St. Marlin's Annual Haunted Halloween House Competition (707 hits)
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Submitted by Ballare (View user info) at 2006-10-26 20:09:15 EDT
Marie Aldwell had won St. Marlin's annual Haunted Halloween House competition six years in a row. This year shall be no different.
Among the perfect rows of perfect houses, decked in orange and black and spinning white ghosts, Marie's always stood out. Children would slow when they passed by (they always did, morbidly fascinated by the howling screams, the fake blood, the bleached plastic skulls baring enamel grins) but none were daring enough to brave the winding front path leading to the door.
Come All Hallow's Eve, Marie always had a bowl of candy by the door, in case the children knocked. (They never did, but it was just as well.)
But I digress: six years now, Marie Aldwell had won.
This year, I would assume she has been in her basement all evening, industriously working on her next ensemble. She prided herself on a new collection every year-- it was much too easy to use and re-use decorations from previous years. She enjoyed the challenge of it.
I helped her, last year. I watched as she bent over pumpkins, meticulously scraping and prodding and slicing with her razor-sharp scalpels. They were fantastic constructions of her imagination, terrified orange faces pulled in physiologically improbable positions.
They were always her warm-up for the night. The pumpkins, that is. She would scoop out the seeds and set them aside, to roast, after they had dried. She would shake them, rinse them, and spread them out on a pan. She told me once that she enjoyed the crackling noise they made when she ate them.
I remember very specifically what came after the pumpkins. The limbs: ludicrously well-preserved hands with plump fingers, or toes so fresh you could expect them to wiggle to life again.
(The year before last she did severed arms. She'd been especially proud of that display.)
Some digits she would rip off, snapping the little bones with a hideous sort of crack, and set them carefully next to her pumpkin seeds.
She told me once that she enjoyed the crackling noise they made when she ate them.
The ones she planned to use for display, she would paint with a delicate little paintbrush. Now, she'd told me, come here. Don't be afraid, darling. It won't hurt but a little bit, she'd said.
Oh, yes, she had lied. But that year, it was my blood, dripping off clutching fingers and mangled arm-stumps that won Marie the competition. It added realism, she said.
She had washed her tiny brushes and dried them, and put them away, wrapped in white cotton.
After the limbs, I seem to recall, it was stringy fake spider web. You know the kind-- the gossamer threads you buy at your local dollar store. It came with little plastic black spiders. She loved the feel of it between her fingers. She would stretch it across the doorways and giggle quietly to herself.
It didn't take long, but it certainly put her in a good mood.
She turned to me (this is the part I remember very clearly) and said, now it's your turn. Are you ready?
I didn't know what I was expecting-- but it certainly wasn't to be struck across the neck with a heavy steel axe.
She said, it will all be well. (Easy enough for her to say. But when I tried to tell her this, but all that came out was a gurgling of blood.)
Shh, she said.
After that, I am told she removed my arms and legs. To be used, I would assume, in next year's display. She finished hacking off my head and tucked my torso away in her large basement freezer. I hear Marie makes excellent ribs.
I am afraid I must rely on hear-say from now on, but my sources, while ethereal, tend to be fairly reliable.
After letting me to bleed out, I'm told she boiled my head for a little while. Not too long-- too long, and the flesh falls off the bone. Just long enough to soften the tissues. Even now, I can picture her; humming happily to herself, fishing around in a cast-iron pot, skimming fat off the top and picking out stray hairs.
However she would have done it, I'm sure she was efficient and smart about it. This was her sixth year, after all, so she had practice, and no time for dawdling. Marie Aldwell did not dawdle.
She would have retrieved my head after it was well and properly boiled. They say I was missing an eye, sitting out on her front lawn all shriveled and pale, so she must have pulled one out.
She would have deftly slipped one of her long, bony fingers into my eye-socket, and, pop, out it would come. With a pair of her sewing scissors she'd've had to snip the stretching tendons.
Jeepers creepers, she would laugh softly, where'd you get those peepers?
Maybe it rolled across the table until she captured it and picked it up and placed it carefully next to her pumpkin seeds.
With another sharp scalpel (she had an endless supply of them) she would cut away at the bone at the back of my head. She'd need, perhaps, a saw to get to the raw grey flesh of my cerebrum. With a large spoon, she would ladle it out, on to a waiting tray. Some she used for her display.
Most she kept. After all, the crows would get at it if she left it too long outside, and wouldn't that be a waste?
Had she the chance, I'm certain she would have told me that cooked, it is soft and smooth, tastes much like tofu, and goes well in a stir-fry.
After I had been transformed into something suitably terrifying, she would step back to admire her creation.
Perhaps she trimmed my hair. I suppose it would be an improvement.
Human skulls are not exceptionally heavy. She would have had no trouble carrying me upstairs, and it would only take a few moments to arrange me on her front lawn. She would plan all year, and when it came to the day, she knew exactly where everything was going to go.
When the time came for the display, Marie was unabashedly proud of her creations. Last year she was particularly pleased, but I've heard whispers that this year she has elaborate plans for her latest ensemble.
Marie Aldwell had won St. Marlin's annual Haunted Halloween House competition six years in a row.
This year shall be no different.
User Reviews
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2007-08-14 14:57:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by zwerg (user info) at 2007-08-14 14:35:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Gross, but I liked it
Submitted by FALLEN (user info) at 2007-08-14 14:33:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought I rated this before.
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2007-08-14 14:29:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
cool
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2007-05-14 15:41:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
gross
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-05-14 14:10:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Extremely unpleasant.
Submitted by DirtyHarry (user info) at 2007-05-03 17:45:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent!
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2007-05-03 17:27:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
has the satisfactory smack of Ew!
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-01-22 07:06:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Maybe not quite +2, but whatever, I liked the voice and style, and fuck me, this should get more attention.
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-10-26 22:47:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Cheers.
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2006-10-26 22:38:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2006-10-26 22:23:18 (#)
Ranking: 2
This was an excellent little tale!
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That means a hell of a lot coming from you-- so, thanks.
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2006-10-26 22:23:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was an excellent little tale!
Submitted by HotWillie (user info) at 2006-10-26 22:03:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by JMG114 (user info) at 2006-10-26 20:38:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice.
Submitted by Lib (user info) at 2006-10-26 20:19:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
horrible Thank you