“You never once asked me my last name, Hannah,” he mocks, flashing teeth. “Shaw, my last name is Shaw, and Jared Shaw was my uncle.” Tilting his head to the side, he waits for my reaction.
“You’re Jesse Shaw...” I whisper, realizing how stupid I’d been to put my trust in him. “So, you killed your own uncle all because you didn’t like the way he looked at me. That’s so wrong, Jesse,” I tell him, shaking with anger. “So wrong, and I don’t want any part in it.”
Why are all the men that want me monsters or lunatics?
Trick or Treat part II
“Son, the greatest trick the Devil pulled was convincing the world there was only one of him.”
― David Wong
Her absence is felt like a knife to my dead heart. Hannah Vale is the very air I yearn to breathe, and I will retrieve her at all costs. Yes, she defied me, but she’ll learn soon enough. No one has ever seen my face, no one but my father.
Sniffing sulfur in the air, I sense he’s nearby too, most likely up to his old tricks. He won’t stand in my way, and neither will that little prick that follows her around, Jesse Shaw. I know he wants Hannah, and I know I’ll kill him on sight.
This should make for an interesting night, indeed.
Stepping foot outside, I don’t bother shifting. I’ll track her down on my own two feet, although I’ll admit to being surprised at how quickly she shifted. I hadn’t realized that my mother’s shifter genes would carry over through my blood. I only knew that, according to my father, she would become immortal.
Deals with the Devil are always complicated.
Sucking in a deep breath, I look up and smile at the glory of the night, and I know the stars are on my side.
The sky bleeds with me, taunting my enemies.
They don’t know what hunts them.
And just like her…it’s too late.
With one last look around, I take off running, reveling in the power of my own speed. I’m a monster, a villain, and I’ll gladly murder half the town to get to Hannah, my beloved.
The wind that once helped her escape, now helps me, its fierce bluster pushing me onwards. That’s one thing about being a creature of the night; we’re one with it, and the night with us.
Speed is one of my greatest strengths and the dirt beneath me recognizes its master, gripping my boots with magnetic gravity.
I’m here, at her dormitory, and I know she’s inside with that little psycho. My breathing is even and my footsteps silent as I walk up the stairs with sick determination.
Pausing outside the door, I listen with my heightened senses and wait, the anticipation trickling into my veins like morphine.
“You’re Jesse Shaw...” I hear her say with disdain. “So, you killed your own uncle all because you didn’t like the way he looked at me. That’s so wrong, Jesse,” she tells him, obviously distraught. “So wrong, and I don’t want any part in it.”
I grin, thinking of her looking at him like the little worm he is. About time she saw it. The boy has ‘creep’ written all over him, yet somehow all the stupid, little girls on campus love him for it. All but Hannah…
“Wrong?” Jesse’s voice mocks my sanity. “You think I care about wrong and right, Hannah? All I care is that I get you, and now thanks to some universal shift in luck, I’ve got you. Pack your shit, we’re leaving, now,” he orders.
His voice on the other hand, makes me want to smash his skull in instantly.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she tells him calmly. “You need help, Jesse.”
That’s my girl.
“I need you, that’s it, you’re all I need,” he says, his voice cutting my patience in half.
“No-,” she starts to say something but is cut off by the smashing of his mouth against hers.
Smack, she slaps him!
That’s it, enough, time to end this little fucker’s existence once and for all. No one touches what’s mine and lives to tell the tale.
I burst into the room, ripping the door of its hinges. “Hannah, back away from him,” I demand, so that I can kill him without accidently harming her in the process.
“Ethan,” she gasps, pushing away from him with her newfound strength. “Please, let’s just leave; you don’t have to do this.” Her dark hair is windswept and sexy as hell.
I’ll need to rip his eyes out first, for having seen her like this. She’s mine and no one else’s.
“Ah, ah, ah,” my father’s voice interrupts the scene with a snap of his fingers. “You don’t want to go making a bad impression on your bride do you, ssson?” Hannah backs up until she’s against a wall while Jesse just stands there with his mouth hanging open.
I knew that bastard was close by.
“Who the hell is this?” Jesse asks incredulously, glancing around the room wildly.
My father is dressed to kill, wearing a black business suit. The black business suit always means one thing, he’s come to collect. “Oh, sssorry there, young man, I’m guessing you don’t remember me.”
“I’ve never met you before in my life,” Jesse retorts with a huff. “What’re you supposed to be, some kind of gangster?”
My father laughs. “I like your sssense of humor, boy.”
“Enough with the games. What do you want, Father?” I ask, positioning myself to protect Hannah if need be.
“I know you,” Hannah says suddenly, looking at my father with recognition. “You were in my dream.”
That cheat. “Stay the hell away from her, we had a deal!”
“Yesss, our deal is ssstill good.” His voice slithers with evil malcontent. “I’m here for him, not for her.” He jerks his head towards Jesse Shaw.
Jesse recoils. “What the hell, man? I just told you, I don’t know you. You must have me mixed up with someone else.”
“I guess you don’t remember that chat we had about a month ago, after you made your firssst kill,” my father says with mock-sadness, inching closer. “You were pretty drunk, but ssstill.” He smiles wickedly. “You sssaid the words…I’d give my soul for just one kiss from Hannah Vale.”
“Dude, you heard that? I didn’t think anyone was listening...” Jesse trails off, staggering back in fear. “I mean maybe I did, but….”
“Oh, you know, I sssometimes pop in when leassst expected.” He snaps his fingers and just like that him and Jesse Shaw are gone, nothing but a puff of smoke left in their place.
“What just happened?” Hannah asks, inching away from the wall and preparing to run.
She’s a fast learner.
“My father just stole my kill, that’s what happened,” I answer angrily, advancing on her like the predator I am. “That prick put his mouth on you…fuck, I need to kill something.”
“Where did he take Jesse?” she asks tremulously. “Is he…dead?”
I sigh and then laugh because I can tell she’s more curious than concerned. “Probably to hell,” I tell her the truth, even knowing how ridiculous it might sound to her unlearnt ears.
“I see,” she says softly, her eyes darting back and forth between me and the opened door. “So, your father is what, the Devil?” She laughs nervously.
“That’s right, Hannah.” I prowl closer still. “Now you know the truth about me. I’m the son of the most ancient, evil thing on earth.”
She nods her head slowly. “I believe you, but please, I’ve never done anything to deserve this.” Her eyes widen when a hiss escapes my mouth. “Maybe with time, we could get to know each other, since we’re both, you know…dead?”
“I’ve waited all my life, hundreds of years now, and I’ll wait no longer.” I hold my hand out in invitation. “Come, be with me willingly,” I entice softly, clenching my fist. “Or by force, it’s your choice, Hannah.”
“I won’t just blindly follow you, I’m not cut out for that life,” she warns, and I can tell she’s about to shift again.
Her arms pop, next her legs give way until…
An unnatural breeze followe
d by a mad cackle slams the dormitory door closed, effectively blocking her second escape. “Never sssay, I never gave you anything, ssson,” my father’s voice fills the space again. “My wedding gift,” he laughs, dropping a birdcage to the wooden floor with a loud clank.
Flap, flap, flap!
Caw, caw!
My love, Hannah, scratches at the wires, her obsidian eyes furious from inside the birdcage. I smile at her feeble attempts to peck her way out. She’ll learn with time.
There’s no escape.
“By the way, ssson, I just love that tune,” my father says, his red eyes popping with enthusiasm. “Maybe it can be your firssst dance, you know, if you decide to invite me to the wedding…”
“What tune is that?” I ask, curious despite myself.
He taps his head with a long finger nail, singing, “Life could be a dream, sssweetheart…”
I grin, remembering the song she kept singing, “Hello, hello again.”
The End
(For Now)
Epilogue
“Hannah, wake up, my love.”
His sing-song voice pulls me from sleep, and I jolt upright, panting. Glancing around, I know we’re back in the cave, only this time I can see everything clearly. Paintings, beautiful works of art align the stone walls. Long, thin candles are lit at every corner. Majestic looking rugs hang where there should be openings.
“What, what more do you want?” I ask grumpily, fully aware that he’s trapped me once again. “Let me go back to sleep.”
So, I can dream this place away.
He jerks my chin up to look at him, his masked face now inches from mine. “You’ll not escape me, my love. Not even in your dreams.”
“Oh, I will,” I spit at him, pulling the white sheet over my breasts. “It’s only a matter of time.”
He laughs darkly. “Would you like to know what I’ve been doing while you were sleeping?”
Ew, gross.
Sneering, I flip my hair over a naked shoulder. “I can only imagine.” I roll my eyes.
This time when he laughs, it’s startlingly sincere. “Oh, nothing that dastardly, my love. After all, we have plenty of time for that.”
“What, then?” I ask impatiently.
“I do hope you’ll like it, my gift to you…” he walks to a hanging rug and yanks it down.
Dear, God!
It’s Stacey, Amanda, and Lydia…
Their heads only.
On pikes…
I gasp, my whole body shaking in fear and disgust. “What did you do?”
His lips turn down in a frown. “You don’t like it? I can find others…”
“Ethan,” I gulp, staring at him with a newfound horror. “Why? How is this a gift?”
“Forget it,” he says angrily, pulling the rug back into place. “Father said you’d…” he trails off shaking his head. “Never mind, I should’ve known that man was up to his old tricks.”
“Tricks?” I question, not even attempting to hide my disgust.
“He suggested I bring home mistresses to keep you in line,” he reveals, shaking his dark head. “Like the Dracula movie, remember he had mistresses? Well, I told him I wouldn’t have another and that I’d never be unfaithful to you.”
“So, what, you killed them instead?” I laugh and cry at the same time.
“He said that you would see it as a sign of my unwavering loyalty…”
“You’re both mad, completely mad!”
“Just-never mind, I’ll get rid of the heads,” he snaps.
I have to find a way out of here, or I’ll be the next head on a pike. “Yes, please, get rid of…them. And no more killing, please.”
He turns then, stalking right up to the bed. “I vow it; I’ll never kill again…unless you’re in danger.”
Maybe this won’t be too hard after all, I think to myself, glancing around for that blasted cage.
“Thank you,” I tell him, hoping to confuse him with gratitude.
“Just in case you were thinking of another run,” he whispers, suddenly covering me with his heat. “Think again, my love.” He brings my hands up, effectively shackling me to the bed in the blink of an eye.
“Please, Ethan, let me go,” I implore, struggling against my constraints.
With a thrust he slides inside me, his teeth flashing in the darkness. “Never.”
Other Books By N. Heinz
Deadly Persuasion
The Afterwards, Rosewood Series Part I
The Dream’ar, Rosewood Series Part II
About the author
N. Heinz is a writer of Romance, Fantasy, and Horror. She lives in North Carolina with her family and two children. Since childhood, she’s been a lover of books, poems, and any kind of literature that speaks to her. She spent many summers with her grandmother, watching old movies and drinking coffee over morning conversations. It was there, in her grandmothers kitchen that she received the love and sage advice that would lead her to have enough courage to one day pursue her dreams. In her spare time she can be found reading, playing with her children, or perhaps dazing into the distance, dreaming up a wild tale to tell.
You can follow her here on Facebook…
https://www.facebook.com/nheinzbooks/
Hollow
A story by DD Prince
Copyright 2018, all rights reserved. http://ddprince.com
This story may not be copied, distributed, or otherwise used in any part without the author’s permission.
Don’t be a book pirate! The e-book is only available from Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.
Authorized for use in The Horror of Our Love Anthology, 2018.
Prologue
Every Halloween night for a decade, a lost soul hunted for revenge, thirsty for a kill. You may have heard the story --- or one like it.
What you might not know is that it’s not just a story. The reason it has lapsed into lore is because ten years after it began, a witch and her coven sought and found a way to stop the annual carnage. Her coven is responsible for some very important spells that keep things normal to the degree that the average person can afford to be a skeptic. Though, her coven was also partly responsible for the violence in this particular case, it was not via nefarious intentions.
Sometimes, things just go wrong just as sometimes they go inexplicably right.
This particular legend’s genesis was over 200 years ago, and for generations, descendants of that coven have continued to protect the area around Drowsy Hollow, a tiny town that’s barely on the map.
Locals let the truth about what used to happen each Halloween night fade from truth to legend, wanting to forget about the fear. Needing to forget about the carnage. It was that brutal.
It transcended from being a visceral fear of everyone in the small village, to lapsing into local lore that became innocuous to the point that stories are told each Halloween that closely mirror the truth.
Children even go so far as to dress as the source of the legend, as the hollow husk of that former soul, in a dark cloak that covers their face, carrying a menacing-looking jack-o-lantern stating they’ll do so until coming across a soul that they will take, so they can trade the pumpkin for a head.
But, October 30th, when the last remaining local witch from that coven perished unexpectedly, things went awry.
Her niece, who was supposed to come quickly and cast the annual protection spell, was delayed through a series of unusual and inexplicable hurdles that amounted to very bad luck at the worst possible time.
The niece needed to be on site just outside the town of Drowsy Hollow near a specific tree, the oldest in the area, to cast the trusted annual protection spell. Since she could not get there in time, she cast a different spell remotely, to give her the opportunity to whisper commands to the horseman as he hunted, hoping it would be enough to ensure he took no lives that year.
Instead, not only did the new spell alter the course of events for the evening, it also changed the fabric of life for Isab
ella Krane, a young schoolteacher who happened to be traveling home alone during the witching hour.
Incidentally, she is a direct descendent of the man responsible for the horseman’s death.
Maybe it was the case of a perfect storm.
Or, perhaps, it’s fate, happening the way it is supposed to happen.
The coven was not prepared for what happened that night. No one was.
Chapter 1
THE STORY
I know this will sound crazy; and I’m the most skeptical, grounded, logical person I know, so if you’re reading this, I have to defend myself. This is what happened to me. As crazy as it’ll sound.
If you’re reading this, I didn’t burn these pages for some reason. Maybe I’m dead. Maybe he came back for me like he said he would.
Maybe I’ve been institutionalized for losing my mind.
The following is my recounting of what I remember happening to me. I have decided it might be therapeutic to get it down on paper, out of my head. I’ll probably write the details down and then burn these pages. And then maybe I’ll be able to go on with my life. Or at least put it away in a locked place in my mind, and then try to move forward.
I am filled with nausea at the notion of writing all of it down. I’m also filled with nausea for a different reason. A horrifying reason.
Each night when I close my eyes, I pray I’ll dream of something else instead. Or dream of nothing and just sleep.
But, that’s not what happens. Instead, I experience that night again in my dreams, as if it’s happening again. As if it’s now.
It’s been a full four and a half weeks of the same recollections, night after night. And each night when I dream it, it feels like the first time again. All over again.
The Horror of our Love: A Twisted Tales Anthology Page 12