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.