Hide And Go Bleed
by William Ollie

Johnny popped the tab on his beer and watched Tommy do the same. He rolled a joint and handed it to Bug. He thought about giving the half-full bag of pot to Tommy, but decided that would be foolish. Johnny couldn’t afford to take it home with him; there was no telling what his mom might do if she caught him with drugs again. But give it to Tommy for safekeeping? He might as well flush it down the toilet.

I’ll stash it somewhere on my way home, he thought, as Bug tossed his cigarette down and used his shoe to grind it out on the flat grave marker next to them.

Bug flicked his lighter and the pungent odor of marijuana filled the air around them.

"Hey," Tommy said with a laugh, "let’s play hide’n go seek."

"What are you, Dude?" Bug asked. "Six?"

"Something to do," Tommy replied as he accepted the joint from Bug. "What’s the matter… scared?"

"Yeah, right." Bug took a hit of reefer, leaned back and blew smoke into the statue’s face. In the pale light of the full moon, he didn’t notice when old man Peterson’s statue cut its eyes at him.

"What about you, squirt? Johnny asked his seven-year-old brother. "You up for a little graveyard, one two three, you’re It?"

"Gee, I don’t know." Just being in the cemetery made Billy nervous. He commented on how dark it was, and added, "It’s kind’a spooky out here."

"That’s the idea, little Dude." Tommy laughed, and offered the joint to Billy.

"Do it and die, bitch," Johnny warned his little brother, who grinned sheepishly, and said, "Aw, c’mon man." But drew his hand back anyway.

Bug took a drink of beer and stood up. "I gotta piss." He took a few steps, stood on top of a grave and unzipped his pants.

"What’re you doing?" Billy asked.

"Pissin’," Bug replied with a grin. "What does it look like?" Bug’s urine rained down on the grave.

"That’s messed up," Billy scolded. "Peeing on somebody’s grave? You’re sick."

Bug laughed and said, "So what? He’s dead."

Tommy read the headstone. "Uh, you mean, she’s dead." He snickered and called out, "Here lies Sally Bliss, soaking wet from Bug’s beer-piss!"

Tommy, Bug and Johnny laughed heartily.

Billy saw the dates on the tombstone: 1996 to 2003. He shook his head with disgust and looked around nervously.

If they had looked up, they might have seen old man Peterson’s statue scowling at them.

* * *

Johnny ran across and over a few graves, and scaled a small, rundown mausoleum. He laid down on the roof and watched Tommy hide behind a marble monument decorated by a rusty old wrought iron cross.

Billy laid down in front of a headstone and peeked around the side.

While Johnny looked down from the decrepit old mausoleum, Bug, who had pressed his head against old man Peterson’s statue, finished counting. He turned and peered across the cemetery. It was dark, but the full moon cast just enough light for him to see.

Tommy crouched behind the cross, watching dead leaves blow across the cemetery. He heard Bug call out, "Ready or not, here comes Bug!" and saw him slowly move away from old man Peterson’s grave. When Bug glanced his way, Tommy dropped to his knees, hoping he wouldn’t be seen.

Johnny looked up just in time to see a dark cloud move across the sky, finally coming to rest in front of the moon.

Billy felt the darkness settle in around him. He saw the moonlight disappear as if it were being sucked out of the cemetery. He peered through the night, trying to find Bug, but it was too dark. He heard somebody gasp, and then scream. He turned his head toward the sound and there was Tommy, suspended in air above the ornamental cross.

A deep-throated voice bellowed, "Tag, you’re it."

Billy saw Tommy’s body slam into the monument, and heard a loud Crack that was Tommy’s back breaking.

As suddenly as it had appeared, the dark cloud vanished. A faint light filtered back into the graveyard, and in the pale moonlight, Billy saw a dark shadow hovering above Tommy. It was long and black, and it billowed in the wind like a big black cloak. But, somehow, Billy knew it wasn’t a cloak, because a cloak couldn’t have swooped down and grabbed Tommy, which is exactly what this thing did.

When the shadowy form dropped to the ground, a skeletal hand reached out and grabbed the moaning teenager by his throat. Long, white bony fingers wrapped around Tommy’s neck. When another ghastly hand grasped his head, the pressure caused an eyeball to pop out of its socket and dangle on the end of its optic nerve. The other eye split in half and a clear, jelly-like substance oozed out and ran down Tommy’s face.

The shadow levitated, and Billy saw Tommy’s limp body rise with it. He watched in horror as the shadow hovered a few feet above the cross, and threw the broken body down so hard that it was impaled on the rusty old crucifix. Billy bit his lip to keep from crying out when he saw the top of the cross sticking out of Tommy’s back, and his entrails swinging back and forth, spraying warm blood they dangled over the cold grave.

* * *

When Tommy screamed, Bug thought he was just trying to spook them. He took off running for the cross, knowing he was going to catch his goofy friend and tag him It.

When the moonlight returned, Bug saw the shadow. His mind couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. He stopped running and watched Tommy and the dark figure rise above the cross, and saw the cross skewer his running mate’s body. As a river of blood poured, splashing the marble tombstone and soaking the grave, Bug staggered backwards.

A demonic voice sang out, "One two three on Bug!"

A small child’s laughter echoed through the night.

Bug saw the shadow coming for him. He turned to run and tripped over a vase full of old dead flowers. Bug screamed and struggled to his feet.

Billy heard the voice call out Bug’s name, and a deep-throated moan that made the ground shake. He heard a child laughing, glanced up at the old rundown mausoleum and saw the same horrified look on his brother’s face that he knew was on his own. He watched the shadow billow in the wind as it floated toward Bug. He heard Bug scream, and watched him get to his feet and take off running.

The shadow swooped down, and Billy saw what looked like a long, dark cloak gliding along the ground, dragging its coat tails on the grass as it chased after Bug.

The shadow started to fade, and then, suddenly, it disappeared.

Bug ran across the cemetery, dodging monuments and leaping over headstones as he raced for the exit. When he looked over his shoulder and didn’t see the shadow, he laughed wildly and ran as hard as he could.

When the shadow disappeared, Billy stood up. He watched Bug dodging the tombstones and thought he was actually going to make it. Billy glanced up at his brother and saw him motion for him to haul ass. He turned and saw Bug leap over a grave marker and saw blood explode from his chest, as his body convulsed, frozen in mid air, gushing blood revealing two ghostly arms sticking through his chest and protruding out his back.

As Bug bucked and twitched, the shadow materialized. Two skeletal arms ripped Bug in half and tossed him in the air. A child’s laugh resonated, as blood, guts and body parts rained down on the graveyard.

Billy crouched behind a tombstone as the voice from Hell call out, "One two three on Billy!" He looked to his brother for help, but he had flattened himself against the mausoleum and Billy could barely see the top of his head.

Billy peered over the tombstone and saw the shadow coming for him, floating across the cemetery, ghastly arms flailing, and two blood-red eyes seeking him out.

"One two three on Billy Greavy!" a giggling little girl’s voice called out.

Billy took off running blindly across the graveyard, not knowing or caring where he was going, as long as he was putting distance between him and that thing. He raced toward the street, stepping on graves and dodging headstones.

As the shadow picked up speed and swooped in for the kill, Billy tripped. A jagged, bony finger ripped across his back as he sprawled face first onto the thick carpet of dead leaves covering the cemetery grass. He looked up and saw the shadow glide past him, rise into the air and spread its cloak like a great big, black vulture. The red eyes stared and the two skeletal arms reached out for him. "One two three on Billy," it moaned, and a child’s voice echoed gleefully, "One two three on Billy Greavy!"

Billy scrambled to his feet and took off running.

The little girl’s voice called out, "Here lies Billy, all dead and looking silly!"

Billy glanced over his shoulder and saw a bony finger reaching out for him. It was almost close enough to grab him. He dodged one tombstone and dove headlong over another, rolled a couple of times and crashed into old man Peterson’s statue.

As the shadow descended upon him, Billy touched the statue and cried out, "Home free!"

Billy saw the dark spirit rise into the pale moonlight and turn toward the mausoleum. He heard the voice moan, "One two three on Johnny!" and took off running across the cemetery. As he headed for the street as fast as his seven-year-old legs could carry him, a small child’s giggly voice squealed, "One two three on Johnny Greavy!"

©2003 William Ollie