Calliope announces Kathy Attwood's spooktacular tale the winner of the 2008 Halloween short story contest! Attwood's story of small-town 'freaks' and outsiders is an excellent example of modern, uncanny story telling: nothing is quite what it seems. Tim Burton should make a film about Attwood's characters.
Thank you to our wonderful readers and writers for all of your entries in our inaugural Halloween contest! Keep your eyes peeled for our next special contest, and have a Happy Halloween - try not to scare the old folks!

 

IN THE DARK

by Kathy Attwood

      In the dark when everyone else is asleep, I scream.  I scream because of the economy, the state of world affairs and the power of certain individuals to wreck havoc upon my soul.  I scream because the church bells at the end of the street toll endlessly – and for what reason and for whom?  I scream in the dark because I fear the doors to hell have opened and there is no way out.    

I live in a town full of freaks.  Yes, I said freaks.  A town where the misfits fit, that is the proverb where by we live day by day.   We are not monsters, nor oddities but the sign of things to come in a world less perfect.  If the word freak makes you squirm or feel uncomfortable, please forgive, but there is no other word in the English language which so precisely defines our small community.  

Take one of our more peculiar and lovable citizens, Hook – a nickname acquired due to an unusual occupation.  You see he knits potholders with strings of hair pulled from his balding scalp. Strands of yellowish white hair, never washed, never combed, wrapped and twisted in between threads of colorful yarn.  Not surprisingly one lies hidden in my kitchen drawer beneath long forgotten and discolored family recipes, rarely thought about and never used, for reasons I need not explain.   
Then there’s Spike, no less lovable – but a most uncommon fellow who wears his eccentricities on top of his head.  A knife, fork and spoon are tucked solidly in the fabric of his hat.   Always be prepared is the motto he lives by as he strolls down the cobblestone streets procuring free handouts. Soup is a nasty business but he washes out the hat frequently for fear of contaminants.  As a peace offering (for we had a rather nasty disagreement one evening) he invited me to dine with him, and had I been very hungry I would have been delighted with the invitation, but as I was not, I declined.

And let us not forget White Light – a spirit of undetermined mortality.  Is he dead or is he alive?  If he is not of this world, then he shines his light for the poor souls who have lost their way. Sometimes I feel as though I have lost my way, but I continue to search for eternal peace, hoping, yet not expecting to hear the trumpets of angels - or demons, whoever finds me first.  
 
I fall asleep in the dark and awaken in the dark prying fingers with steel-like grips away from my skull.  It is unclear to me what these fingers want and whose they are, if not mine.  I wrestle with the temptation to let them do their fiendish worst and be done with it by crushing my head into oblivion, but as always I survive.  My brain is intact and protected for yet another day to ponder upon the veritable decline of our existence.   

In the dark the glow of the full moon shines through the panes of my window and awaken me.  I get up out of my bed to pull down the shade, but I find myself opening the window instead.  A black crow flies past knocking off bits of snow and debris from his wings.   He lands on a nearby branch making no sound other than the limb bristling under his weight.  He looks me in the eye as if he knows me.  His familiarity is comforting and yet slightly unnerving.  Is he friend or foe? 

Once, many years ago, the sight of first fallen snow would have awakened hopefulness within my heart, but as I look out my window tonight I sense only despair and hopelessness.  My judgment is crippled.  Shall I ask forgiveness?  Shall I fall to my knees and reaffirm my allegiance before it is too late?   I will ask to be pardoned for my wickedness and pray my sins absolved.  But perhaps it is too late to erase the beast within.  I fear it has empowered itself in such a way I can no longer disassociate myself from my actions.  Have I surrendered my last hope to evil or is there still time?  Finally the crow flies off into the black forest of shadows behind my house.  If I follow, I shall fly just above the ground barely letting my toes graze across the cool white powder.  I will then leave all this behind and forge a new life for myself and my new feathered friend. 
A bone chilling gust of wind fills the room with flakes of snow swirling round and round.   The ice crystals melt on my warm skin like cold needles.    At last the call of my ancestors arouse my weakening spirit.   I hear the soft crunch of snow and a warm blooded heartbeat pass below.  A small rodent-like creature seeks shelter amongst the shrubs from the coldness.   If  I were to close the window right now and pull the shade, the sanctuary of life would still be protected, but as it is, I do not close the window; instead I reach out further with my voice and cry like a wounded animal.  Does anyone hear me?  Am I alone in my urgent desire or does someone rescue me?  I cry out again and again. Someone or something invariably answers and then another and another cry forth.  Are we animals in pain or do we just seek companionship?  What compels us?  We continue this dialog until the true creatures of the night fight for their right to silence. 

There is no escape from this primeval force that beckons me and the others that follow.  Are we messengers for God or the devil?  By no fault of our own, through a deadly curse or the sins of our fathers - we prowl the night with our nose to the ground searching for the ultimate – human flesh.  

Why do I scream in the dark?  I scream for the horror that awaits me as I purge my bowels of sin upon my descendents.  I anoint my body with the blood of the fallen savior. 
Yes, in the dark, we are a town of freaks, I more so than they. 

 

 

 

 

 

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