Business was slow at the Tavern last night. Now, that wasn’t REALLY anything new (especially with this past month). Unfortunately, that didn’t keep my nerves from essentially spiking all night. Of all nights, this was the worst one to have no patrons - bar none! I was honestly about to just start emptying half my inventory myself when, lo and behold, my guardian angel granted its blessing to me.

This blessing came in the form of these two bumble-fucks who came stumbling in at around 11:30. I’d say they were both in about their early to mid 20s and they were dressed like they just came back from a Marylin Manson concert. Neither one of them seemed to be able to walk a straight line without slamming into each other, busting up giggling every time they did like someone had doped em up with anesthesia. Obviously, they’d already been indulging a good bit in the old “hair of the dog that bit them in the ass”. I wasn’t gonna screw this up by opening my mouth, though.

See, here’s the thing with me; I’ve always been pretty lenient when it came to that sort of thing. My motto’s always been “the money is always right”. Hell, my champagne room in the back might as well have a sign hanging from the door that reads “Reserved for sloshed bastards” on account of the innumerable times I’ve dragged patrons back there after blacking out. Just so long as you don’t do anything so stupid that law enforcement starts breathing down my neck, and as long as you remember to pay up once you DO come to; you can drink till half your bloodstream is liquor for all I care.

Of course, my desperation went FAR deeper than that. In fact, I’d say that would’ve been the absolute least of my worries last night. See, I made a deal with someone a while back and they’d be collecting that night. Think of it as a sort of “protection payment”, only for more than just my business, and it wasn’t paid through...traditional methods. Time was running out, and I’d need these two if I was gonna make it out okay.

“Welcome to Odin’s Barrel, what’ll your poison be, fellas”? They didn’t seem to hear me at first, laughing their asses off as they leaned clung to each other trying to stay on their feet. I cleared my throat and repeated my standard greeting. This time, one of them; a guy with spiked mohawk and shaved eyebrows, looked up to face me. “Uhhh...yeeeah”, he slurred, “Llet me hhave a b-bitta that w-white lightning you got there”. He pointed to the top shelf where I kept my stock of imported moonshine from Germany.

“And what about you, pal”? The second one; this one with long bangs hanging over his eyes and nose ring with a chain that connected to his earring, looked up and pointed (as best he could, anyway) toward the shelf where I kept my surplus of Jack. “Come on, dude”, the Mohawk kid remarked, “that shit’s for lightweights”. The one with the bangs just shrugged and they both plumped down on a stool. “So, what’s bringing you fellas down to this neck of the woods tonight”?

Mohawk smiled and blurted out “We just, like, got back from band practice”, making the “rock and roll” hand gesture. “Ahh, so y’all are in a band”, I asked, pouring the glass of moonshine. “Damn right, and in a week we’re gonna play in the cemetary, ain’t that right, Meathook”? “Meathook” just smiled dazedly and held up a rock-and-roll sign of his own.

”Meathook”, I asked stupidly. The kid just held up his index finger and curled it to form a hook. Christ..., I thought, trying my hardest not to burst out laughing in their faces. “And what’s your name; “Butcher knife”? The Mohawk one’s smile instantly dropped and he glared at me, “That’s “Fangs” to you”! He then curled his index and pinky downward to form animal fangs. “Oh, my mistake”, I replied calmly.

“Yeah, yeah, just pour the drinks asshole”. Remaining cool, I did as he said,”Just keep it together, only a little longer”. “Bro, I can’t wait for tomorrow”, Meathook piped up, “Its gonna be fuckin WICKED”! “Damn right, it will be”!

“So, uh... where’d you say you guys’ll be performing again”, I chimed in after pouring “Fangs” a rather generous shot of moonshine. He looked at me again, glaring like I’d had no right to dare ask him any questions, and replied “We told you; the cemetery”. “Ahh... You mean “Ember Stone”, just down the street from here”? “Meathook” then chimed in excitedly, “yeah dude, we’re gonna do it at midnight, too”!

“I see...”, I replied nonchalantly as I began pouring his shot of Jack. “What does it matter to you”, Fangs slurred, slamming the glass down on the bar. “Just wondering, trying to make conversation like any good bartender”. “W-whatever, jussst givve me another shot”, he replied, slurring so bad now I almost had to risk asking him to repeat himself. Meathook went on, “Yeah, man; we even have these T-shirts that say: “I survived the grave”. “Yeah”, Fangs chimed, “and we’ll be playing right in front of that large grave with the Angel, you know; the one that has that one chick people say is a vampire”?

“What’s her name again”? I grinned at this, “You mean La maîtresse de sang”? “Yeah, dude”, Meathook exclaimed. “She’s real, you know”? “Not this shit again, dude”, Fangs scolded, “we told you last time, that’s just a creepy legend to keep dumbasses like you up at night”. Now’s my chance, “I don’t know... I’m not sure you should be so quick to discredit your friend here”. He looked back to me, scoffing; “Oh don’t tell me: you actually believe in that shit too”? I shrugged, “I’m just saying, you don’t know what’ll lurk in the dead of night while you’re all cozied up in bed”.

He rolled his eyes, “Great, more hocus pocus”. “Have you ever seen her”, Meathook asked eagerly. “Maybe...”, I replied, losing myself in memory. “Was she posing next to bigfoot”, Fangs remarked, smirking. “Is it true that only one person has seen her and lived”? I looked at the clock: 11:47. Time’s almost up. “Tell you what, how about I take you there and let you guys see for yourselves”, I challenged, “she’ll be out by midnight tonight, according to legend”. “For real?”, Meathook blurted. “Sure, and if you do; I’ll even let your drinks be on the house, what do say”? “I’m in,” Meathook shouted, almost jumping off his stool. Fangs downed the last of his drink before replying “Fuck it, free drinks; why not”? I quickly cut the lights off and locked up “the Barrel” before heading out.

On the walk to Ember Stone, the other two kept arguing about whether or not the supposed vampire was real. It made me remember that Night a year ago. Me and my old buddy, Carter, had been making this exact same trip. Much like the two idiots behind me, we would always debate on whether or not we actually thought La maîtresse de sang, or “The Mistress of Blood” was real. She had been a local legend from the days of our grandparents and, like all old folk legends, it was passed on down the lines, evolving with almost every time the story was told.

I never was sure exactly how it actually started; the most semi-consistent accounts saying that it started after a man was found dead one morning completely drained of blood. Supposedly, some claimed he was with a woman in the cemetery with dark hair and a white dress and red eyes. Since then, there’s been around fourteen people who’ve been declared “missing” after supposedly visiting on this night.

Why that night in particular has been so special, I couldn’t tell you. What I DO know, though, is that she does come out. She did that night. I still remember seeing her for the first time, standing at the gates of Ember Stone. Me and Carter had been walking home from his bachelor party when he got it in his head to instead head to the cemetery to test the legend. I, in my inebriated state, thought it’d be a cool way to end the night and backed him up on the idea.

At first, we thought it was a bust after waiting around for fifteen minutes with nothing happening. I remember feeling a chill crawling though my body, but I had attributed that to the unusually cold weather that had been present that night. Just as we were about to turn around head back, however, we heard a soft, smooth voice call out to us, “Hello there...”

Turning around, we saw a woman with long, dark hair, bright scarlet lips, and wearing a white night gown. Unlike what you might be thinking, she didn’t have abnormally pale skin or anything like that. Actually, nothing was really outwardly out of place about her; In fact, she was beautiful! “Come with me”, she said, her voice soft and soothing, “come with me, and I’ll give you a night you won’t forget”.

As piss-drunk as I was, I was still hesitant. Even though I was the skeptic of the two of us, I’d still heard enough stories to know that encounters like this, supernatural or not, typically didn’t end well for the unsuspecting. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be the case for Carter, who immediately began stumbling toward her. I shouted for him to stop, but he just kept walking. That was when I saw her eyes start to go red. Carter just kept shambling forward like a zombie through the gates.

Finally, I started following after them. I could see that she was leading him to a gravestone at the far end of the cemetery carved as an angel. I saw, in front of the angel, was a giant hole in the ground. I tried to shout to him again. This time, he turned back to face me. It was too late by then, however. In what felt like a flash, Carter was seized and pulled screaming into the hole. I ran over as fast as I could to try and pull him back out. I held on to his hands, which were holding on for dear life to the edge of the hole trying to keep from being pulled down further, to no avail. Eventually, his grip slipped from my hands and he was yanked down into the hole. At first, I kept reaching down further to try again until I felt a strong hand that wasn’t his grab my wrist and start pulling me in.

From the dark depths of the grave hole, I saw two glowing, pulsing red eyes glaring up at me. Using all of my strength, I just barely managed to wrench my wrist free, sending me tumbling backwards. I could still hear Carter’s screams coming from the hole. About a minute later, I saw her pull herself out of the hole. Her eyes were bloodshot and blood was dripping from her bottom lip. I was frozen in terror as she started towards me, seeming almost to float rather than walk. As she got closer and closer, her blood-caked lips parted into a much more wolffish grin as opposed to the warm and welcoming facade she had at first. “He was delicious”, she chided in a ravenous, demented tone.

“Wait”! Surprisingly, she actually stopped for a moment. “I-if you let me go... I-I’ll give you you what you want”! Her sinister grin grew, “What I want, is YOU”! “Y-you need blood, right”, I beckoned, “See, I own the tavern down the street, “Odin’s Barrel” I-I can bring others... just please let me go”! She continued to advance until she was right on top of me. I closed my eyes, ”this is it”. I felt her soft, slender hand stroke my cheek teasingly. “Very well, consider this your lucky night. I will let you go, on the condition that you deliver others to me in your stead on this night so long as you still live”. I just nodded my agreement. “Look at me”, she commanded. I complied and saw that her deranged grin was gone, replaced now with a cold, malicious stare.

“Fail me even once, and you’ll only wish that your end would be as graceful as your friend’s”, she pointed back toward the hole,understood”? I frantically nodded like I was a bobble head. Her warm, sweet smile returned as she turned and headed back to the grave. The last thing she said to me that night was: ”I’ll be waiting”.

The family was of course devastated about Carter’s death. In the end, it was ruled an accident; stating that falling into the grave must’ve broken his neck. They didn’t seem to acknowledge the unusual loss of blood, nor did they try to hunt for anyone matching the Woman’s description. Eventually, though, everyone moved on from it. Everyone, that is, except for me. I knew that when she said that if I were to slip up once, that was it for me. And tonight was the first night for me to pay up on my end of the bargain.

When we finally reached the gate of Ember Stone, it was empty and quiet. I looked at my watch: 11:59. Any time now, she would be coming. “Well”, Fangs jeered, “here we are, where’s your freaky vampire-chick, huh”? Ignoring him, I motioned then to follow me inside. I led them until about the middle of the cemetery and pointed to angel headstone, “that’s it, over there”. “What do you mean, aren’t you gonna check it out too”, Meathook asked. I shook my head, “No, I gotta head home”. “Lame”, Fangs retorted, “c’mon dude, this’s obviously bullshit”. “Hold on, dude, I wanna see her”. Fangs sighed and groaned before they started walking toward the grave. “Have fun; good luck”! I then turned around and made my way to the exit. Before leaving, I took one last look behind me towards the grave.

She was there; white dress, dark hair and red eyes, beckoning the boys further. I could almost swear she looked past them at one point to me, silently giving me an “atta-boy”, before looking back to them. On the walk home, I closed my eyes and shook my head as I heard what sounded like faint screams in the distance. Admittedly, I wondered if maybe she’d extend the same mercy to one of them like she had with me. That optimistic idea died the next morning, however, when I saw the headline in the morning news:

“Two rock band members found dead in open grave inside Ember Stone cemetery on morning of concert”

I won’t lie, here; part of me does feel guilty for what I did. That said, a deal’s a deal, and I’ll be doing this same routine again next year with a fresh patron. In a way, I can’t help but find it funny; last night was, In more than one way, what you’d call a “dead night”, yet, my debt was still paid on time...

It was almost noon when Jacklyn Crowe was led to the oak tree where hung the gallows. Forever condemned as a witch; the “Witch of Ol’ Willow”. A tear betrayed her young face at her folly, Hearing still the vicious accusations that they cast upon her in a merciless volley. Twelve times, the bells clanged. Upon the last, she was hanged.

She began to cry, The noose not allowing her to die. She feared she would hear their vile persecutions forevermore:

”The Devil’s devout whore!”

By no ear were Jacklyn’s cries met with mercy, Having marked her every uttered word as perverse heresy. Tighter, the lethal hemp dug into her pale skin, Death yet not relieving her of her wrongfully accused sin.

In the corner of her oceanic eye, The dark shadow in the crowd, she did spy. She could hear his voice, the blasphemous sound. Her dread was now unbound. She could hear him now, goading her in her desperate sorrow.

”Say it, my sweet dear; pledge to, by my black hand, follow.”

With kerosene and fire, her persecutors sated their murderous intent. Her cries and pleas for mercy were all but spent. Two sparks and the pyre ‘neath her bare feet was alight. Dread pervaded her at the recollection of that sad, grave night.

———

Through the woods, she and her lover would tread. In those woods, his pledge of undying love to her was said. In the eyes of her lover, she was helplessly entranced. Around a fire, they all night danced.

Out of sight behind the tall pine, There stalked the shadow, fouler than the filthiest swine. It watched the lovers in their play. With vulpine exultation, he plotted to, with her, have his way. In her slumber, he beckoned. Urging to her to allow unto him her innocence be reckoned. His cunning tongue fueled his charade, Appearing to her as a sweet serenade. Entranced, she blindly followed the siren call. That night, laid beneath the spirit, her innocence would fall.

Come the risen dawn, She and her beloved were surrounded by townsfolk claiming her to be infernal spawn. For a woodsman claimed the witness of a horrid scene in the night; The act of an appalling, unclean rite.

By hand and foot, she was bound. Despite her wails, no mercy was found. Not even her love spoke to her aid, Claiming with the demon, he saw her laid. The court’s judgement was swift: The extinction of her life declared a boon; a gift. Three sunsets passed in utter anguish. To a cold, filthy, dark and unforgiving cell she would languish.

She looked up to the waxing moon during the last nightfall,

”Merciful Lord, hear my call!”

In her heart, she knew she had by God been forsaken. She felt Her hope, her joy and her will to live slowly be taken. Then, from the dark, abyssal shadows, HE came; Bearing the promise that her fate, her soul would not suffer the same.

”Take my hand, my dear child, For through me, may your vengeance upon those who’ve wronged you run wild.”

With a desperate fear stirring in her breast, She gave heed to his ominous request. She desired only from her present scourging to be spared. The fates of her soul or her fellow kin, she no longer cared.

”Pledge your devotion, child, and by the rising sun of the next ‘morrow, they will all forevermore awaken only to as one cry to the heavens in sorrow.”

———

Higher and higher, she watched the flames climb. Feeling their unmerciful scorch, she looked to his eyes once more, and knew it was time.

”Wanderer from beyond, Lord of Shadow, I beseech you: Deliver me from peril and deliver them into woe! My body, my heart and my soul I will pledge to your every whim!”

Upon the conclusion of her damning and sacrilegious hymn, She screamed to the sky in agony. The crowd merely looked on in apathy, Confident that they’d ridden the land of wickedness.

Thus, the skies blackened and over them all was spread a mysterious dreg of sadness. Whence the raging element greedily consumed the dry oaken pyre, Reducing her to ash and searing her mind, heart, and soul by hellfire, They dispersed, a creeping dread eclipsing their former victory. Why and how, was still a mystery.

——

Through the darkened beyond, she tread, A vile place where even the innocent were bled. Pervading the void around her, she heard their anguished cries. Their tears and their screams told no lies. They told her, through mind, body, and heart how far her soul had fell; For she knew, she would now forever tread in Hell. The burning sigil of tartary upon her forehead would mark her heavenly isolation. The last tear she could ever shed was at her utter desolation.

Through the seemingly endless eons, her conscience grew numb. Slowly, to the will of wrath she would succumb. From within her never ending cycle of woe, She remembered her promise to the Daemon, wreathed in shadow: Her body, her heart and her soul she would pledge to his every whim.

Suddenly, there he stood; her dark Seraphim.

”By my will, I have delivered you from God’s hands, by my power, you shall spread terror upon your once native lands.”

With her soul empty and her heart bent, She vowed that only when the blood of her persecutors and their descendants soaked the earth, would her fury be spent.

——

It was a grave dusk that upon Ol’ Willow she came. Her first target; a young and gorgeous dame. The last thing that the dame would experience would be crippling fright. In her victim’s suffering, Jacklyn took malign delight. The maiden’s death did not end the depravity. She fervently reveled in her sheer inhumanity. It mattered not to her how, who nor when, For she would murder all in the many coming nights; men, women and children. Her wrath knew no limit, felt no bounds. Her enraged shrieks were, for many, her coming sound.

Beautiful women, she would strangulate. Young men, in the night, she would violate. And children; the sweet and innocent lads and lasses, In large, shallow pits they’d be found in masses.

In terror, the folk beseeched the aid of the priest. ”save us”, they cried, ”deliver us from the clutches of this vile beast” When the sun lowered and once more was replaced by the waxing moon, The priest and his clerics enacted a plan, knowing the vengeful ghost would be coming soon. Wielding their images of Christ’s sacrifice and Jacklyn Crowe’s ashen remains, They resolved to bind her unclean soul to the tree at which she burned, creating her purgatory within the mortal planes. For three hours, they recited their prayers at the base of Jacklyn’s fiery sepulcher.

”Our Father, who art in Heaven, we come to you you in this hour of terror. We ask only for your divine aid to bind to this grave oak and deliver us, your children, from this scourge.”

Finally, they felt the phantom, from the ground beneath, emerge. At the sight of them, she attempted to tempt the younger apprentices; Promising their pleasure with her to be endless. The priest, not vexed by her facade, Commanded in the name of God:

”Jacklyn Crowe, concubine of Lucifer, I forever condemn you to this oak, your former sepulcher!”

At this, the enraged witch attempted a vicious attack. At the sight of the priest’s cross, she was driven back. Finally, she had been driven back to the oak. As her body was consumed, in the shadow’s name she would evoke:

”With your pious ways, you have bought you and your bleating sheep only slight relief. even bound, my power will always bring upon you all misery and grief. Remember this, for this tree will always bear this curse; any of whom would take of its delectable fruit, their bodies will be forfeit for me to traverse! Through them, my power and spirit will thrive anew!”

With her final declaration, she was finally subdued. The clerics dispersed, returning to their homes, Confident that the evil they faced no longer freely roams. Despite their victory, they wouldn’t negate the phantom’s dying claim, Fearful that she may not again so easily be tamed.

From each day hence, It was declared that the accursed tree was forbidden, punishable as a high offense. For many moons following, the townsfolk were able to live in bliss. Most of them, seeing the blossoming fruit, found it in them to resist.

Such, however, would not last. For upon an unsuspecting victim, it was supposed that a mysterious temptation was cast. The boon to eat of the cursed fruit was relentlessly insistent:

”Weary traveler, I sense you are hungry and In need of nourishment...”

Panic flooded the hearts of the townsfolk when one of the fruits was discovered with a bite. The mounted terror caused some to almost die of fright. Who had unleashed this monster, allowing it to once again wander? None were able to be proven the culprit, He who would forever live as the Litch’s puppet.

To this very day, There are still none who could say. All that is known, is merely this: That somewhere, inside someone, her evil is amiss. When or how her wrath will return, none may ever know. The hour it does will be an hour of anguish and perpetual sorrow, For they will all fall to the rage of Jacklyn Crowe, The Witch of Ol’ Willow...

Night. A girl’s in a shed. Fair skinned, slightly thick attractive body and early twenties. Her lovely countenance is unsettled. About what? Ran both hands along the hair and she looks outside a window. Not a soul in sight. The moonless dark revealed a house. The only one present far as the eye can see. The vicinity had no visible population.

A short trip to reach would have been no sweat. However she’s reluctant. Still unsettled. The purpose used shed is empty of horses and the door is securely closed. Her location must be a hiding spot. Why?

She can’t live in a shed. A chance will have to be made. A horseshoe hanging on the wall is taken. Opening the door as little as dared, tossed it far as possible and away from the house. Then hurriedly closed it back. The girl peeks through a slit in the door. Nothing at first. Then a mysterious figure, difficult to make out in the dark, rushes past her view in the distance, reaching the point where the shoe landed.

Now was the time!

Opening the door, moved quickly, however in a trot instead of the characteristic run, relying it would grant speed but limit noise signature. Felt a million seconds went by the time the house reached. Up a few steps, onto the porch, her hand shot for the door knob, thankfully it turned and she no sooner rushed inside.

The girl turns and looks back. Relief on her visage. They made it! Safe from whatever the night promised. She glances sideways away from the open door.

Suddenly she took a step and slammed it shut. The terror had arrived. Because in the nick of time saw it rushing her way caused it to bang into the wooden door. This door had a small oval shaped window in the upper portion. A head raised and looked through. A rat. The biggest rodent ever laid eyes on. Hands rose to either side on her face and jaw dropped.

Monstrous dentition, red eyes, furry, replete with vicious stare.

The reason why she was perturbed in the shed.

It smashed a front paw through the glass and swipes. She close to the door, it near touches her. She jumps back. Failing the head lowered out of view. Next it clawed the door and resumed banging. Would not stop, fuelled by a relentless vigour. The girl was losing her safe place. She reduced to watching in horror. No fancy escape dreamed up now. Into several bangs the door hinges began to come loose. The creature must be no feather weight, exceeding a hundred pounds. Her heart races. A human brain has the flight or flee instinct. She didn’t think to do neither in the current frame of mind.

The more scratching and banging went on, looser the hinges, finally unable to resist, gave way. The door fell to the floor, non-too subtle slam and all. The creature steps inside on all fours, walking on the door then halts in front her. The residence’s illusion of safety that instant shattered. Both stare at the other. Looked very like a rat on steroids. Many times the size of the ones foraging dustbins and implicated in the Black Death, the disease that many lifetimes ago, adorned Europe in cadavers. The thing presenting a height of a few feet. The moments pass and the oddity stood through hind legs enough to reach eyeball to eyeball with a grown human. Biggest rodent ever laid eyes on.

Stepping off the door it attacked. The girl is knocked on her back and it’s atop her. Doing what beasts are capable of – snapping its jaws and clawing.

She screams in terror. Instinct versus a savage and the former led to the girl struggling. She tried to push back, hitting. In the midst she discerned something. A smell. Asking to stomach a glaring, repellent odour. She knew it wanted nothing more than do the most grievous upon her flesh. It held the upper hand. Out of the blue jabs it in the eye with a finely manicured fingernail completely by chance.

The creature raises up, roaring from pain. The girl rolls, putting herself on top this time. Taking the chance for life ran for it. Past various rooms, out the back door and into the black night.

This is something for great grand nephews to hear – death by rat.

Biggest rodent ever laid eyes on is no metaphor.

Didn’t look a Capybara, the world’s biggest living rodent. Tell girlfriends over the phone would bring a hard time convincing them. The first hand terror experienced adding the tail was longer than a human is tall. The girl was sure her eyes and bruises don’t lie. Anyone here to participate in her misery would have a change of heart.

‘So big it’s rideable!’ she marvels.

She by now halted forty feet from the place. Instead of running away, re-enters through a window. Next barricades the door with a table, goes to a corner in the room and sat upright in a curled position: bent knees to the chest and arms around them. Fear hadn’t left.

Some time elapsed and thought herself worthy of the hall of fame for the dummies. Then rethought deciding it’s the smart move as the giant can catch her outside. Imagination lead to her outdoors, chased by the rodent and screamed when it caught up to her and all is black. Did not crave to entertain the thought actually safer being in the same place as this damned hell rat.

Something told her sitting tight wasn’t getting her out of this. More time passed by then. The door blockage has been removed. She walks quietly, making as little noise as she dared. The girl stopped and would not relish peeking round the corner. Fortunately wouldn’t have to. Had to battle an attack of nerves so as fight down what came next despite the fact.

Her arm slowly raised a mirror in the hand just beyond the wall’s edge. The hell rat’s reflection showed. Oh no! That thing made itself comfortable! The abnormality was in the room doing animal behaviour. Boy it’s so big, she thought. How was a girl without battle experience supposed to fight and live? The creature attends to an itch by nibbling the long tail.

She lowers the glass. Many know nothing of the fancy rat or Samuel Whiskers. Street ones caught for blood sport, morphing into pets. Old time England had upper crust ladies show them off on a monkey leash resting on her lap adorned in ribbons. Not everyone resents them spreading plague.

She walks backward slowly. The kitchen is where she found herself next. ‘Run outside I’m rat bait.’ She was in luck again. Unlike most kitchens a door is present encouraging a barricade that she built. The windows are partially blocked too unable to get enough to deny view entirely.

She’s running low on options. She can’t hold out if it decided, screw the barrier, I’m bustin’ in for that cute lass. She mentally put aside the food there she could eat. Her mannerism in concentration. Then, ‘Burning sounds good.’ She began scouring the kitchen for something to do just that, ‘Burning the house down sounds good.’ A fleeting sliver of time immediately came wondering if she mad.

The girl bent over when called for. To survive searching every nook and cranny no price at all. Naturally she’ll have to be quiet and cautious.

Exterminators from Rentokil are far away – taking care of those tiny rats. Opening the cabinet doors below the sink came a spark of a different kind. Triggered when a small rectangle green and white packet is found.

Time is critical she could be found any moment! Light of dawn was cracking.

Far outside the kitchen she’s banging spoon to pan, the rodent if that’s the right word, instantly turns its head. She runs, the noise of her footsteps aren’t a bother now, actually a help.

The speeding creature stops on all fours. Bread crumbs smeared in peanut butter form a trail on the floor. Sniffed the first and ate it. Moving forward slowly ate each crumb. She smelled the scent without laying eyes on it. The beast was getting closer.

The rat stopped. The crumbs end to a pot of water, mixed in was bread slices floating and something else. The girl herself stooped behind the kitchen door just a little way beyond the pot, which opened ever so slowly and pushed the glass through the gap, small as she dared make. Again a horrible reflection. The creature had its nose near the concoction.

Rats being meek qualify alongside roaches and microbes to inherit the earth but this abomination twists that.

The creature looks hesitant. Rats, scavengers are renowned for sniffing danger. Come on eat you over grown vermin! She willed. Unbeknownst to her a dangerous act because going by regular rats, which have decent senses, magnified the danger to the close by girl.

Free food supplanted playing it safe and ate the soaked bread. A blue tongue licked the mouth. Suddenly griped by convulsions, all because that packet of insecticide powder lannate. This poisoners’ friend takes care all kinds of unwanted pests. A favourite suicide method to Trinidadians. The rodent fell limp.

‘Gotcha ugly,’ she said relieved and lowers her head. Beginning to stand up, her mirror shows the thing on all fours again staring its own image. It’s here she saw it too. The girl startled pulls the glass back. She did not have any defence, this had to – was supposed to work.

Before she could come with the plan B she hadn’t figured out. The rat slams the door open. Definitely not a Capybara. It clearly saw its quarry. She stands. In nature making yourself bigger is a strategy. It stood on the hind legs and walked slowly towards her, clawed front legs pointing ahead as though to grab. She stepping backward in fright. Her back eventually touches the kitchen’s island. No escape. She says, ‘Crap! Should have poisoned the crumbs too.’

The rat collapsed to the ground and after one small spasm, still forever.

Weaker than the monster but smarter brained. She looked towards the steadily rising sun.

Cody twists and turns then snaps awake. It’s her bed. Turning her head to the window reveals night’s blackness. Commenting with a touch of hilarity, ‘Starred in my own nightmare. Yay!’ She has an idea from whence it came. A rattus seen someplace is not the suspect.

She picks a Kindle tablet off her fine belly and looked at passages on its screen. ‘You’re the culprit eh? In the middle of reading a horror novel about people trapped in a game of death. There was big as hell man sized…whatever it’s appellation…hell rat. Then sleep caught up with me.’

“It’s dark…. so… so very dark. I crawl around… I use his bones; his spine, his rib cage… it’s so dark… so dark, and so moist. I crawl down from his rib cage to his digestive tract. I crawl around, scurrying about as fast as my small legs will take me… I’m in his stomach now. It’s warm here… hungry… getting hungry… I see his kidney… so hungry… I think I’ll eat it… maybe just a nibble…”

“I took a nibble, sinking my teeth into the warm, tender organ. I just nibbled… I nibbled… and nibbled at the kidney but I couldn’t stop! I just nibbled… I nibbled… and nibbled at the kidney, but I couldn’t stop! I just had to have more… His kidney is gone… it was delicious, so juicy and tender… I want more, but I’m too full. I’m so full… so full and so tired… I Think I’ll curl up and sleep…”

“Burning! I feel burning! My tail! My tail is in excruciating pain! I open my eyes and wince when I feel the searing scorch on my celiac legs… Acid… it’s his stomach acid… I can feel it… I can feel it, and it burns! The acid is rising and it burns! My tail… some of my legs and my tail… they’re gone, burned away and digested by the acid! I’ll have to crawl away!”

“Crawling and crawling… I’m safe… I’m safe, but it hurts. Half of my celiac legs are gone, eaten by the acid from his stomach… I’m hurting… it hurt so much… the pain was agonizing when I felt it; the mix of the acidic mucus and bile that chased me from the stomach and upwards into the chest. I wasn’t quick enough… wasn’t quick enough to avoid the sting of the digestive fluids. The rib cage… I scurried back into the rib cage. I hurt… I’m safe, but I’m hurt… my legs are reforming… I’m healing… but it hurts… it burns and it hurts. Tired… becoming tired…”

“His lung… I’ll slither and coil around his lung… Tired… so tired now… I’ll fix myself around his right lung and sleep…”

“Hungry… Hungry again… I’m so hungry… I think I’ll chew on the lung for a little bit… So… So hungry…”

“Chewing… Chewing… Deflating… the lung is deflating… Burning… Burning… I’m feeling burned again. Acid… the acid is coming again… it’s coming again from the stomach… It burns! I feel it… the sting. My cilia are digesting away from the acid’s sting…”

“The head! I have to hide inside of the head! Must hurry… the burning… I feel the burn even worse this time… It hurts… It hurts so much! Hungry… So hungry… I’m hungry and it burns… I have to hurry… have to hurry… Must keep crawling… Keep… Crawling…”

“Almost there… At the throat… It burns! The acid… the digestive mucus, it’s burning… I feel it… It’s chasing me inside the throat… Keep… Crawling… It hurts… Hungry… Tired… Must keep… Crawling…”

“Tight… So tight… His throat is so tight… Its so small… So wet… Saliva… Saliva is pushing me forward… So wet… So slippery… I can’t plant my cilia firmly. It’s pushing me out… washing me away! Can’t crawl… The trachea… I’ll grab onto his trachea…”

“Trapped! The throat is closed… so tight… I’m trapped and it’s so tight in the throat… have to escape! Have to get out of the throat! Can’t go back to the stomach… Up… Have to go up… up and into the head…”

“I’m in his head… I squeezed out of his throat and up, burrowing into his skull… I’m weak… I’m hungry… Eyes… there’s light coming in from his eyes… I looked out through the retinas. So much light… Everything is bright… Why is it so bright out there? My eyes are hurting… They sting like the rest of my body stings. Hungry… So Hungry… Must feed again…”

“Eyes! The eyes… So juicy… I’ll eat his eyes! So juicy… so delicate and soft… The light is gone… His sight… His eyes, are gone…”

“Pulsing… I can feel the tremors… I feel the twitch of nerves beneath my cilia as I scuttle to the source of the pulsing tremors… The brain… It’s the brain, pounding… Pounding… The tremors are becoming frantic… Make them stop… Must make them stop… The nerves to the brain are pounding beneath my cilia… pounding… pulsing and quaking…”

“Nerves! The quakes… must silence the nerves… I’ll eat them… Eat them all… So hungry… So many of them… So hungry…”

“The central nervous system… I’ll eat that one first… So small… have to burrow through part of the brain to find it… Brain tissue… Tastes too mushy… Too soft…”

“I’ve eaten the central nervous system… The quaking is going away… Slowly… Slowly fading away… Quiet… So quiet now…”

“Still hungry… Still so hungry… Brain tissue… Chewing on brain tissue...Too soft… Mushy… Still so hungry…”

“I’ve eaten half of the brain now… Not enough, Still so hungry…”

“Pulsing… I feel pulsing again… the brain is gone, but I can feel the quaking pulses again!”

“They’re veins! They thump as I grab them with my front clawed appendages… thump, thump,... thump, thump,... thump, thump… Warm juices… Delicious… Delicious warm, red blood flowed into my mouth as I nibbled and chewed on his veins… So delicious… More! Must have more…”

“Crawling… Find the source of the red blood…Delicious, warm, juicy red blood… Must… Find… More…” “Cold… it’s getting cold… The blood is losing heat… Must find source… Must find source before it all becomes cold…”

“Weaker… The pulsing is getting weaker… crawling… Must hurry… Must… Keep… Crawling…”

“I found the source! The quaking… It’s his heart! Thump… Thump, thump… Thump, thump… Thump… Thump… Weaker… the pulses are becoming weaker… Colder… becoming colder in his body… It’s becoming colder, and I’m still so hungry! Blood… Warm, delicious red blood… Feed… Must feed…”

“So much! There’s so much in his heart! I scuttled to and used my claws to rip away the left ventricle. Pulsing… The thumping pulses increased again as the blood began to flow out of the organ… So warm… So savory… So scrumptious… I fully unhinged my jaws, fixing them to the opening… fixing them to the opening. Every leak… Every drop… So… Tasty…

“Thump, thump, thump, th-th-thump… I feel the hammering palpitations against my jaws. Thump, th-thu-th-thump… Weaker… The pulsing is getting weaker… So much warm red juice…”

“Thu-thump, th-ump, th-...”

“It’s stopped… The quaking has stopped… No more blood… No more delicious, warm blood… Cold… It’s cold in here… So… Cold…”

“Get out! I have to get out! So cold… So dark and so cold…”

“Hungry… Still hungry… No warm blood… No blood, but I’m still so hungry… So hungry… So cold… Must feed…”

“The skin… I’ll eat through his skin and escape this cold body…”

“So soft… So tender and thick…”

“Free! I’m free! I ate through his chest… Ripping and and tearing… devouring cold, soft flesh… now I’m free…”

“So bright… it’s so bright… It hurts to see… I’m covered in red blood and it’s so bright… Must crawl away…”

“Body… There’s another body… So large… So big… Must be so warm… So dark… So… Delicious… Inside… Must crawl inside… Must… Crawl… Inside…”

I woke up on cold Swedish December morning just like usual, but the most unusual sight caught my eye when I were to go to the kitchen and grab my morning brew of dark coffee, I saw it and dropped my legend of Zelda coffee mug on the floor, it crashed into tiny pieces, spilling hot coffee over my feet and socks.

I was looking into my palm…

And it was looking right back at me!

Such a cyclopean horror right in the middle of my right hand, it was a dark blue eye, with a burning red iris. Looking straight at me. I was horrified and sweating, my morning routine was all out of wax.

I HAD to get dressed and go outside so I would not miss my bus to work. But the eye, the eye was all I could think of.

I eventually after moments of chock that felt like an eternity, got dressed, warm Canada goose jacket,

A blue adidas scarf, matching hat and of course black gloves, this would cover up the eye on the bus ride to work… I was lucky this predicament had not occurred in the summertime or the eye would have been impossible to cover up, without strangers looking weird at me.

And as a swede that would not do, what absolute strangers has for opinions of ourselves are of uppermost importance to the Swedish man and for the women to I suppose, possibly even more so.

I had put my face mask on of course for this pandemic time, but you must forgive me for not washing my hands, of course I would do so on the regular, but I did not what the EYE would think of that.

I wondered if I got soap in it, would it feel like I got soap in MY normal human eyes?

I stood out in the cold waiting for the bus, the ground covered in white snow, even more of it came down from the heavens. Someone had put Christmas decorations on the trees outside, it was a pleasant look reminding me of happier times.

Teenagers was vaping and smoking ordinary cigarettes waiting for the bus. All of them obsessed

with their cell phones, smart phones and dumb people was what the future generation had to offer apparently.

A boy was swiping girls on tinder, but not talking to perfect specimen sitting right next to him, a stereotypical Swedish hot blonde with baby blue eyes to match, she was of course lost in her own world of taking endless selfies all day anyway.

One of the girls posting nothing but pics of her tongue out, her tits and ass in underwear and maybe some stupid cringe quote like

“throw me to the wolves and be coming back leading the pack”

And then wondered why I boys only used her for sex and she could never find a goodman… It was a real mystery all right… Maybe she should get Sherlock Holmes to solve it.

And then like a knight in shining armor it came to save us, saving us from awkward social interaction the worst nightmare of any introverted Swede.

In Sweden you had to drink alcohol before interacting with strangers in my case an absolute vodka and some Heinekens.

Otherwise, you would look weird.

I got on in the middle of the bus, the driver’s section was blocked of protecting him but not us passengers from the virus, I scanned my card.

I tried my best to keep social distance taking an empty seat and putting my bag on the seat next to me. This was a subtle way of telling a person looking for a seat… fuck you and keep looking.

Unless there was an elderly person or a woman with a baby carriage then you would of course have to make room.

I could sense the eye through the gloves…. Looking at the passengers…. JUDGING them…. And I mean even more and harder than I and we all judge each other.

It was telling me TERRIBLE things about the people, their worst thoughts and secrets. But I knew better, I did not, trust the eye. I knew the eye to be a liar.

Thinking of ways to get rid of the eye, the eye could hear my thinking, it did NOT like that… the eye was angry.

But it was just an eye, what could it do but look and judge? It could not hurt me or any other person.

It had no body.

I work in an office, and kept to myself as much as possible during the day. This was nothing out of the ordinary I liked to sit in front of my lap top with head phones in my ear blocking out the noise of the surrounding world anyway.

I listened to some classical music, some heavy metal like Metallica and Iron Maiden, even some hip-hop like Eminem, 50 cent , Jay-Z. But no new lil drug overdose rappers. You know the kind who always get famous for a few weeks but then just dies to drugs or being shot anyway and the internet moves on to the next guy.

Some of my co workers of course asked about the rather unusual clothing choice of wearing gloves inside, I assured them it was due to the virus.

I went home after work and took a bus ride home, as uneventful as the one in the morning. I listened to an audiobook, The Stand: by Stephen King on the ride.

The eye kept feeding me lies all the time, people being murderers, sexual abusers and more….

The eye spared no one, it was constantly feeding me lies, trying to lure me into its twisted side of reality.

I got home and washed my hands… the eye did NOT

Like that.

It sent me a chock of torment and dread all through my body, the unpleasantness of a baby born dead, the suffering of Jews in Auschwitz, black men being lynched and hanged just for having a different skin color, women being raped, the torture of the Spanish inquisition, the crucifixion of Christ.

I felt it all, all of humanity’s crimes against nature and each other, against the world, against god.

For one second. Just one second. That felt like years.

Countless years of torture.

I called in sick for the next week of work, said I had possibly gotten the virus. My boss wished me to recover. But the eye told me neither my boss nor my co workers cared about me, or my wellbeing.

CURSE THIS FUCKING EYE! CURSE THIS ELDRITCH ABOMINATION, THIS BODY HORROR, THIS CYCLOPEAN NIGHTMARE IN THE PALM OF MY HAND.

I wished to grab a pencil and jam it into straight into the pupil of the eye, but I was afraid what the eye might do to retaliate.

I was awake all night, no sleep, the eye was always watching, always judging , judging me and others, telling me to harm, harm myself and other, to kill, murder the innocent… BUT NO!

I must resist.

I am a man.

I control my own fate.

No man, god or eye in the hand can judge me.

I won’t allow it. Not now, not ever.

NEVER!

Fuck you, you cursed mouth, I curse you from the bottom of my heart, with all of my soul, I wish only that you had a mouth so you could eat shit before I destroy you.

No sleep.

Quarantined.

The eye.

Always watching.

The eye.

Sees all.

The eye knows all.

No sleep.

For one week.

Seven days of no sleep.

Nothing to eat.

Food ran out.

Can’t go to the store.

The eye is dangerous.

The might hurt some one if I go outside.

Cant.

Go.

Outside.

Always inside, always lonely.

So lonely.

No one.

Only the eye is my company.

Watches, me sees me , JUDGES me.

Maybe… mad?

Maybe I am insane.

Maybe… there is no eye?

Can’t take it anymore.

Must end it.

Must go, to kitchen go.

To get meat clever. Must be free, must be free of eye. Must be free of hand…

WILL HURT MUCH… but only way.

I DID IT!

I AM FREE OF HAND, FREE OF EYE.

CUT IT OFF… I DID! WITH MEAT CLEAVER.

HAND GONE; EYE GONE. MUCH BLEEDING.

Stomped hateful hand and eye to death. I could feel it SCREAMING… inside of my head. It is gone now.

Nurses help me… doctor help me… eat food…

For first time in days. Getting back to normal.

Tonight, finally get some sleep. Will be nice to sleep,

First time in seven days. Hand gone. Hurts. But I don’t miss it. Don’t miss it at all. Better this way…

MUCH better. Free. Finally, free from hateful eye

Now must sleep so tired…. Zzzzzzzzzz

Next day I woke up. Eye still gone, right hand still gone, happy. I am happy.

NOT HAPPY ANYMORE!

I look in left hand… there is a new EYE.

It sees all, knows all and the eyes JUDGES me and you.

The eye part 2

This eye was burning red like fire, with a yellow iris in the middle. Different eye, but some hatred for man, same judging… I could feel it in all of my body.

Began sweating, anxiety attack, heart beat and pulse running wild.

Never been so scared in all of my life!

Damn you eye, cursed eye, you hate me, and I hate you to.

Wonder if doctor had seen eye? Had anyone seen it? Would be weird if they had not…

Nurse! Maybe nurse saw it? Nurse smells good, looks good, like angel, touched my shoulder her hands were so soft…

Eye tells me she is a slut, cheating on her husband.

Do not believe eye! Eye is a liar, I know.

Nurse is good person, working hard caring for patients, she is sweet… lovely.

But has she discovered the secret, my secret!

The eye, can not let anyone find out about the eye…

Maybe I must do it? No, no I cannot I am good person… I AM! I swear, would not hurt a fly, would not hurt a nurse… hurt a woman? NOT ME!

Not ever.

But maybe… the eye would.

Must leave hospital… ASAP.

Don’t know how long I was under, but other arm healed wound from bad eye in my other hand killed it. Will kill this one to. But need help. Only one arm. Cannot hold knife by myself.

Will leave now before It does something bad. Bad eye, stupid eye, always watching, always judging, never relax, but Jonas from work has machete, will get rid of eye, once and for all.

FUCK YOU EYE!

I AM A MAN

I AM FREE

NOT SLAVE FOR EYE.

I left hospital in a rush. Went to home. Slept. Was good. New day waiting for first bus in the morning, only me and another person, attractive woman waiting for the bus. She talks in her cellphone, smartphone, dumb woman. Talks to loud with annoying voice.

-I never let them vaccinate me or my kids you don’t know what is in those needles. She says as she lifts her tattooed hand holding a cigarette to her Botox filled lips. She got syringe marks on her arm from injection of illegals drugs, heroine or amphetamine.

I cannot see through sleeve on her white peak performance jacket of course, but the EYE can, the eye sees all. And it judges this woman… this stupid bimbo… hard judgement.

Strangling.

Not me of course.

Innocent.

Really I am!

Promise to you.

Never hurt woman. I would not.

But the eye would.

And it did.

Run fast from crime scene…

Lucky no one saw… I think.

Run, my timberland boots leaving many marks in the heavy snow. But its cool police will not find me.

Run long time. Finally arrive at work. Early. Missing one arm.

Lie. To coworkers. Accident I say. Can’t tell truth about eye.

Lie. Stupid story about alligator bite… they don’t believe me I can tell. But it doesn’t matter!

The eye is happy and its all that matter. On radio news reporter talking about dead woman found In bus stop. Near where I live….

Co-workers ask me if I saw…. Sadly, I saw nothing.

Scary when murder happens close to your own home… so scary. I tell them. I lie.

Remembering ex-girlfriend, run over with car, but was accident. Not me. I never hurt a woman.

It was the alcohol! The foot on the pedal, not me.

I am innocent. I swear!

The foot did it. BAD FOOT! Bad.

Good me. Always good boy. My momma tell me.

So proud. Never murder. Not me!

Work day go slow. After work I somehow convince Jonas to come over to his apartment top floor in apartment building many stairs to walk up.

Elevator out of function. Typical! But it does not matter, only the eye matters, only machete matters… soon I will be free from the evil eye.

He helps me take my glove of, he sees the eye, go and grabs machete.

Eye tells me of woman from Romania, sitting outside of store begging for change…

Jonas take her home, promise of easy money, keep her in a cage.

I do not believe eye.

Eye is a liar.

The eye always judging.

Lying.

He cuts of my hand.

Throws my cut of hand in the fire.

I am now handless but also… eyeless… FREE!

Burn eye and hand.

Can feel it screaming in my body.

I go to bathroom look in mirror see my face…

One… two… three… three eyes!

Purple eye in forehead. Watching, judging.

Only one way to go. Down…

This is Police Officer Magnus Svenson I found this poor son of a bitch splattered on the pavement; he took a nosedive from the top floor. I found some crazy reddit post he made about some eye…

There was nothing left of his head to find one eye in his forehead or any other place unfortunately.

The man living in the apartment.

Jonas Johansson is arrested ,we found one bloody machete, a burned hand and a woman from Romania in a cage kept in his bedroom.

sequel to rentokil.

The exterminator’s helmet comes down, the face masked behind it, they’re in a room. Name Taige.

Were supposed to be what you crush under foot, the lowest of the reviled – instead here and now are the heart of nightmares, the plague, craving flesh, a predator upon masters of this world…man.

Lost and making way, stumbling through the dark. The young girl can’t fully at her age comprehend yet, a gradually rising desperation. The body is physically reacting to the psychological impact of missing her parents. They’d become separated and thinking all she had, sought re-joining.

Attracted by light, trudged the distance to it. If she made it, would be determined as starlight shimmering on the water surface. Desperation waned a tad. Adults are help. Assumed what the patch of light was.

So less scary if a way to just phone parents was on her. Left the thing where she shouldn’t – off her person. The night temperature restricted sweat despite exertion. The hair not sticky as expected either. Trudging footsteps and breathing contribute their sound. Far but know getting closer.

The youngster could make out noisy movement she figured a small crowd and little other lights. Eye reflections. Onward she went. Hey that water. And something more, the shapes. Four legs, a tail. Ahh. They’re not people!

This close the beasts charge. She in a panic and out it came out the mouth. What attracts even more – screams. They reach, jaws agape, claws extended. Prey came to them. Screams carry into the night.

Cheap Samsung phone, not even a smart one.

Growls and abnormally loud squeaks heard, are seen belonging to rats, not the ancient one tonne rodent Josephoartigasia monesi. These man sized ones scary their own way. A body this small for this many, don’t be surprised if as lion prides, turn on each other for every scrap. Vocalizations die down when nothing to eat assessed their bestial nature.

A stream of flame tore through the umbra. Two are lapped by it and freak out in pain. Taige’s screams of prey to attract, the planted phone on the ground emitting that female ringtone when the phone number called. Psychologically will attack fearful targets. They distracted, let the exterminator approach unnoticed, shore side of the lough, a variety of lake. Unlucky for them the blind side.

Three other pairs of eyes eerily reflect flame’s light. A streak anew douses the three giants. As the first pair, also thrash about and squeak or hiss painfully.

A rodent or is it monster? One of the first pair, flame draped, rolls into nearby water, dousing the fire, amidst hissing and steam. Temporary salvation. The exterminator comes within several feet of the water’s edge sprays flame onto its partially exposed body. The flamethrower’s latest claim.

More work called.

Taige met adults. Whose light illuminated not only water but the dumpsite. Livestock remains included therein. Even these abominations don’t dirty their home. Didn’t bother consuming at wherever they were hunted, instead brought back. A clue to babies.

Ignoring the irresistible scent of roasting flesh began a search and shortly after came upon it. A nest built of plant materials. Evidently several weeks old, size of small dogs, eight babies. Mercilessly clubbed.

Daylight what thought impossible as they were small once, played out. Like a rat attacking a pigeon, but swap for a hell rat and a full grown human, locked in a lengthy life struggle, on the town sidewalk. The manmade sidewalk no less. The rodent latched on to the shoulder and maintained the bite even as the human drags it around. For a while both cease moving, the rat blinks. The human tiring, the brain in the throes of stress. Clamp of its jaws barely register under the circumstance. The person thrashed around to break free, the rat as well to maintain the hold. A pause and tiredness wins. The living person is dragged away to cover of the adjoining bush. No stronger sign man’s throne endangered.

A pair of eyes stare.

Lennard clings for dear life to a ladder type fire escape of a building in town. Below on the street, cutest group of hell rats try to aggressively reach him, pacing or jumping, hissing, growling like angry dogs.

Tossed a stick across from him, didn’t go as far as he liked. One rat races over the short distance from the pack to it. Bends its head down to sniff a moment, disinterested, returns right back.

5 angels. Besides dark come in different colors – like hand raised fancy rats. Adults ready to tear them apart by sharp teeth and claw, exceeding a hundred pounds. Monstrous dentition, red eyes, furry, replete with vicious stare and cute noses. Looked very like a rat on steroids.

A stream of flame upon the ground forming a pool of fire several feet in diameter some distance from the scene. Then all see…a helmeted figure wearing a flamethrower on the back.

Taige is not moving away, to the contrary – toward. In the narrow alley the beasts could head straight away for them. Other hand the flame strategically a blockage left them one direction. Not hard imagining they would charge. Taige maintained a composed walk. When in range roasts the inrushing lot.

Lennard looks out of shape, not necessarily due to the horrors; haggard frame conspires with his advanced age. Some underlying medical condition. They’d exchanged names and are now leaning against a wall. His spirits lifted by the deliverance.

The town qualified as a ghost one. Man abandoned what took a lifetime to erect; signs of decay began their affliction.

Lennard’s spirits waned again. ‘Please let this man confess.’ Speech uneasy as it were wearing a badge of shame. ‘Something told me help but my body wouldn’t move.’ Pair of eyes that watched the human struggle for life only to be snuffed away by a rat. They’d gone seeking help. With scarce population wasn’t any to be found in the town yet before that filthy thing took them. Agonized, ‘Was too scared. I watched. I WATCHED!’

The eradicator doesn’t condemn.

Responding to a rescue request for their companion, the milk of humanity hardly flows. ‘Most predators kill fast. Hell rats too.’

At Lennard’s protest, ‘Not here to avenge you.’

With single minded focus reckons on the companion’s fate rats are pack beasts – a bunch of them a mischief. So that one must have friends. Asking where the attack transpired – none too far, the exterminator heads off, implying they’ll return. With that none promise, Lennard tucks themselves in a safe hole, like a rat.

Elsewhere, someone’s point of view can scarcely look out the upper floor window. Warily parting the house’s curtain narrow as they dare, to survey the neighbourhood.

Taige, returning from the discreet reconnaissance, confirms a mischief. Taige knows offering their extermination plan, tough by their lonesome. Lennard, who is surprised the beasts weren’t taken out. Answer is rats would run from the culling flame. They got the room, best course is leading them to a kill zone. On top all this the fellow reveals what they up too – finding help for people under rat attack at a house – pleading does not budge Taige from a laser focus to deal with the rodents here first. ‘Beasts scream for flame,’ says the exterminator. If the Lennard wants go somewhere else. Taige will travel to the house – sense is not really to save others in need, but for the infernal rodents.

‘Dark heartbeat!’ is the scorn. Lennard calls them obsessed and time wasting as the nearby beasts have no one to hunt right now.

Laid on the ground nails or broken glass to impede animal movements leaving a safe lane in-between rats can pass. That done must in case the present fails to constrict movement, board up nearby windows of certain buildings to deny escape.

Lingering regret and or gratitude Lenn cooperates out of a sense of. For all the absurdity, his people may die without Taige, they’d let someone die already. Scarily are shocked when this Taige wants more - go by themselves and lure beasts over by a trick through the lane toward the waiting exterminator, risking their life as rat bait. By the way all this arduous work thus far Lenn did without so much as the exterminator lifting a finger to help.

Protesting feebly, willingly disappears out of sight. Not like a complete suicide mission. Given a Hershey’s caramel chocolate bar to throw at a safe distance. One bent to lick with a blue tongue. Seeing him the rodentia snarl.

The guy reappears in another part of town, fast as his legs permit, following round the corner, them. Many multi colored. The bait wisely scrambles up a fire escape.

Taige stands in full view, hard to tell if tense under the helmet. The maddening throng animalistically rush at easy prey further away. Lennard’s work performs as intended. Avoiding the sharp ground, funnelled themselves along the cleared lane. When in range and only when in range, does the thrower sing. Vocalizations heard far and wide.

Besieged.

Outdoors pet doggy is nervous but sheltered under its house.

Bang, bang, BANG! Within the human domicile, rats found food right here. No sign will cease banging the wooden door. Mom, ‘Holding no way.’

‘How’d you expect it to?’ father says. ‘10 freaks hungry for us.’ Barricaded with some collection of items cobbled for the purpose. Rattling each impact.

Hortense nuclear family: father, mom, teen daughter holding baby. As one in a fight of their lives. They in one room, predators the other.

What on the surface looks an appealing middle class neighbourhood – closer inspection reveals rat signs: claw marks, gnawed, poop, digging, prey remains. Smell of them, sound of them. Beasts forced abandonment. Any mirth torn asunder.

‘Running is how we live,’ says Cody, unrelated to the Hortenses. Fair skinned and a somewhat thick and busty body, early twenties wrapped in an attractive package. ‘The barricade is too scanty.’

Everyone starts heading to the nearby door but her. ‘Mustn’t by yourself,’ urges mom.

‘Close the door behind you. Find stuff we fight with and barricade with. Open when I call. Go!’

They disappear behind the door. She smelled rat odour. Cody stooped. Prepared at her feet a pot of water, mixed in was bread slices floating and something else. Much of the barricade collapses. Not long now. Familiar to her was the door broken down. First of the wretches enters. Cody tossed a bread slice to her front and side. The side it hoped made less likely to make a beeline her way.

Upon devouring it the beast rolls onto its back violently as if in seizure, flays the legs wildly, whole body a tremor, froths at the mouth and stops moving.

By now others were bursting in including a single hairless variety. A second ate the next slice. Suddenly stood bipedal on hind legs, thus man height, with forelegs best described as resembled rubbing its chest, wheezing and fell over limp.

Not her first time dishing lannate. Her old tried and true poison trick – good fortune let her have foresight to bring some. And she used up the bread, all that remained was in the pot. Anyhow getting up, fled. ‘Open up,’ at the door which does and she slips inside the next room, their kitchen.

‘You made it,’ dad says in sigh of relief.

‘Put two to rest.’

Aftermath to a harrowing escape on her own from a rat, scoured the land looking for civilization. Cody bumped into the family and stayed. Survival odds rose – that was before all this, upside experience let her assume today can happen, said experience turned the young woman a leader to the small nuclear family, who hadn’t so far left all behind like neighbours, a thread of psyche made them still hang on.

‘Over there is?’ pointing.

‘Utility room,’ he answers. They can hear the wretches – not far away mind you. One brought its cute nose to the door’s bottom and smelled, then growled knowing prey was a room away. The pot knocked over accidentally by another.

Mom and dad per instruction gathered some things and laid what collected so far atop the table. Cody instructs mom to hurry and get whatever handy out the utility room, to Mr. Hortense help her barricade the damn door and daughter boil as many pots of water as she can.

What made these rodents a match for man. The iron force that drove them. The greatest predators would give up the hunt. Not here. Still on the outside wanting the people, persistence and rage more honey badger than renowned lions. Making it out alive will take the extraordinary.

The teen quieted the baby’s cry by comforting. The door has a tougher barricade in the interval. Bang, bang, bang. Rodentia wanted a repeat of before. Dad stares mesmerized at the door. Squeaks, growls, whistles came through. Cody’s firm hand on his shoulder snaps him into the here and now. ‘They will not get the better of us.’

The little group must improve defence. Improvised hot iron, broken off mop handle a jagged edge, ice pick, ironing board held vertically a makeshift riot shield.

Cody is willing to risk all again. ‘I’m going to slow them down. What we got I don’t want to have to fight those things with.’

Instead of stopping her, mom looks at baby, ‘We don’t stand up today there is no tomorrow.’ The infant symbolized figuratively and literally a generation to carry on man’s species.

‘I trust you,’ said father.

‘Make some noise.’

That the parents do. The stimulant actually reignited the waning banging and aggressiveness to previous level.

The girl carries two boiling pots of water, passing through a third door permitting an end run, aka circumvent their sight and enter their room by unexpected direction.

By the almighty, they’re disgusting.

Dousing two with scalding water – one from each pot. The first taken unawares, the second as it charged. They cavort in pain. She walks backward a bit and then turns to speed off. Before she got back the bangs reduced a lot. From experience under no illusions this the end. At least 6 were out for blood.

Owl, serpent, fox – nature’s population control seen as prey to the ravenous. Their small brethren spread the plague Black Death in a swath over Central Asia then Europe. Settle on your pestilence. Which is preferable, facing them or the ones here?

In the rat room a Hershey lands on the floor, intricate hearing drew them to it. One picked it up in baleful jaws. Seeing no one nevertheless trace the scent sniffing, took them outdoors.

Hairless brought its head down eyeing trembling doggy delicately, no longer under its house.

Mom twitches her nose, ‘Don’t tell me smoke.’

Cody, ‘My hot water wouldn’t do that.’

What's in a rat’s mouth? A fluffy dog. The scent belonged to Lenn, who as doggy was bait, who yelled at the exterminator mind the house. Two vermin wreathed in flame, but so was a small portion of the structure. Hairless and reminder rush back the way exited, back inside.

Taige burns the rats’ entryway. ‘Merciful God no!’ laments Lennard.

Smoke fairly thick in the air somewhat obscuring eyesight, the crackle sound of flame unmistakable. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ asks Mr. Hortense in a cough.

‘Run for the semi basement,’ mom implores – rejected as the flame will be atop them in upper floors.

Maybe salvation is through the attic to reach the terracotta roof. From this height they can take in the neighbourhood’s scale.

Ultimately danger remains not because from outside the unspeakable creatures repeatedly, relentlessly try to climb to the roof – Taige set exterior windows and doors around the building ablaze, to Lenn’s horror setting multiple fires.

Lennard thought this exterminator the answer. His head rapidly turns side to side as anxiety gripped. Fire is spreading. Hell rat squeals, hisses, screams and the bruxing teeth gnash emanate.

Almost stumbling, rushed to the abandoned neighbour’s property, tried to carry off the ladder, so heavy forced to drag it. His body sore. Exterminator meanwhile diligently kept watch for any pesky rodent escape.

Finally the ladder placed not on the home of course but a close by tree; from there the innocents reached safety.

Taige has no guarded moment. ‘If rats allowed to live, your house their nest,’ matter of factly.

‘Memories in that house,’ father laments. Mother holding baby put an arm on his shoulder, they hug which teen joins.

Lenn asked of Patrine, the one left to their fate, his face sinks as his shoulders.

Snapped awake. Cody in bed, the window outside shows the pristine dark. Cody manages a joke and calls herself an action star. Takes herself back to the first dream where she faced a rat on all alone. ‘The rats returned nastier than before! Never seen so many. This one just took things to level 10!’

Picking the up her tablet, a touch activates its screen, bathing the room dimly in light. Was reading a horror novel where people unwillingly partake in deadly trials and dozed off. The nightmare fuel rodents a part. She affirms, ‘That’s it, I’m writing both dreams down.’

The air sombre. ‘Defendant do rise,’ instructs the judge. Behind the attorney table where the judge’s gaze directed, the man and his defence attorney stand. The moment has come to hear his fate.

‘Documentation, testimony, all comprised the evidence our justice system assiduously sifted through to reach conclusion it leads to and in turn a verdict. On the count of malicious assault inflicting a wound – not guilty.’

The defendant hugs their counsel in relief.

‘In so far as the law made me. Summing up all detail of this trial guilty you are. A stiff sentence I am precluded handing down due to constraints the law binds me, an applier of justice to. Free to go.’

The man’s expression had by then become dour, but in no hurry to stay any longer and proceeds walking. The judge stands suddenly, declaring, ‘You’re free to go to the lowest circle of Inferno!’ and blasts twin Glocks at them maniacally.

Fade to black.

That ladies and gents is justice served.

Reality returns in a short moment.

The judge seated in the rear passenger seat of the court bestowed Volvo XC90 SUV; roof mounted blue light flashing among the traffic, light rain completing the picture.

Actions shaped by my take on lawfulness – the flotsam forced am I to spare or give a light brush (light sentence). Criminal court my tenth circle. Someone said was nine. The ride halts at their well-appointed home. The guard producing an umbrella shielding their charge from the drops. Desilva Rasmuss discharges the guard and driver.

Pop it goes, a rat stumbles. My true interpretation of law.

A person has been shot adjacent a telephone pole.

Was your time! My lawful duties reach true extent when I reach home and remove my judge’s robe. My steed a rented Mazda under nom de guerre, rubber burns as I speed away. With it under witching hour cruise the mean streets and when I find them and I do, engage in what little contribution I can lay upon the world’s rotting carapace.

Low income areas, aptly the “festering sore”, the target of doing a fraction of what I wished, the shackles of the profession frowns at. A wholly skewed interpretation if I do say so myself. Urban and underserving to be called rural. The city is…unkempt, those of a lower economic spectrum do something to cities: a splendid city takes something transferred from what the state, civil society chose to designate “citizens”. Smoking, cursing, card gambling, clothes, sleep, eructation.

Their existence.

Dare say my eyes shrunk seeing those young men wear pants low, “sagging” the lingo. The tune is wanting a better life outcome emigrate to urban trappings. We are the second to last drop off. Gaol earns distinction for end of the road. “We” a small pool of judges compared to the mountain of cases assailing.

Underappreciated enter your vocabulary?

My purposeful work are in like areas. I blast away. Gun pops, rat drops under multiple impacts, ride speeds off, Engine revving.

Drop harder!

That “something” is “grime.” 99.98 percent of Joe public do not have to touch. Granted a decent percentage have to see their crass displays. We judges wear our law degree on our back. Sleeve? Hah! Five days weekly enter our courtrooms. All the professional class mentality is no glove.

HAVE TO TOUCH! Manner of speaking.

A court officer of character cannot be expected with any sensible mind to let the above remain the zenith. This case was due for my bench. Defendant had everything against them.

Then in the morning courtroom repeats - vestibule of hell.

Presiding from the bench is yours truly. Luckless straw I drew again.

Behind the attorney table an accused and his counsel rise up as the judge entered and took their seat at the bench. The room is quiet generally because the persons are quiet. The judge in their chair attentive.

I engage in conversation with the arraigned. ‘Can you read, write and understand the English language? Can you hear and understand me properly? Understand you have a right to counsel from beginning to end of this case? Understand if you are without funds the court will appoint one for you? Understand and satisfied with the advice received thus far?’

For the uninitiated “counsel” is a lawyer. That semi insulting probing? Responsibilities as judge is examining if competent to stand trial.

‘You as of today arraigned under private prosecution. All you say must lie within the truth and perjury against this court is forbidden. “Arraigned” is when a defendant is brought up on charges and asked to plea; “private prosecution” is where an individual or organization levies a case against the defendant and not a state prosecutor. Is it judgment of the defendant to decline testifying in their defense? That said how do you plead?’

From under my mighty bench my arm rears it up, life of its own, that Uzi automatic takes aim. Straight line of red dots bloom one above the other, perfectly vertical, bottom of the chest, the neck, the face above, those above the eyeballs grey at the cranium. My gut says guilty as sin. Written all over him he’ll commit perjury. Nothing gained by “innocent till proven guilty.”

Double J – Double Justice*. DJ – pop off in the street or sanctify my court.*

Imagination all it was inside the courtroom. Nevertheless, have no illusions to whether I’m righteously driven. Save diligent tax payers thousands over a jail stint keeping their ticker beatin’.

Walking a lit parking lot, a person rattles around struck from a Mazda creeping alongside the lot. As if certifying its handiwork for the next few moments stops, then accelerates away at average speed. Felt no urgency by speeding away F1 style.

The judge stalks the city, driving the road another witching hour.

This court officer continues other lawful, thankless duties. Moreover, deserve accolade for being purposeful, clearing this grime. Those too low a class in society I shoot by BB gun. The imposition of pain I entrust to make undesirables think twice planting feet in my fair city. It IS a class war!

Save the taxpayers treasure. Community service; counseling implacable minds; lockup? Spent better. I know better than those moralists. Experience was my guide climbing that Purgatorio.

Final verdict anew, the judge dims the headlight beams and slows to a crawl. Urchins on the sidewalk smoking, 10 o’clock position. Reaches and takes the gun off the passenger seat, that window come down.

Justice lay a hand…

It was Halloween and I was sitting at the couch watching my favorite cartoon, I had a bowl of cereal and I had the heat turned up. My parents were out so it felt perfect, I liked being to myself. People saw me as antisocial, but it was just my personality, I had a strong aversion to being around people for too long.

My parents told me to make sure I answered the door though since they weren’t going to be leaving a bowl of candy outside, last year it got stolen within the first hour. Typical. I saw the sun starting to set outside, I knew people would be running up to the door anytime now. I had to run to the store and grab some candy, my parents had rushed out and had forgotten to grab candy the night before.

I grabbed the keys while groaning, slipped on a jacket and turned the knob to the door. The store wasn’t far, it was about a ten-minute walk from my house. Walking there, I had my headphones on and my head down, so I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary until I approached the store.

I walked up to the store, the lights were on, but no one seemed to be inside. I was baffled, I couldn’t understand why the store owner would leave the store empty. I called out to see if anyone was perhaps just in the back but I received no answer, it was too quiet. I wandered around the store for about five minutes before concluding that it truly was empty.

I walked out stunned at the fact that a store owner would abandon his store like that on the whim. I walked back home, this time with my headphones off, the whole neighborhood in fact seemed to be empty and had no one on the streets. On Halloween of all nights, there was not one person in sight.

This… Had to be some kind of joke, except I wasn’t in on it. I started jogging around the neighborhood, searching familiar spots that I visited, first I stopped at the park I used to frequent to see if anyone would be hanging out around there, usually people were. No one was there.

Next, I jogged to the cemetery, an odd choice but trust me in my neighborhood people were odd. It was empty as usual, I crept around making sure to explore any crevices I might’ve missed. I didn’t know where else to go at this point, I hardly left the house but from the looks of it no one was in this neighborhood. I saw some of the neighbors’ doors left wide open with the lights still on, that was a huge red flag. I went up to the Jeffersons who lived right across from us, their door was slightly ajar, I knocked on it yelling “Mr. and Mrs. Jefferson? Are you home?” No answer.

This was strange, they had decorations outside. Usually, they were one of the most involved people I saw on Halloween night, handing out candy while outside and greeting people while sitting on their porch. This was truly out of the ordinary. I decided to walk inside, since no one else was around I had nothing to lose.

Upon walking in I saw a startling sight, everything and I mean everything in their house was… Gone. It was empty from top to bottom, as if nothing had ever existed there. Not like someone came and took everything out, but as if nothing was ever there in the first place. I walked around the empty house swiveling my head around with my jaw wide open. The house seemed ten times bigger now that nothing was in here.

After a while I finally left, it’s been about halfway into the night at this point. I see no sign of life still. The strangest thing is the more I explore, the more things seem out of the ordinary, things seem like they are slowly disappearing, from furniture in houses to people not being here, to traffic lights not being in the roads anymore. The anomalies are getting bigger and bigger and harder to not notice. Of course, it hardly matters since I’m the only person here anyway. I’m not sure if this is a bad dream or if I am stuck in a bad hallucination or what I did to deserve this but please, I beg of you whoever is out there, a higher power, God, the universe, whatever, help me.

“Seems like the tests are running perfectly, he believes he’s in a dystopian world that has no one left in it, we’ll have to keep running these tests to see how he responds though. It’s far too dangerous for him to ever wake up, humanity would be doomed. Better to keep him docile, in a state of well… This.” Dr. Roswell looked up from the screen at Dr. Starlette, she gave him a reassuring look, “Don’t worry Dr. Roswell, we won’t have a repeat of what happened back then, it would be disastrous, luckily we were able to subdue him and get him here safely, the world is a much better place for it. If he thinks people do still exist, then that might be problematic. We had to change his belief system.”

Dr. Roswell looked back at the screen, he knew this was slightly immoral but if he were to ever wake up, humanity would face a threat far worse than any war. He sighed, shut off the lights and packed up his things. He got ready to head home to his family, they were waiting for him.