Police Chase Vampire in Sacramento DarkTales

Looking out of his apartment window Richard saw the “Goth” kids sitting in the green park grass talking. “Fucking role players,” he said to himself. “They don’t know what it’s really like,” he grunted to himself in an angry tone, just barely audible. The involuntary shaking he was currently experiencing had gotten worse throughout the day.  “They choose to live this way; I didn’t have a fucking choice!” Richard continued as his low mumble became a yell. He became frenzied as he rummaged through the filthy apartment.  Sifting through the carcasses of small animals and rodents he had assembled, he finally found one that was to his liking. Standing in the middle of the room, he held his head back, and drained into his mouth the animal’s last drops of blood. Mentally frenzied, he hurried about his apartment looking for more blood. He could feel the blood within his veins gradually turning to dust. “I have to stop it!” He yelled out loud. Just when all seemed hopeless he spotted the squirrel he killed earlier. “Yes,” he exclaimed as he cut the rodent open and devoured his entrails.

He thought back at how they laughed at him when he tried to explain the theft of his pulmonary artery. At the hospital, they scoffed at him when he shared fantasies about killing rabbits with the staff. Sitting in his favorite chair; a urine scented, blood soaked, easy chair, placed in the center of the room, he remembered how his roommates had given him an ultimatum about moving. Wanting to be rid of Richard so desperately, they left him and the apartment. He was glad that they were gone, now he was free to bring the animals in that he needed. He was now free to concoct his special life giving recipe. Richard had found that mixing the raw organs with Coca-Cola in a blender and drinking the concoction prolonged his life.  Richard, now relaxed, could feel his heart expanding back to its normal size; breathed a sigh of relief now that he also felt his blood starting to re-liquefy. He looked over the fine array of creatures that had unwittingly helped him prolong his life and began to sob. In his mind he knew that the only blood that would cure him permanently was human blood.

The conspiracy that he had fallen victim to so many years ago was now beginning to take its toll on him; so he thought. Reading about the exploits of the Hillside Strangler; Richard felt that he too had fallen prey to the same despicable alien experiments and that they were both kindred spirits of sorts. Breaking into a hysterical laughter, he recalled the looks of horror on his neighbor’s faces after he’d devoured their beloved rabbits, dogs and cats. Smearing their life giving blood all over his pale white frame brought Richard to an unparalleled state of euphoria. He wondered what level of ecstasy a bath of human blood would elevate him to.

Feeling erotic, Richard disrobed and slit open all of the remaining animal carcasses. Caressing himself with the rotting animal parts he began developing his plan for attaining his crimson gold from a human contributor. The attempts he had made previously had ended in failure. The first time Richard shot wildly into the home of a Sacramento woman. A police search of the woman's home found the slug in her kitchen; no one was harmed. The next attempt came in the form of a drive by shooting. The victim was Ambrose Griffin, a 51-year-old engineer and father of two, who was helping his wife bring groceries into their home. Richard had killed him but could not collect the “ingredients” from his victim to prepare his elixir. Lying naked on the floor of his apartment covered in blood and rotting animal flesh he devised his next plan.

Walking through a neighborhood to enact his strategy, he attempted to break into a home but found the door locked so he left. As he walked he spotted an old high school classmate, Nancy Holden. He asked Nancy for a ride, but frightened by his disheveled appearance, she declined and drove away. Richard continued down the street.  Arriving at the home of a young married couple, he broke in and stole some of their valuables. Angered by the woman’s absence, Richard urinated into a drawer of their infant's clothing, and defecated on their son's bed. The couple came home while he was still in the house; the husband attacked him, but Richard escaped.

Angered by his lack of success Richard continued walking until he came across the home of David and Teresa Wallin. Spotting the pregnant Teresa carrying garbage from her home he deduced that the home probably lacked a male presence. Gaining entry to her home, Richard shot the woman once in the hand and twice in the head; killing her instantly. Giddy with the obvious success of his objective, Richard dragged her body to her bedroom and raped it post-mortem while repeatedly stabbing it with a butcher knife. When he had finished, he carved the corpse open and removed several of her internal organs, using a bucket to collect the blood and then taking it in the bathroom to bathe in it. He then sliced off her nipple and using an empty yogurt container as a drinking glass, drank her blood; before leaving, he went into the yard, found a pile of dog feces, and returned to stuff it into the corpse's mouth and throat. Moving quickly through the night, he returned to his apartment. Reclining peacefully, he continued to devour the fruits of his labor and smeared the remains on his exposed frail physique.

On January 23rd of 1978 Richard awoke in extreme pain. “It’s happening again,” he yelled aloud! Richard felt the sensation of what he perceived to be the excruciating pain of his heart shrinking. His deteriorated mental state allowed him to see his blood turning to dust before his own eyes. Frantically, he thought of a way to save his life. Richard purchased two puppies from a neighbor, both of which he immediately killed and drank the blood of. He then left the bodies, like discarded soda cans, on the neighbor's front lawn.

Four days later the unrelenting sensation returned to Richard and he knew that mere puppies would do nothing to quill the pain. On January 27th, Richard entered the home of 38-year-old Evelyn Miroth, who was babysitting her 22-month-old nephew, David.  Evelyn’s six-year-old son Jason, and Dan Meredith, a neighbor was also in the home. Richard confronted Dan first and fatally shot him twice in the head at point-blank range. Hearing the commotion, Jason ran to his mother's bedroom, where he was found and fatally shot twice in the head. Richard then found Evelyn in the bathroom and fatally shot her once in the head. He dragged her corpse onto the bed, where he simultaneously sodomized it and drank its blood from a series of slices to the back of the neck. He then shot 22-month-old David in the head.

Richard’s debilitating mental capacity enforced his delusions of his shrinking heart. His depraved mental state formulated only one solution. He stabbed Evelyn’s corpse at least half a dozen times in the anus, the knife penetrating her uterus. He stabbed her in a series of vital points on the body, which caused blood from her internal organs to pool into her abdomen, which he then sliced open and drained into a bucket; he then consumed all of the blood.   Still unsatisfied, Richard retrieved David’s corpse, split its skull open in the bathtub, and consumed some of the brain matter.

A knock on the door startled Richard, a play date young Jason had planned came calling. Richard grabbed Dan’s car keys and David’s corpse and left through a side door. The child saw Richard leaving and informed a neighbor. The neighbor broke into the Miroth home where he discovered the bodies and contacted the authorities. The police found that the perpetrator left perfect hand & fingerprints in blood on the walls, as well as footprints on the floor.  At home Richard removed David’s penis and used it as a straw through which he sucked the blood out of the body. He then sliced the corpse open and consumed several internal organs and made smoothies out of others. He finally disposed of the corpse at a nearby church.

For a week Richard was at home secluded and oblivious to the on goings around him and concerning him. Still marveling in his “accomplishments” a knock on the door startled him. Richard adamantly refused the police detective’s request for an interview and slammed the door. Unbeknownst to Richard was the ballistic results that linked him directly to each murder as well as the fingerprint evidence that led the police straight to him. Richard, dressed in his bloody clothes, left his apartment for the last time. Officers arrested him and found inch of his apartment to be soaked or covered in blood. Body parts, mainly intestines were found in Tupperware bowls as well as on shelves in the refrigerator.  “I was forced to do this,” he told the officers at the station. “I need a radar gun then I could show you,” he told FBI profiler Robert Ressler. He continued, “With a radar gun I can go arrest the Nazis and UFOs and THEY can stand trial for the murders.” Richard than proceeded to hand Ressler a hand full of macaroni and cheese that he had saved in his pants pocket.

On May 8th, 1979 Richard was found guilty of 6 counts of first degree murder. The defense asked for a clemency hearing, in which a judge determined that he was not legally insane and was subsequently sentenced to die in the gas chamber. On December 26, 1980, a guard doing cell checks found Richard lying awkwardly on his bed, not breathing. An autopsy determined that he committed suicide with an overdose of prison doctor-prescribed antidepressants that he had been saving up for the last few weeks.

Such was the life, crimes and death of Richard Trenton Chase; the Vampire of Sacramento.

Submitted January 18, 2018 at 03:24PM by Reignmaker1911 http://ift.tt/2FS42Vt DarkTales

Razor's Edge - Part 1 NSFW DarkTales

I woke up in the dark, breathing heavily, panicked... Everything around me was pitch black and the room felt almost damp. I threw the covers off of myself, exposing my bare legs to the chilly air. Goosebumps raised to the surface of my pale skin almost instantly. The blanket felt damp as well. "That's odd." I thought to myself. I shrugged it off to cold sweats from whatever bad dream I may have been having and reached for the lamp on my bedside table.

After a moment of searching, I found the small switch. Flipped it up, into the on position and waited. The light bathed the small room in a faint orange glow. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and waited for my sight to adjust to the light. I glanced around the room briefly, looking for anything that may have stirred me from my slumber, but nothing seemed out of place.

The little table next to my bed had the small lamp on it and my cell phone, which was now fully charged. I picked it up, and looked at it, thinking maybe someone had called, rousing me awake. "No Notifications".

"Ok," I thought, so that wasn't it. The phone said it was 3:17am. Almost two hours before when my alarm was supposed to go off. 5am.

I set my phone back on the table and swung my legs to the left, drooping them over the edge of the bed. I hesitated a moment, fear of something grabbing me from under the bed. This was an irrational fear from my childhood, that I never really grew out of. After a moment of hovering just above the six inch gap between my box spring and the floor, I slid forward, and placed my feet on the red shag carpet.

I pushed myself up into a standing position and drowsily began shuffling toward the door to my bedroom. I figured I would get a glass of water, and hopefully get back to sleep for a little while before I had to get up for work.

I reached the tall oak door leading to the hallway of my tiny one bedroom apartment, reached out and turned the knob.

(creeeeaaaak) The door whined from it's brass hinges.

The entire apartment was dark and quiet. The tiny kitchen was just at the other end of the hall, separated by the bathroom, just to my left and an archway leading to the living room off to the right. I felt for the wall with my hand, and made my way down the dark hallway toward the kitchen.

(drip... drip... drip) I heard from the bathroom.

"Damn that faucet!" I said out loud, aggravated. The sink in the bathroom had leaked on and off since I moved into this building about four months ago. I had called maintenance about it multiple times. And every time, they came out, fixed the leak, and then no more than a day later at best, it would be leaking again.

I made it past the bathroom, the dripping slowly fading out behind me. I moved past the living room entryway, and to the kitchen at the end of the hall. Reaching up to my left, I felt for the switch on the wall. When I found the switch, I flipped it on and showered the small kitchen in yellow light.

Again, nothing seemed out of place, and by this time, I wasn't sure anything had happened to stir me from my sleep. I shrugged it off and walked across the room, the linoleum cold on my bare feet. I stopped at the cupboard where I kept all of my glasses, opened it and grabbed a glass, when something moving in my peripheral vision, caught my attention.

Off to the right of where I stood, was my refrigerator, and to the right of the fridge was my back door. It was one of those sliding glass doors. It led to a small balcony overlooking the concrete parking lot behind my apartment building. I had a set of large sky blue drapes hanging over the doors, to maintain what little privacy I was allowed, given my living in a cramped apartment building in the middle of the city.

The movement I saw was one of these drapes, the one that hung over the door that opened, was waving slightly, as if there were a breeze. But that couldn't be right. I specifically remembered closing and locking the sliding glass door before I had gone to bed the night before.

Concerned, I set the glass down on the counter, and inched toward the doorway. After just a couple steps, I saw the shimmering shards of broken glass laying on the floor of my kitchen, just in front of the doorway.

"Shit," I thought to myself.

Had someone broken in? I lived on the second floor, and my balcony was a good distance up from the ground, so it didn't seem likely. But the shattering of glass would have undoubtedly woken me up.

Panicked, I turned back to the cupboards and counters. Just below my glasses cupboard, was a drawer, you know? The one with all the sharp stuff in it. I slid open the drawer carefully, trying not to make any noise, and grabbed the first thing I found. It happened to be one of those two-pronged turkey forks.

I turned, weapon in hand, and faced the dark hallway again. It all seemed so eerily quiet. I was having trouble believing that anything could be in my apartment with me. Were they in the living room? Waiting in the darkness for the perfect time to attack? Had I passed right by them in the bathroom? I felt chills imagining the horrifying possibilities.

Slowly, I worked up my nerve and edged back toward the darkness looming in the hall. I had made it almost all the way across the kitchen, and could barely make out the dark gap of the archway leading to the living room, when I heard a loud crash coming from my bedroom.

The crash was so loud, it made me almost jump out of my skin. I dropped the turkey fork in my start, which landed point-side down into my right foot.

"Oww!" I cried out in pain, as the blade pierced an inch into the meat on the outside of my foot. "Good thing it's so sharp!" I thought cynically as I squatted and quickly jerked the prong from my foot. I bit my tongue so I didn't cry out in pain again, and stood back up, holding the fork menacingly out in front of me.

My foot throbbed in agony and bled profusely from the half gaping hole. The blood poured out onto the smooth kitchen floor, making the floor slippery. I reached to the left, and grabbed the marble counter top for balance. Once I was sure of my footing, I turned back to the dark hallway.

The source of the crash was still hidden, although I knew it was in the apartment, probably still in my bedroom. I limped slowly toward the hall. After just a couple seconds, I was back in the dark hallway. I reached for the light switch, to my right, and flipped it. But nothing happened. I flipped it another time... and again. Nothing.

"Damn," I thought. I could see the faint glow of the small lamp on in my room at the opposite end of the hall. It seemed so far away from where I stood now. Slowly, I made my way down the hall, toward my room.

As I reached the archway for the living room, I flipped the switch for the light in there. Nothing. Trying not to lose my nerve under the pressure of the horrible thing that was happening, I ignored the fact that the light wouldn't work, and instead continued down the hallway, using the wall for support. My foot still gushed blood, and left a nasty trail of blood down the hall.

I reached the bathroom, and flipped the switch.

Light!

The dim bulb basked part of the hallway in an irridescent yellow glow, which further revealed the bloody trail I had left behind. I saw my reflection briefly in the full length mirror on the bathroom door. My hair was crazy, my eyes wild and I had speckles of blood all over my right arm from the turkey fork piercing my foot and then dripping blood everywhere.

I continued past, to my bedroom, the door was slightly ajar, but mostly closed. Cautiously, I peeked into the room, careful to not touch the door to avoid making any noise. From where I stood, I could only see the small table with the lamp on it. I couldn't quite see my bed, but I could see that my cell phone wasn't where I left it.

Dammit! How could I call for help now?

Slowly, I pushed the door open.

(Creeeeaaaak)

At first, I saw nothing out of the ordinary. My bed was slightly disheveled, as I had left it when I had woken up. The lamp sat on the night stand, as normal. My phone charger was on the floor by the night stand, but no phone attached to it. As I turned though, to face the back half of my room I saw that my oak dresser had been toppled over, and lay in pieces on the floor. Splintered wood and my clothes laid scattered all over the red shag carpet.

I continued to scan the room, still holding the turkey fork, though my hands now shook violently with fear. When my gaze reached the corner to the left of me, I saw the intruder. It was about eight feet tall, dark leathery skin stretched tight over what looked to be a humanoid bone structure. He had long bony fingers, and holes in the sides of his head where his ears should be. He faced the wall, and had something shiny in his hands. My cell phone.

I watched in horror as he took the phone, sniffed it briefly and then put it into his mouth. I heard the awful crunch as he took a enormous bite out of it. The lights flashed, and then failed completely as the beast tore the phone in half with it's brutally sharp teeth. He then threw the other half on the floor, and spit pieces of plastic and metal out in all directions. He continued to sniff more of the room, almost like he was searching for something.

I gasped in terror, and the beast turned his gaze to me.

His eyes lit up in excitement when he saw me. Eyes that glowed a vibrant green color. He grinned menacingly, revealing his long, sharp fangs.

"Who... a... a... are you?" I stammered.

"I am the Razor," He scoffed. "Who are you?"

"Um, I'm Amy," I answered honestly, too terrified to lie. "What do you want?"

"I want to eat," He answered.

"What are you doing here, in my house?" I asked him, as I slowly inched back toward the doorway. Maybe I could get away, out the front door before he killed me.

"Searching." He answered, sniffing the air wildly. "Something... something smells so good." He finished. Before I knew it, he sprang toward me. "It's you!" He said excitedly, "You smell so... delicious." He cried, breathing heavily into my hair in a craze. "I must have a taste."

"No," Was all I could get out, totally stunned.

The beast grabbed my right hand, the one holding the weapon, and licked the blood from my fingers.

"Mmmmm," he mumbled, as he continued to lick the blood from my arms.

"I must have you," He declared.

"Let me go!" I cried desperately, trying to break free from his grip.

"I'm sorry, I can't do that," The Razor laughed maniacally. "I'm so hungry." And he began to nibble at my arm. His teeth scratching and tearing at my skin.

"Stop!" I yelled, and thrusted the turkey fork into his side, just below his bony ribs. The blade sunk in all the way to the shaft, and I released it. The blade now hanging from his side.

The Razor continued to laugh.

"Stupid girl," He proclaimed. "I could have made this easy on you. You wouldn't have felt a thing." He wiped the drops of my blood from his mouth, and licked his fingers. "Now, you will suffer!" With this, he grabbed my arm with both hands firmly, and snapped it at the elbow, which caused the bone to protrude from the inside of the joint.

I cried out in pain and horror. I could do nothing except watch as he ripped my forearm from the rest of my arm. It detached and began to ooze blood.

The Razor put the detached forearm in his mouth, and began sucking the blood from it. It was dry in just a matter of seconds. I didn't know what to do. I just crumpled into a ball on the floor, curling my legs up to my chest, and wept, watching the blood pour from my now missing arm. He crept closer to me, and crouched down, getting right next to my face.

"You don't enjoy this?" He asked tauntingly.

"Fuck you!" I screamed through tears, and spat in his hideous face.

"Very well," The Razor laughed, and he began to shred my clothes. He tore my shirt, exposing my breasts, and began to lick and suck at them. Then he ripped my shorts open at the crotch, and stuck his long bony fingers inside of me.

I cried out in pain and disgust. He removed his fingers from between my legs, and began to lick them, clearly enjoying himself. I saw the turkey fork still sticking out of his side. If I could just get a hold of it...

He lifted me off of the floor and forced his disgusting penis inside of me, moaning animalistically. I ignored it as best as I could, and while he was distracted, I grabbed a hold of the turkey fork. I yanked it from his side, and jammed it into my own chest.

I looked up just in time to see him look at me in confusion, and then everything faded to black...

Submitted May 31, 2017 at 10:10PM by Slyde87 http://ift.tt/2sn3ejy DarkTales

The Long Halloween DarkTales

I couldn't breathe; not a chance to catch my breath. I had soon realized just how fucked up I was when I stopped laughing and caught my breath. I looked around and forgot where I was for a second. I gathered my thoughts and took what was a poor attempt of a focused look around. An apartment kitchen; knock-off limestone counter tops, stained stainless steel forks and spoons, knifes of all sorts forcely shoved inside the bowls and plates cupboard, overused dishwasher, rusted stove, mediocre refrigerator with a shitty ice maker, smelly mop in the gap between the fridge and wall, and dirty dishes in the sink. Everything was so out of place to the point where it annoyed me. I attempted to organize things but I gave up before I tried. You can blame the knives; well, that and I was too drunk to keep my mind straight for a second. Everyone was in costume pouring in and out of the kitchen, talking and laughing. All the costumes people were wearing were clichéd to the point of extreme dullness. A sexy nurse, a Michael Myers along with his bloody knife, a sexy devil, a couple dressed as well-known comic book superheroes, a prison escapee, a sexy honey bee - I mean, seriously, who the fuck dresses up as a bee? I, of course, dressed as a lumberjack, beard and all. My girlfriend wore a sexy cop costume so I was obliged to making any type of "arrest me, officer" jokes the whole night.

The harsh sweet aroma of marijuana exhale clouded my personal space. There was no point in getting away so I joined the circle and sucked the life out of that joint. I passed it to my right but my eyes were looking to the left. A sudden rush of tingles overwhelmed my lower extremities making me feel as if I was gliding. I stood up to lean against a wall but my mind had been so altered that I had no clear will power to make an effort of standing straight. I figured I needed to go outside for some fresh air. This stood as a challenge for me. Drunk and high; spaghetti legs with a mind rocky as a ship sailing during a storm. But the wall was there for support and I took a second to appreciate that wall as if it was my close friend holding me up. At the end of the hall I was met with two flights of stairs and the bottom seemed so far away. I, nonetheless, made the trip; careful and slowly, like walking in a temple in an Indiana Jones movie.

Once at the bottom, I searched for a worthy spot to rest and empty my insides of acidic waste that lurked within. It seemed as if my feet got heavier with each aching step I took. I felt it; the slow, thick burning liquid at the bottom of my throat. I ran in between the bushes and the parking lot next to a fenced-in generator. I hunched over and let everything out; spraying in all directions, my shoes were indulged in red chunky vomit. When the gunk stopped I felt a small hand pat me on the back. I was startled and I quickly wiped the rim of my mouth with my sleeve. I turned only to be staring down at the flushed, cute smiling face that belonged to my sexy cop girlfriend.

I stood straight as soon as I saw her; immediately and hesitantly double-wiping off any vomit residue I had around my mouth. I leaned in and looked down into her tense brown eyes. Her low breaths on my chest bounced off and simmered up into my nostrils. She was outside doing what I was doing. Her eyes weren't focused on mine how mine were on hers. So I cupped her face with both hands, paused; seemingly losing myself in her eyes. I steadied her head and gently pressed my lips against hers. We managed to trade vomit bits but we didn't stop. Instead, we smiled as we kissed and we both stopped to catch our breath. Again, I lost myself in her eyes, but this time on purpose. The feeling of going numb while staring into her eyes was something I grew to enjoy. It gave me a feeling of isolation within her world; somewhere I was privileged to be a part of. Within the madness of our intertwining worlds, I let out a low whisper of words that made her glow with bliss. A simple "I love you" always made her smile.

What came after threw me into an uncontrollable state of confusion. She didn't say it back; she didn't say anything at all. Instead, her eyes appeared different. Still. Her mouth was open but no words came out; nothing but a short choking breath. Once again I looked in her eyes hoping to indulge myself in her world but all I saw was terror and emptiness. Our surroundings grew quiet; not even crickets making a sound, nothing at all, nothing but the wind silently blowing. The bushes rattled and the trees whipped back and forth. House cats on balconies seemed to be on high alert. There were quick footsteps nearby that quickly faded into nothing. Somewhere near I could hear the music from the party; something I wasn't able to hear a while ago. Something was wrong. Then, I felt a heavy, long lingering splash of some type of liquid on my shoe. I looked down and saw red. Blood was running down from her throat and forming a red stream through her chest that it made her badge look like a red star. I stared at her and felt fear run through my body. She stood there almost frozen until she hesitated to move her hand towards her throat. She choked trying to say something I couldn't make out. Her eyes leered upon mine with shock and horror as she slowly fell towards me. Her forward motion covered me in blood and I tried catching her but failed to do so. I knew then there was nothing I could have done. Her body made a loud thump on the concrete; her blood was slowly becoming a small ocean beneath her, almost appearing as if she drowned in it. I froze. It seemed unreal; given the state I was in. Then it hit me like a spiked bat. A sudden rush of adrenaline propelled me into frenzy. I started running around hoping it would help ease the confusion. I ran from door to door, knocking and screaming for help.

I'm not sure how many doors I kicked and pounded but I figured it was enough to catch some attention. I ran back to the body thinking comfort would bring her back. I fell to my knees and flipped her body so I could see her face one more time. Even in death she managed to look as beautiful as ever. I caressed her face; pushing strands of her fallen hair behind her ear. I gently kissed her lips to see if she kissed back, but no. Maybe if I pinched her nipple she'd happily twitch like always, but no. I stared at her motionless body for what seemed an eternity.

I hear sirens.

Maybe I'm having a nightmare, I thought. I wiped the last tear from my cheek and stood up. I looked down one last time and smiled at her. It's Halloween, for fuck's sake. I know she's trying to prank me; her and her dumb friends. So I yell, loud and slurring, "Ha-HA! 'm not falling for this!" I looked around and saw a large group of people approach me. I hear gasps and sighs of devastation. "You think I'm stupid?! Wake up, babe." I gently kicked her rib cage with my boots. "Babe." I kicked her again, slightly harder, but this time on her leg. I laughed; in a manner between hysterical and maniacal. I spin around and look at the moon. It wasn't full; it was barely crescent. I stared at the moon while I spun physically and mentally while struggling to keep my balance. I stop and turn around only to be stared at by confused eyes. I start to cry again.

A sudden movement of feet and clicks made me turn around the other way. Blinded by lights; I squint and try to see what it is. I was met by a group of police officers shouting commands at me. I can't hear them. I see their mouths move but nothing comes out. I hear my heartbeat and I see the stars and the moon. I lose myself in the memories I shared with her. Then, a loud voice on a megaphone yells, "Sir. Can you hear me?" I nod, obviously annoyed, by the distraction. He says, "Okay buddy. I'm going to need you to listen to me." I nod. "I need you to put the knife down." I look at him with a confusing expression. Then I feel it. A long, sticky handle pistol-gripped on my right hand. I flick my wrist up and see how it glimmers like a burning star under the street light. I wave it in the air, in awe, feeling it as a part of my limb. Then, I hear a bang and a sharp burning pain in my stomach makes me twitch. I look down to see blood slowly oozing out only to notice the lifeless eyes of my beloved looking at me from the background. I quickly shift focus to her eyes. She looks so peaceful and I think to myself how much I want that sort of peace in my life. Without hesitation, I swiftly put the knife to my throat and slash from one end to the other. I gurgle and fall next to her. I hear fading footsteps approach me and I look at the moon while I take my last breath.

Submitted October 03, 2016 at 11:45PM by VictorVonDoom47 http://ift.tt/2dyWE5R DarkTales

The Nuclear Incident on Bumblebee Lane DarkTales

The sirens started blaring at around 2:30 a.m. It was high-pitched and piercing not unlike a fire alarm going off inside of a building. Denise cursed whoever decided a test of the emergency weather system was a wise decision so early in the morning. I agreed, still shaking off the grogginess of sleep, and went to look out the window to see what the commotion was all about.

Everything appeared normal. The branches and leaves of the trees in front our house were still. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky either. The crescent moon hung in the sky accompanied by some scattered stars. The neighborhood was as tranquil as always for this time of night. There wasn’t a single car coming up or down the road either. The only stir of activity was almost every house on the block had a bedroom light on.

“Everything okay out there?” Denise asked from underneath the covers.

“Yeah, seems fine,” I replied turning away from the window.

“Then why the fuck are they still blasting that God damned siren?” Denise shouted, turning over, and punching her pillow.

It was a good question. Our neck of the Pine Lands in New Jersey wasn’t known for extreme weather aside from wildfires. Two years ago, 1500 acres had been lost in a massive forest fire. The smoke swirled across three counties and the smell of the burning trees reached all the way to Northern New Jersey and supposedly, even New York City. Denise and I had been forced to evacuate as we were directly in its path. However, they contained it before it could reach our neighborhood.

I dismissed the idea right away. There was nothing left to burn near us and we would have smelled the smoke in the air as soon as we woke up. The next thought was a tornado but those are rare. They barely even register as worrisome. They’re nothing like the monstrous tornados out in the Midwest, ripping up houses from their foundation and killing hundreds of people.

“No idea,” I answered, shaking my head. “It’ll probably stop as soon,” I added while crawling back into bed. Denise groaned and rolled back over to her side of the bed. A minute or two later, the sirens stopped.

“Thank God!” Denise muttered and turned over. I followed her lead and adjusted myself too. It was then our cellphones began to screech with the sound of an emergency alert.

“The fuck!” Denise shouted. She tossed the blanket off and reached out to her cell phone on her dresser.

“What now?”

“It says to get to the nearest television, radio, or computer with internet connection, or wait for further text messages for instruction,” Denise read aloud. A chill overcame me. The thought of another wildfire came to mind. Was the rest of the forest on fire now too? I turned over to my dresser and grabbed the television remote. The dormant television came to life and flooded the room in a dim light. We both turned away a moment to allow our eyes to adjust to the brightness. A man’s calm voice spoke through the television speaker. We caught him at the end of his sentence.

“-se remain calm. Instructions will follow.” Beep. “This is the Emergency Action Notification System: Please stand by for directions. This is not a test. This is a national emergency. Please remain calm. Instructions will follow. Beep”

My heart skipped a beat as is jumped into my throat and then sank back into my stomach like an out of control elevator. The voice repeated the same message over and over again along with the stupid beep at the end. The message scrolled across the bottom of the screen too in white letters over a black bar. The sirens began wailing again in the distance and the emergency buzzing on the cell phones started again. Mine could be heard downstairs since I hadn’t shut off the ringer.

“My parents!” Denise shouted over the chorus of emergency.

“Shit,” I replied feeling stupid for not thinking about them sooner. Denise’s mother was confined to a wheel chair. Her father could narrowly manage them on normal days, let alone during a national emergency. She rolled across the bed and grabbed her cell phone. She silenced the infernal emergency buzz and dialed her parent’s house.

“Call couldn’t be completed,” Denise said. She called again and got the same message.

“The network is probably overloaded with calls,” I realized.

“Try yours,” Denise commanded. I scrambled out of bed and ran downstairs. My phone shrieked alone on the kitchen counter. I followed her lead and tried dialing her parents. Same result. I dialed my parent’s number instead and got the same automated message. Everyone was, understandably, trying to reach their loved ones. I could do nothing else but send a text message to them and hope it grows through at some point.

Running into our office, I tried going online and met a similar result. The internet connection slowed to an agonizing crawl. Websites wouldn’t load. Error messages displayed after the sites took minutes to load. It was useless.

My last resort was the old Boombox radio in the garage. I tried turning it on, forgetting the batteries in it had died decades ago. Bringing it inside the kitchen, I pulled it into the wall, and it crackles to life with static. Moving the dial from station to station, each of them repeated the same message the television had been playing. We had no other choice but to wait for the broadcast to change.

After a few more minutes of turning the dials, I turned it off, and went into the bedroom. Denise was dressed in jeans, a Phillies t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. She’d laid out some clothes for me on the bed and was finishing up with packing a bag for us.

“We need to get to my parents. They’re probably freaking out,” Denise cried while running into the bathroom and returning with our toothbrushes.

“Why don’t we wait to find out what’s happening before we start moving?” I suggested, hoping to calm her frantic pace.

“I don’t care what’s happening. We need to get there,” Denise countered back.

The sirens stopped.

After getting accustomed to their constant blaring, the silence felt eerie. The television flickered. Writing scrolled across the screen and an electronic male voice began to read aloud again:

“Please stand by for an address by the President of the United States followed by pertinent information from your local authorizes. This is not a test. This is a real emergency. Please remain calm. Remain in your homes. Non-emergency personnel will be detained if found in the streets. Do not use cellular phones or landlines as emergency responders may not be able to communication vital information. The President of the United States will address the nation in 10 minutes. Please stand by…”

The voice repeated as a countdown on the side of the screen ticked down to zero. Denise stood frozen in place with tears in her eyes and a fingernail at the edge of her mouth. She watched the television with a thousand yard stare and trembled. Taking the toothbrushes from her hands and placing them into the bag, I wrapped my arms around my wife and squeezed. It brought her back to reality as she embraced me back. She let out a sob and then a pained groan of agony. “Come on, honey, let’s go to them. Fuck what the television says. If anyone has a problem, we’ll tell them we’re heading to your parent’s. They need help from able bodied people. They’ll probably escort us to them,” I reassured her.

Denise gathered herself and kissed me before disappearing back into the closet after parting with me. Not wanting to waste any time, I slide across the bed and began unlocked our safe. Gathering our important documents like our birth certificates, titles, and insurances forms was secondary to the handgun and ammo inside. Whatever was happening, I wasn’t about to leave the house unarmed.

Placing our documents and the handgun into the bag, I went into the kitchen and gathered up food and water into a shopping bag. Once it was full, I grabbed my car keys and loaded the bag into the backseat of my Lancer. As I tossed the bag, Denise shouted out the bedroom window for me to come back inside.

Dashing back inside, I made a mental note to get more food and water from the basement refrigerator and the pantry. I charged upstairs to find the countdown clock was ticking down the final ten seconds. We watched together like it was a New Year’s countdown except when it reached zero, there would be no kissing or celebrating. Only grave news waited.

As the graphic ticked to zero, my heart was pounding. I let out my breath, not realizing I’d been holding it. The broadcast flickered on and off again and a voice came on over the airwaves. It was the voice of a woman who seemed to be trying her best to maintain her composure.

A few sobs escaped her as she read:

“Residents of Monroe County, Salem County, and Crystal County, we are experiencing a national emergency. This is not a test. This is a real emergency. Please remain calm. Do not leave your homes. All vehicles and people found outside will be…shot on sight.”

"Please do not use telephone or cellular services at this time. Heavy volume will prevent emergency responders from helping those in need. Please relocate to the most interior room of your home. Stay away from windows and heavy objects. If you have a basement, please relocate there and await further instructions. Prepare yourself with as much food, water, and medication as you can gather in a limited time. We do not know how long the situation will last. Please stand by for an emergency press conference from the President of the United States.”

The woman stopped reading and the sound of her heavy breathing could be heard. Unintelligible voices in the background spoke to each other. The tone in the voices sounded authoritative and commanding like how police officers or drill instructors speak.

“Steven! Nicole! Mommy loves you!”

A scuffle broke out over the air. A sickening thud crackled over the speakers as the woman’s cry rang out. “Cut the mic”, an authoritative voice commanded. The struggle escalated as the woman screamed. “We don’t time for this shit,” the authoritative voice declared. “NO!” the woman cried. There was a click and a gunshot followed. The woman’s scream was cut short. Thumps and crackling static followed as if someone was touching the microphone.

“Cut the feed!” the voice commanded. Then feed cut moments later.

We sat dumbfounded staring at the screen. I hadn’t realized how hard I’d been holding Denise’s hand. My fingers cracked as I released her hand. The rest of Denise followed me. She put her arms around me and cried onto my shoulder. There was absolutely nothing we could do for her parents. They were on their own.

I wasn’t in much better shape either. I simply couldn’t believe soldiers of the United States Armed Forces would have the tenacity to execute a citizen on live television. Even if the woman was doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing, there was no reason for it. My anger at the situation was dwarfed by how confused and helpless I felt. But most of all, I was scared about what was happening. Despite the repeated warnings, we still didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. Even as the woman was executed, we still had no idea what was happening.

Denise released me from her grasp and went to the window facing the neighborhood. Two cars raced down the street heading toward the main road out of the neighborhood. The rest of the neighborhood was scrambling back and forth packing vehicles I’d been doing earlier. Perhaps, they had the right in trying to leave.

“Let’s get the stuff from the basement and pack up the car,” I suggested while grabbing the bag that she had packed earlier.

“You heard what they said,” Denise protested.

“Your parents need us. Even if we run into anyone, maybe they won’t shoot on sight. They’re not all animals like the people on the television,” I replied.

She considered the suggestion before nodding and heading out the bedroom door. I grabbed the bag of clothes and headed downstairs again. Denise had packed two more shopping bags full of food. I took the other bags and placed them outside in the car again before heading inside once more. Staying proactive helped us snap out of the paralyzing fear gripping us. The television blared with the emergency broadcast alarm as we went up and down the stairs bringing down some last minute items we thought about before shutting the curtains, turning off the lights, and making sure our windows were locked before finishing up downstairs.

Denise was already unloading the basement refrigerator while I went over to the couch and turned on the television. The emergency broadcast alarm still blared its terrifying alarm. I flicked through the channels hoping a news network or a local station was broadcasting more information. There was no such luck. All the channels had been hijacked by the emergency system.

“Monroe, Salem, and Crystal County. That’s weird, isn’t it?” Denise asked as she removed the last bottle of water from inside the fridge and shut the door.

“Maybe we’re getting our signal from somewhere else?” I replied.

“They said it was local,” Denise countered.

“Local for someone else maybe,” I responded unsure of anything anymore. Where the signal originated was the least of my worries. The emergency broadcast system stopped leaving the buzzing sound still lingering in my ear like tinnitus. A live broadcast of a press conference came on. A podium with the Presidential Seal, stood empty at the center of the screen.

“The President isn’t at the White House,” Denise said before I could.

A suited man approached the podium. He was a ghostly shade of white. I didn’t recognize him, but then again, I was never interested in politics. I could tell who the President and Vice President were, but otherwise every suited, fake smiling, politician looked the same to me. The man was sweating bullets. He looked uncomfortable as he set himself up at the podium. He cleared his throat and placed his attention on the camera. Seeming more at ease, he locked his eyes on it as if he found comfort in the camera’s sight. His eyes were pale blue cut straight into your soul. A sullen look took over his face as he spoke:

“Good morning, my fellow Americans. It is with the deepest sorrow and regret that one of the greatest fears of our times has been realized on this day, which shall never be forgotten in human history. Nuclear armaments have been launched against territories of the United States and are currently on route to major population centers across the nation. Our military intelligence has confirmed the missiles originated from the Unified Kingdom of England and its allies. Rest assured this blatant and cowardly act against the United State shall not go unpunished. Our forces stationed across the world are retaliating tenfold against our enemies across all their colonies in Europe and Africa.”

“Military intelligence predicts the nuclear weapons will detonate in our greatest population centers making it a certain that many lives will be lost today. For the moment, we must prepare ourselves for the coming future. The Vice President, Congress, and the Supreme Court have been relocated to underground bunkers for their protection. Rest assured after this crisis passes, there will still be a government running these United States and rebuilding a new future for this nation.”

“All citizens are encouraged to take the appropriate actions to survive this attack. Your local authorizes should be providing instructions after my announcement has concluded. If possible, try to have a battery operated radio so you can be up to date with information as it is given. Do not leave your shelters until the all clear signal has been given. Follow the instructions given by emergency management personnel. Stay calm. Assist your fellow man throughout this crisis. Do not lose hope. While this attack may cripple us, this does not mean we have been defeated. We will survive, we will endure, we will retaliate, and we will emerge victorious. God help us all. God bless these United States.”

The man stepped away from the podium, closed his eyes, and put together his hands together. He dropped to a knee and prayed aloud reciting “Our Father” and crossing himself when he finished. The President took a deep breath before giving one last glance at the camera. Those pale blue eyes were filled with guilt, sadness, and loss.

The camera panned back and revealed blast door a few yards behind the podium. A Secret Service agent struggled to pull open the dense steel door. After the suited man stepped through, the Secret Service agent took one last glance behind him, and signaled someone behind the camera’s view.

A woman stepped up to the podium where the suited man had been speaking.

“President Alban has finished addressing the nation on the nuclear crisis. We hope and pray for the survival of our people and our country. We hope the planet can bear the weight of the mistakes humanity has made today. In a moment, we will be signing off. Once we have restored the feeds, we will be brining you live coverage from the President’s bunker. This is Dana Kwai. Good luck out there. May God have mercy on us.”

The cameraman stepped into view and met Dana Kwai at the podium. They looked at the camera with tears streaming down their faces.

“I’m sorry,” the camera man uttered before putting his head down. He seemed ashamed of himself. Dana took him by the hand and led him to the steel door. The guilt was written all over his face.

As both the newscaster and the cameraman entered the bunker, the Secret Service agent put a finger to his ear and nodded.

The Secret Service agent was the last person to step through the blast door. With one last gaze, the agent gave a thumbs up, and disappeared behind the metal door as it closed. Mechanical machinery resounded through the television of the bunker locked down. The television station went back to the emergency broadcast.

“Who the hell is President Aldan?” I asked knowing Denise wouldn’t know the answer. Denise shook her head and wiped the tears from her face. I turned off the television, plunging us back into the silence.

---

The cable box clock displayed 2:55 a.m., and were on the couch in each other’s arms when we felt the earth rumble. There was a roar above us drowning out the muffled sirens. The quake knocked the television to the floor. Without hesitation, I yelled for Denise to help me drag the mattress from the extra bedroom in our basement into the bathroom.

We picked up the queen size mattress and carried it into the bathroom. It wasn’t easy with the ground shaking beneath us. Denise nearly dropped the mattress but regained her step as we navigated it into the bathtub.

“Get inside and lay flat,” I commanded. Denise did as I said and helped me place the mattress over the bathtub.

“Get the supplies,” shouted Denise as the rumbling intensified and the ground shook itself apart. I sprinted to the fridge and grabbed two of the bags without looking. Pieces of the ceiling began to fall. The house above us grumbled and creaked releasing plume of dust and dirt into the air. My knees buckled and I fell to the floor just before the bathroom door. I crawled the rest of the way to the bathtub, dragging the bags on the floor behind me. Denise lifted the mattress allowing me to roll into the tub and squeeze in next to her. She dropped the mattress and we fell into darkness huddled together as closely as possible.

The roar was muffled underneath the mattress. We could feel the earth violently shaking beneath us. It felt like a train was running overhead. The sound of windows shattering, items crashing to the ground, the house itself groaning, was followed by a deafening boom as the house caved in. The mattress sank down with the weight of the debris which had fallen on it. The mattress held sheltering us from the debris. Denise and I held each other tight. We whispered to how much we loved each other. We kissed, hugged, and cried while the chaos happening on the other side of the mattress came to a crescendo.

After what felt like hours, the ground stopped shaking and the world seemed to quiet down. The roar was gone, the sirens stopped blaring, and the only sound we heard was our own breathing.

“Is it over?” I asked Denise knowing that she wouldn’t have any idea.

“I don’t know,” she replied. I tried to push the mattress off the tub and found it wouldn’t budge. Denise joined me in pushing with hands and feet as well but the debris was too heavy. Our safe haven had now become a tomb. With no success, we laid in the tub in silence contemplating a plan.

“Holy crap, it’s hot in here,” complained Denise. I would have assumed it was our body heat getting trapped underneath the mattress. It wasn’t the case. The heat was rising to an almost intolerable level. Before long, both of us were gasping for air, unable to get a full breath in us. Before I realized it, Denise had passed out. I followed seconds later.

---

Denise’s light breathing was the only sound in the darkness. My hands tingled with pain, asleep from its uncomfortable positioning under my side. I had a tough time adjusting my position and moving my arms from beneath me without disturbing Denise’s sleep. Our body heat was the only bothersome aspect of the temperature now. The overbearing heat from earlier was gone. As I shifted my weight, when I elbowed Denise. She let out a startled gasp and adjusted herself in the tub like we were sleeping in our own bed like normal.

“What do we do now?” she asked drowsily.

“I guess we have to wait until someone finds us in the rubble,” I said being honest with her. I tried to push the mattress off once again and we met with the same weight trapping us from earlier.

“I don’t know if I want anyone to find us, to be honest,” Denise replied.

“Why would you say that? You want to be trapped in here?” I asked not understanding her logic.

“Of course not. It’s just that once we are free, I don’t know what else to expect. Nothing about what happened earlier was right. None of it made sense. President Alban? Who the fuck is that? The Unified Kingdoms of England? African and European colonies? They’ve been an ally to the United States of hundreds of years now. Monroe is a town, not a county in New Jersey. Crystal County doesn’t exist in New Jersey. Salem is a county, which is actually okay, but those other ones certainly were wrong,” Denise explained.

“Yeah, that was weird. I didn’t think about it too much at the time, all considering,” I replied.

“I mean imagine us getting rescued from the rubble and then being questioned about something as simple as the address to our house and not giving them the correct answer. It would seem very suspicious to anyone, they might think we’re looters or we did something to the people that live here,” Denise continued.

“I’m not sure which is preferable, a bullet to the head or a slow and painful death in a tub,” I half-joked.

“As long as we’re together, I’m happy,” Denise replied and gave me a kiss. I didn’t say it but the thought of being trapped under a mattress with her terrified me. I don’t know if she thought about the consequences of dying together in this tub. One of us was going to bite the dust first and the other would be left in tight quarters with the other’s corpse.

We spent the rest of our waking moments scuffling around attempting to stay comfortable and making plans on what to do after we were rescued. Denise wanted to visit the Caribbean Islands, if they were still viable places to visit. Nuclear fallout or post-apocalyptic societal collapses might make vacationing there difficult. It seemed strange to be discussing places in terms of existing or not.

Not only were we afraid these places being craters, but who knew if these places existed in the forms we knew. Denise got hungry and we both enjoyed the cookies and crackers she packed away in the bags. We had a gulp or two of water from our bottles, rationing our supply without even discussing it. Luckily, we didn’t have to wait long.

---

Denise and I were both asleep when we heard the muffled voices above us. I didn’t need look her in the face to know she was staring at me wide eyed and with a huge smile across her face. We both shook the mattress and shouted as loud as we could to get the attention of the people above us. There were crashes and deafening machinery drowning out our voices as we continued to make the mattress move and show signs of life. It felt like we kicked and pushed for hours against the mattress until a voice called out they saw our mattress was moving. Despite the burning of my muscles, I continued to shake the mattress and shout as loud as I could in our tiny area. Denise whooped and cheered at our luck.

A moment later, the bathtub around us was rumbling and the machinery was right above us. The springs inside the mattress popped and it sank in the middle almost crushing the both of us and then we were bathed in blinding light. Denise and I covered our sensitive eyes from the glare.

“Are you guys okay? Are either of you injured?” a gruff man’s voice asked standing above us.

“We’re fine,” Denise replied with a smile and sat up.

“Thank God!” the rescue worker praised while helping pull the rest of the mattress off us. The man with the gruff voice jumped out of the excavator and came running over with a med kit in hand, although we didn’t need it. Stretching our legs and standing felt incredible. My house was in shambles all around me. Denise gasped and pointed across the street to all the houses still standing untouched.

“Who is the President of the United States?” Denise asked the rescue worker who stared at her as if she was insane.

“Um, Barrack Obama, miss. Are you sure you are okay?” the rescue worker replied. Denise and I smiled at each other knowing things were back to normal. The man with the medical kit came over to us and did a quick examination. Denise and I were okay except for the sore muscles. That was nothing compared to what our fate could have been. Many of our neighbors were out on the streets watching us with big bright smiles. They began walking over to our disaster area ignoring the yellow caution tape sealing off the property.

“What happened?” I asked both of the men hoping they could provide some answers to our warped situation. The man in the excavator shrugged and the rescue worker replied:

“I was hoping you could shed some light on that, sir. A few hours ago, folks from the neighborhood called emergency services and reported hearing a massive explosion coming from your house. They said that the house was completely leveled. When the police, fire department, and ambulances arrived, there was absolutely nothing left standing of your house. We saw there was a car buried in the garage and a car in the driveway and assumed you were still inside the house when it happened. We’ve been working around the clock to clear out the rubble and here we are now. We were hoping that you could tell us what happened,” the rescue worker explained

“We were in the basement and suddenly the ground began to shake beneath us like it was the end of the world,” Denise began explaining and then gave me a look indicating she didn’t know where to go from there.

“The house was groaning and shaking so hard that I didn’t think we’d have time to escape so I grabbed the mattress and tossed it over us. Luckily, Denise was able to grab a couple bottles of water and a box of crackers before we hid away,” I finished the story hoping they wouldn’t pursue it any further. Both men shook their heads in agreement.

“Yeah, the neighbors reported feeling the ground trembling before your house crumbled on top of you. You guys were really lucky!” the excavator commented. Just as he finished his sentence, a few of the neighbors reached us and we were swept up in the commotion. There was lots of well-wishes and people asking us if we were okay. After a half an hour, Denise and I excused ourselves telling everyone we needed to head over to Denise’s parent’s house since we didn’t have a place to stay. We thanked everyone and the emergency worker gave us a lift.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Denise's parents welcomed us into their home and gave us a guest room for the night. We didn't have a chance to discuss everything which happened until we were in bed. Despite our exhaustion, our conversation energized us well into the early morning. We vowed never to tell anyone what happened, for fear of them thinking we were crazy.

Denise and I rarely ever speak about it anymore. I think she wants to forget it happened and I don't blame her. It was a traumatic experience and thinking about it only leads to questions we'll never have answers to. Personally, I think the nuclear blast may have caused some sort of distortion in the time and space continuum bringing us into a parallel dimension. I've been reading up on theories of multiple dimensions, String Theory, and parallel world's trying to figure out how it all happened. The specifics don't make sense to me at all yet I feel at peace with it. I'll never truly know what happened and I've come to terms with the experience. I'll never know if I'll experience it again and I hope to God I don't.

HG

More HG Stories

Submitted October 02, 2016 at 09:38AM by Human_Gravy http://ift.tt/2dxLzyy DarkTales

They wait DarkTales

Today I let my alarm beep for two hours. A new world record. I laid in bed with a full bladder and a severe case of crotch rotch. You know that perfect equilibrium of musk and stank that men accumulates, by not bathing. I laid there in my filth, just listening to that inferno nuclear war-like, warning of a ringtone.

Yep, two hours is my limit. The trifecta of stank, having to piss, and the migraine that baked to the sound of my alarm ringing got me out of bed. I almost broke my phone into pieces. Would have too if I didn't have to run to the toilet. Afterwards I took what had to be my first shower in weeks. Just like I did the last time I cleaned myself, I fell to my knees and wept. I didn’t have to look up. Through the steam and shower curtain I could feel her tiny eyes watching me. Always watching. I stood up and screamed. “Say something, God damn it!”

Of course, like always only silence was returned. I turned the shower off and numbly stepped out. I almost slipped on the wet, dirty linoleum. I braced myself with the sink. I reached over and grabbed the cleanest looking towel from a hanging shelf. The small Asian girl didn’t move as my arm had to pass through her head to grab the towel. As always I got the cold chills, like placing a wet arm through a deep freezer. Her eyes followed me as I left the bathroom. I changed into red jogging pants and a green sweater. My last two remaining pieces of clean clothes. I looked around my filthy home. It was just a matter of time before I lose this palatial house. I haven’t paid my mortgage in the last six months.

I thought back to my wife walking through the empty rooms, waving her arms around, planning where she would hang this painting, where she would place the credenza. The other couples at the open house were giving us the evil eye. No matter we laughed. We knew this house would be ours. After all, we were putting down half the asking price for the six bedroom Victorian style three story. It was once so full of warmth and happiness. Now it was silent as a tomb. And just as filled with dead things.

I opened the refrigerator, the old woman with the half burned face was waiting inside. No matter how many times I see the old bat I still yelped and jumped out of my socks. “God damnit!” I grunted as I reached for one of the cartons of milk that was only lightly expired. I slammed the refrigerator door on her.

I glanced at the wall clock. It was almost 3 P.M. My wife would soon make her appearance. I sighed as I made a bowl of Frosted Flakes. I flicked a few moldy pieces out of my bowl and ate. I thought about my finances. My savings has been depleted for a week now. For the first time in my adult life, I had no income coming.

My mother had carefully suggested that I finally file my insurance claim. I turned to the refrigerator. The unsigned document hung by a small magnet. The magnet was a circle picture of my two boys. Taken on a field trip to the Smithsonian. They both smiled at me from the picture. Those faces had so much hope and dreams in them. I picked the magnet up, letting the document fall and spread out on the floor. I cupped their tiny faces in my palm and placed it over my heart. I opened my hand and looked at their faces again.

Tears welled in my eyes. I knew that when I look up I will see their grotesque, swollen and knotted faces staring at me. I sighed and placed the magnet back. I picked the document up and walked past my two sons, as they stood hand and hand in front of the dining table. Blood had already starting to pool around their feet. I walked back to my bedroom. The little girl who always waits in my bathroom had actually stepped out into the hallway. Our eyes locked. Well I should say my eyes locked into her eye. Her left one was hanging by a bloody vein. It gently swayed in a breeze that didn’t exist. “This is a first. Will you always wait in the hallway? Because that would just be great for my bowel movements!”

Expecting no answer as usual, and not getting one I closed my bedroom door and slumped back into bed. At the foot of my bed stood Angry Black. Well that is what I call him. I know that is racist but I didn’t know how else to refer to him. It wasn’t like he would ever tell me his name. And I have had people stand next to him, I have tried to take his picture and video record him. Nothing. No one can see him and his picture cannot be taken. So Angry Black is his name. Out of all the apparitions, he was the only one who showed any emotions. It was Angry Black that I communicated with the most. I would tell him about my nightmares and discuss the intricate difference between malt and rye.

Angry Black as always, stood there seething at me silently. He was tall with a bald head and a goatee. I can tell in life he was considered very handsome. He was also the most put together apparition. With only a lightning bolt crack running down the front of his head. You can barely see his brain. His mouth was pulled back in an angry sneer.

I looked at him thoughtfully. “What are you saying to me now Angry Black? Are you cursing at me for answering my phone? For taking my eyes off the road for a split second?” Do you curse at me for taking away your loved ones? Which is it? The Asian child in my hallway? The old lady in the kitchen? The tall blond lady in my garage? Or maybe you hate me because your loved ones is still alive. But you’re stuck here with me.” I reached for the glass on the small table next to the bed. I practically inhaled the last of my scotch.

I cursed. I would have to leave the house to buy more drinks. Maybe even get some food and laundry detergent this time. I instantly remembered my money issue. The issue being I don’t have any more. I placed the empty glass down and picked up the insurance paper. I have read it over a thousand times. Still, my eyes go to the same paragraph, ‘By signing this agreement, you are hereby absolving B.M.W. of any responsibility and fault to include any future judgment and/or settlements’ I picked a pen up. I hovered over the signature line. I dropped the pen and cursed again.

“Absolve!” I rolled my eyes. I looked at Angry Black. He was pointing at me this time. “I should be in jail, Angry Black.” My mother made sure that didn’t happen. Even after I cried into her lap like a child and blubbered how my carelessness took 7 innocent lives. She slapped me and told me that no son of hers will ever go to jail. She used the lawyers from our company. They went after the car manufactures, the emergency responders even the families of the victims. All to ensure that no Hamilton will ever have to spend not even 1 day, answering for their crimes.

It was three o’clock now. Time to see my wife. I left the bedroom. Angry Black silently stabbed daggers into me with his eyes. I walked downstairs. The winding staircase presented the double doors of the front entrance. She was standing there of course. Her hair was greasy with blood. The impact of the crash dented the front of her face. A jagged tooth was pushed out through one of her cheeks. “Hi baby.” I quietly greeted her. As she always did she had her hands folded over her chest. As if she was hiding some great secret from me. I sat on the stairs and watched her. She swayed back and forth on the balls of her feet. Much like she would do in life. Especially if music was playing. No matter what she was doing, she would sway to any music subconsciously.

I reached into my pocket and pulled my phone out. I thumbed through an app and selected it to play music downstairs. Radiohead started to pulsate out from the tiny speakers in the corner of the walls. It was her favorite band. Even if she could smile in response her face was warped and bloody. Pieces of her tongue littered her neck. I cried again. “Glenda, I don’t think I can take it anymore. I know a price must be paid. I know what I have done. I deserve this and more. I am too much of a coward to end it. If I know you would be waiting for me on the other side with the kids, I would…” I paused. In my other pocket just like always was the small snub nose pistol that I inherited from my grandfather.

I have had the barrel against my head, in my mouth, and under my chin too many times. I pulled it out. “Just nod or shake your head. Wink to me. Give me any indications that this is what you want!” I pleaded. She swayed silently holding her hands against her chest. I dropped the gun. As always nothing. Soon she would disappear. She was the only one who appeared and disappeared in regular intervals. Even her deformed and bloody form was my only sliver of happiness each day. She started to fade away.

I ran to her. My hand passed through her shoulders. “Glenda! Please! Give me some indication. Talk to me! I would willing go to hell right now if I could be with you and the boys!” I screamed in frustration at her silence. A trickle of blood and teeth fragments drippled down her sideways mouth. I dropped my hands to my side and sighed. She stop swaying back and forth. I froze. This was a new movement from her. Just like the Asian girl in the bathroom, something different was happening today! “Glenda! What is it! Show me! Tell me! Please!” She opened her hands. I gasped as I looked down.

She held a bloody bean in her hand. No. No, God, no! Tiny black stalks of eyes protruded from its tiny head. I backed away. She looked up at me, extended both hands out as if presenting a gift to me. I screamed. She took a step forward. I backed into the steps my hands brushing the cold steel of the gun. I pointed it at her as she took another step towards me. The small form in her hands twitched. I killed 8 people! There are prolific serial killers who haven’t taken as many lives as I have. I pointed the gun at her. “God damnit! Stay away from me Glenda!” Why wasn't she disappearing as she usually does?

I squeezed three shots off. The glass on the doors broke as the bullets passed through her. She continued to approach me. She leaned down towards me as if I was to pick up the small chunk of our child. No! I screamed again.

This time I didn’t hesitate, I didn’t overthink it, I didn’t try to fight. Everything I ever heard about suicide is bullshit. I felt everything. The hot bullet erupting in my ear. My brain separating as the bullet dug a path though my head. My eyes still functioned as I watched my brain matter and blood seep from the tiny hole. I lay at her feet. She didn’t disappear, she didn’t move. She waited. Now, I too watch. The gun held in my hand still smoking. Blood and sinew cascaded from the side of my head. My mother screaming at me to say something, to say anything, to leave her in peace. I ignore her of course. I watch. I wait.

The End

Submitted August 16, 2016 at 03:37AM by Xerede http://ift.tt/2bvqZSo DarkTales

To be young and healthy again DarkTales

Eugene sat on a bench in a sunny park, watching the vibrant young people bustling around him. They were all clearly office workers who were escaping on their lunch breaks to enjoy the beautiful day. Eugene, having just turned 77 years-old and thus retired a decade ago, missed working. He missed having a purpose. He never married or had kids. His friends all passed away. He didn’t have much to do except sit and watch the foolish young people who took for granted the fact that their entire lives were ahead of them. That’s all Eugene wanted: to go back and do it all over again.

He had been watching Liam for months now, an attractive 20-something professional who always seemed to be surrounded by friends and lovely women. Many decades ago, an entity had granted Eugene one wish of his choosing. He had been holding onto it, scared to wish for the wrong thing. It was finally time to use it.

“I wish to trade places with that fellow over there,” Eugene whispered softly, eyes locked onto Liam’s handsome face. “Let me be young again.”

He could hardly wait. No more aching joints. No more envying youth. No more loneliness and boredom.

The next morning, he awoke feeling euphoric. He found himself in a trendy apartment with expensive-looking furniture. Photos lined the wall showing happy moments. He found the nearest mirror and stared at the attractive young face looking back at him. He had gotten his wish. He sobbed wildly with relief.

After a short adjustment period, Eugene decided to visit a doctor for a check-up. Some unsettling symptoms had started to hit him almost immediately after the change; his skin looked discolored and his stomach ached constantly. He found a business card on the refrigerator and decided to start there.

“What can I do for you today, Liam?” the doctor asked as he entered the office Eugene was waiting in.

“I’d like a check-up,” Eugene answered.

The doctor gaped at him with a puzzled look on his face. “But you’ve just had a check-up. And we’ve discussed your results in great detail. Did you have more questions about your diagnosis?”

“What diagnosis?” Eugene asked, his heart thumping in his chest.

The doctor nodded sadly. “Every patient deals with a prognosis like yours differently. Some need to hear it a few times to believe it. Liam, I’m referring to your stage three pancreatic cancer.”

Eugene’s abdomen hurt worse than ever.

---

Even though several months had passed, Liam was still recovering from the shock of that morning when he awoke to find himself in the body of a 77 year-old man. However, there was one thing that was helping him to get over it. He had visited a doctor for a check-up and found that despite the normal effects that come along with aging, he was pretty healthy. His jolly doctor had said enthusiastically: “Keep up like this and you’ll have another 20 years ahead of you!”

Twenty years. The last doctor he spoke with had grimly told him he had about a 3% chance of seeing his 30th birthday. Liam smiled. “I’m old as fuck,” he said, staring at his wrinkled face in the mirror. “But I’m healthy.”

Submitted April 15, 2016 at 08:24PM by sp00kyscary http://ift.tt/1V6CM9R DarkTales

The Eyestalk Kid DarkTales

The Eyestalk Kid by Al Bruno III

It began a year ago, on the third day of the Altamont Fair. It’s funny, we’d to the fair all the time when we were kids but you know how it is when you grow up; you trade the merry go rounds and ferris wheels for productivity meetings and marketing reports. Timothy and I had no children. We had a hard enough time keeping our marriage and careers on an even keel, a rug rat would have been a disaster.

Considering everything that's happened I’m glad we made that decision.

Like I said, we went to the fair-, Timothy and I and our best friends Chris and Danielle. We were all in our middle thirties, our stomachs were too weak for the really exciting rides and our minds were too cynical for the games of chance. There was still plenty to do and see though. There were crafts, classic cars and livestock displays and if we stayed till midnight there would be fireworks. And of course there was the food, cotton candy, caramel apples, deep fried Snickers and gyros.

Actually only the boys got the gyros, Danielle and I stayed behind rolling our eyes. They’d just got done saying how full they were but the sight of the girl working the gyro stand fired up their ‘appetites’. She was barely legal and barely dressed. We let them have their fun, the girl wouldn’t dress like that if she didn’t want to be ogled right? Besides the look on their faces when they actually tried to eat those half burnt things was worth it.

We might have called it a night right there if one of us hadn’t spotted the black tent.

It was squat and wide with an ugly hand-painted banner that read ’Dr. Tarr and Mr. Fether's Cavalcade of Oddities’ and beneath that in all capital letters was ‘FEATURING AUDIENCES WITH THE EYESTALK KID FOUR TIMES A DAY!’. Beneath that was this ugly image of a snail with a little boy’s face.

“What’s an Eyestalk Kid?” I asked.

“We could find out.” Chris said, “I’ve never seen a real freak show.”

“Me either,” my husband replied.

It was ten bucks a head to get in. The babushka-wearing woman working the ticket booth frowned when we asked her to break a hundred and asked if we had something smaller. We didn’t so she transformed the act of making change into a minor tantrum. “Does your boss know you treat your customers like this?” Dannielle said.

“Ah am Docta Tahh,” she shot back, “Ah am the boss smahtass!”

We should have turned back right then, told her to take her cavalcade of human oddities and shove it but I think we all thought her performance was a put on, a part of the show. All our stories of visiting the freak tent would begin with the part about the crazy lady working out front.

The inside of the tent was lit by clusters of christmas lights. Canvas partitions divided one part of the tent from the other. Each of those cramped fabric-walled rooms held it’s own display or performer. The first section of the tent was just displays, pictures of other sideshow displays from years gone by, taxidermied two-headed calves and misshapen fetuses preserved in jars of formaldehyde. Everything was streaked with grime.

From there we moved to an equally grimy waxworks display called ‘AMERICAN MONSTERS’. I was always a fan of true crime stories but if not for the signs beside each figure I wouldn’t have been able to tell their Lizzie Borden from their Ted Bundy. By the time we had shuffled past nine serial killers and one sitting President we were throughly bored.

In the next part of the tent there a banner that proclaimed ‘BEHOLD THE UNICORN- creature of legend’. The unicorn however was nothing but a deformed goat with a single horn jutting from it’s head. It bleated at us and glared from a single misshapen eye. None of us, or any of the other people that paid ten bucks to get in, were impressed.

The line moved forward again bringing us into the presence of ‘HUMAN ODDITIES - Howard Huge! Nora the Tattooed Lady! The Amazing Reginald!’

Nora the Tattooed Lady looked to be in her middle seventies and had to walk across the stage with the help of a cane. Howard Huge looked no heavier than the subject of your average reality show and he never looked up once from his smart phone. The Amazing Reginald scowled contemptuously at the audience as he bloodlessly shoved needles through his arms and face.

By the time the Amazing Regonald’s performance had reached the glass eating part of the show we were all feeling like fools. We’d been parted with our hard earned by the cash at the promise of seeing something grotesque up close and in person. We were rubes.

Timothy turned to say something to me, an apology I’m sure, when a frail looking man in a Hawaiian shirt stepped out from behind a hidden fold in the tent. “Ladies. And. Gentlemen.” He coughed wetly for a few moments before continuing, “I am Mr. Fether. I hope you have enjoyed our little production. I hope we have brought a little wonder to your otherwise humdrum lives.”

Dannielle exchanged a glance at that, a thousand sarcastic comments on our lips.

There was another long fit of coughing before Mr. Fether could speak again, “But now you stand on the precipice of a true revelation. At this moment, in a specially prepared aerobionic chamber, the Eyestalk Kid and his hermaphrodite harem await.”

No one knew what he was talking about. ‘Aerobionic chamber’? ‘hermaphrodite harem’? It was getting warm in the tent and there was a aquarium odor filtering in to the chamber. Mr. Fether drew the curtain back revealing an empty pegboard wall. There were voices chanting behind that wall, wet whispers of “…allelujah…” repeating over and over again.

After some more coughing then Mr. Fether spoke again, “For a mere fifty dollars you may gaze upon the Eyestalk Kid, you may hear one of his famous sermons and risk his blessing!”

“Fifty dollars?” Timothy said, “You want more money?”

“The Eyestalk Kid and his disciples have specific needs that require specific payments,” Mr. Fether explained, as the ’allelujahs’ grew louder and louder, “but you will find him worth every penny.”

“Let’s get out of here.” I said.

Dannielle agreed, “We’ve been suckered enough for one night.”

“Actually,” Timothy said, “I want to see this.”

“Me too,” Chris nodded.

“Oh my God!” I shouted, “Don ’t be a fool.”

Timothy blushed again, “Honey you’re making a scene.”

And everyone was watching, the Human Oddities, Mr. Fether and all the rest of the people that had been suckered into the tent. Feeling self conscious I said, “Do what you want I’ll be waiting in the car.”

Frowning but undaunted Timothy and Chris reached for their wallets, and, after giving me a guilty shrug, Danielle joined them.

I left them to it.

Half an hour went by, then an hour. I’d expected them to come slinking back to the car by then but I was still waiting and alone as the fireworks began and the parking lot began to clear out. Eventually, despite my annoyance and despite the fact I was sitting up straight in the drivers seat of my car I fell asleep.

The sound of Timothy scrambling into the seat beside me was what woke me up. He was shouting, “Go!” He said “Get us home!”

“Where were you?” I asked as Chris and Dannielle got into the back, “What took you so long?”

“We have to go home,” he said again.

Without the rows and rows of other cars and local carnies in orange vests it was hard to navigate dark, empty field that the Altamont fair used for a parking lot. Chris and Danielle were turned around in their seats the entire way to Route 146. When speeding towards Albany, Danielle made eye contact with me in the rearview mirror. It was too dark to be sure I she looked like she’d been crying, “We should have listened to you.”

I felt sick to my stomach,“What happened?” I asked, “Tell me what happened.”

“We can’t tell you what happened. It’s still happening.” Timothy had his face buried in his hands, when he spoke his voice was muffled, “I’m sorry.”

Chris started laughing, the sound was almost a scream, “Tim! I’m wearing your shirt!”

Timothy barely spoke to me the next day. He said he wasn’t feeling well so I let it pass. When I got home from the office I found him lying under the bedcovers and mumbling. He wasn’t running a temperature but his skin was clammy to the touch.

Since I had no sick time left I decided to sleep on the recliner. The next morning I found him cocooned in the blankets and sheets, everything was soaked with sweat that had a swampy odor to it. Timothy wouldn’t speak more than two words to me but those words were, “Love you.”

I started to worry he might have gotten food poisoning from that gyro slut. He could barely lift his head off the pillow so I had to call him in sick to work. His boss was really pissy about it but there was no way Timothy could even drive himself in, never mind about actually do any work.

Four times. I tried to call him four times during the course of that day but he never answered, every call went to voicemail. I tried texting his cell phone but that was no better. Right before I headed out to my last meeting of the I gave Dannielle a quick call to to see how she and Chris were doing. I barely recognized the voice that answered and the only reply to my questions was a garbled, “Go away.”

That night came home to find the refrigerator door wide open and a month’s worth of groceries either half eaten or left to spoil. Timothy was laid out in the couch, stains radiating out from him. The TV was turned to a channel that used to show nature documentaries but was now nothing but wall to wall reality shows about rednecks. I knew for a fact Timothy hated both.

He smiled thickly at me, “M’sorry. M’sorry.”
 “What’s wrong?” I knelt beside him and stroked his forehead. This flesh felt like the skin of pudding, “What happened to you?”

“Had to be there… m’sorry.”

The phone started ringing. A premonition made me want to ignore it but I didn’t believe in premonitions then.

“Hello? I said.

A watery voice said back, “Tim?”

No one called my husband Tim except for me, and even then only when we were making love. He’d always been a Timothy, ever since childhood. “Who is this?” I asked.

“M’sorry Alice. M’sorry. Chris died. Didn’t want to… Face wouldn’t forgive the mirror. Shotgun. M’sorry. Tim? Almost time to go. Go home.”

“Danielle?” I couldn’t recognize the voice. I’m still not sure it really was her but who else could have been?

The voice whispered, “The Eyestalk Kid…”

Timothy gurgled a reply from his spot on the couch, “Allelujah!” *Then he turned onto his side and vomited, with each heave of his stomach he called *“Allelujah!”

I wanted to call 911 but my fingers wouldn’t move, not when I knew the worst hadn’t happened yet.

Another premonition.

His stomach emptied my husband rolled himself off the couch landing on his stomach with a grunt of relief. His back was swollen and bowed outwards.

“Allelujah!” the voice from the phone said.

Then he put his face down in the puddle of his own sick and started slurping. With every slurp the lump on his back quivered.

“Stop it!” I screamed at him, “For God’s sake stop it!”

And he did, turning towards me to show a face that had become a mask of bile and eyes that were even more askew than before. “M’sorry.” he said again.

Then his eyes changed. The eyes I had looked into with love and anger and indifference so many times over the last seven years began to shift, slipping out of his skull on stems of writhing, pink muscle.

The last thing saw, before I fainted, was his gaping eyelids, brimming with tears. “Love you.” he said.

When I woke up hours later Timothy was gone. He’d left everything behind, his wallet, his clothes, his wedding ring. I called the police and found out they were already coming to see me. Chris was dead. They weren’t sure if it was suicide or foul play and Danielle was nowhere to be found.

They police didn’t want to hear about Dr. Tarr and Mr. Fether and the Eyestalk Kid. They’d already decided for themselves what had happened. It was an affair, my husband and my best friend. Chris had found out and it had driven him to suicide. I’d found out too and my broken heart had sent me into a delusional state.

Now it’s a year later and the Altamont Fair is back in full swing and this letter was supposed to reveal everything. It was supposed to tell you why the black tent might have been harder to find this year even though it has almost doubled in size. I was going to tell you what I saw when I paid my hundred dollars to see the Eyestalk Kid in his Aerobionic chamber. I wanted to write down word for word what he said and reveal to you he rites my body performed as my mind screamed for it to stop.

But now I know I can’t, it was hard enough for me just to write all this. I have to hit the keyboard of my laptop with bruising force just to make the letters appear. My fingers won’t hold their shape and my eyes can’t focus on what is right in front of me.

M’sorry.

Submitted November 19, 2015 at 10:08PM by thenightblogger http://ift.tt/1QPTsiu DarkTales

Casualties of the Crystal Oblivion - [1] DarkTales

Two years ago, on a warm Florida afternoon, fourteen men, eight women, and three children went into a pond on the outskirts of their small town and never came out. With more than a dozen witnesses present the congregation vanished before the very eyes of their friends, family, and the almighty God they worshiped. Not a single bystander had a notion what happened. It has remained an unsolved mystery despite the combined efforts of every investigative agency in the United State Federal government and other private organizations.

My assistant, Mark, and I have been working on the case since the day after the disappearance. In search for answers, our travels have led us to places like Roanoke, Virginia, and Popham Rock, Maine, only for us to discover a lead halfway across the world at the Archivo General de Indias (General Archive of the Indies) in Seville, Spain, where we currently reside.

Our discovery in Spain has left us with greater questions, none answerable. All hope was lost to provide closure to the families of the departed. While we await a response from our headquarters in regards to the continuation of our investigation, I’ve indulged my inner scholar with the ancient texts of antiquity from the Archives. The journals in particular captivated me.

They have provided windows into the hearts and minds of our ancestors like time capsules being opened years after interred into the ground. Their wants, needs, and desires are all incredibly similar to ours. They have inspired me to leave behind a record of my own, beyond the ownership of my employers, and easily accessible to those who may seek the knowledge I have acquired. While not as endearing and beautiful as hand written letters and musky parchment, a digital record will survive long after I have been dead and buried in the earth. God forbid if anyone should ever have need for this information.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The green light on the digital clock flashed as it was approaching midnight, when the knock came upon my trailer door. I’d been expecting my last appointment since ten o’clock and couldn’t help peaking every so often to see how long they would make me wait on this one.

As government agencies working in official capacities, I am forced to respect their higher authority. Everyone gets their turn before I am given the opportunity to speak with any witnesses. Allowing my organization access to their databases, investigations, and to participate with them doesn’t come cheap or easy. No one respected us as a credible investigative unit. They treat us like second string players on a sports team. We were always forced to wait until the big boys were finished having their fun.

The knock roused me from the paperback I’d been reading to pass the time. Two EPA scientists stood outside the door with the woman I was supposed to have interviewed hours ago. Earlier in my career, I learned turning the other cheek was the best policy. i thanked the two scientists for bringing her to me in such a timely manner, with the falsest goodwill I could muster, then invited her inside my trailer. She sat down at the tiny booth the doubled as a dining table and an interview room.

Cross armed and expressionless, she stared straight ahead toward the front of the trailer. Her eyes were cotton candy pink and puffy. Her strawberry blonde hair hung short of her shoulders unkempt. She was living through a hellish nightmare. Looks be damned.

Questioning her at this point was merely a formality. All the transcripts from her other interviews throughout the day hadn’t brought anything new to the table.

“Good morning,” I greeted her sitting down across the table from her with recorder and files in hand.

“Are you Daphne Marie Cutler?”

“Yes, sir,” she responded. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

Before giving permission, she lit the cigarette. It trembled between her fingers as the smoke floated across the table into my nostrils. It didn’t bother me if it made her feel at ease.

“I know it’s been a horrendous day and I don’t wish to keep you. I know everyone has asked you the same questions over and over again so we’ll skip the basics and jump right into the meat and potatoes. Tell me what you saw yesterday.”

Daphne took in a deep breath and sighed.

“I don’t know what happened. I don’t have any answers,” Daphne complained letting her frustration show.

“I’m not going to grill you with questions like everyone else did. I just want your story so I can send my bosses a report.”

“Yesterday was supposed to be my cousin Jeffery’s baptism,” Daphne commenced. Tears flooded her eyes and dripped down the side of her face.

“I helped my Uncle Bill and Aunt Lisa set up their house and backyard in the morning to host a party after Jeffery’s baptism. They extended the invitation to everyone in the church to come and celebrate with them. They had enough food and drinks to feed the entire town,” Daphne recalled tenderly.

“After Father Reynolds finished his sermon at the church, he invited everyone to come out to witness the baptisms he was going to perform out at this pond that was discovered a couple of days ago by some hunters on the outskirts of town. He said it was really nice and clean and that he’d seen it himself, and that it was the holiest body of water he’d ever seen.”

“It was odd since Uncle Bill and Aunt Lisa hadn’t told me about this before. When I asked them, they said they wanted it to be a surprise for everyone. Honestly, I don’t think they had planned on it. Father Reynolds must have convinced them to do it right before the sermon but I can’t be sure.”

Her gaze settled upon the tape recorder. Her mind went back in time to the family she had lost. I allowed her to linger before nudging her to continue.

“When you arrived at the pond, did you notice anything out of the ordinary?” I inquired.

“Thinking back on it now, the water was exactly like Pastor Reynolds had said it was and more. It was unreal like something out of a travel brochure for an island paradise. You could see right to the bottom and there was nothing down there. No tree branches, bugs, leaves, or anything floating below or above the surface,” she replied remorsefully. “It was perfect. I should have known there was something wrong with it!”

“Don’t blame yourself. There’s nothing you could have done,” I reassured her.

“What happened after you arrived?” I questioned knowing we’d reached the most difficult part of the interview.

“Father Reynolds, Uncle Bill, Aunt Lisa, the godparents, Frank and Jenny, my mother and father, and Jeffery, entered the water with the other people who were getting their children baptized too,” Daphne strained through her sobs and grief.

“Why didn’t you go in with the rest of them?”

“It’s not because I didn’t wanna go in. Trust me, I would have been in there with them if I could have,” Daphne responded with a shiver.

“Any reason you didn’t go in?”

“I had my lady time,” she responded, blushing red.

“You just never know what details maybe may be relevant”, I pretended to jest and feeling like I was blushing too. “So what happened next?”

“Everyone went into the water and Father Reynolds led the ceremony. I could hear him but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Part of it was the distance from where I stood but for the most part, it was because there were some kids playing alongside the pond. They were being loud and obnoxious with no one to telling them to hush up since their family was in the water with mine. Then I heard one of them let out a holler and turned to see what had happened.”

“A little girl had tripped over this stone on the ground and had taken a tumble. She was holding her knee and wailing up a storm. She was more scared than hurt so I turned my attention back to the water and then…,” Daphne trailed off trying to make sense of the unexplainable.

“I couldn’t believe my eyes. I know what I saw but I just can’t accept it. The Pastor was dipping one of the kids beneath the water and everyone was all happy and cheering them on. Then all of a sudden, it was like the water swallowed them up and everyone went under. It was like flipping a light switch. There one second. Gone the next. No arms flailing. No splashes. No one crying for help. Nothing. Just crystal clear, motionless water, right where all my family had been standing,” Daphne choked out.

“What happened next?” I placed my hand on hers and squeezed. She took another puff of the depleted cigarette. The gesture seemed to bring her back to reality.

“Jimmy Howe ran to the water but as soon as he jumped in, it looked like he…just…I don’t even know how to explain it. He looked like he’d fallen straight through. The water didn’t move or splash. How the heck can it do that? How? It makes no sense!” she struggled slamming her empty fist onto the table.

“A few other folks went running to help him out but no one dared follow him in. The most they could do was put a tree branch into the water to see if Jimmy would grab it. As soon as the branch went in, it wouldn’t come back out, like it was cemented into the water, if that makes any sense. No one knew what to do after. Someone called the sheriff and a few officers showed. All they did was tell everyone to stay away from the water and close off the area until you people showed up. Now I’ve been stuck telling this fucking story over and over again and not getting anywhere closer to getting my family back!” Daphne roared. She extinguished the last of her cigarette, snuffing it out in the ashtray.

Her anger was justified. Yet, there was nothing I could offer to alleviate her frustration.

“I guess we’re done unless you want to add anything else?” I asked with my finger on the recorder.

“That’s everything,” Daphne responded and lit up another cigarette. I clicked the recorder off and leaned back in the chair. The toughest part of the job was finished. The interview would need to be uploaded and emailed later. It wasn’t a concern at the moment. The pack of cigarettes on the table caught my attention. Daphne pushed it to me and offered me a light. With all the strange things I’ve seen and dealt with in my life, cancer sticks were the least of my worries.

As we smoked together, we discussed the secondary goal of my unit which was offering assistance to those affected by “unnatural events” like these.

Psychological, monetary, and spiritual help were all covered and most people needed help with all three when forces beyond their understanding were involved. Those kids making a ruckus by the Pond had no parents to take care of them anymore. Daphne didn’t have a family either. Helping them was the most satisfying part of the job.

“Can I ask you a question, Father?” Daphne requested as the flame lit the tip of another cigarette.

“If it’s about the smoking, there’s nothing in the rule book saying we can’t do it,” I squelched in anticipation of the incoming question.

“Well, that’s not it, but that would have been my second,” Daphne affirmed rolling her eyes.

“Go ahead.”

“Do you think God took them to Heaven or something? Maybe they were Raptured?”

“There is a possibility but I wouldn’t set my heart on it. At this point, you know more than anyone else since you witnessed what happened. As far as I know, well…I don’t know much of anything,” I explained hoping she would understand. Her disappointment was written all over her face. I felt it in my heart too. I was no stranger to feeling powerless. We are all vulnerable to a world we shall never understand.

“I have another question,” Daphne stated.

“You don’t need permission, go right on ahead,” I replied.

“Do you have anything to drink?”

She parsed her dried lips together. I nodded feeling foolish I hadn’t offered her anything when she first came in. I grabbed two Coke’s and a lime from the refrigerator and a bottle of Brugal 1888 from the pantry. Daphne’s eyes widened as I grabbed a couple of glasses and made us some Cuba Libres.

“Are you really a priest? Pastor Reynolds never drank or smoked. I thought you guys couldn’t do that,” she pondered.

“There’s no rule in the Good Book against smoking or drinking. Jesus drank wine. Everyone did back then. Read John: 2, The Wedding at Cana. The Virgin Mary tells Jesus to restock the wine at wedding after the host runs out at the end of the feast. This is actually the first of seven public miracles he performs. You don’t think Jesus had couple drinks with his buddies?”

She nodded and took a sip of her drink before putting her head down on the table. The poor girl was the epitome of exhaustion. She sighed, spinning the stirring rod around in the drink.

“Father, please tell me what’s really happening. No one answers any of my questions,” she begged, picking her head up from the table.

“I can only tell you what I know for certain and like I said before, it isn’t much,” I answered.

“You have to know something. Someone has to know something!” Daphne begged.

“There are people working around the clock trying to figure out what happened. Once they know something, I’ll get the report and I promise I’ll let you know right away,” I comforted.

It was unfortunate I had to lie to Daphne and everyone else I had interviewed. They were all friendly and honest, hardworking people whose families and friends had been caught up in some part of the universe that deviated from God’s Plan. At least, that is the manner I am required with which to approach the situation. Quite frankly, I’m not sure if there was a grand cosmic plan from the start.

The sliver of information on the Pond wasn’t useful. Photographs taken via aerial drone showed nothing except a small body of water like any other. Sonar didn’t’ work. Sound waves could be sent in and nothing bounced back. If the instruments were functioning correctly, our “Pond” was supposedly bottomless. It made no sense since all witness testimony placed the victims waist high in the water at the time of their disappearance.

The grounds surrounding the water were free of biological and chemical contaminants. All attempts at extracting the water have gone unsuccessful. Once something goes in, it doesn’t come back out. According the geological surveys and hydro-geologists, there were no underground water reserves responsible for the phenomena either.

“Right now, we’re all stumped. It’s not to say we won’t figure it out tomorrow or the day after,” I said then took a generous sip of my drink savoring the dry, age rum and the sweetness of the soda together with the lime. The pause allowed the silence to fill the air and a change in topic of conversation.

“Do you think I’ll be able to go home tonight? I don’t want to be here anymore.” Placing the photographs back into my folder, I pulled her health records out and pretended to examine them. It was another ruse. There was no way anyone near the pond would be leaving the area anytime soon. Even the soldiers and scientists on site. No one would be allowed to leave until the quarantine was lifted.

“Your physical and blood work analysis showed nothing except your cholesterol is a little on the higher side. That’s nothing to worry about. Everyone will be allowed to return to town soon,” I soothed, skimming over the report. “Everyone just wants to make sure nothing is-,”

A pounding on the trailer door disrupted me. “Seems like we have a visitor,” I remarked while plastering a smile across my face and opening the door. Mark appeared to be in a panic. It made my heart race.

“There’s a code…uh…19…42…911? Fuck it, there’s some shit going down at the Pond. All hands on deck!” Mark called out and ran away in the direction of our Suburban.

“Lock the door behind me. Don’t come out until I come back,” I ordered while rushing out the door. Daphne nodded, shutting the door behind me, and clicking the lock into place. Mark was already in the driver’s seat of the black Suburban when I jumped into the passenger side. He floored it allowing me no time to shut the door before we were already barreling down the dirt path. Other agency vehicles scrambled ahead of us, treading their tires and lifting grass and dirt into the air.

“911? Did you see the poor girl’s face when you said that? Codes exist so people don’t know when something happens and panics!” I reprimanded. Mark was far too concentrated on navigating through the darkness enveloping the landscape. It was a moonless night and the headlights of our SUV seemed to have a tough time penetrating the darkness ahead.

“Resin put out the call,” Mark replied.

“The shit really must have hit the fan,” I cursed. When the man in charge of Quarantine Security sends out a distress call, it’s safe to assume something catastrophic is occurring. We rode on without another word between us. The static crackling over the radio filled the silence. Ever so often a couple of voices faded in and out with nothing new to report.

Before our arrival at the deserted security checkpoint, we could see why Resin had called for backup. The perimeter was littered with the bullet ridden carcasses of all the woodland creatures inhabiting the area. At least it seemed to be. They were sprawled across the landscape, mangled, maimed, and mutilated. The air reeked of blood and feces. A pandemonium of screams and shouts filled the air inside the perimeter fence.

The inside area of the fence was littered with the tangled bodies of scientists, soldiers, and government workers combating other men and women like one of those Royal Rumble wrestling events where the ring was filled with as many brawling men as it could fit. They’d punch, kick, and throw one another over the top rope in an effort to eliminate each other until only one man remained standing. In this case, those eliminated ended up disappearing into the crystalline water at the center of our fenced in ring.

“Get them!” I directed Mark and pointed at the people closest to the Pond. He acknowledged with a grunt and darted ahead of me. I attempted to follow his lead, when a deer dashed past inches away from crashing into me. It twisted and turned, running past everyone in its path heading straight toward the water at a breakneck speed until it hit the edge and disappeared into that abominable substance that mimicked water.

It was precisely as Daphne and all the other people I had interviewed in the past twenty-four hours had recounted. The ground appeared to have gone out from underneath the deer and the water swallowed it whole like a titanic gaping mouth. I couldn’t take my eyes off it until Mark shouted for help. He was close to plunging in with a man at the edge where the land and water met.

Mark grasped hold of the hazard suit a man wore before he was able to reach the water. The man squirmed and shimmied in an attempt to disengage himself. Mark wrapped his arms around the man’s chest in a bear hug, hoisted him off his feet, and trounced him to the ground with a deep thud. The momentum sent Mark careening in the direction of the water. His saving grace was the hazard suit man, in his suicidal desperation, rolling beneath Mark’s feet and stopping him from twirling into certain death. The hazard suit man disappeared near the spot the deer had gone.

To join my assistant in the melee, I sideswiped the afflicted shuffling their way to the Pond. Their unresponsive eyes, glassy and unfocused, gave them away. They cared for nothing unless you impeded their progress. Then they would become agitated and fight like their lives were being threatened. To buy them time, I rammed myself into them, shoulder first, with the intention of knocking them over. My size was nowhere near the bulky, muscular frame of my assistant’s. I couldn’t bawl them over but I did provide the precious seconds it took for someone to come and restrain them.

Helping Mark from the ground, I instructed him to go for the legs and we advanced meeting the next entranced person closest to us. We would later learn the man’s name was Alex. He was one of the engineers responsible for constructing the fences around the Pond. Mark chop blocked his legs and both men crashed to the dirt. Mark climbed atop of Alex and pinned him down. Alex bellowed and snarled like a mad man, fighting with every fiber of his being. Snot and spittle flew from his nose and mouth as he swung his arms in wide arcs striking Mark on the chest and shoulders.

While Mark was busy holding down Alex, one of the security team’s members slogged past them. Circling around her, I dove at her ankles and wrapped my arms around them like a football player. Bridgette, whose name would also learn later, squirmed and kicked, struggling against my restraining grasp. Once she noticed she wasn’t going anywhere, she rained down a flurry of hammerfist blows upon my head. My teeth clattered together with every thud against my cranium. I could do nothing except take the abuse in an effort to save her life.

“Let her go!” someone barked from above me. It was Resin. Obeying his instruction, I let her loose and rolled away from the enraged woman. Resin kicked her on the rump and knocked her back to the ground. He pulled a Taser from his belt and placed it on her back. The soldier shrieked in agony at the electrical currents involuntarily contracting and locking her muscles into a full body Charlie horse. She stopped all resistance going limp face down in the grass.

“Catch!” Resin called out and tossed me a zip tie. I grabbed her legs again, this time without any resistance, pulled them together, and bound them with the zip tie. Resin yanked her hands behind her back and signaled for me to bind them too. She groaned and seethed under her breath while the zip tie clicked around her hands.

“You only have three!” he shouted shoving another Taser into my hand and a bundle of zip ties into the other. Without another word, Resin advanced upon the next person and jolted him down. In the blink of an eye, the man was hogtied and Resin sprinted off towards the sound of gunfire erupting near the edge of the fences.

Following Resin’s example, I freed Mark from the struggle with Alex. Mark released the solider allowing me to place the contacts of the Taser on his forearm and stun him into compliance. Alex squealed, babbling incoherently, while convulsing. He settled down allowing us to hogtie him too. With the remaining two charges, Mark and I managed to save two more people before we realized the madness had stopped.

The people that remained standing weren’t heading towards the water. The melee had finished with countless injured, many unaccounted and missing, and gone forever. The entranced suffered the brunt of those injuries. Everyone walked away with at least a bloody nose, a black eye or two, and a few bumps and bruises. Once order was restored, Resin called for everyone to assist with transporting the incapacitated and gravely injured back to the trailers. Everyone else was to abandon the area near the Pond, report anyone missing, and await further instructions.

Mark and I assisted with transport duties. Alex and Bridgette fussed and fought as we readied them to be carried back to the Suburban. With their hands and feet bound, the most they could do was spit and growl and snap with their teeth at our fingers. They writhed and thrashed until we had them secured in the trunk. Neither tried to hurt the other as both were focused on cursing Mark and I.

The more distance we put between the Pond and them, the more they seemed to regain a semblance of their senses. Once they were able to form sentences again, they were less inclined to spit and snarl, opting instead to beg us to put them out of their misery. Both complained of excruciating migraine like symptoms. Once we arrived at the medical trailer, we came to learn all of the others under the Pond’s influence were afflicted too.

The medical trailer was overcapacity with the injured and afflicted. Priority was given to those who had suffered the greatest injuries and the rest were left to their devices with supplies from the medical kits in their trailers and other items scrounged up. Mark and I carried Alex and Bridgette into the medical trailer with the assistance of personnel who arrived earlier and stayed behind to help.

Once they were attended to, I sent Mark back to check in on Daphne. It was almost three in the morning and the young woman would be worried. Mark would stay with her through the night. There was no telling what could happen if one of the afflicted managed to escape.

I stayed behind attending to minor injuries and bringing spiritual comfort to those in need of it. With my hand forced now, I understood I needed to fill Daphne and everyone else in on the situation. There was no hiding the truth anymore. The commotion was too great and there was no way to keep a lid on it with everyone running around bruised, beaten, and shell shocked.

Too many had been lost under the depths of the crystal oblivion.

There would be more to follow…

H_G

Submitted August 20, 2015 at 05:46PM by Human_Gravy http://ift.tt/1Jl3Nj6 DarkTales