The Light in Snake Fuss, Horror Fiction, by Ron Koppelberger, Available at Amazon.com

Chasing The Storm

Ron Koppelberger

Chasing the Storm

In chase of the storm, in chase of the storm he was in that most absorbing moment, staring at the picture on the wall. It was a picture of a squall and a boat rocking in tall sea waves, the frame hung loose from the portrait and the painting was wrinkled in one corner revealing a dark cardboard backing. He took the nail gun from the tool chest he had brought into the living room and stared at it then the picture. He would fix the portrait, then it would be the perfect image, to chase the storm in perfect harmony with the dawn’s light he thought.
Things that foretell the morning-tide dawn and happenchance he thought as he approached the painting with the nail gun. “Pop, Pop, Pop…” went the gun as the tide swelled and the boat continued to rock on the giant sea waves. Riding the storm to islands unbidden he thought as he raised the gun again, “Pop, Pop, Pop,…” the gun went again.
A long crimson smear and the sneer of a madman, “Pop, Pop, Pop,…” went the nail gun into the soft flesh of his business partner. The portrait over his face and the painting just a wrinkled mess, must be perfect he thought as he primed the gun for another round of firing. The picture conformed to his partners face and the nails leaked long rusty red trails across the wall he was propped up against. “Pop, Pop, Pop,…” went the gun and the storm and the coming morning sunrise sang in degrees of insanity as he mumbled a curse and looked at his work.
Still the cardboard showed through along with the crimson gore of a newly fastened picture in hell. His partner had lied and cheated winning millions from the company and he had been left with nothing except this absurd little painting. He had removed the painting form the office wall where his partner worked, he had thought of the storm and the currents of hate he felt for the man when he formulated his plan of action. Riding the storm, how did that song go…”Riders on the storm, Riders on the storm, take a long holiday and let your children play, Riders on the storm!” Jim Morrison had it right. Ride the storm he thought as he Admired his work in the new dawn light of the living room.
The sun glowed a bright pink and orange through the spotless window glass and the lace curtains, almost evanescent in its strength. The light warmed him and gave him a healthy aura of exuberance as he worked through the morning on the portrait. In the end he would be caught and the irony was that the painting had been valuable worth over two million dollars at wholesale. The police had been shocked by the bloody mess, the scene of carnage and anger. When they tried to question him all he said was “In chase of the storm, DON”T YOU SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, IN CHASE OF THE STOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRM!”

Raven's Blood a book by Ron Koppelberger Available at Amazon.com!

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Leopard Collapses

Ron Koppelberger

Leopard Collapses

The Scarlet curtain was impenetrable and the mist availed nothing but the scent of sulfur. The surface of planet AngelLate otherwise known as 2876.1 was soft and yielding with the thick moss of a bidden plane. Hill Band moved through the crimson mist step by step looking for the downed probe. It had to be near, the homing device he held was going haywire almost as if he were on top of it.
He took a few more steps when he saw the leopard creature, it was baring it's teeth and breathing with great heaving gasps. Hill paused as a tremor of fear welled up from the tips of his boots. The Leopard thing moved a bit closer; it had large eyes almost giant eyes and a pair of fangs reminiscent of a saber tooth tiger. Hill reached for his pistol slowly so as not to alarm the creature when it suddenly stopped and collapsed. He stood there for a moment when he heard the low buzzing hum of a trumpet in the distance. Shadows played in the red mist and he turned to retrace his steps. The humming blare of, trumpets now, filled the silent horizon and Hill began to run as he heard the sound of what must have been hoof beats. Reaching the shelter of his landing craft he opened the access door and leapt inside. The door hissed shut behind him. He fell to his knees and thanked god, he had seen the hoard, the band of alien hunters and he knew that he had been lucky indeed. The labors of man and nature he thought as he prepared to leave, told by a moment.

Ron Koppelberger

Ron Koppelberger

Greetings

I have been poasting on this web site for over a year and I do not say much personally except with my poetry stories and artwork.   My Grandmother died yesterday at 7.00 P.M.,  she was in a lot of pain.  I take solace that she is with god now and happy.   Some might say that the forces of darkness have a monopoly on the sorrow we experience and that may be true but I know there is light at the end of the tunnel.
I ordered an advanced copy of Diablo 3 last week and it's due in today.  I guess that's like a task I'm not sure.......anyway the one thing my grandmother wanted was for me to suceed as a writer  she said you are going to be famous someday Ronnie with lots of books.  I have about 103 books with my stories in them and another 160 or 170 magazines with stories art and poetry in them and I am not famous yet.........nevertheless I know I will be because my grandmother was blessed with that kind of intuition....She will be missed and the bad guys have something extra to worry about now.  Anyway I hope you have a woderful day.

Ron Koppelberger