Home

I will, indeedy-do WILL, update this damn site soon. Really. Honest.

First posted on Feb. 25th, 2011 at 3:30 PM

I felt sorry that I had no shoes,
        until I met a man that had no feet.

  I said to him, “boy, bet you save a lot of money from not having to buy shoes.”

First posted back in Oct. 17th, 2011

     Last year, I entered a short story in the Renderosity Halloween contest. Other categories were for artwork which makes sense considering it is an art forum. The theme for the contest was Urban Legends. Forgot how many entries there were for the story competition, sixteen maybe, but my story won out.

     For those who enter writing contests; it really helps to read the rules of the contest. Just mentioning.

I wrote it in one or two days. Here is Blood on Ice;

Blood On Ice

By

Eldon Litchfield

      Pauly struggled toward consciousness as dim memories from the bar swam through his mind. There had been a pretty lady. She had bought him a drink.

      He felt cold and pain. The sharp clack of a plastic hotel bucket of ice being emptied on his bare skin brought Pauly to mental clarity. He locked eyes with the malformed man with the bucket. Pauly would have screamed but his jaw felt like lead. The strange man was the size of a thin twelve-year-old child, the head appearing too big to be supported by the slender frame. Sparse patches of facial hair marked the dry and scabbed skin. The man’s mouth opened to reveal disproportionate teeth set in red gums and a tongue wiggling like it wanted to escape. “Nuh, yud nut sup-pozed be wake yet! Nuh! Sis-tur!”

      Pauly saw the woman from the bar enter the bathroom. Her tight red dress was now covered by a stained smock. A shining scalpel twirled between her latex-gloved fingers. “I thought that batch was old. Things expire, you know, just lose their punch. I’m sorry you woke up, Pauly. You seemed like a nice guy.”

      Paul tried to sit up, but his muscles refused to respond. “W-what…what are you–“

      “I’ll explain things,” said the pretty woman. “Roggie, be a dear and fetch a mini-cooler. And get more ice.” The small man bolted out of the bathroom. The woman looked at Pauly and sighed. “Silly me made a mistake and grabbed an older vial of…hm, let’s call it “sleepy juice”, and that’s why you’re awake. Normally, you’d be out for the entire procedure.”

      “You can’t … this isn’t–“

      “Y’see, there are many wealthy individuals that need things like kidneys, for themselves or a family member, and are willing to pay a nice sum. It’s just business. Don’t take it personally. And you really did seem like a nice guy.”

      Pauly concentrated on making his mouth work. “But I’ll be okay, right? In the ice, until I can call for help?” Roggie returned carrying a small red plastic cooler and a piece of notebook paper with clear tape attached. Pauly could make out the words CALL 911 FOR HELP. Larger shapes hidden in the shadow of the foyer moved behind Roggie.

      The woman shook her head. “No-no, Roggie, not this time. Throw that away. Times are tough all over, Pauly. The recession, higher gas prices; it’s just a mess.”

      Pauly struggled to call for help, but his voice hadn’t the strength. He stared at the woman. “What do you…this isn’t how–“

      “Things go? No, not normally. But bills have to get paid. Need to adapt for the future.” The other forms moved closer to the bathroom door edge, revealing misshapen bodies like their brother, all carrying colored mini-coolers. Pauly pushed against the tub, but his limbs still were unable to find the power needed for escape.

      “We want everything this time, Pauly. Whatever you’ve got, goes. Really, just sorry.” The woman placed a folded towel on the floor before kneeling on the linoleum. The scalpel appeared again like a magician’s trick. “And just so, so sorry about the juice not working. My bad. Help hold him down, boys.” The twisted men pushed down on Pauly’s body as the woman flexed her hands.

      “Oh, Roggie–go and get some more ice, and just put it in the coolers. That’s the good thing about hotels, always have lots of ice.”

The End

Originally posted on May. 1st, 2013 at 5:31 PM

In 2011 I won 2nd place in a Halloween short story contest sponsored by Renderosity.The theme of the contest was Zombie Apocalypse. Later, after watching an episode of Walking Dead I realized that the content of the story was very similar to the predicament of Morgan Jones, the man faced with the sight of his dead wife walking around. I was annoyed with myself thinking that I unintentionally plagiarized. Ah well, you tell me if it is too close.

The story has two titles; “Your sweet and Loving Face” and “Love Letter.” I feel the former title is better. Anyhoo, here is “Your Sweet and Loving Love Letter.” Or make up your own title.

TITLE_______________

There is so much I wanted to say to you, but now that is impossible. If only you had told me that you’d been bitten. Maybe you didn’t realize it when it happened. There just was so much confusion.

I know it isn’t you out there. But I can not destroy that which has your face. I hear you…I mean that thing, shuffling around the house. It moves from the laundry room to the living room, then through the kitchen to the base of the stairs before repeating the pattern, as if mimicking your actions from life. Sometimes, it is quiet and I’ve peeked out the door to see it in the hallway simply swaying side to side in the dark. One time, I was awakened by noise from the kitchen; I honestly believe it was going through the motions to make coffee.

I know that it isn’t you. I refused then to acknowledge that fact when you … it did those things. I guess I went a little crazy, believing that I was defending my woman from attack. It’s all just a big mess.

Okay, here’s what happened, baby.

We went with the neighbors to Chester Street see what was going on and ran into a pack of the damned things. Harry swung his baseball bat around like a drunken madman. Joan with her crowbar proved to be lethal to the things. But there were so many. Never dreamed that the things would make their way this far from the disaster center. They swarmed Fred and Billy right before the cavalry came. The rest of us just ran from the attack as the National Guard bellowed out the orders over the gunfire to go home and lock the doors. We ran, all right.

I should have known, when you said you were so tired. How pale you looked, how dazed your expression, but you said that you only needed to lay down. We sent Julie back home, you went to lie with the baby, you acted so tired, why would I think otherwise. The nearby gunfire echoed outside. I loudly said that it sounded like popcorn being popped, just so you could hear me from the other room. Were you already gone at that point? Did you hear me at all?

A few minutes later, I came in to check on you and found … what you … it … did to our daughter. You were … it was … eating her little … the blood was just so … so much blood everywhere. It wasn’t you, I know that. I screamed, though. For a long time, I screamed.

I ran outside. The neighbors came. You … it, damnit, that thing followed. But I only saw your face, even though its lips were covered in our baby’s blood, there was only your face. I had to believe that under those dull eyes, under all that bloody mess, you were hidden underneath. That I could dig you out and somehow save you.

Harry freaked. He charged with his bat held high. Understand babe, I only saw you, not it. My little .38 was still in my pocket. I fired. Joan freaked. Everyone freaked. I shot and shot and shot. I was protecting you, babe. That was the only thought in my head; that I was protecting you.

The outside has been quiet for a while. No more popcorn. I wonder who won on Chester Street? I wonder if the thing with your face will ever walk up the stairs to our bedroom. I’m waiting up here in case it does. Not sure what I will do if it does. It’s not you, babe. But it has your sweet face.

It has your sweet loving face.

The End

Posted back in Jan. 2nd, 2015 at 11:03 PM.

Below is my short story that won second place in a 2013 Halloween story contest. It came in right at the word count limit of 1000 words. The theme of the contest was “Things I’ve Learned From Watching Horror Movies.” I felt a little rushed writing it, could have been better, but here it is for your amusment.

“And If There’s One Thing . . . “

by Eldon Litchfield

   Troy watched the ludicrous level of destruction.

   The 40-story gorgosaurus-ankylosaur hybrid roared to the heavens before smashing its tail into a factory. Debris flew in all directions. Clouds of dust covered the streets. Fighter jets zoomed overhead, launching their high-tech yet inaccurate missiles at the creature. The creature roared again before headbutting an office building.

   Troy watched the monster walk through his apartment building, making that the third home lost to kaiju. His wife was right; they were worse than mosquitoes.

   Their possessions; baby pictures, clothes, heirlooms, Kin no Unko collection, were buried under broken bricks and shattered glass.

   The creature became distracted by a giant five-headed flying turtle breathing blue fire on everything. The monsters moved downtown to do battle as the shrieking jets continued to fire ineffectual missiles. Troy noted that the missiles struck the landscape more than the monsters, and wondered if the pilot’s mission was to destroy buildings before the monsters got to them.

   Troy searched the lump of bricks for any surviving possessions.

   Troy tried to convince Kiku that Tokyo wasn’t for them.

   “No, I told you before we married that I didn’t want to live anywhere else.”

   “But the US is nice-“

   “And have to deal with all the zombie outbreaks? If there’s one thing I’ve learned is that the States have zombies.” Troy agreed that there were a lot of zombie outbreaks.

   “Well, how about South America?”

   “And worry about all the giant anacondas?” Troy remembered that there were thousands of giant anacondas there, all with voracious appetites and moving with the speed of cheetahs.

   “Europe? The company has branches there,” queried Troy.

   Kiku sighed. “With all the vampires, rambling stitched corpse-men, Satanic cults, and mad scientists? What if little Joey is bitten by a werewolf?”

   “Africa?” Troy looked hopeful.

   “Africa … is hot,” said Kiku.

   Troy agreed that Africa was hot, and if there was one thing he had learned it was that there were a lot of angry sorcery-charged mummies running around with vendettas. Troy was hit with inspiration.

   “What if we stay in Japan, but moved to the country? Joey can experience the outdoors. I swear, your cities are magnets to giant prehistoric salamanders and radioactive butterflies. Guess it’s the bright lights along with the collection of smells.”

   Kiku glared at him.

   “I’m not saying that the cities stink, just that to a giant lizard they smell like a fun time.” Kiku smacked Troy, but agreed that the country was a good idea.

   Troy bought a quaint house settled near a picturesque stream. The locals seemed friendly, Joey was fitting in at school, and no kaiju. The 2 hour commute to Tokyo was rough, but at least Troy knew the house would be there when he came home.

   He was bothered finding small spots of water about the house, and the time Joey walked into the living room wiggling his pointer finger while chanting nijustas … nijustas, but Troy thought it was just a creepy phase six year olds went through. Troy’s attitude changed after talking with his neighbor Mr. Morioka.

   “You are cursed,” Morioka said between sips of sake. “When you watched the video tape at the house-“

   “We don’t have a VHS player,” said Troy. “And what tape?”

   “Or DVD,” spat out Morioka.

   “Uh, there was no DVD disk at the house,” stated Troy. “If there is one thing I’ve learned it’s to not play unmarked tapes or DVDs.”

   Mr. Morioka appeared annoyed.

   “Listen round-eye, whatever damn format you have at your house, then-“

   “But there wasn’t anything laying about.”

   “Which house do you live at?” asked Morioka.

   Troy stated his address.

   “Oh! A poor girl died there in the well … “

   Troy interrupted. “There’s no well on the property.”

   “Oh, house A or B?”

   “B,” said Troy.

   “Ah,” said Morioka. “A child drowned at the stream there.”

   Troy thought for a minute. “My wife is thinking of signing my son up for swimming lessons.”

   The old man sighed. “If you take him to these classes, he will die in some weird accident.”

   “Then I won’t take him.”

   “Then he will drown because he didn’t know how to swim.” The old man shook his head. “If there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s that Japanese ghosts will just mess you over. Nothing one can do.”

   Troy mentally digested the news. “So every house here-“

   “Haunted as a muther. Except for mine. It’s prefab, so it’s ghost free. I guess.”

   Troy told his wife about the spirit, believing it to be nonsense.

   Kiku sighed. “Well, that explains why I kept seeing a tormented child’s face in the dishwater. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that denying their existence makes spirits really want to kill you. What do we do?”

   Troy called his grandfather in America for advice.

   “If’n thar’s one thing I’ve learnt about handlin’ evil critters it’s that you gotta take the fight to them,” said Grandpa. “You gotta Bruce Campbell the suckers. Blow their damn heads off. If it grows back, do it again. They got chainsaws over thar in China?”

   “Japan, we’re … never mind. Yes, we have chainsaws.”

   “Well, get a mess of those too. Prepare yourself. It’s war.”

   “Grandpa, Japan has strict gun laws.”

   Grandpa chuckled. “If’n thar’s one thing I’ve learnt about these situations, legal stuff like that somehow gets ignored.”

   Facing shotgun blasts whenever oozing from the kitchen faucet, its stream set ablaze with gasoline, and frightening hand-made traps set at every faucet and drain, the ghost child grew worried. Worry became fear when, while stalking the boy at the swimming pool, the ghost saw the father topside wearing scuba gear and holding a chainsaw. He wore a t-shirt reading “Daddy’s Got A Present For You. RWWWHAR!” The ghost didn’t know any way a chainsaw could work underwater, but was afraid that the father did.

   And if there was one thing it had learned, it was that it was sometimes best to let things go.

The End

Written on Feb. 6th, 2013.

Back in 1987 there was this thing called New Age.

 With the passing of the Apocalypse (which in a way is like waiting for the cable guy; you wait for them to come but they never show up and then you call the cable company which results in the date moved back so you wait for him again.) I reflected on other similar events and wondered if they were so off.
 Simply, there was an event called the Harmonic Convergence that was suppose to herald in a new age of wonderful things. I'm going to make a brief argument that the convergence did happen but we just don't know what to do with it.
 Birth is not painless. There is never something for nothing. There is a responsibility for every gift. There was no magic arrival of hordes of angelic beings piloting UFOs that went about busily sweeping away ignorance and stupidity with their enlightened-saturated brooms, all accompanied by the music of David Wright. However, there has come about an amazing openness that has allowed expression and help to those in need, forgotten, or abandoned. Let's look at some claims made prior to the convergence.

Quote:
The convergence is purported to have “corresponded with a great shift in the earth’s energy from warlike to peaceful.”

 Well, if you look at the years since 1987, society in America, and it's the reader's opinion if this applies to the rest of the world, has shifted to accepting what was once not acceptable. Gay rights, women's rights, minority rights, etc. Then there is the greater knowledge of mental and physical conditions and understanding of those that suffer from such conditions; depression, bipolar, ADHD, AIDS, etc. Sexual predators are exposed and now their victims can speak out when before they were imprisoned by fear and shame. Individuals find solidarity in groups when they once thought they were alone. Information has become so easily accessible.  With increased knowledge came greater understanding and acceptance of those believed to be so different. Tyrannical regimes that once controlled news and other information have discovered they can no longer do so. The oppressed were no longer feeling isolated or powerless.

Quote:
. . . many of the planet’s “false structures of separation” would collapse.

 Uh, believed I kinda covered that in the above. These quotes, I fully admit, were cut & pasted from Wikipedia. Not sure who said them. So I'm lazy today, forgive me.
 You get the idea. We have these amazing gifts, these technological advances, that have opened up these astonishing doors and broke through once thought impregnable walls. It is up to us to use these advances to a beneficial effect. In other words, we have to work at harmony and peacefulness, not expect it to wondrously plop down in our laps. We have tools, we need to use them. It involves effort. Work. Some pain. Some sacrifice. Don't be silent. Don't be afraid. Don't be blind.
 Birth is not painless. There is never something for nothing. There is a responsibility for every gift.

Written on May. 28th, 2012.

As of this writing, it is a mere 206 days to the End ‘O The World. Well, at least according to some folk’s interpretation of the Mayan calender. Plenty of shopping time to get something for that Doomsday Prepper on your gift list. How is it going to happen? You have quite a variety of choices:

1) Various versions of an economic collapse leading to a Mad Max kind of world.
2) Galactic Alignment causing some sort of weirdness.
3) Shift in the magnetic poles.
4) Ancient Mayans just really freakin’ hated us and wanted to mess with us from beyond the grave. We go ape shit and destroy ourselves.
5) Hidden mystery Planet X will smash into the Earth.
6) World War III. ( various causes )
7) Great Cthulhu will arise in anger from his eons long slumber, demanding that we stop writing these stories about him because in reality, “I’m a really nice guy.” From that point, folks from Innsmouth will star in their own reality TV show with some horrible title like “Real World R’lyeh,” “Living Dagonite,” “Doin’ It In Dunwich,” or “Survivor: Arkham.”
8) What was I talkin’ about? Oh yeah, Doomsday scenarios.
9) Great awakening to greater spiritual consciousness, which sounds good to me. Guess the End Time part of this scenario means the shift away from old paradigms of thought to a more enlightened outlook, via New Age spirituality.
10) The Rapture.
11) The Earth will stop spinning.
12) Because Nostradamus, in some obscure quatrain, said so. Nuff said.

 It amazes me how many people are latching onto this mind set of doom. Not just doom, but DOOM. But then again, we humans have this thing about dates and prophecies. I remember on New Years Eve of 1999 there was the idea that once humanity crossed over into 2000 it would be the End Times via Y2K, pole shift, aliens, Rapture, what-have-you. When Medieval Europe was approaching the year 1000, some people believed that the date coincided with the end of the world for no real reason except that it was the number One Thousand, which sounds like it should be important. We all know how that turned out.* It wasn't so long ago that Harold Camping predicted the End Date to be May 21 of 2011. We also know how that one turned out.** I also find it interesting that some so-called Biblical Prophets, like Jack Van Impe, who has been predicting the End of the world since the 1950's and hosts the "Biblical Prophecy Portal of the Internet," have been using Nostradamus and the 2012 Mayan thing to authenticate their interpretations of future events. Impe has been spouting out the same predictions over decades, altering current events to flesh out his view. Compare a recent broadcast to one twenty years ago and it will look the same except Impe and his wife are a bit older. Never mind that all previous predictions have fallen flat, they continue on. What is weird is the use of these, what I'm sure these guys would normally label, non-Christian sources to validate their Biblical predictions.

 I believe that the Earth, and most of us, will still be around on Dec. 22 of 2012. What I wonder about are the folk that had prepared for the Doom. What do they do now? When Camp's prediction came and went, many people who had believed that there would be no more world on May 22 went into a depression, despondent over giving away their belongings and having their spiritual desires deflated. I would like these shows featuring Preparers of Doom to do a follow up on the people. Not to make fun of them but just to see what is their state of mind. What do you do when Doomsday doesn't happen? One would think relief, but these people spent a good part of their lives, not to mention money, getting ready for the Big One. It's like spending your money on ski equipment and taking time for ski lessons only to find out you are going to the beach. Maybe like Impe, they'll just switch their fears to another day. One of them is bound to stick.

 One last thing; in all of these Doom Prepper shows the preparers spend time, effort, and energy in obtaining gold, believing that the economy will tank and precious metals will be the only trade worthy material. Serious waste of resources. If I had a pantry of food and you came to me with the offer of exchanging gold for food, I would agree to two cans of potatoes and one can of chicken for ten pounds of gold. If you don't like it, have fun eating your gold. No one is going to be impressed with gold if yer livin' in Mad Max world. It really has no use except that it's pretty and is a fantastic paper weight.

*If you don’t know, SPOILER ALERT: the Earth went on existing.
** If you don’t know, SPOILER ALERT: We are still here.

Exodus 14:21
Moses put his hand out over the sea, because he’s always doing that, putting out his hand, and then the Lord made the water split and dried the ground. And that was a nice touch, drying the ground, so people’s feet don’t get wet. And the people of Israel went forth and such on dry ground, since God had just dried it, with water walls on the left and right. The Egyptians went after them mean like, because they’re always doing that, going after other people mean like, right in the middle of it all. Pharaoh had his horses, the guys driving them, and chariots. And what I was wondering was what happened to the fish? Are they in the water wall, or they just go away, or did the Israelites pick them up, maybe to eat them later or to put them back when the water came back? Where did the fish go? That’s what I wanted to know. So I asked Moses what happened to the fish. He said, “what?”
I said,”the fish, what happened to the fish?”
And he said, “the fish?” And I said,”yeah, the fish.”
Moses said, “I don’t know, they’re fish, ain’t they?”
I said, “yeah, they’re fish.” So I got quiet, just wanting to know what happened to them. Not like it was a big deal.
Later Moses looks at me and says,”they’re fish, for chrissakes.” Moses is always repeating something minutes later after the topic is dropped. I didn’t say anything else. I told him that the Egyptians were after us, he just shrugged. Like it didn’t matter. After the People of Israel were all safe on the other side and the Egyptians were trapped between the water walls, the Lord let the water go and smote the Egyptians, every single one of them. He was always doing that, smiting. And they died. Later, Moses looked at me and said, “Jesus Christ, they’re fish.”

Welcome to WordPress! This is your first post. Edit or delete it to take the first step in your blogging journey.