Luke 17:26 – Days of NoahFebruary 12, 2012
I’m writing a new horror story – and it’s my best yet. I call it “Our Lord Weathercock” but I’m thinking of changing it to “The Midwestern Days of Noah.” Of course, the horrid tale is set in Wister Town, Wisconsin and I continue exploiting and expanding the mythology documented in depth with my Pazuzu Trilogy. Below is the end of Chapter 4 Mired Excursion in which Anti-Protagonist and old man Bill De Corbin rides his stolen adult-sized tricycle from the Wafflestein restaurant on the Square in his hometown. The man is going to the public library so he can research Black Magic. His travel becomes mysteriously impaired.
I’m not even half-finished. In the meantime, read my short horror stories from my self-published collections entitled Horrid Tales of Wister Town and A Codex of Malevolence – available at Smaswords and LuLu.
Luke 17:26 “Just as it was in the days of Noah, so also will it be in the days of the Son of Man.”
“Following the cultist, Bill gulped his coffee and went straight outdoors. He left the whole array of coins on the counter in the cafe. Knowing he’d piss soon enough, the old man hadn’t drank any of the tall glass of warm tap water the waitress provided – the cultist hadn’t drank any water, either. The adult tricycle De Corbin trusted outside stood precisely where he had parked his fenced vehicle.
Bill sat on the bike and pedaled backwards, moving the front wheel from the Wafflestein facade. When the old man stopped pressing against the pedals, the bike rolled forward and downhill. Bill rode the momentum of gravity then turned the bike’s front wheel sharply toward his left. The concrete sidewalk, elevated two concrete steps from the dry and salt-powdered asphalt of the street, was wide and allowed the old man to spin his bike completely around.
The momentum started him uphill on the vacant Midwestern boardwalk. Once he began pedaling against the twenty-degree slope, Bill found even that was easy. Three of four tire rotations later, the old man then felt as if he pulled the rope of an anchor taut. Using unseen strings, Bill dragged something invisible uphill.
Encouraged the distance up the Square was only one block before his route leveled again, Bill pushed himself. Thankful for the infusion of caffeine, the old man dragged a heavy nothing all the way. Upon flat land again, he grunted and wheezed. He hoped his work became easier, and riding the tricycle on a level sidewalk was indeed less hard.
The bewitched truth about pedaling the cycle, Bill still dragged something he didn’t see. If he bothered and got off the bike, the old man wouldn’t be able to touch the nothing there – so he didn’t. Bill worked harder than he expected and rode west the two blocks toward the library. Along the way, he reviewed his mental map of the Square and realized he had plotted his route diagonally as crows fly.”