A Night on the Town

They stood, frozen, on Franklin Avenue, late Monday night, eyes able to dart around but no other movement possible. Everyone was facing the gothic cathedral that served as the focal point of town, one interesting building nestled into a small cookie-cutter suburbia. The moon shone brightly in the sky, illuminating a column of light which went through the windows of the clerestory and down to the road where they stood petrified.

Why is this happening? Bernice's thoughts screamed in her head, though she was unable to verbalize any of them. Each of her three friends, likely in the same predicament, eyes racing back and forth, frantic though statuesque. This should have been a night of hijinks. They'd snuck out to drink and frolic while the peaceful town slept, everyone's windows shuttered and doors locked.

In Meritville, no one went out after dark. The town was a relic where streetlights popping on meant going home…or else. Bernice and her friends, still young, believed their parents used scare tactics to keep them under lock and key, and not that there was any credence to the odd stories which floated around town, whispered in corners and passed from parents to children.

"Let's do it," Bernice proclaimed.

"Do what?"

"Go out tonight, Alex. Let's go out!"

"You know that's not allowed."

Bernice rolled her eyes at her stocky friend, "That's what makes it fun," she replied, a defiant young woman, having just crossed the threshold of adulthood, eighteen years old. "Right guys?"

Tommy and Meka nodded, unsure, but bored with the town's archaic rules.

"It's settled then. I'll even steal the booze from my dad's secret stash. Let's meet by the church and we'll head into the woods from there. Ok?"

"Does it have to be the church?"

"Yes, Alex, why? Scared?"

"You know the stories, Bernice. Can't we meet somewhere else?"

"No, the woods are the best place to go. I don't want to get caught. I just want to have a little fun."

"Fine."

The group could see wraiths descending from the clerestory windows, floating down, menacing but slow. There was no hurry, no need to rush. Perhaps the monsters delighted in the anticipation, savoring the delicious fear rolling off of the stupid children below.

Cortisol levels spiking, Bernice, Alex, Tommy and Meka, could do nothing but watch. Their bodies couldn't even tremble, though they were all soaked in sweat, clothes sticking to their bodies in uncomfortable places. Chafing, however, was the least of their worries.

Black shadowy figures, dark wisps of smoke hugging their inexact forms, red eyes glinting in the night, moved closer as the seconds ticked by. The creatures knew nothing could stop their feasting, the prey below was unable to run or call for help. And, they'd been waiting so long just to be seen that they relished in the drawn out approach.

Ghouls of a sort, invisible in daylight, though always hovering in the upper reaches of the cathedral, they could only strike when seen. The town knew this, lived it, carried the burden year after year, but the younger folks never believed, not at first. Such was the case for this unfortunate troop.

Bernice felt responsible for this situation. She'd never taken the warnings, the stories, seriously. They'd always seemed far fetched, ways for parents to control their children, turn them into god-fearing automatons. And, now, they'd all pay the price for her flightiness, her need to rebel.

Mostly, the creatures were harmless. They couldn't hurt anyone during the day, even the overcast and rainy ones, only visible under the light of the moon. Nearing the road, their frayed vestments were visible, along with shadowy fingers and featureless faces.

Bernice was screaming on the inside, but no sound made its way to the surface. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Her pleas and platitudes were sincere and she hoped her friends knew, that they'd forgive her before the end. I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't know.

But, as the stories went, there would be no escape. Once you've seen the creatures, it's only a matter of time until they ripped your soul from your terrified body as you stood rooted to the ground, no way to escape.

Face to face now, the wicked creatures delighted in their captive meals and though no words were exchanged, to the young folks, the ghouls felt evil and thirsty. Bernice's mind raced, her final thoughts were that she'd have lived well into her 70s, a career and family, if it weren't for this violent end. Another trick of the evil ghouls, to show you what could have been before taking your life.

In a moment of searing pain, life slipped from Bernice's weak grasp, sucked into the belly of the wraith. Her friends befell similar fates, one by one, until their lifeless shells collapsed onto the sidewalk, leathery and grey.

The wraiths, having drunk their fill, simply floated up to the clerestory to wait for their next sumptuous meal. They had time. They were endless.

Jessica Gleason is an author, poet, and visual artist muddling her way through life. She is a writing professor who enjoys wearing Star Trek uniforms and singing a mean hair metal karaoke. Her short poetry collection, "Sundown on this Town," is available from Popcorn Press. She's also included in "Hear Us Scream: The Voices of Horror Vol. 2". https://jgwrites.carrd.co/

Find more by Jessica Gleason in the Author Index.

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