The Candyman- Part 8 (END)

The last of the smoke trailed from Ezekial’s pursed lips as he finished his tale, and for a long time I remained motionless, unsure whether the dark recounting of Job’s experiences was truly over. But this was decided for me when the old man suddenly stood, tapped out his pipe, and strode over to the edge of the woods, listening intently.

“Um, Ezekial, is everything-”

He held a hand up, then nodded and gestured for me to follow before fading into the now inky blackness of the trees.

“Shit,” I said, beginning to get more than a little annoyed at my new friend’s cryptic behavior, “He could at least answer my question...”

Still, I couldn’t help but follow; something bothered me about the way he ended the story there. Nothing added up...the pile of bodies twenty feet away were a testament to that.

But when I entered the woods, I began to understand why he ended the tale where he did.

The trees, they clawed at my pants desperately, and the silence...it wasn’t so much a lack of sound but a blanket, a diseased blanket that muffled any signs of life. The darkness closed in, and for those few moments before I caught up, beyond the sound of my ragged breathing, I swear I heard the scraping sound of limping feet behind me.

Then the camp came into view, and all was silent once again.

I found Ezekial nursing a sickly fire back to health in a shallow, hastily-dug fire pit and watched for a bit as he blew on the glowing punk and bits of dead moss, then decided to make myself useful and gathered a couple of the sticks piled under a dirty tarp nearby. As I brought them back, I managed to get a better look at our lodgings.

The badly-made fire pit sat smack dab in the center where Ezekial perched. Behind him lay a shoddy tent, holes badly patched with ratty cloth and leaves. It lay against a boulder, most likely to shield whatever unfortunate occupant lay within from some of the rain that often blew in on its way to Salem.

“So,” I remarked, sitting across from Ezekial, “did you find a note attached to the tent? Job may want that back, you know.”
I didn’t really say the phrase with any levity, but the old man let out a sour chuckle nonetheless.

“If you’re worried, don’t be. We’re safe here. It’s no-man’s-land.”

I opened my mouth to ask but, as it happened too often with him, it didn’t take long to realize what he meant. I still don’t understand why the old man didn’t react to it; surely his hearing was well above mine from being alone in the wilderness for so long.

A long, quiet wail came from the bushes behind me.

I didn’t speak, couldn’t speak- but this wasn’t what made my blood run cold. No, what followed was far, far worse.
As I sat there, ramrod straight, my blood slush in my veins, it- it SPOKE to me.

“Clark,” it said in its quiet, sweet voice, “Your bed’s getting cold.”

I felt it there.

I felt it, sitting in the brush behind me, I felt it strain, felt its NEED.

But when I looked, the only thing I caught was a shadow of a shadow, so thin and fleeting I was sure it was my imagination- and the slight, unmistakeable sound of a scraping limp.

When I turned back around, that man, he was SMILING.

And then all was silent save for the crackling of the fire.

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That marks the end of Segment 1- Arrival. This was written around a year or so ago, originally typewritten, and is very rough. Steemit is the first platform I've published this story on, and I have to say, it has had a surprisingly warm reception thus far. Not many eyes on it yet, but those few eyes that have seen it seem to appreciate it, if The Candyman Part 4's numbers are any indication.

I want to thank all of those who have stuck with it till the end. I know there was a lot of buildup, and more quiet, suspenseful horror than what some of you might have hoped for, but I have plans for this series that I think will more than make up for it. It is a serial novel, after all- there are two more parts left. The second will hesitantly be called "Descent", and will be in the perspective of Ezekial. Lenny's odd condition hinted at in this first part will be expanded upon, and Job's downward spiral will be more realized.

The third I have vague plans for, and another hesitant title: "Aftermath". This one will wrap the trilogy of stories together and will be in a journal format, in Job's perspective. Story arcs will be resolved, characters will die, and an ending will be reached.

Some mysteries, of course, will remain as such.

Thanks for tuning in, and I hope you'll stick around for tomorrow, where I upload part 1 of the sci-fi story I hinted at in my last blog.

Have a great after-Christmas slog, and I'll see you just around the bend!

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | END