That Got Out of Hand

             Sunlight burst through the open shutters. Mac and Shelly leapt forward through the old wooden church doors and stumbled onto the front steps. The morning sun consumed the building behind them, flames erupted and the remaining Vampires exploded in bloody bursts. The ground outside rumbled and a chasm opened under the old church. Mac and Shelly got to their feet and ran from their crumbling footing toward the near-by woods. Thunder boomed overhead as the old church broke apart and fell into the crevasse below. Mac and Shelly dove into the tree line and just made it before the ground swallowed everything behind them, leaving only a light smoke hanging over a new pit of hell.

            “Okay, that was nuts,” said Shelly.

            “I know right? That was just crazy,” said Mac.
            “Right?! There was like, 30 vampires in there,” said Shelly.
            “More like 50,” said Mac.
            “Yeah, maybe. But like, that was just insane in there,” said Shelly.

            Mac stood up from behind the brush and helped Shelly to her feet. They dusted themselves off and looked back out over the carnage.

            “Too bad about Kelly and Steve,” said Shelly.

            “Yeah, I mean, that thing just like, swallowed them whole,” said Mac.
            “I know right?! Like where did that even come from,” asked Shelly.
            “I don’t know. Like, Hell I’m guessing,” said Mac.

            Shelly wiped her bloody hair off her forehead and put her hand in Mac’s. Mac sighed and stretched his neck.

            “I am going to be sore tomorrow,” said Mac.

            “Oh, me too,” said Shelly.
       
            Mac felt for his pockets and started digging in them.

            “Oh man, I think I left my cell phone in there. Do you have yours?”

            “No, I lost my purse when that vampire dog thing lunged at us. I threw my purse at it, remember,” said Shelly.
            “Crap. I can’t find the car keys either,” said Mac.
            “I think Kelly had them anyway,” said Shelly.

            Mac looked toward the old dirt road let led to the old church which led back towards town.

            “I guess we’re going to have to walk back to the hotel,” said Mac.

            “Ugh. Really,” pouted Shelly.
            “Yeah, sorry babe,” said Mac.

            Shelly rubbed the back of her leg.

            “Is my leg bleeding,” asked Shelly.

            “Just a little bit. It’s a long scratch, but it’s not too bad,” said Mac.
            “Oh man. That sucks,” said Shelly.

            The morning birds were chirping and the mist was burning away from the forest.

            “Well, I guess we better get a move on,” said Mac.

            “Like 100 Vampires were in there maybe,” said Shelly.
            “All I know is there was a lot,” said Mac.

            Mac put around Shelly’s waist and they started limping down the road back toward town and the old hotel where the gypsy woman told them they would only find trouble at Old Hell’s Church.

A Huge Gaping Opinion About Nothing at All (An Anniversary piece)

             This October I’ve been writing a few stories trying to offer some extra fictional fright to the Halloween season. I love writing scary little stories about the things that go bump in the night. A story about some violent monster that actually crawls out from under your bed and eats your face as you scream and kick and blood spurts all over the walls. Writing those stories is just fun. It’s an escape from the everyday horrors that constantly surround each and every one of us. But once in a while the real world creeps in to the fictional world I try to create and some attention must be drawn to it.

            Ebola sucks. There. I said it. Now everyone can relax. I’ve made it official. It is a terrifying sickness that has the potential to become something truly horrific. I wouldn’t wish Ebola on my worst enemy. It’s awful. Yet, it doesn’t mean everyone should freak the hell out. Luckily we live in one of the most medically advanced nations on the Earth and the odds of a regular Joe on the street contracting Ebola is incredibly rare. All the same I would recommend against handling any Ebola infected corpses, feces, vomit, spit or blood. If you are currently finger painting with Ebola infected feces, please stop, wash your hands and lock yourself in your room. I know that sounds a bit harsh but, c’mon, think about the many. And that probably wasn’t the shade of brown you were really going for anyway. So, wow, you double blew that one.

            Celebrity antics are the life blood of the American economy. Without Rene Zelleweger’s new face or Bill Cosby’s sexual goings-on I’m not sure what Americans would have talked about or spent their money on this week. It’s only Wednesday for that matter. I can only imagine what the rest of the week will bring. The new American currency is gossip. And perhaps saying its “new” isn’t appropriate. It’s always been our way to become fascinated by the antics of the famous. Fatty Arbuckle knew the slings and arrows of public scorn all too well. I think it directly lead to the Great Depression in some way didn’t it? Yet, the American public was rapt in the daily newspaper stories about his trial and seedy lifestyle. It was a shock that someone who made people laugh could be a damaged person underneath all that comedy obesity. I’m pretty sure there were far scarier news stories this week than what happened to Rene’s face and Bill’s…whatever Bill did. I don’t even know. Frankly, it isn’t really news. What if Rene Zelleweger got a face lift to look more like Bill Cosby?! Now that would have been news!

            The scariest story of the week for me, as a beer drinker, was the story of the guy who stole a Miller Brewing truck carrying 44,000 pounds of Miller High Life. That guy is going to have one kick ass Halloween party I bet. I wonder if Miller High Life Thief will be a popular Halloween costume this year? It’s just one of the many stories I saw this week that troubled me. The thing that really troubles me and scares me about these types of stories is how many people just believe what they read. I was at a bar a few weeks ago and a young man swore up and down that a woman was being sent to prison for ten years for allegedly twerking on Martin Luther King Jr.’s grave. I told him that I doubted very much that the story was true. He then pulled out his cell phone and showed me the “story” on some website. I read the article and shook my head. This poor guy completely believed the piece without checking the source. The web site was a satirical one, like the Onion and there was no truth to the story. I pointed out the satirical nature of the story to the young man, but he persisted in his belief that it was a true news story. Now that scared the shit out of me. It’s ignorance that scares me the most.

            Things out in the world are terrifying. Scarier than any story I could every write and throw up on my blog page. Canada is getting a taste of true American style gun violence and the Middle East is still a powder keg of uncontrolled zealotry and religious idolatry run amok. Cars are crashing, children are missing, fires are burning, old people are being abused, murderers run free, rapists stalk, and female teachers are still having sex with underage boys. The world is a very scary place. Yet, unlike the stories I write, most of the scary things in the world can be changed.

            When I write about some vicious hell spawn rising from the depths of the abyss to drink the marrow from our bones, I know that it couldn’t ever really happen. It makes the flight of fanciful imagination harmless and even enjoyable. I can even let the villainous demon win in the story and everything ends up in darkness and I’m comfortable in knowing that it’s just a silly story and there’s no truth to any of it. It’s made up in my head and can’t hurt anyone. Unless your eyesight is bad and squinting at the computer screen is giving you a headache, for that I apologize.

            The majority of the horrors in the world however, can be altered through action. We can be vigilant against the spread of an infectious disease, we can truly try to understand the Middle East and Isis so a reasonable solution can be made, and we can protect ourselves against the fear. There are always ways. I’m not advocating violence against the “evil doers” or some blanket Orwellian bureaucracy to control the masses. It really only takes an awareness and rationality to overcome the things we are afraid of. There’s no monster in the closet, only what our imagination says there is. Once Dad checks it out and shows you there are no monsters in there you can finally sleep comfortably, because he educated you and allowed you to overcome your irrational fear.

FDR said it best though truly the only thing we do have to fear is fear itself. Once the veil of fear is removed we can start behaving rationally; or at least slightly smarter than those teenagers that went to the abandoned amusement park at midnight to call upon the spirit of Binky the flesh eating clown. We have the capacity to overcome fear and make things better. Once we were able to light the darkness, the darkness became less powerful over us. It’s been repeated throughout history.

So as I roll out a few more hopefully scary stories over the next few pre-Halloween days, keep in mind that while Earth is frigging scary as hell, it isn’t scary enough to keep us frozen in fear. We are a pretty smart species to make it this far so keep an open mind, use common sense, use good judgment, and keep reading my blog. See how I threw that in there. You probably weren’t expecting that.  Also - Happy four year annniversary to A Minute With Michael!

Driver

            Carson rolled the toothpick back and forth over his lips and sighed. He looked up toward the museum’s loading bay doors and then at the clock on the dashboard of the getaway car. The piece of crap car Randy had picked up from some broad he used to mess around with on the weekends after drinking at Jerry’s place. Carson gripped the steering wheel and sighed again. It was only supposed to take ten minutes for Randy and Jerry to get into the museum, subdue the fat night watchman, steal the jewels and get out. Twelve minutes had already passed and their schedule was in severe jeopardy.

            This wasn’t professional. It was a dumb idea to get involved with these amateur thieves. Carson had pulled tons of jobs with the best kind of thieves, but times were getting pretty lean and good jobs were getting harder to come by. So when Randy suggested they knock off the new shipment of Gems & Jewels of Egypt from the museum, Carson jumped at the chance. He was a little drunk when he initially agreed to the plan. He’d been drinking too much lately. He was drinking to forget his debts, which only created more debts, which made him drink more and agree to stupid burglary plans.

            He checked the alley in the rear view and looked back and forth across the cross street for any cops or other security guards. Fifteen minutes had now passed and Carson was sweating. He had a feeling that the fat night watchman wasn’t perhaps as big of a lazy slob as Randy and Jerry had promised. “It’ll be like taking candy from a fat, lazy baby,” were Randy’s exact words.

            Carson cringed and shook his head. This was dumb.  He felt the urge to just speed off and let Randy and Jerry take the fall. It was already 4:45 in the morning and a beat up old Hyundai parked behind the museum’s loading bay doors was bound to draw attention sooner or later.  He looked down at the gas gauge and considered how much gas it would take to get to the other side of town without stopping for a re-fill. He should have had Randy pony up the cash for the gas. Carson chuckled a bit at that since he figured dumb ass Randy probably would have paid with a credit card and leave a paper trail miles long.

            The rear driver’s side door opened behind Carson and Randy jumped in. Carson jumped and nearly gagged on his toothpick. He wasn’t ready for that. He spit the toothpick out. He thought both Randy and Jerry would get in on the passenger side.

            “Drive. Now,” said Randy.

            “What about Jerry,” asked Carson.
            “Go. Just go,” said Randy.

            Carson put the car in drive and took off down the alley. How could Randy leave Jerry behind? They were like brothers.

        
            “How could leave Jerry behind man,” asked Carson as they peeled around the corner toward the highway.
            “I didn’t leave Jerry. Jerry’s gone,” said Randy.         
            “What? He took off on you,” asked Carson.
            “No. Yes. I mean, he’s, gone,” said Randy.

            Carson looked up at Randy in the rear view mirror. Randy was pale. His eyes looked deeply sunken.

            “Are you okay man,” asked Carson.

       
            Randy didn’t respond. He kept looking out the window.

            “Did you at least get the gems,” asked Carson.

            “We had them. Jerry had them. Something. Got him. He’s gone. The gems, yeah. I got them,” said Randy.
            “What do you mean something got him?”

            Carson pulled to a red light and stopped hard. He turned around in the driver’s seat and looked back at Randy. Randy was holding his stomach and blood was seeping between his fingers.

            “Oh man! You’re bleeding man,” shouted Carson.

            “Huh,” said Randy and he looked down at his stomach.
            “Dude! You’re bleeding everywhere,” shouted Carson.
            “Oh, yeah. I got… scratched,” said Randy.

            The light changed to green casting a sickly aura on Randy’s face. His eyes were glassy and far away. Carson turned forward and hit the gas.

            “We’re going to a hospital man. Screw it man,” said Carson.

        
            Carson made a U-turn at the intersection and started speeding back toward town.

            “You hear me man, we’re going to a hospital,” said Carson.

            Carson looked again in the mirror and saw Randy’s head had fallen backwards and his mouth was gaping wide open toward the car’s ceiling.  Carson swerved and Randy slumped over in the seat. Carson pulled the car over and nearly smashed into the curb. He put the car in park and jumped from the driver’s seat and opened the rear driver’s side door.

            “Randy man. Randy!”

       
            Randy’s hand had fallen away from his stomach and Carson saw the eviscerating slashes across Randy’s belly. Randy’s small intestine, or what Carson thought was Randy’s small intestine, was hanging out. Carson felt the hot sick rumbling up from his own stomach and he wretched the chili fries and two bears he had for dinner up next to the rear tire. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and tried to catch his breath. He looked back at Randy. He could see he was clearly dead. Carson had seen dead bodies before.

            “Oh Randy. This was such a bad idea. I’m sorry man,” said Carson.  

            Carson reached across Randy’s body and started checking his pockets. He’d said they’d had the jewels. Maybe he was just in shock and didn’t remember where they were. There was so much blood coating Randy’s body. It made it difficult to rifle though his pockets in the dark. In Randy’s front right jacket pocket Carson found a small muslin bag.

            Carson stood and angled himself so the street lights could give him a little more light. He opened the bag and a handful of rubies and emeralds and gold encrusted jewels spilled out. Carson rolled them around in his hand. It wasn’t a huge score, but the quality and size were impressive. They would certainly get Carson out of his money troubles for a while.  He carefully put the jewels back into the bag and stuffed it in his pocket. He closed the rear car door and went back to the driver’s seat. He turned the car off and started wiping down every surface with his sleeves. He was glad he’d worn his driving gloves but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He’d burn the gloves later.

            He closed the driver’s side door and started walking away from the car. He passed an abandoned old warehouse building and tossed the car keys over the chain link fence. He started to work on his alibi. People knew he was acquaintances with Randy and Jerry and eventually the cops would come to talk to him. He had a record for burglary, but had been pretty clean the last five years. Even so, the cops would come to question him. His imagination started to whir and devise a cover story for what he did that night.  He hardly noticed the shuffling noise behind him. It only caught his attention when he heard something kick something metal.

            He stopped on the sidewalk and turned around. There was nothing of course. In real life it was probably a rat or the wind. It was always nothing. Carson started walking again but stopped quickly when he heard a low growl. He thought he might have wandered onto private property and a guard dog was stalking him. He looked around but didn’t see any signs or fences. He started walking again. a little more quickly. He couldn’t risk someone spotting him so near the abandoned car with Randy’s bloody body in it.

            “Return it to me, thief,” said a voice from behind Carson.

            Carson spun around and stumbled a bit. This wasn’t happening. This didn’t happen. An old lady fingered you in a line up, no disembodied voices called you out in the street. Carson turned and started to run.

            “It is not yours to take,” said the voice.

            Carson jumped to his left; he felt the voice directly in his right ear and dove to avoid it. He splashed through a large puddle in the street and ran toward the sounds of heavy city traffic. He ducked down an alley and then remembered that ducking down an alley while being chased by a ghost or whatever was really just a dumb rookie thing to do. He slowed his run and tried to catch his breath.

            “I’m just freaked out. That’s all. Randy’s body and no sign of Jerry. I’m just freaked out. That’s all,” said Carson.

            He rested his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. He was trying to slow down and not be scared. There was no reason to be scared. It was nothing. It was always nothing.

            An overhead street light in front of Carson started to buzz loudly and Carson looked up toward it. It seemed brighter than an alley street light should be. Carson thought it was one of those new high-efficiency bulbs that was just brighter. He looked down at his feet and felt his breath coming back. He was calming down. He felt silly for running from nothing. He was a professional after all and professionals don’t run. He felt foolish and he smirked.

            “God, what happened to me,” he said under his breath.

            Carson straightened up and stretched his back. He felt his front pocket for the little bag and started walking toward the street at the end of the alley. He heard a metal scraping sound behind him. He told himself not to turn around. The biggest mistake people make is when they turn around. He told himself just to keep walking like everything was normal.

            Three gold tips of a trident suddenly burst through Carson’s chest just under his rib cage and he felt himself lifted off his feet. He tried to scream but his diaphragm was punctured and he couldn’t make his muscles work. He turned his head back over his shoulder but couldn’t make out who had stabbed him. With a trident no less. He was flung over backwards and the trident pulled out of his body. He flew and crashed into a brick wall. He fell into a crumpled heap and he tasted pennies in his mouth.

            “Return what you stole, thief,” said a growling voice.

            Carson lifted his head and looked up into the face of a jackal. Carson recognized Anubis immediately. He’d seen The Mummy. He knew what it meant.

            “In my pocket. My arms don’t work,” said Carson as he coughed on his blood.

            Anubis towered over Carson. His form was slick like polished oil outlined in gold and blue. He snarled at Carson and bent down. Carson felt the jackal headed God’s smoky breath on his face. Anubis pulled the muslin bag from Carson’s pocket and clenched it in his giant hand.

            “What did you do to Jerry and Randy,” coughed Carson.

            “Their hearts are being weighed, as yours will be,” snarled Anubis, “and you will fail.”

            Carson felt a follow up question coming but he started to fade just as Anubis drifted into vapor.   

The Scariest

Eye lids clenched,
closed tight against the
rambling horrors
of night.

The not knowing,

the unknown,
the dark,
the silence.

Reaching out for

a helping hand that
isn’t there. No comfort
or quarter found.

Panic, confusion,

stumbling, screaming,
breathless, all
jumbled.

Pin-pricks of fear,

setting skin on fire,
as creaks and moans
get louder.

What’s down the hall?

What’s under the bed?
What’s in the closet?
Is it all in my head?

This Was No Boating Accident

             “I just want to dance,” shouted Nadia as she stumbled across the dance floor. She spilled the remaining drops of her mango-pineapple margarita as she swirled uncontrollably in a fevered drunkenness. Her flowing sun dress twirled haphazardly around her and gave a few of the other cruise vacationers a quick glance at her underwear. The dance floor patrons on the cruise ship Ocean Dream gave Nadia plenty of space to flail about but it was clear they weren’t happy with her unabashed inebriation. Nadia smiled at them all anyway, like they were all old friends already. The cruise had only been at sea for five hours and Nadia had spent the majority of it by the pool bar, downing fruity drinks that had clever and ironic oceanic straws.

            This cruise was Nadia’s reward to herself for surviving seven years under the heel of an oppressive boss at a terrible PR firm in the crappiest office in Kansas. She’d struggled to rise through the ranks and as soon as she’d achieved some level of management, some respect in the industry, she could take that respect to a new and better company and start making the sort of salary a woman of her tireless devotion to excellence deserved. Last week she was hired by the best PR firm, with the best management team in the nicest office in Kansas and she finally felt like she could cut loose.

            The original cruise plan was just to be a girls trip. She and three of her friends from her book and dieters club had made all the arrangements for a seven day cruise to explore all the debauchery they could handle. But then, Shelly couldn’t go because her son had a severe ear infection and had to go to the hospital, and then Mary decided she couldn’t really afford the trip and backed out, Brenda was the worst though because she flatly told Nadia that, “if the rest of the girls weren’t going then neither was she”. It turned out Brenda just didn’t like Nadia. That was fine with Nadia because she thought Brenda was a snob anyway. So, in the end, Nadia decided she’d go by herself.

            Nadia was initially nervous when she first boarded and wound her way through the long twisting corridors of the Ocean Dream Liner. She’d never travelled anywhere by herself before. It was a completely new and daunting experience for her. There was an allure to it though. She imagined on her plane ride to Florida that maybe she might finally meet that special man on this trip; the one man that could look past her weight issues and her driven career woman dreams. She had been working so hard for the last seven years that she’d let her weight get out of hand and she never dated because she thought it was time wasted. She’d rather date and look fabulous once she’d achieved her dreams of financial freedom. Although she was now 44 years old and the idea of finding that special someone and building a family seemed more remote than ever.

            The music stopped on the dance floor and the DJ made a few announcements about all the fun activities planned for the next six days. He had one of those velvety strip bar announcer voices and Nadia snorted loudly when she imagined him saying something like, “Please welcome Candy Cane to the stage, give it up for Candy Cane”. This drew some unwelcomed glances from some of the fuddy-duddies that were patiently listening. Nadia looked at her empty margarita glass and decided it was time for a re-fill at the bar.

            She tried to move elegantly through the crowd, but she wasn’t used to wearing the espadrilles and she stumbled a bit. She didn’t fall but it was pretty clear that she wasn’t too good on her feet. She met more scowls of disapproval as she moved forward. She made it to the Tiki Hut themed bar and sat down on the first available stool. She tried to get the bartender’s attention but he seemed busy flirting with a waitress that was showing a lot of cleavage. Nadia almost whistled to him but decided that if this bartender liked breasts then maybe she would just have to let her girls do the talking.

            She unsnapped the top button of her sundress and squeezed her breasts together with her arms. She admitted that the weight she had put on over the years had certainly added to the ample bosom she now exposed. The bartender must have ears for large cleavage because as soon as her girls were on display he turned right to Nadia.

            “What can I get you,” he asked, never actually look up at Nadia’s face.

            “I’d… I like… the fruity ones… with the fruit…that’s what I like,” said Nadia.
            “I’m sorry miss, what was that,” asked the bartender.
            “The drink, with the, you know, fruit in it, I been drinking it all day, you know, the one, do you like my breasts,” said Nadia.
            “I’m sorry ma’am I’m having a difficult time understanding you. Did you just ask if I liked your breasts,” asked the bartender.
            “It’s okay, I know you like them. You’re a man and men like boobs,” said Nadia.

             Nadia started giggling uncontrollably and she undid another button on the top part of her sun dress exposing her bra, a bra that was a size too small for her.

             “See… see… I can tell you like ‘em,” said Nadia as she winked at him.

            The bartender picked up a bar towel and tossed it on his shoulder and leaned in toward Nadia.

            “Miss, I think you’ve had too much to drink this evening and I don’t think I should give you another. It’s our policy on Ocean Dreams to make sure our guests have a wonderful time but responsibly,” said the bartender.

            “Are you saying you, you don’t like my breasts,” said Nadia.

            Nadia looked down and she felt herself start to cry. The bartender cleared his throat and leaned in toward Nadia again. Nadia didn’t look up at him.

            “Miss, please, I don’t want to spoil your fun but it appears to me that you’ve been over-served and I can’t in good conscience provide you with any further alcohol. I can get you a coffee if you like,” said the bartender.

            Nadia didn’t want to hear it. She closed her eyes.

            “Miss, I’m sorry. Why don’t you head back to your room and get some rest. Tomorrow is a whole ‘nother day for fun,” said the bartender.

            “You’re right. You’re right. I don’t even know what, what I’m doing on this stupid cruise. I’m old, I’m fat, I don’t have any friends, I wasted my life. I should just jump overboard,” cried Nadia.
       
            The bartender didn’t respond. He turned to another customer and took his drink order. Nadia buttoned up her open dress and stood up from the barstool. She tried to straighten her hair and wipe the tears from her cheeks. She stepped carefully in her espadrilles toward the exit, only stumbling once, and made it out side onto the deck.

             The ocean air was instantly refreshing on her teary face. She left the noise of the club room behind her and drifted aimlessly toward the ship railing. She looked out over the dark water and remembered her college boyfriend Ricky and she caught herself wishing he was there with her. He would have held her hand as they stood there, looking together out over the water. She looked up and saw the bright moon peeking through thin lines of clouds. She sniffled.

             “Are you alright miss,” said a man in an Ocean Dream Liner polo shirt.

            He had startled Nadia and she turned quickly to face him.

            “I’m sorry ma’am I didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you in the club and I wanted to make sure you were alright,” said the man in the polo.

            “I wish everyone would stop calling me ma’am. That’s what I wish,” said Nadia.
            “Yes, miss, I can understand that. I don’t like it when people call me ma’am either,” said the man and he smiled.
        
            Nadia caught the joke and she snorted. She got embarrassed and covered her mouth and nose with her hand.

            “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snort,” said Nadia.

            “It’s alright. Can I walk you back to your room this evening,” asked the man.
            “What’s, what’s your name,” asked Nadia. She straightened her back against the railing and tried to look at least a little sexy.
            “My name is Merrill. It’s our policy here on Ocean Dream Liners to make sure that guests that may have had a bit too much fun be safely escorted back to their rooms”.
            “Oh. Yeah, I guess you would have to do that I suppose,” sighed Nadia.
            “And you’re name?”

            Nadia stopped trying to be sexy and let her shoulders slump. Merrill was handsome but he was far too young for her. He probably had some sweet 22 year old girl back home; all hot and sexy and always in a bikini. Nadia sighed and turned sideways from Merrill.

      
            “My name is Nadia.”
            “That’s a nice name. I haven’t met a Nadia in a long time. It’s nice to meet you,” said Merrill as he extended his hand.
            “Yeah. Charmed,” said Nadia and she accepted his hand limply.
            “So, Nadia, may I walk you to your room?”
            “I guess,” she said.
       
            Merrill stepped up next to her and gently ushered her forward toward the room section of the ship. Nadia stepped alongside of him and started to move forward.

            “I mean, you don’t have to go back to your room if you really don’t want to,” said Merrill, “we’re certainly not forcing you.”

            “No, no. It’s fine,” sighed Nadia.
            “I mean, you could always jump overboard,” said Merrill.

            Nadia sort of chuckled at him. He said it in such a Bill Murray-esqe way that it seemed funny.

            “Or I could throw you over,” said Merrill.

            Nadia stopped walking and turned to look at Merrill. He was smiling but there was something wrong with his smile. It was too wide for his face. His cheeks looked like they were wrinkled up, like it was a smile wearing a suit made of skin.

            “What,” said Nadia.

            “I said I think I’ll throw you overboard. Besides, no one will miss you. You’re fat, you’re old and you don’t have any friends. Yeah, I think I will throw you overboard,” said Merrill.

            Nadia started backing away, back down the deck toward the club.

            “You’re crazy,” she said.

            “No. No. I’m not crazy. I’m here for you Nadia. I’ve come to take you from all this pain and suffering,” said the thing in the Merrill suit.
            “What? Take me away? No, no. I’m fine,” said Nadia.

            She continued to walk backwards carefully, holding onto the railing, over the dark ocean.

            “You’re hardly fine Nadia. You wasted your life in the pursuit of money, of things, of unfulfilled dreams. We hate that,” said the growing monster.

            “I lead a good life. I do. I do. What do you know?”
            “Everything about you Nadia. Everything,” said the beast.

            Nadia turned to scream but the beast, now snarling and towering over her, grabbed her and flung her over the side of the ship like a baby tosses a rattle. Nadia screamed out over the water and she splashed down far from the lights of the cruise liner. The shock of the water hitting her was like being punched in the kidneys and for a moment she didn’t know what had happened. She started to shout for help but the ship just kept pulling away from view. There was nothing but blackness all around her. She felt something nibbling on her arm.

            “Miss, Miss… Miss,” said a voice, shaking Nadia, “You can’t sleep here miss. You have to go back to your room. The bar is closed.”

            Nadia sat up from the bar, the bartender from before was shaking her. Her sun dress was still unbuttoned.

            “What happened,” she asked.

            “You fell asleep at the bar after I told you I couldn’t serve you anything more. Now please, I let you stay to sleep it off but now you really must get back to your room,” said the bartender.

            Nadia carefully stood from the stool and steadied herself. The dream was already fuzzy in her mind. She started to turn from the bar when the bartender called after her.

            “And miss, by the way, I do like your breasts,” he winked at her and smiled.

             Nadia blushed and waved him goodnight.

Sandwich

            Albert took a bite of the sandwich Julie had made for him. It was pretty normal as sandwiches go; old fashioned white bread, mayo, bologna, Swiss cheese, shredded lettuce, a dreaded thin slice of tomato. Albert didn’t like tomatoes and had told Julie to please stop putting them on his sandwiches but she never listened. He told her they made the sandwiches too wet to eat by the time lunchtime arrived. His sandwich would get soggy in the work refrigerator and it really bothered him. He thought it was nice that she thought of him enough to make him a lunch everyday but it was odd that she never listened to him about the damn tomatoes.

            He pulled the thin tomato slice off the sandwich and dropped it into his napkin. He resumed taking large bites and looked up across the wide office lunchroom. The other employees were microwaving various prepackaged meals, full of preservatives and inorganic compounds that somehow comprised food. He shook his head and wondered how anyone could put such filth into their bodies. He swallowed his bite and took a sip from his water bottle to wash it down. At least Julie was as health conscience as he was. She liked organic foods and all the best type of fresh produce. Even the bologna he was eating was supposed to be the healthiest that could be purchased.

            He took another bite of the sandwich and felt something crack against his tooth. There was something hard in his sandwich. He groaned slightly and spit the mouthful out into his napkin. A pain started throbbing in his mouth near his back molars. It felt like something was digging into his gums. He moaned again and some of the other employees in the lunchroom looked in his direction.

            “Albert? Are you alright,” asked the afternoon shift receptionist.

            “Yeah, yeah, just… bit something wrong in my sandwich,” replied Albert.

            He turned his head and put his finger in his mouth to feel around on his molar. His finger felt around his right back molar but he couldn’t feel anything sticking out, yet the pain in his jaw started to get worse. He looked down at his sandwich and started picking it apart. He took the lettuce off, the cheese, the bologna, and searched through the bread but couldn’t find anything in there that he might have bit. He started to wonder if maybe he had just bit down wrong and cracked a tooth through the act of chewing.

            “Albert, oh my god, your mouth is bleeding,” said the afternoon shift receptionist.

            He looked at her and then wiped at his lips with the back of his hand. He looked at his hand and there was thick red blood drenching it. He looked down at the front of his shirt and saw the dark crimson drops trickling, as if he’d had a surprise nose bleed.

            “Oh my god,” said Albert.

            He stood up from the table and rushed toward the employee bathroom with his hand cupped over his mouth. He could taste the metal/copper flavor of blood. He saw drops of blood hitting the floor as he rushed to the bathroom. He got to the sinks and looked up at the mirror. His whole chin was covered in blood. It was pouring from the corners of his lips like some bleeding religious icon. He had gotten very pale and he started to feel dizzy. Albert turned the water on in the sink and bent down to wash his mouth out. Over the drone of the water gushing from the tap he heard a faint tinkling sound. He looked down into the basin and saw two of his teeth were swirling around the open drain.

            “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” cried Albert.

            He put his mouth under the running water and tried to swish and rinse the blood out, but more just kept coming. He felt his legs getting weaker and panic was settling into his brain. He put his finger in his mouth again and looked in the mirror, trying to see where he was bleeding, why he was bleeding, where his teeth had come loose. There was too much blood in his mouth still. Albert started to choke and he spit violently in to the sink, splashing bloody water up over the mirror. His eyes were stinging with tears and fear. He turned toward the paper towel dispenser and started jamming paper towels into his mouth hoping that would stave off the bleeding. The paper towels started to make him gag and he pulled them out. As he did so, two more teeth came flew out into the sink. Albert screamed.

            Davis Maple from accounting came into the bathroom and Albert turned to face him. Albert’s eyes were wide with fear as he moaned a guttural plea for help. Davis turned pale and Albert saw that Davis was about to faint. Even in his panic Albert still couldn’t believe that the only guy to come and check on him in the whole office is the one that can’t stand even the slightest bit of blood. Davis fainted to the floor and Albert tried another muffled scream, spraying blood across the bathroom. He turned back toward the mirror and could see that blood was now streaming from his nose.

            Albert started to believe he’d caught some terrible disease, maybe he was the first one, maybe it was from someone on the train, maybe someone in the office was trying to kill him, or maybe it was Julie. Albert stopped his panicked thoughts and focused on Julie. Julie,… that treacherous bitch. She’d done this. She did put something in his sandwich. She had to of. There was no other explanation.

            Albert had tried to apologize to Julie about kissing Julie’s younger sister. He hadn’t meant it. It was just so late and Julie hadn’t touched him in so long and Heather was just being so flirty and attractive. Heather had intentionally flashed him from across the room and told him she wasn’t wearing any underwear in a hot breathy whisper. How could he resist such a come on. He’d only kissed her after all. It wasn’t even that long of a kiss, although he did fondle her breasts a little. Albert thought it was odd how clearly he remembered the soft smooth shape of Julie’s younger sister’s breast in this moment, while he appeared to be bleeding to death.

            Albert sat back against the wall near the sinks and slid to the floor. He looked at useless Davis and cringed. Blood continued to pour from his mouth and now he felt something wet coming from his ears. He reached up shakily and felt his ear and sure enough, blood was flowing from them. Albert felt the world getting smaller; his vision was collapsing into a pin hole. His cell phone started vibrating. He reached into his pants pocket and got out the phone. The blood on his hands and fingers made it difficult to unlock his phone and get to his text message.

            “I HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR LUNCH,” read the text from Julie.

            The phone slipped from Albert’s bloody hand as the bathroom world turned a strange color of red and then faded into blackness. As he drifted into the abyss of nothingness he made a vow. He vowed if there was indeed an afterlife, he would haunt Julie till the end of her days. He’d torment her so much that she’d never know peace ever again. The words stopped and Albert slumped to the side.

            Davis woke up to the sound of running water and shook his head. He looked up at Albert’s dead, bloody, body along the wall and felt that old familiar wave of nausea gurgle in his belly. The microwaved Mexican meal was starting to come up on him and it was burning. He got to his feet and rushed to a stall and started throwing up. He screamed and threw up, screamed and threw up until he was just screaming. The rest of the office males streamed into the bathroom at the sounds of Davis’s screams and made the gory discovery of Albert’s hideous blood soaked, bloating body. The police were called. An ambulance was called.

            A day later, Julie was arrested at the home she had shared with Albert for nine years. In the basement they found jars of tomatoes soaking in a caustic acid substance. Julie never revealed the exact chemical make-up of the solution. She simply smiled and said they were just preserves, just preserves.

October Tale

Autumn creeps in like
a mist, carpeting the
remnants of summer
in shadow and chill.

Through the long nights,

the moon takes on
an eerie shine through
skeleton trees.

Echoes of impending horror

rattle off shuttered buildings
and shudder through emptying
streets.

The ground seems

damp and crawling with
the slithering of worms
and the crunch of death.

Creaking floorboards are

ever more ominous through
drafty old houses and strange
knocking noises are amplified.

Cats are demons, with yellow

reflecting eyes catching the glint
of late evening headlights. The
Devil’s pets snarl and vanish in the dark.

Leaves twirl in twists of icy breezes,

and surround you in a cold grip of
fear. Your turned up collar no
protection from Fall’s tendrils.

And it’s only just beginning.