The Devil’s Perfume

January 11, 2015 at 12:00 AM
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 7.8/10 (744 votes cast)

Growing up in the south, in a pretty religious family, folklore is always around. Being Mexican to boot, these stories were always a constant reminder to be a good child. My grandfather believed in this, wholeheartedly. He loved telling us that if we didn’t behave El Cucuy was coming to get us.

El Cucuy was the boogie man. Just like La Llorona was a woman who wept to lure children to the river to drown them as she had done to her own children. How were these age appropriate stories? My grandfather insisted that he saw La Lechusa – a witch turned into a large white owl – roaming in the backyard once.

I started to keep track of when he mentioned one of these names. If my cousins and I were too loud, El Cucuy was coming. If we ran around outside, Le Lechusa would take us away.

In my grandfather’s last few years of life, he never spoke of any of these ghastly creatures anymore. Albeit, we were older and less noisy around him. We would laugh as we’d recall him yelling at us, all the while my grandfather remained silent. Before his health started to decline, he would speak in hushed whispers about things… things that scared him.

What I remember most during his last year was that he was always afraid of the dark. He spent his nights pacing the house. He would call relatives at 3 – 4 am to see what they were doing. Like clockwork, he called my parents house.

3 am phone call. 4 am phone call.

One morning in the summer he didn’t call. He didn’t call because he said he smelled something. The story he told my grandma is one that is hard to believe…

He was walking the house, making his rounds. A slight shuffle in his house slippers over the tiled floor. Ssst ssst ssst ssst. He never really picked up his feet. Ssst ssst ssst ssst. He was moving from the kitchen dining area to the front living room. Sometimes when the street light is on, you can see the street from one side of his yard to the other. Cars lining the streets in front of houses where people were sleeping. All but one person.. or so he thought.
He heard something he wasn’t sure of. Was it talking or mumbling? Maybe it was humming? No one should be awake at this hour. My grandfather shuffled to the front door. That’s when he saw… Her.

A woman, dressed in dark clothing, walking down the middle of the street.

Ever curious, my grandfather opened the door. He stood behind the screen door in silence as the wind picked up and he smelled it.

In an instant, he smelled something foul. A wall of sulfur. And just like that, it was gone, leaving only a lingering smell of roses. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move. Then She turned to him.

An old woman, small in stature, with no real facial features he could recall. A darkness covering her face although she was within the beam of the street light. She was wearing a black veil, lacey, framing her oval shaped face. She looked right at him as she tried to get near. Her feet shuffling toward the edge of his driveway.

Ssst ssst ssst ssst.

Immobile with fear, my grandfather stood at the door, the smell of roses growing stronger as She approached. Her face beginning to compose features. Eyes, dark and set deep under her brow. Small mute mouth. Sunken cheeks that seemed to tug her face even more into an oval shape. Too elongated to be real.

As She approached the driveway, She stopped. The humming was back. Was she talking? Was she singing to him? My grandfather watched as She tried to step onto his property. She struggled. Something was preventing her from walking up the driveway.

Seemingly forced to remain on the street, She stopped humming. Her face was that black hole. The eyes… were they glowing? Was the jaw that far stretched down into a snarled howl shape?

The sulfur smell was back. She, this creature, was unable to cross over onto my grandfathers property. And with a screech, She moved back into the middle of the street

Ssst ssst ssst ssst.

This creature began its humming down the street, seeming to vanish in the darkness that went beyond where the light street could reach.

This went on, every early morning, for several weeks.

My grandfather never told a soul the first few nights. Who would believe him that he saw the Devil in the street at 3 am? The sulfur rose smell lingering in his nostrils so much that he began to overly use his nasal spray. He used these menthol inhalers, one every month. After his visitor’s appearance, he was using one a week until he was placed into ICU on his deathbed.

That holiday season, my aunt saw a woman, walking the streets at night when she went to the kitchen for water. She heard a song that she didn’t understand, with the smell of roses. When she approached the door, the woman stood at the driveway and sulfur stained the air. My aunt was too afraid to get any closer to the door and went back to her bedroom.

February of 2009, my grandfather laid with monitors hooked up to him. Delirious from pain medications and his body deteriorating, he began to say he could smell the Devil’s perfume. He was adamant of that rosy sulfur smell in the air. That She went roaming the streets, singing to people to take; sings to them to walk out of their homes. He said the creature would come out of the walls at the foot of his bed in ICU to visit.

This was the first time my aunt heard of someone else speaking of the woman walking the streets, smelling the roses and sulfur. This was the first time something this far-fetched was ever uttered aloud within the family. Everything was always some folklore story. But this? This happened to two different family members.

March of 2009, my grandfather passed away. I had to fly in thinking I wasn’t able to say goodbye, but he held on for me. When I heard the stories of this Devil in disguise, I shrugged it off with a smirk.

‘Oh right, like that *really* happened? Pfft!’

‘No, it’s for real, I saw it…’ My aunt loved to exaggerate but the look in her eyes made me skeptical.

That night, I dreamt of the story, as if I was there. I could smell the roses, the sulfur. I saw this small, frail woman walking the street under the street light. When she turned to me in my dream, her face was a black void.

At my grandfather’s funeral, the priest spoke of life and how in death we’re reunited with our loved ones and are at peace. I couldn’t shake that feeling of my dream. At the cemetery, by a crooked mesquite tree off in the distance, there was a woman. Small in stature, skinny….

Where were her feet?

Was she looking at me…. How? I couldn’t see her face…. It was broad daylight and I couldn’t see her face.

I smelled roses.

The wind whipped up and it was warm… and briefly, I smelled it. I smelled the sulfur. There was nothing around but empty fields. Where was this sulfur smell coming from?

I looked around and then back at the tree, but she was gone as was the smell.

Every now and then I hear a sound, like shuffling feet… ssst ssst ssst ssst…. and I smell roses…. ssst ssst ssst ssst…. if I close my eyes, I can see that small figure in black…. ssst ssst ssst ssst…. I open my eyes before She looks at me… ssst ssst ssst ssst….

Is that the Devil’s perfume I smell….?

Credit To – My grandpa, Senor Gonzales

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 7.8/10 (744 votes cast)

Express

January 8, 2015 at 12:00 AM
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 7.6/10 (347 votes cast)

By the time Kevin made his way down into the subway station, there was no one else there but a solitary old man, sitting on a bench, using his cane to help him sit up straight. Kevin squinted at the schedule on the wall. From behind, he heard a grizzled voice say, “Whichever one you’re waiting for, you’re at the right station. They all stop here.”

Kevin turned to see the old man watching him. “Even the A6?” he asked.

“They ALL stop here,” repeated the stranger, who appeared to be dressed far too warmly for the season.

“I can’t believe the A6 stops here this late on a Tuesday.”

“Young man, this station is a major transfer point, and I’ve been taking these trains for many years. Believe me when I tell you, all the trains stop here.”

As if in answer, the sound of an approaching train came from deep within the tunnel. It sounded like it was coming too fast to stop. In fact, it sounded like it was running faster than subways usually do. It was only a moment before it went rushing past. But that wasn’t the shocking part. All the cars were jet black, but it didn’t look like they were painted, just…made that way. Every car was covered in the most indescribably horrific graffiti. Wild splashes of red paint decorated the windows. It was paint, wasn’t it? The lighting inside was very dim. All the passengers were shadowy figures who stood, unmoving. None of them were seated. Kevin couldn’t make out any of their features. So why did he feel like they were watching him?

“What the hell was that?” Kevin demanded as the mysterious black train disappeared into the opposite tunnel.

The old man hung his head, almost in shame. “I’m sorry I wasn’t completely honest with you. There is actually one train that doesn’t stop here. Only one.”

“Where does it go?”

“Pray you never find out.”

Kevin stood in stunned silence before the old man added, “By the way, if you’re taking the A6 you need to be on Platform 3.”

Kevin could barely gasp the word, “Thanks,” before walking quickly away.

As he was leaving, he heard the man call after him, “Also…”

He turned to see the man fixing him with a steely gaze that let Kevin know the stranger was about to give him the most important warning he would ever hear in his life.

“The next time you see that train. It WILL stop. Don’t get on.”

Credit To: E. Alan Rahn

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 7.6/10 (347 votes cast)

I’m No Fool

January 5, 2015 at 12:00 AM
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 7.8/10 (397 votes cast)

“Daddy, there’s a monster in my closet.”

“No, there isn’t,” I reply in my half-asleep state, “we’ve been through this already.”

Now my wife is awake too. “Shouldn’t you at least check? It seems like ever since she got back from the hospital, all those bodies started turning up around the city. There was another one last night. It was in the paper.”

“Yeah, I can’t tell you how broken up I am over all those dead pimps and drug dealers. Somehow, I don’t think whoever’s taking them out is after our kid.”

“Just humor her, please.” She turns to Kayla. “Did you see the monster?”

Kayla nods. “He’s really tall and has long fingers and a big mouth with sharp, shiny teeth. He hides in the closet and peeks around the door. He says he’s coming for me real soon, and his name is Goregrinder.”

Now, I’m pissed. I throw off the covers and jump out of bed.

Susan grabs my arm and leans in close. “Would you please have some patience with her?” she hisses, “My God, she just made a complete recovery from a disease that kills children her age. It’s a miracle we even have her here to inconvenience you in the first place.”

“I know. I’m going already,” I growl back. I storm into her room and turn on the light. Nothing. The closet creaks open slowly. I throw it open. Nothing. Oh wait, I’m doing it wrong. I turn off the light and let the moon illuminate the room. There he is. So tall he would have to duck to come out of the closet. Wearing a coat that covers most of his body. It looks like it’s made of bearskin or something. His arms crossed over his chest, with his wrists bent and his impossibly long fingers pointing downward. Warty skin that looks tougher than leather. A mouth that looks too wide for his head, filled with steely blades for teeth.

I shove him against the wall of the closet and follow him in to make sure my wife and kid can’t hear me. “I already paid you with a fresh one last night, you bastard! You don’t collect her unless I’m at least a week late. That was the deal! You scare my kid one more time and I’ll kick the shit out of you!”

He grins, delighted by my righteous indignation, his mouth stretching extra wide. Even in the dark of the closet, I can see his bladed teeth glistening. He knows I can’t make good on my threat, but he doesn’t scare me either. He’s bound by the same rules I am.

I back out of the closet and he comes after me slowly, grinning defiantly. Whatever. I shut the door in his face. Then, I wait a few seconds and open it again. Gone.

I head back to our bedroom. “Okay, sweetie, the monster’s gone.”

Susan puts a finger to her lips. Kayla is curled up against her, sleeping peacefully, as if she knows how safe she is, and that I’ll do anything to keep her that way. Anything.

Fine. She can stay, but just for tonight. I squeeze into bed next to them, with what little room the girls have left me. I’m still too annoyed to sleep, not just at Goregrinder, but his master. Does he really think I’d sign a contract in my own blood on a parchment made of human skin without reading it first? How stupid does he think I am?

Credit To: E. Alan Rahn

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 7.8/10 (397 votes cast)

Blue Robe

January 4, 2015 at 12:00 AM
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 6.0/10 (375 votes cast)

Long ago, there was a Buddhist priest named Kaian Zenji who always wore a blue robe. He spent his days travelling around Japan, meditating, praying and trying to help those who were in need. One evening, he came to a village called Tomita.

As soon as the people there laid eyes on him, they began shouting and screaming. The women and children fled, screaming and wailing, falling over each other in their rush to get away. The men grabbed their weapons and came running towards him.

“Kill him!” they cried in alarm. “Kill him before he kills us!”

“What’s wrong?” asked Kaian as he put up his hands. “You have no need to fear me. I don’t mean you any harm.”

When the men saw his frightened face, they threw down their weapons and laughed nervously.

“Sorry,” said one man. “We thought you were somebody else.”

“Yes, we apologise for the confusion,” another man said sheepishly.

“It’s because of your blue robe,” said another.

One of the men introduced himself and invited Kaian to stay the night in his house. He said he was the village blacksmith and offered him food and drink.

“When we saw you coming, we thought you were a demon,” he explained.

“Why would you think that?” asked Kaian. “Do I look like a demon?”

“Well, it’s a horrifying story,” replied the blacksmith gravely, “but I might as well tell you. On the mountain above this village, there is a temple and the priest who lives there wears a blue robe just like yours. This priest used to have a reputation for being highly intelligent and kind-hearted. He visited all of our houses and he was always nice and polite. The people trusted him.”

“All that changed last spring. The priest went to another village to perform a baptism. When he came back, he had a young boy with him. He was a very good-looking boy, about 12 or 13 years of age. The priest spent all his time with the boy and it was almost as if he was in love with him. Everyone thought this was very strange.”

“Then, the boy was struck down with an illness. His condition became very serious and a doctor came from the city to take care of him. Sadly, it was no use and the boy finally died. The priest cried and cried until he couldn’t cry anymore. He wailed and wailed until his voice gave out. Strangest of all, he refused to allow the body to be buried or cremated. Instead, he held the boy’s corpse in his arms and clutched his hand and caressed his cheek as if he was still alive.”

“We didn’t realize it at the time, but the priest had gone stark raving mad. One morning, some of the villagers visited the temple and what they saw made them run away screaming in horror. The priest was eating the boy’s flesh and licking his bones. They said the priest had become a demon.”

“Ever since then, the priest has terrorised our village, coming down from the mountain night after night and digging up the graves, in search of more corpses. When he finds a fresh one, he eats it. We’ve all heard the old stories about demons and the people live in fear. Every house is tightly boarded up at sundown and word has already spread throughout the area. People are come here anymore. Now you see why we mistook you for him. What can we do to stop him?”

“Strange things happen in this world,” exclaimed Kaian. “There are some people who are born as humans, but something goes wrong and they do evil and immoral things. This causes them to turn into demons. It has been happening since the beginning of time. In one case I know of, a woman turned into a snake. In another, a man’s mother became a ghoul. I know of another man who liked the flesh of children and secretly kidnapped youngsters in order to have them steamed and served as food.”

“A friend of mine who is a monk was passing through a village and he stayed the night in an old woman’s hut. It was raining and the wind was howling. He lay awake without even a lamp to comfort him in his loneliness. As the night deepened, he thought that he heard the bleating of a sheep and soon afterwards, something came sniffing around him to see whether he was asleep or awake. Quick as a flash, he lashed out with his stick and struck hard. The creature screamed and collapsed on the floor. The old woman heard the ruckus and came in with a lamp. They found a young girl lying unconscious on the floor. The old woman, begged him not to kill the girl because it was her daughter. What could he do? He left and went on his way, but later, when he came back to the village, the people were gathered around watching something. When he asked them what was going on, they told him they had caught a young girl who was a witch and they were about to bury her alive.”

“So what do you think happened to our priest?” the blacksmith asked.

“I think it has something to do with the young boy,” replied Kaian. “This priest’s weird and unnatural attachment to the boy led him down a sinful path and transformed him into a ghoul. Now that I know what we are dealing with, I may be able to help you and rid your village of this wretched demon.”

“If you can do that for us, all the people in this area would be eternally grateful,” said the blacksmith.

“I will just need one thing,” said Kaian. “A wooden staff with a long, sharp blade hidden inside.”

So, the blacksmith worked long and hard. Finally, he presented Kaian with the peculiar weapon he requested. It looked just like a wooden staff, but when you twisted the top and pulled, out came a long, sharp blade.

With the staff in hand, Kaian set out on his mission. By the time he had hiked up to the top of the mountain, the sun was already setting. The temple looked deserted and the gates were tangled with thorns and brambles. Spiders were spinning webs on the statues and the altar was covered in moss and bird droppings. The whole place exuded an eerie feeling of rot and desolation.

Kaian walked up to the door and knocked. For a long time, there was only silence and then, from the darkness, a man emerged, snarling and drooling and gnashing his teeth.

“Why have you come here?” he croaked hoarsely.

Kaian backed away cautiously, keeping a safe distance between himself and the ghoul.

“This temple is deserted and the people have fled,” he said. “In desolate places like this evil things sometimes happen. The people tell me it is because you have become a demon. They say that night after night, you go down to the village and feast on human flesh. Nobody feels safe.”

The priest was advancing towards him, growling like a feral dog. Saliva dripped down his chin and he looked like he was ravenous. Kaian kept backing away.

“What they say is true,” snarled the priest. “Human flesh is what I eat and tonight, I shall use your flesh to fill my stomach.”

“What if I told you there is a cure for your condition?” said Kaian.

The priest was surprised. “A cure?” he asked, eyeing Kaian suspiciously. “If you know of a cure then tell me now so I can escape my horrible fate.”

Kaian removed his blue hood and threw it at the vile and beastly priest.

“Put this on,” he said.

The priest snatched the blue hood off the ground, then sat down on a flat rock in front of the temple and placed it over his head.

“Don’t try to trick me,” growled the priest. “I can still see you, so keep your distance. If you don’t, I will be licking your bones by dawn.”

“Solve the following riddle and you will be freed from your misery,” said Kaian. “Listen carefully…”

He began to recite the riddle:

“Upon the water the moonlight glows,
Among the trees the wild breeze blows,
Throughout the night the darkness flows,
And why this is nobody knows.”

The priest pondered the words for a while.

“Can you give me a clue?” he asked.

“No clues,” said Kaian. “You must concentrate hard and meditate on it, no matter how long it takes. Eventually, you will understand its meaning and find freedom from this horror.”

The minutes passed and the hours ticked by and as the priest sat thinking and thinking, Kaian began inching closer and closer. He moved almost imperceptably, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and sliding each foot an inch nearer to where the priest was sitting.

The night was coming to an end and a grey light spread out across the sky as dawn arrived. The priest sat motionless on the rock, murmuring in a thin voice, no louder than the buzzing of a mosquito:

“Upon the water the moonlight glows,
Among the trees the wild breeze blows,
Throughout the night the darkness flows,
And why this is nobody knows.”

Kaian watched silently, his hand firmly grasping the tip of his rod. He inched closer and closer until the priest was within arm’s length.

He heard a cock crow in the distance.

“Well, have you found the solution to the riddle?” asked Kaian.

“Not yet,” replied the priest

“That’s because there isn’t one,” said Kaian and with a gutteral cry, he pulled the long, sharp sword out of the wooden staff and swung it with all his might.

The sharp blade went straight through the priest’s neck like a hot knife through butter and sliced off his head, sending it rolling down the mountainside. His decapitated body toppled over and fell, lying prostrate among the weeds.

Kaian cleaned off his blade and slid it back inside the rod. Then, he set out on the long journey down the mountinside to tell the villagers their nightmare was at an end.

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 6.0/10 (375 votes cast)

Crimson Fangs

December 31, 2014 at 12:00 AM
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 7.4/10 (258 votes cast)

“I’m so cold.”

This was the first thought that entered into Amber’s dazed consciousness. Her eyelids flickered open to see nothing but hazy darkness around her. Moaning softly, she struggled to raise her body from the prone position she lay in, wrapping her bare arms around herself in response to the strange chill that permeated the air. She blinked several times and brushed a wisp of dark hair from her face as her eyes began to adjust to the ethereal aura that filled the cold, empty room.

“What… Where am I? How did I get here?”

She pushed herself up on one knee and shuddered. The room was cold… so cold. She had no memory of how she had gotten here; no memory of the past few hours.

Slowly, Amber stood and looked around. “He-hello? Where am I? Is anyone here?” she called out, her tremulous voice echoing slightly in the bare room. Her normally active mind was in a blur she attempted to discern what was happening to her, and in her confusion, an icy fear began to grip her. “What’s going on?” She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself again. “Come on Amber, think; what’s the last thing you remember?” She rubbed her eyes. “Eric… A bookstore… No, I can’t remember!”

Amber peered around again. A strange, faintly luminescent mist writhed about her, giving off just barely enough light to see the shapes of her surroundings. It was by this cold light that she noticed the door and a chill ran down her spine, although whether for excitement or dread she did not know. Amber walked cautiously over to the door and reached out to grasp the cold doorknob. Her mind burned with a strange fear that absorbed her thoughts as she held the handle. “What’s behind this door? What if it’s locked and I’m trapped here? Why am I even here? This room is so cold.”

Her heart pounding, Amber braced herself and gripped the doorknob tighter, slowly twisting it and pushing the door open. To her relief, it gave way; and yet, to her surprise, it made no sound. No squeaking of the hinges, no soft jingle as the doorknob turned in its socket. Just silence.
She swallowed the lump of anxiety in her throat and bit her lip as she pushed the silent door wide open and peered outside. She stepped out of the doorway and looked around. It was a hallway, stretching for many yards on both ends. It reminded her of the halls in those old Victorian mansions, except this one was totally bare. No pictures, no statues, no houseplants, not even wallpaper; just dark, cold walls and doors. Dozens of doors lined either side of the hallway, each one identical and each one as dark and silent as the one she had just stepped through.

Amber shuddered and ventured again, her voice still shaky, “Um… hello? Is… is anyone there?”

There was no answer except her voice reverberating along the dank walls. She clutched at her arms and hugged herself tighter, her heart racing. “Should I try to open one of those doors?”

Taking a cautious step further out, she reached towards the doorknob opposite her. However before she could grab hold of the handle, she froze, and a chill of pure terror rippled down her spine.

A sound had emanated from behind her in the room that she had just exited: a low, sibilant hiss.

A small whine of apprehension trickled from her throat and she turned, her eyes widening and her face turning pale. She began to shiver uncontrollably as she stared into the dark room. At first she saw nothing, nothing but the same cold blackness that had surrounded her. She continued to stare ahead, not daring to turn her eyes away as she waited.

Then it was there.

A tall, lithe form stood, almost as dark as the room it occupied, vaguely humanoid in shape, but otherwise indiscernible in the darkness. Amber slowly backed away from the door, every instinct in her body telling her to flee, and yet she could not. She stood transfixed, gazing back at the shadowy creature in the room.

The low, hissing breath wreathed out from the murky chamber… and it smiled. The darkness smiled, with two rows of long, glistening, crimson fangs.

Amber’s senses were suddenly awakened as a scream tore from her throat and she ran. Her mind became numb with fright, her body bent on survival as she raced down the hollow passageway. She could feel it behind her; it was so cold. Rows upon rows of doors flew by her as she ran, not caring or thinking about anything but flight… and the fangs. Her vision began to blur as her mind raced frantically. “There’s got to be a way out, there has to be some way to escape…”

She could hear the serpentine hiss echo around the halls. It was following her.

The hallway ended abruptly, bending sharply to her right. With no time to slow her acceleration, Amber slammed into the wall and staggered back, not even daring to look behind her as she turned down the other passageway.

Still the hissing followed.

Sweat had begun to drip down her forehead, mingling with tears of terror as she felt the overwhelming sensation of hope and energy draining from her. Her run slowed to a stagger, her mind blazing with a strange, hazy pain. Still she continued on, driven by fear. As she rounded another corner, she saw the unexpected.

A single, desperate ounce of hope sprung up within her at the sight of the small but bright light at the end of the dark hallway; she felt as though it were the first light she had seen in ages. Amber didn’t care where it led, as long as it took her away from here; away from the cold hissing, and from those glistening crimson fangs. With renewed energy Amber began to sprint towards the light.

The hissing continued.

Before she knew it the window of light stood before her, glowing brightly and proving a stark contrast to the dank, gray walls around it. Mustering every last bit of energy within her, Amber leaped, hoping to pass through the light and into freedom… but her hands slammed into a wall of glass.

She gasped and hit the window again, but it did not budge.

The hissing drew nearer.

She pounded at the window, murmuring frantically under her breath. “What’s going on? What is this?!”

It was so cold.

Her brain cleared long enough to notice something behind the window. It was a man, and he was looking at her. Her heart leaped for joy when she recognized him.

“Eric!” she screamed. “Eric, it’s me! Please open the window! Help me!”

But there came no response. Her fiancé simply sat staring at her, his expression one of grief, his eyes slightly misted with tears.
Amber smashed her fists against the window, pleading desperately, “Please, Eric, help me! It’s coming! Please… please help me!”
Still he made no reply.

The hissing…

Amber slumped to the floor, her fingernails scraping against the glass as she slid down the window. Tears streamed down her face and her heart raced like a locomotive as she curled up and wept. “Please, Eric… Save me…”

The hissing drew nearer.

~~~

….beep……beep……beep……

Eric sat in the bright hospital room, listening to the never-ending heart monitor and staring solemnly at the still and quiet body of his fiancée Amber. She lay on the bed, her once beautiful and intelligent blue eyes glazed over in a state of comatose.

It had been nearly four hours since they had found her lying unconscious on the floor in the back room of the old Eldridge Bookshop, her eyes wide open in shock, and a small book resting in her hand. No one had any idea of what had happened to her. The shopkeeper said that she seemed perfectly all right when she had entered, and that she had been perusing through a collection of antique books that they had just received before she suddenly just dropped without a sound.

Of course, there was that book that she had been clutching; that small, strange book simply titled “Crimson Fangs”. What was so strange was that no author or publishing year was listed anywhere on it, not to mention the fact that the pages were totally blank. But then again, Amber liked those kinds of oddities. She was always collecting those rare misprints and old books that were only published for one month back in the 18th century. She was funny in that way. Eric sighed and once again grasped her hand. It was so cold.

For all of the past four hours he had sat patiently by her bedside, staring into her blank eyes and often talking to her, reminiscing about their times together or about her favorite stories; anything to wake her from her state. But nothing helped. The doctors were puzzled about the fact that, other than being in a coma, her body was healthy. Her breathing and heart-rate were normal and there were no signs of a concussion, cardiac arrest, a stroke; anything.

Eric reached out and tenderly brushed a strand of dark, silky hair from her face. She was so beautiful, even with her face frozen in a still, emotionless stare. He wanted to see her smile again.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened. The doctor walked over and placed a gentle hand on Eric’s shoulder. “You’ve been in here for a long time. Perhaps you would like a break?”

Eric swallowed back the dryness in his throat and stroked Amber’s cold hand. “Y-yes, of course. I just can’t stand for her to be like this, all pale and…” He closed his eyes and shuddered before standing up. “You’ll let me know if anything happens to her, right?”

The doctor smiled warmly. “Certainly; now go get some rest.”

Eric nodded and turned, with one last long gaze at the motionless form of his beloved Amber before walking out the door.

~~~

Amber sat by the window, staring up into the despondent face of her fiancé. She sobbed and reached up to weakly grasp at the sheet of glass that separated her from the one person that she loved and trusted most. So near, and yet so far.

“This has to be a dream. Wake up, Amber… Please wake up!”

Then he moved. She whipped her head up and stared with wide, desperate eyes as Eric stood and looked at her sadly before-

“No. No, it can’t be! He’s leaving me! He’s walking away!” She leaped up and screamed frantically, slamming her fists against the window, trying to get his attention, for him to finally notice her and save her. “No… No, please! Eric, don’t leave me! Please, don’t leave me!”

But he was gone. The window was empty.

Her breath heavy and her eyes hazy with tears, Amber once again slumped to the floor. Eric, her closest and dearest friend, the one person she could always count on to keep her safe, had abandoned her. Every last bit of hope had deserted her. She was alone; all alone in this cold, dark hallway. It was then that she noticed something was different about her surroundings. The hissing was gone. That horrible, chilling sound… there was nothing. Nothing but cold silence.

Amber held her breath, slowly turned her head…

And stared into the crimson-fanged grin.

~~~

A calm silence filled the bright hospital room, only broken by the steady beat of the heart monitor.

….beep……beep……beep……

Amber’s body lay, staring ahead blankly just as she had for the past four hours.

….beep……beep……beep…..

She blinked. Her eyes slowly shifted to look at the monitor.

….beep……beep……beep…………beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

She sat up, her black silky hair draping around her head like a nest of dead snakes. With one quick, stilted motion, she pried the oxygen mask from her face before her gaze turned to the door. There were the sounds of voices and footsteps outside. The light in the room flickered as a dark, ethereal mist began to writhe up from the floor. The doorknob rattled as it opened.

A low, sibilant hiss rasped out from Amber’s throat… and she smiled, with two rows of long, glistening, crimson fangs.

Credit To – Josh

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 7.4/10 (258 votes cast)

Tropical Storm Fay

December 30, 2014 at 12:00 AM
VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 7.0/10 (455 votes cast)

The events in this story occurred on a warm & humid night in late August of 2008, the night after Tropical Storm Fay ripped through our town in Gadsden County, Florida. Looking back on this, I will say that the terror of that storm was nothing compared to what followed the night after the storm passed through our area.

The days prior to this storm making landfall here was a scary time. We had “heard” that it was coming in this direction, and we prepared for it, but in the back of our minds we thought, and hoped, that it would head elsewhere.

I mean, after all, this area had not been hit directly by any hurricane or tropical storm since Hurricane Kate in 1985. Considering this is Florida, this area had been lucky for the past 23 hurricane seasons and we had hoped to stay that way. However, there was something quite unusual about the path of this storm. It seemed to have made a deliberate path that covered the entire state of Florida.

The night after the storm was a very peculiar and unnervingly silent night. After the storm, the sheriff of our county ordered a mandatory curfew, asking that everyone please ensure that they remain indoors after dark until things were restored back to normal. Because of this, there were no cars on the highway which made it even more silent.

We live very close to a river that runs through this part of the county. Although the river is not close enough to see from the house, and a considerable walk through the woods, the storm had caused it to swell into a raging and violent river that was now literally in the woods behind our house.

Besides the distant sound of the raging water and the occasional eerie whisper of the wind blowing through the pines, there was nothing. It felt as if I was the last person on earth, but little did I know, I was not alone! Since the storm had passed, my parents decided to go stay with my elderly grandmother who lived alone and needed someone to be with her until the power was restored and things were back to normal.

I was 19 years old at the time, so this was ok with me, although the thought of being alone in the dark seemed a bit unnerving. There had been warnings on the radio of looting in the area, so as a precaution we mounted two outdoor trail cameras outside. We live in a highly secluded and wooded area, so I hoped that the chances of anyone coming here was low. One of the cameras was mounted above the back door and it was motion activated, therefore anyone (or any “thing”, in this case) coming up to the back door would trigger it to flash and take a picture. The other one was pointed towards the screen door of the front porch.

I was sitting in the living room, had a few candles burning in the room and the living room windows open. The storm had left behind a warm and sticky humidity in the air, and since the lack of power meant no air conditioning, the only relief was to have the windows open. I only wanted windows open in the room that I was in currently because the warnings on the radio had me pretty nervous.

As I was sitting there, trying to read with what little light the candles provided, I began to hear the faint sound of leaves crackling, as if something was coming. At that moment it sounded far away, but just close enough for me to hear it. I immediately blew out the candles as I instantly feared that it was the looters they warned us about on the radio. If that was the case, I did not want them to see me through the windows. I crouched down against the wall, sitting in complete darkness looking towards the window, hoping that maybe I could see if someone passed by.

I sat there, continued listening for the sound but it seemed to have stopped for a few minutes. In some attempt to comfort my worried mind, I began thinking “perhaps it’s wildlife trying to get away from the swollen river”. Just to be safe and certain that it was not a person, I continued sitting there. For a while, all I could hear was the faint sound of the river rushing through the trees in the woods behind the house and the whispering pine trees swaying in the wind, the only two sounds that remained in my world at this dark and scary time.

For what felt like an hour, but was really only a matter of minutes, I started to hear the sound again, but this time it was closer. In addition to this, the sound of crackling leaves was not only closer but I began hearing this awful sound that sounded almost like that of a squealing pig or wild boar. The sound stopped for a moment, I thought perhaps it really is a wild boar, which is not uncommon in this area. I sat there, quite freaked out at this moment, and it was then that I realized I had not locked the back door.

I decided to get up and make my way back there to lock the door before whatever it was had a chance to get in.
When I walked towards the back, I saw a flash through the window which indicated that something was already at the back door, it was the flash from the outdoor camera mounted above the back door. Frozen in fear, I stood still for a moment in dead silence when I heard the sound of heavy boots in the utility room where the back door was. At this moment I felt sickly and terrified as I knew I was no longer alone, and that now someone was in here with me.

Was it looters? Was it someone here to cause me harm? All kinds of thoughts racing to my mind, including where I was going to run to.
I could barely make out the sight of a tall figure standing at the doorway. I had a flashlight in my hand, I turned it on and shined it towards the door to the utility room. It was then, I saw it, still today the most terrifying sight I’ve ever seen, burned into my mind forever. There stood a tall figure with the darkest pits in its eyes, a head full of small and goat-like horns, and hooves as its feet but yet when it walked it sounded as if a heavy man with boots was walking? Every time it exhaled, it sounded as if it were grunting.

It immediately charged at me, making a wheezy squealing sound. I ran into the guest bedroom, which was right beside where I was standing.
I ran in, slammed the door shut, propping against it to hold it closed. I was expecting a struggle, or at least for it to make an attempt to get in. Instead, after slamming the door all I heard was silence. Where did it go? Or more seriously, where did it come from? It appeared to come from the greatest depths of hell, was this satan himself?

For what felt like an eternity, I sat quietly against the door, waiting, hoping it was gone. I didn’t sleep at all for the remainder of that night. After daylight came, I decided that I had to at least check the house. I slowly opened the door, an inch at a time, and saw nothing there. I took one slow step at a time throughout the house and noticed nothing other than the back door wide open, swaying in the wind.

My thoughts were that nobody would believe this harrowing story, but I knew if I could retrieve the photo from the back door camera, then just maybe it would show everyone this hideous creature.

Several days later when power was restored, I connected the camera to my computer to pull up the photos. To my dismay, there was indeed one photo, but what it displayed was not what I saw in front of my very eyes. It showed a blurry orb-like object passing in front of the camera.

Still today I wonder, “What was it?” “Where did it come from and where did it go?” I never before saw anything like that here and never again has it showed its ugly face. However, I am forever haunted by it, I still wake up a lot of mornings at exactly 3:33 AM, coincidence? Every time I awake to the sight of 3:33 AM on my alarm clock, I have to wonder “Is it here?” “Is it somewhere close by, watching and waiting?”

Did this entity come here to send a message, or did it come to send a warning? Was it related in any way to this storm that seemed to deliberately trace its way to me? Perhaps these questions will never be answered, or perhaps the next time you awake at 3:33 AM, it could be somewhere in the room with you, hiding in the darkness around you, watching and waiting to show itself! I worry what kind of events will come along with the next big storm, but I will never forget what I saw the night after Tropical Storm Fay!

Credit To – Allen Q.

VN:F [1.9.22_1171]
Rate This Pasta
Rating: 7.0/10 (455 votes cast)
Try a free sample Personal Astrology Profile!