It’s Halloween time so I am going to terrify you with the first of my “Terrifying Tales of Terror”! Why not?
Chamber 1: Poor Dead Steve’s Hand
Janet was trapped in the kitchen, as the twisted severed hand scrabbled and clawed towards her across her fabulous faux Linoleum floor.
As the gnarled and clawed fingers struggled to find purchase on the smooth surface in order to reach her, Janet couldn’t help but flash a bit of an annoyance toward dead her poor dead Steve for questioning her taste in wanting ruby, purple, and gold flakes and brave, bold swirls on a subtle mauve background. That bastard had wanted “regular linoleum” as if some backwater linoleum pattern designer could hope to match her sense of style!
Poor dead Steve’s severed hand had now adopted a flip-flopping motion in a vain attempt to gain some momentum across the recently waxed expanse… splattering blood with each flop. Just Great! Now the splatter has gotten on the previously unstained hardwood cabinets (not her choice, she had wanted that classy tattooed leather cover) and all the way up to her beloved “Rooster Buddies” tea-towel. It’s not like those go on sale everyday down at the Roosters N’ Such at the mall.
Shaking off her fury and terror, Janet realized that there was no way out of the kitchen that didn’t involve getting close to the surprisingly spry disembodied hand. Janet was starting to feel a tinge of regret for butchering poor, not dead yet, Steve, burying him in the garden then having that ritualistic orgy involving a witch-doctor, a witch-nurse, a warlock, two Druids, a Baptist, and a curious schoolmarm on top of his freshly buried corpse.
Sure, like most things that start on Facebook, it seemed like a good idea at the time, but in retrospect… I mean, just look at this kitchen now! Even in his unholy and unnatural bid for vengeance from beyond the grave, Steve was a slob.
Steve’s hand flopped forward once again. Eight to fourteen more flips and it would be all over for Janet. Or would it? Janet shook her head and rolled her eyes at her own foolishness. What was she scared of exactly? It was just a hand. She was a whole person with access to large bowls with lids on them.
“HA!” she yelled at the struggling hand as she grabbed a container from the cupboard. She hoped that the famous “Burp-Ware” guarantee that it will “seal in ANYTHING” included animated bits of the undead but figured that if it didn’t, she could take it back to K-Mart for a refund and pick up that sweet bright pink blender she saw in the paper.
CLAMP. Oh hell. It had reached her ankle. No matter, she was in control of herself now. It was surprisingly strong as it began to pinch her calf when she plucked it off using some Rooster festooned bar-be-cue tongs. Victory! She held it up to her face and taunted the squirming hand.. “You think you can scare me Steve?” The hand flipped her off. “Well I’m glad you’re dead!” she screamed and cackled. She began dancing and bobbing the hand in front of her face. “Ohhh… I’m such a scary haaaaand. ooooooooo – DAMN!” The last part was cut off as Steve’s hand had flicked her right in the nose hard enough to really sting.
“All Right! Into the container with you!” Janet sneered. Slam-pop-seal-burp and that was that. Janet could bury the nasty hand back in the Garden and maybe get together a zombie hand banishment spell orgy together via twitter. (what else is twitter good for?)
It wasn’t until she heard the squishy footstep and smelled the rotten, putrid stench of too much Axe body spray (also death) coming from behind her that Janet thought about the rest of dead Steve’s body. She had only cut off the one hand so the rest should be mostly intact.