Little Island Tales - Part 10

    "Hey there, kid." Johanas said with that same, massive smile he always had.
    His cigarette bobbed up and down precariously as though it might stumble from his lips at any moment. The man's almost surreal grin was so wide that it looked like it might split his head in half at any moment and the words came with puffs of pungent, stinky smoke.
    Diego politely tried to ignore the smell.
    "Uh...Hi, Joe." Diego responded uncertainly.
    "You know," the older man began, resting heavily on his cane, a distinct look of mischief in his eyes, "I was thinking about what your mother said and figured she's right."
    "About what?"
    "About the fact I should take someone with me to go investigate those tracks you found."
    Diego found himself staring blankly at him. To start, he was already baffled about why the man was here in the first place and now this? What did any of this have to do with him?
    "I think that's a pretty good idea," Johanas continued. "Don't you?"
    "I...guess?"
    "So. Wanna come check them out with me?"
    Realization dawned on him and excitement began to build in Diego's chest, but something inside told him to stay his hand.
    "Yea!" he said with more joy than he meant to let out. Quickly doubling back, he asked, "But I don't think that's what mom meant. I think she meant someone older and more experienced."
    "Naaaah!" Johanas said with a long exhalation of smoke. "She didn't say who I should take with. Just that she wanted someone. And who better than a strapping young lad like yourself?"
    To punctuate the point, the older man laughed and patted Diego on the shoulder.
    He felt his compunctions drain away and a smile grew across his face that could easily rival the ever-present grin that Johanas wore. The excitement that had been welling up in his chest burst and he could stop himself from practically jumping up and down.
    "Ok!" he nearly shouted. "Let's go!"
    Diego nearly bowled the older man over as he shot past him and into the sand beyond. Johanas chuckled hard and, slowly and carefully, hobbled about-face to follow after the overeager boy.

    "What do you think?"
    "I think it looks like the trail is starting to get a little cold." Johanas responded to Diego's inquiry.
    He wasn't wrong either. At this point, any tracks that had existed on the lower beach were completely gone; washed away with the tide and the rolling waves. The ones that still existed in the rich, white sands of the upper beach were also starting to fade as the gentle noon-time breeze whittled them away to little more than divots among the dunes.
    "They were heading to the mountain!" Diego declared excitedly as he ran alongside the faded tracks, his eyes locked on the large, singular peak that dominated the island's horizon. "I got a good look at em earlier! Remember?"
    "I remember." Johanas said with a laugh.
    "Then come on! Let's go!"
    The older man nodded in agreement and followed after him. He moved even slower in the beach sand, the cripple's cane having trouble finding any real purchase and making it difficult to move in a straight line, but Diego was willing to slow down. Luckily, despite Johanas' pain, his smile never faltered and he didn't seem to get tired.
    Walking past the village, they soon found themselves rounding the bend to the little box canyon where their home was hidden from the elements. Sand soon changed to dirt and dirt gave way to a host of palm and coconut trees that sprouted here and there. After an hour's combined walking and hobbling, their trail had reappeared in the wet mud and the landscape had begun to incline.
    "Now those are pretty interesting." Johanas commented as he stared at the first, intact boot print they'd found on their walk.
    Diego had to agree.
    Unlike before on the beach where the track was either in soft sand or where the ocean had begun to wash away the details, Diego could plainly see every intricate detail of the boot mark. The mark was surprisingly large, easily rivaling most of the biggest warriors in the village, but that wasn't the odd part. The mark was filled with ridges cutting deep cuts into the wet dirt, running the length of the print, forming strange shapes and patterns. While he'd seen a hint of them earlier, here they were plain as day.
    "What are those?" Diego asked, indicating the deep ridges.
    "Don't know." Johanas replied with a shrug as he fished a fresh cigarette from his pocket and let it with one of the tinder-sticks the man always carried. "Some sort of fancy cobbling, I guess."
    "Why?"
    Again, a shrug.
    They were both resting on the remains of a fallen tree, staring at the thing. The tracks continued on deeper through up the mountain and into the thick groves and woods. Into the greenery and the darkness.
    "I'll tell you what, though..." Johanas began. "Whoever made these probably didn't run into any demons."
    Diego spare a quizzical look as if to ask "Why?", his mind drifting back to the massive aka-akua tracks he'd seen around the first set of prints.
    "He's moving too slow." the older man continued. "He wasn't running. The tracks aren't cutting deep or nothing like that. Just smooth and steady."
    "So he didn't come through at night?"
    Johanas, yet again spared a shrug.
    "Guess so. On top of that, there aren't any tracks following after it. See? All smooth except for our mystery man. And it's not like a demon moves quiet like."
    Diego, his attention now drawn to it, regarded the near perfect mud with new understanding. He'd seen the beach enough to know the aka-akua tore up everything they touched. Unless they could fly, there was no way they wouldn't notice that it had been there.
    Hell, if one had followed the boot tracks, there probably wouldn't be much to follow to begin with.
    And so, they sat a while longer in silence.
    The edges of the forest were beginning to heat up with the midday sun, the air thickening as it always did near the trees; a wet, heavy feeling that clung to your skin and made you thirsty despite your clothes being soaked. As excited as Diego was to find something new, he was starting to get a little tired from the walk and had just opened his mouth to ask when they might go back when they heard it.
    PoppopopopPOP!
    Diego jumped up in surprise and Johanas glanced around in confusion.
    "What was-"
    Popopopopopopopopop!
    The sound came from higher on the mountain, deeper into the forest, and reverberated off every rock and tree trunk.
    Diego spared a glance at Johanas who was pulling himself to his feet, his confusion drying up some of the man's permanent grin.
    "What was that?" Diego tried to ask again.
    "That?" Johanas said, regaining his smiling once again splitting his face. "That was a clue."

 ===

(Back by popular demand, we return to the world of Little Island Tales! I'm actually amazed by the number of requests I got both randomly in the comments sections and DM's/Emails. With that said, while there may be an interjection of a short story here or there, I intend to continue Little Island Tales for a while. So strap in and, as always, I hope you enjoy. See you again soon, Lovelies.)

All the Lonely People - Part 2

[Just getting started? Check out Part 1 first by clicking here!]

    The door turned to splinters under the force of the Hunter's boot. The termite riddled, rotten wood blew forward to reveal the oddity inside, exploding with more force than he had meant. The remains of the door ripped from its hinges and slid across the floor.
    Despite the decrepit exterior, the inside of the church had been decorated.
    White streamers lined the walls of the abandoned building. Great baskets of flowers ran the length of long forgotten pews and a single red carpet had been rolled out along the aisle. Rice was scattered about the ground, leading up to the altar. At the far end, a double set of candles burned dimly in the dusty darkness.
    Their lights highlighted it.
    It was disguised as the same young woman he'd seen so many times looking through her windows. She was dressed in a long, flowing white wedding dress and had her back to him. In any other instance, he might have approached her; maybe attempted to help her or even check why this seemingly innocent young lady was standing in the middle of this hall of horrors.
    He knew better.
    Pulling the hammer back on the revolver in his hand, a satisfying click echoed the derelict church.
    The slight twitch of her head told him it had heard.
    She turned around to face him, a soft smile playing along her lips. She had been beautiful before it had gotten to her. Blue eyes, rosy cheeks, blonde hair, and a slender figure. Now, staring at that same visage, he knew it was just a facade.
    "Hello, Father." it said with a growling voice that surprised him.
    There was no pretense here. Despite wearing its victim's face, it knew that he wasn't going to be fooled.
    "Hello, Demon." he responded in turn.
    "Demon? Now is that anyway to talk to a lady?" it asked with a smile far too big and viscous for girl's dainty mouth. "Especially on her wedding day."
    The Hunter glanced around briefly at the macabre display. His thoughts drifting to the poor young man who would begin desperately searching for his lost love; if he hadn't already.
    "You haven't killed him yet." he said.
    "No." it confirmed. "But it won't be long. I want to let it set in first."
    "Set in?"
    "The loneliness." it said with a smile that now cracked the edges of her mouth, splitting it into a hideous clown-esque appearance. "I can't help but enjoy all of those lonely people."
    "You're a monster."
    "AND YOU'RE A FOOL!" it snapped with sudden force.
    He brought the revolver up to bare; focused dead on the creature before him.
    "After all," it continued, bleeding back into its softer tone, "This wedding is for us."
    The creature extended his hand and he felt himself tighten. Felt his strength drain away as he was lifted from the ground as if by an invisible force. It wrapped around his body, held him still, and dragged him forward towards the altar not a foot from the creature.
    "Tsk tsk. And what groom forgets to wear a suit?" it said with hideous intent.
    This close to the creature, he could smell its rank breath. The scent was heavy with rot and decay and he could plainly see every needle point little tooth in her mouth.
    With tender, gentle hands, it reached up to start unbuttoning his collar.
    "I should tell you," it began. "I'm often quite accommodating."
    The next few buttons.
    "I often kill them quick."
    A few more.
    "Clean."
    The coat came off.
    "It's no fun to let them die screaming. It ruins the flavor of the meat."
    It reached for his shirt.
    "I don't think I'll afford you the same luxury." it said with a hiss.
    Peeling away the first button of his shirt revealed the silver cross he wore around his neck. The result was an instantaneous roar as the creature dove backward. It was a defiant, sickened noise that matched the hideous sight as the creature bent backwards in a fashion that would have broken a human's spine and leaped against the nearest wall.
    But his hands were free.
    The gun came to bare a second time and he had emptied the revolver into its chest even before he could feel his fingers again.
    With a heavy thud, the creature hit the ground.
    It did not get back up.
 
    As he went about burying the creature in the graveyard behind the church. The Hunter considered removing its damaged visage, but decided against it. While the face it had stolen was cracked and broken, he had no interest in seeing what it really looked like now. Plus, he didn't think the dead cared much one way or another if her face was buried with it.
    He gave it its last rights all the same.
    With a sigh, he wiped the dirt from his hands as he walked from the grave. With the exception of the fresh mound, Father McKenzie had left nothing to signify that the graveyard had a new, unaccounted corpse.
    He would call in the death in the morning to the local police department. An anonymous tip, like always. There was no point in letting the poor boy, or the police, continue their search. Eleanor Rigby was dead and she had been for weeks; she just finally had a grave to go with it.
   

All the Lonely People - Part 1

    With a grunt, the Hunter drew out the heavy leather satchel from the trunk of his car.
    Like him, the satchel was old, worn, and dirty but stronger for it. Built for another purpose, but molded to its new life with surprising capability. It was filled with hard things, pointy things, and enough destructive power to rain death with the force of a hurricane. Still, hope existed within its folds.
    Setting aside the stained bible that rested atop his instruments of death, the Hunter drew out a long and slender knife. It found its sheathe with a ring of the blade.
    Soon, another.
    And another.
    Knives, blades, flechettes, guns, ammo, explosives, trinkets of all shapes and size, and even a good old silver cross. Each one found its pocket, its holster, or its home. Each one was snug and secure, able to withstand a beating should the need arise, but ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.
    Many of his kind found the weight of the weapons cumbersome and restrictive. He didn't agree. If anything, if made him feel more centered then any other time. He felt bald and exposed otherwise. Cold.
    The satchel was back into his trunk. A moment later, a newspaper clipping fell to the street below. He quickly gathered it up and tucked it into his pocket before closing up.
    He didn't need to read what was in the clipping. The Hunter could probably recite the first lines from memory.

BRUTAL MURDERS CONTINUE!

After months of searching, police still have no leads for the terrible

serial killer that has terrorized Maple Brook county since early October.

While police assure residents that they are hot on the trail, one off duty

officer revealed that they have yet to find anything substantial. The victims,

three separate young women,all engaged, were each found with their faces 

removed  with surgical precision. While leaving the muscle and bone beneath...

    Staring up from his parking space on the abandoned road, the old church before him appeared empty. He knew better.

    Its windows were cracked and broken in many places. Several shutters hung loosely. Some local jokers had spray painted a number of foul words across one side. Chunks of wood had split here or there, giving him the impression that the building could collapse at any moment. Not far behind, the old graveyard sat as dead still as the corpses it housed.

    The Hunter's boots made loud thunks as he walked up the rotting steps. He didn't care. It knew he was coming anyway.

    He'd watched the thing for the last several weeks. It wasn't until the day before that he realized it had been watching him back.

    Disguised as a young girl in her early twenties, the Hunter had started watching her under the presumption that she was the thing's next target. While he didn't introduce himself, he also didn't make a point to hide either. Every now and again he'd see her sitting at the large bay windows of her apartment, watching the world go by. Or, as he discovered, watching him.

    It wasn't until the girl hadn't come home that he decided to look a bit closer.

    Breaking in was easy enough. Her apartment didn't even have a deadbolt.

    At first glance, it hadn't been anything out of the ordinary. He found everything he would have expected to. The kitchen was stocked but not overly. There was some dirty laundry but there was a basket of clean ones needed to be folded. Glasses on the night stand, TV in the bedroom...nothing strange. 

    It wasn't until he was on his way out that he noticed the small bookcase in the landing.

    There was no seam between the bookcase and the wall.

    The Hunter gingerly touched it and tried to move the bookcase forward slightly. No give. He tried harder, not overly worried if he knocked the whole thing over. Still, it didn't move. Now, glancing inside, he could see the notch in the back that indicated the false backing.

    Tearing away the books, the backing was removed easily. Behind it lay three jars.

    Even with years of monsters and mayhem under his belt, it was hard not to grimace at what was inside.

    Each jar was mostly empty. A clear fluid filled them but the Hunter was confident that it probably wasn't water. Floating inside the jar was a skinned human face. They would bunch up and stretch out as if flowing with some unseen current, but every now again they'd take shape.

    And that shape would be a silent, soundless scream of pain and horror.

    He'd kept the jars. 

    With them hidden in his trunk near the satchel, he pushed the thought of the tortured souls in order to steel himself for the monster to come.

    Drawing an old revolver, he lifted his foot and caved in the front door. What he found inside was far from expectation...

[Read more in Part 2! Coming Soon.]

Writing Inspiration - 09.22.15

"A demon has suddenly begun to

follow you around town...Why?"