"The Town
Slumbered"
scary story submission
“Fine. Now let me tell
you a scary story,” the middle-aged man at the bar pushed his stool back
and drained his longneck, looking at the older man who had just spun a
long tale about his time behind bars.
“Unbeknownst to most
of the townspeople, an old Gestapo virus had festered, too long, in a hidden
population of vermin. The men and women responsible for bringing it here
worked old racial hatreds, and divisions, while experimenting with the
virus on rats, roaches, beetles, pets, and yeah, even the residents of
the town. They nested it, and nurtured a mindset that worshipped the ways
of war, allowing a seething dark force to bubble and simmer beneath a veneer
of gentility and privilege.”
He ordered another beer
and sipped it quietly for a few minutes, before continuing.
“It insinuated itself
into every aspect of life in the town, causing a low-grade mental malaise
which sapped joy, perverted happiness, and sought two primary things, it
fed on these things as it fed on the people- power, and control. Power
over good things, control over everything within its grasp. And the men
and women that reveled in the sickness, and the twisted duality of power
and control it granted them, sank deeper into the pit of their darkest
desires, and fed it with their lusts for suffering and misery, giving over
to it their own children, when they could not lure or deceive outsiders
into its wretched web. Feeding upon itself, making sickness the only escape,
then selling the cures and newer illnesses back to itself, in an ever-increasing
loop of degradation and despair, strengthening even as it weakened…”
The older man was visibly
agitated now, and had quit drinking. His temples pulsed, throbbing with
angry, quickened blood.
The younger man casually
sipped from his bottle, watching the older man in the mirror behind the
bar.
“When, at last, a generation
of children born to shine began to mature, and search out, and destroy,
the cause of the hideous undercurrent which preyed upon the soul of the
town, the old men and women that would not give up their evil ways sought
to destroy them. They turned to twisted magics, employed demented demons
who masqueraded as angels of light, and sought to recall the bygone days
of the second World War, which was as much a global battle between good
and evil as anything we are experiencing now.”
The old man was wheezing,
shaking, and fighting for control of his body functions. His eyes were
venomous with rage and hatred for the storyteller. The younger man continued.
“Look in the mirror.
It was this town, mister. You were one of the ones that brought it here,
propagated it, fed thousands of good souls to it.”
The old man started to
moan, a low, almost-pitiful sound that made his frame shudder. As he looked
into the mirror, and finally saw himself for what he was, his nose began
to bleed.
“We waited, baited, and
masqueraded ourselves, for years, so we could be certain that we got not
only the outer circles of your hellish clan, but also find the nest, and
be certain that we had a psychic connection with you, to strike at you
from within...”
The old man reeled off
of his barstool, blood pouring from his ears. He couldn’t hear the screeching,
dying wail of his progeny, as they were bursting into flame, all over the
town, which was waking from a long nightmare.
“It was you, Bubba. Time’s
up.”
The younger man finished
his beer, as the old man’s head exploded.
home
