C. R. Lenard

 C. R. Lenard, a name of great respect and honor in my family though the original has long been gone. I continue to use the name to show respect to my great grandfather. The name is Calvin Ross Lenard, though the last name is now spelled Leonard instead of the original spelling of Lenard. Calvin Ross kept the original spelling until the day he died despite family arguments. I like to be creative in an unusual way. I like writing fiction and fantasy. Dark stories seem to grab the emotion of fear and captivate people, though I can and sometimes do write more brighter and soothing pieces. I have no real fame or fortune and doubt I will ever achieve fame, the fortune part I'm working on 12 hours a day at a regular full-time job. This makes writing difficult to say the least as aside from work I have other things to do like taking care of household chores, mowing the lawn, taking my wife out to dinner...you know, the usual "life stuff" that happens no matter how tired you are....

 Shivering violently and bleeding from head to toe. My bones ached and my ears rang. I managed to get to my knees just in time for my face to meet the bullies shoe. My head swung back and darkness took over. I found myself standing in nothingness, but I could feel my body move like never before. The speed and strength at which it tumbled was astonishing. I blinked and then the haze of sun caught in my eye, I could see the bully wobbling and about to fall. The look of surprise on his face when I felt my face smile at him. I didn’t know what had happened, but then I remembered the warning, “Don’t let the demon inside out.” The bully almost fell but my hand grabbed him, was it my hand? The claws were black and long and sharp, swiping at the other mans neck viscously. Blood splattered the ground and the hand let go of the bully, he fell to his fate.

 That bitter taste again. This guy is a pedophile of the worst kind praying upon the smallest children. My insides turn and moan like a bear growling. I’m watching him as he readies himself to make his move. I live for the hunt and being the creature of hell I am, I prey on filth like him. This will be the last child he sees before he meets the darkness and torture awaiting him. The unknowing mother steps away leaving the filth with her child. A small lad of about three, maybe four years. The bastard's hand reaches for the boy and he jerks it back quickly turning to the door. Words are exchanged between him and the woman as she passes the door. He reaches out again. My hunger to torture is overblown, my need to feed on prey outrageous, I cannot take it any longer. The bastard will not have this child. I flashed through the wall and into the room grabbed the soul of the man and wisped it with me as I left the place in only a split second. I stopped and turned to make the soul face t...

 "Not me, I swear." Everyone looked as I spoke, everyone but him. The bastard just kept facing the wall and never so much as glitched. Someone had thrown something that hit the middle-aged man right in his head. I wasn't getting the blame this time, or ever again.  "Whoever threw it will pay dearly," the man said, still facing the wall. I watched him as he turned slowly around and his eyes met mine. The entire room pointed at me. I was in trouble again for something I didn't do. "Mr. Saint Cloud, would you be so kind as to join me outside this room?" I hesitated at first, but knew it wouldn't do any good to try and fight back. The entire class had it in for me including Professor Hunts. "Yes sir," I mumbled and stood. I walked out and stepped to the side as usual, waiting for the professor to follow. I heard the awkward silence fall over the room when Professor Hunts opened the door and stepped out. Pulling the door closed he offered ...

 I’m just a P.I. and my cop friend is only trying to save me. The woman was found dead just outside my cabin on a crisp morning. Months we’ve tried to find the evidence of who was framing me, no luck. My phone rings and I pick up, “hello…Okay, the town center, bench by the fountain.” The short walk there gave me hope.  I saw him sitting there, his eyes met mine. He stood to greet me smiling. “Ben, here.” He said handing me an envelope. “The results of yesterday's DNA test.” “Thanks,” I took it and opened it. I smiled when I looked back at him.

 I stuck the key in the door and turned it. I felt sick as soon as I did, just like all the times before. The house is haunted, it's a haven for demonic beings. I was tired of fighting them, now I would just give in to Abadon and let fate run its course.  "Yes, come closer and let me feel the warmth of your soul." I walked over and stood in front of the massive demon. He reached out his clawed hand and took a swipe at my chest. Blood fell to the floor in puddles, and I dropped to my knees. "That's it, bow to me human." I have but one hope, that the stone of cane save me. I gripped it tightly and waited for my chance. Abadon leaned over and slowly dragged a claw across my wrist, the stone loosened but I held on. He leaned closer at a glimpse of it. Now is my chance, I raised with the force of heaven and earth, and with the stone in my hand hit the demon. He flung into the air and screamed a roaring cry as he was sucked into the ether by the power of the stone...

  Patrick leaned on his elbow and from a swollen eye watched the mirror. This demon cannot be allowed to enter this world. He picks himself up to his knees and with one broken, painful moan stands to his feet. He watched the black smoky substance ooze slowly from the frame of the mirror. Patrick was running out of time. He must stop this thing before it enters and is too powerful. Jagged teeth seemed to smile at him as the smoky substance began to form into a being. Patrick dragged the rusted iron sword across the concrete as he mustered the strength to raise it. Stumbling backward a couple of steps, he managed to get the heavy sword up, his blood running down the hilt and dropping to the concrete below. “Ye though I walk…” Patrick said winded, “…through the valley…” “You do not have the strength, mortal,” the growling voice of the demon said arrogantly. Patrick kept trying until he repeated the Psalm and felt a burst of energy flow through him. “It is too late mortal, I am through...