The Dripping Killer: A Real-Life Sweeney Todd Story – CrimeFeed

•November 20, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Crime and killers, crime and killers, real killer based on fiction based on a real killer?


18 The Woods – Kevin and Jesse (1985) by LV Gaudet

•November 18, 2017 • Leave a Comment


“Where’s the comic book?” Jesse is standing in the living room, staring at the floor, now devoid of one comic book featuring The Thing in epic battle with a green multi-armed monster on the cover.

Kevin stops. “What are you talking about?” He pauses, and then thoughtlessly mutters, “Mom must have picked it up.” He knows even as he says it that it’s impossible.

“The comic. It was here. When we went out to play, before-,” Jesse’s voice trails off. He needs a moment to collect himself. “Every time we came back in, it was here. Now it’s gone.”

Kevin just stares at the floor for a long moment.

Finally, he speaks.

“You’re right. It changed. Like the snow that one time. It changed.”

He feels the pressure mounting.  He’s the big brother, the man of the house in their father’s absence.  He has never hated that being a thing more than he does right now at this moment.

“I’m too bloody young to be the man of the house,” Kevin thinks. He wants to think the thought in stronger language, but he’s afraid their mother would somehow know. She doesn’t approve of that kind of language.

He has to get them out of this somehow.

“First, we are going to eat breakfast. A man can’t operate on an empty stomach.  Then we have to find a way out of here.”

Jesse just stands numbly staring at the empty floor where his comic book should be.

Kevin goes into the kitchen and after moment Jesse follows, not wanting to be left alone.

“What do you want to eat?” Kevin asks.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’m not either, but we have to eat something.” It hits Kevin as a surprise.  With what little they have eaten, he should be starving.

The thought comes, unwanted.  “Are we dead?”

“No, that’s stupid,” he decides.  “If we are dead we wouldn’t know something’s wrong.  We wouldn’t be trying to get out.”

“We have to eat something.”

Kevin opens the fridge and looks at the contents, deciding not to trust anything there.

“Cereal it is, and dry. No bad guys.”

He finds a generic cereal, featuring his own favourite characters when he was Jesse’ age, Snap, Crackle, and Pop, and pours them each a bowl.

“I don’t want cereal,” Jesse complains, more from a lack of appetite than not wanting cereal.

“Just eat it.”

They eat their dry cereal, crunching in silence.

When they are finished, Kevin puts the bowls in the sink.  He stops, turning to stare at the table with a strange look.  The table sits quietly set for dinner for four with plates, cutlery, and glasses carefully set out. A few stray rice crisps sit next to where Jessie’s bowl was while they ate.

“Jesse,” he pauses, speaking slowly, “do you remember what we did with our bowls the last time?”

Preoccupied with looking around, Jessie shrugs. “Put them in the sink?”

“We left them on the table.” Kevin looks confused. “I don’t remember putting them away. We were so tired. We went to bed.”

He turns to Jessie.  “I think we left them on the table.”

Jessie stops and looks at the table.  “Where are they?”

“I-I think someone else is here.”  Kevin’s face is pale and waxy.

Jessie blinks at him, trying to digest it.

“Y-you mean w-we’re not alone?”  All the color drains from Jessie’s face and Kevin is sure he’s going to faint. He takes a step forward to catch him, but Jessie manages to stay on his feet.

“I don’t know,” Kevin admits. “I just don’t remember putting our bowls and spoons away. But, they are gone now.”

Jessie is still trying to digest the idea.  “If-if someone else is here, I mean, if we aren’t alone, that would be good, right Kevin?”

He turns to Kevin for reassurance.  “Right Kevin?”

“I don’t know.”  Kevin just stares at the table blankly.

“I mean,” Jessie continues, “they could help us, right?”

Kevin turns to him.  “Maybe.”

The doubt in his eyes scares Jessie even more.

“Or they could hurt us,” Jessie finishes.

“Maybe we should be careful, just to be safe,” Kevin says.

Jessie swallows hard.  “If-if there is someone else here, we would have seen them. Right, Kevin? We would have seen them.  If we can’t go nowhere, neither can they, right?  We have just the house, the yard, and the woods.  That’s all they would have too.  We’d have seen them.  Right?”

“Maybe.”  Kevin hopes Jessie is right.  He’s scared he could be wrong.  “We’ll just be careful, just in case.  What were you looking for?”

“My comic,” Jessie blushes.

Kevin thinks about it, his expression serious.  This is serious business.  “Good thinking,” he nods.  “If we find out what happened to your comic, maybe we’ll learn something about what’s going on here. Let’s go look for that comic.”

Jessie follows him as they methodically search the house for the book. He feels like finding the comic will give him some small comfort. He needs to find it. He imagines the Hulk smashing through whatever is keeping them trapped here, letting them finally go home.  “Home for real, not this fake copy of home that seems just a little bit dull, a little bit off.”  The comic is his link to his real home.

“What did you say?” Kevin asks, stopping his search of Jesse’s room.

“Nothing,” Jesse mumbles.

“Let’s keep looking.”

They continue their exhaustive search of the house, finally abandoning it as children will do and plopping themselves on the couch.  The search was as thorough as would be expected of two boys living in a state of panic.

“The comic isn’t here,” Kevin says.

“I don’t get it,” Jessie says. “How can the comic book leave and we can’t?”

Kevin looks at him, sees the loss and desperation, the abandonment of hope creeping into his eyes.  He has to do something.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?” Jessie asks.

“We are going to find the way out of here.”


“I don’t know!” Kevin wants to scream.

“Let’s start by testing the perimeter,” he says instead.  “We know that every time we try to leave, we somehow get zapped back into the woods.  We haven’t tried sending anything else through.  Come on, I have an idea.”

They put on their coats and boots, Jessie following Kevin outside with a doubtful frown.

Outside, Kevin looks around.  He walks to the edge of the woods, thinking to grab a stick.  He won’t find any on the ground with the snow.  He looks up at the tree bordering the back yard.  He’ll have to break a branch off a tree.  He steps up to the nearest tree, reaching up and pulling on a branch.

“Kevin! No!” Jessie cries, running forward and grabbing him, tugging at him to pull him back.

“What, Jessie?”

“Not in the woods,” Jessie hisses, tugging on him harder.

Realizing what he had done, Kevin looks at the trees to either side of him.  He had stepped across the border into the woods.  He lets Jessie pull him away.

“Don’t break it off the trees,” Jessie whispers, “they might get mad.”

“They’re just trees. They don’t feel.”

Jessie shakes his head emphatically, eying the trees as if worried about talking in front of them.  He leans in close, whispering in Kevin’s ear.

“I think they’re already mad and that’s why they’re doing this.”

Kevin looks at the trees doubtfully.  They are just trees, but what if?

“I don’t think it’s the trees.  I think it’s something else, something in the woods.”

He looks around the yard.  “We’ll find something else.”

“What are we looking for?”

“Something long we can poke through the edge of the yard to the other side.  Stuff we can throw across.  I want to see what happens.”

Jessie’s face lights up.  “I know what we can use!”  He takes off, running across the yard back to the house.  Kevin follows.


Available on Kindle and in paperback on Amazon:

Garden Grove Cover - McNally - front cover

The McAllister Series

where the bodies are


Where the Bodies Are

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000035_00023]


The McAllister Farm

HuntingMichaelUnderwood - final - media copy


Hunting Michael Underwood




And  for the teens and middle years kids who like middle years/teen drama and monsters, a fantasy psychological thriller.


Garden Grove: 4 Sick Workers and Senility – The Hospital by LV Gaudet

•November 17, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Garden Grove Cover - McNally - front cover

At the hospital, men groaned in pain and thrashed on gurneys, rolling feebly to vomit furiously into too small jellybean shaped hospital blue plastic dishes.  Even more disconcerting were the ones who just lay silently suffering as if they had given up, their eyes looking haunted in their emotionless faces.

They all looked like hell.

The men in intensive care looked even worse.  Their ashy pallor left their skin grey looking and their blue-tinged lips were not a good sign.  Hospital staff worked on them furiously, their anxiety making the seriousness of their conditions clear.

Dave was one of the lucky ones.  He had mostly stood there holding the tray of pastries and thinking how strange it was that this little old lady brought them baking out of the blue, while the other guys eagerly grabbed handfuls of the delicate little pastries and wolfed them down with delighted noises of enjoyment.

Dave only managed to have one of the fluffy little treats, and had just taken a bite of it when the first men started to stagger weakly and vomit violently.

He had quickly spat it out before he had a chance to swallow.

Not knowing what they were poisoned with, the hospital staff had made a best guess and gave those who could manage to keep it down a foul tasting drink they hoped would counteract the poison or at least minimize the damage to their stomachs.

Dave looked around at the guys around him, his crew and friends, weakly trying to sit up, to roll over and vomit some more.  They were so sick; worse than that time some of the guys had food poisoning after eating at that questionable little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, and that was pretty bad.

He wondered if some of the sicker guys would make it.

Poisoned!  He could not believe it.  The doctors were sure it was some kind of commercial poison, not just a simple food poisoning.

But they did not know what poison or why.

Was it an accident?  Had the old woman just grabbed the wrong container of something, making a dangerous error because of her aging eyes or mind?  She wouldn’t have poisoned them on purpose, would she?

“Nah,” he thought.  “It had to just be a mistake.”



Available on Kindle and in paperback on Amazon:

Garden Grove Cover - McNally - front cover

The McAllister Series

where the bodies are


Where the Bodies Are

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000035_00023]


The McAllister Farm

HuntingMichaelUnderwood - final - media copy


Hunting Michael Underwood




And  for the teens and middle years kids who like middle years/teen drama and monsters, a fantasy psychological thriller.

17 The Woods – Henry and June (1985) by LV Gaudet

•November 11, 2017 • Leave a Comment


June blinks her eyes.  They feel grainy, dry, and sore.  The room is fuzzy and she feels groggy, like she had stayed up much too late and drank much too much wine.  The only thing missing is the nausea and slicing migraine of a hangover.  She wants to move, but every muscle is tight and sore.

“I must have not moved all night.” She realizes that’s how she feels, like she slept like a sodden lump of detritus, sore because she never moved, never turned over or shifted position, slept like the dead.

The next thought in her mind makes her feel that nausea that is missing.  Her stomach swoons with it.  It comes slithering back into her mind, unpleasant. It makes her feel weak and a rush of disorientation, the fading memory of a most horrible dream that refuses to fade fast enough. She dreamt her boys went out to play and never came back. She blinks back the tears. Her muscles are stiff.

“It’s only a dream Junie girl, get a hold of yourself.” Lying on her side facing the edge of the bed, she stretches out her legs, feeling the tight pinch of her muscles on the verge of going into painful leg cramps, and relaxes them gingerly.  She tries flexing her feet to stretch the muscles, but the movement almost brings on the muscle spasms.

A burning hollowness washes through her and the room would spin and turn over if she were not already lying down.

A low keening moan begins to slip from her lips and she clenches them, cutting the sound off.

“It is real. My boys, Kevin, Jesse.” Her face twists in a grimace of pain and she wishes it would wash her away to nothing. She buries her face in the pillow, fighting through the sorrow and loss gripping her, fighting to control it, concentrating on her breathing and trying to make her body feel the bed and the sheets again. She tries to push the thought away. “My boys… No, they will come home.”

Finally feeling some control, she reaches behind her, feeling for Henry beside her to find his side of the bed empty and cool.

June rolls over and looks. Emptiness threatens to swallow her up again. She needs him more than she needs anything right now. She fights back a sob. She doesn’t think he came to bed at all.

She gets up and quietly creeps to the living room to find him sleeping on the couch. He looks so exhausted. She sees that he had stayed up to clean up the trays and bowls and pans of food brought, and the mess left by the searchers. She knows he stayed near the door so he would hear it open and wake if the boys came home.

She bites her fist to stifle a sob.

Quietly, she goes to the kitchen to make coffee. June looks out the window while she is filling the coffee pot at the sink and sees people approaching the house. She glances to the open doorway to the living room and back out the window. She hurriedly puts down the coffee pot and rushes to meet them at the door.

Opening the door before they get there, she has her finger to her lips, motioning them to be quiet, and waves them in. Inside, she points to Henry sleeping on the couch, puts her finger to her lips again, and waves them to follow her to the kitchen. Quietly, they take their shoes off and follow.

June puts the coffee on and they hover around the far end of the kitchen, away from the open doorway, talking in hushed whispers.

Henry wakes up, thinks he hears whispering voices, and wants to dismiss it. He feels disconnected. He had dreamt the boys were there. They were in the yard playing, and came in the house, running through the house and calling for their mother. He thought it was real for just a heartbeat as he swum up through sleep to consciousness. If it was real, it would have woken him up. The house is silent. Then he hears it again, the faintest whisper of voices. He is sure it’s just his imagination.

Wearily, he gets up and stumbles to the kitchen, hoping June is still sleeping. She needs it. He’ll have coffee made for her when she wakes up. He walks in to find June and some people whispering in the kitchen.

June is tired but alert. She looks at him and gives him a worried smile. He smiles back, his grimace filled with the same dread as hers.

“More will be coming soon to start searching for the boys again.”

June pours Henry a coffee and brings it to the table. She sets it down and looks up at him. “We need to start warming the food to feed them.”

Henry looks into her eyes, sharing her pain. “We’ll find them Junie.”

She nods quickly and looks away, blinking back tears. She wavers on her feet and he puts a steadying arm around her, leaning in and putting his head against hers. “It’s okay Junie, I can be strong enough for both of us,” he whispers into her hair. It is the only brief interlude of intimacy they will be allowed.

He leads her down into one of the chairs and sits in the other, holding her hand, their hands resting on the table.

There is a knock at the door. The first of the searchers have arrived. Before long, the house is filled once again with people. Search groups are organized and sent out with flyers and knocking on doors, going door to door to alert their little world of the two missing boys whom everyone has already heard about. Searchers tromp through the woods, struggling through the deeper snow there, and lines spread across the fields, walking amateurishly too far apart. They haven’t enough searchers to stretch as far as they do and walk a proper distance apart. They could easily miss the body of a child lying beneath the snow still covering the fields.

The morning stretches to noon and Henry and June helplessly watch a parade of volunteers come and go, giving them their hollow sympathy and leaving glad they are not the grieving couple whose sons are missing. They can see it in their eyes that cloud over and never quite meet theirs.

June is kept mindlessly busy warming food to feed the volunteers and cleaning up the endless mess they leave behind.

The same women who had hovered over her the day before are back, clinging to her and fluttering about her like a bunch of clumsy butterflies, their lips constantly flapping like their wings.

“Do they never shut up?” June thinks as they prattle on endlessly with their stories and gossip. They are doing their best to try to comfort and offer her support. There is no comfort for the mother whose children are missing with no sign of their fate or whereabouts.

Noon wears on through the afternoon, and with it, everyone’s eagerness wanes into dreary exhaustion.


Available on Kindle and in paperback on Amazon:

Garden Grove Cover - McNally - front cover

The McAllister Series

where the bodies are


Where the Bodies Are

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000035_00023]


The McAllister Farm

HuntingMichaelUnderwood - final - media copy


Hunting Michael Underwood




And  for the teens and middle years kids who like middle years/teen drama and monsters, a fantasy psychological thriller.


Garden Grove: 4 Sick Workers and Senility – Bruce Copeland’s Office by LV Gaudet

•November 10, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Garden Grove Cover - McNally - front cover

Stanley Rutthers stood in his boss’s office nervously gripping his hard hat in his hands.

His boss, Bruce Copeland, sat at his desk looking anything but relaxed.

“What do you mean they’re all sick?” Copeland demanded.

“The whole damned crew had to be taken to the hospital,” Stanley said.  “They all can’t stop puking.  Most of them can’t even stand up.  Some of them are in intensive care.”

“What the hell?” Copeland almost yelled it.

“Looks like some kind of poisoning,” Stanley said.

“Poison?  What the hell’d poison an entire crew?” Copeland demanded.

“Not what,” Stanley said, “who.”

Copeland just stared at him, dumbstruck.

“Dave said a little old lady gave them pastries just before they all started getting sick,” Stanley said.

Copeland just couldn’t believe it.

“First the site and equipment keeps getting vandalized,” Copeland said angrily.  “Then someone messes around with our plans, and I still think it was that damned Lezkowitz that somehow did it, he’d do anything to steal a job off me for his own company.  Then we dig up some damned old skull.  And now we have little old ladies poisoning an entire work crew?  Shit, damn, and mother!  What the hell is going on here?”

Stanley just shook his head.  He was mystified.

“How long are they going to be off?” Copeland asked.  “Any idea?”

“A few of them didn’t eat too many, maybe a couple of days.  Others-,” Stanley shrugged, “I just don’t know.  A lot of the guys are in pretty bad shape.”


Copeland’s mind was running fast, thinking hard.  Somehow, this had to work out.

“Can we find guys from anywhere else?” Copeland asked.  “Guys off injured?  Pull some from other jobs?”

Stanley shook his head.

“Best we can do is pull a crew off the Anc-Chor project.”

“No,” Copeland said.  “That won’t do.  We can’t do that.  That project is already behind with all the time wasted trying to fit things together and redoing them because of the project owner’s secretiveness.”

The Anc-Chor project is another of Copeland and Howe Construction, Excavation and Land Development’s projects, and one that Bruce Copeland often wished he had lost the tender on despite the profits it was making for his company.  The Anc-Chor Corporation is run by a single man, the majority shareholder and CEO, Mr. Chornelhus.  The Anc-Chor project is a top-secret project that appears to be some large laboratory facility, although Mr. Chornelhus is completely secretive about the purpose of the facility being built.

He muttered something unintelligible to himself.

“Guess we’ll have to hire a new green crew,” Copeland sighed.

He was not happy about this.  An untrained green crew would work much slower and make more mistakes, slowing down the already behind Garden Grove project even more.

“I think so,” Stanley agreed. “It’ll put us even further behind on the Garden Grove project.”

“We have no choice.”

“No, we don’t.”




Available on Kindle and in paperback on Amazon:

Garden Grove Cover - McNally - front cover

The McAllister Series

where the bodies are


Where the Bodies Are

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000035_00023]


The McAllister Farm

HuntingMichaelUnderwood - final - media copy


Hunting Michael Underwood




And  for the teens and middle years kids who like middle years/teen drama and monsters, a fantasy psychological thriller.

10 Bookish Graveyards To Visit During Your Literary Travels | Bustle

•November 6, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Graveyards, ghouls, and the ghost gauntlet … finding inspiration for stories that haunt your dreams.

Listen To The Spookiest Sounds Ever Detected In Space

•November 5, 2017 • Leave a Comment

%d bloggers like this: