Time Killing - Mikey Pugs

It was a dim and dismal day in the eastern mountain region of Pennsylvania. All alone and out in a rural area lived a man, he was a middle aged man with lots of time on his hands, a loner, so he began to think. Was his thinking normal, or was his thinking psychotic?

The man was Laze, and as the sun set for the evening he headed up the mountain towards town. While driving he began to chew on the inside of his cheek. He had a taste for blood, and he also loved to watch himself bleed. He would often cut himself open with his pocket knife and watch himself bleed. Time can be really hard on some people, and Laze was no exception.

On his way down the main drag in town he looked around. He drove over to the skate park where the local children would play. It was mainly young men skating, and the girls would watch as they spoke on their cell phones to friends and family.

This night would be different for Laze then any other night. You see Laze was tired of watching himself bleed so he had a plan. Was his plan murder, or was it humane? Well it first turned out that Laze was just looking for a friend to talk to. Someone he could share his day with and talk about life. When you go on like Laze and have no one to speak with from day to day you grow lonely like a hermit, and you become recluse. This night would turn out to be a night that Laze and the rest of the community would never ever forget!

Laze was parked near the skate park, and he began to watch the young boys skate in the park. They were doing tricks and jumping off the wooden ramps and Laze went into a zoned out state of mind. His blood pressure began to rise and his forehead grew moist with fresh sweat. He thought for a bit and then opened his jeep door and slammed it shut causing the teenagers to look his way!

One of the kids began to speak with another about Laze, he pointed out that this strange and bearded looking dirty man was watching them. Laze started up his jeep and left to drive around the corner and think about what he wanted to do? As he drove around the block he stopped at the near by stop sign and again zoned out only to be brought to by the sound of a horn honking from the police cruiser behind him. He suddenly put on his signal and began to turn right and he watched his mirror as the police cruiser turned left going in the opposite direction. As Laze neared the skate park again he stopped to clean off his passengers side seat. Was he making room for a passenger, or was there private documents on the seat he didn't want anyone to see as they neared his vehicle?

He began to drive up to the skaters as they happened to be leaving the park. As he drove up he then stopped and said to the one young teenage girl, "Excuse me young lady, aren't you Fester's daughter?"

The girl named Ann replied, "Yes I am, but who are you?"

Laze began to tell Ann that he was good friends with her father and knew him all his life! He also said that her father had an emergency and that the reason for him staring earlier at her and her friends was because he was supposed to come and pick her up.

Ann was surprised. "Well, ah, okay... I guess that would be alright being that I have so far to walk."

Laze smiled and said, "No problem, that is why your father asked me to come and take you home!"

So Ann said good bye to her friend's and then walked over and hopped into Lazes' old Jeep Cherokee.

They began to drive, and the radio was on low pumping out old fashioned blue grass music.

Once Laze began to approach Ann's house she said, "It's right up here then!"

Laze again began to zone out as he drove, driving right passed Ann's house and he was brought back to reality by her yelling, "Hey, I thought you knew where we were going? You just drove right past our house!"

Laze said to Ann, "Well I have to go by my place first to get some money I promised your mother." He then extended his hand to Ann. "Oh, by the way, the name is Laze."

Ann kind of scared extended her sweaty palm and said, "Nice to meet you, lets just hurry up so that I can get home."

Laze smiled and shook her hand and began the trip up the mountain.

As they left town Ann began to think to herself that she never seen Laze around and never heard of her parent's talking about him or his family. She started to get worried as they left the small town of Creamville and headed up the dark and dreary mountain further and further into the woods. When they finally reached the top of the mountain Laze turned left and then pulled off the road.

Ann asked him, "What are you doing now?"

He replied, "I am just getting out to pee quick and then putting a chew in, and then we will be down to my place and back in town before you know it."

Ann relaxed then, just sitting there staring out the side window looking into the dark and creepy woods where only a few years ago she remembered 3 girls from the next town over were murdered.

After a short while Laze jumped back in and then spit one last time out his door and then he slammed it shut.

Ann noticed a white and dirty rope sticking out of Laze's pocket. She said nothing as the old jeep began to creep back on the road and travel down the mountain. They approached Laze house and he stopped to check his mail box. He then pulled up around the back of the house and the only light was an old arc light.

Ann noticed a barn type building with no doors and no light inside! She asked Laze, "Do you have horses or any other animals?"

Laze said, "Just an old dog named Dusty, but he lives in the house with me."

The jeep then came to a stop, the old engine sputtered as it came to a halt. Then Laze opened his creaky door and began to cough as he got out.

Ann mentioned, "It's very dark out here and getting cold, and my mother will be worried, and I hope my dad is okay!"

Laze ignored her as he slammed his door and walked around the back of the old jeep.

Just as he got to the passengers side door he stopped as a car drove by and honked the horn. Laze mumbled to himself in disgust as he was a loner and kept to himself. He also realized that even though his house sat back off the road, the neighbors could see him at night when he was under the arc light. Laze took out his chew and began to spit and cough. Then pulled the rope from his pocket and opened up the passengers side door.

Ann got very scared, but she just looked into Laze's evil looking eyes and said nothing.

He asked her to get out, and explained the rope was to walk Dusty around the property.

She then breathed a sigh of relief.

As they approached the porch Laze all of a sudden snapped, it was like a piece of his brain popped! He grabbed Ann and covered her mouth as he began to tie her up!

Ann screamed but it did no good, and she shook and tried to free herself but Laze was too strong. He tied her hands behind her back and then threw her on the ground and began to tie up her feet.

He laughed out loud in a horrible and psychotic manner. He also told Ann if she made one sound he would cut her head off, and he then pulled out his pocket knife. He stopped in thought, he wasn't sure what to do next, even though he thought of this day for years and years he never thought he would have what it took to carry this out.

There was an old rag in his pants that he took out and shoved in Ann's mouth. She began to cry, and then Laze got up and grabbed her by her long blond hair and pulled her towards the barn! She kicked and screamed but it did no good. The years that Laze spent underground working in the near by coal mines made him strong.

As they approached the barn Laze grunted as he struggled to find the trap door that was an old fall out shelter in case anything happened. Laze was prepared for the worst, his schizophrenic personality drove him to do many things that a normal sane person would consider odd.

Then he found the door and pulled it up. Ann noticed in shear terror the stench coming from the hole. As Laze picked her up by her hair again and threw her down in the hole she went through several cob webs and then hit the cold dirt ground hard! Laze walked down the wooden planks drawing the door closed as he approached the bottom. Then he reached around and pulled a string which turned on a little old dim light.

Ann began to tremble as the light spread she noticed some big rats! Also she noticed what she thought was causing the stench, a dead deer with a hole in its side that the rats had been chewing on. She screamed in pure terror, nothing came out, except laughter in the background coming from Laze. He got up and walked over to the corner and came back with an ax! Ann curled up and prepared for the worst, thoughts were racing through her head of her parents, and her friends, also why she had gotten in the old jeep in the first place. None of this mattered now, Laze had her alone and he was going to release years of depression and anger on Ann.

Showing no mercy, Laze raised his hands above his head with the ax shining off the dim light. Ann began to move her eyes all around the room in terror, and she noticed the rats eating the deer from the inside out. Thoughts were racing very fast, she wondered if the rats would be eating her soon, or if Laze would change his mind as he held the ax above his head in a crazed psychotic laughter!

Then without warning Laze began to scream aloud, "Ahhh, you dirty little whore, I am going to make you suffer like I have suffered after all these years! your father is fine, but that bastard fired me years ago, and now you are going to pay for what he did to me!"

It turns out that Ann's father Bill was Lazes' supervisor in the old meat packing plant in town. After years in the mines Laze began to have trouble breathing from all the coal dirt, so he took a job cleaning up at the local meat packing plant.

Ann was totally defenseless as she screamed in terror, nothing was coming out though because of the rag in her mouth. Without any second thoughts, Laze swung the ax and chopped off Ann's foot! The blood began to flow as Ann passed out. Laze went to a knee and then reached down and began to touch the blood. He smelled it and thought of the days spent alone, cutting himself, the pain, the anger, and everything else. He then tasted Ann's blood, and again repeated this.

Ann suddenly awoke and was breathing very heavily. What she didn't know is that her foot was totally chopped off. The rats then came towards her foot, they began to chew and squeal. Fighting over the foot, Laze groaned at them and began to swing the ax at them as Ann watched in pain and terror. He then raised the ax again and suddenly he heard a noise out side.

He quickly turned off the light and whispered to Ann, "If you make one sound I will chop off your head."

She remained silent, but in pain and was bleeding profusely.

The lights coming up the drive way began to shine towards the barn, and then they went out. Laze slowly climbed up the old splintered wooden planks and slowly open the old trap door. What he seen would shock him.

It was Ann's father Bill, it turns out one of her friends called Ann's house looking for her and when her mother Andrea told her friend she wasn't home the friend noted that she had gotten in an old rusty colored jeep with a middle aged bearded man. Ann's mother knew right away it was the crazed psychotic Laze that her husband fired years ago and spoke of from time to time. She then ran into the living room and told Bill, and he immediately grabbed his car keys and headed out of town for Lazes' house! He knew the talk around town of Laze, and he was very worried.

Just as he began to get out of the car Laze quietly closed the trap door and slid an old cement block on it, and then he walked in the dark towards Bill.

Bill heard a noise and spotted Laze coming out of the barn. He said, "Hey, where the hell is my daughter, tell me now or I am calling the police!"

Laze laughed and said, "Go ahead you son of a bitch, try to call them!"

Laze knew that there was no cell phone service over the mountain on his property. As he approached Ann's father her father noticed blood on his hands and pants. He then turned and started to rush to get back into the car as Laze grabbed him from behind and threw him to the ground.

Then out of no where came screams, "Help, I am down here, help me please!" Ann had apparently gotten the old greasy rag out of her mouth and once again she could be heard!

The two men began to fight, Laze punched Bill in the face repeatedly knocking out his teeth! The blood began to run from Bill's mouth, and again seeing the blood Laze zoned out.

This was Bill's chance, he noticed Laze was not all together with reality. Bill kicked Laze in the groin area and right away Laze fell to the ground and moaned. Bill tried to get up but the repeated blows to the head caused him to become dizzy and very sick. As he went to get up Laze having the super human psychotic strength he did, punched Bill in the head, and then the throat.

Bill began to gasp for air, then Laze reached into his dirty and bloody pants pocket and pulled out his pocket knife. He opened it up and raised it in the air and then stabbed Bill in the chest area! Bill began to scream in terror, his life flashed before him, he noticed the dark moonless sky, he noticed Lazes' psychotic facial expression, and then he noticed a foul odor. Laze stabbed him again in the stomach, Bill began to bleed profusely!

Looking down on Bill then Laze stuck his finger's in Bill's open stomach wound and began to taste his blood.

Bill thought for sure it was the end, he would never see his wife again, his friends, family, and then he suddenly thought of Ann.

As Laze continued to watch Bill bleed and taste his blood he felt a real sharp pain in his back. Bill had already passed out in pain, losing blood profusely! Laze began to feel light headed and he noticed the pain coming from his back was an ax wound.

In the scuffle Ann managed to free herself and grabbed the old bloody ax and hobbled up the old wooden planks in a fight for her life. Just as she reached the top she pushed and knew something was weighing the door down. As she pushed, the old trap door would open only a few inches and then go closed on her. She placed the ax between the open trap door and the barn floor and used it to pry the door open. She then crept towards the noise behind the car noting it was her father's car under the dim arc light.

Ann approached a zoned out Laze and then lifted the ax in terror with all her strength and slammed it down into the middle of Lazes' back! The blow was enough to knock the wind out of his old dusty coal filled lungs. He gasped for air, and then he fell onto Bill who then awoke.

Ann went over to her father, she was bleeding very badly as her foot was missing. She noted to herself how badly her father was bleeding from the head and chest areas.

Her father said, "Help me get this maniac off me sweetie so we can go for help!"

Ann then pulled with all her might and her father pushed in pain as Laze turned over on his side, the ax stopping him from rolling over completely. She helped her father up as they tried to make for the car which was near by.

As they approached the driver's side door Ann asked her father if he was well enough to drive?

Bill replied, "Just get me in the car so we can get the hell out of here, quickly Ann!"

Just as Ann reached for her father's arm to push him in the car, she was suddenly ripped backwards.

Laze was once again showing his anger and disgust for Bill, all those years of sitting in his house, cutting himself because he was an outcast. The psychotic episode gave him incredible strength. Ann hit the ground hard and was almost knocked unconscious.

He grabbed Bill and yanked him out of the car! He then jumped on Bill and stuck his finger's in Bill's stomach, then he began to push and stuck his whole fist in Bill's stomach. He reached deep in anger and madness and pulled out Bill's insides. Bill slowly passed out and his life began to slip away.

Laze got up with the ax still in his back and picked up Ann by the throat. She tried to scream again, but seeing her father lying on the ground now dead her strength faded. In Ann's mind she was going to die for sure, she just wanted it to be quick. Laze pulled her by the neck, her leg bleeding from the missing foot and now the dirt began to stick to her open wound, she passed out.

When Ann finally awoke there was light coming through the crack in the trap door. She immediately knew she was once again in the hole beneath the barn floor. As she looked down one of the rats was chewing on her leg, she stared, it was painless for Ann now. She was obviously in shock, her wounded leg numb, her life ripped away, trapped in the dark dirty hole.

Then out of no where she heard footsteps in the barn, and then she heard a sound that she had not forgotten, and would never forget the rest of her life; A cough, and then, psychotic laughter!

Ann began to scream in shear terror, and then she too began to laugh hysterically as she went insane.

At last finally a lonely, psychotic, recluse had something to do with his time.

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Imaginary Friends - Yolanda Jackson

Chapter One

Everyone had or has imaginary friends; what do yours tell you to do? Well, I’ll tell you about my friends. Back in the 1980's, I was living the worthless life of an abused child, one that society doesn’t care about. I was what they called poor white trash; my father was nowhere around and my mother was a whore and drug addict. Every night she would bring different men into the house, hoping to score enough money for a hit, and most of the time she would sell me to them. I was raped, beaten and molested, but she didn’t care; my innocence was making her rich. Instead of the men asking for her, they’d asked for me. Yes, I tried to fight back, but the men were too strong for me. I called out for my mother, but she ignored my pleas; she sat in the room and smoked her cocaine as the men had their way with me. She never came to check on me; she didn’t know if I was alive or dead before she set up another john. I begged her not to sell me anymore, but she didn’t care, that cocaine was more important to her than I was.

While the men were having their way with me; I began to blackout and go into a world that I called my own. I had to step out of reality in order to keep the little bit of life I had left in me. When my mother saw that selling me was a great idea, the best thing that had ever happened to her, she continued to do it more and more. I tried to run away, but was always caught. My mother began to lock me in the old cellar; it was damp and creepy, there was no light, no windows and every day was the same as night. I was afraid, I began to scream; the dark frightened me so terribly that I would wet my pants. No matter how often I wanted to stop from going to the bathroom on myself, I couldn’t. The fear was so deep; I could feel it in my bones. I begged my mother that I would do whatever she wanted, that I would be a good girl, but she never answered me; she left me in the basement for days, weeks, months.

The men would come down with a kerosene lamp and do their business with me. I got so sick of the abuse and the rapes that I began to talk to myself. I was trying to convince myself that it would be okay, that one day my mother would love me and make everything all right, but that day never came. I waited patiently; I closed my eyes and prayed for a miracle, and yet the miracle never came, it was always ‘in the works’.

I sat in the corner of the dark, damp cold cellar, crying my eyes out, wanting to be set free, wanting to be back upstairs with my mother. I was so afraid that I began to make up imaginary friends, a group of people that would love and protect me, a group of friends that would never let anything happen to me. As I sat there, the first friend I created was Johnny. He was a white guy with really blonde hair; dressed like a cowboy and always toted a gun in each of his holsters. Johnny was a cool cat that always told jokes, very sarcastic ones, and smoked the hell out of some cigarettes; he loved Marlboros. Even though it was dark, I could still see the creation of my friend in my mind, and I would stare into his blue eyes, like a damsel in distress, and hope that Johnny would save me.

Then my little fantasy would be over, and I’d come back to reality. But, when the memories of the rapes and abuse got to be too much for me to handle, I’d make Johnny appear in my mind to help me, and then he’d disappear. Until one day, or night, I never could tell because I was locked in the fucking cold dark cellar, sitting there fully awake, I began to smell cigarette smoke! At first I thought I was still in my fantasy world, but I wasn’t; I remembered waking myself from my fantasy. Then I got scared; could Johnny really be alive? Could I have the power to raise my thoughts from the dead? Could my fantasy come to life?

Well, it did! While sitting in the corner, I could feel the soft clouds of smoke grace my face, and from a distance I could see a red light in the background. I was afraid and began to move around in the dark, trying to make my imaginary friend go away. I covered my eyes with my hands; when suddenly I felt a soft touch pull my hair. I was so afraid to turn around; I kept my eyes closed and counted to ten, hoping that whatever I had created would go away. But it didn’t; it came closer and closer, until I was forced to open my eyes.

I screamed as I saw this figment of my imagination come to life. I screamed and screamed, but no one could hear me; there was a party going on upstairs and the music was too loud. I screamed so much that I lost my voice, and Johnny just stood in the corner, smoking his cigarettes, laughing at me.

"Dude, chill out," he said.

But, I was in a state of shock; I had just been fucking scared shitless because my imagination had come to life, and this shit was scary. It took hours for me to calm down, but when I did, Johnny was still standing in the corner, only this time he was playing with his gun, twirling and spinning it around his fingers like a toy. He glowed in the dark and I got a better look at his face; he was perfect, just like I had created him, but his blue eyes glowed a faint red and that was disturbing. Nevertheless, I was happy to know that I had a friend to be with me and chase out the bad guys. Johnny pulled out a deck of old cards, I could tell that they had been used before, from the wear on the back of the cards, and in the light of his glow, we played go fish and memory match.

Johnny always let me win; he was the perfect man, he was the father I could only dream of having. He was also a great storyteller; he told me of back in the old days how he used to rob banks and could outrun the sheriff of the town, and of days spent sleeping on the open range and getting run off the land by the owners. These stories, to me, were very comforting and relaxing. For the first time in months, I was able to fall off asleep without a care in the world; for the first time I was not afraid to sleep alone, the cellar never frightened me anymore. Johnny was here to save me and protect me from all the evil men that had hurt me.

I could see him pacing the floor at night, he was talking with someone, but I couldn’t see who that was. I didn’t care, I was happy to have peace of mind and my own bodyguard, but I was concerned that Johnny was talking to someone or something, and whatever it was, it was a heated conversation. All I could see were Johnny’s lips moving and he kept looking back over his shoulder at me. I overlooked his mischievous ways and began to drift off to sleep, for the first time in a long time I could close my eyes without the fear of finding a strange man on top of me. With Johnny there, I was completely safe, nothing could hurt me ever again. Johnny was my hero, he was always there, but seemed occupied, as if something else required his attention. But, I didn’t mind, as long as I got peace and quiet.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming down the cellar stairs. A voice shouted out, "You little bitch, where are you? Come and play with daddy."

I quickly ran behind Johnny to protect me and he didn’t let me down.

Out of the darkness, Johnny approached the john and said, "Now, that's no way to treat a young lady."

For a minute, I didn’t think that the two would be able to see each other; after all, Johnny was just my imagination. But, something strange happened, they could both see each other, and the john became very afraid.

"Who the hell are you? I paid for her first," shouted the john at Johnny.

"Well, I’m her new best friend; and your worst nightmare," said Johnny.

The john pushed Johnny out of the way and headed toward me, groping my chest and private parts. Out of the blue, Johnny began to shoot his gun at the john over and over again; it seemed like Johnny was never going to stop. Finally, I went over and prevented him from putting another bullet in the john. At first, I was a little terrified, but it served that john right; I was young enough to be his daughter and he was paying my mother to sell me to him. From the glow off of Johnny, I could see the blood splatters all over the cellar walls, I could see the guy’s head full of bullet holes and his eyes rolled back and facing the heavens.

For once in my life, I felt so powerful and unafraid. Johnny loved it too, he began to kiss and caress his gun; then he took his old handkerchief and wiped the bloodstains off. Johnny wanted to do it again, he wanted to kill, he loved the idea of killing. I told him that we had to get to the top of the stairs and escape, but he seemed reluctant to go up there. I let him know that it would be all right; then he confided in me that when grown ups are around; kids tend to forget about their imaginary friends.

I said, "Oh no, not me I’d never forget about you, I love you!"

Johnny just smiled, giving me a soft peck on the cheek and held my hands; his eyes began to turn red again, and although it frightened me, I pretended it didn’t exist because I wanted him around, the first man in my life that never wanted anything from me. Johnny was the perfect gentleman and I was willing to overlook his faults. My gut was telling me that something was wrong, but for whatever reason, I ignored my gut feeling and began to enjoy the pleasure of revenge.

Before we went upstairs, Johnny told me that we had to get at least four more friends. He let me know that I had the power to conjure up anything I wanted, and in order for me to be totally safe I had to kill all of those evil people upstairs, and all throughout the world. At first it didn’t sound right, especially when his eyes began to glow red again. When Johnny saw me thinking too hard, he reminded me how he had protected me, and how, if I had many more imaginary friends, I could be protected for life. The offer sounded good, and I jumped on board; besides, what could go wrong with just a few more imaginary friends? Not only would I be safe, but I could help other abused children that were in the same situation. So, for about an hour, I conjured up images of the perfect friends that I’d want to save and protect me.

First, I closed my eyes and said, "Samson, come forward."

And, he did. I could hear his huge footsteps in the background. I slowly opened my eyes, and saw my imagination come to live. Samson was a huge black gorilla, at least nine feet tall and over a ton. He had the biggest brown eyes, and his coat was so soft; I just ran up and hugged him tightly. At first, he didn’t move or make any loving motions toward me, but then Johnny spoke up.

"Yo, Samson, you big ape, give the little girl a hug."

Suddenly Samson warmed up and hugged me with his huge paw-like hands. That was the softest coat I had ever felt. But, as I was excited to meet another one of my imaginary friends, Johnny was pushing me to make more.

He kept on telling me, "We need at least two more."

So, then I conjured up Emily. She was very spooky, her skin was a pale ashen color, and she looked as if she’d been dead for years! She was really skinny and limber, the same age as I was, but she was a little shy; her long black hair covered one side of her face. I finally built up enough nerve to approach her.

I called out, "Emily!"

She just stood there like a zombie, slowly moving in an awkward fashion. Her legs and arms looked as if they were broken, but that was just the way she moved and walked; like an animal on all fours. Finally, when I called to her again, she answered with saliva coming out of her mouth. I went over and hugged her, but I could feel the evil coming from inside her. Something just wasn’t right, but I wanted to be free so bad that I once again overlooked all of the common sense that Jesus had given me.

And, last but not least, I created an old man named Walter. I liked to call him Sir Walter; he was nicely dressed, always in a white tux, and with dark shades on. He was at least seventy years old and carried an old wooden cane. I loved Walter’s silver hair and I made him to help me keep the others in line. But, what was disturbing about Walter was that he had no eyes, and worms lived in the socket. These worms were Walter’s friend; he wouldn’t let me take them out, he loved those worms like pets.

Once I had all of my friends together in one room, they began to whisper to each other, as if they had known one another for years. I told them to stop it; I didn’t like being left out. They all apologized in sneaky voices, but I was just glad that they had; for once someone said that they were sorry for something they’d done to me. Now it was time to take revenge on my mother and all of her friends. We walked up the cellar steps like a big bad gang.

After Samson tore down the locked door, for the first time in my life, I had all the confidence I needed. Once I made it to the top, I could hear the loud music, and I could smell the drugs in the air. Anyone who wasn’t having sex was snorting cocaine.

"Lil girl, go back in your cave," shouted one of my mother's friends.

I became very angry and told Emily to scare the daylights out of her. I watched as Emily crawled on top of her. As the girl began to scream, Emily put her entire hand down the girl’s throat and ripped out her vocal cords. Blood went everywhere. The music was so loud that no one could hear her. Even though it was a bit gross, I loved it. I began to enjoy someone else’s pain, the same way they had enjoyed mine.

Now it was payback time. I ordered Samson to go through the house and smash anything he wanted, kill as many as he saw fit. He was happy; a big smile came over his face. He began to pound his chest and bellowed with a loud roar, I had to cover my ears because it was so loud. Off Samson went, smashing everything in the house, putting huge holes in the walls. I could hear the people screaming and falling over each other, most of them thought they had a buzz from the cocaine, but little did they know that it was real. Many of them began to run, but Samson threw them against the walls like rag dolls. I could see people flying through the air; everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I was guarded by my four friends, I was untouchable.

Samson went through the house like a whirlwind, ripping electric cords out of sockets, tearing down ceiling fans, and knocking over television sets. No one was safe in the house, and that was the way I liked it; because I was never safe in my own home, no one else should be either. I saw Samson pick up one man and break him in two, his body’s top half went one way and the bottom the other. I watched as Samson pulled out his spine and threw it against the wall.

Then, as one man tried to escape, Walter tripped him with his cane so Samson could catch him. The more the people screamed, the more pleasure I got from watching their deaths. For the first time in my life, I was in control; no one would be able to hurt me again. While Samson was destroying the house, and Emily scared people, I sent Johnny to execute as many people as he wanted. His eyes lit up, and before I could say go, Johnny was gone. I could hear the gunshots in the air, the sounds of dead bodies plunging to the floor and the wicked laugh of Johnny. I didn’t care; I wanted to let him have all the fun he wanted.

Walter stayed constantly by my side, nagging me about how we had to clean up and get rid of the bodies. He was more the mother hen, making sure we all did what we were suppose to. Blood was everywhere; one wall looked as if someone had painted it red from all of the blood splatters. Then, as Walter was giving me my chore list, I heard my mother's voice, she was begging for her life. She was in the kitchen on her knees asking Johnny to forgive her, begging and pleading for her worthless life. She turned and looked at me, as if I was supposed to help her; after all she had done to me, she wanted me to save her.

"You have to be kidding," I said.

But she continued to beg. I then had the brightest idea; I called for Samson to come into the kitchen. When he showed up, I told him to make a hole in the wall and stick my mother in it. Johnny tied her hands and legs, and then I called Emily to tear out her voice. Emily came quickly, stuffed her hand into my mother's throat and ripped out her vocal cords. I could see my mother tremble as she held onto her throat, blood beginning to fill her airways, and I watched her slowly die, but that was not the end to her torture. I had the walls of the house sealed up.

All through the night, the five of us placed the dead bodies in the walls, and to make sure they didn’t stink, we wrapped them in sheets with sweet smelling incense. For two days, we cleaned the house and hid the bodies in the walls, until the house was like new. There were no signs of there ever being any killings or even someone living there. I was very proud of what I had done, the world was now a safer place with my mother and her friends gone, but there was lots more to do; there were many more children like me to saved.

I felt like an agent of revenge, making all the wrongs right. Not one day went by that I was regretful, I wasn’t sorry that my mother was dead, she deserved everything she got. She left me to suffer at the hands of her friends, now I hoped she was in hell suffering too. As days and weeks went by, I was having a blast with my imaginary friends. Walter would cook and Samson would eat most of the food. We sat at the table like a family; I even took them outside to play. Johnny loved the rural outdoors; he said it reminded him of his old west days.

I’d play with my friends, and children would laugh and call me a freak as they passed by; it seemed no one could see my friends but me. The children would run away from me or walk on the other side of the street. I didn’t care, I loved the world I was in; somehow my mind didn’t conform to reality, I was always in a dream. One day, the children were coming home from school and Samson and I were playing in the front yard.

One kid yelled out, "You fucking freak!"

Something inside of me just snapped. I told Samson to go and get that kid. He wasted no time charging after the kid like a wild animal. Finally, I could see the fear on the kid's face; the boy turned pure white. I laughed hysterically, I couldn’t stop; it seemed so funny to me, even when Samson bit off his head with one chop. Blood spurted everywhere, and because we were in a rural town, there was no one around. I watched as Samson swallowed the boy's head and then regurgitate it back up, that was so cool to me. The boy's body kept walking on its own, and I let it walk for hours in the back yard. As the blood drained from the neck we even played ring around the neck to see who could get three of their rings around it as the body walked without a head. Of course, Johnny won, followed by Emily. We had a blast, until there was a knock on the door. Samson grabbed the child and placed his body in the cellar and put its head in the outdoor septic tank.

I let Walter answer the door, because he was the only one suitable, most of us had blood all over our clothes and hands. At the door stood the sheriff; he asked questions about a missing boy. Walter played it smooth, he denied everything, he’d never seen a child, and told the officer that no children stopped at this house because of his sick daughter, that every child in the area was afraid of her.

The officer agreed and said, "How true you are."

Walter gave him a fake smile and the officer went on his way; he was one of those dumb officers that never paid attention to his surroundings. Because, if he had, he would have noticed the bloody handprints on the side of the house where he was standing, less than a foot away from him. I began to laugh, law enforcement was a joke, and we could go on killing for years without anyone ever noticing anything. As the police officer pulled away, I suddenly saw him stop the car, as if he was going to turn around. I began to get a little worried; then he got out of the car to shut the trunk, he had accidentally left it open and it was flapping in the wind.

I smiled and said to myself, What a stupid cop. Then I went on my way, cleaning the blood from the side of the house, and then retrieved the boy's body from the cellar.

Suddenly, Johnny said, "What is your name, and what shall we call you?"

For a second, I paused and realized that my mother never took the time to teach me my name; I was always called "hey you", "asshole" or "bitch". I had no answer for Johnny. I was so sad to realize that I didn’t have a name. I quickly ran into my mother's bedroom and began to search for anything about who I was, where I was born, or who I really belonged to. I found nothing, not even a baby picture, no diaries; nothing related to my birth, until I went to the back of her closet and pulled out a yellow envelope. On it was written "my worst nightmare". I opened it, and inside were pictures all tore up into tiny little pieces, with a note saying that she’d never wanted me, she wanted to kill me, but her heart wouldn’t let her do it. So, to take revenge on her heart, she’d abuse me until the pain she felt from being raped by her father was gone.

My mother was raped by her own father and I was the product of that! I guessed that's what led her to prostitution and drugs. The letter went on to say that she tried many times to kill me, whether it was holding my head underwater or kicking me down the stairs when I was younger, but for some reason I wouldn’t die. I was like a black omen to my mother; she hated every fiber of my being. One thing she mentioned that was strange was that every time she tried to kill me, a bright white light would appear. I asked Walter what that meant, and he told me it was them trying to protect me. They needed me alive so they could stay alive. He said that every abused or neglected child was so badly damaged mentally that they formed imaginary friends like him, Johnny, Emily and Samson. Without an abused child, or a mentally disturbed person, they would also die. Well, I promised Walter that I wouldn’t let them die, I would never leave them.

Emily crawled on the bed next to me. "How about we name you baby doll?"

"I like it," I said to Emily.

She smiled and crawled back off of the bed. I ran to the stove and burned all of my mother's papers; I was upset and angry that she hadn’t cared enough for me to even take the time to give me a name. But, who cared, I had my imaginary friends and that’s all that mattered. I was something to them, and they were something to me. Then Johnny came into the kitchen with excitement on his face, even as I finished burning the letters.

"Men are at the door with a few women, and they are calling out for your mother."

I quickly ran to the window and took a peak; they were nothing more than my mother's crack friends and her johns. I told Walter to get the door, and then move so that they couldn’t see him. He did so and then vanished through the walls. I could still see his outline; I knew that he was there watching and protecting me. My mother's crack friends came in, they smelled like booze and their clothing was filthy; all of them gave off a terrible odor. They came in, stumbling and making themselves at home.

"Where’s that sweet young thing of yours?" shouted one of the johns.

He was talking about me. I had watched as this man raped me over and over, while my mother stood and watched. I told Emily to go and scare the shit out of him. She crawled toward him with her cripple-like body. I watched as she caressed his penis. He loved it; he never looked down to see who was doing it.

"You like that, baby?" said Emily.

"Oh, yes I do!" said the john.

When he finally looked down, he saw Emily's ghost-like appearance and he began to scream, he screamed so hard that his vocal cords burst in his throat and he began to drown in his own blood. Then Emily ripped his penis out and took it to the bathroom to flush it down the toilet. The john shivered in pain, he couldn’t talk; he felt what I was feeling back when he was raping me and I couldn’t scream or I would be beaten or raped even harder.

I ordered Samson to place the body in the walls of the house. He wasted no time picking up the john, who was still alive, and pushed him into the opening in the walls. I saw the john screaming, begging for my help; it felt good not being the powerless one, it felt good to see someone else beg me for mercy. Finally, I was getting my revenge; I couldn’t wait any longer on the Lord, I had to take matters into my own hands.

Then I ordered Emily into the next bedroom, where some more of my mother’s girl friends were having a ball smoking a line of crack. I sat by the door in the hallway thinking, do I really want to kill them or not? I saw the way they wasted their lives, smoking balls of crack one after the other. I came to the decision that I would let them go, but when I came into the room and asked them to leave, they laughed at me over and over again. The laughter was so wicked that it pierced my heart, for some reason I just couldn’t take the laughter any more, and it hit my emotions so hard that I began to sweat. Beads of sweat ran down my face, the palms of my hands became wet; soon I had the urge to kill them both. I ordered Johnny to kill them, he loved shooting his gun, and he loved killing, this was a piece of cake for him.

Johnny jumped on the bed and began to pump the ladies’ bodies with bullets. I watched as they tried to leave and were blocked at the doorway by Emily and Walter, they loved to see death themselves, but the bullet noise was too much for my ears, I had to leave the room. From the kitchen, I could hear the ladies screaming and calling out for help, but there was no one to help them, they were way out in the country where houses were far apart. This was hillbilly country. I could hear Samson cracking the bodies of the ladies, getting them ready to be put into the walls.

Walter and I had a ritual; we would bathe the dead bodies, and embalm them like the Egyptians did their dead. To me, this was funny and exciting at the same time. One by one, Samson crushed the bones until they couldn’t be crushed anymore, and then handed the dead over to Walter and me. We prepared a special bath, Emily cleaned up the blood; sometimes I would catch her licking the walls that were covered with blood, and I would have to spank her like a little child. But, we were a family, I was the head of the household and in charge; we ate as a family, we laughed as a family, but most importantly we lived happily like a family.

After the house was clean from all of the killings, I noticed that we were running out of food. Feeding four people and Samson was starting to be a strain, but ultimately, I didn’t mind; they were my protectors and I was in charge of taking care of them. So, I told them we would go to the store and shop. First of all, I had a little money that my mother had left behind, and the store was just a small corner market that operated on credit. Walter drove the raggedy old pickup trunk that one of the johns had left behind, and off we went. For the first time in months, I was leaving the house; the sun looked so bright and the sky was so clear. I felt relaxed and happy; I had everything a girl could want, all the way to the store I kept my head out the window like a dog, wanting to see everything.

My life finally seemed to make a little sense, I was happy and so were my imaginary friends, but the more I kept them around, the more they became real. I noticed this when Walter stopped for gas; it seemed as if people could see him, but not the others.

When I asked why that was, all Walter could say was, "One at a time."

So I accepted that and thought to myself, I’ll have a real family in a few more months, every one of my friends will be alive and live among the living.

Well, we made it to the store and we began to pick out our favorite foods. Emily loved jelly; I got her every kind imaginable. We got tons of bread and meat for Samson, noodles and pancakes for Johnny and all Walter liked was tea and soups. I was like a kid in a candy store; I got everything that I ever wanted, candies and all.

"Not too much, you’ll get a bellyache," said Walter.

Suddenly, the owner came over and said, "Who are you talking too?"

I said, "None of your damn business!"

The owner grabbed me by my shirt collar, and suddenly Emily and Samson attacked him. Samson broke his neck while Emily pulled out his heart and stuffed him into a freezer. I thought it was hilarious, but it was time to go before someone saw us. We quickly filled up the truck with all the food we could fit; we had at least five shopping carts of food.

"Wheeeeeeeee, that was a rush," proclaimed Johnny.

He was happy, and so was everyone else; it was as if we had just robbed a bank. Samson wanted to take the body home, but it was too much baggage. I told him that next time we would. Then Samson smiled and was happy again. I reached into a shopping bag and pulled out a carton of milk. As I was drinking from it, I noticed that a reward was posted for the missing child that we’d killed. I just laughed and showed it to everyone. After everyone got a sip of the milk, we threw the carton out the window, not caring about what we’d done. Why should we care when no one ever cared about us?

Once we were almost home, we saw a massive search party looking for the same child that we’d killed. Searchers were handing out flyers and newspaper clipping with pictures and a reward. We took the flyer like we cared and once down the road we balled it up and threw it out the window. I began to laugh hysterically, for some reason this shit was funny to me. That boy would have been an evil person and I’d saved society from his reign.

As soon as we got home, we unloaded our loot. We were like wild dogs, we wanted to eat everything first, until Walter, who I called ‘mother hen’, told us only to eat a little so we wouldn’t get a bellyache. We all pretended to listen, and as soon as he turned his back, we were pigging out. Emily took a whole jar of strawberry jelly and ran off to her hiding spot. I was glad to see her happy, she was like the sister I’d never had. Samson ate the raw meat, which was totally gross and disgusting, but I just loved him, so no matter how gross or strange it was, I overlooked most of what he and my other three friends did, because I was once considered strange and unlovable.

And yet, they all loved me. All that night we pigged out and had a blast; we ate ice cream and watched cartoons. It was like having a day that everything went well. My life was perfect, I didn’t care about anything anymore; I was my own person.

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Don't work in night shift - Hari Nambiar

Working in a software company in Bangalore sometimes I have to extend late in the night. I joined the company 6 months back and I was happy with the remuneration and work life .The Company building was constructed on top of an old graveyard few years back. Being a small company usually you won’t find employees working late at night or during early hours. My office was located at the 6th floor of a building.

During one of such days I was working on my computer. I was working on a project that I had to submit the next day. The clock ticked 1 AM. Working for past 17 hours I was feeling little drowsy. Not sure what happened next, maybe I blacked out or was it a dream. It was a bizarre feeling; it was as if my whole body was floating. Not sure what caused this .Was it the strange voice that was coming from the washroom or was it the weird smell. It was as if something was burning. Then I heard that voice once again. The voice had a magnetic effect on me. It was as if, somebody was calling my soul.

Then everything stopped .There was no sound at all. I could hear the noise of open tap water from the washroom. Yes indeed I was going towards the washroom. The door of the washroom was slightly opened. I moved little further, taking each step with caution. Didn't know what lay behind that door. The smell in the air was exhilarating. I was standing inches away from the door know, moving my hand judiciously towards the door knob. It took a life time to hold the door knob. That’s when I felt the hand on my shoulders .Someone was trying to awaken me. It was the office boy chandru.

I opened my eyes fully awake. Looked at him for a few seconds .I wasn't sure what is real and what is not. I grabbed my bag and started to move towards the exit of my office, swiped the access card and took the stairs. With each step I took I could hear the echo .There was no else here. It was around 02:30 am. The air outside was still as if everything has stopped. I was so scared that I would have soiled my pants .Reached the 4th floor.

Suddenly I heard a noise. Was someone coming up the stairs .I peeped and didn't see anyone down below. Most of the building lights were switched off at this hour and I could hardly see what was happening below the stairs. But I could hear someone was indeed coming up. That's when I saw the shadow. It was a big shadow of a woman. I could see the outline of her body in the shadow. All this was happening so fast that I didn't realize that I was soaked in sweat. Her head was held low probably touching her chin and she looked old. I could see her. She was almost few inches away from me.

She was wearing old Victorian clothing and was walking towards me slowly .I tried to move I couldn’t, tried to scream I couldn't. I couldn't even cry .I was helpless. She was standing an inch away from me. I didn't know what was going to happen next, a thousand thoughts went through my brain. I wished I was somewhere else. On spur of moment she lifted her head. She was all white, had dark clack eyes. She screamed at her maximum .I closed my eyes and thought this is it, I am going to die. There was no noise for the next 2 minutes .I opened my eyes, but there was no one there. I composed myself and started crying like a kid. Started walking slowly towards basement in the building .I boarded by car and left.

It was around 03:30 AM in the morning, the roads were clear, there wasn't much traffic. I drove the vehicle slowly .I was still in shock. Did a see a ghost/spirit or whatever you call it .Was this for real. I wanted to bang the vehicle to a tree just to make sure that its real. But if it was real who was she and how did she disappear. I had thousand questions on my mind. I wanted to see my wife and kids for the last time. You think about important things in life in times like these. I raised the speed and was driving at around 80 Km/h. I didn't see the tempo lorry coming towards me .Hey it was coming the wrong direction. The vehicle was few meters away from me .Moments before the collision my whole life pictured in front me.

I woke up after few hours. I was in a small town .People were talking in strange tongue and they looked poor and were wearing plain clothing .I tried to speak with a passerby , but he didn't notice me .I tried with many people , but no one cared. All the people were walking towards a hill. On top of the hill there was a new Victorian bungalow. It was beautiful 2 storey building and looked marvelous from distance. I walked along with other people. I reached near the house and noticed that all the people were standing outside the gate. On the wall on the gate were the words" William Clay worth Governor ESTD 1802 ". The name sounded familiar. There was strange howl coming from inside the house. It was the howl of a wolf. The people outside the gate were praying. From a distance I could see a well dressed white man and his lady standing outside the house .There were speaking with a older white gentleman.

What year is this? I am the only person in shirt and trousers. Two police constables in horse came towards me and asked me

“Stop there. Who are you and what are you doing near Clayworth estate"

I replied "Not sure .I am not from here and I don't know how I got here “

At this they laughed and one fellow slapped me. I fell on the ground bleeding .I got up and told them that I really don't know what is going on. They kicked me once again and left. One wise person from the crowd offered me some water and asked me.

"Don't you really know how you reached here? Who are you sir.

I said “My name is Karan Desai. I work in a company in Palace road Bangalore"

He replied “Hmm There is a palace nearby. But we don't call it palace road. The British have given names to roads. You talk strange and are wearing strange clothing.

I said Please help me understand what's going on.'

He said “The daughter of William Clayworth was sick. She is possessed by the ancient spirit .The only way to get rid of the spirit from her body is to do a puja.The Puja can be done only by head Pujari from the local temple. We are here to convince Mr. Clayworth that we can get rid of the bad spirit. But he isn't ready to listen. Not sure what to do. Once we get the spirit under our control, it can’t cause any problems for the next 200 years.

I asked him "What year is this”

He replied in sardonic tone “Well the Clayworth bungalow was constructed 8 years back and if the inscription on the gate is correct, and then it is 1810 .I don’t care much about the English year. “

There were too many thoughts going on my mind right now. If what he is saying is correct, some things made sense. But was it a dream or is it reality. He was still talking about the Puja that needs to be done. From the distance we could see a young lady in blood stained dress running towards the hills. She was screaming and it was a frightening scene.Mr Clayworth along with few constables ran behind her. Few people who were witnessing the spectacle behind the gate followed them at a safe distance. The last thing we saw her body falling from the far away cliff.

I heard the voice of someone calling me. I woke up and saw an old beggar in soiled shirt and panama standing in front of me.

He asked “What happened. Are you ok.

I got up and realized that I had met with an accident. It was a dream after all. The car was badly damaged in the crash and I was bleeding from the head. I asked him the direction to the nearest auto stand. Walking towards the auto stand I checked my pocket and felt something odd inside my left pocket. It was a picture of a young white lady .Signed below the painting was the name “Victoria Clayworth ". It was the same lady I saw in my dream and in the company stairs few hours back, though she looked old. Talking about time I didn't know what the time was.

05:00 am

I reached the auto stand and told him to take me to the nearest hospital. I discussed the entire story with my wife after sometime. She laughed at the whole thing .Thinking about the whole thing right now I really don't know if it was a dream or reality. Did I see spirits in the company stairs .There are many questions that are unanswered?

I am happy to be alive after the accident.

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The Subway - Chirs McKenna

Gary woke sluggishly from his sleep and started up at sign that said, 'Be an artist,' in large bold letters. How long ago had he hung that up there he wondered? How many mornings had he woken up and ignored his past self? Enough was enough. With all the effort he could muster he stood up on his bed and yanked the flimsy paper from the ceiling, tossing it across the room and just missing the bin - he'd put it in when got back from work.

Grimly he pulled his shirt and trousers from around the room where they had been abandoned the day before and pulled his tie a little too tightly around his neck. He didn't look good. Why hadn't he gone to bed earlier he wondered, looking at the dark bags under his eyes. Why had he stayed up all night doing nothing? It was going to be another long day.

He made his way out the door pulling his jacket tightly around him. There were others out on the cold wet morning streets. He passed them without a greeting as always. His head forcing his reluctant legs onwards. The trains weren't far at least.

As always the station was crowded, lines of people shuffling through the gates like a herd of cows. Someone pushed against Gary more than necessary and without looking at the man he jolted him away to one side with his hip. The man gave out a loud unnatural groan and disappeared into the crowd. Passing the gate, another commuter pressed closely against his back, an automatic shove drove him back. People were always so eager to get to the trains. Didn't they realise that they left at the same time every day? Didn't they realise there wouldn’t be any seats anyway?

He made his way to the waiting carriage, being forced and nudged on all sides, the people closing into to a tight press. He heard another strange groan in the crowd and wondered if the same man who had been shoving him was somewhere nearby. It wouldn't matter; all people were faceless in the crowd. He wouldn't remember anyone and no one would remember him.

Getting on the train he grabbed on to one of the handles that hung from the carriage ceiling and rested his head against his hand; of course, all the seats had been taken already. He could never work out how people could get on the train so fast before everyone else.

More people crowded into the carriage until the bodies were so tightly packed that there was really no need for Gary to hold on any more, there was nowhere for him to fall. In the press the bodies smelled bad, they always did, but today much more than usual. There was a rotting smell somewhere in the carriage, it happened from time to time that you got stuck behind some overweight businessman who's shirt was already drenched in sweat by the time he got to the station, but today was much worse. He'd just have to deal with it.

As the train jolted to a start Gary began to wonder why he was doing it to himself. He was supposed to be a comic book artist, not some officer worker. When he had hung that sign on the ceiling above his bed he had promised himself the job was only to make enough so that he could take a year out, so that he could survive and get his first graphic novel finished. What had he been doing for the past three years? How had he become so caught up in it all? An energy rose up with in him that he had not felt in a long time and strength and determination he had forgotten he had. No longer, he thought to himself. He'd wasted enough time, he was getting off at the next station and never going back to an office again unless he was starving. He smiled to himself at his new freedom. The choice made him feel awake, made him feel excited, made him feel alive!

He looked around the carriage getting ready to make his way to the door, when he realised with dread that he was already too late. The faces around him were not those of the living. Their flesh and skin was rotten, their heads drooped and hanging, here and there they groaned in the sway of the carriage. Aware of Gary's new found life the closest of the zombies turned to him. Even with part of the creatures face missing, Gary could see the lust on his face. He turned tried to run, but there was nowhere to go, the doors were sealed the bodies packed too tightly to escape. Effortlessly the creature bit into his neck, other zombies grabbing at him yanking and tearing his skin with inhuman strength. In minutes he was torn apart, his life ripped from him, but truly he had already died long ago.

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