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Weird, Wonderful and Worrisome Stories

Weird, Wonderful and Worrisome Stories

By James Wilkinson

Copyright 2017 James Wilkinson

Shakespir Edition

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Table of Contents

Thief’s Curse



About the Author

Thief’s Curse

Tonight. It would finally end tonight. The unending horror that the past twenty-five years had been would finally end tonight. Soon he would be rid of those damnable paintings that had caused him so much grief over the years. Soon, he would be free.

How was he to known they were cursed? Cursed didn’t exist, right? That’s what he and Jake thought when they jacked them from the gallery back in 90’. They were just a couple of young guys looking for an easy score. The gallery was an easy job. While certainly not experts in the subject, they knew the value of at least a few of the bigger names in the gallery. To them it was just like any other heist they had pulled. It was only when they decided to check the news the next day did they realize the full extent of what they had done. The glory of that memory sent a shiver through his body. It was a good time to be alive.

Then the curse started to manifest itself. At first, it was small things. Someone would break into his car. Jake would get mugged, etc. They initially brushed it off as bad luck, or the perils that come with living in the city. Noticeable, annoying, but not anything damning. Then the curse started to attack in earnest, and his truly became a living hell.

It started with his brother. Poor bastard got trapped in an elevator for over a month. They only found him when the tenants started to complain about the smell. Nearly a year after that, Jake lost his mother when her apartment collapsed. Soon, the unfortunate deaths of their loved ones became more and more common, and the friends began to theorize whey this was. So many theories were put forth, but it wasn’t until it was too late that they realized that they were cursed.

By the time he finally figured out what was happening, Jake was already gone. Dead, at the hands of some homeless meth-head. For the longest time he was alone, unwilling to form attachments to anyone, less the curse strike them as well. It had taken years for him to realize the cause behind the curse that had devastated him so. It had taken even more for him to work up the courage to put an end to it.

So here he was, outside of the same gallery, twenty-five years to the date. Sitting behind the wheel of his van in the gallery’s parking lot, he was desperately trying to get himself to stop shaking. A few good swigs from his flask help with that. He would have wanted to drain the entire thing then and there, but he needed his mind alert for what was about to happen. He observed the people leaving the gallery, keeping an eye out for one particular individual. His eyes lit up as he spied the director leaving the gallery. Taking a final swig for courage, he exited his van to confront her.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said tentatively. “I have something for you that I think you will enjoy.”

Cautiously she followed him around to the back of his van. As he unveiled the treasures that were hidden inside, he felt something that he had not felt in years.



A hotel room. Of all the places in town they could have chosen for the negotiations, it had to be a hotel room. Sure, the hotel was the only establishment in “The Neutral Zone” able to host the negotiations, but why a room? Why not give them full control of the business center, or the conference room? That surely would have been a much more appropriate setting for what was to come. Yet here the Gentleman found himself, sitting outside on the patio of one of the hotels many first floors rooms. The cool summer breeze was relaxing, soothing even. Enough to almost make him forget about his upcoming negotiations with an agent of the Enemy.

The sound of the door opening drew the Gentleman out of his train of thought. He watched with great interest as his opponent entered the room. He was ready, he was going to win, and he was going to negotiate the best damn deal that anyone has ever…

He looked into her eyes. And his confidence collapsed.

Standing in front of him, drink in hand, was the Lady. This was not part of the plan. He was expecting another ambassador, like himself. Not the leader of the Enemy. The Lady, though not trained in the art like him, was a master at manipulation. He knew from experience how well she could steer any conversation to her favor. This would take all his skill.

Joining him on the back porch, the Lady sat down on one of the nearby chairs. With no visible expression, she took in the surroundings, her eyes lingering for the briefest second on the water feature in front of her. A great silence overcame the two, punctuated only by the low humming of the room’s air conditioner and the occasional buzzing of a passing insect. Then, without warning, the Lady spoke.

“I’ve had my people draw these up for you. I’m sure you will find my terms acceptable,” the Lady said, withdrawing a series of papers from her handbag and offering them to the Gentleman.

“Not bloody likely,” the Gentleman said, snatching the papers out of her hands. He began rifling through the papers, trying to find something about the deal to complain about. The more he looked, the more his expression changed. His original mischievous smirk soon became a depressing frown. That soon turned into a menacing snarl as he searched desperately for something, anything that didn’t work for him. After searching through the papers for the third time, he began to hyperventilate.

“Something wrong?” the Lady asked, a coy smile appearing on her wizened face.

“What the hell is up with this deal?” the Gentleman practically shouted.

“Nothing is “up” with this deal,” the lady replied calmly. “It is a fair deal for both of us.”

“Exactly!” shouted the Gentleman. “Why would you do this? Why make things fair?”

“Because,” the Lady stated as she calmly stood up. “I still care for you.” With that the Lady left the room, leaving the Gentleman alone with his thoughts, and the divorce papers.

This was going to be along night. Why he decided to be his own divorce lawyer he never knew.


Amy held her breath as the car rolled silently across the road from her. She sat in the bushes, as quietly as possible, praying that that damnable vehicle and those inside didn’t find her. The weather was unbearable; the freezing rain stung her with every drop, and the icy wind was unrelenting. But the weather didn’t matter. Nor did it matter that she hiding in a group of rose bushes, caked in cold mud. All that mattered was that that car not find her.

It had started earlier in that afternoon. Classes had let out early for the day, and Amy was eager to get home for a quick nap before work. As she made her way to her apartment complex, she noticed something unusual for the neighborhood: and old, black Cadillac, parked a few doors down from her. Such a car was unheard of in an area where only the most modern of vehicles reigned supreme. Paying no more attention to the vehicle, she continued with her day as usual.

Then, it started to follow her.

When she left for work, she found the vehicle parked directly in front of her apartment. As she began her trek to work, she noticed that the car was starting to follow her. At first she believed it to be a coincidence. After all, he route was practically a straight line, not at all an unusual route to take for a motorist. Still, there was something off about that car. It wasn’t until after she decided to put her theory to the test that she was sure the car was following her.

After several failed attempts to shake the strange vehicle following her, Amy decided to just give it up and get to work. A reassuring thought crossed her mind as she remembered that her boss, Mr. Jackson, was an ex-army officer and would surely help scare off whoever was following her. That reassurance was quickly dashed when she arrived at her place of work, ironically a used car dealership, only to find everything gone.

Where once several hundred used cars of varying colors stood waiting to be sold, there was a scene Amy had only ever seen in movies. In place of the dealerships usual vehicles were dozens of pitch black cars bearing no marks of identification whatsoever. Milling around these cars were hundreds of men in black suits, most of whom were visibly armed. What made the scene even more terrifying was the fact that all the cars were Cadillac’s, all from different points in time.

Amy could do nothing but stand there, wide eyed and slack jawed at what was happening around her. She was so transfixed on a group of men attempting to subdue Mr. Jackson that she failed to notice the old Cadillac approaching behind her. It wasn’t until Mr. Jackson shouted at her to run that she was brought back to reality. Amy had never disobeyed her boss before, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to now.

And so she ran.

She ran faster and farther than she had ever ran in her life. Soon the sounds and sights of the inner city gave way to the suburbs. And this is where she found herself, cowering in a rosebush like an animal. It was past midnight now, and she was tired and afraid. Whoever, or whatever, was in the car clearly wanted her. Why was anyone’s guess. But she would never let them ha….

Amy felt a scratch at her leg, clearly not from the bush. A small animal had found her. A raccoon. Amy hated raccoons. She couldn’t help herself. She screamed. Then regretted that.

Immediately the car was upon her. The men took her. Everything went black.

Then she woke up.

Hyperventilating, she glanced over at the time. Nearly six in the morning. Almost time to get up. It was all a dream. Sighing, Amy got up and looked out the window, as was customary for her.

An old, black Cadillac greeted her.

About the Author

James Wilkinson is a scriptwriter currently earning his Bachelor of Creative Writing Degree at Full Sail University. His first movie script is the action filled, alternate history inspired Habsburg Rising. You can find his LinkedIn profile [_ Here_]

Weird, Wonderful and Worrisome Stories

"Curse" is about the unexpected return of stolen art, and the misery that was caused by it. "Negotiate" is about a man attempting to negotiate a treaty with the one person with whom he cannot negotiate with. "Cadillac" is the story of Amy, as she attempts to evade by an unknown group and their Cadillac cars.

  • Author: JamesWilkinson
  • Published: 2017-01-30 01:20:14
  • Words: 1905
Weird, Wonderful and Worrisome Stories Weird, Wonderful and Worrisome Stories