Cave of Echoes

 “It’s called the cave of echoes,” said the guide. His voice didn’t echo, which was odd. “It is said to have been used by the royal family for thousands of years.”

    “Used for what?” asked the financier. 

    “The jury’s out, I’m afraid. Meditation is the most common theory.”

    The cave was massive, lined with emerald crystals of various girths. The room had been lined with lanterns for the tour, but the three people who had traveled down here all could swear that the gems gave off a glow of their own. 

    “In any event, I don’t know what you’re hoping to find here.’

    “Oh… I’m just open to the possibilities.”

    “Careful, captain. That ledge looks unstable.” The captain nodded and placed her foot more carefully upon the next stone. 

    “We’re almost there, ladies. Pick up the pace.”

    As they reached the bottom ledge, they saw a brilliant light in the distance. It was almost too bright to look at, at first, but soon their eyes adjusted to the strange blue tint. 

    “Why is this one blue?”

    The guide coughed. “Nobody knows.” He took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. “It is marvelous though, wouldn’t you agree?”

    “Agreed,” said the captain. The other two started, almost forgetting that she could speak after nearly an hour of spelunking in silence. They were even more startled by the revolver she pulled from her side.

    She bent over and wiped the financier’s blood with two gloved fingers. She walked over to the massive crystal and wiped the blood across its glowing surface. She paused a moment, examined the room, then cursed.

    “I swear, if I travelled all this way for nothing,” she muttered to herself as she made her way out of the chamber. Her mumbled curses faded as she reached the top of the steps, returning to the room filled with green crystals. 

    Her face broke into a thin smile when she saw the financier lying on the ground. Although, she hadn’t thought about finding her naked. The captain took off her jacket and placed it around the dazed woman’s shoulders. She didn’t think the woman’s more ample body would allow her to close the jacket, but eventually she managed. 

    “What…what happened?” said the financier. 

    “You and the guide slipped down the stairs. I managed to catch you, but…”

    “Oh no! We need to get help. Is he…”

    “He didn’t make it, I’m afraid.”

    The financier shook her head.

    “But it’s alright.”

    The other woman looked at the captain for a moment. Then she nodded. “It’s alright.”

    “Let’s go home now, shall we?”

    The financier nodded. “Yes, let’s go home. I need to find something else to change into…”

    “Mhmm. You do look lovely in my jacket though.”

    “Thank you.”

    “Not another word.”

    The two walked back in silence. When they exited the cave, one of the captain’s men greeted her with a salute. 

    “Buy the lot,” she said. “Oh… and send someone down there to collect the bodies.”

Flames (October Challenge Day 5)

 At first, I was nothing. 

And then

A Spark. 

It danced across my fingertips 

With the poise and grace

Of a prima ballerina. 

It glowed. It burned. 

It asked for nothing but to be fed

And kept. 

But the more I fed it,

The more of me it ate. 

Until we were both

Nothing but ashes.

I learned to fear the fire. 

Not for the raging heat. 

It was never violent with me. 

All I ever felt was 

Pressure. 

I feared what it meant. 

What it wanted. 

To swallow me whole. 

Mind, soul, and spirit. 

It longed for me to be nothing

But an extension of its will. 

And it made the sweetest sounds

When I gave it what it wanted. 

Then I burned something

Something precious. Someone…

I wanted the fire to consume me. 

To reduce me to nothing like it had

So many houses and so many trees

And so many friends. 

But it couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. 

Then a light shined into my head. 

And I knew the calm that would

Quell the flames. 

It still burns within me. 

A constant reminder of the things

I’ve done. But it isn’t bad. 

Fire isn’t just destruction. 

Fire is light. Fire is warmth. 

Fire is rebirth. Is reborn.

And so am I.

Clowning Around (October Challenge Day 8)

 Barnaby Hughes was just about sick of being a clown for hire. He had done everything over the past few years. Children's birthday parties. Carnivals. State fairs. He even visited some kids at the local hospital. And yeah, he got to give a few people some good laughs. 

But he couldn't deal with all the weirdos.

It started out with Boppo. Boppo had gotten upset because Barnaby called himself Barpo the clown. He got the go-ahead from the higher-ups, but that didn't stop Boppo. If Barnaby booked a birthday party at the arcade, Boppo would show up too. If Barnaby got a deal with the local garlic festival, Boppo was there too. Apparently working for next to nothing, so he could make sure he got a spot near the main events. 

But that would have been fine. Annoying, but fine. Of course, Boppo decided to get his buddies involved. Stretch, Slaps, Gogo, all kinds of characters. And they didn't just show up at jobs. He saw Stretch one time performing on a street corner outside Barnaby's mother's house. Slaps got a gig making balloon animals on the same day he took his niece to the amusement park. 

And, he could swear that he had seen Gogo outside his house. Standing in the woods. Watching him. 

It was with a good deal of relief when he put in his notice. He had two jobs to finish, and then he was out of the business for good. His brother-in-law had gotten him a job testing software for his tech company. He'd always had a head for numbers. The clown thing was… something else. 

He arrived at little Jonah's bar mitzvah a good hour early. His mother has been so thrilled when she'd seen all the stuff he'd brought. The last gig was at the carnival, and they mostly provided their own stuff. Jonah's party was where he could get rid of all the stuff he'd been collecting over the years. 

The kids loved it. Even Jonah, who'd originally been a little sour that his mother had hired a clown, got into the spirit when he got to pie the rabbi. 

But, as Barnaby was finishing a little girl's balloon animal, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He turned and gazed across the road. Standing in an otherwise empty parking lot was Stretch, Slaps, Gogo…

And Boppo. 

Gogo caught him staring and waved excitedly. He held up a finger as if telling Barnaby to wait a minute, then pulled out a balloon. He turned his back to Barnaby, made some flourishes with his hands, and turned back around to display his creation. 

It was a noose.

"Excuse me!" 

Barnaby jumped. It was the little girl, May or Mary or something. She had her hand out and was tapping her foot. "Are you done with my giraffe?"

"Oh yeah. Sure kid." He handed her the balloon, then turned back to the parking lot. They were gone. 

When he got home, he called the regional manager and told him what was going on. He promised to get back to him the next day. 

"So," Barnaby said when he answered the call. "Did you tell them to knock it off?"

"That's just it, Barnaby," said the manager. "The four of them left town. I don't know where they all went but Gogo is in Chicago visiting his ex and his kids." 

"I'm telling you. I saw them."

"Look man. I'm sure you're just stressed about all the nonsense those guys put you through. But they're just being punks. It's not like they're dangerous."

"Yeah. I guess you're right."

It was an uneventful two days leading up to the carnival. No sightings of Boppo or his friends. Maybe he had just imagined the whole thing. He was letting his nerves get the better of him.

He got to the carnival and set up a station near the funnel cakes and the ferris wheel. The carnival manager shook his hand and thanked him for sticking around to do the event. 

"I'm glad you picked us for your finale." The man laughed. 

"Oh yeah. I love doing the carnivals. I'll miss these shows the most."

"Good, good. Glad to hear it. Knock em dead."

And despite his fears, Barnaby had a great time. He got his photo taken a bunch, got some good tips, and overall had a great day. By the time sunset rolled around and the big overhead lamps lit up the park, he decided to call it a night. He left his gear with the rest of the stuff, the regional manager had agreed to take whatever he didn't want to keep, and headed to grab some grub before heading home. 

When his deep fried chocolate cookies arrived, he found a spot to sit down and just watched the few remaining guests wander about the Midway. 

And then he spotted a familiar painted face. Boppo was leaning against an empty ticket booth, eyes fixed on him. Barnaby got up and headed the other way. That's when he noticed Stretch standing near the outhouses. 

He picked up the pace and headed further into the carnival. He was just going to have to duck through a barricade and make a dash to his car. Or one of the patrol cars that he'd seen outside. He turned a corner and saw Slapz. The man made a beeline towards him, and Barnaby saw Stretch headed in his direction. 

He turned to the nearest attraction. A fun house. He flashed the attendant his performer badge, although the teenaged kid was so stoned he didn't even acknowledge him, and ducked into the building.

He'd been to this carnival before. The fun house had an emergency hatch, one for kids who got freaked out and needed to be escorted out. He ducked under the shaky rope bridge and headed towards the door.  

Behind it was Gogo. 

"Hey, Barpo. Wanna hear a joke?" 

"Candle" (October Challenge Day 4- Scallop)

 “Candle”

“What is it?” asked Grinjack. The candlelight cast long, weird shadows across his pock-marked face. He was still standing several feet back, his hand always inches away from the knife at his side. 

Sherry smiled. She liked having the upperhand on Grinjack. Which wasn’t especially hard. He wasn’t especially bright. “It’s some kind of sea creature, I reckon.” 

The creature in question looked like a scallop shell except it was covered in golden hairs. Also, it was the size of a small boat. 

“So what?” Grinjack said. “Let’s get going. There’s a lot more valuable shite around here than some seashell.” 

“Don’t you know anything?” Sherry circled the creature, smacking her lips. “These kinds of things often have pearls inside them. And the bigger the shell…”

“The bigger the pearl. Fine Sherry.” He pulled the knife from its sheath.

They both knelt down to get a better look. The shell seemed to be shaking slightly, and a smell like dried blood and salt water wafted into their nostrils. 

“You ever shuck an oyster?”

Grinjack shook his head. “Can’t be too tough.” He shoved the knife under the edge of the shell and attempted to lift it up. “Come on. Open up for Daddy..”

“Gross.” Sherry said. 

Grinjack shot her a look. “Hey. Do something useful and find something to help me pry it open.”  

“Yeah, fine.” Sherry stood up. “Just keep at it.” He gave her a mock salute. She shook her head and headed outside. 

“Where did I see it?” she asked herself. Her eyes scanned the nearby buildings. It was dark, but she was able to make out the long pole of a shovel a few houses down. 

“Gotcha.” She walked over to the shovel and tried to pull it towards her. It was stuck, jammed behind a wooden crate. She shoved the box out of the way and freed the shovel. 

“ARAGH!!!” The sound had come from the warehouse she’d left Grinjack. She ran back, shovel ready to swing at the first guard she came across. 

She charged into the warehouse. There was no sign of anybody. The flickering light only revealed the same shell in the center of the room. And next to it, Grinjack’s knife. 

“That son of a bitch!” Sherry punched the nearest wall. She should have known he’d flake on her. He probably saw someone walking and decided to take the money and run. Now she was left with nothing except a damned shovel. 

She drove the shovel into the slight gap in the shell. She threw her whole body into it over and over again. She would not go home empty-handed. Not again. 

After several dozen attempts, she finally stopped. She was panting, and her sweat was beginning to pool around the small of her back. “Fine.” She spat on the ground. “Damn Grinjack. And damn this town. And damn this bloody, useless shell.”

She started to walk out of the warehouse when she heard a loud snap behind her. She turned. The shovel had snapped clear in two. And the shell had opened. Just a little bit. 

She clapped her hands together. She must have loosened the damn thing after all. She could see something gleaming in the candlelight. Maybe she’d make out all right after all. 

She walked closer and bent down. She’d have to finish prying it with her hands. Still, the hard part was done. She reached a hand towards the creature. Then stopped herself. 

The shell continued to open. So slowly, Sherry imagined she was hallucinating. But no, it was opening on its own. She leaned forward.

A blast of foul-smelling brown liquid shot out at her. It got into her eyes, and she yelped. There was salt in it, whatever it was, and she desperately tried to clear her vision. She could still see something glistening in the candlelight. She was stealing that pearl whether the damn seashell liked it or not. 

Still wiping the gunk away with one hand, she reached the other towards the gleam. It was solid and smooth. And big, probably as big as her fist. She was going to make a killing. 

But why was it sharp? 

She screamed as the shell slammed shut around her arm. The thing she had been touching was a tooth, as sharp as any shark, and it drove into her flesh. She tried to push the shell back open, frantically digging at its edges. Through her blurred vision, she saw as the shell opened up again. She tried to pull her arm away, but the tooth was curved and had sunk right into the bone. 

Then she noticed more objects shining white in the flickering flames of the candles. Dozens of sharp, curved teeth. 

"Little Alex" (October Challenge Day 3: Bat)

 “Little Alex”

As the sun says “See ya later” 

And the sheep all head to bed,

There’s rumbling in the caverns. 

Little Alex shakes his tiny head. 

The moon has risen into the sky

As it does each and every night

And to see Alex and his family 

Fly from their caves is quite a sight. 

They fly through the sleeping forests

Using echolocation as their guide.

Searching for a tasty treat or two

To sustain them through their glide. 

The forest in the night is full

Of unique, enchanting things

But few are quite as charming

As Little Alex testing his wings.

But as each morning fades to night

So to does night give rise to day. 

It was soon time to head back home;

A halt to their nighttime play. 

But as Little Alex finds his spot, 

Nestled in his family's fuzzy pile.

He settles into a peaceful dream

That lasts for quite a while. 

And just like happened yesterday

The moon took its place in the sky

So Little Alex and his friends woke up

And did what they love the most: Fly!

Scurry (October Challenge Day 2- Scurry)

 "It's about time you showed up," said Mrs. Whitaker, her hands on her hips. "I was about to call someone else."

Conner doubted that. His company had the best rates by far, and he knew his boss hadn't even charged the woman for the priority job. But it wasn't his job to argue with paying clients. 

"We're very sorry, ma'am. But I'll have you all sorted out in no time."

The frustration in her brow lessened. "Alright. Well, go on. The basement door is right there. Light switch on the right. There's no light at the bottom, it blew and I… I couldn't bear to go down there."

Conner fought the urge to roll his eyes. It was amazing to him how absolutely terrified people were of mice. This woman was shaking at the mere memory of seeing one scurry around her basement. But it was a payday. 

"I'll be alright. It's better to keep it dark and use the flashlight." He lifted the heavy duty flashlight off his belt and waved it in front of her. 

"And you'll kill it. Them. However many there are?"

He nodded. "They'll be all gone by tonight."

"Good." Her face was pale. "Well. Have at it."

Once she had headed into the kitchen, Conner allowed himself a sigh and shook his head. The quicker he started, the quicker he'll be finished, he told himself. 

He opened the door to the basement and fumbled for the light. The lightbulb was dim and flickered. It would probably die before the job was done. 

He started making his way carefully down the steps. The walls were lined with rusted gardening tools and cleaning supplies. As he descended, the stench of mildew and mothballs washed over him. 

He turned his head to cough. When he looked back towards the foot of the stairs, he saw something dash into the darkness. It had been small and tan. He chuckled. At least there was at least one mouse down here. He would hate to have driven out here and dealt with all of this for nothing.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and grabbed his flashlight. As the room lit up, he heard the scurrying of multiple feet. He swung his light towards the far wall. 

There was a large barrel in the corner of the room surrounded by a number of totes marked with various holidays. He saw a flicker of something squeeze its way behind one of the plastic bins.

Then he heard a soft moan coming from behind the barrel. 

"Mrs. Whitaker?" Who else could it be, Conner thought. She said she lived alone. 

Then someone cleared their throat. 

"Alright. Enough games. Come on out." He flicked the flashlight back and forth for emphasis.

There was a rustling and a young woman peered her head from around the barrel. She had brown hair and bright green eyes that were wide with fright.

"Sorry," the woman said.

Conner took a deep breath. "Oh shit, you scared me. What are you doing down here in the dark?"

The woman glanced at the stairs. Above their heads, Conner could hear Mrs. Whitaker moving around the kitchen. "Hiding."

"Well, no need for that with me." He paused. The woman didn't move. "My name is Conner. What's your name?"

"Riz." She took a step into the light. She was quite thin judging by her legs. The rest of her body was covered in an oversized sweater, dark brown with tan stripes. She had a sunken look about her, like she'd been down here for a while.

"How'd you get down here, Riz?" 

The girl glanced at the stairs again, then at him. The flashlight lit up her face and she turned suddenly. 

"Sorry." He said. He lowered the beam so it was illuminating the floor in front of them. 

"It was dark and cold," Riz said, her voice shaky. "I just… wanted to get out of the rain. The window was open a crack. And now she won't let me leave."

"She won't let you leave?" Riz shook her head. "What does… what do you mean?"

She lifted her left arm and a hand appeared from under the massive sweater sleeve. One of her fingers was missing. That detail distracted him momentarily from the fact that she was pointing at something. He turned the flashlight to where she was pointing.

In the other corner of the room was a mouse trap. There was a mouse stuck inside the trap. It must have died a few days ago. Behind that was a rifle. A hunting rifle that didn't have the same level of dust as the boxes around it. 

"Alright. Come on. Let's get you out of here." Riz's eyes widened. "You're safe with me. I won't let her hurt you."

The girl stepped out from the corner, stumbling. Conner rushed forward to help her stand straight. "Thank you, Conner." 

"Go ahead and lean into me if you have to. I can take it. One step at a time."

As they ascended, Conner's mind raced. What should he do? Get this girl to his truck and drive the hell away from here. That was obvious. Go right to the police? Try to find Riz's parents or a relative? And when should he let his boss know that their client was a kidnapper. 

Come to think of it, he thought as he pushed open the basement door, why would this woman call for an exterminator if she has a girl trapped in her basement. 

"Well you can't be done already," said Mrs. Whitaker as she came around the corner. If you think I'm paying you for a half-done job you've got another thing…" She looked from Conner to Riz then back again. Conner could practically hear the gears turning in her head. "Who the heck is…"

Conner grabbed his flashlight and brandished it like a weapon. "That's enough. I don't know what you were thinking. But me and the girl are leaving. Right now."

"But I… is this some kind of joke?" Mrs. Whitaker moved to grab an umbrella to defend herself. Conner put his body in between her and Riz. Then he heard her body hit the floor. 

"Riz, go on. Get out of here." He nodded towards the door then turned back to the old woman. 

All of the color had drained from her face. She started shaking, the umbrella falling from her trembling hands. Then she screamed and stumbled backwards, her whole body actively trying to get away. 

Conner turned to see what was going on. Riz was lying on the ground, her face in the carpet. But her legs were gone. Instead, there were dozens of rats and mice all crawling over each other. Her body slowly faded away as more of the vermin crawled from where her sweater had been. 

Then the horde all turned towards the front door and scurried towards it. They hit the wood in a wave of fur and claws and the door popped open.

Conner watched as the parade of rats disappeared out the door. He looked down at the carpet. There was no sign a woman had been there. Just tiny little claw marks on the hardwood floors beneath the rug. 

He went out to his truck and called the police. And then his boss. "By the way. I quit."

The Gargoyle (Inktober 01, 2022)

  Harold took the stairs two at a time, his footsteps echoing through the empty staircase. He couldn’t hear anyone following him just yet, but he knew that one guard had spotted him. She would have ran straight to the nearest garrison to alert the rest of her squad. They were probably gathering around the tower at this very moment. 

He reached the top of the stairs and drove his shoulder into the door. The wood burst outward, and Harold stumbled into the open air. He took deep ragged breaths, shivered from the chill in the night air, and kept moving. There was a dense fog in the air. Perfect. Now he just needed a spot to hide. Catch his breath and find the quickest, safest escape route. 

He rubbed his eyes. The wall seemed to stretch on forever. He couldn’t even see the next tower through the fog. He was about to break into a run, when he heard the sound of boots marching up the stairs. 

“Damn,” he said through gritted teeth. He was out of options. He scanned the sides of the walkway. There, jutting out of the mist, was a series of monstrous looking gargoyles. He leapt over the railing and crouched beneath one of the largest ones, a massive bird-like goblin clutching a gemstone or a crystal ball. He laid flat against the cold stone and waited. 

A few minutes later, he heard the heavy thud of boots thunder down the walkway. He heard shouting, some captain giving commands, but he was focused on keeping his breathing steady and his body still. 

A difficult task with his heart racing, made even more difficult by the cold chill that was creeping into his bones. The fog was getting thicker and the moisture had already seeped through his light tunic. But what a stroke of luck, they’d never be able to spot him through the mist. 

A few minutes later, Harold could no longer hear the guards. He still didn’t dare move, in case it was some kind of trick. He was pretty sure once he stood up, his whole body would start chattering from the cold. Better to play it safe. 

To distract himself, Harold looked up at the gargoyle he had crouched behind. The feathers that covered its bird-like body jutted out from the creature like spikes. From this close, he could see the sharp angles of its face, the faded bloodstains on the creature’s talons, and even the malicious look in its cold, lifeless eyes. 

Strangest of all was the crystal clasped in its claws. At first, Harold had thought it was a trick of the light, something reflecting the moonlight through the fog, but the crystal was glowing faintly. It was a light violet color. It swirled inside the orb, like a never-ending spiral into a hidden drain. 

It must have been long enough by now, he thought to himself. Slowly, he pushed himself up to a kneeling position, then stood up. The fog was so thick, he could barely see the railing of the walkway. But there was no sound of footfalls or barked orders. He looked from tower to tower. It seemed like the coast was clear. 

He turned back to the gargoyle. That glowing orb must have some kind of gemstone in it. It was catching the moonlight and bouncing it back to him. It wasn’t the prize he had hoped to grab from the royal treasury, but it was something. 

He leaned over and grabbed the orb. 

“Ouch!” he said, jerking his hand back. The orb was hot. So it wasn’t a gemstone. Just some lantern or something built inside the orb. He shook his head. Of course they wouldn’t keep a precious stone in a random gargoyle. The stress of the night’s activities were weighing on him. 

He turned back to the railing. Except he couldn’t. He shifted his body as if to move towards the railing, but he didn’t budge. Was he caught on something? 

He looked down at his leg. Which had started to turn the same dark gray as the surrounding statues. Harold opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Instead, his mouth froze in that wide-open position. He felt parts of his body extend and compress, but there was no pain or discomfort. In fact, he couldn’t even register that it was cold anymore. He tried once more to cry out, to wiggle any part of his body. But nothing happened. 

Just then, the fog started to fade. A moment later, he heard the sound of boots pounding on stone. Three guards appeared, including the woman who had spotted him earlier. Thank the Source. He was at least going to get some help. 

The three guards walked past him. He could hear them mumbling to themselves and moving around the other statues. 

“No sign of him,” said the woman. “He must of jumped.”

“I knew Kennith was fooling around. ‘Check the gargoyles’ he says.” 

The three appear in front of Harold. Harold tries with all his might to make something move, to make any noise or gesture that would cause them to notice him. 

The woman finally turns and looks at him. She gives him a once over then turns to her companions. “I swear these things get creepier and creepier everytime I see them. This one looks like it might try to fly off at any second.” 

“Enough foolin’ around. We’ll double check the south tower and then report back to the captain.” 

“Alright fine. Hey did you hear about Annabelle from the bakery. She was…”

The rest of their conversation faded as they disappeared from Harold’s view.