Under the costume of Percival the Pumpkin sweat beaded down Kristopher’s back. His hair was a mop of sweat. And, he was a bit hungry.

He chuckled. This thievery was on a dare from his friends. Sure, he saw Lisa chicken out and return the Gudrun the Ghost costume - not him. They wouldn’t catch him.

Nope!

Kristopher ducked into an alley and headed toward his house. Brick buildings climbed the sky, hiding his plump frame as he hurried along. Dumpsters that reeked of rotten food sat here, sat there. A rat scurried out in front of him, squealing, startled at his presence, quickly running off.

Time passed. The alley seemed to stretch farther and farther away from Kristopher’s destination. Clouds blocked out the warm sun overhead and the fear that he may very well be lost grabbed his hand. Not a whiff of a noise came from the busy streets.

Everything had grown quiet, like the inside of a buried coffin.Kristopher continued on, running further, finally having to stop. He was worn out. The damn costume was like an oven. No doubt he would have to take it off. When he attempted to do so, it wouldn’t budge.

Something wasn’t right; maybe there was a trick to it, he wondered, as he fumbled for a zipper that was not there.
While struggling to break free there was a noise behind him, added with a voice: “There he is!”

Christopher turned to face a small group of men sitting on black horses, wearing black cloaks, their faces hidden under the hoods. One man held a white flag with a large carving knife displayed on it. At the blade’s tip a drop of blood fell.

“Do not move, Percival!”

Taking no chances, Kristopher rocketed away with their voices chasing: “Get him!”

Rounding a corner brought Kristopher to a dead end. He was trapped.

One horseman caught up to him and slipped off his horse, grabbing a cleaver out of its leather sheath. “Come on, Percival. The King will need to see you. Pumpkin pie is a delicacy at the Castle.”

Something shifted behind Kristopher, like the scraping of bones. Twisting around, he saw a girl in a white dress standing in a doorway.

“Come with me! Hurry!” she demanded.

Kristopher did not think twice. Off he went, slipping through the brick doorway swallowed in darkness, eluding his pursuers.

“Hurry!” the girl’s voice drifted out of the dark, ahead of him. His vision was blinded. If he stumbled and fell, he wasn’t so sure he could rise back up, stuck inside this small furnace.

A light sparkled above, bathing the lawn in a moon’s glow, as he hurried along - until abruptly slide to a stop.

He nearly slipped over the edge of a cliff. Two pinwheels for arms and hands, he caught himself, and stepped back breathing heavily.

Below was a large splash of darkness. His heart beat rapidly, like the beating of a man’s fists against the inside of a coffin.

“Where are we going? Where to no-?” Kristopher’s words were severed as two hands pushed him forward. As his body tumbled end over end, he saw the girl’s face peek over. The flesh on her face peeled away like strips of wallpaper as if some invisible blade worked its magic, revealing a dark crimson shade, and her mouth gaped open in a sinister cackle.

When he hit the ground his body split apart. Slivers and bits and pieces of Kristopher scattered like roaches under a kitchen light. Slowly, each sunk into the earth.

Below ground lay a conveyer belt where bits of Kristopher fell. Each piece of him - a right eye, a left eye, the tip of a finger, a little toe - traveled along on a conveyer belt through a metallic tunnel until a huge pot with a crackling flame underneath came into view.

When Kristopher’s eyes saw this, they watered and twitched with life. Slowly, each piece of Kristopher slipped into the pot and began to boil with a gurgled scream in tow. A slat grew out of the side and three small pumpkin pies began to emerge.

Soon, they were picked up by reptilian hands from under the long sleeves of a robe and carried to where a short, pudgy King with a long white beard sat snoring away on his throne.

Someone cleared their throat.

“Huh, er, what?” the King woke up, startled. Using the back of his hand he wiped saliva from his mouth.

“Your pies, Sire.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” The King cleared his own throat and coughed.

“Bring me one.”

Before the King bit into the first pie, ignoring the muffled screams under the brown layer, he said under his breath: “Lookout tummy! Lookout gums! Poor, poor Percival, you have always been on the run!”

"Percival the Pumpkin"

Copyright: © 2009 Brick Marlin

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Brick Marlin is married to a woman who keeps him chained up in a room so he won't try and escape from home and turn his fiction into reality, Brick Marlin resides in the Ohio Valley. Brick has written and published numerous short stories and novels. His books include The Darkened Image, Raising Riley, Saturated and Crimson, and his most recent Dark Places of Rest. Next year two of his books, Sectors (Whiskey Creek Press) and An Ensanguined Path (Double Dragon Publishing), will be released.

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Betsy Boo did not live in a shoe. She lived in a large house with colorful walls, nice furniture, and a kitchen decorated in the finest décor. Since cows were her favorite, she had pictures of them grazing in fields or stickers stuck on the door of the refrigerator. There was even a clock in the shape of one, mooing every time the clock struck the hour.

Anyhow, she was an overly-compulsive-lady who kept the house clean. Any crevice where dirt lay had no chance of survival from her cleaner and rag. She would swipe the spot clean of dirt so it would shine, shine, shine.

One day, she felt as if someone was looking at her through the window. When she turned, no one was there. It gave her a slight chill, but she quickly brushed it off, thinking that it was only her imagination.

So, as the day progressed she went outside and slipped into her car. It was always a mystery to her that she did not ever have to steer the wheel because it delivered her exactly where she wanted to go, across the soft terrain of the ground, to her boyfriend’s house. His place was a bit smaller and looked as if it needed some work - a good cleaning I should add. Though, it didn’t stop her from enjoying her time with him.

To Betsy, he was very nice, sincere, and above all, handsome.

Soon, after eating lunch and drinking a cup of coffee, Betsy was sitting in her car and on the way back home. She felt her visits were never long enough. But, oh well. That night, while she sat in her favorite recliner, relaxing from cleaning the kitchen, she once again felt a presence looking at her through the window. And, as before, when she turned to look, it was gone.

This time it really gave her a chill!

So, the following day, while cleaning, she heard something rustle behind her. To her horror, coming through the front door was a gigantic hand. She froze. She tried to let lose a scream, but it stopped in her throat. She pressed against the wall and as it pulled her out of her house, she dangled in mid-air, inches from a large blue eye. A huge smile grew under a plump nose and the breath of chocolate and peanut butter covered her face.

From above, another giant hand reached down and wrenched Betsy Boo’s head off. Oddly, feeling no pain, watching as she drew away from her headless body, her head was placed on the ground.

And what came next was even more horrifying.

Another woman’s head was snapped onto Betsy’s body.

Betsy wanted to scream. She watched as the giant placed Betsy’s old body with the new woman’s head back into her house.

Now, she was mad!

Darkness came hours later as the head of Betsy still lay on the ground, forgotten. She would have figured the least the giant could do was to bury her properly. It was very rude.

So, Betsy decided to get her body back and return to her house. Whatever it took. How dare some huge hand steal her away from her own house! How dare some other woman come in and snatch away her only body and live in her house! Then, another terrified thought arrived: Charles, her boyfriend. Would this woman steal her love?

Now, she was not only mad, but furious!

Slowly, she managed to rock back and forth and roll her head toward the house. Luckily the ground was soft. If it had been hard, she figured she might have come away with a few bruises. In no time, the head of Betsy arrived on the porch.

Using her cheek, she tried to open the front door. It was unlocked! Good. Darkness fell inside with a spear of light coming through one window. She rolled inside and her eyes caught the silhouette of the woman sitting in a chair. Her favorite chair where she always relaxed after a tiring day of cleaning!

This would not do.

She rolled over to the woman’s feet and bumped them. Nothing happened. She bumped them again. It took three tries when, finally, the woman awoke.

She stirred in her seat.

“Hey!” Betsy shouted. “You there! Get out of my house and give me back my body!”
The woman peered down at her, shocked, and drew in a deep breath. “Wh-what do you want?” the lady asked.

“You have my body! I want it back!” barked Betsy.

“Your body? It’s mine!” the woman defended.

“How could it be yours? I had it first!”

The woman began to say something, then let lose a chuckle.

“What’s so funny!”

“Look at me. Can’t you see my face? We are one in the same. We both share this body. I’m Betsy Boo and so are you.”

“What? What did you say?”

The woman leaned forward, where the light could show off her facial features.

Betsy snuffed a scream.

It was the same face as Betsy, but with different colored long hair, green eyes, and a different shade of lipstick.

“We are both Betsy Boo,” the woman explained. “We came out of a package. We are only dolls, my dear...”

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* * *

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The next day the giant stepped into the room. When Betsy’s head was discovered, it was snatched out of the house and stuck onto the shoulders of another doll who wore pink colored pajamas with a picture of a frog sewn into the chest. Her new body was placed up high on the shelf as she watched the “other” Betsy Boo get into the car and drive straight to Charles’ house.

Betsy grumbled and under her breath said: “Two-timer!”

"Betsy Boo"
Copyright: © 2009 Brick Marlin
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Married to a woman who keeps him chained up in a room so he won't try and escape from home and turn his fiction into reality, Brick Marlin resides in the Ohio Valley. Brick has written and published numerous short stories and novels. His books include The Darkened Image, Raising Riley, Saturated and Crimson, and his most recent Dark Places of Rest.