“Come,” he waved her towards his library.

It was her initial visit to the historic mansion, dark and dreary, quite creepy though fascinating in its own right.

He spun swiftly around then nervously reached for her hand, pulling her quickly into the only lighted room. “There is something I would like for you to see,” his dark bushy eyebrows raised as he waited for her response.

“If it’s on one of these shelves, I haven’t a clue how you will find it,” her giggle made him smile.

He’d had his eye on her for some time now. They were absolute opposites, young, old, tall, short. Neither were mathematicians but both had spent many hours daydreaming of how they would fit perfectly together. And in significant detail, each had jotted down a paragraph or two, bringing forth answers to the equation. They planned to share their imaginings with one another, tonight, on their first date.

“My dear, I have no problem finding any one of these books should I desire to indulge in the pleasure of reading. I have a system,” he let go of her hand, slicked his hair back away from his face, and pressed her into the shelving. She bent her knees making her lips more accessible when she realized he had puckered up and was going in for the smooch.

She remembered thinking what a good kisser he was before she became absolutely mind blown by his romantic gestures. “Oh, Dewey,” she moaned.

Her heals clicked against the stone path. She stopped right before arriving at the steps to number fifty-five.

Fifty-five, there was something beautifully sinister about the place. Newly renovated with fresh paint, hardwood floors, granite countertops and a stain-glass window that illuminated magnificent colors from the day-sky.

Strangely unoccupied in this market. There was a reason, she knew it – the town knew it. But her client didn’t have any idea about the gruesome incident that took place in fifty-five. A set of triplets once lived there, fostered by torturous, money hungry people who kept them locked in chicken cages, rickety and urine covered. She wasn’t required to disclose psychological stigma since the dwelling wasn’t physically damaged. She had done her research, tracked the kids through adulthood, two of which were excelling in the medical field. The other, supposedly, living over seas after being discharged from the military.

She opened the door, sat her iced-coffee on the counter and waited for Henry Holsapple to arrive, the next owner of fifty-five, hopefully. She pulled the listing from her briefcase, scanned over some wording which quickly became blurred by a red liquid dripping from the ceiling. She looked immediately up, and screamed. Henry Holsapple’s lifeless body spun violently around in circles, stuck to the ceiling fan. She grabbed her things and darted towards the door.

“Selling my home are you?” a man’s voice came from behind her. “Fifty-five is mine… and mine,” his tone became higher. “And mine….” he now squealed.

“There is a reason fifty-five remains empty, you know?” He swung a knife in her direction. “Fifty-five will always belong to the three – even if that’s just me!”

“What’s in the cup, Veronica?”

“Take a sip and you’ll find out.“

“I don’t trust you enough for that.”

“Please….. Marty, drink some.”

“Batting your eyes isn’t going to convince me to drink whatever that is. Where’d you get it, anyways?”

“I was at the bus stop, the one on thirty-fourth and vine. Well, a man came dancing blindly around the corner. He handed me a little bottle, said he got it from a gypsy with gold teeth.”

“And you kept it?”

“Heck yeah! I’d never seen or heard anyone so happy. He was having the time of his life, kissing everyone in sight…. Until…..”

“What happened?”

“He kissed a cop!”

“Interesting! Another one of your fictitious stories, I see.”

“You’re right, I’m joking. It’s really the Halloween punch mom makes every year for her party. I saw her boyfriend spike it with liquor.”

“Now you’re talking! Let me take a swig.”

“Here ya’ go!”

“Ooh-wee, that’s nice!”

“Drink it all. I can get more.”

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are? Veronica, I have loved you since Kindergarten. I was thinking me and you should consider being a couple, matter of fact, I insist upon it.”

“Dang… Now, I have to find an antidote for this stuff. I guess it’s true what they say – You want them until they want you.”

“What’d you say, baby?”

“Oh, nothing…..” (Deep sigh.)

“Teresa, Dale, what brings you here, today?” Dr. Saxini had been practicing Psychiatry for decades.

“Ask him!” Mrs. Benzetti rolled her eyes towards her husband.

“Every time she opens her mouth, I want to stick something in it to shut her up. I can’t stand the sight or sound of her,” Mr. Benzetti growled.

“Ha!” She spoke a laugh.

“What do you mean?” The doctor asked.

“Unable to perform,” she whispered.

Dale slumped in his chair.

“A woman needs attention. I was spoiled to the compliments and praise…. It ceased, made me feel worthless and unwanted. I quit trying because he stopped caring.”

Dale let out a sigh. “I’ve always been a provider, protector. I’m older – tired.”

“Your marriage needs rejuvenation,” The doctor opened a supply closet and emerged with two tiny white pills. “Follow me,” he lead the couple into an adjacent room, a peaceful rendition of a forest, filled with trees and flowers. “Take one of these and sit quietly for at least an hour.”

They agreed.

Dr. Saxini left the room.

“This place is beautiful! So are you!” Dale took a handful of his wife’s hair and ran it underneath his nose. “You smell like heaven.”

“I want to yell but not out of anger,” Teresa opened her mouth wide. Their laughter couldn’t be contained.

“Look at that tree, glowing oranges, forbidden fruit. Let’s try it.” Dale reached to grab a couple.

“Those aren’t oranges,” Teresa jumped into her husband’s arms, smothering him with kisses.

“They’re not!” Dale chuckled.

“I’ve missed you!” They said in sync.

Straightening their clothing, they exited the room. “We’ll take the same appointment next week.” Dale said.

“Every week,” Teresa took her husband’s hand.

They strolled back into love or whatever it’s called.

Back to the beginning….

“That’s nothing! You should see the New Year’s celebration back in Birmingham.” Landon’s feet hung off the pier and into the water. He kept his knee high socks on, the ones with the two red rings around the top. He once told his mother they gave him luck when he hit the ball off the tee, funny thing, he never made it to first base, not in sports or life in general. At thirty-two years old, he made friends on the internet and visited them when invited.

“Sooooo, Landon, what will you do now that your chaussettes are soaking with gruesome river water?” Leo, his latest friend and by far, most entertaining, chuckled at the man’s silliness.

“What is a shaw-set?” Landon’s smile diminished. “Are you making fun of me, ole chap?” He didn’t understand Leo’s lesson in French. Landon tossed the blue raspberry slushy he was sipping on directly into Leo’s face.

“Why did you do that? Socks! I was saying socks in French!” Leo wiped his face with the handkerchief he kept tucked away in his pocket. Before he could get both eyes clean and back open, Landon had his hands wrapped around his neck. The loud firework’s covered up Leo’s frantic, yet muffled screams for help. It wasn’t long before Leo’s lifeless body splashed helplessly into the water.

Back at Leo’s apartment, Landon made a few wire transfers from his latest victim’s account and booked his flight back home. “Time to make a new fwend.” Each kill took his already child-like state back a few years. His mother couldn’t figure out what attracted the worldwide web to her son. Locked in a basement back in Bama, there was nothing she could do about it – her hands were tied.

It was the last day of school before Christmas break. The children had just finished celebrating with their classmates, eating candy and decorating ornaments. A great time was had by all.

The first-graders were allowed fifteen minutes of free time to alleviate some of their sugar-fueled energy.

The door to the playground flung open, out walked Ms. Bigsby – her hair was long and black, tinted with coarse gray. Her nose stretched to the limit like Pinocchio’s after a lie, a storybook wart sat right on the tip. It gave all the kids the willies. “Recess is over!” She yelled at the top of her lungs. Her wiggling tonsils were visible from across the yard.

Sally and Barney sat close together on a wooden bench by the swings. Their little legs swayed back and forth not long enough to reach the ground. “We’d better go,” Barney put his candy cane down next to Sally’s, connecting the two to form a heart. “I hope Santa is good to you, Sally,” he jumped to the ground, twisting his ankle on impact. Tears formed in his eyes. “I can’t move.”

“I’ll get Ms. Bigsby,” Sally grabbed the red ball covered with jewels. She’d made it especially for Barney. She leaned down, gave it to him, then kissed his forehead. “Merry Christmas, Barney.”

“Ms. Bigsby, Barney’s hurt!” she ran towards the teacher.

“Go to class!” I’ll take the rodent to the office so he can call his mother.

Later that evening, Ms. Bigsby cackled as she stirred her giant pot of bubbling roux. Barney held tight to the black metal bars that held him prisoner in Ms. Bigsby’s secluded cabin. “I want my mommy,” he cried.

“There’s no place like home for the holiday’s.” Ms. Bigsby sang along with a small FM radio she kept on the mantle next to her spices.

Eight long and weary months away, my mind had weakened along with my body. The treacherous journey over the backside of Giovanni’s ridge was a brutal one. The wind was heavy, carrying with it the stench of burned enemy towns. I left my Princess to defend her, to defend our home, our land, to secure a future for our offspring, the first of which nourished within her belly.

The thump from each beat of my heart sent me bravely on, sweat poured from my brow as the roof of the castle came into view. I fell to my knees, belting out a horrific scream of doom, clawing at my forehead unable to bridle my brain. Maybe she survived what appeared to be a brutal attack upon my Father’s legacy, a fortress of strength and power left without protection.

The entrance was dark, mounds of fallen wall formed around me. I breathed in – heavily. My wife, my baby, those who cared for her, gone, murdered by savage beasts with a desire to take that which did not belong to them.

I dropped my belongings and ran. I ran with everything left in me. My sandals fell apart, leaving my bare feet to meet the rock covered path. I felt nothing but determination.

A barely audible cry called out from the rubble. My aching hands grabbed and tossed stone after stone from the pile. There in the midst of the decay, she released my tiny soldier from her grip and called my name for the last time.

Every Sunday, we met at the little brick church, the one over on Warf Street and Columbus Ave. where the water met the sky. The preacher’s sermons were quick. Once, he merely said, “Jesus wept,” dropped the mic and immediately passed the collection plate. That was the congregation’s biggest offering to date.

Me and Tilly, sat in the back pew, belting out Amazing Grace until Tilly got a text from her older brother. “We gotta go,” she leaned over and whispered. I didn’t ask any questions. I got up and followed her out.

“If my momma…”

“Hush,” Tilly stopped me mid-sentence. “Listen,” she said. The waves let off a violent crashing sound, almost ear-piercing, but not nearly as loud as the wailing coming from the passengers of the old ship that rocked up and down as it neared the shore.

“What is that? Who are those people?” I asked.

“Mid-century bloodsuckers. My brother sent me this text,” she held her phone close to my face.

“How would he know?” I never trusted Tristan, I couldn’t believe his nonsense now.

“Him and Tommy Clox were over on the other side of town, fishing for crappy off the pier. The boat floated by, one of those creatures jumped off, swam towards them at warp speed. No time to react, Tommy was ripped to shreds.”

“Whatever,” I kicked a few rocks, spun around, and headed back into the church.

“Where you girls running off to?” Pastor Phillpe’s head fell frontwards, unrealistically still, his fangs shot out, he bounced back with force, reaching for the two of us.

We ran with the strength of a million horses.

It was impossible to match his speed.

The End…..

He peeped his little head around the perfectly rectangular shrubs. The maze had been created on the grounds of the family estate back in the early nineteenth century. Every child that visited the home spent hours lost in its amazement.

His grandfather hobbled towards him, leaning heavily on his four legged cane. “Come here, boy! Don’t you run from your old Pa,” he grinned at the child’s cuteness, revealing his lack of a front tooth that had been filled in by a piece of white chiclet gum. He couldn’t have imagined becoming a grandfather for the first time at the old age of seventy-nine but his daughter insisted.

“See if you can find me,” the youngster, giddy with excitement tripped over his own shoelaces before disappearing from the old man’s sight.

“Theodore,” he called for the child. “Theodore,” he stopped to cough. “Theodore.”

The bushes began to rattle, leaves fell to the ground and a low growl crept from inside the shrubbery.

The old man slowly pulled apart the tiny branches, and leaned in for a look. “Theodore,” he said once more.

“Pa!” Theo jumped from his hiding spot and onto his grandfather knocking him violently down. His head hit the ground, split open and an ocean of red travelled down the secluded path. Theodore clapped with excitement as he latched onto his grandfather’s neck and sucked the remaining life from his veins.

The old man drifted out of consciousness, his last thought, “Oh, to be young again.”

🧡

“I see a White House and I want to paint it orange.” said more than half, now look at the path.

Vegetation surrounding; healthy and flourishing, while children and babies lack essential nourishing.

A home wrecker since way back when. His own home demolished from lustful sin. “Take that man, shave his head, and shackle his feet. He must be a criminal, looks nothing like me.”

“Sir, he has children, I think maybe three.”

*Fake coughs.* “What’s that got to do with Big Dad-E?”

“Their future is already ruined, very dark and grim. Excuse me while I get, I mean, paint some trim.”

Boots on the ground, all internal enemies on deck. “Do as I say or there’ll be no paycheck.”

“This is the home of the brave and the free. You can join this country for a hefty fee.” *Smiles real big and waves to the crowd * “These guys love me, listen to their cheers, never been anything so loud.”

“Money can’t buy love but take notice of what I have. Swift understands, look, that girl got Trav.”

“It’s all a conspiracy, I’m nothing like what I say.” “Oh, you believed me? I was having a bad day.”

*Smacks own hand.* “Play nice with others, you’re being mean.”

*Clears throat.* *Voice squeaks as he sings.*

“Wait… what’s the next line… Let freedom ring!”

“2028.” *Fist bumps the air* “I’ll be your king!”

Lightning strikes, JESUS appears, shakes his head, is moved to tears.

“I am your king. What steered you wrong? Family issues, no love at home?”

Falls to his knees, looks up to the Lord. “I can’t find it anywhere, do you see my comb?”