Infested

 

     We got out of the Uber and stood in front of the resort. It was stunning. The wooden arches stood at least twenty feet above us. There was a large skylight in the entry. We dragged our luggage across the inlaid marble floor to the desk to check-in. We had been saving for this vacation for nearly a year. 

     After we received our room key, Luke and I went to check out the room. It was as spectacular as the lobby. The linens were all white. A huge bouquet of flowers added a dash of color to the room. We put our luggage in the closet and headed out to do all of the tourist stuff on our list.

     We went snorkeling. I could see so many fish. I almost felt like a fish as I felt the crystal clear water flow around me. I went back to shore to rest and to catch up on my new novel. I got up and ran to Luke when he came running out of the water with a look of terror on his face. It was just that he had fish larger than he had brushed up against him. We were lucky that it wasn't a shark. We hugged and rested in the sun before heading back to the room.  

  

     Luke and I had a beautiful romantic evening. I loved his crooked smile and the way his eyes would sparkle when we were in bed together. We had been together for over three years now. I met him through a friend at work and it didn't take long before I knew that he was the one for me. We both wanted to travel, so we saved up for this trip to Jamaica. The bed linens were soft and cozy. We drifted off to sleep, entwined in each other's arms.

     I awoke feeling warm and itchy. I looked down and saw a small red insect crawling on my leg. I drew in a breath and quickly flicked it off of me. I saw one crawling on Luke, so I quickly brushed it off of him. He awoke, startled.

     "I think we have a bug problem." I tried to be nonchalant, but I was feeling creeped out. 

     Luke got up and turned on the lights. He unmade the bed. He shook the sheets and looked in and under and around the bed. Everything was clean. 

     "You sure it was a bedbug, it looks pretty clean Elle."

     I thought it was, but maybe I looked too quickly.

     "Should we ask for another room?" I asked.

     "Nah, we're in a tropical place. I think we can expect that there's going to be bugs."  

  

     After tossing and turning and itching, even when there was nothing there, I finally fell asleep. It didn't last and I woke up again. A metallic scent filled the air. That was probably my imagination too. Maybe it was some weird cleaner they used here. I looked over and Luke was sound asleep so I left the lights off. I crept to the bathroom and I turned on the light. 

     In the bathroom mirror stood a monster. My face, my entire body, was covered in bloody bites. My eyes had felt uncomfortable, but I thought it was from allergies. They were swollen from the bites. It took me a minute to comprehend what I was seeing. I tried to let out a scream, but my vision narrowed and I dropped to the floor.

     Morning came and after knocking several times, the maid walked into the room. The man was in the blood-stained bed. He looked like ground meat with bites covering his body. The maid looked around the room for the woman. She was on the bathroom floor also covered in bites. Neither one had survived.

     The maid smiled. She whistled and thousands of bed bugs gathered in front of her. She opened her bags and they ran in. Time to move on to the next room. This human infestation would one day be eradicated. 

Haboob

 

     It was too hot. The heat hit my face like opening an oven door as I left my office building. What else could you expect during the monsoon season in Arizona? I had left work early because the afternoon storms were rolling in. We could expect a dust storm followed by heavy rain. I worked far from my office and I wanted to get a head start. The winds were already kicking up as I walked across the parking lot I felt the heat radiating through my shoes. 

     I got in my small Toyota. I could see the cloud of dust in the distance, but it was still pretty far away. I thought of the road closures and hours of delays and I headed out as quickly as I could. The visibility was acceptable. I did notice that the cloud seemed to be moving towards the valley more quickly than I expected. You could never tell how fast the dust cloud would roll in.

     The giant haboobs were an annual event in Arizona. There were typically three or four during the season. They reminded me of photos from the dust bowl. The dust bowl resulted in the destruction of the ecology of the areas impacted. Nothing would grow and people had to migrate away from those areas. It was estimated that 7000 people died from dust pneumonia. Our dust storms came from the dry desert. We had been in a drought for the last several years. The wall of red dirt could reach up to 3300 feet and could stretch for miles. 

     I was halfway home when it hit. I had lost track of the cloud. One minute I saw the freeway, and the next I was surrounded by a spinning cloud of black with paper debris floating past my windshield. I wanted to pull over, but I didn't know where the drop off was from the freeway. I had no choice, I pulled the car over. Fortunately, the shoulder was level with the freeway. I could not see if there were other cars in front of me or behind me.

     I sat in my car and listened to music while I waited for the cloud to pass. If it stretched for miles, it could be hours before I would be able to try to get home. The sand fell on the window like rain. As I watched the dirt cover my car I started to feel claustrophobic. The glass of my windshield started to make cracking noises. I wasn't sure if it was the wind or the weight of the dirt pouring on to the car. I heard a snap and the windshield cracked. 

     I held my breath, afraid that even the smallest breath would shatter the windshield. My eyes teared as I kept playing the scene of me getting smothered by the dust with no place to run. I heard a scream. The glass shattered and the dust came into the car floating all around me. A gaunt arm reached through the windshield and grabbed my neck. A second arm appeared and held my neck. I could not move. I tried to scream, but its hand slid from my neck to my mouth.

     My eyes burned from the sand and I choked on the dirt. The creature crawled through the window by moving its torso back and forth like a snake. It would not release me. It was gaunt and the color of red earth. Its skin was cracked and dry as if it had formed from the drought. It had flat dead eyes like a shark and razor-sharp teeth. It kept shrieking. I prayed, because I didn't know what else to do. 

     The demon would not let me live. The sand continued to pour around me until all that was uncovered was my face. The taste of earth began to fill my mouth and the dust continued to pour in. There was no end to it. I felt like I would vomit, but I couldn't even do that. I could do...nothing. 

     The dust blew into my nose and then above my nose. The demon's stare gave away nothing, but it's grimace spoke volumes. I felt my chest tighten and I gave up. I closed my eyes to prepare for my eternal damnation. Tonight the demon would have my soul, and it wasn't even offered. 

You and No Other

 

I go to my favorite thrift store. I browse through the racks of clothing representing many decades. I can see myself in the bell-bottoms going to a Styx concert or in the Victorian blouse going to work. The clothes have personality and I bet that many have seen more exciting things than I have.

     I venture over to the display case and I examine its contents. There are rings and cigarette cases. There are trinket boxes and over on the right, there is a beautiful silver locket. I ask the salesgirl to take it out of the case. I put it in my hands and it feels warm. How very strange. It has an ornate scroll design and the French posey ring saying on the back of it "You and no other". It is fifty bucks. Kind of steep for a thrift store purchase. I decide to buy it and I head home.

     I make some dinner, I read a little from my book, and I head to bed. I am sound asleep when I hear something. I open my eyes and feel the icy cold air around me. I see a shadow in front of the bed and I hear my name whispered in a low sing-song voice "Anna".

     I examine the shadow more closely. It is a man. He has long hair and is wearing some type of long coat. He looks at me and says "Anna". I am so cold. I reach out towards him hoping to prove to myself that he isn't real. I expect the image to blur into the air when my arm reaches him. Instead, he grabs my arm and I scream.

     I feel light on my face and I open my eyes. I see my crushed white bed linens surrounding me. The room is quiet and no figure is present. It was a terrible nightmare. I get dressed in my Victorian blouse and new locket. The locket feels warm against my chest. When I wear it I feel comforted. It is an odd but pleasant sensation. At the grocery store, I receive a compliment on it. It is fifty dollars well spent.

 

     That night the same thing happens. The room turns ice cold. I try to ask my phantom what he wants or who he is. He can't seem to tell me. He seems more solid than the night before. He kisses my hand and it feels like an icy breeze. His image is gone again. This time I realize that this is no dream. I find myself wishing that he wouldn't disappear so soon.

     I start looking forward to going to bed. My handsome scepter appears every night. His image becomes more and more real. I have never had such a loyal man in my life. I start missing work because I want to be close to the bedroom so that we can spend time together. In fact, I can't remember how long it has been since I left the house. I have lost weight and I can't remember when I last ate anything. I feel weak and I am often unconscious now. I feel my heartbeat slowing and he is at my side. I succumb to the darkness and feel myself turn as cold as he is.

     He says "At last Anna, you and no other" and I spend the rest of my afterlife in his nightly embrace. 

Sustainable Vampirism

 

 "All that blood looks good on you. It really brings out your eyes."

     Elizabeth grimaced as she looked down at her Adventure Time t-shirt covered in smeared blood. She hated getting messy, but it was part of the process. Count Markworth was still looking at her with desire. She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed.

     "Well, if you were a little more mindful in your killing I'd have more time for that," she quipped as she brushed a blood-crusted lock of hair behind her ear. She spent most of her day sorting through the bodies so that she could properly dispose of them in a sustainable way.

     They met at a green initiatives meeting. Well, he wasn't actually in the meeting. He was walking outside the building where the meeting was held and when he threw his plastic cup on the ground she stopped to scold him. When she was done explaining that plastic takes 1000 years to break down, he looked at her with amusement in his eyes and invited her for coffee. She wanted to say no, but he was charming, even if he was a lousy steward of this planet.  

     On her third sip of the delightful latte, he told her that he was Count Markworth and that he had been alive for 500 years. He told her that he was a vampire. He stared at her with his icy blue eyes and asked her if she was afraid. Elizabeth shook her head, "I am only afraid of your total lack of consideration after being on this planet for 500 years." She was adorable. He took her hand and they went back to his place. 

     They made love and he drank her sweet, humanitarian blood. Elizabeth was curious above all else and asked him about the logistics of the vampire lifestyle. He told her how he had to hunt nightly. She explained that she did not identify as a vampire and that she was a lifelong vegan. He had figured. He had detected no animal products in her blood. She then asked him the oddest question "Do you dispose of your carcasses in a sustainable way once you drain their blood?" 

     Honestly, he wasn't sure.

     "Well, I have my servants dig a pit and we throw them in." 

     Elizabeth clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes at him. 

     "What?"

     "You need to strip the bodies so that the clothing and jewelry can be recycled. You may also be able to cut their hair and donate that. For that matter, it's possible many of the body parts can be recycled." Of course, not all the blood could be drained if they did it that way, but it would be so much more recyclable. 

     He had never really thought of things that way. He had been doing this for a long time and his carbon footprint hadn't been on his mind. She was right, of course. She was young and energetic. She made him want to be a better being. After 500 years of wandering on this planet, that was remarkable to him. He wanted to keep her around. He offered her a job as his personal sustainability coordinator. The look in her eyes was as if she had won the lottery. She took the position quite seriously.

     She stood in front of the slab with her surgeon's knife, carefully cutting away anything that could be reused. As the blood splattered onto her hair and snarky t-shirt of the day, he didn't think he had ever seen anything so adorable. While she was doing this, she was smiling and humming along to the music in the background. He felt good that he was able to feed in a much more sustainable way. He could murder, but now he could murder green.      

Saved by the Bell

 

     Her eyes opened. Darkness surrounded her. The last thing she could remember was the dinner party. They had been engaged in a delightful conversation with the Berefords. They were visiting from Cornwall and they had many stories about living by the sea.

     One moment she remembered hearing about the seagulls stealing Mr. Bereford's tophat, and the next, she remembered feeling the room closing around her until all she saw was darkness.

     She was not in her home now. She wasn't quite sure where she was. Her high collar felt constrictive as the oxygen was becoming more limited by the moment. Her mind raced and she tried to make sense of her surroundings.

     The silence was complete except for her breath. The realization hit her. She screamed at the top of her lungs and smacked her hands against the lid. It was useless. What could she do? 

     She remembered what should be in the tiny prison with her. She squeezed her hands along her sides feeling them get crushed against the walls of the casket. She felt and felt until she touched the cool metal.

     She pressed down and the bell rang out echoing in the darkness. She heard tapping and scraping above her. Suddenly light flooded her and she closed her eyes. 

     "Sorry miss looks like you were really were saved by the bell." The undertaker reached out his hand to help her out of the coffin. 

     She looked around the graveyard and wondered how many bells had rung here. She gazed at the sky and pondered her good fortune.

The Camping Trip

 

     Mark and Paul arrived at the campsite. Their daughters giggled and ran around the grounds as they set up the tents. It was their first time taking their girls camping. The air was crisp and cool as dusk approached.

    Paul started the campfire and Mark turned on the camp stove so they could have dinner by the fire. They ate and sang silly songs. They were the only campers in the area, so they could make as much noise as they wanted to. It was still light out after dinner, but the girls ran out of steam. They decided to go to bed.

    "Hey Mark, do you smell that?"

    Mark had smelled it all night. It was a sickly odor, decay. "Yeah, why don't you keep an eye on the girls and I'll go check it out."

    Mark started up the hill and saw something moving around, but he couldn’t tell what it was. As he moved closer he saw that it was a golden retriever. The dog had something in its mouth. It looked like a piece of carcass. The dog ignored him as he continued to survey the area. Vomit crawled up Mark’s throat and escaped to the ground as he saw the decapitated carcass on the ground. It was so mangled that he couldn’t tell what it was. Dog? Coyote? Bear?

    He had the unpleasant task of wrapping the head in a plastic bag in order to keep predators away from the campsite. He wondered what the Golden Retriever was doing all the way out here. Did some idiot leave their dog? If he had been friendly, he may have taken the dog, but that dog didn’t seem overly excited about people.

    Mark made his way back to camp. The fire was out, so he used his phone to light the pathway. His phone was running low on charge. He always forgot to bring his charger because he thought he wouldn’t need his phone when camping, but he always ended up using it in some capacity.

    “Hey Paul, this is what I found”

    Paul paled and threw up on the ground behind him.

    “Was that it, no body?”

    “No body” Mark confirmed.

    They went into the tents where their daughters were already sleeping. Mark was restless. He couldn’t stop wondering what could have killed what he found. He hoped it wasn’t close by. It was so dark up here and the girls were already asleep, so he didn’t want to drag them out of there. He still heard a voice inside of him that kept telling him to run.       

    Paul’s eyes opened as he heard a dog yelp in the distance. He tossed and turned as he tried to get back to sleep. The glow from the moonlight on the tent displayed shadows of the trees outside. A new shadow appeared. It looked large. He couldn’t tell what it was, but then he heard footsteps. He also heard a scraping sound.

    “Hello?” a voice called.

    Paul opened the tent tentatively and an arm reached in holding a machete. The dirty blade was covered in fresh blood. Paul and his daughter were both instantly and fatally sliced before they could make a sound.

    Mark had heard the footsteps and he woke up Kelly to try to get her to the car. He had gotten her to the car when he saw Paul and his daughter get attacked. He turned on the engine and the man with the machete came running towards them. The old man had a long beard and white hair sticking out all over his head. His eyes were dark and crazed as he swung at the tires.

    Mark peeled out and the dust that kicked up temporarily stopped the man from swinging his weapon.  They were able to escape.

    As soon as Mark reached town he called 911 for Paul and his daughter, but he knew that he was too late. He cried as he held Kelly, so thankful that she was ok, but also grieving the loss of his friend and his child.

    The police and rangers headed to the campsite. They never found the man. They did find hundreds of dogs buried around the property. The man had been mutilating stray dogs and dogs that people had brought camping. Unfortunately, he had recently started to include people in his activities and they had found a few human bodies on the land as well.   

        

Recall Alert

 

This was my winning entry in an horror poem contest on fanstory.com

The news displayed on our phones,

just another food recall.

Checking packages of hamburger.

Are we in danger? Yes.

Calls to loved ones, can't get through.

Alarm growing,

pain seizing,

can't make it to the bathroom,

throw up in the sink.

Confusion, what do we see?

Tiny devices swimming in the vomit, but so many more inside. 

Thousands of nanites clawing away our intestines.

The price for eating.

Safety an illusion.

Thousands dead. The tiny armies beginning their work. Recall on humanity.

Creepy Crawler

 

     The footsteps pounded behind her rapidly. Before she turned around her heart already started to beat wildly in her chest. Something wasn't right. On the stairs below her, a tourist stared behind her with panic in her eyes. She finally turned around to see hundreds of police descending towards her. 

     "Aller" they yelled. 

     She had no place to go. She was soon engulfed in a sea of dark uniforms pushing against her. She held on to the railing trying not to fall down the stairs. The police smelled of sweat and cologne. Some of them pushed in extra close so that they could feel her tits. Even in a crisis, they always had a moment for that. She tried to ask what was happening,but her question fell on deaf ears. 

     "Madame, this station is closed." 

     Her walk home would be much longer now. When the sea of police cleared she noticed

the tourist still on the stairs now crying like a child. She sighed if only visitors made moreof an effort with the language, but Americans were stubborn that way. 

     She approached the woman, "Hello, did you need help?" 

     She was flooded with a stream of English far beyond her knowledge. She picked up the word hotel and asked "which hotel?" Ah, the L'Etoille. She indicated that the woman should come with her. 

     As they exited the station, she realized that this wasn't another protest shutdown. The streets of Paris normally full of life were empty. A few fires burned in trashcans as she looked down the street. In the last several weeks there had been numerous protestsresulting in violence an arrests. It was much quieter in the streets than during all the other incidents. 

     The tourist was looking at her crumpled Paris map. It was obvious that she had no idea where she was going. She was plump with her hair in a straight graying bob. She had on jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt. The American uniform. Colette thought about cutting her loose, but it was unsettling how empty the streets were and she just couldn't do it. The darkness in the street looked odd to her and probably terrifying to that American.

     "Hey, I'm Colette, crazy night. I will help you get to your hotel room, okay?" 

     The American looked at her with gratitude. "I'm Cindy. I'm from Nebraska." 

     Colette had no idea what the significance of Nebraska was, but she smiled and nodded encouragingly at Cindy. They set off towards the Hotel L'Etoile. Colette's shoes tapped on the cobblestones as they walked. After several minutes there were additional footsteps in between Colette's. They weren't Cindy's because her sturdy sneakers were silent. Colette looked around, alarmed. 

     There were a shuffle and a groan and some scraping metal sound. Whatever it was, it would be best to get away from there before they found out what it was. Colette wished she had just gone home, but Cindy seemed nice enough and she didn't want to leave her out here like this. "Cindy let's pick up the pace, no?" 

     Cindy was obviously running out of steam. "Can...we...take...a...break?" she managed through her wheezing.

     Colette nodded, against her better judgment. A figure about 20 meters away dashed across the street. Colette almost thought she was imagining it until she saw Cindy give her a worried glance. "Well, he sure was in a hurry! One of those protesters?"

     Colette nodded "Yes. probably."

     The figure emerged from behind the trash bin across the street. He was gaunt and didn't look quite right. Colette wasn't sure what she was seeing. It moved quickly towards them and she noticed what was off. It had eyes that resembled opals. The flesh from its face was loose in places and totally missing above the brows. It moaned and lunged and started running more quickly towards them. 

     Cindy screamed. Colette grabbed her arm and pulled Cindy along as they ran away from the zombie. 

     "Do you have anything dangerous with you?"

     Cindy shook her head no, but then she said, "Well, I have some scissors in my purse from this morning when I was working on my Provencal quilt."

     "Perfect!" said Colette. She had a knife in her boot that she kept with her when she took the metro around town. They were heading to the L'Etoile and Charlotte hoped that the situation at the hotel would be more normal than it was over here. Cindy was obviously running out of steam. 

     "Just a little further," said Colette.

     Cindy caught her breath, "Thanks, I'm, so sorry I had no idea I had to be in good shape to visit Paris."

     "It's okay," Colette said as they continued their walk down the dark street. She flashed her cell phone light in front of them so they could see where they were going. They heard more scraping and moaning, but it much much louder this time. Colette worried that the next time they ran into one of the zombies, they may not be so lucky.

     From behind them, an emaciated arm grabbed for Cindy. Colette stabbed at the arm and it released Cindy and the zombie who owned the arm lunged at Colette. She stabbed the zombie in the eye and it fell to the ground, blood pooling around it.

     Cindy stood there, her mouth agape. More zombies were descending upon them. Colette stabbed each one as they approached. One of the zombies was inches from Colette's face. She tried to stab it, but it kept dodging her knife. Just as the zombie was about to bite Colette, Cindy took her scissors from her pocket and stabbed it, watching it fall in front of Colette in a pile of rotting flesh and blood.  

     "Well, that was kind of fun. The Walking Dead is one of my favorite shows." Cindy smiled for the first time that evening.

     Colette gave her a disgusted look and they continued walking since the onslaught of zombies had ceased. They reached the hotel, but it was all dark. When they went into the lobby there were zombies everywhere and the zombies started moving towards Cindy and Colette. They backed out of the lobby and slammed the door.

     Cindy reached in her pocket and produced a couple of croissants. "Hey, you hungry?"

     Colette was surprised those pockets could hold two croissants, maybe American apparel did have some advantage in a zombie apocalypse. She gratefully grabbed the croissant. 

     "Thank you, Cindy, I think we are in for a long night."

     They walked out toward the black streets of Paris as they ate their croissants.     

Thanks Death

 

Photo by Mitja Juraja from Pexels  

    She kicked gingerly at the hooded figure collapsed in front of her. It didn’t move. She wasn’t sure if this was a temporary state or if she should be more concerned. She looked up and down the street, but nobody was around. It was late at night in her sleepy town, so she wasn’t surprised. Apparently, she was the only night owl in town. Possibly, the night owl of death.

    Finally, she felt the tiny mirror swimming in her purse and grabbed it. She knelt down to hold the mirror near its mouth, well, what she thought was the mouth. There was no sign of life. She wasn’t sure in this case if that meant anything.

    Her leg stung a bit from when the scythe nicked it when Death collapsed. She’d have to get some peroxide on that. As she started to realize what she had done, her heart sped up a little. She was usually so good at dealing with chaos, but this, well, what did one do when one managed to kill Death?

    In her defense, it was not her fault. He (or she) had been staring down at a phone. Really? Was there an app for that? Meg had been outside practicing her energy work. She had been focused on life energy as she went through her meditation. That certainly was not a hazardous activity, but when you throw out life energy and it hits Death, the effects were quite surprising. Death had collapsed as if struck by a car.

    Meg kind of hoped that Death would just disintegrate, like in a movie. No, Death was inconsiderate and the body remained in the street behind her house. She would have to deal with it. She went to lift the body, but it was too heavy. Meg looked up the street again, still empty. She went back inside to get the rolling palette. She dragged part of Death onto the pallet and it was enough where she could move the body, barely.

    She rolled Death into her yard. Many times she had joked about burying the bodies but didn’t see this coming. It took her hours to dig a hole deep enough. She rolled the corpse in and covered it up with the loose dirt. That didn’t look right. She quickly put her lawn chairs on top of the fresh mound and hoped for the best.

    She was exhausted. She had planned for a couple hours of deep meditation and instead, she got her own crime show. She went inside and decided to get some sleep. Yeah, she could sleep. When she wanted to sleep, nothing would stop her, including unfortunate accidents involving Death. Her kitty curled up next to her and she drifted away.

    When she opened her eyes the room was bright with sunlight. She heard her cat meowing asking for food. She got up, used the restroom, and fed her kitty. She flipped on the news and grabbed a muffin instead of the protein bowl, hey, it was a rough night she deserved a few carbs.

    Everything seemed fairly normal. She watched the news stories. There was an apartment fire, but everyone made it out unharmed. There were a few car crashes, but again, no fatalities. She got ready for work and her day proceeded normally. See, it was no big deal.

    The next day was fairly similar. That plane crash that everyone survived was sure something. Her mind started to connect the dots. Uh oh. She wondered how long it would be before this became noticeable.

    That night Meg put on her Speed Racer pajamas and cuddled in bed with her new book, her cup of tea, and her cat. This was going to be a great night. As she started Chapter 1 she heard a sound like wind. She unwrapped herself from the covers and walked to the windows, all shut. She checked the door, also shut. Weird. She went back to bed and the lights went out. Maybe there was a storm out there. Before her stood a being of light, like a ghost. Her eyes were wide and she cowered under her blanket.

    “Meg, you have been very bad,” the being spoke in a deep voice like a stern father.

   Really? All she did was move a little energy. It was no big deal. She was less afraid and more annoyed. “It wasn’t my fault!”

   The being shrugged, “I don’t really care, what I DO care about is the result of your actions.”

    “They weren’t my…”

    “Shhh, you will listen now.”

    My mouth was frozen shut, I really didn’t like that. I will not be silenced!

    “You shall temporarily fill in for Death while we find a proper replacement.”

    Oh good, my mouth was unfrozen, “Black is dreary and I haven’t been trained.”

    “This is not a request!”

    I looked under my covers and I was wearing a black cloak. Adorably, so was my cat.

    “You start tonight.”

    I started to protest, but found myself out of bed and heading for the door. The being was gone. I wanted to go back to bed, but my body didn’t agree, apparently we were going out.

    “Thanks, Death.”           

Morrigan

 

     It is approaching autumn, one of my favorite times of the year. I love Halloween and scary/horror stories. I am posting horror next at the suggestion of a friend, whose current favorite short on here is the romance, so go figure! I will likely post many horror stories for the season over the next month.

     James, Michael, Sean, and I finally arrive at Croagh Patrick. This is the mountain where St. Patrick fasted for forty days.  We all grew up in Irish Catholic families and we planned to visit Ireland one day. We all agreed that we wanted to visit Croagh Patrick as part of our itinerary. We grew up in Chicago, but now we live all over the country.  I live in Denver, James in California, Michael in Atlanta, and Sean remains in Chicago. We try to get together once a year to reconnect.

     We want to wait until morning to climb the mountain. We are hoping we can get better pictures that way. Compared with the mountains we have in Colorado, this should be an easy hike. In the middle of the night I have to get up due to too much Guinness. When I step outside to go, the night is so black that I can't see anything. It is also eerily quiet. I flip on my flashlight, but there is a thick fog surrounding our tents which obscures all that surrounds me. I reach my hand out and it disappears into the fog. I stumble and trip on something and I fall into the darkness.

     I feel a flutter behind me. I look, but I do not see anything. I hear a voice whisper "Aidan". I turn to my left and right and can't see anything. I must be hearing things. I decide to try to find the tent and go back to sleep. As I crawl forward there is a figure standing before me. A ghost? No this is a real person. A woman? Yes. I know her black eyes looking at me. I see only death in her. "I know you" I say. She smiles at me revealing sharp teeth. " I claim you Aidan McNeil". I want to say something, but she comes toward me and brushes my face, leaving it scratched. She transforms into a crow before my eyes. I feel around until I touch fabric, the tent. I crawl inside with some difficulty.

     I smell bacon and coffee. I open my eyes and see the interior of my tent. I unzip the flap and open it to reveal breakfast in progress. "Looking a little rough Aidan" Michael laughs. I feel a little rough. That was a crazy dream. I join the guys and we prepare for our climb. Apparently, they all slept fine. We pack up our gear and I tell them about my creepy dream.

     "Yeah, Ireland will do that to you" says James. Sean is limping a little from his torn ACL that is still healing, but this should be an easy hike.

     "What the hell did you do to your face?" asks Sean. I must have scratched it when I fell.  

     The path is slippery and rocky. It is foggy and I am starting to think that we will not get those great photos after all. We have been climbing for a bit and I hear a shuffle and a scream. Sean has slipped and his leg is hanging over the edge of the cliff. We rush to help him, but we also slip as we approach him. I see a pale arm grab his leg and before we know it he has been pulled off the cliff. It happens so fast that it doesn't seem real. His echoing scream etches into my mind. We are all stunned. How can he be gone? Were we seeing things?  

     We each start tearing up as we look over the cliff where we lost Sean so quickly. Michael bends down and grabs his knees as he collapses.

     I reach down to touch his shoulder. I don't really know what to do. "Mike, we have to go. We have to get in touch with Sean's family."

     He barely nods, but rises. James is staring off in the distance, his face unreadable. He says nothing as we head down as quickly as we can so that we can call Sean's family. There is no cell reception up here.

     Accidents like this happen all the time, but we never dreamed we were ion any danger. This was much safer than some places we had climbed.      

    We are all so stricken with grief that we don't notice the approaching storm. The rain starts pouring down. The path is getting even more slippery. We follow the river down so that we don't lose our way in the poor visibility. A rush of water appears from the river and before I know it Michael and James slip and are pulled into the river getting caught up in the current. I call to them and I reach for them and I fall into the water.

     Under the water I try to surface, but I can't. I feel bony arms reach around me and she is lifting me out of the water. Her claws surround me and when I try to loosen her grip she cuts my skin. Her black eyes gleam triumphantly. I think it is my turn to die, but I am mistaken. She has taken me into a place where darkness is all around us. I don't know if I am alive or dead. "A lifetime ago these three once dishonored me. Now they serve me" she hissed. She points her cold eyes towards me, her skin is as white as snow and she is wearing a cape of black feathers. "You are mine forever" she says. She hovers over me with her claws outstretched. I wish for death, but I shall have life that is drained away each moment with the Morrigan by my side.    

Bloom

Jenny went out to her garden to prune the roses again. She was having difficulty getting them to bloom. She cut away the dead branches, carefully avoiding the thorns. Other years her roses bloomed well, but this year had been challenging. She spent a lot of time working in her garden, but the roses didn't bloom. The truth was that it was probably time to pull them out and put in new ones.

She glanced over at her neighbor's yard. Every corner of the yard contained rose bushes filled with large blooms. Jenny wondered what the neighbor was doing to get those lovely blooms. She tried to catch her a few times so that she could ask her. Whenever she saw her in the yard and she ran outside to meet her, the woman was gone.

Jenny was sitting in bed reading a book that night. She heard the creaks of the house and quiet purr of her cat as he snuggled up against her. She also heard a scraping and pounding sound outside. She slipped out of bed and went to the window. The moonlight illuminated the ground below as she looked for the source of the sound. Her eyes looked for movement below, but all she saw were shrubs and trees blowing in the night breeze. She shrugged and went back to her warm bed.

A week later, Jenny went back out to the garden to work again. She finally saw a few rosebuds in her garden. Her hard work was finally paying off. As she glanced at her neighbor's yard, she noticed that the roses were missing. They must have been cut and brought in. She envied her neighbor as she thought about having fresh roses in her home. She loved the delicate fragrance. It always reminded her of her father, who had brought her a rose every week when she was a girl. He died when she was twelve. The scent of roses always brought back him back to her.

As Jenny went up the stairs of her porch, she noticed something in front of her door. When she got a closer look, it was a large bouquet of roses. Of course, it must have been the neighbor. That was so thoughtful. The neighbor must have noticed Jenny's sad blooms. She would have to give the neighbor a nice thank you note.

Later that evening she grabbed the thank you note she had written earlier off of the table. She walked over the neighbor's house. The porch light was on and Jenny knocked on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again. She saw a shadow in the window move and the locks on the door clicked. Jenny was surprised to see a woman in a dark hood in the doorway. It was her neighbor, but somehoe she seemed different. After a few seconds, Jenny tried to let out a scream, but cloth was placed over her mouth and the doorway grew black in front of her as she collapsed on the porch.

"Do you think we got them all?" the officer asked his young colleague, who was bent over on the ground, moving a woman's body into a body bag.

"I think this was the last one, she is kind of fresh." the skinny guy on the ground answered with distaste.

Mounds of dirt were scattered across the lot. A dozen body bags were scattered around. The rose bushes were no longer there. They all had to be uprooted to dig out the bodies. Nobody knew how long the woman had been doing this. They had gotten an anonymous tip.

"Well, I'll tell ya, that's a hell of way to make fertilizer." the older cop said as he wrote in his notebook and walked back to his car.

Bad Guy

Photo by Isi Parente on Unsplash

He saw her standing at the bar ordering a drink. Her long, dark hair fell below her shoulders. She was wearing leather pants and a slinky black shirt that complimented her perfect curves. She smiled at him with her darkly painted lips. A bad girl. He had a weakness for bad girls. Her bangles clinked as she grabbed her glass of whiskey and moved a little closer to him.  

     He was always the Beta Male. He went out with the women who would notice him. They were unremarkable. It never worked out. He hoped that one day he would meet the woman of his dreams and that she would treasure him. The woman at the bar was beyond his dreams.

     She could smell him before she saw him. He smelled of cologne, sweat, and the chicken he had eaten for dinner that night. Some smelled much worse. He was standing across from her, watching her at the bar. He wasn't there with a girlfriend or a boyfriend, that meant...her lucky night. She flashed him her wicked smile. She had him. She could see him drawn to her power. 

     "Hi, are you staring at me or the whiskey?" She served him her seductive stare.

     He heard her, but it took him a minute to respond. He had never seen a woman that hot before in person. She was absolutely perfect and she was talking to him. He ran his hand through his beard, hoping no chicken scent lingered there from dinner.

     "You. You are absolutely the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen." He felt like a sixteen-year-old asking a girl to prom. He coughed awkwardly to fill in the silence between them.

     She didn't let the awkward silence between them last. She moved in closer and just kissed him straight on the mouth while moving her perfect body against him.

     "You wanna go back to my place, maybe have some more whiskey and watch Netflix?"

     She wanted to roll her eyes, but she had control. She would smile and nod as if he had just solved the computer science problem P vs NP.

     He lived close by. These young people liked to live downtown within walking distance of the bars. That made it so much easier for her. His place was small and tidy. He poured her a drink and they sat on the couch. They kissed and he ran his fingers over her body. She could feel his eagerness and it made her power grow stronger.

     "Why don't we go to your room? I'll be right in" she gave him a deep kiss and heard his heart pounding in anticipation. She sheen of sweat on his skin emitted a spicy, tantalizing aroma.

     She walked into his room. He was wrapped in the navy blue sheets on the bed. Controlling the mind was tricky business. If she controlled too much, then his spirit could not be freed from his body. She started to put the idea in his head that he should surrender to her. 

     "You can do whatever you want," he said.

     He felt odd. He wanted to give her control, and that wasn't like him. His head felt a little foggy and he hadn't really had that much to drink. He tried not to worry about it. This was going to be the best night of his life. This woman was incredible. No wonder he wanted to let her do whatever she wanted.

     As she moved with him, he felt worse. Her mouth opened and she drew in a deep breath. As she did, his body felt weak. Something wasn't right. He asked her to leave. She smiled at him and it wasn't sexy, it was monstrous. He fumbled under the bed for his bat, hoping that she wouldn't notice.

     She did. She grabbed his arms and held him down with surprising strength. He yelped from her grip, but she only squeezed harder. He could almost feel her draining the life from him. He felt pleasure and pain and then he felt nothing at all.

    She ingested his life force. It gave her strength. Finally, she had her fill. She thought about using that bat to finish him off. Nah. She left him in the bed, alive, but in a vegetative state. She gathered her clothing and headed back to the bar.   

Nirvana

Photo by shannon VanDenHeuvel on Unsplash

Jen jiggled her key in the lock of her new apartment. The door opened to the odor of fresh paint. The creamy white interior was the perfect blend of Victorian and modern. Having searched for over two years for a place like this, she let out a sigh of relief.

He heard a sigh. He could see a woman moving around below. Her image was blurry, but it looked like she was unpacking boxes. He had seen many occupants through the years going through this process. It was always the same. Attempts to reach out always went unnoticed. How long had it been?

Shivers caressed Jen’s back. She jumped up from her bed and turned on her small stained-glass lamp. The room glowed with soft light. She pulled out The Call of Cthulhu and began to read. A pungent odor made her nose tingle. Her face twitched as the odor grew stronger.

He twirled through the air with excitement. She could smell him! It had been years since he was able to connect with residents. One time he was able to talk to a boy that lived in the house, but a child couldn’t help him. He needed to find them. Everything was lost. He needed to make it right.

She drifted off to sleep restlessly muttering about fucking Nirvana. She hadn’t thought about Nirvana in years. Her parents would go on about how groundbreaking Kurt Cobain was. It wasn’t her thing. She opened her eyes, fully awake. Teen Spirit echoed in the room as if she had left the stereo on.

A loud pounding on her door pulled her from the sound. She looked through the peephole. A couple, covered in tattoos and piercings, probably mid-forties, stood at her door with their arms crossed.

Opening the door with her brightest smile, “Oh hey, I’m Jen.”

“Your music is too loud.” the woman looked beyond Jen examining her freshly refurbished apartment.

The music stopped.

“Music? I don’t have any music on.”

It was silent.

“Well, keep it down or next time we’ll call the police.”

So, apparently, they were not as progressive as they wanted to appear. People these days! They walked off without saying anything else before Jen had a chance to respond.

In the next few weeks, he spoke to Jen in the only way he could. He made bumps in the attic echo through the house. He blared grunge music as she went to sleep each night. He made sure the neighbors didn’t bother her. She didn’t seem to appreciate his efforts.

One morning he saw Jen, bleary-eyed made a call to her friend.

“Ty, I think I might have a ghost.”

“Excellent, I’ll bring my gear over tomorrow night,” he enthusiastically replied.

He wondered exactly what equipment was being brought over. Who was this Ty? He didn’t want anyone to interfere.

Jen stepped out of the steamy shower as she looked into the foggy mirror. Startled by a figure standing behind her. Not a mysterious figure in black, but a guy, probably around her age. He had long, messy brown hair and a goatee. He wore a brown and yellow striped shirt. Her shrieks echoed as she pulled her towel tightly closed. The apparition in the mirror smiled. A gleaming smile that made him look at least somewhat charming.

“What the Hell?!”

There was a knock at the apartment door and he faded from view.

“Hey, Ty. The sounds are coming from up there. Let me get dressed.”

Ty looked up from Jen’s towel and to the attic door. “How classic, creepy sounds in the attic. Ok, so are you hearing moans, whispers, or rattles?”

“Well, actually it sounds like someone is trying to karaoke to Nirvana at full blast and throwing heavy shit around.”

Giggling, “Nirvana, really? What highly overrated drivel was it?

The coat rack next to Ty fell off the wall.

“Whoa”, Ty stepped aside staring. “Let’s see this attic.”

They crawled into the squeaky attic. Ty’s EMF detector remained silent.

A piercing bright light illuminated in the far corner of the attic. Jen and Ty covered their eyes. They shuffled toward the light around the junk in the attic. Something small on the corner rafter glowed. It was a box no larger than a cell phone, covered in dust. When Ty approached it a shock run through his body causing him to back off.

“I think this one’s for you, Jen.”

Jen walked up to the dusty box. Grabbed it. Tightly closed from the dust sealing it. Jen blew some of the dust off and aggressively worked the lid with her delicate hands. She peered inside, a locket momentarily glinted a deep crimson before returning to its natural silver color. She opened the locket, “It’s warm?” There were 2 photos in it. The first depicted a woman with long, dark hair, deep green eyes, a lacy black shirt with a choker around her neck, and a baby in her arms. On the other side was a guy with light brown hair, a goatee, and a dirty green hooded flannel.

“I’m not really sure what to do with this. There’s no way we’ll know who these people are,” she sighed.

“Try Googling your address.”

She typed into her iPhone as Ty leaned over her. Zillow showed she was paying $300 more than advertised. A coffee shop was opening soon next door.

“Wait, here’s something. Members of Switchlight Dead in Overdose, City in Heroin Crisis!” She scrolled through the article, the same photos were at the end. Three young guys from the second photo stared at her from the page. “That’s got to be him, in the middle.” Under his photo was the caption “Chris Taylor, vocalist.”

Ty got up, “Shit, what time is it? I’ve got to get to work, you going to be okay?”

“Yep.”

She looked up at the ceiling holding the locket, shaking her head. “I know how you died.”

Nothing.

Jen's nose twitched as she smelled the vinegar again. Chris appeared and reached out to her as if to grab her hands, track marks oozed along both of his arms.

Hesitantly he tried grabbing her hands, but of course, he couldn’t. Passing right through, frustrated he disappeared.

Jen twirled the locket between her fingers as she sat at her desk in the living room. Finally, she put the locket back in the box and started Googling: “Switchlight & Chris Taylor & dating” Only one entry came up, it wasn’t the girl in the photo.

The box remained on her desk, Chris sang his noise each night, disturbing her sleep. Jen learned to ignore it.

The new coffee shop opened two months later. Its opening line wound past her apartment. Hipsters from the neighborhood all chatted as they waited to try the latest authentic organic fair-trade coffee from small villages they couldn’t pronounce. Jen’s eye caught a woman standing in line that stood out. A woman around Jen’s age chatted with her. Jen stared at the older woman, recognition in her eyes.

Jen quickly grabbed her phone, leaving the apartment and approached the woman.

“Hi, I know this sounds weird, but have you ever heard of the band Switchlight?”

The woman’s eyes opened wide, “my boyfriend was in that band, years ago, why?”

Hesitantly, “Well, I found something in my house, I think he used to live there.“

“How did you know about Chris’s band?” the woman eyed her suspiciously.

“Well, um, I think he’s a ghost. Really into Nirvana, right?”

“Yeah, that’s him.” The woman didn’t seem disturbed at all.

“I’m Paula. This is my daughter, Amber. I stayed in the neighborhood after Chris passed away just to feel close to him. I could never get over losing him. No one else compared… do you think he’ll know who we are?”

Jen shrugged, “let’s find out,” and began leading them back to her place. Amber made no eye contact. She followed her mother, disinterested.

After entering her apartment Jen listened for the thumping sounds from the attic that greeted her every time she came home… nothing. Paula looked around, frowning.

“The place looks a lot different.”

Chris watched as they entered the apartment.

“Oh here, this is what we found.”

Paula opened the box and pulled out the locket. Tears welled in her eyes.

“This means so much to me. All I had were band photos.”

How could he forget her dark hair and those brilliant green eyes? So, old. He wanted to tease her about that. Next to her was a young woman with light brown hair. It was their Amber.

“I love you!” Chris shouted.

Nobody could hear him. Chris moved closer to them, but the air became thick and hazy. He could no longer see them. His body pulled painfully and he screamed, “no!”

“We’re going to head out. I am so thankful for this,” the woman held the locket tightly in her hand.

Jen watched them go. She sat at her desk. It was quiet. She smiled, put on her headphones, and blasted Nirvana.