WfW ~ howling at the moon ...

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The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.  The aim of the words is to encourage us to write.   A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.  If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along to read it and add a few encouraging words.  This month the words/prompts are supplied by River at Drifting Through Life and can be found right [here.]

Today, I'm starting a series of short spooky tales for Halloween...

    It was a sound like nothing she'd ever heard before.  A screech that trailed off to a low growl, so low she almost felt it vibrating in her bones more than with her ears.  She stood, frozen on the path through the woods, unsure if she should go forward or back the way she came.  The screech had started behind her, but the growl came from ahead.

    She looked to the woods on either side of her.  Dusk was falling quickly and if she didn't make a decision soon, it would be made for her.  Ahead were the distant lights glowing already from the village.  Behind her, a mist was beginning to rise from the ground making the path back hard to see, and on each side, the trees were crowding out what little light was left from the setting sun.

    Forward it would have to be, and she took a few steps towards the village.  Something wet and warm landed on her right arm.  Her first thought was that it was a large dollop of bird poop, and she involuntarily gagged at the thought.  But when she looked, it wasn't the white color she was expecting to see.  Instead, it looked almost black in the fading light.

    "What the ..."  Her words faltered.  "This is just crazy."  She walked faster, almost a run now, desperate to reach the lights of the village.  She could just barely see a flashing roadside marquee announcing an upcoming fall bazaar.

    Something started running through the underbrush behind to her right and she moved to the left side of the path, running faster.  She heard, no, felt the growl again coming from the left and moved to the center of the path.  Running so fast now that she thought her heart would burst, she finally broke free of the woods and stumbled into a pub with a pink faded sign that said "The Antique Rose" where she could hear music playing.

    The music stopped abruptly as she fell to the floor of the pub.  Without looking up, she began to laugh hysterically.

    Breathlessly she finally blurted out, "Oh, I'm so sorry for crashing your party but the most bizarre thing just happened to me."  Standing now, hair in her eyes, she tightened her belt, and with the back of her left arm, she awkwardly pushed the hair out of her eyes.

    Before she could inhale enough to let out a scream, the room full of werewolves set upon her and ripped her throat out.

🐺🐺🐺

    "Joe-Joe, lemme see that boomerang yer pops brung ya from 'Stralia"

    "No, Pete.  Pops said it weren't no toy and I can't bring it outsides to play with."

    "I ain't wantn' ta play with it.  I jus' wanna holds it fer a minute.  I'll give ya a gallon of cherry Twizzlers if'n ya get it f'me to hold."

    "Where ya gonna gets a gallon of Twizzlers?  Ya ain't got no money."

    "No, but ma just shopped fer her office and gots a cupla gallons in the back seat of her car to take in t'marra.  I can lift one fer ya."

    "You'd do that?  Well.  Sure then I guess.  Just fer a minute."

    Both boys took off running in opposite directions, coming back a few moments later with their treasures under their arms.

    "I can't stay out long, Pete.  My ma said there was sumthin in the newspaper this morning about missin' kids and she wants me home before the street lights come on."

    "Yeah, yeah, yeah.  My ma wrote sumthin on the calendar last night about some guy named Babycakes strikes again."

    "Baby cakes?  Who the heck is that?  A baseball player?"

    "I don't think so.  She was crying when she wrote it.  It's on the calendar five times already this month."  Pete pretended to fling the boomerang, and Joe-Joe tried to grab it from him. 

    "Give it back, Pete.  I told you I can't play with it and my ma wants me home.  Look.  The first streetlight just came on.  Give it here!  I've got to go or she's gonna whoop my hide."

    "Fine.  Fetch!"  With that, he flung it as hard as he could into the darkness.

    "Thanks, Pete.  My dad is going to kill me now."

    "No, he ain't.  Just wait.  It'll come back.  That's what boomerangs do.  Listen, hear that noise?  I bet that's it right now."

    The boomerang dropped to the ground in front of both boys, causing them to scream and run in the direction of their homes, leaving the gallon of Twizzlers behind.  Blood oozed from the neck of Pete's dad, still stuck to the top of the blade.  His eyes had a surprised look, and he was wearing clown face paint with a small cupcake hat elastic strapped to the top of his head.

    Guess there won't be any dessert tonight after dinner at Pete's house.