9 Tales Told in the Dark 7

by 9 Tales Told in the Dark

  I glanced around at my surroundings—the tower, the deer pulling at the grass, the scattered pine. “You’re stronger here, aren’t you? Inside these stones.”

  Adam nodded. He spit to the ground. “I shouldn’t have helped you. I should have let those boys beat you.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because they saw me. And now they know.”

  “Who?”

  He looked at me for a long time, as if unsure of what to say. Finally his answer came. It was only two words, yet it made my stomach drop into the soles of my feet.

  “The demons.”

  It took me a moment to speak. “You mean…that man back there w-was…”

  “Yes.”

  I had more questions, but the words would not come. Although the bird faced woman shared no such difficulties. “The stones hide the gate. But now they have seen!” she shouted and spit. “One toll for each circle. Down they go. Down and down they go!”

  I could not move, yet Adam pulled me by the arm. “Come,” he said. “Come quickly. I must show you something.”

  “Um—bu—okay.” It was a short walk. Adam came to a stop at a slight crest of a hill. The trees were sparse in this area near the tower, and I could see for quite a distance.

  This wood is bigger once inside, growing and stretching within the city.

  The land sloped down and flattened. Adam pointed to the valley. The ring of stones wrapped around us, until they disappeared behind old oaks and maples. “Do you see those willows?” he asked. I nodded. They stood by themselves, away from all the other trees and vegetation. They were vibrant green, yet their leaves appeared sad and weeping as they slumped toward the earthen ground. “Those were others, like me. There have been many before, and there will be many after. One day I will die and another tree will grow.”

  “But why? Why are you here?”

  “I am a Watcher,” he said, as if I should have already known such a simple truth. “I protect the gate.”

  “What gate?”

  The clouds darkened above as Adam pressed forward. He motioned for me to follow and I obeyed. A rumble of thunder rolled in the distance. My surroundings seemed to be growing darker by the second. The air had gone from cool to cold and I shivered as I went, glad to just be moving. We made it to the bottom of the slope. The land flattened and within a few short steps Adam stopped before a hole in the ground. Large stones bordered the opening, hard packed soil slunk between. It was maybe four feet in diameter and led down into darkness.

  “This?” I asked, for it was all I could think to say. It appeared manmade, and wasn’t as impressive as expected.

  “This is why I am here. To watch, to protect.”

  “They come out of that?” I asked, too afraid to speak the word ‘demon’.

  “No. They don’t come out, they go in.”

  “And you stop them…”

  “Yes.” Adam plucked a long strand of grass from the earth, held it between two fingers. “Demon’s exist. That is the nature of our world. Sometimes they wish to go elsewhere. They search for the gates, to escape.” He split the blade of grass in two and dropped it to the earthen floor. “I cannot let that happen.”

  “There’s other gates?” I was confused, yet deep down believed every word. After what I’d seen I could not argue against Adam.

  “Yes. Not here, but elsewhere. They’re hard, very hard to find.” A far off flash of lightning made his dark eyes shimmer and dance. As I glanced away my eye again found the gate. A current of heat and energy ran through it. It pulled with its own gravity, and I suddenly wanted to step inside and feel the air warm my skin.

  “Where does it lead?” I asked.

  Adam shook his head. “To hell? Heaven? Some other world? I do not know.”

  Goosebumps broke out on my arms as a hundred destinations slipped through my mind. “Have any of them ever made it inside?”

  “Yes. Not often, but it does happen. The life of a Watcher is not long.” Even with the clouds darkening above I could see a flash of sadness come and go from Adam’s eye. My thoughts turned to the willow trees. Each one had been a Watcher, and each one had died. “Who was here before you?” I asked, but Adam just shrugged. “Does it matter?” he said. After I shrugged back he went on. “I was drawn here, alone. I knew nothing. But once I held my blade, once I felt its power in my veins, I knew what I must do. Just as I know what you must do.”

  A strong wind whipped across the valley. “And what is that?”

  “You must go,” he said. “Another is coming. And it is stronger than the last.”

  I felt a coldness wash over me as I followed him back to the clock tower. The sky was an angry mix of grey and black. “Follow that path” Adam told me. “When it grows thin, look for the trail my sword left in the dirt. Follow that to the pine and keep going forward.” He glanced up. “If I were you I would hurry.” He left me there, headed towards the old tree where his sword was sheathed deep into its wood.

  It’s not just a sword, I thought. It’s a part of him, a part of the wood.

  As I headed to the pathway the old woman called out to me. “One toll for each circle. The tower knows, young boy. The tower knows!”

  I walked up to her. She was coughing. Then she grinned. “Each circle of what?” I asked her.

  “You don’t know boy?” With that she began to laugh and laugh, and then cough and cough. “The underworld! Nine there are. Nine circles. Each more torturous than the last. Ceaseless winds, food for the Harpies, sands of fire and ash.”

  I glanced up to see the golden hands of the clock tower pointed to the seven and twelve. It had rung seven times after Adam sliced that demon in two.

  The seventh circle.

  “Murder,” the old woman spoke, as if reading my mind.

  “What does it mean when the clock tolls twelve?” I asked, thinking back to that frightening night when I was young boy.

  Her wrinkled grin sunk low into a frown, hiding those crooked teeth. Skin pulled at her cheekbones, leaving a pointy, bony knob just below each eye. “When the toll rings twelve the Watcher has died,” she said, and reached for the pill bottle. As she swallowed one down without a drink of water, I wondered what part, if any, she played in protecting the gate.

  A flash of lightning got me moving, and soon enough I found the trail, and the line in the dirt cut from Adam’s sword. The rain began to fall, cleansing the demon’s blood from my skin, while making the line in the soil that much harder to see. After walking for what seemed like hours I came to the pine, left the wood safely behind, and stood, soaking wet, in the abandoned auto service center. I took the long route home, avoiding the old shopping center where the Little Devils had attacked me, and made it home before dark. On the couch, my mom slept deep as the dead. Like the old woman at the clock tower, she also had a pill bottle at her side.

  I went to my room, exhausted. My swollen eye throbbed to my own heartbeat, and my throat burned. I changed out of my wet clothes, and was asleep in seconds.

  I awoke sometime after dusk. Outside, a storm was raging. A black shifting form hovered above me. It was darker than the surrounding night, darker than the shadows on my ceiling. My door was closed, my shade pulled tight. No light came into the room other than the green glow of my alarm clock, yet the darkness remained.

  It takes light to make shadow, I thought.

  Unless it is the darkest of darkness, a voice whispered through my mind, making me feel cold. I pulled the blanket over me. The darkness remained, and even with the splatter of rain on my window, I was sure I could hear the sound of something breathing.

  Something happened within the ring of stones, I knew. As to what, I could not say. My answer came in the distant toll of a bell. It echoed from the woods, once, twice…

  I counted them off, one after another.

  The old woman’s words came back to me. One toll for each circle. The tower knows, young boy. The tower knows! When the ninth toll came I felt a quiver run up my spine. Th
e last circle, the ninth circle of the underworld.

  Then the bell rang again, and I felt my stomach tighten. Two more tolls and the night fell silent. I tried to catch my breath, but couldn’t.

  Twelve tolls, I thought. He is dead. Adam is dead.

  The shadow on my ceiling faded away. The outside air hushed and fell quiet. I felt sick, nauseous, yet I stood regardless.

  For a pull had taken to my bones.

  I slipped on a pair of jeans, laced up my shoes, and snuck out into the night. I heard no crickets, no cars passing at a distance. The only sounds were my footsteps slapping against the concrete.

  Adam had said another demon was coming, stronger than the one before. I thought of the man in the brown suit. He had been standing beside the demon in the lumberjack flannel near the bar. And he’d been watching as well.

  It was him. I knew it, just as I knew he had slain Adam.

  But had the demon made it to the gate?

  I wasn’t sure, but something told me Adam did not die quietly.

  I just needed to hurry. So I let the pull lead me to the old shopping center. The Little Devils had returned, and were sitting near the fence, passing around a joint. I was no Watcher, but I could not stop myself. My feet disobeyed every rational thought as I walked right up to them. Even when the Little Devils surrounded me I could not stop my feet from moving forward.

  “You gotta pay the toll, boy,” A voice spoke behind me. “You gotta pay the toll.”

  “Skinny bitch betta pay that toll,” A short stocky kid wearing a heavy white tee-shirt and a Chicago Bulls ball-cap called out near the fence. The same fence I had followed Adam through earlier that day as the sirens closed in. The kid had a busted nose, his arm wrapped in a sling. When I stepped closer his eyes lit up. “Shit! That’s one of ‘em! I swear to shit, that one of ‘em.”

  I could barely hear them as they started to yell and laugh. They closed in on me, around me, but my eye was drawn elsewhere—to the old signpost—to the rusty metal point rising from its concrete. Something about it…there’d always been something about it…

  “Gonna light you up boy.”

  I let a hand close around it.

  “Gonna cut a smile in that skinny throat.”

  Fits perfect, just perfect.

  “Why you come back, boy?” The voice was right up on me. He must have had a knife, because I felt cold steel against my throat. “What you want?”

  I didn’t answer. A quick stab of pain flashed from the skin of my throat. “You want to try my boy out without your little bodyguard bitch to protect you?”

  I didn’t respond, just stared at the signpost, felt the rusty metal in my grip.

  Wandering, always wandering…

  “Yo’ little bitch. I asked what you want?”

  “This,” I said, and pulled the metal post upward.

  It slide from its concrete sheathe. Blue metal glinted in the dark night as the blade pulled free. It was curved like a scimitar, only larger, lighter. It fit flawlessly in my hand. I lifted it above my head and screamed. The sky flashed with the glow of sapphires and then grew dark. When I turned my attention back to the Little Devils, they were already on the run. Only the one closest to me remained. He stuttered something, dropped his blade near my feet. I kicked it out of the way.

  “Move.”

  The last Little Devil took off running, accompanied by the echoes of his own sobs.

  I pushed through the fence, moving quickly. The sword guided me. Long strides took me toward the clock tower, toward the demon.

  He is hurting.

  I knew this as fact. Now that my sword was in my hand I could feel him crawling to the gate on his hands and knees, leaving behind a trail of his own wicked blood.

  I arrived at the tower to find the old woman dead, her body torn to pieces. Blood and bone stained the stone walls of the clock tower.

  I left her. The sword guided me. “I will finish what you started, Adam. I will avenge you and the woman.” I could smell the evil—death and ash and rot. It was close to the gate, so very close.

  But I was closer to the demon.

  “The clock will toll nine tonight.”

  A confidence I had never before known flowed through my veins. The blue glow from my blade brightened. The hilt coiled around my hand like liquid metal.

  “I’m coming,” I whispered.

  In the distance came a frightened scream.

  THE END

  THE END

  ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS by Christine Rains

  “I want a super strong bodyguard.” Devon stated without a smile, hugging his stuffed bear. The mall Santa nodded and stroked his beard, pretending to take the request very seriously.

  I rubbed my face with my hand and let out a long breath as Santa's helper said she knew just the toy Devon was asking for. My son didn't want an action figure or stuffed animal. I'd even offered him an ice hockey table, and he didn't want it.

  “Should we go get him, Jon?” Melissa whispered from my right.

  I shook my head. “Let him tell his story to Santa. Maybe if he thinks Santa is going to give him what he wants, he'll sleep better tonight.”

  “All right. Anything to get him to sleep. It's been like, what, six weeks now?” She covered her mouth as she yawned. None of us were getting much sleep between her pregnancy and the imaginary monster in Devon's closet.

  When we set up the baby's room, Devon's midnight visitor started making appearances. Everyone said the fact he was going to have to share us with a sibling finally hit him and this was his way of getting more attention before the baby arrived. When we talked about it with him, he said it wasn't that. There was really a monster in his closet and it was going to eat him one night.

  I tried all the tricks. I attacked late night shadows with a bat and set a chair in front of the closet door. Reason and pretend magical rituals of protection did not drive the monster away. So here we were two days before Christmas, letting my five-year-old explain to the mall Santa why he hasn't been sleeping.

  “If this doesn't work, maybe we should consider taking him to a therapist.” Melissa leaned her head on my shoulder and linked her hand with mine.

  God, please let us not get to that point. I gave her hand a squeeze. “It'll be fine. Christmas will make him forget all about monsters.”

  Melissa fell asleep on the couch after we tucked in Devon on Christmas Eve. I watched the rest of my movie before nudging her awake and helping her to bed with a kiss on her sweet lips and her swollen belly.

  I munched on my grandmother's cookies as I settled back on the couch. Devon's first screams usually came around midnight. I'd stay up and make sure Melissa wasn't disturbed. At least one of us should be well rested for the usual Christmas morning chaos.

  But when the clock struck twelve, the house was silent.

  I waited another half hour before walking to Devon's door. Pressing my ear to it, I could just hear his even breathing. I didn't dare open his door for fear of the creak.

  I returned to the couch. Outside, lazy snowflakes fell and the Weather Channel predicted we'd have an inch by sunrise. Thirty minutes passed again and then another. My eyes drooped.

  Checking on my son, I heard a soft snore. Yep, Christmas brought dreams of presents and candy. No monsters tonight.

  I slept on the couch just to make sure.

  Hearing the toilet flush, I bolted up. No screams. I glanced at the clock. Six a.m.

  Christmas morning!

  Melissa's footsteps brought her from the bathroom back to our bed. I noticed she must have checked on me since I had a blanket over my legs and the cookies and milk left for Santa were gone.

  Smiling, I listened at Devon's door. The little nipper was still asleep. I pumped my fist in the air and hurried to the master bedroom to climb in with my wife. I wrapped an arm around her and kissed the back of her neck.

  “He's still asleep.”

  “A full night's sleep. Santa did bring us what we wanted.” She c
huckled and both of us drifted off again.

  It was almost nine when I opened my eyes. Sun peeked around the drapes. Melissa took the first turn in the bathroom and then me. I found her standing by Devon's door when I came out.

  “I don't know if we should wake him.”

  “Of course. It's Christmas!” I laughed and patted her rear. “Besides, it's been over twelve hours. He's had plenty of sleep.”

  Both of us grinned as I opened the door to the dark room. Melissa knelt by Devon and rubbed his arm. “Wake up, honey. It's Christmas!”

  Devon's eyes fluttered and he started, scooting back. He blinked, focused on his mother, and smiled. “Christmas!”

  I reached over Melissa's shoulder and ruffled Devon's hair. “That's right, buddy. Get up, go pee, and then go see what Santa brought you.”

  “I already know what he got me. Santa killed the monster in my closet.” Devon whooped and bounced on his bed.

  “Honey...” Melissa frowned and I shook my head at her. Let him believe it. If he was finally over the whole imaginary beast thing, we all would sleep better for it.

  “That's awesome! But I think he left something else too. Go on.”

  Devon took off down the hall to the bathroom. Melissa stood and sighed happily. “Oh! I should get my camera ready for when he sees the ice hockey table.”

  “Okay.” I started to follow and paused, noticing Devon's bear on the bed. He never went anywhere without it. The excitement of the morning must have given him that get-up-and-go. I turned to open Devon's blinds. Soft morning light filled the room. Snow covered the yard and icicles twinkled along the eaves. Beautiful. Christmas was always the best day of the year.

  The toilet flushed and Devon giggled as he ran down the hall to the living room. I reveled in his shouts of glee and Melissa's laughter.

  Something wet squished under my foot as I stepped backward. My foot jerked up as I spun and lost the ability to breathe. My throat clenched, and I banged my head against the blinds as I pressed myself to the wall.