Broken Things

By Jennifer Oneal Gunn

Broken Things is a new anthology of ten tales of horror brought to you by the author of Devil's in the Details--Reboot and Mystik Legends, the mistress of the macabre, Jennifer Oneal Gunn.

Jennifer takes you on another set of dark, gritty, and often bloody adventures that with satiate your taste for the gruesome and strange.

She unlocks the door for you. All you have to do is walk inside...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Oneal Gunn
• Release date: Oct 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201124755

Jennifer Oneal Gunn

Jennifer Oneal Gunn Was Born January 2, 1979 In Carthage, Missouri, To Parents Who Would End Up The Parents Of Three Children. At An Early Age, She Started Learning And Knowing Her Imagination. It Was Evident, There Was Always Something Inside Her, Waiting To Get Out. Today, A Single Mother Of Two, Jennifer Writes In A Plethora Of Different Genres; From Nightmare-Inducing Horror To Feminine Poetry. She's Studied The Art Of Writing Since She Was Fourteen. She Also Uses Her Passion For Reading In Her Career As A Freelance Editor, Formatter, And Cover Art Designer. Recently, Jennifer Has Also Given Way To Her Artistic Side. She Illustrates Children’s Books Sometimes, Too. Her Titles Include Mystik Legends, Devil's In The Details- Reboot, Fire, Ice & Blood-The Story Of Jake And Holly Book 1(Revenging The Evil Series), The Heart Of A Woman (Poetry), Squishy Face And The Moon (Children’s) And Some Free Reads On Her Website.

Book preview

Broken Things

Horror Anthology

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Jennifer Oneal Gunn

Broken Things

Horror Anthology

Jennifer Oneal Gunn

Copyright ©2021

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Mother—The Fanfiction of Psycho is a short story chapter that is where I think it might have left off in the book by Robert Bloch. It is for entertainment purposes only and I hold no rights to this author’s work.

All rights reserved. Any copying of this material is subject to copyright laws and violators will be prosecuted. Any and all events herein are works of fiction and likeness to true-to-life events is purely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

01/002021

ASIN:

For Allen

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For no other reason than, I’m your mother and I love you.

Titles also by this author:

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Mystik Legends

Devil’s in the Details-Reboot

Fire, Ice & Blood

The Heart of a Woman

Squishy Face and the Moon

Tortured Souls

The Story of Jake and Holly—A Novella

"This morning of mist, this fog laden, noisy atrophy called day...she spins her tales, waxes her sounds amid the dreary. In the depth of pondering daylight, but not so sightless, soundless, and urgent as this day. She screams with the cawing of crows and the night things still singing their songs, well after daybreak.

As I walked, I thought of you, in this misty morning, gloom overshadowing what is in my heart. The band-aid stuck over the wound, seeping at the edges. I whispered to myself, Just a little longer. Wait just a little longer." The beating of my heart quickened thinking of you while I walked alone on the streets in the endless fog, listening to the noises in the gray mist.

Still so much to ponder and yet, the noisiness in my head was louder than the world around me. Just continue to breathe.

–Jennifer Oneal Gunn 2016

Table of Contents:

End of Days

Broken Thing, Broken Wings

Dr. Avery M.D., Psycho

Her Uncaged Heart

The Murder of Walter Martin

Chucky Bunnies/A Cult of Personality

The Void

Ghost Town

MOTHER—The Fanfiction of Psycho

We’re All Mad Here, Alice...

FORWARD

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Hello again, my dear readers of the dark. This is a book containing more of that inner darkness that resides in us all. I had more stories I wanted to tell you but didn’t include them in the first anthology. They were written feverishly during raging insanity and have since been edited a bit but they are still my brand of darkness.

These stories were written from 2012 to 2021. The first one is the only thing I wrote for several months during a trying time. After those maddening months, I wrote three manuscripts almost back-to-back in six months. They were messy but they were a way back from the darkest my soul has ever been. Since that time, I have written a few more manuscripts, a little more poetry, and a few more shorts, along with a few screenplays. All of which I cherish because I am still here to do the job of creating using my mind.

Some of the stories in the anthology are close to my heart for one reason or another. I can remember where I was in life when I wrote some of them. Some of them were just plain fun to write and therefore something I thought readers might enjoy. I cannot pick one as a favorite over others. When I released the first anthology, it had been a culmination of a couple of good years of practice at writing shorter stories as I hadn’t done that before. This one is different. It shows how those exercises paid off in terms of learning the craft.

One of these stories made me tear up a little when I read it again. I bet you can’t guess which one. If you can, then dear readers, you know me better than I thought. [Laughs.] I do hope you enjoy this tiny evolution in my writing as much as I did/do.

I said I couldn’t pick a favorite but I do like to experiment with elements and styles. There should be something for everyone. I went deliberately old-school in at least one of these stories. That was fun. I felt a little like Poe only not as poetic. There are also two vastly different zombie stories in this book. I never thought I would kind of sell out and do what some people are into but I decided at those times to just write it as it came to me. (No, they don’t talk. You might find this strange, but once upon a time, I read a few with talking zombies and that seemed beyond me.)

I warn you, there is a lot of murder and mayhem in this book. It isn’t for the squeamish or weak of heart. There is a reason I call this one Broken Things. Sometimes we are all the broken things that no one wants to see or hear, but we are still here, still going even if we aren’t perfect. Our wings might be bent and mangled but here we are still trudging along, making our way toward something. And so it goes...

Well, my beloved readers, here we are. Are you ready to take on these new adventures with me? I hope so and I do hope you enjoy them ever so much. [Insert witchy cackling sounds here.]

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Much love,

Jen~

END OF DAYS

Remiel—the ever-faithful...

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The gates of Hell whispered hot consequences as I entered and walked down the barren path through the desecrated home of demons. As the picture laid itself out before me, I knew only death lived here. My wings slowly started to melt away and fall off; the feathers burning as they hit the ground one by one. All hope of leaving this place left my mind and I started to forget goodness and light. Fires and smoke before me laid waste to the trapped souls screaming to be set free. Blood red skies and stark masses of dead trees off in the distance, stared back at me. No true living being could have inhabited what looked like the pits of Hell, yet, I walked on in the guttural gloom.

The toes of my boots were blood-soaked and ruined. My clothes were too hot to bear much longer, but I kept them on so I wouldn’t burn as I looked at what became of the land that once looked so familiar. Had I truly returned to Hell?

Flickers of light in the misty smoke from the fires caught my eye so I followed them.

Broken glass shattered and charred peeked out from the wreckage of metal I passed by on my way through the gates. Blood stained the ground I walked on and soaked into it like porous holes opened up in the earth trampled down from the surface. The broken, dried ground was soiled in many places with these dark patches. As I walked past the spot the wreckage was laid out, I noticed a tower in the middle, burning at the bottom, windows broken out, the wind and smoke blowing through the holes where huge panes of glass used to sit, glaring in the sun.

I saw bible pages blowing in the wind so I bent down and picked one up to read it. Squinting, I read, ‘Yea, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.’ I remembered hearing that one a lot growing up, if only she could see what had become of this place she once loved. As with all my memories, it faded too quickly and I let go of the page, letting it soar off into the hellish mess beyond.

The ground was hot. I kept moving through the wreckage, getting closer to the tower. It was so high the clouds of smoke and ash circled the top giving it an ominous look. The blackness of the tower etched against the skies as if drawn by a bad artist, coming out of nowhere, dark and full of horrid things waiting to be let out onto the ground to roam for prey.

The red skies began to darken into a purplish haze as nighttime was falling upon the place I awoke in this morning. I wasn’t sure of one thing: Was I alive or dead? All of my body seemed intact but that didn’t matter. Dead people often thought they were alive when they weren’t. If I was dead, then surely, I was in Hell because apparently, I had done enough wrong to belong there. As I pondered the thought of life or death, I walked on, skirting fires, ash piles, and cars that no longer looked like cars but framed skeletal remains of something from once upon a time in a land