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    Buried On My Land
    Buried On My Land
    Buried On My Land
    Ebook133 pages1 hour

    Buried On My Land

    By K. Massari

    ()

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    About this ebook

    They won't stay dead .... Who will survive the encounter? Jesse and Willy are violent people, criminals who drift from city to city, one step ahead of disaster. Jesse has a dream reminding her of a boy who once fell in love with her, a boy named Tom whose family was wealthy and generous, living a carefree lifestyle. Jesse persuades Willy to drive her to Tom's hometown with the last of their money.
    She is convinced the images in her head mean something and their luck will change.
    Willy could not care less one way or the other. They have no idea what they are getting themselves into. Tom has gone from being a shy, but beautiful boy to becoming a hostile loner with murderous intentions. He harbors in his house an ugly, devastating secret. A secret which is the source of great wealth, but also the source of immeasurable pain ...
    Their paths cross ... and the dead rise from their graves ... who will survive the encounter?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherK. Massari
    Release dateOct 29, 2015
    ISBN9781311781581
    Buried On My Land
    Author

    K. Massari

    I've always been passionate about horror. Whether it was watching Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff or Lon Chaney Jr., or devouring Stephen King's books, I have been drawn to and fascinated by the dark side, what creates suspense, tension and terror.

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      Book preview

      Buried On My Land - K. Massari

      Chapter 1

      There, Jesse said, pointing her cigarette in the direction of an old gray Victorian.

      Willy chuckled.

      That?

      Like I told you.

      Old, empty and boarded-up?

      He’s in there.

      Are you sure?

      Yeah, he’s in there. He doesn’t go anywhere.

      Willy slowed, opening a can of beer.

      Pile o’ shit.

      What did you expect?

      Willy stared straight ahead, through the windshield.

      Now what? he growled.

      Park the car.

      Jesse rattled the door until she was able to open it, while Willy was still driving, inching along. Jesse ran towards Tom’s house, as Willy nudged the car into a spot further down the street. Jesse hopped up the few steps gingerly and landed on the porch. She knocked on the front door. The paint was chipped and the doorbell hung loose. No one answered.

      She rushed back down the steps and disappeared along the side of the house. Willy looked up, surprised. He had popped the trunk open and was lifting their bags and things out. He followed Jesse quickly to the back, not bothering to take in his surroundings.

      Willy didn’t want to know who was standing behind the curtains, lurking, watching him, watching Jesse, thinking and planning. He hoped no one was home and Grandma was in bed.

      In the yard, a hastily thrown-together toolshed stood leaning against a large barn. Both structures had seen a better day. Jesse dashed out of her hiding place, motioning him to come quickly. Willy had three bags slung over his shoulder. He complied. Together they entered the toolshed.

      So this is home now, he said and spat on the dusty dirt floor.

      It wasn’t locked, Jesse announced cheerfully.

      It’s never been locked, and I knew that.

      What else counts as good news?

      May not look like it, but they have money.

      No, doesn’t look like it.

      And … he had a crush on me.

      Willy said nothing. He threw the bags down next to a mattress in one corner.

      I’ll get a blanket from the car later on.

      Let me have a beer, too.

      Willy handed her a can, as she lit a cigarette to give him.

      Careful with that.

      So … when do we meet our landlord?

      Later, after dark.

      Did you find him on Facebook?

      Yeah.

      Did he answer?

      Jesse bit her lip.

      Give it time.

      Willy let himself down on the mattress.

      Right now I don’t care.

      Yeah, this is shit, but it’s free.

      Has he got a dog?

      No, he can’t be near animals.

      Family?

      They’re all dead.

      He’s weird, huh?

      Weird weird.

      What kind of weird is that?

      Shy weird.

      Can’t look you in the eye.

      He never done looked no one in the eye, ever.

      My kind of idiot.

      Jesse giggled and snuggled against his chest. Using the bags as pillows, they sat propped up, drinking and smoking slowly.

      After a long time, when Jesse was just about to fall asleep, Willy added for good measure:

      Can we tie him up and make him do things?

      Willy!

      I can’t stand his guts … already.

      Chapter 2

      With my rusty shovel, I pat down the earth. Done. A raggedy line of red-golden orange burns on the horizon, and I know I must hurry. I have been pushing myself all night. I can do this, I think. I have come so far.

      I look down at the grave. It is square and large, not the traditional rectangular, lengthy shape. I am happier that way. And hell, I had to put them somewhere. I also disregard the assumption a grave has to be just for one. They need to be together sometimes, especially if they liked being together in life … I am mindful of such matters.

      I lean on the shovel, hands folded on the handle. I stare into the dawn of a new day. (No one cares.) I care. I cared for her. Deeply. But she didn’t love me. Maybe she couldn’t, she was in so much pain. I could not keep her in the cellar with me indefinitely. I am sorry. I am sorry, Ma.

      Willy woke up first; something or someone was scratching the toolshed door from the outside, desperate to get in. Willy had problems focusing, he was still too drunk and too tired to react. Must be a cat or a dog, he thought. A wicked voice in his head said, it’s not cat or dog, it’s much worse.

      A bear? Wolf? Raccoon?

      He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Jesse was snoring softly in a corner. Hell, she deserves better than this, Willy thought. No more money. Not even a motel room.

      Sh … he hissed.

      The animal outside stopped scratching, as if listening.

      Willy repeated:

      Sh-sh-sh …

      After another pause, the furious scratching resumed. Willy grabbed a shoe and threw it at the door. Again, the scratching stopped.

      What? asked Jesse, sleep drunk.

      A critter. Lives here.

      A … what?

      Tom will be here shortly with a gun.

      Bullshit. Asshole. Leave me alone.

      The scratching continued. It sounded methodical and - determined. Will thought, the paws the claws belonged to would soon be through the wood.

      Jesse sat up now, too. A fierce light shone in through the only window from the side of the barn.

      What are they doing out there, slaughtering the cows?

      I have no idea.

      I could use a shower.

      I could use some whiskey.

      Both.

      Get your ass up and get in the house.

      And the bear?

      What bear?

      Will, from the sounds of it, it’s a bear?

      Fuck.

      Willy shook his head and laughed. He tried to stand, but faltered. Jesse shoved him up. Once on his feet, he considered his options. He found a rusty ax covered with cobwebs and went charging for the door. He thundered the butt end of the ax on it. Wood splintered. Then he kicked the door open. A dog went scampering back in the direction of the house. It was a large black Labrador, notwithstanding its gauntness and bruises.

      Sucker! Don’t you come back.

      He turned to look at Jesse and added:

      Your turn.

      I’m going, she said.

      She was brushing her hair. Against the light, she smoothed her skin with her hand. When she reached for lipstick, Willy grunted.

      I said I’m going.

      Go.

      She got up and left. Willy watched her walk unsteadily to the kitchen door at the back of the house. She tried the knob and opened it, not before staring in the direction of the bright lights coming from the barn. She shielded her eyes with her hand. Then she looked back at Willy.

      It’s not the barn. They’re doing something back there.

      He nodded, and motioned for her to hurry.

      She disappeared into the house, which was completely dark, except for the occasional whisper and the occasional quivering shadow all too typical in old abandoned Victorian houses.

      Chapter 3

      Her battery was low, and Jesse knew she would have to switch off her cell phone flashlight very soon. Not yet, not yet, an internal voice pleaded with her. She walked into intricate cobwebs, her face full of their sticky goo, while the house was creepy and deserted. Tom might be dead and decomposing somewhere, she thought, disheartened.

      The refrigerator was not empty, but the food spoilt and thoroughly disgusting. Plates had not been washed in decades. Tom seemed to be something of a hoarder in the making. There were stacks of cardboard boxes everywhere, as if he had decided to move, and then decided against it.

      Jesse needed to turn a light on. But that would be her coming-out moment as a trespasser. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want to live outside homeless, either. And she had promised Willy, this would be good.

      Didn’t look

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