Open Mic, Oct. 25, 2015

Good Eeeevening, and welcome.

It’s time again for Terrible Tales of Terror with Trell:

It was just dawn and there was still a fine drizzle in the air after the heavy rain during the night. Ben and Polly were maneuvering the canoe through the rocks into their favorite spot; the far end of the pond where the brush came down into the water. The reedy grass, rocks, and low hanging branches made it difficult to get to, but the pickerel loved it here and they always gave a good fight. All their fishing gear was stowed in the bottom of the canoe so it wouldn’t get hung up coming through the branches.

With the cloud cover still heavy, it would remain somewhat dark over here, but the fishing would be good. Ben cast low off the front while Polly cast to the side and rear. She got a strike almost immediately and started bringing it in, Ben laid his pole down and got the net out ready to help her get the fish in the boat. She was bringing it in rather fast so it was probably going to be too small to keep. As she pulled it up out of the water Ben swung the net underneath, sure enough it was only about eleven inches, too small for eating. She deftly unhooked it while Ben held it still from thrashing and then let it slip back in to the water.

Ben picked up his pole and started reeling in his lure but it resisted, probably got hung up in the weeds while he was helping Polly. Not uncommon with all the growth in here, you tended to spend a lot of time retrieving your lures from snags and often losing them to the pond bottom. Ben’s was coming in slow so it wasn’t snagged but there was a lot of weight he could see something being dragged in on the surface, in the dim light it looked like a log. “Polly, I caught another log”, they laughed, then Ben gave a good tug on the line and it snapped. “Damn, my favorite lure, let’s paddle over and I’ll pull it out.” “Okay Ben”, she reeled in her line and put her pole down in the bottom of the canoe, then reached for her paddle.

It was only a few strokes and they were in range, Ben reached for the log and when he did it rolled over. “Polly don’t look”, as it turned he could see it wasn’t a log at all it was a body, the eyes had been picked out by the fish and the body was ripped wide open at the chest, the clothing all stained red and broken meatless bones jutting outward, clearly the fish had been working here too. Ben’s stomach surged and he threw up over the side of the canoe, rocking it violently. “Ben, are you okay. What is it?” now she was trying to see for herself. “I think it’s old man McGillicuddy, he’s dead” “Are you sure”, just then she saw the body floating just beyond Ben, mutilated like nothing she had ever seen before. She was about to be sick when the water started to bubble violently beside the canoe, “We better get out of here, let someone know.” The water frenzy slowed and they could see fleeting images of small fish feeding where Ben had unintentionally chummed the water.

What they couldn’t see was something moving through the water, amongst the brush and reeds blending in except for a pair of dirty, yellowish eyes. Eyes watching them, which could almost be mistaken for human, intelligent, cunning, and angry.

They paddled furiously struggling to get through the brush quickly, getting scraped and clawed and scratched at by the overgrowth. Suddenly something lunged at them, surging into the canoe and tipping it over. They were thrown into the water, they tried to stand up in the shallows but struggling to move, their feet trapped in the muck at the bottom. The air had a foul stench, and Ben saw Polly look at him and scream. He turned to see yellow eyes, jagged teeth, and a hideous face coming straight at him. A clawed hand struck him, ripping open his cheek and knocking him back into the water. He heard Polly scream again and was struggling to get back on his feet when he felt something slam into his back pushing him back into the water. His head was spinning and he saw stars…

Barrrrr, barrrrr, barrrr, his alarm clock screamed. He woke to find himself on the floor, beside his chair, soaked in sweat, his heart pounding. Ohhhhhhhh, bad, stupid dream. 4:30, getting up always the worst part of early morning fishing; and I’m supposed to meet Polly at the pond at 5:30. He hustled to the kitchen for coffee and a quick bite, his gear was already by the door and it was just a 15 minute walk to the pond.

He flipped the radio on. The jingle for Maxwell House coffee was playing. “He checked his phone and saw that Polly had sent him a text, “trouble sleeping, woke early, will meet you by the cove”. He tried calling her and it rang and went to voice mail, she didn’t like phones when they fished, no interruptions.

And now back to the news: “A body was found late last night floating by the dam at Scalliwussett Pond, believed to be Hiram McGillicuddy, who lived back in the woods. Police said the body had been mutilated like nothing they’d ever…”

“Polly”, Ben scrambled for the door nearly breaking his nose trying to get through before it was open. Down the stairs and running down the path to the pond it was nearly black out and his flashlight was with his gear, but he knew the trail, and his eyes were adjusting to the little bit of light there was. He ran into a darker section, tripping into a hollow in the ground and collided with someone/something, and they both went down. “Ben, what the hell”, exclaimed Polly. “I heard on the radio, a dead body at the pond, got your text, came down to get you. “Yeah, the whole area by the dam is taped off there are police everywhere.” Ben looked and saw a soft glow from some lights over the ridge. “They sent me away, so I figured I’d come up to your place, and my flashlight just died a minute ago.”

Not 10 feet from where they were standing, something was watching them, just a glint of yellow eyes peering around a tree.

“I’m just glad you’re safe”. Ben, heard a branch crack and suddenly the bushes exploded and something came charging right at them, all he could make out was clawed arms reaching towards them, angry yellow eyes and jagged teeth.

Trick or Treat, Sleep Well my friends…


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