Welcome to the third chapter of Stormie! A 16+ horror book that will leave you shivering in the cold and that will (sorry for my French) fuck you up mentally! A book where an age restriction is pointless!
We’ve only just begun with this legend, a legend full of death pain, and misery! But like so many with a long build-up, a build-up for maybe 4, 5, or 6 chapters or something…
This isn’t a legend for the faint of heart or the weak! cause shit is about to get real! Just wait a little longer. For the people who’ve read the entire thing from the start THANK YOU ALL!
Well, let’s get started at the third chapter!
I can only hope you enjoy it reading as much as I did writing this thing of damnation… Signed in pain and bound in misery an unknown Horror author B.J Starink…
Copyright © 2021 - BJ Starink
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, companies, places, events, locale settings and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictional way. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopier, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by: BJ Starink
When is she coming?
The day got off to a slow start but has blossomed into something beautiful. Something I didn’t expect… Something I never thought possible after that nightmare. Not after the hell tonight. But my thoughts become happy again and my smile starts to show again. Something that appears to have been gone for a long time. Something hidden behind a lot of anger and hatred. A normal smile for most but hope for me. When I think of her that cat, I have to learn everything. I am not normal; I want to be normal just like everyone else! I carry everyone’s burden on my shoulders and it kills me but we keep walking. If there are problems, I solve them, if there is a fight I will always be chosen. If a head has to roll, I am the cleaver. When will my head finally roll? When will it finally end? That cat can help me that’s why I am so fond of that animal. Now before I even have her. Those innocently provocative eyes of that beast are so wonderful, so beautiful and pure. Truly out of this world filled with blood drugs alcohol and anger. Something to cherish. And hopefully she is on my side, even though I know that she is going to turn her back on me, if I can only feel her love.. Everything and everyone always turn their back on me but I agree with them. I am not easy to deal with.
I am too angry and broken. My mother sits across from me and we smoke a cigarette together without saying a word to each other.
But we both know enough when we look at each other in sadness. This cat is not going to replace our dog, that is not allowed! Our sweetheart, who was unceremoniously poisoned because, because, because… Yes, why? Why did she suffer. I don’t wish it on anyone when their dog starts vomiting blood and doesn’t stop. If their dog no longer I can’t open the circle of no more remembering. the day-to-day things cannot do such as eating and drinking. But especially your dog can no longer eat the cookies, or do not feel like eating the treat. If that happens it will be too late. This cat is not going to replace her. She saved me and I will always remember her. The people I know are all that good-doers, one has previously been proven more judgmental than others.
If you don’t want to fight anymore don’t do it, if you can’t fight anymore stay calm.
And that’s only two of the twenty or more I heard a year. Some people have no choice, some people have to go on to ever bite the dust themselves. My mother smiles at me, a broken smile full of pain, her pain is clearly visible in her eyes.
It seems like she has banished all the lights. A murderer looks at me so cold and so depraved. She’s affected so much and I understand her. I nod my head and she take out her phone to ask for more pictures of Stormie.
The wait is long and the wait is lonely when she leaves again to be away from me. Her bag of vomit, her hell hound, her liar, her devil, her son. I bow my head and wave to her but it is already too late and she is gone. Soon things start to come to life in the room, and the house seems to be talking to me again. It talks about me being good for nothing and never will be. It talks about what a failure I am and don’t belong here and the house is right about that. Then the door slams shut upstairs and I know they are back. The old inhabitants of this tomb. They always come when she is not there. Not always, but very often. There is something dark in this house. Something from outside this world that scares you to death and can leave you shivering and kneeling begging for your mother in the back corner of the living room. What I think is not possible for me, the house does that with the greatest of ease. And if you think you’re done they go play with your sense of time so a minute takes an hour and a second ten minutes. Anything to destroy you. And with me they are already well on their way. My past catches up with me daily and when my past leaves me alone, they come into my dreams. I am the only one who regrets his life.
The rest goes on happily, but you break with regret. Only I am broken by myself. Because of my own mistakes, and I made many in my old days.
But I was blind to other roads. That’s what I tell myself I was blind to the other roads. That’s better than being hones against myself and say I had no choice. Although that is the truth and not a romanticized gossip that I tell myself. Always be honest with others and be able to ignore yourself, always be straightforward and be able to lie to yourself. Lying that you are indeed good, can’t forget the blood after some time but I have seen a lot of blood and she knows it. Sometimes I can still see it sticking to my hands. And I understand so well that she doesn’t want to be with me, I’ve become a sissy a sensitive sissy. One that makes everything just so cold and doesn’t dare to stop, afraid of the consequences, which my choices always bring. Afraid of being locked up in an asylum again, the worst hell that can exist. The worst feeling of powerlessness you can get. I’d rather be stuck in a cell, with a lot of noise around me the same as a quiet jail, and nothing but your thoughts around you.
I’d rather be hit on my head than be squashed again. I am afraid of the consequences that await me. And not just me but her too. Call me that sissy, but I ain’t fucking up your life because of my mistakes. I don’t want to and I won’t. So, let them scream here and they scream, I look for a button in myself to turn off my annoyances and continue my day calmly.
And I can turn everything off except my thoughts, there must be a button for that too, but I am looking too much I think, then you always overlook it. When the past wasn’t worth living and the future doesn’t allow life, you feel so damn alone.
I hear the door shut in the kitchen and she’s back home. Apparently, a lot has happened again looking at her eyes that spit fire like an unwell dragon. She starts telling and I hear the anger creep up. It also makes me angry when I hear that she has run into one of my old friends again. Another one, another dealing drug addict asking about me. Her hell dog, her puke bag , her pussy, that she’s blaming on me and this is my fault! I was blind to the other ways. She goes on and on and my anger creeps to a high place.
A place full of hate and a certain jealousy when she asks again why I couldn’t be like everyone else. I want to, but I am the black sheep and always have been. My eyes are now also starting to radiate anger and now I have to stay calm, the breaking point is almost there. Now I have to switch that switch and that is difficult for me, but I succeed just in time. I keep holding the anger, but not against her, she can’t do anything about it and she’s right I had to be like everyone else. Just another good doer! Then she gets a notification and I see her hatred melting down she has the photos of Stormie inside.
A cat in a box with her brothers and sisters at Mum’s on a newspaper. It looks like a mess but this cat is the only tabby one of us. The only one with this look in her eyes. This naughty look like she wants to say: I will destroy you! This cat is ours. But where is she now? It all takes a very long time now. She will be ours tomorrow, but can we wait another day? We need her now! Our salvation our sweetheart. We look at each other and the hatred is extinguished in both of us. The anger switch has been turned on for both of us . She comes first, our Stormie comes first!
Legend narrator Li.
Well after this introduction to the fight that a lot of people have against themselves, including B.J Starink himself, I start with the legend called Stormie, you thought we had already started, didn’t you? No dear people we weren’t. Only when Stormie comes in do you understand why he wants me to tell this legend and why in this way… The old legend narrator Bennie is not there this time, he had some problems with his vocal cords or who cares? But he asked me if I wanted to tell you this legend and I do.
Well, my name is Li and I hope to be able to tell you this legend well because a cat can see between life and death, the two worlds are small and there is a veil between them. But the cat or cat can look through the veil and protect you for evil spirits that you want to penetrate the house.
BJ’s house, for example. And more people with him. Yes, I see you thinking what is this again who is that woman? Well folks I am the legend narrator of this story and now let’s get into the legend of Stormie right?