Hell Town RV Park
For Those Who Believe in Other Worlds
by Clara Bush
Artwork by Lara Clayton
(To start at the beginning, Episode 1, click here .)
(Rated Mature for Adult content)
Chapter 2: On Gate World
(Last time on Hell Town: Females chosen to deliver Time Three babies were entranced during mating. Months later, these women would discover they were pregnant and have no idea as to how it happened or who the father might be. They were scorned by family and friends, which resulted in isolation for the expecting mothers. This isolation Time Three fathers preferred. It made it easy for them to keep tabs on the progress of their spawns by impersonating doctors, preachers, or other caregivers.)
Stranger Earths: Leo’s Timerees (aka the Time Threes)
Disguised as the baby’s caregiver or preacher, Timeree fathers influenced the name choices of their children using their powers of suggestion on adoptive parents. Leo’s chosen disciples—three females and three males—had been given names associated with Earthling animals whose powers most matched theirs. The girls were Ibis the Healer, Sabre the Solitary, and Gazelle the Wanderer (Gaze for short). The boys were Kite the Prophet, Lynx the Secret, and Jag the Strong.
Leo’s first mother—his favorite—had told him, Leo was the fifth Zodiac sign and was symbolized by the lion. The woman never realized the images of a fierce lion who was noble, loyal, and just were placed there by Leo’s Timeree father. She was fond of her new son’s name especially as she watched him grow and interact with others. Even as a child, Leo fancied himself superior—a king—and regarded his peers—and most assuredly his disciples—as his subjects.
For the sake of records, social security numbers, and other such identification documentation, “the” was eliminated from the kids’ names, but the Timerees were fully aware of the power of “the” and what it meant.
To them, “the” signified the one and only. And if two Timerees children were given the same name, it would be necessary for the individuals to fight to death to claim the title. For this reason, Timeree fathers searched diligently for a name that could not be duplicated. Unless, they were a cruel Timeree who cared less if his child lived or died, which, like some humans, did happen. This, however, was not the case for Leo and his disciples.
Gaze, the blonde, wrestled even as a baby with her desire to wander. Lying on top of the examination table, in only a newborn diaper, Gaze’s Timeree father—her pediatrician—watched as her eyes never focused but instead darted from door to window in search of any type of escape. “What’s wrong with my baby,” the new mother gasped when the door flew open of its own accord.
The pediatrician nonchalantly closed the door—as if this sort of thing happened often—then patted the mother’s head to delete the memory. “Why nothing, dear,” he said. “She is like a graceful little Gazelle. Swift and agile. Flitting about here and there, and perhaps, with a propensity for wanderlust. A desirable trait for a modern day female indeed. They’ll be no tying her down to a domestic life filled with boredom and the mundane.” The doctor continued to stroke the mother’s head until it filled with images of a balletic gazelle bounding and loping over wild grasses.
“Ah yes,” the mother said. “I will name her Gazelle. I love that name.” She left the doctor’s office clutching her new infant to her breast, mesmerized by the child’s perfection and thoughts of raising a strong, independent woman.
The scenario was similar for all of Leo’s disciples. Ibis, the ginger, touched her new mom and the mother’s symptoms of an approaching flu vanished. The attending male nurse (Timeree father of Ibis) took advantage of the situation. “What an angelic baby. And see how her touch eased your cough.”
Though she thought it an odd respond, the new mother said, “Yes, I do feel better. I think my fever has lifted.”
“Your daughter is like the rare Scarlet Ibis,” the nurse said.
The mother was puzzled. She’d had her new adoptive daughter for less than twenty-four hours and, being new to parenting, she really didn’t know what to expect from a baby or a caregiver. “Why an Ibis?”
The nurse took her hand. (Touching is necessary for Time Threes to mentally suggest thoughts to humans.) “It’s an extraordinary myth. You’ve never heard it?”
The woman shook her head in a trance-like reply as visions of a Scarlet Ibis danced about in her head.
“The Ibis is connected to the Egyptian god Thoth and the goddess Isis. Thoth is depicted as an Ibis-headed man in ancient hieroglyphics. And Isis is known as the goddess of healing. I think you have an Ibis on your hands.” He suggested.
“Yes. Ibis. She’s a beautiful Ibis,” the mother said as the nurse led her and her red-haired baby to the check-out desk.
Other members of Leo’s untouchable group received their names in much the same way. Kite’s mother was influenced by her preacher who told her that her new son seemed all-knowing, like a prophet, which reminded him of the bird.
“You mean a Kite?” the mother asked. She’d never heard of such a bird and knew nothing about the creature, but an image of it and its name appeared in her mind.
Preacher man looked at her in awe. Like it was her idea. “Yes, exactly, a Kite. What a lovely name. Always gliding above and beyond this world like the prophets of old.”
When Jag was examined by the on-call pediatrician the night his new mom couldn’t get him to stop crying, he kicked at the probing hands with such force the stethoscope went flying. The doctor remarked, “Strong as a Jaguar.”
Lynx was handed off to the daycare supervisor after spending only a couple of days with his new adoptive mom. She had a job and work to do.
The baby nestled down into his blankee, eyes tightly shut, chin tucked in. “What a quiet little thing. So still. So hidden. But potent like a secret. Like a Lynx,” the supervisor said.
Sabre came to her adoptive mom with teeth. “Isn’t this unusual?” she asked the social worker.
“No, not at all,” he said. “Rare. But that merely emphasizes the preciousness of this child. Like a sabre toothed-tiger. Extinct here in our world, but maybe not in other places. A fearless, magnificent creature, ready to take life by the teeth and cease it for all it’s worth.”
The mom swaddled her infant and cuddled her to her chest. “I’ve never thought of it like that. And I’d have never thought of such a name. I like it. Suits her. Hopefully she will be as unique and brave as a sabre toothed-tiger.”
It was in this fashion Timeree fathers participated in the naming and rearing of their children. They had little empathy for the Earth moms, but treated them kind enough so no distrust would arise in their relationship. Mothering instincts no longer existed in Timeree females, which made it necessary for Timeree fathers to leave their spawns with their Earth moms for safe keeping. Also, this action of staying the course, caused far less suspicion from authorities.
—
Leo didn’t want the human emotion, but excitement bubbled inside him, tingling like a carbonated beverage. In a matter of minutes, he and Piper would be together. Should he hold her hand? Caress the inside of her thigh? Kiss her immediately? That’s what he wanted to do. Feel her lips on his. He’d never wanted to kiss other human girls. He’d only needed them for one of two things, pap or copulation, and sometimes both. Piper was different, but how? He couldn’t figure out what made her so tempting to him.
She wasn’t perfect like Timerees females, but in those eyes of hers, in their depths, there was something so much more than a mere human. He wanted to be able to look into them for extended periods of time and decipher her mystery. When he was finished with her, when she’d showed him how to find The Shimmer on Gate World, he’d cut out her eyes and preserve them so they’d be his forever.
A knot wrenched in his gut. The thought of Piper dying didn’t thrill him the way it had with all his other girlfriends. And in his over one-hundred-and-fifty years of existence, on this rock mankind called Earth, Leo had had many. Instead, the idea of her death sickened him.
His stomach churned, sending a burning sensation into his throat. He’d told Piper to meet him at the cemetery. He didn’t want her walking down her street, through the park, over the bridge, in the dark—alone.
Leo did a U-turn in his deceased dad’s, paid-in-full, red GMC pick-up. It felt good behind the wheel of his own car. It was his, right? No one was around to object. He’d drive down Piper’s street and find her before she’d gone too far.
He passed one cookie-cutter home after another, never waving, never slowing for late night couples on walks or bikes. Instead, he beeped relentlessly and sped by once his way was clear, oblivious to the numerous middle-finger salutes aimed at him.
“There she is,” he mumbled, thinking she looked cuter than anything. Skinny jeans accented her big booty as she sashayed on her way to her final destination. Her long, auburn hair, whipped behind her in the breeze. A tight, contoured T-shirt showed off her tiny waist. It was the one that proclaimed, Girls Are Meaner. He remembered it from the day she wore it to school and was teased. He got even with the jokesters though. One touch and he sent a bout of unending diarrhea their way.
Leo pulled up beside Piper, rolled down his window, and wolf-whistled at her. “Hey, beautiful, can I give you a lift?”
The smile on her face and look in her eyes told him all he needed to know, and when she slid into the seat next to him, he kissed her. Gently. But demanding everything she had to offer. “My mom is out for the evening. Mind if we go back to my house for a while?”
Piper pressed into him, put her lips on his, and touched his bottom lip with her tongue. Then leaned away. Her smile gave him the go ahead.
He sped back down the same street. This time waving to those who had previously offered the middle-finger salute. “You will have to wait in the car for a minute. My room is a mess. I need to pick it up before I invite you in.” He needed to get rid of his third mom’s body. He was hungry so he could take a bite or two and then toss her in the freezer for later. She was old so she wouldn’t give him much pap. Or sway for that matter. But maybe it would be enough to enhance his performance with Piper. He hadn’t eaten any real food in years.
Piper smiled. “You don’t have to. My room stays a mess.”
He’d seen her room. At night. While she slept. And he knew she lied. It was organized and tidy.
He took her hand and kissed the palm. “I know, but I might lose you in my mess of a room. And I don’t want to do that.”
The smile. The eyes. He wanted her. Wanted her bad. He’d have to be careful. He didn’t want to impregnate her yet. Not now. Not before he knew how to access The Shimmer. But tonight he could give her—and himself—what they both wanted and leave her begging for more.
To continue the adventures of the Hell Town Web Serial, click on the link below.
Author’s Comment
The WEB SERIAL, or WTH is it?
With the onset of the technology boom, authors are discovering innovative ways to get their works in front of readers. However, though the web serial relies on the internet for distribution, it is not a new idea. It’s much like how writers became known before the days of mass-produced, full-length novels. Earlier writers, such as Mark Twain, released a chapter at a time, on a regular basis, in newspapers or magazines. This is the same concept as the Web Serial. Writers publish their works in bite-sized, one-sitting reads to facilitate the hurried reader. The web helps to make it easily accessible to the writer’s fan base.
Hell Town offers episodes of 1,000 to 2,000 words in length and is considered a tightly cohesive style of web serial. This type intertwines episodes with each other and depends on the reader being familiar with the story. It is meant to be read as one might read a book.
About the Artist
Lara resides in the Texas hill country with her two adorable but exhausting little boys, her husband, and two male dogs. She confesses her life is dominated by male influence.
She graduated from Trinity University in 2009 with her Bachelor’s degree in art and with an art history minor. During her life, she has worn many hats—bartender, barista, massage therapist, newspaper circulation manager, wine shop manager, and the list continues. These life experiences have added a richness and depth to her artwork.
Through it all, she has quietly honed her passions for art. “The starving artist is only a half joke,” she says. “When I had my first son, I surprised myself by finding my niche as a preschool teacher.” A career choice she has embraced for the past five years. “My experience as a bartender—dealing with the drinkers—was a great prerequisite for teaching small children,” she says and giggles.
For several years, Lara put her artwork aside to teach and delve headfirst into the chaotic life of caring for a houseful of boys. “Before children, my artwork had always been calm. Abstracts and nature were relaxing,” she says. “But my older son’s love of monsters and all things grotesque, along with my muse of a husband, have led me to a new path. I now begin a different journey, creating monsters and other worlds for writers. I’m excited to bring to life some of the creepy characters and creatures of Hell Town. Please, let me know what you think by leaving a comment.”
(Note: Lara is a new addition to the Hell Town RV Park Web Serial family. She is a former drama and English student of mine, and is on her way to accomplishing her dream of becoming a freelance artist. The illustrations are the original artwork of Lara and are created specifically for Hell Town.)
We both would love your feedback. And if you are looking for an artist, Lara is available.
Copyright
The RV Files is fiction. Any characters and events depicted in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, extraterrestrials, demons, werewolves, or ghosts—living or dead—is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright ©: 2017 by Clara Bush
All rights reserved. Published by TURTLE TOP COVE LP.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
For information regarding permission, write to:
TURTLE TOP COVE LP.
Attention: Permissions
P.O. Box 158
South Fork, Colorado 81154
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any mean, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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