Zak turned, angry and cold. He had every intention of calling the superintendent, but there would be no phone calls anytime soon. Zak stepped back, as three black creatures crept towards him. He recognized them as the creatures in his dream. Their small furry frames covered in matted black fur. Their eyes and mouths were stitched closed by three small X'.
They danced and shook violently as they approached him. Zak tried to move, but it was as if the cold had frozen him in place. The creatures slowed - he stared down at each of the identical-looking beasts.
Zak broke free of his fear and lunged for the bed as one of the creatures flew at him. He heard the thud as it hit the wall. He turned to see the other two helping the third to its feet.
Quickly he made his way over the bed and to the door. The knob was stuck, and when Zak tried to remove his hand, he realized his hand was stuck too. Frantically he tried to open the door, then tried to free his hand from the doorknob. He could hear behind him the approaching creatures as they dragged their feet across the hardwood floor. The scratching got louder as Zak increased his tempo of pushing and pulling on the door. Still it would not budge.
He let off a wail of fear as one of the creatures lunged onto his back. He looked over his shoulder as the stitched eyes monster seemed to be staring back at him. Then it tried to open its mouth. The stitches, which appeared to be pulpy flesh, stretched to reveal a row of shiny silver teeth. The creature couldn't keep its mouth open though, and with each effort, its mouth would clamp down tighter. Zak slapped at the thing as he continued frantically to open the door.
Another wail crossed his lips when the second creature pounced on him. He could feel their claws digging into his shoulder and back as they began to tear at him.
Soon all three of the creatures were on him, each clawing at him, and fighting to get their mouths open so they could devour him. The pain in his back was blinding. Still he tried to open the door with the hand that was stuck to the doorknob. With his free hand he slapped at the creatures, trying to get hold of their fur, something to help him get them off.
"Oh-God!" Zak Tran woke with a fright. His hands dug into the arm of the chair, and his legs pulled close to his chest.
"You did not thank Jahobe."
Zak jumped from the chair. He backed into the kitchen, pointing a trembling finger. "How did you get in here?" He asked the old woman.
"You did not thank Jahobe, so he sent me to deliver a message."
"What the-"
"Jahobe says that you are ungrateful."
"I never asked for anything, you-"
"Jahobe says you will get back what he has taken."
"No! I will thank Jahobe!"
Zak watched the old woman as she walked away. "It is too late, Jahobe says."
Zak chased the old woman as she entered the hallway, but he was too late. The old woman vanished like an apparition.
Zak hadn't left his apartment in two days. He sat up in his bed rocking himself. On the table sat the small bottle of remedy that had brought him the great relief. The relief he still felt, but didn't know if it would stay forever now. Christmas was in three days and he would see another one as Dr. Gibbons suggested, or would he?
Outside his apartment, he could see the reflection of the blinking Christmas lights. A hush of Christmas songs he could hear through the walls of his apartment. It was a festive time, a time of family and friends, but not for Zak. He alienated his friends from work after he got sick. And his family in Vietnam disowned him for fleeing to America. Christmas was never festive for him anyway; he hated the holidays, this one the most.
He clutched at his stomach. His pain was replaced with the sickly feeling of fear in the pit of his abdomen. The old woman had spooked him, and the creatures in his dreams terrified him. He had only slept once since the old woman's visit, and there again the black creatures visited him.
He felt the sleep creeping up on him as he rocked. He wasn't about to sleep. Zak grabbed his coat and decided to head for the diner. He walked quickly through the dark hallways and down the stairs. He kept an eye open for the old woman.
He stepped out into the snow. The large flakes floated gently all around him. It was the kind of snow that brought a stillness to the night. The streetlights captured by the low hanging clouds provided a sense of warmth. The streets were clear of traffic, and he found himself alone in an otherwise busy neighborhood.
His trek was accompanied by the crunch of fresh snow beneath his feet. How long it had been snowing he did not know, but it was a steady flow, laying a white blanket of maybe four or five inches. He kept a weary eye out to his right and left, occasionally peeking behind him to make sure the old lady wasn't following. Zak Tran was not a violent man by any means, but he had decided during the past days that if the old lady ever showed herself again, he couldn't promise that he wouldn't hurt her.
The diner was closed, the sign that hung in the middle of the door read, "Be back at 4:00 a.m." He hadn't even bothered to check the time before he left. He looked down at his wristwatch, '3:35 a.m.' it read. He dropped his hand in disgust. At least the walk in the cold and snow woke him up. He headed back to his apartment, his step a little quicker and his eyes more attentive.
As he approached the steps to his apartment, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He looked quickly to his right. There in the middle of the street stood the old lady. Zak stopped and turned back down the steps. He ran as the old woman turned and walked away. She moved swiftly, almost as if she were floating over the powder. Zak tried to pick up the pace and catch her before she slipped between the buildings. He failed.
When he reached the alley, the old woman was gone. Zak walked in a few feet before backing back out. He wasn't about to venture in and chase after her. He walked back to where the old woman was standing. She had dropped something that he hadn't noticed before. It was a small handkerchief with the word 'Jahobe' stitched in small X's. Something else too, there were no footprints except for his in the fresh powder. He turned back to the alley, looking through the shadows to the lights from the next street. Zak dropped the handkerchief and rubbed his hands on his pants as if to clean them.
He walked backwards for several steps, stumbling over the curb back onto the sidewalk. That's when he saw them, the black creatures as they danced from the alley and out into the street. The ugly little beasts held hands and frolicked in the snow, tumbling and throwing snow back and forth. Zak didn't stick around while the creatures played. He ran up the sidewalk towards his apartment building like he had never run before. The snowflakes whisked by him as he sped through the night and up the stairs, entering the building in a thunder. He thought briefly as he bolted up the stairs to stop at one of the apartments and ask for help. They would think I was nuts, he thought as he continued.
The door to his apartment slammed hard behind him. He struggled with the locks. It was all he could do to steady his hand to lock the chain and deadbolt. He turned against the door and let himself slide to his rear. He sat there, trying to slow his breathing. The ache in his lungs stung with each deep and abrupt breath he took.
Outside the door, he could hear the creatures as they ambled up the steps. Surely, someone else has to hear the racket they were making. He looked over at the phone. "Someone has to call the cops," he mumbled as he scrambled to his feet and backed away from the door.
Zak held the receiver in his hand, when the uncanny silence drew his attention away. He returned the receiver, his brow furrowed in curiosity. He moved gingerly towards the door, each step, a quiet cat-like move. Uncertainty ruled his action, and curiosity moved his limbs. Had the creatures gone? Perhaps the old woman had returned? He hoped the latter.
Pressing an ear up against the solid wood door, he listened carefully for any movement or noise from the creatures. He heard nothing, so decided he would open the door. He reached for the deadbolt when he heard them again. Quickly he backed away as the creatures scratched at the door. The noise was incredible, the clawing and now banging that rattled the door. Zak backed away as the door buckled, then began to splinter. Soon the menacing black creatures had broken through his door.
The three black creatures moved intently across the floor to where Zak stood. They were quick, not stopping to play or jest among themselves. Zak crumbled to the floor in fear of the monsters. Their stitched mouths and eyes struggled to open, stretching the stitching until they broke. He tried to scream as the three emerald-eyed beast overtook him. He tried to fight them off - his arms wailed about, but each time he struck the creatures they would just run right back and climb on top of him.
He struggled, hoping that perhaps this too was a dream and that he would wake at any moment in a cold sweat and laugh the whole business off. But they were hurting him now. Their sharp silver claws dug into his flesh as they chattered their jagged silver teeth. He tired, as the pain and insistence of their attack wore him down. He submitted, dropping his hands. He thought about Christmas, and how he was going to see another one. He wasn't so certain now, though days before he wished he'd die and get it over with.
The creatures, they stopped as well. The three gathered around Zak's head, all staring down mischievously at him. Then six little hands reached out and grabbed at his mouth. They forced it open, with remarkable ease. Then one by one they leaned over and crawled into his mouth, forcing their way past his lips. Zak struggled as each of them clawed down his throat. He could feel them wiggling inside his stomach, working their way down.
He screamed, but only the hiss of the creatures could be heard as they consumed him.
Zak could hear the carolers as they sang a joyful Christmas song. They wandered the street below, bringing cheer to everyone. They came every Christmas morning. Their joy-filled songs were of peace and laughter. He found no comfort in them, for three Christmases now.
He grimaced at the pain in his abdomen as he crawled over to the table. He longed for the small bottle, the one filled with the remedy. But it was gone and in its place was a small handkerchief with the name 'Jahobe ' stitched into it. It was a gift from the old woman, who came and retrieved her remedy.
The pain was unbearable, worse than before. The cancer had spread from his abdomen to his stomach and pancreas. Three places now, three places of pain, and no room for relief. The pills all made him sick and he refused hospice care. He'd rather lay up in his apartment and waste away. Or, perhaps as his cruel fate had already dictated, he would suffer through a fourth Christmas.
Zak Tran did make a list this year. It seemed that Santa didn't deliver to his apartment. He only asked for one thing. Surely the man could accommodate his one wish-death.
L.J. Blount
L.J. Blount has been writing for a little over two-years. His work has appeared at numerous houses, both in print and online. This includes the appearance in the Cold Storage Anthology. But, it is the future that is more in turn. Aside from his work in Atrocitas Aqua Anthology, he has several projects on tap for 2003. These included the publication of his first short story collection entitled: Dark Vigil (which will be released as an ebook (02/03) and a TPB (06/03). His first novel will be released later in 2003 (entitled: Augur of Armageddon). Also, he has two other stories to be released in separate DDP anthologies later 2003.
To visit L.J. Blount: drop by his website: http://www.geocities.com/myth_spinner/
By John Edward Lawson
"Oh you kids, settle down now, settle down. For gosh sakes!" Really now, I wish Darla could get these children to behave in a manner at least approaching "proper" some of the time so I wouldn't always have to play the heavy. "Sit down, sit down now. You're going to miss it!"
Darla opts to sit on the chair, leaving room on the sofa for the kids to sit next to me. With the familiar sounds of bells and choirs and that crooner from the fifties coming from the television, Darlene and Billy realize that the festivities really are about to get underway. Without further dramatics they plop themselves down next to me, directly across from the screen, almost shaking with anticipation.
"I always liked this version of the song better. That rock 'n roll one they did really stunk to high heaven."
"Oh," Darla says, realization making her sit up straight as a board. "I should have put on the holiday CD. Should I do it now or later?"
"Later, later," I say without taking my eyes off the screen.
I'll admit that maybe the child in me still becomes all giddy on the eve of our most important family holiday. On the dinner table wait the alluring holiday puddings, homemade, their comforting aromas making it all the harder for us to sit still. The coffee table directly before us holds a number of utensils, some of my tools, and a bunch of the children's pencil sharpeners, those little plastic ones that fit over the pencil. I really wish they would learn to empty the things before bringing them out here; wood shreddings leak all over the place. On the television some pseudo-celebrity-Gassley, I think his name is-fades in surrounded by the large crimson-petaled flowers of the season. What are they called again? Grow in dark places and all that.
"Darla, honey, what do you call those things again?"
"What's that dear?" she asks, not entirely answering me.
"I said, what're those-"
"Quiet, quiet," little Darlene says. "They're starting already!"
Normally I'd give her 'what-for' if she interrupted me and I almost do, but then thinking of what is about to happen stops me. I should just let the holiday spirit take over, right? What's more is I can't remember if we all took our holiday vitamins.
"Greetings out there across the land, and welcome to our holiday special!" Gassley proclaims, his eyes boring into the camera. "I'm Edmund Gassley here to wish everyone A Very Gassley Holiday!" What's that supposed to mean? He looks out of place in that red outfit with the white cuffs and boots. "My oh my what a program we have in store for children of all ages to enjoy. As usual we'll be starting the holiday festivities right here nationwide on live telebroadcast, so I hope everyone is ready. But first let's turn our heads to the past to remind us just what it is that makes this season such a special time of year, all the wonderful memories that we'll always treasure in our hearts, and let us turn our heads to our loved ones to remind us of what we hold precious here in the present."