Apple Picking with a Twist

Fall has finally arrived. The trees are turning beautiful colors. Oranges, yellows and reds taking over for the green landscapes. The sky even seems to glow brighter. Then there is a refreshing, crisp air taking away the heat of summer. Time to bring out the hoodies and light jackets. Turn off the A/c and let nature cool down the house for you with the windows open. The leaves crunch under your feet as you stroll along the sidewalk. Children raking the leaves together, getting the piles big enough to jump in. It’s such a wonderful season. 

It’s also time for pumpkin farms and apple orchards. Pumpkin seeds, pumpkin pies, and Apple pies. Eating while wrapped up in a cozy blanket by a roasting fire. A nice cup of hot chocolate warming up your hands. I love being able to go out and pick apples and pumpkins. Orchards are my favorite place to go on a cool fall day. After a long stressful day of work, being able to go out and pick some delicious apples. Amazingly juicy when you bite into them. 

This weekend I’m taking a friend with me to go apple picking for the first time of the season. We have plans to make apple pies for a gathering we will be having. She has never been apple picking before, so I’m planning a fun trip for her. We will go early in the morning to find all the best apples before anybody else gets there. I know she’s not much of an early bird, but for this she is okay with it. I go shopping the day before to make sure we have all the supplies we need to make the pies. I want to start right away. 

I jump in my old pickup at the crack of dawn and head out to pick up my friend. She has a cup of coffee in her hand, and she’s bundled up. She hops in my truck with a yawn. I can’t help but laugh at her. I’m wide awake and ready for the day. The drive to the orchard isn’t far, but it’s long enough for my friend to take a nap. It took me a minute to realize she was asleep after I had been talking for a few minutes. I shake my head and let her sleep. I pull into the drive of the orchard and park. I gently try to wake her up. It’s harder than I thought. I end up shouting her name, and she wakes up with a jerk. I’m glad she wasn’t holding her coffee cup, it would have been everywhere. 

The owner of the orchard comes out from the barn and waves to me. She is also a friend of mine. We’ve known each other for a while now. I met her through my mother when I first started apple picking with her years ago. She doesn’t open to the public until later, but she always lets me come when I want. I grab the baskets out of the back of my truck and pull my wagon out. The baskets go in the wagon, and we head out to the orchard, my friend slowly walking behind me. The wagon bounces over the uneven ground. Once I weigh it down with apples, it won’t bounce as much. 

We continue to the back of the orchard, a part few people walk out too, my friend complaining the whole way. She doesn’t mean it, but it doesn’t stop her. Like I said, she’s not a morning person. I can’t help but laugh, unfortunately she doesn’t find it funny. Then when I tell her to loosen up, she chucks an apple at me. This makes me laugh even harder. We start a food fight with the apples. Not the good ones, ones that have already fallen to the ground. We both run to hide behind the trees as cover apples splattering against the trunks. I still get some juices on me, seeing as the trunks of the apple trees aren’t very thick. 

Then my friend screams. A horrible, gut wrenching scream. I race over to her, not caring if I step on some rotting apples. She has a hand over her mouth and tears welling up in her eyes. I come up next to her, asking her what’s wrong. She is panting hard and she stutters; she points instead. I follow her finger and what I see makes me want to vomit. Resting up against an apple tree is a decaying body. Its face looks like animals have been picking at it, along with other parts of its body. The clothes are ragged and ripped; the weather has done lots of damage. It looks like it’s been out here for a while. The smell soon hits me and I have to turn away. 

I try to pull my friend away from the sight; I need to call the authorities. I have never seen such a thing out here. I look around, my eyes avoiding the dead and something else catches my eye and this time I vomit. My friend tries to help me, she’s shaking trying to hold my hair back. There’s another one, its face is unrecognizable and there is barely any flesh on the body. It has to have been out here longer. Animals and the weather have not been kind. How many bodies are out here? Does the owner know? I have too many questions. I wipe my mouth with the back of my shirt, I couldn’t care less right now. We leave the wagon behind as we run back to the beginning of the orchard. I have never run to fast in my life. 

I pull my phone out and try to dial the police. Unfortunately, I don’t have service out here. No one ever does, it’s like a dead zone out here. Apparently a literal one, too. We get back out where the truck is and I head towards the barn I know there is a landline in there. I’ll be able to call from there. I see the owner walking towards us. She looks concerned, and she asks us if we’ve seen a ghost. We are beyond pale and sweat is dripping down our foreheads. I try to tell her what we’ve just found, but most of it comes out a jumbled mess. She contorts into anger and she mumbles something to herself. I look at her, confused. I tell her we need to call the police. I head into the barn to do just that, but I never make it there. I should have never turned my back.

I wake up with a headache, and my arms and legs tied. My friend that came with me is next to me, also bound. Apples are stuck in our mouths with tape over it. I feel like I’m choking, it’s hard to breathe. My friend isn’t moving. I can’t tell if she’s dead or not. I’m hoping she’s not. I look around me and see I’m in a stall and I’m covered in hay. I try to get out of the ropes, but it’s no use. It’s tied tightly around my wrists it digs in more while I struggle. Suddenly the stall door opens and standing there is the woman who I thought was my friend. She’s smiling at me. It only scares me more. I don’t know what she is going to do to me. I don’t want to find out. Unfortunately for us, I doubt anyone will notice us missing right away. The party isn’t until tomorrow night and they know that my friend is with me, so we should be fine right. Though when they do figure out we are missing, who knows if I’ll be dead or not by then. 

We were just supposed to go pick some ripe, juicy apples for pies. We were going to make them together. I was excited to show my best friend my recipes, but now I’m going to get her killed. If she’s not already dead. She still isn’t moving, and I can’t tell if she’s breathing. Tears silently glide down my cheeks and I squeeze my eyes shut. The owner stands there laughing at me. It’s an evil, nasty laugh. One I’ll ever be able to get out of my head. It makes me feel worse about this situation. I never thought this would happen to me, but it is and I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing I can do. I’m going to die. I already know it, and I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

But I Saw It

I’m driving home from the bar in my F250. It’s about 20 minutes from my old farmhouse. The LED’s shine brightly from my truck. Lighting up the empty roads in front of me. The moon is full tonight, adding to the brightened up area around me. It’s light enough to see the deer out in the fields. They are eating the corn that has begun to grow. If only it were hunting season. I see a nice buck out there. One I’d like to see on my wall. Right next to the others. I’m not sure the girlfriend would like that, but she also doesn’t live there. Only visits on the weekends. 

I got the radio down low, humming along as I drive. I’m about five minutes from my farm, when something shines in my lights up ahead. My food presses lightly down on the brake. Right now it looks like a black blob, but the closer I get it looks like a car underside. I think I’m coming up on an accident. I slow to a stop in front of the car. Glass and shrapnel covered the ground. As it sits on its side, you can see that the car rolled. It is crunched in at least an inch on each side. A tire is missing on the driver’s side right. The undercarriage looks torn apart. Parts of the exhaust are ripped away, wires and plastics dangle towards the ground. I put my truck in park. As I open the door, a hand reaches out the top. I catch my breath in my throat. 

The hand pats the side of the car. Then another one shoots out and they both try to grip. The car shakes as the person insides tries to heave themselves out. A dark-haired female emerges from the wreck. Blood running down the side of her pale face. Her eyes squint against my headlights. I wish i could dim them for her. I jump out and go to try to help her, but before I can get to her, her head is yanked back and she screams. A figure climbs up on the side of the car, using her hair like a rope. She holds on with one hand and the other, trying to get the intruder off of her. I’m frozen where I stand. I don’t know what to do. I need to call the police. 

I run back to my truck to get my phone. Then I hear her scream again. It’s a blood-curdling scream. I trip over my feet trying to get back to her. But I’m too late. Her blood is streaming down the underside of the car and her hands are laying on the ground, blood pooling from them. I choke back my vomit and try to bring my attention back to her. Just in time to see the figure, with a black hood over its head, take a small axe and slam it down into her skull. He does this over and over until she stops screaming. Blood splattered everywhere. I could feel flecks hit my face. I know I would have to bleach this white shirt I’m wearing. I couldn’t stop staring at the shattered mess that was once a young woman, laying in a heap on top of the crushed vehicle. 

I look to the person, the murderer, and my heart stops. They’re staring at me. Their eyes are glowing a dark green. I don’t know if it’s from the truck lights or they’re alien. Either way, they slide down the car and their boots hit the cement road with a thump. I have no way to fight them. Their footsteps leave bloody steps behind them. I back up, but am stopped by the door of my truck. I’m too afraid to turn my back to them. They could throw the axe into my back. So, I decide to slide against my door until I can back up again. He keeps moving closer. One step at a time. I clear the door in moments. I’ve never jumped into my truck so fast. I’m thankful I left it running. I put it into reverse and I peel out of there. I find away to turn back around and I drive back the way I came. With better judgment, I look back over my shoulder. The bloody scene is still there, but the hooded person is not. At this moment, I don’t care. I drive. My foot to the floor. I don’t give a damn if I’m speeding. I need to get out of here and find a cop. 

I drive all the way back into town. I barely slow down for the stops signs. I can see the police station not to far. I screech the truck to a stop out front. I slam the truck in park and jump out. I take the steps two at a time to the entrance. I almost break the glass doors as I open them. The cop on duty jumps in surprise at his desk. His magazine falls to the floor and his eyes go wide. My strides are wide and I’m at the desk in no time. 

“There’s been an accident and a murder on Meadow Rd. I drove up on the accident, then I witnessed a murder. It was horrible, bloody, and she’s dead. You got to go check it out. The person who did it is still out there.” I rattle off. 

“Whoa Whoa, calm down. You saw someone get murdered? On Meadow Rd?” The officer stood and asked. 

“Yes. You have to go now!” I shout. 

“Let me see whose patrolling right now. I’ll have them go look.”

“Hurry. The guy is still out there. Near my house. I won’t go home until he’s caught.” I pant, my breathing erratic. 

The officer nods to me and goes on the walkie. He speaks quickly and clearly. There is another officer that is about ten minutes from the location and says he will go check it out. I pace. I bite my nails. I’m freaking out. I pause for a moment and look down to the floor. Not without taking notice of the blood on my shirt. Gosh, I wish I could go change. I wish I could go home. My adrenaline is through the roof. My heart feels like it’s going to break out of my chest. It physically hurts as it pounds against my ribs. Then static rings from the officer’s desk and I freeze, trying to listen in. 

“Nothing are you sure. I got a guy here covered in blood splatter and there is no wreck or body.” The officer tries to be subtle, but I hear him loud and clear. 

Everything seems to blur and next thing I know I’m staring the officer in the face and I can feel the heat coming from my face. I’m sure I’m red as a tomato. 

“What do you mean there’s nothing!” I want to scream, but I just raise my voice up a notch. 

“He found nothing. Not even a piece of glass. Not even blood.” He tells me. 

I want to scream. I want to throw something. This can’t be happening. How did the murderer clean it up? How could everything just disappear? I grip my hair and almost yank it out. I walk away before I do some damage. I know what I saw. I watched a girl get hit over and over with an axe. 

“Sir, how much have you had to drink tonight?” 

“What? You think I’m drunk. I had like two drink about over two hours ago. If I was drunk, I’m sober now. Watching someone die can do that to ya.” I slam my hands on the desk and the officer jumps again. Boy, is he skittish. 

“I have to give you a breathalyzer.” He pulls out a small device and brings it up to my face. 

“No! I’m not drunk. I know what I saw!” 

“Sir, I need you to calm down.” I watch him reach to his side. He thinks I’m nuts. 

“How can I stay calm when there is a murderer out there and a dead girl missing?” 

“There was no accident or body on Meadow Rd.” His voice raises this time. 

“Yes, there is. He must not have driven down far enough. Tell him to go north and if he passes 1678 Meadow Rd. He’s gone to far. But he will see it before then.”

“He’s already up towards the highway.” The officer sighs. 

“Maybe he’s on the wrong road.” I question, shaking in my boots. 

“He’s not. Now sit down.”

“Take my shirt and test it for DNA. You’ll be able to find her that way.”

“How do I know it’s not your blood?” 

“It’s not my blood. Do you see a cut on me? It was a dark-haired female, pale face. I think her eyes were blue. She was scared out of her mind and someone just came up behind her and slaughtered her to death.”

“I think you need to see someone again.”

I back away from him. I’m not going back. I’m not crazy. I’m better now. I know what I saw. I have been good for five years now. I can’t go back. I will not let this officer send me back. I know what I saw. My hands go back to the top of my head and I did my fingers into my skull. I saw a man with glowing eyes kill an innocent woman. 

“Alex, have you been keeping up with the medication?” The officer asks me. 

“How do you know my name?” My eyes go wide, staring at him. 

“It’s me, Alex. You now me. We have been friends for years. Your seeing things again, aren’t you?” He sets a hand on my shoulder. Staring back at me. 

And his eyes are glowing a dark green. 

Looking For a Christmas Gift for a Thriller Lover

Try sending them one of my books for Christmas. The Emerald Reaper and The Reapers Seeker are great fresh stories I have published with that psychological horror any thriller lover will like. You got a girl in the first book who is running away from her strict parents, murdering across the world, and she doesn’t remember half of the killings. While in the next book of the series, you got a private detective trying to figure out why she is always one step ahead. It’s a mind boggler you will not want to miss.

The Emerald Reaper
The Reapers Seeker

And if you’re into short stories. Try out my book Defenseless against the end. 5 different stories, from love to war. There is destruction in everyone’s path and they need to find their salvation.

Defenseless Against the End

When you finish those, look out for the next book in the Reaper Trilogy. It will be one to put you on your toes. It is not complete yet, but I’m hoping to have it out for you next year some time.

Happy Thanksgiving

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

First off…Happy Thanksgiving.

Now this is supposed to be a happy day. A day to celebrate and be thankful for family and friends. A day to be happy and joyful. Why does this day feel so dismal and miserable? I don’t want to be a downer on what is supposed to be a happy day, but I can’t help it. It’s been just over a year after loosing my mom and it’s hard to find a reason to chipper these days. Holidays just aren’t the same without her. She was the reason I went to family gatherings. She made me feel safe and whole. Now there is a giant hole in my heart. One that Turkey and pies just can’t fill. I don’t even like pies. I was never that into Thanksgiving in the first place. It wasn’t a huge tradition for my family. More so when I was younger. Then again, when I got back from the Marine Corps. Now it’s just like any other day.

I was hoping to write a longer post, but I don’t have it in me today. I’m honestly upset and I don’t know how to handle it. I thought writing about it would help me, but it doesn’t make me feel anything. I’m only an empty shell today.

Please don’t let my sadness get you down today. Have a good day with your family and friends. Don’t forget to social distance and stay safe.

Written Out

“I want people to dance, to laugh, enjoy the life I’ve lived.” 

“You just told me the other day you don’t enjoy your life.” My friend and lawyer, Jake Smock, says, dropping his pen. 

“That’s true, but they need not know that.” I grin. 

“We are trying to write your will. We have the opening sentence and those paying for funeral and other expenses. Who you leaving your money and personal property too?”

“You in a rush?”

“I have other appointments.”

“Not until like noon. It’s only ten.”

“You checked my schedule?” He looked at me dumbfounded. Like its something I’ve never done before.

I roll my eyes, then look across the room. My mind wonders to his question. Who do I want to leave everything too? Sure I have my wife and kids I could entrust it too. That’s what they would expect. They are all waiting to get what I’ve worked for after I die. My wife never liked that I didn’t put her name on the title of the house. Dying would be the perfect opportunity for her to get my assets. That would mean I’d have to put her in the will. If I put my kids in the will and I die before the oldest turns eighteen, she would still get the house until they are old enough. Guess I’ll have to leave them all out. 

“How old is my goddaughter?” I ask with a sly smile. 

Jake looks at me in disbelief. He knows how bad my home life has gotten. I don’t understand it myself. Why do I stay with my rotten family? I guess I still love them. My wife isn’t cheating on me, that I know of. My children can be angels, but only when they want something. I always show up to games and school plays. I take my wife out on dates. I love them, but why do I feel as if they are using me? Do they love me back? I try and try to keep it together. I get kisses, I get ‘I love you’s’, but none of it seems real. They still backtalk me. They still argue with me. I can’t say no without a fight. 

——————–

“How was the meeting with Jake today?” My wife, Laura, asks as I walk through the door. 

“Fine. Got my will all straighten out.” 

“I still don’t understand why we didn’t do one together.” She says as she continues to make lunch. Chopping up tomatoes and lettuce. 

“We’ve talked about this.”

“I know, it just makes me feel like we aren’t really married. We are just two people who live together and have children together.” She shrugs her shoulders as she speaks. Trying to keep it nonchalant. 

The conversation we have, has happened before. I know we are married and married couples should do everything together. Though, I don’t want some important things done together. Like the will. We don’t even have a joint bank account. I’m the one paying all the bills, anyway. I’m the one with a good job. A superb job, actually. I make more than enough money. Laura stays at home all day. She has her hobbies that keep her busy. We have a grand house, nice cars. The kids go to well renowned schools. They all live an outstanding life. 

About two hours later, I’m finishing up some work in the office and I hear the front door open. This signals me that the kids are home. I close my programs and shut down the computer. I hear their feet run across the floor into the kitchen. Their mother gives a big greeting and I’m sure she’s giving them all hugs. I walk out of my office and go join them in the kitchen. The only one out of my four that come up to me, is the youngest. Marie, my precious little girl. 

“Daddy guess what I did today?” Her bright baby blues beam up at me. 

I get on one knee to get closer to her height, “What did you make?”

I see out of the corner of my eye, I notice my other children keep talking to their mother. I haven’t been close with my other kids in a while. They have all seem to have grown apart from me. No matter how hard I try, we don’t seem to get along anymore. I assume it’s because they want to be more independent. Yet, they talk to their mother about anything. I’m the piggy bank they come to when they want something. It isn’t something I enjoy; I try to do more with them, but they turn me down. I’m not sure what I did to sway them against me. At least they’ll miss me when I’m dead. 

There is a knock on the door. Laura, dressed in black, answers it. Standing on the other side is Jack, holding a briefcase. She assumes it’s filled with her husband’s will and testimony. Something she and the kids have been looking forward too. Her husband had been sick for a while. With that and the family growing distant from him, it brought on a deep depression. A secret he kept with him as the sickness took him under. Not that his family seemed to care. Laura was more worried about how they were gonna keep living, at least until after the money ran out. Which it will be awhile, though, she thought. As Jack walked in behind him came his daughter. 

“What is Kathryn here?” Laura snapped.

“Everyone in the last will and testament has to be here.” Jack said calmly.

Laura pulls him to the side.

“She’s in the will?”

“Yes, she is.” He said sternly. 

Everyone gathered in the living room. The wife taking a seat in her husbands old chair. Her glare sent to the girl that’s not hers. Jack sets the briefcase down on the coffee table and opens it. He grabs the stack of papers and gets ready to read. Everybody is at the edge of their seats. Jack starts reading the beginning of the will. 

“I hereby nominate, constitute and appoint Jack Smock as Executor or if this Executor is unable or unwilling to serve then I appoint Laura Gold as alternate Executor.”

“Excuse me. Please tell me your reading the wrong will. He did not name you primary.” Laura exclaimed standing up abruptly. 

“He did and I accept. Now sit down so I can continue.” Jack says through gritted teeth. 

“….the following property for up to a year until they may find a new place to live: Laura Gold, Wife, 187 West Woodrift road. Mason, NV. Then following that year they will bequeath the home to Kathryn Smock.” Jack points a finger at Laura, noticing her starting to stand up, her mouth open ready to argue.

Jack finishes the will. Everything, including the money, goes to his goddaughter. Laura and the kids get nothing. 

“This is an abomination! I am his wife! I only get a year to find a new place. I don’t get any of the money. I get nothing. I married that troll knowing he was going to die and I would get his money and I get none of it. He has no right to do this to me. I will take you to court. She is not even his blood.”

“You can’t go to court about a will that was signed by him and I am his lawyer. You wouldn’t win. You have a year to get your stuff together and get out. He knew all about your thoughts on him. He knew you never loved him. He knew everything. Especially that only one of those kids of yours are his and Marie is the only one who has a separate account for her when she turns 18. As I read in the will.” 

Jack stands to leave. His daughter has a bright smile on her face. While the family that is now fatherless, remains in anger and dismay. 

This is a short story I wrote on Reedsy. I felt like sharing it. If you want to read more, please check out my Reedsy page. I will probably add some more in the future.

My Reedsy Page

Happy Birthday Marine Corps!!

Today marks 245 years of the Marine Corps. To all you Marines out there…Happy Birthday!!!

I was in the Marines from 2011- 2015. The best four years of my life. Yeah it had its up and downs but I enjoyed every minute of it. I was a motor transportation operator. I drove 7-tons, LVSR, hmmwvs. My favorite was the 16 870. It was an LVSR 5th wheel with a flat bed trailer. Just like a semi truck and trailer. Just like my dad drives. I literally drove trucks that could run over cars. When I drove off base, people would move over without hesitation. It gave me a high feeling. I was on top of the world.

Now 5 years later, I still celebrate with the rest of my brothers and sisters. I go out or stay home and have a few. I remember nights of drinking way to much. Friends driving me home. Partying in my Blues. It was always a good time. And I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

Vocal & Reedsy

Check out my Vocal page. I don’t write much on there. I’m trying to. I’m not always sure what to put. You might need an account if you want to read my content. So, if you already have one, that’s a plus. Check it out. Tell me what you think.

I write poems on there and I have a few short stories. Even one I wrote about my mom.

Vocal page

I also have a Reedsy. I’m hoping one day to win one of the contest. If you don’t know what Reedsy is, it’s a prompt page that gives you 5 different prompts each week and you can win $50 from it. It just a fun page I do. It’s all short stories. I have multiple stories on there. Ranging in genres.

Reedsy page

My goals

People always talk about their goals in life. What they want to be when they grow up. How they want to make people proud. Some have a huge list, while others have a small one. What’s on that list is another story.

I have goals. Not many. My main goal from when I was in high school was already achieved. I wanted to be a Marine and I became one right after I graduated. I drove for the Marine Corps. I wanted to be a mechanic, but I ended up becoming an operator instead. Honestly, it was better. I got to be like my dad, who is an over the road truck driver. He’s been to every state except for Alaska and Hawaii. It was fun. I enjoyed every minute of it. I’d go back and do it again if I could. It’s a chance of a lifetime. No many get to do what I did and I take pride in that. My parents are so proud of me. Some didn’t think I would make it. There wad a point I didn’t think i would either, but I did. I did something only one percent of the nation will go do. As long as my parents were happy for me, that’s all that mattered to me. I accomplished something I worked hard for. It took me two years to get into shape and it was worth it.

My goals now are much simpler. I have a soon to be 7 year old at home and I want to raise her right. I want to watch her grow and follow her dreams. She is the light of my life. I also want to become a successful Author. I have already published three books. After the Marines, I never thought I would be that proud of myself again. Well I thought wrong. After publishing my first book, I was over the moon and I have my mom to thank for it. She pushed me to do it. She pushed me to write and she would edit my books for me. Well the first two anyway. She past away about a year ago and didn’t get to read the third one. It was devastating the publish it without her. But I did it and I know she wants me to continue to write. So that’s what I’ll do.

What are you goals? When you look to the future, where do you see yourself?

The Reapers Seeker

Book two the Reapers Seeker

I had to do so much research for this book. I loved every minute of it. This is the first book I published with an an actual publisher. It was an interesting experience. I do plan to have the third book to the trilogy go through a publisher as well.

Now this book is all about the private investigator who is hired by the girls parents from the first book. Its all about how he struggles to find her. As things start happening and her getting harder to track, he begins to lose himself. He finds out things that she probably doesn’t know herself and he just wants to get her back before more people get hurt.

Click here to purchase

The Emerald Reaper

Book Cover to The Emerald Reaper

I am so proud of how this novel turned out. I do wish I could have wrote it a little longer, but its done now and I still love it.

This one is about a young girl who runs away from her strict, rich parents after she turns 18. She then starts to travel the world alone…or not. She hears a voice in her head that tells her what to do and when to do it. Something she’s heard all her life but never told anyone. Thought it was normal and she was a little afraid of her parents. This voice, when threatened, does terrible things.

It has lots of gory details I’m sure some of you will like. It plays with your mind and keeps you want to read more.

Click here to Purchase