MicroHorror

The tide churns, the winds twist, and the thunder crash of life crackles through the flow of time. The coldest scales are shed, and the softest feathers erupt in an unforgiving blaze. Caught in the briefly eternal throes of celestial apathy, all of the helpless writhe and thrash in torment.

Now motionless, the dead rise to the surface. As they drift in aimless abandon by the number, their eyes are unreflective of the elements that govern their fate. Their essences are washed away in the river of time and, with only silence in its wake, the storm surges on.

“I’m hungry,” Brandy announced.

“You’re always hungry,” Naomi responded.

“We’re ghouls. We’re supposed to be insatiable.”

“What are you in the mood for? Cop? Accountant? Construction worker?”

“You know what sounds really good? A chicken rancher!”

“A chicken rancher? Where are we going to find a chicken rancher? The nearest chicken ranch is 200 miles away.”

“But I had a chicken rancher in Montana and he was really yummy.”

“How about a cowboy? Cowboys are good. I’ll find us a cowboy.”

“I don’t like cowboys.”

“Have you ever tried cowboy?”

“No.”

“Tastes like chicken rancher. Trust me. You’ll see.”

It’s just the wind. That’s what I tell myself as I listen to the rattling of the windows. Just the wind battering against the house, that’s all. I’ve been left on my own at home before, it’s nothing to worry about.

It’s just the wind, that sounds like a roar. Nothing more than the wind. What else could it be?

As I see the windows flying open, wispy claws pushing their way inside, and catch a glimpse of a row of razor-sharp cloudy teeth, a horrible realization dawns.

It’s just the wind.

Engorged–but not in a good way. More like a strained water balloon, ready to burst. That’s what it resembles–only with fur. And you just know its contents aren’t anything like that clear tap water little Johnny uses to fill his phallic toy. No, we’re talking a putrid, bilious, olfactory-assaulting sludge in there. You touch it with your stick, softly, but that’s all it takes. Fluttering, splashing, whoopee cushion release, your rent opens on a family of rats in a raccoon carcass.

We all need a warm home to call our own.

I woke up late that morning; the giant butterflies already floated about in the sky and colorful birds screeched raucously in the trees. I cheerfully hopped up and began my day of carefree exploration. Exploring the forest is a great joy to me because it is an enchanted place, full of terrible beasts and magnificent splendor.

The first creature I found on my morning exploration was a giant rat. Its great yellow teeth clattered together as its greedy, glittering eyes focused on me. But I did not fear, for no creature of the great forest would ever harm me. My cheerful voice warms the hearts of all creatures, and that is why I will never fear. I greeted the thieving beast and it scurried off into the brush, but I knew that its heart was lighter for our encounter.

As I continued along I looked up and saw one of the forest’s great eagles, the largest in all the world. I peeped a cheerful hello to the great creature, and it turned to fix me with a stare that would stop the heart of any creature it hunted. It didn’t worry me though; my bright colors touch the soul of even such a fearsome predator. They must, because no eagle had ever attack me.

I was just at the edge of a clearing when a giant creature burst through the bushes before me. I stared in surprise at a towering beast the likes of which I’d never seen. It looked upon me, and roared.

“Kaaaaaaaannddeeeeeee,” it boomed, and lunged forward.

A paw twice the size of my body swung toward me. I leaped away, barely avoiding the grasping claws. I managed to dive beneath a huge log, hiding in the hollow below it. But the protective barrier was ripped upward into the sky and tossed away. The beast grabbed me in its massive claw and hauled me into its waiting mouth.

I sat on the giant’s tongue and awaited my fate, when suddenly the monster gasped. Then coughed. Then I was spit out into the air, tumbling painfully to the leaf litter below.

I looked up at the beast and was shocked to see it gurgling and coughing as its face swelled and its eyes bulged. Foam flowed from its mouth, and it managed one gurgling scream before collapsing to the forest floor.

Three more giants charged into the clearing, all much larger than the one that tried to eat me. Two of them, probably the smaller one’s parents, howled and sobbed as they held the fallen creature. The third looked down at me and shook its head slowly.

Though it was fortuitous timing for me, I was sad to see the young creature die. It certainly couldn’t have anything to do with me, of course. I am just a little forest frog, and no one tries to hurt me because my bright colors make them happy.

“But… honey… this is not a pumpkin, for God’s sake!” said my father when, smiling, I gave him my younger brother’s head.

Jagged teeth and monstrous eyes leapt into the ginger surface as little Jacky swung the blade. He sliced a hole in the bottom, just wide enough for his thin skull, and gleefully janked out seedy guts. Chewing a seed thoughtfully, he heaved the terrible mask onto narrow shoulders. Immediately, he choked, driven to the floor. The wet, stringy insides filled his nose and mouth, smothering him.

Jacky’s mother strolled into the kitchen and saw Jacky, motionless on the floor, wedged into an enormous pumpkin. She turned to dial 911, and just then, the creature gnashed its teeth and sprang.

It was getting late and Michael was hungry again. He turned off the porch light to deter any further trick-or-treaters and descended the rickety wooden steps to the dank cellar. His screaming Halloween treats were still chained to the back wall, thrashing against their bonds. He had a skeleton, a princess, and what was left of the pirate to choose from. Michael decided that he was in the mood for something sweet before bedtime. So, with carving knife in hand, he headed straight for the princess.

Naomi seductively nibbled on Nate’s nape, while Brandy slowly unbuttoned the lucky guy’s silk shirt.

“I’ve never been with two girls before,” Nate chortled.

“Well, consider this your first ménage à trois–and your last!” Naomi snarled, as she sank her fangs into Nate’s right carotid.

The two ghouls giggled with glee as they devoured Nate’s organs.

“Hey, Brandy, I just thought of something,” Naomi quipped. “This john is our trick–and our treat!”

“Ha! Ha!” Brandy cackled. “You were right, Naomi! Three-ways are more fun! Let’s scope out another Halloween party to find our next poor soul!”

At a fraternity Halloween party, Naomi and Brandy salivated over a studly brown-haired specimen, while Lilly eyed a buxom blonde.

“Nate was great,” Brandy said, “but I prefer men with more meat on their bones.”

Lilly rolled her eyes.

“Men are okay,” she said, “but women taste better.”

Brandy and Naomi approached the guy, while Lilly zeroed in on the gal. A short time later, the five consenting adults slipped away from the party for some private fun.

After an orgy of blood and guts, the three ghouls walked away completely satisfied.

“Wow!” Brandy exclaimed. “Women really do taste better!”