lock clank behind him. This wasn’t right.
He can tell this man is not a lawyer or a cop; he is a predator in a black leather trench coat. His eyes widen a bit, giving away his panic.
The man at the table smiles at him charmingly. The smell of fear like this is always an added bonus. “Hello there, Calvin. My name’s Garrett. You know something… or someone really, that I need to know more about. Have a seat.”
Garrett points to the chair and Calvin walks briskly over and sits down. Now he’s gone beyond fear. He’s deep in the throes of terror.
“I’d offer you a cigarette, but these days even the jails are nonsmoking.” He lets a sharp sigh. “Almost seems sacrilegious, doesn’t it? No more last smoke for the condemned man.”
Calvin doesn’t answer, as Garrett leans closer to him. Not only is he not in control of his body, it seems that this man is, and he can’t even scream for help. He can only stare into the man’s eyes in panic and pray silently in his head. He’s sure he’s about to die.
“Look deeply into my eyes. Lose yourself. This won’t hurt a bit. I just want your mind.”
***
The little girl’s eyes dart from side to side. She brushes the dirty, caked on black hair from her forehead and tries to stand, hitting her head on the top of her cage.
Somewhere in the distance a howl goes up. It’s a menacing sound, and – worse -- it’s definitely not an animal.
Her delicate hands wrap around the bars of her tiny prison, and she squints, determined to make out what is in the darkness around her.
It’s pitch-black, and smells of stagnant water. She knows there is something in the inky thickness that is tightly constricted around her, watching her. Something is there and it means to hurt her, and she is wet with a panicked sweat.
She lets go of a bar with one hand and darts her eyes quickly from looking down at her pocket to scanning the dark around her, not wanting to give whatever is there an opportunity to strike at her unaware. She fumbles in her pocket and finally finds what she was looking for.
Yanking her hand back up to head level, she holds out a brass key.
“Help me!”
***
My dreams are getting worse. For a ghost, Rachel haunts me more when she’s not around than when she is. It took months to adjust to having a child in the house, even if she is dead, and now the silence is strange. I want so badly to hear her playing or watching cartoons. Everywhere I look I feel her influence, things she’s touched, or questions she’s asked. If I don’t get that girl back soon I think I’ll lose my mind.
I throw on my clothes and head downstairs, thankful to be back home. There’s plenty of action, noise, and pleasant odors when the wealthy degenerates come to play. At least this much is as it should be.
Walking through the front sitting room it stands out that Julie isn’t there, and Leslie is filling in for her. Maybe she went out for food or something, but it’s not normal for her to go out with letting me know first.
The kitchen door swings shut behind me and I grab a bottle out of the warmer. Checking the time/date sticker a contented sigh escapes me. It doesn’t get any fresher without using my fangs. It’s a bit piggy of me, but I down the whole damned thing. Julie will get more, and she won’t mind. I’ll just feel bad, knowing I made her work a little harder.
I head out the back door and into the garage where I’m met with a sad and sorry fact. I own six cars and not one of them is here. Not even my ’72 VW. How does this even happen?
I pull out my phone and call Julie. If she left, she almost certainly took a car, and since she and I are the only ones who like to drive the VW, I’m guessing she’s in it.
Three more times I try. No answer. I don’t like this.
I’m pondering my next step, thinking I’ll call Frank, when he pulls into the driveway in my Charger. He idles up next to me slowly, with a big smile.
As soon as he’s out of the door, I’m
He can tell this man is not a lawyer or a cop; he is a predator in a black leather trench coat. His eyes widen a bit, giving away his panic.
The man at the table smiles at him charmingly. The smell of fear like this is always an added bonus. “Hello there, Calvin. My name’s Garrett. You know something… or someone really, that I need to know more about. Have a seat.”
Garrett points to the chair and Calvin walks briskly over and sits down. Now he’s gone beyond fear. He’s deep in the throes of terror.
“I’d offer you a cigarette, but these days even the jails are nonsmoking.” He lets a sharp sigh. “Almost seems sacrilegious, doesn’t it? No more last smoke for the condemned man.”
Calvin doesn’t answer, as Garrett leans closer to him. Not only is he not in control of his body, it seems that this man is, and he can’t even scream for help. He can only stare into the man’s eyes in panic and pray silently in his head. He’s sure he’s about to die.
“Look deeply into my eyes. Lose yourself. This won’t hurt a bit. I just want your mind.”
***
The little girl’s eyes dart from side to side. She brushes the dirty, caked on black hair from her forehead and tries to stand, hitting her head on the top of her cage.
Somewhere in the distance a howl goes up. It’s a menacing sound, and – worse -- it’s definitely not an animal.
Her delicate hands wrap around the bars of her tiny prison, and she squints, determined to make out what is in the darkness around her.
It’s pitch-black, and smells of stagnant water. She knows there is something in the inky thickness that is tightly constricted around her, watching her. Something is there and it means to hurt her, and she is wet with a panicked sweat.
She lets go of a bar with one hand and darts her eyes quickly from looking down at her pocket to scanning the dark around her, not wanting to give whatever is there an opportunity to strike at her unaware. She fumbles in her pocket and finally finds what she was looking for.
Yanking her hand back up to head level, she holds out a brass key.
“Help me!”
***
My dreams are getting worse. For a ghost, Rachel haunts me more when she’s not around than when she is. It took months to adjust to having a child in the house, even if she is dead, and now the silence is strange. I want so badly to hear her playing or watching cartoons. Everywhere I look I feel her influence, things she’s touched, or questions she’s asked. If I don’t get that girl back soon I think I’ll lose my mind.
I throw on my clothes and head downstairs, thankful to be back home. There’s plenty of action, noise, and pleasant odors when the wealthy degenerates come to play. At least this much is as it should be.
Walking through the front sitting room it stands out that Julie isn’t there, and Leslie is filling in for her. Maybe she went out for food or something, but it’s not normal for her to go out with letting me know first.
The kitchen door swings shut behind me and I grab a bottle out of the warmer. Checking the time/date sticker a contented sigh escapes me. It doesn’t get any fresher without using my fangs. It’s a bit piggy of me, but I down the whole damned thing. Julie will get more, and she won’t mind. I’ll just feel bad, knowing I made her work a little harder.
I head out the back door and into the garage where I’m met with a sad and sorry fact. I own six cars and not one of them is here. Not even my ’72 VW. How does this even happen?
I pull out my phone and call Julie. If she left, she almost certainly took a car, and since she and I are the only ones who like to drive the VW, I’m guessing she’s in it.
Three more times I try. No answer. I don’t like this.
I’m pondering my next step, thinking I’ll call Frank, when he pulls into the driveway in my Charger. He idles up next to me slowly, with a big smile.
As soon as he’s out of the door, I’m
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