Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Promptings from Valhalla - 17. Masked
Sparks flew from the spinning whetstone as the battered metal of his favorite blade was restored to its former glory. Malachi loved the screeching sound the metal produced as the stone ground away flecks of oxidation and blood. This was his form of meditation. The rhythm of his foot operating the pedal of the old-fashioned wooden frame, along with the spinning stone, were almost hypnotic. It allowed Malachi to re-live the experience of his first guest.
He grinned, his laugh lines causing a brick-red flake to float to the ground like an autumn leaf. His first guest had been an appetizer, honing his desires like the stone that spun underneath the now-shiny blade. He lifted his foot off the pedal and swiveled his chair away from the decelerating whetstone. Moonlight glinted off the mirror-like sheen of the newly-sharpened edge. Malachi placed the blade on his forearm and removed it. Blood immediately welled up in the small furrow the sharp instrument produced. Perfection. He was ready for his second guest.
Bright lights drew Malachi’s attention out the second story window. A surge of desire and anticipation caused him to rise from his seat and lean against the crumbling wood lining the lead glass panes. His black jeans felt slightly uncomfortable as he watched Guest #2 emerge from his burnt-orange SUV.
He had invited five guests to tour his haunted house, each scheduled to arrive in two hour intervals. Plenty of time to have his fun and prepare each guest’s unique experience. Malachi rubbed the front of his jeans and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He licked away the coppery substance and stifled a moan. He’d been waiting five years for this moment. Five years of listening to Eddie Olsen prattle on about the stupidity of Halloween and the idiots who pretended to be scared at ‘fake-ass haunted houses’.
Eddie Olsen was Malachi’s supervisor at a national chain electronics store. Malachi normally didn’t invite guests that could be connected to him personally, but he made an exception in Eddie’s case. Eddie wasn’t just arrogant about Halloween—he was arrogant. Period. And not a very good supervisor. Malachi thought it was time to teach Eddie a lesson. Besides, he was tired of working at the electronics store. It was time to move on.
The sound of the protesting squeak of the rusted front door hinges travelled up the curving staircase and through the open door of the room Malachi currently occupied, alerting him to the fact his latest guest had entered the dilapidated building. He lowered the white, plastic mask from his head, covering his face. He liked the contrast of the alabaster plastic against his jet-black clothing. In the darkened house, the stark white made him appear to be a disembodied head.
Malachi loved seeing the realizations flit across his guests’ faces when they first saw him. At first they wondered what contraption the fake head was floating on. Then they would see that it was real, but couldn’t read the emotions or intent on his concealed face. By that point it, was too late for them to react when he’d reveal his prized possession.
“Hello? Is anyone here?” Eddie’s voice was loud and steady.
Malachi slid silently out the door and stood with his back alongside the wall. He had a clear view down to the foyer from the balcony he stood on. Eddie walked forward a few steps, waving his arms in front of him. His eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet. He yelped when he tripped and stumbled forward, windmilling his arms to maintain his balance as his feet almost slid out from underneath him.
“What the fuck?” Eddie fumbled in his pocket, then the interior of the foyer was revealed in a burst of light from the flashlight app on his iPhone. He highlighted the area where he had slid, revealing a red skid mark trailing out from a larger pool of dark red liquid. The source appeared to be a severed leg.
Eddie moved toward the limb, which was Caucasian flecked with dark hair. A man’s leg. He poked it with his toe, then jumped back. “Damn… that looks real! OK. Whoever sent me that invitation can come out now. This is stupid. I know you’re just trying to scare me!” His voice now contained a slight tremor.
Malachi chuckled. That sure didn’t take long. Where was the arrogant bluster his stupid supervisor was famous for? He laughed—a low, malevolent sound designed to let his guests know they weren’t alone.
“Who… who’s there?” The tremor was much more prevalent now.
Malachi reached around the doorframe and flicked a switch. A loud click sounded from the front door, prompting Eddie to swirl around. He strode to the door and tried the knob, to no avail.
“Ha. Ha. All right, so now I’m stuck here. What do you want with me?”
Malachi strode methodically across the balcony, making sure each footfall resounded through the old house.
Eddie held his phone up in the direction of the balcony, but the light was too weak to penetrate the blackness. “So you want me upstairs, huh? Well, I’m not going to play your game.”
Malachi grinned. Eddie’s reactions were exactly as he had predicted. After his supervisor passed the stairway, heading toward the kitchen, Malachi descended the stairs. He knew where to place his foot on each stair to ensure he maintained his stealth.
A loud metallic clatter and high-pitched shriek told him that Eddie had discovered the kitchen. Or, more precisely, what Mal had left on the stove in the kitchen.
“I don’t know who you are, but you are one sick freak, you know that?” Eddie shouted. “This isn’t funny anymore. I’m outta here.”
“What’s wrong, Eddie? You don’t like what I prepared for dinner?” Malachi asked.
Eddie whirled around and held up his phone like a weapon. “Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?”
Malachi stepped forward, prompting Eddie to take a step back. He picked up a wooden spoon from the counter and stirred the contents of the pot on the stove, then removed the spoon and brought it to his mouth. “Not everyone has the stomach for offal.”
“That… there’s… that… there’s a human head in there!” Eddie’s voice was now full of fear, confirmed by the way the light moved back and forth due to the tremors wracking his hand. “It looks like—” Eddie gulped. “—it looks like Mike. This is not funny!”
Malachi laughed. He hadn’t expected Eddie to crack immediately, or to recognize their co-worker so soon. “You didn’t think you were the only one to receive an invitation, did you?” He clicked his tongue. “Your arrogance really knows no bounds, does it?”
“Oh my God… this is real, isn’t it?” Eddie whispered.
Malachi held his machete in front of him, tapping the dull end on his other hand. “You tell me, Mr. Know-it-All.”
“Your voice sounds familiar…” Eddie stated. His face grew even paler in the illumination from his phone as his eyes widened. “Malachi?”
Malachi stopped the movement of the machete briefly, betraying his surprise at the other man’s recognition. “Huh. I didn’t think you had the time of day for me. Of course, now that you know my secret….” He stepped toward his former supervisor.
“What secret? That you like to put on haunted houses? Very realistic haunted houses,” Eddie stated, his voice rising in pitch as hysteria threatened to consume him.
Malachi laughed. “I expected more from you, you know. All your pomp and arrogance. I have to say this experience has been… underwhelming.”
“Under—well, sorry to disappoint you.”
“Hopefully my next three guests will be more…entertaining.”
“Three more…” Eddie gulped. “You mean—”
“Five per Halloween night for the past ten years. You’re number forty-seven.”
“Forty—” Eddie turned and ran toward the door at the rear of the kitchen. He made it about two strides before Malachi’s blade struck home. He screamed in agony, but somehow managed to make it out the door and stumble forward.
Malachi’s laughter echoed around him. “Go ahead and run. You won’t get far. Gives me time to prepare for number forty-eight.”
Eddie ran in a crooked line for another five hundred yards before collapsing. Malachi headed out to retrieve his guest. There was still time to have some fun before his next guest arrived.
- 11
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- 6
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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