by Billy Wells
Cindy shot up off the pillow, rubbed the sandman from her eyes, and said sleepily, “Aidan, Could that be Santa? Do you think his sleigh crashed into the roof?”
“No, silly, Santa never makes a sound when he comes to deliver presents.”
“Well, he must have made a boo-boo this time. I hope Santa and his reindeer are not hurt. Do we have any Band-Aids?”
Aidan ignored her and raced from their room into the dark hallway overlooking the living room with Cindy trailing close behind. He tried to turn on the lights, but they didn’t work.
Mark and Nancy were already standing at the head of the stairs staring into the darkness below. They all listened, but not a creature was stirring and certainly not a mouse.
“It’s only Santa, Dad,” Aidan explained.
“Can we see him, Daddy? Please! Just this once!” Cindy screamed excitedly, jumping up and down, looking like she needed to pee really badly.
“Be quiet, both of you,” he commanded as he continued to peer into the black living room.
Something fell over and crashed somewhere below.
“That was the Christmas tree!” Aidan shouted. “Santa is sure clumsy tonight.”
“Mark, I’ll call nine-one-one!” Nancy said and ran into the master bedroom.
“Don’t call nine-one-one. Santa may have to leave before we get our presents,” Aidan whimpered.
Cindy started to cry.
“That’s not Santa down there,” Mark said as he ushered the family into the master bedroom.
“If it’s not Santa, who could it be?” Aidan pondered.
“Shush!” Mark ordered.
“The phone is dead, Mark,” Nancy said with panic in her voice.
“Where’s your cell?”
“It’s in my purse on the kitchen table. Where is yours?”
“It’s charging on the kitchen counter.”
“Damn.”
“Aidan, bring me your baseball bat,” Mark ordered and rummaged through the end table for a flashlight.
Aidan darted off to their bedroom and returned with a Louisville Slugger that was taller than he was.
Mark grabbed the bat and started into the shadows of the hallway. “Stay here,” he said firmly.
“Mark! Don’t go down there,” Nancy screamed. “Let’s stay together.”
She continued to call for Mark, but there was only silence.
Nancy and the kids stood at the top of the stairs, waiting and listening.
After a few minutes, Mark returned up the stairs quietly and said, “There’s someone down there all right. I saw him standing behind the column next to the TV. He’s dressed in white from head to toe, and he’s very tall. I’m not going to tangle with him unless I have to.”
“Could it be Frosty the Snowman?” Cindy chirped and started to dance again excitedly.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps started up the winding staircase. Mark turned on the flashlight, and they all gasped when they saw a snow-white creature with pointed teeth glaring up at them.
“It’s the crate beast from Creepshow!” Aidan screamed and retreated into the master bedroom.
The others followed close behind and slammed the door behind them.
After Mark and Nancy had pushed all the bedroom furniture against the door, Mark went to the window and wondered if it could be an escape route.
There came a rustling at the bottom of the door. It sounded like a dog smelling for food. With one heavy blow, the door was torn off its hinges, and the bedroom furniture exploded about the room in various piles of destruction.
In the doorway, the hideous snow beast smacked his lips and bared his teeth as his nostrils snuffled the sweet smell of human flesh.
“Daddy? Don’t let it get me! Please!” Cindy screamed. The family cowered in the far corner as the beast raised its gnarled claws to strike.
Mark arose from the bed screaming. His T-shirt was drenched with sweat as he threw up his hands to ward off the creature in his nightmare. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he was gasping for breath.
“You’re having a bad dream! Wake up! Everything is all right,” Nancy said as she turned on the bedside light and felt his forehead to see if he had a temperature.
“Wow! That was the worst dream I ever had. It was so real. Like nothing I have ever experienced.” Mark was still shaking as he looked about the room to see if the world was back to normal and the crate beast was only a monster in a dream.
He laid his head back on the pillow, and Nancy turned off the light. They had to get up early for Christmas morning.
A minute passed, and all was still once more. Mark was still restless as he stared at the ceiling, replaying the horrible nightmare in his mind.
At 3 a.m., something really struck the house with a thunderous boom.
* * *
Tattoo
Marla received a note in the mail stating one of her friends had entered her name in a drawing for a free tattoo, and she had won. Marla was eighteen and wanted to sport a tattoo like her boyfriend and many of her friends, but her parents were adamantly against it. If she was ever going to get one, this was the time.
When she picked up her purse, feelings of excitement and trepidation coursed through her veins as she headed for Jose Mendoza’s Tattoo Parlor. She handed the shop owner the notice of the free tattoo and began browsing through the catalogs of possible images. When she saw the black panther, she knew it was the one she wanted.
She instructed Jose to place the panther’s mouth directly on top of her bellybutton. He seemed to ignore what she was saying as he selected a star-shaped box depicting snakes engraved in the lid from a nearby drawer. Instead of trying to put her at ease during the lengthy procedure, he remained sullen and aloof. It wasn’t warm in the room, but beads of sweat poured from Jose’s beet red face.
“Lie back, and close your eyes,” he instructed coldly. “If you can catch some shuteye, the process will seem shorter.”
After two and a half hours, Jose let out a long breath and told Marla he had finished the tattoo. She wondered why he stared at the image of the panther with such a strange fascination as if it had come from another planet.
“Is something wrong?” Marla said as a creepy feeling swept over her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“No. Everything went perfectly. I’ve just never seen a tattoo with such a three-dimensional quality.” Jose said still glaring at his new creation with the peculiar look of trepidation.
Marla walked to the full-length mirror on the wall, encircled with soft vanity lights. At first glance, she quickly recoiled and stepped back into the shadows to avoid the savage eyes. The beast on her stomach unnerved her, yet she couldn’t take her eyes off of it. She had seen her share of tattoos in her life, but none had been as startling as her panther.
She thanked Jose, who still seemed lost in another world, and pulling down her tank top, handed him a twenty-dollar tip.
He took the bill without looking at it and disappeared into the back of the shop. She called to him, but he didn’t answer. He still seemed strangely unhinged by the tattoo he had just created.
Marla had an eerie feeling when she stepped into the empty street. She wondered if getting the tattoo was the right thing or something she would regret. The neon sign over the door blinked on an off and made a weird intermittent buzzing sound. When the cab appeared without a long delay, she breathed a giant sigh of relief.
In the back of the tattoo parlor, Jose stood staring at the black panther pacing back and forth in his cage. He had acquired a piece of clothing from the four victims he had targeted and placed them in the cage with the panther’s dead cub. The voodoo curse had begun with the completion of the tattoo. The beast was hungry for food and revenge.
When Marla opened the door to her apartment, she found her boyfriend, Luther, was not there. She was horny and hoped he would be too when he saw her new tattoo. She’d been drawn to Luther’s huge anaconda tattoo on his back and the two black taran
tulas on his palms and fingers.
Lying on the king size bed, she stared up at the large mirror above her. Pulling off her top, she slipped out of her bra. The panther’s savage eyes were intensely penetrating, and the glint of its sharp teeth sent shivers up her spine.
At three a. m., Luther stumbled into the apartment and dropped his keys on the floor. After knocking over a chair in the living room, he made his way into the bedroom and crashed on the bed without shedding his clothes. He reeked with perfume and booze and started snoring the moment his head hit the pillow.
Marla was furious. Not only was there no sex, Luther had been with another woman. In the mirror above, she saw the black shape of the tattoo expanding. The sharp fangs glimmered as headlights from passing cars cast eerie shadows on the wall. She pulled a sheet over herself and lay there with mixed emotions of fear and anger flooding her senses until she fell asleep.
The next morning, Luther playfully put his hand on her right breast and tweaked the nipple.
“Get your hands off me, you miserable pig,” Marla screamed and bolted from the bed.
“What’s wrong, sweet thing? What did I do?”
“I can’t believe you came home last night smelling to high heaven with cheap perfume and sex, and you have the gall to expect me to fuck you this morning. Pack your bags. We’re finished.”
Marla threw on some clothes and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.
Jose, who was waiting outside behind the cover of some tall shrubs, couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw her leave in a tight skirt and white blouse. He had expected the high-rise to be surrounded by police and emergency vehicles by now.
He called Marla on his cell, and Luther answered, still very much alive. Jose hung up without speaking and stood on the corner dumbfounded.
Marla had planned to take the day off, but after breaking up with Luther, she decided to go to work after all. It would take her mind off the lonely nights that may lie ahead until she found a new beau.
After work, she stopped at the local deli for a Reuben and a cup of coffee. Depressed, she decided to take her troubles to her sister Stella’s place and fill her ears with the escapades of her former lover.
Riding the elevator to the second floor, she rang the bell for 2A. There was no answer. After pacing back and forth in the hall for what seemed an eternity, she decided to use the spare key Stella had given her.
Upon opening the door, she couldn’t believe the mess she saw in the living room and kitchen. Empty beer bottles occupied every flat service. Chinese take-out cartons and duck sauce packets covered the two end tables. Stacks of pizza boxes littered the carpet, and the side of the sofa had a long smear of red sauce across it. She peeked into the bedroom and heard the shower running in the bathroom.
“Stella?” she called. “Luther and I broke up, and I came over to vent. Turn off the shower, and get your ass out here. I need some serious consoling. I’ll make some coffee.”
No sooner were the words out of her mouth when the smell of cheap perfume wafted from the unmade bed. Marla immediately recognized the same sweet, intoxicating scent she’d smelled on Luther when he’d stumbled into bed last night.
“You bitch!” she thought. “How could my own sister be cheating on me after all I’ve done for her?”
Stella reluctantly came into the room with a towel wrapped around her and water dripping from her hair on to the bedroom carpet.
“Marla, please listen to reason. It’s not what you think.”
“Did you fuck Luther or not? That’s all I want to know,” Marla demanded, pacing the floor like a wild animal.
“I’d planned a party for a friend at work, and Luther happened to stop by. He was in the neighborhood, heard the loud music in the street, and stopped in for a brew. He had too much to drink, and when he passed out, my friends let him sleep it off in my bedroom. After everyone left the party, I was so drunk; I fell into bed with my clothes on. You must believe me; I forgot he was there.”
Marla picked up a pizza box and hurled it against the wall. “I’ve been drunk God knows how many times, but never so drunk I didn’t know who was fucking me.”
“Luther thought I was you and I was too drunk to care what he did. That’s the truth. When I realized what had happened, I kicked him out and told him to go home. I’m sorry, Marla. I know it looks bad, but it was nobody’s fault. We just had too much to drink, and things got out of control.”
Marla stared at her sister in disbelief. Who on earth would believe such a story?
The visions of Stella and Luther going at it made her blood boil and plunged her into a fit of madness. She had the sensation of the beast coming alive on her stomach. Her head began to swim as she saw the fear in her sister’s eyes, and a dark shape emerged from the shadows. Then, the world went black, and she passed out on the carpet.
When Marla opened her eyes, it was dark. She didn’t know how long she’d be out. When she remembered the look in Stella’s eyes, a great feeling of dread rushed over her.
Turning on the wall light, she saw the blood and gore that splattered the bedroom. The remains of her sister lay among the shreds of a blood soaked bath towel on the floor. Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw dried splotches of blood on her white blouse and across her face. Emotion flooded her senses as she confronted the realization her kid sister was dead, and she would never see her again.
After sitting on the bed, unable to cope with what she’d experienced, she finally gathered enough strength to investigate. She surveyed the apartment and found the sliding door of the balcony ajar. Bloody animal tracks led outside. She went out and looked at the flower garden ten feet below. Inspecting the exterior further, she saw that the tree next to the balcony had large gouges in its bark.
She remembered the feeling that had come over her right before she passed out and the catlike shadow on the wall. Had she turned into a panther and ripped her sister apart? She loved her sister and couldn’t believe she’d ever be mad enough to strike her, much less kill her.
Nothing made sense. She began sobbing violently. A vicious migraine pounded in her temples. She didn’t remember anything that had happened after passing out. The blood on her blouse nauseated her. What other explanation was there? She had to be the murderer unless a wild animal had climbed the tree, jumped onto the balcony, and devoured her little sister. If such an attack had occurred, why was she still alive? Staring at the tattoo in the blood-splattered mirror, she cringed at the black beast with the hungry eyes.
She took a shower and washed the blood splatter from her body. Afterward, she put on a top and skirt from her sister’s closet. Not knowing what else to do, she decided to return to her apartment to think things over before calling the police.
Upon leaving the building, she saw the picture of a black panther on the cover of the morning paper. The article indicated one of the cats at the Bronx zoo had been missing since yesterday afternoon.
What an uncanny coincidence for a panther to have escaped from the zoo at the same time a wild animal attacked her sister. Had the panther killed Stella after all? The tree next to the balcony did have claw marks on it.
What would the police discover when they investigated the crime scene? Her fingerprints were everywhere in the apartment, but after all, she was Stella’s sister and had been there many times. Surely, they would never suspect a human being of committing such a savage attack on her sister.
Hailing a cab, it was a ten-minute ride to her apartment. When she arrived and saw the door ajar, she had a bad feeling at what she would find inside. Opening the door quietly, she called out, “Luther, are you here?”
She heard the sound of the TV in the next room. When she went in, the aura of the flat screen dancing on the walls and ceiling seemed surreal. Then she saw the horror of Luther’s body spread-eagled across the blood soaked couch. His eyes were open, and his throat torn out. From a gaping hole in his stomach, his intestines protruded from the mouth of his anacon
da tattoo like a shredded long tongue onto the carpet. Something had bitten off several of the tarantula legs on his fingers. Naked from the waist down, the beast had devoured portions of his thighs.
Marla couldn’t believe the nightmare that continued to unfold. Could she have killed the man she’d planned to marry only days ago? Luther was a pig, but he didn’t deserve this. A tear rolled down her face as she reminisced the good times she’d shared with him. She had no memory of returning to her apartment and killing Luther, but she had a bad feeling she might have. The odd sensation crept across her stomach, and an eerie hunger started building in her loins.
She dialed 911 and waited for the police.
When they arrived, the first officer on the scene lost his breakfast when he saw Luther’s body. He was a new recruit, and had never seen a partially devoured body. His partner, a hardened veteran, ignored the bloodlust and started questioning Marla in another room. After two hours of answering the same questions repeatedly, the officer asked if there was someone she could stay with while the coroner and the CSI unit went over the crime scene.
She told them she could stay with her sister for a few days. The officer made a note on his pad and informed her she was free to go, but would be needed later for further questioning.
When Marla returned to her sister’s apartment, she called the number the officer had given her. Sobbing hysterically, she told him her sister had also been attacked by an animal and was dead.
In a few minutes, the same two officers came knocking on her sister’s door, and she let them in. The young officer threw up the lunch he had wolfed down on his way to her apartment. The veteran officer started taking notes the same as before.
After three more hours of questioning, the officers had another officer take Marla to a motel on the south side of town. They cautioned her again that she would be needed for further questioning and was not to leave town.
Sitting on the bed, she switched on the TV. When the picture flicked on, a newsman reported that the savagely mutilated body of Clarence Abel had been discovered on the steps of his apartment at 323 Sycamore in Queens that morning. The commentator added that the police assumed Abel was the third victim of the panther that escaped from the Bronx Zoo.
