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    A Dragon, Some Whiskey, and People
    A Dragon, Some Whiskey, and People
    A Dragon, Some Whiskey, and People
    Ebook114 pages1 hour

    A Dragon, Some Whiskey, and People

    By Shawn Jolley

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    About this ebook

    Eleven stories. One speculative collection. Where will each story take you?

     

    A Dragon, Some Whiskey, and People is a contemporary collection of speculative short stories, encompassing a variety of literary genres, including fantasy, horror, western, and suspense.

     

    These short stories are engaging and exciting on a microscopic scale, letting the reader discover and enjoy a snapshot of a setting and characters before moving on to the next adventure.

     

    If you're looking for something different from other short story collections, then A Dragon, Some Whiskey, and People is definitely for you.

     

    You can read all eleven stories in one lengthy sitting or read them one at a time. Who knows where each one will take you?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherShawn Jolley
    Release dateJan 16, 2017
    ISBN9798223291015
    A Dragon, Some Whiskey, and People
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    Author

    Shawn Jolley

    Shawn Jolley was born and raised in northern Utah near the Wasatch Mountain Range, a place now called Silicon Slopes by tech enthusiasts and hipsters. He grew up in a small suburban home in a small suburban neighborhood situated between two large farms and a miniature ranch. His first job was working as a farmhand for an excessively rich horse breeder. Once housing developments cannibalized the surrounding farmland, he got a job at a small movie theater on Main Street that had seen one-too-many rat problems. From there, he obtained a job at Utah Valley University, worked his way through a creative writing degree, and graduated into an economy recovering from a global recession. He wrote his first book, Fracture After Dark, a suspenseful young adult thriller that met with favorable reviews. A genre-crossing short story collection followed that, titled, A Dragon, Some Whiskey, and People, as well as a series of private-investigator novellas, The Morris Mysteries. Jolley continues to write and publish fiction from his northern Utah residence. You can stay up-to-date with his future releases by visiting shawnjolley.com.

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      Book preview

      A Dragon, Some Whiskey, and People - Shawn Jolley

      A Dragon, Some Whiskey, and People

      A Collection of Short Stories

      Shawn Jolley

      Copyright © 2017 Shawn Jolley.

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, contact the publisher, subject Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the website below.

      ISBN: 9798652937768 (Paperback)

      ISBN: 9798731318631 (Hardcover)

      Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author's imagination.

      Independently published.

      First printing 2017.

      www.shawnjolley.com

      Author Newsletter

      Never miss a new release. Sign up at www.shawnjolley.com.

      Contents

      Introduction

      1.Old Oaks

      2.Dining with the Dead

      3.A Horse Broke Free

      4.Light Under the Dark Cliff

      5.Duffel Bags and Dragons

      6.The Whiskey Crate

      7.Mr. Watts' Money

      8.This Past Hour

      9.Father

      10.Waiting for a Train

      11.Between Chips and Chocolate

      12.Bonus: Missing: The Morris Mysteries #1

      Author Newsletter

      Books by Author

      About the Author

      Introduction

      When I was growing up, before I learned how to write, I learned how to read. I fell in love with stories early on. Some of the books that I enjoyed reading were short story collections.

      For the most part, the genres I read were horror and mystery. Partially, because of the limited selection of books in my school library and partially because of my own love of monsters, whodunits, and the supernatural.

      On occasion, I would grab a fantasy or general fiction compilation.

      I remember reading a short story in grade school about an overweight loner of a man who had a large and vicious mouth in place of his stomach. That bit wasn't particularly scary. The scary part was how he used his extra mouth to eat neighborhood children, and it was always in extremely descriptive detail.

      When I finished the story—and it didn't have a happy ending—I felt sick. Unfortunately, that wasn't all. The story gave me nightmares for a week. I'm still not sure if the librarian knew about the graphic nature of the book when she gave it to me.

      Either way, I learned that the magic of good fiction is that it sticks with you for years. Notice that fifteen years later I have forgotten the title of the short story but not how it made me feel. In fact, I wouldn't be one bit surprised if I had a dream tonight that involved the loner man with his stomach mouth.

      Now that I've grown up, I've started to write my own short stories, and I still love to read them. In fact, at the time of writing this, I'm working my way through two short story collections. One of them is comprised of mostly mysteries while the other is made up of suspenseful (and somewhat horrific) thrillers.

      A Dragon, Some Whiskey, and People is my first short story collection. The eleven stories that appear in this book originally debuted on my blog. I placed them in this collection for the benefit of my readers.

      My hope is that by creating this book, in both physical and digital formats, my stories will be able to reach anyone who wants to read them. May you enjoy them as much as I do.

      1

      Old Oaks

      What the house really needed was a wrecking ball and a few dozen sticks of dynamite. The location, in a remote corner of the Colorado Rockies, might have been great for a bed-and-breakfast, but it was useless because the road leading up to it was more like a hiking trail than anything else.

      There was a town five miles to the south, but the small community, consisting mostly of abandoned mobile homes, wasn't a place people visited by choice.

      The truth was, the house, although Victorian in style and large enough to accommodate the biggest of families, had been doomed since the first nail had been hammered into the first board. The original builder, one Arthur B. Kingkiller according to the faded plaque next to the front door, obviously hadn’t cared about resale value, much to the disappointment of many modern investors. He wanted the house to be built in the middle of nowhere, and so it was.

      The outside of the house was supposed to be white, but the paint had chipped in large and small chunks, revealing dark and rough rotting wood. Rain gutters gilded in rust clung to the edges in an attempt to remain part of the structure. Shingles littered the flower beds where plants should have been growing.

      Having been unoccupied for forty-two years, the neglect and misery manifested themselves in every man-made piece of the scene. Even the surrounding trees looked unnatural in juxtaposition to the broken home. The rumor was that somebody, or something, more than likely dead, still roamed the hallways, stood in the rooms, and watched the road from the shattered windows.

      Nobody knew if the rumors were true, only that they had started with the mysterious disappearance of the previous homeowners. The county police department still had the original report that was filed on the night Mr. and Mrs. Kingkiller left town, but the facts were vague.

      At the time, the Kingkillers had been in the process of moving west for more employment opportunities (the local mine having shut down), but they had left earlier than they had said they would. This, coupled with the fact that there had been traces of blood near the house’s front entrance, along with some teeth, made the whole county uneasy.

      Despite the evidence, there had been no weapon, and there had never been a hint of motive. Without any further evidence, including bodies, anything pointing to foul play was deemed null by the police department.

      In fact, the people from the area say there was never a proper investigation, but that everything had been swept under the rug.

      As the years passed, urban legends took the place of truth. Lights were seen in the windows, music was heard down the road. Hunters claimed there wasn’t a deer, bear, or wild goat within fifteen miles of the place.

      The house hadn’t changed much over the preceding decades, aside from the natural wear and tear of abandonment. The same oak trees surrounded the backside of the house; their leaves changing color the same way they did every autumn.

      Early in the year, during the spring and summer months, the constant warbling of blackbirds, swallows, owls, and brown creepers who nested in the woods filled the air.

      On this day, there were no songs, but two blue jays flew overhead, apparently ready to find warmer weather elsewhere. The two birds went unnoticed by two teenagers, a boy and a girl, walking hand in hand on the lone mountain road that led to the house.

      Shay stopped walking when she saw the house, a dizzying sort of feeling having spread through her head. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and zipped her jacket up with her free hand. Her boyfriend, Aaron, stopped beside her and glanced over.

      Are you all right? he asked.

      Yeah, I'm fine. You?

      Aaron hesitated for a moment. Couldn’t be better. He squeezed Shay’s hand. Are you ready for your surprise?

      Of course I'm ready. I’ve been thinking about it all week. She smiled unconvincingly and scrunched up her nose. Aaron shook his head.

      I thought your stomach was feeling better, he said. Why don’t you sit down for a minute? He helped Shay to the ground. Do you think it’s the burrito fiesta casserole? he asked while smiling.

      Shay laughed. Probably. School lunch sucks. She leaned against Aaron as he rubbed her back.

      A man dressed almost entirely in spandex jogged past the two of them with a courtesy smile and nod. A dog followed closely behind the man with its tongue hanging to the side of its mouth. Shay thought she recognized the jogger but couldn’t remember where she had seen him.

      Who was that? she asked.

      Who? asked Aaron, looking around.

      Who do you think? The man who just passed us with his dog.

      Aaron raised his eyebrows and waited for a punchline, but when it didn’t come, he changed the subject. We can do this another time, he said.

      Shay dropped the subject of the man and his

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