Longing And Lust... and other short stories, page 1
© 2017 Raisa Greywood
All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is unintended and entirely coincidental.
Author’s note:
This collection of short stories was written over the past year or so for the podcast Twisted Tales, a part of Twisted Geekdom. Amateur authors were asked to submit short pieces, usually fewer than ten thousand words in length, for production as part of the podcast.
The stories have one thing in common; they are all a little bit scary but I’ve tried to stay away from the gore of modern horror. They are also quite different from my usual erotic romance. A few couples hook up in these stories, but the romance doesn’t drive the plot. A few of them share characters and locations, but they are standalone short stories that can be read independently of the others.
They are presented in the order they were written and/or recorded.
I would like to thank Jesse Gilbert and his motley crew of delightful and enthusiastic amateur readers for bringing these stories to life, and for sparking the ideas in my head. I have a great time playing live Cards Against Humanity with y’all! You can hear them at https://twistedgeekdom.podbean.com/
Special thanks to Allysa Hart for her amazing work on the cover art. You can visit Allysa at https://www.facebook.com/allycatscreations/ to see her work.
And, as always, my family deserves the bulk of my thanks for putting up with my crazy ass. Thanks for the beta reads, the consistent support, the lawn care, and the good-natured teasing when supper is late because I’m too busy writing to bother with anything as inane as food.
If you’d like to see what else I’m up to, you can visit me on Facebook, my blog at https://raisagreywood.wordpress.com/, or on Twitter @Raisa_Greywood. I love hearing from my fans!
Table of Contents
The Blood Moon Queen
A Dolly for Ella
Into the Darkness
Longing and Lust in Louisiana
The Blood Moon Queen
Special thanks to Cristina Portillo for creating a Smashwords cover for my first short story. Love ya, babe!
October 31, 2000
Bare branches tapped against the glass of my window and I shivered. Maine in late October meant the leaves were gone from the trees so there was nothing left to soften the sound.
It was Halloween and I’d dressed as a knight again. My friends made fun of me. Again. “Why not be something pretty, like a princess?” they’d asked. I wouldn’t be deterred, though. My plastic sword and boy’s knight costume made me feel strong and powerful. Besides, the costume was roomy enough for my fall jacket and jeans. I didn’t freeze like my friends who wore those gossamer costumes.
Maybe if I pretended to be brave, it wouldn’t happen again. But I knew it would. It had always happened.
My Mom always said it was just the wind and didn’t believe me. Tired and irritable after her long workday, she snapped and sent me to bed, telling me that a ten-year-old shouldn’t be afraid of monsters. She didn’t even bother kissing me good night or tucking me in, leaving me alone to cower under the thin sheets, my sugar high from too much candy raging through me, making me feel like I had bugs under my skin.
Claws scrabbled at the glass and I held back my scream as red eyes peered inside. Happy birthday to me. Just once, I’d have liked to have someone say that to me.
October 31, 2016
I scowled as I pulled my coat closer around my body. The frigid nor’easter wind tried to tug the ankle-length cashmere from my grasp but I held it tightly in a clenched fist as I unlocked the door to my office. Fuck, it was cold.
I hated this day. I hated the sounds and the smells, hated the grasping, greedy children… I took a deep, calming breath and shook my head. I didn’t hate the kids. Halloween was supposed to be fun. Gathering candy from strangers, in total opposition to everything adults ever said, was a rite of passage. Not for me, though. For me, the day was my last chance to be normal until the sun went down.
Today also marked the downhill slide to thirty. Yay for me. Happy fucking birthday. Blow out the candles and make a wish.
Tonight, the red eyes would peer into my window. It didn’t matter where I lived. I'd even tried moving to Honolulu where the days were long and the nights were hot and scented with flowers. At sundown, the red eyes would peer in the window of my high-rise apartment down the street from Diamond Head and seek me out. It was too expensive to live there, so I went home.
The minute the sun sank below the horizon, it would try to get in. Growls and screeches would fill the air as it scrabbled at my window. Dawn would bring a reprieve but I knew it would try again when Samhain ended at sundown. I’d researched it after my mother died. It was a goddamned Celtic harvest festival. Modern pop culture made it into something Hollywood scary. It was just scary enough to entertain, but not cause anyone to go into therapy.
I didn’t understand it, nor did I try to. The only thing that kept it away was someone else in my bed. If I had a partner with me, the thing stayed away.
Of course, my current lover had picked yesterday to pack up his shit and leave me a Dear Jane letter in the form of a terse, poorly worded text message. Jackass. I scowled. He wasn’t much of a lover anyway but it would have been nice if he’d waited. Would it have killed him to at least get me a cupcake with a candle in it for my birthday?
I decided to forget about Caleb the loser and dropped my messenger bag on the floor next to my desk. He wasn’t worth the brain space. I took off my coat, hanging it carefully on the coat rack next to the door. The red message indicator on my office phone blinked furiously and I wondered if I should just walk back out and find another one-night stand for the evening.
I pushed the idea away. I was twenty-six years old. It was time to put on my big girl panties and deal with my shit. I settled into her chair and pressed play to hear the messages.
Mrs. Dowling wanted her will changed. Apparently, her grandson was being a dick again. I remembered Lance from school. It was his normal behavior, from what I recalled. Elmira Dowling ought to just cut the little fuck off. He wasn’t worth her time. I had a betting pool going on with myself. The old lady was ninety-eight years old. I kept hoping that she would kick off during one of her ‘Lance is a jackass’ phases but she always relented and let the greedy little bastard keep taking advantage of her good nature.
Lucy Stevens wanted a trust set up for her autistic son. It was about damned time, too. I already had the documents prepared and Lucy just needed to sign them. Her health wasn’t great and Maddox would need care for the rest of his life.
One call for a divorce attorney. I sent that one to a colleague in Bangor. I didn’t do divorce. The idea of helping a couple end a marriage just didn't sit well with me.
The last was a number I didn’t recognize with a Massachusetts area code. A woman’s voice said, “It’s Samhain. Do you know where your monster is, Candace Denise Howard?” The woman rattled off a number and I felt like I might puke in my wastebasket. My name wasn’t too difficult to find, but I didn't know anyone in Massachusetts, and I'd certainly never told anyone about my...problem.
Well, I'd told my mother, but she'd never believed me. Not once. Not even after I'd shown her the scratches on my window frame. I'd thought she would have to believe the half inch deep gouges in the white paint but she hadn't. At least she hadn’t blamed me for the marks. I supposed that was something.
I didn’t bother answering any of my messages. On my way home, I detoured to leave documents with Lucy and Elmira but didn’t wait for them. There was a bottle of wine waiting for me and I needed to think about that last message on my voicemail.
The door to my house creaked when I slammed it behind me and I stood in the foyer, breathing hard. I dropped my coat in a puddle of wool and pulled my phone from my skirt pocket. With trembling fingers, I punched the digits from the message. I didn’t want to give myself time to think and scare myself off.
The same smoky, feminine voice from the message answered. “I’m glad you returned my call, counselor.” She said nothing else.
“What do you want?” My voice wavered. I knew the woman heard the fear in my voice but I couldn't help it.
“You’re an interesting person, Ms. Howard. You were born under a blood moon, straddling two worlds on the day when the veil between realms is thinnest. Yet you walk under the sun.”
“What are you talking about?” I didn’t understand the words. Oh, I understood the words, but not the context. What the fuck was a blood moon? Veil between realms? Nothing made any sense to me.
“Leave your window open tonight, Ms. Howard. You are no longer a child, crying for comfort that won’t come. Confront your fear.” The line went dead with a soft click.
I set the phone down gently. I really wanted to toss it against a wall, but I wasn’t willing to destroy an expensive Android, nor was I willing to deal with fixing the plaster. I dropped the phone on my coffee table and made my way into my bedroom to ditch my suit for yoga pants and a worn UH sweatshirt. I had the comfort clothes, now I just needed wine and leftover pizza.
I walked into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of wine and the half-empty pizza box from the fridge then popped the cork, not bothering to pick it up from the floor. Opening the white box of leftover pizza, I winced at the furry green coating on the pie. I shoved it back into the refrigerator and slammed the door, unwilling to deal with that particular horror.
I had tortilla chips that were more or less not stale and an unopened can of bean dip. Not classy, but there wasn’t anything else in my empty cupboards.
As I walked back to the living room, I stumbled over one of Caleb’s t-shirts and threw it out on the front porch. If it wasn’t gone by the next trash collection day, I’d toss it in the bin. It reeked of Obsession for Men anyway. I wanted to open a window a crack to get rid of the stench but the glass rattled from the force of the nor’easter. It was too damned cold for that.
I wrapped myself in my favorite afghan and settled my lazy butt on the couch then flipped on the television. The weather report didn’t look at all promising and I wondered if they would cancel the evening’s festivities. It was one thing for beggar’s night to be held in freezing temperatures or even in snow, but no parent was going to send their kid out in this. I’d probably find out tomorrow. I’d never given out candy on Halloween and I had no intention of starting.
I stuck my tongue out at the perky blonde reading the weather map and flipped through channels until something looked interesting.
I chuckled when an old Star Trek rerun revealed itself on the screen. Mindless and entertaining was exactly what I needed. Wishing I had something else, I popped open the can of dip and dragged a corn chip through the viscous substance. Unfortunately, it was either bean dip and chips or a frozen lasagna I was in no mood to cook. At least the wine was decent. I shrugged and tipped the bottle to my lips, realizing I’d forgotten a glass.
Despite years spent being responsible for myself, paying my bills and holding a good job, I wasn’t adulting very well. I felt a little ashamed but decided to call it a mental health day and tried not to think about what would come when the sun went down. I almost wanted to call the strange number again, but I got the feeling the woman would refuse to answer.
Star Trek ended and the chips and dip were gone. So was the wine. I leaned my head back against the couch cushions and closed my eyes. I had time for a short snooze before dark.
I shot awake at the loud tapping against my front window and rubbed my sore eyes. Too much wine. Or maybe not enough wine. I was done being afraid, though. The woman from Massachusetts had been right. I was a big girl now, and like a woman with big girl panties, I threw the front window open, allowing the harsh wind and everything it carried into my home.
Maybe I was drunk, or just that fucking tired, but I turned my back on the open window, settled myself on the couch under my blanket, and waited.
Claws scrabbled at the sill and the red eyes looked surprised for a moment. I laughed. “You’ve been wanting in for twenty years. Come on in and close the window behind you.”
The eyes disappeared and I jumped when the window closed with a harsh crack. I shook my head and laughed, the sound of my dry mirth ringing through the room. Fuck, if I had known this when I was a kid, my life would have been so much easier. I might have been tempted into one of those princess costumes.
Apparently, monsters in the dark didn’t like women who weren’t afraid. I tipped the bottle to my lips, sucking down the last few drops of wine. “Thanks for fucking up my childhood, asshole.”
There was no response from the creature with the red eyes. Nothing, not a peep. It was disconcerting. I huffed out a sigh, wondering why I’d been afraid of a monster so lame it wouldn’t take an open invitation. I tossed the remains of my gourmet meal into the trash and went to bed, ignoring the sensation that I wasn’t entirely alone.
I brushed my teeth and washed up for bed, staring at myself in the mirror. Haunted blue eyes met my stare. I looked terrible. Blonde wisps of hair escaped my hair tie and I didn’t think there was enough concealer in Maine to hide the dark circles under my eyes. A shadow appeared behind me in the mirror and I spun around but found nothing.
“Shit.” My belly was filled with nerves and the wine and chips weren’t sitting well. I ignored my sudden nausea and crawled between soft cotton sheets, pulling them over my head. I didn’t think I would sleep but my eyes were so heavy I couldn’t keep them open. All I could see was a faceless man with red eyes.
November 1, 2016
The alarm on my phone chirped and I woke with a start, surprised at being allowed a full night’s sleep without monsters demanding entry. I showered and got ready for work with a half grin on my face. I slapped on a coat of mascara, delighted that the dark circles under my eyes were gone. Monsters were clearly pussies. I strode into the kitchen and started the Keurig before rummaging in the fridge for a yogurt.
I ate the almost expired strawberry yogurt standing at my kitchen counter as I sipped at my coffee and planned my day. I needed to stop by Mrs. Dowling’s house for her updated will and by Lucy’s home for the trust document. I hoped to see Maddox while I was there. I adored him. He was nonverbal but managed to communicate with surprising ability. I thought he was one of the smartest people I knew.
It was still bitterly cold but my old Jag started without too much fuss. The thermometer on the outside wall of my garage read a temperature inconsistent with sustaining life, even for Maine, but at least we hadn’t gotten any ice or snow.
Mrs. Dowling gave me a bran muffin while I waited for her to sign her updated will. I took a bite to be polite, but Elmira was a notoriously bad cook. Once I was in my car and out of sight of the old lady’s house, I tossed it into the plastic trash bag in the back seat.
Maddox met me at Lucy’s front door when I knocked. He gazed at me, eyes hooded and sad, and said, “The Archangel is coming for you, Ms. Howard. I’ll miss you.” He kissed my cheek then turned away and went into the living room to watch cartoons.
I stared at him in shock. In thirty years, Maddox hadn’t said a word. Not one fucking word, yet he spoke now. “Maddox, wait!” He ignored me and began to rock himself as he focused on the television and I knew he wouldn’t say anything else. Who was the archangel? His words made no sense but I shivered.
“Is everything okay?” Lucy gave me a bright, cheerful smile. She hadn’t heard Maddox speak.
“Of course.” I tore my eyes away from Maddox. “I just stopped by for your trust document.” Lucy handed the envelope to me and I made my escape. My hands shook as I fumbled my key into the ignition and I nearly dropped my keyring before managing to get the old girl started.
I drove through town, barely registering my surroundings. This year was certainly the strangest Halloween I’d seen, and for me, that was saying something. As I drove toward my office, I saw blue lights flashing in front of the town’s only tavern, a few doors down from my building. Police tape and the town’s two cruisers blocked my way and I turned to go around the roadblock, wondering what was happening.
I kept my eyes firmly forward. I was the only lawyer in town and wasn’t about to compromise my credibility. Whatever happened would be in the local newspaper soon enough. I drove around until I found a spot a block away from my office and trudged back, but more yellow tape blocked my way. My breath left me in a cloud of vaporous irritation and I wondered if I should brave the diner.
The diner had coffee. Deciding a cup of the thick, black brew would help my rattled brain, I opened the door. The bell jangled and I felt like a bug under a microscope when everyone turned to look at me. I ignored the random thought and took a seat at the counter, turning over the white china cup to let the waitress fill it.
“Didja hear what happened to Lance?” she whispered. Her voice was a mixture of malevolence and curiosity.
“Should I have?” I kept my expression placid but it didn’t surprise me that Lance would be involved in something to do with the police tape and lights.
“Yeah, Candy, old man Reynolds found him nailed to the wall next door to your office.”
