dark pool of blood spread across the thick carpet. Ryan crab-walked away from the mess. His eyes wide with horror.
Todd moved his hands away from his wash-board abs. His stomach opened wide, a deluge of slimy organs and crimson gushed forward. Todd’s eyes searched the room for his killer.
Aiden looked down.
The knife remained in his hand. It was covered in Todd’s gore.
Everyone choked on tears and disbelief.
Except Zoe.
She clapped.
“I still need proof, Aiden. Killing Todd might have been a convenient accident.”
Aiden knew their high school sex club had gone far beyond the point of no return. Their innocence, if they had had any from the start, went up in smoke like all their futures. No more preparing for college. No more graduation parties or new cars from their rich parents.
For the first time in his life, Aiden looked forward to standing apart from his peers. He squeezed the knife and rushed forward.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This story was a lot of fun for me. I had a blast re-imagining the cast of my Gushers Series. While this tale is related to the theme of the trilogy, and the characters are the same, it in no way spoils the larger arc. I think Aleister Crowley would be proud.
Chuck Buda
Chuck Buda is a horror author and podcast host from New Jersey. He is best known for his love of pizza and Black Metal. Chuck grew up a fan of the Universal Monster movies and Leonard Nimoy’s In Search Of... Smitten with all things monstrous and unexplained, Chuck began a lifelong journey of searching for new scares and thrills. Chuck Buda co-hosts The Mando Method Podcast on Project Entertainment Network with author, Armand Rosamilia. They talk about all aspects of writing.
The Visit
Danny Campbell
Part the First: Hope
The visit was supposed to be a chance to re-align my life. I mean, after suffering Sandy for two years, I was shot; my nerves were like tearing wrapping paper. Then I saw the ad on FB for ‘the retreat’. Now, usually, I wouldn’t have gone for that kind of thing, you know, cymbal clanging and whatnot, but something made me click on it. Alright, it was the smiling girl with the perfect teeth and curly hair, that and the picture of equally perfect sea, sand and sky, and an obligatory coconut tree bent at just the right angle to lie on and do nothing, just like the girl was. Except for smiling.
I’d saved up enough and had some leave from welcoming bemused visitors at the Guildhall Museum, and I could really do with a break from staring at that shitty statue of Margaret Thatcher all day. Did you know some guy walked in one day with a cricket bat underneath his coat and took her head off with it? I really wish I could have done that. Stupid, isn’t it, vandalism? I like art, but I’m sick of all those statues of people who were mostly bastards, yet some knuckle heads seem to love. Anyway, she’s encased in bullet proof glass now, the old harridan, and I digress.
No, the visit to the retreat was going to change my life for the better. I’d heard a lot about spirituality, but I can’t say that I ever felt any. In school they used to drone on about it, and I know what Jesus did and everything, but it always seemed like such a lot of bollocks. Sandy didn’t help. She, along with a load of ‘do gooder’ mates, was in church every Sunday when the night before she’d been drugged up to her eyeballs with a cock in each hand when we were supposed to be going steady. Of course, I was the last to find out, and boy, enough is enough.
The plane ride to Thailand took twelve hours and Bangkok is a shit hole. Sure, I spent several nights there banging two girls at a time like all the blokes there do—you should really see how disgusting some of the really fat, old men are there, it made me ashamed and really sorry for the girls—at least I was young and not at all that ugly, just, well, gullible, I supposed I’d call it now.
Anyhow, I took the overnight bus to Surat Thani hung over and feeling rotten and ashamed. Unable to sleep because of the sniffling and sneezing, coughing old Thais, and the guy and girl doing some heavy-duty fingering in the seats just opposite, that took twelve hours, but eventually, I was there.
Baan NokKhun Tong was a revelation.