Lightning filled the sky and thunder rolled – and I bolted to my feet. Below me, a body bobbed in the water.
I should care.
I should do something...but can’t.
Whoever they were, they were dead and there was nothing I could do for them. I had to get away, had to leave before the storm reached me. I backed away from both body and storm, turned, and ran.
Lightning split the sky and thunder followed fast and hard, shaking the ground at my feet. I chanced a peek over my shoulder, and tripped over a tree root...
*
I awoke in the eye of a storm; no breeze, no sound, and all colour had bled from the world. Above me a funnel rippled, and a form swathed in a flowing white hooded robe descended toward me.
To my left, a body floated face-down in the river.
*
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Chapter 45
“Remember Me!”
Shannon Marie Mead
Jacksonville, Florida, USA
In the days before my birth I remember the doctor telling my mother that she wasn’t sure if my life would be long and without difficulty. I have a heart that is never going to work correctly without a transplant, and one of my arms is missing a hand. My parents were told keeping the pregnancy was not wise but my mother would not hear of it. She stood by her belief that even a few years were better than nothing.
I was born on a very stormy night so bad in fact that the lights went out just as I let out my first breath. Upon my birth the earth shook and the walls rumbled, every time I cried people would cover their ears as my shriek was enough to make a hearing person deaf. The hospital chaplain came to see my parents and confer with them about what they thought God was doing when he blessed them with a soul such as mine. Mom was dumbfounded she had no words. My father said that he was sure it was punishment for his past indiscretions.
I slowly discovered that as each day ticked by my world became more wicked and dark. By the time I was two months old both my parents lost a parent within two weeks of each other. My grandmother suffered a stroke from which she could not recover from, and my grandfather was killed by a drunk driver coming home from the grocery store. My father started going back to church he swore that all that was in me was pure evil. My shrills seemed to be less irritating though my mother had to wear ear plugs in order to be around me as she developed an anxiety condition brought on by my crying. The doctor wanted to admit her for testing but my father refused to hear of it.
The neighbor’s dog mauled six feral cats and buried their remains in a hole dug under his dog house, causing an increased number of buzzards to stake squatters’ rights on our roof top. I had difficulty breathing so I was forced to wear oxygen all day every day; something mom always made sure was in abundance so that I could live though deep in my soul I knew something was different about who I was and who I was meant to be.
At six months old I started to crawl and anything within my grasp was fair game and I found candles were a toy of choice. My mom stupidly always kept them lit and what’s worse down where I could reach them. I set the couch cushion and the cat’s tail on fire and for some strange reason it gave me pleasure in hearing the cat howl in pain.
My poor mother was beside herself. She had no idea how to handle either situation. It drove her crazy not wanting to admit it was her fault for each event as she was the one who left the fires burning. My father at this point did all he could was stay away from home for he feared me; just the look in his eye was enough to see that. My mother would discover later he had a woman on the side and they had a child the same time I was born so was my sister though she was healthy a relief to my father.
At age two I was crawling out of my crib in the middle of the night and see what kind of chaos I could create, By this time my father had left us he could stand it no longer he had a healthy child that he could be a father too without fear of losing her at an early age. My sister and I would never meet but I learned later she was became a doctor for children with autism. I’m proud of her being her older brother just wish I had been there to see it all unfold.
My mother began to slip into a state of mental illness and she started telling family members she saw the devil in me and that I was evil and mean spirited. She may have been right as more dead creatures became visible around our home. I found it pleasing to hurt innocent creatures, and watch as they anguished till the life drained out of them. I was taken to a child psychologist who determined that I was just a normal toddler with a touch of ADHD. I was sent home with a prescription and a wish of good luck to my mom. Dad had stopped coming around all together and eventually they divorced which was even worse for my mom’s illness.
I think mom really did start to see the worst in me, as she herself was afraid to be alone with me for extended periods of time. One night the storms started again and she leaned over to give me a kiss good night and she began to scream that my eyes were a shade of red, and that they were glowing. She ran to the bathroom and slammed the door and crouched in a corner and cried. She prayed for God to help her to know what to do as she was lost and needed guidance.
That night the storm grew worse and worse just like the night I was born, and all of the sudden the walls began to shake as if an earthquake was right under my house. I was thrown out of my bed and up against the wall. Mom came running out of her room screaming that the devil was coming to get her and it was my fault and she once again locked herself in the bathroom. The storm passed just as quickly as it came and it was if it had never come at all.
That night mom emerged from her cocoon of salvation and fixed my bed, tucked me in, kissed me good night and began to sing Jesus Loves Me. She ran her fingers through my hair till I fell asleep. Then as if something had overcome her she took the spare pillow off my bed, and without hesitation covered my face until all the life had disappeared out of my tiny body. A few days later my father received a phone call telling him that I was dead and that he needed to come and identify our bodies. Yes I said our bodies. A week after my mother had taken both of our lives a neighbor called reporting a foul odor emanating from our home.
The police entered our home to find my mother lying in a pool of blood on my bed room floor. After she had smothered me she slit her wrists, took me out of bed and held on to me while every last bit of blood left her body. Two bodies molded together as one once alive now dead and gone. My father went back to his other family and never looked back, never speaking of us again.
In all this story telling I realized I forgot to introduce myself to you. My name is Damian and I am an angel sent to earth by Lucifer himself to cause chaos and destruction. I have been reborn in any forms and always do my job to make the world a hated place to live. So what do you think are you game to try and beat me? If I’m able to I will try to make my way to you so we can play.
*
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Chapter 46
“The Collectibles”
Devin Berglund
Brisbane, Queensland, Australia
Four were still needed to complete his collection. He had already collected a few. They looked at him from on top of his desk. He gently tapped each of them on the head with his crooked finger. Their heads bobbed back and forth to life until they weren't moving anymore. He laughed and grabbed his white phantom mask and his black cape before leaving the house.
*
Earlier Adriana, Justice, and I helped Mom string the fake cobwebs from one side of the room to the other, but some had to be real, because this house had been vacant for a long time. The wooden steps creaked as I made my way down the stairs. The Jack-O’lantern in front of the door reminded me of my last Halloween Party many years ago. One could barely compare it to this party though because my last one was a
5th grade party in our classroom where three of my classmates came wearing the same costume as me.
Most of my childhood memories were of playing with kids we had just met in RV parks and studying on the road. I think that is why Dad decided to have a Halloween themed house warming party. He felt it would be an exciting event for us. He was right, but I think he felt bad we hadn’t had the pleasure of slumber parties with friends and school plays like most other children had. My cat sneaked up and rubbed her head on my leg while looking at me before disappearing down the steps.
I looked over the banister and tip toed down the rest of the steps into the music room where Adriana’s harp and Justice’s guitar sat in one corner. Mom had placed some new furniture in the other corner just to make sure that people wouldn’t think our house was empty. The pumpkin pie scented candles flickered. Where did everyone go? I asked myself. Suddenly loud music started drumming through the door leading to the backyard patio.
Oh, maybe they are outside. I answer my own question. My high-heel shoes clink on the wooden floor as I reach the kitchen. A knock came from the front door.
“I’m coming.” I pulled the door open to find a tall slender man with a black cane in his right hand. He resembled the Phantom of the Opera with a black cape, white gloves, and a matching mask.
“Uhh, hi!”
“Hello Tessa! How have you been” his voice was deep. He leaned in while speaking to me.
“Hi…uhh, good…” I tried to hide the uncomfortable feeling that was rising inside of me, so I bit my lip.
“Who are you?” I cocked my head to the side. His eyes were surrounded by the darkness inside his mask.
“I was the music and choir teacher at Lake County Middle School. Your brother attended many of my classes.” He offered his hand for me to shake. The hair on the back of my neck stood up straight. I was experiencing the same instinctive feeling that I imagined the cave men in my history book had felt when a saber-tooth tiger stalked them. Fight or Flight. I shook his hand. He gripped my hand tightly while smiling, and didn’t let go.
“Yes, that sounds a lot like Justice.” I said while shaking his hand awkwardly. I resisted the urge to rip my hand from his clutches and slam the door in his face. I need to be polite, but something is strange with this man, I need to find everyone else.
“Speaking of which, I need to go find him and my sister.” Chills crawled up my spine as he let go of my hand.
“But it was nice meeting you again. I think they’re on the patio.” I smiled while pointing towards the door. I heard him behind me as I slid the patio door open, my cat ran out.
I escaped to the patio after my cat while covering my eyes from the blazing torches on the edge of the grass. The music was blaring so loudly, that my ear drums were ringing. I hit the power button as silence filled the patio.
“How can you all stand the music this loud?” I said as everyone sat around the table quietly as though they didn’t hear me. I recognized my mom in her Cruella de Vill costume, but something was wrong with her face. Her mouth was gaping open; her cheeks were hallow under her skin. Her eyes were blood-shot and her skin was pale and it wasn’t from the make-up on her face. I ran up to my mother and set my head on her chest.
No heart beat.
“Mom! Come on, you can’t do this to me!” All the others around the table had the same sullen and frightened look on their faces. I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. No one was moving. Who are all these people, I wondered while I backed away from the table. Someone did this to them. Where is everyone else? I looked around for the Phantom, but he was nowhere to be seen. I thought he followed me out here.
My heart pounded faster. It felt like the world was shrinking around me, entrapping me like a snowman in a snow-globe. I couldn’t see anyone moving or hiding in the trees, but as I turned my head I saw a shadow run across the yard toward the garden shed - it was my cat. I jumped when I heard the steps creak and ran toward the shed where my cat was sitting.
“Kitty, Kitty…” I called. My cat would have usually responded when I called her, but she didn’t. Instead she sat there with her fur on end, while oddly purring calmly. Her tail went slowly back and forth without shifting her tranced stare from the second storey bedroom window.
“Psst…” a quiet voice from behind the shed called to me. I turned to see who it was.
“Jason? Is that you?” I remembered him, but his face had changed a lot since the last time I had seen him. He became my first crush when he helped me hide my string-beans in my milk container at the cafeteria for lunch.
“Yes, it is me. Come here!”
“What is going on?” I kicked off my high heel shoes and ran toward him, “Do you know where my brother and sister are?”
“No, but someone here cannot be trusted.”
“Do you know who?”
“Not really, but he had a white mask and gloves.”
I gasped as the face of the Phantom came to my mind. He was the last person I had spoken to and fit Jason’s description perfectly.
“So what are we going to do now?”
“Escape?”
“What about my brother and sister?”
“They probably already escaped with some of the other people, while I hid here.”
“Do you know what happened?”
“Just a little. I hid to see what was happening, and wish I hadn’t seen it. The Phantom was back here. When he lifted his cane, everyone around the table screamed, but it was covered with the blaring music.”
The patio’s door slid open as I hid behind the shed with Jason. I peeked out and saw the Phantom. He walked to the table and chuckled at the people. He started humming to himself and turned to look the other way. Jason and I ran to another clump of trees when all of a sudden pain shot through my legs and I couldn’t move them anymore. Jason grabbed one of his legs too.
“I can’t move.” He whispered.
“I know… I can’t either.” I felt like I was running in a nightmare, but couldn’t get away from the evil that was chasing me. I peeked to see if the Phantom was still on the patio.
“He was no longer there!” I gasped, “Where did he go?”
“Right here, dearie.” A hauntingly familiar voice responded as I looked back at Jason, who was now in the Phantom’s arms. His white gloved hand covered Jason’s mouth muffling his screams.
“Oh silence.” The man spoke.
“What do you want?”
“You… Tessa. All of you kids.” He stretched his cane out towards me, my head spun. Everything around me became larger. I must have been thrown into my snow-globe after all.
*
His collection was finally complete.
“It’s a pity you don’t know how talented you are.” He spoke to them.
But the time would come for them to know their destiny, but for now they were mere collectibles that sat on his desk approving his future plans whenever he’d bobble their heads. When he’d need them, he’d call on them and they would obey.
*
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Chapter 47
“The Dollmaker”
Michelle Patricia Browne
Calgary, Alberta, Canada
My grandmother bounced up the steps of the shop with her usual false gaiety. “You’ll love this little place,” she said. This is what I did not say: yes, I like antique shops too, but this place is very out of the way. I also did not say: Grandpa looks like he needs to be shot.
It was quite a peculiar place, but then, that describes more than fifty percent of Nova Scotia. It was a farm on the mainland, far enough from the ocean that it wasn’t in sight, yet close enough to catch brine o
n the air. It was painted the same shade of blue as a cloudy day, and the windowsills had white trim. Antique Shop, said the signs outside. Please come in.
With an invitation like that, how could I resist? I followed, not grumbling, because the little I could glimpse behind the windows looked exquisitely promising. The curtains were the prerequisite ivory lace, real Irish, from the looks of it. The door chime tinkled with a sound like the tines of a fork playing on a wooden xylophone. My grandmother, chattering incessantly at my grandfather (who grunts occasionally, blinks in a thick, sleepy way behind his camera-thickness lenses), proceeds into the den immediately to inspect the pricey antiquities of her youth: the gold-leafed plates, the china, the relics of a time when washing machines were rare beasts and cars were tinny matchboxes. I am frozen in the chandeliered entranceway. The ceilings in this house are low, and if I were just a few inches taller, I could easily reach up and remove one of the crystals, tuck in my pocket like a thief. But the golden chandelier doesn’t hold my attention for long. The next thing I see is the dolls.
They are such dolls as I have never before seen in my life. These are not the dull, daft-eyed Victorian creations my mother and grandmother had. No. Perched there on the dark violet brocade, above the intricately carved, darkly shining wood, these are dolls with a curious soulfulness. I step over to them, ignoring the entranceway to the rest of the house-cum-Antique shop. There are half a dozen here, bodies soft, slender, flowing, covered with thick, cushiony silks and velvets. They have lace at their wrists and necks, beautiful small charms stitched below their necks and in other places like jewelled embroidery. They are all dressed the way jesters are, in dramatic colours. The clothes alone would make them remarkable, but it is their faces and hands that intrigue me most, force me to kneel before them in amazement.
Their hands are smooth, more like mittens than the proper, familiarly built, five-fingered ones I am used to. The faces are smooth and flowing, as if a proper person’s face had been wrapped in a layer of misty gauze. Arching, smooth brows, pointed, vague noses, hollow eyes with painted, expressive shadows within. The mouths are lipless, the hair, painted in curling brushstrokes. They are blurred, formless, and yet oddly, frighteningly expressive, like Greek statues twisted in ecstasy, yet missing limbs. All are made of smooth white porcelain.