B01M0OJOU7 EBOK

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B01M0OJOU7 EBOK Page 13

by Unknown


  Oh, it won't be so bad after a few hundred years. Besides, being buried in there is the least of your worries.

  Shane stared at the clown with tears streaming down his face. “What do you mean?”

  You'll see. Chuckles smiled.

  Before Shane could respond, he found himself floating in mid-air. His body, now horizontal, floated toward the open coffin. As he looked down, he realized for the first time, that he was naked. He came to rest inside the coffin and looked around. His head lay on a pillow and the entire casket was lined with soft, white fabric.

  Just like in my dreams.

  His hands came to rest folded on his chest and soon, his eyes closed. He tried to open them as panic set in, but nothing happened. He seemed to lose all motor function, and he was more terrified than he'd ever been.

  The clown spoke for the last time, Here we are. The devil thought it fitting that you should relive your darkest fear for all of eternity. You will remain in this casket, feeling the loneliness and desperation your mother felt as she died. You will feel the terror she felt as she took her last breath, knowing she was dying. But that's not all. Remember how you love to rape women? Well, guess what? I hope you enjoy being raped for...well, forever.

  The clown laughed as he walked away, and Shane felt a searing hot pain that began at his rectum and traveled through his insides. As the heat progressed toward his chest, he tried to scream, but couldn't open his mouth. It hurt more than anything he'd ever felt in his life, including the injuries suffered in his car accident, and he was certain he'd burn to death from the inside out.

  The coffin slowly closed, and Shane was powerless to stop it. Within a minute, he was enclosed in pitch blackness, and he started to cry. The heat in his body spread, becoming more intense with each passing moment. Whatever was raping him moved in and out slowly, causing new agony with each thrust. He could smell burning flesh and hair, and the stench nauseated him.

  After a few moments of the worst pain of his life, Shane died. When he awoke, he began the process all over again. Lying in the coffin staring up at the sky. Freedom seemed so close, but he knew it was all an illusion. The lid closed slowly, his breathing increasing, then the pain began. The horrible pain. The smell of a burning body, then the sweet release of death.

  Shane would continue to die over and over again, for all eternity.

  THE MAN

  Essel Pratt

  I met the Devil. His skin was no crimson red, he had no horns, nor did he smell of sulfur and burning flesh. Instead, the aroma of top shelf whiskey and fine cigars wafted from his rotund frame. His jet black pin-striped polyester suit, matching black button up shirt, wingtip shoes, and blood red silk tie, made him appear distinguished and ready to take on the world with confidence. I don’t know if it was a chance meeting or if the Devil approached me with a goal in mind, but the time we spent together haunts my nightmares to this day.

  Gary and I planned on hanging out at the bar on the corner, drink a beer or two, and shoot some pool with tourists. Both of us had the next day off work, but both were mostly broke until Friday. So, we pooled our cash and found we had enough for two beers each, a couple games of billiards, and ten left over to bet on a game or two. We hoped to win against the tourists and make a few bucks for a couple more beers. Plus, tourists like locals, and they normally buy us a few shots just for hanging out. They always have plenty of disposable cash on them. It was a slow night at the bar and there were only a few out of towners, so we drank our first round and played a couple games of pool. No one challenged us; only a few looked our way, so we decided to sit at the bar for our second round of the cheapest on tap, then head home to relax for the night.

  “Two more of the cheap stuff,” I said to the bartender while holding up my glass.

  “This night blows,” said Gary as he wiped his brow.

  “Probably because it is so damn hot outside, and this humidity. Remind me why I moved down to Georgia?” I said sarcastically.

  Gary laughed as he took his beer from the bartender and took a large gulp. I grabbed mine and did the same; it was cold and felt amazing sliding down my throat in the horrid heat. We decided it would be best to chug the beers and head home, where the air conditioning circulated through our apartment with the aid of a couple oscillating fans. Gary threw back his beer and finished before me. I lit a cigarette and decided to sip for the next five minutes until the ashes met the filter.

  “Cas, check that guy out,” said Gary as he pointed his eyes to a man sitting in the dark corner.

  I turned my head just as he took a slow drag on his cigar, illuminating his face in the bright red glow of his ashes. Our eyes met momentarily, and I felt instantly uneasy as he lifted his glass of whiskey, pouring it down his throat, and then taking another drag from the cigar.

  I turned in my stool and threw my last few dollars on the counter for the bartender, “Here’s a few dollars for your tip. Sorry I don’t have more, I’ll get you next time.”

  The bartender waved that it was okay, and started to wash the dirty glasses in the sink. He was always there when we were, although not a friend, he was a great guy. I finished the last few sips of my beer and the last puff of my cigarette before tapping Gary on the shoulder to leave. He was fixated on the baseball game on T.V., a sport I will never understand.

  “Gary, let’s get out of here,” I said annoyed that he wasn’t ready. “I’m getting bored and just want to go back to the apartment and listen to some tunes.”

  “Dude,” he said spinning toward me, “Yeah, let’s go, both teams suck anyway.”

  I stood and patted my back pocket, making sure my wallet was still there. As I grabbed my phone from the bar, a large arm smacked down upon my shoulder. I turned my head to see the man with the cigar standing between Gary and me. His arms were outstretched upon us like we were long lost friends.

  “Barkeep, grab my two friends here a shot of your finest whiskey,” his voice was deep and gravelly. “Hell, give us each 6 shots, and then we’ll get the hell out of here.”

  “Nah, man,” I said. “We don’t have any money to pay for them. We were just leaving.”

  “Boy, I didn’t ask you to pay,” he seemed offended. “Now, drink these shots with me because I am feeling generous, and you boys seem like a fun pair to hang out with for the night.”

  “I’m not one to say no to a shot,” said Gary. “Let alone, three.”

  “Thataboy,” the man said laughing a coarse chuckle while slapping Gary on the back, flinging him into the bar.

  Gary raised the first shot and toasted to the man’s cigar.

  “To cigars!” the man and I said in unison as we all threw back the shots.

  The whiskey burned as it slid down my throat. It was a good heat though; it made me want more, so I grabbed the next shot glass and toasted to friendly strangers. The man chuckled in his raspy voice again and slammed the whiskey, as did Gary and I. He grabbed the third shot and smiled large, his creepily white teeth showing, one capped in gold, and shifted his eyes back and forth between us.

  “To the next bar!” he sounded like he needed a cough drop, bad. Still, we drank to the possibility of another bar. The whiskey was so smooth.

  The man dropped two hundred dollar bills onto the counter and told the bartender to keep the change. He then wrapped his arms around Gary's and my shoulders, and began to walk us toward the door. Outside, I lit another cigarette and unbuttoned the top button of my lightweight flannel, wondering why I wore it on such a hot and humid night.

  “Okay, boys, let me grab my car and I’ll pull it around,” the gravel in his voice was almost painful to my ears.

  “Man, I said we don’t have any money,” I was getting a bit annoyed. “Thanks for the shots, but we need to get home.” I really wanted another shot, maybe a nice dark craft beer to wash it down. But, I decided that going home to listen to some old post hardcore punk albums to remind me of the old days to relax would be a better plan.

  “Dammit, boy
,” his voice deepened through the gravel, “I won’t be disrespected. Now, I’m going to take you boys out, like a good ol’ boy, and treat you to a night out on the town. I’ll be right back. Just wait right here.”

  He wandered off around the corner, and I smacked Gary on the shoulder. “Damn, that man creeps me the fuck out. Let’s just split.”

  “Fuck that,” Gary argued. “He’s going to give us free drinks. This is easier than scamming some out-of-towners over pool for a few bucks. This dude is literally throwing drinks down our throat. If things get weird, we’ll slip out the back and ditch him.”

  Just as Gary finished trying to convince me, a jet black Cadillac pulled up and the driver’s window hummed as it slid down. “Get in, boys, I know just where to go.”

  Gary didn’t hesitate; he ran to the car and slid into the back seat. I couldn’t leave him alone, so I took my time walking to the car. I tried to slide in the back as well, but the man wouldn’t have any of it. He insisted that I sit in the front.

  The leather seats were cold from the frigid air conditioning in the car; it felt great after sweating outside in the horrid heat. The radio, turned down low, played Beethoven. The dash was carved out of real wood, redwood I think, and was varnished to a high shine. All I could think is that if the guy was not a pimp, he was just some rich motherfucker that had no friends and wanted to spend some cash on a couple of penniless twenty-something’s. Although cautious, I decided to go along for the ride and drinks, let loose, and have a little fun. Yet, if the guy were to start getting even the slightest bit weird, I was ready to get out of there.

  “How long you boys been here?” he asked.

  “Both of us have been here about three or four years,” I replied.

  “Well, too bad we hadn’t met in the past, you boys are gonna have the time of your lives,” he laughed through the gravel in his throat and took a long drag on his cigar. The smoke he exhaled smelled sweet as it meandered through the entire car.

  The drive to the next bar only lasted about fifteen minutes, but he talked the entire way. I was mostly fixated on the path we took, in case he turned out to be weird, so I am not really sure what he talked about. However, I sort of remember that Gary was quite chatty with the man.

  When we arrived, the place seemed more upscale than the penny pitcher dives that Gary and I were used to. The man pulled around to the back, where a large man wearing a black tie welcomed our beverage benefactor.

  “Welcome back, sir,” he said, opening the door.

  We followed him through into a dark hallway, around two corners, and into a smoky room. There weren’t a lot of people there. I remember seeing a couple women in black dresses, an older man in a 70’s suit, and the bartender.

  We walked up to the bar, and there were already three shots waiting alongside just as many pints.

  “To good times,” the man said while raising his shot glass.

  “To good times,” Gary and I said in unison before throwing back the shots.

  The liquor was like nothing I tasted before. It had a sweet herb flavor to it. Before I could chase it with a gulp of the dark pint of brew, another shot of the green liquor was placed in front of us, only two this time.

  “Drink up boys, it’s all on me tonight!” he cackled, the gravel still present in his throat.

  Neither of us said no, as we took the shots like men. The man slapped our backs and told us to have fun.

  “I’m gonna go piss and then take care of some business. Barkeep, it’s all on my tab tonight, make sure they don’t go thirsty,” he said waving his hands through the air. “Oh, and boys, the pool table is free.”

  Gary and I grabbed the pints and spent some time testing the table. While we played, a drop dead gorgeous redhead kept the shots coming. Some were whiskey, others were tequila, but most were the green liquor. Oddly, neither of us felt all that drunk, barely even tipsy.

  We must have played fifteen or twenty games before the man reappeared.

  “Hey, it’s the man!” yelled Gary as he approached us.

  The man gave Gary a fist bump and slapped me on the back. He hit hard, each time nearly knocking me off balance, but it surprisingly didn’t hurt. With each drink, I liked him more and more, but was also afraid of him. I couldn’t place my finger on it, but Gary obviously had a man crush on him.

  “Alright, guys, I got a special treat for ya,” he sounded like a child that wanted to show off a new toy. “Let’s have another shot and head outside.”

  The waitress arrived just in time to give us each another shot of the emerald spirits. After I took my shot, she kissed me deep, wrestling me with her tongue, teasing me with her spearmint breath. She teased for at least thirty seconds before passing her gum into my mouth and walking away without looking back. I wanted to follow her, but the man grabbed me tight around the shoulder and walked me out front, where his car was waiting.

  Gary slapped me across the chest saying, “This is the best night ever,” before jumping into the back seat. I got into the front and asked where we were heading.

  “I have a feeling you will like it,” he said as he put the car into gear. “It is a little slice of paradise.”

  He didn’t say another word as we drove through the city and onto a strange road that stretched out into the darkness. The drive seemed to last an eternity, yet time lost all meaning. I stared out the side window, focusing on the gravel path that raced alongside us, looking for some sort of landmark that would reveal our location. There was nothing.

  Up ahead, a red glow began to rise over the horizon. I couldn’t tell what it was, but the man sped up as it came into view. Gary leaned forward in his seat, anxious to see where the drive was taking us.

  The road narrowed and the pavement turned to dirt. The red light was a large neon sign in the shape of a bullseye. There was no name to tell us where we were, but the bass that exploded from inside told us that it was a happening place. Gary and I got out of the car, feeling the bass thump in our chests, and followed the man into the building. Inside, another large man greeted our host and let us beyond an iron gate. Strobe lights revealed flashes of a large packed room. The dance floor was packed and it was standing room only, most people focused on a stage off to the side, just out of our view.

  The man ushered us around a glass block wall to a table set with a spotless white tablecloth, a chilled bottle on ice, and crystal glassware ready for us to use.

  “This is my private table. No one sits here, unless they are my guest.” His voice was deeper, almost threatening.

  “We are honoured,” I said, hoping he would remain calm and not get too weird.”

  Gary tried to give him another fist bump, but the man ignored him.

  “Sit, drink, and I will check on you later.”

  The man walked away and disappeared into a back room and a beautiful redhead approached us to open the bottle. She seemed blurry to me, I had to squint to realize that she was completely naked. It barely registered as she filled our wine glasses with the same green liquid and walked away.

  “Oh, boys, before I forget, I was asked to give this to you,” she said while pulling a wad of dollar bills from between her ass cheeks.

  “What is this for?” I asked.

  “Whatever you want, girls, lap dances, whatever you desire. But, the liquor is free.” She blew us a kiss and walked away.

  “How much is there,” Gary asked me.

  I counted it careful, “Holy shit, there is a thousand dollars here.”

  “Hell yeah, give me a wad of that,” said Gary as he grabbed for the cash.

  “Dude, are you serious?” I asked. “Who just gives someone a grand and free drinks? We shouldn’t have even come. This is too strange.”

  I chugged the liquid in my glass and felt instantly dizzy. The blurriness in my eyes got worse. I grabbed the bottle and read the label, realizing it was absinthe we had been drinking all night long. I began to wonder if it was all real, or just a hallucination.

 
A pair of nude women walked up to the table and sat next to Gary and me. The blonde to my right placed my hand between her legs as she eyed the wad of cash in my hand. I started to feel uncomfortable and pulled my hand away, asking her to grab me a beer. She sighed as she stood and walked away, swinging her ass all the way to the bar. The other girl followed, after enticing Gary with a deep and passionate kiss.

  “Man, we need to get out of here,” I warned. “I’m telling you, something isn’t right.”

  “Chill out, I’m going to go get a lap dance and some more of this tasty green gold,” said Gary.

  It was getting hard to focus on anything, so I decided to hold off on any more drinks and attempt to sober up. I felt fine all night, but when it hit me, it hit hard. I wanted to go to sleep until the next morning, but knew better.

  Gary disappeared before I could stop him. I started to get up to find him, but the blonde returned with my beer.

  “Where is this place?” I asked.

  She just laughed and walked away. I was getting pissed and just wanted to leave. I wanted the man to come to the table, I wanted Gary to come back, I wanted to go home. More than being pissed off, I was scared. The man’s gravelly voice echoed in my head, and the spot he kept hitting me started to hurt, burn even. Without realizing, I chugged the beer that the blonde brought me and slammed it down on the table, breaking the mug in the process. A shard of glass sliced open my hand. It wasn’t a bad cut, but enough to stain the white tablecloth with blood.

  “God damn it,” I said aloud.

  I sucked on the blood until it stopped. It hurt like hell and pissed me off more. I decided to find Gary and get the hell out of there. My head spun as I stood, and it was difficult to walk at first. When I finally found my footing, I walked the perimeter looking for any sort of room that may seem like a place where lap dances might take place. The first door I came to was nothing more than a bathroom. The door was unlocked and I walked in on a stripper sniffing a line of coke off of the toilet seat. There were obvious piss stains on the floor, a stark contrast to the pristine outer room.

 

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