Barn Door to Hell - Deleted Scene

Hey, friends. I’m sorry it’s been a while. I was head-down finishing the first draft of Goddamn Graveyard Zombies, which meant I was neglecting everything outside of that book that wasn’t family or close friends. I’ve missed you all, though! I mean that sincerely.

I want to start posting here more often again, as doing so is good for my mental health. It’s a place where I can engage with my audience without feeling like I’m performing (looking at you, TikTok and Instagram). Since my activity here will increase, I won’t just be posting fiction. You’ll also get life updates, personal essays, and behind-the-scenes peeks at what I do.

Today, I’ve got a special treat for you. As many of you know, I released my book Barn Door to Hell around this time last year (only 5 signed copies left). It’s a book that’s near and dear to me because it’s pure B-movie funsies in book form. After some feedback from colleagues, I rewrote it from beginning to end after completing my first draft, and it’s stronger for it.

That said, the original version still has some scenes I love that didn’t make the final version. This is one of those scenes. Fair warning, though: this scene is about as R-rated as you can get. It’s got gore, sex, and bad language.

In other words, I’m sure you weirdoes will get a kick out of it.

Enjoy!

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Del stepped onto the buckled and cracked pavement of Cedar Hollow Road. The county was never gonna fix it in his lifetime. He had accepted that grim reality long ago, but it still made him grumble whenever he set foot on the cratered, gravelly mess. Not tonight, though. Tonight, he didn’t have the time to get bent out of shape over the glacial pace of government projects. His joints were aching. He wanted nothing more than to be back inside, resting on his couch with Yolanda’s head on his shoulder and reruns of Duck Dynasty on the television.

Instead, he was out here investigating this nonsense.

The fire blazed to the southwest. A glowing orange flower pulsating in the nighttime woods. Del saw no sign of the two figures in the dancing shadows. He smelled burning rubber under the smoke, though. Someone had peeled off in a hurry. Perhaps the same someone now cooking in that fire down the embankment. The thought made his stomach do a flip.

He hoped the emergency services were on their way.

He headed toward the fire just in case there was anything he could do to help in the meantime. As he walked that way, he kept looking around for the two figures. The gravel crunched under every step he took. A choir of crickets did their call and response routine, like the nocturnal insect interpretation of a Catholic mass. A chill breeze hissed through the trees. Flames crackled and spat sparks into the air.

Del stopped in the middle of the road to rest his joints and catch his breath. As he reoriented himself, his gaze drifted toward a dimly lit window on a nearby house. Someone was moving inside. Perhaps they knew more about what happened or where those two figures ended up.

He strode toward the lighted window and stopped at the edge of the property. Through the glass, he saw the lithe, naked torso of his nineteen-year-old neighbor Christi Orndorff. That boyfriend of hers lay beneath her, eyes wide with wonder as he took in the sight of the young woman on top of him.

Something stirred in Del’s pants. The stir was familiar, but he almost didn’t recognize it because so much time had passed. He was getting a hard-on. A damn miracle at his age. He couldn’t even remember the last time he got one.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he thought with youthful excitement and stepped forward for a closer look.

He was still vaguely aware of the smell of smoke and the hiss of flames, but these matters seemed less pressing. Help was on the way, after all. Best to let the professionals handle it while he took in this moment of revitalized arousal.

He found a spot behind a proud elm in the side yard and continued to peer through the window. Christi sure knew what she was doing. She rode her man at an easy rhythm and supported herself to give him a good view of her sleek, tight body. The guy beneath her was tense in his arms and face, doing all he could to keep his climax at bay.

Del’s hard-on was even more pronounced now. It pressed against the inside of his jeans with such force it was almost painful. He wished his grandson wasn’t staying with him tonight. He would love nothing more than to head back and have Yolanda take care of this for him.

His left hand found the crotch of his pants and began to lightly rub. As Christi continued to rock her hips, her face contorted in ecstasy. Del imagined he could almost hear her cries of pleasure.

He unzipped his pants and sighed when his fingers touched the skin of his long-neglected penis. He gave no thought to any religious reservations he might have had when it came to spilling his seed while watching this private moment between two people over half a century younger than him. No thought to his reasons for coming out here in the first place. No thought to the memory of chasing a peeping Tom from his own yard on a night like this, some thirty years back. He only thought of the pleasure that would soon come as he fumbled his erect member out of his underwear. It had been too long. He was too worked up.

Another set of fingers closed around his shaft. It wasn’t his hand. A heavy presence stood behind him that he hadn’t noticed in his state of reinvigorated lust. Before he could scream, a second hand clamped across his mouth. He tasted something bristly and dry in its palm.

Del attempted to wriggle free, but the hand around his quickly deflating penis lessened the intensity of his movements. He didn’t want to accidentally tear it off, especially now that it just started working again.

When the dead matter pressed against his mouth began to writhe, he couldn’t help himself. He flailed his arms and kicked. All the struggle proved useless. His assailant was freakishly strong.

Del’s lips started to tingle, as if he’d eaten something too spicy. The strands of straw tried working their way into his mouth, scraping against his gums and teeth like dental hooks. The tingle around his mouth became more intense, less a tingle and more like he’d pressed his lips to a hot pan. He remembered the gun strapped to his hip and reached for it. He unsnapped the holster as his lips burned and his cock ached. His fingers closed around the gun’s grip.

The assailant gave Del’s dick a fierce yank. The organ ripped free like a thick, stubborn weed from damp earth, dragging strings of flesh and muscle with it. The blood flow was instantaneous and copious, drenching the front of Del’s pants and the earth at his feet. The same earth where he nearly spilled his seed now soaked up his life force.

Roy Patrick held the gory prize overhead like a trophy as Del slumped against him. The strands of hay from his palm tunneled into Del’s throat. They melted and melded with the lining of the old man’s esophagus, infusing this new vessel with new animation, and making it another extension of the entity from Alvin West’s barn.

—

Something thumped wetly against the window and Gabriel stopped thrusting into Christi. She must’ve heard it too because she stopped bucking against him. He felt awkward standing still while embedded inside her even though he hadn’t finished, but he was on edge tonight. The fire, the screams, the phone call to the authorities. It was too damn much.

Whatever hit the window could’ve been a branch caught in the wind or a bird flying too carelessly. Gabriel could’ve easily ignored it on any other night, seeking instead the pleasure of his girlfriend’s wet warmth rather than anything else going bump in the night. Something made him look, though, and he instantly wished he hadn’t.

A bloody penis clung to the window like a clump of pale mud and tangled roots. Gabriel’s mouth opened and closed. No words would emerge—he could hardly breathe.

Christi spoke for him. “Holy fucking shit!” she shrieked and pulled away from him with a wet slurp.