V. L. Jones is a paranormal enthusiast and a horror writer. She grew up in a haunted house in Washington State, which fueled her passion for the supernatural and monsters. Verona now lives in Tucson, Arizona, which she uses as her home base to explore haunted sites with a history.
Verona enlisted in the Navy out of high school, and her first duty station was in the highlands of Scotland. Talk about hitting pay dirt. Scotland and England abound with urban legends and ghostly hauntings. Fascinated by the history of these places, she often writes about her spooky findings.
Her explorations fuel her imagination, and she writes horror stories with elements of urban legends, cryptids, and folklore blended in. Verona loves anything about cryptids such as Bigfoot, the Ozark Howler, the black dog, and the Mothman, to name a few. Verona also loves the paranormal and the supernatural worlds. As her schedule permits, you will find her plotting the next trip to a paranormal hotspot.
Verona is a proud member of the Horror Writers Association (HWA) and the Horror Authors Guild (HAG).
WOMAN’S WRATH
by
Verona Jones
Derek woke up with a pounding head and stumbled into the bathroom. On the vanity mirror, a piece of paper caught his attention:
I've taken the kids to my mother's. You know why.
Don't call me. - S
He turned on the cold water and filled the basin before dunking his head. Yeah, telling her the truth hadn't been wise. Whoever said it was - wasn't married. The icy water felt good against his flushed face.
Derek couldn't remember why he had a headache. He didn't drink, wanting to be sober when he confessed. Okay, maybe there had been a couple of beers to bolster his courage. Because less than a year ago, he'd slept with a friend, Peggy.
Now Sonia.
It hadn't been his fault back then. He'd had too much to drink, and Peggy took advantage of his weakness. Sharon forgave him, but now this mess with Sonia.
Like Peggy, Sonia had seduced him, but Sharon didn't believe him. He had pleaded with her. It wasn't his fault; Sonia tricked him, but Sharon didn't buy it.
Now Sharon was back on the rez with the kids. He thought. Fine! Good riddance to her. One mistake, and she leaves. Okay, two mistakes. Her bitch of a mother was probably happy about that, as she never liked Derek.
Sharon had stood there watching him with her dark, unfathomable eyes. No expression, no incriminations, nothing. Derek knew he was a fool, babbling and begging. But Sharon's stillness scared him, and he wished she would scream at him.
She didn't.
Once he finished his pleading, she turned away and strode to the bedroom, where she locked herself for the rest of the night. Yeah, so he had a few more beers to drown his guilt.
A shadow darkened the cabin, eclipsing the sun. The temperature dropped, and Derek was suddenly freezing. He shuffled to the living room and peered through the window. Dark roiling clouds blotted out the sun, stealing the light. He glanced at his watch, noting it was 7:30 am.
Yet, outside, it looked like it was already evening—the weirdest weather. Derek ambled over to the TV and turned it on, switching to the weather channel. Sunny skies and 115 degrees, then what, he thought, was going on with the weather outside?
The wind picked up, and Derek could hear twigs snapping off the trees. He could see an orangish-brown haze along the horizon. What startled him was the churning top; it looked like a tornado.
That was impossible; Arizona didn't have tornados. Yet, there it was, gaining in size as it loomed towards him. There was a rotating vortex in its center, and the rotating column of sand was on a collision course with the cabin.
He stared in horror as the swirling mass churned closer. Derek whirled around frantically, searching for a hiding place. There wasn't one. He didn't build the cabin with tornados in mind, mainly because Arizona didn't have tornados.
The bathroom was the only location he could think of, and he sprinted to it. He slammed the door shut and climbed into the heavy porcelain tub. Derek heard the whooshing sound of the rising wind as it got closer.
Suddenly, the roof over his head was gone. Nothing between Derek and the roiling mass eating his cabin. He knew he was going to die. In the center of the vortex, a hole opened. A face appeared, forming into features he recognized.
How?
The police couldn't explain Derek's death. A freak weather accident was the closest. Sharon listened as they fumbled for a reason for how Derek died.
The call ended.
She turned to her mother. "Derek is dead." Then she smiled. "Now it's Sonia's turn."