Dark Gardens

by Erb, Thom

  By-Tor94- replied at 8:55pm

  Sounds perfect, Mom! That will give me time to leave a Dad a note and pack some stuff. Do you want to come here?

  Entre Nous sent at 8:56pm

  No hon, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Do you remember where the elementary school playground is? How about meeting there hon?

  By-Tor94- replied at 8:57pm

  I sure do, Mom! You used to take me to play on the swings! I will be there within the hour! I cannot wait to see you! I love you, Mommy.

  His spastic fingers typed the words before he was even aware. He didn’t care. She was his mommy. The world be damned. A smile grew on his face and he thought it might split it in two. He hadn’t been this happy in a very long time, if ever.

  Entre Nous sent at 8:59pm

  I love you too, Hon. A new life for both of us begins tonight! I promise to make up for all those years I’ve been gone! You won’t be lonely anymore Spencer. I swear to you! See you soon!

  She signed off. Spencer felt as if he was floating three feet off the matted, beer-stained carpet. He had so much to do and so little time.

  “By-Tor and the Snow Dog”

  Spencer almost wept as he thought of his vast collection of old paperbacks and hard cover books. The stacks of books seemed sad as he closed his bedroom door. They had been his best and constant friends since he learned how to read, and leaving them behind felt like ripping out a lung through his foot. I can find them again or, maybe Dad will ship them to me? Heck, that’s if he even talks to me ever again. Warm tears fled down his cheeks as the zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He didn’t want to hurt his Dad, but he knew that this was the best thing for everybody. His Dad wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore or hide his addictions.

  It didn’t talk him long to pack. It took him much longer to write the goodbye note. It was short and succinct. They way Spencer always wrote. He tried to convince himself that it was his economy of words “style” but the truth was he didn’t know what to say. A simple thanks for everything you’ve ever done for me Dad. I’m going to live with Mom. You have my cell number. I’ll call you soon. I love you. That seemed to suffice. He left the note on the fridge, closed and locked the trailer door, hoped down off the rain soaked porch and headed downtown.

  He wiped away the tears and tried to ignore the piranha chomping away at his innards and cut under the many ancient, looming maple’s that lined the fence to the playground. The wind picked up causing the maple leaves to rustle nervously and light raindrops delicately pattered the trees.

  Spencer’s sweaty hand absently brushed along the cold fence as he followed it behind the school toward the playground. Hmm…that’s weird. No lights on…probably more budget cuts. He would be out of here soon and none of those trifling things would matter anymore. He clenched the strap of his backpack and turned behind the school.

  Pitch-blackness soaked the playground, save an occasional lightening strike off in the distance. Normally he’d be freaked out, but somehow the thought of seeing his mom again and leaving this place held all those old fears at bay.

  He knew the playground well, even in the dark. He passed the monkey bars, seesaws and within a couple of minutes felt the familiar chilly chains of the swings. He left the heavy pack on the damp sand and plopped onto the center swing. This was their favorite. The memory made him smile and warmed his insides. His mind swam with the possibilities of his new life that couldn’t start soon enough.

  A howling wind swept down from the old cemetery that overlooked the school. He shivered and flipped open his cell phone, frowned. 10:16 the cold blue display read. She’s late. “Don’t worry. She’ll be here,” he whispered into the night air.

  Another thirty minutes passed and Spencer’s hope waned with every passing minute. He had texted and even called his Mother. However, both got no response. Tears fled his eyes and he grabbed the strap of his backpack, but then dropped it as his loud sobs bounced off the school’s brick walls. His heart fractured and all hopes of happiness were lost. Suddenly, the entire playground was awash in yellow brightness.

  The large security lights hummed and flooded the area. Spencer jumped and covered his eyes from the harsh light. All he could see were multicolored flashes of light.

  “Weaver, just what I’d expect from a big fat baby!” Spencer knew that voice. He felt his world drop out from under him. His stomach cinched into a million knots. His head swam.

  Justin Martin.

  All around him, laughter filled his ears, as his assaulted eyes slowly began to function again.

  “Come on. Why so quiet now? You’ve been a busy little boy with all the texting and IMing you do.” Justin’s large frame stood silhouetted atop the wooden play set. He squinted to see over fifty people surrounding him on all sides. All of them were rolling with mocking laughter and dark stares.

  “Oh Mommy, I loooove you!” Justin laughed. His voice echoed off the brick walls of the school.

  “What…what the hell are y–” Spencer tried to speak, his voice failed.

  “Your mommy ain’t coming, shitbag. She never was.” Justin stared down at him, his tone almost lyrical.

  “Ain’t that right, babe?” He motioned and Bekah stepped forward with a thick stack of papers and wearing an evil sneer.

  “Spence, I’m so sorry I left you all alone for all these years. I miss you so much,” Bekah read from the stack. In her other hand she held out a cell phone.

  “Who? Wh–?” Spencer whimpered out, slowly piecing it together. Tears raced down his flushed face. His bulging eyes wept and he could see that the hysterical crowd had their own stacks of paper.

  “Fat ass, turn this way. I wanna get your good side,” Sammy’s words giggled out from in front of Spencer. He was holding a camcorder.

  “I don’t under... wha…” Spencer tried again, swaying in place

  “Smile pretty, Tubbalicious. You’re lard ass will be up on YouTube before you can say, ‘You want fries with that?’” The circle of laughter swelled around him as they all took turns reading all the Mom texts Bekah had sent to him.

  Justin read Spencer’s parts, over accentuating his most sensitive lines. This went on for an hour as the vile crowd’s cruel laughter lolled and broke against Spencer like punishing ocean waves on jagged rocks. He fought to breathe, and every time he tried to get away, the crowd shoved him back into the Swing Set Arena.

  “Oh, my favorite part is when you say you wanna kick my ass. Well, let’s see what ya can do, bitch!” Justin hopped down from the wooden bridge and sauntered over to Spencer’s quivering form. Bekah took over reading the taunting texts, acting as a sadistic soundtrack to Spencer’s destruction, while Sammy made sure to get it all on video.

  “I…I didn’t...” Spencer’s words were broken.

  Justin grabbed Spencer by the hair and yanked him to his feet. The big teen leaned into Spencer’s tear stained face and sneered.

  “Kick my ass huh, bitch?” He said through clinched teeth.

  Spencer twitched; overwhelmed, scared.

  “Make sure you get this Sammy.” Justin’s cold gaze never left Spencer’s wide green eyes.

  The next thing Spencer felt was a testicular wrenching pain in his stomach and one final blow to his jaw. Coppery fluid filled his swelling mouth as Justin threw him to the ground. He knelt down next to Spencer’s limp form.

  “Never fuck with me, Weaver. You will always lose! You wanna know why fat fuck? Do ya? You are a loser and I always win.” He stood up, put a boot into Spencer’s stomach, and spit a wad of chew on his cheek.

  “You’re a damn joke. Why don’t you do yourself and the whole world a favor and just put a cap in your own ass and end it all.” Justin turned and walked toward the camera and held up double “devil horns” while his tongue flicked the cold air. The crowd erupted into a barbarous symphony of hatred.

  Darkness took Spencer.

  “The Pass”

  He woke alone. He didn’t know
how long he had been out, but the cold rain still pounded him, as he lay in a puddle of watery sand. Every step he took was a new experience in pain. He couldn’t stop crying. His world had been destroyed in a matter of minutes. His mother wasn’t real. Those assholes; Justin and Bekah made it all up. Pain tore into every shred of his being. How could’ve he been so blind? So gullible? Cold rain escorted him all the way to his dilapidated home.

  He threw the heavy pack on the couch and sobbed uncontrollably. He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and screamed as he chucked it against the wall. It shattered into pieces.

  He plopped onto the chair and stared at the computer screen. His mouth agape; as all over Facebook, Sammy had already posted links to the freshly made video of Spencer’s humiliation. It had already gotten over 3,000 hits and comments that echoed Justin’s suicide solution. He watched it repeatedly. Spastic torrents rained. His mind filled with dark clouds. Long moments passed before he realized he had his father’s .38 in his trembling hands. All he knew was that it felt good.

  It felt right.

  Brutal thunder and lightning strikes outside washed out the gun blast. While inside the dark trailer, the faint blue glow of the monitor cast dark shadows on the family portrait; now covered in splattered blood, flesh, bone and Spencer’s brains.

  “The Body Electric”

  Spence… Honey…

  Yellow and blue tendrils swirled and slithered around Spencer’s mind. The voice, distant at first, then grew stronger and direct.

  He knew that voice.

  Chief, it’s really me. You’re with me now. We’re together.

  Mom? He cried out. It felt like a dream. Bright flashes of light surrounded him. His body swam among the sparks and pulses. Electricity bristled through him. His nervous system buzzed and surprisingly, no pain.

  Yes. It’s me. You’ve joined me. I’ve been waiting for you.

  Where am I?

  You’re dead hon. But it’s okay. We are together again. Pain and loneliness are forever gone.

  His eyes focused and it seemed as if he were in a circuit board. Resistors, processors and conductors buzzed in busy action. Blue light flew through and all around him. The yellowish-blue image blipped and cam into full view.

  Before him appeared a digitized image of his mother.

  It is you!

  If I’m dead...that means you’re…

  Dead. Yes, Chief. When I left, I killed myself. Your father didn’t have the heart to tell you. But it’s okay now. We are together.

  Where are we?

  We are pure energy. In death, we have returned to the universal source. We can flow through the world through anything that holds a current. Our souls are electric. It’s beautiful hon. The internet is our freeway.

  Really? Holy cow. That’s amazing.

  It is. What’s even better? I can help you get even with those horrible kids that did this to you!

  From his new vantage point inside the computer, he could make out his blood-covered lifeless form. His mind prickled with sadness, excitement and the potential of his new life.

  Show me how, Mom.

  “One Little Victory”

  Justin Martin’s bedroom was dark and filled with Nag Champa and pot smoke. The storm raged outside and bright flashes of lightening lit up the shadow-filled room. He sat in the old recliner with a handful of Bekah’s hair in his hands. He jerked her head up and down on his lap, as she slathered and slurped between his hairy legs.

  “Am a doim somfin’ wong?” Bekah sounded as if she was sucking on a slack flounder.

  Justin’s laptop screen lit up on the bed next to them. They’d been watching Spencer’s video, repeatedly. It should have made him extra hard and Bekah liked it that way. However, he’d been having issues, lately. Bekah bitched and blamed the steroids. What did she know?

  Can’t bitch with your mouth full. He clinched his jaw and shoved her head violently down on his member.

  She pulled away and wiped her mouth. She gave Justin a frustrated look. “What the hell’s wrong?” She flicked he small, limp penis.

  The laptop’s screen flickered as a bolt of lightning struck a nearby tree flooding the room in white light. The smell of burnt ozone, singed maple filled their nostrils. They didn’t even notice when the small red light of the webcam turned on the laptop.

  “Nothin’. What you talking about?” He grabbed her head and tried to force her back down on him.

  “Don’t play that again, J. You haven’t been able to get a hard on in months. You still shooting up with that shit?” She pulled away and sat back on her haunches.

  “AH, hell no! I told you I quit that shit.” He covered his groin with his hand.

  “Damn, J. It’s bad enough you have a dick the size of elbow macaroni. The least you could do is get what you do have hard.” She held her thumb and forefinger together, almost touching.

  “Fuck that. I.. What the…” His voice trailed off.

  “What is it?” She asked.

  “It’s fuckin’, Weaver.” His voice almost a whisper. He was staring and pointing a shaky hand at the laptop screen on the corner of the bed next to her.

  “What? Where?” She laughed.

  He pointed at the computer.

  “What the hell?” She huffed.

  On the screen was Spencer, lumped over in his chair, his face looking like a deer splattered by a tractor-trailer. A bloody, fleshy smile on his decimated face.

  His voice crackled through the laptop.

  I hope you enjoyed your little joke. Very funny. You got your wish. The best part…I’ll have the last laugh.

  Another voice rang in their ears.

  Oh and dear, you sound nothing like me.

  They stared blankly at the screen.

  The house went dark. Blue arcs shot and lurched, back and forth, between Justin and Bekah’s electrified bodies. Every available watt now was surging through them. Their eyes bubbled and exploded out of their skulls. Their skin bubbled and blistered, popped and slid off their bones. They never even got a chance to scream.

  The air smelled of burnt hair, flesh and charged ozone. Justin and Bekah’s bodies where now just slushy, reddish, grey piles on the bed.

  That felt great, Mom! I think Sammy needs a visit.

  Anything for you, Chief.

  The Cleansing

  The Cleansing

  Carrigan Springs Community College

  Carrigan Springs, NY

  Melissa Stephens was so excited her night class was almost over. It was Old man Dunham’s statistics class, and there were only fifteen minutes left. Soon, she would be across campus in twenty and be downing her second Jolly-Rancher shot in twenty-five. The thought made her mouth water. The wind was picking up, causing the bare limbs to assault the cold glass. Her taunting thoughts of a good buzz were interrupted by pellets of rain began to paint the panes and blur her view of the dark parking lot and

  “Excuse me Ms. Stephens. What would the answer to question six be? If we aren’t interrupting your little daydream?” The class erupted in laughter, shaken her from her thirsty haze, Startled, she knocked her textbook off the desk. This only caused another raucous round of laughter and a piercing glare from the crotchety old professor. She felt her pale cheeks turning red reached down to pick up the book as a pair of thin, even paler hands than hers fetched them up and placed them on her desk. She jerked back in her seat and looked up at the tall figure smiling down at her. Silence replaced the raucous laughter.

  Before her, dressed all in black, was a thin, yet muscular figure. At first glance, it could be male or female. The body was slender and hard packed, as a swimmer or gymnast body would be. He was all male she quickly decided wearing torn, black jeans, tight, bulging in all the right spots. Her eyes trailed up the lanky body to see a faded Ramones t-shirt underneath an even more faded leather jacket with glimmering chains hanging down from the half-torn epaulette. She hadn’t noticed him in class before and once her eyes fell upon his sullen, sorrow-fi
lled face, she wondered why she hadn’t.

  “Hey,” His voice was of velvet and a lilting whisper that made her tanned ears prickle.

  She tried to speak but words were a foreign thing to her and she just blushed and smiled wide at the hottie before her.The classroom seemed to shrink and the rest of the students became a blur of swirling colors and sounds.

  “Welcome to our class Mr. McClellan. Kindly take your seat.” The professor waved a wrinkled hand at the young man went back to the tired lesson.

  “Sorry Mr. Dunham.” The young man sat down behind Melissa and she could smell his cologne. She glanced back at him, there was something in his eyes, and captivating smile and she felt herself get wet and blushed. She caught him smiling at her.

  The last minutes of class dragged on for what felt like hours and when Mr. Dunham waved them away, she quickly turned around to find the seat behind her empty.

  She really needed a drink.

  Dante’ Santiago’s Estate

  McCoy Hills, PA

  Dart-like rain pelted the bulletproof glass of the large bay window as slices of lightening lit up the dimly lit library of the immensely popular romantic vampire writer. The wind whipped at the lavish shutters but the entranced writer paid no heed. He was lost in his latest cookie-cutter, teenie-bopper Buffy rip-off novel. He blissfully ignored the supposed “true” vampire-philes, as the pre-orders alone to the sequel to “Midnight Moon” had already grossed half a million dollars and the movie rights had been signed away over a year ago. He slept quite well at night on a virtual pile of money.