The Nothing in the Dark

A story about just some bully, his friends, that creepy old person who lives in every community, and a horrific event.

On an evening in a September a gang of friends with their leader, Roger Anderson, walked through their neighborhood returning home from their pick up game of basketball. Roger being the ringleader of the group of friends, though friends is not really the right word for the group, it was just several kids who feared Roger enough to do what he said at any given time, but not enough to totally avoid him like most of the other kids around his age. Most of the band of kids that did allow themselves this loose affiliation with Roger mainly did it for the perks. This would be the fringe benefits of running with the toughest kid in the area, so they did not have to put up with any other bully. Why be a follower of God, when you can sit on the right hand of the devil. In every instance this causes troubles for all parties involved because there will always be a price to pay, even for the devil.

“Hey Roger,” said Tommy, “That was some good shooting in the game.”

Roger said, “Get off my balls you f*g.”

Tommy said, “What you mean, I'm telling the truth.”

Mike said, “No Tommy it sounds like you were just blowing Roger just now,” and the entire group of five laugh out loud at Tommy, who remained silent; he was thankful they were only passing under the occasional street light that lit there because of the red and heat that covered his face.

Roger said, “Its okay Tommy, I'm not a f*g or anything but sometimes it’s cool to have someone on my balls. It just feels good,” then the crew burst out again at Tommy's expense.

The crew, this was the term they came up with for themselves, were made up of the huge for his age Roger, glasses wearing Tommy, joker Mike, mentally slow Jake, and fat Luke. They were making their way through the grid of streets to make it back to their respective houses. The street they were on was the busiest in the neighborhood, also the most direct one to their houses. All five kids lived within four blocks of each other, and the path they were taking would make Roger the last one to get home that night. The crew was not walking in the grass beside the road, but fully in the right lane of traffic, although they would use the side walks when they were on a stretch that had them. You just could not bounce the ball on the grass the way you could on the asphalt or cement of a sidewalk, so they forced traffic to go around even if there were cars coming from both directions at the same time. Sometimes it got them honks, or the flashing of headlights at them, and if there were a patrol man around it would definitely get the a round of blue lights and a stern talk to about how just a few years back a kid got ran over by a drunk driver because the kid was in the street and was not paying attention to traffic. This would curb them for a few days but eventually they would get back in that lane of traffic bouncing their ball, passing it back and fourth between them all, except for the one they were currently making fun of all while giving the finger to all those drivers of cars or trucks that decided to flash their brights or honk.

The crew passed the time of the walk home by passing the ball and jibes at today's unfortunate soul, Tommy. The teasing would stay on one target for a day or two at a time, just until they found someone else to make fun of. This seemed to be their on going initiation to the crew, if you could take all the teasing then you could stay in, but if you cried or got too mad about it you got your a*s beat right there by Roger and who ever else he told to join in. The crew would occasionally gain and loose a member here or there, but this group had been the same for the last several months so everyone knew this unwritten code of ethics. All these things were true for the members except its founder Roger. No one busted on Roger or you got beat down and left in a ditch. As with all bullies, they were the ones that could take the least teasing so they showed you with their fists that they did not and would not take that s**t from anyone. Roger grew into his role as the boss of his friends in the natural means. He was from a broken home, he had a father that beat then subsequently abandoned both Roger and his mother.

This particular day the crew was more enthralled in the teasing than normal because they were not really paying attention to the route they took to get home. Instead of taking a previous street and zig-zagging the streets until they were all at home, they went the easiest way for a car to get from the basketball court to their homes to avoid all the stop signs on the less busy roads of the subdivision. The route they were on was going to take them by the Gypsy's house. This is the term of endearment the kids of the neighborhood called the property, it would even escape the mouths of parents or other adults on a regular basis.

Marilyn Stoops was the name that was on the deed of the worst looking house in the entire neighborhood. The yard was overgrown, because it had not been manicured once in the last ten years. The city gave monthly fines to the resident, but they were always paid in full every month and due to the budget shortfalls of the city the officials didn’t care if the lawn looked bad or not as long as the fine was paid promptly. This was probably because the same enforcement officer who gave the fine was the one who ultimately collected and added the revenue tax free to his own bank account instead of the city’s.

The Gypsy was not at all a Gypsy, she was closer to a full fledged witch or shaman. She was able to call spirits to her will, as well as hundreds of spells with a softly spoke incantation. She was very old, too old for you to believe her actual age but that didn't matter because she had forgotten her passed youth and with that her age as well. She dressed in baggy blouses and long skirts, but all would be better termed rags on her. She wore gold and turquoise jewelry as well as several pieces made from bones. These would be all kinds of animals bones to include those of human finger, and the most infamous was the four inch talisman of a single human fetus femur she wore around her neck. With her conjuring or incantations she was able to stay in her house and never need that occasional plumber or electrician to fix whatever problem she was having, she could handle things like that easily herself. It is not like she could convince a handyman to come on her property anyway. The main reason she was able to live without those services is because she lived without the luxuries of a television, telephone, and air conditioning. Her only connection to the outside world being her radio. She made her way through life like she always had, using a broom instead of a vacuum, heating her home and food with an open fire, and keeping her clothes somewhat clean by hand with homemade bar soap and wash basin. When she needed things, she would walk the mile or so the the corner pharmacy and sundries. She got everything that she ever needed from that store; if it was not there she didn't need the item. On her slow walking trips to the store there would undoubtedly be the unfortunate case of some set of teens driving in a vehicle who would pass her too close all the while screaming insults like “Witch B***h” and most of the time trying to splash the water run off from the side of the road after a rain upon her. When things like these would happen, no matter how large of a puddle the car would crash through and no matter how sure the passengers would be that they drenched her, she would never be wet in the slightest, she would catch eye contact of everyone in the vehicle where all would swear they were the one she was staring at, and all the passengers including the virgins would find themselves with a case of something to make it burn when they took a piss. She kept utterly and exhaustively to herself, for the obvious reasons. She would have the seldom guest who stayed with her, but no one else would ever have seen these visitors; they would arrive and leave in the deepest of night by whatever means those type people used to cover long distances quickly. She would even do the same when she needed to gather supplies for her rituals which were the only items that she could not get from the local store.

The crew were steadily popping remarks off at Tommy, who was now remaining quiet because he did not want to say something back to Roger that could not be forgiven. Tommy was the first one to notice that they were on their way to pass in front of that dreadful home, but he stayed quiet with it thinking that when the rest of them did see where their feet lead them he would stop being the center of their attention, and with the subtle ebbing he could pass the teasing off to the Gypsy. Tommy could not be certain, but it might have been Roger's plan all along to go by the house. If he guided them to it on purpose, he would come to regret it entirely. They all started to become quiet as one by one, as they started to see the over grown patches in the vacant lots leading up to the house of the Gypsy's.

Roger said, “Why yall get so quiet? You guys scared to walk by the Gypsy's house?”

Mike said, “I'm not scared of nothing.”

Roger said, “Then if you are not scared I dare you to go up on her porch. I have seen her smoking out here before and I think that she leaves the tobacco and papers out there. Go get them.”

Mike shrunk down and did not say anything back.

Tommy seeing an opportunity to turn the conversation from himself said, “Yeah, go on Mike go get the smoke, I thought you weren't scared.”

The others started in a low chant, “Mikey's scared, Mikey's scared” over and over.

Mike knew he put his foot in his mouth almost from the moment he opened it.

Roger moved to stand in front of Mike, then gut checked him with the ball and said, “Hold this, if you are not scared to. I knew you were a p***y, but if you are lucky I will share the smoke with you.” Then Roger turned on his heel and walked to the house.

The crew spontaneously, but near simultaneously called out, “Don't go Roger, she'll kill you.”

Roger looked over his shoulder as he kept walking and said, “I knew you were all p*****s.” He continued to walk to the house, and the rest of the crew could only stare petrified and astonished as he marched on. He climbed the three steps to mount the wood porch and started to look around the clutter for the supplies, mainly around where he would occasionally see her sitting. He found nothing, but he did notice there was noise coming from inside the small house, so he decided to investigate and he moved to a window and knelt down before it. The window had never been cleaned from the inside or outside, so he used the side of this hand to rub away the dirt from the outside of the window. This made it so he could see through the grime on the inside of the window to see an extremely dirty and cluttered room with a chair, an end table, and her radio placed on top. He thought he would see the gypsy sitting beside the radio, which was what the intriguing sound was ejecting from, but he did not find any of that. He was almost sure the radio was not even on at all. What he did find was what he wanted all along, the tobacco which was on the table with the radio. He also found that somehow the melody coming from inside the house got louder when he cleaned the spot on the window, it was almost as if that small barrier of dirt was the thing that was dampening the noise. Something besides just the desire to try the smoke was working on him now, and he had no resistance to it at all, so he made for the door as the melody becoming more and more pleasant and calming. Roger would never find out that what he was hearing would sound different to everyone the only common link being that the melody would be pleasing to the ears of all who had evil in their hearts and repulsing those who were good. That melody would draw the evil or dark beings who heard it closer to its source. In reality the Gypsy was in the middle of one of her rituals, and she was trying to attract a dark being to her. She was not looking for one in particular, she only wanted to pass a message to another of her kind in a far away place and this was the means her kind used.

The crew watched in attention as they saw Roger move closer and closer to the front door of the house. Luke said, “He is f*****g going to go inside.”

Mike yelled, “Roger, what the hell are you doing? She it going to eat your soul.”

Tommy said, “Roger, come back.”

Roger did not say anything, but he turned to face them with this odd plain look on his face, moved his index finger to his lips to give the sign to be quiet, then turned and silently entered the house. No one noticed then, but it was definitely weird for the door of such an old house to open in front of him and close behind him without even the slightest sound. Only after the door was closed again did the melody come louder to Roger's ears and heart. It was drawing him forward to itself. Roger did have some of his facets still about him because it was only in the background in that deep place in his mind's subconscious was he in the house for the melody, up high on the top part of his mind, the part that he knew what he was thinking he was in pursuit of the smoking supplies. He was not even aware that he was really inside the house itself, that melody had clouded his thinking so well that he did not even care that he was inside, he could only think of how good that smoke will be when he had taken his time rolling, lighting, and taking a deep inhale of that tobacco. If it was not for that melody he would have stopped at looking through the dirty window, and chalked this one up to bad luck and went on home to continue to steal the daily one or two off his mother to supply his habit. He was in no way thinking correctly, and he was continually being drawn by that song, not for its beauty but from his own curiosity.

The Gypsy was putting more and more lust and draw into that melody because she could feel something getting close to her, she knew that she would be able to snare a spirit to pass along her message. Her calls for this thing to come closer could not tell the difference between a live person's soul, or a dead person's spirit, the only thing she could distinguish was how close to the light or dark the thing was. She was calling for someone close to the dark, and Roger was there because he was plenty close enough to the dark for her.

Roger stepped through the clutter to the end table and got his prize for bravery to enter the house, and he put the supplies into his jeans pocket. He turned again on his heal to exit, then that song got louder and resonated down in his chest and in his head. The Gypsy had to step up the calls a little because she felt the thing start to move away. This worked in her favor, and now Roger was totally under her power. His face went slack and stared hazily as he turned back to the song, and started to walk through a doorway in the room to enter a hall. His steps were slow and zombieish, but he somehow was not able to make any noise as he passed through the house. No boards creaked, or wined as he walked down the hallway only lit by the candles held over head by a few wall sconces. The march continued until he reached the door at the end of the hallway that was pushed to, but not closed all the way. Had he been of full working mind he could have seen a band of candle light coming from around all four sides of the door, but that melody continued to come more loudly and contained more draw. He could not break away from the trance it put him in. He put his hand on the door and began to push it open and had he been of right mind he would have stopped as he saw what was inside the room he was drawn to, which would have scared him to his soul, carving nightmares in his dreams for years to come. Unfortunately, he continued to press that door open where luck and physics let out on him, when the door met the half way mark the rusty hinges screamed out in a bellow that stopped the melody instantly. Roger then regained his mind, and the picture before him sunk in which only took a moment. This image would haunt him until the day eventually perished. The Gypsy was totally naked, seated on the floor, legs folded Indian style in front of her, allowing her withered body to draw fourth that dark spirit. She sat in the middle of the room with chalk drawn symbols all around her, none of which Roger would have recognized then, but they being burned into his memory perfectly and he would one day find their meaning. Until she heard the sound that was not expected, because a spirit would never have made a sound, just passed through the door, she was moving and chanting the song her hands thrusting outward towards the door while she leaned forward over her legs, then pulling her hands to her chest as she sat back up straight in a come hither motion to the dark spirit she was drawing to her. She held in her left was an eagle's feather, the right was the white club of a deformed and diseased human humerus bone, a head band with a golden medallion centered on her forehead to keep the gainey hair from her face, and finally a human skull between her legs that covered all but the top of her graying unmanicured pubic hair but the face was turned away from her, and the empty sockets drilled into Roger.

The moment the chant stopped, and Roger saw the state he found himself in he pissed his pants, while the Gypsy's eyes locked on his, and she started to chant again but this time her will had changed, and she pulled her arms straight out to either side to expose the bone necklace between the sag of her breasts. Then with a sudden motion she shot her arms forward and leaned over her legs again while she looked up at the Roger, she cackled, “Flee Boy!” and a burst of wind shot through him entering his mind giving him more to dread when he would finally fall asleep from exhaustion or medication. This wind traveled like a small horizontal cyclone down the hall, out of the house, then through the crew of boys as it made its way down the road the direction they were originally headed.

Further up the road drove a large red truck jacked up with large wheels, steered by a teen who's high powered daddy cared too much about what his son would drive. The boy, Bobby, had his girlfriend's, Sara, head in his lap as he drove not paying much attention except for the sensations coming from below his waist. He started to moan with ecstasy and closed his eyes. Then the thing the Gypsy cast passed through the truck, and mainly through Sara before exiting out the back to continue its journey.

Sara's head popped up and said, “What was that? Did you feel that?”

Bobby said, “I feel you not blowing me, that's all,” then he reached to guide her head back down, but before he could get there Sara screamed amazingly loud.

She screamed, “LOOK OUT!” and started crying in fright.

Bobby who was still not paying attention to the road let his dazed eyes focus on the road just in time to see his head lights reflect off the tops the four boys that formed most of the crew who was just pushed into the road by the darkness the Gypsy released. The boys were not paying attention to the fact they were in the road and were only concerned with getting away from the house they were looking over their shoulders at. Bobby and Sara then heard the inevitable sound of the large bumper and grille guard crush the boy's chests and skulls. Bobby screamed out, “SSHHIIT. WHAT THE F**K JUST HAPPENED? WHY THE F**K WERE THEY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD?” as he crushed down on the breaks with his foot to stop the truck. The four boys were sent sailing nearly thirty feet down the road, then Bobby slammed the truck into park. He got out saying, “Why the f**k were they in the road?” as he broke down into sobs and fell to his knees not being able to get any closer to the gore. Sara was not screaming any more, but she was incoherent as she got out and fell to the ground beside Bobby and held him, they both crying until some other unfortunate soul came up on the accident and called the police.

Bobby and Sara would subsequently break up due to the stress that the night had brought on, and Bobby would be sent to juvenile detention for the next eleven months until his eighteenth birthday, for four counts of negligent vehicular manslaughter. If it was not for Bobby's family stature in the community he would have been tried as an adult, which would have gotten him life in prison. Either way he spent the rest of his life behind bars because the night before his freedom day he was found hanging from his sheet in his cell.

The Gypsy had continued her ritual until she got the dark soul she wanted, so she could pass the message she wanted. She would not have been noticed, but she crept out of her front door once she was clothed again, just to see what was going on just outside her yard. The flashing lights from the ambulances, firetruck, police, and sheriff deputies filled the night for hours to come. The Gypsy could do nothing but smile as she watched as the people buzzed around in front of her house, and the entire sum of them took extra pains to not place a toe off the road and onto the grass that was considered her property.

After Roger was attacked by the darkness the Gypsy released, he sprinted flat out to his house, because of the images his eyes saw, and what the dark thing showed him in the instant it was passing through him. Roger could not remember if he heard the crash, or the screams that came after his friends were slaughtered, but when he did, everything he could to try to forget all the things that day held for him, which never worked because the human mind works in that weird way to not let you forget those things you want so bad to. When Roger did cover the last half mile to his home, he thought that he would almost die from the exertion, but he knew that he had to press on because on some level he knew that his night was far from over.

Roger climbed the steps to the front door of his house know something was wrong, hoping that the only person who could ever have loved him, his mother, would be fine and finishing up supper. He opened the door, and all the lights were out in the living room, which was odd because of the street lamps that were on as he ran to his front door. He reached for the switch with that surety that it would be just off, but it was in the on position. Then he thought that maybe some type of power surge burned out the lights, so he called out, “Mom. Is everything alright?”

There was no return message, and he thought the worst, which was no where close to what actually happened. He continued to walk slowly through the room trying to feel out with his hands and make it through to the next light source without tripping over something and falling to the ground. As he reached out he felt the back of the couch and used it to pass through the room quicker, but he felt the thing was somehow damp. Then he felt that dark thing in the darkness. That evil being was in the room with him, and he stopped petrified. The thing sensed someone was there, and when it determined who it was it passed right by him on its way out and back to do its master's bidding. When that happened the electrical disturbance had passed with its departure, and the lights began to strobe back to life. Roger was told the story of what happened here over the brief stuttering flashes of light, as he saw the room drenched with red as if a someone put a grenade in a five gallon bucket of red paint to let it explode in his open living room and dining room. After only the first flash he began to eject sick on the floor as the shock set in. The lights strobed for about five seconds, that seemed like five hours, until the lights were back to normal. He just walked slowly through the room to the dinner table to see two place settings made up, with his favorite meal of fried pork chops and stuffing. For the entirety of his life he would instantly puke if he saw, smelled, or even heard anyone talk about this dish. He continued to move to his mother's seat at the table to look at something odd on her plate, besides the redecoration of the red on all objects and surfaces of the space he was in. When he got there her plate had the normal amount of food on it but there was a large thick bloody blob of something. He could not stop himself, and maybe it was some part of the Gypsy or her dark thing that had some type of control over Roger, but he reached and picked up the think on the food of his mother's plate. He held it up to his eye level, turned it around towards him, to see that it was the hollow, limp mass of the sunken face of his beloved mother.

Author's Note

My first attempt at the horror genre. Let me know what you think.