Tag: horror

Is it pie?

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I’m looking at my windowsill.
There is a pie there, cooling slowly.
I try to smell which flavor it is, but I can’t tell.
You should be able to tell what flavor a pie is from smelling it.
So I’m wondering if this is really pie.
I’ve heard rumors about this. Stories.
Bad stories.
I should be careful.
So, I poke it with a knife, and the pie crust moves.
It’s a fake. A doppieganger, pretending to be pie.
I stab it with the knife.
It’s a delicious, blueberry doppieganger.
Satisfied, I reach for the ice cream and a fork.

group therapy

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every time i hear someone say that i’m as crazy as a shithouse rat, it pisses me off.
i’m far, far crazier than a shithouse rat. in fact, in group therapy, when i was put in a room full of shithouse rats, the shithouse rats all cowered in a corner while i just sat there and grinned.
one by one, i bit their heads off and ate them. their crazy skulls crunched between my teeth, like rat-flavored candies.
now the doctors just drug me and tie me up. but to be honest, i’ve never been a fan of group therapy.

Brickle Me Elmo

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She goes absolutely everywhere with that Elmo doll.
Those two are inseparable.
Five year-olds do that kind of thing. Clinging to your toys,
But when they’re sixteen, that’s when you should be concerned.
So, am I concerned?
I’m not.
Try not to be surprised.
You see, Staci emptied out the doll’s head and put a brick in it.
So far, she’s brained two rapists and a mugger.
“Self defense” worked for the DA. No charges filed.
That’s my girl.
I wish she’d let me wash it. The dried blood and bits of scalp don’t quite match the red fabric fur.

Burning Hands

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Both of my hands are wrapped in bandages.
I don’t know why I held them over the fire.
It didn’t hurt at first. Then, it hurt. A lot.
The skin and nerves are gone from what muscle and bone remains.
I can’t tell how many fingers I have left. The bandages keep me from seeing them.
When they change the bandages, they won’t let me see.
“You do not want to see them yet,” the nurse says.
She puts another pill in my mouth, holds up a cup with a straw, and says everything will be fine.
And I sleep.

Maggots

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I was in the hospital, laid up with a broken leg when the word got out that zombies were on the loose.
No guns. No machetes. Just fire extinguishers and the occasional bone saw.
That’s when it hit me.
“Maggots eat dead flesh,” I said. “Release a bunch of maggots and they’ll eat the zombies.”
The nurse went down to the stockroom and brought out three trays of maggots.
“Is that all?” I asked. “I was hoping for huge barrels full of the things. Maybe fill a moat with them.”
No.
Bar the doors. And pray the army shows up.

Voltmaster’s Garden

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The Gardener of the Voltmaster’s hedge maze is the only man alive who knows how to navigate that nefarious path of thorns, pits, and snares.
We release five goblins into the north end of the maze and place five bags of gold coins at the southern exit.
These five bags are the same ones that have been used from year to year, because no goblin has ever completed the maze.
The Gardener usually waits a week before going in with a large burlap sack to collect their bodies.
“More volunteers for the resurrectionist!” he says, shaking the bag and laughing.

Executioner

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When the queen called for my head, I knew I was doomed.
But when she called for my head to be brought to her on a paper plate, well, thatreally bothered me.
“Shouldn’t that be on a silver platter?” I asked.
The executioner shrugged. “Sorry, man. I’m only following orders.”
He took me down to the dungeon, tied my hands behind my back, and knelt me before the chopping block.
“Maybe it has to do with the fact that it’s hard to wash blood off of silver?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. He just raised the axe and swung.

I Killed The Moon

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Look at this knife.
This knife is mine.
I threw it at the moon.
And killed it.
Its blood raining down.
Dead.
Police station.
Jail. Behind bars.
Arrested for murder.
Other cells hold drunks. Hookers. Thieves.
I am the only murderer.
“Why did you do it?” asks the cop.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I had a knife. It was there. It followed me home.”
This angers him.
“Why did you do it?” he shouts.
I really don’t know. All I know, is that I killed the moon.
Every night, my victim up there in the sky.
Still following me.

Count To Ten

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She tied me to a chair and broke each of my fingers, one by one.
As she did it, she looked me in the eyes, and her smile got wider and wider with every finger she broke.
She held my hand, my left thumb slipped between her lips and she sucked on it slowly.
“Don’t!” I said.
I felt her teeth against my skin.
“This is going to hurt,” she said. And with my thumb in her teeth, she broke it clean.
Tomorrow, she will sign my casts and leave.
And she’ll wait for the day they come off again.

Migration

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Watch the spaghetti for me.
Don’t let it overcook. And don’t let it escape.
Remember the last time the spaghetti got loose? It took an entire legion of the Baron’s soldiers to subdue and drive back to the kitchen.
If it hadn’t been so delicious, both of us would have lost our heads.
They say that spaghetti is supposed to be easy, but when you forget to salt the water, all kinds of curses and maliciousness gets into the pasta.
The meatballs are screaming again?
Best not to serve them at all. We’ll use olive oil and pepper this time.