As Stuart finally got the generator going outside, the roar of the machinery filled the quietness of the night, and the lights inside the cabin came on all at once. Carl looked on in drunken and frightful stupor at the pale and emotionless face that was inches from his own. Her legs that had been limp and hanging over the bed only moments before were now wrapped tightly around his own, her inhuman strength crushing him. She wrapped her small arms around him, and as he tried to push her away, he found he was now the weak one, her grip like iron. She bit down hard and urgently, his blood oozing out from the small punctures her teeth left in his neck, her hunger taking over her as she greedily took in every last drop of his scarlet essence.
Carl tried to scream but only a whimper came out as she drained him. The generator steadily hummed along, muffling his pitiful cries for help. His body fell to the floor, crumpling under her small body. The young woman’s hunger for blood was only partially satiated. She also craved the taste of revenge. As the door to the room began opening, her dark and angry eyes stared wildly at what was coming next.
* * *
Stuart came in through the back door, having finally calmed himself enough to come back inside. He would be second in line to have his way with the little tease, always smiling at him when he went through her cash register. He knew she wanted him most anyways, so she wouldn’t mind waiting for him he thought to himself as he put the rest of the beer away in the fridge.
As he was putting away the last few bottles, he heard a loud thump coming from the bedroom followed by a groaning sound. “Carl, ya alright in there? Ya ain’t banging her up too much I hope. Save some of that pretty ass for me.” Stuart started to make his way towards the bedroom door, a beer in hand. He cracked open the new bottle of brew and flung the cap across the kitchen floor. He heard another groan. This time it sounded like his brother, but not his usual self.
Curious, Stuart approached the bedroom door and opened it slowly. Shock swept over him as he looked at the scene before him, dropping the beer bottle to the floor-boards, and sending bits and pieces of brown glass and the foamy brew in all directions. Carl was sprawled out on his back on the floor at the foot of the old bed. The young woman was straddled atop of him, hunched down with her head cradled in his neck, her wild eyes staring Stuart down.
The single overhead bulb shone a bright and hard light down onto the pair. As Stuart began to tremble, she got up on her feet and hissed, splattering Carl’s blood into the air as her long teeth protruded out of her mouth. Stuart noticed the puncture marks on his dead brother’s neck and looked up at the girl, her bloody mouth proof of what had just occurred. “Fuck me! Vampires don’t exist!” he exclaimed, starting to back away from the bedroom.
In a nearly inaudible and soft tone of voice, the young woman replied “I would have said the same thing a few hours ago.” With this said, she pounced with such speed and force onto Stuart’s chest that he never had time to process what was happening.
Never having expected such a powerful force from this tiny woman, he staggered back a few clumsy steps. The struggle only lasted but a brief moment, his face as pale as hers in fear of what was about to become of him. She forced his head in an unnatural motion, snapping his neck with such force that he slumped to the floor with her on top of him. At once her sharp teeth punctured his still warm neck, the pulsing of his aorta growing weaker and weaker as the blood flow now poured into her mouth.
* * *
The night sky had cleared up nicely by the time Tom had gathered up the second load of firewood into the wheelbarrow. He looked upwards at the hundreds upon hundreds of stars and the full moon that shone with all its might. The path now well lit for his walk back towards the cabin, Tom pushed the wheelbarrow steadily, determined to finally join in on the fun inside the cabin. He kept muttering to himself as he went along, still fuming that he was always the one having to collect firewood. Carl had insisted on having the wood pile as far away from the cabin as possible. “Tough guy, afraid of snakes in the wood pile. Maybe he ain’t that tough after all.”
As he kept muttering to himself, his foot brushed up against something on the ground near the truck. Tom let go of the wheelbarrow and turned around to see what he had stepped on. Crouching down, he picked up a small wallet, dirty from the dust in the driveway. Having wiped away most of the dirt, he opened it. He assumed it was the young woman’s and that it must have fallen out of her jacket when the brothers carried her out of the truck.
Tom flipped through it, not finding much of anything. Thirty-eight bucks, a few receipts, and her photo ID card. He looked over the card and said aloud, “Marlee, huh? So that’s your name. Can’t wait to have my fun with you bitch. Oh, you’re gonna scream for me tonight.” He stood and started back up towards the cabin. As his eyes glanced upwards, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Standing on the front porch a few yards away was the tiny woman the brothers had carried into the cabin not so long ago. Her face was contorted into a deranged grin; her cheeks and chin were blood-covered, dripping down onto her opened white jacket and tank top underneath. Her hair even seemed matted with a thick coating of dark liquid. No doubt more blood. As the breeze made the leaves shiver, it also carried with it a distinctive aroma. Marlee picked up on the smell and her eyes narrowed as they fixated on the man she had been about to feast upon. She sensed something different about this man, something that she hadn’t sensed from the other two. She dared not feed on him, but she had other plans for him.
She smiled at Tom from up the porch steps and exclaimed, “Who’s gonna scream for who, bitch!?”
Tom dropped the wallet and its contents on the ground and turned to run away. He hardly had time to take half a step before Marlee was on the ground, her force multiplied from her recent feedings. As her small body rushed and tackled the last of her abductors from behind, the impact snapped his back instantly. His back broken, the blow sent him flying through the air, some twenty feet down the driveway, where he bounced like a rag doll before coming to an abrupt stop in the dirt. Tom’s body lay contorted in the driveway in a grotesque position. Both his legs were spread out to one side, his feet nearly touching his upper thighs.
He felt no pain. He noticed the dirt rising into his nostrils with each breath he inhaled. When he tried to lift his head, he realized his body wouldn’t budge. Marlee stood where he had just been a few seconds earlier, laughing mercilessly at his predicament. He watched her as she slowly turned and made her way to the old Ford truck. The keys in the ignition as they always were, the young woman powered up the engine and Tom felt the vibrations of the truck’s powerful engine on his cheek, which was involuntarily pressed against the driveway’s dirt. Tom looked on, horrified, as the young woman put the truck in gear and made a quick U-turn in the driveway. The headlights now shone directly into Tom’s face, blinding him temporarily. He closed his eyes.
The truck was a good thirty yards away from him, but he felt the vibrations on his cheek growing as steadily as the fear that welled up in the pit of his stomach. She started towards him, the truck slowly inching closer. The anger that had build up inside the young woman’s body rose up and exploded outwards as she uttered a long wild scream of agony. Her foot pressed hard on the gas of the old Ford and up it came at full speed towards Tom. Panic and horror filled his very soul, but he was unable to move. When the smell of the tires wafted into his nostrils, he closed his eyes as hard as he possibly could, and for a split second, the crunching sound of his skull collapsing unto itself under the weight of the truck’s tire resonated into his ears.
* * *
Driving down Idlewood Pass, there came an old blue and white Ford pickup truck. It passed a porcupine that was crouched in some bushes on the side of the road. The full moon hung overhead, casting a veil of light that shone on the face of the lone occupant. So small was the young lady that drove the truck, she was barely able to see over the steering wheel.
M
arlee, a tiny young thing, had originally been from Idlewood. She had graduated this past year from Idlewood High, and had started working at the Clarkston Liquor Store recently to help her mother pay the mortgage. She had been a quiet girl, shy and reclusive. Her cats had been her closest friends throughout her childhood. She had held a deep appreciation for animals and had never hurt a living thing in her life, until tonight. The new, blood-seeking Marlee held absolutely no compassion for any living thing. She couldn’t afford to anymore as compassion might mean her death and the need to feed would prove too strong. Her mind was foggy and her memory of that day a haze. She could not remember whom had done this to her. She tried hard to remember and mere bits came back in flashes. Blind with rage she drove wanting revenge. She felt her body become stronger after having just fed. Her senses too grew sharper. Somehow she knew her memory would follow, she would be able to remember where and how it had happened to her. This curse that seemed fiction not long ago, stuff of movies and books.
The truck revved up faster as she felt the strength well up inside her. A trail of dust and rocks spat out from behind the truck.
The porcupine ran back into the deep woods to hide from the metal monster that carried the night predator away into the darkness.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Angella Jacob grew up in St. Antoine, New Brunswick where she developed an interest for reading and writing from a very young age. Her curious nature about everything paranormal and mysterious carved the inspiration for her current passion of writing horror and mystery stories. Angella is a mother of two boys and also a freelance graphic artist.
Pierre C Arseneault grew up in Rogersville, New Brunswick, where his strong imagination helped form the creative individual he is today. Pierre has been published as a freelance cartoonist, publishing in newspapers since 2004.
Dark Tales for Dark Nights is the first print publication that the pair of collaborative writers have made available for their readers. Both authors currently reside in the greater Moncton area of New Brunswick, Canada.
Table of Contents
INTRODUCTION
SOMETIMES THEY COME AT NIGHT
SOUL MATES
THE RIVERTON BIGFOOT
MAYHEM AT THE HENDERSONS
HENRY
THE GIRL FROM IDLEWOOD
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Dark Tales for Dark Nights Page 8