Thursday, November 2, 2017

Story 210: Oblivia Starring In: One More Halloween Story


            It was a dark and stormy night on the television as Oblivia tried to get caught up in the thrills and chills of the scary movie she was watching:
           Careful as we go down this incredibly long and dark hallway – Creepy Ghost Killer could jump out all over us at any moment.
            Right, but I forget, is he “Creepy Ghost Killer” because he was a killer even before he was a ghost, or because he became a ghost and then started the killing, or because he kills our “geist,” which can mean “ghost” but also can mean “spirit of” –
            Creepy-Ghost-Killler-away! [Squish!  Splat!]
            Guess… all that… is academic… now… bluuuurggghhh….
           Hm – Oblivia thought to herself – why are all horror movies either gross or bland to me?  Why can’t I find one that actually feels SPOOKY?
            She stuck it out to the gruesome and unresolved finale, then shut off the TV with a sigh.  Yet another Halloween, unscared.
            She trudged to the bedroom in her bunny slippers and went to sleep, sneaking in a piece of candy so the evening would not go completely unmarked….
          Walking down a leaf-strewn road under a grey sky – I don’t know where I’m going or where I came from.
        The wind gently blows open the door to an empty barn.
        No birds are singing.
        Something is following me.
        Something is waiting for me.
        Something is in the woods – I can feel its eyes watching.
        I keep walking because I don’t know what else to do.
        The sky darkens and I feel so alone.
        A figure reaches out towards me: it is my own Mortality.
        I cannot escape, but I run.
        I am caught by the Inevitability of Time!
            Oblivia awoke to her alarm clock buzzing.  She now had to go to her unfulfilling job: between that and the dream, she could not decide which was more existentially depressing.
            Happy Halloween?

Wednesday, October 25, 2017

Story 209: Baby Doll, the Demon, and Me



(Based on a recent dream rather than a true story)

            So I had it coming: I had been nagging my friends for months that this Halloween, I wanted to be really scared.  No chainless chainsaws, no battery-operated torture chambers, no latex severed heads – I wanted actual fear.  Without actual peril, of course; I’m not completely stupid.
            To shut me up, they found a place advertised as the scariest haunted house in the whole world, which was saying something: the whole country, I could see them getting away with that claim, but the whole world?  Some might have words about that.
            We flew out to where the house was because we’re nerds, and on Halloween night we joined another group for our scheduled tour.  The place looked like the Winchester Mystery House from the outside – I saw a few doors-to-nowhere peeking out at us – and the thrills and chills made their first tentative appearance.  I sent them back inside for the moment, reserving judgement until the main event.
            It turned out the whole thing would be a self-guided tour: one teenaged employee looking resentful at missing out on the past-curfew tricks-or-treats handed us all maps, told us we were on camera and would be billed for any property damage, and emphasized the importance of us staying together and not wandering off from the rest of the group: “For if you stray, the demon in the house will take you, bwa-ha-ha.  Any questions?”
            “Yeah, is there a bathroom?”  Someone not-one-of-my­-friends asked.
          “Sure.”  The teen guided her to a door off the main entrance, which opened to a modern-looking hallway – muffled rock music could be heard from one of the rooms off of it.  “Second door on the left – I just cleaned it.”  The teen turned back to the rest of us.  “You all can go ahead, you know.”
            We were simultaneously befuddled.  “But you just said we shouldn’t split up,” one of my friends said.
            The teen suppressed a sigh: “There’s another group coming in at 9, guys.  I’ll make sure she finds you.”  Pressing a button that killed most of the lights and set all the floorboards creaking, chains rattling, and disembodied voices moaning, the teen slumped into a chair that faced a monitor showing 12 camera feeds: we took that as our cue to get going.
            My friends and I went up to the second floor, having nothing invested in waiting for a stranger to catch up like the rest of them did, and we giggled our way through the darkened rooms.  I must say, the attention to detail was amazing: I could almost smell the blood splattered on the walls, and once or twice we huddled together when we heard heavy footsteps approaching us from everywhere.  The first time it was the rest of the group stumbling their way around the place, but the second time we had no idea what.  Every so often a random costumed teenager would be waiting for us in a room, suddenly standing up from a chair or acting all possessed on a king-sized bed; we obligingly screamed every time.  I really liked reading the backstories of the horrors that were proudly on display in each room – such imaginations!
            And that was when I became separated from the group.
          I knew they had gone on ahead because they don’t appreciate hard work put into things as much as I do, so I let them go on to the next room while I finished reading about the governess axing the master of the house for shorting her on her annual bonus, after watching an in-person demonstration of the event, and I then went to the next room in the order we had been seeing them.  Except my friends weren’t there.  Or in any of the rooms down the hall.
            I didn’t want to panic, but I was in a strange dark house with lots of strangers, some of whom may want to kill me, so I used the modern lifeline of calling my friends’ phones: they all went to voicemail, so I was back in the pre-millennium mode of finding people when you’re lost.  I had two choices: go back downstairs to the main entrance to wait for them in safety with the teenage Big Brother and miss out on approximately $30 worth of the remainder of the tour, or go on to the next floor and hope that both they were up there and that I wouldn’t be murdered.  In the spirit of the season, I chose that option; after all, how far could they have gone in less than five minutes?
          The first thing I (barely) saw on that floor was a table in the hallway that had a very old-fashioned-looking doll propped up on it.  I was admiring the craftsmanship and wondering how much it was worth when it said:
            “Please don’t let the demon take me.”
            Fear-laughing, I said back: “Wow, that was good.”
            “I mean it: the prophecy states that I will be taken by the demon soon.  Please don’t let it take me.”
            This was really good; was it controlled by wi-fi?  “OK doll, am I supposed to hide you from the demon, or take you home with me for the reasonable price of $49.99?”
            “Please carry me back to my room upstairs,” the doll said – was it the teenager downstairs doing the voice?  I’d have to ask later – “but the prophecy states that the demon will take me before I get there.”
            “OK.”  I wasn’t sure where this was going.  “Should we even bother then, doll?”
            “Baby Doll.”
            “Yes, you’re a baby-looking doll.”
            “No, I’m a living doll.”
            “A doll that – lives?”
            “Yes.  I am Baby Doll.”
            Kind of creepy.  “OK Baby Doll, I’ll take you up to your room, but I’d better not get charged for supposedly damaging a prop.”  I picked it up – the tiny body felt spookily soft as I held it in one hand, slightly away from my body, so I could always drop it and run.
            “I am not a prop – I am a living doll!”
            “Whatever you say, Baby Doll.”
            I found the next set of stairs to the last floor, and as I climbed Baby Doll got more and more agitated, if that was even physically possible for a puppet: “Ooh, the demon surely will take me now!”
            “No it won’t, Baby Doll, I’ve got you.”
            “It’s not safe here!  I will be taken!”
            Boy, this place sure went all out.  “Which one’s your room?”
            “At the end of the hall.”
            “Of course it is.”
            “The demon is coming!  I know it will take me!”
           “Don’t worry, Baby Doll, I’ve got you.”  Don’t worry?  What would I do if there was an actual demon here after all?!  Choke, that’s what.
            “I won’t make it!”
            “It’s OK, Baby Doll, I’ve got you.”
            “The demon is almost here!”
            “It won’t get you, Baby Doll!”
            “Any moment now!”
            “I’ve got you, Baby Doll, don’t worry – ” a demon voice came out of  my mouth as I said “I’VE GOT YOU.”
            I stood in the hallway in front of the bedroom door and stared at my empty hands for a few seconds.  I then spun around a few times thinking I would find something, then saw on my watch that I had lost five minutes.  There was only one logical explanation.
            “Son of a gun, the demon possessed me!  How am I going to explain this to Baby Doll?!”  Where would demon-possessed me have put Baby Doll, anyway?  I started opening all the doors and peeking in the rooms.  “Oh Baby Doll, you know it wasn’t really me who spirited you away somewhere, right?”
            My reflection with demon eyes was waiting for me as I passed a hallway mirror.  I didn’t even wonder about the mechanics of it as it spoke: “You seriously thought you could get her past me?  Me?!  An actual demon?!”
            I really didn’t know how to answer that, so I went with “Huh?”
          “I feel bad for you, I really do,” Demon-Reflection went on, “here you are, stumbling around my house, and you still insist on trying to help the first sob story you come across even though it’s a living doll; it’s all so sad.”
            That snapped me out of it: “Wait a minute, I’m a paying customer, I just tried to bring a freaky doll back to her room, and you waltz right in me like you own the place!”
            Demon-Reflection looked unconcerned.  “So what are you gonna do about it, hm?  Whine?”
          “I’m gonna be-be-be very irate!”  I undramatically sputtered, then whipped out my phone.  “And rate this place zero stars so no one’ll ever come here again, ha!  Foiled you, demon!”
            “That only hurts the people who work here – I don’t care either way.”
            “Gaaah!”
            “Listen, I like your spirit,” Demon-Reflection seemed ready to leave.  “Tell you what: I’ll put Baby Doll back in her room all safe and sound, I won’t possess you again, and you and your posse can leave whenever you want.  Although I think it’s about 9, so you should probably leave now so the next group can come through.”
            “Really?  I – ”
            “Just get out.”
            I ran down all three flights of stairs and found my friends waiting by the entrance with the teenager.
            “There you are!”  They laughed.  “Did you have a good time?”
            “What?”  I couldn’t believe they weren’t worried about me!
            The teenager shooed us out.  “Thank you, glad you had a spooktacular time, we’re so behind schedule.”
            We passed the next group coming in as we got into our rental car.
           “So, are you satisfied?”  One of my friends asked as we buckled ourselves in.  “Was this all ‘actual fear’ enough for you?”
            “I suppose.”  I didn’t want to tip my hand.
            “It’d better be,” she said.  “We paid extra for that ‘Demon Possession’ gag you’re pretending didn’t happen.”
            “What?!”
            They laughed at me again.  “You should have seen how intense you looked when you thought you were saving that doll!  And the interactive mirror was awesome!”
            “But-but-but how could that even work?!”  I was sputtering a lot that night.  “So many things had to come together – I lost five minutes, for crying out loud!”
            “I think you just need a new watch.”
            “Oh.”
            In spite of the adrenaline, I was feeling a bit bummed at the manipulation as we drove away from the haunted house.  Still, it had been exactly what I asked for: real fear, without real peril.
I still tried to figure out how all those tricks had been managed as I watched the house recede, a tiny silhouette in the third-floor window waving at us.