JC Phelps

Mercy Hospital stood stoically on a knoll between Ponce de Leon and North Avenue, nestled among ancient magnolia trees, nearly as old as Atlanta itself. “Good Morning Kevin. Welcome to Mercy”, a matronly blond woman smiled as she extended her hand to shake. “I’m Diana, the Nursing Director. Pam had nothing but good things to say about you. I’m sorry I wasn’t available for your interview but I trust her judgement. Did you get everything moved from Seattle?” “I’ve learned over the years to

Mercy hospital holds a dark secret as a series of deaths begin...again. Shrouded under the veil of dead nuns that seem to appear as visions for those whose fate is about to be determined.

“Dammit”, Peters cursed, as he gave the ancient ham radio a few more cranks before throwing the radio mic against the wall. “This is useless, guess I might as well get comfortable,” he mumbled as he walked over to the cast iron stove in the corner. “There must be some firewood around here somewhere.” As Peters surveyed the light keepers house with his flashlight, he found a couple of oil lamps on one of the shelves. Lighting them and placing one on the table near the stove, he then took the othe

“Hey Sam, do you think you can raise the house lights a bit? I like seeing where my audience is”, Misty yelled out across the lounge. “Got it,” he called back. “How’s the sound?” “Well actually…” she began to reply. As the lights came up, she noticed a portly older man in a dark suit walking down the side aisle of the theater, followed by two police officers and another proceeding down the aisle of the other side. “Can I help you?” Misty yelled out nervously. “We are trying to reh

Thom, Michael, and Nathan collapsed through the front door at The Admirals Inn, closing their umbrellas and shaking the excess rain before placing them in a painted green clay vase at the door side. “Oh Thom, I’m glad you guys made it back before the storm hits,'' Carter commented. “You mean it hasn’t started?”, Michael sarcastically intercepted. “Oh this is nothing”, Carter replied. “The brunt of the storm is supposed to hit tonight after midnight, probably around high tide”. “Oh

Karla looked around the room as her eyes tried to clear away the fogginess and trying to figure out if she had any options for escape. “Agh, my head is killing me,'' she grumbled. “I feel like I’ve just been on a bender. Carter must have drugged the coffee”, she speculated. Officer Peters had left her tied in a chair and then secured to the iron railings at the base of the lighthouses’ curved staircase. On the wall across from the doorway she could make out one small window which faced the ocean

Misty awoke, lifting herself from the bed and looked around disoriented. She had passed out face down on the bed, leaving a smear of makeup on the pillow like an animated reproduction of the Turin shroud. Her wig hung off the top edge of a lampshade at the head of the bed and one shoe was flung across the room, the other remained on her foot, now looking like it was two sizes too small from her foot being so swollen. Her dress draped from one shoulder being torn in the back. “Shit”, she declared

Karla awoke and quietly got dressed, noticing Thom still asleep, curled up on the sofa in the corner of the room. “Poor guy musta been exhausted”, she surmised as she picked up the blanket Thom had knocked on the floor and gently placed it over his shoulders. She grabbed her phone from the bedside and seeing it was nearly dead, plugged it back into the charger. She then grabbed her watch and threw her coat across her arm, opening the door gingerly as to not awaken him. “I’ll just grab some coffe

A dusty blue 1963 Cadillac convertible turned into the driveway of the Magnolia House Resort, jutting over the curb and barely missing the large Vegas style neon sign in front, before stopping abruptly under the awning connecting the office and motel to the Bar and entertainment complex. “Damned, this place looked better in the brochures”, Misty thought as she surveyed her new surroundings. “Welcome to fucking Orlando, there’s not even a cabana boy here to get my luggage!”, she sputtered as she

Nathan and Michael arrived at the front entrance of the Provincetown police station just as their cargo had begun to regain some slight consciousness. He babbled words incoherently like a drunkard but was still far better off then had he been left in the ditch where they had found him. The two struggled for several minutes getting him out of the Jeep and up the stairs. “Are you sure we should have brought him here?”, Michael began. “With everything that’s been going on here? How do we explain sh

As flight 837 touched down on the runway at Logan Airport in Boston, Michael began to fumble through his carry on bag for his cellphone. He could barely wait until getting off the plane before beginning to dial. “Why does it take so long to park this damned thing and for everyone to get off it?” he grumbled impatiently as passengers ahead of him had now begun to crowd the aisle retrieving items from the overhead compartments. “This is exactly why I don’t fly coach”, he thought to himself. As soo

Thom slumped down in his chair as the police continued drilling him about his whereabouts for the last 24 hrs, how the business had done over the summer, and what his relationships had been with Johanna and Danny. “What does any of this have to do with anything?”, he bolted back at the younger officer now questioning him. Thom had long ago grown weary of the inquisition and was now losing his patience. Karla had now been dismissed from her interview and walked towards Thom with her back bolt str

As they neared the center of town, a large black-grey plume of smoke rose into the sky and hovered like a genie having been released from its lamp and awaiting orders from its new master. Thom immediately noticed that the back of the bar, where Johanna’s body had been found, was now fully engulfed in flames. “That must have been where the explosion was,'' he commented. The fire had begun to spread along the backside of the courtyard which connected to the Crown and Anchor, with the bitter w

Early the next morning, Steven was rudely awakened by a beating at his door. “Who the hell is it?”, Steven snapped, forgetting that he was still at work and it may be a customer, even though they had essentially closed down for the winter. “This is Detective Wallace, I need to ask you some more questions Mr. Haynes”, returned the gruff demanding voice. “Gimme a damned minute”, Steven barked back as he tried to compose himself. As he opened the door, he stood there rubbing his aching ne

In a small diner near Wellfleet, a few miles outside Provincetown, a handsome, well built man sat drinking coffee and chain smoking. “I need to close soon”, began the waitress. “Is there any place to stay around here?” the man asked. The storm had already taken out trees along the main road through the cape and he had to turn back just to even find this place open. Behind the counter a radio station interrupted mid song announcing a news alert, stating that police were situated along the ou