The Tooth Collector (and Other Tales of Terror)

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The Tooth Collector (and Other Tales of Terror) Page 5

by Lindsey Goddard


  She reached the Jeep and crawled into the driver's seat. She dug through her purse and found her cell phone. She hastily punched the “9” button, then “1”, but she froze when an ear-splitting howl ripped through the night. It shook the earth and caused the Jeep's frame to rattle.

  She scanned the treeline and saw the white creature standing in the snow, still gripping the corpse of its child. Beside it stood another beast—taller, stronger than the other two. Its curvy, well-defined muscles bulged beneath layers of fur, thighs the size of tree trunks. It stood fully erect, twice the height of the Jeep. It beat fists against its chest and howled for a second time, the vestiges of its preceding roar still echoing through the night. A bushy tail beat steadily back and forth at its rear, as if counting down the seconds of a ticking time bomb.

  The beast's demon-red eyes locked on hers. It lunged forward, mounds of snow erupting in its wake. The Jeep rattled and shook as it thudded the earth. The monster ran on all fours with its long arms and powerful legs, breezing past Eric without so much as a cursory glance.

  Then the beast slowed. It skidded to a stop. It turned around, cocking its head at Eric who lay helpless beneath a blanket of snow. “No!” Emily screamed as the creature approached Eric and held a hairy foot over his frightened, pleading face. With one stomp, Eric's head popped like a melon and splattered the icy mountain road. Emily closed her eyes, but it did little to erase the image of Eric's brain tissue bursting from his skull like a pinata.

  Panic gripped her. She dialed the remaining “1”, but knew it was fruitless. Help would never arrive in time.

  The beast threw its head back and howled even louder than before, furiously beating its chest. It turned around and barreled toward her, a white blur with piercing red eyes. Emily screamed as it rammed the car, scrambled away as it ripped the door from its hinges. Enormous hands pulled her from the car, pinned her down in the snow.

  Emily turned her head as the giant beast raised a clawed fist into the air. She saw the smaller one, the beast that had let her go, still standing at the edge of the woods. It clutched the corpse of its child in its arms. Its crimson eyes glowed from the shadows.

  The eyes of mother beast, watching, waiting in the forest... as father beast took his revenge.

  Invitation Only

  Daniel turned the pages of his mother's photo album, fighting back tears. Pictures of his own face—in various stages of development—stared back at him, a reminder of innocence lost. Snapshots filled each glossy slot in careful chronological order. His mother's handwriting marked the months and years on bits of paper underneath. A familiar lump returned to his throat as he resisted the urge to cry.

  Daniel closed the book and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed her. He was a loser. After forty-eight years of life, it was obvious. He hadn't accomplished much of anything, so busy following his dreams that he never thought to set aside money for his mother's needs.

  In the end, when mom had passed, he was forced to sell the few valuables he owned just to pay for her funeral. Even then, he couldn't afford a casket. Mom now rested in a porcelain urn.

  He stood up from the foot of his mother's bed and smoothed the wrinkles from the cover. It occurred to him that this was a pointless action, that sooner or later the bedding would join her other possessions in a truck heading for the nearest Goodwill. But he adjusted it anyway, noticing its age for the first time. It was the same ragged quilt she'd been using for decades.

  He looked around the room at the outdated decor, the open closet full of thrift store dresses, the ancient TV atop her dresser. She hadn't lived a glamorous life. Her only child, Daniel, had failed to provide.

  Placing the photo album in a box marked "keep", Daniel turned to face the rest of the closet's contents. The clothes would all go; that was easy. The boxes full of knickknacks and keepsakes, those would take some time to sort through. He owed her that much, to handle her items with care. They were memories, after all, souvenirs from a lifetime spent encouraging her loser son. First, with his failed movie career. Then, with his non-selling novels. Mother always kept the faith that he'd succeed.

  Daniel grabbed a shoe box from the shelf and placed it on the bed. It was old, the logos obviously passé. His fingers left prints on the dusty surface as he removed the lid, setting it aside. The box contained papers—some folded, some rolled, some small enough to fit without bending. He unrolled a paper: the deed to the house. He walked it over to the "keep" container, setting it next to the box so it wouldn't get buried beneath the other items as he sorted.

  He started a pile of old receipts, crumbling them as he scanned them for importance. And then, further down, underneath the top layer of papers, he spotted something that made his brow furrow. It looked exactly like something he'd seen in his youth. The words were different, but there was no mistaking the font.

  He picked up the red post card with the bold, black text. The words were scrawled in haunting, gothic letters. As a boy, he had marveled at the shape of each character. He'd never seen writing like it. And now—as a grown man—he knew he hadn't seen it since.

  There was no picture, no friendly greeting, not even a stamp. The card was the color of blood, but lacking the glossy coat that some post cards possess. Just the dull, crimson paper with the strange black letters.

  He remembered how Jimmy Hannigan had gloated, waving it around. A chubby redheaded kid with an ego so big it made you wonder what he saw in the mirror, he carried himself with an attitude that suggested he was Top Dog. Jimmy was a hellion, a cool outlaw, trapped in the body of an overweight ginger. Daniel knew this was why he bullied the other kids, like in that moment, as he taunted Daniel with the post card in his hand. "Didn't get one, huh?"

  "Don't want one." Daniel kicked a rock with his dirty Ked sneaker, eyeing Jimmy with thinly veiled chagrin.

  Ever since the delivery man had appeared on Jimmy's doorstep and handed him the strange invitation, he couldn't stop beaming from ear to ear. Jimmy had spent the school day with that dumb smile on his face, questioning all the children in their seventh grade class. "Did you get one?" he would ask, waving the crimson card around. With each "no" he seemed to walk a little taller, as if hand-picked to join a group of socialites.

  The invitation itself was peculiar. The letters looked like they belonged in the credits of Vampira or The Addams Family, and Daniel was thoroughly intrigued. He found himself trailing Jimmy as he posed the question to each classmate. So far only Teddy Green, Dennis Halloway, and Johnny Cougar had matching post cards. The oddest part: they were the worst kids in school.

  Daniel was partly telling the truth when he said he didn't want an invitation. There was a twinge of jealousy at having been excluded, but something about the blood red card, inviting the recipient to the "best haunted house this Halloween" sent a chill down the length of Daniel's spine. He had been there when the delivery man arrived on Jimmy's doorstep. The lanky figure in the long, black trench coat seemed to appear out of thin air that afternoon. One moment they were discussing Heather Janeson's tits, the next they were sitting in his shadow.

  The autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves, and it whipped at the stranger's colorless hair, which hung in a tangled mess from beneath his ebony top hat. His face was even paler than his thin, white hair, and his dark eyes leered at Daniel from the shadows of the hat's brim.

  "Are you Mister Jimmy Hannigan?" his deep voice inquired. Daniel thought it sounded more like a growl than a question. He caught a glimpse of sharp teeth as the delivery man spoke. Slick with spit, the jagged teeth glistened behind chapped lips, brownish-yellow and tapered into points. Jimmy, who was accustomed to speaking his mind, who had told countless teachers and parents to "fuck off", only nodded in response, taken aback by the proximity of the imposing figure.

  The man handed Jimmy a black envelope and curled his lips in a closed-mouth smile. The expression seemed to strain the muscles of his face, as if causing him actual pain
. Daniel caught another glimpse of those cat-like teeth as the man spoke again in that low, bassy tone, "We hope you can make it." With a tip of his satin top hat, the man turned and walked away, leaving the boys to stare at the envelope in wonder.

  "Open it," said Daniel, licking his lips.

  "Chill out, spaz. I just got it ten seconds ago."

  Daniel looked in the direction the man had walked, but he was nowhere to be seen... already gone. "That guy gave me the creeps.” He rubbed the goosebumps from his arms.

  "That's because you're a pussy,” Jimmy said with a roll of his eyes. He ripped at the envelope, shredding the seal. His eyes widened as he read the words aloud, "You are invited to Manic Manor, the most terrifying haunted house in the state."

  Realization dawned on the boys, and they laughed, releasing their tension.

  "So that explains the creepy getup," said Jimmy. But not the creepy teeth, thought Daniel.

  "Admission is paid in full, courtesy of someone who believes you can survive the terror.” Jimmy looked up, pride obvious in his eyes. “Halloween night. 10 o'clock. The old mansion on Pennington Hill."

  Leaves skittered down the sidewalk in the autumn breeze. The jack-o-lantern's candle had burned down to a nub, its flame fighting to stay lit against the wind. Daniel breathed deep the smell of melted wax. It was a comforting aroma, reminding him of past Halloweens, when he'd been allowed to enjoy the festivities. Now he was twelve, going on thirteen. Too old for silly costumes and trick-or-treating.

  Jimmy smacked his lips, savoring the candy bar with as much etiquette as a pig at the trough. "You sure you don't want some?" he asked, holding the bag out to Daniel.

  He shook his head, "No man. It aint even ours."

  Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Okay, suit yourself." He plunged his chubby hand into the depths of the treat bag, digging for another snack to join the pile of empty wrappers at his feet.

  Daniel watched his pal, pondering—as he often did—what exactly made them best friends. Teachers, parents, authority figures: they all pegged Daniel for a hooligan because of the company he kept. He could save himself a lot of trouble and accusations if he just stopped hanging around with Jimmy. The truth was, deep down, Daniel didn't feel like a bad guy. He didn't want to smash pumpkins or egg houses. He especially didn't want to steal candy. Yet, those are the activities that had filled his evening, because for some reason, Jimmy Hannigan was his pal.

  "What time is it?" asked Jimmy, sucking the chocolate from his fingers.

  Daniel checked his watch. "It's 9:12.”

  Jimmy jumped to his feet. "Shit, we're gonna be late!" He dumped a handful of candy into the bag, stuffing the empty wrappers into the pockets of his jeans. He stashed the stolen candy in the bushes, where his parents would be none the wiser.

  Daniel stood from the porch, his eyebrows arched high. "Hold up. We are gonna be late?"

  "Yeah, man. You didn't think I'd go without my best friend, did ya?"

  Daniel thought. "Well, what—what if they don't let me in?"

  "Hell man, I don't know. Let's go find out!"

  The abandoned mansion towered against a backdrop of tiny stars as the boys groaned, rubbing their feet. Daniel marveled at how far they'd come, loosening the laces of his grass-stained tennis shoes. The road snaked its way downhill, winding through the forest and back out again, until it met with the heart of town. There had been an unspoken consensus to travel it alone, without the cushy comforts of a car. He scarcely believed they'd climbed the entire hill on foot as he stared down upon the rooftops, breath forming clouds in the crisp October air.

  One by one, they had gathered outside the iron gate: Teddy Green, Dennis Halloway, Johnny Cougar, and Sally Hendricks. A scraggly-haired tyrant of a girl, Sally's name struck fear into the hearts of her classmates. She might as well be one of the guys.

  Daniel noted, with mild amusement, that the amount of lunch money stolen between these kids might be enough to jump start a small business. He snorted through his nose to keep from laughing, catching a suspicious sideways glance from Teddy, whose narrow eyes wiped the smirk from Daniel's face.

  Dark windows stared down at the children, like empty eye sockets in a moldering face. The once-glorious home loomed over them, glowing gray in the moonlight. The rotting wood exterior was riddled with tiny, black knots. Dead, brittle vines weaved through the broken slats of the lattice, cobwebs visible in every corner. The gauzy white webs accented the frame of the tall, black door, which seemed to sit crooked in the face of the house.

  Pennington Hill had once been the subject of envy around town. Built for the mayor and his prestigious family, the three story, twenty-eight room manor had been the setting for galas and elite social events. As decades passed, the wealthy class developed a desire to blend in. A mansion atop a hill became a thing of the past, an ostentatious display of riches. Following the family's departure a near century after it was built, no one seemed to know what to do with the old house. It sat, untouched, for so many years that it fell into immense disrepair.

  The children heard the squeaking of a shutter as it hung from its hinge and thumped against the window frame. A lone owl hooted in the distance, sounding too much like a horror movie sound effect. Their warm breath formed white clouds in the air as they waited.

  Johnny Cougar's blue eyes darted from face to face, as he rocked back and forth on his heels. "What should we do? Climb the gate?"

  Jimmy shook his head, pointing at the invitation. "Patience, bonehead. It says right here: 10 o'clock. Just wait a minute. Someone will let us in."

  As if on cue, the wrought iron gates swung open. Teddy and Dennis stepped forward, showing no fear at the sight of the heavy gates moving on their own. Johnny and Sally glanced back, at the road leading home, then forward to the gates, which scraped along the gravel as they opened. "Pretty cool trick," said Johnny.

  "Yeah, pretty cool."

  Jimmy pulled Daniel aside. He patted the pocket of his jacket where a walkie talkie was hidden. His freckled cheeks puffed up as he beamed a crooked smile. "Remember, even if you don't get in, you can listen." Jimmy's hazel eyes twinkled in the plump roundness of his face. He raised his hands to Daniel's shoulders, grinning like he'd given him the best gift in the world by letting him tag along. Jimmy had insisted on bringing the walkie talkies, just in case the two boys got separated. His best friend was coming with him, no matter what. "You ready?" he said, squeezing Daniel's shoulders with his palms.

  Daniel nodded, "Yeah, let's go.

  "Together they walked under an archway that connected the pillars of each gate. Granite faces peered at them from intricate carvings in the stone. The gray eyes seemed to follow them as they passed. Both boys noticed, but neither one said a word.

  Trees lined the stone path leading to the mansion's front door. Twisted limbs entangled from opposite sides of the path, forming a tunnel of gnarled branches and leaves. A canopy of twigs and fire-colored leaves entwined above their heads, throwing the children into darkness. Moonbeams shined through the gaps in the branches, casting thin patches of light across their bodies as they crunched over the fallen leaves that littered the pebbled ground.

  Shadows moved in the foliage, weaving through the tree trunks. At first Daniel thought it was dogs on the other side of the branches, but the more he focused his eyes, he saw dark splotches moving along the inside of the tunnel. The shadows looked human in shape, as if cast by the group of kids, but there wasn't enough moonlight for that. The black figures moved in a blur, so quickly Daniel couldn't single one out.

  The trunks were covered in a dark brown, crumbling bark that seemed to move, like the puffing of a chest as it breathes. Daniel knew it was foolish, but he felt as though the trees were alive. He could hear them panting: a labored wheezing sound over the whistling of the wind down the trail.

  "Do you hear that?" Daniel clenched Jimmy's arm, urging him to stand still and listen.

 

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