The Cat, the Crow, and the Cauldron: A Halloween Anthology Read online

  “That’s it?” Jeffrey asked, picking up the fortune cookie.

  “That’s it,” Harkness replied, his heart racing. “Open it, and you’ll get everything you wanted, and more.”

  “So everyone will be fixed?”

  The phone rang just then, almost making Harkness jump. Why couldn’t people leave him alone? “Hold that thought. I want to see you open it, see how happy you are.”

  He stood from the table, crossed the room, and stared at the Caller ID. It was Betty Newsom again. He turned off the ringer, deciding to ignore the old bat. After he opened his fortune, he’d never have to deal with her or any of the other board members ever again.

  Harkness walked back to the dining table and sat down opposite the boy. “Well, what are you waiting for? Open the damned thing.”

  Jeffrey ripped off the plastic, cracked opened the cookie, and read the fortune. “Wow, Mr. Harkness. Thank you.”

  Harkness stared, dumbfounded. “For what?”

  “For the money, for living forever, and for the beautiful woman, though I’m probably a little too young for that one. Though there’s nothing here about my brother’s arm or any of the other kids. What’s up with that, Mr. Harkness?”

  Harkness grabbed the fortune cookie sitting beside his .357 and stared at it. That was his fortune! Had the boy switched them? Without even thinking, he ripped the cookie out of the plastic wrapper and cracked it open, reading the fortune inside.

  You are dead.

  Jeffrey Newton carefully replaced the real fortunes in the cookies with ones he had written, one each for his brother, Jordan, Chase, and Jake, and then sealed them back in the plastic with the hot glue gun he’d found on the table. Maybe it would work and maybe it wouldn’t, but if it didn’t, he’d do what he could for all of them once he cashed that $100,000,000 check he’d found in his pocket.

  He methodically packed up the rest of the cookies from the table, along with the scissors, ballpoint pen, ream of paper, and of course the glue gun, and put them all in a plastic Wal-Mart bag he’d found in Mr. Harkness’ kitchen. If anyone else had been hurt by the old man’s fortunes, he’d do his best to set things right, either through the fortune cookies or old-fashioned cash.

  Jeffrey took one last look at poor, old Mr. Harkness, lying dead on the floor with one gnarled hand still clutching his chest. He almost felt sorry for the man, but then remembered that fortune had been meant for him. Shrugging, he walked out the front door, closing it behind him. Tomorrow, after he opened up a bank account, he thought he’d buy himself a new bicycle. After all, if he was going to live forever, he might as well start enjoying it.

  About the Author

  Joe was born in Carthage, Illinois, and currently lives in Rogers, Arkansas with his artist wife Andee, their son Fletcher, and their cats Milo, Lucky, and Archer. Joe is a freelance writer and web designer. In addition to writing, he enjoys purchasing (and occasionally watching) copious amounts of Blu-Ray discs, listening to music, playing video games, and collecting Mego action figures from the 1970s. His short story collection, Odds and Endings, will be released in November 2015.

  Want to know more? You can follow Joe on Facebook, Twitter, Google+, or through his website at JoeDeRouen.com. To be the first to know when Joe releases a new book, you can sign up for his mailing list HERE. You can check out Joe’s novels on Amazon HERE.

  Nothing Scares Me

  Celia Kennedy

  Dedication

  To my belle-mere, Ardith Deblois-Carson. If she knew I’d made her the heroine of this story, she would have hated it, and then loved it.

  I will love you always, Ardith.

  Early Afternoon, Halloween

  I came to a quick stop when something sharp dug into the heel of my hand as I crawled along the forest floor. The bright crescent moon I had glimpsed hours ago, was unable to penetrate the dense tree canopy and thick understory. I now sat back on my heels, alone, in total darkness. The metallic tang of blood oozing from the puncture wound slid across my tongue. I spit out the mixture of blood and saliva, in case whatever had sliced me was poisonous. The ground was littered with decaying forest debris, I remember reading some of the indigenous plants were toxic. I worried briefly about the many dangerous animals as well, but with heavy breathing drawing closer, and the rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs seemingly right behind me, I returned my focus to now.

  My heart pounded in my chest as I resumed crawling slowly, quietly zig-zagging forward, towards what, I had no idea. The low growing branches of the Cypress trees were covered in feathery, damp strands of moss which brushed against my head and shoulders, from time-to-time. Already surging with fear, when this happened, adrenaline shot through my body. Each time, the struggle to regain some level of control became harder and harder.

  I crept on, running into tree trunks and scuffing my hands and knees as I scuttled along. Each time I encountered the impenetrable edge of the thicket, I changed my course, and slowly moved forward. Towards what, I didn’t know.

  Blind, I used my sense of hearing to help me. Whoever was chasing me was loud enough to silence the bugs and birds. The hooting of an owl caused me to stop and listen. I strained my ears. In the distance, I heard the whisper of running water and prayed it was the right direction to head. If nothing else, I might be able to stand up and see where I am. My body ached, and though I longed to rest, the whump of large wings taking to flight, nearby, spurred me on.

  Minutes passed as I quietly made my way to what now sounded like rushing water. Silence was shattered, when suddenly the snapping of a branch ricocheted off objects around me. Whoever had been behind me, had closed the distance, and was now far too close. I crumpled onto the ground, and gave into fear. Pressed against the fecund earth, I felt my heart pound in my chest, felt sweat trickle down my back. Every breath of the hot, humid air of the swamp reminded me I was far from home. I was here by mistake. In the world I usually inhabited, the brisk autumn air would have nipped at my nose. But not here, where dangling moss, slithering creatures and utter darkness thrived in the clammy environment.

  Something ran into me and scurried over my legs. I bit down on my bottom lip to suppress my reaction. Fear was urging me to scream. I couldn’t give myself away. It was a struggle, more mental than physical, but eventually I pulled myself together. I refused to give into the monster that followed me. When all was still for a while, I rose to my hands and knees, and continued my slow, painful journey towards the water.

  Slow. The journey was slow. Every sound, every smell, every new thing I crawled through, I bravely remind myself I was making my way home, to safety. I didn’t let any images of my husband and daughter come clearly into focus, knowing if I did, I would breakdown. I had to focus on the here and now. My survival.

  Surprised, I could see a massive bright light in the distance, and hear sparks popping and logs crackling. My heart rate escalated, if possible. The only light that could be found in this blanket of darkness was that made by a large fire. Could the forest be on fire? I swiveled, searching for more information. The light, sound, and smoke were contained. A camp fire? Was there safety to be found there? Or did it belong to the feet I heard stalking me, searching for me? By now, one thing was certain, the path I was following had been cleared purposefully, so I ended up in this location, with only one direction to go… towards the fire.

  My resolve was fleeing me. Every part of me wanted to give in, to lie down on the damp ground; for surely what faced me in the clearing was far more dangerous than where I was. Besides, after having made it this far, I wasn’t sure I could make it further. On top of fear, it had been quite some time since I’d had food and water. A glass of ice cold water was all I wanted. Images of items I would trade for the life giving liquid flitted through my mind. True to every horror story I’d read, or news report I’d heard, in the end, all I and anyone ever wanted was water, shelter, and safety. Those things our ancestors had pursued relentlessly, day and night, in order to survive.

>   Now, I was confronted with fire. The elusive element that brought man out of the darkness and into a world that saturated every sense, twenty four hours a day. Unsure what lay ahead of me, I knew I had to move forward, to the fire, to find my way out.

  The water was beyond the clearing. It and the fire were what I focused on.

  I cautiously moved forward, trying to get a glimpse of the glade ahead, to spy on those gathered around the orange and red flames that licked the moist night air. Friend or foe? I prayed for a friend.

  Finally, there at the edges of the clearing, hidden amongst the Wax Myrtle tangled with Sawgrass, Buttonbush, and Pennywort, I crouched in the shadows, looking for people, for any type of clue.

  ***

  Footsteps crashed towards me, from behind. I darted into the empty clearing. I couldn’t see anyone. I barely had time to make sense of the space around me. A massive fire, surrounded by large rocks, occupied the clearing. Next to it, I saw animal pelts were neatly stacked. Tree branches and firewood were stacked within easy reach of the fire, a razor sharp axe was stuck in the stump of a log, used for splitting wood. My eyes flashed back and forth between a stout branch and the axe. Both could be fatal weapons – to those pursuing me, or to myself. Knowing the moment had arrived for me to take action, I grabbed the axe.

  I’d never swung one, never killed anything, but in this instance, where I could see beyond the fire to the warren I had crawled out of, there were no choices. I had been intentionally forced down that shoot, there was only one other way in, or out. Heavy boots trampled the crumpling, sandy soil, towards me, from my other egress.

  Nothing in the world could have prepared me for what happened next.

  A massive man, tall, muscular, and glistening with sweat, burst into the clearing wearing ratty clothes and a ski mask, wielding a chainsaw. Seeing me, he revved the engine. “Fuck!” I shouted. I stood rooted to the ground, since he had come to a stop. I had no idea which way to go. We held each other’s eyes, waiting for who would flinch first. Instinct told me to run, but to where? My heart pounded so loud I couldn’t hear the rushing water any longer. I wanted to throw the axe at him, hit my target, and flee. I knew this would be stupid, because the chances of striking a wounding or lethal blow were small. Would injuring him be enough, anyway? The longer I stared at him, the more massive he appeared.

  His menacing eyes held mine steadily for what felt like an eternity. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, just before he sprinted towards me, chainsaw spinning, gripped in his strong hands, his enormous biceps bulged as he held it in front of himself. His gloved hands ensured the damp air and sweat that poured off him, wouldn’t cause him to lose his grip.

  I had no choice. I ran to the opposite side of the fire. He followed. I struggled to suck in deep lungful’s of fetid air. The sound of my heart pounding and heavy breathing vibrated in my ears. Sweat dripped off my forehead and into my eyes. I used the back of my left hand to wipe the salt water away while I clenched the sharp axe, my only defense, with my right. I registered a metallic smell. I flipped my hand over, the one that I had injured earlier. In the bright light, I could see droplets of blood oozing from of a small wound.

  The sound of him screaming as he charged at me struck a terror through me I could not have conjured on my own. My fight or flight instinct kicked in, and adrenaline shot through me at maximum capacity. I would not go down without a fight. If no one else, I owed myself that. I stood my ground until he was close enough I could smell the rank sweat roll off him and see the black eyes that pierced me through the ski mask. He gave one final rev of the chain saw before he swung it at me.

  ***

  I used my left arm as a shield, while I struck out with the axe. Not finding purchase, it flew through the air, slipping out of my wet hand. Instinct took over, and while I knew that I couldn’t out-muscle this maniac, I had to hope I could out run him. Seeing his back to the pile of logs, I risked running at him, hoping he would be caught off guard, and take a step backwards into the pile.

  While he didn’t go down as I hoped, he grappled with the chainsaw as he lost balance long enough for me to kick at him as hard as I could. My feet, encased in stout hiking boots, bounced off the hard bone of his shins. I did it again and again, struggling to find the softer flesh of his belly and crotch. My attack appeared to amuse him. He roared as my foot found the juncture of his thighs. He dropped the chainsaw and fell to his knees, screaming. I had the opportunity I needed to sprint across the clearing and into the river.

  Smooth, gliding blackness enveloped me, as I sunk below the surface of the water.

  I pulled myself downstream, underwater, as far as my breath would let me. Then, resurfacing, I slowly moved to the water’s edge. I contemplated what to do next. Stay in the water, or go back to land. On land, there was a trail to follow. In the water, I could possibly allude my stalker, but there was the distinct possibility of encountering alligators. I was back to one option.

  The edge of the swamp was densely packed with a wealth of Water Hemlock, Carolina Willow, reeds, and rushes. Fear of being rolled underwater in the jaw of an alligator was proving to be a powerful motivator. I wrenched myself out of the black water, scrabbling up and over the stout branches of the trees and shrubs. My thrashing about once again silenced the bugs and birds. I sat still, amongst the tangled branches, ignoring those digging into my bruised flesh, trying to get a sense of whether I was being followed or not. Hearing nothing, I sat still, wondering if he lie in wait, or if he was still back in the clearing, in pain. The corners of my mouth tugged upwards. I found joy in the knowledge I had inflicted pain upon him. Arbitrarily deciding that enough time had passed, I risked making noise, and made my way further inland, hoping to find the trail that travelled alongside the water.

  ***

  Spanish moss. It slithered over me once again as I pushed forward, as quietly as possible. The creatures that lived here were silent. My imagination left me wondering where they lay in wait, hoping for an innocent animal to step into their path, into their maw. I will not be dinner, I bravely decided, silently. I gave myself a serious talking to, I needed to focus on survival and shut my mind to my imagination. Images of predators were limited to the man in the clearing. If the bastard was going to get me, I was going to make him work hard to find me. I would not go easily, I repeated over and over, inside my head. I had far too much to live for to become a tragic headline on the news.

  That thought brought images of my daughter into my head. Shit! This could break me. I stumbled to a stop and began shaking. My daughter. Where was she? What was she doing? She was supposed to have come on this hike with me and bailed at the last minute. I had been annoyed, but now felt grateful she had picked time with her friends over hiking with me.

  The sound of heavy boots making their way over fallen logs informed me my pursuer was moving again. I brushed aside the tears that wet my cheeks, and dropped to my knees, resuming my slow, silent crawl. As best I could, I cautiously felt around the undergrowth, looking for a place to hide. My hand brushed along the bark of trees, slimy rocks, thorny shrubs, and feathery ferns which covered the swampland floor. I did this while I heard the heavy booted feet draw closer and closer.

  At last, I found a small area, where trees had fallen down, crisscrossing to form a deep V shaped nook. I crawled in as far as I could go, and then pressed myself flat beneath the tree that rested close to the ground. Soil, leaves, bugs, and other debris were pressed tightly to every inch of my body. As I laid still, I could hear nothing but my heavy breathing. In the daylight, I will find a way out. I just have to wait for sunrise.

  Then the truly unexpected occurred. The crackle of a radio pinged off the trees surrounding me. My name was dispatched to my pursuer by a staticky voice. A deep, masculine voice, as smooth as velvet, called out cajolingly, “Mrs. DeBlois, where are you?”

  I remained silent and still. Just because they knew my name didn’t mean I had to answer. I waited noiselessly as he called out for me
a few more times, growing more irritated. Then I heard the deep voice, which told me he was within reaching distance, speak into a walkie-talkie, “We have a serious problem. I can’t find her.”

  He searched the area for a few minutes, calling my name, but I remained hidden. My tears trickled the short distance from my eyes to the fertile earth. I was afraid, and I had a child. The combination made me vulnerable and lethal. As he rushed away, heading back in the direction he came from, I allowed myself to relax my muscles, one-by-one, just a little. I needed rest. I needed to be prepared for his return.

  I ran through my very limited options. I could continue on and try to find safety. I could stay where I was until sunrise and increase my chances of finding my way, or I could… What? What could I do? There had to be a third option. My thoughts were wild and chaotic. I felt light-headed. Between physical exertion and a lack of water, I was spent. Breathe and stay calm, that’s the third thing I can do.

  ***

  It was still dark when I open my eyes. I had laid still, with my forehead pressing against the damp, cool earth, and waited. And waited. Until I fell asleep, exhaustion defeating fear. Now, all of my senses were alert, wondering what had awakened me? As I remained still, I searched for clues. I did not have long to wait. The quiet was broken by the creaking of a tree trunk, flexing under the weight of my nemesis, just overhead. It gave way just enough to bang into the back of my skull and make me see stars. His foot landed with a thud just inches from my face. The loose material of the forest floor kicked up and sprayed my face, shoulder and leg. I had to bite down hard on my lips to stop myself from crying in pain and spitting out the grit that covered my mouth.