Terror Tuesday: Watch Your Step

The streetlight flickered once, and then went dark.
The moon was lost behind the thickest clouds
Of winter. Lena's snow boot scuffed a mark
Hacked into curbside ice. The slightest sound
Would carry through this silence. There was not
A breath of wind. She tensed, stopped in her tracks,
And softly cursed. Already she felt hot.
Beneath the earth and surging through its cracks,
It rose,  a geothermal force endowed
With vast malevolence was now awake,
And Lena knew it. With a scream so loud
It hurt her own ears, she ran, felt a quake,
And all her body's water turned to steam.
No one was there to hear her final scream.

Terror Tuesday: Somebody Knew

Miss Maya, how she loved a mystery,
Especially if it chanced to have a ghost.
She kept alert for these, was rarely free
Of thoughts of what intrigued that girl the most.
Then came a night, house-sitting for a friend,
When she got what she'd wished for. It began
When Snowball, a small, yappy dog, did spend
An hour barking. "What's wrong,  fuzzy man?"
He whimpered, then, and hid  behind a chair.
She searched the house, but didn't find a thing.
Then something grabbed her by her long brown hair.
She screamed, and tried to turn, but couldn't bring
Her eyes in focus. Meanwhile, a new text
Chimed  in her phone. "He's loose!  I think you're next!"

Terror Tuesday: 'Tis Not the Season

It seemed too soon, on January third,
To take down her most gorgeous Christmas tree,
And so she left it up, but gave her word
That ere the month was over it would be
Back in its box. Weeks passed, and months did, too.
Then one spring night, when she had come home late
From revels in the warmer weather -- true,
I swear it! -- she did trip and seal her fate.
The string of lights glowed red and wrapped around
Her limbs to hold her fast, as ornaments
Flew at her face and shattered! She lay, bound
And lacerated in a most intense
And gory crime scene after weeks had passed.
Was it an accident? Revenge at last?

Terror Tuesday: My Special Brew

Oh, do please try this tea; it's just the best.
I harvest it myself from out in back.
I just cut this, this morning. Careful, lest
You spill it. Blossoms such as these, they lack
Robustness, and are thus quite hard to grow.
Oh, I just have the knack, I guess. One learns
By doing. Say, does anybody know
If that poor girl has turned up? Oh, it burns?
It's not that hot, is it? Oh, wait, I get
Your meaning. It's quite tart. Acquired taste,
Perhaps. So no, she's missing still? I bet
The flowers will love her. Oh, I spoke in haste!
It's "would" I meant. Don't edge away, my dear.
You can't escape, and must drink up, I fear.

Terror Tuesday: The Dinner Party

I hope you like this stew,  I made it just
For you and lovely Karen. It's so rare
To have such neighbors one can really trust.
Have more, I do insist. I mean it.  There
Is plenty, and I'm proud of it.  You taste
My secret additive, I bet! You two,
No fooling you! What's that? No, no, don't waste
A moment while it's hot. No, really,  you...
Your kids are fine.  Whatever do you mean?
They're outside in the yard.  See them at play?
I do not like your tone.  Don't make a scene!
I'd never harm them.  Cook them? Oh, I say!
That's horrifying! What? That's what you'd like?
Excuse me, then.  Oh no,  please,  no,  don't strike--

Terror Tuesday: The Room Tone

Those things that share our spaces, but cannot
Be sensed by humankind, sometimes are found
By strange experiments. Sometimes, unsought,
However, they're discovered through their sound.
Such happened as a narrator, by night
Was cleaning up her day's recording work.
She'd worked to make her studio just right,
But still, persistent noise would cause a jerk
Of grim annoyance. As she analyzed
The tones beneath her room tone, she'd a shock.
Such whispers, such foul utt'rances, disguised
As emptiness! Each ticking of the clock,
Persuading us, in silence, to do ill,
Perverting ev'ry talent, ev'ry skill!

Terror Tuesday: The Squeaking of the Sky

We crossed the bridge at sunset ev'ry night,
My little dog and I, and on our walk
We loved to watch the bats begin their flight
From underneath its planks. Sometimes I'd talk
To Sadie pup about the "flying mice".
She'd bark and try to catch them as they passed
Beneath us. But one night, the weather nice,
An autumn eve of rare perfection, last
We'd see... I don't know what had changed, but they
We'd celebrated wheeled about as one
And flew at us, until we ran away!
They chased us for a mile or more. The sun
Had gone, and they were hungry. Now I fear
The squeaking of the sky, when they draw near.

- Inspired by Eric Orchard and Orrin Grey

Terror Tuesday: Keep Your Distance

That first embrace on stepping from a plane
Is tend'rest, but that morning in New York
Changed ev'rything. Already in her brain
The teeming creatures seethed, then pulled the cork.
She nuzzled at his earlobe and then spit
Right into the canal. That's all it took.
Days later, when she fell down in a fit,
'Twas far too late. Pause now and take a look.
You know that more than half of all you see
Around you are infected. Just one kind
And ordinary human thing could be
The last you e'er perform. Say, would you mind
Just holding still a moment? Something's there
I'll brush it off. Oh no, it's in your hair...

Terror Tuesday: Soiled Overalls: The Trey McCumber Story

The barn, 'twas said, was older than all three
Of his old uncles put together. Trey
And his two brothers liked to go and see
What they could find inside it, but by day
Alone. At night its eeriness was more than such
Young boys could deal with -- that is, 'til the night
That Trey, who'd just turned nine, screwed up as much
Raw courage as he could, grabbed knife and light
And went inside. The shadows seemed malign
But 'twas the yowl that chased him back outside.
Days later he heard tell that Auntie Vine
Had used to drown stray cats in there. He tried
Again, and heard that terrifying screech
And saw a ghost cat flailing, out of reach!

Terror Tuesday: Chokecherry Season

The tree was old as old. Its berries, tart
But tempting, drew the birds from miles around
To feast, but only when the juicy heart
Of ev'ry fruit was well fermented. Sound
And fury and intoxicated flight
Would follow then, as any might expect,
But something always happened overnight,
The flocks of morning, maddened, strong and wrecked
Were filled with strange hostility as each,
Once bowels were emptied (purple stains galore,
A dire warning), all as one would screech
And dive bomb any mammal by the score.
Thus August brought death on the angry wing ,
The tree just standing silent. Vicious thing...

Terror Tuesday: The Wrong Time for an MRI

"It's fine," technicians told her. "We'll be here
Throughout your time inside. And here's a thing
To press if you need out. But don't let fear
Delay this; get it overwith. We'll bring
Some water and some cold packs if you get
Too panicky. They'll be here, just outside
When you're all done." "Ok," she said. "I bet
I don't freak out 'til afterwards. Let's ride."
Halfway through, all just stopped. "Hello?" she called,
And pressed the button sev'ral times. "What's wrong?
Hey, where'd you go?" There was no sound. She bawled
"Please let me out!" The screams she heard were strong
Enough to penetrate the great machine
In darkness. "Tell me this is just a dream?"

Terror Tuesday: Thirst

The forest floor was dry. The needles shed
By long-dead evergreens crunched underneath
The hikers' boots 'Twas as if all had fled,
E'en water from the creek beds. No relief,
Save what they'd brought in bottles, could be found.
The air itself seemed it would dessicate
Their flesh. Still up they climbed, the stony ground
A challenge, but all right. Then it grew late.
A likely spot they knew of was the site
They camped at, with no fire, lest they should burn
The region down. They nodded off that night...
Just how it happened we did never learn.
When others found them, at midday, the pair
Were crisp and desiccated, lying there.

Terror Tuesday: Inhalation Damage

What rose up from the burning trees was not
Just any ordinary drifting smoke.
The flames were not just ordinar'ly hot.
'Twas something in the wood, perhaps. They spoke
At first of beetles; timber they had killed
Burnt diff'rently. But soon the valley knew,
Especially those who'd worked that wood, who'd milled
It into Forest Products: it was blue
And lovely, yes, but it was also cursed.
As smoke did cloud the valley, each man saw
As enemies his neighbors. All dispersed.
Distrust grew into hate and fear. The law
Was powerless. The murders didn't stop
Until one frightened cop was left on top.

Dog Week: Terror Tuesday: A Neighborhood's Revenge

It was a Tuesday, very hot for June,
When Zoe told the others what she'd learned.
The dogs declared this very afternoon
Was when they'd act upon the rage which burned
In each of them. By ones and twos they left
Their yards (their masters working or at naps)
And all, the mighty dogs whose heft
Defeated humans; smaller ones whose yaps
Pierced space and time, did gather at the place
Described by Zoe, and began their Howl
Of Condemnation. Ev'ry canine face
Was black with concentration. One last yowl
And lo, the ritual was quite complete,
Cat killer's screams of horror sounding sweet.

Terror Tuesday: Cross-Species Contamination

So badly wounded he could barely stand
Came Fenrir. The apothecary groaned
To see him. Werewolves, he'd said, should be banned.
Now here one was. "Please help me, Fenrir moaned
And held up one bright token that could not
E'er be rejected. He was hemorrhaging.
"Oh no! 'Tis a disaster! I have got
So little blood in stock!" "Doc, this thing --"
"Yes, yes, shut up. But all I have is Vlad.
I need more donors!" "Doc, you must obey --"
"I know. But this will be so very bad..."
But this transfusion did indeed take place,
And now a werewolf-vampire's ours to face.

Terror Tuesday: Undone

The sign read "De-Tattooing - Painless - Free".
He'd driven by it ev'ry day and rubbed
The ink upon his forearm. "Lorelei
Forever." His sweet wife had always dubbed
It Fred's mistake, and made him promise no
Such thing would bear her name. Why not find out
What could be done? The woman made a show
Of checking out the art, then said "About
Ten minutes." Then, though he'd not said
To do it, she applied the gun and smiled.
It drew the ink from out his skin. His head
Grew heavy. As she worked, his dreams were wild.
When he awoke, he sat within his truck,
No ink, or mem'ry of his life or luck.

Terror Tuesday: True Terror, Part II

He'd checked a dozen times, but nothing 'bout
That ice cream truck was sinister. Indeed,
The driver was a frat brother. His shout
That first day was expressing his mere need
For beers after his shift; soon Cooley'd made
A great new friend. But then came rain that would
Not stop. As his child grew, the plans he'd laid
Proved problematic. Roads washed out for good,
Thick mold appeared on ev'rything, his wife
Had allergy attacks that almost killed
Them both, and still the rain fell. "Eff my life!"
Said Tad (the ice cream man) on a quick break.
Come see this massive earthworm! Why'd you shake?'

Terror Tuesday: True Terror, Part I

"Bestseller" was a title from his dreams,
But now it was quite real for Cooley. All
His wishes had come true, as though bright beams
Of pure good fortune shone on him. The tall
And handsome woman he had married then
Told him he'd be a father in the spring.
His joy could not be measured. When a friend
Joked that it was just like his books (a string
Of such remarks were made), he tried to laugh
It off, but when one day an ice cream truck
Began patrolling on his street, he half
Began to cry. "It's just coincidence,"
His mother cooed, but that just made him wince.

Terror Tuesday: The Thief's Confession

I've told no one these facts, but what occurred,
It felt so good I did not seek escape,
E'en as my flesh dissolved. Delight's the word
I'd use describing it. Though now I drape
My shapeless form on couches and must write
By dictating, how gladly I'd return
(If I but could), and no, I would not fight
To save myself. The reek, the rapid burn
Of its miasma have a strange allure
I long for even now, though I know well
Its consequence. The treasure is secure
While guarded by that creature! I'll not tell
Where it is found; the danger is too great.
No more adventurers should share this fate.

Terror Tuesday: Our Hidden Partners

It's time you learned the truth of how things work.
But brace yourself; you're going to find it gross.
You know how you sometimes have "hypnic jerks"?
They're not what you think, man, not even close.
Here, put these on. I know they're kind of dumb,
But what you see through them will blow your mind.
Look at your thigh. Right there, where it feels numb?
Chill out. It's always been there, in some kind
Of symbiosis. There's one on your back,
And in your ear, and halfway up your -- but
That's not the thing. It's laying eggs. Keep track!
The eggs then hatch, way deep inside your gut
And burst out when you're sleeping. No, there ain't
A thing that we can -- oh, another faint.