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The Possessed Child

The Possessed Child

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Published by Lisa Morton
Is young Aram a disturbed child...or is his father right in suspecting something more? A bonus story for the forthcoming collection MONSTERS OF L.A.
Is young Aram a disturbed child...or is his father right in suspecting something more? A bonus story for the forthcoming collection MONSTERS OF L.A.

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Published by: Lisa Morton on Apr 01, 2011
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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The following story is presented here for the first time ever. It’s a sample of what you’ll getin my forthcoming collection
Monsters of L.A.
, to be published by Bad Moon Books this Halloween. The collection presents 20 stories based on classic horror tropes, each rebooted in a contemporary urban Los Angeles-area location. Within
Monsters of L.A.
, for example, you’ll find a “Dr. Jekyll andMr. Hyde” who is experimenting with gender reassignment, a “Haunted House” situated in thehistoric Angelino Heights area, a “Creature” that arises from the La Brea Tar Pits, and a completenovelette about a young folklore expert who encounters the reality behind some Southern California“Urban Legends”. None of the stories has ever been published before, and each one will include anessay discussing the themes and locations used in the story and what they mean to me as a lifelong Angeleno. Between now and the book’s release, I’ll be publishing a few of these extra stories, whichare additional works not included in the book.Enjoy.— Lisa MortonNorth Hollywood, CaliforniaCopyright Lisa Morton 2011http://www..lisamorton.com 
Danny held his smart phone up, eyeing an image of his eight-year-old son Aram posedbeneath the bronze statue of Colonel Griffith Jenkins Griffith, but he squinted past the LCD screenwhen he saw the boy’s crotch darkening.“Aram, for God’s sakes…”The boy stood still, staring dully at his father, as a trickle of urine ran out from beneath hisshorts and down one leg. Danny looked around nervously; it was a Sunday and other parts of Griffith Park were crowded, but no one ever stopped at the statue of the park’s namesake. Danny thought Griffith must have been a great man, a philanthropist, to give away this much prime realestate, and he’d imagined that taking a photo next to the statue might have inspired Aram, butobviously it hadn’t.Danny shoved the phone into a pocket and rushed up to Aram. “Damn it, Aram, why didn’tyou tell me –”“I’m not Aram.”“Stop that right now.” The boy had started saying that two weeks ago, when Danny hadasked him why he was sitting on the steps of their apartment building crushing ants with his barefingers. “I’m not Aram,” he’d answered, his voice too low and too soft, and then he’d risen, walkedpast Danny, gone into their two-bedroom apartment, and closed the door to his room. Danny hadn’tfollowed, but instead had walked into the kitchen where his wife, Marta, was chattering on thephone to her relatives.“Is something wrong with Aram?” he’d asked, breaking into her conversation.She’d told her sister (or mother or cousin or whoever it was she was always blathering at) tohold on, and turned to stare at him warily. “No. Why?”“He just told me he’s not Aram.”Marta had shrugged. “He’s playing.” She returned to her phone conversation.Danny almost grabbed the phone from her hand, but instead he got a beer from therefrigerator and walked into the living room. Marta had been reading some strange books lately andthe coffee table was littered with them, New Age texts and pseudo-religious nonsense; he picked upsomething called
The Book of Enoch 
and glanced through it, seeing lists of strange names and a lot of stuff that made no sense. He wondered if his wife had been filling their son’s head with this trash.A week later, Aram had hit another boy at school – “for no reason”, the injured party hadcried, as blood gushed from his nose – and Danny had once again questioned Marta. “What are youtelling that kid?”

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