Showing posts with label blog serial. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blog serial. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 24, 2023

10 years in the freakboy zone…

My first post was posted on Friday, May 24th, 2013.  I wrote about wanting to entertain through my words and how I didn’t want to set parameters for this blog.  Essentially, I planned to blog about whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.  

Did I achieve what I set out to do a decade ago?  You have joined me as I released short stories, poetry and blog serials You have experienced my reviews of some wonderfully off-kilter books, films and television series You have stood by me as I shared my struggles & triumphs with vision loss.  You even stuck around as I dragged you into my obsession with the late filmmaker Andy Milligan Hopefully through it all, I entertained you and maybe accidentally expanded your horizons. 

No matter how old I get, I shall always be a freakboy, so here’s to another 10 years in the zone… 🤓 
Black and white Photo of a freakboy seriously staring at you
Thank you to past, present and future readers!  My appreciation runs deeper than words can fully express.  

Freak Out, 
JLH 

P.S. You have also tolerated the plugging of my books, so click the pic ⤵️ for a recent red carpet review of DARK EXCURSIONS from Realweegiemidget Reviews… 

Screenshot of Realweegiemidget Reviews  review of dark excursions, a book by john l. Harmon, shows an ominous photo of a church.

Tuesday, March 1, 2022

HAUNTING STURGEONS: Epilogue

 Previously in this blog serial...


(Click here to read Chapter Twenty-Six


Now the HAUNTING concludes...

______________


Haunting Sturgeons, epilogue, by john L. Harmon

That’s what I remember about the day I killed a man.  


Now I’m serving 15 years in prison for voluntary manslaughter.


I took full responsibility for why I had a gun and for shooting Clyde Woodhouse, so there was no need for a trial, just a hearing to determine my fate.


Benjamin Straker appeared and asked the court for leniency due to the traumatic events in my life.


The judge wasn’t interested, sighting my premeditated intention to inflict harm as reason for the maximum sentence. 


Straker paid me a visit afterwards and we discussed guilt and forgiveness, something we both struggle with.  


It felt good to talk with him, to take an initial step in making what seems like impossible amends. 


Then Eddie showed up one day, which made me nervous because I didn’t know what to expect.


His visit was full of long stretches of uncomfortable silence, but he said he would come back and he did. 


We mainly talk about my letter, working our way through my lies, which is painful, but necessary.


He is still coming to terms with the magnitude of what I did, but he places some of the blame on his dad for encouraging my actions. 


Sometimes, after one of Eddie’s visits, I allow myself to hope, but only for a brief moment.


I still have many years to go before I’m free.


Free from the ghosts of Sturgeons.


Free from the shadow of Stickler Hill. 


Free from the prison I built for myself.

______________


Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words! 


Freak Out, 

JLH 


P.S. Click the pic ⤵️ to go back to the Prologue


Haunting sturgeons prologue

…or…


…go back to the VERY beginning… ⤵️


Darkening Sturgeons chapter 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~

My books & blogs…


http://thejlhcollective.blogspot.com/2018/03/the-collective.html

Tuesday, February 22, 2022

HAUNTING STURGEONS: Chapter Twenty-Six

Previously in this blog serial...


(Click here to read Chapter Twenty-Five


Now the HAUNTING continues...

______________


Haunting Sturgeons, chapter 26, by john L. Harmon

    I am gazing into the crisp morning sky.  An endless electric blue unfolds before my eyes as silence fills my ears.  I want to lose myself in this color, dissolve into its tranquility.  Create a world apart from the one I know, apart from the last ten years.  A world where  Sturgeons was never destroyed, where my family exists in a perfect moment. 


    My parents are standing together on our old front porch, healthy and fully aware.  They look at us with such happiness, so proud of their sons.  Tommy is alive, ten years older, but still youthful.  He is standing with Tracy at his side, each with an arm around the other.  I am standing with all of them, but I am not alone.  Eddie steps up from behind, wrapping me in a warm, comforting embrace.  


    Like my mother, I could stay in this fantasy forever, forgetting everything else.  Forget the shadow of Stickler Hill and what brought me here.  Forget the echoing thunder of a gunshot and what it means.  It would be so easy, but I can’t ignore what’s happening.  A steady voice suddenly calling out.  A warm dampness spreading over me.  A weight being removed from my body.  


    I lift my head, blue turning to a dark pool of red.  There is no fleeting moment of panic.  No frantic search for a wound.  I am strangely calm, even as I notice my father’s gun still clutched in my blood-soaked hands.  Releasing the weapon, it slides to the ground as I sit up.  The voice calls out again, strong and clear.


    “Hang in there, help is on the way.”


    Benjamin Straker is kneeling on the ground, wearing a black t-shirt.  His blue flannel is wadded up and pressed against the chest of Clyde Woodhouse.  The injured man is lying on his back, his body convulsing.  I take in the blood he has already lost and I understand.  There is no going back to my perfect fantasy.  No going back to Eddie.  There is only now and what I’ve done. 


    This is not what I want.  For all my resentment and anger, I chose to stop, to not pull the trigger.  What I want to do is say that I’m sorry.  Explain that it was an accident.  Swear that I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I choke with every attempt.  I know anything I say would sound empty and pointless, so it’s for the best.  My words will not take away the bullet or stop the bleeding.  


    Getting to my feet, I watch helplessly at the pain I’ve caused.  Straker’s expression is grave but determined, as if he believes his shirt will be enough to save a life.  I hope it is, but I see Clyde has become pale and motionless, crimson seeping from beneath the blue flannel.  Tears begin to fall from Straker’s eyes and I turn away, looking down at the gun resting in the grass and then at the blood on my hands. 


    My world suddenly contracts and I realize there is no one left.  My mother is lost in her mind, so she’ll never know what happened.  Eddie will certainly be done with me after he hears of this and I can’t trust his dad any longer.  I am alone and there is nothing I can do.  Nothing I can do but wait.  Wait for the authorities to arrive.  Wait to be escorted off Stickler Hill.  Wait for my new reality to begin.  

______________


The HAUNTING concludes in the…


Epilogue

  

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words! 


Freak Out, 

JLH 


~~~~~~~~~~~~

My books & blogs…


http://thejlhcollective.blogspot.com/2018/03/the-collective.html

Tuesday, February 15, 2022

HAUNTING STURGEONS: Chapter Twenty-Five

Previously in this blog serial...


(Click here to read Chapter Twenty-Four


Now the HAUNTING continues...

______________


Haunting Sturgeons, chapter 25, by john L. Harmon

    I am placing pressure on the trigger, its metal warm from my touch.  This is it.  This is the moment I have been preparing for since my father’s funeral.  The moment I finally release the last ten years.  My mother’s tears, my father’s rage and my brother’s final breath all narrowed into a single bullet.  A bullet that I will fire into the man who failed to protect us.  Fury swells up inside me, ready to destroy everyone in its path. 


    Straker will feel the pain of my father as the bullet hits between his pale brown eyes.  A spray of blood will shower me as his body crumples to the ground.  His life will fade away, nourishing the grass and the nearby trees with justice.  I will leave him here to haunt these woods, like Tommy was left, becoming just a memory. 


    Sam will say his late husband’s name, sitting on the edge of a bed in their empty home.  His hands will clutch a memorial folder as tears begin to fall again.  He will crawl onto the bed and hold a pillow close, trying to detect a lingering scent of the one who is gone.  Sam will sob into the pillow, heavy tears of despair, like my mother after losing Tommy.  


    Eddie will wake up alone, finding my letter on the nightstand.  He will sit on the edge of the motel bed, clutching my words.  Confusion will be extreme for Eddie, like mine after Tommy’s disappearance, until he hears of the body found on Stickler Hill.  Then maybe he will try to understand why I left.  Maybe Eddie will hear more from his father and be able to forgive me one day. 


    I feel the fury cresting, Straker standing motionless in front of me.  We are both waiting for this one-sided standoff to end.  One shot and done.  He will be dead, the consequence of his inaction ten years ago.  Then I’ll walk away and…I don’t know.  Hide myself from the world?  Take my own life?  How would that be fair?  Even with my letter, Eddie will always have more questions than answers.  Straker’s husband will always carry a profound sense of loss.  A loss I will have caused.  The enormity of what I’m about to do fully hits me and I can’t.  I can’t inflict the same pain that my parents experienced, the same pain I continue to feel.  Fury breaks, crashing and draining away as I remove my finger from the trigger. 


    There is something in Straker’s eyes as I begin slowly lowering my father’s gun.  Did he suspect I wasn’t going to shoot?  Was he hoping I would?  A bellowing voice interrupts my thoughts and I freeze, the gun pointing at Straker’s chest.  I look towards the commotion, barely comprehending the sight.  


    A short, stocky man is running up Stickler Hill.  His dirty blond hair shines in the sunlight, his eyes wide in panic or fear.  It takes me a moment to recognize that Clyde Woodhouse, my childhood police crush, is charging at me.  It seems like slow motion as he jumps forward, shoving me to the ground.  He is pinning me down and I instinctively struggle against his strength.  I free one hand and begin pushing him as he grabs for my father’s gun in the other.  Like impetuous children fighting over a toy, we wrestle for the deadly weapon.  I jerk my other arm free, somehow getting it twisted between us, which gives him opportunity.


    Clyde Woodhouse is wrenching the gun from my hand, a look of fierce determination in his hazel eyes.  Either out of survival or an unwillingness to part with my father’s final possession, I stop pushing to reinforce my grip with both hands.  Then I feel it, a sudden lurch, like a quick punch to my gut. Then I hear it, the severe crack of a gunshot ripping through my ears, gradually reverberating into silence. 

______________


The HAUNTING continues in… 


Chapter 26

   

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words! 


Freak Out, 

JLH 


~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please feel free to click around my ridiculously named online home… 🏠 


http://thejlhcollective.blogspot.com/2018/03/home.html


The JLH Collective .  The books and blogs of John L. Harmon


Tuesday, February 1, 2022

HAUNTING STURGEONS: Chapter Twenty-Three

Previously in this blog serial...


(Click here to read Chapter Twenty-Two


Now the HAUNTING continues...

______________


Haunting Sturgeons, chapter 23, by john L. Harmon

    I am walking among the trees, hazy shafts of light slicing down between branches.  Bird calls echo from above as unseen animals scurry under foliage with my every step.  The noise conjures up childhood fears of ghosts and demons lurking in every shadow.  I have to remind myself that Stickler Woods is only haunted by what happened ten years ago, what happened in Sturgeons and to Tommy..


    I imagine my brother continuing to lead me through the woods, staying several feet ahead.  There are questions I wish I could ask him.  Questions that I have asked him many times over the years.  Where exactly did you die?  What was your last thought?  Why didn’t you and Tracy go somewhere else?  Any answers disappeared with Tommy in these woods, along with so much else. 


    Sunlight pours down as I step into a clearing.  A large dead spot stretches out before me.  No grass or trees, no signs of life at all.  Even the birds seem to be staying away.  The ground has been torn up and leveled, like something was removed or buried.  I can’t help but think of the end of Straker’s book.  The psychopath’s mansion exploded and burned as the town was destroyed.  If this is where the dilapidated structure once stood, then the lawman is near.


    I imagine Tommy standing among the trees at the other end of the clearing.  He seems to be waiting for me as I cross the desolate area, feeling exposed in the morning sun.  I don’t want to be seen until I’m ready, so I feel relief as I reach my brother.  Tommy’s expression is grave as he tilts his head and looks up to his right.  I follow his gaze and plainly see what I already know.  I am at the foot of Stickler Hill.  


    Turning back to face Tommy, I find him gone.  My brother has traveled with me these last couple of days, finally leading me here.  Now I need to see this through on my own, but he will remain in my memories.  Tommy laughing as we speed through the streets of Sturgeons.  Skipping stones and talking with him at Lake Pontoon.  Tommy patiently teaching me card games at the dining room table.  So many good times to remember and cherish on another day.


    I turn and begin to ascend Stickler Hill at a steady pace, painful memories fueling my momentum.  My father yanking me away from Eddie.  My parents telling me that Tommy is gone.  My mother gazing off at nothing in her room.  Blood everywhere as I find my father dead in his recliner.  I pause halfway up, the trees thinning around me, and I see him.  I see the lawman standing on top of the world.


    He looks like a statue watching over the rebuilt town, which pisses me off.  I continue my ascent, fury pushing me forward.  Where was he when my brother disappeared?  Where was he when the entire town went to hell?  I picture him striding past my family’s car.  A beige-clad lawman walking with confidence, but not stopping to help us, to help anyone.  He didn’t give a shit then, so why is he bothering with Sturgeons now? 


    As I reach the top, I see the beige of the lawman is long gone as he gazes down at the town.  He is partially turned away from me, dressed in black jeans and a dark blue flannel shirt hanging loose.  Standing twelve feet away from him, I focus on his short brown hair greying at the temple and raise my father’s gun.


    “Straker!” 


    He slowly faces me, speaking in an even tone, “I’ve been expecting you, Jimmy Schroder.”  

______________


The HAUNTING continues in…


 


 

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words! 


Freak Out, 

JLH 


~~~~~~~~~~~~

Click the pic ⤵️ for more words from this indie author…


Multiple images of me


Tuesday, January 25, 2022

HAUNTING STURGEONS: Chapter Twenty-Two

Previously in this blog serial...


(Click here to read Chapter Twenty-One


Now the HAUNTING continues...

______________


Haunting Sturgeons, chapter 22, by john L. Harmon

    I am driving through the empty streets of Sturgeons.  Dawn is slowly breaking around me, casting the town in a faint grey light.  A dog barks somewhere in the distance and I wonder if this is what it was like for them.  For Tommy and Tracy as they drove to their sunrise breakfast.  Was the town this peaceful that morning?  Maybe too peaceful. 


    An occasional glow from a house shines as bright as the passing streetlights.  I imagine early risers waking up to coffee, maybe thinking of starting breakfast while gazing out the window.  Surely there are suspicious eyes watching from behind curtains, wondering who I am and where I’m going.  Did anyone wonder about Tommy and Tracy?  Perhaps anyone who saw them just shook their heads, thankful it wasn’t their own kids sneaking off for a tryst. 


    According to the lawman’s questionable book, there had only been one reported disappearance before Tommy.  There was no reason for people to panic yet, no reason for anyone to call the police on them for their protection.  I wonder if Tommy and Tracy knew about that first incident as they drove through town.  Did they sense something wrong in Sturgeons or were they too busy being in love or lust?  Too young to care?  I wish I could be that kind of young.  If I was, I would still be in bed with Eddie.  


    I shake my head at the thought, knowing what needs to be done, for my parents and for Tommy.  I imagine my brother sitting in the passenger seat, his expression set firm in determination.  He is staring straight ahead, the pavement disappearing beneath my car.  An inclined dirt road stretches out, houses becoming sporadic as the trees thicken.  Not the fresh young ones from in town, but old trees.  The silent witnesses to what happened ten years ago. 


    Taking a left, I leave the dirt road for more of a path, just a couple of tire ruts with grass in between.  I am in Stickler Woods and it’s as unsettling as I remember.  The densely packed trees strangle the breaking dawn while my car’s headlights throw malformed shadows into motion.  No wonder I thought these woods were haunted when I was a kid.  


    Slowing down, I focus on what’s unfolding on the path in front of me.  A small animal suddenly comes into view and I hit the brakes.  The rough-looking possum stares at my car, like it’s sizing up an intruder.  I watch the rodent as it raises a claw, poised for attack.  After a few minutes, the possum puts its claw down and scurries away.  Maybe it sensed I’m not a threat.  Well, at least not an immediate one.  I continue driving, but stop again when what I’ve been searching for appears in my headlights.


    A dark pick-up truck is parked several feet ahead, its out-of-state plates matching the information given to me by Harold Newcastle.  The vehicle definitely belongs to Straker and I question if he is sitting in there.  It’s hard to see inside, but I need to make sure.  I turn and imagine Tommy glancing at my duffel bag in the backseat and then facing me.  Giving my brother a nod, I grab what I need and leave my car.


    I slowly approach the lawman’s truck, preparing for a confrontation.  Using my phone’s flashlight, I cautiously peer into the passenger side window.  The cab is empty, except for a half-eaten bag of chips and an old paperback of Crime and Punishment Signs of life, but how much life?  Is he alone?  Harold Newcastle said, He’s in town, but it was dark.  Maybe he missed something.  Did the lawman bring his husband or his former police partner with him?  Whether he is alone or not, I’ve come too far to turn back now.  


    Turning away from the truck, I stare at the surrounding trees.  Even as hazy light begins struggling through the branches, a foreboding atmosphere persists.  This is where my brother experienced his final moments of joy and terror, his final moments of life.  This is where I need to be.  I imagine Tommy walking deeper into Stickler Woods, pausing briefly to look back at me.  Taking a deep breath, I follow him, knowing he will lead me to the lawman.

 ______________


The HAUNTING continues in…

  

Chapter 23


Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words! 


Freak Out, 

JLH 


~~~~~~~~~~~~

Click the pic ⤵️ for more about me… 

Miss Kitty and a freak

Tuesday, January 18, 2022

HAUNTING STURGEONS: Chapter Twenty-One

 Previously in this blog serial...


(Click here to read Chapter Twenty


Now the HAUNTING continues...

______________


Haunting Sturgeons, chapter 21, by john L. Harmon

    I am standing in front of the window, staring into the early morning darkness.  Somewhere out there, beyond this motel room, waits Stickler Hill.  I can feel its presence pulling at me, but I need to wait.  Wait until I receive the text telling me it’s time.  I look down at the silent phone clutched in my hand and then I turn and glance at the bed.  


    Eddie is still sound asleep, a distant streetlight faintly illuminating his serene face.  The white envelope resting on the nightstand beside him seems to glow.  He will eventually read how much he means to me while I admit to lying about my parents.  I also apologize for leaving him, writing that I need to enter Stickler Woods to face what happened to my brother.  It’s not a lie, more of a lack of complete truth.  What I don’t say in my letter weighs heavy on me, the guilt gnawing at my mind.  How can I fully explain who brought me back to Sturgeons and how my return was set in motion after my father’s funeral?  I close my eyes, standing in memories.  


    Silence assaulted my ears as I walked through my parents’ empty house.  My mother was safely in the psychiatric ward a few miles away, but her crying still echoed through the rooms.  My father was buried in the nearby cemetery, but his rage was still prominent in the dried blood I had yet to clean up.  I tapped a polished dress shoe against an empty bottle of booze, its transparency marred by a splatter of crimson.  He had emptied the bottle before he shot himself, but that wasn’t a surprise.


    The surprise came from a dull chime on the other side of my father’s brown recliner.  I stepped carefully around the stains in the carpet and found his cell phone.  The bloodied tech was face down and I just stared at it, unsure what to do.  Did my father’s right to privacy die with him?  Curiosity got the best of me and I picked it up and checked the notification.


    There was a text, just a simple message asking my father how he was doing.  I was confused to see the question was from Harold Newcastle.  Had my parents ever mentioned him in their countless conversations and arguments?  They mentioned Eddie on several occasions, but never his dad, at least not while I was eavesdropping.  I scrolled back through the texts between Harold and my father and it quickly became apparent that hatred over Benjamin Straker fueled their friendship.


    Multiple texts called the lawman incompetent, blaming him for not stopping the disappearances.  They even accused Straker of willfully allowing the fall of Sturgeons.  There were also exchanges about how Tracy, her parents and Tommy would be here if Lawrence had still been sheriff back then, how he had been a good, solid man who would’ve set things right if he hadn’t also disappeared.  Then one message caught my eye.  It was a reminder for my father that Straker returns to Sturgeons on the anniversary of its destruction and how it would be a good time to confront the bastard.  


    The angry words blazed before my eyes, igniting a vague notion in my mind.  My fingers hovered above the screen for what seemed like hours before I started to type.  It was a short message, stating it was me and that my father was dead.  He immediately expressed condolences and placed the blame on the lawman.  In that moment, surrounded by painful memories and dried blood, I agreed with Harold Newcastle.  


    I open my eyes, standing in the motel room.  My phone silently vibrates in my hand, but I focus on Eddie instead.  I don’t know if I’ll see him again, so I want to remember him this way.  Sleeping peacefully, his dark hair mussed up and a gentle smile forming his lips.  Handsome and happy because he is unaware of my lies and what his father just texted me.


He’s in town  


    I type a quick acknowledgement and then shove the necessary evil into my pocket.  Grabbing up my duffel bag, I look out the window and imagine Tommy standing there in the faint hint of dawn.  He gives me a beckoning wave as he turns away, walking in the direction of Stickler Hill.  It’s time.  Time to leave Eddie and this temporary home.  Time to follow my brother into those haunted woods.  Time to finally face the lawman.

______________


The HAUNTING continues in…


Chapter 22

   

Thank you for reading or listening to my half-blind words! 


Freak Out, 

JLH 


~~~~~~~~~~~~

Click the pic ⤵️ for more about my… 


Books & blogs