Deadly Infection

(Note to Readers:  Part of Deadly Infection was posted earlier as Zombie Island.  I’ve added more to the story, and renamed it Deadly Infection.  I hope you enjoy!)

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The infectious thing hid in the shadows and watched as fresh meat disembarked the yacht.  It had been weeks since the last shipment, so the creature could barely contain the blood lust raging within its decomposing body.

It growled and pulled against the chains holding him in place.  Its brain could no longer reason.  It only understood his ravenous need for human flesh.  The drive was constant, even after it had feasted, it still hungered. It was never fully satisfied.

It lunged its body again and reached a skeletal hand toward leaves, wafting in the warm tropical breeze.  Only a lone finger-bone escaped the cover of foliage.

If the “fresh meat” had looked in its direction, at that precise moment, they would have seen the bony finger with its sagging, putrid skin. Perhaps it would have been their salvation, or perhaps not… as the trees were quite some distance from the yacht.

Four teenagers laughed as they balanced the plank resting upon a weathered pier.  It wasn’t as stable as Kimmie would have liked, so she held tightly to Ted’s hand.  Ted, sensing her fright, gallantly turned his body to welcome his girlfriend safely into his arms. Kimmie, much smaller than Ted’s athletic frame, felt engulfed within his embrace and she liked the feeling.

Carol, quite the opposite of Kimmie, jumped from the rickety plank and practically landed on Kimmie and Ted.  All three fell together to land in a heap upon the graying boards.  The wood was old and so the pier quaked beneath their sudden movement.

A raucous laughter emanated from the heap, while Mark stood alone on the plank, holding all four backpacks.   Mark, feeling excluded, couldn’t help but wish, Carol, to be more like Kimmie.  What he would give to have her fall into his arms…

Like that would ever happen… thought Mark angrily.

Carol, boisterously called to him, “Hey pretty boy…get down here, already!”

Mark, shrugged off his anger, slowly smiled, and headed toward the laughing heap.

Offering, his hand to Carol, he winked and said, “Yes, I “am” a pretty boy…and don’t you forget it!”

Carol, ignored his hand, jumped up on her own accord and replied, “I’m not arguing the point. Practically every gooey-eyed cheerleader wants you, and from what I’ve heard through the grape-vine, even a couple of the football jocks, as well.”

Ted helped Kimmie to her feet and added to the conversation, “As quarterback of the football team, I can vouch for that!” And then laughed hysterically

Kimmie nudged Ted in the ribs and whispered, “Hey, that’s not nice!”

“Aw come on, sweetheart…we’re just messing with his head.  Isn’t that right Carol?”

Carol, nonchalantly studied the apple she had just pulled from her pack, took a bite and said with her mouth full, “Nope…meant every word.”

Ted laughed so hard he snorted.  Once again Kimmie nudged him but she couldn’t keep herself from smiling.  A red-faced Mark, saw her smile and turned a deeper shade of red. Unable to the think of anything clever, Mark said, “Very funny…HA..HA…”  He turned and walked toward the island.

The four teenagers unloaded their packs and when they had finished, beach towels, sunscreen, chips and beer littered the white sandy beach.   They settled upon their perspective towels and began to chatter among themselves.

***

The captain of the Shelly Anne watched the teenagers find their places in the sand.  With a shaky hand he reached for the shift-throttle and began backing his boat.

The deal had always been to wait at least an hour before leaving.  Nervously, he glanced at his watch.  It had only been thirty-five minutes but the captain decided he would wait no longer.

“What the hell, can he do…he’s already paid me for the year…” he muttered under bearded lips.  The sooner he could leave the island the better he would feel, and this had always been the case since day one.  He thought back to that day and remembered the creepy little doctor who had handed him the money.  As he tucked the cash into his jean’s pocket, he heard a faint noise that sounded like a growl.   Startled, the captain looked at the doctor who was grinning back.

“The children are hungry, ” he had said.

After that, the captain had gotten the hell outta there.

Seeing the disappearing island in his rear view mirror, the captain ran a clammy hand through  wind tossed hair and mumbled nervously  “Damn crazy son-of-a-bitch…”

***

Dr Stevens pushed wire-rim glasses up a sweaty nose.  Peering through the leaves he counted a total of four.  Judging from their proximity, he hypothesized the location the four would try to enter the thicket.  He’d been doing this for a long time, so he was rarely wrong.  The undergrowth at this particular part of the island was thick with Deer Grass and Banat Trees, making it hard to penetrate.  And so he had found breaking a limb or two here, and patting down the grass there, lured the prey into his direction, quite well.

Wanting a clearer look, Dr Stevens slid the wire rimmed glasses atop his head, removed a pair of binoculars from a vest pocket, and positioned them snugly against soul-less eyes. He saw a rather athletic looking male carrying a screaming female towards the water’s edge.  The bikini clad female had her arms around the males neck with her face pressed into his shoulders, causing her blonde hair to cascade down his back.  The female kept screaming but the big guy laughed and kept jogging until they both splashed into surf, and disappeared under the wave making its way to the beach.

Dr. Stevens moved his binoculars slightly to the right in order to see the other two. The scene he surveyed was much somber.  There was a male, not as large as the other, but a nice build, sitting on his ass, knees bent, toes in the sand.  Sucking on a beer, the guy looked as if he were sulking.  The other female was stretched out, her belly against a beach towel and her nose tucked into the open pages of a book.  She was also wearing a bikini but her dark hair was cut boyishly short, almost GI Jane style.  Dr Stevens, almost chuckled at the comparison. He whispered, “Hmm…she will be the one to watch.”  He focused the binoculars for a clearer view and saw that “GI Jane” had a nose ring and a dragon-fly tattoo displayed upon her back.  At the sight, an unexpected laugh escaped his gaping mouth.  “It was perfect…just perfect,” he thought, “…you may be tough, GI-Jane, but not tough enough to handle what the children have in store for you.”

***

Carol was sick of Mark’s googly eyes upon her.  Thank god, she brought the book.  At that moment she realized the book was upside down and quickly righted it, hoping it went unnoticed.  “Pf-ff… so what if he did…” she thought; “maybe he’d finally take the hint.”

However, Carol had long given up on that.  He was clueless.  Hell, she wouldn’t have come if she’d known he was coming.  At first, Carol had been excited about an afternoon trip to a “deserted” island.  It would be nice to get away with her BFF, but said BFF informed her at the last-minute that the “guys” would be coming as well.  Unfortunately, by that time, it was too late to back out, without hurting someone’s feelings.

Carol, sneakily peered over her book to see  Mark finish off a second beer and then toss the bottle toward the incoming tide.  Rolling her eyes, she thought, “What a dick…I’m so over his shit!”

Ted’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“…ah…com’on Kimmie.  Don’t be mad.  You’re just so hot, I thought you could use a little cooling-off!”

“Well, you…mister…are on my naughty list.”

Kimmie poked out her bottom lip and pretended to pout.  She wasn’t mad…truth be told she was getting ready to jump into the water anyway.  She just enjoyed teasing Ted…he was so easy.  She shook her head gently to get the wet hair from her eyes, and then slid pink polished finger nails through her hair, to smooth it back, and out of her face.  Ted stood in front of her with puppy dog eyes and open arms.  Kimmie accepted the invite. She pressed her body against his, stood on the tips of her toes and pulled his face to hers for a “make-up” kiss.  However the “make-up” session was interrupted by Mark.

“Hey, man, where’s the boat?  Where’s the damn boat?”

Reluctantly, Ted pulled his lips from Kimmie’s and looked in the direction of the pier. Sure enough, the rickety dock stood alone.  The boat was gone.  Looking at where the boat had been, Ted felt a small tinge of panic.  Trying to assure himself he said the next thought that came to mind.

“Um…I don’t know…maybe he had to get gas…or something…?”

“Gas!  Where’s he gonna get gas!  It took us three hours to get here and I didn’t see any freaking gas-stations on the way… did you?

Carol laid down her book, put up a hand to shield her eyes, and looked at the empty pier.

Kimmie looked as well, and quietly mouthed the same question, “Where’s the boat?”

All four teenagers stared at the empty dock and vast ocean.  The only sound, to be heard, was the incoming and outgoing waves that bathed the island’s white sand.  Each one, too confused to speak, tried to rationalize the cause for the missing boat.

They stood like that for a couple of minutes until Kimmie’s quivering voice broke the silence.

“Ummm…wha…what are we going to d….do…?”

Ted, turned on his heel, ran to where the backpacks lay, and came back, cell phone in hand, hoping for a signal.  Mark tried the same thing, and when he could find none, he cursed and tossed the useless phone on the nearest beach towel.

Carol slipped closer to Kimmie and took her hand in hers, not knowing if she did it to comfort Kimmie or to comfort herself.

***

The sun began its slow decent in the darkening sky.  Low lying clouds oozed red and dripped like blood upon the horizon.  If circumstances had been different perhaps it would have seemed romantic, however, for the frightened-four it felt more like an omen of evil to come.

Ted broke the cryptic silence, “Maybe we should try to find some sort of shelter before it gets dark” Pointing toward the Banan trees he added, “Under those trees looks promising.” Without waiting for a reply he headed toward the trees.  Being the quarter back of the football team, made it easy for Ted to take control. He was use to everyone following his lead.

Mark hollered at Ted’s back, “What if the boat comes back and we’re not here?”

Carol had wondered the same,  but also thought it a good idea to find protection for the night.  After-all, who knew what kind of animals roamed the island, furthermore, the lower the sun dropped the colder it became.  She looked toward Kimmie, sitting on a beach towel, arms crossed and shivering.  Carol wondered if the shivering stemmed from cold or fright.  Feeling sorry for her friend, she went over to sit beside her.  Carol reached for the towel, lying beside them, and draped it over their shoulders.  She laid her head against Kimmie’s and whispered,  “Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay.”

They sat huddled together while Ted and Mark argued.

***

Dr Stevens looked at the children, only inches from their reach.  All three lunged from their chains, and viciously reached rotting fingers toward the doctor.

“Come now, that’s no way to treat your Papa,” he cooed.

He stood gazing at their bulging eyes and gaping mouths.  For a moment he pretended to be one of girls seeing the creatures for the first time, and quivered with delight.  He had always wanted a daughter…or two…perhaps.  At the thought the doctor giggled, pursed his lips and said in a childish voice,

“What a happy whittle family we’ll be.”

As he praised his soon-to-be family, he stepped a little too close to the creatures and one of them scratched his face with its jagged finger nail.  Startled, the doctor stepped back and hissed,

“You wretched, nasty child!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he angrily pressed a button on the small receiver he held in his hand.  Immediately, all three creatures fell to the ground in agony.

“I thought we had gotten beyond that…” the doctor said through gritted teeth, and pressed the button over and over.

Dr Stevens touched scratch below his eye, and looked at the his blood dripping through his fingers.  He stepped forward to stand above the piteous creatures.   All three lay at his feet writhing in pain.  Looking at them with soul less eyes he lifted his foot and brought the heel of his boot down upon the head of one of his creations.  The brittle bone and rotted fleshed gave way with sickening slurp.  The doctor’s boot went clean through the putrefied head to rest upon the bloodied earth.  He pressed the button once again and the remaining two screamed.  Their cries crescendo-ed through the palms overhead.

***

to be continued…

Daily Prompt:  Infect

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Amy’s Story: Part 2

(To read Part 1 first visit Survive: Amy’s Story)

Recap:  Our protagonist, Amy, awakens to darkness.  She’s hanging, from rusty shackles, that are biting painfully into her bleeding ankles.  Confused and alone she drifts in and out of consciousness.  She tries to remember what led her to this hell.

Conscious once again, Amy heard nothing.  She began to sort the snippets of memory, she had recalled…the cabin…a phone call…Rudy… barking and growling…a loud explosion…

Slowly, ever so slowly, the pieces fell into place and Amy was able to remember the sequence of events that had led her here…

***

Amy and Rudy finally arrived.  The snow storm had made the roads treacherous, so the two-hour trip had turned into four.  Amy called Sky, not wanting her worry.  Sky’s voice greeted her after the third ring.

“Hey you!  Yeah, I’m talking to you…the person with the phone growing out of their ear!  Obviously I’m unable to attach mine, so leave a message and “yours truly” will call you back.  If you’re lucky.”

Amy rolled her eyes. 

“Okay…the greeting is getting a little old…why don’t you change it already…”

 “Listen, didn’t want you to worry.  The roads were hellish, but Rudy and I made it to the cabin in one piece…err…maybe I should say two pieces…hmm… Anyway, we’re here, we’re safe and we’re sound.  Try to be good while I’m away.  I know for you, that’s quite the challenge!   Call me when you get a chance.  I love you, babe…bye.”

In spite of herself, Amy smiled, and tossed the phone into her handbag. 

Rudy, eager to escape the confines of the car, licked the closed window.  Amy reached for the passenger’s door handle, “Poor baby, how dare mama keep you cooped up for so long!” 

Rudy jumped into the undisturbed snow and rolled vigorously.

 Smiling, happy to see her golden so excited, she gathered her handbag, suitcase and easel and trudged through the deep snow towards the rustic log cabin, she and Sky had built together. 

The musty air, that had been trapped inside for months, assaulted her nose, causing her to pause for a moment, but Rudy nonchalantly padded past her and went inside.  He busied himself sniffing here and there, as Amy opened windows to let in fresh air.  A cold snowy breeze rushed in and Amy breathed it deep into her lungs.  Looking around at the rustic walls, she felt a peace she hadn’t known for a long time.  Secretly, she thanked Sky for insisting she take this week to rest, recover and perhaps, begin a new painting.  God knows she needed recovery, after barely surviving the horrors of the previous month.  Immediately her mind began to replay each horrific scenario; the letters, the calls, random gifts…the home invasion… 

“Stop it Amy, ” she chastised herself and willed her mind back into the present. 

Rudy, sitting on his haunches, stared at her and shifted his head sideways trying to understand what, “Stop it Amy” meant.  Amy noticed his quizzical look, laughed and ruffled the golden locks atop his head.  All at once his confusion dissipated.  He gave her hand a quick lick before padding away in search of stinky new smells. 

The cabin, nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains, was so isolated that cell-phone reception, became a dream that never came true.  So Amy, a lover of antiques, had purchased an old rotary phone, from a local flea market; and hung it on the wall, beside the entrance that opened into a  small kitchen.  The entire cabin was small; other than the kitchen, it contained only 1 bedroom, a bath and a cozy den with a stone fireplace and a cedar mantle.  It was a perfect “weekend get-a-way” for her and Sky. 

Rudy barked, startling Amy.  He anxiously scratched at the screen door that led outside.  Thinking he had to pee, Amy opened the door to let him outside.  Simultaneously the phone hanging on the wall began to ring.  Amy knew it was Sky returning her call.  She picked it up on the third ring and immediately said into the receiver, “Hey babe!  It’s beautiful here!  You should see the snow!”  

The voice on the other end replied, “Amy, listen to me.  Lock the door!” 

Amy recognized Sky’s voice, but Rudy’s incessant barking garbled her message. 

“Damn it Rudy, hush up!” 

In response, Rudy’s barking deepened with guttural growls, making it impossible for Amy to hear Sky.

 “Wait a minute, I’ll be right back,” she said into the phone, and then laid it to rest on the wooden table, they used to eat their meals.  As Amy walked toward the screen door, the voice from the phone, begging her to not open the door, went unheard.   

The screen door squeaked when it opened.  Amy stepped outside, and stood on the wooden porch.  Rudy, only a few feet from her, crouched low and snarled baring his sharp canines.  Amy felt a wave of uneasiness, for she knew Rudy, her happy-go-lucky retriever, rarely growled.

Amy scanned the edge of the woods looking for anything that would explain her dog’s vicious transformation.  Seeing absolutely nothing, she knelt and began to coax Rudy to come to her. 

“Come on boy…it’s okay…” 

A shadow, flickered quickly past her peripheral vision, before she could turn to see what it was, Rudy lunged in her direction.  Gnashing teeth and a deafening BANG were last things Amy remembered. 

Afterwards, came darkness.

***

Amy, cold and naked, hung from her shackles, her tears followed gravity’s path, to mingle with the earth below.  She tried to say Rudy’s name, but the duct tape, stretched tightly, across her mouth, sealed her lips shut.  She wondered what had happened to Rudy.

Amy did the only thing she could; she hung alone in the dark, a piece of meat, awaiting its captor.

She heard only the sounds of silence.

***

to be continued…

(To Read Part 3 Visit Here)

Daily Prompt:  Heard

 

 

 

The Angry Entity

The following is my participation in “One-Word-Prompt” and “Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.”  (175 word count; photo compliments of Barbara Taylor)

 

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Nye stared at the apartment where “it” had happened.  He was thankful for the body of water between; but the barrier did little to quell his fear.  Slowly he let his mind replay the events of that night.

The moment he emptied the last box, the clock struck midnight, and then a knock at the door.

“Strange…” he mused.  Curious, he opened the door…nothing.

“Even stranger…”  he said aloud.

Two minutes passed…another knock.   Again, nothing.

This repeated twice more.  Nye, finally threw the door open and yelled,

“Stop knocking or come the hell in!”

It came inside.

Immediately, he felt the evil entity.   Nye ran for the door, but the door closed and the lock turned.  A window opened and he felt himself being pulled towards it.  Horrified he watched as  five bloody claw marks ripped each arm.  Each time he resisted the jagged gashes grew deeper.

Screaming, he passed out.

Hours later, paramedics lifted Nye into the ambulance.    Nye overheard one say  “Poor bastard, probably threw the razor-blade out the window.

***

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Entity by lostknightkg-d515tnc.jpg

“Stay Creepy My Friends”

Visit my other blog Redhead Reflections

(Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is a weekly challenge where you write a story from a single photograph.  The challenge:  It must be a complete story and word count cannot be over 175)

Siren’s Song

Siren's Song

Max’s stare was blank but his body was filled with longing.  Her song was the epitome of desire.  In all of his 50 years, Max had never heard anything to compare.

The first time it had happened, Max had been suffering from insomnia.  Sleep, always his distant friend, remained aloof long into the witching hours, and so, out of utter boredom, he had done the unthinkable…. he had walked barefoot to an empty dock, boarded his Irish Lady and taken her out into the calm sea waters.  Max knew sailing alone, especially in the dead of night, wasn’t the smartest thing to do; however a stifling loneliness prodded him to  curse all warnings and tuck them away into the deepest recess of his mind.

At first, all was quiet, save for  the wind’s gentle tug on the mainsail and the small waves kissing the sides of the Irish Lady.  With the waters so calm, Max relaxed by the rudder and enjoyed his cigar without interruption.  Nearing the end of the smoke another sound began to mingle among the wind and waves.  The mé·nage à trois slowly married and became  a sweet seductress caressing and whispering within his ear.

At first, Max wondered if another boat was near, but a quick 360 proved that he and his Irish Lady were the only ones upon the water.  As the song grew louder, he relaxed and was eventually enveloped within the soprano’s beautiful serenade.  The woman’s voice was soft and gentle and even though Max knew it to be strange he felt no fear, only a peaceful sense of longing.

“Strange…” he whispered, “so…so strange.”

The Siren’s song warmed him and put him in a blank trance  until it slowly left as it had come, leaving only the sounds of the wind and waves.  Max had stayed out another hour hoping to hear her voice again but it never came.  Disappointed he turned his Irish Lady and went home.  The moonlight sail proved cathartic, for he had slept like a baby once he was home and under the covers of his bed.

Max went out every night for the rest of the week and sure enough he was rewarded with his sweet siren’s song.  Never, not even once, had he any inkling  to jump overboard into the arms of some beautiful bare breasted mermaid.  Just the opposite, he laughed, her voice had made him feel warm and completely safe.

Fearing he was losing his mind, Max had promised that each night would be the last, only to break the promise the following night.  And so, here he was, once again, sailing under the milky way awaiting the siren’s song.  With each night his desire to hear her grew until tonight it was a consuming fire begging to be quenched.  Minutes faded into hours with no sign of his siren.   Max, unwilling to give up, continued to sail the dark waters like a mad animal ravenous for his prey.  Finally it became obvious that his siren was not coming.     Utter loneliness squeezed his heart so hard it physically hurt, but he had  no other choice but to turn the Irish Lady and head back home.

Max went straight to bed but once again sleep was a stranger. He lay awake in his bed watching the breeze flutter the curtains of the open bedroom window.  He was filled with the fear that he’d never hear his siren again.

“Why hadn’t she come?” he whispered into the nothingness.

Faintly…ever so faintly a voice…her voice… like a whisper drifted through the open window.   His heart quickened, and  quickened all the more, when he realized her song was gradually getting louder. Finally she sang to him right outside his window and just as it had been upon the water her voice soothed him.

Entranced he lay there listening until her song came to an end..  At first he was afraid she had gone but then he heard her breathing and he knew she was still there.  He thought it impossible but her breath outside his window was sweeter than her song.  Gradually her whispers of breath became heavier and huskier until his siren sounded like a woman consumed with orgasmic pleasure.  Max filled with need and he wanted her to come inside and slip beneath the covers with him.  Somehow he knew she couldn’t come inside until he offered an invitation.

He was about to beckon, only to be interrupted by her moaning…

“…Max…I came for you, I came for you upon the waters, but I couldn’t find you.  My heart hurt… my soul cried, and my body ached for you… and so, I have come to you, Max…please…please bid me come in…”

Max, throbbing with the pain of desire, could wait no longer, said, “Come to me.”

The screen that separated her from his room began to tear slowly from top to bottom.   Max looked for her presence, but could see no one, only the slow rending of the screen. Once it  reached its decent a head flowing with long black hair slowly emerged.   Max strained to see her face, however, it was downcast so that her hair fell forward and long. The figure climbed through the window and then stood naked within the moon’s glow. Her long hair fell strategically to cover her breasts and cascaded over her body to hide everything but the perfect rounding of her hips and the length of her legs.  Standing like this she didn’t move and  Max wondered if he should go to her; however, as if she heard his thought, she began to slowly move toward him.  Once at the foot of the bed she stopped to stand silently, her hair, still covering her face, had parted just enough to expose the nipple and swell  of her left breast.  Feeling as if he could wait no longer, Max begged her to come to him.  Once the plea left his mouth she disappeared.  He presumed she had vanished until he felt the rustle of the sheets around his feet, and he knew she was about crawl underneath the covers. Slowly he felt her womanly body inch its way over his until she lay full upon him.  Her body was warm and soft and she eased her softness over his hardness until he was totally consumed within her flesh.    She began to slowly move upon him.and he thought he would die.  Consumed in desire he arched upward and ran his hands over her buttocks, up the small of her back, and ever upward until they held each side of her head. .  His fingers entangled within her hair and slowly he was able to push it up and over her face, and in that instant his siren let out a blood curdling scream.  Max opened his tightly closed eyes and saw a hideous hag writhing in pleasure above him.  Her mouth, unhinged hung long and low, and rocked side to side like a metronome.  Horrified he watched as her jaw stretched even longer so that he looked down the black bottomless pit of her throat.  Feeling the pull this dark abyss, Max  looked to his siren’s eyes to beg for mercy, but her bulbous eyes were even blacker than the pit and he knew they contained no mercy.  Unimaginable pain wracked his body as he felt himself shrivel to a liquid that poured down her throat.  The hag hungrily drank every portion of him until all that was left was damp spot upon sheets.

Slowly the hag’s sagging mouth closed and turned into lips the color of rose buds; and her black eyes grayed and morphed  until they were the color of the Mediterranean Sea.  A beautiful naked women left Max’s bed, drifted through the torn screen and disappeared into the sea mist  that lay beyond.

The Blue Balloon

(The following is my participation in today’s one-word daily prompt:  Buddy.)

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Photo borrowed from Fine Art America

It was the blue one…always the blue one, and there was only one in the bunch. One blue balloon for one little boy.

The balloon man searched for his next buddy.

He pushed the cart of balloons and watched them all with a curious eye.  Children everywhere…the carnival had indeed, proved to be a smorgasbord of easy picking.

“Eeny meeny miny mo…Harry, Timmy or Jimmy Joe…  ”  He secretly snickered at the rhyme but was careful not to let his excitement show.  

He scanned his options searching for his Harry, Timmy or Jimmy Joe.  Finally his eyes landed upon the redhead who had strayed from his mom.

Bingo!  The winner-thought the balloon man.

He reached for the blue balloon, and handed it to the lost little boy.  The boy saw the balloon and reached in the air…

Then in a flash of blue, the boy is whisked away!

Blue lights are flashing everywhere, and the balloon man is sucking dirt from the ground.

The winded officer, on top of the clown, spoke into his shoulder mic, “We Got him!  The son-of-a-bitch will kidnap and hurt no more!”

The blue balloon drifted up and away…and then was gone.

***

“Stay Creepy My Friends”

Visit my other blog Redhead Reflections

(The Blue Balloon was previously published as The Balloon Man at Redhead Reflections)

(Photo borrowed from fineartamerica.com)

 

Possession

Possession

Ghost ChildI was quite the unusual child.  No one dared speak it out loud, but none-the-less, it ate upon their brains like a canker sore.

“Different…,” they’d say.  “Just a wee-bit queer…for my like’n.”  Then they’d catch me looking at them and their faces would blanch white, as the cotton they were picking.

I enjoy making them uncomfortable.  I enjoy hearing the rhythm of their heartbeat quicken.  It makes me alive within this skin.

It’s a funny thing to feel so alive when scaring others to death.  I almost get giddy with the pleasure.  Once I almost smiled but  I never let them see me smile.

One day I’ll leave this village, but not until I’m finished with them.  I never leave a job undone.  I stay until the end…and sometimes it takes oh so long for the end.

The end makes me sad.  After the end there is no fear and it’s the fear I miss most.  And so I stretch the means to defer the end.

I try to linger as long as possible, but, alas, the end is always inevitable.  So when the job is done, I lay them to hell and spill dirt over their faces…and then…then I can smile.

I wonder the woods, for beyond yonder hill, my new family awaits.  The cabin is bright and I knock at the door.  When it opens they invite me in and  my job begins all over again.

Generations have come and generations have gone, and yet I’m still here…still the same unusual, girl of seven.

Yes, this always remains…

I’m never alone, for this body I possess, will always be my home.

***

Home is a person.  If you’re lucky, home is yourself. __ Duchess Goldblatt 

[Please visit my other blog Redhead Reflections]

Angel of Death

angel-of-death-bw-david-dehner

Angel of Death Photo by David Dehner

 

She watched him from her place of containment.  Sure enough, he had “the mark” and so she fled her confines to mingle among the chaos of the crowd below.

She felt his stare.  Knowing this to be her cue, she covered the ten steps, separating them and asked with a timid voice, “Care to dance, handsome?”

As usual, the stranger’s eyes filled with suspicion, but once he saw her shy smile, he tossed doubt away, and  accepted her soft hand.  In an instant their bodies melded and he was consumed with unquenchable lust.  He wanted her, but the intense craving terrified him. Sensing his resolve, she crushed him closer and huskily growled, “My poor…poor beast..not use to being controlled…”

Slowly she pulled away…but only enough for him to look into her black eyes.  In them, he saw the innocents he had hurt screaming his name and coming for  him. Terror squeezed his heart until it burst and then the beast fell to the ground.

She let the corpse drop to the floor and then she faded into the picture hanging on the tavern’s wall.  The caption underneath read, “Angel of Death”

(Word count 175)

(originally posted as “Mark of the Beast”  in Redhead Reflections in the participation of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers)