A TRANSCENDENT Excerpt: “Face to Face” by Trevor Abbud

The giant would arrive soon. The face of Death was heart-shaped, its eyes marked from the jagged engravings of a blade. Its long appendages loomed over him like some macabre octopus that was born out of the Lake of Hell. Protracted claws beckoned for him to come. Its green hair swayed in the constant gale storm of this wasteland world. Above the monster, a full moon shone brightly. In this nightmare, it conveyed not beauty but a formidable bullet hole in the ebony flesh of the sky.

“Come…Harold.” Its raspy voice whispered through the tree branches.

A multitude of icicles linked, glaciating his blood.

Part of him wanted to go, an infected part wanted to give into the sick enticement within that whisper. He couldn’t stand it anymore: the haunting nightmare of being chased by the ungodly creature, the dark deserted landscape crafted by trauma and love.

He drove again, along a road he had been down before. He was coming face to face with the wrinkled, brown flesh of the giant in a rapid rush and—

“But you wake up…before anything happens,” Dr. Martin Napieralski concluded the ending of the nightmare while uncrossing his legs. He removed his glasses and placed them on his desk. He used his thumb and forefinger to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Like always.”

“That’s right, Stein,” Harold said, nicknaming the doctor after the American author/actor Ben Stein because of their physical likeness. The lethargic eyes, his big naked pate, that sardonic yet, intelligent smirk where a low, slow, patient tone of voice—as if a bullfrog was lodged in his gullet—came from. If drying paint had a voice, it would most likely resemble Stein’s.

Harold liked Stein because he didn’t bullshit.

Rising from his chair, Napieralski walked over to a medium-size bookshelf. “And this is what, the fourth? No, the fifth time in the last month? This night terror?”

Before the first, he spent six months behind bars for vehicular manslaughter. After that, another five months exiling himself from life, where he smoked cheap cigarettes, drank cheaper beer, and slept every day away as he lost his new job at the factory and watched his savings, which consisted of a Sour Cream Pringles container filled with loose change, dwindle.

Then, the first nightmare attacked. A month away from the threatening one-year anniversary of the accident—the death of Darla Day—the giant, looming, green monster paid him a visit in the dead of night—when ghosts come out to play.

 

 

 

Transcendent - Amazon Kindle

 

Trevor Abbud is an up-and-coming author writing speculative fiction. Developing a taste for literature as a young adult, Abbud took a serious interest in writing. His short stories and poems have been published by Twisted Vine Literary Arts Journal, GFT Press, GNU Journal, Foliate Oak Literary Magazine, Chantwood Magazine, The Broke Bohemian, Seshat Magazine and The hungry Chimera. Abbud is currently developing a collection of short stories.

 

 

 

Get your hands on the limited-edition hardback copy of TRANSCENDENTonly at transmudanepress.com

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