Cozy Dark

           My fingers had been crossed that some sort of excuse would come up for not going. A broken car, a pounding head, anything to allow me to call them up and say “I just can’t make it.

           The interview began normal enough. I sat at a desk. Across from me sat a short, fat man with glasses that had such heavy rims they looked like he’d stolen them from a 3D movie. He kept wiping his nose with his hand, and then, as if that weren’t gross enough, pushing his glasses up with the same hand. On the desk sat a name plate that read Harrison Lett. He asked standard questions at first, but soon, things got weird.

            “Any relatives die recently?” he wiped his nose.

            “What?”

            “Relatives, family, any die within the last month or so?” he pushed up his glasses.

            “N- well, no but, I don’t see what-” he cut me off in such a confident manner like he’d gotten my response a lot.

            “How do you cope with death?” he wiped his nose.

            “How-” I stopped myself. Did I really want to ruin my chances for another job? I tried to think about the question but only ended up thinking of when my mom died. I was sixteen and I tried and tried to pretend it was no biggy. I tried and tried to tell myself that by crying I was being defeated and being beaten from the inside out. I cried anyways, I still don’t think I’ve come to copes with the idea that I’ll never talk to her again.

            “I sit and drink the night of the funeral. Then, I get up the next morning and move on,” I lied.

            “And your mother’s death: is that how you went about coping with that?” My heart jolted, the world tilted for a quick second and my chair slid with it. I was on the ground. The forced back tears of a sixteen year old me came rushing into my face, ready to burst. Then, everything went back to normal. I didn’t fall, or cry or move the world.

            “Yes,” I answered.      

            Next thing I know the guy is shaking my hand with his snot-coated hand and dragging me to a different room. The building looked like one huge moss covered brick from the outside. On the inside it was nothing but four offices, all like Harrison’s but with different names on the desks. But, if you walked far enough into the hallway you’d run into a bigger room with more desks, old looking computers with huge blocky monitors and no lights. The desks had candles, a couple per each desk, the only sources of light in the room.

            “I’m gonna go ahead and introduce you to the rest of the group. You got the job Jacob, relax.” I tried to but I remained tense. The dark, the ad, the way Harrison seemed to know my past before I said a thing, it felt uncomfortable, and it felt great. Next thing I knew the room seemed to get light as we approached a desk. The name plate said Stephen Roscoe.

            “This the new guy?” the presumed to be Stephen Roscoe sitting at the desk said. He had pictures up on the blocky monitor. Dark pictures where there seemed to be faces where faces couldn’t possibly be.

            “Yup. Jacob this is Roscoe. Expert on everything afterlife, ghouls, ghosts, spirits, whatever you wanna call it, he knows about it.”

            “Uh, hi,” I said reaching my hand out.

            “Sorry,” Roscoe smirked a bit as if I had done something worth laughing at, “I don’t shake hands with the living.” I looked at Harrison, puzzled but he seemed to be laughing to. Without an explanation we moved on. As we moved back into the darkness I heard a small shout. I looked at Harrison, again awaiting an explanation.

            “Oh,” Harrison suddenly turned towards me as if forgetting to tell me something, “I forgot you weren’t used to the screams yet. It’s the darkness, they can’t stand it. There aren’t much in here but the few that are can’t do much harm. They just hang around the desks.” I finally built up the courage to speak.

            “Who are they?”

            “Huh? You seemed more prepared in the interview. The ghosts Jacob, that’s why you’re here after all.” The conversation ended when we arrived at the next desk. A tall African American man leaned on it. He was smoking a large cigar that puffed bright smoke into the darkness.

            “This is Leonard Price, our… investigator,” Harrison explained.

            “Its’ Leo,” he said through a cloud of smoke, “and you Jacob have quite the past. Frankly, I figured you’d get the job. You and death oughta be good buddies by now, eh?” I prepared an answer, something rude, something to show this frighteningly tall man I wasn’t going to be the ‘new guy’. Instead, I was interrupted with a thick laugh that tore into the darkness with a huge cloud of smoke.

            “Harrison’s been giving the same tour for years now,” Leo said, his face wrinkling with a faint smile, “the same suddenly terrifying questions, and then, that one personal one at the end. Catch the new guy off guard and see how well he takes it. That’s my part; it’s my job to get that tiny piece of info. My real job is to look at death certificates, know what kinda ghost we’re up against. Did they drown? Were they hanged? Heh, I’m the guy who’ll tell you. Then, Harrison brings you to Roscoe. A scary guy, says he’s dead, says he’s a ghost.”

            “Is he?” I suddenly found myself blurting out.

            “No. He’s supposed to have died and then,” he snapped, a loud snap that rang like an alarm clock, “come back just like that. Died and lived to tell the tale,” he laughed again, blowing more smoke, “Then, for the finale, you get to me. Big, scary ole’ Leo who knows everything about you before you know what he looks like. To me that’s scarier than some of the ghosts we hunt.” I felt like Leo wasn’t done, and I know I wasn’t done with my questions, but Harrison shoved his way into the conversation.

            “The last desk is yours. You’ll start as soon as there’s a job to be done. But for now, you can leave.” And just like that I found myself leaving the darkness and, defying everything my past had taught me, I suddenly feared the light more than that cozy darkness of my new office.

            Then, I was here. In the car, in a similar darkness, but less comfortable. It was somewhere around two in the morning and Harrison had called me. Only a couple words made it clear why, “We’ve got a job.” He gave me an address and hung up. Now, I was on my way. I’d only slipped into the clothes I’d worn earlier that day, left on my slippers and began the drive. I arrived at the house, there was a car already there. When I got up I realized Leo was standing outside the house. He looked ridiculous with sunglasses on this early in the morning, his hair and beard scruffy looking like he’d just waken up and a huge smile on his face.

            “Jacob, you look surprised to see me,” Leo said through the smile.

            “Uh, yeah. I kinda thought Harrison would be here.”

            “Well, I’m offended Jacob,” he said as he began walking up to the door, I followed close behind, “You could see him hunting ghosts before me? Nah, I’ma be teaching you. Harry and Roscoe hunt too, but they’re not good for teaching newcomers like you.”

            “Why aren’t they good?” I asked as we reached the door. Leo took a gun from somewhere and turned sideways.

            “They’re too nice,” he said as he kicked the door down and pointed the gun around. “Clear,” he said as if checking for criminals. He turned to me, smile gone. His breath still smelled of cigar smoke.

            “Okay, we gotta go around and make sure all the lights are off, ignore any screams you might hear, if they’re in the dark they aren’t gonna do anything to you. If you do find a light, turn it off,” he explained it fast and handed me a gun. Then, he became the man I’d met again, he laughed, “Get ready,” he said walking away. Confused and still drowsy I began walking around. My eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness inside the house. I held the gun tight in my sweating hand. I could picture my beat white knuckles, and my red fingers gripping the gun as if it was trying to get away, as if-

a scream. I shot. It was right in my ear, I jumped and shot again. I still couldn’t see, I didn’t want to see anymore. The darkness became groggy as if I was standing in black jello. I couldn’t breathe. Was it a result of panic? No, hands, around my neck. I pulled away. Screaming, this time louder, this time not that of a human but that of a monster. That of my mom getting shot as I lay, quiet, in my bed. Then the room was lit and my eyes burned. Before I noticed Leo in the doorway to the room pointing a flashlight and a gun I saw the face in front of me. That of a little girl, screaming, coughing out blood, blood running down her dress. The hands around me were hers but the scream was not. She was screaming for help, she was being stabbed over and over. Her blood got on my shirt when she flew forward and fell to the ground, the result of Leo shooting. He then ran over to me, turning the flashlight off. The dark became comfortable again.

            “You alright Jacob?”

            “Yeah, uh, what was that?” I asked as I began to breathe again.

            “That Jacob was Penelope, died just last year. Stabbed to death.”

            “She was being stabbed when she was attacking me, her eyes, they were still the eyes of a little girl, they weren’t the eyes to the scream or the hands that strangled me…” I trailed off, wanting to just fall to the floor.

            “They appear the way they died. Note that I said appear, Jacob, not act. It’s the kids you gotta be careful of; they’re the ones who’ll make you feel like you’re the badguy.”

            “Are we?” I asked.

            Leo laughed.

            “Let’s go back to the office and report our success.”

The Fantastically Ridiculous Adventure of Sarcasm Sam: Part Six

Part five can be found here.

Dan looked around the roller coaster section. The rollercoasters were as run down as the stages and they ran with no one on them, much like the shows.
"Pie-eyes!” he shouted into the screaming of the rollercoasters. They sounded like they’d been running for years, like any minute they would just crumble around Dan leaving him surrounded by a steel graveyard.
 “Pie-eyes!” he shouted again. He could hear Sam shouting too, like an eerie echo that called just late enough to not sound like an echo. An echo with a body. That was all Sam was, he latched onto whatever Dan did and made the audience laugh at him. Dan told the jokes and then Sam stepped out and took all the credit. An echo with a body sounded just as terrifying as it actually was. And he thought he was misunderstood. That was something worth laughing at, Sam being misunderstood. Didn’t he see that the fact that everyone recognized him as misunderstood meant he wasn’t? No. He didn’t.
“Pie-eyes!” He could tell he would soon find himself back in the central tent again since he and Sam had realized that if you walked far enough you somehow ended up back there.
"Pie-eyes!” he shouted one last time before he turned around. Merry-Go-Round music distracted him from his thoughts about Sam and made him think about his first time here, The Point of No Return.

Back at the circus, before any of this had happened, before he had thrown that water balloon onto the ground of Sam’s tent, he sat in his own tent. No makeup. No afro. The man behind Delightful Dan. He had been thinking, similar thoughts as the ones he was having now, when he heard music and laughter. At the time he didn’t realize this laughter was coming from the hellish mirror maze he had now been through at least twice. Standing, he made his way toward the music. Soon, the laughter and music had seemed one, a song that, when put together, became more wonderful to Dan than either the music or laughter alone. A merry-go-round, the source of the music, was running in the dark with a large gutted clown and a pie tin faced clown on it. Pie-eyes and Silly Samantha.
“You!” Pie-eyes called out, “How would you like to help me with something?”
“With what?” Dan found himself asking rather than asking an expected who are you, what are you doing here, or simply telling the clown they were closed.
“I’ve kidnapped your friend here, not to mention several other clowns from here, to get the attention of a clown named Sam.” Dan now recognized the pie tin faced clown as Samantha.        “Unfortunately, none of these have gotten his attention. Should I kidnap you too?” All the while Pie-eyes voice continued to get louder and quieter as the ride continued to spin.
“No, he wouldn't care if you kidnapped me. But I might be able to help.” Pie-eyes got down from the merry-go-round and approached Dan, who now noticed his eyes. He was smiling and the purple makeup around his lips helped make it more apparent.
“Can you now?”
“Yeah. I’ll go get him. But, what happens when I bring him to you?” Pie-eyes laughed.
“That’s the surprise.”
“Okay then. I’ll do it,” Dan said. He wondered if Samantha could hear him from the spinning merry-go-round Pie-eyes had left her on.
“Good then. Come with me and I’ll explain a little more,” Pie-eyes said handing Dan a water balloon. “You’ll need this. Don’t break it.” Dan took it carefully. He was in the midst of a mad man, and he loved it. The feeling that someone needed him.

Dan found himself back in the central tent. He realized, coming out of his thoughts, that his bodiless echo had been silenced. He moved toward the freaks section to find out why.

The Fantasically Ridiculous Adventure of Sarcasm Sam: Part Five

Part four can be found here.

Smells of popcorn, cotton candy and sweat bombarded me and Dan as we stood on the now empty stage. The laughing had resumed, and I could still here the crunching of the muddy ground as the purple suited man walked away. Despite these smells and sounds everything seemed on pause, yet not on pause as Dan and I looked at each other.
“Why did you step out of his way?” Dan looked down at his oversized shoes like a sad dog. I wondered if this was an act or real disappointment with himself. Did he really care? It was too big of a question to answer based only off of one sad dog face.         
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we can’t just stand around when our friends are in trouble,” Dan mumbled, eyes still aimed at his shoes. Even with his eyes aimed at shoes and the mumbling the message came out how he wanted it to, a message that was meant to sting, turn the tables and say that since I was still standing here talking it was my fault that Samantha was being pulled by her hair to wherever it was Pie-eyes was taking her. I knew that was what he wanted, but the message stung anyway.
“Okay then, let’s go.”

We started by going the way Pie-eyes had gone but ended up back at the central tent with the now empty desk in the middle.
“Where could he have gone?” I asked Dan, looking from the mirror maze section to the clown section we’d just entered.
“We can try the rollercoaster area, or the freaks area, those are the only places we haven’t been.”
“Why not split up, I’ll go to the freaks, you go to the rollercoasters,” I suggested.
“Okay… what do we do if we find him?” I stopped and thought about this. Yell for the other? Even then, what would the two of us do?
“We save Samantha,” I decided. This was apparently good enough for Dan because he began walking toward the rollercoasters section. I turned my back to him and looked at the entrance to the freak area, then, I began walking.

This area was similar to the clowns area, with a similarly dirty stage, the muddy grass that covered the entire place, and the crowds of performers moving about the place. These crowds, however, were made up of bearded women, legless people pulling themselves with their hands, abnormally tall people, and all kinds of other people who had been labeled as freaks. Not knowing where to look I shouted as I moved through the crowds attracting glances from the people I felt I should have been glancing at. Finally, after one of the shouts, Pie-eyes stepped out from behind the curtain with Samantha still at his side. He was smiling and the pie filling bounced in his sockets. Samantha’s screaming had gotten louder, more desperate.
“Show time,” he whispered to himself.   

The Fantastically Ridiculous Adventure of Sarcasm Sam: Part Four

Part three can be found here.

I found that despite my feet’s objection I was carried toward the stage. Silly Samantha was shouting something under the pie tin, but it was muffled and inaudible. Pie-eyes turned to look at me, his smile fading.
 “You aren’t on yet…” he mumbled quietly.
“I know,” I said, suddenly having no idea what I was going to do. I could tell Silly Samantha could recognize my voice because the voice from the pie tin grew louder.
“Then get off the stage,” Pie-eyes said. It was no longer a mumble, but a command and he pointed ominously toward the curtain.
 “No.” With that Pie-eyes shouted something angrily and spun on his heels away from me. Pie filling fell on the stage. He grabbed Silly Samantha’s orange hair and dragged her back to the curtain. I saw Dan step out of the way for him when suddenly a small fist connected with my jaw and I found myself stumbling backwards. It was the purple suited man who greeted us, he may have been tiny but he was strong. I imagined what this would have looked like to the audience, this sad clown being pummeled by this short man, but then remembered there was no audience.
 “I been wanting to do this since you and your friend got here,” the man said as his fist came flying and this time hit my chin. My teeth made a loud clicking sound as they interlocked harshly.
“What do you mean?” I heard Dan step out from the curtain. Dan, the clown who had brought me here to save our friends and who I’d just witnessed step out of the way for a clown-dressed mad man.
 “I’m supposed to be Pie-eyes partner in this, not some pitiful clown.” He gestured toward me. I tried to stand while he and Dan argued.
“Why would you be his partner? You aren’t misunderstood like him and Sam.” The purple suited man laughed and threw his hands into the air. His mustache bounced on his face in a way that would have been comical if it hadn’t been in this situation.
“You think I’m not misunderstood? Do you see me? All your friend has to do is take off his makeup and he’s not “misunderstood” anymore! I can’t take off these stubs of legs! I can’t take off these tiny hands! I came to the circus to be the strong man and instead they wanna shoot me outta cannons because I’m “just the right size”, and you think I’m not misunderstood!” The stage grew quiet, even the echoing laughter seemed to cease for this moment. It felt like a play, the way Dan, the man, and I were standing in a triangle on stage. It felt like none of this was real and someone would shout that it was a rap and I could go back to my tent.
“You could help us,” I told the man. He laughed and walked off of the stage leaving Dan and I to stare at each other.

Click here to continue to part five.

The Fantistically Ridiculous Adventure of Sarcasm Sam: Part Three

Part two can be found here.

Dan and I sat in a tent that we got to from the “Clowns” section of Pie-eye’s tent. There was still laughing coming from somewhere, but I had yet to find out from where. I thought maybe the reflections in the mirror maze were laughing loud enough for it to echo throughout this entire place.
“I want to know what’s going on Dan. You know more than you’re letting on,” I suddenly said absent mindedly. After how the encounter with Pie-eyes had gone on I was getting more worried with what I’d gotten myself into. But, being in the point of no return I figured it was no hope trying to get out of it. After managing to croak my name to answer Pie-eyes question he laughed. His entire body moved when he laughed, not just his huge gut, and pie filling dripped from his eye socket to the muddy ground. Then, once finished laughing at my name, he told Dan to escort me to this tent.
“It’s a circus Sam. Put on a good show and you won’t get fired,” Dan responded, suddenly standing.
“Listen Dan, I don’t know what you expect me to do without knowing anything about this place.” Dan sighed heavily and scratched at his head under the red afro wig.
“Pie-eyes is a clown like you Sam… -er, he used to be at least. His entire point as a clown was to have pies thrown at him.”
“Well, you don’t have very many options when your stage names Pie-eyes,” I said. Dan snickered a little but remained serious.
“Well. He got fed up with it. His pain was laughed at Sam. So, he figured people would think it was hilarious to make a circus made up entirely of pain.” I waited for him to say something else, but he stopped. I had no clue what to say.
“Why are we here?”
“He thinks you need saving from us Sam. He’s sees himself in you. He wants you to help him.” I didn’t know how to respond to the weirdest job offer I’d ever gotten. Everything felt off, crooked, cracked. Suddenly the curly mustached man who’d greeted us stepped into the gate with a big smile on his face.
“Show time,” he cooed at us.

The stage was dirty and old. The chairs were few, but all empty. The atmosphere of the entire place was unbearable. From here I knew I could hear the maniacal laughing and could see rollercoasters running vigorously on the horizon. Pie-eyes stood at the end of the stage, shouting things as if there were an audience. I imagined pushing him off, wondered what kind of damage it’d do, how long it’d take him to stand again. 
“And now,” he yelled generically, “we introduce our newest act, Pie tin Penelope!” Applause came from somewhere, probably the other people preparing for the show. Pie tin Penelope stepped out, a woman with crazy orange hair sticking out in every possible direction, and a Pie tin with a smile drawn in a thick red marker stuck on her face. I immediately realized who the face under the tin belonged to. Silly Samantha was Pie tin Penelope.

Click here to continue to part four.

The Fantastically Ridiculous Adventure of Sarcasm Sam: Part Two

Part one can be found here.

A large gate was the entrance, one that curved into elaborate laughing faces. I wouldn’t have minded the faces if they had looked human. And while they were human the laughing had twisted them to a point of no return. This is exactly what the sign over the gate read: “The Point of No Return” in curly, colorful letters. From behind the gate came laughing, shouting, excitement. 

“Where are we?” I asked Dan, who was still standing and adjusting his wig from our fall into this place.

“I know you can read Sam. There’s a sign right there,” he pointed up at it.

“Oh, of course, the point of no return. I’ve been here many times; I understand perfectly what’s going on.”

“I see why you’re Sarcasm Sam,” Dan rolled his eyes, walking toward the gate.

“I have yet to see what makes you Delightful though.” As we approached the gate I realized the short man standing next to it. He had a mustache that curled, and short hands that looked like those of a baby. He wore a purple jacket and baggy purple pants.

“Come one, come all,” he said. But the way he had said it made it clear he would rather be leaving than coming. Dan suddenly lit up and hopped toward the man, as clown-like that movement could’ve ever been.

“I’m Delightful Dan, this is the other clown I was telling you about,” he said, gesturing toward me.

“Go on in,” the small man said pointing toward what was inside the gate. I followed Dan into what slowly became a mirror maze. But the reflections on the mirrors were not mine. And these reflections, that didn’t belong to me or Dan, were pounding on the glass, screaming, and loudest of all, laughing uncontrollably. The entire maze shook with the pounding of a thousand different reflections without bodies.

“Wh- what is this?”

“Mirror maze,” Dan answered nonchalantly. He walked through the maze like he knew the way and didn’t pay any attention to the reflections. I tried to stay away from the mirrors that weren’t regular mirrors. Finally, we reached the exit, which led to a small tent. The tent split into four parts. The way we had come from was the mirror maze. Then, there was one way labelled “Rollercoasters”, one labelled “Clowns” and one labelled “Freaks”. In the middle of the tent sat a desk with a large man sitting at it. He was not smiling, but the purple makeup around his lips made him appear to be. He had a purple nose rather than the classic red one.

Too much purple, I thought.

“Dan,” the clown said, standing and then taking Dan’s hand and shaking vigorously. It buzzed loudly with a joy buzzer, but nobody said anything about it.

“Pie-eyes,” Dan responded.

“Pie-eyes?” I asked suddenly. The purple clown turned towards me and I finally noticed that his eye sockets were filled with cream pie filling instead of eyes.

“And you are?”

Click here to continue to part three.        

The Fantastically Ridiculous Adventure of Sarcasm Sam

I laughed at the very idea of Sarcasm Sam and Delightful Dan ever being friends. But offstage, we clowns are people like any other, so, Sarcasm Sam and Delightful Dan were very much so friends. This is why it struck me as odd when Delightful Dan showed up outside the green tent, with his red smile painted on, sporting the red afro, red and blue spotted shoes, fluffy red collar, and the unforgettable shining red nose.

“Dan?” I asked the clown.

“Sam,” he responded, nodding his head and pushing past me into the tent. I noticed him holding a sword in one hand and a water balloon in the other. Clowns were nothing without their props.

“What’s this all about?” I tried to get some information out of him, but instead just got silence as he pulled my own costume out from the back of my tent. It was weird to be talking to Delightful Dan without the Sarcasm Sam costume on. We were a team of clowns, incomplete without the other. Delightful Dan would tell jokes, make all the kids laugh. Then Sarcasm Sam would walk out and sarcastically tell Dan his jokes were good. Kids booed Sam. Then, Dan would throw pies at me, chase me around while I tripped over things, and tons more. People loved the team. People would’ve hated us on our own. Dan threw the costume at me.

“Here. Put this stuff on,” he said as he tossed it. Despite not knowing what was going on I began slipping into the costume. Sarcasm Sam had a fluffy green collar as opposed to Dan’s red, no signature clown nose and green shoes. His face paint involved a green frown instead of Dan’s red smile, and green circles around his eyes. Mean, old Sarcasm Sam. As I slipped into the costume I tried again to get information out of Dan.

“Okay Dan, I’m putting the costume on. Now what’s this all about?”

“The whole families in danger Sam. Lord Tickle Pickles, Huge Henrietta, Silly Samantha, all of them,” Dan explained as I began to apply the face make-up. I cared about all of my fellow clowns, but Silly Samantha was the one that truly worried me. As myself I had spoken about twice with her, but as Sarcasm Sam she was my girlfriend who always stuck up for me when Dan and I fought.

“How are they in danger?” I asked, carefully circling my eyes with the green makeup. As soon as I finished asking Delightful Dan threw down the water balloon and a swirling blue portal of water open in the ground. Laughter poured out of it.

“They’re in there Sam. But after this, there’s no turning back.”

“Let’s go,” I said, reaching out for Dan to throw me the sword. Once I caught it I realized it was rubber. With that, Sarcasm Sam and Delightful Dan hopped into the portal and began their journey to save their family.

Click here to continue to part two.

Doorbell

The doorbell screamed at me louder than the "Trick-or-Treaters" did. I sat up in my bed and ran my hands through my hair. I felt like screaming. I felt like explaining to the kids who rang by doorbell that when my lights are off it means I'm not going to give them anything. Instead, I stood from my bed and decided I needed another drink. After I got to my kitchen and poured the drink I looked out the window and saw the scarecrow, zombie and clown standing on my porch still. They smiled. They thought nothing of it that I was trying to sleep. Trying to pretend Halloween didn't exist meaning that the grown-man dressed as the devil never broke into his home as a child and never killed his parents when they opened the door to give him some candy. I quickly shut the curtain I was peeking from and stomped back to my bedroom, turning of thee lights as I went. Halfway down the hallway leading back to my bedroom the doorbell rang again. Not even thinking I spun around and threw my full glass as hard as I could. It hit the wall and shattered, muffling the voice of someone standing in the hallway.
"Trick or treat."
I didn't care what or who said it, I ran at them and tackled them. Once on top of them I punched and punched until I could feel crunching under my fist. I finally pulled away and saw what I was punching. The boys zombie makeup looked much more realistic than it had out on the porch now that he was bleeding, and his eyes were swelled to the point that I don't think he could see. I stood and looked down at the hardly breathing body. Tears fell onto it. How had he even gotten in? It didn't matter, it didn't even matter if he had broken in now that I had done this. I didn't want to look at it. I began walking quickly back into my room. I told myself that didn't happen. It was memories of that one Halloween and beer working together to make this hallucination. I would go to bed, wake up in the morning and-
and then something was behind me. Walking, now running, towards me. I turned again to see the skeleton boy running at me.
"You've become what you fear! You're the man in the devil mask! You killed your parents!" he screamed. How did he know that? It didn't matter, he saw me kill his friend, this was real, he had seen what I did and now it needed to happen to him to. The kid reached me and pounced his skeleton mask partially crooked on his face. I took a nearby lamp, pulled it from the wall and swung like a bat at the skeleton. By unplugging the lamp I eliminated the last source of light in the hallway, making it so that the kid appeared to be nothing but a skeleton. This was no kid. This was a skeleton, just as that killer had been the devil. My swing was powerful enough to send him flying into a wall, but he had a good grip on my collar and I went flying with him. My head hit the wall and the kid was punching me with tiny fists. I took the lamp I still held and swung again. This time something broke. I hoped it was not my lamp, I hoped it was the kid. I hoped it was his skeleton bones snapping. Before I could know what the snap was the clown kid had his scarf pulled tight around my neck. I fell back but the clown kept pulling. I tried to hit him with the lamp but couldn't. As the home became darker, I remembered...

My parents passed out candy every year. They loved the smile on kids faces when the candy was dropped into their awaiting pillowcases. They loved those smiles more than me. And I knew it too. It was obvious. I despised them for it, for ignoring me while they gave to other parents children. Why did they not give me candy? Why did they not love my smile? So finally, my first year out of their home, I bought the devil mask. I knew they would despise it, being devout Christians. I would go to their home, wearing the mask and they would hate me. They wouldn't want a smile or to give me candy. Best of all they would ever know it was me, they'd think they hated some kid more than me.
I went to their door and opened my pillow sack.
"Trick or Treat," I called to my old mom who I hadn't seen in years. She did smile. She held out a handful of candy and told me to hold my pillowcase under it. I obeyed.
"Here you are," she said dropping the handful in. She didn't scowl. She didn't say anything about the devil was not a good costume. She just smiled and gave candy to me. She loved the devil more than me. So, reaching for my Swiss army knife I decided I would give her someone to hate for as long as she lived. Pushing her out of the doorway I removed the knife and...

I looked where three dead, costumed kids sat in my hallway. How'd they get there? Was I truly the devil I feared I had become?
No, I thought, the devil doesn't need a mask. And with that I removed it and prepared to hide the bodies.

The Delivery Man

“It’s a scam. Don’t click it.”

“But what if it’s not? Imagine what I’d be missing out on…”

“I’ll tell you what you’d be missing out on: a virus in your computer, that’s what.”

“I don’t care about this old computer; I’ve been meaning to get a new one anyway.”

“And… great. You’ve clicked it and now have a virus in your computer. Good work…”

The lights go off.


“Umm… what just happened?”

“I have no idea, power outage? It is storming.”

“No, not the power. Look.”

“That ads still running…”

“Yeah, I know. It says…”

“Congrats! You’ve won the three million!”

“Who just said that? Did it come from your speakers?”

 “No. My speakers are off.”

“Well then-”

“Here you are.”

Hundreds of bills suddenly fall into his hands, released by a cold hand.

“Who is that?”

“Delivery Man. Delivering your three million sir.”

The lights return.


“What was that?”

“I have no idea. Is this a joke or something?”

“I didn’t do it. Who was that third guy?”

“No idea. That was weird.”

“Wait, is that real money?”

“Yeah, I think so…”

“This is actually three million dollars! Where did this come from?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but let’s spend it-”

The computer beeps loudly before they can leave.

“What was that?”

“The computer.”

“What’s it say?”

“The Delivery Man will be back later for his payment…”

“His payment?”

“I don’t know dude… let’s just go, we have three million dollars!”

The two men leave the room, never noticing the eyeless creature sitting behind them the whole time, wearing a blue uniform with a name tag: The Delivery Man.

Therianthropy II

Click here if you haven't read Therianthropy I


Suddenly, banging. My eyes opened as if I was never asleep. My heart dropped into my chest, my breath was gone. Another bang. I could hear more teachers waking up. Another bang, this time followed by growling. A teacher behind me sat straight up and gasped so loud that afterwards everything became silent. No one breathed. No one banged. No one growled. I felt a tear drip down my face.
"They're in there. I hear them," a whisper screamed at us from above the trapdoor. The complete silence returned immediately once the whisper was finished. There was a human up there, not a wolf. But suddenly, another growl. Was there a wolf? Suddenly I heard loud sobbing on my right.
"Yup. That's them." At this the trap door slammed and a kid jumped down, followed by two wolves. There was screaming, blood flew from the wolves. All of the teachers began running to one side of the bomb shelter. I ran with them. Laughing and growling and screaming bombarded me. The human kid stood and watched as the wolves tore apart some of the other teachers, laughing maniacally.
Once the wolves finished their current meals they began making their way to the back of the bomb shelter where the rest of the teachers were screaming. The human kid finally didn't see the humor in the wolves killing us teachers one by one and began working his way back up the ladder.
"Adios," he said calmly, shutting the trap door on his way out. The wolves pounced on another kid when suddenly two bright flashes blinded me and a loud boom made a loud ringing block any other sounds. Both wolves fell suddenly (or at least, two brown and gray blobs fell, that I assumed were wolves). I stood for a minute until my vision cleared and the ringing ended. Teachers were still screaming. I pushed through the crowd of teachers to find not two dead wolves, but two dead students. Laying on the dirty concrete floor of the bomb shelter were two students, one of which I recognized as Sarah Evans. A straight A student who had always known the answers, always been good. And now she was lying before me with a bullet hole in her chest, blood pouring from her and being coughed from deep in her throat. Again I cried. Once I found myself turned away from Sarah I realized the other teachers were confused.
"Where'd the gun come from?" someone asked.
"The student dropped it."
"The student had a gun?" with this the murmuring got louder and became full fledged panicked screaming.
"How'd he get a gun?"
"Do they all have guns?"
"Maybe we should just give up-"
But I stepped up and interrupted the panic.
"We were able to take two of them weren't we?" I asked the other teachers as they grew silent, "Who says we can't take more? Maybe there are more of them that are just humans, unarmed. Maybe we have to go on a little hunting trip and take out some wolves. Or maybe this is the war we feared and they all have guns, and some of us will die. But the point is that they can't take us all. Not if we're together. So who says we go up there and fight, rather than hide here like cowards?" I asked. Voices soon began saying "Me", or "I" and together those would be "us". We were all going up there. We planned it out, gave a certain person the one gun we had and began our way up. I was the last to go up. As I planted my hand onto one rung of the ladder I looked back at Sarah, now dead. I remembered the wolves eyes when I first saw them. The eyes of kids, innocent kids who'd never kill a teacher. Who'd never wield a gun. Then again, I never took myself to be much of a leader. I began the climb to the battleground.

Therianthropy

This wasn't the first time he'd been caught cutting class. In fact, most teachers had to keep an eye on him all the time, for a long time he could only use the bathroom during lunch and had to be back within a certain amount of time. So I wasn't surprised when I heard snickering coming from the bathroom.
"I know you're in there," I shouted into the stall, "Get out here!" The snickering stopped for a minute and then I could hear what sounded like an attempt to breath quietly. Suddenly another teacher entered.
"What's going on here?" I just pointed to the bathroom door and the other teacher understood, but he looked surprised.
"I have someone in here too. He asked to go at the beginning of class and hasn't been back yet." When I still didn't get a result I pounded on one of the stall doors. Something pounded back. The other teacher looked at me and rolled his eyes like so many students had. I know for a fact he would've yelled at a student for doing that, but I just ignored it. Just then the door flew open and a brown blur knocked me against the tiled bathroom wall. I squinted my eyes and clenched my teeth, seeing only the brown blur jump at the other teacher next. Once I was able to stand I looked at the other teacher. Blood was everywhere. He was dead, he had to be. I couldn't believe it, what was going on? What had that kid done? I walked over to the stall. There was the other kid that had been cutting class, also bleeding, his shirt off.
"What's going on?" I asked. He only writhed on the ground and groaned, holding his arm where there was what seemed to be a bite mark. Then, screaming cam from another room. I heard growling. I rushed in to see what was going on. Another dead teacher and this time I could see the brown blur clearly. It was a wolf, and there was more than one. Some kids were mid transformation. They were different colors, and their eyes were still the eyes of the simple kids that sat in class and answered questions, or the kids that cut class, the kids that I'd see walking through the hallways laughing and joking with the others. But their faces had long snouts, some covered in blood and some ready to be covered. One pounced at me and I went running down the hall. A wolf jumped from the bathroom, presumably the kid who I'd seen with the bite, now transformed. He knocked me into a locker and for a second my vision went blurry. All that existed were me and blood caked claws that just thrashed and thrashed at me. Then the world came back as that wolf began chasing other teachers through the hallways. Wolves poured from every classroom. Suddenly a voice was calling for me quietly. I turned towards where there was a trap door leading to an unused bomb shelter under the school from when it was first built. It was open the tiniest bit so the voice could travel to me. I crawled and ducked under wolves until I was at the trap door. It raised for a split second as I was yanked down into it, ruling the ladder useless. I looked around at several other teachers and some staff members I didn't even know.
"The wolves can't open this trap door," one teacher explained, "we'll be safe."
"What if they turn back into humans?" another teacher asked through tears.
"Then it's war."


Click here to read Therianthropy II

A Fine Bogey Tale

When you see something move out of the corner of your eye? Probably his tail slithering behind him back into shadow. When you hear wind roaring at night but see no wind? Probably his wings pulling him higher into the sky. When you think you hear movement outside of your room at night but find nothing? It’s not easy for him to maneuver himself with four clawed arms and four clawed feet. He roams near my home but he sometimes goes other places. He hides, he steals and he’s always there. What is he? Just another man like you.

He held the vile in his hand. He prepared to try my first attempt to try and make a serum that stopped my evil urges. He also had similar urges. We were both bad people on the inside and, oh though we didn’t know it yet, my potions would bring our evil out. But his evil was much darker, much more evil if there is such a thing. He sipped it. He could feel himself changing. He could feel his extra arms growing out of him, his new wings bursting through the skin of his back. Blood was running down his face from his new sprouting horns, he couldn’t see anything; he could smell only the copper smell of the blood and could taste only that copper taste. He grinned new, pointed teeth.

I awoke to my partner, who I had just seen changed in a dream, shaking me and staring at me. I had apparently been screaming and crying out for help. He thought I was having a nightmare.
“No, not a nightmare,” I explained, “I was picturing the first transformation.”
“Good or bad?” he asked, smiling hopefully.
“Good,” I lied.

Now it was happening for real. Just the same as in my dream. The red, grinning, sharp-toothed face of my assistant changed. I didn’t scream, I wasn’t surprised. My potion had failed, it had done the opposite. It had brought the evil out of him to a point I hadn’t thought possible. He looked at me.
“It’s so good. Drink it,” he held the vile out in between his claws. As the blood everywhere on his body began to dry he looked black as night. What was I to do when I felt as if the devil himself was commanding me to drink it? I took it from him and gulped it down. I changed, but not as much. I shrunk, became hunched over, I wasn’t me anymore. Once I was finished he looked at me, still grinning. “Good or bad?”
“Good,” I answered in my new form. I was no longer Dr. Jekyll. I was now Mr. Hyde, free to carry out all I ever dreamed of. I felt younger; I felt more of a man. And my assistant? The window was open and he was gone. He felt the same and he already decided to carry out those evil dreams. He was just another man like you.

Just Playing Around

Eleven people entered. Me, my wife and both kids, a blind man with a rather large and terrifying seeing-eye dog, a creepy, lonely man wearing shorts, despite the cold weather, three teenagers (two girls and a boy holding tons of shopping bags), an old man leaned over a walker to the point that his chin touched it and a man with a hat, a Hawaiian shirt and a huge camera dangling from his neck: a stereotypical tourist. We all entered one of the two elevators in the hotel. As we entered I tried to keep my family together, the creepy guy made me nervous.
"What floors?" the tourist asked, readying his hands for the buttons.
"Four!" screamed the teenagers. I looked back at them, jumping up and down, trying to shake the elevator. I rolled my eyes and made sure my own kids weren't laughing or jumping along with them. Once everyone had muttered a number the elevator began moving. 1... 2... almost done with these teenagers... 3... we passed the third when suddenly we were jerked to a stop. One of the teenagers hit their head from jumping and I couldn't help but snicker. Anyway, the other two teens thought it was hilarious. The tourist turned, somehow managing to smile and look worried at the same time.
"We seem to have stopped..." he mumbled, concerned. The blind man fidgeted and groaned. The teenagers continued laughing at their friend. My wife clung to my shoulder and my kids to my pant leg. The walker man straightened himself.
"So're we gonna sit here or are we gonna get some help," the walker man grumbled, "One of you gotta have a cell phone." I had left mine in the room and my wife's was out of battery. The teens weren't even listening and the blind man made no response.
"I've got mine!" the tourist pulled out some smart phone and began dialing some number when the elevator jerked a little causing the phone to fly out of his hand. The screen cracked and the phone shut down. It had broke.
"Great..." the creepy man said, "that's just great." The teens continued jumping, despite the situation and I finally cracked.
"Can you please stop?!" I turned and screamed. My kids jumped at my shouting. The teenage boy turned towards me, then the two girls did.
"Ay man, we're just playin' around," he said and launched his hands above his head. Suddenly the elevator flew up with his hands. The girls started laughing louder. The walker man fell and the blind man stumbled. The tourist had to put his hand out for balance.
"Wait, what was that-" the creep was interrupted when the boy launched his hands downwards and the elevator moved too. Now more of us fell. The doors opened near the top of the elevator when the boy pulled his hands apart. The teens climbed out, giggling, as the rest of us regained our balance. I jumped up and grabbed onto the floor above us when the boy put his hands back together and the door closed on my fingers. I fell to the ground, screaming. Everyone gathered around me.
"What was that?" the creepy guy asked again.
"I have no clue," someone answered. I just writhed worm-like on the ground, cradling my missing fingertips.

Remember Us

The next morning James found the letter.

"Dear James,
Sorry I wasn't able to get to you sooner. The other night was rough, as you know. But anyway, before I "get to business" I think I'll remind you just how rough that night was. You went out with some friends and (as usual) didn't come back until it was late. I sat here, waiting, knowing your show was on that night but not able to turn it on myself. Of course the show went over and you never came home. Remember when we used to spend time together? Before money and jobs and life became a problem. When Saturday mornings were spent sitting with me, watching cartoons and you'd sometimes spill your cereal and not even worry about it. You wouldn't even worry about it because I didn't mind the cereal James. You didn't worry about it because we used to be friends. But now, now you never come home, you never sit with me anymore James. When you finally came home last night things were different though, you suddenly were happy (tipsy, but happy, none the less). And I think I know why. That was the night you robbed a bank James, you and your friends decided money didn't have to be a problem anymore, you'd rob a bank. Well James, that's where this gets interesting... Do you remember where you hid the money James?"

James set the letter down and held his hand to his head, hoping he could calm the dull ache. What was going on? Was this a dream? He picked the letter back up and continued reading.

"Do you remember James? You hid it under my cushion. I have it now."

James looked around the room. Cushion? Who had written this?

"So James, I think if you want this money we're gonna be happy again James. Not just you, or just your friends James, us. Come sit with me James, come watch some cartoons and..."

James threw the letter down and looked around the room again. H wasn't sure if he should be screaming or laughing. Was he dreaming? Was he insane? He began remembering bits and pieces of the night before and quickly ran over to where he had hidden the money. As he approached his favorite chair he lifted the cushion. Sure enough, the money was there. He reached for it but the cushion suddenly fell hard on his hand. The once soft cushion became teeth sinking into his arm. He screamed.
"Let's watch cartoons again James."