OG's BLOG

As my short story collection Headstones & Monuments comes near to completion, the largest and most complicated story is officially done. Tonight, I finished a good, solid second draft of “Visited Upon the Sons”.

It came out a bit longer than I originally planned. I wanted it to be around 10-12,000 words. It turned out to be 16,800 words (that’s about 60 pages). Getting pretty long for a short story.

In fact, in doing a little research, I was shocked to learn that many of the “short stories” for this collection are actually longer than the official short story classification, and instead classify as novelettes and “Visited Upon the Sons” is actually just 700 words short of a novella.

But it is a nice little puzzle of a story. It has a real sense of space and time, and you get the feeling that some real people are going through some really strange things that are hard to believe. Yet, as unbelievable as it seems, you do believe.

I may have indicated earlier that this story is complicated. It’s a semi-biographical story spanning several decades. It’s about the decisions we make and the way we deal with the consequences.

In honor of the lengthy story, here’s a longer sample than usual.

“Okay. I’ll show you.”

It was such a simple phrase – only four short words – but it changed the course of David Harwood’s life.

It was one of those rare autumn days when the weather is Indian Summer-perfect and there was no homework. David and his friends Zach and Casey were just off the bus when they found their conversation turning yet again to the vacant house at the end of the street. It was an old Victorian that had been slate grey with white accents, and now was a uniform ashen tone of neglect and faded beauty. Its lawns were waist-high with wild grasses, and its once-delicate landscaping had long since been overcome by heartier weeds. It looked the part of the haunted house, and as houses like that often do, it was the subject of the kind of rumors that are irresistible to thirteen-year-old boys.

“My friend said an old woman died in there,” said Zach. Zach Meyer was a small, painfully thin creature. Perpetually nervous, he reminded David of a chihuahua all the way down to his eyes, his thick whalebone glasses making him bug-eyed just like those nervous, tiny little yapping dogs. He liked to read comics; old EC Horror collections if anyone was looking, but Spiderman and The X-Men if he was alone. “And her spirit is trapped in that house. She doesn’t know she should move on.”

As they reached the house, David picked up a stick and dragged it across the wobbly wrought-iron fence at the front of the property, sending up a loud rat-a-tat as he did so. He stared intently through the overgrowth at the front door.

“I heard a whole family was murdered in that house,” said Casey. Casey Stigler used to be as tiny as Zach, but had experienced a tremendous growth spurt over the summer. He was now one of the larger kids in the eighth grade, a large, friendly kid with a Monty Python fixation. He was a good friend, even if he didn’t know when to stop the comedy routines. All three boys liked Monty Python, but with Casey, it was always one too many quotes, one too many jokes, one too many funny voices. Still, he was a nice enough kid, jovial, with a massive mop of jet black hair on his head. And from the look of him, Mister and Missus Stigler were going to have trouble filling the kid up.

“That’s B.S.,” said David. “A murder happened here, we woulda heard about it.”

“But we did hear about it! I heard about it, and I’m telling you – that’s what I’m saying!” Casey insisted. “They were murdered in there, and their ghosts are, like, sticking around. Looking for justice or revenge or some kinda crap like that.”

“Where do you guys get this stuff?” David asked, fixing his friends with his gaze. “You guys have been telling me these same stupid ghost stories since we were in the fourth grade, you know that?”

Zach shrugged.

“People talk,” Casey said. “You hear things. That’s all.”

David looked back at the house. He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair. With his Hollister hoodie and casual good looks, he looked like he’d been plucked out of an ad in the weekend sales circular. A good-looking kid staring thoughtfully at the ocean, or maybe the courtyard of a private school instead of the front door of a slowly collapsing home. That was not the sort of thing the sales fliers liked to show.

“Devil House. Sheesh,” David said to himself, finally.

“What?” Zach said.

“Nothing,” David answered. “Just, Lucinda was talking crazy about this place, too, last week. Must be something in the air.”

“What’d she say?” Casey asked.

“Nevermind. You guys are already scared.”

“Uh-uh!” said Zach.

“Come on,” said Casey.

David looked at his friends for a moment, sizing them up. “All right, I’ll tell you,” he said. “But you gotta promise not to lose it when you hear.”

NOTE: For fun, compare to the previous First Draft sample I posted. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. The collection is slated for release in Mid-March, in digital, traditional paper and audio versions.