*PREVIEW*

More To Come

A Horror Short from

The Westerheights Collection

Volume I

By: Mark Lundbek

It is 5 am and a blank page stares at me. This is my story. I face it with determination, and a thirst that can only be quenched by the keys. I am a writer. The sun is just beginning to come up in Westerheights, and I haven't been to sleep in two days. The mist dances beneath the streetlights as the tall man passes across the street, and in my minds eye, I can see old Mr. Lancing next door, already sitting in his rocker on the old, weathered porch, coffee in hand, conversing just under his breath with the birds as they begin to wake Westerheights.  His rocking causes the boards to creak. I look back down at the page, and yep, it is still blank. I center the cursor. Chapter I. Still nothing. I pause, get up, lean over my desk and open the window. Sitting back down I grab my old Westclox Baby Ben that is telling me 35 minutes have passed since I rolled the fresh sheet onto my screen and decided to center my cursor. I open my top desk drawer and place it in, face down, and close the drawer. It ticks at me defiantly. Yeah, not exactly a surefire way of avoiding watching the time pass and a page remain empty, I mean we are in the digital age so there is constantly a clock staring at me from my screen, but I find if it doesn't tick, and is quite small, I can sometimes forget it's there and get things done. I can hear Lancing's screen door slam. I imagine he is going back in to refill his caffine stream.

Chapter I

Adderly Lancing rocked gently back and forth as he watched the tall man's slow, methodical pace down the walk, across the street, running past his lush, and neatly maintained front lawn. The street lamp's orange glow, bloomed in the early morning mists and cast unearthly orange specters and shadows that danced, in an almost loving fashion around the man, as he passed steadily beneath each shimmering lamp. There was a familiarity to the man. An almost warming comfort, like that of hot cocoa on a cold day. The way it heats your chest as your kind, wise grandfather told you "Grandma's cocoa starts by warming your heart." Adderly stopped rocking. "More to come..." he trailed off. The tall man's head was the last that Adderly could make out as the he passed into the thickening, morning mist. "That's how she got me..." Adderly stood. His chair rocked back and forth, and hit his legs. A piercing, terrified scream echoed up the street. Adderly's chair rocked back and forth, but did not hit him, his screen door slammed. An anguished cry rose up from the direction the tall man came.