Easter Eggs and Bunny Boilers: A Horror Anthology

by Matt Shaw

  “I’ve called the fire brigade!”

  Jonathan turned Charlotte’s head away from the scene and wrapped his arms and the thick woolly jumper sleeves thereupon, around the children’s heads, trying to cover all four little ears at once. He hoped to muffle the shiver-inducing screams of their terrified grandma, as the unyielding cloud ate through the lounge ceiling and in turn, the bedroom floor around her.

  As the vortex expanded upward and outward, so too did it grow downwards, swallowing the ground, tearing at the foundations of the building, feasting on the water pipes, the electrical cables, the gas pipes, which snapped and hissed and rumbled beneath the ground, as they, much like the threads of the carpet had, slid like spaghetti into a hungry mouth.

  The fire engine sirens came, distant, but growing and Tommy knew that it was pointless. He had seen into the eyes of this beast. This was something great in every sense of the word. Something huge. Something powerful. Something unstoppable. He knew that this nothingness, this storm, would eat and eat, forever, until there was nothing left.

  This is the end. This is how it ends. This is how everything ends.

  I’ve had my last hug from mum.

  The lightning bolts smashed through the roof tiles, sending sharp, grey shrapnel raining down onto the street. The crowd broke for cover. Jonathan leaned over the two children, shielding them with his old, bent back.

  I’ve already had my last kick of a football with Dad.

  Lightning thudded beneath the ground.

  I’ve had my last chocolate egg ever. My last Christmas, my last birthday, my last Easter.

  Grandma’s roof collapsed.

  I won’t see Batman fighting with Superman, or Iron Man fighting with Captain America at the cinema.

  The front of Jonathan’s house began to crumble.

  I should have given Grandma a better hug.

  The lawn was half-eaten and Jonathan pushed the children back, further down the street.

  I never told Freya the Valentine’s card was from me.

  Toby, Jonathan’s black Labrador raced around the house from the back garden, streaking towards his master. Tommy reached out and stroked the animal who whimpered and nuzzled into Jonathan.

  Tommy turned to face his sister. “Charlotte?”

  Lightning thudded underground, sending shockwaves through the pavement. It felt as though the ground would cave in at any moment, a notion amplified by the cracks tearing through the tarmac and paving slabs.

  “Charlotte, I love you.”

  Gas hissed through growing cracks in the tarmac. The neighbours in the crowd babbled louder in a jumble of concerned remarks and warnings.

  “What?”

  “I said I love you!”

  The sickly sweet smell of gas everywhere. Lightning thudding beneath their feet. Panicked cries. Screams.

  “What?”

  “I said I-”

  End.

  Bio

  Jack Rollins was born and raised among the twisting cobbled streets and lanes, ruined forts and rolling moors of a medieval market town in Northumberland, England. He claims to have been adopted by Leeds in West Yorkshire, and he spends as much time as possible immersed in the shadowy heart of that city.

  Writing has always been Jack’s addiction, whether warping the briefing for his English class homework, or making his own comic books as a child, he always had some dark tale to tell.

  Fascinated by all things Victorian, Jack often writes within that era, but also creates contemporary nightmarish visions in horror and dark urban fantasy.

  He currently lives in Northumberland, with his partner, two sons, and his daughter living a walking distance from his home, which is slowly but surely being overtaken by books...

  Jack’s published works are as follows:

  The Séance: A Gothic Tale of Horror and Misfortune

  The Cabinet of Dr Blessing

  Dead Shore, in Undead Legacy

  Anti-Terror, in Carnage: Extreme Horror

  Home, Sweet Home in Kill For A Copy

  Ghosts of Christmas Past in The Dichotomy of Christmas

  Jack can be found online at:

  Twitter: @jackrollins9280

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/doctorblessing

  Website: jackrollinshorror.wordpress.com

  Lepus

  By

  Stuart Keane

  It all comes back to that fateful day.

  That’s when it all began.

  The feelings, the heartbreak. The overwhelming emotion.

  When I realised I'd lost her.

  My one true love.

  I don’t remember anything beyond the final conflict, that particularly fond memory bank in my brain has since bankrupted. Gone. Shut itself down. I think it must be something to do with the agony, the residual pain. I once read that crippling emotional defilement can change a person completely, make them think differently, like rerouting a railway track or resetting a server. The destination is forever changed.

  It all comes back to that fateful day.

  'I want you to leave,' she said. Calm, but forceful. A request, not a demand. Yet.

  She stood in the corner of our kitchen, her back to our American fridge freezer. Her yellow vest and cream yoga shorts were drenched with expensive red wine, a result of a mass spillage caused by shock and tremendous horror. I could see the crimson beverage trickling down her wonderful thighs. Her attractive olive skin was glowing a lowly pink beneath the glaring lights. Her aggravated poise screamed defiance. She was in the right, and I was in the wrong.

  My 'confession' was for naught.

  In her eyes, anyway.

  But I refused to leave. After all, it was our house; both our names were on the deed and we both had a right to it. And I wasn’t finished with this discussion, not by a long shot. I loved that woman. My response was simple. 'What about Shaun? I won't leave him.'

  'He's no longer your responsibility.'

  But he was. And I let her know it. 'You can't raise him alone.'

  She sneered in my direction. 'Watch me.'

  Defiance. I had no answer to that. Which would be my final downfall.

  'I want you to leave,' she repeated. This time, there was a hint of vehemence. An inflection in her tone. It made me shudder, surprised me; I'd never heard Kay raise her voice before; we were pretty happy together. Then came the crucial words.

  'I won't say it again.'

  BAM.

  There it was.

  There's something definite about that type of sentence, from a relationship standpoint. For some reason, I knew we were over then, and that there was no going back. I'd effectively destroyed our relationship. It was dead and buried.

  One action and it was all over.

  It all comes back to that fateful day.

  Push the server button, and flick the railway switch.

  That’s when my life changed forever.

  I want Kay back.

  I was determined to make it happen.

  I just hope she hasn’t moved on, it's been a few months since we last spoke. Seven to be exact.

  Kay's an attractive woman. Just over five feet, slim, toned, long brown hair, with the amazing olive skin that enhanced her fabulous smile and those stunning brown eyes. Her laugh always made me smile, an automatic reaction, one that happens when you're happy with the one you love. I remember the special moments we shared, the moments no one would ever take away from me.

  Yes, she was probably seeing someone else now, probably grooming him into a potential father figure for Shaun. Maybe she was holding off, ensuring the boy was settling in with the drastic change, a huge adjustment that can easily destroy a childhood. Maybe she was holding off because she still loved me. Maybe she wasn’t seeing anyone.

  A man can hope. I can hope.

  Dreams come true, don’t they?

  I push the optimistic thought from my mind. For now.

  One step at a time, I think. Reuniting with Kay was part two.

 
Part one sat before me, and you don’t want to mess this up. Otherwise, it will all be for nothing and Kay will be lost forever. I feel a smile creep over my face.

  It's beautiful.

  I check the suit and slowly run my appraising eyes over it. I reach out and reluctantly touch it, stroking it gently, feeling the downy fur tickle my warm palm. I feel stiff gooseflesh prickle on my forearm. The reaction I was hoping for. I know it’s a job well done; it’s a magnificent work of fashionable art.

  It's finally ready, complete.

  I check the thick black stitching; ensure the loops are pulled taut, that no small hole or crevice remains. I tug on them gently, not too hard; I don’t want to rupture the seams. I check the sleeves, and the legs. I turn it over, check once more. Lift it by the shoulders, and at that point I almost drop it. The fur is still a little slick in places. I must remember that.

  Overall, I'm happy.

  I gaze over my shoulder and stare behind me, beyond the bedroom door – or archway, the cunt of a landlord never allotted me a door – and into the miserable kitchen. I hate this apartment, this fucking two-room living space with its yellowed white cooker, crispy cigarette burns in the wallpaper, and a beaten sofa with obvious semen stains on it. A living room/kitchen combination and a bedroom. The bathroom is just off the kitchen through a wooden sliding door, the tub and toilet both snot green. I can’t get the brown stains out of either. The room doesn’t even have a sink.

  I hear the landlord berating me in my mind's eye, a man down on his luck, with no money and no prospects. Taking advantage of my fragile situation. 'Whadda ya need two sinks for?'

  So I can fucking drown you in one, you cunt.

  I close my eyes. I can hear my teeth creaking as I subside my anger, my fingernails digging into my palms. I feel the skin break, which is becoming a common occurrence. His voice comes squeaking back to me and I groan, loudly.

  'What more does a man need?'

  I need a flat. I need working amenities, and I definitely need a fucking door on my fucking bedroom…I look at the suit and feel my anger washing away. I hadn’t said those words, didn’t dare. I needed a place to stay, somewhere to live, a quiet abode to plan.

  'You take, yes?'

  Let's just say part three of this plan involves gutting the money-grabbing bastard.

  Priorities. Get Kay back, return home, and be happy. Kill my fucking landlord too.

  Easy enough.

  I need to get him out of the picture before he reports me. I haven’t paid any rent in two months, and those bastards don’t let it lie. I'm also ignoring all calls and any knocks on the door. My plan is so close to completion, it would be an absolute disaster if it failed now.

  I think he might also have something to say about the sixty-three skinned rabbit corpses on the living carpet too. The stench is something else entirely, the kind that gets right up your nose and lingers for days, deep in your throat, so deep you can taste it. A putrid odour that makes you choke and cough.

  I began making the body suit from their stripped fur about two weeks ago. An entire suit patched together from the fur of the dead rabbits, with a rough hole in the face so I can breathe and, well, see where I'm going. I also have armholes so I can use my hands. There's no point crippling myself out of the box.

  The body is stitched together perfectly, the result of long hours and dedication. My fingers are still stinging red and blistered from all the sewing. The ears on the suit, a bunny's prominent feature, are comprised of seventy-one torn ears in total, all twisted and bunched and tacked together into a rough shape, like a slim oval for each ear. Despite cleaning them, some remain spotted with blood. I hold it up in front of me, for one last look, and smile.

  Beautiful.

  Terrifying but beautiful. A true work of art.

  The rabbits went to a good cause. I glance down at their strewn carcasses. Some of the meat is green and slimy; the rasping of buzzing flies is familiar to me now. Even the writhing maggots no longer gross me out; especially when I hear several of them thudding on the carpet.

  Nothing bothers me anymore.

  After all, it’s a time for celebration. I'm getting my Kay back.

  And where better to hit her in the emotional weak spot than with the kid.

  Shaun. The boy. Sprogus Maximus as we used to call him.

  It's Easter, and he's getting a visit from the Easter Bunny.

  I can't do this in public; it's too obvious and too weird. I know people dress up as the Easter Bunny all the time, it's somewhat a tradition, but I put a particularly special spin on it. A lot of personal effort, I hope Shaun appreciates it.

  And Kay, but mainly Shaun.

  The suit is void of blood and sinewy gristle, but I didn’t clean it properly, not like those fur companies, I can’t afford chemicals and such. Can you even wear rabbit? Anyway, there's a chance it smells a little now, I wouldn’t know since the stack of bodies in my living room has completely obliterated my sense of smell. Everything reeks like dead rabbit to me, so if I stink right now, prancing through the woods in a man-made bunny suit stitched together from dead carcasses, I wouldn’t know. That stench is unreal, and my eyes are watering. Hell, if I focus enough, I can still hear the heavy maggots thudding against my threadbare carpet.

  Anyway, the woods.

  Shaun is on an Easter egg treasure hunt today, the same as the past three years. Kay loves bringing him here, and I don’t blame her. The woods are stunning and beautiful. All tall, arching oaks and dipping, winding ravines of dirt and grass decorated with a rainbow plethora of fallen leaves. The maze-like trails provide a natural home to deer and badgers, squirrels and hedgehogs, all harmless if left alone. A large lake runs through the centre of the woodland, with a sturdy timber footbridge across it, providing one of the most picturesque views in the country.

  But I'm not here for the view.

  I'm here for my family.

  It's not long before I spot them through the trees, Shaun skipping alongside his mother, keeping pace with her, her long, muscular legs walking with elegance and poise. She holds his hand, keeping him close. He has a huge, gratified smile on his face. Kay is carrying a pink bag that bulges and rustles with chocolate treats. I imagine eggs and bars and all sorts of confectionary goodness that does a child no good at the tender age of four.

  My plan is working thus far. They're heading to the car casually, the Easter fun finished for another year. I track them through the woods, taking the odd step as they gradually close on my position, and I sidestep, inches from Kay's blue Audi. I glance down and notice a grey rabbit staring up at me, confusion in its beady eyes. It cocks its head sideways. I hold my hands up, growl gently and watch it scarper, scampering off into the brush.

  I chuckle, but now is not the time for hilarity.

  I relocate Kay and Shaun. I need to time it right.

  Kay turns the narrow bend, out of the woods. I hear footsteps on gravel now, crunching and scuffing. I hear a stone clink off the bumper of a vehicle. Distant murmurs from a crowd of people chatter across the woodland silence, but none are nearby. I don’t see any other movement through the trees.

  Kay releases Shaun, motioning for him to stay still. Hushed whispers. She pulls the car keys from her pocket. Using her thumb, she pushes a fob and unlocks the car. Its lights flash twice. Kay opens the passenger seat and ushers Shaun into the car, smiling, being the doting mother. The door thunks shut and she walks around to the driver's side, opens the door, and climbs in.

  Which is when I make my move.

  I open the rear door closest to me, slide into the car, and shut it behind me.

  'Hello, Kay.'

  She gasps in surprise and turns around, shocked.

  I smile. 'Hi, darling.'

  Kay smiles nervously, I assume for the kid. 'What do you want?'

  I narrow my eyes, momentarily confused. 'Excuse me?'

  'Take my purse and the car. Please. But don’t hurt my little boy.' She tosses her purse at me. It smack
s me in the chest and I feel a sudden blip of remorse, guilt. She leans over to Shaun in the passenger seat, covering him from potential harm.

  'Kay, it's me.'

  She reluctantly looks at me, recognition dawning in her soggy eyes.

  'It's me. Lee,' I say, lowering my voice, trying to sound harmless.

  'Lee?'

  I nod. Say nothing.

  Her eyes widen as she sees my face, hidden below streaks of dirt. She quickly wipes her eyes, her jaw knotting in a flash of anger. She strokes Shaun's hair and smiles at him, easing his innocent worry. Turning to me, she says, 'Lee, what are you doing here?'

  'I came to celebrate Easter with Shaun.' I turn to face the kid. He's looking at me dumbfounded, eyes wide, a melting Curly Wurly halfway into his mouth. I wave. 'Hi, Shaun.'

  He glances to his mother. 'Mummy?'

  I watch Kay, see her make a calculated decision, the instinct of a mother protecting her young from a possible threat. I can see it in her eyes, those gorgeous brown orbs that mesmerise me so much. It takes her two seconds to latch on.

  'This…this is the Easter Bunny, sweetie. He came to say hello. He's just a bit tired from hiding all the eggs.' Shaun slowly turns his head to me, youthful wonderment on his face, which is when Kay shoots me a glare. She's keeping up the pretence for the kid, smiling in his eye line.

  Good. Makes things easier.

  'Hi, Shaun,' I say, acting the part. 'What did you find in the Easter egg hunt today?'

  Shaun looks from me to his mother. She nods. 'You can tell him, sweetie.'

  He looks back at me, a smile threatening to burst onto his adorable face. I can't tell if he's amused or terrified. I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror, partially hidden in the shadows of the back seat, and decide it’s a bit of both. He swallows. 'I got lots of chocolate.'

  I put on a high-pitched voice, the kind pet lovers use on their suffering dogs. 'You did? Like what?'

  He swallows again. 'Curly Wurlys, Mars bars, Snickers, Rolos.' He sticks his tongue out, thinking, and then looks in his bag, checking his haul. 'I also got Toffee Crisps and Tob…tob…tol…'