31 Days Of Halloween

  Jake Bible

  All content copyright 2019 Jake Bible

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  What’s A Drabble?

  Introduction

  1st

  2nd

  3rd

  4th

  5th

  6th

  7th

  8th

  9th

  10th

  11th

  12th

  13th

  14th

  15th

  16th

  17th

  18th

  19th

  20th

  21st

  22nd

  23rd

  24th

  25th

  26th

  27th

  28th

  29th

  30th

  31st

  About The Author:

  What’s A Drabble?

  A drabble, simply put, is a story that is exactly 100 words long. Not 99, not 101, but exactly 100 words. It could have a beginning, middle and end, but doesn’t have to.

  It just has to tell a story. Whether that story is good or not is up to the reader. Well, it’s up to the writer first, but you know what I mean.

  Is there any specific reason to write drabbles? Sure, it’s a great way to learn economy of words and also to get all those ideas in one’s brain out on paper so things don’t get crowded.

  Are there any rules to drabbles other than the 100 words? Nope. No more rules than writing anything else.

  If you want to see how far the drabble concept can be taken then check out my novel, DEAD MECH. It’s over 136,000 words, all written 100 words at a time.

  Introduction

  Now, back in 2009, I didn’t have much of a body of work out there so I decided I needed to do something else. I decided to write a Halloween themed drabble every day of October.

  Now, this didn’t mean I released a drabble every day of October, nope I saved them up. But, it did mean I had to discipline myself and make sure I wrote one drabble every single day, no matter what. It actually wasn’t very hard to write one a day. The hard part was only writing one a day. I really had to hold myself back from writing two, three or four, since I had the ideas in my head. It was torture at times, which I think helped with the mood of some of these drabbles when I finally did sit down to write.

  I released the collection, 31 Days Of Halloween, for free on my blog on Halloween 2009, but I really hadn’t built up much of a fan base then and it went largely unnoticed.

  So, 10 years later now you get to read 31 Days Of Halloween knowing that each drabble was written on that particular day in October of 2009. Kinda like a peek back in time.

  Enjoy!

  Jake Bible

  October 2019

  1st

  He lay listless, the flow of blood having slowed to a trickle. Above him the apple trees laughed, their leaves fluttering in the evening breeze, the sunset reflecting blood red on the shiny skins of the Red Delicious.

  He tried to push himself to his feet, but each time he did a branch swung down, smacking him back into the earth.

  “Stay down...stay put...he will come for you...he will come...,” the trees whispered.

  “No...please...,” he croaked. “I didn’t...want this...”

  “But...you did...,” the whispers answered. “You...just didn’t...want to be...the sacrifice...”

  He started to weep, wishing he had never found the book

  2nd

  Unobserved, the cat slunk through the fallen leaves, barely making a rustle.

  He watched the figure move from house to house, door to door, becoming more agitated with each rejection.

  Tail twitching, the feline leapt to the top of the picket fence surrounding the last house’s front yard and waited for the figure to pass by.

  Fully dejected, the figure approached the cat.

  “Why so glum, Jack?” the cat asked, casually cleaning itself.

  The figure, Jack, paused at the gate.

  “They celebrate, but they don’t believe,” he sighed.

  “Then make them.”

  Jack grinned. “Thank you, Cat. I think I will...”

  3rd

  “Are you going to hurt me?” the little girl asked.

  “Yes, my sweet, I am going to hurt you very much. Very slowly,” the masked man growled with delight.

  “Oh, well, in that case then you are supposed to know the following: Dear Abductor, You have taken a child protected by the QuickRevenge 4000 micro-chip. The parent or parents of this child should be arriving now. You will be subjected to tortures even you cannot imagine. Thank you and have an awful day.”

  The door to the basement burst open and the masked man screamed. Just like a little girl.

  4th

  “Bubble, brew, bubble!” the witch cackled.

  “Oh, please, can’t you think of something original to say,” her sister bitched. “Every year the same old crap, ‘double double’ and ‘bubble trouble’. I mean, really? It’s the 21st century, for Evil’s sake.”

  “Well, that’s what the recipe calls for,” the witch retorted. “You never seem to mind the results.”

  “Results, results, results! Arrgh, that’s all it is with you! What about the process? The journey?”

  “May I make a suggestion?” the teenager in the cage asked.

  “Hush you!” the sisters barked. “This doesn’t concern you!”

  “Pretty sure it does...” the teenager mumbled.

  5th

  They sat upon the hillside, wrapped in their tattered fleece, as the Autumn sun quickly set.

  “So this is it?” Terri asked, snuggling in closer to Leonard’s chest.

  “I’m afraid so, baby,” Leonard answered, leaning in to kiss the top of Terri’s head. He loved how she still smelled of wild rose and jasmine. “We had a good run though didn’t we?”

  “Yeah, baby, we did. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  The sun fell fully behind the hills, plunging the land into twilight darkness.

  Not too far off, the howls and screeches began.

  Leonard gripped the grenade, ready.

  6th

  Lydia quickly unwrapped the candy bar, ready to devour the treat. Seeing what was inside, she screeched, tossing the bar across the room.

  “Mom!” Lydia screamed.

  Lydia’s mother rushed into the living room. “What? What is it?”

  Lydia pointed to the mangled bar, smashed against the baseboard.

  Picking up the bar, Lydia’s mother glanced at the human thumb sticking out from the chocolate and sighed.

  “Fine, if you don’t want finger flavor then go see if your brother will trade for an eyeball pop,” her mother scolded, putting the candy in her pocket and wiping her tentacles on her apron.

  7th

  The freshly turned earth overwhelmed his senses as he laid his cheek upon the ground. The softness of the soil caressed his skin, reminding him of Joanne and her gentle touch.

  He awoke suddenly, not intending to fall asleep, but it had been such a tiring night. He listened, hoping what woke him was what he was waiting for. As he felt the new caress upon his face, he knew he was right.

  The unbelievers could all go to Hell! He was right!

  He pushed back from the ground, extending his hand, grasping hers as it emerged from the grave.

  8th

  WOOOT-WOOOT!

  Jason turned, seeing the train come around the hill and onto the bridge. He glanced at his watch. 2:13 am.

  “Damn,” he mumbled. He’d hoped this night would be different.

  Jason stood his ground and waited, the train rushing closer each second, the engineer frantically sounding the whistle.

  He’d stopped bothering to close his eyes years ago. He wondered why the engineers hadn’t stopped bothering to whistle. He guessed they couldn’t always be sure it was him.

  The train bore down on him, through him.

  Hope it isn’t a long one, he thought as he waited for the end.

  9th

  The creature raged at his chains bolted securely to the stone wall. Keys rattled at the massive wooden door to the cell. The creature retreated, waiting.

  The door swung open and a small woman entered, a tray of meats of various types, weighing her arms down.

  The creature lunged, but was caught up short by its chains.

  “Now Harold, please let’s not start that again,” the woman said.

  She set the tray down just out of reach and grabbed a pole, sliding the tray to the creature.

  “Father believes the antidote should work this time, my love. So eat up.”

  10th

  The harvest was in and the whole town was celebrating.

  Food, drinks, games; it was a true Fall carnival and the best one in years that anyone could remember.

  “What’s wrong, Jimmy,” Pastor Malone asked, sitting next to the ten year old. Jimmy looked up, his eyes teary.

  “I just don’t know if it’s right,” he said, his voice choked up.

  Pastor Malone put his arm around his little parishioner. “Now Jimmy, we�
��ve talked about this. If God didn’t want us to bring in the harvest then he wouldn’t have called towns like ours ‘tourist traps’, now would he?”

  11th

  She haunted the hallways and corridors of the burnt out asylum, floating from room to room, desperately trying to remember why she was still there. She knew if she could only remember then she could be set free, set loose from what seemed like an eternity of torment.

  As she walked past Room 118 a voice stopped her.

  “Remember anything today, Lorelei?” the Ghost of the Half-Eaten Corpse asked.

  “No, nothing today, Steve,” she sighed.

  “Well, good luck.”

  “Thank you.”

  There was something about Steve that almost triggered memories, memories of hunger.

  Oh, well, she thought. Maybe I’ll remember tomorrow.

  12th

  “He’s coming!!!” the Mayor yelled.

  An old Datsun pulled onto the shoulder in front of the field where the festival was set up.

  The driver leaned over, rolling down the passenger window. “Excuse me, is the Henderson Estate close?”

  A nervous girl stepped forward, chosen as this year’s Guide.

  “Um, yeah, its, like, just down the road,” she stuttered.

  “Thanks.” The driver smiled and drove off in the direction the girl indicated.

  “OMG!” the girl squealed. “I talked to it!”

  A banner was uncovered and “The Henderson Ghost Fest 2009” was lit by spotlights, officially kicking off that year’s festival.

  13th

  Rows upon rows. Corn as far as the eye could see.

  The scarecrow hung motionless upon the pole, arms akimbo, legs dangling above the dirt.

  When the last bit of sunlight left the wide open plains, the scarecrow would be released from its bonds. It waited patiently for night to come, for its time to hunt.

  It wasn’t easy getting down from the pole. Nor was it easy returning before sunrise each morning. But it had a duty.

  The scarecrow no longer waited for them to come to him.

  He knew where the crows roosted and what must be done.

  14th

  “This is amazing!” Marley exclaimed, wiping the Autumn mist from her camera lens.

  “Yeah. I still can’t believe we got this land so cheap,” James said. “It’s perfect.”

  “Times are rough,” said Marley “They seemed desperate to sell.”

  The couple crested a ridge and Marley turned to photograph the view, her camera clicking away.

  “Hey, an old cabin!” James said, excitedly rushing down the hill and onto the decrepit porch.

  “A cabin?” Marley asked, turning from the view to see what James was talking about. But when she did, all she saw was an empty, overgrown pasture. “What cabin? James...?”

  15th

  “pleasegoawaypleasegoawaypleasegoawaypleasegoawaypleasegoaway,” she whispered to herself, rocking back and forth on the closet floor, her arms wrapped tightly about her knees.

  ...thump...

  “ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod,” she moaned. “It isn’t real. It isn’t real.” She had to cover her mouth and stifle the scream that threatened to loose from her very soul.

  ...thump...thump...

  She held her breath, waiting, listening.

  ...thump...THUMP!

  A tiny squeak escaped her lips and she froze. It was right outside the closet door. She jammed a fist into her mouth, biting down until she drew blood.

  ...THUMP...

  As the closet door slowly opened, she prayed she’d die of fright first. Before...

  16th

  “Can I open my eyes yet? Please?” Jill asked, grasping onto Darren’s forearm as he led her into his workshop.

  “Not yet,” Darren grinned. “Just let me unlock the door...and...Viola!”

  Jill opened her eyes and stepped into the large room while Darren guided her with a hand at the small of her back.

  “So...what do you think?” Darren asked expectantly, closing the door behind them and flicking several light switches on.

  “Um...wow...they’re interesting,” Jill said, a bit confused by what she was looking at. “Is this a wax museum?”

  “Oh, they aren’t wax,” Darren answered, latching and bolting the door.

  17th

  Devon slammed his fist against the steering wheel.

  “Damn it! Move!” he yelled at the traffic jam. It had been stop and go for the better part of two hours and Devon was beginning to panic. He knew he had been cutting it too close.

  Should I just make a break for it?, he wondered.

  The sun began to set and Devon accepted that he'd screwed up. He locked the doors as the change began.

  “Look Mommy! The Big Bad Wolf!” the little girl cried from the next car over.

  “That's nice, sweetie. Finish your fruit snacks.”

  18th

  “You aren’t worried about living in a house owned by a serial killer?” Elizabeth asked, pouring Lacy another glass of merlot. “Didn’t he keep the bodies here?”

  “Oh, no, no,” Lacy said, taking a sip of wine. “He disposed of the bodies right away.”

  “Bull!” Daniel said coming into the room with Harrison.

  “It’s true, his ghost still haunts the house,” Harrison insisted, stepping to Lacy’s side. “We’ve both seen him.”

  “And you aren’t worried?”

  “Why? Its not like he used a machete or axe. As long as we don’t jump into his phantom wood chipper, I’d say we’re safe.”

  19th

  I can’t sleep anymore.

  No reason other than I have been a prisoner here for I don’t know how long.

  The cell I’m kept in is clean and white, but has no windows, no view into the outside world.

  There is only a door. One single solitary door. Too small for me to crawl through.

  Not too small for them, though.

  No. They fit just fine.

  Little people, a foot high, maybe. They keep me here.

  I am well cared for. Fed and washed daily. They drug me for the washing.

  I wish they would drug me for the cutting.

  20th

  “Ruuuuuuuuuunnnnn!” Amanda yelled, pushing the children past her, out the back door. “Go! Go! Get to the Talbot’s house.”

  The three small children, screaming and crying all, ran past the flower beds, the compost pile and out the back gate. Amanda turned to face the house again, but the little screams coming from the back alley drew her attention.

  “Oh God...not another one,” she whimpered.

  The back gate swung open and It stepped through, the children dangling from Its hook like claws.

  Amanda sank to her knees defeated, sobbing. “Why? WHY!?!”

  “Because we can,” the inhuman voice growled behind her.

  21st

  I pass the blade back and forth across the strop. Back and forth, back and forth.

  I check the blade; not quite ready. The blade MUST be sharp.

  I have one end of the strop clamped to the worktable, the other nailed tightly to the wall so my right hand can be free to run the blade back and forth, back and forth.

  My left hand, well, I can no longer trust my left hand, now firmly clamped to the same worktable.

  Which is why the blade must be sharp. As sharp as it can be for the task...at hand.

  22nd

  I watch, helpless. Helpless to stop his small body from deteriorating. From wasting away to nothing.