Let Me Introduce Myself

By: Brent Abell

I don’t know who this Brent Abell guy is. Here, let me introduce myself; I’m Frank Hill. I’ve been the sheriff here in White Creek for a few years and I like this little town of ours. Sure, I might have to bust up a fight out at Telly’s on a Friday night or pull over some of the kids for speeding out by Helfrich’s Hollow, but we are pretty peaceful for the most part.

At any given time, I might have a person or two in the cells at the station for public intoxication. Below the station is a small area in the basement where Nathaniel King acts as our coroner. He’s the town doctor, but I elected him to the post. Not because we needed one, but because I had to fill the position.
People think I’m lonely, I’ve heard. I guess because I live alone and haven’t been on a date in three years they think I’m lonely. Deputy Prater wants to set me up with his mom, but I think she’s a few years older than what I’m looking for. Well, if I were on the market. Since I became sheriff, I’ve been too focused on the town to date socially. I was elected to serve, not pursue a skirt.

Unlike most of the citizens of White Creek, I’m a transplant. A lot of the families here can trace their lineage back to the founders. It’s odd the reverence shown to the founders here. The four families who descended from them are like royalty. I’m a simple guy and I don’t get it. But, they liked me enough when I got here to hire me as a deputy and then elect me sheriff. After what went down I was going to… Nevermind, I’ll save that story for another time.
I’m about to spend another Thanksgiving alone with my TV and a bottle of whiskey. Hell, I might even allow myself a cigar or two. I like the John Wayne marathon they run on the local channel and spend all day glued to it. Unless Prater calls in for back-up or something else happens. I like the kid and treat him like a son, but sometimes he don’t listen. Well, sons don’t listen either, so it fits.

The local paper wanted me to write this, but I’m thinking she’s just digging for dirt on me. A few people don’t really like me and I haven’t figured out why yet. Enough of this crap for now; I’m headed out to meet Carl at Telly’s for a beer or four. So far, 1994 has been quiet and I hope it stays that way…

The CallingBrent Abell

Carl Volker has a problem. After waking one morning with a hangover to find his wife gone, he notices a crow stalking around his yard.  As days go by with no word from his wife, more and more crows gather.

Frank Hill is sheriff in the seemingly pleasant town of White Creek. Up until recently, his job has been fairly mundane but after a recent spree of murders, bodies are beginning to pile up and Frank has no clue as to who the killer may be.

White Creek has kept its secrets hidden well over the years but the sins of its past are coming to light; the town harbors an evil and the bindings that keep it in check are beginning to unravel.

As Frank and Carl’s friendship is tested and their destinies are revealed, the dead accumulate while the crows watch and The Calling begins!

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Brent Abell lives in Southern Indiana with his wife, sons, and a pug who sits around eating the souls of wayward people. His stories have been featured in over 30 publications from multiple presses. His work includes his novella In Memoriam, collection Wicked Tales for Wicked People, and novel Southern Devils; which are available now. He also co-authored the horror-comedy Hellmouth series. Currently, he is working on the second book in the Southern Devils series and the next book with Frank Hill in the White Creek Saga.


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Twitter: @BrentTAbell

Blog: https://brentabell.wordpress.com/

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