The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
by Lydia Prime
“As the moon rose high over the world, creatures scattered to find shadows for shelter. This was the night, and everything in existence could feel what was coming. The night ‘The Veil’ would be raised between the living, and the dead.” Phil said while sprinkling some sparkly dust over the fire. The other four children sat around in a half circle, hanging on his every word. “Tradition dictates that we must go into the cemetery and sit until morning lest we be known as cowards!” He enforced. “Now comes the time to end the ‘Trick-or Treating’ and start figuring out what’s real, and what’s make-believe!”
“Dude, you’re ridiculous.” Ethan said while lifting his Frankenstein mask.
“Shut up man! Are we men, or are we meese?!” Shouted Phil.
“Meese!” Came a chime from the quartet surrounding him.
“Fine! I’ll do it alone then, and I’ll tell everyone you guys punked out.” Phil retorted with his nose high in the air – not that it could get much higher with that plague doctor mask on. He spun on his heel and took off towards the cemetery.
“Aw c’mon bro, you know we’re kidding.” Liam called to him, but he’d already covered too much ground to hear him. The four boys shrugged and let him go off on his own, figuring he would probably chicken out and come find them eventually.
“More candy for us!” Alex yelled, and three of the boys took off on their bikes in the opposite direction.
Phil was panting by the time he reached the cemetery, forget them. He thought, if I’m the only one man enough to do this, then so be it. He leaned his bike against the gate and began his trek into the place of rest. Once he reached a particularly deceased looking tree, he sat and waited. For years he’d heard the older boys talk of the ghosts and ghouls that crept out of the crypt on Halloween Night, finally it was his turn to find out the truth for himself. He’d always had a sort of strange fascination with the dead, undead, sorta-almost-kind-of-dead. Anything dark and creepy to be honest – he truly believed all he’d heard.
A rustling came from the far left of the cemetery. “W-w-who’s there?” He stuttered. The silence was deafening. There were no giggling trick or treaters, no crickets singing their sad song, and no rustling. “Alex? Alex is that you? I bet it is, you jerk! I’m not scared.” At that moment something began to come into focus from the direction of the initial rustling. “Say something, you asshole!” The figure moved with such grace he was beginning to get nervous. He looked around and grabbed a rock, just in case he needed to fight whatever was coming towards him.
The fourth child from the fire appeared before him. Dressed as a ghost, he was covered in a plain white bed sheet with eye holes cut through. Phil gulped and got a tighter grip on his trusty rock. “Who are you?” He asked, and still no noise was to be heard. He looked the ghost up and down and noticed its feet, or well, lack thereof. “W-w-what are you?” He managed to get out, now shaking.
“I’m who you’ve been waiting for, no?” It replied succinctly.
“I-I-I- uhh..” Phil trailed off, unsure of how he should respond.
“RISE!” It called and soon the ground began to rumble. Phil tried to stand, but found his legs had betrayed him and turned to jelly. He looked around and saw hands as far as the eye could see reaching from beneath the earth towards the dark sky. The moon illuminated Phil’s fear-struck face. “Hahahaha, mortals.” It chortled. “Were you not ready for this? Are you a man, or are you a ‘meese’?”
“P-p-please.. d-d-don’t..” Phil tried to stutter out a beg for safety.
“Watch.” It told him and turned towards its armada of undead. “Enjoy your night my ghouls!” He called to them, and off they went. Some ran, some walked, others seemed to simply disappear. “It is our night. The veil has lifted, as you yourself said earlier!”
Phil began to feel his legs again, I have to know, he thought. He reached up and grabbed the sheet from the creature before him. He bit his lip, realizing he’d made a mistake.
“Some things, should never be seen, Phillip.” It said before it dug into his neck with its razor-sharp teeth that seemed too big for its mouth. Phil’s blood trickled down the monster’s cheeks and onto the ground before the dead tree. “You were fun, meese.” It smiled, and climbed into the tree to wait for the next.
Fiction © Copyright Lydia Prime
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
More about Lydia Prime:
Lydia grew up in a small, ‘Mayberry,’ sort of town, in New Jersey. She thoroughly enjoys gummy bears and laughing through the darkest depths of life. More often than not, she writes about demons and monsters, however, being a recovering addict tends to turn inner demons into fearsome foes to be fought beyond the constraints of the mind. ‘Sometimes,’ she states, ‘what’s inside, is scarier than anything reality throws at you.’
Please visit Lydia on Facebook for more info.