Monsters & Demons: A Collection of Short Horror Stories

by Brian Rella

  ***

  “Is that the last of them?” Jessie asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the mover said as he went to the truck and placed the last box in the back of the box truck. He reached up grabbed the strap hanging down, and pulled the door closed.

  “Wait. Could you open it again, please?” she asked. The man grumbled as he slid the back door of the moving truck open again.

  Jessie reached into the first box on the truck floor and pulled out a book. She needed something to read on her flight. She looked up at the mover to thank him and found he had an annoyed look on his face. “Don’t look at me like that,” she said nastily to the mover. The mover looked frightened and put his hands in the air. Jessie calmed herself before she spoke to him again. “How long will it take you to get to Chicago?”

  “About fourteen hours, give or take,” he said.

  Jessie smiled. She was flying there tonight. At the back of Arraziel, she had uncovered a hidden map of the world. The map showed no country borders, just topography, but there were markers on the map with strange names all over the world. What looked like Chicago on the map was the closest. Pasmet, was the name written on the coast of what looked like the long finger of Lake Michigan—right near Chicago. Jessie intended on finding the next book, and taking it for herself.

  “Good. Don’t take too long. I’ll see you there,” she said and dropped the book in her bag and got into the waiting taxi.

  “Airport. I’ve got a flight to catch.”

  CLICK-CLACK

  TALIA WAS FREEZING even with a T-shirt, a sweat-shirt, a fleece, and the covers pulled up to her eyes. This was the worst romantic getaway ever.

  Click-clack-click-clickety-click-fwoooop!

  That's the third time! What the hell? Talia kept hearing this strange noise on the roof. As if the cold and the noise weren't bad enough, now her mind raced with any number of explanations as to what might be going on above her and James in the tiny shack they were sleeping in.

  Acorns? No, even I know what an oak tree looks like and there are no oak trees near this cabin.

  Pine cones? It's autumn. Pine cones fall from trees in autumn, right? There are a lot of pine trees around here. Talia's inner voice chided her at her ‘expert knowledge’ of trees.

  Click-clack-clackety-click-click-click-fwooooop!

  Come on…What the hell is that? Tree debris? Well, that might explain the click-clack, but what's the fwoooop! sound?

  A bird? Maybe it’s a giant bird? Wait…what if it’s not a bird? What if it's a bat? I hate bats! She shivered at the thought of bats flying above her, with only the shack's sagging ceiling between her and a blood-sucking bat.

  Why am I the only one awake? How is James still sleeping? I swear he could sleep through an earthquake. This is ridiculous. There could be some wild animal on the roof. I don't even want to be in this shitty cabin. I hate camping. I hate the woods. Why couldn't we have gone to a hotel for the weekend? It's freezing in here. That's it! If I hear the noise again, I'm waking him up.

  Talia closed her eyes and cuddled close to James. He was sleeping like a log. Snuggled in his nook, she tried to relax.

  Click-clack-click…God damn it!

  "James," she whispered. He didn't move. She nudged him.

  "James!" she whispered louder and poked him. His breath caught and he stirred, then started snoring.

  "James!" she shouted, whacking him so hard on the chest that her hand started tingling. "James, get up. Hey! Get. Up."

  "Huh…wha…what? What the hell, Talia?" he said.

  "There's something outside," she said.

  "What? What are you talking about?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

  "There is something like, I don't know, something tapping or something on the roof. It’s been going on all night, not that you've noticed. I've been up for like an hour and I'm getting scared," she said.

  "I don't hear anything," he said. "Go back to sleep. It's probably the wind."

  Go back to sleep? Go back to sleep! "James Murray! If you don't get out of this bed and check what's going on outside, it’s going to be a long, cold weekend for you in this cabin!"

  She narrowed her eyes and tightened her lips into a thin line. There was no way she would be listening to that racket all night. He better get up and do something about it. Right now!

  "OK. OK. I'm up. See?" he said as he rolled over her and got his feet on the floor. "Damn, it's cold!"

  "Yeah. It's freezing in here," she said. "Put more wood on the fire while you’re up." She was pissed at him, and wanted to be warm and wanted the noises to stop; but really, really, she wanted to get the hell out of here. She had only agreed to this trip because he had wanted to come. He knew she hated camping and outdoors stuff—that was his thing, not hers. He found this shack in the woods on his hike with the boys last month and brought her here as some kind of a romantic gesture. At first she thought it was sexy, but now that she was here she knew his idea of a romantic getaway sucked! She thought he should know her by now. They'd been together five months, for God's sake. He should know she liked expensive hotels, with king-sized beds, and plush towels; a shower, room service. Not a…a shack…in the damn woods! She really needed to think about where this relationship was going and if they should even be together.

  Click-clack-clickety-click-click-click-clack.

  "There! You hear it?" she said. "What the hell is that, James? It's freaking me out!"

  James was at the stove, throwing a few logs on the fire, and stirring the embers with the poker. "I hear it," he said. "Whadayou want me to do about it?" He sounded annoyed.

  "Damn it, James, go outside and make it go away, whatever it is!" she said. Why was he being such a jerk? Just go out there and shoo it away!

  She watched him slowly move around the cabin. Cabin? Ha! This wasn't a cabin. It was a one-room shack; two rooms if you considered the closet-sized bathroom a room. And thank God it had an indoor bathroom. It was barely four walls and a roof, crumbling inside and out. Inside, there was a crappy wooden table with two chairs, a wood-burning stove that doubled as a heater and a hot plate, a creaky old bed that sagged and had brown stains all over it, and a musty old couch that should have been thrown out in 1975. It was a dump. There was nothing romantic or pleasantly rustic about it. The more Talia thought about it, the more she had had enough and wanted to leave right now. If we stay together, this is going to cost you big time, James! Dinners, day spa, oh—and sex? Yeah, it’s all about me for a while.

  She stared at him, miffed, as he shuffled to the one window and looked outside. "I can't see anything." He seemed hesitant at the window. He glanced back at her. Talia could see worry creeping in around his eyes. He turned to the counter, opened the drawer, pulled out a flashlight, and went to the window again. He clicked it on and pointed it outside. From where she was sitting on the bed, Talia couldn't see out the window.

  "Its foggy out there. I can't see an inch past the window." He glanced back at her. She could see that he didn't want to go outside. He took a step back to the bed.

  Click-clack-clickety-click-click-click-clack-clack.

  He stopped mid-stride. His face pleaded with her not to make him go. Talia was insistent. "James!" she said. "Go shoo it away and then I want to get out of here. I'm scared!"

  "OK. OK. I'll go out there and check it out," he said reluctantly.

  Her eyes followed him as he tip-toed to the door. Talia suddenly felt nervous. She changed her mind. She didn't want him to go outside. Maybe it will just go away. She couldn't put her finger on what she was feeling, but her intuition was telling her they should stay inside.

  "James," she said. "Wait, I changed my mind. Don't go. Come back to bed. It'll just go away on its own…maybe."

  It was his turn to look angry now. He grunted, opened the drawer again, and pulled out a revolver. He held it up for her to see and smirked. "I got this."

  "Where'd you get that thing? Be careful," she said.

  When he opened the d
oor, Talia saw a wall of white. Puffs of fog crept in across the floor of the cabin, creating ghostly shadows in the dim light from the stove.

  "James…" she said.

  He looked back and shrugged at her.

  Click-clack-click-click-click-clack-click-clack…

  Talia's gaze followed the noise as it moved across the ceiling toward the front door. It seemed to stop right above where James stood. They stared at each other, then at the ceiling. James took two steps out the door.

  "James, wait!" she said.

  Two claws from above grabbed James by the shoulders and pulled him into the air. Talia heard a screech. The flashlight crashed to the ground, rolled a few feet from the door, and stopped, its beam angled into the fog. The gun dropped next to it. She heard James yell, then another screech, fainter, and higher above the cabin.

  Talia screamed and pulled the covers to her chin. What the fuck was that! Oh my God! James! James! "Jaaaaames!" she cried after him.

  There was no reply. Not even a cricket chirping. Just silence. The door was still open and the fog was coming toward her. Talia dropped the blanket and covered her mouth to muffle her shrieks. Oh my God! What was that? What if it comes back?

  Terror motivated her to action. She flew off the bed and to the door. She scooped up the gun and light, grabbed the door, and began to slam it shut. She heard the screech above her again and froze. Whatever it was, it was close.

  From above, she heard branches creak and crack and break. Tree debris rained down. James hit the ground with a thud, his body twisted at an awkward angle. Part of his arm, streaked with blood, fell into the cabin doorway, blocking it from closing.

  Talia screamed and slammed the door again and again trying to close it, but James' arm was in the way. She heard the screech again. It was nearly on top of her.

  Click-clack on the roof. She stopped slamming the door on James' arm and gaped at the ceiling.

  Click-clack-click-clack across the roof and toward the door. She kicked James' arm out the door, and with a moan slammed the door shut and backed away, pointing the gun at the door.

  "Leave me the fuck alone!" she yelled. The creature screeched in reply and then there was a thud outside the door. She listened intently, and it sounded like the animal was dragging James' body away. Then Talia heard crunching and snapping and tearing. She gagged and stumbled backwards into the wall, smacking the back of her head, and falling to the floor. She quickly sat up and pointed the gun at the door. Her arm shook, her eyes wild.

  Click-clack-clickety-clack-clack-clack on the roof again. A screech and another screech in reply. No…it can't be…two of them? Talia sobbed and heard a bang at the door. Then another and another.

  There was no way out, nowhere for her to run. She scanned the room frantically for somewhere to hide. Something to crawl under, into, anything. The creature kept crashing into the door. Fog slipped through the crack between the door and the floor. There was nothing she could do. She had only one chance to save herself.

  A sudden calmness overcame her. Her arms stopped shaking. Her eyes narrowed. She focused on the door, looking down the sight of the revolver. The door burst open…

  The creature had six legs, three on each side of a long, thick thorax. It stood on its hind and middle legs and cocked its head at her. Two red globes stared at her while its mandibles moved arrhythmically. Its wings unfolded from behind it and spread the width of the room. It flapped them, gusting wind and fog toward Talia. The giant insect reared and shrieked at her.

  Talia steadied her aim, fired, and missed. She fired again, and hit the animal below one of its forelegs. It roared and charged her, its legs click-clacking on the cabin floor. She fired again and hit it in the eye. The beast fell to the floor and slid to a stop a few feet from her. Black glop oozed from its eye. Its wings fluttered in short sputters, then stopped.

  Her eyes flitted to the door. Through the thick fog, she could see the shadow of the other critter charging. It rushed through the door. Flesh—James' flesh—dangled from its jaw. It opened its mouth and she fired. The shot went high and through its wing. It kept coming. She kept firing. The next shot grazed its head.

  Then it was too late. The beast was on her. It grabbed her with its foreleg pincers and held her in the air. It pulled her close and opened its mouth. Talia could see remnants of James' flesh in its maw. She shoved the gun into the creature's mouth and squeezed the trigger. The shot blew the back of its head out. They fell to the floor, Talia still in its grasp.

  Talia yanked her arm out of its mouth and kicked away from it. She scampered across the floor and out the door. She dashed through the woods, branches clawing at her arms and face, screeching for help.

  ***

  "Click-clack-click-clack, hahahahaha!" she cackled. She was laughing hysterically and was faintly aware of the men binding her arms and legs to a stretcher. She lay her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was looking up at the tall tree branches arching over the road like a tunnel against a flat, gray sky.

  "How long has she been out here, you think?" a man wheeling the stretcher to the ambulance asked.

  "Who knows. A while, from the look of her," the other man said.

  "Pine trees," Talia said. "It's not pine cones falling from pine trees. Hahahahaha!" She felt a prick in her arm and suddenly felt very calm and relaxed.

  She stared at the branches high in the trees above her as her mind swam. She saw a shadow in the treetop; a familiar shape. Her eyes fluttered, trying to focus. The shadow in the tree spread its wings. Her eyes went wide and she began to cackle again as the door to ambulance closed.

  LEGION

  “IT KEEPS FREEZING, that’s the goddamn problem,” Pierson shouted, his face turning red. He left his mouth open after he spoke, which gave Roy the unfortunate view to the inside of his maw. Pierson had cavities all the way back and on both sides of his mouth.

  Roy was transfixed on the matted metal of one of his molars as the whispers started.

  Wouldn’t you like to shove a rag soaked in gasoline down there and light it on fire? Roy shook his head at the question whispered in his head.

  “What are you shaking your head at?” Pierson asked. “You don’t see it? You tech guys are all the same. Stand there and watch.”

  Roy was jolted out of his thoughts. “Um, OK.” He locked eyes with Pierson and could see the glare of the lights from the screens on the trading floor reflected on his glasses. It was like looking through a flashing rainbow halo. The lights looked pretty, Roy thought, but it was a strange juxtaposition against Pierson’s furious face. Pierson was the angriest trader on the floor and Roy’s most frequent customer.

  Roy turned his eyes back to the screen to watch for the freezing that Pierson said was happening to his trading program. The freezing, and therefore the technology, was why Pierson’s profit and loss was down for the second month in a row. It was always technology’s fault somehow, as if bad markets and bad bets by traders in the multi-trillion-dollar global equity casino had nothing to do with their poor performance.

  “There!” Pierson exclaimed. “You see that? When that happens, my workstation freezes up. I can’t type an order in and I miss the market. That costs me money.”

  Roy honestly didn’t see anything, but his ear itched. He stuck his finger in it to scratch it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black shadow dart across the row of desks and turned to see what it was. He didn’t catch it in time and when he turned back, he saw Pierson giving him a disgusted look.

  “Well?” Pierson said, clearly annoyed.

  Grab that pen and stab him in the neck, the voice whispered. Roy’s eyes moved to the shiny, thin-barreled Le Blanc sitting on Pierson’s desk, which probably cost more than Roy’s rent. Yeah, that’s the one. Make the shiny gold stick out of his fucking neck and watch his blood spurt all over his fucking workstation. Go on, Roy. Reach for it. Show this fucker he can’t talk to you that way. Show them all. He won’t know what hit hi
m.

  Roy itched his ear again. The itching had started when the voices had, about six months ago—right about when Pierson started at the hedge fund where they both worked, Sterling Capital. Roy stared at the pen on the desk until he felt the heat of Pierson’s glare, and then darted his gaze back to the trader.

  “Yes,” Roy lied. “I see it. It’s probably a video card issue. I’ll have a look after the market closes. Sorry about that, Pierson.”

  “What do you mean, after the market closes?”

  Roy was confused. Didn’t he understand that he’d have to take his workstation apart and replace the video card? Was he asking him to do that now? During trading?

  Dial this fucker up, Roy. He doesn’t know shit about what you do, let alone respect it. Grab him by his long, brown mane, tell him what a fucking asshole he is, then jam that pen in his neck and let’s make a crimson river right in the middle of the trading floor!

  Roy ignored the suggestion and pulled at his ear lobe. “Well, I’d have to turn off the PC and switch out the video card and I didn’t think you’d want me to do that during market hours.” Sweat was forming on his balding head and he wiped at it messing up his combover, making it stand straight up.

  Pierson glanced up at the top of Roy’s head, chuckled, and tapped his neighbor, Sam, on the shoulder. “Hey, Sam. Check this clown out.” Sam glanced over, rolled his eyes, then went back to work.

  Roy smiled foolishly, enjoying the change in demeanor in the trader. Pierson must have noticed because his face went dark again.

  “What the fuck are you laughing at?” Pierson said. “Do you think this is funny? Do you think it’s funny that I’m losing money? Who do you think pays you? It’s me. That’s who. Me and all the other big swinging dicks around here.” Pierson looked him up and down. “You’re a real disaster, you know that? Go look at yourself in the mirror. Have some goddamn self respect, moron.”