Motherhood And Other Tales of Terror Page 4

  “Deal, Gladys.”

  “Hold your horses. I have to shuffle.”

  The pair returned to their game as if the entire conversation had never taken place.

  ***

  Merydith climbed upstairs. The stairway curled around the two-story house, the first floor stopped at a small landing with an octagonal window and then twisted to the right where the next flight of stairs brought you to the second floor. This was where all the bedrooms were.

  Merydith reached the second floor, the sun meeting her face through more solar panels. She basked in it for a moment and then went to her brothers’ door. Tobey and Aaron shared a room, and surprisingly, got along quite well in it.

  She tapped softly on the closed door. “Come in,” Tobey’s voice reverberated. She nudged the door open to find both Aaron and Tobey lying on the floor, playing marbles. They had a small circle taped to the floor, and Aaron had his tongue protruding and one eye closed as he prepared to shoot a small, multi-colored marble.

  “Hi, Mery. What are you doing?” Tobey asked.

  “Nothing much. Mother just asked me to check up on you guys.”

  “Oh,” he replied, barely paying attention to his sister. His eyes were locked on the game.

  Aaron shot the marble and missed the circle entirely. “Damn,” he yelped.

  “Aaron Santaneen, if Mother heard you, she’d whip you good,” Merydith scolded.

  “I didn’t mean it, Merydith,” he whimpered. His lower lip quivered.

  She smiled. “It’s okay. I won’t tell.”

  “Do you want to play with us?” Aaron asked.

  “No, thanks, you two keep playing.”

  She glanced around their room with a satisfied smile. The toy box in the corner was filled to the top. The bunk beds were made neatly, Aarons’ stuffed Panda on the bottom bunk marking his territory.

  Their baseballs, footballs, bats, and tennis balls were scattered around the room in organized piles. Dark blue curtains were pulled wide around the two windows to let the sun in, some of Tobey’s t-shirts hanging off them. Tobey’s small radio sat dormant on the nightstand by a lamp shaped like a dinosaur.

  It was a typical, messy, cramped boy’s room, but the two knew exactly where everything was. Merydith sighed blissfully and then left the room, shutting the door behind her.

  She went down the hall to her room, and as she ran her hand along the wall, she gently touched the small imitation wreath hanging on it. The texture was hard and rough, yet she always ran her hand over it when she came down the hall.

  She looked up and took note of the small door in the ceiling that led to the attic, a set of folding stairs hidden behind it. The attic had a slant roof built off it, allowing the solar panels to hit the second floor. Merydith wondered who had built it all this way, her grandfather, or someone he’d hired. She had no doubt that he could do it. But why the irresistible urge to have every spot in the house heated by the solar panels? It was something she never asked. Maybe someday she would.

  Inside her room a large bed with pink sheets and pillows waited like a giant sugarcoated marshmallow. It was so inviting. On her bed was a collection of stuffed animals—teddy bears, raccoons, rabbits and more. Her room was indeed a world all its own.

  She had her own writing desk and a dresser with a mirror, where she curled and brushed her long chestnut hair.

  Her shelves were lined with dolls of all types, beautiful antique ones with spacious gowns and dazzling faces. All of them had shiny glass eyes and bright pearly smiles.

  In the corner was a small, stool-like table with three shelves. On each sat a different plant. The first was a fern, the second was an African violet, and the third was a cactus. She took care of the plants with delicate care and used the solar panels to help grow them. She knew the panels had more than one use. Her grandfather wasn’t the only one who loved plants.

  Her closet held many fine dresses and accessories from scarves to large-rimmed hats. Summer and winter dresses fought for space in the spacious closet. It glowed with an array of bright, pretty colors. Grandma and Mother had knit most of the clothing specifically for her.

  The last feature of Merydith’s bedroom was the round tea table at the left wall. It wasn’t used for tea. Instead, it held an enormous puzzle of more than a thousand pieces. She had only just begun it, and little by little each day she would add some more pieces to the puzzle. She wanted to make it last. It kept her days on a routine basis, something she could do every day and it would always be there.

  The puzzle was of a circus--a place she had never been to in her life. The box showed a bunch of colorful clowns, costumed horses, the ringmaster and a huge blue tent. A lion tamer and the trapeze performers delighted a crowd of spectators. It would be a large, beautiful puzzle when finally completed.

  She picked up three pieces and carefully put them into place, then went to her bureau. She picked up the swirled brush and slowly ran it through her hair in a flowing motion. From her window she could see the protective wall of the garden, and over it she was just barely able to see the luscious tress that stretched gracefully to the skies. Birds skimmed from one to the other. With a yawn, she went to her bed with the brush still in hand and decided to rest before dinner.

  3. What Lies Beyond

  Hours passed in the quiet house. Merydith had fallen asleep, Gladys and Marion continued to play Gin, the boys continued to play marbles, and Simon was busy in his workshop weaving together more brilliant creations and ideas, for what purpose no one knew.

  The air grew cool and it was time that dinner was at last started. After a final game of Gin, which Gladys had finally won, she entered the kitchen to prepare another home-cooked meal.

  Gladys looked out the window at the yard and the road that stretched from it to the wooded area as she prepped freshly picked vegetables from the garden. She was proud of her place in the house and what they had accomplished. The location she and Simon had chosen to build their house on was equally as beautiful and bountiful as the Santaneen grounds.

  A ways up the rocky dirt road was an ominous forest. It crept up both sides of the road as if it waited to pounce on unsuspecting travelers. Gladys thought of how it took Simon about forty-five minutes to drive to the center of Willington where the children’s school was located, along with the town market, the town offices, and police station.

  It was always pleasurable to travel the road into town no matter what season it was. The view was breathtaking. In the summer, everything was lush and vibrant. In the fall, all was colorful and dazzling. In the winter, everything was sparkling with ice. In the spring, everything was reborn.

  Trips to town were always special because they were limited to the adults, mostly, and were a treat for the children. The only part they got to see was when Simon took them to school every day in his old green pickup. He took them straight to the school doorstep, then picked them up when it let out, and not a minute after. They were not allowed to go anywhere else without an adult, and they never dared step foot off school grounds. If Simon ever found out…well, Gladys didn’t like to think about that.

  ***

  Shades of red and hazy orange painted the sky like a blanket laid gently across the county. Through the forest, two young men made their way. They were young drifters that had been traveling all day and were growing tired.

  “When we reach town we’ll check in at some bed and breakfast overnight and get a fresh start in the morning,” the taller of the two said.

  “Yeah, Mark, it’ll be nice to get off my feet. We’ve been traveling all day. The concert’s still in three days so there’s plenty of time till we catch it,” responded the shorter man.

  This was a sort of pilgrimage for them. The two were very earthy, crunchy types. All natural guys who ate bean sprouts and tofu for fun, consumed kelp for health reasons, saved the whales, supported animal rights, and helped the environment. There was nothing like a cross-country hike, especially if it was to see a
Save the Earth Concert.

  Their packs were heavy and each carried a large, rolled-up sleeping bag with plans of spending all night at the concert once they reached the location. “By the way, Tom, what town are we in anyway?”

  Tom stopped and gave his friend Mark a confused smile. “I haven’t the slightest idea. Why don’t you pull out the map and try to find it? I know we’re in South Carolina, but that’s all I know.”

  They stopped and knelt in a clearing of grassy patches in the forest. The foliage was beginning to run so deep that the sunlight had to fight its way through the thick, obstructive arms of the trees just to sprinkle a few rays of light around.

  Mark unfolded the map in front of them. “Let’s sit down and figure out where we are.”

  They dropped their packs off their backs, the break a welcomed relief. Mark glanced over the map. “I’m not sure, but I think we’re just inside the borders of Willington. I just hope this forest isn’t throwing us off course. It seems to get deeper and darker the further we go. If we’re going in circles I’ll kill myself.”

  “If we don’t reach some civilization by nightfall we may have to spend the night right here,” Tom said.

  “That wouldn’t bother me. I love to camp out in the wilderness, under the stars. Nothing compares to it. C’mon, let’s keep moving.” Mark stuffed the map back in his pack and they returned to their travels.

  A snap echoed in the distance. Footsteps echoed among the trees and caught the men’s attention. A flock of birds fled to the air and the men froze in their tracks. Suspicions slithered into their thoughts. They knew they were not alone.

  “Did you hear that?” Tom asked nervously.

  Mark automatically put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “C’mon, Tom, don’t let your imagination run away with you. It was probably just an animal.”

  “And if it wasn’t?” replied Tom.

  “What makes you think we’re the only ones that can walk through a forest?” With that, Mark gave a weak chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood. He took hold of Tom and pushed him ahead, starting off again.

  Behind the men, a figure stepped out of the brush. It was tall and hulking. A strange air of havoc whirled around it.

  For a moment Tom and Mark didn’t notice the stranger and continued to move, their pace increasing little by little. The intruder moved as well, advancing with them and keeping their pace, never losing sight of them. It hid its face beneath twisted bands of bandages, tight, wince inducing, and streaked with dirt.

  On its head it wore a cowboy hat. Its clothes were oversized, hiding its exact body type. A brick-red flannel shirt, with black vest, was tucked clumsily into blaring white painter’s pants and snow boots. This ensemble was as protective as it was concealing.

  The men moved faster, and the stranger did the same, keeping pace. His footsteps were fast and heavy, and the men knew the entire time that they were being followed, terror surging through them, but they refused to stop or look back.

  “Mark, it’s gaining on us!” Tom’s face was flushed as his breathing grew quick.

  “What does it want?” Mark asked his buddy before yelling behind him. “Leave us alone!” He started to turn his head to see who was behind them. “Just leave us—!”

  “No!” cried Tom. “Forget that, who cares what he looks like. Let’s get the hell out of here!”

  They broke from walking fast to full-fledged running. They could hear the footsteps behind them growing faster and more determined. The two buddies continued to run, dodging logs, fighting the outstretched tree branches and brush, splashing through muddied rivers, running blindly, not knowing where to run, not knowing where they would end up.

  Then Mark noticed that the footsteps had ceased. They were no longer being pursued. “Stop. Tom, stop. He stopped chasing us.”

  They paused, sweat streaming down their faces, breath short and fear germinating.

  “W-where did he go?” Tom rambled.

  They searched about. The forest was again quiet and it seemed that they were now alone. “W-where could he have gone?” asked Tom. “H-he was right behind us. I heard him!”

  “Who cares? It just shows how tough he really was. He was outnumbered and he knew it. Coward!”

  “Stop it, you idiot. Let’s just go before he comes back.”

  “He won’t come back. He’s a stinking coward!”

  They turned to continue on when a swift jab out of nowhere stopped Mark cold. A spade plunged deep into his stomach, blood sprayed thick and heavy as he gasped for air. His face twisted with agony and his mouth hung agape before he went down.

  “Mark!” Tom screamed, watching Mark writhe on the ground, his voice nothing but a gurgle.

  Tom looked up from his best friend and met the emotionless eyes of the hulking murderer who was brandishing the bloodstained spade. His eyes widened. He stumbled as he turned, and without thought or destination, just hurled himself into the wilderness.

  The spade launched into the air and whistled toward its target with all the force of a freight train. It struck Tom square in the back of the neck. He screeched once before collapsing to the ground.

  The slayer took hold of Tom and dragged him to the first kill. Blood trailed from one body to the other, and the animals were already investigating the spillage. Furious, the killer chased the animals away. He laid the bodies out side by side and inspected them.

  Hiding the spade away, the killer just stared as the forest came alive with scavengers.

  Author’s Biography

  John Grover is a dark fiction author residing in Massachusetts. John grew up watching creature double feature with his brother on Saturday afternoons. This fueled his love of monsters, ghosts and the supernatural. He never missed an episode. In his spare time he loves to cook, garden, go to the theater to watch horror movies with his friends, read, talk about food, bake amazing desserts, play with his dog Buffy (yes named after the character in the TV show) and draw-badly.

  Some of his favorite TV shows and influences are The Twilight Zone, Tales from the Darkside, Space 1999, Battlestar Galactica, X-Files, Night Gallery, Monsters, Star Trek, and much more.

  He completed a creative writing course at Boston’s Fisher College and is a member of the New England Horror Writers, a chapter of the Horror Writers Association.

  Some of his more recent credits include Best New Zombie Tales Vol 1 by Books of the Dead Press, The Book of Cannibals by Living Dead Press, The Vermin Anthology, The Northern Haunts Anthology by Shroud Publishing, The Zombology Series by Library of the Living Dead Press, Morpheus Tales, Wrong World, The Willows, Alien Skin Magazine, Aurora Wolf and more.

  He is the author of several collections, including the recently released Feminine Wiles, sixteen tales of wicked women as well as various chapbooks, anthologies, and more. Please visit his website or facebook page (https://www.facebook.com/johngroverdarkfictionauthor) for more information.

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  Bibliography

  Let’s Play in the Garden- Young adult horror. Merydith knows that she's different from all the other girls. She feels it deep down inside of her each time she and her brothers walk through her grandfather's big old house and grand, secret garden. The garden is an amazing place of magic and beauty--until the day tragedy strikes.

  If God Doesn’t Show-apocalyptic, Cthulhu mythos novel co-written with R. Thomas Riley. Published by Permuted Press.

  Frozen Stiff: A Zombie Novella-The end has come. The dead walk and the living are on the brink of extinction. Brad and Travis, part of a military search and rescue operation, are re-routed to a secret base in the Canadian Arctic where evil colder than the frozen waste awaits.

  Creatures and Crypts-20 short stories, over 70,000 words of fiction. Come dance with the dead in the pale moonlight. The author’s best-selling collection.

  Fe
minine Wiles-These girls will set your nightmares on fire. They’re beautiful, seductive, fearless, and deadly. Will you resist when you hear their call? 16 tales of wicked women.

  Terror in Small Doses-6 flash tales of horror and the supernatural. Makes a great sampler of the author’s work. Lowest priced book.

  Shadow Tales-The author’s first collection now in its second edition. 15 tales of terror with an all new wrap around story and author’s notes on the stories. Published by Double Dragon Publishing.

  A Beckoning of Shadows-The sequel to Shadow Tales. More horror with 16 stories of varying themes. Published by Naked Snake Press.

  Angels, Ashes and Alchemy-A novella collection of shorts featuring Heaven and Hell. Published by Double Dragon Publishing.

  Space Stations and Graveyards-Co-written with Eric S. Brown and Jason Brannon, a mega-sized collection of sci-fi horror, the supernatural and of course zombies! Published by Double Dragon Publishing.