Brian Scutt's Blog - Posts Tagged "raw"
The Squirrel - a Wendigo Excerpt
Something small that may, or may not end up in the novel. Unedited and Raw!
This is from a work in progress, an upcoming novel called Wendigo. If you enjoy my work, consider heading over to my Patreon site and following along, or becoming a patron to support my work and become part of the process.
Winter was coming. The frantic time of the last gather was here. If he was to survive the squirrel knew he had to beat feet to make it. To survive. It was the only life he knew. This was his second winter, so he recognized the stakes, and something in his bones made his gathering more frantic. Something was amiss, something was coming. It caused his hairs twitch with apprehension.
He had his hidey holes, his nut caches, deposited and nestled everywhere. Places he was certain he had forgotten but would recall when the white blanketed the land around him and brother bear slept. He was dragging away an exceptionally good haul from his favorite oak tree when he noticed a glint of movement near one of his favorite stashes. He raised to stand on his rear paws, whiskers twitching. Leaves rustled. He chattered letting his warning ring out.
He caught it again. A mangy gray squirrel. It stared back at him, mouth full of it’s prize. His nuts. It was scurrying over the old felled tree with his nuts! He watched him vault over out of sight and took chase. His stores were a matter of life and death. This intruder appeared to be near death already. He hopped over the old fallen tree, ready to confront and pounce.
Nothing. Just the rust-colored fall leaves littered the surrounding ground, no grey squirrel to be seen. He twitched his whiskers again and sniffed at the air. Wrong, rotten, something foul hung in the air. The fur on his little back stood on end. His tail fluffed. Then he heard the chatter of the intruder and his instinctual caution was trumped by the need to restore his coffers. The sound was ahead, low to the ground.
He inched forward, hunched low, ready to scamper to the nearest tree. He heard the chattering; it wasn’t a warning. It was kind, inviting, like a willing mate. Within the carpet of leaves that littered the ground, he noticed a dark crevasse. Fridged air wafted from the split in the earth, it carried the stench and the sound of the chattering that continued to pull him closer. Near the mouth of the fissure was one of his nuts, left by his new tormentor to be scurried away in a moment’s notice. He lunged for it.
His little padded feet bounded across the leaves, and they moved. Disappearing beneath his little body, he realized in horror that the leaves covering ground were nothing but a loose topping upon the rest of the earthen pit. He dropped. His decent brought him into the maw of fear and blackness.
Above him, the wind blew scattering the leaves over the small unassuming. The chatter and chirp of little creatures preparing for the world of snow rose again and filled the air, muffling the shrills of audible wet pain and fear from below.
Unedited Sneak...
From the upcoming novel Wendigo, raw and unedited with the formatting being a delightful mess!
Scott pulled into the drive next to his rusted out old trailer on the edge of town. His hands wrong tightly on the wheel after cutting the engine. He wasn’t ready to face her wrath yet and instead took another long drink of the bottle he had picked up on the way. His brother may have once been the sheriff, but right about now, he could give two shits. He took another pull and tossed the bottle in the back. Million fuckin’ bucks Maggie. He thought to himself and punched the dash a couple of times before he heard the tell-tale sound of the metal trailer door slamming as it shut. The auto outside light came on and revealed a man striding down the makeshift steps, his makeshift steps, and lighting a cigarette. Cold sweat broke free on Scott’s forehead as the man stopped and looked straight at his car and he watched as an icy grin broke across his face and slowly formed a chuckle.
“You gonna sit in there and stare all day Randy boy, you’re eye raping me like you want some of what she had?” He said as he flicked the cig at his car’s windshield. It smacked, bright red embers cascade off the glass and caused Scott to jump. The tall man, dressed in his normal daily attire of jeans and leather jacket calmly strode over to Randy’s car. Randy began to shake as he watched him approach.
“Well come on Randy, no way to treat a guest, you didn't even say hi!” He said as he rapped slightly on the cars driver side window with the back of his knuckles. Randy’s hand trembles as he hit the switch to lower the window. The man reached his hand in and pat Randy on the back.
“Here I am, making sure your wife is all safe and sound, and there you are being all rude and shit.” His hand smacked Randy in the back of the head. Randy’s head came inches from smacking the steering wheel. A few tears broke free from the corners of Randy’s eyes.
“Well, Randy ole boy, I’ve got shit to do and other people to fuck. Go on in big guy, I took care of everything.” He turned and walked to the shadows of the nearby tree and sat down on prized Harley. How did I not see it there? Randy thought, wringing his hands on the wheel again. Letting the tears dry on his cheeks.
“Oh, and I wouldn't give her a kiss quit yet, unless you fancy that taste.” He smiled and started his ride and rumbled out of sight.
Randy sat there trembling for a few more moments. What the hell is going on? He thought. He exited and approached his trailer, head swiveling to inspect all of the shadows that surrounded him. He didn't hear anything coming from the trailer itself and that scared him more than anything. What the hell was that lowlife drug dealer doing here? Every possible terrible cause, actions, and outcomes sprang to his mind. He could barely fathom the thought that she was cheating on him. Sure he had fucked up, things were tough, but drugs, fucking another man?
He grasped the handle of the door, it’s cheap aluminum metal was cold to the touch in the Fall night. Still no sounds from within. He drew in a deep breath and pulled open the door. All the lights were on inside, he peered around the broken down hovel but didn't see her insight.
“Maggie, baby?” He called out, it sounded strange as a thick lump had begun to form in the depths of his throat. Still no sounds other than himself filled the trailer. He peered down the narrow hall to where the bedroom and bathroom were housed. It was dark down that hall, and a faint light shown from under the door to the bedroom.
“Baby?”
He made his way, he thought he could hear something now. It sounded like gargling, strange gargling. He ran-stumbled down the rest of the way and crashed through the door. She was there, laying on the bed, it looked like she was struggling to breathe, her eyes where open, but only the whites showed. She was wearing an old tank-top but missing her pants. On her arm was a loose belt, dangling and not tight. She sat on the bed with a thick wet mark around her and it smelled of piss. That sound came again and he watched as a thick white foam came from her mouth along with the gargle.
“Oh shit.” He said and raced to her, grief, angry and helplessness clouded him as he grabbed her head and helped her forward. She moaned slightly as he held her and she vomited freely onto the already soiled sheets. He grabbed her body and tried to pick her up, he was too weak and her legs flopped and knocked needles and a spoon off the end table as he nearly dropped her. He took a moment and looked at them in disgust. I can’t believe this shit.
He resorted to dragging her to the bathroom, flipping the hall light on in the process, not from trying but knocking into it along the way in the cramped quarters. She began coughing and vomited again along the way, sparking the linoleum hall floor. He dragged half of her torso in through the door frame of the bathroom and threw open the water faucet to the tub.
“God oh god Maggie, why.” Tears were now freely flowing down his cheeks as he finished the job of pulling her through the bathroom door and heaving her into the tub, she was already coming too when she finally hit the water. She mumbled something, something that sounded too close to his name, the fucker that did this, for his liking and he looked down from her face. He sat on the toilet next to the tub and sobbed as tendrils of blood streamed from her womanhood, highlighting the other horrors that must have taken place.
Marry's Tomb
So, here is a short story that I'm currently working on. It's in a rough stage. Only the beginning of the initial scene is tentatively laid down. I expect many changes as I go (the girl's name has already changed from Sally, to Marry after I decided to change the story to the late Victorian era in Central New York).
I will show you the notes and framework that I created first. I use this to plant the seeds for what the story will become. After I will lay down a scene structure, most of the time it’s bad, really bad, with lots of telling rather than showing. Yikes… but later I will rework parts of it to show more of what the characters are doing and omit what I originally wrote!
This is my scaffolding and then a brief first drafted part. There will be more to come. Thanks for helping me on my journey!
P.S. I'm keeping all of the typos!
Scaffolding:
Forest around new home
Finds an old tomb, strange writing. Smells tea and cookies
Meets a friend there, seems wonderful and mythical
Enjoys tea and cookies, then realizes it is getting late, sees the sun setting and her mother callig
Feels exhausted, eats little, Parents think she is coming down with a cold
Continues visits, upon return from visits he parents begin to notice mood swings, changes in appearence(guant, frail)
Father begins to fall ill, see’s her daughter acting strangely around him (when the daughter feeds it looks like shes whispering into his ear, she looks angry when she is caught)
Asks daughter what she’s been up to, let’s out that she plays with her new friend, newfriend loves her more than they do.
Mother follows daughter next day, finds daughter being fed upon by an
ancient one.
She tries to protect her daughter, is taken by the ancient one into the tomb.
End scene, daughter taking her father by the hand to the tomb, “It’s beautiful here daddy, mommy loved it there.”
Draft work:
Mary cocked her head as she looked down at the now movement less body of the frog.
“Well.” She said and poked at the thing again with her stick.
The green speckled skin pushed in where the stick assaulted it, and sprang back when she removed it. She furrowed her brow and reapplied pressure. Grunting as she did so, the stick slide neatly into the skin, thick liquid and innards bursting and releasing around the stick.
“I was bored with you anyhow.”She said with an upturned nose and skipped away toward the edge of the property.
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