by Jason Lloyd
“What did we do, Danny? What did we do?” Ethan whimpered. His voice was small like a child. I felt the overwhelming need to comfort him.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said. Ethan firmly grabbed my wrist and yanked it off his shoulder. He tugged on my arm, bringing me closer. He dug his fingers into my flesh. “Ethan, you’re hurting me!”
“He’s back! And you’re next!” Ethan said.
The sound of my iPhone woke me. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and stretched my arms up, letting out an exasperated yawn. This Darling needed eight hours of beauty rest at least!
The bedroom in the pool house was dark, except for a beam of moonlight that shone in from the window. The light illuminated part of the floor on my side of the bed. I sat upright and adjusted my black Armani boxer-briefs. My iPhone lit up and made another sound, indicating I had a missed message. I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed it. I had four missed texts. I opened my text-messaging app:
Unknown: Roses are red
Unknown: Violets are blue
Unknown: I’ll use a lovely black knife
Unknown: to cut into you!
What the fuck? I thought. Maybe Ethan was right. Either someone knew or someone was just fucking with us. I stared at the screen for a minute and then tried to respond to the messages, but I kept receiving an invalid response message. My phone wouldn’t let me respond. I was scared, and it was time for me to talk about it. I decided to wake Damien up and tell him the truth.
“Damien, get up,” I said. I flipped on the lamp sitting on the nightstand. Damien wasn’t there. An imprint left behind by his body was all that remained. Where is he? I wondered.
I walked over to a chair my clothes were resting on, grabbed my shirt, and put it on, leaving it unbuttoned. I walked past the floor screen that separated the living room and bedroom and flipped the light on. I walked past the bookcase and then finally into the kitchen and turned that light on.
“Damien, are you here?” I said. He wasn’t anywhere. I hit the home button on my iPhone and the lock screen read “4:38.” I thought that maybe he had gotten a jump-start on some gardening. He had a few more rose bushes to plant today.
The door to the pool house was open. I walked out onto the terrace. All the outside lights were off—even the motion detector lights. I flipped the switch by the door and nothing happened.
“Damien, are you out here?” I yelled.
The light of the moon reflected off the pool’s glistening sleek surface. Stars were still out, but soon they would fade with the inception of the morning sunrise. You could already see a hint of pink in the sky. A man was standing on the other side of the pool, facing the gazebo. I could only see his back, but he looked about Damien’s size.
“Damien?” I called out.
He walked towards the gazebo and then disappeared behind it.
I turned my flashlight app from my phone on and followed him. My bare feet felt the concrete and then the grass. I walked behind the gazebo and stopped. He was sitting on a bench that faced the rose garden. I shined the light from my phone over in his direction and caught the back of his jacket—a letterman’s jacket. It was black with orange letters and numbers. The jacket read: Thorne 18. It was Ethan’s letterman jacket from wrestling.
I walked a little closer and stood behind him about ten feet. He was wearing a black baseball cap. He must have known I was standing there, but he remained motionless.
“Ethan,” I said.
“Yeah,” he answered. His voice was muffled, and he sobbed as he answered me.
“What are you still doing here?”
Ethan started to cry. He must be upset about what happened earlier, I thought.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said. I walked a little closer, and my phone made a noise indicating I had a text message.
“You better get that,” he said in a teary stifled whisper.
“Um, okay,” I answered.
I opened my text-messaging app:
Unknown: Tell me more lies so that I can sharpen my knife.
He was standing right in front of me. My hands trembled, and I slowly lifted my head up from my phone. I saw his black shoes, then his blue jeans, then his jacket and as I made my way up to his face, I gasped, “Oh my god!”
I saw it come at me. I felt the shovel strike me in the head. The sound of steel echoed and then there was nothing, a blackness. The last thing I saw was a blurry grin, and the last thing I heard was his creepy song.
Good people go to heaven, bad people go to hell, but where do the mediocre people go? I’ve done some good in my life, but I have also done some bad. I think both as of right now have canceled each other out, and now I’m in mediocre land. I wondered if there was a middle ground somewhere between heaven and hell. I imagined this would be the place I would go. I just hope I’m not alone.
The dreaded sound of it. I will never get it out of my head—that wicked dreaded sound. I will hear it for eternity. The noise that woke me from my unconscious state. It was worse than fingernails on a chalkboard. It sounded like a cross between vomiting and gurgling.
The first thing I felt was pain. My head throbbed where the shovel had bounced off it. My head felt as if it were three sizes too big for my body. Like your worst hangover. The second thing I felt was the earth. My fingers sluggishly traced the cold dirt and grass.
I smelt freshly mowed grass and the morning approaching. My vision was blurry when I finally opened my eyes. I lifted my hand to the bump on my head and winced. The excruciating pain tripled as my fingers outlined the bump.
“Ow!”
My memory was blank. I had no idea why I was on the ground, in pain and how I had gotten here. I let out a groan and moved slightly, but the dizziness forced me to stop. I placed the palm of my hand on the earth and used it to ground me.
The sound, the horrible sound drew my attention next to me, only a few feet away. I tilted my head in the direction of the noise. Distorted shapes moved up and down followed by a choking gurgling noise. I moaned out. I squinted my eyes to focus on the nebulous forms. Finally, my vision focused.
Ethan was lying flat on his back with his arms stretched out on either side. A man was straddling his waist wearing his Princeton Letterman’s jacket and plunging a butcher knife repeatedly into Ethan’s chest. Ethan’s head was tilted in my direction—our eyes met each other. He wiggled his fingers at me, and I stretched my hand out to try to grab him, but he was too far away. He opened his mouth and gurgled. Blood was gushing from his mouth and falling onto the ground.
I tried to move. I wanted to save him. I was paralyzed by fear, by the lightheadedness I felt. A torrent of tears stained my cheeks as I watched every ounce of light dim in his once lively blue eyes. His fingers stopped wiggling; the gurgling subsided, and his stare became glazed over. Ethan was gone.
The attacker continued to plunge the knife into Ethan’s deceased body, causing his body to jerk with every blow. My heart raced, my pain diminished, and I forced myself to get up. I quickly looked around and saw my iPhone on the ground. I picked my phone up, and I ran. I ran for my life.
I didn’t know where I was. It looked like the middle of nowhere. I could see a wooded area on the other end of a field of wildflowers. I ran through the wildflowers and ducked down to hide when I heard rustling through the field. The morning was approaching fast, and the sky was getting brighter. I was losing my cover. My iPhone was powered off. I turned it back on.
“Come on, come on,” I whispered.
I heard rustling again through the weeds and wildflowers. I sat up a little but saw nothing. Finally, my phone was on. I typed in “911” and the tone of each number felt as if it echoed in the twilight sky.
“Shit,” I murmured as tears flowed down my cheeks.
My hands were shaking. When I hit send, it tried to dial, but I had no service.
“No, come on, please, please work.”
Someone was coming. I stood up to run again, but I felt the shovel hit
the back of my head and I fell into the wildflowers. My phone landed next to me, and my favorites’ screen popped up. I hit Josh’s name on my favorites and heard the phone starting to dial. My attacker reached down and hit the end button before Josh’s voicemail even picked up. The last thing I heard was my attacker’s familiar voice saying, “My condolences, Daniel.”
Then I passed out.
filthy fibber
august 17, 2014
5:44am
DARKNESS. I COULDN’T SEE ANYTHING. Is this what death feels like? Am I blind? These were the thoughts I had, but with every throbbing ache of my head, I knew I was still alive. I felt around in the darkness. I believed I was contained in some type of wooden box. I felt the wooden boards under my fingertips. It felt and smelt like plywood.
My prison was stifling. I was never claustrophobic before, but I did not have any room to move. The top of the box hovered above my face only about ten inches.
“Hello? Help! Someone help! Is anyone there?” I called out multiple times. No one answered. It was getting hard to breathe. I pushed on the sides and the top of the box.
“Get me the fuck out of here!” I shrieked. I kicked with my feet, but nothing was helping. I couldn’t break free.
I felt something as I flailed. It felt like my phone. I picked it up, and I hit the home button. The brightness of the screen made me grimace. My wallpaper on my phone had been changed to a white background with word “LIAR” in red.
“What the fuck?” I mumbled.
I slid my finger to unlock the phone. “Great, no service,” I said aloud.
I used my phone as a flashlight and shined the light around the box. I caught something written in black marker on the ceiling of it. The words lingered just above my head.
“What was that?” I murmured.
I held the light back so I could read it:
Go ahead, scream!
I knew what this was. This was not just a box I was trapped in; it was my coffin and my friend put me here.
You’ve just read:
The Garden of Fibs and Sin (Filthy Fibbers, Prequel)
A part of the Filthy Fibbers Series.
Afterword
“New Hope, Pennsylvania, where the women are strong, and the men are pretty.” I remember seeing that slogan or something similar to that saying on a t-shirt when I was younger. It had always stuck with me. It's a funny slogan because it’s true. For as long as I can remember, I had frequently visited this quaint town. I grew up in a small village called, Upper Black Eddy about 45 miles north of Philadelphia. At that time, I lived about 30 minutes from New Hope, Pennsylvania. My mom and I would go shopping in the New Hope area and go boating on the Delaware River during the summer.
Later on, after I had moved to the Lehigh Valley, I still tried to partake in New Hope's charm. The area is rich with antiques, art galleries, musical productions at the Bucks County Playhouse, specialty retail shops, and amazing restaurants and bars. Not to mention it is an extremely gay friendly area. No hate here. You can walk around holding your Honey Boo Boo’s hand without those awkward stares.
Many of my first time gay experiences had happened in New Hope. I wrote about them in my book, Queer Dirty Laundry. From my first date to my hilarious first time, New Hope has always felt like a second home to me.
In my early to mid-twenties, I worked (briefly) and partied at The Cartwheel. Sadly, the club was destroyed in a fire in 2005. The Cartwheel was a unique club containing different bars, each having their own atmosphere. There was a big dance floor with fabulous music and lights, a video bar (the first I had seen at the time), an outdoor bar on a deck, an underground martini lounge, upper level piano bar, and a restaurant that usually opened after the bar part was closed so you could sober up before heading home. I have visited a lot of gay bars through the years and nothing has ever compared to The Cartwheel. Sparkle Nightclub in this Filthy Fibbers Series is actually based on The Cartwheel. I thought it would be a good place for characters to meet and for some of the drama to unfold. In my way, I'm bringing The Cartwheel back to life. Today there's only one gay bar left in New Hope called The Raven. It's a popular hangout for Tea dances and partying by the pool. It's a great spot in the hot summer months.
Over the years, I have introduced many friends to New Hope and they have been mesmerized by the town's charm. So, why did I pick a cute, artsy, quaint town as the backdrop for my slasher mystery?... why not?
Quiet towns always have a little mystery about them. I think New Hope is the perfect place to shake things up. My characters are about to experience life changing events and some of them will not make it out alive. Danny tried to bury his secrets, but secrets always find a way back to the surface. His little fibs have turned into deadly lies. Aren’t you dying to know what happens next?
Filthy Fibbers
Book One
Daniel’s little fibs have turned into deadly lies…
Three weeks ago in the small, trendy town of New Hope, Pennsylvania, Daniel Patrick Darling II disappeared after a fun night out with his friends, not to be seen since. What happened to Danny Darling?
Detective Keller visits Mr. Darling’s closest friends in search of answers about his whereabouts. Danny’s best friends Josh, Nathan, Blake, and Michael try to recall their last night with Danny, but some memories are fuzzy, and some memories shouldn’t be remembered.
Most of Danny’s friends hit the news hard about his disappearance, but a few breathed a sigh of relief. This sometimes manipulative and vindictive bitch was gone and the secrets he knew vanished with him. Without Danny around to taunt his frenemies about their filthy deeds, they thought they were in the clear. However, when the boys begin receiving menacing messages from an anonymous stalker, it’s clear the drama will not end with Danny’s disappearance. Someone knows all their secrets and is threatening everything and everyone they hold dear.
chapter 1
daniel’s buried truths
I'M NOT SURE HOW LONG I have been trapped in this box, my coffin. It was hot and was getting harder to breathe. I think I became slightly delirious from lack of oxygen. I also soiled myself, which was embarrassing and made it more uncomfortable. Not only have I regretted how I left things with Damien, I could not get Ethan's final moments out of my head.
That gurgling sound haunted me and with that horrific memory, tears flowed down my cheek. Ethan was butchered in front of me; I watched the blood flow out of his mouth and down his chest. I watched as he was repeatedly stabbed. I watched the life drain out of his blue eyes, he was really gone. Why didn't I meet the same fate? I had been left here to suffer. To be buried with my lies. It was my idea. It was my plan that started all of this. I was the one who convinced Ethan it was the right thing to do. Why destroy our lives because of someone else, but it turns out our lives are already been destroyed. It’s my fault Ethan was dead—an eye for an eye. I couldn’t stop it, I just watched. I couldn’t stop him.
The red “LIAR” on my iPhone screen slowly started to dim as the battery faded. I could feel myself fading as well. I just wanted to sleep, but I feared the nightmares because they were real. The monster does not sleep under your bed; they sleep inside your head. Monsters are real.
I mumbled out, “Josh.” Then I gave into the sleepiness, I gave into the darkness. I drifted away. I just wanted it to be quiet. I hoped this was the end, but I knew it was only the beginning. He’s coming.
chapter 2
joshua meets a dick.
IT WAS ALMOST PAINFUL TO look at him, but at the same time, I couldn’t look away. He was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid my eyes on. Danny would be rolling his eyes right now at me.
“Joshua, what are you doing?” he would ask. “Don’t fall in love!”
I fell hard. I always fall hard. It was sickening sometimes. I am a hopeless romantic after all.
The dawn light that gleamed in through the window made my lover look angelic. I was in awe of his beauty. He was far from an angel, though.
The things I let him do to my body last night would have made the devil blush.
I would say it was love at first sight, but Danny would say, “It’s just lust, Joshie. Don’t get so caught up in it.” However, it was too late for that. I was engulfed in it.
I stared at his face for a moment, hoping he wouldn’t wake up and catch me gawking at him. He had a jawline for days—manly, strong. I could not not touch him. I crawled up next to him and placed my head onto his bare chest—snuggled in Tristan’s nook.
I traced my finger around Tristan’s nipple, while listening to his echo of breath emanating from his muscular chest. I played with Tristan’s light patch of chest hair and followed the lovely sparse hair down towards his belly button. He stirred slightly and scrunched his face, letting out a little moan.
“That tickles, Josh,” he groaned as he lifted his arms above his head, stretching.
“Sorry,” I said with a smirk. I pressed my face into his chest and took a deep breath, letting his sexy musky smell invade my lungs. “I could stay like this forever.”
“Me too,” Tristan sighed as he tilted his head forward and kissed the top of my forehead.
“What time do you have to be back to the base?” I asked.
“I have to be back in Fort Dix by tonight, which means I should probably get up and shower.”
“I think someone’s already up,” I said as I placed my hand on his crotch. There was only a thin sheet that separated us from hand to skin contact. “And I like you dirty. The filthier, the better.” I propped himself up, tilting my face forward to steal a kiss.
