Pleasant Dreams

by Krystal George

  ~'~,~'~

  Cheryl Casey is an artist and writer. Her book One Good Redneck Mama, a humorous look at rattlesnake safety, fending off bullies, and dealing with psycho drama queens in the heart of Texas, hit the top 100 in family relationships the first week of its release. Find it here https://amzn.com/B00AM7W2UW on Amazon.com

  Cheryl also writes and illustrates children's books and designs book covers, including this one. Her pre-designed book covers are for sale at https://www.ccrbookcoverdesign.storenvy.com

  Midnight Snack

  By: Amanda Alberson

  ©2013 by Amanda Alberson

  Titus looked across the room at his little sister. Her round eyes alert as she looked back at him. Lightening cracked outside, throwing long shadows across the wall and causing them both to jump.

  “Titus, I hungry.” Adelaide whispered.

  “I know but I heard something downstairs, hush.”

  He tried to think of a plan, but the crashing thunder and Adelaide’s whining distracted him. Staying home alone with his sister seemed like an easy thing to do. Although it took him over an hour to convince their parents he could handle it. Honestly he expected a boring night of watching T.V., eating snacks and ordering his sister around. What he had not expected was a sudden storm, a power outage and strange noises from downstairs. The power blinked off only moments earlier as he and Adelaide headed down for a quick bite. In the darkness Titus heard the rattle of the backdoor knob, then the unmistakable sound of someone shaking the door, testing the bolt lock. His breath caught in his throat as his heart swelled like a balloon, threatening to burst. Adelaide’s tiny hand squeezed his as she looked up at him with fearful, anxious eyes. He forced a deep rattling breath into his clenching lungs and put on a brave face. Still holding his sister’s hand in his he couldn’t help but notice her fingers were still plump with toddler chub, her skin impossibly soft. He looked down at her, she was just a baby and it was his job to take care of her, storm and strange noises be damned.

  His foot barely touched the top step when the sound of shattering glass almost stopped his heart. Scooping Adelaide up into his arms he rushed back towards his room.

  “Titus.”

  “Shh, Adelaide, it’s okay.” He could feel her heart pounding against her thin chest. Her small body shook in his arms. The sound of the backdoor creaking open echoed up the stairs making the hairs on his neck and arms stand on end.

  “I’ll protect you Addie I swear.” He quickly whispered in her ear.

  Gently, he deposited her into the folds of his comforter, before running to the closet. Using the baseball bat he’d hit two homeruns with last season he dislodged the hidden panel in the ceiling that led to the crawl space attached to the attic.

  “Come here Addie.” He said quietly into the darkness. Hesitantly Adelaide moved off the bed, whimpering as she made her way to him.

  “Addie I need you to hide up here in my closet. I know it’s dark and scary but it’s the best place. Do you understand?” He held her tiny head in his hands, rosy, round cheeks pushed between his fingers. Lightening flashed reflecting in her giant brown eyes, exposing the tears gathering in them.

  “Um hmm, but I still hungry.” She pouted.

  “I’ll go get a snack, just wait here.” Titus said as he handed her the small camping lantern he kept on the shelf. Titus would never admit it but he used the lantern often when he woke up in the middle of the night with a dire need to pee. Grunting he hoisted the quivering mass his sister had become up to the top shelf. From there she scurried into the dark hole in the ceiling. Titus waited impatiently for the panel to fall back into place before gripping the bat tighter and heading towards the stairs.

  Billy stepped around the glass on the floor and tried to see into the inky darkness of the house. He’d been casing the place for over a week, and got a lucky break when he saw the people leaving before the storm. The power outage was just an added bonus, a sign that tonight was his night. He listened carefully as the house moaned against the storm, water rolled from the short tips of his hair streaking down his face. Somewhere there were two kids still in the house, probably still asleep. Billy reached into his back pocket pulling out his favorite knife. He flicked open the razor sharp blade and crept towards the living room. If he ran into the kids he’d take them out slowly. A smile tugged at his thin cracked lips, part of him hoped he would run into them. Billy thrived on the pain and fear of others, and nothing was more pure than the fear children felt. His insides quivered with perverse joy as he recalled his very first murder. His smile widened as the memory rushed over him in the dark. The crash of thunder outside reminded him of the sound of the trains he’d loved so much.

  Every day after school little Billy Weiser walked through the train yard on his way home. He loved the rumble of the trains and the organized chaos of the multi-line switching station. His very favorite spot though was further back, a make shift train car graveyard full of busted up old rail cars and a rundown wooden shack. Billy spent most of his afternoons wandering around the old train yard or sitting in the shack, anything to kill time until the sun went down. Once the sun dipped below the horizon Billy knew his father would be exhausted from beating his mother and so far into the bottle he’d be passed out, that was the only time he was safe.

  One particularly hot afternoon Billy spotted a girl walking through the train yard. She was older than him, a freshman in high school, he guessed, with long blonde hair and tight jean shorts. When she saw Billy she hesitated. The knees of his old jeans were worn out and his face was dirty from exploring the empty cars.

  “Hey are you okay?” She asked stepping towards him. An idea formed in Billy’s small brain. He tried not to smile as he willed tears to form in his eyes.

  “I was down here playing with my dog and he ran off after something, will you help me look for him? Please.” He looked up at her and tried to use the same big pleading eyes he’d seen his mother use on his father. They never worked on Bill Sr. but they drew the girl closer to him.

  She followed Billy through the yard, back towards the old empty shack. He stopped every few feet and hollered for a dog that didn’t exists. When they stepped into the shack he caught her off guard, slamming a piece of busted pipe against her knee. Her body dropped to the dirty floor, her eyes wide with fear.

  In his excitement he killed her all too quickly, bashing her repeatedly in the head with the pipe, relishing in the tiny whimpering sounds she made each time he struck her. Over the years he learned to control his emotions, learned the power of pain and the pleasure of the pitiful pleas of his victims.

  Reaching out into the darkness Billy sneered as he pushed a lamp from its perch.

  Titus froze two steps from the bottom of the stairs when he heard the crash just feet away. He nearly dropped the bat, his palm slick with sweat. He listened closely, the sound of quick, ragged breaths; excited breaths, filled his ears. Titus’s nose wrinkled, the person, mostly likely a man from the stench of him was just around the corner. Crouching low he crawled into the living room on three legs, making sure he held tight to the bat. His heart pounded erratically in his chest and he prayed the man in the house couldn’t hear it. He prayed even harder that Adelaide would stay hidden and that his parents were on their way home. He should have called them as soon as the power went out, but he didn’t want to look like a baby, so he was on his own. Slowly he crept across the Oriental rug sidling up to the end of the couch. The storm receded and the lightening came less frequently, his eyes adjusted to the darkness around him. Standing just at the opposite end of the couch Titus could see the lanky silhouette of a man. In the darkness he looked like a mere shadow.

  “I can hear you breathing kid, come on out, I won’t hurt ya.” The shadow called. Titus’s skin crawled, he could hear the evil sneer wrapped around the words that reeked of lies. Titus hated liars, almost as much as he hated this poor excuse of a man that stood in his home threatening his baby sister and
himself. He tried again to form a plan. He had some advantages on his side, he knew the house and its crawl spaces, he knew the loose board to the basement, the one he hopped over each time he went down the steep steps. An idea grew, if he could get the man to chase him down the hall and into the cellar, maybe he would trip and fall. When he was on the ground Titus could attack him, hurt him and hopefully keep Addie safe.

  Titus took a deep breath and stood, his fingers locked around the smooth grain of the bat.

  Billy nearly gasped in surprise. The damn kid just popped up outta nowhere. Judging by his height he couldn’t be any more than 12. Billy flicked his tongue across his lips, he’d have the boy hollering for his momma in no time. He waited just for a moment to see what the boy would do. He tilted the knife in his hand, hoping the steel would catch just a hint of light so the boy would see it shine in the darkness.

  “Come here boy.” Billy sneered.

  “Get outta my house mister, now.” Came the reply.

  Billy was shocked at the steadiness in the boy’s voice. So far he wasn’t showing any fear, but that would change soon enough. Billy faked to the left making the boy run to the right. In two quick steps Billy cleared the couch and caught him by the collar. He let the cold tip of the knife touch the soft part of the boy’s throat.

  “Where you headed boy?” Billy laughed, tracing the thin line of the boy’s collar bone with the point of his blade.

  “My name’s not boy, it’s Titus, and I warned you to get out of my house.” His voice was steady but his small body shook in Billy’s grip. The game had begun.

  “Where’s that pretty little sister of yours, Titus?” He asked leaning down close to the boy’s ear.

  “She’s not here, she went with my parents.”

  “Aww, now Titus, we both know that’s not true.” Billy let the tip of the knife slide across the thin skin at the top of the boy’s arm. His grip tightened on the collar when the boy gasped, the smell of iron began to fill the room.

  “She’s such a tiny little thing isn’t she? You wanna know what I’m gonna do with her when I find her? Or do you want to figure it out from her screams?” He dragged the knife across Titus’s arm again, forcing another gasp from him.

  A low growl escaped Titus’s lips just as he grasped the man’s arm with both hands. His nails bit into the soft flesh around Billy’s wrist. When he heard the knife clatter to the floor he sank his juvenile incisors into the arm. Billy grunted in pain striking out at Titus with his free hand. The blow caught him right on the side of the head causing a burst of stars to fill his vision. He clamped down harder, feeling the skin break and the warm blood to run down his chin. Repulsed, Titus refused to let go. Billy snatched him by the hair trying to shake him loose, but Titus was on him like a leach.

  The man tasted terrible, his skin felt slick with rain and sweat. Titus fought the urge to gag as his tightened his jaw. His head pounded, his vision still blurry when the man struck him again. Falling to the wood floor jarred him but his teeth continued to gnaw the man’s arm.

  I’ve got to make it to the cellar, he thought to himself. When the man bent down in another attempt to free his arm, Titus threw his head back with as much force as he could. The sick cracking sound reverberated in the living room. As the man clasped his face trying to dam the rush of blood from his newly broken nose, Titus bolted towards the kitchen. His bare feet slapped against the cold tile. The rain was no longer falling outside but the floor was still wet from the broken window. Titus jumped hoping to clear the water and broken glass on his mad dash towards the cellar door. Pounding feet and mumbled curses followed him closely. His trembling hands grasped at the knob, rotating at it furiously, before he realized it was locked. Frantically he turned to grab the key from the fruit bowl on the counter. The key slipped from his quaking hands and clattered into the darkness. He turned to dash through the dining room when the shadows shifted.

  “BOO.”

  Titus ran into the man, yelping as he backpedaled towards the kitchen. Hollow laughter followed him across the wet tile as he turned back into the living room. The slow, heavy step of the man echoed from the kitchen. Titus ducked into the hall closet, pulling the door closed as quietly as he could. Surrounded by his parent’s winter coats and his father’s golf umbrella Titus fought to control his breathing. The sounds of footsteps stopped and he couldn’t tell if the man stopped moving or if he’d stepped onto the carpet in the living room. Every muscle in Titus’s body clenched in fear. Beads of cold sweat rolled down his back leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. He sat and waited to be found.

  Billy’s blood boiled. Not only did this kid, this freaking little K-I-D not shown him the fear and respect he deserved, he’d broken his nose. He’d learn his lesson though, that was for sure. He stood looking around the living room. There was no way the kid had time to make it up the stairs, so he had to be down here somewhere. Billy began whistling a low, mournful tune, something his father would whistle as he walked through the house, hunting for his next beer, or victim. He stalked past the stairs raking the tip of his blade along the wooden banister. He came to the master bedroom, the door left slightly ajar. He kicked it open, laughing maniacally. Nothing moved in the darkness of the room so he continued on, dragging the knife along the wall. A smile crept across his thin lips.

  “GOTCHA!” He yelled as he jerked open the closet door. He grabbed the boy up in a flurry of jackets and unused junk.

  “Did you think you could hide from me, boy?”

  The boy glared back defiantly at him, Billy tried not to lose control. Snatching a handful of short brown hair he jerked him out of the closet, shaking him for good measure.

  “Let’s go find that baby girl, whaddya say?”

  Titus became a whirlwind of arms and legs, thrashing and lashing out at Billy. He dragged him to the bottom of the stairs, where Titus grabbed at the railing and tried to pull himself free.

  “Hey, little girl, I got your brother down here. You better come save him!” Billy shouted up into the blackness. The stairs creaked beneath his feet and he dragged the still fighting Titus up into the darkness. He paused at the crest of the stairs listening for a sound.

  Titus held his breath, praying that Addie would stay where he told her. His scalp burned and his heart raced as they both waited.

  “I told you she’s not here asshole.” Titus growled at him through gritted teeth.

  Without a word the man dragged Titus back down the stairs and tossed him on the couch. Titus tried to spring to his feet but a mud covered boot landed squarely on his chest, keeping him down.

  “Let’s play a game then, since it’s just you and me.” The man sneered at Titus and he felt his stomach drop. Even in the dim light the silver blade glinted turning Titus’s insides to ice water. He looked up into the man’s dead eyes trying to memorize every detail of his face. If he lived through this he wanted to be able to point him out.

  Dirty, short, black hair, dead washed out blue eyes, paper thin white skin, and weak, cracked lips. Titus chanted the description in his head over and over.

  Billy jerked one of the boy’s legs up off the couch, holding the squirming foot in the air. Cold steel slid against the bottom of the foot. Titus gasped but did not move.

  “Here’s the game, we see how many times I can cut the bottom of your foot before you starting howling and your sister comes running downstairs. And that’s when the real party starts.” Billy threatened, still sliding the blade up and down against his foot.

  Bile rose in Titus’s mouth. He steeled himself against the thought of what this man would do to his baby sister as the cold blade slid across the width of his foot where fire broke out spreading a searing, white hot pain that took him to the brink of unconsciousness, but he did not scream. Titus bit his lip, tasting the blood as it seeped into his mouth. He refused to make a sound, he knew the man was getting angry, the fingers wrapped around his ankle were digging into his skin. He
hoped he would pass out before he screamed, if Addie stayed in the closet she would be safe and that was all that mattered.

  A storm of rage clouded Billy’s thoughts. This kid should be screaming, he should be begging, he should be offering his sister for a moment of relief and yet he lay perfectly still, mouth clenched shut, his own blood trickling from his foot and his lip and not a word. Well, Billy was up for the challenge. He knew how to make the boy break. His fingers curled into the cotton T-shirt and jerked Titus into the sitting position. Billy knelt down eye to eye with him and smiled. Wiping the blood off on the couch cushion he brandished the blade millimeters from the boys right eye.

  “You ever seen an eyeball pop?” He sneered. A look of absolute terror filled the boy’s face. That’s what Billy was looking for. He smiled even wider as the blade poked at the edge of Titus’s eye. Caught up in his own sick game of torture Billy didn’t hear the sound behind him. He never would have known what hit him if he hadn’t caught a glance in the reflection of the boy’s eye. A tiny figure raised a bat behind him and swung.

  Titus almost shouted when he saw Adelaide appear behind the man. His heart came to a screeching halt in his chest causing it to ache. Then he watched as she raised the bat, her hands choked up almost past the handle. The hardwood crashed against the man’s skull causing his eyes to roll up into his head as he crumpled to the floor.

  “Run Addie! Head to the cellar.” Titus hobbled behind her as she dashed towards the kitchen. His foot screamed in protest, leaving angry pools of crimson everywhere he stepped.

  The house remained quite as they skittered toward salvation. He scrambled in the dark and found the key on the floor. It slid effortlessly into the lock and turned, clicking loudly. Addie flipped the light switch on the wall in vain as Titus pulled the door closed behind them. The inside of the door only had a thin slide bar lock, an illusion of safety in the face of the danger coming for them. The cellar was dimly illuminated by the moonlight glaring through the small web filled windows. Titus carefully guided his sister down the steep steps.

  “You okay?” Adelaide asked, her lower lip jutting out as she stared up at her older brother.

  “Yes, it’s just a few scratches, they’ll heal up in no time.” He assured her.

  “What were you doing downstairs, why didn’t you stay in the closet?” Titus asked her as they descended into the basement. He lifted her carefully over the broken step still waiting for an answer.

  “He said you needs savin. So I came save you.” The soft ringlets of her hair hung damply, framing her face and Titus fought the urge to kiss her forehead like their mother always did.

  “Thank you Addie, you’re my hero.” He chuckled softly.

  “If we’re extra quite I think we’ll be safe, do you want a snack now?” He asked moving towards the walk-in pantry door.

  “No,” her head shakes emphatically left to right, “tummy too sacred for snacks.”

  “Okay, we’ll wait.” He moved towards the sofa, pulling Adelaide up next to him and wrapping them both in the blanket his mom kept thrown over the back. The minutes dragged, every sound, every creak or moan the house made caused them to jump and scoot closer together.

  Billy shook his head, trying to clear it out. His heart pounded in his temples and everything looked blurry. Gripping the edge of the couch he rose slowly to his feet. Inhaling sharply Billy ran his hand lightly over the lump on the back of his skull.

  Damn kid swings like Babe Ruth

  Testing his steadiness Billy stumbled toward the kitchen. He knew exactly where they went, and when he got his hands on them they’d be sorry. He sneered as he followed the smeared bloody foot prints through the kitchen to the cellar door. The knob turned but the door refused to open. Rage engulfed him, like a caged animal he roared and threw his entire body against the door, thrashing and kicking.

  Adelaide screeched as the sound of the basement door imploding rang through them both. Titus dragged her to the furthest corner, cursing the “security” bars his father placed over the windows last summer. The full moon mocked him, hanging freely just on the other side of the glass and iron. He was still glaring at the moon when Addie was ripped from his grasp. Titus turned on his heel, horror nesting in his chest as he watched the man lift her from the ground.

  “Look what I caught me.” The man jeered. Addie kicked and whined as she hung several feet from the cold concrete floor.

  “Let her go, I won’t run from you, I won’t fight, just let my sister go.” Titus stepped towards them both.

  “Oh no, sorry, no bargaining here. I owe this one a good knock to the head.” He shook her small body with each word. Her brown eyes held Titus’s captive. The man reached back to strike her, Adelaide braced for it and howled loudly in protest. Titus’s world got small in an instant. The walls closed in and all he could see was his sisters screaming face. He thought of his mother and father, he thought of the promise he made Addie earlier, to protect her.

  A scorching fury replaced all of his fear. Adrenaline flooded his muscles. He growled with rage. Addie and the man both stopped and stared in disbelief at him. His whole body burned from the inside. When he licked his lips he could taste the air around him, it was thick with fear and sweat. His bones creaked and popped, his skin itched and felt tight around his muscles. His heart that only moments ago raged against his chest now beat with a strong, slow rhythm. His vision became sharp as he stepped towards the man holding his sister. His muscles quivered with each step, a new strength pulsing within. He howled furiously at the man. With each step the man seamed to shrink, Titus felt taller, stronger. Somewhere far off in the night two dogs bayed at the moon making Titus smile, his parents were coming home. The look of fear and confusion on the man’s face and triumph on Addie’s was the last thing Titus remembered.

  A cold cloth woke him. Someone was wiping his forehead and whispering to him gently. Titus lurched up, every inch of his body screamed in pain.

  “No, no lay down honey. It’s okay. We’re here.” His mother’s hand brushed lightly across his cheek.

  Tears burst free from him, followed by deep, infuriated sobs. All of his fear, all of his anger, everything poured from him as his mother rocked him gently.

  “Where’s Addie?” He pushed away from her, frantic, desperately trying to remember what happened.

  “She’s in the kitchen having a snack.” His father’s voice called from the doorway.

  “Dad! There was a man, and he broke the window! He chased us, he had Addie!” His mother sobbed as he recounted what he could remember.

  “I know son. You did a good job.” He father sat on the edge of his bed and ruffled his hair.

  “Come to the kitchen, Addie’s been worried about you.”

  Titus moved slowly, his body ached with every step. He felt as if he’d fallen from a moving car, down a hill and into a rock pile. Addie sat at the kitchen table smiling from ear to ear as he approached.

  “Titus!” She swiped her hand across her mouth smearing cherry red across her rosy cheeks. Seeing her standing in the kitchen her tiny curls bouncing as she ran to him brought it all back. He turned towards his father a smile tugging at his lips.

  “I did it?” He asked.

  “Yep, youngest in the family son, wait until Uncle Fergus finds out.” His dad clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Snack, Titus?” Addie asked holding out the severed index finger of the man.

  “Don’t worry I washed it,” his mother laughed seeing him curl his lip at the finger.

  Titus smiled taking the finger from his little sister as he kissed the top of her head.

  “I told you I’d get you a snack.” He laughed.

  He crawled into bed that night, his body exhausted but his smile persisted. He would be the youngest in the whole pack to transform before his 16th birthday. The youngest werewolf in all of North America, maybe the whole world.

  Thanks for reading our horror anthology I hope you enjoyed it
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  I have one published book 'Losing Connor' and plenty more on the way! You can find more examples of my work at www.rayneedazewriting.weebly.com and you can contact me at either mandy.alberson@gmail.com or on FB at https://www.facebook.com/RayneeDazeWriting

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