Horror d'Oeuvres - Bite-Sized Tales of Terror Read online

  Of all the horrors and monstrosities she had been expecting to encounter in these woods, a unicorn certainly wasn't one of them. Although it was far better than what she was expecting, something made her pause. While the unicorn was far more beautiful than anything she could hope to imagine, something about it unnerved her.

  Mercy found herself slowly walking to the majestic creature. She knew she should have been worried, but something about the animal radiated kindness and warmth, and for a moment, Mercy didn't even notice her sore feet or the biting cold. When she finally touched the unicorn, all doubt about it vanished, and for a few moments, she felt pure unadulterated bliss.

  The unicorn fixed its eyes on hers, and it seemed to sneer…

  No one would ever find what was left of Mercy Lewis, but that didn't stop people from spreading rumors about what had happened to her. Escaped lunatics, government experiments, aliens, demons, and all matters of man and monster were attributed to Mercy’s disappearance, yet no one ever mentioned the Old Saxon legends of the unicorn which lived deep within those woods.

  An Answer to Her Prayers

  Jonas Lefkowitch

  For some reason, that quaint country church had called out to Lily as she was driving by, and she found herself reluctantly pulling over, then standing outside its entrance, debating for the longest time whether to cross the threshold. Lily had not gone to church since she was eleven years old, when she vowed never to set foot inside one again. She was twenty-seven now, and at a loss about why she was sitting among the pews, staring at the simple wooden cross adorning the wall behind the pulpit, hung between two stained glass windows, the Nativity depicted on the left and the Pietà on the right.

  Lost in confusion and contemplation, Lily didn't notice the old priest approach, nor heard him speak, but when he laid a hand gently upon her shoulder, she shrieked, recoiling at his touch. "I didn't mean to frighten you, miss!" the old priest said. "I'm so sorry."

  Lily had burst instantly into tears, and she trembled like a lamb cowering before a lion. "I should go," she sobbed.

  "Wait," the old priest pleaded. "If you prefer to leave, that's all right, but don't let me chase you away. This place is yours if you want to stay."

  Lily nodded, and the old priest hurried away, exiting the church and pulling the doors shut behind him, ensuring her privacy. Clasping her hands, Lily gazed up at the cross and began to pray, another thing she had not done since she was a child. "When I was a little girl," she whispered, "my parents taught me that every kindness was a tribute to you. I always tried my best to honor you in everything I did. I loved you. I thought you loved us…

  "One night… Father heard a noise. Some men had broken into our home and… they killed him… They came for Mother and me… They… She screamed for them to stop, but they… again and again… I shut my eyes, but the man holding me swore he'd carve them out if I didn't watch… Sometimes I wish I'd let him blind me…

  "I prayed to you the whole time!" Lily cried. "You weren't there! I begged for help, but you ignored us! I've never forgiven you… and I never will."

  "MY CHILD..."

  Those words broke the silence within the church like a thunderclap as electricity charged the air. With each stormy syllable the building shook, and the tableaux depicted on the church's stained glass windows pulsed with an unearthly brilliance. Lily was trembling anew, afraid she was hallucinating the booming basso profundo and the astonishing power on display, but truly terrified by her certainty that it was utterly real.

  "I SAW THE HORRORS YOU SUFFERED. I WAS THERE.

  "I NEVER IGNORE THE PRAYERS OF THE DESPERATE AND THE INNOCENT, NOR TURN MY GAZE FROM THEIR AGONY AND NEED.

  "I SAVOR IT ALL.

  "HUMANITY'S SORROWS AMUSE ME AS NOTHING ELSE CAN. THAT IS YOUR PURPOSE. THAT WHICH YOUR KIND CONSIDERS TRAGEDY IS, TO ME, THE MOST SUBLIME OF COMEDY, AND I LAUGH AT YOU ALL.

  "BUT YOUR PRAYERS HAVE MOVED ME, SO I SHALL FULFILL YOUR WISH..."

  Lily would have spit curses at this contemptuous, contemptible being, but found herself stunned speechless, staring mesmerized at the stained glass windows throbbing madly with unnatural radiance, flashing faster, blazing brighter with each passing moment. The Nativity and the Pietà, shimmering with waves of heat, focused into a pair of dazzling, multicolored beams streaking across the church into Lily's eyes, which oozed steaming from their sockets like scalding tears down her cheeks. Clawing at her face, Lily screamed in ear-splitting agony, but she heard only deafening peals of laughter, echoing endlessly in the church, in her head, everywhere without and within. For the rest of her days, laughter filled the darkness her world became, mocking her always, inescapable even in dreams, making a nightmare of her life.

  Let's Play Pretend!

  Dieben

  "Okay class, it’s pretend time."

  The kids take out their kits for the ten minute session.

  “All right, time's up, let’s take a look…”

  “Hmmm… that's great, Kara. I see you’ve imagined a red cube.” I take it in my hands. “Oh, and I see you’ve made the surface rough. That’s a nice touch. Next time I’d suggest you try making the faces of the cube different colors for a greater challenge.”

  “Samuel, what do you have for us? Anything? Okay, a book? Oooh… That’s quite good, anything on the pages? No? Well, maybe you can try for that next time, but excellent in any event.”

  I approach Laney Harmon. She’s my brightest student by far. Incredibly gifted, but full of herself. A handful for sure.

  "So what do you have for me, Laney?"

  "Well, I imagined this, Mr. Haas," she answers. She presents a silver pail, the size of a mop bucket. Shiny and sleek. Simple; definitely below her talent level.

  "Well now, honestly, Laney. There’s no intricacy here. Come on, I know you can do much, much better than that. I can understand lack of talent, but your lack of effort is inexcusable, and frankly, I see it from you all the time."

  I see Laney’s face turn dark. “I can do better,” she says. She closes her eyes for a few long seconds of deep focus, opens them up and casts me a wicked smile. She tips over the pail and, like an undersea birth, scores of small writhing creatures spill out onto the floor and every corner of the classroom.

  “Laney, pick those up! Wait… What the…? What…?"

  Snakes? Living things? No one can do that. No teenager, no adult, not even the best conjurers in the world can imagine living beings into existence.

  Pandemonium ensues. Girls and boys screaming.

  "Laney, I know you didn’t pretend a whole damn bucket of snakes into existence, now you better get rid of all of these cursed things immediately; and then get your butt to the principal’s office!"

  "But I did imagine them!"

  "How do you expect me to believe that? Not in a million years, nobody can do that! Laney, you are such a troublemaker and I have… I just can’t stand seeing your smug little face sitting at that desk anymore. Now GO!!"

  God, what a day!

  The next morning I’m pulled from a reverie by one of my students.

  "Mr. Haas, are you okay? You’ve been acting a little funny this morning."

  I blink a few times, a little puzzled. “Well… of course I am, kids. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “So, let's um… let’s continue on page 56. Ms. Harmon, would you please read the next passage?”

  Laney is such a gifted student. I really like having her in my class.

  She reads on with her sweet little face and angelic voice. But midway through the poem her recitation is interrupted by an ear-piercing scream from the hallway.

  I run out to investigate and see a group crowded around the janitor’s closet. A body lying motionless on the floor. Head bashed in. Coming closer I see… my head! Pools of sticky redness. The faces all turn toward me. A kaleidoscope of dumbfounded expressions.

  I notice Laney standing next to me.

  "Mr. Haas, I don’t really know how to make… well, penises, you know
."

  Somehow I catch her drift. I turn around to take a little peek… yep, smooth as a Ken doll.

  Ms. Harmon is such a special girl. I love having her in my class.

  Let's Go Someplace Else

  Nicholas Ong

  "James, huh?"

  The boy nodded, tears leaking from his eyes. Pain washed over his entire body, painting the entire sky before him red. As quickly as it appeared, however, the cruel visage faded, until the only thing left before him was the face of the angel.

  He was beautiful and regal, like the prince who always saved the princess. James wanted to be like him too, but all he had was his powerful imagination.

  The angel smiled. "Do you want to go somewhere else? This is no place for you, James."

  "How… How do I know you're actually an angel?"

  Woosh.

  A breath of air left James as he stared up at the angel's snowy white wings. They were soft, or so they looked. He raised a thin arm upward, trying to touch them, but the angel held his hand instead.

  "I want to go with you," cried James.

  The angel smiled at him. "Close your eyes."

  But James could not. His body fought against his will, striving to stay aware and attentive. The angel's face morphed, the tears dripping from its eyes landing as blood on his cheeks.

  This is no place for you, James.

  He heard the average lifespan of a person was seventy years. He wondered how the other fifty-seven years of his life would have played out.

  Camouflage prints obscured the sky as a helmeted soldier with a gash on his cheek pointed a rifle straight at his face. James let his own rifle slide out of his gloved hands in grateful relief.

  For the Good of Our Species

  Michael Lee Brown

  Craig White stares at the shackles around his wrists and ankles. Two guards stand on either side of him holding a rifle; he recognized them as QBZ-95’s as soon as they had removed his blindfold. He has no idea how much time has passed since they brought him here; he suspects only a few minutes. It felt like days.

  “I am Xu,” the stranger declares as she enters his darkened cell, the clang of the metal gate shutting behind her echoing off the walls. “We need to talk”.

  These are the first words of English he’s heard since he and his girlfriend, Erica, were jumped outside of Shanghai Pudong airport. This was supposed to be their first holiday together and it was already a disaster.

  “Why did you come to China, Mr. White?”

  “Whoa, hold on a fucking minute!” he protests. “I think–”

  Before he can finish, sharp pain explodes on the right side of his face as one of the guards strikes him with the butt of her rifle. He sees stars and has to fight to maintain consciousness. Once the room comes back into focus, he finds an answer.

  “I’m on holiday with my girlfriend.” He answers her in a voice which sounds more fragile than he would like. “You’d better not have hurt–“

  “You’re in no position to be making threats, Mr. White,” Xu chuckles, “but she’s fine. We have no real interest in her.”

  “Who are you? And what do you want with me?”

  She points to an emblem on the breast of her uniform.

  “You don’t recognize this?” she asks.

  He shakes his head but in his heart, he knows. He’s known since he identified the favored rifle of the Chinese military.

  “We,” Xu proclaims, “are the Army of the People’s Republic of China.”

  “Holding an American hostage is the worst idea–”

  A sharp burst of pain across the left side of his face makes him fall silent. The unmistakable acrid taste of copper lingers in his mouth.

  “You do realize that you’ll start a war?”

  Xu throws her head back and releases the crazed laugh of a supervillain. The cackling of it bouncing off of the walls makes him shudder and he shrinks back into the seat.

  “The war is already over, and you’re on the losing side.” She begins pacing from one side of the cell to the other. “You see, science in China has advanced to a point we no longer need the likes of you to ensure the future of the human race; we can guarantee all that are brought into this world are of the superior sex. So, why should we waste our resources on men?”

  “I… I don’t understand.”

  “China’s population is entirely female – has been for years.” She comes in close, displaying her faith in the chains binding her prisoner. “Sacrificing half a billion people was exhausting, but my government believes in my work. So much so, that I can acquire any male who enters our territory; legally or otherwise. This is for the good of our species. I’m saving lives, Mr. White.”

  “You’re fucking crazy.”

  The butt of a rifle strikes him again and his head falls forward. Blood drains out from his gaping maw while a tooth drops and breaks as it hits the concrete floor.

  “How is this saving people?”

  “Why, organ donations, of course. Your choice to follow the billions of other men and sacrifice your own life for the sake of others can only be described as heroic.”

  “My… choice…?”

  “Yes.” Xu replies sternly. “You chose to enter into my country and, as a man, that means you willingly surrendered your life.”

  A message, riddled with interference, comes through on Xu’s radio; she tilts her head while she listens. Her response is the last thing he hears before unconsciousness claims him.

  “Okay, they’re ready. Get him to surgery.”

  The Voyeur Evolves

  Marc Kinsville

  Working as a security manager at a major hotel chain is the perfect job because it allows me to practice a little known but misunderstood hobby:

  Voyeurism.

  Yes, I get off on watching people in their most intimate and private moments. I have installed hidden cameras in each of the 100 rooms we have at the hotel.

  Call me a creep if you want but I assure you, I’m really quite harmless.

  I’m just like everybody else. I work hard and I am responsible to a fault…

  My only reprieve in life - my only weakness - is my Peeping Tom recordings.

  I arrived home late after a nightshift eager to check through some recent recordings when I got an email with the subject line “PROPOSAL.”

  The message read: “$100,000 for all your videotape footage.”

  This was quite unnerving since I keep my hobby a closely guarded secret.

  “Who is this?” I typed back.

  A reply came mere minutes later: “Doesn’t matter who we are. You have 24 hours to agree to our offer, otherwise we will kill someone captured on your cameras every day and our offer shall decrease by $1,000 per day until you agree.”

  Someone must have found out about the hidden cameras, but who? They referred to themselves as “we”. An organization perhaps?

  I couldn’t sleep that night. To calm my nerves, I broke out a bottle of whiskey and thought it over. Half the bottle was gone and the only thing which could have made any sense in this situation was that I’d caught something on camera they desperately wanted.

  Or maybe this was all a trick? Someone trying to get revenge on me? Maybe someone was trying to get me to turn over all the footage and incriminate myself?

  Hoping to call their bluff, I typed my reply: “Sorry, I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  A day later, I got a reply email.

  “Offer now $99,000,” and there was a video attachment.

  It was a GoPro-style video recording of someone approaching the backyard of a suburban house at night. I watched as the unseen person entered effortlessly through sliding patio doors. Room to room they trekked until they came upon a master bedroom where a couple lay sleeping.

  A wicked-looking hunter’s knife came into view.

  I flinched. I knew something horrible was about to happen. I should have stopped viewing this, but I couldn’t turn away. I watched as the recorder of
this dreaded video crept up to the sleeping man, placed a gloved hand on his mouth, and plunged the knife effortlessly into the man’s throat. The man’s eyes popped opened. I’ll never forget the expression on the man’s face as he expired.

  The recording stopped as the camera’s view turned to the woman still asleep. I rewound the recording to study the man’s face, trying to figure out who he was. Our hotel receives hundreds of guests per month. He could be anyone. A travelling businessman, a man on vacation with his family, a person visiting distant relatives…

  If I could give my condolences to this man’s family, I would.

  But right now I have another problem.

  Watching the video was horrific, but it was strangely exhilarating.

  I think I may have found a new hobby.

  In the Dark

  Grace Bowland

  You always hear it coming.

  You know those noises you hear, when you've just turned off the lights, and you're lying there in the dark waiting for sleep to come? Things like a shifting floorboard, or the wind outside your window, or the creak of the pipes in the walls? Most of the time, we ignore them, write them off as the natural sounds of a house settling. But some nights, though we tell ourselves it’s childish, a little tendril of fear curls around our hearts and we start to wonder:

  Am I truly alone?

  There's something I need to tell you about the noises. Something important. Just listen, okay? Listen, and don't turn on the light.

  My parents died in their sleep - both of them, at once, twin heart attacks leaving the coroner baffled. The worst luck in the world, she told us, and the strangest timing. They looked so peaceful when I found them, lying together. It was as if they were just sleeping and at any moment, they'd open their eyes and ask me when I'd bring a nice girl over for Sunday dinner. We opted for an open-casket funeral.