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ONE GHOST OF A WITCH
Denise’s friends are acting strange, she is missing time, falling into visions, and to top it all off she is pregnant. Denise needs to get away fast but there is no place to go and no one will believe the strange things that are happening to her. She has only one person that she can trust—herself.
ONE ANGRY SPIRIT
John ducks into a graveyard to avoid arrest, but the spirit that haunts doesn’t like his partying ways any more than the police do. The eyeballs soon come for him, staring and penetrating eyes, eyes that corner him, forcing him into a crypt. The door seals and the angry spirit leaves him a coffin that contains his worst fear.
John flinched as something scraped against the backside of the crypt that he stood in front of. He told himself that it was just his imagination, yet his heart throbbed quickly. A shadow crept over the top of the tomb and then moved down the pathway, stopping right in front of him. The darkness changed length and shape and then became the silhouette of a man. The shadow oozed and pulsated before transforming itself into the image of Dr. Vulture.
Dr. Vulture leaped right in John’s face. John flinched and took a step back, having to grab onto the crypt wall in order to remain standing.
“This is my graveyard. Is there anyone that you want me to bring back to life for you?” Dr. Vulture bowed before John.
John paused for a prolonged moment. He stared at Dr. Vulture with ever bulging eyes. He said, “T-That’s okay.”
“A relative? Perhaps someone famous? You know there are quite a few well-known souls buried here.” Dr. Vulture put his hand on his head and his elbow on the crypt next to him. He leaned against it and crossed his ankles.
“I don’t think so.”
Something popped on the top of John’s head when Dr. Vulture burst out laughing. John took off running down the path, and the others stayed right with him. His chest was rigid and taut. He cut a corner as exhilaration swirled around inside his body. A chill came upon his skin, one that made the hairs on his arms stand erect, one that made him quiver. What he observed made him miss his next breath, but John saw no way of avoiding it. The raven flew overhead. He glanced up at the cock, which let go of the eye that it held in its beak. The eyeball landed just ahead of him. It inched toward him via its long and trailing optic nerve. The eye tilted back, staring him right in the face.
Four corpses stood before him, each a recent arrival at the cemetery. Each corpse possessed bloody eye sockets from which their eyes had been ripped out. They moved toward him.
“Can we get out of here now? I really want to wake up and go to the bathroom.” Beth looked at her hand for her cigarette, which she had dropped.
“I’m gone.” Stan walked away at a brisk pace.
“Let’s go.” John turned and caught up with Stan fast.
“So which way is the way out?” Beth asked.
“How the fuck would I know. I thought that way was. Damn it, I can’t believe this shit!” John said.
“Well, we can’t go that way,” Stan said.
“What do you want me to do about it?” John looked at Stan with a hard look.
“I think that bastard’s driving us to something. He did it because you brought us into this fucking graveyard, John,” Beth said.
~ * ~
Several minutes later, John came to the next intersection. He turned, but Stan went straight. Beth stood in the middle of both roads, glancing each way for a moment or so before following Stan. John knew that he had chosen the right direction, certain that Stan was only going deeper into the cemetery. He pressed on without them.
John passed another crypt with its door open, balking as an eyeball slithered out from around the side of it and blocked his path. The eye scurried right up to him. It tilted up and stared at him. He stopped, but the gaze of the eye penetrated him. A cringe worked its way through his abdomen, one that stirred up the contents of his stomach, and one that made him bite his tongue.
John spun around only to see two more eyes scamper out and stare him down. He planned to turn around and stomp that single eye, telling himself that it was only an eyeball and that it couldn’t harm him. He inhaled hastily and spun about, sucking in his lower lip and biting down on it, deciding to do it fast. John gasped and experienced a sharp pain between his breasts. Hundreds of eyeballs glared at him, filling the path.
Tom Arbino is a novel, playwright, poet, and the founder of Crown Chakra Zen.
Book Publisher: Wings ePress
No. of Pages: 319
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