Creeptober 2020 Writing Challenge Day 29: Scorpion

“Scorpion”

“Whatever you do, don’t swallow the scorpion,” he said as he handed Alessandra the bottle.

“Yeah, ok,” Alessandra replied sarcastically as she took the bottle from his hand. She wasn’t new to this; she had downed her fair share of tequila before, many with worms, and quite frankly she didn’t appreciate the assumption that she wouldn’t know better. She had sought this particular seller out after reading many stories online about how this particular brand of tequila was almost absinthe-like in its effect. It went down smooth, tasted great in margaritas, but after a few shots of it could produce hallucinations. Tired of the usual drunken nights and hungover mornings, Alessandra wanted something special for her birthday this year.

“No, I’m serious. Please be careful, don’t ever drink straight from the bottle, and please, do not swallow the scorpion. Don’t even remove it from the bottle,” he said the last part in a whisper.

“Fine,” Alessandra responded as she begrudgingly handed over the bills—three hundreds—and proceeded on her way. “This better have been worth it,” she mumbled under her breath as she drove home.

“Wow… looks legit,” her friend Bianca stared at the bottle she proudly placed down on the dining room table.

“It better be, after what I paid for it,” Alessandra replied. “So, shall we pregame a bit before heading out tonight?”

“Hell yeah,” Bianca replied as she scanned through her phone. “Lemme text the others to see if they want to get in on it.”

---

Alessandra, Bianca and three of their friends—Nora, Brandon, and Renee—danced around Alessandra and Bianca’s tiny living room to the Monster Mash and other classic Halloween hits. They were all decked out for the costume ball, a night they were guaranteed to forget, lost in a sea of alcohol and bad decisions. But, for now, it was just a group of best friends having the most pure pre-Halloween fun, dancing around like kids in their costumes.

“Ok, ghouls, whose ready to have some REAL fun?” Alessandra said, holding the bottle of tequila in her hand as she danced seductively in her vampire costume.

“Ohhh snap—you actually got it?!” Brandon cheered as he grabbed the bottle from her.

“I’ll grab some shot glasses!” Bianca exclaimed as she skipped into the kitchen.

“How much did this cost you?” Renee inquired, studying the bottle over Brandon’s shoulder.

“A witch never reveals her spells,” Alessandra replied, grabbing the bottle out of Brandon’s hands.

“But you’re a vampire,” Brandon responded as Bianca handed him a shot glass.

"To Alessandra!” Bianca cheered as she clumsily poured into each of their glasses.

“And to Halloween!” Alessandra replied.

They all raised their glasses and did a shot.

“Not bad,” Brandon said, sucking into a lime.

“Smooth,” Renee chimed in.

“Ok, so when does the good stuff happen,” Nora inquired.

“I’d say a few more shots down the line!” Alessandra laughed, as she poured a few more shots out.

---

After another hour of drinking and dancing, the crew was getting tired. If they didn’t leave soon, they’d certainly be too drunk and sloppy to make their way to the costume ball.

“Ok, we should get movin,” Bianca slurred.

“But wait—there’s still a little bit in the bottle left!” Alessandra held the bottle up to the light for everyone to see. There were just a few drops of tequila left, barely covering the scorpion.

“Oh wait! We didn’t do the thing!!” Brandon said, running toward the light switch on the wall.

“Oh man, I almost forgot—do you think it will work with so little left in the bottle?” Nora asked.

“Worth trying,” Brandon said as he flicked the switch.

Everyone stared in awe at the bottle, as the scorpion glowed in the darkness.

“Rad!” Renee cheered.

Brandon flicked the light back on and everyone was even more hyped—almost as if the glow of the scorpion re-energized them.

“Still no hallucinations though,” Bianca said in a somber tone.

“Ah well—cheers to 30!” Alessandra said as she downed the rest of the tequila from the bottle.

“Uh, should you be doing that?” Bianca replied.

“It’s my birthday, and I’m a Scorpio, bitch I can do whatever I want!” Alessandra replied, visibly drunk. In one swift movement she smashed the bottle off the side of the sink so the shards of glass went down the drain. She carefully picked up the scorpion with her fingers and placed it on her tongue.

“N-no, I don’t think you should do that. Remember what the guy said?” Bianca leapt forward, trying to stop her best friend.

“Screw him!” Alessandra slurred with her mouth open and her tongue still sticking out.

Everyone stared in disbelief at what happened next: as Alessandra danced with her tongue out, the scorpion rattled, coming to life. Alessandra had no time to react—everyone saw the fear in her eyes when she realized what was happening, but she was too drunk to think quickly—the scorpion’s claws clamped down on her tongue. Alessandra screamed in pain as the scorpion held onto her tongue. Then, as if she lost all control of her body, the scorpion grew stronger and began to lead her around by her tongue, smashing her body into everything in sight, leaving a trail of smashed glasses, broken cabinets, and blood in its wake. One-by-one everyone screamed and passed out from the horrific sight.

---

Bianca awoke the next morning on the floor of her living room, still in her fairy princess costume. She surveyed the scene around her and noticed all of her friends splayed across the floor in a similar fashion. She started to laugh, which woke up the rest of her friends. Everyone stretched and squirmed as they woke up. For all they drank last night, Bianca felt surprisingly spry.

“I guess it worked, huh?” She said, sitting up.

“That was INSANE—did you guys all see the same thing I saw?” Brandon responded with a yawn.

“Yeah, it was kind of frightening, not gonna lie,” Renee replied. “I think that’s one tequila I’m fine with NEVER having again.”

“Me too, but I actually don’t feel that terrible this morning, how about you?” Nora inquired.

Everyone concurred as they all shook themselves off and stood up.

“I wonder how the birthday girl is doing today?” Brandon asked.

“Yeah, where is she?” Renee chimed in.

“I’ll go check,” Bianca replied. “Knowing her, she’s probably out for a morning jog. She’s like, bionic.” Bianca made her way into the kitchen to see if her friend left a note.

Everyone jumped when they heard Bianca screamed. They ran to her side to survey the scene in front of them: Alessandra was splayed out on the floor, covered in blood and shards of glass, the cabinets and furniture completely destroyed. Somehow, the bottle of tequila was completely in tact, and full again, on the floor next to Alessandra’s body.

But the scorpion was gone.

Creeptober 2020 Writing Challenge Day 28: Conspiracy Theory

“Conspiracy Theory”

“Did you hear about this new trend going around with kids online? It’s called “I Know a Game.” Have you heard this? Apparently, these kids are messaging each other to play a game, and then the next thing you know they just up and disappear. Just go missing. Parents, I’m telling you, watch what your kids are doing on the Internet.”

Nina shook her head and turned the radio station off. These conspiracy theory-peddlers masquerading as pundits did nothing but drive her blood pressure up, yet she constantly found herself tuning in when she had to go on long drives. She wasn’t one for the socio-political commentary, but she had a soft spot for alien encounter stories. As much of a skeptic as she was in life, part of her wished that, just once in her life, she could experience something otherworldly. Something that couldn’t easily be explained away. Something to break up the routine.

She glanced at her GPS, she still had another four hours left in her travels. When she first took this job at the new startup, Nina was hoping that it would give her the kick in the pants she needed to change her lifestyle. Unlike her last dead-end job, which kept her going into a call center every day from 9:00 - 5:00, then spending all of her free time miserable and dreading going back to work, this one actually offered her the opportunity to travel. Excited by this prospect (and the help of a bump in salary), Nina jumped at the chance. And so she took a position in the research department of a new soft drink company, Koola Kola.

What Nina didn’t realize, however, was that “travel” wasn’t nearly as luxurious as it sounded. It wasn’t first-class flights to exotic locales on all-expenses-paid business trips. It wasn’t long, scenic drives on the company dime with stopovers in five-star hotels. It was just a lot of driving in her sedan, burning her own pockets for gas money that she would have to wait until the end of the month to get reimbursed for, to some of the most boring and sometimes downright seedy destinations. It was a lot of hours by herself in her car, sometimes springing for a quick stay at whatever motel was nearby, or sometimes driving all the way there and back in one night just to get it over with.

And, moreover, Nina didn’t exactly know why she was taking these trips. Her job was at a research company and seemed innocuous enough; all of her travel was dropping off materials to labs and potential business partners. It usually was just a few file folders or a banker’s box worth of items—something that a company with as much startup capital as hers should be able to just ship with insurance. But she didn’t ask too many questions or protest too much—getting that time on the road was still a diversion. On her best days, she’d spend the night at a bed and breakfast and find a cozy coffee shop or breakfast nook to fuel up in the morning. It was in those moments she could engage in some good people watching, writing down bits of conversations she’d hear, gathering material for the book of essays she swore she’d write someday.

So aside from audiobooks and podcasts, conspiracy theory radio shows became a source of entertainment for her time alone. It allowed her to escape, if even for only an hour or two here and there, into the unknown. It allowed her to play with the idea that there could be other people out there, watching us from afar. She could get lost in worlds where people had nefarious motives and industries were using people as guinea pigs, all extreme scenarios she didn’t buy for a second—but it added the appropriate dosage of fiction into an otherwise boring reality.

As Nina scanned through her phone, trying to find a good true crime or paranormal podcast to start, she looked up just in time to notice a massive antlered animal jump in front of her car and sprint into the woods, causing her to abruptly swerve to the side of the road. Once she caught her breath and allowed her heart rate to slow back down to normal, she got out of the car to observe the damage, if any, that was done. Staring down the front of her car, it looked as though there were a few scuff marks and some dents to her fender, nothing too tragic. She took some pictures, hoping she could write it off or get some cosmetic repairs done courtesy of Koola Kola.

Whatever it was that hit her car, though, couldn’t have escaped completely unscathed. It moved so fast, though, it was like it wasn’t hit at all. She looked deeper into the woods and noticed that it was still standing there, staring back at her. She only caught a quick glimpse and noticed it didn’t seem to be hurt or bleeding before quickly jumping back into her car—she didn’t know what it was or why it was staring, and she wasn’t willing to find out. The weirdest part that it didn’t look like any moose or deer she had ever seen before. She could have sworn it had the face of a rabbit.

Nina tried to calm her nerves as she started her car again. She didn’t want to lose too much more time, this was a trip she was hoping she could do in one night. That’s when she realized something—unlike her usual trips, this one had her transporting more precious cargo than the usual file folders.

“Shoot! The box,” Nina got out of her car again and popped open her trunk. Unfortunately, she was right. The box she was transporting, a medium-sized, square, briefcase-style box with a number of intricate locks, had been knocked over on its side. It didn’t appear to be damaged but had definitely been shaken up in the turmoil. Nina closed her eyes and hoped this wasn’t one of the only batches of a new soft drink that her company was concocting. She hovered her thumb over her manager’s number on her phone, bracing herself to reveal the bad news to him. But something inside her told her to say nothing, and instead break the cardinal rule she had been given on each and every one of these trips:

Whatever you do, don’t open the cargo. It’s completely confidential and can only be opened by its intended recipients.

Surely, in this situation, they’d understand. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She grabbed a pair of rubber gloves and placed them on, then pulled a bobby pin out of an emergency makeup bag she kept in her car, and got to cracking open the locks. Immediately she gasped as the smell hit her. Whatever this drink was, she could tell it was already going to fail on a mass-market level with a scent like this. She cracked open the last lock and held her breath.

Inside the box sat what appeared to be a human brain.

Nina slammed the box shut and dry-heaved. She carefully locked it and examined it to make sure there were no visible signs of tampering. She got back in the driver’s seat and steadied her hands on the wheel. Carefully, she pulled back onto the road, noticing the piercing red, laser-like eyes of the animal still staring at her from the distance. She couldn’t understand why a soft drink company would have her transporting a human brain to an unspecific location at night. She didn’t know just what else she had transported in her travels, either.

She just knew that she had to say nothing about what she saw. This never happened, and she wouldn’t ask any questions. She would drop the box off at its intended location, and turn around and head home. There would be no stopovers tonight.

Then, first thing tomorrow morning, she was going to find a new job. A desk job somewhere. Something delightfully boring.

Creeptober 2020 Writing Challenge Day 26: Folie à Deux

“Folie à Deux”

IKAG

Bailey stared blankly at the letters on her screen. She racked her brain to try and figure out what they could possibly be an acronym for, but she was coming up with nothing.

???

She responded back. The three dots indicating that Taylor was typing her response seemed to go on forever.

I know a game

She had heard rumors of that phrase floating around before, warnings given by overly cautious parent groups extolling the horrors of the “Dark Web.” But until now, Bailey had never encountered anyone actually prompting her with IKAG online. She did a quick search on Reddit to educate herself, just a primer so she’d know what she was getting into, but the only thread on the topic had been shut down. Not wanting to look like a loser, Bailey tried to play it cool and typed what she vaguely remembered the appropriate response to be.

Let’s play.

She shook her head as she hit send. That didn’t seem right but, to her pleasant surprise, Taylor proceeded without acknowledging her guffaw.

Ever hear of foley a-doo?

Bailey had no clue what Taylor was talking about, before she good hit enter on the Google search bar, Taylor continued.

That’s the game we’re going to play. R U ready?

Like she had an option. Bailey reluctantly typed K.

Here’s how it works: you’re going to do everything I say.

Bailey again hesitantly typed K.

But here’s the catch: I’m not going to actually tell you to do anything. I’m going to only suggest some things…

Bailey again stared blankly at her screen before responding.

Like, hypnotize me?

…

No, not exactly…

She awaited further instructions from Taylor, but none ever came. Instead they carried on with their conversation like nothing had happened at all.

---

“Bailey! Come on, you’re going to be late for school.” Bailey’s mom called to her from downstairs. Once again, Bailey had spent too many hours online and didn’t get to bed until far too late. Despite their long conversation, she never actually got to play Taylor’s game, which was probably for the best. As she dutifully got herself out of bed and ready for another boring day at school, she couldn’t help but recall a few of the things Taylor said during their conversation.

School’s such a waste of time. The only reason our parents send us there is to keep us out of their hair.

Bailey couldn’t help but agree with that. Lately it seemed like she was stuck on repeat, going into school every day, not learning anything new, and then going home to spend hours on homework from which she gained nothing.

What do our parents even do all day?

Bailey knew what her dad did, he was a lawyer, but as for her mom? No clue—she was a “homemaker,” yet the house looked the same every day. She seemingly didn’t do anything outside of cooking and cleaning yet she was always all to eager to ship Bailey off for the day. Maybe she really just didn’t want her around. Bailey was feeling more and more like that was the case with everyone in her life.

Sometimes I think our parents think we’re just a thorn in their sides.

Her dad had been pulling a lot of hours at work and whenever he’d get home he was usually too exhausted to do anything more than pour himself a glass of scotch and pass out in his recliner in front of the TV. It had been ages since they had all done anything together as a family, and the time spent at home was mostly apart, each member to themselves. Bailey felt like anything she asked of her parents came as an annoyance to them, so she’d mostly just spend time in her room, on her computer.

I wonder if they’d even notice if we weren’t there.

Bailey made her way downstairs and noticed her mom drinking coffee in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone.

“I don’t feel like having breakfast today,” Bailey called out to her.

Without looking up from her phone, Bailey’s mom responded:

“Fine, but don’t complain if dinner’s not ready yet when you come home and you’re starving.”

Bailey continued outside, her dad had already left for work without saying goodbye. He used to at least kiss her on the head while she was still asleep. She knew he stopped because, even though he thought she was asleep, she’d always wake up from the sound of his clumsy footsteps and keep her eyes closed while he kissed her forehead. He hadn’t done that in months.

I wonder if they’d notice if we didn’t come home from school on time.

Bailey walked over to the bus stop, as usual she was the only one there.

I wonder if they’d notice if we disappeared entirely.

She checked her watch, the bus should be here any minute.

You should come and hang out with me. I’d bet we have so much fun together in person. Do you live near the train? My house is right near the Patterson stop.

Bailey kept walking, past the bus stop. Across the street. Down the road. The train station wasn’t too far. Her lunch money should cover the cost of a ticket.

Don’t tell them, they’ll never even know.

And it’s true, they didn’t. They never did find out where it was Bailey was headed that day. Nor did they ever see her again.

Creeptober 2020 Writing Challenge Day 25: Chants

“Chants”

The DJ was gone but the music played on—how was this possible? It didn’t seem to be coming from the speakers at all. That’s when it hit me: the music was coming from the people. It wasn’t a recognizable song or even any sort of steady beat. It was eerie, dissonant.

They were chanting.

I couldn’t make out the words but it was clear they were chanting—how could this be? They had no faces and therefore had no mouths. But the chants were growing louder, emanating from them as if they were coming up from their very souls. Did these creatures even have souls?

That was when something caught my eye: I wasn’t alone.

Obviously, I was surrounded by these other-worldly beings, but there appeared to be another person just across the floor, another human, also surrounded. Unlike me, they were swallowing her whole—moving in closer and closer and grabbing her. Her body went limp and as she fell to the floor I made my move.

I lept past the surrounders, almost as if I were leaping through them, and made a beeline to the nearly lifeless body on the floor. The chanting continued but they did nothing to stop me. I held her body in my hands and tried my hardest to wake her up. I gently lifted her head back so it wouldn’t slouch forward and, in doing so, it seemed as though they all took a giant step back, the two groups forming into one large circle.

I could finally make out the chanting, they just kept repeating the words “not enough, not enough, not enough,” over and over again.

And then, for the first time, I got a good look at her face.

It’s a chilling experience to stare into another’s eyes and see your own.

It wasn’t a reflection, it wasn’t a mirage, it wasn’t an out-of-body experience. She and I were one.

I held her close and whispered in her ear,

“Bodies in a circle. Dark hoods. An empty DJ booth. Broken speakers. A dusty floor.”

She started to move.

“Chills through the sweat. This cold, dusty floor under our feet. This hair tie loosening in our hair. Our socks getting damp.”

She sat upright.

“Their chanting getting lower. The rumbles of our tummies. The squeak of their shoes.”

She looked at me. For the first time, she really looked away.

“The smell of asphalt. The smell of sweat.”

She cracked a wary smile.

“The chalky taste of a dry mouth.”

She stood up.

And just like that, we were one, and they were all gone.

I looked around at my surroundings—the dance-club was gone almost as if it were never really there. I was in my bathroom, and I was alone.

I was far from okay, but, once again, I survived.

Creeptober 2020 Writing Challenge Day 22: Bloody Hammer

“Bloody Hammer”

FIREFIGHTERS RESPONDED TO A FIVE-ALARM FIRE ON PARKLAND CIRCLE FRIDAY NIGHT. THERE WAS ONLY ONE PERSON PRESENT AT THE TIME OF THE FIRE, WHO DID NOT SURVIVE THE BLAZE. THE VICTIM IS BELIEVED TO BE A TWENTY-SIX-YEAR-OLD WOMAN.

“God, that’s so sad,” Jenna said as she clutched the remote to her chest. She, too, was a 26-year-old woman at home alone on a Friday night, with only the news to keep her company.

THERE’S BEEN NO DEFINITE INDICATOR OF WHAT MAY HAVE CAUSED THE FIRE, IT IS THOUGHT THAT IT MAY HAVE COME FROM A CANDLE THAT HAD BEEN KNOCKED OVER WHILE THE WOMAN SLEPT.

Jenna eyed her own candles on the end table next to her couch. She hastily got up and blew them out, so the only illumination in the living room came from the television. Jenna hated being home alone under normal circumstances, but being home alone during a cold, autumn night in a new house she was still only just getting used to was a different kind of spooky. She begged Jason to bail out on his business trip, but the cost of moving and updating the house to their standards meant that Jason had to take any and every opportunity work offered, just so they could hopefully recoup any of those costs.

They were able to purchase their new home at well below market value, which they soon found out was due to the condition of the inside. The house previously belonged to a disturbed individual with a hoarding problem; the walls and flooring were chewed apart by rats and animals, the pipes had completely rusted over, and the carpeting that survived was vomit-inducing. Because of the work that needed to be done, Jenna and Jason were able to buy their first home together as a married couple outright with what they had saved, and worked overtime at their jobs, and took out loans to have the insides updated and modernized to their liking.

Jason thought that, after all the work and money that had been put into the house, the least Jenna could do was enjoy it by herself for one weekend. Jenna tried to get a few girlfriends over to spend the night, but the guest rooms hadn’t yet been set up and she didn’t want to spoil the “big reveal” before the house was 100% guest-ready. So Jenna tried her best to get comfortable in her surroundings, but every creak or scratch or thump—the hazards that come with an old house, no matter how updated—made her jump out of her skin.

But it was the shuffling noise that upset her the most.

It wasn’t loud. It was muffled, and it didn’t quite sound like footsteps, but it definitely sounded like something was in motion. And it was coming from the attic.

“I don’t know what it is, but there is definitely something going on upstairs,” Jenna said in a panicked phone call to Jason the first time she heard it.

“There’s nothing up there, babe, I promise. Here, why don’t you go up there and Facetime me the whole time?” Jason replied, thinking he was being helpful.

“Like Hell I will!” Jenna exclaimed. If she was anxious about being in her LIVING ROOM alone, what in the world made him think she’d be brave enough to go up to the attic?

“I’m just worried that there are rats,” Jenna said, nervously biting her nails.

“Impossible,” Jason responded, “We had the exterminator fumigate TWICE before we moved in. And any and every possible crack in the framework has been sealed. Remember, he said he’d be shocked if a moth got in.”

Jenna knew that was all true, and she admitted that she was probably projecting her fears, but the sounds just felt so real. She also didn’t want to admit that maybe it was a bad idea to buy a house so quickly that needed so much work, no matter how much, aesthetically, it looked like the home she had dreamed of owning since she was a small child. She’d get past this nervous period, she just needed to make it through tonight. One night alone in the new house and she’d feel like she conquered the world. But now, in the dark on the couch, the shuffling started up again.

“Screw it,” Jenna said and rose to her feet.

She was going up to the attic.

---

Darla never wanted to leave her home. She loved it so much. When her neighbors finally called the cops she knew her time was up. First, it started as a “wellness check,” then they came for what she loved most, her cats. She knew there was no way she’d be able to stay and live there—so she did the only thing that made sense.

She hid.

She knew the home inside and out, every nook, every cranny. Even despite the mess, she could find the secret hiding places she had all over since childhood. The construction crew was none the wiser of her crawl space up there, but it was that exterminator who came a little too close to finding her out. She thought for sure she’d have to use her weapon against him, but without her cats to finish the job she was without a solid plan of action. So she let him go. She had no intention of racking up a body count, she would only defend herself against those who did harm first.

She wasn’t sure to make of the new couple that moved in. She didn’t like that they changed everything about her home. She didn’t think they deserved it.

And she especially hated that the woman was a psychiatrist.

All those types of people ever did was tell her that she was wrong, that she was weird, that she needed to change her ways. The last one who lived with her overstepped his boundaries one too many times—she could already sense this was going to happen with these two. She watched them carefully from the tiniest sliver in the floorboards, studying their movements, their routines, making sure the one rat she was able to save didn’t slip past her and give them a reason to call the exterminator again.

Darla pressed her face closer to the floorboard—where had the woman gone? She had barely moved from the couch all day. At the sound of the door opening to the attic, Darla jumped and her rat slithered out from under her and made its way outside. She knew the rat was in trouble. She knew she was in trouble. She was going to have to get rid of yet another psychiatrist intruding in her space.

---

Jenna screamed bloody murder at the sight of the rat lunging toward her as she climbed up the steps into the attic. She sat at the top of the steps, clutching her chest and catching her breath. Why the Hell had they paid so much money to hire an exterminator if he couldn’t even do the one thing he was asked? Jenna was as angry as she was nervous, but at least was happy to know what exactly was making so much noise up there. Sure, she'd probably have to spend the night in a motel while she waited for the exterminator to come yet again, but at least the worst of it was over.

She thought that, at least, until she turned to make her way back downstairs to find a crazed woman running at her full speed wielding a hammer. Jenna didn’t think. She had barely enough time to react. In a flash, it was all over.

---

She carefully cleaned the blood-soaked hammer and, after a quick Google search, took the appropriate steps to wipe it of any fingerprints, should anyone come across it. She made her way back up to the attic and examined the crawl space, pausing to give some respect to how well-concealed something that could hide a body could be. She had to give props to good work done.

The rat came back and brushed up against her foot, almost as if it was signaling to her that it was proud of her, as strange as that may sound. The sight of it gave her an idea, as she glanced back and forth between its sharp teeth and the body in the crawl space.

“I know the exterminator said everything was taken care of, Jason,” Jenna said calmly over the phone staring blankly at the bloodied body in front of her, “but for my peace of mind, would you be terribly upset if I got a cat?”