The Doorway
Page 22
The dead had failed to live up to their full potential in the previous attacks against the living in both Kansas and Chicago. Playing the ghost-possessed movie reels and unleashing B-movie villains on unsuspecting mankind wasn’t enough. They needed a solid plan. Darlene, in the body of the vampire from Morgue Vampire Tramps Find Temptation at the Funeral Hall, stood in the kitchen of the Langley household. She left Jules at the theatre, after giving him the fucking of a lifetime. He was still passed out in the theatre, the sad, sad man. Jules would be hers to control. And how she’d use him in the coming months.
Darlene had ripped the heads off of Mr. and Mrs. Langley, a retired couple, and placed their bleeding heads on two stovetop coils in the kitchen. Decapitating calmed Darlene. Shedding blood reminded her their plan to kill every last living person in the universe would succeed this time. The other vampire tramps, the five of them, waited in the living room for Darlene’s next instructions. The group craved to slaughter everybody in sight, but if they did that now, somebody would stop them again like the other two times.
So what to do this time?
They needed a plan for war.
Full-scale style.
Every living person would die and join the dead in their eternal suffering. But Darlene couldn’t perpetrate this on her own. She clutched a set of reels in her hands. They were stolen from Jules’s private collection from his house two blocks from the Langleys’. On the steel canister label, it read Mr. Ratchet’s Morbid Theatre of Death. Darlene asked the vampires to set up the film projector in the living room, which was also stolen from Jules’s house, and they played the first reel. If Mr. Ratchet couldn’t help her, Darlene wasn’t sure what to do. But if she was correct about this movie and its potential, the solution to her problems was Mr. Ratchet himself.
Five minutes into the feature, fog unrolled from the hallways of the Langley household. The foundation creaked, as if the whole house could collapse at any moment. Blood trickled down the walls, gushing in wicked torrents. The sound of screams echoed from beyond the afterlife from upstairs and down. Boiling water from cauldrons stirring poisons and curses, and on top of that, crypts being opened and closed, of dead feet pattering the floor, of infernal moans of pain and pleasure. The house was active with morbid emanations.
Then the walls stopped bleeding. The carpet tore in large sections. Chunks of wood exploded. From the floor sprouted movie projector after movie projector, spinning with movie reels. Twenty different projectors were going at once. From the hallway, out of the thick fog, arrived Mr. Ratchet. He was a white haired old man in a cheap silver suit, big red bow tie, fancy black shoes and the biggest smile.
Mr. Ratchet greeted the vampires. “Welcome to my morbid theatre of death, ladies.”
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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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The Doorway
Copyright © 2015 by Alan Spencer
ISBN: 978-1-61922-593-0
Edited by Don D’Auria
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First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: August 2015
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