Liars Truth



  Liars Truth

  Too Stupid To Live Series

  Copyright 2015 Dorian Scott Cole

  Published by Dorian Scott Cole

  ISBN: 9781310069215

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Disclaimer

  Images

  Part 1: Welcome to Hell - A Very Strange Journey

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Part 2: Honorable Death

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Part 3: Liars Truth

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The High Fantasy World of Hell

  About Dorian

  Other Books by Dorian

  Connect with Dorian

  Acknowledgements

  Grateful appreciation to my wife, Sheila, who sacrifices so that I can write, and who is my first beta reader and strictest critic. And to Rachel Talbot, https://www.facebook.com/rachel.talbot.12, for editing. And to a few in writers groups who critique and beta read some things for me.

  Disclaimer

  This is an original work of fiction. Any similarities to any person, living or dead in the 18th. Century to present, or any organization, or any other literary work, are strictly coincidental.

  Images

  Image of Franz Schmidt: wikipedia.org (Wikimedia Commons)

  Image of William Shakespeare: wikipedia.org (Wikimedia Commons)

  Cover: Cave picture from morguefile.com

  Cover text flames: static.pexels.com

  Cover: Original design by Dorian Scott Cole

  Cover: Original art by Dorian Scott Cole

  Jerry image: oc_character_demon_mask_by_nicoy-d32vzox.png, Microsoft Clipart

  "Persiphus" image, Mahratta soldier: By James Forbes - James Forbes' "Oriental Memoirs". Forbes (1749- 1819) https://www.bl.uk/onlinegallery/onlineex/apac/other/019xzz0000455c8u00046000.html, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=11967641

  Case 435 Tractor image: By Spars - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4180447

  Quotes: Many of the quotes were found on GoodReads.com

  Part 1: Welcome to Hell

  A Very Strange Journey

  Chapter 1

  Bon Voyage

  Fire and ash. The image of his Governor's mansion engulfed in flames that seemed to reach to space, was all John could see. Fire takes everything. He was lucky to get out alive. Everything he owned was gone. His wife, not so lucky. Badly burned, she lay in a coma, 3 months now, from which she might never recover. Life was crumbling around him, up in smoke. The fiery vision of his past home faded, replaced by his new one, cold, barren, under construction.

  "Can’t anyone ever stay on schedule?!" John screamed at his construction foreman. All he could see of his new house was an empty cement hole. Without a word, the foreman folded his plans and headed for his car.

  John chased after him like a hound on a fox. "You’re going to be building my house all winter. I’m the Governor of this State, and I can’t get anyone to do anything on time. How does this look!?" The foreman continued walking and John continued shouting. "I shoved a thousand in your pocket – that gets me this crap?! The house has to be ready for the campaign!"

  The foreman didn’t turn around. "It will be done in time," he said as he climbed into his pickup. He drove off, clearing the way for a dump truck to start backing in, while the steam rolled from John’s ears.

  John threw his hard hat on the ground and watched him leave. He wiped his palms, blue with ink from the house plans, on his jeans – his $100 jeans, and straightened the now ruffled collar on his blue pull-over shirt. Damned people promise you anything, and then when they have you hooked…. He looked around the construction site. He had a hole in the ground with cement walls. Three months, and that’s all he had. A kid with a toy crane and dump truck could have accomplished more. Would he ever get his life back?

  Six flaming arrows, apparently from six angry people who had never been caught, well placed around his home, had given the mansion no chance of survival. What would make them do this? He might never know the answer. Anger with politicians was high in the country. People expected too much.

  The dump truck began backing toward the excavation, backup beeper blaring. John’s cell phone rang. "John," he answered curtly. The voice on the other end was weak and broken up. John cursed under his breath, and tried to talk without his irritation showing, but failed. "I have to get somewhere quiet so I can hear. Hold on," he growled.

  John took one look at the truck. It was just sitting there, backup beeper blaring loudly. The driver's assistant walked back from the basement and began to wave the truck backward. The basement – it should be quiet down there. But how? He spotted a rickety ladder, and climbed down.

  "Sorry for the delay. What can I help you with?" The voice on the other end seemed confused and powerless. Pathetic. He listened. He finally figured out it was a nervous contractor that he was trying to shove a contract to, greasing a palm to get his own palm greased. How dead in the head were these people? "Look, I give you the job, you give me a ten percent kickback. Easy-peasy."

  The backup warning was getting louder. Couldn’t the guy just dump his load and go?! John climbed over piles of gravel to reach a corner of the basement. The truck stopped, but the motor noise still didn’t permit conversation. Exasperated, he swore and stepped out of the corner toward a quieter wall. "I don’t care about that other company!"

  The motor noise picked up again. John pressed his hand to his ear to shut out the noise. He stooped down to try and shut out more noise. "I’ll dump on his entire –" He felt a few stones hit his shoulder, and then darkness.

  QQQQQ

  John could see a light. Far off in the distance, a round circle of light. What happened? Had he been knocked unconscious? Was he in a hospital? He moved toward the light. He was walking? Nothing seemed right, but he felt peaceful. The circle of light grew larger.

  Mother! Was that her standing in an idyllic meadow? He knew it was. But she was dead. Five years ago, cancer. She smiled and opened her arms for him in a wide embrace.

  "Johnnnnnn!" His Mother exclaimed in delight. John ran into her open arms. His mother kissed him ecstatically. With unbounded delight, he hugged her, and basked in her embrace.

  "Mom! I’ve missed you so much," he said. The moment seemed to last for hours.

  "Everyone will be so glad to see you!" John held her hand and gazed at her.

  "Is everyone here?" he asked.

  "Why, yes. Even poor Uncle Al, who spent all that time in prison is here."

  This was wonderful news. "And even Uncle Ernie?"

  His Mother looked away, sadly. "That lying, cheating, womanizing Senator? We don’t know." John began to feel uneasy. He looked around nervously. "What is it, John?"

  If Uncle Ernie didn't make it, would he? Doubt flooded his face and his entire being. He began to shrink away from his Mother. Maybe…. He looked around and realized the surroundings were beginning to lose their luster and fade. He looked down at himself. He was dirty… filthy. His clothes were moth eaten, his hands looked old, yellow, and rotten. He looked around and saw
piles of barren rocks and dirt nearby. He angled toward them.

  "This is a place of unconditional love. You’re here! Come."

  "Mom, I just got dumped on by a gravel truck. I’m not feeling the love just now. I think I’ll just wait right over here until things cool off."

  His Mother faded away, arms still outstretched.