This week we come to the final installment of J is for Jogah. It’s reached a little over 6,000 words and will require a little editing to bring it up to a serviceable standard, but that’s how writing works. You start with the spark of an idea, build a concept on top of it then try to create an ending that will stay with the reader long after they read the story.
As it stands right now I’m a far cry from its completion. But I have recently completed and published two from the very start of this challenge. A is for Alone on the Devil’s Doorstep, and B is for Brotherly Love. Both are available where ebook are sold and can be purchased for the price of a cup of coffee.
It’s what inspired this idea to begin with. Create an alphabet series, but instead of writing the stories in solitude, share the process, and the first draft, warts and all, with those who follow my blog. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you’ll honor me by purchasing one or both of the stories currently available. You wont be disappointed.
Without further adieu let’s get into the final installment of J is for Jogah.
From the shadows came a soft voice speaking in a language he’d never heard before. It wasn’t Spanish, Italian, or German. The voice carried a pleasing quality to it, the individual words spoken in a sing song manner that sent a chill whispering down his back. Goosebumps broke out across his arms, and he stepped out into the hallway, the creak of a board beneath his foot, causing whoever was singing to stop. In the silence it felt like his heart was going to escape the confines of his chest it was beating so hard, and he was afraid that whoever, or whatever, had invaded his sister’s bedroom would hear it.
After several moments of silence the voice continued its haunting melody and Jeffery managed to make it the rest of the way across the hallway. At his sister’s door he peered around the trim and spotted a shadowy shape standing over her crib. It looked like a person staring into her crib as it continued to sing softly. Jeffer reached around the door frame, his fingers searching the wall until he found the light switch.
He flipped the light on, filling the room with a sudden brilliance, the singing punctuated by a surprised shout that was followed by the frantic sound of running footsteps.
He stepped into the doorway as whoever was fleeing crashed into the dresser. A small figure emerged from the shadows on the other side of the dresser and raced across the floor to vanish beneath Melinda’s crib. Melinda began crying, drawing his mother’s attention as the sound of her approach came from beyond the open door.
“Who turned on the light?” his mom asked as she reached the door to find Jeffery peering under the crib.
“What are you looking for?”
Jeffery put his finger to his lips to hush her and turned his attention to what was hiding under the crib. He could see it in the back, where the shadows were deepest, a slender figure no more than ten inches tall, and dressed in what looked like native American garb stood motionless.
“I see you,” Jeffery said.
“What do you see young man?” his mother demanded as she came into the room, “why are you in your sisters bedroom? Why is the light on?”
“It’s under there,” Jeffery said, pointing into the shadows under the crib.
Melinda’s cries, coupled with his mother’s comments drew his father who appeared in the doorway with sleepy eyes and a messy head if hair. “What’s going on in here?” he said.
“It’s your son,” his mother replied, “he disturbed Melinda. He says there’s something under the crib.” His mother crossed to the crib and gathered Melinda from her bed. When she did a solitary feather dropped to the floor to land next to Jeffery’s hand. It appeared to be a feather from a black bird, its surface shimmering with the light.
“What’s under there?” his dad asked as he knelt where Jeffery was hunkered down.
Jeffery looked away for only a moment, but that was enough time for the creature under the crib to make a break for it. Tiny racing footsteps came from the perimeter of the room as it made its way to the door. Jeffery tried to get to the door before it, but it managed to slip out into he shadowy safety of the hallway.
He raced after the tiny figure, down the hall, to the steps, taking them two at a time as the little Indian crossed the foyer to the small door where it stopped and looked back once before vanishing into the night.
Next week I’ll start a new story for the letter K. At this point I have no idea what I’m going to do, but I’ve got 7 days to come up with the first 500 words. See you then.
They live in the shadowy corners of our well‑lit world. Where reality is thinnest, where dreams curdle into nightmares, and belief becomes dangerous.
This A‑to‑Z short story challenge explores ghosts, spirits, old myths, and the paranormal at the edge of reason. Each letter delivers a new doorway into the dark. Standalone tales linked by atmosphere, dread, and the uneasy question, what happens when you look too closely at the veil?
Richard Schiver 