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    Not Much To Do In Wellington: An October Tale
    Not Much To Do In Wellington: An October Tale
    Not Much To Do In Wellington: An October Tale
    Ebook27 pages23 minutes

    Not Much To Do In Wellington: An October Tale

    By Dustin Hurley

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    About this ebook

    When young Billy mistakes the neighbor for a squirrel, he sets off a chain of events beyond his worst nightmares. Along with his reluctant sidekick, Billy will be forced to face a terrible evil that has lay hidden in their community for over a hundred years.
    A humorous tale of horror and suspense.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDustin Hurley
    Release dateOct 7, 2011
    ISBN9781466160880
    Not Much To Do In Wellington: An October Tale
    Author

    Dustin Hurley

    Dustin Hurley is the pen name for a highly successful ketchup maker living in the Andes. He likes bicycling, pleasant surprises, and, not surprisingly, ketchup. He's a really swell guy once you get to know him, which you can't because he doesn't really exist. He's a pen name. Buy his books.

    Read more from Dustin Hurley

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      Book preview

      Not Much To Do In Wellington - Dustin Hurley

      Not Much To Do In Wellington:

      An October Tale

      by Dustin Hurley

      Copyright © 2011 Dustin Hurley

      Smashwords edition

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the work of this author

      Not Much To Do In Wellington: An October Tale

      There’s not much to do in Wellington - not for a fifteen year old, at least. I think that’s what drove me to start killing in the first place, to escape the same old boring crap day in and day out. I don’t remember exactly how many I killed - I quit counting at around seven or eight. But I do remember the day I gave it up for good.

      It was a Saturday. My parents had gone to town for groceries and I had the house all to myself. I didn’t wake up that morning with murder on my mind. (To tell you the truth, I was getting kind of bored with it.) But when I stepped out into the misty October morning and spotted movement on the stone wall that ran along the edge of my yard, my blood-lust took over. I fetched my rifle and sighted at the small mass of brown fur ambling along the wall - a good thirty yards away. Stand still, dammit, I said. When the furry mass paused long enough for a shot I took it. The rifle uttered a satisfying crack, shattering the stillness. There was a squeal and the target disappeared behind the wall.

      I frowned.

      Squirrels didn’t squeal. At least, none of

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