Halloween in JulyA Chapter by Venompen
The tear happened slowly, floating over the pond’s fountain. It started with a terrible noise. It was a demonic sound, like electricity crackling over the flesh of someone being ripped limb from limb. A hush fell over the crowd. Black Kat and the Broken Mirrors stopped playing. A sort of looming dread formed within me, and I could tell it was the same cold fear creeping up the spines and into the hearts of those around me. I was shivering. The tear was visible now. It was like a ripple in three dimensions. Like a sphere that was trying to decide whether or not it existed. Soon the big black ball of indecisive existence was the size of a man. Suddenly, a flash of bright yellow appeared in the core of the tear. It blinked. A horrifying wail like the ghost of a dragon pierced the night. My ears were assaulted by a volley of screams as the crowd sprinted like so many gazelles for the nearest place that wasn’t here. Sara was pulling on my arm, but for some reason I couldn’t leave. I stood there, despite my fear, transfixed by this anomaly. I swallowed my fear, beat back my instinct for survival, and I held my ground. Next to me, my friend shouted in fear. I don’t recall what she said. Again and again she pulled, but I stayed. Tears streamed down her face, and she let go of me, sprinting away with the crowd. The anomaly over the water was the size of a truck now, and I could see that it wasn’t casting a reflection. The lights from the stage seemed to glow right through it. Suddenly, the tear sprouted an appendage that was fairly certain of its existence. The huge demon’s head reminded me instantly of a jack-o-lantern. It was a huge, crude, boulder-like hollow ball, with a mouth and eyes crudely hacked out as if by some demented butcher. It was lit from within by a cold yellow light. It looked like stone, but bent and stretched like rubber as it opened it s fanged mouth wide. That unearthly roar came again. I could see, this time, a crystal within the beast’s hollow head. The source of that light.
Suddenly, something sparked in my mind like a power line in a pool of gasoline, and a forgotten memory flooded my senses. For a few minutes, I was a baby again. I was cradled in my mother’s arms, and I looked up at her smiling face. She had my eyes… or perhaps it was the other way around. My hair was the same color, but hers was curled and bushy. She handed me over to my father, and I could swear his face looked just like mine, save the hair and they eyes. His hair was short and straight. Suddenly, that cold fear gripped me. I started to cry. My parent’s faces fell. Suddenly, with a great crunching noise, and a frigid wind, we were bathed in darkness. All I could see was a cruel, crude face, lit from within. My mother screamed.
When I was myself again, I was on my knees. My mind was reeling. I didn’t know it then, but I had just seen the moments preceding my parents’ demise. The only memory I had of their faces had been blotted out by trauma. And all it took to bring it back was the demonic jack-o-lantern. Thankfully, I had the sense to look up right then, or this tale would be fairly short. Jack was standing now, just pulling his right leg out of the tear. He was huge. He was at least four stories tall, his pumpkin head perched atop a spindly black frame, a crude imitation of a human skeleton. A ribcage that had too many ribs on one side and not enough on the other. Excuse me for not bothering to count. His wrists were twin cages of three bars, and his spine was far too short. Every finger and toe was capped with a long violently purple claw. Quite understandably, I screamed like a little girl. It turned its pumpkin head and narrowed its eyes at me.
© 2011 Venompen
The Life and Times of Peter Rennings
Los Alamos, NM
AboutI do not review your work unless you review mine. I hold this policy because, thanks to all the quick and easy poetry on this site, noone spares a second for a story author such as myself. If you've.. more..