SNM Horror Magazine
If You Build A Mausoleum...The Dead Will Come!
Notice of Publication
*We publish a new issue every month on the 1st of the month. We are here on behalf of the interest of the writers to promote them on a consistent basis. We will feature 8 new short stories every month. Thank you and enjoy the July issue of SNM MAG.
Table of Contents
Theme:
Big shocker twist endings that you never saw coming.
Crescent Moon - Lisa Sanzalone / 3rd Place
Blood Brothers - Kerry Morgan / 4th Place
Swamp Serenade - Stacy Bolli
February 14th - Brian Johnpeer
Lisa Sanzalone - Crescent Moon
Crescent Moon
Lisa Sanzalone
Sam Kettner sat at his desk enjoying the latest edition of the Pine Ridge Gazette and savoring his final sweet October apple. The night before he had treated himself to dinner in the city and this morning he’d stopped by the village barber shop for an old fashioned shave. He’d yearned for this day and dreaded it, but now that it was here, a kind of peace had descended on him. For an old man, Sam thought, I’ll make a good looking corpse.
He was only halfway through an article on Ridge football’s longstanding rivalry with
Most of the time Jenny was smiling, but today she wore the dazed ten-mile stare of a girl who had just stumbled away from an otherwise fatal plane crash.
He motioned for her to sit and she perched on the edge of a chair; her hands clenching the straps of an overstuffed backpack. Sam’s time was short, but decades of experience informed him that it was wise not to rush a distraught teenage girl. So he sat patiently, letting the seconds slip away until finally she spoke. Her voice was a shell-shocked monotone.
“You’ll never believe me,” said Jenny. “You’ll say it’s impossible, but I don’t know who else to tell.”
Sam’s eyes searched hers and found stark terror. She couldn’t know, he told himself. Yet it seemed she did. She slipped her hand into the backpack, withdrew a heavy volume and set it before him. Sam tried to swallow, but his throat felt full of sand. It was an age-worn yearbook, circa 1959, but may as well have been a bloody corpse, unearthed and heaved onto his desk.
Sam gripped the arms of his chair, struggling to still the tremors that racked his body. He forced his eyes away from the book, up to Jenny’s haunted face.
“What do you have there?” he asked, striving for a light tone, but failing miserably.
“It was for my research project,” she said.
Pine Ridge required its seniors to choose a period in American History and write a term paper from the point of view of a character living in that era. Over the years, students had turned out some very impressive work on World War Two, the Civil Rights Movement and
“I always wished I’d been alive in the nineteen fifties,” Jenny said. “The movies make it seem so much simpler, more innocent. So I thought I’d write as a member of the class of ’59 and figured an old yearbook was a good place to start. I was in the library during lunch, leafing through the pages, giggling at all the outdated clothes and big hairstyles.
She laughed, but there was no joy in the sound.
“And guess whose picture I found?”
“I’ve got no idea, Jenny,” said Mr. Kettner. He had to protect her. Bluff as long as could and get her out of his office before
“Look,” she said, flipping to a page she’d marked. Staring up at them was a strikingly pretty blond with a small but distinctive crescent shaped scar on her left cheek. Even from a picture, Sam could feel the evil.
“The caption says Lola Russell, but that’s the new girl, Ashley Jones,” said Jenny.
“That picture is fifty years old,” he told her. “If the girl was still alive, she’d be an old woman, close to seventy.
“No,” she answered. “I don’t know how, but she’s still eighteen.”
“Jenny,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen Ashley in the hallways. There might be a resemblance, but she’s got dark hair. This girl’s as blonde as can be. And look at the scar on her cheek. Ashley doesn’t have it.”
This was the argument Sam had used on himself when first saw her a month ago. But even as he denied the truth, he’d known.
“Does too,” said Jenny. “I saw her in the girl’s locker room after gym on Friday, covering it with make-up. And this bracelet? She still wears it. Plus her hair’s got blonde roots.”
Sam’s head sunk into his hands, his confidence blown away. No longer was he a grown man prepared for battle, but a skinny twelve year old paralyzed by fear.
“When she came here she was real friendly,” explained Jenny. “Everyone loved her. Except me. Being near her made my skin crawl. She’d sit at my table in the cafeteria and I’d lose my appetite. Or she’d walk by me in the hall and I’d get a bad case of the shakes. Then she started seeing my friend, Dylan, and it’s like he’s a zombie. We’ve been next door neighbors and best friends since Kindergarten. Now he barely recognizes me. It’s only been a few weeks, but he’s so thin and pale, like he’s got cancer or something. Then I found this.” She gestured toward the yearbook. “Tell me I’m crazy.”
“I wish I could,” he said.
“Then who or what is she?” said Jenny, panic coming off her in waves.
“I’ve read some legends, but I’m not sure.”
“You know something.”
Sam sighed. He would have given anything to keep Jenny from seeing that yearbook. But now that she had, she deserved an explanation.
“Lock the door,” he told her.
Jenny got up and did as he asked.
“Tell me,” she said, when she’d returned to her chair.
“The stories call them praying mantises. They mate, kill and devour. The flesh of their victims keep them eternally young.”
“But after twenty-eight years,” he said. “I felt ridiculous for believing some obscure legend. I began to wonder if it had all been a delusion, a bad dream. And then I saw “Ashley” and my blood went cold. I tried to convince myself she wasn’t the same girl, but when I looked into her eyes, I knew.”
“I’m old now, and she doesn’t recognize me. But a long time ago, before she left Pine Ridge, Lola made me a vow: That she’d be back. ‘You’ll be dead and buried by then, little boy,’ she said. ‘And I’ll be as young and beautiful as I as I am right now.’ She’d already killed my sister by then. And my brother Johnny was next.”
The color drained from Jenny cheeks and her freckles stood out like a child’s connect-the-dots picture, but Sam couldn’t stop. It was as if a dam had broken and he was powerless to stop his secrets from rushing out.
“Back then,” he said. “I was just an elementary school kid, but even sixth graders heard about the day Lola Russell had sashayed into Pine Ridge High. In a small town, any new kid is novelty. But this one was in a class by herself. The Ridge girls wore poodle skits and bobby socks. “Lola” showed up in stockings and high heels. Platinum blonde hair, false eye lashes and a body that wouldn’t quit. It was like having Marilyn Monroe in your American History class. Girls hated her. Boys wanted to date her. And the whole town was talking. Story was that Lola’s mom had walked out on her dad when Lola was four or five.”
“Frank hadn’t heard from them in all that time. Then one day Lola shows up at his door, with a little white valise. He welcomed her home, no questions asked.”
Sam pulled the yearbook over, leafed through it, and pointed to a picture of a boy whose smile lit up the page.
“This is my brother, Johnny,” he said, his voice cracking. “He was a senior that year, a football star and popular with girls, but he was the kind of guy who’d pick a ninety pound weakling for his dodge ball team, just to make the kid’s day.”
“It says John Trenton,” said Jenny. “Not Kettner.”
“I changed my name,” Sam replied.
Jenny didn’t ask why.
“Johnny had a ton of friends,” he told her. “Until then, we were always pals. We’d toss around a football, go to Saturday matinees or out for ice cream sodas. By Halloween, things were different. The new girl, Lola was wearing his football jacket and monopolizing his time.”
“One Saturday my parents got invited to a dinner party. They gave my sister, Kathleen, ten dollars to take me to the Tip Top for cheeseburgers and fries.”
Jenny smiled. It was a new century, but Ridge kids still hung out at the Tip Top Diner on Saturday nights, slurping milkshakes and munching on extra crispy fries.”
“As soon as my parent’s car pulled out of the driveway, my sister grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me out the door and up
“When we got to the diner, Elvis was playing on the jukebox and there were teenagers at every table. Girls with teased hair and boys in leather jackets. All her friends waved at us. I felt pretty cool, like I was part of the in crowd, but my sister walked right past them to a booth in the back. Kathleen’s lips were pressed together so tightly they’d turned white, kind of like yours are now. I couldn’t imagine why she was so grim.”
“After the waitress took our order, Kathleen made sure no one was listening. She leaned across the booth and told me something terrible…”
“She’d barged in on Johnny in the bathroom that morning, while he was shaving. His shirt was off. There were welts and bruises all over his body. I told her they were probably from football. The high school games could get rough. But she looked away and shook her head. There were bite marks there, too, she said. Lots of them.”
“I tried to laugh it off; told her that she had a screw loose. But Kathleen was very sure of what she’d seen. And of who’d done it. It was his new girlfriend.”
“That time I really laughed. She couldn’t be vampire, I said. I knew about them from my comic books. Vampires don’t go out in the sun or they would sizzle like sausages. And Lola went to school every day. She didn’t even wear shades.”
“’Maybe she’s not a vampire,’ my sister told me, ‘but she’s a monster just the same.’”
Jenny’s cell phone rang and she almost fell out of her chair. She reached into her pocket and turned it off without even checking the number.
“Kathleen asked if I’d noticed anything strange about Johnny. I hadn’t. He wasn’t staying home to play gin rummy with me like he used to, but that was okay. He had a car now, the prettiest girl in school in the passenger seat. I understood.”
“Right about then the door to the Tip Top opened. I was facing away from it, but I heard it creak and felt a gust of arctic air. The juke box died and, for an instant, an eerie silence enveloped the Tip Top.”
“Then the music came back on and the conversation resumed where they had left off. My sister told me to turn around. There was something I needed to see.”
“It was like getting punched in the stomach. Johnny was there with Lola. He had lost weight and his complexion was very pale. He must have some kind of disease, I told Kathleen. But she said no. It was that girl. She was eating Johnny alive.”
Sam glanced at his watch’s advancing hands and handed a tissue to Jenny. As she’d listened to his story, she’d bitten her lip until it bled.
“Johnny and Lola sat a few tables from us. They held hands and Johnny stared into her eyes, like he was hypnotized. He didn’t even know we were there.”
“Kathleen said that she was going to talk to Lola, get her to leave our brother alone. She took a pen from her purse and scrawled a note on one of the Tip Top’s paper napkins.”
“Then Johnny got up to put a dime in the juke box and Kathleen slid the note across the table to me. ‘Quick,’ she told me. ‘Give it to her, before Johnny gets back.”
“Meet me down by the
“What if Mom and Dad come home?” I asked her. ‘They won’t let you go out at that hour.’
“Kathleen said she’d sneak out. She gave me a little nudge to get me going. I scooped up the napkin and headed toward Lola. From a distance, she looked like a movie star. But as I got closer, I saw what my sister meant. There was something not quite right about Lola. It was as if she was wearing the skin of a girl as a disguise. I caught a glimpse of the giant human insect, crouching underneath. My hand was shaking so badly that I dropped the notepad.”
“Lola was wearing that bracelet and when she bent to pick up the napkin, the charms tinkled, but I swear that it sounded like voices screaming out in agony. Then she looked up at me and smiled. That crescent moon on her cheek got very bright, her blue eyes turned a bloody, crimson red and her teeth grew long and pointed.”
“’You’re Johnny’s brother,’ she hissed. ‘I bet you’re just as delicious as he is.”
“My heart clenched, as if she’d reached into my chest and twisted it. I couldn’t breathe. Then a Platters song began to play: “Only you.” My heart started beating and I stumbled out the door. It was bitter cold that night, but I would rather have frozen to death than be in the same room with that monster.”
“Kathleen met me outside a minute later. I couldn’t explain what had happened, but I made her promise not to meet Lola. We walked home without saying another word. I hurried up to my room, crawled into bed with my clothes on and lay there; my eyes wide open, determined to stay awake.
"But I failed. One minute it was
Across the desk, Jenny had pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
“I should have done more. Slept on Kathleen’s floor. Told my parents. Anything. All I did was deliver the note to that abomination. The very next morning I woke to my mother’s screams. She’d gone to wake Kathleen for church and found her bed empty.”
Jenny moaned.
“Johnny staggered out of his bedroom like a sleepwalker. When I said our fifteen year old sister was missing, he didn’t even respond.”
“I told my parents I’d be right back and flew out the front door, straight down the path to the lake, slipping on fallen pine needles. But there was no sign of Kathleen. Just dead brown leaves and sheet of ice forming on the water. I ran home to confess what I knew.”
“When I walked in my parents were sitting at the dining room table with a police officer. I was about to tell them when the kitchen door opened and in strolled Lola, wearing my mother’s apron and carrying a pot of coffee. She looked at me, and for just a second, her eyes flashed red. That was enough. It was like she’d put a spell on me. I didn’t say a word, Jenny. But we never saw my sister again. I signed Kathleen’s death warrant,” he said in a voice beyond tears.
“No,” said Jenny, “It wasn’t your fault.”
“After that, I’d find my mother in Kathleen’s room, humming to herself as she dusted or refolded her clothes. Behaving as if Kathleen was at the library or the movies with her friends, expected home any minute. And my father withdrew. He’d phone the police everyday, check with the hospitals and go for long drives searching for her. But he spoke less and less. And Johnny? He was a ghost, fading a little more every day.
“My parents were so caught up in their grief they were blind to what was happening to him. That winter seemed like an ice age, but spring finally came, and the night of Johnny’s graduation.
“Lola marched up to receive her diploma while her father was conspicuously absent. And then it was Johnny’s turn. He was gaunt; starved. Like a prisoner of war. My mother snapped a few pictures. I still have one.”
Sam reached into his wallet and pulled out an old faded photograph and handed it to Jenny who cradled it in her hands.
“That night he went off to a party. I fell asleep by the living room window waiting for him to come home. In the morning my parents found a note stuck under the door.
He and Lola had eloped, it said. He promised to call or send us a postcard. But days turned into weeks and weeks to months and we never heard a word from him.”
“One day I rode my bike over to Lola’s house. Cute little place. Slate roof, fieldstone walks, wildflowers all over the lawn. But as I got to the front door, I smelled something awful. Like meat that had gone bad only far, far worse. I wanted to turn and run but rang the bell instead. Nobody answered, so I tried the doorknob. It turned in my hand and I proceeded inside. The electricity was out. Everything was coated with dust and the stench was so thick I could hardly breathe. Mr. Russell was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in his hand. I called his name, but he didn’t answer. Then I pulled open a shade and saw his face. I screamed until my throat became raw. He was a mummified corpse. Dead, it appeared, for a long, long time.”
“Charlie Bennett, a local guy, was out in a row boat on
“In August a hunter on one of the ridged trails happened across a collection of human bones picked clean and thrown into a pile. Like the remains of a leftover chicken dinner. The suit my brother wore to graduation was nearby. Johnny had never made it out of town.”
“My parents packed up and left Pine Ridge a few days later. It would be couple more years before they rested in their graves. The loss of Kathleen and Johnny had been too much for them. They were as good as dead.”
“I ended up in
“I’ve waited so many years that I feared I’d die of old age before she returned. And then she was back. When I saw her, a pain like I’d never felt shot up my right arm into my chest. I thought I was having a heart attack. That I’d die right there in the hallway before I did what I came to do.”
“What’s that?” Jenny whispered.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Your friend Dylan is going to be okay. I won’t let another innocent kid die.”
Leave it at that, Sam thought. Don’t let Jenny know about the gun hidden in the desk drawer, the one loaded with silver bullets. Amazing what you can buy on the internet these days.
“Are you going to be okay?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “But I’ve got a
“If I can help,” she said. “I will.”
“Thank you.”
She wiped away a tear, reached across the desk and squeezed his hand. Then she grabbed her backpack and walked out the door. Sam tossed the old yearbook and slid it into a drawer, his hand closing around the cold metal of the revolver. Any second, his
Jenny was on her way down the school’s front steps when two shots rang out. Before she could think what they meant, people were screaming and stampeding out the doors. The old guidance counselor had gone crazy, someone had said. Shot a student and then himself. They were both dead.
In the mass of fleeing kids, she saw Dylan, one hand shielding his eyes from the sun, scanning the crowd. Then he saw her and broke into a run.
“Jenny,” he yelled.
Immediately she sensed a change in him. Though still thin and pale, his eyes were clear, his gait steady. He caught her in his arms, folding her into a tight embrace.
“Are you okay?’ she asked.
“I wasn’t,” he said. “Not for awhile. But I think I am now.”
Jenny reached up and touched his cheek.
“It’s good to have you back.”
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
As they walked away she thought of Mr. Kettner. Not as they old man she had known, but as the young boy he’d once been. She hoped that somewhere he was Sam Trenton again, sipping ice cream sodas with his brother and sister.
*
Lisa Sanzalone just began writing about two years ago. She makes an impressive debut here at SNM with this haunted tale. She has just submitted her first full-length young adult novel, Shadows and Ashes, for publication and is currently working on her second novel, UNDYING. She has written several short stories and poems. When she's not writing, she is the director of a small private school. Lisa lives in New Jersey. She does not have a Myspace or a website, but readers can email comments:
Kerry Morgan / Blood Brothers
Blood Brothers
Kerry Morgan
“Tommy, wake up, it’s time to go.” Justin took hold of his brother’s shoulder and rocked him back and forth violently.
“Damn it, Tommy. If you don’t wake up then you’ll just feed tomorrow at school. Now come on.” Back and forth like mechanical timepieces Tommy‘s shoulder shook. “Tommy!” Justin practically screamed into his brother’s ear, giving him one last shove.
“Yeah, okay.” The ten year-old murmured, “okay.” Tommy’s muscular legs crawled their way out of his superman blanket bed spread set and dangled off the edge of the bed. “I’m coming, Tommy. Thanks for helping me.”
Justin stood against the wall and watched his brother’s dark shadow moving around the darker room. It was like watching black move inside of black. He wished he could turn on a light just to wake him up faster, but they couldn’t take that risk.
He looked back at his brother and shook his head. He didn’t understand why it was so hard to get his brother to do what he loved. He got so into it, too. But this fight every other night to wake him up almost wasn’t worth it. If Justin didn’t know how badly things could go tomorrow, he wouldn’t do it. He’d just let him sleep.
“Thanks man. Let’s just get this over with. You know it won’t be so bad.” Justin stood, crossing his arms in front of his navy blue T-shirt in an effort to coax Tommy to move along a little faster. He shoved his hands deep into his jeans pockets to distract his nerves with pain.
His black jeans were so tight he couldn’t slide his whole hand in, despite his lean figure. His fingers were just too long. White crease lines formed across the back of his hands as Justin pressed his fingers into his thigh muscles through his jeans.
Finally Tommy got up and put his clothes on. Perking up a bit while tying his shoes, he looked like the little boy that was about to go to a birthday party. Justin grabbed his blue coat and threw it at his head. Tommy ducked and caught the coat without effort. He slid into each sleeve and looked at Justin expectantly. “Let’s do this.”
The boys headed for the door, Tommy reahing it first. Justin gave his back left shoulder a good shove for cutting. Tommy smiled but slowed down the hall as they passed their parents bedroom. No light shone under the door and only the soft snore of their mother could be heard. They eased passed on the solid dark cherry wood floor quietly, because of the oriental runner their mother put along the floor. They snuck down the staircase, avoiding the creaking steps from years of practice, and headed for the front door.
Tommy stopped his brother and grabbed his shoulder. “Hey, where’s your coat? “
“Okay, MOM, shut up. And cut it out.” Justin screamed in a whisper, shaking Tommy‘s hand off his shoulder then he put a finger to his mouth, signaling for his brother to be quiet. They’d at last reached the front door.
Justin grabbed the brass handle and ever so slowly turned it holding the top of the door so it didn’t creak with the pressure release. Justin kept the fingers of his left hand flush with the edge of the door as it moved so he knew just how far he had to go before the wood separated from the door frame.
As soon as the cool night air crashed into their faces, the two boys slipped through the door and crossed into the night. Once again, just as carefully as he’d opened it, Justin held the door with his fingers and gently connected the wood together. When he’d finally let go of the handle he realized he hadn’t taken a single breath and dared their ruin to a gasp.
He smiled at Tommy and urged him on, knowing they were running late and wouldn’t have much time to search. They crouched into the shadows of the side of their house. Its chocolate colored paint job allowed for their departure to remain relatively unseen.
Justin followed the rockery down the driveway and didn’t stop until they were hidden underneath the largest pine tree on the block. It just happened to stand proudly at the end of their driveway. The boys leaned down to put their hands on both knees, heaving great gasps while trying to suppress laughter. “Dude, you can’t make that look so funny, Justin. I’m telling you it’s like you’re trying to be Mission Impossible guy or something.”
Justin reached out and cuffed his brother on his head. “Shut up you dork. Where we headed, bro?” He asked, turning serious.
Tommy looked up and sniffed down the right side of the street. The air was heavy with breeze and cool moisture sat atop Justin’s upper lip. He wanted to get this over with. He watched Tommy who snuffed at the air, making loud sniffing sounds that sounded like he was inhaling each possible particle there was to try. “Anything tasty?” He asked; his voice rising.
Tommy shook his head; his long brown hair fluffed around his face like a dark mop. “Maybe, horse face, just shut up and let me figure it out. Will you just keep up when I catch it?” Tommy asked.
“Here…zzz…ur…sign…” Justin answered, thrusting one of his hands at him as if he were holding a little paddle or a sign. Tommy smiled and went back to his task.
It didn’t take very long. Once Tommy turned his nose to the other direction, his body went rigid and everything went still as he breathed deeply then in quick short inhales. Justin readied by staying crouched but alert and sprinted off as Tommy landed on all fours into a kind loping monkey run. Justin followed running normally, but much faster than most would be able to.
They went through a stretch of King Pine trees with several leafy bushes jammed around the trunks fighting for space. Justin tore behind Tommy following in his wake; bushes crushed and dirt divots flying everywhere. Around a corner and down three streets Tommy’s back slammed against a white two story house, a matching five foot tall white gate three feet away from where they landed. Justin looked at Tommy, dark eye brows reaching for his hair line.
“Here, bud?”
Tommy’s eyes were glowing with a bright light behind his blue irises. Shaking his head vigorously he smiled widely at Justin. Justin nodded his agreement and swished his long black bangs out of his gray eyes. Firm in his resolve to always help his brother, Justin crept along the side of the house, looking for a window or other way inside. One foot from the gate was a ground floor window.
Justin reached around to his back pocket and pulled out a deformed roll of masking tape. He drew a large asterisk in manila strips and slid the tape back into his pocket. Pulling a fist back, he popped the window with a short, quick burst. The window splintered without a sound, the pieces of glass sticking to the tape as planned.
Sliding a glove on, Justin slipped a hand through the glass pieces and unlocked the window, pushing it open as far as it would go. They would have to lie down on the ground, and slide into the house on their bellies, but the ground wasn’t wet, and they were used to getting into houses at odd times in every angle possible.
Justin eased the window open gently and looked at Tommy. “What?” Tommy protested, impatience written across his face.
“Tommy, you have to remember. You cannot kill, you cannot maim, just feed, okay? Don’t hurt anyone.” Justin warned.
Tommy rolled his eyes at his brother and shoved his shoulder. “I know, I know, just come on. I can feel her in there, go.”
“So it’s a girl?”
“Yeah, just go.” Tommy said pushing at him again.
Resolved to go on, Justin crawled through the window and dropped down to a cement floor with an audible slap of his sneakers on the concrete. He held up his hands to spot for his brother as he wriggled his way through the opening. Tommy took a look at his brother and ordered through clenched and glistening teeth, “This way, brother.”
Tommy had begun the change. Innocent blood did that to him. The darkness painted the house in shadows which did not impede his brother as he navigated his way through boxes and bikes and other children’s toys to a stairway. The stairs led to a closed wooden door.
In a flash the door was open and Justin was watching his brother zip through it and head to the right. Justin followed as quickly as he could. The stairs didn’t even have the chance to creak.
Justin risked a quick glance at the house as they snuck their way through. It was very clean and tidy, with crisp decorative pieces in neutral colors and easy shades. Following his brother up a carpeted set of stairs, Justin caught just a glimpse of a baby bottle half-filled with formula on a table next to a lamp. It made his heart squeeze and contract with guilt. He looked away quickly and followed his brother up to the second story of the home, where he knew the infant slept.
Justin found his brother hovering over a crib in a dark room at the top of the stairs. He was visibly shaking. Tommy’s head was slightly raised his nostrils flaring stealing deep breaths of the child’s scent which permeated the room. Justin understood how intoxicating this fragrance was for his brother and had tried to recreate it on several occasions.
Baby powder, diaper rash cream, passing baby wipes under his nose. Nothing seemed to be able to replace the innocence Tommy needed. Justin had even stolen some baby clothes that had been worn already from friend’s houses with the hope to avoid situations like the one playing out before him. Nothing worked. But Justin was determined to help his brother, even when he had to spot him during the feedings he detested having to witness; so he stood by the door to keep a look out, and let his brother go.
Tommy was reaching over the edge of the crib with trembling hands. The baby inside remained still and quiet. Tommy slipped his hands underneath the sleeping child and began to raise it out of its nest. Tommy was right. The child was tightly wrapped in pink blankets. Tommy fumbled with them until they loosened and unwrapped his meal.
Justin’s stomach turned over and he feared he would wretch. He swallowed hard and looked back down the hall. Tommy let the pink blankets fall to the floor and sat down, cradling the infant within his arms. The baby girl’s head rest in the crook of his elbow as he raised her up to his face. He leaned down and touched the innocent’s face with his nose and inhaled as if he hadn’t been able to breathe in ages. His nose rubbed against the silken cheek of the baby, following the scent of the child up to that soft spot on the top of her head. Justin couldn’t watch. He loved his brother with every fiber of his being, but he still couldn’t watch.
Tommy rubbed the baby’s head along his face and back and forth they coddled each other, until the baby whimpered in her sleep. Justin glanced at his brother to check that he wasn’t losing control. So far Tommy was excited and breathing in the scent deeply. Maybe his rubbing the child all over his head was a little much, but until that moment the child hadn’t seemed bothered. Justin worried and urged his brother to hurry.
Tommy’s lips parted as he held the child under the arms, allowing the baby’s body to stretch and unfurl. He shoved his face into the baby’s stomach and a low growl vibrated through the room. “Tommy stop, we don’t have time.”
But Tommy was lost in the rapture of his feeding. He nibbled behind the baby’s ear, leaving small red nip marks up the baby’s neck. The child began to kick her legs, her arms flailing. She was about to release the flood gates, but Tommy didn’t seem to care. His hair covered the baby’s face muffling her cries of protest.
Tommy shoved the baby away from his face, holding her out toward Justin. Justin took the baby and began wrapping her back inside her pink blanket. Tommy was panting, watching his brother’s movements with excitement. Panic was rising in Justin. He needed to get his brother out of there now before he completely lost control. Tommy crouched and began sniffing through the room, rubbing against things like a cat greeting his owner. He clobbered his way through the room touching everything, caressing things the baby had used as he pushed a mechanical swing which screamed a high pitched screech.
Justin was startled and froze, having just placed the baby down in her crib safe and sound. Tommy loped back over to the baby sniffing at her in frantic breaths. The baby girl opened her mouth and wailed; a screech from the swinging chair too much for her ears to bear. Justin grabbed Tommy by the collar and ran out of the room, dragging his brother behind. They half-slid down the stairs as lights crashed through the darkness behind them. The baby girl was crying after Tommy’s attentions and Justin knew that he was racing for both their lives.
He hit the kitchen half sliding into an island counter area its sharp marble corner jabbing into his side. Justin wanted to scream with the pain, but followed Tommy down the stairs to the basement clutching his side. His brother looked back with the question written all over his face. “Go… I’m fine.” Justin whispered. He could hear people walking above them, heading to check in on their baby girl.
By the time they got back out of the house, the entire second floor was lit. Tommy was crouched low to the ground and moving faster than his brother had ever seen. They had never gotten that close to getting caught and Justin had never been injured. He wasn’t about to let them get caught now, injured or not.
The two boys stuck to the shadows only slowing when the house was no longer in sight. Breathing heavily, Justin stopped, grabbing at his side. One hand propped on his knee he looked at Tommy. Tommy’s cheeks were flushed and though he looked sated, Justin knew Tommy was struggling. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He asked urgently.
“God, Justin, I want more. I want more. The innocence of that new baby smell. Please Justin we have to go back. I need it, please, please Justin, we have to go back.” Tommy writhed with pleasure his face a mask of pain. “I’m still so hungry, Justin. Pleeease!” He moaned.
Justin and Tommy had stopped back at the large pine tree in front of their house. “Tommy you know we can’t. This was bad enough. You’ve gotten your fill of the scent of innocence, so now let’s just let it do its work, feeding your body, and get back home. You’ll feel better soon, I promise, okay?”
The wild look that haunted Tommy’s eyes began to subside. His breathing was returning back to normal and the flush to Tommy’s cheeks subsided. His shoulders slacked and he glared at his brother. “Fine.”
Tommy followed his brother back into their house as quietly as they left. Justin’s nerves sang until he was able to creep back into his own room with Tommy safely tucked away inside his own bed. Sometimes he couldn’t believe Tommy was so young and yet…not.
Justin closed his eyes and recalled the look on his brother’s face as he sucked the essence of the innocent child out of the top of her head. He knew that this would be the last time Tommy would be sated by just scenting. His feedings were growing more urgent and more frequent. Justin squelched hard on the feeling of disgust that threatened to over take his love for his brother.
His mind was restless. Justin knew what was coming, what would be required next. He just needed to muster up the strength to do it. Tommy would need more than the scent of innocence. He would need blood. Justin had always vowed to help his brother and he wouldn’t break that promise now.
He swung his legs over the side of his bed and let them dangle for a minute. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. Slowly he slipped off his bed, pivoted on his tip toes to face the bed, and ran his hand underneath the mattress. He found what he’d hidden there, so many years before, and pulled it out. The long blade sparkled in the moonlight though the fit in his hand wasn‘t quite as good as it once had been. Justin had grown since he’d hidden the knife. Gripping the handle, he stole out of his room and walked toward his brother’s; his heart breaking inch by inch.
Tommy’s door was slightly open and Justin could hear his brother’s rhythmic snoring just beyond. He took a deep breath and crept into Tommy’s room. A few paces further and he was standing over the brother he had loved and protected since the day he had been born. Tommy was sleeping peacefully. Justin etched his brother’s face into his memory, every line, each contour, the rose to his cheeks and his mop of bed-head forming already.
Tommy loved his brother so very much. He wouldn’t let him loose any more of himself to the need. As he’d helped his brother feed all these years, now he would help his brother release that need and be free. Raising the knife over his head, he whispered, “I’m sorry, Tommy, I love you.”
The blade slammed down into Tommy’s chest with a thud. Tommy’s eyes shot open and bulged as he reached to touch the blade sunk half- way into his chest. He opened his mouth, gurgling, his eyes searching for Justin. “I’m here, Tommy. I’m here.” Justin said placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder, trying to stay strong.
Tommy gurgled and yet managed to speak past the blood filling his throat. “I love you too, Justin.” Blood stained his blankets and began to drip onto the floor. Justin sank down and watched it pool before him. Tears poured down his face. His brother had known it was time. Justin tried to ease the ache in his heart with that knowledge. He would always love Tommy. He reached up and patted his lifeless leg, still covered by the blood soaked blanket. “Be free, Tommy,” he whispered. As he stood to leave, the light penetrated the darkness severely. Justin’s parents stood in the doorway. His mother gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Justin’s father came into the room and hugged his oldest son tightly.
“He couldn’t just scent anymore could he?” His father asked quietly.
“No, Dad, he would have eaten her then had I not been there.” Justin answered with a sob.
His father rubbed his back, “It’s okay, son. You did everything you could. We all knew it would come to an end. It’s okay. It’s okay.” His father soothed. “Go back to bed, we’ll…” His father stumbled, at a loss for words. “We’ll handle the rest.”
His mother, racked with grief stepped into the room and fell upon her son, sobbing. “Go on, son.” His father repeated.
He nodded and turned to go back to his room. As Justin gave up his consciousness to the nether regions of his mind, he prayed their mother would never get pregnant again.
*
Kerry Morgan has been dishing up terror for over thirty years now and she still adores it. She's had a few publishing credits in Ezines. Kerry has a novel called The Astral Avenger and is working on a sequel. She will have two shorts published in the Ladies of Horror Anthology, and will be participating in the PI-Con4 in Enfield, Massachusetts this year. This marks her first and hopefully not last short story inside SNM Horror Mag. Please visit her sites and send her comments on her story at: www.kerryamorgan.com and also www.paganimagination.com. Kerry just launched Pagan Imagination and we support her.
Kerry Morgan
Stacy Bolli / Swamp Serenade
Swamp Serenade
Stacy Bolli
I scurried about like a little crab gathering our supplies for what would be the quintessential fishing trip with my only son. We were headed down to southern Florida to the famed Lake Okenow. The brochures promised pristine nature and a lake abundant with fish. We rented a small cabin in what the rental agent assured me was a very remote and quiet location. We hitched our small boat onto the trailer and organized our tackle. I was going to create a childhood memory for my son to cherish all of his life. It would be the ideal time to talk of the future and also to surprise him with our next venture, car shopping. He would need a reliable vehicle for college. I smiled to myself as I daydreamed of a touching scene in mind when suddenly my wife's blatant squawking shattered my fantasies. Damn that woman! I reluctantly got up to see what she was howling about now.
That evening, when all was finished, we retired early to assure adequate sleep for our start in the morning. I climbed in bed next to my wife. I slipped my hand under the sheet and attempted to stir my wife’s attention by rubbing her back. She just grunted and swatted my hand away. I sighed and rolled over. This was the usual reaction but sometimes I got lucky and she threw me a bone. Then I closed my eyes and welcomed my dreams...
We loaded up and headed out just before dawn, reaching our destination by late afternoon but couldn't have reached it fast enough. Hundreds of miles listening to my wife’s rambling and I was ready to dip Q-tips into battery acid and insert them into my ears to deafen myself.
We turned off the highway and followed a dirt road leading towards the swamp. We seemed to endlessly twist and turn deeper into the marsh. Water began to approach both sides of the road and when I looked down from the driver's window I could see the bugs scurrying about to avoid our tires.
The sun was hanging low in the sky when I pulled to our respectable looking cabin along the water. It had a long dock attached to the porch adorned with wooden rocking chairs. We backed the trailer into the water and lowered and anchored the boat to the dock. I pulled the car back up and we eagerly went to explore our new temporary home.
The inside of the little cabin was terrific. It had a wood-burning fireplace and various oils of fishing spots. On the side of the cabin hung an enormous snake skin.
“What is that from?” Chad asked pointing to the skin.
“It is a snake skin and unusually large. I sure hope we don't run into one of his relatives out here.” I grinned at Chad to ease his worry.
“There are a lot of coral snakes out here,” my wife chimed in, “Remember, red on black is a friend to jack and red on yellow is a most dangerous fellow!”
I smiled as I recalled the rhyme and it drew me back into my childhood years. It was taught to us to help differentiate between a poisonous Coral snake and the harmless King snake, nearly identical aside from their color patterning.
We stayed inside the cabin that night and decided to save the fishing for the next morning. I had packed three fillet mignons to celebrate our first night together in nature. The meat was beautifully marbled and I cooked it perfectly. We sat at the end of the dock to enjoy our steaks and watch the sunset. As we ate Diane made a face.
“This steak is overdone, Paul. I like mine medium rare and this is like a piece of rubber,” Diane complained to me.
I raised my eyebrows and pointed my knife to her, “The steak looks red inside to me. Just eat the meat.”
“You have ruined a perfect steak!” Diane's voice raised a pitch and the hackles on my neck rose.
Diane stood up and picked up the steak and waggled it in my face. Specks of hot blood flew from the steak and burned my cheeks.
“It is not hard to cook a steak, you simpleton. Men have been doing it for centuries!” Diane flung the steak over her head like a Frisbee and it sailed over the water and it smacked the surface with a small splash. “Now maybe the gators can find some joy in the charred meat -- if it doesn't rip apart their intestines!”
Chad just kept his head turned down to the water, used to his mother's little psychotic tantrums. I am sure there is some kind of chemical imbalance with her and I have urged her to seek medication. She would just snip back in reply that this was a man's way of keeping his woman meek and demanded that I shut up.
Diane was now thankfully quiet as she sulked and munched on a bag of chips. I finished my steak, enjoying it to the last bite. The sun set and the mosquitoes began to swarm so we moved inside the cabin. After a cup of coffee and some hot chocolate for Chad we retired to our beds. The night was beautiful, almost enchanted; the nocturnal singing scarcely interrupted my sleep. The angelic notes reverberated on the wind and I smiled drifting back into slumber.
Sunrise came early and Diane decided to stay in the cabin while Chad and I explored around on the boat. Diane wanted to paint on her canvass and enjoy the quiet. I eagerly agreed with her that she should stay on land. It was going to be ideal and I was ready for some bonding with Chad.
We loaded up and I grabbed a map of the waterways, supplied by the rental company. We packed up some sodas and sandwiches and headed out into the orange morning light.
We slowly idled along the water channels in search of the lake. I carefully followed the map's directions that should have led us directly to Lake Okenow. The channels seemed to narrow and the trees closed in over our heads. We headed forward for a few minutes when Chad began to look worried.
“Dad, I think we’re lost. We shoulda been to the lake.”
“We’re fine. The season has just dried up the water beds. We’ll follow it through,” I assured him -- but wasn't convinced myself. The enchantment of the swamp serenaded a chirping orchestra.
The channel ended in a dilapidated, tiny shanty buried among the trees.
“I’m going to see if anyone is home and ask for directions,” I informed Chad.
Chad nodded and we tied the boat to the cabin's little dock and walked up the porch. The damp boards creaked under our weight and the entrance was dark with a dense blanket of Spanish moss.
“Watch your step,” I warned Chad as I softly knocked on the shabby door. I was almost afraid I would push the fragile door over with my hands simple weight. A scrawny old man slightly opened the door and peered out at us suspiciously.
“Hi, we’re a little lost. I was hoping that you can give us some assistance, sir.” I asked politely, trying to mask my revulsion of the overwhelming smell of dead fish. The man's rakish hair was long and disheveled, so greasy it appeared wet; his face wrinkled with age and stained with nicotine. His beard was long neglected and woven into a tangled braid that was slung over his scrawny shoulder. The strangest feature of this quirky man was his necklace. It was a string of baby turtle shells fastened together by some type of dried animal hide.
“Hmpf,” he answered and promptly shut the door.
I put my foot in its path and said, “Please sir, we are just trying to get to Lake Okenow to do some fishing.”
The old man looked at us for a moment longer and nodded. “Stand over there and I'll fetch a map from out back,” he ordered and pointed to a far corner of the leaning porch. He turned to walk into the shack but abruptly looked back and emphasized, “Don't come inside this house, you may uncover some unwanted surprises...” he said smiling, almost cockily, exposing a single, brown snaggletooth hanging down from his withered gum. He turned back into the shack chuckling softly at his own clever thoughts and slammed the door violently behind him.
Chad and I stood silently staring at the door in surprise of this weird encounter when the door slowly began to reopen. It had opened wide enough to expose to us the shack's dingy contents. Curiosity got the best of me and I looked over to Chad and gave him a mischievous smile. I slowly crept over to the open doorway and I could hear Chad's urgent pleading for me to turn back. I looked to Chad and put my finger to my lips to silence him.
I stepped to the edge of the doorway and scanned the scantily furnished room. The wall was adorned with animal skins and some bizarre charcoal drawings of a naked woman draped over a giant turtle shell. The room held one table that was perched aside a filthy chair matted with some unknown black gunk. On the table one photo was displayed with obvious pride. The gleaming silver frame was large and ornate and it held a photo of a young couple locked in loving embrace. I looked closer to the photo and I was surprised to see it was a much younger and happier version of the swamp rat. The woman nestled in his arms was quite beautiful, a brunette with the biggest, bluest eyes I have ever seen. I wondered what became of her.
My eyes swung to an oddly placed mound resting in the corner of the room. The mound was covered with a filthy crocheted blanket. I inspected the mound for a second longer when something suddenly fluttered from underneath.
I turned back to face Chad, “Stay where you are! I think he is holding something or someone.”
Chad's eyes widened and he nodded silently to me. I crept over to the mound and ripped the blanket to the floor. I gasped when I saw an impossibly large turtle shell. I bent down to the shell and rapped on the top. I tried to look in the front cavity but it seemed empty.
I noticed a shackle leading into a hole where the turtle's hind leg would have been tucked. I reached over and yanked on the chain. I was horrified when a human foot emerged from the cavity. The foot was filthy and shackled around the ankle. I looked over at Chad and frantically pointed to the appendage making a hissing noise.
Then two hands emerged from the front of the shell. The fingers were fused together to resemble a flipper. Around one flipper was a crude bracelet made out of turtle shells, which matched the old man’s. The other foot poked out and slowly a head emerged into light. I gaped in awe as the head was human in style. It was totally bald and covered with smooth, flesh colored scales. It had a slightly upturned nose with a smattering of freckles across the bridge. Its nostrils were fashioned into upturned slits.
The creature opened its large eyes and I was amazed to see the color was a clear, baby blue. The eyes were rimmed with long, curled lashes that it fluttered to me giving it a cherubic appearance. The creature looked a bit surprised but offered me a shy smile with a pink bow-shaped mouth. Those lips, the creature drew me in with those impossibly perfect lips.
“Hello, new friends.” it said quietly with a smooth, melodic voice that was quite familiar to me. Chad was immediately beside me to offer a tentative greeting in return.
“I am very happy to talk to you, but you shouldn't be here. Hank, the owner, is a very dangerous man.” The creature gave me a small smile. “It really has been so long since I have seen another human!”
I shifted my gaze off the creature's baby blue's enough to glance out the little window that streamed in daylight from above us. It was covered with numerous scorpions and frogs. They seemed to be frozen as they clung to the glass, watching us intently.
The creature followed my gaze to the window to see what got my attention. He gave the window a low hum deep from his belly and opened his mouth widely and released a smooth, harmonious chirp. I have heard this voice before carried by the wind into my dreams. The various creatures hanging on the window immediately parted and scampered off the pane.
“Don't worry about my friends, they are just curious. They won't hurt you, I asked them to respect you.” now smiling broadly showing off its perfect row of white teeth.
I nodded and asked, “You can communicate with them?”
“Yes, I have been in this cabin for so long I have learned their language. They give me great company, but yet they are too terrified to help me.” The thing seemed to be deep in thought. “Maybe you can help me out...I have never known anything else but this lonely cabin. I have always been here under Hank's control. He raised me from a baby and taught me the simple ways of the human world, but I have never been able to leave this shack. This little window has been my only glimpse of the outside world. Hank keeps me here inside this cabin because he believes I have been sent by the devil. He thinks he is saving the world by holding me captive. That is not the case. I don't remember exactly how I came to be and all that I really want to do is roam the swamp with my friends. Will you please help me? I want to know what life is like outside of here; my natural habitat.” He batted his beautiful long lashes at me almost seductively.
“What do you want from me?” I asked carefully.
“Get rid of the old man, set me free. That is it. And no one will ever miss that dirty old swamp rat.”
I contemplated this for a minute and felt it was the right thing to do given the circumstances of his captivity.
Then Chad grabbed my arm. “Please Dad, you have to help him. I see the sadness in him, look at his eyes! I think he may be an angel.”
Chad was never very religious but I, too, saw the same inner light. I nodded to the creature and threw the blanket back over him. I quickly scrambled back outside and took my place next to my son. Chad and I stood quietly waiting for Hank to return.
Hank finally opened the door and he threw the map onto the floor of the porch.
“I highlighted your route in yellow. Follow it back home and stay away from my cabin. Next time I may shoot you.” He scowled and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from his cooler. Hank unscrewed the lid and took a large slug. “What are you waiting for? Leave!”
He did not have to tell us twice. We quickly left the cabin. When we settled back in the boat I looked at the map. It was dirty and hard to discern. The wind began to blow and that haunting song lifted into the air. I looked at the channel, surprised to see that the turtles had assembled in front of our boat in the water; their shells like a beacon. The turtle creature must have summoned them with his singing.
“They want us to follow them!” Chad excitedly said.
“I think you’re right. Okay, follow the turtles!”
We slowly let them lead us back to our cabin. When we reached the clearing, the turtles parted and disappeared into the swamp.
We decided to play it safe and fish the rest of the day from the dock. We kept our little adventure a secret from Diane. She probably would have been furious for me endangering Chad. We cooked up the fish we caught that night and told ghost stories around the fireplace safe from the insects swarming outside.
That night I was plagued with strange dreams. In my dream I played my usual role in seducing Diane. To my surprise she threw me a bone. She stood at the end of our bed and let her nightie fall to the floor. To my delight her back had become a patchwork of shiny, green shells. I had never seen her more beautiful! Then regretfully I woke. I turned to face her with hope she held the beauty. I was disappointed and angered to see there was no shell. In its place was smooth skin, glowing in the silver moonlight. I never wanted so badly to shred her perfect flesh with my bare hands.
The next morning I woke to Diane screaming at the window. I jumped up and joined her. There were hundreds of turtles carpeting the little yard surrounding the cabin. They were all scurrying about, climbing over and crawling under each other.
“I’m going to the ranger station I saw a mile or so down the road. You and Chad stay inside, please.” I pleaded with Diane and for once she did not back talk me. I would have loved to throw her among the turtles but I needed her to watch over Chad.
I grabbed my shotgun and walked to the door. Diane was silent and Chad was looking mildly concerned. He knew what this meant. I walked out the door and down the dock to the boat.
The turtles were already waiting for me when I launched the boat into the water. They looked at me anxiously, ready to lead me to my destination. As I idled the channel the haunting melody began. I let the ripples guide me to the little shack. All was very quiet and still. Even the buzz of the insects seemed to have ceased.
I tied to the dock and walked into the shack without hesitation. I found the old man draped over the turtle crying.
“I know why you are here. I beg you, for the sake of mankind do not set this abomination to the world! You’re going to open Pandora's Box!” His tears made clear trails through the filth caked on his skin.
“This creature is of God. He has the voice of the angels. He has my devotion and my promise. Now step aside, Hank. I don't want to kill you, but I will if you stand in my way.”
Hank shakily stood to his feet and dug around in his pocket. He withdrew a key from his tattered trousers.
“You don’t know what you’re doing but I see he has claimed your soul. May God have mercy on you.” He shook the key at my face.
I reached for the key slowly, keeping my gun aimed to his face. This lunatic truly thought he was doing God's work. My fingertips grazed the key and it was then that Hank attacked. He sank his single snaggletooth into my hand and I swiped at this head with the wooden end of my shotgun. He fell to the floor, bleeding from his nose and mouth. My hand throbbed from where he bit me. I looked down and was appalled to see his single snaggletooth embedded in my flesh.
“Fool! You are a fool!” Hank cried and bolted into the back of the shack. The turtle creature quickly withdrew his head and let out a smooth, high-pitched cry. I jumped up on the couch as hundreds of snakes slithered from between the floor planks and streamed out the back of the shack. Under strict orders the snakes did not hesitate as they locked onto their target.
I bent down and unlocked the turtle’s shackles. “Now you are free.” I smiled into his huge blue eyes. I quickly got back to my feet before the old man had returned with his shotgun.
“You will be rewarded and the swamp will never forget you and your son. You will always be royalty in this swamp.”
I watched the turtle turn and lumber out the front door. He headed to the water and to a new life. I climbed back into my boat and worked the tooth embedded in my flesh free with my fishing knife. I released the tooth and dropped it into my pocket.
When I returned to the cabin I found Chad sitting there on the rocking chair as Diane paced the yard.
“Where have you been? The turtles almost killed us and you run away in your boat like a yellow coward! Chad could have been killed!” Diane screamed and frantically waved her hands, spittle flying from her mouth.”
I sighed, “The turtles are gone, right? It looks like the mission was accomplished.” I gave her a smug little smile when a slight breeze began to rustle the trees. I could see Diane's hair lifting in the wind as she turned her face to the sky. The beautiful swamp melody began.
“What is that...?” Diane asked the sky frowning at the clouds.
The notes became louder and I looked to Chad, “Get into the car now and drive to the ranger station!”
“Dad, I have no license...”
The notes began to intensify and I shouted to Chad, “Go now! Wait for me at the ranger station.”
Chad nodded and grabbed the keys from me and jumped into our car and roared down the dusty dirt road.
Diane continued to look at the sky. “It’s sooo beautiful,” she whispered as the snake emerged. It streaked swiftly to Diane and slithered up her torso and latched itself onto her eye lid. Diane screamed and whirled to face me. The snake swung back and forth like some kind of pendant. I ran to Diane and grabbed the hanging snake with both of my hands and yanked. The snake tore free and a piece of Diane's eyelid still remained in its mouth. I knocked the snake back onto the ground and surprisingly, it didn't attack me. It just rapidly slithered into some nearby brush. Luckily it was a black snake.
Diane lay on the ground weeping and holding her eye. I tried to stand her to her feet when I heard small ripples coming from the canal. I looked over and could see three large gators lumbering out of the water. Their eyes locked onto Diane and I pushed her in the cabin.
“Get inside now, run Diane!” I stood my ground and began to take shots at the reptiles but my aim was useless and I turned and ran back into the cabin.
I slammed the door shut behind me and was greeted by the bloody figure of Hank. Hank stood in the middle of the room gripping Diane firmly by the hair. With his other hand he was wielding a large blade; the handle fashioned out of tiny turtle shells.
Diane whimpered pleading to me. Her lip was quivering.
“Shut up, bitch” Hank ordered as he shook her head violently by the strands he held. Hank's body was quite bloody and covered with numerous small puncture wounds, evidently from doing battle with the snakes. Dangling from one earlobe was the decapitated head of a coral snake. Its fangs still firmly implanted into his flesh. I hoped the snake's fangs were still pumping venom into his vile body…
Hank looked up to me slowly; obvious the venom was beginning to take its toll and he struggled with forming his words.
“My wife Trudy was taken from me long ago giving birth to that abomination you set free to this world. She birthed that mutation into and what did that evil son of a bitch do in return? He shredded my beloved Trudy. Tore my baby apart like a piece of pulled pork! He took my wife…and now I am going to take yers!”
Hank fell to his knees and attempted to plunge the blade into Diane's chest, but his reflexes were dulled from the venom's effect. Diane rolled from under his grasp and he succeeded in planting the blade into the hardwood floor.
I saw my chance and quickly ran over and pulled the knife free. I held the blade over my head and brought it down swiftly into the center of Hank's scrawny bird chest. The large blade buried deep and I could feel it strike the hard wooden surface as it exited Hanks frail little body. I worked the handle back and forth and could hear the snapping of Hank's fragile ribs. He spit blood into the air and gurgled a breath that I assumed was his last.
Covered with his blood, I scooped up the thin man and looked down at Diane. Crazy bitch or not she was still mine and mother to my only son. For now she was needed.
“Who was that and how did he know you?” she asked shocked.
“Some crazy old man living in a shack down the swamp. Chad and I got lost, so I asked him for directions back here.
“Get his body out of here now! I’m going to be sick!”
“I will, honey. Now go lie down and I’ll be in as soon as I’m done burying his body in the swamp. If we say nothing, no one will be the wiser if he goes missing. Remember, he attacked us; our family.”
“Agreed. We say nothing. Now get him out of here!”
I nodded and carried his narrow frame toward the door. When I saw her go in the room, I headed for the door. When I opened it I was shocked to see the turtle waiting for me.
“Put him on my back,” The turtle instructed me. “He was my burden to start with and the battle should have been fought with me. Give me his body.”
I nodded and draped the bloody Hank over the turtle. His arms and legs spread eagle to each corner of the shell and then I felt he was secure enough for whatever trip that lay ahead. I nodded to the turtle and it turned and began to lumber toward the water. I watched them approach the banks when I saw Hank's foot twitch.
“Wait, he forgot something!” I cried to the turtle and he turned to face me with a puzzled look in his blue eyes. I ran over to Hank and reached under his face and grabbed that filthy woven beard. I yanked his head up to me and he looked to me with his eyes rolling in their sockets. I reached into my trousers and retrieved the snaggletooth.
“You forgot something, Hank.” Then I pushed the decayed tooth between his withered and bloody gums. The tooth throttled in Hank's windpipe briefly and then he fell silent. The turtle resumed his trek to the murky channel.
I watched him tow Hank’s limp body out of sight as the rescue sirens announced their impending approach. Chad did as he was told with bringing back the rangers. By then Hank was well submerged in the swamp, tied tightly to the turtle, leaving no traceable evidence. I suppose it was my payment for setting him free. But now I had some explaining to do -- to the rangers and to Diane…once I figured this all out myself.
Now that the serpent had returned to his swampy wasteland, he could now be the Leviathan he was destined for; to unleash Hell from down under in the marshy abyss and rise the tides so the lands may overflow; to bury cities and drown out the coastlands until the murky waters from hell consume the buildings, replacing them with marshlands and pollution. This was his destiny. He shall increase the temperature of the oceans and create a wrath of hurricanes and tsunamis in his wake. There will be flood and famine as prophesied…for when you uncover the mask of the turtle creature inside the shell, take off the S… and welcome to Hell!
Some folk just don’t listen to their elders…
*
Stacy Bolli makes her return appearence to SNM MAG. Her first published piece, "The Rock Garden," chilled us in ecstasy and awe with a strangely unique theme and twist. Truly, a bold and daring story. Horror and sex have taken on a whole new meaning! Now she returns to SNM with an even more bizarre and intriguing offering in Swamp Serenade; a horror fantasy tale with a twist. Stacy hails from Florida and is married with 3 children. Check out her Myspace page and befriend her. Give her some feedback and support for this most interesting story.
Stacy Bolli
Brian Johnpeer / February 14th
February 14th
Brian Johnpeer
Danny stumbled in from the garage to the hallway just twenty five minutes short of midnight, and Shari was up waiting, ready for what he had to say. She had been prepared for some time now, six, perhaps even seven months, but she lost tally of time. She never thought that he would be so bold as to choose Valentine’s Day to break it off. February 14 was their fifth anniversary for Christ sake and the Valentine’s Day prior to their wedding he had proposed to her at The Firehouse in Old Town Sacramento. Danny and Shari had been married two years to the day; most of which had been good. In fact the bad had evolved in July or August, but once again, Shari had lost track of time. What she did know was that the bad had begun when Danny picked up a new literary agent, Melissa Nesler, of M. Nesler Literary Agency. Melissa lived in Sacramento, just fifteen miles north of Elk Grove where Danny and Shari lived.
She insisted that she could turn Danny’s ham and egg novels into New York Times bestsellers if he was willing to invest the time to polish them. Most of that time had stretched deep into the night and, on occasion, the wee hours of the morning. Shari was confident and not once suggested that he had indulged in an affair with the blonde woman who had beautifully crafted tits by the best surgeon in Sacramento. Melissa was sexy indeed. Even Shari had been attracted to her when they first met.
Earlier that evening…
The phone rang at four-fifty-five and Shari picked up.
“Hello.”
“Hi Shari, has Danny left yet?” Melissa asked.
Shari looked over her shoulder. “No, he’s still in the shower.”
“Good. Tell him our reservation has been pushed back to seven.”
Danny slowly filled the doorway, tightening a black tie around the collar of his white shirt.
“I’ll let him know,” Shari said, and placed the phone back on the base.
“Who was that?” he asked stretching his neck like a turtle.
“Melissa. She said your reservation has been postponed until seven.”
“Son-of-a-bitch!” he said.
The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed; it was five. She picked up a bottle of cabernet and two glasses, smiled, and asked if he would like to toast to their anniversary.
Danny flashed Shari a look as if he didn’t hear the question right. “I’ve got a lot of work, Shari. You know I can’t drink. I’ve gotta edit Midnight Whispers with Melissa tonight. I have a deadline.”
“But it’s our anniversary, Danny. Can’t you tell her that you are going to have dinner with me?” Shari poured wine into one of the glasses.
Danny exhaled as if the question hurt. “You know I need to put in the time if I’m going to make the bestseller list.” He paused. “Can’t you give me some slack? I’m doing this for us, Shari!”
“Melissa said that you are going to The Firehouse,” Shari sipped her wine while looking at Danny with deviant eyes.
Danny looked baffled. “She told you that?”
Shari nodded. “You are going to dinner with Melissa to our restaurant on our anniversary.”
“It’s a Goddamn business meeting, Shari. Give me a fucking break. We are going to thrash out chapters thirteen and…”
“It’s our Goddamn anniversary. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” Shari raised her voice.
“I’m not going to sit here and argue with you.” Danny grabbed his jacket and pulled his Mercedes keys from his slacks pocket and gazed back at Shari. “You really need to grow up!” he said, before slamming the garage door behind him.
“I’m not the one who needs to grow up, Danny. You do,” she said under her breath and smiled into her wine as she swirled the glass.
*
Shari took a shower, put on her jeans and a cream turtleneck sweater and patiently waited until 7:00 In the meantime she indulged in another glass of wine. She briefly rummaged through Danny’s closet and checked his jacket pockets, shoe boxes, and even shoes but found nothing but a ten dollar bill and a fresh roll of silver duct tape. She brought the tape downstairs and placed it on the table next to the wine bottle. When seven o’clock rolled around Shari grabbed her car keys and hopped in her Accord and drove off.
She arrived in Old Town Sacramento fifteen minutes later and took advantage of the valet parking since rain was soaking the earth with large drops of water. Even a sprint from the parking structure would surely soak her to the bone. She entered the brick building and she was immediately greeted by a semi-bald man wearing a black coat, white shirt, and a bowtie.
“Do you have a reservation, ma’am?” the maître d’ asked.
“No, but I’m not planning to stay. I just needed to check up on my husband.”
The maître d’ raised his bushy eyebrows then scanned the room with Shari. “If you do locate him will there be any…” he cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, “…trouble?”
“There he is; and to answer your question, no. He’ll get his at home. He has been cheating for about six months now; I just wanted to see how serious they are.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, he’s probably going for the proposal tonight…oh, shit!” Shari ducked behind a pillar. “Did he see me?” she whispered. She knew that he had. She wanted him to see her.
The bald man looked at Danny and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You’ve gotta be my eyes.”
“I beg your pardon,” he said.
“You’ve gotta be my eyes; tell me what they’re doing.”
“I most certainly will not. I have a job to do and if you don’t have a reservation, I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave, ma’am.”
“Fine!” Shari hollered. All but a few of the patrons stopped what they were doing and looked to see what the commotion was. “I’ll deal with you when you get home!” she said, pointing at Danny.
The diners refocused their attention on Danny and Melissa, as Shari exited.
*
Shari rolled the tape from one hand to the other, in a hypnotic state that was momentarily interrupted by the whining chain and the motor of the garage door.
Shari wanted to run to Danny and implore him to curtail relations with Melissa so that they could get over this and make their marriage work, but that was just the wine talking. She had already made up her mind and instead let her emotions of hate, anger, and despondency bleed through.
Danny closed the door from the garage gingerly and made his way through the dark kitchen where he opened the fridge and pulled out a can of Budweiser. He popped open the lid and swallowed three large gulps then placed the can on the counter.
“Happy anniversary, dear,” Shari’s voice was monotone and emotionless.
Danny spun around as if he’d been shot in the ass by a pellet gun. “
Shari flipped the light on and Danny shielded his drunken eyes.
She tilted her head to one side and said, “Oh a bit too much to drink?”
Danny stepped heavily towards Shari to put hands on her shoulders, but she refused him by stepping back.
“Look, baby, I’m sorry. Melissa and I had to stay late to edit my novel. I just lost track of time.” Danny wasn’t just drunk, he was hammered.
“No, happy anniversary, no, happy Valentine’s Day?” Emotion was still void of her voice and face.
Danny pulled out a box of cigarettes and thumbed one clumsily from the pack. He found his mouth with the cigarette and reached into his other pocket for a lighter. He pulled it out, clutching the lighter, and dropped a small blue ring box to the floor. Their eyes followed the bouncing box until it rested at Shari’s feet. They looked up at each other simultaneously and Danny lit his cigarette like he hadn’t a care in the world. He blew out a deep lungful of smoke and slurred the words. “Fuck it, I wanna divorce.”
Shari walked into the other room and picked up the empty wine bottle by the neck and went right back to where she had been standing. Her heart pumped viciously against her ribcage and her mouth became instantly dry.
“You want a what?” this time there was emotion in her voice.
“I want a…”
Before she could account for her action, the wine bottle was airborne hitting Danny in the forehead with a hollow, echoing thuump. His legs buckled as if they suddenly became unhinged, and he hit the kitchen floor; the cigarette rolled to a smoldering stop. She stooped, picked up the smoke and puffed it while gazing at Danny. A warm puddle of blood flowed from a gash above his eye. She tilted her head parallel with his. Smoke danced on her next words. “Can I think about it, sweetie?” she mocked.
She retrieved the duct tape from the dining room table and returned knowing that the chore ahead would not be easy. She didn’t have much time to accomplish it before Danny woke. She dragged him two agonizing feet before her back knotted up. Muscle cramp she was sure, but she pressed on determined: Pulling and pushing and kicking and lifting until Danny was in a sitting position with his back against the kitchen island. Shari stretched her back, but the cramp remained. She extracted the end of tape with her teeth, stuck it to the corner of the cabinets and walked circles around the center island and her husband; once, twice, high and low. She lifted his chin and wrapped the tape just under it and once around his forehead. Kill two birds with one stone, she thought; stop the bleeding and keep his fucking head still so he will have to listen to what I have to say for a change. Shari wrapped his wrists together and then his ankles, and by the time she was finished she had spent the whole roll of duct tape on securing Danny to the kitchen island. It wasn’t a fine job. It wasn’t even good job, but he wasn’t going anywhere and that was all she'd set out to accomplish at this point.
She wiped the blood from the floor and picked up the bottle of wine and as she looked at Danny and felt the veins in her neck swell up with rage. He was at fault. He was the only one to blame. He was the Goddamn cheating motherfucker and for that he would pay. If you’re going to play, you got to pay; and Shari planned on making him pay. Perhaps an arm and a leg, she thought, or even better yet, I’ll pull a Lorena Bobbitt and castrate the bastard; Lord knows he doesn’t know how to use his pecker anyway. I’d be doing him and the women he meets in the future a huge favor. But…of course, I’ll be a sport about it. Give him a fighting chance like Lorena did John. I’ll drive up 99 and chuck his dick on the side of the highway…or maybe in the center of the highway.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Shari popped her head up; her face twisted with rage.
“What did you say?” she spoke calmly despite her crazed look.
“What are you…?” he suddenly realized that he was immobile, and tried briefly to wriggle from his confinement, but stopped. “Untie me, Shari!” He demanded. “Untie me or I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” she smiled and waited patiently for a response. “That’s what I thought. You’ll just sit there like the pathetic little worm between your legs.”
Danny said nothing. What could he say? He sat there like a mouse in a glue trap, waiting to see what would happen next.
“What is this, not good enough for you?” she yelled and lifted her turtleneck sweater exposing milky-white breasts.
Danny tried to turn away but the tape on his forehead held fast so instead he closed his eyes.
“Can’t even look at your own wife, Danny? Feeling a little guilty are we, or do you just like fat silicone tits like Melissa’s?” Shari pulled her sweater back, picked up the phone and an olive colored business card from the counter and said. “Perhaps we should call your blonde tramp over to join the party. What do you say, darling?”
Danny opened his eyes. “Where did you get that?”
“You’re in no position to ask questions. And besides, I’m in a pretty fucked up state of mind right about now, so please, don’t press your luck, or my patience.” She pressed the numbers from the card into the phone. “You might live longer,” she whispered holding the phone to her ear.
“Hi Melissa. It’s Shari. Can you come by?”
Danny eyes popped open to protest.
“Good, I’ll leave the front door unlocked.”
“Melissa will call the cops once she sees what you have done to me,” Danny said.
“Melissa? You mean that pretty little slut who likes to break up marriages?”
“She’s not a slut!” Danny retorted.
“If you know her like I know her, you would agree.”
“Just because you got the short end of the stick…”
“Now Melissa is getting the short end of the stick…we can, at the very least, agree on that,” Shari cut him off. She pulled another bottle of wine out of the pantry, read the label, and placed it on the countertop next to Danny’s Crown Royal.
Danny grimaced. He knew that his package was below standard. It was his Achilles heel.
She popped the lid open on the whiskey and before taking a mouthful, asked with a bemused look on her face, “what did she say?” she tipped the bottle up thinking of just the right words, swallowed, and continued. “What did she say about your short comings?”
Danny’s face took on a deep shade of red but he said nothing as his face quaked.
The front door opened and footfalls waltzed in through the foyer, through the dining room, and into the kitchen.
“Call the police, Melissa!” Danny pleaded, but when a desolate soul came into Danny’s peripheral vision holding two gallons of gasoline, he became bemused.
“You got the money?” the homeless man slurred.
Shari pulled a crisp hundred dollar bill from her purse and displayed it between her middle and index finger.
He nodded and began touring the lower level of the house, splashing gasoline from a red plastic container with a yellow nozzle.
Danny looked at Shari and she smiled back, as if to say that she was strides ahead of him. At that moment he flashed back to signing the house over to his agent Melissa in anticipation of divorcing Shari.
It was perfect and all of the royalties that he would make from his blockbuster novel, A Day by Myself, were to pass through Melissa’s hands first, Shari wouldn’t be able to collect a dime if she petitioned for spousal support. On paper Danny made nothing and he was technically broke.
The old man with the gas can stopped and looked down at Danny with lethargic eyes. “This him?” he burped.
“Yes,” Shari answered.
The scruffy man lifted the can and poured gas over Danny’s head. “Unless yer name’s Houdini, I s’pose you’ll be meeting yer maker tonight.”
Danny gasped realizing the reality of his mortality. His eyes burned from the gas as he tried to see. “I got more money,” Danny spat gas from his lips desperately. “Get me out of here and I’ll give you a thousand dollars.”
“I ain’t stupid mister. Y’aint got a thousand dollars. That much money don’t really exist.” The man’s smile exposed a lifetime of neglected, hit-and-miss, yellow-brown teeth.
Danny watched as a black twelve inch frying pan was raised above the transients head giving him a temporary black halo before crushing the crow of his skull flat. The crunch of flesh and bone made Danny’s stomach churn. The homeless man collapsed face first on the floor while Shari stood behind him with both hands still clutching the skillet handle. The dirty man’s face landed in Danny’s lap giving him an excellent view of the brains and blood that had escaped from his cracked skull and split scalp. Danny vomited. Jack and beer spilled down his chin and he sucked back for air, but aspirated what liquid was in his mouth. Danny choked violently, and because his head was held fast against the cabinet with duct tape, thought surely he would drown in his own vomit.
He didn’t. Instead, his lap became warm and sticky with the homeless man’s blood. And though he flexed every fiber in every muscle he could not free himself from the duct tape. Shari placed the frying pan on one of the four grates of the stove and turned on the gas to all four burners.
Shari knelt down, reached into Danny’s slacks, and pulled out a Zippo lighter; the same lighter inscribed with their initials on the side that she had given it to him on their third date.
“Don’t do it, Shari!” Danny whimpered. “We can work this out…I promise you!”
Shari flipped the top of the lighter open and asked, “Think so?”
“I know we can. Melissa’s just a total bitch!” Danny’s eyes were wide, bloodshot, and hopeful. He had a notion he was getting through. “She forced me to go out with her,” his voice shifted with anger. “I didn’t want to, but she forced me.”
From behind the island Shari watched with glossy, teary eyes, as the flames grew tall, and smoke billowed up in thick black puffs. Shari looked back down at her spouse with a sympathetic eye and nodded.
“Please, Shari cut me loose!”
The flames grew from the carpet to the ceiling and Danny could hear the roar as he watched Melissa enter the kitchen, still shaking her head in disgust.
At last, Melissa had finally arrived and saw Danny being held captive.
“Melissa, help me! Shari’s going to kill me!” screamed Danny.
Melissa saw the raw tears in her lover’s eyes and wrapped her arms around Shari. “Everything’s going to be okay, trust me, Shari. Now let’s go.”
Melissa kissed Shari’s lips compassionately and guided her out of the burning house and into her car. They drove southbound to begin their new lives together…or so Shari thought.
*
Brian Johnpeer also makes his return appearance in SNM! His debut story "The Pen" appeared in our December issue and had placed 4 of 48 submissions, but should have placed higher. He has penned quite a few stories and has had various ezine publications. His latest story offers quite the twist and bang. He hails from Elk Grove, California with his wife and kids. Readers may contact him and visit his Myspace page for more stories. *He will be launching a website soon for all his many followers.
www.myspace.com/brian_johnpeer
Brian Johnpeer
