September 2006 Issue The Horror Library, your Haunted Home for Horror Fiction, Dark Art, Horror Games, Movie Reviews, Book Reviews, Non-Fiction, Alternative Music, Horror Authors, Horror Short Fiction and featuring The Terrible Twelve - RJ Cavender, Bailey Hunter, Boyd E Harris, Megg Roper, Jason Beirens, CJ Hurtt, Eric Stark, Cordelia Snow, Chris Perridas, Curt Mahr, Stephen Sommerville, M Louis Dixon, Kerry Drummond
I don't know what to tell you. They were just fool's words issued from a fool's mouth. I realize that now.
Too bad now is too late.
It started this morning. My brain was doing its own rendition of some twisted metal/industrial/oohm-pah-pah tune on the inside of my skull when Twiggs threw the ragged jeans at me and yelled "I want coffee."
Maybe she didn't really yell, but that's how I heard it, loud and grating. Her voice was fingernails on a blackboard to me at the best of times, but with the martini induced screaming in my head, it was near unbearable.
I grumbled at her from under the jeans. "Fine. Just lower your voice will ya? Fuck. How can you be so… alive? You drank as much if not more than me last night.".
"Yeah, well, you're old. I'm not. Come on. I already called Jake and Talibah, they're gonna meet us at the bistro."
She always heckled me about my age. She thought it was funny.
That's how it started - a simple, painful trip to the coffee shop. It should have been just like any other Saturday morning, but it wasn't.
I remember the sun, excruciatingly bright. I remember the soothing dark coolness stepping inside Blue's Bistro. If I close my eyes I can see Jake and Talibah waiting at 'our' booth, smiling. Then that other face. I didn't recognize him. And in my state I didn't really care.
Twiggs was bouncing. Twiggs was always bouncing - a nubile demon is what she was. She bounced to the table hugging Jake and Talibah, flirting with the stranger. I hung back and watched her for a moment before making my way over to them.
"Hey Kent. I'd ask how you're doing, but it's obvious. You look like crap." Jake said as he slid over to make room for me.
Talibah then introduced the stranger. Said his name was Lucas or Luther or something like that. "We just met. We're gonna go to the park and mess with the water toys later."
I hid behind my hangover and merely nodded at him.
I listened to the girls titter about what they were going to do at the park. Jake was talking to the stranger about some new existential crap he found while surfing the net when the waitress came with our coffees.
The heat of the cup in my hands felt good, the smell was wonderful, but the taste. It was terrible. It was always terrible. That's when I let the fool's words out.
"Damn this swill! I'd kill for a decent cup of coffee."
"Quit your bitching old man" Twiggs squawked, while Jake and Talibah laughed.
The stranger though… He didn't laugh. He smiled, but it was crooked, like it had been hung too quickly. I remember his eyes looked strange, off in color, too dark or too deep or something.
That's when it happened. The darkness began swirling about me. I thought I would pass out, but I was not to be so lucky. I couldn't hear or see anything. Anything but the stranger, that is. It was like he was whispering inside my broken head.
"Do it then. I can get you your coffee, but first you must do your part. It's so easy. I have the tools. Take this in your hand. That's right, hold the handle tight. Feel that cool steel just begging to be plunged into their pathetic flesh. Go on. It's all so simple, so quick and easy. You know you want to, you've always wanted to. Now you can. You will get what you want from it. The most perfect cup of coffee. There will be nothing you can compare it to. It will be oh so perfect. Go on. They are waiting for you."
I don't understand why. I just don't understand.
All I know is the thought of that perfect cup of coffee was all I could see or feel. I'm sure they must have screamed or fought back, but I don't remember that. I just remember needing to kill them all. Knife in, knife down, knife out, over and over until they were fleshy ribbons sliding to the floor - then the smell of perfect coffee, the taste of perfect coffee on my lips.
The next thing I remember is being here, arms chained.
You believe me, don't you doc? You have to believe me. I'm not crazy. They were my friends. It was him, I swear. It was his fault. The stranger did this to me.
