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    Transmissions
    Transmissions
    Transmissions
    Ebook96 pages1 hour

    Transmissions

    By Branden Neeson

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    About this ebook

    Presenting a new collection of Branden Neeson's stories that will fascinate readers, with dizzying and surprising stories full of uncertainty, intrigue and fright.  In this book you’ll find “Broken Roads” and “Haunted Lands”, two plots woven with suspense and a rhythm of intrigue which gradually reveal the detailed plots.  In “Broken Roads” you’ll uncover apparently unrelated events that unravel over time.  With action from the beginning, assumptions are made by the protagonist according to what he observes and analyses, leading to a disturbing climax.  In “Haunted Lands”, you’ll share an adventure of great intrigue with the protagonist, and be transported to a land of investigation, suspicion and unrest that won’t fail to intoxicate.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBadPress
    Release dateDec 16, 2020
    ISBN9781071543580
    Transmissions
    Author

    Branden Neeson

    Branden Neeson; tiene presentado ante el público numerosos thrillers caracterizados por interesantes entramados con un estilo de suspense en las secuencias que los forman. Cuidadoso en la definición de los ambientes de sus lugares, no van involucrando en los sucesos que en estos acaecen, permaneciendo atentos a las acciones que se van fraguando a medida que transcurren. No falta en estos relatos momentos de miedo y delirio, de sorpresa que lleva al sopesar en su ciencia ficción, y increíble momentos que se van sucediendo en sus variadas historias. Acostumbra a dar a sus lectores, desde relatos de género de puro y estiloso suspense, hasta de miedo y asombro, de alucinación, incluso de elaborados párrafos donde se vierten en ellos, partes de interesante reflexión de investigación en algunos de sus relatos.

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      Book preview

      Transmissions - Branden Neeson

      Transmissions

      Branden Neeson

      Translated by Lauren Critchley 

      Transmissions

      Written By Branden Neeson

      Copyright © 2020 Branden Neeson

      All rights reserved

      Distributed by Babelcube, Inc.

      www.babelcube.com

      Translated by Lauren Critchley

       Babelcube Books and Babelcube are trademarks of Babelcube Inc.

      Chapter 1. Broken Roads

      I walk down the hallway looking for my cigarettes.  I go through several of the rooms in my house, but I don't see them.  I poke my head into the living room, and then I see them on the table. I go to them and light one to smoke.  I take a drag and put down the lighter.  After standing there waking up, I walk across the living room to the windows, stretching as I take a few slow steps.  It’s not long since I woke up, and I'm still sleepy.  I contemplate the inside of the house, seeing the rays of sun enter through the windows that have the blinds raised but the curtains drawn.  The light still bothers me, and it’s not even that sunny, more like grey.  I’d already seen that when I looked out of the kitchen window that morning.  I wander around the living room, waking myself up, and I go over to the windows.  Here, I recline against the sofa and drawing back the curtain, look outside.  

      The day is calm again in the neighbourhood streets, no cars pass, as is common on these roads, and still no-one can be seen in the remote houses of these streets.  I notice that the sky remains grey over our simple, cared-for, single-family homes.  I stand leaning forward looking out, almost still asleep, folding my arms while lifting my gaze from a fixed position. I observe the street calmly, until suddenly, I see a shocking sight that jolts me upright.

      Rooted there, I see a man a few steps from my front walk. He’s standing static and silent, with a face greyer than the day, looking at my house.  He is alone, standing there looking for me.  I can’t see his face well as he’s wearing something that I can’t really make out.  It’s like a cap or a hood, which leaves his face in the dark, I can hardly distinguish his features.  Faced with such a sight, I start, and I stare at him.  I also look around, and I don’t see anyone passing by anywhere, anyone accompanying him, or anyone else noticing that dark man.  I look for a moment, and I speak to him.

       Sir? Can I help you? I ask him out loud.

       … He stays silent, saying nothing.

       Are you looking for something? I continue asking, making him notice me.  

       … He keeps his silence.  He doesn’t say a word and stands stick straight.

      Sir? I’m here. Are you interested in something here? I try to clarify before such an unsettling silence.

      … He persists in his silence while I start to get agitated watching his dark figure in eerie stillness, which judging by the position of his head is staring at me.  Although, I’m not sure.  What I am sure of is that he’s looking at my house.  Of that, I’m convinced.  

      After a few seconds already thinking of a thousand things, I stop staring at him for a long moment and I decide to talk to him again.

       Do you want something? I ask him, leaning out of the window.  

      …  He keeps quiet again.

      This time I barely stay at the window.  Somewhat uneasy, although more or less resigned, I turn and prepare to go down to where he is.  I move back from the window, and I go to get a jumper. I put it on, and I take the stairs down, to look out from the ground floor.

      I walk down the hallway toward the entrance, wondering if what I'm going to do will be dangerous given the situation.  While I walk, I decide not to get too close, the man is disturbing, and I don't know what could happen.  I reach the front door of the house and opening it, I see that the man is still there in the same position.  I’m still not sure what he’s looking at.  Now I get the impression that he’s looking towards the house but at nothing in particular.  I notice that it’s a hood he’s wearing.  He keeps still, reactionless.

      Sir?  Can I help you? I ask him, moving within a few metres of him and stopping.  Being careful.

      I keep waiting for a reply, but he doesn’t say anything.  This unsettles me and I move a few steps closer to speak to him again.  Then I see that he moves his head as I do so.  

      Clayford Trenton wants to see you, he says in a hoarse voice, stepping back so that I can’t see his face, and starting to walk briskly up the street.

      I stand watching him leave.  I watch until I can’t see him any longer.  Then, I turn around and I go inside.  

      I sit on the sofa and start thinking.  

      I actually know a Clayford Trenton, he’s an old man who lives a few streets away with his wife. I don’t even know if they’re alive, they’re both really old.  The last I heard about him was that he had some problem when someone tried to rob them on a trip they took.  His wife must have been waiting for him in the car, and he must have seen a man threatening her from outside the car.

      So, Clayford, who is quite the hunting fan and walks around with a gun on the lookout for animals, coming back and seeing that, didn’t hesitate to point it at the man and tell him to get out of there.  They say the other man immediately went to take aim, so the old man shot him.  He didn’t finish him off because he had good aim, but they say he messed him up a bit.  That’s all I know about Clayford, I don’t have any more news; he’s a man I used to know because he knew my parents when they were alive.  Both he and his wife are known in this area, but they keep to themselves. I saw them more back in the day, but they must be really old now, and I haven't seen them in a long time.

      I digress.  After walking around the house thinking, I decide to

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