Mischiefmakers: Dark Macabre Read online

  “For all you folks wondering where in the heck all this weather came from, well, I’m here to tell you, we don’t know either. According to local and national meteorologists, this weather front seemed to appear out of nowhere. To make matters worse, they think this is some sort of chain reaction due to the deterioration of the ozone. People are calling this the Black Weekend because of that funny dark-colored rain. I don’t know exactly what to call it, folks, but I do know we have winds gusting over 50 miles an hour, and the downpour of rain hasn’t let up since Friday. I have just been told there are some isolated hailstorms in the area. Police advise everyone to stay indoors today, until this unexpected weather passes. One last thing before I begin our Power Hour of the top ten singles: I would appreciate if all the religious freaks who think this is some sort of sign that this is the end of the world would call some other radio station. I have been getting calls all day from people thinking this is some sort of sign from God. I seriously doubt it, folks. This is just plain ole bad weather. Now, let’s kick off the Power Hour.”

  “You don’t know how wrong you are,” Father Johns says qui- etly to himself as he sees a taxi coming in his direction. He lifts himself from the wall to hail the checkered car.

  3

  Within the house, Melissa lies on the cold wooden floor of the attic. She opens her eyes slowly, only to be slightly blinded by a multitude of brightly lit candles that decorate the room. The attic is muggy and filled with a nauseating, foul stench. It is swarmed with shadows as the candle lights dance upon the wooden beams and walls.

  Her migraine still rages through her skull, yet the pain is not as intense as before.

  The heavy downpour pounds the roof as the bright lightning bolts streak through the room.

  Wiping her face, she rises slowly to a more comfortable position. Gazing around the room, she finds it difficult to see into the darkened corners.

  Melissa becomes agitated as she remembers what occurred earlier that morning.

  Morgan! His eyes! I have to find a way out!

  Looking around once more, she stands. Melissa walks toward a darkened corner and sees what she believes to be a doorknob. She grasps it and turns slowly. Opening the door, a green glow reaches out, striking her in the eyes. With the glow comes a stench that forces her to step backward. As her eyes adjust, she spots a spiral- ing cloud of mist from which the witchy green originates. It spins like the interior of a tornado. Squinting, Melissa peers into the bright light, noticing something dangling against the wall: three nude bodies stored in clear plastic. Their faces are clearly visible, their expressions wide and terror-stricken. One is an elderly man, the other an elderly woman, the last a young man. Tears form in her eyes. Her heart pounds with panic. She quickly recognizes the young naked man is Morgan. Melissa slams the door quickly and backs toward the center of the room. Her body weary and head ravaged with pain, she clenches her fists and screams into the darkness.

  “I know you are here, show yourself! I know you are after my baby!”

  Suddenly a voice responds.

  “You are right...princess, I am after the baby.” Behind one of the dancing shadows, a lone pair of witchy green eyes peers at Melissa. She continues to fight her agonizing migraine, while step- ping away from the fiery gaze. “But not just me.” A piercing, white light flashes through the darkness. A figure stands just above one of the candles, exposing itself. Breaking its moment of silence, an old, scratchy voice emerges.

  “Don’t forget about me, Miss Shelton.” Mr. Nicholas stands there, smiling arrogantly. Without warning, the white light emerges once more, engulfing Mr. Nicholas. A monstrous figure evolves. “And me,” the deep voice speaks. The beast is massive, its body a glistening bloody suit of lizard skin. Thin dangerously sharp quills extend from its head, accenting its vampire fangs. “You don’t know me, but Sarah and I met right before I ripped her throat from her neck. She was a pure treat.” Melissa stands gaping at this spectacle. The blinding light appears once again, molding another shape. The shadowy figure steps from behind the candle and exposes itself. It’s Morgan. He stands silent for a moment.

  “Yes, it’s been me all the time,” Morgan says, his face melting like heated wax. His body is engulfed within the blinding white light. The metamorphosis takes only a few seconds, and a tall, thin man, eyes radiating that devilish green, stares arrogantly at her.

  “Why me, Harry?” Melissa asks.

  “I’m sorry, princess, you are vulnerable, weak. Your own anger toward your God has allowed this to happen.” His voice becomes cold and powerful. “You should be thanking me. I have given you eternal life to replace this pathetic existence. I have immortalized you!”

  Melissa falls to her knees, cupping her belly with one hand and gripping her head with the other. Her voice, weak and feeble, squeaks from under her breath.

  “Why Morgan and his family? Did you have to kill him?”

  “Morgan was useless! We saved his life in that fire. We offered him a new beginning. We offered him greatness once darkness emerges and envelops the earth. We allowed him to be your guardian until he almost allowed you to kill yourself, the day you realized you were pregnant. I had to wring his human neck and take over his duties. And his grandparents were old anyway...we just saved them time.”

  “What is this I’m carrying inside me?”

  “This child is something that is beyond your comprehension. You’re carrying a god! It does not belong to either of us. This baby belongs to the one who conceived with you, it was Satan! I served as an empty shell so that he was able to possess me and create his child. We are the guardians of the child. We are the lost souls of Asylum. We are the mischiefmakers, the unwanted souls who are destined to live only in your nightmares, to dwell in the

  credit to: Queen_of_spells darkness without a kingdom. We will no longer starve for love, we shall now feed on a feast of ecstasy...of human flesh. We are forced to hide in the dimensions of the abyss. But that will change. Feel your belly. I know you can feel its power. Allow the change to happen, stop resisting. I can take away your pain, Melissa, I can ease your struggle! Allow the child to take control!”

  “No!” Melissa bursts into tears.

  “It is not your choice!”

  Suddenly Melissa’s eyes glow with an evil intensity, her face

  pulsates, her nose begins to trickle drops of blood. The demon within her emerges. “She continues to resist me.” The demon peers at an open window. “He has come once again. Once he enters our domain, he will be powerless. He must die. Bring me his heart!” says the demon within Melissa.

  “Yes, I can smell him.” Harry lifts his nose in the air and sniffs like a bloodhound. He collapses to the floor as his body melts and reforms into the black raven. Suddenly the raven multiplies into many. Soon there are a dozen black ravens scouring the wooden attic floor. With their massive wings, they whisk into the air, disap- pearing through open windows.

  Melissa’s eyes pulsate frantically, battling the witchy green glow. “Why do you resist me?!” asks the demon from within. “You are not my child! You are not real!”

  “You killed your child! Do you remember that! You killed her!”

  the demon roars.

  “Her?” Melissa screams as she is forced into another demented

  dream.

  Melissa finds herself in an unfamiliar place. This new place is

  pitch-black with an arctic wind. Unseen raindrops echo throughout, accompanying the whistling breeze. The ground is cold, and

  the air stinks of mildew. Melissa stands motionless, wearing her

  thin nightgown. She begins to shiver.

  “You owe me, Mother!” A small child’s voice echoes through

  the vast darkness. In front of Melissa stands the little girl once

  more. The child is wearing a light pink dress as if she is about to

  attend Easter Sunday service. Her hair, black and lustrous, is deco-

  rated with pleasant pink and white bows. Me
lissa gazes at the girl,

  then speaks.

  “What do you want from me?!” Her voice is stressed and

  slightly hoarse.

  “You must pay for killing me, Mother! You owe me!” “Who are you?”

  The child smiles, then speaks with a sinister grin,

  “You don’t recognize me, Mother. Do I not have my father’s

  eyes? Do I not have his golden skin? You do remember my father,

  don’t you? Maybe I can help refresh your memory.” The child’s

  grin widens as she spins slowly, playing a hateful game. “La, La,

  La, Da, Da, Da, Damon Lewis, remember that name, Mother?”

  The child takes a moment to bathe in the guilt that overwhelms Melissa. “Oh, that’s right, now what is it that you told Sarah? Rev- erend Hobbs was the father! We both know that is not true, don’t

  we?”

  Melissa’s eyes shut as another scene from her past begins to

  emerge.

  “Hey, we can milk the Rev for a little while, then get him to pay

  for the abortion,” says the young man as he and Melissa relax on

  an old, dusty couch.

  “I don’t know, Damon.”

  “What don’t you know? I’m tellin’ you, the shit will work.”

  Damon pushes Melissa’s cheek with his finger so that she is now

  facing him. “Look, girl, I love you, I’m just not ready for a baby

  right now. I promise once I get a good job, we will be together.

  Just do this one thing for me, please.”

  The scene changes, and Melissa sees her face drenched with

  tears, crying out of control. She is standing in front of Damon’s

  house, gripping a large suitcase.

  “They threw me out,” Melissa says, wiping her tears. Damon steps down from the porch and attempts to comfort

  her. He places his arms around her gently and squeezes softly,

  while looking around to make sure no one is watching. “What are you going to do?” he asks.

  After a few whimpers and sniffles, Melissa answers. “I figured I would stay here with you until things blow over.” Damon backs up.

  “Stay here? No, I don’t think that’ll work. What about my

  mom?”

  “What are you talking about, you said tha--” Melissa is interrupted by the squeaky front door.

  “Damon, is everything okay?” The attractive young woman

  sticks her head out from the opening. From the expression on

  Damon’s face, it’s obvious: this is no relative.

  “No, everything is okay, baby,” Damon answers.

  “Baby?” Melissa says indignantly. Without warning, Melissa

  punches him, knocking him onto the concrete steps. Melissa glares

  up at the young woman, who looks on in disbelief. She then looks

  back at Damon and his bloody lip. Melissa grabs the handle of her

  suitcase and continues down the street.

  Melissa’s eyes open as a brisk wind crawls up her body, sending

  violent chills.

  The child then begins to circle Melissa slowly and continues

  to speak, “You knew you were pregnant a week before the old

  reverend propositioned you. I think you wanted me dead before

  Damon even mentioned the abortion. Were you afraid to have a

  black baby? Were you, Mother?”

  “That’s not true!” she insists in a shivering, loud voice. “I loved

  your father!”

  The child’s evil disposition emerges.

  “Instead of having me, you send me to this place?!” The child

  opens her arms wide as her eyes change to pitch-black mirrors.

  Her skin begins to boil, and her pink dress becomes wet with

  blood. Without warning, a baby’s cry erupts from the darkness.

  The baby screams with intensity. Suddenly the cry amplifies and

  multiplies. Melissa cups her ears as the high-pitched crying and

  screaming vibrate. From the blackness, resounds the sound of

  millions of babies crying, screaming for help in their own distinctive tones.

  “You will set me free!” the child demands as her skin begins to

  peel and fall, slapping the unseen floor like mounds of uncooked

  meat dropping onto a butcher’s steel counter. “I will join my new

  guardian, my new father! You will slay another, you will allow your

  heart to grow as black as mine! Take this dagger and slaughter one

  of the men who have made your life a living hell!” In front of

  Melissa stands the little demon with its ice-cold eyes and deadly

  grin, offering her the sleek dagger decorated with black ravens.

  Through the blackness, three men appear in front of her, all of their hands bound to wooden stakes. All three look confused as they stare nervously into the darkness.

  4

  Father Johns approaches the house through the drenching rain and hailing winds, grasping his torn Bible tightly. He peers into the clouds, watching the lightning rip through the

  sky. With a deep cough, he wipes his exposed head and lifts his coat collar slightly higher. Exposing himself beyond the cover of thick bushes, he views an unnatural sight. The shadow-hidden home is trimmed with a hoard of black ravens perched silently at every corner of the roof and porch. Some wiggle their heads, others flap their wings, but most stand dangerously still.

  The rain and lightning seem to hover, concentrating their energy. Like an enormous antennae, the house seems to draw energy from the violent storm.

  “The beast is here, my Heavenly Father,” Father Johns says qui - etly under his breath. “And they know I am here as well.”

  He continues toward the house and watches the devilish crea- tures’ eyes begin to glow that witchy green. The house, blanketed by shadow, is an unearthly scene. Pairs of illuminating eyes peer downward at the approaching priest. Step by step, Father Johns walks carefully onto the rain-soaked porch. He gazes left to right, watching the birds.

  The door suddenly squeals open with an echo as if it is a grand entrance to a vast empty hall. Slowly he removes his coat and drops it to the porch floor. From his pocket, he pulls his golden pendant and places it around his neck.

  Father Johns is startled as two of the ravens fly away imme- diately after seeing the pendant. He pulls his small wire-framed glasses out of his pocket and places them on his face.

  Wiping excess water from his arms, Father Johns enters the freezing house, stepping cautiously into the darkness. The door slams.

  Father Johns reaches down and grasps his holy pendant tightly. Peering into the darkness, he shouts.

  “Melissa! Don’t listen to them! They are liars, they don’t love you! You must block your hate. That is what the demon child feeds on!” The priest’s voice carries into a resounding vibrant echo. “Melissa, can you hear me?”

  Melissa, still within her black nightmare, hears a whisper of the priest’s voice. Her face covered with blood, her eyes black as soot, she licks the black dagger that drips thick blood from a fresh kill. The demon child stands behind her quietly with an expression of pure pleasure; its icy blue eyes illuminate to their witchy green.

  “It has commenced,” says the little demon.

  The house rumbles, and Father Johns falls to the floor, his Bible falling from his hands. The Bible is attacked by a vortex of wind that begins tearing at the pages, ripping them to shreds. As the pieces of paper debris fling through the air, Father Johns’ face is sliced with dozens of paper cuts. His glasses are ripped from his face, and his Bible is torn into pieces.

  Without warning, a bright, phosphorescent green globe dances around the frightened priest as he rises to his feet.

  “Melissa! Don’t let Sarah’s death be in vain, Melissa!” he coughs. “I know you can hear me, Melissa!” Suddenly a ma
ssive voice emanates from another room.

  “I don’t know if she can hear you, preacher, but I can.” The colossal beast enters the room, its eyes glowing brightly.

  “Who are you?” asks Father Johns in a low voice.

  credit to: www.tomituri.hu “I am Harry, Mr. Nicholas, I am the winged nightmare that watches your every move. I am the beast that sliced your precious Sarah into ribbons. Any other questions, preacher?”

  “Where is Melissa?”

  “Fulfilling her destiny!”

  “This is not her destiny, beast!”

  The gigantic demon races toward Father Johns. Its feet slash

  across the floor. The thick plush carpet silences its approach, and for a moment, Father Johns is certain he’s gone deaf. Its mouth gapes wide, showing its glowing razor-sharp teeth, dripping thick saliva.

  The demon roars, spraying Father Johns with the green saliva. Father Johns crouches to the ground, gripping his pendant with all his strength. He slaps away the green scum. As if in slow motion, he can see the monstrous shadow, rising up over him, climbing higher and higher, its massive legs driving it closer with each step. His heart pounds at an unbelievable rate and strength. He feels the hot breath of the beast upon him. The ground under- neath him rumbles and shudders. Closer, the beast approaches with the sound of a rhinoceros gone mad.

  With one last gaze upward, Father Johns sees the shadow of the immense claws reaching for his throat. Suddenly his golden pendant spreads a blinding golden beam of light that strikes the beast in the eyes. The bouncing green orb explodes into thousands of glistening particles.

  The front door of the house bursts open. The beast is knocked backward, slamming into the wall. It screams in anger. The whole room shakes. Father Johns stares out the open door, while block- ing the debris from his eyes. A huge flock of white doves rushes into the house, closely followed by a hoard of black ravens.

  Father Johns is awestruck. The shadow of the birds soars over him, blotting out all the light in the room. He ducks down for pro- tection, peeping out of trembling eyelids to watch the battle.