Paranormal Anthology with a TWIST

by Bart Hopkins

  “It feels so good...” Alexa moaned, swaying her hips slightly. She kept her arms wrapped around herself, swaying with a tune only she could hear. She spun around, relishing the wondrous feeling of the moon beaming down on her.

  She felt something warm and soft touch her arm and she opened her eyes to see Daniel smiling down at her, his arms draping over hers as he pressed his body against her back. She hummed in pleasure at the feel of his body against hers, leaning back into him as they swayed together to the melody of the moon. She reached up to wrap her arm around his neck, pulling his face into the crook of her neck. She heard him inhale her scent, sending a shiver down her spine.

  “Alexa...” Daniel whispered into her ear huskily, and she nearly melted. She turned in his grasp and leaned up to kiss him fully, feeling his arms wrap possessively around her as he kissed back. She felt his tongue push its way into her mouth and she met it with her own to dance for dominance, their hands exploring each others’ body.

  Just as she felt his hand moving up her shirt, his anticipation pressing against her stomach, Robert made a noise and Daniel pulled away—much to Alexa’s chagrin. She growled, turning to Robert as he tried to crawl away, dragging his broken, bent leg behind him.

  “Didn’t I already say you couldn’t leave yet?” Alexa said, walking up behind Robert. He froze, having hoped to get away as they got lost in their twisted passion. He slowly turned towards her, staring up at the woman as her silhouette shone in contrast to the large, full moon behind her.

  “You’re crazy...” Robert said.

  “You’ve said that already,” Daniel remarked from behind Alexa, walking to her side over by Robert. “I’m growing tired of your obvious name calling. Alexa…” He turned to her, a bloodthirsty grin plastered to his tan face. “Shall we?”

  Alexa grinned at Daniel, showing each and every tooth in her mouth. “Let’s.”

  Robert watched as the two lovers closed their eyes, both sucking in a slow, calming breath. He furrowed his bruised brow in confusion as they began to sway back and forth, their bodies loose and relaxed. The light of the moon seemed to grow brighter as the two swayed, rocking back and forth on the balls of their feet. Robert was about to ask what they were doing, but was silenced as both of their eyes snapped open in unison.

  They turned to him, and he loudly gasped.

  Their eyes were glowing gold.

  “Aah...” Daniel groaned, hunching slightly. “It’s here...”

  “Yesss...” Alexa seethed, crossing her arms to grab her shoulders. “The feast...begins!”

  Robert watched in horror as Daniel shot up straight and gave a bestial roar, his canines lengthening to sharp points. Alexa grunted, her fingers flexing as the nails turned a deathly black and grew in length, sharpening into claws. Daniel growled as hair began to sprout on the sides of his face, his sideburns spreading down his neck under his gray hoodie and turning to a burnt russet-like color. He reached up and tore apart the hoodie, exposing the muscle of his torso, which flexed under the skin. Alexa spun her head around in a full circle, her face distending forward into a broad snout, little whiskers growing along her cheeks as she snarled.

  Robert was paralyzed to the spot as he watched the two transform. They fell onto all fours, growling and grunting like the wild animals they were. He stared at the sharp fangs in their mouths, which glistened with saliva between black, rubbery lips—the knife-like claws digging into the dirt below their feet—the hard muscles that shifted under their furry skin as they shook with the final stages of their metamorphosis.

  In front of him was not the couple he had been stalking earlier, but two angry, hungry wolves staring down at him with glowing golden eyes. The larger russet-colored wolf snarled at Robert, stalking closer, until the smaller, black-furred wolf gnashed her teeth at him. The male turned to the female, giving a loud snort before backing up slightly, cocking his large, heavy head in Robert’s direction as if to say, “Ladies first.”

  The female, with fur as black as night, made a noise in the back of her throat towards the male, as if thanking him. She then turned to the ever-paling Robert as he shook with terror at the sight of the two large wolves.

  “O-Oh my God...” Robert felt tears welling at the corners of his eyes as he stared down his death. He turned his head away, unable to bear the sight of the two monsters any longer. His moist brown eyes landed on the white stuffed rabbit from earlier, its black button eyes seemingly staring directly at him from behind the tongues of the campfire that blazed strong into the night. He raised a hand towards the stuffed toy, as if calling out for help—but it did nothing but stare.

  Twin sets of howls pierced the air, snapping his attention back to the wolves.

  Robert’s scream was cut short as the two wolves lunged and began their feast.

  Sweet Lenora

  Bart Hopkins

  Author Dedication

  For my beautiful daughters, Racquel & Jacqueline. You’ll always be my babies.

  About Bart

  Bart Hopkins is originally from Galveston, Texas. He has been serving as an Air Force Meteorologist for over 18 years and is currently stationed in Germany.

  His passions include reading, traveling, photography, writing, and sharing time with his beautiful wife and three awesome children.

  Bart has written two novels: Texas Jack and Fluke.

  Follow Bart

  Website: www.barthopkins.com/blog

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/barthopkinsauthor

  Read More from Bart

  Fluke: www.amzn.com/B007Y4XDZE

  Sweet Lenora

  Lenora’s mother had warned her.

  That was nothing new. Lenora’s mother was always warning her about something, about the many things that could hurt her. Laying there in her oversized, handcrafted, cast-iron bed, servants bustling about, she would dole out morsels of wisdom to Lenora, each and every morning, on the potential dangers that awaited her, crouched hidden along the path of life.

  Her mother was right about many of those things. Mother could be frightfully intuitive about the ways of the world, which always surprised Lenora since her mother was an invalid and bedridden. What made her so wise? Besides Lenora, the only people her mother had contact with were the servants—and they were all overly subservient…not at all talkative. She surely learned nothing from them.

  Newspapers? Out of the question—no respectable lady read the newspaper—that was a man’s duty. Books? A frivolous pursuit, to be sure.

  Yes, her mother had warned her about newspapers and books, too.

  “Sweet Lenora,” she always began, “my sweet child. You have always needed protecting, haven’t you, dear? Come sit down with your mother. I’ll tell you what to watch out for…”

  Then her mother would fill the following twenty or thirty minutes with passionate descriptions about what existed in the world solely to poison innocent, naïve young daughters. Like her.

  “Oh, of course, yes, Mother,” Lenora would reply dutifully, whatever the topic might be. Sometimes it was interesting, such as when her mother described how they all fit into the pyramid of society. Other times it was boring, covering everything from home economics to education to charity work.

  There was an ornate iron clock on the mantle of the marble fireplace in her mother’s bedchamber. When the clock struck seven o’clock each morning, it signaled the end of their morning conversation. Lenora would kiss her mother on the cheek, near the top of her prominent cheekbone, and wish her a splendid day.

  After leaving her mother’s suite each morning, Lenora would make her way into the kitchen for breakfast.

  “Good morning, Berta.” Their cook was a curmudgeonly woman of about fifty.

  “Miss,” Berta replied.

  “Can I have pancakes today, Berta? I am just famished.”

  “Hmm.”

  Sometimes Lenora wondered if Berta’s vocabulary consisted of just two words: “miss” and “hmm.”

  After breakfast, Len
ora would brush her teeth and finish getting ready for school. She wasn’t allowed to wear makeup, but she could do different things with her hair, and she could wear just about any clothes she wanted…well, within the guidelines her mother had established. But that really just meant that she couldn’t expose too much of herself, which she didn’t want to do anyway.

  Most days Lenora lost track of time while she brushed her hair or picked through her dresses. She loved dressing up and some days she imagined she was a princess locked in the tower of a castle with only her clothes and beautiful hair for company. She would inevitably glance at her clock, realize her tardiness, drop her brush on the table, and rush hurriedly from her room.

  Josef wasn’t a chauffeur, even though he drove Lenora to school each day. His duties were much more than that, though it was hard for Lenora to put into words exactly what he did. He was like her mother’s Aide de Camp—her lieutenant—for both household and personal affairs. Almost every day she saw him hunkered down next to her mother’s bedside, receiving whispered instructions. Lenora hadn’t a clue what they could possibly be talking about. As Mother spoke to him, Josef would nod curtly, but never write anything down. He was stoic, efficient, and discreet in all of his doings.

  Josef’s life was a mystery and his dedication baffled Lenora, but she was thankful that her mother had someone to help her. She sometimes reflected on the matter this way: Mom needs him, I suppose...and it leaves me free from having to do it!

  Yes. Josef’s presence was good. She couldn’t imagine the misfortune of carrying out all of her mother’s requests.

  “Good morning, Josef,” she called to him.

  “Goot morning, ma’am,” he always replied in his clipped manner. His accent piqued her curiosity; he was obviously foreign. But…from where? She had asked her mother once, who replied only vaguely that he was acquired from afar—that it was none of our business—and we should mind our manners.

  “Oh, of course, yes, Mother,” Lenora had promptly replied.

  Still, from time to time, she wondered…

  “Pleez, pleez…” he would urge her, bowing slightly, hand turned palm upwards, pointing toward the door that led to the garage and stables. Of course, that was only on days she was running a little behind schedule, which was only two or three times each week. Josef was very punctual; Lenora figured that was part of his immigrant, working-class upbringing. She wouldn’t know anything about that, to be sure!

  Despite the company, mornings were an absolutely splendid part of Lenora’s day. Just a few years before, Mother had sent Josef off on one of his little foraging trips. He was gone for several days. Just like a little squirrel tucking away nuts and berries for the winter, she thought. Mother sent Josef off to get little odds-and-ends all the time, so it was nothing out of the ordinary.

  Except…this time it was. It was completely out of the ordinary—Josef returned with a 1936 Mercedes Benz 260 D!

  Lenora could hardly contain herself. They had an older vehicle, a Buick, but it was uncomfortable. The Buick had riding boards. Driving in the Mercedes was an absolute dream. She loved the rev of the engine—the feeling of raw power beneath her body—it was exhilarating.

  After her first trip in the Mercedes Benz, she had run excitedly to her mother’s room to tell her about it.

  “Mother! Mother! Oh, have you seen it? Have you seen the Mercedes?”

  “No, dear, I have not. I’m sure it’s nice. That’s why I bought it.” Lenora hadn’t stopped to consider that her mother rarely left her bed.

  “Nice?! Oh, it’s more than nice, Mother…it’s amazing! Why…I’ve never experienced anything like it. It’s elegant, with beautiful curves along its body, and when it’s moving you hardly feel a bump.” She was so suffused with excitement she could barely restrain herself. “Oh, Mother…can you go for a drive in it?” she pleaded. “I know you would like it!” She laughed and clapped her hands together, practically glowing. “And, you know, it might be nice to get out of these rooms for a bit…”

  “Lenora!” her mother said sternly, shattering the excitement like a stone through the window.

  “Mother?”

  “Stop behaving that way—it isn’t ladylike!”

  “What?” Lenora replied. She was confused. “I don’t…I don’t understand…”

  “Sweet Lenora, sit down with your sick mother.”

  Dispirited, Lenora obeyed her mother quietly, as she always had. The energy that had permeated her body just moments before seemed to vanish. An invisible weight settled on her shoulders, pushing her into the cushion of the chair next to her mother’s bed.

  “Ladies do not act like that about automobiles. You were practically out of control…prattling about, face flushed, speaking in that dreadful manner about a mechanical carriage. Why, it’s vulgar!”

  Lenora blushed and looked down at her hands, now folded neatly in her lap. Her mother continued relentlessly for fifteen or twenty minutes. She stopped listening somewhere in the middle of it, mind numbed from the verbal lambasting.

  “Oh, of course, yes, Mother,” Lenora replied when her mother finished speaking. It was a reflex as natural as breathing air into the lungs or blinking her eyes.

  Lenora had never minded the eccentricities of her sickly mother that led to her somewhat sheltered life.

  But…Lenora was changing.

  She was getting older.

  And, well…

  Lenora was beginning to feel resentful towards her mother lately. After all, she was almost seventeen years old! She was practically an adult. To have her mother explain things to her as if she were a child…well, it just wasn’t fair.

  She reasoned with herself: If I am childish, it’s her fault! Mother tries too hard to protect me from everything. A bird must spread its wings to learn to fly…oh, however will I learn to fly?

  That was the day she decided maybe she wouldn’t share everything with her mother. Especially if it only resulted in her heart being broken!

  No, she would keep some things secret, just for herself.

  That’s how it all got started with Charlie Swain. It was just a few short months after Lenora’s mother warned her off automobiles. If Mother had known, had the slightest inkling that they were friends, Lenora had no doubt she would have gravely informed Sweet Lenora of the dangers involved in such a relationship.

  “Hey, wow, your family has a Mercedes?” Charlie asked her one day. Josef had just driven away after depositing her in front of the school. He was very formal, very precise…and he dropped her off daily in the same spot. He would no doubt have also preferred to do this at the exact same time each day…of course, that would require Lenora’s assistance.

  “Yes,” she answered matter-of-factly. Talk of the car excited her but she kept her composure outwardly. Charlie’s family was new money and new in town—a rung or two beneath her on the societal ladder.

  “It sure is nice!” he replied. Even though it was obvious, Lenora thought, Charlie didn’t seem to realize they were not supposed to talk to each other. He plunged on, oblivious to her look of disdain. “I’ve never actually seen a Mercedes, but I read about this one when they released it. It’s got a two-point-six liter, 45-horsepower diesel engine…it can go over 200 miles without stopping for gas.”

  “Can it really?”

  “Yes!”

  “I didn’t realize that…” Lenora said to him. She had forgotten all about improprieties and was openly hanging on his every word.

  “It sure can. I think you have the only Mercedes in Carlisle…maybe all of Pennsylvania,” he said wistfully. Then he looked right at Lenora and said, “She’s beautiful.”

  Their eyes met only for an instant then, but an instant was all it took. Lenora blushed and looked one way while Charlie cleared his throat and looked the other.

  “Do you, umm, listen to the radio?” he asked her.

  “No…my mother doesn’t allow it in the house.”

  There was a pause as they both thought abo
ut what to say and fidgeted.

  “Well, maybe your mother would allow you over to our house some day, and we could listen to ours. It’s really something…we can get the jazz channel all the way from Harrisburg.” Charlie smiled then and Lenora couldn’t resist.

  “That sounds swell,” she bubbled.

  “Sweet Lenora,” Mother began one morning several weeks later. “Dear girl, it has come to my attention that you might have eyes for this Swain boy…”

  Lenora nearly fainted when she heard her mother say that. It was true, but how could she know? She felt a wild mixture of guilt, fear, and anger in the pit of her stomach. After all, they hadn’t done anything. Well, except for hold hands twice…

  Josef! It must be Josef, she thought. Mother must have him spying on me.

  She tried to articulate an answer for her mother and was surprised at the unemotional tone she mustered, “Mother, we go to school together…we’ve done nothing untoward.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s true, Lenora. You wouldn’t lie to your mother, dear heart, but I felt I should warn you about these things…”

  “Oh, of course, yes, Mother,” Lenora said. She halfway listened while her mother spoke about a lady’s character, their station in society, and blah, blah, blah…

  “Of course, you are almost seventeen. So, I have decided to let you meet a young man whose position is worthy of your hand. I’ve arranged for him to escort you to the Fall Fair this Saturday.”

  “Oh,” Lenora said, shocked by this turn of events. A blind date arranged by her mother? She hoped her feelings weren’t apparent. What about poor Charlie? “Why, who would that be, mother?”

  “Jakob Schmidt,” Mother replied promptly.

  “Why, Mother, I’ve never seen Jakob Schmidt. He doesn’t even go to school…” She had heard about the Schmidt family—everyone had. They were known publicly for their wealth…and discussed in whispers for how reclusive they were.

  “That’s because his parents want the best for him, dear. He has private tutors—all from the best universities: Yale, Harvard, Princeton.”