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Posts tagged “Mother

FIRST MONSTER

NosferatuXXXFIRST MONSTER
by E.C. McMullen Jr.
Copyright 2013

Deep in the night while everyone slept, five year old Ankar sat on the foot of his bed.

His feet dangled over the floor as his hands firmly gripped the edge, ready to launch himself off … if need be.

Meanwhile, with his head tilted slightly to the left, so his ear was pointed to the source, Ankar gave his closet door a wary side-eye stare.

Something moved in there, the soft noise woke him up. Now there was silence but Ankar was certain that, whatever it was, was biding its time.

It waited for Ankar to let down his guard.

Ankar was pretty sure he knew what was in his closet. The same thing he saw with his Uncle Terry that night his parents were out on a date. Over the salty goodness of fresh hot buttery popcorn and sweet icy cool lemonade, they watched an old movie with music for sound and nothing else. No color, no talking, no noises, just the music and moving pictures. His Uncle Terry insisted Ankar read the title cards out loud as they came up.

“Why can’t we hear them when they talk?”

“That’s how people talked to each other back then before sound,” his Uncle Terry said.

“But they have sound. Music is sound.”

“Just watch,” Uncle Terry said. “History is important.”

Ankar was certain the monster in the movie was the monster in his closet.

A noise!

Ankar leaned closer, his ear turned and tuned ever more toward the closet, but not so turned that he couldn’t see it from the corner of his eyes.

A rustling sound.

A Monster was in there.

No, THE monster was in there.

All the other times, when Ankar ran to his parent’s bedroom, pleading, pulling on his father to catch the monster, the creature escaped before they returned, making Ankar look dumb.

Ankar wouldn’t let the monster get away this time.

There it was again!

Within the closet, the hangars clattered against each other. Ankar was sure of it: something rustled amongst his clothes.

He launched himself off his bed.

He walked toward his door.

Ankar was brave. Ankar was scared. He was ready to run should that closet door open without him. For such an emergency, he left his bedroom door open before he went to bed. He would fly like a shot if things turned sour.

Having crossed the floor, Ankar stood before his closet door.

He stood in the dim rectangle of hall light through his open doorway. Evenly broken lines of mute glowing wafers guarded against absolute dark. They were stuck to the ceiling for half slumbering night snackers – like his Pop – to navigate their way to the kitchen. That little bit of light gave Ankar courage. He wasn’t entirely in the dark. Not like he was on his bed.

As slowly, softly, quietly as he could, Ankar gripped the closet door handle and slowly, softly, quietly as possible, he turned it.

The door came forward from its frame a bit: resisted. It was kind of stuck.

It was now or never.

Ankar yanked opened his closet door wide.

Blackness, nothing but dark in there.

So dark he couldn’t even see his clothes. Ankar nearly sighed in frustration. Fooled again.

Yet … the light through his bedroom door, from the hall …

Ankar thought, ‘Wait. There is enough light here. Why can’t I see my clothes?’

His small body trembled at the thought. Apprehensively, reluctantly, he slowly raised his face to look up at the towering darkness …

Where a hideous white face at the top, nearly glowing, smiled down at him.

This face smiled without a trace of kindness: Malevolent not Benevolent.

It was the creature from the movie. His monster: Nosferatu.

It was taller than he expected and, while he was too young to turn the phrase, Ankar felt deep within his heart that the creature was confidently capable.

Ankar’s plan of escape quickly evaporated in the creature’s hideous stare. He wanted to run, but feared he’d be easily caught and, whatever the monster had in mind, it would be so much worse if he ran.

But he had to do something!

“My Pop says you’re not real.”

For but a finger flick of a moment, the creature’s sanguine, predatory smile froze then faltered. Its enormously wild hairy eyebrows subtly drew in with concern. Then it regained its composure.

“But,”  it grinned. “What does your Mother say?”

“She told me to ask my Pop.”

Ever. So. Slightly, the Nosferatu’s features crumbled again. This was apparently not good news. Once again the creature thought a happy thought – a private thought that was happy for it – and its evil smile returned.

“Yet here we are,”  the thing grinned so wide that its sharply prominent, ratty teeth, displayed. “So all that really matters is,” and here it lifted its enormous hands, “What do you think?”

The question chilled Ankar into shivering. The creature’s two front teeth were long and sharp as nails. Neither his Mom or Pop were here to protect him from something that wasn’t real, and here was something that looked very real!

“I think-“

“Yesss?”  The creature interrupted him, dragging out the word, the smile stretching.

Doubtfully Ankar continued, “- under the circumstances -“

“Ye-ess?” the creature cut off Ankar again, extending its white, hideously clawed, spidery fingers out, the long razor claws slicing the air into whispers. Each claw curved to point toward Ankar’s face. The Nosferatu wanted to terrify the child into paralyzed fear.

“I think I should do what my Pop says.”  Ankar finished.

“Ah shi-!”  The creature  *popped*  out of existence.

Shocked. Wholly surprised that it worked, Ankar stared dumbfounded at the clothes in his closet.

Then a shadow fell across him!

Ankar looked toward his open bedroom door!

His pudgy Pop, half asleep and holding a glass of water, filled his son’s doorway. Pop’s hair was pillow pulled into an unruly wave of bed head. A bristle of beard dust dirtied his face, and his eyes blinked and squinted at Ankar. His child, standing wide-awake in the middle of the night in front of his open closet. Pop sussed the situation.

“Monster again?”

“Yeah sir.”

“Did you do what I told you?”

“Yeah sir.”

“Did it work?”

Still in awe, for Ankar was effectively surprised that it did, he said, “Yeah…!”

Ankar’s Pop pointed his index finger at his son with a thumb’s up, made a “Click-Click” sound in his cheek, and said.

“Told ya.”

Ankar stared in wonder at his amazing, unkempt hero, who smiled benignly as he closed the bedroom door. As the rectangle of hall light squeezed thin across Ankar’s astonished face, he heard his hero say,

“Now go to bed.”

END

FIRST MONSTER, copyright 2013, E.C. McMullen Jr.
Artwork: FIRST MONSTER. Artist, Feo Amante.
Music while writing,
Edvard Grieg – In The Hall Of The Mountain King
http://youtu.be/hDi8Smb4KeI

If you enjoyed this short story, watch the further adventures of Ankar in the online short film, THE NIGHT MY MONSTER DIED.

wb2016Then come out of the closet and buy my book
WILLOW BLUE.
It’s my second collection of critically acclaimed Supernatural and Drama Thriller short stories with all of the Weird Sex, True Love, Monsters and Mayhem, you’ve come to expect (or should by now). Feature’s the Ankar story, Steven’s Mother.
Available in paperback for $8.00 or in Kindle for only $1.99. Buy the paperback at Amazon and the Kindle eBook is free! The tales will last you longer than latte!

Want more? Buy

PERPETUAL BULLET: A Science Fiction Collection.
It’s a veritable trove of previously published Science Fiction Horror Thriller tales – plus bonus stories
Featuring: Weird Sex, True Love, Monsters and Mayhem!
Now on sale for $9.00 in Trade Paperback and in eBook for $1.99 and available for your Android Tablet, iPad, Kindle, Nook, and every other “E”!
Find it at (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Diesel, !ndigo, iTunes, KoboBooks, Smashwords, WHSmith, and more).
Buy the paperback at Amazon and the Kindle eBook is free!

Crave still more?

Then read more about Ankar in, CEDO LOOKED LIKE PEOPLE, in the anthology Fear The Reaper, edited by Joe Mynhardt. Available in Print and eBook at Amazon and Barnes & Noble!

“Cedo Looked Like People” – E.C. McMullen Jr.: A boy’s strange next door night- and day-divided neighbors make for equally strange – and later disturbing – friendships. This Ray Bradbury-esque is one of the most memorable and one of the more original stories I’ve read in a long time.”
Amazon Reviewer


Also available from Crystal Lake Publishing, the film making guidebook, HORROR 201: The Silver Scream. Reap the rewards of movie making experience from the likes of Myself, as well as  John Carpenter, Tom Holland, Jeffrey Reddick, George A. Romero, Keith Arem, Richard Gray, also the late  Ray Bradbury, Wes Craven, plus many more. $19.99 in Print or $3.99 in eBook.

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WILLIAM’S MOTHER

Anon01WILLIAM’S MOTHER
by E.C. McMullen Jr.
Copyright 2013

Sylvia woke and there was quiet Little William in his crib, waiting only for her.

“Such a good baby,” she cooed. “You never make a fuss, do you?”

No, Little William never made a fuss. Not a peep. He had no face, only the slightest discoloration beneath the skin where his eyes should be. Yet without nostrils or a mouth, Little William still responded to his Mother’s touch.

Sometimes Sylvia would wake from restless dreams just to check on him.

The moon shone through the baby’s window. A gibbous moon: bright but not too bright, perfect for when the people came.

When they came?

They were already here!

Sylvia heard the herd mulling in the main room, clattering about with their equipment.

“Are you here, Sylvia?”

Oh.

They brought that one.

The oaf who called to her as if she ever needed calling in her own home. As if she ever needed goading to be a courteous hostess.

“Answer if you can hear us!” The oaf called again, as if this was her  house and she was calling for the children or servants.

Sylvia was not about to answer.

“Give us a sign!”

A sign. Sylvia’s presence would be enough.

Well then, Little William was all ready and looked just as perfect as he could be. If only she could have seen that perfection in life, death would not keep them in this house.

Still, she saw the beauty of her Little William now and that’s what is important. Even better, crowds of people came nearly every evening to see her Little William.

Sylvia adoringly rubbed her nose against his featureless face.

Cradling him in her arms, Sylvia regally descended the staircase.

Everyone below turned their attention toward her.

Immediately the cameras began click, click, clicking. An unnecessary sound in a digital age, but a reassuring one. A sound of normalcy for the living gathered in this soul harrowing house.

Sylvia didn’t know that the cameras never captured the bone white orbs of her colorless eyes or the self-inflicted bullet hole in her forehead. Unlike a human brain that interpreted what it saw through human eyes, the cameras could only capture what was actually there, not what the mind said was there. So the cameras caught only the reflected light from a doll. A doll whose painted face faded away some long time ago. A faceless doll that floated alone down the dark staircase without string or trick.

The House of the Haunted Doll brought the world to its door.

Sylvia smiled her biggest smile as the corners of her mouth creased back to her ears. All the while she held her precious Little William’s head against her own. This was really all about him after all, or should be.

Anyone among the living could see that she radiated maternal pride, for Sylvia treasured her Little William as any loving mother would. Yet she regretted the fact that he inherited none of her good looks.

END

Story by E.C. McMullen Jr.

Artist: Unknown. If you can prove you are the artist, please contact me and I’ll credit you.


pb300You’ll cherish my book
PERPETUAL BULLET: A Science Fiction Collection.
It’s a veritable trove of previously published Science Fiction Horror Thriller tales – plus bonus stories
Featuring: Weird Sex, True Love, Monsters and Mayhem!
Now on sale for $9.00 in Trade Paperback and in eBook for $1.99 and available for your Android Tablet, iPad, Kindle, Nook, and every other “E”!
Find it at (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Diesel, !ndigo, iTunes, KoboBooks, Smashwords, WHSmith, and more).
Buy the paperback at Amazon and the Kindle eBook is free!

Want more? Buy WILLOW BLUE. It’s my second collection of critically acclaimed Supernatural and Drama Thriller short stories with all of the Weird Sex, True Love, Monsters and Mayhem, you’ve come to expect (or should by now). Available in paperback for $8.00 or in Kindle for only $1.99. Buy the paperback at Amazon and the Kindle eBook is free! The tales will last you longer than latte!

Crave even more?

Look for my story Cedo Looked Like People, in the anthology, FEAR THE REAPER, edited by Joe Mynhardt. Available from Crystal Lake Publishing and available in Print for $12.99 or eBook for $2.99.

Also available from Crystal Lake Publishing, the film making guidebook, HORROR 201: The Silver Scream. Reap the rewards of movie making experience from the likes of Myself, as well as  John Carpenter, Tom Holland, Jeffrey Reddick, George A. Romero, Keith Arem, Richard Gray, also the late  Ray Bradbury, Wes Craven, plus many more. $19.99 in Print or $3.99 in eBook.


FIRST MOLT

KaksosetFIRST MOLT
by E.C. McMullen Jr.
Copyright 2013

“I hurt, Papa!” Mellick cried softly. Her tone wasn’t a mewl but the skin-scraping voice of a child in agony.

Her father Toenz, stood by and heard, but there was nothing he could do. First molt is always painful.

Her little brother Sume, at the other side of her bed, looked from his sister to his father and back again. He was silent. Mother told him what would happen, but he looked with hopeful expectation to his father all the same.

Was there nothing Papa could do?

Mellick endured as best she could, because she too knew that this was part of growing up. Didn’t make things any better, but at least she knew she wouldn’t die.

There was the sound of tissue ripping and though she tried to be strong, Mellick drew a sharp breath before her scream.

Embarrassed at having let the scream escape, she cut it off as fast as she could bear.

Mother Myra stood at a distance.

Her child writhed in pain and there was nothing she could do. Yes she went through first molt too, as did her brothers and sisters but they weren’t her children. Mellick was her first.

Myra’s anger at her own helplessness came out in her voice.
“Any blood yet?”

Opposites attract, but not for Toenz and Myra. Everybody knew they were two seeds in a pod and like Myra, Toenz was handling his first child’s first molt with bad grace.

“Would I still be here if there was?” Toenz snapped.

Myra was ready to take exception to her husband and drive her sharp mouth right through his head. But this hot flash was chased down and extinguished, by the cool knowledge that he was only feeling as helpless as she.

Already Toenz was reading her mood.

“Not in the warrior’s nature,” he recited by rote, “to stand idly by.”

Myra raised her shoulders in a smile. “Especially Cloak Warriors.”

They knew each other so well. Still they each gave off the scent of anger and, at a moment like this, it was a danger to them all to be too close. So Myra remained at the doorway, not daring to approach.

Pain and worry exuded from their children, keeping them safe from harm, causing protective emotions in their parents. But because their parents could do nothing they were frustrated. And because they were warriors their frustration turned to anger.

Like a projectile hitting stone, there was a sudden sharp crack and Mellick cried out, louder than before.

“She’s bleeding!” Toenz shouted in joy.

Sume bristled in happiness.

“Ow. Ow. Ow.” Mellick hissed, trying hard to push down the pain.

“It will soon be over, Mel!” Sume assured.

“What do you know?” Mellick growled.

“Hurry!” Myra scolded and stepped far from the doorway so they could pass.

Toenz scooped up his bloated daughter and turned for the door. Sume looked at him wistfully. Toenz looked to Mellick and with the slightest pause, she nodded. Toenz lifted his son in his other arm and carried them both through the house and outside. Myra stayed back. The soiled bed had to be undone and remade for Mellick’s return and rest.

Toenz carred his children toward the beach, footfalls silently gliding right into the cold shallows. Once deep enough, he gently lowered Mellick into the water. The soothing brine was almost immediate and Mellick’s blood bloomed.

Toenz released his daughter and let the ocean gently carry her out to the depths. Sume held on to his father’s shoulder, watching from his high vantage point.

They lost sight of Mellick but her blood was having an affect.

Here and there the waters splashed and churned as the blood scent ignited frenzy in the nearby Janks. The creatures got their bearings by thrashing about, trying to detect the source of the blood.

One was quicker than the others and shot toward the beach, where Toenz was certain his daughter floated, hatching from her chrysalis.

The Jank breached the surface, raising up to deliver death, its beak descending for attack, when the water below it erupted in one hundred flashing, whipping silvery tentacles, grabbing the Jank and quickly rendering it defenseless.

The startled Jank first fought to escape and used its beak as a sword, slicing Mellick’s tentacles this way and that, but it was no use. There were too many, they were too fast, and they rapidly speared their way into the beast’s flesh, sliding into muscle, connecting to nerve, controlling the animal.

Against its furious will, the Jank helplessly surrendered itself as Mellick’s host.

The other nearby Janks, sensing the unexpected danger, turned and fled the area.

Tired from the molt and weary from capturing her host, Mellick forced herself to swim back against the tide, toward her father and brother.

In spite of her exhaustion and with a sense of warrior’s pride, Mellick rolled in the shallows to show off her prize.

Toenz and Sume raised their shoulders in a smile. Toenz set Sume into the water, as he would need both arms to carry Mellick and her host back home.

Back at the house, Myra stood in the doorway, bristling with happiness.

“When I molt,” Sume said. “I’m not going to cry.”

“Oh!” Mellick sneered through her new mouth. “You are such a liar!”

END

Story by E.C. McMullen Jr.

Art: Kaksoset / Twins, by Timo Sälekivi. Find tsalekivi at Facebook.


wb2016Capture a copy of my book,
WILLOW BLUE.
It’s my second collection of critically acclaimed Supernatural and Drama Thriller short stories with all of the Weird Sex, True Love, Monsters and Mayhem, you’ve come to expect (or should by now). Available in paperback for $8.00 or in Kindle for only $1.99. Buy the paperback at Amazon and the Kindle eBook is free! The tales will last you longer than latte!

Want more? Buy

PERPETUAL BULLET: A Science Fiction Collection.
It’s a veritable trove of previously published Science Fiction Horror Thriller tales – plus bonus stories
Featuring: Weird Sex, True Love, Monsters and Mayhem!
Now on sale for $9.00 in Trade Paperback and in eBook for $1.99 and available for your Android Tablet, iPad, Kindle, Nook, and every other “E”!
Find it at (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Diesel, !ndigo, iTunes, KoboBooks, Smashwords, WHSmith, and more).
Buy the paperback at Amazon and the Kindle eBook is free!

Crave still more?

Look for my story Cedo Looked Like People, in the anthology, FEAR THE REAPER, edited by Joe Mynhardt. Available from Crystal Lake Publishing and available in Print for $12.99 or eBook for $2.99.

Also available from Crystal Lake Publishing, the film making guidebook, HORROR 201: The Silver Scream. Reap the rewards of movie making experience from the likes of Myself, as well as  John Carpenter, Tom Holland, Jeffrey Reddick, George A. Romero, Keith Arem, Richard Gray, also the late  Ray Bradbury, Wes Craven, plus many more. $19.99 in Print or $3.99 in eBook.


ACCOMMODATING COW!

CowThis looks like a job for…
ACCOMMODATING COWWWW!!!

Mother: “My child needs breakfast and we’re all out of Milk!”
DramaButton
Accommodating Cow: “MOO!”
Child: “Look Mom! It’s Accommodating Cow!”
Mother: “Oh Accommodating Cow! Thank Goodness you’ve arrived!”
Accommodating Cow: “MOOO.”
Mother: “We have no milk for Junior’s cereal-“
Child: “My name is Craig.”
Mother: “-Craig’s cereal, Accommodating Cow! What can we do?”
Accommodating Cow: “Ahem! MOO.”
Mother: “How’s that?”
Accommodating Cow: (sarcastically) “Mooo?”
Mother:Do you understand what she’s saying?”
Child: “I don’t speak cow, Mom.”
Accommodating Cow: (shaking her head in disbelief) “MOOOO!”
Mother:Oh! If only there was someone who understood cow!”
Accommodating Cow: “MOO-MOO?” (stomps with her front hooves) “MOO!”
Child: “*Sigh* This isn’t going anywhere, is it?”
Mother: “If we only knew what she was trying to say!”
Accommodating Cow: (really getting agitated) “MOO!-OOO!-OOO!!!”
Child: “Okay, I gotta get to school, now.”
Mother: “You’re not leaving this table until you’ve finished your cigarette!”
Accommodating Cow: “Huff! Huff!” (turns a full frustrated circle, knocking the table over) MOOOOO!!! MOOOOO!!! MOOOO-WOOOO!!!”
Child: “Yeah, you were a big help! Stupid cow!”

END


pb300Holy cow, you should buy my book
PERPETUAL BULLET: A Science Fiction Collection
It’s a veritable trove of previously published Science Fiction Horror Thriller tales – plus bonus stories
Featuring: Weird Sex, True Love, Monsters and Mayhem!
Now on sale for $9.00 in Trade Paperback and in eBook for $1.99 and available for your Android Tablet, iPad, Kindle, Nook, and every other “E”!
Find it at (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Diesel, !ndigo, iTunes, KoboBooks, Smashwords, WHSmith, and more).

Want to butter that special someone up? Buy WILLOW BLUE. It’s my second collection of critically acclaimed Supernatural and Drama Thriller short stories with all of the Weird Sex, True Love, Monsters and Mayhem, you’ve come to expect (or should by now). Available in paperback for $8.00 or in Kindle for only $1.99. Buy the paperback at Amazon and the Kindle eBook is free! The tales will last you longer than latte!

Pardon me for milking this, but-

Look for my story Cedo Looked Like People, in the anthology, FEAR THE REAPER, edited by Joe Mynhardt. Available from Crystal Lake Publishing and available in Print for $12.99 or eBook for $2.99.

If I haven’t cheesed you off yet, also buy,

Also available from Crystal Lake Publishing, the film making guidebook, HORROR 201: The Silver Scream. Reap the rewards of movie making experience from the likes of Myself, as well as  John Carpenter, Tom Holland, Jeffrey Reddick, George A. Romero, Keith Arem, Richard Gray, also the late  Ray Bradbury, Wes Craven, plus many more. $19.99 in Print or $3.99 in eBook.