The real and imaginative adventures of Dennis Spielman

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Bleeding Fear - The Blue Hotel - art by Janine De Guzman at Design Pickle

Bleeding Fear

In a fantasy world where everyone gains a power of light on their 17th birthday, a group of adventurers searches for a place to rest for the night after destroying a laboratory performing harmful experiments on people. The boutique treehouse-style hotel they do find has some secrets of its own. 


“For the advancement of Light!”

The guard thrust his spear at Kilyn. The glowing yellow tip glazed against Kilyn’s bare purple arm. She screamed from the searing pain, losing her concentration and making the five-foot spider she created out of light disappear. She wanted to rip off the guard’s head for making her lose her familiar, for hurting her, for all of the innocent youth they killed. She bit her lower lip, pushing away the pain in preparation to summon another.

“Foxbeam, get down!” Div shouted.

Kilyn dropped to the ground, and then an arrow pierced through the guard. The guard collapsed, and the arrow Div fired reappeared in his bow. 

Kilyn stood back up with a hand covering the wound. “Thanks, Div.”

“It’s time to leave, team,” Finnea Brightwish ordered as she and Ash raced into the laboratory.

“Leave now?” Kilyn asked. “Didn’t you find any of the missing people?”

“They’re all dead….” Ash answered in somber. “I couldn’t save any of them.”

“And I’ve set explosives to make sure whatever experiments they were doing won’t continue,” Finnea added. “So, we need to leave, now. Div, take point.”

Div nodded and led the way out of the laboratory into the underground cave hallway. Chucks of blue rocks broke away from the impact of the explosives detonating in the distance. The group picked up their pace, leaping over the guards they killed earlier as they ran up the rocky stairs to the outside. The explosions concluded. 

Kilyn took a deep breath of the night air as she looked back. She thought the cave entrance was obscure when they first found the location, but with the rumble covering the way, no one would even think there was once a tunnel system there.

Ash Glowspring collapsed to her knees, exhausted.

“Woah, there.” Div rushed to her side and helped her to her feet. Ash was the shortest of the group while Div was the second tallest, so Div bent his knees to allow Ash to put an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s get you to the wagon.”

“What now, boss?” Kilyn asked.

“Take a moment to rest,” Finnea replied. “I’ll send out a guide bug to search for someplace to rest for the night.” Kilyn nodded and started to walk toward the grassy field when Finnea added, “Good job.”

“Doesn’t feel like a good job,” Kilyn mumbled to herself.

As Finnea, Ash, and Div returned to the wagon they hid, Kilyn wondered deep into the field. Satisfied with the spot, Kilyn put her hands behind her head for a makeshift pillow as she gazed upon Nilnora’s two moons. Since a guard burned her jacket during the quest, she made do with the wild grass ticking against her purple skin.

With the nearest village being a day’s ride away, there was zero light pollution to obscure her view of the night sky. She focused on the sky, pushing out the flashbacks of people drained of their lives, chained against the clean white porcelain diamond tiled walls. Combined with the relaxing scent from the shade-lamp flowers, she finally allowed herself a deep, unwinding sigh of relief after several minutes.

“We did everything we could,” Kilyn told herself. 

A glowing yellow arrow whizzed in front of her face, exploding into a tiny sparkle of crackling lights upon hitting a tree.

Not in any hurry, Kilyn sat up and glared at Div. “Was that really necessary?”

Div flicked his bow made of light, causing his weapon to collapse into nothing.

“Of course,” Div Ironfire winked. “The team’s found a hotel to stay for the night.”

Kilyn stood up, brushing off her pants along the way. Div walked back to the main road, with Kilyn jogging to catch up. I will kill for a bed, Kilyn thought.

“I have killed for a bed,” she corrected.

Finnea fidgeted with the rope connecting to the lizard responsible for pulling their caravan as Kilyn and Div jumped aboard. Their arrival prompted a golden bug to fly out of Finnea’s long red hair, hovering over the lizards. 

“Please tell me the guide bug found a proper hotel and not a tavern with some beds,” Kilyn asked as she sat next to Finnea.

Finnea smiled. “Count yourself lucky then. They found a boutique hotel, built into trees.”

“Fancy, fancy,” Div repeated. “I think we deserve some pampering.”

“Yes, you all worked hard, and it’s only best for us to get some proper rest,” Finnea said.

“Thank you.” Kilyn lifted the curtain into the caravan then closed it. “I take it Ash is asleep.”

“Healing all of our sorry asses took a lot out of her,” Finnea said as she whipped the ropes for the lizard to start. The guide bug flew in front of them, leading the way to the hotel. “I can’t remember the last time we drained her that badly.”

“What happened in that laboratory was rough,” Div mumbled while watching the sides of the dirt road.

Finnea slouched into the padded seat. “Still, the village elders will be pleased no one else is getting kidnapped.”

“Yeah, about that,” Kilyn said, sitting up. “I noticed some of the victims didn’t look like they belonged to the village.”

“I noticed that too,” Finnea said. 

“What do you think was going on there?” Kilyn asked the group.

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” Div answered first, still keeping watch. “They didn’t leave anyone alive, and we didn’t leave any of the guards alive.”

Finnea shrugged. “Most of the people there were around 17-years-old. I wonder if they were experimenting on them in connection with the Ritual of Emerging Light. Maybe finding rare abilities, forcing new ones, or changing the process with chemicals? I don’t know. I just burned everything.”

Kilyn reflected on her Ritual of Emerging Light. Before the sunrise of one’s 17th birthday, Nilnorians would bask in the light from their favorite spot or a place of personal significance. They would stay there without food or drink until nightfall. Upon completion, the sun would bestow a power of light to aid them in adulthood. Some would discover their gift in a few days while others–albeit extremely few–never learned.

“Say, where did you all bask for your Ritual of Emerging Light?” Kilyn asked.

“My favorite boulder that I would play around at when I was a kid,” Finnea answered. “What about you, Div?”

“On a tree stomp that my great-grandparents first cut to build their house,” Div replied without breaking his guard.

“Mine was a patch of flowers,” Kilyn said. “Anyone know Ash’s spot?”

“I think she mentioned she basked in a river,” Finnea said as the lizard turned down a side road. The guide bug flew a circle around Finnea’s head and went back to work. “We’re almost there.”

The Blue Motel was more grandiose than Kilyn expected. Dozens of small cabins were built into a colossal tree, forming a network of treehouses. Blue crystals covered each building, enhancing the lights from the lamps.

Kilyn’s jaw dropped. “Remind me never to doubt your guide bug.”

Finnea parked their vehicle. She stepped down to hitch the wagon to a post while Div opened the curtain to caravan and fired one of his arrow’s inside. Ash bolted awake, cursing at Div as he laughed and hopped off.

Kilyn opened the curtain for Ash to see. “Ash, you got to check out this hotel.”

Ash grumbled as she crawled up to the curtain. “Wow. Okay, I will only half kill you, Div, for that stunt.”

“Got to catch me first, little one.” Div twirled his bow around his arm before making his weapon disappear.

Finnea threw a sack of coins at Div’s head. “Pay for the room.”

Div rubbed his face as he picked up the sack. “Got it, boss.”

Kilyn helped Ash with everyone’s bags while Finnea cooed the lizard goodnight. The freelancers were within a year of each, with their leader, Finnea, the oldest and tallest of the four. 

As Kilyn pulled out the last trunk, Div returned with spinning the room key around his finger.

“Got us a cabin where we each get our own room.” Div tossed the key to Finnea, which she caught. “Our cabin’s name is Dawn, which we can find on the third level.”

“Any issues?” Finnea asked.

Div shrugged. “I may have bragged to the owner–John Bluelight was his name–that we were famous adventurers. Also, I may have entertained his kid for a moment as he was running around the lobby pretending to be a monster. He seemed to be quite the prankster.”

“So you two are best friends?” Kilyn teased.

Div chuckled as a reply and picked up their weapons crate. He led the way to their cabin on the third level. Upon entering, they dropped their luggage in the entryway and then checked out their place.

Ash picked the first room and collapsed on the bed. “This is the softest bed I have ever touched.”

The rest claimed their rooms. Kilyn sat on the bed, feeling the same sentiments as Ash. 

A hand gripped her ankle. She screamed. She kicked, flinging a small beast with a green scrunched face toward the door. Before the monster could move, Kilyn used her fingers to conjure one of her constellation creatures. A four-legged familiar with a body outline of stars, like a constellation in the night sky, sprouted from her fingers. The starry wolf pinned the monster down.

The rest of the team appeared in the doorway in response.

Div laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Kilyn shouted angrily.

Div kneed down and removed the mask, revealing the same child who played with him in the lobby. “I see you all met Mark.”

“It was only a prank,” the child defended. 

Kilyn disappeared her familiar. “You’re lucky you’re alive. Now, beat it.”

Finnea walked with Mark Bluelight to ensure he left while the others returned to their rooms. She returned to Kilyn’s room, knocking as she entered. 

“Everything okay, Kilyn?”

“Yeah, everything is fine.” Kilyn removed her socks. “That last job just got me all twisted.”

Finnea sat next to Kilyn on the bed. “It’s over. They won’t be hurting anyone else.”

Ash screamed and yelled for help.

Finnea bolted up as Ash’s cries were quickly muted. She paused for a moment, waiting for more or a never mind. “Something is wrong.”

“You don’t think it’s just that kid again?” Kilyn asked.

“I feel like we’re supposed to think it was the kid to make us ignore it.”

Kilyn put back on her shoes and followed Finnea to Ash’s room. Both Ash and her bed were gone.

Div popped in from behind and stood where the bed once was. “There was a bed here, right?”

“Definitely,” Finnea replied. She started to feel along the wall. “There must be some sort of rotation mechanism here.”

Div and Kilyn joined in the search for the trigger. Div pressed a plank on the floorboard that was a shade darker than the rest. The wall and floor spun around, putting them behind. The hidden room was a mirrored copy of their cabin, with three additional mechanical rotations, one for each bedroom.

Div armed his bow and arrow and approached the metal chute in the center. “I’m going in after her.”

“I should go get my guide bug and send it first,” Finnea said.

“No time,” Div said as he jumped.

Finnea grumbled and followed him. Kilyn scanned the room one last time and joined them. Her hair flew behind her as she slid down faster than any fun slide. A few seconds later, her descent ended on a comfortable foam block. A robust and chlorine-like smell overwhelmed her nostrils for a moment. Div and Finnea had their weapons pointed at a man in a black robe on the other end of the room next to Ash. Beside the man was the child who scared her earlier, Mark. Ash was unconscious with her arms chained above her head.

“Shadow of a chance you took with that chute,” the stranger commented.

“I knew it had to be safe enough to move people around without them getting hurt,” Div said. “Now, John, since you’re in the hospitality industry, I think you’ll let our friend go. After all, you don’t want us to leave a bad review of your hotel. Besides, it’s three against one.”

“Hey, what about me?” the kid cried.

“You don’t count, Mark,” Div said. “You’re not even of age yet.”

Mark scoffed and pulled out a pair of dangers from behind. “We’ll see about that.”

The daggers pulsed with light, but the kid wasn’t old enough to have been gifted with the power of light. 

“How the…” Finnea mumbled. 

“Hey, team,” Kilyn interrupted, but only loud enough for them to hear. “This place looks exactly like the laboratory we destroyed.”

Finnea glanced around at the white diamond-tiled walls. “By the light, you’re right.”

“What kind of operation do you got here?” Div shouted.

“There is so much about the Ritual of Emerging Light that we don’t know,” John explained. “We take the process and powers for granted, never wondering why or how. Did you know you can take someone’s power by bleeding it out of them under a moment of extreme fear? I call the process Bleeding Fear, and Mark here. Let’s just say you should count him as at least seven people.”

Mark leaped forward at the trio. Div fired an arrow, but Mark vanished, and the arrow hit the wall. Div fell to his knees in a scream as a dagger pierced him in the back. Mark revealed himself long enough to stick his tongue out at Finnea.

“So much for being friends,” Div grumbled as he stood.

Kilyn pushed everyone down, dodging a whip of yellow lightning from John. Finnea flung one of her special fire grenades as a counter-attack, but Mark appeared in time to create a bat of light and returned the grenade. Div fired an arrow at the grenade, destroying it before hurting them.

“Time for our special clean-out move,” Finnea ordered.

“But what about Ash?” Kilyn asked.

“She’ll survive,” Finnea said as she pulled out several grenades.

Kilyn nodded to go ahead. Finnea rolled a dozen grenades on the floor in every direction, filling the room. Div pointed an arrow directly above them and fired at the ceiling. Just as the bolt left, Kilyn finished conjuring a spider creature that covered them as they all huddled down together. Upon hitting the ceiling, Div’s arrow split into dozens as the grenades exploded. 

As the smoke dissipated, Kilyn vanished her conjuring. She rushed to Ash’s aid while Div aimed his arrow around the room, searching for John and Mark Bluelight. Except for some tattered and chard clothes, Ash was uninjured as Finnea promised.

Div lowered his bow. “Where in the shadows are they?”

Kilyn lifted a fallen bookcase. “Found John, but no sign of the kid.”

“What did I miss?” Ash’s eyes fluttered open.

“Just that this hotel is a getting a negative review,” Div said as he searched through the cabinets.

In a more serious tone, Kilyn explained as she searched for a way to unlock the chains, “You were kidnapped by the person leading the experiments of the lab we destroyed earlier.”

“I thought we cleared that place of anyone responsible,” Ash said.

“Me too.” Kilyn summoned a giant crab that used its pinchers to cut the chains and then made the conjuring disappear. “Can you walk?”

“Yes, I’m good.”

“What will we tell the client about John and Mark?” Div asked everyone.

Finnea stopped her search. “I don’t think anyone will believe us about Mark, but we’ll tell them about The Blue Hotel and John. This does explain the other victims we were talking about earlier. They must’ve been guests.”

Div nodded. “Sounds good to me. Let’s finish our search, blow this place up, and sleep for days.”

Finnea chuckled. “Agreed.”


Bleeding Fear - The Blue Hotel - art by Janine De Guzman at Design Pickle

Bleeding Fear is a complete overhaul of a short story that I wrote in my teenage days where the characters were based on some of my high school friends. Similar to this story, the original followed a group who destroyed an evil lab and unknowingly stay a hotel connected to that lab. I took the retelling in a hard fantasy direction. For my supporters on Patreon, I shared the original there (amateur and all).

I think one could consider Bleeding Fear my first strict fantasy story if fantasy is defined as having magic, lack of technology, and connection to other planets. This was a fun world to write! I spent a few days brainstorming how the world works.

Although the planet Nilnora and this story is part of my 16th Phoenix Universe, the world isn’t connected to Earth or the Five Following Planets, but the end-timers have visited Nilnora. You may have noticed the Nilnorians do look like Modva.

Huge thanks to Janine De Guzman for bringing the Blue Hotel building to life! She said this was one of her favorite pieces as she loves to draw fantasy scenes.

Thank you for reading and happy adventures!

Snow Shovel Inc.

In 1992, two nine-year-old boys have an adventure filled day saving the planet, shoveling snow, and catching a criminal.


Aaron spun the steering wheel hard to the right, leaning his whole body into the evasive maneuver. “Prepare the torpedo, Lieutenant Saxton!”

Sam matched Aaron’s body movement and leaned to the right as well. “Aye, aye, Captain!” He pulled on a faded red plunger on the dashboard that always made him think he was shooting a ball on a pinball machine. “Torpedo armed!”

Aaron narrowed his eyes and stared at the snow falling on the empty road like a cowboy about to duel. In his gruffest voice, he turned to Sam and said, “We have to remain vigilant.”

Sam nodded and rubbed his hands over the arms of his winter jacket. “The last car we saw over an hour ago.”

Aaron pulled on the gear shift arm to his right. “Which we blew up and saved the world!”

“I’m getting hungry,” Sam said. “Maybe we should take a break?”

“Hold on!” Aaron pointed at a car down the road. The car was nearing the bridge’s underpass and about to turn the corner into their territory. “Enemy sighted!”

Sam sat up. “Ready for action!”

“Fire!”

Sam pushed button and after button, firing torpedos, missiles, lasers, and every weapon available at the enemy vehicle. At the same time, Aaron drove, dodging the enemy’s counterattacks. As Sam fired each gun, he made matching sound effects as Aaron rattled off system status updates. The enemy car drove past them, undamaged from their attacks because the buttons on the broken down 18-wheeler truck did nothing.

The two nine-year-boys high-fived each other.

“Enemy destroyed. Mission accomplished.” Aaron pretended to park the truck. “Now, let’s go see what my grandma has to eat.”

Aaron and Sam shuffled out of the truck, watching their footing and keeping a tight grip on the various handles as they climbed out. The truck’s wheels were taller than them, prompting them a while back to install some concrete blocks below to get in and out easier. They ran past the automotive repair shop where the broken-down truck lived and headed straight to Aaron’s grandmother’s house next door.

“Where’s Margie?” Sam asked, not seeing her car in the driveway.

Aaron shrugged. “I think she’s working. She should be home soon.”

Margie’s house partly hung over the Hoquiam River. The house was technically not under the traffic bridge but close enough for the boys to describe the place as being under a bridge. During the summer and low tides, the two would explore along the river’s shore, looking for treasure, only finding trash. Sometimes they found old boards and tires, which they would drag to their fort in the woods south of them.

Sam and Aaron stepped on the deck to enter the house through the kitchen, and Sam noticed several large folded cardboard boxes against the house.

“Wow, look at all of the boxes.” Sam held up an enormous box. “I bet I could put you this one.”

Aaron looked at the box. “Yeah, you could. I could pop out of this and scare my grandma.”

Sam laughed. “Let’s do it. But when you pop out, you should hug her, so we don’t give her a heart attack.”

Aaron nodded. “That’s a good idea. We should hurry because she will be home any minute.”

Sam unfolded the box, and Aaron climbed inside. The two giggled as Sam closed the box, sealing Aaron inside. Sam agreed to keep watch while Aaron waited. Several minutes passed, and still no sign of Margie. The boys talked about how clever they were and how funny this prank would be. The two also discussed some ideas for what they could do with the other boxes. Sam suggested making pinball machines, which Aaron supported. Aaron enjoyed the various games Sam would make from cardboard boxes. The excitement of their plans allowed the boys to ignore the cold, but the weather soon began to wear on them.

Before the two were about to give up, Aaron’s younger brother by two years, Adam, and his friend Chris approached Sam.

“Hey, Sam,” Adam said. “Where’s Aaron?”

Aaron popped out of the box with a scream. Adam and Chris jumped back a little bit while Aaron and Sam laughed.

“Man, we sure got you,” Aaron told them.

Adam shook his head. “No way. We weren’t scared. We knew you were there.”

“Sure, whatever,” Sam said with sarcasm.

“What are you guys doing anyway?” Chris spoke up.

“We’re going to scare my grandma,” Aaron told them. “I’m going to wait for her in this box and jump out when she tries to open it.”

“But he’s going to give her a hug,” Sam added.

“Yeah, we don’t want to give her a heart attack,” Aaron said.

“Cool!” Adam said. “I wanna help.”

In his annoyed big bother voice, Aaron told Adam no. “This is our idea – not yours. Now, go on. You’re going to ruin everything like you always do.”

“Come on, let us stay and watch.”

Aaron crossed his arms. “No.”

Chris took a step back to avoid the brother’s bickering.

Adam sulked his shoulders. “But, Aaron…”

“She’s coming!” Sam interrupted.

Aaron ducked down, grumbling at his younger brother along the way. Sam packaged Aaron closed. Adam, Chris, and Sam stood together on the porch, watching Margie drive her car up. Aaron and Sam had cleared the driveway in the morning, making the walk over to them safe.

“Hi, boys,” Margie greeted.

“Hi,” Sam said first before Adam or Chris could say anything to ruin their prank. “This package came for you.”

“Oh, really,” Margie said as she looked at the package.

Before Margie could open the box, Aaron leaped out with a roar. Margie stepped back, waving her hands up in the air and shrieking. Aaron wrapped his arms around his grandmother for a hug, holding her to keep her from losing her balance. The four boys laughed.

Margie supported herself on the deck’s fence. She waved her finger at the kids, trying not to crack a smile. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“That’s why we had Aaron give you a hug,” Sam grinned.

Margie chuckled and opened the wooden gate. “Okay, how about I make you boys some lunch.”

The boys rushed inside into the warm house. As Margie prepared lunch for everyone, Aaron and Adam talked about their day. Aaron told his grandmother that his brother and his friend weren’t part of the prank, but Margie said if Sam were alone, she would’ve known something was up. Aaron didn’t comment or admit she had a point, but Adam did snark at his older brother.

Adam and Chris left the house first, leaving Aaron and Sam alone to discuss their afternoon plans. Margie suggested they could shovel people’s driveways to earn some money.

“Yeah, let’s go shovel some driveways!” Sam said with a cookie in his mouth. “We’ll call ourselves Snow Shovel Inc.”

Aaron slapped Sam’s shoulder. “You can get that new Super Nintendo game too.”

Sam swallowed the cookie. “Yeah!”

The boys said thank you and ran outside, grabbing the shovels they had used earlier. They had to walk a few blocks before getting to their first house. Aaron’s city block only contained his home, Margie’s house, the repair shop, and a skating rink. Behind them were some woods, which covered several city blocks and followed along the Hoquiam River.

The first house they knocked on was a simple, single-story house with a snow-covered driveway and garage. Behind the house were the same woods. The door cracked open, with the latch still on. A gruff, bearded man looked down at the boys with suspicion. He lifted the latch and opened the door.

The man tightened his plush house robe against the cold. “What do you kids what?”

Aaron stood tall and confident. “We just wanted to know if you would like us to shovel your driveway. We’ll shovel it first, and then you can pay us how much you think we deserve.”

The homeowner glanced up and down the street. He opened up his robe, revealing he was fully dressed in jeans and a clean t-shirt and pulled out his wallet from his pants. “Here’s five dollars for each of you if you go away.”

“Thank you!” Sam said as they each took the money.

Sam studied the tattoo of a star on the man’s right hand before he pulled his hands back inside. The man slammed the door, turned the locks, and stomped away. Sam and Aaron exchanged confused glances and carried on to the next house. As they got back on the sidewalk, a police car drove by.

For the next few hours, Sam and Aaron shoveled driveways and sidewalks. Some people said no thank you, and some said they would shovel themselves tomorrow. By the end of the afternoon, they earned a total of $35 together. Sam was a bit bummed he didn’t have enough to buy a new video game, but he had enough to rent some.

Aaron said he was curious about their fort in the snow, and Sam was too. The two decided to cut through the woods back to Aaron’s grandmother’s house. While the woods were part of an urban area, they contained no proper trails. The location was considered private property for a shipping company. No fences blocked the area surrounding the woods, and the “No Trespassing” signs held no consequences as the boys never got in trouble playing back there.

After hiking through the snow for several minutes, they saw their fort. Their fort didn’t look much different in the snow. The walls were a mix of whatever Sam and Aaron could scavenge but lightly covered with snow. Surrounding the base were piles of junk from people illegally dumping their belongings there—nothing new to them.

Outside their base was the first person the two had offered their services. The boys ducked behind a fallen tree and watched the man dig a hole. They placed their shovels on the ground behind them as they peered over the tree.

“What do you think is in that box?” Sam whispered to Aaron.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It could be a body.”

“Or stolen money,” Sam said, louder than a whisper.

“Or -”

“Hey!” the man shouted. “Get out of here, you kids!”

“Run!” Aaron and Sam said at the same time.

Neither bothered to call jinx on each other as they ran out the same way they entered, leaving their shovels behind. Sam was one of the fastest kids in school while Aaron wasn’t, but Sam was used to pacing himself so Aaron wouldn’t fall far behind. Sam kept looking backward to ensure the man wasn’t chasing them. Sam didn’t see him, but they kept running as they couldn’t be sure.

As Aaron and Sam bolted out of the woods onto the main street, a police car stopped at the sight of their panicked run. The officer rolled down his window. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Aaron took several deep breaths, trying to explain. “This guy is burring a dead body.”

“Or something,” Sam corrected. “We couldn’t see. He chased us off.”

“What does he look like?” the middle-aged officer asked.

Aaron took a puff from his inhaler. “He’s kind of scruffy, but not.”

“Yeah,” Sam added. “He also had a tattoo of a star on his hand.”

“A star tattoo?” the officer repeated. “Stay there.”

The officer rolled up his window and radioed an update to the station. He parked the car and asked the boys to lead the way, which they obliged. The man was where the boys found him, covering a large chest with dirt.

The officer drew his gun. “Stop right there.”

The man dropped his shovel and raised his arms. He cursed under his breath. Sam and Aaron stayed back as the officer handcuffed the man, reading him his rights.

“We’ve been searching for this guy,” the officer said to Aaron and Sam. “He’s responsible for some high-profile home robberies.”

The officer opened the chest, looking over the stolen items. He closed the trunk and asked the kids to follow him back to the car. The boys grabbed their shovels and followed the officer. After placing the criminal in the back, he collected the boys’ names and addresses, telling them there was a small reward. Sam gave his home address while Aaron gave his grandma’s address because he knew his parents would force him to save his reward.

After giving the cop their information, Aaron and Sam rushed back to Margie’s house – avoiding the woods. They told her what happened, which she laughed and said she wasn’t falling for anymore of their pranks today. Sam insisted they were telling the truth but gave up when she wouldn’t budge.

A few weeks later, when the snow had left no traces of its visit, Margie checked her mailbox. With the bills and junk mail was a letter from the Hoquiam police department. She sat at her kitchen table. Inside was a thank you letter from the officer and a check for a hundred dollars as a reward.

“I think I owe those boys an apology.”


Snow Shovel Inc. takes two short stories I wrote like in the early 2000s for school and updated for my fictional universe. The first half of the story, which was originally from a work titled The Box, was inspired by my actual childhood where my friend and I did scare his grandmother. The second half took another story of those characters in a fictional story of catching a criminal.

Barely anything survived expect for some lines of dialogue in this revitalization. I changed the me character to Sam Saxton from Tales Unveiled as part of the updating to the 16th Phoenix Universe. I had fun telling this story, seeing how I’ve improved as a writer, and I plan to give the same treatment to some of other older works.

Thank you for reading and thanks to Janine De Guzman and Mikey Marchan for bringing the discovery scene to life.

You Have 3 Unread Prophecies - art by Janine De Guzman and Mikey Marchan at Design Pickle

“You Have 3 Unread Prophecies”

A morning news show host receives three tips on his phone about the future as he spends time with his sister.


Ever since our parents died, my sister and I made a point to take a weekend vacation around their wedding anniversary as our way of honoring them. We lived in separate states, living separate lives, so getting together once a year – just the two of us, no spouses – would’ve made our parents happy.

This year was my sister’s turn to pick a destination. She watched a travel video showcasing the moonshine, mountain gondolas, and food in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. When she suggested Gatlinburg, I was surprised as the city was nowhere near a beach like she favored, but after doing some research, I was excited to visit too.

Weekends were easy for me to take off but tricky for Sarah. My sister was the Operations Director for a lake resort while I was a co-host for a morning news show. Our parents’ anniversary was toward the end of March, which was a slow period for her work.

After breakfast at the hotel, we visited one of the local moonshine distilleries. We tried Friday night when we first arrived, but we didn’t have the patience to deal with the crowd. Plus, we’d figured we would have better luck in the morning. Gatlinburg’s walkability motivated us to leave our cars at the hotel. (Side tip: you should do the same as parking is hard to come by.)

The winter season still had a grip on the trees, but the skies were clear and sunny, although cold enough to warrant jackets for us as Sarah led us into Ole Smoky Moonshine. Marcus (I think that was his name) entertained us with jokes and samples of six different moonshines. I liked the sour lime while she favored the apple pie flavor. The pickle was…interesting. 

My phone buzzed as my sister stepped away to use the restroom. There was a notification that read, “You Have 3 Unread Prophecies.” I had no idea what app of mine would display such a message. I opened the notification, which brought up an app I didn’t own with a mail-like interface.

The first message said, “Bring cash for donuts.” I didn’t have any cash on me at the moment, but I remembered seeing an ATM outside the building.

“That’s a good tip,” I said as I swiped open the following prophecy.

“Go to Clingmans Dome when prompted.”

When I drove through the Smokey Mountains to get to Gatlinburg, I saw a sign for Clingmans Dome. I didn’t know anything about the place, but the name and location made me think this dome would be like an observation post. I was game to visit. I figured I could get some breathtaking photos.

The last message was the most crypt and eyebrow-raising one. “When you arrive, have your video camera ready, but be safe and don’t get caught.”

This is all so weird, I thought. I bet my sister sent these. She knows of my affection for donuts and exploring.

I tried to re-read the messages, but the app disappeared. 

My sister returned. “You ready for our next stop?”

“Sure,” I said. “Just let me hit up this ATM for some cash.”

“Good idea,” Sarah said with a straight face.

With cash now in my wallet, we strolled over to The Village, which had German architectural motifs in a cute, walkable shopping district. The place was like nothing I’d experienced before. Buildings weaved all over the place, not following any sort of grid pattern like a standard city block. Since there were no streets, delivery people hauled packages on handcarts, which I’m sure was also quite the workout for them. There were hardly any flat surfaces. I took picture after picture with my iPhone. 

Then as the prophecy foretold, we discovered the donut shop that only accepted cash. The warmth and smell of fresh donuts in the tiny cottage-like business brought a wide grin to my face. Using the money I pulled out, I paid for our treats. 

“Good thing I got some cash,” I said with a wink to my sister as we each enjoyed a chocolate long john.

“Yeah, good thing.” Her casual reply and straight face made me wonder if she did indeed send me those prophecies. She changed the subject. “What do you want to do after lunch, Lucas?”

I thought for a moment. From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a woman with long, vibrant blue hair starring at me, but she turned away and around a building. I shrugged the watched feeling off. “Maybe we can drive around or go hiking.”

“How about Clingmans Dome?” my sister asked. “I saw a photo taken out there in the hotel lobby and thought you would like to take some pictures yourself.” 

I laughed.

Sarah crossed her arms. “What’s so funny?”

In my big brother teasing voice, I said, “Nothing.”

She repeated “nothing” in a mocking tone and then asked what I wanted for lunch. I told her anything, and she suggested we walk around some more and eat wherever caught out attention. We settled for a small burger joint, which I thought was okay. Every summer, we would do a special on creative burgers on our morning show, so I was spoiled. Technically, I’m spoiled on excellent food because of my job, but I appreciate all food, and I didn’t nitpick. My sister liked the place, and that was good for me.

Then as planned, or prophesied, we took my car and made the hour-long drive to Clingmans Dome. The information we found online warned that the road to Clingmans Dome may be closed for the season, but the gate was open for us. Despite being the weekend, the parking lot for the vantage point was empty. We chalked the lack of visitors as luck, or maybe this was the first day they opened for the season? We weren’t going to complain.

We didn’t get far into the hike when we saw a woman dressed like a spy with a long, black trench coat talking to a blue, reptilian alien creature. The alien had on this black leather outfit that made me think he needed extra warmth while also being ready to fight. I yanked my sister down, and we hid behind some rocks.

“What’s going on?” she whispered.

“You tell me,” I mocked, keeping my voice low as I pulled out my cellphone. “This was your plan for me to film this, huh?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I believed her. But who sent me those messages?

My phone had full cell service, which I thought was odd as I didn’t have any bars on the way up. I started a live stream on my Instagram. I positioned my phone like a periscope to watch without them seeing me. 

“This is an interesting location you picked.” The woman’s tone didn’t seem too enthusiastic about the location. She pulled in on her jacket.

The alien checked his surroundings. “I wanted to make sure we would be alone.”

“Of course,” said the woman. “I understand.”

The alien brought up the briefcase to his chest. “See, I don’t think you do understand. My sources told me that some other people who tried to sell to your group are never heard from again.”

The woman scoffed. “Don’t believe in rumors. Do you have the artifact?”

“My price has doubled.”

“Don’t be obscene. Give me the item at our original price.” The woman snapped her fingers, signaling the alien to bring over the briefcase.

“And cut!” I about dropped my phone from the sharp, booming voice. The voice seemed to startle the people, too, because they both jumped. A woman with a long, flowing red scarf marched from around the corner and straight toward the two people. “I think we’re done here.”

I looked around for any other film crew, but I only saw the director. My only explanation was that they were on wireless mics, and this was a drone shot, so everyone was out of sight. At least, that’s how my brain processed their setup at first. 

A fire truck honked its horn as they pulled up behind us. 

The woman with the alien held up both hands like she was trouble. “Director Lux. This isn’t what you think-”

The director turned and looked at us. “Hey, how did you two get on this set?”

I stepped forward and sort of explained. “The front gate was open.”

“That gate should’ve been locked. Now, get out of here,” the director ordered. “I better not see any footage online.”

“Right, sorry.” My sister had a good laugh at the situation. I turned off the live stream and deleted the clip.

The firetruck pulled in front of us, blocking the path. People dressed in uniforms like no other firefighter I had ever seen got out from the vehicle. I shrugged them off as actors. Before we returned to my car, Sarah said she needed to use the restroom. Luckily, there was an outhouse next to us in the parking lot. 

I listened to the film crew on the other side as I waited.

I heard the alien character complain. “I should’ve known you would’ve double-crossed me.”

“I’m in cuffs too,” the spy snapped back. “Hey, how did you find us anyway?”

“Lucas was live-streaming you, idiots,” the director said. “Our V.I. monitor caught the feed and dispatched us. You got a lot of explaining to do.”

The spy grumbled something I didn’t understand, but I understood when she said, “I bet he got a text message disguised as a prophecy.”


You Have 3 Unread Prophecies - art by Janine De Guzman and Mikey Marchan at Design Pickle

In the fall, my wife and I, along with my parents and sister, visited Gatlinburg. We didn’t even spend a full day there, but we knew we all had to come back (during a warmer month). I used the location as inspiration for the third unread prophecy stories, which are connected by the end-timer, Veritas, working to anonymously expose the illegal activities of a rouge fraction of Unity.

Thanks to Janine De Guzman and Mikey Marchan for bringing the scene at The Village to life. Thank you for reading my December short story. I got another one coming for January. Been busy with the holidays, client work, and sickness last month. 

Happy Adventures!

Real Spells for a Fake Witch - art by Janine De Guzman at Design Pickle

Real Spells for a Fake Witch

A mysterious man offers a woman dressed as a witch a device that allows her to cast real spells on Halloween. 


“Hey, Witch.”

Jill spun around with the box of wines wine she held, about to punch some guy for calling her a nasty name, but lowered her fist when the gentleman in a white suit and pink ascents continued. “I love your costume.”

“Oh, thanks,” Jill replied, her face flushed red in embarrassment from the misunderstanding. She was outside the liquor store, about to get her car after picking up some last-minute alcohol for her and her husband’s Halloween party tonight. She was dressed as a witch – decked out with a pointy purple hat, black corset, ripped leggings, and red heels for the occasion.

“It’s missing an accessory,” the man commented as he looked her over.

Jill clenched her tongue, bracing for whatever line he would give.

The man shook a finger at the sky when he realized his answer. “Real spells.”

Jill tilted her head back in unexpected confusion. “Real spells?”

“Or, more specifically, the ability to cast real spells,” he elaborated in a manner of an eccentric billionaire. 

The man in the white suit reached behind himself and impossibly pulled forward a green metal chest the size of a watermelon. Before Jill could respond, the man opened the case, revealing a glowing green fog surrounding a crystal ball. 

“Trade me one of your bottles of wine, and this device is yours,” the stranger offered.

Jill leaned forward and stared into the box. “How does it work?”

“Simply hold the crystal and say, ‘I cast,’ and what you want casted. Although, this device will only work until midnight, and you’ll have to live with whatever you created.”

Jill thought the deal over. Even if the crystal ball weren’t magical, the item would make for an excellent display prop or an accessory for her Halloween outfit. The exchange may be more in favor of the stranger, especially if the ball was mass-produced. Besides, she could always go back inside the liquor store and get another bottle of wine. She was grateful she was able to buy booze on a Sunday now.

Jill held out the case of wines. “I accept your offer.”

Without studying the selection, the man pulled out one of the wines. He reviewed the label for a moment – not long enough to read everything – before holding the chest forward for Jill. Jill picked up the crystal ball, losing herself as stars and planets swirled around inside. The display consumed her focus until the liquor store door dinged from someone entering did she snap out of her trance. Jill looked around for the stranger, but he was nowhere. She shrugged.

“I wonder,” Jill said as she held out the crystal. “I cast five boxes of red wine.”

The crystal glowed red before unleashing a spark of purple lighting at the pavement. Jill closed her eyes and jumped back but held tight onto the crystal. When she felt the danger pass, she saw five cases of premium boxed wine sitting before her. 

“Holy shit!” Jill cussed. “It fucking worked!”

Jill glanced around to see if anyone else saw what happened, but no one was around. She loaded up the wine in her black Jeep. After buckling in, Jill grabbed her iPhone from the phone mount and texted her husband. She told him to meet her in the garage as soon as she pulled inside. 

Upon arriving home, her husband followed her instructions. The garage door closed as Jill jumped out of her car.

“You won’t believe what I got,” Jill said, her voice racing as she pulled out the crystal ball from her pocket.

Her husband, Mike, took the crystal. “Neat. Where did you get this?”

“I traded a bottle of wine for it to this weird guy in a white suit,” Jill explained, still in a hurry. “It’s magically.”

Mike flipped up his eye patch for his pirate costume as he studied the crystal ball against the garage light. “I’d say.”

Jill yanked the crystal ball from him. “No, I mean, this is really magically. Watch. I cast a vanilla cake the shape and size of a human skull on a silver plate.”

The crystal glowed red before and then unleashed a spark of purple lighting at the ground, creating a vanilla skull cake. Jill smiled, proud of herself for holding steady during the spell casting this time. When she noticed Mike hadn’t said anything, she saw his face was drooped down and whiter. She picked up the cake.

“Don’t you think this is cool?” Jill asked, her voice soft.

“I’m worried,” he responded softly. “Remember that old Simpson’s Halloween special where the things they wished for had negative side effects?”

“Oh,” Jill uttered but then perked up. “But what’s wrong with this cake then?”

“I bet the cake has that fondant icing I hate,” Mike said.

Jill nabbed a tiny piece of icing from the back of the skull for a taste test. “Damn. It is fondant. But I bet other people will enjoy it.”

Mike shrugged. “I guess small spells have small consequences, so how about we keep it that way?”

Jill huffed. “I suppose you have a point. Besides, the guy said this would stop working at midnight anyway.”

“Of course he did. Typically spooky wares guy. Was he dressed in a black robe?”

“No, I said he wore a white suit with pink accents.”

“Oh, that’s right. You did say that.”

“Yeah, and he also had this strange, pink tie with white swirls,” Jill added. “The pattern made me think of Norse mythology or something like that. He wasn’t an old man either. He looked about our age.”

“Well, we should get this stuff inside,” Mike said. “We do have guests.”

“Right, you go back inside, and I’ll bring in the wine. I might have cast a spell for more wine earlier.”

Following the recommendations of her husband, Jill kept the spells small throughout the night. Whenever she wanted something, she went to the garage to create the item, which made for the perfect cover. She casted spells for things like more food, new wine glasses after being broken by a guest, full-size candy bars for the trick-or-treaters, additional Halloween decor, and other small items that wouldn’t raise suspicions.

The party lasted until almost midnight. As Jill and Mike cleaned the living room with the house to themselves, a thud hit their window. Jill thought nothing of the sound until she heard another one. She peeked out behind the curtain. A group of teenagers was throwing eggs and toilet paper at their house.

Jill pulled out the crystal from her pocket. “Oh, I’ll teach you a lesson.”

Jill stormed outside, prompting her husband to stop vacuuming and follow her. The teens laughed and started to run away. Jill’s eyebrows lowered and pulled closer together as she aimed the crystal ball.

“I cast a giant black widow to scare them!”

The crystal glowed and sparked to life a 10-foot tall black widow spider. The pranksters screamed in terror while Jill laughed in delight. The spider chased after them, knocking over her mailbox and some streetlights in the chase. The spider spewed webs, capturing the teenagers.

“Okay, this is going to have some major consequences,” her husband said.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Jill agreed with a sigh. “I cast spider be-gone.”

The crystal did not respond. Jill shook the device and tried again, but with no result.

“It’s 12:02,” Mike said while looking at his watch. “Didn’t you say everything would go away at midnight?”

“Yeah, I thought it would be like Cinderella, and everything would turn to normal, but I guess that’s not what he meant. He did say I would have to live with whatever I created.”

The black widow returned with the three teenagers, dropping them off like a cat offering a mouse. From above, three firetrucks landed like flying saucers, surrounding the spider and their home. Troops of humans in bright white and yellow uniforms poured out from the firetrucks. One with a rifle fired at the spider, stunning the creature and causing her to collapse. Another group rushed over to the teenagers and proceeded to free them.

Jill and Mike stood close together as a short woman with a yellow overcoat approached them. The couple read the name Captain Mists on her silver name tag. The leader glanced over the couple, spotting the crystal ball in Jill’s hand.

“May I see that,” Captain Mists formally requested, pointing at the crystal ball. Jill handed over the spell casting device without saying a word. The woman grunted in frustration. “Not another one.”

Captain Mists whistled, getting the attention of her team. “We got another spell caster situation. Standard procedure. Clear out anything that’s  not theirs and wipe their memories.”


Real Spells for a Fake Witch - art by Janine De Guzman at Design Pickle

This short story was triggered by my random logic process. As I was leaving a convenience/gas store, I saw a woman dressed as a witch leaving, which got me thinking of how witch rhymes with another word and what if someone offered the power to cast real spells. I’ve written a story with just Raven, so I wrote this one to feature Loki by himself.

Happy Adventures! 

The Cursed Photo from the Barbershop - art by Janine De Guzman at Design Pickle

The Cursed Photo from the Barbershop

During a walking ghost tour, a photo taken of a barbershop has consequences for a young couple.


I zipped up my hoodie to shield myself from the chilly October night breeze. The tour group moved along the downtown sidewalk and stopped in front of a barbershop. My Tinder date, who I will refer to as Rebecca, recommended the ghost tour walk. After reading one of the host’s many books about ghost stories and urban legends in Oklahoma, she learned about his guided tours. I have to admit, I was enjoying the tales from Jeff Provine about Norman.

Jeff told us that sometimes when people take a photo of the barbershop, a man in a brown overcoat and hat would appear starring back at them. Just about everyone-my date included-proceeded to pull out their phones and snap their cameras. The group inspected their photos only to have captured nothing.

The group moved forward while my date pulled me back for a moment.

“You should try with your camera with no one around,” she suggested.

When we met up for our date, Rebecca thought bringing my Polaroid camera was a fun idea. She also mentioned that she hadn’t been out with anyone with such a hobby. I was about to tell her that nothing would happen, but she put on an irresistible smirk that I could not deny. I smiled at her and pulled up my camera. I enjoyed the thoughtful, selective nature of the limited printed photos in a world of unlimited takes. While the tour host talked about the restaurant next door, I snapped a picture of the barbershop.

We rejoined the group, letting the photograph develop in my hoodie’s pocket. After a few stops, Rebecca asked to see if the barbershop photo had finished developing. I pulled out the picture, and she inspected the image like a person searching for treasure.

“I think you got something here,” Rebecca whispered with excitement as she showed me the photo.

“That looks like a brown smudge to me,” I told her with honesty. 

“Well, maybe it needs to develop more,” she said.

I didn’t say anything back. She was too cute, and I was enjoying the night. The tour was more informative than scary. We didn’t actually go hunting for ghosts, and no one jumped out to scare us. I think the best way to describe the experience was like a walking history tour involving ghosts and murders. I don’t want to spoil the tour for anyone, but I wanted to give some backstory on my cursed barbershop photo.

After the tour, Rebecca and I went our separate ways. When I got back to my apartment, my roommate was still gone. He was out of town for the weekend visiting family. He was a relatively chill roommate who kept to himself. He let me decorate the dining area, which I did by hanging my Polaroid prints with clothespins and strings all over the room. He thought they added much life to the bland beige walls of the apartment.

As I dumped out my belongings on the dining table, I got a text from my date asking me to send her a photo of all of the Polaroid pictures from the night. I laid them all out on the rustic white table my parents handed down to me when they bought a new one for themselves. Using my phone, I took a picture of the dozen prints. In the process, I took a closer look at the one in front of the barbershop. Where I thought I saw a blemish at first resembled more of the person Jeff described. I sent Rebecca a closeup and a copy to the tour guide too. Rebecca immediately FaceTimed me.

“I told you!” was the first thing she blurted out to me. “I told you so!”

“Okay, okay,” I admitted. Then I thought of a line. “Maybe you should come over and make sure this man in brown doesn’t try to kill me.”

Rebecca laughed. “Maybe I should. You know, to make sure you don’t die. Text me your address.”

I texted her my address, and she said she would be there in about 15 minutes. I proceeded to tidy up the apartment. I cleaned the place before leaving, but I didn’t expect her to come here as this was our third date. I started with the kitchen since I was already there. After emptying the dishwasher, I rounded up the prints on the table. As I was picking them up, I noticed the man in brown was in all of the photos. He stood in the exact same position compared to the one in the barbershop.

I assured myself, “This was to be some exposure glitch.”

I stacked the photos face down on the coffee table. I decided to worry about them later. I scrambled around the apartment, throwing out trash and cleaning dirty surfaces. I was straightening my bedsheets when I heard the doorbell rang.

I rushed to the door. However, when I answered, no one was there. I called out hello, but no one but the wind answered. I questioned my hearing. Did the doorbell ring? I closed the door and checked my phone. There were no new messages from Rebecca, and only 10 minutes had passed since her last text. As I was about to put away my phone, I received a text from Jeff.

“Thank you, but I should warn you that those who were able to capture a photo of the man in brown said they were haunted by him until they got rid of the picture,” Jeff’s message read with a winky face emoji at the end. 

I chuckled. He was clearly joking around, or at least that’s what I thought at the time. On my way back, I realized all of tonight’s prints had been scattered all over the living room. I proceeded to pick them up, which I figured got blown around from the wind when I opened the door. As I collected the final one, the doorbell rang. There was no mistaking the ring was mine.

I put the prints in my back jean pocket and answered the door. The man in brown stood before me with an old straight razor to Rebecca’s throat and a hand covering her mouth. Dirt covered his three-piece suit like someone dragged his outfit out of the ground.

“I want the photos,” the man demanded in a low grumble. His voice sounded rough like he hadn’t spoken in ages.

Without hesitation, I handed them over, and he pushed Rebecca onto me during the exchange, causing us to fall backward. As we stood up to shut the door, the man was gone.

Rebecca and I ended up staying up all night – not in the way I had hoped.


The Cursed Photo from the Barbershop - art by Janine De Guzman at Design Pickle

After the love for my previous short story, I’ll Never Walk Sutton Wilderness in the Dark Again, I was inspired to write another semi-realistic horror piece. This one was inspired by a story by Jeff Provine where people on his ghost tour would capture a photo of a man in a brown suit at the barbershop in downtown Norman, Oklahoma. So, yes, that part is true! I thought having the man come to life to reclaim the pictures would be a spooky tale for the season.

Thanks to Janine De Guzman for bringing the photographic moment to life.

Thank you for reading and Happy Halloween!

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