Shorts

Despite the gusting wind and drumming rain I felt secure and warm tucked up in my attic bedroom. Then a face appeared at the storm-lashed skylight.

For years he complained about his wife’s cooking, especially her pies, claiming he would make better. He was right: the guests at his wake ate every last one.

We crawled for what must have been miles through mud, thorn-laden bush, beds of razor-sharp rock and freezing streams but still the bastards caught us. Then came the torture and the screaming.

We used to camp out by a deep bend in the river in our teens. The day we found an arm sticking out of the mud the world changed forever: its fingers were still moving.

They all thought hide-and-seek was a great game until the day they didn’t find little Davy. Lucy found him 4 months later and screamed for days.

The glowing embers of the fire led the pack straight to the feast. Once they tore through the fibrous outer wrapper the flesh, blood and marrow within were delicious.

“That’s correct, sir. I sold bananas for a living.” He bowed his head as he spoke. “And were you always fair to your customers?” The patriarchal gatekeeper adjusted his headset, moving the microphone closer to his mouth. The man shuffled his feet and glanced sideways but did not respond. “I’m afraid you’ll have to answer all my questions before I can allow you to proceed.” “Well,” he began, “I.” “Well, you?” ...

My flat-mates and I had watched a couple of zombie movies that night so the wet, tearing sounds coming from behind the ajar door really freaked me out. What I saw when I nervously pushed the door open was much worse than what I heard.

A shadow swooped down across the night’s backdrop of many stars, stopped before him, resolved into something reptilian with ragged wings and scythe-like claws that slashed at his heart. They found him in the morning, lifeless and soulless but unmarked, claimed by death’s night-time embrace.

It was at a party that she told me how she’d played Bloody Mary hundreds of times. Though she had never seen any face in the mirror but her own.