The Light Show by Joey Payne


Light Show

Joey Payne

A chill wind swept across the water as Ed adjusted his fishing poles. “Become a wildlife forensics specialist they said. It’s a cool sounding job title and you get out in the sun they said,” he grumbled as he crossed the small ship’s deck. “What they don’t tell you…” he continued talking to himself “…is that when there is a missing person on open water, the Wildlife Forensics expert has to fish up the local wild life and cut them open to see if you can find any people bits in them. And because that is so nasty, people think you are crazy and you start talking to yourself.” Making sure the last rod was secure, Ed shuffled into the wheelhouse to make some coffee.

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The Patch – Joey Payne

Josh screamed for help for hours. His throat was raw and broken. His mother had told him to never walk through the kudzu patch and always go around. But the sun was blazing and the quickest way to his grandmother’s house was through the kudzu patch.

CLICK HERE to head over to 13 Stories ‘Til Halloween and read Joey Payne’s The Patch!

Joey Payne The Patch small

The Supplement – Joey Payne


I’ve started a new workout regime. It’s going ok so far, and I figured I would keep a journal about it: Just some free weights right now and jogging a little. Lots of the muscle heads at the gym who call each other “brah” make fun of me.

August 18th 2015

Today was a good workout: No real improvement yet, but the girl behind the desk flirted with me. So all in all, I had a good time; although the muscle heads still made fun of me.

August 21st 2015

I had a bad workout day today. I pulled something in my shoulder and dropped the weights. One of the muscle heads actually came over to help. His name is Rip or some such—I don’t even know if it is his real name. But he helped me up and told me I was going about it all wrong. He handed me some pills, and I shook my head and told him no thanks. Drugs were never my thing. He handed them to me and explained with a “Nah Brah” that they were all natural supplements of some kind. I looked them up and, sure enough, they’re legit (though I’ve never known an honest man to have to use the term legit). The pills are sold legally by a company. I’m not sure if I want to try them. If I do, and you find me dead here, arrest the muscle heads.

August 25th 2015

WOW, I took those supplements and they are amazing. I take one in the morning and one before I work out and I’m in the zone. My buddies at the gym are real supportive and scream at me while I work out. The sound of them calling me weak is a jolt to the system and makes me push harder. I worked out today and I’m still not tired—even ran the 5 miles home and barely skipped a beat. Might go for a short run now—still pumped up.

September 3rd 2015

Started taking more of the supplements. I’m really seeing a difference. I was able to add BLOOD 5 more pounds to the weights with little problem. My brahs at the gym are even saying I need to slow down. But they DEVOUR are just jealous of these guns. Going to up the dose a bit over the next couple of weeks. I’m not really worried FLESH about the side effects, they just have to put that on there to cover their asses.

September 11th 2015

Nothing seems to help anymore. I went rock KILL climbing, parasailing, everything FEED I can think of to get a rush and nothing seems to help. The guys EAT FLESH at the gym say they are worried about me. They are just FLESH TO BE EATEN jealous of my awesomeness.

September 14th 2015

I’ve decided to kill someone. This is not some MUST KILL premeditated plot against any one person. If I’m being honest it’s MUST CONSUME FLESH always been on my bucket list and I’m jonesin’ for a new thrill. I’m thinking the girl behind the counter WHORE she likes me and I bet I could get her on a date. I hope anyone reading this later doesn’t KILL HER think me too insane for thinking this. Really TEETH IN FLESH the supplements are doing the driving. I’m just following where they lead me.

September 15th 2015

I did it. I killed her and it felt great, amazing KILL AGAIN even. Took a big handful of supplements before I did and it was such a rush. I got her to this isolated location WHORE and it got kind of hot and heavy, brah. Then, in the middle of everything I strangled her. She was into it in the beginning and then she was all DEVOUR choke and gasp. It’s like nothing that I EAT DEATH I ever felt before. Now this may be a little twisted but after it was done I looked at her hand. It was so dainty FLESH so pretty WHORE and had this little ring on the middle finger. I stared at it and before I realized what I was doing I leaned down and took a bite. It was hard to get loose at first but then I must have separated a knuckle because it came right off with a pop. I swallowed it DELICIOUS down without chewing, ring and all. It kind of freaked me out at first because it happened so fast KILL MORE. But then I just shrugged and thought, “Lady fingers” am I right?

September 17th 2015

Guys at the gym won’t hang out with me. They say I’ve lost it. There was lots of talk about what’s her name not showing up for work. I DEATH can’t pick the next victim from there. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention there is going to be another victim. You see, I’ve REAP decided that I’m going to kill again. It’s an imperative, honestly. Nothing else can fill the void, you see. Life without KILLING WHORES the supplements and the killing just isn’t worth living.

September 19th 2015

Oops I did it again. Twice more, actually, and it felt just as amazing. I’ll spare you the details, but one of ’em was so bloody it made the evening news. Let me DEATH TO ALL tell you, if you go the cannibal route, then knife is the way to go. I’m no doctor or nothing EAT THEM ALL but I was able to get that liver out of her pretty quick.

September something

I think I may have a problem, brah. I’ve been killing about one a week, sometimes two. I don’t think I want to but KILL THE WHORES the supplements always find a way to convince me. Every time I try to back out, the supplements push me and before I know it, I got some chicks’ kidney hanging out of my mouth. It’s the only thing that makes me feel whole, though. That last LIFE FEEDS DEATH little glimmer in their eyes as the light goes poof. It’s like a million fireworks going off as her soul clings to existence. It really is one of God’s miracles.


Not good brah, cops were here. They were askin a lot of KILL THEM questions about whets her name. I told em I didn’t know nothin brah. Hadn’t seen her WHORE in days. They left, but they might come back. Might have to EAT THEIR FLESH unleash the guns on em. Guys at the gym give me a wide berth now. I jump at ’em and they flinch and I call em wussies. I AM DEATH They ain’t callin’ me weak now. Oh as a reminder, I ate 2 more chicks and need to work out to get rid of the extra fat. Guess the quickest way to a guy’s heart IS through his stomach, am I right?


Cops at the door brah! I took out TEETH RIPPING FLESH one of em and got the others eye out and slammed the door. They are bangin’ hard brah. Must have dug up what’s her name. I knew I should have dug the hole deeper, brah. KILL THE COPS But I got a plan brah, gonna beat down the first fucker through the door and show them what I got. Ain’t takin I AM THE ANGEL OF DEATH me down town.

They. are through the door, theirs lots offgp5h


My kill the cops plan didn’t work so well, brah. They were wearin’ riot gear and shit. Damn militarized police. Got no idea what day or month it is. They put 9 slugs into me but couldn’t kill me. MUST FEED Takes more than that to kill the angel of death. Did take me a while to recover, though. Anywho, they are letting me finish MY BLOODY WORK this journal cause Im gonna tell em where couple of the bodies are. Damn cops are messin’ with my head though. Told ’em it wasn’t me, it was the supplements but when I showed ’em what I was taking one of the cops BASTARD laughed. Showed me a website VEINS IN MY TEETH that claimed they were just a basic placebo… had some Chinese plant in it that raised my blood pressure so I felt stronger. Was FINGERS IN VISCERA bogus of course. I mean, someone like me isn’t capable of murder without being on drugs. I’m a good guy, I give to charity and pay my taxes. I NEED TO KILL go to church most Sundays. Anyway not gonna be able to write anymore for a while brahs. They think Im gonna be locked DEVOUR THEIR CHILDEREN in here but I won’t be for long. And once I get out I’m gonna take a big handful of supplements and pay them a visit at their homes. Then KILL THE WORLD maybe I’ll swing by your place, brah.


Joey Payne enjoys writing post-apocalyptic novels and horror short stories. His first release, a book set in a grim future world, entitled Love and Radiation (Book 1 of his Radiation Tales series) was published in October of 2012 and is currently available via Amazon’s Kindle and Kindle App Store. The second in the Radiation Tales Series—Death and Radiation—is expected out sometime in 2013. His latest published work*, The Slow and The Dead, a horror short, appears in the 2012 13 Stories Till Halloween 2012 edition.

Joey is a Georgia boy and lives with his wife and children in his beloved home state. He also loves river boating, fishing and collecting antique firearms, which he shoots often to help him concentrate.

** editor’s note. Joey’s short story The Block appeared in the 2013 edition of 13 Stories ‘Til Halloween.

The Block – Joey Payne

The Block

Charlie poured his fifth glass of whiskey of the evening as he stared at his laptop screen, the blinking cursor a constant reminder that he wasn’t getting any further with his book. It had been so easy in the beginning, the words flowing onto the page like a grand dream.

“It was hack drivel,” his mind told him. “Your work sucks,” it added to drive the point home.

Clutching the glass of alcohol like it was his sanity, Charlie wiped his brow. “It’s not hack,” he said out loud. “It’s good!” he finished angrily.

His mind chuckled in a sarcastic tone sending waves of doubt through Charlie’s soul. With a click Charlie turned up the music he was listening to as he wrote. The repetitive techno beat sometimes helped him into a trance where the writing was easy. He also hoped it would drown out his damned voice. Downing the glass of whiskey Charlie slammed it down and put both hands on the keyboard.

His fingers began to move and the words came. Faster and faster the words appeared, one sentence then two. Charlie was half way into his third sentence when his mind cruelly cut off the flow. It was like turning off the water to a man in the desert and Charlie let out a groan of frustration. He could hear the dark laughter of his mind and see the whole story in his imagination behind it.

“You’re a joke,” his mind taunted. “Whatever made you think an uneducated red neck like you could write a book. How many have you ever even read?”

Charlie’s hands balled into fists on the keyboard and he slowly raised them to his forehead “Shut up,” he said tapping his fists against his forehead as if he could threaten the voice into silence. “It’s that damn homeless guy’s fault,” Charlie whispered.

Five days ago Charlie had seen a man slumped into an alley. Being a decent person Charlie had gone into the alley to check on the man. He remembered asking the guy if he was ok before seeing that he wasn’t. Several holes had been stabbed into the man’s head, the dried blood making it look like rubies in a crown. In his forehead was set an ice pick, the man’s own hand still on the handle. Charlie had called the police and done what he believed to be a good deed. But since then, every time he tried to write, he saw that dead homeless guy.

“Fuck em,” Charlie mumbled as he poured another glass of whiskey and downed it fast. Taking several deep breaths he put his hands back on his keyboard and stared at the screen. The voice roared with laughter as Charlie stared at the hated cursor blinking and blinking and blinking. “Shut up,” Charlie growled as he closed his eyes.

“Why?” his mind asked him still laughing “Don’t you see what a joke you are?”

“Shut up,” Charlie said again and started to tap his hand on his forehead in warning.

“You think I’m the only one going to be laughing once people try to choke down this piece of crap!” his mind screamed so loudly it made Charlie’s ears ring.

“Damn it to hell” Charlie said through gritted teeth as he brought his other fist up to join the first.

“You failed English in high school,” his mind pressed. “What kind of dumb ass fails English? You speak it!”

The sound of Charlie’s fists began to sound like a side of beef being beat. “I swear to God…” Charlie began but his mind cut him off.

“Such a pathetic little failure, you should just kill yourself!”

“Woah!” Charlie gasped as his eyes shot open. “Enough of that” he mumbled drunkenly as he pushed the bottle of whiskey to the far end of the table. Shaking his head and working his shoulders he reached up to close his laptop.

“What about your deadline?” the voice whispered. “You got six days and all you have is a steaming pile of shit.”

Charlie’s hand shook as he slowly sat back trying to fight the logic of his mind. If he missed his deadline he wouldn’t get paid, if he didn’t get paid he would be on the street. Charlie could feel his thoughts like a pressure on the back of his forehead.

“You think you’re going to get paid?” the pressure hissed. “They will throw it in your face before chapter one is finished.”

Charlie watched the cursor blink hypnotically. “Kill yourself… kill yourself… kill yourself,” it seemed to say as it blinked continuously. It was joined by the voice and his own self doubt, a constant never-ending cacophony of noise filling his every sense.

“Don’t test me,” Charlie warned himself as the din grew louder.

“Kill yourself… kill yourself… kill yourself,” they chanted more and more enthusiastically. The pressure on the back of his head grew to painful proportions as the voices chanted.

“I’ll show you…” Charlie affirmed loudly as he got up out of his chair.

With great purpose he stormed to his tool box and rummaged through it. Charlie threw tool after tool over his shoulder until, with a triumphant “Ah ha!” he pulled out his cordless drill.  The high-pitched engine whined to life as Charlie pressed down the trigger.

“Do it!” the voice spat.

“Oh I will,” Charlie retorted to himself.

“Be a man for once in your life,” the voice goaded him as the others chanted for his demise. “Save yourself and your family the shame of finding out what a failure you are…” his mind snarled, “you pussy!”

Charlie felt his doubts fade with that last stinging realization. With a great roar he shoved the tip of the drill against his skull. Though the sound of his skull cracking was like thunder in his ears, Charlie felt very little pain. He pushed the drill until it touched his brain, and Charlie’s eyes shot open for the last time.

As the blood flowed into his eyes Charlie could see his story taking shape inside his now rose-colored world. Every character, every sub plot, every nuance described perfectly with the touch of a genius. With quick, excited breaths Charlie saw it all, from the very beginning of his tale to the very last syllable.

“It’s beautiful,” Charlie whispered with awe before falling over dead.


            Doug sighed deeply as he began his night at the morgue. He hated the job but it was something to pay the bills until his screen play was finished. He pulled the blanket off the suicide case and scrunched up his face as he saw the drill bit sticking out of its forehead. Doug put his ear buds in and prepared to do the autopsy.

Instead of music, Doug listened to himself reading his screen play to help him keep focused on what was important. Pulling the drill bit out with the sound of a hand cracking an egg. Doug set it aside as he inspected the hole.

“Cause of death appears to be a drill bit to the frontal lobe,” Doug began into his recorder. With a gasp Doug pulled back, for just a second he thought he saw something move in the cranial hole. Composing himself once he saw nothing emerge, he continued his inspection.

As he focused on a part of his play he wasn’t sure of Doug heard a voice in his mind.

“What is this drivel?” his mind asked. “Is this some kind of joke?” it demanded of Doug.

Stopping his inspection, Doug thought for a second as the cold fingers of doubt climbed up his spine.


Joey Payne enjoys writing post-apocalyptic novels and horror short stories. His first release, a book set in a grim future world, entitled Love and Radiation (Book 1 of his Radiation Tales series) was published in October of 2012 and is currently available via Amazon’s Kindle and Kindle App Store. The second in the Radiation Tales Series—Death and Radiation—is expected out sometime in 2013. His latest published work, The Slow and The Dead, a horror short, appears in the 13 Stories Till Halloween 2012 edition.

Joey is a Georgia boy and lives with his wife and children in his beloved home state. He also loves river boating, fishing and collecting antique firearms, which he shoots often to help him concentrate.