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  Within a few minutes, she had bled out completely on the saturated ground, her eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth agape in a hushed scream.

  Removing the mobile phone from his pocket, the man held it up in the rain and held down the button, taking a picture of his victim. The bright light from the flash briefly added to the illumination of the lightning from within the trees.

  Laughing, the man placed the phone back into his pocket and the hunting knife back into the sheath on his belt. Knelt on one knee in the mud next to his victim, he lifted one of her lifeless arms over his shoulder and, using brute strength and leverage, he threw Cathy’s dead body over his shoulder into a fireman’s lift.

  Her head and arms hung limp down his back swaying from side to side with every step that he took, a mixture of blood, rain and mud dripped from the ends of her hair and fingertips to the ground below, the contents of her abdominal cavity slowly began to escape down the man’s shoulder and chest. Slowly, he made his way towards the main entrance of the dark cabin.

  Girlfriend

  Andrew Lennon

  Simon awoke feeling refreshed. This was the first Saturday for as long as he could remember that he hadn’t been ripped from his sleep by the sound of an alarm. He picked up his phone, as was always the first the thing he did each morning. The time read 11:48. No wonder he felt refreshed, his alarm had always been set to 8:00. In the middle of the phones screen was a message.

  Four missed calls.

  He didn’t need to check who it was. It was the reason he had turned his phone on to silent before going to bed. He placed the phone back on the side, and went to the bathroom to empty his bladder.

  After retrieving his phone from the bedroom, he walked to the kitchen wearing nothing but his underwear, filled the dirty old white kettle with water and then flicked the switch. While waiting for it to boil, he stood staring out of the window. The day outside captured his mood perfectly. The sun was shining, the sky clear blue. Even the grass looked greener.

  The sound of a vibration pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to see the light on his phone flashing on and off. The display said, Susan. Simon let out a sigh and then answered the phone.

  “Hello, Susan.”

  “Simon, I was hoping we could talk.”

  “There's nothing to talk about.”

  “But there is, I wish we hadn’t split up.”

  “But you split up with me!”

  “I know, and I wish I hadn’t.”

  “Well, you should have thought about that beforehand, shouldn’t you?”

  “I want to give us another try.”

  Simon put the phone down by his side and took a deep breath. Then he lifted it back to his ear.

  “We've already been through this.”

  “I know, but…”

  He hung up.

  Still wearing nothing but his underwear, Simon sat in front of the television on a floral patterned couch. He didn’t even like that couch. The only reason it was there is because Susan had chosen it. Why he had let her choose his furniture was beyond him. At the time, he agreed with her that it made sense as they would probably end up sharing furniture one day anyway.

  How wrong they had been.

  Looking at his watch, he noticed it was almost 12:45. He changed the channel to Sky Sports 1 in anticipation of the Everton v Chelsea game. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually been able to sit at home and watch the football. In fact, he'd only called to renew his Sky Sports subscription last night to ensure that he was able to watch this game.

  Simon had always been a big Everton fan. Using his season ticket, he would go to every home game. He also forked out the money every other week to go and see the away games. That was years ago. After he had gotten with Susan, the first thing to go had been his season ticket. She had said that it was too expensive, for what it was anyway, and seeing as they would spend weekends together he wouldn’t even have time to go to the games.

  At the time, they'd been spending most weekends having sex as much as they could. He loved football, but even Simon was willing to sacrifice it if it meant he could watch Susan’s ass bouncing up and down on his cock. Or grab her red hair in his hands as she went down on him. Simon started to harden at the montage of sexual memories. He moved his hand down and gripped himself.

  Not done this on the couch for a while

  He smirked. Slowly, he started to stroke himself when the phone started ringing. He looked at the display and immediately lost all interest in pleasuring himself. He tucked himself away and then answered the phone.

  “What?”

  “Don’t be like that,” Susan said with almost a whisper. Simon could tell she had been crying.

  “Susan, the footy is about to start. What do you want?”

  “Oh, so you got Sky Sports now, then?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”

  “Perhaps I could come over and watch something with you?”

  “Don’t be bloody stupid, Susan. You don’t even like the footy!”

  “Well, I would do something else while you watch it.” Her tone had changed now. It sounded sultry, provocative.

  “Well...” Simon paused and smiled. “I wouldn’t fucking want you here.” And then he hung up.

  The football match had been and gone. Simon had been drinking while he watched it. This was something he used to do all the time. He would start drinking no matter what time the game started, and then he wouldn’t stop until he could drink no more. Nowadays, he was a bit more sensible. He had drank a couple of cans and that was his limit. Still, he was feeling a bit tipsy. His tolerance for alcohol wasn't what it used to be, his age a deciding factor in the limited consumption throughout the years.

  During the game, Simon's phone rang several times. He'd deliberately ignored it, already annoyed with Susan. He didn’t want her ruining the football match as well. As it turns out, Everton had lost anyway and given a terrible performance, so it probably would have been more fun arguing with her. The phone lit up again.

  Ah, speak of the devil.

  “Well, hello again.”

  “Simon, I want to…”

  “I was hoping you would call,” Simon said, trying not to sound smug.

  “Really?” Susan couldn’t hide her excitement.

  “Yeah, I was just thinking. I haven't spoken to that bitch, Susan, in a while.”

  “Simon, why are you talking like that?” He could hear that she was crying again.

  “I was hoping you would call just so I could hang up on you again. Bitch.”

  He hung up the phone. It rang again, almost immediately, but Simon just threw it on the glass coffee table. He couldn’t help notice how filthy that table was. He had never bothered with cleaning around the flat. He supposed that he should start doing a little bit now that Susan wasn’t there to do it for him.

  The phone rang again, he ignored it once more.

  On the table he noticed a magazine. It must have been Susan's as he never bought magazines. At the top of the front page was a picture of a large red stamp, the kind that was used years ago to seal envelopes, one of those proper old school wax stamps. The bottom of it was dripping like blood and in the centre of the stamp was a name, Dark Chapter Press. The rest of the front cover was filled with horror pictures; a creepy dolls head with blood dripping from an empty eye socket, a picture of a surgeon holding a bloody knife. Simon opened the magazine and flicked through until he reached the centre page. There was a story filling one of the pages – Intruder.

  Andy sat on the king sized bed alone. He had gone up to his room early to watch a movie. Wearing pyjamas that were covered with pictures of Animal from The Muppets, he sat, his legs crossed next to the remotes on the purple and cream duvet cover.

  He picked up his two litre bottle of Pepsi and took a big gulp. After letting out a loud belch, he grabbed the remote and flicked through the channels. Once he'd scrolled through the entire TV guide and realised that, a
s usual, there was nothing on, he settled on the Horror Channel.

  The front door squeaks while being opened downstairs. It squeaks again when being closed. The latch turned as to make sure that the door does not slam. The house has thin walls and ceilings. Andy hears every noise that the door makes. Thinking that it is nothing more than his son coming back from a friend's house, he ignores it.

  The movie on tonight is The Dead Zone. Being a big Stephen King fan, Andy gets excited for this viewing, but first he has to put up with old Doctor Who episodes. Having never been a Doctor Who fan, he only half watches it, looking up every now and then while playing on his iPad. The episode tonight has weird clowns that keep attacking the doctor. There is something sinister about clowns that just rubs Andy up the wrong way.

  Downstairs there is more noise. Each door being opened and then closed again. As if someone is entering each room looking for someone.

  “Craig!” Andy shouted. “I’m upstairs, everyone else is out.”

  No answer comes. Perhaps Craig didn’t hear him, although that’s very unlikely because of the thin walls.

  After a few minutes, he hears footsteps coming up the stairs. His bedroom door opens and a large man enters wearing a balaclava. In his hand is a large machete.

  “What the fuck?” Andy screams.

  He falls sideways off the bed.

  The intruder tries to make his way around the bed, but there is a wardrobe up against the wall at the end of the bed. There is a gap to get round, but it’s very small and the intruder is too large to fit. Before he can process the thought and go over the bed instead, Andy jumps up and grabs the baseball bat that he has propped on top of the head board.

  “You fucker,” Andy shouted. “You’re not gonna cut me!”

  He jumped at the intruder and swung the bat, connecting with the side of the head. He can’t see the extent of the damage from the blow because of the balaclava, but the intruder collapsed to the floor, dropping the machete. Andy knew he'd done enough to give him the upper hand.

  Andy quickly reached down and grabbed the machete before the intruder regained consciousness.

  “Break into my house will you? You fucker!”

  Andy raised the machete into the air. He pushed his foot on the shoulder of the unconscious body so that it rolled over and lay on his back. Then Andy drove the machete down into the chest. He could see the eyes open wide with shock, the mouth opened as if to let out a scream, but all that followed was a gurgling sound.

  In a rage fueled frenzy, Andy repeatedly stabbed the machete into the intruder's mid-section over and over again. He could smell shit from where he had pierced the bowel. Still, he stabbed again. After what seemed like hours, but was in fact only a few minutes, he stopped. Panting for breath, Andy walked around the body and leaned down to look at the head. He stared straight into the dead man's eyes.

  “Right you fucker. Let’s see who you are.”

  He pulled the balaclava from the head. Andy’s jaw dropped as he was staring face to face with his brother.

  He stepped slowly and zombie like, in a daze down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he turned to enter the living room. As he opened the door, the lights were turned on and a crowd of people jumped up from all around the room.

  “SURPRISE!” They all yelled.

  “Ha, look at your face!” Craig said. “I knew that Mike would scare the shit out of you with that burglar trick. I can’t wait to see it.”

  “What?” Andy asked. Still in shock.

  “I hid the camera in your room so we could see the prank. I’ll bet it was golden.” Craig laughed. “Mike bring the camera down!”

  “He’s not there.” Andy said, almost in a trance like state.

  “Where is he?”

  “Well, that was fucked up.” Simon threw the magazine back on the table. A cold shiver ran down his spine, forcing him to turn and look behind him.

  “Stupid fucking story.”

  He walked to the kitchen to get himself a drink, stopping to check behind him, feeling that he was being watched. He looked down at his phone and started browsing through his news feed on Facebook. In his peripheral vision, he thought that he saw something move. He turned to look, but nothing was there. The only thing there was a cupboard. It wouldn’t be possible for anything to move.

  His phone rang, making him jump and then drop the handset. Luckily he managed to crouch down and catch it before it landed on the hard tiled floor. He quickly swiped to answer and put the phone to his ear.

  “Fuckin’ hell, Susan. You scared the –”

  “– Simon, it's Maria.”

  Simon pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the display. The display confirmed that it was Maria. He wasn’t sure why he'd questioned it even for a second. It was only a matter of time until she called. Maria was Susan’s sister. Now that Susan had gotten nowhere with her calls, she had asked Maria to call for her instead. This just made Simon even angrier. So now they were going to try and gang up on him? He put the phone back to his ear.

  “Listen, Maria.”

  “Simon, I…” She was crying.

  “Oh, don’t you start as well! Listen, Maria, I’m not being funny but…”

  “She’s dead, Simon!”

  Simon felt the blood drain from his face. He felt numb. “What did you say?”

  “Susan is dead, Simon. She was upset and wanted to make up with you. You wouldn’t answer her calls. So she decided to drive over and talk to you face to face. I…I don’t know exactly what happened. I haven’t even been given any proper news yet. I’ve just had some woman who said she was a police officer call me from Susan's phone. Apparently, there's been an accident involving her car and a lorry. They’re going to call me back later to…”

  By this point, Simon had stopped listening. He placed the phone on the side next to the kettle and walked slowly, in a daze, to his bedroom. He dropped on the bed and shoved his face in the pillow.

  He cried.

  Simon awoke disorientated. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He slid out of bed and shuffled through his flat towards the kitchen, seeking coffee.

  Flicking the switch on the kettle, he noticed his phone lying on the side next to it. He remembered the phone call. Had that really happened or was it just a dream? He knew that he had been slightly drunk after watching the football, plus that story creeped him out. Between that and all this crap with Susan lately, it could have been playing on his mind. That’s how nightmares come about, isn’t it?

  “Please, God, let it be a dream.”

  He picked up the phone and swiped to unlock the screen. The display said, Eight missed calls.

  “Ha ha, yes!” Simon's shout echoed from the kitchen walls.

  It was a dream. Recently, the sight of those missed calls and messages had gotten him to the point of insanity, but now he couldn’t be more relieved.

  In the back of his mind there was still a lingering shadow of doubt. He felt like he had to double check. He didn’t want to be with Susan anymore, but he couldn’t bear the thought that something had happened to her. He wanted to be sure, but he didn’t want to call Susan either. That would give her a false hope. Instead he scrolled through his contacts to Maria and called her.

  As the phone started to ring he began to think that this was a bad idea. What exactly would he say? He hadn’t thought this through. Before he had chance to think any further the call was answered.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, Maria. I was just calling to see if everything was OK?”

  “What?” Now he could hear that she was crying. “I’m sorry, Simon. I still haven’t heard anything if that’s what you mean.”

  Simon felt like his stomach was twisting inside out. His knees began to shake along with his arms. It wasn’t a dream.

  “Maria, I’m sorry.” He cried. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault, Simon. I tried to tell her to just leave it. But she loved you so much. She just wouldn’t let it
go.”

  Simon’s cry had now turned into a full sob. His words were completely illegible. He managed to force out. “If you need me to do anything…”

  “I’ll let you know. Listen, Simon. I have to go. Good bye.”

  The phone went dead. Simon stood staring at the blank screen. He felt completely helpless. He had no idea what to do. Perhaps, if he had just given her a little bit more of a chance then she would still be alive. The phone in his hand vibrated and then started to ring again. He looked at the display.

  Susan.

  Trembling, Simon put the phone to his ear.

  “H, h, hello?”

  “Simon.” It was Susan's voice, but it sounded strange. Like it was under water.

  “Susan!” Simon shouted.

  “Simon, I want us to be together again.” It was so faint.

  “Susan I can hardly hear you. Are you OK? Maria said you…you were.”

  “Don’t worry, Simon. I’m on my way now.”

  “How are you calling?” Simon was sobbing again now. “You are…Maria said you are dead”

  “I’ll be there soon.” This time her voice was very clear and then the phone disconnected.

  It didn’t take long before Simon's grief and despair turned to anger. He paced back and forth through the living room, walking around the couch and the glass coffee table.

  “Fucking bitches. What a horrible fucking joke.”

  He picked up his phone and called Susan. It went straight to voicemail.

  “Fucking typical.”

  He dialled Maria. This time it rang.

  “Hello,” she answered.

  “Do you think that was fucking funny?”

  “What?”

  “You know what!”

  “Simon, I…”