Dark: A Horror Anthology

by Steve Wands

  He looked around and saw that no one had seen what had happened. A few people strolled by the river but they were far away and walking in the opposite direction. John turned and ran back to his apartment. He didn’t stop the whole way there. By the time he reached his door he was breathing heavily. His heart beat against the inside of his rib cage with a maddening force. The key turned in the lock and he hurried inside. Once inside he fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

  He stayed that way until his breathing slowed. Slowly he got back to his feet. His whole body was still shaking. As he began to walk to his bed he glanced at the kitchen table. He gasped in horror as imbedded into the tabletop was the knife. Next to it was carved the words ‘You Can’t Escape Me.’

  John ran into the bathroom and locked the door. He splashed water onto his face and looked at himself in the mirror. Pain began to flair through his stomach. The wound had finally gaped open. He took off his shirt and saw in the mirror the open gap in his stomach. It was bleeding steadily but would only cause discomfort in the end. He then felt his chest over his heart. Already he could see a small white line. Tears began to stream down his face. He turned and filled up the bathtub with cold water. As he slipped into the cold he hoped that the end would come quickly.

  *

  Deep Lies the Murky Floor

  By Casey Criswell

  “Come on chicken shit, you’re the only one who hasn’t swam across.” Billy Connolly was typical for a twelve year old bully; pudgy in girth, pig faced in both appearance and attitude. Seldom did he pass the chance to impose himself upon those of lesser stature.

  “You know Billy, I don’t really care if everybody else did it. I’m not going to.” Simon was the antithesis of Billy. Slight of frame, bony in nature, he often set off the feeding instinct in many a mother who gazed upon him at the beach.

  That summer at Price’s Pond was a long one for Simon. The pond was private swimming hole filled with those whose parents were privileged enough to afford the membership fees and was small to an adult gazing upon its width. For those of Billy and Simon’s age, the far shore was a vast distance indeed.

  Simon could swim. It wasn’t a matter of the lack of skill or a fear of drowning. He spent the bulk of that summer practicing his strokes in the deeper area just out side the ropes blocking off the shallow end. Leaving himself able to touch the sandy floor of the pond with the tip of his toes he was always sure of being able to catch himself when needed. With people like Suzanne Jenkins in attendance every day, he could not afford to be seen within the confines of the children’s beach.

  The problem stalking Simon that summer was Billy Connolly. It was well known that Billy came from a family lacking in the funds to provide such a wistful summer getaway for their portly child. When the final bell of the school year rang, Simon breathed a heavy sigh of relief knowing that his summer should provide a relief from the attentions of Billy for a solid three months. That sigh turned to one of shock and dismay when Simon and his mother drove through the gates of Price’s Pond for the first trip to the beach that summer where he found Billy Connolly throttling a far younger patron in exchange for soda.

  Billy’s existence was marginally miserable. With poor parents unable to provide him the luxuries that many of his peers enjoyed he took it upon himself to obtain them. Be it intimidation, physical threats, or physical damage, he cared not. It was well known that few people cared to be in the presence of Billy aside from his trusted friends, so when Billy saw a flash of love or admiration between two classmates, he made it his personal mission to end that flash whenever possible. Because of this, Suzanne’s presence made Simon’s summer one to loath as opposed to one to remember.

  The other problem plaguing Simon that summer was the age-old tradition of swimming across the pond. Some considered it a right of passage between the ages of eleven and thirteen; facing ones fears and stuff like that. They would build up their courage and set their eye upon the far shore of the pond and make the swim. The pond grew deep across the middle the water growing cold from the murky depths that sat below the surface, the depths hiding untold terrors. What did the blackness hold below your kicking feet? What exactly was that slimy thing that scraped across your thigh as you pulled yourself out of the water onto the far shore? For an active twelve year old, the possibilities were endless. That which you could not see became far scarier as you fought your way to the other side, much like the transition from youth to teen.

  “You know Suzie’s watching you don’t ya?” Billy wore a sneer of menace across his lips. He knew full well where Simon’s weaknesses lie.

  Simon took a deep breath to steel his tongue, clenching his fists at his side to contain his frustration and anger. His summer was an endless stream of similar threats, however this was the first to call out his manhood in front of the one person he wished to look tough in front of.

  There was a larger fear to Simon’s reluctance to swim the pond. Many agreed in his reluctance to attempt the passage yet they were able to overcome their fears. Simon however held on to a deeper seeded terror when his mind turned to thoughts of the task. He knew he could swim yet he was far from being strong. Often tiring quickly he did not know if he had the strength to make the entire trip. What if his asthma reared its ugly head as he made his way? What if his legs should begin to burn with painful cramps as was known to happen when he spent too much time in the water? And perhaps the strongest angle keeping him from proving himself in front of Suzie; what was hiding in the inky depths below his toes as he crossed into the icy deep water in the center of the pond?

  “It’d be a shame if you looked like a wienie man before your little girlfriend!” Billy let loose with a throaty cackle as he poised his face mere centimeters from the tip of Simon’s nose. The smell of soda that Billy stolen from some random victim drifted into Simon’s nostrils; he could smell the distinct citrus flavor of Mountain Dew upon his breath.

  For a change, Simon actually agreed with Billy. He had worked hard on his image that summer, always aiming to impress the young Ms. Jenkins. Making sure his hair was always combed just right, silently flexing his muscles as he crossed her path, always looking away just at the right moment so that she didn’t catch him staring; all would be for nothing if Billy humiliated him in front of her. How could she possibly be interested in a man who failed to swim Price’s Pond, especially if he was the only boy who failed the passage that summer?

  Simon took a deep breath and drew himself up tall as he looked Billy in the eye; “I can’t do it today. I don’t have my inhaler.”

  Billy’s head cocked back as loud bursts of laughter escaped his lips. “Aww, is wittle Simon making excuses?”

  Simon turned a bright crimson as he noticed many heads turn in their direction at Billy’s outburst.

  “Listen chump, your sad excuses aren’t going to help.” Billy poked his index finger into Simon’s chest as he drove home every syllable. “This is the last day of summer, school starts next week. You don’t swim it today, I’ll make sure the entire school knows just how big of a pussy you are; especially Suzie Jenkins.”

  Billy folded his arms across his chest as a smug look of satisfaction settled upon his eyes. The large boy took a step back knowing that he had upset Simon. The look of fear that flashed across Simon’s face was enough to make Billy feel that the day was a day well spent, despite what else may arise.

  A group had begun to form around the two boys facing off upon the beach. Most were quiet as they all waited for Simon’s response. Some took the chance to add extra tension to Simon’s situation, as kids are often known to do; they began to discuss loudly the tales of their own passages across the pond. “I don’t know what it was, but something big brushed against my foot” and “I swear I saw a huge fin stick out of the water when I reached the middle” could be heard whispered in the background. Simon gulped loudly as he scanned the crowd in search of Suzie’s face; the rest were inconsequential to his decision.

  “
Come on cupcake, time’s running out!” Billy reached out with his meaty right hand and gave a quick shove to Simon’s shoulder. The crowd buzzed with this show of strength from the master of ceremonies. “You got one minute to decide, or I’m going to decide for you!”

  Simon remained silent as he looked through the faces surrounding him. So far he had not seen Suzie amongst the children surrounding him. He could stand to lose face amongst the boys in his group of friends; they’ve all had one thing or another that they lacked the strength to accomplish. There would be a silent understanding amongst those closest to him, he was sure of that. But Suzie would not have that connection; her view of this young boy wanting her attention would be settled upon a simple yes or no.

  Not seeing her in the crowd surrounding him, Simon turned back to face Billy, a come back of epic proportions forming itself in his mind. He may not be man enough this day to tackle his right of passage, but he could build a reputation of his own should he choose just the right words to attempt a counter attack upon the bully standing before him.

  “You know what fat-ass,” Simon smiled inwardly as the crowd around him audibly gasped at his audacity in the face of humiliation and pain. Billy’s smug visage morphed into a mask of anger and rising red.

  In the distance Simon saw out of the corner his eye a vision of beauty enter the circle; Suzie had come to see what the fuss was about. His anger trailed off as his mouth hung open; how would he answer with her there to bear witness?

  Billy clenched a ham-sized fist and lifted it before him, preparing to pummel the scrawny boy who dared stand up to his threats. Cocking his arm back, he was prepared to unleash his fury upon Simon. He stumbled when an unexpected phrase tumbled meekly from the lips of his target.

  “All right. I’ll go.”

  *

  Stopping briefly to tread water, Simon glanced back towards the beach to judge the distance he had covered; what felt like miles turned out to be merely a few yards. The crowd that had gathered to watch his attempt at swimming across the pond was growing as word of his swim traveled along the beach.

  He pushed his arms in a slow back and forth motion to keep himself afloat; he felt downwards into the dark water with his toe to judge his depth. Feeling nothing but a growing cold far below him and the tickle of seaweed rising up from the muddy lakebed, he felt slightly reassured knowing that the lakebed was close by. With a sigh he turned and began to swim once again.

  To keep his fears in check, Simon carried on a dialogue with himself as he made his way towards the center of the pond. “You can do this” and “Almost halfway” was heard as he coaxed himself along. Peering to the shoreline he spied a group of children making their way around the pond to wait for him on the far side. It was quite an accomplishment to swim across the pond and congratulations were in order when one climbed out onto the grassy shore.

  As he swam, a panic arose in Simon. He wasn’t positive but it felt as though a slimy and spiny something had brushed against his outstretched leg. Stopping once again to tread water, he frantically scanned the water around him in an attempt to see into the depths. Unable to spy anything beyond the muddy surface he probed once again with his feet to locate the culprit; what he discovered was the growing cold about him and the lack of weeds tickling his feet. He was on his own from this point forward; he was in the middle of the pond.

  Continuing on his swim, Simon pondered the consequences of giving in to Billy’s pressures. Once completed he no longer would have to worry about the ridicule of not tackling the swim. He would be a brother with all who accomplished the task, surely this would bring along a sense of new friends. Also, Suzie would see him as a man, a man who both made the swim across Price’s Pond and one who stood up to Billy Connolly. Surely this factor would outweigh his newfound brotherhood and friends. Regardless of the positives, his nerves remained on high alert as he neared the center of the pond.

  With a start Simon felt the clammy caress across his leg return. As a dog licks one’s hand in a friendly greeting, Simon felt a similar sensation across the arch of his foot.

  As sudden as its arrival, the presence went away once more. Not pausing this time to locate the source of torment, Simon poured his strength into his breaststroke in an effort to speed his swim across the lake. Muscles burning, the fear pushed him on causing his breath to come in ragged gasps.

  Fear began to sink its way into his chest with icy fingers as his asthma began to rear its ugly head. Brought on by exertion and fear, he began to wheeze as he gasped for breath. His stroke faltered as he began to flail in panicked motions. His splashing drew the attention of the kids standing on the far shore. “Hey, is he having problems?” one was heard to ask. Fighting against the pull of the murky blackness below as well as the tightening of his chest, Simon could make out the children waving at him. The notion that he was at the halfway point was a slight relief to his current struggle.

  Pausing in his fight to stay afloat Simon grew aware of something massive looming beneath his feet. There was neither the caress of slime nor the prickling of spines as in earlier encounters, just the passage of something far larger than he was far below him. Regardless of it being fact or imagination, it caused Simon’s panic to rise along with the burning of his clenched chest.

  Teetering upon giving up, Simon considered throwing in the towel. Surely he would face ridicule and the loss of affection from that special girl, yet he saw no other way to avoid the conclusion. His fear was overtaking him and his breath was coming shorter. He needed to call for help; facing the group of boys on the far side of the pond, he began to wave his arms and attempted yell.

  “Hey, what’s he yelling?” one of the children asked?

  “Don’t know, he’s too far out” was the reply.

  Seeing that no one was hearing his call for help, Simon reluctantly decided to finish his swim across the pond. Despite what anybody thought of him, death was no way to end his summer vacation, a fact that Simon was acutely aware of. Resuming once more he inched ever closer to his destination.

  Feet kicking furiously, Simon traveled only a few feet before he felt his toes kick against something solid. Fear was his initial reaction as the recollection of his unseen visitor from moments ago was fresh upon his memory. Continuing to kick past this newfound obstacle, he probed below him as he swam over. The feeling beneath his fingers was firm and unyielding and covered with fine gritty sand. Testing his weight against the apparent sandbar, Simon let his arms cease their panicked beating and stood tentatively upon the hidden island. Head and shoulders rising above the surface, relief poured throughout his body as he sucked in a long deep breath to ease his sore lungs. Simon had discovered a sand bar in the middle of the pond giving him a brief respite in the face of failure.

  Relieved in the chance to rest his tired arms, Simon smiled broadly. He was going to make it across the pod after all. Gazing at the children huddled on the shore, he waved at them enthusiastically knowing that he found his break.

  “How’s he doing that?” The child voicing the question looked puzzled as he watched Simon grinning madly in the center of the pond.

  “I don’t remember a sand bar out there when I went across.” This second child showed an equally puzzled look as Simon stood magically out of the water.

  Confusion and surprise was a mixture upon the faces of the young boys watching Simons swim. Most stood with their arms limp to their sides or their hands cocked above their eyes to shade them from the sun. Simon was confused at their lack of excitement at his find in the center of Price’s Pond but shrugged it off; he was going to save his fate yet.

  As he stood watching Simon noticed that the group awaiting him upon the shore was moving away. They stood stock still along the lapping edges of the shore, yet they were growing farther away at a creeping pace. This discovery sinking into his young brain, he noticed that they had made this connection as well; many of the kids were beginning to point excitedly in his direction.

  He muddled through th
e idea that his sandbar was in fact moving. Gazing towards his feet he tried to see the shelf of land below him. The water, which was at his knees when he first stood up, was now around the waist of his trunks. He was sinking as well as moving. Watching the water level creep upwards along the length of his body, he felt a sudden shift below him. Simon threw his arms above his head in an attempt to balance himself as his fear began to rise once more; sandbars were not mean to move as far as Simon knew.

  Searing pain ignited the calf of his left leg, the suddenness causing the boy to gasp. From knee to ankle he could feel a firm tendril wrapped tightly, soft and clammy at first touch. Soon thereafter his leg began to twinge much like the onset of poison ivy. Intense itching then followed the burn, both progressing upwards along his leg.

  Simon let out a scream of pain as the appendage wrapped about his leg began to pull him downward. His feet still planted firmly upon the grainy surface moving below him, he began to sway off balance from the pressure of being pulled harder.

  Simon began to thrash and attempt to jerk his leg free of its confining trap. Each forceful tug caused the tentacle to grow tighter, the burning grow sharper, the itch spread faster. Misery and pain painted itself upon the boys face and he began to scream louder, his pleas echoing off the water.

  Those gathered on the far shore watched as Simon began to fight against an invisible foe. “Do you think he has a cramp?” one child asked. “Must be,” replied another.

  Simon sensed the bulk beneath his feet shift, pulling him towards the far end of the pond further from his friends. As his course shifted the slimy appendage increased its pull causing him to tumble into the muddy water. The beating of his arms rose to a frantic pace as he fought to keep his head above the surface.

  Along the shore the boys gathered in wait began to trot along, keeping pace with the retreating Simon. Many shouts of excitement and worry could be heard as they watched astonishingly at Simon’s sudden change of course.