God of the Dead (Seasons of Blood #1): A dark paranormal crime thriller novel by Elias Anderson
Authors: Elias Anderson
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he should call his parents too, but after what had already happened, he just wasn’t in the mood for it.
Down the hall he heard a door creak open. He waited for the sound of it slamming shut.
He finished twisting the joint and ran it through his mouth to seal it, then held it out, gently turning it between his fingers, admiring the symmetry of it. There were a couple slow footsteps in the hall and he set the joint in a small tray on the coffee table and grabbed his remote control off the arm of the couch and flipped on the TV. Talk show, skip, talk show, skip, infomercial, skip, Dr. Phil , skip, another couple clumping footsteps in the hall, and then he settled on the weather forecast. The forecast was just ending, though, and the weatherman tossed it back to the anchorwoman, with her perfect smile and tan skin even at the end of fall in the Pacific Northwest, the result of a tanning bed and a few hours in a makeup chair for sure. She cautioned any parents watching children in the room that the next story might be upsetting and gave these hypothetical parents time to scoot their hypothetical kids out of the room.
“New developments tonight in a series of strange and morbid thefts involving the bodies of the recently deceased in the greater metro area,” the anchorwoman said. “As we rerouted at the noon area, the county morgue reported the disappearance of a body that was awaiting autopsy to determine cause of death, which we have been told was of a suspicious and possibly criminal nature. There has been another instance of that same crime today, this time from a city hospital. When asked if he believes the crimes to be related, the official police spokesperson chose not to comment—”
What the fuck, AJ thought, clicking the TV off. He wanted to move, to go, but at the same time didn’t know what to do or have a destination to head to. He wanted to talk to Clover, but he'd just seen her this afternoon and he didn't want to come on too strong. He didn't really believe in the three-day rule or whatever the fuck it was; if he liked a girl, he called her. She'd told him at breakfast that she was busy this evening, though, and he didn’t want to interrupt her time with her friends.
AJ sighed and picked the joint back up.
There were a few more clumping steps in the hall and this time he heard a kind of groan and someone scratching at his door. His heart sped up in his chest at the surprise. He put the joint back down went to the door, looking through the peephole.
He recognized the woman on the other side after a moment; he didn’t really know her but he lived down the hall from her, and he’d sometimes hold the door open for her when she was bringing in a load of groceries, or they would exchange polite nods and awkward smiles when they were checking their mail at the same time.
It took him longer to recognize her than it should have, but then again, he’d never seen her naked, soaking wet, and covered with blood.
“Holy shit,” AJ said, scrambling to unlock his door. He opened it and she stood there, covered in blood like an extra in a horror film, her hair in wet tangles, her skin pale.
“Oh my god, are you okay? It’s Karen, right? Are you—”
Then her hands were up and she was coming for him. The cold, somehow fishy feel of her fingers scrambling around his neck and glancing off his cheek as he turned his head made his flesh crawl. He took a step back and almost fell over the coffee table, and she came into his apartment, her mouth hanging slack.
She barked out a single syllable, her voice thick and gurgling, like she was speaking around a throat full of infected phlegm. It sounded like she said “ Book.” She held her hands up again and came for him. Her hands gripped his shirt and one of her cold, soft fingers hooked into his mouth. He gagged and resisted the urge to bite only because he didn’t want the taste of her flesh and blood in his mouth. Instead, he grabbed one of her wrists and
Down the hall he heard a door creak open. He waited for the sound of it slamming shut.
He finished twisting the joint and ran it through his mouth to seal it, then held it out, gently turning it between his fingers, admiring the symmetry of it. There were a couple slow footsteps in the hall and he set the joint in a small tray on the coffee table and grabbed his remote control off the arm of the couch and flipped on the TV. Talk show, skip, talk show, skip, infomercial, skip, Dr. Phil , skip, another couple clumping footsteps in the hall, and then he settled on the weather forecast. The forecast was just ending, though, and the weatherman tossed it back to the anchorwoman, with her perfect smile and tan skin even at the end of fall in the Pacific Northwest, the result of a tanning bed and a few hours in a makeup chair for sure. She cautioned any parents watching children in the room that the next story might be upsetting and gave these hypothetical parents time to scoot their hypothetical kids out of the room.
“New developments tonight in a series of strange and morbid thefts involving the bodies of the recently deceased in the greater metro area,” the anchorwoman said. “As we rerouted at the noon area, the county morgue reported the disappearance of a body that was awaiting autopsy to determine cause of death, which we have been told was of a suspicious and possibly criminal nature. There has been another instance of that same crime today, this time from a city hospital. When asked if he believes the crimes to be related, the official police spokesperson chose not to comment—”
What the fuck, AJ thought, clicking the TV off. He wanted to move, to go, but at the same time didn’t know what to do or have a destination to head to. He wanted to talk to Clover, but he'd just seen her this afternoon and he didn't want to come on too strong. He didn't really believe in the three-day rule or whatever the fuck it was; if he liked a girl, he called her. She'd told him at breakfast that she was busy this evening, though, and he didn’t want to interrupt her time with her friends.
AJ sighed and picked the joint back up.
There were a few more clumping steps in the hall and this time he heard a kind of groan and someone scratching at his door. His heart sped up in his chest at the surprise. He put the joint back down went to the door, looking through the peephole.
He recognized the woman on the other side after a moment; he didn’t really know her but he lived down the hall from her, and he’d sometimes hold the door open for her when she was bringing in a load of groceries, or they would exchange polite nods and awkward smiles when they were checking their mail at the same time.
It took him longer to recognize her than it should have, but then again, he’d never seen her naked, soaking wet, and covered with blood.
“Holy shit,” AJ said, scrambling to unlock his door. He opened it and she stood there, covered in blood like an extra in a horror film, her hair in wet tangles, her skin pale.
“Oh my god, are you okay? It’s Karen, right? Are you—”
Then her hands were up and she was coming for him. The cold, somehow fishy feel of her fingers scrambling around his neck and glancing off his cheek as he turned his head made his flesh crawl. He took a step back and almost fell over the coffee table, and she came into his apartment, her mouth hanging slack.
She barked out a single syllable, her voice thick and gurgling, like she was speaking around a throat full of infected phlegm. It sounded like she said “ Book.” She held her hands up again and came for him. Her hands gripped his shirt and one of her cold, soft fingers hooked into his mouth. He gagged and resisted the urge to bite only because he didn’t want the taste of her flesh and blood in his mouth. Instead, he grabbed one of her wrists and
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