Their sheer numbers pushed me farther from my brothers as they too spread apart to keep up with the rampage. Sweat gathered on my brows as my heart jumped in my chest. If we don’t end this soon, we will be no match against them.
As if they heard my thoughts, the attack slowed, more warriors came to stand around me as my ammo ran out. The ceasing of gunfire let me know that Craig too had run out. Panic seared through me like lightning, threatening to burst my chest open. I held my knife out, dropping the now useless bow to the ground.
In a flash, one faery grabbed the hand holding the knife, squeezing hard enough for me to yelp out and drop it. He moved in a blur as he twisted my arm painfully around my back and held it tight. Unable to break free, he shoved me forward, deeper into the forest and away from the calls of my brothers. The pain in my arm seared through me, making my eyes tear up as I stumbled under his impatient shoving. When we approached a clearing, he shoved me down to the floor where I struggled to get back on my feet, rocks and mulch scraping my hands. Looking up, my eyes rested on another faery that stood staring down at me intently.
“Let me go!” I yelled. The still face remained unmoving, boring down into mine. I tried my best to look away; knowing that to stare back into the bright yellow glow of faery eyes was to become a prisoner of Faerie itself. I pulled my gaze away, tears spilling down my cheeks as I stared at the ground.
“Please, don’t hurt my brothers. I’ll go with you, but please, don’t hurt them. Let them go.” My voice quivered as my body shook, exhaustion and terror crawled over me, threatening to collapse the last bit of strength left inside me. Looking back up, I waited, studying his features, which were similar to the rest of their kind. The only difference was a twisted crown of wood and vines sitting on his head. His eyes glared at me, seemingly sucking my soul out into them as the world swam around me. I could hear but a whisper in my head as he agreed with my terms. Reaching out, he touched my cheek.
A blazing burn ran from his touch down my neck and set my body writhing in pain. It seared through my bones like a raging inferno until a moment later when it receded slowly. Lying on the ground, I blinked back into consciousness. Slowly getting up, I stood and stared at the woodland Faery king. He nodded, turning back towards the forest and motioning me to follow. Glancing down at my hands, I realized the same leafy green texture of their own now tattooed my skin.
Reaching up, I touched the twisted twigs and vines that now was my hair and felt the mossy softness of the soft grassy dress that replaced my cargo pants and shirt. Gulping, I watched the faeries retreat behind their king. I turned and saw my brother Jay tied to a tree, watching in terror.
“Oh, Amy, no, don’t go with them, no, no, no.” His head bled a deep scarlet where he had sustained a hit. Craig lay on the ground near him, knocked out but breathing.
Relieved to see them alive, as the king had promised, I smiled to my brother, whispering I love you guys into his mind. Turning away and ignoring his pleading, I walked with the procession of retreating faeries and knew I would never see my brothers again.
Breakdown
by
Bonnie Bernard
It was easy to see her hair, so that’s what he noticed first. Cobalt blue strands, flashing against the scorching sun and catching the desert breeze. Then he got closer and saw her hat. Oversized and cowboy. The boots caught his gaze next. White and sexy against those tight, black pants. But the cropped t-shirt got him most. Red, with black letters:
667…One Step Beyond Ordinary Evil.
She stood alone in the sizzling center of Nevada-nowhere, a purple backpack propped against her knee and her hitching thumb extended. He slowed. Then he stopped. That’s when he saw the red gem glistening in her belly button, and the matching one in her nose. There was eyebrow jewelry too, and tattoos. An angel on her left bicep and a devil on the right. From a distance, the ink-work had looked like mud, or maybe car grease. She stood by a red, 1964 International truck with its hood popped, so the grease would have made sense, but upon seeing her up close, the tattoos did too.
He shut down the Harley’s engine, motioned toward the International. “Your old beast broke down, huh?”
She raised the pierced eyebrow, making its red gem twinkle against late afternoon sunlight. “No, my spaceship caught fire and crash-landed about a mile from here.”
He looked down at his gas tank, hoping the red on his face could be blamed on sunburn.
She stuffed the backpack over her left shoulder. “So, you gonna give me a ride, or not?”
“I don’t have an extra helmet.”
She shrugged.
“Want mine?” he pointed at it.
She shrugged again. He took it off and gave it to her, hoping the cops would spare him a ticket when he relayed the Good Samaritan story.
“Sorry about the sticker,” he pointed to the helmet’s left side. “It’s supposed to be funny, but most girls don’t see it that way.”
She read it, smirked. “Good one.” Then she put on the helmet. He grinned, because it was always nice to meet up with one of the few girls who got the joke.
“I’m Ryan.” He offered his hand for her to shake. She smirked again and straddled the bike.
“I’m hungry. Know any place that has Chinese?”
“I know we’re about fifteen miles out of a place that probably does.” He started the engine and off they went; two perfect strangers riding into the sunset at the end of a scorching summer day. He was exhausted from riding and she was cute as hell in the helmet that read: 10% of women are battered, but I still like to eat mine plain.
They wound up at a dive motel behind the town’s only Chinese restaurant. Every time they opened the room’s door, stale air blew in, and so did the stink of rancid frying oil and sweltering asphalt. After a romp in the bed between sheets that felt like sandpaper, he took his phone and walked to the Chinese place for a number 3 and broccoli beef. While he was gone, she showered and slipped into a short black skirt with a matching skinny camisole. By the time he returned from his errand, the contents of her backpack were scattered about the motel room floor. He observed several changes of clothes, all of them stimulating. She didn’t seem to own a stitch of underwear.
They ate with chopsticks, watched an old WWII movie and she asked questions he couldn’t answer like, “What was Hitler’s middle name?” She leaned against the headboard and watched the TV with an intensity he’d never seen before in a woman when it came to war movies.
Dessert was fortune cookies and another romp, but this time it was on the dresser. He decided it was maybe a good idea to never again set down his burger and fries on motel furniture.
“Prepare for tomorrow, today.” She chuckled. “What’s your fortune say?”
“A change of head begins with a change of heart.” He smiled at her and winked.
She smiled back. “Ready for round three?”
***
Spikes of morning sunlight pushed through an opening between the curtains. He groaned, stretched, and pushed the sheets down with his feet. Her itty-bitty clothes, big cowboy hat, and purple backpack were gone. He’d never been with a blue-haired girl before and figured he never would again, so for a moment, melancholy crept into his consciousness. But by the time he smacked the key-card on the dresser and shut the door behind him, his thoughts were on what to do next. He’d only lied a little bit. The bike didn’t break down and he wasn’t two hundred miles from home, which meant he had an hour to kill before riding home to his wife in Reno. He’d never done this before, was unlikely to ever do it again, and decided admitting to it would cause irreparable damage to an otherwise stable marriage. So he relaxed in the sticky, beige vinyl seat at the “Pancake House and BBQ Grill”, slurping black coffee and shoveling in scrambled eggs with bacon. Outside the plate glass window, a truck from “A and B Towing” crawled by. A red, 64 International was chained under the front bumper, like a fish on a hook. Good, he thought. She’s got it under control. Though he knew nothi
ng about her, including her last name (her first name was Shawna…or was it Samantha?) he thought those deviant tattoos and unexpected piercings covered over a real sweet girl. Lucky for her she’d met up with him. Nevada wasn’t generally known for its savory types. He set down the coffee cup and rubbed his temples. His head ached a bit, even though there had barely been any alcohol involved last night.
Shawna - or was it Shelly this time around? - she could hardly keep track anymore, sprinted like wildfire across the desert, to a nearby hill. Tucked behind it, a small craft waited. It looked like a common glider plane, but it wasn’t, and the team would arrive soon to repair the burned out engine. Then she’d be on her way. The broken down truck had just been a lucky break. Some old guy came back this morning to have it carted off. It had sure made her look authentic, though. And the boss would be pleased to hear she’d scored another human incubator. His head should be aching right about now and when the birth process kicked in sometime tomorrow morning, all he’d know would be a sudden urge for mass murder followed by suicide by fire…it was best to leave no trace of the vessel.
Bryan - or was it Ryan? - had been her fortieth incubator. She was kicking ass over the rest of the crew, who jealously insisted she was cheating. She wasn’t. She just wanted to earn special recognition and privilege when the blue planet became all theirs.
Ouija’ust Wanted To Have Fun
by
Dominique Goodall
None of us could have been expected to realize that we were making a mistake. We were young and it wasn’t exactly like we knew what we were doing when we all sat around in a group, our fingers touching a glass in the middle of a board. Someone screamed when the glass moved, though I had my mind set on the fact that it couldn’t be happening, not really. When the glass moved to the letters I, C, A and N – even I had to start panicking. There wasn’t any reason for one of us to scare anyone else…we were just young and trying to have fun.
When I heard Krystal scream, I followed suit. She was my sister as well as my best friend – and if she was scared well…that meant there was a reason to. She was sat to my right and Sara to my left, while Tony and Edward were sat across from us. It had been Edward’s idea to come to the old abandoned De’Morte house and do an Ouija board. We had all agreed with him, buoyed up with false bravado and stolen gulps of cider. Krystal had been the only one of us to complain, but I had urged and blackmailed her into coming along, not wanting to be left alone with Tony and Edward.
I heard crying from in front of me when the glass moved again to the letters S, E, E and then paused, as though taking a breath. I tried to remove my finger, but couldn’t, though my hesitation seemed to urge whatever was directing the glass onwards, giving it energy to complete what was being spelt out. Y, O and U completed the selection of words with the glass going to the middle of the board, no longer touching any other letters. This paused us for a moment, before we actually realized that this could only have left us with only one thought on our minds, that someone, or something had clearly just had us spelling out ‘I can see you.’ The fact that Tony was crying scared me. He was the leader of our group. The reckless one, the one we ran to when we couldn’t do something dangerous - here he was sniffling and crying like he had just watched someone he loved die.
When a door slammed, we all jumped out of our skins, and I wasn’t the only one to scream, at least one of the others screamed with me. My heart was thumping, was all I could hear before doors began to slam open and shut without a wind to cause them, making us all jump, cringe, cry or as I did – scream until our throats were hoarse. A silence fell suddenly, before the glass started to move without us even touching it, the movement catching our eyes and drawing our heads down in horrified fascination. Words formed where before we’d had to piece together the letters into small sentences. ‘I will find you. I will get you. I will take you. You are mine.’
Krystal was whimpering beside me at this point – and I definitely wasn’t telling her to shut up, especially not when I felt like joining her. All I could do was put my arm over her shoulders, and cuddle against her, she may have been the older sister, but I was definitely the braver one of us, the one most likely to go along with what Tony said or urged us to do. I sat there, cuddling Krystal against myself before jumping when Sara spoke.
“I’ve heard that you can use salt to protect from things like this. Did anyone else think to bring any? I only have a few little sachets.” When we all wordlessly shook our heads, she huffed before sighing, and closed her eyes, putting on her thinking face – that she was angry was something she liked to make very clear.
Edward was the next to speak, and the sound of his voice had Sara snapping her eyes open.
“My sister told me that white candles are meant to bring only good spirits in. I thought she was joking, but I do have a candle in my bag. I could only find one, but it’s white. I don’t know if that’ll help?” I sat there myself, trying to rake through the chaos that was my memory. I was so sure that I remembered something, but Tony speaking ruined it for me, made me forget what was planning on my mind and lingering on the top of my tongue.
“Sage is what we need. I have a little in my pocket. I didn’t want to come without something…just in case.”
I sat there, feeling like an idiot until I heard Krystal clear her throat and look at me. It was only when I returned her gaze that she spoke with a gentle smile that made me relax just a little.
“There are prayers you can say, to help drive away bad presences and to ensure protection. I know them, and can coach Dominique in them while we prepare. Surely we can all use what we have to do something?”
When I looked at her, she smiled briefly, though we both cringed as the glass scraped against the board and drew our attention back to it. ‘Your plans are fruitless. Nothing will get rid of me. You are mine. Mine! You are mine to devour. Only mine to scare and scar and feast and feed on.’ Whatever was controlling the glass was certainly not benign in nature.
After the glass stopped moving, everyone started arguing around me. I could feel the pressure in the air gathering above me, making me cringe just a little as everyone’s words ran together on a never ending reel of film. Harsh voices and mean faces ran in front of my eyes.
“My salt will do the job!”
“No, a candle, we don’t need stupid salt to do anything!”
“Will you just burn the sage?! That’s what Google told me to do!” I was shocked when my sister stood up, Krystal didn’t normally force her opinion on anyone, but here she was, just doing that!
“I’m sure the prayers would keep us safe, so we can get out of this house!” The argument carried on, rolling and rocking back and forth like we were on a boat, in stormy seas, leaving me getting more and more tense until I sat up and just screamed, letting lose all the frustration, fear and anger I was feeling in that moment.
“Everyone, can’t you just stop?! Just stop it! Please! We can’t all fight like this. We’re going to end up doing what that thing wants us to!”
When my voice finished ringing through the room, everyone went silent, turning to look at me with shock in their eyes. I’d never ever been this loud before, because although I was brave, I didn’t shout scream or rage at anyone normally. Edward went quiet first, sticking his hands in his jacket pocket and nodded silently at me when my eyes hit his face. One by one everyone else nodded, and I stepped forward into the guise of leader. Tony was too shaken to be the fearless leader we needed him to be, so who else could have done it?
“Sara, get the salt please. Edward, Tony. You need to get the candle and sage. I have a plan. If you come here Krystal, then I can learn what you meant by these prayers.”
The glass was sliding sluggishly back and forth between the letters H and A repeatedly, a clearly mocking tone that was lacking in energy as we redirected our fear and focus elsewhere. When Edward lit the white candle, and then started to burn the sage smudge stick, the glass faltered in its movements, now moving to
the word NO on the right-hand side of the board. Again and again it moved towards that word, and the snippet of what I remembered was suddenly hooked on a sweeping, search line. I left Krystal beginning to recite a prayer to the Goddess (something stronger to us than the prayers to God and Jesus, as we are a pagan family) and Sara making a thin, but complete circle of salt around the table.
I put my finger on the glass, and began a battle of wills. Mine must have been stronger as I moved the glass to the word Goodbye, hopefully sending whatever spirit had tormented and frightened us away from the space we were purifying and back to whatever hellhole it had come from. I didn’t leave it there; I grabbed the glass and threw it out of our circle, listening to the satisfying smash of glass and then the sudden silence that came over the house. It was peaceful now, no longer haunted with malignant and evil beings of anyone’s imagination.
We began to recite the prayer, our voices reaching out in shocking crescendo, the words almost sung, and the magical pitch of the invocation unmistakable.
“I am a witch of ancient lore,
I petition these trees, and forest floor.
Converge myself upon this site,
spider weaving, power and might.
Air and Fire, Water and Earth,
aid in my quest, I call you forth.
Aradia, Aradia, I intone,
thrice the power you have shone.
Open my spiral of strength and sorcery,
encompass the soul, you have granted me.
Pentacle of old, stones of deep,
protection around, assistance I seek.
Marry my veins, to this Earth,
Cernunno's I summon you forth.
Steel needles and pins,
red blood of sins.
Buried deep in clandestine dusk,
Dark Light Page 18
