MicroHorror

The man’s jump was successful. He leapt from the ledge, freefell for several stories and his parachute majestically expanded as he glided toward the busy city sidewalk. Griogair wanted to duplicate the man’s actions.

He groaned while lifting from his pedestal. He tilted forward and leapt clumsily. He fell freely, extending his arms to feel the pillow of air underneath. He opened his eyes to see the ground was nearly upon him. His heart sank when there was no parachute to save him.

He shattered upon hitting the ground. Jagged shards of granite sprayed passersby. And the other gargoyles laughed.

The chase began after I saw the man murder a woman in the hallway. The building was mostly vacant after a late-night party. I chased him up several flights of stairs before reaching the roof.

The man was at the ledge when I caught up with him. He stared at me with coldly as I attempted to talk him down. In his hand he held a heart. Evidently he took it from the woman in the hallway. I stared in horror as he bit into it and jumped off the roof. He extended rudimentary wings and disappeared into the horizon.

“She was a demon! I swear it!” The man twisted and contorted in vain against the steel handcuffs.

“Tell it to the judge, freak.” The officer lowered the man’s head and pushed him into the back of the car.

The crime scene was terrible. Another dead prostitute at the hands of the “madman.” He was finally apprehended after two long years.

Soon another will be commissioned by the church. Another martyr will keep up the good fight against the succubae that haunt the street corners. In the meantime, countless will be seduced and the balance will again be shifted.

The mossy steps led to the water’s edge; it was murky as ever. The creature was met with resistance again. He shuffled toward the cool depths of his shelter. Tears met the expanding ripples generated by his webbed feet. Who knew a creature such as he could lament?

The setting sun darkened the hillside, yet then blazed alight from a hoard of torch-wielding villagers. They chattered slanderous, hateful things. If only the woman wouldn’t have screamed, he wouldn’t have murdered her. He dove into the water, washing away the blood and matted hair from his conscience. Tomorrow is another day.

His blood-painted teeth flashed in the moonlight. He bellowed at the moon in a frustrated rage. He took another life. Albeit an insignificant vagrant this time, it disturbed him all the same as the others. The life would not be enough to sustain him. One is never enough.

A waft of a breeze caught his feral interest. He glared through a bay window at a family playing board games together. His stomach growled and twisted in response. There was no stopping him from advancing on them now. He hoped they had silver and the nerve to end his horror.

Blake watched the young woman walk the city street. She reminded him of his other prey. She peered into an alleyway. Evidently she was lost.

Blake stepped out of his van and followed her for a block. She teetered as she walked. Blake’s heart fluttered. She must be drunk, he thought. She was going to be even easier than the others. She turned into another alleyway. The time had arrived.

Blake flipped open his knife blade. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her violently. Her expressionless, undead eyes met his just before she bit his throat with a moist crunch.

The tour bus careened off the highway and into a tree. The three band members slowly climbed to their feet. The driver’s head was crushed by the oak tree that shredded through the front of the bus. The smell of gasoline and antifreeze was overpowering.

The three band members observed each other in horror. Two were missing heads and one had an arm off. The bassist and lead singer traded heads after realizing their initial error. The drummer reattached his arm. He looked at the driver and said, “I sure hope somebody comes by with a truck for the gear.”

The priest stepped into the main hall. His reserved smile reflected his sense of accomplishment. The house was completely blessed. Only a few more flicks of holy water to accompany a prayer and the job would be finished. The Andersons patiently waited outside for his welcoming smile in the doorway.

They entered upon his summons. He assured them the house was in fine order and livable. Mr. Anderson shook the priest’s hand while thanking him. Just before departing the priest was crushed under the weight of the felled chandelier. Two mischievous spirits cackled while swinging from the broken chain above.