Bethany And The Zombie Jesus: A Novelette With 11 Other Tales of Horror And Grotesquery

by Jake Bible

  The Dark Woman fixes me with her bottomless black eyes. The smile is not in there, it never was.

  “I have fulfilled my end of the bargain,” she states calmly, quietly and steps from the podium. A Wooden Spoon rises from her seat, brandishing her tool. The Dark Woman brushes her aside like crumpled newspaper. The Wooden Spoon collapses, skin and bones dried to brittle dust then blown away by an unseen breeze.

  We stop. We quiet down. But we do not put our belts back on or sheath our spoons.

  The Dark Woman looks at us all, making eye contact with each person present. “I cannot be bothered with your wants. I cannot be bothered by your inability to parent. Some folks, villages, countries, worlds, dimensions should not breed. Yours is one. Learn to live with it.” She walks to the meeting hall’s double doors, pushing them wide. Turning, she says to us, “Of course, you could go into the Woods and get your children back. There is always that option.” And then she is gone.

  I take my seat, next to my Wooden Spoon, and sigh. She places her hand on my arm.

  “Don’t worry, Love,” she soothes, patting my violence-toned muscles. “We’ll find a way to get that Little Fucking Shit back.” She grins at me, her very best, most wicked grin. “Then we will get what we want, what we need, for hours on end. We will drink from his fear, lap at his misery and eat of his despair. That will tide us over for awhile until we can find a more permanent solution.”

  I kiss her deeply, tasting the boiled eggs and cabbage from dinner, then pull back. “Of course we will.”

  Someone, a Leather Belt, clears his throat from the back of the meeting hall. We all turn.

  “Why can’t we fetch them from the Woods?” he poses.

  Mumbles, whispers, growls lift to the air.

  “The Woods are death!” someone hisses.

  “The creatures would eat us!” another whines.

  A thought hits me and I stand again. “Have any of you been into the Woods?” I ask, looking at their faces, finding the answer quickly. I split my lips into what some call a smile. “Well then, I think we all need to take a trip down a dark and ominous path.”

  The others look at me in shock, disbelief polluting their features.

  “After all,” my smile widens. “It’s for the children.”

  They understand now and rise as one.

  ***

  I watch from the shadows of the Woods’ edge. Nora stands next to me, her newly formed tail switching back and forth. Her eyes have changed, the pupils lengthening, turning to cat-like slits.

  “How far away?” I ask, twisting the leather in my hands. The monster I have become is pure terror for my fellow denizens of the Woods. I am a Leather Belt, true horror. If it wasn’t for Nora’s hand constantly entwined with mine, I feel that most of the others wouldn’t speak to me and would shy away in fear and loathing.

  “They’re at least a mile off,” Nora states. Her tone has become more matter-of-fact as her transformation has progressed. Neither of us know if she’ll stay humanoid, such as the Werefolk, or if her body will fully give over to the feline form. We both wait, hoping for the former.

  “You’re sure you saw smoke? Torches?” I ask again. She shoots me an impatient look. “Okay, I believe you.”

  I turn to the Boogeyman and catch him staring at my hands wrapping and unwrapping the leather belt. The leather belt that appeared one morning when I woke. The leather belt that is a part of my arm, an extension of myself. No need to slip this one from the belt loops, it slides from my forearm when needed, when called out.

  Boogey meets my gaze, his eyes apologetic. I nod my understanding and smile. “Has a Leather Belt or Wooden Spoon ever come into the Woods?”

  Boogey shakes his head and answers in his high falsetto trill, “Oh, no, no. Never. We are their nightmares, their hidden fears. We are how they control the children, with threats to be cast out to us. To be taken forever.” Boogey casts his eyes down. “They do not know we are the children. The cast out.”

  I reach out and pat his black cloaked arm, trying to reassure the fragile creature, the lost child. “What do they want?” I wonder aloud.

  “You are the last,” Nora says, nuzzling against my shoulder.

  “What?”

  She pulls back, puzzled. “You are the last. The last child. All the rest have run here.” She gestures about the Woods. “Or they have, well, been disciplined and buried. You are it. They have no more children.”

  How could I have not seen this, not noticed there weren’t any more kids in the village? Was I so self-absorbed that anything outside my personal hell didn’t matter? Was insignificant? Looking back on my former existence, I realized I was that self-absorbed. All I cared about was keeping myself safe, keeping them from getting to me, from working their parenting skills upon the backs of my legs, arms, head.

  They finally crest a small hill and I can see what Nora saw: a Mob. Torches, pitchforks, axes, spades, clubs, machetes. And of course, leather belts and wooden spoons. They do not come to talk, to reason or cajole us into returning. They come to kill. From far off I can make out a chant, their call to arms.

  “For the children…for the children…for the children…”

  “Are they going to take us back?” a small vampire asks, standing at my elbow. I glance behind me and see that most of the denizens of the Woods have joined us now.

  “No,” I say to the vampire, to everyone. “I won’t let them.” I step from the shadows of the Woods, into the open. Fear cannot hold me back. Nora claws at my arm, but she can’t hold me back either.

  ***

  I lead this Mob to the Woods. We are the adults, we are in charge. We will not be scared away by imaginary monsters, fairy tales and legends. Our children are in those Woods and we aim to take them back.

  “Look! One of them is attacking!” someone shouts from the Mob. I scan the Woods and see the lone figure emerging, brandishing its weapon, twisting it in its hands like…like a leather belt.

  “Oh my God!” my Wooden Spoon cries. “It’s him, it’s our Edward! That Fucking Little Shit!”

  I hear the venom in her voice, the murder waiting to be let loose. I place my hand on her fleshy shoulder. “Patience, My Love. Let’s not spook him back in.” I glance furtively at the others in the Mob, then lean in close and whisper in her ear, “At the very least, we can take our child back. Let’s play this out.”

  She cackles, but quickly covers her mouth, trying not to draw attention. I lift my hand, motioning for the Mob to stop. They do. What obedient children they must have all been. What strong Leather Belts and Wooden Spoons they must have had.

  ***

  The first Leather Belt, their appointed leader, separates from the Mob and approaches me. As he gets closer my insides clench and my bowels threaten to loose. Be strong, I tell myself. Don’t lose it now.

  I walk towards my Leather Belt, trying to keep my legs from shaking, trying to be so much older than I am. I think of Nora and that gives me strength.

  ***

  My son, my Edward. That Fucking Little Shit. Figures he’s the ringleader of all this bullshit. Figures he is the one that has kept the children from coming back, kept them captive with those monsters and nightmares in there. In the Woods.

  I approach him, my leather belt still strapped to my waist, no pitchfork, no torch; empty handed.

  “Edward, son, please, let’s be reasonable here. Your mother is worried sick and wants you to come home.” I gesture back at the Mob. “They all want their children to come home.”

  ***

  The calm voice; the dangerous voice. He’s good. Any other child would be swayed, I’m sure. He’s a charmer, my father.

  “I don’t think so…Frank,” I say to him, strength in my voice that I wasn’t sure was there. I hear the Mob take a collective gasp at my use of his real name.

  My father’s head snaps back, as if physically slapped. His eyes narrow and I see his hands twitch towards his leather belt.

  “You. Don’t. C
all. Me. That,” he growls, the calm voice gone.

  The speed with which I have broken him gives me more strength.

  “I’ll call you Old Fucking Fart if I want to…Old Fucking Fart,” I spit at him. “You are nothing here.”

  His face twists with rage and the Mob reflects the same wrath. I hold up my palms, giving them something.

  “But, despite that, I do have an offer for you. Interested?”

  My father cocks his head to the side, studying me.

  “Whip him bloody! Break him! Split his skin open!” I hear voices from the Mob call out. My father raises his hand for silence and is obeyed. Figures he would be the ringleader of all this bullshit.

  “Okay. Let’s hear it,” he says, grinning a grin that does not reach his eyes.

  ***

  My son takes a deep breath, one of his last if I have my way, and sets forth his proposal.

  “You can leave here, forget about us and let us live out our lives in the Woods,” he says. Groans and cries of protest erupt from the Mob. Again I silence them with my hand.

  “Or?” I ask, more than curious for the next part of the proposal.

  “Or,” the Fucking Little Shit continues. “Or you can step into the Woods and take back your children. They are all in there, waiting. Although they aren’t quite how you remember them. It’s really up to you.” Edward shifts his weight, cockily thrusting a hip out to the side. I’ll kill him slowly for this. For all of this.

  I laugh at his proposal. “Well, the second part is what we planned to do anyway. So I don’t think you are really giving us much of a choice there.”

  Edward shrugs, actually shrugs at me. “There’s always a choice. I guess you have made yours.” I see him surveying the Mob, sizing them up and counting the numbers. The math is easy: two parents per child. We outnumber them two to one. He turns his attention back on me. “Let me just tell them it’s time to go home. Give me a minute?”

  I nod. “One minute exactly, then we come in there and take what is ours.”

  “No problem.” Then the coward quickly slips back into the shadowed edge of the Woods.

  ***

  “Edward! What are you doing?” Nora asks in alarm as I return to her side. I can see the fear reflected on the others’ faces as well.

  “Hoping I understand these Woods,” I answer.

  Boogey sidles up to me, clutching at my elbow. “You can’t let them come in. You can’t let them take us back.” The others cry out in agreement and terror.

  “I won’t and neither will the Woods,” I soothe. “Think about it. There must be a reason none of the Leather Belts and Wooden Spoons enter the Woods. Can’t any of you see why?”

  They all stare at me, too scared to think. I sigh. “The Woods is made up of nightmares and monsters. Look at what we have all become. We are our own nightmares. That is what will happen to them also.”

  “But, what is a Wooden Spoon’s nightmare?” Nora asks.

  “I think I have an idea.” I lean in close to her ear, her furry tufted ear and whisper. “If I’m right then I will need you to back me up. To help me keep things from getting…ugly.”

  “How?” she whispers back.

  “Be kind.”

  ***

  “Minute’s up you Fucking Little Shit!” I yell at the Woods. Turning to the Mob I bellow, “Now we take back our children. They are rightfully ours, paid for with our sweat and souls. The Dark Woman thinks we are too afraid to do what is needed to retrieve our children. Let us show that conjuring bitch what we are made of!” I pump my fist in the air and the Mob does the same.

  With a roar and weapons raised, we charge the Woods, penetrating the shadows that hide our property from us.

  ***

  “Here they come!” I cry to the others. “Fall back and hide! We need them as far into the Woods as possible!”

  “But be kind!” Nora calls out.

  “Why should we?” a troll grunts.

  I turn and address those nearest, hoping my voice will carry to ones already scattered. “Because you were shown kindness when you entered the Woods. That is the magic. That is what keeps us safe. We are not the monsters here, no matter what they say.”

  “There they are!” my Leather Belt shouts to the Mob. “Come here boy! Time to come home and take your punishment like the Fucking Little Shit you are.”

  “Stupid Little Bitch! I’ve found you now!” a Wooden Spoon’s voice I don’t recognize screeches. Nora shudders and grabs my hand, her eyes filled with fright.

  “I can’t go back Edward,” Nora whispers.

  “You won’t, trust me,” I answer, turning to run, pulling Nora with me.

  “That’s right you coward! Run away! Go cry to Mommy! Oh wait, Mommy’s right here!” my Leather Belt taunts.

  “Yes, Edward! Come give Mommy a hug,” my Wooden Spoon cackles. “I need a cuddle from my Fucking Little Shit!” I can hear her thwacking her wooden spoon against trees as she and the Mob pursue us. I can hear them all thwacking and smacking their wooden spoons and leather belts.

  We run, run as fast as we can as far as we can. Deep into the Woods, far into our sanctuary. Soon most of the Mob tire, crying after us to stop, to wait, to come back to Mommy and Daddy.

  My parents do not stop. They never have.

  I shove Nora forward, away from me. “Keep going! Find the others and rally them back here!”

  Nora refuses to let go of my hand. “No, Edward, no! They’ll kill you!”

  “No they won’t,” I pant, winded from the chase. “They are no longer who they think they are.” I squeeze her hand reassuringly. “Trust me.”

  Nora narrows her eyes, daring a look past me. “I hope you are right.” She plants a quick kiss on my cheek and dashes further into the Woods.

  I lean down, hands on my knees and try to get my breath. I have only a moment before my parents, and what’s left of the Mob, catch up to me. I keep my head down, forcing my self to draw slow even breaths, refusing to look up at them. When my father speaks I know I am right.

  “You…Fucking…Little…Shit…” he gasps, his lungs fighting for air. His voice is small, tiny, like a child’s. I smile and stand upright, looking him in the eyes, looking all of them in the eyes. I tower above them.

  Their rage hid the truth from them, hid their nightmares until now. Now the Woods show them who they really are.

  I stare down at a group of small children, all trying desperately to look tough and mean, but only succeeding in looking pitiful, fighting to hold onto their now oversized weapons. Most of the Mob fail and pitchforks, axes, clubs clatter to the earth. My Leather Belt, tiny little Leather Belt, glares at me.

  “You think you’ve won?” he yells in his four-year-old voice. I chuckle.

  “That’s your problem. It’s never been a game.”

  His little face darkens with rage and I watch the tantrum erupt. The rest of the Mob stare at him, stunned, as he throws himself to the ground, kicking and screaming.

  “Nonononononononononono!” he cries, tiny tears of anger spilling from his eyes. Some of the other ‘adults’ begin to cry in sympathy, as only the very, very young can.

  Gasps from behind me tear my eyes from the spectacle that is my father. The rest have come back, led by Nora, all of their eyes wide in disbelief. I study their faces, looking for the ones that can’t forgive, that want revenge. To my great relief, I see only pity and amusement.

  “You were right. How did you know?” Nora asks.

  “If you were them,” I gesture at the now completely distraught and vocal Mob. “What would be your worst nightmare?’

  ***

  We walk out of the Woods, all of us, leaving the screaming, whining cry-babies behind. The Woods will take care of them now.

  Nora holds my hand and turns her face to the now night sky, basking in the moonlight as if it were the sun. “Will we change back, Edward?”

  I think about this for a moment before answering. “I don’t know. Honestly I don�
�t.” We walk some more, hand in hand, the others behind us, around us, talking in cautious whispers, unsure of their future. Soon the outline of the Village comes into view. The whispers grow bolder.

  “I think,” picking up where I left off, louder now so everyone can hear. “I think that life leaves scars. What we do with those scars will dictate whether we change or not.”

  My statement ripples through our group, each taking what they can from it.

  Now we stand in the middle of the Village, our Village. No, not our Village, but our village. A normal place, a safe place, a place without forced nightmares and homicidal parents. A place for us.

  From a shadow, the Dark Woman approaches. I have never met her, but I know her, somehow.

  “Very good, children,” she praises. “You behaved admirably. Would you like to be rewarded for your kindness?”

  “No, thank you,” Nora answers first. “We’d just like to go home.”

  The Dark Woman appraises her carefully then nods. “Very well. If you need me, in the future, I’ll find you.”

  “I don’t think we will. Thank you, though,” I say, confident of my words.

  “Sometimes scars never heal,” she says back to me.

  “Yes, but they are our scars and not to be bargained with.”

  She watches me and smiles, but it fades quickly and she just stands before us all, the Dark Woman.

  One by one we excuse ourselves from her presence and make our way to our homes. I follow Nora to hers. I’ll fetch my things in the morning, when the sun shines upon us and there are no more shadows and nightmares. No more parents. No more Leather Belts and Wooden Spoons.