Lotus

It was the weekend. The excitement of that fact had her heart racing faster than a jackhammer. The weekend was for her and Master. She hopped to packing her bag and running down the checklist of things he liked. She hadn’t been into the domme lifestyle unit she met him, the Master. Master was cooking one of his special weekend meals, that made her stomach growl and mouth water, just thinking about the taste of that sweet meat.
She clicked on the radio while she finished packing and cringed at the news being broadcasted.
“And still no sign of Charles Belmont, the accused pedophile, who was currently await…”
With a cry of disgust, she switched off the radio. She laid out the things she would need on her bed. Black bikini, check. Blindfold, check. Collar, check. Black nail polish and lipstick check and check. She packed the items in her duffle bag. She slipped into her sandals, checking her toes to make sure the nail polish was unchipped. With car keys in hand, her journey to the Master’s apartment began.
It was a pleasant sunny day, the windows up, the air pumping, the radio blaring, and her singing along with the catchy pop song. She was in such high spirits she felt like she could soar up to heaven. She stopped at the red light watching a group of children play at the park. They were so cute she could chase down and eat up whatever came by and threaten those innocent sheep. The Master would’ve approved. She would be the big bad red wolf.
“What big mouth you have grandma! The better to eat you with my dear!”
Those familiar lines played in her head, laughing as she sped off. She added dancing in her seat, by bouncing up and down, waving her hands back and forth, to accompany her singing along with the radio. She smiled at strangers, waving, and cheering as she drove by. She was a light in the darkness and her glowing smile never faltered from her face.
“Still no sign of accused pedophile Charles Belmont. He is the fifth man to going missing is a string of…”
Still smiling she stabbed the radio with her finger and changed the channel. Putting her foot down, she sped off. She would be living with Master, but that bitch dog of a soon to be ex-wife has issues with the Master.
She rang the Master’s bell, her feet shuffling, knees bouncing, and adrenaline coursing through as she waited to greet him turned into doing a small dance of anticipation while began to play with her fiery red hair as the door swung open. Her heart stopped at the sight of him. He smiled at her, she became giddy. He gestured with his head to come in. She rushed in and dropped to her knees before him as he closed the door.
Reaching down he ran his hands through her hair. He wore an approving smile. His touch was pure ecstasy on her skin as it broke out in gooseflesh.
“Good girl,” he cooed.
“I am a good girl,” she cried.
“Go and get yourself ready my good girl. I have dinner cooking,” he instructed.
“Yes, Master,” she said, jumping up.
She went into the bathroom as he returned to the stove. She changed and gave her feet a quick wash. The Master must have clean feet. The smell of sweet meat, onions, peppers, and mushrooms wafted from the kitchen filling the house. Her stomach cried out for it as her mouth filled with saliva.
She closed the collar firmly around her neck before stepping out of the bathroom. She stood in the dining room showing off as if she was a supermodel on a runway. Master watch from the stove. Master nodding in agreement.
“Take your place pet, and I will be right there to do the rest.”
“Gladly Master,” she replied, skipping over to her place like a schoolgirl.
An enormous black plush meditation pillow sat in the dining room directly up against the kitchen island. That was her place, and she eagerly sat taking on the full lotus pose. It was her Master’s favorite poses out of the many poses she would take for him. The Master came and stood before her. She bowed her head demurely in his presence, the Master a chuckled.
In one hand he held two pieces of purple rope. A wave of giddiness struck as a small smile rose to her lips but tried not to show it; continuing the demure downtrodden slave act. He extended his free hand out to her.
“Let’s have it, girl,” Master ordered.
Master’s orders were never harsh, but she must obey. She offered up the blindfold. He took it from her as her lips curled inward waiting for what came next. She extended her hands with wrists together, and Master tied them then led the end of the rope to a hidden metal loop under the carpet where he secured the other end. Rising and taking hold of her collar he tied a piece of the other cord through the loop on it and tied it off to another metal loop built into the bar island.
She raised her head, and Master blindfolded her.
She was in the darkness. He ran his hands covetously over her bare flesh making her shiver. He played with her hair before he spoke.
“All you see is the moon, and it is big and round.”
She slipped into a trance-like state one of several triggers the Master had implanted in her mind over the course of months they had been together. It was bliss.
“Big and round,” she responded dreamlike.
“The moon has many secrets,” he soothed.
“Many secrets,” she intoned.
“But today the moon holds your mantra,”
His words were like silk in her ears as the smells from the kitchen filled the small apartment.
“My mantra. Yes, Master,” she agreed.
Agreeing was so easy.
“What is its mantra?” he asked.
“It is a good pet,” she answered.
“Repeat until you are told to stop,” Master commanded.
She obeyed, and the words of the old axiom flowed out of her mouth nonstop. She couldn’t halt it if she tried. Time passed in an eternal haze as she came back round to herself. Her mantra ceased, and now she sat in stillness.
Ravenous hunger gnawed at her stomach. Her mouth was too dry to drool at the fragrant sweet meat cooking. She leaned over to a water bottle placed nearby with and sipped from a straw. Light jazz music played on the sound system set up all over Master’s home.
“You did very well pet. I would have you done more, but this piece of meat can be notoriously tough and chewy if not attended to,” Master’s voice filled the darkness.
“I understand Master,” she responded from her place.
“I have hung the faces to watch us dine tonight, my pet,” Master told her.
A girlish excited giggle escaped her lips at the news.
The four white plaster faces of four different men hung on the wall directly across from the dining room table. Each face belonged to one of the four men who has recently gone missing. Each one of them a criminal, a danger to society, stopped before they could do more damage. For each one of the four men, there were four different faces for the days Master kept them. Each day Master would capture their confusion, anger, and fear in the plaster casts. The fourth and final face for each of them was a death mask after Master had dispatched them.
Master slid her blindfold off and stood before her. He untied her, but she didn’t move from the lotus until told to do so. He smiled warmly at her, and her heart stopped. She licked her lips and stared up at him.
“Are you a hungry little wolf?” Master asked.
“Starving,” she admitted.
Master walked back into the kitchen leaving her. She looked at the twelve faces of the four men in four rows decorating the wall across from the dining room table. The news broke in interrupting the music.
“Charles…”
She growled, and Master silenced the nasty news reporter.
“Don’t growl pet,” he said firmly.
“Yes, Master,” she answered.
“Should I tell you of number five who will be joining the others on the wall my pet?”
“Oh yes please Master,” She said excitedly
Master opened his mouth and began to tell the story of number five.
The day is hot topping almost one hundred and twelve degrees. He walks from the living room area of his apartment through the dining room and out the glass slide door to the pool area. Master spies his prey sitting poolside. Charles Belmont sits in a plastic pool chair in swim trunks, a short sleeve button down, and sunglasses. He moved in a week ago and has been trying to lay low. He uses an alias, but the Master is not fooled Belmont has been scented by the tribe. Charles or Dan, as he has become known to the locals in the building, sits poolside every day. He is a wolf himself just not in the same sense the Master is who belongs to the tribe.
Charles watches the children run around the pool screaming, laughing, and diving into the cold refreshing blue water. Charles has spotted his prey a little boy of twelve. He doesn’t know it, but this will be the last day he sits poolside. Charles’ eyes are full of eagerness and hunger for one of those pups. The Master approaches him, sits next to him, adopting the same wolfish hunger in his eyes. Charles mistakes this for a kindred spirit a lover of children in the same manner as to which he loves them. The Master’s hunger is for Charles and Charles alone.
The Master notices the bulge of the hard-on in Charles’ trunks that a newspaper is trying to hide. He then fixes Charles with raised eyebrows. Charles smirks and offers up a shrug as if saying,
“What can you do?”
The Master sits back in the chair placing his hand on Charles’ upper thigh close to that hard member in his pants. This is all part of the deception, but deception was the key to lure in the prey. This one was wily, rich and could possibly talk the devil into lighting himself on fire. The Master smirks at that last thought perhaps Belmont will get the chance to when he meets him in Hell. He smirks holding Belmont’s gaze. Belmont returns the smirk again confusing him for a kindred spirit. Every time the boy he fancies goes by the Master squeeze his thigh.
The two men sit poolside all day watching the children. Finally Master breaks the long silence between them.
“I have the good stuff at my place,” Master says.
“Yeah? How good my friend?” Charles asks, sounding hungry.
“Little black girls kissing little white boys with open mouth deep kisses. Just imagine their tongues exploring each other’s mouth as she has fun with his body,” Master answers.
“Will there be drinks served? I am parched in more ways than one if you catch my drift,” Charles askes.
“Pick your poison,” Master answers, getting up and head back to his place.
Charles gets up and eagerly follows the Master in. The Master smiles as Charles slides the glass door back into place upon entering. The Master smile not only because he has lured in the prey but because the victim has never encountered his kind before, Lycanthrope.
The Master begins the process of shifting letting the oversized adrenal glands do the work. He feels the supernatural strength fill his veins as his muscles start to grow and expand, his teeth begin to sharpen in his mouth, the canines lengthen, the senses begin to heighten, and the iris’ of his eye begins to turn to gold. These changes are subtle to one who is not of the tribe.
Charles makes himself comfortable on the leather sofa in the living room as he fixes the drinks. The Master places the glasses down on the table he can smell the sweat coming from Belmont. He can hear the man’s heart racing with the excitement of the promised goods. In his Lycanthrope form, Charles’ eyes appear as big as saucers filled with dark oily greed and hunger. The sweat begins to stand out magnified on Belmont’s brow as he wipes it away. The Master can hear him dry swallow a half of dozen times. Charles licks his dry lips and to the Master is a sound like sandpaper over wood. Charles grabs his drink from the table and gulps it.
“So let’s see the goods because money talks and bullshit walks they say in my profession,” Charles says, placing the half-empty glass on the table.
“Right away,” The Master starts to leave.
“Master,” Charles says.
“What?” Master asks.
“I like it when the young ones call me Master it gets me excited to hear it because they are so eager to please and you’re a young one aren’t you?” Charles says, running his hands through his short white hair.
“Of course I will go fetch you the goods my Master,” Master says, winking at Charles.
“Good slave boy, go fetch,” Charles orders.
“Yes Master,” Master says.
The Master enters a room meant only for him and his victims. He thinks of this soundproof room as the room of wrath and ruin. The room walls, ceiling are covered in thick padding as is the back of the room’s door. In the center of the room is a dental chair, which was meant for the prey. Bookshelves have been placed in the room that holds the various items. The plaster equipment he uses to make masks of them all, different file folders on the prey given to him by the tribe, information on that bitch of an ex-wife. Pornography he kept from a previous victim and very special mushroom.
These mushrooms came into this world with the tribe when the crossed over from the land next door. The fungus known as Dewen carried within its core a powerful hallucinogen drug. He took a syringe, stuck the needle into the magic mushroom and filled it with its neon yellow juice.
“Slave boy, what’s taking you so long?” Charles bellowed, from the other room.
He grabbed the porn and a black box that was lying nearby. He placed the porn in the box, put the lid back on it, and placed the syringe in his back pocket.
“Coming Master,” he answered.
Master came out of the room holding the box out in a big goofy smile of his face as he showed the box off to Charles who sat on the couch like a king. Charles beckoned him over with a finger like a lover or a dog. The Master came eagerly.
“Here Master,” he said, placing the box on the table.
“Good boy, now come here and sit at my feet,” Charles said, indicating the spot with his finger.
The Master eagerly sat. Charles reached out and began to stroke his brown curly hair. The Master broke out in his goof smile again, and Charles laughed.
“I swing both ways you know, slave. I don’t usually keep them as old as you but I really starting to like you. You want me to keep you don’t you slave boy?”
“Oh yes Master nothing would make me happier than to be your slave,” Master said, sounding eager to please.
Charles placed the Master’s hand on his hard cock. The Master squeezed it playfully.
“I am going look at the goods slave boy and while I do you’re going to stroke me off understand?”
“Oh yes Master, gladly Master.”
Charles bent over removing the lid from the box, and the Master crushed his cock with his supernatural strength. It sounded like walnuts cracking open. The look of pain, shock, and confusion on Charles’ face was almost comedic as the true Master rose up removing the syringe from his pocket and stabbing it into Charles’ neck. Like anyone who is injected with the Dewen extracted the first time Charles Belmont passed out and awoke in the chair in the room of wrath and ruin and to the last four days of his life.
The last four days of Charles Belmont’s life will be a fever, nightmare induced hell. This is in part of the Dewen extract. The extract makes you highly suggestible. The Master came up with all sorts of fitting punishments while his victims were on the drug. For Charles, who now called the Master, Master, it was his children victims coming back as wraiths to tear him apart only to have his mind tell him he is whole once again and the process begins again. It would end with Charles passing out from the overload to his brain.
During these times of blackout from his victim, he would maul over the file he had on his ex-wife. Anger and confusion filled him as he thumbed through it. It made sense now why the judge and her lawyer seem to be in league with each other. The file was given to him by a detective the tribe had hired. He was an odd man who drank too much, smoked too much, and had a witches mark on his forearm. As soon as he left you quickly forgot him. The Master believed that last part was part of this detective’s witch glam.
The bitch was sleeping with both of those bastards. Sex had ever been her weapon; she was not of the tribe. He was warned by the tribe elders whom his father was one and the alpha, his older brother, to be careful with a woman who wasn’t of the tribe. He wished he listened as he saw the hospital records in the file of the abuse she dealt the children. The injury she could play off as nothing more than children being children. The twins were soft-spoken and afraid. The hot fire grew inside of him as he thought of her heavy hands rearing down on the twins for showing early Lycan tendencies.
The pups were part of the tribe and belonged to him. This file sanctioned the hunting of all three. He was not allowed to hunt them others from the tribe would. His mind drifted to her his newfound pet; would be an excellent mother to the two of them. She was already a teacher at their school. He had bumped into her in the hallway, and he sensed her right away another Lycanthrope possibly from another tribe. But upon their initial conversation he realized she had no idea what she was, her family had left whatever tribe they belonged to and had turned their backs on the way of the tribe. He had been using the Dewen in small doses to reawaken her Lycanthrope spirit. It had worked this had pleased him and the tribe to have one of the lost return homes to them. A voice broke his rivalry.
“Master?’ Charles asked from the chair.
“Yes numbnuts,” he said wearily.
The Master put down the smile to look at him. Charles’ eyes were wide and vacant as is the smile from his cracked lips. The Dewen dehydrated you in large doses. He began to laugh sounding like Renfield from the old Dracula movies as drool escaped from both sides of his mouth. He wasn’t bound to the chair none of them ever were, the drug had them convinced they were unable to leave it. Those vacant eyes fell on the Master as if searching for approval.
“Charles,” Master said.
“Yes, Master?” Charles asked eagerly.
“The children are all around you now,” Master said, calmly.
Charles Belmont begins to writhe and scream in his chair. The Master returned to his file looking over new bruises on his son’s back and a broken finger for his daughter. The rage that fills him is like an out of control wildfire.
On the last day of Charles Belmont’s life, he had woken up in the chair. His head throbbed and hummed as if coming off a bad hangover. His mouth was dry he could hardly swallow. Confused thoughts raced through Belmont’s mind.
What day was it?
Where was his new slave boy?
How much did he have to drink?
Did playtime get too rough?
He tried to raise a hand to wipe at his eyes to his immediate horror he felt the restraints. He began to buck himself up and down in the chair to fight the constraints. He tried pulling and kicking desperately to get free. He was that freighted kid again the one whose father slipped into bed with him at night and had shushed him when he cried while telling him how much he loved him with hot alcohol on his breath as he grabs his child’s penis. Charles’ heart raced as panic screams began to escape his lips.
In the next room at the full moons behest, the Master began his final transformation. His eyes were bright golden fire as his irises shifted from hazel to gold. His mouth was now full of razor sharp point cannibalistic teeth. His nails grew down long, sharp and black. As the muscles on his body bulged as he grew another foot. The Master is entirely naked. He hears the screams from the other room. A sinister smile brakes out on his face as he enters the room of wrath and ruin.
Charles Belmont’s screams cut off abruptly upon sight of the Master in his pure form. The smell of urine permeated the room as Charles’ bladder let go, they were always pissing themselves at the end. He began to weep and pray.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God!”
“He not coming Charles there is only me,” Master responded.
The Master stopped by one of the bookshelves that decorated the room. On the shelf before his sat an ornate wooden box. He opens it and removes a silver dagger with a keen blade, and a wolf head handle. In the world next store his kind would have turned full wolf to devour the prey. In the first years of their arrival in this world, they still could have changed, and the natives of these Americans welcomed them as more than men. But it was scarce these days if one could fully become a wolf. The dagger will work he calls it Wolf’s Claw, and it is ceremonial. It will make quick work of the sobbing praying man in the chair.
He turned, and with lightning fast speed the dagger was plunged into Charles Belmont’s chest to the hilt. Belmont dies with a look of wide-eyed horror on his face and choking on his own blood. The Master pulled the dagger out and makes one or two more slits. With his nails, he opens the slits and the chest cavity. Reaches in and grabs the heart covering himself in his prey’s blood tears it free from the hole. He holds the heart over his head and loses a triumphant howl.
Standing in the room naked and covered in blood he begins to eat the heart of his prey. It is delicious Master concludes.
She never moved from her lotus pose as Master left the kitchen carrying a platter with a silver dome cover over it.
“Come. Sit.” Master commanded.
She rose gracefully from her pose and got down on all fours, like a good wolf, then crawled to the table. She made sure she brushed up against her Master’s leg. Master reached down and patted her affectionately. She took her seat and concentrated at the silver dome her mouth still too dry to salivate. She took the lotus pose in her chair.
Master retrieved two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine. He removed the cork and poured. The aroma of fruits and copper filled the room mixing with the sweet meat, onions, peppers, garlic, and mushrooms. The copper smell in the wine enticed her. Master swirled the wine in his glass, letting it air. She did the same. They drank together, but the fruit could not mask the taste of the blood added to the wine. Delicious.
“Dinner is served,” Master placed his hand on top of the silver dome. “You know the serial killer, Albert Fish, wrote in a letter that this piece of meat was chewy and tough to eat, but I don’t think he cooked it right. I think I cooked it to perfection.”
Master removed the dome. Billows of hot steam rose to the ceiling as the aroma of dinner was released. Her eyes widened, never having seen a meal so rare and beautiful.
“Bon appetite,” Master, announced in a bad French accent.
She giggled and broke into a toothy smile. Charles Belmont’s cooked penis and balls sat in the middle of the plate surrounded by the vegetable garnish. Master cut the meat into thin slices which he put onto their plates.
She eagerly grabbed her fork and began eating as she gingerly slid the soft soles of her bare feet into her Master’s lap. Master ate with one hand and played with her feet in the other.
“There is enough of Charles in the freezer for at least a couple nice dinners pet,” Master assured her
“He’s delicious Master. I love our dinners together. Thank you for hunting this fine meal,” she told him taking a sip of the blood wine.
“You’re welcome my pet. My good wolf bitch,” Master began
She licked her lips in excitement at the Master’s praise. He took her hand in his and gazed into her eyes. She stared back, and in them, she saw the moon and had to obey. He smiled a wolf’s smile. She reciprocated with her own.
“And now I think it’s time you went on your very own and very first hunt,” Master finished.
She made a high keening sound in the back of her throat. She couldn’t find words, so she nodded her head emphatically. He reached under his chair and produced a wooden box. Her eyes widened as she tilted her head in wonder. He opened it and there on black velvet rested an identical silver dagger to his own. It was a bit smaller perfect for her slender hands. She found her voice it came out tiny and breathy.
“Who Master? Who?”
“I believe you call her the bitch,” Master replied.
She gasps as the pleasure overwhelmed her senses and mind. Her first hunt and it was the soon to be ex-wife of the Master. She was so fucking, horny now. She was soaked. Master smiled as she took her own wolf’s claw.
“She will make a fine meal for us and the children. Those soon to be pups in training,” Master said
She resumed the lotus pose clutching the dagger to her breasts.
“Yes my Master it will be done,” She assured him.

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The Dead Man at Thorndale Beach

I was ten that summer I met Jack and in one fleeting moment, the line between life and death became blurred I never was the same.

I walked along Thorndale Beach with massive thunderheads hanging low over Lake Michigan. I dragged my Radio Flyer behind me in my Boy Scout uniform. I was collecting trash. I was doing my best to live by the motto to do “a good turn daily.” That was when I first saw him lying face down on the shoreline.

My heart hammered in my chest with excitement. It was a chance to help to do something really big to help and maybe get my story told in the Boy Scout magazine Boys Life. Now I wish that I had just fled the beach and gotten the police.

I raced down to the shore with delusions of grandeur in my head. My young imagination ran with thoughts of interviews in Boys Life, the news, cameras, and a thousand flashbulbs going off hailing me as a hero. Sand flew up into the air with every footfall as I reached him.

If I could have stopped myself, then I would have gladly. As I reached the body lightning lit the sky up over the lake. I dropped to my knees. I did not think as I grabbed the head and slowly turned it to face me. I pulled out my official Boy Scout signal mirror to check for the dead men’s breathe. With shaking, hands I placed the mirror to the space between his nose and lips like my Scout Master had shown us. I held my breath waiting to see if the mirror would fog up.

A flash of lightning followed by a thunderclap and the dead man eyes flew open with a gasping breath. The mirror did not fog up with his gasping breath which was followed by coughing fits. The mirror fell from my numb fingers into the wet sand. All the excitement had felt earlier draining from my body as fear swiftly taking its place. I fell to my butt in the wet sand and started to scoot backward as the dead man rose to his feet.

He was tall at least six feet. He was sopping wet. He wore a dark blue suit which had several black holes which I could see through. He black hair matted down to his head. The bottom half of a black tie was missing. His skin was a white as the dress shirt he wore which stuck to his body. One eye was a hard clear azure blue the other was dead white. It was staring into the white eye that stopped me in my tracks.

He walked the few steps to me. He moved stiffly water dripping off his body with every step he took. He reached down and touched me with his cold, wet hands. My body broke out in gooseflesh. My stomach dropped as a chill filled my very core. He hoisted me back up to my feet. He flashed a smile of perfect white teeth. I tried to smile again, but I think I fail because his smile faltered as he nodded his head. I couldn’t take my eyes off his dead white one.

“Hello young man,” The dead man started, “my name is Jack.”

He stuck out his hand in a “put it there” gesture. I took it and shook it numbly as I told him my name. Remembering what my parents and Scouting had taught me to be polite, to respect my elders, and to be courteous. I stared at his chest not wanting to look at his eyes. Then he cried out.

“Ow!”

“What?! What?! I am sorry Mister!”

“What a grip you got there my young man.”

He began to laugh at his joke. The sound was high as if it was to break into uncontrollable sobbing. He lifted a knuckle to his mouth biting down. I felt my eyes grow wide as saucers as the fear froze me to my spot. Jack looked out to the lake as another flash of lightning lit the sky. The laughter stopped, and he quickly turned to face me a look of horror on his face.

“I need more time! Not enough time!”

I shook my head emphatically to afraid to disagree with Jack. Jack patted the top of my head. He licked his lips and smiled down at me. I put on my best smile the one I wear for my great aunt when she pinches my cheeks.

“Are you a real Boy Scout?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Will you help me? Isn’t what you Scouts do? You help people. I was people.”

“On my Honor to do my best and to do a good turn daily, sir.”

I help up my three fingers and my arm at a ninety-degree angle as it was the custom when you went over the motto or pledge in the Scouting organization. That brought out more of that terrifying high pitch laughter from Jack. His attention slowly drifted back to the lake where the lighting now danced angrily over the water.

“Not yet! Not yet! Please not yet!”

I managed to take a couple of steps back not taking my eyes off of him. I was ready to bolt back to Sheridan Road. He spun to face me his face contorted into a rage and with the cat-like quickness he seized my upper arms and held tight.

My body went limp in his arm. His touch was draining my strength and will to leave. The rage slowly slipped away to the toothy smile. It gave him the look of a mean old tom cat that was only toying with the mouse before going in for the kill.

“Don’t do that again Boy Scout,” He growled through gritted teeth, “I was a Scout once not a good one. I wish I had been a good one but you are a good one, and you are going to fucking help me.”

I nodded the words stuck in my throat, and his grip loosened. His face became placid as the lake surface. He removed his hands from my upper arm. I stood there defeated, and all I wanted was my mother. I didn’t care about the Boys Life or anything. I began to pray to Mister Jesus silently. I noticed it than a solid gold wedding ring on the ring finger. He started to fiddle with it to take it off. He struggled with his teeth gritted and a look of complete concentration on his face. It slipped off.

“Ha-ha success!”

He held the ring out to me with his thumb and pointer finger.

“Take it, take it.”

My dead hand reached out and took it from him prayers silently falling out of my mouth. It closed my hand around the ring and brought it to my chest.

“Are you praying?”

“Yes, sir to our friend and savior Mister Jesus.”

“Do you know what happens when you die you, idiot? Do you have any idea?”

“The good get to go to heaven and feast with Christ and his father God and the wicked burn in hell with the Devil.”

Jack raised a hand and slapped me hard on my cheek. The blow knocked me to the sand. He lorded over me his teeth bared. His fists balled up. My cheek was hot beginning to swell. I wanted to cry, but I held back the tears for fear of what this thing may do if my emotional dam broke.

“No! No! No, heaven, no hell, no Jesus, God or the devil! Just the deep dark bottomless abyss of the water and the great old ones who live there!”

Things after his admission began to happen quickly then. The wind started to howl and pick up, the lightning began to flash rapidly, and the tide started to come in soaking Jack’s shoes. I swore as the wave came in and out it sounded like a growling dog. Jack had turned his back on me to look out at the lake.

“That’s a lie! It’s not true!”

I screamed at him over the howling winds. He turned to face mean expression of rage and fear comingled on his face.

“Shut up,” He roared, “Sara Morningheart, you need to remember Sara Morningheart! Look her up in the phone book! The ring, give her my ring! She will give you a key to a safety deposit box! Give the content of the box to the police! Bring my killers to justice!”

The tide rose up over his shoes, but it didn’t recede. It formed into multiple hands and arms that climbed up his legs holding him firm. Jack’s face contorted into pure unadulterated terror. The wind screamed the thunder roared, the water growled, and the lightning lit up the heavens. The water arms pulled Jack back lifting him off the ground landing him face first into the sand. They dragged him back to the water. Jack went shrieking while desperately clawing at the sand for purchase. To stay just that bit longer not to have to face the fate that waited for him on the other side. Jack went under the water still screaming.

Part of me expected him to rise for one last scare like in a horror movie, but he never did. When I was sure he was gone, I began to cry as my bladder let go. Hot urine filled my pants and ran down my legs. The sky ripped open with on large bolt and clapped it began to rain. Many things happened that summer. I found Mrs. Moringheart and brought the stuff to the police. The men were arrested and brought to justice. That summer made all the newspapers it was all mob related. I have the articles in a scrapbook. Every day since then I have sat on this beach and waited to see if Jack would come back.

Push for 100

Narrator: And now this message
Me: Hi everyone so I kind of want to take my YouTube channel to next level and add to it you know some video collaborations, original content, more showcasing, but I need 100 subscribers to do that possibly a Patreon to get equipment and pay actors
These are just some thoughts I am having right now, so what do you think?
Audience reaction: *crickets chirping, lone coyote howl in the distance, tumbleweed going by, one dead Indian and Cowboy*
Me: Say where did those politically incorrect dead bodies come from?
Narrator: It’s now a stereotypical western motif now shut up!
Me: Sorry
#tfteotw #pushfor100
https://www.youtube.com/user/titustheun

TALES FROM THE END OF THE WORD SHOWCASES OMNIBUS

John Cordial

What’s in the closet? 6/29/17

Vanth picked something out of the closet and petted the air in easy strokes; eyes lost in the window, and mind farther away. Caldur watched the psycho pomp from the corner of her eye, wondering where her friend’s thought’s played. She was a little curious about the creature Vanth held. But if a ghost cat lived in her closet, she really didn’t want to know.

Doppelgänger 7/6/17

They shifted again. White dust flew from each body and when the powder cleared they were almost fairies. Six inches taller than Caldur but they had her features. Thin needle sharp teeth shined from their mouths. The wings on their backs were skeletal, no leather-like membrane or even insect type most fairies had. Wings of bone. Similar material made up their white claws; a dull color but long as paring knives.

“Isengrim.” The arrach’s voice that reminded her of a cement mixer.

“Pays.” Another one spoke this time.

“Us.” Yet another.Well.”

“For.”

“Fox.”

“Pelt.”

Caldur popped her knuckles. “Tell Isengrim it’s not gonna happen. Back off or pick out a casket.”

Themeless Thursday 8/24/17

He settled into the cracked, musty leather. “And I’ll survive this?” The dwarf pushed a button and the old hydraulics squeaked an echo of rusted pain as the chair tilted back. “Mostly. Eyes are the windows to the soul, and sometimes breaking a window can be a learning experience.” “I’ve always been clever,” he said. “But a little more brains never hurt. She gave a mean chuckle and rolled her granite eyes Believe me, If you were all that clever, you wouldn’t be in that chair.”

Abandon City 11/16/17

Whoever built the little camp inside the abandoned Super Store, didn’t last long. Scattered evidence of their attempts at normalcy, a dining area, some toys, even what looked like a homemade solar power rig. Nice Sola poked among the remains, looking for food or ammo—two most important things in her life right now. The power rig might offer a night of TV, maybe even some internet if that router worked. She could find out if Iceland managed to fight off the plague or not. Didn’t matter much, but here among the skeletons and ruins a bit of hope… well, it’s hope, always nice to have it in sight. Much like the sealed can of ravioli glinting beneath a torn shirt. A tiny pink shirt, with the middle ripped apart. Tattered wrists too. No use wondering about old horrors, especially with the promise of food right under her nose. Sola shoved the can in her bag and picked at the crushed blue tent next to the shirt. Nothing besides bones and clothes The long rifle on Sola’s back saved her more times than she remembered. And as a childlike laugh split the still air of the giant store, Sola knew it was about to get another chance. End Tale

Jason Van Horn

 

Green Children of Woolpit 8/9/17

Perhaps too crude are my words to describe my discovery, but nevertheless, my declaration must be made. I’ve discovered in this picturesque village of Woolpit something so perverse & terrifying no sane person should dare contemplate. Yet, considering myself quite mundane in the normal function of brain activity, I will share my findings. Naturally, from the Swan Inn, I went forth to the village hall. In papers given me, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Notwithstanding the gracious manner in which I was received and told that the story of the green children is not only old but that hundreds have done the same in investigation out of curiosity and found nothing, I stumbled upon something. On one document sat the words ‘Ecclesiastical curriculum’. Normally thought of as ‘church teaching’, in Latin, ‘curriculum’ could be translated as ‘tunnel’. Thus, I walked to the most recognizable structure, the church of Bury Saint Edmunds on Rectory Lane. Entering the church, I found on the back wall, a reference to the famous green children and again, ‘curriculum’. Finally finding the door to the lower edifice, I carefully went down and then fell. The floor gave way and now I as I look up it must be 60 feet deep. I fell into an abandoned shaft. An old pile of hay or straw broke my fall and left me hurt but able to function. The smell is of rot, but here before me is an iron door with a large green jade mounted on it. When I opened the orifice, I found a glimmering portal of green. I hazard a guess; this natural feature is of ancient foundation and leads to Saint Martin’s Land? I write this note, in hopes another will find it, in case I should never return. I am venturing forth.

The Dyatlov Pass 8/16/17

I know what happened to those people. Know this. The Dyatlov Pass is cursed. It is unholy & a monster lives there. It’s not from Infrasound. Not Military. Not Avalanche. It’s a monster. For years, I’ve been its servant – subject to its torture. I was 5 when papa took me hunting there & it overtook me. Darkness came to me in dreams – all along it was the monster living in me. I look 21 to you, but I am ancient. I was born in 1611. The monster has sustained me when I stopped growing. Now, I have come to confess, it lives in me. It made me destroy those people. It forces me back to the Pass because that is its home. I wander there under its power. I know this sounds far-fetched but I speak truth. I can’t remove it from me. Please, end my torture & destroy me! Only then will I know peace. My name is Demetri Petrov & the monster lives in me.

Themeless Thursday 8/23/17

The gasconading cynosure is mesmerizing. The viscous black & green crescent aperture opens & closes in rhythmic gyration as it calls to me. I told Tom not to go through it & as I guessed, his signal is nothing but static, just like everything we send. The bouncing energy pulse in the wormhole is 16.1332 seconds & if I’m right, he arrived on the other side of the galaxy in half that time. The havoc the aliens wrought on us changed our world 8 years ago and this is the last of the so called Connections. Even so, I think Russia still has their own hidden away, like us. Maybe there are more? I know it’s stupid, but I’ve felt the urge to go, like Tom. Now that he’s gone, I have seniority & the team needs a leader who understands this thing. If my measurements are right, air exists on the other side—I never measure incorrectly. That’s why Tom went. But if he doesn’t come back, Cranson is going to force me to pick another, or go myself. His masters want results, they want resources, and they want alien tech. Somedays I feel like a perfidy against my own country—nothing but a high-tech PhD scavenger. What if citizens knew what I do? What if they found out we still had the gate open? The alien device shows a galactic war through it. I hope Tom comes back.

That’s not my reflection staring back at me! 8/30/17

Jenny laughed. “Come on little brother, quit mess’n around. You’re just trying to scare me.”

“I’m serious Jen. Stand right here and look.” Sam pointed to his feet and then moved away as Jenny took his place.

“I only see my reflection,” she said. “I don’t see anything else and I certainly don’t see a creepy black image of myself.

“I know what I saw, Jen. It was me, except it wasn’t. I was burned, with black stuff all over me. You don’t see yourself like that?” She smiled.

“Nope. I just see a pretty 11 year old with a silly 8 year old brother behind me. I think this Fun House is playing tricks on you.”

** 20 years later **

I can’t escape him. Everywhere I turn, he’s there. He seems to delight in the perverse, making faces at me, whenever he can. His burned flesh. Bruises, black and blue. One day, he wrote with his blackened hand that he is me. I know he’s a liar. I don’t know why Jenny can’t see him, or anyone else for that matter. He appears in every reflection, as long as I’m in it too. I have to find a way to destroy him.

The Great Moon Hoax 11/3/17

Within days of the discoveries by Sir John Herschel in 1835, I was summoned. The Gun Club had already been preparing for a launch to the lunar god of night and henceforth, with Bat Men walking on the moon, the time was now. The patriots of the USA always want to be the first in everything and dare say I anything to the contrary. The workers were many but the travelers few—only five of us were shot out of the giant cannon erected by the hundreds. The silver ticket for a ride on the space rocket was due to my craft of language and of the 26 variations I speak, perhaps I was uniquely gifted to reason out the lunar speech in an efficacious manner. When they constructed our vessel at the bottom of the cannon on top of a mountain of gunpowder, it sat 428 feet deep inside the 21 foot diameter barrel. Boom went the earth! The oddest thing of all that I can recall is the lack of sound at the launch. We were hurled into the sky like a speeding train with no track; only a target in the heavens would pull us to victory. Insane am I said my father and for a small measure, I agree. The real reason for my acquiescence of travel is the opportunity to own the discovery of a new language. I want my name beside the greatest explorers like Marco Polo or Captain Cook or Magellan and I will do it in the satisfaction of communication in the language of the Bat Men of the moon. Now hours away, our navigator has said the Gun Club cannon shot was accurate and we only have but to be captured by the atmosphere of the moon to slow us and land in the soft meadows of the Valley of the Unicorn.

Abandoned City 11/16/17

It’s hard to describe. It felt like when you wake up, all groggy and tired and want a glass of water. At least that’s how I remember it. When it happened, my phone read the time as 4:21PM on September 23. I know this because it still reads that. In fact, all the clocks I’ve seen since that moment say that say basic time. I’ve covered the distance between New York City to Washington DC on my motorcycle and every place I’ve been has been abandoned. I’ve had to siphon gas out of other vehicles, since no pumps work. I’ve seen no other being or creature and all the clocks are stuck. The sun hasn’t set since it happened, but I know I’ve slept at least 4 nights because I’m keeping track. When I arrived in DC, I went to the Capital first and no one was there. I drove down Pennsylvania and hopped the fence to get onto the White House lawn. The door was open and I found the house abandoned. I’m a patriot and respect the Office of President, regardless of who is serving, so I was careful there. I thought I might find a working computer or something that was off the grid that could tell me why everyone was gone, but everything was exactly the same as everywhere else—stuck. The “night” went fast and when I awoke in the White House, the clock was still 4:21PM. Maybe my best shot is to head west and see—wait… it looks like a flair just went off outside of my window. It’s pretty far away but it looks like it was launched near the river, next to the Mall. Maybe I’m not alone, abandoned in this time, stuck at 4:21 on September 23. If someone is out there like me, maybe we can somehow unstuck time and get our lives back?

Willie Handler

 

A Thump in the Night 6/15/17

We heard a dull thump every few minutes. We discovered it was the sound of a catapulted foot soldier hitting the castle wall. I leaned over the parapet. There were two catapult on the far side of the moat and two neat line of soldiers behind each one. The invaders were attempting to land soldiers beyond the castle wall. 3 men pull back the catapult and a 4th climbs on it. Thump. Another soldier hits the wall. Below me I could make out a growing mound of mangled soldiers filling up the moat. Then I realized they were not trying to get soldiers over the wall. The pile of soldiers below would soon form a human bridge.

Evil Hypnotist 6/22/17

I return from my lunch session with Dr Zoltari to my job the House Office Building where I’m an aide to the Speaker of the House. Dr Zoltari has been treating me with hypnosis for my anxiety disorder. The last few weeks I’ve been getting really good results. I swipe my access card at the security desk and walk up to the 4th floor offices. I’m early for the 1:30 briefing meeting. I walk into the Speaker’s office to retrieve a file. He’s just finishing a call and waves for me to sit down. When he puts down the phone he turns to me.

“There’s going to be a vote in the House this afternoon.” As soon as he says vote…

My mind goes blank. There is a letter opener on his desk with the congressional seal. I pick it up walk up to the Speaker and Stab him in the throat twisting the letter opener. He drops to the floor dead. I suddenly come out of my trance and scream…

“I killed the Speaker of the House!”

What’s in the Closet? 6/28/17

Our new home was a dream come true until the first night. Shortly before midnight we heard knocking coming from the spare bedroom soon the entire family was awake standing outside the bedroom. Tim turned to me and said Dad I’m scared. I slowly turned the knob and walked in. The room was empty except for the bed and dresser. The knocking was coming from the closet. Tim looked up and said Dad I’m scared. I thought maybe we should wait until morning but then no one would get any sleep. I grabbed a flashlight and pulled the closet door open. It was empty. I turned the flashlight on and shone it around the closet. I finally noticed in the corner a little old man. He blinked at the light in his eyes. Finally he spoke. “Tell my brother there’s nothing in the closet”

Doppelgänger 7/5/17

I pick up a phone.

“It’s Lisa from CIBC Visa. I want to confirm that a $4200 purchase from the Markham Best Buy is valid.”

“WTF! It’s him. What’s the address of the store.”

“200 Parkdale Dr. Are you telling me this is not you?”

I hang up the phone… and jump in my car. About 6 minutes later I’m in the Best Buy parking watching the door. Less than 1 minute a store employee is helping a customer carrying a 70″ TV to a van. I look closely. That customer is me! I run out my car screaming.

“Stop me before I get away.”

My doppelganger sees me and takes off. He runs out of the parking lot onto the highway. He evades several cars before he runs smack into transport truck. I notice ad on the side of the truck is for twin beds.

Themeless Thursday 8/23/17

Buzzz…who is it? Mr. Tizura it’s Lui’s Laundry.

Come return laundry.

Just a sec….come in Mr. Lui.

How much do I owe you Mr. Lui?…hey wait a minute my tanned Hugo Boss pants are missing.

So sorry, you no send pants.

I know I gave you those pants. I planned to wear them tonight.

No pants

You probably delivered to another customer.

No pants

Ok O, I’m going to have to buy another one for tonight

You owe $36

Wait, you charged me for a pair of pants

No pants. Ok $28

That’s not my reflection looking back at me! 8/30/17

The reflection in the mirror looked just like me but something wasn’t right about it. I stared for the longest time at the… reflection and it stared back at me. But it just didn’t see right. I reached out to touch the glass but there wasn’t any… My hand went right through the mirror and touched the person on the other side. My reflection smiled but I wasn’t smiling. Then my reflection grabbed my arm and pulled me in and everything went dark.

A Trip through the Inferno 9/6/17

When I got to the entrance I was greeted by a familiar figure. “Hello I’m Steve Bannon and I will be your guide. We made many stops on the way down to hell. On the 3rd level I saw people in agony forced to watch terrible films like Ishtar. On level 6 I saw this poor woman attempt to build a house of cards over and over again until she was in tears. I began to shake when Bannon took be to level 8. People were forced to eat stale greasy fast food food. Ewww. I tried to turn back when we reached level 9. Sweat poured out of me. The door swung open and he introduced to my new roommate.

Lexi Lefevre

 

Evil Hypnotist 6/22/17

The hypnotist possessed the way we thought, much like those in charge. No one listened until the destruction was too great

What’s in the Closet? 6/28/17

As the anchors of sleep weighed me down, I heard three raps before turning around. Scratches followed, and so did my eyes. When I found the source, I hoped my hazy mind was conjuring lies. A guttural growl came from within.

“Where else but my closet?”

I thought, yet again. Gathering all my courage, my feet found the floor. Too soon did my little hands find the door. It had opened upon the lightest touch, so I peeked inside, not thinking much. A child with raven eyes welcomed me then. Before I could scream, she pulled me in. Darkness consumed me. A cold abyss. ‘Twas the land of demons. Please, remember this.

Doppelganger 7/5/17

She sat in the bookstore cafe, sipping a latte while watching others walk past the window. I saw her on a Thursday. Amber eyes & pastel purple hair. Lip rings & fresh faced. My face. From behind a menu, I spied as she greeted a boy. Their lips met with a sweet smile. My stomach churned, dancing to the deadly song that was my erratic heartbeat. They didn’t stay very long, which brought me ease. When they departed, so did I. What followed was not for the weak. You can’t unsee that much blood. You can’t unhear the zip of tearing flesh. You can’t unsmell fear. She had my face.

The Man from Taured 7/12/17

My eyes open to find a spatter of patterns. As they focus, I realize they belong to a seat. Row upon row of the same. A sensation akin to repetitive tickling drops graces my arm, & I look over to see a little boy.

“Excuse me, Miss.”

Masking my confusion with a smile, I get up to let him out.

“Last stop,” a strange voice fills the bus.

“Hell.”

The corners of my mouth slacken. I dare a peek out the window. Nothing. Tinted beyond the human vision’s capacity. I’m the girl from Taured. All I ask is for the finder of this note to pass it on. Don’t let me disappear forever.

The Mothman Prophecy 7/26/17

Like red traffic lights, the creature’s eyes signaled for us to stop—but before we could, our car’s engine sputtered pops of death. Unsure of how to proceed, we opted to stay in the car, hoping it would leave us. That proved useless, as it approached with calculated steps toward what I began to think would be our vehicular tomb. That was until the winged visitor came to a halt. At a foot away, it shot up into the sky and stared in the direction we were originally heading. Curiosity took fear’s place, and we watched as it re-met our eyes briefly before flying the other way. Said curiosity was also brief. Something wrung my guts, causing panic to rise. It’s a well-known fact that birds flee an area when they sense a disturbance. One look at my boyfriend told me he thought the same thing. There was no phone signal out there, so we got out of the car and ran, hand in hand. One bar. Two bars. Three. A call was made. A cab arrived. We made it home. A day later, local news revealed an infernal surprise. Animals resembling hell hounds had attacked hundreds—a day prior to many Mothman encounters.

It was an Illustrated Man 8/2/17

The free space was no longer vacant. A girl in a mini dress occupied the small area, choppy brown hair framing her forlorn eyes. A spindly man with no face stood behind, hands resting on her shoulders. I leaned in to get a closer look. A stone skipped across my heart when I saw the background: my backyard. With a deep breath to calm myself, I dared another peek at the girl. Lip rings and combat boots. Me. It was me with Slenderman. Great. Even he thinks I’m still fifteen. I’ve got bad news for him.

The Green Children of WoolPit 8/9/17

An elderly man stumbled upon two children who claimed to be from a land of moon and stars. Their skin was green, but so was everything from their home afar. St. Martins, they called it. “Martin. Why, it means ‘of Mars’,” he thought with a serene smile. It faltered as he pondered whether it was an omen of war, but shook the ill words from his head. As time went, the boy seemed to grow blue.

“I can feel this world’s anger & distress. You’d lose your vibrance if you could, too,” he said, a great sorrow muffling his voice.

However, his sister’s face held indifference, and the man thought he’d glimpsed a smile as she walked away—while the brother’s body became more frail and frayed. Weary eyes followed her every step ’til she was gone from the room. It was then, the boy called forth the ears which would hear the future’s doom.

“Do not allow hate to thrive. It will tear the earth to pieces. Nurture one another with love and—” he whispered, but alas, as he fought to finish the last of his warning, the child disintegrated to dust. The man watched them scatter to the skies. It almost always rains in England.

The Dyatlov Pass 8/16/17

I awoke to searing stabs all over my feet. Upon a brief investigation, I found that my boots somehow escaped while I slept. With sheer panic, I played the mental waiting game of do-I-need-to-amputate while fighting to warm my near-numb toes. After what I thought was the longest moment of my life, the pain subsided & all feeling returned. When my heartbeat slowed to a healthier pace, I moved to leave the tent, but the creeping whispers of my subconscious had snatched the decision away like a seemingly unfortunate snag at a most opportune time. So, I opted to leave a small gap of that thin shield unzipped—just enough to peek from. What I witnessed that day has failed to bid farewell to even the deepest recesses of my memories. A humanoid creature with the wings of a bat and eyes of an abyss stood before our campsite. It killed all my friends. I don’t know why I was spared. However, I do know what greets me at every mirror’s gaze. That same crimson sneer & victorious leer. Hello, sweet insanity. My, oh, my. Which monsters shall we attempt to feed today? Those that plant seeds or all that slay?

That’s not my reflection looking back at me! 8/30/17

Mirrors and I have had a strained relationship since childhood. With tales of opposites from another dimension and those of bloody spirits embedded in my thoughts from the moment I turned 8, reflections just don’t look the same.

It happened at a sleepover. My friends decided to play that stupid game: Bloody Mary. You’re supposed to summon an angry spirit that’d gouge your eyes out. Although it sounded tempting (hint hint: sarcasm), I opted out of such an enthralling activity. They didn’t. Being left alone outside of a dark, locked bathroom that was dimly lit by a lone candle was fine by me.

Minutes passed. I waited. Part of me thought it was a silly scare tactic while another kept open for possibilities I didn’t want to fathom. Still don’t.

After a while, they emerged from my little bedroom lavatory, unscathed and unshaken. We all giggled about how fake the story was, but I think all of us knew something had changed. The air was somehow thicker, and the closer we got to the bathroom, the clearer each fog of breath got—but it was winter, so we chalked it up to a draft.

Later that night, I needed to pee. Badly. An unknown fear had grabbed hold of my gut, telling me it was unwise to go alone. Nonsense, right? It was my house, after all. Keep in mind that I’d just turned 8. The 7 year old in me went ahead and threw that logic where it couldn’t be seen. Thankfully, I managed to convince my best friend to go with me. She was also too afraid to enter that tainted room.

Things moved along as usual. Pee, wipe, wash and dry hands. Done. Not done. I stared at her reflection as I waited for her to finish washing up—but when she turned towards the towels, it stayed.

Paralyzed, I couldn’t look away as it lifted its head to smile at me. My friend must’ve seen how terrified I was because she screamed, and right before slamming the door, the girl in the mirror winked. It felt like she was saying, “it’ll be our little secret.”

A Trip through the Inferno 9/6/17

A gentle flurry kissed my face, wresting me from slumber. When I opened my eyes, the bright sky greeted me. I must have fallen asleep before finishing the tree house.

Having spent hours in a roofless abode, I was surprised to feel as warm as I did. Perhaps it was the comforter wrapped around my body, or the eerie absence of winds. I’d never seen the evergreens so still on a winter morning.

As if Mother Nature heard my thoughts, a gust carried the film of snow from the branch directly above me, landing on my face like a mask.

The realization was almost instant: I hadn’t come home last night.

While scrambling from the tree house with trepidation, my feet got caught on the comforter, resulting in yours truly falling several feet to the ground—or so I thought. Everything in me braced for impact, but only felt heat.

Father must have noticed I was gone, and before I knew it, I found myself upon a cave. The entrance to an inferno that many mortals fear above all else. A place where you can hear the damned crying for a saviour that will never come.

I call it “home”.

The Jersey Devil 9/13/17

I’ve been hired to seek out a dark creature that locals have feared for hundreds of years: a monster said to have a kangaroo-like body with bat wings and a goat’s head—but what worries me are its claws and their tendency to shred the nearest human apart. I quite enjoy being fully intact, thank you very much.

Protected in a bulletproof suit with mini bible-thick books glued to the inside for good measure, I venture into the Pine Barrens.

There is not a chirp of a cricket nor buzz of a cicada to accompany my troubled breaths. I wonder if it’ll shriek before attacking, or if it’ll pursue me at all. It’d be for sport, of course. I don’t believe there’s enough flesh on my bones for even the lightest snack.

It feels like a different world here, as if time doesn’t exist. Nothing is birthed. Nothing dies. Everything exists in suspension. Limbo.

*crack* The abruptness startles me the way cucumbers frighten my cat, Mittens. I promptly turn towards the sound, crossbow at face level. Image-wise he’s everything they claimed him to be, but not a spark of intimidation tickles my skin. Deborah’s given spawn exudes a human air about him.

Well, butternuts. I flew to New Jersey to meet something/someone who seems afraid of me: all of under 6′ tall in a kevlar ball of sass.

“Hello.”

Genius. What if he doesn’t speak English? Or at all?

Minutes go by. He stands silent—until his lips part, splitting his face in two. A shriek escapes into the sky, and the clouds rain on the parched earth surrounding us.

“Where’s my mother?” he asks, suddenly enraged by my presence.

She gave her last son to the devil, so I have a fairly good idea.

“Hell,” I say.

Dejected, he inquires how to get there. I suppose the reason I’m here may not be pointless after all, and so I answer by shooting an arrow into his disconsolate-featured head.

Even his death brings no life to this place. No dried dirt to dust the air. No thud to greet the open space. He simply drops without a sound, for a misunderstood being’s end brings no joy or resolution.

Death only brings death.

Themeless Thursday with a Twist 9/20/17

I admired his face from afar. Oh, how he’d bled. With every feature thoroughly marred, I whispered, “I thee wed.”

A soul so bright, I hadn’t the slightest inclination of the darkness that lurked within. We danced and fed with glee and fervour, celebrating every deadly sin.

“My dear, there’s a secret I must confess,” he said to me. So, I leaned in closer, clutching his tie, for his words I did need.

Silence greeted me in the form of a kiss. Such naivety I possessed, as it was the beginning of a deadly, eternal bliss.

In that moment, he stole my heart. Draining me of everything, still, the world became a slew of treacle tart.

There once was a boy I thought I knew, whose love was verily due.

Born in Sin: Pride 10/25/17

The world had been surprisingly hushed since the gates of hell were pried open, but I suspected it wouldn’t be for long.

With seven crystals in my possession, I got on a bus at six AM on the sixth day of the sixth month, wishing I’d also been given an invisibility cloak to hide my unfamiliar face from the prideful city-folk of Orgill, for among them was none other than the supposed “light bringer” himself: Lucifer.

Rumours of his whereabouts insisted he was living as a dapper bachelor with a most common surname like Williams or Johnson. I knew that to be thoroughly untrue. Lucifer, a regular citizen? No. He made himself a cozy home in the mayor—and I had to figure out a way to catch him like a Pokemon.

Orgill was the cleanest city I’d ever visited, and the residents knew one another in the way you would expect from small towns in Horror movies, oozing the nothing-bad-ever-happens-here vibe with a fishy aftertaste to churn your gut like it’s making butter.

Being alone didn’t help.

I rented an apartment for a month, blending in as best I could. No one looked my way unless it was to give a nod of acknowledgement. Things went well—until the seventh day of the seventh month on the seventeenth hour.

“Mayor Sonny Ridge” called for an emergency meeting at city hall.

Everyone was required attendance. To keep up with the masquerade, I briskly walked there with my head held high and an aching smile that I had no doubt would later numb my face. My goodness, I must have looked like a deranged Kewpie doll with brown eyes. Those people were pros.

Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending which perspective you choose—before my feet met the marble floor of the grounds, “Ridge” had said something that melted everyone into a smudge of red faces, blood, and shiny weapons.

So, that’s when I decided to sneak towards the man/angel himself. He stood on stage with an eerily serene smile, and as I got closer, I swore I saw his form shift like a faulty hologram. He went from man to a winged being with horns on his head: a glorified Hellboy.

Thinking it’s now or never, I retrieved his crystal prison from my dress pocket. As soon as he turned to face me, it sucked him in. “Who you gonna call? A terrified twenty year old girl who has no idea what to do now,” I whispered to myself. Shaking but relieved, I took a deep breath and turned to inspect the damage.

That’s when things slid into a hapless moment. Those who were still alive were staring at me with the most vicious sneers. If I could re-gift them, I’d reserve every single one for the nastiest people on earth.

“Oh, fu—”

 

AJ Upton

A Thump in the Night 6/15/17

With a simple hand-lamp, he turned towards the noise.*clank* There it was again. The dim light visibly shook as he took a step. It barely shone to the far end of the room, but he knew just beyond lay a darkness, far beyond shadow. It was stalking. *clank*

“Who’s there dammit!”

There was no response, nor was there a further echoing clatter- just the sound of his pounding heart.

Evil Hypnotist 6/22/17

Bruce found himself at the red-painted curb of Elm Street, yet he didn’t know why. In fact, he didn’t remember walking there. The sweltering heat furthered his swimming head, and he looked around for some sense of understanding. It was busy- likely noon. Without thinking, he wiped his right hand down the pocket of his linen suit jacket. The lump there felt heavy, even foreboding. Reaching in, sweat beginning to bead; he felt the cool metal of a gun. Nothing seemed real anymore- nothing but a need to kill.

What’s in the Closet? 6/28/17

The seconds seemed years as he leaned into the open closet. It was cautious, hands firm on the sill, yet he felt vulnerable. The noise had stopped, but had it continued, there’d be no sign of its origin in such darkness. It was a black he’d never seen. “What is it?” A nervous voice fluttered, but he didn’t respond. He couldn’t, for now he saw a dim reflection of himself. Drawing closer, he could see it laughing. Dead eyes. The image drew him in through terror, and he could feel himself dissipate.

Doppelganger 7/517

Pulling tight the ropes, he backed up to view ‘himself’ bound to the chair. Even with a bloody mouth, his other self-laughed.

“What’s so funny asshole?” He punched the doppelganger again.

“I finally have you, and now I’m gunna end you.”

He only spit.

“You don’t even know, do you?” The beast licked his lips.

“It would be funny if it wasn’t so damn frustrating.”

“What’s that?”

His other self-leaned his head back with a groan- blood dripping to his chin.

“You’re the doppelganger idiot. Always have been.”

It was an Illustrated Man 8/2/17

The dancing flames played a ripple of colors on the empty spot of skin. I didn’t even move, yet my vision seemed to close in. Like in a tunnel, my mind passed through- heated- bombarded my images of places I’ve never been. Places I wouldn’t go. Like a slow blade, some invisible force pulled me apart, invaded me, and my soul became open to a moment in a time still distant. I could make out an end, maybe my end, but the body before me seemed strange. A dead man sprawled out in an alley- a fate.

“Could it be me… there… lying in a lonely filth?”

Only the wind replied, and I knew not what it said. I only knew the loss. It was the city that would kill me. I knew that now. My only recourse was to not return. To stay outside the norms I’d created.

Megan Hinde

Bump in the Night 6/15/17

I stood facing the dark corner of the room. I could make out a figure within the shadows “Who’s there?” I asked. I felt a shiver run up my spine. *thump, thump*

The shadowy figure moved towards me. *thump, thump*

The figure moved towards the light. My breath caught in my throat. *thump* it moved closer. “Dad, is that you?” I couldn’t move

What’s in the Closet? 6/28/17

She shivered under the covers that were pulled up tight to her chin. Her eyes transfixed on the cross shaped nightlight… that illuminated her bedroom. The closet door was slightly ajar she watched in silence as a shadowy figure pushed the door open. It slithered across her floor and tore the nightlight from the wall. Her breath quickened she tried to scream. It slipped under her sheets and grabbed her by the ankles. Snatching her from her bed and vanishing into the closet with her.

Doppelganger 7/5/17

Laura unlocked and entered her apartment. She switched on a lamp,

“What are you doing here?” a voice asks.

Laura turned to face a woman that looked hauntingly similar to herself.

“I live here,” she stated.

“Not anymore,” the women said

The women got up and approached Laura.

“Sweetie, you are no longer you, I am now you,”

Laura was taken aback,

“What does that mean?”

“It means my associate here is going to kill you,” The Woman pointed towards a tall figure standing in the corner. Laura turned grabbed the door knob, flung open the door and ran out of the apartment building.

“Well go get her,” The Woman demanded.

The tall man headed out after her.

“That didn’t go well,” The Woman said as she sat.

The Man from Taured 7/12/17

Sitting in my room, trying to wrap my head around all that has happened. Maybe a drink and a shower will help clear my mind. I wander over to the bar and pour myself a tall glass of Scotch with a splash of soda. I drink and gaze out the window. I finish off my drink and shed my clothes. I turn on the shower and let the warm water wash over me. I lather up with the flower scented soap provided by the hotel and rinse off. I turn of the water and step out of the shower, I grab the oversized bath towel, wrap it around myself. I open the bathroom door and I am no longer in the hotel. I look around, I am home

The Mothman Prophecy 7/26/17

Sandra and Tim get out of the car. They start to look around, when suddenly a cold wind rushes over them. A tall, slender, dark figure grabs Sandra by the throat and holds her against the car. Its long boney fingers and claw like nails dig into her neck. Tim watches in horror as it speaks into Sandra’s ear. Sandra is shaking will fear as it tells her of what is to come.

“Very soon there will be death and destruction,” it whispers in her ear. Sandra listens to the hideous figure as it tells her

“There will be a large gathering of people, it will erupt from deep down, taking everyone there with it,” Sandra’s eyes start to water. It tells her of a place she has never been, and a date that is yet to come. It releases Sandra and vanishes. Sandra turns to face Tim tears streaming down her face.

“We have to go, we have to warn them,” Sandra gets back into the car.

Tim joins her in the car. “Warn who? And where are we going?”

Themeless Thursday 8/23/17

So I am not going to lie, I enjoy reading erotica, seriously who doesn’t. I especially enjoy the short experience stories. I came across this one particular story. It was titled “The Yellow School Chair” it peaked my curiosity, so I clicked on it. The Yellow School Chair

From the moment I laid eyes on her, I wanted her. She was hot, short, curvy but cute. I showed her the archive room; no one ever goes in there. It was a room full of bookshelves, boxes and clutter. I pulled out a yellow plastic school chair and placed it in the middle of the room. I asked her to have a seat. I walked around her, standing behind her; I ran my hands down her neck rolling my thumb over the scar at the base of her neck. I stopped reading; I reached up and ran my fingers across the back of my neck. There is no way that this is… one of my personal experiences that someone else is writing about. It is a small world and all, but what are the chances…

Themeless with a Twist 9/20/17

Vivian opened her eyes, realizing that she was on the ground; she pushed herself up into a sitting position.

“What the hell,”

She was sitting on damp leaves, surrounded by trees. The wind gusted sending a shiver through her. Vivian ran her hands along her bare arms and wondered where her sweater had gotten to.

She stood up and the world spun. Forcing her to take a few steps quickly, she regained her balance, and began to look around. Something caught her eye, in the distance, as she stumbled towards it she recognized the objects on the ground. Vivian picked up her phone and her sweater. She pulled her arms through her sweater and buttoned it up.

“Of course no service,”

She found what seemed to be a path and headed out of the wooded area. She emerged from the woods onto a dirt road.

“Thank God,”

She walked along the road as she kept checking her phone for a sign of life. Twilight had begun and the sun was slipping beneath the horizon. All of a sudden her phone chimed. 15 missed calls from Francine.

“What the fuck,”

She scrolled through the contact list and pushed call.

“Where the hell are you?” Francine answered.

“I’m not quite sure, I think I am somewhere off of route 18,”

“I’ll come find you,”

“What happened?” Vivian asked.

“I am not sure, we’ll discuss it when I get you,” Francine said.

Francine pulled up alongside Vivian; she opened the door and got in. Francine leaned across and gave her a hug.

“Are you ok?” Francine asked.

“I think so, but how did I end up out here?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Last thing I remember, we were going to the carnival,” Vivian answered.

Francine started to drive home towards Overland.

“We were at the carnival, we went to watch an act on the main stage, ring any bells?” Francine explained.

“Vaguely, it was a magician?”

“A hypnotist,”

“So what happened?”

“You went on stage, he whispered something in your ear and then you just…lost it. You picked up an arrow that had been left on stage from the last act, and you… you stabbed him in the neck with it,” Francine took a deep breath and looked at Vivian.

Vivian stared out the window.

“Then what happened?”

“You ran off stage, and disappeared,” Francine said.

“How long ago?”

“Three days,”

One last Phone Call 11/30/17

The sun had just dipped beneath the horizon, as I gazed out at the ocean. We were on a family vacation, of sorts, dad had passed and mom felt it necessary to go see the ocean. Standing with my toes in the cool sand, watching the waves roll by, my phone buzzed. I looked down at the caller ID, ‘Dad’ I took a deep breath and answered.

“Hello,”

“Hey, sweetie,”

“Dad?” my eyes filled with tears at the sound of his voice.

“Yes, Meg it’s me, just wanted to tell you that I love you and that it will all be ok,”

With tears streaming down my cheeks I answer.

“I love you to,”

The phone goes silent, the sun has set. I close my eyes and listen to the waves slapping against the shore.

 

Guy S Ricketts

What’s in the Closet? 6/15/17

Laughter, the kind heard in sitcoms, draws me to those closet doors. I turn on my flashlight & slowly open it to investigate. Someone stands inside the darkness, & as I shine my light, it is Greg Brady! Greg Brady? He invites me in, & the door closes behind us. I see Lucy Ricardo (?) has closed us inside! She & Greg warmly laugh at my obvious jitters, assuring me I am w/friends. Greg walks further& Lucy takes my hand as we follow. We hear chewing, & see Edith Bunker sitting among bones on the floor. Blood runs from her mouth. Then Greg & Lucy each grab me by an arm, their eyes red & wild! Their teeth chew my arms as canned laughter echoes louder & louder

Doppelgänger 7/5/17

My life is in ruins. I lost my job, my girl, my entire family. No one speaks to me, but to tell me they’re certain it is me who caused all the grief. Their certainty breeds uncertainty in me,& I’m on a chase after this other me. I travel all over running into angry people who already met my doppelgänger. They make me pay the band for his evil dances. I must find him fast. I find him in Toledo. He has a beautiful wife. A great job. A future. I’ve always been a screw-up. This me is a better me than I ever was. I take out a gun to end him. But I blow my own brains out. Hell, I couldn’t kill him and take his life over. I only would a messed it all up anyway

The Man from Taured 7/12/17

The man awakens in the middle of the night to someone climbing into bed with him. He immediately realizes this is his wife, and he was somehow back in his own bed, in his own home. Inquiring when he had returned home and relating his odd experience in Japan his wife is more amused than concerned. She assures him it was merely a double-pepperoni-pizza-induced dream, and he needs to get his sleep for the big experiment tomorrow.

“What big experiment?” he asks.

“Our president and the U.S. President Adlai Stevenson will be attending your demonstration of that dimensional portal you and your team discovered. How could you forget that?”

The Mothman Prophecy 7/26/17

Ross & Videl search an abandoned farm at night. Ross seeks proof of a mysterious Mothman, while Videl only seeks amusement. A recent sighting in 1973 brings the two men here. Ross is on a mission, while Videl appears skeptical. His doubts anger Ross & the quiet farmhouse irritates him more.

“His eyes are fiery red, his wings are white. Keep your eyes open.” Videl merely smiles.

A noise draws their attention, Ross dashes in its direction. He enters a room & his light falls on a fresh corpse. Ross gasps, then hears laughter. It is Videl. Ross swings around in anger, then feels the air flee his lungs; Videl’s eyes pierce his soul with their fiery red light.

The Dyatlov Pass 8/16/17

Russian authorities have taken me a couple kilometers from the carnage, to an unassuming building in the wild. They question me for hours.

“We didn’t realize there were ten of you,” one says. I remain silent. They grow more and more frustrated with my silence, and I just note elapsed time on my watch. Finally, one of them removes my watch in frustration. “There!” he screams in my face.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself now?”

I have two words: “Yelko! Now!”

The door bursts open, and my Yeti pet tears into my captors, but the much like she did at that Dyatlov Pass.

Born in Sin: Pride 10/25/17

The chase after Pride is on. My crystal has led me to an abandoned castle in Scotland, where Pride has engaged me in combat. The brief training I received w/the crystal has allowed me to fight off attacks, but Pride has gone into hiding. I have to be ready for anything. A beautiful woman steps from the shadows. She has dark hair, dark eyes & olive complexion. Kind of resembles my old college flame. Ah, yes. I was warned Pride might take on a pleasing form to disarm me and avoid capture. This one might have worked 30 years ago. Not today. I squeeze the crystal in my hand & point it at her. But she has changed her appearance. Now she is tall, blonde, w/mischievous blue eyes. Pride has taken the form of a more recent flame & she moves in for a kiss. Unable to resist, we are lip-locked, and Pride grabs the crystal from my hand. In my weakened state, I make a half-hearted grasp to retrieve the crystal, which fails. Unable to resist gloating, Pride snaps it open, but notices her reflection. Mesmerized by her own beauty and oh so certain of her victory, Pride is caught off-guard and finds herself pulled into the crystal and it snaps closed, capturing her essence inside. I pick up the smoking crystal and put it into my mystical satchel, wondering how I will manage to capture the others

One Last Phone Call 11/30/17

I return homes from my brother’s funeral and just sit in the dark and silence, pondering the recent loss of Gordon. My cellphone breaks the silence. “Hello?” There is static at first, then a faint voice returns my greeting:

“Hello, little brother.”

“Bob? Lloyd?”

I am uncertain which of my remaining brothers this could be, the voice too masculine to be sister Bonny or Jean.

“Just wanted to talk with you and let you know everything is alright,” the voice continued.

Uncertain which brother I was speaking with, we became involved in a long, meaningful reminiscence of our pasts. We talked about brother James, who left us all too soon, and Dad, too. We discussed Mom mostly, who passed away over a decade ago; her laugh, her spirit, her gentle, guiding soul. Even her rooster imitation which always made us laugh, including now.

Then, he said he had to go.

“Wait. I’m sorry, this connection isn’t very clear … but which big brother are you?”

I heard a soft laugh. “I gotta go now. Ma’s calling me over to her porch for a chat.”

“Mom is – ?” was all I could muster.

“It’s beautiful here,” the voice continued. “No more pain, my brother. No more Vietnam. Only joy. I’ve never been happier.” I still couldn’t find my voice. “Oh, Mom and brother Jimmy say hello & send their love.”

“Gordon?” my astonishment finally allowing me to speak.

I love you, little brother,” he continued. “Happy thoughts. Bye for now.”

Suddenly, I sit up in my chair. It is still dark and silent as I look about. “Must’ve been all a weird dream,” I tell myself. Yet my cellphone is in my hand, and it tells me I apparently just received a call from ‘unknown caller’. Could it be? I ask myself. Just then, I hear an inexplicable rooster cry from off in the distance, a rather odd sound to hear on a city block. But I understand. A solitary tear runs down my cheek, to meet my melancholy smile.

Chris Smedbakken

 

What’s in the Closet? 6/28/17

Once upon a midnight dreary

I was lying, tired and weary

cause that cursed closet door’s creak

And I dared first not inquire

of what terror, deep and dire

Might be hiding in the darkness

past that creaking closet door.

woke me up some time before.

In the end, though, in my terror

did I realize the error

of me fearing some old furniture

just standing on my floor.

So I held my breath and opened

it but lost each trace of hope when

I beheld the horror hidden in that space of childish lore.

I saw to my great fear a

mad frothing cloth chimera

of all my lost socks missing from before

I said “fuck” and closed the door.

Doppelganger 7/5/17

A dark and stormy night I walked along a lonesome shore

When far off in the mist there stalked

a shape I’d seen before

Its steps were heavy, head was low its fingers beckoned me.

Uneasiness began to grow; this wasn’t meant to be.

I turned to flee but in my wake

the wanderer took chase.

“Please let me be, for heaven’s sake”

and then I saw its face.

The horror that consumed me then

was colder than the mist.

It froze me so I hardly felt when

fingers grabbed my wrist.

For finally did I now see

what part of me had known;

The hungry eyes that stared at me

were very much my own.

The Man for Taured 7/12/17

In the year of fifty four

came a plane down from the sky

with a pilot from Taured

And he tidings bore

of a land they didn’t know

though their maps claimed this was a fraud

And when night followed day

they all settled to say:

“Let us lock him up inside”

For they didn’t understand

that this riddle shrouded land

was the place they’d all go when they died.

And this pilot through his strife

had escaped back to life

Done what few had done before

But when locks forced him to stop

fate did finally catch up

and dragged him back through the veil to Taured.

The Mothman Prophecy 7/26/17

Its eyes more red than any sun

I ever saw before

Its words so chilling, voice so cold

It froze me to the core

The darkness had it shrouded but

Still clearly did I see

That from its back protruded wings

A nightmare fantasy

“I know the future”, thus it spoke

“As clear as then and now”

The raspy voice ground forth the words

“A glimpse I shall allow”

I listened then and listened well

Cause what he had to tell

Could all too clearly be the thing

That’d save us all from hell.

“Horrendous things have passed before

But nothing can compare

To what will soon befall you if

You do not all beware”

“A toxic cloud shall block the sun,

The rivers shall run black

When birds fall dead out of the sky

There is no turning back.”

“All men shall die, all women too,

all children just the same.

And in a century from now

no tongues shall speak your name.”

I stood there staring, couldn’t speak

Could barely breathe at all

The burning gaze of those two eyes

made me a helpless thrall

And when it spoke again I knew

It’d picked me for a cause

“This is a warning for your kind

In spite of all your flaws”

“To save yourselves a future you

will have to change your ways

And cease destruction of this world

Before you end its days.”

“When you do this, and only then

you’ve fled the darkest fate.

But time is short, so do make haste

For soon it is too late.”

Those words it spoke, then turned away

and left me in the gloom,

despairing that we’d never care

enough to thwart this doom.

Born in Sin: Pride 10/25/17

I found the village sleeping

or that was what I thought

But when I dared edge closer

the sight had me distraught

For all across the hamlet

the people were awake

Indulging in vain antics and

conceit of every make

Some locked in front of mirrors

some by indignant frays

And others yet were lost inside

a supercilious craze

And all this madness hailed from

the village center square

The music drew me closer;

I knew I must go there

I clenched the crystal tightly

and sent a prayer up high

Aware it was an angel,

though fallen, I’d defy

And then I entered boldly

into the market place

Heart racing quicker than my mind,

a stern look on my face

The villagers had seen me,

and armed they closer drew.

But then a cold voice stopped them:

“Ah, I did wait for you”.

And suddenly before me

the angel in his might

Surrounded by an aura

of blinding, humbling light

I stood there as if frozen

Too shocked to fight or flee

For there before me towered a

perfected form of me

Again now spoke the angel

“I’ll grant you what you see

and all the fame you covet if you

pledge yourself to me”.

And shamefully it tempted,

it almost made me slip

But then I felt the crystal burn

like fire in my grip.

I raised my hand and watched as

bright rays of light burst out

to engulf the hubric angel

before he could but shout

And dawn broke on the village,

the townsfolk shocked and dazed

Like all had been a nightmare

now gone without a trace

I left in the confusion

and thusly it begins:

I walked off in the sunrise on

the hunt for six more sins.

Born in Sin: Greed 10/26/17

Next dawn I reached a city

its walls were made of gold

Its people heaped with riches

and endless wealth of old

And towering above it

in contest with the skies

There was a ruinous castle

its windows full of eyes

My courage almost left me

when I my gaze let glide

Up to its very summit

and saw what hid inside

For from the rooftop terrace

a pair of eyes met mine

And those two eyes were yellow;

I knew this was a sign

And when it left the shadows

I could make no mistake

For from its wolf like body grew

a tail as from a snake

And as I stood there frozen

the fiend let out a roar

And avaricious thralls swarmed

out every gate and door

“Can you see that crystal?”

the demon frothed on.

“This thief has stolen it from you,

retrieve it or it’s gone”.

The people fell upon me,

drew blood and cursed my name

I fled towards the castle,

my lungs and veins aflame

I darted up the staircase,

and still the mob gave chase

Within my hand the crystal

was already ablaze

I fell onto the rooftop

and quickly shut the door

And suddenly stood face to face

with the fiend I’d seen before

“You’re Mammon” I said, trembling

and saw the monster nod

Its vicious smile grew wider

“You stand before a god”

“You people will obey me

because it’s in your blood

To strive for gold and glory,

so bow now in the mud”

“My favour lends you riches,

your pledge will give you wealth

And if you feed on others

I’ll also grant you health.”

“But if you still defy me

you know how this shall end.

Your death will be more painful

than you can comprehend.”

I hesitated briefly

then went down on my knee

“Please spare my life, and in return

accept this gift from me”

I offered forth the crystal

now glowing like a blaze.

The demon reached out hungrily,

a mad look on his face.

But in the very instant

he closed his claws around

the gem its light exploded

and magic had him bound.

Unsteadily I stood up,

and heard the people call

And realized my triumph

had not cured them at all

They screamed at me in anger

and gave the door a thud

And I knew Mammon had not lied;

The greed is in our blood

So I fled from the castle,

not once did I look back

Luxuria was out there,

and I was on its track.

Born in Sin: Lust 10/27/17

Night found me in a city

so normal from without

With market, church and houses

but then I heard a shout

I hurried to the rescue but

imagine my surprise

when insight struck me there was

deep pleasure in those cries

See, underneath the streetlights

in homes and every court

There took place fornication

and orgies of each sort

I found myself so dumbstruck

that I could only stare

Entirely did I forget

to watch and to beware

And punishment came quickly

as from I know not where

I felt hands wrap around me

and tangle in my hair

Before my scream escaped me

there stepped before my gaze

A being oh so perfect

my mind was wrapped in haze

Its body was perfection

no thread obscured its skin

And as it touched my face I burned

with fires from within.

My quest now all forgotten

I let the crystal fall

It hit the ground and just like that

I was a helpless thrall.

I don’t know what’s the number

of hours, nights and days

I let drift by in mist before

I woke up from this daze

But wake I did in horror

of what I had let pass

In panic and unclothed I scrambled,

searching in the grass

Relief was otherworldly

when suddenly I found

The prison crystal lying there

untouched upon the ground

But barely did I grab it

when somewhere close behind

Seductive words addressed me:

“Oh look, what did you find?”

I turned and faced the demon

for with the crystal back

I saw as clear as day my foe

as masks began to crack

Where once I saw perfection

a monster now prevailed

Three heads and wings and bird’s feet,

completed by a tail.

And yet the helpless townsfolk

persisted in their vice

Like they still could not see the fiend

before their very eyes.

I had found Asmodeus,

the avatar of Lust

That he had touched me filled me with

both anger and disgust

I hid the gem behind me when

the demon drew in close

“Let you and I lay down here”

and I did not oppose.

But as the lustful angel

embraced me for a kiss

I struck him with the crystal

and he let out a hiss

A flash of light, then nothing

the angel was no more

And I stood naked and alone

and shaken to the core.

The city also silenced

as all its folk came to

And realized that they were

as used and naked too

As people fled to safety

and hid behind locked doors

I searched and found my clothes and

then walked into the moors

With three sins bound and captured

just four of them remained

Not til it all was over would I

grieve the scars I’d gained.

Born in Sin: Envy 10/28/17

The sea was crashing madly

towards the empty shore

And lightning lit the heavens

along with thunder’s roar

The port town seemed abandoned as

I entered in the rain

But looks can be deceiving when

you deal with the profane

Thus I resumed with caution

and soon I reached the sea

And well there I discovered what

fate had in store for me

For there amongst the surges a

monstrosity emerged

A serpent from the depths of Hell

repulsive and unpurged

And as I watched it slither

there rose up from the waves

the people of the village

turned into green eyed slaves

Undead they came towards me

a hunger in their eyes

And moaning accusations

filled with the demon’s lies

They hungered for my life force

they hungered for my quest

Denying me in envy

those things and all the rest

Aversely I conceded

that these people were lost

I could not bring them back from

the line that they had crossed

So I brandished my weapon,

the magic staff of myth

That angels once did grant me

to banish darkness with

The glowing staff before me

I fought my way ahead

Attempting to convince myself

they were already dead

When finally I stood there

right at the water’s brim

The demon pierced me with his gaze

I stared right back at him

“So this is what it comes to”,

the snake hissed with a grin

“You’ve come to meet Invida,

the fourth and mightiest sin?”

I nodded then in silence

and suddenly I knew

That all the power he possessed

was actually my due

For after all my triumphs

why should not also I

Be blessed with all the powers

befalling those up high?

A sudden rage did fill me –

I was worth more than so

And thus I raised my staff again

and fell upon my foe

And I struck out in anger

to take back what was mine

But some why the staff failed me and

the snake did me entwine

I fought with all my strength but

the demon only laughed

“Your puny tools can’t harm me when

you’ve fallen for my craft”

With that he bared his fangs and

my will began to shake

For suddenly I realized

my fatal, grave mistake

I’d fallen for his envy

and let it cloud my mind

And now the snake would kill me

how had I been so blind?

But as fangs closed around me

I struck a final blow

And my relief was endless when

the staff began to glow

The snake screamed out in terror as

I pierced right through its eye

It slithered back in panic but

it still refused to die

The snake called Leviathan

tried both to beg and bribe

But I had learned the hard way not to

listen to his tribe

The crystal’s light burst forth then,

outshone the thundering sky

And when the flash subsided

alone stood only I

Despite another triumph

a sadness filled my soul

For so many had died here

for me to reach my goal

In silence I retreated,

without turning around

Not looking at the bodies

still lying on the ground

A fourth sin was defeated

but at a heavy cost

And as I journeyed on I knew

that innocence was lost.

Born in Sin: Gluttony 10/29/17

Flies swarmed above the rooftops

each cranny and each nook

Their buzzing close to deafening

I couldn’t bear to look

And worse yet was the odor

that rose up from the town

I felt my stomach turning and

could barely keep it down

Still this was almost nothing

to what I soon would see;

The state inside the city

became too much for me

Each surface cloaked in mucus

both putrid and decayed

And people rolled around here

and ate and drank and played

I almost turned around then,

unable to withstand

The scene that played before me

too gross to understand

Then everything suspended

when somewhere further down

the street was heard a calling

to all the folks in town

And just like that the orgy

was cut without ado

And all the soddy people

walked off as if on cue

I followed at a distance

to where they all were bound

And when I saw what called them

I threw up on the ground

For what had called these people

with such a throaty roar:

A bulbous, monstrous creature

phlegm oozing from each pore

And all these fallen people

were gathering for a feast

To feed upon the liquids

that leaked out from the beast

Now nauseous and trembling

I fought a fainting spell

Aware the swollen demon

would take me if I fell

And that’s when I was spotted

and all the eating ceased

As drooling people closed in

as for another feast

The seconds felt like lifetimes

as I ransacked my brain

In search for the solution

to save me from this bane

And when the answer struck me

I shrank back in disgust

But lacking other options

I still did what I must

I grabbed the closest person

and bit into this boy

While putting up the act this was

A culinary joy

And this confused the people

and soon they looked around

And realized their kinsmen were

a feast of flesh abound

A massacre ensued then,

a gluttonous battue

And there amidst the carnage

I stealthily withdrew

The demon lay there waiting

as I drew close to it

He searched for words to sway me

but glut had cloyed his wit

“It’s you who’ve killed these people”

I said and pointed back

“Your gluttonous infection

has led them down this track”

And Beelzebub struck out then

but glut had made him slow

I parried with the crystal

and trapped him with its glow

The flash lit up the city,

reflected in its gore

And when the light subsided

the demon was no more

But all the fated people

lay sprawling in the dirt

Some dead and other dying

and none of them unhurt

I desperately wanted

to aid them in their plight

But duty called me elsewhere and

I slipped into the night

Five demons in the crystal

another two still free

Would I succeed ‘fore madness

could claim the rest of me?

Born in Sin: Sloth 10/30/17

While dragging myself onward

my nerves just barely checked

I reached by noon a city

not sure what to expect

I entered, it was quiet

and nothing moved or stirred

The silence was imposing and

I dared not say a word

But then I came upon them

the people of this town

They lay around despondent,

all grey and beaten down

They lacked even the strength to

take care to eat or drink

The whole town was so hopeless

I knew not what to think

Then suddenly I saw him

enthroned upon a chair

The semblance of an old man

with shaggy, whitened hair

But he was yelling curses in

a foul, unworldly voice

And told the heartsick people they

were worthless with no choice

I realized that this was

indeed the one I sought

That this old man was Belphegor,

demonic prince of Sloth

That he indeed was feeding

on this encumbered crowd

By telling them all’s pointless

until he had them cowed

An anger grew inside then

caused by what I did see

And I just drew my staff when

he turned his eyes on me

And suddenly his words were

resounding in my head

Reminding me of horrors of

abuse and of the dead

The memories played before me

off all I had been through

And insight struck me failure follows

all I say and do

I found myself in shock then

tears streaming down my face

I’d hurt so many people

while focused on my chase

I sat down on the pavement

just staring straight ahead

Eyes empty, spirit dying

limbs heavier than lead

And Belphegor came closer

chair gliding on its wheels

He taunted me and laughed that

I’d failed all my ideals

I knew that he was right then

and that I wouldn’t fight

the demon when he killed me as

it would just serve me right

But suddenly a burning

began to sear my skin

The crystal in my pocket

was waking me from sin

And I blinked my eyes open

at last able to see

That Belphegor had used my plight

to take control of me

I stared into his eyes then

all suddenly awake

And saw his hands were halfway

stretched out my neck to break

With newfound strength and anger

the crystal forth I thrust

And Belphegor gave up a roar

in terror and disgust

When everything was over

I sat there on the ground

While people rose around me

awed at the strength they’d found

I sat there still at twilight

A watching as the town

Was inch by inch recovering from

the time it had been down

And somewhere deep inside me

a thought was taking form

That though I’d failed some others lived

and this fact made me warm

I rose just as the townsfolk

approached to me intive

Cause though I’d love to stay I had

more lives to save tonight

I heard them call behind me

but strayed not from my path

I would soon face the seventh sin and

he would face my wrath.

Born in Sin: Wrath 10/31/17

All spent in soul and body

bereft my last sane thought

I struggled with my demons

and hoped it weren’t for naught

I’d left my life behind me

I’d offered up my will

I’d lowered me to doing

things I regretted still

To kill in name of virtue

to let my skin be touched

To lie, betray and sacrifice

the things I valued much

And heavens know I felt it

the weariness inside

That poisoned with indifference

to if I lived or died

And as I reached the summit of

a tall and rocky hill

I saw the burgh below me and

grew more despondent still

The city was afire

the flames defiled the clouds

And dancing ‘midst the fires I saw

fiends in endless crowds

I almost did give in then,

succumbing to the sight

I knew I was too puny

to ever win this fight

But something kept me going

and please God me remit

For it was pride and anger and

not virtue, not one bit

And then the heavens opened

and spilled its frenzied tears

As I descended slowly to

make battle with my fears

My left hand held the crystal,

my right hand held the blade

Endowed me by the heavens,

my holy quest to aid

The gates swung up before me

the dancing crowd fell back

to make a pathway forward

then re-closed in my track

Then coming forth to greet me

a lesser hellish lord:

The demon they call Amon

already drawing sword

I knew the magic crystal

had room for just one more

And hadn’t foreseen Amon to

stand guard at Satan’s door

I realized that moment

that I would have to dare

A duel with this monster to

the gem for Satan spare

And as the rainfall poured down

Inferno all around

Our blades did crash together with

an all but deafening sound

The battle raged for ages

at least that’s how it felt

Then suddenly a sharp pain as

he cut me and I knelt

The thought that all should end there

was too much to abide

“God help me”, I said quietly as

he swung swift and wide

And then I drew the crystal

and quickly met his blow

The air exploded, all sound died

and all things turned aglow

I came back to my senses

and terror gripped my soul

For though alive I had just lost

all hope to reach my goal

Though Amon was defeated

and could be seen no more

I was now further from my mark

than I had been before

I rose up, gripped by terror

of what I had just done

The crystal was now useless;

the fight could not be won

And then the fires parted

made way as if in awe

For him who now approached me

I winced at what I saw

For I stood before Satan

the ruler of all vice

The lord upon the wrathful

now stripped of all disguise

His monstrous frame enormous

His head with antlers crowned

My head said “bow” and ‘fore I knew

I knelt down on the ground

“We finally meet”, his voice boomed

I couldn’t even look

I tried to rise or speak or act

but still I only shook

“You’ve beaten all my sergeants,

and prov’n your mettle well.

And finally you’re here to let me

drag you down to Hell.”

I saw it flash before me

not just my life ‘til then

But also scenes he showed me

of torture without end

The devil then approached me

his giant blade was drawn

And I knew I would never live

to see another dawn

But as I saw the shadow of

his blade above my head

A choir rose around me with

the voices of the dead

And at the corners of my eyes

I saw them all take form

The ghosts of those I’d tried to save

their song now like a storm

I felt a surge of strength then

come rushing like a tide

I grabbed the sword of Michael and

met Satan in his stride

The blade crash was like thunder

we circled and attacked

We fought with equal fervor

like angels had my back

The rain turned into embers

the fires turned to ice

This was an ageless battle

of virtue and of vice

But I was growing weaker

still bleeding from before

And realized that I could

not muster that much more

Each blow I parried made me

more weak and tired still

I made mistakes and panicked

and backed against my will

My foe laughed as he fought me

“I knew that you were weak.

Your fate is settled, it you have a

last prayer you should speak”.

But then a voice did echo:

“Don’t fear, for you are blessed”

And I knew it was Michael,

who sent me on this quest.

“This mortal shell you carry

you’re ready now to break

For you were once an angel too,

remember now and wake”.

And memories came flooding

of lives I’d lived before

Of other incarnations

and promises of yore.

And something in me woke then

and other things did break

And Satan must have seen this for

his blade began to shake

“Who are you”, he demanded

“At least no man at all”

I felt my eyes were glowing

“I’m your demise and fall”

And with those words I struck him

with newfound skill and art

And though he tried to parry

I thrust and pierced his heart

The devil stared in shock and

I calmly met his gaze

Now finally remembering

I, too, once fell from grace

I never was a mortal,

a sentence it had been

To prove myself in human guise

in penance for my sin

And as the demon bled out

still pierced upon my blade

I saw all this and also knew

atonement had been made

A hand upon my shoulder

for I was not alone

“You’ve paid your debt, Grigori,

I’ve come to take you home.”

An angel stood before me

abask in heaven’s light

It was my brother Michael

come to put all things right

“You’ve lived just as a mortal

and paid a heavy price

But in so doing you have also

purged yourself from vice”

He took my hand and led me,

as one we walked away

And as dawn broke it was upon

a very different day

Where people ruled themselves just

as things had been before and

The seven deadly sins were but

ideas and nothing more

The Host      

The Man from Taured 7/12/17

He was a failed actor and author but as talk show host he was king so why he prisoner in the hotel didn’t these people own a T.V. He couldn’t wait till this was cleared up he would go home to his husband they would cuddle in the bed and laugh about it he thought As he turned on the T.V. and there he was interviewing the Japanese PM holy shit what was going on? The T.V. him asked the hotel him “Aren’t you coming to ask the questions” the T.V. grew a mouth and unhinged it like a snake. The T.V. opened its mouth and swallowed him whole as he screamed

“You drifted off you were asking” The PM

“Sorry yes, yes, I was”

The Mothman Prophecy 7/26/17

He had almost lost control of his bladder when the creature with red glowing eyes approached them from out the woods He reached over in futile attempt to restart the car as it came to his door and opened it. It stared at him with those deep Fathomless red eyes. He tried to get away while his wife just sat there screaming. He froze as those eyes drew him inward Hypnotizing him and he saw a massive army advancing on Chicago they were dressed like the Iranian army but they were actually American soldiers in disguise under orders from a man too far gone the President himself to start a war He saw the bombing of churches, schools, skyscrapers. He watched the Sears Tower collapse. He saw any dead middle easterner being but in an Iranian soldiers garb. He watched the survivors being round up and executed by the Americans to keep it a secret. That was weeks ago and now he was in the ruins of Chicago being guided by the Mothman who flies over him at night He has a small group of survivors and after they snuck into a military camp while they slept he now has the plans of this Operation and with Mothman’s guidance the next stop Canada to dump this info on every major news outlet the world must know

One Last Phone Call 11/30/17

I come in carrying groceries when my cellphone on the table begins to vibrate and dance over the surface as it goes off

“Shit” I say as I drop the groceries and pick up my phone the caller id says unknown so I don’t usually pick up I flip open the lid (yes I have a flip phone) my ear is bombarded by static and a distant child’s giggle comes on the line

“Daddy!”

“Oh my God Rachel?!”

I almost drop the phone as my hand goes numb

“It’s me daddy.”

“Baby how just how when your mother had you were still born?”

Static explodes in my ear followed by a loud whining pitch. I pull the phone away and cry out. When I put the phone back I am greeted by another girlish giggle

“I looooove yoooouuu and mommy!”

“I…I love you to baby girl!” I try not to cry and this is met by more giggles.

“I have to go now daddy”

“Go! No! No! Don’t you go again!”

“The man in white says I have to”

“You put that man on the phone you tell that man I said NO!”

“Bye daddy.”

The line goes dead in my hands. The dam breaks as the weight of emotions sinks me to my knees. I cry out in long gasping sobs begging the phone to ring the phone does not ring again. Though tear filled eyes I can see the battery is dead and no matter how much I charge the phone after this it never turns back on

 

The Wendigo 3/01/18

He was so fucking hungry it hurt. His stomach screamed as they all huddle together near the small fire for warmth. He only ate a little of Paul’s flesh but what was he suppose to do starve. No one saw him. No one looked. Fuck why did he do this to himself. Shit and when that gust of wind slammed into him his whole body felt like it had been slammed into a brick wall. He felt his stomach caving in as they huddled together for warmth his good smelling friends He salivated at their glorious smell as his stomach growled loudly. Christ help me as he felt his teeth grow longer in his mouth. He could feel himself being stretched it was a horrifying yet wonderful feeling. He felt every bone in his body get longer. One of his friend claimed how hungry they were. He knew. He knew and in a moment he wouldn’t be hungry much longer. Would he?

 

 

 

Werewolves 4/12/18

What do I know about werewolves plenty. They killed my family. They are a bunch of mindless savage beasts. I am closing in on the one who is responsible for it. I been stalking this bastard for what feels like forever The Manor house where I have recently taken up residence isn’t too far from the clearing I find myself by in the nights chill. My breath comes out in white bellows of smoke. That jack ass in the three piece suit calls himself the Host tried to stop me from going out. Who the fuck does that guy think he is with his goddamn academy award smile. He tells me what I hunt is a loup-garou a person cursed by witches. Smug son of a bitch I like to knock his teeth in. My grip tightens on my gun. The silver bullet itching to be released in the beasts hide. I read that a silver tipped bullet would spare the man only killing the beast but he gets no such luxury. He get no such quarter. The ground mist plays with my imagination as I watch the deer graze in the clearing. I see my wife and kids rise up in their mangled and bloody form. How I found them. They stand and judge me for my failing. I will avenge them. So close to its food source the excitement of the kill pumps my heart and I draw in my breath to steady myself. The Host’s final words to me as I stormed out the door. Don’t put your ear next to a rabbit whole least you be vexed   What the fuck does that mean I yelled. And he calmly tells me that if I go looking for it I may not like what I find. He doesn’t understand my family is dead and I wasn’t there to protect them. I failed them. I will kill the beast who ripped them apart I sight my gun on the deer and wait. A beautiful shaft of perfect moon light cuts through the trees near me. It’s almost hypnotic I can’t take my eyes from it. I tear myself away. Too many moonlit nights I tell myself. After I kill the beast I will go and kill that fagget Host. I don’t realize it but I have walked over to the shaft of moonlight. My hand so eager to touch it to know this is what brings the monster to me like an old friend or lover Part of me wants to be in it so badly I don’t understand why. My hand reaches out to touch the moonlight. My heart stops as I watch what happens next. In the shaft my nails blacken and begin to grow long as do my fingers. I can feel the bones shift in my hand Dark thick patches of hair begin to sprout out as I panic and pray God no please dear God no! As the dawning realization sinks in that was the monster I been hunting the whole time. I place the gun in my mouth and pull

The Afterlife 4/26/18

The horror he felt was palpable as he stared out at the vast myclopian cityscape. Where were the Angel’s and saints he had promised since boyhood? Was this even heaven. Huge monster gazed down at the pale humans and their labors

Lesser monsters taking instructions from the larger whipped and beat the humans into submission

Oh how they howl and laughed. The Afterlife sounded more like the asylum of the damned. He jumped and screamed as a bony hand rested on his shoulder He turned to face a decrepit old man. The pasty white skin and sunken eyes gave him an ethereal quality. The smile on his face spoke volumes of insanity.

“Can’t figure out what’s going on, huh? Huh? Huh?”

A head shake was all he could manage

“They are the great old ones as spoken of by Lovecraft. No heaven. No hell. Just build their temples and get eaten as sacrifice to their splendor. And wake up to do it all again until he awakens.”

“Who awakens?”

He threw back his head and let loose a volley of high pitched laughter.

“Who?

Who?” He wiped fresh tears from his eyes.

“Why the greatest one and king of them all Cthulhu.”

The ground shook upon the mention of his name.

“Let me go this isn’t supposed to be the afterlife. I don’t belong here I don’t believe in any of this.”

“No son there is only this.”

Then the old man morphed into one of the lesser beast as his hand became a pincer it crushed down on my shoulder. The jailer led him down the hill to the myclopian city and to his eternity

Lily’s in the Moonlight

ONE
To begin Frederick Lynn had gone mad, quite mad and he was quite sure of it. And this madness consumed him wholly.
“He was doing the world a favor.” He would say at his subsequent trial and hearing.
He would be deemed noncompos mentis and spend the rest of his days in a mental health facility somewhere in upstate New York.
“Why the man in the moon approved of my ideas.” Would be another statement he made to the judge.
There would be twenty-six victims in all. Twenty-five women and one poor confused transgender, not to say the transgender was confused but Freddy was confused. After he killed him/her, he finished the job by castrating him/her.

TWO

He crept up the stairs to her room.  He knew which one it was the one at the end of the hall.  He carried the vase carefully so not to spill the water.  White lilies are her favorite.
He entered the room and placed the vase on her vanity.  The three mirror setup surrounded by lights, something that belonged in a theater dressing room, rather than a college student’s dorm room. She was a little vane his beloved Yvonne; that treacherous, murderous bitch.
He didn’t need to leave a card she, the whore of Babylon, would know who it was left.  He slipped into her closet so he could view her through the wood slats of the door.
The closet was blessedly dark; he found time to gather his racing thoughts.  The last couple of days were blank spots in his mind.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept.  Yvonne had a late class perhaps it was a good time to close his eyes and rest. He lay down on the closet floor facing the door.
As he lay there, he could hear her last words to him playing on repeat in his head those horrible words that destroyed his heart, soul, and mind.
“I already had the abortion, Freddy! Do you hear me? I couldn’t imagine saddled with your child or you for the rest of my life.”
Yvonne told him before slapping him and walking out of his life, until now.  He sat upright in the closet now.  No more closing his eyes, but that didn’t stop the images as they played out in the darkness like a movie.
He would sit in his room up all night unable to sleep.  He would find himself crying; he did his best to muffle his sobs so his mother, the fat insensitive bitch, couldn’t hear his heart or mind breaking.  The room filled with the baby item that he was going to put together to welcome the next generation of Lynn men or women into the world.
When the newly found insomnia got terrible he would watch the naughty videos he and Yvonne had made and got off to those after he would only cry harder feeling disgusted with himself.
Then his late nights turned into plans for revenge on her.  The drawings were crude at best done with crayons he bought for ninety-nine cents.  The idea was to find her, beat her and that dumb jock he caught her with, within inches of their lives. He was going to make sure that jock could never play another sport again and that she would not bear children for anyone.
He would show these crude insane drawings to the moonbeams that fell through his windows on those late nights.  Then one night it happened, he spoke to Freddy, the man in the moon, his patron.
His voice came off the beams of light as soft and smooth as gossamer silk.  Freddy thought it was his imagination at first as he held up his latest crude plan to beat the two of them up.
“You can do more Freddy.” The man in the moon said.
“I…I…I can?” Freddy asked the beams.
“Oh, yes, Freddy you can silence her forever.” The man in the moon said.
He was confused he got down on his hands and knees and crawled to the moonbeams.  He tried touching them, but they moved away from his hands.  He knelt there looking out the window.  The heavy bags under his eyes and the slacked mouth gave Freddy the appearance of a child who has stayed up past his bedtime.
“Kill her Freddy.” The man in the moon now commanded.
Freddy felt a sense of exhalation run through him at these last words.  He was so excited he found that he had a boner in his boxer shorts.
“Yeah ok,” Freddy told the receding moonbeams.
“I will be with you tomorrow we can work out your grand plan, you have my approval.” The man in the moon said.
Freddy began to laugh, he didn’t know why it wasn’t funny, but it was funny at the same time.  The tears followed soon after and he found himself playing with his hard-on as he laughed and cried.  He masturbated so hard he began to bleed, which caused more laughter and caused him to keep masturbating.
The next night the man in the moon came to him. The moonbeams in his room began to swirl around and there he was like boom now you see me.  He was tall and well dressed as if he was some English lord from the 1800s with a top hat and all his clothing, skin and hair were a silvery white. Freddy’s mouth dropped open as his breath caught in his throat.  He wore a pair of golden sunglasses with black lenses.  He pulled them down to reveal his bottomless yellow eyes.
He flashed a winning smile at Freddy who barely noticed.  All Freddy could do was look into those yellow eyes.  He felt hypnotized by them pulled into them.  He wasn’t gay or anything, but the hard-on came back just looking into his eyes.
“Hello, Freddy I am Mister Moon.” Mr. Moon said.
Freddy simply whimpered.  Mr. Moon laughed and clasped Freddy on the shoulder.  The feeling of exaltation ran through Freddy as if he had been chosen by a god to do his work.  He guided Freddy to his desk and sat him down.  Mr. Moon picked up the crayon placed it in his hand and closed Freddy’s fingers around it.
“Shall we begin the plans for your great works Freddy my boy?” Mr. Moon asked.
Freddy nodded his head and let out a whimper.
“That’s the spirit.  I knew you were a go-getter, Freddy.” Mr. Moon said sounding enthusiastic.
Freddy began to draw under Mr. Moon’s instructions.  Freddy’s whole body trembled as he drew up Mr. Moon’s plans to kill, treacherous, murderous Yvonne. Then finally Freddy yelled.
“I DO WHAT YOU SAY!”
Mr. Moon laughed.  He slowly shook his head and began to rub Freddy’s shoulders.
“No, no my dear boy this is your plan think of me as your patron as a supporter of the arts I support your art right here and now.  I am your facilitator, Freddy and I will never steer you wrong.” Mr. Moon said.
Freddy nodded his head in complete agreement with whatever Mr. Moon had to say as he finished up his plans. When he finished, Mr. Moon gave it his approval.  The next morning
Freddy Lynn was no longer connected to reality as he went down to the breakfast table plans in hand to show his mother.
“Dear God, Freddy, you have to stop thinking about that girl she is gutter trash,” Freddy’s mom said as she poured through his plans, “I am calling the doctors Freddy you need help.”
She got up and started to the phone.  Freddy just sat there smiling at her then Mr. Moon spoke up inside his head, screamed actually.
“Kill her Freddy! Kill the fat bitch before she ruins everything!”
His mother was now rotting away in the basement wrapped in a white bed sheet.  Freddy wiped the images from his sight.  He wasn’t sure what day it was anymore.  Freddy was in a panic.  He didn’t remember why he was in the closet.  He tried to get up to run out of the closet and the house. A silvery-white hand grabbed his shoulder, restraining him. Freddy looked up into the bottomless yellow eyes of Mr. Moon.
“What day is it? Where are we? What is going on? What are we doing?” Freddy asked in rapid panicked succession.
“Shhh, calm yourself Freddy my boy it’s only the day after we…I mean you made your plans.  An artistic stroke of genius.” Mr. Moon said.
Freddy felt automatically at ease just listening to him and gazing into his yellow eyes.  Freddy licked his lips a couple of time as he began to exhale and relax.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah the day after of course.  Thank you, Mr. Moon.” Freddy said.
“Not a problem.  Not a problem at all.” Mr. Moon soothed.
Then one of the bed sheets in the closet fell to the floor.  It took the shape of the mother lying on the floor like in the basement then it sat up.  A red stain appeared covering the top of the sheet where her head was where Freddy had bashed her skull in.  Freddy gasped and tried to get away, but Mr. Moon’s hand held him fast.
“Freddy.” The sheet mom called out.
“No! You’re. You’re dead!” Freddy cried out pointing an accusatory finger.
“Oh, Freddy why?” Sheet mom asked on the verge of tears.
Freddy looked to Mr. Moon for guidance.  Mr. Moon’s face was impassive, void of any emotion but his eyes burned with what could best describe as rage towards sheet mom.  Mr. Moon looked down at Freddy and shook his head.
“She’s not real Freddy unlike me.  She’s dead like you said so in the basement remember.  You don’t have to listen to her.” Mr. Moon growled this at Freddy.
Freddy for the first time felt fear and confusion course through his mind and body.  He just kept staring at the two of them he wasn’t sure now if this was real or all in his head.  Was he crazy?
“Freddy, Yvonne is dead.  You killed her months ago.  The girl out there is not Yvonne.” Sheet Mom pleaded.
“What?” Freddy asked.
“No!” Mr. Moon hissed, “No Freddy, No! That is Yvonne out there I swear it is!  This will be your masterpiece to all those women who do men wrong.”
“Freddy!  Don’t listen to him, please baby, please I am your mother.” Sheet Mom sobbed.
“I…I… can’t remember!” Freddy cried breaking into a nervous sweat.
“No Freddy you remember Yvonne out there the plan, Freddy, the plan.” Mr. Moon growled.
“Yeah the plan, Yvonne out there,” Freddy repeated robotically.
“Freddy, Yvonne is dead!” Sheet Mom begged.
“She’s lying to you, Freddy!” Mr. Moon roared.
The door to the room opened, and everyone in the closet shut up. Treacherous, murderous villainous Yvonne walked into the room.  She is a slender thing as she drops her gym bag onto her bed Freddy couldn’t remember her looking so good or so thin.  She stops to admire the flowers from a distance and skip walks over to smell the lilies.  The moonlight comes in through the window.  She squeals with excitement. She rushes back over to her gym bag and pulls out her phone.  She dials and begins to talk.
“Oh my God Brittany.  Guess what! Come on guess! Brad sent me flowers!” Yvonne says giggling.
In the closet, Freddy bears and grits his teeth.  He watches Yvonne, the slut, the whore, dance around in her t-shirt and gym shorts.  Talking rapidly on the phone to Brittany about Brad.
“Brad didn’t send you flowers you stupid bitch I did.” He growls under his breath.
“Freddy, Yvonne wasn’t Asian please listen to me.” Sheet Mom says.
“Lies! Freddy more Lies! You remember the put-downs, the insults, your whole life full of belittlement because of her.  The insensitivity or the cold indifference to your needs, Freddy.  She made your father leave!” Mr. Moon began.
Freddy covered his ears and began to whimper and pant.  The veins in his neck and on his forehead start to bulge as he fights with himself and the anger he feels towards Yvonne in her room.  He silently screams.
“Now you’re free Freddy, and I freed you.  She is dead, and you don’t have to listen to her anymore. Unlike your father, I will never leave you.” Mr. Moon concludes.
“You’re dead you stupid useless fat bitch now go back to the basement where you belong where I put you!” Freddy yells this aloud, and Yvonne in the room can hear him.
“But Freddy, please!” Sheet Mom whines and sinks into the floor.
“Go!” Freddy yells.
Freddy watches his mother sink into the floor, and at that moment it is always Tuesday after the plans made and Mr. Moon is still right.
“Oh my God Brittany I think there is someone in my closet,” Yvonne says in a whisper.
Freddy barrels through the closet door taking off one of the hinges.  He is screaming not precisely a word more like a vowel sound at the tops of his lungs.
“UUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!”
The Asian Yvonne screams at the top of her lungs as Freddy tackles her to the bed.  Her phone with Brittany on it goes flying across the room and clatters on the floor.  Brittany will be the one to call 911 that would lead to his arrest.
She hit the bed it takes the wind out of her.  Freddy wraps his hands around her throat and begins to squeeze.  He feels the larynx start to crush.  As her face reddens she beings to claw at his arms but he is wearing a thick flannel shirt, and her nails cannot tear into his skin.
This was Yvonne he knew it. No, Yvonne was that fat black girl.  No, Yvonne was that guy in a woman’s dress in the bathroom.  This Yvonne’s eyes rolled up to the whites as she began to make gargling sounds as her desperate clawing began to weaken.  Yvonne was that punk rocker chick. The Mexican, the Mexican that was Yvonne. No this is Yvonne!  This is Yvonne! This is Yvonne!
It didn’t matter they were all Yvonne in the end, weren’t they?

Wilmont Avenue (re-edit)

Grandpa

He flew down the hospital corridor to his Grandpa’s room dodging around people and equipment. His Grandpa was dying, and he planned to be there when it happened. He came barging into the room grandpa was surrounded by everyone. Grandpa looked like a skeleton.
Grandpa’s breath sounds labored as he tries to hold on but that only seems natural doesn’t everyone try to hold on to life so close to the end. Grandpa sees him Steve, the youngest, and with a skeletal hand beckons him over to him. Steve pushes past everyone to stand next to his dying grandpa. Tears stand brimming in the corner of his eyes. He loved Grandpa more than anyone and deep down he was sure he was Grandpa’s favorite.
Grandpa sits up on his elbows in his bed it is with the greatest of efforts you can tell by the look on his aged face. He grabbed Steve’s wrist in a death grip. Everyone is surprised by the sudden burst of strength in Grandpa none more so than Steve, whose wrist is beginning to hurt and go numb.
“The car,” Grandpa starts as his heart monitor begins to go crazy, “The car is your…you…are the keep…keep..er now. Stay off of Wilmont Avenue! Stay off of Wilmont Avenue! Stay….”
Grandpa’s eyes roll to the whites. His body shakes and rattles. The heart monitor flat lines as his grip lets Steve go. He falls limp on the bed never to speak or open his eyes again. Grandpa is dead, and Steve in his twenties begins to blubber like a baby. No one scolds him they all knew he and Grandpa were close.
The funeral for Steve was mercifully quick. Grandpa’s lawyer gives him the keys to his old Cadillac. He went to his Grandparent’s house to help his Grandma move out. His brother Alvin has offered his basement apartment. He marvels over the Cadillac his prize. The car had been the subject of many disputes between them over the years as to its fate when Grandpa was gone. Here was the answer it was his no big surprise there. His Grandpa’s final warning to him echoed in his head to stay off of Wilmont Avenue.
Wilmont Avenue, he remembered it well. Stories his Grandpa would tell everyone on any occasion. He would sit idly at his grandpa’s knee enthralled listening to stories about Wilmont Avenue a bizarre place full of oddities. Of course, when Grandpa was done, he would beg him for more. Grandpa would always laugh at this tussling his hair. Even in his teen years he still loved listening to the stories of Wilmont Avenue.
Grandpa had discovered Wilmont Avenue accidentally while on shore leave before he was shipped out to the Pacific to fight the Japanese. It was Grand Pa, Abe Frobisher, Thomas Biddle, Sammy Freeman, and Ron Hart. His old 1940 Cadillac LaSalle, which was now Steve’s and how that past machine still ran was a mystery unto itself. As Grandpa told it the car went apeshit, then he would pardon himself for swearing.
“Pardon my French,” as he would say before hacking something up and spitting it out.
The car took over; it drove them across weird winding roads, unknown little towns, and unfamiliar landscapes until it stopped on Wilmont Avenue. They had all tried to open the doors and bail out of the moving car. The doors, of course, would not budge no matter how hard they pushed. Causing a commotion amongst them with a lot of swears thrown around and some fear. When the car had reached its final destination, it shut off.
The car’s engine wouldn’t turn over as Grandpa repeatedly turned the key in the ignition. Each one of them tried, climbing back and forth over one another to do so. When the doors flew open, and as if pushed out of the car by unseen hands all of them ended up laying on the asphalt. The doors slammed shut and would not open.
Wilmont Avenue was composed of twelve gothic style houses enclosed by wrought iron fencing. Six houses on either side of the street. They had an odd abandoned kind of haunted feeling to them. Grandpa often said that he was waiting for Boris Karloff or Bela Lugosi to emerge from one of them. At the same time, all four car doors swung open. They all put their guard up for whatever may be coming out of them.
The denizens of the street gradually strolled down the walkway to the road taking them in with hungry wolf-like eyes. They bunched up near the car balling their fists but leaving their arms down bracing themselves for a fight.
A well-groomed man was the first to approach them. His greased hair parted down the middle and his oiled mustache. He wore a suit and tails with spat shoes. In his arms, there was a ventriloquist dummy that was his mirror image. He looked at Grandpa and the others in their uniforms. A theatrical all teeth smile stretched across his face. It creeped Grandpa out. Later he would find out that it creeped out the others as well.
“Are you fine boys going to go off and fight the Nazi?” He asked in an oddly high sing-song voice.
“Yeah, that is kinda the basic idea,” Grandpa said.
“Holy, fuck! Saul, he has a fucking dummy.” Abe whispered in Grandpa’s ear.
“No shit,” Grandpa whispered back.
The residents, except one, all now stood on the sidewalks in front of their homes observing them as if they were animals in a zoo or a new exciting art exhibit. The ventriloquist smiled his sizeable theatrical smile.
“Allow me to introduce myself I am Constantine Cosgrove, ventriloquist extraordinaire, and this is Cosgrove Junior,” Constantine said indicating the dummy he held.
Junior raised its head and made its eyebrows go up and down at the mention of its name. He spun on his heel and made a grand announcement.
“These here fine gentlemen are going off to fight the Nazis!”
The street erupted in applause and somewhere in the distant church bell began to toll. The sound of the bells made Grandpa’s stomach lurch, as a shiver ran down his spine. He felt that shiver through his soul. Constantine smiled at all of them when the bells tolled. The other residents came down to meet them.
“Stick around boys you ain’t seen nothing yet,” Junior said.
Thomas laughed and in his southern drawl, “Hells bells that were good I didn’t even see your lips move.”
“Young man! That is the point!” Constantine said.
Grandpa and the others met them all, while other people from the surrounding streets came over. According to Grandpa they erected a stage and put on shows for them.
There was, of course, Cosgrove, the extraordinaire; he performed in some of the most elegant opera houses in London, Paris, Rome, New York, and Chicago. He had a wide array of dummies not just Junior. One resembled Hitler and mocked him. There were Count and Countess Vonderstamp performance of magical feats. Along with a small freak show. A belly dancing Gypsy was performing on stage with musicians playing in the background. A potluck spread was laid out for them. Steve, along with everyone else knew that Grandpa glossed over the good parts of the story.
When they got older, Grandpa told them more about the Gypsy. She did a tarot card reading for him and gave him the top card which was Death. Grandpa claimed the card saved his life the day he took a bullet while overseas.
“She was beautiful, like a movie starlet, I danced with her all night, and she dances privately with me if you catch my drift.” Grandpa would say with a wink.
He told them of their fascination with Sammy Freeman, “Sammy was a colored kid, which was the nomenclature I used, there are of course others but if I ever hear you utter them so help me God I will take off my belt and skin your asses raw with it.”
At dawn they left Wilmont Avenue, to be shipped out overseas. Thomas Biddle and Sammy Freeman died while performing covert spy mission in Germany. Something to do with the occult. Ron Hart’s plane was shot down during the Battle of Midway. Abe Frobisher and Grandpa were both injured at the Battle of Okinawa and were recipients of the Purple Heart.
Grandpa met Grandma in the hospital she was the nurse who assisted the Doctor taking care of his wounded shoulder. He and Abe both came home and went into the business of sales made door to door by two well-dressed gentlemen such as themselves. Eventually, that would grow into a company with employees “Two Well Dress Gentlemen Sundries and Sales.”
Grandpa married Grandma, start a family; fifty years of marriage, five children, eighteen grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren by the time Grandpa had punched out. Abe Frobisher was another story.
“Before the men in white coats and butterfly nets took him off forever he claimed there was a man in the mirror stalking him.” Grandpa would say soberly.
They found Abe sitting naked in the corner of his living room, covered in blood, every reflective surface in his home destroyed and he was screaming. Grandpa would visit him often at Saint Mary’s rest home where he still resides.
As Steve got older, he craved to hear more about Wilmont Avenue and try to pry specific details from his Grandpa. What were the dark landscapes and why did he gloss over them. One night he answered.
“Stevie,” Grandpa started his eyes glassing over, “it was horrible, and you don’t want that in your head. Trust me, Stevie. If I could get rid of them, along with the nightmares of the war, I would, but I have to live with both inside my head.”
Steve would find some more out while Grandpa lay on his deathbed, slipping in and out of memories. They were phantoms of the past. Steve is now in his Grandparent’s room, emptying a dresser drawer when he finds it, pushed up in the back. He pulls it out; it is a tarot card. A picture of Death, with two bullet holes in it, he absently places it in his pocket next to the Cadillac keys. His mind wandered, and it was his brother’s voice behind him that snapped him back to reality.
“Hey, kid how are you holding up?” Alvin asked.
Steve turned and said, “I am alright. How is Grandma doing?”
“You know her everything is under control,” Alvin answered.
“Is she alright with this move?” Steve asked.
“Yeah, she told me the old place is too much for her to take care of these days and doesn’t want to spend hours cleaning it. You ask me I think she doesn’t want to be alone without Grandpa and with all the memories. You and I both know she is too damn proud to admit that.” Alvin said.
Steve laughs and says, “True, and Rachel was alright with you using your rental space for her?”
Alvin laughs this time and says, “It was her idea.”
Steve grabs a box and Alvin another; they head downstairs to the Goodwill truck where most of Grandpa’s clothes are going. Steve is having Grandpa’s chair sent to his house with Grandma’s approval. They found Grandma outside instructing everyone from child, grandchild and movers alike as to where everything goes and what everyone can have. Her attention falls onto Steve and Alvin coming out of the house.
“She saw us don’t make eye contact,” Alvin says out the side of his mouth.
“Too late.” Steve shots back.
She marches up to both of them, with a warm I need something from one of you smile on her face. Both Alvin and Steve put down their boxes and wait for their instructions from Grandma. Both curl their lips in an attempt not to burst out laughing. She crosses her arms in front of her chest to look tough, which she is, but she can’t help but smile at her oldest and youngest grandchildren. She breaks first, and they soon follow.
“I will do it, Grandma, whatever it is.” Steve offers raising his hand.
Alvin playfully slaps Steve’s chest with the back of his hand. Both of them laughed harder.
“Now. Boys hand play is bad play,” Grandma sings playfully, “Steve, honey, I need you to go to Saint Mary’s and tell Abe that your grandfather has passed. Grandpa and I visited him as often as we could, him more so, he deserves to know.”
“I am on my way,” Steve says heading toward the Cadillac.
“No, Steve!” Grandma yells.
Steve stops in his track and turns back to his Grandma. She lowers her arms back down to her side with a sheepish look on her face. Alvin is looking at her confused by her reaction.
“Take your car, honey, your other car. Those stories and with Abe being either off or on depending on the day I don’t want him doing anything to hurt you or himself.” Grandma said.
Steve nods and gets behind the wheel of his Toyota. He pulls off waving to everyone as he heads to Saint Mary’s.

Abe

Steve sat at a table in the standard room of Saint Mary’s rest home. It was noisy in there. The television was blaring a cartoon show with four or five surrounding it howling laughter at the slapstick things going on. People are playing checkers and other board games. One or two stood, talking to the walls while another man danced around the common room by himself.
Two large orderlies escorted Abe Frobisher to the table. Abe sat down across from Steve. The orderlies left to deal with a disturbance at one of the game tables. There was fighting and yelling along with some crying. The orderlies dragged the two fighting men out. Abe smiled at him it was a hauntingly broad and yet somehow vacant smile. It was Abe’s eyes they didn’t smile with his mouth.
“Hello Mister Frobisher, My name is Steven, and I am Saul’s grandson,” Steve said.
“Yes, yes you are,” Abe said.
“Right, well sir I am here to tell you that my grandpa has passed away,” Steve said.
“Yes, yes he died in Okinawa shot through the shoulder and chest. Yes, yes, yes.” Abe said.
“Um, no sir he died just couple days ago not in Okinawa,” Steve said.
“The tarot card the Gypsy gave him brought him back. I saw it I laid there gut shot and the Tarot brought me back too,” Abe said then looked off into the distance, “Your Grandpa died.”
“Yes, he did I was told you two were close my Grandma, Evelyn, sent me here,” Steve said.
“Yes your grandmother, the Gypsy. What was that?” Abe asked still looking off into the distance.
“Um no my grandmother’s name is Evelyn. What was what, sir?” Steve asked looking off to where Abe was looking.
“Oh yes, we’re getting to that,” Abe said and then turned his attention back to Steve.
“You were his favorite. He told me so. Did he leave you anything?” Abe asked.
“Yeah, he left me the Cadillac,” Steve said.
Abe’s eye widens as he gasps in horror at Steve’s information. He begins to shake his head frantically. He starts to slap himself as Steve frantically look around for the orderlies at the same time trying to sink into his chair. With sudden speed, Abe flies across the table launching himself at Steve. He tackles Steve to the floor and takes hold of his shirt in a two-fisted death grip.
“No! No! Stay off of Wilmont Avenue! Stay off of Wilmont Avenue! It wasn’t my blood! It wasn’t my blood!” He begins to yell.
His yelling sets off everyone in the room. They begin to scream, cry, laugh and even repeat the message Abe is now yelling at Steve. Abe starts to shake Steve violently repeating his words over and over again while the mad choir joins in. The orderlies burst into the room with nurses.
Two grab Abe by his forearms, but Abe won’t let go of Steve without a fight. Steve helps the Orderlies by pushing Abe off of him. The nurses and others work on calming down the room as a stunned Steve watches the orderlies drag/carry a screaming, crying Abe down the hall to his quarter. Abe is still repeating his message until he is out of sight and out of earshot.
Steve is checked out by a doctor and leaves Saint Mary’s in a shocked stooper. He gets home to find his Grandpa’s chair inside waiting for him. He sits in it for the rest of the night his Grandpa’s and now Abe’s warning echoing in his head. His Grandma calls him to check up and to tell him that Abe Frobisher has committed suicide. His dreams that night are of his Grandpa on his deathbed.

Death Bed
“I fucked her! I fucked good and hard!” Grandpa yelled from his deathbed still lost in the haze between waking and sleeping.
Steve, who was sleeping in a chair was startled at his Grandpa’s sudden outburst. His Grandpa sat up in the bed his eyes open looking around the room. His eyes were unfocused not fixed on anything as if he was watching a show.
“Abe, don’t you go into that house! Don’t you do it! God damn it I knew you we lavender! I knew you were lavender!” Grandpa yells.
Steve gets up and rushes over to his Grandpa’s side. He places a hand on his shoulder. Grandpa grabs and squeezes. His whole body is trembling, and his eyes have yet to focus on reality. He is lost somewhere reliving memories as if they were happening for the first time.
“Holy shit! I can’t believe they did that!” Grandpa says laughing.
His head turns to Steve now and stares through him with his haunted eyes. Grandpa is smiling and chuckling. He blinks once, twice, and comes back to the world. Steve helps him lay back down and remains at his bedside.
“There was a puppet show Stevie,” Grandpa says.
“I know Grandpa.” Steve answers.
“Cosgrove dressed Junior in a rabbi outfit during the show, and with a little wooden pecker fucked the Hitler puppet right in the ass while reciting the Kaddish,” Grandpa says before he slips back into sleep.
Steve does not go back to sleep he sits awake watching his Grandpa. There would be more outbursts like this the week leading up to his death. Steve will be there for all of them. In the morning his sister Joselyn comes to sit with Grandpa so he can go to his classes. At night he comes back to sit.
“What is wrong with the trees!? Why are these people just standing there?! Help! Help! For God sakes, Tom don’t get near it! Holy Fuck run!” Grandpa yells from the bed.
Steve is recording this with his camera. Grandpa sits in the bed as the previous night with his eyes open yet vacant as he yells at these memories.
“The trees. What the hell kind of animal is that? Fuck! Why would God allow that to happen? Thanks, Sammy I am sure the Lord’s Prayer is needed at this moment.” Grandpa says.
Grandpa sits there staring into space shivering.
“She had a child by me the Gypsy. Sometimes on the business trips, the car takes me back to Wilmont to see my other family. I still fucked her every time I saw her, but I wasn’t permitted to stay. Sure I love Evelyn but not the way I loved that damn Gypsy. Why can’t I stay? Why can’t I stay?” Grandpa says and collapses back onto the bed and is sleeping soundly.
The next night.
“Stevie what the hell do you think you’re doing! Get out of the car! Get out of it right God damn now!” Grandpa yells.
These words they are the words he used when he was ten and was caught playing in Grandpa’s Cadillac. It was the only time in his life his Grandpa ever yelled at him. He had spanked Steve with his hand, not the belt and Steve ran in crying.
“The lobster boy oh sweet God he is hurting that pinhead! It’s not funny! Make him stop! Make him stop! Come on boys! Hey, let us go! Let us go you fucking bastards!” Grandpa yelled.
He fell onto the bed again. Steve turned off the camera and watched him sleep. He waits for the next and final night before Grandpa’s death.
“I am so sorry for yelling at you Stevie, but you need to be careful in my car. I love you, Stevie.” Grandpa says in his fugue state.
“I love you too Grandpa,” Steve says back even though he knows he can’t hear him.
“Watch out for the teeth Steve those sharp fucking teeth,” Grandpa says before passing out.

The Cadillac: The Dark Passage
In the early dawn hours, Steve arose from his bed, dressed and walked a couple of blocks from his apartment to his grandparent’s former house. The Cadillac keys in his pocket are bouncing against his leg with every step he took.
He made it to the Cadillac his prize his hand reached out and stroked its black door. It was warm to the touch almost like touching human skin. He hesitated before removing the keys and unlocking the car door. He slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door. He put the key in the ignition and turned it over.
The engine hummed to life. He was surprised how quiet the vehicle was. A sizable dopey smile broke out on his face as he put his hands on the steering wheel. He pretends to drive in the driveway making engine noises like he did when he was little. He started to laugh and thanked God no one saw him doing this, or they would send him to Saint Mary’s like Mr. Frobisher. His hand moved to the clutch when the radio clicked on.
“Who knows the Shadow knows,” The ominous voice came out and began to laugh.
“Oh wow,” Steve said with a laugh, “Grandpa must have found an old-timey radio station.”
“This is not an old-timey radio station Steve,” The Shadow growled.
Steve’s heart leaped to his throat as the Shadow began laughing again. The clutch popped, the doors locked and the car pulled down the driveway. The laughing continued as the radio started to switch channels. Steve attempted to unlock the door, but the locks wouldn’t budge. He tried to roll down the window, but it wouldn’t go down either. The clutch wouldn’t go back in nor would the key turn back to kill the engine. Steve was a helpless prisoner inside the Cadillac.
The radio station found a channel and the Andrew Sister, “The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy from company B” Began to play with the Shadow laughing in the background as the car sped down the street with Steve screaming inside.
The car sped onto the main road and took a sharp turn down a side street throwing Steve to the side as it did so. Steve sat up and buckled himself in thanking his Grandpa for putting the seatbelt in the car years earlier. They came up to a forest preserve that had no road going through it but sure enough to Steve’s amazement a street was there. It was a long strip of blacktop with tall trees on either side of it. The radio gave one final laugh as it clicked off and the Cadillac sped down the newly found road.
Somewhere in the middle of this tree tunnel road, the Cadillac slowed its speed. Steve still tried to escape as his heart raced he pulled and pulled at the door handle. The door handle snapped back into place and then sucked into the car door. Steve let out a small whimper and as the car took a left turn down a looping side road. The radio clicked back on.
“You might as well sit back and relax Steve; you enjoy the ride.” The Shadow said.
Steve opened his mouth to answer, but the radio clicked off. Steve slammed his foot on the brake to no avail and like the door handles the car absorbed the brake pedal into itself. Steve’s hand went to the key and before he could grab the key was pulled into itself.
“Holy shit,” Steve whispered to himself.
The car took over leaving him a helpless passenger as it drove making passage across dark foreboding landscapes and unknown streets. All Steve could do now was look out the window and make notes of these dark landscapes he would soon find himself going down. The car turned right and passed through a small ghost town.
The dilapidated houses and stores were boarded up. The trees that line the main road were dead. This place gave Steve an unsettled feeling as the car crept to a crawl. He swears that the top floor window of the building is tracking the movement of the vehicle like hungry predatory eyes. He half expects the board over the doorway to break open to reveal a horrible mouth with jagged wooden teeth. He tries to dismiss all this as nonsense at the same time he is thankfully for the car being locked. The Cadillac stays straight driving out of the ghost town.
He now drives through broad open fields with no signs of human life. The car climbs a hill at the top there is a lone gnarled dead tree. Skeletal remains of a human hang from a noose off one of the branches. The remains sway in the wind as if dancing. The Cadillac drives down the hill and turns left.
They enter what appears now to be farmland most of the fields here are fenced off. On the fence are strange looking birds that Steve has never seen before. They were black and roughly the size of hawks. They had a dark red chest like robin redbreast, long almost peacock-like tails and a quail-like crown at the top of their heads. They cawed out at the car as it passed. Some of these bizarre birds circled the crops in the field.
Steve saw scarecrows in the farm fields standing watch over the crops. He was relieved to see a sign of normality. These quiet centurions watching over the grounds were in every farm he ever visited in his youth. The odd birds landed in the field and began to eat the crops. The scarecrow silently got off of its post and approached the birds.
The car stopped so Steve could watch this spectacle. The bird sensed the approach of the scarecrow and took flight. The scarecrow caught a bird in midflight and ripped it in half; feathers flew every which way. Steve raised his hands to his mouth as he watched the scarecrow leap and catch another out of the air. The scarecrow ripped it in half like the first. The car pulled off from the field. It came to a four-way split in the road and turned right.
In the rearview mirror, Steve saw similar displays of the scarecrows in other fields as the car made its turn. He held his hand to his mouth for at least a substantial minute. The Cadillac passed through a handful of small towns with what looked to Steve filled with ordinary everyday people. Steve attempted to get their attention. The people just merely waved at him and laughed misunderstanding his waves for help as a gesture of greeting.
What the hell is wrong with these people, Steve thought.
The Cadillac drove out of the last small town and headed straight. Steve grabbed the steering wheel and tried to turn the car off the road. The steering wheel wouldn’t move no matter how many times Steve turned it. He laid on the horn, but no blast came from it. The radio clicked on again to let out the Shadow’s ominous laughter and cranked itself to full volume. Steve covered his ears and screamed. The radio clicked off again leaving Steve in complete silence.
Steve looked out the window when he realized the sun was gone. He had entered a land of perpetual twilight. A sign on the roadside declared it be Saint Marten’s Land. To his disbelief, everything in this place was lit by a huge yellowish moon that was suspended in the sky so close to the horizon line it looked as if it was a theatrical backdrop. Everything else was the color green. The trees, the plants, the animals, and people were all a bright shade of green.
He saw people working in a field with pitchfork and sickles. Others held torches of green fire so the workers could see what they were doing. Green cows grazed and wandered the fenced off area calling out to one another. Men carrying crossbows sat astride green horses monitoring those working in the field. Something loud struck the car starting Steve causing him to jump.
He looked in the rearview mirror and saw one of the horsemen’s crossbows aimed at the car. The workers in the field had stopped working to stare at the vehicle. He fired another arrow at the vehicle. The arrow bounced off. The workers rushed out of the area onto the road waving their torches, pitchforks, and sickles. They were yelling in a language that Steve didn’t understand. The horsemen galloped out onto the street behind the workers firing their crossbows at the car.
The Cadillac sped up as the workers hurled their pitchforks at the car. Steve watched these green-skinned people advance out the back window yelling at the car. They picked up their forks as they came to them only to relaunch them at the car. The horsemen switched the crossbows out for muskets and began to open fire. Their musket balls bounced off and struck the workers making them fall only to get run over by others and the horsemen.
The Cadillac came to the end of the road and drove back into the sunlight. Steve still watching as the green people stopped at the split of light and dark staying on their side. Shaking their fist and yelling at the car sped off. Ahead lay more open fields.

Down certain stretches of the road in the open fields, the bark of the tree became flesh like in appearance and coloring; black gnashing maws like hungry, insatiable mouths. The branch became tentacles with suction cups continually moving in an attempt to pull all within its reach then grasping it firmly shoving it into the gnashing, chomping black abyss that was its mouth. Steve saw the tree grab a bird from the sky and push it into the gnashing maw. He blessed himself as the car turned left again.
He passed through several ghost towns with the living trees lined the main thoroughfare. He assumed as their tentacle branches struck the Cadillac that the people of these towns met the end when the trees ate them. The sucker cups would stick to the window then pop off as the Cadillac continued to move. He could have sworn he heard the trees howl or groan in outrage as he escaped their grasp. He came to the end of one of these tree-lined towns and the car turned right.
He passed through the ruins of a city where dead bodies hung from the neck from the street light poles. He came to the next town the road was dark and narrow as it made various turns through the streets. Steve saw the citizens of this city frozen in time with looks of abject horror on their faces. They appeared to be fleeing but from what? He left the town only to find more frightened froze people on the roadside and into the country.
The car passed a black gothic style church a sign proclaimed it as the Church of the Needles. The car went on for serval more miles before it made two more right turns and then turned left. The street sign on the last street read Wilmont Avenue. The car stopped in the middle of the road, shutting off and the driver side door opened. Steve got out.

Wilmont Avenue
Steve stood there in the middle of the street which dead ended into a field and some forest. Six Gothic-style homes like his Grandpa told him lined the street. Steve felt uneasy and unsure of what to do next. He wanted to get in the car and attempt to leave, but if his Grandpa stories were correct, the car wouldn’t start back up until it was ready. Steve silently cursed as he heard a door to one of the houses open.
Steve turned to face the house and saw the man strolling towards him. His hair was well made; he wore a silken bathrobe, a pair of pajama pants, and leather slippers. As he approached the Cadillac and Steve, he offered both a warm smile. Steve looked at the man and squinted his eyes as if trying to remember when it came to him.
“Mister Cosgrove?” Steve asked.
Cosgrove flashed his theatrical smile and inclined his head. He stared at the Cadillac and then at Steve again before he spoke.
“At your service,” Cosgrove said taking Steve’s hands in his and squeezed them, “You must be young Master Steven. Yes, of course, you are your blue eyes gave you away just like Saul’s.”
“It’s Steve, sir, I like Steve,” Steve said.
“Then Steve you shall be my boy,” Cosgrove told him squeezing his hand again.
“My Grandpa is dead.” Steve blurted out.
Cosgrove flashed his winning smile again and gave that small incline of his head. He eyes were sympathetic and pleasant. He let Steve’s hands go and went over a stroked the Cadillac lovingly.
“News of your grandfather’s death has spread quickly on Wilmont Avenue and the surrounding streets, and we eagerly await his resurrection.” Cosgrove quietly mused not facing Steve.
“His what? Resurrection!” Steve marveled.
Cosgrove turned and spoke, “Of course my dear Steve. Sweet boy, you have come to Wilmont just in time.”
“I don’t understand.” Steve stammered.
“You will, soon enough you will,” Cosgrove answered.
Fear shot through Steve as Cosgrove grasped his shoulder and squeezed while smiling that theatrical smile. The sound of other doors opening filled the air and Steve felt stuck to the street. The others strolled out of their homes to stare at Steve.
They were all in their pajamas He noticed all of them from his Grandpa story as they introduced themselves to Steve one by one and giving their condolences upon hearing about his Grandpa’s death.
The first was Count and Countess Vonderstamp. The Count took and firmly shook Steve’s hand inspecting his face through his monocle.
“Ja, Ja you could pass for old Saul,” The Count marvel in what sounded like a German accent.
The Countess, a voluptuous woman, was next and offered Steve, her hand. Steve took it as the Countess raised a questioning eyebrow. Steve looked around confused as what to do next. He saw both Cosgrove and the Count kissing their hands and making a go on gesture to Steve. Steve raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
“Charmed,” She said and walked back to the Count.
The others came, and the last one was the mythical Gypsy. She was as beautiful as his Grandpa had described her. Her hair was jet black, short, and curled. Her eyes were ice blue they looked as if they could pierce people’s souls. Everyone bowed to her as if she was a queen and behind her was a young black hair boy roughly Steve’s age wearing a silver collar around his neck.
Steve felt like a deer trapped in the oncoming head lights of a semi. She stood before him, and her face broke out in a motherly smile. Steve thought he was standing in front of his grandmother. He shot a nervous smile back in her direction. The young man in the collar scrawled but remained silent.
Her well-manicured hands reached out and stroked Steve’s face. Her hands were soft and warm to the touch. It put Steve at immediate ease. She smiled that grandmotherly smile again. Steve began to relax.
“So Saul left you the Cadillac.” The Gypsy spoke.
“Yes, ma’am he did before he died,” Steve said.
A panged expression crossed her face. The young man in the collar scowl grew more profound. She walked to the car and stroked it affectionately then turned her attention to Steve.
“You must be famished from your long journey.” She said.
“I am actually, and I have to use the bathroom,” Steve answered.
This last part brought laughter from the residents of the street all except the collard one. She placed her hand on his shoulders and like Cosgrove squeezed them gently.
“Of course, Alex,” She said looking at the collared man.
“Yes, Grandmother?” Alex asked with an edge of hostility in his voice.
“Go and fix up a meal for your cousin who has traveled far to join us here on this special night.” The Gypsy instructed.
“Right away Grandmother,” Alex said inclining his head and going off.
Suddenly loud church bells pealed through the still late afternoon air. Steve jumped at the sound as a shiver ran down his spine. The Gypsy and the others laughed at him.
“Relax dear boy,” Cosgrove started, “it’s only the bells from the Church of the Needles.”
“Church of the Needles? I drove by that coming in.” Steve spoke.
“Indeed you did, young Master Steve,” Cosgrove said.
“What is it?” Steve asked.
The only response from the denizens was stranger smirks, snickers, and smiles. The fear coursed back into him. He licked his dry lips The Gypsy slide her arm into his interlocking them.
“You needn’t worry it is where they have taken your grandfather’s body.” She answered.
“Grandpa’s body! But why?” Steve shouted.
“For the resurrection now come let me feed you, my sweet boy.” The Gypsy said leading him off to her house.
“You must come by and have tea later.” The Countess instructed.
“He will.” The Gypsy replied.
“Then come by my place young Master Steve to see my latest and greatest puppet,” Cosgrove added.
“Of course my dear Constantine.” The Gypsy said getting a stunned Steve into her home.

The Meal
The meal was held in the backyard on a closed off patio terrace. The huge glass windows that surrounded them gave an uninterrupted view of the garden where peacocks chased peahens openly. The forest lay beyond a tiny stream. The dome ceiling roof made out of stained glass and small colored lights rained down upon them.
The round wooden table sat at least twelve. A vase of unusual flowers sat in the middle of the table. The flowers were black bell-shaped with purple dots on thorny stalks. The plates were china accompanied by real silver utensils, not stainless steel.
The plates loaded with steak, cooked onions, bacon, scrambled eggs, and hash browns. Cups of steaming coffee, with cream and sugar options; champagne flutes filled with mimosas. Slices of buttered toast sat on small saucers. The Gypsy sat one seat away from Steve so she could look at him. Alex stood at a serving station near the glass door that led outside.
Steve stared at the food on his plate almost unbelieving it as he would turn his head to glance outside. He was just in awe of the place so far and couldn’t believe Grandpa didn’t take him here sooner. The Gypsy held her coffee cup up and smiled at his wonderment. She sipped, and her eyes darted to Alex who only glared at Steve.
“Alex, fix yourself a plate and come join us.” She said.
“Very well grandmother,” Alex said fixing himself a plate as instructed.
“Dig in.” The Gypsy said gesturing to Steve’s plate.
Steve started to eat which widened the Gypsy to smile. Alex sat at the table and began to feed himself. The Gypsy was the last to eat.
“Grandpa told me before he died that he had a child with you. I always imagined meeting you but never thought it would happen.” Steve said taking a sip of coffee.
“Yes, we had a son Scott.” The Gypsy answered.
“Well if Alex and I are cousins then where is my uncle?” Steve enquired.
“We are not cousins yet; we just met give it some time to let me get to know you before we put labels on what we exactly are,” Alex said shoveling eggs into his mouth.
The Gypsy gave him a disapproving look. Alex sighed heavily, rolled his eyes and left the table.
“Did I say something wrong?” Steve asked.
“No Alex has always been a difficult child. As for his father your uncle, I am afraid cancer took him from us. Alex was his only child.” The Gypsy said.
“So you and Grandpa only had the one?” Steve asked.
“Unfortunately but believe me we tried to have more they didn’t make it to term.” The Gypsy said sounding hurt.
“What is with the collar around his neck?” Steve asked.
The Gypsy gave a small smile before answering, “Magic runs rampant here and in the lands you crossed to get here the collar controls Alex’s magic which is dangerous and his volatile temper doesn’t help. I am surprised you’re not angry Steven meeting your grandfather’s mistress as it were.”
“Truth is I am more curious than angry. What does everyone mean by my Grandpa is going to get resurrected and if there is resurrection why couldn’t you resurrect Scott?” Steve asked.
“Scott declined resurrection, as for the process only the priests at the Needle could answer that, and they all have their tongues removed after taking their vows to the order.” The Gypsy answered.
“Where is Alex’s mother?” Steve asked.
“She wasn’t a strong woman couldn’t hack it you might say. She fled for parts unknown after Scott’s death.” The Gypsy answered coldly.
“How are you still so young?” Steve asked.
“A lady never reveals her secrets young man, now finish eating.” The Gypsy said.
They ate the rest of the meal in silence. After the meal the Gypsy excused herself leaving Steve in this marvelous backyard alone. Alex came back in looking around to see if she was still there.
“Where is she?” Alex asked.
“I don’t know. Gone,” Steve answered.
“Good, I need your help,” Alex said.
Alex grabbed Steve’s arm and led him outside.
Alex
“Almost everything that woman just told you is a lie!” Alex growled.
“How so? That you and I aren’t cousins?” Steve asked.
“No, we’re cousins that part is true. But she has had other children with other men, not our grandfather. What did she tell you about my collar?” Alex said.
“That is kept your magic abilities in line,” Steve said sounding unsure.
“Bullshit!” Alex barked.
“I am sorry all of this is new to me magic and shit,” Steve said.
Alex sighed and nodded his head. He rubbed his cheeks and Steve watched him worried he might attack him at any moment.
“Right, right, right, right, this is all new to you Steve, sorry. My collar is called a wasting collar it is the secret to her immortality. Around the time of resurrection, she will drain my youth, and sanity from the collar keeping her eternally young leaving me old, decrepit and senile. Then they set me loose in the forest to wander around until I die.” Alex said.
“That sounds awful, are you serious?” Steve asked feeling scared.
“Dead serious I don’t want to die like the others she has collared. I need your help.” Alex pleaded.
“I don’t know what you want me to do? I have to go soon and meet with the others. I am so confused.” Steve admitted.
“They are all mad as god damn hatters. The Count and Countess freaks they have living in their house with them are all homicidal lunatic, and they encourage them to be so. Cosgrove is a sexual deviant, a filthy pervert who likes to tempt men so watch your ass crack around that guy.” Alex said.
“And how do I know you’re not lying to me your grandmother said your magic was dangerous and your temper was volatile,” Steve said.
“Dangerous,” Alex sounded hurt, “my magic is not a danger to anyone, and volatile temper well fuck, you’d have one too if you knew what fate laid in store for you.”
He tugged at the collar around the neck for effect. Steve felt ashamed. Alex reached out and patted Steve on the arm. Then as if hearing a sound which Steve couldn’t understand. He looked off in the distance and nodded. He patted Steve again.
“Come on let me show you my powers and what they call dangerous,” Alex said.
Alex went down three stone steps to the grass and strolled across it, and Steve followed close behind him. They crossed the little stream and near some bushes Alex knelt down. Steve saw it was a peacock and it was severely injured bleeding from the neck. Alex reached out and stroked the bird reassuringly.
“It’s alright little fella,” Alex said.
To Steve utter wonderment Alex’s hands became orbs of white light. He touched the peacock, and the bird instantly healed. It got up squawked and ran across the stream to join the others. Steve’s mouth hung agape as he looked at Alex who was smiling at the peacock running off in the distance.
“Holy shit,” Steve muttered.
“Can hardly believe it,” Alex said getting up.
“What do you need me to do?” Steve asked.
“My grandmother had a silver key in her bedroom it is to the collar we need to get it tonight during the resurrection banquet. Get the collar off me and flee in our grandfather’s Cadillac.” Alex said.
Steve nodded as Alex offered his hand. Steve grabbed it and shook it. Alex flashed a quick toothy smile and Steve thought if only for a moment are those fangs? The Gypsy’s voice cut through the air and Alex broke the handshake off. Both of them looked to see her crossing the stream.
“Boys, what are you doing out here?” The Gypsy asked.
“I was showing my cousin here the grounds. Trying to get to know him better I mean, after all, we are family.” Alex said clapping Steve on the back.
“He’s right it’s beautiful here. I can see why Grandpa never wanted to leave. Hell, I might want to stay here myself.” Steve said.
“Oh, I am glad to hear that and to see you two boys getting along so well.” The Gypsy said beaming.
“Pretty soon we’ll be as thick as thieves’ grandmother,” Alex said.
“Good to hear it but I need Steven the Count, and the Countess are waiting for him, and you and I must prepare for the resurrection.” The Gypsy said.
The Gypsy came and took Steve’s arm as she did before and began to lead him off. Steve looked back at Alex who mouthed the words “you’ll see.” to him.

Tea Time
The Gypsy walked Steve to the end of the walkway.
“The Vonderstamp’s residence is across the street, the house at the end of the block. I have to prepare for the resurrection song and feast tonight.” The Gypsy said.
“Song?” Steve asked.
“Yes, the bells at the Church of the Needles will play a special song for your grandfather.” The Gypsy informed him.
Steve nodded his head in an attempt to understand. The Gypsy saw his effort gave him a smile, a chuckle and a kiss on the cheek. She sent Steve on his way to have tea with the Count and Countess. As he wandered past the Cadillac to the home of the Vonderstamp’s his mind was a wash of all the things he’d seen on the trip. He puzzled over the two conflicting stories he’d been told.
He reached the house; it was a lovely gothic style mansion, just like all the others on the street. As he stood outside the high wrought iron gate, he marveled at the homes and wondered how these people could afford them, with what the housing market and economy were today. Maybe in this place, the economy and markets worked differently, but he didn’t know.
He pushed open the gate and entered. He started up the walk when he heard a commotion off to his left. He stopped and stared at a troupe of acrobats and clowns performed on the lawn. It was a rehearsal perhaps for Grandpa’s resurrection. The acrobats and clowns stopped their flips, rolls, tumbling and slapstick routines to wave and greeted Steve by name. Steve waved back and continued to the house.
On the large open porch, a shriveled looking person sat in a wheelchair. Its head was a ridiculous size as if someone had inflated it with too much air and its limbs were gnarled and twisted. Drool ran from one corner of its mouth, and it was being rocked back and forth by a man whose skin resembled lizard scales. He was gently shushing the thing in the chair as he rocked it back and forth.
Steve ascended the stairs staring at the thing in the wheelchair. The thing’s gaze fell on Steve, and it began to issue a high pitch shrill screeching noise. Steve froze as the thing would take deep panicked breaths between its shrill shrieks. The lizardman rocked the thing faster and faster shushing even louder. He looked at Steve and gestured to the door in a hurry along motion. Steve went in closing the door behind him cutting off the things horrible sounds.
He was greeted by two slender women with horrible buck teeth, their heads were bald and came to a fine point at the crown. They shared the same face, so Steve identified them as identical twins. They smiled at Steve but remained oddly hollow of any emotions.
“May we take your coat, sir?” They asked in a nasal unison.
“I am not wearing a coat,” Steve answered.
They began to laugh which turned into nasally honking sounds. They stopped when a pair of double doors off to one side of the foyer opened, and a midget in a suit and tails barged out. They stared at him their expression one of same stupid fear.
“You girls,” The Midget said in what sounded like a French accent, “Get the hell away from him, God damn it!”
The twins ran off breaking out into gales of their nasally honking laughter. Steve watched them flee from the midget. The midget strolled over to him and bowed from the waist. Steve nodded his head in response. The midget turned his attention to where the twins had run off.
“God damn pinheads. Greeting young Mister Steven if you will please follow me the Count and Countess are expecting you.” The Midget said.
“Steve you can call me Steve,” Steve said.
“Ah, and I am Andre, and while you are here, I am at your service. Now if you will please come with me.” Andre said and went back through the double doors.
Steve followed; the room was spacious with two sofas sitting across from each other and a long coffee table between them. A potted plant sat in the center of the table. A painting of large golden poppies hung on the wall. The floors were hardwood with an area rug under the coffee table. To his left was a huge picture window with a bench seat to watch the clowns and acrobats perform outside. Andre took his place by a serving station.
The Count sat reclined on a sofa, the Countess at his feet. He lazily swung the monocle before her eyes and her eyes dream like followed it. Andre cleared his throat.
“Count and Countess Mister Steve,” Andre announced.
The Count stopped swinging the monocle and put it back over his eye. The Countess blinked once or twice then hugged the Count’s leg. The Count gestured for Steve to sit down. Steve sat on the couch across from them. They both smiled at him. Steve smiled back. The Countess rose up from the floor and took place next to her husband smiling sheepishly at Steve. Andre began to serve the tea.
“You took the same spot as your grandfather. I believe he said it was his perfect ass groove spot.” The Count said.
“That sounds like Grandpa,” Steve said.
“Milk? Sugar?” Andre asked.
“Both, please,” Steve answered.
“So tell us, young man, what is it you do in the great wider world?” The Count asked.
“Oh, I am going to school for computers, and graphic design,” Steve started and then thought, “You guys know what computers are, right?”
The Count and Countess threw their heads back and laughed. Even Andre laughed at his question. Steve felt perplexed by their reaction and sipped his tea.
“Of course we know what computers are,” The Count started, “Andre owns one. We keep ourselves updated on what is happening in the wider world. Andre even orders item and he and Thane, out strong man, drive to our address in the wider world to pick them up.”
“Oh I wasn’t sure, forgive, me I just haven’t seen much in the way of technology since I arrived,” Steve said.
“Nothing to forgive young man you were unsure and what do you wish to do with these computer skills once you have acquired them?” The Count asked.
“I want to design video games,” Steve said.
The Countess smiled at Steve and began to rub her hand up and down the Count’s inner leg. The Count watched her smiling as he gently pushed her hand down. The bells rang out, and Steve almost jumped off the couch, The Count and the Countess got a maddening glint in their eyes as they looked off in the direction of the Church.
“Have you ever made love to a woman?” The Countess asked leaning forward so Steve would have a perfect view of her breasts.
“Um… I have a girlfriend back home.” Steve said helplessly at her breasts as if she had magnets on them.
“But that is just a silly girl,” The Countess said, “I am talking about a woman, a mature one that would be willing to take your hard cock and slip it into her wet pussy.”
“Um…ummm… I…” Steve started.
“Dearest stop, teasing the boy.” The Count chided playfully.
The Countess sat back smirking at Steve. Steve looked down at the table. The bells rang out once again. Steve’s heart began to race, and a loud moan came from somewhere. Andre looked at a part of the back wall.
“What the hell was that?” Steve asked.
“It is only Lenard our son.” The Countess said.
The moaning came from behind the wall louder this time at the mention of his name. Lenard began to beat the wall and moan louder. The Count gave Andre and nod of his head, and Andre went to the back wall. He pushed on it, and the wall popped opened.
Lenard was a hulking beast of a man in nothing but a pair of overalls. His hair was a matted black mess on top of his head. His hands and feet were deformed giving them the appearance of claws. He breathed in loud heaving sighs. He opened his mouth and let out an inarticulate scream. Steve had one thought upon seeing Lenard, Lobster Boy!
“Come to mama; baby. Come to mama.” The Countess coaxed standing up with her arms outstretched.
Lenard stumbled to the Countess looking down at the floor as he walked to her. He made small ah, ah noises as he walked. As he passed him, The Count, patted him on the back which brought what sounded like a laugh. Lenard fell into the Countess’ arms as she enfolded him in an embrace. She kissed him several times and sat him down at her feet. He made an odd sounding gargling noise which Steve took that as a sound of contentment.
Steve’s real attention was to the room that Lenard had emerged from. One of the corners was littered with human bones and right on top of the pile was the body of a mangled and twisted pinhead. The blood was freshly oozing from the dead body. Alex’s words rang in his head “homicidal lunatics.”
Steve’s eyes fell back to Lenard then he glanced out the window. He watched a tightrope worker fall from the tightrope to the ground. The clowns stopped what they were doing as another round of bells rang out. Steve’s heart raced as the clowns surrounded the injured acrobat they were all carrying mallets, and as the sounds continued to ring, they brought their hammers down on the wounded acrobat. Blood splattered everywhere. He turned his attention back to the Count and Countess and almost screamed.
The Count had unzipped his pants and had his hand down in there masturbating violently. The Countess’ breasts were exposed, and she was rubbing and pinching her nipples. The glint in their eyes was one of pure madness as if they belong in the nut house. He could hear the sound of the laughing pinheads. Andre now naked, started prancing around. Lenard let out a long howling scream.
“Time to eat big boy, come feed on mama!” The Countess shouted at Lenard.
The bells were still ringing louder than ever Steve had to cover his ears to try to drown it out. It rang inside his head and for a brief moment, he believed the sound was going to drive him mad like these people. Lenard sat up making a joyful panting noise and began to suck on one of the Countess’ breasts as the Count took the other one in his mouth.
Steve got up and bolt for the door with the bells ringing in his head and outside. He stumbled through the door onto the porch. The lizardman was prostrating himself before the thing in the wheelchair whose shrieks were louder than ever before. Steve stumbled and staggered back down the walkway covering his ears and letting out small screams.
He made it out to the curb and began to vomit in the gutter. The bells thankfully stopped. He stood up and then plopped down in the grass outside of the house. He heard the clowns and acrobats resume their rehearsal. He wiped at his mouth and looked up to see Cosgrove looking down at him with his theatrical smile.

The Greatest Puppet Ever
Cosgrove was wearing a tuxedo, with white spats, and his hair was greased down combed off to either side with a part down the middle. He offered a white-gloved hand to Steve which he took. Cosgrove helped Steve to his feet and even patted him on the back a couple of times.
Steve still felt woozy and unsure on his feet swaying a bit. He wasn’t sure if he was going to vomit again or not. Cosgrove saw this look on Steve’s face and toned down his smile to something less theatrical.
“Are you finished?” He asked.
“I don’t know?” Steve replied honestly.
Cosgrove nodded in understanding as he began to lead Steve off to his home. They passed the Cadillac which looked more like a sleeping animal in the fading daylight than an actual car. They crossed the street and went up the walk to the house that was directly across from the car.
They got to Cosgrove’s door, and Steve couldn’t help but notice the large brass knocker on the door was a ventriloquist dummies head with the knocker piece in its mouth. If he didn’t feel so queasy he would have found that refreshing.
“If you have to vomit again, kindly let me know, and I will direct you to the lavatory,” Cosgrove said.
“Deal,” Steve said.
Cosgrove reached into his pocket and produced a packet of mints. He offered one to Steve. Steve took it and put it in his mouth and began to suck on it as Cosgrove ushered him inside.
They stood on a little inside porch that had three stairs leading down to the foyer. Posters hung on the walls proclaiming Cosgrove the Extraordinaire. There was one from the Odium in New York and one from the Oriental Palace in Chicago. Steve looked around at the posters to see Cosgrove still smiling. In the center of the room was a table with a potted plant on it. Past that was a pair of double sliding doors underneath a pair of twin staircases.
“I’ve been diligently working on this since your grandfather’s death. I swear young Master Steven it is my greatest puppet to date.” Cosgrove said sound excited.
They took the three steps that led down to the foyer and went past the table to the pair of double slide doors on the back wall. Cosgrove opened the doors and gestured for Steve to go inside first. Steve entered the room, and his heart almost stopped.
The room was full of several hundred puppets lining the walls sitting on shelves. Some were horrible stereotypes of Blacks, Chinese, and Hispanics. The puppet’s eyes looked down at Steve from their places on the shelves. Their brows furrowed in the sense of general anger towards the stranger in their midst. In the center of the room was a long table in a chair in the middle of the bale sat a puppet that looked like Cosgrove.
Steve knew this one at once from his Grandpa’s stories it was Junior. It smiled at Steve and winked. It even raised its eyebrows up and down. There was a seat at the table covered in a white sheet, and there was something significant and human-shaped underneath it. Junior’s eyes went in that directing, and its smile grew larger as the rest of the puppets scowled down at him.
Cosgrove moved past Steve who lingered in the doorway. The theatrical smile was back on his face as he placed his hands on the white sheet. Junior’s head looked at Cosgrove and the sheet as did all the puppets. Steve watched as well.
“I offer you, my dear sweet boy, the piece de résistance,” Cosgrove announced and ripped the sheet away.
Steve’s hands went to his mouth to cover the scream that tried to escape from his lips. It was a naked life-size ventriloquist dummy, which wasn’t the problem; it was the dummy’s face that caused this reaction. Steve recognized it right away from pictures at his grandparent’s home. It was the face of Abe Frobisher restored to his youth. Abe turned his head to Steve and clacked his mouth twice at him. Cosgrove’s smile grew wider as did Steve’s eyes.
“Hey, Stevie boy what do you know?” Abe asked from his place at the table.
Steve could not answer he was unable to find his voice.
“See he’s speechless at your perfection!” Cosgrove announced.
“What wrong Stevie boy cat got your tongue?” Abe asked.
Abe began to make a yuk-yukking as if imitating laughter. He began to spin his head three hundred and sixty degrees going whoa, whoa, whoa as he did so. The other puppets in the room broke out in raucous laughter. Their puppet heads and necks were going up and down with every intake and outtake of laughter. Cosgrove clasped his hands together and joined in the laughter.
Steve wanted to scream but still couldn’t find his voice. Abe’s head stopped spinning, and he just stared at Steve with his unblinking puppet eyes. Cosgrove stroked the back of Abe’s head affectionately.
The bells began to ring again, and the bile raced up Steve’s throat. The puppets started to hoot and howler from their places on the shelves all sorts of nonsensical, incoherent things. Abe stood up and showed off his naked body. Cosgrove got this hungry look on his face watching Abe. Abe then turned to Cosgrove, winked and bent over the table.
“Drop your knickers I can’t wait until lunchtime,” Abe said.
Cosgrove unzipped his pants and let them drop to the floor showing off his massive erection in his boxer shorts. He approached Abe from behind as Abe placed his hands on the table he winked at Steve. Cosgrove began to fuck Abe from behind as the bells, and the laughter of the puppets grew louder in the room and Steve’s head.
Steve’s paralysis broke, and he began to scream. The puppets, Abe and Cosgrove joined in the screaming followed by gales of mocking laughter. Steve took to his heels and ran for the door. He flung open the door and slammed it shut behind him as he stumbled and staggered once again down another walkway.
It was night now as Steve left Cosgrove’s house behind him and as before he reached the gutter and vomited. Afterward, he laid in the cold grass by the curb in the fetal position. His body shook as if he was running a fever. Alex was right about everything he had to get him out of this madhouse. A pair of bare feet appeared in his sight, the toes painted red and well pedicured. He looked up to see the Gypsy in a golden shiny harem girl outfit. She smiled down at him.
Escape: The Resurrection Song
She bent down and stroked the side of his face with her cold hand. Steve thought it was a blessing as his body felt as if it was on fire from the inside. He closed his eyes and tried to stop the world from spinning.
“I am sorry Steve, but I should have warned you that everyone goes a little mad close to resurrection time.” The Gypsy said calmly.
Steve got slowly and uneasily to his feet. He swayed and almost went back down to the ground. The Gypsy shot her arms out to catch him, but he managed to right himself without her help. She started back to her home and Steve followed set on getting Alex and himself off of Wilmont Avenue for good.
Her hips swayed like a metronome as she walked and Steve found it hard to concentrate on anything else. He followed her up the walkway and back into her house. Off to one side, Alex was watering some plants. Alex gave him a slight head nod which he returned. The Gypsy turned and faced Steve smiling.
“Do you like my outfit?” She asked.
“Oh yes, it is very nice,” Steve said looking at her up and down with a feeling of lust growing inside of him.
She smiled widened as if she could sense this off of him and she gave him a small shimmy. Steve swallowed hard and forced a smile.

“It was your grandfather’s favorite I wear it for him,” She said tracing her hands up and down her sides, “I dance for him, and then I tell him to lead me to the bedroom master.”
She dropped a sly wink at Steve. Steve closed his eyes and let out a slow breath fighting back the urge to take her in his arms and have his way with her. He opened them again to find her smiling and swaying her hips.
“Come into my parlor, Steve. Come on with me handsome boy. I will do your tarot. We can wait out the rest of the song. Wait for your grandfather, Saul; I will recline at your feet. Come to me.” The Gypsy beckoned.
Steve went to her unsure if it was under his own volition or not. The Gypsy took his hand and led him off to the parlor. Curtains hung on the walls, plants sat in the corners, candles and incense burned on tables around the room. Glass orbs hung on strings from the ceiling reflecting the candlelight. A small circular table sat directly in the center of the room covered in a purple and pink tablecloth. A glowing crystal ball sat in the middle of the table. Inside of the crystal ball, an eerie lavender fog rolled around.
A chair sat on one side of the table across from it was a huge dark blue pillow. A deck of tarot cards lay on the table in front of the pillow. The Gypsy walked over to the chair and pulled it out, patted the seat and beckoned Steve over with a finger. Steve took his place; she went to the pillow and put herself into a full lotus pose.
She began to shuffle the tarot cards. She slid the deck to Steve.

“Cut the deck, handsome boy. Did you know you were Saul’s favorite? Did you know from the moment you were born he did nothing but talk about you? His blue-eyed sparkly grandson.
He was going to bring you here when you got older, but he got sick.” The Gypsy said as Steve cut the deck and slid them back to her.
“No, I didn’t know he was going to bring me here I would have loved to come with him though,” Steve said.
“Don’t worry you can be with him soon. Let me call you master like I did Saul until he gets back.” The Gypsy said winking and giving the deck a final shuffle.
Steve blushed, a deep red and this brought a giggle from the Gypsy.
“You knew you were his favorite?” The Gypsy asked.
“I did there was never any doubt,” Steve said.
“Don’t worry we’ll all be together soon, master.” The Gypsy said the last word breathy.
Steve got shivers down his spine as the bell rang in the night sky. The feeling of lust grew inside of him. The Gypsy took the top three cards of the deck and placed them face down on the table in front of her. She turned them over one by one to reveal Death, The Moon, and the Universe. She looked at the card perplex and then she grabbed the next card in the deck.
She turned the card over and stared at it. Her eyes widened in horror and in the realization that had come all too late.
“Dear God Steve, Alex No!” She said.
Alex seemingly came out of nowhere from behind the Gypsy holding the metal watering can he was using to water the plants. He brought it down hard on the back of the Gypsy’s head. There was a metallic clang, the Gypsy’s eyes rolled up to the whites. She fell, face first to the table with a thud. Steve’s reaction was to get up and attack Alex for attacking her. He got up with his fist balled. He wanted to kill him.
He charged at Alex. Alex grabbed him and threw him to the floor then slapped him across the face. Steve came back to his senses as the bells began to ring out in a melody.
“You good?” Alex asked.
Steve nodded and got up. They ran out of the parlor and with Alex in the lead running up the stairs to the Gypsy’s room. The bell’s melody filled the air as they entered the room. Alex ran to a jewelry chest and opened it. Alex smiled at the key and waved Steve over to him.
Steve stood next to Alex and looked in. The key was silver and looked oddly like the staff a shepherd or bishop would carry. Steve felt confused if Alex knew where this was the whole time why couldn’t he have gotten it.
“There it is, grab it!” Alex barked.
“That’s it? Why couldn’t you touch it?” Steve asked.
“I can’t not with the collar, please, we don’t have much time the song is almost over, please hurry up!” Alex begged.
Steve grabbed the key and put it on the collar. The collar unlocked and clattered to the ground. Alex let out a cry of relief. The bell’s melody grew faster, stronger, and louder. Alex patted Steve’s shoulder. Steve studied the unique key and looked at the collar on the floor.
“Come on let’s go, Steve, let’s go!” Alex said running out.
Steve followed; both men ran and leaped down the stairs to the door. They flung the door open and fled down the walkway to the car. Steve pulled open the door and slid in while Alex did the same thing. Steve turned to key in the ignition, and the Cadillac came to life. Both cheered. Steve turned the car around and started to drive off.
He saw it then, as they fled Wilmont Avenue for the last time never to come back. In the rearview mirror his Grandpa as a younger man once again, waving to him. He wasn’t sure if he was waving goodbye or waving for him to come back. Steve put the gas pedal to the floor, and they sped down the road.
“Don’t worry I think we’re safe now,” Steve said.
“Oh yeah, we’re safe now,” Alex answered.
Steve never saw it coming as Alex’s sharp teeth ripped into his throat.

The Purple Lady

As I have stated in a previous post on here I have seen paranormal things all my life. What I am about to tell you is actually the first paranormal experience in my life or at least the earliest I can recall.
I was two years old in 1985 in Chicago where I live now. I called her the purple lady because she was a being made out of a beautiful soft purple light.
She called herself Angela when we first met. I would wake up in the middle of the night in my room which I shared with my two brothers and she would be sitting barefoot in a full lotus pose at the end of my bed watching me. I never felt afraid of the purple lady. I actually enjoyed waking up top find her watching over me at night. She smiles and waves at me which caused me to smile back and I go back to sleep knowing she was there. She is the reason I never believed in monster or the boogie man growing up. I would learn about those dark things in my teen years.
The nights I would wake to see her she would be in my dreams. Yes, I can recall my dreams even from way back when don’t ask me how I just can. I would dream about being in my Aunt’s house in Skokie. We are the only two in the house in these dreams. Again I never felt afraid of her at any time these dreams felt natural to me. In these dreams, she would lose her purple glow and be a flesh and blood woman. She would wear a black sweater, black pants, and would be barefoot. Her raven colored hair would be up in a ponytail. She wore red lipstick and would kiss me on my cheeks and forehead.
Then she would tell me things. One of those things she told me has stuck with me more than anything over these long years. She said that certain people on the earth are actually the physical pieces of God’s body. That I was a piece of his heart. I am not sure how to feel about this message now that I am older.
Over the years as I got older like most people I stopped seeing her and things but I can always feel and sense them. Sometimes I get flash images of what those things are. I can still feel her some nights when I am restless watching over me as she always did and possibly always has.
I wonder am I the only one who has ever been visited by a purple light being like her before? I was listening to the youtube channel called Let’s Read and someone who had a near-death experience mentioned purple light beings so maybe I am not alone.