Shane McIntire

Visions of things to come…

Here it is.

The cover to my newest novel, The Pagoda, has just been sent to me by Solstice Publishing, and I can say, quite honestly, that I absolutely love it!

The scene depicted in the image perfectly captures a significant moment for The Pagoda’s central character, a scene that I hope stays with the reader for many, many years…. But that’s later. Let’s talk about now.

Within the next few days, I will be releasing the novel’s prologue, which sets the mood for the rest of the tale and will hopefully peak your interest for what lies ahead. Perhaps by the time you’ve discovered this, it will already be available to read as a blog post on this site.

 

The time had come to say the words she longed never  to hear, but she said them anyway.

Goodbye, Tokyo.

 

So… What comes next?

The Graveyard on the Hill was, in my opinion, a success for me, but what comes next will be even bigger in every way! The Pagoda, my next novel, will be released by Solstice Publishing, and I am beyond excited at this point. It will take some time, but in the near future, I will certainly have more material here for that book, as well as where it can be found.

But for now, please enjoy the content that’s here:

 

 

Pre-Order on Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B073TKXG9X/ref=pd_rhf_dp_p_img_1?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=ZZMPDPYKCF7P62V3BZWW

Purchase on Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1521797633/ref=la_B073VKW8QW_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1499934947&sr=1-2

 

A Synopsis in Brief:

After the murder of their brother-in-law, James Bishop and his wife Elizabeth attempt to reconcile their lives and live with the consequences of their actions, all while coexisting with Molly; Elizabeth’s sister and the perpetrator of this crime. After a particularly brutal assault, Molly kills Rick in self-defense and rather than call the police, Elizabeth makes a snap decision to cover-up the crime. Elizabeth would rather hide the body than risk the possibility of her sister being punished for doing what she feels was the right thing to do.

All has gone well, the body is hidden and yet, Elizabeth and James find themselves further tormented by the steps they have taken. Reality bending dreams and nightmares plague their every waking moment and when they sleep, things only seem to get worse. Elizabeth sees and herself being swallowed by shadows and James is continually tormented by a place where he once found tranquility.

Is it merely guilty thoughts that torture them? Or are greater forces reaching out from beyond the grave? As James and Elizabeth discover the meaning and depth of the human conscience, they continue to face the trials of day-to-day life as a young married couple in America while having to live with the guilt of their actions.

The Graveyard on the Hill is a novel of psychological horror, examining themes of domestic abuse, guilt, paranoia, and redemption with elements of the paranormal.

 

A Glimpse of The Graveyard on the Hill:

Chapter 2

Rick’s body was lying on the floor. Nothing but the hilt was protruding from his chest. Blood had slowly seeped out of the wound and onto the floor. Molly was sitting in the rest of the puddle and Liz was crouched next to her, trying comfort her. Elizabeth, who was usually so full of life looked something like a vampire, with all of the color drained from her face as she looked up at him. James’s eyes felt as if they would fall out of his head at the sight. He had seen a dead body before, though he had not anticipated seeing one in his kitchen. He didn’t need to ask the question judging by the bruise on Molly’s face which was a particularly nasty plum color and about the size of a peach, but it came naturally.

“What happened?”

“I’d had enough,” said Molly, barking the words through anger and sorrow and tears. “He had too much, he, he tried- to take me.”

On the last words she began crying hysterically, to a point where James wasn’t really sure if she was crying or laughing. James motioned a little farther into the room, being careful not to step in anything and peered directly over the body.

Rick was dead alright, no questioning that.

By the looks of it, the knife had taken him directly in the heart. Rick had been wearing a dull, faded blue sweatshirt, now more black than blue, drenched in his own lifeblood. Molly was still sitting, cross-legged in the growing puddle. She was looking down at her work, with a bizarre satisfaction and dread horror washing over her face. Elizabeth, after some time and effort had managed to get Molly up, out of the kitchen and into the bathroom.

“Wait,” she said and quickly moved back to the kitchen area, where James was looking over the body once more. “What the hell do we do now?” Elizabeth asked, her voice cracked with this question.

“Molly murdered him.”

“And? He beat her and tried to rape her.”

“The Police will understand,” James began to reach for his phone, but Elizabeth grabbed him quickly.

“And what if they don’t?” She was nervous now, that was obvious. “Can’t we-”

“Can we what?”

“Get rid of it?” James looked down at the body then and the plan formed in his head as if out of nowhere. The shower for Molly, the garbage bags for the body, the duct tape to seal the bags, the shovel, the trunk. It all came together quickly. And somehow, he felt Liz would already know all of this as well.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“Yes”, she said, “I’ll get the bleach.” To clean the floor, he knew at once.

 

As she left the kitchenette area of their home she paused to look at their reflection in the window before closing the shutters. It wasn’t just dark, it was black. The darkness of the hour was surreal and she could see nothing in the window panes but themselves with it pooling all around them, like the blood around the body on the floor. The room was illuminated solely by an overhanging light, distorted and thrown by the fan blades moving through the air. She saw nothing but their reflections and darkness and eternity.

The Blinds! The realization hit Elizabeth at once. She leapt to them pulling the cord down, blinds flipping violently with a snap. Had anyone seen the body? No… The police would have been here by now. The small home they all had shared featured large a large bay window that faced the home of a well-meaning, polite elderly couple named the Masons. Both were hard of hearing but had sharp eyes.

James had watched her from his peripherals. He looked strangely calm. Shock effects people in different ways, some weep, some act. Elizabeth knew what they had to do.

 

Chapter 3

James could hear the shower water running as they began to move the body. Cleaning the mess was not nearly as easy as the TV had made it look. Despite seeing himself as a strong man, it took all of his strength with Elizabeth’s to lift the body. The crusty layer of congealed blood that clotted the wound broke and a fresh torrent of blood was released. The smell nearly made James nearly retch and Rick’s arms slipped from his. Elizabeth held her end as Rick’s upper body splashed in the pool that had grown under him. He knew her job would be a lot harder now that flecks of blood were probably on ever surface of the kitchen, instead of just the mass on the floor.

It had been James’s idea to create a makeshift body bag from garbage bags and duct tape. James and Elizabeth heaved the body from the kitchen into the foyer between the dining room and the living room. There was more room to work with here. Elizabeth, walking backwards, holding Rick by the ankles noticed the trail and cursed under her breath. James turned and saw the blood still steadily leaking from the wound, now covering his shoes and pants as well.

“Make sure to collect all of her clothes too, they’ll need to go as well,” James said.

Using the fire pit in the backyard for their clothes had been Elizabeth’s idea. James had wanted to collect all of the clothes and take them with him, to bury them or burn them in the desert. Elizabeth had caught the flaw in this quickly. A fire would attract too much attention and burying their clothing with the body would only leave evidence should someone discover it. The fire pit might leave some evidence at the scene, but at least this way Elizabeth was in control making sure nothing was left but ashes. They began by stripping Rick and placing his clothes in a fifth garbage bag in the corner of the room.

Rick had not been a very tall man so the two had no trouble fitting him into two garbage bags, one for each end. They decided to repeat the process once more and use an entire roll of duct tape at the center to seal the four bags as one. James’ Nissan was parked just outside in the garage. Now that the risk of more blood was out of the way, the two lifted the lifeless husk over their shoulders and into the garage. They knelt in unison and the bag slide to the floor gently.

James opened the garage door, made swift but broken K-Turn in the street and backed into the driveway quickly enough that he nearly hit Elizabeth.

“Drive like that and police will have you quicker than you made that shitty turn.”

“There are no police around here this time of night,” James responded quickly, avoiding her eyes.

Elizabeth bent and was up quickly. She popped the truck, knelt again, helped James lift the body and place it in the trunk.

“How far out do you plan on going?”

“Not far,” he responded, attempting to sound tougher than he was, sure of his failure to do so. “Probably no further than state line”. She nodded and slammed the trunk. Back inside the house, James began to remove his clothes, placing them in the garbage bag. His uniform had become soiled with dark red blood. He only had one other uniform but the risk was too great and ordering another would not be too big of problem. While approaching the bedroom at the back of the house his pace quickened as he realized that they had spent a great of time with moving the body. Out of reflex, he checked his watch and saw that the Seiko still read 10:27pm before he tossed it in the bag with the rest of his uniform, which now sported a large drop of blood on the face.

The bedroom was small and depressingly resembled his closet at the office complex. Sparingly furnished, dark green walls and a plush white carpet (this being the room’s only luxury). A queen size bed, sunken in with a severely cracked box spring was pushed against the far wall and adjacent to this was a dresser that contained most of James’s wardrobe. He changed as quickly as possible into an extremely worn pair of jeans and a long sleeve gray t-shirt to match, knowing these too would have to burn upon his return.

He walked to the garage in his socks, where he found a pair of work boots that had been left with the home, presumably his grandfather’s. Size 14. James’s feet, being a size 12, never quite filled out the massive boots, but they would do for this job and would need burning as well. While he had been in the bedroom changing, Elizabeth had found a shovel and small pick axe on shelving, near a large assortment of tools, most of which James never had any use for. His grandfather had been a carpenter, and a man’s man beside. She was setting them in the trunk, across the top of the body bag as he reentered the garage.

In the reopened trunk, the makeshift body bag resembled clothes being dropped off for good will.

“Are you ready?”  Elizabeth asked the question carefully, with a controlled voice.

“About as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Where was Molly? Was the water still running?”

Was the water still running? James had been intensely focused on getting some clothes for the road that he never even thought to check on Molly. Damnit! This was one of those little things he had missed frequently that made him feel like a moron, as if every one of life’s failures came back to his lack of observational skills. Had that been why he failed the police tests? He came back to that moment slowly, Elizabeth was staring, waiting for a response.

“Yes- Um, wait, no,” he responded too late. Molly was in the doorway, looking at the makeshift body bag and the shovel. The look of horror-induced shock was still frozen on her face, the clothes she wore now were mismatched and disheveled.

“I don’t think I meant to do this,” she started. “He wasn’t always bad… Sometimes he’d,” she began, quickly cut off by Elizabeth.

“He was going to rape you, might’ve even killed you.”

“I know, but still, he- I just wanted him to stop! I,” she began again.

“Enough!” Elizabeth was on her again, “you need rest. Let us handle this.”

Before Molly could utter another word, Elizabeth had her turned around and walked her back into the house. Elizabeth gave James one final look as the door was shutting. He knew what the look had meant.

Time to get to work.

Shutting the trunk, he moved around the car to the driver side door, and turned the ignition key once more.

Jackson Browne was on the radio now. Some song from Late for the Sky, he was sure. The Sky and the Road he thought. He pulled out of the garage, the door shutting behind him, the road before him. Let’s get it done, he thought briskly.

 

Chapter 4

The blood was much harder to clean than she had anticipated. I wonder if James is having this hard of a time with the hole. Getting Molly into bed was easy, at least. Especially with all of the Advil, crushed into her water. Mixed with Alka-Seltzer, Elizabeth had hoped she wouldn’t notice and for what it’s worth, she didn’t seem to.

Molly had relaxed quickly enough and fallen into a deep sleep. Exhaustion must have been a factor as well. Liz had walked back to the kitchen and began mopping with paper towels, using the same bag as the clothes for disposal.

Two rolls of Bounty later and most of it was up. That was, all of the blood that had not yet dried.

And unfortunately, it had a tendency to dry quickly.

That was reserved for the bleach. Simple Green proved useful here as well. She soaked the floor with the two cleaning agents, and sat for a short reprieve.

The timer on the stove told her it was nearly four in the morning. How could the time have gone this fast? Time flies when you’re having fun? She knew immediately how ridiculous that sounded, but it was at least in part true. James had been more outspoken of his hatred of Rick but in all likelihood Liz might have killed the man herself had Molly not done this for her.

Liz worked long hours as a schoolteacher. 4^th grade. She was writing lesson plans when Rick and Molly’s fight had grown loud enough for her to hear over her headphones. The crazy ideas we have in college, when teaching small children had sounded appealing. Liz opened the door to the bedroom, leaving her laptop on the bed. Making her way down the hall, she heard yells, the punch, and the knife plunging into Rick’s heart. The Bastard’s Heart, as James would have said.

There was a gentle swoosh in the air, punctuated by a sickening thud as the blade parted the skin all the way to the handle. It was a disturbing sound, listening to him die… He had fallen straight back, with nothing breaking his fall. Molly held on to the blade and his weight carried her down over top him. Elizabeth froze watching this scene. His body had jerked, arms flailing trying desperately to hold on, reaching out for something, his life most likely. That was sometime before James arrived home. And Elizabeth knelt over the scene cradling Molly. Watching and waiting for him to bleed out.

Elizabeth got up from the floor, unrolled some more paper towels, and mopped the floor. The Simple Green/bleach mix made the dry blood wipe away perfectly clean. She smiled at this, knowing that her job would not be too much more difficult. She had to stop momentarily, as the sight of the blood coming away clean may have been a beautiful thing at this hour, but the smell certainly wasn’t. Walking to blinds, she stuck her hands through the center, finding the latches at the top and bottom of the window. One half of the window slid to the left, going behind its other half. The early morning breeze felt nice and relieved some of the stench.

She then moved back to the remainder of the blood on the floor, using nearly a third roll of paper towels to finish soaking up what had welled on the floor. The garbage bag was becoming heavier, with the combined weight of paper towels along with Rick’s, James’, and Molly’s clothes, which Liz noticed contained surprisingly had very little blood, considering she was the one who stuck the knife in him. Molly had changed on her own, and left her clothes on the floor of the bathroom, where Liz collected them.

As she made to throw them into the bag, she noticed something sliding down the inside of the bag. Reaching for it, she realized what it was. James’s watch. The watch I had given him. They couldn’t afford to give each other much, but she had saved for it and gave it to him for his birthday. Now it was sitting in a bag, a large drop of blood covered its face. She held it in her hands, trying to make out the time through its dark red tint. The hands were not moving, she noticed. It was my gift to him. Rick often made James irritable, angry and withdrawn.

It had taken a lot of work to maintain the relationship strained by. Deciding not to burn it, she set it on the counter. She would clean it later, have the frozen hands fixed. Rick would not take that from them, she decided.

The knife had been left in the body until it came time to disrobe him. Most of the blood had gushed out of his back when Molly stuck the knife in him. Elizabeth had been the one who pulled the knife from the body on the floor, just after they had lifted the head and the torso into the bag, to shield the house from anymore blood, should anymore pour out.

The knife in question had been the largest knife of their only collection, formerly sheathed in a wooden holder before Molly had sheathed it in Rick’s chest, only the tip of the blade had stuck out the other side. He really was skinny. The knife was one of the only things that she decided did not need to be disposed of. She walked to sink where she had placed it. Closing off the drain, Liz ran the water on hot and let it fill as she removed the lid off of the dish soap and watched as the now steaming water began to submerge the blade. Flakes began to float away from the bloody weapon as she poured some soap into the basin. Soon white suds completely covered the surface of the water. Content with the results, she turned the water off and walked outside to start the fire.

 

Chapter 5

Despite the coolness of the night, sweat poured from his face. He was only in the car for an hour before he found a spot he liked, just off the highway. James noticed the large rock formation. It provided cover from the north and southbound sides of the highway, about 30 miles outside the city. The rush of the events when he arrived home had jolted him awake, but he began to feel tired once more. He could’ve sworn at least once that noises were coming from the trunk. He plugged the radio. Only silence there; nothing more. The radio came back on. He drove on.

He spent roughly an hour of his time at the rock alternating between picking and digging. Back-breaking work. Thank God I went to college. And that was a joke in and of itself. James had not found one decent job since he left the school with a bachelor’s degree and roughly $30,000 worth of debt. He had wanted to sell the house, pay the debts and start over. Liz would not let him. It’s beautiful, it’s the start of our future together. He never could resist her.  No matter how hard he tried.

The couple met in college, on common grounds. He was studying Criminal Justice, she was studying English and Education. They were both first to the class. They sat together in the hall just outside the Chem lab and decided to be partners if they were allowed a choice. They were. James had first noticed her charm the moment she said hello. The color of her hair poised somewhere between brown and blond. Liz’s green eyes stared into his. It wasn’t long before things seemed to fall into place. They talked away the rainy evening. Other students came and went. The class, which had been scheduled for 6pm, never started. The instructor was a no-show. They didn’t care. Not a moment was wasted. After exchanging numbers, they parted, agreeing to meet at the same the following week.

Those times made him smile. It seemed so long ago and yet he was able to relive it all in a heartbeat, thinking about it from time to time.

It even inspired him to write poetry, though he was no poet. After writing the poems he often found himself reading them aloud to her, imitating some bard from a medieval movie he saw. She laughed, she smiled, she loved. And so did he.

After the hole was dug, he managed to gain a second wind, quickly moving downhill and around the corner of the rock in the pitch black, dropping the body in the hole with sickening thud. There was a crunch of what may or may not have been some bones breaking. He found a flashlight under the seat of the car and propped it against the rock. This let off just enough light to make out what he was doing without being spotted from the road.

Upon returning to the body lying in the bottom of the hole, he began to feel a queer chill. The excitement and shock of the evening were beginning to wan, he knew at once. The realization of what he was actually doing in the early morning hours just off Highway 95 in the middle of the desert was finally sinking in. James rested for a moment just against the rock, near the light. Leaning back, he shut his eyes. He did not fear falling asleep, his heart was still beating much too fast for that.

Then he heard another audible crunch.

The crackling of rocks. Someone else is here. He ripped the flashlight from its hold, and clicked it off. Standing still, heart beating ever faster, he glanced around quickly. Left to right, right to left. He saw nothing. Only darkness. The crunch came again. Much slower this time, less of gravelly sound. Yet this was far more sinister. James knew, at once where he had heard the sound coming from.

He lurched towards the hole, clicked the flashlight on again and looked down. The bag was still there. It had not moved, at least not that he could tell. He continued to stare as if mesmerized. As the time passed, he decided to continue with his already grim, ghastly work. The man was dead. All of the blood, the clammy skin. He had to be dead.

James backed up slowly, with the light still focused on the hole, until his back touched the rock wall. He placed the light back in the hold he had found for it. James collected the shovel, and as if to bury his thoughts, began the arduous process of pushing the earthen remains back into its rightful place.

After filling in the dirt and smaller rocks over the body, he returned the pick to the car. Before grabbing the flashlight, he used to the shovel as a rake, to cover the spot as well as he could. The grave would never look the same as it did before the dig, but he had to hope it was good enough to pass. Time would do the rest. Collecting the flashlight, he used it walk back to the car, carrying the shovel in his other arm with the pick underneath. He tried to walk carefully, but realized he would be able to do nothing about the footprints he left behind. Placing shovel back in the trunk, he went back to the front of the car, made a U-turn and drove south.

Back home.