Please enjoy a sneak peak at my upcoming horror novel.
Adam Swift & The Different
Art Gulley Jr.
Night slowly descended over Downtown Detroit. The traffic on Woodward Avenue thickened with an influx of cars filled with rabid baseball fans headed to Comerica Park for the Tiger’s season opener against the Yankees.
The sidewalks were already jammed with laughing chatting pedestrians eager to take their place in the lines streaming out from the stadium's main entrance.
Tickets were readily surrendered to the waiting gate keepers under the watchful eyes of the two, twenty-foot tall concrete tigers adorning the entryway, while park security conducted their routine searches of all incoming patrons. There were a few disgruntled murmurs over the guards' thoroughness, but the majority of those waiting took it in stride. A safe stadium was a happy stadium, and everyone was looking forward to what promised to be an exciting game.
Leaning casually against one of the numerous light posts lining the avenue, a tall burly man with dark eyes and oily black hair observed the crowd with a growing sense of excitement.
Trevor Jackson had no great love for baseball or any other sport, but was still looking forward to tonight’s game. Such events always brought out the multitudes, and that meant a greater selection of potential…playmates for him to choose from.
As a rule Jackson avoided the larger groups, or the individuals who didn't let game day fervor dim their awareness of their surroundings. He craved the twits on the opposite end of the attention curve, with a particular fondness for the Cell-heads; rushing here and there with their fancy smart-phones mashed against their ears, completely oblivious to the dangers of the world around them.
One such woman was headed his way, her gaudily cased I-phone glued to the side of her stylishly coiffed head, her tanned face suffused with anger.
“No, I wasn't able to pick them up,” her shrill voice carried on the wind as she stomped down Woodward, heading away from the stadium. “There’re so many people down here for tonight’s game that I couldn't even get near the booth!”
Her angry rant was music to Jackson’s ears. The faint whiff of her floral-scented perfume produced a surge of lustful adrenalin in his quivering body as his eyes fixated on the alluring sway of her designer-jean encased hips.
A small part of his lust-enthralled mind advocated caution given his current felony status, but that notion was quickly discarded. Opportunity was knocking on the door, and he intended to answer it.
He let the distance between them lengthen by several feet then casually sauntered after her; unaware of the shimmering haze clinging to the top of the light post he'd just abandoned.
Sera watched the big man with barely restrained mirth. She had shadowed this one for several weeks, watching from the outer periphery as he diligently sought victims to sate his vile lusts.
The so-called law enforcement agencies of three states had failed to curb this animal's appetite, but his luck was about to run out.
She smirked at his clumsy attempts at stealth as he stalked his latest victim. The fool fancied himself a predator. She would soon teach the lumbering oaf the true meaning of the word.
Detaching her ethereal body from the light post, Sera quietly joined in the pursuit.
Jackson's target continued down Woodward, the cell phone still glued to her ear as she turned onto a sparsely lit side street. The parking garage where she had stowed her car was located at the street's other end. So intent was she on her conversation, she gave scant notice to the area's encroaching shadows; one of which drew steadily closer.
The woman’s steps took her past the driveway of one of the block’s many shops. Its windows, like those of its neighbors, were darkened, and Jackson decided to make his move. With a sudden pounce, he grabbed the woman about her waist, and pulled her into the tight enclosure.
Jarred by the considerable force of the impact, the woman finally relinquished her hold on the phone. She tried bringing to bear the self-defense moves her brother had once shown her but met with no success; regret for not having practiced the techniques more diligently now a mocking song in her mind.
“Now just relax, babe,” Jackson panted as he roughly pulled at her jeans with his free hand. “Oh yeah,” he taunted, sliding calloused fingers over the silken material of her undergarments. He stopped when his probing digits came up against the slight protrusion of a pantyliner. "Uh-oh; it looks like the front door's closed. Guess we'll have to go through the back.''
The woman's muffled cries pushed against the hand covering her mouth as she doubled her efforts to get free, but it was no use. Jackson's grip was too strong.
“Ah,'' the fiend sighed as he slid his hand around to her rear, roughly forcing a thick finger between her clinched buttocks. A shudder went through his victim's body as the calloused tip of his finger probed her anus. "Hmm, nice and tight; you and me are gonna have a good…Hey!” Jackson's lewd whisper turned into a startled cry as powerful fingers suddenly tightened around his throat and snatched him away from his quarry.
The frightened woman quickly pulled up her pants and scrambled off, stopping just long enough to retrieve her fallen phone; a shaky “Thank you” to her shadowy savior tumbling from her lips as she disappeared from the alley.
“It looks like your friend left,” a hoarse voice grated against Jackson's ear, a blast of scalding breath washing over the nape of his neck. “But don’t worry; you and I are going to have a good time!”
Terrified, Jackson frantically tried to pry his assailant's fingers loose. It was like trying to free himself from a vice. He did manage to twist his head around enough to catch a glimpse of his captor.
Two glowing red eyes met his gaze.
"Jesus!" Jackson cringed as he studied his tormentor.
Thick black hair partially obscured the…thing’s face. What was visible appeared to be porcelain white and smooth, one side covered with intricate tattoos. The pale, bare arm that held him rippled with muscles as did the rest of the scantily clad body. Modest breast and the subtle curve of the hips identified his attacker as female, though she was unlike any woman
had ever come across. “What the hell kind of monster are you?” Jackson
Thin black lips parted in a wicked smile revealing a mouth full of jagged crimson teeth. “My name is Sera, and I’m not a monster.”
"Then what the hell are you?"
The glow about Sera's eyes intensified. “I’m...Different!"
A languid fog overcame Jackson's mind, removing the fear that was saturating his synapses.
"That's better," Sera purred, shoving his now pliant form against the same dumpster. Fingers sporting long black talons began exploring Jackson's body, pausing at his groin to give his penis a gentle squeeze through the rough denim. "Aren't' you a big boy."
A dazed and drooling Jackson could only moan as Sera's skillful fingers deftly freed his hardening member from his pants, illiciting a sigh of pleasure from his quivering lips as her warm palm made contact with his bare flesh.
Sera released a scornful snort as she caressed his growing erection. "And you were going to use this on that poor girl? Shame on you!" Her whispered words tickled Jackson's ears as she leaned against him, the feel of her erect nipples pressing into his back further increasing his drunken lust. She gave his thickening penis a gentle squeeze. "I doubt if it would've even fit inside of her, but I think I know a place where it will."
She flicked her serpentine tongue against Jackson's ear, pulling another husky moan from him while her grip tightened on his manhood. The crimson glow of her eyes intensified as she flexed her hand, and began a rhythmic pumping.
Sera increased the tempo of her strokes, pressing Jackson's head harder against the dumpster as she felt his scrotum starting to swell with his impending release. Seconds later, Jackson heaved a massive sigh as she brought him to climax, his seed spilling onto her stroking hand.
Sera waited until the tremors of his orgasm subsided then slid her sticky fingers to the base of his flaccid cock, took firm hold of it and his scrotum then ripped them from his body.
Jackson's blood-curdling screams echoed through the night for several seconds then all was quiet in the dark driveway, save for the crack of bones followed by an ominous sucking.
"Got another hack-job for you Wen," the burly tech called as he wheeled a gurney laden with a sealed black body-bag through the polished steel doors of Henry Ford Hospital's morgue.
Dr. Wendy Parsons, head of Ford's Pathology Department, and one of the top Forensic Pathologists in the state of Michigan, turned her attention away from the open file on her cluttered desk to give the newcomer her full attention. "Same as the others, Tan?" she asked as her assistant, Tanakido Matsahuri, maneuvered the gurney into position under one of the lab's fluorescent examining lamps.
"It looks like it, only this time our perp decided to have a little fun." He locked the gurney in place then carefully unzipped the bag and pulled it open. The smell of feces and decaying flesh lingered briefly in the air before being sucked up through the lab's powerful vents.
"Jesus," Wendy gasped fighting the urge to re-aqauint her mouth with the tuna sandwich she'd had for lunch as she gazed upon the eviscerated remains of what had once been a human being.
Every limb, including the victim's fingers and toes, had been snapped in such a way that the jagged edges of the bones were clearly visible. The skull and rib-cage equally mangled. Even more disturbing was the state of the man's genitalia: His penis and scrotum were gone; the condition of the remaining tissue indicating that they had been savagely torn away.
"My God!" Wendy cried, an icy shiver running through her petite frame as she turned stunned eyes to Tan.
"It gets worse," Tan remarked, a grim look on his face. "Brace yourself." He took hold of the body and leveraged it onto its side, giving Wendy a startling glimpse of the corpse's backside, specifically the deceased's shorn genitals shoved obscenely between his buttocks.
This time Wendy didn't resist her stomach's rebellion, and she emptied its contents into the small trash can Tan promptly thrust at her after releasing his hold of the body.
"Sorry, Tan," Wendy offered when she was done, popping one of the mints she carried in her lab coat, for just such an occasion, into her mouth. "You would think that after twelve years of this stuff I'd be used to it by now."
"Death is something you never get used to, Doc." Tan's expression clouded over as he thought back to the horrific things he'd seen as a Marine medic while serving multiple tours in Iraq; the memories of which still gave him nightmares. The moment of introspection passed, and his brown, almond-shaped eyes resumed their normal mischievous glint. "If it makes you feel any better, I left my lunch at the crime scene."
Tan's quip drew a tender smile from Wendy who appreciated his attempt to preserve her pride. She was fully aware of his military background, and was certain the mess on the table didn't compare to the horrors her stolid assistant had experienced while overseas. "Thanks, Tan. Knowing that this craziness can rattle a Jar-head like you makes me feel like less of a wimp."
Tan chuckled at her statement then turned serious. "So what do you think's going on, Doc?" He nodded at the body. "This is the fifth freak show we've had to dissect this month."
Wendy gave the corpse a speculative look. "You're guess is as good as mine. Here." She tossed him a pair of latex gloves. "Let's run the gauntlet on this guy and see if he's the latest victim of Detroit's newest psycho."
That's it for now!
I hope to have full novel released by summer.
Thanks for reading and please feel free to leave any comments, critiques, or suggestions!