Dark Monsters

By Zimbell House Publishing, Curtis & Janet Dewey, Daniel Tierney and 19 more

Remember the feeling that something was in your closet? That doll was possessed? That neighbor isn't quite what he/she seems? The creepy feeling down your spine? 
Monster’s aren’t always Human, but sometimes they are. 

Zimbell House Publishing is dedicated to helping new writers become quality authors.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zimbell House Publishing
• Release date: Jan 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781942818571

Zimbell House Publishing

Zimbell House Publishing is dedicated to promoting new writers. To enable us to do this, we create themed anthologies and send out a call for submissions. These calls are updated monthly, typically we have at least four months worth on our website at any given time. To see what we are working on next, please paste this link into your browser and save it to your bookmarks: http://zimbellhousepublishing.com/contest-submissions/ All submissions are vetted by our acquisitions team. By developing these anthologies, we can promote new writers to readers across the globe. We hope we've helped you find a new favorite to follow! Are you interested in helping a particular writer's career? Write a review and mention them by name. You can post reviews on our website, or through any retailer you purchased from.  Interested in becoming a published author? Check out our website for a look behind the scenes of what it takes to bring a manuscript to a published book. http://zimbellhousepublishing.com/publishing-services/process-behind-scenes/ We hope to hear from you soon.

Book preview

A Desolate Town I Can't Remember

Myles Paine

First it was the smell of smoke. Then the feeling of flames warming my skin, giving me refuge from the cold. Something in my sedated subconscious put two and two together and woke me from my deep, peaceful slumber.

My seatbelt was still tugged across my chest, but it was tighter than normal, cutting into my neck. I snapped my eyes open as I realized the fire was too close and saw it blazing on the other side of the windshield, right on the hood of my pickup truck.

It looked normal at first, for a vehicle on fire anyway, but I quickly sensed something strange. The flames fought to return back to the melting metal, didn't want to leave what should have been the safety of the vehicle. My clothes were pulling upwards from my body, my body lifting upwards from the driver's seat. It took a few moments to realize my truck was resting upside down in a meadow of freshly fallen snow. And it was on fire.

I scrambled to undo my seatbelt and threw an arm over my face as I fell onto the ceiling of the truck cab. The heat from the flames grew more powerful, and the frosty breath that let loose from my lips mixed with the smoke that seeped into the vehicle. The plume trailing through the air vents was a murderous attempt to suffocate me, to seek revenge on the driver who somehow managed to maneuver the truck into its unnatural grave.

Not wanting this to be my own final resting place, I tugged at the door handle and pushed, but it didn't budge. I lunged to the opposite side of the cab and tried the same there, spotting the white line of snow that crossed the horizon of the window. I coughed, unable to keep the billowing smoke from entering my throat, and climbed around the seats looming over me to the back window, covering my mouth with the sleeve of my jacket to filter the air. I needed to escape before I choked to death.

The glass hatch slid to the side and I gulped in the clean, crisp oxygen. The window wouldn't move over more than a couple of inches though, and after a short struggle, I gave up, rolled around, and kicked at it with all the might I could muster. Once, twice, three times, until the window shattered, leaving a jagged edged path to safety.

I crawled through, knocking away the staggered shards of glass left behind in the window frame. The bed of the trunk was sunk deep in the snow and I had to dig out a tunnel towards the narrow beam of light that broached one corner of the artificial cavern. Finally, I was free from the truck, my layered clothes, hat, and gloves giving me small shelter from the continuing snowstorm. I set out through the white forest in front of me, looking back one last time at the inferno I was leaving behind.

I walked and tried to remember. My name. Where I was from. Where I'd been driving to before my vehicle ended up flap-jacked in the frozen field. I couldn't recall any of it. With each step, my boots and jeans sunk into the snow, up almost to my knees. I didn't know what scared me more, not knowing where I was headed, or my failure to recollect anything about myself prior to waking up in that flame engulfed carcass of a truck.

I trudged through the pine trees towering above me, silent sentinels watching my journey with disapproving peaks and stoic branches that sprinkled handfuls of snow on me as I passed. The cold gnawed at my skin through the wet and raw fabric of my jeans. The cloudy gray sky dimmed darker, and after a time, the soaked parts of my pants began to freeze. A sharp, icy feeling spread across my chaffed legs, a surface pain that also bit at my lips and cheeks. It was getting harder to push forward through the frosty wilderness when I saw a distant light break through the dusk, teasing me through the swarm of pines.

Hope heated the cold, cancerous despair that grew over my heart, and it was enough to keep me going, to take step after step as salvation crept closer and closer. I lumbered out of the tree line and saw the ghost town that sprawled out before me, dead quiet and quaint. The main street, smothered by the snow, stretched out from the forest into the center of the small city. The street and sidewalks, rooftops, even some of the windows were covered in white from the blizzard. The layer of snow on the street wasn't as thick, and a loud crunch began to sound out beneath my feet as I walked through the town.

I tried to call out for help, but my throat was dry, swollen and frozen. All I could mutter was a dull and raspy, Hhhh.

I gulped down what little saliva formed under my tongue, lubricating my vocal cords as much as possible.

Hello? I said.

But it was still barely audible. The light I had seen from among the trees came from the street lamps lining the sidewalks. I saw nothing else. No light inside the buildings, only pockets of black that watched me from within the windows.

I called out again, able to raise my voice louder this time, into a shrill yell for help.

Hello?

There was nothing. No lights turned on, no movement, no sound aside from my heart pounding in desperation. I stood still, waiting for anything. Was anyone here in this vacuum of a ghost town?

Then there was a noise. Quiet, but growing louder. A soft scratching creeping up behind me. I twisted my head in its direction. Something crawled across the snow towards my feet, arms bent outward in an unnatural way, legs scraping along behind it. I couldn't move, stopped in its horrifying hypnosis, forced to watch its pale flesh slither closer. Twenty feet away. Ten feet.

It's bare skin looked human, but nothing else about it was familiar. No hair on its body, nothing where its eyes should have been, the sockets scarred shut in two slits on its face. It had no nose, just a flat arc of flesh protruding down through the slivers of eyes to its vicious snarl. A shriek cast out from between its jagged teeth, piercing the quiet as the creature stopped crawling to continue its scream. It was unlike any sound I'd ever heard before, a howl that kept me paralyzed on the snowy street.

My trance was broken by hands that clawed at me from my left, arms grabbing around my chest and pulling to the side, through a doorway into the nearby brick building. I toppled onto my captor and legs kicked at the glass door we had fallen through, slamming it shut on the horror outside.

I turned and looked at the person I was resting on. It was a girl, a teenager, an angel with a finger to her lips, urging me to stay silent.

The creature screeched again, right outside the door. The sound vibrated through my body, cut through my skin to tear at my nerves. It lunged at the door, grasping onto the glass with its deformed palms, and the girl's arms tugged tighter around my stomach to keep me still.

The next scream triggered something in my brain. A memory.

I was driving the truck I had just awakened in, windshield wipers shifting furiously back and forth, swatting away the snow that pelted the glass. I sped through the blizzard until something in the road made me spin the wheel to the right. The truck swerved, slid off the road, and rolled downhill through powder and pine trees.

It was another one of those humanoid horrors that had been in the way and had run me involuntarily off-road.

The monster's sonic cries finally silenced. Giving up on me and the girl, it dropped down to the ground and crawled off to the side, out of view. After a few moments, the girl lying beneath me pushed on my back and I rolled off of her. She stood, and motioned for me to follow as she went through another door and up the stairs hidden behind it.

It's safe to talk up here, she said, leading me into a small room on the second floor. Not too loud, though. They're attracted to noise.

Her thin brown hair fell straight on her shoulders and down her back, the top capped by a thick wool hat. The girl burrowed into her coat, pulling the edges of the collar to better cover her neck and chin. It was as cold in there as it had been outside.

What are they? I said.

She crouched to the floor, lifting a blanket to reveal a mound of scorched boxes, shards of wood broken off of flooring and furniture, and charred newspaper.

Don't know. Showed up a month ago and started attacking people. Everyone fled.

The girl pulled a box of matches out of her coat pocket, struck one along the side of it, and dropped the burning match on the stack.

Well, everyone that didn't get eaten, she said.

The fire warmed me as the kindling caught, and the blaze grew bigger, but I noticed the smoke starting to fill the room.

Is this safe? I asked as she turned her back to the flames.

Walking away, she tilted her face to give me a sideways smirk and reached out to the nearby window. With a grunt, she pushed up on the window frame, opening a small space in the wall, and did the same to the window next to it. The smoke funneled towards her, mystical wisps stretching out into the freezing black of night.

The girl sat down cross-legged in front of the fire, reaching out to warm her gloved hands, and I lowered down to sit across from her.

Who are you? I said. Why didn't you leave with the others?

I'm Katharine, she said, staring into the crackling orange flames. I don't have anywhere to go. I ran away from home two years ago. Ended up here not long after when I ran out of money. Mrs. Cooper said I either had to stop begging for food and cash in front of the store downstairs or start working for her. So I stayed and worked.

Where's Mrs. Cooper?

Katharine didn't answer. The flames' shadows flickered across her face as her eyes softened in grief, then narrowed in anger. She snapped her stare up at me.

And who are you? She asked.

It was my turn to watch the blaze before us in silence.

I don't know, I said, shaking my head. I can't remember.

Her eyebrows lifted in curious confusion.

I woke up not too far from here, through the woods, at the bottom of the hill my truck rolled down. I don't really remember anything before the crash.

Nodding her head slowly in understanding, Katharine said, Then I guess neither one of us has anywhere to go tonight.

She crossed the room to a corner and rummaged through a couple of cardboard boxes, then returned with two tin containers and a can opener. She tossed one of the cans at me, harder than I expected, and I snapped my hands up to catch it before it smacked me in the chest. I rolled the small tube of metal in my fingers. The can had no label. I brushed the ridges along the side of it with the fingertips of my gloves until she spoke again.

Here, said Katharine as she threw me the opener.

I caught it and went to work on the lid of the can. The opener was rusty, most of the surface a dirty crimson rather than the cool silver it should have been. The muscle I had to put into twisting the gears made me aware of how fatigued I had gotten and the smell that leaked through the opening I created in the can made me realize how hungry I was as well. The lid popped off of the edges and sunk down on one side to reveal the dinner waiting for me underneath. Creamed corn.

I dug out the lid and grinned across the fire at Katharine. She smiled back as she shoveled forkfuls of something green into her mouth.

You've been living like this for a month? I asked in between scoops of corn.

Not the whole time. Had to stop using electricity after I realized it made them scream more. They wouldn't stop until it was off, and they still aren't crazy about the street lights staying on all night.

I looked around the room for a bed. Where do you sleep?

Instead of answering, she picked up the blanket that had been covering the rubble, walked around the fire and tossed it at my feet. As she crossed back to the other side, a screech sounded from the distance. It wasn't close, but still terrifying.

Katharine lay down on the floor and hugged her arms to her chest.

Goodnight, she said.

There were still a few bits of corn left in my can. I quietly finished my meal and laid down as well, wrapping myself in the smoke-scented blanket. My racing mind kept me from falling asleep. Nothing about this whole situation seemed real, like I was already dreaming, trapped in a nightmare. Minutes turned to hours until Katharine's light snoring broke through my reeling thoughts. I looked over and noticed the girl had never gotten a blanket for herself.

I peeled mine off my body and tiptoed around the fire to cover her with the cloth, gently tucking it into her sides. The brutal cold filtered through the open windows, but I did my best to ignore it, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

PUFFS OF SOOT FLEW to my nostrils and I inhaled, waking up to choking coughs. My back and body felt sore from the unfamiliar, hard floor I was laying on. Light poured into the strange room and I lifted an arm to shield the sun so I could get a better look at it.

A girl stood a few feet away in the center of the room, trying to snuff out a dwindling fire with a small gray blanket.

I slept too late, she said, noticing I was awake. We need to put the fire out. Their senses are better during the day. They'll know we're up here.

I scrambled back from her, crawling away as my eyes ticked around the room, wild and frantic. I had no clue who this girl was, where I was, how I got here. What she was talking about. She stopped and watched me.

What's wrong? she said.

I kept crab-crawling back until I hit the wall and reached up a hand to feel it, to make sure it was really there, that I wasn't dreaming.

Who-who are you? I managed to say.

The girl looked confused for a moment, her body tense, then relaxed as grim realization passed through her. You don't remember.

Remember what? I said, my gasping questions turning into shouts. What happened to me?

Quiet! She said. I could sense the girl wanted to yell back, but her command came out as a sharp, clenched whisper. They'll hear you!

Who?  Who will?

Before she could answer, something crashed through one of the windows along the opposite wall of the room. Plopping on the floor in a tangle of inhuman flesh and bone, the creature screeched at us. The loud scream terrified me, boiling my blood, making it feel as if it was about to pop through my skin.

I stayed attached to the wall, praying the monster wouldn't see me, but the girl sprinted over and clamped a glove around my forearm.

Run! she said.

The girl dragged me to an open window on our left and pushed me through. I panicked, expecting to plummet to my death, but after only a couple of feet, my shoulder slammed into the roof of the building next door. She ran past me, kicking up snow, and I looked from her back to the window, now occupied by our attacker's toothy maw. Its screams continued, but I soon heard another, and a second creature prowled over the apex of the roof, joining in soulless serenade with its brother.

I forced myself to my feet and chased after the girl. She hopped onto the next roof and I paused as I reached the edge, wary of the space between the buildings. The screams to my rear pushed me forward and I leaped across the small chasm, but my feet slid in the snow as I launched into the air. My chest hit the rim of the opposite roof, knocking the wind out of me as I flailed to grab onto snow and shingles. I tried to call for the girl, but I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. I glanced down through my dangling legs to see another of the creatures below me in the alley, chomping at my feet in between screams.

Help! I was finally able to yell out.

The girl turned back, saw me struggling, and raced to my aid. Huffing at my weight, she pulled on my arms until I was able to climb up and stand. Her eyes widened in fear as she saw what was behind me.

Let's go, she said.

We'd only crossed a small section of the roof when the building beneath us began to shake, and a thunderous rumble growled somewhere below. I dropped to a knee, trying to steady myself, but the girl grabbed my coat sleeve and pulled me back up.

It's all right. It's been doing this every few days, she said. It'll stop after a little bit.

But it didn't. As we tried to continue, the trembling worsened and my feet were jerked out from under me. My shoulder hit the snow covered shingles and I cried out as I slid. Down the angled decline, past the girl's outreached hand, past the gutter outlining the roof.

My back plowed into the snowy ground first, then my head snapped down. A searing pain spread across my skull for an instant before the blinding arctic white of the world flashed to black.

I OPENED MY EYES TO a girl leaning over me, shouting at me to wake up, and I recognized her. I remembered the morning, the previous night after my accident, but nothing before. Except her face. I saw it somewhere else, on a wall filled with other faces. Missing children. This place was where I worked, and I'd been looking for them all.

Fate had brought me here to one of them, but all I could remember was a name. Her real name.

Margo.

Her confusion showed only for a second.

Get up! she cried.

One of the monsters jumped from the roof onto her back. Clutching her shoulders, it bit at her head and yanked backward, tumbling away a few feet with only the girl's hat locked in its grisly razor grin. The underground rumbling turned to cracking as the street before us opened up, and black fissures split through the snow and earth. Frosty plumes of dust were flung upwards, and the cracks grew wider as the noise got louder. The creature plunged out of sight with a whine, sucked down into one of the openings.

But as fast as it had vanished, a hand popped over the side of the crevice, fingers forcefully grasping the thick layer of snow. The demon was quickly replaced by others, crawling from the hole that had opened for their escape from hell.

There were four, then eight, with more hands clawing over the edge to the surface. They prowled toward us, slow, in no hurry to pounce their prey. The girl, Margo, was frozen in fear.

We have to get out of here, I said, straining to sound calmer than I was for the girl's sake. We need to find a car.

This way, said Margo, breaking her trance.

We hurried from the horde of monsters, their screams rising in unison to a deafening decibel as they realized we were on the run. I rushed through the snow, trailing Margo through side streets and alleys. She slowed as we broke free from the polar jungle of small suburban houses. A field of vehicles sprawled out in front of us, row after row of cars, all coated in a blanket of snow. At the center was a small square building, topped with a faded sign reaching upwards to the sky that read DeRita's Used Cars. I could see a piece of plain white paper roughly taped to the inside of the door to the building. Scrawled across it in thick markered letters was a single word: closed. I grabbed the metal door handle and tried to turn it, but it was locked.

There might be keys in one of the cars, I said, jogging towards the closest vehicle.

Margo didn't do the same. She picked up the metal trash can sitting outside the building, struggling with the weight of it, and launched it at the large window spread out alongside the door. The glass shattered and Margo climbed inside. In awe of her tenacity and resourcefulness, I followed behind her.

The tiny front lobby was pristine. Four red plastic chairs lined the wall next to the main counter. They were ghostly, empty seats that whispered abandonment, mirroring the cold desolation of the town just outside the walls. We walked past them, to the door behind the front desk, trying to keep as quiet as possible so we could hear signs of something approaching outside, or of something waiting for us in the depths of the back rooms. The door wasn't locked, and Margo slowly pushed it open. It's creaking hinges pierced through the silence. She paused to look back at me, listening for something to react to her movement, but there was nothing. I nodded at her to continue.

Sunlight drifted in through a window at the back of the hallway, guiding our cautious footsteps to the first door. Margo stepped aside, hesitant to be the one to open it. I turned the knob and nudged against the wood, just enough to let the light from the hall flood through the opening. I peered inside. Just an empty office. Two desks sat on opposite sides of the room, paper strewn carelessly across one, the other kept neat and clean. I turned back to Margo and shook my head. Nothing of use for us in there.

The next door was further down the hallway, and I couldn't help but grimace at the loud sound that rang out each time we stepped forward and our feet clattered against the hardwood flooring. I pushed open this door and was relieved to see what was waiting for us behind it. Keys were strung on hooks along the wall, hanging in a grid from top to bottom. I grabbed a few with power lock key fobs and we fled back down the hall, in a hurry to reenter a more familiar setting. We made our way back outside, bypassing the broken glass and unlocking the front door to exit through there.

I pounded my thumb on the unlock button on the first set of keys. A truck on the far side of the lot beeped its horn and flashed its headlights at us. There were no creatures in sight, but their shrieks could still be heard across town. They weren't far away.

I tried to brush snow off the windshield with my sleeve, as Margo opened the passenger door.

Start it up. Turn on the heat. I said, throwing her the keys.

Constantly looking around for any of the creatures, I wiped as much snow off the truck as I could. I still saw no sign of them, but now I didn't hear them either. It was too quiet, no sound but the purring of our escape vehicle's motor. The silence set an uneasy feeling in my stomach as I got behind the steering wheel and shut the door next to me, gratefully noticing the needle on the gas tank gauge lingering by the large F.

I looked at Margo, out of breath from my snow removal, and said, Well...I'm back...in a truck again.

Seatbelt, was all she replied.

I nodded and pulled it over my shoulder, but the click I was expecting as I inserted the metal tip was replaced by a loud thump on the windshield. Margo's scream was also drowned out by the cry of the creature clutched to the glass in front of us. I put the truck in gear and sped out of its parking spot, fishtailing through the rows of deserted cars. The monster didn't move, and I could barely see around its mound of pale flesh.

I drove as fast as I could, trying to slalom through the snowy streets and knock it off, but it was glued to the truck like a fly caught in a trap. Except Margo and I were the ones who were trapped.

The monster teased us with its screams as I sped up and spun around a corner of an intersection. I twisted the wheel, swerving the truck in an attempt to fling it to the side.

Get it off! Margo said, gripping her seatbelt.

I'm trying! I shouted back.

After straightening our path, I pushed my foot down on the gas pedal, then slammed it on the brake. The creature tumbled off the front of the vehicle, and I accelerated again to drive over it, the truck bouncing up twice as each set of wheels crossed over its body.

We left it behind, our roadkill and all the other creatures, as Margo guided me to the main road out of that infernal town. Relief hit me as we drove away in silence, not stopping as the sunny blue sky softened into a serene orange sunset blocked out by the hills and forest that surrounded us.

Margo was the first to speak. How did you know my real name?

I paused before answering as I tried to churn through my inhibited brain for the right memories. But I couldn't find them.

I'm not sure. I just know, I said. I think I may have been looking for you.

She stared out the window, watching the dim line of trees sweep by us, and softly said, I didn't think anyone would be looking for me.

We fell quiet again as I flipped on the truck's headlights, but the silence made me uncomfortable. I had to keep talking.

Why Katharine? I asked.

The question saddened the girl, as if thinking about the answer triggered an inner turmoil and a life she'd intentionally left behind was brought to consciousness.

Katharine Hepburn, said Margo. The African Queen was my mother's favorite movie.

Is, I said. She misses you.

How do you know that?

I nodded, positive of the feelings that filled my instincts, however, unsure of where they came from.

I just do.

I sensed her body relax into the seat as she found comfort in my words.

Maybe it's time to go home, she said.

Home, I echoed, the word pricking at a blank spot in my memory. Let's go while the going's good.

I wasn't sure where the phrase came from, or the exact meaning behind it. The words just surfaced to my thoughts and I spoke them as Margo looked at me with a smile in her eyes. They meant something to her.

I smiled back, and we drove. Into the darkness. Into the cold. My future as unknown to me as my past.

A Miscarriage Divine

Mark F. Bailey

The spirits claimed Aya’s child just before sunset. Their presence dimmed an already darkened birthing hut, casting chill shadows that had little to do with the fire burning in a pit behind me. Consigning her to the realm of the dead, I finished the spell and cut the cord. No longer struggling against her living tether, the spirits drew her back to their dark domain.

When Aya saw the unmoving form I cradled, she reached out to take it from me. Surprised, but needing a few moments to prepare myself for what would come next, I gave the tiny body over to her while I gathered up my belongings for the journey.

Most wanted nothing to do with a child that could not endure its birthing; a belief that a child too weak to survive was better off having never lived at all. As I packed away my simples, knives, and amulets, Aya – her young face stained with lines of exhausted grief – touched the cheek of the daughter she would never raise. Perhaps the unusual attachment was due to this being only her second stillborn.

My thoughts were not, however, on Aya’s uncustomary reaction to the loss of her girl-child. Instead, they were on the guilt that nearly caused me to drop the cord knife. I caught it just in time, but not before it left a small cut on my palm. I stared at the blood welling up from the wound.

There was a time when I would have done everything to see a child take its first breath. With words as old as ice, my song would have carried far and wide – on this plane and in the next – rising and falling like the sun, moon and stars, as ever-changing as the winds. I would have beseeched the gods until my voice was gone. I would have begged them to bless another birthing into this world. But had the gods any part in this tragedy at all?  I knew in my heart the answer to that terrible question.

Wrall, the child’s father, quietly stood by the entrance to the birthing hut. When I was ready to take my leave, he turned from me. I took the small form from Aya, now asleep, and made my exit.

Wrapped in furs to fight the bitter cold, I stepped out into the frigid twilight. The men and women that had gathered in anticipation turned their backs on me now. Even the chieftain, Gautrek, averted his gaze. His youngest mate could give birth at any time and he would not risk the sight of me.

To look into a Seer's eyes while she carries the lifeless to the EverCold was to bring the unwanted attention of the gods. But if this child had any hope of joining her ancestors, then her flesh must soon follow her spirit. Since the First Snow, the tribe’s Seers had been completing this task by casting their stillborn children from the Howling Cliffs. Small broken bodies in countless numbers littered the rocks below; frozen and trapped in eternal ice.

I made as though to go there; my feet crunching through the snow, as I left the winter camp and headed west. But I wasn't going to the cliffs. I wasn't even a Seer. Though I lived among them and performed their strange rites, I was no more of their tribe than I was of their prolific kind.

Gautrek had seen to it that I was the last of mine. He and his spear-sons, their faces painted with white masks of death, had one night come creeping into the caves of my people and let the spirits take them. With bone knives and a lust for blood, they killed the men and children