#paul hayes

[xdarkestdesirex]

When Faith Meets Juvenile - Chap 2

This is a Dale Holt x reader story. There's no (y/n) insert. I'm just avoiding the use of the reader's name, and it is female-based. There are hints of physical appearance but nothing in-depth.

This writing contains highly sensitive content like violence, drugs, the use of weapons, abuse, mental illness, hostage situations, talk of suicide, religious abuse, smut, and other mature themes. Reader discretion is advised. MUST BE 18+ TO INTERACT.

I do not allow anyone to copy, alter, or repost my work as their own.

1961-word count

prev

As I slammed the door behind me, I expected the house to be empty and everyone to be at church. But there sat my brother in the living room, staring at me. His eyebrows furrowed, and he was tapping his fingers against the armrest. “Where were you?” 

“I, uh, there was an accident.” The anxiety that bubbled inside of my chest was the worst I’d ever felt before, “Are Mom and Dad home?”

“What happened?” He pointed at my leg.

“Some guy accidentally ran into me with his bike. It’s fine, though. He was very kind and helped me.” I slowly hobbled down towards the hallway, hoping to get out of this conversation. 

“You mean Dale Holt?” My brother’s voice sounded behind me. I turned and gave him a confused look, “I saw him in the truck. Do you even know who he is?”

“Why does it matter?” 

“If Dad figured out you were with him, he would lose his shit.”

“Dad won’t figure it out, right?” I know my brother usually sticks up for me with people at school, but when it comes to our parents, he’s the one who gets into trouble. Sometimes, I feel like he would love it if they thought poorly about me. 

“I don’t know. I think Dad would love to hear about his perfect daughter coming home in the truck of a juvenile.” 

“A juvenile?”

“You know, the kid who robbed the liquor store and beat someone half to death.” What my brother said took me by surprise. There was no way the person who did that was Dale. A guy who would beat someone half to death wouldn’t go out of his way to help me like he did. Is that why he said it was for the best? That I didn’t know him? I turned away from my brother and dragged myself into my bedroom. I plopped into bed and winced at the pain in my leg. How was I going to explain this to my parents? I don’t think James will immediately tell them who I was with, but I know they will have questions. Maybe I should have made him drop me off a few houses down. 

I was stirred awake by the soft voice of my mother. It seemed the evening sermon was over, and they were finally back home. The events from earlier had finally caught up with me, making my body sore and my head pound. I couldn’t fully make out what my mom was trying to say to me as I was fighting myself to wake up. Then, from my blurry vision, I could see the figure of my father walking into the room with something in his hand. Suddenly, a jolt of shock shot through my body as my dad threw ice water over me. My body jolted up; all I could do was sit there and stare at my father. For the first time in 17 years, I was witnessing what it was like for your parent to look at you with pure anger. My head hung in shame, and I waited for him to start yelling at me.

“What the hell do you think you were doing!” His voice was sharp.

“I-I-I just wanted to go to the park!” I cried out. Tears started to pour down my cheeks, and I hated myself for how easy it was to cry.

“You’ll never be allowed out on another Sunday again!”

“Daddy, I didn’t-”

“Look at you!” He gestured toward my leg and disheveled appearance. “This happens when you go against your parents and embarrass them!” He slammed his hands down onto my shoulders and pulled me off my bed. “Get her properly dressed!” My father yelled at my mother. My crying turned into wailing. My mom picked out a plain, knee-length, black dress and helped me change into it. My hair was still dripping wet from the water thrown on me. “Shh dear, your crying will only upset him further.” My mother spoke to me. Once I got dressed appropriately, my father dragged me out of the house and shoved me into the passenger seat of the car. “You better get yourself together before I pull up to the hospital. I don’t want anyone seeing you in hysterics like this.” 

The drive to the hospital took about 20 minutes, and I was able to calm myself down just enough. My eyes were red and puffy, and the salt from my tears stained my cheeks, but I wasn’t actively bawling anymore. After my dad parked the car, he got out, approached the passenger side, and opened the door for me. He helped me down and walked me to the emergency entrance. When we entered the building, I wasn’t surprised to only see two other people sitting in the waiting room. Two Rock wasn’t a busy place where people were always getting hurt. Off to the side of the entrance were wheelchairs lined up like grocery carts. My dad grabbed one and motioned for me to sit, so I did that. He wheeled me to a window where, behind the glass, an older lady sat. 

“How may I help you?” She said, staring at us with blank eyes and a monotone voice. 

My dad explained that I had injured myself badly and needed to get my leg looked at. He told the lady my brother and I had gone out and that I fell down a hill, hitting a rock and slicing my leg open. I wasn’t sure how he knew my leg was sliced open, but I guess it couldn’t be hard to guess, especially now that I’m looking at the bandaging. A bit of blood was starting to seep through. 

Once my dad gave the pepper-haired lady our information, we sat in the waiting room. A nurse opened the door a few minutes later and called my name. The other two patients groaned as I was called before them, even though they were here first. My father pushed me behind the nurse as we followed her into an exam room. She asked me a few questions about my health and what was happening as she took my basic vitals. She left the room and informed us that the doctor would arrive soon. A knock sounded on the door right before it swung open. A man in his late thirties walked in wearing a long white lab coat and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He looked like he was trying hard to be a stereotypical doctor. We reviewed the events of what happened again, and he asked a few of the same questions the nurse had asked. 

“Alright, I’m going to undress your wound and look at what’s happening.” The doctor slid a pair of gloves onto his hands and started unwrapping the medical tape. Once all the dressing was off, he threw them into a biohazard bag. He grabbed a new piece of gauze and started dabbing around the cut. “Whoever cleaned and dressed this did a good job.” 

“It was her brother.” My father said.

I just sat there quietly, thinking about the brunette-haired boy kneeling before me as he carefully took care of my injury. I wonder what he was up to tonight? Would he tell his family about me and what happened? I doubt he would, but they probably wouldn’t crucify him the way my father did me. 

“So you got this injury falling down a hill?” The doctor asks.

“Yeah, I’m a bit clumsy,” I said, feigning stupidity.

“I’m going to clean your cut again, numb the area, and then give you a few stitches.” 

I just started at the beige wall while the doctor did his thing. Once he finished, he wrapped my leg up and handed my dad a prescription to help with any pain I might feel. My father pushed me back to the car in the wheelchair and helped me up into the passenger seat. The drive back home was completely silent. 

Dales POV 

“Dale?” Her sweet voice sounded out.

“Yeah?” My voice came out breathy and quiet. 

“I’d like to see you again someday.” The words that she said caught me entirely off guard. I wasn’t expecting her to say that. I stared at her face momentarily before a slight smirk grew on my lips. “I would like that too, Doll.” 

I watched her close the truck door and made sure she could make it to the door before I pulled out of her driveway. Driving back to the farm, I kept replaying everything that happened. I recently got released from juvie and felt cooped up. So, I decided to steal Jay’s bike and ride around town. Feel the warm breeze on my skin as I fly down the road. Not many people come out to the park near my house, so I headed that way; I wanted to be somewhere alone. Then, this girl was there, and I was slightly curious to see what kind of girl would be out here. I wasn’t trying to run into her, but wanted to get close and start a conversation. Nothing happened as I tried to stop the bike, so I yelled out to her but crashed into the poor girl anyway. 

What an idiot, I thought while thinking back to it, but I still smiled at the whole interaction. She was a cute girl, and I knew right away that she wasn’t someone from this part of town, but it did surprise me to find out that she was the priest’s daughter. At Two Rock High, a lot of the guys I hung out with before I dropped out would talk about how they wanted to ‘corrupt’ the innocent princess and would go into detail about the nasty shit they wanted to do to her. My mind might be fucked up, but if there’s one thing my Ma taught me, it was to treat a girl with respect.

I pulled up and parked the truck by the side of the house. A deep sigh escaped my lips, and I ran my fingers through my hair. She probably judged me so hard on my home compared to hers. I don’t think we’ll ever meet again. It was a fluke in the universe that our paths crossed. I slid out of the truck and made my way up the steps to the front of the house. I could hear my Ma yelling from the inside and prepared myself to walk into whatever was happening behind the door. 

“How often do I have to tell you boys not to bring animals in the house if they’re dripping blood!” 

“Quit yelling at me! We didn’t even bring any animals home today!” Pa spat back. 

“Then how do you explain this!” My Ma pointed at the blood drops on the ground. My eyes drifted to see small blood drops trailing to the bathroom. They had to have happened earlier. The blood was dripping down her leg.  “And where were you?” Ma spoke to me sternly.

“Out,” I answered.

“Damn it, Dale, you’re supposed to stay home.” 

“Don’t worry, Ma. I wasn’t getting into any fights.” I grabbed an apple from the middle of the table and headed into my shared bedroom. 

“You don’t leave this house alone, ya hear me!” She yelled from the kitchen.

My younger brother, Jay, was lying on his bed in the corner with his headphones covering his ears and flipping through one of the few comic books he owned. He didn’t notice as I flopped onto my bed opposite his and smiled at the ceiling like a dork. It’s too bad that would be the first and last time I ever saw her.

next

AN:

Hey guys! I know this chapter is shorter; there will be a few short chapters, but most will be longer! I was listening to a song earlier today that gave me better ideas for the story (hehe) so I'm excited to write them and have y'all read it! Reader and Dale's story is going to be a rollercoaster! You get to experience life with him before the robbery, and don't worry everything will lead up to that point!

[hajimehinata]

hi folks! sorry for the delay on adf august, and my apologies for not using the official @adfaugust blog! i lost my login and i haven't had the time to come up with a long list. hence, we'll be hosting an adf august week this summer! as always, feel free to tag your works as #adfaugust2024! please check below the cut for a plain text version of the prompts:

august 18: daylight / trauma

august 19: paradise / pizza

august 20: hunter / open road

august 21: deal / debt

august 22: pig / phone call

august 23: strawberry / sinners

august 24: smoke / want

[andonutty]

tag yourself i'm slow as usual

[adfaugust]

In light of the one-year anniversary of Interior Night's As Dusk Falls, here is the first-ever AS DUSK FALLS AUGUST! Throughout the month of August 2023, feel free to create fan content (fics, fanart, or anything else your heart desires) with these prompts as a guide. Please mention this blog in your works and tag your works as #adfaugust2023 if you'd like to be featured!

A text version of these prompts is under the cut.

Aug 1: motel Aug 2: safe Aug 3: secret Aug 4: shotgun Aug 5: sacrifice Aug 6: cheat Aug 7: instinct Aug 8: crossroads Aug 9: wound Aug 10: decade Aug 11: memory Aug 12: cabin Aug 13: watch Aug 14: pool Aug 15: nightfall Aug 16: breath Aug 17: blaze Aug 18: trigger Aug 19: family Aug 20: cancer Aug 21: forgive Aug 22: tree Aug 23: trailer Aug 24: burial Aug 25: escape Aug 26: joke Aug 27: bullet Aug 28: betrayal Aug 29: flight Aug 30: fight Aug 31: dream

[radiofreeskaro]

Radio Free Skaro #920 - The Canadian Mafia

Radio Free Skaro #920 - The Canadian Mafia - Interview with Paul Hayes (@the_questmaster) about "Pull To Open"! - #DoctorWho production news!

http://traffic.libsyn.com/freyburg/rfs920.mp3 Download MP3 A new era of action dollies is upon us with more Daleks, Colin Baker with a new coat and and AND a Richard Hurndall dolly for all you devoted Hurndallists to enjoy (pineapple not included)! There’s also Blu-Ray uprez news, pointless banter about Supermen and 90s classic(?) film Hackers, Cutaway Comics releases and the main feature, an…

[thedoctorwhocompanion]

Coming Soon: Pull to Open, the Inside Story of How the BBC Created and Launched Doctor Who

Coming Soon: Pull to Open, the Inside Story of How the BBC Created and Launched #DoctorWho (by @the_questmaster)

Following on from his excellent The Long Game, Paul Hayes has written a new book, Pull to Open, retelling the origins of Doctor Who. While The Long Game told the story of how Doctor Who returning to screens in 2005, Pull to Open, takes us all the way back to 1963 and 1964, which saw the show beginning, and iconic elements like the TARDIS (duh) and the Daleks introduced. Here’s the blurb: When…

[atomic-chronoscaph]

From Hell It Came (1957)

[bttrflyblu]

ANOTHER LOVE - Gemma Hayes (ft. Paul Noonan)

[dynamitekansai]

BEHIND THE SCENES OF THE 2024 ROYAL RUMBLE

[erstwhile-punk-guerito]

[honeyjars-sims]

Episode 32: Big Moments

The last few months of Paul's freshman year at Foxbury were a time of self-discovery and authenticity.

After he’d broken things off with Jamie, Paul felt free to start exploring his sexuality. He started thinking about how motivated he’d been at the beginning of the year to find someone to settle down with. Now he realized he needed to get to know himself better before he committed himself to one person.

As for Thornton, Paul got over that crush pretty quickly and he was glad to no longer be involved in the drama between Thornton, Morgana, and Jamie which seemed to never end. He remained casually friendly with them, but he mostly hung around with Danica, Wesley, and Nasir.

He also started getting to know Deshawn a little better, who it turned out was crushing on him in high school as well. But getting to know himself wasn't the only thing he wanted to do that year. He also wanted to come out to his family.

Paul was relieved to find out that everyone in his family was accepting of his bisexuality. Having the support of his friends and family made their bonds grow stronger. He was grateful to approach his sophomore year without the burden of being closeted holding him down.

Previous | Beginning | Next

[xdarkestdesirex]

When Faith Meets Juvenile - Chap 1

This is a Dale Holt x reader story. There's no (y/n) insert. I'm just avoiding the use of the reader's name and it is female-based. There are hints of physical appearance, but nothing in-depth.

This writing contains highly sensitive content like violence, drugs, the use of weapons, abuse, mental illness, hostage situations, talk of suicide, religious abuse, smut, and other mature themes. Reader discretion is advised. MUST BE 18+ TO INTERACT.

I do not allow anyone to copy, alter, or repost my work as their own.

3767-word count

Growing up in Two Rock comes with a lot of nothing. The scenery is brown dirt, cactuses, and hills. The sun beats down directly on people, leaving them crisp with a bit of heat stroke. Some kids figured out how to make their childhood entertaining, but it wasn’t an option for me. My father is a well-respected pastor at the Two Rock Chapel, and my family and onlookers expected me to be well-behaved. I was, for the most part, until I met a boy. He changed my life forever, and I’ll never forget what happened.

“Jesus said, ‘I will come and heal him.’” My father’s deep and authoritative voice flooded the churchgoer’s ears as he paced the stage. I sat front and center. So my dad could keep an eye on me and for everyone to see how disciplined I was. My mother looked perfectly prim and proper to the right of me, and my older brother was to the left, wearing a suit with his hair gelled back nicely. I wore a pale blue dress that went up to my neck with a white collar and short sleeves that puffed out. The dress was cinched at my waist to show off my healthy physique (my mother says it’s good to show off without showing skin), and the dress’s bottom belled out past my knees. I wore sheer tights underneath with heels to match. My hair was pulled into a sleek pony, and I was accented with pearl earrings and a necklace. Only the lightest touch of makeup was applied to my face to accentuate my features, but not enough to be called a whore. 

My bible was open and sitting in my lap. Like always, I followed the sermon my father was teaching. I had a notebook open and was writing down thoughts and questions that popped up. As a preacher’s daughter, I was meant to lead by example, but I wasn’t doing this for them or to be a good child for my parents. I was doing this for me. My faith has always been important to me, and damn it, I am a good kid. Sometimes, I wish I had a rebellious bone in me, like my brother, who secretly sneaks out of the house to do God knows what. One night, I followed him, but he caught me within 10 minutes and dragged me back to the house. He told me I shouldn’t ruin my innocence, that once I tasted the bad things in the world, I could never get it back. 

“I ask that some of our worship members join me on the stage as I close us out this morning,” My father’s voice became soft, “You may bow your heads and close your eyes.” My back slumps over as I droop toward my lap, and my eyes flutter close. The sound of a piano starts to float around me, and a woman’s voice begins to sing quietly.

“Amazing love, how can it be? That you, my King, would die for me?” 

My father spoke above the singing, asking if anyone in the crowd didn’t know God and wanted to get to know Him, to raise their hands, and that someone would join them to pray. People were slowly leaving their seats, going to the altar, and sitting on the ground to pray. My brother slowly slid out of his seat, sat at the end of the stage, leaning the top half of his body over it, and began praying. My mother tapped my knee as if to say I needed to join the others who were kneeling. I walked up to where my brother was and sat on the ground behind him, making sure my dress was tucked neatly under my legs and bowed my head into my lap.  

When the service ended, I was greeted by people praising me for my well-behaved manners and asking what kind of things I’d done so far over the summer. I indulged in conversation and made small talk while waiting for everyone to filter out. The heat was rising in the building, and I could feel my dress sticking to my back. Once the last person left, my family was also free to leave. Usually, after church, we go out to eat for lunch and spend the day together until evening, when the second sermon of the day starts. Yes, you must think we’re crazy for having church twice on Sundays, but that’s how we do it here. But today, I didn’t feel like going out; it would be extra hot, and I wanted to go home and get out of this stuffy dress.

“Daddy, could you drop me off at the house? I promised Nelly I would return her book this afternoon.” I asked my dad as we all got into the car.

“Can’t you do that after we eat?” He looked back at me through the review mirror.

“I’m not very hungry,” I pause, “I was hoping I could stay at her place for a little so we could talk about the book together.” It wasn’t a lie; I said I could probably bring the book sometime today, but I don’t plan to stay long at her house. I just wanted time to be by myself for a while. 

“Honey, it’s family day.” My mom states. 

“I know, bu-” 

“Oh, come on, it’s not like her to ask to hang out with friends often. Why don’t you just let her go.” My brother pipes up from beside me. I was shocked for him to come to my rescue; he protects me often but doesn’t usually go out of his way to help me with our parents.

“James is right. I think it’ll be okay, just this once, to miss a family day.” My dad speaks. A bright smile appears on my face, and I thank my father for letting me have this day. I glance at my brother with a silent thank you as well. 

As we pulled up to our house in Big Oak Neighborhood, I promised my dad I’d be back in time for church tonight and wave goodbye as they set off to some restaurant. As I enter the house, my shoulders instantly relax as the cold air hits me. I unbutton the collar of my dress as I walk down the hallway toward my bedroom. Once in my room, I kick my heels into some random corner, rip the dress over my head, and toss it to the floor. I lay on my bed for a few minutes in my undergarments, letting the cold air kiss my sticky skin. When I finally get up from my bed, I pick out a pair of short overalls that hit just above my midthigh, the shortest thing I was allowed to wear, and a plain white tee to go underneath. I put on a pair of socks and sneakers and redid my hair into a slightly messy braid. I grabbed my tote bag and put Nelly’s book inside, along with my journal. 

I entered the kitchen and grabbed the necessary things to make a sandwich: bread, mayo, meat, cheese, pickles, you know, the works. Once put together, I put the sandwich into a paper bag and then stuffed it into my tote bag. I grabbed a few more snacks from the pantry, filled my water bottle, and headed out the door. It was peak sunrise in Arizona, and the heat was hitting a hundred degrees. The sun hit the sidewalk’s concrete, bouncing up and blinding me. I squinted as I walked past the houses on my street and turned down Ranger Rd. The third house on the left belonged to Nelly. I approached the front door and knocked my knuckles against the wood. A few minutes passed, and I heard a few voices exchanged back and forth before the door swung open. 

“Hey!” Nelly’s giant smile greeted me.

“Hi, sorry to intrude. I was just stopping by to drop your book off.” I reached into my bag and pulled the book out.

“You finished it already?” She looked shocked as she reached out to grab the book from my hands.

“Yeah, I just spent a whole day reading it, which wasn’t hard since it was a good book.”

“Did you want to come inside and talk about it for a while?” Nelly’s body slid to the side, revealing I was okay coming in. 

“Oh, no, sorry, I have to get back home. It’s Sunday, so I have to be with my family. I was just allowed to stop by and drop the book off.” 

“No worries! We can get together another time to discuss the book!” Nelly said as she closed the door.

I walked, about an hour, in the direction of a park, a place I’ve gone to a few times when needing space from others. Usually, I would tell my parents I was studying at the library, but with it being summer, I couldn’t use that excuse. I found a wooden bench seat in the shade and made myself comfortable. Inside my tote bag was my MP3 player, so I took my headphones out and placed them over my ears, letting my music drown out everything around me. I pulled out my journal and pen and began writing about everything I felt. This journal was my deepest and darkest thoughts, and if anyone got a hold of it, I would be in deep shit. 

After a few hours, I had eaten all my food, and my water was almost gone. I decided it was time to leave. Collecting all my things and putting them back into my bag, I headed home.

“Watch out!” A voice behind me yelled out as I was about to cross the road. The next thing I knew, something slammed into my back, sending me flying to the ground, and a heavy weight landed on top of me.

“Ah, shit.” The gruff male voice said. Then, the heavy weight that was pinning me down lifted. I turned around to look up at what had hit me to see a figure towering over me. The sun was behind the guy who ran into me, making him look like a silhouette. “Are you okay?” He asked me.

“I-I’m fine.” I tried to push myself back on my feet, but once I put weight onto my left leg, I collapsed. I expected my body to meet the asphalt again, but instead, a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist. When I looked at the guy this time, I could see his features. Short brown hair that was messed up from the crash, piercing blue eyes creased with worry, and a face shaped like God had carefully pieced him together. Suddenly, I forgot I was hurt and found myself staring at this guy with my mouth agape and speechless. He was a bit rugged-looking, but that made him more attractive in my eyes. A slight smirk appeared after what felt like forever of just looking at his face.

“You like what you see?” His statement ripped me out of my daze. A cough erupted from my throat, and the heat rose to my cheeks. 

“N-no,” I stuttered, “Just confused about how you crashed into me.”

“I tried to stop, but the brakes on my bike weren’t working.” 

“Could you help me stand?” He was holding me in a dip position, like we were dancing, from catching me. His face was only inches away from mine. It was the closest I’ve ever been with a male. I’d never been embraced by one before; having his arms around me was weird, but I also didn’t want him to let go of me. I felt strange for thinking this way. I mean, I didn’t even know who this guy was! He could be a murderer for all I know. 

"Ah, fuck.” The brunette cussed, “Your leg is messed up pretty good.” His crystal eyes darted around the park, looking for something, like he was worried someone would see us. The smirk that once sat across his face turned into a hard line, and his eyebrows furrowed together. I looked down to see what he was looking at. There was a large gash from the center of my shin down to my ankle, and blood was dripping down, staining my shoelaces red.

“How far do you live?” He asked me.

“I live in Big Oak Neighborhood.” 

“Why the fuck are you over here?”

“I like this park, it’s quiet.”

“You know this part of Two Rock is the trashy side, right?” 

I rolled my eyes at the guy, “I think I’ll be fine to walk back.” I tried to pry his arms off from around me, but he was way too strong. 

“Yeah, I don’t think you can walk that far.” His grip around me tightened, “My house is around the corner. I can patch you up and then drive you home.” 

He helped me sit back on the warm ground as he picked the bike up. His blue eyes scanned the black metal and wheels. Once pleased with what he saw, he helped me situate myself on the bike. I rested my hands on the handles and set my feet on the pegs of the wheel in front of me. His muscular arms reached around my sides, and he placed his hands next to mine. Slowly, he started pushing me away from the park. It took us about ten minutes to reach a brown fence, and a small house with a porch was not too far away. It was the kind of home that seemed cozy. I always dreamed of living out in the country. My home back in Big Oak was your typical suburban house. It looked identical to the ones around; the grass was green, and we even had a white picket fence. I know I should be thankful for where I live; not many people have the life I do, but I still wish things were different for me. 

Once we got to the porch, he stopped the bike and helped me off it. I felt terrible that he was going out of his way to do all this for me. Yes, he ran into me, and I wouldn’t be injured if it wasn’t for him, but he didn’t need to help me in the way he was doing. Slowly, we made our way up the steps of the porch. His strong arm wrapped around me, pulling me tight into his side as I hopped up each step on my good leg. We entered the house, down a small hallway, and entered a tiny bathroom. Without warning, I was lifted off the ground and placed on the sink counter. A yelp escaped my lips, and I gripped the male’s shoulders in front of me. He stared back at me with the same smirk from earlier.

“I’m tempted to make you yelp like that again.” His voice was low and husky as he spoke. I wasn’t fully aware of what he meant by that, but my body still reacted anyway. Goosebumps erupted on my skin, and my face burnt with embarrassment. He stood there with his arms beside me, his face inched closer to mine, stopping a breath away from my lips. I had just met this guy, and yet I wasn’t going to stop him. But he pushed away and started rummaging through the cupboards. I watched how his face looked as he focused on grabbing whatever supplies he needed. His face relaxed into its natural state, with soft eyes, his lips pursed only slightly, and his hair fell forward onto his forehead. When he got everything, he turned the faucet on and waited for the water to warm. 

“I’m going to clean up the area around your wound. This won’t hurt too bad, but I will disinfect the wound immediately after, which stings a little.” I nodded my head and watched him as he knelt to get level with my leg. As he wiped away the blood that covered my leg, he was gentle, not to hurt me. With most of the blood gone, I could see what the gash looked like, and it seemed I would probably need some stitches. He then grabbed a bottle and took the lid off. 

“Alright, this isn’t the fun part.” He said pouring the liquid right over my wound. 

“Fuck!” I yelled and instinctively covered my mouth. It hurt a lot more than he was explaining. 

“Sorry, Doll, it needs to be cleaned.”  He waited awhile for the liquid to do its thing before pressing some soft gauze against my gash and wrapping it with medical tape. He stood back up and placed himself between my legs. “You’re all patched up now.” 

“T-thank you.” I kept my gaze on the ground because I knew if I looked up at him, I would become even more of a stuttering mess. 

“I guess it’s time I drive you home.” He gripped my hips and helped me slide off the counter. If my dad knew a male was touching me in the manner this guy is, he would lose his shit. 

“What time is it anyway?”

“Around 5 o’clock.” 

“What!? You have to get me home now!” I tried to hobble out of the bathroom, which only caused the male behind me to laugh. 

“You look like a deer trying to walk for the first time.” He said as he watched me from the bathroom as I grabbed onto things around me to stay steady. “What’s the rush anyways? You have a curfew?” 

“Yes! My parents are going to kill me. I should’ve been home an hour ago!” 

“Woah, don’t get your panties in a twist. You’re a teenager. What else are they expecting? This shit is normal.” 

“Not in my household, and not on a Sunday.” Confusedly, He looked at me, “My dad is the pastor at Two Rock Chapel. I’m expected to be perfect and well-behaved. I wasn’t even supposed to be out this way. I lied and said I was going to a friend. I’m going to be in deep shit.”

“Wait, you’re the preacher’s daughter?” His blue eyes opened wide at this information. “You’re like Two Rock’s most innocent princess.” 

“Huh?” I grabbed the chair in front of me to balance myself, “People talk about me?” 

“It’s Two Rock, Doll. Everyone talks about everyone.” He made his way over to me, “Here, let me help you.” One arm reached around my side to help support me once again. 

“Oh yeah? Then who are you?” I asked, looking up at the handsome stranger. 

“I’m Dale, Dale Holt.” 

“Holt? Dale Holt?” The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d heard it before.

“You might’ve seen me in the papers. I’m pretty famous around here.” 

“Oh really? I didn’t know I was in the presence of a celebrity.” A chuckle fell through his lips, and the feeling of warmness flooded through me.

“It’s probably for the best you don’t know who I am.” Again, his face turned serious. There was something dark and lonely hiding behind his eyes. I wanted to ask him why it was for the best that I didn’t know who he was, but I knew it wasn’t my place to pry, especially with someone I just met. 

Once in the truck, I instructed Dale on how to get to my house. He slowly drove while looking at all the homes we passed. When something was interesting or cool, he would point it out and say they should add it to their farm. I could sense the want from him to be someone living behind these walls, to live the life that I have. That was the first time my heart stopped. Watching him stare out the window and play out what could be if he were a resident here. We didn’t discuss our similarities in wanting what the other had, but I could feel it from him. And in that moment, I had never felt more connected to someone else before. It was odd to connect without any interaction, but something within me stirred. He seemed to have felt the same feeling cause his head turned slowly to look at me, and we locked eyes for what felt like an eternity. We understood each other. Finally, a person, completely different from the other, felt what we felt. 

He ripped his eyes from mine and said, “Do you want me to drop you down a few houses?”

“You can pull up to my house.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t want anyone thinking bad about you for being with me.” His eyes drifted down to the floorboard.

“Why would anyone think badly about that?”

“I’m not the type of guy your church people approve of.”

“Well, it’s none of their business. You may have been the reason I got injured, but you helped me. So thank you.” I flashed him a small smile, “If it makes you feel better, my parents are probably already at the church since my dad has to set up for the sermon.” He did as I said and pulled into my driveway, and just like I suspected, the family car was gone. 

“I’m sorry for your leg,” Dale spoke in a low tone.

“It’s okay. You helped me a lot today, and I really appreciate it. Thank you, seriously.” I went to open the door, but before I could get out, I felt his strong hand wrap around my arm again.

“Can you walk to the door?”

“I think I can manage this one.” He released my wrist, and I slowly lowered myself out of the truck. “Dale?”

“Yeah?” 

“I’d like to see you again someday.”

“I would like that too, Doll.” 

I closed the truck door and slowly limped to the door of my house. A stupid smile plastered on my face as I opened the door and walked inside. The sound of his truck driving away off in the distance. 

Dale Holt. The guy that changed my life forever.

next

AN:

Hey guys! I hope you liked this first chapter! I'm not the best writer in the world, but I hope you enjoy reading this. I will try to get chapters out fairly frequently, but I work 2 jobs and can get pretty busy. So please be patient with me! Please let me know if you see any errors so I can fix them! I do use editing software, but only some things get caught. I want everyone to know that some experiences the reader has are things I've dealt with personally (and so have others), so please be kind in the comments when talking about any of the serious situations!

[hajimehinata]

as dusk falls + text posts    

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 10, Number 10

The Ex

October closes with a macabre flourish — blackened gardens, elaborate yard displays of skeletons, Halloween, the day of the dead, a terrifying American election.  We music lovers react in various ways, some turning to darker, more ominous musical textures, others seeking solace and distraction, still others ignoring the backdrop completely and listening to what they would listen to anyway.  And so, we gather another wide-ranging dust, spanning sounds inspired by a Bolivian earthquake, pogo-friendly snappy jangle, a crust supergroup, a celebration of the Ex’s 45 years in music, and much more.  This month’s contributors include Jennifer Kelly, Bryon Hayes, Bill Meyer, Jonathan Shaw, Christian Carey, Ray Garraty, Tim Clarke and Ian Mathers. 

Alma Laprida — Pitch Dark and Trembling (Outside Time)

Alma Laprida is an experimental artist and musician from Argentina, here playing a medieval stringed instrument—the tromba marina—through a 21st century array of effects pedals and an 18-inch subwoofer. The instrument, with its yards-long strings and vibrating bridge, is, by itself, capable of unusual sounds. Its natural timbre hovers between a cello and a trumpet. But fed through Laprida’s electronic rig, the sound turns harsh and ominous, blistering and dissolving into tones so low you feel rather than hear them. This album comes from a live performance at Bard College in 2023, taking as its subject Laprida’s experiences during an earthquake in Bolivia. In the long, “Trembling,” low, sustained vibrations make the air tremble, while trebly, metallic sounds skitter and rattle, like pots and pans clattering in the shock. A clock ticks in the foreground, steady on top of roiling, shifting undercurrents. “Vibra,” the other lengthy track, looses then subdues the tromba’s brassy sound, letting the echoes linger for long, not-quite-empty minutes. A corrosive blare interrupts, a foghorn in a world of mists and uncertainty, then clear string tones and its scratching echoes. Pitch Dark and Trembling distills an ambient unease into sound.

Jennifer Kelly

Artificial Go — Hopscotch Fever (Feel It / Future Shock)

This Cincinnati quartet produce a short, sharp brand of post-punk that induces spontaneous pogoing. Hopscotch Fever is Artificial Go’s debut, but it could easily be mistaken for an unearthed gem from late-1970s England with its snappy rhythms and chiming, angular guitars. Vocalist Angie Wilcutt (Corker) adopts an English accent as she sings charmingly, her lyrics unfolding in an energy-filled stream of consciousness that keeps pace with the bouncy backbeat of songs like “Payphone,” “Aphrodisiac,” and the band’s calling card “Artificial Go.” Cole Gilfilen (Corker, The Drin), Micah Wu, and Claudio Thornburgh round out the band’s lineup. Like a game of hopscotch, their churning jangle is a lot of fun but comes to a halt far too quickly. Hopscotch Fever is full of earworms. Its effervescent spirit lingers in our brains long after the music stops.  

Bryon Hayes

Black Toska—The Orphan (Self-Release)

The Madrileño goth punks in Black Toska return with six more haunted, synth-swathed, night visions, revisiting a sound Dusted described in early 2023 as “like John Spencer without all the arch theatricality or Rocket 808 in less of a growl and more of a croon.” If anything The Orphan is even more ominous than Dandelion was, with corrosive guitar sound tripping a hole in “Little Dead Bird” and a fever-dream unease percolating through “The Only Thing We Need.” The best cut is the title track, intimating baroque dangers its flowers-of-evil flare of wah wah and mannered vocal melody. “Who can steal a baby?” asks Victor Garcia, his elegant, jaded voice hemmed in by wild surges of electrified dissonance, as you’re left to consider that bad things—and compelling music—flourish in the shadows.

Jennifer Kelly

Paul Bryan — Western Electric (Paul Bryan Music)

The title might cue you to ponder your power situation, but the intent is more oblique. Bassist-programmer-producer Paul Bryan took Sonny Rollins’ Way Out West, an exercise in restriction that happened to open doors of conceptual opportunity for everyone who was feeling confined by the piano’s roll as the chord cop of bebop. But Bryan, whose cv. includes production and arrangement work with Jeff Parker, Josh Johnson, and Aimee Mann, is a plugged-in kind of guy, so his restriction involved writing the material on a little Yamaha keyboard and recording it with a trio comprising Jay Belleroe on drums and Josh Johnson on alto sax. Since you can’t completely separate a studio dude from his gear, there’s some processing and programmed drum, which results in the album having a soft jazz-funk feel that is uncluttered, but hardly minimal. Western Electric is the answer to a question that few might ask; what if you subtracted the guitar and the layered production from Jeff Parker’s New Breed?

Bill Meyer

CPC Gangbangs — Roadhouse (Slovenly)

CPC Gangbangs is back after a long hiatus and not a bit tamed. The Montreal garage punks with ties to Les Sexareenos and Spaceshit flared out in 2007 and reappeared (some of them) as Red Mass. But 17 years later and without explanation, they bash and slam and clatter again, serving up two covers and one original, all flayed and confrontational like it’s the rock-is-back aughts all over again. CPC Gangbangs jack up Louisiana swamp rock “Going Back to Philly” on agitated city-boy jitters. They blast through “Rock ‘n Roll Enemy #1” from the SF proto-punks Crime with furious intent. They haunt Bo Diddley’s grave site with a rackety beat in “Roadhouse.” It’s referential but never reverent, well-informed but never studious, good stuff.

Jennifer Kelly

Deadform — Entrenched in Hell (Tankcrimes)

Sort of stupid to reference the notion of “supergroup” in relation to a subgenre as witheringly anti-commercial as crust, but Deadform hits all the right notes, as it were: three dudes who have Oakland’s concrete ground into their bodies, and who have played crucial roles in bands as storied as Dystopia, Stormcrow and Laudanum. Dino Sommese (of Dystopia, and also Noothgrush and Ghoul) has the most recognizable name, for listeners beyond the Bay Area and outside of crust’s stinky, dirty milieu, and he pounds the skins and hollers with energy belying his 50-some-odd years. But all the players (including Brian Clouse and Judd Hawk) are all in. Entrenched in Hell doesn’t move beyond crust’s characteristic properties: lotsa nasty metal-tinged guitar parts, some sludgy yuck clotting up the bloodstream, the smell of filthy dreadlocks, and so on. It’s a heavy record, the second half of which hits especially hard. Check out “Peacekeeper” and especially “Fetid Breath.” Then pick yourself up off the dank floor of whatever squat you passed out in and play the tunes again.

Jonathan Shaw

Efterklang — Things We Have in Common (City Slang)

Danish post-rock band Efterklang has been releasing recordings for 20 years, as well as producing an opera in 2015 and making music through core members’ side projects. Things We Have in Common is the culmination of a trio of albums, beginning with Altid Sammen (2017) and continuing with Windflowers (2021). This time out, the group doesn’t eschew its characteristic experimentation, but several of the songs evince a gentle, art pop vibe, particularly “Plant” on which singer/cellist Mabe Fratti guests, “Getting Reminders,” with Beirut and “Animated Heart,” featuring the choir Sønderjysk Pigekor. Efterklang on its own is persuasive too. “Shelf Break” has an artful use of vocoder against oscillating synths and abundantly syncopated percussion. “Leave It All Behind” combines whispered vocals, keyboard arpeggiations, sustained sine tones and a drum thwack on alternating beats. Taken as part of the trio of recordings, Things We Have in Common is its hopeful conclusion.

Christian Carey

The Ex — Great! / The Evidence (Ex Records)

In 2024, the Ex are celebrating their 45th year by putting out their first new music in six years. It’s just two songs on a 45-rpm record (although they’re also throwing a celebratory shindig in Amsterdam and Mechelen late in November). Not many bands last 45 years, and of those that do, it’s pretty rare for them to put out work you’d want to hear as much as the songs that first drew you into their camp. The Ex are not a common band. The quartet of Terrie Hessels, Andy Moor, Arnold de Boer, and Katherina Bornefeld are still engaged with the moment; the words to these two song address current realities with a combination of elliptical expression and blunt veracity. They’re still engaged with each other, locking into these tough, intricate, but fat-free tunes with combustible chemistry intact. And they’re still tuned into the joy and outrage that’s infused their work across four and a half decades. That’s pretty rare.

Bill Meyer

Jill Fraser— Earthly Pleasures (Drag City)

Electronic composer Jill Fraser has been making music for commercials and films, as well as performing New Age pieces live, since the 1970s. Earthly Pleasures is her first album release in a while. It demonstrates her versatility with vintage gear such as the 1978 Serge Modular synth and newer resources such as Ableton Push 3. “When We Get to Heaven” is a ten-minute long track that uses these resources to make a diaphanously appealing arrangement. “Amen 1” and “Amen 2” are more aphoristic, the first with clouds of harmony and a sci-fi sounding ascent, the second with sparking bell timbres, oscillating percussion, sampled voices, and a fluid keyboard part. Earthly Pleasures closes with “I Stand Amazed,” with trebly, widely spaced synths. Fraser has suggested that the theme of this album is, “What happens to our music when we die?” History suggests that mileage varies, but while she is earthbound, one hopes Fraser has more recordings to share.

Christian Carey

Häxenzijrkell — Portal (Amor Fati)

German maestros of bummer black metal Häxenzijrkell are back with another slab of downtempo musical maelstroms, engineered to drag you into a terrible, soul crushing void. That description and the band’s sonic profile sound a lot like blackened doom, but somehow the music on Portal scans as straight-up black metal — at least to this reviewer’s ears. The best tracks are at the end of the record: “Assiah” and “Aeon” drone, churn and distend like the effects of some of that legendary brown acid, which we aren’t supposed to eat. There’s nothing especially lysergic (to invoke that too-trivially used term) about the textures or production of Portal. It’s more the nightmarishness of the tunes, the mechanical edges on the band’s sound, the taste of something metallic at the back of the tongue — all that stuff accumulates, alongside the deliberate, glacial progress of the songs. Soon that glistening, awful wall of ice looms over you. You can see your face on its glassy surface. You know it’s a bad idea to stare, but you can’t help yourself. It’s excruciating. It’s entrancing. You are through the Portal.

Jonathan Shaw

Boldy James & Harry Fraud — The Bricktionary (Boldy James / SRFSCHL)

The Bricktionary is the fourth Boldy James’ tape this year and apparently not the final one. The producer Harry Fraud has also been too busy lately, spreading himself too thin. The good news is that Boldy is good even on generic beats (probably half of his output has been on some unknown guys’ production). It’s the kind of street music which never forgets that it’s an art and not a report card. The best track here is “Shadowboxing.”

Ray Garraty

Danny Kamins — Retainer (Sound Holes)

“Solo Horn,” declares the J-card art, and it does not lie. This tape presents Texan Danny Kamins playing sopranino and baritone saxophones at home, alone. It would appear that he spent his lockdown time developing his circular breathing. On the small horn, his examinations of patterns that subtly vary and throw off flurries of orbiting overtones feels like an homage to Evan Parker’ solo soprano work. Parker got there first with such authority that he has made it hard for other people to do it and not simply sound like him. Kamins sounds great but doesn’t quite overcome the challenge of differentiation. The baritone is another matter. Kamins sculpts massive ribbons of tunneling, rippling sound to consistently compelling effect.

Bill Meyer

Seiji Murayama / Jean-Luc Guionnet — Balcony Inside (Ftarri)

Multi-instrumentalist, graphic artist, composer, improviser, film-maker, etc.; Jean-Luc Guionnet is a confirmed polymath. On Balcony Inside he and frequent collaborator Suijiro Murayama perform a duet for church organ (Guionnet) and snare drum, cymbal and voice (Muriyama). But it might be more accurate to say that they play with space. There’s the apparently capacious interior of the Taborkirche, which Guionnet represents with massive chords that beat against the walls. And there’s the space inside your head, which is likely to be rearranged by Muriyama’s horror-movie-victim cries and emphatic, elastically rhythmic beats. A seasonal suggestion: pipe this music loudly out of your house on Halloween, and keep a tally of how many are drawn by these massive sounds and how many avoid your house.

Bill Meyer

The Necks — Bleed (Northern Spy)

It’s impossible to guess where The Necks might head next, whether live or on record. Their new album, Bleed,is a single 42-minute track that unfolds patiently in an episodic fashion. There are no conventional rhythms from Tony Buck; instead, he punctuates the space with chimes, bowed cymbals and snare and tom rolls that suggest something ominous is about to happen. Sparse, sustained piano notes from Chris Abrahams are left to hang in the air — listen carefully and you can hear breathing in the room — or Abrahams switches to organ and projects pulsing clusters of notes into stereo space. In an unexpected turn, an electric guitar appears, with accompanying tube amp hum. Lloyd Swanton’s bass is largely absent, save for occasional isolated octave plucks, or some ominous bowing. When the piece coalesces in its final stretch with two piano chords, bass and guitar, the music is begging to continue in this vein for at least twice as long as it does but is cruelly cut short. That’s The Necks for you: always expansive, always surprising, always tapping into music’s eternal potential.

Tim Clarke

Rich the Factor — The North Face Whale, Vol. 3 (WE MFR)

We mostly listen to Rich the Facc’s music because of his gruff voice. The North Face Whale, Vol. 3 is another sample of his voice. The big mistake would be to try to pay attention to what he’s saying on these songs. It is some usual nonsense about how he’s “on money mission, not on dummy mission.” Even after dozens of replays no song off this tape stays in memory. But it’s fine. You have only one question: how is The North Face Whale, Vol. 3 any different from Vol. 1 and Vol. 2?

Ray Garraty

Colin Andrew Sheffield — Moments Lost (Sublime Retreat)

Sound source resonates with subject on this brief minimax (a 3” CD embedded in a 5” plastic disc) CD made by Colin Andrew Sheffield, an electronic musician who resides in Austin TX. Sheffield’s preferred method is plunderphonics; he mines his own media collection for sounds to be procured and (most of the time) processed into music of his own. Moments Lost is a soundtrack made from soundtracks. Sheffield has marshalled a mass of samples from movies, mostly string passages that imply moments of pause, reflection, transition and loss, and layered and sequenced them into a 20.33” sequence of sounds daub association and reverie like a painter might daub paint. Played at low volume, it could be your next go-to ambient recording. But if you spend time listening closely, perhaps while peering at the sleeve’s stills from a film that Sheffield played along with the music when he first presented it at the Molten Plains Festival in Denton in 2023, you might find your physique and consciousness sinking deep while you hit the play button over and over.

Bill Meyer

Chelsea Wolfe — She Reaches Out to She Reaches Out to She (Loma Vista)

Considering Chelsea Wolfe hasn’t put out a solo LP since 2019’s Birth of Violence, and that was basically a folk record, casual fans may well wonder what kind of upheavals led to this very different seventh album. On a personal level there have been plenty (sobriety, relationships changing, learning to live alone, etc) and that combined with additional pandemic time spent working on the demos led to Wolfe going in a more electronic direction and deliberately seeking an outside producer (Dave Sitek of TV on the Radio, many others) to transform the songs. The result is further in a darkwave/trip-hop direction than the already protean Wolfe has previously gone, and also one of her most consistently engaging records. Whether on the noisier, spikier bursts of “Whispers in the Echochamber” and “Eyes Light Nightshade” or the more delicate likes of “The Liminal” and “Place in the Sun,” there’s a beautifully sung and relentless Gothic vibe to the whole thing that’s extremely satisfying. Wolfe may well choose to move on again after this, but it’ll be a bit of a shame if she does.

Ian Mathers

[brokehorrorfan]

Broke Horror Fan presents Return to Sleepaway Camp on limited edition, fully functional VHS! Our latest tape is on sale now at Witter Entertainment.

Sleepaway Camp writer-director Robert Hiltzik helms the 2008 sequel to his '80s slasher classic. Felissa Rose, Jonathan Tiersten, and Paul DeAngelo return to star with Vincent Pastore (The Sopranos), Jackie Tohn (GLOW), and Isaac Hayes (South Park).

It arrives on VHS in slipcase packaging with new art by Shane Rittersbach, limited to 100. 50 copies are available in a bundle with custom Camp Arawak short-shorts. Each tape includes an exclusive introduction by Rose.

For optimal VHS viewing, the film has been cropped from its original aspect ratio to 4:3 full frame. It is officially licensed and approved by producer Thomas E. van Dell.

It's summer camp as usual at Camp Manabe, where the kids torment each other for fun while the underpaid camp staff provides as little supervision as possible. When campers and staff mysteriously begin disappearing and turning into gruesome corpses, paranoid Ronnie can't shake the memory of a series of grisly murders that took place at Camp Arawak two decades earlier.

[the-wrestling-cave]

Who wants to be my 100th SUBSCRIBER on YOUTUBE!

>>> (TheWrestlingCave)