JD Gallegly
Bio
Scared & scary since the 80s. I purge real-life trauma and stress induced nightmares into stories. Although called creepy-ass and twisted because of my stories, I'm a soft-hearted, loving person in real life. Thank you for your support!
Stories (7)
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Steel & Bone
Casey’s eyes seemed to roll uncontrollably for a few seconds, and she closed them tightly before trying to focus them again. She rubbed them as if to wipe away the fog. As the room finally stopped spinning, she became aware of the roaring sound and intense vibration. Where am I? She asked herself rhetorically. Well, sort of. She recognized the unmistakable sound of a train racing down the tracks, but she had no idea where she was or how she got there. She anxiously massaged her throbbing temples in a desperate attempt to draw the memory from her brain. Nope. Nothing. Hell, she was so disoriented she wasn’t even sure of the time of day…or even the day for that matter. She took a deep cleansing breath and began to feel somewhat normal again. Glancing out the window, she saw nothing but the impenetrable darkness. It may as well have been a portal into the abyss. Well, at least she knew the time of day. Confusion flooded her mind as she wondered how she got there – and, more importantly, how the hell she was going to get home?
By JD Gallegly3 years ago in Horror
Scam
Back when the most known scam was the email from the Nigerian prince, scams used to be easy to identify. While some less savvy internet users fell prey to the ruse, most people saw it as a meme representing ridiculousness. Then scammers learned finesse, and they mixed it up. They plotted a myriad of ways to part innocents from their money. They profiled the dupes who readily gave their life savings. Old people. Baby boomers. Our grandparents and parents. Those self-assured, tough-as-nails people that once collectively saved the world. They were the perfect victims, overconfident in their ability to spot a charlatan and naïve to the dangers of new technologies. Melissa’s mother was a boomer. Just ignorant enough to fall for the shady assholes every damned time. Over and over, she’d tell her mother not to respond to any email or text soliciting help or offering a great investment opportunity. Over and over, sure she could recognize a criminal; her mom had taken the bait. Name a scam, her mother fell for it, until none of her savings was left.
By JD Gallegly3 years ago in Horror
Filth
Carolyn sat with a flat affect and stared out the window. She was so tired. She was tired of the never-ending anxiousness over everything around her. It was the mental equivalent of wearing a hot, scratchy sweater and never being able to scratch or take it off. She sighed deeply as if to breathe out a miniscule amount of her misery. It wasn’t always this way. Her world was perfect – like Mary Poppins perfect – “practically perfect in every way”. Her lips tightened to express her contempt for the world. Now everything was retched; her days stretched out in their banality, slowly chocking the very soul from her. She closed her eyes to transport herself to those blissful days of the past, back when Sam was still alive. Back before the house fell into disrepair and filth. Back when Tracie was still a small child and not a selfish, vapid adult. Carolyn properly cleaned the house every day back then. She’d wash her hands in the best way possible and then, using her red cloth, wipe each doorknob seven times in a clockwise direction. Her eyelids fluttered; just the memory gave her satisfaction and, for a few seconds, assuaged her discomfort. She continued her daydream. After doorknobs always came baseboards. If baseboards weren’t kept pristine, bugs might get into the house. Everyone knew those were access points. She shuddered in revulsion but quickly recovered. She’d had a specific cloth she only used for one task and her special tools, as she called them. She had a calming blue sponge that was her baseboard tool. She didn’t think anything could be as fulfilling as completing one’s comprehensive cleaning regimen. After Sam passed, Carolyn threw herself into various cleaning projects to help her cope with the loss. For a time, she was – well, not happy – content. She was content, neither happy nor unhappy. Then that fateful night out changed everything and plunged her into purgatory. It was the dog days of summer, and bugs were particularly bad that year. Carolyn had stayed out unusually late as she perused the isle of cleaning goods at Walmart. The barrage of insects splatting on the windshield drove her to distraction. She tried to use the wipers and fluid to clear the nasty goo from the windshield. When that didn’t work to her liking, she decided to pull over and use some of the many cleaning items she’d just purchased. She’d not cleared the lane completely in her haste to pull over. The eighteen-wheeler that crested the hill didn’t have time to avoid the back quarter of her vehicle where it blocked the road. If she would have been unbuckled already, there’s no doubt it would have killed her. The truck hit her car, and it was catapulted in an arc and into a nearby tree. She suffered numerous cuts and bruises, broke her leg in two places, fractured three ribs, and had burst fractures in her C7, L1, and L2 vertebrae. The fracture in C7 had compressed her spinal cord. The fractures in L1 and L2 were utterly devastating, shearing her spinal cord, and rendering her paralyzed. It took multiple surgeries and countless therapies over two years to get to her current functionality. Wholly dependent on her useless daughter. Her doctors had often stressed how imperative it was to have in-home care: a sitter, physical therapist, occupational therapist, etc. She adamantly refused against all medical advice. She damned sure didn’t want anyone to come in and mess up her house! The sound of the front door wrenched her back to the present as she heard Tracie return from the grocery store. She wanted to call out but realized Tracie wouldn’t hear her as she always had those blasted things in her ears. As she’d done millions of times, Carolyn looked down at her immobile legs. She angrily sneered at them. Carolyn continued waiting for her daughter to come to receive instructions that she undoubtedly would fail to follow, causing Carolyn more misery.
By JD Gallegly4 years ago in Horror
Burnout
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Emily stared at the flame for a moment, then went to relax on the old sofa. She’d needed this getaway more than anyone could know. When her friend Laura had mentioned her uncle’s estate was selling the property for a steal, Emily jumped at it. Her own personal retreat was just what she needed! She hadn’t had a vacation in as long as she could remember. Oh, she used her vacation hours, but there was never any real vacation. Those hours were spent running errands or taking care of someone else’s needs, never hers. She felt her eyes glisten and clenched her jaw. This isn’t a pity party trip; this is for me to relax and unwind, she thought angrily. It felt like she was always angry these days. She could scarce remember a day when she wasn’t pissed at something or someone. It’d been years since she felt lighthearted, had energy or hadn’t walked around in a perpetual state of weariness. She’d worked as low-level management for a large health system for almost a decade. During that decade the all-consuming needs of everyone and everything around her had crushed the heart and soul right out of her. She’d quipped many times over the years that she felt like she’d been told to “make bricks without straw,” referencing the Bible verse in which overworked enslaved people had their work made impossibly hard. She realized that was a ridiculous analogy and an insult to people who’d suffered through slavery, but she couldn’t think of any other way to express her frustration at the time. She made a good salary, and she was grateful for the style of living it afforded. It was the never-ending pressure and futileness of it all. On other rough days, she’d add an image of Sisyphus to her email signature, signifying that she too felt like the mythical man doomed to an eternity of pushing a boulder up a hill. She didn’t have a stereotypical high-stress job like a nurse or a doctor. Her stress came from the fact that there was never any respite from it. When funding cuts and downsizing hit the system, her team was cut in half. As the manager, she was the only person that was salary and the only option to absorb the extra operational hours needed to keep things going. Besides, she was the only one over her tiny department, and if anyone had any questions, she had to be available. Right on cue, the phone rang. It was another call from the hospital, another mundane question that could be easily investigated, yet staff always decided to call her. After all, she’d stressed so many times that she was happy to always be available. What was she supposed to say? I’m off work, please don’t call me? That sounded heavenly, but wasn’t practical for the survival of her department, and she feared any perception that she was unavailable would threaten her job security. There were too many people depending on her for her to take such a risk. She answered the question with a fake smile and feigned delight in being able to assist and hung up the phone. Instantaneously, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Then she heard it. The almost imperceptible whisper that urged her to shut it out. Shut it out. You can’t listen anymore. It’s too much. She wasn’t sure if it was all in her head or she’d actually heard an external sound. She’d developed tinnitus years ago, and the incessant ringing always increased with her stress-induced hypertension. No matter, she decided to enjoy a glass of wine and a good romance novel. She opened her favorite bottle of Malbec which waited ready on the coffee table then settled in for some self-care. The phone rang again, with a different staff person asking the exact same question. Just as she’d done a thousand times, she took care of the caller and hung up, feeling wearier than ever. The whisper returned, this time incessantly repeating it’s too much…
By JD Gallegly4 years ago in Horror
The Perfect Match
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Johnathan lit the other candle and blew out the match. Everything was going exactly as planned. Lydia was going to be so surprised! The little old cabin was a bit rustic, but it had everything he needed except a refrigerator, and vital to his weekend’s agenda – it was remote. It was imperative that there be no interruptions, not tonight. He glanced at his watch, ten minutes after eight. She’d be there any minute! To keep from pacing nervously, he performed a mental check to ensure he hadn’t missed anything. Tonight, had to go off without a hitch. Gourmet meal, check. Romantic candlelight, check. New Egyptian cotton sheets on the bed, check. Two bottles of Lydia’s favorite wine…ice chest…tr…Johnathan’s mental inventory was interrupted by the sound of tires on gravel. His pulse quickened as he quickly smoothed his freshly pressed blue button up, the one Lydia said made his eyes look bluer than the ocean. This was the night he’d been waiting for! Everything depended on tonight. Everything! There was no future for him without Lydia and he needed tonight to go his way. Jonathan took one deep breath to gather his courage and opened the door. Lydia had just gotten out of her Uber with her overnight bag and waved happily as she shouted from the driveway, “Hey Babe! You get tired of waiting?”
By JD Gallegly4 years ago in Horror
Useless Reckoning
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Martha gasped but didn’t hear herself. The instantaneous burst of adrenaline at the sight of the small flame had already quickened her pulse to a deafening drone. Fred glanced up from his crossword puzzle and he instinctively knew what her frozen, tense stance meant. Someone was there. Some poor unsuspecting soul had gone to the little cabin at the top of the hill. She hadn’t heard a car go by. When did they get there? Didn’t they see the posted warning signs? Martha shuddered as a sudden draft chilled her to her bones. Rising from his easy chair, Fred joined his wife at the window. Both remained silent as they gazed at the tiny flickering light. Finally, he squeezed Martha’s shoulders in resignation that both were powerless, and he returned to his chair. Afraid to look too long, Martha continued to the kitchen to put their dinner dishes in the sink. Uncharacteristically, she left the dishes unwashed and returned to her chair in the living room. Fred had returned to his crosswords, but his pencil lay on the TV tray and his weary stare seemed to gaze right through the paper. The sense of dread and sadness in the room was palpable. At first nobody believed anything was amiss. The terrible string of bizarre accidents was thought to be tragic coincidence. The first two deaths were a lovely couple on their honeymoon who drowned in the tiny pond at the back of the cabin. Then a small child fell into the fireplace. When the mother jumped to rescue the child, she hit her head on the mantle and sustained a fatal head injury. The father heard the commotion and ran into an unseen clothesline by the side of the cabin, lacerating his throat so severely he hemorrhaged to death in minutes. Then a young writer had come to the wilderness for inspiration. He was possibly going out to sit on the porch to enjoy the air when he tripped and pierced his right eye and brain with his pen. After the sixth death, Fred and Martha decided they must act. Because they were the only neighbors to the property, they felt responsible for the misfortune of those pitiful souls. Not daring to approach the cabin, they left the old fence and built a new electric fence, ten feet inside their property line. Because the road to the cabin ended just over the shared property line, Fred even illegally ran the fence right over the road. He didn’t want the fence to hurt anyone, just serve as a warning. They hung what seemed like a ridiculous amount of warning signs on the fence. Then everything fell silent. The distant screams of agony seemed but a nightmare. Fred’s brow furrowed deeply as he glanced up to the window. The fence across the road was electrified. How had someone gotten to the property? Even the local Sheriff knew what Fred had done and vowed to never return to the cabin and never talked about what he found. As far as they were concerned whatever evil remained there should be quarantined. It always started the same way. Someone looking forward to a getaway had arrived, overjoyed at the beauty of the surroundings. During daylight Fred and Martha had seen children playing, lovers embracing, families enjoying their reconnection with each other and nature. But at night…at night it always started with a passing glimpse of that damned candle. The cabin was old, really old. Nobody seemed to know when it was built there but there wasn’t an electric line feeding it and after dark inhabitants had to utilize fire for light. Fred had never been inside the cabin, so he didn’t know if it had oil lamps, but he knew that damned candle was always lit before the screams came and after they were silenced, the candle was extinguished. There was no doubt in their hearts that something there was evil. They had no idea what. A demon? An angry ghost? A curse from a witch? A burial ground? As far as Fred and Martha were concerned, the source of the evil didn’t matter. They didn’t care to even speculate because deep down they knew they were utterly powerless, and they knew the outcome would always be the same. Fred sat uneasily in his chair and anxiously listened. Martha couldn’t tolerate sitting and rose to pace the room.
By JD Gallegly4 years ago in Horror
Dad humor at its best
People’s core personality traits are revealed during stressful moments, especially during disastrous situations. My dad’s response to our family’s disaster has impacted me and so many others for a lifetime. My dad always had a great sense of humor. The most genuine person with the purest soul, he often was hilariously funny without intending to be. Sometimes, in his naive honesty, he’d say something so horribly awkward the resulting hilarity would be legend. Most of the time he was just blurting out what was on his mind and in his heart. The result was the positivity and lightheartedness of an innocent reaction to any given situation. It was the best part of my dad. Without his wonderful quirky responses to life, I wouldn’t be the person I am. I inherited his optimism and ability to seek out the joy in moments of stress and despair. His unfiltered honesty and unbridled enthusiasm endeared him to all – especially me, who he called his favorite daughter; of course, I’m also his only daughter.
By JD Gallegly4 years ago in Families
