Episode Number Two

            My husband grabbed the flower arrangement from the backseat. We were visiting my mother for Mother’s Day. Something we’d both been looking forward to all week long.

My mother’s house has some minor issues. Of course, some people may not consider those issues to be so minor. It really depends on how you feel about genuine haunted houses.

Chad and I are more open to paranormal experiences than most people. We’d had a frightening experience of our own involving four giant dark angels. They’d emerged from one of our spare bedrooms, and they’d chased us through our neighborhood. They’d used us to lead them to someone with an evil soul. That man had died mysteriously of a shotgun wound. His death had been ruled a suicide. His wife and daughter now live happily ever after down the street from us.

“Oh, wow. I wasn’t expecting flowers,” my mother said as she ushered us past her. “You guys have exceptional timing. The activity is off the wall. I was just thinking about going to a hotel for the night. There’s supposed to be a full moon tonight.”

I guess most people think a full moon is kind of spooky. My mother had learned that spirits can draw energy from it. She’d spent the last three full moons at a local hotel.

“We can stay if you want,” Chad offered. “I guess it all depends on if we see anything while we’re here.”

Chad glanced at me to see if I felt the same way. I gave a nod.

“Did something happen?” I asked my mother. She was practically dancing in place with anxiety. Her gaze continuously moved to the kitchen. From her living room, we could see straight through to the foyer, the dining room, and then the kitchen.

“I saw a green man. He growled at me. I’ve never seen him before, and he didn’t seem too thrilled to see me,” she claimed in a whisper.

“He’s a ghost, Ma. He can probably hear you if you whisper. He may be standing with us, for all we know. Besides, it’s your house. Say what you want to say. Screw him.”

“You always say that, Sharon, but it’s different when you’re here all alone.”

“Sorry, Ma, you’re right. I’ve been in the same position.” I gave her a reassuring hug, and then led her to her favorite chair. “Why don’t you just move out of this house?”

“I forgot to tell you? Oh, I probably did. My mind is a sieve these days. Lucy and I went to see a palm reader.” I interrupted her with a roll of my eyes. Lucy was my mother’s best friend. Together they were trouble. They were constantly digging up new hobbies to try. “Don’t roll your eyes at me. I’m your mother.”

“Sorry, Ma.”

“So what did the palm reader say?” Chad asked, setting the flower arrangement on an end table.

“Well, she knows a thing or two about ghosts. She says that people who can see them, even just a little, are like flashlights in the blackest forest. The ghosts will go straight for that light every time – partly out of curiosity, and partly from the desire to communicate with the living.”

“So, you’re saying they would follow you if you move?” Chad asked. His handsome face was lit with bewilderment. He pushed his dark hair out of his eyes and then sat back on my mother’s couch.

“I’ve heard that, too,” I commented. “So what did she say you should do?”

“She said I should see what they want.” My mother threw up her hands with exasperation, as if she was back at square one.

Just then, we heard a growl. It was a low, eerie sound that made the hairs on my arms come to attention. My mother was frozen and bug-eyed. Chad was looking around for the source of the sound. It came again. I pictured a wolf in the woods, standing defensively over its kill.

“I told you,” my mother whispered furtively behind her hand.

Chad stood and moved to the doorway so he could see through to the kitchen. I mimicked his moves. I had to see this green fella for myself.

There he was, standing in the kitchen, eyes ablaze like burning emeralds. He was wearing a duster jacket, slacks, and a button-up shirt under the jacket. He was entirely florescent-green – brighter than the Hulk. His wide-brimmed hat matched, and it had florescent-green ferns growing out of it.

“Crap,” I said through gritted teeth. “What do we do?”

“Ask it what it wants. Remember?” My mother was pressed against my back suddenly, breathing down my neck. Her breaths were erratic. I hoped she wasn’t going to faint.

“What do you want?” Chad called out to the green man.

The green ghost took two steps and then rushed us. He screamed, “This house!”

It was too late to duck. The green man’s mouth was an enormous O when he passed through us. His eyes had been giant, florescent-green rings of fire.

I patted my way down my body to make sure that everything was still unharmed and where it should be. Chad was doing the same.

My mother was coiled on the floor with her hands over her head. She peeked up at me. “Is it gone?”

I answered rather quickly, to the beat of my racing heart, “Yeah, Ma, it’s gone.”

“Well, he’s a mean one, isn’t he?” she remarked, rising and brushing off her polyester pants.

An odd sound on the other side of the room made us turn as though we were one. It sounded like sand sifting through an hourglass, only much louder. White beach sand was pooling on the tan carpet. It seemed to be coming out of nowhere; poured by an invisible beach pail and an unseen hand.

“My carpet!” my mother hissed angrily.

She now had a two-foot stalagmite of sand pointing at her ceiling.

The conical pile of sand suddenly caved in and trailed away from its base. It wormed its way across her carpet, coming straight for our feet. I dropped to my knees and cupped my hands over the end of the tail. I felt it shift and move beneath my palms. The sand slithered out from under my hands and snaked away from me.

Chad dropped to his knees and tried to capture the head of the trail. It somehow managed to evade capture again.

We crawled around on my mother’s carpet this way for another five minutes, trying to figure out how sand can slink and slither. My mother stood at the edge of the room with her hand cupped over her mouth in awe.

Finally, Chad caught something in the sand. He held up a long string that wiggled and squirmed between his pinched fingers. It was a long vein-like worm. Something we’d never seen before. Something I was sure no one had ever seen before.

Chad held it out to me and told me, “Grab the other end, Sharon.”

I did, and we each stretched out our end. The worm-like string only took so much tension, and then it snapped like a rubber band.

“The sand,” my mother stated incredulously, pointing to the floor.

The tunnels of sand were sifting through the carpet, slowly disappearing. I glanced at my hand. My piece of the mystifying worm was gone. Chad was looking at his empty hand and shaking his head with disbelief.

“I’m going to wash my hands,” I said on my way out of the room.

I went into the bathroom and shut the door. My heart was finally starting to calm. We’d seen stuff at my mother’s house before, but nothing like the things that were going on today. I doused my hands under the water and scrubbed with some soap.

            I turned to dry my hands and froze. There was a naked little girl sitting on the edge of the tub. She looked to be about five years old. Her face was angelic, but her eyes were glowing florescent-green. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was cut with a sharp line of bangs that ended just above her eerie eyes. Her skin was pale like a full moon, and when she smiled, she showed fangs. She licked at them, and then she hid them behind an innocent smile. She was a paradox in the flesh.

            “Show me your tits,” she growled deeply. It was the green man’s voice. “Show them to me, and I’ll leave your mom alone.” Her grin was ridiculously wide.

            With a shaky hand, I pulled up my shirt. I flipped up my bra and flashed her. Her little hand dove between her legs, and her fingers played at the button there. When she moaned, it was the green man’s harsh tone.

            “Gross,” I commented, covering myself.

            “I want some,” a soft, melodic voice stated suddenly.

            It was a boy of about the same age as the girl, only he was clothed. His skin was just as pale, and his smile showcased fangs, too. He was dressed in gray knickers, suspenders, a shirt, black socks, and black dress shoes.

I followed the line of his white, short-sleeve shirt where it ended at his elbows. Below that line, his veins glowed red beneath his skin. Below the knees, the veins in his legs were streams of a blazing sunrise. He was obviously the spirit that had manifested as the sandworm.

             The little girl gasped with pleasure. Her hand flew away from her bald mound and landed on worm-boy’s arm.

“They’re lovely,” she crooned in that deep man voice. “Do show him.”

“You said you’d leave my mother alone,” I said, ignoring her request. “Do I have your word?”

“How do you know my word is good?” she asked coyly.

She placed her head on worm-boy’s shoulder and fluttered her eyelashes. The picture of innocence. The boy beside her – a perfectly behaved lad with his red-veined hands cupped in his small lap.

“Are you saying that you still intend to bother my mother?”

            She laughed. The sound reverberated around the bathroom, finally pushing the door open like a sonic boom.

            “You’ll regret going back on your word,” I informed her hotly. My hands were on my hips when I strode out of the bathroom.

            Chad and my mother were talking softly when I entered the living room.

            “The green man can turn into a lying little girl. The worm is a little boy. They’re both hanging around in the bathroom,” I told them. “I say we have a priest bless this place. Get their asses kicked out of here for good.”

            “She showed me her tits,” the little girl singsonged, suddenly sitting beside Chad on the couch.

            Chad flew off the couch, and so did my mother. The little girl laughed heartily and flashed her fangs.

            Bang, bang, bang.

            “What the heck was that?” my mother asked, moving towards the foyer. “Is someone out there?” She was on her tiptoes, peering through the peephole.

            “Is someone out there?” a male voice mimicked from the other side of the door. Then we heard laughter. Raucous sounds that reverberated even louder than the little girl’s laughter had in the bathroom. These laughs were deadly bullets bouncing off the walls. I felt myself duck involuntarily.

            My mother backed away from the door fearfully. She backed all the way to the couch and sat, not caring that the naked, little girl grinned lasciviously beside her.

            The door banged open, smashing into the padded stopper.

            I smiled. I knew exactly who was at the door and why.

            Sure enough, a ghastly, glowing figure floated into the foyer and then the living room. His shoulder-length dark hair was as disheveled as the first time I’d seen him. His angular face had menacing black eyes, and the shock of dark hair that cascaded down his forehead pointed to his frown. He was seven feet tall. His presence took over the room.

            “Dark angels!” he bellowed madly. He seemed crazed with power.

            The little vixen floated off the couch and transformed into the green man. He glowed brighter than before, almost as if he was a dog raising its hackles.

            The little worm-boy came to see what was going on. He floated to a stop in the doorway. “This is our house,” he claimed, jutting out his pubescent chest. “We haunt here. Find your own afterlife playground.”

            Bang, bang…bang, bang, bang.

            It was another dark angel. He was swinging a sledgehammer that was twice the size of a jackhammer. All eight feet of him hovered in the threshold until his leader slid over to make room. The leader was beside me now. Chad stepped over to me with a protective look about him. Though we thought the appearance of the dark angels might be a good thing, we couldn’t be entirely sure.

            Bang, bang…bang, bang…bang, bang.

            The third dark angel’s sledgehammer took the door off its hinges. He glowered at everyone in the room as he floated to a stop. His eerily glowing body was huge – it filled the entire vertical space he occupied, floor to ceiling. He was ten feet of evil, with strikingly dark sideburns to frame his sneer.

            The green man danced side to side nervously. The worm-boy floated over to him. His glowing red veins were blinking a warning, slowly changing to a blood-red shade. Apparently his bristles were up, too.

            The leader of the dark angels eyed the two obnoxious ghosts. Then he cocked his head to the side as though he was listening to something we couldn’t hear. His grin was cruel when it sliced across his face. His dark eyes pinned the two apparitions to their spot.

            Bang, bang, bang, bang….bang, bang.

            The largest dark angel couldn’t fit into the living room. He stayed in the foyer. We could only see him from the waist up because he was so enormous. The rest of him was below floor level. When he set his sledgehammer down, it rocked the entire house.

            “Dark angels,” the leader hissed at the two apparitions. Then he glared at me. “You called us for these two?”

            “I called you?” I wondered aloud.

I thought back to how angry I’d been when the little girl had gone back on her word in the bathroom. Had I somehow summoned the dark angels without knowing it?

The green man growled. In a blink, he was the little girl. “Please don’t hurt us, mister! We’re just little kids. We would never hurt anyone.”

My mother sucked in a breath. “Liar,” she accused. “You’ve been hanging around here for weeks, trying your best to scare me out of my own home.”

The little girl transformed back into the green man. His deep laugh gave me chills.

All of a sudden, the green man rushed towards the foyer. He was a florescent-green blur, attempting escape.

Unfortunately, the largest dark angel was ready and waiting. He smashed his sledgehammer once against the hardwood floor. Then his mouth opened impossibly wide. His mouth was the doorway. The green man flew right into it, and then the dark angel quickly snapped his jaw shut. We heard a loud gulp, and then the dark angel opened his mouth. Burrup!

“Gross!” I remarked, holding a hand over my mouth. “Is he dead?”

“Dark angel full,” the largest dark angel said with a ghost-eating grin. Then he opened his trench coat to show his belly. A thick trail of hair blossomed out of his trousers and crawled upward toward his gargantuan chest. It was shrinking and expanding rhythmically, as though he’d swallowed a belly dancer and she was in there still trying to perform. The ghastly giant belched again. With it, came the sound of the green man’s belligerent roar.

“Sounds as though he craves company,” the ten-foot dark angel hissed indignantly. He pressed his back against the tallest dark angel’s chest. Suddenly he was gone. Absorbed into the giant behind him. Now the belching giant’s stomach was gyrating wildly. I assumed there was a war being waged within him.

The moment ended when the giant closed his trench coat.

All heads turned toward the worm-boy. He thrust out his palms and claimed, “I didn’t do anything. Why look at me? I didn’t make anyone show me their tits. I’ve been a perfect gentleman.”

“You peed sand all over my carpet,” my mother accused, jutting her finger at him. “You peep at me when I’m in the shower, and you take things that don’t belong to you.”

He countered, abashed, “I only hide them on you. I don’t keep them!”

The leader of the dark angels stepped quickly and reached for worm-boy.

The boy turned to sand in the leader’s hands. The white particles sifted out of the dark angel’s fists and onto the carpet. Just as before, a sand trail wormed across the carpet. Though, clearly it was intent on a getaway this time.

The eight-foot dark angel stomped forward and bashed the trail of sand with his sledgehammer. But the trail kept changing directions, evading the whirling sledgehammer and leaving rows of sand behind, just as it had evaded capture from us earlier.

The leader of the dark angels bellowed and launched himself at the head of the sand trail. He pummeled it with his giant fists, flattening the row of white like a pancake.

The dark angels laughed, egging on their leader.

The largest dark angel belched again, and the dark angel he’d absorbed reappeared. There was no indication that the green man had survived the battle. Now all three dark angels looked on as their leader flattened the trail of sand.

The sand suddenly sifted through the floor and disappeared.

In the next second, the little boy dropped through the ceiling and landed with a thump on the carpet. He coughed and sputtered. He was on his belly, exhausted. The leader of the dark angel’s pinned the boy with a foot to the back of the neck.

“We want him out of here,” I said, glancing at my mother to be sure. She nodded determinedly.

The dark angels’ leader bent down and grabbed worm-boy by the suspenders. The veins in his arms and legs flashed different shades of red as he was lifted. Chad and I backed toward my mother. We stood in a semi-circle waiting to see what would happen to worm-boy.

The eight-foot dark angel nodded as though someone had given him an order. Then he swung his sledgehammer to the side and held it as if it were a baseball bat. He gave another nod, and then the dark angels’ leader sprung worm-boy at his fellow dark angel by the suspenders, like he’d just launched a missile from a slingshot.

The eight-footer swung faster than our eyes could see, but we heard a crack. Worm-boy screamed as he flew past us and through the wall.

The dark angels were laughing as they merged. The eight-footer stepped against the next tallest apparition and disappeared. Then that dark angel gave my mother a wink and stepped back into the biggest dark angel.

There was an expression of disgust on the largest dark angel’s face as his eyes scanned us one more time. I wasn’t sure why he looked that way until he asked, “You summon us like dogs? How?” Then he was gone.

The leader floated over to me. Chad shifted at my side. The leader opened his jacket to show the faces of his dark cronies, nestled in a trail from groin to chest. They were glaring at me.

“No one has summoned us before,” the leader claimed. “The last time we met, we used you. You led us to our desired target. This time was different.” He looked me up and down intently, as though he was trying to figure out what made me different from everyone else. “Don’t you fear us?” he hissed.

“Yes,” I responded truthfully. “But I saw you do justice last time. I was hoping it was the same this time, and it was. Thank you. My mother is free from them now.”

“Your mother will only attract more like them,” he said through gritted teeth. “As will you and your…partner.”

“Why do you say that with so much disdain?” I asked, confused by his dislike of Chad.

“WE DON’T LIKE HIM!” he bellowed. His voice echoed through the room, shaking the whole house.

“Why not?” Chad asked, seemingly offended.

“We have no need to explain ourselves to you. Now,” he said, eyeing me angrily, “how were you able to call us? You don’t know our names. Did you think of us?”

“You have names?”

“Did you think of us?” he reiterated angrily. His face was a mask of evil.

“Yes, I think maybe I did,” I admitted.

He growled at me. “We have no ruler.”

“Of course not,” I agreed.

“We come when we feel the need to come.”

“Of course,” I said with a nod. “But what happens if I call you by mistake? I didn’t even know I did it this time.”

He seemed to give my question some thought. His hand stroked his chin. “We will come if you have trouble. We are not yours to command, but we will come if you call us by our names.”

“Dark angels?” I guessed.

“We will tell you our names,” he announced with a shrug. “Your partner must leave the room. Your mother may remain.” His cronies laughed above his belt.

Chad left the room with a nod.

One by one, they said their names – from largest to smallest.

“Savage”

“Wicked.”

“Heckler.”

Then the leader revealed his name. “Rogue.”

His black eyes bore into me. So did those of the miniature faces along his abdomen. “We like you,” he admitted. “We even like your mother. We’ll see you both again, but when we choose. We will decide who goes and who stays. Is that clear?”

“Absolutely,” I told him, glancing to my mother to make sure she at least gave him a nod. She did. She seemed mesmerized by his voice.

When I looked back, he was gone. The dark angels’ laughter lingered a minute longer. And then it was over. My mother’s house was spirit-free…for the time being.

The End

Copyright 2009 – Sheila Roy