Something zipped past Layla in a flittering blur. There was a meaty thud and a bubbly gurgle. She turned to see a shaft impaled into the Diaper Man’s throat. Fresh blood slicked over his soiled body as it dribbled and poured down from his neck. He fell to his knees, then flat on his chest, burying the shaft further into his neck and out the back. Layla noticed a pointed tip standing tall above his body, dripping with crimson goop.
“You alright?” a voice softly rolled over the marsh to her ears.
She turned with a frightened gasp and instinctively cowered back down among the weeds. But it was just an old man coming back from a day of fishing. He stood on his boat with an empty harpoon gun in his hand. His small outboard motor puttered and popped as he navigated around the reeds to get closer.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said. His voice was harmless, old and comforting, like a loving grandfather.
She rose up to see him. Her apprehension faded when he slowly secured his boat and stepped onto land with frailty. “Thank you. Are you with the police?”
He chuckled. “No ma’am.”
She ran to him and hugged him. “They’re coming. The police are coming.”
“Alright then. Well, I better take that big old menace to them, let ‘em know what I done.”
“No please. Please! Just take me away from here.”
The old man dragged the lifeless brute to his boat and flopped him aboard. His strength surprised Layla. He motioned for her to get on the boat. He could see the fear in her eyes. “Don’t you worry nothin’ now. He’s dead as can be. We’re just goin’ ‘round the marsh into the inlet by the entrance. Police’ll be there I’m sure.”
She reluctantly nodded her head in agreement, slowly making her way over to the boat. “Wait!” A thought came to her. “Connor. My boyfriend. His. His head...” She pointed toward the old graveyard and started to cry again.
“You stay here. I’ll get it. Looks to me you been through enough for one day,” the old man said. He hastily grabbed a small cooler from under a hatch and spilled a few fish out onto the deck. They were still alive, flopping around the pool of blood that was forming beneath the Diaper Man’s corpse.
The old man found Connor’s head, placed it carefully into the cooler, and climbed back aboard his boat. He tugged at the engine cord until it sputtered to a start.
They slid out of the marsh, gliding softly across the glassy water as the golden sun dipped below the horizon. Gentle wakes rippled behind them as they made their way toward the inlet. The engine kicked up to a throaty hum. The fading fish flopped beside Layla’s feet as she fingered the dead recording device Billy had entrusted to her. And the Diaper Man’s hand twitched violently, gripping his last ounce of life.
THE END
The Diaper Man is Vincent Todarello's first installment in a forthcoming collection of short stories inspired by actual events on Long Island.
Since publishing The Diaper Man, Todarello has been busy penning a sequel to The Lazarus Impact, his wild, fast-paced and successful zombie action thriller.
However, he has specific and detailed plans to return with several more tales of terror and oddity in the vein of The Diaper Man, so stay tuned for more short stories in his series of Long Island urban legends.
In the meantime you can explore his other works at www.vintod.com.
The Diaper Man Page 5