Mischiefmakers: Dark Macabre Read online

  Breaking through dead entangled trees, the branches slash and slice through Jackie’s already tattered sundress, cutting her flesh.

  “You will not get away from us. We will find you!”

  Jackie’s energy drains from her body. She pants and hyperventilates as her chest tightens. Grasping her mouth, she makes a des- perate attempt to conserve energy, fighting to maintain strength. Her small size allows her to squeeze between branches that would prove impassable in her adult form.

  Tripping on an uprooted tree, she stumbles to the earth, slamming her mouth into a petrified tree stump. Almost passing out, she hears the noise of rumbling feet close behind, charging through the mounds of dead leaves and branches. Spitting out the thick blood and cracked teeth, she rises and continues to run. The farther away from the carnival grounds she gets, she feels her adult strength returning.

  Ahead of her, among the trees and shrubs, she sees a bright light. A glorious golden halo creeps throughout as it remains steadily in front. She knows nothing else but to head directly toward the light. She believes the fate behind her to be far worse than that within the luminous dominion ahead. With her mouth throbbing and her head pounding, she leaps into the light’s outer boundary.

  “Stop, Jackie, it’s me!” Jackie opens her eyes, finding herself fighting off Sarah. “You’re bleeding on your mouth and arms, God! I think you chewed up your tongue! Wait right here. I’ll get somethin’ to clean you up.” Jackie grabs Sarah’s shirt with her exhausted arms. Pulling Sarah down, Jackie nervously whispers in Sarah’s ear.

  “I-I have to talk to you.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” asks Mr. Nicholas, sud- denly standing directly behind Sarah. Jackie’s eyes fill with fright, recognizing the old man. The long black beard is absent, no longer screening his face.

  “Oh, Mr. Nicholas, what are you doing here? Thanks for ask- ing, but I think I can handle this. She just bit her tongue real bad.”

  “Well, take this handkerchief to clean up some of the blood.” Mr. Nicholas lifts a snow-white cloth from his pocket and hands it to Sarah, who reluctantly accepts it.

  “Thank you,” Sarah responds.

  Jackie lifts her exhausted body, staring intensely at the concerned old man. She stumbles into the wall while attempting to maintain her balance. Her shredded clothing drapes alongside as the strands sway with her every movement. Her eyes bulge as she backs toward the exit. Her bloody hands streak the wall she is using to guide her escape. Jackie maintains a fixed gaze upon the man, being sure not to lose sight of him.

  “Let me help you, Jack--”

  “No! I’m okay, I-I just need to get outta here!” Jackie shrieks as she slaps Sarah’s hand away.

  “Maybe I could drive you to the hospital?” asks Mr. Nicholas.

  “No! You stay away from me you...you devil!” Jackie bursts toward the doorway.

  “Jackie, wait!” Sarah screams.

  Jackie slowly turns, her face teeming with sweat and blood. She looks at Sarah, then Mr. Nicholas, whose eyes suddenly turn into an abyss of blackness and his mouth into a sneering grin as if to say, I am who you think I am. Jackie opens her exhausted mouth and speaks faintly.

  “Oh my God…they’re here.” She runs out the door.

  As soon as she is in front of the building, Jackie takes a long, deep breath and runs down the street, disappearing into the darkness.

  “What happened to her?” asks Mr. Nicholas.

  “I don’t know. When I came downstairs to look for her, I found her on the floor scratching and beating herself like she was crazy or somethin.’”

  “Well, if you see her, let me know, maybe I can help her like I helped you two.” Mr. Nicholas begins walking toward the door.

  “Mr. Nicholas, you wanna take a look at the apartment or somethin’?”

  “No, that’s okay, I know you two are taking care of the place. I just came by to drop something off to one of your neighbors. I’ll see you later.” Mr. Nicholas briskly walks out the building.

  Sarah stands quiet for a few moments, trying to rationalize the strange event. At this moment, she realizes she is still holding Mr. Nicholas’ handkerchief.

  “Mr. Nicholas!” Rushing out the front doors, she searches for the old man who has just stepped outside. To her amazement, he is nowhere. She stretches her neck and squints, trying to locate him, but he’s gone. “Damn! He just walked out here! How could he drive away so fast? I ain’t hear no car.”

  “Sarah, you still talkin’ to yourself?” asks Melissa, standing at the top of the stairs.

  “Girl, you should have come downstairs with me! I came down and saw Jackie on the floor squirming around like she was in a nightmare or somethin’. When I tried to wake her, she bit her mouth all up and started bleeding. It reminded me of that time with you at St. Mary’s. You should have seen it, she was scratching herself, ripping her clothes to shreds. She damn near ran out of here topless! Then Mr. Nicholas shows up and tries to help, but she cursed at him and called him a devil. I mean, she was terrified of him as if he had done somethin’ to her.”

  “Why did you let her leave?”

  “I couldn’t stop her. She ain’t want help, then she ran out. It seemed like she was runnin’ from Mr. Nicholas.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know. That’s weird too. He just popped up. Then he disappeared out the door. I ran after him to give him his handkerchief back, but he was gone. He said he had to drop off somethin’ to one of our neighbors. That’s strange too. I ain’t seen a neighbor since we’ve been here!”

  “Let’s go up and clear everyone out. We’ll go and see if we can find her,” says Melissa, concerned about her friend.

  8

  Watchful eyes loom above the bright night-lights of Newark in search of prey. They dash in and out of alleys on a desperate hunt. Like a winged predator, they cut through

  the wind, effortlessly and silently. With their keen eyesight, they find their prey as she runs through a deserted, dark alley. Gasping for air, dry mouthed, and her heart pounding, Jackie runs as fast as she can. Her feet feel like they’re suddenly made of cement — she wants to flee, but her heavy feet keep dragging her down, and she can’t run fast enough. She knows the devilish creatures from her nightmare will soon send more messengers to fulfill their promise. She slips and stumbles to her knees. But she gets back up and keeps running. She feels a frightening, cold chill creeping up her spine, tickling each nerve with a delicate stroke. She feels like if she doesn’t stop running soon, her heart will explode.

  The wind a few moments ago was calm and quiet. All of a sudden, a gusty breeze follows her through the alley. She looks up. She feels something in the sky is tracing her steps, choosing the proper moment to swoop down upon her. Her inner feelings are not far from the truth. The angry bloodshot eyes begin to descend from the night sky. Powerful and wicked, the eyes sense the terror that pulses through Jackie’s body, warming it to a dreadful numb.

  Jackie stops abruptly at a large wooden door.

  “Father Johns! Please open up, Father! I need your help!” Jackie, shivering madly, pounds on the wooden door. “Father, please open the door!” Just before the watchful eyes can pounce on the unprotected woman, she is pulled through the back door of St. Paul’s Cathedral.

  She has found sanctuary.

  The eyes, furious, quietly disappear into the evening sky.

  credit to: www.tomituri.hu

  SEEING DEMONS

  Days later, Sarah finds herself still haunted by the events that took place the night of the party. She lies back in the thick couch, trying to recollect that night’s events. Jackie’s terrified voice echoes throughout Sarah’s conscience as she sleeps.

  “No! You stay away from me you...you devil!” Jackie’s eyes bled with tears of fright and exhaustion. Her inju - ries, she didn’t even care, all she wanted to do was get away from Mr. Nicholas. Why was he there? What neighbor was he talkin’ about? Why did Jackie run when s
he saw him? She called him a devil, why a devil? There is somethin’ strange about this man. He comes out of nowhere, like he was sent or somethin’. Seems he’s trying to keep Missy and me alone, away from people. Wait, not me at all, just Missy. I’m not supposed to be here. Yeah, that’s it, just Missy.

  This place is beautiful, it becomes even more beautiful each time I look at it. But there is no television, no telephone, nothin’ to the outside world. Okay, now I’m scared of this place, and I don’t know why.

  A dove? Where did that come from? I wasn’t thinking of any doves, but it comes into my dream. Flying pass, it releases a sooth- ing wind that seems to protect me. Are you here to protect me, little bird? Can you tell me why I feel fear when there is no reason to feel it? Why do I feel like I am in jail, there are no bars? Why do I question a man who has shown nothin’ but kindness to me and my friend?

  An adoring voice rends the air within her thoughts, “Find Jackie, she has the answers you seek. My child, be careful, for the evil that surrounds you is powerful. If you need me, call me. If you love me, worship me. But if you are surrounded by thy enemy, you will fight with me until this enemy is forever no more. You may feel that I have abandoned you, but it is not true. Evil has infiltrated the souls of many, tarnishing and piercing the bril- liant armor that once housed your saved essence. A great war shall free my souls, for the prison that traps them is held together with frail bars, easily shattered once exposed to pure love. My warriors are few, but they are powerful, and soon you will be amongst them.

  “Your soul is not yet strong enough to comprehend me, so my only hope is that you will find me and accept my embrace. Behold, my light shall cast over you, and you shall be adorned with wings of an angel.”

  Sarah tosses in her sleep when a light comforts her body, and her sleep deepens.

  “Go, Sarah, find Jackie...find her.”

  2

  “ D amn, I musta fell asleep.” Sarah rises from her comfortable position, stretching, and bellowing out a huge yawn. “Let me go and find Jackie to make sure she’s okay. Melissa! I’m

  heading out for a few hours, I’ll see you later.” Sarah slips on some jeans and hurries out the door. “Why do I have a headache? Man, I gotta stop thinkin’ so hard, this shit hurts.” Walking with a casual stride, Sarah heads up the street toward downtown Newark.

  Sarah doesn’t seem to remember her encounter with the holy entity that filled her with a sense of self worth. The many ques- tions she has asked herself about Mr. Nicholas seem not as important anymore. What is important is that she finds Jackie. She can’t understand why she feels such an urgency to find her, but she knows she must.

  As Sarah walks toward the mission, she sees a group of men standing around, engrossed in a serious discussion. Sarah overhears one of the men asking the others questions.

  “Have any of you seen them?”

  “Naw, I ain’t seen them boys in a while,” a man replies. Avoiding the group, she walks into the mission, asking people

  if they have seen Jackie. Everyone’s reply is the same: they haven’t seen or heard from her in a few days. She hadn’t even come to the mission to get her daily meals. Sarah finds this strange.

  Peering over at another table, Sarah sees Donald. With his face embedded in his plate, he shovels forkfuls of spaghetti into his mouth.

  Maybe he has seen Jackie. As she walks toward him, she can’t help but hear the news broadcast from the large TV that is mounted high.

  “Good afternoon, this is Katie Harris reporting to you live from KLEW news channel ten. It’s been since May 18th that Sen- ator Harris’ daughter, Mrs. Elane Garrison, who recently married police detective Maury Garrison, was reported missing. The ten thousand-dollar reward for information has turned up nothing but false leads and frivolous reports. If you have any information, please contact a 911 operator at once or call 555-7639. At the time of Mrs. Garrison’s disappearance, she was wearing a red shirt and blue jeans. Her last known location was the University of Medi- cine and Dentistry Hospital in the late hours of May 18th, where she did volunteer counseling for the city. Again, that number is 555-7639. If you have any information, please call. Now here’s Reginald Sears with sports and...”

  As Sarah squints, trying to recollect, her surroundings begin to move in slow motion. Mouths open and close and voices become deathly silent. The room has not changed, but it seems to fall distant as people walk to and fro. The TV remains on, but its sound reduces to a low mutter. Her sight now dimming, Sarah’s head and body throb as she watches cigarette smoke drift like clouds. The short walk to Donald becomes a long journey. Her pulse races as she recalls.

  “Garrison, Harris, social worker, May 16th, my birthday. Red shirt, blue jeans, the alley next to University Hospital, that’s where I found Melissa, wearing blue jeans and a red shirt. Was Melissa wearing that woman’s clothes? I have to talk to her.”

  “I-I d-d-didn’t do it! I-I h-h-had n-nothing to do w-with what happened to y-your place!” Donald screams nervously.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “They m-messed up y-y-your c-crib. It w-w-was their i-i-idea! I left, they s-stayed.” Donald tries to calm his stuttering voice as he nervously drops his utensils.

  “Who messed up the apartment? I just came from the apart- ment, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

  “Y-Yes, it w-was your place, I s-saw y-your stuff! 3B, a-at the end of th-the hall, at the b-building on L Ave!”

  Sarah sits down next to Donald, carefully listening to him. She wonders if this will be another strange event she must sort through.

  “Donald, calm down! I’m not mad at you or anything like that, I just want to understand what you’re talkin’ about. You stutter real bad when you’re nervous, so stop being nervous.”

  He grabs his fork and twirls a large ball of spaghetti, then wolfs it down. His other trembling hand slowly reaches for his large, cool cup of water. Gulping almost the entire cup, he takes a deep swallow and begins to tell his story.

  “Last w-week, M-Marty overheard you talkin’ about y-your crib, so he w-wanted to go and rip you off. They promised me some stuff, so I went. Th-they trashed the crib, S-Silas sh-shited all over the place, and M-Marty cut up all the pillows. I-I know it w-was the right p-place because I saw yours and M-Melissa’s stuff.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “L-Last Wednesday, before your party.”

  Sarah remembers that Thursday morning when she and Melissa returned, the apartment had been completely cleaned. The night before they had spent time with Sissy.

  “If Silas and Marty messed the place up Wednesday night, how did it get cleaned by morning? Where is Silas and Marty?”

  “I-I don’t know, I haven’t s-seen them since that night. I-I’m tellin’ you, they trashed t-that a-apartment. Th-there’s is no w-way you couldn’t see.”

  “Why you leave?” Sarah asks.

  “I-I don’t know. S-something about that place scared me. I-I thought I heard a voice tell me to leave. Th-they didn’t hear it, but I did.”

  “What did the voice say?” asks Sarah.

  “You will d-d-die if you d-do not leave. F-funny th-thing, it sounded like a child, a little girl.”

  “You heard a little girl?!”

  “Yeah, a little girl.” Marty’s eyes sink with fright.

  “Did you see her? Did you see anything!”

  “No!” he responds with a trembling voice.

  “Look, why don’t you come to the place, to make sure you’re--”

  “No! I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Something is wrong there, I could feel it. I-I know I use drugs and s-stuff, b-but I ain’t stupid, s-ssomethin’ is wrong there, you shouldn’t stay!” The memory of that child’s voice comes back with amazing clarity. You will die if you do not leave. You will die if you do not leave. You will die! Donald clutches his head, begging the voice to stop.

  “Oh God, please stop, get outta my head!” With his frail, drug track-ridden arm, he swipes
his steel tray of food and drink onto the floor. “Get outta my head!” Donald stands, shivering madly, then with an ominous whisper, his chapped lips open, and his squeaky voice sounds, “You will die, Sarah. I can see it.” His pale face covered with sweat, he rushes out of the mission, still clutching his head.

  “What was that all about?” asks Sister Long, one of the mission volunteers.

  “I don’t know.” Sarah’s mind swarms with thoughts and fear as she stands and makes her way toward the exit.

  credit to: blhayes

  3

  Donald finds himself bursting through the door of an aban - doned building. Panting heavily, he peeks around every corner, investigating his hiding place.

  His skin is pale, his eyes are filled with blood. Salty sweat drips into his eyes and mouth. He continuously wipes his face. Walking through the trash and rubble, Donald begins to feel a false sense of security. He takes another complete gaze at the room, then sits on a half-burned, piss-ridden mattress.

  His heart calms to a steady rhythm, his pulse slows, and his perspiration subsides. Laying his head back on the wretched bed, he ignores the piercing smell of urine; he has slept in far worse conditions.

  As he drifts into a quiet sleep, he doesn’t notice the witchy green glow beginning to creep between the cracks of the walls and ceiling. The bright green shadow cuts softly through the quiet, still air as Donald lies quietly. The shadings of green glow throughout the room create a tropical ambiance. Small spheres of soft, yellow, phosphorescent light bounce around the room, like mystical globes running on random energy.