Archive for June, 2013

Results 5

June 26, 2013 Leave a comment

Jane slapped her hand over her mouth to keep the French fries from falling out as she was laughing. Doing her best to keep Brian from seeing the food in her mouth as he glanced over at her while waving his cheeseburger in the air between them.

“That was when the guy says, ‘Shouldn’t you be watching the road?'”

“You are so full of shit.”

“I am not. That is exactly what happened and it was in this cab.”

Jane rocked back against the seat, wiping tears from her eyes with the back of one hand while holding a half full sack of fries in the other. She smiled at Brian as he took a massive bite out of his cheeseburger and tried to chew with his mouth shut.

He failed, but he tried.

Jane loved this. Brian was funny and nice. He flirted just a little but nothing he had said was even close to being rude. He was listening to her and paying attention. The night had gone from horrible to great. If things had been just a little different, this would have been the best date she had ever been on.

If they went to a bar and had a few drinks, she might have even been able to forget that she was wearing stolen clothes after washing off a bucket of blood a few hours ago.

He knew his business. They had been driving around for hours and not one person had hailed the cab. Brian answered a few calls, but each time, one or two people had jumped into the back and Jane got to stay for the trip.

“Training a new cabbie,” he would say if they asked about her. She liked that idea, she could drive and his stories made it seem like this could be a lot of fun.

When the radio squawked, she prayed that the next group wouldn’t be big, or at least not big enough to force her out of the cab. Out into the rain and away from Brian.

He picked up the receiver and said he would take the call with a look of disgust painted across his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“This pick up is at a gay bar.”

Jane grinned at him as she reached into the bag for another fry. “They say homophobia is a sign of repressed sexual desires.”

The cabbie turned green and curled his lip up. “There isn’t any repression. I have driven drunken homos before and some of those stories are fucking disgusting.”

“Enough said.”

Now he grinned, an evil, twisted and scary grin that would have had her looking for an escape route if she hadn’t been talking to him as long as she had. “Oh no little missy. You don’t get to question my manliness without enjoying the story of the drunk fat homos in this cab about two years ago.”

She groaned as he started talking.

Categories: Horror, serial, Were

Results 4

June 19, 2013 Leave a comment

When a set of those annoying blue tinted headlights turned onto the street, Jane jumped into the bushes beside the sidewalk. She fought down the fear of being spotted and waited until it turned again before leaving her cover and walking down the street, listened to the sharp clicks of the heels she had selected.

Once she had come to and pulled herself together from the shock of seeing a reflection covered in blood, she had jumped into the shower and done her best to wash away the evidence. She had been forced to cut her own hair into a pixie like bod to get rid of the clotted mats on the ends and had clogged the tub in the process. When she left the bathroom, she had also left a dark pool of red water waiting to be found.

Dumb luck had gotten her fresh cloths. The teenage daughter was the same size, although a lot shorter, so Jane had rummaged through her closet until she found something that would not look childish or stupid on her middle aged frame.

The mother had worn the same size shoe, so her only real problem was in finding something that didn’t clash. The mother must have been at least a little bit of a trophy wife because the only flats she had found were a set of fuzzy house slippers. Heels were uncomfortable and in Jane’s neighborhood, it paid to be able to run away. She had worn heels like this back in her stripping days, but that was a while ago.

What now walked out of the suburban hell that Jane imagined this place would turn into was a middle aged woman with a ragged haircut, black high heels that were not made for walking, wearing a bubble gum, perky goth cheerleader dress that was a bit too short for the weather which might have been part of a Halloween costume but at least it was not covered in a cartoon logo.

She wondered if the minivan was the family getting home from dinner after the game. She wondered if they might report her in their cloths.

She wondered what they would think of all the blood.

The air was cooling off, a breeze picking up and blowing around her bare thighs. Something made her sniff the air, and Jane knew that there was a storm coming. She had never been one to pay attention to the weather before, but tonight she knew that she didn’t have long to find a place to be if she didn’t want to get wet.


In the waist band of the only decent panties the girl had in her drawer was tucked the twelve dollars that Jane had found in the house. It wouldn’t be enough to get her a cab, but if she could find a bus stop, then she figured she should be able to get home.

But she hadn’t seen a bus stop yet. Her feet were killing her and she knew she was going to have blisters.   She stopped at a street sign, resting one hand on it and checking her foot, when the first fat rain drop hit the pavement beside her.


The next one landed on her bare shoulder, the water was cold and it sent a shiver down her spine. As she turned to look around for a place to go, a cab pulled up beside her.

“You need a ride?”

When Jane peered into the cab, she was met with a thin, smiling face, covered in freckles. Bright green eyes looked out from under a shaggy mop of ginger hair and on reflex she smiled back. “No, I don’t have fare.”

“It’s starting to rain. Get in.”

Jane grabbed the handle, but the back door was locked. The voice from the cab said, “Up here and we can talk about it.”

She cursed under her breath as the rain started to pick up. She could only guess what the cabbie wanted, and it wasn’t like this would be a first for her, but why tonight. Jane started to back away from the door, figuring that wet and cold was better than whoring for a ride, but when the first few pieces of hail came down, she jumped into the front seat.

“So where are you headed this miserable evening?”

“River and Morgan.”

The cabbie whistled. “There isn’t a River Street in Carlstown.”

Jane’s eyes bugged out and she swore under her breath. Now the lack of bus stops made sense. “No, that is in Briarwood.”

“Oh honey, you need to head to the bus station. That is still on the other side of town from here and I know the buses won’t start running until morning.”

Staring at her hands while twisting her fingers together, Jane tried to consider her options. She was in another town, an hour or more away from home. She didn’t have enough money for a cab to the bus station and the bus ticket, not to mention food.

When she looked up at the ginger cabbie, Jane licked her lips and tried to sound sultry. “Is there anything you can do to help a girl out?”

He smiled, a big, genuine smile that lit his face up. “Yeah, probably.” The guy chewed on his lip with teeth that were stained from cigarettes as he looked her up and down before sighing and frowning.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to be a dick and I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, I really want to take advantage of you, but I can’t.”

Jane’s stomach clenched up as she saw her chance explode. He was having a moment of conscience, and it was going to back fire. He didn’t need to have conscience, she could do this. She reached out, and put her hand on his leg, but before she could start to rub his thigh, the cabbie put his hand over the top of hers.

“I want to offer you a deal. You willing to listen?”

She nodded, trying to hide her excitement.

“I don’t think I am going to have very many clients tonight, so here is what we can do. You ride with me tonight. Keep me company and talk to me. If I get a full cab and need the front, you have to get out at whatever stop it is. If you are still with me at the end of shift, I will take you to the bus station.”

“That’s all you want?”

“No,” he said with a tone of voice that made it sound like a stupid comment. “I would rather offer to take you to the bus stop in exchange for sex, but it isn’t right for me to take advantage of a lady stuck out in a storm.”

Jane smiled a real, happy, full face smile. It wasn’t something that she did all that often. There were not very many occasions for that kind of smile in her life. “I would be happy to keep you company and ride along. Thank you.”

The cabbie nodded and raised his hand. “I’m Brian.”


They shook, he looked her up and down one more time, letting out a sigh before turning away and pulling out into traffic. “Seat belt there Jane.”


The techno music was blaring, giving Carl a headache that thumped along with the bass. He kept his eyes away from the flashing lights, knowing that if he focused on them, he might wake up on the floor after a seizure.

The bar was a riot of colors that made him think of the psychedelic seventies. Men of all shapes and sizes were talking, drinking, flirting and rubbing on each other and it made him sick.

The man beside him at the bar was staring out at the floor with a look on his face that reminded Carl of a cat about to pounce on a mouse. The guy was hunting, looking for sex in an urban jungle that reeked of cologne and spilt booze.


The guy turned to Carl, gave him a once over, then smirked and said, “Oh honey, I am so out of your league,” before heading out to the dance floor with a wiggle in his step.

“That guy is kind of a dick.”

Carl turned to his left and found a blonde boy sipping a red drink through a pair of tiny stir straws. “Excuse me?”

“I said that guy is a dick. He thinks that because he is pretty he can be an ass to everyone.”

“A lot of people are like that.”

“Yeah, but not all of them have a tiny dick.”

Carl felt his dinner rise up in his throat a bit but fought the urge down while trying to smile. Once he was in control he extended his hand to the boy in the tight tank top. “My name is Carl.”


Carl nodded towards the booths that lined the wall. “You want to go back there so we can talk without yelling?”

Jack looked Carl up and down, the same appraising look that the other guy had given him but when he met his eyes again Jack smiled. “Maybe, what are you looking for?”

Carl forced a pained grin onto his face. “A bottom for the rest of the night.”

Jack’s eyes lit up. “You are talking to the tightest bottom around here sweetie.”

“No,” he said under his breath. “I am talking to test subject number twelve.” Carl nodded toward the booth and Jack downed his drink before heading that way. Carl tapped the glass and the bartender sat another one down beside Carl’s orange juice.

Jack was almost dancing where he was sitting as Carl walked toward him, the pill already in the glass.


Categories: Horror, serial, Were

Results 3

June 12, 2013 3 comments

Her eyes started to crack open as Jane came too. There was not much light where she was, but it was still enough to send sharp pains into her foggy brain. She forced the lids closed, trying not to squeeze them shut since that would so often make the headache worse. Instead, she concentrated on breathing without vomiting.

Whatever she was laying on was hard and rough. She was sure it wasn’t carpet or asphalt. It didn’t feel or smell right and when you drink as much and as often as Jane did, you knew what waking up on the floor or the street was like. She had no idea where she was but she was pretty sure of where she wasn’t.

She was naked. Whatever she was lying on was cool against her hip and breasts. The arm her head was resting on was tingling from a lack of circulation, so she took her time and shifted until she was on her back. Her stomach wasn’t being all that difficult, so she rubbed her thighs together and gave a little thank you to the heavens that they weren’t sticky. There was no way she had the money for a morning after pill, if she had any money left at all. Not to mention how uncomfortable it was to have last night’s fun running down your leg while you stood waiting for the bus.

Although she hated the idea of doing it, she had to get up. Her bladder was making itself known and while she was sure she could wait, she figured she should get out of here before whatever new boyfriend she had walked back into the room horny again. So, she brought one hand up over her eyes and opened them behind the safety of her palm.

Why did her skin feel sticky? Had someone just sprayed her face? It was still better than needing a pill to deal with the sticky thighs.

Letting the light in a little at a time kept the throbbing in her head from going up the Richter scale. Her eyes adjusted and after a minute, she could see just fine.

Looking around told her she was lying on a floor in a house that was still under construction. The reason she wasn’t passed out on the rug was because nobody had put one down yet. The amount of light coming in through the window made her think it was very early. The sun was not high enough to be seen yet but there was a bunch of pretty colors, orange, yellow and light blue, in the few wisps of cloud that Jane could see beside the sticker on the glass.

It took a few minutes, but Jane managed to sit up and run her fingers through her hair. It was matted and sticking together, which meant that there might have been more than one last night.

This morning was getting better by the moment.

She stood, swayed, found her balance and then looked for her clothes, when she had no luck finding them or her purse the search was abandoned. Jane walked to the window.

At a finished home across from her, a man wearing a baseball jersey was helping a boy in the same uniform put his stuff into the trunk. A woman walked out of the house, arguing with a teenage girl who looked like she was ignoring her mother just to piss her off. They didn’t look like they were just starting their day; it looked like they were going to an evening game. “Have I been passed out in this place all day?”

The car was backed into the drive. Once the family was all loaded up, the lights kicked on and managed to throw a reflection of Jane onto the window. She saw herself looking like she had stuck her finger in a light socket before rolling in red paint. She only had a second, but it was enough to leave her cold and clammy.

It looked like blood.

How had she gotten covered in blood?

Jane was having trouble breathing. She felt the room spin and put her hands on the window. Now that she looked closer at her hands, she could see little dark spots all over her skin. She was covered in blood.

After the car turned around the corner, Jane took off. She tore through the house, ripped the front door open to charge across the street. With no thought at all for the neighbors or possible security, she picked up a rock that was sitting on the porch and smashed the window beside the door. A few seconds and a loud crash later, the door was open and a pair of dirty feet darted up the stairs, hoping to find a bathroom.

As the vagrant woman darted through the quiet house of a middle class family of four, the community remained oblivious. No scream shook the neighborhood and no cussing fit scared the ears of the stuffed animals the children still owned. When Jane found the bathroom, when she looked into the mirror at a pair of terrified brown eyes, framed by more wrinkles than a woman of her age should have, and saw the blood. She saw that it looked like her hair and forehead had been painted red with a brush.

Jane saw a woman who looked like a serial killer in a movie, she vomited all over the sink and then she fainted.

Results – Part 2

June 5, 2013 2 comments

Mark pulled up and grabbed his tablet. According to the days roster, this was the last house he was supposed to power up, which was a damned good thing because he was ready to head home, grab a beer, flop down on the couch and drink it while Maria gave him head.

“Working on your birthday sucks shit through a straw,” he said to himself as he grabbed his tool belt. Mark hung the heavy collection of screwdrivers, pliers and wrenches on his shoulder before picking up the stupid white hard hat that OSHA insisted he wear. “Not calling in sick today had better be fucking worth it when I get home.”

He looked around the neighborhood. It was one of those new, yuppie housing additions that were springing up on the outskirts of so many towns. Each home looked different on the outside, but to his construction eye, he realized that the internal layout was almost identical. Cookie cutter homes with different frosting on each one.

Mark walked up the drive, thinking about the little Hispanic woman who had convinced him to work today. “You save your PTO for when you need it for sick,” she had said. “I make you happy you save it when you get home, Gringo.” Her accent, when she wanted to be sexy, stretched out the last word, rolling the r as she batted her eyes at him.

He was so whipped.

He headed around the house to the meter, stepping on a mixture of scraggly grass, weeds and bare dirt where the landscapers hadn’t been called in yet. He was still thinking of Maria. Short and petite, he liked to think of her as spicy, like good fresh salsa. His special treat from south of the border.

“I am going to do so many things to you tonight,” he said as he flipped the latch and opened the service box. “I think I might just introduce you to anOWWW. Fuck!” He jumped backward, pinching his finger and thumb where he cut his hand on the box. “God Dammit!”

Mark shook his hand, looking at the blood dripping from his finger, when a cold chill raced up his spine. Goose-flesh crawled over his body like small blacks ants that had just found where you spilled syrup on the counter. He looked behind him, heart speeding up as something deep inside made him want to run away.

Nothing was there. He was standing outside of a half built box for some dumb ass to live in and nobody was there. Mark took a deep breath, sucked on his finger for a second, and then turned back to the box. “Yeah, she is gonna get it tonight. Save my PTO my fucking ass.”

He didn’t waste any time on the box. Doing his best to make the external connections and lock everything back up as fast as he could. The feeling that he was being watched was driving him crazy and Mark turned around repeatedly to look back over his shoulder. “Fucking place gives me the creeps.”

Standing in front of the house, Mark had to swallow down a lump of anxiety that was building up. He knew the internal box was in the basement. He had done this twice today and three or four times a day for the last couple of weeks. Standard job, standard tools, nothing to speak of and boring compared to some of the projects he had worked on. But for some reason, he was having trouble walking into this house. It wasn’t finished. There wasn’t anyone there and there wasn’t going to be for months.

One big, deep breath and he ground his teeth together and stomped through the garage. Mark would never admit it, but he was clomping and banging things on his way in so that if someone was here, they would know where he was and have a chance to get out.

His big flashlight and the head lamp on his hard hat led him down the stairs. The basement was clean and empty, just like it should have been. He walked over to the box and started checking the connections.

The creak of the floor boards above him made him jump. It wasn’t settling; brand new houses didn’t do that. Which mean someone big was walking around up stairs. Mark held his hammer and his breath as he waited. Another creak came from the floor, followed by another. Whoever was up there was moving slow, maybe to try to sneak up on him despite their obvious weight, but the house was giving them away.

“If you aren’t from the construction company you’re trespassing.”

There was no answer or creak from above. Mark stood with his back to the wall, breathing heavy and sweating, afraid that the feeling of being watched had been because of whatever was in the house. He wasn’t a small man, but Mark had never been a fighter. He did not like trouble and did his best to avoid it his whole life. All he wanted was for the guy upstairs to go away.

The next creak was loud, and it came from both the floor above him and down the stairs. Whoever this was, they were standing at the top of the stairs.

“Get out of here or I will call the cops!”

Mark trained his flashlight at the top of the stairs. He hoped that the light would make his stalker think twice about coming down to get him.

What the light did was let him see the massive paw that came to rest on the steps.

“Oh fuck.”

Mark hated dogs, and that paw was huge. As the next one came down, he realized that he had nowhere to go if some rabid, Cujo looking monster came into the basement with him.

“Get out of here!” He hurled one of his wrenches at the stairs, bouncing the drop cast tool against the concrete wall just below the lead foot.

Mark pulled a screwdriver to throw, but it fell from his hand as the beast came further into view.

The mass that came down the stairs stared at him with bright, yellow eyes. It looked like some kind of giant cat although he had never seen anything like it on the nature channel, slinking down the stairs without taking its eyes off of him.

When it reached the bottom of the stairs it crouched there, not moving, just staring at the man. Mark watched the muscles shift and move below the thick, brown fur as it settled itself. The only place to see a cat this big should have been in a zoo.

“Nice kitty?”

The tip of its tail began to twitch, just like his sister’s cats had done when they were about to pounce on those stupid jingling balls that she had always bought for them.

Mark pulled his hammer off of his tool belt. “Get out of here.”

When the thing made a sound, it let out a cross between a dog’s howl and a cat screeching in pain. It was loud, louder than Mark’s yelling had been, and Mark pissed his pants as he dropped his light and hammer to cover his ears.

The light bounced off the basement floor, its beam shooting around as it settled down and began to rock. The shadows jumped and moved with it, until everything came to rest. The white light of the bulb reflected a bit of blue off the new concrete wall, but a lot of red off the puddle spreading out on the floor beneath it.

Categories: Flash Fiction, Horror, Were