Russ Thompson
Bio
Greetings readers and writers! Writing is a passion of mine. I'm a published author that specializes in paranormal/horror/mystery short stories and YA novels!
Stories (2)
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The Realm of Darkness
Carl Atwood prided himself for running the one and only dark ride, The Realm of Darkness at The Chapel River Fun Park. The park itself had just recently celebrated its fiftieth anniversary, making it one of the only ma and pop amusement parks still around in the south or the whole country for that matter. Carl took pride in maintaining and improving the Realm of Darkness over the years since he started working there in the summer of seventy-four in the midst of the Watergate Scandal. He had the calloused, wrinkled hands and the shriveled, grey-stubbled face sunken beneath his drooping brown eyes to prove his devotion to its maintenance. The ride itself was celebrated on many websites as one of the only gravity-powered dark rides still operating in the country other than the Devil’s Den in Pennsylvania and the Haunted House in West Virginia. Carl always took pride in telling the guests that the Realm was the fastest of the three, taking riders through two and a half stories of twists and dips through the pitch black, sounding like he was in a commercial to promote the park.
By Russ Thompson4 years ago in Horror
The Beneficiary
Ethan Denison awoke early, tossed the faded quilt off of him, and gazed out of the window. His room was small and cozy, with walls of knotty pine and an antique chest of drawers. It was his favorite room to stay in when he visited Grandpa’s rustic house on Bear Lake. He watched the sunrise, as he had done many times before. The light reflected on the water, illuminating the sky. In the past, it would fill him with excitement over the prospect of another day of fishing or hiking with his grandfather. This time it filled him with sadness, serving as a reminder that his Grandpa had passed away in his sleep one week previously. Even though Grandpa’s death was as peaceful as anyone could have hoped, it didn’t soothe the grief that Ethan felt in the pit of his chest. Memories of Grandpa flashed through his mind as he watched the water lap on the shore. He would come up here as much as his parents would allow it, which was at least twice a month. Ethan smiled, thinking of the many times that he had knocked on the thick mahogany front door, anxiously waiting for Grandpa to let him in. "Hello, my boy!", he'd always say, coupled with an enveloping hug. Grandpa's greeting echoed in Ethan's mind as he wiped away tears swelling in his eyes.
By Russ Thompson4 years ago in Fiction
