It Stalks the Screams, is a brand-new novel I am working on—already finished, just gotta find a job to finance it! 😫.
Based in the 1940s, it’s about a young man named Jack, who is having night terrors. Every night in his Cold harbor home, he has a night terror, and every time he wakes up, he completely forgets what they’re about. His nightmares descend on him worse each night. Follow Jack as he stumbles deeper into the Netherworld of his dreams, battling the unimaginable evils within, before it engulfs not only him, but all of Cold Harbor.
Note: Since the book is still being proofread, there may be some errors not seen.
Chapter 1
A’ezdelinore Maul
At the stroke of midnight, there is a severed head that rolls out from under the bed.
It moans in pain, and leaves a bloodied trail, with eyes wide open. Too afraid to move I hide under the covers, and every following hour, I wake up. With no memory of the dream.
The cold morning brought rain with it again.
I lifted the window to let the mist in, the sounds of the docks and chimes of the ship just barely audible. What an abhorrently grey sky, but the pale white overcast was always sleep inducing to me. There were times where the stubborn blue sky would be just visible from behind the cold grey clouds, but it would never remain.
The dream I had, I know whatever it was, was something terrible…But like a curse, every time I tried to remember, there was some kind of force preventing me. Either the memory block was an act of God, or a curse from evil, either way, it happened every night…At the stroke of the hour. I shook my head, wiped the sweat from my hair, and went downstairs. The hallways were dark, but inviting. Most of my furniture was brown, with decorative fabrics for the curtains.
Matching the floors underneath, the inescapable sound of rain was all around, muddled by the interior of my house. It was like a cave with furniture, and when you’re an insomniac like me, every hour is a sleeping man’s hour—oh the curse of being tired and alert… Opening the door, I clamored outside to stare at everything, cold mechanical cars were passing by; drivers with expressionless faces on both the men and women. Like the cars owned them, or perhaps the road they were driving on were their masters.
Me, I was always a horse rider, but ever since my favorite and only horse Charleson died last summer, I’ve found incentive to just walk everywhere, or stay home. I knew that another round of laundry would be instore for me should I sully my attire. Yesterday a rain walk had done more than ruin my apparel, it had also ruined some of the cigarettes I had with me at the time.
A shame that…Not only was I an insomniac wreck, but it appears I was an addict as well. Elaine believes that the cigarettes might be what’s causing the night terrors, and what’s been keeping me up at night—like always, she was the voice of reason. Thinking I’ll brave the weather and go see her. I reached into my pocket, pulled the withered pack of cigarettes out and sat them on the table, pulled out a pocket watch to check the time: 7:45 AM.
With an inviting click I stuck it back in my shirt pocket, and made way into the light drizzling rain once more to the town grocery again. There was always something about me in the rain that went together, like beauty and pain. Like blood and a wound. Like agony and child birth, or perhaps like youth and joy. Whichever came first.
I lived in the seaside town of Cold Harbor. Cold Harbor was a mundane place, with most people being old and stubborn. At times I wondered if I was the only person in town that dreamed, or had nightmares. Along the sidewalk, the rain covered it like a blanket, broken by my every footprint. A splash here, a splash there. A soul there everywhere, and without a care.
People here were mostly fishers, seamen or sailors, or the daughters of sailors…That’s what Elaine was. The beautiful daughter of an old sailor, and virtually the only youthful and beautiful thing here in this godforsaken town, other than the rain. Her father had went out to sea one day and never returned, the old grocery store owner took her in; and despite her father’s vanishing, she never once lost her innocence, or her charm. She had beautiful flowing blonde hair, that she always tied in a bun with the strands hanging softly over her face, and blue eyes as angelic as the ocean. She was far in contrast to my dark brown foreboding hair, and deep brown eyes. Everybody at the harbor here knew I was infatuated by her, and I couldn’t walk two steps in a store and talk to somebody without them recommending I ask for her hand in marriage.
I couldn’t tell if it was out of sarcasm, or annoyance why others cared so much about the two of us being together…Perhaps, the people in this town were just as bored as I was, and us being betrothed reminded them of their youthful vigorous days. Nonetheless, even Elaine seemed to take pity on me. She was my lovely little voice of reason, in this quaint and reasonless hamlet. Out front of the grocery store, white rose bushes greeted anybody walking in—the roses around here loved the infinite rain. To me, a rose was just a plant, but that didn’t stop me from clipping a couple long ones from the bushes for her, using nothing but my fingernails.
Best to not let the store owner Abbot find that I hurt his plants, else he’d have my head.
Three of the best white roses I could pinch off, and I was heading in the door with a clever grin on my face. The store was dark, but bright at the same time, crates and what not Elaine had to stock each day scattered everywhere. Sure enough stocking the shelves in front of the store, there she was…Always smiling for some unsung reason in her white blouse, even her smile brightened the store.
With one hand over the other stocking the shelf full of throat lozenges, she suddenly stopped when I held out the roses.
“J…Jack!” Elaine smiled, “You’re back! And you brought me roses? Tee hee…Awww, you shouldn’t have!”
We hugged each other, and I smiled and shrugged.
“Yeah, well…They aren’t much. I just thought I’d brighten your day a little.”
“They’re wonderful honey!” And just like that, she kissed me, and I kissed her back.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea honey…Why not take the rest of the day off?”
Elaine scratched her head and looked over her shoulder. “Oh no…What if Abbot gets mad? I can’t just leave him here by himself…”
“Oh come on. He doesn’t care. Every day I come over and we run off, every day you say the same thing! And yet we both run off together anyways. Nobody ever cares in this town but us, give yourself a break!”
Elaine smiled a playful smirk, as I continued.
“Besides, it’s raining today, perhaps it’s time to close up shop early.”
“Hmph, I bet just like you did yesterday, you’ll be buying a pack of cigarettes from Old Man Fredrick Johnson again…”
“Heh, at this point I just go in there to strike up a conversation. Anything to break up the monotony. Besides, with you here, things are a little bit more interesting.”
Elaine rolled her eyes and grinned. “Alright, alright! Let’s quickly sneak out before Abbot catches us again. Maybe we can place these roses in the vase on your kitchen table with the others.”
Looking all around, me and Elaine snuck out the door and away from the empty grocery. Holding her warm soft hand, we were both soaked by the rain in every way. I looked over toward the newspaper stand, tossing a quarter in it, I cleverly took it and used it as an umbrella substitute over my betroth’s head. She chuckled, and together we skipped off toward the convenient store.
I opened the door for her and we both went inside soaked like two wet dogs. The inside of Old Man Fredrick’s store was always warm, chasing way the cold. And with Elaine snuggled under my arm, there was no way one could ever consider freezing.
“Back again, are we Mr. Oliveson?” Old man Johnson cooed. He was always standing right in the middle behind his counter, alienated from his completely vacant store.
“I see you’ve brought Mrs. Harper with you today, usually you leave her outside the store.”
Johnson’s voice was always mundane and monotoned, like the school teacher that expects you to do everything right, yet fail at everything at the same time.
Elaine laid her head on my shoulder and smiled. “Hello Mr. Johnson. I think Jack wants to buy another pack of cigarettes again.”
John lifted his head. “Oh really? Last time, to my surprise he bought a bottle of whiskey with his cigarettes. I assume he hasn’t finished that bottle already?”
I gave a nervous chuckle, and tugged my collar. Elaine frowned sullenly.
“Actually, I didn’t plan on buying anything today Old Man John, I wanted to know if you had anything to cure bad dreams?”
Johnson lifted the glasses across his dark skin, and scratched his balding head.
“Having those night terrors again, are we? I’m afraid there is nothing in the store here that will help you. Other than what you’ve already bought of course.”
“No…” Elaine frowned, “I tried telling Jack his bad habits are probably what’s keeping him up at night. How about dreamcatchers? Do you happen to have any of those? My mother used to make some back before she got sick.”
Old Man Johnson to my surprise lifted a brow. “Ah, yes…A dreamcatcher? Now that is indeed quite the shift in your usual store purchase Mr. Oliveson. On the contrary I did used to have a couple that came in from the Blackfeet tribe years ago…But the Medium Mrs. Sullivan bought them all up months ago. Not only did the gypsy buy them up, but she also went ahead and bought all the tools to make them as well. She really is a stingy woman, but unlike you Mr. Oliveson, she’s a paying customer…”
I stretched my collar again, but then…An idea popped into my mind, and I widened my eyes.
“…You say that gypsy woman Mrs. Sullivan…She bought all the dreamcatchers? Does she still give readings?”
“Yes, clearly she still does readings.” Went Johnson, “If you must, you can go find her, after you’re done playing adventuring with young Elaine here. It’s painfully obvious you two are made for each other. If I were you Jack, I’d marry her before she and you get too old and sterile.” The three of us all smiled, and Elaine blushed like a red rose.
“Come on Jack! Let’s see if we can’t find that old gypsy Ms. Sulliven!”
“No Elaine…The rain is cold, and you’re soaked! Let’s just come back to my place, you can spend the night by the fire.”
Elaine furrowed her brows and beamed. “Like we do every night, Jack?”
Staring into her inescapable blue eyes, I nodded.
“Yes, just like always, hon.”
Old Man Johnson smiled, but coughed to himself, and I found myself the only one not chuckling to themselves.
“Well old man, I suppose me and Elaine here will be off. You take care of yourself now. Come on Elaine, if we make it back, perhaps we’ll still be able to watch the rain fall from the window.” “Hmph!” Old Man Johnson scoffed, and I left from the store with Elaine in her grace.
Copyright
November 14, 2023
March 29, 2024
Cascadia Legends and Poetry 