Dastardly Bastard (26 page)

Straightening his shoulders, he leaned into the microphone. “Hello, everybody. My name is Donald Adams. I have been writing under the penname H.R. Chatmon for the past ten years. I am here to answer all questions you might have about that.”

The mass erupted in shouted voices and raised hands. Up and over the crowd, Donald found a center of interest on the back wall. She stood, hands clasped in front of her, the overhead lights making her eyes twinkle, a broad smile about her face.

You good man, Donald Adams
.

I know that
, Donald returned.
Now
.

She began to fade, until finally, Donald could no longer see her. Sunne was gone. But not forgotten.

“Yes.” Donald pointed at one of the anxious reporters in the front row. “You first.”

54

MARK SIMMONS QUIT HIS JOB. The look on Willy Montgomery’s face was thoroughly worth it. Mark’s nemesis, Julia, had decided to sue the company for sexual harassment, and the newspaper was going to take a serious hit. Mark had always known not to shit where he ate. Willy had not taken that into consideration. Julia looked to ruin everything, and for the first time ever, Mark hoped the bitch succeeded.

He sat in that same plastic seat at the airport, mulling over his plans. The USO had taken him on as a publicity photographer. He would spend the rest of his career helping an organization that gave back to the troops. The idea put a warm spot in the middle of his chest.

Annabelle was a distant memory, but he thought about her from time to time, not the version missing half her skull, but the pretty one who had helped him find reality back in that house. She would stay with him forever. One of the good ones.

Mark pulled his carryon into his lap. He had an entire hour to kill before boarding. Unzipping his bag, Mark grabbed the book from under his pile of snacks and toiletries.

The cover had a bloody laptop on it. Above the computer, in bold italic horror script, was the title,
eMurder
. The author’s name was listed as H.R. Chatmon. The flyleaf description made it sound like a hell of a good story. Mark had never really cared too much for horror, but he figured nothing could be more terrifying than what he’d lived through back at the chasm. Plus, it had been on sale at the gift shop, so he figured he would give a new author a chance.

He flipped to the first page and was about to turn to the first chapter, but the dedication stopped him.

For Sunne. Gone but not forgotten.

“You little sonuvabitch.”

Mark Simmons laughed, probably too hard, but he didn’t care.

He began to read.

THE END

So told is the tale of how they prevailed,

The five who denied the Bastard his pride.

Though bear in mind, as you live out your lives,

If the Bastard returns, your mem’ries he’ll find.

Should the good ones defect, and the shadows collect,

Burn them, child, before they infect.

Venture aware through his one-eyed stare,

The Dastardly Bastard is here
and
there…

About the Author

EDWARD LORN IS AN AMERICAN horror author presently residing somewhere in the southeast United States.

He enjoys storytelling, reading, and writing biographies in the third person.

Other Books by Edward Lorn

Bay’s End

Three After