The Woman on the Beast_A Season for Horror

by Macie Holloway

  A young priest with square gold glasses was sitting at a large cherry desk and staring intently into an hour glass of sand as it rapidly drained to the other side.

  What the Hell?

  Haiku almost expected some flying monkeys and a green witch to appear.

  He had to find Dorothy and get her back home.

  “Excuse me, sir!”

  The man nearly jumped out of his glasses.

  He knocked over his hour glass, causing it to rain glass and sand across the large cherry desk top.

  Now he was standing and sweating nervously.

  He looked way too young to have already been going bald.

  “Who are you? How did you find me?”

  Who does this guy think he is, the Great Wizard of Oz? It’s not that unusual to find a priest in his office.

  “I’m here on official business for the President of the United States. I’ve come to get Ashley and return her to her father.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Haiku.”

  “Step out one moment, please.”

  Haiku followed instructions as the priest slammed the heavy door so quickly it nearly landed on his nose.

  What a personality!

  He could easily hear the priest move the large desk and tromp down the stairs with heavy uncoordinated steps.

  I hope he doesn’t think he’s keeping his trap door a secret from anybody.

  Haiku shook his head at the hour glass shrapnel.

  What a weirdo.

  The door opened swiftly, as quickly as it had slammed.

  “Hurry, come in. Shut the door and lock it. Ashley says she knows you.”

  “Of course she does. Not saying they don’t exist, but I haven’t met a Japanese jihadist yet.” Haiku kept the jokes coming as he followed the goofy priest down the narrow stairs and into the darkness.

  “HAIKU!” Ashley screamed as she nearly knocked him over with a diving bear hug.

  “Shhhhhhh!!!!” the creepy priest silenced her with a long skinny Silas Marner finger. “No one knows you’re here.”

  Sure they don’t. Haiku was sure the loud scraping sound of the heavy desk across the marble floor hadn’t raised any red flags.

  “Get us out of here, Haiku!”

  He looked around, amused. It was just a dusty old library like something from the Exorcist, not a Venezuelan prison.

  “Scared of books, are you?”

  She didn’t have time to answer. She yanked up her fiancé like a rag doll and flew up the stairs practically dragging him behind her.

  “Guess so,” Haiku said through laughter as he trailed behind, leaving Silas Marner looking lost and disturbed.

  “Nice meeting you, Sebastian!”

  “How do YOU know my name?” he demanded.

  But now Haiku slammed the shelter door in Sebastian’s face.

  Since Ashley was apparently leading the way for no reason, Haiku called from behind.

  “Go straight up the stairs and open the trap door. I broke off the padlock already.”

  Before he finished the sentence, she was already emerging as poor Stefan stumbled behind her, stubbing his toes on every step.

  Poor Stefan.

  “Up the ladder, Ashley. Be careful with Stefan. He’s a man, not Raggedy Ann.”

  He was really more like a boy toy, but Haiku felt sorry enough for him to try to boost his ego.

  The poor kid clearly had a bit in his mouth and a riding crop cracked across his skinny ass by the head school mistress.

  She was no Dorothy, and there was no hot air balloon, but by the look on Stefan’s face, he couldn’t have been more thrilled.

  “Whoa …”

  Finally, Ashley had to stop at the door and let Haiku catch up.

  “Oh, that’s nothing. Haiku has a Bugatti, too.”

  “Whoa …”

  Poor kid. One word vocabulary. Engaged to a young Hillary Clinton. What a life he had ahead.

  “I’m glad you like it, Stefan.” Haiku tapped the hidden button that lifted the entrance door. “You want to DRIVE it back to Georgia?”

  “Aw no, sir. I might wreck it.”

  “I trust you, Stefan. Ashley would wreck it.”

  She sneered in retaliation.

  Haiku was only trying to make Stefan feel better. None of them could wreck it since Clara was really driving.

  “Just crawl in the web like a hammock. Clara, Stefan will be driving the drone today.”

  He beamed. It may have been a complete lie, but Stefan was well-deserving of an ego boost.

  “Requesting location, Master Stefan.”

  Haiku broke out laughing as Stefan looked like he came in his pants. He could tell Ashley had never called him master.

  “Uh, where the Hell do you live, Ashley?”

  “Oz, Georgia, Clara,” Haiku answered for him before Ashley had a chance to overpower him again. “Thirty-two miles past the last BBQ shack on County Rd 42.”

  “Landing destination sir?”

  “Just follow the yellow dirt road, Clara.”

  “Are we off to see the Wizard again, sir?”

  Ashley and Stefan stared at the talking computer panel in disbelief.

  Haiku had purposely programmed Clara with jokes.

  “That’s right, Clara, The Great Wizard of Oz of Georgia – Mason T. Matthews.”

  “Destination set. Oz, Georgia. Engaging time space dilation. Didn’t the devil go down to Georgia, Master Haiku?”

  Again, Ashley and Stefan’s jaws dropped open.

  Haiku let out a ridiculous laugh. Finally, all that programming paid off.

  “That’s right, Clara. He was lookin’ for a soul to steal.”

  NO PLACE LIKE HOME

  Ashley and Stefan could not comprehend how they all sat perfectly still for five seconds before suddenly the door opened.

  “You have arrived at your destination, Master Stefan. Goodbye yellow dirt road.”

  “Ha! You just keep the jokes coming, don’t ya, Clara?”

  “I have no choice, Master Haiku. You are not funny.”

  Now Ashley and Stefan were finally laughing as they climbed out the drone and stepped foot onto the end of the yellow dirt road in Oz, Georgia, where there was no such thing as a GPS signal or pavement, and the President made homemade apple cinnamon moonshine in his under ground shelter.

  Suddenly a large square of yellow dirt lifted up out of the ground, spooking Stefan and making Daphne laugh.

  Mason Matthews crawled out of the dirt in overalls and a John Deer cap.

  “Aw Hell! You brought Justin Bieber with ya?”

  “Give the poor kid a break, Mason. She’s been draggin’ him around by the nuts all day.”

  The President’s eyes misted with joy at the sight of his only daughter.

  “I knew you’d find her, Haiku. How can I repay you? Stay for some moonshine and barbeque?”

  “Please give my moonshine to Stefan. He needs it more than I do. I gotta get back. I got a knocked up girlfriend at home with a dumb blonde babysitter.”

  “Uh, oh. Gonna be a Daddy, huh?”

  “Not sure. We have to wait until it comes out and see if it has Jap eyes.”

  Mason let out a hearty chuckle. He thought Haiku was just kidding.

  “This chink head right here is the real President kids, not me,” Mason joked as he put a fatherly arm around Haiku’s shoulders.

  “Jap, not chink sir.”

  They laughed.

  Bonding over crude humor was a favorite pastime.

  “But I wouldn’t expect anyone from Georgia to figure that out.”

  “Now, lady’s Dr. Makanura has a baby to deliver.”

  His walkie-talkie beeped loudly through his pocket as he crawled into his drone.

  “Snow white and the Barney Rubble, this is Hummingbird Haiku.”

  The walkie-talkie screamed so loudly, it vibrated the drone door.

  “I’M HAVING THE BABY!!!!! WHERE ARE YOU, HAIKU?”

&
nbsp; “Aw, fuck me. On the way, darling. Give me five seconds.”

  “I haven’t got five seconds!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It’s coming NOW!!!!!!!!!!!”

  “Well in that case, I’ll be there yesterday. Over and out.”

  “Destination 2345 St. Claire Ave. Sterling Heights, Mississippi. Land in Drone Parking Lot, 48 hours ago.”

  “Engaging time space dilation …”

  “I got. I got it, Clara. I don’t exactly want to hear the word dilation right now.”

  “Good one, Master Haiku. I see you can be funny.”

  “Thank you, Clara. They say I have my moments.”

  “They also say the baby isn’t yours.”

  Haiku laughed at the unexpected humor. He didn’t remember programming her for that one.

  “Did Sam try to drive you when I wasn’t watching, Clara?”

  “He drove me hard, Master, just like he drove your woman.”

  Haiku burst into laughter.

  Sam had definitely been sweet talking his favorite drone.

  He’s so gonna pay for this one.

  CELEBRITY GUEST SPEAKER

  When the United Nations called for another secret conference call, every leader of every nation showed up once again, expect President Matthews. He was busy eating barbeque.

  All the other leaders, however, showed up early to the conference call. They’d all gotten emails from President Matthews saying he’d found the hacker and would return the money.

  They had no clue that President Matthews didn’t really send those emails, Darth Vader did.

  The meeting was silent as everyone waited for President Matthews to show up.

  Ten minutes later, they got the shock of their life when Lord Vader showed up instead, fully decked out and using a cinema quality voice synthesizing helmet.

  “I am the Dark Lord who stole all your money. ALL OF YOUR MONEY,” his deep voice crackled. It would have sounded ridiculous, but the word money somehow kept everyone’s faces straight.

  “Is this some kind of joke?” Prime Minister Williams spoke for his team as usual.

  “Pull up your bank accounts. I just put $25,000 in each one.”

  The leaders pulled out their phones and checked within seconds.

  Darth Vader was telling the truth.

  “I will give you back half of your money right now in exchange for four planes full of rations and clean water, and a band of armed UN military. You must bring enough cattle branding equipment for 10,000 people. All the airports are closed so fly during the day and pick a landing strip. I want this food, water, branding equipment and armed military of at least fifty men to be at the Sterling Heights community center in Sterling Heights, Mississippi in six days. You may not hand out any food or water unless the person agrees to let you brand 666 on his or her forehead. When all the food and water is gone, you may return. If you follow my instructions to the letter, I will put the other half back into your offshore bank accounts. I will email you the physical location. Check your bank balances now.”

  Frantically, they pulled out their phones out and logged in to find that Darth Vader was an honest Dark Lord.

  “Now, if you agree to follow my instructions to receive the other half, please say, ‘Yes, Lord Vader.’”

  The looks on their faces was worth all the money in the world as there had never been such an odd occurrence at one of their meeting.

  “I’m still waiting.”

  “Yes, Lord Vader,” they all replied nervously at different times, creating a rather creepy harmony that was music to Vader’s ears.

  “I will be watching from afar, and so don’t even think about cutting corners. I will see you next Saturday, or I will use your money to plate the Death Star in real gold.”

  In an instance Vader disappeared, leaving everyone to wonder if that had really been President Matthews in the costume.

  BOTCHED BOOB JOB

  Still wearing his Darth Vader costume, Atticus skipped down the stairs where Mommy Dearest was still strapped to her table alive and well.

  I bet she’s got some bed sores by now. I’ll have to make sure to treat those. Can’t have her dying of infection on me.

  Beyonce’s Flawless song was still playing on repeat and the tortured look in her blue eyes was rather indescribable.

  He needed inspiration.

  He whistled as he changed the tune to Work by Rhianna.

  “It’s finally time for your new breasts, Mom.”

  She moaned and flicked her little mangled nubby tongue.

  He’d moved the T.V. away from the mirrors to ensure she could see the Swastika and 666 lines burned on her face. His lines had swollen up nicely just like a cattle brand.

  That’s gotta be scary to look at. I wonder what she would say if she could talk?

  He grabbed his favorite scalpel and sterilized it methodically. He changed out her bag of fluids and nutrients with a bag of Vistaril.

  “Yay! This is what you’ve been waiting for so long!”

  Being that he wasn’t a trained surgeon, a double mastectomy would have more than likely killed her.

  He would instead only be able to scoop out little portions of breast tissue and cauterize to leave her breasts looking like …Hmmm….. What ARE these boobs going to look like? I know. If Freddy Krueger was really a chick under that striped sweater, this is exactly what his titties would look like. Yes, Freddy Krueger’s face is my artistic inspiration.

  Slowly and carefully he carved out little piece after little piece, cauterizing each one immediately to avoid infection and blood loss.

  He hummed the Rhianna tune and made sure to occasionally look up to enjoy her horrified blue eyes and that little pink nub wiggling in horrified misery.

  “It hurts, don’t it, Mommy? You know what else hurts? Being hit by a car going 90 miles per hour. You know what else hurts? Losing the only two people in your life that you ever loved, but you wouldn’t know anything about that kind of pain. You’ve never loved anybody but yourself.”

  CROWNING QUEEN MYSTERY

  By the time Ebola reached Sterling Heights, transportation lines had long been shut down, grocery stores, gas stations, hospitals and airports were closed also.

  The people were skin and bones.

  Atticus had a gut feeling the Freedom Forces and the No Surrender Squad would come together and execute his orders to the letter.

  They did.

  It had been tough waiting six days, but he wanted to use the number six as much as possible just to be creepy.

  He put on his Vader costume for the event. That way, they’d recognize who was holding their money captive and not fire any cheap shots.”

  He waited until 6 p.m. to make sure plenty of faces got branded in case the majority of the UN workers quit after his ceremony.

  He was Darth Vader and wouldn’t the real Darth Vader be fashionably late?

  I think so.

  It was finally time to cruise up in the only car in town left with gasoline in it.

  The fact that it was coincidentally black and shiny was just an added bonus.

  Of course he brought Mommy. He couldn’t leave her.

  Since he’d pinched off her toes with a monkey wrench she could no longer walk, but he didn’t dragging her now that she only weighed 80 lbs.

  “Finally, Queen Mystery, you get to take your throne in front of everybody!” he chirped merrily as he chunked her in the trunk.

  Had there been any passerbys, it would have been a site to see Darth Vader chunking a naked lady into the trunk of his car.

  The streets were mostly empty, though, since Ebola had finally crept its way into Mississippi.

  “Now THIS is the real family outing I always imagined us having, but you were too busy fucking truckers and shooting heroin. That’s O.K., Mommy. I forgive you.”

  It felt so good to use Darth Vader’s voice.

  He felt so powerful.

  He could already see scrawny creatures with hollowed out cheeks staggering away from t
he door with 666 still smoking from their foreheads.

  “Sold out Jesus for a turkey club, did ya?”

  He parked and popped the trunk.

  He couldn’t forget the lady of the hour – Queen Mystery herself.

  As he waltzed through the community center’s double doors decked out as Darth Vader and carrying a naked mutilated woman over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, everyone inside froze in terrified silence.

  Even the screamer getting branded choked it up for the Dark Lord’s arrival.

  He casually made his way to the podium with the Queen still draped over his arm.

  People shot out of his way left and right, quickly creating a path.

  It felt good to finally have those douchie assholes roll out the red carpet for him.

  He stood proudly behind the podium over the microphone that no longer worked.

  He didn’t need it. His mask synthesizer was loud enough.

  He propped Destiny’s naked mutilated body into a sitting position on a metal folding chair facing the crowd.

  It was more of a slump than a sit, but it would have to do.

  As the UN soldiers and the people of Sterling Heights beheld the creature that no longer resembled a human, bone chilling wave of horror swept across their faces.

  The swastika scar had bubbled up making it even more disturbing.

  The scars of the 666 across her forehead were still hot pink and swollen out of proportion.

  He hoped as the people of Sterling Heights received their brand, they felt a sense of kindredship with the Queen they served.

  Her fingers were bloody scarred misshapen little nubs of different sizes just like her toes.

  Every bone in her body protruded in a ghastly horrific fashion.

  Her breast scars had formed keloids and were still freshly red from the surgery. Just like Freddie Krueger’s face, it appeared they had been either burned or mutilated beyond the point of recognition.

  “My faithful servants, it is a joy to be here at 6 p.m. on this 6th day of the month of June to present to you your queen. By faithfully serving money, ambition, and your selfish goals at the expense of others, you have earned the right to follow in her footsteps. This Queen represents all the earth and its cities, nations, and waters. She also represents you and all that you are and ever will be. I present to you Mystery, The Great Whore of Babylon. Bow to your queen.”