The Bat

Ann and her roommate Irene liked to have picnics. Usually they just went out together, with their boyfriends, but this time they took along a couple from the University. Dave, and his girlfriend, Sandra, were spiritualists, and they made an interesting suggestion, to "spice up" the trip.

"I know one very old, abandoned cemetery," explained Sandra with a significant look. "It's near a town that's about 50 miles from the city. I heard an old man lives there, named Ronald Barks, and he knows the way to that cemetery. This is not an ordinary place. We can try and call some person from Beyond."

Ann's group did not believe in occult lore, but they were curious, and liked this idea.

***

It was a really small town, with about twenty houses and a few other buildings, standing close to each other along the river. Surrounded by forest, they looked as if they were afraid of something, and had tried to huddle together against an invisible, but deadly danger. The young people involuntarily grew quiet.

They parked at the gas station, and asked a dismal voiced worker about Ronald Barks. The man shuddered.

"The last house on the left side of the Main Street," he murmured, shaking his head. "But I don't recommend anyone go to him. He's crazy."

"Mr. Barks is a sorcerer!" retorted some lady of middle age.

"That old fox is just fooling people," cut in a truck driver. "Do you know, kids, how much that "genie" charges for his "magic"?"

"Any work should have a reward!" the lady could not calm down. "You are all too young to understand! He has been practicing magic longer than you've been living!"

"Give me a break!" the driver snorted. "No human could live for so long!"

"You're right!" the lady pursed her lips. "No human."

They continued to argue with each other, and the students left.

***

They neared the house of Ronald Barks and looked around with curiosity.

The entire town gave off a dejected impression, but this mossy house looked so gloomy that the students hesitated to go in. No one wanted to show fear, however, so they knocked on the door. They heard heavy shuffling steps, the door opened, and they cautiously entered the house when the old man gestured to them.

It was dark inside. The students could barely see the host, and followed him, keeping silent. A mixed smell of Oriental aromas and many years' dust made them dizzy.

They reached a room, and were surprised to see the host already sitting at the table. The students went closer, and quietly sat down.

Their skepticism returned when they saw all the stuff that mediums usually use to impress visitors. There were books with black covers, some ancient manuscripts, and rolls of parchment, candles, and even what looked like a human skull. Irene giggled, and shoved her finger into the empty eye-socket.

Frowning, Sandra nudged Irene with her elbow, and addressed Ronald: "Mr. Barks, we heard you know the way to the haunted cemetery. Could you tell us how we can reach there?"

The host attentively looked at them.

"It's a cursed place," he answered gratingly. "Aren't you afraid of putting your young lives against danger?"

Ann's group laughed, but Sandra and Dave did not even smile.

"We are ready to die," said Irene's boyfriend with an intentionally solemn voice. "But we have to see it!"

The students snorted, and exchanged glances, but their grins died instantly, when they heard the price that Ronald set for this information.

"You're kidding!" Ann mumbled, astonished.

"I can't prevent it if someone wants to commit suicide," Ronald Barks said calmly as he lit up his pipe. "But you have to prove that you are realize how serious this trip would be."

The young people moved aside, and whispered to each other. They took out all their cash, and combined their money. They hesitated, but they were intrigued and did not want to go back in the middle of a possible adventure.

Not turning a hair, Ronald Barks took the money, and told the students the way.

***

When they reached the cemetery the twilight had turned into darkness. It was a Friday night in May and the air was clear. No clouds were in the deep black sky, and the light of the full moon flooded the area. Moonlit gravestones seemed like doors with waiting guests behind. The students turned their tape-recorder to maximum loudness. They drank, and talked about contact with the dead.

Finally the students decided to act. They chose the place, sat all together making a circle, took each other's hands, and Dave and Sandra started to intone what they claimed were magic phrases.

Suddenly a low howl sounded in the distance. Dave and Sandra smiled with triumph. Ann gasped: "Oh, it's started working!" She tried to joke further, but a deep sense of unease stopped her.

A bat noiselessly flew near them, and Sandra shuddered. "I bet it's a vampire!", she murmured.

"Yeah," uttered Irene's boyfriend with a scary voice. "He's looking for human blood!"

The students burst out laughing, but Ann saw Sandra and Dave were really terrified. Though they were smiling moments ago, the thoughts about vampires horrified them. Ann tried to drive them back to reality.

"The only blood that such a bat could get," she started to explain. "Is the blood that's inside mosquitoes. Mosquitoes suck human blood, bats eat mosquitoes, so bats get human blood!"

"I mean real vampires!" Dave said as he took another drink. The students were already drunk and wanted to discuss things.

After a few more beers they were ready to believe in anything. Hugging each other, Dave and Sandra sang numerous hymns and Ann's group danced and sang also.

Alcohol worked, awaking deep instincts and fears. Ann looked around. It seemed to her that all the vampires in the world surrounded them and were just waiting for them to fall asleep.

Probably, Irene had the same dreadful thoughts, as she embraced her boyfriend like a drowning person snatches a life buoy. Ann flung herself on to her boyfriend. They hugged each other, and all her fright melted.

***

...Ann opened her eyes. She felt like there was a bomb bursting in her head. The girl moaned, and crept out of bed. Keeping her eyes closed, she reached the bathroom. She heard someone turn on the water, and help her get into the shower.

Finally Ann opened her eyes; her headache was almost gone. Irene was next to her in the stall. She looked terrible, and Ann could imagine her own face.

"We shouldn't get loaded like that." they said at once, or maybe just thought the same thought.

"What time it is?" Ann wheezed.

"3:20 a.m."

Ann shook her head, and went back into the room. She looked around, and realized that they were in a motel.

"How did we get here?" wondered Ann. "Who drove the car?"

"Him!" their boyfriends pointed at each other. They exchanged surprised glances.

"Not me!" they exclaimed at once.

"I was driving." Irene said with effort.

"Gosh!" Sandra barely sat up. "Dave, how..." she stopped short.

"Where is he?" she addressed Ann's group. Everybody gasped, realizing that they left Dave there, in the cemetery.

"Vampires are going to kill him!" screamed Sandra and burst into tears.

"Calm down!" the students hastily started to dress. Sober, they did not believe in occult balderdash, but they could imagine how Dave would feel, awake in the middle of the night, alone in the abandoned cemetery, without a car, without a phone, 20 miles from the nearest town.

***

When they reached the cemetery dawn was breaking, and they found Dave very quickly. He was lying on the ground without any signs of life, while a bat flew around above him.

Squealing, Sandra rushed to her boyfriend, and the animal vanished from their view. Dave sat up. He was alive, but drunk as a skunk.

Ann saw a cloud of mosquitoes around Dave, and she thought that was the reason why the bat stayed near Dave. The students helped him up and into to the car and left the cemetery.

***

The bat clung to its place under the roof of a crypt. For a long time the creature had not had such a feast on easy prey. The bat was very happy. It would wait for the next visitors. They will come for sure. They always come.

The Camel

He started suspecting something about a month ago, when the new party came here.

The usual expedition, the usual excavations. Mike and Brian's job was to guard the stuff that these scientists had found. But at that time they had a new driver, Fernard. In the beginning nobody knew he was homosexual.

Mike and Brian never hid their relationship. The young men lived together as spouses and stood up for each other if someone tried to make fun of them.

Mike found out about Fernard first.

"You know, Brian," he said as he was brushing his teeth. "Fernard's gay."

The youth gazed at his partner: "How do you know?" He could usually recognize another homosexual, but in this case with Fernard he was not sure.

"He said it himself." Mike washed his face. "But I told him about you. That's all."

That dialog left an unpleasant after taste in Brian's soul. He looked at the naked lithe back of his partner. Despite his tall height, sturdy Brian was shorter than the thin, athletic Mike, and Brian had a little complex about that. And the thought that someone else would touch his friend made Brian insane.

Sensitive, Mike felt something was wrong, and he turned to his partner.

"Brian," he said with tender reproach. "Don't be foolish. I need no one except you."

But this phrase did not appease Brian's jealousy.

He started to spy on his friend. Mike noticed it, and twice a hot-tempered Brian made awful scenes. But all the time they made up with each other, their love was strong, it was a real, deep feeling. They were soul mates, not just sexual partners.

***

He did not want to leave without Mike. But the chief of the party ordered it, and Brian did not want to look stupid or ridiculous.

Before he got into the helicopter, Brian saw Fernard. The driver stood next to Mike, and Brian rushed back and grabbed Fernard.

"If you ever come close to Mike," Brian growled at Fernard's face. "I'll kill you both!"

Scared, the driver did not reply.

"Hah!" Brian heard from aside. "Our fags are going to fight!" He heard laughter, blushed and released Fernard.

Not looking around, Brian went to the helicopter.

***

Brian was absent for just few days. When he went back, Mike was not there waiting for him.

Going crazy with jealousy and suspicion Brian checked his knife, and walked to their tent. Mike came out and quickly closed the shelter flap behind him, and turned to his partner with a smile.

Brian was sure Fernard was inside. Without a word he hit Mike in his belly with his knife, and opened the tent.

His eyes were searching around, and suddenly stopped on the bed. He saw a Grundig Avantgarde, an electric shaver, on the blanket. Brian had dreamed about owing it for so long, but it was too expensive. Somehow Mike had bought it; he had planned to surprise his partner with it, but Brian had come back before he could wrap it.

Brian gasped and flung himself back at Mike. His partner was sitting on the floor. He was dying, and they both understood that.

"It's okay, Brian... It's my fault!" Mike said . "I was a fool. I forgot... Give me that shiv! I'll pretend suicide. I love you, Brian... I don't want any trouble for you..."

Brian did not reply. He was unable to make a sound. 'Trouble!' No execution would decrease his pain. No death would be enough punishment. Even hellish sufferings... But that thought put a new idea into Brian's mind. He ran outside.

***

Dr. Lee was checking his notes when the guard burst into his tent. Dr. Lee gazed at him and was horrified. That guard looked insane. Oh, God! He was crazy like the last psycho.

"Where is the amulet to call the Devil?" he shouted. The archeologists had found a very rare amulet. Probably that guy heard their speculation about how the amulet had been used in Devil worship thousands of years ago.

Dr. Lee took it out.

"Take the book with the texts!"

Dr. Lee took the book that they found next to the amulet.

"Come with me! You'll read this!"

Dr. Lee dared not to refuse.

***

When they went into the tent Dr.Lee gasped. He saw Mike covered with blood, dying or already dead, and the scientist understood that Brian had done it. Dr.Lee felt despair, thinking he would be next.

"Let's do it!" Brian took the archeologist on the point of his gun. He heard people gathering outside the tent. "If anyone tries to come inside," he shouted. "I'll kill you at once!"

Dr.Lee's hands were trembling while he drew the magic symbols on the floor.

Brian carefully put Mike in the middle of these pictures, and knelt next to him. Dr.Lee spelled out the phrases from the book, and Brian repeated the words.

Nothing happened. Mike did not move.

"Brian," the scientist started timidly. "It's just a legend. A tale. I'm really sorry."

The ground shook.

It was getting dark, and the sudden light rushing from under the floor blinded the men for a second. The bright yellow shining flowed through the lines of the pictures like through chinks, flooding the tent with bizarre colors.

The crowd outside became silent. Brian slowly lifted his head.

Suddenly someone entered, and Brian tossed his gun up, but it was a camel, and the men stared at the animal in wonder.

"What do you want?" the creature uttered unexpectedly.

Its monstrously powerful voice sounded not only in the ears, but also in their minds. Dr.Lee fell, losing consciousness.

Unlimited horror seized the guard, but he hugged the body of Mike, and decided to at least die next to him.

"Make Mike alive again!" murmured Brian.

"What will I have as payment?" The big brown eyes of the camel pierced deep into the man's soul.

"I'll do anything!" Brian was shaken under such gaze. "I want to be with him, no matter, on Earth or in Hell!"

"I have to ask him. Mike?"

Suddenly Mike opened his eyes, and embraced his partner. "I'll be with you, Brian. The price doesn't matter."

"Deal!" The creature laughed. "But I can't do it here. Let's go!"

The camel verged upon the men, and knelt.

Holding Mike, Brian climbed up, and the animal galloped away.

***

When the people finally dared to go into the tent, they found Dr.Lee with his hair as white as snow. They immediately sent a rescue expedition to follow Brian, but this action was unsuccessful, and a sudden sandstorm finally vanished any hope to ever find the guards or their bodies.

The Cat

If something looks scary should we terminate it?

Victor's parents had been animal lovers. A lot of pets surrounded him from the first day of his life. His mother especially loved cats. Different colors, but most of them were short haired, and Victor liked them.

One black cat was his favorite. When he was lying in the bed, night or day, the cat came to him and lay by his side. It purred very loud and melodically, and Victor loved to pet and caress it and feel its small muscular body.

***

He was on his shift when the awful fire had happened. Both of his parents and almost the all animals died. His favorite cat was gone too.

However, some cats ran away, later he saw some of them in the local shelter. As a policeman, Victor often delivered street cats and lost dogs there, and he wanted to believe his pet survived that fire.

After the tragedy Victor became a monk, yet he still loved animals and dearly wanted to have at least one of them.

The cenobites were looking for a secluded place for their community and finally, it seemed that good luck smiled upon them. They found the information about a town through the Internet. Five years ago all citizens left this town suddenly, without explanation.

Patrick, the leader, and Victor checked the town out. The church in the town was still in good condition and all communications were easily set up, so the monks decided to move here.

But why did the residents leave? The friends did know that, so for the security reasons they all had firearms with them all the time, and preferred to stay in the same building, near the church.

It was 6:35 p.m. and Victor went for a little walk. He went slowly along the streets, as he had done many times in his town. Abandoned buildings looked strange and gloomy.

Suddenly a tiny black animal ran by a house. Victor noticed it, and sighed, recalling his pet. Although he knew how careful any cats, especially street cats were, Victor automatically called it: "Here, kitty-kitty-kitty!" To his surprise, the cat came to him.

Of course, it was not his cat, it was a very young animal, about six or eight months old. Victor thought this was why it came to his call and allowed him to take it in his arms.

But when he came close to the church, the animal started to show worry and finally jumped out of his arms.

Victor did not want to force it to stay. He knew cats did not like new places. He went to the building and got a few pieces of chicken, then came back. The cat was still there. Victor fed it and smiled with pleasure, watching how the hungry animal was eating greedily.

Since that time the cat started to wait for him every evening and Victor was feeling happy. Another monk, Tracy, was an inveterate cameraman and recorded how Victor fed and patted the cat and played with it. But probably the film was defective, because instead of images of his new pet, there were just black shapeless spots.

Victor very much wanted that cat to lie in his bed, as he had in his town, however, the animal never came close to the building, where the cenobites now lived. And finally Victor asked Patrick, the leader, about permission to spend nights by himself in another house. Patrick did not see anything wrong with the idea and allowed it.

Victor chose the house near where he met the cat the first time.

That night he lay down on the bed in that house and called the cat.

The animal looked confused. It seemed it was concerned and hesitated. Once it even hissed at the monk, and Victor thought with worry, maybe it was sick.

But finally, the cat jumped onto the bed, curled itself up into a ball and started purring, and Victor smiled with happiness.

***

Patrick and Tracy slowly passed the house.

"I can't understand Victor," Tracy shrugged his shoulders. "How can he sleep here, alone, in a ghost town, with a black cat..."

The friends involuntarily looked at the building.

Strange, reddish light glowed from the bedroom window.

"My God!" Patrick gasped. "It's a fire!"

They ran into the house and burst into Victor's bedroom.

They stopped, they screamed with horror, and they then realized, why the citizens left this town, after such a monster took up residence here.

It, what bent over Victor, was not a cat, not a panther, not a woman, not a She-Devil, not a Sphinx. It was all of them at once.

Its tender girl face was turned to the monks. The glowing slanted eyes of the creature did not show any fear. Bright white fangs flashed in its mouth when it licked its lips. Swishing its long snake-like tail, the beast stretched its limbs, and the cenobites saw its huge claws.

The monks grabbed their guns and started shooting. Their bullets, made from church silver, should kill any creature whether from Earth or Hell.

Its screech made them deaf for a while. Victor sprang up, the monks stopped firing, and they were afraid to wound their friend.

Victor gasped, he stared at the creature, wriggling in the middle of the room.

"Why did you shoot it?" he asked, shocked.

The friends became confused. Really, why? It did not harm Victor, and probably would have not. But it looked so unusual... So scary... Yes, looked.

A light smoke rose from it and now only a motionless body of a small dead cat was lying on the floor.

Victor took it into his arms, hugged it and cried bitterly. The friends looked at him with compassion, but only animal lovers would be able to understand his grief.

The Cockroach

Jim Honickson hated cockroaches.

He periodically exterminated them in his own condo, but it was a many-floored apartment building and it is very difficult to keep your place clean of bugs if your neighbors don't care about their own. Sooner or later their pests will find a way into your home.

Jim was in the kitchen when he noticed a cockroach run from under the sink to hide next to the table leg. Honickson grabbed the bug spray and noticed with vexation the container was empty.

Keeping his eyes on the cockroach, Jim boiled some water and splashed it at the insect. The bug fled, seemingly unharmed, but only seemingly.

A gigantic scalding wave had rushed toward the cockroach, and, sensing its oncoming, the insect ran as fast as it could but the hot steam reached its right back leg. The intolerable pain forced the beetle left of the shelter that now appeared so unsafe.

Despite its instincts telling the insect not to go into the lit space, there was no choice, and the cockroach raced forward. Something huge and unrecognizable was thrust onto the floor next to the beetle; Honickson tried to kill the bug with a mop handle. The cockroach could only run for its life without stopping. Its badly scalded leg checked its usual speed and the next strike almost marked its end.

The cockroach reached the wall and rushed up.

"Damn you!" yelled Jim, repeatedly hitting at it with the mop. His unsuccessful hunt made the man mad.

Now the beetle was running along the ceiling. It was difficult even for the insect; its crawl slowed. Seeing this Honickson smiled, preparing the last strike that should smash the bug for sure.

He kept his eyes on only the cockroach, and when he stepped into the now cooled water on the floor he didn't notice anything was wrong until his feet slid.

Jim fell flat onto his back, and if anyone had been in the room they would have heard the cracking sound that came when the man hit his nape against the edge of the kitchen counter.

But there were no people around, and for the cockroach it did not matter.

The beetle lost contact with the ceiling and flew down, landing on the man's face between his lips and nose. There was no breathing here, but the insect could not be expected realize the meaning of that.

The legs of the cockroach caught up some scarlet fluid as it crossed the face, and the same red liquid was on the floor, but insects see colors in another way to humans.

Finally the cockroach reached the sink again.

It was dark and warm here, seemed safe, so the insect stopped and began washing itself. The stuff on its legs was edible, and the bug felt satisfied.

Not a bad place for living, thought the cockroach. When I finish my meal I should invite my relatives and friends.

And it did so.

The Dog

Pastor James was closing the doors of his greenhouses behind the church. From time to time he looked at his watch. Mary Noirson had not arrived yet and he was afraid he would miss her. Nevertheless the storm forced him to go outside and take care of his plants. An ice-cold, strong wind made the rain even worse.

When the pastor closed the last door, the rainwater was running like a river.

Suddenly he heard a low growling sound.

A huge black dog was looking at Father James. The eyes of the beast were glowing through streams of rain.

The pastor slowly crossed himself. The dog showed its long bright white fangs. It looked like a smile. A scornful smile.

Farther James got angry. He resolutely stepped toward the to the church, but the dog jumped towards at him and snapped its jaws just a few inches from the man.

The pastor recoiled. He had no weapon to protect himself. Very slowly Father James started to move around the greenhouse. He kept his eyes on the dog.

Suddenly his foot slipped. He threw up his hands, lost his balance and fell down into the a hole.

Only now Father James remembered this well that he asked to be dugfor yesterday. The pit was about fifteen feet deep and the rainwater had already filled it halfway. Almost choked, the pastor unsuccessfully tried to get out. The water and dirt mixed together, and he was not able to swim in the mire. He tried to climb up, but the walls were too steep and slippery.

He realized suddenly that, he was doomed to be buried alive in the mud.

Suddenly, an idea dawned upon him. Father James snatched a big cross that he was wearing and thrust it into the wall. The cross stuck firmly, and now he had a chance to hold on until someone would be able to help him out.

The dog above roared with disappointment.

***

Daniel was a monk, and a friend of Pastor James. Despite the awful weather, he was planning to meet him today.

Daniel was driving very carefully. The wipers were almost useless. And the monk was thinking that, driving under the sea would be easier than driving in such a rain.

He parked, cringed and got out the car.

He went to the door of the house and knocked.

No response.

He started getting worried and carefully open the door and called out to Pastor James. Nobody answered, and the monk entered inside.

He heard a sibilant sound and went to the kitchen. The teapot was boiling and almost all the water had evaporated.

Daniel turned the stove off and ran outside. He called Farther James. He heard a weak response. He ran to the sound.

"Look out!"

Daniel barely kept his feet. He saw the hole and gasped. He knelt and looked inside.

"The dog..." The pastor was panting.

"Later! Later!" Daniel took his jacket off. "Hold on!" He held one sleeve and put the jacket into the pit. Father James stretched out his hand and tried to grab the another sleeve.

Suddenly huge fangs thrust bit into Daniel's back. The monk did not expect the attack. He screamed and dropped the jacket.

The dog bit him again, but Daniel punched the beast in the nose, and the animal jumped aside. It roared with hate. Daniel smiled and took out his switchblade. "Oh, you are a bad dog! Come on! Show me what you got!"

The dog looked at him very attentively, however, it did not try to come any closer.

The monk took off his shirt. He watched the dog and started to put the shirt down into the pit.

"Please, hurry up!" exhausted, Father James begged. "I can't hold on any longer!"

The dog jumped at the monk. Daniel dodged the strike and smiled with triumph: he felt the pastor grab the sleeve.

The dog howled and attacked the man again. The monk hit the animal with the blade, but this time his action did not stop the beast. The huge jaws squeezed Daniel's body. The monk screeched yet did not drop the shirt.

Daniel again and again hit the dog with the knife with one hand and pulled Pastor James up with the another hand. The beast gnawed his shoulder and the unbearable pain drove Daniel insane, but his desire to save his friend helped him stay in control.

Suddenly the dog changed its tactics. Releasing its victim, it lunged at the pit. The monk was not able to prevent it. The fangs of the beast tore the shirt. And Daniel heard the scream of Pastor James and sound of a splash, as the priest fell down into the mire again.

The man and the animal continued their mortal fight.

"Brother!" the voice of Pastor James sounded with despair. "Give me absolution!"

Daniel had no time to answer, the dying beast made one last effort and clutched bit the man at in the groin. This time the intolerable pain caused Daniel to pass out.

***

He regained consciousness very quickly. The ice-cold rain helped.

The dead body of the dog was lying on top of Daniel. He pried open the jaws of the beast. The awful pain made the monk dizzy, yet all he could think about was Pastor James.

Daniel crawled to the pit and looked inside. Only a dead motionless hand clutching a cross was above the mud.

The monk looked long at it. He stared for a long time. Then moaning and sobbing, Daniel could barely drag himself to the building and call an ambulance.

And nobody ever figured out was it just a mad dog or a creature from Hell.

The Goat

Alcohol frequently makes people anxious, but often makes them courageous without any reason. The latter was the case with Alan Foisy.

Well, he drank eight beers in his favorite bar... or was it ten? He did not remember for sure.

He did not worry; the drive home should take just a few minutes and it was along a county road. At almost midnight; Foisy was sure he would not meet any other people or cars.

Yawning, he drove, barely staying in control. But finally he probably fell asleep, as the car veered off the road and went into the ditch Alan did not notice.

It could have been worse. The slope was not steep; the vehicle just stopped. Foisy had buckled up back at the bar, so only he slightly hit his forehead. He got out to check his situation, and realized at once that there was no way to return the car to the road without some aid.

Vexed, he sat on the grass next to his vehicle and started swearing and complaining about his fate. He damned the car, the road, the barman, and himself.

Soon, however, the fresh autumn air sobered Alan. Seeing his curses did not have any effect, he thought about how to get home. He had two ways: along the road it would take about forty minutes, but through the local cemetery his walking time would be cut in half, and, not hesitating, Foisy choose this plan. The doughy light of the full moon flooded the purlieus, and he was not afraid to get lost.

But, just when he had entered the graveyard, the moon, as ill luck would have it, hid behind a cloud, and the dusk became denser. Foisy trudged on the path, fighting the wish to just lie down and sleep. The chilly gusts of wind lashed the man, and he was sorry about leaving his car.

"I could sleep inside," he dreamed, walking as a somnambulist. He was making his way very carefully; he could not see a thing in the pitch-dark. A few times he bumped against some gravestones, and the pain drove away his dizziness. He felt dreary, as he would if he were the only living being in the Universe.

Suddenly the ground under his feet gave way, and Alan rolled headlong into the murkiness.

Shocked, he sat up, and looked around. As if mocking him, the moon now showed her face. Foisy saw that he was in a big deep pit with the vertical walls too steep to climb. It was an open grave, and had been prepared for tomorrow's funeral.

"Great!" Alan said with bitter sarcasm. "Just great! What am I gonna do now?"

He heard a sigh, like a reply. Foisy was stunned; he saw a pale figure whitening the other end of the pit. Growing cold, he slowly got his feet. As if in a trance, against his will, Alan stepped forward and stretched his arm out to this creature. His finger touched a cold fleece, and his blood curdled with terror, but, at the same time, like a suddenly solved riddle, Foisy understood it was just a goat, trapped in this pit with him.

Gladdened that he was not alone anymore, the man laughed and petted the animal. It sighed again, and Alan felt compassion.

"I'll help you out," he promised, scratching the goat's horns. "Hey-ay-ay!" he yelled as loud as he could. "Somebody? Hey!" He used all the strength of his lungs, but his long wailing call faded without any response. Keeping up a deep quiet, the goat stared at the man. Foisy did not even hear its breathing. The big slanted black eyes of the creature looked like eye-sockets of a scull; they did not blink, they glowed with the moonlight, and the man felt uneasy under such a gaze.

"Hey-ay-ay!" he shouted again. The creeps ran over his back, and fear sounded in his cry.

"Who's there?" Alan's ears caught a male voice from above and he sighed with relief.

"Buddy," Foisy called up. "Be so kind; drop me a line or something like that. It's not very comfortable down here."

Soon he saw an end of a rope fall inside the hole.

"If I get out," thought Alan. "What about the goat?" And he tied the animal first.

"Pull!" he said to the man above, and the rescuer started to lift the victim.

"Pull, pull," repeated Foisy, helping the animal up. Suddenly a terrified howl made his hair stand on end.

The bleating goat fell back into the pit. It scratched the man with its hoofs, and, screaming with pain, Alan mechanically punched the animal.

The goat jumped out of the hole, and Foisy hearkened to another wild cry. The person above ran away, and the goat as well, and only now Alan understood what had happened. The cemetery guard, or whoever he was, heard only a human voice, he did not notice the goat, and when the ashen horned head rose from the fresh grave...

Two hours later, when the police towed his car back on the road, Foisy repeated his apologizes to the man who he had scared half to death.

"It's okay," the guardian replied, sighing. "Stupid buck. Why did it keep silence?"

"Probably it was too tired." Alan shrugged his shoulders, and got into his car. Ten minutes later he was at home.

"Do you know the owner of the goat?" the policeman asked the supervisor of the cemetery.

"I've never heard what anyone around has a goat," slowly answered the keeper, shaking his head.

Pegasus

How badly do you want to be famous? What price are you ready to pay?

All his life, Allan Foisy had dreamed about writing a timeless, immortal poem that would make people cry and think for generations.

He was a teenager before he dared to show off his first poems. His teacher read them, thought silently for a while, then said, "I don't want discourage you, but it's seems that Pegasus has never visited you."

It was a sunny day, but the daylight dimmed for Allan. He ran home, hid himself in the attic and for a long time, he could only cry.

But soon the youth calmed down.

"If I'm not gifted," he thought, "then why is my desire to write so strong? All I need is more study and work."

And oh, how he tried!

He took writing courses. He attended all the writers' meetings that he could. He used Internet sites, and books for writers, and it seemed he started to be successful. A few magazines had published his poems, he got several prizes from some contests, and then, a collection of his poems was published as a book.

But all this was not enough for Allan.

'Big deal,' he thought looking at his book on a shelf in the bookshop. 'Just a few years from now, no one will even remember my poems. I'd sell my soul to a Devil just to find at least two, oh God, just two phrases, two lines that would resonate forever.'

Suddenly he noticed a book next to his. "For Inspired Writers and Poets" was the title, and Allan grabbed the book. It was wrapped in cellophane to prevent people from reading it in the shop, so Allan went to the cashier, and the clerk scanned the bar.

The register beeped loudly, rudely. The seller looked at the code and typed it in manually. No success. He called his supervisor.

"…by Dev Ilone#, let's see…" The manager checked his catalogue, and asked, surprised, "Where did you find it?"

"Here!" Allan pointed at the bookshelf.

"Okay," the manager said to the clerk. "It's probably because it's the last copy. Charge the same price as for other titles on this shelf."

Allan did not argue.

When he got home he started reading. The first part consisted of the usual advice, most of which Allan already knew and used, but the second part astonished him.

"But if you want to get real stuff," he read, not believing his eyes. "You should try this magic spell, and summon Pegasus. If you can hold him, you'll be famous."

"What the hell is this garbage?" Vexed, Allan threw the book away, and checked his mail.

"Dear Author," it read. He skimmed the standard cards with rejections from publishers. "Dear Writer, we're sorry…"

But the last letter struck him to the bottom of his heart.

"Dear Allan Foisy," he read. "We regret to inform you, that in light of the fact that no copies of your book have been sold for the trial period, we have to withdraw our offer, and cancel our contract."

The paper fell from Allan's weakened hands.

He heard a rustle, and looked at sound. The book was lying on the floor, and a draught had moved the pages.

Allan saw an illustration, showing Pegasus. The picture seemed three-dimensional, like a window to another world, and the winged horse appeared ready to gallop through it with its next leap.

Very slowly, Allan picked the book up.

"Aber! Glory! North and West!" Allan started reading the spell aloud.

The eyes of Pegasus flashed with yellow light.

Allan felt his hair stand on end, but he did not stop, and he would not go back.

"Morgon! Flat! Mortalla! Claf!"

Pegasus waved his wings. The cold wind lashed the man, or was it just a thrill of excitement?

Staring at the picture, Allan pronounced the entire spell, word-by-word, without stopping. His heart was pounding into his chest, and it echoed into his head, like a beating drum.

A powerful blow threw Allan down. A mighty neigh sounded like thunder, and the floor shook under the sturdy hooves of the magic stallion.

Allan sprang up. Not losing a second, not hesitating, he jumped onto the back of Pegasus, grabbed its mane, and together they shot up to Superlative World.

They fell into abyss of clauses and passages, sparkling like electric discharges. They flew thorough billions of sentences and phrases, shimmering like boundless fireworks.

The kaleidoscopic stream seemed endless, but suddenly Allan realized that he could not reach any of these words; it would be like trying to catch a rainbow with a butterfly net.

"Stop!" he shouted, and punched Pegasus. "Stay still, stupid animal!"

To his surprise, Pegasus did stop, and Allan saw they were in his home again.

"Okay," Allan said taking a breath. "I admit. I'm not gifted. I can't use this source."

"What do you want then?" Pegasus asked with a human voice, but nothing could surprise Allan anymore.

"I want to get two phrases." He was shaking with desperation. "Damn! Just two short sentences! Give them to me! But these words have to be immortal! They have to sound like new to all generations of people to the end of the history of mankind! Give them to me - and I will let you go."

"What's it?" Pegasus guffawed. "That's all what you want? I'll give you them!"

Allan fell from the Pegasus, a pen appeared in his hand, and he wrote down two lines, but had no time to read them.

"The contract has now been fulfilled!" bellowed the creature and smashed his head with its powerful hoof.

***

Allan opened his eyes and looked around his ruined home. Papers and torn books were piled everywhere.

"What happened?" he mumbled, sick with headache.

Suddenly he recalled the spell, and gazed at the paper that he still had seized in his hand.

He saw two phrases.

Yes. They would never get old.

Yes. These sentences will sound real in any century, and in any country.

Every human being would say them to himself at least once during his life.

The immortal, eternal, timeless phrases:

"To be or not to be.

This is the question." ##

NOTE:

# Dev Ilone = Devilone = Devil one

## William Shakespeare, Hamlet

The Shark

I had never visited this bar before.

There were many people inside, and my arrival went unnoticed. I took a drink, and sat in the corner. Funny, but I saw a very interesting program was on the bar TV. I started to watch, to the exclusion of all around.

Suddenly a voice from the next table caught my attention. It sounded so emotional and sincere, and the contents were shocking.

"Would you like to hear about my last day in the training camp?" asked a young, hefty man of a girl. "The final test was pretty hard." He grinned. "Even for us. They put us one by one into a pool with a shark: a Great White shark that hadn't been fed for a while. The only weapon allowed was a knife. The task was not just to try and kill that 'fishie'. When you killed it, they sent you another shark. The task was to die fighting to the last breath, and to not show any fear. Mr. Noirson was sitting in his chair watching us. After the test was done, he resuscitated his soldier and sent the next guy into the pool…"

``Resuscitated?`` Amazed, I thought I misheard this. I listened closely now.

"I've known about this, you know," his girl said, touching his hand. "Calm down, Jerry."

"But I was the best!" he pronounced proudly. "It was the fourth shark got me. And I was lucky; it bit me through with one bite. I died screaming, 'I love you, my Lord!'"

He lifted his glass and drained it in one gulp.

"I was lucky!" Jerry repeated, his voice trembling. "'Cause the man who was sent next wasn't. The shark bit off his foot. He tried to get that damned fish. He really tried! I don't know, maybe that shark wasn't hungry, or it was sick, or just lazy! But it didn't attack him as usual. A few minutes later it bit off the hand with the knife. Just one hand! It bit and bit, just small pieces! And that man finally fell into despair. For him it'd have been better if he just drowned, but he asked for help. He started to scream; he begged us! Mr. Noirson only watched. That man cried, and that shark... Damn! It was so awful!"

My hair stood on end, and gooseflesh was raised over my body. I stared at the TV, pretending to be watching.

"It was so awful that even we were riled up!" Jerry continued his story despite the girl’s attempts to stop him. "But Mr. Noirson turned his head and looked at us."

I understood the man, Jerry, was trying to mimic the haughty gesture of this Mr. Noirson because the girl chuckled nervously.

"Give it up, Jerry," she said. "It's a very regal toss of the head, and only he can pull it off."

"You're right." Jerry sighed, and I heard him pour another glass. "Anyway, he looked at us, and we fell into silence at once. We all belonged to him. We were his slaves, and we chose that way ourselves! But one man jumped into the pool..."

***

"Scott, come back!" Robert rose. "It's not your turn, moron!" He laughed. "Leave that loser!"

Scott tossed his head. "Mr. Noirson, sir, please! He can do it! Just next time! Please, give him a chance! I'm sure he can do it!"

"I said get out! That's an order!" Robert's face became darker with rage. "I will not resuscitate you if you dare disobey me!"

***

"And he didn't..." Jerry said, and I heard him take a drink.

I wanted to finish my own beverage, but the red liquid in my glass seemed as blood, and I couldn't force myself touch it. Besides, Jerry was now continuing his story and I was all attention.

"And after, Mr. Noirson looked at us again and asked, 'Okay, any more heroes here?' He was visibly angry and we all lowered our eyes, and then he lit a cigarette, sat down in his chair again and sent the next guy into the pool...Those who graduate this camp are not ordinary humans any more. We are killing machines, perfect soldiers! We are not afraid of pain or death. We are the Devil's servants. But some things are much worse than death..."

"Enough!" the girl hissed with spite. "Please, stop it! What if someone overhears us?"

I felt her gaze drill my back, but I sat still. The young people continued their talk much more quietly. I couldn't understand a word, but I'd heard enough.

I slowly counted to one hundred, then got up and left the bar, praying and hoping that this story was just a drunken speech.

The Snake

Ronald Bennett and his son Edward, the teenager, took a taxi home, but when the cab entered the highway, Ronald found out that he had lost his wallet, and he cursed.

"Sorry, pal," he said to the chauffeur. "We're out of money, stop here."

The driver told them everything that he was thinking about, and left them in the middle of the highway.

"Very funny!" Edward snorted. "How are we supposed to get home?"

Without a word Bennett turned, and started walking.

Suddenly, a truck stopped near them. Ronald found that kind of weird, by reason of they did not signal. But Edward was tired, and he did not hesitate for long. They climbed into the truck, and said thanks to the driver.

The driver did not reply. He was wearing gloves, and a big, strange, hat. His neck was wrapped with a long dotted scarf. They did not see his face. The truck accelerated and accelerated, and finally Bennett got worried.

"Hey!" he addressed the driver. "Fifty-five miles is the limit here!"

The driver kept silent. The truck was racing through the darkness.

"Stop it!" Ronald shouted, and grabbed his firearm. Open-mouthed Edward stared at them.

And the driver threw a snake on the lap of the youth. Edward choked with horror. It was a thick snake, and its bright coloration indicated that it was venomous.

"Oh, my God!" Edward screamed. He sat still. Bennett lifted his gun.

The driver turned to them, and the men gasped. It was a skeleton, and the eyeless skull showed its eternal smile.

"Welcome to Hell!" It guffawed. The bullet from Ronald's gun shattered it, and the skeleton crumbled to dust.

"The snake! The snake!" Edward repeated as in delirium. Bennett grabbed the wheel. He got in the driver's seat. Of course, the brakes did not work.

"The snake!" Edward was close to hysteria. Bennett glanced at him, and fired. The youth screamed, and Ronald was horrified, thinking he wounded his son, or the snake had already bit him.

But the snake was killed, and Edward cried out only because of the stress.

"Put on your seatbelt!" Bennett told him, keeping his eyes on the road. Sobbing, Edward buckled up.

Ronald turned the truck closer to the barrier wall. He drove very carefully. He needed the truck to rub against the wall, but not crash into it. The awful grinding made the men feel something like a toothache. The truck slowly reduced speed, and finally stopped.

Edward grabbed his father's hand and squeezed it with unlimited gratitude.

They left the truck and fled to avoid the contact with the police, as they did understand no one would believe their story.

The Spider

The scarlet curtains were closed and the bloody shades scared the girl. She wanted to see sunshine again. She pulled the handle, the curtains moved, but did not open. Megan looked attentively. The thin wire was tangled in the loops.

Megan took a chair, put it on the windowsill and climbed onto the seat. The loops were right opposite her face. Megan started to disentangle the wire.

Suddenly a huge black spider fell on her hand.

The girl squealed and threw it away, but with this sharp movement she lost her balance. Megan hit the windowpane with force and fell out. Her head slipped into the one of the loops and the girl hung in the air. Because of the weight of her body the loop tightened, the sharp wire thrusting deeper and deeper into her neck. It worked like a garrote.

Finally, the headless body fell to the ground near the wall and a few seconds later the head, oozing blood, fell onto the snow.

The Toad

Alex Darcheson was a scientist, who did not believe in God or Devil.

This is why when his daughter in her room on the second floor started screaming, and he rushed upstairs, not even a single unreal thought came into his mind.

"Daddy! Get him away! Oh, no! Please! Hurry up! Daddy!" she called him with deadly horror in her voice.

'…A rapist, a sadist, a maniac…' Alex was ready to die, but save his daughter at any price.

He stormed into her room and stood still for a second.

A monstrously huge bullfrog was sitting on the bed. The animal was the size of a basketball. It stared at his daughter, then slowly turned towards Darcheson.

Gasping, he grabbed this beast, and threw it through the window.

A horrible howl sounded on the street. Alex felt his hair stand on end. Hugging herself, the girl gazed at her father. He slowly went to the window, then looked outside.

A woman of middle age was lying on the sidewalk. Darcheson crossed himself. Now he could believe in anything when an amphibian turned into a human being...

She moved. Alex ran downstairs. He grabbed a kitchen knife. If that creature came from Hell, he wanted to send it back.

Darcheson approached her, but the woman sat up, looked around, and burst into curses.

"What bastard threw that damn toad right at my head?" she yelled crazily.

Only now the shocked Alex noted the dead frog near the sidewalk, and he hastily hid the knife.

Not replying to the indignant woman, who was still swearing and shouting, Darcheson slowly went back to the room of his daughter and embraced her with all the love that he had in his heart.

***

He was so happy that the incident had a real explanation, and he did not think how a frog that size could possibly get into the house.

The Vixen

The Son of the Devil, Robert Noirson was the lover of an ordinary girl, Angie Belanger, but he had never stayed with her all night long.

He looked at his watch, and Angie understood he was ready to go back to his life. Back to his business. Back to his wife. She knew about their dating, but did not impede, and Angie was thankful to Mary for her patience. However, a sense of jealousy and envy were still in Belanger's heart. Angie caressed her lover; she hoped he would stay at least a few minutes longer, but he sighed, kissed her, and got up.

Angie silently helped him dress. Although she never dared ask Robert to stay, she could not restrain her thoughts, and he could read them. "Stay!" she wanted to cry. Her eyes shone with timid entreaty.

"I can't, honey." Robert hugged her and left.

Angie sadly looked around her deserted bedroom, gazed at the messy bedclothes and became depressed. She did not straighten the sheets; instead she lay down and quietly wept.

***

She dozed off then heard noises.

Angie sat up, and was amazed to see a strange animal in her room. The green eyes of what looked to be bright red fox glared the girl.

Suddenly the vixen shot upward, onto the bed; the girl instinctively lifted her hand for protection, and its long white fangs sank into her arm, through the flesh to the bone.

Angie screamed with pain and horror. She threw the animal off, grabbed her gun, and fired, but the bullet disappeared and did not harm the vixen.

"Oh, my God!" Belanger crossed herself. She thought about the wife of her lover. An angel in a human body, Mary had powerful supernatural abilities.

"Mrs. Noirson!" Angie timidly addressed the fox. "Kill me, if you wish to! But why do you torment me? I do love your husband, and I can do nothing about that feeling!"

The animal, roaring with rage, attacked the girl again. Screaming, Angie dashed around the room. She threw anything she could grab at the fox. It was useless. Adroitly dodging the objects, the animal chased and bit her. Crazy with pain, Belanger kicked the animal, but its fangs ripped her leg from knee to foot.

'She is a copy of Saint Mary, maybe even a clone.' Suddenly Angie recalled the words of her lover. The girl flung herself to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of holy water, on hand just because of the "people" with whom she was involved, and splashed her hatchet.

"Diamond cut diamond," Angie mumbled. She held the ax with her right hand, and the bottle in her left hand. "Please, Mrs. Noirson! I can understand you! But you have to understand me!"

Baring its teeth, the fox leapt towards the girl. Angie struck it with her hatchet at once and splashed some more holy water for good measure.

Her aim was true and she struck it in the chest. It fell and its body wriggled in the pool of blood.

Clinging to the walls, Angie struggled out of the room. As she was leaving she looked back and saw the dead body of the animal turn into a woman's body.

Weak from the bleeding, Angie went to her living room and fell down on the couch. She moaned with pain and horror.

Suddenly Robert entered. He was smiling, but when he saw her covered with blood he gasped, "Oh, my girl! What happened?"

"I killed her," Angie sobbed. "I'm sorry! I'm very sorry... Please, forgive me... She attacked me..."

"Who?"

His mad howl startled her.

"Your wife..."

His face went pale.

Angie got up, and hugged her demonic lover. "I'm sorry! She attacked me..."

Roaring, he pushed her away and rushed to the room. Angie fell on the floor and burst into tears. She wept for a long time but Robert did not come back. She made an effort to get to her feet and follow her lover.

He stood near the door and stared at the dead woman in the middle of the room. Angie looked too, and she was surprised as it was someone she didn't know.

"Who was she?" she wheezed.

"She was my secretary..." Noirson shook his head. "We were lovers... Poor Anhella..."

Without a glance at Angie, he left her apartment. Some servants came a little later and took out the corpse.

***

Robert did not cure Angie, as he was certainly capable of doing. He had cured many others, and she knew it. Upset that he had totally forgotten about her but feeling guilty, the girl dared not remind him about herself. She treated her own wounds, gave herself a few injections (a nurse, she always had painkillers on hand) then tried to sleep.

But later she felt worse. The pain increased; the girl had a fever. She did not want to risk a repeat dose, as no one would be able to control her condition.

Angie stood it as long as she could. Finally, weeping with despair, she got up, dressed and staggered out.

***

"What?" Mary sleepily looked at her maid. "What are you talking about?"

"...Miss Belanger said it's an emergency!"

"Belanger?" Angrily, Mary sat up in bed. "That's it!" She pushed her husband, sleeping by her side. He awoke, and gazed at his wife with worry.

"You bastard!" she said through clenched teeth. "Could you, please, keep your girlfriend away from me at least? That brash face dares ask for you even to my bed, eh? How much do you think I can stand? Even Anhella has never done that!"

"Oh, Devil!" Robert realized the reason for Belanger's visit. "Honey, I have to tell you..." And he briefly explained. Mary listened with a stony face.

"Go, cure her..." she ordered him. "You forgot, eh? Poor girl... Go, I said! What are you waiting for?"

He left the room, and Mary clutched her head.

"Oh, dear God!" Mary cried. "How I'm tired! Please, help me! I'm tired of this life! Blood, jealousy, murders... I'm tired... I'm so tired... Pleeeeeease..." But suddenly an idea came to her.

She wiped her tears, and, resolutely rising, she waited for her husband's return. When he stepped inside the bedroom, she made a quick magic motion.

***

Smiling, Mary watched a huge beautiful snake securely locked up in a terrarium. The beast dashed inside vainly trying to get out.

"Sorry, my darling, you asked for it, and I had no choice. Now your 'adventures' are over," she whispered. "Now you are mine. Only mine. I know, it's impossible to keep you like that forever, but at least I'll try..."

©2002 Lily Alex

Author homepage: http://www.authorsden.com/lilyalex
Bookpage: http://www.booksurge.com/author.php3?accountID=GRTU00082
Fancy edition: http://www.xlibris.com/LostonEarthorFatefulLove.html