Paranormal Horror
Word Count:  33.6K
$2.99 e / $10.99 p / $13.00 a



My name is Alexis Hembree, and Iím a cop. My partner and I are good at our jobs, except we donít tend to work what others would call a ďnormalĒ beat. For some reason we draw evil to us like flies to sugar.

Sometimes there are things in this world we canít explain or anticipate. But when they cross that line between their existence and ours, when they show up, we have to deal with them as best we can.

Some cops fight criminals. We fight something that never should have existed.

303 Lexington St.

It was a crack house. Except, in this case, drug dealers went in but they didnít come out. Not alive, anyway, but in body bags. Whatís more, if everyone who went inside ended up being shredded to death, who was doing the killing?

Georgie Porgie

The killer targeted women. Young, old, prostitutes, business women, it didnít matter. One moment they would be walking down the sidewalk in the middle of town, and the next what was left of their bodies would be found in a nearby alleyway. Devoured. Thatís why I had to be the next one to walk the streets. To draw out whoever was doing this. To be his next victim.

The Goodbye

He murdered young girls by crucifying them with ice picks. He was slick, elusive, and heading for our city. My partner and I were damned and determined this murderer would get no further. Unfortunately I couldnít keep my head on the job. Neither could I ignore the weird-ass dreams I was having about this deviate. This case was becoming more personal, more foreboding, and more dangerous with each passing day. And there was no damn way I could avoid what I dreamed would be the final outcome.




The signal to let Buddy know all was clear was to put my hands on my hips. Instead I crossed my arms, still staring at the retreating taillights. Something was wrong. Something was hanging at an odd angle, and it gnawed at me. When that feeling comes over you that sends a tingle up your spine and rings bells in your head, but you canít exactly put your finger on what triggered the alarm, the irritation grows like an itch you canít reach to scratch. And for a cop, that itch could mean the difference between life and death. The only thing I was sure of was that the kid in the truck was not the cause.

"Something is out of focus here," I said. "Thereís something rotten in the state of Denmark. And I do mean rotten." I started to walk back toward Biltmore when the wind kicked up again, throwing my hair across my face and lifting my skirts. Normally I wore my hair in a braid or bun at the back of my neck. For this job, however, I had to let the locks fall loose. Quickly I brushed back the Irish red curls, knowing thereíd be hell to pay to get the tangles out of them later.

A low moan howled from down the alley, coming from the direction taken by the little Chinese woman a few minutes earlier. I could still smell the remains of whatever had been cooking that day, mixed with the scent of ozone and impending rain. Overhead the clouds were slowly growing closer and thicker. More wind picked up, moaning again.

"Oh, Jesus!" I bolted down the alleyway. My police issue was in my hand as if by magic. "Code Three! Code Three! Buddeeeee!"

She was no more than a hundred feet from the street, tucked into a narrow space between the buildings. She looked like she had taken a moment to crawl up on top of some piled up boxes for a quick break. Her eyes were half-closed, her hands lay limply in her lap. With the exception of her jawbone dangling on its hinges, the lower half of her face was completely missing. Blood dripped like a broken faucet over her soaked blouse. Hesitantly I reached up, pressing two fingers against her jugular to confirm death when she suddenly shuddered. Slowly her eyes rolled around until they found me. Her hands trembled as she tried to raise them. Then, as though a switch was flipped, the light went out in her eyes and her hands dropped lifeless back into her lap.

I heard a scream coming from somewhere. It was later that I realized the sound had come from me.




Reviewed by Claudia, Manic Readers

Alexis Hembree is a cop. She and her partner may beat the bad guys, but they are also fighting against something far more dangerous. Evil is attracted to them, and no matter where they seem to go, it follows close on their heels.

303 Lexington St. isnít your average house, no; it is something much, much more. Used as a crack house, criminals come and go, but more times than not, who enters 303 Lexington St. typically doesnít leave.

There are things in the world that just canít be explained. But when those supernatural creatures present themselves to Alexis, she must fight them with everything she has. Although some cops may fight your average run of the mill criminals, Lexie fights something much more deadly, and a whole lot scarier.

What can I say about
Code 30? The better question is what canít I say?! This story is set in first person, Alexis (Lexi) Hembree being our narrator. The story was well over a hundred pages, and so worth the read. Lexi is a tough cop that doesnít take crap from anyone. The house on Lexington St. isnít your average house. Couple a frightening building, with a woman who has strength and courage, and you have yourself a scene that will knock your socks offÖliterally.

This is definitely a horror story, for sure, and if you are squeamish I would suggest not reading this. But if you want a story that is frighteningly authentic and will make you remember the details long after the light has been turned off, then I would suggest this story. Below are a few quotes from
Code 30 that I found particularly horrifying and descriptive.

ďTwo bodies completely dismantled, yet their hands were as clean and pristine as if theyíd just washed them. Their bodies hacked almost in half, yet there was no evidence of who had done in whom.Ē

ďShe was there as I had known she would be. The ice picks glittered in the light. Blood dripped off the tips of her toes, forming a puddle of reddish-brown gore on the dirt-packed floor.Ē

There were twists and turns, and situations I didnít see coming. The horror in this story was spine tingling. I canít even begin to explain how Ms. Mooney described so well and so fluidly the acts and deprivations that occurred. There was sadness in this story, but donít get me wrong, this was 100% horror city.

Well done Ms. Mooney, I hope every horror fans takes a look at
Code 30 because it is so worth it!