Something Bad

Something Bad

William Ollie Something Bad

Chris Ricker watched the kid in the skeleton costume toss a homemade popcorn ball into his plastic Wal-Mart sack. He moved a little further down the street, laughing at crazy old lady Whitcomb standing in the doorway of her old rundown home, clown makeup smeared all over her face, her hair teased up like friggin’ Bozo. Chris caught up with the kid just as he was closing the old lady’s gate. “Yo, Charlie,” he said. “What’s up?” “How,” Charlie said, raising a hand, saluting the buckskin-clad youth like a cowboy out of an old John Wayne movie. “Nice costume.” “Yeah, my mom made it for me.” “Nice.” “Charlie, you’re not gonna believe this shit.” “What?” “There’s a dead vampire up at the graveyard.” “Sure there is.” “I’m serious, Charlie. I saw it in the old tomb, laid out bigger’n shit with a stake right through her heart.” “Her,” Charlie scoffed. “There’s a woman laid out in the old tomb with a stake through her heart.”

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Something Bad

William Ollie

“I swear. I was walkin’ past the old soldier’s cemetery and I seen a light comin’ outa the tomb. Walked right up there and found her. Man, I almost had a heart attack.” Chris nodded his head eastward. “C’mon, I’ll show you.” “I ain’t goin’ up to that graveyard.” “Why? Ya scared?” “No, I ain’t scared. I ain’t stupid, either.” “What, you don’t believe me?” “Heck no.” Charlie snorted. “Vampire… right.” “Tell ya what.” Chris held out his nearly full sack of candy. “We go up there and there ain’t no vampire; I’ll give you this.” “Oh yeah?” Charlie stood there, eying the wide assortment of goodies peeking out at him: candy corn and jawbreakers, Hershey’s kisses, miniature Snicker bars and Milky Ways. Add that to his already decent stash, and he’d be rolling in candy for a while. A long while. He looked Chris in the eye, stuck out his hand, and said, “You got a deal.” “But,” Chris said while they shook on it, “if there is a dead vampire up there, I get your bag’a candy… deal?” “Deal!” Charlie said, already tasting the Bit-O-Honeys he’d seen lying scattered amongst the other treats. “C’mon then,” Chris said, smiling as the two of them walked side-by-side down the street, past trick or treaters and houses decorated with pumpkins and hanging ghosts, past scarecrows wired to lampposts and a bevy of fake tombstones standing sentry in the yards they passed by along the way. Halloween sounds were all around them: children crying out, “Trick or treat!”

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Something Bad

William Ollie

Adults laughing, cheerfully saying, “Oh, what scary little ghosts!” Every once in a while they’d hear spooky music floating through the air, or a mock scream drifting by on the chilly October breeze. They left the neighborhoods and the costumed children behind them as the houses and streetlights grew farther apart, their shadows deepening as they crossed the railroad tracks and started up a hill that led past the schoolyard. “How about Johnny Rodgers today?” Chris said, snickering. “Oh, God,” Charlie said, laughing as he remembered the picture that had been passed around the classroom: Mrs. Peters, naked, a huge set of cartoon tits drooping past her knees, a big rubber dick clutched in her fat little fist. “I almost shit when I saw that!” “Me, too,” Charlie said, laughing again, as Chris did the same. “What a dumbass,” Chris said. “I know. He drew it on the back of one of his old test papers.” Both of them cracked up, laughing uncontrollably. “Did you see the look on Mrs. Peter’s face when she snatched it outa Mindy’s hands?” “Oh, Mindy,” Charlie said, then, “Best tits in the seventh grade.” “Seventh grade? She’s got the best tits in the whole damn school!” They crested the hill and saw the cemetery looming in the distance, moonlight reflecting off the gravestones giving them the appearance of giant, chipped teeth. Near the top of the knoll sat the Unknown Soldiers tomb; a low light emanating from its doorway as they walked along talking of Mindy River’s tits, Chris waxing poetically

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Something Bad

William Ollie

about what he would do if he could get his grubby little paws on them: “Whip cream and cherries, with cinnamon sugar sprinkled on top. Then I’d lick ‘em off like a cat lappin’ up milk!” Charlie, shaking his head, laughed and said, “You’re crazy.” “Like a fox,” Chris told him. Then, as they reached the hill’s bottom and started across the street, he nodded at the cemetery. “C’mon.” And across the street they went, Chris stopping for a moment beneath a burnt out streetlight while Charlie stepped behind a bush to take a leak, Chris laughing when he reappeared, pointing and crying out, “Ho!” “What?” “What?” Chris, laughing again, said, “You pissed all over yourself.” “I couldn’t help it. I slipped.” “Well, let’s slip on across the street.” They paused at the old rusted gate and Chris swung it open, slowly, smiling at the creaking noise it made; swinging it back and forth a couple of more times for effect. ”Whooo… Charlie,” he teased. “She’s waiting for you… Charlieeeeee.” “Yeah, right.” Charlie said, his face betraying the nervous chill creeping up his spine. “She’s dried up like an old mummy,” Chris whispered. “You ain’t gonna believe it.” “I already don’t believe it.” Charlie thought about the tombstones and the crosses shining beneath the full moon, and the light he’d seen coming from the old crypt.

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Something Bad

William Ollie

He looked down at his watch at the gooseflesh spread across his forearms. But it was only eight-thirty, and nothing happens at eight-thirty, so he followed Chris into the graveyard. Kind of reluctantly, but he followed just the same. Chris led Charlie across the old confederate soldier’s cemetery. There was a path winding its way to the top of the knoll, but Chris ignored it, opting instead for a short cut over the graves, stomping across them as if they weren’t even there. But Charlie didn’t step on them. He wasn’t about to. They passed another grave, and onto the path they stepped, the tomb close enough now for Charlie see the flickering shadows dancing within its walls, caused by that chilly breeze, no doubt, the same one that was spreading a shiver of dread throughout Charlie as a handful of leaves swirled around his feet. “C’mon!” Chris said, Charlie following right on his heels, a quick burst of nervous energy sending him bounding up the stairs into the dimly-lit tomb, where he stopped for a moment, staring at a three-pronged candelabrum that sat atop the old soldier’s resting place. Faint light from three black candles it held flickered in the wind, casting an eerie glow throughout a room that had about it the distinct smell of freshly turned earth. Charlie wasn’t sure if he wanted to see anymore or not. But when Chris pointed at the floor, and whispered, ‘Look at this shit’, Charlie stepped forward. “See? I told ya.”

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Something Bad

William Ollie

And there she was, just like Chris had said: laid out bigger than shit, hands clutching a wooden stake that had been pounded right through her breast, a dark stain that could only have been dried blood covering her chest and hands—some on her face, too. “Cool,” Charlie said, totally impressed by the figure lying sprawled about the concrete floor, because it looked so real, with its long, black hair falling across its shoulders—a wig, Charlie figured. The musty old robe draping the body, the robe long and flowing, barely covering her breasts—a nice touch, thought Charlie. And then there was that stake, and the painted on blood. He sat his bag of candy on the floor and knelt down beside her. “How did you do this?” he asked as he reached out to touch her. “She’s real, Charlie,” Chris said, a wide smile painting his face. “Looks like you walked all over town for nothing.” “Looks like you owe me a big bag of candy,” Charlie sneered, and then grabbed an arm and shook it, the touch of her skin like running his hand across a sun scorched patch of leather. And so light she was, as if she was made out of dried up papier-mâché. “Careful, Charlie,” Chris taunted. “Something bad might happen if you pull that stake out.” Charlie looked over his shoulder, laughing as he said, “Something bad’s gonna happen if you don’t hand over the snacks.” “She’s real, Charlie,” Chris said. “Give it up.” Charlie grabbed the stake, pulled it loose, stood up and turned to his friend.

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Something Bad

William Ollie

“Surrender the candy or be vanquished!” he called out, holding the stake as if it was a sword, Chris’ eyes growing wide as behind Charlie, someone taunted, “What a scary little ghost!” And a hand grabbed the wrist that held the stake, the hand cold, the flesh stiff as the stake clattered to the concrete floor, and Charlie turned to see a woman standing before him, blood dripping off her chin, her jet-black hair cascading across her shoulders; her blood-soaked robe, soft and silky, hanging loose against her body, parting just enough to give Charlie a birds’ eye view of her enormous breasts. “Look at her tits!” Chris cried out. “Look at her fucking tits!” Charlie tried to scream, but his voice died long before it ever reached his lips, as the woman grabbed his throat and tore it open with a handful of long, razor-sharp nails, blood splashing onto the floor while Charlie’s exposed windpipe twisted like a beheaded snake trying desperately to draw one last breath. She clamped her mouth on the bloody hole, groaning, sucking, blood falling off her chin dripping onto her breasts; her jagged teeth gnawing shredded bits of flesh from him as her arms locked him in a lover’s embrace, squeezing him, dancing and swaying and grinding her hips against his body. Chris dropped his bag of candy and grabbed the stake, and then stepped forward. Swinging the weapon with all his might drove the stake deep into her back, producing an audible thwack! that echoed throughout the tomb as blood exploded from the creature, who howled and grabbed her chest, blood and bile dripping from her mouth as she coughed and hacked, and Charlie’s quaking body bounced onto the floor. She spun around then, taking a faltering a step toward Chris before falling to her knees. Groping and clawing at the pointed end of the stick poking through her breast, she fell onto her

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Something Bad

William Ollie

back, pushing the stake deeper, her long black eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings as she moaned softly and Chris edged closer, reaching out and touching the stake that protruded from the ragged hole in her chest, watching her skin shrivel and dry up, her nails recede into her fingertips, and her long, silky hair grow coarse again. It took him a moment or two to get up the nerve to touch her, but he finally did touch her, and when he felt that leathery skin, he said, “Wow!” Then he turned and saw Charlie lying in a pool of his own blood, and said, “Wow” again, more a whisper than anything else. He grabbed Charlie’s feet and dragged him over to the wall by the Unknown Soldier’s concrete slab, and then picked up Charlie’s bag of candy and ran into the night, dodging tombstones and crosses as he hauled ass through the cemetery. He made his way down the hill, bursting through the gate as he ran hard down the deserted street. Turning corners, cutting through yards, he left the darkness behind him, breathing heavily, his lungs nearly bursting as he finally passed a few trick or treaters, and houses decked out in Halloween gear. Soon, he came upon a kid standing under a streetlight, a shock of red hair poking out from under his baseball cap. Chris knew right away who it was, and he slowed down, eying the kid’s nearly full sack of candy, as he walked up to him and said, “Yo, Johnny Rodgers.” “What’s up, Chris?” “Dude, you’re not gonna believe this shit.” “What?” “There’s a dead vampire up at the graveyard!”

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