NEW FICTION: Bourbon & Blondes has arrived!

From the bus stations of Rt. 66 to the smoky, neon-tinged jazz dives of the big cities, these wanton tales of longing introduce us to vixens on the fringe and those shifty men that drove them there.

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Watch: The 'Bourbon & Blondes' Book Trailer

Get your shot glass ready because you're about to enter a retro world of showgirls, drifters, barmaids and thieves.

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Watch: The 'Front Page Palooka' Book Trailer

Read the pulp novella that one reviewer called 'A potboiler in the style of old school writers like Mickey Spillane, Dashiell Hammett or Raymond Chandler...'

Friday, October 5, 2012

THE DOLL (#fridayflash)

Press play for some mood music

It was about two years ago when I found it buried within the walls of the attic as if it had been left behind by mistake. Looking back now, it had to be on purpose. Someone a lifetime ago wanted the doll gone and I let it out with one swing of a sledgehammer.

Don't get me wrong. The doll wasn't Chucky. At least that red headed little bastard had a sense of humor. Mine was just creepy. Odd things had a way of happening around the doll. Like the time the bookcase nearly crushed the puppy. Or when the fishbowl spilled near the outlet.

Or my heart attack.

I felt it's presence almost from the moment I would walk into the house. And call me crazy, but a few times I would swear that it changed outfits overnight. One afternoon about a year ago, I decided to toss it into a drum and burn it along with the autumn leaves. A cat howled in the distance. It was that little baby kind of howl that makes your skin itch with fear. But the doll was gone.

My friends all said I was nuts. Afraid of a little doll. If I had a family, I'm sure they'd say the same thing. But in my defense, the sun started shining again. My house felt nimble after a long dry spell. Eventually, I even finished the attic.

The first  mistake I made was not going to Ikea or some big box furniture outlet. I decided that antiques would finish the room better than that Swedish bullcrap wood. When I first saw the doll in the vintage shop, I went numb. Was this really happening and was I actually buying it? It was all kind of hazy after that.

I remember throwing it onto the front seat and fastening its seat belt as if she were alive. After that, I blasted my radio. The one thing I can recall was the smell of chicken from the Cluck-Amuck Chicken stand. I remember wanting some but the doll told me no. Maybe she was Chucky after all.

At least, that's the last thought I had before I hit that telephone pole.

Music: 'A Taunting Voice' by Død Beverte. It can be downloaded HERE