Thom Young

Post image for Thom Young

by horrorsleazetrash on September 4, 2010

Thom Young is a writer from Texas.  His work has been in 3am magazine, Word Riot, Thieves Jargon, The Legendary, and many other sundry places.

Check out his twitter here.

The Bookstore

The middle -aged man entered the bookstore through the coffee shop, it was the bookstore’s chain amply named Black Forest Coffee. Visions of gnomes danced through his head, and maybe a unicorn fucking something. He made it about half way past the periodical section and vintage paperbacks, before realizing why he was there. It was just an ordinary day. Wednesday. Middle of the summer and partly cloudy. His name was Tom Wilson. I say was because he is no longer with us. His soul has gone to hell or heaven, depending on whom you ask. Tom had noticed a young woman working the register. The checkout line wrapped around several times and back on itself. It seemed everyone and their mom was there. Nobody worked anymore, must have been the economy. The young woman had black raven hair, and her skirt kept inching up her legs. It was driving Tom crazy. He wanted to rip that skirt off and bend her over the counter. He perused past the fiction section, but kept his eye on the girl. She must be fresh out of school. Her white cotton panties no doubt soaking wet. The mere sight of Tom turned her on. The girl couldn’t help herself.

Tom looked at a few crime novels and decided on one. It had a gun on the cover, like an old pulp novel. The content of the book didn’t matter. It was the cover. The surface shit that society craved. The society that rejected Tom Wilson. Tom tucked the book under his arm, and went towards her. He lit a cigarette, even though smoking wasn’t allowed.

“Sir, you need to put out the smoke. This building in non-smoking.” The voice from the security officer startled Tom, but he kept walking. The officer grabbed Tom’s shoulder. “I said put out your cigarette!” Tom turned to face the officer, and put his smoke out on his hand. “I’m sorry officer, its just that I’m in a hurry to talk to my sister.” “Your sister?” “Yes, she is that dark haired girl over there. She works at the bookstore.” The officer smiled. “You mean Emily is your sister?” “Yes that’s her. You see our grandmother just passed away, it’s a family emergency. I’m a little stressed so as why the cigarette.” “Sorry to hear that. Go right ahead.”

Tom took his book and put it on another shelf. He walked outside to the parking lot. He sat in his car and waited for the store to close. Tom passed the time lighting smokes and listening to an oldies station. RIDE SALLY.. RIDE YOUR PONY….RIDE SALLY RIDE..

Tom saw her locking the front door. The bookstore was closed. He slowly got out of his Ford. He followed her slowly at first, but soon ran. He got her around the neck and tore at her blouse. Tom managed to drag her back to his car. The beauty screamed but nobody heard it. Tom worked the skirt off. He placed a knife to her throat. She wasn’t much of a fighter. Tom figured maybe she was still in high school. It was over soon. Her blood ran all over the back seat. “You made a mess darling. But it’s not your fault. That damn skirt.” She was silent now. Tom leaned her up and shut the door. He climbed in the front seat and slowly drove away.

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