Mischiefmakers: Dark Macabre (19 page)

he sky is in rage. Lightning streaks across the heavens, and
thunder rumbles the ground. Like thin, aged hands, the bolts
of light emerge from thick black clouds that dangle just

above the city. As quickly as they appear, they disappear. Just as
soon as one cloud goes, another takes its place and announces its
presence with a thunderous roar that rattles the largest of mountains. The clouds resemble thick, black smoke surging throughout
the heavens, engulfing the view of the night sky.

Melissa tosses in her sheets, drunk with rage. Her heart pounds,
her body quivers. Tiny streams of salty, eye-stinging perspiration
pour down her face. Her eyes are shut tight but her pupils shift
frantically under their lids. Her mouth gapes wide; she doesn’t
utter a sound. She grips the sheets with intensity.

Her eyes open, revealing pitch-black pupils that start to illumi
-
nate in their familiar witchy green. With her changing eye color
and pulsating body, she’s under someone else’s control. Like a
battery wilting in strength, her eyes slowly lose their bright green
glow. Suddenly they begin to surge once more with a brightness
that pierces the dark room. As if someone or something is pulling a power switch from within her body, her eyes battle between
light and dark. With her mouth still frozen open, her rigid tongue
extends. The blood vessels in her face begin pulsating, creating an
eerie web-like pattern.

Flashes of light flicker throughout the room from the ensuing
storm outside her windows. The pounding rain and brushing tree
branches create a ghostly chorus as they greet the windows.

Suddenly the violent storm within her ceases. Her tight fists
relax, falling gently into the heavily creased sheets. Her eyes open
slowly, revealing soot-black pupils. Only then does her mouth
close sluggishly.

Melissa finds herself within the perils of another terrifying
nightmare, running down a red, fiery hall. The wall’s huge stones
release a thick, white steam. The tunnel seems endless, as its ending is nothing more than a pitch of blackness. Reaching out to rest
against the wall, the stones’ steam burns her. Looking down, she
sees that her hands are beginning to blister.

Then Melissa notices the torn white wedding gown she is wearing is splattered with spots of blood. Her feet are bare and coated
with a thin layer of crimson.

She looks, confused, at the steaming walls that are beginning
to crack from an unknown pressure. Turning quickly, she hears
something behind her, a thunderous roar like a buffalo stampede.
Melissa begins to run instinctively. Her bloody feet slap against
the rough heated floor as she gasps for air. The roaring is gaining
strength and speed. Its echo violently resounds through the shallow tunnel. Her eyes grow wide as she listens to her stalker getting
closer by the second. Lifting her dress, she gains a sprinter’s speed.
Her feet, numb and bloody, feel as if they are no longer present,
as if she is running on air. With a swift glimpse backwards, she
sees it. A white ball of clouds filling the tunnel behind her. The
terrifying blaring cloud sounds as if it houses a million treacherous storms. It is dark, yet well defined, as sharp bolts of lightning
quickly pierce its outer boundary before vanishing. Panting heavily, her body weakens. Her speed slows. Her muscles ache. The
violent cloud doesn’t slow but steadily gains on her as she gasps
for air and holds her cramping belly. The cloud overtakes her. She
finds herself within its thick, misty realm. Her gown returns to its
original splendor, snow white, immaculate, and fit to be worn by
the highest of royalty. Melissa gazes at her hands and feet, which
are without wounds or bloody stains. Her hair is styled like an
empress’, decorated with snow-white pearls and dark burgundy
rubies. Stares, trying to peer into the mist, attempting to find a
way out. A small child suddenly grasps her hand, startling her. The
child is dressed in a miniature wedding gown resembling Melissa’s.
It is also a plush, bright white and decorated in snow-white pearls
dangling on thin golden fibers. Her hair is a silky jet black. Her
faultless smile accents her beautiful brown skin. Her voice petite
and soothing, she speaks.

“Don’t be frightened. Come with me.”
Melissa reluctantly follows as the child tugs her arm lightly.
“Where am I?” Melissa asks
“You don’t recognize this place? You are home.”

Melissa gazes around. She finds herself within the cloud king
-
dom she has dreamed of only once before.
“Home?” Melissa whispers questionably.
Small bushes of pearly white roses suddenly surround Melissa
and the child. The bushes are just as she remembers. The small
clouds pass over each stem with a graceful embrace. The small
child releases Melissa’s hand. Melissa slowly kneels and admires
the aromatic bouquets. Placing her face directly amongst them,
she inhales deeply, putting her mind at ease. The enticing smell
seems to cast a spell upon Melissa as her eyes sway slowly with
each soft breath. She quietly stands and smiles gently, while continuing to look down at the beautiful flowers. The child grasps
Melissa’s hand once more and guides her through the cloudy oasis.
“Do you like this place?” the child asks.
“Yes, I love this place,” Melissa answers quickly.
“You can stay as long as you like.”
“I can?” Melissa asks, enveloped within a thoughtless daze.
“How?”
“Just relax, stop fighting what is inevitable. You will be wor-
shipped by billions, all of which will be at your beckoning.” The
child’s eyes fire that witchy green glow, but it subsides quickly.
Melissa doesn’t notice this sudden change; she is in awe of her
surroundings.
“I don’t understand?” Melissa’s demeanor becomes lethargic
and weak. She speaks as if defenseless to the power of suggestion.
“Don’t worry about that now. Let us continue our walk.” The
little girl again tugs Melissa’s arm gently and continues to guide her.
“I feel awful tired,” says Melissa as she lifts her free hand to
catch a developing yawn. Removing her hand from her face, she
notices that her surroundings have changed once more. Melissa
finds herself on a familiar street. The two family homes burst with
children’s laughter as the children enjoy the bright sunny day. Pol-
len drifts along with the swift, soft breeze. The deep green bushes
are well trimmed and handsomely decorated with dazzling batches
of colorful flowers. Across the street, some children play with
huge, colored, plastic blocks decorated with large numbers. As the
children arrange the blocks, they look over at Melissa and wave as
if excited to see her. Melissa happily waves back.
“Do you know where you are?” The little girl directs Melissa
attention away from the children, who have arranged the numbers
666 on their front lawn.
Melissa emerges slightly from her torpid mood to answer the
child.
“Isn’t this Tipper Street in my old town, Erie?”
“That’s right,” the child answers.
“But how did we get here?”
“Don’t worry about that, just enjoy your journey. Can you
remember anyone who lives around here?”
Melissa grits her teeth as if her memory of him may be slightly
unpleasant.
“Yeah, my ex-boyfriend, Damon, but he didn’t live on this
block.”
“Anyone else?” The small girl releases a sinister smile.
Melissa’s expression grows cold. As her memory returns, the
scenery changes. She sees herself. Her legs are spread wide in the
pulpit as a stout, hairy man breaks a sweat. Her light dress is pulled
upward as he pumps fully clothed, with only the organ behind his
zipper exposed.
“Someone might see us,” says Melissa, looking slightly worried.
“Don’t worry, baby, no one is going to see us,” he says, feeling his climax nearing. “Please don’t talk.” His voice is shaky and
almost incomprehensible as he feels his groin begin to quiver with
pure erotic joy. “Ooo-shit! I love you, Melissa. I love...ooo!” The
man cannot complete his sentence as he releases into Melissa.
He drops his head in exhaustion, then reaches over to wipe his
sweat-filled beard. He slowly withdraws his hips to stand, carefully
closing his zipper. Melissa bites the gum off the back of her hand
while pulling her dress down with the other hand.
“This is between us, right?” the man asks nervously.
“Yeah, sure, Reverend Hobbs,” she answers, slapping wrinkles
out of her dress while popping a bubble. “Hey, where’s the money
you said I could have?” The reverend reaches into his pants pocket
and pulls out a wrinkled wad of green, then hands it to her.
“Here. I hope I didn’t make you late for school.”
“Naw, I could spare the two minutes,” she says as she grins and
lifts her army green backpack from behind the podium. “Goodbye.”
Suddenly the scenery changes once again, and Melissa sees herself in the Reverend’s private office as he sits behind his mahog-
any desk with a stunned expression.
“What?!”
“You heard me, I’m pregnant!” Melissa screams.
“This is bullshit, it isn’t mine!” he says as he stands up from his
plush leather executive chair.
“It is yours. You’re the only person I’ve been with!” Melissa
screams as the tears come roaring down her cheeks.
“Now we both know that’s not true,” he says, shaking his finger
like a scolding teacher. “That is just-not-true.”
“What are you talking about?!”
“You know what I am talking about, that Daniel kid. Everyone
knows you’ve slept with him, not to mention the other people.
Even your own father complains how he hears about you sleeping
around, and why you couldn’t be more like your sisters.”
Her eyes blood-shot, face flushed with anger, she screams to
the tops of her lungs, “His name is Damon, and we broke up
months ago! Fuck you and fuck my father, and whoever else said
anything can kiss my ass!”
“Look, calm down, please calm yourself.” Reverend Hobbs
begins to worry as she becomes enraged. “Okay, I’m not saying
it’s mine, but I will help you. As the pastor, I can use some of
the church funds for people in need, and I do believe you are in
need.”
“In need! In need of what?”
“An abortion of course. Isn’t that why you are here, you need
money?”
Melissa runs her hands through her dark hair, then clasps it
within a tight fist. Her voice low and unstable, she attempts to
understand his intentions. “So you don’t even care. You just wanna
forget it like it never happened. Is that it?”
“Melissa, you can’t have this baby out of wedlock. What will
people say?” His voice is still shaken.
“You don’t give a shit about any damn wed-lock, you bastard!”
Melissa looks at him with a fiendish glare.
“You couldn’t possibly be thinking about keeping it. You can’t
try to pass this off as my child. Who would believe you?” Rever-
end Hobbs’ hands shake feverishly as he clasps them together. His
beard drips nervous perspiration, which also falls from his eyebrows.
Melissa looks away, taking a moment to pace the room. She
speaks in an acquiescent tone, giving up this fight with Reverend
Hobbs.
“Okay, I guess you’re right. No one would believe me, not even
my own father.” Her voice becomes low and less threatening.
“Now see, you understand. An abortion will be the best
thing. God knows we all make mistakes, we all have our
weaknesses. Here, I can set you up with a clinic in Millcreek,
this way no one has to know.” The fidgety reverend thumbs
through his rolodex. “Here.” He hands Melissa a small white
card, then opens one of his desks drawers and pulls out a gray
metal box. “You’re going to need 362 dollars,” he says, opening the box with a small key he’s pulled from his pocket. He
carefully counts out the exact amount of money, then lifts it

toward Melissa. She stands there with a blank expression. Wet
and dry tears coat her face. “I’ll make the appointment for Saturday morning at nine o’clock. Is that okay?” Melissa continues
her blank stare at the Reverend. “Is there something else?” he
asks nervously.

“Yeah, there is something.”
“What?” he responds, afraid of what she may say.
“How did you know exactly how much it would cost?” Melissa

asks as she snatches the money and the little white card. “Maybe
someone might believe me. Don’t worry, Rev, I’ll get rid of this
bastard child, but who knows what I might say or do later.” She
lifts her backpack and storms out of the office.

Reverend Hobbs wipes his face as the perspiration begins to
mount once more. Taking a few deep breaths, he falls deep into
thought for a moment. He blots his clammy hands on his shirt and
allows his jittery fingers to sift through his rolodex once again. He
pulls out another small white card. Peering at it for just a moment,
he decides to dial. A few rings later, someone answers.

“Hello?”
“Margaret, how are you? This is Dorlan.
“Oh, hi, Dorlan, how is everything?”
“Everything is wonderful, the church is doing great.”
“How’s Sylvia and the kids?”
“They are all just wonderful, thank you for asking. Margaret, is

George around?”
“He sure is. Hold on for a moment.”
Reverend Hobbs is intensely nervous.
“Hello, Dorlan, how you been?”
“Fine, I couldn’t be better. George, I wanted to know if I may

talk to you about a personal matter?”
“Sure, Dorlan, go ahead.”
“If it’s possible, could we meet somewhere?”
“Just tell me when and where.”
“Saturday afternoon, about two, at Mel’s, is that okay?”
“Sure, that’s fine, could you give me some sort of hint of what

this is about?”
Reverend Hobbs pauses for a brief moment, then continues.
“Well, it’s about your daughter and that colored boy, Damon,

and some other things I think you should know about.”
“What has she done now?!”
“Now, George, don’t go gettin’ yourself in a frenzy, let me talk

to you first. And please don’t tell your wife or Melissa anything
until after.”
“No problem, I look forward to seeing you.”
“Okay, George, I’ll see you then, goodbye.”
Melissa looks on as her past is played out right before her
eyes.
“It was him,” she says, her voice choked in anger.
“Yes it was,” the child answers in a sticky sweet voice and then
continues. “He met with your daddy after he was sure you had the
abortion and told him all types of stuff. You trusted him with all
your secrets, and he used them all against you. He betrayed you.
Your father didn’t even hear your side of the story, he just waited
for you and told you to get out. Reverend Hobbs was smart, he
knew how your father thought, and he used that. He knew that
your father could only stand so much and that he was already on
the edge with you. Hobbs just gently pushed him over.”
“Why are you showing me this?! Why!” Melissa asks angrily.
“Yes, that’s right, get angry, you should be angry. Look at the
two men who ruined your life.”
Melissa suddenly finds herself and the child back on Tipper
Street once more. Two men walk out onto the porch of the house
she stands in front of. The two men smile as they stand wearing
their preachers’ black. They stare off at the sky in deep contemplation.
“How long has she been gone?” asks Reverend Hobbs.
“I don’t know, years. To be honest, I’m just glad the little whore
is gone.”
“Hey, anyone can have a bad apple.”
Melissa is shocked, hearing the men talk like this. Suddenly the
blood in her brain begins to boil. She wants to rush up onto the
porch, crush their heads in with a rock, and strangle them. But she
feels powerless, only able to stand and watch. Not able to change
anything.
“Melissa, look at them, look how they talk about you, and they
are supposed to be men of God. Look what they have done to
your life.” Melissa stares at the two men with pure rage, then suddenly she feels something materialize within her hand. A huge
black dagger decorated with carvings of black ravens. She finds
herself grasping it tightly. “This is your chance to get even, allow
your heart to grow black so that I may show you the way. Permit
me to convert your soul, make it easy. Destroy them, and your
journey to the black kingdom will be complete, and the lost souls
of Asylum will be released.” The young child’s words of strength
mesmerize Melissa. She is no longer under her own control as she
stares at the men with bloodthirsty eyes. The young child’s eyes
release their menacing witchy green, along with a sudden voice
change. “Get them, they deserve it, pierce their hearts and watch
the blood flow. Stab them once, twice, three times, or a hundred, it
doesn’t matter, Mother!” The child is staring at Melissa but then is
disturbed by a strange noise.
The child glares back as if looking for someone, then
becomes agitated. “What are you waiting for, go, do what you
feel!” Melissa walks toward the chattering men who don’t even
notice her. “Destroy them!” The child’s evil voice rends the air.
Melissa raises the razor-sharp dagger. She steps closer. The two
men continue their casual conversation. They cannot see Melissa
stepping toward them. Melissa, as if under a spell, never blinks;
her eyes are wide and fixed on her victims. The child is disturbed
once more. She stares backward, releasing a threatening growl,
and her eyes increase in intensity. “Kill them now!” Melissa
raises her arms, grasping the dagger tightly as she stands directly
in front of the conversing men. “Hurry! Do it!” the evil child
blares.
Without warning, a small flock of white doves swoops in front
of Melissa, shattering her daze. She drops the dagger and turns.
The little girl has changed into the small, skinless demon with the
piercing blue eyes. Melissa gasps in awe and terror. She is suddenly
back within the cloud kingdom, and the heavenly doves encircle
the skies above. A swarm of sinister ravens swoops down from
another distant realm. The black flock streaks toward the white
doves. Sounds of immortal combat emanate from all corners of
this once tranquil domain. A mist of blood showers Melissa as the
opposing clans clash. Her once white dress is now covered with
tiny pinpoint drops of blood. Black and white feathers fall from
the sky, saturated with crimson. The sky resounds of hideous
squeals of pain and torment. Melissa lifts her hands, only to reveal
two palms filled with blood-soaked feathers. Her mouth open
wide with a frozen scream, she looks over at the little demon. It
stands there with its mouth wide as well, allowing the blood rain
to soak its face and tongue. It turns toward Melissa, licking its thin
lips.
“See you later, Mother,” the little demon says in a sticky sweet
voice and with a devilish smile.
Melissa awakens. The black rainstorm continues outside her
windows. Her heart pounds as blood rushes through her body.
Her skin is colorless and clammy, her hands cold and numb.
Melissa stands, with vague memories of her violent nightmare.
The child, Reverend Hobbs, my father, what’s happening to
me?
Clasping locks of her hair in a tight fist, she struggles to calm
the migraine that ravages her head. Melissa attempts to stand,
grasping the headboard for support. She walks toward the door as
the shrieks of lightning intensify.
Somethin’ is wrong, I gotta go to the hospital now.
Melissa struggles to open the door. Her head is throbbing. The
electricity is still out, so the house remains cold and dark. She can
barely see; only the continuous bolts of lightning flashing through
the windows guide her way.
Slowly reaching out, she turns the doorknob. The door opens,
exposing a room with a bed that has not been slept in at all.
“Where is he?” Melissa looks over at a porcelain mug with a
clock centered within it. “Four o’clock in the morning, where
could he be so early?” Melissa closes the door to the undisturbed
room and staggers downstairs. A jolt of pain shrieks through her
skull, forcing her to stumble slightly. Maintaining her balance, she
grips the wooden banister. Following familiar shadows, she guides
herself to the kitchen.
“Morgan?” she calls softly. “Morgan?”
The ringing of the phone shatters the quiet and hurls Melissa’s
heart in a frenzy. She lifts the receiver to stop the ungodly noise.
Trying to catch her breath, she hears a woman’s voice.
“Hello. Hello?!” Melissa hears as she lifts the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” Melissa replies.
“Who is this?” an angry voice asks.
“Melissa.” Melissa’s voice is still shaken as she continues to fight
the pain within her head.
“Who?”
“A friend of Morgan’s.”
“Let me speak to Morgan, friend!”
“I’m not sure where he is, but I don’t think he’s here.”
“Well, look, friend, you tell that damn brother of mine I’m sick
of his games. You tell him grandma and grandpa are not in Flor-
ida, Mexico, or the Caribbean, nor have they ever been. I have
checked! You tell him I don’t know what the hell is going on, but
I will be flying in Monday morning, and he’d better stop playing
games! Also, you let him know that I know he has long since been
fired from the fire department, so he can stop lying about that!
You got all that, friend?!”
“Yeah,” Melissa answers, confused and still in pain.
The furious woman slams the phone down.
For the first time, Melissa feels as if she and her child are in dan-
ger. Her hands shake. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts.
I gotta get out of this house, somethin’ is wrong, I can feel it.
The baby, I gotta go to the emergency room! My head is poundin’!
Melissa picks up the receiver. Squinting because of the lack of
light and her migraine, she presses 9-1-...suddenly the phone is
snatched from the wall.
“Who are you calling this time of morning?” Morgan’s silhou-
ette stands in front of her, with his eyes glowing bright green.
“You look sick. Come, let me take you where you can rest.”
Melissa screams as loud as she can. With all of her might, she
pushes Morgan into the kitchen table. The table collapses as Morgan crashes to the floor. Gripping her stomach, Melissa turns and
starts to run. As she reaches for the door latch, she is snatched by
her hair and slammed onto the floor.
“You are making this harder than it has to be.” Morgan’s once
calm, soothing voice has been altered to a deep and sinister tone.
Melissa is in intense agony as her head pounds with each heartbeat.
“Stop fighting it! The pain could already be gone if you had fol-
lowed your heart and slew those two men. Rest, Melissa, you will
be given another chance to ease your pain, but even if you choose
not to, it will be all over soon anyway, two more moons.” Morgan
looks deep into Melissa’s eyes, causing her to feel faint. His glow-
ing stares force Melissa to drift into a deep sleep. Before she drifts,
however, she is able to mutter a small sentence.
“Please, God...help me.”