Thirteen Volume Three

thirteen

Volume Three

Edited by Andrew Hannon

Cloontubrid Press

Easkey Castle Books

Published by Cloontubrid Press

A division of Easkey Castle Books

Copyright © 2015 Edited by Andrew Hannon

All rights reserved

make yourself uncomfortable

The right of Andrew Hannon to be identified as the editor of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

With the exception of having their stories published under Thirteen, the economic rights to the short stories in this anthology are those of the individual respective authors, including the right to authorize the reproduction of the work in any form (Article 9, Berne Convention). Furthermore, the perpetual moral right to be identified as the author of the work and the right to object to any distortion or mutilation of the work which would be prejudicial to his or her honour or reputation remains with the individual respective authors. Your soul will be taken in lieu of payment if you have deliberately misappropriated this collection or if you aid and abet in its misappropriation by others.

First published in the United States in 2014

This edition published 2014

Performing ‘The Midnight Man’ in Italy may result in your arrest. Please obtain legal advice before commencing.

The Midnight Man, Darran York

Teddy, Michael Yowell

Bocca, Gregory A. Carter

The Paradise Park, Paul Flewitt

There's A Light On At The Old Sutter Place, James Pratt

The Jolly Man, Kenneth C. Goldman

Ghosts, Norman A. Rubin

Walking The Dog, Rick McQuiston

The Haunted Academy, Derek Muk

I Wonder Who’s Died, Jack Horne

Dead Man’s Party, Adrean Messmer

Needing Is Wanting, Adrean Messmer

Lot And The Reckoning, Pete Clark

The Meat Lover’s Special, Miracle Austin

The Quiet Place, M J McClymont

Our Last Waltz, Wilson Pike

The Antique Clock, Cameron Trost

I’m Not Stanislaw, Richard J. O’Brien

Visiting Hours, Richard Farren Barber

Life’s A..., M.R. Gott

Spielzeug Nacht, Greg McWhorter

Tied In Love, Amy Langevin

Parable, Michael Cornelius

Perchance To See The World, Alex Zivko-Clark

Homeless, Jason Barney

THE MIDNIGHT MAN

Darran York

These are instructions for playing a game called ‘The Midnight Man’. This is not a short story.

Follow the instructions carefully if you want this to work. However, if you are under the age of eighteen it is recommended that you do NOT play this game. Even if you consider yourself mature, some of your friends may not be. But the choice is yours.

To give you some background, ‘The Midnight Man’ has been around for a long time. Its original name was Cemirrv and it originated in northern Europe.

There are, of course, variations of it on the internet, most of which are way, way, way off the mark. Some involve pin-pricks of all the participants’ blood. The good news for those of you who might be a bit squeamish is that the blood part is nonsense. The bad news is if you’re squeamish about a few drops of blood, playing the game may terrify you to the brink of madness. Or worse.

And you don’t play it with candles. That’s bullshit too. Candles and games at midnight are more likely to result in a visit from the Fire Department rather than The Midnight Man, because pussies get freaked out and drop them; the carpet catches light, nee-naw-nee-naw…

Candles – or any form of contrived light – make the experience less scary anyway, so don’t be a wimp.

Anyway, let’s get on with this…

First of all, let’s make sure you’ve got the basics sorted… You won’t be able to refer to this while you’re playing the game, so pay attention now and make sure you get what I’m saying.

You need enough rooms in the house/apartment/abandoned building so that each player has their own individual room. So you might choose a bedroom for yourself, the kitchen for Paul, the sitting room for Lisa and the bathroom for Dwayne. Each room has to have a door.

Speaking of Paul, Lisa and Dwayne, that’s not prescriptive. You can have four people playing, but you can use, two, three, five… any number up to and including thirteen.

Next thing is, everyone in the house/apartment/abandoned building needs to play or it won’t work. So it’s no good if your friend Paul decides he just wants to watch. If he’s not playing, tell him to leave the building. Everyone in the building needs to participate.

The game needs to begin at exactly midnight and will last for thirty three minutes. After thirty three minutes, The Midnight Man will leave. And hopefully you and your pals won’t be dead.

Once you’ve digested all of the above, let’s crack on and summon The Midnight Man.

As I said, you need to get ready for exactly midnight. So from about 11.50pm, all players need to go to the room they selected, TURN OFF THE LIGHT and get comfortable. There should not be one single light on in the entire building.

Each player must sit down in the middle of the room. The door of their room must be left slightly open and each player needs to have their back towards the door.

At exactly midnight (set your alarm if you don’t have a luminous watch), the first player must call out ‘One Midnight’. When the second player hears this, they must call out ‘Two Midnight’. Player three, upon hearing this, must call out ‘Three Midnight’. And so on and so on until between you all, you have counted to ‘Thirteen Midnight’.

Congratulations. You’ve now summoned The Midnight Man.

So what happens next? Well, waiting to see is the exciting part. You’ll soon find out… All you need to do is sit still for thirty three minutes while The Midnight Man goes from room to room.

And I can guarantee you, he WILL come to your room.

He WILL make his presence known to you.

If he passes in front of you (which he may), do NOT look him in the eye.

Do not flinch if he moves towards you… and definitely don’t try to leave the room.

And no matter how compelled you feel to respond, do not answer any questions he might ask you. If you hear what you think is one of your friends calling your name, DO NOT respond – it may be a trick.

You ARE allowed to keep your eyes closed throughout the entire experience if you think that helps, but DO NOT fall asleep.

If you do keep your eyes closed, keep alert for the following signs that The Midnight Man is in your room:

Suddenly getting very cold…

Hearing a low whisper…

And that’s about it, my friend.

Sounds silly? Like all of my little experiences, let’s see how silly you think it is when you actually try it. Go on… it’s just thirty three minutes, right? It’s just a kid’s game, isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

You’ll see…

TEDDY

Michael Yowell

Daddy! Daddy! erupted Cindy. A garage sale! And look, they have toys!

Travis rolled his eyes. Don’t you have enough toys by now?

Mommy says I outgrow them, she responded. And plus, when I get new toys Mommy gives the old ones to poor kids that don’t have any.

Of course the bitch does, thought Travis. Why not give away all the toys Dad buys? Just fewer reminders of him left in the house.

Pleeeeeeeeeease?

Travis peered into the rear-view mirror, studying his five-year-old daughter in the car seat. Hell, it wasn’t her fault her mother was heartless and self-serving. And he couldn’t say no to his little girl smiling with her first baby tooth missing. He slowed his Toyota Camry and veered to the curb.

Yay! Cindy celebrated. I love garage sales.

More than Toys R Us?

Daddy, she explained, as only five-year-olds can, garage sales are a lot cheaper. You should be happy about that.

Travis could not help laughing out loud. Okay, honey, you’re absolutely right. Bless her heart, already understanding the value of money. He was a proud papa.

The yard was cluttered with baby furniture, various tools, a scraped-up bicycle, and a rocking chair. Travis brought his daughter through the maze, glancing at all the offerings. They made their way to the driveway, which was thick with folding tables and crates, filled with old records, paperback books, dishes, clothing, and toys. While Travis paused to look at the books, little Cindy made straight for the crates of used toys.

Two stuffed animals caught her attention immediately. One was a stuffed white puppy, a husky, cute as can be. The other was a soft, brown teddy bear. The bear looked very old, with ratty fur and torn ears. But something about the way it was positioned, facing the five-year-old just so, made him pathetically irresistible to Cindy. She picked them both up, hugging them to her.

Looks like someone found a friend, said a voice, and Cindy turned around. An elderly black woman with silvering hair was smiling down at the little girl. Hello, sweetie, I’m Emma. Welcome to my garage sale.

Hi, Cindy responded politely.

Find something you like? asked Travis, arriving with a small handful of tattered paperback novels.

Cindy held up the stuffed animals. Oh yes, Daddy! Aren’t they adorable?

Adorable, huh? noted Travis. Probably a word she picked up from her mother describing the gifts given by her new boyfriend. I can’t make up my mind which one I want, though.

Why not take both? Travis suggested, turning to the old woman. How much for the little critters?

Emma squinted. Well, I know Barry’s old puppy is a dollar. But I don’t remember having that teddy bear. She thought hard, sure that no children had been by that could have left it there. Finally she shrugged and said, I’ll tell you what – you buy that puppy for a dollar fifty, and you can take the bear too.

Sold, ma’am, said Travis. And these books, too.

In the car, Cindy talked to her new pets. She was explaining to them how they had to behave at Daddy’s place, and then after the weekend they would be going home with her to Mommy’s house. Travis curled his upper lip at the mention of Mommy.

They arrived at Travis’s humble suburban condo. Cindy grabbed her jacket and the stuffed animals while Travis lugged her weekend suitcase up the path to his building. He unlocked the door, and little Cindy trotted to her bedroom ahead of him. Travis followed to help her unpack and get settled in.

When her things were laid out, Cindy joined her father in the kitchen. He was putting together dinner, which she always enjoyed helping him with. After they ate, she returned to her room while Travis rinsed the pots and dishes.

Once the dishwasher was loaded and running, Travis wandered down the hallway to join his daughter. He turned the corner to her bedroom and found her sitting on the floor with the teddy bear, staring into the bear’s eyes. She was absolutely mesmerized. Travis chuckled at the sight.

You really like that old thing, huh?

Cindy snapped to attention. Oh hi Daddy.

Playing with your new friends?

The puppy’s tired, so he’s taking a nap now. I don’t know his name yet. She held up the bear. But this is Teddy. And Teddy, this is Daddy.

Travis leaned down, hands on his knees. Hello, little guy.

Let him smell you, Daddy, Cindy instructed. That’s what animals do.

Okay, said Travis, playing along. He stretched his right hand out to the teddy bear. Here you go, boy.

Cindy manipulated its head to simulate sniffing her father’s hand. The stuffed animal’s nose was cold. Travis recoiled instinctively. He could swear the black button nose was wet.

Whoa! he exclaimed. His nose is cold!

No, Daddy, Cindy giggled. You’re funny.

Come on, urged Travis. What do you say we play a little Xbox before bed? The child agreed, following her father to the living room for some video game fun.

After a bit it was time for little Cindy to get ready for bed. Travis told her to brush her teeth and get her jammies on. He gave her a few minutes to do so, then he headed down the hallway to tuck her in and say goodnight.

Before he got to her room, he heard a low, gravelly growl. Travis stopped for a second, then realized his daughter was playing with her new teddy bear. Smiling, he continued to her room. Sure enough, she was sitting on the bed with the bear.

Ready for bed? Travis asked.

Uh huh.

He put her under the covers, placing the bear on the pillow next to her. Have a good sleep, he said. Tomorrow we’ll go do some fun stuff.

Cindy gave him a hug, and he turned the light off. Then he headed down the hallway to watch some TV. Travis spent the next hour or two having a couple quiet beers on the couch while catching up on sports highlights.

Then he turned everything off and locked up the apartment. After checking in on Cindy, he trudged to bed. It did not take long for Travis to succumb to the drift of sleep.

His dreams were normal at first; some of being at work without pants, some of four-wheel-driving, some of willing women. But then there was a sense of dread that filtered into his dreaming, like some invisible monster was coming for him. He could almost hear it sniffing the air for his scent. The dread grew heavy and desperate as he realized the monster was almost upon him.

Travis awoke. He took a moment to adjust to his surroundings, finally realizing he was safe in his bed. Shaking his head, as if to clear it like an Etch A Sketch, he closed his eyes to get back to sleep.

Then he heard sniffing in the dark. It sounded like it was at the foot of his bed.

He opened his eyes. Was that really sniffing he heard? Was that what infiltrated his dreams and woke him? Of course not, he reasoned, don’t be ridiculous. Surely the dream was still in his mind, making him think he was hearing things. He slept again.

He was awakened again several hours later. This time it was not a sniffing sound, but rather a distinct growl. It was soft and quiet, but it jolted him nonetheless. Travis sat up and rubbed his eyes, fumbling for the switch on his nightstand lamp. He turned the light on and scanned the room with nervous eyes.

Nothing out of the ordinary was visible in the low light. He slid out of bed and walked to his doorway, his eyes darting everywhere. When he reached his bedroom doorway, he saw a light on in the hallway bathroom. Then Cindy flipped the light off and shuffled back to her bed. Travis smiled, silencing a chuckle. Only a kid, he noted, would have the imagination to make noises for their stuffed animals, even when they’re half asleep. He returned to bed.

The next morning was bright and sunny. When Cindy woke, she got her father up and stated she was hungry. Travis waltzed to the kitchen with her, where he started coffee and pulled out milk and cereal. By the time his coffee was done brewing, little Cindy was pouring her second bowl of Cheerios. Eating like a hungry bear, he observed.

Do that bear growl again, smiled Travis. I liked that.

Cindy frowned. What bear growl?

You know, the one you made last night in your room when you were playing with the bear.

That wasn’t me, shrugged Cindy. That was Teddy. He was a grumpy old bear. He was mad when I told him we had to go to sleep. I guess he wanted to stay up longer.

Travis rolled his eyes. Well, finish up your breakfast. We have a long, fun day ahead of us.

The two did have a full day. Travis took his daughter to the zoo, then to lunch, then to the movies to see the latest animated kid’s feature, and then to their favorite park for a walk-and-talk around the sleepy lake.

By the time they returned to Travis’s apartment with their dinner, it was almost six o’clock. Travis unlocked the door with one hand while gripping the bags of Burger King with his other. He opened the door and the two of them spilled inside.

The bear was sitting upright in the middle of the floor, almost appearing like it had been waiting impatiently.

Hi Teddy, gleamed Cindy. Were you a good boy while we were gone?

Teddy simply sat innocently, staring at the little girl.

Go put him in the bedroom, honey, Travis instructed. We don’t want to trip over him. And go wash your hands for dinner. Cindy did so.

They ate their burgers and fries, washing them down with the soothing cold of their vanilla milkshakes. Then it was time for a movie while they digested, and Cindy picked out her usual Disney DVD. After the animated movie, it was Cindy’s bedtime. Travis directed her to her room to change into her jammies and brush her teeth, and she reluctantly complied.

Ten minutes later, Travis wandered into Cindy’s room to tuck her in. He found her on the carpeted floor playing with her teddy bear again. But the cute stuffed husky was nowhere in sight.

What happened to your puppy?

Cindy lowered her head. Teddy gobbled him up.

Uh huh, said Travis. Well, you need to get to sleep, honey. It’s past your bedtime. He helped her into bed, kissed her forehead, and said goodnight. Then he flicked the light off and returned to the living room couch for a couple hours of ESPN.

By eleven, Travis was drowsy. It had been a full, tiring day with his daughter, and he had now hit a wall. Realizing he could barely keep his eyes open, he turned the TV off and sauntered to bed.

He awoke hours later to the distinct sound of sniffing. Taking a moment to gather his senses, Travis sat up in bed and turned on the nightstand lamp. His eyes quickly focused, and he saw nobody else in the room with him.

But then, soft and subtle, he heard the noise coming from the hallway. Damn kid, he thought, she should be sleeping instead of playing around. Half-agitated, Travis got out of bed and headed to the hallway.

He stopped at the doorway. Something moved in the gloom of the hallway, and he had to pause to see what it was. Must be Cindy, his mind told him, but what slight images his eyes could pull from the darkness were not that of a little girl. He strained his eyes, trying to identify the moving object before taking the few more steps into the hallway to reach the light switch.

As his eyes adjusted further, he saw what looked like something very small crawling in the dark, slow and smooth. But it was too small to be Cindy. It was almost the size of a cat, creeping ever so slowly toward him. He thought he could almost make out the yellow glow of tiny eyes.

His pulse quickening, Travis moved farther into the hallway and nervously flipped the light switch. The brightness stung his eyes for a second. Then he scanned the hallway and saw Cindy’s ratty little teddy bear lying face-down on the carpet.

What the hell? he wondered, questioning his eyes. Nothing was in the hallway except that old bear. I must be half-asleep, he surrendered, shaking his head. He picked up the stuffed animal, returned it to his daughter’s room, and went back to bed.

Half an hour went by before Travis was snapped awake yet again. A noise coming from down the hall, just unusual enough to pull him from his slumber. Was that a groan or a growl? He waited to hear it again.

Now he heard a continuous growling, quiet but deep. Enough is enough, he fumed. Travis, fed up with his sleep being interrupted, swung his legs over the mattress and marched to the hallway.

The sound was definitely coming from Cindy’s room, as he expected. He was prepared to be stern, to be demanding, but by the time he got to Cindy’s room and flicked the light switch on, what he saw made him pause in puzzled silence.

Little Cindy was awake, although not in the true sense of the word. She was sitting up in her bed, frozen still, staring at the teddy bear with lifeless, unblinking eyes. The low growl was not coming from her mouth; it emanated from the stuffed bear standing in front of her on the bed. Then Travis saw something that jolted him.

The bear’s head quickly turned to face Travis.

Travis did not know what to do. Was he really seeing what he thought he was seeing? Before his brain could prompt him to take any action, however, his attention was drawn to the bear’s eyes. The black glass eyes began to glow bright yellow, gradually at first, then growing in intensity. Travis was captured by the hypnotic glow, and he suddenly found himself paralyzed like his daughter.

The spectator now helplessly secured, the stuffed bear turned its attention back to little Cindy. The hint of a smile curled up its lips, separating the stitching of its tiny mouth.

What happened next was the most terrifying thing Travis could ever be forced to witness. The bear’s furry maw opened, wider and wider and wider. Unnaturally wide. Its jaws stretched outward, lower jaw on the bedspread and upper jaw at Cindy’s face. Then the teeth appeared. Sharp and huge, the size of something that could never have been there before.

Frozen, Travis could only watch in horror as the bear leaned forward and began to devour little Cindy. The girl’s head disappeared first into the gnashing teeth, followed by her frail shoulders, ribs, torso, hips, and spindly legs, until she was gone. All gone, save the small amount of blood that managed to spill out onto the bedspread.

Somehow Travis was able to break free from his paralysis. He crumpled to the floor, drew every ounce of strength he could muster, and urgently began to crawl away into the hallway.

His arms and legs were barely movable, but he managed to will them to carry him across the long stretch of carpet back to his bedroom. He was still in shock, numbed by the inconceivable thing he had just seen. It was a surreal blur.

Eventually, Travis found his way inside his bedroom closet. He shakily shut the louvered doors and shrank back into the confining darkness. Shuddering, he held his knees tight against his chest. He had become a frightened, helpless child. Reduced to a feeble, quivering mass awaiting his fate.

It did not take long before Travis heard noisy, hungry sniffing at the closet door.

BOCCA

Gregory A. Carter

Where are you going? Martin asked.

To Independence Square to take a few pictures before it gets too crowded. Stuart dashed across Chestnut Street, leaving Martin standing alone on the corner to watch him weave through the few slow-moving cars and disappear into the crowd of people milling about Independence Hall. Martin repositioned the backpack over his shoulder and waited for the light to change.

During the past year Martin began noticing a change in Stuart. First, it was the eye rolls when he did not understand a pop culture reference or off-color joke. That