MicroHorror

“Unto the world I create a portal and Mammon shall travel through her womb.”
–Book of Damnation, Chapter 6, Verse 3.

Jade Creely believed the prophecy would occur in his lifetime and he would father the promised one. At age thirty-nine, with the death of his predecessor, he became high priest.

No time was wasted implementing his plan. The virgins of his congregation drew lots. On All Souls’ Eve the winning virgin, surrounded by sounds of beating drums and chants of the faithful, marched to the altar. Jade intoned the ritualistic words and atop the altar, in front of his flock, planted his seed into the virgin.

The pregnancy and birth were uneventful, except the child did not go to term. She was delivered on June 6th, several weeks early. The date and hour of the birth strengthened Jade’s conviction in his cause… she was born in the 6th hour of the 6th day of the 6th month. He named his daughter Jaantje, meaning “gift of God.”

On her sixteenth birthday, Jaantje became pregnant. Jade could barely contain his excitement. The culmination of years of work was about to be over.

***Jade stared intently at his daughter. “Are you sure, nobody’s touched you?”

“No, Dad.”

“Because you have to–”

“Sheesh, I know! I have to stay pure so I can have the superbaby.”

“Superbaby!?! Our master-made-flesh is hardly a superbaby!”

“Whatever.”

He handed her the pregnancy test. “If this is positive, we’ll have a doctor verify your virtue.”

***Jade fidgeted on his seat in the waiting room of the clinic. Jaantje appeared bored. A nurse opened the door next to the receptionist and called out “Jaantje?”

Both Jade and Jaantje stood.

The nurse held out her hand as they approached. “Sir, you’ll have to wait out here.”

“No.”

“It’s not normal for a father to be with his daughter during a pelvic exam.”

He stared at her.

The nurse hesitated. “Okay. Wait outside the exam room. The doctor will talk to you before going in.” She led them to the exam room and went inside with Jaantje.

Shortly, the doctor approached him. “Sir, I’ll allow you inside if it doesn’t make your daughter uncomfortable.” He disappeared inside the exam room. A minute later he opened the door and motioned Jade in.

His daughter lay on her back, legs up in stirrups. He stood by her side. The doctor took his place on a stool between her legs and lifted her gown.

“Hm,” the doctor said. “I’ve never seen this before.”

Suddenly, a brilliant light filled the room and a loud whoosh could be heard. Reality warped and the three-dimensional space in the exam room became elastic. The doctor screamed as he was stretched long and thin and sucked into Jaantje. The force pulled Jade around his daughter and between her legs. After he disappeared the light went out and reality snapped back into place.

The prophecy never stated which direction one travels through the portal.

• Copyright: © 2007 Chuck Heintzelman

“Hey! This is the ‘ten items or less’ aisle,” said the skinny grocery store clerk.

“I only have eleven items,” said the stodgy, middle-aged man. “What’s ten, one more or less?”

The clerk pulled out a huge meat cleaver and chopped off the man’s left little finger.

“What’s ten, one more or less?” she asked.

• Copyright: © 2007 Steve Talbert

“And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,” Grace intoned as she sat on the bench outside the courthouse waiting for her bus. The tears were gone. The foreman’s “not guilty” permanently engraved in her mind.

She didn’t understand how they could let him go. His lawyer said he had no reason to commit the crime. Who needed a reason these days? He’d killed her grandson. She knew it, and God knew it.

“For thine is the kingdom…” The squeal of the bus’s brakes interrupted her prayer. She walked to the back, not because she had to, like in the old days, but because she wanted to be alone.

She sat in the last row and took her knitting out of the oversized bag. She heard the sound of nylon-encased legs approaching and smiled at the woman who slid into the window seat of the row across from her. The woman smiled back, but nothing about her face indicated she recognized Grace.

“Say, weren’t you on the jury for that murder case that just ended?”

The woman looked at her, but didn’t answer.

“Sure you were. I remember your hat. Mind if I ask you a question?” Grace said as she slid across the aisle to join the juror.

“I guess it’s okay now that the trial’s over.”

“How did you determine that that young man was innocent of killing my… his friend?”

“Well, the lack of a weapon played a part in our decision, and we didn’t believe much of what the prosecutor said. You know how many people are wrongly convicted every year? Besides, the defendant appeared to be such a nice young man, clean shaven, wearing a cross on a chain. He didn’t look like the kind of person who would stab someone.”

Grace watched stoically as the bus pulled up to her stop. She looked at each of the passengers waiting to get on, wondering which one would find the plump juror with the knitting needle stuck in her chest. Not that Grace cared. She did what she had to do. An eye for an eye, she thought, as she stepped off the bus and began the two-block walk to her apartment.

• Copyright: © 2007 Jim Harrington

Stella Hardy clutched the engraved invitation to her chest. Her body trembled with anticipation as she stared up at the glittering facade of the Hedonist Spa and Beauty Retreat. The invitation was a gift from her boss, a treasured passport into a golden world for one exotic weekend.

“Okay, girl, get a grip,” she muttered to herself. “It’s just a fancy hotel for the rich and unbearably beautiful.”

Stella climbed the marble stairs to the entrance, pushing through the ornately carved door into the lobby of the most elegant hotel she’d ever seen. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting an amber glow over the room. Women dressed in red silk evening gowns and men in black tuxedos wandered about the lobby, greeting friends and exchanging pleasantries.

“Welcome to the Hedonist. How may I help you?” asked the receptionist.

Stella slid her invitation across the desk.

“Ah, you’re Ms. Sinclair’s virgin guest.”

Stella blushed. “Yes, it’s my first visit. Ms. Sinclair was kind enough to invite me for the weekend.”

“Most kind, indeed. Ms. Sinclair is our High Priestess, and as such, she’ll be presiding over the evening ritual. On behalf of our members, we bid you welcome. If there’s anything you need, feel free to ask. We’ll do our utmost to provide whatever your heart desires while you’re with us.”

“Oh, my,” said Stella. “I feel like Cinderella at the ball.”

“A most suitable feeling,” said the receptionist. “Edgar will escort you to your room. You’ll find an evening gown has been laid out, and a maid waiting to help you dress. The evening’s ritual will begin promptly at seven, with dinner to follow.”

Stella’s room was filled with the bridal scent of orange blossoms and roses. Arrangements of white lilies mingled with blood red roses to decorate ebony table tops. A diamond and pearl encrusted white lace evening gown was draped across the bed, waiting to transport her to the glittering world of her dreams.

“Holy fairy dust,” she whispered.

Edgar was outside the door, waiting to escort her downstairs for the festivities.

“Everyone’s so young and beautiful,” said Stella as they entered the dining room. “Do you know their secret, Edgar?”

“Our members… make sacrifices.”

“I guess giving up a few decadent desserts isn’t much of a sacrifice when you look that exquisite,” said Stella, nodding toward her boss. Ms. Sinclair was draped in black and silver robes, her ivory body glowing under the sheer fabric. As she raised her hand in welcome, Stella saw a jewel encrusted dagger.

Edgar led Stella forward, placing her on the altar of Hedone.

“Not that kind of sacrifice, ma’am.”

• Copyright: © 2007 Sandra Seamans

The kids call him The Shadow. He’s a little black rabbit that belongs to the neighbors two doors down. They call him The Shadow because you can’t see him in the dark. He comes over into my yard most every day. I guess my lawn tastes best. My new wife feeds him carrots and cereal. Her kids pet him and play with him. He’s very tame, and friendly to everyone in the neighborhood. Except me. He thumps his foot in warning and runs when he sees me. They say it’s because I’m too loud, or move too fast, or smell funny, but I know the real reason.

It’s because The Shadow knows.

I’d been sure that there were no witnesses that night. I’d taken every precaution. But perhaps a small, silent visitor, one that can’t be seen in the dark, knew what happened the night my last family disappeared. Knew where they were buried under the tool shed. Knew that it was almost time for the next sacrifice.

It was a silly idea, of course. A rabbit understanding and remembering what it saw. All he knew was that he was afraid of me. Even if he had any memory of that night, he had neither the intelligence nor the ability to stop me. At least that’s what I thought before he started digging under the tool shed.

Now I realized The Shadow was more than a rabbit. He was an enemy of the gods, an agent of demons sent to stop the sacrifice. Sent to reveal me to the unbelieving masses and destroy my work. Too long had I underestimated the skulking thing. It was time to act. It was time for expiation.

I waited by the shed in the dead of night, the sacrificial axe in hand. It would be sacrilege to use it on a mere animal, but I knew The Shadow to be a demon. My latest family dozed in a drugged sleep. They would be waiting for me when I was done with this.

I didn’t see him coming but, as usual, he thumped when he saw me. I was able to follow the sound and pick out a darker patch in the gloom. He was under the fence before I even raised the axe, but I was prepared. One kick took out a section of fence which I had weakened earlier. The Shadow thumped his foot again and I swung at a patch of darkness. A blast of cold water nearly knocked me over. I’d hit a black plastic sprinkler head. I howled in rage, charging across the yard to the next fence. I hadn’t weakened this one and I chopped it wildly with the axe. Lights came on in houses nearby, but I no longer cared. The Shadow was back in his own yard now, slipping through a cat door into his house. The glass back door shattered with one blow. The beast’s owners were already up, looking bewildered and sleepy. Obviously hypnotized by the demon masquerading as a rabbit.

“Where is he!” I screamed, brandishing the axe, “Spy! Demon! Enemy! Where is the beast!”

I never did see what hit me. Pain bloomed across the back of my head, and colors bloomed in my eyes. Broken bits of ceramic, like shards of bone, rained around me as I crumpled to the floor. As I lay there, my consciousness swimming, I saw him. Before me on the floor, The Shadow glared at me in disapproval.

I was handcuffed by the time I awoke, being dragged into a police car. Neighbors had gathered in their yards, daring to judge me while standing ignorant in their pajamas. As if there own gods demanded no sacrifice. As I was driven away I noticed a darker spot within the shadows of the lawn. An ink blot on black paper. He knows what he’s accomplished. The Shadow knows.

• Copyright: © 2007 Brett Saunders

My bedroom door is one of those sliding types. The kind that slides into a pocket in the wall on rollers. It was put in just before I moved in and wasn’t completely finished. It has no handle or latch and is made of smooth, polished wood. So if it is closed all the way I can only open it by prying at the edge with my fingernails until I can get a gap big enough to pull it by. Sometimes I remember not to close it all the way, but many nights I close it completely and have to scrabble my way out. This can take several seconds, especially if I’m hurrying to get to the phone.

The other quirk of my apartment is that it seems to be the official meeting place for mice in the building. I’ve never seen one in my apartment, but I can hear them scampering through the walls and vents. At least, I always thought they were mice.

Tonight, while I lie in bed, several of them gathered near the vent and began squeaking. After several seconds the squeaks resolved into high scratchy voices. They spoke of how the catering service from the floor below me moving out had left them without supplies of food to steal. They talked about “alternative sources” and “drastic measures.” They began to discuss strategies to capture a larger opponent.

I can hear a new sound now, metal scraping metal. It’s the sound of knives being sharpened. They’re discussing where the “best cuts” are now. I wonder… I just wonder if I left the door open enough.

• Copyright: © 2007 Brett Saunders

A dull ache in Tom’s belly caused him to open his eyes. His thoughts were convoluted and all but the base urge to fill his empty stomach were insubstantial. He pulled himself up to his knees with some effort and oriented himself. Tom’s head swam and he could barely control his limbs, which seemed heavy and stiff. He managed to get his right foot out in front of him and pitched himself onto that leg nearly tumbling back. Flailing his limbs he managed to maintain his balance and start lunging forward awkwardly. He looked down to see his left leg was broken and he was standing on his ankle. Feeling no pain he forgot about it and managed to stumble forward. He was on a road choked with cars that were all stopped in haphazard directions. Some were turned sideways, crashed into one another, some were still idling quietly, and a few further up seemed to be on fire, belching black smoke into the air.

Tom approached a car with its door open and began to crawl inside but forgot what he was looking for. The ache reminded him that he was hungry and he began rooting for food. He tried to open the glove compartment but couldn’t quite get his fingers to work the latch. Giving up he stumbled out of the car and fell backwards bumping into a woman. They both tumbled off the road and into a drainage ditch. Spinning his arms wildly he tried to gain purchase in the slippery red stream that was flowing downhill. They both stood and stared at each other.

As if trying to remember a dream, the woman’s face almost touched a memory but was held just out of his reach. Her face though scratched and bloody was beautiful and a word came to his lips. The sound that emanated from his throat however was unlike any words he knew.

“Mmmmuuuuughhhh!” He groaned and smiled. Guttural and raw, the noise was like a moaning belch. She cocked her head and it nearly rolled off being only suspended by wisps of tendon and she merely gurgled through her torn throat. She reached up and propped her head back on her shoulders and held it there. They both began plodding across the field that lined the highway and he felt her hand grasp his. They looked at one another for a moment, then began silently heading west.

• Copyright: © 2007 Andrew JM Stone

Every morning before work, Cinde met the troll in a warehouse outside the forbidden woods. Once, while undressing, she asked, “Don’t the city’s daylight eyes scare you?”

“No,” his trolley-brake voice answered, “it’s the forest’s day I fear, when the willows awaken. They cry themselves to sleep at dusk, guilt-ridden. Then it’s safe.”

• Copyright: © 2007 Carl Jeffries

Grasses underfoot, trees overhead, flowers in innocent golden hair. Seeds attach to the unwary. Thorns catch and tear. Spores float menacingly towards us, hayfever attacking our heads and lungs. Vines climb houses, try to smother, suffocate, kill. They leave trees alone to attack us, now.

If you’re not afraid of Spring, you deserve what’s coming.

• Copyright: © 2007 Carl Jeffries

The Stranger, my brother told me, is using your other hand, so it feels like some awkward girl’s jerking you off. I tried it yesterday, and it felt like little Laurie Smythe after gym. Until the migraine hit, and the vision. A beauty, translucent blue rubber skin and glowing purple organs. I woke up sticky.

• Copyright: © 2007 Carl Jeffries