Night Fog

The creeping mists of the fog approached the train platform where he stood beside the circle of light flooding down from the lamppost, its grey metal pole reaching up into the night air.

Looking both directions away from the station he could see the empty train tracks stretch out into the darkness of the eerie, dense night fog.

Even though the winter night should have been cold and dry, the air around him was unusually warm and full of moisture, making him uncomfortably sweaty in his heavy parka.

The train was late, it had been a long day, and he was tired so the darkness and fog seemed to be playing tricks on his mind; they felt alive to him: a leviathan closing in on where he stood, threatening to envelop him into oblivion.

He knew this wasn't true; that he was letting his imagination get the better of him, but still, he moved fully into the sickly amber lamplight.

The light would keep him safe; he just needed to stay within the light.

But that fog still looked ominous; it continued to roll in, seeming to devour the train platform as it crept closer.

Soon there was nothing visible outside the scope of the lamppost's radiant circle of light.

Like in the mists of an intangible dreamscape, he was trapped by the dark grey mists that hemmed in around him.

There was a definite lumbering shape in the dense fog now, rumbling towards him like a nightmare creature come to snatch him away.

As the rumbling increased he began to yell out; scream out in unison with the deafening noise bearing down on him.

Rushing passed him, almost knocking him off balance with its gust of wind, the late night train pulled into the station, causing the misty fog to disperse in curling tendrils

As he realized it was just the train arriving, his screaming died away in the night air as the engine came to its squeaking stop and the doors slid open quietly.

To his side he saw the woman who had been standing on the platform with him the entire time and he motioned for her to step onto the train car first.

She gave him a worried look and opted to hop onto the adjacent car.

With a sigh he got on the train himself and slumped down into one of the empty seats.

It had been a very long day and he was very tired.

Death of the Demon King

Alas, tis a sad day, for our King is dead.

He had ruled over this dark domain for millennia on end, and brought such great suffering to the world; what a glorious reign!

Such pitiless plagues; such perverse pestilence He had spread across the land; not only corrupting the lands themselves, but the hearts and minds of the people who dared lived in the light.

Fa! Such fools! Did they think to resist His dark will!?

How could they have hoped to escape His dominance; so great it was.

Once was.

That will that had once been so powerful it felt as though it would crush the world in His dark grip, had begun to falter as of late.

For centuries passed, the world above had all but forgotten the darkness of below; relegating the realm of monsters and shadow to myths and legends.

And our King had become complacent, allowing the light to continue to radiate and grow.

Thus the time indeed had come for His long reign to come to and end; for myself to orchestrate a shadowy coup unseen.

So now, as I hold His head aloft for you all to see; severed by my own hand, honour him and mourn; the death of your great Demon King!

Rejoice, you dogs! And kneel! Bow before your terrible new Demon Queen!

Destroyer

What had he done?

Along the shore of the coastline, the sheer cliffs rose up from the swirling black waters of the sea as the dark clouds gathered overhead.

Flashes of lightning rumbled with thunder inside the ominous clouds as the storm within grew, threatening to unleash itself upon the green farm lands that lay a top the high-reaching cliffs.

Haemal stood on the rocky shore that led out from the hidden cave entrance to meet the crashing waves of the angry waters that swelled under the darkening skies.

He had only meant to exact revenge on the farm folk that had banished him from the little village above; the village he had lived in all his life; his home.

All for what? Believing he had brought the drought that had caused the crops to wither and die out before they could be harvested?

What reason would he have had to bring about a famine that affected him as well as them?

Just because they thought he had delved too far into the 'black arts'. As if they knew the difference between natural healing and true Black Magic.

Simpletons.

Had he not cured many an ailment with his skills in apothecary? In fact, he had saved no small number of the village's children, who would have surely died without his knowledge of simple healing plants and herbs.

Yet, to the idiot villagers, his medicinal potions were no different than the blackest of magics.

So when they needed to place blame for a run of bad weather, they turned their anger and frustration to him and threatened to do him harm if he did not leave the meagre little hamlet.

Pelting him with the rotten and spoiled crops from their failed harvest, they had run him out of town and forced him to seek shelter in the cold, damp caves of the cliffs below.

There, he had given into his anger and ventured into studying the very subject he had vowed never to practice: Black Magic.

Within the darkness of the caves, he had pored over the volumes of primeval texts he had taken with him and found an incantation that promised to bring punishment to one's enemies.

Little did he know that behind all Dark Magic, laying in wait behind the words written upon the ancient pages, a sinister force awaited a fool to perform the ritual transcribe and release its evil upon the world.

He had been a fool indeed, he thought as he stood in terrified awe of the darkening scene in front of him.

From the depths of the churning waters he could see a humongous shape emerging, its hideous tendrils branching out and reaching up toward the surface; the intangible size of the thing filled Haemal with dread that boarded on madness.

Lightning cracked above and the bright flash lifted his eyes from the dark waters of the sea to the clouds converging above.

And the sight weakened his legs to cause him to drop to his knees and weep.

For the sea had only been the murky reflection of the creature emerging from the darkness of the cloud-filled sky.

What had he done?

In his foolish pursuit for revenge, he had become a puppet of the evil he had been persecuted for.

Screaming in aguish as the tentacles reached down from the clouds that veiled the beast's true form; his last thoughts were the terrible realization that he had brought about the end of all things.

The Maze

The three of them ran down the corridor as the medieval-looking walls closed in on them further and further.

Trace, Chad, and Melody gradually moved from a three-abreast to a single-file formation, desperately trying to make it to the opening at the end of the long, ever-narrowing passageway before being crushed to death.

Ahead of him, Chad watched Trace as she reached the opening and disappeared around its edge moments before he made it himself and leaped around the corner of the opening.

Once around, he found Trace stopped dead in her tracks in front of another opening and barely had time to stop before ramming into her.

From behind he heard Melody's guttural shout as she leapt out of the opening just as the walls slammed unforgivingly together.

Not slowing, she kept right on running passed him and Trace, but snapping out of her gaze, Trace snatched Melody's arm just before she careened straight off the edge of a deep chasm that led into darkness below.

"Whoa, there!" Trace shouted as she held onto the still yelling Melody and pushed her back against the pockmarked stone of the wall that connected to the ledge they stood on; no wider than a few paces.

"Oh, shit!" Melody exclaimed as she realized what was in front of her and her eyes bulged at the seemingly bottomless void they now were faced with. "What's with this place!? I just want to get the hell outta here!"

Trace gripped the panicking Melody by the shoulder and tried to calm her.

"It's okay. We're okay." Trace tried to placate her. "We'll just figure this one out like the rest and we'll be on our way out. Just calm down and take a breather."

Chad strained his eyes to look across the expanse and could see another ledge and opening on the far side. Tracking the opposite side to the left and right, he could see no way across.

"I don't know." He stated in his unperturbed voice. "I can't see any way to get to that other side, and..." Squinting to focus further on the far side, he continued, "...I think, Trace, do you see what I see over there?"

Trace looked from Melody to follow Chad's outstretched arm to where his finger pointed across the wide gorge. To the other side where she could just make out three figures standing on the ledge opposite them. One of them pointing back to where they stood.

"Oh no." Trace said in a downtrodden voice.

"What?" Melody asked frantically as she looked across at what the other two were staring at.

"Great." She exclaimed once she finally saw the others staring back, "a giant mirror wall! So there's probably nothing over there at all to even get to; a trick to make us try and jump or something and just fall forever into this bottomless pit!"

Her voice echoed across the expanse as she slid down the wall to a crouch, holding her head in her hands as she began to rock back and forth.

Chad continued to watch their far reflections as Trace tried to comfort Melody again.

"It's okay, Melody." Trace soothed, "we'll figure something out, maybe we'll just go along the ledge here until we find another opening. What do you think, Chad?"

Before he could respond, Melody laughed derisively.

"Ha! Chad is probably loving all of this!" She huffed accusingly. "An endless, mysterious, and ancient maze, full of deadly traps, all hidden below a legitimately haunted house that he goaded us into exploring! He's probably having the time of his life!"

Starting to laugh hysterically, Melody pushed Trace's arms away and continued to rock on her heels.

"Hey!" Chad's booming shout jolted both women's attention to their usually mild-mannered and good humoured friend.

"Stan is dead!" He cried out. "We evoked the wrath of the spirit of the evil necromancer that built that house up there, when YOU red aloud the inscription on that ebony orb I might add, and have been wondering this ghost-riddled maze for who knows how long. If we don't get killed by the maze's puzzles, or a ghost of one of that guy's victims, we'll probably starve to death because I haven't found anything to eat down here, have you?!"

Calming a little, Chad shivered and continued in his regular voice as the other two stared in shock.

"So, no, Melody," he said with a sigh. "I am not loving it down here."

The three stood in silence for sometime before Chad stomped at a loose stone with his foot.

"Sorry." He said mildly. "I'm hungry and tired and scared. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I just want to get out of here too..."

He stopped as he kicked the loose stone over the edge of the ledge, and instead of falling down into the void of the pit, it seemed to just roll over the ledge and continue on.

"What a second." He said as he peered over the edge.

Trace and Melody looked at each other with mutual puzzlement and then to Chad just as he was stepping over the edge.

"Chad, no!" Trace shouted as she moved to grab him, but it was too late, he had disappeared over the ledge.

She scrambled over to where he had stood and reared back with surprise as his head popped back into view from beyond the darkness.

"It's corner, not a ledge!" Chad told them with glee. "Just step around and the ground is beneath you! Come on, there's an opening just down there!"

He pointed off to a direction hidden by the ledge.

Looking back at the flabbergasted Melody, Trace was flummoxed herself.

"I think we'll be out of here in no time!" Chad reassured in a chipper voice as he stood at an impossible angle.

Later, after escaping the soul survivor of the necromancer's accursed maze, though he would never admit it to anyone aloud, Chad was indeed having a really good time!

Village Dreams

Down in the sleepy village the sun's light was melting away into the western sky as the shade of the mountain branched out along the land to take its place.

Night would soon be upon the little village at the foot of the mountain and its inhabitants were finishing their daily tasks and making their way home to their modest thatched-roof cottages.

They were a good, hard-working folk that helped one another out whenever they could and they led happy, peaceable lives, with their families gathered together in their cozy homes, made warm by the flames alight in the cooking hearths, their lives were fulfilled.

Now that the evening light had faded completely, night had arrived and the villagers readied themselves for bed; for early the next day, the preparations for the winter festival would begin.

Midnight came and all were asleep, slumbering serenely in their warm, straw-laden beds, when a slinking shadow made its way through the empty village street, moving unnaturally against the moon's pale light.

Growing long, the shadow slithered like a serpent and seeped into the window of one of the cottages, where a young child lay sleeping in his bed on the second level loft.

The young boy had no siblings so he enjoyed the privacy of the upper loft to himself as his parents slept soundly on the main floor below.

He had never suffered from bad dreams before, but as the shadow cast its gloom over him, dark and foreboding visions came to him.

Visions of a skewed version of the world he knew; instead of clear blue, the blood red skies of his dream world were the backdrop to high-reaching towers of steel that crowded in on each other and loomed down on tortured figured that toiled and languished in the dirtied and polluted lands below.

None of what the boy saw in his dreams made sense to him, yet the images horrified him beyond anything he had ever witnessed; each more horrifying than the last, until a startling figure came into view above the nightmarish landscape, taking up the entirety of the skies.

The menacing gaze of a black-eyed man with a severe and gaunt face glared down at him within the dream. Yet, those pools of blackness seemed to somehow see through the dream, and gaze at him truly where he lay whimpering in his bed, still asleep.

A sneer slid across the man's face to reveal a mouth full of glinting, razor-sharp teeth that sent a wave of fresh terror through the boy, and then the truly terrifying revelation came to the slumbering child.

Somehow, the loathsome visage staring down at him through his dream was his own grown self; a twisted and blasphemous version of the man he would become.

With a jolt the boy awoke and cried out for his parent; the slinking shadow shrinking back out the window before they arrived to comfort their weeping son.

Back down the village street and out into the darkness of the surrounding forest trees, the shadow shrunk back until it became the hunched figure of a cloaked individual, hiding from sight amongst the old oaks.

Their task complete, the figure turned to shamble away further into the wood so that they were totally hidden by the darkness of the cover of the tall trees.

A strange sound came from within the darkness and then dissipated; leaving the sleepy village that lay nestled between the vast forest and the curving river alone and at peace once again.

From high up on the mountain top, a slight rumble sounded the beginning of what was to come.

Beginning

High up on a mountain top, the night wind blows and a portal opens in the air just above the stony ledge with a strange sound.

Out of the portal a dark figure steps down onto the snow-swept stone, and the razor-thin slice in the air closes with another odd sound; leaving the figure alone in the dim moonlight.

The figure lets their cloak loose to flutter in the whipping wind behind them like a cape, revealing their long, slender face in the pale light. The severe looking man seems unaffected by the harsh winds and freezing temperatures as he scans the area with dark eyes, which come to rest upon a small cave bore into the mountain side.

Striding purposefully to the cave, he ducks under the low hanging entrance to stand just inside; sliding into the shadows, just out of sight.

Once again the mountain top seems deserted.

Moments later, a new portal appears near the cave entrance with its distinctive sound and another figure steps out from its void.

The new cloaked figure stoops and twitches like a wary animal, awaiting the pounce of a predator, as they edge their way against the mountain side. Their portal dissipates and leaves them too close to the cliff edge for their liking.

Sliding over to the cave opening, the figure moves to slip inside when the taller hidden figure reveals himself out of the shadows of the opening.

“Have you done as I have asked, retch?” he asks in a harsh, commanding voice as he brings himself up to full height, looming over the cowering and hunched figure, who scrambles back away to a safe distance.

“Oh!” they exclaim with choked terror. “ Y..yes, Master Luvoa! Yes, of course! Hasn’t Grunder always done as you’ve asked?” Grunder grovels as their cowl drops to reveal their disfigured face and sickly yellow eyes. “Grunder only wants to please you, Master Luvoa. For Master Luvoa revealed to Grunder the mysteries of Magi...”

Luvoa moves in on Grunder with a dominate step, “Quit your grovelling!” he growls, his black eyes shining fiercely in the moonlight. “I detest your snivelling voice! I only allow you to work the tiniest of Magics; enough to do my bidding. Otherwise, I would crush you like the insect you are!”

Grunder shields themselves from the threatening raised hand of their master, but Luvoa softens slightly and smirks as he pets Grunder’s head.

“But since you have done as I have asked,” Luvoa soothes, “there will be no need for that; at the moment. Now, come. Let us look upon what we have done.”

The tall man leads the still wary Grunder over to the edge of the maintain ledge, and they peer down at the sleepy lands below.

Luvoa puts a hand on Grunder’s back and the servant flinches as though anticipating being thrown off the mountain top as Luvoa laughs malevolently at his servant’s terror.

“See, my friend?” he invites as he sweeps his other hand over the lands laying far below. “As the land sleeps we have set in motion events that will give us everything we want; everything I deserve!”

Still with terror in their eyes, Grunder gazes down at the tiny village that lies at the foot of the mountain; nestled between the curving river and the snow-tipped trees of the vast forest that stretches into the horizon.

White smoke, barely visible from their high vantage point, puffs out of the chimneys of the thatched roofed cottages as the villagers slumber peacefully in their beds.

It had seemed only a small thing Grunder had done, it had changed nothing that they could see.

“But Grunder doesn’t understand, master.” they stammer timidly. “We only gave that young one a simple dream, how can...”

“Shh.” Luvoa puts his long, slender finger to his tight lips. “Dreams are the most powerful of all Magics. They are the seeds of thoughts. And do you know what thoughts do, my friend?”

Looking up at Luvoa, Grunder shakes their head, dumbfounded.

“Thoughts,” Luvoa continues, “lead to ideas. And ideas lead to actions. And actions lead to the future. And the future leads to me!”

A cracking boom shakes the mountain top and Luvoa looks around with wonder as Grunder cowers.

“You see?” he exclaims in excitedly hushed tones. “It’s happening!”

“What is, Master?” Grunder asks in terror.

Luvoa looks down at Grunder with a terrifyingly gleeful glimmer in his black eyes; sharp, pointed teeth showing as his lips pull back into a wide, malicious smile.

“Why, the Beginning, of course!”

The End

Mother's Helper

The young girl pulled her wagon behind her as she walked with purpose down the sidewalk toward the little grocery store that was only a few blocks from their house.

Jostling and clattering along the concrete, the little red wagon was empty save for its lone passenger; her stuffed teddy bear, Sam.

Sam the bear bounced haphazardly as she continued on her journey to the store with the determination of a child set on a mission.

Unnoticed by the girl, passersby smiled to each other at the adorable child with her stuffed animal and toy wagon on her errand.

Arriving at the quaint food market, the little girl entered and went unseen by the busy cashier as her head barely peaked over the edge of the partition that separated the entrance and exit doors.

Taking out her list from the front pocket of her overalls, written out in coloured pencils, the child went up and down the aisles gathering the grocery items printed with careful penmanship on the lined paper.

Once Sam the bear was crowded with apples, crackers, milk, cereal, and an odd amount of meats from the butcher's counter, she trundled her wagon up to the check out and began arduously lifting each item up onto the conveyer belt.

The teenaged cashier had to peer over the counter to see where the groceries were appearing from, and smiled a little unsure at the small girl unloading her wagon-full of food stuffs to be scanned.

The little girl looked up from her task and smiled brightly back at the wary grocer.

"My mom's not feeling very good, so she sent me to pick up some things while she rests in bed." She offered matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I see." The cashier responded, a tad dumbfounded, but began scanning through the assortment of items as they moved along the conveyer.

The total came up on the display screen and before the teen could ask how she was going to pay, the little girl dutifully held up a fan of bills to cover the cost.

After making change and bagging the groceries, the cashier helped load the wagon back up; being careful not to squish Sam the bear in the process.

The little girl thanked them and tugged on the wagon handle roughly to start off on her way out to the exit and back outside.

Making her way back home, the girl trudged a bit heavier-footed with the now full wagon, but with the same steadfast determination she had had at the start of her journey.

Reaching the big house with the wrap-around porch her mother and her called home, the girl turned up the walkway and stopped the wagon at the foot of the wooden porch steps, letting it bang against them to a halt.

Leaving Sam alone in the wagon, she slowly lugged each plastic bag full of food up the stairs and brought them all into the foyer of the old, yet well-maintained house before beginning to unpack them and put each item into their place, either in the cupboards or refrigerator.

As she put the last of the groceries away and was bunching up the plastic bags into the bag holder under the sink, a noise from the floor above made her look suddenly upwards with a worried look upon her youthful face.

A noise like someone moving across the wooden floor in the room directly above; her mother's bedroom.

With a heavy sigh, the now weary little girl went back to the fridge to pull out a package of bloody hunks of meat she had purchased from the store.

Slopping the red meat chunks into a clean bowl, she carried it out to the hall and up the creaking stairs that led to the second floor.

The noises grew louder as she neared the closed door of her mother's room at the front of the house, along the narrow upstairs hallway.

Sounds of someone moving cumbersomely mixed in with a strange metallic noise came from behind the door as she put her hand on the knob. As she turned the antique crystal doorknob, the noises cut off abruptly and the door opened upon creaking hinges into the dark of the room.

The opening door let the sunlight in from the well-lit hallway windows; a slowly widening wedge that revealed a heavily scuffed and scratched hardwood floor. Marks made by heavy metal chains and sharp animal-like claws.

Standing silhouetted, the girl's figure was tiny and small in the doorframe.

"Mommy?" She spoke barely above a whisper. "I brought you dinner. Are you feeling any better?"

She held out the bowl of meat and cautiously peered into the still dim corner of the dark bedroom. The smell of rotten meat filled the room and the girl tried not to gag as she took a timid step forward.

Movement in the shadows at the far side of the room stopped her advance and she bent down, never taking her eyes off the darkened area where something waited, watching in the shadows.

Placing the bowl on the floor and slowly pushing it along the marred wood, the little girl tried to move it as far into the room as possible without actually moving closer herself.

Instantaneously, an inhuman screech came from the shadows and a hideous figure lunged out with skeletal arms and razor-like fingers that no longer resembled human hands, but a creature's claws.

The monstrous creature was a twisted nightmare of how her beautiful mother had once looked. Her skin, grey and almost translucent; her once lush, dark brown hair had all but fallen out, leaving only patches of thin wisps on her otherwise bald head.

Gaunt and wiry, her soiled clothes hung off of her in rags; ripped and torn with slashes upon her skin showing underneath. Slashes and cuts that were self-inflicted as though she had been trying to ripped her own skin off.

Yet it was her eyes that held the most terror for the young girl. They had always been a bright emerald green, but now they were a solid black that seemed to seethe with hatred and rage toward her from the darkness of her maddened mind.

Jumping back outside the door, the little girl narrowly missed being snatched by the monster who had been her mother before the chain around its neck ended and stopped the thing in its tracks.

Swiping and gnashing its sharpen teeth at the girl, the creature continued to struggle against its chain shackles, wildly trying to attack its only daughter.

"You eat your dinner, mommy." The little girl stammered, "Eat it and maybe you'll get better soon, okay?"

Snarling madly, her mother knocked over the bowl with her stamping feet and she noticed the bloody meat for the first time as it spilled out over the floor.

Ravenously, she attacked the chunks little a starved animal, as her daughter watched on with tears welling up in her own green eyes.

"Please get better, mommy. I love you." She said as she closed the door upon the monster as the noises of it eating grotesquely in the dark masked the crying sounds from the little girl as she slumped to the ground on the other side.

Spectre

He felt the presence of a shadow behind him, moving in unison with his own footsteps as he walked home along the dimly lit street.

Its spectre had been there throughout the day, yet in the sunlight it was diminished, faded into the background so he had almost forgotten about it.

Now, in the night hours, the ominous entity was a dense sensation behind him, following just out of his field of vision so that each time he dared a look back over his shoulder, nothing was there, except the foreboding dread that he knew to be hiding beyond the street lamps' light glowing borders.

Hurrying along his way, he arrives at his house and enters the front door in an almost frantic state.

Safely on the other side of the big wooden front door, he leans against its solidness, catching his breath as he laughs at himself for being so worked up over nothing.

But had it been nothing? Perhaps, but that feeling of dread as if his phantom follower was closing in him; ready to envelop his very self in its dark, shadowy abyss did not feel like nothing.

He locks the door and walks down the hallway to put his coat in the closet under the stairs that leads up to the second floor.

Turning quickly around at movement out of the corner of his eye he catches the sight of his own reflection in the hall mirror and startles himself, and he laughs once more at his foolishness.

Jumping at shadows, he thinks to himself as he shakes his head and walks away from the mirror's reflection.

Yet, his reflection does not move with him; indeed its familiar visage becomes stern and menacing as it watches its unsuspecting doppelganger move down the hallway.

Slowly, a chilling sneer spreads across its lips and it moving as swiftly as a shadow, it blurs out of sight of the mirror's frame.

Outside the still darkened house, a scream breaks the calm of the evening, only to be cut off abruptly once again, retuning the quiet to the sleepy, shadow-filled street.

Christmas Carol

Oh, Carol, how I wish you were here with me now. I have been good all year and now I am missing you; wishing you were here with me on this lonely Christmas night.

I think of the times we had and the love that we shared and I want you to come back to me; come back to me now, so I can make it right.

Oh, Carol, how I wish I could take all that I said and all that I did. If you came back to me now you would see, I really have been good ever since you went away. For now I only sit and look out the window, waiting for your return, but there is only the wind blowing cold outside in the dark, wintery night.

It was a night just like tonight that you took your leave, and I hope that now, perhaps you will finally come back to me, tonight of all nights. But lo and behold, what is this I see in the distance now; a slender, spectral figure, clad all in white.

Is it you who I see? Is it you who has come back to me? I knew you could not be held, deep down in the frozen, earthly soil of your shallow grave. I knew you would come back to me, oh Carol, are you not the most wonderful sight!

But why do you seem so full of anger and rage, my love? You cannot still be mad at me. After all, I did bring you back. I know I was the one, who put you in that hole in the ground, but I have been so good and spoke the spells and incantations correctly; I preformed the rituals right.

Oh, Carol, I have brought you back to me, granted, with the same black magic that I used to murder you the year before, but that was so long ago. Can you not forgive me? Please, my love, why put your cold, dead hands around my throat? Please, Carol, oh please, what will the neighbours think, when they find my body throttled by a ghost? They will certainly die of fright.

Insidious

Far out in the middle of the sea, there is a small, tree-filled island, and in amongst the woods the island there is a small, dark cave.

Inside the darkness of the cave there lives one of the most insidious of creatures has ever been.

No one has ever been to this island in the sea, or even knows that it is there, yet they have all seen the creature that resides within the depths its cavern, though they may not have been aware.

For each day before the dawn sun rises, it slinks its way out of the dark, hovel hole and spreads its evil across the world.

Though you may not recognize it, you too have encountered the foul fiend, perhaps even today.

For it can disguise itself cleverly; it can become whatever it needs to be, to carry out its dastardly scheme.

It could have been the one who secretly turned off your alarm clock late last night, causing you to be tardy for work once again.

It could have taken the shape of the sweet little old woman who snuck into line in front of you, only to insist on paying her bill with all the change at the bottom of her enormous handbag.

Or perhaps it took the more sinister form of that irritable barista at you local coffee cafe, who purposefully took your ritual order wrong, only you realized it after you had gone.

Maybe even the most malevolent manifestation of all, that group of tourists that stopped at the top of the escalator to plan out their day, while the gangs of commuters piled up behind you, jostling into you and making you spill your incorrectly-made morning brew all over the front of your newly bought shirt.

All these shapes and forms to attain its purpose, its main goal; to impede you, to cause you delay, to make you feel like you are having the very worst day.

Each day it accomplishes this, it returns once again to its lonely island cave, to laugh to itself in the darkness and gloom; to giggle itself to sleep, to awaken once more, to try and ruin your day.

Yet, there is a way to fight this most terrible of monsters, to not let it have its own way; simply do not let it get to you. Just smile, and say, 'Have a nice day!'

Just breathe and be kind, despite what others do or say.

If only everyone would do this, the creature would be vanquished, its reign of terror at an end.

But until then, it sits and smiles maliciously, from out of the shadows of its cave, deep within the small forest island, far out in the middle of the sea.

Hideous

Sometimes it is hard to be a hideous monster, Gorak thought to himself as he stomped home after the long, dark night.

Not the terrifying the humans that slipped into the dark nether regions of the Darkness, between Waking world and the world of Dreams part; that was the fun part.

No, it was the drudging hours spent waiting in cramped, damp spaces like beneath cellar staircases, under close-to-the-floor beds, or in over-filled and disorganized closets, just for the few fleeting moments when a frightened human happened to catch a glimpse of his nightmarish form.

Their screams were delicious, but his massive size made for many uncomfortable nights.

And though he was well-liked in the Company, and the higher-ups were happy with his performance, it was always those slick, wraith-like types that were all long fingers and teeth that kept getting promoted over him; he lacked the drive to bring new and innovative ideas to the field of terror to really make it.

He was just a big, lumbering beast that looked scary but he never got into the mind games that his supervisors were looking for in upper management. Or so they said at his quarterly revues, but he knew they thought he was too dumb to be really life-scaringly scary.

Maybe he was, he thought, maybe he would just be the grotesque hulk that lurked in the dark, night in and night out until he was too old and too tired to do anything else.

With a big sigh he turned up the walkway to his small, one bedroom cave, pushed the door boulder aside and lurched sadly inside. He plopped down on his recliner chair and turned on the television to see what new horrors were happening around the world he could use in his nightly excursions.

Slowly, his heavy eye lids began to droop and, like most days, he fell asleep in his chair in front of the flickering images of the atrocities the humans did to themselves; if only he could think of something half as terrible as those, he would be chairman of the board already.

Instead he drifted into his usual nightmare, the one where he worked at the animal shelter with hundreds of cute puppies and fluffy kittens all jumping on him and licking his face. It was real terror.

Fortune

The street lamps flickered in the distance and then, one by one, started to blink out.

Sonja's mind raced with fear as the darkness of the deserted street marched toward her with each failing lamp post.

This cannot be happening. She thought to herself. That old fraud could not have done this.

It was only her mind playing tricks on her.

But the dark spreading toward her seemed very real and very final as she stood on the damp sidewalk, frozen with fright.

She should not have listen to Fiona; her stupid friend had suggested that it would be fun to go to the old fortune teller tonight instead of going to the usual Halloween parties. And when the creepy woman in the cluttered and incense-stinking shop had suggested Fiona was a shallow and vapid person, she should not have let her storm out without paying the woman for her unappreciated services.

The crone had grown scarily angry and muttered some incantation in a language Sonja did not understand or even recognize. Before she could go after her friend, the crazed woman clutched at her arm with a bony hand, cursing that, 'the darkness will take the both of you!'

Sonja pulled herself away and ran out of the grimy shop after her friend, however, Fiona was no where to be seen. Sonja called after her as she quickly walked back down the street the way they came but her friend had seemed to have just vanished into the night.

As she had walked on, there seemed to be fewer and fewer people out on the street, until it felt as though the entire neighbourhood had been abandoned and Sonja was left alone in the lamp-lit night.

And now, those lights were going out as she stood and watched fearfully, until all but the lone streetlamp post that shined down upon her were darkened.

From her tiny island of light, she looked frantically around; searching for signs of any other illumination, but there was only the complete and utter darkness that surrounded her now.

As her eyes strained to see anything in the pitch black that lay beyond the circle of amber light she dared not move from, something large and hideous moved in the shadows just on the edge of her field of vision.

Sonja's blood turned to ice as she heard the unmistakable sound of heavy hooves stepping on the cement of dark sidewalk outside the circle of lamp light.

A huge and menacing presence loomed up from the darkness behind her, and though she dared not turn to see it, she knew it had come for her.

One single, crunching hoof clomped down; breaking into the sanctuary of light, and Sonja let out a blood-curdling cry, sprinting out into the darkness; her fear of what lay in wait abandoned to the need to get away from whatever nightmare was behind.

Her scream was cut abruptly short as a car horn blared and its tires screeched on the pavement, too late to avoid hitting the woman that had suddenly run out into the middle of the street.

As the diver got out a saw the crumpled body of Sonja lying on the ground in front of his car, he looked around at the well-lit street and called out for the passer-bys to call for help.

In the crowd of people the had gathered to witness the grisly scene, the little old fortune teller stood watching, her wrinkled and creased face, distorted by the lamp light, and by the cruel smile she wore with satisfaction.

My Love

Why do you shake, my love?

Though, the fire is roaring with its heat so bright,

There is indeed a chill in the air that cuts me to the very bone.

Why do you shiver and quake, my love?

For it was I that was lost in the dark and cold of the woods tonight,

Though I cannot remember how I came to be there, dirty and alone.

Why have you gone so pale, my love?

It was I who had visions so terrible and full of fright;

Visions of being buried alive in the earth so deep,

For past sins I had to atone.

Why do you not come to me, my love?

I have returned home to you, but you do not delight.

After I awoke in that muddied field,

At the foot of that foreboding tombstone.

What is that you whisper, my love?

I cannot not hear what you have said.

Mutterings to yourself,

That I cannot be here...

That I am dead.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rk7B-E4oIWA

Trunk

Along the sidewalk of the tree-lined street, the little old man shambled; his beat up steamer trunk in tow. The rusty wheels of the trunk's hand cart rattled loudly, breaking the peaceful quiet of the residential avenue.

On their way to school, Richie and Tim doddled as they stopped to look at the strange wildlife of caterpillars, beetles, and spiders that thrived upon the grassy yards of the well-kept homes they passed.

Across the street, Richie spotted the little old man who had stopped and set up his trunk atop the hand cart which doubled as a stand for the worn and battered case.

The hunched man stood serenely beside his closed trunk; as if awaiting any interested parties to arrive.

Richie tugged at Tim's packsack and motioned for them to go over to see what the old man was all about.

Reluctantly, Tim followed as he ran to catch up to Richie who had already started to cross over to where the benign looking old man stood.

"Hey, Mister," Richie blared unabashedly. "Whatcha got in the trunk, there?"

The old man smiled to greet them as Tim came up beside his friend, but the way in which his grin did not touch his black eyes made Tim's skin crawl. There was nothing benign about the little old man in the brown polyester suit.

"Oh, hello, boys." He said in a tinny voice that set Tim's teeth on edge. "My trunk? Oh well, I have something very unique inside; very special."

He placed his ancient fingers upon the leather-bound case, gently kneading its scuffed surface as he leaned in closer so he could lower his already quiet voice to a whisper.

"Would you believe," he started, the black pools of his eyes glistening. "That inside this old trunk of mine, I have a real, honest and true ghost?"

Richie scoffed loudly, but Tim's eyed the case warily.

"There ain't no such thing as ghosts, mister." Richie stated brazenly. "My dad told me, they're just in stories to scare people."

"Oh?" the old man questioned mockingly. "Is that so? Well, I can tell you for a fact that there are ghosts and that I have one right here in this trunk."

Tim looked from the serpent-like smirk on the old man's wrinkled face to the mysterious steamer trunk with an impending sense of dread that made his stomach tense and knot.

Richie laughed out loud this time.

"Oh yeah?" he said belligerently. "Prove it. Show us your 'ghost'!" he nudged Tim with his elbow knowingly, but Tim continued to stare at the now menacing trunk on its rickety old cart stand.

A curious thought popped into his and a got the better of his fear so he heard himself start to speak before he realized what he was doing.

"How," he creaked, "how did you catch a ghost in there?" His own voice seemed distant in his ears. "If it's a ghost, couldn't it just float through the case and escape?"

Finally looking back to the old man, Tim was startled by the knowing wink he gave as his smile grew, this time making it all the way to his raven-black eyes; making him all the more terrible.

"Ah, yes." The old man delighted. "That's the tricky part. You see this is a very special trunk. Why don't you boys come closer and I'll show you."

Crossing his arms in defiance, Richie scoffed again and took a bold step toward the trunk. Tim however, an icy chill stealing over his heart, shook his head and took a step back.

"We... we better get to school, Richie." He said as he tried to pull his friend away by his shirt sleeve.

But Richie pulled away, moving closer to the trunk still.

"We got time." Richie stated, not taking his eyes off the old man who simply smiled his sickly smiled back at the pig-headed boy. "Go on, show us."

Sliding his bony hands to the trunk's tarnished brass latches, the old man's smile broadened and he became even more hunched and warped-looking as the locks snapped open.

"You sure now?" The old man inquired, almost gleefully. "You really want to see?"

Tim backed away as the trunk top creaked open to let a sliver of the darkness it held inside, and real fear gripped him; terror at what was in that darkness.

Richie's smug expression started to falter as the lid slowly opened wider and Tim almost thought he heard him whisper, "No."

But he would never be sure, for as he looked on in terror, the image of Richie doubled and a transparent version of his friend began to be pulled from his solid form and sucked into the blackness within the trunk.

Finally finding his legs, Tim turned and ran; horrid cries from Richie mixed with the cackling laughter of the old man filled his ears as he sprinted down the street, leaving his friend and the nightmare of what was happening behind him.

The screams and laughter faded and were soon replaced by the noisy squeaking wheels of the big, leather-bound trunk being pulled along on its cart by the little old man in his brown polyester suit, shambling along the picturesque suburban street.