9 Tales Told in the Dark 20

by 9 Tales Told in the Dark

  I have to pay the Madam.

  “Pay her with me. Take me, Netty.”

  “No, “Sweetwater!” Donna yelled. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  “I told you, baby doll; I live the blues. I don’t just play em. See, Lynette is lonely. She just needs someone to share the burden of eternity with. Ain’t that right, baby?”

  Oh, baby I been so lonely!

  “Ya’ll go now!” Elroy reached out his arms to Lynette. They embraced. Lynette transformed into the beautiful young woman she was before committing suicide. They kissed. Elroy’s cheeks sank in. His skin paled. His arms fell from Lynette’s hips; lifelessly slapping against his emaciated side. Donna heard Elroy’s voice within her mind.

  Get out of here now!

  Donna and Betty headed for the stairs. Betty let out a high-pitched scream. Harold hung from the staircase. His neck was wrapped in a noose made from telephone wire. Donna cursed Lynette’s demonic spirit and continued to run down the stairs. Betty’s hand was enclosed in her fist. She reached for the door. Dozens of hands shot out of the floor and grabbed Donna and Betty’s feet.

  Free us!

  Pull me out of this hell!

  Bring them down with us! Madame Larue wants to increase the family.

  A multitude of voices rang throughout the room.

  “God,” she begged, “help us!”

  The door swung open. The crazed woman who Donna confronted at her kitchen window busted in. She yanked Donna and Betty from the clutches of the damned. They leaped off the porch and turned to look at the house. They caught a glimpse of Lynette in the window. She withdrew and the curtains swung in place.

  “That was your husband who she killed; the man who was strangled in this house,” Donna said to the woman.

  She scratched her head through greasy disheveled hair. The woman said, “Beware of the woman in the black dress.” She walked away carrying on as if what had happened was routine. Donna heard Lynette humming from inside the house. Betty tugged at her arm pleading to run away from there. Donna was stuck in a trance. What did Elroy say; shell shocked? Finally, she regained control of her functions and they ran away from the house.

  The tragedy that occurred at her house left a lasting impression upon her mind that she simply couldn’t shake. The memory was incredibly vivid; especially her brother’s hanging body. She had nightmares and heard whispers from the woman in the black dress; Lynette Dupree. She’d become a victim of madness who was kept hostage by the prison of her mind. Donna needed help, so she contacted a therapist.

  “Good afternoon, Donna,” the therapist greeted.

  “Hello. I’m glad you could see me with short notice. I am really struggling with some issues right now.” Donna sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just going on and on. My aunt told me about your place, but she didn’t give me your name,” Donna said. “You’ve got the most beautiful brown eyes.”

  “Oh, thank you. My name is Caroline Delaroche. Please feel comfortable to purge your soul. That’s my business.”

  THE END.

  THE DATE by Bobby Stringini

  He sat at the bar, a half-empty drink in front of him. She was late, which wasn’t like her. He glanced at his drink, his finger lazily tracing a circle around the smooth glass rim. He picked up the glass, swirled around the clear, brown liquid inside, and took a healthy drink. It burned as it went down, and he felt the warmth in his belly as it splashed home.

  The news was on a raised TV in the corner of the bar. The volume was off, but the closed captioning was on, and he half read the words that passed along the bottom of the screen. The reporter was talking about a missing woman.

  “Another one,” he heard the bartender say to one of the customers a few stools down from him, “That’s the fifth missing person in three months.”

  “This time it was a woman. She was pretty. Saw a picture of her when I was reading the news this morning.” The other customer, a middle-aged man in a gray suit, was nursing a bottle of some local beer. “I guess no one is safe.”

  “I actually started carrying pepper spray.” The bartender let out a tense laugh. “Not the manliest weapon, but fuck it. I would rather take a few jokes and be safe.”

  “Won’t get any jokes from me.” The middle-aged man laughed, and slapped a twenty on the bar. “Wish I had some myself. It would make walking back to my car feel a whole lot safer.”

  “Have a good night Mr. Wilson.” The bartender said.

  “You too, Frank,” replied the middle-aged man.

  He sat at his stool and watched the man leave. He noticed the man, Mr. Wilson, was looking over his shoulder as he walked the short distance to the parking lot, and seemed to speed up when he wasn’t under the safety of the streetlights. A grown man afraid of the shadows. He would have laughed if he didn’t understand the man’s fear so well.

  He had to admit, the stories were freaking him out. Three missing people, four men, and now one woman. All five of them were around his age, and three of them lived not far from where he was now. The news was still in speculation mode, which didn’t help the public mood all that much. Reporters and a few blogs were talking about a possible cult. Satanic panic was never far from the public’s mind, and these disappearances were playing right into it.

  The cult stuff sounded a little too woo-woo for him, but a serial killer? That was a very real possibility. It had been a while since a serial killer had struck the city, but didn’t that just mean that they were all due for one?

  A hand on his shoulder made him jump.

  “Sorry I’m late,” said a small, dainty voice. He turned, and there she was, his date. Gina. “I got held up at work. I tried to call, but my phone was dead.”

  “No worries,” he said. “Our table is ready.”

  “Perfect.” She took his hand, and they both walked back towards the hostess stand. He left ten dollars on the bar for the bartender.

  While they were walking, she glanced back at him, and something in her eyes made his heart beat a little faster. There was mischief in those pretty eyes of hers. That mischief made him completely forget about the news, and serial killers, and everything else that had been tightening up his gut only moments ago. All he could see in that moment was her, and those sly, seductive eyes.

  Once they were seated, they both fell into their normal, comfortable conversation. He asked how her day was, and she gave him a brief rundown of work. She asked, and he did the same. The conversation continued for a while longer, and as it did, his mind began to wander to what he had started calling his ‘Gina Dilemma’.

  He had been dating Gina for about two weeks, and he had yet to get her into bed. It wasn’t for lack of trying, at least not on his part, but whenever he tried to and get things going, she would shut him down. She would say she was tired, or that she just wasn’t in the mood. Still, she was willing to keep seeing him, so he wasn’t completely out of luck.

  Tonight, though… tonight felt like the night where she was going to let him in. That look had been the first clue. The second had been the messages she had sent him the night before.

  At 8:45pm she sent, “I can’t wait to kiss you again. I miss you.”

  Then at 9:15pm, she had sent. “I really want tomorrow night to be special. I really can’t wait.”

  Finally, at 9:30pm she had sent him three wonderful words. “I want you.”

  That was as steamy as Gina would ever get in a text message, but it was enough to give him the hint. After telling him that she wanted him, she spent the next three messages apologizing, and hoping that he didn’t think she was being too forward. It was kind of adorable, in an immature kind of way; he didn’t mind. Immature innocence was part of her charm. Her frustrating charm.

  The third sign was where she had chosen to go to dinner. They were eating dinner at some small bistro she picked out. The lights were low, and the place was quieter than he was used to, but it was nice enough. The place screamed romance novel sensual to him. It was the kind of place t
hat women picked when they wanted something more than just romantic. They wanted something safely sexy.

  He glanced over the menu. The prices were high, but luckily, he didn’t have to worry about money. He didn’t have to worry about much. His job was good, pulling in almost one hundred grand a year and he had a nice place to live; so, spending a little extra on dinner, and more importantly, some nice wine didn’t bother him. Gina was a wine girl. It was the only thing, outside of iced tea, he had ever seen her drink. She had said that a glass of wine or two relaxed her. He wanted her relaxed. He needed to relax a bit himself without getting loaded, so he told her to order a bottle. She didn’t object.

  “I think I’m in a red mood tonight,” she said as she glanced over the wine list. “Is that okay with you?”

  “I can go for red.” He honestly didn’t care. He knew jack shit about wine. Most of his wine knowledge came from the back of the cheap boxes his roommate used to buy back in college. “Might I ask what a ‘red mood’ is exactly?”

  She gave a quick, soft smile. “I guess I want something a little more daring and bold. I don’t know why, but red wine always seems more daring to me. It’s the kind of wine you drink when you want to feel a little more… loose. It makes me more relaxed, too. Does that make sense?”

  Not at all, he thought to himself. “Of course,” he said aloud.

  With her wine selection made, they both looked at the regular menu, their eyes quickly scanning the listed dishes.

  “I think I’m going to get a steak,” he said, placing the menu down on the table. “The filet sounds good.”

  “Salad for me.” She smiled, and brushed her shoulder length brown hair behind her ears. “I don’t want to get too full.”

  “Oh?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Too full for what?”

  “For whatever,” she responded. He could feel her toe brush against his shin gently, but only for a moment.

  She blushed. She was always blushing. Gina was the kind of girl you brought home to mother, but that didn’t automatically mean she was going to be a dud in the sack. He had dated plenty of girls like her, and a few of them turned out to be complete beasts in the bedroom. He had to wonder if Gina was like that, a beast. Maybe the red wine brought the beast out in her.

  She was short, slender, with small breasts and a tight ass. She wasn’t flashy. Her clothes were simple, but fashionable, and her makeup, if she was wearing any at all, was understated. He liked that about her. He liked that she didn’t seem to be trying too hard. She was totally fine with just being pretty. Not glamorous or sexy, but pretty. It seemed so easy for her, not forced. So many women he met had that forced feeling. They were trying too hard.

  Gina was something different. She was an anomaly in this day and age. She was an honest to God sweet girl, very sweet.

  The waitress came to the table, and they ordered. He got the filet, and she ordered some kale salad with light dressing, and her bottle of daring and bold red.

  In the brief silence that followed his mind began to wander.

  He remembered when he’d first met her. Oddly enough, in this digital age, he found her the old-fashioned way, at a bar. He and his buddies had gone to this little place down the street from his office. If he remembered correctly, it was called The Haunt. A bit of creepy chic to go with a cookie cutter lounge and bar. It was similar to the bistro they were in right at that moment. It was low key, with soft, amber light and a crowd that never got rowdy.

  Gina had been sitting at the far end of the bar, a glass of white wine in front of her. She didn’t look lonely, but she looked like she was looking for something, or someone. He had picked up on that much, at least. So, his friends quickly forgotten, he made his way over to her.

  “Come here often?” He leaned on the bar next to her, keeping his voice playful and light. He wanted her to know that he knew his line was cheesy.

  “Not really.” She smiled at him, blushing. “Not much of a bar person.”

  “Then what brings you out?” She hadn’t instantly shot him down, and so he pressed on.

  “I don’t know.” She glanced around the room. “Maybe I thought I would meet someone.”

  “Like a friend?” He moved closer.

  “Maybe.” Her eyes moved back to her wine glass, but the smile never left her lips. “I don’t have a lot of friends.”

  “Any reason for that?” Just a little closer now. She didn’t pull away from him.

  “I’m new to the area.” Her eyes met his.

  The conversation went on like that for another hour or so. She introduced herself, and told him about where she worked. It was a marketing firm, although he had guessed librarian, and he talked about his life. Thinking back on it he realized that, outside of her job and the fact that she’d just relocated, he hadn’t actually gotten all that much information about her. She had gotten plenty from him, though. Around her, he seemed to talk non-stop. He told her about his work, his family, and he even threw in a few interesting college stories.

  Maybe it was the narcissist in him that had enjoyed the attention. She just seemed so interested.

  “Got any family?” She asked.

  “Not really,” he had answered. “Parents are gone, no siblings. I’m kind of on my own.”

  That really interested her.

  “I’m sorry about your parents,” she said.

  He gave her the typical line about how it was years ago, and that he was okay now. He made a point to not sound glib or dismissive. Sympathy was a potent aphrodisiac. He had used it in the past. The lost little orphan routine used to the right degree, and the panties dropped like leaves during the fall.

  Her panties hadn’t dropped, but he’d gotten a number from her.

  The next few nights they texted each other. It was much cleaner and more wholesome than he’d hoped, but she kept up the communication as much as he did, so it was a positive sign. They went on an actual date, the old standby of dinner and a movie, and when he had suggested going to her place for drinks, she shot him down.

  “My place is a wreck,” she said. “I just… I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”

  “What? That you aren’t Susie Homemaker?” He laughed. “That doesn’t bother me.”

  “Please,” she placed her hand on his chest, “give me some time to clean up. When you come over, I want it to be special.”

  There it was, the signal. He was moving in the right direction, but he had to prepare himself for the long game. He was willing to play along. Gina was nice enough, and pretty enough. She was the type of girl he could, if he thought really hard about it, imagine settling down with. Well, if she didn’t turn out to be a dead fuck. He had made that mistake before, and his dick still hadn’t completely forgiven him.

  “Alright.” He smiled, and ran his fingers through her hair. “When you’re ready.”

  That made her blush again.

  They had played that song and dance for a few more dates, and once he managed to get her back to his place. There had been some kissing, some touching, but the second he tried to get under the clothes, she had shut him down.

  It felt like he was back in high school, and his prom date was playing hard to get.

  Tonight, sitting in that bistro, looking across the table into her wide, brown eyes, he felt like it was the night. The song and dance were coming to an end, and he was about to get the prize.

  “So, what do you want to do after dinner? We could catch a movie, or maybe we could go dancing. I know this great place just down the street. My friend…” He was fishing, trying to make sure his gut feeling was right.

  She cut him off, just as he hoped she would. “Why don’t we had back to my place? I’m finally unpacked, and I thought we could maybe… break the place in?” The pink in her cheeks grew to a burning red.

  His cock gave a sudden jolt at the words ‘break the place in’. Bingo.

  “If that’s what you want.” He did his best to control his excitement. “You know, Gina, I know
I’ve been a little persistent; but I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you into something you don’t want to do.”

  She shook her head, her brown hair waving back and forth in front of her face. “I don’t. I promise. I just… I wanted to make sure that everything was ready.”

  Everything was ready? He wasn’t sure why, but that suddenly gave him pause. He could handle a wild woman, but his kink level wasn’t all that high. The farthest he had gone was a few silk scarves on the bed posts, and maybe some light spanking.

  He asked, “When you say ready, what exactly do you mean?”

  Her already wide eyes went wider. “Oh! No! I meant my apartment. I was still getting all my furniture, and… and… oh God.” Giggling she buried her face in her hands. “I don’t want you to think that I...”

  He held up his hand. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to make sure.”

  There was something in the way she was acting that rang a little false. He never read her personality as an act before, but this time something was different. She seemed to be playing it up a little. The head shakes, the giggles. They didn’t seem natural. She hadn’t ever acted like that before. Meek, sure, but outright cutesy? Not really.

  Still, he had made it this far, and had already put the work in. He might as well see it through.

  The rest of dinner went fine. The conversation was light and friendly, and there was no more mention of plans for later that night. He’d only finished half his steak, and she had barely touched her salad. She had seemed a little extra jumpy during the meal, although he just chalked that up to nerves.

  When they were done he had started walking her towards his car, but she stopped him.

  “I actually live a block away.” She glanced over her shoulder in the opposite direction. “A friend of mine owns the bistro. He should be okay with you leaving your car here overnight. Parking around my place can be a real hassle, so…” Her voice trailed off.

  “That’s fine by me. I could use the fresh air,” he said.