5 Omnibus Edition E-Book

Ripley King

• Herausgeber: Ripley King
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

Immortality. Paranormal private investigators. Revenge. Then add in vampires, and so much more. The heart of darkness beats strong here with twenty-five (25) of the best short stories from Ripley King.

Leseprobe

5 Omnibus Edition

The 5 series.

Ripley King

Published by Ripley King, 2016.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

5 OMNIBUS EDITION

First edition. January 31, 2016.

Copyright © 2016 Ripley King.

Written by Ripley King.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Also by Ripley King

The 5 series.

One Last 5

5

5 More

Another 5

Again, 5

5 Omnibus Edition

Standalone

And Jesus Wept

Burnt Offerings

Earth Improvement Day

Lonely Hero Thing

Love Dark

Nightstrider: The Spaces Between

Shift Change

The Pre-dead Saga

Watch for more at Ripley King’s site.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Ripley King

Dedication

5 Omnibus Edition (The 5 series.)

Abracadabra Is Just A Word, Isn’t It?

How the People Kept Their Power

Origins: Little Demon Dolly

Lea Beth

In The Becoming

As Things Should Be

The Why Things Are

The Godslayer Device

Another 5 - Only ___ Shopping Day(s) Left Until Xmas!

1600 Pennsylvania Avenue

The Boogeyman’s Sister

Have you ever felt real . . .

Shoosh, it’s a Secret

Again, 5 - Welcome To Machine

The Last First Hour

Wisdom Divine

Monkey’s Meat

Love’s Gift

One Last 5 - Fire with Fire

For the Greater Good

Fit for Survival

Two Souls at Sundown

Percible Traynor’s Quest for Immortality

Everything Ripley King

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Further Reading: Love Dark

Also By Ripley King

About the Author

 

Mind candy for those who like it dark, deep, and delicious.

5 - Serve Revenge Hot

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Bryan with the bright green eyes saw it coming. His mother’s eyes, intelligent eyes, expressing love and joy. Eyes alive with wonder at almost everything this world had to offer. Eyes filled in their final moments with an unfathomable fear.

He pushed his fat, raspberry colored, fluffy teddy bear Pudgy to one side, off the back seat of the car and onto the floorboard so Pudgy wouldn’t get hurt. Such a considerate boy.

He closed those beautiful eyes, actually pinched them shut; then hunched his narrow shoulders and pulled a thin arm up to cover his handsome little-boy face.

A useless gesture, like all useless gestures, conceived of in a moment of desperation. It was the best he could do. The only thing he could think of at the time. Nobody could fault him for it, he was only five fucking years old.

The sawed-off scattershot blew his little arm and hand apart, a bloody wad. Bryan’s head splooshed into a cloud of red and gray, yellow hair and pinkish-gray brain tissue coating the automobile’s plush rear interior.

Everything he was—the questioning crooked smile, bundle of feet running through the house when he was told repeatedly not to, stubborn foot stomping “I don’t wanna go to bed yet!” bouncing baby boy—gone. Just gone.

––––––––

“BRYAN!”

Screaming your dead son’s name jolts you awake, your heart racing. The grisly vision of your son’s murder fresh in your mind. Cold clammy sweat pours off you to dry in the chill night air, realizing it was another nightmare, one of several, realizing it wasn’t quite light out yet, the dawn a couple of hours away from what the digital display says.

You’ll never get back to sleep now, and it’s no big thing. You haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in three years. Five hours most nights, four hours this night.

Did the neighbors hear you scream?

Maybe the scream was all in your head. And if the walls did carry the sound, it wouldn’t be the first time. Frankly, you don’t give a shit. The nosy neighbors can kiss your hairy ass, for all you care. Give your farthest hole a good Frenching. Like they don’t have their faults?

Old man Cruthers, across the hall and to the left, all gut and no ass, pacing the narrow hallway at night in his dirty socks, boxers and tee. The old man is tolerably lucid, and when asked can hold an interesting conversation about the state of the building or the weather. A serious attempt at an overall exercise program? Shed a few pounds?

Walking, good for the soul.

Or desperate Deena, forty-five years desperate, fat and ugly ta-boot. Nightly ordering takeout from every joint around the neighborhood, hoping to get lucky, hoping one of the delivery drivers is more desperate than she. Most waive the tip and run like hell. Once in a great while she gets lucky and gets laid. She has to have a hell of a job to pay for what little comfort she receives.

The warmth of another soul, pushing the bush.

Last but not least is Mrs. Boswellia directly across the corridor, hovering day and night by her peep hole. The only thing more exciting than NYPD Blue reruns or Oprah is the soap opera that plays out beyond her apartment’s windows or peep hole. Maybe Mrs. Boswellia has a thing for old man Cruthers in his boxers, fat gut and flat assed as he is.

Maybe old man Cruthers is hoping desperate Deena will notice him and extend an invite. Give him a nut draining blow job or a roll on the carpet. Fat people sex.