Little Nightmares

Witch in Town

We took what we wanted whenever we wanted. Death came easily, followed by lust and deceit. We’d laugh and drink wine and ale, proudly boasting of our endeavors. At night we’d dance skyclad, worshiping our gods and deities with pure devotion. We never remembered yesterday or dreamed of tomorrow. We lived in the now and those were good times.

Now as I stand amongst them; as the last of my kind. I see their eyes filled with fear and hate. I see their children quail behind their mothers’ skirts. The Fathers spit and curse, hoping to snuff out this evil from their land.

I leave town with my “spices” and “pouches” as I can smell the burning stench of the poor maiden accused of my….lifestyle.

The Little Ball Player

“Follow the creek.” A voice said. Clarence turned quickly and fell backward to the ground, startled by an older adult.

“Are you lost, son?”

“Yes Sir,” Clarence said. “ I lost my baseball and then got turned around.”

“That’s okay, son. I know the way back.” The man replied.

They followed the creek, reaching a clearing that led to an old farm. Clarence was flooded with relief when he saw the old windmill. This meant that his house was just down the road.

He thanked the old man and bid him farewell.

“See you soon my son,” The old man said as he waved goodbye and returned to the woods.

Clarence reached his house and started up the stairs. His head was still aching from falling off his bike.

“Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad. I know I’m late but I can explain,” Clarence said as he entered the house and closed the door. He expected a lecture from his mom and prepared for punishment.

But instead, Clarence was met with tears and screams. His parents were devastated; his mother was on her knees weeping to the ground. Clarence watched in fright as his father was still holding his son’s dead body on the floor.

Caution

The heavy rain pummels Terry’s windshield as he glides down the interstate. He has the heat on full blast, keeping his cabinet nice and toasty from the cold air. His eyes are heavy and his back is wound up tight like an old clock. A fifteen-hour shift can be hard on a man, but it's worth it if the money is right.

Terry is only three miles away from home when something crosses the road. He can’t make it out but all he knows is that it’s big and it’s not moving.

Terry slams on his air brakes hard; the tires screech and slide on the slippery pavement. He felt a hard bump and feared the worse. Did he hit it? Terry got out of the truck with his flashlight and saw nothing. There was no blood, no carcass; not a thing,

Terry started back to his truck when he heard a loud shriek in the distance. He beamed his flashlight in the dark field and that’s when he saw it. A creature not of this world. It stood high in the field, staring back at him. Terry was frozen in place. He finally told himself to move and ran back into his truck.

Suddenly there was a big blue light in the sky and just like that Terry was gone.

Dinner Time

“But Steve, don’t you want to know who your neighbors are?” Julia asked.

“No,” Steve said. “ I don’t care and neither should you.

“But there’s something very strange about them. I think I’ll head over to say hi.”

Steve ignored his wife’s gesture and finished his third beer as she made a small welcoming basket and headed out the door. It was hours later when Steve awoke to a dark house.

“Julia?” Steve called. But she wasn’t there. Perhaps she had become buddies with the new neighbors and lost track of time as usual.

Steve crossed the quiet street and rang the doorbell. A tall blonde opened the door with a wide smile.

“You must be Steve. Hi, I’m Joyce and this is Tom. ” She extended her hand which Steve shook reluctantly.

“Nice to meet you. I’m sorry to disturb you but-

“You’re looking for Julia. I believe she stepped out. We were just about to have dinner. Would you like to join us?” Joyce asked.

“Um, sure,” Steve said.

He sat down at the table and scooted up his seat. Joyce placed down the covered plate in front of him.

“Are you guys not eating?” Steve asked.

Joyce and Tom laughed loudly, sipping their wine.

“No, silly. We already had your wife for lunch.”

Perfect Lovers

I’ve never been so in love. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. There are so many things about her that I think about every day. I love the way her hair lays in the morning, long auburn locks glowing in the rising sun. She cooks her eggs one by one, softly scrambled with a dash of hot sauce, complete with turkey bacon and fresh fruit. She takes a morning jog around the local, a few laps give or take, just a few hours before she has to head to work.

She sings in the shower (so cute) jamming out to her favorite 80s tunes, reliving some of her high school days. I listen to her belt out the notes, as the smell of her citrus shampoo fills the air. She is so funny, telling her best jokes at parties while out with friends. At dinner, she always orders red wine on ice, stating that it softens the taste.

At night, she sleeps on her stomach, letting a smooth-shaven leg hang out from under the covers. Sometimes I watch her sleep, careful not to wake her from her perfect dreams. She’s beautiful, smart and one in a million. Perhaps one day, I’ll introduce myself.

Nurse

Kayla dashed up the stairs, passing a long hallway. Mrs. Williams was wailing in pain, her legs twisting like taffy. Kayla reached for the woman, attempting to pull her off the floor. Williams clutched her heart with her feeble hands, her eyes bulging out while she gasped for air. Her body is thin but solid. Kayla struggles as she tries to get Williams back in her bed.

"Mrs. Williams, what can I do?" Kayla asked.

The woman tugged the nurse close to her and whispered in her ear.

"Make her stop!" Williams said.

Kayla looked in the doorway to see the granddaughter twisting a paper doll.

Campground

It's just before midnight when he sneaks away. He braces for the change as the night calls to him like a forbidden lover. The flowing river catches the reflection of a luminous globe in the sky. He feels it, crawling inside his body like a parasite.

His skin is ablaze like he swallowed hot coals and now they’re scorching his insides. His bones bend and break like winter twigs on a snowy day. His teeth protrude to fangs; his hands become claws. His eyes pierce the night as massive hair grows on him. After a few moments of pain, his transformation is complete.

He is no longer a man but a beast of nature driven by hunger and rage. He stalks the night in search of prey to satisfy his insatiable appetite. He finds a clearing full of delectable subjects.

Hopefully, the boy scouts are fast runners.

Hide and Seek

She pushed it into the attic, bolting the door shut. It clawed at the cherrywood, wailing in defeat. She headed downstairs, retrieving a cloth to clean the blood from her eyes. Her back was shredded like wheat, a crimson discoloration on her blouse.

She ran for the phone, her fingers fumbling over the digits. She required aid, wishing to reach someone on the receiver yet there was no response. The line was detached, leaving her powerless. She dragged her left leg, leaving a trail to the kitchen. She needed a weapon, something to defend herself from this hellish thing.

The lights flicker and the ceiling rumbles. She hears it rushing about upstairs, searching for an escape. There’s a loud bang and everything goes dark.

She holds the knife steady, prepared to strike. The attic door wedges open, creaking in the quiet house. She hears the footsteps, scaling the staircase, and speeding toward the kitchen. Her heart is beating fast, her body is trembling with dread.

It sneaks up from behind, stabbing her in the back with a sharp object. She screams in agony and tumbles to the floor. She now lays in a pool of blood as she can see its smile in the moonlight. It points and chuckles at her in triumph, simply replying.

"Tag, Mommy. You're it!"

Delivery

Mickey peered his eyes toward a living room. There he saw a woman with a gray sweater and white hair. She stood in front of the fireplace, casting an elevated shadow on the fancy walls.

"Hi, I'm Mickey. I'm delivering the groceries that you ordered."

"Very nice to meet you, Mickey. You may put them on the kitchen counter. If you don't mind, I'd like to check them first. " The woman expressed.

"Yes, of course. " Mickey said.

The woman shuffled across the room, following Mickey into the kitchen. Her wilted hands scanned the items in the bag, making sure nothing was absent.

"Does everything look okay?" Mickey inquired.

"I believe so, although there is one more thing I require." She conveyed.

"And what is that?"

"Your blood." The withered mistress exposed her fangs, attacking Mickey with savage power.

Reservation

I despised blind dates. It was a frantic excuse of matchmaking: also a disaster in the works. What if he was weird? What if he was ugly? What if he thought I was weird and ugly? Such countless scenarios, such countless worries. It generally gave me butterflies, and not the good kind.

I got to the restaurant twenty minutes early to see what I was in for. He pulled up a few minutes later, dubbed in a suit and tie. He was tall, dark, and handsome, which scored some definite points for me. I met him inside and he kissed my hand, an actual prince charming.

Dinner went well; we laughed and joked and he ordered the best wine. He walked me to my car and I gave him a goodnight kiss. He stated that his apartment was a few blocks away. Regretfully I declined his invitation. Luckily for him, I never kill a man on the first date.

In My Head

How did I get here? I ask myself. The question weighs heavily on my mind as I saw through the skin and bone of my latest victim. Did Mom and Dad love me enough? Of course, they did. Did I get picked on in school? Certainly not. Matter of fact, I was the valedictorian and very popular in high school.

So what brought me to this sadistic nature? Who knows. Maybe I'm a hopeless romantic who's had her heart broken one too many times. Perhaps I was just a jealous ex-girlfriend who believed "what's mine is mine and no one else's." Then again I could be the girl next door who just so happens to settle her scores with an ax. Three is a crowd when it’s inside your head.

The Contract

I stand there in the cold, waiting for him. The wind cuts through me like a hot knife through butter. I pull my jacket near my body, attempting to shield the icy crystals from my skin. Hours skip by, and I am an icicle. I leave, discouraged, returning to my car and heading home.

I get to the hotel and fall back on the comfy bed. I flip over, hearing the mattress squeak from my weight. The fresh sheets warm my frost-bitten face while I gather them underneath my chin.

My eyes are closed when the scent of cigar smoke touches my nostrils. I see a man staring back at me, sporting a silk suit.

He hands me the contract, and I sign it. My blood-soaked name stains the parcel as he folds the contract and shakes my hand.

Roommate

We invited her over for a game night, which was a big mistake. She seemed like an okay girl, so I returned the courtesy. She moved in a week later, and everything turned sour. She was an awful roommate, always messy and rude.

I’d make the bed, and she’d destroy it; I clean the dishes, and she would just dirty them up. She’d do weird things like stalk the halls at night, open the curtains, and tap on the glass windows.

She never slept except during the day, and she was always talking. My cat hated her, and she was always bothering my dog with her presence. He’d bark and growl, refusing to come inside when she was home. One day he mistook me for her and bit me! But I didn’t blame him at all! I blamed her! She was a nightmare!

The last straw was when I came home from work and the whole house was a complete mess. I had told her last night that I wanted her out and she lost it! We argued for hours until she gave up and flew upstairs, slamming the door in my face. I felt sorry for her but it had to be done.

I should’ve listened to my parents, ouija boards should never be played with.

Car Wash

Jake had a long night ahead of him. It was New Year’s Eve after all and he was a cab driver in the most active city of New York. He clocked in at 5:30 pm and right away his boss dispatched him his first fare.

College kids are looking to get plastered at some new club in Brooklyn. They weren’t so bad, a little clangorous but nothing much else to complain about. They kept to themselves and even gave Jake a tip when he dropped them off.

Around 7:15, Jake picked up a fare that was far from perfect. A tipsy party girl and her stoned-out boyfriend, looking to kick someone's brains in if they so much as made a pass at his babe. Twenty minutes later, Jake dropped them off at a hotel, glad to chuck them from his cab. He drove off in disdain as he watched the couple stumble up the steps.

It was around 9, and Jake decided to grab a bite to eat. He sat at the dinner counter, scoffing down a thick slice of pepperoni pizza. He was driving by Madison Square Garden when he heard his boss on the dispatch. This would be his last fare which was about ten minutes from the police station.

Jake took a right and ended up in a dark alley. It led to the back of an apartment complex, the fire escapes were rusty the windows were tinted black, with broken glass. . Jake felt uneasy as he placed the car in park, and pulled out a cigarette from his breast pocket. He inhaled a deep puff, expelling the smoke into the crisp night air.

Jake was preoccupied, he didn’t notice a tall man entering the backseat, and slamming the door. Jake jumped, proceeding to inquire about him.

“Where to sir?”

“Hospital, I left something behind” the tall man replied.

Jake did as he was told, exiting the alley. During the drive, he noticed a weird smell, permeating from the passenger, like fresh dirt and old pennies. He drove on without saying a word, praying to reach the destination sooner.

Jake was just a few blocks away when stopped at the traffic light. He waited as the light took forever to change.

“Mind if I smoke,” the tall man said.

“Sure, no problem” Jake replied.

The tall man pulled a cigar from his coat pocket and lit the match.

Jake glanced in the mirror just in time to notice, that he was missing his head.

Makeup

I stroll into the mall, dead on my feet, in search of a new dress. I gradually pass the windows, not impressed with what’s on display. Everything looks the same, old and boring, with not a hint of color. I ask for assistance but they flee, apparently too busy to help me pick out a new outfit.

I pull one off the rack and it looks gorgeous! It’s baby blue or pink. Who knows? I grab a few and mosey on. I place my items on the counter and pay. I tell the cashier to have a nice day, but she looks at me in fright, ignores my gesture, and dashes to the back.

I reach the makeup department and stay there for a while. I try on just a few products, lipstick, foundations, mascara, the works. The foundation feels heavy, like cement, and eyeshadow. rolls off my eyes. I test out a few concealers but still get nothing. I guess undead skin is a hard color to match.

Partnerships

Business is very hard these days, especially for someone like me. I’ve never been much of a day person so I travel at night, advertising my talents to potential subjects, hoping to get some recognition. But I never seem to get it right. I don’t have much of an audience anymore. Many have outgrown me while others don’t even know I exist.

There are some occasions where my name is mentioned, but only as a joke. There is no seriousness in my profession anymore. I’ve tried different approaches, like curtain tricks and mirror writing but I tend to be mistaken as the “others” and of course, they get all the credit, leaving me in the shadows. It makes me so mad!

But thankfully, as of late, I’ve started a partnership with a few companies that are destined to bring in some good business for me again. They are very well known in the movie business and very persuasive. They have produced some amazing works of art and they tend to attract a young audience, which is very beneficial for me. Now things are as they were, bed checking and closet phobia.

It’s official to say the “Boogeyman” is back, and business has never been better.

Shadow

Sam gazed at the brick wall of the interrogation room. His hands were clammy and his eyes red and teary from the trauma of the incident. He had known his best friend Mark for nearly twelve years and now, he was gone.

Despite the cool air in the room, it did nothing to dry the stickiness of the bloody shirt that scratched Sam’s chest. Hours pass and Sam is threatened, judged, and penalized by anyone with a badge. He’s pushed to confess his heinous crime and face the third degree. But no matter what’s thrown at him, Sam doesn’t budge. He knows the truth, he knows what he saw.

It came from the darkness, conjured up by black magic. Mark summoned it in demand but was betrayed by his wishes. His desires sealed his fate as this thing devoured him whole, tearing his body limb from limb. He screamed in agony, Sam watching in horror as his friend’s life was extinguished by the shadow. The last thing he remembered was waking up, handcuffed in a police car. He had been framed and there was nothing he could do.

Thirteen years served, and now Sam faces execution. He paces in his cell, awaiting his last meal. Fear is in his heart, and there is a voice in his head. It appears as Sam’s lawyer, promising freedom. He just has to make a wish.

Phobia

Angelica’s heart beat rapidly in her chest as she poorly navigated her way through the darkness. A breathy gasp was expelled from her throat and her cries became louder with each step she took. Her legs were like noodles, shuffling one foot in front of the other, praying to find a way out. She feared what lurked in the black void around her, afraid of the cringing whispers that plagued her ears.

She feels around in the basement, bumping into a wooden shelf. She calls out for help, pleading for her family to save her from herself. She knows she’s inches away from the staircase. If only she could reach it and be home free. It’s dead silent when she hears the creaking of footsteps on the wooden panels. Angelica, frightened, freezes in place. A lightning bolt illuminates the basement window, making out a tall, manly figure.

Angelica screams, forcing her legs to move toward the stairs. The footsteps come closer as the figure reaches out to grab her. There's a piece of broken glass on one of the stairs, which had to have been from the vase that Angelica dropped when the lights went out. Without hesitation, she picks up the shard and swings. Warm liquid splashes upon Angelica, the figure falling to the ground. The lights come back on and Angelica screams a blood-curdling shriek. Her father lies still on the basement floor.