13 Tales To Give You Night Terrors (19 page)

Something behind off to his left side. The
small circular beam of light found a sheet dancing between the
trees. Six foot tall and fluttering several feet away.

And then it took one stilted step
closer.

Was that the shape of a head at the top? Arms
at the side? A dark flower pinned at the top?

The stiff-legged movements brought the
sheetbody even closer.

Nolan screamed and backed up, but he smacked
against an apple tree, the branches rustling in his face and
hair.

Was this what happened to the Munroes? A
dancing sheetbody beckoned each of them into the barn where it
butchered them?

The pale figure came closer. And closer. The
sheet reached out for him.

Nolan threw his arms in the air, the
flashlight casting a wild range of flittering shadows as it darted
forward and back.

The sheet dropped flat to the ground, the
petals scattering.

Nothing moved. It must have been caught on a
tree limb and dancing in the breeze.

Nolan carefully jabbed at the sheet with one
foot, but it didn’t stir. Of course is didn’t. Why should
it?

Nolan exhaled. Amicus had said the night was
full of terrors, but so far it had only been full of bed linen. He
started walking away when something thumped right behind him. He
froze.

The sheet?

A bright red apple lay in the center of the
sheet. Nolan looked above, but there were only birch trees in the
immediate area. He approached the apple and picked it up. It was
half rotten and worms and ants snaked their way through it. He
threw the apple as far he could. It exploded against a
tree.

He half jogged through the underbrush until
he’d left the sheet far behind. When he stopped and caught his
breath, he found a squat farmhouse laying right in front of him.
There, off by the road, stood a mailbox.

MUNROE
.

He hadn’t passed this farmhouse on his way to
Thirteen Serling Drive.

He just needed to get inside. Safety. He spun
around, looked behind him. Why couldn’t he be sitting in front of
the fireplace waiting for Parker to show up?

The flashlight dimmed. The batteries wouldn’t
last forever.

The farmhouse was locked. Nolan stepped to the
side and shined the light in the window. It was dusty inside and a
dark, human-sized lump lay in the kitchen floor. The house phone
was covered, so were the mirrors.

Nolan stepped back. Barnyard animals cried
out. He aimed the flashlight in that direction.

A barn loomed off to the side, large and
foreboding.

He heard a creaking sound, like a door slowly
opening, but saw no sign of movement.

Someone’s really out here with
me.

Nolan’s mouth went dry as his palms grew damp,
almost causing the flashlight to slip from his grasp. His eyes were
drawn to the barn door. It was wide open, the inside a rectangular
black hole. Was the door open before?

His feet moved on their own.

Maybe it would be safer in there. The last
place anyone would look.

Nolan’s tongue lolled to the side as he found
himself absent-mindedly chewing on it, gentle but firm. A grounded
motion that told Nolan he was still alive. For now.

He stepped inside the barn. He didn’t dare
close the door behind him—the movement or noise could alert whoever
was out there with him. Inside the barn, he found horse stalls and
a ladder leading to the hayloft. It stank of piss and mildew. The
flashlight’s beam grew dimmer. Before long, it would only be useful
as a club for self-defense.

A flashlight against an
ax.

Something tickled Nolan’s ear. He jumped back
and brushed at it. Nothing there.

Everything would have been fine if he’d just
stayed inside the lake house.

He shined the light into the vaulted rafters
and found massive spider webs.

Maybe a spider dropped on me.
Crawling through my hair, inside my ear, laying a sack of
eggs.

He chewed harder on his tongue. Ran his pinky
in his ear. Nothing but a little bit of wax.

Nolan’s breath rose in front of his face. It
was suddenly freezing in the barn.

A light flickered by the entrance. Nolan
ducked into one of the stalls and shut the flashlight off. He
crouched low, caught his breath, and squinted.

“
Clara? You in here? Poppa said no
one’s allowed out here this late.” It was a boy younger than Nolan.
He carried a lantern in one hand, the light illuminating his
scuffed-up overalls. He walked into the center of the barn and
peered into the darkness.

Clara must have been the boy’s sister. Was she
the first one lured out here to die?

“
It’s getting late and—” The boy’s
body convulsed and he dropped the lantern. His overalls were torn
open, his flesh bursting like ripped seems. He started to scream
but his throat opened wide.

The young farmer’s body dropped in a heap. A
moment later it was yanked toward the ladder. Nolan forced himself
to watch as invisible hands hoisted the fresh corpse into the
hayloft.

Nolan squeezed the small cross dangling around
his neck as he heard footsteps in the loft directly overhead. It
was his best chance to escape before whatever it was came back
down. Came for him.

He wanted to move. He desperately needed to.
But his legs wouldn’t budge. The exit was too far away. He noticed
the light streaming in through a small opening in the back wall.
The broken window was much closer but smaller. He could at least
scope it out.

The footsteps paced back and forth
overhead.

Nolan crawled on all fours through the shit
and straw to the narrow window. The glass had been knocked out
already but the wooden crossbeam remained. Nolan bore down on his
tongue and gripped the wood with both hands. Grunting, he pulled
the wood free and set it on the hay. He pulled himself through the
open space and fell flat on his stomach on the other
side.

The wind was knocked out of him and he started
to panic.

Something hard pressed into his groin. It sent
a tingling sensation though his stomach and knees. He pulled at it
and realized it was just the flashlight. He flicked it back on and
pushed himself up to his feet.

When Nolan turned around, there was no barn.
In its place were dozens of apple trees.

There was barely any path caught in the dying
flashlight’s beam, but Nolan made his way toward the water’s edge
and walked along the rocky ground toward the lake house.

He wished he knew how late it was. He felt
like he’d been locked out for hours. His feet were sore and his
nerves beyond raw. Safety waited for him inside the house. After
all, Amicus lived there part time and no axman’s ghost had
butchered him.

The flashlight flickered and died. He slammed
the end against his palm and produced a faint glow. He hurried
through the trees, praying he’d reach the lake house before he was
completely out of light.

His foot caught an apple and he crashed to the
ground, his head slamming against something hard.

“
Poppa?”

“
There’s something out in the
barn.”

“
Stay here, Jacob.”

“
Let us make this
quick.”

“
Poppa?”

“
Clara?”

“
Stay here, Jacob.”

“
I’ll check the barn.”

The voices washed over Nolan like a tidal
wave. Tears stung his eyes. His temple burned and his entire body
felt heavy. His eyelids fluttered and something warm dribbled from
his mouth. He spat the blood out; he must have bitten down hard on
his cheek.

He pushed himself up and scrambled through the
trees, dying light shakily aimed just ahead of his feet.

The light flickered one last time as it died.
Nolan emerged out of the thicket and found himself standing in
front of the lake house with only the moon to guide him.

He heard his phone ringing faintly inside the
house. Probably Parker.
Hey, Nolan, it’s
getting late and I’m sure you’re not locked outside so I’m just
going to head home. Later, sucker.

The ringer went silent.

His back against the door, Nolan dropped to
the ground. He thumped his head against the wood. It wasn’t safe
out there. Those things were everywhere. Amicus had to have a spare
key hidden somewhere.

It could be in the cabana. In one
of those boxes.

He pushed himself off the door and circled the
house. He opened the cabana door, but without a light it would be
impossible to search inside. He backed away from the cabana, his
legs trembling. He dropped to the deck in a heap, utterly defeated.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Rage flashed through him and
Nolan flipped over one of the lawn chairs. He stood up and grabbed
the second chair, then threw it into the lake. Something silver
caught on the moonlight. Taped underneath the chair bobbing in the
water was a key.

“
Yes!” Nolan pumped his fist in the
air. He’d done it.

He approached the edge of the deck and lay on
his stomach, reaching out for the chair leg. It was just out of
reach. He scooted even further off the deck, straining.

Little bubbles popped on the water’s surface
on all sides of the chair. Nolan froze. An apple rose out of the
water, then a second and a third. A handful of petals
appeared.

Nolan didn’t want to wait to find out what
would appear next. He leaned out even further over the water,
straining with everything he had left.

His fingers grazed the chair leg. Just enough
to pull it closer. He grabbed the leg and dragged it back to the
dock.

It caught on something. Nolan tugged harder,
but the water yanked the chair back. He lost balance, but caught
himself before he fell into the water, his face inches from the
surface, the ends of his hair wet.

A dark clump rose next to Nolan’s face so
close he could make out the texture in the soaking wet cloth. Five
covered ridges. A hand.

Nolan grabbed the chair leg again and pushed
off the dock, dragging the chair out of the lake. In a mad dash, he
ripped the key off the chair leg and tripped over his own feet
running to the front door. He jammed the key in, unlocked the door
and slammed it shut behind him.

Something brushed against his leg. He screamed
and threw on the light switch.

A black cat meowed at his feet.

“
Hi, Macabre. Glad you’ve been
here, sitting pretty this whole time.”

His heartbeat returning to normal, Nolan
scratched the cat’s chin before he trotted away. He limped to the
kitchen and poured a glass of water. He leaned back against the
countertop and sipped it.

Safe at last. No more worries.
Thank God.

His phone rang again. He searched around until
he found his cell vibrating from under a hand towel. Weird a cat
would cover his phone.

Nolan read the text from Parker,
On the way. Hope you’re still not paranoid about
the Housesitter killer.

Nolan shuddered and typed back,
Thanks for reminding me. I’d completely forgot
about the escaped lunatic. You wouldn’t believe—

He stopped himself and deleted the text.
Better not act like a crazy person himself. He sent back a
simple
Great, c u soon!
and
set his phone down.

Everything was finally going his way. No more
being locked out. His boyfriend on his way. A whole week to run his
own life and be the person he wanted to be. And five hundred bucks
for it. Just don’t stray too far into the apple trees…

He finished his water and headed upstairs. He
needed to prep the guest bedroom for Parker.

Mood lighting—maybe candles?

Some music—soft jazz?

Sexy fragrance—uh, what?

Nolan reached the top step and hummed on his
way to the guest room. He opened the door and switched on the
light.

He knew in that instant that no matter how
scared he was of the outside world, it was nothing compared to
being locked inside with the maniac sitting in the dark, waiting
for him.

AUTHOR AND EDITOR BIOS

Elliot Arthur
Cross
, author of “Crashing Mirrors” and
“The Housesitter”

Elliot is a New England
based author of gay-themed horror, mystery, young adult, and
adult
adult books. Who
says you have to stick to one genre? He’s been published by JMS
Books and their imprint Queer Teen Press.

He’s always had a passion for writing
and loves all things horror and paranormal.

According to several on-line articles,
an author should have some sort of backstory info in his or her
bio. So his favorite pizza topping is Hawaiian, his favorite color
is red, and his favorite cheese is extra sharp. He has never tasted
a cheese too sharp. He wants to slice his tongue open on its insane
sharpness.