Tales From Dark Places - The Halloween Collection Read online

  The End

  © 2013 Chris Raven

  The Goblin Changeling

  By Sheryl Seal

  “You should know… It’s that time of year… When the witches and ghosts appear… They come at night when there’s no more light… Halloween is almost here… If you look… Very carefully… There’s a goblin behind each tree… But I must say… don’t you run away…‘Cause. It. Might. Be. Me!”

  Singing this children's song as we all strolled down the sidewalk, my buddies and I were excited to be going trick or treating this year. We were all hooting and hollering and having a great night. It was probably the last time we would all be together like this. We were between the ages of ten and twelve and this was our night.

  There was one house that we all couldn’t wait to get to and it was on the next street over. Of course the rules state that we have to knock on every house that is brightly lit up and participating with this age old tradition. Begging for candy isn’t exactly classy, but at the end of the night the rewards will be life changing.

  “Hey there Billy! Dude, you look like a dork with your great big green goblin ears and that mouth full of slimy teeth. I can smell your breath from here.”

  “Yeah Tyler, well look how big your feet are. A foot the size of a Volkswagen and just as wide isn’t exactly all the rage.”

  Cole and River and I were hanging behind and mocking every move the two of them made. “Katelyn, watch this.” River whispered. Cole and River then proceeded to mock Billy and Tyler’s steps. They had me laughing so hard I thought I might pee myself. Tyler is all long-limbed and his feet are the still the biggest part of him. Transforming his features to look just like Tyler, River even matched his huge feet. Cole couldn’t resist and joined in the fun and suddenly there was a loud noise and the nastiest odor in the air.

  “Hey River, that’s Billy’s breath! Get it?” The laughter continued as Tyler and Billy turned around and chased Cole and River down the street. I yelled for them to come back so we could go up to the next house. With my hands on my not so delicate hips and stomping my big foot, I shouted for the guys to come back.

  “We can’t skip any of the houses and I’m not going into this new life without my buds.” Heckling each other, they caught back up with me and we continued down the street of houses. Decorated all spooky, the last house on the street had what we call an overkill of decorations. A mass of spider webs with a giant make believe spider was surrounding the house. Spooky music played on loud speakers and carved pumpkins lined the stairs up to the house. A man dressed as a zombie handed out candy at the door and thought we were cool. “These are the best costumes I’ve seen so far, a gang of goblins, very realistic kids.” As he tried to pat Billy on the head, I heard the growl that came deep within. I stepped up quickly in front of the zombie and Billy, before the guy lost his fingers or worse. Tyler and River grabbed Billy by the arms and turned him back to the sidewalk and proceeded to calm him. Then he turned back. “I should really apologize for my behavior. Go on ahead and I’ll be right there.” Cole followed Billy to make sure he got his share of candy. Then Billy came running past me and I yelled after him.

  “Where’s Cole at Billy?”

  “He’s getting more candy from the zombie guy.” I knew of course, I shouldn’t have left him there alone but we all have decisions to make in life and I hoped Cole made the right decision tonight.

  We were rounding the corner to the next street when Cole finally caught up with us. He was making loud slurping noises and moaning and groaning. I knew what had happened and it was an unthinkable thing to do on this Halloween night. I turned around and stood in front of him as I glared and waited for him to confess his sin. He just smiled and pushed me aside and walked past. Catching up with him I whispered.

  “You have a few fingers stuck in your teeth.”

  There wasn’t much time to consider the complications that would arise from Cole’s actions. The street we turned down was so thick with fog that it was hard to see your hand in front of your face. Then I ran into River and it was like running into a brick wall. He was mumbling to Billy and Tyler about how eerie this street was. Tyler caught me by the arm and asked.

  “Katelyn, what took you and Cole so long? You know we’re supposed to stay together.” I dreaded telling him anything.

  “Ummm… there was an incident with Cole and the zombie man. This is creepy and there are no other kids around. Is this the right street?”

  We were all hanging onto each other now like Tyler suggested and talking about leaving this street when a light came on at a house right across from us. The fog cleared and a lady in a witch’s costume stepped out the door and onto the porch. She motioned us to come towards her. We moved together like we were in a trance all the way up the steps until we were standing in front of her. She was beautiful with long pink hair that flowed under her big black hat. She had eyes that sparkled like emeralds and a black box with silver lettering that I couldn’t read. She clutched the box tightly and smiled at us all.

  “Welcome to the night of the goblin exchange, you are here to become part of the world of man. My name is Alicia and I am the witch that will help you on your way into the world of man.” She pointed her finger at us and the ground shook. Electric colors raced all around us and we were instantly changed into children that could live in the world of man. Tyler, River and Billy all high-fived each other as I stared at Cole. He was still a big green ugly goblin. He had big ears, big feet and hands, an oddly shaped head and body, weird looking obsidian eyes and the biggest mouth with slimy sharp teeth. Goblins are really not very attractive and I was happy not to be one any longer but poor Cole. He should never have eaten that zombie guy. I felt bad for him even while I was happy for the rest of us.

  As I watched, Alicia stepped forward and held her box up. I could see that the beautifully scripted lettering spelled Cole and before I even knew what was happening, she raised her eyebrow and spoke directly to him.

  “Get in the box goblin boy, you have broken the rules and must go back home until next year.” Immediately he was sucked into the box until the next Halloween.

  The End

  © 2013 Sheryl Seal

  Bars

  by Madhu Kalyan Mattaparthi

  I can't remember. I only have the vague memory of a woman living here with me but if it is a fleeting glimpse into my torrid past or only a figment of my imagination, I cannot say. The only thing that I can say with all certainty is that I do nothing but sit here in my run-down apartment, never being able to leave as I have no key to the door. This isolation is further enhanced by the heavy chains that bar my way. I do not know why they are here.

  I do have a few DVDs that lie caked in a thick layer of dust on my coffee table. However, I am unable to watch them as my television is broken. I can't even remember the last time that it worked properly. My telephone doesn't work either. Whenever I pick it up, I hear nothing but the static that echoes throughout the expansive caverns of my empty life.

  The only thing that I can actually do is play the menial computer games that always seem to appear on my desktop; games that constantly change throughout the day. This first one appears to be some sort of colour matching game. Red, blue, green, yellow, purple, orange... I click lethargically on the dull orbs. All the while I stare out my window at the lush, green fields that lie behind my complex. I realise as I listen to the soft, comforting sounds of birds that contentedly flit to and fro among the branches of the trees, their gentle chirps resonating through the air as they do so, that it’s the only glimpse at freedom that I have.

  I hear an electronic ping come from my computer, so I tear my eyes away from the window to look down at the screen. I must have beaten the game. The colours begin to spin and rotate about themselves, quickly turning from a ring of varying shades into a sickly green miasma of swirling chaos. I chuckle softly to myself at the irony.

  Suddenly, I am distracted by the sound of something dropping through the mail slot o
n my door. This surprises me, as I have never received any sort of mail before. I run quickly over to the door, hoping to catch the mailman before he leaves. I may even start a conversation with him through the mail slot, as is the state of my desperation, but, alas, I must be too late; I can see nothing but the faded red paint of the door that sits solemnly across from my own.

  Feeling somewhat jaded by this, I turn my attention to the humble brown package that lies on my floor. I carry it back to my couch and begin to slowly open it. I desperately hope it’s a letter or gift from someone, anyone. Family, friend, stranger; I just don’t care. The parchment falls away to reveal nothing more than an ordinary barcode scanner, the likes of which could be found at any local grocery store. Thinking that it was delivered to the wrong person, I throw it against my wall in a fit of anger and frustration.

  I lay my head in my hands, as I have become gripped once more into the familiar embrace of loneliness and depression. After a fairly significant amount of time spent wallowing in my own self-pity, I look up again. The scanner must have been accidentally triggered by my throw, as I can see the insignificant red beam resting upon the spine of one of my aforementioned dust-caked DVDs. As I go to pick up the scanner, I notice something peculiar on the screen. Instead of reading the name and price of the DVD, or at least something along those lines, it simply reads "EY H". This thoroughly confuses me, as I never expected to see something this strange from those simple, unassuming bars of black and white.

  After some time spent pondering these events, I begin to develop a theory. I reason that if one of these barcodes held some sort of strange message, then perhaps the others would too.

  I begin to scan everything that I can find in my apartment, from the rest of the DVDs, to the blank white bottle of pills that rests ominously in my medicine cabinet, the purpose of which escapes me. After scanning some more barcodes, I begin to see more of a message take form. "FED", "NG B", "APE", "AN"... It was all gibberish to me. I finally go to the only item that remained un-scanned; the lone can of soup that seems to be perpetually full upon the shelf in my kitchen. I expect to find some more nonsensical letters to add to my already confusing collection. However, this one was different, coherent. It merely reads "WINDOW".

  After a few minutes spent pondering this, I decide that it must be referencing to the window above my desk, as it is the only one in my apartment. I am sceptical though, because I have tried to open that window in the past only to find sealed shut with no apparent means of unlocking it. I decide to try the window anyway and, to my surprise, it opens! I begin to inwardly rejoice, thinking that I am on the verge of escaping from this hell that has so long entrapped me. I suffer a moment of hope that I will finally be reunited with the outside world, but it is not to be.

  Instead of a blessed breath of fresh air, I am greeted by a cold, hard floor of cement as I enter into the secret room behind my window. I immediately walk passed the beautiful painting of a lush, green field and I walk passed the cassette player with the calm chirping of birds set to play on endless loop. I find myself face-to-face with a cork-board that is completely covered by faded yellow scraps of paper, each one filled with a multitude of those familiar barcodes. As I scan them, a message begins to take shape. "TH", "HAV", "HILE", "IES". I scan every scrap of paper and I finally have my obsession, the completed message is in my grasp. It reads: "THEY HAVE FED YOU NOTHING BUT LIES. ESCAPE WHILE YOU STILL CAN."

  I laugh aloud at the implication and absolute absurdity of the situation but a clanging sound, coming from within my apartment, distracts my dark revelry.

  I return to find the chains that have so long barred my way has fallen to the floor and the deadbolt has turned itself in the lock. I am finally free, I can finally return to normal society!

  As I push my way through the portal, I am greeted by a dark and ominous hallway. The electric lights flicker and spark, as if they are about to burst at any moment. As I take stock of my surroundings, I notice three doors besides my own. One is sealed shut with a multitude of boards and nails. Another is completely bricked over, the hastily done cement-work having dripped down and hardened upon the floor. As for the door that I had seen across from mine? I could see through its mail slot that it is devoid of any and all furnishings; the yellowed wallpaper is peeling around the edges.

  I now look to my right and see a long and dimly lit hallway that stretches further than what I can make out. I take a deep breath and begin the long march down the hallway. After walking for what feels like an eternity, I happen upon a yellowed scrap of paper resting upon the floor, its face bearing yet another of those familiar bars of black and white. "IS ANY PERSON TRULY FREE?” Struck by a sudden pang of fear, I drop the scrap and continue nervously on my way. I walk only a little bit more when I find yet another scrap, this one so yellowed and torn that the ink was barely readable upon the page. "IS ANY PERSON TRULY SANE?"

  I panic now and begin to run. I don’t care where I am going, I just want to escape from the dark and imposing walls that seem to mock me at every step. I still continue to run as the walls begin to twist and spiral, taking on inconceivable shapes. It seems that I am running forever, never to escape this prison, this hell that has had me trapped for an eternity within its grim jaws, the likes of which must have been machinated by Satan himself; I continue to run.

  ***

  I write to you now, having finally escaped from the confines of my prison. I can finally look out of my window at the people who frolic to and fro, with their children and their pets, all the while oblivious to life's challenges. Even if it begins to rain, they will simply lay out umbrellas over their picnic tables; they will allow nothing to interrupt their quiet Sunday afternoons. These joyous scenes of normality bring me great peace. I need only look past the iron bars that stand in my window and block my view, all the while being wrapped snugly within the warm, comforting arms of my straitjacket.

  The End

  © 2013 Madhu Kalyan Mattaparthi

  DEATH’S TRACK

  By Alan Hardy

  The first time it happened was on a very cold night in early winter. It didn’t scare George particularly, and he certainly had no presentiment that he was going to die.

  He’d just gone to bed and, shivering, tried to pull the bedclothes snugly around him to keep out the cold. There was a tug on one side of the bed as if the sheets were being held back. He gave a forceful tug in return and they were released. They had obviously got caught up under the bed and he had had to ‘unjam’ them, so to speak.

  That’s what he thought at the time, although even then he sensed just for a moment that a figure by the side of the bed, obscured by the darkness, had been holding the bedclothes back. He laughed, and drifted off to sleep, though not without a sideways glance or two.

  He chuckled about it in the morning, as he munched his breakfast cereal in his lonely bed-sit. He’d had a lucky escape from the devil’s clutches. He giggled stupidly.

  He’d been living alone for a couple of years now, ever since moving to the big city from the village he’d grown up in. It had been a wrench leaving that village, with its tiny, winding street, handful of shops, quaint old single-track railway station, and people who all knew each other. He had never got used to the chilling anonymity of the city. He’d never settled into a long-term job, just a succession of unsatisfying temporary positions, and had only had one proper girlfriend, Jennie. Although he had been crazy about her, and still was, it hadn’t worked out.

  He missed the security of the village. Even the ‘dares’ he and his mates used to get up to on Saturdays, like running over the track in front of oncoming trains, now seemed cosy and safe. It was so unlike the big city, where he felt totally lost. He just couldn’t make a go of it. He couldn’t progress in life. It was as if an invisible hand were holding him back.

  He often got that feeling. The feeling he was being pulled back. He would sense somebody or something behind him who was tugging on him, who had grabbed hold of a piece of his
clothing (his coat-tail or coat-sleeve maybe), or even his body (his arms, legs or neck) and wouldn’t let him break loose. He would be walking by shop-windows and catch strange glimpses of a shadowy figure close behind him, overwhelming him with its scary presence. ‘Glimpses’ was the wrong word. Whenever he stopped and stared closely in the shop-window, or spun nervously round, he saw nothing. It was more a sensation, a fear, a premonition.

  One day he was sitting in a café, still wearing his coat and eating some badly-cooked sausage and chips. He was intrigued by a figure sitting at a table in the far corner of the drab, damp-feeling room. What with intervening tables seating other people, coughing and spluttering their way through the unwholesome grub, he couldn’t see clearly but the figure seemed to be clad in black, hooded in some way and just broodingly sitting there. George was distracted as a couple of other diners suddenly laughed out loud and, when he looked again into the corner, the black figure was gone. George shuddered and passed his hand over his forehead to see if he was hot. Maybe he had a fever. He shuddered again; he was icy-cold.

  He swallowed a bit more of the grub, paid the surly-faced waitress and rose to leave. As he tried to move away he felt himself being held back. He yanked at whatever was tying him down. His hand instinctively moved to a button of his opened coat which had caught on the rim of the table. He disentangled it and stumbled a bit as his body was released. Red-faced, and acutely aware of one or two strange looks from his sour-faced fellow-diners, he tottered to the door, fearing he were about to topple over. Outside he drew in the cold, invigorating air.