Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley door pickup 10am - 7pm 3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611

  • Open Daily: 10am - 10pm
    Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm

    3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
    612-822-4611

Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
Lean Season: Contemporary Tales of Primordial Terror

Lean Season: Contemporary Tales of Primordial Terror

Spitzer, Wayne Kyle
Spitzer, Wayne Kyle

Paperback

Horror

ISBN13: 9798490616214
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: Oct 5 2021
Pages: 260
Weight: 0.78
Height: 0.55 Width: 6.00 Depth: 9.00
Language: English
Shut up, said Handlebar. He wiped his lip. Listen.

The floorboards were shifting beneath their feet.

Carl looked around. What is it?

Is it under the dock? said Ned.

Handlebar ignored them, listening. The planks of the pier flexed and fell like piano keys.

Lonny retreated still further. Maybe we should get back inside.

You gonna swim for it? said Stanley. We're cut off.

Lonny looked at the cedar pole laying across the deck, and the downed lines which popped and frizzled. His lower lip started to tremble.

Suddenly, starting at the apex of the dock, the floorboards jumped-rifling and breaking and splintering in a line. The men clambered off Chin, scattering as something split the dock up the middle, like a torpedo. Chin turned, saw a wave of busting boards rushing at him. He scrambled to his feet and dove out of the way, landed at the edge where he saw a dark shape sweep past just below the surface. A tail-long as the first creature's entire body.

Everything stopped, and there was a silence.

Stay alert, shouted Chin. He scrambled away from the edge. It hasn't gone. It's still under the dock.

Everyone looked at each other as wood creaked and water lapped. Even Handlebar seemed frightened and disheveled.

Screw this shit, man, said Lonny. He backed toward the cafe, toward the spitting electrical cables. His eyes were bugged out and his flesh had gone white as bird shit. He dropped his rifle.

Handlebar stared at his own boots, which were soaked in blood. He seemed to be having some sort of internal crisis. He reached up with a trembling hand and twisted his mustache repeatedly. He came out of it suddenly and looked at Lonny.

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