The candles created a music that caused the shadows to dance. A finger pointed to a rickety chair. Harvey closed his coat, straightened his pants and sat. He sniffed, and said, “Your little den stinks.”

“How’d you find me?” The voice was ridden with disinterest.

“Wasn’t as easy as last time, but, you’re not as clever as you are fucked up,” Harvey replied, pulling out a smoke and sparking it up.

“The waitress, she gave me away.” Not a question.

“When I stumbled upon her staring at her feet even though they were on the other side of the room it made me think that it’s not the shenanigans of a normal fuck-up. It could only be the work of a special fuck-up, one like you,” Harvey said, taking another hit.

It nodded.

Harvey drew on his cigarette before letting free the smoke. He watched the freak through the rising blue tendrils. “Last time I took pity, this time...”

The thing cut him off. “This time no slap on the wrist.” It drew its legs up to its chest from its place in the corner.

Harvey nodded, and said, “Correct. This time I’m gonna do the job properly.” Harvey dropped the cigarette, leant forward and screwed it into the thick layer of dust on the floor.

The thing chuckled and then coughed.

Harvey knew why the sound was so odd. “Like a leech, gorged far past the point of satiation.”

The thing struck its bony chest and hacked up a quart’s worth of congealed blood and then laughed. “The overspill always ends up in my lungs. In '98 I forgot to purge and the blood scabbed.”

“That won’t happen again.” Harvey promised.

The thing ignored him and looked over to the stone coffin. “I sat with her for over a month after you’re father had slain her. I didn’t leave the mausoleum, not even to eat, imagine what I looked like then.”

Harvey looked over at long, cracked stone box, then back to the thing.

"Let's get this over with."

The thing managed another chuckle and another little cough as it spent the rest of the blood in its lungs. "I made you show yourself, you have no weapons. There is no way you can finish me. Not unless you've somehow earned a wooden leg and plan to dance upon my chest."

The thing laughed loud, and it laughed long.

Harvey shrugged and said, "You things are sly, so I need to be sharper, keener, and a little more thoughtful." He left the chair and headed over to the stone coffin. He ran a hand around the length of it before stopping. He looked over his shoulder. "You've become too comfortable with your skills and that's wrong, and it goes for any occupation.

"Please, entertain me, how do you plan on vanquishing me?"

Harvey turned around. His zipper was down, his penis was out and he had his dominant hand around it.

The thing cackled. "Hardly an apt weapon, though perhaps impressive to the ladies that enjoy a shallow ploughing."

Harvey strode forward and started to urinate in the direction of the thing. The first drop that touched brought forth a scream. The trickle a howl. The full flow a bestial shriek that threatened to crack the very stone around them.

His urine worked like the lash of a whip, stroking runs in the thing's skin, delving deep into the flesh. It cowered as it was wounded and wetted. "How?" Was its call.

Harvey pissed until he could piss no more. "Nobody said holy water needed to be carried within a vessel such as a flask, or a vial, did they?"

The thing grunted.

Harvey picked up the old chair and broke it. He grabbed one of the legs from the rubble and bore down upon the pitiful creature. "And now I have a stake. I knew the chair would be here. Do you know why I know? Because, like you I've sat on it before. I sat on it whilst my father purged this world of your mother. He cut her mother-fucking head clean off. Your turn." Harvey raised the stake and then crashed it down into the things chest. It hollered for a second and then gargled as its insides shuddered and faltered to a stop.

Harvey gave his penis a shake, only two though; his father had always said that anything more than two shakes can be construed as masturbation.

"Anything More Than Two"
Copyright: © 2010 Lee Hughes

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Lee's writings can be found around most of the darkest haunts. You can find out more at LeeHughes.net

Donny had openly lied to them. They deserved it, and probably more. There wasn't a sign pointing to their farm for a simple reason. They didn't want any visitors. The last visitors had been none too friendly when they'd turned up in their big cars and their helicopters throwing crying gas and coughing gas and putting a fist-sized hole in Daddy's forehead before taking away Daddy's collection of town-kids.

Donny watched the dainty arms and the way that they spilled from her sleeves. The little sprinkle of silvery bracelet caught the sunlight and it tickled his eyes. He watched the way her hands ran over her swollen belly. She looked plum-full to bursting. Donny didn't smile; he could imagine what they were thinking, what they were calling him in their minds. Hillbilly Hick-Boy, Mother-Kisser, Granny-Poker, Brother-Blowing Bumpkin, and a whole load more names which, although true, were none too nice to be saying.

"Well? Can we use your phone?" the man asked. He wore jeans as if dungarees were too good for him.

"You gonna leave money beside it when you done?" Donny asked, although his eyes were on the young woman and he wondered if she could sing. There'd been no singing in the house since they'd killed Daddy and taken away the singers.

The woman giggled. "Is he talking about the table by the phone or the table by his momma's bed?"

The man made his lips slant slightly with mirth. "I have money."

Donny was staring at the woman. He was trying to decide if she was serious. If she was then they could go on up and have a go on momma as long as they did leave some money.

"The phone's in the parlour." Donny stepped back and held open the torn screen-door. He smelt the woman as she past and he nearly went dizzy. Donny looked about and then quickly closed the door.

There was a thumping coming from upstairs.

"What's that?" the man asked warily.

"That's Momma's elbow-stump trying to get my attention. Her legs don't work since the tractor accident so she's stuck in bed."

They heard another two thumps.

Donny smiled. "It's okay, just the two thuds means she's lonely. Three thumps for hungry, three for thirsty, four for the potty and twelfty-seven in a row real fast if she's got to go bad!" Donny hooted.

His guests looked at him.

"The phone?" the man reminded him.

"Just through there." Donny pointed vaguely through the junk-cluttered room towards a doorway.

The man looked to his girl. "Wait here, I won't be a minute."

The girl looked around. She'd seen tidier dumpsters, ones that had smelled better too.

Donny decided it was time to make his move. He smiled and tried to look as though mischief wasn't on his mind as he sidled over to the uneven dresser. A newspaper on its surface sheltered Little Chop-Chop.

Singing erupted upstairs.

"Momma's singing again!" shouted Donny, forgetting all about the hand-axe.

The girl looked at him as though he was cuckoo. "That's screaming, you dumb-fuck."

"No that's singing! Ain't been no singing in this house since they killed my daddy and took away his singers!"

The singing stopped. Donny looked sad.

"She's stopped singing now."

The woman chuckled and shook her head.

The man came back into the room, he had removed his shirt. His body was covered in scars and tattoos. Donnie saw the knife, saw the blood on it too.

"Momma?"

"Dead," The man said, and then looked to his girl, "he lied about the phone. But this is the place, baby. I remember it, although I spent most of the time down in the cellar singing."

The girl grinned and looked all giddy.

The man turned back to Donny who was heading for Little Chop-Chop again.

"Don't bother. We're here to carry on with your father's work. He was closer than he thought to communicating with the Beast. I'm sure I saw Him once listening in the corner whilst we all sang. We're going to fill this house with song again, and I think I'd like to hear you sing first."

"The Devil's Choir"
Copyright: © 2009 Lee Hughes

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Lee Hughes's short fiction has or is due to appear on, Thrillers,Killers 'n' Chillers, A Twist of Noir, Flashshots, The DailyTourniquet, MicroHorror, Blink-Ink, Powder Burn Flash. And in print inthe anthology, Cern Zoo: Nemonynous 9. Find out more at www.LeeHughes.net