After much ado (and a few delays)... your 2015 SKMB Halloween Story! Each day from today until Halloween, a new section will be added to this thread. Our authors gave this a lot of thought, so please let them know what you think (but only in the dedicated story comments thread).
We dedicate this story to Sharon C.
Hot Blood and Cold Silver
#1
Traveling I-90 through South Dakota presents a mind-numbing vista of rocks, sand, hitch-hiking insurance fixated geckos with tiny suitcases and wayward tumbleweeds. Take one of the many sideroads though, and voila--you've tumbled down the rabbit-hole into the Badlands of the Old West. Ghost towns litter the landscape like weatherworn reminders of lost dreams. Cold Silver, South Dakota isn't dead yet, but it's coughing up dust. This tiny spot was established as a mining town in the 1850's, when a homesteader digging support holes for a log cabin struck silver. Unfortunately, that vein played out in a matter of months, and those who chose to stay in the intervening years eke out a "life" on cattle ranching and tourism.
Cell-phone and camera clad Griswold's of all ages stream through Cold Silver, stopping in such quaintly monikered places as "Cookie's Chuckwagon", "Gunfighter's Leathergoods & Souvenirs" and "The Silverplate Bunkhouse". This town of some 1,500 and a half souls (the "half" being a retired circus performer "little person" by the name of Erwin) plays the Cowtown theme to the hilt. Yet, underneath this skin of crass commercialism, there is an ill-defined shadow that casts a pall over the year-round populace.
In the last few months, several head of cattle and even some outside pets have been found slaughtered, literally shredded, as if they'd been run through a woodchipper. Strange howling sounds have echoed about the washes, gullies and canyons on nights when the bone-white moon has peered down on this dot in the desert. Locals know it's not coyotes, because what few tracks have been found are far too large for the desert dogs.
To add to this mysterious carnage, today's edition of the local newspaper The Cold Silver Gazette--or as the locals call it, The Daily Disappointment--is blaring a headline that reads, "Are The Dead Now Walking?" It seems that the town's only funeral parlor, the unfortunately named Slabem Brothers Mortuary, is missing a body! The in-absentia dearly departed was a resident cow-puncher and historical re-enactor by the name of Dalton Hoyt, who according to the accompanying article was found dead of an apparent heart attack on the edge of Cold Silver two nights ago. The funeral home had the body ready for viewing, but just prior to calling hours observed something amiss: their "guest" appeared to have somehow up and left, perhaps for a sarsaparilla at Cookies Chuckwagon. The County Sheriff and regional CSI team are on hand, but so far have come up with nothing but what appear to be some rough dog hairs found on the casket's silk liner.
My name is Lou Garou, and this is my story.
(Author: GNTLGNT )
We dedicate this story to Sharon C.
Hot Blood and Cold Silver
#1
Traveling I-90 through South Dakota presents a mind-numbing vista of rocks, sand, hitch-hiking insurance fixated geckos with tiny suitcases and wayward tumbleweeds. Take one of the many sideroads though, and voila--you've tumbled down the rabbit-hole into the Badlands of the Old West. Ghost towns litter the landscape like weatherworn reminders of lost dreams. Cold Silver, South Dakota isn't dead yet, but it's coughing up dust. This tiny spot was established as a mining town in the 1850's, when a homesteader digging support holes for a log cabin struck silver. Unfortunately, that vein played out in a matter of months, and those who chose to stay in the intervening years eke out a "life" on cattle ranching and tourism.
Cell-phone and camera clad Griswold's of all ages stream through Cold Silver, stopping in such quaintly monikered places as "Cookie's Chuckwagon", "Gunfighter's Leathergoods & Souvenirs" and "The Silverplate Bunkhouse". This town of some 1,500 and a half souls (the "half" being a retired circus performer "little person" by the name of Erwin) plays the Cowtown theme to the hilt. Yet, underneath this skin of crass commercialism, there is an ill-defined shadow that casts a pall over the year-round populace.
In the last few months, several head of cattle and even some outside pets have been found slaughtered, literally shredded, as if they'd been run through a woodchipper. Strange howling sounds have echoed about the washes, gullies and canyons on nights when the bone-white moon has peered down on this dot in the desert. Locals know it's not coyotes, because what few tracks have been found are far too large for the desert dogs.
To add to this mysterious carnage, today's edition of the local newspaper The Cold Silver Gazette--or as the locals call it, The Daily Disappointment--is blaring a headline that reads, "Are The Dead Now Walking?" It seems that the town's only funeral parlor, the unfortunately named Slabem Brothers Mortuary, is missing a body! The in-absentia dearly departed was a resident cow-puncher and historical re-enactor by the name of Dalton Hoyt, who according to the accompanying article was found dead of an apparent heart attack on the edge of Cold Silver two nights ago. The funeral home had the body ready for viewing, but just prior to calling hours observed something amiss: their "guest" appeared to have somehow up and left, perhaps for a sarsaparilla at Cookies Chuckwagon. The County Sheriff and regional CSI team are on hand, but so far have come up with nothing but what appear to be some rough dog hairs found on the casket's silk liner.
My name is Lou Garou, and this is my story.
(Author: GNTLGNT )