Dreadful Beginnings

{A Penny Dreadful Novella} By Marty Shaw

Chapter 1
I slammed down the phone, snatched off the headset, and threw it on the desk. I didnt know who dreamed up the job of calling people and getting yelled at by them, but whoever it was needed to be popped upside the head. I grabbed my backpack and headed to the boss office, pounded on the door, waited, and pounded some more. Decided she might not have heard me and walked in anyway. Mrs. Henry, I appreciate you giving me this opportunity but I dont think getting griped at for trying to sell magazine subscriptions is my thing. Thanks for letting me give it a try. It looked like she wanted to say something but I was pretty sure I didnt want to hear it. I spun on my heel and walked out. Penny! What? Wait a minute. I was already picturing myself at the mall, relaxing with a nice, tall cappucinno, when Mrs. Henry called my name again. I looked at the front door. It was only a few feet away. I sighed. It wasnt Mrs. Henrys fault the job sucked, and she did give me a chance. I turned towards her, temporarily shelving the cappucinno idea. Penny. Please. Come back to my office and talk to me. I sighed again. This was not going to be fun but like Mom constantly reminded me, nobody promised that being an adult would be fun. I wondered if it was too late to go back and fail the senior year so I could stay in school for just a little while longer. Figured that ship had sailed since the school year was over and my diploma was well, I didnt know where the little piece of paper in the cardboard folder was, but figured it was a safe bet that Mom had already stashed it in a keepsake box or something. I followed my former employer into her office and dropped into the chair across from her desk. She sat down, straightened a few papers, and looked at me. Penny. I know telemarketing isnt the most fun job around but its a job. The fourth one youve had in a month, according to your mother. She smiled at me. Sometimes it takes a while to find your niche. Maybe you just need to give it some time. Give it some time? Holy crap! Id already given the lousy job three days. Okay, two and half since it wasnt even lunch time yet. I sighed again.

Mrs. Henry, I really do appreciate the chance to work for you, but this isnt my thing. She laughed, but not in a mean way. Penny, you just graduated. Theres no way on Earth you can even know what your, she made air-quotes, thing is. For the life of me, I couldnt figure out why people did air-quotes. It most definitely was not a cool thing to do. I might not know what my thing is, but I do know what it isnt. I waved my arm around her office. This isnt my thing. It was Mrs. Henrys turn to sigh now. Penny, I cant make you work here. She leaned forward, as if she was getting ready to share a secret. To be honest, I only hired you because your mother asked me to. Shes such a sweet woman. She looked me up and down, taking in my pink-streaked brown hair, black t-shirt, and black jeans. Her personal assessment of me concluded with a distasteful frown aimed at my pink tennis shoes. The look said it all. How in the world did sweet and proper Marcia Dire end up with a daughter like me? Sweet and proper definitely werent adjectives anyone tossed in my direction. She glanced back at my hair, then looked me in the eye. Youre not a child anymore, Penny. Its time to put away those weird hobbies and start treating life like a serious business. I stood up. My hobbies, made air quotes just for the heck of it, are serious business to me. I waived my arm around the office again. This is weird and its lame. Im outta here. This time, I made it to the door without anyone being in hot pursuit. Cappucinno, here I come.

Chapter 2
The super-large cappucinno did a lot to calm my nerves as I sat back in the uncomfortable metal chair in the malls food court, enjoying a bit of people-watching. My phone buzzed. Mom was calling. No surprise there. I figured her pal, Mrs. Henry, had called before I made it to the mall. Sounded like a job for voicemail to handle. Another buzz revealed a text message from Brandi. Her and Sue were still at work so couldnt meet up until later. This whole work-and-responsibility thing sucked. Lunch-time action was dying down. I guess everyone else had jobs to get back to. I dumped my empty cup in the trash and followed the 9-to-5 automatons. Was that really the future that awaited me? The thought was too

depressing so I shoved it away and headed to the one place that always made me happy. Along the way, Mom left another voicemail and even sent a text. Whoa! Mom ventured into the brave world of texting, a sure sign that she really had a lot to say, which was a sure sign I didnt want to talk to her right now. I didnt even know Mom knew how to text. The bus stopped a couple of blocks from my special place so I walked the rest of the way, breathing a sigh of relief when I walked through the metal gates. The cemetery lacked that special ambiance it possessed during the night but it was my home away from home, regardless of the time. I made my way through the newer section and crossed into the original cemetery. Nothing against the recently deceased but nothing beat the old headstones and statues for true artistic style. I wandered through the maze of ancient statues and Gothic-looking mausoleums, making mental notes of certain ones I wanted to photograph or do charcoal rubbings of. One ancient stone looked especially photogenic, but looks could be deceiving. I had used up a whole memory card on this ancient rock, trying all kind of different filters and lighting angles. In real life, the tombstone called out to me and made my skin tingle whenever I was close to it. But it was just a dumb slab of granite in the photos. For some reason, I couldnt capture its essence on film. I knelt down and brushed away some of the grime, feeling the familiar electric tingle on my hand when I made contact with the stone. Maybe a charcoal rubbing or possibly even a foil casting was needed to really capture the spirit of the piece. My fingers traced intricate lines that formed a knight holding a shield up against a dragon breathing fire, while I wondered again at the meaning of the words etched along the top of the tombstone. In tutaminis obviam obscurum. A quick Google search had taught me the words meant In defense against the darkness, but who would put that on a gravestone? Why no loving father or loving husband inscription? I rested my head against the cool stone. Who were you? Id probably never know who called this little patch of dirt their final home. While the carved image looked almost new, the name itself had been completely lost. It was almost as if the elements themselves had tried to erase the mans identity. How did I know it was a man if the name was gone? Well, there was no way to know for sure but it just felt right to think of the graves occupant as a guy. I had been visiting this particular stone for months and the idea of it being a woman just seemed wrong. Maybe it was the design on the stone. I couldnt picture a woman, or a womans family, going for the knight versus dragon motif, although I thought it would be awesome to have something like this on my headstone when the time came.

I turned to look through my backpack to see if I might have what I needed to try a charcoal sketch of the image when something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I wasnt sure I had seen what I thought I saw, and I didnt want to give up the element of surprise if my suspicion was right. I turned slightly, casually looking over my shoulder. The guy was there again. I didnt know who he was but he had been spying on me for weeks, and Id finally had enough. I got to my feet and took off in a run towards the tree he was trying to hide behind. It was easy to tell that it was definitely the same guy because Id never seen anyone else wear a crazy hat like his. I searched online for it after the third time I caught the guy hanging around and learned it was called a derby or bowler. I also learned it was considered the height of fashion way back in the 30s so this guy was way out of touch with current trends. I started to get a little concerned when I realized he wasnt running away. What the heck would I do if this crackpot pulled out a knife? Or a gun? He stepped out from behind the tree with a shocked look on his face, raised something and pointed it at me. Crap! He did have a gun. No. Wait. It was a cane. I didnt have much time to worry about what he might be planning to do with a cane because a flurry of leaves exploded around me. It was like being caught in the middle of a little leaf tornado, with them spinning through the air so violently that I wondered what kind of damage all those tiny jagged edges could do to my face. I started swatting them away, squinting my eyes so I wouldnt have a really stupid story to tell the eye doctor about having my eye poked out by leaves that didnt have the good sense to stay where they had fallen. Fortunately, my little emerald peepers were guaranteed to see at least another day because the weird leaf storm ended after a few minutes, with all the leaves floating gently back to the ground. The guy with the cane and the funny hat was gone. I retrieved my backpack and headed home, alternating between wondering about my strange peeping tom and dreading the upcoming conversation with my mother. My phone buzzed. Hallelujah! Brandi and Sue were off work, and that meant Mom could be put off a little while longer. It was time to hang with my girls and grab another cappucinno. I deserved it after my brief but fierce battle with Mother Nature. ###

About the Author

Marty Shaw is an author of supernatural fiction specializing in short stories, novellas, and novelettes,

offering up bite-sized pieces of adventure that can be enjoyed in one sitting. You can find out what hes up to by visiting him at www.itsjustmarty.blogspot.com or stop by and chat with him on Twitter @ItsJustMarty.

Other Titles by Marty

Dreadful Beginnings (A Penny Dreadful Novella) There are things out there. Dark and scary things that will kill you in strange and terrible ways. They live in shadows and feast on blood. They dont belong in our world, but theyre here. You dont have to freak out, though, because theres this guy out there too. He calls himself Doctor Horror and he fights those bad things, but he needs help in his fight against the darkness. Lucky for him, Im the right girl for the job. When you think of home, you probably think of chilling out in front of the TV or hanging with friends on the latest social media hotspot. What you probably dont think about are killer hairdryers and murderous stuffed bunnies that want to make sure you dont wake up from your blissful slumber. These are the kinds of things that might happen when you accidentally release a demon while playing witch. Hey! Dont look at me that way. My friend was doing the spellcasting. I was just there. Demon-killing isnt something I considered as an actual profession until a guy named Doctor Horror showed up and asked for my help in dealing with this supernatural pest. Once I got over his strange name, it seemed like a pretty good deal. Killing demons definitely sounded better than telemarketing. Ugh! More importantly, this thing was trying to kill me and my friends and that just doesnt work for me. Now, armed with Docs little suitcase of goodies and a special bracelet that has a mind of its own, Im going to show this demon why he wouldve been better off staying in Hell. Dreadful Beginnings is a novella with approximately 19,200 words. Little Demons Greed is a sin with no salvation; a hole that cant be filled, no matter how much shit you dump into it. The only cure for greed is death. Farmer Crowley

A day that starts with a car theft gone wrong only gets worse as a police chase leads Frank straight to Hale, where a mysterious farmer named Crowley and his sensual daughter, Lilly, introduce him to a twisted world where sins, our little demons, have real teeth that can tear and maim. In this little town that exists on the borders of reality, Frank will be faced with a decision that puts the fate of his soul in the balance, but is salvation truly possible when the enemy youre facing is the devil himself? Little Demons, a novelette of approximately 12,800 words, contains scenes that include sexual situations and strong language.

Coming Soon
Griffin will be back soon for another confrontation with Marinette in Zombie Hunter, and Penny Dreadful is learning that demons arent the only challenge when it comes to demon-hunting, because sometimes your own morals can get in the way too. Can Doctor Horror help her see the light or will New Orleans forever be plagued by the Dreadful Inquiry?