Book 1: Open for Investigation


         Officer James Kurkland was assigned a case on missing civilians on March 5th, 1982. The commanding officer and Sheriff of Billings, Montana; Col. Marcus Dale sent James Kurkland and his squad to investigate this phenomenon and to resolve the case. This is his story. Cold Case No.166

Chapter 1

         ¨This is it boys get your diapers packin’ as we're headed out!¨ Yelled Sgt. James as he barged into the lounge in the police department. ¨What happened James?¨ exclaimed Pvt. Hard Woods. Pvt. Woods aka Woody was the slacker of the team yet was useful as he did all the paperwork of the squadron. Thin was an understatement for him; a better word to describe him would be frail; Frail as a burnt twig. ¨Well we're headed to investigate the disappearances at Belview.¨ Said Sgt. James as he looked intently at Fish-Head the squadrons firepower department. His true name is Pfc. Seige Warstainer, a German immigrant whose parents both served in the Nazi Army. To escape the Soviets, his parents sent him to America where he would be safe from harm. Also the reason his name is Fish-Head is because of his shaved head that looks like fish scales. ¨Wake up Fish-Head! It's time for lunch ya lazy bum!¨ yelled Woody as the massive being that was Fish-Head rose from his slumber. It looked like a titan was rising from the depths of tartarus or a heavyweight boxer rising after a knockout. ¨What is ze issue Zarge?¨; ¨We gotta get ready for tomorrow as the Coronel just sent us on an investigation on Redfield Road.¨

         ¨the one of ze missing men?”


         ¨Zvery well I will wake up Saint.¨ stated Fish-Head as he left the room. ¨Tomorrow we leave at O,Five-Hundred got it?!¨

         ¨in Hell I am it's a saturday at the most I wake at nine Sargent Cheapskate!¨

         ¨that is MR. SARGENT to you mister!”

         “Uhh fine!” Outraged, left Woods as he knew he would regret waking so early. With every one out of the lounge, the place became cold with a rush of envy. Only the Sarge stood in that hollow room. No one knows why the laughter was there too.

         The night rolled in over Bellcloud. It came with boisterous winds and billowing fog. The road was unclear, as were it’s travellers that walked on it. Only a whimpering soul could be heard in the distance-Your sins shall be forgiven for your ticket is paid- but this is only a gust carried by the wind.

Chapter 2

March 6th, 1982; 6:30 AM; Location: Billings, Montana

         It was an awfully cold morning, one of those where you wonder if the world had become frozen or if you would even see the sun. “Half a mile! That’s our visibility James!” said Pvt. Woods as he saw into the jaded abyss. “Well men! Seems that we got no choice but to drive in the fog. Woody, you have the best vision so you take the wheel.”

         “You’re killing me of laughter Sargent. I couldn't see  for the life of me without my glasses and still my vision is lacking.”

         “Ha-ha! I was joking, I am to take the wheel; after all; this is my car we’re driving.” remarks Sgt. James. From between the fog two specters began to become visible. “Ahhh! Ghost! Ghost!” yelled Pvt. Woods as he ran into the car. “Hold on! Iz me, Fishy!” Fish-Head, now in sight, was enough to calm Pvt. Woods into calming his nerves. “Wat up mate, I’ve heard y'all were headed to see some ghost! It seems you have a bed-wetter with you though, so you might want to get him some diapers! Ha!” said a voice in the shadows. “Hey you know you’re right Saint! This idiot dose need wipes!”

         “Screw you James! And you too Saint!” protested Woods. Unlike the rest of the young men, in the group Lt. Manolo Saint was not exactly in his prime. Saint was seventy two years old and was the oldest member of the Billings Police Department yet the youngest member of the weekly bingo night at the Billings retirement center. He was of Australian descent, had only three hairs on his bald skull, and was missing his right eye. He states he lost it during the war yet he has never even fired a gun before. “Well Lads! Let’s get going don't we?” asked Saint. “Right! Let’s go boys, on to victory!”


March 6th, 1982; 9:23 AM; Location: Redfield Rd., Montana

         Despite the conditions of the road and the ominous vibe coming from the area, Sgt. James and his squad forged on. “We’re almost at the area of the latest disappearance. I want you all to stay sharp and active in case of a sudden occurrence.” said Sgt. James. “Like what?”

         “like the so-called ghost you fear so much Woody.” said Sgt. James in a monotone voice. It was hollow without emotion, almost as if the bellows of winds suddenly struck them with their freezing breath. That was a voice unheard of from the sargent.

Chapter 3

         We reached the site of the latest disappearance with everyone still accounted for. “Ok everyone, we’re going to split into two groups, Fish-Head and Saint in group one, and Woody and me in group two. Whatever you do, do not separate from each other! We cannot afford a lost comrade. Also keep your locators on at all times. That way if something happens and you feel endangered you can send a distress signal. I have the GPS so Woody and I can find you guys ok?” Commanded the Sgt. James. “What if find a body or it’s ghost? He-he” chuckled Saint in worried laughter; almost as he started to fear the possibility of ghost too. “Well firearms are of no effectiveness toward a corpse of apparition undead or not. I deeply suggest we leave our weapons in the patrol car in case of an encounter with each other or other people, this way we don’t shoot someone out of fear.”

         “zounds good for me. I can kill with bare hands”

         “Ok, it’s not like a zombie can feel pain.”

         “I would usually say no to that offer but since the war I have tried to live a pacifist life so I agree.” Sgt. James smiling took the weapons and stashed them in his trunk. “Group 1 will go North-East, Group 2 Will go north. This way we can cover the ground equally and thoroughly.” Both groups headed towards the unknown ready for the unexpected.

Chapter 4

March 6th, 1982; 10:30 AM; Location: North of Redfield Rd., Montana

         Sgt. James and Pvt. Woods were alone in the mist, the ground was soft yet firm, that of a marsh. “Great! I should have gotten better shoes these cleats are not doing my feet justice.” complained Woods yet again. “You should have known that the terrain here is rough, also I can’t send Saint here because if he tripped he could basically die. Now stop whining and march like a man!” Sgt. James screamed as if he were some kind of general or worse dictator. He doesn't often give orders this way; he set the time too early even for himself.

         “James, are you angry at something?” asked Woods out of the blue. “No, why do you ask?”

         “Well we walked for so long without saying a word.” Then without a warning the atmosphere changed. The world became silent, too silent even for Woody. Almost as if the world froze for a minute. “Something’s not right here Woods. There is a...sinister presence.” said Sgt. james as he broke the silence. “Let’s go back to the car and wait for the others.” offered James. Woody was exalted by the idea yet, had a premonition that whatever was watching them wanted them to go back. “No thanks, I will look for Fish-Head and Saint, ok?”

         “Fine by me” said the sergeant as he disappeared into the fog.

         It wasn't till much later woods would hear cries of pain and agony. He knew, He knew of the monster, and all left do now was run.

Chapter 5

March 6th, 1982; ? AM; Location: North-West Redfield Rd., Montana

         Saint and Fish-Head heard a shriek in the distance. One that sounded more of metal being dragged on stone than that of a human. “A Person?! We have to go investigate this Fish!” Exclaimed Saint! “Yes comrade, see we shall.” Fish-Head and saint headed toward the noise, Its origin was at the direction of the squad car. Fear began to boil in the hearts of Fish-Head and Saint; fear of what they may face, or of who they may see. Exhausted from running they laid on the floor, stiff and weary. “How...much...more?” questioned saint as he laid huffing and weezing on the pain in his lungs. “I...I never really went...to war...you know.”

        “I know” responded Fish-Head in his classic stoic manner, it is as he did not know the definition of empathy only apathy. “Typical german! Yall never show any *cough* feeling do ya?” angrily squabbled saint. “Feeling I do. Feel fear for you, care for you, protect you I must!” Fish-Heads face and actions showed no change yet the warmth of his voice was able to defrost icebergs. “Ha! You really do have a soft side mate! Ha-*cough*cough* I’m on me last legs mate. Let an old aussie have a rest will ya and go check that thing out. An old ruin like me won’t fall with a few hits to the side so don’t worry about me and go ahead i’ll be there shortly lad.”

        “alright Zaint, I will be back.” Taking his word Fish head left towards the road where the patrol car was yet, the place where Saint was laying remained silent, not even the sound of breathing remained.

Chapter 6

March 6th, 1982; ? AM; Location: Unknown

         The fog grew more intense as the distance of possible vision grew to point where one cannot even see their hands. “Jamez! Woodee! Zaint! Zargent!” the howling voices of Fish-Head echoed throughout the woods, it was as if he was a wandering spirit looking for salvation. Click Click Click; pavement of the road. “Ze road! Where?! Where is ze car?!” exalted Fish. He found the road yet he couldn't find the car, the only thing in the horizon were two lights. Two still lights, two vibrating light, blinding, roaring and running! Running right towards--.

         Laying on the floor, with his blood drenching his hands, he looked at his surroundings. Paint, red paint covering the street, covering his dismembered leg, his mutilated torso, his hands, feet, and face. Red paint, blood red paint. There is no pain, just blood. “Good...night...ma...ma…” He murmured as he fell to sleep. He slept like a baby in his mother’s womb; covered in blood and vulnerable.

Chapter 7

March 6th, 1982; ? AM; Location: Unknown

         “Ahhh!” It was the scream of Sgt. James. He was running, running from death itself. “No! I cannot die yet! Not Yet!” he yelled as he tore branches and jumped roots in his way. His salvation? the road, which lay there in front in which the patrol car lay parked. The Sargent with lightning speed opened the door, got inside, and locked the car. Silence was the response of the forest, total and complete silence. From the distance a shriek called out for help. Sgt. James well knowing of the potential danger his comrades were in decided to live. “I’d rather live than die between those fools. I hope that thing finds them that way it won’t find me!” His statement was true to his heart as soon revved the engine and slammed the gas sending the car flying down the road.

         As the fog became thick Sgt. James looked upon a specter on the road, with the high beams the figure was not visible but he was a committed man and ran over the apparition in hopes it did not get up. The car almost spun out of control as the windshield now covered in blood marked his car. “Why do you run? What do you fear?” a voice in the car stated. Sgt. James looking in his rear view mirror saw nothing in the back. The road he was on began to become eternal as he soon though he was insane. “Why the long face?” The spirit spoke into his ear enchanting him with it’s soft voice. The Sergeant frozen with fear and checked the rear mirror yet again. A woman with lacerations on her face and long set of pitch black hair. “No! No! Not yet! Not now! No!” The apparition now holding him in her embrace, “What are you afraid of child? Why are scared? Don’t you love me?” Her cold icy hands gripped the wheel. “Wait! Don’t do it! I don’t want die! Not yet!” The only thing the sergeant remembered seeing was an old tree falling on the road.


      After the disappearance of Sgt. James Kurkland, Pvt. Hard Woods, Pfc. Seige Warstainer, and Lt. Manolo Saint. The Billings Police Department closed the road indefinitely. Members of the police department were too frightened to investigate the incidents at Redfield Road. The Federal Bureau of Investigations decided to take the case. During the investigation they found three of the four missing officers. Pvt. Hard Wood’s body was found three miles north of Redfield road; when under autopsy it was found that had slipped because of bad footing and broke his neck where he died because of spinal cord injuries. Lt. Manolo Saint was located 500 ft north west of the road. His cause of death was a heart attack that killed him instantly due to his old age. Pfc. Seige Warstainer was found laying across the road with his body mutilated as his right leg was torn off his body. A autopsy concluded that what hit him was Sgt. James’ patrol car that was running at over seventy miles per hour. The patrol car was found over twenty miles away from the bodies; crashed into an old tree the body of Sgt. James Kurkland was not found. No tracks of anyone remained. The case remains closed till this day as the FBI labeled the case under their “Unnatural phenomenon” cabinet.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Book 1 on the Bellcloud series

View naboostarfighter7's Full Portfolio


Draining the blood,

flushing it down


Injecting the poison,

delaying its decay


Painting on the makeup

like a clown


Staring into its eyes,

nothing but pain


Making it pretty

one last time,


So they can bare

to shed their tears


Before it is entombed

and forever put away














View eventhorizon's Full Portfolio

The Man in Black

The man in black comin for ya


in the night when you least expect


A shadow in the distance


this undead fiend


who sends his respects


when he puts two bullets in your chest;


you won't know want hit ya


and your lifeless corpse dragged by his horse


across the wasteland and left behind


to be dried by the blazing sun!!!!!!!

View eventhorizon's Full Portfolio

Dream Eater


I come in the night to 

steal your soul,


In your dreams

I pleasure myself

on your worst fears



the images infecting you,

crawling all in your head


wild hogs,

devouring your rotting



Being Plunged 

beneath the waves by some unknown hand,

drowning in your blood in the bathtub less than a man,


Again and again,

I torment you throughout the night

until I am ready to end the fight,


Taking your life,

I come out of your body

like some alien creature


Unsheaving my claws,

I plunge them into your eyes,

and claim my rightful prize


Your soul is mine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





Author's Notes/Comments: 

Inspired by Freddy Krueger.

View eventhorizon's Full Portfolio


On a cold night,

within a dungeon's


a spectre came

crawling about a

prisoners door.


The phantom's wraith

appeared on the cell wall,

it seemed to gnash

its teeth;

clawing on the hard stone,

havoc it would wreak.


The prisoner stood in awe

as the tall figure lurked

outisde the exterior,

fearing his dungeon cell

might become his sepulcher.


Tapping he heard

from all directions

it seemed the ghoul

was everywhere,


Then, it stopped,

the rapping of

that dreadful knock.


It never returned,

but every so often,

he could see the wraith,

and though to himself:

I must have some faith.


View masterpoet's Full Portfolio