Horror showcase, p.4
Horror Showcase, page 4
Doris sat back in her high seat chair, her eyes glued to the woman in the floor length maroon dress gliding across the wooden dance floor towards a tall, white haired man. He was stood next to the buffet table; he seemed oblivious to the adoring looks every woman in the room was giving him.
Stephanie stopped to avoid two excitable youngsters from colliding with her who had just finished overloading their paper plates with bun and snacks.
Emily forgot who had brought them, normally bringing youngsters was frowned upon but nobody seemed to mind this time. Two little bright rays of sunshine were like a breath of fresh air in this room full of pensioners and they were getting a lot of attention.
The kids may have created a lot of excitement and generated a lot of fuss but now, they might as well not exist. Thirty pairs of female eyes watched with breathless anticipation as Stephanie Jacobs put on her best pouting smile and engaged the man in conversation.
Emily didn’t need to look at her best friend to see how badly she was reacting to the scene in front of them. She could hear Doris grinding her own teeth from where she was sitting.
Stephanie reminded her of a starving cat, sidling up to her owner and begging for scraps of meat. Emily found it sickening which was a little weird, a few moments ago, she was cursing her own cowardice for doing having the courage to approach this gorgeous man.
He reacted to her crass attempts at seduction, first by a twitching of lips, then with a grin and finally a collective sigh echoed from twenty nine broken hearts when rewarded Stephanie’s persistence by bending down and giving her a long, slow smouldering kiss.
She was a little surprised at how little it affected her that such a beautiful man would choose someone who used to have the reputation of being the village bike over everyone else in the room.
Doris had, at last, stopped making that dreadful noise with her teeth; she turned to see how her friend was fairing up. If looks could kill, that Stephanie would be a walking corpse by now. The pair walked towards the exit, her arm linked through his.
Doris glared at Emily, that look of hatred she’d given Stephanie was still etched on her face. “This is all your fault, you brain dead gummy bitch.”
“I haven’t done anything!” Emily replied, flabbergasted at her friend’s unwarranted venom.
Doris struggled out of her chair and leaned over the old woman. “You’ve jinxed me, that’s what you’ve done.”
Emily tried to get up but the other woman pushed her back. “If I hadn’t chosen to sit next to Esmeralda’s ugly sister, I may have stood a chance.”
She leaned to one side, desperate to catch the eye of anyone one who could help her, Doris had gone insane. There was little chance of anyone coming to her aid. There were fights breaking out all around the hall. The two little girls were hiding under the buffet table; the little darlings looked scared out of their wits.
Emily forced that feeling of panic back down and straightened up the best she could. “Listen to yourself for crying out loud woman. You’re seventy eight years old. What’s got into you?”
“I wanted him to get into me!” she screamed. Doris clenched her fist and pulled her hand back. “Thanks to you, that’s not going to happen.”
Emily closed her eyes; she didn’t even feel the punch connect.
2
Emily awoke to the quiet sound of someone besides her sobbing. She opened one eye a crack. Good heavens! Her friend Doris was in a right old state, whatever could be wrong?
At that moment, the picture of her wiping that hanky across Emily’s face rushed to the front of her mind. What else had happened? She couldn’t remember, that was a little disturbing, she hoped she hadn’t drunk too much and made a fool of herself. She didn’t feel hung-over.
Emily opened both eyes, bright sunlight streamed through the window. This wasn’t her flat. It took a moment to get her bearings. Emily was laid out on the settee in Doris’s living room.
“Doris? Are you okay love?”
The woman started and looked out of the window while hurriedly wiping her face. Doris turned back and smiled down at her looking a little more composed.
“Never mind me dear, what about you?”
“I’m fine,” replied Emily, a little confused. “Why? Shouldn’t I be?” Emily shook her head then cringed as wave of pains crashed through her. “Ooh that hurt,” she whispered. “What happened to me?”
“I hit you. Knocked you out with one punch so I did.” She stood up and stepped away from Emily. “It wasn’t my fault!” she gasped. “It was him, that new boyfriend of Stephanie, he made me do it.”
Emily sat up; she tried to ignore her throbbing head. The image of that beautiful man came back to her and thrust all other thoughts out of her head. How could she have forgotten about him? Emily remembered his long hand caressing Stephanie’s and imagined that same strong hand on her own waist then sliding further and further down.
Doris shook her shoulders. “Snap out of it woman, you’re beginning to drool.”
“Who is he?”
Doris shook her head. “I have no idea but i do know one thing. The man has disappeared and so has Stephanie.”
She helped Emily up off the settee. “Can you walk?”
“I think so,” she replied. “Why the sense of urgency?”
Doris shook her head then let out a long sigh.
“Look Doris, she got her prize and that’s that. She’s a big girl and I’m sure Stephanie will be fine, they’ll be both no doubt shacked up n some hotel in town and having the time of their life.”
“Have you quite finished little Miss Prim and Proper?” Doris asked while tapping her fingers against the window frame. “We need to find them before the police do. While you were having your little sleep, there was a full scale riot going on. Mrs. Hardaker is in hospital with three cracked ribs.”
“What? Why what happened?”
“Alice Bronson walloped her with a broken chair leg. The police think that this man released some gas into the atmosphere, oh I don’t know. All I know is that I think our friend Stephanie is in serious trouble.”
She wondered if that was the only reason, while the woman had been yapping on, a few chunks of memory from last night did come back, including all those horrible things Doris said to her last night.
She padded up to Emily and planted a kiss on her cheek. I know, why don’t you sit back down and I’ll make us both a nice refreshing cup of tea.
She was a little taken aback by her generous offer. Emily was the one who made the tea that had always been the rule. Emily did as she was told and sat back down, fighting the urge to follow Doris into the kitchen. She really didn’t know what to make of Doris’s gas story, it sounded as implausible as a bush of grey haired oldies having a riot.
Yet something a bit peculiar happened last night, that was for sure, Emily could not discount those unfamiliar feelings of lust that had coursed through her veins earlier on.
“We’ll get these drunk and then we’ll get off.” Doris said through the serving hatch.
She was up to something. Emily watched her nice as pie, face disappearing back into the kitchen. Emily wanted to believe that this was just her way of apologising. In all the forty three years of Doris’s low level bullying, Emily had never heard the woman apologize for anything.
Oh God, it was obvious, she felt like such an idiot for not spotting it earlier. Doris still had the hots for the man. Doris wouldn’t give two hoots about Stephanie’s welfare. She hated the woman. No, Stephanie had stolen what Doris had claimed as her property. She wanted it back, oh Jesus.
Her friend padded back into the living room carrying a breakfast tray holding two cups.
“I’ve already cooled them so we can be on our way.” She set the tray down on the table. “We had best hurry though; I’d hate to think of the trouble poor Stephanie could be in.”
Emily wanted to go home and not to take any further part in this madness. She took a tiny sip of the lukewarm tea, making it last. As if Doris would allow her to go home.
She watched Emily take another tiny sip. “Has your throat closed up?”
Emily licked her lips then set the cup down, she refused to drink any more, it was horrible. “You don’t understand…”
“No, you don’t understand,” interrupted Doris. “The longer you take the less chance we have of getting to poor Stephanie.”
This pretend concern of hers was beginning to grate somewhat. “If the police don’t know where they are, what chance do we have?”
Doris drank down her own vile potion in one go then smiled down at Emily. “My dear friend, I’ve always regarded you as a precious flower. You know that don’t you.”
Emily nodded.
“Well, precious flowers needed to be nurtured, to be looked after and kept safe from undesirable elements.”
Good lord! Doris was talking to her as if she was a little girl. Emily suddenly felt her own blood drop a few degrees. Doris had always spoken to her like this; it had only been since last night that she had been aware of it. Had she really been under a veil for over forty years?
“Well that Stephanie is one such undesirable that I’ve tried to keep away for my precious little flower.”
Doris stroked her cheek and Emily surprised herself by not flinching.
“I made it my business to find out all I could about that wicked woman.” She suddenly spun around and marched over to the room door, she unhooked Emily’s coat and threw it at her. “Come on, it’s time to go, it’s bloody obvious that you don’t want my tea.
“Go where Doris?”
“Do you really believe that she can afford all that jewellery on her pension? What about those many dresses thrown around her scrawny frame or the holidays to foreign parts twice a year?” Doris chuckled, “They aren’t the only parts that the whore visits either. Have you not noticed just how nervous our caretaker is around her?”
“What are you trying to say?”
Doris opened the front door then pulled out a ring of silver keys from her purse.
Emily gasped. “Oh my goodness, they are the caretaker’s master keys. Where did you get them?”
“Never you mind,” she replied. “Now get your coat on and follow me.”
3
Emily scampered through the residential hallways, struggling to keep up with Doris. What was wrong with her? Was Emily so much of a lily-livered coward that she could even say no to one old woman? To tell her that enough was enough. You do what you have to, I just want to go home and have a lay down.
Even Henry was mocking her this morning. Henry had been her loyal friend for decades. Emily was so familiar with her friend’s back that a number of years ago, she had given that huge mole to the left of Doris’s shoulder blade a name.
Her sandaled feet were moving on their own volition, it should be easy to just stop, turn around and scurry away. She doubted that Doris would even notice.
Doris rattled through the keys. “Here we are.”
She sighed; it was too late now anyway.
“This will be where the little trollop will be holed up, her own private room courtesy of a certain sex-starved caretaker who has a deviance for the older generation.” Doris unlocked the door.
Emily briefly wondered if Doris had to become part of his harem in order to obtain those keys. The mental picture of those two locked in a passionate embrace popped into her head. Emily grimaced and squashed the thought away before it turned her stomach. It was bad enough knowing that she would be burping up that dishwashing tasting tea all day without the thought of Doris having sex as well.
The door clicked open and before Emily could gather her senses, the other woman’s hand whipped out and hooked around her wrist and pulled Emily through the door.
“I don’t want you scampering off before the fun starts little miss rabbit eyes.”
Emily whimpered. “You’re hurting me Doris. I wasn’t thinking of going anywhere, I promise. We’re friends remember.”
Doris let go and smiled. Emily forced herself to return the smile.
“Thick and thin?”
“Of course Doris. Thick and thin.”
Why was it so dark in here? Emily peered into the living room. The curtains were still drawn; even so, it shouldn’t be this dingy. The flat was filthy, there was dust and what looked like cobwebs everywhere. The neglected feel to this place hadn’t stopped Doris though; the woman was too intent on reclaiming her prize to notice. Emily sniffed, what the hell was that? A weird chemical smell had reached her nose, sort of a cross between ammonia and gone off meat. Good lord, that was just rank.
“Can you not smell that Doris? There is no way that this is a love-pad, look around you.”
There was no response.
“Doris? Are you okay?”
The other woman began to shake.
“Stop it Doris, you’re scaring me.”
The shakes had now grown into a full blown seizure. Emily panicked and fell back against the hallway wall. She put her hand through something that felt like damp paper then Doris turned, staggered forward a couple of steps then fell to her knees. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, her jaw swung open and strings of drool hung from either side of Doris’s mouth. Emily followed the other woman’s eyes and shrieked.
4
Gillespie had observed the two females enter his new home with great interest. The elevated levels of oestrogen emanating from the first female excited him to a point where he was forced to expel the last of the contents from the endorphin sac under his thorax.
These two must have been in the hall last night. Gillespie thought that he had picked them all up, still, he wasn’t about to complain. It was annoying how the other woman wasn’t reacting to his pheromones. It was unusual but not unknown. If she wasn’t receptive as an egg chamber, he could always add her to the larder. His babies will be ravenous when they hatched.
He watched the unaffected female wipe what was left of his man skin on her clothes. Gillespie slid silently across the ceiling, the suckers on his six black, legs held him securely in place.
Somehow, the unaffected woman must have sensed him and screamed before making a run for the door. He dropped down between them. She was almost at the door, and he scuttled after her, eager to stop the woman from escaping. Then an irresistible scent reached his receptors, compelling him to stop and turn, the other woman had begun to remove her clothes.
Daddy Dearest by Dave Jeffery
Daddy was mean. Not in the fiscal sense like keeping his money secure behind the impregnable doors of a city bank. He was mean in the way he fetched bright blood with his small hard knuckles, or the manner in which he’d laugh when tears cut tracks through the gore on his kid’s faces.
Our faces.
Lindsey and me.
Lindsey is twenty three now, a woman with yellow hair and a slightly crooked smile. But I’ll always remember her as a gangly thing with freckles and a sense of mischief. Even with all the beatings Daddy Dearest doled out. Gangly, yes. But weak? It was never a word I could associate with my sister. Even when she lay on her bed, bloodied and bruised as Mickey Mouse peered down from the walls that grin saying more than those black, black eyes. Daddy’s birthday gift for her tenth birthday was three fractured ribs. Yes, he put tears on her cheeks and bruised her pale freckled skin; but he never took the light from her eyes.
Lindsey.
My Lindsey.
Never ceasing to amaze, to rise above the adversity of parental abuse. Taking the blows that had my name on them, giving me comfort in the dark as Daddy Dearest slept off another bottle of Ol’ Jack, his thundering snores hiding my sobs and Lindsey’s soft “shushes” as she stroked my battered body.
Never ceasing to amaze.
Until the day came when she had the opportunity to leave and said “no”. Me, of course, that was the reason. She was my protector, my champion. I was her dependent, a ten year old, under weight boy who flinched when a chair scraped the floor boards or a car horn sounded in the street. A boy who still pissed the sheets when he heard the dull thud of a whiskey bottle hitting the rug and the click of his bedroom door as it slowly opened wide, allowing the demon that was daddy loose in the room.
She’d said no and remained my armour, and I swore that as I grew older, stronger I would take the baton and protect her as she’d protected me. But the opportunity never came. Ol’ Jack turned daddy old before his time, made him decrepit and impotent and in this Lindsey, amazing Lindsey, dumfounded as she usually did by giving up any hope of college to support daddy in his long suffering journey. I suspected pleasure in her actions, retribution. I told her my thoughts once. And she’d slowly shaken her head.
“I’m not looking after the man who beat on us, John,” she’d said. “I’m looking after the man before mamma died. The kind and gentle man who loved his family.”
A man I didn’t know.
Mother had died before I could walk. She was a shadow in my mind, given form in the pictures hidden in the cellar for a lifetime, until Lindsey rescued them and placed them on the dresser in her room. Initially Daddy Dearest was too consumed with his grief to allow it. Then he became too consumed by Ol’ Jack to care. For him it was medicine. For me it was just an excuse to camouflage the meanness.
When I heard he was sick at his own hands it pleased me. No one, it seemed, was immune to daddy’s abuse. Over the years he’d even managed to fuck up his own body as well as ours. The night Lindsey called and told me that she thought daddy was dying part of me screamed out with joy. But another part, the part still wearing the bruises and the fear and the guilt, began whimpering like a hungry, mangy cur searching for scraps.
“You need to come, John,” her soft voice said through the grilled plastic of the receiver. “He’s really sick.”
“The guy has always been sick.” I toyed with the Zippo in the pocket of my jeans and wondered if I’d used all my smokes.
