Penny's Tales

Horror stories, narrations and illustrations by Penny Tailsup
Penny's Tales
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    • Short Christmas Horror Story – Carol’s Christmas Cookies

      Posted at 6:39 pm by Penny Tailsup, on December 24, 2019

      Listen to the narration here! 

       

      Today was the annual holiday potluck. My office doesn’t really do parties, but every occasion gets a potluck;  it’s business as usual except everyone brings food. We work while stuffing ourselves silly. Nothing like working through a stomach ache, right? It’s always a game of food poisoning roulette. 

      Since I was the first one in, I was expected to do the basic set-up. Dutifully, I cleared off the sorting table and got the coffee going. I expected to spend the first thirty minutes of my shift in peace, but it wasn’t to be. The phone started to ring. 

      It’s too early for this, I thought. I answered anyway, putting on my best customer-service voice. At this hour most customers hadn’t had their coffee yet so answering the phone was a crap-shoot. Fortunately, it was only Carol. 

      “Thank god you answered. Can you let me in? My arms are full!”  She always brought enough baked goods for everyone to have seconds and thirds, it was one of the few things I looked forward to.

      “I’ll be right over! Hold on.” I hung up and hurried over to the employee entrance. I yanked open the door and found Carol standing there with a heaping stack of tupperware in her arms. The scent of gingerbread hung around her like a warm Christmas perfume, sweet and inviting.  

      “Let me help you with that. You tried to get it all in one trip, huh?” I carefully grabbed a few of the containers, making sure not to tip them over and walking with her inside. Carol smiled appreciatively, relieved she could finally set everything down.

      I took a peek at the goodies; as expected, gingerbread cookies!  Gingerbread office workers, each one bigger than my hand and intricately detailed. 

      “What do you think?” she asked, puffing out her chest with pride. “I made one for everyone in the office! After I pass these out, I’m out of here though. I’m not working today but I wanted to make sure everyone got theirs.” 

      “Wow!” I admired her handiwork. It only took me a moment to realize that the gingerbread cookies were modeled after our co-workers. I looked eagerly for the one she’d made of me, but I didn’t see one. “These must have taken you forever to make, the details are perfect. No one can top these.” suddenly my crock-pot of meatballs seemed a lot less exciting. Oh well, it wasn’t a competition. As if I could beat Carol’s Christmas cookies!

      By then, my phone started to ring so I hurried back to my desk. I watched Carol pass out her cookies with care, placing them on desks atop pretty poinsettia plates. 

      “Are you going to be open on Christmas?” the customer asked the second I picked up. No hello, only a shrill inquiry. 

      “No, but we will be open as usual on the 26th.” I answered. 

      “What do you mean you won’t be open on Christmas? What if I need help right away? I’ll have to wait?” I gave my scripted answer to the angry customer, distracted and deadpan. By the time the call was done, Carol came over with a smile, bringing the very last cookie over to me. 

      “I’d say it’s too pretty to eat, except he was never really a looker was he?” she said.  I looked down at the gingerbread man. It wasn’t me, it was our boss, Dale.

      “This one’s mine?” I asked tentatively, definitely confused. Maybe there was a mistake? 

      “Of course! How many opportunities do you get to bite your boss’s head off? I wanted to give you the honor.” if Carol sensed my disappointment, she didn’t let on. I looked down at the cookie again, a dense gingerbread man in a cheap suit. Even though the suit had been made with glaze and frosting , I had that impression; cheap, ill-fitting, and grey.  A perfect replica of one of his two suits with a garish Christmas tie. 

      “As long as it doesn’t taste like Dale.” I laughed. To be honest, as perfectly made as the cookie was, I didn’t find it appetizing. Well, I did. It smelled amazing! But there was something off-putting about eating a cookie shaped like someone else, especially Dale.  Then again, it would be just as weird to eat one that looked like me. Cookie cannibalism.

       “You didn’t give him one that looks like me, right?” I shuddered. Now that would be creepy. Dale was a real piece of work, but I had to tolerate him if I wanted to keep my job.

      “Of course not.” Carol assured me. “Could you do me a favor? Wait until everyone else gets in before you eat it. I want everyone to see. I wish I could see the looks on their faces. You’ll tell me, won’t you?”

      “Sure.” I slid the gingerbread away from me. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I was going to eat it or not, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Maybe if I scraped off the decorations first? That seemed equally rude, though.

      “When you eat gingerbread cookies, are you the kind of person to go for the head… or the arms and legs first? Or maybe you pull off the decorations one-by-one?” she asked suddenly; Carol wasn’t looking at me when she asked, she was looking towards Dale’s office.

      What a weird question! Especially coming from her. When she saw the look on my face, Carol laughed  and patted my shoulder. “Sorry, I was just having a funny thought. There’s a little sadist in everyone, isn’t there?”

      “Excuse me?” 

      Grabbing her empty Tupperware, Carol gave me a wink and wished me a Merry Christmas. She left, leaving me alone in the office. I kept eyeing the Gingerbread Dale, still feeling a bit weird about it. Weird, but also…  hungry. The cookies smelled divine, which was odd considering I’d never been a huge fan of gingerbread.

      About ten minutes later, the rest of my co-workers trickled in. They complained about how tired they were, morning traffic, and the holidays. Of course, the bellyaching became exclamations of delight when they discovered the cookies set neatly on their desks. 

      Everyone started showing one another their cookies and taking pictures, marveling at the perfect detail. Patti’s cookie had her trademark beehive up-do and pearls, Marc’s cookie was bearded with squared glasses, Bette’s had electric blue eye shadow and dimples… though the outfits weren’t an exact match, the resemblances were uncanny. Eventually, the clamor died down and everyone sat at their desks. All except Patti, who scurried over to my desk with a wide smile.

      “I didn’t see yours.” she said, showing me hers for the second time. She carried her plate proudly in both hands, like she was presenting a piece of art. To be fair, Carol’s work really was exquisite… I just didn’t like Patti.

      Patti’s eyes moved to the plate I’d set away from me. My cookie wasn’t like everyone else’s, which suddenly seemed like a problem.  “Oh. It looks like Dale… Is it yours?” she scrunched her face at me, somehow managing to keep the smile. I didn’t like her insinuation.

      “Yes, it’s mine.”

      Did she really think I’d scarfed down my cookie and stole another one off my boss’s desk?  Really? 

      “Why doesn’t it look like you, then?” Oh yes, the insinuation was still there. A bitter anger spread across my tongue, but I fought to keep my voice level and my face flat. It was weird that I was the only one with a cookie that looked like someone else, but I didn’t make them. It wasn’t up to me.

      “Carol thought it would be funny, that’s all.”  

      “Carol? But… wasn’t she fired yesterday?” Patti’s expression scrunched up even more. Her hands moved up to her pearls, fidgeting with the long strand. Sometimes I wondered if she wore pearls just so she could clutch them. 

      “Uh, no? Wouldn’t a memo have gone out if she was?” I turned my attention back to my work. I hoped Patti would get the hint and go away but she just stood there for a long moment. Sucking in a deep, dramatic breath… she picked her plate off my desk, staring hard at the Gingerbread Patti. 

      “Didn’t you make these?” she asked slowly.

      “No, I brought the meatballs. Why would you think I made them?” I answered, not looking up. I pretended to read an email. Patti was being nosy, as usual;  I’d never liked that about her. She didn’t have anything better to do, I guess. Except for the work she let pile up, but if I said that she’d complain to Dale. Patti was his favorite for some reason, so I’d probably get written up for ‘not being a team player’. Like a lot of offices around the world, this one was toxic. 

      “I’m not sure if this is okay. I’ll be right back.” Patti said, unaware of my rude thoughts. I looked up when she said that, unable to help myself. She didn’t explain, pivoting towards Dale’s office. To tell on me? Or Carol? I honestly wasn’t sure. Either way, it was a headache for me.

      She reappeared in the doorway with Dale a moment later. They both made a bee-line straight for my desk, their expressions a lot more serious than a cookie called for. Great. I pretended not to notice, busying myself with a stack of fresh paperwork. 

      Before they reached me, there was a loud cracking sound and a scream. Every head in the room whipped in the direction of the sound to find Robert tears running down his face. All I could see was his eyes poking up from his workstation, expression twisted and red.  “My arm!” he screamed. “Oh my god! It won’t move!”  

      A couple co-workers ran over to see what happened. I reached for my phone instead, ready to call 911 if an ambulance was needed. Patti and Dale changed course, but everyone looked confused. How on earth had Robert hurt his arm while sitting at his desk? Carpal tunnel?

      Now’s your chance, came an errant thought.

       My eyes slid towards the Gingerbread Dale. It looked perfectly palatable on that pretty poinsettia plate.

      Hurry! Before they confiscate it. 

      Now wasn’t the time to worry about cookies, but… my tongue tingled with anticipation and my teeth itched with the urge. 

      Just one small bite. The thought was strange, almost like it wasn’t mine… but very compelling. The gingerbread man was heavier than I expected. I lifted it to my lips and bit off one of the feet. It crunched in stereo, unusually loud as the foot snapped off and began to melt on my tongue. Delicious.

      A rush of delight washed over me, brought on by a flood of flavor that drowned out Dale’s cursing screams. He’d fallen, rocking back and forth on the floor. He must have twisted his ankle in his haste to check on Robert. How unlucky. Two injuries in one day?

      A chorus of oh-my-gods rang through the office, but I set down my phone so I could hold the Gingerbread Dale with both hands. Without even thinking, I took another bite– nibbling up the leg before switching to the other foot. The screaming kept getting louder, filling the room.

      The gingerbread had such a rich and complex flavor; ginger, cinnamon, allspice, cloves… and something else. Was it earthy? Or maybe it was the texture? Soft and velvety, yet dense and crunchy. Wow, so much screaming. All over carpal tunnel and a sprained ankle? 

      Annoyed, I glanced around the room to find that almost everyone was screaming. The ones who weren’t screaming were chewing with blissed out looks on their bloody faces or slumped over their desks. 

      Confused, I touched my own wet mouth and looked down at my red fingers. I wasn’t in any pain. Had Carol put glass in the batter or something? Where was the blood coming from? Why was everyone still eating?

      Because they can’t help themselves. 

      I couldn’t help myself either. Without realizing it, I’d eaten half of the Dale cookie and found myself going in for another bite. Horrified, I dropped the cookie– the gingerbread snapping in half as it hit the floor. 

      Dale, curled up on the carpet, was suddenly still and quiet. Patti was right next to him on the floor, but she didn’t seem to notice– chewing frantically with glazed eyes, gingerbread crumbs and blood running down her chin. Only when her mouth was empty did she resume screaming again. She rolled, and started eating her cookie off the carpet. 

      The spell the cookie cast on me had broken with my Boss’s spine. He was dead, and with each quieted scream… a co-worker joined him in death. I was the last one standing, the last one screaming. Soon, I was standing in perfect silence. No more screams. No more chewing. 

      Only then was I able to move. I grabbed my keys and ran out of the office. Maybe I should have called the police, but I didn’t know what I was going to tell them. That Carol’s Christmas cookies had killed everyone but me? That I’d chewed my boss to death with a voodoo gingerbread man? I couldn’t come up with a logical explanation in my state of pure panic. Even though my voice had broken, my thoughts kept screaming. 

      I ran through the snowy parking lot and found my car. I’m not sure why I ran, no one was chasing me. There was no one who could. Before I could jump into my car and drive away… I noticed the little red gift bag sitting on the hood of my car. Across the front, written in glitter, were the words ‘Merry Christmas from Carol!’

      I was terrified but looked inside the bag anyway. As I feared, there was a cookie. My heart thudded in terror, but I felt compelled to examine it. In spite of my dread, I started to salivate, clenching my teeth together. Even after what I witnessed, I wanted to eat it.

      The cookie wasn’t me.  It was Carol. Carol, down to the outfit she’d worn that very morning– except for the ‘Sorry’ piped across her sweater in red. I swallowed the bloody spit in my mouth, reaching back into the gift bag. There was a Christmas card inside. 

      Still holding the Gingerbread Carol, I opened it up. A key was taped to the glitter card stock, along with a simple message:

      Merry Christmas! 

      There’s a Gingerbread Office in my apartment. If you smash it, everyone will think the roof collapsed. That should explain all the broken bones. Don’t worry, no one will find me. 

      P.S.

      You were always kind to me, that’s why I spared you. I hope you’ll do me one more kindness, and make it quick.

      Love,

      Carol

      I closed the card, tucking it back in it’s envelope and sitting in my car. I looked down at the cookie still in my hand. My tongue tingled; my teeth itched. I didn’t want to do it, but I had to. I bit off Carol’s Gingerbread head.

      It tasted like gingerbread and death. 

       

      Posted in Short Stories [Horror] | 0 Comments | Tagged christmas, cookies, creepy, curse, gingerbread, horror, nosleep, office, scary, scary story, short story, workplace horror
    • [Short Horror Story] My Family Was Cursed With A Demon … Now It Wants Blood.

      Posted at 1:36 am by Penny Tailsup, on October 30, 2019

      PART ONE

      PART TWO

       

      “My Family Was Cursed With A Demon … Now It Wants Blood.”

      by Penny Tailsup

       

      This is PART THREE of the story: “My Family Was Blessed with an Angel… I Think It Was a Curse.”

       

      “You’re ungrateful.”

      Mother sat on my dresser. She opened one of the top drawers, pulling out a sock to dab delicately at the corners of her bloody mouth. Her naked body was smeared in congealed blood, blackened with age and stinking of rot. She’d been dead for awhile now.

      Strapped to her back was a pair of angel wings. They were fake; I could see the elastic straps over her bare shoulders. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but I must have.

      “I gave you a gift. You’re spitting on it. Spitting on me.”

      I’d been trying not to sleep for exactly this reason. My family’s “angel” is trying to break me. I know it’s not really Mother on the dresser. I know because her shadow isn’t her shadow. If I look directly at it, I see a frail woman with cardboard wings– but if I look at it from the corner of my eye, I see something else. I couldn’t tell you what I see, but it’s not Mother.

      “Go away, I’m sleeping.” I tell it. Even knowing it’s not her, it hurts to say that. “I’m not falling for it.” I closed my eyes tightly, willing her away. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing over the bathroom sink.

      I wasn’t surprised. I turned on the tap, splashing my face with cold water before brushing my teeth. Lately, I seem to wake up anywhere but my own bed. I haven’t seen the sword since the night at Grandma’s house. I’m not sure if I imagined it.

      “Sleep well?” the demon asked, knowing I hadn’t. I ignored it, washing up and getting ready for the day. I walked back into my bedroom to change. On top of my dresser, I saw a white sock with a dark stain. Choosing to ignore it, I put on my school uniform.

      As I walked down the hall, I paused at Mother’s bedroom door. Father doesn’t sleep in there anymore, I don’t blame him. I hadn’t been inside the room since discovering her death. I’d been putting off the inevitable– I needed answers, and I might find some in that room.

      Hesitant, I turned the door handle and peered through the crack. The walls had been repainted and the carpets replaced. The stink of rotting blood must have been my imagination, because the space was immaculate. In fact, it seemed like the soul of the room had been stripped away. Mother’s things were still there, but the ‘lived in’ feel was gone. Her bedroom looked staged, like a picture in a magazine.

      Stepping inside, I felt like an intruder. I was “allowed” there, but it felt wrong. I walked over to the nightstand on Mother’s side and opened the drawer. I found a Bible, a key, and a tin of cinnamon breath mints. The key was attached to a little silver coin with “James 1:22” engraved on it. It wasn’t one of the verses I had memorized, the Contis had their favorites but this wasn’t one of them. I picked up the Bible, flipping through it and finding the verse:

      “But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves.” I read aloud. I felt the demon laugh as I closed my fingers around the key. The verse seemed appropriate for the Conti family who selectively read passages and acted holier-than-thou.

      Mother, how much did you know?

      She wasn’t there to give me an answer, yet the bloody image of her flashed across my mind. I didn’t know what to think or how to feel. With the burden of the demon’s shadow, I had little time to mourn or have an existential crisis.

      I took off my cross necklace, hooking the key through the delicate gold chain. I put it back on, tucking it beneath my buttoned blouse. I wasn’t sure what the key went to, but I had an idea.I could only think of one locked door: Grandpa Deangelo’s study.

      I only knew about it because Grandma had complained about the missing key, though she couldn’t bring herself to get a locksmith and violate her late husband’s privacy. His study must have been collecting dust in the years since his death. Had Mother held the key all this time?

      Of course, to confirm my suspicions I’d need to go back to Grandma’s house. I was still angry at her for lying to the police about Father’s involvement in Mother’s death, but I couldn’t avoid her forever.

      I looked around the room for a few more minutes. Unfortunately for me, Mother didn’t have a diary filled with her innermost secrets. At least, if she did… I didn’t find it. I had little insight over what happened to her, or how she truly felt about the Glory or the Conti Cult.

      I needed answers about her death, too. The police hadn’t arrested Father for her murder or assisted suicide, but I couldn’t help but wonder. The demon had planted the seeds of doubt in my heart. Unfortunately, those doubts had taken root…

      “You saw what happened, didn’t you?” I asked the demon. The undulating shadow behind me “perked up” with my acknowledgment. I rarely addressed it, I didn’t trust the “family angel”. In fact, I knew it was dangerous to ask it anything.

      “Of course I saw.” it answered. “I could tell you, if you’d only ask.” there was a condition implied with those words. It would tell me, for something in return.

      “No… Never mind. You’d lie to me.”

      “Maybe I would,” it admitted, “but maybe I wouldn’t. If you want to be sure… Honesty can be bought, paid in blood.” this answer should have shocked me more than it did. Maybe I was too tired to react.

      “I’m not going to kill anyone, nice try.”

      The bedroom door opened, startling me. I didn’t hear the demon’s reply. It was Angelo. He saw me standing there, seemingly alone.

      “I heard you,” he said. “I thought it was Mother, but it was only you.” he looked disappointed, but I couldn’t blame him.

      “Mother is in Heaven.” I reminded him. At least, I knew that was what I was supposed to say. I wasn’t sure where Mother was. Even confronted with the truth of our “family angel”, I couldn’t confidently declare my faith. I was still an atheist. If Heaven exists, I don’t know that a demon-touched Conti could pass through Heaven’s gates anyway.

      “Generations of Conti Hypocrites are in Hell.” the Demon corrected, but I put little stock in such claims. Fortunately, Angelo couldn’t hear him.

      “Right… Who were you talking to?” my brother asked, giving the room a suspicious sweep.

      “I was praying.” Angelo had no reason to question me, though the demon laughed at my audacious lie. I hated it when he laughed; the demon’s mirth gave me an awful sense of gravity.

      “Yes, pray to me. I’d feel generous if you did.” the demon said, “Coming from you, it would be better than blood. The prayer of an atheist… has entertainment value, at least.”

      “Whatever,” Angelo answered, unaware of the demon or his baiting words. “Pray at the table, will you? We can’t eat breakfast without you. Hurry up, we’re going to be late for school.” he stomped down the stairs ahead of me.

      Father and Angie were already at the table. I took my seat next to Angelo and we all joined hands. I bowed my head, but I only pretended to pray. After a few minutes of eating cereal in silence, I looked to my father.

      “May I borrow Mother’s car?” I asked.

      “What for?” hearing any mention of Mother always made Father flinch, but his face only stiffened for a moment.

      “I wanted to go to the mall after school.” I lied.

      “Where are you really going?” the Fallen asked, taking great delight in the lie. He always reacted when I lied, which… was often, lately. Hiding my status as the Glory Holder was making things hard, but I was still convinced it was the right thing to do.

      I wasn’t going to the mall. I needed to go to Grandma’s house. I needed to know if the key would get me into Grandpa Deangelo’s study. I planned on sneaking in the back door, and get in and out without Grandma even noticing.

      I didn’t really need to sneak. Grandma would let me in… But I was still angry with her, and I was a little afraid of how angry I’d get if she tried to justify her actions again.

      “I want to go to the mall too.” Angelo said, taking me by surprise. “I’m tired of standing around the house being sad.”

      “Very well,” Father replied. “You can borrow the car, if you pick your brother up after school and take him with you.”

      “Actually, I–”

      “What about me?” Angie interrupted, feeling left out. “I want to come too!”

      “Angie too.” Father amended. When I opened my mouth to protest, he shot me a look that brooked no argument. “Spend some time with each other. It’ll be good for all of you…”

      When he put it like that, I couldn’t say no. After breakfast, Father brought me the keys and a crisp hundred dollar bill.

      “See a movie or something, get all the snacks you want. Have fun, you kids need it.” he said, kissing me on the forehead. I wasn’t in the mood for fun… I also wasn’t a kid anymore, but I understood what he was trying to do. I couldn’t spit on the gesture.

      …

      After an uneventful school day, I picked up my brother and sister. I had been resigned to waste an evening at the mall, but my desire to get into Grandpa Deangelo’s study had been eating at me all day. Last minute, I made a hasty decision and changed course to Grandma’s house.

      I parked down the block so Grandma wouldn’t see Mother’s car and told my siblings to wait for me. My half-assed excuse?

      “I forgot something, I’m going to run in and grab it. I’ll be right back. Ten minutes!” of course, I couldn’t do much sleuthing in ten minutes, but they had their phones so maybe they wouldn’t even notice.

      “Are you going to offer blood payment?” the demon asked. The question made my skin crawl, dread pitting my stomach. I didn’t hate Grandma that much! The thought of pushing her down the stairs had been a fixture of my nightmares lately, though I blamed the demon’s influence for that. As far as I knew, Contis weren’t in the habit of making blood payments, but given the true nature of the “family angel”… I couldn’t be sure.

      I entered the house through the side door. Fortunately, I didn’t see Grandma, but I could hear the television playing loudly from the living room. If she caught me, fine, but I preferred not to deal with her.

      Grandpa Deangelo’s study was on the first floor by the dining room. When I reached it, I tried the knob. Locked. I pulled the key out from under my shirt, and sure enough… it fit. Slowly, carefully, I eased the door open.

      The room was dark and dusty. I fumbled for a light switch, carefully pulling the door closed behind me. The study was large, but it felt cramped with all the furniture. Books covered every surface and filled every shelf.

      Hanging on a wall, I saw the Conti family tree. At the very top were the names Alessandro and Epifania Conti. After their names, I saw the familiar angelic naming conventions that Blood Contis all seemed to have. Alessandro and Epifania must have been where the curse began.

      There was a void on the desk; a perfect rectangle free of dust. From the size and shape, I guessed it was from a book. Mother might have taken it sometime before her death, though I hadn’t found anything like that in her bedroom. I hadn’t searched the whole house, so that didn’t mean much.

      I sat down at the desk, covering my mouth and nose with my shirt to combat the dust. I thumbed through the books stacked there, stashing promising-looking ones in my backpack. I didn’t have much time with my brother and sister waiting in the car.

      A withered hand touched my shoulder.

      Startled, I jumped to my feet and swiveled to find a corpse. It had decayed beyond all recognition; a dead man with leathery skin that clung in pieces to a dirty skeleton. He was wearing fine Sunday clothes.

      I could feel his stare, though his eyes had rotted away, leaving only dry, black sockets. His lower jaw was completely gone, along with most of his teeth. The corpse moved his arm, making the sign of the cross. He was unable to speak. The movement was slow. An anguished gurgle could be heard, but it came from its body rather than its mouth.

      By some miracle, I wasn’t screaming. Had I fallen asleep at the desk? Was this yet another nightmare?

      “Grandpa Deangelo?” I whispered. Given where I was, that was the most logical guess. The skeletal figure gave a thumbs up in answer. The demon was silent, though his shadow fell separate from the rotting body in front of me. This was different than the nightmares where Mother visited me. There were three shadows in the study.

      “Oh my God!” I cried, falling against the desk. I knocked my head against the corner and crumpled to the floor. I brought a pile of books down with me, and for a moment I thought I’d die under a pile of dusty leather books. I saw what was left of Grandpa Deangelo’s skull leaning over me as the world faded to black.

      …

      When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the study. I was standing at the top of the stairs. My backpack was heavy with books and my uniform was covered in dust. None of that was important.

      At the bottom of the stairs was Grandma’s broken body; a red halo of blood was spreading out from her head and staining her hair.

      “My honesty has been bought, paid in blood. I will answer one question. Shall I tell you how your mother died?” asked the demon.

      Posted in Short Stories [Horror] | 1 Comment | Tagged angels, demons, fiction, horror, nosleep, part three, serafina conti, series, short story
    • [Short Horror Story] My Family Was Blessed with an Angel… I Think It Was a Curse.

      Posted at 6:27 pm by Penny Tailsup, on October 21, 2019

      Spooktober Prompt # 21 – Ancient Angels

      “My Family Was Blessed with an Angel… I Think It Was a Curse.”

      by Penny Tailsup

      I grew up hearing the stories and whispers.

      Our family was blessed with a great honor– a guardian angel. He had a name, but not one we could know. Apparently, it couldn’t be conveyed in a human tongue, so we simply referred to him as what he was: our Guardian Angel.

      My mother could see him, a Glory bestowed on only one person at a time. Before her, it was Grandpa Deangelo. Before him, it was Great Grandma Angela… I’m not sure how far it goes, but I’d never believed the stories.

      I’d always thought the “Guardian Angel” was a way to keep us “Good Christian Children”. Not only was God watching, so was our angel. He could report back, whispering directly in God’s ear. As a chosen family, we had to live as an example to others. We couldn’t only be good, we had to be perfect.

      Because I didn’t believe it, I strayed from the path my family worked so hard to keep us on. I had the sense to keep it secret. I went to church, worked hard in school… but while everyone else believed the story of our Guardian Angel, I didn’t.

      It was too weird. In fact, it seemed unchristian the way our family would worship the angel. We lit candles, prayed, brought offerings and begged him to continue his watch over us. I went through the motions, but I never meant them. I mouthed the words, but didn’t speak them. In a family of devout followers, I was a pretender.

      The fact that no one noticed seemed to prove I was right. If there was an angel among us, one who whispered in God’s ear… Wouldn’t I have been called out? My mother, who was blessed with the sight of the angel, never questioned my beliefs. As long as I went through the motions, nothing aside from divine intervention could have told her different. “Divine Intervention” never saw fit to let her know there was a non-believer in the family.

      Then my mother died. I was the first to know.

      As I groggily got up, I noticed the shadows in the corner of my room. The morning sun flooded in from the window at my back, but there were two shadows instead of one. A scrawny teenager and a much taller figure with jagged edges, sharp angles jutting out from its back like broken glass.

      No… not glass. Wings.

      I spun around, expecting to see it standing behind me– but there was nothing. I looked again at the corner of the room…the second shadow was still there, towering over me.

      “Mortal eyes cannot behold my form.” came a voice. “So I’ve blessed you with the sight of my shadow, to spare your sanity.”

      I knew who… what he was, but I also knew what his appearance meant. My mother had died, and I’d inherited the sight of an angel I never believed in. I refused to believe it, gritting my teeth together and pretending I hadn’t heard the thing.

      When I came down for breakfast, Angelo and Angie were waiting at the table. Of three kids, I was the oldest. Mother was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Father. I wasn’t sure if I should wake him up or not. I didn’t want to be part of the ‘discovery’.

      “Are you okay, Sera?” Angie asked. My little sister noticed that I seemed a bit… checked out. I shook it off, giving a tight smile. Pretend everything is okay. Don’t ruin their day before you have to.

      “I’m fine, just tired.” I made myself smile, making no mention of the jagged darkness making shadows around me. No one else saw them.

      Since breakfast wasn’t already made, I stepped into the kitchen. Today was going to be a bad day, the least I could do was start my siblings off on a happier note. I decided to make pancakes, wondering if I’d ever have a taste for them again after a day like this.

      “Pointless.” said the angel.

      I continued to ignore him until I heard a scream from upstairs. My sister Angie jumped right up to go see, but I stopped her.

      “Watch the pancakes, please. I’ll go check.” she was scared, I was older… and since I had some idea of what to expect, it only seemed right that I go.

      “Are you going to pretend you’re noble now, Unbeliever?” asked the angel.

      I trudged up the stairs. Father came out of the bedroom, quickly closing the door behind him. His striped pajamas were soaked in blood. My father, who I’d never seen cry, fell to his knees and covered his face. The sounds coming out of his mouth, racked with grief, sounded alien.

      “Father, are you hurt?” I knelt in front of him, grabbing his shoulders. The blood staining his clothes felt cold. Not his blood. He didn’t answer me, unable to form words. I wasn’t even sure if he’d heard me. I stood up, stepping past my father and reaching for the door behind him.

      “Don’t go in there.” Father managed to say, voice breaking. “No one should see their mother like that. Go… go downstairs, take your siblings to Grandma’s house.” I froze, indecisive. I didn’t want to see, but it seemed only right that I did. All these years, I secretly thought her a liar. Now her angel was my shadow.

      “Go on,” said the guardian angel who failed to save my mother. “Open the door. She passed unto you a Blessed gift, she named you heir in her last breath. Go on, and honor her sacrifice.”

      Mother had chosen me? The pretender? A bubble of sick, horrified laughter threatened to come up. That, or vomit. My stomach roiled as I slowly turned the handle and pulled the door open. The stench of iron pervaded my senses. The carpet was wet, squishing under my slippers as I stepped inside.

      My father didn’t react in time. Before he could grab me and pull me from the room, I saw everything: the bloody wings my mother had painted across the room with slippery red hands; her still body, collapsed between those wings; her arms open like she was offering a hug. Her wrists were slit vertically, all the way up to her elbows. Worst of all, her face: vacant eyes with an unsmiling mouth. She had not passed on in peace. This tableau of woe spoke volumes about the family Blessing.

      It was a curse.

      Had the pressure of the angel’s presence broken her? I couldn’t imagine living with an angel over my shoulder. If my devoted Christian mother couldn’t, how could I?

      “Suicide is a sin. Your mother was unworthy. Weak.”

      My mother had lived a life devoted to God, there was no one in the world more worthy than her. I refused to believe the angel was right about her, but didn’t dare utter a word. No one else could hear this angel, or see his shadow… and I would never tell anyone what he said about Mother. My family would believe it, coming from the Guardian Angel.

      It took me a few minutes to realize I was standing in the hall. The bedroom door was shut again and Father was shaking me. His bloodshot eyes met mine.

      “I’m sorry you saw that, Sera.” he whispered, “Go downstairs. I’ll call Grandma to pick you kids up, I’ll… stay here. I have to talk to the police, and…” he trailed off, going completely silent when he realized he couldn’t say another word without crying. I hugged him, crying, because there was no other way to react to what I’d seen.

      “It’s okay to cry, Father.” I sobbed. He was a man of pride, but… if there was ever a time to cry, it was now. Unfortunately, the sound of our grief had attracted my sister, who was coming up the stairs with a worried expression.

      “Go back downstairs!” my voice came out a little sharper than intended, but she did as she was told. I wiped my eyes and went into my room, I was covered in blood so I had to change. I took a shower, too wound up to care that the angel had followed me.

      Once I was clean and dressed, I went downstairs. Angie and Angelo were sitting on the couch with blank faces. They knew something was wrong, they knew it had to do with Mother… but they didn’t know what.

      Grandma arrived a few minutes later, but instead of asking about Mother, she asked… “Who inherited our Guardian Angel?” Unlike my father or myself, she did not seem stricken with grief. She was more concerned about our family’s Blessing.

      This angered me, so I clamped my teeth together and said nothing. Besides, having just discovered my “inheritance”, and still coming to terms with everything… I wasn’t sure what to say. I was… AM … an atheist. What kind of sick joke was it, that the angel would be passed to me?

      “I don’t know.” I lied. The angel let out a piercing shriek behind me, that I’d dare tell such a lie– but no one else could hear him. No one else could see his shadow. As far as I knew, there was nothing he could do about it.

      “I’m sure we’ll know soon. We should wait for his guidance.” Grandma said, insultingly calm. Part of me wanted to believe she simply didn’t know what happened, but the fact that she’d asked after the angel was proof she did.

      On the drive to Grandma’s house, the angel hurled insults and threatened me. He was enraged, clearly never expecting to fall into the hands of someone like me. Everyone else in the family must have fallen in line. Generations of Believers. Not me.

      My brother and sister were crying. Grandma’s question had broken the news to them, and it hadn’t been pretty. Her lack of tact infuriated me. Perhaps I could have told her off, citing the authority of the Guardian Angel… but I didn’t want to traumatize them even more. Pretending that Grandma had invoked the angel’s wrath would probably scare them.

      “I won’t stand for your insolence.” the angel’s voice had quieted, but not the anger. I could feel the danger, an underlying current of electrifying blackness. The air tasted of iron and rain. “Do you want to end up like your mother? My patience is limited. She wasn’t worthy. You don’t seem to be either. I suppose it makes sense… she picked you.”

      I couldn’t see the shadow, but I could feel it. The weight of it crushed me, I curled inward, clapping my hands over my ears and fighting back the anger, sorrow and fear. Thunder roared in my ears as I tried not to cry. In the backseat filled with grieving kids, I didn’t stand out. At least there was that. I didn’t have to cry alone.

      …

      We’ve been staying at Grandma’s since Mother’s death. Only Father and I know about the suicide and the bloody wings—Father told everyone that she fell in the tub and hit her head. I don’t know if anyone believes that, but no one has questioned it.

      Aside from my siblings, most of the family only cares about one thing. The family is in chaos, screaming for their Angel. Everyone except Father, who only sits quietly and stares into space. One of these days, someone might step forward to claim the Glory– if only to calm the panic.

      I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet. I know what I’m supposed to do, like everyone before me. It’s not that simple. Maybe it’s because I was never a believer, but I can’t bring myself to believe that’s the right thing to do.

      When I was finally alone with that shadow… I had questions. I turned to face it, the shadows falling on the wall behind me.

      “What kind of angel are you?” I demanded. I had a lot of questions, but I feared this answer most of all:

      “Fallen.” its voice was dripping with smugness, vibrating with amusement; an insulting contrast to my dread.

      My heart dropped, thudding uncomfortably in my stomach. I’d asked because I’d expected that answer, but to have it confirmed…

      Biting my lip, I pressed on:

      “Did Mother know?” In answer, a sinister sound rose up from below. My skin prickled at the electric sensation of its laugh.

      “Of course she knew. Why do you think she picked you?”

      I’d learned a terrible truth, passed down from generation to generation. A truth that was now my burden to bear.

      I wasn’t a believer. I had no choice but believe now. Perhaps that was Mother’s way of saving me.

      “Or she hated you the most.”

      Posted in Short Stories [Horror] | 2 Comments | Tagged angels, creepy, demons, fiction, horror, religious horror, short story, spooktober
    • [Short Horror Story] My Perfect Mattress Came with Rules

      Posted at 2:58 am by Penny Tailsup, on October 10, 2019

      Spooktober Prompt # 10 – Nighttime Nopes

      “My Perfect Mattress Came with Rules”

      by Penny Tailsup

      –

       

      Buying a mattress for the first time is a milestone. It’s a marker of adulthood; an expensive, essential, but unexciting purchase. I’d never bought one before, but I needed to. The mattress I’d dragged from my childhood home had shrieking springs and smelled like wet dog.

      I considered buying a used one off craigslist, but talks of soiled mattresses, bed bugs and possible serial killers was enough to change my mind.

      Well… You know how Facebook magically starts showing relevant ads after you talk about something? That. That’s how I found an ad for an online mattress store I’d never heard of:

      RIGHTSIDEOFTHEBED.COM

      Yes, it was in all caps. I normally ignored ads, but I was shopping for a mattress. I clicked. A pop up jumped out, with more all-caps text in bold red font:

      WE’LL FIND YOUR PERFECT MATTRESS. TAKE OUR QUIZ!

      Uhm… okay. Intrigued and slightly put off, I decided to take the quiz. It seemed pretty standard. What do you look for in a mattress? What brands do you like? Do you prefer firm or soft? Gel or foam? Do you sleep alone? After awhile, text windows appeared with the questions so I could type custom answers. Getting impatient, I kept it short and sweet:

      What hurts in the morning, if anything?

      Headache

      How do you usually feel when you wake up?

      Angry about waking up

      How do you want to feel when you wake up?

      Happy and refreshed I guess

      Anything else you think is important?

      I’m broke

      When I was done, I clicked submit. A message popped up: THANK YOU, ENJOY YOUR NEW MATTRESS. WAKE UP ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE BED! Uhm… what? I poked around the site, but didn’t find product listings. I gave up and forgot it… until two days later, when a mattress was delivered to my door.

      The sender was RIGHTSIDEOFTHEBED.COM, with no return address. This had to be some mistake, because I hadn’t bought anything from that website. I didn’t remember giving my name or address, but I must have. How else would they have sent a package to me?

      There was an envelope stapled to the plastic wrapped tube, MATTRESS RULES stamped across the front. Rules? For a mattress? I opened it, half expecting to find a bill or an enrollment form for some high-interest payment plan. Instead, I found a single piece of paper:

      MATTRESS RULES

      To wake up happy and refreshed every morning, you must:

      1. Pick a side and stick to it. That is your side. Sleep alone.
      2. Keep two fresh glasses of water by the bed.
      3. If you wake up in the middle of the night, don’t leave the bed.
      4. If you’re not alone when you wake up, don’t engage.

      If you don’t follow these rules, you may not be happy and refreshed.

      THANK YOU. WAKE UP ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE BED! PLEASE REVIEW OUR PRODUCT IN 30 DAYS AND TELL US HOW SATISFIED YOU ARE.

      I’d heard of companies sending free products in exchange for reviews… but a mattress? I was so confused. The weird rules made it seem creepy, but also made me really curious about the mattress. Was this a marketing gimmick?

      Eager to find out, I peeled off the plastic and pulled my new mattress out of the tube. The first thing I noticed was the chemical smell– reminiscent of a hospital, like antiseptic and latex. I covered my mouth and nose, coughing. Not a good sign.

      It was heavy, too. I dragged it into my bedroom and swapped it with my old mattress, flattening it out on the box spring and opening the window to air. I noticed a tag on the bottom of my new mattress that said Temper-Peutic, Not Tempur-Pedic. It was made of a grayish pink memory foam, soft to the touch. The top was covered in little foam nubs, like upholstered bubble wrap.

      I dragged my old mattress to the living room, stripping off the bedding and leaning it against the wall. My new mattress was weird, but undeniably nicer than my old one. I washed my blankets and sheets, but my mind kept going back to those weird rules. Apparently the only thing that would happen if I didn’t follow them was that I “may not wake up happy and refreshed”.

      The outcome didn’t seem nearly as ominous as a couple of the rules did! I wondered if this was a bad translation. Maybe the company was based out of the country. That had to be it!

      I puttered around the house for awhile, getting things done. Later, I went back into my bedroom to put the bedding on my new mattress. The smell was gone, and it had plumped up considerably. In fact, it looked invitingly comfortable! Excellent.

      As usual, getting the fitted sheet on was an exercise in patience, but it didn’t take me too long to get everything set up. Naturally, the first thing I did was flop into bed. The mattress was so warm! Not just sheets-fresh-from-the-dryer warm, but warm like a hug and an electric blanket. I slid under the covers. Toasty. My back popped a bit and I let out a groan of relief.

      It felt amazing! The perfect amount of support. I had my doubts, but the mattress was ridiculously comfortable. Those little nubs on top felt like a gentle, full-body massage. Or was it more accurate to describe it like acupressure? Either way, I was sold!

      “Wow…” I said to no one. I still had things to do, but I didn’t want to get up. I had to talk myself into it. Once I got up, all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed, but I had the willpower to walk away.

      I finished my housework, made dinner, and watched TV for a bit. Once it was late enough that going to bed was actually an option, I picked up the rules again. I reviewed them, still perplexed. Well, what harm could following the rules do? At this point, I was convinced it was a bad translation and this was supposed to be one of those sleep hygiene guides to promote better sleeping habits.

      “Pick a side and stick to it. That is your side.”

      Okay, I picked the left side since it was closest to the door.

      “Sleep alone.”

      Not a problem, I’m single as fuck.

      “Keep two fresh glasses of water by the bed.”

      I went into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses and filling them up with water. I set them both on my bedside table. I guess this was in case I got thirsty in the middle of the night?

      “If you wake up in the middle of the night, don’t leave the bed.”

      Not a problem, I didn’t want to. Unless I had to pee? Well, in that case I guess I could use one of the cups? Just kidding! Gross.

      “If you’re not alone when you wake up, do not engage.”

      If I go to bed alone, why would there be anyone there when I wake up?

      I put the rules away in a drawer, still amused with the weird circumstances. I showered and got ready for bed, eager for my first night on my brand new mattress. Getting into bed was an amazing feeling, so warm and good.

      “Aaaah…” I sighed contentedly, settling in. I fell asleep almost instantly… but I didn’t stay asleep.

      According to the blurry red outline on my alarm clock, it was 3:00 AM. I wasn’t sure what woke me, but I was too comfortable to move. The mattress creaked beside me. I turned to see, blinking blearily. I couldn’t help but notice an indentation beside me. How odd. Had I rolled over?

      I closed my eyes and tried to settle in again. I managed to fall asleep, but woke up not ten minutes later. Cold feet pressed against my calves. I jumped, looking under the covers in confusion! There was nothing there. I must have been having one of those sleep-paralysis nightmare things. Except I could move?

      Trying to calm my nerves, I reached for one of the glasses on the nightstand. I tried to take a drink, but it was empty. Okay, I must have drank it and forgot. I was too tired to freak out, too comfortable to move. I curled back up with the covers, and didn’t wake up again until morning.

      When my alarm went off, my eyes popped open and I smiled. A brand new day, and I was perfectly rested and relaxed to face it. I jumped out of bed, going about my morning routine with a pep in my step.

      Those rules were weird, but maybe the placebo effect of them actually worked? I wasn’t complaining! Sure, I’d had that weird waking nightmare with the cold feet… but I couldn’t blame a mattress for that. That would be ridiculous.

      My new mattress was perfect. I’d been skeptical of the whole quiz and unexpected delivery, but I was happy. When it was time for bed again, I grabbed the two empty glasses. I washed and refilled them, setting them neatly by the clock. Smiling, I slipped under the covers… and slept like a baby.

      Every day for the rest of that week, I woke up happy and refreshed. I kept following the rules, because they honestly seemed to work. It wasn’t like they were that hard. Maybe part of it was having a routine? Having boundaries for yourself? I’m not sure why, but I’d never felt better.

      The only weird thing was that the water glasses would always be empty in the morning, even though I never remembered drinking them. As far as I knew, I’d been sleeping through the night… the empty glasses told me otherwise. I threw out of my old mattress, positive I wouldn’t need it.

      One night, I forgot to fill the cups though. I remembered once I got in bed, but I was too comfortable to get up. I let it be. I didn’t even remember drinking the water at night, so I probably wouldn’t remember missing it either. As usual, I settled in and fell right asleep.

      “Where’s my water?”

      An angry voice startled me awake.

      “I’m thirsty!”

      My heart was racing with confusion and fear. The voice was coming from directly beside me. I turned slowly, peering over my shoulder to see what could only be described as a pile of goo in the approximate shape of a man.

      The goo-man didn’t have a face, but cocked it’s glistening head as if it were looking at me. I shuddered and looked away.

      “Where’s … my… water? Go get it! I’m thirsty!”

      I was shaking. The shout of the thing made me want to leap out of bed and do as it demanded, but… I remembered the rules. I wasn’t supposed to get out of bed if I woke up in the middle of the night. Not for any reason. But I also wasn’t supposed to forget to fill the water glasses.

      Don’t engage.

      I tore my eyes away; terror and indecision froze me. I kept my back to the thing, squeezing my eyes shut. It was probably better to break one rule than break two or three.

      “Don’t ignore me! I know you heard me. Where’s my water?”

      Trembling, I kept my eyes closed. I pulled the pillow over my ears. I didn’t fall asleep, but eventually the demands stopped. I didn’t dare look at it. Only when my alarm clock went off did I finally check– there was nothing there.

      I did not feel happy or refreshed.

      Trudging through my morning, exhausted and panicked, I tried to convince myself I’d just had some weird nightmare. There was no evidence of any sort of slime. There’d be some sort of residue if there had been, right?

      But if I’d been having a nightmare, wouldn’t I feel rested? At least a little? Instead, I felt like a zombie; swallowing toxic levels of caffeine to make it through the day. When it was time for bed, I hesitated in my doorway. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to sleep on my bed, I was so traumatized from the night before!

      So I slept on my couch. Nothing weird happened, but I woke up in horrible pain. My head, my neck, my back… my whole body hurt. Oh my god, it had been the worst night’s sleep in my entire life! I was angry all day, snapping at coworkers and friends alike. My boss sent me home, concerned that I was sick. I wasn’t myself.

      At that point, I was so exhausted and felt so terrible that I knew I had to sleep on my bed again. That weird nightmare with the goo-man shouldn’t stop me. It had to have been a nightmare. I was so tired and I felt so bad. I wanted to feel happy and refreshed again.

      I took extra care to clean and fill the water glasses. The bed felt amazing, but I felt sick. I had a hard time relaxing enough to fall asleep, but eventually I did.

      “Fucking finally.” said the goo-man. It was 3:03 AM. “Hand me my water, will you?” my eyes snapped open. I stared up at the ceiling, not daring to look at the figure beside me. “I didn’t get any water last night, how inconsiderate of you.” the thing was irritated, and kept talking. I closed my eyes again.. No. This was a nightmare.

      “I know you hear me. You’re so fucking rude.”

      Don’t engage.

      I kept my eyes closed. It kept trying to talk to me, but eventually gave up. The whole mattress creaked as it reached over me, grabbing one of the cups. Cold water dripped on my back, making my muscles jump. I suppressed the urge to look.

      Gulp gulp gulp. Aaaaaaaahhh…

      “That’s better.”

      The creature left me alone after that. I fell asleep, and come morning… I did feel better. Happy and refreshed, but… also confused. Conflicted. The happiness and relaxation seemed so unnatural with the undercurrent of wrongness and fear.

      The glasses on the bedside table were empty, but what did that prove? I could have drank them. I could have been having weird nightmares inspired by the bizarre rules. That was still the most rational option!

      I tried to forget about the nightmares and went about my day. I still felt amazing, but it was tempered by anxiety in such a way that I felt I was on drugs or something. I had feelings that had no business being mixed together and yet they were.

      At bedtime, I hovered in the door again. I stared reluctantly at my mattress, deciding if I was going to spend another night on the couch. Why, though? Because of nightmares? I shook my head at myself, and forced myself through the routine. I cleaned and refilled the water glasses, showered and changed, and went to bed. Sleep hit me like a rock upside the head, but I couldn’t stay asleep.

      When I woke up, I kept my eyes closed. There was a drop of something on my forehead. Sweat? Water? I don’t know, but it felt cold. I was painfully aware of the drop slowly sliding down the bridge of my nose, then down the side and catching on the corner of my mouth.

      “Sorry, didn’t mean to splash you.” a voice said, but it didn’t sound sincere. “Are you awake?”

      Nope. Not awake. I kept my eyes closed; my palms began to sweat. Cold feet nudged my knees. Wet feet. I shuddered, a bubble of panic rising in my throat. I felt a weight on my hips, pressing down, like I was being straddled.

      My eyes snapped open before I could stop them. On top of me, inches away from my face… I saw the goo-man. It wrapped its fingers around my neck. It looked different than the first time I saw it; no face, but it has black spots where it’s eyes should be.

      Somehow, it seemed more solid, with dark spidery lines suspended in it’s gelatinous casing. Veins, maybe? That didn’t seem right. I closed my eyes again. Nope. Not looking. I willed my nightmare to change into something pleasant, like an endless buffet of dessert.

      “Sorry, did I wake you?” it mocked. I almost replied, but the pressure it’s fingers placed on my throat reminded me to stay quiet. It let go, as if realizing this.

      “You already broke one rule. You might as well break one more. I’m never going to leave you alone now.”

      Don’t engage.

      “Come on, asshole! ! I’m bored! I don’t sleep like you do.”

      It leaned in. I could feel it, the mattress moaning with the shifting weight. It blew cold air against my ear. I shivered; it’s whole body felt cold, an uncomfortable contrast to the unnatural warmth of the mattress.

      After awhile, the goo-man gave up. It flipped off of me, falling back onto its side of the bed and grumbling. I didn’t dare move; hell, I almost forgot to breathe! After a while, somehow, the comfort of the mattress sucked me back into the warm void of sleep.

      In the morning, I woke up happy and refreshed. Terrified, but happy and refreshed. I leapt out of bed, unsure if I wanted to cry or laugh. I opted for both, tears streaming down my laughing cheeks as I opened the drawer and pulled out the slip of rules.

      I turned the paper over, looking for a customer service number or email. Anything! But there was nothing. I’d already thrown away the packaging it came in, but I remembered very clearly that there’d been no return address.

      Desperate, I yanked out my laptop and typed in the web address: RIGHTSIDEOFTHEBED.COM. A page popped up asking if it was my web domain, or if I’d like to buy it. I tried again, making sure I hadn’t typed it in wrong. Same thing happened a few times before I gave up, throwing my hands up in frustration.

      The page with the rules asked me to review the product in 30 days, but it hadn’t told me how. It hadn’t been 30 days yet, but it wasn’t like the web page was going to magically start working by then… right?

      At this point, I was too afraid to sleep. As much as I wanted to believe I was having “nightmares”, I couldn’t convince myself it was true. That night, I booked a room in a hotel. It was a waste of money.

      The mattress in the room was irredeemably uncomfortable. It had a pillow top but felt like a bed of nails. The sheets seemed so cold. I spent the night crying in pain and frustration, realizing the horrible truth:

      I had to sleep on my rule-ridden demon mattress. Nothing else would let me wake up happy and refreshed. I was ruined. Going without left me a haunted, aching shell of a person. I couldn’t live like that for long, if that was living at all. The only cure was a night at home in bed. That bed.

      I didn’t go to work. I went home, crawling between my sheets and screaming into my pillow. I instantly felt better, but the fear didn’t go away. I couldn’t move. I didn’t have the strength or the will. I slept through the day, and through the night.

      “You forgot my water again.”

      I sat bolt upright. It was 3:00 AM.

      “No… no… no…” I covered my mouth, sobbing. I slept a lot longer than I thought I would. I thought a morning nap would be safe. I’d been asleep for 13 hours. While my body felt warm and at rest, my blood ran cold.

      “You can fix it. Just walk into the kitchen. Go on.”

      I broke the water rule before, if I could just stay calm and stay strong I’d be ok. This thing, though angry and demanding, had never actually hurt me.

      Don’t engage.

      “You’re so warm.” it wrapped its arms around me. Cold, but… more solid than I expected. Less wet than before. A firm grip. Bile bubbled up my throat, I wanted to throw up. Against my better judgement, I looked down. The thing had grown bones and transparent skin.

      What the fuck. This thing is… evolving? I bit my palm to stop myself from screaming. What was going to happen when this thing stopped growing?

      “Fiiiine. Don’t get my water. I’ll just hold you all night long.” it crooned. “This is nice, isn’t it?” No. No it was not nice. I threw up, the acid in my mouth burning and unpleasant. Vomit dribbled out of the corners of my mouth, dripping onto the blankets.

      The monster didn’t say anything, but it was vibrating against me. Laughing, maybe. I dropped my hands, emptying the contents of my stomach on the blanket. I stripped it off and threw the balled up comforter across the room.

      “You’re not going to put that in the wash?”

      “In the morning.” I muttered.

      Wait. No! I didn’t answer that thing! I wasn’t engaging. I didn’t!

      But I had. It was too late. The thing vibrated more, this time I was sure it was laughing. I expected some smug gotcha, but it didn’t say a word. A sharp pain lanced my shoulder, but I closed my eyes, resisting the urge to look. I didn’t know what I was feeling, but it was better not to know.

      I woke up in the morning, surprised to be alive. I must have passed out. I was not “happy and refreshed”… but scared and weak. I stared at my alarm clock, struggling to comprehend the numbers and the sound of the alarm. My ears were ringing even after I hit the snooze button. My body felt cold, even with the feverish warmth of my sweat-soaked sheets.

      The bedroom smelled of vomit, my balled up blanket still in the corner. Evidence of the night. I wasn’t crazy after all, but that didn’t make me feel better. I cried, curled up and trying to find the strength to move.

      Eventually, I managed to drag myself into the bathroom. I stood under a scalding shower, trying to feel warm again. As I scrubbed myself raw, I found a bruise on my left shoulder; a perfect circle with a dark red center. I didn’t want to look at it. I didn’t want to wonder what it was, or what it meant.

      It’s only been two weeks. I’ve already broken two rules! I don’t know what will happen if, or when, I break more… but I already know I can’t sleep anywhere else. I don’t have a choice… it’s either sleep in that bed, or don’t sleep at all.

      As of today, I haven’t slept in three days. I feel awful. I know I’m going to give in soon. Even now, I’m resisting the urge to crawl into bed and sleep. Even though I’m scared, even though I know something bad is going to happen if I do… I crave the feeling of a good night’s rest. I want to feel happy and refreshed again.

      The list of rules asked me to review the product in 30 days. That’s two weeks from now. I’m not sure what kind of “review” they’re expecting, or if I’ll even be around to write it.

      Posted in Short Stories [Horror] | 0 Comments | Tagged breaking rules, fiction, horror, horror story, mattress, nightmare, nosleep, rules, short stories, short story, sleep, sleep paralysis, spooktober
    • [Short Horror Story] My girlfriend’s hair gets everywhere

      Posted at 7:01 pm by Penny Tailsup, on October 7, 2019

      Spooktober Prompt # 7 – Killer Creatures

      “My girlfriend’s hair gets everywhere.”

      by Penny Tailsup

      –

      Listen to the narration here!

      There is no worse feeling than unexpectedly stepping into two inches of cold, dirty bathwater.

      That’s how the morning started. I was expecting to take a hot shower, but instead found myself standing in a puddle of standing water.

      “Cassidy! You clogged the drain again!”

      I jumped out of the tub and wiped my feet on the bathmat with disgust. I reached for the plumber’s snake, which was always on hand for exactly this reason. This happened a lot. More than usual, lately.

      Muttering under my breath, I eased the snake into the drain. I knew exactly what I’d find: a big, slimy ball of hair.

      Cassidy in the doorway behind me. She shuffled in that cute, apologetic way she always did when I had to unclog the drain. I wasn’t mad at her, of course. Not really. I just really, really hated having to unclog the drain.

      “Sooooorry, Dolan! I pulled some gunk out last night, I guess there was more there than I thought…”

      “If you’re not pulling out a wet cat, it’s not enough.” I was joking, kind of. Not really. I glanced at her over my shoulder, and from her apologetic smile, I knew she could tell. It wasn’t her fault, but it was hard not to feel frustrated.

      “I’ll make breakfast this morning.” she volunteered, trying to make it up to me. She didn’t have to, but I still appreciated the gesture. I was a grumpy bastard, but I loved her!

      “Bacon?” I smiled at her, and she smiled back.

      When I asked my friends what it was like to live with their girlfriends, they all had one grievance in common: hair. Hair everywhere! I thought they were exaggerating, but they really weren’t. Of course, I love Cassidy enough to overlook something so petty. Usually. Not at 6 a.m. though.

      At first, as the truth ran through more lintrollers than I could count, I thought it was funny and perplexing. How? How did she shed so much? Why wasn’t she bald?

      Cassidy’s long, curly black hair was one of the many things that attracted me to her in the first place. Living with her, I had a new appreciation for all the work that went into her looks. What I couldn’t understand was how her hair ended up where it did. It wrapped around my toes! Hell, I’ve pulled a strand out of my buttcrack. Apparently I’m not the only guy either! What the heck!

      It’s part of the beautiful girlfriend package, right? A seemingly universal grievance. I could tolerate most of it: pulling her hair out of the lint trap, cutting her hair out of the vacuum brushroll… Hell, even I could even tolerate replacing said vacuum every 6 months like clockwork! What I couldn’t stand was the hair clogs in the bathtub.

      Intellectually, I know that hair isn’t disgusting the second is leaves your head… but it is disgusting after it sits in a drain, collecting whatever nasty slime that washes away in the shower. No matter how many times I’ve done it, which is a lot, unclogging the drain is the most revolting chore in the world. I’d rather do anything else!

      Once I felt resistance, I began to rotate the snake slowly. My stomach roiled with anticipation of what I was going to fish out– apparently this one was a monster of a clog because I didn’t feel the auger head break through that mess.

      When I tried to pull the clog out, the snake didn’t budge. In fact, the clog seemed to retreat deeper into the pipe! Before I even realized what was happening, I found myself yanked forward. My head smashed against the shower tile and I let out an angry yell of pain.

      Cassidy heard the commotion. She came running in, wide-eyed. She found me holding my head in my hands, still needing a moment to recover.

      “Dolan! Are you okay? Did you slip?”

      A little dazed, I nodded. I guess I had slipped? Or something. I wasn’t entirely sure, but I didn’t want her to worry about it.

      “It’s really lodged in there. I think I accidentally pushed it in deeper, though.” I already had a headache.

      “… Well,” she looked pale but smiled through her worry for me. “You should probably get dressed and go to the doctor, just in case.”

      I looked down at myself, remembering I was naked. Oh yeah. It looked like I wasn’t getting my morning shower after all.

      “Nah, I don’t need to go to the doctor for a bump. It’s not that bad. It’s not like I was knocked unconscious.”

      “You can’t really be too careful with head injuries…” Cassidy persisted.

      “If I get symptoms besides a headache and a bruise, I’ll go in.” I brushed her off. “Don’t worry.” I added, swooping in to give her a quick kiss. “I’m not an idiot.”

      “You kind of are.” she laughed, but I could tell she was still tense. She was a worrier.

      “You’re not burning breakfast, are you? That would be a real emergency.”

      “Oh! Uhm… I’ll go check that.” I watched her dash back out of the bathroom, heading back to the kitchen. Hopefully the bacon would be spared! Maybe my morning could still be salvaged.

      Chuckling to myself, I reached down into the tub to retrieve the snake… only to find that it wasn’t there. Ok… that had never happened before. Now I had to figure out how to get a snake out of the pipe too? I tried sticking my finger in so I could feel around for it, but my fingers were too thick. I felt a slimy film, but nothing else.

      “Alrighty then..” I straightened up, standing there for a moment. I shook my head in disbelief, about to give up on my morning when I heard a strange metallic banging sound. It moved along the floor with the hissing sound of water. At least, I thought it was water? If I had to call a plumber I was going to be pissed! I wasn’t the most handy, but I’d try to fix it myself first.

      I washed my hands, got dressed and headed into the kitchen. The eggs were ruined, but the bacon wasn’t. The hash browns looked extra crispy, but I actually liked them that way. Cassidy’s cheeks were a little pink from embarrassment. Cute.

      “Breakfast looks great!” I beamed, hoping she knew I wasn’t mad. At least, not at her. I was trying not to show my frustration, because I knew it stressed her out even if it wasn’t directed at her.

      “Are you going to stay home today?” she asked with concern.

      “… Yeah. I can’t go in if I haven’t showered anyway.” I didn’t really want to miss work, but taking care of the plumbing was pretty important. Plus, I had a headache and wanted to monitor my head injury just in case.

      She made me a plate, then joined me at the table. Normally, I did the cooking because I enjoyed it, but it was really nice to have her cook for me now and then. Breakfast always tastes better when you’re not the one who made it.

      “Sorry about the drain. I really did try and fix it last night.” she explained.

      “It happens. This one’s extra bad, apparently. If I couldn’t get it out with the snake, you definitely couldn’t.” I assured her. “We might even need a plumber.” I added, “But that’s a last resort, if I have anything to say about it.”

      “You still love me, right?” she batted her eyelashes at me. I couldn’t help but laugh.

      “It’ll take more than a hairball to tear us apart.”

      After breakfast, I went to the store to pick up some baking soda, vinegar and another plumber’s snake. I grabbed a drano, too, just in case– though I tried to avoid using chemicals in our old pipes as much as I could.

      I mixed together ¼ a cup each of baking soda and vinegar, dumping the concoction directly into the drain. The standing water was grey and foul-smelling, but most of it had drained away slowly. I noticed an odd gurgling sound coming from the pipes, which I hoped was a good sign.

      I left the tub, giving the baking soda and vinegar an hour to cut through the gunk. I went to lie down, waiting for my headache to go away. Cassidy had the day off, so I listened to her putter around the house. She poked her head in the room to check on me after awhile.

      “Can I shower?” she asked.

      “Yeah, it’s time to flush everything down with hot water anyway. I’m sure it’s fine.” I closed my eyes, “Come get me when you’re done, I need to try and get the other snake out.”

      “It fell in?”

      “I guess.” It seemed more like it got pulled in, but that didn’t really make sense. Some weird accident of physics, like an air bubble or water pressure probably made it seem that way. “I’ll take care of it, come get me when you’re done.”

      She nodded, though came in to give me a quick kiss. “Ok. Love you.”

      “Love you more.” I winked, “Maybe I’ll join you in a minute, actually. I still need a shower too.”

      “Ha! Well, you know where I’ll be.” I watched her go, enjoying the view and seriously considering going after her.

      After a moment, I heard the soft sssshhh of the shower going. Cassidy hummed cheerful tune I didn’t recognize. I closed my eyes, smiling. I was about to drift off to sleep, but I was jolted awake by a sudden, sharp scream and a loud bang. “Cassidy!” at record speed, I threw off the covers and flew down the hall. I burst into the bathroom, finding Cassidy holding the back of her head. Her face was the color of sour milk and she was visibly shaking.

      The tub she was standing in was filled with filthy grey water. It smelled so bad I gagged. Hell, vomit smelled better than the putrid slop! Cassidy was sobbing in horror and disgust, but I couldn’t tell if she was seriously hurt.

      “You ok?” I managed to keep myself from puking long enough to ask.

      “N-no. All this water just… exploded out! It knocked me into the wall!” I could see a film of slime and debris drifting sluggishly across the surface of the water. I shuddered, but pushed back my revulsion so I could help her.

      “It’s ok… you’re ok.” I said in as soothing a voice I could manage. I reached out, guiding her out of the tub carefully. Her legs were coated with the contents of the tub, and I felt her almost slip. I steadied her carefully in my arms, only letting go when she had solid footing.

      I handed her a towel, pinching my nose. Something moved in the corner of my eye; something dark and writhing. It looked like something black and oily was oozing out of the drain and into the filthy water, but I couldn’t see what it was through the cloudy liquid. Had the clog come bursting out of the drain somehow?

      “I’m… going to call a plumber. One sec. And a doctor…?” I trailed off, looking at her for verification. She shook her head.

      “No, I’m fine. I’m just startled, and… grossed out.”

      “You and me both.” I agreed, still pinching my nose. Whatever this problem was, it was way out of my depth. I left Cassidy to make the call while leaned over the tub, looking at the water with repulsed fascination.

      I found my phone by the bedside table, still holding back bile. Before I could even make the call, she screamed again. This time her cry was abruptly cut off, sounding… muffled? That wasn’t right.

      I hurried back, finding Cassidy on the bathroom floor. Her mouth was open wide, but something black and slimy was jammed between her lips. Her fingers kept trying to catch hold of whatever it was, but it wouldn’t budge.

      It was hair.

      Without hesitation, I grabbed onto the slimy tangle and tried to pull it out of her mouth. She was trying to scream, she just couldn’t! The whole hairy mass was wriggling and pulsing, like it was a living thing. For some reason, it was trying to jam itself deeper down her throat.

      I couldn’t get a solid grip. It felt wiry and slippery, scraping my hands that couldn’t get a firm hold. Cassidy’s eyes were wide with terror and tears, her face going red as she struggled to breathe.

      Despite my best efforts, the hairball jammed itself completely down her throat– taking my fingernails with it. My bloody fingertips followed the thing into her mouth, but I couldn’t get ahold of it. My girlfriend was still choking, her dark eyes losing focus.

      I didn’t know what to do. I called for an ambulance, frantically trying to explain what had happened. They didn’t understand a word I said, but help was on the way. Cassidy was blue. I spotted the unopened drain snake I’d bought, and had a horrible idea.

      I tore it open quickly, and after a moment of hesitation– I pushed it down her throat. Whatever it was, I could see the lump it created in her throat. I yanked, trying to pull it back out. I only managed to pull out a few black strands. Whatever this thing was, it was impenetrable!

      “Please, please, please…” I begged, though I don’t know who I was begging. Cassidy? God? The hairball in her throat?

      I tried again, using a little more force. Again, I only succeeded in pulling out a few clumps of hair… I couldn’t unclog her throat. Black curls covered in slime stuck to her trembling chin, protruding from her mouth like tentacles.

      “No, no, no… this isn’t happening!”

      The paramedics broke down the door some time later. I hadn’t heard them arrive. I hadn’t heard anything but the roaring panic in my ears and the gurgles coming from Cassidy’s throat. I could hear the thing hissing in her throat, like a feral rat.

      The paramedics found me with a plumber’s snake in hand, I was still bent over Cassidy’s prone form– trying to stab the auger into the heart of the hairball so I could pull it out of her. I must have looked deranged. One of them forcibly pulled me away from her. I cried, trying to get back to her–still screaming her name.

      I watched in horror as they stabbed a hole for her to breathe through… I tried to explain that I’d only used the snake as a last-ditch effort to save her, but I don’t think they believed me. The rest of that time is a blur. Police were called, and Cassidy was taken away on a stretcher.

      Fortunately, the doctors were able to surgically remove the massive knot of hair… but they saw nothing unusual about it– aside from the size, and the fact that they’d found it split between my girlfriend’s throat and stomach.

      Cassidy is in a coma. She’s in bad shape, but she’s breathing. I’m grateful for that. There’s still hope.

      I haven’t been charged with a crime… yet. It’s coming. The investigators are putting a case against me together, trying to figure out what happened. I know how it looks, though. They think I’m an abuser. Looking back, I can see why they’d think that.

      The police asked if I was mad at my girlfriend for clogging the drain. They think I did this to her, jamming the hair down her throat in a fit of rage. That’s ridiculous! I love her, I’d never hurt her over anything so stupid! Maybe it was annoying sometimes, but I’d never truly blamed her.

      Unfortunately, Cassidy can’t tell them they’re wrong. The hospital won’t let me see her, either! Her family thinks I’m responsible too. We’re not married, so I can’t force my way in. I’m sure a restraining order will be issued with the warrant.

      I don’t know how to convince a jury that my insane story about a killer hairball is true. The only person who can prove it might never wake up.

      Cassidy, please wake up.

      X

      Posted in Short Stories [Horror] | 0 Comments | Tagged art, creepy, dark, drain, fiction, girlfriend, hair, horror, original, short stories, short story, spooktober, writing
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