by R. R. Banks
Warning: this stuff is scary, y’all. Like, wipe up the tears you cried during your nightmares and wring it out into a cauldron of bubble, bubble, toil and trouble scary. It’s got blood and everything. Don’t let your children read it. I’m not even kidding. If you don’t like scary things, just move on. There’s a nice advertisement for puppies on the back page. If you don’t, I don’t want to hear any complaints from any of you. You know who you are. I warned you. Warned.
First, we present to you…
HAYRIDE
A familiar childhood tune slid almost absently from Jason’s lips as he leaned against the tree gently running his fingers down his girlfriend’s back. Overhead the Milky Way spilled across the sky in creamy pinks and whites where glimmering stars bathed and dried themselves on the deep blue of the night. Jason rocked as his tune grew louder in his throat as if it could surround him, protecting him for what was in the shadows. Staring into the sky, Jason focused on the song in his ears and the texture of Gillian’s sweater beneath his fingertips and waited for the dawn.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The sun was dying in a pool of red and orange on the horizon, slipping beneath the rich indigo line that had appeared to usher in the cool late October night. Jason parked his car in the crowded gravel lot and leapt out enthusiastically, barely able to contain himself as he waited for the rest of the passengers to get out. The back doors opened and four others spilled out, but the passenger side remained still. Sliding across the hood of the car, Jason pulled the door open and ducked his head inside, grinning widely. Gillian sat stiffly upright, still in her seat belt, focused intently on the dashboard.
“You can’t change your mind now, Babe,” he said happily, hoping that at least some of his excitement would rub off on her.
When she didn’t respond, Jason leaned across her, unfastened the belt and scooped her out of the car. He swept her over his shoulder and stepped back so that he could close the door. She squealed her protest but he continued to hold her upside down while he locked the car. Tightening his grip on her, Jason began across the lot toward a lit arch banked with hay bales and pumpkins at the far end. Gillian fell silent and stopped struggling, her arms hanging down his back so that he could feel them bouncing on the backs of his thighs in defeat. After several more steps Jason heard her voice muffled against his back.
“You can put me down.”
By the resigned tone of her voice he knew she had given up and would agree to go along with them. Jason stopped walking and gently placed Gillian on her feet. She tried to maintain a dignified look as she smoothed her hair, straightened her navy-and-white cardigan, and tugged the hem of her white t-shirt down sharply over her hips.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” she muttered.
Jason grinned at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“Don’t pout. It’s Halloween. It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”
Gillian shot him a sideways glare.
“That would be Christmas, Jason. And this,” they had approached the arch and Gillian gestured toward the tiny skulls and jack-o-lanterns glowing on the knotted vine structure, “is definitely not Christmas.”
Jason looked around at the people carrying pumpkins, dragging scarecrows and leading reluctant children away from the hay bale maze several yards away. He smiled happily. Halloween had always been his favorite time of the year and even Gillian’s hesitant response couldn’t dampen the excitement buzzing in his head and making his stomach tight with anticipation. Behind them another group of college-aged people were milling toward the arch. Jason checked his watch. He could hear distant screams from the dark woods on the far side of the first pumpkin patch and a grin came to his lips.
During the day, families could be brought by tractor-pulled covered trailers through that forest to the other fields beyond, but when night fell the trailers were replaced by horse-drawn wooden wagons and the paths began to crawl with costumed characters ready to terrify the riders at every curve. The screams continued and Gillian shivered beside him. She wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes darting nervously as if she were awaiting some type of assault. Jason nudged her gently with his hip.
“It’s just harmless fun, Gillian. Nothing to be so worried about.”
Just then a wagon with flaking green paint on the wood and damp-looking straw filling the bed stopped several yards away. Jason took Gillian’s hand and jogged toward it. Brad, Mary, Fred, and Isaac followed and scrambled with them into the front of the wagon. Cuddling Gillian to his side, he crushed her between himself and Brad so she would feel safer. Jason looked at the hooded driver perched on a raised seat in front of them. The tall, thin figure had yet to turn away from the restless horses, adding to the eerie feeling that was starting to build around them. The wagon was filling quickly but as a sandy-haired boy jumped heavily onto the wooden boards, the horses lurched forward, bucking the boy onto the ground and leaving a line of people behind. As the wagon sped down the path Jason turned to see if the young man was alright. He was climbing angrily to his feet, brushing the dirt from his clothes and shouting after them. Jason leaned closer to the driver.
“Maybe you should stop,” he said.
The driver didn’t respond and made no move to slow the animals but as they entered the forest, their run calmed to a fast walk. To either side of them the sound of chainsaws reverberated through the trees and thoughts of the man that had been left behind disappeared as the thrill of the haunt filled Jason’s chest. As they turned a corner they came upon a bloody portrayal of Lizzie Borden standing in the center of the path, dripping axe held by her side and a hauntingly placid look on her pale face. She stepped aside as the wagon approached, suddenly lifting the axe threateningly over her head as they passed. A few riders screamed and Jason grinned. He peered around the driver and saw a male figure in tattered clothes slip toward the edge of the path. As the character threw himself onto the ground, writhing and screaming, Jason noticed the brooch in his hand and the gory eye sockets that marked this man Oedipus Rex. Beside Jason, Gillian shuddered. He pulled her closer to his body and kissed her temple.
“I really don’t like this, Jason,” she said, her eyes focused on the straw at her feet.
Jason rubbed her arm, trying to comfort her. He felt a flicker of guilt that he had dragged her to the hayride even after she had told him that she didn’t want to go, that she was afraid of anything like this, but there was nothing that he could do. They couldn’t get off of the wagon until it stopped. He knew it couldn’t last for much longer. She would be alright when they were done.
“It’s almost over,” he reassured her. “After this, I promise you can start listening to as much Christmas music as you want.”
The screams ahead of them had risen to a crescendo. Isaac reached over and tapped Jason’s leg to get his attention.
“Look up there.”
Jason followed Isaac’s point and saw several bodies hanging from the branches over the path. The nearest one was soaked in red. As they passed under it Jason reached up and smacked it playfully, hoping to make Gillian laugh and bring her into the fun of the decorations and pranks. His hand came away wet and warm, and an eerie feeling washed over him. Several yards later Lizzie Borden stumbled back onto the dirt. She was no longer wielding the axe, but her clothes were torn and the calm on her face was gone. Her hair had fallen partially from the prim bun it had been in and hung in sweaty mats around her streaked face. Eyes wild, she stared at the riders, shaking her head frantically as if trying to warn them. Jason glanced back over his shoulder when the wagon rumbled by and saw her thrashing body being dragged back into the woods by some unseen force. He was suddenly aware that the only screams he heard were hers.
Shifting Gillian’s weight onto Brad, Jason reached forward and laid his hand on the driver’s shoulder, wanting to get his attention and find out what was happening. It felt hard and when Jason pulled his hand away, the man slid to his sid
e, the blood on Jason’s palm now a wet handprint on the driver’s cloak. The movement had revealed the driver’s hands and lap, showing that he was not holding the reigns but was bound to them, the black leather looped around his wrists and knotted in the center. A wide leather belt was strapped over his stomach, lashing him to the seat.
Before he could move again, Jason heard a loud sound from the trees and was thrown backwards into the hay as the horses cried out and broke into a run. The riders screamed, clutching the sides of the wagon. Jason struggled off the floor. Scrambling back to the driver’s seat, he yelled at the man to slow them down, though he knew deep inside of him that the driver couldn’t hear him, and even if he did, there wouldn’t be anything that he could do about their pace. He heard Gillian scream his name behind him, but even as he turned to her, Jason heard the ominous creaking of wood splintering. On either side of the driver’s platform seat the harnesses holding the horses to the wagon broke. A moment later the belt around the driver strained and snapped. As the horses ran the driver was yanked forward, his hood falling back to reveal lifeless eyes in a bloodied face before the animals pulled him from the seat. Jason watched in horror as the man’s body was bounced and tumbled through the dirt as it disappeared around a turn in the path. The wagon tilted to one side, thrown out of control by the speed and sudden lack of a leading force.
Gillian grabbed onto Jason and he curled her into himself, trying to shield her from the impact as the wagon veered off the path and smashed against a tree. People and shards of wood flew from the collision. A long, jagged splinter dug into Jason’s back and he growled in pain.
“Jason!” Gillian gasped beside him, tugging his arm. He pulled the wood from his shoulder blade and tossed it to the ground. “Jason.”
Her voice was panicky.
“It’s alright, Baby,” he began, trying to mask the pain in his voice, but she cut him off.
“Jason, look.”
Prying her fingers away from his arm and cupping her hand in his, he peered ahead of them. Another broken wagon could barely be seen through the dense trees. It seemed to be broken into at least four pieces, the largest of which, the empty driver’s platform, was leaned precariously on its side.
“Brad, Isaac, come with me.”
Jason gently handed Gillian to Mary and quickly took in the chaotic crash, trying to remember the injuries so he could get help. The three men climbed through the undergrowth toward the other wagon, calling out to anyone who may be trapped in the red-splattered remnants. No one responded. As they approached the broken wagon Jason realized what he had thought was paint was streaks and spatters on the rough, unfinished wood. A handprint gripped the top of one slat then smeared down, caking in the dirt and trailing deeper into the forest. The red shimmered wetly in the moonlight woven through the leaves and Jason could smell rusty metallic notes in the damply autumnal air. In his peripheral vision Jason saw a flicker of movement. He stepped closer to the wagon. Brad came around him and moved a piece of wood with his foot.
“Is anyone here?” he asked.
Jason heard footsteps on the fallen leaves and heard a whisper.
“I’m here.”
Behind him there was a low thud followed by a shrill scream. Jason spun around and saw Mary clutching Isaac’s shoulders as he leaned back against a narrow pine. His head hung and she was using her face to nuzzle his up. Jason moved her aside and looked at Isaac. His body slumped against the trunk, pinned to the rough bark by two long, heavy arrows through the front of his neck. Jason turned sharply and grabbed Mary by her upper arms and gave her a hard shake so that she looked at him.
“You were supposed to be with Gillian. Where is she?” Mary sobbed and dropped her head. Jason shook her again. “Where is she?” he yelled.
Mary again didn’t respond and Jason pushed her toward Brad. He took off toward the wagon, shoving through the low-hanging branches and fighting the undergrowth that tangled at his feet. The riders were scattered around the wreckage. He found Gillian hunched in the broken wood, her hands pressed over her ears and her head tucked between her knees. Jason crouched in front of her and touched her shoulder. Screaming, Gillian scrambled backwards further into the wood fragments. He took her face in his hands and yelled her name until she stopped struggling,
“We have to go, Baby. Come on.” He tried to sound calm as he tugged at her. She stared at him with tears pouring from her widened eyes but didn’t move. Jason scooped her off the ground and began to run. After a few minutes her weight became too much for him to continue moving. “I’ve got to put you down. Can you run?”
Gillian gave a weak response and Jason lowered her to her feet. He could hear footsteps pounding around them as they ran deeper into the woods, not knowing where they were going, only that they couldn’t stop. Behind him he heard Gillian trip. A maniacal laugh bubbled from his lips at the clichéd irony. He tried to stop, to turn around for her, but damp leaves underfoot caused him to slide down the hill he had barely realized he was on.
Clawing at anything he passed, Jason tried to slow himself. Rocks and sticks cut him and he could soon feel blood trickling down his face. The air was knocked out of him as he abruptly stopped rolling and landed on hard dirt. He tried to sit up but his head spun and blackness took over him. When his eyes slid open Jason realized he had rolled to his back and was staring into the branches of the surrounding trees. His vision focused and he saw heads hanging from the branches, some looped with rope, others tied to the limbs by their hair. A scream gurgled in his throat as he scrambled backwards. His hand hit something soft and warm and he fell. Looking down at his hand he saw jeans and a striped sweater. Gillian.
Jason lowered himself to his side and laid his head on Gillian’s stomach. It didn’t move. Raising one shaking hand behind him Jason reached to touch her face and felt only leaves and cold earth. He pushed away and stared down at the headless body, at the torn throat dripping blood onto the ground. Again, he heard footsteps approaching. Choking on sobs, Jason lifted Gillian once more from the ground and began to run. He ran until his legs burned and he couldn’t force himself any further. Dropping to his knees, Jason crawled behind a tree.
Suddenly calm, Jason stared up at the sky, the softly blended colors promising a few more hours of darkness before the night would end. He cradled Gillian’s body to him, letting his hand trail down her spine and hummed the opening bars of a Christmas carol.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Holler Holler
August Volume One
For those brave enough to read on, we present the second tale…
Do I need to repeat my warning? Because this one’s worse. There are all kinds of stuff in this story and I don’t want to hear it from anybody when they read it thinking that they were going to be all brave and it turns out that they are just as lily-livered as they already knew they were and they get all sick to their stomachs and can’t sleep at night. I am not responsible for any of this and you all know very well that there is no other place to get the fine journalism and advertising that is offered in this here publication so there’s no point threatening to boycott because you can’t deal with some Halloween boogieman story. I warned you. Warned.
HUNTER
His eyes were open. That is what Eva remembered most about the man.
He hung upside down by his ankles from a tree limb, his torso split from throat to pelvis. A flap of skin hung loose from his scalp as if someone had been disturbed in the process of skinning his still-warm body and there was a glistening crimson smear of blood on his cheek. The man’s entrails had been removed. Beneath him, blood stained the layers of new-fallen leaves.
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Eva curled onto her window seat, her lanky body crammed in the small space making her feel more secure. Outside, the sun blazed in the rich autumnal glow of late September. Copper-plated leaves fell just beyond the glass, piling up on the barren herb garden and wind-worn plank deck. They were joined by thin slices of ru
by and amethyst, creating bejeweled carpeting on which a child may imagine the fleeting glimpse of a fairy but never again would Eva see beauty in fallen leaves. In those delicately veined leaves she saw only thirst for the hanging man’s blood and the blank stare in his weak green eyes. Daniel stepped close to her and pressed a warm stoneware mug into her palms. The milk-swirled coffee glazed her tongue with a sugared, nutty flavor and warmed her superficially.
“Are you alright, Eva?” Daniel asked.
Eva nodded weakly. He perched on the edge of the seat and rubbed the base of her neck. She turned to stare into her former step-brother’s turbulent eyes. A strand of long black hair hung in a stark contrast across one cerulean shock. Eva sensed raw emotion harbored deep beneath his rebellious façade. After a moment, she noticed the folded newspaper Daniel held by his side.
“What? What’s in the paper?” Daniel slipped off the edge of the seat and stood, holding the paper behind him. Eva swung her legs out of the seat and placed the half-full mug on the hard, red upholstery. “What, Daniel?”
He took a step back as she stood.
“Eva, I don’t want you to read it.”
Eva lunged forward and grabbed the paper from Daniel’s hand. A corner of the front page tore, but even with the piece missing the photograph’s content was unmistakable. Another body. Another white-shrouded form, a section undeniably sunken in. The headline was simple. Fifth Body Discovered.
Under the picture was an italicized caption.
“The body of Tina Valentino, fifth to be discovered in two weeks, is the third to be found decapitated. Police are beginning to link other deaths to this presumed serial killer.”
Eva sank to her knees on the navy carpet. Not Tina. Not Tina, that was too close. Daniel crouched next to her, his fingers gently weaving through her thick hair. A moment later she tilted her gaze to him. Her violet eyes were swollen and streaming.
