Emerging horror author, Lyn Gibson, has done it again! Her new release, “Short & Gory” is just on the horizon! Inspired by Stephen Kings’ “Creepshow” “Short & Gory” leaves nothing lacking for fans of the horror genre. “The tales are haunting, every reader will be able to associate to the characters” Gibson states. “Fans of guts and gore will not be disappointed; each story has its’ own macabre twist that readers won’t see coming!” she adds with a wicked grin.
Ms. Gibson has been busy at work since the publication of her Erotic Vampire series, “The Adrian Trilogy”. With a fan base boasting over 59k followers, her works are going viral and fans have been eagerly awaiting the launch of her newest work. “It’s an incredible feeling to know that I can be as creative as I want and fans seem to love it!” “It’s a good thing, there are no limits to the dark extremities of my imagination and there are new projects underway!” Gibson states with a tease.
Ms. Gibsons’ schedule has been quite active since the rumors of a new release went viral. In the past week she has had a local radio spot, a two hour interview with Royce Halloman with a third interview scheduled at the end of the month with Speculative Fiction, on which she will do a live reading from one of her releases. Stay tuned in to fan pages and blogs for upcoming announcements and links from these interviews as well as updates for the release date of “Short & Gory”!
For now, Ms. Gibson wishes you all “sweetest nightmares” and leaves you with a teaser from “Ms. Callem” a tale from “Short & Gory”!
Every small town has one, the sweet little old lady that lives in the turn of the century home just down the street from the post office. Every Ms. Callem, regardless of her name, has been around for as long as anyone remembers. Everyone knows and loves her as she is always a pillar of the community, a living relic of a more simple and civil time.
This crisp and bright spring morning finds Ms. Callem hanging a sign on her white picket fence, just behind the blue Hydrangea.
“Morning Ms. Callem” Roland, the mail carrier, tolled.
“Why, Good morning Dear!” she retorted as she turned slowly to acknowledge a familiar voice.
“Rentin’ that room out again I see!” he smiled warmly as he sorted through a stack of mail to find her parcels.
“Yes, Dear, these young folks just don’t stay in any one place for very long” she answered as she crossed her arms over the gate.
“Yes Ma’am, You right about dat!” he nodded as he offered her mail to her.
“As soon as I get to know them, they’re gone, just me and my roses” she smiled fondly as she accepted her parcels.
“And the most beautiful roses anyone has ever seen; Good day to you now!” Roland smiled as he carried on his way.
Ms. Callem waved her mail at him in response and turned to make her way back inside her old family home.
It was a fact, people traveled from Parishes all around just to purchase her roses. They were all handsome breeds, buds nearly the size of her delicate and withered hands, blooms that were enormous, which lasted for weeks; and the most intoxicating of fragrances. The most baffling fact about her roses; they bloomed year round. When asked how she had created such a breed, Ms. Callem would smile and say; “It’s a family secret, passed down by the lady of the house for generations.” Part of the “secret” was an old greenhouse to the rear of her property, rumored to have been slave quarters in darker days.
Though her roses were high demand, Ms. Callem would take on tenants from time to time, both to enhance her income as well as provide company for a lonely old woman. The last of her short term tenants, a young man, fresh from college.
Vincent had drifted in from town just after graduation, in search of a job as the economy had worsened since he began his studies over four years ago. Polite and courteous, yet a bit of an introvert, the young man offered little companionship for Ms. Callem. One would suppose that she had not missed him once he left, however his absence was noticed by some as he had vanished without reporting to work, or returning for his pay checks.
Ms. Callem had just made her way up the steps, across the old wooden porch and was at the door as her phone rang.
“Oh My! Who could that be?” she spoke aloud to herself as she inched towards the phone.
“Hello?” she answered. “Good Morning Ms. Callem, and how does this fine morning find you?”
She recognized the voice immediately. “Well, Father, I’m blessed, and how are you love?” she asked warmly.
“Just fine” he answered with a smile in his voice. “Ms. Callem, as you know Mr. Martins’ funeral is Friday.” “As he was a long time member and contributor to our Parish, I thought nothing would be more fitting than your roses for his memorial” he explained. “Might I come by later this afternoon and purchase one dozen of your’ most magnificent red roses?” he asked.
“Why of course, dear!” she exclaimed.
“Wonderful! I will come by around 2:00 then” he said.
“Very well, I’ll make sure to have coffee ready!” she tolled as she ended the call.
Though everyone in the community always waved and stopped to speak with her during their evening walks, few ever had the time for a sit down visit. Ms. Callem was excited to have a guest call. She would bake cookies!
Rejuvenated, she made her way to the kitchen and began to gather the necessary ingredients for her grandmother’s sugar cookie recipe. Soon the cool spring breeze wafted the aroma of baking cookies throughout her home. Now nearing 2:00 she started her coffee pot and walked out of the back door to fill the Fathers’ order.
“Good afternoon everyone!” she exclaimed as she walked into the decrepit old green house. Row upon row of roses in every color imaginable filled the small improvement. From the floors to the exposed rafters above, buds and blooms grew proudly from the putrid soil beneath them.
“Aren’t we the lovely group” she taunted as she reached for her basket and scissors.
Ms. Callem made her way through the greenhouse selecting the most handsome of red roses, placing them one by one in her basket until it had become burdened with the weight of their massive buds.
“And you make one dozen” she giggled as she placed the last of them in her sagging basket and made her way out of the greenhouse.
As she closed the door she sat her basket onto the ground and placed a large padlock onto the door latch, securing it tightly before retrieving her basket and returning to the kitchen.
She had barely reached the back porch as she heard Father Ryan calling for her. “I’m here Father” she said as she scurried through the parlor to open the screen door for him.
“I was concerned when you didn’t answer” he smiled as she held the door open.
“I’m sorry to have worried you Father” she said smiling, “I was out back cutting your roses for you” she explained.
“Oh, I must see your’ greenhouse some day” Father Ryan said as he entered and inhaled the aroma of fresh coffee and cookies.
Ms. Callem chuckled as she led him to the kitchen. “I’m sorry Father, it’s a family secret; in order for me to allow you into the greenhouse you would have to marry me, and we both know that’s not going to happen” she giggled as she directed for him to sit at the table.
The Father blushed at her comment then, spotted the roses on the counter across from him. “They are truly beautiful” he said motioning towards the basket as she placed the cookies and coffee onto the already set table.
“Those are the St. Vincents” she smiled as she sat and began to pour for them.
Father Ryan stayed for quite some time, they conversed of old times and loved ones long since passed and as expected, the history of her home.
Ms. Callems’ home was one of the first established in the rural parish. As with many old houses, it had a history of odd legends and occurrences. It was also one of the first estates in the area to offer housing to its’ slaves.
Rumors of voodoo and witchcraft had hovered over the home site for many years, but those that knew the tales the best were now long since in their graves. One would hear an occasional whisper of black magic rites that had been held on the grounds many decades passed, only to be scoffed away as folks around here don’t much believe in those things anymore.
The afternoon had grown into early evening. Father Ryan thanked her for the coffee and cookies while presenting her with a check for the roses that he now gingerly lifted from the basket.
“I trust I will see you at Mr. Martin’s service Friday?” he asked as she ushered him to the front door.
“Of course” she smiled warmly, “Mr. Martin was a fine man” she added as the Father stepped from the porch.
“Until then” he said as he nodded to her and made his way to his car, placing the roses on the passenger seat before turning to wave once more.
The old woman, sad to see her guest leave, turned and made her way back into the house in order to clean their dishes. Now nearing sunset, it was time to tend to her roses. She laid the dishtowel down on the counter and made her way to the pantry.
The small musty room was lined with shelves on both sides. One side held a multitude of empty mason jars prepared for use, the other was laden with jars that contained varying levels of some dark liquid. Ms. Callem walked to the rear of the pantry and retrieved several jars, balancing them carefully within her fragile arms as she made her way back into the kitchen and out the back door.
She inhaled the aroma of sweet olives and honeysuckle as she meandered down the walkway to the rear of her property where the old wooden greenhouse sat.
Her back yard, though an oasis during the day, took on an entirely different demeanor in the evenings; Even Ms. Callem did not venture off of the back porch once the moon took over the night sky. The fact of the matter was that the rumors of voodoo rituals were true. Though the old woman had had no part in participating, she being the last heir of her family line was now responsible for maintaining the daily rituals that had been set in motion by her ancestors.
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