Happy Little Horrors: Freak Show

by David Reuben

  “Are you guys getting married?” I asked. “I’m cool with it. I’m sure Emily is, too.” I put my arm around Emily, and she pulled away.

  “No,” Mom said. “We’re not getting married. Bobby’s been married twice. I promised your father that I would never marry again.” It was my turn to roll my eyes. She didn’t owe that dead bastard anything. He deformed her daughter.

  “Then what is it?” I asked.

  The two of them exchanged another glance, trying to draw courage from each other. “I’m getting a little older,” Mom said, playing with her mouse brown hair. “I don’t know how long I have under the change of life gets me.”

  “What’s the change of life?” Emily asked, not looking up from her toy.

  “It’s a time when Mommies can’t be Mommies anymore,” Mom said, getting more nervous with every word. “I can still be your Mommy, but I can’t have another kid. My body kind of changes and doesn’t let me.”

  “Good,” Emily said. “I don’t want another baby in the house.”

  My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t even believe what my mother was suggesting. She wanted to get pregnant again, have Coach Robinson’s baby, but she didn’t want to marry the guy. A part of me wondered if it was because he was black, and then I remembered that the baby would be half-black.

  “Come on,” Coach Robinson said, “don’t you think it would be fun to have a little brother and little sister to play with?”

  “I already play with Zero,” Emily replied stubbornly. “When we play house, Zero is the baby. He even wears a diaper and talks baby talk.”

  I blushed deep crimson. Mom bought these awful, baggy white short shorts that she thought I could wear in public. I told them that I wouldn’t because they looked like diapers. Emily overhead and demanded I wear them whenever we played house.

  Emily’s hands were balled into fists, and her face turned white. She was on the verge of tears. “You need to act like a baby around Mom and Coach,” she commanded me. All I could do was stare at her in shock. “You need to show them that we don’t need another baby.” Her small fists pounded against the armrest of the couch. “If they bring home another baby, I’ll never forgive you, Zero. It’ll be your fault.”

  “I’m sure that you will like having a little sister,” Mom prompted, trying to sit next to Emily. “You could play dress up and have tea parties. You girls could be princesses together. Your brother can put on sword and rescue you both.”

  “Actually,” I added nervously. “I don’t rescue her. We play prince-in-distress. Emily rescues me from harpies, sea serpents, and dragons using her fairy wands.” Coach Robinson raised an eyebrow, barely containing his laughter.

  “See, honey,” Mom said, stroking my sister’s hair and trying to hide her nervousness behind a wide smile, “it’s all going to be all right.”

  I never saw my sister’s eyes look so cold. “No, I won’t,” she said, storming back to the room. Before slamming her door, she screamed down to my parents. “It’s obvious that you don’t care what I want!”

  ***

  Emily didn’t leave her room until long after Mom and Coach Robinson left. It didn’t surprise me that she still carried around Canasta. At least, she wasn’t hugging the disgusting thing to her chest anymore.

  “Do you want to play house?” she asked. I started to answer her, but she disappeared back her room before I got a chance to open my mouth.

  I climbed the stairs and discovered my little sister sitting on her bed and tapping her foot impatiently. “I thought that you wanted to play with me,” she said. “I thought you wanted to play house.” She crossed her arms, her brow furling. She was wearing one of my mom’s skirts and it pooled beneath her.

  “You know,” I said, “you really need to check your attitude.”

  Emily turned away from me. “Fine,” she said. “If you don’t want to play with me, just say so.” She started to slam the door, but I put my foot in the door. Emily showed surprising strength for her size.

  “Give me a second,” I said. “I’ll be the baby.”

  Emily casually walked away and grabbed Canasta. “It’s about time. Go be a good baby and get your diaper on.”

  Something rather primal seemed to be bothering my little sister. I wasn’t a counselor, so I had no idea how to make her talk. I was pretty sure that I could get her to reveal why she was so dead against a little brother or sister with this game.

  By the time I came back properly attired, Emily had changed her room around. She managed to pull all of her baby toys from the top of the closet, and she rescued the refrigerator box from the trash. “What’s with the box?” I asked.

  Emily rolled her eyes. “It’s your crib,” she said. “Get in your crib.” I shrugged and tried to make myself fit. My legs dangled over. Something stabbed in my back. I was surprised to discover Canasta in the crib.

  “Have you given me a toy?” I said in my baby falsetto.

  Emily laughed. “No,” she said. “Canasta is a bear, and bears hate babies. I put him in there, so that he would eat the baby.”

  I jumped out of the box and sat down on the bed next to her. “That’s not funny, Emily,” I told her, trying to sound parental. “You shouldn’t say things like that. People will think that you are being serious.”

  Emily fished Canasta out of the box. “I am being serious. I put Canasta in there to eat the baby.” She threw the bear against the wall. “It’s just a stupid bear. He won’t eat the baby.” Her eyebrows narrowed, and I felt my heart skip around. My flesh felt cold. “Will you help me kill the baby, Zero?”

  “That’s really not funny,” I said, really wishing that her counselor worked on Saturday nights. I was way out of my league. I thought about going downstairs and trying to get ahold of Mom on the house phone.

  “Do you know what’s really not funny?” Emily said, her face turning crimson from anger. “You made me throw Canasta. You are a bad baby, Zero. A very bad baby. I should spank you.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Mom never spanked us. I guessed someone at school was being spanked. It’s the only way I could way that Emily could even know what a spanking was.

  I ran back to my room and pulled on a pair of jeans. I didn’t even bother taking those uncomfortable shorts off. Emily needed to know that I wasn’t playing anymore.

  “What is wrong with you?” I asked, still threading my belt through the loops. I didn’t want to leave her alone too long. “Why are you talking like that?”

  Emily ignored me at first. She sat on her bed, rocking Canasta back and forth. She kept rubbing his scarred face against hers. “Do you ever think that Daddy would still be alive if you were a better kid?”

  I swallowed, feeling angry that Mom and Coach Robinson were off at some hotel making babies while I was forced to deal with a seven year old existential crisis. “No,” I said. “Dad had a problem. There was nothing we could do to help him. He had to help himself.” I shrugged. “He just didn’t chose to.”

  Emily gave me a confused look, and I realized I probably just said something stupid. “I know that I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “You were the reason that he drank. He said that you were always getting in trouble.”

  “Dad said some stupid things,” I said.

  “I have horrible thoughts sometimes,” she said. “Sometimes, I wish that you died. If you died, Daddy would still be alive. You were such a horrible little boy. You made him drink.” She screamed at me, a terrifying inhuman sound. “You killed him! You killed him! I hate you! Why didn’t you kill yourself! We could have been a happy family!”

  Something inside me broke. I grabbed Canasta, despite the screams and scratches from my little sister. I started to climb down the stairs. Emily grabbed me by the leg and bit into me. I ignored the sudden stab of pain, so she pounded at my crotch until I fell down.

  “You ruin everything!” she screamed. “If you were a better baby, Mommy and Coach wouldn’t want another kid.” She grabbed Canasta from me, as I held
my stomach and tried not to puke. She started beating me with the stuffed bear. The head was surprisingly hard and it hit me like a cannonball. “I hate you! Mommy hates you! Coach hates you! Canasta hates you! Why don’t you make us all happy and die!”

  I started crying. Logic evaded me. I couldn’t believe that my little sister loathed me so much. It made sense that I was the problem. After all, Emily barely ever got in trouble. I was the one grounded for two weeks.

  Emily wandered off. I slowly made my way to my feet, tears forming a veil and making it difficult to see. I didn’t realize that my little sister had a knife until she stabbed it in my pelvis. The blade hit bone, and agony raced down my legs and up my test. I let go of the contents of my stomach.

  It didn’t matter that she was my little sister anymore, a seven year old girl. I punched her square in the jaw. She dropped a second knife and started crying. She held Canasta with a vise grip, rubbing scars.

  My mouth dropped open in horror when I realized why Canasta hurt so much. Some of the fur had rubbed off in the skirmish, revealing bone. I snatched it from my sister and pulled more of the fur off, revealing a baby skull.

  “Give him back to me!” Emily demanded. “He’s mine. I love him. Give him back to me, or I cut off your balls!” She retrieved the knife that was stuck in my bone. All of my nerves erupted in pain as I stumbled off before she could stab me a second time. “You killed my daddy!” she screamed, her face barely looking human as it twisted with rage. “I won’t let you kill Canasta!”

  She couldn’t stop me, even when she stabbed me in the back of the leg. I turned on the burner, and melted the disgusting ratted fur off the loathsome thing, revealing the skeleton underneath. I kicked my sister back as I smashed the skeleton with a meat tenderizer. She stabbed me one last time. The blade pierced my left foot.

  When Canasta was nothing but chunks of bone, Emily leaned down and cried. It wasn’t a little girl’s cry. It was the sound a madwoman howling in agony. It scared me almost as much as the cuts from the kitchen knife.

  “Why are you bleeding?” Emily asked, running to get me a band aid. “Did you cut yourself making dinner, Zero?”

  ***

  I called my mom and 911, but I didn’t know what to say to anything. “Something happened with my little sister, Emily,” I said, hoping that was all the information needed to send an ambulance. “She doesn’t remember what happened.” I took a deep breath. “She cut me up with a butcher knife.” I hung up the phone. I knew that they could trace the call, and I needed a better answer other than my sister was possessed by an evil doll. I supposed that I could show them what remained of Canasta bones and mention “Great Uncle Jerome” who was a crazy, old man with a really disturbing hobby.

  Before the police arrived, I heard a frantic pounding on the door. Before I could stop her, Emily opened the door. She screamed and fell back. I tried to stumble out to help her, but I had very little energy back.

  The old man’s pajamas were once red, but they were stained brown from excrement. Blood ran down his face. The madman had taken a razor blade and cut Canasta’s scars on to his face. He carried the dripping razor blade in his right hand, and a hatchet in his left. He threw down the razor, so he could get a better grip at his preferred weapon.

  “Give me back my teddy bear!” Great Uncle Jerome yelled, saliva oozing from his mouth and joining the various other stains on his pajama shirt. “I’m the only one who will ever love Canasta! He’s my bear! He loves me! Not you!”

  Emily panicked, unable to breathe. She wasn’t looking at the madman with a hatchet, but something behind me. My eyes trailed back as I pulled her away from Great Uncle Jerome. The blade missed us, but the handle slammed into my arm. Emily and I were screaming, as I fell down.

  “I knew you loved me,” Great Uncle Jerome said, dropping his axe.

  “That’s impossible,” Emily said. “You cannot ... you cannot ... you can’t ... it’s not ... it’s not ... I don’t ... ” Emily looked dizzy, holding her head as her blue eyes rolled. I wasn’t surprised when she fainted.

  Canasta walked bowlegged toward his true master, ignoring Emily. The stuffed bear still smelled like smoke, but there was no indication of the damage it took from the fire or meat tenderizer. It still had its trademark scars. Canasta smiled at me, revealing the baby skull beneath the ratted fur.

  “You were fun to play with, Zero,” Canasta said. “We will play again.”

  TRAIN STUCK

  By Steven G. Bynum

  It was late Sunday night and Jeff had been waiting at the train station for nearly an hour. His train was scheduled to leave at midnight and it was yet to arrive. He was feeling anxious, like something was not right. Instead of listening to his inner alarm, he decided to wait a while longer.

  "Where the Hell is that damn train!" Jeff irritated, shouted to the air. "I tell ya, whoever is responsible for it not being here on time, I hope they die!"

  Jeff glimpsed something in his peripheral vision which caused him to turn to his left. Nothing was there but an old newspaper flying in the wind. He laughed off his minor fright. He didn't like this time of night. It always seemed like the time when bad things come out and evil plays.

  The wind was not helping his nerves. At times, he could swear he heard whispers. He was very much considering going back to the hotel and rescheduling despite whether or not it would make him late for the business meeting. A business meeting that was quickly becoming not important any longer.

  "Come on, Jesus Christ!" Jeff shouted, as he kicked a tin can that the wind had blown next to him.

  Seemingly, his prayer had been answered when a train horn began blaring in the distance. It had an odd sound to it, like it was muffled, but Jeff paid no attention. He was elated that the train was nearing. Soon, he would be away from this wind that was continually sending chills up his spine.

  Jeff could see the train's light coming closer. It was flickering off and on, which seemed odd, but he figured it was just a wiring problem. Nothing was ever kept in perfect condition these days. It was still supposedly safer to travel by train then flying in an airplane. Jeff did not enjoy flying in an airplane.

  The train arrived with brakes screeching so loud, Jeff had to cover his ears. The shrill sound nearly caused him to pee in his pants. Even though the train had arrived, Jeff wasn't sure he wanted to board that old broken down relic that was somehow still in service. He was going to write someone about this when he got the chance.

  Eventually, the train came to a stop with a passenger coach directly in front of Jeff. The door slide open and Jeff waited for the conductor to come out and tell him to board. He waited nearly ten minutes, yet there was no conductor to be seen. He tapped his foot uncontrollably. His patience was already thin, but now he was about to become irate.

  "Hello? Anyone there? Conductor? Hey, are you fucking there?" Jeff yelled at the open train door. "I'm waiting!"

  Jeff could not take it anymore. He stormed on to the train, ready to give someone a piece of his mind. No one was there. No conductor, no passenger, no one. The door closed behind him, causing him to jump. There on the ground lay his luggage. Try as he might, he could not get the door open.

  "Hey! Hey! Open this damn door! I left my luggage! Hey!"

  Jeff moved throughout the passenger coach looking for someone to help him. He yelled and he fussed, but no conductor ever showed. He continued yelling all the while the train began moving. There was nothing he could do at this point.

  Defeated, Jeff sat down in a seat. He held his head in his hands for several minutes. How could this be happening? Today went so well. Tonight has been terrible. Maybe midnight is the witching hour after all.

  The lights in the passenger coach flickered and Jeff thought he saw people lying all around, bloody and dead. He jumped up out of the seat, trembling from head to toe. They were gone, nothing to be seen. Did he just have a hallucination? His mind had to be playing a trick on him. No, they were there. He was sure he saw the bodies.<
br />
  Jeff ran to the nearest gangway door. It was locked. He pounded on it steadily, calling for help. Stepping back, he kicked it several times until he hurt his ankle. He limped over to a seat and sat down. There was no reason for the gangway to be locked. "OH, I am going to sue the Hell out of someone!"

  Jeff could not remain in the seat any longer. He jumped up and limped towards the opposite gangway door. Almost there, he tripped over something. He was laying on top of the corpse of an old lady. Her throat had been ripped open and her eyes were bugging out of the sockets. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound would escape. Quickly, Jeff backed away from the corpse, his eyes wide open with fear.

  The lights in the passenger coach flickered. The people were there again lying in pools of blood. The floor, the seats, and the ceiling were all red. Jeff discovered he was covered in blood as well. His clothing was soaked and his hands were dripping red. All he could do was sit there and scream at the top of his lungs.

  Jeff was sweating bullets by the time he noticed the large butcher knife in his hand. He jumped off the floor and tossed the knife away from him. "What the Hell is going on?" He shouted. He stumbled about feeling dizzy. Jeff's pulse was racing and he felt like he was going to pass out.

  Everything came back to him at that moment. How he had boarded the passenger coach six years ago. The ecstasy of the slaughter. Using the butcher knife to stab and cut other passengers to pieces. Tossing severed body parts all around in glee. The blood he tasted and smeared all over himself.

  A plain cloths police officer appeared out of the gangway from the adjoining coach. "Hold it right there!" The officer shouted, with his pistol aimed directly at Jeff. There was no time for Jeff to respond. Bullets struck Jeff in the chest and in the head.

  Jeff was again waiting at the train station late Sunday night.