MicroHorror

“That was ‘Fear of the Dark’ by Iron Maiden, rounding out another hour of all-horror, all-the-time. This is your master of the macabre, DJ Voyeur, coming at you with the Graveyard Shift, every night. It’s coming up on the witching hour, currently 2:51, which means I’m almost out of here.“But before I sign off, I want to send a special message out there to all those kids down by the levee. It appears local police have yet to catch what they are now calling ‘The Lovers’ Lane Killer,’ who has been responsible for killing more than a half a dozen teenagers in and around the Golden Triangle area. So, seriously, kids, lock those doors and hold that girl of yours tight, because you never know which night will be your last.

“I’ll leave you with ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’ by Blue Öyster Cult. Keep it tuned right here to WGTR 96.6. I’ll be back tomorrow night, with a special recording of a classic tale of terror from Vincent Price’s own radio show. This is DJ Voyeur, signing off.

“And, remember, ‘someone’s always there.’”

The voice from the radio erupted in sinister laughter, which faded as the song began.

The girl hit the radio power button with the palm of her hand.

“Ugh,” she said. “Honestly, Dean, I don’t know how you listen to that stuff. That guy gives me the creeps.” She shivered slightly, drawing her arms around her body.

Dean unbuckled his seatbelt and slid closer to the petite blonde.

“Aww, that is so cute,” he said. “Is Trish scared of the big, bad boogeyman coming through the radio and getting her?” His voice had the mocking tone of a child’s nursery rhyme.

Trish swatted Dean away from her.

“No,” she said. “It’s not that…”

Her voice trailed for a moment. In the silence, frogs and grasshoppers could be heard chirping their nighttime song.

She turned to Dean. “You think it’s true?” she asked. “The killer stalking those couples at night?”

Dean laughed. He pushed himself closer to Trish, as close as the gearshift would allow, and put his arm around her. “I’ll be here to protect you, baby.”

Trish rolled her eyes.

“Besides,” he continued. “That’s just local legend. It goes around every few years, but no one I know has ever…”

The sound of breaking glass interrupted Dean. Trish screamed as someone pulled a mask over her face and pulled her through the window into the darkness.

“Welcome back, my minions of mayhem. You’ve just been listening to the Psycho theme song, composed by Danny Elfman. All in preparation for tonight’s special presentation, ‘The Price of Fear.’ If you don’t have the creeps yet, you will. So sit back, turn out the lights–if you dare–and listen to the artful storytelling brought to you by that tyrant of terror, Vincent Price.“Enjoy this next hour, commercial-free, only on the Graveyard Shift. And only with your favorite DJ, the father of fright, DJ Voyeur.

“The scream you hear just might be your own.”

He gave his best villainous laugh, before he reached out and flipped a switch on the computer board. He took the earphones from his head and placed them delicately on the table beside him.

Swiveling his chair around so he could face the terrified blonde girl bound and gagged on his floor, he stretched out his hand to caress her head.

She looked up at him, muttering something between teeth clenched on the blue bandanna that had been tied tightly around her head. Her eyes were wet with tears, streaking black mascara down her red and swollen face.

“That should give us plenty of time, my dear,” the man said. He patted her head once more, taking time to wipe her eyes with his thumb.

He looked over the tray he had set, fingering the blades of all sizes, newly polished. He chose one, holding it up to the light.

“Now, where shall we begin?”