The Doll Tree- A Very Short Spooky Bedtime Story

Have you seen it? The doll tree? Hanging piece by piece. Heads, arms, legs and bodies. Swaying in the wind. Have you heard them? The dolls? Chattering, laughing and calling. Talking through the wind. Can you feel them? Staring, watching and looking. Feel their eyes on your neck as you walk by. Be careful, beware. If you go to the doll tree, you might not leave alone.

Come back next week if you dare, for the legend of the doll tree…


House of Horrors (part of the Spooky Bedtime Stories)

This is my first attempt at fan fiction with the Daily Prompt,  Writing challenge of An Interview. 

My story revolves around the world created by Rob Zombie in House of 1,000 Corpses and Devil’s Rejects.
He sat drumming the steering wheel of his car. “Where was she?” This was so unlike him but he needed answers. He kept checking the review mirror. He could feel his pulse racing. He hated this place. Just sitting in front of it him gave him the creeps. He wanted to be anywhere but here, at the Devil’s house of horrors. It wasn’t much of a house anymore. Fire, old age and time had destroyed much of it. He could hear the engine and exhaust when he noticed an old beat up Volkswagen bug driving up the dirt drive way.
“Finally,” he thought. “Let’s get this over.” He got out of his car to wait. The car pulled up next to his and a short round lady climbed out of the driver’s seat. He chuckled to himself. She reminded him of a witch with her long black hair and long red finger nails. Even her dress reminded him of a witch. She shivered as she hobbled over to the agent.
“Agent Polisson?”
“Yes. My child, what has possessed you to want to come here? To this place? Can’t you feel it? This place is evil. This is the devil’s house. Oh child, this place has haunted my dreams and visited my visions. Oh, the trapped souls, so many of them. The pain. The inhumanity.” She grabbed her heart with one hand and covered her mouth with the other. She looked pale. She looked sick.
“Jennabeth? Are you okay?” He grabbed her arm.
She looked at him. Her green eyes peering into his deep brown eyes.
“Agent Polisson the horrors I have seen. The stories this house shares. I will never be okay. Never. And if you push on to do this. Neither will you. We need to leave.” Both of her hands now grasped his arm. She pleaded. “This is no place of us. Let it go. Leave it.”
Peter Polisson hesitated. Did he really need to know? Did he want to know what she saw? He forced himself to speak.
“Yes, we have to. All the missing. If I can bring peace.”
“Your peace. Your family’s peace. You want to know about your sister? A cheerleader. Just know she was here and leave it at that. You don’t want to know the rest. It does you, your family, the victims’ family no good being here. Once we step into the remains of that house of horrors your soul will be tainted. We need to leave.” He could see the fear in her eyes. She could see the determination in his. She shook her head. “I have done the best to protect us. But I can only do so much. This house is evil. This house is the devil. Trust me. Know that your sister was here. Let it go. Let her go and let’s leave.”
For a split second he hesitated. Curiosity took over. “How bad can it be? Fire and age have wrecked this house. Police and field agents have taken all the evidence they could. It couldn’t be as bad as the first on the scene.” Rationalizing his decision to press on. He looked at her.
“Jennabeth the sooner we are done, the better. I don’t like it here anymore than you do. Now you said you could connect to the house. That’s all I’m asking. I paid you in advance. Give me what I need.”
“I cannot give you what you need. Your wife is sterile.” He looked at her. How did she know that? Why was she saying it? He figured she was trying to scare him, use some of her psychic mumbo-jumbo to get of helping him. He shook his head, looked down at his shoes and proceeded into the house.
The two of them stood in the what once was the living room. He didn’t know what had come over him. He was doing his best not to throw up. Jennabeth just stood there. Silent.
“What do you want?”
Peter looked puzzled, “you know what I want. I want proof, evidence, victims’ identification.”
“Think I’d betray my family?”
Peter realized he was now talking to the house.
“No, no. I’m sorry. I just want to understand. Preserve their legacy. They are famous, you know? This is a house of legends.”
Jennabeth was almost whispering, “So many. So strong. The pain. Suffering.” She sat on the charred remains of a chair. She grabbed Peter’s hand. “I don’t know how much more I can take. The house, he is so strong. I never met such a powerful presence. It’s as if it feds of the suffering.” She paused. Panic filled her face. “Oh, it enjoyed it.” Tears were streaming down her anguished ridden face.
“How many victims?” Peter was frantic. “Their names, Jennabeth, their names!”
Jennabeth’s face turned sullen. “Victims? Victims? They were not victims. They were volunteers, projects, experiments, toys.” Her voice was boastful.
“Sorry. How many people were experiments, volunteers, projects and toys?
“I don’t know. Hundreds. If not more.”
Peter was getting frustrated. He started to pace, trying to formulate his next question. When Jennabeth started to rattle off name after name. Peter scrambled to write them down.
“Silence!” Jennabeth yelled and sitting straight up, staring at the remains of a wall. “Shut up woman. We could turn you into a bug woman with 8 legs and no arms. And the man use his face for a mask and give him another face, perhaps yours.” This followed by a menacing, wicked laugh. Jennabeth’s head dropped. Softly, more names spilled from her mouth until she stood up. She grabbed Peter by the throat, her finger nails digging into his neck. He was amazed at her strength and grip. He gasped for air. He grabbed her arm and tried to break her grip. It was useless. “You inquisitive fools. Always wanting to find the legendary Dr. Satan. Fools. So easily lead astray. Listening to the ramblings of a crazy clown. Won over by beauty. You all came right to us. We just sat and waited. If they didn’t want to die than why did they come? Curiosity. You come to my remains to question me? In your suit with your badge, asking questions and you thought I’d answer? You took my family. This was a happy home. You will all pay for what you have taken from me!”
Jennabeth’s let go of Peter’s neck. He bent over catching his breath. Dread filled her eyes, “Peter we have to go and we have to go now.” She tried to grab his hand but he did not move. She turned to run out when Peter struck her in the head with a fallen wooden ceiling beam.
Far underground Dr. Satan grinned. Jennabeth’s face plagued with terror. Peter’s face shined with pleasure.
“Fools. Curiosity gets them every time.” Peter said watching Dr. Satan prepare for surgery.

Why Can’t I Be You?

light through darkness

“You’re so gorgeous
I’ll do anything
I’ll kiss you from your feet
To where your head begins”1

Played on the radio. She was getting tired. She had been driving all night. Just a little farther she kept telling herself. Almost there. She really wasn’t almost there. She had no idea where there was. All she knew was that she needed to get as far away from him, as she possible could.

“You’re so wonderful
Too good to be true
You make me, make me, make me
Make me hungry for you”2

He had been too good to be true. He had been wonderful. What went wrong? He, that’s what went wrong. Her stomached growled, she was getting hungry. No, she had to keep driving. She couldn’t stop. No matter what. She couldn’t stop.

“Everything you do is simply delicate
Everything you do is quite angelicate
Why can’t I be you? Why can’t I be you?”3

Why couldn’t she be somebody else. Anybody else. She didn’t ask for this. She didn’t want any of this. And how dare he say those things about her. He had no right. He was crazy. That’s what she kept telling herself. He was crazy. He deserved everything he got.

“I’ll run around in circles
‘Til I run out of breath
I’ll eat you all up
Or I’ll just hug you to death”4

He had her running in circles. She wasn’t going to run in circles anymore. She was fed up. she was tired. She was done. Again her stomach growled. No, she couldn’t stop. She looked out the window at the dark night sky. Grey and cloudy. No moon in sight. Where was she? How long had she been driving? Her eyes kept shutting. Her head kept dropping forward and then she jolt awake.  “Next exit, I’ll pull over. Next hotel. I’ll stop. He can’t find me, I’ve gone too far.”

“You’re so wonderful
Too good to be true
You make me, make me, make me
Make me hungry for you”5

That word, hungry. Seemed to make her stomach growl louder. She went to change the station, but this station was the only station coming in. “Fine. Guess this will have to do.”

“Everything you do is simply delicate
Everything you do is quite angelicate
Why can’t I be you? Why can’t I be you?”6

Again her mind wandered.  Her life had been a dream come true. She had fallen in love with the perfect man, wealthy, good looking, and kind. He had promised her the world and he delivered. She had let herself be swept away by the money, the lifestyle, the dream. And now look at her?

“You turn my head when you turn around
You turn the whole world upside down
I’m smitten, I’m bitten, I’m hooked, I’m cooked
I’m stuck like glue”7

She looked down at her hands. They were covered in blood. Looking in the mirror, she saw the blood on her face. She looked down at her clothes, she was covered in blood. “This is his fault.” She told herself. She couldn’t get a room looking like she had just murdered someone. They won’t understand. She pulled the car over to the side of the road. Grabbing her water bottle, she ran to the back of the car. Feverishly trying to wash her hands and face. She threw her jeans in the trunk and grabbed another pair. Found an old sweatshirt in her bag and threw it on. She had done a horrible job of packing. Just grabbing anything and everything. Quickly she got back in car and on the road. She again glanced in the mirror. “Okay,” she told herself. “Just look like I’ve been camping.” The lies never stopped.

“You make me, make me, make me
Make me hungry again”8

Oh how her stomach ached. She needed to eat and she needed to eat soon. Again she looked out the window at the sky. Grey and cloudy. Still no moon in sight. Still pitch black.

“Everything you do is simply dreamy
Everything you do is quite delicious
So why can’t I be you?
Why can’t I be you? Why can’t I be you?”9

She slid into the dirt parking lot of the hotel. “He’ll never think to look for me here. Perfect.” She tried to fix her hair. She put on her lipstick. Grabbed her purse. Once inside she repeatedly rang the service bell. She could hear the same song that was playing in the car, playing off in the background of the lobby.  She bounced in place, kept looking out the window. Her body was ridden with anxiety.

“Why can’t I be you? Why can’t I be you?
Why can’t I be you? Why can’t I be you?”10

“Can I help you?” The unkempt hotel clerk asked. She was disguised by him. Food stains down the front of his shirt. He wrecked of alcohol and cigarettes.
“Yes, I need a room.” She said as she walked over to the window and peered out. Turning around and hitting her hand on the counter top. “Now!”

He smirked at her. “It’ll be $100 cash?”

“Are you serious?” She started to dig through her purse. The clouds started to part the sky. The moonlight illuminated the lobby.

“You’re simply elegant”11

The clerk was sprawled out behind the counter. She howled before she ripped off another bite. “I should have stayed on the road. He should have listened.” Her hunger always got the best of her.

1-11Why Can’t I be You” by the Cure

The Red Sweater- Spooky Bedtime Stories

Hopefully, I have killed two birds with one stone. Written a story from three perspectives, as well as, omitted adverbs. This story continues with my Spooky bedtime stories for Halloween. I hope you enjoy!

Bloody Painting
“That damn tiny red sweater.” He thought. Now he was crying. Was he going to have to explain himself to her? Could she handle his deepest darkest secret? She must know, she looks like a witch, old petite and wrinkly. “Just look at her hook noise.” He thought to himself. She’s the one, she’s the one who cursed me all those years ago and she’s here to curse me again.
“Honey? What’s wrong? What is it?” She asked with concern in her eyes. She had never seen him this emotional. It wasn’t like him to just break down and cry.
The little old lady continued to knit the sweater, not looking up she grinned. She thought it was peculiar that a grown man of his demeanor would just start to cry. She liked that felt comfortable enough to express his emotions. She figured the couple had just found out they were expecting their first child, a welcome miracle since they had struggled to conceive. She herself remembered the toil of pregnancy. She noted that the young lady did not look pregnant. She must have been half the age of the gentleman she was with. She was beautiful and fit. “Maybe it’s too early to show,” she thought. The old woman had three lovely children and five grandchildren. They were not her pride and joy. Her pride and joy was her Yorkshire terrier show dog, Betsy, who was curled up next to her on the bench. Betsy was unmoved by the couple and engulfed in nap. This sweater, however, was not for Betsy. The old lady’s other pride and joy was her massive doll collection. In her old age she had taken to knitting clothing for the dolls to occupy her time. Her family and Betsy had grown tired of knitted presents.
“Could she know my secret?” He thought. “Why is she smiling? She knows, she has to know!” Screamed inside his head. He covered his face and hurried away. The young woman followed.
“Honey! What is wrong?” She couldn’t understand why he had just burst out in tears. “He brought me here to break up with me. He doesn’t love me anymore. I knew it. He saw the little old lady and thinks he is too old for me. We’ve been through this a million times. I don’t know how else to convince him, that I love him. That I don’t think he is too old.”
Panic was taking over the man. He wanted to be anywhere but this moment. He started to run, he didn’t care where he ran too, he just had to get away.

The Stranger (Halloween Version) Part 1 in a series of spooky bedtime tales

Before I dive into my story. I wrote this one for my dear friend Keith.The creature in this story is his favorite.
Why had I waited til the last minute to get my Halloween costume. It’s not like I didn’t know it wasn’t coming or something. No I had procrastinated and now I had only myself to blame. Even more troubling was that I had accepted an invitation to a Halloween Masquerade Ball with a Victorian theme. I had already called all the costume rental stores, nothing. Been all over town and now taking a deep breath was about to enter the overcrowded Halloween Superstore. My last chance. I was hopeful, I had called and the nice man on the phone said that he thought they might have one in stock. Fingers crossed I pushed and shoved my way through the swarm of people. I tried to look over the sea of heads to see I could identify an employee it was hopeless. I was trapped with hundreds of other last minute Halloween costume go getters.
I made my way down each aisle, scanning the remains. While hands reached in and snatched the odds and ends.
“May I help you?” Came a soft, yet masculine voice from behind me. I whirled around. To be face to face with a pair of deep green eyes, that sparkled like stars or diamonds. How cliche, I know. I was caught of guard by the beauty of his eyes and I found myself stammering for words. So very unlike me. “Um, yeah. Yes.” Trying to find my lost confidence. “I called and talk to someone about a Victorian costume. He said you might have one left.” Even though my expectations where not very high. It is after all a Halloween superstore with cheaply made costumes to last maybe the night.
He smiled at me. “Oh yes. I spoke with you. You are in luck. I believe I saw one in the back this morning.” He grabbed my hand to lead me through he dense crowd of panicked last minute shoppers. His skin was surprisingly soft and ice cold.
The warehouse was huge, dark and ominous. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up and sent shivers down my spine. The sooner I was out of here the better. Once alone I noticed his strong physique. He seemed out of place for a Halloween store clerk. He looked more like someone I find in a mosh pit, the gym or a tattoo parlor, not here.
“Wait here,” He said softly. Something about him made my pulse race. I was finding myself deeply attracted to this mysterious stranger. I stood uncomfortably and awkwardly in the dimly lit warehouse waiting anxiously. I felt breath on the back of neck, as if someone or something was sniffing me. I felt a lump in my throat. My heart was racing and my body froze. I was unable to move, paralyzed. My mind raced, who or what was behind me. Trying to calm myself. It’s just my imagination I kept telling myself. Finally I spun around. There he was. “Will this work?” Pushing his blondish brown hair out of his eyes.  He held up the dress.  It looked so authentic, as if it come from the era. I almost fainted, it was perfect. I was feeling more at ease. I had my dress, now all I had to do was pay, hopefully it won’t cost me an arm and leg. Lesson learned, don’t wait to the last minute. I took the dress from his arms. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” That’s when I felt his teeth penetrating my neck. It all happened too fast, I never saw it coming. I melted. Every muscle in my body relaxed and I feel into his embrace.
Of course, I was fashionably late for the party. No make-up needed. I was going to be forever paler than I already was. The ballroom was filled with people dressed to the nines in costumes. It was like a scene out of a movie.
“This dress belonged to one of wives, I don’t remember which one. I’ve been around a long time.” He whispered in my ear. “I knew when you called that you were the one.” He smiled at me. Moving his arm towards me to take a hold of. “Ready my love?” I took a hold of his arm. “The adventures we will share. I cannot wait to show you the world. “ We start to enter the grand ball room, “And which lucky person shall we call dinner tonight?” He says winking at me.