THE OLD MOVIE THEATER- A Short Story.

     No I can not tell you the name of the movie theater. You got to remember that I was still drinking in those days and my mind was in a fog every minute of the day every day of the week.
     In those days before I quit drinking I would every morning start wondering around downtown looking for cans and plastic bottles to recycle. Of course there was a bunch of us downtown doing that so I had to look all day in all the trashcan. I would stop to have a drink from time to time from my bottle that was left over from the night before.
     I always kept my eye open for the police. If they caught you with an open bottle in public they would pour it out. In those days I would have rather been hit over the head with a billy club than lose my bottle of wine.


     About an hour before night fall I would take the cans and bottles to a recycle yard near the water front and would cash them in.
     Next I would stop at a liquor store on Main street that I liked for some reason. I got all my wine there.
In those days I would wear my big old jacket that had the torn lining on the inside of the left side. I would slip my bottle into that tear in the lining so that no one could see the bottle in plain sight.


     I would then walk a block over to the corn of Market Street and Glass street. Market in those days was an awful block. A lot of the stores were boarded up or closed up because the places would be out of business. There was a lot of junk shops. By night fall what few businesses there was would be closed up and just about no one would be walking around the street out there.
     The only business that was open on that block after dark was a rundown movie theater. Really rundown. It looked like it was going to fall over with the next rain storm.
When I would get there would be a lot of people like me. Winos and junkies and others who had no where to stay after dark.
     A really tall man with grey hair would open the door and every night would yell the same thing to the crowd there:
     "Admission is five dollars each and anyone making trouble will be thrown out of the theater. We close at 6AM."
     I would always buy a hot dog or two from the dirty looking snack bar. It was run by a large angry looking woman. I don't know why she was always angry looking. No one I can recall dared try to annoy her. She looked too mean.
     Many of the people who came to the theater came every night like I did and everyone had a favorite spot to sit. I like to sit near the back near the door against the wall. When I dozed off I would lean against the wall.
No one would sit near me so I felt safe there.
     They ran only one movie at this theater. I guess since the place was mostly a flop house for the homeless they figured it did not matter what film they ran. It was a cheap looking slasher horror movie. I saw that film every night that I slept in that theater. I saw it hundreds of times over a two year span of time.
     The print of the film was really beat up and full of splices and jump cuts. It was called something like BIKINI GIRLS GET KILLED.
     I would drink from my bottle and watch the movie every night till I passed out. Many times I would wake up again and drink some more as I watched more of it.
     I can remember every bit of that movie. I can replay the whole thing in my head. It was about a maniac in a rubber skull mask who killed women in bikinis. Every time a woman would put on a bikini you knew she was going to die within five minutes.
     "Mr Johnson I need to go back to the office. Thanks for talking to me."
     "No problem. Has your boss said anything about me leaving here soon?"
     "No not yet. I will let you know if he tells me anything about it."


     Doctor Jones left the small room and made sure to lock the door behind him before returning to the office.
     At the office he was met by Dr. Brown the head of the mental hospital.
     "How is he today?" He asked Dr. Jones.
     "Pretty much the same. He still believes that the murders were scenes from movie that he believe he saw somewhere."


THE END.

Copyright 2015 By Teel

Please do not reprint or repost without permission. 

THE VOODOO DOLL- A short story.

THE VOODOO DOLL.

     Jennie was a waitress at the FOUR TOPP CLUB where I worked as a waiter. The only way to describe her was to say that she was very pretty. She was tall and slim with reddish hair. I fell for her right away. I did not know any better. I am one of those guys who always fall for the wrong woman. I always have and I think I always will. But I explain that part later.

     The big problem with her as I saw it was that she would not go out with me.

     She always told me it was because she was being loyal to a boyfriend called Ronnie. I never met him. She told me that he was a sailor that was sent to a base on the east coast. She told me she did not want to go out with anyone else.

     She gave me that excuse every time.

     In the back of my mind I must of known she just did not want to go out with me. But you know how it is.              Sometimes you just ignore the obvious.

     At the time truth and real life seem to mean little to me. I wanted everything to be going the way I wanted it to go. But then again who doesn't want everything to go their way?

     Even though she would not go out with me she was always nice to me. So I decided against all odds to keep asking her out. I figured I would wear her down someday and she would go with me. I guess I thought I had forever to wait for that to happen. When you are young you always believe you got plenty of time ahead.

     But she always told me no. She told me that she was always going to be loyal to her boyfriend Ronnie.

     I started telling her that I was spending my free time sticking pins into my Ronnie voodoo doll. She always thought that was funny. Sometimes when his phone calls upset her she would ask me to go stick another pin into it.

     One night when things were very slow at the club the two of us were sitting at a back table in the nearly empty dining room. I asked her out once again. I was not really surprised when she said no once again. Deep down in me I kept hoping she would have a different answer for me.

     Someone once told me that false hope was the worst kind of hope. I wish I knew that then.

     I pulled out a small plastic bag I had in the pocket of my work apron. From that I pulled out a small plastic sailor doll I found at a thrift shop that afternoon. I had bought it for a dollar.

     Here it is. My Ronnie voodoo doll. I told her as I stuck a hat pin into it's chest. I thought Jennie would never stop laughing. She thought it was so funny at the time.

     She is gone now. She never return to the club after she went east to her boyfriend's funeral.

     He died in a drunken barroom fight with a bartender who refused to serve him anymore beer.

     The bartender stabbed Ronnie in the heart with an ice pick. It all happen the night I stuck a pin into that sailor doll. It freaked her out when she was told how he died. She would never talk to me again after that.

     I use to mope around the club as I worked. I missed Jennie. I missed her badly. I stopped my moping after one of the waitresses told me that it was not really worth it.      That all along Jennie was going out with all sort of other guys and once when it was suggested that maybe I could be fixed up with someone Jennie said that it would be pretty hard to fixed me. That she could not think of anyone would want to go out with me.

     It stung me that she said that. I should have known she would say and think such things about me. At least now I could see that happening.

     Not long after that I got myself one of those cheap plastic model dolls at a 99 cent store. The kind that are made to look sort of like the Barbie Doll.

     It reminded me of Jennie.

For a long time I kept it on the night stand by my bed.

And every night I consider sticking a pin in it.

THE END.

Copyright 2015 by Teel.

THE SILENT VOICE. A short story.

THE SILENT VOICE

     Tor's Quik Kash was just about the most seedy pawnshop on Warroff Street. When Omar Steele walked into the place he really had no intentions of buying anything there. He was low on cash and just wanted to kill some time till the movie theater down the street open. The first show of the day was only a dollar ninety nine.

     He was walking pass the glass showcase of knives when he first heard it. It was a voice like that of a young woman. Sweet and low the voice called out his name. It startle him. Mainly because women rarely spoke to him.

     The last one to speak to him only wanted to inform him that she would call the police if he did not leave her alone.

     Omar looked around but could not see any women in the seedy shop. The only other person there was the pawnbroker who was reading the race form at his desk. It had been a slow day for him and he was bored.

     He did not bother to get up when Omar walked in because Omar looked like a broke waste of time to the broker.

     Omar then heard the voice again. He looked into the showcase of knives. The sweet voice was coming from the glass case. Among the knives in the case was a unique dagger.

     It was eight inches long and it had a fancy carved whalebone handle. The voice seem to be coming from the dagger. Omar found that strange. He could not recall ever hearing a knife speak to him.

     "Omar." It silently said to him. "Buy me. Take me home with you."

     Omar stared at the strange dagger for the next five minutes. To him it seem like a thing of beauty. He paid the pawnbroker twenty dollars and took the dagger home with him.

     The pawnbroker was glad to see Omar leave. He did not like the looks of him. He looked too odd with his staring into the display case and mumbling to himself.

     Later that night in Omar's shabby apartment the dagger talked to him once again. Omar had been waiting for over three hours for it to speak to him once again.

     "Take me out Omar. Put me in your pocket and we will go out for a walk."

     That is what it told him. He did what it asked him.

Together they walked out into the night.

     They walked for quite awhile. Back and fore around the block they aimlessly wondered. It was becoming late.            Normally steele did not like walking alone at night. But with the dagger in his pocket he did not feel alone. At three in the morning there was few other people out on Warroff Street.

     The only other person walking along that block where Omar was walking on was Mary Gibson. She was a cocktail waitress. She was walking home alone from work. Weighted down by bill that her ex husband left behind she was unable to afford a car of any sort.

     No one in the surrounding buildings could hear the dagger calling out to Omar. Urging him on as he stabbed the woman. But everyone could hear the screams of the dying waitress.

     The police were at Omar's door. They were calling for him to give himself up.

They knew it was him.

     People looking out their windows saw him do it. Many people knew Omar by sight. They told the police where he could be found.

     "What can I do?" Omar cried out to his bloodstain dagger.

     It said nothing to him. It was silent.

     "Tell me please...What can I do?" Omar was crying now.

     "Use me." Said the dagger. "Kill yourself and they can never arrest you."

     When the police forced open the door to Omar's apartment they found him dead in a pool of his own blood.

     The dagger was in his still warm hand.

THE END.

Copyright 2015 By Teel.

SOON TO BE A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE. A short story.

SOON TO BE A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE

     Jack did not like the movie at all. He thought it was bad television schlock. Bottom of the barrel trash of the worst kind. At one point he even consider turning off the TV set. But he decided he was going to sit through it all just this once. He did it so he would not have to make himself watch it in the future.

     He knew he would have to watch it.

     At the film's end the maniac was running through a room of dead cheerleaders screaming and ranting at the top of his lungs. The police rushed into the room and surrounded him. After a fight in which three of the cops were badly hurt the handsome detective punches the maniac repeatedly in the face and arrest him. Four cops drag him away in handcuffs as he swear revenge against the detective and the whole police force.

     The film ended soon after that last scene and Jack turned off the TV set as a commercial for diet cat food came on. He thought about sending the network a letter about how much he disliked the movie.

     A little while later there was a knock on the door of Jack's room.

     "Hey Jackson. Did you see the movie?" Said the man through the door.

     "Yes I did." He said with an annoyed growl. "They mixed up all the names, They got most of the facts wrongs, and that ugly actor didn't look a thing like me!" Jack griped to the guard.

THE END

Copyright 2015 By Teel.

FOR $10,000. A short story.

FOR $10,000


Copyright 2015 by Teel


     In the back pages of a large city newspaper there was a small plain ad listed the personal section.
     It read: Men and women wanted who will do anything legal for $10,000 in cash. No selling or hard work. No fee will be asked for.
     An open meeting will be held today at 3PM. Only the first 300 people will be seated at this meeting.
     The ad ended with the address of a nice hotel located in the downtown area. People answering the ad were to meet in a large meeting hall there.
     The room was set up with 300 folding chairs. A little more than half of them were full.


     At 3 o'clock the doors of the hall were closed by a pair of tall men in black suits. They stood by the door and looked forward to the front of the room.
     At the front of the room was a desk with a man dressed in white sitting there next to a pile of papers and a large box. Next to this desk was a microphone on a stand.
     The man in white stood up and walked up to the microphone and began to speak.

     "Will everyone here still wandering around the room please sit down. There should be enough chairs for everyone. I do not believe the room has been filled.

     If not it will not matter. This will be a short talk in any case. My assistants shall soon be locking the doors to this room and one will be allowed to leave the room until the end of my talk with you. So if anyone wishes to make use of the restroom now would be the time to do so."

     He stood there for a minute. No one seem to want to leave the room. He waved at the men in the dark suits and they locked the door of the hall.

     The man in white once again began to speak.

     "You are all here because you read or heard of an ad I placed in the newspaper. Everything in that ad is true. And within an hour you can leave this room with ten thousand dollars in cash. The only way you will leave this room without the money is if you do not want to take it. No one here will force you to take the money."

     "I am not going to tell you my name. You do not need to know it and most of you could not be able to pronounce it in any case. If I was to give out my name I would soon become the target of many kooks and weirdos. I am a business man and do not want to have my time taken up by such people."

     "I am going to cut right to the facts of why I am here talking to you. These are facts you may not believe. But you do not have to believe anything I said today to make ten thousand dollars. You do not even have to pretend to believe anything I tell you and you will still walk out of here with ten thousand dollars in cash without having to do anything but write down your name. You do not even have to use your real name if you wish. I do not care. I will not ask to see an I.D."

     "I am acting as an agent of the Devil. Yes the Devil. The Evil One. The Beast of the Pit. Whatever you wish to call him. Young lady will you please sit back down. The doors are going to stay locked until I am finished. I told you all this at the beginning of this meeting. No one is here to hurt anyone. I will be finished soon and you and anyone else who wants to may leave right away. In fact I would want you to leave. People who do not want the money will just be in the way at that point."

     "I am not a crazy man. But even if I was I still have a few million dollars in cash right here and I will give ten thousand dollars in cash to anyone who is willing to just sign their name to a simple contact that states that you will hand over you soul after death to me to sell, trade or use as I wish. Nothing else at all is require and no you do not have to sign with your blood. This is not some cheap occult movie."

     "This is completely confidential. No one outside of room will know about this and you will never be bother by any representative of my organization in your lifetime how ever long that may be. I promise you that."

     "If you still think that I am crazy that is alright. Go ahead and believe so if that will make you feel better about this offer. You will still make ten thousand dollars in cash if you want it. You do not have to believe a single word I say to you today.

     "A lot of you in this room may be going to Hell anyway. Why not earn some money for it if you are going anyway. Money to spend and enjoy in this lifetime. And for those of you who do not believe in God anyway. What have you got to lose? You got a lot to gain and nothing to lose with this deal. As I stated nothing will be required of you in your life time. Many of you I believe will lead long lives."

     "The doors will now be open and anyone who wishes to leave may now do so. Everyone else please form a single line in front of that table where my helpers will be sitting and waiting to help you. I have cash waiting for you just as soon as you sign you name. That is all you have to do. Sign and a stack of cash will be handed to you."

     "And like I said. If you wish you do not have to use your correct name on the contract. It is alright to use a fake name."

     "When the time comes no matter what name you use we will find you."

     The doors of the hall were opened up just then and a quite a few people went out of the place in a hurry.

Meanwhile a long line formed in front of the desk.

THE END

THE HOUSE AT THE END OF THE BLOCK. A short Story.

THE HOUSE AT THE END OF THE BLOCK

     Sam Loward's funeral was a very short one and there was only a few mourners beyond Loward's mother and his cousin Lisa. Sam really did not know many people.

     He really did not care to know many people. Lisa was glad that it was finish early in the day.

     Aside from wanting to get away from the depressing atmosphere of the funeral home she wanted to get to the business of cataloging the artwork of her cousin Sam.

     She wanted to get it over with as soon as she could.

Sam Loward's small home was at the very end of a dead end street in one of the older parts of town. It was all alone there since the other houses around it burnt down to the ground in a huge fire that swept through the neighborhood about five years ago. It was a strange miracle that Sam's house was not touched by the flames.

     The other houses were not rebuilt due to a series of on going lawsuits over the fire. Loward did not seem to miss having neighbors at all.

     Lisa drove into the driveway. She sat in the car for a little while. She was feeling strange. She came to this place about once a month over the years to look in on her cousin Sam. She felt it was a duly as a close relative to check up on him. He almost never left the house except to go to work. It seem odd to her to be there knowing that Sam would not be home and never would be there again.

     An odd feeling came over her. It was the same feeling she felt during the funeral.

     She got out of the car and walked across the unkempt lawn of dry dead grass and walked up to the door of the small house of white peeling paint. In all the time Sam lived there he never painted the house. Know Sam she thought he just never cared that the paint was peeling or that the grass was dead. Those were not things he cared about.

     She had no real wish to be there if Sam was not there. She was there only as a favor to her aunt. For more than ten years Sam had locked himself in this little house and worked on his paintings. Those paintings were his whole life. He left the house only to work and worked only to pay rent and buy art supplies. Sam's mother had never liked Sam's paintings which she consider unwholesome and wanted them out of the way as soon as possible. Had Lisa not talked her out of it she would have had all the paintings burned in one large bonfire.

     Lisa being an artist herself could not allow the paintings to be burnt. It was unthinkable to her to destroy the lifetime work of any artist. Beside it was her cousin Sam who taught her to draw. She owed it to him to save his artwork. They were the only things that had matter to him.      He really had nothing else. He really wanted nothing else.

     Lisa unlocked the door and after a half a minute of thinking it over she walked into the house. It was like walking back into the funeral home.

     Inside she found the living room as always bare of furniture except for a chair and a large wood table. On the table was a pile of art supplies and paints just sitting there waiting in vain for Sam to come and use them again.

     Lisa made a mental note to herself to take them for herself before she left.

     Other than those few items the room contain hundreds of paintings. They were piled one against the other along the walls of the living room. A dozen of the best were framed and hanging on the walls of the living room and the other rooms in the small house.

     Most of the pictures were only in black and white. Some had a little gray and maybe some red. Only a few were in full color. All the pictures were of monsters. Demons, giants,werewolves, and many indescribable. No people.            Sometimes something half human appeared in Sam's canvas fantasies.

     Lisa thought back to the time her cousin Sam first started those paintings. He was about 13 and she was eight.      Sam as a young man use to watch reruns of the old black and white monster movies on television. As far as Lisa knew he never bother to go out to see a movie in a theater. He never seem to leave the house.

     He taught her to draw the monsters he drew. Over the years Lisa practiced her artwork and became a commercial artist. Sam never progressed beyond drawing the monsters.        He did not want to. The monsters were his one obsession in art and in his life. From between the age of 13 he rarely left his home except for school. He would not have gone if he had not had to.

     He never went out on weekends or out for dates. Lisa wondered if he ever wanted to go out on dates. She could not imagine him talking to a woman.

     Day after day as a young man he sat in his room making sketches of monsters. After sometimes 20 or 30 sketches he would slowly make a painting from those sketches. He would work and rework a painting till he got it just the way he wanted.

     At age 20 he moved away from his mother's home. She wanted him to stop painting and take some interest in life outside of painting. She wanted him to travel and meet people. She felt his artwork was a sick substitution for a normal life. She was right of course.

     But he did not care about leading a normal life. And he did not want to listen to her nag him about it.

     He wanted no one to interfere with his painting. He got himself a job dish washing at a restaurant and rented this small house so he could paint in peace.

     His mother rarely saw him after he moved away. Once a year he would mail her a card on Mother's Day. He only lived six blocks from her. The post office where he bought his stamps was seven blocks away.

     Only his sudden death in that bus crash could make him stop painting. Only his death could separate him from his artwork. When his life flashed before his eyes in those last few seconds he most likely saw his paintings. Lisa could feel Sam's presents in the small living room. Lisa did not believe in ghosts. But she did have a strange feeling as if he was in the room with her. As if he was unwilling or unable to part from his paintings. They were his whole life. He would have never willingly left them behind. Only death could make him do that. They should be out where the public can see them. Lisa thought. When an artist dies his work stays behind to tell the world he was here.

     Lisa then went about the business of cataloging the paintings for the art dealer. She hoped Sam's paintings would find their way into the hands of those who would enjoy them. Otherwise they would end up in the back of Lisa's garage.

     After hours of sorting through the paintings she was surprise to find one painting that was not of a monster. It was hidden alone in a closet as if Sam did not want any one to see it except for himself.

     It was a painting of Lisa as a young woman. 

 THE END.

Copyright 2015 By Teel.

THE UNDERSTUDY. A short Story.

THE UNDERSTUDY

     The Old World Theater was running a production of Hamlet. The Old World Theater was known through out the state for it's fine Shakespearean productions.

     Tony Franklin was the director of the play. He was unset this evening. It was ten minutes till the curtains went up and Johnson Synblood the star performer was nowhere to be found.

     Franklin was not only upset that Synblood had not shown up. He was worried also. He had never known in all the plays over the years he worked with Synblood of him ever being late. He wondered if something had happen to him.

     He could not imagine anything short of death stopping Synblood from being there. Franklin could imagine a gang of kidnappers holding Synblood captive. Franklin figured that only that would keep Synblood away.

     Ben Freekson who worked as Synblood's understudy

was getting ready to take synblood's place. To said that Freekson was thrilled would be a gross understatement.          Never in the six month run of this production of Halmet had missed a single performance. He even worked the daytime shows that usually featured the understudies. Many people believed that Freekson resented Synblood for never giving him the chance to play the lead role of Hamlet. It was very lucky for Freekson that Synblood did not show up for the last performance of the play. It was his very last chance to play the leading role. A role any actor would kill for as the saying goes.

     The curtains went up on time with Freekson playing the role of Hamlet. Many people felt that Freekson did a good job in the role. But no one thought he was as good an actor as Synblood in the role. Many ticket holders asked for a refund because they were disappointed that Synblood was not performing.

     After the play a cast party was thrown by the backer of the play and the entire cast and crew was there. That is everyone except for Synblood and Sam Porter who worked as the prop man for the play.

     As Franklin was downing his second drink Sam called him over to look at something. At first Sam tried to pretend that he did not hear him. But Franklin realized that Sam was upset. Though that was not really unusual.

     "What is it Sam? Is there something missing again?" Sam took pride in keeping a close eye on all the props. Sometimes the crew would hide props from him to tease him.

     "Look at this Tony." Sam said as he pointed to the skull used in the 'Alas, poor Yorick' scene of the play.        "Well what about it?" Franklin could not understand why six months after the show started that Sam would be pointing out the prop skull to him. Franklin wanted to go on to his third drink.

     "It's not our prop skull. In fact it's a real one."

     "A real one?" Franklin took a closer look at it.

     Franklin was not sure what a real skull would look like. He was pretty sure what a bullet hole would look like. There seem to be one in the head of the skull over the left eye.

     A few days later the police matched the dental x-rays of the skull to the dental x-ray charts of Johnson Synblood.

     His headless body was found buried in the cellar of Ben Freekson's home. Synblood who had never missed a performance was there after all.

THE END

Copyright 2015 By Teel.

THE DEMON IN THE NIGHT. A short story.

THE DEMON IN THE NIGHT.

     The sun had just come up and the shadows were still long across the landscape.

     It was early in the morning. Tony always got up early when he went out to look for cans. He knew of at least three other caners in the area who were also looking for cans and would grab them all up for their selves if he did not get started before dawn. Of course Tony kept all the cans for himself too.

     Today Tony was looking for cans along the train tracks. His large plastic bag was almost half full with mostly still damp beer cans people had left behind after a night of partying out here where there was not one to check IDs.

     He found the cans one at a time for the most part. Then he came across a pile of beer cans along the side of the tracks. He placed his bag down and started to flatten the cans underneath his worn out dusty shoes.

     As he picked up the cans he notice a dead cat. It seem to have just died. The blood was still fresh around it. It looked as if it was gutted.

     Tony picked his bag back up and walked on. Very shortly he came across another dead cat. Then another. Then there was a spot along the tracks where there was about three or four more dead cats lying around. Tony was wondering why there should be so many dead cats in one spot. His wondering was interrupted by the sound of something running toward him. He turned around.

     The only thing he saw before he died was the large yellow teeth wrapping their selves around his face.

     The creature was spitting out blood as it ran along side the tracks. It had eaten too much and was feeling sick. The was sun was up and it was afraid. It always stayed hidden in the bushes in the daylight so no one would see it.

     It ran across the tracks and got behind the bushes where he had been hiding since he came to this place.

     A train drove by the bushes a little while later. As the creature watched the train cars drive by it dozed off to an uneasy sleep. It dreamed of home.

     The police picked up the pieces of the dead tramp and carried them away in plastic bags. They looked at all the dead cats and decided that a pack of dogs had killed the cats and the tramp looking for cans had also been attacked by the dogs.

     The owner of the dead cat disagreed. She told the policemen that the dead cats and the man could have only been killed by a group of satanists. She told them that they should not be blinded by the Devil. That all good Christians knew the works of the Devil. And she was a good Christian.

     The policemen told her that they will put it down in their report.

     For the next week the policemen would crack each other up by doing imitations of the woman.

     As the creature laid behind the bushes it dreamed of home. It dreamed it was home again. It was back in it's hut with it's mother and sisters and brothers. Outside the window of the hut the two suns shined brightly. It was never dark at home.

     It enjoyed the dreams of home and often was sad upon awakening from them.

     At the church bake sale Karen Toseli told everyone about how demon worshipers killed her cats. She told about how demon worshipers needed good Christian cats in order to do their evil rites against good people like herself.

     The new preacher tried to get Karen to calm down. She was frightening the children with her talk of demons and the end of the world coming soon.

     She told him that she was doing God's work and if he was a good Christian he would be warning people there about the demons around and among them.

     She told the preacher that the Devil made him blind to the truth and that he had no business being a preacher.

     After she walked away from him she stop to shake the dust off her shoe. Just like they said to do in the Bible when leaving unbelievers.

     It had a nightmare. It dreamed about the weird people who caught him in a net and put it into a cage. It dreamed about being in a darkroom wondering what was going to happen. Then the flash of light and then the fire. It dreamed of running away from the wreckage of the spacecraft. The horror of finding itself on a strange unknown world. The horror of not knowing the way back home.

     When the creature awoke it was dark again. It hated the dark. But the dark was the only time it could roam around free without being seen. The weird upright creatures here frighten it and it wanted to avoid them. The creature walked along the train track. It was hoping to find some more of the small furry animals to eat. The large weird creature he ate tasted terrible.

     It heard the meow of a cat. It ran toward the sound. Suddenly a loud blast filled the air. It fell across the train tracks dead. A large shotgun wound across it's chest.

     A few minutes later the police came out and found Karen carrying around a shotgun. She told them that she shot the demon the satanists called up. She then started to meow like a cat.

     She was going to tell them about how she got the demon to come to her by making cat noises but they were not listening to her anymore.

     They took the shotgun away from her and drove her to the mental hospital. They told the doctor that she was meowing like a cat and waving around a shotgun.

     A train ran over the body of the creature. The rats took care of the rest. There was nothing after awhile except for bones for anyone to find. That is if anyone cared to go looking for the demon that Karen Toseli kept ranting about.

     On a planet far from Earth a mother wonders whatever happen to it's youngest offspring. The other mothers of the village warn their small ones to beware of the strange creatures from beyond who would take them away from their home.

THE END

Copyright 2015 By Teel.