by Chad Lutzke
Kyler looked out the makeshift window. The black spot on the grass had been replaced by a two-foot deep hole.
“Look at the lawn! They…beamed down right there!”
Shawn gave Kyler a confused look and held back more laughter.
“My mom!” Kyler yelled. He threw open the door in the floor of the tree house and descended down the ladder with reckless speed. Shawn followed, taking the rungs with more caution. As Kyler’s feet hit the ground, his father called out behind him.
“Hey son! Well, how’d you guys do up there last night?”
“Where’s Mom! Is Mom okay?” Kyler said, his voice filled with panic. He looked at the hole in the yard and saw a pile of dirt and a shovel.
“Yeah, buddy. She's fine. She's in the house. Want to help me with the fire pit? Trying to have it done before your birthday party tonight.”
No way was I dreaming.
“Mom!” Kyler sprinted for the house. His focus was on the dining room table. Through the glass he could see the decor sat undisturbed. “Mom!”
Mrs. Tessal opened the slider and greeted Kyler outside. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
"Mom! You're okay!" It had all seemed too vivid to be a dream. Kyler hugged his mother.
She squeezed him back. "Of course I am, honey. I was just cleaning the kitchen."
Kyler stood back and studied his mother. It had been a dream. He made himself the promise again. No more horror movies.
"Mom, I had this dream. It was awful."
Kyler's mother gently grabbed his shoulders. "Honey, look at me. Today is your birthday. Leave the bad dreams behind. This is your day. Grandma and Grandpa are coming over tonight to bring you some presents, and I say we go open some right now."
Still confused but convinced, Kyler nodded in agreement. "Come on, Shawn. Let's see what I got."
Kyler turned to his mom. "Mom, can you make some brownies tonight for dessert?"
"You know Mother doesn't like to bake. How about some ice cream for dessert?" She patted Kyler on the head and walked back into the house.
Kyler's stomach churned like a blender full of bile and ice.
Shawn edged him toward the door. "Come on, man. Let's see what you got!"
"Shawn, did you hear that? What my mom just said to me?
"Yeah, bummer. I was hoping for some brownies too. Extra chocolate."
Kyler’s mouth gaped open. He starred wide eyed at his friend and swore there was a slight movement in his pupil or perhaps a change in color.
Shawn urged him through the doorway. “Come on. Let’s see what you got, birthday boy.”
Notes on Birthday Suit
The dialogue in this story was some of the most fun I've had writing. I have many memories of building forts with my friends and going on little adventures. The world was ours. I love coming-of-age stories like Stephen King's The Body (Stand by Me) and Robert McCammon's Boy's Life. They're nostalgic for me, and I suppose when writing this story I was going for that same kind of feel. Unfortunately, for this kid things don't end all that well. But he sure has fun getting there.
A Hand With the Harvest
I quickly grabbed my rifle as I headed out the door. The screams of the captured thief were certainly music to these aging ears. It had been weeks of waiting before I caught one of the Nardell brothers. For the past few years, the entire village grew tired of the Nardells and their thievery. We worked hard in our gardens to produce for our families, and the weasels came along weekly to dip their hands into what wasn't theirs, picking at the crops, too lazy to work themselves. Let the bear trap be an example of what will happen when you mess with Old Fred's harvest now.
I left the lantern behind. On a night such as this, there would be no need for it. Void of any clouds, the sky filled with the bright glow of a full moon providing adequate light. My legs moved slower than they once did, but my hearing well intact, and I could hear one of them boys wailing something horrible. The screams grew louder as I made my way up the hill, until at last they just stopped.
Once on top of the hill, I could make out one of the Nardell boys writhing around on the ground with his leg in the trap. It was the oldest boy, Shane. As I grew closer, it looked as though one of his brothers was there too—struggling to help him, no doubt.
“How’d ya like that, boys?” I yelled.
I anticipated a mouthful of curses, but they seemed at a loss for any words. I crept closer, gun aimed at them. The other brother looked as though he was wrestling frantically with the trap, and my old eyes told me he was even using his teeth to do it. I drew closer. He was using his teeth, but not on the trap. He tore at something with a wild ferocity.
“Put down whatever crop you got there, boy!”
What I thought was one of the Nardell boys, shot straight into the sky quickly disappearing. Had I not been squinting, I would have missed the swift movement all together. A moaning ahead of me drew my attention back to the garden. Shane Nardell lay there covered in his own blood. The blood shone like black oil under the night sky. There was far too much of it. My trap could never spill that much. I crept closer still, squinting harder. One of Shane’s legs had been removed from the knee down, and the trap was gone. Someone had taken both the trap and Shane’s leg.
I felt a gust of wind that forced my eyes shut momentarily. When I opened them, in front of me stood a thin, demonic being, exceeding my own height by at least a foot. The moonlight bounced off its gray, shark-like skin; its fingers long as pencils. I lost my grip on the rifle and jumped backward as it snapped its jagged teeth at me. Its pale, beady eyes penetrated my very soul, and other than the lapping of blood around its lipless mouth, it made no sound. Large, bat-like wings sprung from its back as it raced toward Shane, grabbed him by the throat, and ascended into the night.
I stood stunned, watching it as it darted like a bat. I lost sight of the creature until it abruptly landed in front of me. With one hand holding the Nardell boy by the neck, it laid the bear trap at my feet, looked me in the eyes, and ascended once more.
Somehow I knew exactly what it wanted. To be fed again. I contemplated it all for only a few moments before deciding I would be more than happy to accommodate it. Perhaps our garden problems would soon be gone. For good.
Notes on A Hand with the Harvest
This story was prompted from a painting I'd seen on the internet. It was the face of a gray, demonic-looking creature. I'm not sure how you pictured the moonlight garden on top of the hill in your mind, but for me the visual was serene and peaceful. Well, until whats-his-name shows up.
Apple Sauce
“Come on, Danny. Come with me this time.”
I stayed behind the bush as Kevin left without me. This would be the third bag he’d stolen tonight—running behind the poor kids, snatching their goods, and sprinting around the block with a new supply of candy.
Minutes went by and Kevin threw himself on the ground where he’d left me. Candy spilled from a couple of the bags as he landed.
“Chicken!” Was all Kevin could muster while catching his breath.
“No. I’m just not cruel. I hope you get caught. I hope Mr. Smits catches you. Or Tommy’s big brother does. You’d never do it again.”
“Oh, shut up and help me eat this. “
“No way. It’s bad enough I’m sitting here watching. I’m goin’ home.” I stood up to leave.
“Awww, come on. I’ll stop. I stashed some eggs by the garage. Let’s go decorate Old Smitty’s house with them. I snatched one of his apples earlier.”
Kevin pulled the apple from one of the many bags and handed it to me. It was giant and bright red. Mr. Smits had always yelled at us for picking them.
“No thanks.” I pushed his arm and walked away.
Kevin collected the stolen goods, stood, and ran to catch up. “C’mon, Danny. I can’t eat all this by myself. It’s Halloween. We’re supposed to cause trouble.” He rubbed the apple on his shirt, polishing it.
“Not like this.”
>
Kevin skipped ahead and stood in front of me, still polishing the apple. “Okay. Let’s go to my house and watch a movie. My old man has that huge bookcase full. We could watch any of the Jason movies, The Shining, Evil De…”
As he rambled on, a sparkle on the apple from the shine of the streetlight caught my eye. It appeared to have something jutting out from it. The more I stared at it, the more convinced I was that a razor was buried deep in the apple.
“Poltergeist, Dawn of the Dead…”
I waited for the piece of blade to catch on his shirt as he polished the apple, but it never did.
"Jaws, Phantasm…"
I never warned him before he took a bite. I didn’t want to.
I watched as the blade cut deep between his top teeth. I couldn’t tell if the crunch came from his gums or the apple itself. Blood flowed around the apple and started a large puddle on the ground. He dropped every bag he’d held and screamed, but his mouth could open no wider and the apple stayed lodged like in a roasted pig.
I just stared. Somehow I felt he deserved it. As though Kevin were a split piñata, kids gathered; laughing and looting the spilled candy. To them it was just part of Halloween—another kid showing off his costume. Kevin’s screams were like gunfire on the fourth of July—hidden amongst the loud children, trick-or-treat chants, and the sound of stereo speakers pointed out windows, preaching moans, chains, and whistling wind. Kevin ran, leaving behind a trail of crimson.
I stood wondering which was worse: Standing idly by while Kevin ruined the holiday for others, or watching karma rip through my friend’s face.
I picked up a sucker from the sidewalk. Green apple, my favorite. It was beginning to be a good Halloween after all.
Notes on Apple Sauce
Just a quick karma execution story here. This was inspired by a single, overlooked scene in the movie Halloween II. Quite possibly one of the more disturbing scenes for me as a 12-year-old boy. The scene showed a young boy dressed in a pirate costume with his mother in the parking lot of a hospital. The poor kid held a bloody rag to his face, while a razorblade was firmly lodged in between his teeth. This scene, no doubt, pointed at the urban legend of tampered Halloween candy.
Discerning the Adversary
“Well, doctor. You have me here. I have an appointment in an hour, so if you’d kindly get to this urgent matter of yours I would most appreciate it.” Chandler Worthington, not so politely, raced to the point. He dropped the butt of his spent cigarette on the tile floor and crushed it with his heel, only to immediately light another.
“Yes, of course. Thank you for coming, Mr. Worthington. I trust you were not followed, and no one knows your whereabouts,” said Dr. Bellinson.
Chandler gave the doctor a hard stare. “No, I made sure both the CIA and the FBI tagged along.” He looked at his watch impatiently. “Heck, the SWAT should be crashing through any moment.”
“Forgive me, sir. As you know, we must protect our work, and your investment. Please come this way and I’ll show you our progress.” Dr. Bellinson motioned his hand toward the steel double doors of the compound.
The doors led to a wide corridor; the spine of a large laboratory filled with independently-funded experiments kept secret from the Federal Government. A small handful of rich investors around the country had gotten their hands dirty with the illegal goings on at the compound, curiously referred to as Plan C.
“Doctor, when I send you a check to continue with your research, or whatever hellacious experiments you’ve got going on in here, I expect to hear from you only when you’ve managed to make me an even wealthier man.” Chandler paused to take a long drag on his cigarette. Dr. Bellinson waited. He knew there was more.
“I am here only because of the urgent coercing of my co-investors, who also happen to not be quite as busy as I am, nor half the asset. Nevertheless, they insisted. And I am here."
More smoke inhalation. More waiting from the doctor.
"That being said, Doctor, I’m trusting that the time I’m wasting here will be worth every minute. If not, I will have no hesitation in pulling my monetary support.” Smoke rolled out with each word, adding to his stained moustache.
“I understand sir, and I can assure you this is no waste of anyone's time. I think you’ll find that what we’ve stumbled across is even more than you had expected,” the doctor said as he opened yet another door for Chandler.
The door gave way to a large chamber. Random reflections bounced off the ceiling and surrounding walls making it evident that somewhere in the room was a body of water. Dr. Bellinson held open the heavy steel door making room for Chandler to enter. A wide catwalk grate secured with railings followed the walls of the enormous dome-shaped room; the same grate floor crossed through the center acting as a bridge to the other side. A pool twenty feet below filled the room with a yellow-green glow. What looked like algae littered the surface. The strong aroma of unfamiliar chemicals and rotten vegetation assaulted Chandler’s nostrils.
"So. You've made a giant toilet. Congratulations," Chandler said as he flicked the remainder of his cigarette into the water below.
With disappointment, the doctor watched as the cigarette dropped.
"Sir, what you're looking at is merely the habitat for something that could potentially change our military's complete infrastructure. We have worked the entire year on this project, and now we feel we are at a point where enough progress has been made to be able to share it with our investors."
"And where are the others?"
"Oh, they'll be along. They've seen most of the presentation, just not the next stage in our experiment."
Chandler stared blankly at the doctor and lit another cigarette.
"Okay, give me the spiel."
"Well, basically sir, what we feel we have developed is a group of specimens that could potentially serve as replacement for much of our military. This one we are showing you today we hope could potentially be part of the naval branch, in particular the warfare unit."
"Specimen? You mean, as in, alive and animate?" Exhaled smoke and stale coffee offended a handful of the doctor's senses. Chandler fought back the urge to wave it away and so remained in the toxic cloud.
"Yes sir, that's exactly what I mean."
"So we're not talking biochemical here, are we?"
"No sir. In short, we are playing God, and we've created a living, breathing army that not only will instill panic within the enemy but also destroy them in the process. We have two stages left in our experiment; the first being that the specimens are able to accurately, and without fail, discern the enemy from us, and the second part being that we make them expendable; that is, in the occasion that one may be destroyed by the enemy, we are able to easily reproduce another."
"Okay, Doctor. You've got my interest. Let's see this specimen of yours."
Dr. Bellinson led the way to the bridge grate. The sound of their shoes hitting the metal echoed off the empty walls of the dome room. As they approached the center of the bridge, Chandler gripped hard onto the rails and tugged at them, testing the security they provided.
"Yes, brace yourself, Mr. Worthington. What you are about to witness is very intimidating."
A nervous chuckle erupted from Chandler as he took one last drag from his cigarette before, again, littering the pool below.
"Lights!" Shouted Dr. Bellinson.
A loud pop filled the room. Submerged lights came to life causing the pool to glow, casting an even brighter green luminescence on everything within the room, while in the water, what had looked like random patches of algae pulled themselves together into a single large mound equal to the size of a small house, dwarfing the two who now stood directly above it. It seemed to rhythmically pulse from sporadic orbicular areas around its mass. Several feet beneath the water, countless thick, vine-like strands sprouted, swaying in random directions causing unpredictable ripples on the water's surface.
"You created this?...this abomination?"
"Yes
, sir. We were able to isolate and split very specific deoxyribonucleic acids from the Aurelia aurita and fuse it with that of the...."
"Enough with the scientific gibberish, Doc. How does it work? How will this replace the military." He pointed in disgust at the mass below.
"The creature has very acute senses, in particular the ability to smell fear, animosity or any threat at all. Canines have been known to predict earthquakes, this creature senses the enemy. Obviously, all of our tests have been isolated here at the compound. We have been able to run the discernment tests using only animals, but so far it has been 100% successful. You, as well as the other investors," the doctor pointed across the bridge to a small group of well-dressed men watching from a room through a large glass window, "are here to witness the next stage in the discernment tests. You will be able to see first hand the destruction that the abomination, as you called it, can cause to the adversary."