Category: FICTION

  • Democratic Campaign Hires Necromancer to Reach Dead Voters; Dead Demand Different Candidates

    Democratic Campaign Hires Necromancer to Reach Dead Voters; Dead Demand Different Candidates

    Fictional paranormal news from Howlietzer Publishing

    BRIAR COUNTY—A local Democratic campaign suspended its experimental voter outreach program Tuesday after a contracted necromancer contacted 400 deceased residents, many of whom demanded different candidates.

    “We were told this was a reliable demographic,” said campaign director Bethany Price. “That assessment was made before we spoke to them.”

    The initiative, nicknamed “Beyond the Veil,” began after a campaign consultant encountered allegations online about Democrats casting ballots in the names of deceased citizens.

    Rather than dispute the premise, the consultant submitted a proposal.

    Outreach Exceeds Expectations

    The campaign hired Silas Wicker, a regional necromancer whose previous work included ancestral consultations, disputed inheritances, and locating a grandfather buried with the only key to a riding mower.

    Wicker maintains that the campaign purchased his basic communication package.

    “I said, ‘Of course I can raise their voices,’” Wicker told reporters. “It costs extra to raise their hands to sign anything.”

    The first session took place Monday evening in the basement of campaign headquarters, where volunteers arranged folding chairs around a chalk circle and unplugged the coffee urn to accommodate a ceremonial brazier.

    Contact was established at 8:43 p.m.

    The campaign’s opening question—“Can we count on your support this November?”—produced eleven simultaneous objections and a request to turn down the brazier.

    Party Loyalty Proves Complicated

    Campaign records indicated that many of those summoned had been registered Democrats during their lifetimes. Staff soon discovered that the dates of those lifetimes mattered.

    Earl Puckett, who died in 1898, demanded to know why a woman was running the meeting. Price assigned a volunteer to explain the intervening constitutional amendments.

    More recently deceased voters proved no easier to persuade.

    “I voted Democrat for sixty years,” said Julie Potter, who died in 2000. “That doesn’t mean I signed up for everything you thought of afterward.” She requested the candidate’s position on abortion and rejected an offer to discuss his infrastructure plan first.

    Adam Pearl, who died in 1995, became embroiled in an argument about gender identity. When a volunteer suggested taking the discussion in the parking lot, he demanded to know why they needed to go outside.

    Price attempted to restore focus. “Trump is a fascist dictator who is trying to take away our democracy!” she told the assembled spirits.

    “You said this was a listening session,” Potter replied. “We’ve been here forty minutes, and all you’ve told us is who you hate.”

    Volunteers offered free T-shirts and “I Voted” stickers. The spirits asked what they had supposedly voted on.

    Gerald Voss Enters the Dispute

    Local attorney and part-time medium Gerald Voss arrived Tuesday morning after receiving what he described as “an actionable volume of knocking” inside his filing cabinet.

    Voss now represents 83 deceased residents in a proposed class action against the campaign, seeking an end to unwanted summonses and fundraising requests.

    One plaintiff, who died in 1986, reportedly received a message stating that his failure to contribute five dollars before midnight would place the future of the county in jeopardy.

    “He found that upsetting,” Voss said. “He was under the impression he had finished being responsible for this.”

    The complaint also alleges that several spirits, after reuniting with their families, discovered recurring campaign donations still being charged to accounts their relatives had spent years trying to close.

    Price said cancellation required only a few straightforward steps on the donor dashboard. “One of my clients thinks a dashboard is something you attach to a horse,” Voss replied. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

    Republican Observer Requests Access

    The Briar County Republican Committee dispatched election observer Dennis Rusk after learning about the program.

    Rusk demanded immediate access to the basement, citing concerns about transparency and the possibility of organized electoral misconduct.

    His inspection was interrupted when a voice from the chalk circle addressed him by his full name.

    According to witnesses, Rusk stood motionless for several seconds before saying, “Mama?”

    The ensuing exchange concerned an unvisited grave, a casserole dish that had never been returned to Rusk’s sister, and his decision to sell his father’s tools.

    Rusk later described the session as “a deeply inappropriate partisan ambush.”

    His mother subsequently retained Voss.

    Election Office Issues Clarification

    County election administrator Paula Hensley confirmed that the deceased remain ineligible to vote.

    “Manifesting in a campaign basement does not change that,” she said.

    Hensley also rejected Wicker’s request to classify corporeal resurrection as a change of address.

    “We have a form for moving,” she said. “We do not have one for whatever Mr. Wicker is proposing.”

    No ballots were issued during the outreach session. Nevertheless, the election office received 37 calls Tuesday asking whether a glowing ancestor qualified as acceptable identification.

    Hensley has requested that campaigns stop giving out her personal number.

    Negotiations Continue

    The summoned residents have since formed the Briar County Association for Eternal Rest and Cemetery Access.

    Their demands include repairs to the cemetery road, an end to fundraising messages, and removal of a motion-activated Halloween skeleton installed beside the maintenance shed.

    Association spokesperson Ruth Bell called the decoration “a workplace caricature.”

    Wicker has offered to conclude the summoning at no additional charge, but several participants refuse to leave until their concerns are entered into the county commission’s official minutes. He has begun charging the campaign for overnight containment.

    For now, the campaign basement remains occupied.

    Volunteers have moved phone banking upstairs. The coffee urn is still disconnected. Something inside the supply closet has been asking about the school budget since Tuesday.

    Voss says a settlement is possible, provided campaign leadership approaches his clients with realistic expectations. “For years, people have claimed the dead vote,” he said. “Now that someone’s asked them, they’d prefer you stop speaking on their behalf.”

  • The Rules: An Appalachian Trail Horror Story-Post 1

    The Rules:

    An Appalachian Trail Horror Story

    By Howlietzer

    Part 1: Scene 1

    Zoom in on a VHS player in an office as a tape is pressed inside. Then zoom out on the TV screen.

    The footage begins in darkness.

    A loud thud. Static.

    “Aw hell… it’s recording already?” said a young man. The camera starts to pick up objects as the lens is taken off.

    The camera jerks upward violently and around, blurry, as the camera man begins to focus the camera. A dorm hallway, aged from decades of use, and yelling coeds dodging the camera. Some waving and smiling.

    The cameraman laughs and greets everyone as he heads down the hallway.

    “Okay. Cool. Great start.” He says, adjusting the camera’s focus.

    The date stamp flashes in the lower corner:

    APRIL 28, 2007

    The camera steadies.

    Antwone Greene grins into the reflection of a dormitory mirror while adjusting the strap around his wrist. He’s tall, skinny, wearing a wrinkled hoodie that says ETSU on the front. His eyes are bloodshot in a way that suggests either exhaustion or weed.

    Probably both.

    Behind him, a cramped women’s dorm room looks like a tornado made entirely of clothing and textbooks tore through it.

    “Documentary Day One,” Antwone whispers dramatically into the microphone. “A historic moment. Six brave scholars enter the Appalachian wilderness…”

    He lowers his voice.

    “…and probably get murdered by hillbillies.”

    A pillow flies across the room and smacks him directly in the face.

    “Shut up, Antwone!” Libby shouts.

    The camera swings toward her.

    Liberty “Libby” Monroe is kneeling on the floor beside an overstuffed duffel bag. Even dressed casually, she looks like she belongs on a magazine cover. Tiny black shorts. White crop top. Blonde hair tied up messily with colored pencils shoved through the bun like chopsticks.

    She notices the camera and instantly poses.

    “Wait, hold on.”

    She arches her back dramatically.

    “There. Better lighting.”

    Antwone snorts.

    “You are physically incapable of acting normal for more than six seconds.”

    “That is because,” Libby says, “normal people are boring.”

    The camera pans toward Judy.

    Judy Mercer sits cross-legged on her bed surrounded by notebooks and photocopied articles. Unlike Libby, she’s dressed practically: jeans, oversized sweater, thick glasses sliding down her nose. Brown hair pulled into a ponytail.

    The contrast between the girls is almost comical.

    Judy looks up and smiles warmly.

    “Are you recording already?”

    “Absolutely,” Antwone says. “Future generations deserve this.”

    “Future generations deserve better,” Libby says off camera.

    He zooms aggressively onto Judy’s smiling face.

    “Tell the audience what we’re doing.”

    Judy laughs and covers her face shyly, before she gets control of herself.

    “We’re hiking part of the Appalachian Trail before graduation.”

    “Why?”

    “Because we’ll probably never all be together again after this.”

    For a second the room quiets.

    It’s the first genuinely honest thing said since the recording started.

    Even Libby stops posing.

    Judy continues softly.

    “We’ve been meeting every Thursday for almost three years. I just thought…” She shrugs. “One last adventure.”

    Antwone lowers the camera slightly. There’s affection in the silence.Then Antwone ruins it immediately.

    “Also, we’re hunting cryptids.”

    Libby gasps theatrically as he turns the camera towards her.

    “The elusive Appalachian Crackhead!” Libby swoons.

    “An extremely dangerous species,” Antwone says solemnly. “Known to attack gas stations at midnight.”

    Judy laughs hard enough to snort. Antwone pans back over to her.

    “Oh my God,” said Libby, laughing hysterically.

    Antwone zooms in instantly.

    “There it is. Got it on tape. Judy snorts.”

    “Delete that!” She throws a pillow at him.

    “Never!” Antwone dodges effortlessly.

    Libby stretches across her bed dramatically.

    “I personally hope we meet a sexy forest demon.”

    “You would try to sleep with it,” Judy said, rolling her eyes.

    “I absolutely would!”

    Antwone mumbles toward the microphone.

    “Nobody left here to sleep with…”

    “What?” Libby asks.

    “I said, ‘Me Too!” Antwone smirked.

    She stands suddenly and strikes another pose.

    “Film this side,” she winks, “It’s my intellectual side.”

    “You don’t have an intellectual side,” Judy rolled her eyes.

    Libby points toward a stack of philosophy books.

    “I minored in philosophy.”

    “You minored in annoying people.”

    Antwone drifts toward Judy’s desk, filming scattered papers.

    Handwritten lists.

    Maps.

    Articles titled:

    MISSING HIKERS OF THE APPALACHIANS

    STRANGE FOLKLORE OF EAST TENNESSEE

    RULES OF THE TRAIL

    “You’re bringing all this?” he asked.

    Judy brightens instantly.

    “I want to interview people.”

    “Hikers?” Antwone interjects.

    “Yeah. Locals too, if we can.”

    She grows animated the way she always does when discussing folklore.

    “My grandmother used to tell me stories constantly growing up. Stuff people around here genuinely believe.”

    “Like what?” said Antwone, pointing his camera towards her.

    Judy hesitates.

    “The woods aren’t empty. I mean, we’ve talked about this in the club,” Judy continues, “Ned likes to recite them. The rules.”

    Libby rolls her eyes, “Oh boy.”

    “No seriously,” Judy says. “People out there believe these things.”

    “Rules?” said Antwone.

    “Remember,” said Judy, “Like, don’t whistle in the woods.”

    Antwone immediately started to whistle.

    Judy smiled, pointing. “Don’t do that!f”

    “What happens?” said Antwone.

    “My grandma used to say if something hears you whistle, it might whistle back and try to find you.”

    Libby grins. “That’s hot.”

    Antwone zooms into Judy again.

    “Do you actually believe that stuff?”

    Judy thinks for a moment, “No. But I think stories exist for a reason. And that’s why I want to go so badly. I want to write a book about our experience out there and… see what happens.”

    “You want something weird to happen?” Antwone smiled.

    “Kind of,” Judy said blushing.

    “Only if he’s hot,” said Libby trying to lighten the mood.

    Antwone turned the camera back on himself. “There you have it folks: ‘Only if he’s hot. This is Antwone Greene, signing off.”

    Another pillow flies at his head, as the screen goes to black.

  • Genesis Chapter 4

    Lira made it back to the Astronomy Tower before Hydracollis could do any damage. Scientists weren’t exactly cross trained in every discipline. After primary school and the sorting test, they would all take a core curriculum before they were again sorted into different masteries.

    Once Lira entered the room, she stopped him from toggling her equipment and immediately sent several of her drones to the star to collect any data they could.

    “Please! I’m begging you to send ten more. You can spare ten more! They don’t all need to look for a planet!” Hydracollis pleaded.

    “A new planet is the top priority, Hydracollis,” Quarxley twiddled with her handheld communicator. “Though the more we can learn about creating our own stars may lend us the ability to create planets without all the hassle of searching. We would just need to manufacture the correct atmosphere . . .”

    “Yes,” said Hydracollis, his tail wagging. “We could just manufacture planets and soon we’ll be able to manufacture the prime elements!”

    “Not that pipe dream again,” said Quarxley. “Elements form, and that is based on factors we can’t comprehend.”

    “But think about it! If we can create a star and if we can create a planet, we can reverse engineer the process and figure out exactly why they form and how to form them.”

    “Well then perhaps Lira should send all the drones to the planet and collect data there,” said Quarxley.

    “You’re a bit insufferable today, aren’t you Quarxley?”

    “Did somebody mention a planet?” An old, dull-yellow Drakonian walked through the door, aided by a metal cane. He wore a white robe which signified his status as the Scientist Supreme: Fauchila.

    Lira, Quarxley, and Hydrcollis knelt and bowed their heads as he entered, and as they did so, Lira’s machines began to chirp loudly three times every two seconds.

    “As you were,” said the Scientist Supreme, his voice raspy, “Please, Scientist, your instruments, what do they tell you?”

    Lira dashed to her computer and scanned her screens, each showing data for the atmosphere, soil, plant life, and wild life. “The drones are detecting favorable conditions for our habitation, Scientist Supreme.” She smiled.

    “Thank Science it finally happened!” the Scientist Supreme said. He took a seat and stared at the work station monitors, surveying the findings just as Lira had, checking her work. She didn’t mind. She knew she was right. This was it. Drakon 5 had been discovered.

    “Ahem . . .”

    It was Geb. The others had bowed so quickly that Lira had not noticed he had been walking with the Scientist Supreme, undoubtedly trying to get her in trouble for earlier.

    Fauchila looked up at him. “Geb, this is great news. Don’t tell me you still feel sour from earlier.”

    “Sir, I simply wanted to implore that we go to the King immediately and begin the expedition process.”

    Fauchila stood up. “Yes! Of course! This is very important! We need to arrange a meeting at once! Scientist!”

    Everyone turned, but he was addressing Lira. “Collect all that data onto a file and bring it to the meeting. Prepare a presentation. I’ll give you more information in the morning. Come on Scientist Geb. We’re going to see General Tarask.”

    Fauchila moved quickly out of the door. Geb turned to follow, but before he reached the doorway, he turned his head towards Lira,

    “Well done,” Geb sneered. Lira flicked her tongue at him, winking as he left.

  • Mark Fischburne

    Mark Fischburne

    Mark, jolly rogers, Appalachian pirates
    Mark, jolly rogers, Appalachian pirates

    Bio: Mark deserted his post at * military base. One night he just got up and walked away. He doesn’t know how long he was walking, he believes he was in a trance. All he remembers is waking up in front of Jolly Rogers and meeting The Captain sitting outside whitling.

    Mark joined the crew and became a versatile Raider. Whether driving a regular vehicle to the Aos Si upgraded vehicles, creating deployment strategies and leading raids once The Captain left.

    • Age: 32
    • Height: 5’10”
    • Weight: 180lbs
    • Class: Acting Captain
    • Personality: Positive, can do attitude
    • Skills: Resourceful; intuitive; leadership
    • Fears: ?
    • Pet Peeve: Repeating himself
    • Favorite food: bibimbap
  • Wade Bassett

    Wade Bassett

    Wade, jolly rogers, Appalachian pirates
    Wade, jolly rogers, Appalachian pirates

    Bio: Wade Bassett woke up one day to find his autoshop had disappeared and reappeared next to a convenience store called Jolly Rogers. After a moment of disorientation, Wade gained the courage to explore and met The Captain inside the store.

    As he adjusted to life, along with Bob and Mark, he became the head mechanic and while working with the Aos Si, developed new vehicles to help in their piracy.

    • Age: 32
    • Height: 6’4″
    • Weight: 220lbs
    • Class: Jolly Rogers Auto Maintenance Supervisor
    • Personality: Disciplined; a bit of a perfectionist
    • Skills: Resilience, auto maintenance, auto upgrades
    • Fears: Being spirited away… again
    • Pet Peeve: Raiders taking shortcuts during vehicle maintenance
    • Favorite food: Fried chicken tenders