No Kidding

Miss Bexley’s Books

Photo By: xololounge

You’ve found her in the basement of long closed Bexley Books after spending an hour or so of exploring the store that used to be a funeral home.

She is sitting at a time worn wooden table, arms crossed, dusty pile of  books stacked in a neat pile in front of her. There is almost no light in the dark room but there are a lot of shadows and they are creeping around the woman and the table like a dog begging it’s  human for a treat.

You could take a seat at this table and ask this woman what she is doing here.

But look at her and ask  yourself, would that be okay? Is she safe?

Her face is pleasant, the corners of her mouth are turned up just a little, just enough to make it look like she is smiling.  Her dark hair is pulled back in a pony tail. Her nails are not polished but they are neatly trimmed. She is wearing a lavender sweatshirt decorated  all over with little silver hearts.

So why not, she looks harmless enough, except for the fact that she is sitting in the dark with a pile of dusty books about  in front of her.

Oh. I guess I forgot to mention that.

Yes, the books are anatomy books and the one on the bottom of the stack is about cake decorating. The spine on that particular book is pink.

So let’s take a seat and ask …

” Oh. I’m waiting for a delivery. Yeah. Just sitting here passing the time and catching up on some reading.  I know from the looks of it,  this place would probably send Martha Stewart into one of those seizures that they would have thought were demonic possession back during the Middle Ages or in parts of rural America but really, I love to drop by when I can .”

” Oh go on, pull up a chair and sit down,  so you must be familiar with the neighborhood. No? Well, this place used to be a little bookstore and the books they sold here were all about death. That’s right. Death.They had books about embalming and head hunting and mummies and local unsolved murders.”

” Scoot that chair back up and don’t look at me like that.”

” The shop shut down a few years ago, but the books were left behind. They were just sitting on the shelves. Anybody could have walked in and taken them, I mean they were just defenseless books and how could they stop from being taken.”

” But some of the books were stolen and wouldn’t you know it with a day of that all of these strange murders started to pop up around town. And you look hip, so I guess I don’t need to go into how some of those murders followed the plot lines of those weird books. Yep. You know who really got miffed about that? The funeral directors. When bodies start to turn up embalmed and prepared for burial in perfect text book fashion they were not a happy bunch.”

” No. Miss Bexley isn’t around anymore, but if you go to the next room you’ll find shelves still stocked as if she were. These books know how to take care of themselves. “

“No I’m not worried about the books or being here. I placed an order- a special order and being that I was a friend,  Miss Bexley never did mind me taking those deliveries here. How did I become friends with Miss Bexley you ask?”

” Actually. One of these books was based on my life. Oh no. Not these books. It’s upstairs at the checkout counter. It was one of her personal favorites.”

“What is my book about?”

” Cannibalism. The one you have tucked away in your jacket pocket. And don’t bother. Sit down. The door is locked. All of them are. For now.”

She Was Not Alive

There were three of them in the car that Halloween Night when Mundy Selkirk turned up on Latona Road.

She was walking into town and they were driving out of town and had they not turned around and picked her up the Henshaw’s Party would not have been short a Pirate, a French Maid and a Zombie for the first part of their party. But the fact is they did turn around because they saw Mundy Selkirk  in a Mourning Dress and carrying a the knife she killed her family with over 100 years ago right there in Burnstone out at the Selkirk farmhouse.

” That is the best Mundy Selkirk costume I have ever seen ” the French Maid ( Lee Bressler ) screamed at the top of her lungs ” turn around now!”

The Pirate ( David Lindall ) said ” no ” but he did turn around because the Zombie ( Lister ) was his older brother and  he was agreeing with Lee. So at that point he knew that nobody in the car was listening to him.

They pulled up along side Mundy Selkirk, but she was not as pale and ghostly looking as the ten or so other Mundy Selkirk’s they’d already run into on their way to the Henshaw’s. This Mundy was a little dusty and sweaty looking, she looked annoyed when they signaled for her to stop.

” What?” she shouted at them

” That is the best Mundy Selkirk costume ever.”  Lee said enthusiastically. ” Where did you get it from?”

Mundy stopped and glared into the car. ” My Mother made it for me.”

” Your Mother is cool.” Lister told her.

Mundy seemed to consider what she had just heard Lister say. ” I suppose so.”

” Look, we can give you a ride into town if you want. It’s not a big deal. “

” Well. It would save me some time. I have to get back into town, I don’t want to be late.”

Mundy got into the back seat with Lister and as she slid into the car she handed Lister her knife. ” Watch yourself it’s sharp.” She told him.

” You’re taking a real knife to a party?”

” Well. Yes. ” She said slowly.

The ride into town was short but on that short ride they learned that this Mundy Selkirk liked to read poetry, she played the piano and she had a rose garden.

” So what is your interest in Mundy Selkirk?” David asked from the front seat. ” Most people who are into Mundy Selkirk are into the goth thing and it sounds like you’re into the, I don’t know flower thing.”

” The Goth thing?” Mundy asked

” Yeah, you know, they’re into vampires and…”

“Vampires?” Mundy echoed.

” Well. Some of them think they’re real and-”

” There are people out there who believe in Vampires and ress up like, M-”

” Yep. And they are into the Vampire thing in a very big way.”

” Mundy Selkirk was not a Vampire.”

” Who knows? ” Lee said with a laugh.  ” They said all of her victims had been drained of their blood. “

” You don’t think that the fact she cut their throats had something to do with that, do you?” Mundy Selkirk asked.

” Well, what happened to it then? All of that blood…”

” Took a very long time to clean up, but it was days before anyone knew something had happened at the House. Mundy had all the time in the world to do what she had to do.”

Mundy tapped the back of David’s headrest with her knife. ” You can let me out here. I’m going to the Bitterman’s House. Honestly. Mundy Selkirk a vampire.”

” So what do you think happened to the real Mundy Selkirk? ” Lee asked Mundy.

” They found her in the woods. ” Mundy told her.

” Well. Yes. But what do you think killed her?”

” She was not alive. ” Mundy said, ” and she hadn’t been for a very long time- that’s all I know.”

David watched Mundy walk up to the Bitterman’s B&B, they hosted a Halloween Party there for the guests every Halloween. The Bitterman party had a little something to do with Mundy Selkirk, Bitterman’s back in the day had been a Funeral Parlor.

And not just any Funeral Parlor, they buried the Selkirk Family.

As Mundy made her way up the walk, swinging her knife from side to side Lister could see the heavy white thread running up the back of Mundy Selkirk’s dress- that was a weird touch Lister thought.

That’s what they did in funeral homes he had learned a few years ago at the Bitterman’s Halloween Party a few years ago-  some funeral directors cut the clothes in the back to fit them on to the corpses and then they sewed them up the back with heavy thread.

They weren’t tailors so Lister imagined it looked just like the back of Mundy Selkirk’s dress- the stitches were loose and the fabric was bunched up in places up and down her spine.

Just then she turned and waved as they pulled away from the curb, she was waving goodbye with her knife.

And she was smiling.

Composition

WELCOME TO BOCKSBOHNE

Have you ever been on a road trip, and ended up driving down those dirt roads that lead into the dead empty towns with boarded up fast food places with names like “ Chicken Basket “ or “ Hank’s Hamburger Haven “ and have you noticed  there’s always a gas station with those funny tin signs advertising a brand of cigarettes or beer that no one’s seen on a shelf in over 50 years?

No doubt on these trips you’ve seen the houses too, the odd gray houses sitting up off the road.

You’ve probably even seen curtains hanging in the windows and you weren’t  sure but you think you may have seen someone looking back out at you as you drove by.  Maybe you’ve even seen one of those old time drug stores with the Soda Fountain in the back but you know, you wouldn’t stop there on a bet to check it out because you’ll tell yourself you don’t have the time…you’ve got somewhere to get to.

There, you’ll reassure yourself that sounds good. But that little voice, it’s  the real reason you don’t stop because it’s screaming at you, “ don’t you dare stop! Hey are you listening to me? I don’t care if you run out of gas! You will not stop in this town because if you do you’re going to have to get out and push. Don’t you even think about stopping here, is that clear?”

Then when you hit the other end of “ Main Street” (which will only take about three minutes) and you’re back on that long empty dirt road that some joker of a map maker called “ interstate 101 or Highway 19” you’ll have forgotten you were afraid.

After a few more minutes that empty little town that scared you half to death will be long behind you and it’ll be like you were never there at all.

That’s what the town of Bocksbohne is like; once you leave it you’ll never be sure you were really there.

One summer Audley Frame was driving to Seattle and somewhere along Amorita Pass high in the Olympic Mountains she passed through a town called Turnsole (clearly marked on her map) and after a few miles she was on a dirt highway that lead straight into Bocksbohne.

That’s what the white sign with the peeling black letters read. Welcome to Bocksbohne

It wasn’t suppose to be there according to the map, it had no reason to be there out in the middle of nowhere but it was there all the same and before she knew it Audley Frame was speeding passed a drive in theatre with a rusted swing set and a fallen over carousel under a weather-beaten movie screen. Across the street from the drive in was Chieko’s Drugstore and further up from that was little brick building with a sign in its window.

She slammed on her brakes and was snapped back in her seat by her seatbelt and she hardly noticed the pain because all she saw was the sign. It was a simple sign, the background was flat black and the letters were neon orange and the sign simply said:

Help Wanted.

The window was caked with dust and grime and right there in the center of the window screaming in brand new orange neon letters was the word:

HELP.

Not HELP WANTED

Now it just said HELP.

Audley’ s foot came off the brake and she let her car roll forward and she turned to watch the window as her car tried to pull itself away from building.

Now the sign read   “ HELP WANTED INQUIRE WITHIN “.

The letters were blood red and the ink was so fresh it had smudged a little on the filthy glass window.

“ Red Ink” she heard herself say, “ it’s red ink.”

Then her foot found the gas pedal and Audley’ s car roared passed buildings and houses with broken windows and doors that were falling off of their hinges. She ignored the rusty children’s toys abandoned on the sidewalks and she hit a few curbs and before she knew it she was out the other end of Bocksbohne and when she looked into her rearview mirror she saw her dark brown hair had turned white.

She put her hand to the mirror and turned it down, she had no intentions of using it until Bocksbohne was behind her.

Far behind her.

 

Nothing But The Night

It was only five doors down to her own house; a three minute walk on a well lit street on a quiet cold night last October.

But that didn’t matter because Damiana Dergmuse knew she was in trouble the minute that door shut behind her and she heard the tumblers in the lock grind together.

With that sound that half block turned into miles and she was going to have to walk it all alone.

” There’s nothing to be afraid of, ” she told herself out loud. ” There’s nothing out here now that isn’t out here when the lights are on. “

Then she took a deep breath and it froze in her chest and she was about to run back into the house she had just come out of because that rah-rah speech she had just given herself wasn’t going to work.

In fact she was about to have a nervous breakdown right there on the street and how would that look?

It was settled she was turning back.

Before she turned around she told herself one more time…she could do this.

It was only five doors down and she’d be there in seconds, minutes if she could just put one foot in front of the other and move.

Then each of those steps would add up until she would be through her own front door and she would find herself in the safety of her own room and the cinnamon smell that always filled her house during the winter months.

Wouldn’t that be better then sitting in front of a neighbor’s fireplace, in a neighbor’s chair, petting a neighbor’s cat in a neighbor’s house?

Of course it would be better to be in her own home so Damiana started to walk and as she passed the first house she heard a thump, thump and then a drag and a hiss and she realized that was the sound of her own heart stopping and starting in her own chest.

” Stupid woman ” she told herself.

She put her hand to her heart and felt to make sure that it was still beating and when she felt it pound against her hand she started to walk again.

And almost hidden under the sounds of her own foot steps and rapid breathing she heard something sliding across the pavement behind her.

What she heard was a dragging sound, metal against concrete and as much as she wanted to stop and turn around to find out what could be making such an awful sound she couldn’t because now she was three doors down from her own home and in the horizon she could see a thin line of orange in the skyline.

Damiana was sure of one thing, that’s not the last thing she wanted to see on this Earth, so she walked a little faster and as she did the sky filled with crows, hundreds of them and they were flying east.

The sun was coming up, and the thin line in the horizon got a little wider and Damiana could hardly breath and behind her the dragging sound got a little louder and a little heavier and she was determined that sound wouldn’t be the last thing she would hear in this life so she picked up her feet and ran.

The scraping sound got louder and she heard a whoosh and she flew up her stairs and to her door and she pushed it open and without turning around slammed it behind herself.

It was morning and the sun was coming through the windows and outside she could hear birds singing and with that sound ringing in her ears she ran faster up the stairs to the top floor of her house.

” Made it!” she cried with relief,  as she threw herself down into her bed and slammed the coffin lid shut over herself ” I’ve made it! “

 

Where Have You Been Hubert Mead?

This little story was based on a writing prompt called:

Where Have You Been

You were supposed to include the words Yellow, Iris, Quote and Joke in your story-

I came up with a little something about a Spree Killer and Brain Eating Aliens…

enjoy!

Where have you been Hubert Mead?

The plants in your window boxes are all dead, there are newspapers turning to gray piles of mush on your porch and the yellow curtains that your cleaning lady hung in your kitchen last winter stuck to the panes of glass during the last rain storm we had and they’ve dried there.

That was months and months ago.

Where have you been Hubert Mead?

Have you heard about Iris Franks? You must have. Everyone with a TV set or a computer on the face of the Earth has heard about Iris Franks from down the street.

She thought Aliens from outer space were infesting- that was the exact quote that the news people keep repeating-  “Aliens are infesting  people’s brains.”

She decided to take them out herself-being that nobody else was doing anything to solve this problem.

She used chemicals to do it.

Nobody knows about that particular detail except for us here in the neighborhood.

The reason the Police aren’t giving details to the press because they don’t know what kinds of chemicals she used. No one can figure it out, it’s something new. Iris can’t even cook, let alone invent a new chemical that no one has ever seen before.

Don’t look at me like that Hubert Mead, I’m not joking. Iris Franks killed fifteen people with something that eats bone, leaves the skin intact and smells like cinnamon.

There’s all this speculation if she’s going to go for the Insanity Defense, but I don’t think so. Brenda Paine saw her at the jail and Brenda says Iris is the same Iris that she’s always been. She just believes that Aliens are nesting in people’s brains now. Except for that one thing Iris is just as sane as you or me.

Let me be honest with you  Hubert Mead.

I really do not want  to have conversations about  Aliens from outer space infesting brains or women who cook up bone eating acids in their bathtubs. Do you know what other topic I’d like to avoid?

I’d like to avoid having to share with anyone that you disappeared the day after Iris took her first victim out and that you showed up right after she was safely locked away from her bathtub full of bone eating acid that  she used to get to those Brain eating aliens.

And it can stay that way, providing of course nothing starts to crawl around in my head- besides,  if anything were to do that it would be in for a very nasty surprise, yes indeed a very nasty surprise.

Don’t look so shifty eyed Hubert Mead.

We’ve been neighbors for a very long time; do you really think I’m the type of person to not pay attention to what is happening on her own street let alone in her own little corner of the galaxy?

Where have you been Hubert Mead?

The Break Room

” I really hate masks. ” Melanie told her friend at lunch in the break room  at work.

Her friend, Libby, was trying to open a bag of Cheesy Twists and she asked ” Why?”

Actually Libby  wasn’t really listening to her friend. What she really focused on  was to getting into the bag of Cheesy Twists which was a chore because the stupid bag wouldn’t tear open.

Libby loved Cheesy Twists, she loved to pop them into her mouth one by one and just let that cheesy goodness melt on her tongue. She could make a handful of Cheesy Twists last a half hour because of the way she ate them.

” I guess I hate them because they have that one expression- it’s like looking at the face of a corpse. I don’t care if it’s a scary mask or a cat mask or a feather mask. They bother me.”

Libby got up and went to the counter and started to look through the silverware drawer. She found a fork and stuck it into the bag and tore it open.

” That’s weird.” Libby mumbled as she looked at the previously indestructible bag.

” I know it’s weird.” Melanie said ” And what are the stores full of right now?”

Libby hoped they weren’t full of Cheesy Twist bags like the one in her hand.

” Halloween masks. They’re everywhere and they freak me out Libby. I mean, why do people need to hide behind those things? They’ re hot and smelly and if someone tried it on before you, well…”

” Ugh.” Libby said as she dropped a Cheesy Twist onto her tongue.

” Exactly. It’s to disgusting for words.”

The Cheesy Twist in Libby’s mouth was stale. It was as hard as a cough drop.

” What?” she said as she spat the Twist out into her hand.

” The way people hide behind masks. The way they’re willing to suffer to hide behind them.”

” Oh yeah.” Libby shook the little bag in her hand and dropped two fat, golden orange Cheesy Twists into the palm of her hand.

” I wonder why anyone bothers. I wonder why they just let their real faces show- I’ll bet they’d end up looking just like those horrible masks anyway”

Libby tilted her head back and shook the little bag into her mouth. “Mmmm.”

” I mean. Why pretend to be something you aren’t? Why not just be what you are? Doesn’t that make more sense?”

When the bag was empty Libby wadded up her empty Cheesy Twist bag into a ball and then she shot it into the garbage can.

She made her shot and hissed, ” yessss….”

Melanie looked over to her friend and she nearly cried in relief. “You don’t think I’m weird for hating those things. Right?”

Libby woke from her Cheesy Twist dream state and was able to focus on her friend’s pain filled face.

” No I don’t think you’re weird for hating Halloween masks Mel. And I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening to you at first. All I could think about was my snack. And you’re my friend. I’m a jerk Melanie. So look. If you hate masks so much…

Libby reached under both sides of her jaw with her hands,” I won’t wear this thing around you anymore.”

Photo By: patriciaegreen

Radiation As A Beauty Aid

I have written stories about a Killer Grandmother, a  Suburban Housewife who  bakes trick or treaters into pies and what it’s like when Satan has a bad hair day.

I could never have dreamed up a story where a woman  rubs radioactive dirt into her face  to sell  face cream…but a company called Dorothy Gray Cosmetics had a model do just that for a commercial.

Horror Writers have nothing on this company…nothing.

Devil’s Luck

Did you ever have one of those days when everything went wrong?

Maybe you knew it was going to be bad when your alarm went off  20 minutes too early and to make it worse it was one of those nights where you woke up every half hour and when you got out of bed you knew, you could feel it was going to get much worse.

Veta Trella had a night like that.

After she got out of bed she went  to take a shower and as she stepped into her tub she slipped but was lucky enough to break her fall with her knees.

That  was okay because Veta wasn’t the kind of person anyone paid attention to so if she had to limp and shuffle no one was going to notice.

That was the only lucky break Veta had for the rest of the day.

When Veta dried her hair she was distracted by the sizzling sound the wires made everytime she turned her wrist and just before her hair was completely dry some blue sparks flew out of the wall and all of the lights in Veta’s house went out and stayed out.

She guessed all of those black scorch marks all over her walls by the electrical outlets she saw on the way to her basement to check her fuse box was not a good sign.

When Veta  finally made it out thedoor she looked down in time to see her that not only were her shoes not tied, they were different colors and just as she turned to go back into her house the door swung shut and she knew that not only was the door locked she had never taken her keys out of the candy bowl she kept them in.

But none of that mattered for very long because as she took  a step she tripped on her laces and went face first into the door.

It was only a matter of seconds- not minutes before her nose started to swell and she could feel her lips start to go numb. She poked at her face and sighed and then Veta walked around to her back yard.

She walked slowly up the steps to her back porch and when she reached down to pick up a little clay flowerpot to break the little glass window in center of the porch door she felt her fingernail peel back and then it came off with a sting.

She held her hand up, looked at raw  finger tip and sighed.

Veta made it through her kitchen safe enough but when she got to the living room she scared her cat Blitzer right off of the couch he knew wasn’t suppose to be on.

Veta didn’t have the heart or energy to yell at him because she shouldn’t have had to break into her own house and put herself in the position to scare her black cat into running straight across her path.

In fact, he was so startled by her that he jumped straight up onto the mantle piece above the fireplace and sent Veta’s antique mirror crashing to the floor where it didn’t just break.

It smashed into millions of little shards and a cloud of dust and glass wafted up and into Veta’s face- Veta’s bruised and swollen face that was now in the process of working it’s way into a full fledged allergy attack.

” Oh, why the Hell not ” Veta said and then she sneezed and her nose started to bleed- all over her brand new white blouse.

When Veta made it to her bus- well it wasn’t her usual bus because she missed her regular bus- she almost tripped over a woman who had suddenly stopped to pick something up off of the ground and that sent Veta and her things flying  in about four different directions.

Veta sort of shuffled and cringed all the way to the back of the bus and when she sat down it was on something wet and sticky and she closed her eyes and when she opened them she looked up and then down and then from her left to her right and then slowly behind her. When she was done she slouched down and held her belongings to her chest and tried to make herself breathe.

She thought if she concentrated on doing just that she wouldn’t start screaming.

Then the woman Veta had tripped over took the seat right in front of her and she was jabbering and laughing and chatting away to the very good-looking man next to her.

” Can you believe it? ” she sang, ” first I find a hundred dollar bill right there on the curb on the very morning I’m thinking I’m going to for sure  miss my bus and then…” she leaned towards her seat mate and nudged him with her shoulder ” you ask me out and look! “

She was holding her phone up and the man read the text message and he congratulated the woman on her promotion and then he moved a little closer to her and put his arm over the back of her seat.

” I mean, I don’t know where all of this is coming from.  I’ve never had luck like this before!”

” My Grandma would have said you have the luck of the Devil ” he told the woman happily.

And then Veta reached over she tapped them each on the shoulder.

When they turned around they were looking straight into Veta’s bright yellow eyes which were ringed with bruises and they saw the little white horns she normally hid under her blow dried hair and then her forked tongue shot from under her broken nose and swollen lips and she hissed ” your Grandma is liar.”