Collect10n

By Daniel Flores

Keep. It. Simple. (I say…)

Strangers awaken to find themselves bound and tethered. Whereabouts unknown. A mysterious Host eyes them like prizes, and taunts them like animals in a cage. Nine travelers as different in age and background as they are in experience and temperament. They’ll be thrown together in a twisted and macabre party of sorts, a coerced evening of storytelling, designed to entertain their peculiar and poetic Host, some unseen entity, and each other.
In the tradition of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, Bradbury’s Illustrated Man, and Palahniuk’s Haunted, what you are about to read is a collection of stories tied together somehow, maybe, and intended, hopefully, to entertain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664177451

Daniel Flores

This is the second offering from Flores. His first work, Journal, was published in 2014. His favorite color is black, he drives too fast, and he detests the heat. He resides in southern California.

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Copyright © 2021 by Daniel Flores.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 06/10/2021

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

827964

Dead men tell no tales…you hope.

NDMM

CONTENTS

Intro…

Prologue…

Chapter One

The Loner’s Tale

Rasah Mitzvah

Chapter Two

The Freshman’s Tale

The Mayan

Chapter Three

The Mommy’s Tale

Frames

Chapter Four

The Mayor’s Tale

Sandals At Deadwood

Chapter Five

The Divorcee’s Tale

Love Letters From Camp

*Intermiss10n*

Chapter Six

The Farmer’s Tale

Animal Games (Or: Hunger Farm)

*The Poet’s Interlude*

Chapter Seven

The Jeweler’s Tale

The Most Precious Gem

Chapter Eight

The Coach’s Tale

No Balls, Only Strikes

*The Poet’s Interlude, Vol. II*

Chapter Nine

The Agent’s Tale

The Case Of The Severed Ear

Chapter Ten

The Final Tale

The Ballad Of The Wraith

Epilogue…

Finale…

INTRO…

THE DUST HAD settled, that first day was done, and a long, frightening night lay waiting ahead, with shadows and strange flashes of light intermittently startling all as if separate agendas signaling sinister things to come were the only truths needing to be told.

And me, the messenger, they say The Poet, others whisper host or villain, I don’t have the answers they suspect I do, yet as the one who drove them here, hooded, seem to have the responsibility, dare I say the burden, for executing the orders explained to me just twenty short hours ago, dubiously to say the least, awakened as I was and led, hooded, into the dry wash behind the grocery store, before this long day began.

Their chatter, mostly inaudible murmurs, as they gather around the water, I sense has more to do with the bumpy, dusty bus ride in hot, close quarters, seated in sweaty twos on sticky vinyl seats, windows removed around them, allowing heat, wind, dirt, insects, ambient smells, then cooler breezes, then staler scents, and finally an abrupt stop, followed by seemingly hours, though in reality just twelve minutes, of deafening silence, followed by aggressively aided removal from the bus.

I alone, tasked with this awesome odyssey, ignorant as to why, though excited by the prospect, and willing to do my part, no, lead the expedition into the woods, to a presumably well-marked spot, how deep in I cannot be sure, but entrusted, no, entreated, no enlisted(!) to take these travelers along for the hike, or death march, to parts unknown, for reasons unexplained, for purpose promised to eventually be revealed. I lead, they follow, tethered to a rope…

PROLOGUE…

KEEP. IT. SIMPLE.

Friday---5 pm---Whittier, CA.

Done with work. Hit the gym. Left when certain trainer wasn’t available. Drove home. Sunset setting in. Parked the car. Grabbed my bag from the backseat. Unlatched the side gate. Went around the side of the main house to my back unit. Eerily quiet. Where are the dogs? Why isn’t Miss Landlady watering her plants? Wha--? (*Lights out*)

Night, night.

5:30-ish. The Canyon

Guess I got clocked. I’m sitting up now, but I was lying on a picnic table along one of those local hiking trails. I know where I am but not how I got here. Back of my head smarts. No blood. Bit dizzy. As I fully come to I notice it. A brown paper bag. Shopping bag? Or gift bag? Black X written in sharpie. Casually, carelessly taped closed. Ooooh-Kaaaaay…?? I look inside.

6 pm (ish?)---walking home

So I’m thinking about the directions written in the notebooks inside the bag. Directions? No, orders. I know I have no choice but to obey. Ethics, morals, phobias, upbringing, whatever would give me pause, I throw out the window. It’s not blackmail. I know why I was chosen. Still, logistics? What the f***? Where do I begin? Home Depot? Office Depot? Army/Navy outlet? Pet Co.?? I keep thinking. And walking.

7 pm---shopping---Uptown

I go to Brockyln’s first for the rope, grease, ties, clips, and paper. Then, McGray’s for milk, butter, eggs, and cheese. SPA doesn’t have chains so I get them at Mr. Hoang’s place. I go to the garage at Mike’s and gather tire irons, bolts, screws, nails, and a bucket. I know Uncle Ray has a crowbar I can take without him noticing. I stop at Rocky Café for a bite to eat. Grilled cheese, onion rings, and a vanilla shake. Then I’m off to my place to get ready. My second to last stop is OKC Mega where I get baggies, zipties, lids, balls, chainsaw, trenchcoats, and the lawn bags to pack everything.

8 pm—my apartment (back unit)—The un-Friendly Hills

The keys to the vehicle are waiting suspiciously on my kitchenette counter. Rabbit foot keychain attached. It’s more than mildly disconcerting to see a pink rabbit’s foot but I mostly ignore that fact. Who knows when I’ll get a hot shower again so I decide that’s priority one. I take my time with it. I let the hot water rinse away dirt, sweat, and the transgressions that got me here. I inhale steam that fills my lungs, makes me cough, and brings tears to my eyes. I open my mouth to scald my teeth, tongue, and throat with hot water. I soap up and cleanse. I close my eyes. I breathe in and breathe out. I’m pure. For now.

Black stretch jeans. Minor knee rips but they’ll do.

Black thermal with grey clover at the collar.

Black socks with gold toe, pulled up to the knees.

Black underwear. Sorry. Weird.

Black leather gloves.

Black Air Jordan 3s, with the cool elephantine cement look.

Black zipped hoodie. (In case.)

Black rubber gloves. (In case.)

Black surgical mask. (In case.)

Black sports tape. (In case.)

I think that’s everything.

Shoulder bag, messenger bag. I laugh. Check. A few other needed things: utility knife, gauze, smelling salts, chloroform, beanie.

8:45 pm---heading out—605 freeway

It took a minute to figure out the bus. Crazy old stick shift. The bus groans, creaks, bangs, and thuds. Like I’m in a submarine instead of a bus. Other motorists are blasting their horns at me, high-beaming me, flipping me off (LOL!) The gas fumes, exhaust smell kind of buzz me out a little. I just laugh. I tilt a bit turning onto the on-ramp. The momentum propels me forward as if I’d fly out the windshield if it suddenly popped out. Good thing my gloves give me good grip on the old cruddy steering wheel. There’s duct tape around it so that helps too. I drive for about 45 minutes. Looking at the list They gave me, I know the first stop will be the hardest by far. I drive…

__________________________________________________

STOP #1…

CHAPTER ONE

(Containing the lead up to, and the complete description of, the telling of The Loner’s Tale…)

THEY QUENCH THEIR thirsts and quell (some of) their concerns and realize their wrists are no longer bound, allowing them to rub and caress away the soreness, remove their hoods, and look around at their surroundings, knowing (finally) where they are; well, that is to say, they can tell the type of terrain they’re in; their faces haggard, their eyes dart here and there like fidgety rodents’ eyes would, their lower bodies (feet, legs, hips) tensed and twisted like sprinters ready to get set and go at the bang! of a starter pistol.

It’s my job, I suppose, to play facilitator.

I shout out,

"Ok everyone, freeze. Relax. Simon says ‘relax’. Well (chuckle) I know you can’t, but just stay put. Sit if you’re dizzy, stomp if you’re cold, it helps, and we’ll get started shortly."

Started?! What the hell? Started with what?

(That’s the Coach. I expected this.)

Why are we here? You have no right!

(That’s the Mommy, frantic, also anticipated).

Ladies. Gentlemen. Other. Pease be patient. You’re in no danger. I promise you. No harm will come to you. If. You’re patient.

(That’s me. I didn’t expect that. Veiled threat. But effective.)

Please sir, please just—

(The Jeweler. Very calm, polite, but--)

Stop right there, my friend.

(I interrupt him. Raise my hand in a firm STOP motion. He retreats.)

"Patience. Now, continue, please, to hydrate yourselves. A few snacks will be provided in a minute. Provided, that is, if you all stay patient. This will all be over before you know it. Patients."

(A homophone they can