Date: 2023-06-02 07:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Horror
Description: THE END OF THE ROAD Mia Simms has nowhere else to turn. Her son is fresh out of juvie and falling back into his old ways. Without a purpose or father figure, she is certain Kyle’s penchant for violence will only escalate unless something drastic happens. Mia knows little about the methods used at the grimly titled "Cemetery Camp." But is aware their radical practices have resulted in miraculous turnarounds for even the most troubled teenagers. Could Kyle be another success story? Or will he become the exception that gets buried on the cold graveyard grounds? This volume contains 5 interior ill

CEMETERY CAMP

MORBID CURIOSITIES

Book 3

Aron Beauregard

Contents

Quote

CEMETERY CAMP

A GRAVE MEETING

THE BOX

ALONE IN THE DARK?

FALL FROM DISGRACE

TUNNEL OF TERROR

SCHOOLHOUSE SHAM

CRASH AND BURN

END OF THE LINE

PLAYING GOD

NIGHT AND DAY

Epilogue

Afterword

Morbid Curiosities Book 1

Morbid Curiosities Book 2

AB Horror Exclusives

The Obituaries

Acknowledgments

About the Author

One last weird thing…

???

Copyright © 2023 Aron Beauregard

All rights reserved.

Cover Art by Luke Spooner

Interior Art by Anton Rosovsky

Edited by Kristopher Triana

Printed in the USA

WARNING:

This book contains scenes and subject matter that are disgusting and disturbing; easily offended people are not the intended audience.

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For Rod Serling.

You entertained many, but also taught us countless lessons. In addition, you showed us all that perception shouldn’t always be through a single shared lens.

“Being like everybody is the same as being nobody.”

- Rod Serling

CEMETERY CAMP

The blackness of the overgrown vegetation surrounding the road left Mia unsettled. She’d had a profound sense of isolation since they’d started on the path less traveled. There was no telling what lay beyond the flimsy shell of her vehicle. Furthermore, there was a part of her that still wondered if she was doing the right thing.

She looked to the passenger seat at her son, Kyle. Just the sight of him generated a gnawing sensation in her guts. The stress he generated in her had taken her to a place she’d never been before.

Not only did Mia find herself randomly breaking down into tears, but there was an even darker side—one that had changed her into something she’d never imagined. The private fits of rage frightened her. She’d never lost control of her body or felt so possessed. She’d never broken anything in her life. But now, every time Kyle screwed up, she couldn’t be sure how it would affect her.

Kyle’s constant defiance was only getting worse. He lacked respect for even the most basic principles of human morality. The result had set free a wicked frustration inside Mia—one that was turning her. She didn’t want it to come to this, but she was out of options.

Whether what came next was the right or wrong choice didn’t matter. In Mia’s tired mind, it was the only choice.

Her son’s saturnine state was only further accented by the blackened ring around his eye. It served as a constant reminder that he still hadn’t learned his lesson yet. Three harsh years in juvenile detention seemed like a waste to Mia. It had only served to amplify her son’s downward spiral.

“This is the stupidest fuckin’ idea you’ve had yet!” Kyle yelled. “I’m too old for camp! I don’t wanna go to some dumbass place in the middle of nowhere!”

Mia’s eyes were overrun with defeat. The absence of the slightest hint of shock showed just how accustomed she’d grown to Kyle’s verbal lashings. It’d been just a short time since the last one, but Kyle’s razor-tipped tongue always reopened his mother’s wounds. Deep, disgusting wounds Mia had spent countless hours helplessly trying to forget about. With so much disrespect being dished out on a daily basis, there wasn’t a means for her to heal.

Still, as of that evening, it was all in the past. It was time for a change. Mia had no way of knowing what to expect until it was over. She always planned for the worst—since that was usually exactly what she got—but this time, there was a different feeling in the air.

Kyle slammed his fingernail into the digital readout on the dashboard. The clock read 11:48 pm, the time only further fueling his rant. “What kind of fuckin’ summer camp takes the kids in at midnight? How shitty of a mother are you? You never gave a damn about me! Couldn’t even hire a decent defense to keep me out of juvie. And now, after all, I’ve been through, now this?” Kyle shook his head, disgust curling his lip as he stared a hole through his mother. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Mia focused on the road, digesting his cruelty and criticism while keeping her anger in check. The GPS said they were only a few minutes away now. She’d already dealt with him for sixteen years, a few more minutes wasn’t going to make a difference.

“You’re the worst,” Kyle groaned, slapping his palms on his thighs. “The worst ever. First you made Dad leave, then ruined my fuckin’ life.” Kyle folded his arms and looked out into the eerie forest.

Mia carefully loosened her tongue. She only thought it fair to offer him a few final words of advice. “I know things haven’t been perfect… that I haven’t been perfect… but I did my best. I gave you more than most kids—emotionally and financially. At some point you’re going to realize that. And at some point, you’re going to look in the mirror and realize the choices you made that got you here were your own.”

Kyle sighed with agitation. “Right, it was all my fault. It’s always my fault.”

“I didn’t say that. But putting that boy in the hospital? That was a choice. Selling drugs is a choice. Going right back to your old ways just after you got released—that was a choice. And none of them were smart choices. I mean, was it really worth risking another two years of your life because you didn’t like the way someone looked at you?”

Kyle squawked at the idea that he could hold even the slightest measure of responsibility. He immediately brushed off her logic. “Juvie is a cake-walk. If I had to, I could do two years in my sleep.”

Mia sighed. “With that attitude, you will. Do you want to spend your entire life in a cage?”

Kyle took time to actually ponder the question. “Maybe that’s what I’m supposed to do. Maybe that’s just who I am.”

“Bullshit, you can do whatever you please, but if you want to have a chance, you need to change now. You’re at a pivotal moment in your life, Kyle. Everything hinges on your next move.”

“Who cares? I have no future.”

“But what about when you become an adult? Prison’s a lot different than where you were. Trust me, your father spent enough time there. He had some horror stories.”

“Yeah, maybe if he stuck around to tell ’em, I wouldn’t be such a fuck-up.”

“You’re not a fuck-up—”

“Then why’re you dumpin’ me off somewhere in the middle of nowhere like one?!”

A glimmer of guilt flashed in Mia’s eyes.

The rage replenished in Kyle.

“I’m not dumping you off,” Mia explained. “I’m getting you the help you need. The people at this camp are going to help you. They specialize in remolding troubled youths. You’re just barely hanging on by a thread. They’re the best chance you have at living a normal life.”

“This better not be some scared straight bullshit.” Kyle loudly cracked his knuckles. “Anyone gets in my face and I’ll break their fuckin’ nose. I’m tellin’ you, I’m not messin’ around.”

“Just try to relax and listen for once. Give it a chance. Give yourself a chance.”

The path had been foggy for miles, but as they drew closer, the claustrophobia only intensified. Their headlights cut through the thick haze and revealed a structure previously hidden under the cover of darkness. Just a short distance ahead, a tall iron gate with ebony spikes came into their sights.

When the car slowed to a halt, Mia spotted a speaker box with a glowing red button. It was mounted upon a pillar of stone standing beside the car window.

“What the hell is this place?” Kyle asked, this time a bit more shaken.

Mia ignored his question and rolled down her window. She extended her arm and press the button.

The speaker crackled with a woman’s voice. “Name?”

“Mia Simms. I’m here to drop off my son Kyle.”

“Nice to hear from you again, Ms. Simms. I’m going to unlock the gate for Kyle. We’ll contact you again soon. Rest assured your son will be looked after. And do have a good evening.”

Kyle watched grimly as the digital sizzle of the old speaker died out and the black metal gate screeched along the track. The path it revealed was littered with thick streaks of gray fog, offering a haunting atmosphere that was anything but welcoming.

“You’re not comin’ in with me?” Kyle asked, the concern now conquering his tone. He tapped his foot nervously.

“Afraid not,” Mia replied, extending her hand. “Now, give me your phone.”

“Yeah, right! You think I’m goin’ into some weird-ass place without a way to—”

“Quiet! I paid for that goddamn phone! Now give it to me, or I’ll deactivate the line. Then, after you’re done at camp, you can get a job and pay for one yourself. I’m not screwing around, Kyle.”

He huffed with frustration as he shoved his hand into his pocket, yanked out the phone, and shoved it into his mother’s palm. “This isn’t fair!”

“Yeah? Well, nothing you’ve done has been fair to me, has it?”

Kyle stared forward with his teeth clasped together.

“Has it?” Mia persisted.

Her son reluctantly shook his head.

Mia rolled up her window and gestured at the gate. “It’s time you get going.”

“Wait, but we—we haven’t talked about any of this yet! I don’t even know what I’m doin’, or how long I’m here!”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

“Whatta ya mean?!”

Mia slammed her hand against the steering wheel, causing the horn to emit a mousey beep. “I mean it depends on you! It depends if you want to keep fucking around or if you want to have a future! When’re you gonna get it? This is the end of the road.”

“I—I have the right to know what I’m gettin’ into! You can’t just fuckin’ leave me here!”

Mia’s eyes stared at the boy like they were shooting lasers. “I don’t owe you anything, but I’ll tell you what they told me.” She paused briefly, creating a dramatic silence. “They won’t physically hurt you.”

Kyle furrowed his brow. “What the fuck?! That’s it?!”

Mia shrugged and slipped the phone into her purse. “That’s all they revealed.”

“What kinda place needs to make that clear?!”

“I don’t know, but you’re about to find out.” Mia hit the button for the automatic locks. “Get out of the car.” Mia held a coldness in her eyes that never previously had a home inside her. Her lips puckered with bitterness, and her heart thudded with fear. She hated that it had come to this but it was the only way to get through to him.

“But, Mom—”

“No buts!” Her inflection dropped. “You gave me no choice. So, get out of the fucking car, now.”

For the first time since he was a little boy, Kyle suddenly feared his mother and the choice she’d made on his behalf. Even before he’d gone away, he’d never seen her at her wit’s end. And the ominous gates erected before him were scary enough—never mind whatever lay beyond them.

The rusty bars provided him with a sinister epiphany; whatever was in store for him wasn’t going to be standard. Last-ditch efforts weren’t meant for the faint of heart.

As Mia watched him exit the vehicle, she thought about her recent road trip—the search for Kyle’s father, Lonnie. She hadn’t seen or heard from him in years. But just maybe, if Lonnie had been around and acted decent, they wouldn’t be in such a shitty situation to begin with.

Even after all the disappointment, with Lonnie being closer to what Mia hoped Kyle wouldn’t turn out to be, his nomadic lifestyle and criminal background might’ve given him some credibility in the eyes of their wayward son. Maybe Mia wouldn’t have taken such desperate (and mysterious) measures with Kyle if she could’ve tracked his father down.

But when one door closes another one opens. That’s what Mia’s grandma always used to say. However, there was no way to be sure it was the door she wanted.

She wondered if that was the case in this situation. While Mia hadn’t found Lonnie, she did find the shop, and more importantly—as a result of an evening within the walls of Morbid Curiosities—she’d found hope.

While there was no trace of Morbid Curiosities on the internet—not in brick and mortar, nor on that stretch of highway—she’d been there. The card was physical evidence, proof she hadn’t imagined the encounter with the strange, old woman. She reached into her purse and looked at it again, to reassure herself.

While the internet didn’t seem to acknowledge Venus or her shop, the organizers of this camp surely did. They spoke of her glowingly as they explained the nature of their own business.

Maybe Venus just likes to lay low, Mia thought. The aura of the shop definitely made it seem that way.

It didn’t matter anyhow. This camp was her last option, and perhaps Kyle’s last hope. And despite knowing very little about the people who were set to look after her son, she felt relief watching him reluctantly disappear into the fog.

The version of Kyle that hurt so many people with such nonchalance wasn’t one Mia desired to be around. He’d tried to put his hands on her once before. While his fingers were around her throat, there was a look in Kyle’s eyes that chilled her core. It forced Mia to consider that his hateful glare might be the last thing she ever saw. She was able to calm him once, but what about the next time?

If the people beyond the gates couldn’t find a way to change who he was, then maybe it was best that she never saw him again.

A GRAVE MEETING

The gates closed behind Kyle. He moved slowly through the fog, squinting back at the entrance. He wanted to believe that everything he was experiencing was all just a scare tactic—that his mother wasn’t really dropping him off at this stranger place.

A familiar sense of abandonment overcame him as he watched his mother’s headlights disappear into the thick brush surrounding the private road.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” he mumbled. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

Kyle considered running away. Turning his back on everything and everyone didn’t seem like the worst idea. But judging by the rural route they’d taken, it would be a long, dark walk back to civilization. It remained a viable option but might have to wait until morning.

Kyle looked up in awe at the massive, Gothic structure before him. The building looked more like something Dracula would roost in than a treatment center for troubled teens. High above Kyle’s head, gargoyles sat perched upon the aged, black bricks with their fangs forever bared. The front doors of the medieval construction were comprised of aged oak and at their centers hung large, circular knockers.

As Kyle reached for the ring, he heard a man’s voice.

“You’re not going in there.”

Kyle whipped around. In the eerie mist at the edge of the property stood Patricia and Patrick Crane. The pale pair of siblings were dressed for a funeral.

Patricia’s black dress was as dark as the night. She held a glowing oil lantern in her gloved hand. The light should’ve illuminated her face, but the spotted veil of her mourning bonnet obscured her expression.

Patrick’s suit was wrinkle-free and he wore a tie that matched not only his outfit but also his twin sister’s. His slicked-back hair was as black as a pool of tar, save for the lightning streak of ghostly white running from his forehead to the back of his skull. A pointed shovel rested over his shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Kyle responded.

Patrick pushed his circular spectacles from the tip of his nose to the bridge. “I said you’re not going into our manor, Kyle.”

“W—Where am I goin’ then?”

Patrick smirked. “Why, you’re going exactly wherever you’re headed, I suppose. You know where you’re headed, don’t you?”

“Look, man, I don’t know what kind of fruity Halloween shit you guys are on, but just tell me whatever I’m supposed to do so I can move on with my life.”

“That’s the spirit!” Patrick replied, waving him over. “Follow me and we’ll get to it.”

The Cranes turned away from Kyle and walked off into the night. As much as Kyle didn’t want to, he had no other option but to follow them.

“I’m Patrick and this is my sister, Patricia.”

“I’m Kyle—”

“We know who you are,” the twins said in stereo.

They continued beyond the Gothic structure. Hanging every dozen yards were many dangling strands of vegetation from the weeping willows surrounding the property.

Patricia’s lantern revealed a long stretch of wiry steel fencing. Some of the metal spikes at the top had broken off due to rust. The gating stretched higher than most, but the combination of fog and darkness made it hard to see.

“Where’re we goin’?” Kyle asked.

The vapor was so thick that he couldn’t be sure. But once they walked through the gates, it became all too obvious. The gravestones varied in size and shape. There weren’t many of them, but just one would’ve been enough to creep the shit out of Kyle.

“What the fuck is all this?” Kyle asked.

Patrick peered back at him. “Why you seem like a bright you man, can’t you figure it out?”

“It’s exactly what it seems,” Patricia said. “Exactly what it seems.”

Kyle took a step backward and his leg bumped into a stone. When he looked down the freshly tilled ground left his insides with a terrible feeling. His instincts screamed that something was wrong. “Why are there graves here?!”

“Oh dear, boy, that’s not just a grave.” Patricia’s lantern was just powerful enough to illuminate her twisted smile beneath the veil. “It’s your grave.”

“Man, fuck this!” Kyle had seen enough. He sprang into action bolting for the exit.

“Mr. Clay!” Patricia bellowed.

With a natural reaction, almost like he was expecting the boy to flee, Patrick quickly stuck the end of the shovel in front of the boy’s legs.

Kyle tumbled into the dirt at the graveyard gates. As he hit the ground, a towering figure appeared at the perimeter of the cemetery. From Kyle’s perspective, Mr. Clay’s frame nearly blocked out the entire entrance.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Patrick said.

Mr. Clay slapped his massive mitts around Kyle’s arm and lifted him off the ground. The light of the lantern momentarily illuminated Mr. Clay’s face.

What Kyle beheld rattled him to the bone.

The gooey flesh comprising his head was monstrously misshapen. It seemed Mr. Clay wasn’t just the man’s name but also his persona. His putty-like skull looked like a malformed ball a toddler had just finished beating—the randomness was all too bizarre and disturbing. The specific details were even more unsettling, Mr. Clay’s face had no mouth, nose, or ears. Aside from his head’s absurd shape, the only mark that seemed somewhat human was the long, horizontal slit that stretched across his forehead. Peeking out from the girthy lids, oozing a translucent fluid, was a globe-sized eyeball.

Mr. Clay tossed Kyle toward the tombstone he’d tried running away from, where Patrick was stomping the spade-tipped shovel into the dirt.

“Dig,” Patrick commanded squinting his eyes at Kyle.

Kyle’s heart raced faster. What kind of sick shit is this? he thought. The disgusting thing that had dragged him to the grave, the witchy creeps, the gothic fort—what’s happening? He knew the whole point of his visit was for these people to try to rattle him, but something felt off. The oozing eye of the cyclops staring at him looked so real. But it can’t be real, can it?

Kyle pointed at the crusty eye. “What the fuck is going on?! W—What is that thing?!”

“You want to throw your life away, don’t you?” Patricia asked. “Surely you wouldn’t be here otherwise. Surely you have already decided.”

“No! I just want—”

“It doesn’t matter what you want!” Patrick interrupted, pointing to his head. “Everything that goes on inside you—every shred of information your mind digests—it all means nothing if your actions can’t keep your head above ground. And the way you’re headed, it’s not really going to matter what you want.”

“So, now you must dig,” Patricia said. “I’m afraid there’s no other option. Otherwise, Mr. Clay may leave you in a bad way. But we don’t want it to come to that.”

“But my mom said—she said you wouldn’t hurt me!” Kyle yelled.

“We certainly told her we wouldn’t,” Patrick replied nodding with a grin. “But as a child more familiar with deception than most, you should understand that people lie.”

“They certainly do,” Patricia confirmed. “And for this to be a successful exercise—for you to glean what you must to evolve, there has to be a certain level of danger involved.”

“But why do you want me to dig?” Kyle asked. His heart pumped furiously—it felt like it was teetering on the brink of exploding.

“So you can see where your decisions are steering you,” Patricia replied.

Kyle shivered, trying to stay calm. His tough guy act was starting to crumble. He’d throw hands with anyone that got in his way until he laid eyes on the seven-foot cyclops in front of him. His eyes started to gloss over. His bottom lip was suddenly quivering. “I—I don’t understand.”

Patrick looked at Mr. Clay stoically before turning back to the boy. “We want you to know what it’s like to be dead.”

THE BOX

When Kyle started to dig, the dirt was already loose. To his chagrin, he was able to sink deep much quicker than he’d imagined. With each scoop of soil, Kyle’s anxiety increased. When his shovel finally smacked against the coffin’s wooden exterior, dread suckled upon his spirit.

“Open it,” Patrick commanded.

Still fearful, Kyle felt he had to obey. He intentionally took a few more moments, lollygagging as he cleared the dirt off the top of the box. When he lifted the lid, Kyle had no idea what to expect. The emptiness inside wasn’t shocking but the thought of occupying it made him feel sick to his stomach. When he heard the words from above, he felt weak in his knees.

“Get inside,” Patricia said.

Kyle looked back, eyeing Mr. Clay who still loomed over him. His massive eye didn’t blink.

“I—I can’t,” Kyle said.

“Get inside or Mr. Clay will put you inside!” Patrick said.

Mr. Clay took a step closer to the plot, his blackened silhouette was every bit as intimidating as the finer details of his eerie appearance.

“Okay,” he whimpered, voice beginning to crack.

A growing splotch of moistness manifested upon Kyle’s crotch, the piss leaking out of him represented the physical manifestation of his fears.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Kyle cried.

“Get in the box and you’ll find out,” Patrick replied.

Kyle looked down at the makeshift casket, remaining hesitant.

“Get in the fucking box, and lay down now!” Patrick persisted.

With defeat paddling through his watery eyes, Kyle’s legs began to buckle. Gravity guided him toward the stagnant air that lingered inside the ghastly container.

Patrick watched on as Kyle submitted to his sinister command. He watched him move into the box. Before the boy could even hunch down all the way, he kicked the lid shut.

As the lid smacked against Kyle’s shoulders and head, the pitch-black engulfed his surroundings. Panic instantly set in as Kyle squirmed around in the darkness, finally making his way onto his backside.

When he heard the weight of Mr. Clay stepping onto the coffin and the subsequent shovelfuls of dirt landing on top of it, Kyle lost it. He smashed his hands against the wooden tomb, commencing a wave of horrified screams blended with wails of desperation.

“I’ll fuckin’ get you for this! I’ll get all of you! I fuckin’ promise!” he screamed.

But as the dirt piled on, and the stench of his own piss intensified in the tight space, Kyle knew just how hollow his words were. He was still able to hear their muffled voices. Whatever they were saying wasn’t directed at him.

There was nothing else he could do, so he continued to ramble, suddenly changing his tune. “I’ll do whatever you want! I’m—I’m sorry!” He continued saying all the things he thought they wanted to hear. “No more fights! No more drugs! No nothing! Please, just let me the fuck out of here! You can’t do this!”

As the faint chatter of their voices faded completely, Kyle’s dread became more vibrant. He was breathing heavily and the scent of his pungent piss dominated the coffin. He nervously considered what he was going to do next as he tried to process what was happening.

None of it made any sense to him.

Each breath became further labored as he screamed out. “What the hell is going on? You can’t just leave me here! I’ll run out of air!”

ALONE IN THE DARK?

He’d only been in his new subterranean home a short time when the light came on. Amid the commotion, Kyle hadn’t noticed the small, flat bulb affixed to the interior lid. Upon activation, it became immediately clear what the purpose of the light was. Thoughtfully carved into the wood were three arrows.

One pointed left.

One pointed right.

One pointed above his head.

Kyle turned left. At the base of the coffin, he noticed a circular cut in the wood about the size of a baseball. He ran his fingers over the area frantically.

His first thought was relief. That must be where the air comes in! They’re not maniacs after all! That Cyclops thing is probably just some scary prosthetics! Like they use in all the monster movies or something! It has to be! How else could they expect to get away with something like this?

He wanted to believe his thoughts, but there was still something that bothered him. Everything around him still had a weird authenticity. The overall chilling tone of the Cranes and the shining secretions from Mr. Clay’s Goliath eyeball couldn’t be denied.

Convinced or not, he needed to pull the circular piece of wood from the area it had once been attached to. If there was anything that could be gained from the exploration, at this point, Kyle would gladly take it.

A small part of the rounded edge looked like it had been intentionally chipped so that one could dig their finger in. Sure enough, when Kyle stuck his digit into the dead pine, he was able to tug it out.

The black hole that revealed itself left much to the imagination. Kyle had no idea what its purpose was but prayed it was to funnel air into the casket—to keep him alive. While he felt like he was drawing a logical conclusion, what his ears picked up led him to believe his hope might be false.

“Hello?” a youthful, feminine voice asked.

“Hey!” Kyle yelled. “I need help, they—they stuck me in a coffin! I need to get out of here!”

“I’m afraid I won’t be much help…” the girl replied.

“Why?!”

“Because I’m stuck down here too. I think these small ducts are for air, or so we can talk to each other, or… who knows. The only thing I know for sure is there’s no way outta here.”

He hesitated before asking the question he feared the answer to. “How long have you been down here?”

“It’s hard to say. Long enough to be hungry.”

“How fuckin’ long?!” Kyle screamed.

“Several hours at least.”

Kyle slammed his fists against the wood, scraping the skin off his knuckles.

“That won’t do you any good,” she said. “I’ve inspected every inch. There’s no way out.”

“We’re gonna die down here! We’re gonna fuckin’ suffocate to death!”

“Just calm down—”

“How can you stay calm when—

“What’s your name?”

“Kyle.”

“Okay, Kyle, listen to me carefully. It took me a long time to get calm, I don’t need you undoing everything on me. The more panicked you are, the more oxygen you’ll use up. I know it’s hard, but just try to relax, okay?”

Her voice was tender and soothing—Kyle enjoyed the sound of it. It helped him control his emotions. She sounded sweet; like someone he’d want to take to a movie or bowling.

“It’s just hard,” Kyle explained. “I’m not good in tight spaces.” He placed his palm over the extreme rhythm of his heartbeat. It felt like his ticker was going to detonate. He tried to focus on what the girl said. He took slow, deep breaths and his heart rate started to slow.

“What would make you feel better?” she asked.

“I like the sound of your voice,” Kyle said. “Maybe we could just talk, I think that might help.”

“Okay, what should we talk about?”

“First, what’s your name?”

“My name’s Autumn. It’s nice to meet you, although I wish it could’ve been anywhere but here.”

Kyle felt a little more at ease. “Tell me about it. How did you end up here anyway? Isn’t this a place for fuck-ups? You sound so… sweet.” His heart started to race again, but this time, for a different reason.

“That’s really nice of you to say. I wish it was true, but I’ve made my share of mistakes.”

“Like what—if you don’t mind me asking…”

There was a pause—Autumn’s unexpected reluctance was palpable.

“If you don’t want to say, it’s okay…” Kyle said.

“No, I’ll tell you,” Autumn replied. “There’s no reason I should hide it. I’m here right now because I was—I mean, I am an addict.”

“That’s not so bad, what’re you addicted to?”

“Anything that stops me from feeling. I need a constant distraction. The needle was my favorite. It was heaven.”

“Heroin?”

Kyle wasn’t a total stranger to it. He’d seen other kids selling it and eventually ended up doing the same. His mom had found a big baggie of it between his mattress and box spring. Kyle even saw one kid in juvie smuggle some in. The kid must’ve taken too much at once because, a few days later, they found him dead in his bunk. Rumor was he’d overdosed. It was strange—a boy he’d interacted with from time to time just vanishing forever.

Although it didn’t negatively affect him, at the time, Kyle figured the boy for an idiot. People who were dumb enough to use hard drugs got what they deserved. It was for weak people, not people like Kyle.

Had he been able to sell what his mother had found before getting locked up, Kyle wouldn’t have thought twice about someone ODing from something he sold them. That was on them. But now, with this girl being so sweet to him in his time of desperation and fear, he reconsidered the callous thought. The reflection was one of darkness—a scummy feeling of shame and self-loathing floated about inside him.

“No, it wasn’t the heroin,” Autumn replied.

Kyle furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“It was what it did. It’s what any drug does. They distract us. So, I did everything—whatever I could get my hands on to take me away.”

Kyle almost didn’t want to ask. Things were depressing enough in the uncomfortable box. He tapped the side of his leg nervously before finally gathering the gall.

“Take you away from what?” he asked.

Autumn paused. “From my family.”

“I know what you mean. My mom can be a total bitch sometimes. And my dad, my dad… left us a while ago.”

“My dad left me too. And my mom. And my brother.”

“Why?”

“They didn’t have a choice. They didn’t abandon me or anything… they left in a different way.”

Kyle focused on her voice and slowed his breathing.

“I was just a little girl when it happened,” Autumn said. “I remember it so clearly, though. Too clearly. I guess that’s always been my problem.”

Kyle nervously cleared his throat but couldn’t think of anything to say. He decided to just listen.

“I remember like it was yesterday. It was Halloween night and we were all dressed up as the characters from The Wizard of Oz. We were just supposed to be going through a spooky corn maze. I didn’t know I’d be the only one that came out alive…”

“Shit,” Kyle gasped. The scenario sounded odd. He wanted to ask her to go into detail, but held his tongue.

“It’s okay, I’ve accepted what happened. I’ve accepted that they’re in a better place. I even changed my name, not legally or anything, but I still changed it. When I got placed with my adopted parents, I thought that’d help me detach from what happened. That it’d help me move on. I just wanted to accept it and move on.”

Kyle could hear her struggling to keep her tears from exploding. Her sniffles and the agony that weighed on her tone were heartbreaking.

“But what I could never accept or forget, is what they looked like when that man—no, that monster was done with them. I just keep seeing what he did to them. Their blood. Their bones. It didn’t even look like them anymore. It felt like a horror movie or something, but it wasn’t. It was my family. I had enough sense to hide in the cornstalks, but looking back on it, I wish I hadn’t. Watching them all die was probably worse than getting ripped apart alongside them. It’s my biggest regret.”

Kyle remained speechless.

“It’s my constant hell,” Autumn continued.

“Wow,” Kyle whispered.

“That wasn’t even the worst thing…”

Kyle felt like she wanted him to prompt her to elaborate, but he couldn’t. The story was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable. It didn’t matter though, after a moment she continued on.

“I did anything and everything I could to escape the memory. Pills, booze, dust, needles. I didn’t have money, and I was too messed up to get any kind of job, so I just started fucking whoever would give it to me. It became a cycle. I needed the drugs to not remember, but the things I had to do to get them were more memories that I would need help to forget. Until it felt like everything needed to be buried. Until I needed to be buried. Then, one day, it all just stopped working.”

“What do you mean?”

“The escape had escaped. Somehow, the drugs lost their power. Maybe I’d become too tolerant, I don’t know, but it terrified me. Remembering my family, and all the horrible things I’d done to forget them, was overwhelming. I could hardly see because of the tears dripping from my eyes. I was so scared. I couldn’t face it alone, not like that.”

The story gripped Kyle. It was so dark and disturbing to him that he forgot about their current situation. It also made him realize that his life wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d thought it was. He considered that he would have been the kid selling her the escape, instead of a friend trying to help her put her life back together. Did he really want to be that person?

He looked back at the pine box surrounding him. If he didn’t make it out, how would he be remembered? The legacy he’d left behind wouldn’t be a good one. It was one of selfishness and chaos, more about the stresses he put on others than anything he’d accomplished.

“So, what did you do?” Kyle asked.

“I just wanted to go for a drive,” she said. “I was old enough to drive but I’d never gotten my shit together enough to get my license. It was about a year ago, I was sixteen. I just kept telling myself it couldn’t be that hard. It sounds dumb, but I kept thinking that maybe I could just drive. Drive away from everyone I’d ever disappointed. Drive away from my problems. I—I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” Autumn started to sniffle before breaking down completely.

“It’s okay, I’m sure you didn’t mean to—”

A pounding like a fist on wood rumbled through the vent along with Autumn’s voice. “It’s not okay damnit! It’s not fucking okay!”

Kyle was taken aback by her sudden shift in tone. It was like she’d snapped. He didn’t mean to trigger her. For once, he was trying to help comfort someone. Maybe that was because, secretly, it was what he yearned for.

“I killed people that day!” Autumn yelled. “Slamming that car into them is no different than what that maniac did when he took my whole family! Sure, the road we took wasn’t the same, but the end result was! It was more blood. More bones. More death. I became the monster that day. So, maybe I’m supposed to be here. Maybe I’m just getting what I deserve.”

The concept was too heavy for Kyle to comment. But it didn’t take long for Autumn to prompt him.

“You still there?” Autumn asked.

“Yeah,” Kyle replied.

“What do you think?”

It was a loaded question but Kyle had to answer her. He cleared his throat. “I think you had a crazy, fucked-up life. I don’t think that’s your fault. I know you didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“But I still did.”

“You can’t change that now. We can only try and get out of this horrible place and be better. Maybe if we do, maybe someday, we can make up for it. Even if we can’t, we can at least try to, right?”

“Why are you here?”

“I don’t mean to sound like a jerk, but I don’t think it matters anymore. I really just want to see my mother. We need to get out of here. Can we talk about that?”

“Sure. But it doesn’t seem like there is a way out.”

“We’ll we can’t give up,” Kyle said. “I’m talking to you through this hole on my left, but there’s two others I haven’t opened. One above my head, and one on the other side of it. Does it look that way in your…” He still had trouble believing he was saying the word. “In your coffin?”

“Um, no,” Autumn replied. “I don’t see anything else in mine, just this one hole.”

“Okay, give me a second, I’m gonna open the other two now.”

As Kyle pulled open the wooden spheres, he heard one blood-curdling scream followed by a second.

“Get them off me!” said the first voice. “Ah! Help! Get them off!”

The second couldn’t put any words together. Instead, there erupted a horrified howl.

“What’s going on?!” Kyle screamed.

“What’s happening?!” Autumn cried.

“I don’t know but something’s wrong! Something’s—ah! Fuck! It’s bugs! They’re everywhere!”

It was like they’d been waiting for Kyle to pop open the two tubes. The bugs appeared in abundance. The circular wooden covers that he’d pulled out quickly became buried in countless wiry legs and oily torsos. The insect army was a mixture of the slimiest, squirmiest, creepiest vermin. The girthy, hissing roaches and scuttering centipedes carried glistening maggots and worms on their hard-shelled casings. Eager pill bugs, agitated ants, and a variety of spiders made their way along.

There were no more words, only howls of terror as Kyle kicked at the coffin lid and pounded his cut knuckles against it. He felt the scratchy limbs and unbecoming bodies of the sickening pests begin to move into his hair and about his neck. Then, just as he plugged up his earholes, the bottom of his coffin gave out.

FALL FROM DISGRACE

The fall was tall enough to cause serious injury, and as the wind whipped against him, Kyle felt like he was hanging in the air forever. Even as he descended, the feeling of the frantic insects scraping against his skin distracted him from the huge plummet.

As he crashed into the water, he thought he was dying until he realized that the stinging pain on his backside was fleeting, and he was still alive. In one way, dropping into the frigid liquid was a relief. With the bugs clinging to his body taking a dip wasn’t the worst thing. But for a more personal reason, the water was maybe even more terrifying than staying inside a coffin with the insidious insects.

The force of Kyle’s fall submerged him several feet deep. As he kicked and pulled his way up, he finally made it back above water.

He immediately voiced his fears to anyone who was listening. “HELP! I—I can’t swim!”

He frantically windmilled his arms, flailing about wildly in desperation.

The overall shock of the tumble wasn’t lost on him. As he gasped for air in his rattled state, Kyle accidentally swallowed a cluster of the bugs floating atop the water. The water that accompanied them helped them down his throat quickly, but he still felt their bristly extremities scratching their way down his esophagus. He coughed and gagged, trying to tread water and gasping for oxygen.

Amid the commotion, a muscular arm suddenly came from behind and clamped under Kyle’s neck, tugging him backward. He hadn’t even had a moment to assess where he was, never mind where he was going. While the grip of the arm was so firm it bordered on suffocating him, Kyle was grateful he was no longer drowning.

Moments later, his feet were being dragged against the ground and he was out of the water. When Kyle felt the shore’s sand against his body, he mustered what little strength he still had and turned his head. A tall boy with dirty blonde hair stood dripping wet, his arms crossed.

The boy who’d rescued Kyle was a few years his senior. He looked overwhelmed and equally exhausted. “You alright, man? Sorry I had to choke you, I just didn’t want you to take me down. I’m Josh—ah!” Josh squealed and punched himself in the leg. Shaking his body crazily, he tried to ensure all of the creepy crawlers had fallen off of him. “Those fucking bugs are gnarly, man!” He continued to feel over his drenched clothing. “I think they’re all gone now.”

Kyle’s eyes widened, recalling the horror from moments prior. Without hesitation, he stuck his finger down his throat, scraping at his uvula, and attempted to force himself to vomit. A watery horde of squishy vermin rumbled up. The barf splattered the ground, the still wriggling insects landing in front of him. The hairy spiders, centipedes, and others were all saturated in chunks of his vomit but remained alive.

Josh lifted his boot and brought it down on the pile. The inky bug guts squirted in all directions.

“Ugh, so fuckin’ nasty!” Kyle screeched, helplessly clawing around his mouth. It was as if he was impossibly searching for a way to somehow erase the prickly memory of the bugs being inside him.

Finally, with the insects gone, Kyle was able to focus on the things happening around him. He heard two other sets of splashes drawing closer. As Kyle turned in the direction of the noise, the two girls were just making their way out of the water.

In front of him stood a girl with the kindest eyes. Something inside just told him that it was her. Autumn was even more beautiful than she sounded in the grave. As she wrung her wet, black hair out, Kyle stared into her hazel eyes—they warmed his cold chest.

Beside her stood another girl that looked a few years younger than Autumn. Not quite as attractive, but pretty in her own right. Her ponytail was wet and the glasses that she’d somehow managed to keep on her face were speckled with water.

“Autumn?” Kyle asked.

His instincts proved correct. The girl who made his heart pump harder raced toward him.

“Kyle!” Autumn yelled, helping him to his feet.

Once he was stable, Autumn wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tight.

“Hey, I’m the one who saved him,” Josh whined. “Where’s my hug?”

“How do you two know each other?” the girl with the glasses interjected.

“We could hear each other from inside the coffins.” Kyle looked back at Autumn. “I’m guessing Josh, and…” He pointed to the other girl. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“I’m Kerri.”

“I’m guessing Josh and Kerri were the other two people I heard screaming, just before the bugs arrived.”

“Yeah, those sick fuckers made me dig my own grave,” Josh replied.

“That’s what happened to me too!” Kerri said.

“Sounds like they did the same thing to all of us,” Kyle said, still trying to gain his wind back. “Why are you guys here? Are your parents as crazy as my mom? Can’t believe she left me with these fuckin’ psychos!”

“Pretty much,” Kerri nodded.

“Yeah,” Josh agreed.

“What did you guys do?” Autumn asked.

“My parents think I lie too much…” Kerri said.

“I had to crack a few skulls,” Josh said. “Sometimes people just got it coming, you know what I mean? I’m sure you’ve had to lay a few people out yourself.” Josh grinned, cracking his knuckles and looking at Kyle.

Kyle noticed a look of disgust trace over Autumn’s face as she digested Josh’s revelation. He decided to stay silent, acting like the question was rhetorical.

“And what about you?” Autumn persisted.

Kyle ignored the question and started examining their surroundings. He looked out at the water and rocks, then back in the other direction. Across from the water, there was only one route. A tight path that was dark and dreary. Even darker than the area they were in.

“Where the hell are we?” Kyle asked. “Is this some kind of cave?”

“Why do you keep avoiding the question?” Autumn persisted, squinting her eyes.

“Look, I’m not avoiding it, okay?!” Kyle stomped his heel. “It doesn’t matter how we got here. All that matters is that we need to get the fuck out, now. Before one of us ends up dead.”

His response was partially true—they did need to act immediately. But the less than transparent aspect of the answer was that he didn’t want Autumn to know that he’d been selling drugs and put someone in the hospital. She might see him differently. What if she viewed him as part of the problem? What if she blamed ‘people like him’ as part of the reason for her own personal horrors?

Kyle liked her too much to allow that to happen. If they got out of there, maybe there was a chance they could be friends or more. Therefore, no answer would’ve been better than the one he’d provided Autumn.

“I can agree with that,” Josh said.

“No one wants to get out of here more than me,” Kerri concurred, shivering as she folded her arms, trying to keep warm.

“Fine, where do we go from here then?” Autumn asked.

Kyle pointed to the tunnel of darkness. “Looks like there’s only one path…”

TUNNEL OF TERROR

Josh led the group down the dreary trail, while Kyle secured the rear. Neither the boys nor the girls were excited about their trek into the unknown, but there was nothing else they could do except move forward.

The tunnel looked nefarious in nature. After traveling past several turns, surrounded by pure darkness, they finally found some light. Just a few flickering lanterns were placed sporadically on the walls throughout the narrow path. The dim lighting left a little too much to teenagers’ fear-soaked imaginations.

Suddenly, they reached the end of the trail. An old stone wall blocked them from advancing any further.

Josh pushed up against the damp stone, but it wasn’t budging. “Great.” The sarcasm oozed off his face as he turned back toward the others. “Now what the hell are we supposed to do?”

Before Kyle could offer a suggestion, from the darkness above, a huge rope netting dropped over Josh. The web of twine encompassed the taller teen’s entire body. He clawed at it frantically, attempting to free himself. As cries of terror exited Josh, the two ropes on each side of the meshwork swiftly elevated.

“Help!” Josh begged. “Help me!”

As Josh’s body elevated into the darkness above, the stone wall at the end of the path began to slide up.

“Hold on!” Kyle yelled, jumping to grab hold of him. But by the time Kyle made his attempt to rescue Josh, he had already been pulled out of reach.

The remaining three were spooked. They had no idea if more nets would be dropping to whisk them away, or how long the opening ahead would be exposed.

“You can’t help him, he’s already gone!” Kerri cried. “We need to move forward before they get us too!”

Kerri didn’t hesitate and quickly rushed ahead, through the mysterious opening.

Kyle tried one more pointless jump toward Josh. He hadn’t known the boy long but felt loyalty toward him. He felt that he owed him. Josh had saved his life, and watching him ascend into the darkness above, screaming like a toddler, made Kyle’s intestines rattle.

As the stone entrance finished fully opening up, Autumn finally took hold of Kyle. “Kerri’s right, we can’t help him right now, we’ve gotta move or we might be next!”

“But—But—”

“There’s no time! We’ve gotta go!” Autumn yelled, yanking his hand forward.

She gripped Kyle’s palm tightly and pulled him through the entrance. The moment they crossed the threshold, the slab of stone came crashing back down to the dirt floor, eliminating the option of retracing their steps.

“What the fuck!” Kyle yelled.

“Why the hell are they doing this to us?” Kerri asked.

“I don’t know,” Autumn said.

Kyle remained irate. He liked being in control but control was a distant memory. Everything was happening so fast. He hadn’t had time to digest it all. Still shell-shocked by Josh’s abrupt kidnapping, he forced his focus elsewhere. As he took in the aesthetics of the eerie room, Kyle realized there was far more to be concerned about.

The wall behind them was a massive, metallic grid. Small circles were punched out about every couple of inches or so. On the other side of the room sat a sealed-off rectangle comprised of transparent glass.

Through the clear barrier, Kyle noticed a red leather chair riddled with restraints. The wall behind it was adorned with various tools—the likes of which one might find inside a woodworking shop. Hanging from the ceiling was a spherical object that sparkled like a disco ball. It was about the same size as one, except it was all black and had a trio of coils around it. A lengthy, gray wire hung down from the object and dangled in front of the chair.

“What the fuck is that?” Kyle asked.

“Doesn’t look good,” Kerri replied.

Autumn looked around the room, desperately searching for a way to progress. “I don’t think we should be here.”

“What do you mean?” Kyle asked.

Autumn pressed her fingers against to wall as if she might stumble upon a secret switch that would suddenly set them free. “I’m getting Deja Vu. It feels like something horrible is about to happen. We need to get out of here right now!”

Before Kyle could answer her, a loud hissing noise enveloped the room. A thick, purple gas began to expel from the various holes in the gridding behind them.

“What is that?!” Kerri cried.

“Your idea is as good as mine!” Kyle replied.

“You think it’s poison?!” Autumn added.

“I’d rather not find out,” Kyle said.

Autumn clenched Kyle’s hand and squeezed it harder. She was concerned about the gas, but equally concerned for her friend.

“What do we do?” Kerri cried.

Kyle didn’t know how to answer. “Just try to hold your breath.”

The three of them tried, but eventually, they had no choice but to ingest the purple haze.

As they sucked in the synthetic fog, within a matter of seconds, each of their bodies slouched into the sand below.

SCHOOLHOUSE SHAM

When Kyle awoke, he realized that someone was missing. Autumn’s soft hand remained joined with his, but Kerri was nowhere to be seen.

Through the transparent glass ahead stood Mr. Clay. His distorted, expressionless face was shrouded by darkness. But while the room might’ve been black, the appalling slime that secreted from his lone, enormous pupil remained visible. The tiny specs of light glistened off the disgusting drizzle that extended over his burly chest and down his body.

Mr. Clay’s otherworldly appearance sent a flurry of shivers down Kyle’s spine. He turned to Autumn and shook her gently. “Wake up, wake up!”

She remained unconscious.

The lights in the room were activated.

When Kyle looked back through the glass the most recent mystery was solved—Kerri sat strapped into the red leather chair, a bar-shaped mouth gag wedged between her jaws, and absolute terror bled from her eyes.

“What kind of sick shit is this?” Kyle said.

Mr. Clay pulled at a cable hanging from the black orb attached to the ceiling.

Kyle had no idea what the device was but watched the pointed steel prong at the end of the wire as it momentarily glimmered in the darkness.

Mustering just a fraction of his overtly perverse strength, Mr. Clay jammed the end of the cable directly between Kerri’s eyebrows, far enough to allow the crimson to cascade down her frightened face.

“No!” Kyle screamed.

He stood up, desperately searching for a way to infiltrate the box.

There was no door.

Kyle pounded on the glass, but Mr. Clay paid him no mind. He just turned his leaking peeper toward the wall to his right. The ebony sphere began to crackle with electricity and light projected off it until the room was illuminated. A flash of images suddenly erupted, displaying a ghastly chain of events.

First, it showed an older, balding man sitting solemnly behind his desk in what looked to be a classroom. The green chalkboard behind him had the words ‘I will behave’ written on it repeatedly.

“I’m going to have to have another talk with your parents,” the teacher said. “Your behavior is unacceptable. I’ve told you over and over and nothing changes.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Kerri’s voice screeched out. “You’re just a fucking weirdo, Mr. Claflin. You’re gonna regret this!”

The man shook his head.

The imagery shifted and Kyle realized he was now looking through Kerri’s perspective. The visuals continued as Kerri huffed angrily to herself. She looked around at the other members of the class who seemed to be in shock, then shifted back to Mr. Claflin’s desk—her vision focused on a red stapler on the corner of his desk.

“You’ll regret it,” Kerri whispered.

The flashes erupted once again, showing Kerri in front of a mirror in her bedroom.

Kyle’s jaw unhinged at the sight.

Kerri stood holding the same red stapler that was on Mr. Claflin’s desk. Carefully, she opened it until it was straight, then propped her leg on the corner of her bed.

Slowly she inserted the head of the stapler between her legs and began to work it inside herself. After maneuvering it back and forth feverishly, she tapped the head of it over her vaginal lips several times. The staples ejected, some grabbing hold of the flesh and hanging on, others just scraping the meat enough to draw blood.

She repeated the process—the look on her face growing more hateful as the pain surged. Digging harder against the flesh, longer gashes opened. Blood trickled down, glazing over her underwear and legs.

The imagery switched again, and this time Kerri was placing the stapler back on Mr. Claflin’s desk. The scene transitioned to her sitting in front of what Kyle assumed were her parents. They held enough similarities to the girl to make such a deduction.

“He did what to you?!” her father screamed.

“It’s the truth, Dad!” Kerri cried.

The next part of the footage showed Kerri walking home from school by herself. Suddenly, a car screeched to a halt beside her. The black and blue, warped face of Mr. Claflin stared into her darting eyes. He smiled at her nefariously, brandishing a row of broken teeth and swollen gums.

As his car door launched open, Kerri tried her best to run away, but failed. The next scene showed Kerri restrained to a red leather chair, much like the one she was currently bound to.

“You ruined everything,” Mr. Claflin said. “Your little lie ruined my entire life. You took everything from me. Every tiny thing.”

He picked up the boxcutter.

Kyle watched as Mr. Clay mirrored the actions unfolding in the perverse projection. He reached back and sifted through the tools to obtain a blade of his own.

“I can’t even sleep anymore, you even took that from me,” Mr. Claflin said. “And even worse, when I’m awake, I just feel sick. Everyone thinks I’m—I’m this monster. May as well be one at this point, right?”

Kerri struggled helplessly in the chair as the razor’s point got closer to her face.

“Do you understand what that’s like?” he continued. “Spending every waking second with your guts feeling like they’re gonna explode? I imagine you don’t. But I’m your teacher, and it’s my job to help you understand.”

The madness in his eyes twinkled as he finished delivering the cold explanation. He moved the razor down and lifted her shirt with it, gritting his broken teeth as he cut into her belly. The blade dropped into her deep enough to completely part all layers of skin. Being a biology teacher, he located her stomach easily. He opened up a small, half-inch slit on the slimy exterior of the organ.

While Kerri screamed and cried, both Mr. Claflin and Mr. Clay simultaneously reached for the air compressor hose attached to the ground unit.

The machine activated and the end of the tube was inserted into the opening in Kerri’s stomach. Her fleshy food pouch distended immediately. Before long, it was filled to capacity and the rubbery tissue inflated to psychedelic dimensions. When the amount of unwelcome oxygen finally became too much, her stomach exploded—popping like an overfilled balloon at a child’s birthday party.

The foul mixture of stomach acid, blood, and partially digested food splattered over the transparent window.

Kyle shuddered. As the vile concoction obscured his view, he slid down to his knees and began to whimper.

“Kyle, what the hell’s going on?!” Autumn yelled, finally regaining consciousness.

He tried to respond but couldn’t.

Confused, Autumn looked at his broken demeanor and the human slop that had been slathered across the window. The dread found her, but her survival instincts kicked in.

“What happened?” she asked making her way to her feet.

“She—She’s gone,” Kyle cried.

Perking up her ears, Autumn zeroed in on the sound of the stone shifting. When she turned around, the wall beside the gory cell began to slide open.

“What do you mean?” Autumn asked.

“She was in the room! That thing… it… it put her all over the fucking walls.”

It was difficult for Autumn to register any emotion with all the other chaos underway. There was nothing she could say that would change what had happened. She bent over and lifted Kyle up.

“I can’t,” Kyle whimpered.

“We’ve gotta keep going,” she said, tugging him through the opening.

CRASH AND BURN

The stone slab came crashing down behind them. Autumn was shaken and Kyle was beyond rattled. He’d thrown fists with other kids on many occasions, but his penchant for violence was suddenly insignificant compared to the horrors he’d been confronted with at Cemetery Camp.

The room they entered this time was far bigger than the last, but to their absolute dread, there was another glass encasement.

Kyle’s eyes widened.

This encasement was even larger. On one end of the rectangular box sat a blue Toyota Celica. At the other end was a Dodge minivan. Similar to what was in the previous room, a dark, coil-clad sphere hung above the Toyota, except this one was on a track attached to the ceiling. It stretched from where the Toyota was parked—about a hundred yards away—to the end where a minivan sat.

Upon taking in the sight, Autumn dropped to her knees. “Nooooo!”

“What is it?!” Kyle asked.

“It’s my life.”

Suddenly, from behind, a massive blob of translucent fluid splattered over Autumn’s head.

“What the fuck?” Kyle yelled, watching in horror as the slime bonded to her. It was as if the sludge was alive, because as Autumn screamed, the slop squirmed until it encompassed her entire skull.

It could have easily suffocated her, but instead, the slime evacuated her nostrils and the surrounding area. It seemed to want her alive.

Kyle pivoted and was confronted by a domineering figure—the drooling eyeball embedded in Mr. Clay’s head stared back at him, erupting a pinkish goo. Kyle’s shout was stunted as the goop slathered his body.

He desperately tried scraping off the vile fluid, but it sank into Kyle’s crevices. The eye sludge drenched his scalp and slithered down his face. He fell to the ground, hysterically pulling clumps of the discharge off his body.

Mr. Clay dragged Autumn through the clear door. Once they were inside the see-through chamber, he discharged another load of his pupil porridge around the door frame, sealing them inside.

While the exterior of the Toyota Celica was exactly as Autumn remembered, the driver’s seat was not. There were dozens of thin, hypodermic needles protruding from the cushion—the iron maiden of driver’s seats.

Autumn’s face was almost completely enveloped by Mr. Clay’s eye crud, so she could offer little protest as he forced her into the seat. Her gunky eyes widened as the thin needles penetrated her back.

Mr. Clay kept one hand around her throat, holding her in place, and used the other to punch through the mini triangle of glass at the rear of the vehicle.

The army of needles were filled with Autumn’s drug of choice, but her heavenly escape didn’t look so enticing anymore. A single-hand crank was attached to the board nestled against the numerous needle plungers.

As Mr. Clay began to crank, the board inched forward. The black tar invaded every inch of her body. Autumn’s heart accelerated, and as she convulsed, Mr. Clay removed his hand from her throat.

After buckling her in, he grabbed hold of the dangling wire drooping down from the sparkling black orb. He ran it through the driver’s side window and, just as he’d done to Kerri, he jammed the pointed tip into Autumn’s forehead, commencing a bloody secretion.

As Mr. Clay put the Toyota in drive and dropped a cinderblock on the accelerator, Kyle had just torn enough sludge off of his face to see what came next. As he glared through teary eyes at the Celica peeling out, Kyle knew he was watching Autumn’s final moments. The girl that, in just a short time, he undoubtedly felt something for was screeching toward death.

“Noooooooooo!” Kyle pleaded.

As the car picked up speed and closed in on the minivan, the dark sphere slid down the rail, generating electrical energy above her.

When Autumn’s quaking body was just a short distance from its final destination, Kyle saw the orb project light into the other vehicle. As he watched the interior of the minivan, Kyle saw the bleeding brightness portray what he believed to be the ghostly images of the family that Autumn had inadvertently killed.

When the Celica crashed head-on into the screaming spectral family, the haunting apparitions wailed. A fierce explosion of blue and orange flames overtook their images, licking them into liquefaction.

Despite wearing her seatbelt, the front end of the vehicle crumpled inward far enough to turn Autumn into a pulpy mangle of pure horror.

“Autumn!” Kyle wailed, aghast at the sight of the awful wreckage.

The broken glass.

The twisted metal.

The eager flames

The blood and meat.

The bodily destruction.

Blood erupted over Autumn’s face, meshing with Mr. Clay’s heavy slather of eye-booger. The disgusting texture splattered over the interior. She was a crash-test dummy without a chance, yet, amid his own cries, Kyle heard her screams.

As the flames bubbled, Autumn’s flesh popped and crackled. But when the fire encompassed both vehicles, the room quickly filled with smoke and the girl’s gut-wrenching moans subsided.

Kyle had little time to mourn her, because as Autumn’s flesh began to char, he heard a stone section at the far end of the room opening.

END OF THE LINE

When Kyle arrived in the next space, another sealed, transparent cell stood at the end of the room. The area accessible to him was no bigger than the dining room of a fast-food restaurant.

Within the cell, just a few yards ahead, stood both Cranes, along with Mr. Clay. They grinned wide at Kyle in a manner that made him uncomfortable.

The room was filled with a variety of weapons—baseball bats, clubs, knives, swords, axes, and hatchets. Everything a sadist might imagine.

Patrick approached an area of the glass that was speckled with holes. He lifted a small remote control and clicked one of the many buttons on its surface. “Mr. Simms, I’m afraid this is your moment.”

The wall at the far side of the room began to slide open. To Kyle’s relief, it revealed Josh. He stood shaking, shock drenching his expression with a pair of metal handcuffs fastened around his wrists. A long gray cable had been rammed into his head, just as Mr. Clay had done to Kerri and Autumn. It stretched back into the doorway, and Kyle could see the black, sparkling orb it was tethered to.

“Jesus,” Kyle whispered.

He’d figured Josh for dead, so despite his sad state, Kyle was still happy to see him. It was good to be in the presence of someone else who wasn’t completely mad. But the dread of what else lay in store for him outweighed any relief.

“What—What do you mean?” Kyle asked, voice trembling.

“You’re almost done,” Patrick replied. “All you have to do now is just… kill Joshua.”

Kyle was speechless.

Patrick shrugged his shoulders. “That’s it. Then it’s over. After that, you can leave.”

“Kill—what—why?” Kyle asked shaking his head.

“To exorcise the demon. So, you won’t be curious about it later. Your violent tendencies, narcissistic personality, and most importantly, the DNA structure from your sample suggests that you could turn into something far more monstrous than the little shit you are present day. Get it done and free yourself from the shackles that nature has clasped around you.”

“KILL HIM!” Patricia bellowed.

“This is crazy, I—I can’t,” Kyle cried, tears oozing down his face.

“Hey!” Josh yelled. “What about me?! This isn’t fair.”

Patrick smiled. “We don’t give a good fuck about you, Josh. This is about Kyle.”

Kyle recalled just a short time ago when Josh dragged him out of a deep pool of water in the cave. He’d saved him from certain death. The stew of emotions inside him felt sickening. Any traces of the badass that remained in him had wilted just a short time after arriving at the property.

In his heart, mind, and soul, he had a simultaneous epiphany—he understood just how damn good his mother was now. The only person in the entire world that actually cared about him, and he’d pushed her away. He didn’t even acknowledge their relationship. She was only trying to help him. Had he corrupted her to the point where she was driven to become the monster?

Is that why she brought me here? Kyle wondered.

“Time’s a-wasting, Mr. Simms,” Patrick said.

“I won’t do it,” Kyle replied firmly.

“Well, Josh,” Patrick said, turning to the other boy, “then I suppose, if you’d like to get out, just kill Kyle. Either way, one of you has to die for this to end. Either that, or you can both fucking starve to death.” He looked at his fingernails.

Josh quickly stretched his cuffed arms toward the baseball bat leaning against the wall. He lifted it off the ground.

“What are you doing?” Kyle asked.

“I’m sorry, man,” Josh said taking a few steps toward Kyle.

“Wait—we can figure something out,” Kyle pleaded.

He didn’t wait for Josh to answer, though. Kyle reached for the sheath on the ground and extracted a silver sword. Light glimmered off the blade as he readied it. He’d never used a sword before—the blade’s weight was heavier than expected—but he pointed it at Josh, trying his best to ward him off.

Josh continued forward.

“Back off!” Kyle cried. “I don’t wanna fuckin’ do this!”

“It just feels so right, though,” Josh replied taking another step toward him. He raised the baseball bat high above his head. The handcuffs weren’t much of a hindrance.

There were countless thoughts in Kyle’s head—too many to concentrate. But one thing was glaring. When Josh lifted the bat, he’d left his body open. The young man’s torso called to Kyle. He didn’t want to do it, but Josh was giving him no choice.

Kyle needed to see his mother again.

There was so much unfinished business between them. So many things he’d never realized that he suddenly needed to tell her. The heightened emotions were only further amplified by understanding that there was a highly plausible scenario where he might not get the chance.

When Kyle lunged forward, the point of the sword was aimed at Josh’s heart. As he drove the blade, it was as if he wasn’t in control of his movements anymore. A primal instinct had taken hold of him.

Kyle wasn’t expecting to end Josh’s life with such minimal effort. The steel ran through his chest with ease, skewering multiple organs en route to reemerging from his backside—a lengthy, red smear eclipsing the once reflective blade.

Josh dropped the bat. As the steel entered him, generous amounts of blood exited his mouth.

The horrific gurgles and desperate gasps, caused an excess of tears to surge from Kyle’s. His eyelids were wet with grief as Josh fell by his side.

“Bravo!” Patrick yelled, clapping his hands together, as if he’d just seen a marvelous stage play.

“Go on, finish him up,” Patricia instructed. “No need to leave him in a state of elongated pain.”

Kyle reluctantly picked up the bat from beside Josh’s tremoring body. Despite knowing he had to finish it, he still didn’t want to.

“Just a whap or two on the head and it’ll all be over, young Kyle,” Patrick reminded.

Kyle cocked the wooden slugger back and brought it down as hard as he could on Josh’s scalp. The crack resounded and Kyle winced at the sound of wood cracking against bone.

Josh’s skull was now bloody and malformed. The skin had been busted wide open and a mixture of pinkish and off-white colors had been revealed. The red continued to squirt from the gash as the boy shuttered.

The black sphere in the opening crackled with electricity. Light leaked out of it as it had done in each of the previous rooms.

“Finish it!” Patricia bellowed. “Finish it now! You must go all the way! At this point, it’s for his own good! You’d be doing him a favor!”

Something inside Kyle snapped. The woman was right. His strikes weren’t hard enough. He needed to finish fast, not only for Josh’s sake but for his own.

The oak came down several more times as fear fueled Kyle’s barrage of blows. He cringed as Josh’s head came apart and erupted outward, the once healthy teenage head now a pile of caved-in slop.

As each blow landed, the light shined out further from the orb, creating the supernatural outline of a different shape behind him. Someone whose body type seemed closer to Josh’s.

When Kyle finally got a hold of himself, the outline dissipated, and the image of the quivering chunks brought on sickness. As Kyle vomited on the side of Josh’s static body, he knew that final image would never leave him. He’d turned the boy into human mud.

When the flow of vomit dried up, the tears started. Hysterical cries for the unspeakable and unforgivable actions he’d just taken. The selfish person that he’d thought died in the coffin some hours ago was suddenly back and just the thought of it made him sick.

“That’s enough, Mr. Simms,” Patrick said. “Stand up and stop the crying.”

Kyle continued his incessant sobbing. Regardless of how scared he was, he was no longer in control of such things. He’d traveled far past his breaking point.

“You do want to get out of here, don’t you?” Patrick asked.

Despite his overwhelming emotions, Kyle mustered a smidge more strength and rose to his feet. The hatred bubbled inside him.

“You’ll never get away with this,” Kyle managed. “Someone’ll find out.”

“Get away with what? We haven’t done a thing,” Patrick replied.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” Kyle yelled. “You people are out of your minds. All of you!”

Patricia grinned and snapped her fingers.

Mr. Clay was triggered by the action. He moved to the wall on the far, left side of their enclosure and grabbed the steel lever.

Cocking her head up, Patricia made eye contact with Kyle through her veil. “Allow us to show you.”

PLAYING GOD

Kyle watched as his captors stepped aside and the wall behind them elevated, revealing a sight so outlandish Kyle felt it couldn’t be real. But it was.

Four clear tanks filled with turquoise fluid stood erect. But it wasn’t the tanks that stunned him, it was what lay inside them.

Floating in the containers were the three companions that had been at Kyle’s side for the duration of his horrific odyssey. Their eyes were closed and their bodies were whole. They looked peaceful, as if asleep or in a medically induced stasis.

“The new clones will be ready just mere hours from now,” Patrick explained. “By the time you leave the premises, in fact. You see we stagger their production. That way, there can be no repercussions for the work we do. They are never truly gone, they’re always with us.”

Kyle’s eyes opened with disbelief.

Patrick pointed to the bodies. “Besides, just like these ones, and just like you, all of our clients are delinquents. It would be in your very best interest to keep your lips sealed. We’ve been doing this for a long time. We’re holding every card. You can either learn from this or become part of it.”

“Wh—What are you talking about?” Kyle stammered.

Patrick grinned. “Make no mistake about it, these were real children. Children very much like yourself. You see, what we do here is a service for society. We salvage the defective, the wrongdoers on the path of darkness. Youth, such as yourself, who require a more extreme look at the mistakes they are on the verge of making. We’re simply reenacting how each of these children’s stories ended. Showing you firsthand, the horrors that your poor decisions are steering you toward.”

Patricia approached Autumn’s lifeless body as it floated beside her. “This first girl that was in the coffin beside you, she told you the truth. She was a drug addict who killed an entire family while driving under the influence. But what she didn’t tell you—what she couldn’t have told you—was that she died in that accident too.”

Moving onto the tank beside Autumn, Patrick knocked on the glass. “Or Kerri Kreese, the other young lady that accused a teacher she didn’t like of sexually assaulting her. Her teacher, David Claflin, would go on to be beaten into a coma via an act of vigilante justice. It took him months to recover. After returning, almost miraculously, Mr. Claflin was a different man than he was when he went under. It was as if God himself brought him back to do the things that you witnessed Mr. Clay reenact in front of you.”

“And finally,” Patricia interjected, “this young man, Josh Harper. He took great joy in hurting kids. He tormented them really—very much like you do. Unfortunately, one of his victims had a little too much. He showed up with a baseball bat. But, as you might’ve guessed, Josh got a hold of it and quite literally knocked the boy’s head off his shoulders. He went on to hang himself in a correctional facility several years later.”

Patrick held out his hand, lifting a finger as he described each of the teenagers. “The addict, the liar, and the bully. All horrific traits, and, interestingly, areas that would seem to cross over into your personality, Kyle.”

Patricia placed her hand on her brother’s shoulder while continuing to address Kyle. “But now that you’ve seen the places that those paths lead, maybe you’ll think twice. The hope is that, since you’ve seen it directly, in such an intimate manner that very few have, now, you’ll realize how good you actually had it. You should feel very fortunate, Mr. Simms. You’re the beneficiary of a lesson few are afforded the opportunity to learn. A lesson that typically requires death to be the end result.”

As Kyle registered the grand reveal, his sadness quickly morphed into rage. He balled his fists and slammed them into his thighs. “You guys are fuckin’ crazy! You put me through all that for a lesson?! A fuckin’ lesson?!”

“It’s what we do,” Patrick replied with a smile. “We are a different breed of philanthropist, but philanthropists nonetheless. Cloning has been around since the mid-eighties. It didn’t just stop existing because of man’s moral and existential fears. It’s simply gone underground.”

Patrick took a few steps over to the cycloptic hulk. “Like Mr. Clay here. He’s just a mishmash of humanity. Some exaggerated features to scare the shit out of kids like you. But in reality, he just follows our outline.

“He’s sweeter than a puppy dog and ten times more obedient,” Patricia concurred.

“You’re lying, none of this makes any sense!” Kyle yelled. “If—If they’re all just clones, then how do they remember their own lives?”

“It’s a bit of a chore,” Patrick said, “but each time they die, we must re-harness their consciousness—hence the tether extraction from the Amalgamizer. When they say the eyes are the window to the soul, that isn’t just a flowery saying. The spirit lies a short distance within.”

“It took us some time to figure out,” Patricia said, “but science is all my brother and I do. We went through so many bodies searching for it, only to realize that we were looking at the wrong people.”

“What do you mean?” Kyle asked.

“I mean, people who’ve led decent lives, their souls move on, so we were literally chasing ghosts. Someone kind enough to donate their body to science wouldn’t be the type to retain their consciousness. But people like these three children, people who’ve done very bad things… well, that’s a different story.”

“That’s why we put you in the coffin, my boy,” Patrick explained. “Because, should you continue to be the bastard that you’ve become, when your time is up, you’ll remain. Waiting for the bugs. Alone inside your useless shell for all eternity. Or a really long time, at least.”

“You’re killing them over and over as a lesson?!” Kyle cried. “What kind of cruel and unusual shit is that?! How could you? Their families wouldn’t have agreed to this!”

His heart ached when he thought about what Autumn was going to be forced to repeat for as long as these twisted siblings lived on. She’d made a horrible mistake, but there was so much good inside her too. He would’ve given anything to speak with her again.

“Whether they agreed or not, I’m afraid we have to,” Patricia replied. “Better they are an example for future generations than just another corpse pointlessly rotting away in the ground.”

“We’re only explaining these mechanics as a courtesy,” Patrick explained. “So you didn’t spend more time thinking about the questions of what exactly goes on here rather than the intended message. This would all be meaningless if you get nothing from this experience—if you piss it away as you’ve done in so many other instances. So, in a way, you can make their sacrifice relevant. But that’s all up to you.”

“Like hell it is,” Kyle grumbled. His blood-spattered face was so red that he looked ready to blow a gasket.

“Well, if that isn’t enough motivation, there’s this,” Patrick said, gesturing to the fourth empty tank.

They both let out a maniacal laugh.

“What?” Kyle asked. His anger was once again replaced with fear.

“While you were incapacitated back there, Mr. Clay extracted a measure of your blood,” Patrick explained.

Patricia held up a small red vial. “Do we have your attention now?”

“We’ll begin growing your body the moment you leave.” He looked back at the empty tank, tapping his hand against the glass. “And rest assured, we’ll be watching. Should you meet a fate similar to these three, then you’ll be joining them. If you expire early, your mother has agreed to contact us. And before you hit the ground or the cremation chamber, rest assured that your consciousness will be extracted. And after that, well, you know what happens.”

“It'll be death by a thousand paper cuts. Over. And over. And over,” Patricia concurred.

Kyle shivered at the thought of reliving his deepest agonies.

“But we’re not too worried,” Patrick said, turning back to Kyle. “Since we began this program, we’ve yet to even come close to filling this tube. Hopefully, you won’t be the exception.”

“Did my mom know about this?” Kyle asked. “Did she… did she know everything that you were gonna put me through?”

“All she knew was that you needed help,” Patricia replied. “And all we told her is that we could give it to you.”

Tears found their way back onto his cheeks. “I—I just wanna see my mom.”

Patricia looked at her brother and nodded. Then she fixed her glare on Kyle. “Well then, while you take a shower, we’ll call her for you. I hope you enjoy your second chance at life. Don’t squander it, or you’ll regret it far more than the mistakes that helped you arrive at our doors.”

NIGHT AND DAY

When Mia arrived, the sun was just rising. She could only hope Kyle was prepared to parallel the giant ball of fire instead of falling further down into the darkness. She didn’t expect the Cranes to call her back so quickly, but when they explained how well things went, it was a pleasant surprise. Quite frankly, it sounded too good to be true.

When she pulled up to the gates, Kyle was already standing outside of them. He looked perfectly fine, just as intact as he was when she’d dropped him off. She’d worried herself leaving him with strangers. But there was something different about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

However, when they locked eyes, something inside her shifted. It felt monumental. Mia saw things inside Kyle’s pupils that weren’t there before.

There was care.

There was love.

There was gratefulness.

There was an anxious tenderness—a glowing excitement to see her that she’d never previously observed. It was still the same old Kyle, sure, but there was something refined about him now.

How could they—how did they fix him in just a day, Mia wondered.

The lifetime of baggage and hell, that sadly, was the first thing she’d been conditioned to associate with her son, had somehow dissolved. The comparison of Kyle’s demeanor, bodily cadence, and overall aura was like night and day.

As he hurried to the passenger side and opened the door, Mia felt something inside her that she hadn’t in some time—hope. A changed young man was sitting down in the seat beside her. Maternal instincts told her that much.

Kyle leaned in and kissed his mother on the cheek gently and hugged her tighter than ever before, like he was never going to see her again.

He exhaled deeply. All the horrible things and constant mistreatment he’d thrown her way still haunted him, but it seemed as if all those wicked ghosts had somehow been exorcised.

Tears of bliss leaked from both of their eyes as Kyle whispered into his mother’s ear, “I love you, Mom.”

THANK YOU FOR READING THE MORBID CURIOSITIES SERIES!

Is this the end? As my reader, that is solely up to you. One of the beautiful things about the Morbid Curiosities shop is, who knows how many items it holds? And even if all the space inside is eventually taken up by objects, we can always cycle them out.

I certainly have more ideas for this strange dimension that I would love to put in print. As I sit in my office right now, I have a burning urge to share them with you. They are just as disturbing as they are unorthodox. But as I said before, you, and you alone, control my career.

I want to preface this by saying that I am beyond grateful that you are willing to support my work and have purchased this series. I’m grateful for all the organic promotion that my work gets from the horror community, and in no way, shape, or form should you feel obligated to do anything past what you already do.

This next bit is really just more for awareness and for those who hope to see more stories come out of the Morbid Curiosities shop. If that’s the case, here are a few simple things that many of you already do for me with regularity that can help books reach a wider audience.

Rating or reviewing books on Amazon and Goodreads is always great. Many consumers live and die by ratings these days, and unfortunately, there are some that want to campaign against subgenres such as Extreme Horror and Splatterpunk. People who rating bomb books that they didn’t even read with single-star reviews because they don’t believe our subgenre deserves a voice. People who want to tell you what you can and can’t read. It’s already an uphill battle with these cancel campaigns, but if you’d like to help combat such groupthink, leaving a rating after each book you read is a tremendous help.

If you want to go the extra mile, creating TikTok review videos, sharing your thoughts and the cover images via social media posts, and dropping suggestions to book clubs and online horror communities such as Facebook’s Book of Horror and Splatterpunk Horror Readers groups can really help books gain traction. Feel free to tag me in anything, I’m always happy to try to respond and show my appreciation to my readers that so often go above and beyond for me.

And speaking of showing appreciation, I want to also briefly talk about AB Horror Shared Success. In early 2023, I launched this program as a means of rewarding my readers. The idea is, since I haven’t had to allocate money to advertise my work (it’s all been done organically, via the things I spoke of earlier, reviews, rating, TikToks, etc.) that the money I might’ve used on my advertising will instead be given in a lump sum to one reader each quarter.

The first AB Horror Shared Success winner was drawn randomly and was thankfully an avid reader of my work and supporter of the horror community. I was able to give Tara Losacano $500 to help her have an unexpectedly awesome month. So, to those who are sharing my work and making reviews, be on the lookout each quarter, and be sure to tag me on social media because you might be next!

Afterword

Life is a strange thing.

Despite only having a few personal experiences that I might consider classifying as paranormal, I’ve always been fascinated by the weirdness. I think there is a childish element lying dormant inside many of us—beaten down by boring workloads, 24-hour news cycles, and the mountains of utterly pointless minutia that we face every day as adults. This strange thing that, in my younger years, kept me up late at night. It was beyond magical. It generated a profound excitement in my ribcage—a feeling like no other.

Sadly, for most, the urge to explore the unknown or witness something inexplicable can get lost in the shuffle. One of the reasons I wrote Morbid Curiosities was to offer the people who miss chasing that ghost a window into the world of impossibility—to help us all remember what it’s like to be a kid again. A notion that, as I get older, I find myself going back to over and over.

When I first got the idea for Book 1: Came with the Frame I wasn’t even what I consider to be a true writer yet. While I was writing, I wasn’t doing a whole lot with it. I was yet to plant my legs firmly in the realm of literature, still in the midst of decades of dabbling with nothing to show for it.

While this period wasn’t flashy in the lightest, it was of critical importance. It set in motion a chain of events and would eventually serve as the catalyst for my transition to a full-time writing career.

I was working at a call center in Lincoln, Rhode Island. A job where, unfortunately, my creativity was almost entirely stifled. Unlike stocking shelves, working in a factory or at a truck stop—things I’d done previously—answering a constant barrage of phone calls kept my mind completely occupied. Doing hard labor sucked, but at least I could dream. I was still in control of my mind and imagination, whereas, at the call center, most days I’d have been lucky to have a second or two between calls.

Still, during those few seconds, I would jot down ideas in my notepad. Even sometimes while I was servicing a customer, I would elongate the ‘research’ required to fulfill their request in order to push out these fantastical thoughts. I know it sounds shitty, but something inside me was screaming—I just had to get that stuff out.

I suppose life was decent at that moment in time. I was still dealing with some personal demons, but that kind of stuff was normal. By that point, demons had been there for almost my entire life. I blocked it out, as usual, and tried to focus on the things I enjoyed.

I continued to dream.

But the rigors of routine were beating me down. This sad idea that I might retire working at a bank (not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I liked dreaming) had me at the bottom of a bottle more often than not.

But then, I met Joe.

Joe was just another guy in the call center. He was a really nice guy that just loved hockey, writing, and keeping a low profile. For the life of me, I don’t remember how we got to talking about writing, but somehow, we stumbled upon the subject and realized that we both shared a similar passion. It may not be exactly what you’re thinking though—we both wanted to write and make films.

Funny enough, several years before I met Joe, I had read a book called How Not to Write a Screenplay: 101 Most Common Mistakes Screenwriters Make. I had been wondering how I might be able to transcribe the ideas in my head into a cinematic format. So, I decided to teach myself.

The idea was in my head for a while, but due to relentless partying, drugs, and alcohol, I didn’t tend to focus much on writing—until I met Joe. I liken it to a gym buddy. When you get out of shape sometimes you need a hand. In my case, it was my mind that was out of shape (I was actually jacked back then believe it or not!). Sometimes it’s hard to motivate yourself to work out, but when you have someone else willing to do it with you, it makes pushing yourself just a little bit easier. Such was the case with me and writing before I got on this roll.

Joe and I collaborated on several efforts—the primary story being a feature-length film titled ‘Two Birds.’ We also wrote a few short films. One really bizarre one called ‘Bait’ and another called ‘The Black Shit.’ We even spent our entire paychecks getting cameras, lighting equipment (Chinese knockoffs of the real thing), and sound equipment, eventually recording ‘The Black Shit’ nearly in its entirety.

I look back fondly on the writing process of these scripts. The two of us just spit-balling back and forth, acting out the lines of dialogue in his spare room to see if it sounded like shit or not. I imagine his wife got tired of me being around because we were doing this stuff all the time.

During this collaboration period, we were both also working on our own screenplays too. This is when I wrote the first version of Came with the Frame. It was a bit different back then—didn’t really have any of that signature gore and depravity that my stories have become known for. It was more in the spirit of a vintage Rod Serling story.

Anyhow, I wasn’t really able to do anything with my screenplays, but they served as a great precursor to my writing career. Just being able to finish something was a tremendous accomplishment.

But the primary problem I found when I was exclusively writing screenplays was, if someone doesn’t decide to make it into a movie—which is most likely 95% of screenplays—there’s not a whole lot you can do with them afterward. They don’t generate revenue.

Eventually, Joe and I went our separate ways. He had always wanted to write deep dramas and I hope he’s still on that path because he was a very talented writer. It makes me sad that we lost touch. Even in the age of the internet, Joe was never really about all that. I always wonder if he’s doing something in film now and wish we could get together and talk about our experiences since those early days.

Maybe someday we will. I wish him only the best, he was a swell guy.

Even years after I stopped writing screenplays, Came with the Frame always felt like a neat idea. I knew it was something that I needed to get down on paper at some point. When I decided it was time to write a short series that paid homage to Rod Serling and his amazing body of work, I knew it was the perfect place for it.

When I was growing up, The Twilight Zone and Night Gallery were both huge influences on me. While I haven’t written a ton of weird or fantastical fiction, it’s something very dear to me. Just thinking about Mr. Serling discussing his ideas with a cigarette in hand while standing by a painting and setting up a story truly excites me. Which is why I felt it necessary to dedicate all three books to him. I hope that the weirdness and wisdom in his many tales will continue to be enjoyed by the small fraction of the future generations that stumble upon my work.

While the foundation for Morbid Curiosities may have been laid over a decade ago, the rest of the framework was generated rather recently.

In Book 2: The Illusion of Choice, I explore the thing that many of us probably think of first when we talk about The Twilight Zone; parallel dimensions. This was such a fun concept for me to take on.

Years ago, such a concept would have been viewed as pure science fiction. But now, such a notion is considered not only possible but probable by some of the greatest thinkers of our time.

What a fuckin’ wild and scary time to be alive.

While The Illusion of Choice deals with a character that strives for positive change, Book: 3: Cemetery Camp is the exact opposite. Our main character is going down a path that I myself nearly became entangled in. When we’re young we’re stupid. We think we’re invincible—at least I did. There were several decisions that I made in my youth that could’ve potentially ruined my future, or worse, ended my life. As I’m sure many of you can relate, my goal was to somehow encapsulate that sentiment into this final book.

Well, I hope you’ve enjoyed my Morbid Curiosities and this little trip down memory lane. I hope to revisit the shop again in the future and share more pieces of myself with you. But until next time, keep it 100% horror!

Morbid Curiosities Book 1

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Morbid Curiosities Book 2

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AB Horror Exclusives

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The Obituaries

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Acknowledgments

Huge thanks to Kristopher Triana for helping me edit this book. Great guy—LOVES HOOTERS. Also, many thanks to the people who constantly read and promote my work on social media and elsewhere. There are too many of you to name individually, but I want each of you to know I truly appreciate you. Thanks to Daniel J. Volpe, Carver Pike, Rowland Bercy Jr., and Edward Lee. Huge thanks to all the other awesome people in the horror community. I look forward to seeing our strange genre continue to rise and provide people with new nightmares.

About the Author

Aron Beauregard, for the record, now devours a daily feast of nuggets and nuggets only. Nuggets of knowledge spewed forth by concerned citizens. The men and women who are kind enough to decide how everyone should think. The men and women who are brave enough to voice their opinions on such important issues such as stories of the make-believe. He is learning more each day about how to program himself to only write nice things, kiss ass, and craft countless apologies for being himself. So much so that he has crafted specific apologies for each person offended or outraged by his work. If any such person reading this feels they are due such an apology, said apologies can be located up your ass and around the corner.

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One last weird thing…

CEMETERY CAMP LOST ARTWORK