An exclusive excerpt from Secrets
My novella Secrets is up for pre-order now. You can read the details
here.
What follows is a brief excerpt from the novella.
In this section, the main characters have just learned they will be stranded for the night in the local watering hole. They have just met Jack Bierce, a man who seems to be just passing through.
Enjoy!
***
Five minutes later everybody had made their phone calls; Joe had left a message at work, telling them he was stranded overnight at the Black Cow; Kelly had called her husband and left a message for him on their voice mail and Bill had called his wife Carol. Joe drifted to the table they’d sat at earlier and perched himself at it. Laura took drink orders and began serving them up. Kelly and Bill joined Joe at the table and the stranger turned around on his barstool. "Pleased to meet you." He held out his hand. "Name's Jack Bierce."
Introductions were made. Jack nodded at each of them in acknowledgement. Jack had very sharp features and his eyes were piercing. He had a very distinct look about him. He had a face that conveyed intelligence and cunning. While his grin was wide and affable, something about it suggested to Joe that you probably wouldn't want to cross this man.
Charlie popped in and asked if anybody wanted to munch on something. "I can fire up the grill if you want."
"Why don't you make some of those munchie plates," Kelly said. "You know, those appetizer things with chicken strips and fried zucchini and the like."
"Coming right up."
Laura brought a tray of drinks over. "Might as well make ourselves comfortable," she said, handing them out. She set Joe's usual bottle of Heineken down and flashed him a smile. Joe smiled back. At least they were in good company.
Once Laura had served the drinks, she joined the others at the table. Charlie busied himself behind the grill as talk of the storm started up again. The basic consensus was that they were glad they had safe refuge in the form of the Black Cow Bar and Grill to seek shelter from the storm when it could have been much worse.
Laura turned to Charlie. "Charlie, is it, um..."
Charlie grinned. "Officially, the Black Cow is closed for business. Go ahead."
"Thanks." Laura rose from her seat and ducked behind the bar, returning with an ashtray. She extracted a pack of Marlboro's and tapped one out. Joe followed suit; his nerves had been screaming for a cigarette for the past hour.
"No smoking in your establishment, Charlie?" Jack asked.
"California law," Charlie said with disdain. "Went into affect over ten years ago. Thankfully I got a loyal customer following, and some of them don't mind darting outside for a smoke."
"I mind when it's twenty below," Joe said, a cigarette dangling from his lip.
"I take it you're all regulars here, then?" Jack asked, back against the bar, elbows leaning against the edge.
"Pretty much," Bill said, taking a swig from a bottle of Lowenbrau. "You from around these parts, Jack?"
Jack shook his head. "I'm from all over, really. I was just passing through on my way up to Sequoia National Park. Got a friend that lives nearby I was going to stay with. I just stopped in here for a drink and a bite to eat."
"What do you do, Jack?" Kelly asked, huddled into her sweater.
"I guess you could say I'm a jack of all trades," Jack said, chuckling at the play on words. "I've done all sorts of things in the past. Presently, though, I guess you could say I'm a philosopher."
Laura looked pleasantly surprised. "Oh, you write books?"
Jack nodded and took his first sip of the beer Laura had got for him. "I’ve written many things."
"You writing' about the Sequoia's or something?" Joe asked. The ache he’d felt for Laura thirty minutes ago was still pulsing faintly through him. She seemed to feel it and scooted a little closer to him on the bench they were now seated on.
Jack shrugged. "Not really. I just like to travel around and soak things up. Observe things. Ponder them. Sometimes what I reflect on comes out in what I write."
"Had anything published?" Bill asked.
Jack chuckled. "Oh yes. Lots of stuff."
The conversation centered on the publishing industry, with Jack fielding various questions about the ins and outs of the business. Bill had heard that most writers were a broke lot, while Laura heard that you could actually make a comfortable living at writing. Jack answered their questions tactfully. Yes, he was fortunate to make a living doing what he loved to do, and yes, there were others in his profession that had to work jobs outside their profession to make ends meet. The people in the latter camp were far more plentiful among those in his profession, though.
Charlie emerged from the grill with a large plate of appetizers: chicken strips with various dipping sauces; fried zucchini with ranch dressing; potato wedges; onion rings; fried cheesesticks and mushrooms with marinara sauce. Charlie set the tray down in the middle of the table and everybody reached for their share. Charlie joined them a minute later bearing a bottle of Samuel Adams. Bill jerked a thumb back at Jack. "Jack Bierce here is a philosopher and a writer."
"Really?" Charlie said, helping himself to some fried zucchini. "Never met a real-life philosopher before. You spending the Christmas holidays up here?"
Jack repeated what he’d told them a few minutes before and Charlie nodded. "Speaking of books, I still got one more present to get for Christmas. My niece wants one of those new Harry Potter books and the latest R.L. Stine. She loves those things."
"They’re real popular," Bill opined, dipping a chicken strip in some honey mustard sauce and taking a bite.
Kelly made a face. "I don't think that's the kind of story you'd want your children to read on Christmas."
"Why not?" Jack said, leaning against the bar. "I know the Potter stories aren't exactly ghost stories, but R. L. Stine tailors his stuff that way. And when it comes to ghost stories, this is the perfect season. It's the English tradition."
"The what?" Joe asked. He was digging into the potato wedges.
"The English." Jack was grinning. "It used to be popular among the British to tell ghost stories on Christmas Eve. In fact, it was a very old tradition until the last thirty years or so. I'm sure some families that go way back still practice the tradition, especially those closely associated with King's College, Cambridge."
"Why Cambridge?" Bill asked.
"Montague Rhodes James was educated there," Jack answered. He took a sip of his drink. "M. R. James was perhaps the finest writer of the traditional ghost story in the English language. Much of the material in his classic collection Ghost Stories of an Antiquary were first read aloud during Christmas Eve at King's College. Many of his stories utilized the Christmas Eve setting, and writers that have gone on to adopt the 'Jamesian method' utilize the Christmas Eve motif as the springboard for their stories. The tradition is actually much older than James, however. Perhaps the writer who first brought the tradition to public awareness was Charles Dickens with his classic A Christmas Carol. Surely, you’re aware of this story, yes?"
Joe found the concept interesting. He traded a glance with Laura, who raised her eyebrows at him. Bill was nodding along, looking interested. Only Kelly appeared to disapprove. She frowned. "I don't know...it just doesn't seem right. Horror stories and Christmas. They just don't go together."
"That's ‘ghost stories’ and Christmas, Kelly," Bill said.
"Ghost stories, horror stories," Kelly dismissed the distinction with a wave of her hand. "They're the same as far as I'm concerned. They all serve to turn our attention away from the Lord and make us dwell on things like killing and evil. Like that Harry Potter crap." She turned to Charlie. "I'm sorry, Charlie, but from what I've heard in my Bible study group about the Harry Potter books, I just don't see how any sensible adult can look at them and not see that it's all the glorification of evil."
"Have you ever read them?" Joe asked. He couldn't believe what he’d just heard Kelly say. The others appeared too stunned to say anything. The question had come tumbling out of Joe's mouth before he could stop it. Kelly could be a fine person most of the time, but when it came to her wacky religious views she could be downright condescending. The two of them had already butted heads on his choice of music; Kelly had taken offense at a Metallica T-shirt he’d worn one evening at the bar and had tried to convince Joe that Metallica were a band of heathens that glorified rape, suicide, satanic worship, and murder in their songs. Joe responded that he didn’t believe in the devil, much less God. While their spiritual debates were respectful and never turned into full-fledged arguments, Kelly insisted that some day Joe would see the error of his ways. “The Lord will work in such a way that you will know true evil someday. It will touch you, and you will know it.”
"No, and I don't intend to," Kelly said in answer to Joe's question.
"Maybe you should read them," Jack said from his position at the bar. "At least that would allow you to make an informed decision on them."
"No offense, but I'll pass," Kelly said, fingering her glass of coke. "The only book I'd take with me on a deserted island is my Bible."
"The Bible," Jack mused, picking up his beer bottle in contemplation before taking a drink. "Now there's a book that has a whole lot of killing in it, don't you think?"
"What are you talking about?" Kelly asked.
"Don't you know your Bible?" Jack asked. "The Bible practically endorses murder. Don't you know that?"
"Endorses murder?" Joe asked. This he had to hear.
"Since most of us engage in sexual activity before marriage,” Jack began, “We'd be in big trouble if the United States ever became a strict Christian theocracy. 'Then they shall bring out the damsel to the door of her father's house, and the men of the city shall stone her with stones that she die...' Deuteronomy Chapter 22, verses 13 through 21. If one reads further into this chapter they will see that this applies only to women who had been presented as virgins and could be proven to have engaged in intercourse before being engaged or married. There appears to have been no penalty for men for pre-marital sexual activity. Kind of unfair, don't you think?"
"Well, of course it is!" Laura blurted. "Think about it: who wrote the Bible? Men!"
"Hey, wait a minute!" Joe said, taking mock offense.
Everyone got a chuckle out of that except Kelly. She was seething. "That is absurd," she said. "You're misinterpreting what the scripture says and-- "
"Now that is from the Old Testament," Jack said, interrupting her. "The Old Testament is full of such endorsements for murder. For example, Exodus 21 verse 17 states: 'And he that curseth his father, or his mother, shall surely be put to death.' If we had been living under a theocracy when we were teenagers, we wouldn't be alive now because of this. You could also be put to death for working on Saturday. Exodus chapter 35, verse 2 states: '...but on the seventh day there shall be to you a holy day, a Sabbath of rest to the Lord: whosoever doeth work therein shall be put to death.' Chapter 15, verses 32 through 36 of Numbers supports this by describing a man who was executed because he gathered wood on Saturday. Charlie here would lose a substantial portion of his business if he were to close up every weekend."
"Damn straight," Charlie said, digging into the food and listening with avid interest.
Jack looked at Kelly. "I see a pretty big ring on your ring finger. I take it you're married?"
"Yes." Kelly's eyes were blazing with anger.
"Do you use birth control?"
Kelly's mouth opened in surprise. Her eyes grew wide with shock. "I...that's none of your business!"
"Not in the eyes of the church," Jack said, grinning. "For practicing birth control, Onan was required by Jewish law and tradition to marry his brother's widow and have a male child who would be considered the brother's heir. He didn't want to do this, and so practiced an elementary form of birth control. God killed him because of it. This was first interpreted by the Church as punishment for a sexual sin: avoiding pregnancy through the use of a birth control technique. Later, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, the Church said it was masturbation. 'Onanism' became a synonym for auto-eroticism." Jack cast a grin around the room. "It's been used both ways. That's why whacking off will send you to hell now. What man here hasn't yanked their crank to Eva Longoria’s smile? And I'm sure you ladies have physically stimulated yourself while dreaming of being in the arms of Brad Pitt."
"Another Old Testament story," Kelly said, obviously pissed off at the stranger but trying hard not to show it. "Try finding anywhere in the New Testament in which my Lord and Savior endorses murder."
Jack nodded. "True. The words Jesus himself said that were later written down do not appear to endorse murder. But his later followers surely endorsed it. In Acts chapter 6, verses 7 through 9, Stephen was found guilty of blasphemy and stoned to death. And there is some debate as to whether Jesus himself actually endorsed the death penalty. Remember John Chapter 8, verses 3 through 11? It describes an adulteress who was scheduled for stoning. Jesus told her executioners ' He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.' These verses have often been quoted to indicate Jesus' opposition to the death penalty. However, this passage is apparently a Christian forgery; it is not present in the oldest manuscripts of the Gospel of John, but was added later by unknown person, or persons. Besides, if you read between the lines, Jesus does not directly challenge the right of the accusers to kill her according to the Mosaic Law. He simply offers them an illuminating thought that seems to say, 'yes. Kill her for her sin if you must, but should you be found guilty in sin, the same punishment may soon be in store for you'."
"There's a difference between the Holy Word of the Bible," Kelly began, practically spitting the words out, her eyes blazing with anger. "And the filth you see in the kind of books you're describing."
"Really?" Jack appeared to be on a roll. "What about Shakespeare? Do you like Shakespeare?"
Kelly appeared to not know how to answer the question. "I don't know."
"William Shakespeare," Jack continued. "The greatest playwright of all time. MacBeth. Romeo and Juliet. Hamlet."
"I like Romeo and Juliet," Kelly said quickly.
"In Romeo and Juliet we have the theme of suicide," Jack continued. "Two young lovers, forbidden by their parents to see each other, make the ultimate sacrifice to each other. Some see it as the greatest love story ever told, and it is...but very deep down, it's also a horror story. It speaks of the horror of loss...the loss of love." He paused. "So is it okay to read Shakespeare but not, say, Stephen King?"
"There's a difference," Kelly insisted.
Bill spoke up. "I think he has a point, Kelly."
Kelly whirled to Bill, her amber eyes blazing.
"Macbeth is a perfect example," Bill continued, looking at the others around the table. "It focuses on the theme of regicide--the killing of a king or queen--which, back then, was one of the gravest sins. For the king and queen were God's consorts on earth. MacBeth also deals with witches."
"And it's a classic!" Jack beamed, clapping his hands together. "Imagine! A piece of horror fiction lauded as a classic piece of literature!"
"I hardly think most English professors would agree with you," Kelly said, nursing her soda. She appeared to not want to carry the conversation further.
"I think they would," Jack said. He got off the stool and strolled to the far side of the table where he sat down, placing his bottle of Heineken on the scarred surface. "A professor of literature would agree that love, madness, sin, and death are key themes in literature. They speak wonders of the human condition. They illustrate the point that we as humans have a dark side to us. We are all capable of evil to some extent."
"I disagree," Kelly said. She had stopped eating and was staring at Jack from across the table. "I think your mind has been warped by all those 'literature' classes you must have taken in college." She emphasized literature by making quote/unquote gestures with her fingers.
Jack smiled. "I think not."
"I think so," Kelly said. "Horror stories dwell on death and Satanism. They dwell on evil. Like the Harry Potter books. His parents were murdered and he's in a...a school for witches." She leaned over the table. "What kind of garbage is that! That's teaching our kids that it's okay to worship Satan."
"I think that's going a bit too far, Kelly," Bill said. He took a bite out of a chicken strip.
“It’s not going too far,” Kelly protested.
“Of course it isn’t,” Jack seemingly agreed. “After all, Kelly is a Christian, and by her very definition, Christians can do no wrong. They don’t have dark secrets. Isn’t that right, Kelly?”
Kelly set her drink on the table and rose to her feet. “I’ve had enough of this discussion.” She grabbed her purse and stalked to the rear hallway that led to the restrooms in anger.
Joe glanced at Laura, who shrugged her shoulders in a well, she had it coming to her gesture.
Charlie didn’t look very happy. His usual easy-going demeanor, which had been on display throughout most of the discussion, had softened a bit. “I don’t need any arguments tonight,” He said, addressing Jack. “This discussion is over. You understand me?”
Jack Bierce held both hands up, palm outward in surrender. “As you wish, Mr. Thompson.”
From the women’s restroom, Kelly began to scream.
*****
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