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    Along the Splintered Path
    Along the Splintered Path
    Along the Splintered Path
    Ebook96 pages1 hour

    Along the Splintered Path

    By AJ Brown

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    About this ebook

    “AJ Brown’s debut novella presents three short stories of moralistic caution, human failings, and dark, unrelenting horror. He has a fresh, unique voice that brings the characters to life with a skill and experience that makes this a real page turner all the way to its deliciously macabre ending.”

    --Starburst Magazine

    At some point, everyone faces a life altering decision. The right choice can lead to success, or at the very least, happiness. The wrong decision can have a more dramatic and permanent impact, and take you down a dark path to destruction.

    Sitting on a roadside curb, Phillip is down on his luck. Homeless, dirty and hungry, he is tired of life kicking him when he is down. His luck is about to change. Meanwhile two brothers, maybe not as weary of life, but tired of being broke all the time, take matters into their own hands. A convenience store and a gun in the hands of a nervous person equal a recipe for disaster.

    Rekindling a crumbling marriage, James plans a romantic getaway. When things do not go as planned, he leaves and does what every angry man does behind the wheel of a car: speeds. On an icy road in the mountains, anger and speed are a bad combination. With a snowstorm brewing, James must find shelter. A long fall and broken leg makes finding refuge more important. In the middle of the woods sits a makeshift hut, made of tree branches, leaves and packed mud. And what’s inside just might make him wish he were dead.

    A young man wrestles with the ghost of his past, an abusive father and a mentally unstable brother. As a last resort, he returns home to confront the evil he left behind. What he finds just may be the end of him.

    Climb into the minds of the characters in A.J. Brown’s debut short story collection, Along the Splintered Path. The decision is yours to make.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAJ Brown
    Release dateMar 26, 2014
    ISBN9781310043925
    Along the Splintered Path
    Author

    AJ Brown

    A.J. Brown looks out the window on a constant basis, daydreaming of imaginary people and places and how to bring them to life. He tries not to take bios seriously, though some folks wish he would. He is married and has two children he affectionately refers to as The Girl and The Boy. One of them is the long lost twin to Wednesday Addams while they other one thinks he is a Jedi Knight crossed with R2D2. Thank you for visiting him, here on Smashwords and please visit him at Type AJ Negative for updates and random silliness.

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      Book preview

      Along the Splintered Path - AJ Brown

      PHILLIP’S STORY

      I. Money From Heaven and What is That Red Stuff?

      The money fell from heaven. That much Phillip was sure of. Okay, maybe not, but it was a Godsend. It had to be. With the crap life had handed him, something good was bound to happen eventually. Not that he was the only person in America down on his luck. Lost his job. Lost his home. The wife left him and took the only thing he cared about other than himself: Cameron, the blue-eyed, pony-tail wearing little girl they both had a hand in making. She was three then and that was, what, three years ago? Her age would have doubled by then.

      Phillip’s heart sank a little. Not that it had too much further to go before it sat at the bottom of what should have been a bottomless pit. That’s what those damn things called emotions do to a person.

      He sat on the edge of the road, his ass planted on the sidewalk and his shadow stretching out beside him. A constant companion who seemed to mock him with every move he made. Sometimes Phillip talked to it and in his mind—sharp as he thought it still was—he thought he could hear Mr. Shadow speak back, often with a sarcastic comment that left Phillip shaking his head and telling the shadow to just shut the hell up already.

      The money was there. He could see it peeking out from the split in the bag that fell from over the edge of the bridge. Never mind the noise that came before and after. Was that sirens? Brakes screeching? Could that have been the sound of metal on metal or maybe metal on concrete? There was a distinct crunch, wasn't there?

      Coins lay around it, spilled out on impact with the sidewalk. If Phillip would have been a couple feet over to his right the bag would have struck him in the head, probably killed him. How ironic would that be? Down on his luck Phillip Brown--middle name Ain't! Hahaha and all that jazz--coming into some money only to be killed by it falling from the sky.

      Phillip looked around, saw no one. He craned his neck up to the overpass that sat a little behind and high above him. Is that smoke billowing up toward the clouds? He heard some yelling. A man dangled over the edge of the bridge, his unblinking eyes staring down at him. An uneasy feeling crept up beside him and sat down on his shadow.

      So, ya just gonna sit there?

      Phillip shrugged.

      Come on, Phil, old boy. Go pick the bag up. Get out of here before anyone else sees you.

      You reckon that guy will say something?

      Take a good look at him, Phil. He ain't talking to no one ever again.

      Phillip looked up. No doubt about it. He won't be talking to anyone, unless you count the guy at the Pearly Gates. Or maybe the fellow waiting down below. A shiver traced up Phillip's spine and he looked away. Drips of blood had spattered the sidewalk--not a lot, but enough to set Phillip in motion.

      He stood on legs that had walked hundreds of miles over the last few years from town to town in search of work or food or both--anything to get back on his feet. He didn't understand those that only sought handouts and freebies. To tell the truth, Phillip had too much pride at one time to even consider getting a meal at the soup kitchen down in Columbia or staying at one of the shelters on cold nights, free of charge, though he had to listen to various sermons on doing right and getting his life back on track and that starts with redemption. It always starts with redemption. What did he need redeeming from? He had been an honest worker, a loyal husband, a good father. She… she on the other hand, the woman he loved even now after being hung out to dry and left alone, she had not been so faithful. Maybe it was Debs that needed redemption. He once told that to one of the preacher men before leaving the shelter that night, tired of hearing how all of them were sinners and that without redemption they would go to Hell.

      Hell? he said. I've been there since my wife picked out a bigger dick and took my little girl with her. Then he was off into the night--a blustery, cold one at that. It had snowed and he nearly froze as he slept, or tried to, beneath a bridge that expanded over the river. At least the wind and snow didn't touch him in the high crease where concrete met dirt and provided a little shelter from the weather.

      Up above someone yelled again. The smoke was thicker, but Phillip didn't notice. His eyes held firm to the bag of money, to the few bills he could see--at least three twenties--and the dripping blood that fell from the man hanging over the edge of the overpass. It was steady now, that drip, a constant shtick sound as each drop landed on the sidewalk. Phillip gave one more glance up. Yes, there were sirens up there.

      His legs shook as he took the lone step he needed to take. He squatted and reached for the money…

      II. The Brothers Williams Make A Big Mistake

      Thad and Hollis Williams, brothers from the wrong side of tracks, whatever and wherever that is, walked into Burt's Quickie Shop carrying guns. They slipped bandanas over their faces, snugging them tight across the bridge of their noses and knotted in the back. Protecting their identity was an important step that most convenience store robbers forget to do. Not Thad and Hollis. They bought several bandanas at the S-Mart just a few blocks away using the five-finger discount method of purchasing.

      That was an hour ago.

      They pulled up to Burt's Quickie Shop. Thad backed in and left the car running. They tied the bandanas around their necks and made their way for the door. For them, scouting out the place meant making sure there were no other customers. Only Burt's beat-up truck sat in the parking lot and it was beside the store, not in front.

      With that, they opened the door. The bell above the door jingled like it was supposed to, alerting Burt to new customers. Aisles of candy and chips and oils and other whatevers that all convenience stores seemed to carry lined out in front of them. Drink coolers sat along the back wall, keeping those beverages nice and cold. Splitting two of the refrigerators was a hall with three doors, two to the right, one to the left. Placards jutted out like street signs telling customers the first door on the right was for MEN, the second for WOMEN and the one on the left was for EMPLOYEES ONLY.

      No need to bother with pretending to shop. They went straight to the counter where Burt swept the area behind it. There was a small television on a pedestal that dropped down from the ceiling. Screening it was a news anchor, her lips moving silently as she spoke in muted tones. Running in a ticker tape line beneath the woman was the daily news--all that's fit to tell.

      Give us your money, Thad said, trying to sound intimidating, even with his voice shaking.

      Burt's brows lifted and he stopped sweeping. Get out my store, you punks.

      Give us your money, old man or--

      Shut up, Thad said to Hollis and swatted at him.

      He's giving us lip, Thad.

      Thad, older by three years and the more intelligent of the two, shook his head, swatted his brother again. I said shut up and don't use my damn name, dumbass.

      I'm not a dumbass, Hollis said.

      In truth, he was. Hollis Williams, the third of five kids, all boys. He could never lay claim to being all that smart. A sixth grade

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