The Active Shooter, excerpt from Nightmare Worlds

The Active Shooter

© 2016 Paul DeThroe

Excerpt from Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

“What the hell was that?” a young lady and I asked in unison, confused about the firecracker sound that just rang out from the office area. Then another gunshot was heard, this one followed by horrid screams from the girls in the office. Several more shots rang out in short order. Then eerie silence replaced the harrowing screams. Everyone in the shop stood still and stared at the glass door which separated the shop from the office. No one dared speak a word.

I felt like an anvil had been placed in the center of my chest. My nerves were so racked, I couldn’t breathe, and I’m certain everyone else was affected in a similar manner. We had no idea what was happening, but we knew it was horrendous when a chorus of woeful moans began to cry out from the office area only to be silenced by two more gunshots.

When Ralph busted through that door, we were all in a state of shock. He was dressed from head to toe in black, which contrasted sharply with the cheap suits he normally wore to work. He looked like an aging SWAT team warrior, as most of his apparel was armored, or bullet proof. He held a gunmetal black .45 caliber pistol in one hand and a chrome Glock 9mm in the other. There were several clips of ammo clipped around his waist and a sub-machine gun hung menacingly around his shoulder. I remember his eyes being so filled with hatred that a sense of foreboding instantly filled the room. 

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God is a Clown? excerpt from Nightmare Worlds

God is a Clown?

© 2016 Paul DeThroe

Excerpt from Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

“God is a clown?” Mrs. Maple, the crabby, retired, former mayor and current Sunday school teacher, angrily stood over Damien and his superbly detailed clown, drawn over a crucified Jesus coloring page.

“Well, yea, that’s how I see it,” Damien responded fearlessly, not caring how deep a hole he was digging himself into.

“Well, I’ve never!” Mrs. Maple stormed off with the offensive picture in hand. Awkward silence filled the dank basement classroom, which was packed with pre-teen boys and girls. No one had been privy to see the piece of art that’d made Mrs. Maple angry, but they knew it had to be exceptionally vile, and that by drawing it, Damien was a now a terrible person. They all pointed fingers and stared at him. His instincts told him that he’d never be allowed to fit in with any of them again.

“Did you draw this?” Father Patricide’s cold grip tightened around the back collar of Damien’s shirt, while the doodle he’d drawn over the image on the Jesus was thrust just inches in front of his face. It was like all the air had been let out of the room. The fidgety kids sat silent and held their breath, awaiting Damien’s public condemnation from the meanest soul to ever wear a clerical collar, at least in their collective opinion.

“Yes father, it was I,” Damien’s faced flushed, as he admitted to the charges, under duress. He would’ve admitted it anyway; he was especially proud of the piece. Even if it caused the church hierarchy to perform an old school crack down on their newest dissident, to keep the rest of the kids in line. Damien was ready to make his personal revolution against the establishment. 

The old frail priest, who’d be lucky to hold his own in a playground fight with most kids Damien’s age, relied on the implied power of his position to wield authority. He violently yanked Damien out of his seat and thrashed him all around the room while yelling at him for being a heretic.

“Look what you’ve done, Damien! How dare you desecrate an image of the Lord? God is very forgiving, but not for those who mock him. Get out of my church, and don’t come back, unless your parents are willing to pay for a special priest from the Vatican to exorcise the demons out of your heathen ass.”

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One Last Magick Ride, excerpt from Nightmare Worlds

One Last Magick Ride

© 2016 Paul DeThroe

Excerpt from Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

The tension I felt told me that they thought I was about to blow the place up with one of their bombs, but I was undeterred by the chilly reception. I had important things to say, and I was going to say them, and they were going to listen.

“Leaders of this brave new world; listen!” I began my hypnotic diatribe. 

“You’ve gathered in this iconic building under the guise of being united, but never before have you ever been so divided!”

The shocked looks on the faces of the men and women ambassadors began to change, and they looked at each other oddly, not knowing how to react.

“I am from a different time and place,” I blurted out, not knowing how they would take that revelation. “I am a wizard from days gone by, from when magick was alive and filled the air. This is no longer the case. I arrived in this world, not knowing what to expect. I’ve found that intentions are grand, but actions have failed to live up to hype. This age seems to have reached a tipping point. The acquisition of energy seems to topple all agreements and vows of peace. Instead of working together to build a utopian society, cultural divides have splintered the world into peoples who merely cry out for peace, but those cries have been ignored by leaders who seek nothing but war, to gain ground in their petty desires to control natural resources. You should all be ashamed!”

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The Holy Man, excerpt from Nightmare Worlds

The Holy Man

© 2016 Paul DeThroe

Excerpt from Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

The little girl ran to her mother, who lifted her up in a huge bear hug, while everyone else in the small, but orderly mob, gasped, then started dancing and chanting in delight at the unbelievable phenomenon they’d just witnessed.

I have to admit, my heartstrings had been tugged as well. The saintly incident brought tears to my eyes, as my mind struggled to accept and understand what my eyes had witnessed. The miracle was simply too good to be true, causing suspicion and doubt to automatically arise, deep within my jaded psyche.

My cameraman finally made it through the crowd to where I stood. He’d totally missed the first miracle but saw the astonished look on my face and asked, “Was it that cool?”

“It was, Chris, it was,” I replied.

“What happened?”

“He healed a little girl’s mangled arm.”

“Was it real?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you think he will do another one?”

“I sure hope so.”

“You must know that the master doesn’t like modern technology,” the frail 

voice of a woman called out to us from just in front of the holy man.

“We are sorry,” I replied. “We mean no harm. The world needs to hear your master’s story. My name is Shawn Butterfield. I am a reporter. The story of this holy man is just too special. It needs to be properly told.”

“I agree, but master is against it. You are not the first to try.”

“What is your name, ma’am?”

“Maria, Maria Gonzalez,” she smiled.

“How long have you known the master?”

“My entire life.”

“What is your relationship with him?”

“Close, very close. I am his everything; his wife, his confidant, his disciple.”

“Well, then you are definitely the right person to talk to, Maria. Thank you. Would you mind answering a few of our questions on camera?”

“I would be glad to, as long as master doesn’t appear and doesn’t become distracted. Let’s walk over here, away from the crowd.”

“What is your master’s name?” I asked after motioning for Chris to get his camera rolling.

“His name is Jesús Gonzalez.”

“Isn’t it ironic that his name is spelled the same as Christianity’s God?”

“I don’t see the connection. Their names are spelled the same, in English, but are pronounced differently. And to be honest, the Jewish and Christian messiah’s name is actually Yeshua. Neither Yeshua nor Jesús is an English name.”

“Is Jesús the second coming of the messiah?”

“No, he doesn’t claim to be.”

“What does he claim to be?”

“Jesús is a healer.”

“What is his agenda? What are his intentions, his aspirations?”

“To heal.”

“What inspires him? Surely there must be some sort of inspiration. Is it political, religious, or perhaps monetary? Does he serve some secret agenda?”

“He is inspired to heal the sick and afflicted.”

“Nothing more?”

“Nothing more.”

“Come on, now, there has to be more?”

“I am sorry to disappoint, but my master has no hidden agenda. He was sent to this Earth only to heal. That is all. He has no political or religious aspirations or objectives. He is pure of heart, soul, and spirit.”

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Doorway to Doom, excerpt from Nightmare Worlds

Doorway to Doom

© 2016 Paul DeThroe

Excerpt from Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

There was simply too much on the line to just let anyone go through the portal. Whenever I traveled through it, I’d make sure that I was only an observer. I didn’t want to get involved with something that could create a domino effect which could make the world worse than it already was.

Take the Hitler scenario, for instance. Of course, one of the first things I thought of was that I could go kill Hitler and prevent World War Two and the Holocaust from ever happening. But that idea was stunted by thoughts of someone perhaps even worse taking his place. Even if I sacrificed my life for the cause, and even if I could manage to kill Hitler, that doesn’t mean that I could kill all the Nazi’s. Going through the portal didn’t make me a super man. I was still just an average human being.

Besides not wanting to interfere with or leave a thumbprint on human history, all was fair game. It was like living in a history book, except it was the real thing, and not just some one-sided tale told from the perspective of the victor of a war.

Of course, it wasn’t all fun and games. I ran into more than my share of sticky situations and close calls. It became apparent right away that my way of dress was too futuristic and strange for folks in the past. If I could’ve guessed what era the portal would open too, I could’ve dressed for the occasion, but it was always a crapshoot.

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The Blessed or the Damned, excerpt from Nightmare Worlds

The Blessed or the Damned

© 2016 Paul DeThroe

Excerpt from Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

Taken in by her beauty, I reached out to gently touch her face but she disappeared. Shattered by the rebuff, my soul withdrew and slammed back into my body. At that very moment, I realized that she didn’t disappear because of anything I had done, but because she sensed a visitor coming.

My wife walked in with doctor and nurse in tow. “I think my husband has suffered enough,” she said. “He’s been like this for two long days. I hate to do this but we must remove the life support and let his soul go to Heaven.”

I’d heard my wife lie before and I could tell from her voice’s inflection that she was staging for these medical professionals. She wanted me dead so that she could collect the insurance money and live happily ever after. How could I blame her? I was the one that worked seven days a week to provide for her while ignoring her physical and emotional needs. I suppose that was why she started having an affair in the first place. How could I expect her to ever want to take care of me now that I was a worthless vegetable?

Not surprisingly, the doctor didn’t offer much in defense of my life; because he didn’t want the bill to exceed what my insurance would pay. It would be so much easier for everyone to just let me expire. Hearing my wife act like she cared so much, when the truth of the matter was, she couldn’t wait for me to expire, caused me unbearable pain, but when she started flirting with the doctor who would ultimately kill me, I couldn’t take it anymore. I opened my eyes, which was the only part of my body that actually worked and started blinking wildly.

“Doctor Philachek,” whispered the young nurse who’d accompanied the distracted physician, “You must look at this. He’s blinking!”

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Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

21 June 2016

Paul DeThroe’s Nightmare Worlds, Collection of Weird & Frightening Tales

What are your fears? What keeps you awake at night? Some things that cause me anxiety and insomnia are tales of people driven to insanity by deceit, greed, jealousy, injustice, malevolence, and treachery.

Drawing from these topics, among others, I present six nightmarish yarns for those of us who see some degree of wisdom in keeping their fears fed with dark fiction. Because, as we all know, fears left unattended tend to climb in bed with us at night to attack our unguarded dreams. Or they manifest themselves, in those who are weaker minded, as demons and monsters, who inspire dastardly deeds that inevitably end up in news headlines as the most heinous of crimes.

The Holy Man: A grizzled, uncaring, war reporter discovers a miraculous healer, and must decide whether to exploit him for purposes of career advancement, or leave him be.

The Blessed or the Damned: A jilted man is shot by his wife’s lover. Caught somewhere between life and death, he’s told at the Pearly Gates that he is either one sin or one good deed away from eternity or damnation.

Doorway to Doom: A man buys a house with a time portal, leaving him with the unenviable decision of entering it, selling it or sealing it forever.

God is a Clown?: A clown with a god complex plans to corrupt the world’s youth with a demented syndicated television program.

One Last Magick Ride: A dark age’s wizard is released from his frozen exile by global warming. The world he discovers leaves him in despair. With his magic fading, does he save humanity as his last act or does he leave us to our own self-inflicted doom?

The Active Shooter: A forlorn tale about a man who survives a mass workplace shooting, perpetrated by his long time boss. He has a message/warning to share that will chill you to the bone.