31 Hellish Halloween Tales (Part Three) (Tales 22-31)

*Part Three of my Halloween tales! You can check out the other parts underneath my folder titled “31 Halloween Tales”. Gacha Club character designs are on my wall. Enjoy!*

Tale Twenty-Two-Clown ghost

In the town of Cherry Brook sat the house of Amalie and Blaise, its royal blue paint withered away, its window dark, its cotton white shades pulled in front.

Blaise no longer resided at the house, for he never came back from the circus. Not alive, at least. His body was found with limbs splayed like a rag doll in his circus tent, all of his bones missing, his clown makeup dirtied with dried blood.

Poor Amalie, she was never the same again. She screamed and cried, demanded to know why. But there wasn’t an answer to give, so she had his body cremated and put in a white urn with rainbow polka dots, an urn she herself made just for him.

Amalie had gotten thinner since then, eyes wider since then. She always seemed to stare at passerby’s, to see if they were guilty for Blasie’s murder. No, no one could die in such a haphazard position without having been killed. He was too young, only twenty-two. He had so much to live for.

Amalie was twenty when she heard the news of Blasie’s passing. She was thirty when her seven year old niece Eleni arrived at her front door, grinning cheekily.

“Mommy and Daddy said that we should get to know each other!” Eleni said with a grin.

Amalie tried her best to smile back at the child, but it hurt after so many days of crying.

“Come in.” She said in a voice that strained from sobbing. Her sister Ambre had told her that Eleni was coming.

……………………………………………………

“Now, you can go in any room in the house, except for our room.” Amalie said, pointing to the room that used to be both her and Blasie’s room. His ashes sat on the nightstand, next to her side of the bed.

“What is that?” Eleni asked, pointing to the urn.

“That’s my husband, Blasie. His ashes are in that urn. You are not to go in this room or touch the urn, understand?” Amalie asked.

Eleni nodded slowly. Good. She understood.

“I’ll make sandwiches.” Amalie said. She could have sworn that she heard Blasie walking next to her, but of course, it was in her imagination.

……………………………………………………

That night, Amalie couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, visions of Blasie’s twisted body and frightened eyes in her mind. They posted his picture in the newspaper, she had seen him. Who would want to hurt such a wonderful man like him? What kind of a monster would want to see him suffer? He was the sweetest, kindest person she ever knew and…and he was dead.

“Amalie, wake up.” A voice said in her ear.

Amalie opened her tear-stained eyes. Moonlight shone through the white, ghostlike curtains. Lying next to her was Blasie, rose cream colored wig almost completely hiding his makeuped face.

“Look at yourself. You can’t let yourself go to waste. You don’t deserve this.” Blasie said softly. He put a hand on Amalie’s cheek. She could feel his touch, as though he were really with her.

“But I…I want to know what happened to you! Why would anyone kill you? Who killed you? What-“

Blaise put a finger on Amalie’s lips.

“Mrs.Circe killed me. She was a demon who ate bones. Do not worry, my love. I heard that an angel killed her.” Blasie said.

Amalie paled. The ringmistress was a demon? She seemed like such a joyful person, how could…

But Blaise wasn’t a liar. It was the only reasonable explanation for his death.

“Don’t be afraid, I will watch over you. I will wait for you on the other side. When you come, I will welcome you with open arms.” Blaise said.

“But I’ll be old and-“

“The dead are always young. Now, do me a favor and take care of yourself. I don’t mind being here, but please, please take care of yourself. You don’t deserve this.”

“Will you be back?” Amalie asked. She didn’t want him to leave, ever. The bed was warmer with him around.

“I’ll be right at your side, but you will not see until your end.”

Blaise kissed her on the lips. She could taste his lipstick, it was all so real, she wanted to grasp onto him, to keep him from fading away.

“Go and live your life. I love you.”

……………………………………………………

Amalie woke up with a shock. Sunlight streamed on her window, Eleni was singing to herself downstairs.

Had it all been a dream? Amalie thought. She hoped that it wasn’t, she wanted it to be reality.

She felt someone clasp her right hand. Amalie smiled. It was Blaise, Blaise was holding her hand, just as he used to do.

Her eyes drifted off to the urn. Was she keeping him from passing on? The thought that she was trapping him unsettled her, she wanted him to be happy. She wanted him to be free.

Blaise said that he didn’t mind being with her, being the caring person that he was, but Amalie knew better. She could see the sadness in her eyes.

She would let him go and live her life, just as he wanted.

Amalie looked beside her, to where she knew in her soul that Blaise was looking back at her.

“I love you.” Amalie said.

Her hand was squeezed harder, but not too hard. Eleni sang louder downstairs, sweet, lilting chimes.

“I’ll be down in just a minute!” Amalie said.

There was work to be done.

Tale Twenty-Three-The strange occurrence of Tristesse and Zabrina

Tristesse held tight to Zabrina’s hand as they walked in the Cherry Brook woods. She knew of Shane’s true nature, that he was really a monster clown, but it never got to the point where he couldn’t turn human anymore.

Because of that, he ran off to hide in the woods. Because Tristesse didn’t want Zabrina to grow up without a father, she decided to take her into the woods.

Shane said that humans could become clowns the way humans could become vampires. All a clown had to do was bite them.

Zabrina was already destined to become a clown when she got older, but Tristesse was purely human.

“Where are we going, Mommy?” Zabrina asked.

“To see your father.” Tristesse said, trudging through the dried leaves.

“He’s in here?” Zabrina asked in disbelief.

“Yes, he’s here.” Tristesse replied.

……………………………………………………

Zabrina didn’t ask anymore questions after that. She was still processing the idea that Shane was somewhere in the woods.

“Shane?” Tristesse called out.

No response. Only her voice echoed.

“Shane?!” Tristesse tried again.

Still nothing. Was it all worthless? Was-

“What are you doing here?!” A voice asked behind her.

Tristesse turned around. Standing behind her was Shane, in his true form, still wearing his human clothes.

“Why is Daddy wearing clown makeup?” Zabrina asked.

Shane smiled softly at Zabrina.

“I’m not wearing clown makeup. This is my real face. You’ll turn into this when you’re seventeen.” Shane said.

“I’ll be a clown?” Zabrina asked.

“Yes.” Shane said.

“Yay!” Zabrina said happily. Zabrina wasn’t the type of child who would be terrified of becoming a clown. In fact, she already acted like one.

“Now, why are you here? You could get hurt.” Shane said, eyes darting from Tristesse to Zabrina.

“We came to live with you.” Tristesse said.

“Here? In the woods?” Shane asked, gesturing to the trees surrounding them.

“Yes, in the woods. Where else?” Tristesse asked. They had to be together, they were a family.

“You can’t live in the woods. Everything you need is in the house. It doesn’t make sense.”

“We’ll visit you. We’ll see you. In the meantime, could you bite me?” Tristesse asked. Zabrina did not pay attention to them, her eyes drifted off to the birds in the trees.

Shane sighed.

“You know, being a clown is-“

“Could you please just do it?”

Shane saw the desperation in Tristesse’s eyes and relented.

“Fine. I’ll do it for you.”

Shane bit into Tristesse’s neck, giving her the poison that would turn her into a clown. Zabrina was indifferent to it all, watching the birds.

……………………………………………………

Sometimes, a strange occurrence happens. It’s so unusual, no one knows when it will happen. Sometimes, Tristesse and Zabrina aren’t home. Sometimes, no one sees them for an entire day.

It’s only sometimes, though.

Tale Twenty-Four-Helping the Marsvilles

Once the Verosiscas arrived home, Poppy and Derek Verosisca put Carmen and Maria to bed.

After the girls were sent to bed, Poppy called Ashley on her cell phone, telling her of the Marsville farm. Their conversation went as followed:

“We went to the Marsville farm with the kids.”

“The Marsville farm?! Why?!”

“It was Derek’s idea. I was completely against it, but he convinced me. We found a tentacle creature there. It tried to eat Maria. We need your help to get rid of it. Can you-“

“Hold on, you want me to go there and face it off myself?!”

“No, Ashley, we’ll come with you for moral support.”

“Moral support? What does that do? Besides, you can’t come anyway. Someone has to stay and watch the kids.”

“The kids aren’t human, they can defend themselves.”

“Don’t you want them to be safe?”

Poppy thought of how coming with Ashley, along with Derek, contradicted what she said earlier to Derek about not letting the kids go to the farm. So what if they were monsters? They were still children, they were still vulnerable.

But the thought of leaving Ashley alone, in that abandoned, cursed farm, sickened Poppy to her core. Ashley was her only friend. Ashley did what was best for her. Ashley protected her.

“Derek can stay home. I’m coming with you.”

“Poppy, you don’t-“

“No. I’ve already said it and it’s going to happen. I’m coming with you.”

“What are you talking about?” Derek asked. He had just come out of their bedroom when he heard Poppy talking on the phone.

“I was talking to Ashley. We’re going to the farm.” Poppy said.

“You? But what if you get hurt? What if-“

“I’ll be fine. Stay with the kids.” Poppy said, giving Derek a kiss on the cheek.

……………………………………………………

Poppy had driven for a few minutes until she noticed the ramshackled farm covered with dying vines.

She pulled up to the dirt driveway, what must have been for a tractor a long time ago.

Poppy got out of the car. She noticed Ashley standing outside of the farm, studying its every detail.

“Ashley?! Are you alright?!” Poppy asked, running towards her.

“I’m fine, I just needed some time alone. I’m fine now. I know what’s in this farm.” Ashley said when Poppy got close.

“What is it?” Poppy asked.

“I was in this town in the 1800s. I’ve seen Chloe and Derek. I know that Chloe was a witch, like me. She was a less experienced witch, but she was a witch. Sometimes, when witches feel strong negative emotions like anger, sadness, or hate, a black tentacle creature leaves their body and retreats to the darkness. Usually they die out, but if the feeling is especially strong, it survives. It’s likely that this came from Chloe when Derek left and latched onto here. It might have killed the entire Marsville family.” Ashley said.

“You don’t have to be here, you know. You can leave. All I have to do is get rid of it and then the Marsvilles will go to Heaven.” Ashley said, eyes filled with worry and concern.

“I want to be here. You’re my friend. You were there for me, I’m here for you. You didn’t have to come, but you did. I’m staying.” Poppy said warmly.

“You can leave whenever you want.” Ashley said before walking into the farm, Poppy trailing behind her.

……………………………………………………

The women walked carefully in the farm, every creak squeaking under their footsteps. Poppy noticed a spectral family floating together, a young man and woman, with two small children, those children being a boy and a girl.

The Marsville family. Poppy thought.

Up ahead, the black tentacle creature lurked. The spectral family disappeared, fast as though in fear.

Before anyone could react, a long, slimy, shadowy tentacle reached out and grabbed Poppy’s waist. It was squeezing her, taking away her vital energy. It opened up a cavern of jagged teeth and hot breath, Hell waiting to drag her in.

“Let go of my friend!” Ashley screeched. From her hands came a blast of brilliant blue light, aimed towards the creature.

Chloe was just a girl when the monster was created. Poppy thought as the creature burned before her very eyes. She could feel the tentacle melting, could see the bone teeth clumping together as off-colored white syrup.

The creature shriveled into the blue blaze, letting Poppy go.

Poppy landed in Ashley’s arms, watching the Marsvilles leave for Heaven in a soft pink haze, much like the gauzy curtains on her canopy bed from when she was ten.

I’ll come back home. Ashley is alright. The Marsvilles are safe. But there will always be the ugliness of feelings that will turn into monsters if not taken care of. Poppy thought grimly.

Tale Twenty-Five-We hope you have a killer day!

In the town of Cherry Brook in Friday, September 13th, 1974, there was The Creepy Weirdos Festival, which was held every Friday the 13th, had arrived.

Clove was turning sixteen that day and what better way to celebrate than to attend The Creepy Weirdos Festival?

He played carnival games of Ring Toss and Skee-Ball, conversed with the monsters that hid in the darkness, and had an all-around killer time.

That was, until Clove noticed a cotton candy stand sitting all alone, with not a single person in line. There wasn’t even anyone behind the stand, it was completely empty.

But there was one pink cotton candy stick sitting on the counter with Clove’s name all over it.

He walked up to the stand and took the cotton candy, excited to taste something that was free, that was just for him.

The world went blurry, the sky and the ground melding together into nothingness, until…

Clove closed his eyes, hitting the cement.

………………………………………………………

Clove opened his foggy eyes. He was lying on a patient’s bed, the kind that was in doctor’s offices, in a blue painted room with spark white LED lights.

“Finally, you’re awake.” A distant woman’s voice said.

Still, Clove’s eyes tried adjusting to the light.

“It will be over fast.” The woman said.

She sounded polite, but her voice was slightly…off. Like she had a sinister secret.

Something sharp struck through Clove’s leg, like the stabbing of a knife. Was it a knife? No, it couldn’t be. He was in a doctor’s office, doctors didn’t use knives. They used needles. Yes, it was a needle. He was sure of it.

Only, Clove didn’t remember asking for help…

………………………………………………………

Clove opened his eyes for the second time that day. Something hard and clear was containing him.

He beat at the walls with his hands, howling desperately to get out, but he was trapped. He was trapped in a clear container, his hands were greenish and moldy, skin peeling off.

What happened to him?

Someone was holding the box, carrying him. The sky was the black of night, with not a single star in sight.

Clove screamed, but it was all garbled and wrong.

………………………………………………………

“Here you are!” A woman yelled, the same woman who spoke to him earlier, plopping the box on the ground.

She had blond curls and grayish brown eyes, a smile that was far too kind and wore muted colors of pink and green.

She opened the lid and held Clove in her arms.

“What is-“

The woman threw Clove into a dark river, dirtied water splashing at his eyes. He could see from behind the wet strands of his hair that he was in The Tunnel of Love’s river, with the rose-toned cave surrounding with promises of faded love.

“Good night!” The woman said enthusiastically.

Clove couldn’t feel his legs. It felt as though the bottom of him was opened up into a million pieces, splitting away.

Were those tentacles surrounding him? Long, black tentacles reaching out to kill him?

Clove slapped one of them away and screamed. Why was he the one in pain?

Wait, no…it couldn’t be…but…

He looked down, just to be sure.

On the bottom of his body were eight black, suctioned tentacles, the very ones that were surrounding him.

He was the one with the tentacles.

“I hope that you can sleep better in the dark!” The woman said.

“What-“

The rose lights of the cave snapped off, followed by the footsteps of the woman fading away.

Clove was a tentacle monster. The cotton candy…why did he eat the cotton candy? The woman…she must have poisoned him…turned him into a monster…trapped him in the cave…in the dark.

Not a soul was around. Only him and the sounds of the water swishing around his tentacles. No friends, no family. Just him and the cold, wet water.

Clove couldn’t cry. He was still alive. Or was he? He didn’t feel very much alive. Maybe the woman killed him while she stuck the needle inside. Yes, she killed him. She definitely killed him. He was an undead demon, a creature from Hell.

Though he tried so hard to stop it, Clove cried anyway into his decayed hands.

*This tale connects to the 13th Halloween tale of Part Two of this series.*

Tale Twenty-Six-Daisy’s “demise”

It was the year 1613 when the Cherrybrook family founded the town of Cherry Brook. The Cherrybrook family consisted of Laurel Cherrybrook, Khris Cherrybrook, and their children, Demelza Cherrybrook, eighteen years old, Daisy Cherrybrook, sixteen years old, and Justin Cherrybrook, six years old.

The Cherrybrook family always looked at the bright side and helped the community to the best of their ability. It seemed as though they had a clean slate, hiding not a single secret.

But Daisy read books late into the night, craving the knowledge of the world. Daisy was not married and spoke often, much to the dismay of her parents and her sister.

Daisy tried not to care for what they thought. She simply lived her life as she wanted to, giving herself time and space to learn as much as she could, so that she may do great things one day.

That was, until Cherry Brook was founded. Then, Daisy began disappearing into the woods late at night…

…………………………………………………

Daisy trudged through the woods, black boots speckled with mud. The moonlight sifted through the tree branches. Her family, except for Justin, whispered much about her. They thought that she was strange, a little “out of sorts”. Well! They didn’t know her soul, they didn’t understand like he did.

The people in her town said such funny things, the funniest being that “He is not a man, he is a monster!” whenever a man was found guilty of a heinous crime. As if men were somehow better than monsters because they were covered in soft flesh and had small, dull teeth.

If they only they had known him, then they would know how silly those words were. If only they had known that monsters were more, then they would love greater.

But no, they never wanted to listen.

Daisy stood still in the woods. She was close. All she had to do was wait.

She heard the slithering of a snake, a snake bigger than humanely possible through the dead leaves.

Daisy stood up straighter. It was him, he was coming for her.

First, there was the black snake tail that surrounded her, tight around her waist. Then there was the pale boy with the striking green eyes and soft black hair that almost completely covered his face. The boy and the tail were the same body, a human and an animal put together to make a creature so lovely that it was absolutely terrifying.

His name was Salem. She had met him one night at the woods and never stopped visiting since.

He was enchanting, he was mystical, he was other. He was hers to love and she was his. Each both pledging their entire devotion to the other.

“Did they ask of the books again?” Salem asked.

Daisy nodded. They always asked, they always raised their eyebrows.

He smiled at her sympathetically. His teeth were sharp and many, but never did he bite her. Even if he did, so what? Being poisoned was far better than living a life of lives.

In fact, the idea of him killing her altogether was quite fanciful. To get crushed by his tail, poisoned by his fangs, sent into a whirlwind of blood and organs was sweet, because it would be Salem murdering her out of love, then they would be together forever. No more accusations, no more judgement, no more pointing fingers.

Just eternal peace in the misty woods forevermore…

“Are you thinking about death again?”

“No, Salem. I’m not.” Daisy said.

“I know that you’re lying, I can see it in your eyes. Daisy, I won’t kill you. I don’t want to kill you. You don’t deserve to die. I know that this world seems like it will only get worst. Trust me, it won’t.”

“But everyone has forgotten how to care! They look at me as though I might hurt them. They look at me with such hatred that it’s awful! It’s not right! We’re a community, alright? We’re supposed to be caring towards one another, but they don’t get it! They say words that they do not understand, in hopes of “Healing and Saving”, but they’re not saving anyone by shunning and burning them! If I were to say this all out, you know what they would do?” Daisy asked, tears streaming out of her eyes. There was so much more she wanted to say and not enough time to say it.

“They’ll burn me for witchcraft. They’ll think me a witch, all because I said things that they didn’t like.” Daisy whispered. To say out loud frightened her, as though the very words themselves would bring the mob of judging, scorned faces eager to burn away a soul.

“Oh, Daisy. My sweet, sweet Daisy.” Salem said. He rested a cold, clawed hand on her cheek. With him, she felt like she was loved.

“You have me. I will always be here. You came to this world for a reason. To fly. You are a fairy, you will always rise.”

His words were words to keep stored in her heart, poetic words, but not the truth. The truth was straight, monochromatic lines and stone, never flowers and dew-drops.

Still, she placed her hand on Salem’s, the one that was on her cheek, and smiled at him.

It was good to be loved.

…………………………………………………

Salem had left a long time ago to go home, which meant that Daisy had to leave. The moon was still out, which was nice. She didn’t like coming home in the daylight, the sunlight blinded her eyes. Besides, morning was far too early to come home. She had to work in the starlit sky, when ravens and crows were more likely to fly.

But another set of footsteps was heard right behind Daisy. She stopped and turned around, fear prickling in her skin like a million spiders.

“Demelza?” Daisy asked.

It was her sister, her young, married sister, whom she could only think of as Cherrybrook and not Babbington. Demelza was in a muted brown cloak, but she liked violet hues. She married and became just like them, heartless and mindless. Demelza regarded Daisy with steely blue eyes that were not her own, that were formed by years of being silenced and made to follow.

“I knew that that there was something wrong, but giving affection to a monster? Daisy, I would have thought better of you.” Demelza said, shaking her head.

Why did she speak to Daisy like she didn’t know what she was doing?

“You followed me out here!” Daisy shrieked. How could she follow her out into the woods, as though she were a lost pet? Daisy always came home, why did Demelza care so much?

“Only to save you and by God, do you need saving.” Demelza said. There was a shake to her voice, an edge of madness. But no, her sister could never go mad, that was impossible!

“How do you mean?” Daisy asked, backing away. No, Demelza was her sister, she would never lay a hand on her. They shared secrets when they were young, held hands in the dark. Somewhere, deep down, there was still compassion in Demelza.

But no, Demelza stormed up to Daisy and gripped her arm roughly, nails digging into her skin.

“You’re a witch, dear sister.” Demelza said through gritted teeth.

…………………………………………………

When they had arrived, Daisy shrieking and trying to escape, Demelza holding tight and screaming the story of how she saw Daisy and Salem, the people formed, demanding that Daisy be burned for her evil.

“Stop, good people of Cherry Brook! I’m not a witch, I only ever loved! Please, I beg of you, don’t do this!” Daisy cried.

But did they listen? No, why would they listen to such absurdities? They were all sane and moral, they didn’t listen to spun-up stories of fantasies, especially when they were from a high-strung girl.

Only Justin watched with tears, Mother shushing him and telling him that “Sometimes the Devil is someone you love.”

They dragged the kicking, screaming girl away, to a wooden stake, to face what was deserved.

Demelza tied Daisy to the stake, torches were lit, the fire was set. She didn’t need to be asked of her innocence, they always knew that she was evil.

“I warned you…” Daisy said through a cracked throat, fire dancing in her eyes.

From the sparks, she watched Salem slink into the town, the screams in harmony with the flickering flames, bringing justice to Daisy finally. He squeezed them, he poisoned them, he left trails of blood.

She rose from the flames, completely pale, gray wings with moonlight specks on her back, free finally.

…………………………………………………

Only Justin, the children, and the animals were spared. Never did they utter a word of the night Daisy’s former self died.

Cherry Brook was founded on death, love, monsters, and family.

Still, those ideas stay for the town of Cherry Brook. Still, Salem and Daisy lurk somewhere far in the woods, where they intend to be until the end of time.

Tale Twenty-Seven-Off to the circus!

Haven held the hand of Mom as they walked into “Circe’s Cherry Circus!”, anticipating clowns and cotton candy. Conductor clown Clover waved at him, like always, and he waved back. She never talked, but her presence was…comforting.

Many other clowns and circus performers greeted them with soft grins and sweet treats. The calliope music was filled with the cheer of a child.

In the center of the circus there stood Mrs. Angelese Circe, the ringleader behind it all, the one who welcomed them with open arms.

She was asking if everyone was having fun, if they liked the circus. Of course, everyone nodded and said yes. Who wouldn’t be happy?

When Haven and Mom got to Mrs. Circe, she grinned at them both and bent down to Haven’s level, asking broadly:

“How do you like the circus?”

“I love it! It’s wonderful!” Haven said in earnest. He could not be happier, for being in the circus felt like a great, never ending celebration!

Mrs. Circe chuckled and clapped a hand on Haven’s shoulder.

“I’d thought you’d like it!” Mrs. Circe said.

She didn’t let go of Haven’s shoulder. Instead, she stood up and placed a hand on his back, leading him away.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Mom asked, narrowing her eyes. She tried to push Mrs. Circe’s arm away, but she held on tight to Haven.

Mrs. Circe wouldn’t take me away, she’s a nice lady. Haven thought.

Then why wasn’t she letting him go?

“Calm down, Mommy dearest. Kiddo’s gonna have a swell time!” Mrs. Circe beamed.

With that, Mrs. Circe and Haven both disappeared into confetti pink smoke. Not a single person noticed a thing, because the peculiar always happened in a circus, right?

……………………………………………………

Haven and Mrs. Circe were in a white and blue striped tent, closed off from the rest of the crowd.

“Normally, I’d eat your bones.” Mrs. Circe said.

Haven’s eyes went wide, he backed away a bit. Mrs. Circe ate bones?

“But you’re a special kid. You always liked this place and never once had a temper tantrum. We could use someone like you. Someone with your positivity.”

Haven couldn’t move, he was stuck in place.

Mrs. Circe closed her eyes and sang:

“The boy’s got a grin no one can match

He’s got the heart to stitch the patch

Sweet like candy, valued like a necklace

From here on, the little boy is Candy Necklace”

Haven screamed as he grew to a height of six feet, far too tall for a six year old. His hands twisted and turned into pale claws, his black curls became blue.

Finally, it stopped. The bone-stretching, skin discoloring transformation had stopped.

“You’re a clown now, Candy Necklace, and a damn good one.” Mrs. Circe said with a glowing beam.

Haven didn’t wait a second longer. He ran right out of the circus tent, right to the outside.

……………………………………………………

He could see Mom in the crowd, with his new height, searching for him. He ran right towards her, grateful that his long legs made him faster.

“Mom! Mom!” He yelled when he grabbed her. Mom tried to break away, but he held tight.

“Mom, it’s me! Mrs. Circe turned me into a monster! Please, you have to believe me! It’s me!” Haven sobbed. His voice was all high-pitched and wrong. What had Mrs. Circe done to him? Would Mom even recognize him?

“I believe you, sweetie. I saw you both disappear into pink smoke. I tried to find you, but…well, you’re here now.” Mom said.

Haven couldn’t stop hyperventilating, why on Earth was he a freak? Mrs. Circe wanted to eat his bones, but instead, she made him a…horrible creature. She was storming through the crowds, searching for him, perhaps.

“Calm down. You don’t want anyone to stare at you. We’re going to get out of here. Take my hand. We’re going home.” Mom said.

Haven took a deep breath and swallowed his tears. Everything was okay. Mom believed him, they were going to go home.

“You’re not going anywhere! That’s my performer! He stays here!” Mrs. Circe boomed.

Mom’s hand went limp in Haven’s. Right before his very eyes, she was shriveling away, shrinking into herself.

“Run…” Mom gasped through a dark, dying mouth before crumpling to the ground as a pile of skin and clothes.

Haven stood still, staring at her body. Mom was going to take him home, they were going to be safe. Why…why was nobody helping them?

“I’ll wait for you at the tent, Candy Necklace.” Mrs. Circe said before walking away.

Tears welled in Haven’s eyes. Mom was dead. She was never going to hug him or kiss him goodnight, never comfort him when he had a nightmare, never protect him from the bad people in the world.

Mom was dead and nobody helped her.

*This tale connects to the first and second part of this series.*

Tale Twenty-Eight-Do you still want to save her?

Once upon a time, in the town of Cherry Brook, there lived a legend of Princess Timandra and Lazarus the cursed. What kind of curse? The curse of being fifteen feet tall, that was what. He was handsome and oh so sweet, but an awful shame it was to have gone off to the witch’s house at the tender age of seven! If only he had listened, had heeded the words of his dear parents, perhaps Lazarus would have stayed “normal” in the public eye.

But no, he had whisked away into darkness and had taken youthful, genuine, Princess Timandra away with him!

It was up to the Knight that was said to be honest and fair, Knight Garnet, to save her from such tragedy and madness!

But there comes misfortune with venturing to things mislead. As Garnet slashed and slayed many creatures of the dark and forsaken, without a single regard for the life shriveling beneath his feet, he began to think that it would be easy, that being a Princess, Timandra would want to be “saved.”

Finally, through long nights and short days, Garnet had made to the lost castle that seemed to echo every moment, where Timandra and Lazarus were hidden.

“Have you come to take me away?” Timandra asked. Strangely enough, Garnet did not see her, but he heard her.

“Yes! I’ve come to take you home! Come out of the shadows, oh beautiful one!” Garnet sing-sang to her.

“You think me beautiful?” Timandra asked. Her voice had a guttural rasp to it, as though blood had clogged her very throat.

“Of course! I have seen you with my own eyes. Not much can change, it’s only been a few years.” Garnet said.

Timandra laughed, long and loud, high-pitched, reverberating throughout the dying, cobwebbed walls. There was such an Unholy note to it, a feeling of dread and death in it, so unlike a Princess, that Garnet took three steps back.

What was up with her?

“They have lied to you! I have crossed into another plane of existence! I have left this very world behind! Lazarus took me away and he will take you too. He will take you to the light!” Timandra screeched.

“Whatever do you mean, lovely one?” Garnet asked. He tried to keep his composure, for he had seen many awful things in his life, but never did he hear someone talk such absurdities!

From the far corner of the castle, Timandra’s shadow stepped out. That was all Garnet could see. Her shadow. No features, no colors. Nothing but an emotionless, apathetic shadow.

“I’m saying that I’M DEAD! YOU CANNOT SAVE ME, BECAUSE I AM DEAD! LAZARUS KILLED ME! LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT WHAT HE DID.”

There was no shadow anymore, but Timandra herself. Garnet cringed and cowered, for right before him was not a Princess, but a damaged fairy, sharp glass shards hanging off her back like wings, white gown rumpled and stained with blood, face contorted and slashed with pieces of glass. When Timandra smiled, a few were teeth were missing. The teeth that were left were rotten, covered in dirt and flesh.

“You best be on your way lest you want to end up like me.” Timandra warned.

She turned back into a featureless shadow, wounds of the truth hidden again.

Garnet turned to run, but a pale hand had curled around his feeble body, armor crushing skin, eyes falling out, reaching desperately for the blue sky beyond.

Stay careful in the woods for a horrid death awaits in any bend. 

*This connects to stories in the second part of this series.*

Tale Twenty-Nine-The sleepover

Texas smiled as she watched her parents drive away, leaving her alone in the house. Many would say that she was “too young” to be home alone, but her parents said that they would only be gone for a “few hours” and that they needed “time to themselves”.

They said that they called her friends’ parents to tell them what was happening and that her friends were going to see Texas, so she wouldn’t be entirely alone.

Just a few seconds after they had left, Texas heard a knock on the door.

She rushed eagerly to the door and opened it, grinning when she saw that it was her friends waiting for her, with their dolls in tow.

They were going to have so much fun!

………………………………………………………

Two hours had passed since their arrival. Texas and her friends, Autumn with her bride doll, Moriah with her pigtailed doll, Lisha with her blanket-holding doll, and Lycia with her hat wearing doll, were all on Texas’ white, narrow bed, pretending that the bed was a ship caught in a storm and they the seafaring crew.

“I see land!” Texas shouted, pointing to the wooden rocking chair in the corner that was “land” in their game. She held tight to her sweater-wearing doll, her very own companion.

“Let’s row to it!” Autumn said.

The five of them began to “row” towards “land”, but then, something strange started to happen.

The bed began to shake.

They tried to climb out of it, but it kept shaking rapidly, sinking to the ground with its very own weight, rocks plummeting on their small bodies.

Texas held tight to her doll and squeezed her eyes shut, trying very, very hard to block out the screams of her friends.

The screams had stopped. Only silence remained hanging in the heavy, still air.

*This connects to a story in the second part of this series.*

Tale Thirty-Rubberneckers

Whenever her family passed a car accident, twelve year old Thora was told to look at her phone and not the accident. Dad called people that stayed to look “rubberneckers”.

But Thora had never seen the details of a car crash before. She imagined that the people who died must have been absolutely gorged and the car a mechanic mess.

That was what she imagined. Thora didn’t know.

One bright afternoon, Thora looked up from her phone and stared at the wreckage outside her window.

Her mouth hung open. A woman and a little boy, perhaps her son, were strung on the ground, a car door smashing them both. The car itself was a pile of metal smoking with exhaust. Police cars surrounded the area, sirens blaring off in a frenzy.

It was such a demented sight, yet Thora couldn’t look down. It was so intriguing, the sight of death. So different, so tempting. A horror movie in real life, for all to see.

……………………………………………………

It was night in the town of Cherry Brook. Thora and her parents had arrived home long before and were in bed, except that Thora was wide awake, thinking of the car accident and how her parents didn’t notice her staring at all.

She had seen it for her very own eyes! Something that happened every day anywhere, not just on TV! If that was what a car crash looked like, then what did murder look like? Cancer? Insanity? Overdosing? Some other malignant illness? The possibilities were endless! Thora didn’t need video games or television shows, she could just go outside and see tragedy for her very own eyes!

Thora squinted at something on the ceiling. Her lights were turned off, so there couldn’t possibly be anything she could see.

But right in the middle of the ceiling was a pulsing burgundy glow, beating much like a heart.

“I am The Sprite of doom and gloom, you’ve looked death in the eye and now it is death you shall consume.” The glow said.

Thora shut her eyes, for the glow was nothing but a hallucination from lack of sleep.

……………………………………………………

The next morning, Thora woke up to the smell of fried eggs. Her usual breakfast, but she didn’t feel hungry.

No matter. She’d feel hungry when she was right in front of her breakfast.

……………………………………………………

After getting herself ready in the morning, Thora sat in front of the plate of eggs laid for her. Usually Dad made the eggs, but he wasn’t around. Mom made them. They still looked appealing enough, but she just wasn’t feeling it.

“I think that I’ll skip.” Thora said, pushing the plate of eggs away.

“What?” Mom asked, surprised.

Thora got up from the chair and went up to the door, where her shoes and backpack were waiting.

……………………………………………………

Thora walked to school, thinking of the peculiar morning she woke up to. Dad wasn’t around and Thora wasn’t hungry. What was going on?

On the street was a screaming ambulance, rolling a little girl in a stretcher to the inside. Her purple and pink bike decorated with stickers was lying askew, a car with trails of gray, ashy smoke rolling into the sky in front of the bicycle.

Thora stopped walking. An inner urge compelled her to take out her phone with its marshmallow-themed phone case out of her jacket pocket and snap a picture.

No one noticed.

……………………………………………………

Lunch period had arrived at the Cherry Brook middle school after a while. Thora didn’t feel like reaching into her backpack for her lunchbox, it just didn’t feel right.

Instead, she took out her phone and stared at the picture she took earlier in the morning. The little girl had a bleeding leg, her eyes were tired and frightened, on the edge of giving up life.

Thora took in every detail of pain, every point of sadness, all of it. She stared at it as though she were studying for a test that would change her life. Inside, she felt more alive, more full.

Thora sat alone at lunch. No one thought to talk to her.

……………………………………………………

The day had ended for her. She stormed back home, a million thoughts racing in her head.

Why did I take the picture? How come I haven’t deleted it? Where is Dad? Why didn’t any other kid talk to me?

Thora finally made it back home after a while and swung open the side door, small beads of confusion crawling within her chest.

“Mom?! Can I talk to you?!” Thora asked. She needed some kind of help, any kind of help.

Mom walked into the kitchen, the place the side door led to, pink robe gliding gently like a ballgown.

“Of course, honey.” Mom said softly.

With a shaking hand, Thora reached into her jacket pocket.

“T-T-This morning I t-t-t-took a p-p-p-picture of t-t-t-this.” Thora stuttered. Mom would be so mad, she’d send her off to her room and never let her out.

Nonetheless, Thora had to show her.

She pulled up the picture of the little girl and showed Mom. Mom frowned, but made no comment.

“I looked at the picture in Lunch and felt like I ate food! Also, no one besides the teachers talked to me!” Thora said.

“What’s happening? Where is Dad?” Thora asked. The house felt empty without Dad, like a body with no bones.

Mom sighed haggardly, eyes rimmed with red.

“Did you look at the car accident yesterday?” Mom asked.

Thora nodded. She couldn’t bear to say it, but she was in no position to lie, either.

“You’re not supposed to do that, sweetie. Now you’re a demon. Not just any demon, a rubbernecker. Rubberneckers thrive off of tragedy and must eat all the feelings that come from a tragic event. This can be done by hanging around a car accident, listening to murder podcasts, or doing what you did, which is taking pictures of said event.”

Thora thought of all the people online who liked listening to murder podcasts, who made videos of others dying, who laughed about civilians in peril of a nation attack. She used to think that they were just “having fun” and “using dark humor”, but they were actually…demons?

“When they eat, they leave behind more misfortune. Kids can sense that someone is a rubbernecker better than adults, that’s why you were avoided.”

“But where’s Dad?!” Thora asked, feeling a terrible conclusion prepared to settle in.

“When we were both sixteen and only dating, your Dad stuck around to watch a fire at a family’s house. Everyone in the house perished. The three kids, the parents, and the pets. All dead. Yet he and his friends made jokes about it.”

“He found out the next day, like you, after he stayed to watch a kid being pulled away in a stretcher from a fight. The kid died. Your Dad chose not to watch any more tragic events after that, it hurt his heart.”

“Where is he now?!”

“He’s at the hospital. The lack of food was eventually going to kill him one day and it’s killing him now. You can’t come, because you’ll just curse others. Rubberneckers aren’t allowed in funerals or hospitals. I can’t come because my health is already complicated with marrying your Dad.” Mom said. Her eyes held tears that wouldn’t come out, her face was creased with lines of worry, making her look older than she was.

“What about your health? What’s wrong?” Thora asked. She never stopped to think that maybe Mom wasn’t just a “tired person”. What if it was something more?

“I-I can’t talk about this anymore. You’re feeding off of it!” Mom shrieked.

She ran upstairs, far away from Thora, who stood still, stunned. She wasn’t trying to feed off of it, she was just listening.

But then, she felt satiated, as though she had eaten a Thanksgiving feast.

Thora could never be the friend’s shoulder to cry on, never be the truly caring daughter, never be around tragedy again.

Thora herself was a curse. 

Tale Thirty-One-Your parents

Your parents are a man and a woman

Stitched together at the hip

Daddy’s got a chainsaw and Mommy’s got a firm grip

They want to pull you down into the ether

Make you theirs forever

So take care to run from your parents

Please, stay clever