The Tooth Collector and Other Tales of Terror
By: Lindsey Goddard
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2015 Lindsey Goddard
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real life people or events is strictly coincidence.
ISBN: 9781311746948
Table Of Contents
The Tooth Collector
Blood On The Highway
Invitation Only
The Patch
The Woman In The Niqab
The Blue Girl
What Happens In Vegas
All The Rage
Damaged Goods
The Gift
About The Author
The Tooth Collector
“What's his motive?” Jenny blew a bubble with her purple chewing gum, popped it between her pink painted lips and started chewing it again. She pushed a lock of curly blonde hair out of her eyes and pressed the crosswalk button, waiting.
“What do you mean by 'motive'?” Cynthia asked.
“I mean... investing in this idea of yours is a financial risk. What does he stand to gain?”
Cynthia took a deep breath. It tasted of exhaust fumes, but she didn't mind. It was a breezy day in April, and the afternoon was alive with the thrum of taxi cab engines and bustling pedestrians. It comforted Cynthia, strolling through the busy city, being in the middle of it all.
“He's going to double his earnings. That's what he stands to gain.” Cynthia's blue eyes lit up as she spoke, reflecting her emotions like two cerulean mood rings. “Combining our businesses is a win/ win situation. He sells movies; I sell CDs. The Internet is destroying our sales. It's the perfect time to work together, to buy that empty office between our stores, knock down the walls and triple our floor space. We can redesign the layout, get some flashy advertisements, and hopefully attract some new customers.” Cynthia watched the traffic light change. A new direction of cars rolled through the intersection. The corner of her mouth curled into a half-smile as she fantasized about her plans.
“Mommy!” A shrill voice penetrated her daydream. Kya tugged at her arm. “Mommy, look!” The girl flashed a proud, gap-toothed grin. Blood dotted her lips. Bubbly red saliva coated her teeth, pooling inside a fresh hole in her bottom gum. “It fell out!”
Cynthia crinkled her nose, eyeing the bloody tooth her daughter clutched in spit-covered fingers. She sighed. Kya was losing teeth faster than a tree shedding leaves in Autumn. It was a wonder that her gums weren't entirely barren. And Cynthia hated handling the teeth—odd little pieces of human anatomy, porcelain smooth on one side, rough and blood-stained on the other. But a visit from the tooth fairy meant the world to Kya, so she was forced to play along.
The traffic light flashed “WALK” in bold white font. “We can go,” Jenny said, ushering for Cynthia and Kya to come along.
Cynthia knelt down and smoothed the stray hairs that had fallen from her daughter's redheaded ponytail. “Honey, put the tooth in your pocket until we get home, okay?” The girl nodded, licking a drop of blood from her lip. Cynthia grabbed her hand, and together they crossed the street.
The April breeze blew a napkin from the table. It went dancing down the sidewalk into oblivion. Cynthia loved sitting on the restaurant patio, watching the city move around her. The sun warmed her skin as she sipped her water. It had been a little too windy for dining, but they had managed.
Her salad was down to the last few leafy green bites when she heard Kya crying. “Oh no! Mommy! I lost it!”
She wiped her lips with a napkin, motioning for Kya to come closer. A half-eaten chicken tender platter sat on the table beside her salad. Kya had gobbled it down and excused herself from the table to play games on the sidewalk, like she did every time they ate lunch outdoors. But now the six-year-old was upset, visibly shaken and heading back towards the table in tears.
“Mommy! It's my tooth! I lost it!”
Cynthia smiled. “Yes, I know, sweetie. You put it in your pocket, remember?”
“No, it's not there!” Kya pulled her pockets inside out to expose the cotton lining. “See?” Her lip quivered as she glanced toward the crosswalk. “I think I dropped it.”
Kya's orange pony tail bounced as she turned toward the street. Cynthia reached out a hand, but Kya swatted it away, taking a step toward the intersection. Cynthia grabbed hold of her just before she stepped out of reach. She spun her around to meet her eyes. Snot formed in the little girl's nose as she whimpered. “I've got to find my tooth!”
“It's okay, honey. We'll leave the tooth fairy a note.”
Kya's eyes narrowed into thin slits. Her eyebrows came together, a deep wrinkle in the middle. She bit down on her bottom lip and stood motionless, staring up at her mother with a confused expression. “What would the tooth fairy want with a note?”
Cynthia offered Kya a tissue from her purse. She took it and wiped her nose. “A note... to explain what happened. A nice letter that says 'Dear tooth fairy, I have misplaced my tooth, but I drew you a picture to thank you for everything you do. Love, Kya.' I'm sure she'll understand, and she'll like the picture so much that she'll leave you something special under your pillow.”
Cynthia chewed her lip, hoping that Kya would accept this solution. She was a strong-willed child, very emotional at times, but a good kid at heart. Kya was an only child, with fiery red hair and intelligent, fierce green eyes that were a mystery to Cynthia. Brown hair and blue eyes were dominant in Cynthia's family. And Kya's father had been blonde with brown eyes. But the red hair must come from his side of the family. She would never know for sure, of course. The coward didn't stick around long enough to discuss the genetics of their child; he simply disappeared when he heard the word “pregnant”.
Oh well. Cynthia fell in love with those emerald eyes the moment she held Kya for the first time. She loved being a mother, single or not.
She pulled the frowning child to her chest and hugged her, patting the small of her back. “It's okay. The tooth fairy will come.” She gripped Kya's shoulders, gently squeezing as she looked her in the eyes and smiled. “Now go play. We'll head home in a bit.”
Kya hung her head. “Okay,” she muttered. She knelt down to scoop up the Barbie she'd left lying on the sidewalk. Ken was sprawled at her feet, too, but she didn't take notice. Instead she watched the cars in the street, eyes fixed on the crosswalk. Dirty tires rolled over the white painted lines. A gum wrapper skittered across the asphalt. For a moment, not a single car passed, and Kya squinted, scanning the ground for her tooth.
“Now back to this motive thing.” Jenny smiled as she pushed her bowl of pasta to the side. “Like I said, everybody's got a motive. I'm just wondering why this guy is willing to risk such an investment with a partner he barely knows.”
“What are you getting at?” Cynthia narrowed a suspicious eye at her friend, waiting for the catch.
“Well, look at you!” Jenny gestured toward Cynthia with a wave of her hand. “You're gorgeous. You're smart. You're single. I wouldn't be surprised if this guy is after you.”
>
Cynthia laughed, a little too high pitched. She didn't like where this conversation was going. She hadn't dated since Kya's father flew the coop. A relationship wasn't worth the pain it might cause if things ended badly, especially now that Kya's feelings were involved. Cynthia was still wounded. The emotional scars from being left to raise a child alone had never fully healed. “Abandonment issues” was putting it lightly, she knew.
Jenny leaned in. “Do you think he's cute? Because I think he's cute. That's why I figured you two might, you know, hook up...”
Cynthia sighed. “My interest in him is strictly business.” She sat up, prepared to argue her defense, but the sound of squealing tires caught her attention before she could continue.
A silver Suburban skidded toward a BMW that had spun out of control and landed sideways in the road, blocking the intersection. The driver of the BMW had slammed the brakes and jerked the wheel, sending the sports car across the oncoming lane. One of its wheels was bent, and the tire hissed air as it deflated.
The Suburban plowed forward. The smell of burnt rubber hung in the air as the SUV slammed into the sports car with a loud crunch, leaving black skid marks in the lane. Shards of glass rained down on both vehicles. Some of it bounced off the wreckage and settled in the street as frantic onlookers rushed toward the accident. One of them screamed, “The child, the child!”
Cynthia's heart sank. She searched the sidewalk for Kya. No sign of her. She sprang from her chair, screaming “Kya! Where are you?”
She ran from the restaurant patio. One of her high-heeled sandals caught a crack in the pavement, and she stumbled, pushing her way through a crowd of onlookers gathered at the curb. One of them shot her a dirty glance, but the cold expression softened as Cynthia ran toward the scene of the accident.
Cynthia wailed, “No! God no!” A purple sleeve poked out from underneath the smashed BMW. And the tiniest bit of orange ponytail. Blood began to pool around the mangled form of a little girl, barely visible through the twisted metal in the road.
Traffic came to a stop. Ignorant motorists further back began to honk their horns. Shocked citizens helped a limping man from the SUV as Cynthia ran to where Kya was sprawled, pinned down by the wreckage. Blood leaked over the white painted crosswalk, mixing with splinters of broken glass.
She fell to her knees and reached for the tiny hand with pink painted fingernails. She called her name over and over. But the girl didn't respond. She lay in a twisted heap. Crimson splatters stained her clothes and streaked her little face. One of the BMW's tires had flattened a portion of her thigh. Her chest was crushed against the pavement.
Cynthia closed her eyes against the horror, but the smell of smoke rising from the engine and the sirens blaring in the distance assured her this was real. The sirens drew closer, and Cynthia opened her eyes. She stared in disbelief at her daughter's body beneath the car as hot tears welled in her eyes.
Then someone was there, kneeling beside her. Long, brittle strands of hair hung from the hood that covered its head. The tangled locks were mostly black, speckled with strands of gray and white. A breeze blew around the dark stranger, whipping its hair and ruffling the gray cloak. Cynthia saw a portion of its face through the obsidian shadows of the hood—two glittering red eyes, its gaunt cheekbones set too high above a crone-like nose. The gaping, toothless mouth grinned at her, wickedly.
She scrambled backwards, looking around, but no one else seemed to notice the strange figure in the billowing robe, kneeling before the wreckage beside Cynthia. It crouched over the upturned hand of Cynthia's dead child and ran a pale, bony finger down Kya's gore-splattered wrist. The spindly fingers roamed to the center of her hand and plucked a pearly, white tooth from the palm.
It smiled, exposing its putrid black gums, and looked Cynthia straight in the eyes. Its own eyes glittered like ruby marbles inside the darkness of the hood. It tucked the tooth inside the long black robe it wore beneath the cloak and then, atom by atom, particle by particle, the figure dissipated into thin air, fading like a desert mirage.
Cynthia, still in shock, could only hug her knees and cry, thinking, She came back to find the tooth. It's all my fault. I should have been watching.
Cynthia held the baby tooth. Teardrops rolled down her face and smeared her faded makeup. She wiped her eyelids with the back of her hand, leaving a trail of mascara and eyeliner on her cheek.
She reached out to grasp the tooth between her thumb and index finger. She felt the smooth porcelain, the roughness of the underside. This wasn't the tooth that Kya had gone searching for the day of the car accident. That particular tooth had never turned up at the scene, a thought that sent a chill down Cynthia's spine as she remembered the bony fingers reaching out to pluck it from her daughter's lifeless hand.
No, this tooth was special. It was the first one Kya had ever lost. They had saved it in a glass container with the word “Memories” painted in red cursive letters on the lid.
Cynthia snorted, a miserable half-chuckle as she slowly shook her head. She used to hate handling these odd little body parts, but now it was all she had left. A deep wail seized her, rattling her shoulders. This was the first time she had cried in days. She had tucked her feelings away on the ride home from the hospital that fateful day, alone, without Kya. Now she sat at the foot of her unmade bed in the white slip she had worn beneath her funeral dress, makeup from three days ago smeared at haphazard angles from wiping her overdue tears.
All through the funeral service, she had wondered if there was something wrong with her. And then, afterward, as family and friends gathered together, sobbing in huddled groups, she felt as if the hushed voices were gossiping, accusing her. Why is she not crying? What kind of mother is she?
Something had snapped inside Cynthia at the sight of her child's casket. Her sanity was like a rubber band fastened to a brick. Her mind strained under the weight of her loss, the proverbial rubber band stretched thin by the image of Kya's six year old body lying dead. And then more bricks were added: making phone calls, planning the funeral, having to carry on like a functional human while she'd lost all desire to live. The rubber band inside her mind was pulled tighter and tighter until—snap. She went numb. She couldn't cry.
Until now.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the memories. A tear drop fell from her cheek. It splashed silently against the tooth she gripped in her fingers.
When she opened her eyes, a cloaked figure stood a few feet from the end of her bed. The cloak it wore ruffled, as if stirred by a breeze, its black robe billowing in the stillness of the bedroom. The long tangles of black hair, streaked with strands of white and gray, seemed to dance on a mystical draft. A feeling of sadness and misery pulsated from the figure as it stood in a whirlwind of dark energy.
She scooted back toward the headboard, putting as much space as possible between her and the strange presence that blocked the door.
“I can return her to you,” it spoke in a deep, haunting growl. The wet tongue smacking against its toothless gums made the voice sound almost mortal, but the way it filled her mind, the words echoing through her thoughts, caused every hair on her body to stand up.
Cynthia gulped. There was no need to ask pointless questions such as “Return who to me?” She knew exactly what the ghostly visitor was proposing. The thought disgusted her. She squeezed her eyelids shut tight and wrapped her fingers around the bed post, repeating a mantra: “You're not real; you're not real; you're not real.”
“Oh, but I am real. And I can return her to you. She will breathe. She will grow. Blood will pump through her veins. She will behave as she always did, age like any other child. She'll be every bit the girl she was before. I promise you.” The dark entity moved closer without taking a step, hovering with the end of its robes barely brushing the floor.
“Impossible,” Cynthia managed to whisper as fear clenched her windpipe.
The entity stopped its advance. It was motionless aside from the evil wind that churn
ed around it, adding madness to its rotten aura. Loud, maniacal laughter filled the bedroom, reverberating off the walls. It rattled the picture frames. One fell to the floor, cracking the glass. The laughter bellowed through her mind, bouncing off the inside of her skull.
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