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Post by osnafrank on Oct 22, 2020 8:16:32 GMT
Here it is, the Halloween Story 2020.
Have fun reading.
We release one chapter every day till Halloween. hgmsy59 smilie_hal_086
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Post by osnafrank on Oct 22, 2020 8:17:32 GMT
Submission by prufrock21 - Chapter 1 - The Ghost of Stillwater Falls
"So many ghosts among us." -- D.H. Lawrence
1
Unlike The National Enquirer, the Stillwater Falls Tribune was not known to publish news with a sensationalist slant. Items were usually humdrum, of local interest: a holiday bazaar here, the annual fishing derby there, the Labor Day celebration. The news item which appeared on its front page thirteen years ago, however, was sensationalist in the extreme. The day the incident occurred had been Thanksgiving, the news extraordinary, especially for a small Midwestern town whose major claim to fame was the manufacturing of cheddar cheese.
Psychiatrist shoots wife and murders his two children before killing self
Dr. Eduard Muller, a practicing psychiatrist and leading social figure, shot and wounded his wife of eight years, Darlene Muller (nee Jensen), then murdered his children, fraternal seven-year-old twins, on Thursday, Thanksgiving Day.
The preliminary investigation reveals a single motive, one which, according to witnesses, was the source of many a confrontation between the couple. It was well known among Dr. Muller’s acquaintances his overriding (even pathological) jealousy of his wife. In her youth Darlene Jensen worked as a fashion model renowned for her trim figure and arresting good looks, so much so her beauty was often compared to that of Elizabeth Taylor’s.
Born and raised in Stillwater Falls, Ms. Jensen discovered her career choice early, and after graduating high school ventured to New York where she became a popular high fashion model much in demand. A decade later she returned to her place of birth. Here she met and fell in love with the psychiatrist. The couple wed: he dedicating himself to his blossoming practice and she to her role of housekeeper and much-loved socialite who pursued charitable causes.
After the children were born, Eduard, Jr. and Christine, the marital spats and confrontations increased in earnest. Dr. Muller’s jealousy fueled his rage. And the outcome of this unfortunate (and much lamented) confrontation was the murders and the subsequent suicide of Dr. Muller himself.
Darlene Muller, though seriously wounded, survived this tragedy.
But the tragedy did not stop there. Unable to cope with the loss of her children (bedridden, she was not present at their funeral), Darlene Muller became severely depressed and slowly wasted away, dying of acute inanition six months after the incident. Seven years had passed. The Muller house had since been boarded and put on sale. No one offered to buy it because people believed the house was haunted.
The ghost appeared on the first anniversary of the Muller murders, and on each consecutive year after that.
The Petersens were in the kitchen of their home preparing homemade pumpkin pies for the
Thanksgiving meal. Harold was tall and ruggedly handsome, having maintained an admirable physique into early middle age. Beatrice, though not as tall, and even after giving birth to their two children, was his equal physically, as she practiced Pilates with a fervor displayed only by a true believer.
As usual, the talk at some point centered not only on the roast turkey with stuffing but also on the ghost.
“Think the ghost will make an appearance again this year?” Beatrice asked, wiping her hands on a flower-printed apron.
Harold looked at her, smirked. “Is that a rhetorical question? The ghost has made an appearance come Thanksgiving every year for seven years now. I’d be surprised if it didn’t. Probably miss hearing about it if the damn thing doesn’t show.”
“You’re joking,” she said, a surprised look in her blue eyes.
Harold placed one of the finished pies inside a cardboard box. “No, I’m not. Today will make it eight years. I’m kinda getting used to it. Last year Wally Jacobson, the basketball coach, said he saw the ghost. Spotted it going inside the Muller place. Just went through the front door, he said, without it opening. Spooky.”
“Wally’s a practical joker. You believe him?”
“He was dead serious when he told me. Got all red in the face and sweaty too. Hell yeah I believe him. I believe him because Wally hasn’t been the only one. Every year after those awful murders come Thanksgiving someone always speaks about seeing the ghost. You know what they say."
Beatrice gave him a look. “Of course, I know what they say. They say Darlene Muller was the spitting image of Elizabeth Taylor. That she died heartbroken for her children. And that Darlene is the ghost.”
“Bingo,” Harold said, smiling his usual smile with lips spread.
“I don’t care what people say,” Beatrice responded. “I’m still a skeptic. I’ll believe it when I see the ghost myself, up close and personal. Not that I would ever want to.”
Harold placed another finished pie in the box. At this rate they would finish soon and head over to his folks for the noon meal. “I guess I must be more gullible than you, or impressionable. When I was a youngster, my dad let us stay up late so we could listen to his ghost stories. He was so convincing, scared the bejesus out of us kids.”
You’re silly,” she said. “I can’t picture a rugged man like you ever being afraid of a make-believe—"
Harold would have responded when the phone rang. “I’ll answer it,“ he said.
He went to the living room. A moment later, he trudged into the kitchen looking as if he had seen … a ghost.
“Harold, what’s the matter? You look pale as a sheet.” He remained silent, mouth open, so she said. “Please, say something. You’re scaring me half to death.”
“My dad called. He said he left the grandkids playing in the backyard, and now … they’re missing.”
********
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Post by osnafrank on Oct 23, 2020 8:23:07 GMT
Submission by darkharbinger - Chapter 2
"So what, ghosts can't hurt you. That's what I thought then." -- Stephen King
2
There was a pause, pregnant with dreadful possibilities. “What do you mean missing?”
Harold looked at her, his face ashen. “That’s what dad said. He checked on them a moment ago and now…”
“And now what?” Beatrice demanded. “What did he say? Is he still on the line?”
“No…I hung up…but…”
“You hung up?” Beatrice demanded; her composure gone in an instant. “The kids are missing, and you hung up?” She whipped out her cellphone, heedless of the flour on her hands, and quickly called her father-in-law.
“He said he was going out to look for them,” Harold said, coming back to his senses. That didn’t make the situation less daunting. There were miles of woods behind his parent’s place, mostly unimpressive scrub brush, but more than enough to get lost in.
Beatrice clung to the phone, muttering under her breath. Someone answered and there was a quick conversation that Harold only caught part of. “That was your mom,” Beatrice said after she hung up and put the phone back in her pocket. “She says that the girls couldn’t have been gone long and your dad took off after them.”
The thought of his father traipsing through the underbrush didn’t do much to dowse the growing panic Harold was feeling. “We should get over there now.”
“Just calm down, we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Beatrice said, trying to regain her composure. “They may have just wandered off chasing a squirrel.”
That made some sense. Chasing an animal into the woods was something Carolyn would do. But Sarah? There were times she was timid to go outside, let alone into the woods.
“They know better,” Harold remarked, looking for his keys. They were supposed to be hung by the door, but they weren’t there. Why can’t things be where they are supposed to be, he wondered. If things…if people just stayed where they belonged there wouldn’t be so much trouble.
Near the point of cursing fate, the universe, and anything else that might be listening Harold found his keys in his front pocket. “Give me those. You couldn’t drive across the yard,” Beatrice declared, snatching the keys. “Get in the car and make sure you don’t drop the pies.”
“The pies?”
“Yes, the pies. We’ll still need them for dinner. The girls may have to stand while they are eating, but it’s still Thanksgiving. Hurry up!”
Harold was wise enough to listen when his better half spoke. He placed the pies in the back of their Jeep and then climbed into the passenger seat as Beatrice started the engine. As she pulled out, Harold admitted she was right, he couldn’t drive the way he was.
Then again, suggesting that Beatrice was driving might have been a misnomer. She was flying. As they raced across town Harold noticed that while his wife didn’t break any traffic laws, she certainly bent them into new and fascinating shapes.
He also noticed, perhaps subconsciously, that the transition between holidays hadn’t been so smooth in Stillwater Falls. Here it was Thanksgiving and yet Halloween was still lingering like an ex-lover who couldn’t quite take the hint. A few jack-o-lanterns stood sentinel on porches and hanging from the occasional tree were paper skeletons left behind like unwanted fruit.
What a way to spend Thanksgiving, he thought as the landscape rushed around the Jeep. When they found the girls, he was going to give them a stern talking down, then hug them. If you find them, a perverse thought mocked him. That was just stupid, the girls couldn’t have gone that far. Relax, he told himself, this is Stillwater Falls. Nothing bad ever happens here. Then he remembered the Muller murders. Bad things did happen around here.
Beatrice pulled into his parent’s driveway and came to a jarring stop. Instantly, Harold was out of his door and rushing around the house, Beatrice behind him. They reached the backyard just as Harold’s father and Carolyn came trudging through the trees. They were both bedraggled, covered in mud and leaves.
“Sarah,” Harold said, his blood running cold. “Where is Sarah?”
Where is your sister?” Beatrice asked. She shook her gently, trying to snap her back to reality. “Where is Sarah?”
Normally articulate beyond her age, Carolyn struggled for words. “She is with the…ghost.”
********
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Post by osnafrank on Oct 24, 2020 8:56:12 GMT
Submission by wolf - Chapter 3
"I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself." - D.H. Lawrence
3
Beatrice’s heart had been beating fast, but when she heard what Carolyn said, it leapt into her throat. She calmed her tone, refusing to panic. She squatted down to speak to her daughter. As she did, she noticed the two men exchanging woeful glances.
Harold said, " Dad......" putting his hand on his father's shoulder.
"I know son. It's time to tell her." the tired man sighed.
Beatrice heard, but remained focused, asking the little girl questions as she swiped leaves from her hair and dried mud from her hands, "Baby? Was it a man? A woman? Another kid? Tell me sweetheart."
Carolyn's lip trembled, "It was a woman, Mama.....she was scary....and ugly, all dark and black and gray...it was bad!" She started to cry. Beatrice rose, pulling her close and shushing her, "It's going to be okay. Don't worry, baby." She turned to her father in law, "Phil? What did you see!?"
He shook his head slowly quietly telling her, "I didn't see it. Beatie... you two need to talk. I’ll call Justin with the SFPD, and handle all of that end."
Beatrice reached over and fondly brushed a bit of mud from his cheek. "Tell me WHAT, Phil" She loved him, and he knew it, but right now her eyes were all business. Harold gently reached for her wrist, thumb at the veins below her palm, a touch that tended to calm her.
"Bea....." he pronounced it BeeUh, his name for her since long before they were wed. Her cold eyes met his, listening. "Let's go in the house."
"No. Tell me right now, what's going on with you two."
Phil took that opportunity to go inside, "Carolyn, let's go see your Gran and Max, and let them get us cleaned up, hon. Paw got some phone calls to make and you're going to get to meet a good friend of mine and your dad's. You'll like him a lot. He'll help us find Sarah. Okay?" Carolyn took his hand, wiping her tears, "Okay Paw, I missed Max. I wish he had come out with us." With that Phil led her inside and let Bea and Hare have the yard.
Hare, as Phil called him since he was a young little "jack rabbit" told Bea 'the Stories'. The ones his grandfather told his dad, and a story about something he and his father had endured when Harold and Justin were teens.
The Muller manse had been around long before the Muller's had moved in. Back in the 30's and 40's, children had vanished without a trace. Parents....and others, who had gone looking for the children were found dead or worse ... savagely slaughtered. The disappearances, and murders had suddenly stopped. Then when Harold was a kid, it happened again. Then stopped just as suddenly.
Bea hadn't grown up in Stillwater Falls, she'd never heard these things before. But she had heard about the house from Willford Grim, the local real estate agent. It was huge inside, with a basement that led to other dank dark cellars. The search was about to begin. Harold collected hammers and a couple of crowbars, Bea got her knife from the Jeep’s glove compartment and a shirt of Sarah's from the back seat. Harold raised an eyebrow when he saw her slip her "Japanese Steel" in her back pocket. The last time she had used the made in Japan Seki lockblade, Max was just a pup in the park with her. A creep had tried to grab her arm. The cops were called that time too.
As they headed out the back door with Max, a tall dark haired woman in a glowing white dress appeared at the beginning of the tree-line. A light breeze rose and on it a beautiful whispery voice sighed sweetly, "Maximus... Sarah..."
The German Shepherd's ears shot up. He ran to her, wagging his tail, letting out a single excited bark. He reached her and she bent down, stroking his head. Bea and Hare could see her lips move, but not hear her. When she straightened, Maximus ran back to them, and the woman vanished in an ethereal mist.
"Com' on Bea!... doggo! Let's go!" Harold headed into the wood, Bea and Max at his side. A few hundred yards in, they found a clearing. A full mile in is "The House".
Back at Phil’s, Justin Rathbone arrived. Carolyn told him everything she could about how a sobbing woman had lured little Sarah deep into the wooded area.......
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Post by osnafrank on Oct 25, 2020 10:37:37 GMT
Submission by @@woowoo001 - Chapter 4
“A great hush had fallen over the woods; but it was a malefic hush.” – Stephen King
4
Beatrice yelled, “There she is!” She and Harold bounded toward the dark-haired figure. Beatrice felt as if she were running underwater -- she seemed to be unable to make any estimable progress. Thru tear-blurred eyes, seeing Harold ahead of her she suddenly regarded him with hatred. With his aging but still handsome face, his hound's tooth jacket from his college days, that she'd happily relinquished to rummage sales and charity shops again and again, but still somehow, she'd find the thing days later hanging in his closet. He was weak and vain, squandered her money, was a philanderer, he ....!
Beatrice suddenly bolted ahead past Harold. Gasping heavily for breath she was inches from grasping the dark-haired woman with clawed fingers, but then stepped on some obstacle that nearly made her fall before she righted herself.
Harold passing her, his face wolfen, and as he passed reached down with his left hand and snatched up the obstacle. It was some ancient-looking broken handled chopping or prying tool. Gaining her, Harold raised it and with terrible force smashed it across the dark-haired woman's head and shoulders. The old wood shattered from the impact filling the air with putrid dust. For a split-second Beatrice wondered how she could have ever considered him weak.
Harold's vision started to blur. Nearby voices sounded as if they had withdrawn into a drain pipe.
Everything and everyone around him -- Beatrice, the surrounding trees, the sky itself -- began to bleed into streaks of paint on a canvas as he felt suddenly weightless.
And then a sudden, painful stop as his head hit the ground.
Beatrice leaned over him, a worried look on his face. "Harold! Are you all right?"
Harold moved his lips but could make no sound. Beyond Beatrice's frantic eyes he could see young Carolyn standing a short distance away from him, her hands over her mouth. Beyond that he saw. Something. Else. His eyes did little more than register movement out of the corner of his vision, and when he looked directly at it, there was nothing to see.
But what he had seen was temporarily burned into his vision. It was a bone-chilling, spectral apparition of a little girl with nothing but a black void where her eyes should have been. He recognized her right away, despite the strangeness of the sight. It was Sarah.
*********
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Post by osnafrank on Oct 26, 2020 10:04:31 GMT
Submission by docpain2 - Chapter 5
“All would be heavenly- If the damned would only stay damned.” - The Book of the Damned, Charles Fort
5
Recovering from the fall and taking to his feet, Harold looked around. Other than Bea and Max there was nobody else. He looked at Beatrice and with teary eyes told her what he saw…thought he saw anyway.
As they proceeded into the woods Bea rethought her opinion of Hare. They walked silently for several minutes, then Bea asked, “Do you think she’s dead?” Harold stopped, looked at her and replied, “I have no idea what to think.”
A bit deeper into the woods they spotted an old well, long covered over. Harold mused, this a good location to hide a body…if there was one to hide.
Finally, they came to an ancient fence. Max suddenly alerted to some unseen sound or smell. He started to run along the fence line, not quiet entering what would have been the home’s yard. Once he stopped, his tail wagging, he was looking at the front of the house, which remarkably after years, decades in fact, looked almost new.
Harold, Beatrice, and Max just stood there looking. Harold broke the silence “Bea, you know we have to go in, but if you want to stay out here with Max that’s fine with me.” “You gotta be kidding,” she replied opening the gate. Slowly they walked towards the porch. The yard was mostly dirt with areas of patchy weeds and, oddly enough, a pile of children’s toys.
As they stepped onto the porch Harold was expecting there to be dry rotted wood, however, everything looked not brand new but fresh. The door was a huge double style door with large glass windows fully intact, lacey curtains on the other side.
Beatrice knocked and Harold looked at her unbelievingly. “Really?” He turned the knob and the door creaked open. Inside was markedly different than the outside. There was peeling paint, wallpaper, and a musty smell throughout. In the hallway old rose splattered wallpaper appeared to be partially eaten away, possibly by mice or something more sinister. In a room right inside the front door, elves scrambled about the walls in what appeared to be a child’s playroom. It was in this room that they found what looked like a child diary with the initials CM on the tiny lock.
Harold quickly thought of little Christine Muller but didn’t say it out loud. He also struck this thought away as nonsense.
Beatrice asked, “What do you think Harold?” His reply was slow and thought out to keep his wife calm. “Local kids probably hang out here, and one of them left this behind”? Harold pointed to an old mattress in the corner of the room and an empty Jack Daniels bottle.
Farther into the old house they noticed that everything including the floors were dusty. This gave them a certain sense of relief in knowing nobody was creeping up behind them, but no solace in their search for Sarah.
After the first floor was searched Harold suggested splitting up, with one of the taking the upstairs and another the basement. Bea begrudgingly agreed, “But I am not going into the basement!”
Harold came to a door and paused; he listened to the stairs creek as Bea went up. The door had an old-fashioned crystal knob and although he did not mention it to his wife, he had noticed that the floor immediately below the door was free from dust.
He opened the door and paused, allowing his eyes to acclimate to the limited light from the narrow basement windows. Again, as he walked down the steps, he noticed the musty smell, this time stronger and almost comforting like a childhood memory of playing in his family’s basement.
He noticed several doors in a long corridor that stretched along the house. The first two doors were either locked or jammed with decay, the next appeared to be a storage room with old unlabeled bottles of wine, which may have been interesting in a different time.
As he entered the last room at the end of the corridor, he was sickened by the sweet smell of his childhood favorite, cotton candy. He had no idea why this came to mind, or if he was really smelling it. Pushing the thought out of his mind, he moved along. Suddenly he noticed a wide-open door shaped hole in the wall, barricaded with old bedframes and other items. Beyond it, he could see another set of steps leading downward.
It was at this time that he heard a scream from upstairs…
********
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Post by osnafrank on Oct 27, 2020 9:56:33 GMT
Submission by diobolic - Chapter 6
"Five exclamation marks, the sure sign of an insane mind." - Terry Pratchett
6
"Sarah!!!!!"
Beatrice’s voice. A high-pitched scream so taken with terror it would instill heartbreak in the coldest of men's hearts.
“Bea!” Harold shouted frantically, every hair prickling.
Without a second thought, he bounded upstairs, with the same vigor he had on Stillwater’s track team in his glory days. His loved ones, that's all that mattered!
Tripping on the final step, Harold took a gainer into a wall. His head hit fantastically hard! Shaken, he mustered his composure and rose. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he felt no pain, but did feel warm blood running down his ashen face. He wiped it away before it filled his eyes.
Seeing an open door, he followed footprints on the dusty floorboards. Inside Sarah was cowering in a corner, her head in trembling hands. Bruises were on her arms, obviously from a struggle.
“Harold” screamed Bea, her body backed up against the wall to his right, frozen. Gashes on her face, neck and arms, like from a wild animal. She saw the blood on his face and shirt but noticed "something else" too. She could smell Harold's blood... sweet...... a disgusting, almost fruity smell.
“I’m alright, just a dumbness.” as the words left his lips he thought, 'this is no time for my flippancy'.
He approached Sarah and put his arms around her.
Daddy always made everything safe.
She clung to him, “...g-ghost... Ghost!” the only words that sweet Sarah could mutter.
"Sarah! Let me see your eyes." Harold gently lifted her face, thinking God have mercy.
"Oh thank God, thank you lord... (Sarah's eyes, not black soulless holes) My baby's back and safe!"
Pained, Harold turned to Bea. "What happened!?"
Through sobbing, broken words and laborious panting, she said "Horrible... a ghost... she was real, with substance... all dark except for pale skin... blood red eyes... oh god... those talons... on powerful hands."
"I came into the room... there was Sarah... I reached out... and that thing appeared.... fought me back. When I stayed away it disappeared, until I reached for her again."
"It bit me on the shoulder. Hare, look! What do you see?"
Beatrice pulled back her blouse over one beautiful shoulder, revealing a deep bloody bite. And there ... an obscene disgusting substance mixed within the blood.
"It's alright. Not bad." But it was. Harold stayed calm and couldn't tell her the truth. Not now. It was time to get the hell out of Dodge.
No forewarning. The dark aberration exploded into the room! Stopping, smelling the sweet blood on Harold, it started toward him... but scented Bea's blood ... and her growing fear.
The ghoul sank black talons into Bea's leg. Harold saw blood squirting as they penetrated deep into her calf.
Pain exploded in Bea's leg, with a blinding whitening. Like electricity wired straight into her brain, resonating to every bone and muscle in her body.
Harold was torn. Help Bea? Protect Sarah? His mind raced.
Max had been missing, but he now scrambled into the room. Harold thought quickly and grabbed his collar. "Sarah! RUN! .... fast as you can for Paw's House!"
Sarah nodded eagerly.
Harold took her hand putting it to Max's nose, "Maximus! GUARD!"
He pulled Sarah to her feet. "Run, baby!" Sarah and Max got out, and Harold turned to Bea and the ghost.
Bea's knife; it had fallen out of her back pocket. He snatched it up, fumbled it open and hard as he could drove the blade into the ghoul's back. The fiend wailed monstrously in pain, but never let loose of Bea, digging talons into her arm... turning ... dragging her out, down the stairs.
Harold right behind, through the first floor to a wide heavy door, not far from the kitchens. The horror burst it open with a blood curdling shriek... and drug Bea into the dark... to the labyrinthine underbelly of the house.
Her body. Dragged over dusty floors. The sound of thump, thump, thump.... he knew it was the sound of the love of his life's body.
It was cavernous, not long in Harold lost sight of them. He could hear Bea screaming, in the dark... he couldn't tell where her voice was echoing from.
Then, the woman in white appeared, whispering "Hare...." raising a floating graceful hand, pointing in the right direction. Hare saw her face clearly for the first time. She looked just like Liz Taylor...
Sarah, Max right beside her, ran for Paw's house, like Daddy told her to...
********
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Post by osnafrank on Oct 28, 2020 9:38:39 GMT
Submission by wolf (filling in for Dizzy -  you Diz!) - Chapter 7
"And now," cried Max, "let the wild rumpus start!" - Maurice Sendak
7
...with Darlene's glowing white apparition gone, Harold realized how dark it was down in this cavernous underground. And he was only at the mouth of it. He reached in a back pocket for his phone, his fingers felt something sharp. When he pulled the phone out, he saw it was in ruins. Shattered at some point during the previous furious fray. His mind and heart raced. Then Phil's voice resounded in his mind, "Retrace your steps son. Remember where you have been." It was Phil's philosophy, he applied to almost everything. Harold realized he still had Bea's knife in his other hand. 'Had her phone fallen out of her pockets too?' he thought. He ran back to the room upstairs. Blood and disarray met his fresh eyes, he searched in desperation and spied Bea's phone in a sanguine puddle. Turned on its flashlight, but the battery said only 15%. That wouldn't get him far. He thought harder, remembering the mattress and the empty Jack Black bottle, he tore back down stairs to that room.
Eyes searching again he spied candles and an old flashlight. The flashlight didn't work, his heart almost sank. He flipped the mattress, and amongst debris found a box of wooden matches. Shaking it he heard plenty in it and sighed with relief. He snatched up the 3 candles, as he glanced out a nearby window. The sun was on its way to setting. He thought again, 'oh, doggo....get our Sarah home.' Harold ran fast back to where Darlene had disappeared.
Max had got Sarah out of the mansion and they made it to the other side of the small clearing. On entering the remainder of the wood between them and Paw's house, they heard frightening wails and shrieks. There were dire things in this wood too, as well as "the House". But these things were not as powerful or malevolent. Suddenly their trek was interrupted by a shriek, and then appeared a gray ghastly girl with black holes for eyes. She blocked their way. Max jumped in front of Sarah, hackles raised, and every tooth bared. The thing shifted in form, from child to mad doglike creature and crept towards Max. That's when something was triggered in timid Sarah. She'd been through enough today. And anger rose in her, she felt like Popeye. She'd had all she could take. The worm turned. But she was no worm, Sarah was a caterpillar that just turned into a fiercely majestic Monarch butterfly. "YOU STOP THAT! LEAVE US ALONE!!!" The sheer purity of her brave little heart and will power sent the haunt packing. It was silent around the pair of unlikely heroes then. Sarah felt her tiredness, her hunger, her pains and sadness again. She almost started to cry. But Max looked up at her, panting with a happy dog-smile, at his Sarah. "Max.... I want Paw." She hugged her good dog and Max led her back to Phil's safely, before the full night hit in.
Harold still had adrenaline going for him. He had to get to Bea. He darted back to the place he last saw Darlene. He was deciding what do about light, looking at candles and Bea's phone, when Darlene appeared again. She beckoned him, "Follow", she sighed to him. Hare said nothing but kept hold of his found light sources, as the good ghost's glow lit his way. She took him deeper down in the house's bowels to a dank foul-smelling room strewn with bones. She picked up what looked like a human femur with a broken sharp end. With sad eyes and smile she told him, "Fight it hard, Hare. The wound! Bea is changing. The dark entity wants her! It wants her body, so it can live again. Kill the dark thing and save your wife!" Harold remembered the seriously grave shoulder bite and could only nod. The weight of Darlene's words and his heart had quietened him profoundly.
Darlene lit his way, leading him to a chamber where, unbeknownst to him, Bea was a drooling, glossy eyed prisoner. His BeeUh... who was rooms away, (no, she was still cellars away), not only heard him coming with her razor keen new ears. She smelled him coming. Harold's blood. Still exuding the sweet ferociously attractive rotted fruit smell....... she scented it and growled gutturally...
*******
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Post by osnafrank on Oct 29, 2020 7:42:13 GMT
Submission by thekidd12 - Chapter 8
"Please allow me to introduce myself..." Sympathy for the Devil - The Rolling Stones
8
The last thing Jerry Cragstan could remember before the muzzle flash was lounging in his leather Lazyboy fighting the effects of tryptophan caused by his second helping of his wife Nadine's almost perfect turkey. Almost perfect only to Nadine. Jerry couldn't get enough of her Thanksgiving cooking. It was one of the things that led him to finally propose after almost five years of off and on courtship.
Howie and Terry were interrupting Jerry's midafternoon siesta by telling him how this year was going to be different for Mr Jones' Cowboys. Terry especially liked their chances today against...
In the dark of the cellar of the Muller house the flash from Jerry's Glock 17 9mm was almost blinding.
Oh shiet! I just shot a professor!!!
The man in the houndstooth jacket (who wears those anymore?) holding a candle for God’s sake, was on him in what felt like a millisecond and yet lasted a lifetime.
Jerry recoiled from the screaming pain of 6 inches of Japan steel sliding in between his ribs. Blood gushed onto his already gravy stained shirt. Swatting at the man with the butt of the Glock, Jerry felt his world swimming away. A misty something was emerging from his own mouth leaving a combination of blood and death. And the smell. Jerry vomited, blood mixing with Nadine’s last turkey he would eat decorated the dimly lit floor.
Harold had found his way to what had to be the last room of this labyrinth of spider webs and hardened mud walls being led by the aura of Darlene and the small amount of light provided by his candle. Entering into this larger space he was greeted by a sight he couldn’t quite comprehend. Jerry Cragstan, the basketball coach at Stillwater High was standing mid room. A pistol pointed directly at Harold. Yet Jerry wasn’t exactly Jerry. His eyes were replaced by dark orbs just as in Harold’s vision of his beloved girl. Harold didn’t think. Rolling to his left he hurled himself to the floor, somehow avoiding the bullet that whistled past his head. As he drove the knife upward into Jerry’s midsection a whoosh of air, like a tire being punctured by a nail, filled the room. As Jerry fell forward past Harold the air gained form. Harold didn’t know ghosts could scream but the one leaving Jerry did.
Bea watched all this through eyes clouding over with the green ooze that was slowly making its way through her bloodstream. No emotion but only primal instinct coursed through her as she watched the smelly human cause pain to her Father with steel. Father was screaming but he would be with her soon. All he needs is another skin suit. Father always would be with her.
And yet…
The human was approaching her. Smelly human. Teeth showing. Making noises that were familiar somehow. Smelly human. It was a good smell to Bea. A smell that made her hungry…
******
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Post by osnafrank on Oct 30, 2020 8:39:22 GMT
Submission by mary - Chapter 9
“Quiet people have the loudest minds.“ - Stephen King
9
Not long after Max and Sarah made their way back to Paw’s house, Max alerted to someone calling to him. It wasn’t a calling with sound like the family members used. But he knew it was the woman he had met near the tree-line near the back yard. She had talked to him in a way he understood. Now she needed his help.
After Max knew Sarah was safe inside, he started a lope toward the strange house where he knew the others would be. When he arrived at the house, he made his way to the room where Darlene was. The house was so dark inside, but Max used scent to guide himself through the rooms until he found the right one.
Darlene was so grateful that Max had answered her call. She patted him on the head and told him what they needed to do. They shared the ideas in a sort of telepathic way instead of spoken words.
Darlene had been watching the awful events from the dark shadows of the room. She felt a huge compulsion to stop what was happening and bring Bea out of whatever trance she was suffering, so that her two children wouldn’t end up motherless. Darlene was still remembering the pain she endured after the loss of her children.
Darlene and Max edged their way toward Bea and Harold. Bea had just noticed Harold. Darlene stepped close to them trying to get their attention just as the two of them sensed something near and noticed Max. Bea’s face froze for a second.
Bea became a little more aware of her surroundings noticing Harold and Max. She wondered how she got there or why. In the next second, she realized she had no idea where her two daughters were. As Bea touched Harold’s shoulder she asked, “Can we just get out of here and go home”. Besides, she realized she was getting hungry and couldn’t remember when they had eaten last. The other entities around the room were fading out and self-involved anyway.
Harold was helping Bea up from the floor, when...
******
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Post by osnafrank on Oct 31, 2020 9:29:57 GMT
Submission by @kurben - Chapter 10
"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." - Martin Luther King, Jr.
10
Harold was helping Bea up from the floor when he heard a laugh echoing through the room. It didn’t seem to have an origin in a person, the room laughed at them and not in a kind way. Bea’s eyes started to glaze over again, and her recognition of Harold and the real world started to fade away.
“Do you really think that any of you are going to walk out of this room?” it said and laughing coldly again. Harold hated that laugh. It had an inhuman quality that uneased him and he could feel Bea going limp in his arms. Max growled low behind him.
“Who are you?” Harold said, looking around wildly.
“I am Father, the entity that long ago possessed this house. People that come here are in my domain and I use them as I see fit. That worthless piece of flesh...” a big green blob of spit came flying through the air and landed on the empty shell of what had once been Jerry Cragstan. “…was my tool to kill you but he failed me. No matter, I will soon have another body to do my bidding”
Harold tried to move but found his legs and feet were powerless, as if they were glued to the floor.
I must win time somehow, he thought. This Father character is an arrogant son of a bitch. Just keep him talking…
“How did Jerry get here?” he asked.
“Jerry??” A bewildered note in the answer.
“The corpse on the floor! The Man I Just killed!”
“Oh, that. He was a fool! He came here two days ago with books and things, planning to talk to Darlene and make her go away. He hadn’t reckoned with me, so I ate his soul. I’m afraid you’re giving the house a bad reputation, my dear Darlene. I haven’t had nearly as many souls as i would have liked these last few years. But that woman's soul is soon ripe … I look forward to that!”
“You’re not touching my wife”
“Enough talk, my Little Chickadee. Time to Die!”
******
Back at Paw's house Justin and Phil were talking.
“You say they went over to the Muller house? “
“What I gathered from Sarah before she fell asleep is that Bea and Harold found her there. Admittedly she wasn’t very clear.”
“Hmm…. I don’t like that. They may have encountered foul play. I’m calling for backup first then heading to the Muller house directly. Better safe than sorry.”
“OK, and Justin...”
“Yeah?”
“Good luck! You’re a good man”. They shook hands and Justin went off towards the Muller House.
When he arrived it was quiet. Too darn quiet, he thought. It was if birds and trees and insects had stopped everything to watch a show. An expectation hung in the air, an expectation of something bad. He slowly entered feeling creepy feelings running up and down his spine. Then he heard a bark. Is Max here? he thought. He followed the sound downstairs, down to the basement that was black - blacker than the inside of an undertaker's hat as his Pop used to say. He fished out his flashlight and advanced slowly into this dark womb of a basement. He felt like he had left the land of the living and was going further and further into a place that mortals very seldom left once they entered. The darkness was thick, and he thought it was almost like walking through a slippery thing, like a jellyfish or something and he could feel the dark attaching itself to him. “Why the heck did I take this job” he wondered but continued because it was his duty, and Justin was a very loyal and dutiful servant of the law. And Harold was his friend. He reached a door and on the other side heard someone say: “Time to Die!”.
He threw the door open and saw Harold holding a nearly unconscious Bea in his arms and saw Max behind them. In a corner he saw something shimmering and recognized what must be the ghost.
“Harold! What the heck is going on?”
“Justin! Watch out”
Just as Harold uttered his name he saw and felt a black entity envelop him. He dropped his gun and his flashlight when he felt an incredible pain behind his eyeballs. In his frenzy he started to claw at them he could feel his own finger going deeper and deeper into his eye. After a while there was a sploshing sound and his left eyeball bounced to the ground. Harold stared at it and saw something wormlike attached to the eye and realized it had to be the synoptic nerve, Justin had just ripped his eye out of his skull! That realization was followed by another bouncing sound when the right eyeball joined the left on the floor. Harold looked up and saw Justin's mouth move with his thumbs deep inside his skull. “I tried,” Justin said and then he dropped like a rock.
The black entity slowly left him and the room seemed empty. Then, surprisingly to Harold, Justin rose and sat down in a chair across the room.
“Justin! You’re alive! How...“, his voice died out because he knew when the thing that had been Justin turned his head and looked at him that Justin was gone. Harold had actually no idea what to do, were they going to die in this lousy basement?
Then he heard a whisper: “The only thing that can kill an evil being of such power is Love. And then I don't mean the love of children or spouses, I mean sacrificial love, the willingness to give up one's own life for the people you love.” The mouth that whispered was Bea’s but the voice was that of Darlene. “I am not connected to that thing. I remained behind because I miss my children so much and wanted to be close to things that remind me of them. Bea is so far gone now with the poison in her veins that she won't survive. I know, I died the same way, but she can still make the sacrifice. And so can I. I'm ready to go to the other side now.”
“But…”
“She’s right, Harold” came a strained whisper this time in Beas voice. “You have to be there for Carolyn and Sarah and I’ll gladly give my life for them not to be orphans”
“But how…”
“I and Bea jump him at the same moment. I give up my ghost form, Bea will give up her life and then there will be a battle of the spirits, but we will win”. This time in Darlene's voice.
“What can I do?”
“Survive. It's gonna be messy”.
With her last powers Bea took a leap at Justin, Darlene right behind her both knowing it would be their last moment on earth as we know it. Both died very quickly as the dark entity ripped at them with his talons, but their spirits kept fighting. What Harold saw and heard was cries of agony and that horrible laughter booming through the room. Then, from behind him, Max leaped into the action. He loved Bea, Carolyn and Sarah to hell and back and if he could help, he would give his life to do so. The entity might have overcome the spirits of the two women, but this animal was fierce, its love was so pure and unselfish and his will to protect huge. The fight started to have visible effects on the house. The door collapsed when the hinges gave way and the floor and walls creaked like the wooden beams would fall down around them. There was a boom, a blinding light and Harold heard things falling around him. Harold looked and saw the darkness give way, he saw Bea lie in a heap on the floor with horrible wounds and he saw Max panting, heavily injured beside her. Max looked first at Bea, then at him with a look that held so much love that Harold became teary eyed. Then Max gave a last yelp and died.
Harold looked around. He looked at Bea and Max, knowing he couldn’t leave them. He took Bea in his arms and laid Max on top of her and started to carry them out. When he left the house, he wondered who won this battle really. The entity was dead but so was Bea.
He laid her down on the grass outside.
“Did we win” came an almost inaudible voice.
“Bea! You’re alive!”.
“Max saved me, saved both of us. He dragged me from death's door and offered himself instead. I could hear him speak!”
“Don’t speak, don't waste your strength”.
Harold looked up and saw flashlights in the woods.
“Help is on the way.” He bowed down and kissed his now unconscious, but alive, wife on the nose. “You did it, Bea. You beat the devil!”
THE END
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you Diz!) - Chapter 7