by Alan Spencer
Gideon addressed the audience, expecting the uproar. “Ah, the gods heed me. I will make them return. Let’s hear it. Clap for me! You’ll see my magic. It’s real. I promise you, all is well. All is well!"
Bunny stood still on the stage unnerved, squinting throughout the audience to check if this was really happening. She drew back the purple curtain at his request, though hesitantly, afraid helping the man would make matters worse.
The audience didn’t cheer this time, but Gideon understood why.
He too was concerned.
The magic had worked too well tonight.
Stumbling on his words, he spat out to the uneasy crowd, “I will count to three, and the gods shall place the audience members back into the living world. I am Gideon. Heed my magic.”
He waved the wand back and forth (the action meaning nothing, and Gideon knew it too) and closed his eyes. “I call upon the gods. Return our visitors from the world of the ghosts and spirits to the living.”
Gideon counted aloud since no one else joined in.
“One...two...THREE!”
The curtain was drawn back by Bunny. Instantly, the chair legs scuffed the stage’s floor. Gasps rocked the club. Tables were knocked over and screams issued with alarming intensity. Patrons battled to escape the club, barreling into each other, shoving, and pushing, and fighting and cursing the horrible spectacles busying the bar and seating area.
Gideon buckled to his knees, taking in the horrors. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way!”
Matthew closed in on the stage, though he was hesitant to enter the morbid carnage.
His life was in danger too.
The audience members on stage did return, but they were altered. Eyes had switched sockets, the orbs bleeding from the exchange. Legs and feet were mismatched. One body was only a torso with an arm replacing the head. Fish-net legs jutted from a man’s big-bellied torso, the connection sealed by tangles of melded-together flesh and bone. A man’s head was attached to a women’s body, the pink dress sodden in crimson from the throat’s strange flesh graft stitching. The twenty people were blended together, not a single one owning their original parts. They writhed in horrid agony, twitching, and bleeding, and screaming and pealing out in terror, their inflictions unimaginable.
Those that weren’t dead upon returning were soon thereafter. The club was silent and near empty. Bunny retreated out the back exit, the final person to escape. The other security officer, Sam Wilks, was calling the police from the back room, his expression petrified and so pale.
Gideon wept on stage, curled in a fetal position and babbling. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. They promised they wouldn’t hurt anyone ever again. They promised. They promised me they’d be nice.” Snarling as spittle flecked out his mouth, he shouted, “And look what they’ve done!”
Matthew avoided numerous puddles of blood, treading closer to the grief-stricken man. The stage was a macabre scene, and he did his best to avert his eyes from studying the victims. Raising his voice, he attempted to re-claim control over the chaos, “Come with me, Gideon. You’re under arrest. It’s over. Now come along quietly.”
He wasn’t a cop, but it was the best thing he could muster in the situation. Gideon didn’t move or resist. Matthew removed his cuffs from his belt, afraid to touch the man. How safe was it to be near a person like Gideon? Would his limbs be switched out too?
The magician’s mouth was an open maw. Sorrow affected his words. “It wasn’t me. They promised to be good. I should’ve learned from the first time. They deceived me again. I should've known.”
“Don’t move,” Matthew instructed adamantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I'm taking you to the police. You can explain it to them, okay?”
He forced Gideon’s hands behind his back, sucking up his fears and putting the man in custody.
The man sobbed, “This wasn’t my illusion...it was theirs.”
Matthew fastened the cuffs, ignoring the man’s cryptic confession. “Let’s just let the police handle—”
Once he lifted the man to his feet, Gideon vanished.
Psycho Therapy
Alan Spencer
The horrors are all in your mind!
Craig Horsey's first visit to a therapist is hardly what he expected. Dr. Krone's unorthodox treatment begins by hooking Craig up to a device the doctor claims can take him back to relive the memories of his past and mend his damaged psyche.
But instead the machine taps into Craig’s worst subconscious fears. Monsters, madmen and incredible terrors now turn his past into a nightmare. To survive the sadistic game, Craig must somehow uncover the truth about Dr. Krone and escape the machine while battling deadly visions determined to steal his sanity—and his life. Only one thing is certain: If he dies in his mind, he’ll die in reality.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Psycho Therapy
Copyright © 2013 by Alan Spencer
ISBN: 978-1-61921-179-7
Edited by Don D’Auria
Cover by Scott Carpenter
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: February 2013
www.samhainpublishing.com
