While working on my comic (writing and rewriting, working on pitch and bible), I thought to myself, "this will take forever with my current schedule, would it be best to upload short stories and adapt as I go?" My conclusion was yes, so I will be uploading short stories and flash fiction here and to my art along with cover art and maybe scenes. Also, Italics = thoughts.
Rain pours down like an open faucet, blanketing the ground. Lightning rips through the darkness briefly illuminating the outside of Dream Video Rental.
What nice weather to be home right now. Phaedra kneels behind the concession counter of the video store restocking various theater candies and snacks. She had tied her burgundy hair into a haphazard bun.
“I miss the Spend-Mart,” Phaedra said.
She comes up from under the counter, standing straight up — it barely reaching past her stomach. Hel sat on the countertop, kicking his stuffed fuzzy midnight blue legs nonchalantly.
“It was definitely better. This new manager’s an asshole,” Hel said.
Slumping her shoulders, Phaedra stares blankly ahead. Down the path between eight diagonally angled rows of long shelves collectivity sit in the middle of the main floor. All the surrounding walls, from the opposite end of her counter to the parallel wall by the exit, displaying movies and video games of various titles organized alphabetically by both medium and genre.
“We’re lucky Moni didn’t care to press charges,” Phaedra said.
Her scornful gaze softened with reverence glancing at Hel. His midnight blue faux fur was complemented by an indigo t- shirt. A fixed all-consuming smile sitting under his tiny, stitched nose perching up a pair of circular glasses that looked rather large to be sitting on a stuffed plush’s face. Hel stood up barely taller than the clunky electronic register.
“How did you deal with this for so long?” Phaedra asked.
“I had the curse for over twenty years Phae, and a lot of help.” Hel replied, nudging her shoulder.
“Before I had you, I made it work. And now you still got me,” Hel said.
“But only one of us can work. How can we make ends meet if I can’t hold a job because of this curse.” Phaedra said.
“You say that like I’m still dead,” Hel replies.
Shifting her focus from Hel to the glass counter, the brightly colored cellophane wrapping catches her focus.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be lamenting… I got you back, I don’t regret that,” Phaedra said.
Hel steps towards her, stopping near the edge of the counter on the vinyl trim. She could sense his single button-eye peering at her.
“I don’t regret it either… trust me. Nothing wrong with venting Phae. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll face it all together, right?” Hel said.
Phaedra cracks a small hopeful smile.
“Of course,” Phaedra said.
He motions for her to follow him as he walks along the countertop.
“On a brighter note, we have an entire video store to ourselves for the next 8 hours... Whatever could we do?” Hel said.
Turning the corner that exits the counter Phaedra glances at her wristwatch, 12:37am. She stands on the opposite side of the counter cheekily grinning at Hel, chuckling at the implied idea.
“Well, as long as we rewind the tapes,” Phaedra replied.
Phaedra places a stack of tapes on the countertop and walks around to the other side, while Hel shimmies up onto the counter. 12:55am, kneeling into the cabinet under the register, Phaedra pulls out a completely spherical television/VCR combo, an engraving labeled the plastic case above the VCR, Telesphere. The controls and VCR housing simultaneously working as a base gave it the appearance of a retro-futuristic scrying orb. Placing it on the counter next to the register, Hel thoroughly sifted through the stack of tapes.
“What do you want to start with? Monday The 16th, Honey, I Turned The Kids Into Werewolves, Buzzsaw Man – The Movie?” Hel asked.
Picking up a tape by Hel’s foot, The Day Before Yesterday Is Tomorrow.
“Let’s go from worst to best,” Phaedra replied.
Rewinding the tape to the beginning Hel ejects the disaster movie. 2:59am, Phaedra reclining herself with two foldable chairs.
“That was disappointing,” Phaedra said.
“Not a very good disaster movie. Want to watch a thriller?” Hel replied.
A loud creak followed by a hollow clunk disrupts the serenity of the rain vigorously riddling the roof to the mostly quiet store. Their heads swivel quickly right, towards the video drop-off box between the counter and entrance that connects to the outside, 3:01am.
“A drop-off at this hour?” Phaedra said.
Hel walks along the counter tiptoeing over the register following the L-shape corner to the wall. Jumping through the propped open hatch, he makes a soft thud. He tosses a tape onto the counter and making his way back. Phaedra sits up from her reclined position picking up the tape. Card stock peeling back in non-essential areas on the box. Rickman’s Simulacrum.
The generic looking box art has the lead actors prominently featured in the middle with intense expressions. The male actor’s face had sharp well-defined, symmetrical features. The female lead’s face was distinct and expressive with soft rounded features.
Three secondary characters were arranged beneath them with similar expressions. A slightly older looking gentleman, his face shape somewhat rectangular, and his forehead broad tapering down to a slightly narrow jawline. A middle-aged woman characterized by a combination of well-defined features and graceful maturity. Then a younger man, with a round and full face.
Overshadowing them all, a sinister-looking figure with sunken eyes and an impossibly wide smile. Flipping it around, the back totally bleached, only a section of a barcode on the bottom right corner visible. Never heard of it.
Sliding the tape out of the box, the plastic looking even worse, incredibly worn or cracked in places. Examining the spools behind the clear plastic. Phaedra makes a disgruntled face.
“Had the time to drop it off at three in the morning, but not rewind it? Ass,” Phaedra said.
Handing the box to Hel she inserts the tape into the VCR, it makes a soft clunk as the tape locks into place. After a sequence of clicks and whirs the tape starts playback. The splash screen flickered to, Mr. J Studios.
“What? It looked like it wasn’t rewound,” Phaedra said.
“The spools are probably misaligned. It happens with older tapes,” Hel said, sitting on the edge of the counter meticulously examining the box.
The film opens with the male actor sitting on a park bench alone, brooding. The man briefly side-eying the camera as if to check that it is filming. She reclines into the folding chair propping up her feet. Placing the box on the counter, Hel leaps onto the chair her legs are positioned taking a seat on her upper thigh. 3:08am.
The older man, Walter, and the lead, Toby, stand over the body of the young man from the cover. The skin on his face was completely removed — messy, uneven edges of torn tissue along the cut-out section.
“It seems no matter what we do Toby, Rickman always claims his victim,” Walter said, his eyes wandered around the park, then across the camera’s view.
In a parking garage, Toby and the female lead, Ada push away from embracing.
“I can’t live in this city anymore Toby, not knowing who Rickman’s next victim will be. Please run away with me,” Ada said.
“He killed my mother, Ada; I need to stop him,” Toby replied.
“Do you have any clue who his next victim could be?” Ada asked, as the camera angle shifted from over Toby’s shoulder on Ada her eyes pass over the camera.
“I think he wants me to go where it all started,” Toby replied.
“All of these actors seem… off,” Hel said, scratching the area below his grin and sitting up.
“The pacing is all over the place too, and the main guy kind of creeps me out,” Phaedra replied.
Sitting up, Phaedra leans forward and presses the rewind button on the VCR.
“That’s enough of you,” Phaedra said. Nothing happens.
She presses it again with the same result. Phaedra froze in place a sinking feeling pooled in her stomach, and a violet unnerving tingle ran through her spine. Toby was looking over his shoulder smiling at the camera while Ada was hysterically crying. The screen turns to a blinding white emitting a piercing hum. The telesphere’s plastic rapidly and aggressively pounds the countertop inching itself off the other side of the counter.
The store is suddenly enshrouded in darkness accompanied by a dying hum. The air around Phaedra crushed her lungs and prevented her from moving. Preservatory senses ring through her body as goosebumps start to form. The two sit stiff in the umbra as though trying to remain undetected.
“Where’s the power box?” Hel asked.
“On the wall next to the lockers in the employee—” Phaedra interrupted herself, clasping her hands over her mouth. A large outline, not human, skitters across the floor disappearing further into the enveloped store.
“We don’t have a lot of time. I’ll be your eyes,” Hel said, carefully climbing onto Phaedra’s shoulder gripping her collar.
Her limited vision narrows, her chest tightens, and a cold spike jolts from her brain to her feet. Phaedra slides across the countertop sprinting further into the void. Ugly, jagged metal gasping encroaches her ears the deeper she goes.
“Strafe left!” Hel said.
Phaedra steps to the side not breaking her stride. Searing pain shoots through her thigh. Stumbling, she bumps into what feels like a cleaning cart. She swiftly feels around the cart and knocks it over.
“Door!” Hel said.
Running face first into the open pull door, Phaedra grabs the handle swinging herself backwards into more blackness, locking the door behind her. The sudden silence deafening.
Something on the other side tore through it like fabric — violet banging and scraping assaults the door. An intense cacophony of shrieks traveling through the murk into Phaedra’s being. Her mind overloaded with thoughts. Her senses flailed. Her body trembled. It won’t hold. Five, no, six, voices shouting at once with high pitched strained wails. As quickly as it disappeared, the light returned. Restoring her vision and what also felt like her sanity.
Hel stands precariously along the edge of the power box door.
“Are you okay?” Hel asked, despite the fixed state of his face his concern could be felt.
Phaedra takes a deep breath.
“Yeah… it only nicked me. What are we going to do?” Phaedra replied.
“I’ve seen something similar. Trying to rewind the tape again and destroying it might work,” Hel said, pacing between Phaedra and an invisible line.
Phaedra rubs her thigh, dull discomfort where pressure is applied.
“You trust me?” Hel said.
“Of course. Baseball bat,” Phaedra replied.
Hel’s form shifts from a plush into a furry midnight blue baseball bat with an indigo grip. Pressing on the handle, Phaedra kicked the door wide open, slamming into whatever let out a roar of pain from the other side. Bolting from the lounge vaulting over the toppled cart and through the main floor she glances back.
To call it a figure would be too flattering. An abomination with unnaturally long spindly appendages and contorted articulate digits grip the edges of the corridor’s threshold. The faces of the actors from the tape grafted onto its disgustingly disproportionate body, surrounding Toby’s like fleshy porcelain masks. The shriveled unison attempting to speak sounded like nails on the chalkboard.
“My star. What is your name. Tell me. What is it my star. Name, give,” The thing with Toby’s face said.
Almost to the counter, the being propels itself forward from the threshold, Phaedra now within its reach. She plants her pivot foot, grits her teeth solidifying her stance and with all her might swings at the horror. Despite his fuzzy appearance, Hel hits like a metal slugger. The ping from contact resonates through the store. Snapping of wood and plastic as the abomination crashes into the romance section.
Picking up the telesphere and turning it on, the sharp high-pitched whine stays in the air for eons. Rickman facing her, Toby’s face partially shattered, like porcelain flesh. Behind the mask ruined by the cracks, a pair of eyes and teeth sit in a void. That overwhelming feeling returned, the lights felt too bright; the sounds of Rickman's steps shook the floor like earthquakes, the faces gasping accompanied by thunder outside brought tears to her eyes.
“It’s getting closer!” Hel said.
Snapping her from her trance Phaedra jams the rewind button. Rickman was sucked into the sphere with no resistance — as if something far greater was pulling him in. Without hesitation Phaedra rips the telesphere from the counter smashing it into the ground. Using Hel to demolish it to pieces, only unspooled film and pieces of the curved monitor recognizable.
“Hel,” Phaedra said.
Hel transforms back into his bipedal plush form. Looking around at the obliterated telesphere and mangled shelves. Grimace spread across her perspiring face.
“I’m fired,” Phaedra said.
“But not dead!” Hel rebuts, placing his nubs on what would be his hips.
The sun beamed radiantly on the bus stop, wet concrete and humidity scent the air. 8:23am.
“Fired after two shifts must be a record somewhere,” Phaedra said.
Hel looks up at her hanging from a backstrap at her side.
“This bouncing from job to job stuff is a bummer, but we’ll keep making it work,” Hel replied.
“Of course,“ Phaedra replied, her hopeful smile returning.
Screeching pressurized brakes cut through the morning’s chatter.
