Charnel Harbor by S.D. Hintz
Copyright 2009 Lyrical Press, Inc.

  • Charnel Harbor
  • S.D. Hintz


    • Jack yanked up his collar and headed for the path. His eyes fixed on the Skelt house. It was a three-story eyesore. The bluestone was crumbled and had faded to a dismal gray. The foundation was in similar disrepair, surrounded by detritus and curled shingles. The wood mullions on the cracked windows had buckled inward, and the black shutters banged in the breeze.

    Jack stared at the second story window. The day's date flashed in his brain. It was August nineteenth. Blue would undoubtedly suggest a midnight stakeout in hopes of spotting Lester's ghost with a noose in hand. Mack, of course, would opt to catch up on his beauty sleep. He might even nail an extra board across his window.

    Jack bit back a grin as he entered the foggy forest. It had been a few months since he last traveled the shortcut. He usually stuck to the bikeways, but then again he usually had his bike.

    His eyes darted about his surroundings. The locusts-easily eighty feet tall-soughed and swayed, a symphony of raspy murmurs. He shivered.

    The forest folklore surfaced in his mind like a shark. He squinted at the windy path. The tale of dead pirates wandering the woods was ridiculous. Though he disbelieved it, he also was not about to stage an archaeological dig to prove its validity. Old Willard said that the woods were haunted, said he even once saw a legless corsair skewered on an anchor dangling from a branch. Just the fact that Passing Bell's dead were buried beneath his feet unnerved him.

    Jesus, it's just a legend. How old are you?

    A cold gust snatched the porkpie. He let it bounce on his neck, knowing it was useless to replace it only to have it blown off again. The reek of fish swarmed his head. He wondered if his dad was stalking him with a doggie bag of shrimp. Though Passing Bell was a harbor town, seafood never tinged the air.

    A branch slapped his face. He snapped it in half and whipped it into the brush.

    The wind died.

    A clacking sound echoed throughout the forest. Jack's mind latched onto the urban legend and identified it as an anchor being raised out of water.