~ Author's Introduction ~

~ Mark Twain Quotes - He was a smart and witty fellow ~

 o Most people are bothered by those passages of Scripture they do not understand, but the passages that bother me are those I do understand.

 o The proverb says that Providence protects children and idiots. This is really true. I know because I have tested it.

 o I never saw an author who was aware that there is any dimensional difference between a fact and a surmise.

 I resemble these quotes.

 INDEX

 Story 1: JUMP IF YOU LOVE ME – Taken from "BLOOD TRUST”

 Story 2: GROWING UP IN N'AWLINS – Comic Relief

 Story 3: ONE HELLISH NIGHT – Taken from “BLOOD TRUST”

 Story 4. A FISH TALE  – Taken from "Cayo Hueso – Island of Bones"

 Story 5: HIT MAN – Taken from “Vieux Carrè Pillow Strangler”

 Story 6: THE VIEUX CARRÉ POLYGAMIST – Taken from "Deader Than A Coffin Nail"

 Story 7: WHO CHILLED FREDDIE THE FREELOADER – Taken from “Cayo Hueso – Island of Bones”

 Story 8: MY WILD, WONDERFUL, RECKLESS TEEN YEARS AND FAMILY MEMOIRS – Youth Remembered – Taken from Walker Jackson’s life.

 Story 1: JUMP IF YOU LOVE ME

 Taken from "BLOOD TRUST”

Eight killing stories await you in this horror thriller. They are told at Chimerical Manor owned by Benson a gay and demented killer. And he's a haunter. To join the Blood Trust you have to be a cold-blooded murder. Eat your heart out Stephen King. Setting: Chimerical Manor - First meeting of Blood Trust.

 "Our next storyteller is Doctor Marilyn Clarendon. I think you will enjoy her deathly yarn. I certainly did when I read her application for membership. The stage is yours Doctor. Oh! Incidentally, I would have guessed you were a witch in view of your unique makeup and dress. Your imagination is marvelous Doctor. It might serve t shield you after we retire for the night."

 The flash of lightening through the windows announced arrival of the severe electric storms. The ten counts between the flashes and the thunder said the storm was only several miles away. Ferocious winds shook the belfry and the bells chimed fiercely, as if the hunchback of Notre Dame had attacked them. If that wasn't enough to unnerve the restless souls lurking in the shadows, the clocks chimed, clanged, and whistled the half-hour. Guests raised hands to their ears pressing closed the openings. Spite of Benson's offer of earplugs, the quests would be shocked once on the half-hour and each succeeding half-hour with clock noises that would become more and more repetitive. By eight in the morning, when breakfast would be served, the guests' sanity would've been thoroughly tested.

 Using her arms to push up from the chair, she sprang to her feet. Her muscular build had something to do with that. She had an acidulous manner, standing three inches short of six feet tall. Her feminine endowments were moderate. Her femininity didn't stir the libidos of anyone present, certainly not the Worshipful Master. The chalk dust she wore for facial powder, Mercurochrome she wore for lipstick, and dyed flaming red hair proved her eccentric nature. The spider net covering her startling dyed hair was gathered with a strange looking lavaliere near her forehead. She was every bizarre female character taken from a Knootz horror tale.

 "I'm proud to be the only woman to be honored with an invitation to join this gruesome and merciless group of cold blooded murderers." She had enough gall to accuse. She'd expected some show of defiance. No one emoted. Her accusation was too truthful.

 She continued in her squeaky bat like voice. "And it pleases me that one of our members is a voodoo priest. I've come very close to becoming a practitioner of voodoo. I do believe I have supernatural powers and clairvoyance. Maybe we can talk later Bokor Zabdiel Boyron." He nodded and smiled.

 "That's interesting Ms. Clarendon," spoke Benson knowingly. "Your so-called supernatural powers may be put to the test during the night."

 Somewhat curious and concerned she continued her voice timorous. "I think I understand the implications of your remark Worshipful Master. I sense restless spirits all around me. Well, I was twenty-five when I married Carl Jordan. He was a patient of mine. Carl had an identity crisis. At times he had feminine urges and at other times masculine feelings. And when he felt feminine he liked to dress in women's attire. He was handsome and blessed with an athletic body. I thought he looked rather silly when he'd come to his appointments dressed as a woman. Actually, he played all the sports in high school. I really thought he was a hunk. I mean who would ever think that Rock Hudson was gay.

 I worked with him once a week on the premise that he wanted to enhance his masculine feelings. Slowly, he began losing his feminine traits and stopped dressing in women's attire. Gradually, his looks and pleasant personality took me, and I accepted an offer to go to dinner with him. You might've noticed that I'm not a raving beauty and my romantic options I thought were limited. But I should have obeyed my woman's instinct that screamed, don't get involved with a patient. Well, we all make mistakes don't we?

 We dated for over a year. I am a weekend mountain climber, and I interested him in the sport. He fell in love with it. We spent many weekends enjoying the great outdoors and climbing. We had much in common. We danced, attended theater, dined at fine restaurants, and on and on, but I insisted that our relationship be chaste. However, our romance was sexy -- you know we kissed and petted -- but we never engaged in sexual intercourse. It was a colossal mistake. I should have tested the waters. Well, anyway, we finally married." She hesitated, wiped a tear from her eye, and continued viscerally. "I'll never forget the first night of our honeymoon. He prepared for the consummation of our vows in the bathroom. When he came to bed, I lay under a sheet denuded. The bed light was low but I noticed his breasts were over formed for a man. I'm going to spare you gentleman the prurient details." Sighs of disappointment echoed through the dining room. "Suffice it to say, my husband was impotent and suggested that we engage in lesbian sex…."

 "Impotent?" questioned Hank.

 "He couldn't produce an erection."

 'Hmmm!'

 "This came as a shock. I just looked at him dumbfounded, panting with passion. Then he told me that he was a hermaphrodite. Now, I was flabbergasted."

 "Doctor, what is a hermaphrodite?" asked Hank Page. Smiles on the others faces were unkind.

 "A person who has both male and female sex organs."

 Lightening was striking only seconds apart now and the resulting thunder came quicker and mightier, rattling the Manor's old windows.

 "Thank you, Doctor. Sho' sounds like a pretty nice problem to have," suggested Hank seriously. Those gathered guffawed.

 "Well, perhaps, but I found the situation repugnant. Actually, I was incensed. I got out of bed, dressed, packed, and left in a huff. I told him I never wanted to see him again. Poor man -- Hmmm -- Poor whatever. He just stood there looking perplexed. He'd hid his abnormality for our entire relationship. If I had known of his sexuality, I would have approached his case from an entirely different perspective. And I'd never gotten involved with him."

 "It's an interesting prologue," said Benson profoundly. "Now, our guests are champing at the bit to hear the bloody details of your -- hmm -- husband's demise. Speaking of blood, I see James Fry, my butler, approaching with refreshments. Doctor, I hope a short intermission won't be discombobulating. Your death story defies imagination -- most unusual. I wouldn't want an interruption to dampen your spirit and cheat the guests.

 James, the effigy of a cadaver in motion and somewhat mechanical, quietly circled the table placing tall gold-plated goblets near each member. He exited the scene as taciturnly as he'd appeared. No one had thought a thank you or any acknowledgement of him was appropriate due to the smugness his countenance projected. He was servant: just that. Well, perhaps.

"Before we drink this goblet of cheer that binds us to total secrecy, I wish to extend my appreciation to our recorder Mister Adrain Higgenbothem who provided the blood for this auspicious occasion. Fortunately for us, several reckless young people were killed driving around Hobgoblin earlier this week and were brought to his funeral parlor to be embalmed." Benson raised his goblet high in the air. The membership copied squeamishly. "I personally look forward to an extended and horrifying continuance of the Blood Trust." He lifted the goblet to his lips and drank heartily. The others mimed with less zeal. Some faces were puckered. Some gagged. They all drank: some slower than others.

 F-L-A-S-H!

 BRRROOOM!

 The room blackened. Discordant gongs from belfry bells accompanied the snapping sound of steel ripping apart. A window flung open and slammed against the wall. Panes of glass spattered to the floor and disintegrated. The sound of shattering glass pierced eardrums. "Please don't be alarmed." assured Benson calmly. "I believe lightening struck the belfry lightening rod. The lights are never off for more than fifteen seconds when the cause is from natural sources. I'll engage James to attend to the open window promptly when the lights come on again."

 The resulting solitude brought anxious moments. Five seconds passed. Members' hearts beat heavily. Ten seconds passed. Someone counted -- one, two -- Breathing became pronounced -- three -- louder -- four -- louder -- more intense. The lights flashed. A chorus of sighs ensued. Carrying tools, a trashcan and towels, as though he had been informed and summoned, James entered the room and headed straight to the open window. But no one seemed to fathom the significance of James' untimely appearance. Was it clairvoyance?

 Suddenly, a skeleton draped and hooded in a white sheet floated through the open window. It sifted through James and continued towards the dining table. He was unaffected. It was as if such happenings were common. The hollows of its eyes glowed like hot cinders. It whined, "Mon dieu -- Let me die -- Let my soul rest -- Mon dieu!" Its right hand held a blood stained book published more than a century ago.

 The guests were visibly disturbed. Everyone ducked as it circled the long table barely missing their heads chanting -- "set my spirit free." Approaching Benson, it lowered its flight and smothered Benson like a dense fog hovering over a New Orleans graveyard. "My friend, you're early. Please leave," instructed Benson politely. "You will be summoned in time."

 "My crypt is cold and lonely. The earthworms are hungry, bitter enemies. The carnivorous little devils have gnawed my bones clean. As you can see, there's no flesh left. Why don't they leave me alone? I find your colleagues interesting, Benson. I have written about pathetically sick people like them."

 "Yes I know. Now please leave. Your wait will be short."

 "Please summon me as soon as possible. Mon dieu!"

 "Try to get your act together, old man. We possess no powers to free your tormented soul: unless, by chance, the Bokor in our midst has some black magick up his sleeve."

 He obeyed and sifted through the dining room's closed entrance. The audience was petrified. Everyone wondered what additional horrors the night would bring.

 If they only knew!

 "Begging your pardon for the interruption Doctor Clarendon," spoke Benson humbly. "I believe everyone has finished refreshments. Please continue."

 "Thank you. Pray tell, Sir, who was that tormented ghost that entered through the window?"

 "You shall know in time.” He was curt. “Now, we're all piqued to hear the juicy details of your abnormal husband's demise. I must say the provocation was unique. I'm sure everyone feels sympathetic. And I see intrigue written on faces of those present."

 "I'm going to act out the ending. I'll play every part and try not to be histrionic. On the way to the car, black thoughts twirled in my cranium. His revelation and sexual desires devastated my happy world. How love could turn to sheer hate so quickly is beyond human comprehension. My mind seethed with revengeful thoughts. I couldn't allow myself to let him get away with this deep hurt I felt.

I turned around and returned to the room. He was sitting on the bed slumped over, his chin buried in his hands. He sobbed like a baby. I sat beside him and took his hand in mine. He looked at me sadly. I said, 'I'm sorry Carl. I acted irrationally. You should have told me. It would have been the right thing to do.'

 'I tried several times. I was afraid to risk it. I loved you too much. Without you, I'd rather be dead.'

 "I tried to relate, to feel some compassion for him. I couldn't. The shock had been too great. Now, I became a scheming femme. Revenge obsessed my entire being. 'I have no desire to participate in lesbian practices. I'll stay with you and work with you to bring out your masculinity. Then, when you feel capable, we'll consummate our vows.'

'Yes, that would please me. Then we'll live as we have? We'll continue doing the things we did before this happened?'

 'Yes. We'll climb the highest peaks, dance nights away, enjoy fine cuisine, and etceteras.'

 Well, he'd bought my deception. In the weeks that followed, I had several sessions with him on the couch. I used hypnosis to enforce his masculinity and suppress his femininity. Revenge was always at the forefront of my schemes. So, during his hypnotic trances I would continually suggest to him 'Do you love me?'

 'Yes, I love you.'

 'Jump if you love me.'

 He'd rise from the couch and jump as high as he could. Always he inched forward a trifle.

 'How much? Jump if you love me.'

He'd jump again.

 'This much.'

 After a month, he was obeying my command with alacrity. I figured the time was right: that my revenge was near. I invited friends, a young couple we often climbed with, to join us on the weekend to climb our favorite mountain, Pike's Peak, because the top is circled with steep and instant drop-offs. Actually, there's a spot at the top called Lover's Leap that offers a spectacular view of the surrounding forest 3,000 feet below. Carl would invariably go to this spot, stand as close as he could to the edge -- I think he liked living close to the edge -- and ten or fifteen minutes enjoying the breath taking view. Of course, I invited my friends to provide an eyewitness account of what I knew was inevitable. I didn't want any trouble with the police, and I wanted to collect his insurance.

 The day came. The mountain came. The top was reached. Our friends, slightly older than us, were tired, and they occupied a marble loveseat one of several provided by the park service. It was opposite Lover's Leap and out of hearing range. Carl and I strolled towards Lover's leap. I stopped five feet short. He continued and stopped only inches away from the edge. Excitedly, I said softly and sultrily. 'Do you love me?'

 'Yes, I love you.'

 'Jump if you love me.' I held my breath.

 He jumped. The end of his shoes touched the edge.

 'How much? Jump if you love me.'

 He jumped again. His knees bent. I thought he was gone, but he steadied himself.

 'How much? Jump if you love me.'

He jumped, fell forward, and yelled, 'This mucccchhhhhh.'

 I heard the yell for only seconds. Suddenly, I felt emptiness so strong, that it forced me to the edge. I was at the brink of jumping when I heard my lady friend's scream, 'Oh God! Oh! Dear God! Carl's fallen over the edge. Marilyn! Don't jump. Marilyn! Marilyn! For God sake, don't jump.'

 I backed away from the edge slowly. I trembled. My heart ached. My eyes filled with tears. He was lost forever.

 "Doctor," said Benson, "it's a poignant story. And it is without a doubt the most perfect crime I've ever heard of. One moot point. Did your husband have life insurance?"

 "Yes, he did, half of a million dollars."

 "Hmmm! And you collected?"

 "Yes, of course. I convinced the insurance company that Carl played his game of dare and jump, and he slipped. There was no reason to suspect differently."

 "You did say the policy was worth five hundred thousands dollars?" asked Benson, his eyes gleaming.

 "Yes, Worshipful Master."

 "How long ago was that, Doctor?"

 "Just last year." The greed in Benson's eyes had a vicious tinge now. 

 The redneck's chuckle pierced the still that followed. "That certainly was a fine consolation prize, Darling."

Benson's face turned pink. "Mister Page I appall your indecorous behavior." Page pulled a stupefied expression. "We don't mock members. Quite the contrary. We treat each other with respect. There'll be something extra for you later, a kind of penance," he warned brusquely.

 "I wasn't trying to be disrespectful to the lady, Sir," he replied meekly.

 "Well, if you say so. Now, let's give the Doctor a polite hand to show our appreciation for her masterful cunning."

 The short, unenthusiastic response smacked of envy.

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