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.