The Crunge: A Tale of the Skeletal Man (Part 1)

The man sitting next to me smelled horrendous, talked way too much, and was big as a house. But he played cards horribly and I was up ten thousand fifty dollars already, so a little stink and rubbing of elbow to love handle could be overlooked.

“I hope you’re happy fella,” the fat man says. “You’re taking all I have.”

“I’m taking? It’s more like you are giving me everything you have. Besides, no one is forcing you to play. I would have given up ten hands ago,” I gather my money and slip it into my pocket. “I tell you what, when we land I’ll buy you a drink. Nothing soothes the loss of money like a warm gullet. So what’dya say boss?”

“A drink won’t buy me a house.”

“And neither will I,” I pull a cigar out of my shirt pocket and light it. “Tell you what I will do. I just so happen to be great friends with The Commander, I’ll chat him up, get you a bang up job, and not one of those excavating jobs, we lose about two thirds the men we send out there-”

“The cold?”

“-to worms.”

“I thought the Worm Annihilation Front had that under control?”

“Oh, yeah, let’s be a little naïve and believe that twenty college dropouts are going to eradicate a worm problem as big as ours in a year. Not going to happen.”

The fat man stands with much difficulty. “Well, you do what you can. If a job comes your way I’d be much grateful, promises just don’t hold much weight these days.”

“Can’t say the same for those pants.”

He takes a thumb, slides it between fat and fabric, gives it a tug forward.

“Elastic my friend. A gift from the gods.”

The fat man walks away and leaves me with a ragtag group of gamblers all pretty pissed I have their money. I quickly stuff the winnings in my pocket. Excuse myself from the table and stand.

“We’re not finished here,” says a cloaked fellow from whom I won the biggest pot.

“Sorry pal, we are. Everyone’s tapped.”

“You’re not.”

“Well, that’s a difference of opinion.”

The man slams his fist on the table toppling chips and spilling drinks.

“No pal, it’s not.”

“You play a game of chance…there’s a chance you may lose. Deal with it.”

The cloaked man stands, uses his right hand to unveil a pistol.

“You sure you want to play it this way? On my ship?”

His hand creeps around the butt of the gun. A finger slides over the trigger.

“You fire that you’ll be dead before the bullet hits me.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“It’d be the first time you won tonight. Not great odds.”

The gun slides from the holster. He holds it, down at his side. Out of the corner of my eye I see the fat man has returned. He stands with the other spectators, waiting in anticipation.

“I tell you what. Return your gun. I’m feeling charitable today. I’ll give half what I won and free drinks till you reach your destination.”

“You’re scared.”

“Not scared, just concerned about the poor soul who’ll clean up this mess.”

“You return all my money. That’s the only way we’re solving this.”

“You’re right…how much was it again?”

“Six…”

A shot rings out. The bullets catches the cloaked man in his right eye. He falls to floor dead. I holster my pistol.

“Free drinks till we clean up this mess,” I tell my passengers. They run to the next room to place their orders. I walk over to the man I shot. I bend down and pull the hood from his face.

“A dolan. No wonder. They’re sore losers,” says the fat man.

“You come back for your money as well?”

“Didn’t cross my mind before, definitely not now.”

“Thing is, you and I could’ve come to some kind of peaceful resolution. He was going to shoot no matter what.”

“I was scared for a second.”

“Only a second?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s get that drink.”

“You buying?”

“It appears so.”

*

 

“So I gain like fifty pounds and she leaves me which makes me more depressed so all I do is eat and eat which led me to obesity you see before you.”

“You never told me your name.”

“Oh, sorry, Hank Barker.”

“Well Hank, I’m Charlie Cutter.”

“Wait, Charlie Cutter? Bullshit.”

“The one and only.”

“So that speech about get me a job and knowing a commander was just…”

“Bullshit, yeah. Sorry, I have to give the appearance that I’m an everyman.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I can trust you.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“I know things about you that no one else knows.”

“But how?”

“All I need is a name.”

“Then what?”

“That’s where the mystery will lie dormant. It’s not for you to know.”

“I’m confused.”

“That happens. Look, when you first boarded my vessel I could sense something about you. When you gave your name I could do more than sense it.”

“So what is it?”

“I need your help.”

“Help with what?”

“The Crunge.”

Hide: Part 2

The inner sanctum of the house was encapsulated in a darkness as thick as molasses. I was only able to find my way to a comfortable resting spot by being led by the girl’s tiny hand.

“Stay here,” she said. “I’ll grab a phone.”

She came back a few minutes later carrying a cordless.

“Here go.”

“Thanks.”

I pressed the talk button. The phone came to life and shed a minuscule amount of light allowing me to see my hands and the edge of the couch. I brought the phone up to the girl’s face. As I did this I swore, and I’m not sure how to explain this, but, the darkness seemed to move out of the way of the light. Kind of like it were smoke disrupted by a slight breeze. Gently pushed out of the way to reveal what lie hidden behind. I took it for my eyes playing tricks on me and dialed Alyce’s number. She picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Alyce. What the shit girl?”

“Hannah? Where are you.”

“You left me in these freaking woods is were I am. I happened across this nice family who let me use their phone to call your sorry ass.”

“You didn’t go home?”

“Why would I go home? I sat by this big tree for, for I don’t know how long waiting for you and those two knuckleheads to stumble on me… I told you this was not a good idea.”

“Wasn’t my idea.”

“Doesn’t matter. Just come get me.”

“Where are you now?”

“Where am I exactly?” I ask the girl.

“In a house in the woods.”

“I know that…never mind. Can you take me back to where I found you dancing?”

“Who was dancing?” Alyce asks.

“I’ll explain later.”

“I know these woods back and forth.”

“So you’ll take me?”

“Only if you promise to come back someday and play dolls.”

“Sure, sounds great.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

“Alyce, we’re leaving, just park where Stephen parked earlier, I’ll be there.”

“Fine.”

“Is this some sort of inconvenience?”

“No…well, yeah…kind of.”

“Really?”

“No…ugh, I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.”

I hand the girl her phone. She grabs my hand and leads me out of the house and onto a trail that leads to where Alyce shall be waiting.

“Was that your friend?”

“Who?”

“On the phone.”

“Oh, her. Sure. Close enough.”

“You don’t like her?”

“We get along fine. She can just be a real bitch sometimes.”

“What’s a bitch?”

“She can be annoying.”

“Oh. We’re almost there.”

We walk awhile more then come to a thinning of trees and roaring of passing cars.

“She should be here soon.”

“Okay.”

“You never told me your name,” I say.

“Lillian.”

“Hello Lillian, I’m Hannah.”

She starts the dance I witnessed earlier, she stops when headlights focus on us.

“Come on Hannah, I don’t have all night,” Alyce exclaims from the car.

“Hold your horses, jeez.”

I turn to Lillian. ” Thanks for everything, I’ll come back soon so we can play, okay.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Now get home, your mom is probably worried.”

“Bye,” she says as she runs back into the woods.

I walk to the car and climb inside.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Lillian. She led me back here. Smart little girl.”

“Little girl? There wasn’t anyone there.”

“Look Alyce, you’ve fucked with me enough tonight. Just take me home.”

“Whatever, believe what you want.”

She threw the car in gear and we headed home.

Seek: Part 1

“What time is it?” asks Stephen.

“Two thirty-eight,” Alyce responds.

“In the morning?”

“No. The afternoon. That’s why the sun is shining so bright,” she exclaims sarcastically. “Yes the morning, jackass.”

“Well, I don’t know where she is. Maybe she left.”

“Maybe she fell in a hole. A passerby saw the hole and filled it. Now she’s buried, trying to dig her way to freedom,” responds Conor.

“Maybe you’re an asshole,” Alyce says.

“Sugar, there’s no maybe about that.”

“Look, either we find her or we leave. I’m not going to spend all night, morning, whatever looking for someone who is most likely fucking with us.”

“What if she is hurt?”

“She’s not hurt. She would’ve screamed or be screaming. Let’s go home, call her tomorrow and you’ll see everything is just fine.”

“Fine. If she’s hurt I’m blaming you two.”

“You’re not the law…so who gives a shit.”

The three of them walk back along the trail that leads to Stephen’s red Mustang. Conor climbs in the back, directly behind Alyce.

“Don’t even think about kicking the back of my seat. I tolerated it on the way here, if you do it now I’m going to scratch your eyes out.”

“Chill out. Jesus.”

The car rumbles to life, is put in gear and drives towards the highway.

Hide: Part 1

They left me without a second thought and I know we are too old to be playing hide and seek yet we do it anyway trying to live out our childhood fantasies I guess. In all the times we’ve played I never won, never came close and that’s probably why they left me out in those cold, dark woods. Probably thought I gave up and ventured home. I did not. I sat on the damp, gross ground waiting for someone to tap me on the shoulder and scream out, “Found you!” It wasn’t until I heard Stephen’s Mustang rumble to life that I knew I was alone.

The dark doesn’t scare me. Usually the dark and I have a pretty mutual understanding; it never hides an evil with intentions of doing me harm and I give it the glorious pleasure of watching me in all my intimate moments. I sat a few minutes until it became clear that no one was coming back for me. I stood, dusted the leaves and mud from my ass and journeyed as best I could remember the way I came.

I saw the girl after walking a mile and realizing I was lost. She was a tiny little thing in a white dress skipping to and fro in a circular patch of grass void of trees though full of moonlight. I stood and watched as she danced and danced. I didn’t speak. Only watched. I had never ventured these woods before so I was not confident of locations of houses in the area. Even with a house close by this struck me as strange; it had to be close to three in the morning. I know as a child I was never allowed in a wooded area, hell, outside at three in the morning at her age, supervised or not.

She had begun to spin. Going faster and faster then all of a sudden falling to the ground in a fit of laughter. I took this as my cue to approach and find out what exactly was going on. She was still on the ground when I reached her. Giggling and playing with her feet.

“Hello?” I question.

“It’s rude to watch,” she says.

“I don’t know if it’s rude per se, no, I’d say it was more of an act of inquisitiveness.”

“Inquisita-wa? You’re funny.”

“I really don’t have the patience to explain it right now. Are you supposed to be out here?”

“I’m always out here.”

“You live out here?”

“Not out here.”

“In a house out here?”

“Yes.”

“Do your parents know you are out here?”

“My mom knows. She’s watching me.”

“From how far away, cause, I only see the two of us.”

“She’s around,” she stands and approaches me. “Are you lost?”

“A little. My friends and I were playing games and I got left out here.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“You don’t drive?”

“I didn’t drive here. I can’t really explain why they left.”

“Maybe they left you to die.”

“That’s a little creepy.”

“My mom made cookies. You like cookies?”

“Cookies are fine at a reasonable time.”

“You can share with me.”

“You want me to come to your house?”

“My dolls will love you.”

“I can call my friends.”

“Sure.”

She took me by the hand and led me back into a wooded area. We followed a trail that I was told about though did not see. I then saw the house. Nestled in between a group of trees and pitch black. Not a single light was on.

“Are you sure about this?”

“You need help don’t you?”

“I guess. This just seems the beginning of something much worse than help.”

“What’s much worse than help?”

“Help isn’t something bad…never mind. Let’s get to that phone.”

We reached the front door which she opened with a gleeful smile and we stepped inside.

Bring the Appetizers, I’ve Got the Spirits

“It happened again, you know…It.”

“That’s what they’re saying.”

“What do you think?”

“I think teenagers get drunk. Act stupid. Die.”

“This has happened before.”

“For years, I know. That doesn’t mean anything. Everyone will die. There are going to be coincidences.”

“Hundreds dying in the same way in the same town in the same two mile area…You don’t see anything peculiar about that?”

“What am I supposed to think? That some Japanese girl died in anger and is haunting our sleepy little town? Are pissed off fishermen coming in with the fog to punish those that conspired against them? This is real life. Ghosts are tales. Nothing more.”

“Ghosts could exist. Just because you don’t believe doesn’t make it so.”

“Have you ever seen one?”

“No.”

“When you hear of ghost sightings, who is it that has seen them? I’ll tell you. Crazies. Crazies who were driving that dark road alone, always alone. No witnesses to back their insane ramblings. I could tell you I saw anything while I was alone. Didn’t even God visit people who were off on their own. What does that say…”

“Are you saying belief in God is crazy?”

“I’m not saying anything about God. “

“You just did.”

“That was a mistake. We are talking about those creepies that stalk the night.”

“So why’d you even bring it up?”

“Drop it. Okay?”

“Fine.”

“Damn it. What were we even talking about?”

“You were saying that hundreds of people for hundreds of years dying in the exact same way at the exact same place was just coincidence.”

“Right.”

“Now that I’ve said it again do you still feel the same way?”

“Just because you repeat yourself five minutes later doesn’t mean I’ve had some life altering epiphany.”

“Then explain to me, logically, how this can be happening.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?”

“You seem awfully confident on what it is not.”

“What it is and what it is not are two completely different entities. How do we know there isn’t some fucked up family that has been committing these atrocities as some sick tradition? Just because it cannot be explained right now doesn’t mean a logical explanation will not present itself in the near future.”

“Why would a supernatural explanation be an illogical one? Millions of people believe that the world was created in seven days by a being that lives in the Heavens. If that be accepted as a logical explanation for our existence, why is it so hard for anyone to comprehend that something that cannot be seen, heard, or smelt as the one responsible for those crimes?”

“We’re not talking about anyone. You asked me. I don’t believe in the whole God situation. It’s not something I can or want to comprehend based on the fact that it is just so far fetched…Why do you keeping bring up God?”

“I don’t. That’s the first time I’ve mentioned it without referring to your mentioning of it.”

“What?”

“Forget it. Just get to the point of this.”

“Who says I have a point to make?”

“You brought all this up.”

“I did? You sure?”

“I…I really don’t know.”

They stand looking at each other, confused. After a few seconds they shrug it off and disappear into a cloud of smoke.

After the Nightmare: Part Three

“Where are you taking us?” I asked.

“It’s not for you to worry. You are safe.”

“It’s hard not to worry with guns pointed at you.”

“They are more for your safety than ours.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s best to remain as quiet as possible. These are not good parts we are traveling through.”

The rest of the trek not another word was spoken. We eventually came to a fenced in encampment. An armed guard led us through.

“You can follow me to my bunk.”

Inside he offered us coffee and bread for which he consumed greedily. After the meal he directed us to where we were to rest our heads for the night. Farah and I sat on the pile of blankets while the Scottish sat in a chair directly in front of us.

“My scaring you was just part of the show I have to perform in front of my people. Keep them in line if you know what I mean.”

“Sure.”

“My name is Colin. This is my safe haven. You have no worries here for we are not the enemy. We are just a ragtag bunch trying to survive.”

“So what was that back there? The bodies?” Farah asked.

“In all honesty it’s just a group of people just trying to survive in the worst way possible. We have our encampment here, they have the fear they invoke. You try that fear and you pay with your life. Simple as that. Your friend, the one that ran, he tested them and found out the hard way…they are not playing around.”

“He wasn’t testing shit. He was scared and happen to run the wrong way,” Farah said.

“You see it your way they see it theirs. You see which opinion matters most. Look, you have to understand, shit’s bad and only getting worse. We are all doomed. Just waiting for the end.”

Farah crawled onto her side and pulled a blanket over head.

“How long have you guys been out here?”

“About five years.”

“Five years and you are still so naive?”

“How else are we supposed to be? With no electricity, no radio, no news updates, how are we supposed to be in the know of the happenings in the world? The only news we get is from the few others we may run across in our travels, though we have to take that with a grain of salt. It’s all just rumors and hearsay.”

“Let me update you on what I know to be the truth. First, Asia, Russia, the Middle East…all gone; a radioactive wasteland. Europe pretty much abandoned from winds carrying over said radiation. Those that remain are sick and dying. The same can be said for the whole west coast of North America and most of Canada. There’s only so much time until it makes it’s way here and…well, we’re just fucked,” he takes a sip of coffee. “Look, you can stay here as long as you want. There’s food and water, all I ask is you help maintain those supplies. But, it’s up to you. Get a good night sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”

As he leaves Farah rolls over to face me.

“I do not want to stay here.”

“Just for one night, please?”

“I don’t trust him or this place.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t. So, can we please leave?”

“You said the first place we find that you want to stay. That you are tired of running.”

“You’re right. I did say that. Just not here. There’s something wrong about this place.”

“Fine. Let’s leave the first comfortable place we’ve seen in years. Sounds great.”

We gather our things and slip out past the guard who just nods as we leave. We walk and walk until we reach a river. A river where my greatest act of cowardice rears it’s ugly head.

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After the Nightmare: Part Two

We met two years into the war. She was a friend of a friend that had nowhere to go due to being evicted from her apartment for being Middle Eastern. She came to live with my friends and I in our little hideaway. We lived there for about five years until police forces raided it one night while we were out. It was then we decided to tough it out in the wild. We split into three groups. Farah, myself and a teen named Max traveled together. It was the three of us for six months until the first incident happened.

There was a dread in the air that day. We were deep in the mountains of Tennessee. It was a bright, sunny, summer day, the kind of day you expect the birds to be chirping and deer and squirrels to be running rampant. There was nothing, only silence and the stench of death. We trekked what seemed like miles in the silence. Finally coming to an opening in the trees we found the source of the silence. In the trees hung what appeared to be hundreds of bodies. We approached cautiously, trying to get a closer look. Max said he’d heard rumors of this. Hundreds of whites being strung up as a warning to all races to stay away.

“This is Black territory,” he said.

“I know, just be quiet.”

“We have to get out of here.”

“I can see that.”

“Fuck man, these are not people we want to run into. We have to…”

“Max, shut your fucking mouth. You aren’t helping,” Farah said.

We stood in silence. Any way we traveled could end in disaster. We then heard the snapping of twigs and leaves under foot. Max made a noise between a scream and a cry and took off into the woods. Farah and I remained where we were until Max let out a scream and a gunshot rang out. We took off in the opposite direction, trying to run fast though stay quiet at the same time. We ran and ran never looking back and fighting fatigue. We were not going to end this way.

When exhaustion finally got the best of us we laid at the base of a tree. Drinking water and exhaling in shallow breaths so that we could listen out for the smallest sounds.

“This is fucked,” Farah whispered.

“I know.”

“What was that back there?”

“Rumors have it that there is a group of militant blacks that are stringing up whites provoked or not.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Sweetheart, this whole war doesn’t make any sense. When it comes down to it it is basically a race war. Each race is doing what it has to to ensure it’s survival. We just happen to be part of the unlucky ones that haven’t chosen a side.”

“Well, I’m tired of running.”

“Look, when we find a camp that gives at least the appearance of safety we’ll stop and collect ourselves. Make a plan for the future.”

“Fine.”

“I promise.”

I put my arm around her knowing it was a promise that I had no control over. Against my better judgement we fell asleep. A sleep that was rudely interrupted with a gun to my temple.

“Morning lovely,” said a man with a Scottish accent.

After the Nightmare: Part One

As a child I swam so relentlessly that at the age of eight I actually thought I was part fish. Not a day passed that you wouldn’t find me trying out a new swim style in the lake behind my house. Throughout my entire adolescent years I never thought anything would take me away from my glorious liquid bliss. I then hit puberty at thirteen and realized that swimming was second best to the glorious beasts which rest upon the sand. I nearly forgot my former love in those days as a sex obsessed teen; I set it on the back burner to simmer until the day I needed it most.

Twenty-three years later I am swimming for my life. A life that with every stroke I feel a sadness grow inside. Every stoke brings me further away from land and further away from my wife. A wife who is now being beaten and raped and eventually murdered because I am too weak and afraid to protect her. My weakness drove me to dive into the river whose edge we made camp. To swim to save a life that should be ending at this moment. I keep my head under as long as my lungs will allow to lessen the amount of time I am subjected to her throes of death; until, at last I break to silence, and know they will come for me.

I push until my arms ache. A small sense of relief coming over me as I see land within reach. I pull myself along the rocks and sand hurrying to my knees so that I can begin my run to find some sort of shelter. Any place to hide for the night, to survive just to do it all again the next day.

As I stand I make the mistake of looking back. I see the faint glow from their torches. Knowing they are still there with her I fall to the ground and cry a painful throat wrenching cry. I punch myself in the face for being so weak. I punch the ground repeatedly drawing back fingers drenched in blood and torn flesh. I crawl into a fetal position thinking I’ll just stay here. I’ll let them find me. Torture me the best they can, I deserve more for the coward that I am.

I lay until the pain in my hand finally registers. I look down at the mess I made; I remove my shirt and tear a strip to help quell the bleeding. I stand knowing my life will be short if I remain. I look back once more to find more torches have joined the few from before. There are two that have seemed to grow closer which only means they are crossing the river. I convince my legs to move and duck into the forest which lays ahead. In the cover of trees I hear shouts from behind. Most are unintelligible. There is one that I can hear as plain as day. One of the men, at the top of his lungs yells, “Race traitor”.

The Trouser Snake

“I’m sorry, I just cannot publish this in the children’s market.”

“It’s a children’s book.”

“You keep saying that…it’s…here’s the thing, your book, well, it’s just too phallic to be a children’s story.”

“Really? Phallic? Please enlighten me.”

“First of all it is called The Trouser Snake…”

“The main child finds a snake and keeps it in his pocket.”

“That may be…its just there has to be a better title than The Trouser Snake.”

“Sure, I’ll call it, There’s a Python in My Pants. Huh? You like that, don’t you?”

“That’s not better. Strangely enough it’s worse. Look, here’s the deal, I’m not publishing a children’s book that eludes to the penis in any way possible. Be it intentional or un.”

“Okay, okay…say I take out the snake and replace it with…I don’t know…let’s say…he walks past a laundromat and finds a roll of quarters…I’ll call it; Is That a Roll of Quarters in Your Pocket?”

“You can not be serious?”

“He’s walking in his backyard and finds one of those plastic rockets, I’ve Got a Rocket in My Pocket. Has a nice ring to it, no?”

“I am asking you to leave.”

“What do I have to do?”

“You have to leave. I will call security, hell, maybe even the cops. Tell them I have some perv here trying to sell kids a book full of innuendos about his penis. How does that sound.”

“Sounds like we have a deal. Good day sir.”

“Yeah, thanks.”