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The Killing Tree
A Collection of Horror and Unusual Short Stories
The Lift
He was taking a walk, his constant go-to after a long week of flying when the sidewalk in front of him opened and vomited-up the body of a woman. She was covered in soil and clearly dead. Clayton leaned in for a closer look then jerked back, gagging at the smell of putrescence and shit.
Night Sounds
Toby jerked awake, covered in sweat, and gasping for air. Shafts of moonlight penetrated his window throwing snowflake shadows onto his walls, making his bedroom look like the set of an old Christmas special. The nightmare had woken him once again except, this time, there was no dream. He'd heard something in the house.
Days of Bacchus
Lee panned the large space. The bar was covered in heavy dust, but he saw the strings of colored lights that hung over its’ edges, pulsing discordantly to the music that played from the juke box across the room. He looked there now. An empty sideboard stood in its’ place, but Barry could hear it clearly and even recognized the song.
“No, I don't know where I'm goin’ But I sure know where I've been.”
The Killing Tree
The tree leaned her great bulk forward, pulling her monstrous roots out of the ground, then throwing them forward again where they plunged back into the soil, eager to feed her fury. She crashed through the last of the wood-line and tore into the lawn. Murray saw the scar on the trunk and felt his knees go weak.
The Sea Wall
​
He was a man always holding a phone. Each day you found him squinting into his computer screen reading, assessing, selecting. He wrote company names on a board and jotted percentages next to each. He met quotas, filled pipelines and brought home a thousand deals. Occasionally, a wistful look hinted at an idea that wandered away from business and at night he explored these imaginings writing stories on that same computer screen.
And then…
“Anthony,” said the world. “Where are you?”
Woodpecker
The ground collapses beneath him, and the writer falls into mud and bones, leaving him buried up to his neck. He tries to move but can only turn his head toward the tree and as he does the willow’s branches part and a bird the size of an African lion appears. The Woodpecker King is crimson from head to foot, and it hops toward him, shaking the plateau with its weight.
MoM
​
I hate my mother.
There.
I said it.
And I don’t mean it in that irritated, temporary, she really got to me this time, sort of way.
I mean, I really hate her, deep down where it counts.
I’ve got reasons.
Well, maybe just one.
She gave me life and that’s all.
The Rejection Letter
​
Michael looked down at the blue card with its’ message printed on its center.
Though the manuscript you sent has not found a place here, I thank you for the opportunity to consider it.
“I can’t believe it,” a voice said. Michael looked over and saw it was Malcom Gil, the editor he had met at the door. He was holding the blue card.
“He’s condemned us with a form letter.”
The Blanket Man
The Blanket Man grinned up at him again. This time, Petie could see bits of cookie stuck between The Blanket Man's teeth and glued to the bottom of his chin. The Blanket Man tilted his head all the way back and opened his mouth, holding the last piece over it. Petie had never seen anyone open their mouth that wide before. It reminded him of the Pez Dispenser he got on Halloween.
Mouse Trap
​
Wendy watched open-mouthed, unbelieving what she was seeing. These mice did not look like the mindless scavengers she understood them to be and her earlier word, Platoon, seemed suddenly appropriate. They functioned like an army training for a mission as their queen birthed more soldiers to add to their purpose.
Pablo's Taqueria
​
Pablo’s Taqueria overlooks highway 74, a zillion miles of Texas cracked concrete that runs as straight as the crow flies, north and south, through the endless, empty prairie. A cherry, metallic blue '76 Lincoln Continental signals for the turnoff and begins its spiraling climb to the restaurant as its 385 horsepower V8 stock engine growls at the effort. A deep vibrating bass moves ahead of it. Thud, Thud, Thud the angry giant belts out, stomping up the street.
Last Call
​
Steve’s first shot took down the beast on the left. The two other humanoids froze in place, and reached toward the same spot on their bodies, uttering a series of light barks, as if they shared the pain. The wounded beast struggled up, panting heavily and bleeding like a gutted pig but it kept coming for him. It was dying, Steve could see that, but it moved with sudden vitality. The other two creatures shimmered beside it, unmoving.
The 4th Floor
​
He turned back to Allen. “You have to believe me! It was killing him!! I could HEAR it tearing him apart!! Do you understand? OH SWEET JESUS! I didn’t want to leave him but I couldn’t find the way in!” He covered both of his ears with his hands. “My God, I can’t get his screams out of my head!
The Last Ride
​
A Suzuki lay buried under the front end of a ruined Pick-up Truck, its baby blue paint peeled back a top the shredded metal. The handlebars were twisted around each other like mating metal serpents. Its rider lay on his back twenty-five feet from the wreck. His lower body was turned sideways, seemingly independent of his torso thanks to his broken back. One, outstretched leg bent in a place that was not his knee and at this spot, something white and jagged poked through his torn jeans. My stomach rolled when I realized it was his severed shin bone.
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