Weird Winter by Penny L Cobb

weird winter

r. j. davies m. stoycheff p. l. cobb

Rule of Three

about weird winter

he stories you are about to read first debuted on our old blog: The Enigmatic Monster Project. EMP (as it was known) was dedicated to horror and weird fiction, which was great, but which also led to the blog losing steam. One can only write so much weird fiction before getting bored. Rule of Three came about as a result. Our only limitation now is quality: if it’s not good, we don’t share it with our audience. We still write weird fiction, but we also write in other genres. It’s a breath of fresh air! What you’ll read within the pages of this book are all strange, and borderline macabre. These poems and stories are perfect for cold, wintery days—or any day, do what thou wilt! They were just too good for us to forget, so we pulled them from the archives, made some edits, and re-shared them with the world! Our hope is that you enjoy them as much as we did! Since this is a free PDF, feel free to share it with your friends and family. Sincerly, R. J. Davies, M. Stoycheff, & P. L. Cobb

table of contents about weird winter...........................................................3 broken................................................................................. 5 do not shriek...................................................................... 7 oh joyous bug....................................................................8 the devilâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s fork...................................................................9 night of a burning heart...................................................12 set fire to something........................................................13 tearing them apart from the inside out...........................................................15 puppeteer........................................................................... 18 to our mercurial savior....................................................19 the mirror of clades..........................................................21 licking the softness...........................................................24 it starts with a whisper....................................................25 beside yourself..................................................................27 after hours..........................................................................28 winter fog...........................................................................32 painful echo........................................................................ 34 zuberi................................................................................... 35 madness.............................................................................. 37 anna..................................................................................... 38 about the authors.............................................................42

r. j. davies

broken

arah stared at the cup. He had given it to her as a gift; it had a picture of them together on it. They both looked so happy, so picture perfect! She had accidentally broken the mug. Shawn had given it to her as a gift and she had broken it. He had gifted the cup to Sarah two weeks ago, when he had asked her out on a date. The cup had shown up on her doorstep with a bouquet of flowers and a handwritten card. She was holding the card in her hand. Looking down at it she swallowed hard; if only she had met him months ago. It was too late now. She didn’t have the strength to invest in another relationship. Besides, Shawn would probably end up like the others. Sarah thought of Allan—who she knew before Shawn came into the picture. Allan promised that he was not like the other guys. She had believed he would be different... That he would understand her... But he hadn’t and now he was gone. Sarah knew she should just swear off men all together. She had tried it a few times. Allan had told her she looked like an angel. That had caught her off guard. Yes, she did turn heads, but lately she felt like she was just going through the motions: smiling when expected, being cordial and kind. It all felt fake. Life felt like a dress rehearsal and she was done with the practicing; she just wanted the real deal, to finally meet the right person who would look at her... Really look at her and see her... And not run away. Looking in the mirror she brushed her hair slowly. “Pretty on the outside... Pure rotten on the inside, “ her mother would tell her that on a daily basis. It didn’t let up as she blossomed in her teens. Mother’s boyfriends would always pay her too much attention, which then spurred the wrath of her mother. It was a no-win situation. Shawn may be different, a little voice whispered in the back of her mind. He could be the one, it persisted. Her eyes found the broken cup again. Then she looked back down at 5

the card. In it Shawn had written: We are all a little broken, it’s having the strength to keep striving for that love connection that makes it all worthwhile. What do you say Sarah? Are you willing to take a chance on me? Shawn. Did she dare call him? She shouldn’t. There was a knock at the door. Putting the card down she went over and opened the door to find Shawn smiling at her. “Well?” he grinned. A smile crept over her lips. If it didn’t work out Sarah could always move on. Shawn would keep the others company in the backyard. Grinning, she thought, It’s not that many: only six ex-boyfriends and one nosy neighbour. There was one thing that all men had in common: they were good for the garden. Her flowers and shrubs were thriving because of them. “Come on Sarah, I’m not like all the other guys.” “Alright,” she nodded. “Let me get my purse and we can take a walk to discuss where you are taking me out for dinner tonight.” “That’s my girl!”

m. stoycheff

do not shriek Spiral down, the dark awaits Hear its sound, the heart pulsates Softly whisper, hear them speak And if you answer: do not shriek

p. l. cobb

oh joyous bug

t sat there, still and silent, watching them as they walked by. So many of them passed it, not a single one of them pausing to look around. Never noticing it. So it sat there, undisturbed. Watching. It liked to watch, sittingâ&#x20AC;&#x201C;sometimes clingingâ&#x20AC;&#x201C;to a tree. When it did move, it did so with careful, calculated moves. Movements were what usually gave it away to them, when they noticed . . . Once or twice this had happened so far, as far as it remembered. And it possessed a large memory for things. There was a crunching noise coming from up ahead; it tensed at the sound, a familiar shuffling. One of them. The red one, to be exact; it always limped along, carrying a stick with it. It drew near, but then fell, its foot caught on a rock. Quivering with excitement, it crawled down from its perch, all but racing to get to the red one. Oh, the months of watching had finally paid off. As it crawled over the screaming red one, it hastily stuck a long proboscis into its neck. Oh, it was so happy to have a meal at last.

r. j. davies

the devil’s fork

he elders had whispered about it ... It took him forever to find it. Every country, every state or province had one. It was just never talked about. The subject was forbidden. He had to do this—it was the right thing to do. There was a heavy dew that clung to the air which shrouded everything in a light mist. His car lights were on and it was the only light he had to see by. Why was midnight so damn important? Chills crawled up his sensitive skin. Closing his eyes tightly he took a deep breath. This was the same road he came out to in the day to check. It was the right place. This was the right thing to do. Self doubt began to creep into the back of his mind. Listening hard he ensured that there was no traffic around; this stretch of road never saw much much traffic during the day. He wasn’t surprised. Pacing up and down, not stepping onto the center of the cross road. Biting his bottom lip hard, he could taste his bitter sweet blood. Licking his wounded lip nervously, he looked over his shoulder. “Forgive me grams, for what I’m about to do.” Holding his breath he rushed to the center of the cross road and pulled the spade out of his back pocket. Digging feverishly, he hacked away at the soil. The hard clay in the middle of the road meant he had to fight hard towards his goal. Then the hole was big enough. He took the metal box from his backpack. With shaking hands he gave it a kiss before placing it in the hole. Then he quickly covered up the box with the rich brownish-red clay. Sitting back on his heels, he frowned and stood up quickly. Forcing himself to take a couple steps back, he resisted the urge to dig it up. “What have I done?” he whispered to himself. Clapping his hand over his mouth he spun around to find just himself in the middle of the road. Something came over him, he took a couple steps back to the mound and stomped on it, pressing the dirt down, then hurried over to his car. Pausing, he looked down at his watch. One minute to midnight. 9

One minute to get the box back! One minute to get the box out of the ground and stop this foolishness. One minute to stop the madness. One minute to save his soul. “Time’s up,” a soft, sultry voice whispered. He almost jumped out of his skin. Spinning around he saw the most beautiful raven haired woman standing in front of him. Her blue eyes were so blue they shone. Her red lips curved into a devilish grin. “Who are you?” She chuckled, “Who do you want me to be?” “I thought ... I thought ...” his voice trailed off. She stepped closer and caressed his cheek with her long, cold fingers. “That I would be what? A male? With cloven hooves, bearing horns on my head?” Tossing her head back she laughed; much like her voice it was hypnotic, like a drug. He blinked and the image of the devil barring hooves and horns appeared before him. “Is this what you thought I would look like?” a deep raspy voice asked. He nodded slightly, not taking his eyes off her or him. The monster changed back to the gorgeous woman who first greeted him. “Isn’t this much better?” the deeply raspy voice chuckled. She cleared her throat. “Well, you summoned me,” her soft sultry voice was back. “I know why but you have to ask for it. Those are the rules.” “Who are you?” he stammered. She laughed ... Paused, tilted her head to the side and grinned. “They were just stories,” he gasped. “Were they?” she whispered. “You can’t be real.” “I don’t have all night kid. I’m the devil, and even I have a schedule to maintain.” “But .... But ... But ...” “Say it,” She whispered inside his mind. “Say the words.” “I need my ...,” he words trailed off as he heard his grandmother’s words warning him. “SAY it,” she stood just inches from him. He could smell fresh baked cookies on her breath. She looked like an angel. “I need my brother back. I want him back alive and healthy like he was before this accident; I want him to be alive and to live a long happy life.” Stepping back, she had a big grin on her face. “You know the price?” Swallowing hard he dared not to blink, but only nodded stupidly. “Good, Jason Mathew Smith, we have a deal. I’ll see you in two years.” “Two years?” That didn’t sound like enough time. 10

“Yes those are the terms. Enjoy your life,” she laughed and disappeared. “Hello?” he heard his brother’s voice calling as he came up the street. “Hello?” “Joey?” Jason spun around. His twelve year old brother came running over to him. “Jay!” Hugging his brother, he just couldn’t believe his eyes. His brother was alive and hugging him. In two years when the hell hounds came, he knew he would remember this moment for the rest of eternity.

m. stoycheff

night of a burning heart Cold blood runs a feral heart As anger rises, it fractures the mind apart A bloody trail from bare feet A glimmering knife; a heartâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s racing beat A solemn task you must complete Spurned by vengeance, its guiding heat You see them walking, laughing in the night. Like shattering glass, your anger takes flight Lunge quickly: take their life Silence the screams and end your strife Lock out the sobbing and finish this path Strike again: give in to Wrath Now walk away, enjoy the dripping blood Your heart is free, lost in the flood Do Not Shriek Spiral down, the dark awaits Hear its sound, the heart pulsates Softly whisper, hear them speak And if you answer: do not shriek

m. stoycheff

set fire to something

he acrid smell of gasoline was as strong as it was heady. It pervaded the air like a poisonous cloud assailing the senses. My nose burned, and my eyes watered as I continued to pour the liquid my hands were shaking. Around me the night screamed in alarm: every bug was a siren, every bird a klaxon. They peered out at me through the darkness of the night. Their accusing glares matched the beating of my heart. They were everywhere, and they pounded against my thoughts like a hammer. I focused on my task. The smell of gasoline... The smell of vengeance and the smell of justice. There was nothing left to my world; all obligations forfeit. Splashing the last few drops I tossed the container aside and fumbled in my pockets for my lighter. This was it. As I went to flick it on I looked up to the face of the scarecrow, his split fibrous grin was dark and slick with liquid. Its eyes were unnaturally focused. Could this demon smell it? Did the smell of the gasoline lead it here? I stumbled back slipping in the slick grass, fear bubbling in the back of my throat. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s head cocked to one side rolling awkwardly. It shuffled toward me, almost unstably. It was a game it played. I had seen it move and I had seen it kill. My eyes looked at the gleaming meat hook stuffed in its right arm, recalling how It strung up Sally from the rafters, how her screams were cut short. My hand clenched the lighter tight as my chest heaved. There was no time left, no air left. I was going to die. Would it do the same to me as it did to all the others? Would it hurt? My vision blurred, I was the only one left after all, who would bury me? The demon lunged at me and I screamed and tried to roll away. The pain was immediate. My fingers dug haphazardly in the earth as I struggled to pull myself away from the fiend, knowing that I was within its clutches. It tugged, and my left leg screamed in agony. Terror and pain erupted from my lips in an anguished and fearful cry. Tears blurred my vision as I fought its supernatural strength. It pulled again, my body sliding in the 13

slick grass with ease. Twisting I swung my leg at it in desperation. It took the blows with ease, its feral grin unflinching. Instead it leaned forward, tearing the hook from my leg with ease, sending shock waves that splintered up my body. I screamed in pain, I screamed for God, even as the black spots formed in between my tears. Despite it’s blurry form I saw its soulless eyes clearly. The eyes of death. I struggled backward as it angled itself even closer, the bloody hook dripping with bits of ragged flesh. I whimpered pleas of sorrow as I continued to struggle backward against the pain. The rough skin of the tree ended my retreat, and I was forced to look up to the demon that loomed over me, like a carving of a statue whose eyes glittered even in the night. I had so many regrets, so many plans for the future. None included this haunting menace. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want any of this, but it was all I had left. The scent of vengeance and the scent of justice. Could they be the same, when the nightmares of the world came crawling out. My hand trembled as I flicked the lighter, bringing a spark to the darkness. The demon peeled, the meat hook flashing brightly in the moonlight, but the flash of fire was faster as it consumed him and the tree that tethered the demon to this world.

p. l. cobb

tearing them apart from the inside out

he grisly task began thusly: lightning quick hands shot out from the shadows, heading straight toward their intended mark, the lone girl. Her scream was cut short as one large hand covered her mouth as the second dug into her chest. With three fingers, he broke a hole through her rib cage. Their eyes met. His body tensed. Once her heart gave out he relaxed. Phase one was complete. Now phase two could commence at a more leisurely pace. It was the initial kill that disturbed him the most: what was reflected in each victim’s eyes always made him recoil. No matter the direction he attacked from their eyes always seemed to find his. No matter how dark they always saw him. He was nothing more than a beast to them. A mere monster. Ugly. Deplorable. He hated it, but at the same time it was also one of the few things that made him feel anything now. When did he become so numb? Pity. He could recall a time when it fascinated him. It was difficult to explain, but their inability to appreciate the magnitude of his beauty and wonder had once piqued his imagination. Other animals inhabiting this plane could see it, but these human creatures lacked the ability. They were the dominant species, so one would assume that they would be the most well-equipped to marvel at—and perhaps even understand—the greater mysteries of the universe, such as himself… They couldn’t. And he was tired of it, yet he still tortured himself anyway. Because he had grown so numb to everything. Was he beginning to hate himself in the way that they did too? Blood sprayed onto his face, mottling his pale skin. He blinked, nonplussed. Three ribs stuck out in the air at odd, jagged angles, but he still felt nothing and was now bored. He had been rapidly losing interest in his hobbies of late. Maybe he had gone through the motions too many times? He stood up and paced around the body. It took all of his 15

will power not to just leave. He knew if he just left he would wallow in self-pity for several months. He just needed to think things through. He growled to himself for several long minutes. He pondered, exploring the many avenues. By many, that meant two or three. Or just one. He stopped to let out a sigh. Then he stood for a few silent minutes staring at a bush. Nothing of note went through his mind during that small period. It was… Mildly pleasant, he realized… Which for a change felt quite nice. Also, he had already known what to do before he stood up. It just hadn’t seemed interesting enough, or enough of anything to carry out. Leaving the body was an option. It was always an option. What the human creatures thought or felt about his work made little difference to him. They had never been able to ruin that for him. His large form leaned over the body again, and thus began his second task. Lightning quick hands took hold of the ribs and refolded them over the girls lungs. Then he folded the skin back over her chest, and whispered a few words. Skin began to fuse with skin. Personally he thought it looked better in shreds, but human bodies were useless if all of their blood was on the ground, and that meant no shredded skin. How the hell did these human creatures not get bored with their state of being? They couldn’t do anything with their bodies. Their minds were weak. They grew old and then just died. He could split himself into two, and blood was simply an option. How dare they hate him! They were the ugly ones. He had known roaches with more inherent beauty! He growled again. He forced the mouth open and breathed into it. Then he did what he was best at and disappeared. From behind a bush he watched as the woman sat up. Her hands began to trace her body, her ripped clothing— then as the realization hit her she froze. Her face was a blank slate, and her eyes… They reflected the most exquisite horror. It was clear that she had seen something. She had the look of someone who had seen something that they were not meant to. Unworthy worm, he thought to himself. He left her to it for a bit. It was good for the heart, and he wanted some form of revenge for her inability to appreciate beautiful things. Such as himself. Without making a sound he crawled from behind the bush and began to slither up to her back. The woman whipped her head around. A pair of accusing eyes burned him. “Leave me alone,” she gasped. He flinched back. Well that was new! Already his interest was beginning to renew itself. She remembered 16

him, could even sense him, but how? Humans still possessed very primitive souls, from what he understood. It took them lifetimes to ascend unto even the smallest shred of greatness, and all because they never remembered their past selves… Did he just prove something wrong? Was it just that human souls were asleep, and they required a traumatic event to help them along? Were they primitive by choice, or by design? Whose design? Oh, this was very new indeed! He watched as the corners of her mouth turned down in disgust, horror, confusion. Maybe he’d like to kiss that mouth and see what would happen then. His tongue would slither down her throat up to her nasal cavity where it would then bore a tiny hole up into her brain case. Then he could see for himself how she felt about him. In one night he went from doing things from the top down, to the bottom up. By tearing them apart from the outside he had been wasting his talents. He needed to work with what was inside. Not just their internal organs, but their puny souls. Being torn apart from the inside changed things, but he needed to know more. Humans had some sort of adage: it’s what’s on the inside that counts! Clearly they had been onto something. They simply needed a guiding hand. His hand. It was no wonder they couldn’t see how marvelous he was! That would be changed forever! The girl’s mouth opened wide, but no scream came out. He had shoved one of his hands down her throat before that could happen. And thus his new task began.

m. stoycheff

puppeteer A smiling face hides more A facade that one can front Various tricks can a smile implore Where truth will only stunt There is a curtain that hides the plots A veil of devious mind racing How can we withstand the onslaught When we donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know who weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re facing Lives are wasted, to men who hold the power Where what is precious is profane An obstacle to simply conquer Until to ashes we all remain In the end we are tied to falsehood Forced to hide our truths within How many waves have we withstood When we are constantly searching to begin How can we find the solace When we don the masks we admonish How do we wipe clean the canvas To cut the strings and vanish

p. l. cobb

to our mercurial savior

he liquid drops. Shifts in heat and pressure tantalize your delicate senses. Titillating sensations run up and down your appendages, and you shiver. Heat rises and falls, teasing you, mesmerizing you like a hooded cobra. In a show of aggression it bares its fangs, hissing. The bones in your ears vibrate; inside your skull it sounds like miners chiseling away at the foundations of your soul. Digging holes in your sanity. You shake your body, desperate to make the noise stop, desperate to stop all sensations. It is useless. In doing so you succeed in increasing the frequency of the sounds. Tapping turns into a shrill trilling, causing your eyes to water. Water mixes itself with the oils from your thick hide, and your eyes begin to sting. It’s as if the cobra has spit its venom into your face. The liquid begins to rise–that’s how it feels to you. An intense pressure begins to bare down on you, crushing you, ripping your skin and snapping your bones. You suddenly realize that you are angry. You are annoyed. The emotions that were once nameless are now terrorizing you, threatening your very existence. The pressure is building up; you stand, precarious, seeking release, moving. Each movement creates friction. Friction creates heat. A tightness surrounds you, and you realize that you are trapped within something. Or tied to it. And then you remember. A grand plan, your masterpiece. Below lies your creation, this meticulous masterpiece. Your order out of chaos. Order and chaos bring to mind your plan. To purge the universe with a flaming sword. Then the death of a god. And rebirth. Without hesitation, you unleash what has been growing inside of you for millennia. A rush of new feelings fill you until you are brimming with joy. You’ve never known the exquisiteness of orgasm until now. Even as your body is falling apart, you are at peace. A once magnificent form regresses back into formless dust, and a vast consciousness dies. We, the creatures you had vowed to save, regress back to a primordial 19

state… Then to the very stardust we were made with. As our hearts and souls become one, it suddenly becomes clear that we did not save ourselves. You were us. Oh, to be as mercurial, and precocious as you are–God! Did you not send us the heretics and blasphemers? And did we not cut them down, even as they slept, like the criminals we were? We live in you, and you die in us. And now are we not one? It is finished. Now our great death shall forever attest to your greatness–God. Let this be our last, melodious song to our mercurial saviour. Blessed be! As our consciousness disperses, we prepare ourselves for a dreamless sleep, secure in the knowledge that we will reform once again. After nameless millennia, when this wretched universe has died, we shall re-emerge as gods–and our realms shall be known as Hell.

m. stoycheff

the mirror of clades

quickened my pace, driving myself forward into the eerie corridor. The object pressed into my body felt heavy and alive, vibrating with an anticipation that only fueled my anxiety. The corridor seemed endless as I passed door after door. The sconces lining the walls were like blackened claws. My burden felt heavy, like an anvil resting on my chest. The further I got the more it seemed to crush me with its weight. Howâ&#x20AC;Ś How was I going to find the courage to go through with it? I resumed my pace, putting one foot in front of the other with purpose. There was no point in turning back now. The corridor curved slightly, the moonlight filtering through the windows, shedding little by way of light, but I had been here plenty of times before. It was a journey I could have made blindfolded. Suddenly two flashes of light bloomed into existence as I neared the end of the corridor. Their blue flames danced wildly in the darkness. I stared into the flame that announced my presence, the light like two glaring eyes, as if they knew what I was here to do. Pushing the guilt down I walked up to the door. The door was lined and knotted as if it were cut from a single slab of wood, and the area around the doorknob was polished with years of use. I hesitated, my hand hanging inches from the knob like a noose while my heart pounded in my throat. The Object gave a hum of irritation and the lights beside me flickered, sputtering out, before resuming their fierce dance. The face of my Mother and Brother flashed before me. Their cries of agony struck me as whips cracked across them. My hand trembled at the memory. I inched my hand forward, clasping the cold metal. I was the only one that could do this and courage was a warm friend to what I was feeling. Swallowing, I wrenched the door open and walked inside. Everything screamed at me to run from this place. Soren stood with his back to me, a pale orb of white light floating lazily 21

above him. My heart contracted at the sight of him. Even with his back to me I could still see his face. His green eyes focused, his jaw set, as he concentrated wholly on his project. I remembered a younger version of him, his young face focused on bringing a small flame to life in his palm, a tiny thing that danced across his fingers playfully. I pushed the memory aside. It would only hinder me. “Soren” I spoke quietly, my voice sounding thick, “I’m sorry to show up this late… I–just had to talk to you about something.” I finished in a rush, my cheeks flaming. At the sound of my voice Soren spun on his heels, his face a mask of recognition. The light above him shone brightly before going out, leaving us in the warm light of the torches. “Aimee!” He exclaimed, rushing over to hug me. “It’s so good to see you! What a pleasant surprise!” His arms wrapped around me engulfing me in his robes. The scent of mint hung heavy about him. I stood there in his arms, willing myself not to explode in tears as the stress built up. I refused to hug him back. I did not deserve his affection. Soren took no notice of it, nor of the ornate item held in my hand. “Here,” He paused, putting up his hand to prevent me from talking. “Before you start, let me get you something to drink.” A warm smile flashed across his face, slicing me like the whip across the skin of my family. A whistle broke through his lips as he crossed the small space of his chamber to a small breakfast nook in one corner. A vase of bright flowers sat on the table, shining in the moonlight. I turned and shut the door to his chamber. With his back still towards me I turned the object around, though I dared not look into it. The object itself was an ancient ornate glass that sang with power. It froze my hands. Oval in shape, a picture of writhing bodies was carved into the back of it, the faces screamed in agony as a power bore down on them. Their eyes were set with small rubies. The glass let out a content sigh as it took in the room, consuming every detail, including the power that rolled off Soren. With a final whistling note he turned toward me a steaming mug in his hand and a radiant smile on his face. That beautiful smile contorted with confusion as he looked at me. As he looked at the object in my hand. His confusion turned to sadness. My heart throbbed as his face took on betrayal, the question of why she was doing this plain on his face. My heart exploded with sorrow. I couldn’t do this, not to him. I started to lower the glass, before my arm suddenly froze, the faces on the mirror glaring at me. They wanted his power, and they were going to have it. Fear exploded through me as I desperately tried wrenching my arm away. But it was no use, it was like my arm was stone. “No! Soren!” I cried, my desperation clawing at my throat. “Oh Gods no! I’m sorry! Please, no!” 22

The bones in my shoulder cracked as I tried to move away. Pain flooded my arm. I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t care though; I had to get it away from him. I froze as my eyes met his, and the world slowed as I watched the glass take effect. Like a rock against glass his face exploded in a series of fissures that spider webbed across him. The moving fissures traveled across his face like a ship cutting through water. Tears rolled down my face like a river as his handsome face was disfigured with cracks. The room behind him dulled as if the vitality was being drawn from it, the stones greying from their white sheen, the vase of flowers dying, falling in a cluster of colorful sparks that wafted into the mirror. The mirror vibrated in my hand. I watched in horror as the picture on the back of the glass started to move, the bodies writhing and twisting as Sorenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hair twisted and ran like golden fire into the mirror, leaving his scalp bare and cracked. Cries rose from the mirrorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s surface. Their wails were a chorus of sorrow and pain as the Looking Glass throbbed. Time sped up as bone appeared through his flesh, and his brown robes frayed and decayed, disintegrating into sparks. The moving picture changed. A new figure appeared on the scene as another figure disappeared. I watched him dissolve before me. The face of my childhood friend was gone. The memories that we shared, the times we spent together. Gone. Consumed by the dark power within this thing. My arm unfroze and I fell to the ground, staring at the spot where he stood. The wood in that spot was rotted and warped. The clean smell of his magic was replaced with the cloying scent of burnt cloth, charred wood and death. A sob bubbled in my throat. Was this the price I had to pay? Become a murderer to save my family? I had to feed my friend to a power that he could not even defend against, because no one else could get to him. Would Asmodeus be happy now, now that my friend was gone? I dropped the glass. It rolled away on its side, but I ignored it. Instead I held myself, my body racked with sobs.

p. l. cobb

licking the softness Licking the softness, tasting the sweetness– that sugary goodness– “Oh, sweet flesh of mine!” (Devouring) (Engorging) Licking and sucking, greedily lapping warm bodies quivering– “Oh, you spoil me, Richard!” (Licking) (Licking) (Licking) Sanguine streams flow lazily across eyes rolling crazily– (Biting) (Sucking) (Lapping) “Oh, I could eat you up, Richard!” Licking the softness...

r. j. davies

it starts with a whisper

hh... I try to calm the whisper down. It won’t be subdued. No, it won’t. The words that are coming from the whisper are dark, lonely, and scary. So scary, and almost evil. Where is the whisper coming from? Surely it’s not from me? It always starts with just a whisper. When it is just a whisper I can suppress it, ignore it, pretend it’s not there. After all it’s just a whisper in my head. The problem with that: the whisper can turn into a roar like the raging sea. As a whisper it’s harmless, or so they say. “Come dance with me...” “Come sit with me in this cold darkness...” “Come lay down with me...” “Let me fold you in my arms, let me hide you from the light...” I give in to the whisper. I cross over to the dark side for a short spell. I take the plunge. Then I change my outlook: I can handle this! I am in control now. I’ve got this! It’s like skipping back and forth. It’s as if the whispers were nothing and my fears were irrational, and then the cycle repeats itself. Nothingness. Darkness. Emptiness. Coldness. The whisper becomes louder and more demanding this time. The calling. My yearning. This need becomes a heady desire that must be fulfilled, and so the visits into the darkness become more frequent. The whisper becomes insatiable, until it takes over my life. The darkness becomes my companion, like a lost lover that I have been 25

reunited with and can no longer bear to be separated from. Again I forget what scared me about that little whisper. Why did I ignore it? “Home...” The darkness of my soul feels like home. This is where I belonged all along. It always starts with just a whisper. “Come play with me....”

p. l. cobb

beside yourself You are outside yourself. Outside of the who That is you. The vessel of warm, Pulsing meat Lying limp like a doll Unresponsive, Passive. It has your face. It takes up all of your space. But for all the blank stares It will never let you go back. Was this ever really you? Are you beside yourself? (Or have you been replaced by some other self?)

r. j. davies

after hours

ith a shaky inhale she grasped the wall looking for support. There were some things that humans were just not meant to witness. Swallowing hard she couldn’t believe what she just saw. No… This had to be some kind of sick prank… It wasn’t real. Closing her eyes tightly she tried to block out the images that came flooding back in her mind. Her heart began racing again. No, this couldn’t be happening. She had to call the police, they would know what to do! Wouldn’t they? What would happen if they didn’t believe her? What would happen if they took too long to get here and he had cleaned up the mess in his office? Jill reached in her pocket for her phone. She didn’t have it! It was stuck in her purse, which was back in his office, along with her car keys and everything she held dear. Her mother’s voice whispered in her brain… Only the gifted are selected. We come from a long line of protectors. It’s our job to protect the world from demons. Demons? What about psychotic bosses who decided to go on murderous rampages? He wasn’t a demon, but he was a murder. A loud scraping sound sent a shiver crawling up her spine. He was close. He was going to find her! She had done everything for him. She was his cheerleader. She had followed him around like a lovesick puppy! She even wanted to have a relationship with that monster! He was a monster. Jill knew she had to get out of the building. They were the only two people left here. She just had to get past him and then run. She needed to run like her life depended on it, because it did! Jill Ombright had worked for Frank Gelworth for the last five years. She watched him as he rose in the ranks from intern to upper management in one year. She had been thrilled when she was hired to be his assistant. Jill always felt like there was chemistry between them. It was only recently that she was beginning to see what a leach Frank could be. He was her boss and took credit for her work at every turn. 28

He had her work late all the time and she was more than happy to take on his workload. She was a fool. Never in a million years would she have thought he was crazy. Lazy at times but not crazy! “Think Jilly. Think!” she whispered to herself. She had to get out and get away from him. Once she got outside she could hopefully find someone who had a phone and call 911. He couldn’t get rid of that mess so quickly. He couldn’t even wipe his desk off when he spilled coffee, he would call her in to do it. No, he was crazy but there was no way he could get rid of that mess. There had been so much blood everywhere! They had specialists that could find blood even after someone cleaned up a crime scene. Her stomach lurched at the thought, and she covered her mouth with a hand; she couldn’t afford to get sick here. He would surely hear her and then she would be like the very nice security guard Mike Black. No, she couldn’t risk it! Trying to focus her attention on something else. Laundry–she had a basket full of dirty clothes and if she didn’t get out of here they wouldn’t get done. Her family would come to her home and find a basket full of laundry. Swallowing hard she peeked around the corner and saw that it was empty. Where did he go? The stairs were less than three feet from her. If she made it to the stairs and got down to the lobby surely she could get out the front door! The throb of blood pulsing in her ears was making it really hard to hear. Holding her breath she decided to just make a break for it. Keeping low she raced for the stairwell and as she was reaching for the handle Frank swung his ax at her hand, nearly cutting into her skin. Yelping she jumped backwards and stared at it wide eyed. She willed her legs to move. She was paralyzed. It was hard just to breathe. “Jill, I didn’t give you permission to leave work early.” Her eyes drifted to his face. He looked the same as always. This just had to be some kind of dream. Or a nightmare. This couldn’t be happening in real life. He reached out and put his free arm around her and guided her back to his office. Jill thought she was going to have a heart attack along the way. She wasn’t spared the torture of seeing the remains of Mike lying on the floor in a rich warm red pool of his own blood. She opened her mouth to plead for her life but nothing came out. “Jill I don’t know what you thought you saw here tonight but I assure you it was nothing.” She couldn’t take her eyes off Mike. “Jill, I’m talking to you.” Swallowing she felt herself hyperventilating. He came over and stood between her and Mike and all she saw was his face. He seemed full of 29

concern. “Jill can you hear me?” She opened her mouth again. Jill gasped. “Jill you need to calm down. You’re going to kill yourself.” Her head began pounding. She was clutching his arms for support but she couldn’t look at him. Air. She needed air. Then everything went dark. Her eyes fluttered open and she forgot where she was at first. Then it all came flooding back. Her eyes went to the spot where Mike’s dead body had been. He wasn’t there! The place looked clean! What? How? “Jill,” Frank came over to her quickly holding a glass of cold water out to her. “Here drink this” His voice was soft and full of concern. Kindness. He was showing her kindness. “But … But …. Where is … I saw …,” she stammered. “What is it Jill?” “Hey you two still here?” Mike poked his head in. Jill’s eyes went wide. He was alive! How? “Hey Mike, yes we’re just wrapping up.” “Jill are you okay?” She nodded. “She passed out.” “Would you like me to call the paramedics?” “No,” she shook her head slowly as she sat up. She was sitting on Frank’s sofa. Grabbing her head she closed her eyes. What the hell, did she have a nightmare? A vision? Her mother did warn her that seeing their own deaths ran in the family. Could that have been a vision? Mike came into the office and rested his hand on her shoulder. “Are you going to be alright Jill?” She looked up at him and felt her stomach lurch. His eyes were glowing red. Looking over at Frank she saw his eyes were glowing purple. She was suffering a delusion or something. “I think I’ll be fine, I’m just going to go now.” She got up. “That might be a good idea.” Mike patted her on the shoulder. “It’s on bitch,” Frank growled. “I think we should get Jill out of here first,” Mike snarled. “Yes, let’s get Jill out of here first,” she whispered. Her heart began to race as she remembered this was how her vision had unfolded. It wasn’t that Frank was a monster, Mike was one too. She was supposed to be a monster slayer of sorts, but she just didn’t believe her mother until now. Jill wished she had taken her mother more seriously. Just like in her 30

vision she made a break for the door just as Frank attacked Mike with an axe! She was as good as dead. The visions are a blessing and a curse but they are never changing! As her motherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s words whispered in her mind she raced for her life.

p. l. cobb

winter fog

he air was bitter cold and tasted like ice. She took quick, panting breaths on her way up the slope. Snow surrounded her, colourless and cold while stark sunlight reflected off of it, blinding her. Her vision was pink around the edges. She chided herself for not wearing the sunglasses–they had been on the bench before she left the house. Oh well. Too late now. When she crested the slope she stopped. She felt a terrible thirst in her body, so she took a drink. The light was also beginning to overwhelm her. With her free hand she shielded her gaze. Before her the lake spread itself out. For miles it was just water as far as her eyes could see. Closer to the shore there were dead trees sticking out of the water, covered from top to bottom in gnarled icicles. A thick fog was beginning to rise up from the water, diffusing the sunlight as it did so, obscuring everything beyond it. She gasped as a cloud of vapour rushed towards her, engulfing her. What kind of natural phenomena caused this, she wondered to herself. A shift in the wind? If so, it was a very light wind, she thought to herself. Everything went silent. There was no more rustling in the tree branches behind her, no birds or other wildlife–everything around her paused. She felt like she was alone in a desolate landscape. She was a photographer though. All she had wanted was to capture a muse, so to speak. Well, here it was... The photographer raised her camera and began to photograph what she saw. Her fingers quickly became numb from the cold, but she continued to click away with her camera, capturing image after image after image. By the time the fog rolled away the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon. How long had the fog lasted? She had only been there for twenty minutes. Not even that. Or at least that’s how it had seemed to her at the time. It was only natural to get carried away, she supposed. But the idea was ridiculous, and she just couldn’t bring herself to believe it. She knew herself: she was not one to lose track of things. Her life consisted of 32

deadlines. Time was precious, pre-measured, and quantified. A frown wrinkled her brow, and her thirst returned. Now that the fog was gone she could see the entire lake. It was beautiful, vast, and even more mysterious in the growing twilight. The shoreline on the other side was faint, but it was there. Her numb hands raised the camera again out of instinct. She stopped herself. Something from the corner of her eye brought her attention back to the shoreline. A large, bird-like creature was resting on one of the dead trees. It must have landed while the fog was rolling out. It seemed to be sleeping, its head tucked neatly beneath a wing. The only thing she could think was how big the creature was. One step. Two steps. And then she was ten feet away from the creature, her curiosity finally in check. It wasn’t a bird. That was so obvious now that she wanted to hit herself. The creature’s plumage twinkled in the light of the dying sun. A gust of wind stirred its feathers. They were indigo. The photographer had never seen anything like this before. After staring at it for several agonizing minutes it became apparent to her that the creature was watching her. A pair of silver eyes examined her through a veil of feathers. She just hadn’t noticed that it had been peeking at her. The creature shook itself, and then spread its wings wide as she stood transfixed in place. She gasped. The thing was humanoid in shape. Six wings stretched out wide, and the creature yawned. It had... It’s mouth was a vertical line running up the middle of its face... Multiple rows of red teeth shone in the light. Now she understood what people meant when they described something as both awful and beautiful. Then the creature shook itself again, and covered it’s face and feet with two wings each. The other pair of wings that were above it’s head began to hum. A small voice within her called the thing for what it was. It was a seraph. A messenger of god. For some unknown reason it wanted to be seen by her. She took another step forward. The sun sank below the tree line.

m. stoycheff

painful echo Dreams that border nightmare In the realm of thought revealing A glimpse into that stare Recall the painful echoes: up-heaving Burdened by the past An icon of woe and pain How does this unwavering flame last Against the torrent of the rains You must face the past with intention Let your voice stand tall Unleash your thoughts with conviction Unveil the truth behind your walls

r. j. davies

zuberi

e better show up! She couldn’t believe this. The last twenty-four hours felt like a nightmare, and here she was standing on a ledge. Below her was a blazing inferno, a mess of fire and human souls. “Well?” he appeared in front of her. Tall, strong and handsome—and so very powerful. In his human form she saw her ex-husband grinning at her. They had been married for six years before the divorce. Katie had heard her friends talk about what demons their exes had been. But her exhusband was a demon. Kyle Miller, or that was who she had known him as, always seemed so gentle and attentive to her every need. The downside of their marriage came in the form of strange calls and even stranger visitors; when the long absences started Katie had had enough. Five years of wedded bliss went out with a bang during their final year. Kyle had been missing for so long that he was presumed dead. Katie filed for a divorce. She had mixed feelings over the affair. The day when he showed up on her front door had surprised her. When she told him to leave he surprised her again by starting a shouting match. After showing him the divorce papers she woke up to find herself on this ledge. “Who are you?” “Who do you want me to be?” “What happened to the real Kyle?” “I made him up.” “What?” He nodded with a smile. “You’re lying.” He raised an eyebrow, “Am I?” “Go to hell!” He laughed, “Oh sugar, we are already here.” “What is your real name?” 35

“Zuberi.” “Zuberi?” He nodded. “What are you?” He smirked, “A god.” “What am I doing here?” “You’re my wife. It’s about time you met the rest of my family.” “We’re divorced!” “That’s not recognized down here,” he chuckled again. “This can’t be real.” He leaned close to her and whispered, “Then wake up.” “Am I sleeping?” He laughed and the sounds ricocheted off the walls as he shook his head no. Her mother had warned her about him. Why hadn’t she listened?

m. stoycheff

madness What truths do you behold? What visions do you see? Madness is often uncontrolled When fueled by atrocities What say you? Do you wish to speak? Shall your vision ensue? Shall we take a peek? So speak your words That’s it, don’t be shy. Shout it from your innards Let your voice amplify Hmm, how amusing that your voice is voiceless You’re but a phantom in your mind Your actions too, are useless Your free will has been confined It’s okay to cry Humans often do. The truth is: you don’t want to die However, there is no other avenue There is that truth: now behold That reality you now see Your madness has awakened tenfold You shall commit terrible atrocities.

r. j. davies

anna

nna poured herself another glass of wine. She was sitting at the kitchen island but was turned to face the hallway. There was a mirror hanging on the wall and her reflection watched her every move. She eyed the beautiful woman staring back at her. She couldn’t recall putting that mirror up. Had Ken done that for her? Poor Ken. He just didn’t understand that pretty people didn’t really have to do anything in this world except let others worship their beauty. Ken, her newest boyfriend… Rich, not so handsome, but very doting. He followed her around and did whatever she asked. Or he did up until an hour ago when he left in a huff. What did he mean by that, ‘What will happen to you when your beauty fades and all you have left is your inner beauty for the world to see?’ She didn’t like that. Not for a minute. How dare he imply that she could lose her beauty! Plain people always used that inner beauty crap as a weapon of choice. They liked to refer to it as if it were something special, use it as a sledgehammer of sorts in a verbal argument. She paused at the thought… Verbal argument? Sure that was a thing, wasn’t it? Hmph! Plain people were not special. They were here to take care of the beautiful people of the world, like her. They were lucky to be graced with such a task! She sniffed and sipped her wine. Anna felt like she might have a cold coming on. Ken had been a dear to provide her with this delicious bottle of red wine. Wine was made from grapes and they were fruit. Fruit was good to have when you might be coming down with something, her mother would always say that. Anna took the bottle and her glass and headed off to the living room where she sat down on the sofa. Kicking her feet up she turned on the TV and surfed channels as she continued to sip at her wine. If Ken didn’t come back to make her dinner she would have to order out. What a shame, especially after they had gone shopping, that he would make her waste their money like that! 38

Anna finally found something fashion related to watch. Checking out the latest buys she marvelled that she had already purchased a couple of those outfits last week. Yes, she was on top of it all! Ken and people like Ken just didn’t know how much work it took to look so beautiful. She had to make hair appointments, shop, travel to beauty spas, do her make up… The list was just too great. No, he had no idea and there was just no way to convey this information to him. Ugly and normal people had it made. Really they did. All they had to do was work for a living. Her tummy growled. Well, that just settled it. Shame on him for not getting back here to make her food! Now she had to get up and get her cell phone and call for take out. She felt the stress of the burden mounting within her. Anna reminded herself that she really should book an appointment for the spa tomorrow. Stress caused wrinkles and this mad man was making her stress! Ken would just have to pay for that too, after all he should be here for her. Where was he anyways? Anna took five minutes to hunt down her cell phone and dropped back into the sofa, feeling as if she just went through a workout. She quickly ordered the usual from her favourite French restaurant, and they would be there within forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes! Ken was really going to hear about this when he returned. Anna thought she heard something. Like something clawing at the wall? She was hearing a lot of weird noises lately. She turned the TV off and listened hard. No … No, there was nothing. Looking back at the TV she noticed her reflection was a little distorted. It looked like a shadow running across the room. She quickly turned around but there was nothing behind her. Nothing. Looking back at the TV her reflection still appeared to be distorted and very wrong. She didn’t look like herself at all. Flicking the TV on she got up and checked her reflection in the mirror. Mirrors didn’t lie. Anna looked and saw her perfect reflection. Examining herself from every angle she felt pleased with what she saw. Then her reflection winked at her. Her mouth dropped open. Did she just wink at herself? Or did her reflection wink at her? She laughed, “oh Anna, you’re being silly.” Anna touched the cool mirror. It was solid and smooth. It was just a reflection. She stifled a yawn. Staring at herself for a few more minutes she was pleased that it was just a reflection and nothing more. Turning she slowly made her way back to the sofa and sat down. Putting her feet up she 39

stretched. Watching TV made her tired, and she drifted off. *** As soon as her human host was in a deep sleep, the monster within woke up. Grinning she got up and peered at her human reflection. She did wink at the human earlier and was pleased that it made Anna a little uneasy. These fragile creatures were too easy for the taking. Especially the beautiful ones, the ones that were vain, shallow and lazy. Perfect for the seizing! The door opened and in came the human called Ken. “I’m sorry for earlier Anna,” he presented her with a large bouquet of flowers. Red roses. They were her favourites. “You should be,” Anna walked out to the kitchen. Ken followed. “I know you are beautiful on the inside as well as the outside.” She paused and turned to him, tilting her head. “Do you?” He nodded. “Am I?” He nodded again. “I’m sorry.” “I am sure you are,” she grinned. ‘Oh Anna, you do provide me with the best food,’ she thought to herself. “Will you marry me?” Ken asked. “Marry you?” she laughed. “I’m sorry, you’re right.” He got down on one knee and smiled broadly. “Anna, will you marry me?” “Ken, there is something you should know,” she began laughing “Anna?” he got up and looked at her, wondering how to react to her outburst. She stopped laughing and walked over to him grinning. “Ken, I am going to keep you with me always.” He smiled, taking her response as a yes. Hugging her tightly he kissed her on the lips. She grabbed his head with her hands and held him to her face as she began sucking the soul and energy from his body. She loved watching the eyes of her food as they realized the kiss was no longer a kiss. That there was something wrong, something so very wrong going on. She was stronger than she appeared. He struggled to push her away with all his might but it wasn’t enough—she wasn’t human, for the most part she was but this part of her, the demon side, wasn’t something the strongest human would want to mess with. His struggling turned frantic as he kicked and punched at her. She simply devoured him like he was a bowl of soup. When she was done, he was done. The life left his eyes and the struggle left his limbs. He slumped to the floor, lifeless on the cold white marble floor. 40

Grinning she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. Sighing with the satisfaction from eating a good hearty meal she looked down at the body just as the doorbell rang. Anna felt her human side stirring at the sound. Waving her hand at the empty air near Ken’s lifeless body she opened a black portal and rolled him into it. Waving her hand again she closed the portal just as the doorbell rang a second time and her human woke from her slumber. *** Stretching, she yawned. Anna rubbed her stomach and looked around herself. How did she manage to get out into the kitchen? Sleep walking again? She looked at the island. Flowers? Ken was back! Great! The doorbell rang again. She hurried over to it. Opening the door she found the delivery guy smiling at her. “Good evening miss Anna. You are looking good tonight.” “I look good every night,” she snapped. She felt a little irritated and didn’t know why. Handing him cash she took her dinner and closed the door. She took her food out to the kitchen and left it on the counter. “Ken?” she shouted. “Ken are you here?” Anna searched for him but found only the flowers and the engagement ring he had left on the counter. Opening the bags up she pulled out her dinner. The food smelled delicious but suddenly she didn’t feel hungry anymore. Why didn’t she feel hungry? Where was Ken? What was taking him so long? He should be back by now. She took her food into the living room and sat down. Flicking channels she found an old movie she liked. Glancing at the door she hoped he would return soon. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone but she really liked having him around. Anna sighed and settled in to watch the movie. She had a feeling she wasn’t alone and it wasn’t scary. It was actually comforting.

about the authors

r. j. davies R. J. Davies, has lived in Toronto for a few years, currently resides in her home town Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario. She has been writing since she was 8 years of age, telling stories, daydreaming, creating, and developing characters, places and tales of woe.

m. stoycheff M. Stoycheff is a Canadian Indie Author and poet. Currently, he is working on novel called Lake Birchwood, which is about a boy who is forced to confront his demons and finally find acceptance in who he is. Literal monsters may be present!

p. l. cobb P.L. Cobb is the creator and editor of Rule of Three! By day she works as a freelance graphic designer/social media manager, and by night she works as an author, an editor, and much more. Currently she is working on several books.