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
The Sentinels and Other Stories

The Sentinels and Other Stories

Spitzer, Wayne Kyle
Spitzer, Wayne Kyle

Paperback

Horror

ISBN13: 9798840163764
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: Jul 10 2022
Pages: 268
Weight: 0.87
Height: 0.61 Width: 6.00 Depth: 9.00
Language: English
From The Sentinels:

Dunn: There-there was a large glass case in the center of the foyer ... it ... it contained a miniature of the wind farm, as you know. And it-someone had written something on top of it. Some kind of a message. In blood.

Detective Shaw: I see. Thank you. Now tell me: what did this message say?

Dunn: It ... I don't remember exactly. It was mostly gibberish. Something about 'the Wind' and 'the Way, ' and going in to 'Them.' Something about how 'They' had attached themselves to the turbines-whatever 'They' were. And finally, just a long scrawl, followed by a warning, all in caps, GET OUT OF HERE AS FAST AS YOU CAN.

Detective Shaw: I see. And I guess it needs to be asked: Did you? Or did you continue to field the 911 operator's questions?

Dunn: No. I dropped the phone as fast as I could and ran out the side door, the one Bobby had gone out. And the first thing I saw was Bobby's pale-blue windbreaker, just thrown aside in the dirt, and further out, his T-shirt, white against the sage.

Detective Shaw: It's like he was burning up. Was it hot out? What was the temperature, you think?

Dunn: It was cold! No, like I said, it was if the clothes were suffocating him, cutting off his circulation. All I know it that when I reached the T-shirt I saw his belt further out, and beyond that, his shoes, just lying amidst the cheat-grass. That's when I knew something truly terrible had happened, was happening, and that if I didn't find him quickly, he might genuinely hurt himself; though I'd scarcely had the thought when I noticed someone crumpled face down in the sage-not Bobby, this man was fully dressed-and ran to him.

Detective Shaw: The other turbine technician.

Dunn: Oh, are we done with the ignorant act?

Detective Shaw: It was a slip; I'm starting to think about lunch. Okay, and, seeing this, what did you do?

Dunn: He wasn't breathing and so I rolled him over. And ...

Detective Shaw: Yes? And what?

Dunn: Jesus, gods, you know what!

Detective Shaw: What did you see when you rolled him over, Dr. Dunn?

Dunn: I saw that he had no face. That it ... that it had just spiraled in, like the hole in the boat. That there was a gaping funnel where his eyes and nose and upper lip should have been-mottled red and black, pink and gray-just twisted cartilage and brain tissue. And then his body spasmed, as though by a reflex, and the funnel seemed to burp, spitting up blood.

Detective Shaw: Jesus.

Dunn: After which, dear God, I can't say, because I was running away as fast as I could; past Bobby's shoes and toward the wind turbine (the one with the truck parked at its base), as well as past a few dozen new funnels in the ground-which grew in size as I approached from an inch or two across to ones the size of manhole covers. Until I came to the turbine and-and stopped dead in my tracks. Because there was Bobby kneeling prone in the dirt, like a Muslim, I suppose, or a Buddhist, but completely nude-bowing before the turbine, the hatch of which was open, seeming almost to pray.

Detective Shaw: But ... but all right, in spite of his behavior.

Dunn: No, Mr. Shaw, not 'all right.' Because when he sat up again, I saw that his back was ... It was riddled with those same spiral funnels. There were even some in his arms. But-but that wasn't all. Because, after he'd stood with some difficulty and turned to face me (he must have sensed my presence; that or saw my shadow), I realized something else. And that was that his eyes had gone completely white-rather they had rolled back in his skull enough so that only the whites were visible-at which moment he spoke and said, calmly, The turbines, don't look at them. They eat your eyes.

Also from

Spitzer, Wayne Kyle

View All

Also in

Horror

View All