Fossil Lake: An Anthology of the Aberrant by Ramsey Campbell, Peter Rawlik, Mary Pletsch, Jerrod Balzer, John Goodrich, Scott Colbert, John Claude Smith, Ken Goldman, Doug Blakeslee Page B
Authors: Ramsey Campbell, Peter Rawlik, Mary Pletsch, Jerrod Balzer, John Goodrich, Scott Colbert, John Claude Smith, Ken Goldman, Doug Blakeslee
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giving me the hairy eyeball.
“What the hell?” I rubbed my face. “How did I get here?”
“Marcus and Steve found you in the van,” he said. “Soaked to the bone, bruised as hell, but alive. I’m guessing that you took a wrong turn. You never could follow directions.”
Something about this didn’t add up, but I latched onto the last part. “That map of yours was shit,” I said.
“No it wasn’t.”
“It was. And no wonder you packed all that extra crap. Could have goddamn warned me.”
“You took care of the pouch?”
“It’s deep-sixed, along with whatever lurked in that damn lake.”
He grunted with satisfaction. “Good. That’s been a bother forever. Did you find anyone else?”
“Her children. I think.” The thought brought back more disturbing memories.
“Captives, not children,” Bernie said. “She lured the unwary to serve her. I guess they hauled you out as thanks for freeing them, and then disappeared.”
I wasn’t too sure about that, but what other explanation could there be? I’d gotten from that bone-embedded cave to the van somehow, after all.
“Now what?” I asked.
“We’re done.” Bernie grinned at me. “The cave collapsed, we got paid twice, and everyone’s happy.”
Everyone? I let it go for now. “What do you mean, paid twice?”
“I’ll explain on the way home.” He pointed toward the motel bathroom. “After you take a shower. You smell like the dank.”
DARK OF MADNESS
Tanya Nehmelman
The dark can be damning. You never know what’s hiding within it. The senses are heightened. Every little noise, creak and crack sends shivers, tingling down the spine. Every moving shadow plays a horrific image in the mind. Maybe if the guilt didn’t linger, the darkness wouldn’t be so bad.
The wind howls, and you hear her whisper, “Why? I did everything for you.” Those were her last words. Why did you do it? The question dwells in your mind. You lost it for a second, but a second was all it took. After all, you did it with a smile, didn’t you? Didn’t you? So why is it bothering you now?
Was it the way the tears rolled down her cheeks? The way she begged for your pity? Or the simple fact that she just plain trusted you? No, it’s not any of that, is it? You’ve wanted her dead for a long time now, ever since you were children. Haven’t you?
You dressed like her, acted like her, and wanted to be her. Somewhere in your small mind, you believed you’d grow up to be her, didn’t you? Even as adults, you tried to be her. But when everyone continued to praise her, and not you, that’s when you snapped, wasn’t it? With her out of the picture, you are free to be her. Isn’t that right? So what’s the problem?
Darkness surrounds you. Strange sounds of the night buzz in your ears. Her body is gone. You made sure of that, didn’t you? Of course you did. You tied the sack of bricks firmly around her ankles, and knocked her body off the pier. Then you stood over, watching, glug, glug, glug, as the body sank. She’s with Papa now. This was his secret fishing spot, and every time he brought you girls out here, he warned you to stay away from the brim. He claimed it was so deep, that if you fell in, he’d never be able to find you. So why are you on edge? There is no way she’s slinking out in the darkness now, is there?
Your heart bangs in your chest in that ridiculously fast manner now. What’s that, you hear footfalls in the distance? Nah, it’s just another sound of the night. So you tell yourself. Why are your hands shaking? You damn well know if this would’ve been the other way around, her hands wouldn’t be shaking. This angers you, doesn’t it? Even with her gone, you can’t be her. Maybe it’s because she’s not gone. She’s out there in the dark, watching, waiting.
Was that a scream, echoing out in the distance? There it is again. Wait, that’s not screaming. It’s just a loon. You’re losing it, aren’t you? A
“What the hell?” I rubbed my face. “How did I get here?”
“Marcus and Steve found you in the van,” he said. “Soaked to the bone, bruised as hell, but alive. I’m guessing that you took a wrong turn. You never could follow directions.”
Something about this didn’t add up, but I latched onto the last part. “That map of yours was shit,” I said.
“No it wasn’t.”
“It was. And no wonder you packed all that extra crap. Could have goddamn warned me.”
“You took care of the pouch?”
“It’s deep-sixed, along with whatever lurked in that damn lake.”
He grunted with satisfaction. “Good. That’s been a bother forever. Did you find anyone else?”
“Her children. I think.” The thought brought back more disturbing memories.
“Captives, not children,” Bernie said. “She lured the unwary to serve her. I guess they hauled you out as thanks for freeing them, and then disappeared.”
I wasn’t too sure about that, but what other explanation could there be? I’d gotten from that bone-embedded cave to the van somehow, after all.
“Now what?” I asked.
“We’re done.” Bernie grinned at me. “The cave collapsed, we got paid twice, and everyone’s happy.”
Everyone? I let it go for now. “What do you mean, paid twice?”
“I’ll explain on the way home.” He pointed toward the motel bathroom. “After you take a shower. You smell like the dank.”
DARK OF MADNESS
Tanya Nehmelman
The dark can be damning. You never know what’s hiding within it. The senses are heightened. Every little noise, creak and crack sends shivers, tingling down the spine. Every moving shadow plays a horrific image in the mind. Maybe if the guilt didn’t linger, the darkness wouldn’t be so bad.
The wind howls, and you hear her whisper, “Why? I did everything for you.” Those were her last words. Why did you do it? The question dwells in your mind. You lost it for a second, but a second was all it took. After all, you did it with a smile, didn’t you? Didn’t you? So why is it bothering you now?
Was it the way the tears rolled down her cheeks? The way she begged for your pity? Or the simple fact that she just plain trusted you? No, it’s not any of that, is it? You’ve wanted her dead for a long time now, ever since you were children. Haven’t you?
You dressed like her, acted like her, and wanted to be her. Somewhere in your small mind, you believed you’d grow up to be her, didn’t you? Even as adults, you tried to be her. But when everyone continued to praise her, and not you, that’s when you snapped, wasn’t it? With her out of the picture, you are free to be her. Isn’t that right? So what’s the problem?
Darkness surrounds you. Strange sounds of the night buzz in your ears. Her body is gone. You made sure of that, didn’t you? Of course you did. You tied the sack of bricks firmly around her ankles, and knocked her body off the pier. Then you stood over, watching, glug, glug, glug, as the body sank. She’s with Papa now. This was his secret fishing spot, and every time he brought you girls out here, he warned you to stay away from the brim. He claimed it was so deep, that if you fell in, he’d never be able to find you. So why are you on edge? There is no way she’s slinking out in the darkness now, is there?
Your heart bangs in your chest in that ridiculously fast manner now. What’s that, you hear footfalls in the distance? Nah, it’s just another sound of the night. So you tell yourself. Why are your hands shaking? You damn well know if this would’ve been the other way around, her hands wouldn’t be shaking. This angers you, doesn’t it? Even with her gone, you can’t be her. Maybe it’s because she’s not gone. She’s out there in the dark, watching, waiting.
Was that a scream, echoing out in the distance? There it is again. Wait, that’s not screaming. It’s just a loon. You’re losing it, aren’t you? A
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