Good Morning friends,

Dᴇsᴇᴄʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ Sᴏʟᴏᴍᴏɴ releases is just a week away, I'm getting very excited. Enjoy the excerpt and let me know what you think.










Solomon drove through Weston and his foot left the gas pedal in abject shock at finally coming upon it. The Asylum. Sitting right there on the corner of Second street like an elementary school might, only a massive, mile long structure resembling a medieval castle. Right in the middle of town! How did he not hear about this thing? He’d heard of the hospital, but who envisions a seven hundred year old mammoth of ancient stone?

'Nobody talks about it.'

Clearly they did not. And yet how did they not?

He hit the gas and headed toward the woods behind the asylum, searching for a road that would get him there. Finding one, he took it until he got to a decrepit metal gate with a No Trespassing sign hanging on it. Solomon got out and looked all around for a moment then inspected the barrier. Finding a chain loosely hanging around a post, he opened it up, then got in his truck and proceeded to trespass.

A few feet in, he stopped and shut the gate, again looking all around for any signs of being watched or even noticed. He wasn’t sure what was worse at this point, to be followed in or not be. The creep factor in the woods was off the charts hair raising. Back in his truck, he put his shotgun across his lap and proceeded down an overgrown drive leading hopefully to find the so-called town outcast named Jimmy Ray Smith.

The road gradually became less discernible as he went until he stopped and stared all around. Here we go. Easing out of the truck, his new adopted pet jumped out to stand next to him, eager for adventure.

Good for him.

He patted his head, letting him know he was glad for the company. Which way was he supposed to go now? The dog growled long and low right as the sound of metal clicked behind him.

“That’s as far as you need to be goin.”

The gravelly voice froze Solomon. “Hello, sir.” Slowly he raised both hands while standing stock still.

The man snickered. “Figures it’d be a city boy venturin in my woods. You can’t read?”

“I can, sir, but I needed to talk to you.”

“Turn slow so I can sees this fool and tell your dog to settle down.”

The dog had begun to bark non-stop as Solomon did exactly as instructed. “Settle down boy,” he ordered the dog, wishing he’d named him or knew his name.

“Yep, city as can be.”

The only thing Solomon saw was bright green eyes and patches of white around his head along with a couple of teeth. Was he painted black? “You Jimmy Ray Smith?”

“Who’s askin?”

“Me, sir. Solomon Gorge Hensley.”

The teeth slowly disappeared. “What you say boy?”

The sudden low tenor in his tone sent Solomon’s heart hammering. “Solomon Gorge Hensley, sir.”

“Where you from?”

“From Wheeling. My mother was Deidra Hensley. My father was from Morgantown. But I was raised in Edmond, Oklahoma.”

“Where’d you get a name like that?” he said, annoyed.

Solomon gave a dry chuckle, still holding his hands up. “My mom. She liked the name.”

“Who’d you say your momma was, boy?”

“Deidra Hensley.”

“Her maiden name son,” he snapped.

“Uh, Deidra… Thames. Get in the truck,” he ordered the incessantly growling dog.

The man lowered the gun finally but those green eyes didn’t leave him. “What you wantin from me,” he muttered, sounding unhappier than ever.

“Miss Mary Bartley said you could help me.”

A few seconds later, he slapped his leg, laughing. “Miss Mary? How’s she doin, Lort I ain’t seen her in ages.”

“She’s doing fine,” Solomon said, happy for the connection. “I’m her caretaker.”

“Where Author at?” he asked softly.

“He died about a year ago.”

“What you got on your mind boy,” he demanded, back to suspicious.

“Well…”

“Don’t be pissin round ya words now. Go on.”

“I met a girl, her name is Chaos.”

“Chaos,” he said, sounding disgusted.

“I know this might sound crazy—“

“Don’t’ be usin that word in these woods,” he barked.

Solomon started again, carefully. “I had a dream of a woman. She was calling me. Solomon Gorge. Solomon Gorge. That same night, I found a woman half dead, hanging in the trees by my house. I took her home and she made me swear not to tell. But after a few days of digging, I learned she’s into some strange things.”

“Like?”

“She says she was adopted. She calls her father Master. And she mentioned something Miss Mary said I’m not supposed to say.”

“That a fack.” He propped a foot on Solomon’s bumper. “I’ll be the determination of that.” The light of the moon cast just enough illumination to give his outline. It finally hit Solomon why the man was black. Because he was black!

“Desecration,” Solomon said quietly, just in case it was bad to say.

The man spit on his right, eying him the whole time. “What the hell you doin, tryin to raise the dead round heeya?”

“No sir,” Solomon said. “But I think she’s in trouble.”

“Who?”

“The woman.”

“With the crazy name?” Solomon eyed him and the man shot out, “Yeah, I can say it, but you can’t.”

“Yes, Chaos. She left my house and I think she’s going back to the place where she came from.”

“Which is where?”

“I don’t know, that’s what I’m here to ask about.”

“How’s I’m supposed to know where she at?”

Solomon finally shook his head, looking around. “I don’t know.” He looked back at him. “What is desecration?”

He spit again, eying him and Solomon realized he had tobacco in his lower lip. “You like playin with the dead, son?”

“No sir,” Solomon said. “Not at all.”

“Well you is.” He seemed to need to spit after every exchange now. “You see that place behine you?”

“The asylum?”

“Yes, the asylum,” he stressed perfectly, the whites showing around his eyes briefly.

Solomon nodded. “I saw it.”

“Then you sawed yuh ansuh.” He seemed to shift from heavy accent to proper dialect every other word.

“The asylum has the answers?”

The whites of his eyes slowly became more visible as did his few teeth. “You gots it city boy.”

He wasn’t going to just divulge. Solomon thought about Chaos and what might be happening to her and leveled his own glare on the old man. “How about you share a story that would lead me where I need to go?”

Thick silence spanned the seconds before his cackling echoed in the woods. “Shaaaaaare a storeee, you say.” His smile disappeared and he angled slit green eyes on him. “The story is tellin itself, boy. Has been for years. Just ain’t nobody listenen!” he squealed like it annoyed him. "The town be tellin the story ova and ova but they too smart to see it.” He gave another cackled laugh that raised the hairs on Solomon's arms. “The dead looooove to talk Mr. Solomon Gorge, they loooooove to sing and dance, oh how they looooove to wrong those rights.”

“Wrong rights?” Solomon wondered.

The man winked at him. “Now you hearin me!” he exclaimed as though Solomon weren’t confused.

“Check out page twenty-five, Mr. Solomon Gorge. You might find it quite entertaining. As well as page three. And four and five and six. Hell, all the pages is just exploding with fun!” he strained in excitement.

“What pages?”

“Of the story! The one the town be tellin ova and ova and ova!”

“Where is this written?”

“I just tole you, it’s eveeee where, boy you hard a hearin? Use that bright mind of yours or did you forget how?”

Solomon eyed him. “Do… we know each other somehow?”

“Whooooowee!” he yelled. “Now your cookin. I tell you what. You go check out the cemetary right up the road. Then come back and see me, I might just have a lil sumpin sumpin fuh ya.”

“When should I come?” he asked.

“Gimme bout… three days I spect.”

“You got it,” Solomon said, stretching his hand out to the man. “Thank you sir.”

****

Once he was out of the creepy ass asylum woods with the creepy black man, he shut the gate back and used his flashlight to find a spot to turn the truck around. Driving backwards another step wasn’t happening. He needed to be able to haul ass should he want to.

He poked along the road now, searching for the graveyard. He finally spotted what might be it, creepily close to the asylum. Solomon parked and stared at the open field under the nearly full moon. Lopsided tombstones looking for all the world like the dead had done climbed out of them glowed under the starless sky. The fuck kind of creepy mess was this?

Solomon fetched his flashlight and got out. “Come on now, boy,” he eyed the dog unmoving in the back of the truck, “…don’t quit on me now.”

Starting mid-way, Solomon weaved in and out of the headstones, trying to be careful not to step on anything that would be considered offensive to the living or the dead. But something told him being there at all was a real pisser-offer.

“How about I think you need a name,” he said to the dog at his heels as he flashed his light at the stones. “How about Champ? You like that name?” he muttered, moving the beam over one cracked slab of stone after another. “I don’t see anything, Champ,” he whispered. “You?”

Ready to turn back, he paused. “Nothing on these. I don’t get it.” He turned around, thinking that odd. Hurrying along the next row, he found more of the same. “What is this, I don’t get it,” he muttered, going faster now. “Whoa.” He paused at one. “Erica… Mason. Died June 4, 1951.” He quickly shined the light on the next and the next and the next. “Who are the rest of these dead people?”

Frustrated with his lack of answers, he made a hard mental note of the only name he saw so far. Surely there had to be a less creepy way to find out who was at the asylum, less suspicious looking too.

He hurried back to his truck, praying that maybe Chaos had gone back to the house. Maybe she’d just gone off into the woods to think like she’d said.

****

Chaos’s head lolled side to side. The screech of the gurney wheels she’d heard in her dream came as slow motion echo. Even the walls, the colors and the voices did. Grandmother had blessed her with a little getaway vehicle when she’d told her what Master had wanted. She wasn’t supposed to give her anything for pain, but she did. Judging by how high Chaos was, she’d given her a lot. Chaos hoped she didn’t get beaten too badly for it. Everything was at a crucial time with the Desecration. She’d tried to stop Grandmother but really she hadn’t tried as hard as she could or should have.

Special Desecrations happened on the seventh day of the seventh year but this Desecration was one once in a lifetime.

But the Fourth Floor was Chaos’s weakness. And Silence’s and Chosen’s. She was sure there would never be a time when it wouldn’t be. Some horrors you couldn’t overcome. Some you could only hope to survive every time you endured them.

“She is to be coherent!” Master’s fury could be heard even through the drug's effect. “Now I will have to raise the volts, thanks to your compassion!”

Grandmother’s cries dragged out deep, sounding like slow laughter in a tunnel.

“And to atone, you too will endure the fate you save her from. Do I not have enough to think of without worrying over your fretful silliness! I am the Order’s Master, I have a charge, a responsibility, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for complete restoration!”

All of his words boomed and banged like rolling thunder in a tank, while Grandmother’s deep sobs sounded like scary roars of a metal beast. Everything spun in Chaos’s mind, ears, and body until she didn’t know where she was, when, or what was happening.

She was jerked around, shoved, pushed, restrained. But this time when the metal teeth of the brutal Desecration bit into her mind and body, the jolt made everything crystal clear. It was too late. She was gone from there, beyond the pain and agony. She sat on the edge of that pond with Solomon. The sun was glorious and he was swimming, beckoning her in, reaching with his hand to her. “Come here, Beautiful.”

She went to him and wasn’t afraid. The water was warm and she knew she was safe as he held her in his arms, staring deeply into her eyes. He spun round and round with her in the water, his face more beautiful and bright than ever. It took her breath away. Because it shone there in his forever blue eyes. That look of heaven was because of her.
All because of her.

Because he loved her.

*****
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See you Later,
Lucian