Let me tell you a secret. It’s a naughty secret, a nasty secret. It will chill you to your bones.
Let me whisper it softly in your ear. Come on, you can’t resist. Can you?
Now remember, this is an important secret. If you tell, it will change the world as we know it. Yes. It’s that important.
And trust me, only you will know.
I have faith in you, my friend, to keep this secret to yourself, forever more.
Are you ready?
Are you sure?
…
…
…
The tooth fairy is Santa Claus in drag.
I spend all my time stepping over boxes. I’m always on the move. Packing and packing some more, stepping over boxes to get to other boxes – organizing what goes in here and which part goes in there.
The ones with the heads leak a lot.
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Ah, your screams are music to my ears. That is to say I love to frighten you outta your erps. What does that mean, exactly, you ask?
Well, some may say I’m trying to scare the fear out of you. “E”xposure and “R”esponse “P”revention, like. Meaning the more I expose you to having your wits jump right outta your skull, the more you’ll come to expect it and therefore, not be so fearful.
On the other hand, when my dad used to say it to me, many years ago, I don’t know if that sort of therapy was in practice. Maybe he just thought it sounded funny.
So I’ll keep doin’ it. Scarin’ you outta your erps. Just for laughs.
What’s a momma for, after all?
It hangs down hairy and warm
The sac between his legs
with which he scares the girls
in their twenty-something business suits
as they rush home on the train
He sits in his window and smiles
as the faces flash by
up level with the el
his beard drips
honeycoffeesnot
What he has and what he has not
are in essence the same
For his penile futility
once celebrated in slithering porn
is backdropped only by the sac
with which he scares the girls.
“Have you ever noticed that geese, from a distance, sound like dogs barking?” he asks me as he lifts his glass of wine to his lips.
“No,” I reply, thinking him stupid. Really I want to stab him through the heart, but not really. I know I’ll regret it if I do.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks.
“I don’t know, dear. We’re on vacation. The world is our oyster.”
Maybe I’ll strangle you while you sleep and then I can go out on the boat by myself tomorrow and not have to listen to you whine about how much the cottage costs us per month and how much your shoulder hurts when you paddle.
“Maybe we should go out in the boat,” he says.
“That sounds like a good idea, dear,” I reply.
Deep in the interior of Algonquin Park , far from civilization, Ty and Dennis stiffly lifted the canoe off their shoulders and dropped it as gently as their aching muscles would allow. Neither were used to the stress that alternately paddling and portaging had on their bodies. Having known each other only three days, neither wanted to be the first to admit eight hours was enough. It was their first day out. They had met through an online match-up site for 20something year old extreme campers and paired up. This particular trail, brutal as it was, wasn’t to be attempted alone.
“I’m thirsty, how ’bout you?” Ty asked, shrugging the water container from his shoulder.
“Sure.”
“Not much left.” Ty shook the bottle. “Maybe we’d better build a fire and boil some.”
Dennis nodded. “Good idea. I’ll collect the wood.”
“By the time we get the fire going it’s gonna start getting dark,” Ty said, looking up at the sky. The sun was mid way to sunset.
“You got a point. Wanna start setting up camp?”
“I’ll go take a piss then I’ll help you with the wood.”
“Sure,” Dennis said.
/////
At full dark, their water cooled and stored, dinner done and half their single bottle of scotch consumed, they sat beside the fire.
“So, you got a girlfriend?” Dennis asked.
“Nope, you?”
Dennis shook his head. “Not that I don’t want one…”
Ty nodded and looked down at his hands. “I got a little confession to make.”
Dennis looked at him sharply, poising to defend himself.
Ty laughed. “Little fuckin’ homophobic are ya?” He stood up and unzipped his fly and laughed again as Dennis shuffled his ass backwards on the log he was perched on.
“Don’t worry man, I’m only jokin’ ya.” He pulled up his fly and reseated himself. His demeanor turned serious. “I wish that’s all it was.”
“So, what is it then?”
“Do you like campfire stories Dennis?”
“Sure.”
“Have I got a doozy for you,” Ty grimaced. “You see, I’ve got these imaginary friends. Two of them.”
“Will they help with the canoe?” Dennis joked, the smile quickly falling from his face when Ty growled.
“They don’t carry canoes. It’s not a fuckin’ joke. They get into my dreams, they follow me around. I don’t want them, they’re just there. They make fun of me, make me choke on my food…” He leaned toward Dennis and whispered. “They jerk me off every night when I go to bed.”
Dennis cleared his throat and began to stack the dinner plates.
“Dennis.”
“What?” He didn’t look up from what he was doing.
“They’re here.”
“Okay man, knock it off. If this is your idea of a campfire story it’s not funny.”
“It’s not.”
“Glad you agree.”
“I mean it’s not just a campfire story. It’s true. They’ve been with me since I was a teenager.”
“Well you don’t have to tell me about it. I’m not fuckin’ interested man.” Dennis said as he walked away from the fire. “I’m going to take a crap.”
“I do have to tell you Dennis!” Ty called after him. “They want you too!”
“What did you say?” he asked, turning back.
Ty grinned. “Hurry up and take your crap and I’ll tell you what we’re really doing out here.”
“What the living fuck are you talking about? Are you threatening me?”
Ty held his palms up. “Not me, man. It’s all them.”
“For fuck’s sakes.” Dennis mumbled, walking away.
\\\\\
Dennis had a hard time finding his way back to the camp. After wandering around for a while in the dark he finally came across the smouldering remains of the fire. Ty was moving around in the single three-man tent they had brought along and Dennis cursed himself silently for not bringing his own. As he stepped toward the tent he stopped short. For a second he saw the ghostly figure of a man standing beside it.
Imagining things, he mumbled, sneering at himself. Fuckin’ Ty.
Thinking it better not to sleep beside a crazy man unarmed, he did a u-turn toward the canoe to retrieve a fish-gutting knife from inside the tool sack he had packed. He took one last look around the campsite and dropped to his knees in front of the tent door. He heard giggling. Male giggling. Squeezing his eyes shut he took a breath. With one hand on the handle of the knife in its sheath, attached to his belt he opened the flap.
Ty flicked on a flashlight, illuminating the tent.
“Hey Dennis, come and join us.”
Entirely nude, Ty sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag. Beside him was a man of about the same age and height as the two 20somethings, equally naked, smiling, and slowly jacking off both himself and Ty.
At the same time Dennis screamed, he pulled the small knife from its sheath and backed up. He was about to stand when he heard another man’s voice behind him.
“Mind if I join the party?”
By the time Dennis hit the other sleeping bag face-first he heard the laughter.
“Gotcha!” Ty taunted him. “I met these guys when I went to take a piss!”
Dennis could hear shuffling around inside the tent beside him but the naked men, the embarrassment of being scared, and the scoffing were the least of his worries. He didn’t even feel the pain. At first he thought he’d pissed himself. Then as the world went black, he realized he’d stabbed himself in the groin with the knife.
/////
“FUCK!!!! What the fuck are we going to do now? He fucking killed himself!!!” Ty, dressed in his jeans, sat beside the warm corpse of the man he’d met less than 4 days ago and stared at the blood that covered his hands and dripped from his elbows.
“Fucked if I know. I’m outta here,” said the naked man as he crawled toward the tent door.
“Wait! You can’t leave me now!” Ty screamed into the dark, watching the naked man, along with his companion, disappear into the darkness.
“You promised us fresh meat,” the naked man called back. “Fuck you.”
“But who’s going to carry the canoe?”
“You said it yourself,” said the fading voice. “We don’t carry canoes.”
English: Fishing rods on Worthing Pier
I’m just an average Joe. I like fishin’ and layin’ around in the back yard. I like working with my hands and taking long walks down by the pier.
In fact I was down there just the other day. There was this guy with a bottle in a brown paper bag, staggering about and yelling at seagulls. I exchanged a knowing look at a couple of younger guys who were sitting on the dock with their fishing rods. I laughed, they laughed. It was one of those moments, you know? Doesn’t matter that we’d never seen each other before. Sometimes you just know what another guy is thinking.
Later that night I decided to go back. It hadn’t been a terrific day by the pier and I thought maybe the night would be quieter. I was strollin’ along and what do you know, the drunk guy was still there. I could hear him before I even got to the dock, yelling at the fish this time. What was even crazier, the same two young guys were there! Only they weren’t fishin’ this time, they were just hangin’ out drinkin’ beer on the grass beside the water.
I looked at them and they looked at me. It was just one of those moments, you know? They got up and joined me the rest of the way down to the pier and it wasn’t long before we caught up to the drunk. Man, did he splash about! It wasn’t easy – he was pretty strong for a guy who’d been drinkin’ all day. But together, the three of us got the job done.
I tell ya, sometimes you just know what another guy is thinking.
I thought it was my lucky day. I stood in line counting and then recounting the avocados in my basket. The label on the dark green plastic net bag said ‘5 Avocados’ but there was, without a doubt, six inside. I love vegetables. I paid for them without mentioning my good fortune to the cashier and left the store. That was a week ago. Yesterday everything started to go downhill.
It was lunchtime. The sixth and final avocado looked fine. It felt a little soft but when I cut into it
kkkkkkkkkkkk
and twisted the two halves apart it looked and smelled perfect. Green and firm. The seed wasn’t too big or too
kkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
small. I think it was the spoon, when it came into kkkkkkkcontact with the seed that I first heard it. It sounded like static from a radio speaker. I half ekkkkkkxpected to see sparks, but that was silly.
My avocado tasted wonderful. I would go as far to say it may have been the best avokk kkcado I’ve ever had.
*****
The twitch started an hour after I finished eating my lunkk kkch. The statikkkkkkkkkc which was coming from the outside is now in my head. I thinkkkkkkk the avokk kk kkcado might have been bad after all. Wait, no. I thought the avokkcado might have been bad. Now I think it’s it’s was
kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
The staticcccckk kk in my head is getting worse by the minute.
Kk kk kkill them
I’m going to the store.
*********
The kkkkccreature is large and kkkccumbersome but it has arms and le kk kk kkk gs that are useful. It ckkkkccan also drive a kkkkkccc automobile.
I ckk kk kkan’t see very well. It’s likkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkke my eyes are shaded and I thinkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
kk kk seeds for eyes yes and we kk kk kkilled them all
I thinkkkk I did something terrible at the st kkore. There was blood everywhere in the vegetable aisle. I tried to warn them not to buy avo
kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk SHUT UP! I’m a fruit you idiot!
cados but who would thinkk kkk kkkk kkkkkk kkkkk
*****
“Honey? Are you home? I brought Mike over to… holy shit that’s a big vegetable. You hungry Mike?”
There’s nothing quite worse than having an olde friende that you just…can’t…seem to reach, try as you might. I have such a friend. He was a lover, once.
Ah yes, the fun we had. Frolicking and making love where ever we pleased. In back alleys and in the beds of whores as they bled out. Those were the days.
But that was quite literally centuries ago. For a vampyre however it feels like just yesterday. I would choke a nun to have just one more night with him. Funny, I say that just like mortals like to pretend they could eat a horse. Have you ever tried to eat a horse? Not as easy as it might seem.
But I digress.
My olde friende is out there. I can feel him in my blood. In my balls.
Come to me, my love. Let us kill again. Together.
If I can just get it straight.. he thought, slurping back the drool that had pooled again in the corner of his mouth.
The slip was fine, cut thin sliced nicely into her flesh. Her gag a prop – it made her feel better, as though she was a victim instead of a willing participant.
“Almost finished my love,” he said. Hard as a rock, he throbbed with longing. It had been at least fifty minutes since he began.
As the blade reached the point of the pentagram she let out a whine. He glanced at her.
“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”
She nodded emphatically.
“Good girl,” he smiled.
He placed the sharp tip of the knife at the point and lifted the flesh. She whined louder and he licked his lips in anticipation.
“May I?” he asked. He wasn’t sure now. He’d never taken this final step with her. She was scarred from collarbone to feet, but never like this.
Her eyes pleaded with him but told him nothing. He wouldn’t take it off without her consent. He waited, pulsating with the beat of his heart.
Even as the tears streamed down her flushed cheeks she nodded. It wasn’t good enough. He pulled on the fabric of her gag and she closed her mouth and swallowed.
“Say it,” he whispered.
Her smile was grateful, her voice raspy with need. “Flay me.”
He replaced the gag and stood. He straddled her body and bent at the waist. He leaned over her, the light still shining directly on her skin, her blood glistening.
He placed his blade flat against her shoulder and began the slip.
Time stood still when he performed this way. Slowly at first until he found his depth, his art smelled like copper and screamed of molten pleasure both for himself and his subject. Closer and closer he came with each tip, until all five were begun. By the time he reached the centre of the star he could all but taste it. The five points lifted, curled back, he stepped away and admired his work.
He bent down to gaze into her glazed over eyes, knowing that the adrenaline did the same to his.
“Are you ready, my love?”
She smiled past her gag and nodded. He placed the blade at her cheek and she pushed against it, cutting herself a fine line. A single drop of blood hung, suspended from the bottom of the slice.
All at once he stood he lifted he slipped she screamed he roared he came she came it was done.
He loved his job.
Linda G. Hill 