Free Short Story - changed every season (solstice and equinox) - Thanks for your interest!
Warning - Mature Content - V, AS
Just Another Horror Story
by
Kathleen Spalding
Amy stifled a squeal when Dan called and invited her to Seattle for the Grungefest. There’d be a non-stop party at his place. All his American friends would be there. Sparks shot through her body just imagining Grungefest’s lineup, with classics like Duncemore, Polly Titian, and her favorite, WhipChain, who’s super-low electronic bass could punch through Earth’s atmosphere and numb an astronaut’s brain with precision timing.
Her boss agreed to give her Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off. That week she floated through work at the restaurant, getting orders wrong and refunding money with a smile that was all about the upcoming weekend, not customer satisfaction. By Wednesday afternoon, her boss told her to take Thursday off, too.
She spent the day going through her jewelry box, selecting a dozen onyx and silver hoops for her ears, black crystal studs for eyebrows, nose, and bellybutton, chunky rings for her fingers and toes... Would Dan notice the tarnished silver broach he’d given her last year, now pinned to her faded jeans jacket? She ran a finger over the worn metal, feeling its age, wondering what the deeply stamped runes meant, remembering how Dan’s sea-green eyes had glowed beneath dark brows when he'd pinned it on her and said, “There, to protect your heart.”
On her stereo, the dubstep dropped. The windows of her small apartment buzzed to the frantic bass as she packed. Her neighbors pounded on the wall to no avail.
Amy rose two hours before the sun on Friday morning. Jewelry in place, she checked her multicolored hair and grabbed her overnight bag before dashing out the door. She jogged, relishing the crisp air, and arrived at Vancouver's central station within twenty minutes, early enough to beat the morning rush.
***
Dan’s friends welcomed Amy like family, giving her hugs and 'how are you's, and laughing as they bellowed out over the pounding music, "Hey Dan, another Canadian's here, eh."
Tendrils of smoke hung in the upper reaches of the ceiling, and the room smelled like fresh party with a healthy mix of booze and snacks. She recognized some people from Saskatchewan, and the Rodriguez brothers who ran an organic farm outside Seattle. New Age Ned's beard was down to his waist now. He was working on his third Ph.D. despite, or maybe because of, the legendary amount of cannabis he smoked.
Amy spotted Dan weaving through the crowd in his living room. All the oxygen seemed to rush toward him. She fought to breathe as he swallowed her in a bear hug.
“Thank you for coming,” he shouted in her ear, still holding her tight. His muscles rippled and his cheek was smooth against hers. She inhaled a deep breath of musky cologne.
“Ta for asking me!” she shouted and hugged him back, wondering if he could feel her heart thumping.
Evelyn from San Francisco arrived just then, arm-in-arm with a woman she introduced as her wife, Gloria. Their identical spiked, platinum-blonde hair glowed like dandelion seeds in the sun.
Amy noticed a trace of confusion on Dan’s face when he shook Gloria’s hand. Then she saw why. Gloria was wearing the tarnished rune ring that Dan had given to Evelyn last year.
Amy absently touched the rune that was pinned to her jacket. She remembered trying the ring on, and how disappointed she’d been to discover it was too big, even for her thumb.
Evelyn took Gloria’s hand and said, “Dan, the first thing Gloria ever said to me was ‘Cool ring.’ So when we got married, I gave it to her as a wedding band.”
“Awe, that’s so sweet,” Amy said.
“Yeah.” Dan smiled tightly. “Congratulations, you two.”
***
The party was three dozen strong when they left Dan’s Friday afternoon. They meandered along the sidewalk, revolving around each other like colliding star systems, while the rest of Seattle got on with its weekend. The aroma of lighter fluid and grilled steak floated from the city’s back yards directly into Amy’s nostrils. They finally arrived at a row of food trucks parked at Grungefest’s fringes.
Dan waved his arm and called out, “Okay everybody, if we get separated, I’ll be home to unlock the doors at eleven-thirty.”
If we get separated. Amy chuckled to herself, looking at the growing crowd. Hungry as I am right now, you won’t want to wait for me to finish eating. Salivating, she zeroed in on a hot, juicy bratwurst.
***
By Sunday night the music and throng had both pressed the group together and torn them apart. People stood shoulder-to-should in the trash-strewn venue. Amy couldn’t spot Dan or any of his friends except Evelyn and Gloria, and maybe Ned, but there were lots of bearded men at the concert, so it was hard to tell.
Spellbound Trolls led the closing line-up. Their soft electronic notes quieted the crowd then cheers broke out when fans recognized the introduction to See No Evil. Amy shivered as the music filled her. She yelled out “Yeees!” Ahead, to her right, Evelyn and Gloria danced in unison; two dandelion seeds bobbing in the breeze, arms raised, fingers snapping to See No Evil's beat.
The dubstep dropped. Amy didn’t know anything was wrong until a warm spray hit her and Evelyn fell to the ground like a rag doll. Amy reached down to help her up, pulled her limp body over, saw the bloody space where Evelyn’s face used to be, and started screaming. More people fell, staining the ground red. The crack, crack, crack of gunfire split the crowd.
***
Day and night were incommunicado when Amy woke up alone in Dan’s bed. The curtains were drawn. Black light posters lined the walls, glowing beneath UV lamps: a butterfly struggling out of its cocoon, wolves running, nature scenes morphing into erotica, they all seemed to pulse as music from the living room shook the mattress springs beneath her.
Amy got up on shaky legs and headed to Dan’s bathroom. Inspecting herself in the mirror, she didn’t look too dirty. She splashed her face with cold water, grimaced as she rinsed her mouth with Dan’s mouthwash, and helped herself to his deodorant. Finding her jacket on a chair by the bed, she pulled it on and staggered out the door.
Odors of stale smoke and alcohol made her stomach twist as she entered the living room. Heavy perfume did nothing to overpower the stench of fifty unwashed armpits.
Dan’s party was down to two dozen. A third of them slept in chairs and couches, some danced, and some were talking in small, tight-knit groups. To Amy’s left, three girls laughed in quiet hysterics as they decorated a sleeping Ned’s beard with flowers, ribbons, and small braids.
Dan smiled when he saw her. He was by her side in an instant.
“We’re down to vodka and cherry kool aid.” He grinned, pressing a plastic cup into her hands.
She took a drink, and another, calming as the music massaged her. Then she shuddered. Red liquid splashed onto her hand, raising images of the warm spray of gore that had been Evelyn’s brain.
“Why are we here?” she croaked.
“What?” Dan leaned closer.
“Why are we here? Evelyn’s dead! Where’s Gloria?” Tears coursed down Amy’s cheeks.
Dan frowned and left her, made his way to the stereo and turned it off. Standing beside the punchbowl he demanded, “Did anyone put roofies in the kool aid?”
“Nah, but here ya go,” a skinny youth tossed a plastic baggie at him.
Dan caught the baggie of pills but didn’t break eye contact with his guests. “I mean it. Did anybody spike this kool aid with anything except my bottle of vodka?”
All the people in the room shook their heads.
Dan scooped up a cup from the punchbowl. “If I taste or feel anything besides alcohol, this party is over, understood?” He took a deep drink.
Everyone nodded and Dan reached out to the stereo.
“Wait!” Amy scanned the room. “Has anyone seen Gloria? Or the other people who were here?”
Guests raised their eyebrows, looked around and shrugged. Amy picked up murmurs of “I don’t know many of Dan’s friends,” and “Which one was Gloria?”
Amy persisted. “Gloria and Evelyn? Identical platinum-blond hair, in spikes? Evelyn’s dead! She was shot! At least five people were bleeding on the ground where we were. Did anybody else from here get shot?”
They looked at Amy blankly then turned to each other with quiet questions, glancing back at her occasionally.
“Dan, how did I get back here?” she whispered.
“I found you standing on the sidewalk. You were pretty wiped out, went to sleep as soon as we got here and slept for two days. I figured you didn’t get much sleep over the weekend, so…”
Amy’s last nerve shattered as she searched her pockets for her phone and couldn’t find it. She looked up and pleaded, “Dan, please turn the TV on. It has to be all over the news.”
He nodded and turned the TV on to CNN. A reporter appeared on the screen, standing in front of a large brick building. A replay started, showing children fleeing.
“That’s not the concert,” a young woman said. “It’s just another school shooting. Yesterday’s news.” She yawned.
“But what about the shooting at the concert?” Amy asked. “How many people died?”
The woman shrugged. “The concert ended two days ago. I don’t remember a shooting.” The rest of the guests responded with nods and more shrugs.
A man wearing a turban looked up from his phone. “There’s nothing about it on the Internet. ”
Amy protested, “ You can't tell me that five people were murdered at a concert and no one noticed! How far back did you go? Did you look at yesterday’s news, or Sunday night’s?”
He kept scrolling. “Maybe it was gang-related, or a domestic. They don’t get much press, even if an innocent bystander gets killed.”
New Age Ned stirred in his sleep. A couple flowers dropped from his beard to the floor as he muttered, “Past, future, just illusion.”
Amy turned to him. “Ned, I thought I saw you. Were you there? Did you see Gloria and Evelyn?”
“Ain't no past. Only here and now.” He nodded off again.
“Ned--”
Dan walked back to her. “Amy --”
She gripped his arm. “Dan, why doesn’t anybody remember? You remember them, right?”
He looked perplexed. “Let’s go back to my room and sort this out,” he suggested.
Someone turned the stereo back on.
Words tumbled out of Amy’s mouth as they walked down the hallway to Dan’s bedroom. “You gave a rune ring to Evelyn last year. When they got here Friday, Gloria was wearing it. Evelyn told us how she’d given it to Gloria as a wedding band. Remember?”
Dan’s brows knitted together. “I gave the rune jewelry to people I cared about. Its molds were made from pieces of clay that had once been a single tablet--a prayer of protection, I was told. It took me three and a half years to give all the jewelry away...”
“But why don’t you remember Evelyn?” Amy hiccuped.
They entered Dan’s bedroom, with its glowing black light posters lining the walls. He rubbed the rune hanging from his neck then reached out and ran his hand along the zipper of Amy’s open jacket, touching the rune pinned to it, continuing down, reaching inside. “Maybe I don’t like to think about sad things.” He slipped his hand under her shirt and pulled her closer.
The dubstep dropped. She felt it throbbing in her bones, in her teeth. Here and now is all there is.
She gave in. To Dan, to the music, rejoicing as they thoroughly ravaged her body and mind. In the living room, the singer’s voice growled:
“Got no dreams, got no plan
Got a twenty-five second attention span
Shoot me down, more will stand
Twenty-first century American
Twenty-first century American!”
The End
Written for Fantasy Writers' current contest prompt, "someone remembers something that no one else remembers." Any suggestions for improving this story are welcome!
Just Another Horror Story
by
Kathleen Spalding
Amy stifled a squeal when Dan called and invited her to Seattle for the Grungefest. There’d be a non-stop party at his place. All his American friends would be there. Sparks shot through her body just imagining Grungefest’s lineup, with classics like Duncemore, Polly Titian, and her favorite, WhipChain, who’s super-low electronic bass could punch through Earth’s atmosphere and numb an astronaut’s brain with precision timing.
Her boss agreed to give her Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off. That week she floated through work at the restaurant, getting orders wrong and refunding money with a smile that was all about the upcoming weekend, not customer satisfaction. By Wednesday afternoon, her boss told her to take Thursday off, too.
She spent the day going through her jewelry box, selecting a dozen onyx and silver hoops for her ears, black crystal studs for eyebrows, nose, and bellybutton, chunky rings for her fingers and toes... Would Dan notice the tarnished silver broach he’d given her last year, now pinned to her faded jeans jacket? She ran a finger over the worn metal, feeling its age, wondering what the deeply stamped runes meant, remembering how Dan’s sea-green eyes had glowed beneath dark brows when he'd pinned it on her and said, “There, to protect your heart.”
On her stereo, the dubstep dropped. The windows of her small apartment buzzed to the frantic bass as she packed. Her neighbors pounded on the wall to no avail.
Amy rose two hours before the sun on Friday morning. Jewelry in place, she checked her multicolored hair and grabbed her overnight bag before dashing out the door. She jogged, relishing the crisp air, and arrived at Vancouver's central station within twenty minutes, early enough to beat the morning rush.
***
Dan’s friends welcomed Amy like family, giving her hugs and 'how are you's, and laughing as they bellowed out over the pounding music, "Hey Dan, another Canadian's here, eh."
Tendrils of smoke hung in the upper reaches of the ceiling, and the room smelled like fresh party with a healthy mix of booze and snacks. She recognized some people from Saskatchewan, and the Rodriguez brothers who ran an organic farm outside Seattle. New Age Ned's beard was down to his waist now. He was working on his third Ph.D. despite, or maybe because of, the legendary amount of cannabis he smoked.
Amy spotted Dan weaving through the crowd in his living room. All the oxygen seemed to rush toward him. She fought to breathe as he swallowed her in a bear hug.
“Thank you for coming,” he shouted in her ear, still holding her tight. His muscles rippled and his cheek was smooth against hers. She inhaled a deep breath of musky cologne.
“Ta for asking me!” she shouted and hugged him back, wondering if he could feel her heart thumping.
Evelyn from San Francisco arrived just then, arm-in-arm with a woman she introduced as her wife, Gloria. Their identical spiked, platinum-blonde hair glowed like dandelion seeds in the sun.
Amy noticed a trace of confusion on Dan’s face when he shook Gloria’s hand. Then she saw why. Gloria was wearing the tarnished rune ring that Dan had given to Evelyn last year.
Amy absently touched the rune that was pinned to her jacket. She remembered trying the ring on, and how disappointed she’d been to discover it was too big, even for her thumb.
Evelyn took Gloria’s hand and said, “Dan, the first thing Gloria ever said to me was ‘Cool ring.’ So when we got married, I gave it to her as a wedding band.”
“Awe, that’s so sweet,” Amy said.
“Yeah.” Dan smiled tightly. “Congratulations, you two.”
***
The party was three dozen strong when they left Dan’s Friday afternoon. They meandered along the sidewalk, revolving around each other like colliding star systems, while the rest of Seattle got on with its weekend. The aroma of lighter fluid and grilled steak floated from the city’s back yards directly into Amy’s nostrils. They finally arrived at a row of food trucks parked at Grungefest’s fringes.
Dan waved his arm and called out, “Okay everybody, if we get separated, I’ll be home to unlock the doors at eleven-thirty.”
If we get separated. Amy chuckled to herself, looking at the growing crowd. Hungry as I am right now, you won’t want to wait for me to finish eating. Salivating, she zeroed in on a hot, juicy bratwurst.
***
By Sunday night the music and throng had both pressed the group together and torn them apart. People stood shoulder-to-should in the trash-strewn venue. Amy couldn’t spot Dan or any of his friends except Evelyn and Gloria, and maybe Ned, but there were lots of bearded men at the concert, so it was hard to tell.
Spellbound Trolls led the closing line-up. Their soft electronic notes quieted the crowd then cheers broke out when fans recognized the introduction to See No Evil. Amy shivered as the music filled her. She yelled out “Yeees!” Ahead, to her right, Evelyn and Gloria danced in unison; two dandelion seeds bobbing in the breeze, arms raised, fingers snapping to See No Evil's beat.
The dubstep dropped. Amy didn’t know anything was wrong until a warm spray hit her and Evelyn fell to the ground like a rag doll. Amy reached down to help her up, pulled her limp body over, saw the bloody space where Evelyn’s face used to be, and started screaming. More people fell, staining the ground red. The crack, crack, crack of gunfire split the crowd.
***
Day and night were incommunicado when Amy woke up alone in Dan’s bed. The curtains were drawn. Black light posters lined the walls, glowing beneath UV lamps: a butterfly struggling out of its cocoon, wolves running, nature scenes morphing into erotica, they all seemed to pulse as music from the living room shook the mattress springs beneath her.
Amy got up on shaky legs and headed to Dan’s bathroom. Inspecting herself in the mirror, she didn’t look too dirty. She splashed her face with cold water, grimaced as she rinsed her mouth with Dan’s mouthwash, and helped herself to his deodorant. Finding her jacket on a chair by the bed, she pulled it on and staggered out the door.
Odors of stale smoke and alcohol made her stomach twist as she entered the living room. Heavy perfume did nothing to overpower the stench of fifty unwashed armpits.
Dan’s party was down to two dozen. A third of them slept in chairs and couches, some danced, and some were talking in small, tight-knit groups. To Amy’s left, three girls laughed in quiet hysterics as they decorated a sleeping Ned’s beard with flowers, ribbons, and small braids.
Dan smiled when he saw her. He was by her side in an instant.
“We’re down to vodka and cherry kool aid.” He grinned, pressing a plastic cup into her hands.
She took a drink, and another, calming as the music massaged her. Then she shuddered. Red liquid splashed onto her hand, raising images of the warm spray of gore that had been Evelyn’s brain.
“Why are we here?” she croaked.
“What?” Dan leaned closer.
“Why are we here? Evelyn’s dead! Where’s Gloria?” Tears coursed down Amy’s cheeks.
Dan frowned and left her, made his way to the stereo and turned it off. Standing beside the punchbowl he demanded, “Did anyone put roofies in the kool aid?”
“Nah, but here ya go,” a skinny youth tossed a plastic baggie at him.
Dan caught the baggie of pills but didn’t break eye contact with his guests. “I mean it. Did anybody spike this kool aid with anything except my bottle of vodka?”
All the people in the room shook their heads.
Dan scooped up a cup from the punchbowl. “If I taste or feel anything besides alcohol, this party is over, understood?” He took a deep drink.
Everyone nodded and Dan reached out to the stereo.
“Wait!” Amy scanned the room. “Has anyone seen Gloria? Or the other people who were here?”
Guests raised their eyebrows, looked around and shrugged. Amy picked up murmurs of “I don’t know many of Dan’s friends,” and “Which one was Gloria?”
Amy persisted. “Gloria and Evelyn? Identical platinum-blond hair, in spikes? Evelyn’s dead! She was shot! At least five people were bleeding on the ground where we were. Did anybody else from here get shot?”
They looked at Amy blankly then turned to each other with quiet questions, glancing back at her occasionally.
“Dan, how did I get back here?” she whispered.
“I found you standing on the sidewalk. You were pretty wiped out, went to sleep as soon as we got here and slept for two days. I figured you didn’t get much sleep over the weekend, so…”
Amy’s last nerve shattered as she searched her pockets for her phone and couldn’t find it. She looked up and pleaded, “Dan, please turn the TV on. It has to be all over the news.”
He nodded and turned the TV on to CNN. A reporter appeared on the screen, standing in front of a large brick building. A replay started, showing children fleeing.
“That’s not the concert,” a young woman said. “It’s just another school shooting. Yesterday’s news.” She yawned.
“But what about the shooting at the concert?” Amy asked. “How many people died?”
The woman shrugged. “The concert ended two days ago. I don’t remember a shooting.” The rest of the guests responded with nods and more shrugs.
A man wearing a turban looked up from his phone. “There’s nothing about it on the Internet. ”
Amy protested, “ You can't tell me that five people were murdered at a concert and no one noticed! How far back did you go? Did you look at yesterday’s news, or Sunday night’s?”
He kept scrolling. “Maybe it was gang-related, or a domestic. They don’t get much press, even if an innocent bystander gets killed.”
New Age Ned stirred in his sleep. A couple flowers dropped from his beard to the floor as he muttered, “Past, future, just illusion.”
Amy turned to him. “Ned, I thought I saw you. Were you there? Did you see Gloria and Evelyn?”
“Ain't no past. Only here and now.” He nodded off again.
“Ned--”
Dan walked back to her. “Amy --”
She gripped his arm. “Dan, why doesn’t anybody remember? You remember them, right?”
He looked perplexed. “Let’s go back to my room and sort this out,” he suggested.
Someone turned the stereo back on.
Words tumbled out of Amy’s mouth as they walked down the hallway to Dan’s bedroom. “You gave a rune ring to Evelyn last year. When they got here Friday, Gloria was wearing it. Evelyn told us how she’d given it to Gloria as a wedding band. Remember?”
Dan’s brows knitted together. “I gave the rune jewelry to people I cared about. Its molds were made from pieces of clay that had once been a single tablet--a prayer of protection, I was told. It took me three and a half years to give all the jewelry away...”
“But why don’t you remember Evelyn?” Amy hiccuped.
They entered Dan’s bedroom, with its glowing black light posters lining the walls. He rubbed the rune hanging from his neck then reached out and ran his hand along the zipper of Amy’s open jacket, touching the rune pinned to it, continuing down, reaching inside. “Maybe I don’t like to think about sad things.” He slipped his hand under her shirt and pulled her closer.
The dubstep dropped. She felt it throbbing in her bones, in her teeth. Here and now is all there is.
She gave in. To Dan, to the music, rejoicing as they thoroughly ravaged her body and mind. In the living room, the singer’s voice growled:
“Got no dreams, got no plan
Got a twenty-five second attention span
Shoot me down, more will stand
Twenty-first century American
Twenty-first century American!”
The End
Written for Fantasy Writers' current contest prompt, "someone remembers something that no one else remembers." Any suggestions for improving this story are welcome!
