Excerpts from What If #4, the Halloween edition
So I've been promising Halloween mayhem, and you may have seen a few teasers on facebook about What If Halloween. I now have not one, but two stories in this anthology. While the teaser is still showing a wolf howling on a cliff, the actual illustration for "An Elder Race" now has the wolf howling from the rooftop of Carstairs House. Which is absolutely fitting because that's what the neighbors think Uncle Nigel does most nights...
So here is a teaser from "An Elder Race."
So here is a teaser from "An Elder Race."
It really wasn't fair that he was living alone, paycheck to paycheck. He had all the skills, all the credentials. He certainly had the necessary moral convictions, yet the good jobs all seemed to be taken by determined spinsters and others of questionable politics and even more questionable "lifestyles." No wonder the public schools were turning out delinquents.
And worse, like that Carstairs boy in the fifth-grade class he'd taught today. To Leon's great annoyance, the school he'd graced with his services was one of those careless places that allowed the students to wear costumes on Halloween. Leon wasn't having that nonsense, and required his class to remove their dime store covers and masks. All would have been well, but for the Carstairs boy.
Instead of a cheap costume thrown over his school clothes, Patrick Carstairs was dressed in green and brown, with some sort of ivy twined around his tattered sweater. The same stuff was also tangled in his black hair, which Leon though badly needed cutting. Instead of a mask, the boy wore makeup. Not only eyeliner, but glitter, for heaven's sake.
"What are you supposed to be, young man?"
"Robin Goodfellow, sir," was the grinning imp's answer.
Leon glanced down to scan the attendance chart. The class tittered, so he changed his gaze to the seating chart, and found the impertinent brat's name. "I don't know how you got out of the house dressed like that, Carstairs, but it won't do. Go to the restroom, wash that filth from your face, get rid of that shrubbery, and comb your hair."
The whole class stared in dumbfounded silence. "What are you waiting for, Carstairs? Get on, and don't be all day about it!"
As the boy slunk toward the door, something else caught Leon's eye. "What on earth is this?" He yanked at the boy's ear, and a pointed rubber tip came off in his hand. "Fairy ears?" Leon pulled the other ear tip off and threw them in the wastebasket. "Your parents shall hear of this. Now get going."
And worse, like that Carstairs boy in the fifth-grade class he'd taught today. To Leon's great annoyance, the school he'd graced with his services was one of those careless places that allowed the students to wear costumes on Halloween. Leon wasn't having that nonsense, and required his class to remove their dime store covers and masks. All would have been well, but for the Carstairs boy.
Instead of a cheap costume thrown over his school clothes, Patrick Carstairs was dressed in green and brown, with some sort of ivy twined around his tattered sweater. The same stuff was also tangled in his black hair, which Leon though badly needed cutting. Instead of a mask, the boy wore makeup. Not only eyeliner, but glitter, for heaven's sake.
"What are you supposed to be, young man?"
"Robin Goodfellow, sir," was the grinning imp's answer.
Leon glanced down to scan the attendance chart. The class tittered, so he changed his gaze to the seating chart, and found the impertinent brat's name. "I don't know how you got out of the house dressed like that, Carstairs, but it won't do. Go to the restroom, wash that filth from your face, get rid of that shrubbery, and comb your hair."
The whole class stared in dumbfounded silence. "What are you waiting for, Carstairs? Get on, and don't be all day about it!"
As the boy slunk toward the door, something else caught Leon's eye. "What on earth is this?" He yanked at the boy's ear, and a pointed rubber tip came off in his hand. "Fairy ears?" Leon pulled the other ear tip off and threw them in the wastebasket. "Your parents shall hear of this. Now get going."
Here's a teaser from "Headless." If you've read The Book of Carnacki the Ghost Finder from Belanger Books, you've met Miz Flora Haskill, and been introduced to the family haint.
"So, will you come with me to visit Miz Flora on Halloween?" Janet grinned at her boyfriend, who rolled his eyes.
"Is that the height of horror in this town? Roll up and see the creepy old lady? I can think of better things to do."
Janet laughed. "If you want to fit in around here, you need to know the local legends. Miz Flora not only knows all of them, she is one, herself. Everyone hits Miz Flora's house last on Halloween, to hear her tell the story of the Headless Ghost of Foxfire Creek."
"Does this involve a big black horse and a flaming pumpkin?"
Janet shook her head, slowly, her eyes promising mischief. "She'll be our first stop, so you can hear the story from someone whose family has passed it down from first hand accounts."
"How true is it likely to be, then?" Bill laughed, but Janet's expression didn't change.
"Every folk tale has a grain of truth at the core," Janet told him. "That's what Miz Flora says. You'll see."
Bill took her into his arms. "I've got a job waiting for me with a good firm in Houston. We'll get a nice little house off the loop." He patted Janet's belly. "The mother of my son isn't going to live above a hick town ballet studio, teaching a bunch of no talents."
Janet's expression changed, though Bill never saw it. There were many things about Janet which Bill never saw, because he was always looking at visions of his own success. He found them preferable to the sight of Janet's home town, and wondered how the hell he'd let her talk him into spending Halloween in the middle of nowhere.
"Is that the height of horror in this town? Roll up and see the creepy old lady? I can think of better things to do."
Janet laughed. "If you want to fit in around here, you need to know the local legends. Miz Flora not only knows all of them, she is one, herself. Everyone hits Miz Flora's house last on Halloween, to hear her tell the story of the Headless Ghost of Foxfire Creek."
"Does this involve a big black horse and a flaming pumpkin?"
Janet shook her head, slowly, her eyes promising mischief. "She'll be our first stop, so you can hear the story from someone whose family has passed it down from first hand accounts."
"How true is it likely to be, then?" Bill laughed, but Janet's expression didn't change.
"Every folk tale has a grain of truth at the core," Janet told him. "That's what Miz Flora says. You'll see."
Bill took her into his arms. "I've got a job waiting for me with a good firm in Houston. We'll get a nice little house off the loop." He patted Janet's belly. "The mother of my son isn't going to live above a hick town ballet studio, teaching a bunch of no talents."
Janet's expression changed, though Bill never saw it. There were many things about Janet which Bill never saw, because he was always looking at visions of his own success. He found them preferable to the sight of Janet's home town, and wondered how the hell he'd let her talk him into spending Halloween in the middle of nowhere.
