“Cut! No! No! No! The dress is all off Chantel! The black and white plaid isn’t doing anything for this scene! Wouldn’t one think he needs a big winter coat? We are trying to make the viewer imagine cold, Chantel! Brrrrr… Cold!” He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me close as if he were warmth itself. The smell of his stale cologne gagged me. I ducked downwards to get out from under his grip. A piece of my hair got caught on his Casio watch band. “Ouch!” I said in a whisper hoping he didn’t hear me. He was one of the greatest producers in Hollywood. I knew I was lucky to work for him.

“What is this? What is this?” He stormed over to the rock wall that held up part of the bridge. All of the crew stood there puzzled, unsure of what his new problem was. He reached his hand under the first stone. “This was not supposed to be anywhere in this film!” He held up a slimy, spotted, tan colored serpent. It moved sluggishly from the cold. I shivered from fright, stuttering to find the words to tell him it wasn’t a prop. The Cast members watched in amazement, I even heard a snicker or two. The snake reared his head back and struck. I was beyond sick of Lucifer and the way he treated people. My troubles disappeared with the Cobra’s bite.

Screaming in agony, the producers eyes turned fire red, he tumbled down the ravine into the pits of hell. I was jarred back to the moment when I heard the clapperboard. . . “Yes, Sir. I will try my best to make everything perfect. I’ll do better.” I drug out my words and then curtsied as I walked off. After all, can’t a girl dream? Maybe one day, I will write my own film.

“You are a dancing machine.” I held on to my grandmother’s aged hand and moved my waist from side to side slowly with her.” She nearly broke a bone once trying to do the Twist. Chubby Checker was internationally known and a favorite at this event.

I accompanied Me-Me to the Senior Gala they held every year in Stockholm. This was our third time here.

Her smile pleased me more than anything in this world. 

Sure, we ate the finest of foods and danced to the greatest of oldies. But the real treat came just before sunset.

The servers clad in black suits and white gloves carefully carried their sterling silver trays around to each elderly person in attendance offering them a small communion cup full of a glowing pink substance that would cause them to regain their youth but for only a couple of weeks. They were beyond happy to ingest it. My grandmother slurped up the last drop to the point of trying to inhale it.

I would leave after they crowned a King and Queen of wisdom as would the others that didn’t qualify for the service. Me-Me would stay there running, jumping, dancing, playing, all the things she embraced as a young person. I let my thoughts take me away from the veranda, picturing her as a girl.

In horror, I was brought back to my surroundings by the agonizing screams of the attendees. They were dodging something that I could not see, moving as fast as their bodies would allow, some falling to the ground, lying there, appearing to play dead.

I grabbed one of the waiters by his neck and flung him up against the brick wall. I held him there lifted a bit from the ground. “What was in that? What was in that? This was not supposed to happen!” I screamed.

He shook his head “No” unable to understand my English.

“Trevor.” Me-Me used her cane to hobble closer to me. “Trevor.” She cried, tugging at my shirt tail to get my attention. If anyone had the strength to stay focused, it was my Me-Me.

“It’s the tree. He’s trying to grab us all with his arms.”

 

He wanted to buy the painting I listed for sale online. He lived locally and we agreed he could pick it up from my apartment downtown. There was always someone coming or going, I didn’t feel anxious about meeting him there.

I stuck to the idea, the higher the price tag, the larger the desire to purchase. It made people think they were getting something extravagant. He was undoubtedly one of those people.

“Five thousand dollars. It’s one of a kind, a rarity.” I had three of them, unbeknownst to him.
He felt the number was fair and thus we made a deal.

I daydreamed of a vacation and a few new duds to take on the trip. 

The door buzzer rang, I pressed the intercom and told him I would be there in a sec. I carefully toted the painting, tilting it sideways to prevent it from hitting the railing as I maneuvered down the stairs.

Once I reached the bottom, I could see him standing there through the glass door. He was a tall handsome man; his dark hair made his eyes stand out. They were as blue as the sky in the Artwork I carried. He wore a dark gray suit that fit him remarkably, black leather shoes and a tie to match.

On the road behind him sat a Camry, the driver seat broken and leaning back in a permanent horizontal position – hideous! I looked both ways down the street to see what he was driving, could be the Range Rover a block away. Surely, it was his. The two of them seemed to fit together perfectly.

“Chloe?” He asked. 

“Yes.” I held my hand out to shake his. He instead reached in his coat pocket pulling out an envelope – the cash I presumed.

He handed it to me as I prepared to give him his new asset.

“You’ve been served.” He wished me a lovely day and then drove off in his Toyota.

I ran through the forest and danced in the trees.

The smell of Toasted Acorn & Oak brought me to my knees.

Children’s laughter made all the lights beautifully glow.

I crept to the fence, looking at the town below.

One by one they knocked at the doors.

Candy in waves hitting like Dice on the shores.

How could I sneak and how could I steal?

The Scary Goodness that would be my next meal.

A Paranormal Pumpkin gave me a ride.

I sipped on Orchard Apple & Spice, to the driver I lied. 

I’m headed to town to watch the show, 

A Nightmare before Christmas, now hurry up let’s go.

I let out a cackle and covered my mouth.

I tried to hide my identity, but the secret was out. 

“Oogie Boogie” you can’t hide, I know that’s you.”

“Take this caramel apple and let that do.”

“Leave those kids alone, there’s fun to be had.”

“Your Ghostly Greetings will just make things bad.”

I cried a single tear and decided to wait. 

I’ll visit the Christmas Cottage when they open the gate.

By: Leesa Fort

The call came in a little after 6:30 pm. It was a Tuesday. The Summer heat in this East Tennessee town was sweltering.

“We’ll be out there soon.” I told Tom Sells. His five-year-old daughter had gone missing.

No way a child got abducted up on those mountains. I’m sure she was just out exploring the rugged terrain like all the local kids did; big and small. They knew not to wander too far from home.

She’d be back, or we’d find her. No need to put up a roadblock, I told the deputies. There’s not a stranger one that wouldn’t go unnoticed in these parts.

Took us about thirty minutes to get there. Tom wasn’t home yet; He’d made the call from a work site an hour away. The mom told us, her service was spotty, so she asked him to call. I did find that odd.

The Grandmother lived on the property in an old run-down trailer. Lana Sells and her mom went down there to help Granny with a medical issue. Granny gave Lana a treat and then the girl wanted to go back up to house with her brothers. We even questioned what kind of “candy” it was.

Mom said she watched her all the way, the boys even seen her come in and go downstairs to play. The basement door was unlocked.

It had only been a good two minutes since she was last seen.

We combed the area inch by inch for weeks. Law enforcement from all over joined in, not a single sign of that little girl. When we did bring out the dogs, they lost scent at the end of the driveway.

We investigated the parents, they had just about as many problems as any of the others up on that hill. We couldn’t prove a thing. Country folks look out for each other, couldn’t accept the idea that one of them would hurt a child no matter how long their criminal history was.

We had many a prayer vigil down at the church. All we knew to do was pray.

Two months later we found one of her baby dolls on the side of a creek bed about a mile away. We didn’t find anything else.

It’s been four months now and still no sign of Lana Sells.

I dozed off on the couch watching an old episode of The Andy Griffith show. It was my Husband’s turn to cook. I was lucky to get the one night off. The smell of bacon jarred me from my slumber. He loved to make breakfast for dinner.

The weather was beautiful at the Lake house. The sky a perfect blue. My own Father called it a waste of money. We considered it a lifesaving yearly escape from the hustle and bustle of the city. We spent most every fall here.

“Where’s Caroline?” I asked as I yawned not yet ready to embrace alertness. Her scream broke the silence. My Husband and I both darted out of the house nearly tripping over our own feet. My heals dug into the dirt and grass. We slid a ways more then came to a halt on the very edge of the earth. Roger threw out his arms to prevent me from falling into the water.

Frantically, I looked around for Caroline. She wobbled, unsteady on her feet, managing to make her way over to her Daddy. She wrapped her little arms around his leg for security. Her face red and wet with tears. She trembled with fear.

Four small, black crows had us suspended in air by cords. They held us there until they could lasso the ropes around the moon, putting a more permanent hold on our family, our sanity and our property.

“Take Caroline and go in the house.” Roger demanded pointing towards the door. Backing up slowly, he handed me our daughter. “Just stay calm, I can handle this.” He tried to convince me.

“Calm? You want me to be calm? Here we are in such a familiar and horrifying setting. My Dad was right about you!”

I let him have it. It was safe to say no one could hear me yelling. Roger growled in disapproval of my words.

“Let me guess, the mortgage on this place is delinquent? They sent the Repo Crows again! I can’t stand you Roger!” I slammed the door behind me.

I hated to call my dad but, I knew he was the only one that could get us out of this nest of a mess.

She quickly turned in my direction, we made eye contact. Her smile; mesmerizing.

I stumbled as I moved back behind the tall oak to again hide myself. There was a large white tent meant for over three thousand people placed in the center of the field. Puzzling, since records indicated that not many more than one hundred lived there. The compound was spread out over seventeen acres of green, rolling land that once belonged to my ancestors – It was a curse to know of its existence. It was even worse to believe in the rhetoric taught there. “The Mansion” as it was called, had a pristine location next to the fishing pond. He lived there, their minister. The members occupied tiny camping tents placed strategically on the grounds.

She strummed her guitar and sang of sunshine and blue skies. Her eyes glowed with a fierce happiness. I never heard her sing before but today she bellowed loudly to get my attention. She must’ve known I watched her often, leaving my normal, dull life to daydream. Her voice as sweet as the Angels in Heaven, I presumed.

I placed my hands on the rough bark and moved slowly to get another look. She summoned me with a wave. Her movement so graceful, her hand appeared to be floating. I went to her. She patted the dirt ground. I sat beside her. I felt the melody in my heart as I joined her in Amazing Grace.

Had I been so enthralled by her beauty that I didn’t realize we were the only ones here? l sighed loudly, confused by this.

She put her instrument down and snapped the rubber-band she wore on her wrist against her skin – Making a popping noise and leaving her flesh tinted red. “A reminder.” She whispered. “I am my own woman. I am free.” She pointed towards the tent.

Bodies, lifeless laid scattered amongst metal folding chairs. The Cherry wood podium now on its side holding the body of their leader. I screamed in horror as I ran for my life, realizing later that she would have never hurt me.

I sat in bed listening to the news report on the abuse that took place in the commune. The deceased found with money flowing from their pockets and foam coming from their mouths. They were paying for a poison of hope – Not one of them was left alive.

I jumped from my comfort, startled by a knock at my window.

“Come on guys, down here!” Ruben motioned for us. We followed him down the rock steps that led between two brown brick buildings.

The alley way was empty except for a few pieces of litter. A large rat sat nibbling on a half eaten bag of potato chips. Im pretty sure he belched when he looked in my direction.

“In here.” Ruben’s stomach hung from underneath his red and white striped t-shirt when he lifted his arms to bend the metal screen from an old window.

Reluctantly, we followed, carefully sliding into the opening. He wasn’t the mischievous type. The odds of danger seemed low.

Once inside, we walked down a long passage way. My shoes squished from water that had fallen from Rusty pipes above.

I knew where we were. We were in the Butcher shop Ruben’s Dad just closed down. It looked different from the back. Ruben’s eyes lit up when he opened the old lockless freezer door.

“Puzzles.” We said one after another in amazement. Some lined the walls in frames, others neatly completed sitting on old folding tables.

Clumsily, Ruben stumbled backwards, hitting one of the tables and knocking a few of the pieces on the floor.

The sound of heavy footsteps startled us. “Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum, if I’m missing any pieces, even just one, I’ll eat your family and tear you apart, with my bare hands, I’ll rip out your heart.”

We ran as fast as we could out of that place.

Ruben’s brother stuck his head out of the window and yelled towards us. “Ruben, I’m telling Mom when I get home! We only allow Puzzle Masters in this club! I was almost done with the apocalypse puzzle, you worm!”

“Your brother’s such a geek and so are you. He’s the only member of his own club. Puzzle Master fatties.” Jeffery punched Ruben in the stomach and we all ran off laughing.

 

It was Ninety-seven degrees and sunny.

My husband decided to sign us up for the Haunted desert tour while we were here in Arizona for our Grandson’s graduation.

I knew this was a mistake. There was no doubt in my mind he thought it said dessert tour. 

We climbed onto the Aged Lime Green Greyhound bus. The side of it read “Who you gonna call?” next to the picture of a goblin.

I probably wasn’t going to be able to call anyone. Looking across the nearly bare land, I figured service would be spotty.

The beads of sweat running down the driver’s face was another hint a mishap was brewing.

“We can turn back.” I told Carl. He waved the map of scary stops at me and told me this would be fun.

If those aren’t some famous last words.

The engine misfired as we pulled off. 

The ride was entertaining and informative until we hit the Antelope Canyon.

“To your left is Saint Martha’s Cathedral.”

My husband’s smile became insulting. 

“Calm that down a bit, Carl. He ain’t talking about Martha White. There’s no muffins in there.” I laughed.

The guide continued – “Haunted by a Priest who had fallen in love with an orphan by the name of Faith. After luring her to the Ringing loft, He pushed her to a violent death and then hung himself from the steeple. His sin was too great a burden to bear.”

Silence fell over the bus and then it sputtered once more, coming to a halt. Smoke from the exhaust filled the air.

“Well, finish the story.” I said trying to make light of the situation.

“Supposedly, the deceased Priest was able to free himself from the rope that held him. Legend has it, a ghostly figure burned down the place and is said to still roam the desert looking for “his faith.”

A passenger yelled out from behind me. I turned to see a man in a clergy shirt. His face pale, eyes dark and fresh bruises were around his throat. He cried tears of blood.

“I am he. Have you seen my faith?” 

We all screamed in horror as we ran from the bus. I’ve never seen Carl move so fast.

The driver started the raggedy ride back up, laughing hysterically.

“It’s all part of the tour folks. Let’s keep this party rolling!”

Overcome by boredom and the fact the T.V. in the store was stuck on the news, I would step out of the architectural mess I worked in every chance I had. The building was shaped like a camera.

I spent many hours a day cleaning the drive through window to get away from the monotone news casters repeating the story about the woman abducted from Broussard and all the gruesome facts that went along with it.

She left behind three little kids. Law Enforcement said everyone was a suspect at this point.

The loud horn from the 1970 Oldsmobile Cutlass Mr. Reindeer drove jarred me from my thoughts. I couldn’t understand why he chose to drive that old clunker, nor could I believe he still used a 35MM Camera. He had money and plenty of it. He was the councilman of Lafayette Parish.

“Hold on Mr. Reindeer. Let me get back inside.” I gave him a friendly wave. 

“What can I do you for today, Sir?” I asked. 

“You missed a spot.” He chuckled, then his foot accidently hit the gas. That hoss of an engine revved up. I thought for sure he was going to speed out into traffic. 

His laughter ceased immediately.

“Double exposures and a bit of soul cleansing.” He reached for his wallet.

“I’ll have them ready in an hour, pay then. I know you’re good for it.” I turned to type in his information, thinking about what he just said.

“Oh Jayson, I left something on there for you. Do with it what you will.” He grunted, pulling away.

“Creepy old something.” I mumbled.

I rushed to develop the pictures.

Examining each one, I found the roll was filled with Raynelle LeBlanc in different poses, that was her, the missing woman. 

I called the Police and sure enough, they found her clinging to life in a small closet located in his basement. He was lying close to her – bullet through the brain.

I was labelled a hero but, I didn’t feel like one. Pictures were supposed to bring life, these brought the thought of death.

The next day, I turned in my uniform. I didn’t want no part of what others captured anymore.