All That Remains
October 31, 2018 — Winner of the Scary Stories Contest
Author: Sarah Stevens
The night was going slow as usual. Tired and bored, I was resting my head on the desk and my partner is leaned back in his chair, hat over eyes and snoring. I’m not going to sleep. I lie to myself. I’m just blinking very slowly. Just as I am about to start stage one of the sleep cycle we get the call starling both of us awake. “Shit!”, Connor cries as he loses balance and falls over. I laugh hysterically. Eventually I calm down and answer the bleating phone. “Send someone to take a look please”, says the paranoid voice. It’s the manager at the power station. He had heard loud noises coming from outside and was experiencing fluctuations in the power. He was too scared to check it out himself, so he calls us to check it out. It is 12:03 am. There are a few officers here but not a lot as nothing ever happens in this small nowhere town. The power station was on the outskirts of the town nowhere near any houses, so no one is in any immediate danger. “Alright Connor! Mr. Tim at the power station needs us to have a look around, so let’s go”, I kick his boot. He huffs annoyed but finally gets of his ass and follows me to the car. “You wanna drive?”, he asks, hoping I say yes. “Nope. Thought I would leave that to you, speed racer”, I tease. He grumbles and starts the car. As we’re heading down the road I decide to strike up conversation. “You got my reference, right?”
“Hm?”
“Speed racer?”, I ask.
“Oh! Oh, yeah! I got that reference”, he answers. There’s more silence. “So”, I sigh. “What do yo- “, I manage to get out, but he cuts me off. “Why does he need us to check it out now if all times? I mean it’s 12 am”, he complains. “Dost mine ears deceive me? Or is there a whiny baby among us?”, I point out. “Fuck off”, he grumbles. I laugh. “So sensitive! You know I care about you”, I joke. It’s his turn to laugh and he shoves my hat down in front of my eyes. “Fuck you too pal!” He laughs even harder. By the time I lift my hat off my face he’s suddenly gone silent and pulls over to the side of the road. In quick movements he puts the car in park and hops out in the span of 5 seconds. “Connor! What’s wrong?”, I yell out to him, but he can’t hear me now. He stands in front of the car looking up dumbfounded. The front car lights shining bright on his yellow vest. “Shit”, I curse and practically stumble out of the car. I look at him and then I look up. “Oh my god”, I gasp. Tangled in the powerlines a massive charred human skeleton hangs inanimate. It’s as tall or taller than the towers linking the lines and it seems to be reaching out for something. “Connor”, I call him. No response. “Connor!”, I yell out and he jerks out of his daze. “What the hell is that?”, I run up to him. The fear in his expression is overwhelming. “I-I don’t know”, his voice shakes and barely above a whisper. My skin crawls at the sudden sound of creaking, bending metal. I slowly turn around to find it looking straight at us. “Oh my god”, it was no more than a shaky whisper. Its massive head rears up to the sky and it lets out a terrible cry before it snaps free from the cords. The amount of force it took to break free from the powerlines sent its massive body crashing to the ground in front of us. The impact threw us back, knocking the wind out of my chest. I groan and rub my jarred head, then open my eyes, coming face to face with the creature once more. Staring into its deep black sockets, the jaw hangs open and angled as if broken. A faint orangish yellow light begins to fill in the blank sockets and it makes a noise terrible and deep. Like a muffled t-rex but more metallic and guttural. I am paralyzed in fear, body locked in place as I seem to have already accepted my death by the hands of this monstrosity. Its right arm shatters as it tries to pick itself up, falling back to the ground with a quake. The eyes flicker for a moment upon impact. Its movements are slow and strained. It turns its head towards us, hanging jaw scraping the asphalt. Its attention is fixed on something, something left of me. I follow its gaze to find my unconscious partner. The lower half of his body landed on the grass while the upper half laid on the hard road. I snap back to the creature as it begins to unsheathe its remaining blackened arm. Dread sinks to the bottom of my gut like a stone in a river and the moment it hits the sand, I spring into action. I screech a panicked “No!” as I scramble to my feet, hand instinctively on my gun. Even though he is only a few feet away, it still feels like I can never get to him fast enough. My head is spinning with panic as I lung in front of him pulling my gun from its holster in the process. I fire once with blind aim and miss. The second shot I choose my target hitting it as it was too close to miss. The bullet strikes the reaching hand, penetrating the bottom bone of the palm and exiting through the slightly bent elbow. Like lightning through a tree, it splinters and crakes apart. It roars mightily once more before I unload the rest of my cartridge into its head. With at least five gapping holes in its head, it’s two glowing orbs fade into darkness once more. I stand there, silent and trembling as I still cannot fully comprehend what I have just witnessed. My legs are weak, and I have to take a step back to regain my balance but trip over the body of my partner. Strength anew, I scramble off of him and scout for any major or potentially fatal damage. He has a large bruising scrap taking up his entire cheek and some of his chin. He must have skid across the road. I gently pick up his head, checking for where other injury might be, and feel his wet sticky blood coat my fingers.
“Oh god—oh god, oh god, oh god.”
The wound is filled with pebbles and hair. I gulp my returning dinner and look for something to rest his head on, so I can grab the first aid kit in the car. Neither of our hats are close enough for me to reach so instead I tear off my yellow vest, roll it up, and gently place it under his head. I frantically search of the first aid for a few seconds too long finally finding it. Sprinting back to him, I roll up my sleeves and cautiously begin cleaning the gash. I need help. Oh god, I need help.
“Officer zzzt, we heard gunshots and are on our way. What is your status?”
My radio chimes statically from my belt.
“We have an officer down, get an ambulance here fast.” I list our situation and needs to the man on the other end. A thought flashes across my mind. What are they going to do when the see it?
“And get- “, I look up and freeze mid-sentence. It’s gone. The giant fucking skeleton is fucking gone.
“and get what?” the voice demands. I raise the radio up to my lips, not breaking my stare on the now empty road. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’ll explain what happened when you get here”, I say in a trance like tone and clip the radio back to my belt. All other phrases or efforts to gain my attention again are useless. The wheels turn slowly in my head as my faith in reality bleedingly declines. Within minutes, flashing blue and red light up all surfaces from behind me. A hand grabs my shoulder and shakes me violently.
“Hey—hey!”, my coworker shouts after pulling me to my feet. I slowly turn my head to meet her concerned stare. “What the hell happened?”, Alex says softly.
I look back to the road and shake my head. “I don’t really know.”
“What do you mean you don’t really know?” The agitation in her voice clear.
“I—I don’t—I don’t-,” I can’t seem to finish the sentence. Of course, I know what happened. I remember every panic filled second like it justhappened because it did just happen; and all I can say is ‘I don’t know’. She firmly grabs my arm and pulls me to the side as the paramedics tend to Connor.
“Listen, “she says, “right now we’ve got an officer down and a power station that looks like it was just hit by a tornado. You can either tell me while we’re here right now as your friend or you can tell me later under investigation for the assault of a police officer.”
That catches my attention. “You think I did this?”, I accuse angrily. “You think I would, hell, could do this?”
She holds her hands up innocently. “No! No, of course not. All I’m saying is you need to get your story straight right here, right now.”
I take a step back and look up at the devastated powerlines and road. I notice up-rooted patches of grass where my boots tore through the ground to for me to get between Connor and that thing. The whole scene plays through my mind over and over within the span of a couple of seconds.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
She observes me closely, quietly, patiently, before placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“Let’s get you to the hospital. We’ll get you checked out and meet Connor there. The other officers here can take over,” she explains. She thankfully has an expression of understanding but that soon changes. “But, you have to tell me everything in the car on the way there. I’m gonna be your friend for as long as I can but I can’t let that stop me from doing my job, understand?” Her grip tightens on my shoulder slightly.
I nod.
“Good. Get in the car and wait. I’ll meet you there”, she points to her cruiser and gives my shoulder one last squeeze before leaving me alone. I go and sit in the silent car, waiting, thinking. I know what she’s doing, and I understand it. Getting me completely alone and treating me as a good friend so that I feel comfortable enough to explain everything to her. She’s playing the good cop, and trying to help me not get the bad cop. What makes this so difficult is how on earth could I explain the truth, especially when I’m not even sure what the truth is. Well this giant fucking skeleton was tangled in the powerlines. It was big. It was loud. It sounded like a t-rex roaring through an old megaphone. What did I do? Oh, I shot it. Where is it? Beats me! Because that makes perfect sense. Within five minutes, she’s back and we’re on the road.
“So, start talking”
Fuck it.
I draw in a deep breath prepared to tell her everything, but I’m cut off.
“Hey Alex, we know you just left but you really need to get back here and see this”, a man’s voice from her radio says.
She snatches the speaker from her dash and puts it to her lips.
“What’s the problem, Pete?”
We wait for a response.
“Pete, what’s the problem?”, she asks again.
“I-it’s Mr. Tim…”
There is static for a moment before he finishes.
“…he’s dead.”
That familiar dread comes back like a wooden bat to the stomach. She swerves the car swift and smooth to the other direction before slamming on the gas pedal. I instinctively switch on the lights and siren, then pick up the radio to confirm our arrival. Mr. Tim! I forgot about Mr. Tim! How could I forget about Mr. Tim? Guilt crawls up my spine like a spider, spinning its cold cruel web over every branching nerve. I feel sick. Once we arrive, she turns to me and tells me to stay in the car. She jumps out and runs a few feet before shaking her head and running back to me, opening my door.
“Just come in with me. We may need you”, she says. We both run to the nearest door where we are met with another police officer who tells us where to go and met Peter. Once we are inside the station, it is completely dark, so we take out our flashlights and make our way down the hall.
“In here!”, he calls shaking his light through the open doorway. I run past Alex. Anxiety, guilt, panic all just pumping vigorously through my veins. “Wait!”, she calls after me. I practically skid almost missing the room but catch the doorway to stop me in my tracks. I compose and walk in with Alex. The first thing I notice is the smell. It is overwhelmingly putrid. It takes a good bit of me to not puke, much less gag. The lights are set up, pointed to the middle of the room, but whatever is there is being obstructed by a crouching officer. However, various splatters of blood covered everywhere the light touched, even going past that into the shadows. There is so much of it, and in the middle of it all is a bloody pile of human mush. Organs still intact. Skin almost completely whole, as if it had been peeled off. Alex has a hand to her mouth but has to run out of the room in order to avoid mixing her vomit into the evidence. I was close but need to know more. I talked to him just an hour ago.
“When did this happen?”, I ask.
“I don’t know, “he shakes his head, “It looks pretty fresh, so my guess is about an hour ago.”
I feel myself tensing up.
“What do you think caused it?”
“I don’t know that either but, and I know this sounds crazy, but it’s like he swallowed a bomb and it went off. But if that were the case, there wouldn’t be a pile of skin and bo—wait a second”, he pauses. “somethin’s missin’.”
I start shaking so hard I have to back up to the wall to hold myself up. It’s a piece to a puzzle I never wanted to put together.
“Where’s his bones?”
The Gluttons
October 31, 2018
Author: Chelsea Yates
Dave nervously bounced on the balls of his feet, wringing his hands together. He had to move to keep from staring at the door, waiting for someone who might not show. Craigslist provided almost no willing connoisseurs, though he was willing to pay more than enough. All they had to do was show up with an appetite, keep a lonely old man company, and eat their hearts out. America was known for being one of the most obese countries. To have only two guests, twin sisters, respond to his ad was unfathomable.
Dave scuttled across the kitchen floor tasting and sampling before turning the gravy, mushrooms, and garlic roasted potatoes on simmer. A large pot lay ready to boil the main course. He measured the parsley flakes, deciding he might need a few more for aesthetical purposes. He took out a small cutting board and a large knife, setting them aside for later. Then, Dave checked on the dining room table, making sure every plate and linen was in place beside a goblet of Cabernet Sauvignon.
Ready. Or as about as ready as could be.
The ringing toll of the old cuckoo clock broke through the silence. The walls were so thick; he couldn’t hear the outside world. Heavy drapes blocked his view of his tacky next door neighbors with their red and green Christmas lights strangling beer-gut Santa, front-yard rendition of baby Jesus in a manger with horned elves carrying around pitchforks, and plastic Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer strapped to the front end of their pick-up truck. It was unpleasant thinking of such things. More than once, he wished that the world could be as classy as he, but not everyone had money to throw about towards fine dining.
The clock read 7:05. Five minutes passed their meeting time.
Unlocking the door, Dave poked his head outside trying to make out the cars passing by his drive-way. Rain and the flickering red and green lights that greeted him, made searching for his guests impossible. The location of his house was a maze due to the winding roads and dense forest that surrounded those roads. The way markers designating directions and addresses were faded with time.
Dave receded back inside his home. He patted his head free of the rain droplets and continued to wait. Five minutes turned to ten and ten to twenty. Soon an hour had elapsed.
As he was getting ready to put the food away, a slight knock resounded on his front door. He thought he was imagining things at first, but the knock sounded again, this time louder.
Opening the door revealed the twins, leaning against each other in their matching sheer white dresses. They looked like wide-eyed doe, complete with the natural beauty of their appearance. Naked without make-up and clinging to the other as if they knew they stood before a full-blooded predator and were not just trying to leech the other’s warmth. He had to train his gaze from roving over their pale forms which the rain had adequately exposed.
One held up her high-heeled shoes as a barrier against him, “I apologize if we’re late. We were using Google Maps, but I guess you don’t have reception out here.” As if now noticing her bare feet she said, “High-heels are like a slip n’ slide from hell, at least in this rain.”
Taking that as his cue, Dave motioned for them to come inside, “It’s no problem. You know what people say, anticipation makes the wait worthwhile and that much sweeter.”
“I’m sure it does,” The other sister stepped past him, cold lips pressing against his cheek in greeting. Faint perfume surrounded the places where she touched, the scent something far more primal than what he would associate her with.
Plops of water dripped from them both onto the wooden floors. He didn’t offer them a towel, but they seemed to take that in stride. Each set their shoes by the door, softening their steps. When they weren’t looking, content to gaze at the museum-like nature of his home: display cases chocked full with wizened artifacts and cook books stacked neatly in shelves, Dave lowered the thermostat.
Twin one latched on to her sister’s wrist with her free hand almost like they were conjoined together. One didn’t stray far from the other’s shadow. Dave even thought that they might have matching names to go along with their bond such as Abigail and Analyssa, Bailee and Kaylee, or Madison and Madeline. They might have mentioned them during their numerous email correspondences, but he forgot. Their names didn’t matter.
“You’re both looking delectable. I must admit I am glad you two responded to my ad. I have been becoming more and more curious about the subject lately because I pride myself on being an aficionado of diverse palettes. So, shall we partake in this new experience together?” Dave’s rallying speech ended with his fist in the air.
The twins shared a mysterious smile. Their teeth glinted in the dim atmosphere.
Dave tugged at the collar on his shirt, “Pain is a relative thing. The beauty of pain is that with the right motive, it can be pleasurable. I’ll get the tools, so we can begin.”
While he gathered the bottle of saline solution, bandages, and the knife, he couldn’t help, but hear the sisters’ discussion. The youngest, of course, was having doubts. The oldest promised the transition would be liberating. Those words struck him as odd.
At once, Dave thought her to be a vegetarian. He didn’t know if there were some signs to tell if someone was vegetarian. She didn’t look like a tie-dye wearing hippie nor was she sickly pale. He overheard that they hailed from the quaint town of Leavenworth, Washington and needed the money for their ailing mother’s butcher shop. How could someone who ate salads everyday come from a mother who ran a meat driven business?
Dave cleared his throat, “Everything’s ready. I just need-”
“The main course?”
“To start with.”
The oldest laughed, but Dave didn’t know what was so funny. She leaned closer to him, tilting her head up until they were eye level. Black orbs bored into his, a profound oubliette fringed by little dark spikes. Her silken voice wrapped around him, cutting off his air supply. “The honor should go to us, shouldn’t it?”
He felt caught. “Are you sure? I used to be a chef. I pride myself in my knife skills.”
White-knuckled hands gripped the knife tighter.
“What’s there to be frightened of, Dave? You wanted this, didn’t you? You still do. So, why don’t we help you? It’s our bodies. Don’t we get a choice?”
“Sister-.”
Dave’s gaze flickered over to the other girl. His fingers slackened on the knife. He could barely make out that she was shaking her head no. The twin’s voice pervaded his mind, what was he afraid of? Neither of the girls needed all of their fingers. One pinky wouldn’t be missed. A soft slab of thigh could be patched over. And they would be compensated. Dave didn’t even have to dirty his hands. She would do it for him, so what was he afraid of?
Not. A. Damn. Thing.
Ms. Teeny Tiny over there wouldn’t cow him. She trembled at him, at what he was making her do with a little money thrown her way. He leered as she seemed to shrink from his mind.
The oldest brushed her hand along the outstretched handle of the knife before taking it. “It’s raining and I believe our good man is hungry. He’s got an appetite for flesh.”
“I’ve never tried it, but I thought you girls were vegetarian?” Dave could have sworn they said something about being vegetarian.
One of the twins laughed, the sound jarring as she ran her tongue along too white teeth. He couldn’t keep track of them anymore and his eyes flitted between the two. Lurking, prying, and approaching. He didn’t know whether to reprimand one for trailing her oil smudged hands along his display cases or circumvent the advances of the other. The knife dangling at her side tapped her thigh like some shiny fashion accessory she couldn’t wait to show off. Girls like her always did take their time when it came to things such as getting ready and helping out in the kitchen with the finger food.
Dave just wanted to know if he needed to clear away their table placements. He didn’t cook anything or wasn’t planning on cooking anything for salad eaters and thought it would be weird if they were staring at him all the way through his meal. Bad manners too if he threw them out once pieces of them were chopped off and served.
He felt something wet touch his cheek. The sandpaper roughness left a sticky trail of saliva. Dave jerked back, feet catching on the rug. On his way down, he saw her wide lips stretch out into a guileless grin and felt her moist imprint leeching away his every thought. His head hit the wall’s sharp corner with a resounding thunk and he blacked out.
Dave could not recount how long he was out for; just that he needed a Tylenol and a reminder not to fall asleep in the bath. The water enveloping him had already chilled; yet, a warmth felt like it had been building up over goosebumped, damp skin. His chest moved with every stroke of that heat. His limbs felt leaden, devoid of feeling. Couldn’t even raise a hand if he wanted to, but his inability to move didn’t stir up any feelings that something was not right.
The slurping noise around his torso didn’t quite sound like a drain nor did water feel like smooth liquid. Dave had the sense that he was in his bath, but the substance surrounding him was warm and had a greater viscosity than water. The liquid congealed on his skin as if it were heated syrup with a strange metallic scent. Dave’s heavy eyelids opened, blinking slowly, at first to will the black spots from his vision. Even then, he had to squint to make out if what he was seeing was real.
Two hulking forms crouched over his prone body. A body gutted of reds. His stomach laid open before them. Dave bit back a giggle at the thought that he resembled a stuffed turkey with his stuffing spilling out around him. Who would clean up the mess, he thought. Then, realized they seemed to be doing a good job of lapping up the juices.
Their sheer dresses soaked up the red, ruby mouths puckered to suck him dry and for a while Dave was a voyeur to their conquest. He watched their carnal movements with a startling anticipation. Where would they go next? What part of him would they devour with their greedy, little love bites? Numbness was replaced with euphoria.
It was eat or be eaten and Dave yearned to let loose his humanity.
It Was The Monkeys That Did It
October 31, 2018
Author: Harrison Neville
It was the Monkeys that did it.
Swinging from the trees they destroyed our front line
In addition they wrecked the men’s spirit
One moment a line strong and sturdy
Warriors bold and shields locked
So noble confident in their arms, ready
Then the Monkeys came
Howling
Shrieking
They swung from the trees
Before them stood the army of the North
10000 strong the last great alliance of men
For a moment the Monkeys paused—a moment of worth
Then the Monkeys came
And
It all went to–
They threw their–
Shit! Splattering against shields
And helmets and clogging nostrils and
Sticking in eyes and stinking up the air
And then they were upon us their
Furry little bodies writhing about in
Immeasurable numbers slashing and tearing
Heedless of the carnage all around them
Soldiers tripped over corpses the
Ground became slick with blood and bile
And gore and Shit! the Monkeys
Still fought on.
And the line
Broke
And then with our front line broken
And our ranks in confusion and disarray
The very gates of hell themselves must
Have opened and spat out of its maw
All the worst nightmares it had within
Things so detestable even the pit dwellers
Resented their incursion upon their home
From the trees they poured out
Horrid green goblins riding giant
Boars with curved tusk and winged
Trolls with massive battle axes
Creatures of shadow with eyes as
Cold as ice completely devoid of any
Life or light Ahh what terrors they were
Then I saw him
That maleficent figure the Dreadlord upon his
Steed the beast was a true child of the pit
Its fangs flashed in the faint flickering light
That filtered down through the leaves
Its scales shone like tempered steel and the
Eyes that peered out from beneath its
Heavy reptilian lids were like smoldering
Coals Yet the beast was nothing when
Compared to its rider
No whimsical light touched his dark armor
He was a void
An abyss of darkness from which every nightmare spawned
And broke the barriers of sleep into the waking world
Beside him rode death his bride an
Apparition riding atop the most evil of nags
Surely that beast was the offspring of the
Unholy union between Satan and his
Prize stallion Each step that the
Accursed creature took left behind a
Wake of death and decay and rot and
As for its lady she was an enigma
Cloaked in fog and shrouded in mist
Yet it was not these hellish beings and
Their underlings that ensured our doom
These we came prepared to fight No
It was the Monkeys that did it
Bold Stephen carried the blade of Trieth
The mighty sword destined to slay our great foe
But the blade did him no good how could it when
The Monkeys scratched out his eyes so that he
Never saw his own doom approaching
Gurlain the great rushed to save him but
Slipped on Shit! and fell on his back trapped
Beneath the weight of his axe and was
Unceremoniously crushed beneath a giants foot
Myself I never abandoned hope not even when
Lorrenzo my best friend first fell
Merely stunned he struck the ground and I reached
Out a hand to help when a creature like a wolf but
With jaws so large it more closely resembled a venus flytrap
Swallowed him leaving me holding nothing but a
Ragged stump of his hand
Then I broke
I fled the battle still clutching the hand of my best
Friend ignoring the doomed cries of the dying
Now as I sit alone in my dark cave waiting for the
End of the world to come with no one for company
Except a single skeletal hand completely
Picked free of flesh and I hear the sound of the
Primates laughing in the trees I curse them soundly
Because I know that it was those damned Monkeys that did it
Halloween Spirit
October 31, 2018
Author: Lateshia Tucker
All alone on October 31, Halloween is finally here. The fog is very thick, the sky was filled with white clouds and a big white moon. I was home alone with nothing to do but watch scary movies. I fell asleep, only to be awakened to see a spirit vision which looked much like a friend that was mumbling words that I could not understand. I could only see the spirit from the neck up. This frightened me so bad that I left my house and went to stay at my cousin’s house. The next morning I went to work thinking that it was all a bad dream, only to have my mom and a friend greet me at lunchtime to give me the bad news. The police had found one of my best friends shot in the head and burning alive, abandoned on a dirt road. I could barely feel my legs as chills roared through my body. All I could think of was that his spirit had come for help and I wasn’t there to help him. Now, every Halloween, I’m always with a crowd and make sure that I don’t fall asleep because I’m afraid that his spirit will come every Halloween to haunt me because I wasn’t there.