a few days and just couldn’t resist stopping here. It’s such a wonderful motel, so cute from the outside.”
The man, still squinting eyed the two behind a pair of small spectacles intended to read the fine print.
“Well maam, you stopped at the right place and yes we have a room suitable for just the two of you. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.” he smiled a toothless grin that while devoid of any teeth still had a charming appeal.
Carl spoke. “So, we just need a room for a few days, three to be exact. What’s the damage going to cost me for that?”
Carl was never the sort to display any emotion especially to strangers and more so when it comes to the bottom line. He had a difficult time trusting people and those he didn’t know were to him, more of an obstacle in getting where he needed to be. He was the way he was and Sharon balanced out the two were her more outgoing and sympathetic side.
“Well sir,” the man could obviously sense Carl’s impatience and spoke as matter of fact as he could through a toothless grin. He calculated the cost on an old push type register which rings when opened. “It’s going to run you approximately 120.00 total with a daily rate of 38.50. Tax included of course.” He looked up at Carl looking for some type of aknowledgement and acceptance of the terms.
“That’s fine.” Carl replied opening a thick wallet full of credit cards, gas cards and prepaid who know what. He handed over the man his credit card who then swiped in on an older style credit card machine. The man separated the receipt from the carbon and handed Carl his part of the contract.
Carl began walking back towards the front door of the motel.
“Wait!” The desk clerk called after him as Sharon herself turned to follow her husband. Carl swirled to face the man holding a brochure and a room key out in front of him. “Welcome to Boonestown, I certainly hope you find your stay exciting and full of surprises.” Again the toothless grin appeared which to Carl, seemed to take the form of something more sinister, almost evil. He hesitated, then took the brochure.