Screampark: Sneak Peek
If you can scream… you’re still alive!
Screampark is almost ready. Are you? Just in case, I thought I’d offer up a tiny sample of the delights you’ll find between the covers. Here, for your reading pleasure, is the first chapter of my next book. Read on my lovelies.
10:15 PM Lexington, Kentucky
October 25, 1927
The night was hot for October. What should have been a chilly build-up to a splendid All Hallows Eve was muggy and unseasonably tense. Not a solitary breeze blew through the dead leaves that desperately clung to the limbs of the surrounding trees.
Night. It’s black shadows and blacker secrets hid the sins of mankind across the land. Sins of the flesh, sins of the soul, sins of intoxication. But in the eyes of the just, sin could easily be forgiven. No matter how great, how vicious.
The sound of screams tore through the cavernous warehouse. In between each scream, the angry ring of a saw punctuated the cries.
“Lucky Lamont Lewis. However did you find yourself to be tied up to a table in my warehouse?” Vincent ‘The Vicious’ Manchetti chewed on his cigar as he spoke down to the man on the table.
“Vinny… I swear to you – ” Sweat and snot ran down Lucky Lamont checks and dropped to the dirt floor of the warehouse.
“You swear? You fucking swear? And just what would you swear on? The Bible? Well, my friend, I don’t believe in the Bible, so what good would that do you? Dare you say you’d swear on your dear mother’s grave? Because if you were to say that, I’d have to slap you around a bit for daring to besmirch your mother’s name.” Vincent tapped his cigar on the forehead of Lucky. Fortunately the cigar hadn’t been lit in some time.
Lucky knew he was losing precious time. “Vinny – whatever it is you think I’ve done, you’re wrong.”
“Wrong? Me? Who are you to tell me I am wrong? Let me tell you who – no one. What you did was sell your cheap swill you call liquor on my grounds. My fucking grounds!”
Vincent grabbed Lucky by the cheeks and forced his head side to side. “Look around you Lucky. This warehouse? Mine. These grounds? Mine. This territory? MY FUCKING TERRITORY! And you… you dared blaspheme against me and peddle your shit to my clients on my property.”
Vincent nodded to one of his goons who fired up the table saw again. The angry roar of the over-sized motor and blade sent chills across the skin of every man in the room.
“Lucky, do you know why they call me Vinny ‘The Vicious’ Manchetti? No? Let me explain. Believe it or not, the table saw is one of the more common means of execution among my type. Why? I have no God damn idea. Most of the men who employ its means tend to be a bit…oh, what’s the word I’m looking for? Oh, I remember… humane. You see, most everyone else send their victims in head first. Why? It’s a kinder means of eliminating the trespasser. Me? I’m not so much a fan of that method. I prefer my victims suffer. So… what I do is send them into the blade manhood first. It’s not until the blade eats its way up into the middle of the gut that the victim passes out in shock. By then, the rest of the cutting goes unfelt and the victim dies. Personally? I’d like to figure out a way to keep them all alive until the blade hits the throat. Maybe some day. But until then, I’ll have to settle with hearing the screams of the dying for a brief minute or so. I’m okay with that. Why? Because I know one hundred and twenty seconds (give or take a few) brings such exquisite agony to the victim. Oh Lucky, I could weep with joy at the sound of the screams. Even the smell of the flesh as it cooks on the hot blade – it all gives me such goose flesh.”
Vincent laughed as Lucky snorted and coughed up a mouthful of phlegm.
“Please, have mercy on me Vinny. I have a wife and kids.”
“Lucky, if you bullshit me any more, I’ll make this worse. So help me God I can make this so much worse.” Vincent stared down into Lucky’s eyes from above. “You don’t want me to make this any worse than it already is.”
Another nod to the goons. The saw revved up to killing speed. Very slowly, the board Lucky was strapped to moved forward.
“Any last words Lucky? Think you can speak between sobs?”
“Rot in hell Vinny! I hope your soul burns in the flames of hate for eternity!” Lucky Lewis screamed out just before the rusted metal of the blade bit into the skin of his penis and testicles. Blood, meat, and cries of agony flew up and out in all directions.
The echoes of Lucky Lamont Lewis filtered out into the cold night air. Just before shock and blood loss took his life, he swore to Vinny ‘The Vicious‘ Manchetti he would return to deliver the killer’s soul to the devil.
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