The Ruin of Richard Slade

By Sebastian Tolhurst

At last he begins to stir beneath me.

“Wake up Richard Slade.”

A moan fills the dark.

“WAKE UP RICHARD SLADE.”

A startled gasp brings a grin from ear to ear.

“Who are you?  Where am I?” Richard Slade asks.

“Feel around you.  Feel that rough pine?  You’re in your grave Richard Slade.”

“I ain’t dead?”

“Sometimes the hangman misses his mark.”

“Hey mister, you get me out of here and I’ll make it worth your while.  Got a ton of loot hidden just outside town.  You get me free and half’s yours.”

“I can’t get you out Richard Slade, I’m in the grave with you.”

“Ain’t nobody in here but me, so quit lying and get digging.”

“You misunderstand me. I’m not a rescuer; I’m the devil come to claim you for my own.”

“So I am dead after all.”

“Not yet Richard Slade, but soon. I shall just have to wait patiently for you to waste away in this box.”

He starts hammering on the lid of his coffin, yelling for someone to dig him out.  I let him go hoarse before I interject.

“There’s nobody up there Richard Slade.  Nobody weeps over you; there is no graveyard shift for your kind.  Nothing stirs in the cemetery but ghosts.”

“You’ve got no claim over me devil.  I recanted; the father absolved me of my sins.”

“Nothing, not even holy water, can ever wash the blood off those hands Richard Slade.  You are mine for eternity.  In the meantime I’ll watch to see what happens first; do you run out of air or starve?  But that is some time off.  To pass the time shall I describe what I have in store for you in hell?”

I begin to list every torture that awaits him below.  I go into ever gory detail I can think of.  I drone on and on until I’m sure there’s no way he can hear my voice over his desperate screams.

I sit up and cut a slice off the ham beside me, tearing a chunk off a loaf of bread to go with it.  I’ve more than enough provisions to see me through the next few days.

Around me the graveyard is silent.  The headstones cast long dark shadows in the moonlight; but I am immune to the gloom.

I lean back against Richard Slade’s headstone again, tucking the tube that snakes into the ground under my ear.  I light my pipe, listening to his screams.  The sound of him scratching wildly at his coffin lid brings a smile to me.  I imagine splinters piercing flesh, finger nails flying off.  I wonder what torture to inflict upon his mind next.

Those who aren’t good enough for hanging should think twice before they lay a finger on the hangman’s daughter.

Lady of Grey

Happy Halloween!  Here's a horror story just in time for my favorite holiday:

Lady of Grey

By Sebastian Tolhurst

                The world explodes, flashes and goes black.  Everything stays black.  Where am I, what happened to me?  The only sound in the blackness is a gentle ringing. 

My eyes are squeezed tightly shut.  I gently pry my eyes open, and the black is washed out in a painful flare.  The landscape is momentarily washed out by the bright sun, slowly taking shape around me.  I’m on my knees in the middle of a wide field.  Around me the long glass stands perfectly still.  A red mist hangs in the air in front of me, giving the scene the monochromatic appearance of a cheap horror movie.  I peer around the mist, trying to get a better view of my surroundings.  The field is broad, the golden blades of grass glowing in the bright sunlight.  There’s something odd about the light, a wall of shadow cloaks everything beyond the limits of the field.  My eyes must be deceiving me; it’s summer in the field, but the surrounding country appears to be locked in the grey of winter.  Gnarled, dead trees mark the edge of the clearing.

                How did I get here?  Last I remembered I was in the city.  I remember fear, but nothing more.  Who am I?  Even that’s gone.

                I try to move, but my arms are pinned behind my back.  I strain, but all I do is hurt my wrists.  My legs are numb, and refuse to listen to my demands.

                A flicker of movement at the edge of the clearing breaks my focus.  I stop my efforts, gazing intensely where the shadows have begun to dance.  Slowly a figure steps from the dark.  It’s an old woman.  She’s wrapped head to toe in coarse dirty cloth, a black shawl wrapped tightly around her head, her long grey hair trailing behind.

                “Help me, help me!” I yell.

                She doesn’t respond, continuing to move slowly in my direction.  Her hair is flows behind her, moving in slow motion, like it’s suspended in water.  As she moves the shadowy curtain is pulled along behind her, like it’s affixed to her back.

                I’m starting to panic.  I scream at my legs to move, but they remain as deaf as ever.

                As the figure moves on, wild flowers wilt and die around her.  As the pedals drop they become great grey moths in mid-air.  The moths flit around her, landing only to tear holes in the ragged cloth draped over her body.  The skin beneath is grey and loose, like a corpse that’s been underwater for weeks.  Beneath the shawl all that shows of her face are two eyes that seem to be all black pupil.  Those eyes never leave me, never blinking.

                I’m straining at my body, desperate to get something moving.  My heart should be pounding in my chest, but I can’t feel it beat at all.  I throw my head back and scream until my lungs are empty.  When I bring my head forward again she’s looming over me.  Hundreds of moths flit around us, blotting out the sun.  Never taking her unblinking stare off me, she slowly unwraps the shawl from her head.  As she does her mouth falls open.  It drops half way down her chest, her jaw not connected to her face.  The skin stretches around the great gaping black hole of her toothless mouth.  She begins to inhale, making a horrible rasping sound.  I feel a pressure building in my head.  She keeps inhaling, her lungs should surely burst.  The pressure keeps building, I feel like my brain is being pulled through my skull.  The world is starting to distort, curving into that gaping maw.  I can feel myself being drawn closer……closer…….

                Two men leave a field, where three had entered.