Exceptional First part of a tale of horror and suspence. Lot 382 Chapter 1: Part One by RaymondJohn The second half will be posted shortly

Category:  Humor Fiction   Posted:  April 1, 2008      Views: 769 Chapters: 1 2

RAYMONDJOHN  IN PRINT   ABOUT RAYMONDJOHN  Raymond John is a hopeless FanStory addict who has at times spent as many as twelve hours in a single day reading, reviewing and writing for the site. His three purposes are based on three "Es" which are Explain, Enlighten and Entertain. His greatest fear is to take himself too seriously. He may not always smile, but he always has a twinkle in his eye. Knock his socks off with a fantastic write and he'll be your best cheerleader and give you a banner award, to boot. He has written two novels and numerous short works. His first book, The Cellini Masterpiece, has sold nearly 3,000 copies and received an Honorable Mention in the 2006 IPPY awards. It is now available in a Kindle edition from Amazon.com. An audio version (ISBN 9780615268125) is now available read by the renown actor, James Cada. MP3 edition, downloadable for IPOD, is 14.95. Order at www.raymondjohnbooks.com. His second mystery, Mix and Match Murder, which was originally scheduled for release in September of 2008 is now in print and available from Amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com and North Star Press. A scholar born in the golden age of radio, Raymond always appreciates hearing a well-told story, especially one with action and believable dialogue in a historical setting. I have written and received many reviews. I have a thick skin, so if constructive criticism is forthcoming, bring it on. He has won several contests. The contest submission Mousie, Kittie and Booger was the first place winner in the contest Tales of the Weird.. Gold In Them Thar Words was the first place winner in the contest Tales of the Weird.. Lot 386 was the first place winner in the contest Tales of the Weird.. He is a top ranked author and is currently holding the #22 position. Portfolio | Become A Fan Greg's Auction Sales was a shop in a 1940s vintage complex comparable to a modern strip mall. Usually these buildings started out as a grocery, drug store and bakery, but over the years many tenants had moved in and out. The grocery endured, becoming one of the oldest in western Minneapolis, but the drug store and bakery went through several transformations. When Greg took over, it had last been a coffee shop. I got to know Greg fairly quickly. I had a passion for antiques and loved to gawk. For his part, Greg seemed to enjoy my company. He had bushy red hair, a drooping left eyelid, and usually wore flannel. His clothes had a musky odor, often punctuated by the aroma of oranges or red curry. At a very young age he had been a world traveler and picked up furniture and bric-a-brac that pleased him. It turned out he had a good eye, and when he lost his job with 3M, he decided to open an antiques auction house. It seemed a bit foolish to me. The store had had new tenants every year for the last five years and looked a tad worse for wear after each of them departed. The awning, which still read Miller's Drugs, had sizable flaps in the rotting canvas, and the carpet was a mish-mash of unmatched remnants. In other words, just the kind of place an antiquer loves to shop. But Greg's clients didn't come from the neighborhood. He advertised regularly in the antiques trade papers and on the web and had customers all around the world. I mentioned he had a good eye. Choice pieces in the first sale, like the N-size Howard pocket watch, brought in bidders from across America and the rest of the world. It finally sold on the floor for more than fifteen thousand dollars to a jubilant German. That was just one lot. The sale attracted more than a hundred bidders--more than the store could hold so some had to stay out in the street--and netted him more than one hundred thousand dollars. Just about the entire neighborhood turned out to watch from a distance. They gaped in amazement. The last ice cream social hadn't drawn such a big crowd. The coffee shop across the street had a record night of sales for cappucinos and biscotti. I only bid on a couple of lots and bought a pair of azure and Majolica art deco vases for three hundred fifty. I thought they would sell for one bid over the one-hundred-twenty-five dollar opener. No such luck. Bidding went up rapidly from there. After the sale, I stayed around to talk with my new friend. "Nice sale," I said. "The floor really surprised me." "It surprised me too. The full-page ad in the 'Antique Times' must have had an impact. You live around here?" "Three blocks away. I was wondering, do you sell by private treaty? I noticed some other things that weren't in the auction that I might be interested in buying." "Maybe. What are you talking about?" I led him to a brick-and-boards shelf at the rear of the store. Water dripped somewhere behind the wall and two flies chased each other across the board. "This," I said, pointing at an ten-inch tall piece of stone that look and felt like rose quartz. Though the stone was extremely hard it had been sculpted into some unidentifiable unpleasant creature with an open mouth. Inside, a man struggled against the fangs to get out. I had no idea what is was or where it came from, but it looked as if it could have been Innuit art. Greg shook his head. "Can't help you. It's been consigned. It came in too late for this auction, so it'll come up next time." "When's that?" "In a month or two. I've got money, but my wagon is pretty much empty from the sale. I'm flying to England next week. I should have some things when I come back." "Who consigned it?" "It used to belong to some old guy that lived in the neighborhood. Neighbors say he was around when McKinley got shot. I doubt it, but he had quite a few interesting things. Somehow he had gotten hold of a dozen Bauhaus art-deco postcards that are worth a couple of thousand dollars each. I've never even seen them before." He stopped and pointed at an oil painting portrait of an old woman in a cloche hat clutching a chicken. "That's one of the oils. They should all bring well into five figures each." He stopped and massaged at his drooping eyelid. "Funny thing. The carving was all by itself in a locked glass case in the basement. I almost missed it when I went through the house. There wasn't a light there and I found it with my lantern." "Ugly, isn't it?" I said. Whatever the creature was had deepset eyes. "You still have that flashlight?" "Sure. What do you want it for?" "I want to take a closer look. The light isn't very good here." He sauntered back to his desk and came back with a large lantern. "I use this when I take a look in the basements and attics. It comes in handy." He turned it on and handed it to me. I pointed it at the statue and we both jumped.The shadow the long head with its pointed ears cast on the wall made my skin crawl. After a moment to catch my breath, I shined the beam directly at the creature's eyes. Even though the rest of the face lit up brightly, the light couldn't fathom the depth of the eyes. Taking another deep breath, I squatted and turned the light to its mouth. The head inside was perfectly carved to show a look of abject terror on its captive's face. The eyes, wide and staring, were identical to those of its captor. The mouth stood open, either in a scream or a plea. Intentionally or by accident, the left half of its nose was missing. "Fascinating, isn't it," Greg said. I nodded. "Yes. For the life of me I can't understand why anyone would want it, but I really like it." "I do too, but I keep it where I don't have to look at it. I'm afraid I wouldn't get any work done if I did." "What do you think it is?" "The creature or the manufacturer?" "The maker." "Native American of some kind. Northwest Indian I'm pretty sure. I sent a scan off to Christie's to see if they can help. I haven't heard from them yet." I turned off the lantern and handed it back to him. "Congratulations on your auction. If you'd like, I'll buy you an Irish Cream Latte. They make it with Bailey's in the coffee shop across the street." "Deal." I kept my eye on the monstrous statue as he put the lantern away and laid the money and financial records into the safe in the floor. "All set," he said. I came back the next day. Greg greeted me and I again borrowed his lantern. Old Ugly was there waiting for me. I still couldn't identify the creature, and would have a difficult time trying to describe it to someone who had not seen it. The look of malevolence still appalled and attracted me at the same time. Whoever or whatever was in its mouth looked absolutely terrified. It, at least, was easily identifiable as being human. Bending forward to take a closer look, I felt the muscles of my stomach tighten. Something had changed. I was sure of it. What, I couldn't tell. As I studied it closer, I got the impression that the monster's jaws had closed somewhat from their original position. Impossible, of course, but it certainly looked like I could see less of the captive's face. I had to be sure. I left the lantern with Greg and walked the short distance to my house. I had just paid more than a thousand dollars for a digital camera because I needed one to photograph the gems I collected, and it had a fantastic closeup lens. When I returned, Greg gave me a surprised look as I walked in. "What's up?" he asked. "I thought you'd gone home for the day." "I just want to get a good picture of our friend. I could swear it looked different this time." Greg's eyes, including the sleepy one, opened wide. "What do you mean?" "I'm not sure. It just seems to have changed somehow. I know how foolish that must sound." Greg unexpectedly reached out a hand and took my left wrist. "It doesn't sound foolish at all. I've had the same feeling. That's one of the reasons I don't want to pay too much attention to it. How did it seem changed?" I told him about how the mouth seemed to have closed. He squinted and shook his head. "Can't prove it by me. I still have the scan I sent to Christie's in my computer. It's high resolution. Maybe we should print it out. I've got a state-of-the-art color printer I use to make copies for potential buyers." "Go for it," I said. Greg turned on the computer and moved quickly through the various icons until the creature sprang out from a blue background. The printer sucked up pixels from the main computer, then slowly began to spit out a piece of paper. "Done," Greg said, holding it out for me to see. "Let's take another picture." We walked to the shelf. He gingerly removed it and carried it to an Edward chair with a blue sheet thrown over it. "Are you any good with the camera?" he asked. "Not bad. I've had enough practice. I'll take a closeup." I knelt on the floor and aimed the camera at the sculpture. It seemed particularly malevolent, and its captive, particularly pathetic. I took a look at Greg's photo and lined my shot up so it was roughly the same viewpoint. As I pushed the button, we both jumped. A cold chill ran down my spine and I began to shake violently. Greg looked equally frightened. "What the heck happened?" he whispered. "I have no idea," I whispered. "It's like I heard something. But I'm sure I didn't. I don't care what it was, just put the damned thing back on the shelf." Greg took it as if it burned his hands. I waited until he had shelved it and met him at his desk. His face was still pale, and I was sure mine was too. His hand shook as he fished the interface connector cord from his top drawer. I watched him fumble with it, then offered to finish the job. Thanks," Greg said in a embarrassed voice. It took a while, but at last the camera was connected to the computer. "I see you have PhotoShop," I said. "Is that how you download your pictures?" "Yes. I'll take over." The process took about three minutes and the printer another two to finish the job. When the paper wafted to the tabletop, I didn't want to pick it up. "This is kinda ridiculous, isn't it?" Greg said. "Let's take a look." He laid the two photos side by side. We bent over them. At first I couldn't see any difference. The malevolently gaping maw looked to be the same in both pictures. The eyes were equally impenetrably dark. As I took a closer look at the victim, I caught my breath. "Look," I said, grabbing a pencil from the desktop. I pointed at the mouth of the captive. It seemed to be opened wider. Greg took a loupe magnifying glass out of his desk and laid it on the first photo. After taking a long look, he picked it up and laid on the second. "It sure looks that way to me. But it can't be. It must be our imaginations." "There's only one way to be sure," I said. "Have you got a ruler with millimeters on it?" Greg opened his drawer and pulled out one with a metal edge. "Let me borrow your loupe," I said. I searched the larger photograph for two points that I could accurately locate on the smaller and measured. It turned out to be the space between the creature's massive eyebrows. "Five centimeters," I said. "Write that down." Greg did. I laid the ruler on the smaller photo and measured again. "Four centimeters. It's a four-to-five ratio. Let's take a look at the mouth." It turned out the easiest way to measure was to bisect the length of the captive's face. "Two centimeters." My hand shook as I set the ruler on the larger photo, the one we had just taken. My heart pounded faster as I peered through the loupe and went back to see if I had placed the measuring stick correctly. The top of the head and the bottom were perfectly aligned. My body went cold. "Oh jeez." Greg looked petrified. "What's the matter." "The measurements aren't the same." "Can't be," he said in a nervous voice. "How do you know? Are you a professional or something?" "No, but I've had a lot of experience. I have to try to match stones for the necklaces I make. Professional jewelers aren't easy to fool." "Would photographing from a different angle make a difference?" he asked, now pleading. He desperately wanted me to be wrong. So did I. "Well, yes. It could. But they seem to be pretty close." "When you're dealing in centimeters, it must make a difference." I felt relieved having to agree with him. "Yeah. That must be it." We stared at each other for a moment. "Thank God." Recognized The book continues with Part Two. We will provide a link to it when you review this below. Share your own writing! - Information on our membership for writers. Author Notes Hope this gives you a chill or two. Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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