"Screaming . . .," she echoed, trembling with fright. Gustav’s eyes sparkled. His mouth agape in anticipation. And just as the cloud revealed the moon, Hedwig thrust the gift into her son’s mouth. Gustav fell back, then screamed as his face burned. He clawed at his mouth in an effort to remove the gift. Choking, he fell to the cottage floor and lay still. Stone dead, she thought, poking him with one toe.
"I had two gifts, my son," Hedwig whispered as she bent over him. "Two silver coins. So if you didn’t make your fortune, you could still buy livestock and marry Greta." She tucked the second coin inside her pocket. "But tomorrow, instead of your marriage, it will be your burial."
The old woman would dig his grave on the morrow, in sunlight. And during what was left of the night, she would prepare Gustav’s remains. Sever his head with her wood-chopping axe and fill his mouth with garlic. Then she would wash his body, sprinkle it with wolfsbane, and wind him round in a muslin sheet.
As Hedwig worked, silently, by candlelight, the cat came creeping out. "We have a right to survive," Hedwig whispered to the cat. "We must do what needs to be done. It was before your time, Beltran," she said, "so you wouldn’t remember. But this happened once before. This is the way we lost Gustav’s father."
A hoarse voice sounded outside the door. "It is I, Greta! Gustav’s bride. I pray, Old Mother, open the door! So we may wait for dawn together."
Hedwig brought forth the second coin and, gathering her courage, she took up the axe.
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REFUNDABLE WITHIN SEVEN DAYS
A luxurious estate in Brentwood, California - 2011
"He’s small for his age," my mommy whispers with what Daddy calls her bittersweet smile. "And being autistic, he’s too slow for regular school. Please, Jim, he does well with Nanny June. Let’s keep him with us. Don’t send him off to some god-forsaken institution. And, darling, that smoking is such a filthy habit. This would be a good time to give it up."
Daddy grunts. "If that’s what you want, Joanna. And it’s good we’ve got what it takes for lifelong care. I’ll see Paul tomorrow about setting up a trust fund to care for Todd after we’re gone."
I’m Todd. They’re talking about me. And I’m not slow! I begin running around our big living room to show them how fast I can be. "Zoom! Zoom!" I round the end table and send my mother’s prized lamp crashing down.
"That does it!" Daddy grabs me by the collar, shouting for Nanny June to collect me. "Take him down to the pool," he orders, "and make sure he doesn’t drown. Daisy will bring you a poolside lunch."
And off we go. I like Nanny June. She’s nice. It’s a very big lawn. A very long walk. Nanny June sends me into the bathhouse to change into my bathing suit. I’m wearing water wings. I splash Nanny June. She shrieks.
Daddy arrives on the deck. "Nanny June, it’s time. Mrs. Brookman and I will be leaving for the hospital. Do you understand?" Nanny nods. "Then we’ll leave you in charge of Todd until I get back."
That night Nanny June gives me supper and a bath. I’m in jammies, in bed. About to fall asleep, I remember to ask, "Where’s Mommy? Where’s Daddy?"
"He’ll be back soon," Nanny June tells me. She smoothes the hair back from my forehead and kisses my nose. "Go to sleep now."
But the next day comes. Daddy doesn’t come back. Not until after lunch. It’s okay. I have lots of toys. Lots of treats. And I have Nanny June. So I’m busy playing. Rolling my dump truck back and forth on the carpet. Daddy bends over me. I don’t look up.
"Hey, little buddy, I’m home."
I don’t answer. I’m busy rolling my truck.
"We have to talk, Todd," Dad says. He picks me up. Carries me to the big sofa. Sits me on his lap. Daddy points from my eyes to his. "Look at me, Todd." He looks serious. I stare back. "There’s a big change coming, son. Mommy and I have a surprise for you. A present."
I’m smiling. "Give it, Daddy! Give it now!"
Daddy laughs "Right now your present is at the hospital, with Mommy. You’ve got a new baby sister!"
"No! No sister! Give brother! Brother!"
"It’s too late to exchange the baby," Daddy laughs. "Heaven has already sent the baby to the hospital. It’s a done deal, little buddy."
I scream. Jump down. Run to my room. Slam the door. Scream! Slam! Scream! Nanny June comes running. She hugs me. Soft arms. She smells good. I stop screaming. My head on her shoulder. And I am thinking. Remembering.
Remembering when Mommy bought a dress for a wedding. Then she changed her mind. She read the tag aloud. "Merchandise is exchangeable or refundable within seven days." Mommy took the dress back to the store. She came home with a better dress.
It’s not seven days yet. Heaven will have to take this sister back. Then Heaven will give me a brother.
Mommy comes home. This sister is small. Noisy and wet and nasty! Mommy puts sister in the crib. Mommy is resting in her room. Daddy’s lighter is on the dresser. And I now know how to return sister.
I reach up. Take the lighter. I go to the crib. Sister is sleeping. I can refund her. Exchange her for a brother. Send her back to Heaven. I flick the lighter, once, twice. Just like Daddy. A flame appears. I step beside the crib. Sister is sleeping. And I pray.
"God! No sister! Give brother!"
The white, fluffy curtains move toward the flame. God agrees. He sends the breeze to take sister. I watch while they touch, the curtain, the breeze, the flame. I watch while the flame spreads across the curtain. Onto the crib. Then I go outside to stand on the lawn.
The whole house is burning now. It’s so pretty. Houses are not close together here. Finally a neighbor sees the flames and phones. Big red fire trucks arrive. Police cars come. Sirens are screaming. Lights are flashing. Too late to save the house. Nanny June is still in there.
A fireman wraps me in a blanket and carries me to a patrol car. "Except for the kid, it looks as if no one else made it out." A policeman stays with me until a lady comes. She is Social Services.
"Luckily, I can place him immediately," she says. "A really nice home. A loving couple. And they have a baby daughter." She turns to me, "How about that? A new sister. You can be the big brother."
Heaven hadn’t gotten it right! What was God thinking? I should have gotten a brother! I slip out of the blanket and step away from the car. How many times will I have to return sisters?
I reach into my pocket, hoping it’s still there.
And my fingers close around the lighter.
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LAND OF THE TREMBLING EARTH
Okefenokee Swamp, Florida - 2010
Deep in Florida’s mysterious Okefenokee swamp, cypress trees are clad in silvery, Spanish moss. Most sunlight cannot penetrate this dense foliage, allowing monsters to hide in the shadows, eager to pounce upon the unwary.
The Seminoles called this place Okefenokee, the land that trembles as you walk. Most of its 500,000 acres is composed of floating peat vegetation. With few firm places to place your feet, it’s easy to sink down into the murky waters, becoming prey to monsters lurking below … or above.
"Be careful, Billie," Micanopy, the chief, cautioned his grandson. "Those damn Burmese pythons are everywhere."
"Yeah, I just saw a 30-foot one trying to swallow a 30-foot gator down at the other end of the island. Half in, half out, then stuck. Both dead."
"Those damn people and their exotic pets. Set them loose in our swamp! Big problem."
The old man repeated, "Our swamp," reminding Billie that Seminole history traced their people’s lives in this swamp back to 10,000 B.C. And He Who Walks Without Sound followed his grandfather as he went to join the children.
"I will tell you a story," Grandfather said and the children became quiet. "The government tried to steal our land. Tried to make us slaves. But we were smart. We went deep into the swamp. The white men t
ried to follow.
"They did not know the swamp. Alligators got them." He held his hands out and brought them together, like the closing of those great jaws. "Snakes bit them." And here he used two fingers of his right hand, striking like the fangs of a cottonmouth. "But the Seminole knew the swamp. We made it our home."
The old man added triumphantly, "So, we won the war! We are the only tribe never to sign a treaty."
Billie sighed. The Seminole may have won the swamp, but they’d lost the state of Florida to the United States. If this had happened today, the government wouldn’t have to risk thousands of soldiers going in after the tribe. They now had the technology to simply drain the swamp. And for generations, the Seminoles had lived in poverty.
"We Seminole," Grandfather continued proudly, "men, women, and children are still warriors. Each of us must still protect and defend."
"And warriors set an example," one child piped up. As with all the other children, he had heard his tribe’s stories many times.
"I’m goin’ after those snakes. Need more ammo." And Billie pushed his dugout canoe into the water. Standing in the boat’s center, he began poling toward town.
*
An hour later, purchases under his arm, Billie headed back to the dugout. The sound of feet running hard came up behind him and, before he could turn, an electric shot struck his back. "Taser!" Billie thought and passed out.
*
When he opened his eyes, the town was gone. His boxes of ammo were gone. His clothes were gone and so was his Bowie knife. A rundown hunting shack was to his left and two Good Ole Boys loomed over him.
"Yer on our island now, boy! And we got hunting rifles," the one with the stringy, blond hair barked. "Git up! Start runnin’ so we can start shootin’." His fat friend laughed.
Billie scrambled to his feet, meaning to be watchful of the trembling earth and animal predators. Obediently, he dashed off among the cypress trees. As soon as he dared, He Who Walks Without Sound covered his tracks and circled back to the cabin.
Getting past the lock was no trick. Once inside, he found his clothes, his knife, food, and firearms. After eating, Billie packed up the all the ammo and guns he could find, then positioned himself to wait for the Good Ole Boys. It was late afternoon before they returned.
"Damn Injun!" the blond growled. "Has to be here somewhere. No way off this island without a boat and I got the key." He patted his pocket and his fat companion grunted in agreement. Billie let them get up on the rickety porch and then, without a word, he jumped out, firing twice. Clean. Efficient. As befitted a warrior.
He fished the keys from the dead man’s pocket, then toted the weapons to the Good Ole Boys’ boat. Gators were sunning on the far bank and he noted one was at least 30 feet long. He turned his back, bending to place his bundle in the craft. But becoming distracted in the swamp could be fatal.
He never saw the huge python move, silent as swirling water, as it dropped from above, fastening sharp teeth into Billie’s flesh. Its muscular body coiled swiftly around him. Finding his arms pinned, Billie couldn’t reach his knife. The snake was squeezing the life from him. And he wondered what Grandfather would think when he didn’t return.
Then he saw the gators sliding into the water, their assassins’ eyes fixed on him and the snake. Just before losing consciousness, he realized the larger gator had come upon them. Monstrous mouth agape, it meant to devour both Billie and the python.
"Perhaps," Billie thought, "months from now, Grandfather will learn why I didn’t return. When I’m discovered stuck, half in and half out."
I am He Who Walks Without Sound, Billie mind screamed. I have spent my life, faithfully following in the sacred steps of my ancestors.
And then the realization struck him that in the manner of those ill-fated warriors he, too, had won the battle, but lost the war.
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A CASTLE IN SPAIN
Hollywood, California - 1934
Call me crazy! I’ve always wanted a castle with secret passages. A means of escape if danger threatened. Every time I mention this, Heidi, my wife of 16 years, refers to me as "that nut!"
"Hey," I protest, "I can afford a castle if I want one!" And I shake this month’s magazine at her, the one with my picture on the cover. The caption says I’m this year’s Hollywood Hunk, the Master of Sword Play, who does his own stunts. This shuts her up because, as I’m so fond of pointing out, she never brought anything to our marriage except her brother’s penchant for gambling.
"Mommy and daddy are not arguing," I thunder at Lisa, our 12-year-old daughter. "We’re discussing real estate options!" The phone rings. My two ladies know better than to distract me when I’m discussing an offer. "Probably my agent," I yelp.
"More likely another starlet," Heidi snaps. Long suffering, she hisses, "Wait until the next photo shoot. You might wake up with one side of your mustache missing!"
Serena, my agent, is already gushing into the phone. "The starring role in an old-time, swashbuckler movie. They’re offering $5,000,000 and it’s set in a real Spanish castle, with a moat, a drawbridge, and secret passages to explore. You’ll be living on site during the filming. Bring your family if you like. But you’d have to fly out tomorrow."
"Just get the contract ready! I don’t need to see the script." And I hasten to give my family the news.
Once the details were arranged, we departed, seated in first class. I begin to scan the script. El Morro, a tale of love, betrayal, and revolution.
"Much like your own life," Heidi complains. "I’m not crazy about watching you philander with every female within a mile of the set."
"Yeah, daddy," Lisa whines, "it’s bad enough when you do it behind mommy’s back."
It’s an old argument. One I can’t win. And I’ll never change. I put on headphones to block them out and open the script.
When we arrive on location, I decide the castle is a dream come true. I poke about between scenes and find a hidden panel. Then a secret passage is discovered when Heidi and I are in our lavish suite. Lisa enters from the hall and goes into the walk-in closet. We’re having the same old argument and don’t realize a giggling Lisa is again entering from the hall. By the third time, it hits us that Lisa never comes back out of the closet, but keeps re-entering from the hall.
"Tell your old dad how you do that," I beg.
She giggles, "The back of the closet leads to a tunnel. You have to be short to pass through. It comes out in the hall." And in short order, we uncover more of the castle’s secrets. The more time that passes, the more I love our gorgeous location.
The castle has inspired me and everyone is delighted with my performance. On the last day of shooting, I head for the food table, pinching a few bottoms as I go. The starlets squeal. My wife and daughter scowl. And then I overhear the director talking and my knees go weak. This castle is for sale! He’s just said so.
I phone Serena. "Get details!"
She calls back. "The price is right. All the furniture and wall hangings are included. After filming, you could move right in."
I hurry to tell Heidi and Lisa. "This castle is our new home. The rest of our stuff can be shipped."
"Over my dead body!" Heidi snarls.
"What about my friends at school?" Lisa whines.
"I’ll be living here. All our money and stuff will be here. If you two want to stay in California, you can do it in a cardboard box." They posture. They scowl.
They’ll give in. They always do.
I take stock of the structure. The studio made repairs before filming. We have electricity and running water. The moat has been cleaned and refilled. The portcullis has been restored, its machinery in good-working order. I test its defensive properties, lowering it to block the entrance. I amuse myself by raising the bridge spanning the moat.
"Maybe I’ll throw in some alligators," I joke. Heidi scowls. She’s not r
ecovered from my latest dalliances. Perhaps she never will. She stamps off to phone her brother, Jon.
But life at El Morro goes on and each day I find new hidden treasures. And, leave it to the Spanish, we discover a torture room. By the end of the month, I feel as I’ve always lived here. My ladies, on the other hand, grow more sullen each day.
Every night I raise the drawbridge and lower the gate. Then I bathe, don silk pajamas, and read before retiring. Safe in my castle. No one can get in. No one can get out. And I can always escape through the hidden passages.
But this night is different. I’m lying in bed, in the dark, alone with my thoughts. I hear a distinct click, as if the panel behind my bed has opened. A dark shape rushes at me, striking my head with a heavy object, and everything goes black.
I regain consciousness, in the torture chamber beneath the castle, bound and gagged, with a splitting headache. Heidi and Lisa stare at me. Jon is grinning.
"No one will find him here," Heidi instructs, no mercy in her eyes.
"Shouldn’t have made mommy cry," Lisa scolds. Ignoring my muffled pleas, they turn toward the door.
"We can turn this into a B & B," my practical wife suggests.
"Or rent to another movie studio," Lisa chirps.
"And I can afford a trip to Monte Carlo," Jon adds, slamming and locking the door.
My mind races. This has to be a joke. Surely, they’ll be coming back. I wait in the darkness.
A rat creeps toward me. Then more. They grow bolder, sniffing at me, nibbling my pajamas. And I realize Heidi had been right all along.
Only some kind of nut would want a castle.
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SHARK ISLAND
Shipwrecked in the South Seas - 1986
In truth, I am the president of a large, pharmaceutical chain, the holder of four degrees, and winner of many humanitarian awards, including Woman of the Year. My fabulous face was frequently seen on magazine covers. And I hadn’t enjoyed a real vacation in ten years.
"What would be better than a leisurely South Sea cruise?" asked I. So my husband, Tom, arranged for a private craft and a small crew. And the chef laid in lavish stores of the most marvelous foods to tempt our palates, together with a selection of fine wines and champagne "You won’t need much in the way of clothes," Tom advised, "so just bring the bikini."
Tiny Tales of Terror Page 6
