Hiram Grange and the Village of the Damned: The Scandalous Misadventures of Hiram Grange

Hiram Grange and the Village of the Damned: The Scandalous Misadventures of Hiram Grange

Jake Burrows

Language: English

Pages: 86

ISBN: 0981989454

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Something wicked walks the streets of the picturesque New Hampshire village of Great Bay--something that has inexplicably risen from the grave to wreak a horrifying vengeance. Only one man can stop it--provided he can stay sober long enough to answer the call! Hiram Grange and the Village of the Damned introduces readers to the scurrilous boozer and malcontent, Hiram Grange. Though afflicted with a laundry list of dysfunctions, addictions and odd predilections, Hiram Grange stands toe to toe (and sometimes toe to tentacle) with the black-hearted denizens of the Abyss and dispenses justice with the help of his antiquated Webley revolver and Pritchard bayonet. The first of a five part series. Cover and illustrations by Malcolm McClinton, and original woodcut prints by Danny Evarts

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exposed a group of scraggly figures struggling to free themselves from the sand before him. Their faces festered and crawled with insects while filthy clothing and putrid seaweed hung from their broken bodies. They were silent save the growing buzz of countless black-flies, gnats and fleas that teemed over them. One by one they emerged from the sand and shambled towards Hiram. BLAM! The Webley thundered, ripping off the side of a face. Nothing. Hiram fired again and again, blasting away bits

the University of Leiden in Holland and brought Hiram with him. His mother was on the other side of the world, performing at Suntory Hall in Tokyo at what would be her last public performance before the arthritis crippled her. The day before his father was scheduled to give a lecture on “Semitic Mysticism in Assyrian Society,” they hired a car and drove out to the country. Hiram was twelve and wrestling with the awkwardness of adolescence. He was neither a child nor a man, and his pale skin

night had given way to dawn. He had been out for several hours. “He’s alive then,” the first said, in a heavy New Hampshire accent. “Yeah, he’s a bit worse for wear, but alive. Crank her up and we’ll dock at the salt piles in Portsmouth; call ahead and get an ambulance waiting.” Hiram struggled to form words but found his mouth dry from the saltwater. The only sound he could make was a raspy croak. He tried to sit up but pain and dizziness forced him down again. As his head lolled to the side,

with it dozens of cold, grasping hands. Then, from directly behind them, the voice of Reverend Broom: “Fear not, my children, all will be revealed soon.” Hiram walked through the town square, dead locusts crunching under his worn brogues. He held his Webley in his right hand and the Hunter’s Horn in his left as he surveyed the area for clues. The fires that had illuminated the town had been brought under control. A glance towards the church revealed a Great Bay Police cruiser parked out

places of Revolutionary War era privateers, murderers, soldiers, and countless other ruffians, each marked by moss-covered headstones bearing an unusual variety of carvings: skulls, angels, ships, and the ever present compass and square of the Freemasons. Ahhhhh the Freemasons … It was at Sagamore Burying Ground on December 31, 1768 that poor Ruth Blay was hanged for the supposed murder of her child. Though it was later found to have been stillborn, true fact. This was but one of the local

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