Chocolate-Covered Eyes: A Sampler Of Horror

By Lori R. Lopez

Zombies, ghosts, an abused homicidal feline, an ear devil and other creeps abound — haunting an amusement park, possessing a windmill, opening a gate to the Inferno . . . This horror sampler of six uniquely eerie tales is prefaced by the titular poem “Chocolate-Covered Eyes”. Beware of strangers offering candy. Or take a bite out of fright. You know you can’t resist!

Can the living and the undead co-exist in peace? A zombie defender must question his principles when a hunter becomes infected by the zombie plague and threatens the boy's mother in "Heartbeat".

Would the tormented pet of a psycho, after witnessing countless abominations, begin to exhibit disturbing behavior? Find out in "Unleashed".

"Beyond The Stump" is the dark harrowing tale of a young woman who must assume her mother's role of Gatekeeper.

"Nuance" unfolds the humorously poignant Cinderfella tale of a spooky carnival and a misfit who discovers the truth behind his sorry circumstances.

"Bedeviled" reveals a trail of madness featuring a parasitic ear sprite that causes folks to go berserk and the likable loons who try to halt his wacky head trip.

In "Macabre", a young woman confronts her darkest fears in the specter of a decrepit windmill possessed by The Night Frights.

The print edition contains original artwork by the author.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lori R. Lopez
• Release date: Oct 29, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465824721

Lori R. Lopez

Lori R. Lopez wears many hats as an Author and Speculative Poet of Horror, Fantasy, Suspense, Humor and more. She illustrates her books and has written songs, while being an Activist for animals and children. Growing up, Lori roamed graveyards and conducted funerals for dead birds, squirrels, insects and spiders. Her offbeat books include The Dark Mister Snark, Leery Lane, An Ill Wind Blows, Darkverse: The Shadow Hours, Odds & Ends, and The Fairy Fly. In 2023 Lori won Third Place in the Long Category for the SFPA Poetry Contest for "Wake Unto Death". Her Poetry Collection Darkverse was nominated for an Elgin Award and a Finalist in the Kindle Book Awards. Her poems "Crop Circles" and "Nocturnal Embers" were nominated for the Rhysling Award in 2020, "Social Graces" and "The Whistle Stop" in 2021, "Biting Sarcasm" in 2022, "The Whippoorwill" and "If Houses Could Talk" in 2023. Poems "The Maw" and "creatures of the macabre" received Editor's Choice Awards among other honors. Stories and verse have appeared in The Sirens Call, The Horror Zine, Space & Time, Spectral Realms, JOURN-E, Weirdbook, Bewildering Stories, Dreams & Nightmares, Impspired, Altered Reality, Aphelion, and anthologies such as California Screamin' (the Foreword Poem), HWA Poetry Showcases II, III, V, VI, and IX, Journals Of Horror, Grey Matter Monsters, Dead Harvest, Fearful Fathoms I, Terror Train I and II, Trickster's Treats #3, Speculations III (Weird Poets Society), and In Darkness We Play. A member of the Horror Writers Association, Science Fiction & Fantasy Poetry Association, and Lewis Carroll Society Of North America. Visit the Fairy Fly Entertainment Website Lori shares with her two talented sons, and their YouTube Channel @FairyFly. They have a Folk Band called The Fairyflies.

Book preview

Chocolate-Covered Eyes

A Sampler Of Horror

by Lori R. Lopez

Fairy Fly Entertainment

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any

media without written permission from the author, except

brief excerpts in critical reviews and articles.

This is a work of fiction. Any and all references to real persons, events, and places are used fictitiously. Other characters, names, places, events and details are fabrications of the author’s imagination; any such resemblance to actual places, events or persons, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2011 by Lori R. Lopez

Artwork by Lori R. Lopez

Cover Design by Fairy Fly Entertainment

Author Photos by Fairy Fly Entertainment

E-Book Edition (EPUB)

Table Of Contents

Chocolate-Covered Eyes

Table Of Contents

Chocolate-Covered Eyes

HEARTBEAT

Nuance

Unleashed: Tail One

Beyond The Stump

BEDEVILED

Macabre

Sample Illustration

About the author and artist

More works by Lori R. Lopez

Death is like a box of chocolates. Lori R. Lopez will tingle your spine while tickling your funny bone in short stories from two of her collections: OUT-OF-MIND EXPERIENCES and THE MACABRE MIND OF LORI R. LOPEZ. Zombies, ghosts, an abused homicidal feline, an ear devil and other creeps abound — haunting an amusement park, possessing a windmill, opening a gate to the Inferno . . . This horror sampler of six uniquely eerie tales is prefaced by the titular poem Chocolate-Covered Eyes. Beware of strangers offering candy. Or take a bite out of fright. You know you can’t resist!

For Jennifer and Tommy Thomas

who saw so much in it . . .

Special thanks to

author Jerry W. McKinney

for suggesting I release

a short collection of horror

as my first E-book.

Chocolate-Covered Eyes

Coarse bitter wind swirled around my form

As I crunched toward the end of a leafened lane,

Where mournful specters could screech and swarm

Like banshee breeze o’er a desolate plain.

But this was no realm to which spirits might flock.

I had less than the ghost of a chance to survive.

Angry and sullen, lifeless as rock,

Like a tomb the gray manor left no cheer alive.

For there on cursed ground could the brave die of fright,

Midst a plot of land where the Sun feared to shine

And daylight beheld as the darkest of night.

Upon entering that door I had crossed every line.

No more could I breathe without feeling a hitch

In my chest and my pulse, a quickening sob.

No more would my innocent gaze lack a twitch.

I had forfeited youth with a turn of the knob.

Friends begged me Don’t go! but I always knew best.

I thought the trespassing would prove to be fun.

Instead I’m a wreck from a foolhardy quest.

Let my epitaph read I surrendered to none.

Pride can be folly in the course of disaster.

Beyond the threshold was too late to change.

That abandoned abode urged my heart to beat faster,

Then I came face to face with the tall Mister Strange —

Whose black beady orbs and thick brows made me gasp.

His hair was white tendrils, his nose a curved pick.

Stoop-shouldered and spindly, growled he in a rasp:

Step into my parlor, you look a bit sick!

He walked with a lurch and stood seven feet high,

With taloned fingers, a mouthful of rippers.

Despite his politeness, he was one scary guy

Who could seriously use heavy-duty nail clippers!

Please have a seat, I am not going to bite!

He bade with a chortle that caused hopes to sink.

I parked myself timidly, poised to take flight.

Name’s Romulus Strange! Can I get you a blink?

I assumed I heard wrong, that he offered a beverage,

For he spoke kinda weird with a sharp cluttered grin.

Every nerve was alert and I needed some leverage,

Accepting whatever, such a bind I was in!

There were candles that scarcely dented the gloom.

I sat stiffly, eyes wide, while he reached for a box.

It was red and well-faded, as old as the room.

The man carried it gently, unfastened its locks.

From within to my horror, he plucked out an eye

The size of a grapefruit then gave it a squeeze.

It was clear he intended to make the thing cry,

Splashing tears in two goblets with an elated wheeze.

The eye was alive! It still blinked in his hand!

Have a sip! he invited, one chalice extended.

Can’t say why I did so you might understand.

All I know is the taste left me very offended.

I spat it in fact, as if absent of manners,

Spewed right at his face, the reaction impassive;

My brain like a wedding with too many planners,

In a state of confusion, a headache quite massive.

It was then I would notice an eyeball-shaped clock.

Each shelf and ledge boasted a gaud of eye candy

That was literally eyes! I was plunged into shock.

The blinking and winking! The stares so outlandy!

His nose and chin dripping, my host simply goggled,

Blinking in unison with the roomful of peepers!

I was ready to scream, my mind truly boggled.

I had had it with terrors, was through with all creepers.

I was always too fearless, too bold and too daring.

At times how I scorned the misgivings of others.

I would never again be unkind or uncaring,

But I’d rather undo this if I had my druthers.

I don’t get many visitors, regretted the louse.

"Not even the mailman will venture near.

Folks seem to think the worst of my house.

I am really so happy to have you here."

I know what you’d like! hoarsed the oddly nice gent

And proceeded to extract a box out of a drawer.

I bet you’ve a sweet tooth! is what the man meant

And uncovered rows of treats that’d make a tooth sore.

Despite glaring qualms, there was no time to waste.

It should come as no mystery or colossal surprise,

When selecting and biting gooey morsels in haste,

That I’d gobbled an array of chocolate-covered eyes!

To this day I still shudder on spying a sampler

Of chocolates in cavities, their centers unknown,

For I nibbled them blindly — a foraging trampler.

Now my belly convulses, emitting a moan.

I discovered the truth in one blink of an orb,

As the rich coating shrugged being raised to my lips.

Wiping off the eye’s mantle, I was inclined to absorb

What I’ll never forget however long the heart skips.

Part Two: The Strange Mister Strange

It may flabbergast they who hear this bleak tale —

My dread-spilled confession, so harrowing wrung —

A grievous account of anguish and travail —

That I’d ever be willing to set foot or tongue . . .

Back over the division of unsafe and sorry,

A fine drape that separates conscious and aware.

The slim veils between three Acts of a story,

For here the heart skips toward the end in despair.

Yet the body must remain adhered to the Present

And forge past its fears at the risk of suicide;

A tormentous fate across the border of Unpleasant.

Pale and timid-toed, I strode swallowing inside.

Hello? The floor groaned. His door left ajar,

As if Strange were expecting a friendly intruder.

It’s me . . . are you home? The goon wouldn’t get far

Without being netted or something much ruder!

I’ve returned. Oh, that was abundantly clear

As I waited in panic and hoped for a reply.

The yowl I received a mere windred jeer . . .

Then a shadow descended. The question is why?

Quiverously astonished, I met his glower,

My throat tense and dry. It’s awful to see you.

The croak frank and honest, straight as a tower;

Blunter than a deluge in a forest of Bamboo.

That isn’t the point. His retort sounded keen,

A log hashed to shards by a mouthful of mincers.

Jagged as a sawblade. Acute as a chipping machine.

I demand a response. Please pardon my pincers.

The clack of clawed fingers sent a perturbing ripple

To tingle a spine lacking essence and backbone.

I fought a rigid impulse to warp or cripple —

Snap brittle as a twig with an excruciating tone.

My length normally peaked at six-feet-four;

The gaunt bogey’s height had a tendency to droop.

Déjà Vu. I peered into eyes that possessed zero core.

His poor posture would cause the mind to recoup . . .

Vacant of substance. The eyes bore no filling,

Like those in his box, centers hollow and chaste.

In framing the assortment, his motive was chilling,

For testing each orb led to a tragedy in taste!

Throughout the expanse of a lifetime thereafter,

The visits to therapists, a padded-cell retreat,

I never conjectured amid crazed bouts of laughter

What convinced me abruptly his chocolates to eat.

That riddle had robbed me of reason or protection.

Senselessly defenseless, my tale disbelieved;

A dupe for the crafty, a foil of confection,

The eye was my limit, and mine were deceived.

Echoing the voice of the gale at his whim,

I challenged a gruff query with a parallel Why?

No wool could he gather, no hedge could he trim.

Your chomping has tainted my entire supply!

The unstylish bon-vivant made further protest:

"Perhaps I was lonely. Why wouldn’t I submit

The finest of gifts to my most honored guest?

Your arrival brought delight to a twilight snit."

His jagged snarl flashed. The ogre’s wry smirk

Was nigh incandescent as Romulus accused

In the nocturnal dim: "And you behaved like a jerk.

Nipping, licking the pieces! You could’ve refused."

Am I to presume the horrid have feelings?

His charge lent a spark of brash intimidation.

I was done as a target for the devil’s double-dealings.

The vile Mister Strange scowled in vexation.

"That box was a treasure. A priceless rarity!

Hoarded and guarded. It was a collector’s item!

Coated with chocolate. Kept a lid on by me.

You were meant to marvel, not greedily bite ’em!"

Scoldish and gangly, the prodigious grump paced.

"A terrified demeanor. A shriek or a yelp . . .

Not selfishly mangling what cannot be replaced!

My evening was ruined by a reckless whelp!"

His diatribe went on: "Once again you look green.

Famished and ill. Have you come back for more?

The wisdom of ancients, what the wisest have seen

Doesn’t grow on a bush! It isn’t found in a store."

The sulker’s disgruntlement failed to appease

My appetite for vengeance, my search to heal,

And I couldn’t transform from a shaken quease,

A sight for strained orbs, in my latest ordeal.

Cringing in that room where the walls had eyes,

Where everything blinked, put me on the spot.

Conspicuous jitters had begun to arise

And I started to sweat. My temperature grew hot.

Was it something I ate? Is madness contagious?

The only clear notion as my heartbeat flounced —

No logic inhabits the zone of the outrageous!

Belly agurgle, my vision rolled and bounced.

Peripheries leered. A myriad of corners spectated.

Rug and ceiling wavered. My thin courage daunted,

I ignored the crimson atmosphere that palpitated,

Certain Mister Strange’s den was haunted.

The freak accosted me with probing queries.

Was I smarter? Did my grasp of History improve?

Could I see any better? The answer, "It varies.

Are you pondering if mine would be fit to remove?"

His heinous exhort: "Not to worry, dear sir.

You’ll love the glass marbles being exchanged.

Your view or your life! Either way I will ensure

The coffer as an Oracle — though possibly deranged."

He bowed to no audience’s round of applause.

A showman of the Curious and uncannily Grotesque.

First, let us partake of a dramatic pause . . .

The bent man proudly strutted to an antique desk.

Part Three: Inside The Box

Mister Strange pulled out a rectangular container

That inspired a tiny yip to escape my yap.

Displaying the grim sepulcher’s cubic retainer,

Hunched over, he compared it to a Venus Fly Trap.

Then made a grand speech in regards to its vault.

Death is like a box of chocolates, he opined,

"For you really never know who might be at fault.

Or what you’ll end up with. The good or bad kind."

This struck me as macabre, a morbid thing to say.

Every death is unfortunate and should be lamented.

"Not exactly. There are those that are actually okay.

It depends on your perspective. Mine is demented!"

I hurled an abundantly incredulous expression.

The bizarre fellow vainly wiggled his brows . . .

"My job is a solitary and thankless profession.

Try not to judge lest you climb the same boughs."

This isn’t a tree, it’s the lair of a loon! A valid claim.

"Birds of a feather! Weep if you wish for the departed.

You’ll not wring a drop of sympathy or shame."

The tyrant’s flinty soul did appear granite-hearted.

A glib Keeper detailed, "These half-moons uneaten,

Residing in shambled condition, are ladies and men.

Multicultural, ageless, of many races. I was no cretin,

I did not discriminate. I chose the best from back then."

Fifteen in all were glazed. An uneven number