(HSSC2) Phantasmagorie

The sign out front may read Phantasmagorie, but everyone knows it as the Hellhole.
It started with the residents still trying to scrape a life from the dingy corners of the rundown neighborhood, really. It wasn't just the loud music rushing out the front doors they didn't understand; the people who came to their dirty streets four nights a week to dance to it bothered them more.
So the Hellhole they called it, and the Hellhole its attendees adopted at first with disdainful amusement, then as a part of life.

It's fitting, if you think about it.

Julius drives an honest-to-god hearse to the Hellhole every single Thursday, Friday, Saturday & Sunday. He hasn't missed a night yet, and he always sweeps out of the thing trailing an ankle-length black duster and a cadre of similarly dressed hangers-on. Pleather pants squeaking, they stride in unison to the front door and sneer at any neighborhood urchins unlucky enough to be walking nearby. There's a flash of pointed canine tooth as they sneer if the moon is just right, and the way they time their strides to the very, very loud music gives the impression of some sort of undead mafia.
...or maybe just a really bad music video, depending on the viewer's cynicism.

Cynicism is a trait often attributed to the figure in the parking lot, watching the dramatic entrance.
Caleb knows Julius was born with the less-than-cool moniker of Edwin and that he parks that hearse in front of his parents' house when he goes home. He knows the pleather pants and the plastic vampire caps on his teeth came from Hot Topic.
He watches in silence for a few moments as more people stride and flow their way towards the entrance and down the steps inside.
"C'mon," he growls to his companion finally.

On a normal night, the Hellhole is a living monument to death and despair. It's monochrome save for the occasional splash of red lipstick or fingernail and there's so much smoke in the air that it's easy to think you're walking through a thick fog. The lights are low enough that dancers' black clothes fade into the background and the only thing clearly visible are disembodied white faces and hands swaying and dipping gloomily.
Tonight, the night before Halloween, though, Phantasmagorie is almost comical.
The paper skeleton cutouts on the walls, the cotton spiderwebs stretched from the corners, it all sends Caleb's companion into a fit of uncontrollable wheezing laughter.
He half-smiles. Painted trees swaying in a paper graveyard, they are, the lot of 'em.
How many times had he thought, "if they only knew"? Too many times, he knows, far too many.
And he thinks it once more.

"Caleb," comes the affected breathy greeting.
"Julius," he rasps in reply, not looking away from the dance floor. He bites back a smile at the urge to call him Edwin in front of his friends.
"Excellent time to show up again, my friend. We've got big plans for tomorrow," Julius takes a drag from the clove cigarette perpetually clutched in his black-tipped fingers and adjusts one of the caps on his teeth. "I haven't seen you in months. Who's this?"
Caleb ignores the slick, simpering grin directed at his companion. "A friend. What plans?"
Julius takes a half-step closer, which is more than too close for comfort considering he had already been standing less than a foot away to be heard over the music. "Zombie apocalypse, my friend. Zombie apocalypse. We're all gonna come out tomorrow dressed as zombies." Something that he passes for a wicked grin splits his pale face. "How delicious is that? The undead dressing up as the walking dead for Halloween!" His sychophants buzz in agreement and gloomy delight.
Caleb sighs. "You're not the undead, Julius. You work at Applebees."
Everyone falls silent.
"Just until I get my mortician's license," he shoots back, looking hurt. "I only have two more semesters to go."
Though she doesn't make a sound, Caleb can feel his companion shaking in silent mirth.
"If only you knew," he murmurs softly. Then, louder, "The undead. The walking dead. Why are you so obsessed with death, Julius?" The silent shaking becomes audible wheezing laughter again.
The mortician-never-to-be gets more flustered. "Doesn't she talk?" he demands, trying to change the subject.
"Rarely," Caleb growls with a half-smile, and finally turns his head to look at his old friend. "You didn't answer my question."
Julius sneers, but it's halfhearted. "Because it's more beautiful than life. Because it's romantic and because it's forever."

It starts as as what appears to be a grin, but as Caleb grabs Julius' collar and pulls him so their noses touch, the glint in his eyes turns the grin into a rictus. "Beautiful? Romantic?" The group behind Julius flitters about inefficiently like a flock of birds, not wanting to get clipped by a spiked wristband on the hand holding their friend. "At least you got the forever part right."
And Caleb can feel it building in him, around him, and the tense drawing-in of his companion next to him.
Julius tries without much success to shake himself loose. "What the hell, man?" he whimpers.
"You," Caleb breathes. "You, them, all of you. You revel in death? Misery?" He exhales forcefully and the rictus-grin spreads wider. "You. Have. No. Idea."
Everything in the club seems to slow down and, were an unaffected observer watching, everything would indeed appear to slow down. In the near-timestop, Caleb can hear the confusion in his target's mind.
"Death isn't what you think. It's nothing like you think it is," he whispers, and he's aware of a quiet chant coming from his formerly silent companion. "You haven't seen me in months because I've been dead for months, Julius. And now," his head slowly turns to glance at the clock behind the bar. "And now it's officially Halloween, and you'll die today too. Isn't that delicious?"

Her voice grows louder.
"inferi...inferi...inferi. Inferi. Inferi. INFERI! INFERIIIIIIII!"

Caleb lets his old friend go as his eyes roll back, and watches as he crumples, millimeter by millimeter, to the floor. Like marionettes with cut strings, the rest of the people in club begin to fall as well, and his companion's screaming chant drowns out the music.
And as nearly 200 die at once, the two left standing throw their heads back and drink it in.

**********************

It's over in less than a minute, and when time catches back up with the world, two pair of boots stand amongst a sea of bodies.
They are satiated.
"Memento mori," Caleb whispers with a half smile, eyes scanning the corpse-carpet.
"Requiescat in dolor," his companion answers.

As they walk out, Caleb knocks a candle onto a prone form wearing a gauzy, very flamable dress.


[edit on 12-10-2004 by Banshee]

Very well written, TheBan. Looks like I'm going to have to dredge my stories of yore to even compete with you.

DE

wow!! that was good. well written scary story. I likes alot!!

Banshee,
I had to read your story twice to let it sink in. Definitely a really eerie Halloween story! I'm embarred at mine little stories. I'm going to have to do better!

Very creepy, Banshee! There is piling up to be some very stiff competision this go around.

Thanks for the compliments, guys.
I'm not normally one to put my writing out for public consumption, so it certainly helps.

I liked it. Nice one Banshee.

you are right Jonna, this one will be interesting, there is alot of good competition.

Aha! I knew it. Banshee hits up the Goth scene.

Gauzy dresses, tooth caps, clove cigarettes, and the whole 'oh, I'm so saaaahhhd...'



only thing you were missing was descriptions of all the gaudy makeup. Great story.

I'm shocked!

Great story Banshee!

Awesome story Banshee! The description was so wonderful, it sounds just like a club downtown where all of the Hot Topic groupies hang out. Haha! Great job!

Creepy Banshee Still feel the chills

wow, nice job!! very well written!!