Decomposing Head

by Vincent V. Cava

  The chubby little troll pulled a navy blue t-shirt out of his backpack. Across the chest was the same slogan from the van. A piece of duct tape had been placed on top of Big Al’s name with “Lenny” written over it in sharpie.

  Ms. White pouted her wrinkled cheeks while she pondered over the buffoon’s proposal, “I don’t know. This sounds like it might be expensive.”

  “Alright lady, here’s what I’m going to do. What would you say if I knocked off the $199 analysis fee?”

  The fatty chimed in again, “I’d say you’re crazy, Dan!”

  “See? Lenny get’s it! Never in my life have I done that, but I like you, lady. You remind me of my Grammy before the dementia set in and she couldn’t go to the bathroom by herself anymore. Now, I can’t cut the $499 dollar Spectral Investigation fee, but I can give you bargain basement price on an exorcist. How does $1,997 sound? I dare you to find a cheaper exorcist than that! We take cash or check of course.”

  Ms. White hobbled over to shut the door that the two men had left open when they entered her house, making sure to latch both of the locks.

  “Oh my, that is a very tempting offer, but I think I’ll be skipping out on the exorcism today, thank you. You were right about there being paranormal activity going on in this house, but it certainly isn’t ghosts that you need to worry about.” The Paranormal Investigators watched in terror as a set of fangs extended from the old woman’s gums. A pair of bat like wings sprouted from her back, while Ms. White’s eyes turned gunpowder black. Hair began falling from her head in clumps as she grew in stature – both in height and girth. She flashed a hungry grin at the two men. “Vampires on the other hand, now that could be a problem!”

  Typo

  S.R. Tooms

  It was a new e-mail; from a name I didn’t recognize. I’ve always been told to be wary of these. Viruses and things, you know. But what really alarmed me was the subject: LOOK.

  Curiosity outweighed caution this night, and so I opened the message – and here I must admit my hand shook a little as I did so. There were two words inside: Behind you.

  There I sat in my room, a dark haven of sorts (aside from the bright monitor casting its glow across the walls), as I spun my chair around ever so slowly… Blackness greeted my eyes. I peered into the darkness, with racing heart, and shaking limbs. Nothing. After an eternal moment of terror, I once again spun my chair back around to face the monitor, having been satisfied that this was nothing more than a crude joke.

  But just then a whir of sound caused me to jolt upright – for there beside me, the printer rumbled to life as a sheet of paper came ejecting out from the top. Slowly, ever so carefully, my hand reached into the shadows, retrieving this page. The dim lighting proved too dark for me to read the words. I placed the still warm paper in front of my screen and here I could just make out the letter: Apologies, I meant to your left.

  This time I couldn’t move; frozen stiff with fright as I heard the throaty breathing on my left, there in the outskirts of darkness beyond the hazy glow.

  Rice Pudding

  Vincent V. Cava

  "Ted, I'm back! You home?"

  Huh? I guess not. He must be at work or something. God look at this place, it's a pigsty! I've had some messy roommates, but Ted has got to be the worst. The slob actually expects me to clean up after him as if I was his freaking mother.

  Look at this kitchen! I bet he hasn't done the dishes in the 2 weeks I've been gone. It's filthy! I’m gonna kill that guy when I see him. What's that on the counter?

  Wait...is that...is that Rice Pudding!? I love Rice pudding! I'm so hungry too. I haven't eaten since before my plane departed. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I took just one incy wincy bite. No, fuck that! If I'm gonna be cleaning this place all day, then I’m going to eat the whole thing. I don't give a shit. Serves Ted right for leaving the apartment looking like this while I was out of town.

  Mmmm. Oh god, It's so good. Sweet and tasty. Little warm though, but whatever, who cares? Oh, how I love the texture of rice pudding. The little individual grains of rice are so squishy when you bite into them. It adds that je ne sais quoi – that extra twist you just don’t get in other deserts. Mmmm, I fucking love rice pudding! Wait what? Ted left a note on the counter?

  Dude,

  Welcome back.

  I left the tapioca pudding out too long

  and now it's infested with maggots.

  Please throw it away.

  My bad.

  - Ted

  The Dweller

  S.R. Tooms

  Darkness surrounded him. He couldn’t remember where he was or where he’d been. Where light had once, mere moments ago, filtered about the expanse, blackness now consumed the world. And with the brightness went his memory. The young man remained frozen – as if unsure whether this sudden onset of shadows would last for but an instant or for all eternity. And just as all people do, it is best to convince oneself that the travesties of life are fleeting and brief. And so this is what he did; yet he did feel his head scrunch downward slightly like that of a turtle retreating into its shell. Only the lad didn’t possess a shell. He had no safe haven, no line of defense, no escape mechanism or plan of any sort. It was he and he alone in this onslaught of eerie night. An uncommon scenario for the boy and certainly not one he found himself prepared for. With a slow widening of his eyes, realizing this fact, here the first hinting of fear crept its sinister way into his waning courage. Yet strangely, an intense rage filled his heart; for he had been so close to victory, so near accomplishing his greatest feat, but now only bitter defeat loomed on the horizon.

  Thump. Thump-thump. Thump.

  He wondered why such shock and fear permeated the area. Turning the lights off isn’t scary, is it? Darkness is darkness no matter where you are, isn’t it? Why should this be any different? And yet it was. The more he tried persuading himself that everything was fine, that this rising nightmare was ok, the more his bravery evaporated. Why! he thought to himself as the young man spun halfway around in the dark. His left hand pawed at the air, reaching out for any sign of familiarity. But it just so happened that this was the very moment he understood why such an occurrence had brought about abject fear. Not only had he been cast into darkness, but now… silence. No longer could he hear the dull hummings or quiet whurrings. No voices. No chatter. Only the sound of his quickening heart beat and labored breathing.

  Thump. Thump-thump. Thump.

  It is frightening enough to find yourself shrouded in total darkness – but this idea is compounded all the more when you realize that you are in fact, alone. No one to help or assist. Nobody to cry out to or hold on to. Only you… you and this blanket of lightless fear. The young man, as many of us would, found himself wishing the moment would pass. Just hold on, he said aloud, just hold on and soon it will be back to normal! Idle beseechings to an unknown god. Yet as he stood there with one ear trained to the left, from whence a sound might have come from, the agony persisted. The scruffy haired and hapless lad considered calling out. To ask if anyone was there. To gain some comfort that he was not alone in this misery. He took a step forward – only to have the biggest toe of his foot collide with an unyielding protrusion of some sort. Ouch! the young man yelped, but then quickly hushed himself for concern that something or someone might be alerted to his presence. For although he did wish to find solace in another, the fear of what actually might lurk in the blackness dissuaded him from ever shouting bleak cries for help. The wound caused an increase in the throbbing, which had now become booming thuds, rocking his whole body with each beat.

  Thump. Thump-thump. Thump.

  He had come so far! So close! After so long! Why would the cruel fates tear him from justice and satisfaction, reducing him instead to this feeble minded, woeful runt. With one arm outstretched, the jittery fellow ambled along – moving his feet a bit more slowly this time. Ow! the young man shrieked again. There came a crunching from under his feet. Some small and jagged objects beneath the skin,
breaking and cracking under his weight. He pawed into the darkness, brushing against something quite solid. His fingers pressed into the cold material and for a second the young man thought he may have recognized the surface. But as he exerted more pressure, the seemingly sturdy thing gave way, beginning to wobble to and fro, before leaning out of reach and into the darkness – here there lingered a tense moment of uncertainty – followed by a bone-rattling crash (which caused the lad to jump several feet high).

  Thump! Thump! Thump!

  The young man gripped his chest, feeling as if he had just been publically humiliated. One of those instances where you stand perfectly still, praying that somehow no one witnessed the monumental blunder you’ve committed – despite the dozens of eyes all staring in your direction. That’s just how he felt. Frozen stiff, yet aware of unseen spectators peering back at him, hidden somewhere amidst the blackness. He knew they were there! Making no effort to disguise their condescending smirks and grins, as they circled round, moving ever closer to the unfortunate victim. Why wouldn’t the light return!? came his pitiable whimpering. Any little glimmer or shimmer to illuminate whatever might be near. Give him the tiniest of glimpses. That’s all he would need. A flash of luminosity. Put him on equal ground; show him the path out of here. And as he waited with breath held, there was no answer from above, no hand reaching down from the heavens to grant his sole request. Nothing. Only taunts from the faceless unknowns out there in the blackness.

  Thump. Thump. Thump, thump.

  Growing ever more frantic, the man-child was. With hands waving through the air and feet sliding along the ground, he resolved to make his way out, to find an escape from this hell. Every step or two he would feel his hand rub against something – causing him to jerk away in fear. Yet the young man would reach toward the object again, a bit more carefully this time; as the fingers desperately tried to paint the picture his eyes could not see, all the while hoping the image he perceived would not bring him harm or doom. Slide, slide, slide. The feet moving quicker now. They would bump mysterious things now and then – some times an object up to his knee, some times one to his ankle, some times one all the way up to his chest or higher than his head. Each one bringing a new fright or jolt of surprise no matter how many or how many times he encountered them. Here he felt something long and slender beneath his toes. The young man tapped outward with his foot, trying to judge the size. It appeared to be quite lengthy. As of a long finger or tentacle running along the ground, one which belonged to a monster of phenomenal proportions. He traced this tentacle-finger for perhaps three feet or more before coming to a halt… Just as the lad inched his leg forward yet again, there came a loud clangorous thump from somewhere above as if a giant had plopped its foot down in anger. Perhaps the lad had disturbed something, offset the fragile placements and awaken a beast of some horrible and grotesque variety.

  Thump. Thump. Thump, thump.

  Endless panic gripped the boy. Becoming reckless and rash, he darted forward! Smack! Another yelp of pain as he fell to the floor – holding his right shin which had just smashed into an immovable structure. The pain would not deter him. Give me a light! he whispered through gritted teeth and teary eyes. The young man trudged on, clawing and crawling along the floor. His fingernails digging into the strangely cushioned ground and its odd scent. Something old and musty. It made no difference in this dark whether he looked or not and so he held his eyes shut, blocking out whatever horrors might accost him. There again! He bumped into an unsteady object and not a second later something fell right beside his head, causing him to instinctively roll away from the danger. Yet this would not stop him either. There was no halting on – only a ceaseless wandering for relief, for an exit of some sort, for some semblance of hope in a world where none was to be found. The young man reached out once again, just as he done many times before scurrying along the ground, only this reach yielded a different result – for he felt yet another of the tentacle-fingers! Long and slender still! There was no attempt to trace or follow this object again. Not after the last incident. Who knows what it might awaken or alarm. Nothing seemed to have happened, but then… suddenly another disquieting thud sounded from above, sending a vibration throughout the entire chamber. He wondered how long it would be until the creature above made its way down to discover him. And in truth, the lad kind of wished this occurrence to happen. But when had he been so lucky as to receive even a single wish of his? Never. He crawled on and on, bumping and colliding, sobbing and whimpering. All sense of orientation had long been lost. He hadn’t a clue which way was left, which way was right, which way was up, or which way was down. Like an astronaut lost in the blackness of space, whirling around in circles; aimless and hopeless, left to the mercy of some uncaring power.

  Thump… Thump… Thump…

  With his will to live quickly fading, the boy made one last bid for freedom. He pulled together what little strength and courage remained in his body, rising to his feet, before leaping forward in what would be his final attempt. Smack! Again, he found himself crashing into some scattered bits of unknown debris as he fell to the floor, defeated… The boy toppled over backwards, rolling some feet to the rear. His head rested on floor – eyes staring into the bleakness. Those tiny crunching objects breaking beneath his head, becoming trapped in his hair. Then, for whatever reason, his left shoulder had been squashed against a wall during the fall and so to salvage any bit of comfort he could, the young man rolled once more and dropped his arms behind his head in despair. And that’s when he felt it. Something sharply angled. Could it be? He reached higher, feeling yet another one of these sharply angled formations. Despite such darkness, the ray of hope in his eyes seemed to light up the room as he rose to his knees and began ascending the rising formation. Hands and feet scrambling fast as he could. Unknown debris, rubbish of sorts, began falling all around him as he sent the unidentified objects into the air with each frenetic movement. The blur of motion causing these items to be knocked to and fro – landing somewhere below with a dull plop or clap or woosh.

  Thump! Thump! Thump, thump, thump!

  It seemed as if he had been here before. As if he had traversed this very path countless times. There was no longer any thinking, only reacting. As of a past memory coming to the forefront of his mind. The young man lurched forward when he neared the top (somehow knowing that this would be end). His hand pawed upward into the darkness, battling demons of night and terror, until locating some thin and cold item. He tugged with all his might… And at last there was light! Blessed light spilling into the expanse! The fellow cried out loud as he could, collapsing in his freedom and sanctuary. Gasping with fright and horror. There he stayed, quietly sobbing to himself. For he remembered his defeat and what the darkness had cost him. This room of light was little relief to his ailing woes… But, there quickly came the sound of footsteps approaching from his left.

  Thump…Thump… Thump…

  A voice pierced the silence, “What’s wrong?” it said, followed by a short pause before resuming, “Oh,” his mother laughed, “Were you down there in the dark this whole time? That’ll teach you to play video games all day and night! You should go out and get a job, you lazy basement dweller!”

  The Crime Scene

  Vincent V. Cava

  Just one month prior the grizzled old detective celebrated his thirtieth year on the force. In the three decades he had been working homicide, the veteran lawman investigated cases and arrested people for crimes that he never even fathomed possible; at least not until he had to write and deliver a fifteen-page report encasing the horrendous details of gruesome murders to his boss’ desk. It was the kind of job where every morning, as he headed out the house, cup of coffee in his hand and a folded up newspaper under his arm, he prayed that work would be as dull and mundane as possible. Those were the good days – the ones where nothing of importance happened and he could get home before his wife fell asleep so the two of them could drink tea and watch old episodes of Seinfe
ld on the couch together. This would not be one of those days.

  To any civilian spectator the scene would resemble that of absolute chaos. Ambulances and police cars were parked every which way all along the street facing off in arbitrary directions. A small army of officers formed a human wall around the area doing their best to hold back and mitigate the ever-growing crowd. Further down the block a cluster of news vans had assembled, each with a well coiffed reporter beside it, covering the spectacle as more and more details continued to leak.

  The detective ducked under a ribbon of police tape and made his way towards the group of EMTs attending to a man lying on a stretcher. He flashed a badge to the paramedics and they stepped aside, giving him a clear path to their patient.

  “Mister Charles Hopple?”

  The man had been casually chatting with the female paramedic holding a pack of ice to the side of his head. He turned an inquisitive eye towards the detective, “Yes? That’s me.”

  "Mr. Hopple, I’m with the police department. Would you care to explain what happened here tonight?"

  "Oh, why certainly officer! My wife Marcy and I had just sat down to dinner and –"