《Whispers of Death》


 Sassafras and Candied Apples

    Halloween settled over the town of Glassford like a thick, poisonous miasma. Every year the holiday brought with it its fair share of controversy. Glassford was simply one of those towns where the few that disliked Halloween happened to be very loud. To be fair, some of the complaints were accurate. Juvenile delinquents toilet papering houses, egging vehicles, etc. But what reason was that for destroying everyone else''s fun? In fact, this year the local piano bar was throwing their own Halloween bash, much to the octogenarians'' dismay. Then again, many of them had issues with the bar''s presence in the first place. Granted, it was the owner''s decision what they did with their establishment.


    The theme for the party was carnivals, and upon entering the bar I was immediately greeted with jaunting music and the heavy smell of sugar, spice, popcorn, and other sweets one might find at a typical outdoor celebration. It was wonderful. People danced and twirled in costumes made up to look like clowns, their faces painted or covered in masks. Laughter filled the room and it was a sweet, joyful sound. I made my way to the bar, pulled myself up onto a stool, ordered a drink, and watched the crowd enjoy themselves. A few moment''s later I started when I heard a voice beside me.


    "...isn''t it?"


    It was an old woman, sipping at a glass of sassafras while a half eaten candied apple browned with ribbons of oxidation sat on a plate beside her. Appropriate fare for the night''s celebration, really. I couldn''t make out her features due to the gaudy lighting of the room, and as I inhaled, I decided that was probably a good thing. She reeked of death. How long had she been sitting next to me?


    "I''m sorry... what?" I replied awkwardly, doing my best to slowly let my breath out and conceal the fact that I found her stench sickening.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Never mind," she muttered, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at me. Slowly, she lowered herself from her stool and stood on her feet. As she made her way toward the pianist, I couldn''t help but notice that she seemed to practically glide across the dance floor, easily maneuvering between the dancers with a sort of grace that seemed impossible given her apparent age.


    She leaned down and whispered something in his ear, but I have no idea what she said. All I know is that his face paled and he stood up, backing away from the bench with a look of utter terror. He gestured to the piano with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, inviting her to sit down--and she did. She began to play a tune, something awful. It was sharp and jarring, discordant and chaotic. So much so that I watched as one woman, so thrown off by the sudden change in music, tripped and, I''m pretty certain, sprained her ankle. Others turned to stare, some open-mouthed, others drunkenly cursing. The old lady paid them no mind, instead opening her mouth. That''s when things got bad.


    At this point, I shouldn''t even be considering her a woman, but how else can I describe what I saw? That thing looked like an old woman before she began to play the piano. Before her eyes took on an ethereal glow. Before her mouth opened impossibly wide, like her jaw had come unhinged. Before that horrible keening tore itself from her throat. It took a moment for the reactions to come, and perhaps because I was sitting further away from the majority of the others, I was spared the initial onslaught.


    Some began to run, caught up in a dizzying panic. When they collided with another, they broke out into brutal brawls. They tore at one another, clawing and biting flesh. Even if it was their own loved ones. There was no hesitation as they beat each other to death. And those not caught up in the awful violence that had broken out in the establishment? They collapsed to the floor, holding their heads between their hands as blood began to pour from every orifice.


    I could feel it. The awful ringing in my ears. That''s when I got up and I ran. I ran like hell to escape that bar, and I never looked back.

 Keep a Secret

    On Sunday, I learned a secret about my family. I always thought we were pretty normal, aside from the fact that my parents would go out some nights and not come home. We lived on the edge of Glassford, a reasonably small town of just over ten thousand souls. Our family had a large home on a well-wooded plot of land, with a long drive--which made walking to the bus stop a real pain in the ass, especially during the winter and summer months. My sister was a few years older than me, so I always assumed my parents were just going out drinking and leaving her to watch me. Except this night in particular, my sister was gone too.


    My curiosity got the better of me so I went snooping around Dad''s office. In his desk, I found a tattered old notebook. Inside it, there was a map of an island not too far from our house. I knew where it was from my adventures in the back yard. There was a decent sized lake a few acres away and a dock with a couple little wooden boats moored to it. I never really thought to explore the island though. It just¡­ It felt off limits. Finding that map though? It was like something rebelled inside me. There was a need I couldn''t quiet to get out of the house and find out what was on that island.


    I''d be lying if I said I wasn''t uneasy, sneaking out that night. The last thing I wanted was to get caught, just like any other twelve year old. I toyed with the bracelet around my wrist and shivered, even though I had a jacket on. It wasn''t that it was cold, I was just nervous. I found comfort in knowing my sister wore the same bracelet--it was a gift from Mom. The sky was cloudy and when the moon did peek through, it cast an eerie glow through the canopy of the trees. The leaves had already fallen and crunched beneath my feet as I walked. By the time I reached the water, it felt like I''d run a marathon. God, I was out of shape. But my sister was no better. Our parents didn''t seem to care that we were fat. We loved food and as long as we were happy, they were happy.


    As I climbed into one of the boats, I gasped for air and worried that it''d tip over. It rocked from side to side, threateningly. When it finally settled, I exhaled slowly with relief and sat there for a long moment. I inhaled the scent of its wood and looked around, wondering for a moment whether or not I was crazy. Grabbing one of the oars, I ran my fingers along its grain and felt the rough splinters. Another shiver ran through my body. I''d come this far, why give up now? I picked up the second oar and I began to paddle.


    The boat glided smoothly along the lake, but I huffed and puffed the entire way. The water was like glass, and I was like a dying animal. I had barely made it a hundred feet from the dock before the pain set in and by the time I was halfway across the lake, my arms ached to the point I wanted to cry. When I finally reached the other side of the water, it was an entirely new struggle to get out of the boat. I held my breath as it leaned dangerously to the side. For a moment, I risked falling into the cold water.


    By then, the cloud coverage was complete and there was no longer any moonlight to illuminate the way, so I pulled out my cell phone and flicked the flashlight on. It lit up a surprisingly well-maintained path and I followed it, my palms sweaty from exertion and nerves. I shouldn''t have been there, and I knew that. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck raising in protest, but I had to know what was on this island. I had to know why there was a map of it in that notebook.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    As I continued along the path, an old, decrepit house eventually came into view. It was a mansion. Something that, at one time, was undoubtedly gorgeous. Our family was wealthy, but I never imagined it was old money. My parents didn''t act like it, anyway. They weren''t snobby or uptight. In fact, they were often the life of the parties when they went, and often they brought us along to have our cheeks pinched and all that good old annoying stuff that older people do. This house though¡­ man. I tried to imagine it in its glory days, and I just don''t think I could do it justice.


    Now, though? Now it just looked like a shell of its former self. Where once stood grand gables and beautiful archways, now stood sagging eaves and leaning pillars. The paint was peeling off of it and many of the windows were broken. Its chimneys were crumbling and in some places, the walls had begun to deteriorate entirely. The door appeared to barely hold on by its hinges.


    When I reached the door, I twisted the knob to see if it would open and it did. Immediately, my nose was assaulted by the stench of rot and decay. Dust powdered my face and it took every ounce of self-control not to sneeze. I was afraid that if I did, the whole house would fall down. It just looked so damned delicate. I turned my phone, shining the light back and forth as I took in my surroundings. The place was still furnished, though the cloth of its sofas and chairs was moth-eaten and mildewed. The wallpaper was yellowed and peeling and in some places the walls themselves were crumbling. Cobwebs clung to the chandeliers. It gave off an eerie atmosphere that sent chills down my spine.


    I spotted a set of rickety stairs leading upwards and decided to continue my exploration, thinking I''d find something cool. Maybe an old haunted heirloom or something. That''s when I heard a squelching noise coming from one of the other rooms on the floor I was on. Fear froze me. It''s probably just a raccoon or squirrel, I tried to rationalize with myself, but really I wasn''t so sure. I was terrified. It could be anything in such a huge, old house. None the less, I metaphorically "grew a pair" and began wandering through the rooms of the house''s lower level. First I found study, a library full of old books that, if I had to guess were probably worm eaten, and then a dining room.


    In the dining room, I found a jewelry box. Odd place for that, right? I lingered momentarily and swept my gaze around the room, almost as if expecting someone to pop out and surprise me. By this time my hands were shaking, but I managed to put down my phone, pick up the box, and open it. Inside were several bracelets just like the ones my sister and I wore. I freaked out and dropped the box. That''s when I heard that awful noise again. It was coming from the next room over: the kitchen. Shaking uncontrollably, I grabbed my phone and, shining the light ahead of me, walked into the kitchen. That was where I found them.


    My parents. They were eating something. It was raw and blood was smeared all over their faces. Its entrails hung from their mouths and when I entered the room they both looked up at me. Mom''s mouth fell open, gore spilling from within as she stared, awestruck before swapping a glance with Dad.


    "What the fuck! What the fuck! What is this?" I demanded, my voice shrill and panicked. I mean, I just walked in on my parents chowing down on some uncooked mystery meat like savages. Dad stood from where he was hunched over and made to approach me, his index finger lifting to his lips in a shushing motion. That''s when I saw it, hanging from the wrist of my parents'' victim. The bracelet. It wasn''t mystery meat they were eating. It was my sister.