Creepies 2: Things That go Bump in the Closet: Creepies, #2

Creepies 2

Things That go Bump in the Closet

By the WPaD Writers Group

(Writers, Poets and Deviants)

Copyright © 2015 WPaD Publications,

Acting publisher Mandy White, and all authors named in this book.

All Rights Reserved

All stories and poetry in this book remain the property of their respective authors.

No individual or agency other than those named may reproduce, copy or publish any part of this book in full or in part, in any medium printed or digital, without the expressed permission of the owner(s) of those works.

Cover art and illustration by Jason Kemp of Tenkara Studios, Toronto, Ontario

A special heartfelt thank-you to Jason Kemp for his tireless work designing the cover, which features his own hand-drawn art.

Spectacular work, Jason! Words cannot express how much we appreciate your talent and your valuable contribution to this book.

All our love,

The Authors of WPaD

Table of Contents

~ Bedtime Stories ~ Poetry by A.K. Wallace

Batz in the Belfry ~ by David Hunter

So Cute and Cuddly ~ by Michael Haberfelner

A Man Should Have What he Wants ~ by Marla Todd

~ Sweet Yet Foul ~ Poetry by Val Fox

Hell is for Real ~ by Nathan Tackett

Regarding Danbury ~ by David Hunter

Vampire Diary: The Boy Next Door ~ by Marla Todd

The Revenge Collector ~ by Mike Cooley

House of Larson ~ by Debra Lamb

~ Noredemption ~ poetry by A.K. Wallace

In the Folds of the Earth ~ by Mandy White

~ Haunted ~ Poetry by Katherine Gunnoe

Sunsets and Ginger Ale ~ by Jade M Phillips

Checkmate ~ by David W. Stone

The Pumpkin Patch ~ by David Hunter

Dawn of the Undead – A Very Short Vampire Story ~ by Marla Todd

~ Machete Man ~ Poetry by Diana Garcia

Mein Name Ist Klaus ~ by Diana Garcia

Vampire Diary: Game Day ~ by Marla Todd

Burn all the Blue Dresses to Keep the Devil at Bay ~ by Michael Haberfelner

Butterfly Walls ~ by Mike Cooley

Gehenna ~ by A.K. Wallace

Vampire Diary: Something I do Understand ~ by Marla Todd

The Awakening of Nora ~ by Diana Garcia

The Pit ~ by Mandy White

Knock Knock ~ by Marie Frankson

Unibear ~ by R James Turley

The Dark Stranger ~ by Debra Lamb

Books by WPaD

Authors of Creepies 2

Bedtime Stories

By A.K. Wallace

Pain and sighs

Bed to sleep

Fear and cries

Monster to creep

Loss and anger

Fight to live

Past and danger

Future to give

Courage and riled

Dreams to be

Happy and smiles

Scared of me

Copyright © A.K. Wallace

Batz in the Belfry

By David Hunter

COUSIN BILLY ONCE TOLD me a story about his days as an exterminator down in Texas. Now, mostly, he dealt with cockroaches, rats, spiders, that kinda thing. Occasionally he’d have to fish a raccoon out of the attic room, or flush bats out of someone’s barn. Sometimes an animal got under the back porch and died there and old Billy’d have to drag it out. He had the stomach for it, mind you. Nothin’ fazed Billy Joe Warner. He was a medic back in ‘Nam and he told me he seen all manner of things that bugs can’t possibly compare to.

Except this one time. He told me he seen guys flayed alive with napalm in Kai San, guys lying half-dead with they guts hangin’ out crying for their mamas, guys with skulls open to the sunshine for all to see – but never seen anything like he did that night 30 years ago.

He got a call about midnight from a family in nearby Wynch – a short drive west of Houston – about a noise up in the attic. They was all too scared to go up and look, and the daddy, who was new to Texas, didn’t wanna leave the girls alone to go see, so he looked up the phone book number for Cousin Billy’s Exterminator Service. Billy was might pissed that he got woken up in the dead of the night like that, mostly because he was still sauced from an evening of whiskey and he hadn’t completely slept it off yet. The man on the phone said he thought there was an animal up there and would he come over and look? Billy tried to tell him he’d come at first light, but something in his stone heart told him to go, so got in his truck and headed off.

Well, when he got there the whole lot of ‘em was standing out in front of the place, still in their pajamas.

What’s the trouble? said Billy, hauling his gear out of the pick-up truck and walking over. The father, a tall drink of water with glasses, stepped forward.

I’m really glad you could make it, Mr. Billy. We don’t usually get this kind of thing back east.

Billy grunted. Back east? Whereabouts?

Connecticut. I was an insurance broker there. I’m Malcolm and this is my family, he said, looking back at them all huddled together. They all waved amiably.

Billy grunted again. He looked around but all he could see was whatever the front porch-light illuminated (A fifteen watt bulb, Billy had assessed) which wasn’t much. Can’t survive in Texas with a 15-watt bulb! He did see something glinting in the moonlight off to the side on the front lawn.

Whut’s that? said Billy, nodding his chin in the direction instead of pointing.

It took Malcolm a few seconds to register, but he finally turned his head in the direction of Billy’s chin. He adjusted his glasses and squinted.

Oh, that. That’s an aluminum shark cage.

Billy double grunted this time. No shit!

I was interested in doing some shark photography back in Martha’s Vineyard so I had a friend make it for me. I never got to use it – when the economy tanked I got laid off of work, he said, shrugging. Plus, I had second thoughts about it.

Stickin’ yourself in a cage and dumpin’ yourself in the water with sharks ain’t too smart anyhows, Billy said. He looked up and noticed something in the attic window, glinted in the light of the full moon, something large flattened against the glass. Malcolm followed his gaze and gasped.

What IS that? he said.

Billy pointed his flashlight up to the window. Looks like one big-ass bat, man, said Billy, Probably the noise you been hearing.

A bat? Wow! One of the kids marveled.

How’d it get in there? asked Malcolm.

Flew in the window and the wind closed it up and trapped him.

Malcolm was transfixed, his fear abating a little. I’ve never seen one before. What kind is it?

Can’t hardly tell from here. You got to watch them, though. If they get in your hair you’ll never get them out, said Billy. He put his spray gun back in the truck, picked up the large vermin net with the long handle, and a baseball bat, and marched up to the house. Y’all stay out here. This’ll only take a minute, He called back.

The house was chaos; boxes everywhere, and it looked like they had just moved in that very night. When Cousin Billy made his way through to the stairs, a terrible sound stopped him in his tracks; it was a high-pitched screech coming from somewheres up in the attic. From what Billy told me, he never heard nothin’ like it. Not even a bobcat screeched like that.

Don’t you worry none, I’m coming, you sumbitch, he said. When he got halfway up the stairs he turned back down and saw Malcolm.

You might wanna stay outside, Mr. Malcolm. This here bat got kind of a bad attitude, if you get me.

I thought you’d need help. Said Malcolm feebly, standing there in his robe.

Cousin Billy, even with his meager eighth-grade education, knew what was going on. The man didn’t want to look like a sissy in front of his family. Billy understood that better than anything.

He motioned him up the stairs, and passed down the bat.

If there’s any trouble, you use that.

Malcolm took it and held it in his hands as if it were an alien object.

The big end’s for hitting, said Billy.

Together they proceeded up the stairs; a former Marine and a former accountant. That thing, whatever it was, screeched again and Billy almost ran back down the stairs hisself, cept he was a Texas boy and that meant you never turned back, even if it killed you, once you said you’d do a thing, that is.

They got to the landing, the door mebbe four feet away.

This is what we gonna do, Billy said quietly. Malcolm was holding the bat above his head like he was gonna whomp someone right then and there.

I’ll go in and catch the sucker. You stay out here’n back me up case he gets loose, y’hear?

Malcolm nodded nervously, with the baseball bat still above his head.

Billy went over to the door and tried the knob, but it was locked. Malcolm rushed down to the master bedroom and returned with a set of keys. Through the door they heard the thing bumping and scraping against the window.

Billy unlocked the door and slowly opened it.

Now, I don’t reckon I can talk intelligently about the bat species or anything like that there, but from what cousin Billy tole me this one was pretty smart, because once that thing heard the tumblers turning it made a bee-line straight for the door. Caught Billy by surprise, it did.

Malcolm took a wild swing at the sunnuvabitch and hit the door frame just above Billy’s scalp. You gotta hand it to that city fellah though; he was a persistent cuss. He followed that Bat every which way, smashing up the place somethin’ terrible until he caught it at the bottom landing. When Billy got down there the thing was deader’n a doornail, and Malcolm was sitting beside it struggling for breath.

Got it, he managed to say between ragged gasps of air.

Yeah you did. Now alls you need is a new decorator, Billy said, lighting up a cigarillo, looking back up at all the holes in the stairwell walls.

Maybe you should be in charge of the bat.

Huh uh. You’re doin jus fine. Hate to see you with any kind of firearm, though.

They inspected the Bat lying dead at their feet, wings splayed in grotesque crookedness, blood spattered. Billy whistled.

Never seen nothin’ like it, he said. He pinched the edge of a wing and lifted it. Sumbitch must weigh 10 pounds at least. Wingspan looks...

From somewhere behind them a hideous mewling sound filled the air. Cousin Billy tole me his hackles rose, and he didn’t even know what a hackle was.

What was that? asked Malcolm, standing up with the bat over his head again.

Careful, son, said Billy eyeing the bat. He looked up the staircase at the open door to the attic. You got some kinda crawl space up there in the roof?

Malcolm shrugged. I... I don’t know. We only bought the house last month.

Sounds like maybe you got some kinda sick raccoon stuck up there, said Billy. A lie; truth was, Billy had never heard a sick raccoon make that kind of noise. But he didn’t want to completely unhinge City Boy, if you get me. Billy motioned for Malcolm to follow him back up the stairs and into the attic room.

It was dark, and the light switch did nothing when Billy flicked it, so he shined his flashlight at the ceiling and saw that the critter had smashed out the bulb. He turned back to Malcolm. You wait in the hall if you want. You swingin’ a bat around in the dark don’t thrill me much.

Whatever you say, Billy.

From above them, in the roof presumably, came furious thrashing sounds, great wracks of noise, and finally a bone-jarring crash that shook the house and rattled the window.

Mister Cousin Billy, sir, I think I’ll take you up on that ‘waiting in the hall’ offer, said Malcolm. Billy put a hand on his shoulder.

Hold up, son. Look, whatever’s up there, bobcat, shrew, dragon, pissed off rhino, it don’t do no good to run away from it. We got to face it, whatever it is. Hell, I got half a mind to go down and get my shotgun. You cain’t leave me up in here by myself. It’s against the code, man.

The code?

Yeah, the code. Otherwise they take away your man-card, an’ you ain’t allowed at the big boy table no more. Once you start runnin’ away from stuff you become a scared rabbit all your life. You getting’ the drift yet?

I think so.

Billy grunted his approval. He liked Malcolm. The city boy had potential. Texas’ll make him a man yet, thought Billy. Maybe.

Good. Now you wait here in the doorway. I’m gonna see If I can’t find a way up there into the crawl space.

He left Malcolm there to guard the doorway and entered the room. All Malcolm saw was a disembodied light moving erratically. Billy walked slowly, inspecting the room, and he started to hum a tune.

...Oh don’t you go swimmin’ with bow-legged wimmin... they’ll drive you to drink... they’ll drive you ins-a-a-a-a-ne...

Moments later Billy was inside a nook, shining the light up at the ceiling.

Found something. A trapdoor, he called. Must be the way up.

Billy stopped his movement. So did Malcolm.

There was a sound.

You hear that? whispered Malcolm.

Can’t help but, said Billy.

It was a snuffling, raspy sound, coming from the crawl space. Like someone trying to breathe through a clogged nose.

Billy left the nook with his flashlight trained on the ceiling’s wooden beams until he stopped. He stood there for a moment, staring up.

What in the hell...?

Malcolm started to walk over when Billy let out a loud curse and dropped the flashlight. The room was plunged into darkness, and from above a high-pitch squeal sent them both tumbling back into the hall where they collapsed.

Lord a’ mighty, said Billy, unsheathing his buck knife out of instinct in lieu of gun.

There was...

What? What was it?

...There was something looking at me through a hole in the ceiling ...

Something looking at you...? Said Malcolm, his own hackles now prickling. He had already decided to sell the house in that split second. An eye, said Billy. From inside his vest he produced a .57 Magnum. He was on his feet and marching back into the room. Look at me though a hole in the floor, you sumbitch?" he yelled. His army boots clomped as he made his way back over to the nook. Malcolm heard loud cursing and banging in the darkness as Billy tried to get up and open that trapdoor, and from somewhere above the awful thrashing noises again. Dragging sounds: Billy managed to find a trunk and jam it into the nook where he could finally reach the ceiling.

Well now, as soon as old Cousin Billy opened that door, something came down at him, knocking him clean off the trunk and onto the floor. It was clawing and biting at him and poor old Malcolm was beside hisself with fear. Next thing you know, Billy’s on his feet with this thing caught in a bear-hug wheelin’ across the floor. Malcolm just ran down the stairs, and he barely got out of the way when Billy come tumbling down behind him, with that creature attached. They was smashing up everthing; walls, banisters, photos hung. It was hissing and screeching, and Billy was a-punchin away at it but it done no good.

By some happenstance, Billy, blinded by blood and rage, found hisself out the door off the front porch where he gave the damn thing one last punch that seemed to stun it, and he kicked it off where it went reelin’ back into that old shark cage of Malcolm’s. Billy, instincts as good as anyone, applied his size 12 boot to the door and it locked.

By now, Malcolm had sequestered his family in their Volvo and was standing by the passenger door with the baseball bat still held up. He staggered over to Billy who was crawling back to the porch steps, face bloodied, but still able to pull out a cigarillo and light it. He sat there, finally getting a look at the beast.

The thing was not of this earth; its skin was blackish green, it had large ears and large teeth and pretty much eliminated any local species. It also had large crooked wings that up to that moment had remained folded – Now, them things spread out and touched each end of the shark cage. It stared at Cousin Billy for the longest time before it leaped forward at the bars, gnawing, gnashing and beatin its wings. Spit flew and teeth flashed. For a moment, old Billy was wondering if that thing would chew right through the aluminum bars.

Malcolm sat down beside him.

Billy...?

Yeah?

What is that thing?

Damn if I know.

They sat there for a bit while Billy smoked his cigarillo. Malcolm’s wife came over an said she was takin’ the kids to a local motel and that she wasn’t settin’ foot in that house ever again. The beast stopped its hissy fit long enough to listen to all this, as if it understood. Mal’s wife hustled back to the car and they was off, leavin’ them two fellahs a-sittin’ there.

Now what? said Malcolm.

Billy shrugged. Dunno. I could use a beer though.

I mean, about this... thing?

Billy smiled broadly, and that, mixed with his wild scruffy face and caked-on blood, made him look a little nuts. His ear had almost been torn off. I have a feeling that this sucker’s days are numbered.

Billy, your ear... you probably need a doctor.

Nah. Just a scratch. About that beer though...

All the while this thing thrashed and carried on, alternately hissing, barking like a dog, screeching like a cat, as if it was trying out different ways to get Billy to let it out of the cage, until it finally got tired or something and just stood there with its claws wrapped around the bars and its little grotesque face between them, staring. It was coming on the blue hour, just before dawn.

Stare all you want, you sumbitch, said Billy.

They stayed that way until daybreak. Malcolm had curled up behind Billy on a welcome mat, cradling that Louisville Slugger like a Teddy Bear, and the thing, well, it continued its staring contest with Billy, until the first hint of the coming sun showed itself. They both turned to look east, cowboy and monster, where the sky was becoming lighter, and the thing began its most furious rage – spewing, thrashing, rattling the cage an almost tipping it over. Harsh barks and shrill screams. Malcolm woke up clutching the bat, eyes wide and scared.

What’s happening? he said sleepily.

The sumbitch don’t like sunlight, I reckon.

The sun was on its way, and now the thing decided to take giant runs at the cage door almost like a linebacker tackling a dummy, and as the sun got closer it took to throwing itself around the cage like a panicked budgie.

My uncle tole me he seen something like this once. Dunno if it was truth or bullshit. But he said one day he was cleaning out the barn and up in the hayloft was a creature that he’d never seen before, a creature with large wings and teeth like a bobcat and claws like a lion. He shot it dead right then and there, but when he drug it out to the barnyard, well...

What was it? asked Malcolm.

He called it a Texas Harpy, said Billy, finishing another cigarillo and tossing it on the ground. I always figured he was full of shit. Sorry ‘bout that, Unc. And here I thought you was just a miserable lyin’ drunk.

When the first beam of sunlight hit the floor of the cage, the ‘Texas Harpy’ stopped all movement. It gave up, I believe, or it knew that it’d been bested by Billy,