Weirdbook 32

by Douglas Draa

  “No,” Meg’s upper lip curled slightly. “You didn’t.”

  Howard laughed, smacked the table top with a hand. “That was funny. I like a woman with piss and vinegar.”

  “That sounds quite disgusting, Mr. King.” Meg had a stern look in her hazel eyes. She knew her day would not go right this morning when she noticed her jar of wrinkle cream was empty. She let Dorothy have it. What kind of maid doesn’t buy refills of wrinkle cream? At Meg’s age, it was extremely vital, and at sixty-one, it was getting harder to find available men that were rich enough and successful enough to car for her.

  “Mr. King,” Meg leaned in slightly. “I’m sorry to say this. But I really would like to be alone. I don’t feel like company right now.”

  Howard shrugged. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. That poof Bernstein didn’t show and you’re a little burned right now. I get it. Maybe I can lighten the mood,” Howard’s hand just happened to find its way to caress Meg’s knee, and it just happened to rub ever so slightly, up and down.

  Meg smiled. She nodded. “I see,” She said, took another drag of her cigarette. Meg brought her cigarette down underneath the table and stabbed the lit end into Howard’s hand. He withdrew it quickly and howled. He blew on his shaking hand. All eyes were on them now. “I’m so sorry, Mr. King. My hand slipped.”

  Howard smiled a toothy smile, laughed. “No problem. So did mine.”

  “If you will excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. Me too. Uh, hey, toots. I’d like to see you again.”

  Meg stood, pushed her chair in. She picked up her bag, then handed Howard her cigarette. “I’m here every day, Mr. King. Perhaps you can catch me.”

  “Perhaps,” Howard said and placed the cigarette between his chapped lips. “Perhaps, toots.”

  * * * *

  Meg and Bernstein was leaving a show in the village when they saw Howard King leaving an apartment building. “Well.” Bernstein said. “Look who it is.”

  Meg tapped on the back window of her limo and the driver rolled it down just enough to hear her. “Turn around, William and drive past that apartment building on Hamblin Ave. But drive slowly, please.”

  “Oh my God,” Bernstein scoffed. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” Meg answered in a raspy voice she used when she was frustrated. “I’m just curious.”

  “Meg, dear. You are simply obsessed with this man.”

  “Oh shut up, Lew,” Her upper lip curled slightly. “You are so critical for a man. I think you are a woman trapped in a man’s body.”

  “If you aren’t obsessed with Howard King, then why do you keep telling that story of when he molested you at the club?”

  “That’s not obsession, Lew. It’s simply a damned good story…”

  The limo eased by at the pace of a turtle. There was Howard King, drunkenly trying to fit his key into his Volvo, missing the keyhole, dropping the keys—recovering them, and starting the whole process over again until a middle aged woman in a robe, trotted down the small flight of stairs. Her hair was in disarray and her makeup looked as though she’d just been jogging hundred degree weather. The woman bent down, snatched the keys from Howard and took hold of his tie. She led him back up the small flight of stairs and back into the apartment building.

  Meg was dumbfounded. “That was Connie Severson” She announced. She blinked a few times before a sour look crossed her face.

  “Go back around, ma’am?” The driver asked.

  “No, William,” Meg said in a depressed voice. “Take me home so I can drown in a bathtub of vodka.

  * * * *

  There was a knock at Meg’s door. The night hadn’t yet ended for. She was still on her sofa where she had passed out. She had dismissed her servant girl hours ago after a tirade over an empty bottle of scotch was broken. The servant girl said her good night and retired to her bedroom. The rapping was loud and echoed in her ringing ears. Groggily, Meg rose slowly, nearly falling down. She dragged herself to the door and opened it angrily. Meg found Howard King standing in the hallway, a silly grin on his face and a bottle of wine in his hands.

  “You called for Dr. Love, toots?” He said. Pushing his way inside.

  “I didn’t call anyone,” Meg said, slightly confused. “Why are you here—and you just think you can barge in here?”

  “Oh you called me,” He laughed, tapping the side of his forehead. “Using this. Saying you need love and a party—oh. I see you already started without me. I hope you didn’t finish.” He kicked two wine bottles out of his, sat on the couch heavily.

  “If you don’t leave, I will be forced to call the police.” Meg whispered in a humble voice. Her confidence was breaking down.

  “You won’t do that, toots. You like me too much.”

  “Mr. King…”

  “No.” He stood, took two quick steps toward Meg. He pulled her in his embrace and dipped her. Meg gave out a slight whimper. “Call me Howard.” He leaned in close and pressed his lips to hers.

  * * * *

  Bernstein shook his head and clucked his tongue, rifled the newspaper from page to page. He let out a gasp, then shook his head. Meg sat across from him at a corner table at the club’s restaurant. She was dressed in her green sequined dress with a very revealing neckline and even more revealing slit at the knees. She wore a long feather boa that draped from her neck and laid around her shoulders. Meg was looking to get attention, most notably from Bernstein. But he kept his nose buried in that newspaper, not paying her any mind.

  Meg tore the newspaper from Bernstein’s hands. “That’s quite enough from you, Mister.” She bawled it up into a ball and tossed it over her shoulders.

  Bernstein’s eyes widened. His hands shook as he fumbled his words. “What do you think you are doing…?”

  “I have been sitting here for ten minutes and not once…”

  “…I was reading that! It’s important to our circle!”

  “…And you have not commented on my dress!”

  “It’s ridiculous,” Bernstein turned away from her.

  “Ohhh,” Meg faked tears. “How can you say that? It hurts me so.”

  Immediately, Bernstein felt terrible that he had said such an awful thing to the one friend he is so close to. Even closer than his poor aging mother. He reached and took her hand in his. Bernstein smiled. “I’m so sorry, Meg,” He rubbed her hand gently. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Oh, Lew,” Meg bit her lower lip. “What has come over us? The past two weeks have been so strained. I’m sorry, too.” Bernstein removed his hand from Meg’s. He looked away. “Your dear mother, Lew…what is the matter?”

  “I know that I have been behaving badly,” He said. “Meg, darling, you are the best friend I have ever had, apart from mother.”

  “Oh, I know that,” Meg patted Bernstein’s hand and laughed. “Your dear mother,” Meg took a cigarette out and tapped it on the table to pack the tobacco in tighter. “How is she—have you seen her today?”

  “Of course,” Bernstein scoffed.

  “I know she had been sick for quite a while. I thought—well, maybe she took a turn for the worst is why you’ve been acting—strange?”

  Bernstein’s face twisted up like he’d just eating something sour. “The way I have been acting…? No, Meg. Four times you have called off our dinner dates in the last two weeks, showing up late here at the club. Frankly, you’ve been obsessing again, over Howard king.”

  Meg was shocked. He had went too far now. “How dare you? You should be happy for me. I have finally found a soul mate.”

  “Meg, darling. I would be, if it was anyone else. I have something to tell you about our Mr. Howard King. It effects our group of friends.”

  “Oh Pshaw, you are my only friend. Not those old fools.”

  “In any case, it affects us. I was
just reading in the papers. An odd connection between Howard King and the women he’d been seeing this past year? Five elderly women this year have passed away mysteriously. Five years ago it was six other elderly women. Their families are calling for an investigation.”

  “How did they die?” Meg was now slightly concerned. She guarded her neck as if some imaginary hands were around them?

  “They have died mysteriously…but the coroner’s report said it was natural causes.”

  Meg’s hand relaxed, moved it to her knee. “Oh. Had they signed over their fortunes to him?”

  Bernstein sighed, his face flushed with embarrassment. “No. They have not.” He thought a second. “I guess I’m being silly. Really, what concerned me was the death of Connie Severson. We just saw her two weeks ago. Very upsetting—Meg? Are you alright?”

  Meg was not alright. She was taken aback by this news. Even saddened that her old rival was gone from this planet. She swallowed hard, fought back a few tears. She forced a smile. “Yes. Yes, of course I’m…alright.”

  * * * *

  Howard sat on the side of Meg’s canopy bed, grabbed his trousers. She massaged his hairy back with her foot, hoping to coax him back into her arms to make love one more time.

  “Where are you going, Mr. King?” She cooed.

  “I got another appointment, toots.” Howard said.

  Meg sat up and threw her arms around Howard. “You never explained what line of work you’re in.” She kissed his neck, then his ears.

  “Nothing really to explain. I’m into selling rare and exotic goods.”

  “Such as?” Meg prodded Howard. That was one thing Meg was good at, was getting to the bottom of something if she was curious enough.

  Howard turned around, smiled at her. “Rare air,” He said, removed her arms from his neck.

  Meg was perplexed. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You wanna know?”

  “Yes,” Meg replied. By now she was getting more than a little annoyed. He was being cryptic and she didn’t like for people to be cryptic.

  “You really wanna know?”

  “Yes! Damn it!”

  Howard eased Meg on her back, made sure the pillow was comfy under her head. She laughed. “Oh, Howard. What are you doing?”

  He placed a finger over lips. “Shhh…” He whispered. “No talking during the demonstration.”

  Meg stifled a laugh. He then parted her lips with his forefinger and thumb. He bent down. Meg closed her eyes, ready to receive a kiss. Instead, she felt a horrible pain in her lungs. Her body began to tremble. She reopened her eyes and saw the color in Howard’s eyes were no longer brown, but the color of brimstone. She saw mist drift from her lips and into a long vile. Meg’s arms floundered as she struggled to catch her breath.

  * * * *

  Howard king took the vile from the inside pocket of his red and green checkered blazer. Smiling, he looked at it and shrugged. “Not bad,” He said. He handed the vile to Bernstein.

  Bernstein adjusted himself in his chair. He grasped the vile carefully and sighed. “Really,” Bernstein said. “We are going to have to find a new set of friends, Mr. King.”

  Howard nodded and laughed. “I think I’ll have lunch at the club this afternoon. Care to join me?”

  Bernstein popped the top off of the vile and leaned in to the bed where the frail skeletal naked body of his mother lay. He forced open her sunken in lips and allowed the mist to flow between her bone white chalky lips. Her black eyes fluttered and a limp hand shook slightly.

  “I can’t,” Bernstein said. “I have to stay and take care of mother.”

  NECROMANCER’S LAIR, by Chad Hensley

  Broad catacombs with giant spider webs

  Lead to a subterranean gallery

  Where a vile underground stream slowly ebbs

  And ghastly, ghoulish shapes drink with hot glee.

  Here, he sits and smirks on skeletal hands,

  Emerald eyes glowing brightly beneath cowl.

  His tattered robes crawling as he commands

  The spectral dead to perform deeds most foul.

  Floating maws filled with serpentine fangs twitch.

  Tiny men with reptilian scales flap wings

  And screech in praise as the corpse of the witch

  Rises out of putrescent earth and sings

  The glory of the Necromancer’s reign -

  Eternal loneliness his only pain.

  THE CHILDREN, by J.E. Álamo

  “The children, save the children!” She screamed.

  He detested her, it was a crimson boiling sensation; she was safe and cozy in their shelter while he was attacked. She insisted and he closed his mind to the contact, there was no time for distractions. But she was right: if he lost the children, life would be worthless.

  He leaned against the rocky wall of the gorge where he had been ambushed. He had already hidden the children, who were weeping in terror, behind a huge boulder away from the assaulters. He seized the double-headed axe and braced himself for the battle.

  They saw him and roared for blood. Two charged without waiting for the rest. It was simple: a swift movement to the left caught the one who was closer and he flew spreading his viscera. The second followed the fate of the first when the blade whirled back, and the corpse collapsed on the spot alas its head rolled a few feet to the right.

  They decided to attack all together. The proximity of their prey after the long hunt made them reckless. They thought their strength was in their number and hoped to finish him even at the cost of severe casualties.

  That was a mistake. They would not make another.

  He dropped the axe.

  He snapped one´s neck with a powerful kick. He gutted three more with his bare hands. They fell without uttering a sound. They were tough. He was tougher.

  A sharp word from a red bearded brute made them step back and break up in two groups to take him from both sides. He decided it was time to reveal his true nature, tired of pretending what he was not. A mental command and he vanished into thin air. Silence fell as a shroud, but was immediately shattered by a thunder clap when he came back. His enemies hesitated, fear struck their hearts just as he had expected. Alas, they would recover and attack again, but those few seconds were all that he needed. He finished them in a swirl of fangs, claws and shrieks. Then he licked the blood from their bodies with delight and opened his mind to her.

  “My dearest one, the children are safe. We shall not endure a harsh winter.”

  There were no words in response, but he felt a sudden feverish sensation. She was happy.

  He opened his broad, leathery wings, took the cage with the weeping children in his claws, and flew towards the shelter.

  ▲

  THE HELM, by Chad Hensley

  With big sulfur smoke puff, the imp vanished.

  Two-horned barbute of jet black, glist’ning bone

  Lands on my hairless head, I am banished

  With shower of blue sparks, I’m all alone

  On distant subterranean sea shore,

  Waters begin boiling, churning dark waves,

  An elephantine eye rises to soar

  Thrashing with tentacles that shall enslave.

  Each tendril’s tip a human mouth to scream.

  White laser beams shoot from my day-glow eyes.

  The enormous orb melts in glist’ning steam.

  The black helmet nods in heated surprise

  As occult ardor fills me with power

  I am pulled back towards the spine tower.

  THE RADIANT BOY, by Kevin Wetmore

  Wednesday Night

  The night held no terrors for Ray. The stars were old, familiar friends. Late at night, right before bed, was his favorite time. He would take Galileo for one last walk around
his Santa Monica neighborhood and enjoy the stars. The dark did not scare him; it was the only time to see the heavens as they truly were.

  Ray was thinking about tomorrow’s lecture for his Introduction to Astronomy class as he pulled the leash to get Galileo to move on from the garbage can he was sniffing. They had turned down the alley that marked the last leg of their late night walk. Tomorrow’s class was something Ray always did right before Halloween. He was going to lecture on the Pleiades and their connection to Halloween. It was an excuse to add some fun, scary stuff to class in order to keep their attention.

  As they walked past the Ridgeway’s house, Ray noticed a young boy in the space between garage and wall between the houses. The boy was looking down. His face glowed in the light of what Ray assumed was a cellphone. His first thought was that it was odd that a child this young would be out this late. It was only then that he noticed the boy’s clothing. It looked old fashioned.

  The boy suddenly looked up at Ray. His eyes were empty, but immediately seemed to fill with sadness. Ray realized that Galileo was growling, his ears flat against his head.

  “Settle down, boy!” he said, tugging on the leash and looking at the dog. “I’m sorry, you must have startled…” and when he looked up the boy was gone. Ray figured the boy had turned around and walked back to the other side of the garage. He wondered if the boy was a relative visiting the Ridgeways.

  Upon reaching his garage, Ray opened the door and passed through. Coming out the other side, he let Galileo off the leash. The mutt bounded across the short yard, past all the toys, and went up the steps to the back porch, his tail beating time as he waited for Ray to follow and open the door.

  Finishing his nightly routine, Ray closed and locked the door behind him, Galileo bouncing off to sleep on Robbie’s bed or under Lucas’s crib. Ray double checked the front door, then went to his own bedroom where Claudia was up reading.

  “How’d it go out there?” she asked, looking up over the glasses she only wore when she read.