Seven Deadly Tales of Terror

by Bryan Smith

  So he continued down Impaler Avenue for a time, moving at an unhurried pace along several blocks, pausing occasionally to peer in at the wares on display behind the windows of closed stores. At one store, Marie’s Curios, he spied a necklace that struck his fancy. He thought it would look pretty draped around Valerie’s slender neck. The price handwritten on the little tag next to it was more than reasonable, too.

  Making a mental note to return to the store the next day, he moved away from the window and continued down Impaler Avenue until it intersected with Delphine Street. On impulse, he checked traffic before crossing Impaler to the other side of Delphine.

  It was a nice night. The sky was clear, the stars above little pinpoints blinking on a black velvet canvas. There weren’t a lot of pedestrians out and about at this hour. Moses heard a distant sound of cars, but none were in sight and for a moment it was possible to pretend he was alone in the city. It imbued him with a peaceful feeling.

  He was a few blocks along down the opposite side of Delphine when St. Seyrig, a very old and very gothic-looking Catholic church replete with spires and carved stone gargoyles on the roof, came into view on his right. The wrought-iron gate to the church’s courtyard stood slightly open, which was the norm. It was closed and locked only on rare occasions. The church was just another of the city’s many familiar landmarks. Moses had passed by it countless times over the course of his life, and he would have paid it no mind whatsoever tonight if not for the moaning.

  His ears detected the sound—faint at first—just as he was walking past the gate. At first he assumed he was hearing sounds made by a drunken homeless person passed out somewhere nearby, perhaps even inside the courtyard. Some of them experienced moments of religious delirium when they were really far gone and found their way in there at night, but he soon realized this was something else altogether. He’d continued on for a few more strides when the sound abruptly rose in volume. It was then that he perceived its lustful quality.

  Moses stopped walking and listened a moment longer, frowning as he strove to determine whether he was actually hearing what he thought he was hearing. In any other circumstance, the question would not have been in doubt. Moses knew the sound of a woman in the throes of sexual ecstasy when he heard it. What was baffling was that it did seem as if it was originating from somewhere inside the dark courtyard. Not being a religious man, Moses was not offended by the basic notion of sexual activity occurring on church grounds, so long as it was engaged in by consenting adults rather than pedophile priests taking advantage of altar boys. If two grownups were in there screwing around, more power to them. He didn’t consider it sacrilege, a concept that meant little to him anyway.

  In all his years of walking past this place, however, he’d never heard anything remotely like this issuing from the premises. This was what puzzled him. Bums doing things to each other in the dark wouldn’t have been too surprising, he supposed, but this didn’t sound like that either. Though he hadn’t yet glimpsed the person doing the moaning, the sound struck him as entirely too healthy-sounding to have emanated from the rotgut-roughened throat of a homeless person.

  Not only that, but it was…exciting.

  After several moments of standing there and listening to the woman’s moaning—which was not getting any quieter—Moses realized his dick was getting hard. He glanced down and saw an erection straining the front of his jeans. Another moan issued from inside the courtyard, this one significantly higher in pitch than any of the previous ones. Judging from the sound of it, the mystery woman wasn’t far from transitioning from moans to screams. Moses’s cock twitched, further straining the crotch of his jeans.

  The intense state of arousal surprised him. He’d always found female aural expressions of pleasure stimulating, but hearing such sounds, especially when he hadn’t had sex on the brain at all until just a moment ago, didn’t tend to produce instantaneous, rigid results. Usually a visual element was required, too. And there was the issue of how much he’d had to drink to consider. This made the painfully swollen state of the organ doubly surprising, as a very high blood alcohol level normally suppressed arousal, at least in his experience. He knew guys who claimed otherwise—that, to the contrary, being hammered made them extra randy—but he was not one of those lucky assholes.

  Bottom line, his dick should be pretty limp right now, but it wasn’t.

  Weird.

  Moses was turning around and moving toward the open courtyard gate before he was even consciously aware of having decided to do so. When he did realize what he was doing, he admonished himself against it. He should turn around and hurry on home. Maybe when he got there he could surprise Valerie with one of the hardest fucks she’d enjoyed in some time.

  This is what he told himself as he stood there with his right hand curled around one of the wrought-iron bars of the gate. It was what he should do, no doubt about it.

  Moses’s hand tightened around the wrought-iron bar.

  He let out a breath.

  Then he pushed the gate open wide enough to slip through the opening and enter the courtyard. The gate’s hinges creaked slightly as he did this, making him wince. He feared the fornicators would hear this and lapse into silence. After all, it was possible they were so into what they were doing they simply hadn’t considered the possibility of being caught in the act. His intrusion on the scene might change that.

  The moaning did not cease, however, nor falter for even a moment.

  Moses continued deeper into the courtyard, winding his way along the concrete path and passing by benches, trees, statues of various religious figures, and a water fountain. A very large tree with thick branches and abundant leaves dominated the center of the courtyard. The big tree stood in a circle of grass, around which was a low brick wall. Years had passed since Moses had last ventured inside the courtyard, but memory told him another long bench sat inside near the tree. The moaning seemed to be coming from that general area.

  He went into a crouch as he approached the wall. When he reached the wall, he dropped to his knees and peered over the top of it. What he saw then made his cock strain harder than ever and set his heart to pounding. He reached down and fondled himself through the fabric of his jeans.

  Two Roman Catholic nuns were inside the wall beneath the low-hanging branches of the tree. A direct stream of moonlight shined through a serendipitously open section of branches, providing ample illumination. One of the nuns was on her back on the bench near the base of the tree. Most of her garments—including the holy habit and its underskirts—were strewn about her on the ground. Of her holy garments, she wore only the wimple that covered her head and framed her lovely face, which was currently sheened in sweat, the mouth opened wide in ecstasy. Her legs were spread wide, one propped on the bench, the foot of the other on the ground.

  The second nun—also wearing only her wimple—was on her knees between the prone nun’s spread legs. Both women had large breasts and lean, toned bodies. This came as a surprise to Moses, who was not accustomed to nuns looking like Playboy models. The kneeling nun had a nice round ass. He gave his crotch a harder squeeze as he stared at it a moment

  The nun on the bench moaned again, writhing on the bench and squeezing her breasts as the other nun flicked rapidly at her clitoris with the tip of her tongue. She screamed when the nun pleasuring her pushed three hooked fingers into her vagina and flexed them. The explosion of sound was like a gunshot ringing out in the night. A few moments ago, so dramatic a noise might have scared Moses off, but he was too enthralled by what he was seeing for that to happen now. He opened his pants and reached inside them to grab his dick, gasping as he did it.

  A part of him felt bad for what he was doing, like a peeping Tom. This wasn’t the kind of thing he did ordinarily. In fact, he’d never done anything like this until now. He wasn’t a voyeur. He wasn’t a lowdown, creeping predator. In the normal course of things, Valerie was all he ever needed to satiate his needs.

  But there was nothing no
rmal about what was happening here. The need driving him consumed him. He felt powerless. It took him a few moments longer to begin to realize just how true that was.

  Another sound from inside the brick wall snagged his attention, pulling his gaze toward a man who was laying on his side several feet away from the bench. The man was nude and facing away from Moses, who initially assumed the sound he’d made was just another result of sexual ecstasy. He figured this was some kind of freaky Catholic free-for-all threesome. The guy was masturbating while watching the nuns go at it. But then the man made the sound again and Moses realized what he was hearing was more like an expression of pain.

  More of an agonized squeal than a moan.

  And he was making the sound repeatedly.

  Moses’s hand froze around his dick.

  He frowned.

  Maybe there was something much darker going on here than he’d first suspected. In fact, maybe it would be a good idea to start backing away and get the hell out of here.

  While he still could.

  But before he could do that, the head of the squatting nun snapped toward him. Yellow eyes flashed in the moonlight. Her mouth opened wide, exposing long fangs at the corners. Her mouth was smeared with blood.

  Moses swallowed hard.

  “Oh, fuck,” he whispered.

  Fucking lesbian nun vampires. Didn’t see that one coming.

  He began to raise up out of his crouch, setting his feet beneath him as he got ready to turn and run.

  The nun on the bench sat up straight. Her eyes also flashed yellow in the moonlight. As the moonlight fell across her flat belly, Moses saw that three large, looping numbers had been freshly carved across it, blood dripping from the gashes.

  Three sixes.

  Moses gulped again.

  Fucking Satanic lesbian nun vampires. Fuck me sideways with a rusty pitchfork.

  The nun with the numbers on her belly beckoned to him with a crooked finger. “You.” Her voice sounded barely human, tinged with the sibilant hissing of a serpent. “Come to us.”

  Moses shook his head. “Nope. I’m out. Sorry.”

  He had every intention of bolting from the place as he uttered these defiant words. However, he found he was unable to resist the nun’s command. Against his will, he walked into the brick circle, whimpering as he approached the nuns.

  More commands were issued.

  Moses stripped off his clothes and tossed them aside, again against his will.

  The nun on the ground grabbed his still-engorged member and tore it off at the root. Moses screamed. The nun grabbed him and pulled him close, clamping her mouth around the gushing wound. The other nun leered at him as she watched and feverishly fingered herself. The man on the ground—the other victim—rolled onto his back and stared blearily up at Moses. He’d also had his cock ripped away and looked close to dead from blood loss.

  Moses stared up through the branches at the moon as the nun kneeling before him continued to suck blood from his ruined nether regions. He thought about Valerie and how much she would miss him. Deep regret overwhelmed him in that moment.

  He sighed as things started to turn fuzzy.

  Really wish I’d gone home drunk for once. Fuck me with a serrated tent-pole.

  He was dead a few minutes later.

  Later that night, he and the other castrated man were buried in unmarked graves in the cemetery behind the church, joining hundreds more men who’d fallen victim to the vampire nuns of St. Seyrig.

  SOUTH COUNTY MADMAN

  Tennessee

  1987

  The dogs were barking again. Luke Benson’s eyes snapped open in the darkness. He was flat on his back in the little twin bed in his room. A glance at the glowing blue numbers on his Panasonic VCR told him the time was a hair past one in the morning. He remained still a few moments longer, waiting for the last vestiges of unconsciousness to slip away. The dogs kept right on barking. The sound wasn’t unusual. Hell, they were dogs. Dogs barked. He lived on an isolated patch of land right on the edge of the woods in his single-wide trailer. Now and then a squirrel would go scampering across the property, never failing to set off Jasper and Harley. The two Dobermans were chained to spikes driven into the ground behind the trailer. They were sweet, loving animals, but the fearsome reputation of the breed effectively kept away anyone who might wish to do him harm. And the sad truth was, there were quite a few folks around who’d like to see him six feet under.

  The barking wasn’t letting up, the way it usually did after a wandering squirrel or possum had the good sense to get gone from the area. If anything, it was becoming more shrill and strident. That shrillness bugged Luke. It bespoke an unusual, worrying level of agitation, which stirred his paranoia. Years had passed since that business with the dead girls, enough time to start hoping the worst of that ugliness was truly behind him. But deep down he knew better. He thought of Stump Wilhoite, saw the old man’s scowling, bitter face in his mind, and remembered the vow of vengeance he had sworn in the wake of Luke’s acquittal. It had been an emotional moment and Stump had been speaking from a place of monumental rage. You couldn’t blame the guy. Some sick bastard had done quite a number on his teen daughter. She was violated and dismembered prior to being dumped in the woods a scant two miles from Luke’s trailer.

  One of the dogs—he thought it was Harley—yelped.

  Luke rolled onto his side and reached under his bed, curled a hand around the grip of his .357 Magnum, and got out of bed. He pulled on jeans, stepped into shoes he left unlaced, grabbed a flashlight, and hurried out of the trailer.

  “Jasper! Harley!”

  The dogs were straining at the ends of their leads, continuing to bark in that overly agitated, shrill way as they faced the woods. Luke snapped on the flashlight and aimed the beam at the line of trees bordering the property. Seeing no one there, he swept the beam around the barren yard and still came up empty. Didn’t mean there wasn’t someone lurking out there deeper in the woods, but he wasn’t about to go stumbling around out there at this dark hour. Even if there was a trespasser in the area, Luke was confident the ferocious response of his animals would prevent the skulking son of a bitch from coming any closer.

  He approached the dogs and knelt between them, setting the gun and flashlight on the ground in order to reach for the scruffs of their necks. They kept straining and barking a few moments longer, but began to settle down as he cooed at them and kneaded the furry flesh between their shoulders. Jasper was the first to fully relax. He sat next to Luke and lapped happily at his face with his gritty tongue. Harley soon followed suit and within moments he was overwhelmed with canine affection. He laughed softly and tried halfheartedly pushing them away, but they immediately came back for more slavering attention.

  The smile died on his face as he spied something on the ground a few feet to his right—it was a hunk of raw meat, what looked like a slice of store-cut steak. His chest tightened and he couldn’t breathe for a moment. There was only one possible reason it was there. Someone had attempted to poison his dogs. Thankfully, the sliver of meat looked like it had not been touched, a miracle he could only chalk up to the dogs’ agitation at the intrusion of a stranger. The thought of someone trying to harm his animals supplanted the terror he’d felt upon spying the meat, igniting a fury that had him clenching his teeth and reaching for his gun.

  He scooped up the hunk of meat, came out of his crouch and aimed the .357 at the woods, squeezing off three quick shots despite the absence of a visible target. The intent was intimidation, though an accidental lethal result wouldn’t bother him any. Any asshole willing to hurt his animals to get at him deserved whatever they got. The explosive reports of the gun got the dogs all worked up again, making them bark and strain at their leads some more. After a few moments, the ringing in his ears receded some and he began to perceive another sound just barely audible above the barking of his dogs.

  Someone was crying out there in the woods. Whimpering and moaning. Calling out fo
r their mama. Poor dumb bastard. Luke had gotten lucky with one of his shots. He didn’t feel good about it, but this was the chance you took when you intruded on a man’s property out here in the sticks, especially when that man had ample reason to mistrust intruders.

  He carried the hunk of meat over to the steel trash can at the side of the trailer, lifted the lid, and dropped it inside. Then he wedged the lid back down firmly, secure in the knowledge that it was out of the reach of his dogs.

  That done, he returned to the rear of the trailer and knelt next to Harley. He unclipped the wired, straining animal from his lead, gripped him by his collar, and pressed his mouth close to the dog’s ear. “Harley, find!”

  He released his grip on the collar and Harley shot off into the woods.

  After retrieving his flashlight, Luke stood and glanced at the other dog. “Jasper, stay! You watch over things here while Harley and I check this out, okay?”

  The animal sat and gave him a bright-eyed, doggy grin. Luke scratched him behind the ears and took off after Harley.

  Tracking the dog down wasn’t difficult. All he had to do was follow the sounds of growling and screaming. Keeping the flashlight aimed ahead of him, he threaded his way through a maze of trees, occasionally having to shoulder his way past vines and low-hanging branches. After just a couple minutes, the flashlight’s beam found Harley’s excitedly wiggling rear end. A shift of the beam revealed the tear-streaked face of a young man sitting with his back against the base of a tall tree.

  The man held shaking hands in front of him in a pitiful attempt to ward off Harley’s snapping teeth. Luke noted that his hands were covered in blood, probably from where he’d been pressing them over the wound in his side. He gibbered insensibly and stared up at Luke with wide, terrified eyes. The guy looked familiar, though he was sure he didn’t know the man personally. It was something in the shape of his nose and the set of his eyes. The firm jawline, too. It reminded him strongly of someone else. His brow furrowed as he searched the nooks and crannies of his memory, straining to make a connection.