2009 Thriller Young Adult

The Apprentice | A Work in Progress

{ 404 words so far }

“I am Death,” he tells me as he hands me the scythe.  He had personally forged the blade out of stainless steel himself.  I can’t help but be amazed at his resourcefulness, and the meticulousness of his craft, his attention to detail and his drive to be the best he is at what he does.  “If you join me, Callie, you will be Death’s apprentice.  That is, if you agree to be my assistant.”

He presents even more weapons of horror to me from a briefcase that lay on the table in his basement.  I could not begin to describe most of them with words.

“And provided that you were not just telling me what I wanted to hear when I saved you from the empty life of a rudderless street urchin you were living.”

That stings.  I hate his throwing my recent status as a homeless person out at me as some kind of grand judgment of my worth.  I start to think that in his deep-seeded misanthropy that maybe his opinion of women is right on par with his hatred of men.

“What will it be, Calliope?”

How can I not accept his offer for this great opportunity?  A few weeks ago I was a nobody runaway living hand-to-mouth on the streets, squatting in rundown abandoned houses with creepy bums, pick-pocketing unsuspecting yuppies on the subway and finding, to my dismay, that they only carried plastic.  I didn’t care if I lived or died.

“Remember that pack of wolves I rescued you from?”

Boy, do I remember.  Again, he is picking at healing scabs.  The night Death saved me I had been sold out by a squat-mate who had tipped-off the local boys in the ‘hood that if they looked past my short-cropped hair cut, flat chest, baggy clothes and outward androgyny that they would find a virgin teen-aged girl who was ripe for the picking.  That asshole squatter traded my virginity for a meth fix.

“Once you finish your studies in self-defense, and once I teach you the fine art of killing and the ways of death, then no man—or men, will ever be able to do what those gangbanging cowards did to you.”

I give it some serious thought and consider heavily what he says. No man includes him as well, right?

“Yeah, I’ll be your apprentice.”

And in the end I will become Death.

“When do I start?”

Written: December 22, 2009.

Copyright © 2009-2016 by Brandon L. Rucker. All Rights Reserved.

Image courtesy of Wallpaper | RuckerWrites | @RuckerWrites

Amazon | Smashwords

2009 Crime Excerpt

Four Deep | An Excerpt

{ 397-word excerpt }

Three-thirty now.  He’s got the four of us waiting with our cocks in our hands, but since I’m responsible for this partnership I’m the one who’s going to get pissed on.

At this hour with Mulligan’s now closed we’re lucky we haven’t seen any cops sweeping the parking lot.   I’m sure it’s just a matter time, though.  After another five minutes we finally see the rat bastard’s Monte Carlo pull into the parking lot, then next to my Ninety-Eight where we’re all leaning against it.  I notice he doesn’t switch off his engine.

Considering the situation I can’t bother with pleasantries.  “Raleigh, you got our take?”

The twitchy bastard hands over a black gym bag from his passenger seat.  “Yeah, it’s all there.”

I give the bag to Bert as he hops back into my car so he can do a quick visual.  I bet no more than four seconds go by before he’s humming “mmhm” to himself, which isn’t good news.  “Raleigh, Raleigh, you’re short, man,” He finally says with that incredulous disbelief that raises his voice an octave or two.  “I see . . . ten . . . eleven . . . twelve grand here!  Four ways that’s only three grand, man.”

Tevin says, “Dude, that puts us out one k each.”

“I think somebody failed grade school math,” Percy says reaching for the piece that he keeps in his inside breast pocket, thankfully not pulling it.

The total take was twenty k with our cut being sixteen of that.  Nice and even, Steven.  So divide that by four and that should be four grand each.  But that ain’t the case, hombre.  Looking back at Raleigh I tell him to turn his car off and stay awhile, but—

“That’s all right,” He says, now brandishing his Glock nine at us.  “I’ve got other plans.”  Next thing I know he peels off in his Monte Carlo, leaving us not only with our cocks in our hands but now with a sever case of blue balls.  Naturally, the boys are livid.


“Lets chase his ass down!”

“Bert, Percy, don’t worry about it.”  They won’t believe it, but I’m actually prepared this time.  “I took out an insurance policy in case something like this happened.”

Acknowledgment paints Bert’s face.  “Let me guess, dude don’t know you’re banging his girl?”

“That’s only the half of it.”

Written: December 12 & 13, 2009. The full story originally published in February 2015 by Dead Guns PressThis sample is for electronic access and online archiving, and is intended for reading and reviewing purposes only – any other unauthorized use or dissemination is strictly prohibited.

Copyright © 2009 – 2016 by Brandon L. Rucker. All Rights Reserved.

Image by Joshua S. Hooten and is Copyright © 2016. | RuckerWrites | @RuckerWrites

Amazon | Smashwords

2009 horror Poem Poetry

Dream a Little Scream of Me | A Poem

Dream a little dream of me

When you sleep

I will creep

On your fears and superstitions

While you pray

I will play

I’m the lurker in your closet


Yes I can

Make you fear what lay in shadows

Scaredy cat


I’m the ghoul beneath your bed

I breed fright

When there’s no light

Fill you up with dread and doubt

Am I a lie

You decide

I’m the monster in your nightmares

Sending thrills

That give you chills

Just dream a big ol’ scream for me

Then face the fears

That you hold dear

Written: December 15, 2009. My first and preferred title was “Dream of Me, Scream for Me”. This poem originally featured in Dreams and Screams, a print anthology published by Liquid Imagination Magazine in August 2010.

Copyright © 2010-2016 by Brandon L. Rucker. All Rights Reserved. | RuckerWrites | @RuckerWrites

Amazon | Smashwords

2009 Drabble Western

A Shooter’s Welcome | A Drabble

{ 100 words }

As he drifts into town, a gust of wind pushes dust and tumbleweed on either side, trying to bully this Stranger with few possessions: his noble steed, the clothes on his back, a bullet belt and two trusty holstered revolvers. He doesn’t bully easily. The fallen outlaws who lay in his wake would attest to that, were they not cold, dead and decaying in their makeshift shallow graves. In the near distance he hears that unmistakable sound. Upon his steed, he retrieves a pistol from his side and rides toward what could be the bloodiest shootout this side of Texas.

Written: December 18, 2009

Copyright © 2009-2016 by Brandon L. Rucker. All Rights Reserved. | RuckerWrites | @RuckerWrites

Amazon | Smashwords

2009 Dark Fantasy Poem Poetry

Succubus | A Poem

As the moon peers periodically
Between smoke-gray clouds set
Against the canvas of the night sky
She comes to me with love
And a hunger that weakens her
I lament that I can offer
No remedy to that which ails

Ours is a love forbidden
By the laws of nature
If not the laws of man
Spawned by an infernal sire
Her skin burns from a fire within
And matches the blaze of passion
We hold fast to one another

We embrace as lovers do
And fall victim to our lust
Which knows no bounds
And it is during our coupling
That I witness her raw power
That magical charm, that piercing gaze
She beguiles me and I wilt

How did it come to be
That this creature
Borne of man and demon alike
Had chosen to love me
A mere mortal woman
Who has not the power
To sustain her

Note: The theme here deviates from tradition, instead has a succubus choosing a same-sex mate.

Written on December 16, 2009. Originally featured in Static Movement Special No. 2a print anthology published by Liquid Imagination Publishing in 2010. This re-published edition exists for electronic access and online archiving, and is intended for reading and reviewing purposes only — any other unauthorized use or dissemination is strictly prohibited.

© 2009-2016 by Brandon L. Rucker. All Rights Reserved.

Demoness Girl image by Nochiel (Olga Obernikhina) and is Copyright © 2012-2016. | RuckerWrites | @RuckerWrites

Amazon | Smashwords

2009 Poem Poetry Supernatural

Mare of the Night | A Poem

From the Nether

She stands tall

A specter of a horse

Infernal beast

Bathed in flame

From the fiery depths

On thunderous hooves

Her gallop is fierce

Black as coal

And lightning swift

She soars in wingless flight

Through the indigo sky

Her eyes are a beacon

Aglow like burning embers

Every mortal’s nightmare

A demon steed

A harbinger of fate

She brings only certain doom

Written on December 15, 2009. Originally featured in Static Movement Special No. 2a print anthology published in 2010 by Liquid Imagination Publishing, edited by Chris Bartholomew. This re-published edition exists for electronic access and online archiving, and is intended for reading and reviewing purposes only — any other unauthorized use or dissemination is strictly prohibited.

© 2009-2016 by Brandon L. Rucker. All Rights Reserved. | RuckerWrites | @RuckerWrites

Amazon | Smashwords

2009 Lyrics song

The Mission | Lyrics

Calm the savage beast with my music so smooth

I initiate the groove to make your body move

You can feel it all inside you as it reaches your core

Get up off your back and put your feet to the floor

Like a moth to a flame, you can feel the burn

The rhythm will confront you at your every turn

Like a beacon in the dark to lead you through the night

You can swim these tranquil waters ‘cause you know it’s all right

We’re one nation under a groove, these are times to heal

You know my word is bond ‘cause my name is For Real

Life is not as bad or as good as it seems

But we should never give up on our positive dreams

I’m not comin’ at’chu with elaborate schemes

I just wanna rock your body ‘til it’s ripping the seams

We’ve got no precious time for ridiculous schisms

We’re people on a mission for the ill-est of rhythms

Don’t take this all lightly ‘cause the message is serious

I don’t suffer fools ‘cause they get me all furious

You know you can’t stop the sensation

It’s time to unite this lost nation

There’s only one simple thing we can do

Don’t think I’m naïve ‘cause my mission is lofty

I be makin’ music like others be makin’ coffee

But I try not to scrap ‘cause I’m a wannabe pacifist

Don’t come at me with that noise ‘cause I’m just not havin’ it

I bring you this message only ‘cause it’s so real

Think about it deep and know my name is For Real

Written between 4/28/09 – 5/7/09. Released sometime in 2009.

Copyright © 2009 | RuckerWrites | @RuckerWrites

I Rock Recordings