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Devil Land


Devil Land

Joe Zito

Joe Zito

Copyright Joe Zito 2016

Published a Shakespir





What you are about to read is the second incarnation of my short story collection. It was originally called ‘Barns, Blood, and Rock and Roll’. I decided to revise it and added some newer stories to go along with the ones I already had. I also changed the name to ‘Devil Land’ for no reason other than it sounds cool, and it is used in the story ‘Diable Terre’ which is a rather bloody tale of a mad women who terrorizes her niece with a sick cutting ritual. These stories were written between 2013 and 2015.




































Also by Joe Zito


The Garage

The Garage 2 – Deep in the corn

Black creek river

Game Night































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The flesh and blood of John Henry


Date Night



The Pack

The Gretchens

The Rock and Roll Massacre of ‘76

In unison

Bloodbound: The diary of Amy Smith

Lauren’s will

Ellen Sue goes to hell

Psycho ‘78

The Diner

Storm Story (bonus story)

Mr. Scary (bonus story)





The old man’s rocking chair creaked on the wooden floor of the porch. It sounded like bones cracking on a skull face widening to a hellish grin. Grandpa Joe sat holding a sweaty glass of ice tea in his hand as a warm blanket of humid air settled down on the edge of dusk and the ball of fire in the sky sunk down, glistening in the distance while crickets and cicadas buzzed like miniature chainsaws throughout his farm, and in front of him sat his three grandchildren awaiting one of his summertime tall tales about witches trapped in white houses, devils locked in barns or beasts buried out in the corn. Little Billy sat in the middle between his older brother and sister with knots in his stomach. On the inside of the house Grandma turned on the porch light as the sun died out completely and Grandpa Joe with a half-crazed grin and a dark look in his eyes, leaned forward and said, “Do you want to hear a story?”








Origin of the bloodbeast





My name is Eldon Wharton and I believe that I created the devil of Indiana many years ago when I was a boy. It was an evil creature so hideous and frightening that it still plagues my dreams to this day.

It was June of 1947 and my father Maynard Wharton was down on his luck just like most farmers that year in Indiana. Our once thriving fields of corn were now plagued by a nasty drought and a returning flock of black crows. I don’t know if it was the heat or if my father had really lost his mind but he believed that these crows were an evil entity and were causing the drought.

“They’re killing our crops Eldon, don’t you see? They’re bad wretched vultures.”

One day when I was out playing in our barn jumping from haystack to haystack. My Father pulled me aside and said he had a job for me.

“Quit messing with that hay Eldon and get over here.”

He was holding a big brown bag; god knows what was in it. He put his hand gently on my shoulder and looked down on me with this half-crazy looking grin on his face.

“Son, I have a job for you. I need your help with those crows”

He dumped the contents of the bag out in front of me. A variety of items fell before my eyes: rope, potato sacs, a pair of big black work boots, one of my father’s old work shirts.

“We’re gonna make a scarecrow Eldon.” He said it with that same grin on his face.

We began putting together the thing that my father hoped would put an end to the drought and crows as we worked all night in the barn.

“Make it really scary now son. We gotta get rid of them crows,” he said.

In addition to the things that fell out of the brown bag, there were also some nails, some scrap metal and a small bear trap.

Finally the work was finished and I was exhausted but more terrified by what I had created by the command of my father. He lifted up the large scarecrow and I immediately got a cold chill looking at it. We had driven those nails into its hands and tongue which was a long piece of liver. And we used the small bear trap as its mouth.

The hideous thing was horrifying. We heard a rumble of distant thunder along with the chirping of crickets just outside the barn. My father looked up and out at the night sky through the half opened barn doors.

He said, “See there Eldon. It’s working already. It’s going to rain. C’mon, let’s get it out there in the field before it starts pouring.”

His excitement was scary. I didn’t feel good at all about what we had done. It was just a simple scarecrow but not really. The thing was huge. I had a sick feeling in my stomach.

We treaded through our cornfield to a cleared spot my father had made. There was a tall, wooden crucifix in the middle of the cleared area. He perched the scarecrow up on the cross. It leaned a little to the left. Heat lightening flashed in the distance eerily lighting up the monster we created.

“I got the final touch for it. Wait here.” My father took off quickly running back to the house, leaving me alone with the scarecrow and its horrid face drooping down as if it was staring at me from up there where it hung. The wind rustled the corn around me. I was just waiting for that thing to reach down and pull me up into its evil face. My father returned and in his hand was a large witch’s hat. It was the same hat my mother wore last Halloween. I hated it.

“There,” he said with a smile as he placed the hat on its slanted head. “Now it’s finished. Let’s get back to the house and wait for that rain.”

He sat on the porch sitting in his rocking chair, looking out at the cornfield, and waiting for the rain as the thunder still rumbled far away and heat lighting lit up the sky. I went inside to be with my mother and three sisters. I couldn’t stay awake so I went to bed. But I was awakened some time later by the sound of rain hitting the roof of our house.

“Get up son. Get up! Do you hear that?” His smile was large and his eyes were even larger with lunacy. “I told you it would work!”

Still in my pajamas, he dragged me downstairs and pulled me halfway through the darkness of our house waking up my mother and sisters in the process. He pulled me along so fast I didn’t have time to get my shoes on or put on my jacket. We busted through the kitchen door and ran towards the cornfield; that eerie, slanted crucified devil showing its ugliness through the flashes of lighting. I heard my mother yelling from behind me to put my shoes on. I also heard her let out this kind of half shout and cry of joy, possibly because of the rain.

We made it to the scarecrow and my father started jumping up and down, laughing maniacally and clapping his hands. He fell to his knees in front of the beastly thing.

“Thank you, thank you!” He yelled out.

I just wanted to go back to the house and get out of the rain. He turned to me, still on his knees, and put his hands on my shoulders. He stared into my eyes.

“I told you it would work Eldon.” He said it softly and as if he was going to cry and then a hot, long streak of lighting struck the scarecrow. An explosion of light and sound hit all at once. Small silver balls of light burst into the air. The blast knocked us down. My father sat up slowly and looked at the smoking, evil creation hung up on the crucifix.

“No,no, it can’t be,” he cried.

Lightning struck it again and the scarecrow fell to the ground. It was burnt and charred and looked even more terrifying than before. And then to my unbelieving eyes the tall beastly thing began to move. It flattened its nail driven hands on the ground and began to push itself up. The rain was coming down hard now and the monster stood all the way up. My father’s eyes were big with fright yet his mouth was open just slightly in a grin of amazement. The beast stood in the rain staring at us both. We were on our knees and then it lurched forward. I scooted back on my bottom on the saturated ground. My father still had that look of terror and curious wonder on his face. The scarecrow growled at the thunder booming in the rainy night. And then my father, still on his knees, began to pray aloud.

“Praise lord jesus, may not this evil creation strike me down.”

The beast went towards him and put its large hand around his neck. He lifted up my father to the black, stormy sky. I was in shock and the scream of bloody horror that I wanted to let out was trapped in my throat.

“Run Eldon!” My father screamed.

I don’t remember getting up and running through the cornfield. I don’t remember the rain coming down hard as ever and hitting my body and it hurting like something awful. I don’t remember violent strikes of lighting hitting all around me. I do remember the sounds that were coming from the cornfield once I reached our house; the wretched, choking, gurgling, half screaming and pleading horror coming from my father. The next time I saw him was two days later lying in a large brown casket; his body flat and deflated looking, for that thing had sucked every last bit of blood from his body.

A week after my father’s death, I was lying in bed trying to understand what happened that night and what that awful thing was. A tremendous feeling of guilt came over me at the thought of helping my father create the hideous thing that night in the barn. The moon was peeking through the summer night clouds as I laid in my bed thinking of all this and wondering why I didn’t remember getting up and running back to the house, seeing my mother swing open the door and scream at me, asking me where my father was. And then in the darkness of my room a horrid fright came over me when I did remember one other thing about that night, and that was the two red gleaming eyes staring back at me from the edge of our cornfield as I ran out.

One night in 1974, many years after that frightening night, I scared the holy life out of my family when I woke up screaming from the worst nightmare I’ve ever had. Up until that point I hadn’t thought about that night the scarecrow came to life. But when I woke up screaming, half falling out of bed and making my two sons’ cry and my wife afraid to sleep with me for the next two weeks, I knew that thing, that horrible bloodthirsty thing was back and I saw it in my nightmare. There were these kids in my dream. I’ve never seen them before in my life. I don’t know who they were but they were in some kind of small building, maybe a garage, and there was so much blood and horrific screaming. And there was the girl with long black hair. She was a very pretty girl and she was screaming and crying and was covered in blood. I could feel her terror. And I saw those red gleaming eyes again. The same eyes staring at me that night long ago.

It’s been many years since I moved away from Indiana, leaving behind the terrors of that night and for the most part I’ve blocked it out fairly well. That is until now. The nightmares have started again. The past two weeks I’ve been having the same dream every night. It’s an older woman about my age. She is running through a cornfield and she is scared to death and she is looking for someone named Heather. She keeps saying her name over and over. And then she starts to cry and begins saying the name Amy.

I don’t know who these people are in my dream. I’ve never seen them at all in my life. But in some odd way I feel connected to them. Maybe I will never understand why I am having these dreams or what they are supposed to mean. But I do know one thing for sure, and that is I do believe I created something vulgar, wicked and deadly all those years ago that night in the barn with my father, and I shall never return to that dreadful place again.





















The Letter





Gavin sat on the floor at the foot of his bed reading the letter his grandpa Sam had left on his dresser. It was Friday June 8th, the morning of the last day of school and Gavin’s senior year. Of course this meant big parties and plenty of teenage sexual angst to go around for the upcoming weekend. But Gavin’s grandpa had one particular concern in which he wanted to express in his letter to his only grandson; more so a warning. Gavin’s eyes drifted across the off white paper, reading the letter his grandpa had written to him which read something like this…..


To my dearest Gavin,

First I wanna tell you congratulations on graduating. You’re Mom and Dad and I are so proud of you. You’re gonna have a great future ahead of you. But you are probably wondering why I’m writing you this letter. I know your Dad has got you that fine automobile sittin’ out in your garage waiting for you to take it for a spin. That’s some graduation present. I know I was excited as a rabbit in spring when I got my first car. But I’m not here to harp on you about being safe and all that. I know you’re a good kid and you will do the right thing. I’m writing this to tell you where not to go. See Gavin, there’s a place not too far from where you live. I know you’ve heard of it and you and your friends I reckon have talked about goin’out there all ready. The place I’m talking about is a stretch of road called Devil’s Bluff. Just writing it down right now gives me a chill. Gavin, please don’t go on that road. It’s dangerous but maybe not for the reason you think. Of course kids have raced down there throughout the years which is and can be dangerous. But there is another reason why I want you to stay off of there and it’s not about speed. See Gavin, I saw something there one night back in 1958 during the summer when I was 17. Something that scared the hell out of me and I just can’t explain what it was. I was working for my old man at his shop Salem and Son’s at the time, and Christ was it hot that summer of ’58, oh so damn hot…..


A large winged moth fluttered wildly around a bright shining flood light in the top corner of the building known as Salem and Son’s, a small body shop and wrecker service in the town of Bludenhale, Indiana. A large wooden sign painted white with red letters was attached to the roof. It read ‘Salem and Son’s 24 hr.wrecker service and body shop’. It was the summer of 1958 and the hottest summer on record at the time.

Inside, owner John Salem was sitting at his desk with his legs propped up on top. It was 4 a.m. and it was just about quitting time. He had sent out his son Sam along with shop workers, Walt and George to pick up an abandoned truck out on 650 S. He wanted his son to get some experience so he sent him out with Walt and George. “Just watch how they do it and don’t mess with anything,” he had told him before they set out. John was holding the latest issue of Playboy magazine. The centerfold hung out sideways as did Johns head to get a better view of Marylin Monroe.

“Holy Jesus,” John said slowly as he gawked at the centerfold.

A small metal fan sitting on his desk blew the pages of the magazine. The window air conditioner was broke so the tiny fan had to make do. A small radio on top of a grey filing cabinet was playing Rock around the clock by Bill Haley and the Comets through its yellow grated speakers. John howled at the luscious centerfold of a young Marylin Monroe.

“Wheeew-yyy, she’s a,”


The front door to the shop burst open, jingling the bells on top in a clanking frenzy.

“Jesus jumpin’ halibut! What in the Christ!” John shouted.

He threw the magazine down on the desk and kicked his legs back down to the floor. Walt Meyer, one of John’s employees’ slammed through the door, breathing in large heavy gasps.

“Jesus Walt what the hell’s gotten into you?” John barked.

“It…It got George…It got Geor,” Walt sputtered out of breath.

“What got George? What in the sam hell are you blubbering about old man!” John demanded as he walked in front of his desk.

Walt was sixty but could still run with the best of them, but at the moment his age was showing. He hunched forward with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. His blue hat had fallen off his head and to the floor. His shiny dome and salt and pepper sides were revealed.

“George…It…his head…Oh god,” Walt coughed and spat.

“Where’s Sam, Walt?” John asked with immediate concern now in his voice. “Where’s my boy? Is he hurt?”

And at that John ran past Walt and out into the gravel parking lot. Walt was still hunkering down and trying to catch his breath. He waved his hand up as John ran past him. “He’s…He’s all right.’ He coughed himself into a fit thereafter.

John stepped out into the gravel parking lot, scanning the area for his son. The 4 a.m. morning air was as humid and moist as a seventeen year old pussy in the backseat of a 56’ Chevy on a Saturday night. He scanned the parking lot in search of the tow truck that Walt had been driving. The early morning darkness gave way and he saw it at once in his view, its rusted old frame looking as grim as John felt. His heart beat sped up when he saw his son sitting in the passenger’s side seat. John ran to him and when he reached the truck Sam’s complexion was cold white. His legs were up to his chin and he was trembling, just staring out the front window. “Sam,” his father said softly. “You ok boy? What happened?” Slowly, Sam turned his ghostly, pale face towards his father. His mouthed opened only slightly when he said, “Dad,” in a shaky and scared voice. “Are you hurt son?” John asked as he slowly opened the door. “C’mon, let’s get you out of there.” A spiderman comic book fell onto the ground as John opened the door. He gently pulled Sam from the truck and made him put his arm over his shoulder so he could help him inside. Just then Sam’s older brother Jeb came through the entrance door to the body shop making his appearance known when he belted out a laugh. “Holy shit. What the hell happened to you. I know, you got your first piece of pussy didn’t you.” He roared out mean sibling laughter, totally unaware of how bad the situation was. The early dark morning shielded Sam’s look of horror and shock on his face.

“Jeb, shut the hell up and go call the sheriff!” Sam’s father yelled.

“What’s wrong?” Jeb asked.

“Just do it, now!” John said with strong authority in his voice.

As they came closer to Jeb, he could see how pale and scared his little brother was. His demeanor changed dramatically.

“Holy shit. Ok dad.” Jeb flew away from the door; the smirk on his face replaced by a mask of fright.

“C’mon boy. We’re almost there.” Sam’s father had to practically drag his son across the gravel parking lot. “Let’s get you inside and set you down on the couch.”


My older brother Jeb, boy he could be real cold hearted sometimes, but when I got inside and sat down on the couch in my father’s office, the look on his face was like somethin’ I’ve never seen before. He looked almost as scared as me. My father brought me a Styrofoam cup of cold water. He made me sip it slowly. I remember seein’ old man Walt standing there in the corner of the office. He was staring at me but he wasn’t at the same time. He looked something awful because he done saw the same as I did. I’m sorry Gavin if my hand writing is a little jagged. Just thinkin’ about this makes me nervous. My father called the sheriff immediately. He got there pretty quick beings that it was early morning and not many people were out. The sheriff had brought along a younger, newer cop with him I remember. This kid had a look about him like he was excited or something. They were all standing around me looking down at me and I was so scared and out of it. The older sheriff, I think his name was Brady or something like that. He kneeled down to me and put his hand on my shoulder. I remember him saying……

“It’s ok son. You just take your time. We’re gonna find out what scared the jesus out of you, all right. Everything’s going to be ok.” He stood up and adjusted his belt and gave his deputy Red Brown a nod. Quickly like a well behaved and fresh out of the academy rookie, Red got out his small notebook and pen, ready to take notes on the situation that occurred on 650 s. also known as Devils Bluff road.

“Just start from the beginning and tell us everything you can remember.” Officer Brody’s voice was gentle sounding to Sam. It made him feel not quite as scared as he was just a few minutes ago. He slowly sat up, giving his father an unsure look.

“Go on Sammy. It’s ok. Just tell him what happened.” John smiled faintly at his son.

Then the sound of sobbing came from the corner of the office. Walt was leaning against the wall with tears flooding his eyes. He still had that distant look of horror on his face.

“It was bad John. Oh it was so bad. I don’t know what that thing was. Oh dear god.” Walt fell into hysterics as he kneeled down to the floor, huddled up in the corner.

Brody said, “Maybe we should get him outside for some air. Get some water for him to. Let him calm down a bit.”

“Jeb”, John began, “Get old man Walt some water and go with him outside for a while, will you.”

“All right dad, but…” He was cut off suddenly by Walt’s growing hysteria.

“OH No! I ain’t going back out there John. It might be out there. You can’t make me!”

“Now listen here old friend,” John said, “Your scaring my boy. Now I need you to go outside for just a minute. There ain’t nothin’ out there, now stop all this jibberin about nothing!”

Walt cried out in terror at the ceiling in the office.

“Now just take it easy old timer,” Red Brown broke in. You’re safe, ok.” His voice sounded young and boyish.

“Dad!” Sam yelled over top of the ruckus.

The room became silent. All eyes and faces had turned around at the young boy’s voice.

Sam had his head down but then slowly raised it. He said, “Old man Walt ain’t lyin. There was somethin’ out there.”

John gazed at his seventeen year old son with a sad look on his face of wanting to believe him. He looked at Brody.

From the corner Walt said, “Sammy’s a good boy John. You know that. He wouldn’t lie none.”

Of course John knew that his son was a good kid and got good grades and never got into trouble. He just didn’t understand why his son would be making up things like this.

Officer Brody then took command. ‘Ok, old timer, you can stay inside but I need for you to keep quiet all right. Go have a seat over there by the desk and relax.”

Jeb helped Walt over to the desk and took a seat. He covered his face with his old hands.

Red Brown sat down next to Sam. He said, “You’re ok boy,” and smiled. “Were you all out on a run, like pickin’ up some old junker or something?” Red asked. Quietly Sam said, “Yeah.”

John shook his head in agreement with his son. “We got a call about an abandoned truck out on 650s. So I sent out Walt here and my other employee George. I told them to take Sammy with them so he could get some experience on towin’ in automobiles. Next thing I know, an hour later Walt comes bustin’ in here and George is missing and my son was sitting white as a ghost out in our truck.”

Red started writing the information down in his little notebook. “You say 650 s.?” He asked looking up at John.

“Yeah that’s right. There was a pickup sittin’ out there on the side of the road.” John said.

Red tapped his pen on his notebook. “Huh, they call that stretch of road Devils Bluff. Kids like to race their rods out there.”

“That’s what I hear,” John said.

“ Me and a buddy of mine use to ride out there a few years back.” Red shook his head at the memory. “Yeah, ol’ Billy ended up murderin’ this cute little blonde waitress at Joe’s Diner on rt. 11. You just don’t know who you friends are sometimes I guess.” Red all of sudden felt Brody’s eyes burning in to him. Red felt a warmth cover his face as he was embarrassed he got off subject and the matter at hand. He cleared his throat and continued, “So you went out to Devi- I mean 650 s. to tow this pickup right?”

“Yes sir,” Sam said with the quivering sound of fear leaving his voice. “Dad wanted me to go out there with Walt and George so I could learn how to tow…..

And boy was that a bumpy ride goin’ out there, both on the inside and out. George was an old man of about fifty two but he acted like he was seventy two. He smelled real bad and always wore this heavy plaid jacket, even in the summer time. His two front teeth stuck out also. I couldn’t figure out why my dad would hire someone that smells and had bad teeth and told bad jokes and who was just plain dumb. I was sittin’ on the end by the window thank god. Walt was in the middle. We were all crammed together in this little tow truck. The green light from the radio shined on our faces and Johnny Cash was singin’ about the big river. I just wanted to sit there and look at my comic book but George kept making stupid jokes and askin’ me…..

“You get any pussy yet boy?” He let out a long, wheezing type of laugh and hit the steering wheel with his fist. Walt shook his head in disapproval and told Sam, “Don’t mind him none. Feller was born without a lick of sense. George you just shut yer damn mouth and drive. Boy don’t wanna hear your babblin’ and such.”

“Ohhh,” George pouted and scrunched his face.

I continued to look at my comic book even though it was a bumpy ride and it was hotter than the devil pissin’ on burnin’ coals. Just up ahead we saw the pickup sitting there on the side of the road. It would be dawn soon but it was still so black all around me. We got out and I suddenly felt scared and I don’t know why. Maybe it was all that corn around me or maybe I’d just been readin’ to many scary comic books. Whatever it was I felt as though something was wrong. We pulled in front of the pickup and George was wailing about what kind of…….

“Stupid ass just leaves there automobile sittin’ around for no damn reason?”

“Oh hush up you old bastard and let’s just get it towed up all right!” Walt scowled at George. “C’mon Sammy, I’ll show ya how we do it.”

Old man Walt began to show me how to hook up the chain and then tow the pickup onto the tow truck. It seemed easy enough I guess but I still had this bad feelin’ about bein’ out there. Walt must have notice because I seemed kind of quiet I guess. He asked me….

“Boy, are you all right? You haven’t said one word since we left.”

“What?” Sam said as if startled. “Yeah, sure Walt, I’m ok.”

“He’s got that sweet pussy on his mind Walt.” George belted out laughter in the hot early morning. “Just remember boy to hold your nose when you get some. Ain’t nothin’ worse than a skunk cunt in your….

It was then when we heard something from the corn. At least I think it was from the cornfield.

“What in the sam hell?” George said.

“That sounded like somethin’ growlin’” Walt said to no one in particular.

The low and growling tone swept through the corn again.

“I’m gettin’ in the truck!” Sam said.

“Good idea son, c’mon,” Walt agreed.

I did my best to convince myself that I really didn’t hear something growling inside the corn. But I know I wasn’t deaf. George started in again with his mouth. He said…..

“Go on ya chicken shits. There ain’t nothin’ out here. I’ll finish up.”

Me and Walt got back in the truck. I don’t really think old man Walt was scared. I just think he knew that I was and didn’t want to leave me alone. He was a good man like that. George started chaining up that pickup and we heard that awful sound again but it sounded closer and I think it finally got Georges attention.

“What’s that!” George said in a startled tone as he turned around quickly facing the corn. He grabbed the crowbar sitting on the back of the tow truck and began taunting the phantom sound from the corn.

“Who is it? There better not be some youngin’ punk playin’ games and such. I’ll whack you a thousand times to hell if there is ya here!” He stepped off of the gravel road known as Devils Bluff and walked into the narrow lining of grass in front of the cornfield. “C’mon now. Don’t be scared. Ol’ Georgy’s got a surprise for you, c’mon!”

Walt looked at Sam and said. “Just wait here. It’ll be ok. You should know by now that old dumbshit gets a little loopy. Probably runs in his family.” He patted Sam’s leg and opened the door and got out.

Walt said, “George, what in the hell are you doin’? We wanna get back. C’mon now!”

“Just hang on Walt. There’s some punks that want a crowbar sandwich,” George said threateningly looking out into the corn.

‘Dammit George, ya big dumb oaf, there ain’t nothin’ out there, now c’mon I said.”

That big dumb idiot just wouldn’t listen to Walt. I was gettin’ more and more scared by the second to. I just wanted to get out of there but then I heard a yell from outside and then a heavy thud like something hittin’ the ground. I saw the look on Walt’s face when he said…..

“Oh jesus! What the hell!”

I know I shouldn’t have got out of the truck but my fear and curiosity got the best of me I guess. This is so incredibly hard to write about Gavin, but it’s been tugging at me for years now, especially at night when I wake up around three in the morning to go to the bathroom and pass myself in the mirror in the dark. I just stop and stand there and lean my hands on the sink and ask myself did I really see what I thought I did all those years ago. What I’m talkin’ about Gavin is there was something in the corn that night and it got George; pulled him damn straight into the corn. This thing or whatever it was, it was hard to tell because it was dark, it was damn huge and it was pulling George by his legs into that cornfield. And ol’ George was screamin’ and grabbin’ at the night air for his life and all me and Walt could do is just stand there because we was in shock and horrified by what we were seein’. I was standing right next to Walt and his mouth was wide open like he was wanting to scream or something but he couldn’t. That beast thing finally pulled George all the way into the cornfield and then we heard those god awful screams of agony that George was doin’. I think that scared me the most, hearing him scream like that. I’ve never heard a man scream like that or anyone for that matter……………………………..I’m sorry Gavin. I had to take a break from writing for a bit. Then there was silence. It all had stopped. No screaming, just the buzzing of all the cicadas in the cornfield. I couldn’t speak. My throat felt like it had tightened up or something and then I heard Walt say in a very scared and quiet voice…..


There was just a little breeze blowin’ and it made those tall corn stalks sway. Then we heard that horrid, growling sound again. I was trembling all over and Walt said again…..

“George, you ok?”

I felt my stomach turn queasy and tighten up. Tears started welling up in my eyes because I knew George wasn’t comin’ out of that corn and even though I knew he was a foul mouthed, nasty old man, I would never wish any ill will on him. The growling continued and as I write this, remembering that very scary night, I can’t help but remember the utter sickness I felt from what I was hearing in that corn in the dead, black morning. That thing was laughin’ at us. I know what I heard Gavin and I know I’m not crazy. That monster was laughin’ real low like it was playing with us and wanted us to get in that corn and come see what surprise it had to show us. Both Walt and I were stuck to the ground it seemed. We didn’t move and inch. The growling tone moved closer and closer to the edge of the corn. Sometimes I wake up screaming in the middle of the night, still after all of these years, and I can still see those red eyes of horror staring back at me. Oh, dear Gavin, it had red, evil and deadly eyes and they were lookin’ straight at me it seemed and that’s when the vile thing threw George’s lifeless body from the corn. It landed right in front of me and Walt. He let out this puking type of sound and held his mouth closed with his hand. I just looked at George’s body with my big, scared eyes and couldn’t stop gawking at the stump of his neck where his head use to be. That beast had ripped George’s head right off. Walt stumbled back and fell to the ground. Then I heard him sayin’…..

“Oh, dear god! Oh sweet jesus!”

And then he puked. He started tuggin’ at my leg and was sayin’…..

“We gotta go Sammy. We gotta get the hell outta here. C’mon boy!”

I could hear the terror and franticness in his voice. I don’t even remember him pushin’ me back inside the tow truck or him crying all the way back to Salem and Son’s or even my father opening the door to the truck and asking me If I was ok. The cops came out to the shop and I started tellin’ them my story and…..

“That’s what happened sir. I ain’t makin’ it up.”

Sam sat on the couch with a blanket around his shoulders telling officer Brody of what had occurred on Devils Bluff road roughly and hour ago. Deputy Red Brown had worn his pencil down to nothing from writing in his little notebook everything Sam had told him.

Officer Brody was silent for a moment after hearing Sam’s story. He sat up in his chair and sighed. He looked at Red and then John Salem. Getting up from his chair, he adjusted his belt and gun holster and said, “Ok then. Me and Red here will go check it out all right.”

“NO! you can’t go out there. That thing will get you!” Sam said in terror as he jumped up from the couch.

“Now take it easy son. It’s gonna be all right. We’re just gonna go check it out. It’s our job,” Officer Brody firmly told Sam.

Sam looked at his father with lost and hopeless eyes. John shook his head and told his son that the police officers knew what they were doing and that he should try and relax. Sam unwillingly sat back down on the couch and watched the two officers go through the door, out into the dark and muggy morning.

“Hell, I think the kid has just been reading too many comic books to be honest,” Brody said to Red as they drove along a gravel backroad towards Devils Bluff.

“Yeah, but what about the old man, he looked just as spooked as the kid,” Red said.

“I reckon you’re right Red. He done looked like he’d seen the devil.”

“Maybe he did,” Red said and Brody turned his eyes to the young deputy and stared in silence at him for a moment from his creepy comment.

They were on Devils Bluff and slowly came up on the pickup sitting on the side of the road. The headless body of George was nowhere to be seen.

“Well there she is,” Brody said as they pulled up to the pickup.

The squad car came to a stop next to the truck. Red started to open the door but Brody said, “Look Red, why don’t you just hang tight for a minute. Let me go check it out ok, please.”

“What?” Red told him. “This is my first big call since graduating from the academy. Why can’t I go with you?”

“I know Red that this is your first big run but when dispatch called us out to Salem and Sons they said there was a deceased body involved, according to what the kid and the old man had told them.”

Red sat there almost pouting like a child. He thought to himself, Once again at the kiddie table, let the adults eat.

“I’ll wave to you if I need your assistance ok,” Brody told Red and then opened the door and got out. His shoes crunched against the gravel road as he slowly walked around the abandoned pickup. As he surveyed the truck a rush of thoughts went through his mind, Dammit Brody, why did ya have to do that to the kid? He’s just too young and green to see anything real bad right now.

A hint of dawn was beginning to show itself in the morning sky but it was still very dark. Brody shined his flashlight all around the area of the truck. Then he noticed a small opening in the cornfield. It looked like the corn had been smashed down. He stepped a little closer to it and peered inside. Red sat in the squad car looking out the front windshield. He wondered what his partner was doing snooping around the corn. A few seconds later Brody stuck his head out from the corn and put his hand up to Red letting him know to stay put. He pointed to the corn and then stepped inside the blackness. Red threw his arms up in frustration and sighed. He tapped his fingers nervously on his knee. Why didn’t he ask me to go with him? It’s just a damn old truck on the side of the road. I don’t see any dead bodies layin’ around.

Moments later Brody stepped out of the corn. Red sat up in attention, looking at Brody standing there by the corn. He was turned to the side so Red couldn’t see his face. Brody’s shoulders moved slowly up and down from his heavy breathing. Finally he turned toward the squad car and stared at Red. What the hell is wrong with him? Red thought. Brody walked like a zombie to the car and opened the door and got in. He just sat there not saying anything, looking out the window into the dark morning with a ghost white look of terror on his face.

Then Red spoke. “Well, how’d it go? Well what was it Brody? Yoohoo, Brody.” Red waved his hand in front of his partner. “Look, I’m gonna go check it out.”

Officer Brody firmly put his hand on Reds leg, squeezing it, making it hurt. “You ain’t going nowhere son.” He slowly turned his head towards Red. “Oww, Brody let go. I said let go dammit!” Red demanded. Brody released his grip and returned his ghost like stare through the windshield. The engine of the squad car hummed a low tone as they sat inside, not saying anything for a few moments.

“What the hell did you see in there Brody?” Red asked. His partner didn’t respond. But the bloody memory from just minutes ago surged through his mind: a headless corpse of an old man and a ripped open and gutted stomach of another man. It was a memory that would haunt him for the rest of his time on the Bludenhale Police Department and every night when he would lay his head down on his pillow, watching his wife sleep, and praying he wouldn’t wake up screaming another night. Brody turned to Red. Wide, moist eyes that were filling up with tears gazed frightfully at him. “You all right Brody?” Red asked him in a low scared voice. “We need to call an ambulance,” Brody said in a lifeless tone. Red forced his head in agreement but it was gnawing at him on the inside. Why won’t he tell me what he saw? Sixteen years later on a very hot and early morning and on the same gravel road, Red Brown would then understand why his partner would never speak of what he saw after walking out of the cornfield in 1958.

Them two officers got back to the shop about an hour later. As soon as they walked through the door I asked them if they saw George. The younger cop didn’t say anything and his partner held his head low like he didn’t want to look at me. Finally he looked up and he looked like he was real sick or something. He didn’t say nothin’, he just stood there with this scared look in his eyes. It was then that I knew he saw George or maybe something even worse, I don’t know. So you see Gavin, there is a reason why I don’t want to you goin’ out there. What I’ve told you is true, I ain’t makin’ it up and you know I would never lie to you. Now, I’ll understand if you go to your dad and tell him that old grandpa Sam has lost his marbles. I never told your dad about what I saw that night. I don’t why I never did. Maybe I was just to scared to talk about it or I just didn’t want my son to think I was crazy. I did my best to keep him off that road, tellin’ him the usual things a father says to his son about racin’ cars and driving wild and being safe. Hell, for all I know he could’ve went out there a hundred times. Don’t get me wrong Gavin, I love my son and I feel terrible after all these years knowing that I should have told him. Maybe that’s why I’m tellin’ you now. Or maybe I just need to kill that memory once and for all and finally get a good night’s sleep. Ok, my hands getting’ a little tired from writing so much, so I think I’ll pack it up now. Just remember Gavin, you’re my grandson and I love you and I know you’re gonna have a great life ahead of you. But never forget, stay off Devils Bluff road.



































Diable Terres





Charlotte Winslow murdered her sister and her sister’s husband in 1933. She slaughtered them with an ax and got away with it. No one was charged with the murder or found guilty and no one would ever believe that the devoted god fearing Christian woman Charlotte Winslow could ever do such an atrocity. Her plan worked. Their bodies were found in an abandoned barn on the southern edge of Develenue county, Indiana. They had sat there for three days soaking up hot Indiana sun and by the time police discovered them they were a sloppy, coagulated, watery, steaming mess of flesh gunk. It was a wonderful treat for the fat horseflies in the barn.

Charlotte’s thirteen year old niece Mary was distraught as can be as she laid her weeping and tearful eyes onto her aunt’s bosom hours after hearing of her parent’s grisly death. Her aunt filled that nurturing motherly role as she gently stroked her niece’s dark brown hair, comforting her as the sound of her sisters screams played like an out of tune violin in her head.

Charlotte went to live with her sister Ellen in 1928 after Charlotte’s husband dropped dead of a stroke one Sunday morning after church. Ellen and her husband Gregory insisted that she come live with them and that it wasn’t good for her to be alone. Charlotte, who was fifty, felt the pangs of humiliation go through her at the idea of her thirty five year old little sister asking her to come live with her out of pity.

By the time Ellen was born, Charlotte was fifteen and already feeling the curiosities that went along with becoming a woman, so she never took to her newborn sister very well. Besides, Charlotte was in a situation that was very similar to what happened to her mother nine months before. She had become pregnant and found out just after Ellen was born. She wanted to vomit at the sight of her mother cradling her newborn sister. Charlotte took care of things though a few weeks later in the darkness of her father’s cornfield. A rusty piece of barbwire helped end her predicament. She never spoke of her short lived pregnancy or what she did. It was at that tender age of fifteen that she released herself into the hands of god and never looked back. And for this her future niece would feel the full brunt of her religious ways, just as Mary’s parents did when Charlotte had them hogtied and gagged in that abandoned barn with an ax kissing their mouths.

By 1933 Ellen and her husband had had enough of Charlotte’s constant talk of the coming end of days and over fanatical religious ways. “You’re scaring Mary, Charlotte, now please stop!” Ellen had told her sternly. Charlotte knew there was no reaching her sister and Gregory. They were the work of the devil she thought, and in her words ‘lost’.

Mary and her aunt stayed in the house. They never moved. It broke Mary’s heart at times just being inside the house. The old white farmhouse, old even by 1930’s standards, was built in 1900 and now that Mary’s parents were gone, Charlotte had free reign to do whatever she wanted to both her niece and the house. She began terrorizing Mary on a daily basis with her twisted religious beliefs, speaking of the end of days and babbling in tongues. She boarded up all the windows in fear that the sun would set the earth on fire. And the talks of the dust storms out west fueled her paranoia to no end. Every morning at breakfast both Mary and Charlotte would hear the reports coming from the radio sitting on top of the refrigerator of the deadly storms in Kansas and Oklahoma. She was positive that the dust storms out west were a dark sign of the coming end of days. She preached it on a daily basis, numbing Mary’s mind and ears with lunatic religious rhetoric. “Did you hear that Mary?” Charlotte asked, her voice full of fear. Mary tried to pretend like she didn’t hear her but she did and she responded meekly with, “Yes Aunt Charlotte, its coming, I know.”

“We’re livin’ in the devil land Mary and that devil wind they’re talkin’ about out west is comin’ for you and me. Are you prepared for the end?”

It was hard for Mary to live in the house that once had so much love. Everything reminded her of her parents especially her mother’s sewing room where she had taught Mary how to sew and crochet. The small room that was once filled with sunlight and her mother’s beautiful blankets was now the prayer room, and had just two wooden chairs and a large white bowl on the floor in between them and ruby red curtains over the windows blocking out all light. Aunt Charlotte had contrived an early morning before school ritual made of prayer and blood. She would force her young niece to ‘bleed’ the devil out of herself by making her cut her arms and wrists with none other than her mother’s old sewing needles. She was convinced that Mary had the devil in her and that it was crucial she bleed him gone before it was too late.

A lump formed in Mary’s throat every time she walked into the room hearing the voice of her mother in her mind. She loved being with her mother in there. It was their place to talk and laugh and share happy moments with one another the way a mother and daughter should. Now it was just a dark and hollow pit fit only for lunacy and terror, and of course blood. That big white bowl reminded her of that and the soon to be treachery she would have to endure yet again.

“Take a seat Mary,” Charlotte would say quietly, wearing her full body black dress with her pitch white hair in a bun; her thin fingers wrapped around the top of the chair and her bony knuckles sticking up like buried skulls.

The look on Mary’s face was that of sadness and fear but mostly dread. Brown circles filled her skin under her eyes looking like dust coated half-moons. She didn’t have the physical or mental strength to go through another morning horror ritual again. She just couldn’t, but she would. She would hold herself up on the chair, trying not to pass out. Though passing out on the floor seemed rather inviting compared to what she was about to do, (or what aunt Charlotte would make her do.) Mary pictured herself falling over and hitting her head on the chair, knocking herself unconscious so she wouldn’t have to slice her arms up again. Not today darling Mary. Go do your deed and bleed.

Then, Charlotte would fall to her knees on the hard wooden floor and squawk out, “You’ve got the devil in you Mary, bleed him gone!” Her eyes were like crystal balls of hellish doom, shining their black light prophecy in the dark room.

Mary would slowly roll up the sleeves of her dress and begin scraping the small needle down her already scarred arms. Her blood would drain into the large white bowl on the floor and Charlotte would scream “Bleed him gone!” over and over again. As Mary screamed in pain Charlotte would cackle madness to her. “Wind and fire souls a scorn, apocalypse angel sound your horn, evil inside show your brawn, bleed this devil bleed him gone.” Once the bloody ritual was done Charlotte would quietly ask Mary, “Is the devil gone?” And of course Mary would say no because there was no devil, only in Charlottes blackened mind. Enraged, Charlotte would grab the bowl and force its contents back into Mary’s mouth, making her drink her own blood. “Well then you put that blood back from which it came!” Mary’s arms waved radically, her hands scratched at air, and her black boots kicked at the hardwood floor as she coughed and gagged; her face masked in her own blood.

And if it was the morning that brought hell time nightmares it was the night that truly brought out the blackest demons of terror in the old white house when Charlotte would sit at the bottom of the steps after midnight and softly whisper horror to her niece, “Do you see the devil Mary? Do you? And then chuckle a mad eerie laugh in the night as Mary cupped her ears tight and squinted her eyes tight trying not to look into the large oval mirror bolted down to the floor directly in front of her bed. “Mary….Mary….Do you see that devil in the mirror?” Then, the hard sound of footsteps creeping up the staircase made Mary’s heart speed up and her palms turn wet with sweat. “You see that devil Mary?” Charlotte would whisper just outside Mary’s door from the hallway. And then she would slowly push the door open. It creaked long and steady. “Mary,” Charlotte whispered again, “You see that devil?”

Then Charlotte would charge in the room, her old fright mask of a face coming straight at Mary who had the covers up to her eyes. Charlotte’s ghost white hair was down and flowing as she rushed at Mary and put her face to hers under the dull yellow glow of an oil lamp. Charlotte screamed, “You got the devil in you Mary, can’t you see him?” She pulled Mary by her hair and drug her across the bed towards the mirror. The horror image of Charlotte’s haunting face rushing to the mirror made Mary’s skin turn cold. “Look at the devil, look at the devil!”

Now, two years after the death of her parents, Mary is still trapped in the hell house of bloody mornings and demon nights. Every morning she would sit at the table in the kitchen with her eyes feeling like sandbags. Damn mirror, she thought. Damn devil, she thought again. So much of her had died along with her parents and she felt it wouldn’t be long before she was completely dead on the inside. Her soul was just a hanging corpse inside a shell of a body waiting for the end.

“You finish that toast and get yourself in the prayer room,”
Charlotte said wickedly as she dried her wet, wrinkly hands.

Mary felt a weight of dread hit at the bottom of her stomach at the sound of her Aunt’s voice. Please God, not again, she thought. And blood soon followed.


One day at school, Mary was struggling to stay awake during a monotonous math lesson, damn devil, damn mirror. Her teacher’s voice was a distant ghost in her ears and she fell asleep with her head leaning into her hand. Mary dozed off and dreamt of a devilish brown dust engulfing the schoolhouse and through the dust aunt Charlotte peeked through the windows, her face looking old and wretched. Slanted crucifixes made of skeletons rose from the earth in the distance behind her. The windows of the schoolhouse turned to mirrors and Mary could hear her name echoing all around her, “Mary….Mary….Do you see the devil Mary? Blood dripped in straight lines down the mirrored windows and she heard her name again, “Mary….Mary wake up!” It was her teacher’s voice. The kids sitting all around Mary began to laugh. She looked around the small classroom in a scared dazed upon waking from her mid-morning nightmare. Later after school had let out her teacher stopped her before she left.

Her teacher with concern in her eyes said, “Mary, are you all right? You don’t seem well. Are you getting enough sleep?”

Mary looked down at the floor and mumbled that she was fine. “I’m fine really.”

Her teacher was aware of the tragedy that took place two years ago with Mary’s parents and she knew that Charlotte was now her main guardian. What she didn’t know was the hell that was taking place in the house and of Mary’s tormented, sleepless nights and blood soaked mornings.

Her eyebrows slanted downward with concern and she told Mary, “I know it must be very difficult with your parent’s gone. I’m just glad you have your aunt there to help you through it. She is a woman of the lord.”

That same afternoon as Mary walked home kicking her black boots along a dirt road, a boy from her class named Johnathon Wickers came up beside her. She didn’t look up. She just kept her head down while holding he books close to her chest.

“Hi, Mary.” Johnathon said.

“Hello.” Mary mumbled.

“Say, I wanted to see if you would like to go to Greyhams soda shop sometime. I heard he has vanilla flavoring now.” His voice was shaky when he spoke. He was nervous.

“I’m sorry Johnathon I can’t.” Mary said quietly without looking at him.

Disappointed, Johnathon asked her why and she told him white lies of there being too many chores for her to do at home and she needed to study for that upcoming math quiz, and of course she wanted to go with Johnathon to Greyhams soda shop and suck down a couple vanilla cokes but more so she wanted so desperately to throw herself into his arms and cry and tell him to take her away, far, far away from her house of blood and hell and her aunt. She also knew the repercussions if she did accept Johnathon’s invitation to a totally normal and fun afternoon. She pictured herself tied to her bed and aunt Charlotte standing beside her holding a small sewing needle with a sharp, sick grin on her old face. You think you’re gonna let the devil loose from between your legs and let that boy indulge himself. Not under my roof you heathen. No time for such things, for time is almost coming to an end Mary and you still got the devil in you. Now spread your worthless legs and bleed him gone!

“I…I really have must be getting home now. I’m sorry.” Mary ran off and away from Johnathon leaving him confused and in a whirl of Indiana dirt road dust.


Then on a balmy April morning Mary awoke to a still, pitch blackness showing outside her window. The clock on her wall showed that it was eight a.m. but outside it looked like the night had never left. She quickly got out of bed throwing her white sheets off of her. They flurried upward like ghosts in a tangle. She ran to her window and all she could see was black. The worst dust storm in the history of the United States had made its way to Indiana. Her heart sped up and she went into a panic at the thought of this actually being the dreaded end times as aunt Charlotte had predicted. It can’t be. It just can’t, she thought. It sounded like small pellets hitting her window. It’s like dust, she thought. Then the voice of a radio announcer rang through her mind when she remembered what they’ve been saying every morning on the radio when she sat at the table waiting to go bleed the devil out of her in that fucking prayer room. It’s here. It’s not the end. It’s the dust storm and it’s here right now.

Then a distant voice came from outside somewhere in the blackness. “Mary.”

She went stiff with terror. She couldn’t move because she knew her aunt was out there bathing in the black dust that came from the west.

“Mary,” The old woman called out again.

Mary turned and saw her reflection in the oval mirror sitting in front of her bed. She didn’t see the devil because there was no devil. It was only in aunt Charlotte’s mind. Mary saw the dreadfully terrified image of herself in the mirror. She began to cry. I cannot do this anymore. I have to leave this place. I can just runaway right now, out there in the darkness.

“Mary, it’s time. Come on out and do what needs to be done!”

Charlotte’s voice seemed closer now to Mary but it was still deadly black outside and she couldn’t see her. What needs to be done? Mary thought.

Without thinking she ran downstairs. She went to the back door and carefully opened it just enough to see outside. Peeking out into the dusty black morning, she could barely see the outline of their barn a few yards away. Run now Mary. Just run away, she thought. She focused her eyes harder. As she did there was a quick, bright flash of something a few feet away from her. And then the slim silhouette of a body emerged from the devil black dust swirling about the farm. It was aunt Charlotte. Mary froze. She felt trapped between the dust and the house. Nowhere to go.

In Charlottes left hand was a long wooden stick. It was the handle of the ax she was dragging behind her on the ground. It flashed its sharp chrome blade at Mary.

She cautiously stepped outside and Charlotte stood in front of her just a few feet away. She had her hair down and it flowed like a ghost against the black wind of the dust storm.

The two eyed each other for a long moment not saying anything. Then Mary spoke. “Is that the same ax you used to kill my mother and father with?”

Mary could see Charlotte’s eyes widened with surprise through the darkness.

“Oh, my dear child,” Charlotte said in a calm tone. “Your mama and papa had the devil in them just like you. I tried to save them. But they wouldn’t listen. I had to release the devil from them, don’t you see.” Her white hair blew softly over her shoulder.

Mary cried out, “You are a killer Charlotte. And you murdered my parents. There are no devils and no demons inside anyone. You are mad! The only devil here right now is you Charlotte. You are the devil and I can take no more!”

At that Mary ran out into the dust. Charlotte howled like a twisted witch in hell and raised her ax. The shiny chrome which she had shined to perfection for this special occasion was blotted out by the dust. Mary was running but she didn’t know where to. She tripped and went face first into the dirt. Charlotte was behind her swinging her ax wildly and speaking in tongues.

“The rapture is upon us child and you still got the devil in you Mary. The time has come to bleed him gone. I can help you. Let me help you before it’s too late.” She kept swinging her ax high and against the blackening dust storm.

Mary was disoriented for a moment as she lay on the ground. She could hear her aunt talking behind her and realized how clear her voice sounded. The dust storm was frighteningly silent even though it looked like hell on earth.

“Come now Mary. It is time.” Charlotte said.

Mary got to her knees and rubbed her head. She found the strength to stand up. As she turned around Charlotte was behind her with her ax held up high. It’s sharp blade laughing in Mary’s face. She screamed and started to run again and made it to their chicken coop and hid behind it. Charlotte continued swinging the ax and speaking in tongues like a mad woman. She seemed to have no sense of direction. She whirled around and around in the dust. Mary could see her from behind the little chicken shack and thought her aunt looked drunk the way she was swinging the large ax around. And then the black dust seemed to swallow Charlotte when a heavy gust of wind blew throughout the farm. Mary lost sight of Charlotte but she could still hear her praying and telling her that it was time to bleed that devil gone. Charlotte’s voice drifted with the wind and dust and became distant in Mary’s ears and then she heard a chilling, sharp sounding scream from out in the darkness. Mary was on her knees, huddled up close to the chicken coop peering out from behind it. She knew something had happened to Charlotte. She heard the scream again. It startled her making her heart jump in her chest. A bright flash came out of nowhere. It sounded electric. And then Charlotte’s scream echoed throughout the farm. Mary built up enough courage and stood up still holding onto the shack. She slowly walked out into the yard; the black dust surrounding her. Tiny pellet sized bits of dust swarmed into her face. It stung and she coughed. She covered her face and peeked through her fingers to see where she was going. Charlotte’s agonizing screams led Mary to her.

“Mary. Please, help me!” Charlotte begged.

As Mary came closer to the sound of her aunt’s voice, the dust began to clear slightly and Mary could see plain as day aunt Charlotte hanging from a barbwire fence. Mary formed an ‘O’ expression of horror on her face hidden behind her hands. Again, Charlotte let out a long and dreadful screech. She was trapped in the grips of the sharp barbwire fence. She had become disoriented in the dust and fell into it. Her body was leaning sideways on it as if she was trying to lay down and take a nap. Her black dress was ripped and torn from the small pointy pricks of metal. They dug in the side of her stomach. The ax she had used to kill her sister with lay on the ground in front of her and out of her reach. Mary withdrew her hands from her face and another electrical charge bolted into the fence making Charlotte howl in pain.

“Mary!” She screamed and held her arm out to her niece.

Mary stood there silent looking at her aunt caught up in the fence watching the electrical shocks from the extremely dry air charge themselves into the fence and then Charlotte’s old, helpless body. They weren’t exactly lightning bolts as if from a thunderstorm but rather freakishly large zaps of electricity like the kind of charge you get from touching a metal door handle after rubbing your feet on the carpet floor. It zapped again and Charlotte cried out in pain and Mary felt nothing.

“Mary please, help me.” Charlotte pleaded sounding out of breath. A medium size splotch of blood covered her chin. Her white hair flew out sideways all tangled in the barbwire. It was a frightening image.

Mary oblivious to her aunt’s agonizing pleas for help was eyeing the ax lying on the ground. She stepped forward with caution. The grimace on Charlottes face was a cross between a smile and agony. “Thank you, thank you Mary,” she said.

Mary bent down and picked up the ax.

“What are you doing Mary? Please, help me get out of this.”

Mary gripped the wooden handle of the ax and brought the large blade to her aunt’s face. She gently caressed her cheek with the ax.

“What in the lord’s name are you doing Mary!”

Mary’s eyes were lifeless and held not an ounce of mercy in them. She moved the ax up and down Charlottes face without cutting her. I could just kill her right now. Chop her head off and run like hell, Mary thought.

“Do it child.” Charlotte said quietly. “Go on. Take my life and then take yours and you can be free of that devil. We can die together.”

The blade found its way to Charlotte’s neck.

“That’s it. Go on and cut me.”

I could do it for my mother and father, Mary thought again. But I would be just like you Charlotte.

Charlotte started to pray quietly to herself. She was humming some religious hymn. And then another thrash of electricity attacked the barbwire fence and it knocked the ax out of Mary’s hands. It fell back to the ground. Charlotte screamed again from the horrendous shock. Mary started to back away slowly from her aunt.

“Mary, please don’t leave me. Where are you going? Please Mary!”

Something deep inside Mary was telling her to just walk away and let it be. Let her hang there and die a horrible death all caught up in the grip of hellish barbwire torture. Mary covered her face again and slowly walked backwards away from Charlotte.

“Mary! Mary please!” Charlotte screamed. “Don’t do this Mary! The devil is still in you. Mary! If you leave me here to die I’ll be there tonight at your bedside to make you see that devil in the mirror! And the next night and the night after that! Mary….Mary!”

Mary could see the image of Charlotte’s old face and blood coated chin slowly moving away from her through the cracks of her fingers. The dark dust blew all around Charlotte shrouding her dying body and outstretched arms flailing towards Mary.

Soon all she could see was a wall of dust blotting out the scary image of Charlotte hung sideways in the barbwire fence.

The heels of her black boots hit the bottom step leading up to their porch. She stood there with her hands still covering her face, terrified to move them as if she was a child covering her face at bedtime afraid of seeing the lurking demons under her bed or in the mirror. Charlotte’s screams had ended and Mary stood alone in front of the porch with the lonely wind blowing midwest dust all around her. She wondered if she would see demons in that ugly brown dust. And she wondered if Charlotte would be at her bedside tonight, there to help her see that devil in the mirror.

She removed her hands from her face. They were sweaty and trembling. Her chest moved up and down from her slow breaths. Then she saw Charlotte coming straight at her with her arms out reaching towards her as if to wrap her bony hands around her neck and squeeze that goddamn devil right out of her. Her death white hair flowing behind her in a sharp V and her face a terror mask of hell came rushing towards Mary.

Charlotte opened her mouth like an ancient coffin and screamed at her niece.


Mary screamed out loud. It echoed throughout the dust and the empty farm. She fell backwards and tripped over the step. Her bottom hit hard on the porch and she scrambled away in a backwards crab walk all while envisioning the hallucination of her aunt coming back to life to kill her and send her to hell. She got up quickly and ran inside, tears of fear rolling down her eyes. Her black boots hit the staircase and she ran screaming up the stairs where she entered her room and hid on the floor by her bed. She moaned out a horrified cry as she held her hands over her ears and squinted her eyes shut tight just like she would do at midnight when Charlotte would come creeping up those stairs saying, “You see that devil in the mirror Mary?” She sat hunkered down and not moving for at least fifteen minutes. She’s dead. I know she’s dead. I saw her and she’s not coming back. She’s not. The brown dust outside began to clear away leaving the once white house a sepia tone color. She heard a noise downstairs. Her heart went up her throat. She’s down there. I can hear her. She’s coming.

“Mary!” A voice called out. It was a familiar voice, a male voice. “Mary, are you all right? It’s me Johnathon. Where are you?”

She slowly pulled her hands away from her now matted hair. Her face was sticky with sweat. At the sound of Johnathon’s voice she felt an almost liquefying feeling of her fear melting away from her. She covered her mouth and began to cry.

“Mary!” He called out again and Mary could hear him at the bottom of the staircase. She heard his feet climbing the steps. It’s not Charlotte. Those shoes sound different.

“Mary,” He yelled out at her bedroom door.

He went inside and found her balled up on the floor by her bed. He ran to her and knelt down putting his arms around her making her feel safe.

“Mary, are you ok? I tried to get over here before that dust hit but my pa wouldn’t let me leave.”

He gently caressed her hair as she cried into his chest. He comforted her some more reassuring her that she was safe now. And she did know that she was safe when she saw her reflection in the oval mirror in front of her bed.

There will be no more blood and no more screams, she thought.

And there will be no more crying in this devil land.





































High above the Armsworth farm, gravestone colored clouds slowly rolled across the sky as if surveying the land below it. It was a hot summer day in 1904 and sixteen year old Audrey Armsworth was in her father’s barn balancing herself atop a wooden beam supported fence. Later that day she would be chopped to pieces in her father’s cornfield because her wandering eyes had seen too much. As she playfully skipped and balanced herself over that wooden beamed fence, she suddenly heard an unusual sound coming from somewhere in the barn. She jumped off the beam and began investigating the foreign sound. To Audrey, it sounded like a woman crying. She crept around the barn following the sound. She was near the back of the barn when she peeked around the corner of a stable and saw her stepmother Cassandra on top of the farmhand. The view of her naked backside bouncing up and down and her red hair swinging from shoulder to shoulder made Audrey’s eyes grow wide and glisten with tears. Among the stink of cow flops and hay, Audrey stood frozen in shock at the sight.

Audrey’s father remarried three years after his first wife Mable died of cancer in 1898. Audrey was only ten years old when her mother passed. She spent a lot of time to herself and felt very alone during the years after her mother’s death. Mostly she would be spend her days in her father’s barn doing acrobatic flips off the wooden beamed fence into a pillow of hay on the ground. She didn’t like the idea of her father beginning to see other women only a year after her mother’s funeral. And she didn’t take to his new wife, even though Cassandra did her best at first to get to know the little child with straight brown hair and big brown eyes. There was something about the woman that Audrey did not like. It was a feeling she got when she was around her. In Audrey’s mind it felt as if a presence of evil was in the room when she was with her. Soon, Cassandra gave up entirely on trying to befriend Audrey and she began to ignore the girl. But then things changed in the Armsworth house as moods and feelings seemed to elevate to a hateful level concerning the females of the house. John Armsworth’s new wife began to hate and despise Audrey and the little girl didn’t know why. When Audrey entered the room she would hold her head down if Cassandra was present or she would try to avoid being seen at all. It was as if the woman was fiercely jealous of the girl and Audrey could feel that hateful vibe. Then in the summer of 1903, Audrey’s father hired a farmhand to help out with tending to the fields and the farm animals. He offered the farmhand free residency in his home in return for his much needed help on the farm. The farmhand kindly accepted and when he did accept John Armsworth’s offer, Cassandra felt a tingle of excitement down below at the decision. They got to work immediately and Cassandra gazed at the young farmhand from her bedroom window, watching him chop wood in the hellish heat of summer with his shirt off. One day as Audrey was alone in the barn doing handstands on the wooden beam fence and her father away in town on an errand, Cassandra offered the once again shirtless farmhand a cold glass of ice tea. He kindly accepted and as Audrey was making her way back to the house she caught a glimpse of the two standing close to each other but not quite touching and they saw her staring at them. The farmhand gave her an angry, wolfish grin and Audrey hurried towards the house with a pain in her stomach because she knew what was happening. She didn’t have the heart to tell her father even though she wanted to. It would break his heart.

As the months dragged on Audrey felt as if she was walking on broken glass every time she saw the farmhand and her stepmother together. The deadly looks they would give her when she passed by gave her nightmares because she knew their secret. And now as she stood in the barn of infidelity, peeking around the corner, seeing an image that was shocking to her yet made her feel sick with guilt because of the quick flare of excitement she felt rush through her body at her stepmothers naked body bouncing quickly up and down, her fears and suspicions had been confirmed. The farmhand cocked his head up and his eyes met Audrey’s. The whoring stepmother stopped bouncing and swung her head around quickly. Her eyes turned red with hate when she saw Audrey. The farmhand grabbed Cassandra by her waist and pulled her off of him.

“Get the little witch!” She screamed with her red hair all tangled in a mess around her face.

Audrey gasped and scurried away in a panic when the farmhand stood up naked and took ahold of an axe lying on the floor. Without thinking she ran towards the cornfield behind their house. Her father had gone into town to run some errands and wouldn’t be back for a while. That’s why she was playing in his barn, trying to pass the time until he got home and could then fix him lunch and they could sit and laugh and enjoy this warm summer day, but instead she was being chased by a wild, naked brute of a man with an axe and a wolfish, bloody grin on his face. She burst into the tall stalks of green without having any sense of direction of where she was going. She just ran as quickly as she could with her heart racing like mad but then she tripped.

Not too far in the distance she heard, “C’mon girl. I’m gonna find ya no matter what. No wheres to hide now, c’mon ya little sissy snitch. I know yous gonna tell your daddy bout’ what you’ve seen today. Ain’t none your business girl. Now here I come!”

Audrey’s lips trembled violently with fear as warm tears fell down her face. She whimpered a high, girlish cry of terror when she heard the farmhand’s voice getting closer to her in the corn.

Slowly he said, “Gonna get ya little’n. Gonna slice the snitch bitch!”

She put her balled up fist to her mouth trying to smother her cries of fear but he was getting closer, oh so damn close and then just as she summoned the courage to stand up and run again she heard from behind her, “Gotcha!”

She shrieked a quick scream and turned over quickly. At first sight the shape of the farmhand was only a black shadowy outline of a human standing above her, but then her eyes began to focus and she could see the hate and rage rolling off his naked body and that terrifying wolf grin of his.

She knew very well that she couldn’t get away from him. She was trapped between the corn and his big brown boot stepping firmly on her chest, confining her to the floor of the cornfield. Behind the farmhand she could see the sun peeking in between swaying stalks of corn. It was a horrifying sight, the farmhand standing naked above her holding his axe tightly.

“We got ourselves a little problem here don’t we, little girl. Ya see I can’t have you runnin to your Daddy, so I’m here to fix our little problem.”

Audrey cried out but there was no one to hear her. Her mouth frowned downward as she cried softly because she knew she was doomed. He moved the axe to her mouth, slowly moving the blade up against her cheek and then her mouth.

“You just lay real still now. This won’t hurt a bit,” the farmhand said menacingly and then roared out an evil and twisted laugh. He kicked her left arm away from her side and stepped on her hand. He raised his axe and she could see her reflection in its chrome finish. It came down hard and fast on her arm at the shoulder. Her mouth opened wide on the impact but she felt nothing; only heard the sound of bone and skin ripping apart. Her mouth stayed frozen in that silent horror mask of shock as he chopped of her other arm. It was as if the shock was shielding her from the pain. He then raised his now bloody axe high towards the sky and took of her left leg. Her body jolted from the force of the sharp blade coming down hard. Her full body white dress was splattered with warm, fresh blood but still her opened mouth ‘O’ of terror remained. He took off her other leg using the same force he used on the other one. He stood back and gazed down on her lying with her limbs severed and steaming under the hot sun. Blood seeped out from her opened mouth, falling down her face and chin. The pain was coming. She could feel it slowly starting to overcome her and then the farmhand said, “One more for the road!” The axe went up high and it landed right in her young middle part and that’s when her frozen expression of terror came alive and she began a slow crescendo hell scream of ungodly pain. A flock of crows burst into the air at the sound of her screams. A fountain of blood splashed onto his brown boot from her slashed vagina. “That’ll teach ya!” He said and then wiped his mouth with the side of his greasy arm. He pulled the axe out from her vagina and left her there to die screaming in agony for the next fifteen minutes until she finally bled to death right there in the cornfield.

He emerged from the corn, evil and wolf like with his bloody axe in hand. He wiped his mouth with his arm again and looked around devilishly before whisking away in the hot summer wind.


John Armsworth sat on the edge of a haystack in his barn and sobbed uncontrollably just hours after his daughter’s funeral. She was barely recognizable that morning as she lay in her casket. The coroner had a hell of a time stitching her back together. Stubborn stitches! John kept replaying the horrific moment over in his mind when he found his only daughter hacked to pieces just a few feet into the cornfield behind their house. He ran out of the corn and fell to his knees, screaming at the wind and the blazing sun above him. “Who would do this? What monster would take my Audrey from me?”

Local police had determined that Audrey’s killer was the leader of a gang that had been wandering about the state of Indiana recently, robbing banks and murdering anyone who got in their way. Little did John know that the devil was right in his back yard, indulging in his wife’s sex and plotting the violent death of his only daughter. He never once thought of Jacob the farmhand as the one to take his daughters life. John liked the young man who seemed very quiet and respectful most of the time when they would work outside.

A gust of wind blew into the barn where John sat. He heard a faint and distant voice. It said, “Dear father, please don’t cry. We’ll meet again soon.”

“Audrey?” John said as he stood up quickly and looked around the barn. There was no one there. He quickly ran out of the barn looking all around him feeling spooked by the sound of his daughters voice.

Weeks later while tending to the duties of his farm, the hot flames of infidelity burned John’s eyes in the barn late one night. As he turned the corner of one of the stables just as Audrey did on the day of her death, he saw his wife’s buttocks arched high in the air, and the farmhand underneath her enjoying her salivating lips. Her wide, creamy white hips puffed out and her slit glistened from the soft glow of a burning candle. Hot and angry tears singed John’s eyes as he watched with a sick stomach. But then a familiar voice of serenity rushed through his ears. “Dear Father, you must contain your anger, for tomorrow night we shall have our bloody revenge.” Terrified once again by the voice he was hearing, he ran out of the barn without being heard or noticed by his whoring, cheating wife.

Dear god am I losing my mind? Why I am I being tortured with the sweet sound of my daughter’s voice?”

He fell to his knees and began to sob under the moon suspended in the summer night sky. “What is this revenge you speak of my dear Audrey?” He felt foolish for asking this question aloud for there was no one around other than inside the barn.

It was the farmhand father. He was the one who took my life.”

And then John saw in the distance a white figure coming towards him in the night. It glowed a soft white as it floated towards him. It was Audrey. She was free of her dismembered arms and legs. They were all intact and her white dress was bloodless. John held his mouth in grief and shock at the sight. She kneeled before him and caressed his face with her ghost hand. He thought she looked beautiful as ever. She spoke to him.

Oh dear father in order for you to believe you have to see.”

In his grief stricken, sobbing voice he said, “What is it I must see to believe?”

As Audrey stood up, she floated just inches off the ground in front of her father. She spread her arms wide and the images of her death came alive showing themselves on her white dress like an old movie projector. A white haze formed around her and her father, protecting him as he watched in unbelievable horror. First he saw Audrey playing in the barn and then finding her stepmother and the farmhand together in the barn. He saw the farmhand chasing her and then raising his axe high, ending her young life. John screamed in pain and pulled at his hair and face from the sickening scenes of butchery playing silently in front of him. The ghost like haze surrounding him kept his howls of anguish silent. The truth was revealed and now he understood his daughter’s words of bloody revenge.

I am so sorry to have broken your heart dear father but it was necessary for you to know the truth of my death and the intentions of your wife and her lover.”

John’s sobs finally ceased and as he looked at his beautiful daughter, he shook his head slowly, nodding in strong agreement of containing his anger and her forecast of a bloody revenge.


The next evening John entered the barn after midnight and found Jacob fucking Cassandra from behind making her shapely, wide buttocks ripple under the orange glow of an oil lamp. Audrey floated inches above the floor behind her father. As Cassandra’s vocal chords reached a high female pitch from her oncoming orgasm, John said to Audrey, “Is it time honey?” He held a pitchfork firmly in his hand. “Yes Father,” Audrey said in a lifeless tone and then suddenly morphed into her bloody funeral gown. It was soaked and dripping with blood and her face was a ghost white horror mask of black sunken eyes and a stitched mouth that frowned downward. The cheating couple stopped cold and Cassandra’s moment of intense sexual pleasure was cut short. Jacob cupped her milky white bottom and pushed her away from him hard, making her fall flat to the barn floor. She sat up with pieces of straw stuck to her sweaty stomach and breasts. They both looked on in shock and disbelief at the young bloody girl.

Audrey began to do a series of acrobatic twists and turns as if performing a show in the barn. She executed two flips in midair and then took a bow. John began clapping and shouting, praising his daughter for her talent.

Then, Audrey’s ghost force attacked Cassandra, slinging her across the straw blanketed barn floor. She landed flat on her back with her arms and legs spread out next to a wall lined with pitchforks. An Indiana farmer could never have enough pitchforks. Cassandra’s screams filled the barn as Audrey cast her pitch black eyes upon the pitchforks. One by one she telepathically moved four rusty pitchforks from the wall. They spun like twisters above her stepmother’s immobile body before shooting down violently like bullets, piercing her wrists and ankles.

The farmhand looked on in silent horror as Audrey’s bloody corpse of an afterlife resumed the angelic twists and turns of her bloodshow. She did five complete somersaults in midair and then stopped in an upside down position. She hung there suspended in the air for a few moments and then began slowly floating up to the ceiling of the barn. Her blood coated hair hung in a Vshape. The chilling look of her arms outstretched as she floated upward resembled a bloody upside down crucifix, and that morbid stitched frown had turned upside down making a horror smile that cut through the farmhand’s soul. Once she reached the ceiling of the barn she turned over and hung there suspended for a moment with her death black eyes staring down on the farmhand. Drops of blood fell from her dress to the ground below her. Then, black leather wings spread wide from her back with sharp precision and she let out a hell scream sounding like barbwire on chalkboard. She went in for the kill. Her bloody horror smile bolted downward towards the farmhand. Seizing him by the neck, she returned to the ceiling with her prey firmly gripped in her mouth. It was a slow, agonizing ascension.

Audrey attacked her killer’s body. He became an arch of flesh as she bent his body backwards cracking his spine. His body ripped open and blood splattered on his chest and face. It dripped into his open shrieking mouth high above the barn floor.

His ribcage ripped through his torso. A slop of warm intestines began oozing out of his cracked in half body. Pink tubes dripping with blood dangled past his waist. Blood showered down on Cassandra’s impaled body just as a heavy wet mass of gore fell downward, splattering her with a warm gush of rubbery innards. Food and feces stuffed intestines slathered around her lips, plopping in and out of her mouth.

Audrey released her bloody death grip on Jacob and his lifeless body dropped to the floor, crashing into the gut and gore pile on Cassandra’s chest. Chills rushed through Cassandra when Audrey flew down fast from the barn ceiling; her stitched horror smile and bloody V shaped hair approaching her stepmother. Audrey’s mouth opened wide and she beckoned a scream deep from within hell into Cassandra’s terrified face. Then she drove her fist violently up into Cassandra’s vagina. Her entire arm extended through her stepmothers insides and then out her mouth. A fist wet with blood and stomach lining erected itself from Cassandra’s mouth. Five wiggling and bloody fingers flashed in front of her wide, horrified eyes. Then she died. Her head falling over to the side like a sack of potatoes.

John boasted a proud smile with a tear in his eye while watching his daughter unleash her bloody torment in the barn that night. Torturous screams along with bones cracking and blood sloshing was like music to his ears. He could feel the knife of revenge slicing through his veins and it felt good. He took his daughter by the hand and they danced all throughout the blood soaked barn.

























The Fire Witch





The devil was alive the night Gwen Halmuth died.

Reverend Bill Halmuth murdered his daughter in 1894 on a warm spring evening. He set her on fire behind their church while she was chained to a wooden table. The reverend and his followers watched with sadistic eyes and spoke in tongues as she screamed and burned to death. Her teeth bit down hard in agony on a hot chain that was pulled tight over her mouth and her wide eyes of terror gazed at the star lit sky. She felt the heat of death rising towards her and her long black hair caught on fire. Gwen’s little brother Jonah watched as his sister burned to death. He held a shovel tightly in his hand. He had used it only moments ago when he swung it hard, cracking her in the back of her skull when she was on her knees begging her father for forgiveness in front of his devoted congregation; forgiveness for her moment of weakness in the woods earlier that day when she was caught kissing the boy she liked from church. The boy received thirty swats to the back with a leather whip from the reverend himself; obviously a much more lenient punishment than that of Gwen, the now whoring jezebel of the village in which she lived. She was twenty six and had long black hair which she would let down at night in front of her mirror before bed time. Her skin was porcelain white and smooth as silk. Her body was as curvaceous as the surrounding hillsides of their village. The townspeople said it was a curse for a girl to have such beauty, but Gwen wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a woman and due to her father’s strong and radical religious beliefs and discipline, she had never even kissed a boy. That was until this afternoon in the woods when her curiosity got the best of her.

As Jonah watched the flames get higher and higher and devour his screaming sister, he thought of their conversation they had two days ago behind their small shack of a home, where Gwen was scrubbing her father’s white church shirts on a washboard in the heat on the day. She was in her usual full body black dress and black boots.

Jonah, leave this place with me tonight. We can go together and leave all this madness behind. Father is mad I tell you, with all his venomous preaching’s of adultery, and the devil infecting us with sin. Please Jonah, come with me.” Gwen held her hand out to her brother in hopes of hearing that he would run away with her and begin a new life together free of their fathers stronghold. But then the reverend opened the back door, interrupting the two. “Gwenyth, don’t keep the lord waiting. Hurry up with my shirts. Jonah, you best get tending to those chickens in the barn before revival.”

A smoldering black smoke looking as black as the sky, rose from Gwen’s charred burnt body. She was dead. Slowly the onlookers walked away from the burning corpse with their backs turned as did Reverend Halmuth and his son Jonah. The boy looked over his shoulder at his dead sister lying on the table. He dragged his shovel behind him on the ground and his father put his arm around him and said, “The sinning witch is dead son.”

Nocturnal vultures were already circling above, lusting over the carcass they so viciously hungered for.

Spring had disintegrated and summer had come to life. Weeks went by and Jonah continued his daily chores for his father and never did he think of Gwen that much, although she did visit him in his dreams at night. It was late summer and Jonah was daydreaming during revival one Sunday evening as his father preached the end of times and that’s when the first fire broke out, disrupting the reverend’s sermon. His congregation fled the old wooden church at once, following behind him. Once outside, rich screams filled the night at the sight of the blazing house across the gravel road from the church. It was David Manor’s house. His wife fell to her knees crying with her hands up towards the sky, asking god why he would do such a thing.

“It’s not our god woman! Look, there in the sky,” David pointed. An ominous black shape hung high above the burning house. It was Gwen. Her arms were outstretched as she floated above the blazing house. Her black hair blew over her shoulder. Someone shouted “Dear god reverend, look. It’s Gwen. It’s your daughter and she’s come back!”

“The witch has come back,” the reverend said looking up at the dark sky. She whisked away somewhere far off into the night. The smell of burning flesh fell upon the followers down below. Jonah was frozen and didn’t move an inch.

The fires continued into the fall and would always occur during the reverend’s sermon every Sunday. Each week a new house was set ablaze and Gwen, now called the fire witch by the congregation, would show herself flying high above the fires she would set in her black dress and black boots with her black hair blowing from the heat of the blaze down below.

Then to everyone’s horror, true hell came to the village November, Friday the 13th in the form of a black dress slowly drifting down from the sky in a shroud of black smoke, landing in front of the towns old wooden church. Gwen Halmuth stood in front of the church with her head down and her hair hiding her face. Her arms were to her sides with her hands turned sharply backward away from her. White smoke lifted from her fingertips. The townspeople stopped whatever it was they were doing, be it churning butter or brushing the mane of a horse. They watched her with eyes of horror. The silence was death like. Jonah trembled as he watched his sister. She began moving forward towards the steps of the church. Her black boots skidded across the gravel road, igniting small fires at her heels that would come alive and then dissipate with every step. She crept slowly up the church steps as the townspeople looked on, never taking their eyes from her. She stood at the doors of the church.

“I’ve come home father,” she whispered and went inside.

The onlookers stood motionless like mannequins frozen in a nightmare. They were well aware that their leader was inside the church.

Jonah was certain that time had come to a standstill when the five minutes that had gone by since his sister entered the church felt to him like an eternity. His ears rang. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Everything in his vision had slowed to a crawl. The ringing in his ears was turning into a slow crescendo of screams as the townspeople scurried all around him in every which way, panicking as Gwen exited the church dragging behind her a limbless, decapitated and severely burnt reverend Bill Halmuth. A large and bloody crucifix was exiting from his rectum. She held it tight in her hand as she dragged his mutilated body across the gravel road among the screaming horde of followers. Gwen stopped in front of her brother. She put her hand softly on his cheek and looked at him sorrowfully. Her porcelain skin was as smooth as the night she burned. Deathly screams of panic whirled all around Jonah as his sister began to speak to him.

“Oh my dear brother, why didn’t we leave?”

Jonah suddenly heard his sister’s voice in his mind. “Jonah, leave this place with me tonight. We can go together and leave all this madness behind. Father is mad I tell you, with all his venomous preaching’s of adultery, and the devil infecting us with sin. Please Jonah, come with me.”

The church behind her suddenly went up in a blaze of hellish fire, its hot orange flames spitting at the sky. Gwen shot upwards to the sky, leaving behind a spinning black dust devil of smoke in front of Jonah.

It was early the next morning and the white mist of dawn covered the hill Jonah was sitting on. Below down in the valley lay the remains of his village which was now a smoldering pit of burnt wood and human flesh. He was daydreaming just like he always did at his father’s sermon every Sunday, thinking of him and Gwen somewhere far away in a different place, together again. He could hear her laughter and then her screams in the wind as it blew up from the valley. Screams that would last a lifetime.











The Possession of Abby Mcgullen





Curious sepia toned colored clouds hung over Joseph Mcgullen’s farmhouse as if masterminding the terror that was going on inside, this 6th day of May, 1934 Helt, Indiana. The mind’s eye of a wicked wind gathered in the shape of a snake made of dust and crawled into the house and up the stairs; going smoothly, creeping up each step like the devil’s fingertips ascending up a death black piano in hell, starting at the low keys. The dust snake passed portraits hung on the wall of good days gone by: a father, a daughter and a mother who had passed on a year earlier leaving her daughter to cry. A thick heavy heartbeat pounded as the snake reached the top of the stairs. There at the end of the hallway was a white door that led to a frightening and scary place. And inside that room is a little girl of thirteen in the mighty hellish grip of Satan. Her body is just a dead theater unto which the devil performs its black possession on her soul the stage. But that strange horror inside her may not be what it seems.

She was tied to the bed and from her legs she bled, coloring the white sheets in red horror. The priest had no fear of the beast as he wetted the child with holy water and said, “I command you back to hell’s corridor.”

Joseph Mcgullen, Abby’s Father, was sitting downstairs at the kitchen table. His sister in law was by his side. The kitchen was darkened by an eerie, mid-morning witching green hue of an unstable weather system moving in from out west. Helt, Indiana would soon be saturated from a spring thunderstorm. A distant thunder echoed into the vicinity of Josephs land and over his cornfield.

Mr.Mcgullens fists were balled up, covering his eyes. A half empty bottle of red wine sat in the middle of the table. He lowered his hand from his face revealing his red, wet eyes and the sad look of a broken man at a loss for words. He pounded the table with one fist in anger but more frustration. The red wine rippled inside the bottle.

“My dear Abby. What is happening to my little girl?”

“God will protect her Joseph.” His sister in law put her hands on his trying to calm and comfort him.

Joseph spoke with a heavy Irish accent as he was an immigrant from thirteen years ago. He came to America with high hopes and his then one year old daughter Abby and wife Anne by his side. He settled on Indiana and its flourishing land of corn. He thought there were too many already out west taking up all the land that was rich with wheat. Being Irish catholic they attended the Helt Catholic Church once they settled down. They became friends with Father Devuall who eventually went on to baptize their two year old Abby. Now the priest was upstairs in the room fighting with the thing attached to her soul.

The eye of the dust snake curved itself around the room, lifting itself up to the ceiling, watching from above.

Father Devuall swung holy water like a knife onto Abby. A burning scream erupted from her mouth. He commanded the demon out and to be gone from her forever.

“By the power of Christ I compel thee, this un-good spirit and black aura to leave this child once and for….”

The priest stopped in mid speech halting the exorcism. His arms dropped to his sides. He let go of the crucifix and holy water. The heavenly objects fell to the floor. He held his head down but then looked up, staring at Abby with a grin on his face.

“Let’s just stop this shall we.” His old man voice was deep and almost English sounding. He stepped closer to the bed in which Abby was confined. The floor creaked with each step. Upon reaching her bedside, he stood above her looking down on her and her face of possession.

“Oh, my dear child, it’s been such a long time since I first layed eyes on you. You were so very young, two years old I believe. And now look at you, all grown up. And oh how I’ve dreamed of having you someday. Dreams do come true they say.”

He sat down next to her on the bed. He pulled up her white gown revealing her blood soaked underwear.

“Ahh” His eye brows raised in surprise but more with excitement.

“Baby is bleeding. But you’re not a baby anymore. You are becoming a woman and it is so sad mother isn’t here to assist you and teach you the things of your new found womanhood. What was it? Ah yes, a car crash I believe it was. Such a good woman and beautiful to, just like you with your irish red hair. Up, up now.”

He reached under her and pulled her underwear down. He made a slight sound of disgust at the sight and smell of her freshly menstruated undergarment.

“Now whatever is inside of you tearing away at your little soul, well we’re just going to let it keep on tearing away at it for just bit longer, ok.” He kissed her sweaty forehead and mounted himself on top of her. He spoke softly just above her face.

“I’ve use to watch you sitting on your mommy’s lap during mass. Afterwards in the confessional booth I….well….” He grinned as if he was the luckiest man on earth. And then the spirit of St. Michael exited from her mouth leaving her in a lifeless, nonmoving stupor with her head cocked to the side.

‘What is this?” Father said with sudden confused surprise in his voice. Immediately after St. Michael’s exit, the dust snake spirit of Abby’s Mother Anne flew hastily into her daughter entering through her mouth.

..Something is wrong, terribly wrong St. Michael. I can feel it. My daughter is in danger. I must go to her.

It is common for a new soul to still feel things in the life they once lived upon entering the gates of heaven. I assure you Anne it will pass…..

Months after being inducted into the place where the good souls go after death, Anne began having feeling of unrest and horror concerning her daughter back on earth. Against the advisement of St. Michael, Anne flew her spirit back to earth in hopes of rendering these awful feelings as just plain sadness of missing her daughter and husband. But Anne knew something was wrong. Upon re-entering her spirit with the living, she blew into the church in the form of a cold winter wind where she and her husband attended. As she watched the pews of praying members of the congregation from high above, she saw Abby and her husband kneeling and praying as well. She wanted to reach out and touch them and tell them how much she missed them and loves them, but then those dreadful feeling started in again. They attacked her viciously and they were not coming from little Abby down below at her pew but rather from father Devuall at the altar. Just as quickly as the feeling came on, they dissipated leaving Anne’s spirit confused and wondering why the aura of terror was coming from father Devuall. She needed to know why. Later that night she flew in the darkness over the cornfields of Helt and into the old town and then finally into the church where father Devuall lay sleeping soundly in his bed. He was unaware of Anne’s spirit hovering just inches above him as he slept, taking in all the wretched and vile atrocities he dreamed of doing to her daughter Abby.

..Dear St. Michael, I saw everything; all the horrible things he dreams of doing to my Abby. You must help me.

Do you know that by you disobeying my orders of re-entering the living is just cause for banishment from heaven?

I know I have done wrong. But please St. Michael. I cannot let my dear Abby unknowingly live in danger. He has to be stopped. I….we have to stop him.

St. Michael’s wings flapped high in frustration.

Anne, god simply cannot allow us to act as vigilantes, taking revenge on those that hurt us when we were living. You simply cannot go back to earth and start slaughtering people. It’s not allowed.

He could feel every drop of anxiety, fear, hate and disgust that Anne had to offer. His wings sloped in a downwardly fashion with sadness.

Anne, it cannot be done. I’m sorry.

They were silent for a moment but then St. Michael raised his eyes to Anne, giving her a serious eyes.

There might be one thing we could do. But it can only be done once.

Please, what is it?

Have you ever heard of mock possession?……

Abby’s mother flew into her daughter’s mouth just as she and St. Michael had planned. His work was done. He flew away, off in a ghost white trail back to heaven. Anne momentarily lay dormant inside her daughter.

“What is this?” Father Devuall said with bright, shocked surprise. One moment little Abby was a hissing, moaning and drooling puppet of St.Michael under his mock possession, now it looked as if she had suddenly died with her head slanted down on her pillow. Her eyes were closed and her lungs barely pushed air inside her.

“Abby,” the priest said cautiously.

She was still hadn’t moved and the priest was still on top of her. He tapped her on the cheeks with the palm of his hand, trying to wake her. Still no movement. What fiendish surprises lie inside.


He was cut off when a gruesome, pale white hand with boney sharp nails emerged from Abby’s mouth. They wiggled about making father Devuall jump up in wild fright. He fell off the bed and landed on the floor. Stunned, he stood up slowly. The fingers that popped out of her mouth turned into an arm and then slowly the rest of Abby’s mother pushed its way out of her mouth. As she pulled herself out, father Devuall’s eye’s grew wide as if confronting an ancient demon from a bloody black sea. Anne’s demonic body slid with ease out of her daughter. A glistening layer of slime coated her muscular, pale white girth of a body. Her face was that of her once living self except for two rows of sharp teeth in her mouth. She crouched over her unharmed yet comatose daughter. She will not be harmed. She will live, St. Michael had told Anne. The priest stood like a straight board driven into the ground with his mouth wide open in disbelief. Not a sound could he make with his strangled vocal chords. What father Devuall saw in front of him indeed was a demon. Not necessarily a demon of an evil nature but the outer appearance of a demon nonetheless. Spirits cannot take the lives of the living. But there is another way Anne. I can transform you into a living thing, but only once.

In a chocked and struggling tone father Devuall began to pray. “Hail mary full of grace the lord is with…”

Anne stood up revealing her slimy, hulking female demon body to the scrawny priest. Upon viewing her towering atrocity, he realized this female demon with her statuesque, sculptured looking breasts, arms and legs and her blazing, fire red hair was without a doubt Abby’s Mother. He shrieked at the sight, sounding old and pathetic. She spread her wings. Thick long lines of clear slime dripped to the floor. She jumped off the bed and stomped on the floor. It jolted Joseph out of his seat downstairs in the kitchen. He flew out of his chair and to the staircase. His sister in law demanded that they adhere to father Devuall’s request. “Just stay put until it’s over. I’ll be upstairs fucking your thirteen year old possessed and menstruating daughter. Don’t worry she’ll be in good hands. Christ have mercy.” Joseph dismissed Anne’s sister’s plea and rushed to the stairs.

In the room, Anne kneeled down to her daughter’s bedside. Abby had broken out into a cold sweat, but was still breathing and still unharmed. Anne brushed her hand over Abby’s red hair. She looked at her with loving, motherly eyes. “Oh, my sweet Abby, mommy is going to protect you. This horrid man will never hurt you. I will make sure of that. I dream of you every day my little one.”

She then shifted her attention to the cowardly priest. Hate and rage burned in her red, female demon eyes.

“How dare you even begin to think of touching my only daughter!” She hissed at him.

She stood and lurched towards him, one angry demon footstep after another. Her wings lifted with might, full of strong, vengeful power. Anne hissed again and roared at the ceiling. Her fire red hair flew over her left shoulder looking like a bloody waterfall. She reached for the priest with deadly intent, her large bony hands opened wide ready to claw at his soul. Then the door to Abby’s room busted open. She turned around swiftly and saw Joseph. His eyes exploded with distraught terror. She squealed a high and shrill pitched scream upon his entry. She put her hand out to touch him.

“Father, can you hear me? What’s happened to Abby, is she all right.” He said shaking with horror.

Father Devuall didn’t respond. He had fallen to the floor, dead of a heart attack. As if she had forgotten the reason why she was here, Anne began walking towards Joseph. He put his arms up in front of him as if to protect himself. He looked away when she towered in front of him. He was sure he would die today. But then he heard Anne’s soft voice. It was the voice of Ireland. A voice he knew all too well.

“Joseph please, it’s me Anne. Don’t be frightened.”

With great effort he lowered his arms and gazed at her in horror. Gone was the hulking, demonic pale body. She stood before him naked, drenched in glistening clear slime and her face as beautiful as the day they met. An afterlife glow surrounded her entire body.

“My dear Joseph.” She reached out to touch him but could not feel him. He released an anguished cry. “Anne, it is you.”

She spoke in the dark room. “Abby needed me Joseph. So I’m here to protect her.”

She turned away from her living husband and walked back to the dead priest. In the blink of an eye, Anne morphed back into the gargantuan demon she had become in order to save her daughter’s life. The sight of father Devuall lying dead on the floor angered her. She howled at the ceiling and her wings flew upward. Then there was a pounding at Abby’s door. It was Anne’s sister. Joseph had locked it before she could get in to witness this dreadful situation: her niece lying almost dead on her bed, a dead priest on the floor and her sister, the vengeful white demon from heaven.

“Everything is ok. Abby is fine Elizabeth. It’s almost over,” he told his sister in law without taking his eyes off of Anne. And with that Anne picked up father Devuall. She placed her thick hand over his un-beating heart. An orange glow of light formed over his chest. He came alive.

“Dying would be to easy father,” she snarled at him.

He frowned and let out a defeated gasp of despair. She swung him over her wide shoulder, preparing to take him to hell where he would suffer a never ending heart attack in the depths of his fiery prison.

She turned and faced Joseph and Abby for the last time. Abby began moving in her bed. She moaned and started to cry. It was Abby; she was back and unharmed as St. Michael promised. She sat up in her bed. She said hysterically, “Daddy, daddy, what happened?” Her father went to her and picked her up. He laid her head down on his shoulder and turned the other way so she couldn’t see her mother.

“It’s ok Abby. It’s over.”

“What’s over Daddy?”

She hadn’t remembered a thing.

A hot bolt of lightning struck the ground outside close to the farmhouse. It lit up Abby’s room and everyone looked like ghosts. The witching green hue of the sky could be seen through the window behind Anne. It looked deadly gothic and made the room even darker, leaving one to wonder if it was dusk or dawn. Joseph cradled his daughter’s head as he watched Anne from across the room. She turned and crashed through the window, showering the room with sharp glass. She flew out and high above the farmhouse and over the cornfield as lightning struck near and far. A mass of angry brown clouds silently drifted in her course swallowing her and the evildoer priest in one giant gulp.






























Sid was thinking of the fresh catch he made at the club tonight as he carefully applied black eye liner around his eyes, being careful not to smudge it too badly. There were so many to choose from, but he reveled in the thought of having finally found the one that will make history with him.

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead from the hot, round, bright bulbs around the bathroom mirror. They buzzed an electrical tune as he applied his mother’s makeup and hummed along to the song playing on the record player in the other room. The soft cries of a weeping female beyond the bathroom door clashed with the audio. The ball gag in her mouth dripped with spit and tears and was becoming saturated. He turned his head and saw a flash of her snotty, mascara streaked face through the crack in the bathroom door. Their eyes met and she screamed through her wet ball gag as if saying ‘please’. He kicked the door closed.

As thrilled as Sid was with his catch, he couldn’t get over the strained thought that’s been running through his mind all night. A distressed and confused face of a young man reflected back at him in the mirror. It wasn’t the acid he and his friends had taken at the club just now catching up with him. And it wasn’t that new freaked out band called Skinny Puppy the dj was playing. No, he thought. It wasn’t any of these things that were troubling him. Not even the thought of his drunk mother being totally unaware of his makeup fetish, or his millionaire CEO father spending more time on his private island to notice his only son is a serial killer prodigy and wants to fuck his kid sister.

It was upsetting for the eighteen year old knowing his gift had gone unnoticed far too long. He felt his work wasn’t getting the attention it deserved. It’s hard to get caught when you’re as good as Sid. Since the age of fifteen his gift has taken the lives of 72 people; mostly young girls but a few men. All were meticulously planned, thought out and executed with precise precision. He was just too damn good. He even wrote a letter to the police trying to play some kind of cat and mouse game but they never took it seriously. Fuck all of them, he thought. Fuck the rapists, arsonists, thieves, meth heads and the other sick fucks that get all the attention. I’m great at what I do and I’ll show the world.

As he held the black eyeliner pen to his left eye, his right eye was planted on the wallet size picture of his little sister smiling back at him in the corner of the mirror. His left hand emerged from his pants, sticky and smelling of bleach. I love you, he whispered wearily to the picture in a quivering voice.

In the other room the bound female choked and cried as It’s my life by Wendy O Williams began fading out, nearing the end, as was Sid’s three year killing hobby.

Looking like a whored out mannequin, he gazed at himself in the mirror and smiled. A feeling of hope rushed through him when he closed his eyes. It began snowing outside, just two days before Christmas 1987.





















Blood Show





The crowd was primed and ready in the arena that night as they patiently watched the road crew prep the stage for the evenings headlining act. Black Sabbath played on the pa at a medium volume as the strong stench of marijuana chocked the arena. Anticipation lurked amongst the excited crowd on the floor, mainly due to the large circular platform dangling high above their heads. It looked as if it was a children’s size pool floating in midair although it was held up by chains. There were words written on the side but could not be made out.

Suddenly the doomy audio of Sabbath on the pa lowered and a small roar emitted from the crowd, only to be ambushed by Agorapocalypse Now by Agoraphobic Nosebleed playing extremely loud over the pa; so loud it sounds distorted.

Just as the audio violence hits, a large white banner falls behind the drum kit with vertical blood red streaks and a massive band logo colored red, and is followed by white banners being quickly thrown over the bands amps also displaying the same blood red streaks and band logo.

A loud roar erupts from the crowd as hundreds of fists and devil horns reach towards the arena ceiling. The crowd begins to sway back and forth, pushing towards the security railing as the fog machine fills the stage.

As the intense grind plays on the pa the large circular platform begins lowering towards the anxious crowd on the floor. A sea of hands rise up as rabid fans begin to crowd surf. The volume level of the crowd increases. A terrified girl holds on tight to her boyfriend covering her face in fear and another is pulled over the barricade by security over the railing.

Written on the pool like object is “No turning back, No fucking way out” in blood red on a white background. The crowd erupts even louder now! The people in the seats are standing up watching the out of control floor of metalheads.

Without warning the bottom of the circular platform opens up sending out a flood of dark, fake red blood onto the crowd. A mix of yells and raised fists, along with shocked covered mouths came from the people in the seats. Mayhem sets in as Katherine Kat’s vokills rape the pa and bloody, sweaty bodies slither across each other in adoring metallic bliss.

The grind attack quickly ends on the pa, but then the stage lights go out and only the stage lights. The remainder of the arena lights stayed on. The usual roar when the lights go out a concert ensues. There seemed to be a confused like chatter from the crowd as some thought they forgot to turn out all the lights, little did they know it was all part of the show.

A video projection begins to play on the white backdrop. It shows a young dark haired girl lying face down on what seems to be a garage floor. As she raises herself up blood flows from her long black hair. A horrifying and eerie instrumental constructed of violins plays on the pa. Unable to see her face she begins walking in slow motion towards a door. Her slow moving footsteps pound the pa with heavy thuds. When she begins to open the door her left hand slowly creeps up the side of the wall making its way to a light switch. The crowd begins to roar furiously. The eerie music ends as the bloody girl turns her head revealing one eye, and then flips the light switch off. A loud pop is heard over the pa as the house lights go out.

The bloody crowd is beyond electric.

The terrifying sound of the screeching violins blisters the pa. The effect of rumbling thunder adds to the horror show as red strobe lights electrify the stage.

Then from out of nowhere she appeared, under a bright white spotlight.

Blood drenched, she stands with a creepy, crooked stance, her head tilted to the side with blood dripping from her long black hair onto the stage. The dominant vokillist holds the mic stand with one hand as the other hand swings to her side holding a large butcher knife. From the shadows the other members take their places on the stage.

Streaks of blood flow down her leg from her white shorts as she stares hauntingly out into the crowd. The violin massacre continues on the pa as she begins to lick the large butcher knife. The blood queen had arrived and was ready to murder her blood soaked children of the night with metallic malice.

A piercing 1 2 3 4 hi-hat count off comes over the pa and the bloody heavy metal onslaught begins.

This is, Angel Bloody Angel!



Keri White was backstage that evening as the opening band took the stage. Up to this point she had interviewed a handful of bands and was very excited to land a job working as a writer for Metal Killer, the Midwest’s premier metal music webzine. So far Keri’s journalistic skills have granted her interviews with Goatwhore, Danzig and Slayer to name a few, and has been coined queen of the mountain in the world of metal journalism. This particular interview was different though. This was the big one as they say. But not for the shocking stage show that ABA presents, full of blood and loud guitars, and not for the high pitched screaming vokills of lead singer Lacy “loud” Larson. It was for her portrayal and glorifying of one of the most notorious murderers in the history of Indiana: Angel Larson, the one responsible for the “Bludenhale Massacre of 1974”, a horrendous and gruesome murder that took place in the small town of Bludenhale, Indiana back in 1974.

Angel Bloody Angel is adored by teenage metal sickos and hated by many, mainly the parents of the sickos, but what the hell do the parents know. The kids wanted their blood and metal, and ABA delivered it hardcore.

The muffled rumble of the roaring crowd and the opening band Kendra says Kill, crept through the concrete walls in the room where Keri waited patiently for her interview. A hard rain from a thundershower could be heard hitting the roof of the arena.

The waiting was the hardest part for Keri. Her chosen profession was one that left you at the mercy of the band. It was just part of it. You waited; waited for showers, catering, meet and greets, soundchecks. But she knew it would be worth it. Lacy Larson had taken the metal world by storm with her chilling onstage presence and downright scary as hell high pitched screaming vocals and Keri was ready to dig deep into the mind of the vocalist, but sometimes what you dig up isn’t what you thought it was. Some things should stay buried.


ABA tour manager Darrell Rock had been busy all day getting things ready for the evenings show. He literally had not sat down since the tour bus parked itself behind the arena at 11 a.m. It was a stressful job being a tour manager, especially for a band like ABA. When you have to direct and manage an entire road crew, set up catering, schedule a sound check, and not to mention keep track of three semi trailer’s one which is used just for fake blood alone, you have to keep you’re shit together. This is where Darrell excelled; keeping cool under pressure. Don’t blow your lid, keep your shit together, although lately it was becoming increasingly harder for Darrell to do just that. The kid from a small town in Indiana with nails in her throat and fire in her eyes had turned eerily similar to the monster she portrays onstage, and it was driving Darrell to the edge. More than she knew.


“Hey Murphy it’s me Darrell.” Juggling a cell phone conversation in one hand and a large hot lemon tea in the other, Darrell quickly walked down the hall backstage to Keri’s room.

“Yeah the opening act just went on and Lacy has that interview with that gal from Metal Killer, uh what’s her name, White, Keri White.” The greedy record executive on the other line was throwing out a barrage of questions nonstop. Darrell did his best to walk, talk and balance a hot beverage at the same time. “The turnout has been great tonight so far. The kids are rabid,” Darrell laughed but was interrupted. “Uh ya know Murphy I haven’t seen the total for tonight’s ticket sales, I’ve been busy with all this other crap.” He was rudely interrupted again. “T-shirt sales?” He felt a huge sense of relief when he saw the door to Keri’s room getting closer. He walked a little faster trying not to spill the hot tea. “Hey as soon as I get t-shirt sales I’ll text you.” He did his best I don’t want to talk to you anymore fake static sound as he reached Keri’s room. “Sorry Murph the reception sucks with these concrete wall’s, gotta go.” He let out a sigh while shaking his head in disgust. “Shmuck,” he said under his breath. Turning his head side to side as if trying to relax, he opened the door to Keri’s room. And he didn’t spill the tea.

Extending his hand towards Keri he welcomed her kindly. “Hi, you must be Keri, we’ve heard a lot about you,”

“Oh no, did the guys at Metal Killer run their mouth about me again?” Keri joked. “Just hope they left out the serial killer part and the old person fetish thingy.” Darrell laughed, “You have a sense of humor, I like that, you’re gonna need it.”

He noticed the vibrant artwork along Keri’s arm. “Whoa, that’s a nice looking sleeve,” he said as he set the cup of tea down on a table.

“Thanks, just had the dragon and hearts done last week,” she told him.

“Not too shabby yourself there brother.” She gently turned Darrells arm viewing his black and white art scars.

“Thanks. Hey, I apologize for the delay. Lacy is in the shower now, she’ll be ready here shortly.”

“That’s ok, I’m used to it,” Keri smiled.


After about ten minutes, a tall woman with long black hair wearing sunglasses and a dark grey robe entered the room. A black security guard followed behind her. She made it clear to everyone on the tour that she would have security with her at all times. It was a rock star thing. Darrell couldn’t hide his embarrassment as Lacy walked past him. He leaned against the wall, covering his face. Her hair, still wet from her shower, dripped steadily onto the grey carpeted floor. Keri wasn’t too shocked by the stars behavior, but this was the highest level of rock star narcissism she had yet encountered. The blood queen quietly sat down onto a blue metal folding chair and then crossed her legs in a lady like gesture as she stroked her hair over her shoulder. The stair down began.

Lacy tilted her head slightly to the right, her hands were now crossed on her knee. Her attitude and over all body language said, I’m so fucking bored get me the fuck out of here, I have better things to do. The awkward silence was almost unbearable for Darrell. He nervously nodded to the security guard in a what’s up kinda way. The security guard returned the gesture with a slow nod. After about fifteen seconds of this weird silent staring game between the two females, Keri was only able to get in the sound of her breath before she was ambushed by a quick “no,no,no” from the jaded one sitting across from her. Lacy motioned to Darrell with her hand and in a light voice, “My cigarettes.” Bitch couldn’t even say please. Like a grumpy old husband obeying his nagging wife, Darrell walked over to Lacy handing her a pack of smokes. Raising a cancer stick to her puffy, ruby red lips she realized she needed a light. Again she rudely motioned to Darrell. The imaginary brick wall between her and Darrell must have kept her from seeing the lighter being handed to her. She just sat there with her cig dangling from her mouth waiting for a light. Humiliated, the angry tour manager reluctantly lit her cigarette.

A long plume of smoke exited from her mouth while Keri sat across from her wide eyed. Waiting, staring, hearts racing, feet tapping, more staring, more I don’t want to be here body language, until finally…..

“So, you must be Keri,” Lacy said slowly. “That would be correct Ms…” Keri cautiously looked at Darrell. “Please, call me Lacy,” the queen told her. Keri knew she was in for a rocky ride and the interview she was hoping for was becoming less of a reality. Being in this type of work she had come across these types before, but never this extreme. The only thought in her mind was either get in and get out, or go in for the kill. She contemplated for a moment and went with the latter. It’s killing time.

“So it sounds like Kendra says Kill is destroying the crowd right now. They’re the best all girl metal band out there now and damn what a screamer Kendra Kill is. Wouldn’t you agree?” Keri knew what she was doing. If you’re going to knock down an egotistical rock star a few notches, go for the jugular and ask them what they think of the opening bands lead singer. Lacy was wearing a pair of black sunglasses but the look on her face couldn’t hide her eyes turning red. “Who? Oh yeah, she’s great,” she smirked sarcastically. Continuing the interview Keri asked how ABA drummer was doing. “How is Steve holding up? That hand injury had to have been rough on him?” With a pissy tone and a painfully forced smile Lacy responded, “He’s fine.”

Like a kindergarten teacher wowing over a scribbled piece of artwork from a five year old, Keri asked Lacy, “And what about you, how are you holding up with this extensive tour schedule, you must be exhausted.” This was followed by a quick tap on the Lacy’s knee from Keri. Not even the enormous butcher knife prop Lacy used on stage could cut through the tension filled room. “I’m peachy,” Lacy said through clenched teeth and a kink in her neck. Darrell stood against the wall facing Lacy. The look on his face was code to Keri that she should back off. And she did. She liked and respected Darrell and could sense he was a good person when they met.

“OK, enough small talk. Let’s get down to it,” Keri said and moved her sandy blonde hair away from her face as she pressed record on a small tape recorder.

“Yes, let’s get this over with,” Lacy said while shifting in her chair.


Keri: “The new album ‘Fetish’ has been well received by the metal underground, and the new single ‘Sexy Knife Fetish’ has been in regular rotation on Liquid Metal for the past three weeks. Were you prepared for that kind of response?”

Lacy: “Well, being that our last album ‘Bloody Fingers’ made the little kiddies ears bleed with delight, I wasn’t surprised that ‘Fetish’ would do the same. Of course you’re always somewhat nervous to a degree when you release a new album, but I knew the kids would eat it up, blood and all.”

Keri: “There are some interesting song titles on this one; dogfucked, bone bitch, filth freak, yet you do a cover of Kiss’s ‘Do You Love Me’; done of course with your high pitched distorted screams your fans can’t get enough of. This leads me to the track ‘She’s a screamer’ which is basically a vocal solo of you screaming for a minute and thirty four seconds. That’s pretty brutal and it’s something that’s never been done before.”

Lacy: “Yeah there was a big ego brawl about the cover song thing. Management suggested ‘Be my lover’ by Alice Cooper, but I thought ‘Do you love me’ was more fitting and I obviously won. The screaming thing was my idea and was done solely just to piss off your neighbors at two in the morning.”

Keri: “ABA is no stranger to controversy, especially when it comes to shocking the general public with your very bloody album covers. Your latest offering depicts you on your knees, face down into what looks like a dog bowl overflowing with blood. The album title ‘Fetish’ is carved into the bowl. You are also bound by a barbwire leash around your neck by a blonde vixen wearing executioners mask.”

Lacy: “It is what it is darling.”

Kari: “Some fans believe the cover is subliminal in the sense that the one holding the leash represents Heather Smith; the one murdered by Angel Larson in 1974.

Lacy: “It could be possibly. I’ll leave that up to the fans to decide.”

Kari: “Tell me about the connection between the band Angel Bloody Angel and the Bludenhale Massacre of 1974.”

Lacy: “Well first of all growing up in Bludenhale, Indiana sucked. There was absolutely nothing to do and nothing but fucking cornfields. The only thing that town is known for is the Bludenhale Massacre of 1974 and of course the infamous Angel Larson . I became fascinated with the legend when I was a little girl, mainly because everyone was so afraid to even speak about it. I guess it’s the punk in me, I don’t know. I never really liked people telling me what to think or believe, even in the case of the Bludenhale Massacre. I’ve always been attracted to the darker things in life anyway. Hell my first band was an all-girl Danzig cover band called Devils Plaything. We all wore devil locks just like Glen. It was pretty gnarly. Eventually I took a liking to heavier forms of music like death metal and grind. I got hooked on bands like Anal Cunt, Exit 13, but I still liked Danzig and of course the mighty Pantera. I moved from Bludenhale two years after I graduated. I did a whole thing on the Bludenhale Massacre and Angel Larson for my senior project. I never heard the end of it, so I left. I could just imagine how Angel felt growing up in that shithole. When I got this band together I was like fuck it, I’m going all the way with this, and if people are disgusted by it, fuck’em!”

Kari: “When you talk about how Angel Larson must have felt growing up in Bludenhale, do you feel as though you have a connection with Angel?”

Lacy: “Yeah I do, a lot actually. I feel like we were both outcasts in that shithole. She was thrown to the wolves after the murder. That town ripped her apart.”

Kari: “Wait, you do realize that she brutally murdered three people, one being her best friend. Are you saying she was innocent?”

Lacy: “I’m not saying she is innocent. I’m just saying that fucking town is ruthless, nothing but small minded bullshit.”

Kari began to push the issue more and more, not letting up one bit. Darrell was biting his nails deciding when to jump in, if he had to at all.

Kari: “So you feel sorry for Angel?”

Lacy: “Uh I never said that. Don’t put words in my mouth. Where are you going with this?”

Lacy was becoming more irritated and started shaking her leg while taking quick puffs from her cigarette. It’s as if she is a human volcano ready to burst.

Kari: “You know right now there are protestors outside that wanna rip you apart. They’re appalled that you idolize a murderer. How do you feel about that Lacy?”

Lacy threw her arms up in frustration. “Darrell what the fuck is this?” Her voice went up a couple notches, sounding scratchy from either from too many camels or too much screaming or maybe both.

Kari: “Some say that your obsession with Angel Larson overrides the bands integrity. I mean you actually kinda look like her; long black hair, tall. Hell you even use her last name.”

“Are we done here?” The angry vocalist shouted, making a curtain of her blue black hair fly away from her face. She crossed her arms.

Darrell stood frozen against the wall, wondering why the hell he didn’t jump in two minutes ago and end the interview. He was a nervous wreck but part of him was secretly enjoying this.

Kari: “Lacy?”

Kari leaned towards Lacy like a high school counselor giving a student a pep talk.

Kari: “Do you think you are Angel Larson?”

The room was filled with an incredibly intense feeling. There was a moment of absolute silence after the question was asked and then a low boom of thunder sounded outside along with the muffled roar of an electric crowd anticipating there hero.

Lacy had an ‘ok ya got me’ kind of smile on her face for a few seconds. She sat up and put her elbow on her knee. Her chin sunk into the palm of her hand; her fingers tapped at her teeth. She shook her head and laughed,waving a finger at Kari.

“You like to ask a lot of questions don’t you. Well I got a question for you.”

Sitting back in her chair, Lacy resumed her slouched position, but now her robe had opened up revealing her black patch of pubic hair along with cuts and scars on her inner thighs. A small trickle of blood inched its way down her thigh. “You ever eat a bloody pussy?”

“Jesus Christ Lacy!” Darrell yelled.

“I’d prefer the Virgin Mary, oh wait, I can’t, I lost that when I was fifteen,” Lacy retorted.

“Ok, we’re done here.” Disgusted, Kari stood up, gathering up her things.

Lacy was laughing hysterically like some evil queen in her castle. Kari shook hands with Darrell and walked towards the door. “I’m really sorry about this,” he explained.

“It’s ok, live and learn I guess.” She turned to Lacy, her robe still open exposing herself. Embarrassed by Lacy’s actions, Kari thanked her for her time and wished her the best in her career. It was a very professional gesture on Kari’s part, but not well received by Lacy who responded crudely with, “Whatever bitch.”

Kari, Darrell and the bodyguard (his face screaming relief that it was over) began walking to the door, but Kari wanted to have the last word. Just before she walked out she turned and faced Lacy and said, “Oh by the way, Katherine Kat called, said she wants her voice back!” Darrell could have sworn he saw Lacy’s eyes turn red as she rushed towards Kari screaming like a lunatic. “You fucking bitch!” The poor bodyguard found himself in between a tangled mess of blonde and black hair, and fingernails as sharp as knives. Darrell quickly grabbed Lacy around her waist, picking her up as she continued scratching at Kari’s face. The bodyguard ushered the journalist out of the room.

Darrell turned to Lacy with fury in his eyes.

“What the fuck was that?” He yelled at the top of his lungs.

The jaded vocalist began laughing hysterically again. “Oh relax hot shot; I’m just having a little fun.”

“You are fucking crazy! You have some godamn nerve, you know that!” Darrell’s face was turning red with hot anger. He could feel his blood pressure rising.

“All these fucking journalists are the same man,” Lacy said as she took her place again in her chair. She lit up a cigarette.

Darrell began massaging his forehead trying to calm himself.

In a mocking voice Lacy spoke with a wicked tongue. “Oh look it’s poor Darrell, can’t handle the pressure, wah,wah,wah!” She jokingly wiped fake tears from her eyes. And then suddenly the room was quiet for a few moments.

Lacy was eyeing Darrell, looking at him suspiciously. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking you should have taken the Goatwhore gig, right? No drama, no bullshit. But you didn’t did you. You were going where the big bucks are at, and its right here baby!” She grabbed at her crotch and squeezed, and then sat bold legged in her chair, her knees touching. As she continued her tirade, Darrell could feel his blood boiling at her every word. “Oh I forgot sweetie, the Goatwhore tour didn’t offer enough money. Not enough to cover poor Ms. Rocks chemotherapy.” Lacy stood up and began clapping her hands mockingly. “Let’s hear it for poor little Darrell, suffering out here on the road putting up with all this rock star bullshit, while his bald, near dead wife sits alone at home missing her fucking do-gooder husband!”

The boiling point had been reached. Darrell lunged at her with extreme hate, his hands reaching for her neck. He threw her up against the concrete wall. His teeth grit together in pure anger as her squeezed her neck hard. It felt as though his heart was going to burst out of his chest. Lacy started to hack and spit and gasp for air.

“What ya gotta say now you fucking cunt!” Darrell raged at her.

She tried to talk, but only choked coughs came out.

“What!” Darrell yelled.

Her hands went around his. He loosened his grip slightly. Her eyes clenched shut in agony.

“Are you gonna fucking kill me Darrell, is that what you’re going to do?” She coughed. “You don’t have the fucking balls. Do it, I want you to fucking DO IT!” His eyes lit up with fire at Lacy’s request which he would gladly carry out.

Just then a loud bang came from the door. Their eyes were glued to each other. Lacy looked over to the door. A man’s voice came from the other side. “Is everything all right in there?”

Darrell finally released his death grip, slowly.

“Twenty minutes till showtime Lacy,” The voice called out again.

“Yeah all right,” Lacy said as she wiped a string of saliva from her mouth. Breathing heavily she tried to compose herself. Darrell leaned against the wall, feeling exhausted and overwhelmed by his act of hate. He leaned over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

Still trying to catch her breath as well, Lacy told Darrell, “Ya know, that was kind of hot. I’ve never been choked out before.” She felt in between her legs. “Look Darrell, I’m wet.” She showed him her hand which glistened with her sex secretions and blood.

The crowd could be heard through the concrete walls chanting Angel over and over again. They were getting restless. Lacy’s breathing returned to a somewhat normal rate. She acted as if nothing ever happened. “Well gotta go, my children are calling.”

“You’re fucking mental,” Darrell said to her. He had a twisted and disgruntled look of disgust on his face. Still leaning over catching his breath, he waved at her without looking at her, motioning for her to go. She started towards the door.

“Can’t forget this.” She grabbed her tea which was now perfectly cooled and ready to drink. She took a sip and smiled at Darrell.

Just before she exited the room, Darrell shouted, “Hey Lacy, knock’em dead kid!”


Lacy made her way to the stage accompanied by two security guards. She was covered in blood courtesy of her personal assistant dousing her with fake red gore minutes before the show. Looks that Kill by Motley Crue was playing loudly over the pa as the anxious crowd waited. She tried to shrug off the fiasco of an interview and the little chocking game with Darrell. The warmth of her smooth lemon tea coated her throat as she took a sip.

“Are you about ready Lacy?” The stage manager asked.

She snapped at him like an angry dog holding up her cup of tea. “You see this in my hand. When it’s empty I’ll be ready, got it!” She tilted her head back quickly and drank the last of her tea. The crowd began to roar as the crue ended.

“Now give me my knife,” she said.

The lights went out.


Slithering bodies lubricated by fake blood slid off one another on the main floor of the arena. It’s a sea of human flesh and blood. A violent bloodbath of twenty something’s. The aroma of dude sweat and testosterone mixed with girl’s baby powder deodorant and pot. A young girl flung her drenched blonde hair in a windmill pattern. Her perspiration flew above the mob. Beer cup missiles were launched. Fingernails clawed at backs and shoulders as rabid sickos climbed their way to the top of the human blood pile. Slippery hands pushed bloody bodies forward, creating a mangled mess of feet and hands. A kid up front gets slammed in the head by a large black boot. His face was bloodied by the collision, real blood. Strobe lights danced in unison to the pounding double kick drum battery. An exhausted security guard wiped sweat from his forehead as incoming bodies came flying in over the railing like a bloody beast chewing and spitting out its victims. The arena has become a splatterhouse of blood and metal. Hail to the warriors that fear no brutal pit and to those who slip and slide shoulder to shoulder with brothers and sisters amongst red gore and vile audio.

All this insanity! All this ritualistic controlled mayhem, brought on by the audio violence pumping through the pa and the screams of the one orchestrating the madness with her large bloody butcher knife, tauntingly swinging it at her bloody children as they float atop arms and hands in hopes of getting slashed by the queen. Lacy “loud” Larson stood at center stage; her knife in hand and foot atop a monitor. The bloodshow had begun and despite Lacy’s near death experience at the hands of Darrell, she was still able to deliver the goods. That was until though by the end of the third song in the blistering set, she had begun to feel a slight nausea coming on. Her body was in the zone of blood and mayhem but she knew something wasn’t quite right. She forged on anyway continuing to slash at the oncoming bodies over the guard rail.

Darrell eased his way through the maze of road cases and snake like cables in the backstage area. He leaned steadily on a case watching the show from the side of the stage. For Lacy, the nausea started getting worse, a lot worse. This sudden onset on sickness threw the bloody one into a panic. The slashing became less and less as she took hold of a mic stand, choosing to head bang as she quickly did a panicked recap of her day in her mind, all while brutal guitar leads scorched the pa. “What did I eat today, fuck, think dammit! Half a sandwich, Subway I think, shit! Uh, grapes, some chips?” At the same time Kari caught Darrell’s eye. She was on the opposite side of the stage watching. She waved to him. He nodded back.

Meanwhile things were unraveling for Lacy as she stood stiff as a board holding on for dear life to the mic stand. No headbanging. The nausea had taken over her body. Vomit water started to form in the back of her throat. Her tongue salivated from the acidic flavor. Her stomach felt hot, her legs shaky, but yet her arms and hands felt ice cold. She gripped the mic and held her head down. Her forehead met the cold metal microphone. “What the fuck is happening to me?” Her mind became a whirlwind of panic and distraught just as her guitar player gave a confused shrug to the drummer.

Darrell continued to look on with curious eyes. Kari also takes notice of the singer’s sluggishness.

Nausea now gave way to a new found terror as constricting, sharp pains attacked her insides. She doubled over in a quick motion holding her stomach. Blood soaked strings of black hair covered her face. Horrendous bouts of sharp pain lasting two to three seconds stabbed at her midriff. She had missed her cue for the chorus of the song. The guitar player looked over at Darrell, who motions to keep playing. Some fans in front have noticed the sudden stage presence of their hero. A few think this might be part of the show.

An amazing sense of relief was felt by Lacy when those three seconds stabs of pain subsided, but only for a few seconds, and then right back to the cruel, unrelenting pain. “Am I dying?” she thought. “Am I seriously fucking dying?”

Phase three of Lacy’s predicament now unfolded as her acid scraped throat began the slow process of closing. A horrifying tightness squeezed around her neck like a constrictor and a new kind of panic took over in her mind. Hyperventilating gripped her lungs, but there was no air to get out. Her throat closed shut like a compactor. It felt as though she was being buried alive, with each helpless swoop of breath feeling like a shovel full of dirt being thrown on a half-buried alive body.

Lacy started to stumble around the stage, walking crookedly like a new born calf trying to walk for the first time. Still hanging on with a death grip to the mic stand, she saw Darrell in the corner of her eye. She slowly turned her head and stared at him with scared and helpless eyes. A string of drool hung at the corner of her mouth. The stage started spinning. Visions of the band, Darrell and the crowd zipped past her in a whirlwind of sickness and pain. A distant voice rang loudly in her ears. “Knock’em Dead Kid” it said over and over. Snapshots of the interview and the fight with Darrell from earlier flash like lightning in her mind, just as a foamy substance snakes its way from her mouth, looking something like a sudsy overflowing washer. More voices echo in her mind as if in a deep well. “Can’t forget this” and “When it’s empty I’ll be ready, got it!” Darrell’s face came into her view. “Bye, Bye Lacy” His mouth moved in slow motion. The band played on as Lacy took one last slow look at her bloody children in front of her and then at Darrell. Her eyes blew up wide when she then realized. It was the tea, motherfuuuu…. She began to fall like a fighter going down after a brutal hit to the face. She suddenly collapsed on stage, falling on her knees and then quickly falling to her side. Her eyes stared blankly at a terrified young girl in the front row. Two roadies quickly ran to the stage, kneeling down looking in fear at Lacy. They turn her on her back. Her body jerks from convulsions as white foam oozes its way out her mouth onto the stage. A small fountain of blood vomit erupts from her mouth. It splatters at her cheeks leaving thorny lines and specs of red. The shocked and horrified audience watched in disbelief as two security guards carried their hero off stage on a stretcher; her arms dangling lifelessly over the stretcher.


A doctor later that night unofficially determined the cause of death as death by poisoning. The autopsy a week later would confirm this deadly diagnosis of lethal poisoning. And the suicidal lyrics (written by Lacy, safely tucked in a white envelope titled ‘lyric ideas’ inside her black back pack) found by detectives in her dressing room would be the final piece of the puzzle, putting it all in perspective. Although sitting on Lacy’s dressing room table amongst eye makeup, blue fingernail polish and black lipstick, detectives did find that white envelope with ‘lyric ideas’ written on it out in the open, like it was screaming at them to be seen and opened. Darrell didn’t want them to miss it.












The Falls





Many years ago a strange and violent incident took place at Merskashitonia Falls, a beautiful state park known for its rushing water falls located in Blue Angel, Kentucky. Sixteen year old Jeanie Smith and her half-sister fourteen year old Ella Smith were beaten and raped and forced to do unthinkable acts to each other by a group of Kentucky degenerates in their small, well hidden cabin one Saturday afternoon. The raping’s were brutal and yes the acts were horrendous, but it was the event that occurred after the rape in the cabin that day that would forever keep Jeanie Smith looking over her shoulder and the bed covers over her eyes at night.


Jeanie and Ella had been going to Merskashitonia Falls since they were little. Their father, who was the ceo of a major pharmaceutical company in Indiana, owned a cabin secluded deep in the park with tall pines trees surrounding it. His daughters could never pronounce the name of the park. It was always Meskosia or Merskeesa, but to the girls it was simply: The falls.

On September 5th, 2002, the Smith’s entered the park at the main entrance driving their black Lincoln suv through and open wooden gate. The park ranger waved to the family as they drove past the security shack. Once they were at their cabin the girls retreated to the tire swing behind the cozy wooden cabin while their parents unloaded the Lincoln and then prepared lunch.

Jeanie stood in front of the swing pushing Ella lightly back and forth. They smiled and blushed at each other as their eyes met on each incoming swing.

They knew their secret.

On the drive down that morning from Indiana, Jeanie gazed out the window at the turning leaves of autumn as she listened to God Bless the Children of the Beast by Motley Crue on her headset. She was thinking of her and Ella’s love making session they shared two days ago when their parents were away at a dinner party. She thought of their bodies tangled on the floor in a sixty nine position and how her sister’s cunt stunk. It was remnants of her period or it could’ve been from her ass which explained why she ran off the bus and inside the house so quickly that afternoon. Once Jeanie got past the smell it was pure heaven. She thought of how they cried as they enjoyed each other’s bodies because their love was so strong for one another. It was their secret and no one could ever find out, not even their boyfriends. Jeanie was sixteen and had been seeing her boyfriend Trevor steadily for a year. What Jeanie didn’t understand was how Ella was fourteen and was on her third boyfriend of whom she was already having sex with. She pushed the thought aside and put her hand on Ella’s as they drove along the curving and bending road towards the falls. Ella gave her a lovely and innocent smile like some orphan that just made a wish on a shooting star. Please, if you’re parents only knew that you got your sister off two days ago and made her come three times (a feat not even in the ballpark for Jeanie’s boyfriend Trevor) they would be puking their rich guts out, screaming and huddling in the corner covering their mouths in disgust as if they’ve seen Jesus Christ ejaculate blood. You sneaky, dirty little shit!

Jeanie continued pushing her sister on the swing. Their long brown hair flowed in the early autumn air.

“Girls, lunch,” Their mother called to them from inside their the cabin.

They went inside for a quick bite to eat and then they were off to find a hidden trail in which they had not yet discovered. They promised their mother that they wouldn’t go too far and that they would not be gone long.

Minutes later they found themselves under mile high pine trees not too far from their cabin. The sound of a distant waterfall made its way through the shadowy forest where beams of light pierced through dark green leaves. The girls stood head to head with the palms of their hands touching. They were kissing. And that’s when Ella noticed a man standing off in the distance from behind her sister’s shoulder. Jeanie noticed the sudden change in her younger sister.

“Are you all right El?” Jeanie asked.

Ella nodded, “Jeanie, look.”

Jeanie turned around and saw a man standing from a distance within the trees. At first he was leaning up against an old oak tree but then started to walk back and forth slowly in a pacing kind of way, all while not taking his eyes off of the girls.

“I think we should get back to the cabin Jeanie,” Ella nervously said. She had a scared look in her eyes.

“What a creepoid. Why is he walking like that?” Jeanie said and then continued, “Ok, maybe you’re right. We’ll get going.”

Jeanie took her sister by the hand and they began walking back the way they came. As they walked Ella looked over her shoulder at the man. He stopped his pacing and was now just standing there watching them walk away.

“Don’t turn around Ella. Just keep walki….” Jeanie’s sentence was cut off when two men stepped in front of their path about thirty feet in front of them. The girls came to a frightening halt. Ella squeezed Jeanie’s hand tight and gasped. The two men were grisly looking. One was heavy set with a bushy red beard and hair. The other had short, black greasy hair and was thin and gangly. They both wore tan overalls that looked oil and dirt stained. The girls stood frozen to the ground with fear. Ella looked over her shoulder again and saw that the man had moved closer to them. She couldn’t help but noticed how dingy he looked even at a distance. He had on khaki pants that sagged at his waist. His dark blue shirt was un-tucked and unbuttoned down the middle.

“C’mon, let’s just keep walking. We’re not far from the cabin,” Jeanie finally said. They began walking once again and the two men in front of them followed their lead. The girls started walking to the right as to avoid the men. But the men crept adjacently towards them, bound to cut them off. As they inched closer, Jeanie saw the thinner man holding something in his hand. It was a crowbar. She held her head down, mumbled something to Ella which she couldn’t understand and began walking faster. Both the girls and two men were on the same stride and were nearing each other like two lines coming to a point. They could feel the doomy presence of the men getting closer to them. Jeanie and Ella walked quickly with their faces to the ground as if they broke their mothers prized dinner plate and were trying to make a quick unnoticed escape. Then the men were closer and closer. “Don’t look up,” Jeanie mumbled. Ella’s heart was beating like a fast moving locomotive when she realized her and Jeanie would not be able to move any further because the men were now almost directly in front of them. The sisters came to a dead stop still with their heads down. The two greasy looking men stood in front of them. The fat one was holding a rusty ball bat and the skinny one had his crowbar in one hand and an open can of beer in the other. Sick with fear Ella said, “Please, we just want to get back to our cabin.” The skinny black haired Kentuckian’s mouth was full of tobacco. He spit and a line looking like a slimy worm came from his mouth. The big boy on the left was breathing slow and heavy like he just climbed a flight of stairs. His round girth of a belly slowly went in and out on each breath. Neither of the men said anything. They just looked at the girls with bulgy looking eyes. Suddenly Jeanie said, “We’re just on our way back. We don’t want any trouble.” Too bad sweetheart. You crossed over into troubleville two days ago when you had your face in between your sister’s legs soaking up her sex sunshine, crying and not feeling one ounce of guilt, and your tour of troubleville is gonna get a whole lot worse. On your left you’ll see ball bat village. On your right is drunk man heights, and up ahead is rapetown surrounded by the beautiful blood and ripped skin lake. Oh sweet Jeanie. Sweet sister pussy mouth Jeanie. There’s a big surprise waiting for you at then of the tour. You’ll never sleep agai-

Jeanie could see their cabin in the distance over the big boys shoulder amongst the shadows and sporadic rays of sun in the dark forest. The sound of footsteps crunching against dried leaves and sticks could be heard coming up behind them. It startled Ella, making her turn around quickly. What scared her more than the sight of the man in the distance walking toward her and Jeanie like a demon hellbent on angelblood, was the duel laughs of the greasy fat and skinny man in front of them. It was a laugh that said there was no getting out of this dreadful situation and that the degenerates had found something that they’re going to enjoy terrorizing, be it with a ball bat, crowbar or a pimple lined penis shaft. Ella turned around facing the laughing men. She got a good view of the skinny man’s yellow stained teeth. She imagined his breath would be rather vile. Instinctively Ella ran and Jeanie stood frozen like some odd forest statue. The skinny drunk snatched up Ella. His lanky arms wrapped themselves around her waist. She screamed high and loud and kicked her feet up towards the high pine trees. No one would hear her screams. They were only masked by the roar of the surrounding falls where families were just now settling down for lunch with their kids to enjoy nature’s beauty and enjoy a fucking coke, totally unaware of the terror happening in the forest at that same moment.

Jeanie was still standing motionless with big watery eyes and an open mouth of shock. She could feel the rush of hot vomit rushing up her throat from fear and anxiety. Troubleville baby! The man in the distance lurched towards her with his arms outstretched and his hands open wide as if to capture the scared, young sixteen year old who really had to pee incredibly bad now. Her shock melted away and she started to run. As she did, everything seemed to slow down visually and audibly. The sounds of the forest made a downward roar like a Kiss record being slowed down. She saw Ella kicking and screaming in the clutches of the drunken skinny man. All she could see of her half-sister were her legs thrashing about and a mask of her brown hair in her face, all in that weird slowed down view. Jeanie glanced over her shoulder and could see the man coming up on her. It reminded her of a childhood dream of a black shape chasing after her. Rays of sun sliced through the dark greenery of the forest like knives. The sound of the falls became distant. She looked over her shoulder again in her dreamlike haze of terror and saw the man but he wasn’t a man anymore. He was a coal black demon with red eyes and dripping with black blood, holding a monster size axe. He’s coming for you Jeanie. Gonna chop off your head with that axe for that fun you had two days ago with your half-sister while mommy and daddy were away. Might even stick it in your pretty little face or your only been fucked once sixteen year old cunt.


The cold kiss of a metal ball bat went up the side of Jeanie’s head. She saw a blast of sparkling red and then felt a slow oncoming throb of pain. She fell to her knees. Big boy stood in front of her. He was laughing wildly. So was the skinny one. They put their arms around each other as if they were sloshed straight out of the bar. They said something to Jeannie but to her it sounded muffled and echo like. The skinny man got right up into her face, revealing his yellow teeth and laughing like a mental hospital escapee. She looked back at him dazed and with a line of blood falling from her nose. She heard an awful and terrifying sound coming from somewhere. It was Ella screaming. The drunk put the palm of his hand on Jeanie’s head almost in a caressing way. He pushed her down hard and her head hit the forest floor with a dull thud. She looked up and could see the men standing over her laughing and spitting tobacco juice. Those rays of light poking through the trees began to flicker out like a dying light bulb. And then the forest went black.



Before Jeanie could open her eyes the smell hit her first. It was a heavy, thick odor, almost woodsy like. She tried to open her eyes but they felt stuck together. Her head was throbbing from the force of the ball bat up against her head. As she began to regain consciousness she could hear the muffled sound of people talking and laughing. That wood like smell crept up on her once again but she smelled something else with it. Jeanie was unsure what the second mystery odor was but it was making her nauseas. Along with the vile smells, it felt extremely hot. The laughing people she was hearing was becoming clearer and louder. Then she thought she heard a sharp squeal from somewhere. That high pitched squeal tore her locked eyelids wide open and that’s when she saw her sister Ella being raped by the greasy men from the forest. Still disoriented and confused Jeanie scanned the room from her position on the floor. She was lying on her side so everything had a sideways view. Slowly she turned herself onto her other side. In the corner she saw a man completely naked and curled up into a corner. He was chained to the floor and Jeanie could see these strange, brown streaks all over his body. He was sobbing. Jeanie gazed up towards the ceiling, listening to the sobs of the naked man and her sister being gang raped; although she didn’t know that’s what was happening at the moment. Sickeningly amongst her slumber, those high squeals reminded her of her and Ella pleasing each other on the floor two days ago. Jeanie slowly sat up and put her hands on her head, rubbing her forehead to alleviate throbbing. Things were coming into view and smells became more robust. Then it all hit her at once as the memory of the big boy smacking her upside the head with the ball bat flashed in her mind and when she realized there was a naked and decapitated women lying on the floor in front of her who also had those weird brown streaks all over her. Jeanie jolted off the floor as if waking from a sleep walking episode. She frantically looked around the room and realized she was in some kind of wooden shack or cabin. Despite her terror it reminded her of an old wooden house from the 1800’s; one that she maybe saw on a field trip to some Amish village when she was in sixth grade. She gawked disgustingly at the dead naked women, then at the naked man chained to the floor. Ella’s scream broke Jeanie’s vision of the dead and tortured. Jeanie turned her head almost twisting her neck in the process and faced her sister. Jeanie screamed and covered her mouth as she sat up onto her knees. She noticed there were three sets of windows in the shack. The sun was blazing through them so bright that she could see dust particles floating about clear as snow. Jeanie also noticed the look on her sister’s face. Ella was on top of a wooden table. She was facing Jeanie. The demon man from Jeanie’s haunted vision in the forest was behind Ella inserting himself into her from behind. Ella’s fingernails dug deep into the table she was bent over. Jeanie could only look on in distraught shock and terror. It was as if she suddenly lost her voice and couldn’t speak. The other greasy men stood at the sides of the wooden table, fondling themselves and looking on with sick curiosity at Ella’s bare bottom. She still had her top on. She more than likely bought it at the gap in the mall that time her and Jeanie went shopping because they wanted some new clothes and earrings and other shit that teenage girls like to get when they’re fucking their boyfriends on Friday nights while their parents suck down caviar and piss champagne and-

Ella moaned and Jeanie was still motionless in her shock statue. Ella continued moaning and did that occasional squeal. But still, there was that look on Ella’s face that froze her sixteen year old half-sister to the floor of the stinking wooden shack. It wasn’t a look of terror because of what was happening to her or a look of pain or discomfort. Jeanie’s eye’s welled up with warm tears and felt a blackness in her gut she had never felt before as she watched the man fucking Ella, and that look on Ella’s face indicating she was loving every minute of it. You dirty little shit! Ella squealed again. It startled Jeanie out of her daze. Ella grit her teeth together and dug her fingernails deeper into the wooden table. They drugged her, yeah that’s what it is. They gave her something to make her relax and enjoy what they’re doing to her. No wait, she’s in survival mode. She’s physicing herself out, she’s just going with it. Oh dear Ella it’ll be over soon….. Jeanie’s mind race for an explanation but her train of thought was derailed when Ella let out a long and wretched screeching sound through her grit teeth indicating she was climaxing. Jeanie felt a pang of unbelievable hurt and disgust, because she knew that her sister was enjoying it, despite their love making session from two days ago when they had their faces buried into each other and despite what this horrendous situation really was: rape. Jeanie with dismayed eyes looked on as the men beside Ella continued stroking themselves, yelling out obscenities, encouraging there brother or whoever the fuck he was to get that snatch good and hard. Jeanie wanted to throw up. She no longer saw the face of her younger half-sister; the face she grew to love and couldn’t be without. Instead she saw Ella’s face form into some kind of witch like appearance with her eyes slanting up sharply and her face flushed to a warm red. Sorry sweetheart but your little half sis’ is really digging this. Get a good listen. Look at her Jeanie with her little witching face all contorted into some evil sex fiend, watch Jeanie, watch her, watch her….. It took every ounce of will for Jeanie not to become aroused by the look on Ella’s face. Go cry to your rich daddy Jeanie. Tell him Ella’s not playing nice and that she’s fucking the greasy mechanic looking hillbilly from the forest. Of all the day’s events that have happened thus far, (being stalked in the forest, getting hit in the head with the baseball bat, seeing the decapitated woman) that evil witches mask of teeth grinding hate sex on Ella’s face is what scared Jeanie the most. Years after this horrendous ordeal, Jeanie would forget that terrible look on her sister’s face but it would revisit her eighteen years later, popping into her head for no reason when she was giving birth to her first child.

Jeanie suddenly felt something warm rushing down the back of her legs as she stood on her knees watching her half-sis being raped and fucking loving it. She curiously looked down with confusion and saw that her shorts were completely wet. Her pent up fear induce pee from earlier finally released itself. A puddle started to form under her all around her knees. The big boy with his dick in his hand let out a long ‘whooo’ like he stumbled upon a v8 engine that ran on mountain dew and couldn’t wait to tell the rest of his hillbilly friends.

“Whooo, looks what we got hur, shoot. Dumb girl pissin’ all over hurself!”

The skinny man let out a sick and creepy laugh that seemed to go on forever. The greasy older hillbilly who was fucking Ella from behind forcefully smacked her bottom grabbing a full chunk of her. He pulled her up off the table and threw her down hard on the floor. A red grease filled shop rag hung in his back pocket. He took it and wiped his sweaty forehead. He spit out a mouthful of brown tobacco spit just as he stroked himself in one hard upward stroke. He licked the side of his filthy hand with a smile on his face from the taste of Ella. He pointed his finger at Jeanie and said, “Yer next, come eer!” The fat and skinny man closed in on her. She retreated but they grabbed her legs and drug her to the wooden table. It broke Ella’s heart when she heard her scream in terror. She could hear the frantic, desperation in her voice. “No, no, no!” Jeanie begged. “My dear sweet Jeanie. You can’t handle this.” Ella thought. The big boy picked up Jeanie and threw her over his shoulder just as he did in the forest. As he lifted her, she caught a glimpse of Ella standing in front of her with that twisted, witching, scary mask of sex on her face. He threw Jeanie down on the table and ripped her shorts open, pulling them down along with her panties to her knees. The three men crowded around her like doctor’s preparing to do surgery. She was bent over the table with her feet still on the floor and her chest flat on the table.

“Wait!” Jeanie cried out.

A unified grunt came from the forest men at the sound of her young voice. They looked up and their eyes were insane with rage from being interrupted from what they were about to do.

“Please, wait. Let me stay with her. Please. I’ll let you have me again.” Ella’s voice was on the verge of breaking down into a cry but she kept it together.

“Whutever, suit yerself. But don’t think about backin’ out of that promise, ya hear!” The big boy told her with mean hateful eyes.

Ella was standing directly in front of Jeanie as she was making her plea to stay with her sister during her rape so she wouldn’t have to go through it alone. What are sister’s for. Jeanie could smell Ella’s sweat and sex rolling off her body. The older hillbilly in the blue shirt was preparing himself for Jeanie. He stood behind her pulling her arms back with one hand and fondling her mouth with his other.

Ella tucked her hair behind her ear and kneeled down in front of Jeanie. She kissed her on the forehead. Sshhh. Ella whispered, “It’s ok Jeanie, I’m right here,” just as the hillbilly behind Jeanie inserted himself into her. She squint her eyes shut and let out a closed mouth scream that was full of humiliation. Ella stroked Jeanie’s hair and continued that motherly sshhh. Jeanie fell into a zone. She opened her eyes and focused on her sister as the thrusts became harder from behind. She felt no pain and didn’t even notice the Eagles Peaceful easy feeling playing on the thin and tinny sounding radio in the corner. As she gazed into Ella’s eyes she saw that the witching face had disappeared and was replaced by that innocent- all is good in the world, make a wish on a falling star-face. Jeanie drifted further and further away by the soothing sound of Ella’s voice guiding her through her rape. Soon she wouldn’t hear anything at all but just a continuous high pitched ring; the kind you might her after a Slayer concert. Ella’s calming ‘sshh’ morphed into the heavy rushing sound of the falls in Jeanie’s mind. And that’s when she saw herself laying lazily inside a midsize canoe, floating high above a meadow of yellow dandelions. She was at one end of the canoe sunken down low with her arms dangling over the edge. Ella was at the other end of the canoe wearing a white dress. Jeanie slowly sat up and Ella smiled at her with that pure, innocent look on her face.

“We’re free now Jeanie. It’s safe up here. The falls will lead us to a better place.”

The sound of rushing water was becoming clearer and more defined to Jeanie. She looked all around her. Puffy white clouds floated by her. There were stars in the sky as well; the same stars one would see on a clear night in spring but very much alive and sparkling with bright beauty in Jeanie’s lucid, midafternoon hallucination. The dreamy suspended feeling of being up high in the sky along with the slow and relaxing pull of the canoe was mesmerizing. A soft, warm brush of air blew through Jeanie’s hair. Ella was still smiling as if she too was enjoying the blissful, warm spring ride in the sky. Ella looked down into the field of yellow flowers. Jeanie followed her sister’s eyes and gazed downward also. She saw herself and Ella running through the meadow holding hands. A euphoric feeling came over Jeanie when she saw the sweet image of innocence far below. The sound of the falls was getting closer. Jeanie felt elated and utterly happy.

“The falls will lead us to a better place Jeanie,” Ella said once again.

In the distance Jeanie saw what appeared to be standing water in the middle of the meadow. It was a lake.

“I love you Jeanie,” Ella said in her dreamy, slow motion like voice. Her voice seemed to dance with the warm wind.

“Look,” Ella said.

The sister’s looked over the canoe and down into the meadow. There, Jeanie saw her and Ella running through the brush of yellow dandelions, laughing. But the image of haunted dreams past showed itself down in the meadow and it was carrying a monster size axe. Jeanie inhaled a deep breath of horror at the bloody sight of the demon from the forest. It swung its axe high and droplets of ruby red blood showered the yellows flowers. Unbeknownst to the sisters, they were a lightning second away from deaths bloody kiss. Jeanie up in the canoe started waving her hands wildly and screaming at herself at Ella far below. They kept on running towards the lake but with deaf ears, not hearing the screams from above. In the canoe, Jeanie looked at Ella with terror and desperation. Ella just smiled back with her sweet and young innocence almost as if it was their fate. The demon was getting closer to the girls down below. They were almost to the lake and Jeanie above in the canoe could clearly see that the lake was made of blood. The demon was almost right behind them and the girls jumped into the bloody lake. Their bodies were coated and drenched in the red gore as they floated towards a large waterfall going over the edge of the meadow. Jeanie up in the canoe saw her and Ella down below embrace each other and engage in a slow, bloody kiss. Jeanie looked on in horror as she watched herself and Ella kissing in the lake of blood. And then down in the meadow, a young, blood drenched Ella turned her eyes to Jeanie high up in the canoe and whispered, “He’s coming for you Jeanie.” And blew her a kiss. Jeanie up in the canoe let out a frightful, chocked cry as she covered her mouth in sick terror. Ella sitting on the other end of the canoe cocked her head sideways and her eyes fell back into her head. She began to speak but it wasn’t her voice. It was her mother’s. And she spoke to Jeanie.

Jeanie, this is your Mother. The devil man is coming for you Jeanie. Do you see him down there? He saw what you did last week and how you took advantage of your sister and bathed yourself in lust and incest. Did she taste good in your mouth, you little whoring witch! You make me sick. You are not my daughter. You are beyond dead to me. May you drown in a river of guilt for the rest of your life. He’s getting closer Jeanie. He’s going to chop off every one of your limbs!

Just as the girls down below in the bloody lake rushed over the edge of the falls, Ella in the canoe sharply jolted her head straight up as bloody tears fell from her inverted eyes. Jeanie screamed. Ella hissed long and wretched like a witch, “The falls will lead ussss to a better plaaaccceee!”

She laughed maniacally and dropped to the floor of the canoe. She dashed on all fours like a possessed animal towards Jeanie. Her blood streaked face came rushing fast at Jeanie.




“Shh” Ella hushed to Jeanie in the cabin. “Almost done.” She said quietly. Jeanie felt something warm hit her back and heard a horrible grunting sound. They were done with her. The entire time she stared blankly into Ella’s eyes, watching the dreamy, bloody daydream of floating canoes in the sky and demons in a field and a lake of blood, but now reality had come home and she began quietly cry to herself. Big boy grabbed Jeanie by her buttocks and pulled her up off the table. He threw her down onto the floor. Ella, naked and smelling of filthy sex, went to her defiled sister. She cried and put her body over Jeanie as if to protect her.

“All right gurl. Get up hur, C’mon now!”

Ella had to keep her promise of letting the men have her again. And they did. When they were done the fingernail scratched surface of the wooden table was saturated with blood. Ella’s blood.


An hour later, Ella lay flat on her back in the middle of the shack staring coldly at the ceiling, not saying a word after her rape. The big boy went to her and settled his hulking body on top of hers. His huge, fat knees pushed hard onto her shoulders, pinning her to the floor.

“What are you going to do to her?” Jeanie asked in a trembling, horrified voice. “She’s bleeding down there. Please no more.” Her eyes flooded with tears as she chocked backed her sobs.

“Shut yer trap girl!” Big boy barked.

The skinny man was rummaging through some clutter of junk in the corner of the cabin.

“Would you hurry the fuck up Scag! I wanna get to that skinny dippin’,” the fat hillbilly said to him.

The skinny man responded, “All right, jesus!”

“You dumb fucks!” The old man in the open blue shirt yelled at the other two. “No names shit for brains! Remember, I said no goddam names!” He spit tobacco juice onto the floor and went to whack the big boy upside the head all while Ella lay motionless under his sweaty mass of a body.

“All right, all right, sorry, let’s just get on with it.”

Get on with what? Jeanie’s mind overflowed with fear. Please god, don’t let them hurt her anymore. Dear god what are they going to do?

“Whooo buddy, der she is, lookit!” The skinny man said sounding almost rejoiced.

The fat hillbilly still with his fat body on top of Ella smiled wide, showing his yellow and crooked teeth. The old man lowered his eyes to Ella. She was looking back at him with her lips quivering from fear. Her heart felt like it was in her throat.

The old man said, “Oh, were gonna have some fun now. You sit really tight now, ya hear pumpkin.” He began to laugh and then the rest of backwoods fucks joined him. Then, Jeanie’s eyes blew up wide at what she saw. In Scag’s hand was a bulky looking piece of machinery that roofer’s find very handy and a necessity in their work. A nail gun.

“I’m gonna stick it in her pus,” the skinny man licked his lips and began walking towards Ella. “Hur I come now.”

Jeanie screamed. And then the fat man started screaming to, mocking her terror.

“For Christ sakes they’re just kids!” The man in the corner with the mysterious brown stains all over his body suddenly said.

“Shut yer fuckin’ pie hole old man!” The skinny man shouted.

Amongst all the fear and anxiety and screaming in the hot, smelly shack, the old man in the blue shirt perked up as if a thought had popped into his mind.

“Now hang on a minute. The man may have a point,” he said looking cautiously at the other two hillbillies’, and then, “I have an idea. YOU!” He shouted and pointed at Jeanie. It startled her making her jump. The room was dead silent for a moment and then he said, “Shit in her mouth,” followed by a cunning smile that revealed his half toothless mouth.

Jeanie felt hot and shaky and could feel her lunch from earlier rising in her throat at what she heard. She stood there in the cabin, silent, frightened.

“I said shit in her fuckin’ mouth!” He barked.

A disgusted, morbid frown formed on Jeanie’s face as she turned head slowly back and forth telling the greasy, toothless hillbilly, “I will not.” And then she broke out into a cry.

The greasy man went to grab the nailgun. He put it to Jeanie’s forehead with force. She cringed and whined a high pitch scream through her teeth. The other men started to laugh.

“Go on. Move!” The old man said and he began guiding her to Ella.

“Please for the love of god, they’re just kids!” The stained and chained man on the floor pleaded.

“I thought I told you to shut your goddam pie hole!” He triggered the nail gun and shot a nail at the man but luckily missed. He positioned it back on Jeanie’s forehead forcing her to defecate in her sister’s mouth. And that’s when Jeanie realized what those brown streaks were on the man chained to the floor and on the decapitated woman in the corner.

Suddenly Ella spoke, but not without chocked and stuttered sobs. “It’s ok Jeanie. I can take it. It’ll be ok. Just do as they say.”

Jeanie all of a sudden felt like she was truly going crazy and wanted to scream and rip her hair out because of the dreadful situation and Ella’s calm logic and demeanor. Her mind whirled out of control.

You can’t be that strong Ella. Why are you so brave and I am so weak?

As much as Jeanie loved Ella, she couldn’t get over how mature Ella was at times and how amazing her resilience was as a person. She almost hated her for it. Jeanie often wondered if Ella knew how she felt. Growing up it was as if Jeanie was the younger sister and Ella was the oldest. Even at puberty Ella developed shapely curves and Jeanie was still straight. And Ella’s insatiable sexual appetite at such a young age sometimes frightened Jeanie; how does a fourteen year old turn out that way, Jeanie thought late at night in her bed. Already Ella has had three sexual partners and Jeanie only one. Despite all of this the sister’s couldn’t hide their love for one another. And now Jeanie was getting ready to do the unthinkable for just that reason. Because she loves Ella and wanted both of them to get out of this alive.

Jeanie knew she didn’t have to ‘go’ even though she ate just two hours ago. The backwoods fucks weren’t going to let up either and she knew it. With the nail gun to her forehead, she positioned herself above Ella. The greasy man nudged at her head with the giant piece of machinery. With tears streaming down her face, she slowly squatted down over Ella’s face. She could feel Ella’s breath on her anus. It came in quick, scared breaths. Jeanie squeezed hard and released a small puff of gas into her sister’s mouth. Ella gagged. Jeanie broke out into a pathetic sounding sob of defeat, because she had no bowels to release into her sister’s mouth at the vile request of the men from the forest. And she knew because of that, both she and Ella were going to die from a three inch piece of metal being forged into their brains or somewhere else. “Oh my god. I just killed my sister because I can’t shit! I’m a failure! I’m a fucking…….”

And that’s when Ella heard that first hellish scream from the forest. A haunting tone that would make her sleep with one eye open for the next three years until she finally shut it out with the help of Jack Daniels and Xanax. “Scream it out Jeanie; just scream out what you heard all those years ago. Go ahead, get it out of our mind,” is what her shrink told her when she was twenty. Although the shrink would finally cease her treatment when Jeanie was twenty one and had found the love of her life. His name was Derek. But for now in the present, she heard something out there in the forest. So did Ella. And so did the greasy, back woods rapists with a knack for terrorizing humans with games of shit and bloody rape.

Those games ceased.

The horrific screeching sounded to Jeanie like one thousand woman screaming in a sheet metal lined closet; shrill, brash, piercing and very loud. No one said a word. They were all frozen statues, pinned to the floor. The hell screech echoed again across the forest then finding its way into the cabin. Each hillbilly looked at one another. Jeanie could see the fear in their eyes. The big boy pulled himself up from Ella. She was relieved to have his girth removed from her body. The skinny man put his first finger to his mouth motioning a ‘sshh’ gesture. He silently mouthed the words “It’s junior” to the other greasy hillbilly’s. They shook their heads in agreement. Finally the old man in the blue shirt and khaki pants, the one who was willing to put a nail through Jeanie’s forehead only just a few minutes ago said, “How in the hell did he get out. It ain’t feedin’ time yet boys.” The big boy shook his head slowly and said, “No it ain’t. How the hell did he get loose?” The screech sounded again chilling Jeanie’s bones and soul. Ella sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in between her legs. Jeanie went to her and held her. Feeding time? What the hell is happening? Jeanie thought with a small burst of panic. The men huddled together in the middle of the cabin. They motioned to each other without saying anything. To Jeanie they looked like football players do when they’re all hunched over setting up there play. Then suddenly the screech hit their ears again and it was very loud and much, much closer. The greasy old man positioned himself next to the door with the nail gun firmly in his hand. Jeanie and Ella lay in each other’s arms looking on with scared eyes and terror in their thoughts. All Jeanie could see through the dirty glass window of the door was a mess of dark, green shrubbery and weeds, all faintly lit by the rays of the sun. But then something moved out there in the haunting green. Jeanie caught a glimpse of something big move its way through the trees, but had no idea of what it was. Then the old man stomped his foot on the wooden floor of the cabin. It made the girls jump. He said, “Come and get it junior. Come and get your snack. C’mon now, don’t be shy.” He glanced with hate in his eyes at the girls and laughed. The sisters tightened their grip around each other. And then Jeanie did see something through the window; something gigantic and grey. “C’mon junior!” The old man said again. The last thing Jeanie did see before the unknown thing crashed through the door of the cabin was a pair of giant, greyish looking bird wings. A violent shower of glass and wood exploded in front of Jeanie and Ella. It hit the floor making a sharp, shattering sound. Jeanie finally saw the thing that was making the shrieking tone from the forest in all its horrid glory that could turn her dreams black. Was it human? Was it an animal, or a bird? Its pallid grey, hulk of a body had monstrous sized black wings joined to its upper back. It screeched again and expanded them. Behold, this eerie, man beast bird thing, wild Kentucky brother. An ancient inbred nightmare from a tainted southern past, and manifestation of old southern lore as told by old men sitting in rocking chairs on log cabin porches from ages ago. What was this winged, bird human hybrid mess of Satan’s creation? The bird man’s body had a sickly, greyish tone and its skin looked as if it had hung out in the bathtub to long with its wrinkled skin. It had large oversized feet that looked like a birds feet. Its legs were skinny, and bony like a birds as well. Its face was narrow and deformed and had a cone shaped skull with just a few strands of stringy black hair on top. Its pointy chin almost formed into a V. But the thing that Jeanie couldn’t help but notice about this hideous creature was its extremely long phallus which just about touched the cabin floor. A bush of black hair surrounded it at the top. It reminded her of watching those sausage factory documentaries in school. And those giant fucking black wings!

“Junior!” The old greasy man yelled.

Yes indeed it was junior and he wasn’t here for his evening meal but for the blood of his brethren. No more would their inbred brother be confined to its moldy, wet cave of a prison where they had it chained, much like the shit covered man in the corner. The thing wanted their blood and now. It shrieked again. The volume of its shriek broke the glass on one of the windows.

“Take it easy now junior,” the fat man said in a scared shitless voice. “Go on and get yer dinner right over there.” He pointed to the girls. The bird man glanced slowly at the girls and then back to its fat fuck brother from Kentucky. Its mind was made up as it lurched with hunger and hate in its bulging eyes towards the fat man. Just as it towered over his shaking brother the feeling of a sharp piece of metal shot through its back. The old man in khaki pants shot a nail from his trusty nail gun into the bird man. A screech of pain tore from its deformed mouth but then it reached behind and slowly pulled out the nail. Forgetting about the fat brother, the bird man went in for the kill stomping towards the old man. It shrieked into his face. Ghastly spittle projected onto the old man. The bird man gripped its long, boney fingers around its brother’s neck and squeezed all while lifting him up almost to the ceiling. Jeanie looked on in horrified yet amazed eyes at what she was seeing. The creature tightened its grip until finally the old man’s neck had separated from his body. A loud, heavy plop sound was made when the he crashed to the floor; his shirt soaked in his own blood from it overflowing from his wide open neck. The thing turned and made its way toward the girls. As if by instinct both Ella and Jeanie sprouted up quickly from the floor and retreated back away from the hideous grey colored bird beast, as far as they could get. The fat brother positioned himself behind its strange, inbred half man half-brother and aimed the nail gun at its head. He pulled the trigger three times on the handy roofer’s tool but the poor fat bastard missed. Instead of them going through the bird man’s skull like he intended, the lightning fast speed of the nails drove themselves into Ella’s smooth stomach. She formed an O expression of shock, but mostly disbelief on her face. Her hands cupped around the nails sticking out of her belly. She looked down to the floor. Her brown hair fell around her face like a curtain closing on this bloody horror show. She fell backwards into Jeanie who was standing right behind her. It was a slow descent to the floor for both sisters. The bird man stood there looking curiously, almost sympathetically at the girls as he cocked its head to the side. Jeanie’s eyes became flooded with tears as she put her arms around her dying sister. The nails were lodged deep into her gut. Blood spilled out of her at an even flow. She was going to die in the hot as fuck hell hole that stunk of blood and shit. Jeanie stood up, but she didn’t know why. Maybe she wanted the bird man to come after her and kill her so she wouldn’t have to see her sister die. Or maybe she wanted to run and scratch out the fat fuck brother’s eyes and rip out his heart for killing Jeanie, but instead she said morbidly, “Come and feed, I’m right here. This is what this is all about anyway right? We’re fucking lunch!” The room started spinning. It was all too much: getting hit in the head with a ball bat in the forest, waking up in a stuffy, hot cabin to the sounds of Ella being raped and loving it, her evil witches face, Jeanie being raped, this weird bird, creature thing, that fucking bloody demon and his giant axe. Her legs were shaky and then they gave way. She collapsed to the floor next to her near dead sister.

When Jeanie woke her vision was blurry. Everything was hazy as if she was looking through an out of focus camera lens. All she could hear was that awful screeching of the bird man and the screams of his brothers. May they die an awful death, she thought. Jeanie did not hear Ella and that’s when the terrible reality and memory of what happened minutes ago hit her. Amongst the screaming and bad vision she felt a wave a sadness and pain wash over her. “Ella’s gone,” Jeanie said softly.

Something soft and white floated downward from out of nowhere in front of Jeanie’s face. She thought ‘snow’ I’m losing my mind. It’s snowing in this cabin born of hell. More white shapes began falling all around her. She put her tongue out to catch a piece of snow. It wasn’t snow. And she wasn’t losing her mind. They were feathers. The hideous bird man’s feathers. Now within all the screaming was a racket of banging and glass breaking. Her vision became clearer and she could see to her horror that it was the bird man who was losing its mind rather than her. The large table (the one the greasy men raped her and Ella on) had been broken in half. A window was broken. The bird man had decided to take its frustrations out on the cabin. Then he would tear apart his Kentucky brethren.

The remaining brothers lay on their backs, one in each corner of the cabin with their hands up pleading for their lives as the bird man destroyed the cabin in a feathery rage. Once the creature was finished with its fit of rage, it stood between its brothers as if pondering which one to kill first. Jeanie’s sight had come back fully and she saw Ella lying on the floor. She had died from the nail gun wounds. The bird man took Ella by her arm and lifted her dead body over its shoulder. Then Jeanie heard a voice coming from behind her. “She’s gone kid. I’m so sorry but your sister is dead. Get out of here now. Go on, save yourself. Go, go!” The shit stained man chained to the floor spoke wearily with his eyes closed and his head leaning against the wall. He sounded out of breath like he ran ten miles straight. Hyperventilation took over his body because he knew he was next on the bird man’s list. In unbelievable shock, Jeanie slowly stood up and almost buckled over but she kept her balance. She crept to the door. She gave one last look at Ella hanging like a sack of potatoes over the angry creatures shoulder. She covered her mouth in grief and cried. As she sobbed the bird man went in for the fat man and that’s when she made her move. She had to get out of there. Ella was dead, but Jeanie could make it out alive. You’ll have a lifetime of nightmares honey, but you will be alive. The bird man was to occupied and hungry to even notice or hear her stepping through the demolished doorway. She stepped out of hell and into the forest.

She started down what looked to be a makeshift dirt path. Probably made by the fucks that had brought her and Ella to the cabin to be raped and made into dinner for their inbred bird brother. She walked awkwardly with her arms spread out to keep her balance. She looked like a drunken girl leaving the bar, confident that she is ok. Behind her the sound of screaming, screeching and glass shattering filled the forest. She never once turned around.

Jeanie stumbled through the woods finally making her way up a hill filled with heavy weeds and thorny shrubbery. Her ankles were scratched and bleeding. At the top of the hill she could see blackened pavement through the trees. It didn’t seem near as sunny as earlier because of increasing clouds, but it was still very hot. She felt a surge of relief at the sight of the road and let out a much needed cry, for she hadn’t shed a tear since escaping from the cabin in hell. Breathing heavily she exited the forest and stood on the edge of the road with a solid white line at her feet. Everything was so very quiet except for the distant sound of some birds singing, (normal birds, not the horrific bird man). She felt cold all of a sudden and then realized she was naked from the waist down. She only had her cream colored white top on. Shock had numbed all her senses. It was as if she was just now coming around, truly realizing her predicament. She covered her pubic area and began walking still unsteadily on the side of the road in the grass. Her body language and the way she walked suggested she had just gotten out of the shower and was traipsing embarrassingly in front of her dad, trying to get a towel.

A soft voice from somewhere in her mind suddenly spoke to her. It said: “The falls will lead us to a better place.” Somehow Jeanie knew she was on the same road that her and her parents were on earlier; the road leading to Merskashitonia Falls. She had known this road since she was a kid. The curves gave it away. She felt a little relieved knowing where she was at and then remembered the Motley Crue song she was listening to, God bless the children of the beast as her parents drove along the winding road and how she looked at Ella sitting next to her with eyes that said, “I love you Jeanie.” But things were becoming foggy. A black fear went through her when she remembered the screeching bird man thing and the atrocious things done to her and Ella by the hands of the bird man’s brothers. It all came rushing toward her like a cold and mean tidal wave of unfairness and pain. She moaned out loud and came to a stop. The world in front of her started spinning and spinning and spinning. She collapsed, falling face down in the grass on the side of the road, ending her strange and tragic afternoon.



She awoke three hours later in a hospital bed. The flickering of light by a doctor flashing a light in her eyes rattled her senses and she woke abruptly. Her parents were standing at the side of her bed holding her hands. Their eyes were red and puffy from crying. Jeanie noticed this first when she finally started to wake up. At first she was groggy with confusion and then Ella’s innocent face popped into her mind. Then the hysterics came. She bolted up in her bed and began screaming for Ella. “Ella, Ella! Where’s Ella!’ The on call doctor had to page another doctor to help subdue her. Jeanie’s mother burst into tears at the sight of her manic daughter. She herself had her own hysterics episode. Her husband went to her and she buried her grief stricken face into his chest and screamed. A nurse entered the room and quickly ushered her parents out assuring them that their daughter would be ok. As far as the fate of their other daughter Ella, police had told the terrified parents upon arriving at the hospital that she was missing. Her body was nowhere to be found. You know what happened to your little sister don’t you Jeanie. That thing swung her over its shoulder and probably took her back to its cave to eat her dead young body. Back in the room Jeanie was being held down by two doctors and a nurse. The on call doctor manually and forcefully gave her a strong sedative. They held her down until she stopped fighting and became drowsy. She drifted away in a dark and silent sleep.



It was dark, total dark. Jeanie was on her back but she was not afraid. The smell of sex was all around her. She could feel the soft skin of another human on top of her. Still she couldn’t see a thing because of the pitch blackness surrounding her. Am I dreaming? Or is this is this another real life nightmare? She thought. Then like a fading in scene of a movie, a creamy white buttocks and the slit of a female was right in front of Jeanie’s face. The rich odor of sex seemed to hang in the air like a damp blanket on a clothes line in spring. She heard moaning sounds from somewhere far off. She recognized them as being Ella’s. Without hesitation Jeanie devoured the female in front of her knowing that it was her sister. She suctioned her mouth over her vagina and drove her tongue deep inside her. A gush of warm sex rushed down her throat. It tasted sweet. It was ecstasy. But all good things must come to an end they say and good dreams shall turn to nightmares. Jeanie removed her face from her sister. From Ella’s rectum arced a narrow line of blood sprouting out like a weak water fountain. The thin line of blood splashed onto Jeanie’s nose and dripped down over her lips and onto her neck. The arc of blood became wider and more forceful until it was a full on gush of blood rushing out of Ella’s anus. The blood flood splattered Jeanie in the face drenching it entirely. As the anal bloodbath continued Jeanie saw something exit from Ella’s rectum. It looked to be worms as there were four or five tubular looking objects coming out of her. But they weren’t worms. They were fingers. It was a hand. It grabbed a chunk of Ella’s bloodied rump and pulled itself out farther. Soon there was an arm and then a head and then and entire naked, bloody body; Ella’s body. Jeanie screamed but was immobilized to the floor unable to move. She had no choice but to witness this nightmare. Ella, who was coated entirely in warm blood, stood and faced Jeanie. She spoke. “Why did you let that thing take me away Jeanie? Why didn’t you save me Jeanie?” Then Ella pulled a three inch nail from her stomach and then lowered her head to her chest making her hair fall in front of her like a bloody curtain. She raised her arms, stretching them outward. Big, black wings sprung out from her back. Her head rose up and her bloody brown hair fell away from her face revealing the witches face that terrorized Jeanie during the hatefuck rape at the cabin. An explosion of fire blew up behind Ella as she flapped her black wings. Her eyes fell back into her head and she spoke the words: “The falls will lead us to a better place!” It was wretched and sounded more like a slow, agonizing scream. A voice boomed from somewhere. “Come and get yer dinner junior!” Jeanie, still stuck to the floor in her nightmare, clearly saw the old man from the cabin dragging the bird man from a chain that was wrapped tight around its neck. He was pulling it closer to her so the hideous thing could feed. Ella opened her mouth wide and vomited feces on her blood soaked sister and that’s when Jeanie woke up from her nightmare with the bed sheets wet with sweat. She sat up quickly but her scream was trapped in her throat. She covered her mouth and started to hyperventilate. She glanced around the dark room and saw her mother sleeping in the giant guest chair. Jeanie was relieved to see her mother but still had that cold chill after effect from her nightmare. She sat there in her wet bed sheets for about ten minutes scared to even move. Her heart rate finally slowed down and she felt a little better. She covered her face but did not cry, only rubbed her forehead as to relieve tension from her nightmare. She looked again around the dark room. On the wall a big red digital clock displayed 2a.m. She laid herself back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Somehow she had forgotten about those greasy men from the forest and their stink and crooked yellow teeth. Amazingly she had forgotten about the rapes also, and the degrading acts she and her sister were put through. She had forgotten about these things because she was sure that the thing she saw in the cabin- man, bird, beast, thing, whatever the fuck it was- was there to kill her for what she and Ella had done two days before while their parents were gone. It was the same as the demon in her mind chasing her through the shadowy kingdom of trees with blood dripping from its axe, trying to kill her. She turned to her side and pulled the covers up close to her chin. She couldn’t sleep. She was to afraid even though her mom was right there in the room with her, sleeping and lightly snoring in the guest chair. But there was something else in the room too. Is there Jeanie? Or is it just in your head? She heard the awful hell screech of the bird man playing like a continuous record in her mind. That tune of horror would become her lullaby. She cupped her ears and squint her teary eyes as she laid frozen stiff in her bed. She slept with one eye open that night and would for the next three years. She thought of Ella speaking the words, “The falls will lead us to a better place Jeanie,” and she felt a shade safer, but yet the sound of death was so close and the sound of the falls was so very far away.


















Daniel never believed in the devil, even when his reverend uncle had him locked up in his barn in the summer of 1954 beating him with a brown leather strap, screaming in his face, “You got the devil shine in ya’ boy. Your glowin’ black all over. I can see it. Jesus Christ lord! Cast this devil out and far away!”

Twenty years later Daniel stood in front of his bathroom mirror in the dark long after midnight with a blood smeared chest and his family slaughtered out in the living room; an arm here, a leg there. The moon peeked through the curtains shining its ghost like shine on their blood shine and Daniels black devil shine whirled around him as the truth of his uncle’s words shown through his coal black eyes.


















The flesh and blood of John Henry





John Henry watched his daughter kill a horse with her bare hands and then tear its stomach open and feast on its innards. He’d been stumped as to whom or what was killing his horses the past two Sundays. His mind drifted back to the conversation he had with local Sheriff Fred Connor two weeks ago over coffee and a feeling of urgency.

“I suppose it could be anything,” Connor said and took sip of coffee. “You wouldn’t have any enemies would you John?”

“C’mon Fred, this is serious now,” John told him in a troubled voice.

Sheriff Connor knew better than to ask his longtime friend a ridiculous question like that, knowing the kind of man John was. The truth was Sheriff Connor was just as stumped as John.

“Well, I’ll write up a report and put it on file. You want me to send one of our guys over tonight? Ya know, just to keep an eye on things.” Connor asked.

“No, no that’ll be all right Fred but thanks,” John said as he rubbed his forehead in a stressful manner.

The Sheriff took a sip of coffee and stood up. “Look John, it’s probably just some punk kids messing around. Kids around here just go off the fringes sometimes for no reason. Sounds crazy but it happens.” Just then John’s daughter walked in the kitchen. “Now this one you don’t have to worry about.” Conner smiled and lowered his hat to John’s long, brown haired seventeen year old daughter Grace. John made a hush sound to the Sheriff and walked him to the door.

“Do you really think it could be a gang or something?” John sounded like a man on his last string of hope when he asked the Sheriff.

Connor nodded his head, “To be honest John, I don’t know. I mean it’s possible but it would take one heck of a bull strong kid to rip open a horse like that.” The Sheriff made a shivering ‘brrr’ sound like he’d seen a gross out blood scene in some late night horror flick. John quietly hushed Fred again so his daughter wouldn’t hear what they were saying. Fred left.

John smiled at his daughter as he walked back into the kitchen. She smiled back. She didn’t have to say anything because she knew that another one of her Father’s horses had been killed. She was just as stumped as her Father and the Sheriff.

The next week crept slowly by like a haunted, old grandfather clock ticking in a dark room, and John was revisited every night by his reoccurring nightmare; one that involved his barn completely blood-soaked and on fire with hung upside down horse corpses dripping with blood. He would wake up in a bed of nightmare sweat and the horrific images of his dream would follow him all day long.

Now to his horror as he hid behind a bale of hay at the break of dawn on the third Sunday of May-1934, the twisted truth was revealed as he watched his daughter scoop handfuls of horse intestines into her mouth. Long tubes stinking of rotten cornmeal and feces squished between her fingers as she sucked the vile mixture down her throat. With each squeeze, blood extracted out of the intestines she was holding in her bloody hands. It trailed down her wrist like snakes crisscrossing her veins, soaking her arm and sleeve of her white night gown. Her face was a swirling mess of dark red and brown. John held his hand to his mouth trying to keep from vomiting at the sight. She stood up and began sucking and licking the gore off her fingers in a satisfied manner. Her arms rose above her head and her bloody palms came together. She began twirling around the barn doing some mad dance. John followed her as she exited the barn. He kept his distance trying not to be seen. She seemed to float across the fog covered ground as she spread out her arms and danced ballerina like across the grass. This particular image would haunt Henry’s dreams for years to come; the frightening sight of his only daughter dancing around at dawn in her bloody night gown.

She whirled herself into the wooded area behind their house and then down to the creek at the bottom of a hill. This was the same creek she and her Father would skip rocks into when she was a little girl, and where he taught her how to fish. John watched in sickening horror from behind a tree as his daughter bathed naked in the creek, ridding her body of horse excrement and blood. When she was done, she drifted back up the hill, walked through the woods, and then finally made her way up to their farmhouse where she quietly went inside, only to go upstairs and slip into her warm bed completely unaware of what she had done. John stood at the back door of the house with his hand shaking on the door handle. He stared down at the puddle of vomit that had finally made its way out of him.

His daughter woke to the sound of her door being slammed open. John came charging at her. She sat up quick in her new white night gown she had put on and screamed at the sight of her Father racing towards; his hands outstretched.

“Daddy, what are you doing?” She screamed.

“Why’d you do it? What would make you do that?” He yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Do what Daddy. What are you talking about?” She lay beneath him as he towered over her with his hands holding her shoulders down on the bed.

“What would make you kill our horses and then…then,” John howled at the ceiling, distraught with confused rage at his daughter. She cried out loud at the sound of his anguished yell at the ceiling.

“C’mon, you’re coming with me. Get up girl!” He grabbed her by her long brown hair and pulled her out of bed. Her ankle slammed hard onto the wood floor. She let out a scream of pain that sent hot tears streaming down her face. John dragged her across the floor by her hair out of her bedroom and into the hall.

“Daddy, please stop! Please! I didn’t kill our horses! Why would I do a thing like that?” She cried out to him as he stood above her. He finally fell to his knees and began crying uncontrollably with his face buried in his hands. “I saw you do it,” he said over and over again.

One week later the following Sunday, John and Grace sat across from Dr. Moore in his office at the Indiana State Mental Hospital. She had been under observation for a week at her Fathers request. There was a knock at the door and a nurse entered. Grace said her goodbyes to her Father and exited the room with the nurse, leaving John and the doctor to talk privately.

“Lovely girl you have there Mr. Henry.” The doctor kindly told John.

“Yes she is,” John proudly told the doctor. John was fidgeting with his hat lying in his lap. He was nervous about hearing the doctor’s report of Grace.

“Well I will tell you Mr. Henry from our observations, you’re daughter has shown no signs of mental illness during her stay this week. She is absolutely charming and so kind.” The doctor stood up and walked in front of his desk where he sat down on the edge. “That’s why I’m having a hard time understanding what my staff and I witnessed early this morning around three a.m.”

John looked at him in terror. There was a long pause and then he said, “Well dear god, what did you see?”

The doctor hesitated for a beat and then said, “Mr. Henry this is all very strange.” He looked out the window in his office as if trying to find a way to avoid the subject at hand.

“Doctor, please.” John said almost begging.

“Mr. Henry, we saw your daughter…” The phone suddenly rang. It made both men jump. “I’m sorry John I have to take this.”

John stepped out of the doctor’s office, seizing the opportunity to avoid hearing what the doctor had to say. He saw his daughter at the end of the hallway sitting in a large green lounge chair. John asked Grace if she remembered anything about this morning. She said she didn’t. She pleaded with him to let her go home but John stressed that it was imperative that she stayed, only for a little while longer until the doctors could figure out what was wrong. He left the hospital knowing that he would hear what the doctor had to say in time, just not now.

As he drove home the heat of the sun blazed through the windshield of his Ford. He thought of his conversation with the Sheriff again. “Look John, it’s probably just some punk kids messing around. Kids around here just go off the fringes for no reason. Sounds crazy but it happens.” “Now this one you don’t have to worry about.” John pulled up to the red barn that sat on his property across from his house. He put his head down on the steering wheel and began to cry.



20 years later, May 1954


John Henry sat in his old and beat up Ford pickup, staring out the windshield at the red barn in front of him. He already had breakfast, ran his errands, and made a visit to see his thirty seven year old daughter Grace at the Indiana State Mental Hospital. And it had been the same as it always was for the last twenty years. “Yes Mr. Henry, your daughter still wakes up at three a.m. every Sunday morning and dances around her room and has no recollection of ever doing so. And yes Mr. Henry, she still crouches on the floor beside her bed pretending to put things in her mouth.” “Mr. Henry, you know this information. It’s the same every time. John got out of his truck and began his day of caring for his horses and his farm.

Early the next morning on a Sunday he laid in his bed staring at the ceiling as dawn began to break. He thought again of what the nurse had told him and has told him every morning for the past twenty years. His mind whirled around what he would ask his daughter at every visit. “Grace honey, what are you doing? Can you tell me why you’re doing that on the floor?” He couldn’t help but wonder if his daughter was still out there dancing around in the fog in her bloody gown after all these years, or if she could be at his window smiling her bloody grin at him mouthing the words, “The devil won’t let me tell you daddy. I’m his now, caught in his web and confined by his hooves for he is my master forever and always.”















Cherry Trick thought she was slick spying on those two nice young men in their nice white shirts with straight black ties and their bibles in hand. She was just a bored stripper with a day off. Bored plus stripper equals trouble. No trouble. She just wants to have some fun. Invite the boys in. Let them woo her with their cult talk of the bad and evil in the world. Here they come ‘round they go house to house. Knock knock knock. She feels excited down below. A quick trip to the bathroom to primp, pee, comb and brush. Deodorize, perfumize, hair ties, sexy eyes. She can smell her sex through her tight, tight jeans. Blow a kiss sweet lips. Knock knock knock. “Hello boys, come on in. It’s hot outside.”

Hotter in here, even hotter in there. Her mind’s eye on the bedroom. She offered drinks. Cherry lemonade to be exact. They accepted kindly. Young mouths began to speak blindly of the lord; God this god that,Yadda yadda yadda, blah blah blah.

She shook her head, “Oh yeah, oh yeah.’’

Ok boy’s times up. She shushed them with her finger and mouthed,

Let’s fuck.”

Then that oh so familiar feeling down below, pulled at her crotch, she had to go.

“Wanna watch me pee?” She asked with a smile.

Young dumb boys go, “Duh I guess so.”

She took them buy the hand and led them to her throne. Zip zip zippity zip. Down came her tight jeans. Her ass hit the porcelain seat and sexy, female pee rushed out of her like a broken hourglass. Wide eyes and red faces masked the boys and she said, “Did you not ever see your mommy go potty when you were a little teeny totty or is you’re memory a little bit foggy?”

They did not know if they ever saw mommy go but the younger of the Christ warriors that stumbled into the home of Cherry Trick with white picture frames of Marylin Monroe along her hallway began growing and growing, bigger and bigger. The sexy girl stink of piss water and deodorant made him high, but that light female scent from between her thighs was what made him rise.

“You ok?” she winked and smiled at him.

Without one touch of his member it could have relieved itself on its own, for he felt he had grown an inch what a cinch. He began to speak, but Cherry inhaled his member in one gulp as the last of her urine drained out into the toilet. Trickle trickle trickle

“All done.”

She stood up and kissed the one she had in her mouth. Warm, smooth female hands slid across fever red cheeks of embarrassment. Her thin wrists rested on shoulders that carried the weight of guilt. The other boy had sad eyes that said “Where’s my surprise?”

“Don’t you worry,” Cherry said, “I’m gonna make you see stars when we hit the bed.” Toilet paper ripped from a round tube. Pat pat pat, pat her pussy clean. Flush flush flush. She cleared her throat and clutched her breasts. Younger boy grew again and she said, “You wanna touch’em? Go ahead get your fill.” He touched her tits and got his fill, but then she was ready and went in for the kill.“Ok boys enough touchy feely. “You wanna have me in here or in there or any fucking where?” Her mind’s eye still on the bedroom. They ended their adventure in the bedroom where they overdosed on female and full throttle female lust. Little black books and revelations were forgotten lost in a shower of orgasmic shooting stars.


The older boy heard something at first. Laughter, yes, yes that’s what is was; sounds like they were having a fit. Awakening slowly out of his slumber, he heard first and then felt second and oh what a hell of a pain it was in his neck and hard head.

“Am I dead?” he thought. No, no, just a little roughed up that’s all. And what is this on top of your head? And why are you not still in bed? And why do you feel so full of dread? Amazing and obnoxious laughter filled the unknown room in which the older Christ warrior sat in gloom. Where am I and what is going on? Finally a clear thought. And then Cherry laughed a high female cackle. It woke the other boy who she let touch her boobs and watch her pee, oh gee oh gee. The room was dark except for the light of the TV, now the boys can see all the tricks Cherry Trick had up her sleeve. Baby bonnets, XXL diapers, and hands cuffed behind their backs and mouths red ball gagged; the gags on you boys. You should have kept on walking through. Oh lord what have you boys have gotten yourselves into? Their heads ached. That fucking TV was loud, but her girl laugh was louder. Why oh why are you laughing Cherry? Seinfeld. It was her favorite show. She was back in her tight tight jeans and long black boots; her white top blood splattered. She sat lady like with her legs crossed popping popcorn in her mouth. The boys were at her side and she was in the middle. When they screamed through their ball gags it made her want to giggle. And oh how it amused her.

“Hello boys it’s me again. Did you have nice dreams?”

She put her arms around them and stretched out her legs.

“It’s ok I only drugged you and fucked you with these.”

She stood and faced them in her bloodied white top, holding two bloody dildos dripping blood on the floor. What a whore. The boys screamed even louder.

“I also masturbated on your face, sorry about the smell. I’m starting my period if you can’t tell.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed like a girl down on her luck but then she brightened putting her hands on her hips; an evil smile masked her flushed face.“Wanna watch me pee again?”

She took a slow, devilish stride towards the boys as they frantically shook their heads no in their baby bonnets and XXL diapers. She threw the younger boy on the floor, oh no oh no! His face went THUMP! And she said, “I reeeaallly gotta go!” She turned him over and unzippity zipped her tight pussy jeans. Two bubbles of flesh popped out. She squat down over his ball gagged mouth. Her knees touched in a drunk girl bowlegged kind of way. She let loose and her hot piss burned his eyes, which told no lies: Yes this is really happening to you. Glistening slimy girl stuff, slathered slick moist muff, on his face from forehead to chin, sexy slit, bloody sin. She hopped off; her pretty face he saw from above. He was in love; now just terrified, horrified, downright petrified; sick inside.

“Why so scared?” she said.

“Did you see a ghost? A holy ghost perhaps?”

Who is this person the kid thought. How did we end up here? With a pain in the anus and in these humiliating diapers she gave us.

“Hey!” she sparked. “You boys like to dance?”

In the darkness of the room and probably where the boys would meet their doom, she hit play on her pink cd player. ‘Shake it up’ by the Cars filled the living room with party rock goodtime vibes, despite terror in the boy’s eyes. Cherry jumped. Cherry shouted. Her inner thirteen year old was unshrouded. The boys looked at each other. Terror temporarily took a timeout to treat the boys to a less threatening type of typical manic behavior: confusion.

“C’mon guy’s get up and dance!” said the blonde headed twenty six year old.

She took them by their hands, twirling them around her living room in their baby bonnets and XXL diapers.

“C’mon fellas, don’t you like to dance?” She said throwing her arms up in the air like and annoying preteen tween queen. They were immobile, afraid to move. Her bipolar light switch had turned on. They stared at her. She stared at them. Marilyn stared at all of them in the dark living room. Cherry’s thirteen year old mindset went out like a candle in a tornado.


Her bitchy, scary, adult woman voice came out like a bark, a shout, a vicious snap of the tongue. But then a girlish smile formed on her face. The boys thought we need to get out of this place…..NOW!

“Now c’mon and dance with momma,” she said.

Reluctantly and clumsily the boys danced around but felt like clowns in their baby bonnets and XXL diapers and red ball gagged mouths. Cherry clapped and giggled like a little girl. She bumped her hips to theirs as they all shook it up with the Cars. It look like a mental patient mosh pit at some insane asylum under the haunted spell of moonlight and 80’s pop fodder. It became such a riot. Cherry fell on the floor laughing hysterically, ill mentally, forever more. Then something clicked when Cherry Trick heard Cheap Trick on her stereo. She licked her lips and fingered the other. You better run for cover. Miss piss queen, teen tween, tight pussy blue jeans got the hots, its 12:00, don’t stop, don’t stop, cus my baby loves to rock. Kick and scream Cherry did to the sound of rock and roll. Jumping on the couch like a hyped up female version of Tom Cruise home alone fuckin’ that slut. She turned it up. It rattled the walls. Shook the coffee table and flew down the hall. Crazy loud fun rockin’mania filled her house. She got an idea. She took of her bloody blouse. Cherry pranced around the room blowing kisses to Marilyn pictures. She even showed off some of her stripper skills when she for the third time unzippity zipped her tight pussy jeans, showing off her god given moneymaker in all its sexy round American girl glory, oh lordy. Big eyed with a crazy wide grin she asks, “Hey boy’s, do you like to play dress up?”

They stood motionless stupid with fear and confusion and totally unwanted collateral damage semi hard-ons from Ms. Tricks sweet sassy ass jiggilin’ and giggilin’ under a hot Friday night moon.

“Be right back boys. Have a seat. Wait right there, you’re in for a treat!” She whisked down the hall and into her room.

And there they stood, midnight in a stranger’s house in a humiliating get-up with sore anuses and a low level of dignity. They couldn’t speak because of the big red balls in their mouths. So their muffled, head bobbing, eye twitching, mental patient looking conversation translated to this:

We need to get out of here now! No shit! This is all your fault anyway! How is it my fault? You said we should stop even though it looked like no one was home! Well guess what dipshit, somebody’s fucking home!!! Well I’m not the one that wanted to watch her take a piss! What! You started making out with her after ten minutes! All right, all right! We don’t have time for this! We need to find a way out of here! Look, there’s the back door right in the kitchen. Just be quiet!

Aufweidersen by Cheap Trick exploded onto the stereo system. They could hear Cherry singing along to the song loudly from the back of the house. Be quiet as a mouse and maybe you’ll get out of this.

“Almost done boys,” She yelled from somewhere deep in he house.

Harry Carry Kamikaze, holy shit here she comes. Better hurry boys. Grab your bibles and run, run, run! Handcuffed hands fumbled frantically with the dumb door.

“Here I come. Time to play,” she said in a singsong girl voice.

Thump, thump ,thump. Her footsteps thundered from the hallway. Her voice lowered into a dusk of dirty sexiness.

“Do you wanna play with me?”

Thump, thump, thump.

“Oh boy’s, time to play.”

Sick laughter in the night. Sweaty hands twisted the doorknob.

Thump, thump, thump.

“Come and play with me, pleeaasse.”

Horny devil kitten sweet sugar pussy voice.


“You dirty little fucking sneaks!”

The boys gasped and turned around at the familiar sound of Cherry’s mean voice. They shrieked like old ladies getting goosed when they saw her standing there under the sick white light of the moon at the other end of the kitchen. This is bitchin’. The boy’s eyes grew wide with shock and terror at the sight of Cherry in a tattered, pink dress ripped to hell and a sparkling, diamond studded pink tiara in her blonde hair. Her face was a frightening mask of smeared lipstick and black smudged mascara around her eyes. Like playtime in the bathroom when mommy was away. And the thumpthumpthumps courtesy of a pair of demonic yet oh so sexy black as fuck Kiss boots!

Behold! This satanic prom queen, alien slut thing, thirteen year old barbie wet dream nightmare of mirror time dementia gone to hell. She looked as if Courtney Love and Cinderella ganged raped Gene Simmons circa 1975.

“All right you little fucks!” She barked, “If you’re gonna sneak around like dogs then you’re gonna piss like dogs! OUTSIDE!” Her sharp, angry twenty six year old bipolar, pissed off voice shook the boys. But then just as quickly as the lion roared the lamb softly spoke in a sweet, feminine, singsong voice.

“By the way, do you like my outfit? I call it Kisserella.”

“Now get outside!” she yelled loud and high.

They stood motionless.

“Move dogs move!”

Out they went into the night without a fight. They prayed to see the morning light.

Bare feet slipped on grass wet with dew.

“Please dear jesus, help us through,” the older Christ warrior prayed.

Crickets chirped under the light of the moon.

“Please dear jesus, let this be over soon,” the younger Christ warrior prayed.

The night air was thick and muggy.

“Sweet jesus this night has actually been kinda funny,” thought Cherry Trick.

“All right boys on your knees.” Cherry commanded.

“You two think you can sneak around on me like a couple of dogs?” Her scary mascara blackened eyes turned sharply to the young Christ warrior.

“I let you touch my tits you little pervert! And you think it’s fun to watch a girl pee!” She yelled with psychotic female rage in her voice at the boy who came twelve seconds after inserting himself into her, feeling her warm, smooth, soaking wet vagina. Ooh yeah, ooh yeah! Blow your load you horny toad. Her pink tiara went crooked. A curtain of blonde hair shaded her left eye from her outburst.

“And know you’re trying to skip out on the party.”

Her big black boot met the young boy’s stomach and then his head. She layed him out flat just like that under the white moon. In her hand she held a pink basket. And what is in your little pink basket Ms. Trick? You little tease. Ms. Waterworks toilet queen. Pat your pussy clean. You bright fucking ray of schizophrenic sunshine; tell us tell us what is in the basket you basket case. Show us, show us, is it candy? Horny for sugar. Older Christ warrior had big worried eyes watching Cherry lick her lips with her hand in her basket.







She twirled herself around. A ping tornado in the night slashing at the humid air with her two knives painted pink with lipstick kisses on them.

“Don’t be shy now,” she told her knives. “Say hi to the boys.”

She swung them in their faces. The younger boy was still on his back possibly dreaming for death. Make a wish on the shooting star son. Don’t you wish you had a gun? Don’t worry she’s almost done. Are you having fun?

“I once knew a girl who played with knives. She wanted a puppy when she was five. Mommy said no so she had to go. I slashed her fucking neck that no good ho! Hohoho merry Christmas!”

It has to be the moon. It’s making her crazy. Things are so hazy. The older boy thought.

“I’m teasing, you silly shits. My mother is alive and well although I wish she was in hell!” Cherry said.

“But no seriously,” she continued talking in her yard under the moon to the boys twirling her hair speaking casually, dementedly as if none of this was out of the ordinary or strange. Do you need to change? Your XXL diapers?

“This chic I use to work with at the club use to stick knives, real knives, up her pussy during her performance. Now that’s crazy! She was murdered in the back parking lot a few years back. Some heroin junkie freak killed her. Stabbed her like six times straight up her cunt. Man that would have had to hurt. What a bitch. Try sleeping with that on your mind.”

What a way to end the night Ms. Trick with your weird, creepy tale to give the boys a fright on this strange night. Now that’s all right!

“Ooohhh” her eyes went googly “Look what I found.”

Her thirteen year old persona decided to join the party. Out of her pretty pink basket she pulled her putrid puppy that passed away when she was six. Twenty six year old dead puppy beats weird creepy tale. Rock paper scissors.

“Would you like to pet him?”

She lowered the stiff small carcass to the boys. They retreated trying not to vomit through their red ball gags. Then a look of sadness formed on Cherry’s face. She began to cry like a child. Mood swing dementia, inner child fantasy breakdown, get outta town.

“Yoouu don’t like meeee,” she pathetically whined and wailed.

She plopped to the ground with pink all around, black mascara streaming to her frown. She covered her face and cried.

“Is it me? Why won’t you boys play with me? Do you not like me?” Cherry was genuine. Genuinely fucking crazy but genuine. Poor girl. Her back was toward them as she sniffled and cried like a drunk girl in the bar parking lot sitting in her own vomit.

“Is it my vagina? Does it smell? I know some girls have a problem with that but I do my best to stay fresh down there.”

As Cherry babbled over her non smelly cunt, the unlocked fence in her yard caught the young boy’s eye. The older boy shook his head vehemently urging his Christ buddy not to be stupid and try to wiggle over to the fence.

“…..I mean it’s part of my job to keep clean, you know for the customers.”

The young boy made his move. He wiggled on his belly like a worm to freedom. He looked like a giant alien baby in search of milky from his ba-ba or maybe from his mama’s ta-ta’s.

“…..My algebra teacher said it didn’t smell.”

Sweat coated the older boy’s forehead. Fear reassured him that he was dead.

….”I don’t know, maybe it’s all in my head,” Cherry said.

She paused and collected herself sitting in the white light of the moon. The night became silent. The only sound was the buzzing of the insect world down in the dew of the grass. Cherry turned and faced the older boy. She sniffled a couple of times and said,

“Do you think haunted demons can fly out of the sun?”

That’s it! Run, run, run! Farewell, sayonara, auf weidershen motherfucker!

Older Christ warrior screamed through his ball gag to the wiggling Christ warrior in the grass. It sounded something like that skinny nerd screaming ‘jake’ under the glass table in that 80’s teen flick.

“Hey!” barked the now twenty six year old angry, funhouse freak slut.

“Get back here you little runt!”

She threw her dead puppy to the ground and stalked towards the boy. You tried son, too late though. She stood above him, his back to her. Her thick black boots as black as the night.

“Turn around and face me,” she said calmly in a light voice.

“That’s it sweetie.”


Harsh, violent vocal treachery. Lunatic dark laughter follows.

“You thought you could sneak away and bust up my party. Well I ain’t having it girly!”

Her big boot met his young chest and something cracked. Older boy screamed “jake jake!”

“You shut up back there!” she yelled.

She kicked him again. Crack! Bloody, horrific scream. Rock and roll boots blood galore. His eyes wide with horror and pain with a touch of furiousness at the wild stripper gone mad. She removed his ball gag.

“Derek!” The young Christ warrior screamed.

Older Christ warrior responded with “Jake Jake!”

Annoyed and pissed off, Cherry said, “Can’t you see I’m trying to kill you.” And raised her boot again.

“Wait wait”

“What what”

“Don’t don’t”

“Please please”

“Stop stop”

“Why why”

“Don’t cry don’t cry”

Shoot a tiger in the eye. Kick! Scream! She dug her boot deep into his young chest.

“You shoud’ve gotten me that puppy mommy! Oh, she did. He’s over there, oops” Smash! Kick! Scream! He screamed for help loud and high.

“Scream scream scream all you want. Don’t you know all my neighbors are deaf?”

Cherry joined in and scream with the young Christ warrior.


“Sounds like earlier doesn’t sweetie” she winked at the older boy. He wanted to puke. She kicked and kicked and kicked some more. When the kid wakes up he’ll be sore. But he won’t wake up, Never, ever, ever! It’s hard to wake up without a brain that’s been splattered from here to Maine. Gooey, gooey morning dew mixed with bloody brain battered stew.

“Now it’s your turn big boy” She cracked her knuckles and he started to wiggle away.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going” said the pink piss nightmare queen looking all haunted and obscene. He gave up. Nowhere else to hide. He looked to the sky. “God, please” he prayed.

Her saw her standing there at the other end of the yard looking eerie, creepy and oh so pink under the moon light. Cherry stomped her way across the yard in the black of night in her blood wet giant kiss boots, wearing her pink prom dress, in her smudged mascara. What a mess.

“Please god, help me,” the Christ warrior cried.

All his prayers came out sounding like “jake jake”. Accept it son, your dead meat. Should’ve kept walking in the heat right on past 1313 Devules Court. Now you’re fucked. Cherry began humming a familiar tune in the light of the moon. It will all be over soon.

“These boots were made for walkin’.” Creep, creep, creeping closer. “And that’s just what they’ll do.” So close, so close. Now she stood over him, her horrid face above the Christ warrior like a living nightmare in the flesh.

“One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over”


The next morning. A new day. Hello Saturday. Apple jacks heaven. Morning breakfeast at seven. Bright eyed and bushy fucking tailed. Cherry Trick twirled around her kitchen with pink madness blowing kisses to Marylin. Pink stove, pink microwave, pink countertop she can’t stop dancing and laughing. It’s a wonderful day. It’s the goddam sound of music at the fucking Trick residence. But wait where are the boys? Ms. Trick’s little human toys. They had come so far and worked so hard. They’re right back there buried in her back yard along with the mailman, the milkman, the meter man, the gas man, that dreaded tax man.

That’s a lot of killin’and a lot of pissin’ for poor Ms. Trick.



Knock knock knock. “Who is it? I’ll be right there.” Primp pee and brush hair. Same tall black boots, same tight pussy blue jeans, same white top minus the blood. She opened the door so very slow.

“Hi ma’am my name is Detective Monroe”

“How can I help you” Cherry said.

“Well ma’am there’s been a disappearance.”

She blushed at ma’am and told the detective her name.

“Well Ms.Trick two boys have gone missing.”

“Missing?” she said.

“Yes missing Ms. Trick.”

“Please, call me Cherry” she smiled.

“Ok, Cherry” He smiled back.

“This is all very dreary Cherry but you see, the boys haven’t been seen since a quarter to three, yesterday.”


“Yes, yesterday.”

“Well what do ya’ say.”

“Here’s a picture of the boys. Sources say they were in this area yesterday afternoon. They were out and about spreading the good word. They are connected to the kingdom of Jehovah congregation here in town. ”

Don’t frown Cherry. “Can’t say they look familiar.” Liar, liar tight pussy jeans on fire.

“Well that’s too bad. Their Mother is worried sick about them. They’re brothers. David 21 and Derek 19.”

“Brothers?” Cherry said shocked.

“Yes brothers.”

Holy shit oh brother. Cherry’s inner evil self was boiling over with excitement high fiving itself. Yahtzee you slutty thing, but keep it together girl, Cherry thought to herself. She shook her head slowly.

“Oh that’s so sad.”

“Yeah and it’s too bad. They’re good boys.” He said.

No they’re not detective, no they are fucking not, Cherry laughed inwardly.

“Here’s my card Ms. Trick. If you see anything give me a call.”

“You want a pop cop, it is so hot,” Cherry asked.

“It is hot, but no pop, thanks.”

Just then the carousel like tone of the local ice cream truck pulled into Devules Court.

“I sure could go for some ice cream though’” Detective Monroe smiled.

“So could I detective, so could I.” She licked her lips.

Cherry’s heart sped up with excitement as she gazed at the ice cream man behind the wheel of the large white truck with hand drawn pictures of chocolate and vanilla ice cream cones on it.

She bit her bottom lip in anticipation as she and the detective walked towards the truck under the hot mid-morning sun; her long black boots making a long sexy stride.

“What’ll ya have little lady?” The ice cream man asked cheerfully.

“I’ll have a sundae with extra whip cream, oh and a cherry on top” Cherry said with a wink and an evil smile to the ice cream man with her sights now set on a new (bloody) adventure and her mind’s eye on the bedroom.





































Date Night





Vicki Daniels had had about enough of the fucking tool’s mouth rambling on and on about how he and his fucking frat house buddies gang raped the new sorority sister even though she was drunk as a fucking skunk and laughing to high hell when they all came on her face and then punched her in the mouth to shut up her stupid goddamn laughing.

She cocked her head back in a quick motion when she downed her shot of whiskey. The small glass made a loud clink sound when she slammed it down on the wooden bar at Cherrybombs niteclub where she worked as a dancer.

“I suppose you want another?” Jack, the owner of the club said and swung a white dish cloth over his shoulder.

“Please,” Vicki said and then glared with hate in her eyes at the nearly drunk jock talking about all the girls he’s fucked and raped and pissed on because he was so drunk out of his mind. He was wearing a dark blue sweatshirt with the name of the college he went to on it and a baseball cap turned backwards on his head.

The tool wouldn’t shut up. He kept going and going on a never ending recap of his drunken fights and general abuse towards women. And the other drunks sitting around him all listened and laughed and carried on with him.

Vicki was on her break and really didn’t feel like hanging out in the outhouse watching Lauren Hill play with herself (that dirty ol’ gal watching all those dirty young girls with their pussies hanging all out for everyone to see and smell and maybe taste) so she opted for a drink and maybe a little chit chat with Jack at the bar. Now she wished she had went into the outhouse to watch Lauren bang herself silly.

Vicki was becoming more irritable at the sound of his voice and laughter. She put her hand to her head and began massaging it even though she didn’t have a headache. What a motherfucker, she thought. Metallica was playing on the house pa, last caress. Jack pushed a fresh shot of whiskey towards her. She smiled and said thanks and gulped down the hot, brown liquid.

A big roar of laughter came hurdling at her as the dumb tool slammed his fist on the bar and laughed like the lunk ape he was. She almost chocked on her drink and she viciously snapped her head his way. Her eyes were fiery with rage and she began to open her mouth and then it hit her. Just relax Vic, this fuck will get what’s coming to him sooner than he fucking thinks. She flagged Jack down with a wave of her hand. She told him to keep the lunk occupied until she got back.

“What’s up Vic?” Jack asked somewhat suspiciously.

“He looks rich. I might be able to squeeze a few bucks out of him with a couple lap dances. But I need to do something first.”

She winked at Jack and he understood completely.

He laughed and said, “Ok sure kid.”

She got up from the bar and started walking towards a table where a very sexy blonde headed girl was sitting with another drunk jock.

The blonde whose lips were glossy and wore pink fingernail polish raised her head and smiled at Vicki as she walked up to the table.

“I need to talk to you Cherry,” Vicki said with a tone of importance in her voice.

Cherry Trick smiled at her customer and said in a very sexy voice, “I’ll be right back honey. You better not try runnin’ away from me either.” She laughed.

The girls went to the hallway in the back by the outhouse to get away from the noise of the club.

“What’s going on?” Cherry asked.

Vicki’s face was distorted with anger and determination. She was clenching her fists and was nervous acting.

“Calm down babe. Something happen?”

Vicki took a breath and tried to calm herself.

“This fucking guy over there by the bar.” She turned her head in the direction of the bar. Cherry followed her eyes and also looked that way.

“He didn’t stiff you did he? Like money wise.”

Vicki couldn’t help but laugh at the pun but her face was still serious.

“No, he’s just some dumb fucking jock. He won’t shut up about all the girl’s he’s fucked and raped and all this shit.”

Cherry knew better than to tell her to just take her break out in back behind the building. None of the girls went back there anymore ever since Amy Smith was murdered in the parking lot three years ago.

“He’s really getting under my skin. I know I could just walk away but I wanna tell him to fuck off you know.”

Cherry could feel her frustration and then a thought popped into her mind. She looked devilishly at Vicki.

“I know what will shut him up.”

Vicki looked at Cherry not understanding what she meant but then she knew. They glared at each other without saying a word as they stood in the poorly lit hallway. And then a pair of evil smiles formed on their pretty faces.

“Date night,” Vicki said.

“Motherfuckin’ date night,” Cherry said with a pursed lip smile of dead evil sexiness.

“It’s been a couple weeks anyway since the last one. I think we’re about do,” Vicki told her in a tone that justified the little game they had planned for the dumb drunk jock.

The girls high fived each other and then kissed one another. They went back out to the bar.


Jack was doing his best to keep the jock at his seat by offering him another beer and talking about the latest college football game. He was relieved to see Vicki return because he himself was becoming annoyed with hearing the jock’s sick stories. She winked at Jack and mouthed thank you to him and Jack went back to making drinks and wiping the bar down.

Vicki slid up behind the jock and put her hands on his shoulders and neck.

“Hey cutie how are you tonight?”

She cringed internally at her words but put on her best sexy smile. She caught him in mid-sentence when he was saying, “Oh man I was so shitfaced.” He looked up wide eyed and ready to kick someone’s ass for interrupting him but his demeanor changed when he saw her pretty face and smelled her sweet perfume.

She put her hands up playfully and said, “Whoa there tiger.”

A smile formed on his face like he knew exactly what he was going to do to her later when he had her face down and naked and drunk on the floor of his dorm with his buddies all around him drinking bud light and yelling and cheering him on telling him to fuck that bitch. She could almost sense what he was thinking by that smile.

“Well hey sugar,” He said.

“You don’t mind having some company do you?” She said and put her hand on his.

He offered to buy her a drink but she declined and told him that they weren’t allowed to drink during work, breaks only. But she in return offered him a lap dance at a special discount.

“Normally they’re twenty per song but since I think you’re extra cute so I’ll only charge ten. Oh, and see the girl over their by that table?”

The dumb jock cocked his head over to see. He nodded with a smile on his face.

“She can join us if you want. I’ll throw that in for free.”

His smile grew bigger.

Cherry went over to them and sat down on the bar stool next to the jock.

“I see she had to twist your arm.” Her smile was pretty.

Vicki looked at Cherry and they both looked at the jock.

“Are you ready?” Vicki asked.

“Damn ladies let’s go. C’mon.” He smacked his hands together and rubbed them furiously and took one more drink from his bud light bottle which was sweating like crazy because it was hotter than fuck in the bar. The wooden ceiling fan was broke so there was no air circulating in the club.

They all got up and he adjusted his backwards baseball cap and they both took him by his hand and led him to a large leather couch on the other side of the dance floor. They waded through a mist of cigarette smoke as the song Burnt from the band Bile played loudly on the pa. Time and motion seemed to have slowed down in Vicki’s eyes as they walked towards the couch. They passed the other jock who Cherry was wooing a while ago. It was the dumb jocks buddy. As the girls went past him, the dumb jock behind them mouthed to the other dumb jock, I’m gonna fuck these bitches. Vicki was already planning date night in her mind as they made their way to the couch. She felt a surge of excitement in between her legs.

A half hour later the dumb jock was sitting in between the two sexy as hell strippers on the couch. He was bummed that he had spent his last twenty bucks on the lap dance. He wanted another one but there was no chance in hell for that. No free rides Jack would always tell the girls.

Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash was now on the pa.

“That’s ok sweetie. There’s always next weekend,” Cherry told him as she played with his ear and hair.

“But,” Vicki broke in, “the fun really doesn’t have to stop here.” She smiled at the jock.

The jock perked up, wanting to hear what the pretty, sweet smelling girl had in mind.

He lifted his hands up and said, “What’s up ladies?”

The girls giggled simultaneously like bad little school girls.

The both went in close to his face at the same time. One mouth on each ear. His eyes exploded after hearing what they had to say.


They all met out front by Vicki’s car. The jock had no problem telling his other jock friend to take a hike and that the girls said only one at a time.

“So where is this place?” He said under a dull, glowing streetlight.

“It’s not too far; just right outside of town,” Vicki told him.

He clapped his hands together again and said, “Well let’s go. Hot damn I’m ready!”

“Ohhh I bet you are baby,” Vicki laughed and went to kiss him. She grabbed his ass as she did. She wanted to vomit in her mouth as she kissed him but she knew it was all part of date night.

“Save some for me now,” Cherry told her and playfully smacked Vicki’s tight ass popping out and looking sexy in her short black skirt.

They all had agreed to ride together in Vicki’s car and leave the jock’s at Cherrybombs until they got back. They got in her car and left the club.


Cherry lit up a cigarette as she sat shotgun and listened to twist of cain by Danzig on the radio. They cruised down a few back roads, going past a never ending sea of cornfields. The night was warm and muggy and the moon was out. The jock surprisingly didn’t have much to say during the ride. That big stupid grin on his face was keeping him from talking. He couldn’t wait to fuck both of these strippers at the same time. He pictured himself going back and forth between the both of them as their asses arched up high in front of him. He could almost smell there pussies.

“And here we are.” Vicki shut off the car after they pulled up to an old abandoned house on some deserted Indiana back road. The house was run down and falling apart. The jock didn’t seem to notice or even care that it looked so shabby and rather creepy. His mind was on other things.

“It doesn’t look like much but it’s a decent hangout,” Vicki started to tell him but he was already opening the door and getting out.

They walked through almost knee high grass and weeds to the old house. Cicadas and crickets buzzed all around in the night. It was almost midnight.

They just walked right in because there was no front door. In what was considered the front room of the house, sat an old mattress.

The jock did notice that it was completely dark when he asked, “What do you use for light?”

Vicki reached into her purse and pulled out a lighter. She flipped it on and her pretty face shown through the glow of the fire.

There were candles all along the floor. She began to light them. Soon the room was glowing with a nice, soft orange color. Cherry kicked off her high heels. So did Vicki. The jocks smile returned.

“You ready for us,” Vicki asked.

“Oh hell yeah!” He said.

Cherry said, “What would you like to do first with us?” She went to sit down on the mattress.

“How about we suck your cock at the same time, would you like that,” Vicki said with a sexy smile.

Cherry said, “Or we can jerk you off with. You ever have two hands before?”

“Or you can lay down on the mattress and you can eat our pussies, we’ll take turns sitting on your face. We’ll just rub our dirty little selves all over your face.”

They wouldn’t give him a word in edge wise. He was about to blow his load standing there in the dark.

“I’m a squirter,” Cherry said in the dark. “I’ll fucking get you so goddam wet honey. I’ll squirt it right on your face! And then Vicki can lick it off.”

“Or how about….’

“Ok, ok, let’s get this thing started.” The jock could stand no more.

Vicki went to him and Cherry got up from the mattress. They started kissing him. Vicki pulled Cherry into her and the jock and they all kissed at the same time. “God I love those triple kisses,” Cherry said and pulled the jocks hand under her skirt. She wasn’t wearing any panties.

“I know I like them to,” Vicki said.

She pushed the jock backwards onto the mattress and got on top of him. She pulled of her top. He fondled her tits. Cherry positioned herself over his face and grinded her snatch into his face. Her pussy stink was strong but he indulged himself anyway. She got off of him and he said, “Hey where are you going?”

“I have to pee.”

“You wanna watch her,” Vicki said.

“I will be right back you two, don’t worry.” Cherry wandered off somewhere into the darkness of the broken down house.

“So are you enjoying are little date night baby?” Vicki asked him.

“You bet doll.” He attacked her boobs with his mouth.

She started to laugh, “Whoa there honey, same some for later now.”

She stood up and he was sitting on his knees on the mattress.

“Let me do a show for you.” She started to strip off he clothes. She pushed her bare ass into his face. Her pussy smelled grand, with just a hint of pee on it. The jock frantically took off his shirt ready to dig in hard and indulge himself.

As she danced in front of him, Cherry returned from out of the darkness to the living room. He had his back turned to her and didn’t hear her come in. The girls eyed each other under the glow of the burning candles. In Cherry’s hand was a long, metal ball bat. Written on it in black marker was, beat on the brat. A twisted and devilish smirk crossed her face as she raised the bat up high. Vicki was bumping and grinding away on the jock with her hands on his shoulders. Her soft, pubic hair rubbed up against his face like a purring kitty in need of some attention. She lowered herself and grabbed his crotch and kissed him. She said, “Don’t you know it’s not nice to talk shit about girls!”

And then the metal bat came down hard on the back of his head. He jerked forward and plopped face first down onto the mattress; knocked out cold.

And everything faded to black.


He awoke in a foggy daze. Disoriented and confused he tried to open his eyes. When he did a bright flash of white attacked him. He quickly shut them. Slowly but painfully he opened them again. The room was brightened with a single light bulb hanging from a string in the middle of the room. The back of his head throbbed. He tried to speak.

“What, where….where am I. Hello?”

He coughed.

There was music playing loudly from somewhere in the house. It sounded abrasive. And then he heard laughter.

“Whose there? Hello? What’s going on?”

He felt like he was lying down flat but he was in a standing position. He glanced around the bright room and suddenly remembered the girls.

The girls, he thought. Where are the girls?

More laughter.

“Hello!” He yelled out. His confusion was slipping away and he was becoming more aware.

Then he noticed he couldn’t move his arms. He looked to the sides of him and his heart sped up in terror at the sight of his wrists confined and cuffed to some kind of wooden structure.

He went into a panic as he tried to free himself. The music seemed to be getting louder to.

“Hey, goddamit!”

The same feeling of immobilization was in his feet and legs also. He looked down and a terror of which he’s never felt before took over him.

His ankles were confined as well. He screamed out loud.

More laugther.

“Help! Somebody help!”

His arms and legs were stretched out, looking like a human x. He was attached to a large wooden wheel. And the worst part was that he was completely naked.

The music suddenly roared into the room. Cherry was holding a big boom box. Behind her was Vicki with an opened bottle of champagne in her hand. They stumbled into the room laughing like two drunk girls at the bar, bumping into each other. They were bare ass naked all but for their high heels and a green soldier’s helmet on Vicki’s head and a white captain’s hat on Cherry. It was quite a sight. Sisterfucker by Eyehategod blasted out of the boom box.

The jock screamed and Cherry suddenly screamed along with him and put the blasting boom box right up to his face. She broke out into an uncontrollable laugh.

“Wanna go for a ride?” She yelled and spun the wooden wheel around sending the jock whirling around about five times. He was screaming at her to stop but she kept spinning it. Vicki was laughing hard to but she finally told her to take it easy and to save some of her energy. The wheel came to a stop.

Vicki turned off the music.

The room was quiet for a few moments and it was relieving to the jock.

“I’m sorry but you have to excuse me and Cherry for laughing so hard. We couldn’t help but notice your little friend down there.” Vicki pointed to his penis and the girls broke out into another fit of laughter.

The jock didn’t even care about that, he just wanted to get free from the contraption.

“What’s the matter sweetie,” Cherry said. “You look frightened.”

Her smile faded. “You fucking should be!”

Just then Vicki pulled a cart in front of her. It had a white sheet over it. She took a big swig of champagne.

“You’re probably wondering what the fuck is going on right now aren’t you!”

She took another drink.

“Well let me explain. Welcome to date night! You see, me and my girlfriend over there have this thing we like to call date night. We pick out some lucky fucking guy that we see at the club and we bring them back here and we have oh so much fun with them. Wanna see?”

She pulled off the white sheet quickly and on the cart was a plethora of tools and knives and cutters and hammers.

“Ok, ok, ok. Look, just let me go please. We can just forget all of this ok.” The jock was trying to sound calm.

“Wait,” Vicki said. “Do you think we’re gonna use this stuff on you?” She put her hands out and had a sexy stance in the bright room. Cherry giggled softly.

Vicki pushed the cart away hard and fast. Some of the tools fell off onto the floor. “Oh hell no. We got something special in store for you sweetness!” Both girls walked over to the jock; there high heels clicking loudly on the wood floor. They stood in front of him with their hands on their hips as if wondering what to do first with their lucky boy. His fear was crippling as his eyes went back and forth between both girls. Then Vicki smiled and whispered something in Cherry’s ear. Cherry giggled with delight at Vicki’s little secret. The jock was breathing himself into a panic knowing that he was truly fucked and that there was no way out of this.

“Look, I’m a fucking tool. I know it. I ain’t worth a shit so come on guys seriously.”

Cherry moved in close to him up to his face and said, “You talk too much.” She ran the tip of her tongue along his bottom lip. He tried to pull away but she forcefully grabbed his cheeks and rammed her tongue hard into his mouth. He moaned and tried to push her away with his head but it was impossible.

“Don’t fight it baby,” Vicki said and caressed his balls in her hand, gently running them through her fingers. “Don’t you like this honey? Your limp as a wet noodle. Here, this might help.” She joined Cherry and began kissing him to. Now they were both sucking and licking all over his face and he kept moving his head to the left and right, trying to fight them off but it was useless. He was their human plaything and they had all the power. He started to whimper and almost cry.

“Please, please stop. Just let me go please!”

“Oh now baby, it’s all right. We’re gonna take real good care of you, ok,” Cherry said and then smacked his cheek lightly.

“You two are fucking crazy. Please let me go!”

Cherry said, “You know, you really do talk too much,” and she gave the cue to Vicki.

Vicki gently slid her tongue into his mouth and slid it around over his and then she clenched down hard on it with her pearly whites. Her eyes went wide with sexual insanity that made Cherry release a high pitch half laugh, half scream of arousal.

“Ohhhh baby, there she goes!”

The jock screamed in agony as Vicki bit down like a rabid dog on his tongue. A line of blood dripped down his chin and then Vicki motioned with her finger to Cherry to come close to her and join her. Vicki eased up just slightly so Cherry could get in there and join in the fun to. Both girls had their teeth clenched tight on his tongue and then the real fun began. They made fake orgasm sounds as they bit down on his bloody, almost tore in half tongue. His howls and screams of terror didn’t even phase them as they jerked his tongue around violently in the grip of their teeth. His chin was now covered in his own blood. Then both girls started to make a horrific, roaring sound almost like a Harley engine, when they bore down with all their girl strength, trying to rip out the jocks tongue. They were almost successful but only managed to rip it in half making it look like a lizards tongue. The jock roared out a cry of ungodly pain for the next five minutes. Cherry masturbated to his screaming. Vickie watched as she wiped his blood from her mouth.

“And to think this is only the beginning baby!” Vicki said with a big smile.

When Cherry was done banging her pretty little self, she stood up and spun the wheel of death.

“Let’s go for another ride, what do ya say?”

The jock was moaning quietly and didn’t respond. Round and round he went and the girls both did a unified ‘weeeee’ as if on a fun ride at an amusement park.

“Stop!” Vicki abruptly said.

She grabbed the wooden wheel and stopped it, leaving the helpless jock hanging upside down.

“Attention!” Vicki said in a bastard drill sergeant tone.

“Son, I hear you like to get shitfaced and rape girls. Is that correct!”

He only moaned and said nothing.

“I can’t hear you dumbfuck! Speak up!”


She punched him in the balls. He let out a long and pathetic wine, but still said nothing. He couldn’t. His tongue had been chewed in half.

Vicki continuing with her Pattonesque tirade said, “Son, I also understand that you like to talk a lot of shit, is this true.”

Moaning. Sobbing.

“Well boy, if you like to talk so much shit, you must like to eat shit to, am I right?”

Cherry clapped her hands together excitedly like a little girl.

Vicki positioned herself in front of the jock’s face. She squatted down. Her asshole touched his chin. He was crying like a baby because he knew what was about to happen and there wasn’t a goddam thing he could do about it.

“Here comes taco bell baby!”

A hard blast of soupy brown muck splattered out of her asshole and onto his face. She grinded down on him as he gasped and chocked on her shit. She placed her hands on her knees as she squatted down. She used her stripper skills on him as she bumped and grinded and then a large almost man like turd, exited from her ass.

“OH, that feels good coming out. I’ve been holding all day, fuck!”

The jock was gagging and wheezing and then he vomited.

“Don’t you fucking puke in my pussy you frat boy!”

She lifted herself off of him. She spun the wheel around and he was upright again, except for his faced was covered in her shit. It look like a mud mask an old lady would get at the salon.

Both girls burst out in laughter when they saw his defiled and filthy face.

“Now you’re truly shitfaced you fuck!” Cherry said.

Vicki grabbed the brown bag that the champagne bottle came in and started to wipe her poo from his face. She gagged at the stench.

“So, what do you think of date night so far?” Cherry asked.

The jock coughed and seemed completely dazed and in shock but the stripper duo wasn’t finished yet.

They both went to him and kneeled in front of him. They put their tongues on his limp penis. It stayed limp but they kissed it gently anyway. Their mouths moved to other parts of his body and they began to bite him just as they did his tongue. A bite here a bite there. A fucking bite everywhere. He screamed in horrific pain as they chewed on his stomach and waist and chest and legs. Blood dripped out of the wounds. There pretty faces were splotchy with his blood. They looked like whoring female vampires on a midnight feeding frenzy. Blood got into their blonde hair, staining it a bright red color. They playfully wiped a little on each other getting it on their breasts and bellies. They laughed and kissed each other. But then their kissing became more heated until sweet Vicki found her face in between darling Cherry’s sweet smelling pussy. Blood dripped in lines off his body onto the floor where they indulged with one another.

The girls had moved away just a little from their victim and Vicki made a fist and inserted it into Cherry. She thrust her small hand hard up inside her over and over again. Her hand and wrist was drenched with Cherry’s sex. Cherry yelled, “Harder Vicki, harder!” She obeyed and was almost punching her cunt and then Cherry couldn’t hold out any longer. She screamed when a wave of female sex gushed out of her. A long, thick stream shot out from her pussy and it splashed onto the bloody, shitfaced jock. It didn’t even phase him. His head was hanging to the side and he was moaning a continuous yet quiet moan of pain. Cherry was out of breath but laughing in an almost drunk kind of way. “Oh my god that felt fucking good, oh jesus!” She waved her hands in front of her face to cool herself off. Poor thing.

Vicki got on top of her and started playing with Cherry’s breast’s. Their eyes sparkled at one another because they knew they were getting near the finale of their date night.

“Are you ready?” Vicki asked with a devilish smile.

“Let’s fucking do this!” Cherry said.

They both stood up and Vicki went to the boom box and put a new tape in. Christian Woman by Type o Negative filled the bright room where the jock hung helplessly from a wooden contraption, hanging by the skin of his teeth to his life.

The girls stood in front of the jock. They reached out and touched each other’s palms. They kneeled down.

Vicki positioned herself right underneath his ball sac. Cherry asked her if she was comfortable. She said yes. Then, Cherry got on top of Vicki and put her mouth directly under the jocks balls in that mysterious region between his anus and nuts. She opened her mouth as wide as it could go and she heard the jock crying pathetically. Cherry could feel Vicki trembling under her with anticipation. It was turning her on.

The jock suddenly tried to speak when he mumbled out, “No,no, noooo” It was pathetic and weak sounding as if he was too tired to yell.

Cherry responded in return with a sexy, high pitched, “Uhuhhh, uhuhhhh.” She smiled and squint her eyes and moved her head in a ‘yes’ motion. Both she and the soon to be dead jock went back and forth like this until she attacked him and took a violent bite out of that strange region and ripped him wide open. Blood splashed onto Vicki underneath, splattering her in the face and tits. Cherry threw her face into his wide open gash as he bellowed out a howl of death. She bit into him harder doing that same grinding engine sound from earlier until he was finally dead. Her face was soaked with his blood. Red drops of warm blood dripped down onto Vicki as she smeared it all over her naked body. She licked the red gore off the tips of her fingers. Just then Cherry began punching the wounded area with her fist, slamming it up into his body where she pushed nearly her whole arm up inside him and pulled out a handful of guts and innards in her hand. The sloppy red mess fell onto Vicki and she cried in sensual pleasure, rubbing the slippery gore all over her face and body. Cherry lowered herself and they embraced each other and laughed and cried at the same time, smearing their bloody lips together in a passionate kiss as the angelic sounds of vampire lust came from the boom box. In a crying tone, Cherry said, “I love you.”






























Tim sat on the edge of his sister’s bed just like he always did every night when their mother was working second shift. His big sis’ was sitting in front of her dresser, gazing into the mirror while brushing her hair and watching him masturbate. He had got himself all worked up again while they were in her bathroom and she was sitting on the toilet letting him watch her take a pee.

It had become routine for the past three months for her younger brother to join her in the bathroom every time she had to pee. It was their secret nightly ritual. He accidently saw her in there one day when he was snooping around her room for some reason and he felt his face turn red hot with embarrassment when she caught him staring at her on the toilet. She just laughed and told him it was ok and that she wasn’t mad.

The following day when he got home from school she said, “Come in here with me,” she had said grabbing his hand tugging him along into her heavily perfumed smelling bathroom. “What are you doing?” he asked her.

“I’m gonna let you watch me pee. You want to?” She smiled at him.

“Why would I want to watch you go to the bathroom?” He laughed.

“Why not. It’s just me, your big sis’. C’mon.”

She held his hand and led him into her bathroom.

“Close the door,” she said and then, “just stand by the sink.”

She began to unzip her blue jeans and her brother’s heart began to speed up and he also felt something move down below inside his shorts. She unzipped them slowly and then hooked her thumbs under the waist of her jeans and began to pull them down. His eyes blew up wide and he felt a surge of excitement that he’d never felt before. But he also felt guilty to. What if mom comes home early? He turned away but she said, “You can look, it’s ok,” and smiled brightly. He’d never seen a girls private area before. Her pubic region was a perfect upside triangle of full brown. Not to wide, not to narrow.

She sat down on the shiny porcelain toilet and let out a tired kind of sigh as she did. She cleared her throat and scratched at her nose and started messing with her blouse. Her brother wondered if this is what girls did when they went to the bathroom.

Her stream hit the water. He turned away again. She said with that same bright smile, “It’s ok to look sweetie. Go ahead.” She motioned with her first finger for him to come closer to her so he could see. “See it coming out.” She opened up her legs a little so he could see. He looked down in between her legs with curiosity. Her stream was steady and full and it had an odd yet sweet pungent odor to it which he seemed to like. When she was finished she wiped herself clean with a wadded up piece of toilet paper. She stood up and her nether region was directly in his view. She flushed the toilet and her jeans were still down. He began grabbing at himself like he had to pee himself but it was something else. “You gotta go to?” She asked him. He shook his head no and ran out of the bathroom.

Later that evening when he was done with his homework she sat down next to him on the couch in the living room. “Hey,” she said to him and began playing with his ear. “I have to pee. Wanna watch me again” He responded by saying, “I’m not sure we should be doing this.”

“Why not?” She asked, her smile fading.

“You’re my sister.”

She sat there for a moment and didn’t say anything and not revealing to him if she was angry or not. Finally she said ok and playfully slapped him on the leg and got up from the couch. As she was walking towards the staircase he said, “Wait Kimberly.” She turned around slowly with her hands in her back pockets and a mischievous smile on her face. “C’mon shtihead,” she said and laughed and they both raced up the stairs into her bedroom and then her bathroom. He took his place by the sink just like before and had that excited look on his face but was even more excited internally and felt that rise in his shorts again. It was almost unbearable; the anticipation of seeing his sister’s bare bottom and her soft pubic hair. It was incredibly exciting. She sat down and began to pee. He started his antsy dance. He liked the way her bottom looked when she was sitting on the toilet. It seemed to balloon out. The curve of her hips and the indents around her belly button made him dance even more and he began to fidget with himself.

If watching his big sister go pee was exciting then it was equally exciting for her to see him get aroused by watching her; maybe even more so. She could feel herself getting wet when she saw the look in his eyes when she pulled her jeans down.

There little bathroom adventure went on for the next three months and eventually she told him he could touch himself while he watches.

“You can touch yourself sweetie if you have to. It’s ok. Go ahead.”

He would masturbate while gazing down at her brown patch and inhale the scent of her bathroom and she would smile at him the whole time. She even allowed him to do it on her bed while she brushed her hair and listened to music with the soft glow of her bedside lamp glowing in her room.

“Are you having fun back there?” She laughed at him and sprayed some perfume on her neck. He just mumbled and continued masturbating.

“Hey sweetie listen, Bobby is coming over in a while, so you’re gonna have to finish in your room ok.”

He suddenly stopped and sat up and had a sad look on his face. “He’s always over here.”

She got up and went and sat down next to him on the bed. She placed her hand on his knee. “Look, I know you don’t like Bobby very much but he’s my boyfriend and I love him.” Then, an idea formed in her mind. He could tell she was thinking about something by the look on her face. Then he saw that mischievous smile of hers once again.

An hour later Bobby pulled up into their driveway. “Ok, quick, go in my room and hide where I told you ok.” He ran upstairs and hid himself behind the mountain of extra large plush, stuffed toys of which he didn’t understand why his sister had because she was too old for toys like that. He waited for what seemed like a lifetime as he heard them talking and laughing downstairs and the tv on playing happy days. Then his heart beat quickened with excitement when her bedroom door opened. “I want the light on this time if that’s ok,” she told Bobby. He didn’t object and they both began to get undressed. Her brother watched in fascination as she took off all her clothes. Bobby pulled her close to him and began kissing her. He put his hands on her ass and pulled her on top of him as they fell onto the bed. She laughed and swung her long blonde hair around her body. Her brother began to feel that same excitement down below as he watched her arch her ass high up into the air. He got a real good view of her vagina. He started to touch himself. Her slit glistened under the glow of the lamp. Then she straddled Bobby and what looked like a monster size penis to her brother, slipped inside her vagina. It kept disappearing in and out of it and her brother remembered what she had told him an hour ago as they sat on her bed. You wanna watch us have sex? You can touch yourself if you want but don’t make any noise ok. He wondered if it was hurting her because she was moaning and yelping like a dog getting its paw stepped on. Again he thought, What if mom comes home early? But it was only eight thirty and she didn’t get home until eleven thirty. He felt as if he was going to explode down there because it was a very pleasing sight seeing his sister’s ass like that and how Bobby would grab and squeeze it. It looked like fun. She even glanced behind her a few times and smiled at the mountain of stuffed toys. She was bouncing up and down real fast and then Bobby started to thrust himself in and out very quickly. To her brother it reminded him of that show they watched at school on construction where a guy was using a jackhammer and how it pounded the concrete. Then Bobby made a big loud noise and the bouncing and yelping stopped. Twenty minutes later her brother heard the front door close and heard Bobby’s car pull out of the driveway. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Kimberly opened her door and said, “Ok you little pervert you can come out now.” She laughed. They sat on the bed. “So what did you think?” He could smell the sex on her. He shrugged his shoulders not really knowing what to say. He didn’t understand why his sister was letting him do all these things he knew they shouldn’t be doing, but as guilty as he felt about it he was having fun. He wondered if she felt guilty to or knew it was wrong. It was 1976 and his sister was a free spirit that liked living her life the way she wanted. He hated it when she and his mom would get into fights. They were always yelling at each other. A rush of fear went through him at the thought of her asking him if he wanted to do what she and Bobby just did. She had never laid a finger on him, even when they started peepee time in the bathroom. It was all watching and self touching but still he felt guilty and yet aroused at the same time. As she sat on the bed he couldn’t help but notice another type of odor coming from Kimberly. It wasn’t sex. “You ok little brother,” she said finally knocking him out of his guilt daze. “Yeah I’m fine,” he said passively and her not even considering the fact that she was fucking him up mentally for life. “I know what you need.” She got up and walked over to her dresser. She opened one of the drawers and pulled out a baggy with some white looking sticks in it. “You have some of this and you’ll be just fine.”

Schools out by Alice Cooper spun on her record player as they sat by the window and smoked one of the joints from the bag. She had to show him a few times how to do it but he finally caught on. He coughed out his first hit and she laughed her ass off. “Don’t cough it all out you silly shit. Hold it in a bit.” He felt his head getting heavy and felt somewhat numb. That mellow feeling did kick in though and all the guilt was forgotten. The song ended and the summer night breeze blowing in from the open window felt great on his face. He gave his sister a hug and said, “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Sleep tight,” she said and kissed him on the cheek in an innocent, big sister kind of way. He was afraid she was going to ask him to go into the bathroom again but she didn’t. She closed her door gently and he threw himself onto his bed and fell into an instant sleep.


Two hours later he awoke suddenly to the sound of running water. He wondered where it was coming from. He sat up slowly and rubbed his head and miraculously did not have a headache. He got up and walked out into the hallway and saw the light on in the hallway bathroom. He assumed his sister was in there. The bathroom door opened and his mom stepped out. He jumped when he saw her. “Oh, hi honey. You’re still up?” She asked him. He didn’t respond, only just looked at her. She was in her white bathrobe and had her hair up in a bun. Two long strands of dark brown hair fell on each side of her face. Her lipstick was a dark red. “Well are you gonna say anything?” They stood there both looking at each other in the hallway. “Come here, I want to talk to you.” He started walking to her and when he reached her she took him by the hand and led him into her room. “Have a seat,” she told him motioning to the bed; her face expressionless. He took a seat on the edge of her queen size bed. He was horrified by what he thought she was going to say and then she said it. “I know what you and your sister have been doing.”

Tim’s eyes blew up wide with terror. She rested her arms on his shoulders and slid her hand under his chin and raised his tear streaked face to her.

“And I’m not mad honey.” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. Her robe had parted in the middle and her large breasts smothered his face. He could smell her soap from her shower on her skin. It was nice. It made him relax for a moment.

“I mean, I’m at work all evening and you’re both here alone. I should have figured something like this would happen.” As she talked she slid off her white robe. It fell to the floor like a dying ghost. She wore matching bra and panties. Her skin was creamy white.

“You’re not mad at Kimberly are you?”

“No, not really. She’s a young woman with needs. We all have needs Tim.” He wasn’t sure what she was talking about.

“So here’s how I think we should fix this,” she said now holding both of her son’s hands. “You and me,” she paused and went close to him and whispered in his ear, “we’re going to have sex.” She looked at him and smiled and then she heard her daughter’s voice from behind her.

“Mom, I didn’t hear you come in. Everything ok?”

Kimberly couldn’t see Tim sitting in front of his mom but she gasped when she entered the room and saw both of them.

“What’s going on?” Kimberly asked with fear in her voice.

Her mom went to turn on a lamp. “Oh nothing, me and your brother are going to have sex. Aren’t we Tim.”

He was speechless and felt almost like he was going to throw up.

“What the hell mom!” Her daughter shouted.

“It’s ok Kimberly. I already know about the little bathroom fun you two have been having.” Kimberly said nothing.

“Tell you what,” their mom said, “you can join us Kimberly if you like. In fact I think that would be best. I mean we may as well just get it all out in the open. ”

Tim felt like he was going to pass out. He was clueless to how his mother knew about him and his sister’s bathroom games. His sister stood there not saying anything, looking back and forth between him and his mom. She kind of smirked a little. “It might be kinda fun Tim,” she said with a guilty smile. Finally he said, “You guys are freaking crazy. I’m not having sex with you. You are my mom and besides I’m just a kid!”

“Your eighteen years old Tim.” his mom said in a half laugh. “Get your pants off.” She smiled.

“No,” he shouted.

She put her hands on her hips and laughed, “You won’t have sex with me but its ok to play with yourself in front of your sister while she’s taking a pee?”

“Look Tim,” Kimberly said shaking her head with that guilty smile in a defeated voice, “just go with it.”

“No,” Tim whispered.

She began undressing and her mom smiled happily at Tim. “Really it’s ok baby. I don’t see you getting up and running out of here, so that tells me something.”

She was right. Tim felt horribly guilty yet extremely excited and aroused beyond anything he had ever felt. He was a virgin and after hearing his health teacher talk about sex all the time and then seeing his sister fucking her boyfriend, he wanted to feel what it was like. Now he would have the chance. Both his sister and mom smelled so sweet and had ultra-shapely bodies and they were both smiling at him. This, combined with the fact that his mom was allowing him touch her where ever he wanted was incredibly exciting.

“It’s just us Tim. We’re gonna make you feel real good, ok.” His mom gave him a little peck on the cheek and place her arms on his shoulders again. She began bouncing herself lightly up and down, purposely shaking her large breasts in her bra.

“Look at that those Tim,” Kimberly smiled.

“You wanna touch’em? Go ahead, touch mommies boobs.” His mom took his hand and placed it on her bra. The fabric felt cool to the touch and was smooth.

“Open your mouth sweetie,” His mom went to kiss him. Her tongue felt thick and was saturated with saliva. His hands trembled as he held her waist. She kissed him long and slow. When she was done Kimberly looked at her anxiously as if wanting to kiss him also. His mom laughed and rolled her eyes, “Go ahead, jeez.” Kimberly kissed him. Her lips were thick and warm. “Mommy wants in,” his mom said as she slid in between her son and daughter. She placed her hands on the backs of their heads and brought them in close to her where they all shared a kiss that was overwhelming for Tim. Their tongues slipped and slid all over his. He felt like he had a fever. Their bodies felt so warm. And the ache he was feeling down below was almost painful.

“Oh gosh, you got me all worked up Tim. I have to pee now.” She and Kimberly started for the bathroom and then turned around and said, “Well come on silly, come in here with us.” Tim just sat there in a world of confusion and arousal. His mom continued, “Don’t you want to watch us. It’s just me and your sister, c’mon.” She waved her hand at him and he finally got up. As he walked past his thirty eight year old mom she playfully smacked him on his rear end and had a sexy smile on her face. They entered the bathroom and she pulled down her panties, kicking them off her feet. She sat down on the toilet, sighing very similar to the way her daughter did when she and Tim were in the bathroom that first time. Tim felt his face turn red and looked away.

“Uh, Tim, you can watch. It’s just me. Can’t a mother pee in front of her son?” She hadn’t begun peeing yet. Tim was still looking the other way. “Tim sweetie, watch mommy pee. It’s ok.”

What the hell is going on? He thought. Reluctantly and slowly he turned and faced his mom sitting on the toilet. “That’s it honey,” she said smiling. He couldn’t help the feeling he was getting in his shorts when he saw the hourglass shape of his mother sitting on the toilet. Her stream came and it pierced the water. She began rubbing her breasts. Kimberly was holding Tim’s hand. She said, “She’s hot isn’t she Tim.”

“Oh, Kim,” Her mom said playfully but knew that she was right. Tim couldn’t get over how pretty his mom was and how damn sexy she looked sitting on the toilet; the curve of her waist, the full brown patch of reddish brown pubic hair, and her ass puffing out from the seat. And the sexy aroma of her bathroom didn’t help him much either. He could smell the hairspray she uses and her deodorant and it was making him crazy. A few pink kotex packages were on the back of the toilet. “Come here Tim,” She said. Kimberly pushed him to her and laughed, “Go on. Don’t be such a baby.”

He stood in front of her. Her eyes gazed up at him. She was still peeing. “You like watching mommy pee?” Then she grabbed his penis which was nothing but a throbbing stick of flesh and took him in her mouth. He inhaled a breath of shock but then relaxed when she stroked him with her saliva. “That feels good doesn’t it.” She motioned with her finger at Kimberly. She went over to them both. Her mom pointed to the floor and Kimberly kneeled down by the toilet next to her mom. “You ready for this?” His mom smiled at him. They both put their mouths on his penis and licked and wrapped their tongues all around it sending Tim into a dizzying rapture of sexual lust. His mom’s stream ended but she still would piss out a few short squirts every few seconds as she smiled with her eyes closed and her tongue slithering all over the head of his penis.

“Oh crap mom. Oh no. Oh no!” Tim’s voice was urgent. His mom pulled her mouth away and smiled because she knew he was going to explode.

“Oh fuck, he’s gonna come mom!” Kimberly said and laughed.

His mom said, “Don’t hold back baby.” She put her hands under her bra and held up her tits for him to ejaculate on.

“I can hold out mom!” Tim said frantically.

“Just go ahead and come on my boobs honey. It’s ok. Just get it all over.”

Tim was stroking himself with his mom’s sweet and slick saliva all over his penis. His mouth opened up and he almost screamed when he came because it felt so fucking good.

His sister let out a long, high pitched laugh when the first hot spurt of semen shot from his penis.

“Yeah, do it Tim!” She shouted.

Another spurt of thick, hot semen flew from his throbbing penis.

“Oh my god Tim!” Kimberly laughed.

He made a mess all over his mom’s tits and a little got on her neck.

He blew out another long shot of sperm.

“Oooooh sweetie,” His mom laughed out loud as she held up her breasts and smiled at her son coming all over them. “Yeaaahh, feel good baby?” His mom laughed as one last spray of man orgasm exploded from him. “Look at the mess you made on me Tim.” She jiggled her boobs at him. When he was done he was breathing hard and a layer of sweat formed on his forehead. “Sorry,” he said suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“Oh my goodness Timmy. Don’t be sorry.”

She wiped off with some bathroom tissue, cleaning off her come splattered tits. Then she went to wipe in between her legs. She once again did that ultra sexy, feminine sigh as she lifted her ass off of the toilet seat to wipe herself.

“All done.” She said.

“Wait, don’t flush yet. I gotta go now.” Kimberly took her turn on the toilet and her mom put her arms around Tim and hugged him. Together they watched Kimberly go pee. “You think your sister is pretty?” His mom said as she played with Tim’s ear. He felt out of it and kind of like he was high or if he had overdosed on sex. Then a thought popped into his mind.

“So does this mean we’re not going to have sex, since I already….you know.”

Kimberly got up from the toilet and he could smell the strong odor of their urine. She flushed. Tim’s mom gave him a stern look and in a determined yet sexy voice said, “Oh we’re still gonna have sex.”

They went back out into the bedroom. Kimberly now completely naked, jumped up on the bed and patted the pillow motioning for her brother to come to her. “Go on,” his mom told him and gently pushed his shoulders back. He fought the urge to lie down and suddenly felt as if all of this wasn’t happening, but it was real and he knew it.

“Mom I can’t do this.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t like this. You know you really want to.”

He laughed because he knew she was right but the guilt and embarrassment was killing him.

“See, your smiling. Now lay back and let’s have some fun.”

Reluctantly he did and she followed him with a sexy, evil smile on her face. She pushed him down into his sister’s lap and got on top of him. She could feel him trembling under her. “Don’t be nervous sweetie, just relax. Here, this will help.” She unsnapped her bra and her large natural breasts hung in his face. She ran the palm of her hand over his penis. He jumped and she said, “Just lay still.” It felt really good the way she was stroking him and it did make him relax but then he thought he heard music playing from somewhere.

“Does that feel good?” Her smile sparkled at him.

Kimberly was rubbing his face gently with her hands.

Tim could smell both his mom and sister’s sex. It was a pretty strong scent but smelled rather nice he thought.

“Mommies little boy ain’t going to be little anymore. Ya ready?”

“Mom, no, I can’t!” It came out sounding half assed because he really wanted to have sex but hated the guilt. She just rolled her eyes.

His sister gently pushed on his shoulders to make him still as his mom got on top of him and spread her legs with her feet flat on the bed. “Shh,” she said and then with a big grin, “Are you excited?”

She slowly lowered herself onto him. She slid down with great ease because she was super wet. She had her tongue held in between her teeth with a smile on her face. She squealed out a high, light girlish sigh because she knew she had taken her son’s virginity and it was turning her on like crazy. Very slowly she went up and down on his erect penis. She inhaled slowly and let out a cold shiver type of sigh that made her boobs shake. Tim looked down in between her legs and could see how wet his penis was from her vagina. She kept on riding him slowly and gently because it was his first time.

“Feel good sweetie?” She asked with that big smile.

He looked up at his sister. She gazed down on him and smiled, “Nice isn’t it.” It was nice and it did feel fucking awesome but that feeling of unreality hit him again and then the music started playing again. This isn’t happening. Wake up Tim! Wake up!

His mom said in almost a whisper, “I’m gonna go a little faster. Just hold on to me like this ok.” She put his hands over her ass. Her hands pushed down on his shoulders and she finally moved her legs down onto the bed. Her thighs felt warm against his waist.

She smiled at him and brushed her hand across his face. “We’re having sex Tim.”

“Touch her boobs Tim,” Kimberly said and put his hand on his moms breasts. He rubbed them and they felt so soft in his hands. He grew larger inside her. She took his hands in hers and they connected them. She held them for leverage so she could grind down on him. As he held his mom’s hands he thought of those same hands smoothing his hair at night when he was getting tucked in bed as a kid, or them holding her hand or spanking him when he got in trouble. She released one hand and put it down in the middle of his chest where she rubbed it with her soft palm. “You can touch me Tim where ever you want.” He did. As he explored her soft, shapely body, he noticed just a few grey pubic hairs mixed in with her red, brown hair down below. It turned him on even more because she was a woman. Not some inexperienced girl but a fully grown thirty eight year old mother who had raised him and loved him and was letting him have sex with her and enjoy her body because she loved him and wanted him to feel what a woman felt like.

She fucked him for a good ten minutes asking him every few seconds if it felt good and that she was proud of him for doing such a good job his first time, all in her motherly voice.

“You wanna try your sis?” She asked and got off of him. His penis and stomach were a wet, damp mess from his mom’s vagina. The odor hit him and couldn’t help but be aroused by it.

She switched places with Kimberly and patted her knees and told Tim, “Lay your head in mommies lap.” She looked at her daughter and said, “Fuck your brother.”

Kimberly started fucking him with a smile on her face and she said to him, “You know we’re all going to hell for this.”

And that’s when Tim found himself standing in his mother’s room by her bed, no longer having awesome sex with his sister but rather watching his mom have sex. But he didn’t know who was under her. She turned her head and saw him as she was bouncing up and down on someone.

“You can watch Tim. It’s ok sweetie. Watch mommy have sex.”

Yeah, it’s ok sweetie, watch sweetie Tim. Little sweetie Tim, sweetie, sweetie, sweetie, sweetie Tim!

Tim saw himself under his mom on the bed. Tim on the bed was laughing and pointing at the other Tim standing up.

“Fuck your mommy, fuck your mommy, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Tim on the bed said and his face turned to blood red color and a demons tongue shot out from his mouth, hissing and spitting at the real Tim.

The room began spinning and then the bed was empty and he was standing alone by himself. Then from out of the shadows a hideous vision came into his view. A monstrous creature with four legs and four arms and two heads joined together with bloody faces and demons tongues. It was his mom and sister crawling their morphed and freakish bodies towards him in the dark room. But they were joined together as one. Come to us Timmy. Join us Timmy. Together we can be as one. Their voices high pitched and witch like. Tim screamed and fell backwards onto the floor and the gargantuan mommydaughter creature came scurrying towards him at a high speed, ready to suck him up into their vile joined together bodies.





Schools out for summer

“Tim, wake up!”

Schools out completely

“Tim, you’re having a nightmare!”

Kimberly began shaking her brother on the floor in her room where had fallen asleep two hours ago.

“Tim goddamit stop screaming!”


Tim bolted up from the floor and put his arms out as if to defend himself but there wasn’t anything there, only his sister with whom he had shared a joint with a couple of hours ago.

“Tim, Tim, you’re all right. Calm down. Jesus Christ man!” Kimberly let out a nervous type of laugh as she tried to calm her brother down.

“What the hell happened!” Tim yelled. “Where’s mom? Did I fuck you? Mom fucked me! Holy dear god, oh shit mom fucked me!!!”

Kimberly and her boyfriend Bobby let out a stoned laughed that seemed to go on forever. Tim dazed and confused pointed at his sister. “And I fucked you to! What the hell!”

She screamed out a laugh and covered her mouth trying to hold it in but it was impossible. Both she and Bobby were on the floor now laughing their asses off.

“Holy shit, you had a mother fucker dream didn’t you! You sick fuck!” Kimberly screamed out another stoner laugh.

“And I watched you take a piss to. What the hell man!” Tim yelled.

Tim who was twenty five and still living at home rubbed his forehead and began to laugh a little himself.

He said, “What the hell was in that pot?”

Kimberly, his big sister who was twenty seven and home visiting from Vermont said, “Oh don’t worry little brother. Just a little acid Bobby picked up back in Vermont on our way down to ol’ Blare, Indiana.

“What! Do you want me to end up in the Indiana State Mental Hospital down the road?”

She and Bobby started laughing uncontrollably again. A bang came downstairs indicating that they better keep it down. “What the hell’s going on up there?”

“It’s just us dad, sorry,” Kimberly said still trying not to laugh.

Bobby finally got ahold of himself. “Why were you trippin’ about screwin’ your mom and sister for man?”

“Eeewww, please don’t say it like that,” Kimberly told Bobby.

“I have no fucking idea man.” Tim said.


Of course you do Tim. The dirty letter ‘Sis’ in one of the Hustler magazines on your nightstand that you’ve had since you were six and still have in this year 1976 because you still live at home and don’t want to get a job and would rather jerk off and get high and listen to Sabbath all day while your parents are out working to support your lazy stoner ass, was the culprit of your sick and twisted acid trip nightmare mommy sister fuckfest courtesy of your big sisters laced weed who in her ever loving life would never let you lay a goddam hand on her much less watch her take a piss you no good, burnout pervert fuck.


Tim continued, “Well I’m never getting high with you guys again.”

“Oh yes you will sweetie, don’t worry,” Kimberly said.

“What the hell did you just say!”

























There once were two sisters that played in a metal band appropriately titled Witch Killer. Tori played bass and delivered vo-kill harshness and her little sis’ Traci played guitar. They struggled hard and played hard to and soon they found themselves on the road crushing clubs across America. It was good times for all including the sister’s boyfriends Steve and Bill who joined them on tour. After a brutal show in Terre Haute, Indiana, Traci found herself throwing back mini shots at the local watering hole with some fans and Witch Killer roadie Larry. Her man Steve didn’t feel like partying that night. He told her he was going to crash for the evening. Later she stumbled back to the tour bus in the wicked cold January night air. Opening the near frozen door to the tour bus, she stepped inside.

“Holy hell!” she yelled out drunkenly, “Somebody’s been fuckin’ on this beast! Smells like a damn whore house!” She laughed uncontrollably.

Then staggering down the narrow hallway, she swung open the dark blue curtain to a small room on the bus; the only area with a decent sized bed. Her brown eyes widened when she saw two large hands cupped around a milky white bottom, with long black strands of hair snaking its way down the back and over a hip. Traci covered her mouth in disbelief at what she saw; her man Steve was fucking her sister Tori, or rather Tori was fucking Steve. It was unfortunate. And it was also unfortunate for Tori the back stabbing bitch bass player and the tool beneath her warm thighs. Something snapped in Traci at that very moment. Her whole life flashed in front of her flooding eyes. Her thoughts were shrouded by flame, fire and unspeakable hate. She saw a picture in her mind of her and her sister holding each other with smiles as big as the sun. It turned to blackened ash. Black Sabbath Vol.4 was playing loudly on a cd player in the small room of infidelity. They never heard Traci swing open the blue curtain or even get on the bus. Nauseated by the horrible site, she drunkenly stumbled backwards toward the entrance of the bus. She exited and almost slipped down the large steps. She fell to her knees and threw up on the sidewalk. Slimy red chunks of sickness coated her midnight blue hair. It froze almost immediately.

The next day at sound check on the extreme eastern side of the state, the band began setting up their gear at Pierre’s in Fort Wayne. Unbeknownst of Traci’s findings, Tori knew something was wrong with her sister. Her body language gave it away. She hadn’t spoken to Tori all day. After a lackluster sound check, Tori asked, “What’s up little sis? You seem a little off today?” She didn’t want to speak to Tori much less even look at her. Also there were some members of Kendra Says Kill watching them play and she didn’t want to cause a scene. “I’m ok, just a little hung over, that’s all.”

All morning she replayed the heartbreaking scene over in her mind. Sadness mixed hate, hate mixed with rage, and rage created the hellish beast inside her scratching to get out. She knew what had to be done. There were a few hours to kill before Witch Killer went on that evening. Traci made good use of them by heading out to the local hardware shop.

It was another brutal show and another satisfied crowd of metalheads that night in Fort Wayne. Traci watched Kendra Says Kill from the side of the stage. She was on her third beer and second shot of Jim Beam, more than her five foot frame could handle. As usual at the after party Traci’s boyfriend Steve was full of lies. “You go ahead baby, I’m bushed again,” he told Traci convincingly. She wrapped her hands around his greasy hair and gave him a kiss. “You can’t handle this rock star thing can you?” She laughed as they turn away from each other. Her eyes turned red. A cringed, hateful grin glowed dark on her face. She could almost taste the blood.

The after party was in full affect as Traci stepped out in front of Pierres. The biting cold sliced at her face. A faint dust of snow began to fall. A large almost full moon shined brightly down on her midnight blue hair just as she took one last hard swig of whiskey before throwing the skull engraved flask to the ground. She walked up to her sister’s tour bus and went inside.

The sound of sex could be heard throughout the tour bus as Traci leisurely walked down the hallway. The aroma of sex filled the bus. She ran her fingernails along the sides of the wall as she walked along the plush, dark red carpet. In her hand she gripped a large wooden handle of an axe which she drug behind her. She came upon the dark blue curtain to her sister’s room. Be my Lover by Alice Cooper graced the sex tinged room as she slowly pulled the curtain open to find once again her whoring sister on top of Steve and his hands planted firmly on her full, luscious ass. Trace whistled along to Alice. The rage of a blue haired, psychotic young woman with clenched teeth reared itself on the mirrored reflection of the behemoth axe. The shiny chrome life ender sparkled on its first downward swing making a deep and painful indent into the cheating couples joined together snake and hole. A gush of blood splattered and splashed on Tori’s creamy white buttocks and wide hips. Lines of red dripped down her back thighs as the couple howled in unison. The second swing of death produced more blood and an even deeper gash. Tori and Steve’s screams turned to deathly moans. On the third and final swing, Traci exhaled a short breath of drunken, sister killing exhaustion when she lifted the heavy axe. SPLASH! No moans. Just Alice. “Baby if you wanna be my lover. You better take me home.”

Traci backed away from the blood soaked sheets on the bed with a smile on her face, admiring the deed she done. With a tilted head and a twisted grin she blew a bloody kiss to the heap of bloody flesh. “Together forever know,” she said. She lifted her killing tool and a haunting stare reflected back at her from the bloodied chrome of the axe. “Look at you little bloody princess, axe slashin’ sister killer.” She stepped out of the bus back into the cold January air. But she felt nothing.

Third from the sun (Prong version) began to play at the after party. She kneeled down with her back against the brick wall of the club. With her bloody axe in hand her sister’s blood dripped from her wrist to the snow covered ground. She lit a cigarette and patiently waited for the police to come and take her to her new home.






































The Pack




“OH! And her lights are out like New York City folks and here comes the pack again right on the home team like flies on shit.” An announcer wearing a silk shirt looking as if a flower garden vomited rotten roses all over it, gave the play by play of the roller derby finals at the county fairground skate rink to a mostly male audience of white trailer trash and truckers.

It was summer, 1977, and true anarchy was sweeping through the streets of New York City due to the blackout by a major power outage from a bolt of lightning. But 700 miles west of the big apple in the state of Indiana, a different kind of storm was brewing in the mind of Betty Bezerker, squad leader of the women’s roller derby team Witches on Wheels. They were ready to take home the trophy in the state finals against opposing team In Heat. For Betty, the sound of champagne bottles popping in a locker room among sweaty and rowdy females was far from her mind. She had a different agenda in mind; one that was written in blood. Betty’s team gathered in a huddle, minutes before the buzzer rang. She addressed them with authority.

“All right ladies, we have these cunt’s right where we want them. No fuck ups, especially you Melissa, (aka Melissa Mangler).

“Uh sorry Betty, I’m on my fucking period, give me a break.”

“Are you kidding me?” Betty said with a disgusted look on her face.

“Nope, bleeding like Carrie on her prom night,” Melissa said with a proud smile.

“That’s disgusting!” Jugulator Judy hissed at Melissa.

Killer Kendra chimed in. “You know, my Aunt saw that movie last year with her boyfriend; grossed him out so bad he fucking threw up on the people in front of them.”

“Eeeww,” Melissa moaned.

Betty was getting annoyed hearing her teammates talk of their troubles with bleeding and vomiting. Sweat was dripping down her face from under her black helmet. It began smearing her blue punkish looking mascara.

“Excuse me but this ain’t fucking chit chat tea time ladies. Melissa you keep on Darlene. Judy I wanna see you practically humping Traci, and Kendra you just knock bitches down like a motherfucker all except for Cherry. I got that little bitch’s ass!”

Melissa said, “Now Betty, go easy on Ms. Cherry Slaughter. She is Indiana’s reigning fuck queen, that little eighteen year old whorehouse on legs. Don’t want to bust her snatch all up.”

“Ah she’s legal eh,” Judy said, “If I was a lez I’d dogfuck the shit outta that little girl, but luckily ladies I like the cock.”

“Hey sluts we need to focus!” Betty yelled. The buzzer rang indicating the final round.

The announcer spoke into the microphone. “All right, here we go!”

The crowd roared.

“Let’s knock some bitches out!” Killer Kendra said while pounding her gloved fists together.

“Go get’em blondie,” Melissa Mangler said to her teammate and winked at her.

Betty slipped her skull mask over her circa 1975 Gilda Radner style frizzy brown hair. It was an intimidating sight. Rebel Rebel by David Bowie began to play over the pa as the pumped up females of Witches on Wheels made their way around the track. Some hillbilly dad in the stands started swinging his cowboy hat around while hooting and hollering as the ladies whisked past the crowd. He accidently spilled his beer on his son’s Kiss trading cards. The kid looked at him with angry possessed eyes. The ladies were in kill mode now. Elbows jab into stomachs. Fists pounded kidneys. Fingernails scratched at skin.

Jugulator Judy threatened the announcer when she passed by him, “You better play my song you bald fuck! And play it loud!”

“You got it Judy.” He said.

Judy is a Punk by the Ramones began blaring over the pa at a nearly illegal volume level.

Jugulator Judy saw her prey just up ahead. Her eyes glowed with violence. Like a spider ready to attack, she swung the opposing team member into the wrath of Killer Kendra. “Yo Kendra, knock this bitch out!” Kendra knocked the unlucky redhead of In Heat flat on her back and then straddled her with her thighs wrapped tight around her neck. Killer Kendra proceeded to smother her enemy’s face with her snatch that stunk of four hour old sex.

“Eat it bitch, eat it!” Killer Kendra laughed and screamed maniacally while forcing the redhead’s face into her smelly vagina. A referee came to the rescue of the poor In Heat player. He pulled Killer Kendra off of her. The sound of angry boo’s came from the crowd.

Betty Berzerker was drifting along the opposite side of the rink as her teammates entertained the crowd. Her mind ran rampant as she circled around the ring honing in on Cherry like a hawk stalking its prey. Cherry glanced over her shoulder. Betty’s skulls face was well within Cherry’s view weaving in and out of the other skaters. She was getting closer.

Betty’s mind drifted back to the other day when she came home from work early and saw her man Greg on top of Cherry Slaughter, fucking the shit out of her. Little whore! Her black hair hung over the edge of the bed and her eyes rolled back into her head and blue, thick veins popped out from her neck. Sweet sounds floated from her mouth like aroused butterflies. The cheating, horny couple was too busy to even notice Betty standing there just behind the cracked door, looking in with hurt and angry tears filling her eyes. ZZ Top silenced her fingernails scratching on the bedroom door.

Betty picked up her speed as she went around a turn. The roaring crowd had no effect on her concentration. She had her target in perfect sight now. Cherry’s black hair flowed behind her in a straight horizontal line. She looked like a witch in hell blazing past obnoxious and hairy spectators. Betty’s skates rolled quickly along the glossy floor of the rink. She thought of the other night when she was alone with Greg inside their trailer.

Glad to see you go by the Ramones spun around on the record player in the living room of Betty and Greg’s trailer around 8:30 two nights ago. A crest of light peered from the bathroom door where Greg stood in front of the mirror examining his hair. He was getting ready for the nights festivities of sixers, smokes and pool. Betty used caution when walking across the carpeted hallway towards the bathroom. She held a large wrench in her hand. It was her brothers. He let her borrow it to tighten the leaking pipe under the kitchen sink. Damn cheap trailers! It’s amazing how a simple tool can be so versatile. One minute you’re fixing a common household problem, the next you’re bludgeoning your cheating boyfriend to death in the bathroom.

She struck the back of his head with violent force. He fell to his knees and his head hit the toilet seat. The side of his face met the cold white seat and Betty relentlessly pounded his skull with the wrench. Good ol’ trusty wrench! A fine mist of blood sprayed onto her face with each hit. Two lines of blood crisscrossed each other as they sloped down the toilet bowl looking like a murderous barber shop pole. Her eyes were wide and wild with raging, killing excitement. She breathed heavily in and out as if climbing a treacherous mountain. Her man Greg lay dead on the bathroom floor. His lop sided head against the toilet seat was the only thing holding him up.

An elbow to Betty’s kidneys jolted her back into the present. The pack of witches surrounded Cherry with Betty close behind.

“What’s up whores. I see you’re using big girl skates tonight, no training wheels.” Cherry said.

“Suck it Cherry!” Melissa shouted.

“Oh I sucked it all right.” Cherry mockingly wiped the sides of her thick and glossy red lips. She exhaled a small evil laugh but it was followed by a startled gasp from the sight of Betty’s skull face mask right behind her.

“Hey cunt, rumor is you like being on your back!” Betty said clenching her teeth. Cherry released a confused huff of air making her sweet, pretty face blush with puzzlement. Betty grabbed a fistful of Cherry’s soft, black hair and yanked her head hard, snapping her neck making her slip backwards to the floor.

The back of eighteen year old Cherry’s head met the cold white skating rink floor. It made a crunching splat sound that made the pack of Witches on Wheels grind to a halting stop. Their large, brown skate wheels glided through blood, bone and black strands of hair on the skating rink floor. Horrified O’s formed on their mouths. Killer Kendra shrieked at the sight of Cherry’s smashed and bloody head. Melissa Mangler covered her mouth in disbelief. It nauseated her. The others just looked on in terror at what their leader had done; their eyes moving slowly back and forth between Betty and Cherry who was all fucked up, shaking, bleeding and dying on the floor. Blood gushed from her mouth as she shook.

As for Betty, she stood over Cherry’s convulsing, jerking body and felt not an ounce of remorse but only the natural high and extreme satisfaction of killing Cherry. She pulled her skull mask over her head revealing a sick smile. She fell to her knees. Her head cocked to the side as though studying Cherry’s body. She wiped a line of drool from the corner of her mouth and began laughing maniacally with her eyes insane and lost in a bloody dementia. She didn’t notice the other players of Witches on Wheels standing around her in a circle crying and holding their gloved hands over their mouths, or the crowd yelling and spitting obscenities, throwing beer cups, or even the Sex Pistols pretty vacant roaring over the pa.

The metallic click sound of handcuffs snapping shut pulled her out of her murder high when two policemen grabbed her by her wrists and cuffed her. The two cops pulled her up hard and started escorting her out of the now riot struck skate rink. She walked amongst raining cups of beer with a twisted, snarl of a smile on her face as she exited the skating rink. Betty was prison bound, which was also homebound.

Later that evening 700 miles east of Indiana, mayhem tore through the streets of New York City when Mayor Abe Beame declared a state of emergency. The city was pitch black. The darkness was suffocating.






The Gretchens





Dusk would soon be settling down on the small town of Helt, Indiana and a white, two story Victorian house nestled in a peaceful neighborhood would be covered in its shadowy blanket. Upstairs in that old house were three young female friends of the same age. They were all eighteen; one with brown hair, one with blonde and one with red, all pretty and straight A students. They called themselves the Gretchen’s. They were a unique clique if there ever was one. Their parents were rich and indulged them with cars, horses and the finest clothing.

The girls brushed their hair in unison while sitting in front of a large dresser mirror. Mozart played in the background. It filled the room. The deep orange glow of the lowering sun reflected into the mirror, coloring the sisters Gretchen in the color gold. The girl with the long blonde hair known as Gretchen number one and the Gretchen’s leader, sat in between Gretchen number two and three. She laid her pretty eyes on them in the mirror. “It is almost time,” she said. Tonight was recruitment night, for the Gretchen’s were once four but now they were three. Previous Gretchen number four did not play by the rules, so she had to go. She was buried somewhere out in the cornfield behind Gretchen number one’s parents Victorian house.

The clock on the wall showed eight thirty. Soon it would be nine. The Gretchen’s pinned up their hair of three different colors into tight, neat buns but they did not look like prudes. Their pretty faces were smooth and perfect and they wore pretty red lipstick on their pretty mouths. Sweet, lovely Gretchen sisters. Just a touch of perfume to their necks was the final touch and then it was nine o’clock. “Shall we sisters?” Gretchen number one said. “We shall.” Gretchen number two and three said in unison. They proceeded to put on three long wigs of the same length and of the same pitch black color. Then looking very pretty and smelling very nice, Gretchen number one crossed her arms and took her Gretchen sisters by their hands pulling them in close to her where they slid their tongues into her mouth simultaneously. All three were as one. The kiss ended. And the final accessory lay before them in an open suitcase sitting on top of the dresser. Three masks of the same white color stared back at them. These are the Gretchens and off they went into the night. Stalking, lurking and waiting.

Back in the saddle by Aerosmith began to play on Devin’s tape deck of his ’72 Camaro as he pulled into the parking lot of the ‘Freeze it’ drive-in. A medium sized sign on the roof displayed a frozen dairy treat wearing a sheriff’s hat. Above the character were the words “Ya’ll freeze it!” It was the summer of 1976 and only one week left of school and already the teenage festivities of summer were in full swing: late night drive-in movies, all night outside beer parties and late night double dipped ice cream and cheeseburger runs. Devin’s best friend Russ was in the passenger’s seat, their girlfriends Candice and April were in the back primping their hair and applying cherry red lipstick under the barely visible glow of a compact mirror light.

Devin eased into a parking space where there was a metal framed menu to his left. He killed the engine. A family of moths danced around a set of bright tubular lights attached to the outside of the building. Somewhere the sound of a little boy and girl that were up way past their bedtime could be heard screaming and laughing in their parents Buick. A virtual soundtrack of summer played from parked cars with the windows down. King of the nighttime world by Kiss could be heard in one car, while in another a young couple made out to Stairway to Heaven; and some kids smoking a joint in the backseat sang along to Alice Cooper, No more Mr. Nice Guy.

Devin clapped his hands together in delight and said, “Well I know what I’m having. Delirious Dave’s Double bacon cheeseburger with onion rings.”

“You get the same thing every time man,” Russ laughed

“It’s the best thing on the menu, plus I love all that grease.” Devin said.

Candice in the back seat gave a gagging sound upon hearing her boyfriend’s love of grease. She told him, “That’s gross Devin. Anyway I don’t have much of an appetite after seeing that movie. It was a little gory for me.”

“It was only at the end when they dumped that bucket of pig’s blood on…”

“Ok Russ,” his girlfriend April broke in, “Don’t make everyone sick. I don’t think Devin would appreciate vomit all over his back seat.”

“Thanks April,” Devin told her looking into his rearview mirror. “You want anything?”

“No, I’m good,” she said.

Candice finished applying her lipstick and blew out a sigh like she was bored. “I gotta pee.”

Devin lifted his seat up so the girls could get out. Candice untucked her skin tight, red button fly shorts from her inner thigh after stepping out of the car.

Then she said, “Now that I think of it, get me a chocolate shake.”

“Gotcha,” Devin snapped his fingers at her and nodded.

Candice fluttered her fingers at him, obviously feeling very sexy in her tight red shorts and black top tied in a knot showing off her belly button.

“Be right back,” she said in a high, sing song voice.

Her six inch tan high heels clicked away in the summer night. Devin shook his head in amazement, feeling a little embarrassed by his girlfriend’s overly done makeup and slutty appearance. Yet, he couldn’t believe he had a girl like Candice Moore. He enjoyed her wavy blonde hair and those nice, shapely legs of hers very much, but the truth was her personality was for shit and she very well could have been raised by Cruella Deville. But he sure loved fucking her; besides Candice had the gift. In Devin’s younger days he would often hear the older guys in the locker room after football practice brag about how their girlfriends would get them soaking wet during sex. Now he knew what they were talking about. And Candice did it every time. She came so hard one night in his room she shot it clear to the damn ceiling leaving a good size stain. He put his pillow over her mouth to muffle the sound of her orgasm but still got a bump on his floor from downstairs with someone yelling up, “What’s going on up there?”

He felt disgusted with himself at times. He was just using Candice for sex. He was at a crossroads in his life. As the star quarterback of his high school football team with the hot girlfriend, he hadn’t a clue what he wanted. He was unhappy.

“So when are you going to break it off with ol’ Candice?” Russ said.

It was as if Devin’s best friend could read his thoughts.

“What?” Devin responded in confusion.

Rusty smirked at him. “What do you mean what? C’mon man, she isn’t any good for you and you know it. Just because she gets you all wet doesn’t mean shit. You’re unhappy man and I can see it. There’s better out there for you.”

Devin really didn’t know what to say. He sat silent, looking out the window. He knew Russ was right. There was something better out there. He was just having too much fun with Candice’s sexual water park. Finally he said without looking at Russ, “Yeah I know man.”

Meanwhile Candice and April stepped inside the women’s restroom located in the back of the building. The strong scent of female rushed into them. April stood in front of the mirror brushing her straight black hair. Candice went into one of the stalls to relieve herself from the oversized Styrofoam cup of Coca Cola she drank at the movies an hour ago. She unbuttoned her red shorts and wiggled out of them. She sat down on the toilet. She took out her lipstick case and added a little more to her lips. Vanity never stops, not even on the toilet. She gabbed as she peed.

“So, Devin has been acting weird lately. I don’t know what his problem is. He acts all moody.”

“You stop putting out?” April joked as she brushed her hair.

“Uh, no,” Candice said as if insulted.

“You don’t think he has his eyes on another do you?” April asked thoughtfully.

“No. He likes what I got in between too much to stray, but thanks for helping me put that little bitch in her place today. That little shittard Cindy Anderson. She kept gawking at Devin today in the hall like some google eyed puppy dog and I wasn’t having it.”

You know, she works here,” April said.

“Oh really,” Candice said devilishly.

She stopped peeing and then sat up with her ass hovering inches above the toilet seat. “All done. Oh wait, hold your ears hon.”

“What?” April said still brushing her hair.

Candice released gas into the smelly old porcelain shitter.

“God Candy,” April laughed out loud.

Candice explained, “Excuse me but I never fart in front of Devin. I’ve been holding it in all night. Now let’s go pay a visit to our little googly eyed friend.”


“Please Allison, can you just take their order. Please don’t make me go out there.” The look on sixteen year old Cindy Andersons face was that of sheer terror at the sight of Devin sitting in his Camaro in the parking lot. If there ever was a dream guy for Cindy it was Devin; Mr. star quarterback with the almost shoulder length sandy blonde hair and dreamy blue eyes. Cindy would shyly smile at him in the hallways at school and her heart would race when he’d smiled back giving her a look that he was somewhat interested and that he would love for a chance to talk to her. But that idea was shot down today when Candice slid up behind him and put her arms around his waist, all while chewing and popping her bubblegum very obnoxiously and giving Cindy a nasty, dirty look. Don’t be staring at my man you lame dumb fuck. Go back to your little art class.

Cindy bit her bottom lip nervously as she looked out the large window of the Freeze it, still trying to convince her co-worker Allison to go take their order.

“Now is your chance kid. Don’t be a chickenshit,” Allison laughed. “It’s just a boy Cindy.” It was easy for Allison to say because she was nineteen, not sixteen and sweating bullets at the moment like Cindy.

“Would somebody just take their order for Christ sakes?” Ray, their manager said bitterly.

Allison nudged Cindy but she was a statue standing there in the noisy kitchen area of sizzling burgers and milkshake machines. Cindy knew she couldn’t go out there after what happened earlier today at school, because of what that evil witch in the gaudy makeup and six inch, ugly brown platform shoes did to her. A lump formed in her throat at the memory of how Candice and April cornered her outside of her art class. She pinned her to the wall and got in her face telling her to keep her goddamn puppy dog eyes off of her man. “He likes this too much baby,” Candice had told her as she took Cindy’s hand and thrust it into the middle of her tight red shorts.

Before Cindy knew what was happening, she felt herself being pushed out of the door by Allison telling her to go take their order. Once she was outside she felt naked and feeling like a dork in her ‘Freeze it’ uniform and apron. Cindy loved art and liked to read and wore glasses and had classic straight brown ’76 style hair, but underneath what she believed to be a plain jane was a very pretty girl. Anyone with eyes could see it, only hers didn’t.

She took a deep breath and told herself to quit being such a baby. She slowly walked up to Devin’s Camaro. Her legs felt shaky as she walked and she could feel sweat forming under her arms. Did I remember to put deodorant on? She did. With as much courage as she could summon in herself, she went up to his car, hoping and praying that Candice wasn’t sitting in the front seat. A great relief came over her when she saw Russ, his best friend. Then she quickly scanned the backseat. No one there honey. The mean witch is stinking up the bathroom right now. You’re safe for now. The window was rolled down and Devin was slouched in his seat resting his head in the palm of his hand. He looks so bummed out, she thought, and then, “Hi guys, are you ready to order.” Devin looked up at the sound of her voice. Much to Cindy’s surprise his eyes seemed to brighten when he saw her. She got the feeling that he was happy to see her. She hoped that he was.

“Hey,” Devin said with an awkward slow type of wave to her, but he was smiling.

“Hey,” Cindy responded shyly and she was smiling to. She bit at her bottom lip nervously.

“You go to my school right?” Devin asked her.

“Um yeah. I’m a junior.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’re a football right?” She said and then cringed at her embarrassing flub in speech.

“What?” Devin said.

“I mean you’re on the football team.” She could feel her face turning hot.

“Oh. Yeah I play football’” he told her.

Then the typical awkward silence ensued. The only sound now seemed to be those screaming kids in the Buick that were out past their bedtime. Finally Russ came to his friend’s aid and broke the ice.

He leaned over a bit and asked Cindy, “You’re into art stuff right?”

She let out just a small laugh. “Uh, yeah I guess. Well pottery mostly.”

“So you make pots?” Now Devin felt the warmth of blood rushing to his face because of his stupid comment. Cindy just looked at him not saying anything. Then she laughed but it was a genuine laugh. Devin felt like an idiot.

“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you it’s just I’ve never heard the art of making pottery put that way. But sure I make pots.” She laughed.

“What can you say, he’s a jock,” Russ told her and then jokingly punched Devin’s arm.

She laughed again and so did Devin and suddenly the tension was melting away. See honey, it’s not so bad, this whole talking to boy’s thing.

“I’d like to see some of it sometime,” Devin told her but she didn’t understand. Her smile faded.

“See what?” She said.

“Your pottery.”

Are you joking? You’re a football jock and you want to see some nerdy chic’s pottery? She couldn’t help but think.

“You do?” She said in a stunned voice.

“Well yeah, why not?” He said.

Still confused she shook her head and told him, “Ok I guess.” But her smile returned. She looked bashfully at the ground.

“Can I have your number? He asked her.

What? Did he just ask me for my number? Mr. star quarterback.

There was a silent gap for a moment because Cindy was dumbstruck. She looked at Devin as if he was nuts for asking for her number.

“You ok there?” He asked Cindy.

“Uh, what? Oh yeah I’m fine.” She said as if coming out of her daze.

“So can I call you?” He asked.

She could feel more sweat under her arms.

“Sure that’s fine.” She fumbled with her notepad for taking orders and wrote down her number. She gave it to him.

He took it. “Cool, thanks. So do you like music?”

“Uh, yeah, most kids do.” She tucked her hair behind her ear again.

“I just picked up the new Aerosmith today. It rocks.”

Russ shook his head and couldn’t help but laugh at this because the album was called Rocks. Despite all the awkwardness and goofy conversation babble, Russ was glad to see his friend laughing and smiling with this new girl that was the complete opposite of the thing holding Devin down.

Both Cindy and Devin trailed off for a few more minutes talking really about nothing. As they talked, Cindy could barely contain the excitement she was feeling inside. Things like this don’t happen to people like Cindy Anderson. Popular boys don’t ask out the shy, quiet girls. What she didn’t know, was that she was the kind of girl that Devin wanted all along. She displaced the idea that is was some kind of mean joke and just went with it. It feels good to feel good, she thought with a smile. But Cindy’s happy, warm and tingling feeling couldn’t last forever. That’s only in fairy tales. The sound of high heel shoes clicking on hot pavement came up behind her.

“Well, if it isn’t the little play-doh girl.”

Cindy froze and returned to her former extroverted shy self upon hearing Candice behind her.

“Get out of my way. I’d like to get in the car.”

Cindy stepped to her left so Candice and April could get in the car. Once they were situated in the back Candice unleashed her true colors onto Cindy.

“Well are you gonna take our order or just stand there?”

Cindy frowned and Devin looked away. He stared blankly at the steering wheel.

Ok, what’ll you have?” Cindy’s voice was soft and choked like she could cry any minute.

“What? Speak up pottery girl. I can’t hear you,” Candice said viciously.

“What can I get you?” Cindy said a little louder.

“That’s better pottery girl,” Candice remarked meanly.

Devin had lost his appetite. He suddenly no longer wanted Delirious Dave’s Double bacon cheeseburger with onion rings anymore. Instead he just wanted hide his head and drive away. But you’re not are you Devin. You’re going to sit there and listen to what Ms. Blonde waterworks has to say to the nice girl that you deep down really like and would rather be with.

There was an uneasy silence in the car and for good reason. Candice was pretty good at making scenes. This would be her best yet. She kicked the back of Devin’s seat.

“Well order!” She said bitch like.

Reluctantly he did. “Uh, I’ll just have Delirious Dave’s Double bacon cheeseburger with onion rings please.”

Cindy began writing his order down. But it was hard to hold her tears back. A lump formed in her throat.

“You gettin’ all that honey?” Candice wouldn’t let up. “Don’t mess our order up.”

April giggled quietly to herself. She was Candice’s best gal crony. She and Russ then gave their orders. Cindy’s face was red with humiliation. She was on the verge of tears and Candice went in for the kill.

“What’s the matter sweetie. Are you gonna cry?” There was amazement in her laugh.

“You’re what sixteen right? And you’re gonna fucking cry?” She couldn’t help but laugh. And she did like the awful, lowly person she was.

“Well don’t do it here. Go and cry to that dope head friend of yours Allison or whatever the fuck her name is.”

Everyone was silent in the car except for April who was giggling to herself and obviously loving Candice tear Cindy apart. No one dared to tell her to stop. They all knew better. Especially you Devin, Mr. star fucking quarterback bringing home the trophy for your team in 1974, 1975 and 1976. You’re not going to say a damn thing. Because if you do its no waterworks for you tonight; let that bitch verbally rape Cindy right in front of you and don’t do anything about it. Just keep staring at your steering wheel. That will really win over Cindy won’t it? She’ll appreciate that.

Cindy stared at Devin with tears starting to roll down her eyes. He couldn’t look at her. But he did. And then she knew by the look in his eyes that this was his world; a world of being popular and having a hot girlfriend and a hot car, and her world of art, books, and pottery couldn’t compete with that other world. His eyes told her all of this. But they also showed that he did want to tell Candice to fuck off but he couldn’t.

Cindy turned away and began walking away from the Camaro.

“Oh wait I almost forgot pottery girl. Get me a chocolate milkshake and please don’t get any tears in it.”

April finally broke out into the laugh she’d been holding in. As Cindy walked away she could hear faintly but very clearly everything Candice was saying in the back seat.

“Go cry in your pottery, fucking loser. You’re not even pretty. Hey babe can you turn some music on?” She said to Devin as if nothing ever happened. And then her lipstick case popped open.


“Oh jesus kid, that was brutal. I’m so sorry Cindy. Are you ok?” Allison did her best to console Cindy after the verbal attack against her. “I could tell just by the way you looked out there that Candice was cutting you up pretty bad.” Allison put her hand gently on Cindy’s shoulder as she kept her head down and scooped chocolate ice cream into a large metal container. Her brown hair hung over her face, hiding her tears and embarrassment. She stopped scooping the ice cream and covered her face trying not to cry but her anguish flowed out anyway. She coughed out a cry and the tears came. “Come with me honey.” Allison took her by the arm and led her to the back storage room. They passed Ray, the owner of The Freeze it. He threw his arms up and said, “This milkshake ain’t gonna make itself ya know.”

“Well this is emergency girl time Ray,” Allison told him with glaring eyes.

He waved his hands at her and cursed, “Ahh shit!” and reluctantly began making the best damn milkshake Candice Moore will ever put her sweet lips to.

Allison and Cindy went inside the small storage room behind the kitchen. It was a standard storage area with dried foods and canned goods. And also the spot for Allison to take a few hits of marijuana. Ray didn’t care just as long she didn’t fuck up people’s food or mess with the cash register. He would occasionally join her sometimes to.

Allison closed the door and gave Cindy a hug but Cindy couldn’t hold back any longer. She let out a cry that embarrassed the hell out of her but she couldn’t help it. It only lasted a second or two but still made her feel like she was ten.

“Shhh, it’s all right honey,” Allison told her and they both sunk to the floor holding each other. Cindy let out another cry not quite as heartbreaking as the first, but still a good cry; which is what she needed. So Allison let her.

When she was done she sat there quietly on the floor. She felt like an idiot.

“I’m sorry about all this Allison, me crying like a baby.”

“Kid you shouldn’t be ashamed of crying. What that bitch did was pretty harsh. Words can hurt badly sometimes, you know.”

Cindy sighed. “Yeah I know, but still.”

Allison tucked Cindy’s hair back behind her ear.

“I suppose I don’t have to ask what she said right?” God she is such a bitch; treats everyone like shit, especially Devin.” Allison cringed after saying his name. “Oh, sorry.”

“That’s ok, she can have him,” Cindy said as she wiped some tears away from her face. She knew better though. She was just venting.

“Now I know you really don’t mean that Cindy. You like Devin and I saw you talking to him out there before Frankenstein came walking up.”

Cindy laughed a little at Allison’s monster reference to the lovely non-farting Candice.

“Don’t give up on him yet ok.”

Cindy shook her head and sniffled.

“Hey, I know what will make you feel better.” Allison said with a mischievous smile.

Cindy put her hands up. “Oh no, I’m not doing that.”

Allison pulled a joint out from her pocket. “C’mon, just one hit. It ain’t gonna hurt you.” She lit it and went to turn on the small radio sitting on the floor in the corner. No matter what by Goldfinger was playing. Allison sat Indian style in front of Cindy and handed her the joint.

“But what about Ray,” Cindy asked with a worried look.

“Ray shmay. He doesn’t care. Besides, the shape you’re in he probably would recommend it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Girl, put this in your mouth and hit it,” Allison commanded. And then she laughed at the sixteen year old when she coughed out a cloud of smoke. Allison was nineteen and had more life experience. Cindy was glad she was there for her now. Allison was that girl that didn’t mind writing you a late slip for study hall or giving you a joint or sneaking you out of your house to see Kiss.

Allison took the joint from Cindy. “Whoa there kid. Take it easy. You gotta start off slow, like this.” She took a hit. “So, what do you say we dress up ol’ Candice’s milkshake, make it extra special.” Cindy’s eyes gleamed with excitement at the thought of putting bodily fluids into Candice’s milkshake. Of course they wouldn’t but it sure was fun to think about.

“How about we sneeze in it,” Cindy said. “Or I can accidentally clip my toenails over it.” She was feeling better all ready.

It was getting late and there were only two cars left in the parking lot of the Freeze it, one being the screaming kids in the Buick. Their parents decided they were out long enough and ice cream time was over. They left. The other was Devin’s Camaro.

Candice belched after her last suck of chocolate shake through a red and white swirled straw.

“That was damn good,” she said and belched again. Apparently farting wasn’t allowed in her world but belching was perfectly acceptable.

“So are we still on for Pete’s all-nighter?” April asked.

“I heard he has four kegs,” Russ said with a smile. “You can count me in for sure.”

Candice rose up and put her hands on Devin’s shoulders. She whispered in his ear. “Don’t you get to drunk tonight. I still wanna play.”

He patted her hand and gazed at her through the rearview mirror. Her eyes spelled sex. The truth was Devon didn’t feel much like drinking tonight or hanging out or even fucking Candice, (which he couldn’t believe). He wanted to find the nearest gutter as quick as possible and drop her ass off. Then he would go to Cindy and let her see the real Devin, the one that hates living up to being Mr. Perfect fucking jock with the unbeatable football record and the ejaculating girlfriend. He would tell Cindy that he was sorry for not speaking up when his bitch girlfriend was tearing her to pieces. But you’re not going to do a damn thing are you Devin? You’re just going to keep on taking it and living a lie and pretending you enjoy being popular when all you want to do sometimes is just get stoned in your room and listen to Zeppelin 4 and read For whom the bell tolls by Earnest Hemingway and oh what a laugh fucking riot that would be for all your jock buddies knowing their star quarterback likes to read. What a pussy!

Devin turned to Russ as if asking him what he should do. Russ nodded to the ignition.

“Everybody ready?” Devin said with a fake smile that almost hurt on his face. Just as he began to turn the key, Allison came walking out and up to his car. Devin held off on turning on his Camaro. She knelt down by his window.

“You all going out to Petes?” She asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” Devin told her.

“Sorry babe but this is a kegger not a reefer convention,” Candice said while applying more lipstick.

“Screw you Candice,” Allison piped back. “And by the way that was a real shitty thing you did to Cindy earlier. She’s never done anything to you. She didn’t deserve that.”

Candice could really care less about Cindy’s feelings or what Allison had to say. “Oh my little heart is breaking for poor little Cindy. Devin let’s blow this place, reefer head there is stinking up your car. God I can smell her from here.”

Devin couldn’t help but laugh just a little because Allison did smell like the back of Willie Nelson’s tour bus, but his smile faded when he looked at her and saw her staring out past his car with a blank expression.

“Allison, are you all right?”

“She’s probably stoned out of her mind Devin, let’s go!” Candice said.

“I thought I saw something.” Allison said, but more to herself than Devin.

“What’s wrong Allis….”

And then Devin heard the sound of footsteps from somewhere outside. It sounded like running. Allison jumped back from the car and gasped. Devin was about to ask her what the hell she was doing and then he saw a plain white face rushing towards him in his rearview mirror.

There was a five second span between Allison jumping away from his Camaro and him seeing the white face running up to him in his mirror. The two events happened so fast that Devin didn’t have time to think. The person in the white mask thrust a ball bat into Allison’s stomach sending her backwards to the ground. Candice had snapped her lipstick case shut just as Allison hit the ground. Candice was about to make another remark when she heard the sound of feet running up the trunk of the Camaro and then stomping on the roof.

“What the hell?” Russ yelled. But he was cut off when a voice which Devin recognized as female barked into the open driver’s side window. “Get out of the car!”

The white masked fiend pulled Devin by his hair, dragging him out of the car and onto the ground.

Then, one of the fiends that was jumping on the roof jumped down onto the hood. They began taunting Russ, April and Candice who were trapped by the white masked terrorizers. They had no idea they were being ambushed by the Gretchen’s and that this was recruitment night for they were in search of Gretchen number four. Fortunately their prime candidate was in the storage room cleaning up for the night. Not really though, Cindy was just finishing up the joint that Allison gave her earlier. Gretchen number three ,who was on the trunk, put her face right up to the window and stared at Candice who was screaming hysterically. Gretchen number two on the hood put her thumb to her nose and wiggled her fingers playfully at Russ. He noticed their long black hair. But it didn’t look like hair to him. He realized they were wigs. And he also noticed they were wearing something like raincoats but were more like ponchos that were a clear blue, almost like what a surgeon would wear. Gretchen number three put her fingers behind her head giving herself devil horns at Candice. It was like a psychotic funhouse in hell.

Then their leader, Gretchen number one, spoke. “Sisters, sisters. Come now. Playtime is over.” Her voice was strangely calm Devin thought as he sat on the pavement with his hands now tied behind him. Allison’s were tied as well.

“I know we are all excited but there is work to be done.” Her voice sounded muffled from her mask. Who does she sound like? Devin suddenly thought. He couldn’t quite pinpoint who Gretchen number one reminded him off. Both Gretchen number two and three obeyed their leader like good little terrorizers and went to her and stood, one on each side. All three Gretchen’s looked down at Devin with their white, emotionless masks of the same color. Gretchen number two, now holding the bat, slowly hit it in her palm. The front door of the Camaro was wide open. Gretchen number one extended her hand to Russ who had his back up against the window.

“Please come out and join us. Everything is fine. I shall not hurt you.” When she spoke it was as if she had a constant smile on her face. The muffled tone from her mask made it all the creepier. Russ slowly pulled himself out. She took his hand and politely helped him out. He sat on the ground next to Devin. Gretchen number two began tying his hands behinds his back. Gretchen number one opened the back door and Candice let out a slow, dull scream.

“Ladies, please join us,” she said and extended her hand again. “I will not hurt you if you obey our instructions. If you do not adhere to our instructions I will hurt you oh so very badly.” She bowed to them and that made Devin’s stomach coil up in knots. The girls got out of the car and Gretchen number three tied their hands behind them and sat them next to Devin and Russ.

“Now that we’re all settled, I’d like to introduce ourselves. We are the Gretchen’s. I am Gretchen number one and these are my sisters Gretchen two and three. I’m sure you’ll find them lovely.” Their leader bowed once again. Gretchen number two stood bowlegged and waved shyly at the hostages like a little schoolgirl. She still had the ball bat in her grip.

“Up, up everyone. C’mon, the show is about to start.” Gretchen number one clapped her hands and her victims stood up one by one. They started walking in single file with Gretchen number two keeping guard, watching them. Gretchen number one led the way. They went through the employee entrance of the Freeze it.

“Now where is our little prize at? What is the little darling’s name? Oh yes, Cindy.” No one answered Gretchen number ones question and she didn’t like being ignored. She was holding a big, black duffle bag that clicked and clanked as they walked. In her muffled, happy smiley face tone, she said, “Oh my dears, I have toys inside here that can make you talk instantly.”

Suddenly Allison said, “I don’t know where she is. Maybe the john or something”

“Shall we check in here sisters?” Gretchen number one turned her attention to the closed door that said dry storage on it. “We shall,” Both Gretchen number two and three said in unison. They all went to the door. It was dark inside the place because Allison had shut off the lights after her boss Ray left telling her to close up. Gretchen number one untied Allison’s hands so she could knock on the door.

“Please dear, don’t try to be a hero. Just simply knock on the door. We don’t want to frighten our little doe do we?”

Allison did as she was told and she knocked on the storage room door. She could hear music playing on the radio. She heard a cough and then the door slowly opened. The Gretchen’s had the others off to the side of the door so Cindy couldn’t see them, only Allison.

A line of bright light grazed across the kitchen area as Cindy opened the door. “Oh sorry. I was just cleaning up a little in here. Are you about ready to close up?” Cindy’s felt her face turn red because she knew Allison caught her smoking that joint. That’s quite all right honey. You enjoy it. It might be your last, Allison thought. “Are you ok Allison,” Cindy asked her. “You look scared or something.” And then out of the shadows of the dark kitchen, Gretchen number one’s white face appeared behind Allison. Cindy gasped and covered her mouth like she had been startled.

“Hello my darling Cindy,” Gretchen number one said as she pushed Allison into the room. Then the others were herded in by the other Gretchen sisters. The room filled up so quickly, Cindy didn’t have time to register what was going on. It was a shock to her system seeing Allison, Devin and Candice and these people in these white masks out of nowhere. Gretchen number two and three came in cackling and making their faces once again. Their clear blue poncho’s crinkled and made an awful plastic sound as they moved about the small room, terrorizing everyone in it.

“Settle down sisters,” Gretchen number one told them the way a grandmother would tell her grandchildren to settle down about the fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies she just made. There were a total of nine people in the small room. “Please, everyone take a seat,” the leader said. The six scared as hell teens did as they were told. They all knelt down and sat in a row. The three Gretchen’s stood before them, looking down on them.

“Wonderful. Now that we’re all settled, let’s begin,” Gretchen number one said with demented gaiety in her voice. That voice, what is that voice, Devin thought again. It reminded him momentarily of this hippy tour guide he had at the zoo one time.

“Welcome to the show my friends. We are the Gretchen’s and we’ll be performing for you this evening.” Gretchen one bowed to them and Gretchen two and three followed suit. She continued in her happy, muffled voice, “Tonight is a very special night for we will be recruiting one of you to join our sisterhood, the unique Gretchen’s.” Gretchen two and three applauded. Gretchen one bowed once more.

What did Allison put in this pot? I must be tripping out. One minute I’m rearranging cans of peas and corn and the next I’m witnessing some freakshow with Candice Moore in the room. What the hell is going on? Cindy thought to herself.

No you are not tripping out sweet heart. Don’t you know you are part of the show? The Gretchen’s want you and they shall have you.

“Candice my dear, please come shall you.” Gretchen one motioned to Candice and then extended her hand to her. Candice shook her head no with a death frown frozen on her face. “Sisters,” Gretchen one said. Gretchen two and three grabbed Candice and pulled her violently to their leader who was now sitting on the floor. She patted her lap and said, “Don’t be scared now, this shall be very exciting.” Candice fought back but Gretchen two and three forced her down into Gretchen one’s lap. She began to stroke Candice’s blonde hair while her sister’s held her arms down.

April cried out, “What are you going to do to her.”

“Oh my dear, your friend is in good hands. My sisters are the best at what they do. You’ll see.”

“Now, Cindy my dear. I have a question for you.” Cindy was sitting directly in front of Gretchen number one with Candice squirming around in her lap.

“Do you like Candice?”

Cindy looked away with her brown hair hanging in her face.

“Darling, its ok. You don’t like Candice do you?”

Finally Cindy shook her head slowly back and forth. Candice let out a scared cry.

“Do you think she is cunt?” Gretchen number three shouted.

“Oh dear sister Gretchen, language please. I am so sorry you had to hear that Cindy. What my lovely sister meant to say was do you think she is a fucking whore cunt?” And that’s when Devin felt the true, sick evil behind that mask. “Is she mean to you? Does she say hurtful things to you? Does she make you feel like a worthless sack of shit?” Gretchen one asked Cindy these questions in her happy, demented voice. Cindy covered her mouth trying to hold back her tears because this monster in this mask was nailing every feeling she ever had about Candice. Then Gretchen one’s voice turned soft. “Oh dear Cindy, we’ve been watching you, and we know that you are hurting and that Candice is part of the problem,” she said as she tucked Cindy’s hair behind her ear. Unbeknownst to Cindy, the Gretchen’s have been spying on her in the halls at school, watching her every move. Gretchen number one even stood outside of her bedroom window last night watching her sleep. She hummed a tune to herself as she stalked.

Cindy was crying now and Gretchen one leaned in towards her. She said, “You really don’t like Candice do you honey?” Then she whispered through her emotionless white mask, “What shall we do about that?”

“Let the show begin then!” Gretchen one said brightly.

“Gretchen number two, you’ve been a good girl thus far. Retrieve your black bag and let’s see what goodies you have inside.”

Gretchen one put her hand inside the bag and pulled out an x acto knife. Candice screamed and squirmed some more at the sight of the knife. April shrieked. Russ looked pale. Devin’s face was disgusted and Cindy was as calm as ever. Her tears were gone.

“Sisters,” Gretchen one motioned and nodded to Candice. Gretchen two and three each took one of Candice’s ankles and pulled up her legs. She screamed in terror.

“Ladies and Gentlemen this is our show and Cindy shall be our director,” Gretchen one said proudly. “Where would you like us to start?”

Great Expectaions by Kiss began playing on the radio; more than likely on some college station because Kiss never got any mainstream airplay.

“Oh my dear Candice, please sit back and relax for this is going to hurt oh so very badly,” Gretchen one told her and bowed again. The darling Gretchen’s performed their show on Candice’s legs as directed by Cindy. She would point to where on her legs and they would cut and Candice would scream. Gretchen number one even allowed Gretchen number two to masturbate during the cutting session. She said, “Go ahead darling sister. It’s ok. Make yourself feel good and watch as we slice her legs all up.”

Devin couldn’t look at the bloodshow unfolding before him. He turned his head away only looking every few seconds. But when he did brave a peek there would be more blood than the last time he looked. He felt queasy in his stomach, like the way he would feel when he was a kid watching a scary movie with his parents and them telling him to turn his head. Then he realized why the Gretchen’s were wearing those clear blue, plastic ponchos. The event was rather messy. The red color all over Candice’s legs now matched the color of her short red shorts. Her high pitched screams would only stop when she would cry out, “Make them stop!”

Devin didn’t know who he hated more at the moment, Cindy or these freaks in these masks.

Allison with her eyes glassy and bloodshot watched Cindy, thinking she should have used tough love on her a couple of hours ago when she was crying over Candice. Buck up kiddo, tell Candice Moore to eat shit! She thought. But she had to play big sis’ with the shoulder to cry on and now she was watching these monsters control Cindy. She saw the look of satisfaction in her eyes, the pleasure and the power too. It made her sicker than seeing Candice’s bloody, cut up legs. “I could tell just by the way you looked out there that Candice was cutting you up pretty bad.” What she had said to Cindy earlier popped into her head suddenly as she saw Candice with her legs being held up by those monsters in the white masks against her will. Allison knew that the Gretchen’s had Cindy in their web.

The cutting party lasted about thirty minutes and she was cut up pretty bad. Near the end Candice was shivering and crying weakly from exhaustion. “Please Cindy, she’s had enough. She’s going to bleed to death,” April had pleaded with tears running down her face, her voice quiet and shaky. And then it was over. The cutting had stopped.

“There there now dear Candice, all done,” Gretchen one said gently stroking Candice’s hair. The excitement in Cindy’s eyes had gone away. She looked as lifeless as the three white masks’ in front of her.

“Oh shoot!” Gretchen number three said. “We forgot the alcohol. We could’ve burned your pretty little legs right off doll!”

“Now it is time for the grand finale of our show and the recruitment process shall be complete. Dear Gretchen two please hand me your black bag.” She gave the bag to Gretchen one. The sound of metal hitting together could be heard inside. All eyes were on Gretchen one as she reached in and pulled a large machete. Cindy’s eyes widened. Both Allison and April gasped loudly at the same time; their female breathe full of horror at the sight of the large, sharp and shiny object. Gretchen one began to explain to young Cindy what was to happen.

“Now my dear, this is for you.” She handed the machete to Cindy. She took it and wrapped her small hands around the big black handle.

“Do with it what you will. You can torture her long into the night if you wish or you can end it quick.”

Gretchen two said, “Or you can ram it right up her cunt!”

“Or you can chop off her arms and legs,” Gretchen three suggested.

“Sisters please, this is Cindy’s night. It is her decision. She shall be one of us once the deed is done.” Gretchen one stared directly at Cindy. She swept her hand gently across the sixteen year olds face. “Kill her, my dear.”

“Cindy please, Candice is my best friend. She is a bitch and a loudmouth but she doesn’t deserve this.” April cupped her hand over her mouth and cried. Cindy gave her a blank look and then looked at Candice on the floor with her head still in Gretchen one’s lap. Candice was exhausted and breathing slowly; her legs still bleeding out onto the floor.

Then, Devin began laughing to himself. Allison thought maybe he was losing his mind. It grew louder and maniacal as if he could have possibly lost his mind. But he had figured it out.

“Do you find something funny sir?” Gretchen one asked him.

“What’s so goddam funny?” Gretchen two scowled.

He roared laughter in the small room. “You fucking bitch!” Devin said to Gretchen one, the twisted leader of this odd girl cult. “You sound like fucking Glenda the good fucking witch from the wizard of fucking oz!” He roared out crazed laughter. Gretchen one did not respond. She only cocked her head sideways and stared for a long time at Devin.

“Kill him,” she said in her happy voice.

Gretchen two went for the machete in Cindy’s hand.

“NO! Wait!” Cindy screamed. “Please, not him. Please don’t hurt him.”

Gretchen one crossed her arms and tapped her fingers on her elbows as if taking into consideration what Cindy said.

“Very well then. Sir, are a very lucky man. Shall we proceed?”

Cindy repositioned her hand around the handle of the machete. It was rather heavy but she would be able to lift it. All three Gretchen’s joined hands as they prepared for their soon to be newest member to kill Candice.

The look on Cindy’s face was that of intense concentration. Her eyebrows slanted inward and her lips pursed tightly together. She was thinking of how she was going to end Candice’s life. She was looking at her the lying on the floor with her head in Gretchen one’s lap.

“Take your time dear,” Gretchen one told her.

Cindy put the tip of the machete up to Candice’s neck, and then caressed the flat side of it on her cheek. A tear fell from Candice’s eye onto to the big life ender. Cindy lifted the machete. She didn’t even notice or hear Slow Ride by Foghat playing on the radio. Something was brewing in her mind, a onetime shot to prove that she wasn’t a pushover. That dead set look of knowing and pure power on Cindy’s face scared the hell out of Allison. She’d only known Cindy to be this shy, quiet girl that kept to herself and never once showed a single outburst of violence ever. And now Allison was going to have to watch her kill Candice in front everyone. As if watching her legs’ being sliced up wasn’t bad enough. Her mind was in a whirlwind of terror. Jesus Christ this can’t be happening. You have to do something. Are you just going to sit here and let her do it? You can’t be a burnout forever Allison. You can’t be a loser and get stoned every day and work at the Freeze it for the rest of your life. Please wake up Cindy. Please, please, please!

“Cindy! Don’t!” Allison screamed with urgency in her voice at Cindy. “Please Cindy, don’t do it! These fucking freaks are controlling you. They’re no different from Candice or anyone else that pushes you around and tells you that you’re not worth a shit. But you are worth it Cindy.” Allison shook her head slowly back and forth and mouthed the word “Don’t” as her eyes filled up with tears.

Cindy gave her look of confusion and then sadness. She hated to see her friend like this because she really liked Allison. But it was too late. Her mind was made up and she knew what she had to do. No longer would anyone ever push her around and make her feel lower than dirt ever again. She leaned over bringing herself to Candice. Cindy whispered to her, “Just close your eyes and lay very still. This is all going to be over very soon.” Then, that look of sadness of her face turned to a sly, smirk of an evil smile as she looked at Allison and lifted the machete high.

“No Cindy, NO! NO! NO!” Allison frantically pleaded with each ‘no’ getting faster and then Cindy forcefully swung the machete in a fast sideways motion. It made a ‘shwoop’ sound. Devin felt its force as a gust of quick air hit his face. Candice screamed with wide eyes of terror as a wave of blood gushed onto her face and chest and then three dead Gretchen’s wearing masks of the same white color came falling down onto her. Their throats had been slit wide open by the one holding the machete and who was no longer going to be pushed around or told what to do by anyone, be it a slut or three freaks with a fetish for cutting. ‘Slooow Riiide’ came from the small radio in the storage room. But no one noticed because they were all in shock, especially Allison. She covered her mouth and said “Holy Shit!” in a half laughing kind of way. Candice waved her arms wildly and screamed as if warding off spiders from the three Gretchen’s falling onto her. “You’re ok Candice,” Cindy told her very calmly and then began pushing them off of her. Gretchen one was still twitching and grabbing at her throat. But it ceased and she was dead completely as were the other two Gretchen’s.

Cindy slowly stood up. She brushed herself off and moved her hair from her face. She nodded her head looking at the three dead girls in front of her. To Allison it looked as if she was very proud of her work. She was more scared of Cindy now than she was a few minutes earlier. Cindy walked to the door of the storage room and opened it. Everyone except for the dead Gretchen’s was staring at her in disbelief. “Are you ok Cindy?” Allison asked her gently. Cindy didn’t say anything for a moment. She held her head down looking towards the floor. Very meekly and sorrowfully she said, “I’m really sorry I hurt you Candice,” and then looked up at her. “But no one is going to hurt anyone anymore,” she said quietly. “I’m going to get a mop and start cleaning this mess up.”









The Rock and Roll Massacre of ‘76





They called it the devils nightmare or at least that’s what the coroners named it when they autopsied the over one hundred and fifty two victims of the tragic rock and roll massacre of ’76 in a five month span. My name is Doug and I was there that night at the Indiana Convention Center to see Kiss when this frightening event took place. I’ll never forget it, but then how can I when every day I have to see the long, red scar on my arm from some thirteen year old kid in Ace Frehley makeup running up to me like a rabid animal and then begin chewing on my arm. But I’ll get to that later. I found out later that a massive shipment of drugs from the U.K. had brought in this new and very dangerous type of pcp, aka devils nightmare, and had found its way into my home state of Indiana and then the town I live in called Bludenhale, and then unfortunately the Indiana Convention Center. It was a night I’ll never forget.

The house lights of the Indiana Convention Center slowly turned on after Cheap Trick finished their set. Soon after the crowd or rather the Kiss Army I should say, began to chant ‘We Want Kiss’. My best friend Tim and I both joined in. There was no way he and I were going to miss out on seeing Kiss. We did have to beg my older sister Kristen to drive us to Indy though. She was twenty four. Tim and I were both sixteen. She agreed, but to counteract the possible catastrophe of becoming babysitter for her kid brother and his friend, she asked her friend Carrie to come along. She had no problem saying yes because she thought Robin Zander of Cheap Trick was way hot. So here we are, the four of us piled into my sisters 1975 Datsun driving up I-65 to Indy on a late Friday afternoon to see Kiss. It was cool of my sister to drive us. Besides, I knew she really dug Kiss, though she would never admit it. The whole drive up Carrie wouldn’t shut up about Robin Zander and the different schemes she had planned to get backstage. It was rather amusing I thought. But I did hate having to lie to our mother just to get out of the house. “Oh Kristen, that’s so nice of you taking your little brother to see the Osmonds. There are drug dealers at those rock concerts I’m sure, like those devils in that makeup band.” But nonetheless I’m sure Kristen was happy to have Carrie with her so she wouldn’t be stuck with two adolescent boys who will probably see more boobs in one night than they ever will in their whole lives. As we drove along I-65 at least ten cars full of rowdy teenagers had already begun taking the devils nightmare, unbeknownst of its soon to be horrific effects. A plume of pot smoke filled almost the entire main floor of the Indiana Convention Center.

“Well, I gotta make a pit stop to the ladies. I’m a hot wet mess downstairs thanks to Mr. Zander.”

I scrunched my face in disgust at Carrie’s comment. For a second I actually thought maybe she had peed herself, and then it clicked. My sister of course cracked up laughing. When she was done her big sister face turned on. I could already feel her sarcasm before she even said anything.

“Ok boy’s, mommy has to pee. Will you little ones be ok by yourself?”

“Very funny,” I said.

“We’re sixteen, not ten,” Tim told her.

“Whatever dorko,” she said rolling her eyes, “And no looking at boobies while we’re gone.” She said it pretty loud to so the people around us could here. I could feel my face turning red and I smacked my hand over my face trying to hide my humiliation.

Somewhere there must have been a rule written that older sisters are obligated to embarrass, harass and terrorize their kid brothers. I think Kristen wrote it. But as they walked away I felt a slight panic and a sense of dread come over me. I guess the idea of her leaving us there alone like that kind of made me a little angry, but really just freaked out. She turned around and mouthed “stay put, don’t move” with a motherly point of her finger. It dawned on me then of how my sister could just up and leave us alone. Really? Who does that? It was 1976 though and I guess the thought of Tim and I getting kidnapped or mugged was just an afterthought. Hole in the Sky by Black Sabbath started playing on the pa.

So there Tim and I were, alone amongst all these pot smoking rock fans. I started feeling very hot all of a sudden, almost like I could pass out. I turned around and saw a sea of people behind me. The thought of getting crushed or trampled by all those people made my stomach hurt. This wasn’t like going to the Bludenhale flea market on a Saturday afternoon where there were a few hundred people or so. This was jam packed. Then from somewhere I heard a small roar come from the crowd. Someone yelled, “Show it all honey!” On the same night that one hundred and fifty two people died, my best friend and I saw our first pair of boobs. Real boobs, in the flesh right in front of us. The fear of being crushed faded away.

I thought of Kristen and Carrie making their way through throngs of people out in the concession area. I could just imagine all the long hair, blue jean jackets, seven inch heels, kids in Kiss makeup and all the leftover glitter types from the Bowie era of ’73, all walking around shoulder to shoulder. I could imagine the conversations to: Hey man did you get the stuff?….I was so wasted last weekend….I heard it’s a cows tongue….and then he said, ‘we’re gonna need a bigger boat….it’s called punk and it sucks….she murdered all three of them in that garage the crazy ass bitch! Kristen later told me that a fight had broken out in the ladies room which was non-ventilated. Imagine that, a bunch of hot and bothered, angry females on a Friday night at a Kiss concert in 1976.

Back on the main floor Tim and I waited patiently for Kiss to go on. I figured it would still be a while since there were roadies all over the stage.

Tim said, “Let’s go check out the t-shirts.”

“No way man, I’m not losing my spot,” I said to him.

Anyway, I had the image of voluptuous mounds of bouncing flesh to keep my mind occupied for the time being.

Sweet Lady by Queen started on the pa and a big beach ball appeared out of nowhere. Another roar came from the crowd and hundreds of hands went up in the air for a game of rock and roll volleyball. Everywhere I looked, it seemed like everyone had a joint in their mouth. I’ve heard of contact highs before but didn’t think it was possible; although I did feel a lot more relaxed and at ease. It was probably the boobs that Tim and I saw more than likely.

Just then I felt a hand touch the back of my head. I could feel fingers sliding smoothly through my hair. I turned and there were these two girls wearing cheap looking white fur coats and had way too much makeup on. They were wearing tall, black high heels. Not the Kiss kind but the woman kind. One girl had ultra-curly blonde hair and the other straight black hair. She reminded me of Cher.

The blonde whose cherry red lips were smacking away on a piece of gum, looked at me and said, “You want a handjob honey?”

I must have looked like a goosed owl because my sixteen year old eyes blew up in surprise. Tim and I just looked at each other and shrugged. I noticed some people looking over at us to.

“I can sneak you into the ladies restroom and I can do it right there in one of the stalls.” Smack smack smack her gum went.

“What?” I said stupidly. Then the people staring at this sexual offering started laughing probably because I was just some kid.

She continued with, “How would you like that, smelling all those females while I rub all over you.” Her puffy red lips curved upward into a smile. “Or I could do it right here in front of everyone.”

I was beginning to feel hot again. There were so many people around us all clustered together like sardines. I felt embarrassed but have to admit the things she was telling me did sound somewhat appealing however gross or weird they were. I would never go through with it though. Anyway I politely told her, “No thanks,” and that got some major laughs from the people watching. I didn’t realize I told her ‘no thanks’ the way you would tell your waitress at the waffle house ‘no thanks’ when she asks you if you want a refill.

Then someone said, “Leave the kid alone you skanks.”

The blonde yelled back, “Whatever fuckface!”

Right then a couple older guys in jean jackets about my sisters age came up to me and Tim and the handjob honeys in the fur coats.

He said, “Take a hike ladies. These boys aren’t interested in catching the crabs.

She responded, “Excuse me but who the fuck are you?”

The guy looked at me and winked.

“I’m there uncle and I promised their mom I would get them home in one piece.”

The blonde laughed and said, “Honey I was just trying to have a little fun that’s all.”

Her and her gal bailed, probably onto their next victim. As she walked away she gave me a jerking off gesture with her hand and said, “I’ll be around if you change your mind.” Smack smack smack.

“You fellas all right?” Someone asked but I didn’t know who. Then a woman standing in front of us with her boyfriend’s arms around her turned to us and said, “They were ho’s man.”

I suddenly felt safe and protected by these strangers as if they were watching out for us. I thought of how wrong my mother was about her assumptions of the kind of people that go to these events. But now I just wanted to thank that guy that helped us out.

“Wow, thanks man,” I told him.

“No prob. We saw them going in for the kill. Those kind are always at these big shows. Chances are they don’t even own a record player or even know one Kiss song. My name is Phil and this is Greg.”

They extended their hands and we shook them.

“You guys want a cigarette?” He asked.

“That’s ok. I don’t smoke,” I told him.

“That’s cool. You want us to hang out until your dates get back?”

“What?” I said.

“Yeah, those girls you are with. They are your girlfriend’s right?”

“Hell no! That’s my sister and her friend.”

Now I know you don’t have to be a genius to know why two twenty four year old guys would ask two sixteen year old kids if ‘those girls you are with’ are your girlfriends while you’re at a concert. I may have been sixteen but I wasn’t stupid. Of course these guys have been checking out my sister and her Robin Zander loving friend and were interested. And speak of the devil.

“I thought I said no talking to strangers,” Kristen said from behind me.

Despite her sarcasm, I was happy to see her. I would be even happier to see her alive by the end of the night.


Ok, so big deal. These guys were checking out my sister when Cheap Trick was playing and when I got into my scuffle with the handjob honeys, it was their grand opportunity to make their move. So then my sister proceeded to do all the things that girls do when they like a guy. Such as play with her hair, swing her hair, laugh in that higher than usual voice, playfully slap the guys shoulder at one of their stupid jokes. And Tim and I had to witness it all. I thought she looked dumb, like she was dancing or something. Plus she kept sticking her tongue out at me in between her goofy, flirting dance with Phil. Maybe she did know that he was checking her out during Cheap Trick. But what she didn’t know as well as the rest of us was that during Cheap Trick, twenty two more people ingested the deadly pcp devils nightmare and would soon be ripping this arena apart, even more than Kiss.

“So let me get this straight. Your mom thinks you are at a freaking Osmonds concert right now?” Phil laughed. “She has to know that the Osmonds don’t play this late.”

Kristen had her arms crossed and gave me a smirk, “Well I told her that I would take them out for pizza afterwards and that we might be a little late.”

“And you drove them here after covering for them about the Osmonds?” Phil asked.

“Yep” Kristen said, now smiling at me.

Phil put his arm around me and said, “You sir have and awesome big sister.”

I couldn’t help but smile bashfully because it was pretty cool that she agreed to drive us up here and then chaperone us all night.

“Yeah well he can be a little shit sometimes but he is my kid brother, and I love’em,” Kristen smiled.

Just then a dj from one the local radio stations walked on stage. He had a big brown mustache and wore a hat with the stations logo on it. Next to him was a very attractive woman in the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen. Even shorter than the ones that psycho was wearing when she murdered her best friend in the town I live in two years ago. The woman was holding a sign but I couldn’t make out what it said. The dj spoke into the mic.

“Sorry folks but Kiss had to cancel tonight, so instead we’ll be seeing Crosby, Stills and Nash.”

What a lame brain I thought. He was greeted with empty and full beer cups and many middle fingers.

He laughed and said, “Settle down now, just kidding folks. Kiss is here tonight and they’re going to tear the roof off this place!”

A hearty roar came from the crowd and a thousand hands went up in the air.

“But first we want to let you know about the Blue Oyster Cult ticket giveaway we have next…..” He trailed off about BOC (who I heard put on an awesome laser light show) and made some more lame jokes.

“Hey little brother, will you be ok by yourself? I think we’re going up in the bleachers,” Kristen said.

“Yeah sure, I guess,” I told her. But my guess was she didn’t want to be around a bunch of rowdy kids when Kiss hit the stage.

“I mean we can stay down here if you want us to,” she said.

“No that’s ok.” I knew she wanted to be with Phil.

“You can see the seats right up there. We’re not that far.” Kristen pointed to the seats which really were not that far away.

I nodded and she said with a smile, “You’ll be all right. You’re almost eighteen.”

And I said, “Yeah in like two years.”

She frowned a bit and said, “Are you sure it’s ok?”

“Yes, jeez, we’ll be fine.”

“Ok thanks!” She said quickly just as I finished my sentence. She gave me a peck on the cheek. I felt my face turn hot. It must have been blood red with embarrassment. I watched Kristen and Phil along with Carrie and that other guy, (oh yeah Greg) make their way through the crowd and up to the bleachers. Carrie was probably thinking that Greg wasn’t Robin Zander but he’ll do for tonight. Kristen turned around and did another one of those sharp points at me mouthing, ‘stay put, don’t move’, and pointing at the bleachers ‘right up there’. I just threw my arms up and said, “Ok, ok, jeez!”

The dj left the stage and the crowd was ready to see Kiss. The anticipation and excitement in the crowd was electrifying. The stage began filling up with fog as Bad Motor Scooter by Montrose played on the pa. And then the lights went out.

Boob, boobs and more boobs! I’ve never seen so many damn boobs. Boobs in front of us, boobs to the left and right, and even better we had Kiss on stage. Kiss and boobs, Kiss and boobs! Holy halleluiah it was awesome. Stage lights colored red, blue, green and yellow shined on the crowd as members of the Kiss Army passed joints around to each other, and my sixteen year old hormones bathed in the glory of rock and roll hedonism of blood, fire, explosions, volume and boobs, boobs, boobs!

Paul Stanley yelled into the mic, “It looks like we’re gonna have a rock and roll party Indiana style tonight! Ahhyyeeah!”

The crowd went crazy and Kiss broke into Hotter than Hell. I noticed about halfway through the song that some sort of fight or scuffle had broken out a few feet in front of me and Tim. Then I saw two security guys in yellow jackets rush through the crowd. When the crowd parted to make way for security, we all kind of gasped and shrieked at what we saw. It wasn’t a fight. It was two seventeen year old girls locked together on the floor biting one another’s faces off. The rock and roll massacre of ’76 had begun.

A security guy grabbed one girl by her shirt and pulled her up hard. She was acting crazy, kicking her arms and legs out like she was rabid. Everyone made a ‘ahhh’ sound and some covered their eyes at what they saw. In her mouth was the other girl’s nose. She began shaking it violently back and forth like a diseased animal. “What the fuck!” I yelled. Tim covered his mouth as if to puke. He didn’t though. That girl’s eyes were full of hate as she kept clawing at the crowd around her. She finally freed herself from the security guards hold on her. She ran around in circles really fast but then came to a sudden stop. No one dared tried to subdue her. Not even the security guard whose forehead was now layered with sweat. The girl held her head down with her hair covering her eyes. But after a few seconds she raised her head to the arena ceiling and began screaming like mad. She raked her fingernails across her chest slicing through her Kiss t-shirt until she reached skin. She kept violently and rapidly scratching at herself, shredding her skin and screaming until her chest was a scratched up nightmare of blood, skin and cotton.

I looked up into the bleachers and saw Kristen. She was holding her hands up giving me this ‘what’s going on’ gesture. I waved my hands wildly at her motioning for her to come down. But she gave me a ‘whooo’ No Kristen, I’m not rocking out. Something is wrong, very wrong. I cupped my hands to my mouth and yelled at her. It was no use. She shrugged and returned her attention to the blistering rock show on stage. For Kristen and everyone else sitting in the bleachers it looked like your standard rock concert fight going on, but what they didn’t know was that the same thing was happening three rows behind them. I yelled again at Kristen but just then I saw an arm come flying out from the bleachers a little higher up from where she was. It landed right in the row in front of her. She covered her mouth in horror and then she and Phil turned around and saw this guy leap frogging really fast over the seats right at them. Kristen put her arms around Phil and they just barely got out of the way as the maniac scraped past them. He jumped down onto the main floor and was growling at everyone. He took off in the darkness of the arena, probably in search of another arm to snack on.

Pretty soon there were pockets of pcp induced slayings and violence all around the arena and Kiss played on, unaware of what was going on in the audience. That was until of course some pcp jacked blonde headed girl ran on stage, foaming at the mouth and running straight towards Paul Stanley. The stage became a sea of security as they tackled the girl. Kiss was quickly informed of what was happening. They were quickly ushered off stage. Our heroes were unharmed.

As things became more and more crazy and out of hand I kept wondering why no one had turned on the house lights yet. I found out later that the security guard in charge of watching the house lights had been attacked by three fifteen year old kids under the possession of the deadly devils nightmare pcp. They had ripped his stomach wide open and then feasted on his innards.

I yelled to Tim, “What the hell is happening?”

“I don’t know man but I’m shittin’ bricks!” He said.

“We gotta get to Kristen, c’mon!”

We made our way towards the bleachers. People were running all around the arena trying to get out. Everyone was frantic. That fear I had of getting trampled or crushed came back with a vengeance. I knew I had to get to Kristen and fast. I could see her and Phil running down the steps from up in the bleachers. Carrie and Greg were behind them.

“Kristen!” I yelled as loud as I could through the manic crowd. People were starting to panic. They were running into each other and falling down and screaming and crying. And these were just normal people; the ones without the devils nightmare attacking their brains.

Tim and I finally made it to Kristen and Phil. She was trembling with a terrible look of horror in her eyes. I hated seeing that because she was usually never scared of anything and was always smiling or laughing.

“What the hell is going on?” She asked me in scared, shaky voice.

I said, “I don’t know. It’s like everyone has gone crazy or something.”

“We need to get the hell out of here,” Phil said.

And then we heard someone screaming from behind us. It was Carrie. She was being attacked by some guy in a leather jacket with long black hair. He was on her back and was gnawing at her head. Both Phil and Greg ran to her and started beating the guy, pulling his hair until he finally was off of her back. He ran off on all fours like a twisted animal hellbent on blood. Carrie had a few bite marks on her head but she was ok; just a crying, hysterical mess.

People were running past me and I couldn’t tell if they were sane or not. Then a man was on the stage. He spoke into the mic trying to calm everyone down. It was useless. It was mayhem. Music started to play over the pa and I looked over at the sound console and rabid, pcp fiends were jumping all over it and destroying it. They were ripping apart one of the sound engineers. They had ripped his head off. A pcp freak had their face buried in the man’s open neck. They must have hit the intermission music by accident because Space Truckin’ by Deep Purple began playing.

“Ok listen up,” Phil said to everyone. “I want everyone to grab hands. Kristen and I are going to be in front. Doug, you and you’re buddy stay in the middle and Carrie and Greg will be in the back.”

“What are we going to do?” I yelled.

“We’re going to make a train and bust right out of here.” He said it with complete confidence.

People were still running around and screaming as Phil laid out the plan. He was very calm.

“See that exit over there.” He waved his hand in that direction. “That’s where we’re headed. C’mon, everybody hold tight because we’re gonna walk really fast.”

Kristen gripped my hand and gave me a worried look. Her hand felt clammy. I’ve never seen my sister that scared before. I was always the chickenshit about everything and she was always looking out for me. Now I felt like it was my turn. I just prayed we would get out alive.

So do you remember that little kid, the one in the Ace Frehley costume that came hurdling at me with my arm in his sight? Well, somehow this kid had spotted me from where he was all the way up in the bleachers. Why he chose me I’ll never know. And the creepy thing was is that he was staring at me from up in the bleachers with deadly intent. He started jumping over the seats getting closer. He was on a mission and I was his target. We were all holding hands tight with the exit sign getting closer. I saw the kid jump down onto the main floor. He was walking fast like a mall walker right at me.

“Hey Phil,” I said with my eyes on the rabid kid.

“Just keep walking kid,” Phil said without looking at me, oblivious to the killer Ace Frehley on my heels.

“Uh, Kristen,” I said nervously. We were walking so fast.

“We can’t stop Doug,” she said.

“Uh, uh guys.” I pleaded as I was drug along by our fast moving human train. The kid was getting really close by now.

“Shit, shit!” I yelled.

Then the little fucker broke out into a full blown fucking gallop on all fours straight at me. His beady little eyes full of rage and his brain broken by pcp.

“Oh shit, oh shit. Phil. Oh shit!” I screamed.

“Almost there kid,” He reassured me.

“Shitshitshitshit, GUYS!” I screamed but it was too late. The kid pounced on me and we both hit the arena floor. He had me on my back and he was spitting and growling like a dog, but he wasn’t a dog, he was this little kid. He clawed at my face. I put my arms up to defend myself but he scratched my left arm, thus leaving a nasty red scar on it. I still have it today but now it’s only a faded pink line. I was lucky to still have my arm. It could have been a lot worse. Both Phil and Kristen somehow wrestled the kid off of me. Phil grabbed him by his homemade Ace Frehley costume and threw him as hard as he could. The kid landed hard on his side but it was like nothing happened because he got right up and galloped away on all fours.

“Are you all right kid?” Phil asked as he helped me up off the floor.

“Yeah, I think so. It’s just my arm. I’ll live. Let’s get out of here.”

“Good idea. Ok everyone. Grab hands, we’re almost outta here,” Phil said.

Just as we started to walk quickly out of the arena in hell, I saw a 6’4 giant of a man slumbering through the frenzied crowd. He was decked out in a Gene Simmons costume, full makeup and all. His main accessory: a human arm which he was taking bites out of like a big turkey wing. It was madness. When we got a little closer to the exit I felt tremendous relief, but I was seeing some rather insane shit on the way out; things a sixteen year old kid or anyone else shouldn’t see. People were bashing their heads onto the floor over and over like it was nothing. Their faces were covered in bruises and blood but they just kept doing it. People were jumping off the edge of the bleacher seats, landing on the concrete floor on their heads and getting right back up and doing it again. Two guys were on all fours screaming and spitting at each other. One girl was pulling huge chunks of her hair out, not even screaming or feeling any pain. She had a bald spot on the side of her head. I didn’t understand what was going on. It was like a schizophrenic psycho house of rabid rock and roll zombies, except these weren’t zombies like the ones you see in the movies where they walk slowly. These animals were fast and vicious and deadly, and above all, bloodthirsty.

To get to the exit we had to go through the concession area. It was jam packed full of scared and panicking people. I was halfway in the concession area and halfway still inside the arena. I turned around and the last thing I saw from inside that hellish pit was a girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, walking around in circles hitting her head hard with her fist. “Don’t look back Doug, we’re almost out of here,” Kristen said to me but I couldn’t stop staring at the girl. I don’t know why.

She suddenly stopped her frantic belting of her head. She saw me looking at her. She gazed at me with rabid, insane eyes and for a second I thought she was going to charge at me like that little fucker did. But she just stood still and lowered her head. Her hair covered her face. She brought her hands up to her hair smothered face. They were balled up in fists and then they opened up and her fingers stuck straight out. She slowly started scratching at her face and then faster and faster until her face was a bloody mess. She had scratched her face so hard that her left eyeball ball had come out of its socket. I tried to convince myself that she really didn’t scratch her own eyeball out but she did. She resumed her head thrashing and manic circling. Deep Purple was still playing over the pa, ‘C’mon, c’mon, let’s go space truckin’.

We finally reached the exit. Thank god. I could feel the air coming in from outside. Apparently people had busted through the exit door trying to get out. We staggered out into the parking lot. At the same time three black vans pulled up to the building. They were the swat team. One of them spoke into a hand held loudspeaker telling everyone to return to their vehicles and to leave immediately.

A news van was also sitting there in the parking lot. News travels freaking quick I guess. A news anchor woman with a mic in her hand spotted a girl stumbling around in the parking lot. She looked dazed. The anchor went to her and began asking her some questions about what was going on inside. The girl was hysterical and crying.

“Is everyone all right?” Phil asked.

We all nodded without saying anything. We were all in shock. I was just glad to be outside. Aside from some minor cuts we were ok physically. But mentally and emotionally we were not. We all kind of just stared at one another for a moment with terrified looks on our faces. We knew we had just witnessed and had been a part of some strange event that would take us years to get over.

“I think we’re parked over here,” Kristen said quietly.

We all started walking that way. I’m surprised Kristen could remember where we even parked. We were walking slowly and then Kristen stopped and it all hit her. She started crying, “What was all that?” She sounded terrified as tears rolled down her face.

We got to the Datsun and we’re all standing around looking dazed and horrified and then we heard a blast of gunfire from inside the Indiana Convention Center. Kristen jumped from the abrasive gun shots. She fell into Phil’s chest covering her ears as she screamed and then broke into another cry. The swat team that we saw jumping out of those black vans had begun taking out anyone that was relentlessly clawing at their face or had a limb hanging out of its mouth. Seventy five hundred people walked inside the Indiana Convention Center that night. One hundred and fifty two of them never made it out. They either died of a gunshot wound or death by one the devils nightmare crazies.

Phil embraced Kristen. It was strange seeing some guy we just met with his arms around my sister, comforting her. But I was glad he was there for her. Maybe he wasn’t just looking for a piece of ass that night. As he held Kristen he looked at me with hard and weary eyes. I could tell he was a wreck to.

Kristen let me drive home that night. That and seeing my first pair of boobs were the only two good things to happen that night. Well, make that three things. We got out of there alive.

Kristen and I never talked much about that night afterwards. I guess we turned out ok. We never turned to drugs or alcohol or had to see a shrink. I guess we dealt with it in our own ways.

I was sixteen when the rock and roll massacre of ’76 happened. Today I’m forty six and I am the head of the narcotics division for the Indiana state police. I have two sons, both in their twenties. I’m a grandpa too which is hard to believe. My sister Kristen married Phil in 1978 and they’re still together. They have three girls.

I haven’t been to a concert since that horrible night in 1976. But I guess that will change tonight since I will be taking my grandkids to their first concert. I’m ok with it to, because it’s not every day that the Osmonds come to town.

































In unison





Her pretty face burned red with embarrassment because she thought she had peed on her boyfriend as she dug her fingernails into his shoulders, pumping herself on top of him making herself feel good under the stars around midnight on the edge of Dyer’s Forest, but what she really had done was the thing some females do when they get overly excited down below in between their thighs. A thick lock of her blonde hair rested over her shoulder as she fanned her face and let out a breath of exhaustion still feeling that odd mix of arousal and embarrassment. She started again and pumped herself almost into a fit of sexual possession until she released a tremendous arc of wetness that sparkled like diamonds against the star cast sky. She let out a cry indicating her poor, female hormones were out of whack and when she screamed high and loud into the night air from her intense moment of pleasure the girl being chopped to pieces on the other side of Dyer’s Forest screamed along with her; though Miss pretty face fucked up hormones never heard a thing.
















Bloodbound: The diary of Amy Smith





May 4th 1986-

It is with a led lock and a key of thorns that I shall use to protect these writings which have so dreadfully haunted my days and nights as of late. I’m only fourteen and have been experiencing some things lately that I don’t understand. I have these images in my mind. They feel as if they’re right in front of me. They are horrible and terribly frightening. I haven’t told anyone about these episodes, not even my grandparents. I know they would lock me up if I did. Recently I decided to write down some of these terrible images plaguing by mind in this diary. I hope it will help. I have no idea where to begin with all of this. I guess it all started a couple of years ago. I wish I could go back in time and change things. I would have never gone into Sam’s Hardware store if I had known what was going to happen. I despise Red Brown for what he did. But a part of me can’t really blame him. It was all that girls fault anyway. I’m not sure if I can even write her name without feeling a sense of hate and yet dread at the same time. Angel. There I wrote it. Why did you kill my mom? And why can’t you stay out of my dreams. That day at Sam’s still shines bright in my memory even after two years. I remember grandma telling me I could get my ear’s pierced that day. I was so excited. I couldn’t wait. It never happened though and I suppose I’ll never get my ears pierced. It hasn’t really been on my list of things to do. It seems lately that Angel has taken up a lot of my time in my mind. She’s all I think about. But of course I think of my mom to and what it would’ve have been like to grow up around her. I do love my grandparents though and I guess Susan is kinda like my mom, but not really. They are really good to me and take care of me like good parent’s do I guess, but I know it’s not the same. I shouldn’t complain. It does hurt me though when my grandma accidently calls me Heather. I know she was her daughter and she misses her very much and wants her back but I don’t know if grandma knows how that makes me feel when she does that. I know she doesn’t do it on purpose, but still. I do look a lot like my mom I guess. She was beautiful. These nightmares that I’ve been having lately and these daydreams, I wonder if my mom had it to or if my real dad did. I never knew him. I don’t even remember one thing about him. I guess he left my mom when I was two. I just want this all to go away. No more Angel standing at my bedside in the middle of the night holding that bloody hatchet and no more hearing her scream I bathed in her blood like Red Brown told me that she did. I remember feeling so awful for throwing up on the floor that night after the incident at Sam’s. My grandma yelled at me and I felt so bad. She’s never yelled at me like that. But then she started to cry and then I cried with her. And I also remember that first nightmare later that night after everyone went to bed. It would be the first of many. I remember waking up screaming and the bed sheets were covered in my sweat and I was shaking and yelling out for my grandma. I can still hear her feet running across the wooden floor of the hallway and her coming through the door in her silk white night gown which I thought was a ghost, and as her footsteps got closer to my door I was almost certain that it would be Angel Larson all covered in my mother’s blood, busting through my door and her face rushing towards me screaming I bathed in her blood and then chop me to pieces with that hatchet and then drink all my blood from my body just like she did to my mom.


July 10th 1986-

I slept dreadfully last night. I can’t even call it sleep; had another nightmare. I could feel Red Brown breathing on me and that horrible screaming in the background. I tried to wake myself up but it was impossible. I was outside, I think in our cornfield this time. It was so hot. And then she was there right in front of me just as always swinging her hatchet with that smile on her face. She said something to me but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. I’m so tired now, but I have to get ready for school.


August 8th 1986- Had a super cute sub today in history class, he winked at me a couple times. It took my mind off of the dream I had last night at least. They seem to be getting worse.


October 19th 1986-

Celebrated granddads birthday today, had a goodtime. I think I ate too much of grandmas sugar cream pie though. I can see the sun going down from my bedroom window. My stomach is sinking with dread at falling asleep. She’ll be there again tonight as always right at the foot of my bed.


January 4th 1987-

So it’s a new year. I hope I can find some peace within my dreams. I doubt I will though. It seems the more I have these horrible dreams the more I hate her. She killed my mom and now she is haunting me in my sleep.




March 18th 1987-

We had a practice tornado drill today at school. As we were making our way down the hall to the shelter area I saw Angel at the end of the hall. She was just standing there staring at me. I know no one else saw her. She was covered in blood and smiling at me just as she does in my dreams. I pray that this was only a one time event; just my imagination from being so tired every day from no sleep.


April 10th 1987-

I got in a fight today at school which has never happened. This girl would not keep her mouth shut and kept getting in my face. I don’t know what she has against me, I just wanted to get my stuff out of my locker and get to my next class. She just kept pushing me and it really set me off. I pulled her by her hair down to the floor and I kicked her in her stomach over and over again. I’ve never lost my temper like that. It scared me. I know the school called my house today. I heard grandma talking on the phone downstairs. She never said anything to me about it even at dinner or when we were alone in the house after granddad went outside to work in the barn. Why is she not yelling at me? She’s walking around as if nothing ever happened.


April 12th 1987-

I just woke up. It’s 4:30 a.m. This was the worst nightmare yet. I’m so cold; I’m shivering and sweating at the same time. I feel like I could throw up. Angel was here again as always but in this dreadful dream I was sitting up in my bed, looking out the window into our cornfield. I saw something in the distance hanging in the sky like it was floating or something. It was getting closer and I realized it was her. I tried to move but I was frozen to my bed. A frightening chill went through me as she got closer to my window. Her black hair flew all around her as in slow motion. When she got up to my window she put her hands on the glass and raked her fingernails down the glass. They made an awful screeching sound and then she began screaming at the top of her lungs right outside my window. And then I finally heard with my own ears what she has been trying to say to me in past dreams, and that was ‘I bathed in her blood’. In my dream I suddenly remembered that night in my room when I asked grandma who Angel Larson was and at Sam’s store when I asked if she really sucked all my mommy’s blood gone. Then out of nowhere Angel was at the foot of my bed in the dark laughing crazily with blood all over her. She jumped onto my bed and came at me, her bloody face rushing towards me in the dark. Her face was right in front of me as she screamed ‘I bathed in her blood’. And then I woke up. I feel so sick right now. My mind is racing with all these thoughts. How could she do that to my mom? Why am I having such terrible nightmares? Why do I feel this strange mix of fear and overwhelming curiosity about her? I am so glad tomorrow is Saturday.




May 16th 1987-

I had sex for the first time tonight. I can’t say that it was great either. The guy I’ve been dating, he’s a senior and he’s wanted to be with me for a while. I guess I finally caved. He was gentle but it still hurt and it didn’t feel good, especially with the rubber he was wearing. It really was a catastrophe because I started bleeding. It wasn’t my period either. I felt so embarrassed because he stopped, he thought he hurt me. I got blood on his bed sheets, plus I was paranoid the whole time about his parents coming home. When I got home I ran upstairs and took a shower, I can still smell him on me. It hurts so bad down there. I wish I could talk to grandma about this, I don’t think she could handle it though. I just wish I had someone to talk to. I feel so filthy and embarrassed yet still very horny. It’s confusing.


June 17th 1987-

I’ve been up all night staring at the ceiling. It’s been thirteen years since my mother died all those years ago. The dreams haven’t stopped. I don’t think they ever will.


April 10th 1988-

I turned sixteen today and holy crap I got a car! Woopeee! No more sitting around being bored, I can just go! I totally shit my pants when granddad told me to take a look out by our barn. There it was sitting right by the tree. It’s a blue chevy; cavalier I think? Doesn’t matter to me, it has wheels! I think I’m more excited now than when they got me a puppy when I was seven. I love janey though. She’s a good dog. It’s been a great birthday and as always I ate to much sugar cream pie.



June 3rd 1988-

I’ve had my car for two months now. I love it! I know grandma is secretly going crazy worrying about me driving. There is something though that’s been on my mind ever since I got it. Today after school I thought about taking a drive out to Devils Bluff. I’m not sure if I should go there or not.




August 17th 1988-

Grandma brought home some more clothes today for me. She’s been doing it for years. And I’m totally cool with it. She always tells me that if she’s out and about she’ll pick up something that I might like. Somehow she has good taste because I love everything she buys me. I am so spoiled.


October 12th 1988-

Oh my god. I can’t stop shaking. I can barely write. It’s three in the morning and I just had the worst nightmare yet. There was so much blood. Stop crying Amy just calm down. I wanna yell for grandma but I’m not twelve and thirteen anymore and……………I just threw up, but I don’t think it’s because of nerves. It’s because that dream was so sickening and scary. A scary bloody place where I found your mommy, jesus christ Red, get out of my head please! ……………I’ve been up for a half hour now and have school in the morning. I don’t think I’ll be going back to sleep. I can’t stop staring out the window. She’s out there right now staring back at me.


November 4th 1988-

I was in the bathroom peeing and I could hear my grandparents having sex downstairs through the vent. I couldn’t stop laughing at first. But then something came over me. I feel sick writing this but I guess this is what a diary is for right? I just finished my period yesterday and I’ve been so goddam horny since. The more that I heard coming from the vent……….This is so hard to write about. I didn’t flush the toilet at first because I didn’t want them to hear me. I never heard Susan like that. I feel so disgusted with myself doing what I did. But I couldn’t help it. That’s all it was anyway, it was just sex sounds. It’s no different from hearing a dirty movie playing in the other room and getting turned on by it. I still feel so ashamed for feeling aroused and then touching myself. I could smell my pee. I thought it smelled really good. It was turning me on and those sounds too, which I hate to admit. I’ve never played with myself while on the toilet. I think I like it though.


Febuary 13th 1989-

I hate winter!


March 21st 1989-

It’s finally spring, yessss! But there’s still 6 inches of snow on the ground. Fuck you Indiana!


April 10th 1989-

I’m seventeen today, another year another birthday. No big gifts this year. That’s ok. Grandma got me this cool grey skirt. I’m surprised she got it for me because it’s kinda short. I like it a lot. It shows off my legs which I have to say are pretty sexy. Mom had nice legs to. You’re so pretty just like your mommy. And there’s another voice.


April 14th 1989-

We had career day at school today. Business’s from all around were in the gymnasium; colleges too. They were all set up with someone to talk to about life after high school. Thirty different opportunities and I couldn’t find one that interested me.


May 8th 1989-

I went to the library today to look at some old newspaper articles on the Bludenhale Massacre. The more I dream about Angel, the more I feel the need to know more about her it seems, and I don’t know why.


June 6th 1989-

Today is the last day of school! Can’t wait to bolt out of this hell hole. It’s been a rough year. I basically haven’t slept all year because of the nightmares. I’m actually getting used to them. But somehow I made it and now it’s on to my senior year. Megan wants me to go with her to a party tonight. She said she would pick me up. I like Megan but I’m afraid of becoming too close. Did you ever have a best friend Amy?





June 7th 1989-

I got blitzed last night. Thank god Megan drove. There was no way I could. Drank a half bottle of wine and had three shots of Jim Beam. I’ve never been drunk before. My head is throbbing right now and I could throw up. But I did sleep without dreams last night.



August 18th 1989-

Megan and I were at Cherrybombs tonight. I’ve never been in there. I’ve never had a reason to. She has this grand idea of becoming a dancer. She says they make a ton of money and she’s already eighteen. When the owner was done talking to Megan, he asked me if I wanted to take a shot at dancing. I told him I was only seventeen and he told me to come see him when I turned eighteen. He was really nice but kinda creepy a little. I think his name was Jack. After we left I dropped Megan off at her house. I finally built up enough nerve and drove out to Devils Bluff. I shouldn’t have. I was scared to death, especially with all that corn around me and it was dark to. I went past the dirt path that leads to that garage. I felt angry all of a sudden. Angry at that bitch who won’t stay out of my dreams and who killed my mom. I’ve never felt so much hatred before. It kind of scared me, more than being out there in the dark and the idea of Angel jumping out of the corn with her hatchet.


November 4th 1989-

It’s 3:20 in the morning. Had another nightmare. This one was pretty bad. I dreamt I was being strangled to death. She was there at the foot of my bed and covered in blood. Then as I lay flat on the bed in my dream, her black hair began wrapping itself around me, confining me to my bed. I could feel it getting tighter and tighter. I could feel my guts bursting inside of me. It was horrible. She raised her hatchet as if to chop me to pieces and then I woke up. I think I’m going crazy. I’ve been having these nightmares since I was twelve. And sometimes I think I see her when I’m awake. I wish I had some of that Jim Beam to help me sleep.


February 17th 1990-

I was walking down the hall today, bringing my clean laundry to my room and as I walked past my mom’s room I swore I heard music playing. It sounded really familiar. I never go in there. Grandma says I’m not allowed to.



March 11th 1990-

I’ve been really horny lately. I don’t know what it is. I think about sex all the time, and touching myself to. I’ve been with four guys in two years. That’s not so bad I guess. I’ve gotten a lot better at sex and I actually like it a lot now. Sometimes I think I like it too much. I feel guilty when I think of what it would be like to be with a girl.


April 10th 1990-

Hello eighteen! I’m officially an adult today. I don’t feel any older. I can finally buy cigarettes legally now. Ok, I have to confess that I took up smoking three days after my seventeenth birthday. We’re having another career day a school soon. I haven’t a clue of what I want to do after high school. I keep thinking of that club Megan and I were at and how that guy told me to call him when I turn eighteen. My grandparents would kill me If I did something like that. I know I don’t want to work in some factory or a warehouse. Dancing sounds fun.


May 20th 1990-

Something very terrifying happened to me today at school. A wide awake nightmare is what I call it. I’ve been having them a lot lately. I’m so scared. I really feel like I’m going crazy. It was in history class. The fucking teacher who I hate started in on local history of Bludenhale. He started talking about the massacre and everyone kept staring at me and looking over at me. I felt so uncomfortable. I felt like he was doing it on purpose to try to get me to talk about it or some bullshit. Finally he went on to something else thank god and it was then when I saw Angel from the corner of my eye. Everything seemed to slow down. I saw her open the door to the classroom. She was covered in blood as usual. She was pulling something behind her. I could hear my heart beating slowly in my chest. And then I saw what was in her hand. It was my mother’s head and she was dragging her body across the classroom floor leaving a wide trail of her blood behind her. I froze in horror in my seat. I looked on in terror at the sickening vision in front of me. She pointed at me. Drops of blood fell from her finger to the floor. Then she stopped just a few feet in front of my desk. She put her hands on her hips and started playing with her hair. Then she lifted my mother up to her mouth and she opened her mouth wide and…………….I just threw up in the bathroom. It seems as though my nighmares are coming alive in my mind. I don’t what is real and what isn’t. I’m so frightened. And no one knows about this dark and scary world I’ve been living in since I was twelve years old. I’ve never told anyone about the nightmares. It is so dark in this world of mine.




June 17th 1990-

I went to Cherrybombs today. I guess the owner isn’t as creepy as I thought. He was actually very nice. Almost fatherly like, I know that sounds weird but I felt really comfortable around him. He talked to me about working there as a dancer. He told me he thinks I would really be good at it. He showed me around the place and where the girls change. When he told me about the money possibilities it really got my attention. He told me to think about it but there was no thinking it over for me. I knew I was in the right place and that I wanted to do it, even when he asked me a year before that time with Megan. I don’t what it was but I feel so at ease and at home in there. Plus he gave me a free shot of Jim Beam, told me it was on the house. I smiled at him and asked him when I could start. He looked really happy when I asked. I came home around ten this evening. Grandma was on the couch crying, holding a box of tissues and a photo album on her lap. She’s done this as long as I can remember every June 17th. I feel so sad for her sometimes. I want to go to her and hug her sometimes but I’m not sure if I should or not. I hope I sleep well tonight. I got a bottle of Jim Beam I bought from rite aid today. The cashier was cool about it and didn’t give me any problems about buying it.



July 1st 1990-

It’s three fifteen in the morning and I just got home from my first night at Cherrybombs. I made one hundred and seventy five bucks. I was so nervous when I first got there. Some of the other girls gave me shitty looks like they were jealous or something. I just stayed to myself. I did like Lauren though. She is a little older than some of the other girls. She hung out with me for a while and talked to me about the business. Jack let me go on kind of early, so it wasn’t real packed. My stomach was in knots when I first got up there. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing it and I kept thinking of how upset grandma would be with me. I just blocked it all out and started moving. I don’t even remember the song I danced to. I just started dancing. Then something happened on the inside of me. I felt strangely at peace and so comfortable up there. It just felt right. Jack let me go up a little later and that’s when the money came flying at me.



September 2nd 1990-

I haven’t said anything yet to my grandparents about my new ‘job’. I’m going to try to keep it quiet for as long as I can. I really love it but I don’t want to disappoint grandma.


October 13th 1990-

I masturbated three times today, twice before noon and once on the toilet. The guy I’m seeing now, we fuck all the time, of course at his apartment. I can’t seem to get enough.




November 4th 1990-

Sometimes the whiskey helps with the dreams, sometimes it doesn’t. I drink about two or three shots before I go to bed. I can’t have a hangover everyday so I try not to get blitzed every night. But the dreams are getting scarier and bloodier, and the daytime horrors are still happening.


January 12th 1991-

I smoked a joint for the first time tonight after work. One of the girls let me take a hit out in the parking lot after our shift. I coughed my head off at first but then I felt super relaxed. I stopped and told her that I had to drive home. She let me have a joint. I put it in my purse and drove home. I wish there was another way to get home other than driving on Devils Bluff. Unfortunately it’s the quickest way to and from work. The corn looks so black.


August 3rd 1991-

Hello dear diary. I know I’ve neglected you for some time now. I’ve been busy working at Cherrybombs about four nights a week and making some killer money to. I could move out if I wanted even though rent is so expensive. My grandparents haven’t said anything to me about moving out. The nightmares and hallucinations haven’t stopped but I’ve learned to live with them. I’ve lost track of my boyfriends. I can’t even call them boyfriends. I meet guys at the club all the time now. We’ll fuck each other silly for about two weeks and end it. I know it’s unhealthy and not a good thing to do.


November 12th 1991-

Whiskey and marijuana have become my best friends.


January 7th 1992-

It’s 4:10 a.m. I just woke up from one of my routine nightmares and my left hand was covered in blood. It freaked the hell out of me. I thought Angel Larson had come alive in my dream and had tried to kill me. There were pieces of glass on my bed. In this dream I had decided to fight back and I was on top of Angel with my hands around her neck choking the life out of her. I heard the sound of glass shattering and that’s when I woke up. I had been holding my Jim Beam bottle tightly in my sleep and had squeezed it with such force that it broke and cut my hand. I sat up and looked at the blood dripping down my hand and wrist in lines. It looked black in the dark of my room. I picked up one of the pieces of broken glass and stared at it for a moment. I don’t know what made me do what I did next. It just seemed natural. I began cutting my hand on purpose with the glass. It felt so good, almost like it was relieving a horrendous pain inside me. I felt a weight being lifted from me as I sliced into my palm. I haven’t felt this good in a long time.


March 19th 1992-

My hatred for Angel grows more and more every day. I’m obsessed with her and what she did to my mother, the mother I never knew.


May 2nd 1992-

It’s 4:30 in the morning. I just dreamt I was drowning in a bathtub full of blood. I could see it all so well because there were these ultra bright lights above me. The blood was so vibrant and red. And then she was there in front of the bathtub watching me drown. I’m all out of Jim Beam so I don’t think I’ll be going back to sleep. I keep thinking of what happened that one night a few months ago when I woke up and the bottle was shattered and cutting my hand and how good it felt.


May 3rd 1992-

It’s almost eleven. I can hear grandma talking in the kitchen downstairs. I decided to cut myself last night. It worked. I slept like a baby. I saved a piece of the broken Jim Beam bottle from a few months back. I cut just a little bit on the back of my leg so no one can see it.




June 14th 1992-

Grandma has to know that I’ve been working at Cherrybombs. I’m sure she’s heard people talking around town. I mean shit gets out. This is fucking Bludenhale, Indiana. Why isn’t she busting through my door screaming at me demanding to know what I’ve been doing every weekend for the past two years? I guess I’m glad she hasn’t done that.



June 17th 1992-

It’s been eighteen years since the Bludenhale Massacre of 1974. And it’s been eight years of nightmares and terror for me. I’m high as fuck right now and just smoked two whole joints because I can’t stand to hear grandma cry all day and night every time this year. I hate Angel Larson.


September 16th 1992-

The dream I had last night was a little different from what I’m used to. I was somewhere, a barn maybe, but there was fire all around me and in front of me there were two girls on the floor going at it hard. They were both drenched in blood in a sixty nine position. I was so turned on watching them. And then a pair of sharp knives appeared in there bloody hands. They began stabbing each other but they weren’t screaming in horrific pain like I thought they would. Instead they made orgasmic sounds like they were getting off. I’m all wet just writing this now.



November 6th 1992-

Last night after work, as I started to go up the steps to my room I saw Angel standing there at the top of the steps in the dark. She was holding my mother’s head in her hand by her hair. I froze because it looked so real. These images are getting scarier and more lifelike.



February 14th 1993-

Happy fucking valentines day! Too bad I don’t have a nice clean cut boyfriend with a nice hair cut to hold my hand and buy me chocolates and go to the movies with. I don’t have a fucking boyfriend. Too much trouble. I just like those fuck friends of mine and that’s ok.


March 20th 1993-

I’ve been thinking about something that I would like to try at work. Not sure if Jack would approve it or not. I know fuckface Phil won’t. It’s rather risky.


May 4th 1993-

Me and the guy I’m seeing found this abandoned house not too far from my house. Some of the windows are cracked or missing. It’s really rundown but we can get high and fuck all we want in there without anyone knowing. He’s not a bad guy. His name is Paul. I fucked him and his friend two weeks ago. I think I was high.




June 11th 1993-

Dumbass Phil finally approved my new stage show. I guess I have Jack to thank for that. He talked to him yesterday.




June 13th 1993-

Had a practice run of my new dance routine. The fake blood didn’t splatter as bad as I thought. It feels really good on my body. I don’t think one bucket is enough, maybe asswipe will lighten up in a few weeks and let me use two. I also can’t decide which type o negative song to use, black no. 1 or Christian women. I love that fucking band.


une 17th 1993-

Tonight will be the first time for my new stage routine. I hope it goes over well. It’s also the 19th anniversary of my mother’s death. I hope she can forgive me for my lifestyle and the things that I do. I know I’m on wreckless path.




June 19th 1993-

The show went really well. I think Phil was surprised. No one walked out. Although I could have done without the image of Angel Larson standing in the crowd swinging her hatchet like she does in my dreams.




July 19th 1993-

It’s 4 a.m. and I can take no more! My thighs are burning from cutting myself. It helped a little but she is still in my mind. She won’t leave me alone. I’m staring at her right now.


July 22nd 1993-

I’ve decided that I must kill Angel Larson to have any peace in my life. She has controlled me since I was twelve years old. Not anymore!


August 12th 1993-

So Paul and I broke up. Big deal. His cock was too small anyway.


August 16th 1993-

I just got home about an hour ago from the sex house. Had a threesome with the guy a met a week ago and another girl. I wanted her to cut me while I was having sex but she wouldn’t. She was afraid she would hurt me. I feel so guilty sometimes coming home after being there. I know it would break grandma’s heart if she knew the things I did.


January 8th 1994-

It was about an hour till closing last night when I fucked this girl in the ladies restroom. She walked in just as I was finishing up in the stall. Her eyes got real big when she saw me like she was excited or something to see me. I recognized her from out in the crowd when I was onstage flinging fake blood everywhere. She told me that she really enjoyed the show. I told her thanks. She looked to be about 20 or 21 and a little shorter than me with chestnut brown hair. She was acting a little tipsy, I was fucking buzzed to anyway. We just stood there for a moment looking at each other smiling. Then she moved close to me and I wondered if her pussy smelled as good as her perfume. Before I knew what was happening we were both kissing each other. I could taste liquor and smoke on her breath. She pushed me into the stall that I came out of. We stopped kissing and I asked her if she had to pee. I mean that’s why she was in there anyway. She said yes and she pulled her skirt down to her ankles. She wasn’t wearing any panties. After she seated herself I squatted down in front of her with my legs wrapped around the filthy toilet. Her fucking ass really popped out as she sat down. I squeezed it as she started to pee and we both started laughing. I could smell her from in between her legs as well as every other female that has peed, shit and bled on that same toilet. It made me nauseous, yet turned on at the same time. A few cockroaches were scurrying on the floor. When she was done I told her not to flush yet. She stood up and we started kissing again. She turned around and pushed her ass into my face. I buried my face into her and I could taste her pee. Her stuff got up in my nose. I loved it. I took my jim beam bottle from my pocket and began pouring it all over her ass and slit. I pushed my face into her again. I felt sick and disgusted and turned on all at once. The taste of her juices and the whiskey made my face melt. I held onto her thighs for leverage as I rubbed my face hard into her. Then she burst a huge gush of her sex in my mouth. I sometimes do that to when I play with myself. My face was soaked. I stared to gag as it went down my throat. I vomited out some left over jim beam onto the floor. Not a lot just a little though. Those fucking cockroaches bathed in it. She apologized but I told her it was ok. Just then a woman walked into the restroom and she looked stunned when she saw us in the stall. She just smiled and said it looked like we were having fun. She excused herself to the toilet as me and the other girl continued making out. I could hear her stream hitting the water. My face felt flushed from sexual excitement. I felt like I was going to pass out.


January 12th 1994-

I started my period tonight while I was on stage. I was covered in blood anyway so I don’t think anyone noticed. After my routine I ran to the outhouse to clean up. It smelled really good to me for some reason. I thought about getting off right then and there but I didn’t. I’ve never masturbated while having my period. I’d like to try it but it would be too much of a mess I think.


January 17th 1994-

I tried heroin for the first time tonight after work. My ex, Paul of all people let me try it. I liked it. But I really don’t want to be a full fledged junkie. I don’t want to end up next to that bum that hangs out by the dumpster in back behind cherrybombs. But I really did fucking like it.


February 9th 1994-

It’s 3:45 a.m. and I just had a very strange dream. It was a little different from the usual. I was lying on my bed and I could hear water rushing around me. I sat up and my bed had a black canopy over it that I could see through. I looked over the edge of my bed and I was floating on an ocean of blood. And the sky was dark blue. I went to the black curtains at the front of the bed and opened them slowly. I saw a large building off in the distance. I couldn’t tell what it was at first but then I realized. It was the Indiana State Mental Hospital.





March 4th 1994-

More people are showing up on Friday nights to see my set. I guess they like it. Sometimes when I’m on stage bathing myself in that fake blood, I pretend that it’s Angel Larson’s. I’m going to kill her soon. Oh so soon my sweet Angel.


March 12th 1994-

I think the heroin is making my pee stink or something. It never did before, only until I started using.




April 2nd 1994-

It’s getting closer to the 20th anniversary of the Bludenhale Massacre of 1974 and the end of Angel Larson’s life. I’m going to drive out to Blare today to check out that looney bin where she resides.


May 8th 1994-

Last night I woke up while standing in front of my mirror. It was around 3 a.m. I don’t remember getting up or anything.




June 1st 1994-

Some reporter called our house today asking if he could get an interview with Susan about the Bludenhale Massacre. I can’t believe she agreed to do it.



June 8th 1994-

I love working at cherrybombs but I know it can’t last forever. There has to be more out there. It’s going to kill Jack when I tell him that I’m leaving.


June 18th 1994-

It was such a long night last night. So much had happened. I’m not sure if I can even write about what happened during my set at cherrybombs. It was very horrifying and the worst dark trip I’ve ever had since I was fourteen. I’m just so thankful Jack was there to take care of me afterwards. It was beyond terrifying and I never want to go through that again. But it’s finally here and today is the day. I hope everything goes as planned. I drove out to the garage last night after I left work and my mom told me to make her proud. And I will do just that. The knives are waiting.




June 19th 1994-

It’s Sunday morning and I just masturbated on the toilet again replaying in my mind the look of shock and horror on that cunts face when I drove that first knife into her stomach. I’m glad she is dead and maybe now I can move on with my life.


June 19th 1994-

There has been something on my mind these past two days, maybe even a little more than killing Angel Larson and the 20th anniversary of the Bludenhale Massacre. I had a nightmare two nights ago, the worst I’ve ever had. I dreamt that I died and had been stabbed to death. And all I could hear was screaming all around me but it wasn’t me who was screaming. It was someone else, a voice I didn’t recognize. I’m sure it means nothing. I’ve been having nightmares for years so I’m use to them. The strangest part of this dream though or I should say the saddest is that I saw my grandma. She was in a cornfield, walking around like she was lost and she was calling my name and then she began to cry. I’m hoping that this is the last of these horrific dreams that have been torturing me the past ten years. I’m getting ready to leave now to go tell Jack that I’m leaving Cherrybombs.




















Laurens Will





September 1997

Lauren Hill sat on the floor of Cherrybombs niteclub next to the man she just killed. Smelling of blood, whiskey and day old sex, the thirty seven year old stripper with long sandy blonde hair and long legs to match covered her face and cried. The man she murdered only a few minutes ago had killed Jack Barnes, the owner of the club where she works, (if you can call forcing your pussy in some drunk truckers face ‘work’). Her mind started drifting back to earlier in the day when things were somewhat normal, like waking up with a hangover and not knowing who she had slept with the night before. She just wanted that cunt of an alarm clock to stop screaming in her face, making her headache ten times worse than what it was. She sat up in bed and cringed at her whiskey and smoke breath, “Christ Lauren that stinks.” Her voice was that of a pack a day smoker of Marlboro light 100’s making her sound like a female Rod Stewart. Her 5 disc cd player rotated to AC/DC playing Hard as a rock. She remembered tripping over a mess of junk and clothes on the floor of her single wide trailer as she made her way to the bathroom where she threw up and then flinched in pain at the burning sensation when she peed. When she was done she sat there on the toilet; her face falling sleepily into her hands. She moaned and grabbed the hand held mirror sitting on the back of the toilet. “Ok princess, make yourself pretty.”

The mid-morning memory rushed through her as she sat trembling not sure of what to do next. “Just calm down Lauren, you’re ok. If only Michael was here.” She thought of her twenty one year old son and she cried even more because she knew she had failed him and was never there for him growing up. She was a loser and would never forgive herself for what happened a few months ago when she not only embarrassed herself but distanced her son from her even more. She had invited him and his girlfriend over to her trailer for breakfast one Saturday morning; a pathetic attempt to try to reconnect with Michael. It was a disaster. She was still half drunk from the night before and in her mind she thought she was eighteen that day instead of thirty seven by wearing her way to short pink shorts that said ‘princess’ on the backside. Smoking a cigarette while trying to make pancakes didn’t help much either. They ended up arguing with one another and she threw a collectible McDonalds glass at him but instead it hit his girlfriend in the face. He hadn’t spoken to her since. That was until today by some strange miracle he had called her out of the blue wanting to see her. Her hangover did most of the talking but he agreed to meet up with her after her shift. Why does he even want to talk to me after what happened? I’m a drunk, a whore, a no good loser. “I’m so sorry Michael,” Lauren cried with the dead man by her side. It was one forty a.m. Now she began to cry again when she remembered the draining, worthless conversation she had with her father earlier that afternoon. It only made her feel more like shit than she already does. She left her trailer and drove in her ’86 Buick Century to see her father about borrowing some money. Among the racket and noise of the body shop/wrecker where he works called Salem and Sons, he harped on her about her poor life choices. “You’re a sweetheart Lauren but you’ve made so many mistakes,” he told her. And she thought, Yeah, I’m the sweetheart dad with the dollface and those sad, sad eyes. She was thirty seven but on a good day she could look twenty two and had one of those faces that made people either want to fuck her or hold her in their arms and tell her everything is going to be ok. She just wanted to borrow ten bucks and get the hell out of there. She left her father’s work leaving his opinion of her at the door. It was a hot afternoon; too hot for late September. The air was dry and she thought she was coming down with one of those weird late summer colds because her throat was sore as hell. As she drove away from Salem and Sons she glanced in the mirror at herself and sighed at the strands of grey intertwined with her sandy blonde hair. She lit a cigarette. Smoke rolled off her jean jacket and out through the driver’s side window. She came to a stop light and was staring at a well to do looking woman of about the same age coming out of the dentist office across the street. It made her think of how things could have been. How her life could have been better than what it was. “That could’ve been me with a steady job and nice clothes and a nice car and maybe a son that doesn’t hate me even though he told me he didn’t hate me today on the phone,” Lauren said quietly to herself under her breath with the warm September sun beating down on her face through the windshield. But that’s not your life dollface is it? You were too busy playing fisticuffs and fishhooks when you were seventeen with all the boys as they gangbanged you in that barn back in ’77 while your one year old son was at home without his mother and his granddad doing the best he could to keep him entertained with sesame street and making goofy faces, and oh how you loved it when those four boys had their way with you and fucked you silly and you would laugh every time you came and it all ended with a white mess on your face and black acid on your tongue and whole lotta rosie in your ears.

The clock on the wall by the bar displayed large red numbers showing 1:50 a.m. And she still had not moved from the spot on the floor and the man lying next to her was still dead as can be. “You have to get up Lauren,” she told herself weakly. “You just can’t sit here all night.” But she didn’t move. She couldn’t. The ordeal had traumatized her and she thought that if she moved, the man would suddenly come alive and grab her by the ankle just like they do in the movies. “Just a few more minutes and I’ll try to get up.” Her mind drifted away once more, back to her day from twelve hours ago. Drifting, drifting.

The car behind her slammed their horn making Lauren jump, startling her out of her daydream of a better life. She moved ahead. After a quick trip through town she arrived at Cherrybombs. She sat there in the back parking lot for a moment with the car still running and her mind on anything but taking her clothes off tonight. The radio was on at a low volume. A newscaster was giving a report of the recent terror that has come to the town of Bludenhale, Indiana. ……and not since the tragedy of the Bludenhale Massacre of 1974 has this town been on edge and this scared for a long time. Police are doing all they can to catch the perpetrator of these crimes. They are urging people especially women not go out after 9 p.m. and if they do they ask to be within a group of people for safety. In other news, two teenage boys distributing religious literature have gone missing and…….. A serial rapist was on the loose and as Lauren turned the volume down on the radio a wave of sickness spread throughout her mind and stomach at the thought of her son being the twisted sicko tormenting innocent women all around town. Her mind crumbled. What if it’s Michael? Oh dear god. And it’s all my fault because I am a horrible mother and I was never around when he was little. She wiped her eyes that were beginning to tear up and got out of her car, paying no attention to the homeless drunk laying by the dumpster. She opened the back door to the club and a blast of loud music came roaring out at her. It didn’t even phase her. Very loud rock and roll music was part of her job description and she didn’t mind. Her favorite band after all was AC/DC and she always made a point to have her dance routines accompanied by the Australian rock gods. She made her way to the dressing room that all the girls had nicknamed the outhouse. After dropping off her overloaded purse full of stripper gear, (g-strings, assorted panties, bras, deodorant, perfume, tampons, and cherry scented lube to apply to her nether regions so her pussy stink wouldn’t overwhelm her customers during lap dances) she went out to the bar area. Jack, the owner of the club, was pouring whiskey in a row of small shot glasses. He had a white dish towel over his shoulder. He greeted Lauren with a smile and an offer of deep brown liquid fire. She accepted his offer with a smile and a look in her eyes that said she really needed it. Then she remembered her episode earlier in the bathroom and she opted for a sprite for now. She lit a cigarette and looked over at the stage where a girl was half ass dancing. Lauren rolled her eyes and blew out a breath of cancerous smoke from her mouth.

“What the hell do you call that,” she said to Jack sarcastically.

He gave her a wink, “Give her time Lauren.”

She rolled her eyes knowing that the girl wouldn’t get far with the lack luster dance moves she was doing on stage. Lauren gazed at herself in the mirror propped up behind rows of dark brown whiskey bottles. Her image seemed distorted through all the smoke and glass. She wondered if her life would ever get straightened out or would it just keep going on the way it was, all distorted and out of shape like the reflection of her hard life face staring back at her. The music came to a stop and the girl came off the stage unaware of her bad dance routine. Lauren took another drag from her Marlboro light 100 and saw a picture of Amy Smith in a gold frame behind the bar sitting next to an unopened Jim Beam bottle. She remembered how scared she and some of the other dancers were after Amy died by the hands of some psycho in the back parking lot three years ago. She was a good dancer; had a messy stage show with all that blood though, she thought to herself. She liked Amy and use to give her advice on dancing and the business, but she also felt for her because of what happened to her mother in 1974. Lauren remembers sitting around the table at dinner time when she was fourteen, listening to her parents talk about the Bludenhale Massacre and how frightened it made her knowing that someone had killed three people in the town where she lives. She shivered at these thoughts from the past.

“I sure miss her,” Jack suddenly said as he saw Lauren looking at the picture of Amy.

She reached out and put her hand gently on his and said, “Yeah, I know you do.”

Somehow the time had crept along like a ghost ascending an attic staircase and it was nine o’clock.


By now Laurens hangover was subsiding and she was ready to entertain the drunks and factory workers condemned to small time life as if they were sentenced to it by Satan himself. As usual, the announcer on stage made another cheesy intro and ‘Touch to much’ by AC/DC began to play over the p.a. Lauren made her way onto the stage that was covered in hot, sexy red light. Cat calls and drunken banter roared from the crowd and Lauren loved every minute of it. Sweetheart, this is what you were made to do, she thought. She whirled herself around the shiny chrome strippers pole centered in the middle of the stage. Once upon a time that same pole dripped with the blood of Amy Smith. Not anymore.

Wild faces of bearded men and sweaty long haired females flew past Laurens field of vision as she spun around the pole. The music blasted in her ears and she felt as one with the stage. She was at home.

Near the back of the main floor, just in front of the bar, a group of young boys, (probably in their twenties but more than likely not) were yelling and clapping and hooting like half buzzed college boys at some lame frat party. One of the boys, who looked a little younger than his drunk ass friends, was sitting in a chair in front of the table. They were cuttin’ up with him, grabbing him by his shoulders, jerking him back and forth like a drunk uncle would do to his nephew at a family reunion. The kid couldn’t have been older than seventeen by his looks. He forced an embarrassed smile from his buddies’ actions. From the stage Lauren could see the table in the back and she did notice the younger kid sitting there amongst all these noisy drunk folk wanting to see some tits and ass and oh dear jesus just maybe a little bit of her sweet, sweet honey pussy. She fell to her knees and mocked making out with herself by wrapping her arms around her waist and then her shoulders. That beautiful green started flying in onto the stage floor. She laid herself down flat on her stomach and slowly pushed her back end up high as it could go. Leaving herself in that positon she inserted her thumbs under her black g-string and slowly started to pull them down, but only just enough to show the beginnings of her vagina. She pulled them up quickly and positioned herself back on her knees where she rubbed in between her thighs and over the front part of her panties. She could feel herself getting wet. The thought of masturbating full force in front of seventy people went through her mind just as it always had when she performed on stage. She didn’t want to lose her job though and kicked that thought out of her mind. You can play with yourself later in the outhouse when you’re done sugar ok, she thought. And most of the time she would, even as girls would walk in and out, and sit bare ass naked in front of a mirror spraying themselves with perfume and applying lip gloss, getting ready for their five minutes of glory whoring themselves out, slithering around a black tiled stage under bright shining lights. Somehow during the storm of loud voices, Lauren couldn’t stop staring at the kid sitting at the table, with that look of anger and embarrassment contorting his face. As she gazed through the crowd, the noise seemed to fade away until it was completely silent and it was just her on the stage and the kid sitting in the chair; the rooms only light was a bare light bulb hanging in the middle of the ceiling, separating the woman and the boy. They both were silent for a moment ant then the boy spoke.

“Hi mom.” He said with an expressionless face and in a straight lifeless tone.

Laurens heart quickened at the sound of his voice. It was her son Michael’s voice.

The birth of a scream formed in her throat but was trapped by her shock of what she was hearing.

“How have you been mom? I haven’t talked to you in a while. I can see you’ve been busy at work.” The boy said.

Still, that trapped scream hid in her throat. She stood half naked, frozen to the stage floor.

What’s happening? What’s going on? It’s ok Lauren you’re just having a panic attack. Shit’s gotten a little crazy lately that’s all. Just get ahold of yourself dammit!

“Why were you never there for me mom when I was growing up? You tried a little but not hard enough,” his face still blank, void of emotion.

Then from out of the shadows from behind the kid sitting in the chair, appeared a young girl with long blonde hair. It was seventeen year old Lauren. Her face was covered in semen; a mask of guilt and failure upon her face. In her arms she was carrying a bundled up blanket. Inside was a small child. It was her son Michael when he was a year old. A haunting melody of a female voice singing a lullaby sifted through the room like mist.

The boy sitting in the chair suddenly stood up but it wasn’t the same person. In Laurens eyes she could see it was her son Michael. He stepped forward as if to make his way to her. She covered her mouth as if to stifle a scream but her emotions came tumbling down over her when thick tears fell from her eyes.

“All I wanted from you is to just be there; show me that you care and love me mom. Was that too hard for you to do?”

Lauren reached out her hand as if to touch her son.

She cried out, “Michael, I’m so sorry that I was never there for you. I was just a kid when I had you. Please, oh please forgive me. I want to do better.”

The lullaby was piercingly loud in her ears. So were the cries of the small child who she perceived to be her son Michael.

“Sorry I was such a burden on you mom,” Michael said.

“No, no honey you never were a….”

Her sentence was cut short when all of a sudden the hallucinogenic image of her son began to melt down to the floor in a piping hot bubbling mess of fleshy gore.

Lauren finally released that trapped scream in her throat. The room began spinning. She put her hand to her head, trying to ease the dizziness she was feeling. And then she hear someone say, “C’mon lady, don’t just stand there. Show us your tits.” And then, “Yeah, drop those panties.”

She was lost in a spinning vortex of guilt and shame as she watched her former young self, holding her son. She covered her eyes as tears flooded down her face. Bright yellow and white lights suddenly came into view. They blinded her. The room spun and spun and she heard, “Lauren.” Room, spinning and spinning. “Hey, you ok Lauren.”

The voice was familiar but she still didn’t know where she was. All she could see was the mound of steaming flesh that had been her son. A hand took ahold of her arm gently. “Lauren, you ok doll?” And then she recognized the voice. It was Jack and he was lightly shaking her arm as if to wake her from her daze. With eyes full of fright, she looked down at him from the stage. She didn’t even realize she had been standing there for the past minute. The horrifying image of her past self and her son’s painful speech had seized her, leaving her in an immobile state of terror. An amazing sense of great relief washed over her when she finally came out of it and saw Jack standing there looking up at her. She looked in confusion at the booing crowd and flinched at the incoming debris hitting her. Jack jumped up on stage and quickly escorted her off, taking her hastily through the black hole and then to the outhouse where he wrapped her in a blanket and set her down on the couch. The scene was all too familiar to him as he remembered that night Amy Smith had a meltdown on stage. He shuddered at the thought. The idea that his stage might be haunted quickly went through his mind but he dismissed it immediately. He got Lauren a small plastic cup filled with water. He told her to sip it slowly. She did with shaking hands. The terror she was feeling on stage still clung to her even after twenty minutes went by. Jack sat with her until she said she was ok. He reluctantly left her to herself when she asked if she could be alone for a moment and get herself together. Once the door shut to the outhouse, Lauren dropped her tear streaked face into her hands and began to cry.

“Michael, oh Michael,” She said over and over to herself under her breath.

One hour later Lauren found herself sitting in front of the mirror drying her hair after her shower. The image of the boy’s face morphing into her son still lingered with her. She began brushing her wet, matted sandy blonde hair. Meanwhile, Jack was at the bar wiping down the surface with a wet towel. It was 11:00. There was still a decent crowd in the place but things were dying down. Not bad for a Thursday night.

Lauren finished up and made her way out to the bar just as a group of guys were exiting. She sat at the bar and Jack gave her a look of concern.

“Go on home Lauren, no need to stick around,” Jack said.

She knew he was right but this was her prime time for what she called her side job. The problem though is that most of the crowd had left, leaving only her and Jack in the building. That was until a small gust of air came from behind Lauren as the front door opened. Jack rolled his eyes as he wiped the bar harder, knowing that it was almost closing time and more that Lauren would be putting herself out there for this lone stranger that had come waltzing in on this drab Thursday night.

“Sorry buddy, it’s about closing time.” Jack immediately told him.

“Oh shoot. Can a guy get just one drink. It’s been a hell of a day. I’d really appreciate it.” The man looked about thirty six with dark brown hair and a five o’clock shadow. He had dark blue jeans on and was wearing a black wool jacket. Just a regular guy. But he did catch Laurens attention.

She averted her eyes from the stranger and gave Jack a look.

In her raspy voice she said, “Oh now Jack, it’s all right. Give the man a drink.”

“Really Lauren,” Jack said to her under his breath.

Without saying anything, Laurens facial expression was showing Jack, Yeah really. And of course that sexy smile of hers swayed him to let the guy have at least one drink.

“All right buddy what can I get you. Make it quick though. I want to get outta here.” Jack said.

The man was gracious when he said, “Oh that’s great. Thanks a lot. Jack Daniels double.”

Lauren patted the bar stool next to her, motioning for the guy to sit down.

“I hope your old man ain’t gonna be walkin’ out of the restroom to see his sexy woman here with another man.” The man said.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m single. Besides I could use a drinkin’ partner right about now.” Lauren smiled and took a drag off her Marlboro light 100.

“Well that’s good to know,” he told her with a sly smile on his face.

Jack didn’t like where this was going. Yeah, you won’t be single for long, he thought. He poured the whiskey in a shot glass for the man.

The usual bar banter quickly ensued between Lauren and the stranger whose name she didn’t know because she didn’t care at the moment. She just wanted a piece of him to satisfy her need of sexual fulfillment. Lauren sipped her whiskey and took long drags off her cigarette and laughed at the man’s jokes and soon she was giving him her classic bedroom eyes and she suggested going out back.

And off they went somewhere in the deep black of the club where she moved her hand over his crotch and he pushed her up against the wall in the dark next to the outhouse and pushed his mouth onto hers and she accepted his tongue with great ease. And not once did she care or notice Jacks pissed of sigh when she and the man got up from their bar seats and walked quickly hand in hand to the back.

“Easy now baby,” Lauren told the man with her arms wrapped around his neck. She said it with a smile that said she was glad he wanted her so bad but also with a slight shock at his abruptness. It didn’t take long before she gave in to his cave man like sexuality and indulged herself as well, driving her tongue hard into his mouth. She could feel herself getting wet. Their lipstick stained faces rubbed against each other with force and the man started to unzip his jeans. Lauren took him in her hand. Her jeans were already lowered and she guided him inside her. He fucked her hard up against the wall with the stink of his whiskey breath blowing in her face, the stench of her cigarette breath in his. Two barflies caught in the web of alcohol and loneliness. His thrusts were hard and Lauren held the back of his head keeping her eyes locked onto his and then he pulled out and ejaculated onto her stomach. Her glistening female wetness clung to his cock. He put his head onto her shoulder as he breathed deeply in and out. It was a little quick Lauren thought but she still got her fix and that’s all that mattered.

The man said something but Lauren couldn’t understand what he was saying with his face buried in her sandy blonde hair laying over her shoulder.

“You say something baby?” She asked. “Oh I see, you want more don’t you. Well I’m yours all night if you want.”

His muffled voice mumbled out something incoherent again.

She patted his back and laughed. “You ok? Don’t be shy now, I….”

He lifted his head off her shoulder and looked directly in her eyes. His hair and face were greasy from sweat.

Lauren immediately felt a slight edge of fear from the look in his eyes which was a complete turnaround from only a few minutes ago.

Her smile faded.

The man spoke. “I said,” he paused and an evil smirk rolled across his face like a thunder cloud over the sun. “I said now I have to kill you.” He licked his lips.

She only had a split second to suck in a gasp of horror before he forcefully covered her mouth with his hand.

“You just be real still now little lady and maybe you’ll be all right, ya hear.” His deadly, lying eyes told her she would be dead soon no matter what.

Laurens eyes were wide and full of terror. Her mind let loose a whirlwind of thoughts. I’m too young to die. I’m never going to see Michael again. I wonder if he’ll notice that I’m gone. This can’t be happening. Oh dear god it’s the rapist everyone has been talking about. He’s gonna stick a knife up me just like that psycho did to poor Amy Smith three years ago.

“Ya know, I’ve been watching you for a while now.” His hand was still over her mouth. Lauren could truly smell his sour breath now that her haze of sex had dissipated.

“You’re different from the other ones. You’re special. And I’m gonna treat you just right.” He winked at her. “You’re probably guessed by now who I am. You know I’ve been makin’ headlines lately. Hell, I’m the biggest thing in this town since the Bludenhale massacre of 1974, shit.”

Laurens eyes filled up with tears of fear listening to the man speak. Her heart was pounding away in her chest. She thought she was going to have a heart attack. Little did she know that the serial rapist fuck had been watching her for the past two weeks, hiding amongst the crowd, going unnoticed every Friday night as she slithered like a snake in heat on stage.

He reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled a gun out. Its thick, black steel was sinister looking and now Lauren truly felt like she was going to have heart attack at the sight of it. She moaned in terror.

“See now, things have been gettin’ a little shady in this town. So it’s time to bail out and I sure would like some company for that long road trip ahead of me. I’m headin’ west all the way out to sunny California. Now we’re gonna head up front and you ain’t gonna make a sound ya here. The old tubby grey haired fella out there is gonna help me with some funds to get me outta of this town courtesy of this.” He waved the big, black gun around in front of Laurens face. She moaned again and was still trembling like an autumn leaf in the wind. “One peep from you and your pretty face is gettin’ a gunshot makeover ya here.” He looked deep in her eyes and a twisted smile formed on his face. “Damn I can’t wait to have you again. Let’s go.”

They slowly started walking up front. He was behind Lauren and had the gun pressed into her back. His hand was covering her mouth. As they entered the bar area, she could see Jack wiping down the bar. He looked up when he saw her and the white towel he was using fell from his hand at the sight of the man now holding the gun flush against her head. Jack held his hands up in surrendering motion; his mouth ajar with shock. Laurens eyes were wide and glistening with tears.

“Holy jesus christ,” Jack said slowly.

“Open the register now!” The man yelled forcefully, wasting no time in getting down to business.

“Ok, ok, it’s all yours buddy, but please don’t hurt Lauren.” Jack told him in a pleading voice.

“Shut up old man! Don’t tell me my business. Open the goddam register!”

With shaking hands, Jack opened the register. There was still a lot of money in there. He was just getting ready to put it all in the safe. The safe. Jack prayed that the man wouldn’t be smart enough to ask about the safe in the back office next to the outhouse.

Jack nervously pulled all the available cash from the register. Two large bundles filled his hands. He looked at the man as if to ask him what to do next.

“You set it down right there on the bar and back the fuck away nice and slow.” His eyes burned into Jack.

The rapist still had the gun pressed into Laurens head and his hand covering her mouth. She shook and made a light whimpering sound. Jack put his hands up again in a surrendering kind of way; his eyes never leaving the rapist. He began moving away backwards very slowly from the register but with the quick reflexes of someone half his age, he grabbed the 12 guage rifle sitting right under the register and cocked it.

“Shit you stupid old man!” The rapist scowled and fired his gun. The bullet blazed past Jack, sparing his life. Instead it shattered the mirror behind him along with a plethora of whiskey bottles. The sound of glass shattering was harsh and deafening. Lauren released a startled horrifying scream. Jack fired back. The bullet only grazed the arm of Laurens captor but it was enough to knock him backwards making him lose his grip on her. She fell forward onto the floor.

“C’mon Lauren, quick.” Jack urged her to get up and get behind the bar so he could protect her. She only had a few seconds to raise herself up and get herself to safety before the rapist realized he wasn’t dead and tried to fire back. As she pushed herself up from the floor a loud blast exploded from behind her and Jacks skull exploded into a shower of brain and bone. He immediately collapsed over the bar, and died instantly. He was with Amy Smith now. Her picture lay scattered among the shards of broken glass.

As Jack flung forward onto the bar with the rifle still in his grip, it dropped to the floor in front of Lauren. The shock of seeing Jacks brains blasted all over the bar immobilized her. Do you have the will Lauren to stay alive? She could see the gun well within her reach. But her mind was frozen with fear. All she had to do was just reach out and grab it. And then she heard the click of a trigger being pulled behind her.

“All hell lady, it sure is gonna be lonely on the road. Too bad for me I guess.”

Lauren could hear the man moving towards her as she lay on the floor, Jacks rifle in her view. Time seemed to have slowed down, but in a split second she saw in her mind’s eye the man pulling the trigger and her head exploding into a thousand pieces.

She knew she had to get Jacks rifle but the shock of the devastating moment was keeping her from doing so.

“Go on and get it dollface. I wanna see ya crawl!” The rapist menacingly commanded her. Her heart froze at the sound of his voice. His right hand covered the wound where the bullet had skimmed his arm as he stumbled towards her. No time to think. Just move Lauren. Go. Hurry. Do something now!

As if waking from a daze, she finally turned her head slowly around and saw the man right behind her. Her eyes widened at the sight of the gun giving her a much needed reality check. She flipped around fast, facing her killer. Her bottom plopped on the floor hard as she turned herself over. And surely she would feel the pain later. The rifle was right behind her. She moved her hand around to grab it, not once taking her scared and tired eyes off the man. Strands of sandy blonde hair curtained her eyes. Lauren’s hand felt the wooden shape of the rifle and quickly grabbed it.

“There ya go. Good girl. Go on and grab it.” The look in the rapist’s eyes was demented.

She pointed the rifle right at him but he just threw his head back and laughed. She’s never fired a gun much less ever held one in her life.

“Ya gotta cock it first lady.” He roared out more laughter.

Just shoot him! Shoot the fucker now! Lauren yelled inside her mind.

He then pointed his gun right at her and moved in closer to her; close enough for the barrel to meet her forehead. Should have shot him sweetheart. You missed your chance.

Her eyes closed tight and squinted when the gun touched her head. If she could only figure out how to fire the rifle.

“Now this is what we’re gonna do. You’re going to stick the tip of that pretty little rifle right inside your pretty little mouth. That way the cops will be able to put two and two together and see that this little mess here is just your garden variety murder suicide. Get what I’m sayin’ sugar.”

“Go on now. Put it in there. I would just blow your damn brains out but I ain’t ever seen anyone kill themselves before. Might be kinda neat.”

Her tear soaked face was a mask of horror, sickness and despair. Is this how it’s going to end? Death by forced suicide, she thought.

“Do it now!” He yelled. A small spray of his spit hit her in the face. Sobbing lightly to herself she slowly put the tip of the rifle in her mouth.

“That a girl. Taste nasty I bet,” he said looking deep into her eyes, those sad, sad eyes.

“Now pull that trigger.” He said just above a whisper with his face right up to hers.

Yeah, pull that trigger Lauren. Make it easy on yourself. This is your way out. No more hangovers, no more one night stands, no more feeling like the loser that you are and drowning yourself in whiskey every night, no more guilt about how horrible of a mother you are, no more wondering and hoping that your son still loves you, no more, no more, no more!


Something inside Lauren came alive, awakening with great realization. She didn’t want to die. Her life was a downtrodden mess of guilt, whiskey and lonely sex but deep inside among the sadness, she wanted to live. Without thinking she slammed the backend of the rifle hard up into the rapists chin, making his head jerk up fast and then down again. It was just enough to make him fall back but then Lauren immediately thrust the rife into his chest. He exhaled a gasp of air as if he lost his breath from the hit. He tumbled back onto the floor from his squatting position. Stunned, he growled in pain while holding his bloody chin.

“You stupid bitc….”

His words were cut short when he came lunging at Lauren with his hands reaching for her neck. A loud metallic click sound was quickly followed by an ear deafening blast from the rifle Lauren was holding. The shot hit him in his chest. He stopped dead in his tracks with his arms outstretched in a crucifix form; a ghastly look of confusion and open mouthed surprise lay upon his face. She shot him again and he fell back onto the floor; his dead eyes staring lifelessly at the wooden ceiling fan spinning around on the ceiling. A thin line of blood exited from his mouth and he was no longer a threat to Lauren and the town of Bludenhale.

The clock on the wall showed 2:20 a.m. and Lauren Hill sat up against the bar with the rifle in her lap; her head leaning down to her right. She was exhausted, more so mentally than physically. After she had shot the man who tried to kidnap her and do god knows what else to her, she sat alone in the club where she had worked for the past ten years going over the horrifying incident in her mind. The jukebox in the corner began playing Ballbreaker by AC/DC. She always made sure Jack stocked the jukebox with plenty of AC/DC because that was her favorite band since she was sixteen. She kept telling herself that she had to get up and call the police. But she couldn’t move. She didn’t know if she had the strength to do so. But really she didn’t think she had the will. Maybe I should have taken that sick fucks advice and pulled that fucking trigger, she thought. But then she heard a voice calling her name from somewhere and it was then that she realized she did have to will to get up and move on and clean out her attic full of despair and hopelessness.

Her son Micheal stopped dead when he walked in on the scene that his mother just endured. “Mom?” He said with a crack in his voice. She covered her mouth trying to hold in the overwhelming feeling of relief of seeing her son standing in front of her. He went to her and she put her arms out to him. He slowly helped her up and she looked into his eyes. He looked back at her as if his heart was broken seeing her in this horrible situation and then she cried deeply, falling into him.






































Ellen Sue goes to hell





In the summer of 1976, Ellen Sue was fucking her uncle in the ladies restroom of Wyatt’s Gas-n-go on 350 south just as a black ’65 Buick Skylark shrouded in smoke and burnt to high hell pulled up to one of the gas pumps outside. Her fifteen year old vocal chords sprung from her throat as she yelped out loud as he banged her from behind. Her blonde hair bounced in the dark of the restroom as he cupped her ample round bottom with his grease soaked hands. He pulled out of her jail bait cherry and popped all over her back as she yelped high and loud one final time and he sounded like an eighty year old man trying to touch his toes.

“You remember what I told ya now. This is just between you and me and none of your mama’s business ya hear,” he said as he zipped up his ugly brown khaki work pants.

“Uncly Wyatt,” Ellen Sue said as she plopped her bare bottom down on the toilet seat, “You really hurt my girl parts this time.” Her knees touched together as she talked. Her voice suggested she was from Tennessee rather than southern Indiana.

“Oh now sissy girl. Don’t tell me you can’t handle all of ol’ uncle Wyatt now.” He laughed and grabbed his junk as he spoke.

Sounding a little let down Ellen Sue said, “I didn’t have the big feel good either like my girlfriends at school talk about. You mind if I finish?” She looked up at him with a half smile and big eyes.

“Suit yourself sweet cheeks. I gotta see what this jackweed wants out here. Can’t they see the closed sign.”

He left her to herself in the dark and smelly restroom where she masturbated and then peed. The sink was out of commission so she was unable to wash her hands when she was done. Her stink would be attached to her all night. She slipped on her Kiss Destroyer jersey and grabbed an orange soda from the fridge in the back. She made her way to the front where her uncle was standing by the cash register and staring out at the smoldering car sitting under the bright white lights. She hopped up onto the counter and took a drink of her orange soda and said, “I can’t believe you think I would be that stupid to tell my mama what we was doin’ every Friday night.” He didn’t respond to her yapping. “Hello, are you listening to me?”

Then without looking at her he crossed his arms and said, “What in the sam hell is that out there? Lookit.”

“So, it’s just a car. Big deal,” she said in a snotty tone.

“Did I fuck you blind girl? Look at that thing. It’s all smokin’ like it’s been set on fire or somethin’,” he said pointing at the window.

She took another drink of her orange soda. A flash of heat lightning spread across the night sky and a rumble of thunder boomed from far away.

“Well you best get out there and see what they want, sounds like a storm is comin’.” Ellen Sue said.

Her uncle told her, “Shit, I ain’t goin’ out there. We’re closed anyways.”

“Just go see what they want. Maybe they want their windows cleaned or somethin’,” she said.

“Girl, do you have a rock for a brain?”

She jumped of the counter and rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll just go out there ya chicken shit!”

Uncle Wyatt grabbed her arm. “Whoa now, just hang on a second. I’ll never hear the end of it from your momma if I let somethin’ happen to you. Ok, goddamit I’ll go out there. Just stay put ya here!”

She gave him a pissy smile that pissed him off even more. He went behind the counter and picked up the ball bat on the floor.

“What the hell are you gonna do with that?” She asked.

“Don’t worry sweet cheeks, it’s only for protection. We don’t know who could be out there.”

She rolled her eyes and said sarcastically, “Oh, sorry. And stop callin’ me sweet cheeks.”

“Be still butter cup. I’ll be right back,” he told her.

“Dumb son of a bitch. Good thing you fuck me good,” she muttered under breath as her uncle pushed through the glass front door.

Another flash of lightning lit up the sky revealing black and blue clouds similar to the hellish picture on Ellen Sue’s Kiss Destroyer t-shirt. Uncle Wyatt stood motionless for a moment as if stalling to go any further. The smoldering car looked menacing to him, as if it drove itself right out of hell.

“You better be lost or have a damn good reason for stoppin’ here,” he said to himself. A line of sweat dripped down his forehead. He could feel himself trembling ever so slightly. He was man enough to fuck his fifteen year old niece without fear of the law finding out or even her mother, but not man enough to admit that he was scared of the smoking, demonic hunk of black metal in front of him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Ellen Sue through the front window. She motioned with her hands for him to move. He did but not without mouthing some obscenity at her to which she couldn’t hear or understand.

“Hey! Anybody in there?” He yelled out and then cautiously stepped forward. The car wasn’t on but Wyatt could hear the ticks of the settling engine. He looked around and across 350 south and then moved a little closer, gripping the ball bat just a little tighter. An engulfing fog smothered the body of the black and burnt Slylark like a ghost. Its windows were pitch black. Wyatt crept towards the car. Nervously he raised the bat up above his shoulder ready to strike if need be. “It ain’t everyday a car lookin’ like it came straight outta hell comes rumblin’ in here. Now whoever or whatever is in there best get on outta here!” Fearfully he glanced around again, feeling the blackness of the night and hearing that distant thunder booming from far off somewhere. Meanwhile, Ellen Sue stood by the door, looking out into the night with her arms crossed around her waist with a worried look on her face. Somethin’ ain’t right about this. That car ain’t a real car, she thought to herself and then a gust of horror blew through her at another thought, The devils in that car. He’s been watchin’ me and the stuff I’ve been doin’ with my uncle and now he’s come for me. Stop it Ellen Sue you’re thinkin’ crazy thoughts, now just stop it. A mosquito landed on Wyatt’s neck making him flinch when it began sucking his blood. He slapped at his neck and just then the Buick turned on. Ellen Sue jumped and let out a small, girlish scream and covered her mouth. She could smell her sex on her hand from earlier. The stench made her stomach queasy but not because of the odor but rather it’s reminder of the sin she had committed with her uncle and the possibility of death coming to embrace her in its cold, black arms. Wyatt quickly jerked his head downward at the sound of the starting engine. His eyes landed on the hood. Underneath it rumbled and growled an unholy rhythm of hate. The engine revved up hard and loud. Wyatt trembled, still holding the bat in his nervous and sweaty hand. The hellish car bore down making its wheels spin and smoke and the engine blast out a constant roar of pedal to the metal asphalt suicide. Wyatt staggered back and instinctively dropped his lame weapon and covered his ears. Ellen Sue looked on and screamed in terror as she stood inside protected by the big square window on front of her. The bastard car kept going and going and spinning and smoking and roaring and then nothing.

Sweet silence.

Wyatt hunkered down still with his hands covering his ears. Slowly, he lowered them, looking on in terror at the car. A high pitch buzz played in his ears but he could still hear cicada’s buzzing across 350 s in the cornfield. And then that distant thunder boomed once again. A flash of bright blue light in the sky followed. Ellen Sue’s fingertips trembled over her lips. Her legs felt wobbly and she had to pee again. Her uncle was now standing up straight. From where she stood it looked as if he was brave and unafraid. But she knew better. He turned and looked at her standing there in the window. She frantically waved for him to come back. He shook his head slowly as if it was his fate to go to the car and see what was in store for him. And that’s what he did. First he tapped at the window with his bat. Nothing. Then he banged the top of the hood with his closed fist. He did it gently at first but then started pounding the flat black finish over and over again until his hand was sore. He stopped. Nothing. He turned around and faced Ellen Sue. He began laughing to himself. First a little chuckle and then a full blown insane howl of laughter with his arms outstretched. Ellen Sue waved to him to come back and she was screaming it too but he was oblivious to her anxiety and terror because he was losing his mind out there in the black of night under bright lights hanging over two old and lonely gas pumps and an ancient, demon car shrouded in smoke. His insane laughter boomed into the night and over the cornfield. What’s so funny uncle Wyatt? Are you afraid of what might be in that car, sitting behind the wheel waiting for you? Or are you just scared out of your ever loving wits because of the dream you had three nights ago of a black car smothered in smoke pulling up to two old and lonely gas pumps at the place of business that bears your name; your good and trustworthy I would never fuck my sisters fifteen year old daughter name. He leaned back against the car and his stupid laughter began to cease. Those ticks of the cooling engine started again. They seemed to mingle nicely with the cicada’s buzzing throughout the night. Wyatt stood there with his back against the car door for what seemed like an eternity to Ellen Sue. He looked up to the black sky and sobbed pathetically, yet quietly to himself. He took a step forward with the intent of going back inside his place of business to call the police on this jackweed fucking up his night of sex and then a bout of hard drinking much later but then an unseen force grabbed his ankle and pulled him to the ground where it then drug him under the belly of the beastly Chevy with him screaming and thrashing and his mouth wide open and full of terror, reaching out towards Ellen Sue as she watched him being pulled violently under the car. Too frozen to scream or move, she could only stand there like a statue. Then her bladder gave way and warm urine rushed out from between her legs. She felt nothing.

Wyatt had vanished like magic, slithering away right in front of her eyes. But where did he go? Ellen Sue could clearly see the open space under the car indicating that nothing was there. She then moved backwards without even knowing she was moving. Her sweaty, stringy blonde hair covered her eyes, blotting out some of the horror image through the window. She whimpered a girlish, weak sounding cry like a she was trying to let out a scream but couldn’t. It was just her and the window in front of her protecting her from whatever it was that was out there. Then the passenger’s side window exploded, bursting out a long gush of blood in the night. Sharp, shards of glass flew everywhere. It looked like sparkling red diamonds. Ellen Sue found the scream trapped in her throat and she howled out in fright. The blood fountain seemed to go on and on. Her heart was beating out of control as she instinctively ran back behind the checkout counter, huddling down, covering her ears and shutting her eyes tight. It did no good. She could still hear blood hitting the pavement like a water hose. She cried out, “Mama, please help me. I’m so scared.” And then it stopped. It was silent once again but she didn’t move an inch. She did open her eyes though. In front of her was a stack of 1030 oil boxes and a few six packs of orange soda and coke in bottles. Despite her horror and dreadful feeling of unreality, she suddenly craved the sweet, sugary goodness of an ice cold coke. She remembered sucking down three cokes last weekend at her house when her family had a barbecue and uncle Wyatt kept staring at her and she would lick her lips at him, feeling herself get wet. She fled behind her house and he followed her. He found her bare bottomed and squatting down by an oak tree taking a pee. Steam rose up from her piss puddle. She smiled at him and said, “You like watchin’ me pee?” in her strong southern Indiana drawl and a teasing, cunning look in her young eyes. He went to her with his pants already down to his ankles. He fucked her right there in the black of the summer night with mosquitos biting and sucking and Ellen Sue’s mother sipping an ice tea, smoking a cigarette wondering where in the sam hell her daughter had run off to.

With her heart racing, Ellen Sue sat huddled behind the counter of Wyatts gas-n-go for what seemed like an eternity, her eyes wide and scared. Then the long rusty creak of a door opening came from outside. She gasped and covered her mouth. The door slammed shut. She unknowingly peed some more. Slow and muffled sounding footsteps crept forth. They made a scuffing sound across the pavement like they were fancy dress shoes possibly. She whimpered as they lurched closer. The jingle of two bells sounded when the door open. Her eyes squinted tightly shut as she tried her best to hold in her terror. The door shut and the scuffing sound of the shoes started again. Click, click, click. It was the sound of death drawing near. Ellen Sue knew it had come for her, for she had seen herself hanging from the oak tree behind her house in her nightmare she had last night; a thick brown rope tight around her neck, her innards dangling out of her stomach laying in a steaming pile under her lifeless swaying body. Click, click, click and then stop. Sharp fingernails tapped eerily on the counter and then a bored sigh followed. Vomit rose up in Ellen Sue’s throat. It filled her mouth and seeped through her fingers covering her mouth. “Oh now dear Ellen Sue,” a sharp, cunning voice said from behind the counter, “Don’t fret now child. It’s a very strong rope.” And then a horrid laugh and the strong odor of something burning filled the dark room. “Oh, lovely, sweet little Ellen Sue. I was assigned to you fifteen years ago and I asked why master why? What could this dear wonderful child ever do to earn her a place in your hot, kingdom of fire? And then I saw. Oh dear master in hell I saw. And little girl, if you’re thinking the reason I’m here is because of the fun you’ve been having with your uncle, I can tell you that it’s not.” A cry full of puke exited Ellen Sue’s mouth. The voice continued, “I’m here for that other thing. You know what I’m talking about don’t you Ellen Sue?” Her cries elevated. “Oh come on now girl, you know why I’m here and you know what you did. It happened only just a few short months ago didn’t it. You were babysitting little five year old Freddy Sutton down the road from your house and you just couldn’t keep your dirty little hands off of him could you.” She let out a mournful, sick moan. “So c’mon. The old oak is waiting and so is the master and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Then, a large shadow moved in front of Ellen Sue. A blanket of doom fell over her as darkness wrapped it’s arms around her, preparing to take her to her fiery fate.















Psycho ‘78





The line at the supermarket seemed to stretch for miles. There was a four year old kid screaming his head off at the end of the line about wanting some candy. In the middle there was a young married couple with yuppie food in their cart. They were arguing about President Carter. And in the front were sixteen year old Stacy and her dad. She was decked out in what was considered extreme clothing in 1978: A short black leather mini skirt, a neon pink Sex Pistols t-shirt, a safety pin impaled into her left eyebrow and a black leather jacket despite the hot July weather outside. A round wire like contraption sat on top of her head with two round fuzzy things covering her ears. It was her headset and she was listening to Cretin Hop by the Ramones, chewing and popping her bubbalicous bubble gum looking bored as fuck waiting in line. Her dad adjusted his comb over on top of his middle aged head and displayed an embarrassed smile that seemed to say, ‘kids these days.’ An old lady with old lady blue hair waddled through the entrance of the supermarket and gave an appalled look of disgust to Stacy. The black female cashier’s mouth hung open in awe as she stared at the punk rock chic and mindlessly rang up their food items on the conveyor. Stacy just kept chewing and popping her gum, still not giving a fuck. 1234 cretin’s want to have some more. Her dad couldn’t wait to get out of the store. He could feel every eye on him and his colorful daughter. He thought he knew his only daughter well and didn’t understand what went wrong or what changed in her to make her dress this way and act so defiant. What he also didn’t know was that his daughter was a master of sneaking out of the house on school nights and it wasn’t to go drink at the park or pop pills in the mall parking lot or to suck Johnny’s cock in the backseat of his ’67 camaro or to shoplift, snatch an old ladies handbag, scare some little kids or finger bang that red head she’s had her eye on in history class. No dad. Your daughter likes to kill people. Sneaking out of the house on a random Tuesday night and slashing some fucks neck wide open has been Stacy’s extracurricular activity for some time now. Fuck cheerleading. She could kill the cheerleaders if she wanted to. Murder is in daddy-o, don’t you know. In fact she’s thinking about it right now waiting in line listening to the Ramones. 4567 only cretin’s go to heaven. In her mind she’s already killed the dumb cashier gawking at her, the old lady with old lady blue hair, the arguing yuppie couple bitching about President Carter and if that kid doesn’t shut up about the candy by god he’ll be the first child to have met her deadly touch. Then out of nowhere she yells, “Fuck!” Her dad jumped from her abrasive yell as if a firecracker went off by his shoe. He said as calmly as he could and almost in a whisper, “What is it honey?” And then looked at the other customers with a ‘it’s all right’ smile. “Look,” Stacy said and raised her hand. His face turned to a mask of disgust at the sight of blood on her fingers. “I started my fucking period!”

“What’s a period mommy?” The screaming candy crazed kid asked his mother and then she quickly covered his ears with her hands giving him human earmuffs.

Stacy’s dad was smiling nervously and through his grin and clenched teeth he said to his daughter, “Honey, is this necessary?”

Oblivious to his embarrassment she began searching through the plethora of food on the conveyor belt trying to find the tampons she threw on there. She found it and started to open it, getting blood on the package. “Gross,” she said with a disgruntled look on her face as she wiped the color red from her hand with the pink plastic package. The cashier’s eyes grew large with shock at what she was seeing and the yuppie woman let out a gagging sound and covered her mouth with a horrid look of disgust on her face. Then the cashier turned to the girl’s father, pursing her lips together giving him an ultra-sarcastic look as if to say ‘Really? You’re going to let your daughter get by with this?’ Still with that goofy, nervous smile on his face he raised his hands and said, “Kids these days.”





The Diner





Well you dumb broad, looks like you’ve got yourself in another predicament.” The last time Lila shuddered at this thought she was eighteen and knocked up, crying on the floor to her mama explaining that it was true love for her and her man.

True love all right. No good dog left me and my baby high and dry two years later. It wasn’t easy just the two of us, me and Sara.”

Easy though compared to the predicament she found herself in now.

Lila’s knees were curled up close to her chin as she suddenly awoke from her slumber. A big bump jolted her awake. She was dirty, smelly and unaware of where she was, other than knowing she was sitting in a large moving object.

A semi.

The forty three year old with streaks of grey in her dark brown, reddish hair, glanced sleepily around the dark cabin of the semi. It smelled of old leather and had a tar like rank.

Darkness engulfed her vision when she looked outside the window. The eerie shadows of pointed pine trees swaying in the wind outlined in the black night frightened her. It felt like a bad dream. Lila only wished it was. Everything around her was real, even the large beefy man behind the steering wheel driving the semi.

Lila’s head throbbed. Her shoulders and neck to, like she’d been beat. But there was an even more aching pain below between her legs. Her body reeked of a filthy ashtray and smelled of oily fat man semen.

Oh dear God no,no,no, I was raped,” she thought.

That seems to be the case Ms. Lila.”

She straightened up by the voice, clear as a cloudless day in her mind. Dark days have come to rear their ugly and vile faces again for you Lila.

“No, not now, please god not know.”

Ms.Lila calm down, everything will be all right as long as you listen to me. I’m gonna help you get outta this.”

She sobbed quietly to herself.

“You best cut that out woman!” The big bearded drive squawked at her.

I hate to say it Ms. Lila, but you better listen to him if you wanna stay alive.”

The voice was female. It was young sounding with a heavy southern Indiana accent.

Ms. Lila, it’s very important that you listen to me and do exactly as I say, understand?”

Lila was silent.

It’s obvious you haven’t used your gift for a while. You haven’t said one word to me yet. Guess I’ll be doin’ all the talkin’ for now, so you better listen up and listen good if ya wanna stay alive, ya here!”

Ok” Lila reluctantly responded.

You is on route 11 right now. In about five miles your’re gonna see a big flashing sign on your right, say Joes Diner. You can’t miss it. I’ll be right in there waitin’ for ya. Now listen Ms.Lila, there is a truckstop just before Joes, its Scotty’s reststop. Do not let that ape in overalls turn in to Scotty’s or I won’t be able to help you. Besides Scotty’s food sucks and they play Perry Como on their jukebox. We play Johnny Cash baby! Now get movin’.”

Lila moaned. “Where are you taking me?”

“Pipe down woman.” He spat tobacco juice into a metal can. Brown spit dangled from his beard.

She rested her head on the back of the seat and stared into the passenger side mirror. Her face showed signs of aging as though the final years of youth were fading away. She felt young. Maybe too young when she was at the bar just hours ago as she danced in her tight bell bottoms with the fat rapist, drinking like a fish, trying to numb out the voices that have been haunting her for years. Sometimes they come for short visits, sometimes they hang around for a while.

Damnit, they’re still hanging around after all these years,” hopelessly she thought. Then another thought formed in her mind. How did this voice, the female voice I’m hearing now, know he was wearing overalls? A sense of urgency came over her like a hard slap in the face, waking her out of her daze.

Bright, shining yellow lights were up ahead in the black of night. Quickly she said, “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

The driver gave her a look of annoyance. He sighed letting out a spray of brown spit.

“Yeah ok, we’ll stop. I’m not finished with you yet.” Lila’s spine froze upon hearing this.

“I’ll need a break before round two,” he said with an evil smile attatched to his face. “But listen here, if you try to run, you as much make a squeak to anyone, I will skin you alive you here!” She shook her head agreeing with him. He wiped his spit from his beard, giving her a watchful eye.

Scotty’s reststop sign was shining brighter as they got closer. He hit the left turn signal. The semi began to slow down.

A wave a panic washed over Lila. She began to brainstorm trying like hell to think of a reason good enough to tell the rapist not to turn into Scotty’s.

The Joe’s Diner sign blinked brightly on and off in Lila’s pupils as if it was yelling at her, “Over Here!”

Nervously she said, “Uh not here, please, over there looks better.” Her stomach filled with a sick nausea that felt like defeat.

He hacked back, “Why not here?” The semi was swerving to the left.

“Uh, it’s the name Scotty’s; my dog was named Scotty when I was a girl, he got hit by a car and died, please.”

He squinted with suspicion but said nothing. Just gave her a your’re fucked in the head lady type of look.

She felt it was the end of the line. She closed her eyes and tried to accept it but swirling shades of purple blinked under her eyelids as she felt her body weight shift to the right. A big, bold Joes Diner sign shined down on her feet above the death truck. She covered her mouth in shock, exhaling a quiet and thankful cry like sigh.

You made it girl, now quick, get on in here!”

He grabbed Lila’s thin wrist, “No funny business!”

Clouds of dust plumed above their shoes as they walked through the gravel parking lot. The May night was unseasonably hot and muggy, making Lila feel filthier. A jingle of golden bells rang out as they entered the diner. It was 2:00 A.M.

The diner was brightly lit but dead as a lonely graveyard. There was a row of wooden booths next to a large picture window and an old 1950’s jukebox in the corner. Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash echoed into the diner. It soon faded out and the sound of crackling vinyl through the jukebox speakers blended with the sizzle of a grill coming from the kitchen. Be my Lover by Alice Cooper graced the diner of the dead.

Lila and the big man took a seat at a booth next to the large window. It faced route 11 and those haunting pine trees in the background. Lila wondered what was next as she curiously glanced around the diner looking for a cue, anything. Just then the sound of southern hospitality rang across the dining area from behind the counter.

“What’s up ya’ll, welcome to Joe’s Diner. Ya’ll just relax and I’ll be with you in a minute, ok.” Lila knew it was her. The voice matched perfectly with the person in her mind.

A rush of air brushed against Lila sitting at the booth as the waitress unexpectedly swung in front of her as if from out of nowhere.

“How ya’ll doin’. My name is Misty. Can I take your order?” Her red lips smacked at her gum in her mouth. Lila thought she looked like she came right out of 1957 or ‘58 the way she was dressed, wearing a short, pink mini skirt that had a white apron wrapped tight around it. Her heavy southern accent and sassy aura struck Lila off guard. She looked to be eighteen or so with pretty blonde hair tucked up in a bun and short strands lying over her forehead. She smelled nice to. “She’s so cute,” Lila thought.

Why thank you Ms. Lila.” The two looked at each other for a quick moment, both almost smiling, but then averted their eyes. As Misty physically talked about the breakfast special to the couple, she simultaneously talked to Lila in her mind.

Oh Ms. Lila, you have gotten yourself into one hell of a predicament, that’s one big hoss sittin’ next to you.” “And that comes with bacon or sausage. So where ya’ll headin to, ya on vacation. I hope my hubby someday takes me places.”

The fat man replied awkwardly, “Oh now this is my sister, we’s goin to Kentucky.”

“Sister eh?” Misty said flirtatiously. She winked at the rapist. His tongue wrapped around his lips as he eyed her.

What the hell are you doin’ little girl?” Lila thought angrily.

It’s ok Ms.Lila, I know what I’m doin.”

A look of stress and embarrassment was on Lila’s face.

“I’m going to the restroom, please excuse me.” Lila gave Misty a concerned motherly look when she got up. Misty smiled at her.

Moments later Lila contemplated running out the back door next to the ladies room, vowing to forget this night ever happened. She looked back and forth between the exit door and Misty flirting with the rapist. The war inside her mind was roaring like a tank crushing both logic and responsibility. Then she was startled.

What ya think ya don’ Ms. Lila?” Don’t act like your’re gettin’ ready to bolt out that door! The sassy eighteen year old spoke with the tone of a strict school teacher as she stood in front of Lila by the restrooms.

Now I heard what that bastard said earlier bout’ you leavin, so I ain’t gonna talk to you, were gonna stand here and talk real peaceful like in our minds, ok?” The two women began to speak to each other in their minds without speaking one word.

Lila crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall with a desperate look on her face as she gazed carelessly at autographed pictures of Dolly Parton, Hank Williams and other country superstars on the wall in front of her.

If you walk out that door you are dead and you know it Ms.Lila. He will find you. I’m here to help you and besides my granny said I would be tested someday. I guess this is it. I know you remember when you were tested Ms. Lila. You stayed with that little Smith boy when he was caught down in that well. You was about my age, you remember? Lila wiped tears from her face trying her best to look like she didn’t know what Misty was talking about. But she did.

Yes, I do remember.”

You stayed right there with him in his mind talkin to him, telling him he would be ok, singing songs to him so he wouldn’t get scared right until he was safe in his mama’s arms. Ya see Ms. Lila we have this gift. We can run from it or we can learn from it and use it in ways that can help others. I’m here to help you, because I felt everything you felt when you was raped, every ounce of humiliation and pain you had to go through, I felt it to Ms. Lila. Tears flowed down Mistys cheeks. “I’m here to help you.

They gave each other reassuring smiles and wiped their tears away.

How you gonna help me?”

I don’t know, I’m still workin on that. Listen, you better get back to your table before he starts sniffin ya here. Just follow my cue, you’ll know what to do.

They started walking back to the booth. “Hey Ms.Lila, here’s a quarter. Go to the jukebox instead and I’ll distract him. Go on now. And play something good.” She gave her a quick smile.

Lila turned around and leaned on the jukebox after inserting the coin in the slot. The diamond studs along the back of her jean jacket hit the glass window on the jukebox. She crossed her arms and looked across the diner at Misty standing there at the booth flirting with the fat man. The needle dropped and scraped across the spinning vinyl. The Rumble by Link Wray crackled like fire.

She watched with intensity from afar as Misty teased and flirted with the rapist. The two got up and Misty led him to the back in the kitchen. Lila cautiously and slowly followed behind them. She felt like she was moving in slow motion. Her body and mind were tired and exhausted. Misty gave her a look of confidence just before they entered the kitchen.

It’s on the counter, next to the sack of potatoes.” Misty told her.

Lila didn’t have the slightest idea what the young girl meant. “Sack of potatoes?” she thought. Her face was a mask of stress and confusion but she still followed along. The devilish blues anthem rang loudly in her ears. She glanced around the diner with fear and realized they were the only ones in there. Moving like the wind, she crept towards the kitchen entrance.

Slowly pushing the double doors open she craned her neck to the left. In her view was the backside of the rapist, Misty’s arms around his bulky shoulders. He groped her waist with his puffy oil stained hands. His black bearded mouth snaked along her neck.

Then In Lila’s mind, she heard Misty softly say, “Do it”

She turned her eyes away at the sight of the fat man manhandling Misty. And then she saw it. Her eyes were focused on the large cleaver next to the potato sac on the counter. She felt her heart speed up and felt a rush of adrenaline.

Do it.”

Lila’s ears rang with devil soaked blues and anxiety.

Grab it Ms. Lila. I can’t keep this up much longer.”

She gave Misty a look of extreme uncertainty, rubbing her forehead in a stressful manner.

Do it Ms. Lila, hurry,” Misty’s sweet voice echoed.

Gathering up her courage Lila made her move and reached for the cleaver but then quickly stepped back with a horrible look of indecisiveness on her face.

I can’t do this. I can’t kill another person.” Lila felt her mind unraveling. Her thoughts spun out of control.


Hey there pretty lady can I buy you a drink why you sure can big guy you sure look really sexy out there on the dance floor oh yeah I can do more than dance big fella I bet you can name your poison and lets get this party started what the hell are you doing old gal your way too old for this kind of stuff sure you look really pretty for forty three but these girls in this place are half your age what would your daughter think the daughter you haven’t spoken to in three years because she got tired of seeing you fall down down down baby on the floor like the drunk you are make it a double for the pretty lady dont cry now little boy help is on the way dance dance dance the night away tell me something big guy why you got your eyes set on me when theres nothing but young skin all around this place but youre the prettiest of them all mama I think youre drunk all ready that’s what I think but I aint drunk enough keep them coming mr bartender nice place ya got here with all these pretty girls why am I here hush little baby don’t you cry I can hear you mama crying in my head make it stop whiskey fire throat burn dark red lights loud music smoke another smoke that makes almost a whole pack in two hours you wanna go out back with me big boy oh hell yes I do but first I gotta take a piss don’t you dare go anywhere ya here i ain’t goin knowhere haven’t been my whole life been stuck in a rut hearing these voices all my life and then the girl with the long blonde hair came up and sat next to me pretty pretty girl and I said tell me something pretty girl do you like working here no not really she said she just wanted some extra cash tonight is my last night my baby girl is at home right now waitin on me shes two years old nice talking to you lady she walks away and all I hear is screaming screaming and more screaming and I drink drink drink some more to drown out that screaming and then I hear hey mama you ready to play yes I am lets go warm black night outside hands touching feeling groping having second thoughts too drunk to fuck thats a lame excuse you just got yourself in a predicament now thats all and you want out no way out push the fat man away he gets angry he wants your sex you just want to sleep this nightmare off cant getaway shes so pretty do like working here honey scream your head off face punch bloody nose I can hear them now honey dont cry theyll be here soon vagina kick fat hands rip off sexy tight blue jeans goin in for the kill professional trucker cross country rapist hello america addicted to truck stop whores and burnouts cant get enough sara help me are you there its mom can you hear me fat fuck inserts himself into the aging drunk and failing mother who cant find peace drags her to his truck in the dark of night held captive passed out then awakens to the smell of old leather and the sound of heavy diesel engine blazing down route eleven going straight to hell im gonna help you out of this the girl said eyes adjust to the darkness outside horror vision of devil black horses riding along the semi of death coming to take me away blood dripping from their mouths sara please help me dont go to scottys joes is your safe haven lila do it she says do it its next to the potato sack here comes your mama now shes runnin towards the well to get you sweetheart do it shes almost there


“DO IT! Ms.Lila!” Real voice.

“Huh?” The ogerish brute turned around and saw Lila coming at him with the cleaver. He saw the blade of steel coming up fast, its cold and shiny metal smiling at him. Lila swung the cleaver with the vigor of a seasoned batter, aiming at the fat fucks neck.


Blood splattered on the counter and over the potato sac. It dripped to the floor. He stretched his arms out with his hands clawing at her. He gurgled out a bloody and inaudible, “You bitch, you bitch!” A small spray of blood exited from his mouth, landing on her face. He fell to one knee gasping as he held the cleaver with both hands. He tried to dislodge it but he was doomed. He ruptured a vein from trying to remove it. He fell to the floor and laid infant style, shaking with blood splattering on his face. Then he was dead.

The bloody, hairy mound of his dead body was a sickening sight to Lila. And the thought of what she had just done made her even sicker. She threw up. Her vomit made a plopping sound on the floor. It stunk of cigarettes, fried food and whiskey.

“You did it Ms. Lila, you did it,” Misty whispered softly.

Lila sunk to the floor sobbing. She covered her face. Misty began crying as well and kneeled down to her. “Ms. Lila, please don’t cry. Listen, take my hands and look into my eyes.” Misty gently wrapped her hands around Lila’s.

She lost her breath when she looked into Misty’s green pupils and the unspeakable truth was revealed. Faces of young girls and women, the would be victims of the rapist rushed into Lila’s view, each one bursting into dust as flames erupted in the background. She could see mothers and fathers dressed in black, sobbing over gravestones, mourning the loss of their daughters.

The sad images ceased.

“You still have doubts about what you did?” Misty said looking into Lila’s eyes.

“There were so many of them.” Lila cried and held her mouth in disbelief.

“You saved them Ms. Lila, every one of them. That bastard will never be able to hurt another soul ever again.”

“I wanna thank you for saving me,” Lila said to Misty.

Misty gave her a loving hug. It warmed Lila’s heart.

“Anytime lady,” Misty smiled at her.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up.” She helped Lila up and they went back to the booth.

“I’m just gonna sit here for a while,” Lila said.

“You go right ahead Ms. Lila. I’ll take care of that fat ass in there, don’t you worry. You want some coffee?”

“Sure honey, that sounds great.”

Lila sat alone, resting and collecting her thoughts on the evening’s events. She felt a warm blanket of hope descend over her when she realized that everything would be ok now. And then,

Hi Mama, it’s me, your daughter Sara. I could feel you calling me. Is everything ok? I haven’t talked to you in a while. Will you talk with me?”






















(Bonus Story)


Storm Story





The line at Skip’s Dairy mart was full of chatter and speculation about the storm that blew through town just over an hour ago. Some said it was an F1 tornado, others said it was straight line winds. Either way it left trees uprooted, debris scattered throughout neighborhood yards and roofs ripped and torn.

Ten year old Emily held her father’s hand as they waited in line. It was ten fifteen and past her bed time. He thought the best thing for a scared child after a thunderstorm was a package of chocolate chip cookies and a cold gallon of milk. She looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back at her and said, “See dumpling, cookies always make everything better.” She was happy about the sweet, delicious cookies but had to force a smile because she was still shaken up about the storm, but even more terrified at what she had seen through the window of their basement as she sat huddled in the corner with her hands over her eyes and her dad holding her close. What did you see Emily?

Already Gone by the Eagles was playing on an old philco radio sitting on the customer service counter. Emily gazed through the big window in the front of the store. A light drizzle was falling. The black top parking lot looked shiny and almost sludge like. It was a humid May evening. Flashes of lighting from the lingering storm lit up the sky. And upon every flash she remembered the faces peering in at her through the basement window.

“You ok sweetheart?” Her dad asked and hugged her.

She mumbled ‘hmmhmm’ and gazed at the floor. She suddenly thought of her mother and wished she was still alive. Of course she loved her daddy but she needed that motherly nourishment right now. Her parents had divorced three years ago and then her mother died. It was so sudden and heartbreaking for Emily. It was just her and her dad then.

There was another flash of lightning. Emily covered her eyes.

“Hey baby, the storm is over. Everything is ok now. There are no monsters. I promise.”

Down in the basement, Emily was hysterical with terror. She said the monsters outside with their sharp red eyes were staring in.

The memory sent a cold chill through her dad as they waited in line. What did she see? He thought.

Another flash of lighting.

“Hey, what was that?” Someone in line said.

Emily’s grip tightened on her dads t-shirt.

“Did you see that?” Another person said.

“Look, the lines moving Emily. I can’t wait to dig into these coo….’

A woman screamed loudly. It startled both Emily and her dad.

“It’s all coming true daddy,” Emily cried. “It’s real.”

“What are you talking about honey.”

“The monsters in my dreams; they said they were going to take you away.” She cried into his shirt. His eyes blew up big with horror at hearing his daughter. A queasy feeling of unreality fell upon him.

A big flash of electric blue filled the entire sky and Emily screamed at the dark shapes flying amongst the black clouds, coming in fast towards the store. And on those dark shapes, specks of red blinked on and off. Red eyes of the demons.

Her dad looked up in horror from his daughter and felt a wash of vomit running up his throat at the sight of a large, winged creature flying head first into the front window. A blast of shattering glass and screams filled the small convenient store. A dozen or more black winged demons flew with great might throughout the store, flapping their leathery wings, gliding down the isles snatching people up into their embrace. It was a doing away with of evildoer humans by the claws of demons driven by the power of hell and its king awaiting their screaming souls as he sits in his blood red throne.

Screams of terror could be heard all throughout the store as evildoers panicked and ran for their lives, having nowhere to go but straight to hell.

Emily’s dad held her close with his arms around her as if to protect her, but it was too late. A demon was right in front of them, slowly flapping its dark wings back and forth, looking straight at Emily’s dad. A grin formed on its face revealing sharp, diamond teeth. It raised its mammoth creature hand and waved its first finger at her dad like a wicked school teacher. He frowned and then the awful reality came rushing into him because he knew what his daughter had seen down in the basement was real. What did she see? He had seen it to when he was her age. It was during a thunderstorm similar to the one that had taken place earlier. He was clutching his little teddy bear as blue flashes of lighting lit up his room. He saw the demon outside his window, crouching down in the rain, waving its finger back and forth at him. A thick, sludgy voice echoed in his ears, we’re coming for you David. See you in twenty years.

Emily shrieked high and loud as the demon swooped down and took ahold of her dad by the neck. The creature lifted him up into the air. The milk and cookies fell from her dad’s hands. The milk busted open and splattered all over the floor. Emily didn’t even notice it flowing all around her shoes. She was breathing hard in and out as she looked up at her dad in the clutches of the demon. He was flailing his arms and legs out, looking helpless. If only little Emily knew what her father had done three years ago when he had that knife against her mother’s neck, kissing her jugular. The beast roared at the top of its lungs and flew away, back out into the night sky, disappearing into devilish black clouds, en route to hell.









(Bonus story)


Mr. Scary





Sara’s frightened eyes stared back at her in the mirror in the girl’s restroom of her high school on Hallows eve, 1986.

It had happened ten years ago when she was eight years old but she could still see the blood, hair and pieces of bone all splattered against her parent’s dresser mirror and her sixteen year old brother Jack lying dead on the floor because Mr. Scary had got him and got him good.

The door to the restroom swung open but Sara stood immobile like a horrified statue looking into it’s past to a time when it could move about freely without a care in the world or black dreams haunting her now adult mind with blood, darkness and a childhood game called Mr. Scary; the game that she and her brother would play all the time. Dark memories come a haunting you Sara on this wicked all Hallows eve ten years later after that frightful night. What happened Sara? Dear sweet, little Sara.

Her glaring eyes were drawn deep into her pupils in the mirror where her mind fell back into the memory of her cozy white house on Cherry St. It was October 30th, 1976 and she could barely contain her excitement when her brother told her that morning that a game of Mr. Scary was in order for later that night. Their parents would be at the American legion, chain smoking and playing cards until at least midnight, so the fiendish siblings had the whole house to themselves. Kisses were given and threats of no trick or treat were issued if they misbehaved, but they knew their time would be occupied with terrifying visions of creatures in the dark sneaking up behind them, sending cold chills of fright through their bodies. The front door shut quietly and they watched their parents drive away down Cherry St.

“Ok Sara,” Jack said with an evil, crafty look in his eye. “You remember how to play right?”

“It’s my favorite game Jack. How could I forget?” She said and then her brother gave a knowing and almost proud like smile.

Their game, Mr. Scary as they had named it, was played in the dark. They turned off all the lights in the house, even the tv which was airing the Paul Lynde Halloween special and the band Kiss was destroying the stage as a million viewers gazed at their devilish faces on their tv screens.

Then, one person would stand in front of a mirror either in their room, the bathroom or the hallway. Tonight they had chosen their parents dresser mirror because they were feeling extra mischievous. Or it could have been the balmy, unseasonable seventy degree weather and that light wind blowing crisp and burnt colored leaves all around the neighborhood that had put them in that fiendish mood. The sun was almost down and the house took on a dreary, greenish dark hue from the shadows of dusk surrounding it.

Sara said she wanted to go first. “Ok,” Jack said with a smile. “Don’t forget to keep your eyes open.” The idea of their frightful game was to not get scared when Mr. Scary came up behind you.

As one person stood in front of the mirror in a dark room, the other one would go traipsing around the house making animal like growls and pound the walls and stomp their feet out in the living room all while wearing a horror mask of some sort and then quietly as possible sneak up on the person standing in front of the mirror and scare the living hell out of them as their horrid face come rushing at them in the mirror. If you could keep your eyes open the whole time you won. Sara would lose most of the time because it was terrifying seeing her brother rushing up to her in his mask in the dark, but she didn’t care about winning. She just loved that feeling of being scared and even more so the anticipation while standing there in the dark all alone looking into the mirror. When Jack would sneak up behind her and pop up out of the shadows she would scream and then laugh because it was so much fun and he would pick her up and tickle her and say in his best monster voice, “Mr. Scary is going to eat you now!” And tonight was no different as her skin went cold at the sound of her brothers approaching footsteps; her heart racing with adrenaline and excitement.

“Ok kiddo, your turn.” Jack said and set her down after the tickle fest.

“Now you better keep your eyes open!” Sara said playfully but with just a hint of evilness in her voice.

Very defensively Jack said, “You can’t scare me.”

And with that Sara walked out of her parent’s room, leaving Jack behind in the darkness.

She went out into the living room and began making the best scary sounding voice she could come up with. Jack chuckled to himself in the dark room when he heard her. She stomped on the floor just as he did but it wasn’t very loud or scary since she was only fifty nine pounds. She had it in her mind all day that she really wanted to scare Jack big time. But she just couldn’t think of anything that was particularly scary around the house. She continued making her scary sounds as she searched the house while wearing her plain white ghost mask with two tiny openings cut out for the eyes. Nothing in kitchen or the bathroom. The closets were stuffed with boring items like the vacuum cleaner and her mom’s fall and winter coats. Sara went out into the garage being careful not to make any noise so Jack wouldn’t guess where she was at. But she had to move quickly before he started yelling for her to hurry up and that would take the fun out of the game. It was darker in the garage than it was in the house Sara thought. She quickly turned on the light which was just a single light bulb hanging in the middle of the room. The odor of the family car and motor oil lingered about. Her dad had a work table with three cabinets up on the wall behind it. He made it clear that he didn’t want her or her brother in the garage messing around with his tools but this was Hallows eve and her parents weren’t home and it was Mr. Scary time. Her stomach fluttered with excitement because she knew she was disobeying her dad by snooping around in there, searching for something, anything to really scare Jack with. She wanted to see what was in those cabinets above the work table but she was too short to reach them. The work table seemed sturdy enough to her so she got up enough courage and jumped up on it so she could open the cabinets and see what’s inside. She gazed through the slits of her mask into the dark cabinet. It was more boring stuff just like closets inside the house. Oil cans, dirty rags, some tools, and unopened package of mouse traps. But then a medium sized metal tin caught her eye. She picked it up and shook it but nothing inside made any kind of sound. She tried to open it but it was locked. Better hurry Sara before Jack gets anxious and doesn’t want to play anymore, she thought. Then she noticed a small key on the wooden shelf. She picked it up and knowing that it was for the metal box she inserted it and opened the lid. Her eyes went large with excitement when she saw the object lying there as if it had been waiting for her. She put her small hands around it and removed it from the box. It was a little heavy but not too heavy to where she couldn’t hold it. She closed the cabinet and jumped of the table and turned off the garage light and went back inside the house. Quickly she began making her little girl monster sounds as she ran down the dark hallway to her parents room where Jack was standing there pretending to be scared out of his wits. Those butterflies of excitement were boiling in her belly because she couldn’t wait to use the thing in her hand to scare Jack, just like she saw John Wayne do in the movie she watched last week as she sat on her dads lap while he snored and she watched guns blazing like mad. She was almost to the bedroom and she said in her little voice, “Here comes Mr. Scary Jack!” She pushed the door open very slowly and went inside. Jack could see her shadowy outline rushing towards him and could hear her childish laughter but before he could even open his mouth to yell ‘NO SARA!’ the black piece of metal in her small hands went off and a great blast of sound and light exploded simultaneously in the dark room. The shot was deafening and her ears were ringing and the smell of sulfur attacked her nose. Then she saw Jack and what was left of him. Half of his head was gone. Not really gone, but splattered on the mirror and dresser and floor. Sara really didn’t understand what had happened. She just wanted to scare her brother and as she stood there in the dark and silent house with the odor of blood and gun powder lingering about she felt a scream rising in her throat. She couldn’t let it out. It was trapped inside her because she was in shock. Her frightful white mask glared hauntingly at her in the mirror. Her hands began to shake and the gun fell to the floor. She pulled off he mask and her face and hair was wet with sweat. The scream inside her still lay hidden. And then she heard a car pull up outside and two doors shut and then the front door opening and then the sound of footsteps and her father calling out her name and then the door opening and the lights going on and then the air sucking gasp of terror her mother did at the sight of her dead son lying on the floor with his head blown to pieces.

And then Sara finally screamed.


The terrifying sound of hearing her eight year old self screaming knocked her back into the present time as she stood in front of the mirror in the girl’s restroom, remembering that horrible night.

Her eyes filled up with tears and they came falling down her cheeks. No one had come in for a while, all except for Mr. Scary who was standing right behind her, wearing a white mask with two small slits cut out for eyes.

Do you remember how to play Sara? She heard some gravel like distant voice say.

Don’t forget to keep your eyes open. The voice echoed again.

“I will Mr. Scary,” Sara said in a scared and shaky voice.

“Good girl. LIGHTS OUT!








Joe Zito is an independent writer from Indiana. His first novel ‘The Garage’ was released in 2014. He has written a handful of short stories and novellas in the horror genre, many of which are infused with his love of music and his appreciation for the true beauty of the Midwest and all things Americana. Joe’s fiction ranges from the dark and supernatural to the sick and sexy.






Twitter: joe74zito








“We’re livin’ in the devil land Mary and that devil wind they’re talkin’ about out west is comin’ for you and me. Are you prepared for the end?”

Devil Land

  • ISBN: 9781310715945
  • Author: Joe Zito
  • Published: 2016-07-13 23:40:16
  • Words: 96073
Devil Land Devil Land