by J.P. Hunt
A moment please if you will my little whelps. A quick moment to make a brief note. The king and I have been discussing things as you read and we have come to a startling conclusion! It appears that we in fact have many stories deemed to be true! True moments of unbelievable moments in terror told to us by the many denizens of the kingdom. So we decided to add a couple in this issue beginning with...
When The Dead Walk
Editors note: This is a story about the dead. About one man who faced them. Our contributor says it is a true story. But weather you believe it is or not is truly up to you to decide. Although please don’t discredit that which you are unsure of, they have a habit of proving themselves in the end.
Don’t cry. I say don’t cry because it will do no good. The day of reckoning you say? No, but I have wondered that myself at times. After all, what other time is the dead professed to walk. If it scares you I believe it should. I know I am. As I sit here within the confines of my safe home, I see them passing by the window. The many corpses of both friends and strangers. I saw many go in my lifetime, and they were sad days. But I never dreamed of seeing them again, especially not this way. One day in heaven perhaps but not shambling zombies wandering among the living.
My wife sits outside the doorway. She left me five years ago to join our sons in another world. But her soul less body now slumps just outside the door. Two hours ago she came pounding. She stood rapping and crying, waking me from a dream. Her voice sent me out of bed and to the floor faster than I believed my old bones could go! Looking out the window I cried with joy at the radiant beauty of the woman I loved. I threw open the door and was stopped aghast at the horrid creature that stood before me. If she had come to me in any other way I would have greeted her with embraces and kisses. Instead I quickly came to my senses and slammed the and door quickly drew the locks as fast as my old shaky hands could do them. She’d only stopped pounding roughly ten minutes ago. My sons have joined her now on the porch they all sat. Three lifeless bodies somehow animated. It was hard to pass judgment on what I saw....
...and did not believe. The pounding on the door has begun again and my poor old heart is beating so. I find myself torn between those that I love and the unmistakable reality and terror of what they are now. I want to hold them ago so badly. I don’t know what scares me more. The horror of what I see, or the fact that I am so blanched by that horror that I can not except them unto myself.
The dead continue to walk, dropping appendages, skin and clots of dirt onto the ground as they travel. I see that other family members are also awake. Perhaps they to are afraid to leave the assured safety of their homes. Perhaps they to are afraid to reach out to there love ones.
A window shatters. The big picture window that my wife always cherished. I see one of the boys has done it. A re-enactment of something that happened long ago. The image of a ten-year-old enters my mind as he steps through the broken pain of glass. Sheepish grin and baleful eyes. A smile crosses mine as I turn to beckon him to me so I could hold him, embrace him like I so dearly wanted. He comes to me but as he steps closer the image falls away and I see him as he really is. The infested and rotting corpse of my child long dead. I turn weakly, and run.
And now a brief interlude: A simple sonnet created with love and dedicated to you, faithful reader. Read and be reaped! So please consider this your open visitation. Unfortunately the tickets one way but we’re certain you’ll soon be too insane to know which way that is! Just step this way my pretties and...
Walk With Me
Step this way and take my hand, Walk with me
If you fear don’t cry
Tears will do you little good
All is fear! Can you feel it?
Step this way
Here we walk down a dark deserted alley
See that star? No?
That’s because it isn’t there!
There are no stars in death!
Do you fear death? No? Well you really should
What awaits you after life?
Do you wonder? Do you worry? Do you fear it?
Take my hand
Do you feel the cold bone?
I have no skin for I am the bare and simple you
That which is you fears
Come walk with me, if you dare
Are you evil? What would you do to succeed? Think for a moment, how many would you stab in the back to get what you want? Let’s ask our protagonist in this next true story as our mystery writer guest takes us into Part One of...
The Dream
It began for me that summer day, walking through the small behind my good friend’s summer home in the mountains. It was a beautiful day with the sun shining brightly and a light breeze blowing the leaves of the trees so that they shimmered brightly in the sun. I strolled slowly through the wood, enjoying the beauty and freshness of unspoiled nature, until my foot tangled in a root. I pitched forward onto the ground, my head struck a rock, and I lost consciousness.
I opened my eyes in darkness, staring up into a starlit sky. My head throbbed and I had a feeling of nausea in my stomach. Was it possible I had been unconscious during the entire day? Surely I had been missed at the cabin and they were searching for me, but how was it that I had not yet been found? The cabin was only a few hundred yards away.
Unconsciously I reached my hand to the pain in my head and found my hair wet and sticky with matted blood. It was badly cut. I tried to rise but found my arms were lifeless, my legs weak. I collapsed back to the earth and slept.
I thought I had slept for a long time, but when I awoke I found it was still dark. The pain still throbbed in my head but the nausea was gone. I tested my limbs and found they had strength so I attempted to stand. No sooner had I reached my feet than a wave of dizziness came over me and I stumbled, striking a hard upright object I took to be a tree. I stood there shaking, the wave of dizziness passed and I discovered what had blocked my fall was not wood, but rock! A vague feeling of discomfort came to my mind. There had been no rock when I fell! I felt along it with my hands, not daring to move the rest of my body. It was a solid wall of rock, extending beyond my reach on either side, The feeling of discomfort changed into undeniable terror.
Where was I? Was I not in a wood, and a small one at that? How did this wall of rock come to be here? These and many other questions raced through my mind. “Help me!” But the words only came back in forlorn echoes.
I started walking along the side of the wall, one hand touching it, my feet testing the ground before me. I hoped to find an end to the wall, to find myself back in the wood. I walked for a short distance until my foot found nothing beneath it. I imagined a large dark chasm waiting there to swallow me into its depths had I not been careful.
Feeling my around it I walked along the wall and presently found an opening. I passed through it expecting a way out, darkness made it impossible for me to see, so again I felt my way along the sides of the wall only to discover more wall at the turn. I found more such openings and turns and it was not until long after that I realized I could not even remember the way back to the place from which I came!
I found a place to sit and began to think. The same questions coming back to me. Where was I? How did I get here? What was this place? What was to become of me? To these questions I had no answers. I was tired. I lay down on the ground and fell into slumber.
When I awoke again, the clouds had deserted the sky and the stars shone again from the heavens. At least I had some light to see. For the first time I looked at the rock. At various intervals I could see openings which suggested other passageways. The walls were high, with no way of climbing them. Should I venture into the unknown passages or should I stay where I was? Surely I would be found! Or would I? Could it be that no one was searching for me? Someone had to come, but when? It had been many hours since I left the cabin and still I had not been found. Did my rescuers suffer
the same fate as I? How did this place get here? How was I to get out!?
I made my decision. I would walk until I was exhausted. Surely there was a way out, but which way? Ahead of me I saw four paths. Which should I choose? I went to the left; an arbitrary decision based on my vague recollection of the direction of the cabin. I walked for hours, choosing and occasional new direction. Never did go back the way I came, try to retrace my steps. The sight of rock made everything look the same. I could not retrace my steps even if I wanted to. There was no landmark on which to base my direction, only the twinkling of stars overhead.
The stars! Of course! Why had I not thought of that before? I frantically searched for the North Star and found it twinkling brightly to my left. Now at least I knew my directions! I walked east for awhile, then turned right at a likely looking spot. Likely looking! How did I ever think that? Nothing looked different from anything else! Even the floor was made of the same sickening rock! I screamed curses into the darkness, placed my head against the cold rock wall and cried hysterically.
(to be continued)
A final Editors note
Once again I hope to leave you shivering ‘neath the blankies like the little kiddies I now you all to be. Even if you do keep them hidden so far inside that they only come out when no one else can see. And if your heart skips a beat the next time you hear noises in the night than I leave you happily. Although Fright will never leave you I shall for just a little while. Or maybe I’ll be lurking in your mind! Maybe I’ll feed on your dreams and give back to you the worst nightmares you’ve ever experienced! Maybe all you’ll be able to think about is Fright! I do so dearly hope so! ‘Till next we bleed my friends! Lots of love from the beasties and I...
J.P. Hunt
Next Issue...
Evil Insanity
The Dream 2
Who Cries?
And many more horrifying works by the growing master of the macabre! I know your just dying for it!
Volume 1, Issue 3, May 1988
Introduction
Today we shall meet a very good friend of our King Fright. HER name (note the capitalized her) is Insanity. Which is quite appropriate considering that females have the unique ability to drive men insane. No offense intended of course, I’m sure it’s truly an innate thing. Your born with it ladies!
When you find yourself staring into Insanity’s eyes you might be surprised at what you do. You may cry like a little bitty baby! But what good would tears be? When you finally break down the men in white jackets come and take you away to a cozy little padded room. The world will take on a ridiculous caste. But who is truly crazy? Mass murderers? When you look around and judge those of us who are insane or crazy, look also at the world. There is absolutely nothing entirely sane about this place! We’re as close to insanity now as the definition implies, so what is insanity reality? How can you label a person crazy?
This probably make very little sense but then what do you expect from the self-professed lunatic? You got to be crazy to live in this world! You have to admit, when you hear a person wanting to commit suicide you think “Hey, they’re crazy!”, “There is so much to live for!” But if you really think about it takes a complete wacko to actually live! Now that’s crazy! Which makes us all a bunch of basket cases and if I don’t end this soon the orderlies will have to drag me kicking and screaming back to my wonderful rubber cell! I’m beginning to believe everything I write! Now that is crazy! You know the world is going wacko when people start repeating the words written by yours truly as gospel! I think it must be time for a story now, so let’s get on with it, shall we?
“Mad! You think I am mad do you?
Wait ‘till you know what it means
to be mad! Then who’ll save you?
Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hah!”
~J.P. Hunt~
Hehehehe! There’s nothing more pathetic than all those loonies who walk around thinking they’re something they’re not. Who do you think you are? Are you Napoleon or Washington? Or perhaps the Devil himself! Like a marble this losers lost in the elevator of...
Evil Insanity
I sit here only staring at the blank wall. I see nothing but the wall. A craziness within itself. The wall has always been there for as long as I can remember. I feel I belong here, in this dark, dank cell with soft walls of rubber. Yes, here where no one can touch me, feel me, or love me. There’s no one else here, save for those who give me pitiful scraps of food on occasion. Someone may save them that is. They only come once a day though, if a day passes at all. It’s a good thing for them to.
If one should enter my personal little room and stare at my wall I would scream, hurl myself at the goddamned fool and strangle them with a wicked laugh! I would then lie the body on the floor, stretched out so as to be seen when the orderlies arrived. Then I would return to my spot on the floor, the one marked with the pink crayon, and stare at my wall.
Those that work here say I am crazy. The most demented they have ever seen. Little do they know. I am far more sane than even they. A wonder though it may be. I have lived since the dawn of time. I saw god create the earth and all it’s creatures. In fact I had my sneaky hands in on a lot of what went wrong in the beginning. I even played my part in the making of this world and was therefore charged for my treachery! I saw Adam jack his first hard on! I tempted Eve with the apple! Ha ha ha, it is I who have sent many to their hellish fates!
I am not always here staring at my wall. I am far too powerful to be contained forever. I’m only here to humor them, those that think they are doing good, to make them think they are out of danger. But I am still very active. Calling on my worshipers to do my evil deeds fully intent on raising hell! For I am hell! And it will be raised! I will succeed in the end! All will know what evil insanity I have such great power over! All will know! All will know! Ha ha ha ha!
When Fright and Insanity walk hand in hand they’re an invincible pair. Knowing this is far worse than not in most cases. Such as in the case of our next cracker whose attic light is about go strobe effect. Read on and become one...
Who Cry‘s?
Tears fall on a page as the writer writes. A tiny droplet of salt water that deeply stains the paper. A letter grows in size then smears as the tear dries. The writer paused a moment to wipe away the trail of moisture by his eye. He sobbed deeply, then sighed, staring at all that he had written. He looked up at me; there was a dark sadness in his eyes almost pleading me to let him stop. I smiled reassuringly and nodded. The curl of a smile touched his lips, a boyish grin formed and he snickered like an eight-year-old. I motioned for the men in white to escort him back to his room but as he was lead through the door he turned to me. The smile had left his face and the first sign of sanity came into his eyes.
“Don’t go there” he said. “You’ll want to, it will be an irresistible urge but you mustn’t go there. It’ll kill. Or worse.”
“It’ll kill. Or worse.” These words continued to echo in my mind without any apparent reason. Except maybe the look in his eye and the total conviction in his voice? But no, just the words of a raving madman to me. I never did read what he wrote although I probably should have, but then who ever does what they should? I made my usual assessment of the interview, jotted down a few notes, then filed it away with all the other loony tunes in my huge Bugs Bunny filing cabinet. It’ll never happen to me so what do I care if they need help or not. I never wanted to be here, hell I never wanted to be a shrink in the first place. That was my fathers’ idea.
I did go there. That’s why I’m here. Now. Writing this...
It was an old cemetery just outside of the city limits. A homely little country plot that was well over a hundred years old. I walked through around 11:30 at night with a flashlight in hand since it was so very dark. As I walked I examined headstones. Most of them dating back as far the 1800’s. I followed the path as
described to me and noticed as I read the grave markers the years escalated into the 1900’s and up. As the dates came closer to current I realized that many of the names were vaguely familiar to me. Although I found nothing about that rather remarkable what did strike as strange was knowing that this particular cemetery had been closed to new graves for nearly fifty years. It was near the end of my walk down the long line of tombstones that lead deeper into darkness that caused me to stop. For etched upon the last three stones were today's date and three names that will burn forever in my mind carved upon marble slabs. One was my father, another was my mother, and the last bore my own!
My breath caught in my throat and I fought to swallow it. My heart beat like a kamikaze drum solo as perspiration was wrung from very pore. After all, my parents have been dead and buried for nearly two decades! If they still were alive somehow then it would surely be my death they would crave! You see, I killed my parents.
Oh, not literally of course. I knew that if they went into the old house they’d end up dead, and I was right! As flat as a pancake I say! It was a wonderfully horribly bloody sight to see them scraped from the floor beneath the roof that squashed them! And I was free from their tyranny! Free from all the abuse! The guilt I felt inside knowing this would happen was a far cry from the joy of knowing my tormentors were dead! Twenty years dead! Could you believe I was only ten when it happened?
