Easter Eggs and Bunny Boilers: A Horror Anthology

by Matt Shaw

  The whore looked young, just as he had specified. She wasn’t truly the age he desired, of course, too many nights walking the streets told the truth behind the lie she was trying to perpetrate. The dark rims under the eyes, cherry painted lips scabbed and cracked, but she was playing the part nonetheless. School uniform, white shirt open to reveal a black bra which she barely filled, nondescript tie pulled loosely around her neck. Her hair was bleached blonde and in pigtails.

  He recognised the look when she saw him, the one it always was. Revulsion, disgust, fear. Another crack in her character. He knew well enough that girls actually of the age he desired were much easier to fool than the tramp standing on his doorstep. He supposed it could be that she was wary of the rabbit suit.

  “Come in,” he said, motioning to the shadow filled room at his back.

  The whore complied, knowing that fear wasn’t going to pay her rent or feed her habit. Rose closed the door behind her.

  The whore looked around the room, then set her eyes on him. She was trying to hide it, but he could still see the fear that burned in them. “What’s with the outfit?” she said, black stumps of teeth behind her lips the consequence of crack addiction.

  “How old are you?” Rose asked.

  “Seventeen.”

  “No. play the character. How old are you?”

  The whore stood, and itched at the scabs on her arms, unsure what was happening. “How old do you want me to be?”

  “Young,” Rose said. He could feel himself stiffening against the costume again.

  “Alright, I’m fifteen.”

  “Younger.”

  “Twelve.”

  Rose shook his head. The whore grimaced and lowered her eyes. “Nine. I’m nine.”

  “Good. Very good. Get on the bed.”

  Another moment of hesitation was followed by the realisation that it was too late to back out now. She was no stranger to weird stuff, but even so, she wanted out as quickly as she could.

  “What’s your name?” Rose said in a near whisper as he walked to towards her. She was kneeling on the bed, not realising that the fear she was struggling to hide was making the experience infinitely pleasurable for him.

  “Amy.”

  “Not tonight. Tonight, I want you to answer to the name of Ben.”

  “Ben?” She repeated this time, the fear wasn’t something she could disguise or hide.

  “Ben,” Rose repeated as he started to touch himself. “Have you been a good boy ben?”

  She nodded, glancing past Rose to the door.

  “Remember the story I was telling you yesterday about Easter?” Rose went on as he pulled down the zip at the front of the costume.

  She nodded, hoping that if she just went along with it, everything would be alright and she could leave.

  “Remember how I told you Easter wasn’t about just chocolate? How you thought the Easter bunny brought them?”

  The girl nodded again, involuntarily shuffling further back on the bed as he approached, his knees bumping into the bottom edge of the mattress.

  “Well, I’m the Easter bunny, and I’ve brought you something much more delicious to chew on.”

  He took it out, showing it to her. “I want you to put this carrot in your mouth. Don’t tell mummy, though, it can be our little secret.”

  He clambered onto the bed and pulled her towards him. She started to squirm, but it seemed he enjoyed that more. Eventually, she let him do what he wanted to do, endured the awful, twisted things he said. When it was finished, she left, eyes streaked with makeup, taste of his seed in her throat. As she stumbled away from the house, she started to cry.

  SUNDAY

  Rose walked own the wide, white hospital corridor, whistling to himself. He had decided against the rabbit costume. There were too many stains on it after his time spent with the whore. Instead, he was pristinely dressed in his reverends attire. Perfectly pressed black clothing, white collar around his neck. He had washed and changed and was carrying his bounty of gifts in several plastic bags which rustled at his sides. It was a glorious day, and golden grids of sunlight came through the windows and left dazzling patterns on the floor and walls. The warmth on his cheeks felt good. He arrived at the nurse’s station and smiled at the pretty brunette behind the desk.

  “Reverend Rose, I’m here to see the children.”

  The nurse smiled in recognition. “Of course, Glenda said you would be dropping by.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You know, it’s so kind of you. To bring gifts for the children is really thoughtful.”

  He looked at her and smiled. “I like to do my part. I love children, and would like to help them if I can.”

  “The children here are vulnerable, many of them in need of someone they can trust.” The nurse said.

  Rose looked towards the ward doors. He could hear them chatting and laughing, then felt a rousing in his trousers. “I think I’d like to make this a regular thing. Really spend time with the children, building a trust, building a special bond. Tell me, how old are the children on this ward?”

  The nurse shrugged. “It varies, most of the children are aged between six and twelve.”

  “Six and twelve,” Rose repeated, stifling a little smile. “Good ages. Minds still young enough to mould.”

  Bodies still fresh and tight he almost added, but only cleared his throat instead.

  The nurse’s smile faltered, and Rose thought that she might, for a second, have seen his true intentions.

  “Anyway,” he said, standing straight. “I better go in. Thank you for your help, nurse.” He walked towards the ward and turned the corner out of sight.

  *

  He stayed for an hour, getting to know the children, ensuring each of them got an egg. When he could he talked to them about the true message of Easter. For the most part, he just looked at them and played increasingly depraved scenarios in his head. He checked his watch, then stood, knees grumbling. He didn’t speak to any of the children as he made his exit. They had lost interest in him and were chattering as they tucked into their chocolate gifts, chewing noisily. Another check of his watch told him it would be soon. He walked back the way he had come, stopping again at the nurse’s station.

  “The children like their gifts,” Rose said, glancing back over his shoulder.

  “I’m glad, I’m sure they will never forget this.”

  “No, I do believe you are right. Goodbye, Nurse.” Rose walked away, enjoying the sun on his face.

  The rat poison he had laced the eggs with wasn’t guaranteed to work. He had read about it on the internet. It could cause blindness, or even catastrophic organ failure at best if ingested, coma or death at worst. He was hoping for coma for the most part. That, after all, would be the best way to convey his message, although their fate was now in the hands of the almighty. He liked that. Administering the poison had been tricky, and in the end, he had needed a syringe to inject the plastic covering on the front of each egg, each time using a differing and random amount of the poison, which he had diluted with a strong bleach. He supposed it was a lottery as to who got which and what happened to them. There was some doubt whether the children would notice something wrong, a smell, a residue, but he had watched them eat the eggs without question, stuffing their greedy little faces.

  “The children are the light of life, and their bodies shall be the shell of their tomb,” He muttered to himself as he made his way towards the exit. He would go home and watch the news and wait for the police to arrive. He would even wear the rabbit costume whilst he waited. It seemed appropriate.

  THE END

  Bio

  Michael Bray is a horror / thriller author of more than ten novels. Influenced from an early age by the suspense horror of authors such as Stephen King, Richard Laymon & Brian Lumley, along with TV shows like Tales From The Crypt & The Twilight Zone, he started to work on his own fiction, and spent many years developing his style.

  With books sold in over forty co
untries and rights optioned for movie and television adaptations of his work, he recently signed with Media Bitch literary agency where he intends to take the next step in his writing career. He currently resides in Leeds, England, with his wife Vikki and daughter Abi.

  Where to find Michael Bray online

  Official website: www.michaelbrayauthor.com

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/michaelbrayauthor

  Twitter: www.twitter.com/michaelbrayauth

  Instagram: www.instagram.com/michaelbrayauthor

  Google +: www.plus.goggle.com/michaelbrayauthor

  WHEN A BUNNY SNAPS

  Jim Goforth

  It wasn’t the requirement to be cavorting around in the miniscule costume that made her look like Easter Slutty, or some reject from the Playboy Mansion, nor the long hours spent teetering on ridiculously high heels doing a balancing act with drinks trays and the like, that shredded Bunny’s nerves.

  No, on a night like tonight where an establishment such as Fantasy Dress did some of its best business, that tiny, barely there namesake outfit, complete with rabbit ears and a cute little fluffy tail perched above a thong and her tight buttocks and those stiletto heels were what pulled in the big tips, so she took all that in her stride. She knew how to work it, she acknowledged what the punters came there for and she knew at the end of a gruelling shift, she’d be sitting pretty.

  What really got under her skin was the utter sleazeball motherfuckers that seemed to pick nights like tonight to come crawling out of the woodwork in droves, migrating towards Fantasy Dress like a plague of lecherous locusts. Which was ironic, given her tiny, revealing attire, high heels and whatnot, and her acceptance of the fact that males mostly came along to ogle, drool and fantasise, but all the same the behaviour of these pricks ground her gears. Dredged up old bad memories. Recollections she’d tried to inter some time ago.

  It wasn’t all nights they were like that either. For the most part, they understood their place, they played by the rules, they respected the no touching the waitresses policies and all of that shit. Of course there was always as least one knucklehead either getting himself overly liquored up or too turned on just by being in the proximity of nubile, nearly nude waitresses, but security were usually on the spot pretty stringently. But the big nights, the special events, the holidays…

  That was when the freaks came out.

  Fantasy Dress itself was nothing grander than a bar/restaurant with a flair for theme specific costumed staff. With a twenty four hour operating license, its main selling point wasn’t the food it dished up, the ambience or in fact, that twenty four hour operating license. It was the costumed staff. All nubile, buxom young women dressed in risqué, skimpy attire revolving around certain themes, depending on the day or time of year. These women were in costume all year round, with management paying close attention to the calendar, current trends and all kinds of criteria to keep the interest in what the girls were wearing maximised, but while the patronage of the place was always pretty high, it was holidays and special annual events when business was booming and finding space in the joint was a hell of a mission. On days like Christmas, Easter, New Year’s Day and the like where there was precious little else open, let alone for twenty four hours, Fantasy Dress was killing it. Hence the big tips for those like Bunny, tasked to deliver food and drinks in minimal clothing, to exuberant customers who nine times out of ten couldn’t care less what they were eating. It was all about having those attractive females with barely restrained breasts and exposed asses, long legs and intoxicating perfumes swanning all around them, being able to ogle the abundant flesh and knock back a few cold ones in comfort.

  It wasn’t a new concept, not a novel idea, certainly nothing which hadn’t been done before countless times, just a standard run of the mill licensed establishment acting as a gimmick outlet for folks to accumulate and spend dollars, but Fantasy Dress shrewdly zeroed in on base human desires and predictably it paid off.

  Tonight was Easter. The biggest calendar night of the year for Bunny when it came to getting into costume. Her boss and fellow staff played up the fact that her name genuinely was Bunny, often encouraging her to show punters her driver’s license and have her dress as the sluttiest bunny on the block. It meant big bucks for her, but it also meant a fuckload of sleazy attention. Even donning a sexy Santa outfit or enticing elf at Christmas or any number of revealing twists on supernatural beings around Halloween, didn’t generate quite as much fixation and attention for Bunny as that event in March or April did when it rolled around every year.

  She didn’t even need to go to any elaborate lengths with the costume either, like some of the girls did. A stupid pair of rabbit ears on her head, draw some cute little whiskers on her cheeks with eyeliner and a fluffy tail attached to her thong or whatever minuscule type of underwear was going to be likely to attract the most attention and she’d have the patrons showering her in cash. And unfortunately, unbridled lascivious attention of the worst kind.

  *

  “I’m taking a break now!” Bunny called, trying to make herself heard over the medley of sound comprised of raucous drunks, tittering idiot girls, music and general crowd noise.

  The intended recipient of her statement, her boss, didn’t appear to have caught it, but a fellow staffer closer to her did. Mara, pushing forty, but still looking stunning and able to keep the men’s eyes on stalks was a Fantasy Dress veteran and essentially the one all the other girls took their cues from when first starting up. She was a fixture in the place, part of the furniture. While multitudes of younger women came and went through the place in a staff turnover that resembled a revolving door, Mara held her position with an admirable tenacity.

  She nodded to Bunny and started to wave her off on her break, then looked as though she’d changed her mind.

  “Sure hun, go on and take a load off, but first can you shoot this lot of drinks over to table twelve?”

  “Table twelve? Oh hell no, those guys are a pack of obnoxious, degenerate assholes. That dick with the buzzcut and pink shirt told me he’d ‘love to smash in my back door and use my perky little cottontail as a jizzrag’. Amongst other pleasantries.”

  “Charming.” Mara pursed her lips in disapproval, though whether that was in response to what the vulgar jackass had to say or Bunny’s refusal to carry out the request, wasn’t clear. She wasn’t Bunny’s boss by any stretch of the imagination, but she had seniority, influence and an apparent untouchable status when it came to getting her way and holding onto her position. Still, she didn’t draw the attention that Bunny did…

  “Not the word that immediately came to my mind.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “I’m sure Kathy will do it. She thrives on what some of these idiots say. She encourages them.” Bunny suggested hopefully. “I don’t know what it is about Easter…every year it’s the same thing for me. I’m a freak magnet.”

  “Of course you know what it is hun. It’s your cute little cottontail. Anyway, go on, run along and take your break. But no tarrying; you know we’re short on numbers tonight and we need every hand on deck.”

  “No worries,” Bunny hastened past to grab her jacket. It wasn’t a particularly cold night and she wasn’t planning to walk out on the main street wearing less than underwear like she was off to attend some Hooker Halloween party, but nor did she fancy standing around out in the back alley having her smoke break in minimal attire. Some of the girls didn’t give a rats about standing around in their skimpy costumes either in the back alley or those bordering the building, hell some of them even wandered right out the front and mingled with the passing foot traffic and folks on congested sidewalks on a busy night, trying to coerce and persuade more punters to come and join the party, but that wasn’t Bunny’s game. When she went for a break, she wanted it to be a fucking break away from the madness and crowded mayhem inside, not a parade right into another circus out on the city streets.

  The jacket was long enough so the hem of it woul
d mostly come down past her ass, so unless she bent over to touch her toes or some such shit, she wouldn’t be flashing her bare buttocks and cute little cottontail for whatever breed of miscreant might also be frequenting the alleys. Bunny had no plans on doing that. What she wanted to do was take her infernal six inch stilettos off and rest her aching feet, indulge in a cigarette to calm herself and regain some composure and then steel herself for the final leg of the night. What she really wanted to do was knock back a couple of shots of top shelf vodka, but that was a strict no-no. Fantasy Dress head honcho Pasch was reasonably lenient in regards to some aspects of what the girls could get away with, but drinking on the job or with the patrons, accepting drinks from them, being under the influence of any substance was grounds for immediate dismissal. He wasn’t even keen on them smoking, but that was one concession he granted, albeit grudgingly.

  Bunny deliberately aimed for the facilities, then abruptly veered towards the staff exit door. She surveyed the busy interior of the place, ensuring no eyes were on her or watching her depart, then surreptitiously ducked out. Mara knew where she’d be headed of course, but it was a fair bet Mara had no plans on taking a break herself at the moment. Bunny’s reason for not wanting anybody to see her exit was simple. Her break was her time to herself; that was it. She didn’t want to engage in small talk with anybody, didn’t want to be drawn into any conversation, she didn’t want company at all.

  She supposed there was minimal likelihood of any of her co-workers deciding to join her, since as Mara had pointed out, they were short-staffed. Bunny hadn’t needed any reminding of that. She was only too painfully aware of it. Jessica had called in sick, Esther was a complete no-show and Karen pulled a half shift, ducking out early with some other pressing concern. Which all made it a hectic hell for those left to contend with the late night Easter crowds, despite there being a relatively large number of girls rostered on.