The Night She Came Back , part 1



      I keep thinking about the night my mother died , what my uncle said , and what happened after that , the unspeakable crime I committed. You will probably think I'm crazy , and you would be right to think so. I deserve no mercy for what I've done , nor do I expect any. God is witness to my insanity , and my judge. And surely , He will show me no mercy.
    My mother died of brain cancer. I watched her day after day , and week after week , as her mind slowly deteriorated. I was the one who took care of her. My brother , Sam , and sister , Cheryl , couldn't handle the responsibility. They were never responsible about anything , especially when it came to money. And since I was single , with no family of my own , I had no trouble moving into her apartment to take care of her until the inevitable end. They came to see her , but they never stayed long. I wanted their help. I needed their help.
   When mother became bed ridden after the second relapse , I urged her to return to the hospital. But she refused anymore treatment. She said she was tired of feeling sick all the time because of the chemotherapy , and that even if she were treated again , it didn't mean that there wouldn't be a third relapse. She said she knew it was her time to die , and she would rather be at home , in her own bed , when it happened.
    There was nothing I could do ; nothing I could say , except watch her die slowly. I asked Sam and Cheryl for their help , but it was useless asking them for anything. Cheryl was emotionally unstable , and Sam was in debt to a loan shark. The last time he came , I got into an argument with him. He wanted to borrow money from me. He was always asking to borrow money , and always slow to pay it back.
     I wrote him a check , without asking what it was for. Not that he would ever tell me. I was forever saving his ass , and he always came back for more.
    I gave him the check and practically slammed the door in his face on his way out.
    That night , I sat by my mother's bed , watching her sleep. She had been sleeping entire days now , almost round the clock. She was deteriorating quickly , her mind more than her body. She wouldn't live but a week , maybe two. She was on a constant morphine drip for the pain. She had once been a vibrant , attractive woman.   Now she was like a withered corpse , ravaged by disease.
    I fell asleep in the chair. In the morning , uncle Leo called. He's my mother's older brother. When she became bed ridden , I asked him to help me take care of her , since he was the only family she had besides the three of us. He refused , instead , urging me to put her in a hospital , or at least hire a private nurse. Although I wasn't exactly lacking in the money department , but not rich like uncle Leo , I opted to take care of her myself. It was my duty as a loving son. She had taken care of me all of the times that I had been ill , and now it was time for me to do the same. It was my responsibility.
    "How is she?"
    "How do you think she is?!" I said a little too harshly.
    "Have you thought about what I said?"
    "Yes , I have , and it's insane. Do you think I would actually consider something like that , even if it were true?"
   "Do you still have the card?"
   "Yes , I have it."
   "Then I urge you to reconsider. If you don't , you'll never see her again."
   He hung up. I removed the card from my wallet. Uncle Leo had given it to me a few days before. There's a way to bring her back! he had said , and handed me the card. On one side were the words , Resurrection Inc. , and on the other , a telephone number.
   "What is this , a joke?"
   "No joke ," he said.
   For a moment , I looked from his face ~ which was dead serious ~ to the card. "You want me to believe there really is a company called Resurrection Inc. , and that they actually raise people from the dead?"
   He nodded. "Yes."
  "No. It's a joke. My mother is dying and you want me to believe. .."  I was too angry to finish. I flicked the card in his face. He bent down to pick it up. "Get out! Just get out , uncle Leo!"
   "No , Richard! This is not a joke. I wouldn't make up something like this. I know it sounds crazy ~"
   "It sounds insane , uncle Leo."
   "I agree. But please take the card , in case you change your mind. Please , Richard."
   He held the card out to me. Reluctantly , I took it. "Now , get out."
   "Alright , I'll get out. But I have to warn you. If you decide to go through with it , there's a chance that it might not.... that she may be...."
    "What are you trying to say?"
    "Nothing. Never mind."
   Uncle Leo left , and I didn't see him again until the day of the funeral , which was almost three weeks later. He kept watching me the whole time. He didn't shed one tear. I think he knew what I was thinking.

    The wake had been attended by only a few family friends , besides uncle Leo , Sam , Cheryl , and myself. Mother never socialized much , choosing to spending much of her time reading , and gardening ; therefore she didn't have many friends.
    I wanted to shout at all of them to get out , but instead I kept silent and waited for them to leave.
   After everyone had gone , Sam lingered behind. It wasn't out of sympathy or sorrow. He wanted more money.
   "Jesus Christ , Sam! You're a real piece of work! Your mother is dead and all you can think of is money!? You should be ashamed of yourself!"
   He hung his head. "I know. I am ashamed."
   "How dare you come in here and ask for money! I've saved your sorry ass more times than I can count , and each and every time you come crawling back for more , like the pitiful weasel you are. Well , this time I can't help you! You will have to get your money from someone else. Now , get the hell out of here!"
   "But , they're going to kill me , Richard! They're going to kill me if I don't come up with the money!"
   "Ask uncle Leo."
   "I did. He too said no."
   "Then I guess you're on your own!"
   "But ... you can't let them kill me , Richard! I'm your brother , for God sake!"
   "I don't know who you are anymore , but you're not my brother."
  This time , I did slam the door in his face. I locked it and stood with my back against it , while he pounded on it , shouting my name , pleading for me to help him. In a few moments , he gave up and left.
    As he drove away , I wanted to yank open the door and run after him. But , I couldn't help him anymore. I had no more money to give him.
    I sat down on the floor. I no longer felt angry. All of the anger and frustration of the last few weeks , was finally gone. There was nothing left but emptiness. I wanted to cry , to let it all out. And yet , I couldn't. As much as I wanted to , as hard as I tried , the tears would not come.
    I don't know how long I sat there , with my back against the door. Finally , I got up and went home. After closing and locking the door  , I  removed the card from my wallet. I went to the phone. Picking  up the receiver , I hesitated. If my mother came back , how would I explain it to the neighbors? Someone would see her eventually. And how would I explain it to Sam and Cheryl? That uncle Leo had told me about a shady company that secretly raised people from the dead? They would volunteer to carry me off to the funny farm.
I wouldn't be able to explain it. I put the receiver down. Looking again at the card , I shook my head. I couldn't believe I was actually even considering it! It had to be a sick joke.
    I called uncle Leo's cell phone. I was prepared to tell him exactly what I thought of him.
   However , when he answered , I hesitated. "This had better not be a joke , uncle Leo."
   "What's that , Richard?"
   "Resurrection Inc."
   "It's not a joke."
  "When you gave me the card , you were going to tell me something."
   "I was going to tell you that... that she might not be what you expect. Let's just leave it at that ," he said.
   "What's that supposed to mean?"
   "Please don't ask , Richard. If I tell you , they will know. And believe me , these are people you don't want to mess with. So , please do it , or don't do it! It's your choice. And if you do , then good luck. Good bye , Richard." He hung up.
    I called the number on the back of the card. It was answered by a female automated voice. "To speak to a representative , please press one. To make a complaint , press two."
   I pressed one. Another female voice came on line. This one sounded not much different than the other one. "Hello. Resurrection Inc., where the dearly departed are not forgotten. Your loss is our loss. Your grief is our grief. Your joy is our joy. Please wait while I connect you with a representative."
    If it wasn't a joke , it sure sounded like one.
   I was put on hold for several minutes. Distorted music played annoyingly loud in the back ground. I was about to hang up and forget the whole thing , when there was a click , and another voice came on line , this one not so pleasant , a man this time. He quickly went through the same spiel , sounding bored , as if he had been reciting the same thing all day.
   "To whom am I speaking?"
   "My name is Richard Brooks ," I told him. 
  "Alright , Mr. Brooks , before we begin , I will need some information about the deceased , such as full name , maiden name , age , and location where deceased is buried , which should include state , city , and name of cemetery. I will also need your state , city , and address. After you have given me said information , I will tell you how we accept payment."
    He sounded bored again , as if he were reciting from a script. His voice droned like a bill collection recording , and again I was tempted to hang up.
   Before giving him the information , I asked how much it was going to cost.
   "For an adult , your total cost will be fifty thousand."
   I dropped the receiver. "Mr. Brooks? Still there?"
   "Yes , I'm still here."
   How was I supposed to come up with that kind of money? I had less than ten thousand in my entire account. It would wipe me out. I supposed I could borrow the money from uncle Leo. Would he help me?
   If not , I would have to borrow the money from a bank.
   "Do you accept , Mr. Brooks?"
   "No , I don't accept. It's outrageous!"
   "Well , Mr. Brooks , you are certainly free to decline , but let me tell you that you will find no one else who is offering this type of service." He paused a moment. "Do you wish to decline , Mr. Brooks?"
    "No ," I said reluctantly. "Go ahead and do it."
   "Very well , sir. I will just need the requested information , and then I will tell you how we accept payment for this service."
   I gave him all the information. I heard fingers quickly tapping a computer keypad. "Thank you , Mr. Brooks. Now listen carefully , and please do not interrupt , because the following information is very important. We do not accept personal checks , money orders , or credit cards. We only accept cash. If you are unable to accept this transaction with cash , then please tell me now , and this call will be terminated. Can you complete this transaction , Mr. Brooks?"
   "Yes , I suppose I can."
  "Suppose , Mr. Brooks? Either you can , or you cannot."
  "Yes , I can!"
  "Excellent. Continue listening carefully , and please do not interrupt. In approximately twenty four hours you will receive a special delivery. Please pay the gentlemen the cash when they ask for it. If said cash is not handed over , dire consequences may befall certain loved ones , or yourself. Is that understood , Mr. Brooks?"
   "Excuse me?" I said. I couldn't believe what I had just heard. "Is that a threat?"
   "No , Mr. Brooks , I am simply stating a fact."
   "Sounds like a threat to me!"
   "I see no reason to get excited , Mr. Brooks."
   "Like hell there isn't! You listen to me you smug son of a bitch , and don't interrupt. This transaction is terminated!"
   I slammed the receiver down so hard , that it actually cracked.  My first thought was to call the police. But what would I tell them? That I had done business with a company that raised corpses , and that they had threatened me physically if I didn't pay up? I really couldn't prove any of it. All I had was a so called business card , and a telephone number , which  still wouldn't prove anything.
   I called uncle Leo back. I wanted to know everything he knew about Resurrection Inc..
   "I'm in the middle of something , Richard. Make it quick."
   "Tell me about Resurrection Inc. Who are they and how did you find out about them?"
   "I can't tell you anything ," he said.
   "Why not?"
   "Because I don't know anything."
   He was lying. I knew he was hiding something , and I was going to find out what it was.
   "Stop lying to me."
   "I'm not lying , Richard."
   "You said they were dangerous."
   "They are dangerous. That's all I know , believe me."
   "I don't believe you ," I said. "You're hiding something. Something you don't want me to know. Tell me what it is."
    "I wish I could , but I can't."
    "Can't? Or won't?"
   "I have to go , Richard. Please don't call me about this again. I don't want to talk about it."
   "Damn it , uncle Leo! I was threatened by these people , and I want to know what the hell you know about them."
   He was silent a moment. "What happened?"
   "They threatened physical violence to me , or someone I know if I didn't pay them. But I don't have the money , so I'm not going through with it."
   "How much do you need?"
   "I said I'm not doing it."
   "How much do you need?"
After a moment of silence , I said , "One hundred thousand."
   "Did they say when they would make the delivery?"
   "Twenty four hours from now."
   "Alright , listen to me , Richard. On my way there tomorrow morning , I'll stop off at my bank and get the money. When I hang up , call them back and tell them you have their money. Do exactly as they say. Understand?"
   "Why are you doing this , uncle Leo?"
   "Why do you think , Richard? Because I can't stand to see you in pain."
   He hung up , and I stood there staring at the phone. I never knew that my uncle even cared about me.
   I redialed the number for Resurrection Inc.. It was answered by the same woman. "Resurrection Inc. How can I help you?"
   "It's Richard Brooks again ," I said.
   "One moment , please." She put me on hold again. The music was worse than before. I was on hold for almost five minutes."
   "Hello again , Mr. Brooks. Change your mind?"
This time I heard something in the asshole's voice , I hadn't heard before : greed.
   "Yes , I changed my mind. I have your money."
   Before I hung up , I said ,"Don't ever threaten me again."

The Darkness , part 2

.... And found myself in my bedroom closet. I lay on the floor , gasping for breath , stinking of piss , sweat , and the foul slime odor. I felt like I had run a marathon. I lay there for some time , letting the pain in my legs and lungs slowly subside. I wanted to make the images of the horrors I had seen , go away , but they would be forever etched in my memory , giving me many sleepless nights.

   The doorway to the other world was gone. There was no trace of it. Had it not been for the slime that still covered me , and the laceration to my ankle - which throbbed like a rotted tooth - I would have believed it to have been a waking nightmare.

   Later , much later , I would begin to question my sanity.

  The closet door was wide open. The light I had seen from the other side , had been the glow of my Spider man night light. Spidey had saved me - this time.

  Getting to my feet , I nearly passed out. I waited a minute , and then limped into the room , shutting the closet door. I sat on the bed and switched on the bedside lamp , to examine the wound to my ankle. It looked nasty , deep enough to require stitches. My entire foot was covered in blood. It was bleeding all over the carpet , but I didn't care. I had to do something before I passed out.

 
   There was only one thing I could do. I had to wake my parents.

   Switching on the hall light , I limped to their room. The house was dark and quiet. It made periodic settling noises. When I was years younger , I used to think those sounds were made by monsters.

   I knocked loudly. It seemed I knocked forever. Finally my father opened the door. I looked up at him. He looked down at me , frowning.

   "Kyle? What....?"

   I wondered if he was angry at me for waking him  , or because I was covered in stinky slime and smelling of piss. I tried to tell him what happened , but I couldn't : everything around me began to fade , to recede from me. I heard a far off voice say ,"Frank? Is that Kyle?" and I knew it was my mother.

  Finally , I collapsed.

   ....And found myself back where I had just escaped from. This time , instead of being pursued , I was suspended in a slime sack ,  struggling to free myself. I could hear other children screaming for help. I could hear the eager and hungry sounds of the shadowy creatures. This time I would not escape them. They would finally devour me.

    I screamed.

   I woke in the hospital. My parents were standing by the bed , looking worried.

   "Am I going to be alright?"

   They looked at each other , then back at me. "Of course you are , sweetheart ," my mother said. "You passed out. The doctor ran some tests to find out what might have caused it , but he couldn't find a thing."

   "But what about - ?" I pulled back the bed sheet and looked at my ankle. There was no dressing , no laceration! It was as if I had never been wounded!

   "What is it , Kyle?" she said.

  "Nothing."

   How could I tell them that what I had experienced was real and not a nightmare? Even though I was seven , and would not be blamed , I didn't want them to believe that I was crazy. So , I said nothing.

   "Was it a nightmare that scared you , Kyle?" my father said.

   "Yeah , it must have been a nightmare."

   I had looked into the face of madness and escaped the Darkness. But , for how long? I knew it would come for me again ; it was only a matter of time. And when it did , I had to be ready for it.

The Darkness , part 1

  
    The darkness came for me when I was seven.

    Ever since that night , I had always been terrified of the dark , sleeping with the lights on , and when I got older , popping caffeine pills like they were candy , because I was afraid to close my eyes. I still am. I knew there was nothing to be afraid of ; darkness is nothing more than the absence of light. But there are things in the dark that should be feared. Things that can drive you mad if you were to look them in the face.  Because you would be looking into the face of madness and insanity.

  
    Some people believe in the devil. Others believe that we are responsible for the evil in this world. What most people don't know , is that there are things beyond this world that are far more evil than the darkness that abides in the human soul. Things foul and disgusting. Things of madness and nightmare. They live in the darkness ; they hide in the shadows so we cannot see them. If we did see them , the mere sight of them would drive us insane. They are afraid of the light , like some of us fear the dark. They influence our dreams ; they are the cause of our nightmares. They themselves are responsible for the evil in this world.

  
    Every once in a while , they will venture forth from their world , their dimensional plane , into ours , to take some of us. Always children , never adults. Children are the most susceptible to their influence , the most easily frightened. Those they cannot easily influence , such as most adults , they attempt to control through dreams. Those they cannot prey upon , they drive insane. These tortured souls become serial murderers , and child predators.

  
   I first encountered the Darkness when I was seven.

   I was a frail , skinny child , afraid of almost everything , including my own shadow. But it wasn't until after my first encounter that I developed a fear of the dark , and it has remained with me ever since.
  
   One night I fell asleep , and when I woke up , found myself , not in my bed , in my own room , but in a strange place. An alien world. It was cold and dark. There were grayish walls that dripped and oozed a disgusting grey slime. The floor beneath me was covered with the same stuff. It had a putrid odor.

  
    At first I thought I might be dreaming. , but at that age I was able to distinguish dreams from waking life , and this was no dream. There was a faint , dull light that seemed to emanate from the floor and the walls. Getting to my feet , I discovered that my entire body , from head to foot , was covered in the weird slime. It had even gotten into my mouth. It tasted foul and disgusting. I wanted to vomit. Instead , I spat it out , and looked at my hands. It felt as disgusting as it tasted. It stuck to my hands as stubborn as spider silk ; no amount of shaking or wiping would get rid of all of it.

   Looking around at the slime covered floors and walls , I realized that the light came not from them , but from the slime itself. And since I was covered in the stuff , it was coming from me as well! I shuffled toward the nearest wall , hoping to discover a way out. However , the closer I seemed to get , the farther the wall seemed to recede , as things have a way of doing in dreams. But this was no dream ; I was awake and desperate to find a way out.

   It wasn't long before I heard the screams .... and the other sounds. Sounds I had never heard before and hoped to never hear again. I can only describe them inhuman whispering ; eager and hungry. The screams were faint and far off , but the whispering sounds were closer , much closer. So close , in fact , that they seemed to be coming from everywhere.

   For a moment , my heart seemed to stop , then beat like a jack hammer. My only thought was to get out of there. It was then that I noticed a faint light , like the beginning of sunrise. I ran toward it. I ran for all I was worth , my seven year old legs pumping like the cylinders of an engine. I was aware that my feet made disgusting squishing sounds as I ran.

  
    I heard the screams again , nearer this time , and the whispering , also nearer. I recognized the screams as those of children crying out for help. I wanted to find them and help them. But where were they? All I could see was slime. It was everywhere. I was ankle deep in it.

   Footing was slick. I slipped several times. The second time , I fell flat on my face in the stuff. The whispering sounds were almost upon me! I struggled to my feet and looked back. What I saw brought a scream to my throat. I couldn't swallow. My mouth  was full of the putrid stuff.

  I continued running for the light , spitting the stuff out and retching at the same time. I slipped again , but managed to stay on my feet. I wanted to erase the image of what I had seen , from my mind. But it was too horrifying. What I had seen was like something from a Lovecraft nightmare. Something so hideous and monstrous that it defied description.  All I really saw were the tentacles and gaping maw of the nearest creature. It oozed the same slime that covered everything in this nightmarish landscape.

   Like the walls , I was afraid the light would get farther away , the closer I seemed to get. But it didn't. It was getting brighter. It was definitely getting brighter!

   I ran faster. I ran , never taking my eyes off the light , which gradually grew brighter. Soon I would be out! I would be out of this nightmare world and back in my own bedroom. I was sure the light was a doorway back to my own world. I did not know how I knew this , but I knew.

   I seemed to be running for an eternity. I began to tire. My legs felt like lead. The vile stuff made it difficult to run , but I ran as fast and hard as I could , not looking back a second time , because if I did , the monsters would get me. I kept my eyes fixed on the light , trying to ignore the pain that shot up my legs like a bullet , and into my lungs.

   The screams became louder , and the whispering sounds grew more intense. Upon the walls I began to notice strange shapes. They were sacks of the vile slime ; some of them were moving! Looking directly at one of them , I saw a face peering out at me , a child's face , screaming for help! I wanted to stop and help them , but if I stopped running , I would be devoured by the monsters that pursued me.

   I ran toward the light. It was so bright now. Squinting my eyes , I thought I could make out the faint out line of a doorway. Was it real? I was almost there! The pain in my legs and lungs , was unbearable. I wanted to stop running. I wanted to give up and let them have me. But I ran .... and ran .... and ran. The opening - it was a doorway! - was almost upon me. If I could just manage ....  something grabbed me from behind , pulling me face down into the slime. I screamed , and my bladder let loose. Looking back , I saw that one of the monsters had latched onto my left ankle with a tentacle. It was no thicker than the limb of a small dog , but incredibly strong. It was the same color of the slime ; black veins coursed through it.  

   It dug into my flesh , drawing blood.

  
   Screaming more in anger than pain , I grabbed hold of the tentacle and viciously sank my teeth into it. There was an ungodly shriek ; foul smelling black blood erupted from it , and it released it's hold.

   Ignoring the pain in my ankle , I leaped through the doorway ....



UFO Journal

   
    I believe in the existence of extraterrestrial life , that we are not alone in the universe. In the movie , Contact , Jodie foster poses the question of life originating elsewhere.

    "If not ," she concludes ,"then it's an awful waste of space."

    If other civilizations do exist within our own galaxy , have some of them visited us , and have some of them kidnapped us? Given the vast distances between the stars , it is highly unlikely. Maybe even impossible. But who knows what a highly advanced civilization may be capable of. Interstellar travel? Inter dimensional travel? Time travel?

    Recorded history is full of unexplained , mass disappearances. In 1939 , in the province of Nan King , China , three thousand soldiers disappeared without a trace. It happened in a fairly populated area , but no one saw , or heard anything. And in 1711 , four thousand Spanish soldiers vanished while on an expedition into the Pyrenees mountains in America. The entire Mayan civilization mysteriously vanished over night. The first English settlement at Roanoke , North Carolina , also mysteriously disappeared.
   These pieces of historical fact were included in the movie , Phantoms , which was released in 1998 , and which was also a novel by Dean Koontz. At the end of the book , Koontz speculates on the possibility that a similar creature to his Ancient Enemy , may exist , that may be responsible for world wide mass disappearances.

    In each of these cases , no bodies ever turned up , alive or dead , and no mass graves were ever discovered. To date , the fate of all these people remains unknown. They seemed to have vanished from the face of the earth.

   What happened to these people? Were they taken away by UFOs? Or did the earth simply open up and swallow them? No one will ever know.

Shadows

  
    "There are no such things as monsters , Lindsay!" Shannon said , turning off the television. "Now please go upstairs and get to bed. I'm not telling you again. I'll be right up to tuck you in."

    "I don't need you to tuck me in ; I'm not a baby!"

    "Then stop acting like one , and get to bed."

    "I will if you sit up with me until I fall asleep."

    "I thought you weren't a baby."

   "I'm not. I just don't want the shadows to get me before I fall asleep."

   "What are you talking about?"

   "The shadows can't get you when you're asleep ," Lindsay said.

   "They can't get you at all , Lindsay. They're not real."

   "They are real , and if you send me up there alone , they'll get me. Will you please sit with me till I'm asleep? Please , Shannon?"

   Shannon sighed heavily , rose from the sofa and extended her hand to Lindsay. "Alright. Come on , let's see if we can keep the Bogey man away."

   Lindsay grinned and took her hand. As they climbed the stairs , she said , "It's not the Bogey Man. It's something much worse."

   Lightning flashed at the windows , followed by a low rumble of thunder. In a few minutes , the wind rose and rain began to fall.

   After Lindsay had settled comfortably into her bed , and Shannon had pulled the girl's computer chair beside it , she said ,"Why do you believe monsters are real , Lindsay? Have you ever seen one?"

   "Well , not really. But I have dreamed about them."

   "So , that makes them real?"

   "No. But it does when I keep dreaming about them , and when they keep telling me they're coming to get me."

   "What do they look like?"
 
   "Like shadows. Black , snakelike thingies."

   "Is it the same dream?"

   The girl nodded. "The same dream."

   "It's only a dream , Lindsay. What's called a recurring nightmare."

   "What's that?"

   "Having the same dream more than once. Everyone has them. But it doesn't mean the dream is real."

   "This one is ," the girl said. Shannon saw fear in her eyes.

    After Lindsay had fallen asleep , she went back down stairs and switched on the television. She thought about what Lindsay had told her. She remembered her own nightmares from years ago , and how they had frightened her to the point that she dreaded going to sleep. She had out grown her fear of the dark. Would Lindsay?

   Lightning flashed at the windows , followed by a low rumbling. She listened to the rainfall , remembering how it had calmed her as a child. Her eye lids grew heavy. In a few moments she was asleep.

   She came awake with a start. Had someone screamed , or had she been dreaming?

   "Lindsay?"

   The house was dark ; the television was off. The storm had knocked out the power. Shannon stumbled through the living room , feeling her way to the kitchen. She remembered Mr. Ambrose telling her that there were a couple of flash lights in the first drawer beside the sink. She found them right where he said  they would be , and checked to see if both were in good working order. They were. Lightning flashed ; this time there was a loud peal of thunder that made her flinch. She never did like thunder ; it scared her now almost as much as it had when she was a little girl. But she did like the sound of the rain. She could hear it now , as it beat steadily at the kitchen windows.

   Back in the living room , she stopped at the stairs and looked up. Lightning flashed intermittently , like a photographer taking pictures of a crime scene , illuminating the darkness that so terrified her as a child. She was not now so sure that she had completely overcome her fear. She didn't want to go up there , even though she had a flashlight with her. But she had to check on Lindsay. She was not certain if she had been awakened by a scream , or if she had dreamed it. Perhaps Lindsay had experienced another recurring nightmare , and had cried out in her sleep.

   She ascended the stairs , slowly , telling herself that the darkness had no substance , that it could not hurt her. It seemed to work. Reaching Lindsay's door , she shone the flash light into the room . The bed was empty.

   "Lindsay?" Had she gone to the bathroom?

   Shannon thought she heard something in the room , but she was the only  one there. Probably just her imagination. Lightning flashed , and the darkness receded for only a moment. She hurried to the upstairs bathroom ; Lindsay was not there.

   She looked all over the house ; Lindsay was nowhere to be found. She went back upstairs , remembering that there was one place she hadn't looked. Lindsay's closet.

   She yanked open the door , and directed the flash lights beam into the darkness , revealing nothing but a young girl's ward robe and shoes. No Lindsay. Where else could she be? She had checked every possible place a little girl could hide .... or had she? Another place she hadn't looked , was under Lindsay's bed.

   She was shutting the door , when she heard a sharp thump. "Lindsay? Is that you? Get out of there right now!"

   The girl came out reluctantly shielding her eyes from the flashlight. Something had frightened her ; her eyes darted back and forth through the darkness. She was trembling.

   "Lindsay , what were you doing in there?"

   "Hiding."

   "Hiding from what?"

   "The shadows. Their here!"

  "It was just a dream , Lindsay! I told you there are no such things ~"

   An almost familiar sound came from the darkness. To Shannon it sounded like the hiss of an angry or frightened animal , but what kind of animal , she could not say. She had never heard anything quite like it before.

   She said ,"Please tell me that was a cat!"

   Lindsay was shaking her head , her eyes fixed on a spot directly over Shannon's shoulder. Shannon turned reluctantly to see what the girl was looking at , and as she did so , there was a sudden stab of lightning. In the brief seconds that illuminated the room , she saw something that she knew she would never see again ; she had a sudden premonition that she and Lindsay would not live to tell about it.
   It was  a large serpentlike creature. Shannon remembered seeing a movie called Anaconda. This thing looked almost as big as the creatures in the film. It was blacker than the darkness itself , and in it's head were two  yellow eyes ,  like those of a cat.  They shone eerily in the beam of Shannon's flashlight.  There were two of the creatures. The one nearest Shannon towered more than halfway to the ceiling. Another hovered above the girl's bed , it's catlike eyes fixed on Lindsay.

   As Lindsay and Shannon screamed , both creatures hissed simultaneously , and maws as black as the endless void between the stars , opened and devoured each of  them whole. It moments they were gone , absorbed into a darkness that was more than shadows.



 

The Hole

    Bert found the hole when he went out back to mow the lawn. It hadn't been there before. It was a small hole , about a foot wide , which led him to believe that a gopher was most likely responsible.

    "Damn gopher ," he muttered.

    He adjusted his Dodgers cap , and walked over to the shed to get the lawn mower. He would deal with the pest as soon as he took care of the yard. He preferred to deal with the gopher first , but if Martha saw him digging holes in the yard , or flooding it , she would have a fit , and Bert was in no mood to listen to the old crow bitch and moan.

    The mower was a John Deere. He had spent a small fortune on it , and Martha had squawked plenty about that , too. But Bert didn't care how much it cost. One of the reasons he had bought it in the first place , was to piss Martha off , because he knew that she was even more of a tight wad  than he was.
    As he pushed it from the shed , he thought of the perfect solution to get rid of the pest. He would drown it out. He wished he could find an easier solution to getting rid of Martha.
    It was a warm , spring day , the perfect time for yard work. The sky was clear  and birds chirped in every tree. Starting the mower , Bert looked up and saw Martha on the back porch , sipping daintily through a straw from a glass of lemonade. He frowned. When you saw Martha for the first time , your natural reaction was to flinch. She wasn't exactly what you would call a handsome woman. To Bert , she looked too much like the actress , Anne Ramsey , from the movie , Throw Momma From The Train. They had been married almost fourty six years , and Bert still hadn't gotten used to that face.
    On the patio table  stood a tall pitcher of ice filled lemonade , which was already half empty , depending whether you were an optimist or a pessimist. Bert was a pessimist by habit. He knew that by the time he finished with the yard work , every drop of lemonade would be gone.
    He switched off the engine and climbed the porch steps to pour himself a glass.
    Martha eyed him suspiciously. Every time he came near her , she gave him the evil eye. Bert knew it was because she liked to pass gas when she was alone , and didn't want anyone near her.
   "What are you doing , Bert?"
   "What does it look like I'm doing?"
   "Stalling , that's what."
    Bert finished his drink with an exaggerated sigh of content , and plunked the tumbler down on the surface of the table , almost hard enough to shatter it. Martha glared at him. The table had been a wedding gift from her mother.  She loved putting it out every spring and summer. It had little piglets in Tu - Tu's dancing across the glass surface. Bert hated it ; he thought it was a stupid wedding gift.
   He started the mower again. As he passed the hole , he noticed that while he had been enjoying his lemonade , the hole had gotten bigger. It was now three to four times as big as it had been. He switched off the engine again , and climbed off to have a closer look.
    As he stared at it , it widened several more feet , and his eyes widened in surprise. Dirt spilled from it's sides and fell away into the hole. "That son of a bitch better be having fun ," he said. "It doesn't have long on this earth."
   "Leave that gopher alone , Bert , and get busy! The yard ain't going to get mowed by itself."
    Forget the yard. He was taking care of that gopher now ,  while he still had a yard! He ran to fetch the garden hose and turned it on.  Hurrying back to the hole , he managed to trample through Martha's prized petunias , slopping water all over himself.
   Martha screamed when she saw him stomping through her flowers.  Dropping her glass , she hurried off the porch , heading straight for Bert with a murderous glare. "What are you doing to my tunies!?"
   Bert always laughed when she called them that. But he wasn't laughing now. He was so intent on getting rid of the gopher that he hadn't noticed that the hose had become entangled around his feet. Martha had sank to her knees before her tunies , sobbing and screaming. Bert tripped over the hose and fell flat on his face , inches from the hole , also managing to squash at least a dozen tunies , as well. He gasped when he saw it. It was now over six and a half feet in diameter. Dirt fell from it's sides as it slowly continued to widen.
    "That must be a damn big gopher!" he croaked. Then he heard the strange noises. At first he couldn't tell where the noises were coming from , because Martha was making so much noise herself. Then he realized they were coming from within the hole.
    A thousand moans ...
    A thousand screams ...
   Demented laughter. The hairs on his arms stood on end. He peered into the hole and saw only darkness.
    "That ain't no damn gopher!" he whispered.
   Martha was still kneeling by her tunies , moaning and sobbing. "Damn you , Bert! Look what you did! You ruined my tunies , you bastard! Now they'll never win first prize!"
    Still sobbing , she went into the shed , and in a moment , reappeared with a shovel. "You know what I'm going to do with this shovel , Bert?"
    "Dig another hole?" he croaked , and laughed.
   "Laugh it up , funny man! You won't think it's funny when I smash your head in with it , and then shove it up your ass!"
    She raised the shovel high above her head , and Bert rolled aside to his left. Before the blow could fall that would bash his brains all over the yard , Martha's feet stumbled over the hose. For a few seconds she staggered precariously over the edge of the hole , with a look of surprise on her face .... and fell in. Her screams didn't last very long.

    That night , Bert dreamed that Martha had come back. Her silhouette stood framed in the bedroom doorway , her hands behind her back.

    "I forgive you for ruining my tunies , Bert ," she said. "But I can't forgive you for killing me. For that , you have to be punished."

    She came into the room and stood beside the bed. She removed her hands from behind her back. She no longer had the shovel. This time it was an ax. And this time the blow would fall.

    He awoke with a sudden start ; he was drenched in sweat. He noticed at once that he was not alone.

    "Martha?"

   He switched on his beside lamp. When he saw her , his first impulse was to scream. But he remained silent.  He wasn't sure he could scream. She stood just within the doorway , her hands concealed behind her back , as she had in the dream. Bert knew what she was hiding. But it wasn't that she was concealing an ax that troubled him. Bert could deal with the fact that she wanted to split his head open. And it wasn't that she was naked. He could deal with that , too - under normal circumstances.
    What Bert could not deal with , were the small , disgusting  insect like creatures that crawled upon her skin , which had rotted through to the bone in several places. He could see their mandibles tearing off chunks of her flesh ,  and burrowing into her skin - which Martha did not seem to mind , or even notice. 
    "I can forgive you for destroying my tunies , Bert ," she said. "But not for killing me."
   "Oh , God!" he whispered. He wanted to beg forgiveness. Instead , he closed his eyes and waited for the blow that would split his head in two.
    He didn't have long to wait.

 

 
 

Mom And Dad

    I don't know what caused my parents to 'change'. All I know , is that one Saturday morning when I was seventeen , they had gone shopping - as they had every weekend for as long as I could remember - and when they returned , they were not the same. Before , they had been ... well , my parents. I loved them despite their many flaws. Now , they were strangers to me.

 
   I first noticed the odd behavior in mom. She was putting canned goods into the cupboard above the kitchen sink. I was drawing at the table. Drawing was one of my favorite things to do. The only thing I liked to draw in those days were pictures of Jesus.
   Out of nowhere , mom said , "We need to get rid of the cat. He needs to be incinerated."

 
   She paused a moment , as if to consider it. "Yeah , that's what we'll do."

 
   I stopped working on my drawing and gaped at her. Dad was standing a few feet away from me , taking items out of a grocery bag. He too paused to look at her. I thought he would be as shocked as I was , but he wasn't.

 
   He said ,"OK. But we can't incinerate him without an incinerator. We can shoot him."

   "That would be too messy."

   "I could drown him."

 
   Mom considered it , then shook her head. "Not bad. But it wouldn't be as much fun as hearing him scream."

   "I could chop him with the ax."

   "Too messy."

 
   "Stomp his head?"

 
   "No."

 
   "Strangle him?"

 
   "No!" Mom shouted.

 
   "Well , we can't incinerate him without an incinerator!" Dad shouted back.

    Mom glared at him. "I'll think of something!"

   I couldn't believe what I was hearing. All I could do was gawk stupidly at them while they argued about which was the best way to kill the cat. The cat that had been a beloved family pet since I was ten or eleven years old.

  "I know what we'll do!" Mom said. "We'll boil him and make stew out of him. We haven't had stew in years."

  I'd heard enough. "What the hell is wrong with you!? Are you  insane? You love that cat!"

  "Oh , of course we do , dear! And we'll love him even more after we've made stew out of him!" She grinned and licked her lips , as if she couldn't wait to get started.

  "Go get the cat!" she said to dad.

  "No body's  touching that cat!" I grabbed dad by an arm , but he turned quickly , shook off my hand and back handed me across the jaw. I went down hard , but felt nothing ; it happened so fast.

  Leaning over me , he said ,"Unless you too want to be made into stew , don't interfere again."

  I couldn't believe it ; dad had never struck me before. I saw neither anger , or remorse in his eyes , only indifference , as if he didn't care what I did.

  I hesitated , considering whether I might possibly over power them , and prevent them from killing the cat. But after being struck , I knew it would not be wise to antagonize them farther. There  was madness in their eyes , and whatever was the cause of  their disturbing behavior , I wanted nothing to do with it. All I wanted to do , was get away from them , so I ran to my room and slammed the door behind me.

  I was afraid that dad would chase after me , and force the door open , as he had on occasion when I had fought with mom. But when nothing happened , I threw myself on the bed and cried until I couldn't cry anymore. I wasn't crying because I had been struck. I was crying because my parents were total strangers to me , and I wanted them back.

  And I was crying for an innocent , helpless cat that would soon be made into stew!

  A few minutes later , the door flew open and banged against the wall. Dad raised his shot gun and pointed it at me. Mom stood behind him , smiling , her hands hidden behind her back. I knew she was hiding something , even though I couldn't see it.

  Dad said ,"You have two choices. You can join us , or not join us. If you choose not to , you die."

  He cocked the shot gun for emphasis. Again , all I saw in his eyes , was indifference.

  "No! You can't shoot him!" Mom said. For a moment , she smiled so sweetly and lovingly , that I thought there might be hope for them. But then , she raised her hands over her head , revealing what she had been hiding.

   It was an ax.

  "Let me chop him to a million pieces , and then we can have cat /Sam stew!"

   I wanted to cry again. But I didn't want to show weakness in front of them. This woman had given birth to me , had stayed up by my side until I fell back to sleep again , whenever a nightmare woke me. And now she wanted to murder me? I never would have believed it in my worst nightmare.

   An idea came to me. I hesitated for only a moment , but a moment was all I had. The bedroom window was open , letting in a cool breeze. It was late in the evening , just minutes from sunset.

  With a gleeful grin on mom's face , her and dad came into the room. Dad aimed the shot gun right at my head , and mom raised the ax even higher.

  "It's time for cat/Sam stew!" she said. A bit of saliva dribbled down her chin. "And I'm so hungry!"

   I made my move then. I turned , took three steps , and dived for the open window , knocking off the fly screen. At the same time , there was a deafening blast , and half of one side of the window frame was blown out.

  I must have blacked out when I hit the ground. I came to in my bed. Mom was sitting on the edge , smiling down at me , the very same way she used to when a bad dream woke me. 

 "I just had the strangest dream ," I said. "I dreamed you and dad were going to make stew out of me and the cat. Isn't that weird?"

  "Yes , it is ," she said. "But it wasn't a dream , dear."

  "What?"

  From somewhere in the house , Winston screamed. Mom reached down beside the bed and picked up the ax off the floor. I shoved her against the wall , and shot up off the bed. As she struggled to get up , I quickly stuffed a few shirts and pants into a duffel bag. However , before I could zip it shut , she was back on her feet , reaching once again for the ax. 

  "That wasn't very nice of you , dear ," she said , obviously flustered at my unwillingness to let her make stew out of me. "Just where do you think you're going? Do you think you can get away?"

  She raised the ax above her head. "Please don't make this more difficult than it already is , dear. Just close your eyes and it will all be over before you know it."

 I had no intention of letting her split my head open. I slammed her back into the wall , this time much harder. This time she did not get up. She lay there , moaning in pain. I felt a momentary pang of guilt. Had I broken her back? I wasn't sticking around to find out.

  I snatched up the bag and headed for the front door.  I was terrified of running into dad. But , he was nowhere in sight. The house was now deathly quiet ; I could no longer hear mom moaning in pain. All I could hear was my own labored breathing. I wondered if dad was hiding nearby , waiting to prevent me from reaching the door. I eyed every corner cautiously before I passed it , and every possible place he might be lurking.

   Finally , I reached the door without running into dad. It was locked , bolted , and chained. My hands were shaking so badly that it seemed to take forever to unlock it , and slide back the chain. Then I yanked it open , and stumbled down the steps on legs that felt like rubber , and ran down the road.

   Behind me , Winston screamed again.
   

   

White Noise

  "Pete , I told you to turn the television off before coming to bed."

  "I turned it off!"

  "Then what is that I hear?"

  You're big mouth! he wanted to say. Grumbling under his breath , Pete sat up on the edge of the bed , switched on his night stand lamp , and eased his feet into his slippers. "Son of a bitch!" he muttered.
  "What was that , Pete?"

  "Nothing ," he said. He shuffled to the door and listened. "I don't hear a thing."

  "If you bothered to clean your ears out once in a while , maybe you would hear something."

  "Are you implying that I'm deaf?"

  "I'm saying that you never listen to anything I say ," Sally said. "All you do is sit in front of that television , belching , farting , and drinking beer. And whenever I ask you to do anything , it goes in one ear and out the other. Either that , or you pretend to be asleep when I want you to do something.
   "Now , are you going to turn the television off , or are you going to stand there looking like an idiot?"
   Pete hadn't realized that he had been looking like an idiot , or that  his mouth had been hanging open the whole time. He quickly shut it , and shuffled through the door.  When he got to the bottom of the stairs , he could hear the faint hiss of static coming from the television. The volume was so low , he could barely hear it. He wondered how Sally could hear it. That woman must have hearing like a dog.
   The room was awash in a ghostly blue light. He stood in front of the television , staring at the screen , imagining that he was seeing patterns in the snow.
   "I know I turned it off ," he said. The remote was on the seat of his favorite arm chair. Pete reached for it , but hesitated. There came a faint sound in the darkness. It was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He thought that Sally was coming down to see what was taking him so long , but when he looked  toward the stairs , she was not there.
   "Hello? Is someone in here?"
   When he spoke the footsteps ceased. He picked up the remote .... and heard the sound again. Footsteps on the stairs. But there was no one there! What the hell was going on? Was someone playing a practical joke on him? Was it Rollo? Rollo was his next door neighbor. Pete knew that Rollo liked to play jokes , because Pete had  too often been the butt of his jokes. But Rollo had never staged anything this elaborate.
   "Rollo , is that you?" As soon as Pete spoke , the footsteps ceased abruptly again. Jesus! He was starting to get spooked. "How did you get in here , Rollo?  Did Sally give you the key?"
   If it was Rollo , how was he doing it? How was he making the footsteps on the stairs sounds? And where was he hiding?
   "Alright , you son of a bitch! You better show yourself now , before I lose my temper! You hear me , Rollo?"
   A faint sound of laughter , so faint he had barely heard it. Pete whirled toward the television , his heart racing. He stared into the snowy pattern. It felt as if every hair on his body was standing up. He knew that was where the laughter had come from. The television. But how?
   He felt around the back of the set , thinking maybe Rollo had placed some kind of transmitting devise there. But there was nothing. He looked back at the screen. The snowy patterns mesmerized him. He imagined he could see faint images , figures moving among the snow. Faces. People laughing. People crying. Eyes widening in terror. Eyes frowning with hatred. Eyes as deep and black as a fathomless pit.
   And then he heard the voice.
   It was not Rollo's voice. It was a voice that no human ears had ever head.... until now. It was neither male nor female , a voice as timeless as time itself.
  "I need ," it said. "I neeeed! I neeeeeeeed! I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed!"
  Pete stared at the television , unable to comprehend what he was hearing. He was mesmerized not only by the images he was seeing , but the voice was even more hypnotic. It drew him toward the screen , like a moth is drawn to a bright light. Inch by inch , his face drew closer , until his nose was pressed up against it. Then a ghostly hand emerged from the screen , and wrapped itself around his throat. Pete struggled to dislodge the hand , but his efforts to free himself were weak. The hand was like a vise around his throat. He was unable to utter a sound.
  Slowly , the hand pulled him through the screen. Pete passed through as easily as if he were passing through water.

  Sally came down the stairs a few minutes later. "Damn it  , Pete! I told you to turn the Television off! Is that too much to ask?"
  She stopped in front of the television. "Pete? Pete!! I'm not playing games with you , Pete! I'm going back to bed. Are you coming , or are you going play your childish games?"
  She looked at the screen. For a moment she thought she could see images moving among the snowy patterns. Then she picked up the remote and turned it off.
  
 
 










  

















  

A Monster Ate My Sandwich

  "Tell me a scary story , Ricky ," Timmy said.

    "I'm not telling you a story. Go to sleep."

  "I don't want to go to sleep. I want a story."
    "I said no. Now shut up and go to sleep."
  "I will if you tell me a story."

    "Yeah , right. How many times have I heard that? A million times. Now shut the fuck up and go... to... sleep!"

  "If I don't get a story , I'll wake up Dad and tell him you said the f word."

  "You better not you little freak ," Ricky said ,"or I'll pound you!"

  "Then tell me a story!" Timmy pulled back his covers and made like he was getting out of bed. "Make up your mind. Story , or tell Dad you said the f word?"

  "Alright , you little freak! I'll tell you a story , then you better go to sleep , or I really will pound you!"
  "I will. I promise."

  Ricky sighed wearily and turned over onto his back. If he didn't tell him a story , the little brat would have him up all night. Staring up at the ceiling , he said ,"This is a story about an annoying little booger boy who believed in ghosts and monsters. In the middle of the night the booger went downstairs for a midnight snack , and a monster came out of the closet and ate his sandwich. And then it ate him. The end. Now go to sleep."

  "Hey! That's not a story! I want a real story!"
  "It's the only one you're getting. Now shut up , or so help me God , I'll pound you!
  "I can't go to sleep yet!"
  "Why not?"

  "You have to look under my bed and make sure a monster's not hiding there."

  "I'm not looking under your bed!"
  "I guess I'll have to tell Dad what you said , then."

  "Alright!" Ricky got down on hands and knees and looked under Timmy's bed. Even though it was too dark to see anything , he was sure there were no monsters hiding under it.

  "See anything?"

  "No , there's no mon ~" Ricky's eyes suddenly widened , and he was pulled under the bed. "Help me , Timmy! Somethings got me!"

  Whimpering in fright , Timmy pulled the covers over his head , not daring to look , lest the monster get him , too.

  After a moment of silence , Timmy said ,"Ricky? Please don't be dead!" When he finally peeked out from under the covers , Ricky jumped up from the side of the bed , laughing.

 "That wasn't funny , Ricky!"
  "Yes it was. And you had it coming. Now go to sleep."
  "No! Not until you look in the closet!"
  "You said if I looked under the bed you would go to sleep. You promised."
  "Oh , Daaaa ~ aaad!"
  "Alright , you little snot , but this better be it!"
  Ricky approached the closet and placed a hand on the door knob. Timmy said ,"Do you believe in monsters , Ricky?"
  "Of course not."
  "Why not?"
 "Only babies believe in monsters."
  "But they eat you if you don't believe in them."
  "Who told you that? One of your baby friends?"

  Ricky grasped the door knob ... and yanked it open , revealing nothing but darkness inside. Timmy thought that he might pull another stunt , but Ricky turned and said ,"Are  you fucking satisfied now?"
  Timmy's eyes widened , and he let out a scream , pulling  the covers over his head : a large , unusually hairy and gnarled hand  had shot out of the darkness , grabbed Ricky by the back of the neck , and pulled him into the closet.

  He had no time to scream.

  The closet door slowly began to shut.

  From within the darkness , there were horrible crunching sounds , and a deep , guttural voice said , "Soooo goooood."

  A small pool of blood appeared from under the door.

  "They eat you if you don't believe in them ," Timmy said , and laid down to go to sleep.

 

 

Falling Rain

    He woke to the sound of falling rain.  He lay there , not wanting to get up , letting it sooth him , as it did when he was a boy. It was after midnight. All was quiet , but for the rain , and the white noise static of the television , which cast a ghostly blue light. He switched it off and headed upstairs to check on his daughter before getting into bed.  Lauren was fast asleep , a smile on her cherubic face.

    In his own room across the hall , Frank slid quietly into bed , trying not to disturb Sue. But almost immediately he noticed that she was not there. He pulled back the covers and felt her side of the bed. It was still warm. And a hint of her perfume lingered in the air. He smiled.

    He went back down stairs , calling her name softly , despite the steady drone of the rain. He eased open the kitchen door , and was startled by a sudden flash of lightning and a deafening blast of thunder. In the brief illumination , he glimpsed a silhouette seated at the table.

    "Sue , is that you?"
   No answer. Frank hesitated a moment before placing a hand on her shoulder. She flinched slightly at his touch ; her skin felt clammy. 
    "What are you doing sitting here in the dark?"

    When she didn't answer , he said ,"Do you mind if I turn on the light?"
    "No, leave it off!" she whispered urgently. "Please!"

     "Why? Sue , what's wrong?"

    "I don't want you to see me like this."

    "Like what? What are you talking about?"

    There was another flash , followed by more thunder , but this time , in its  light , Frank saw something he refused to believe. For a few seconds he thought that ... no , he could not have seen what he thought he had seen. It must have been a trick of light and shadow. Slowly , he reached for the light switch ... and flicked it on. His eyes widened and he cried out , stumbling backward through the door and into the living room. He landed hard on his back , not daring to take his eyes off the swinging door , waiting for Sue to come out.

    After a few seconds , the light was switched off , and she came out. "I told you to leave it off Frank!" she hissed. "I told you to leave it off! Why didn't you listen?"

   When he switched on the light , Frank had seen something that would disturb his dreams the rest of his days : Sue's entire face had been missing.

   She reached for him - to embrace him , or to punish him for not listening to her , Frank was uncertain - hissing repeatedly , "Why didn't you to leave it off!"

   For a brief moment , he wondered how she could speak with no face , and then he was scrambling up off the floor , and up the stairs for Lauren's room , shouting her name. The girl stood in the door way. Frank nearly ran into her , knocking her over.

    He didn't have to turn on a light to know that her face was also gone.

    He ran back down the stairs , losing his footing on the third step ,  tumbling the rest of the way. But he was unhurt. He picked himself off the floor , and stumbled to the door.

   "You can't get away , daddy!" Lauren said from the top of the stairway. Frank froze. How could she talk with no face!?
    "It wants you , too!"

    Before Frank could reach the door , it blew open , letting in a sudden blast of wind and rain. Something monstrous stood in the doorway. Something that caused all of the saliva in his mouth to dry up , and his bladder to loosen. Even in the intermittent flashes of lightning , Frank could see that it had no real discernible shape. It seemed to be nothing more than an amorphous mass of stinking , pulsating flesh.

   Before Frank could scream , the thing latched onto his face and began feeding.