Sticks and Stones - Part 3 of 3

 

Photo by Dylan Hunter on Unsplash

3

Reluctantly, Christoffer started for the dumpster and climbed into it without looking back. And then, for a long time, nothing happened. He must’ve stayed in the container for several minutes when he finally dared to lift the lid and stick his head out, at which point, it had become dawn and the sky was painted in the shades of twilight.

Neither Betül nor Farouk was around when he climbed out, stinking worse than he could smell. But their absence was not the only perplexing thing. All around him, scattered at random, were what he could only call human body parts in all shapes and colours, as well as different stages of decay. Even the soil beneath his feet was full of bits of flesh here and there, sticking to his shoes like glue.

But before he could wrap his head around what had happened during those hours he stayed hidden in the container, he staggered back only for something to get caught underfoot, something that he immediately recognised upon picking up. It was a stone, one that belonged to Farouk. But what was it doing here?

He retraced his steps back to his apartment, taking in the bloody carnage all around him but unable to make sense of it. But the worst had yet to come, only he didn’t know then. When he finally arrived at the third-floor landing, the door to his apartment gave way without resistance and unlocked. Inside… nothing. Only traces of blood – a lot of it – on the striped wallpapers, on the floorboards that had become swollen. Neither his mum nor Reila was around, though. In their stead, something else was.

In the kitchen was a large pot bubbling away. As he crept closer, each step warier than the last, he lifted the shaking lid and came face-to-face with a stew made of human body parts. One of the severed fingers had a ring on it, one his mum had been gifted by his deceased father and never took off. This realisation made him stagger back, and his breath became shallow and laboured, and that was exactly when the living room door slammed shut with a deafening bang across the kitchen.

He whipped around and sprinted out the gaping front door, not looking back even once, not until he made it safely out of his apartment and was back outside. When he looked up at the third floor, however, a faceless shape waved at him from the kitchen window, and he fled that instant, springing wherever his feet took him. Once he came back to his senses, he was back at the site of the dumpster, or rather, back inside it, counting the seconds, wishing upon the stars for a miracle that this was only a nightmare and that he would soon wake up from it.

Once nighttime came, however, nothing changed. Stuck in a bad dream with nowhere to go, he climbed out and picked up more stones on the damp soul, and as if to keep himself from losing his senses completely, began to play by himself like a madman.

He must’ve played for several hours by the time he noticed the approaching footsteps and quickly hid back inside the container. Through a small gap, he saw the homeless people returning, each one of them chewing on a human body part. They settled at the dumpster site and drank all night, oblivious to his presence, and when morning came, they left.

This repeated for a few more nights, with the homeless people returning to the container with human body parts and then leaving only to return the next night. One morning, however, instead of waiting in dread for dusk to come, Christoffer decided to follow the homeless people who seemed to be unaware of him, no matter how much noise he made.

They wound up a dark pathway through an empty field or some kind of overgrown pasture no longer used and kept walking for hours on end without respite. And when darkness fell once more, the pathway came full circle, and they were back at the site of the dumpster, only now Christoffer knew where the source of all those human body parts came from.

During this nocturnal walk with no aim or purpose, the homeless people picked up wooden sticks now and then, and by the time night came, those sticks became human body parts. But the homeless people weren’t even aware of this, for they were far gone and unsound of mind to think straight and get back to their senses to realise they were caught in a loop of some kind, reliving the same day over and over, and somehow, he had ended up in that loop, too.

By the second week, he decided to pick up some sticks himself to quench his growing hunger, and although the sticks tasted weird and gamey, like rotten flesh, he did not mind since he knew the sticks were anything but human. The taste even grew on him after the fourth fortnight, and he ended up joining the homeless people, who did not mind him following them around and mimicking them.

Then, one night, as they were having a feast by the fire, something that had never happened happened. One of the homeless people turned to him as they were about to get back on their feet and follow the dark pathway till dusk. This was the first time they ever talked or acknowledged him, as if mimicking them had somehow allowed him to become visible again.

“You stay here, climb the container.”

And so he did.

When morning came, he climbed out only to find himself back in the normal world, no longer bound by the time loop. But several years had passed since then, although he had stayed the same age as when he disappeared. Everyone he knew had long since either passed away or moved to another place – everyone save his good friends Betül and Farouk, who had grown grey and as old as the hills.

They recognised him immediately, although it took him a second to recognise them. None of them could explain what had happened that night, only that he disappeared after climbing into that dumpster. Betül had told the police what had happened, but the police refused to believe her story, and so he was registered into the system as another runaway. When they asked what exactly had happened during the time he was away, he couldn’t tell the truth – or rather – the whole truth.

The two of them passed away not long after this fated reunion, dying almost a week after one another. The entire neighbourhood was in mourning during the funeral, and Christoffer had attended it with those stones that Farouk always carried with him, the ones he found in the nightmarish loop. But as he was paying his respects to his two friends, he heard a familiar rustle in the clump of bushes near the Muslim cemetery, and he decided to take a look at what it was.

There, hiding in the bushes, were some wooden sticks arranged in a neat circle. Without realising it, he picked some up and started chewing, slowly making his way back to the funeral attended by the whole neighbourhood. When they saw him approach, they gasped collectively and pointed fingers at him. When he looked down at the stick, it had turned into a human leg dripping with fresh blood.

Then… a chilling scream.

A woman rushed from the clump of bushes with a child in her arms, one of its legs missing. When she saw him, with his teeth still dug into the tender flesh, she let out another bloodcurdling scream, and before he knew it, the people around him tackled him to the ground and kept him there until the police arrived. When the police asked for his name, he gave them the one his parents gave him, but they wouldn’t believe him, saying he couldn’t have stayed this young after all those years.

Now he was locked up in an asylum, counting the days. His psychiatrist said he had been cured of his illness and that he would be able to return to normalcy once the related paperwork had been sent off to court. In the meantime, to kill some time, he played stones by himself and occasionally chewed on his own arms to satisfy his hunger. Once he returned home, the first thing he would do was to climb into the dumpster. That way, only a child stupid enough to come near a place like that would go missing, and the police would write them off as simple runaway cases.

Sticks and Stones - Part 2 of 3

 

Photo by Foad Roshan on Unsplash

2

“Argh! I told you guys to listen to me! My mum’s going to kill me!”

Betül and Christoffer locked eyes, both apologetic, as Farouk crouched down in defeat and looked devastated as the phone kept ringing in the background. He lived two blocks away from themand would have to walk for several minutes in the gloom to get home.

Also, everyone in their neighbourhood knew that his mum was really strict. She had become so after having lost her husband in a work-related accident seven years ago, and so they feared that she might actually thrash Farouk as a form of discipline for not returning home in time to take his epilepsy pills.

Christoffer, “Hey, don’t beat yourself up too much, dude. You can just stay over at my place, and I’ll have my mum call yours, say that you had a seizure and couldn’t make it home?”

Farouk looked up with misty, bloodshot eyes.

“Then she’ll only get more upset!”

“No, I think Chris has a point. Would you rather she thinks you’ve spent the night at the playground?”

“Of course not! Are you mad!? She’ll kill me if—”

“Then, it is decided,” she said, gesturing at Christoffer. “Hey, lend me a hand and let’s bring this idiot to your place.”

“What about you?” Christoffer said as they each wrapped an arm around Farouk, who was still quite out of it to even lift a finger or move on his own.

“I’ll be fine. My apartment’s not too far from your place.”

“No, I meant, like, won’t your parents, I don’t know, say something?”

“My parents? No, why would they? It’s not like it’s the first time,” she said, changing the subject before he could inquire further. “You had a little sister, right? What was her name, again?”

“Reila,” he said, adding, “she’s not really my sister, though.”

“How so?”

“My mum remarried when I was a toddler to some Japanese guy, who dated her for the green card and then, yeah…”

“Oh, I see. But I thought you two looked pretty close the other day.”

“The other day?” Christoffer repeated, adjusting his grip on Farouk, who was dragging his feet through the pavement with a hollow look on his face as if his whole world had shattered and fallen apart right in front of him.

“Yeah, at the supermarket. You know, the one near the gas station.”

“Ah, right! Yeah, Mum brought us along grocery shopping, but I wouldn’t say we’re that close.”

“Really? Why not, though? You guys must’ve basically grown up together, like real siblings, no?”

“Reila can be… difficult, sometimes, you know?”

“Difficult? Like to elaborate on that one? How difficult can she even be for you to say this?”

“Hard to explain… Not sure where to start…”

“Well, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought you looked close, but—”

“It’s just that she creeps me up, sometimes. Especially as of late. I’m not sure if it’s because she’s older or her teenage hormones acting up, but…”

“But?”

Christoffer cast a look at Farouk as if to make sure the other was too lost in his own misery to pay attention to their conversation.

“It’s like she’s possessed. I keep seeing her wake up at night, going through the entire fridge. Mum thinks I’m the one doing that and won’t believe me.”

“And your step-dad?”

“He’s, uh, not around anymore. Been dead for two years already.”

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that. I didn’t know…”

“Don’t be.”

“And you and your mum’ve been taking care of her all this time?”

“Yeah…”

“Wow, I’m not sure my mum would do that,” she said matter-of-factly before suddenly coming to a halt and seeking his confused eyes. “Hey, did you just say she was going through your fridge every night?”

“…Yeah, why?”

“So, basically, she’s hungrier than usual? Right?”

“I’m not following.”

Betül let go of Farouk and helped him settle on a wooden fence, which only reached to their ankles at either side of the pavement.

“Lamia! She must’ve been possessed by her!”

“I said she was going through the fridge, not eating children, dude.”

“Yeah, so what? Maybe that’s just how it begins? And then, when the hunger grows, she might—”

“Betül! Hemen buraya gel!”

They both turned in the direction of the kiosk just around the corner, where the silhouette of a dumpy woman with a hijab made some angry gestures at Betül. It sounded like her mum, it even looked like her from this angle, but why was her face completely swallowed by the darkness? Not to mention the way she moved her arms seemed so… stiff? Unnatural, even.

“Is that your mum?”

“I…”

“Betül!”

“Hey, you okay?” Christoffer said. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Huh? No, I’m… I’m fine. I’m just… confused.”

“Confused?”

As she was about to reveal what was going through her mind, Farouk suddenly rose to his feet between them. In a trance, he then pointed in the direction of the corner where the silhouette was, before going into a seizure with his eyes rolled back into the sockets. They barely caught him in time, and when the worst of the convulsions were over, the silhouette in the corner was gone, too.

“What… what was that?” Christoffer managed, his voice cracking. “Hey, talking to you, Betül! What the heck just happened?”

“I’m not—”

She never finished her sentence, or rather, could not. A nauseating odour arose from the kiosk, right at that shadowy corner, the smell a cross between charred flesh and the sweet and greasy smell of swine mingling. Then, that voice came again, this time from somewhere behind them, and Farouk went into another seizure.

“Gel! Gel! Gel!”

Behind them was nothing but darkness and several apartments lined up on one side. But not for long. Through the shadows, where the eyes could not penetrate at nighttime, several figures emerged, their chilling voices repeating like a broken record the same words over and over again.

“What do they say? Betül!”

“Come,” She met his bewildered gaze, just as fraught with dread as her own. “They are telling us to come.”

“Come? Come where?”

“I-I don’t know! How would I—”

“Reila?”

Betül followed his eyes back to the strange figures moving closer and closer to them by the second, and that was when she saw the girl she had seen at the supermarket the other day. But like her own mum, the girl’s features were hardly visible in the gloom, as if her entire body had been drowned in a sea of shadows and become one with the darkness.

And as Christoffer was about to rush towards her, Betül seized his arm. “What are you doing? Can’t you see it’s not her?”

“…What?”

“Look at them, look carefully! See, Farouk’s there too! But he’s here, isn’t he? Whatever these people are, they are mimicking people we know, trying to lure us closer!”

“How is… how is this even possible? What’s going on?”

Betül, on full alert, “Now’s not the time for asking questions! If we don’t move any time soon, we might not make it!”

“Make it?”

“Listen,” she said, “we have to hide. And that quick!”

“But where? Look at him.” Christoffer gestured at Farouk, who had finally stopped convulsing but was still unconscious. “Does it look like he can move to you?”

“Who said we’re bringing him with us?”

“Uh—what?”

“Quick! Hide in that dumpster over there! Hurry!”

Christoffer followed her gaze to the corner and arched his brows.

“Isn’t that where those homeless—”

“Stop asking questions and just go! Hurry!”

“What about you?”

“I’ll try to distract them! Now go! Go, Chris! Go!”

Sticks and Stones - Part 1 of 3

 

Photo by Luca Maffeis on Unsplash

1

”No! You missed it, dude!” Farouk snapped as the huge piece of stone failed to hit the smaller ones lined up on the sandy ground, rising to his feet from where he was crouched and utterly devastated that his team was losing. Again. “How can you even miss it twice in a row!?”

Betül rolled her eyes before picking up the carefully chosen stone with the uneven edges, one she had successfully used over the course of a year without once missing the mark. That is, until today. She couldn’t say what it was, but something felt off. Whether it was the overcast weather, the increasingly darkening sky, or just something innately inside her, she did not know, but whatever it was, it made her skin crawl and mouth run dry like her whole mouth was made of sandpaper.

Christoffer, on the other hand, was a team of his own and older than them by a year. He celebrated his miraculous win with his signature gesture, shaking his shoulders in an Egyptian dance and making loud noises to annoy Farouk on purpose – going as far as turning his back to them and shaking his butt like a real Arabian belly dancer.

“Woohoo! Losers!” he said, making a huge ‘L’ with his hand, before extending his hand. “Now give me everything you stole!”

Farouk, cheesed off, “Stole!? We won it fair and square, you little—”

“Hey, easy, you two! And you,” Betül said with a firm voice as she turned to face Farouk. “Give the guy back his stones and shut it.”

“Uh… what’s with her?” Christoffer mumbled.

“Do I look like I know?” Farouk said. “Here, these were yours, right?”

Christoffer studied each piece of stone as if it were a jewel. Farouk had fetched from his pockets a full of valuables and picked up three jagged stones seemingly at random. It was a mystery how those huge stones even fit into his pocket, not to mention on top of all those smaller ones in there, too.

“Yeah, seems like it,” Christoffer said, placing the stones inside his folded shirt since he did not have pockets of his own. “When on earth did you even win all those stones? You have no social life or something? No school?”

Farouk lifted his head with a proud smile, so much in fact that Betül thought for a brief moment that his crooked nose would stay suspended mid-air and wanted to smack him back to his senses. But she didn’t do that, of course.

“Dude, like, who do you think I am? I am the Farouk!” he said. “I always have time for victory!”

“Victory?” Betül repeated, her tone laced with sarcasm. “More like defeat! Besides today, have you ever truly won without my help? Like ever?”

Farouk met her sarcasm head-on, his eyes narrowing and lips curling into a pout. “You’re seriously going to live as if stuck in the past? What matters,” he said, grinning wide, “is what we win today, in the present. Which means, I win. Not you, sor-ry!”

“You’re so dumb, you know that?”

“Who you calling dumb!?”

As the two teammates were about to clash and get into a huge fight, one in which Betül would emerge as the winner since she was larger in build than Farouk, who hardly had any meat on him, Christoffer nimbly intervened and separated them before they could start throwing punches.

“Yo, calm down, you two! Hey, you guys hear me!? Geez! Stop it! Both of you!”

Betül ran a hand down her hair as she was the first to retreat, before Farouk too calmed down enough for Christoffer to stop holding him back. “You guys are craaaazy. How did you even end up being friends?”

“Friends? More like enemies!” Betül said, adding. “I recruited this idiot after seeing him win once, and then he just kept losing ever since!”

“You mean twice! I won twice!”

“Dude,” Betül exclaimed as she realised what he was referring to. “Winning against those homeless people… you call that a win? Like, seriously!?”

“Well, you didn’t dare, remember?”

“Yeah, but only because they are homeless, duh!” she said, adding in one single breath before he could interrupt, “and don’t act like you don’t know the rumours, you idiot!”

“What rumours?” said Christoffer.

“Don’t mind her, they’re just rumours!” said Farouk. “See! Nothing bad happened to me!”

“Just because it didn’t happen that one time, doesn’t mean it won’t happen ever! Just how stupid can you even be?”

Farouk glared, rolling up his sleeves to throw another future punch when Christoffer interrupted. “Hey, guys, what rumours?”

Betül and Farouk both turned to Christoffer at the same time as he was about to repeat himself, both of them seeing red and too furious to explain stuff to him. “SHUT IT!”

“Uh, what?” Christoffer said, the tone of his voice giving away just how offended he was at being shouted at out of nowhere. “You guys… got some loose screws or something? Dude, I was just asking.”

Betül, now a tad calmer. “You haven’t heard the rumours? Is that it?”

“Why would I ask if I knew?”

Betül then exchanged a knowing look with Farouk before gesturing each of them to come closer, so that they hunched down in a tight circle of three.

“I’m not sure where the rumours come from or who spread them,” she whispered, dragging each word on purpose to get her words across. “But I don’t doubt them. Not even for a second.”

Farouk, “Me neither.”

Christoffer, utterly confused, arched his brows low and whispered, “What do you mean? You’ve… seen something?”

Betül drew a deep breath before finally speaking, letting her brown eyes sweep over the two boys for the briefest of moments as if to prepare them for what she was about to reveal.

“I was walking home from school one day two years ago. My sister was sick, so this was my first day going home on my own, and as you both know, our apartment is right around that dumpster those homeless people hang out at, drinking and pissing all over themselves. Like, ew, so, so disgusting… Anyway, so I was walking home, and then I felt something strange, like someone watching me. So, I looked around…” She paused, letting the silence stretch on for a tad longer than either of the boys wanted. “And, then I saw one of those people was staring straight at me!”

“W-What happened next?” Farouk croaked.

“Then he waved me over, of course!”

“And did you?” asked Christoffer.

Betül broke the tight circle. “Of course I didn’t, idiot! If I did, would I be here, you think?”

“I don’t get it. What’s this whole rumour thing, then? To me, it just looks like the guy wanted to chat or something…”

“It hasn’t been long since you moved here, right?” she said.

“Yeah, it’s been about four months or so. Why do you ask?”

Farouk, “There was this girl, let’s call her Ida for convenience. One day, as she was walking home from school, she disappeared. Just like that! The whole neighbourhood tried to find her, but when night came, she was reported missing to the police. According to the rumours, someone saw her talk to one of those homeless people before she vanished!”

“She was… never found?”

“No,” Betül said, “she wasn’t! The police wrote off her case as a typical runaway, but the poor girl was only eight years old when she went off the radar, only two or so years younger than what we are today.”

“You think… there’s some truth in those rumours, then?”

“Of course!”

“But didn’t you,” Christoffer turned to face Farouk, “just say that you played and won against those homeless people? If the rumours were true, then you wouldn’t be here, would you?”

“Yeah, but I was not by myself! All the neighbourhood kids were there too! Just imagine if I’d been there all alone?” Farouk shivered at the thought. “I’d be long dead!”

“Still, something doesn’t add up. Maybe the police are right? Maybe she just—”

“An eight-year-old runaway?” said Betül, adding before he could protest. “Come on, dude! Get real! No kid that age runs away, unless…” Betül gestured them to come closer again, closing the circle, “…something else happened to her.”

“Like what…” Christoffer said, his voice cracking from the growing dread in the air around them. “…exactly?”

“You two ever heard the story of ‘Lamia’?”

“Lami—what?” said Farouk, who was getting increasingly unsettled by the stuff they were discussing as the sun fell below the horizon every passing second in the background, casting the entire playground in deep shadows.

“It’s originally a story from Greek mythology, one only a few know, and luckily for you two, I’m one of those people in the know…”

“So?” said Christoffer. “What’s the story about?”

“Okay, so there was this super pretty queen named Lamia, and Zeus, the king of the gods, liked her – like, liked liked her – and his wife, Hera, got soooo mad. She was jealous and made Lamia go totally nuts! She took away her kids and made her into this scary children-eating monster!”

“Children…”—Farouk, peeking over his shoulder at once as if something had moved in the deepening shadows and crept closer to them—“…eating monster?”

“And get this, you two,” she continued without missing a beat. “Lamia could never close her eyes, like ever, so she just wandered around all night, looking creepy and sad and angry. Then she started stealing kids from their beds, and she’d eat them! Eat them all!”

As she said the last sentence, she raised her voice on purpose, and Farouk almost had a heart attack as he jolted up with a gasp and took shelter behind Christoffer. Christoffer, although equally scared, tried to play it cool.

 “What a stupid story. Why would a monster from Greek mythology even be here, in our neighbourhood? Stop making up stuff just to scare Farouk—”

“But I’m not making any of this up!” she interjected.

“Everyone knows you’re a bookworm,” Christoffer said. “You’re just telling us stories you’ve read! Anyone can see that, so stop pretending!”

Betül, “I didn’t read about it anywhere! I swear! I heard it from someone!”

“Really? Like from whom? Come on, go ahead. Tell us!”

Farouk, sensing the growing tension between those two, with his weak and antsy voice, then tried to intervene. “Hey, uh, maybe we should go home now? It’s getting dark and—”

“I-I promised not to snitch!”

“Promised!?” snapped Christoffer. “Since when do you keep your promises?”

“Are you saying I don’t?”

“Just admit it, Betül! You’re just making stuff up to scare us!”

“I already told you—”

“Guys, listen to me, it’s getting really dark and—”

“Shut up!” they both said in sync.

And for a while, the heated conversation continued back and forth with neither of the two backing off or throwing in the towel, not until the streetlights on the playground turned on and they found themselves way past their curfew, at which point it was too late to rue the day because Farouk’s phone now rang and pulled the three friends back to reality.

The Night Hag

Photo by Jeffrey Keenan on Unsplash

If you’re reading this, something bad happened to me. I can’t go into the details, though. I don’t have time for that. But there’s one thing you must know, nonetheless.

Something wicked roams these highlands, deep into the jagged mountains and far away from the nearest civilisation.

My boyfriend, Rami, and I only wanted to set off on an adventure and hike these virgin hills untouched by humanity. Had I known what I now knew, I wouldn’t have insisted on coming here.

Rami had always been the more careful one out of the two of us. He was raised in these highlands and knew that one could never be too careful around these rolled hills.

It was the second day of our hike.

We put the tent up a little further from the area reserved for the campers. There was no reason behind this decision, not one worth pondering, at the very least.

Socially, I was a wreck. Rami said I might be on the autism spectrum. I didn’t like being around other people, not to mention talking to them.

My boyfriend, of course, was a pleasant exception. We met back in college during an elective course (English Literature Criticism) and clicked right away. But enough of that.

Time flew by before either of us knew it. The overcast sky darkened and the grey clouds obscured the twinkling stars in the otherwise clear welkin.

When the downpour picked up and drenched everything in ice-cold drops, we retreated to the tent and decided to sleep to the sound of raindrops.

Things, as you are now aware, didn’t go as we planned.

I woke up to pee in the dead of night. I wasn’t much of a drinker and the tiny glass I had hours before wouldn’t let me doze off.

So, I unzipped the tent and stepped out.

The rain had slowed down and the weather become less frigid. Squatting down in one corner of the woods, I stared up at the clearing sky and observed the thousands of stars greeting back.

But not for long.

A scream jolted me back to reality. It came from within the wooded hill to my right. Growing louder, a shrill scream of a woman in great distress chilled me to the bone.

I pulled up my trousers and ventured into the depths without a second thought.

As soon as I set foot in the wooded vicinity, the screams faded away as if they were never there, to begin with. For the briefest of seconds, I thought my mind conjured up all of this.

Until then.

A scrawny figure emerged from the dark, shadowy and almost invisible to the naked eye. Hunching forwards like an old woman, the unfamiliar figure drew closer.

“W- who’s this?”

No answer.

I backed away, wetting my lips. “H- hello?” I only looked away for a second when the woman, as if by magic, stood only a few steps away from me.

In the panicked state I was in, I lost my footing trying to make a break for it and fell.

Grimacing, I shut my eyes and awaited the inevitable. But nothing happened. The scuffing woman trod past me and carried on towards the unzipped tent.

I held my breath as a wolfish grin appeared on her hideous face full of blemishes.

Rami!

But my legs wouldn’t move. Paralysed by an invisible force, I watched as the woman entered the tent.

That was when I finally realised what the woman was. A night hag.

Riding my boyfriend, the hag screamed her head off, louder and louder, until every other sound drowned out into the void – even my own irregular heartbeat.

Her slinging tongue was as long as her grimy hair. Her limbs were as thick as the legs of a deer – growing longer and longer with no end in sight until they no longer fit inside the tent.

I stifled a harrowing scream, covering my mouth to keep it from escaping. Before I knew it, I found myself in front of the tent.

The hag dug its teeth into my boyfriend, savouring his flesh with its crooked tongue and rotting teeth full of maggots.

When she turned to face me, the crimson blood smeared on her ugly face washed away the blemishes and turned her into a beautiful woman.

I backed away.

The hag shoved my boyfriend’s lifeless body into the pool of blood beneath him and came closer, taking her sweet time.

“W- what do you… do you—”

I followed the hag’s sinister eyes to the wooded hill behind me.

She wasn’t the only one hiding in plain sight. Hundreds, if not thousands, of dark figures emerged from within the murk and drew closer.

With their outstretched hands, they chanted a macabre song and demanded I give up. But I couldn’t throw in the towel without putting up a fight.

“Let… let me live! Let me—”

She placed a skeletal finger on her plump lips and hushed me, now crimson red and swollen like a young woman’s.

“Then you must become one of us…”

“W- what?” I briefly looked away. “What do I… what do I have to do to- to become one of you?”

She pointed at the tenth. Rami was still alive. His face was unrecognisable, torn and ripped apart, so that the flesh underneath his skin was visible.

I knew what she wanted me to do.

I loved Rami, I really did. He was the best thing that ever happened to me.

But the thing is, he shouldn’t have cheated on me.

The Man with the Bunny Mask

 Photo by Blake Lisk on Unsplash

“I really have to pee, Dad!”

Thomas peeked at his son, 12-year-old Lucas, through the rear-view mirror. It was easy to tell that the kid meant every word he said.

Just when he thought nothing could top getting lost in the dead of night, far away from the nearest civilisation, this happened. How in the world did things end up like this?

The GPS kept telling him to turn right at each turn as if it was pre-programmed to do so. Not to mention he had nothing to rely on but this stupid machine getting on his nerves.

There was no use in bringing a map, either. He wouldn’t be able to read it. His generation was one of the first who got access to the digital world, and by the time he reached adulthood and grew his own family, all the things the generations before him learned by heart, got lost somewhere down the thread of life.

“Dad! I can’t hold it in anymore!”

“Hang on, bud! We’re almost there! I promise!”

“You said that, like, an hour ago! I- I can’t keep it in!”

With bated breath, now visibly more antsy than moments before, Thomas pulled the car to the side of the lane lined with towering trees and thicket and hit the brakes. In the chaos, he forgot to turn off the engine and dragged his son further into the woods.

“Do you feel better now?”

“Hmm! But Dad?”

“What is it?”

His son hesitated. “Remember that time I asked if I could put on that pumpkin costume for Halloween? The one Mum brought?”

“I do. Why do you—”

“Mum didn’t buy it for me.”

“She didn’t?”

Lucas averted his gaze. “The thing is… I- I was going to tell you! I really was! But he told me not to!”

“He?” Thomas couldn’t help but lean forwards upon hearing the distress in his son’s voice. “Who are you talking about?”

“The man with the bunny mask! He said you’d be very angry if I told you about him!”

“The- the man with the bunny mask?”

“Hmm! He said he’d prepare a gift for me if I kept my word! And it worked! Dad, it really worked!”

“Hold on a sec!” he said, no longer able to hide the confusion in his voice. “What- what do you mean? Lucas?” His voice trailed off as he turned around to follow his son’s gaze. “What are you looking at, buddy?”

There was no one there save their car with the headlights on.

“Lucas? Lucas, what are you looking at?”

Lucas’s voice fell to a whisper. “He brought Mum. Look! She’s right there! In front of the car! Dad, can’t you see her? She’s…” His eyes grew narrower. “But why’s Mum crying? She’s supposed to be happy!”

Thomas spun around in place. The harrowing cries came from all directions. But it wasn’t a cry of despair or joy, it was one fraught with horror.

The headlights switched off. Everything plunged into darkness.

“Wait a minute! That’s not Mum! Dad, that’s not Mummy! He lied to me!”

“Lucas? Son? Look at me. That’s right! What… No, don’t cry. There you go… Let’s… let’s calm down and have a chat, okay? Lucas? You gotta answer me.”

“Y- yes, Dad.”

“All right… Good boy. Now, tell me what’s going on. Who’s the man in the bunny mask? What did you… did you promise him?”

“He- he said he’d bring Mum back! But he lied to me, Dad!”

“I know. I know… It’s okay. You didn’t know he’d lie, right?”

The screams grew louder.

“He’s- he’s hurting her, Dad! We need to do something!”

Thomas seized him as he was about to return to the single-lane road plunged into pitch-black darkness.

“We gotta stay here and not make a single sound, okay?”

“But- but—”

“Lucas, promise me. Hmm?”

He nodded. Thomas loosened his grip and placed a kiss on his head before letting go.

“What did you promise the man in the bunny mask, Lucas?”

Lucas leaned in and pulled him by the ear. “He said Mummy’s in pain and that she doesn’t like being cold. If I… if I only did as he told me, he said he’d bring her back to us and that- and that we could become a family again!”

“What did you do, Lucas?”

“I…”

“It’s okay, buddy. Everyone makes mistakes once in a while. I certainly did when I was your age. You can tell me…”

“That pumpkin costume. He said Mummy’s cold and needs to wear it. I- I knew you would be angry, so I didn’t tell you!”

“You… went to the graveyard? When? Lucas! When did you go to the graveyard?”

“Are you upset with me?”

Thomas scratched the back of his head, trying to calm his nerves and appear less agitated than he really was.

“No, no… I’m just… surprised.”

“Two days ago. I went there with the man with the bunny mask.”

“You did what?”

“I- I know I shouldn’t have and that you told me not to speak to strangers. But Dad! He’s not a stranger! He said you knew him and that you were good buddies! He even showed me a picture!”

“Picture…?”

Lucas nodded. “He said you’d remember him by his bunny mask!”

Thomas backed away as memories flooded his mind.

It was the 31st of October 2008.

He went trick-or-treating with his friends from school. They were all roughly the same age. Jasper, Lee, and him. The three musketeers. Everyone in their neighbourhood knew they were inseparable.

Lee was calmer in nature than both him and Jasper. He came from a spiritual household and hated religion like a pest. He was also the oldest of them – and the more pessimistic one – who always brought the mood down with his scientific and overly realistic approach to everything.

Jasper, on the other hand, was wild. Literally. Nothing in this world could control or slow him down. It was thanks to him they went on the most absurd of adventures after school. He was an only child and his family lived in the more affluent parts of their neighbourhood.

There was this kid everyone used to bully. Jasper called him ‘The Fatty’. No one knew his real name. Unlike the other kids in their neighbourhood, The Fatty rarely went to school or played outside in the nearby playground.

The Fatty and his family lived in a ramshackle house two blocks from Lee. Whenever they visited Lee to call him outside to play, they would pass by the crumpling building and get the heebie-jeebies.

That night, on Halloween night, Jasper suggested they all dress up as cut-throat pigs and pull a prank on The Fatty. So, they went to the crumpling house and knocked on the just as battered door.

None of them expected The Fatty to join them. The moment Jasper asked if he wanted to come trick or treating with them, he replied ‘yes’ without wasting a second.

The poor thing had no costume to wear and was blatantly self-aware of it as they went from house to house down the neighbourhood. That was why none of the doors they knocked on gave him any sweets.

Lee saw the bunny mask first. It was caked in mud on the pavement and had become soaking wet by the downpour. It was obvious that The Fatty didn’t want to wear the bunny mask, but Jasper kept asking him to wear it. Both Lee and Thomas knew that Jasper wouldn’t let The Fatty off the hook that easily.

To commemorate the fateful night, they even took a picture in front of Lee’s house and printed it out at Jasper’s place. What none of them knew, as The Fatty went around with that hideous mask, was that it would be anything but a plain night.

It was the day after Halloween night.

The school and most other institutions were on break, so everyone was at home. His big sister, Kathy, was the first one who notice that the neighbourhood the news talked about was theirs. She screamed her off telling them to all hurry to the drawing room and watch the news.

His dad worked as a janitor and hadn’t been on a break the entire year. When he left the kitchen, he told Kathy, ‘It’d better be worth my time’. It was.

The Fatty had slaughtered his entire family and then called the police afterwards. They found him wearing the bunny mask still and couldn’t explain why he did what he did. Apparently, after having a chat with Jasper and Lee, Thomas learnt that the poor kid said, ‘The mask made me do it’.

When the authorities brought him to the juvie and locked him up for good, there was but one thing he kept repeating: ‘This is not the end.’

Thomas snapped back to reality. When the memories dispersed, he realised that his son was no longer there. He turned around without knowing why.

The Fatty forced the bunny mask over his son. As they met eyes for the first time in many years, a wolfish grin appeared on The Fatty’s face. It was no longer concealed behind the hideous mask.

As his son drew closer with a knife clutched tight, The Fatty went up in smoke and disappeared. That was when he noticed something. The woman lying on the ground, right in front of the switched-off headlights, it was his wife.

The crooked knife… it was already plunged in crimson blood.

Now it all made sense.

That day, when he went out of town to tend to business in the south, it wasn’t a robber who took her out and made him a widower. Just for how long had his son been in contact with The Fatty? He’d probably never know.

Moreover, what had become of Lee and Jasper? Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t heard from either of them ever since his wife passed away.

What day was it, again? Right… It was Halloween night.

Just like it was today.

The Shapeshifter

Photo by Sixties Photography on Unsplash

I didn’t know what to do.

My parents, sister and brother have not returned. I called my sister, Annika, roughly two hours ago. She said they crossed the railway bridge and would be at home in twenty or so minutes.

It has been several hours already. I figured they swung by the gas station near the intersection to buy snacks or something at first. Now I wasn’t so sure about that. I couldn’t stop thinking that something bad went down. 

Christopher just got his driving license and Dad said he’d let that fool drive back home from their trip to Grandma. She lived in a nursing home in another state and had surgery a week ago. Her surgeon said she’d live another year if everything went well.

The wall lamp on the porch kept switching on and off. I thought they’d arrived the first time it happened an hour ago. But our car, a white Volvo, had not pulled up in the driveway.

Then it flickered on a few more times after this. I counted the time between each switch after the third time – six minutes elapsed between each.

Four minutes passed since the last time it switched on. I’ve locked all the doors. Both the porch and driveway were vacant. No one was there, trying to prank me. So why did the light keep switching on? It was driving me up the wall. 

 I sent Mum a message fifteen minutes ago and asked if she could call our neighbour, Mr Bourgon, and ask if he could see anything suspicious outside.

Mr Bourgon caught a few burglars red-handed over the years and had a double-barrelled shotgun. Ann and I saw him shoot some rats a few years back even, when our working-class neighbourhood got overcrowded with those gnawers. 

It happened again. The light flickered on. Wait, what was that noise? A car pulled up in the driveway. It didn’t sound like our car, though. That girl was almost three decades old and I’d recognise it if it was her.

Dad got her from his broke uncle, who used to sell foreign cars in the ghetto for a cheap price. Mum said almost all parts had been replaced with cheap parts, and that it was most likely stolen from some Scandinavian tourists back in the ‘90s.

Okay, turns out I was wrong. It was our car. But I couldn’t see anyone in it. I called Dad this time. No one picked up the phone.

I refreshed the screen more often than I wanted to admit, but not even Mum replied. Just what was going on? Why were none of them replying to me? 

The car’s all right. It was still dark outside since the light switched off again, but I couldn’t see anything wrong with it. 

I got a call from Ann. She hung up when I asked where she was. The light stopped turning on and off for good, by the way. Maybe I should call the police?

Annika called again. Someone was breathing on the other end of the line this time. I couldn’t tell if it was her, though. It wasn’t like my sister to do such a thing, you know, pulling pranks on me. She was ten years older and had been an adult the longest, while I was eleven and Christopher seventeen years old.

Chris liked to tease me a lot. He was a fool, though. He never played video games with me but would always scream his head off on the phone while playing Battle Royale with his friends. Online friends, that is, because he was socially inept.

One time I caught him swearing and ratted him out to Dad. Dad took his phone away as a punishment. He wasn’t allowed to be online for two weeks. He got all sulky after that one time and said I was being an idiot and that he hated me. 

Ann said he’d grow out of it someday, but he kept getting worse. Mum and Dad kinda gave up on him; I overheard them talk the other day. Dad said he was going to kick him out or something so that he’d learn how to fend for himself sooner rather than later.

My sister was on a visit over the holidays. She studied mechanical engineering out of town and had not paid a visit in the last couple of months. Mum said she’d graduate before the summer break. Dad was stoked, of course.

But I kept hearing Ann cry every night. Our bedrooms were next to each other. Every night, as soon as she thought we were all asleep, I’d hear her raise her voice at someone and choke up. I think she was talking to her boyfriend. 

Mum sent a message. It wasn’t a reply, though, just random words that had somehow come together. It looked like something an illiterate child would punch in without knowing what the heck it was doing

 I sent her a message and asked why our car was in the driveway. She read the message as soon as I sent it. Then I heard something. It came from Annika’s bedroom upstairs. 

The only thing out of the ordinary was a cracked window in her room. I closed it and went downstairs to find the front door ajar. Someone was in here with me.

I picked up our spare keys from the drawer and went outside. I was thinking of waking up Mr Bourgon until another call came through. This time, it was from Chris. I still remember how the conversation went. It was so random. Then again, it all made sense in the end. 

“Chris, where are you—”

“You up, kiddo?”

“Hmm. I’ve been up since a while ago. Where are you? There’s nobody in the car.”

“What are you doing outside?”

“I think someone’s in the house. I’m going over to—”

“Wait, what’d just say?”

“Someone’s in the house, and- and I don’t know what to do, Chris! I’m afraid. I want Mum. Where are you? I can’t see you guys anywhere.”

“What do [unintelligible] can’t see me?”

“You’re not—can you see me? Chris?”

“I’m staring right at ya, buddy. Look at the window.”

I looked up at the second window from the left. No one was there.

“You’re not there, Chris, stop fooling around! I said I was scared! I’m gonna tell Mum when she comes home!”

“Dennis [unintelligible]. Like, did you hit your head or something?”

“No…?”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not looking at you, stupid! You’re not even here! Nobody is! I’m scared. It’s so dark. Where’s Mum and Dad?”

“What are you [unintelligible] holding?”

“The phone, duh! The one you conned me into taking, remember? You said—”

“I know what I said! I’m not talking ‘bout the damn phone!”

“Watch your language or else—”

“I said, stop! Dennis, stop! What’re you doing? Where’d you [unintelligible]—isn’t that Ann’s?”

“Chris? Hello?”

“When did you [unintelligible]? I said—you okay, buddy?”

“Hello…? I can’t hear you, Chris! Chris! Christopher, are you there?”

The line went dead.

Another call came in. 

“Mum! I- I think something’s not right with Chris! He’s been—”

“Oh, God! Oh, God! My baby! What [unintelligible] to you?”

“Mum? Are you with Chris? What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

“[unintelligible] did you? My poor, poor baby!”

“Mummy I’m scared! Please, say something… Where’s Dad? And Annika? Did you see the message I sent you?”

“Dennis, is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, I…”

“Where’s your sister, sweetheart?”

“I- I thought she was with you guys.”

“Dennis, please. Tell me where she is. Hmm? [unintelligible] good boy.”

“I don’t know what’s going on. I- I want Dad.”

“Tell me where she is.”

“I- I don’t know. I—hold on, Mum. Ann’s calling.”

“Dennis, wait—”

“Ann, where are you? Mum’s really upset! She keeps asking where you are!”

“Listen, there’s something really strange—where’s Chris?”

“I think he’s in his room. But he wasn’t there when I was upstairs. Did you guys—”

“Scchh! Keep your voice down!”

“What- what’s going on, Ann? Where’s everyone? I’m- I’m scared!”

“Do you see the car?”

“I’m right next to it! I’ve tried to open it, but it won’t budge!”

“Go, open the trunk. Hurry! Dennis, hurry!”

“What’s in the trunk?”

“Just [unintelligible] go!”

“I- I can’t open it!”

“Try harder, for crying out loud! Come on! Think of it as a competition! Whoever opens the trunk first wins!”

“What do you I win?”

“I- I dunno, just keep trying. Did it work? Dennis? [unintelligible]”

“What’s… in those bags? It smells bad. I don’t like this.”

“Anything else?”

“Like what?”

“Dunno, a paper? A quilt, anything, really.”

“There’s a receipt under one of the bags. It’s soaked through, though.”

“Can you see what’s written on it?”

“Uh, I’m not sure. It’s kinda hard to read…”

“For [unintelligible] can’t you just do one thing right? I need you to help me!”

“I am helping you, it’s just—”

“Wait a sec! Did you [unintelligible]. What’s that?”

“There’s another receipt here. I think it’s from that gas station near the intersection.”

“Don’t you hear that?”

“Did you guys buy those trash bags? And some—”

“Dennis, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” I looked around the dark. “Are you here? I can’t see you.”

“No, but you are. How is [unintelligible]?”

“Ann? This is not funny! Not at all! Is Mum and Chris in on this?”

“Dennis, is this really you?”

“I- I really don’t like this anymore! I’m scared! Can’t you just stop? I won’t ever steal your chips again! And- and I’ll be good to Chris too! I won’t snitch on him, I promise!”

“[unintelligible]. Now!”

“What?”

“Go, hide, now! Hide! Get in the trunk!”

I glanced at the trunk full of nasty plastic bags.

“No, I—”

“[unintelligible] just do it! Get. In. The. Trunk. Now!”

“Where- where’s Dad?”

“Oh my god!”

“Ann?”

“NO! [unintelligible] NO! I can’t—can’t breathe! I can’t! [unintelligible]! Stop [unintelligible]! I can’t—Dennis, are you there?”

“Mum?”

“Did you get in the trunk, sweetheart?”

“Where’s… where’s Annika?”

“She’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“I’m- I’m calling Mr Bourgon over. I think he’s awake now. The lights just turned on.”

“No, stay put. I’ll be there in jiffy.”

“I don’t want to stay here. It smells so bad, these bags.”

“Whatever you do, don’t open them, okay? I’m almost there.”

I studied one of the lighter bags. There was something round inside. Like two ping-pong balls. The lamp on the porch switched on. I let go of the bag.

“Mummy?”

Thus wasn’t Mum. It was a man I had never seen before. He grinned from ear to ear. I looked at the plastic bags. As I opened one of the larger ones, the stranger drew nearer. I recoiled. 

My father’s decapitated head rolled down and stopped right at my feet. Gasping for air, I looked up at the stranger whose wolfish face morphed into mine.

I ran for the hills. Behind me, my doppelgänger guffawed like a maniac.

Mr Bourgon’s front door was open. I ran inside and locked the door. I had never been to his house before. But this wasn’t a house. What was this place?

As the creature banged on the door, I turned around. My eyes grew wide. This place, it… it was a lair! The door unlocked. I held my breath. A call came through. It was… from Dad.

“What did I say about opening the door to strangers?”

“You’re… This is not real.”

“I just called Mr Bourgon. He should be over any minute. Don’t let anyone in until he comes, okay? Your Mum’s been on pins and needles since you sent that message! She keeps saying she’s got a bad feeling.”

“You… called Mr Bourgon?”

The door gradually opened, creaking, taking its sweet time and teasing. 

“We’re almost there, buddy. I think… Hey, Chris, isn’t that Mr Bourgon’s car? The one next to the green one? No, the other one.”

“Dad, I’m- I’m sorry, I… I didn’t know.”

The door flung open.