Tag: horror

Comes earlier

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Christmas comes earlier every year.

Stores put the displays and trees before Halloween.

That’s why the elves went on strike.

You see, they’ve been working without a contract for over a century now.

While the reindeer still only work one night, the elves still have to ramp up production faster and faster for these earlier holiday sales.

Faster turnaround means less time for maintenance, too.
More work accidents, drinking on the job – that kind of thing.

Santa didn’t pay attention to the growing discontent in the workshop.

The elves are building a bonfire.

Santa’s tied to a stake, screaming.

Stoned Dead

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The five of us sitting around the table, her pacing back and forth asking us why.
It’s been less than an hour since she died, but her ghost is talking to all of us already.
Usually, if a ghost will show up, it takes a week.
When the spirit is strong or the death is particularly
violent, it’ll bounce off of Heaven and echo quickly.
Drinking a lot or smoking a bunch of dope makes it easier to sense them.
Her purse was full of weed. Couldn’t let that go to waste, right?
We’ll save a little for the funeral.

The Rider

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They may be hideous in appearance, but no goblin would be caught being rude.
“Sears,” says the creature. “And your name is?”
The topiary, a shrub groomed to look like a green poodle, said nothing.
“I need to be in Waco by sunrise,” said Sears, and he hopped on the back of the topiary. “Let us ride.”
For all the shouting, the topiary didn’t budge an inch.
The morning dew settles on the goblin’s frozen body, turned to stone by the daylight.
“Who put this ugly thing out here?” said the groundskeeper, knocking the goblin to pieces with a trowel.

The Camp

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I saw him in a bar. He was the bartender.
Turned out he owned the place.
Thirty years ago, he had a gun to my head, laughing as he pulled the trigger.
The gun was empty, the bullets fired at my family.
All dead, there in the middle of the camp.
Here. Now.
I asked for a beer, he put a glass in front of me.
I drank, pulled out a knife, and stabbed him in the chest.
“How’s it feel to die in front of your enemy?” I ask.
He laughed and said “Ask yourself. The beer is poisoned.”

Devil’s Night

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They call this night the Devil’s Night because kids set fires to usher in Halloween.
One year, they got what they wanted, and The Devil showed up to survey the damage.
“You call this devastation?” He howled. “I’ve seen entire empires laid waste, nothing but ashes from ocean to ocean!”
He spat at on the sidewalk and laughed.
The kids burned more houses, but it wasn’t enough for The Devil.
Cops arrived and arrested the kids.
Instead of becoming Satanists, jail house imams converted them to Islam.
For them, any size fire was fine.
Especially when it involved killing Jews.

Pumpkin Screams

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This genetic engineering shit gives me a case of the heebie jeebies.
These newfangled pumpkins scream and ooze blood when you carve them.
When it got to Thanksgiving turkeys that gobble to the tune of “over the river and through the woods” even after you cut their heads off, I got worried.
How did it start? Let me think… It started with a simple splice of DNA to produce Yule logs that burn with natural cinnamon spice scent.
All downhill from there, rabbits laying eggs and crazy shit like that.
Oh. Great. Here comes Santa Clone.
Earlier every damn year.

Bring Him Back

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The poster was supposed to say Dead Or Alive, but it ended up saying Dead And Alive.
Before we could fix the mistake, the poster was up in every Post Office.
Replacements were sent out the next week, but by then, we’d gotten our man.
He’s in the holding cell, Dead And Alive.
No, I haven’t seen him. All I know is, the guy who brought him in said he was, and he wanted to collect on the full reward.
I don’t know what Dead And Alive means. Do you?
Maybe we should just leave him for the next shift?

Servant

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We need more sticks for wands.
Kiss your fingertips, touch the gate, and walk into the cemetery.
Without the kiss, the cemetery’s residents will be insulted.
With the kiss, you will have a safe journey to the Tree Of Souls.
Gather the loose branches. Do not take from the tree itself – that is certain destruction.
These powerful twigs will make excellent wands for necromancy, magic of the dead.
My best ones come from here in fact. Powerful enough to raise the dead and make them obedient servants.
Such as yourself.
Now, be a good zombie, and get me those twigs.

Deathface

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The law says three days.
The machines can do five.
With modifications, seven.
That’s how long Spencer wants.
He’s got Deathface. Sunken eyes and cheeks, grey skin, eyebrows gone, raspy breathing.
The law says not to send a Deathface down. Notify the police if one comes to your Coma Center. Or if someone asks for a week.
It can’t be called an accident because the wastebag has to be changed and the
morphine refilled. The inspectors will know.
No, I say. I can do five. Not seven.
Spence left and I never saw him again.
Nobody saw him. Just vanished.

Elevator

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The elevator doors open and I step in.
The doors close.
Usually, it’s a smooth ride. And very peaceful.
But I can hear breathing.
Loud, heavy breathing. Raspy. Angry.
I don’t want to look… I watch the numbers.
More breathing.
It’s starting to scare me.
The numbers go up… and up… and up…
The breathing is unbearable.
The elevator stops and the doors open.
I run out of the elevator and watch the doors close, sealing the breathing in once again.
Hopefully, they’ll switch the tape back to the elevator music. This Halloween loop tape is really creeping me out.