Dark_Tales_of

Here lies dismally numerous short yet not at all sweet dark tales of horrific proportions. Please struggle very hard to enjoy them, lest the hideous evil that is intertwined in the lines of these ghastly stories seduces you over to the dark side! Hence, reader beware!

* * * * * *

It flashed across my mind like a stark graven image of ominous substance, sharp-edged and glaringly real, a veritable premonition, a foretelling of an evil event to come. Yes, I felt it in my very bones! For there shall be high strangeness occurring on the morrow, eerie and macabre elements of a most harrowing nature, insidiously congealing into the supernatural itself! For time shall be displaced and fall in upon itself as my mortal coil will be irreparably sucked into a sinister maelstrom of total and undeniable horror; hence, I shall be plummeted headlong into eldritch realms of ghastly parameters from which I know not when I may escape in one piece – if at all!

For in this ghastly vision, I witnessed myself spiraling around a humongous grey whirlwind of hideous ectoplasmic substance that was being violently spewed forth from the gaping lips of some horrendous monster from below. As I looked down through the hollow eye of the supernatural cyclone, I gazed into the depths of its ghastly mouth, viewing ridges of razor sharp teeth above and below, and a long red spiked tongue darting in and out, and as I peered down further, down through the horrifying esophagus, I saw half eaten humans, some still alive, groaning or screaming as they bobbed in reeking stomach acids, trying to reach upward as if help would come to them, but none came. Some clawed at the sides of the stomach wall, to no avail. As the acid splashed up in their faces, I saw flesh and eyeballs melt away, I saw skulls appear as skin peeled away, and their little mouths still screamed horribly.

I closed my eyes, but then I felt something wet and exquisitely painful. I opened my eyes and found myself amidst these poor souls, inside this insidious hell within this terrifying monster’s very stomach! I reached my hands up and screamed like the rest of them, acid splashing upon me, and I saw the flesh drape down from my skeleton arms, and I felt my face pealing away – how hideous! And then I fainted--

I woke up abruptly as if from a heinous nightmare. I had been reading an H. P. Lovecraft volume. I laughed, for it was no premonition at all. It was merely a bad dream, influenced by reading some ghastly tale of horror.

Then I heard a hideous noise outside, a low-pitched howling sound. I went to the window, pushed aside the curtain, and froze. As icy fingers of terror crawled up my spine, I beheld a most gruesome monstrosity ever imaginable! The very one I beheld in my horrible nightmare! And it swiftly lumbered toward my abode! This was no nightmare at all! My fate now came for me all too swiftly!

* * * * * *

Damn! The garbage disposal was clogged. Right after I shoved some chicken bones down its slimy gullet. I didn’t want to stick my hand down there, lest something horrible happened – like what? The machine chewing up my hand and spitting it out? I chuckled. As long as I didn’t flip the switch, I knew I would be okay. So I reached my hand down into the narrow orifice of the dangerous unit, grabbing a few of the ground up chicken bones, while eyeing the switch, as if it would flip on of its own accord. Then I pricked my finger on one of the sharp bones. I yanked to pull my hand out, but it was stuck. The little round hole was too small apparently, and I had to twist my hand this way and that to ease it out. But it still wouldn’t budge. I could swear the hole was getting tighter! Finally I was able to yank it out, safely, bruised and a tad bloody though.

Forget those damned chicken bones! Suddenly the machine turned on of its own accord as it whirred into life, grinding away at the chicken bones! Thank God my hand was out in time! I flipped the switch up and down several times, to no avail. Then it whirred off on its own. That was weird!

I shrugged it off for now, but when I left the kitchen and entered the living room, it whirred back on – for twenty seconds or so, before dying off once again. Now I realized the truth --the damned garbage disposal was haunted!

I called the plumber, and joked with him that I would have called the Ghostbusters if they really existed. Once he arrived and examined the unit under the sink, the unkempt plumber told me that there was obviously a short in the wiring somewhere. I told him to be careful sticking his hand in the hole. He assured me he had worked on thousands of these units and knew how to be safe.

As I walked out of the kitchen, realizing the idea of a haunted garbage disposal was absurd, I suddenly heard the machine grind into life, and the plumber screamed hideously! Then he stopped abruptly, as the grinding sound died as well. I turned, saw blood splattered everywhere – and the man was hunched over the sink, arms splay out to each side. Hmmm. He didn’t put either of his hands in. How curious. Then what did happen? I walked over, and somehow, his head had been jammed into the hole! But there was nothing between his shoulders now, except a gaping bloody wound -- he had no head left at all!

* * * * * *

I was simply taking a leisurely walk through the graveyard -- when suddenly something, or somebody's hands, grabbed at my unsuspecting ankles and yanked at them, as if trying to pull me down into soft damp soil. As I began to sink deeper into the soft earth, it began to occur to me that was exactly what was going on. I didn't know what to do -- then I had an idea. I started screaming my lungs out and flailing my arms around. Well, it wasn't the greatest of ideas, but it was all I could think of in that panic-stricken moments. Wasn't long before I had been pulled into the earth just above my knees -- wait, now down to my waist -- hold on, now up to my chest -- hang on, now up to my neck!

Then I began to realize what was happening. I had walked over the very grave of a person I once knew, as I quickly read the engraved words on the tombstone before it was too late, "Here lies Harry Fink, and he could really stink!" This was a man whom I made life miserable, a coworker I had played plenty of practical jokes on over the years. Perhaps, I'm almost reluctant to admit, that's what caused the poor schmuck to commit himself to the asylum, where he eventually committed suicide – just under a year ago. So now he was getting even with me, obviously, from beyond the grave, from below the earth, six feet under! And apparently that's exactly where he was dragging me!

Suddenly my head went under, and I got a mouth full of yucky worm-infested dirt right after my collapsing lungs burst forth their last hideous scream of breath!

Suffocation is so exciting and literally breathtaking, not something I wish upon anyone else, so I'll just keep it all to myself. I suppose I'm selfish that way.

So right before everything totally blacked out, I heard below me the distinct voice of Harry Fink vengefully snarling, “Gotcha!”

* * * * * *

I stretched and yawned, lying in bed, preparing to go to sleep. I turned off the bedside lamp and lay down, pulling the cozy covers up to my chin. I scrunched and nestled into the warm covers until I was comfortable. Aaaaahhh. Sleep at last.

Then I heard something, a strange moaning sound. From the closet, I thought. Or perhaps it came from outside. Maybe a wind was picking up, and it was moaning through the tree branches. I nestled again.

But I heard that ominous moaning sound again. Yes, coming from the closet!

I bolted up in bed and turned on the light. I heard nothing and saw nothing. And the closet door was closed tight. Had some old friend snuck into my house to play a prank? Nobody that I knew had an extra key.

I turned off the light and laid back down, pulling the covers up over me.

That moaning sound from the closet was louder, and it sounded rather mournful. That's all I needed, a mournful moaning from behind the closed the door!

But I was too tired and too sleepy to care. Or so I tried to convince myself. So I relaxed and decided to ignore whatever it was.

But that ominous mournful moaning was even loudest this time!

I quickly turned on the light, jumped out of bed, marched to the closet, grabbed the doorknob, swung the door open wide and . . . .

I screamed my last breath of life as the repugnant, slobbering monster with the huge gaping mouth ate me--

* * * * * *

The Thing Beneath the Bed

Little Timmy was afraid of the monsters under the bed. He was afraid they were going to get him. He told his Mommy that they made weird growling sounds under his bed, but she just said it was his wild imagination. But little did she know that the imagination of a child could manifest virtually anything. Even the monsters beneath his bed.

That night, like she always did, she told little Timmy an exciting fairytale, the kind with a happy ending. And little Timmy always asked his Mommy, "But did the prince have monsters under his bed?"

She shook her head and replied, "No, Timmy. The prince slew all the monsters under his bed long ago."

"Can I hear the tale of how he slew all the monsters? That way I'll know how to slay the ones under my bed."

She chuckled, "Maybe tomorrow night. You have to go to sleep now."

"But Mommy, if I don't learn how to slay them, the monsters will get me."

But Mommy assured him, "Timmy, there are no monsters under your bed.

"But there are."

"Have they gotten you yet?"

"No, but they're just waiting for the right moment."

"There are no monsters under your bed. Now go to sleep."

She tucked him in, turned off the bedside lamp, and turned on the little clown nightlight. Then she stepped outside and closed the door.

As Timmy pulled the covers up over his head, he began to hear the growling of the monsters from beneath his bed.

"Go away, monsters!"

Then he heard a horrible growling voice, "This is the night."

"No it's not! Go away!"

"Yes it is, Timmy. This is the night."

Timmy pulled the covers higher over his head and scrunched himself into the tightest fetal position possible.

Then the growly voice said, "Come under the bed and join us."

"No!"

"But we have cookies for you."

"What kind?"

"Uh, oatmeal raisin cookies."

"Yuck! I hate that kind!"

"Uh, no wait, they're chocolate chip cookies."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Okay."

Timmy climbed out of bed, and crawled under the bed and joined the monsters beneath, who actually did lure him in with chocolate chip cookies.

What ever happened to him, nobody really knows, but the next morning when his Mommy came to wake him up and found him missing, she began to think that perhaps there were indeed monsters beneath his bed! Just to be sure, she got down on her hands and knees and looked under there, but since it was too dark, she had to crawl under there quite a ways -- and that was the last anyone ever saw of her!

* * * * * *

The time was well after midnight under a dark moonless sky. Frank and his brother Hank, two vile grave robbers, gouged their shovel into the dirt, tossing loads of dirt aside, until they hit solid wood.

"Ha! We've struck pay dirt!" cried Frank.

"Yeah. Mr. Smithweather’s riches!" hollered Hank.

But when they dug the dirt off of the coffin, and opened it, there was only an old brittle skeleton inside.

"Damn that Mr. Biggs!" Frank growled. "He told us there was supposed to be bundles of greenbacks down here!"

"That lying swindler!" Hank snarled.

Suddenly the ground shook like the tremors of an earthquake -- and something sharp tore through the bottom of the open coffin, as several sharp blades dug upward, tearing through wood and bones -- and ripping through blood and flesh as Frank and Hank were gruesomely torn to shreds -- as hideously repulsive creatures crawled up through the new hole below. It was hideous zombie mutants from Hell!

Dozens of them -- no, hundreds, poured and oozed and flew out of that grave hole like frantic ants scurrying from their hole -- only much bigger and uglier. They growled and shrieked and screamed as they ran or crawled or flew through the streets of the sleeping city, ravaging everything around them, and breaking into homes and devouring unsuspecting people before they could wake -- and those that did, only lived for mere seconds before they were eaten alive by the rampaging hideous zombie mutants from Hell!

They had razor-sharp blades instead of hands. They had rows of sharp saw blades for teeth, and they had wriggling long tentacles growing out of their eye sockets. Many could fly on widespread bat wings, and some had grotesque huge heads, whereas others had no heads at all, but gaping mouths between knobby shoulders.

They ate, they fed, they feasted, they gorged, and they devoured the helpless human inhabitants of the sprawling city before them. Gruesome carnage lay everywhere in the houses and in the streets. Crimson blood and gore was found in every corner of the now dead city. The army of hideous zombie mutants had a notion to move on to the next city, and then the next, and then the next! All across the land!

Until something unexpected happened. Something or somebody crawled out of that grave hole, something more hideous than those disgusting zombie mutants themselves! It was their fearless evil leader, the Devil himself! If these evil minions weren’t wretchedly horrible enough, then what horrors did their diabolical chief have in mind? What morbid, sadistic, terrifying plans did he have?

Finally, the Devil called to his legions of terror, "Okay! Lunch break’s over! Get back down here! Pronto!"

* * * * * *

The Door Knockers

Flabby Freddie Finglemeyer was sitting contentedly in his comfortable easy chair watching TV, but since he was energetically channel-surfing, his nimble index finger flicking the button at least ten flicks per second, he wasn't really watching anything in particular.

Suddenly, somebody knocked at his front door. Freddy reluctantly climbed out of his easy soft chair with a long dismal groan and waddled to the front door. But when he opened the door after the third series of knocks, nobody was there. He slammed it shut and returned to the comfort of his easy chair -- when suddenly somebody proceeded to knock at his backdoor. He groanfully climbed out of the chair again, waddled through the back hall, and opened the back door, but nobody was there. He swore a few choice uncouth words as he slammed the door. Figuring it was just kids pulling some adolescent prank, he decided to ignore anymore door knocking.

Freddy almost got seated in his easy chair when he heard loud rapping at his living room window. Afraid somebody would break it, he ran over to the window, opened the blinds, and saw nobody there. Then he heard someone knocking at the front door again. Well, he was already up, so he waddled over and opened the front door, and of course, saw nobody there. Then somebody was pounding heavily at his back door. He swore a long streak of naughty filthy words as he hurriedly dashed to the backdoor, hoping to get their before somebody could disappear – but too late, nobody was there.

Then Freddy had an idea. He waddled up to the front door, crouched down, and waited.

And waited . . . and waited.

Somebody began pounding violently at the backdoor again!

But Freddy decided not to get it, because eventually the idiot would have to knock at the front door. So he let whoever it was continue to pummel at the backdoor -- except that he was afraid they would break it down. So he hurried to the backdoor to stop them, yanked the door open, and nobody was there.

Suddenly, Freddy heard somebody insanely beating at the front door and maniacally pummeling the back door simultaneously, and also there was loud rapping on several windows. With his pudgy clenched fists he tried to cover his ears as he screamed loudly, because all this pounding and beating and pummeling on his doors and windows was starting to drive him stark idiotically mad! In fact, it drove him so furiously crazy that he grabbed two large sharpened pencils and jammed them into his ears, totally puncturing his eardrums so that he couldn't hear the persistent onslaught of raucous noise anymore. Yes, it was painful, but well worth the damage, he figured.

Unfortunately, he could still hear the thunderous earsplitting violent pounding all around him – for he finally realized that it was all in his head!

* * * * * *

Max the Monster Slayer

The Halloween party was definitely exciting! There were people dressed up as vampires, zombies, mummies, Frankenstein monsters, ghosts, creatures from black lagoons, werewolves, plenty of movie horror characters, like Michael Meyers from the Halloween movies, Jason from the Friday the 13th movies, Freddy Krueger from the Nightmare on Elm Street movies, and so many other strange and eerie characters.

Max Sampson came up with his own creation -- a monster slayer. He wore some kind of camouflage military outfit, big black boots, and an awesome gas mask. He had a dozen hand-grenades clipped to his utility belt, a long sheathed sword on his back, a machinegun hanging from a strap around his shoulder, and a sheathed hunting knife strapped to his outer thigh -- but they were all fake, of course.

As strange and scary as all these characters and monsters were, most of them were pretty cheesy looking. Phony is as phony does, Max chuckled to himself. In his own mind, Max Sampson imagined himself as being the most authentic looking, especially for a monster slayer -- even though the sword was made out of silver spray-painted wood, and the black plastic machine gun and green plastic grenades and rubber hunting knife he had purchased from the local toy store.

A vampire with plastic fangs and whited out face came up to him and chuckled, "What are you supposed to be? G.I. Joe gone wild? Kinda stupid looking, if you ask me."

Max just frowned and moved along. After fetching some orange frosted pumpkin cake and hot spiced cider, he stood and talked to a green-faced, pointy-hatted witch, whose witch’s cackled was pretty pathetic.

"How's the war front, soldier man?" she asked facetiously.

In his tough guy voice next replied, "For me, this is the war front."

"Seriously? What kind of soldier are you?"

"I'm a monster slayer."

She just laughed, then ambled off to find someone else to talk to.

He had imagined that monster slayers would be pretty cool at a Halloween party. So far he was a dud.

He didn’t really fit in with of the rest of the scary crowd. He was just a lonesome loser.

A zombie with a phony gash across his cheek chuckled, “Oh no! The air is poisoned, everyone!"

A Frankenstein added, "Yeah, got any extra gas masks, army man?"

A patch-eyed, bearded pirate growled, "Nay, this bloody bucko’s bein’ a selfish wretch of a dog! No masks for the lot of us! Aaaaarrrrrrrr!”

More and more, people started making fun of him, and he began getting angry.

Suddenly, a tall grandfather clock began clanging its reverberating chimes, and it struck twelve times. After that, the atmosphere of the place seemed to change; something truly ominous began to occur, as if a spell had been cast at the stroke of midnight. Everyone began to transform and transmogrify. They began to turn into what their costumes depicted. Whatever costume each one was wearing was no longer a costume. They had become real – real live horror creatures. The cheesy masqueraders became actual scary monsters and creatures and characters from legends and myths and movies.

Max Sampson observed this eerie change all around him, and for several seconds he was scared witless. Then he realized something; his machine gun felt very heavy, as if it was real. Then he grabbed the hilt of his sword and drew it forth -- it was genuine steel, and very sharp. A wide grin spread across his face behind the gas mask. He had been transformed into a real life monster slayer!

Somehow the monsters suspected what he was, and as they began to growl or groan or howl, they crept toward him.

Max quickly gripped the machine gun with one hand and began firing volleys of bullets into the monsters, surprising them as they lurched backward or as some fell dead to the floor, and with the other hand he began slashing and hacking his broadsword as heads and arms flew. He was creating a bloody, gory mess out of the lot of them!

Yes indeed, Max the Monster Slayer was in town! Monsters, beware!

* * * * * *

We hope you didn’t fail to enjoy these titillatingly terrifying tales of hideous horror!

All we can say now is –

BWOOOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

Published by Bamblebrush Press