Terror Beyond The Night

Terror Beyond The Night
by
Raman Jalota

    The Gargoyles on top of the Schlenz Mansion flexed their muscles and broke out of their iron and stone shells. A hundred years. That had been their curse. And now they were free to once again feed and grow and rule the world. The gargoyle on the left looked at the one on the right and nodded his head in some kind of a signal. They both swooped down and picked two humans off the grounds below. As they flew up, holding the humans in their claws, they gnawed on their chests and tore their hearts out. The two bodies went sailing down, still thrashing in agony with the memory of their deaths screaming in their dying brains.
    "Oh boy, alright, this is good stuff." Joanne moved away from the computer and picked up the ice tea from the desk. Leaning back she drank contently. Only Joanne could drink this strange ice tea she had grown to love in Malaysia. Ice tea loaded with thick cream and sugar. "Back to my friends the gargoyles," she continued typing furiously.
    Leonard stared at the bathroom mirror, petrified. He had crossed over into the world on the other side of the mirror again except this time he could not remember his way back. Screaming and running from the giant green lizards he backed into the church and through the stained glass window. The priest smiled at him as Leonard crawled back into reality. "I better write this stuff down." He brushed his teeth and went running to the kitchen to find his writing pad.
    The images were horrifyingly real and he wrote his inner thoughts as his mind screamed in terror. The lizards were snapping at his heals as he hurried to finish the first three paragraphs.
    Cathy sat at her computer desk, bored. "I have to write something good, this month." She talked to herself. "O.K. see, there was this little green fish, you see. The little green fish loved little kids and the town folks loved the little green fish. She would jump out of the river and pet little kids and play with the boats as people oohed and ahhed in admiration. But, she kept her eyes open for those little delicious kids that would walk away from others and she would drag them down into the river, drowning them, their screams bubbling up to the surface unheard.
    She would drag the fresh carcass to her cave and share the feast with her brothers and sisters and cousins and aunts and nephews.
    "Yes, that's what I need to write. A children's story with a horrifying twist that makes it the best horror story in the world." She banged away at her computer happily.
    RJ woke up groggily and stared at Samantha in disbelief. She seemed to be licking her hand like a cat. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and stumbled into the bathroom. "Damn those beers. I can't see straight."
    He dressed quickly and got in the car.
    "Oh shit, I forgot the quarterly report." He ran back into the house, found the report on the dresser and running out he saw his nightmare from the corner of his eyes. Samantha was sitting on top of the dining table, lapping up the cereal from the bowl, like a cat. Not just any cat, but the dark cat of his dreams, who had been sneaking into his mind and clawing at his neck for his blood.

.....

    Sam Hayworth sat at his desk feeling the weight of his genius on his shoulders. The sign read, "Samuel Hayworth, editor in chief". It might as well have read, "Master of the known universe."
    "How beautiful this power." He thought. If I don't like a story from the first page ... no not the first page ... the first paragraph ... naah ... not the first paragraph, but the first sentence. If I don't like the first sentence, the damn story goes back to those pathetic little excuses that call themselves writers. Huh .. the nerve of these lowly idiots, pretending to be writers ... aspiring to be published in my magazine ... huh ... "Terror Beyond The Night" ... the best damned horror magazine west of China. He twirled his mustache in his own glory and reached for the next story in the inn basket.
    "The Realm of the hell hole" by Tex ...
    "Who cares" He said and turned the cover page over.
    "Jesse and his capturer with the semi automatic pushed themselves against the wall of the cave under the ledge. "What do you think was that sound?" the gunman whispered.
    "Sounded like a gun shot with a silencer to me." Jesse moved slightly out from the shadow of the ledge, careful not to make a sound and sneaked a peak at the top of the ledge. Two beautiful young females clad in bikinis and handguns were standing on top of the ledge, a little bit bewildered."
    "A loud order came floating up,"Drop your guns or you are dead meat."
    "Jesse felt the gun in his back as his capturer pushed him to take a look at what was going on. The two females with their perfect bodies were looking around, apparently unable to locate the source of the sound. Slowly they dropped their guns.
    "Good, now I want you to take your tops off .... slowly and carefully. One false move and you are dead." Jesse licked his lips in anticipation of a heavenly sight."
    Sam Jackson spat,"What stupid trash" and threw the story on the floor. The story sailed ungracefully down on top of the big heap of rejects.
    He reached for the intercom,"Come here, Miss Clair."
    A middle aged woman with reading glasses hanging with a chain from her neck, walked in nervously,"Yes sir, Mister Hayworth."
    "Why do I have to go through this garbage, miss Clair?"
    "Well sir, the junior editors picked these stories to be the best of the bunch, sir. They consider some of them to have some potential ... maybe with a little rewrite ..." she murmured.
    "What crap, look at this." He picked up "Beyond the looking glass zone". See this story Miss Clair? Look how I can tell trash from good stories. See that staple on the top left hand corner?'
    "Yes sir?" She didn't understand what he was getting at.
    "Look at this. It's stapled parallel to the top edge, that shows unpolished writing. A real writer would staple it at exactly forty five degrees. Here, let me see ..."
    He dug through the pile and picked up another story ... neatly stapled at forty five degrees, allowing for a perfect overlap of the pages as they were folded.
    "You are indeed so right sir. I had never thought of that before."
    "O.K. Get me a gin and tonic. I am getting a headache from all this trash."

.....

    The third gin and tonic had still not improved his mood. He walked to the window overlooking the New York coastline and gazed at the distant sea. A black cat sitting on the ledge caught his eye. How did this cat get up to the thirty-seventh floor he wondered.
    The cat locked her eyes into Sam's and leaped through the window, into his office. The glass melted away where Natasha the cat might have hit the window and sealed behind her as she landed in the office. Sam stared in disbelief,"I didn't really see that, did I?"
    The cat stretched and jumped landing on top of his desk staring at him a foot away.
    "God damn cat. Get out of here." he screamed.
    Natasha unsheathed her claws slowly, as he stared unmoving. In one slashing motion Natasha struck at his neck leaving three parallel cuts, four inches long. Blood spurting he screamed for Clair. Natasha opened her mouth and focused on his neck, he screamed and fainted.

.....

    "What happened to you Mr. Hayworth?"
    "A cat jumped into my office, through the window and attacked me." He ran his hand over his neck, a bandage covered the gashes on his neck.
    "Are you sure sir? Your secretary found you lying on the floor bleeding, broken glass pieces around you; apparently from the glass you had been drinking from. Do you recall stumbling and falling over the glass?"
    "What's wrong with you people? I wasn't drunk. There was this cat ... Oh! to hell with all of you."
    He sat on the hospital bed wondering if he really just got drunk and fell. No, the cat was too real. It was like that story he had rejected, a man losing his mind because his wife is turning into a cat or some such stupid premise. He shook his head. No it can't be happening. Stories coming alive. No way.

.....

    He walked into his office cautiously. A dozen roses were on his desk. The card was from the whole office welcoming him back. He recognized Clair's handwriting but didn't say anything to her.
    He looked at the window. Still intact. And so was the New York shoreline. He sat down in his chair and with his chin in his hands leaned over the desk, contemplating piles of fresh and old manuscripts.
    How many of these had he rejected; a hundred thousand?... a million, ... ten millions? He didn't know. He may have dashed more spirits into the ground than he could remember. And what about the stories themselves? Could the stories seek revenge ... like the last one had. What nonsense, he shook his head and reached for the minutes of the last week's strategy meeting.
    "Dull reading, isn't it?" the voice was feminine, crisp and sexy.
    He looked up to see two women in bikini walking into his office. As Clair, with her hands waving feebly tried to come in after them, one of them banged the door shut in her face. The two stopped in front of his desk.
    "You ready to have some fun, Sam?"
    Sam licked his lips. He couldn't believe what was happening, but this was a better gift than the stupid roses. "Any time baby."
    "Take your tops off .... slowly and carefully. One false move and you are dead." An echoing voice boomed in his office.
    "Who is that?" Sam looked around. He couldn't understand. But the girls were disrobing. He got up and walked to the front of the desk. As he fondled their breasts, the women swept the desk clean and pushed him on top. He closed his eyes as the two slithered across his body in a vaguely synchronized fashion.   Their skin was hard, he could feel their muscles as they intertwined their bodies with his. A tension was building up across his waist and he opened his eyes.
    A two headed snake was coiled around him and its twin forked tongues were hissing at his eyes. The coil became tighter and tighter, killing the screams in his throat.

.....

    "What happened to me?" Sam tried to ask the nurse. His throat hurt like hell but he needed to find out. She gave him a pad and he scribbled his question.
    "You must have dozed off in the middle of work. Apparently you had your pen in your mouth and you fell on the desk, the pen ruptured your throat almost killing you. I guess you were not quite ready to go back to work yet. You better recover fully this time. You hear."
    He nodded his head. I wasn't working. I was going to have sex with the two bikini clad ... serpent with two heads ... what the hell was I dreaming. No, that was not a dream either ... could they have been the girls from the manuscript I had thrown away ... another story seeking its revenge. He tossed and turned fearfully.

.....

    "Come here, Missy, see what grandpa got for you?" Sam sat in the wheel chair near the roses and played with his grand daughter.
    His two Shiatsu dogs ran around energetically chasing the little three year old and chasing butterflies across his mansion. His daughter sat smiling by the pond.
    "Come here Missy. See the beautiful red fish. All those little fishshies."
    She walked to her father's side and sat on one of the lawn chairs,"Missy calls fish.... fishshies, isn't that cute?"
    Sam loved his only daughter. It had been hard forgiving her for marrying that bum, but when Missy was born. Everything was forgiven.
    "See her run, with those cute little shoes."
    "I just got her those. They are 'Nikes'."
    "They make them for kids."
    "Yes dad, they make them for everyone."
    Missy had run to be with the shiatsu's who were barking at the fish in the pond. Missy smiled,"Fishshies ... nice green fishshies ..."
    She leaned over to pet the little green fish. It's mouth opened as it bit down on her hand and pulled her over with a very tiny splash. Missy was too surprised to scream and as she screamed water came gurgling down her throat, replacing the tiny life. The little green fish dragged the dying child to the deep end and through the bottom of the pond to her home. Another meal to be shared by her family.
    The most horrible event in his life had taken place and Sam was not even aware of it. It was only a few minutes later that he heard his daughter's panicky voice, screaming," Missy, where's Missy?"
    The two Shiatsu dogs barked excitedly at the fish. His heart in his mouth Sam leaned over looking in the pond. A tiny shoe burped its way to the surface and the ordeal began.

.....

    "Will I ever get over it?" He wondered. Sitting in his living room he looked towards the pond. The drained pond had only yielded the second Nike shoe but there was no sign of little Missy. His mind had heard the call to the little green fishshies, but his head had not fully made the connection to the story he had rejected recently. Two or three more weeks and everything should be back to normal. He kept telling himself,"It's only a matter of a little more time."
    The two Shiatsu came running to him and barked excitedly. "Well you two kids can go, I don't feel like going out yet." He opened the french door and let the dogs run in the yard. He watched them contentedly.
As he turned back towards his chair a grey figure swooped down from the sky, he noticed it from the corner of his eye. He turned around and watched in dismay, his little Shiatsu was in the talons of an ugly grey gargoyle and it took off slowly. As he moved to the french door, the second gargoyle swooped down on the remaining frightened dog and picked it up in its talons.
    Sam flung the door open and stared in horror as the gargoyles tore off the hearts of the dogs and dropped their dying bodies down in the yard. He ran inside as he heard more strange noises. He locked the door staring at the tall green lizard that was moving towards him. Its tail waving rhythmically behind its back as it waddled on its way.
    "My God, what the hell is going on."
    A clear voice answered,"Its your rejections Sam. They have all come alive. And they insist on their pound of flesh. You can only bury them for so long. Your time's up Sam Hayworth, Editor in chief."
    "Oh no. I won't let anything in here." He made sure the door was locked.
    Still curious he looked from behind the curtail, the lizard was half way between the living room and the pond. It was all so clear. A cool breeze had started blowing.
    "Cool breeze!" He screamed.
    He had slipped through the glass and was in the backyard only fifteen feet away from the giant lizard. How did he do it? How did he slip through the glass? What was the key? I must think clearly ... yes, concentrate and restore the pieces in the picture to their original places and I would be able to slip back through. Concentrate he told himself. The lizard flicked its tongue and tasted fresh living flesh ahead, it opened its mouth fully to devour Sam, the tasty editor in chief and his terror beyond the night.

The End   2748 words

Copyright © 2004 Raman Jalota. All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.

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