‘Flatbellies,’ a short horror story

Photo courtesy of ph under the auspices of a Creative Commons license.

Introduction to “Flatbellies”

I have long wanted to write a horror story about creatures washed ashore during the storm surge of a hurricane.

I’ve experienced several hurricanes myself, though I’ve never witnessed a storm surge. You’d have to be near the shoreline to see that, and anybody near a shoreline during a hurricane has more things to worry about than looking for strange creatures tossed ashore. Storm surge is the most lethal and destructive aspect of a hurricane.

I have, however, witnessed the aftermath of storm surge. Hurricanes are good at washing seashells ashore, many of which we’ve never seen before because they exist in waters too deep for the average beachgoer. Sometimes, also, a strange sea creature will join that colorful collection of shells, washed ashore by the turbulent tides of storm.

So it is not a far reach to suppose that a monster, or monsters, could also be carried into our midst by a tropical cyclone, and that this journey is part of their reproductive cycle … a chilling thought, there, as they rely on human beings for their … food.

My friend Debbie, who worked at the Mobile Press-Register in Mobile, Ala., mentioned to me she was looking for a Halloween story to publish in her Halloween day feature section. So I wrote this story for her.

I wanted the story to feel like a local legend, an apocryphal tale related to children on Halloween night, after the candy had been sampled, the scary movies watched, and all the little ghouls and goblins lying down to sleep.

Beware the hurricanes, my little ones, because when the storm water sweeps in it brings with it some unwelcome visitors … who might just take a young boy or girl with them, back into the briny deeps.

Beware the flatbellies!

—

FLATBELLIES

Amy Martin, hands on hips, gave her brother what she hoped was a look of smoldering contempt and declared, “Congratulations, wise guy. Your children won’t go to sleep for approximately the rest of their lives.”

A jack-o-lantern leered from the corner of the living room with a flickering, gape-toothed grin. Black crepe paper bats, hanging from the ceiling by threads, twirled slowly as the Mobile, Ala., night eased through the window screen, carrying with it the wet odor of dew-soaked grass, half-chewed bubblegum, and scorched pumpkin carcass. The doorbell had not rung in a good two hours. Trick-or-treating was over for this year.

Amy’s brother, Ben, hoisted himself from the couch with an amiable grunt and hit the power button on the TV remote, cutting off Jamie Lee Curtis in mid-scream. The room fell dark. He growled playfully and wrapped his arms around Amy as she collected Atomic Fireball and Sweet Tarts wrappers from the coffee table. She couldn’t help but giggle.

“Honestly, Ben. ‘Mall of the Dead?’ ’’ she chided. “The mannequins come to life and eat the shoppers? Couldn’t you tell them a Halloween story that wouldn’t damage their brains? Something with Casper, the friendly ghost?”

Upstairs, they could hear Ben’s wife, Laurie, speaking softly to the boys, Nathan and Adam, who had tearfully departed the living room with a promise to never, ever let their parents take them to the mall again, not even if Britney Spears was giving a free concert in the food court.

“When I was a kid the mannequins ate little boys!” Ben announced, thumping his chest with in a pompous affect. “And we liked it!”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, your lurid story even spooked me. I’m not so sure about trying on that outfit I had in mind for my classes.” In fact, she’d moved to Mobile this past July after having lived in Biloxi, Miss., for most of the past decade. A teaching position at McGill-Toolin had suddenly become available and she jumped at the chance to put her degree in education to work.

Ben popped the jack-o-lantern’s top and blew out the candle, releasing a plume of curling white candle smoke that framed his face, giving it a weird, almost spectral appearance. He blew air from his nose and stood back, shaking away the smell. Finally, he said, “It isn’t the plastic dummies in the Tommy Hilfiger knits I’d worry about, if I were you. It’s The Flatbellies.”

Amy ambled out of the living room, a wad of candy wrappers crushed in her palm. Upstairs, Laurie was still calming the boys. She’d have a thing or two to say to Ben when she came down.

“Flatbellies? What’s that supposed to mean?” Amy called from the kitchen. “Are you implying my stomach is no longer flat?”

Ben chuckled in the dark. “No, dummy. But you live in Fairhope, don’t you?”

Yes, she did. She’d found a nice two-bedroom apartment at a fairly cheap price. It would do until she decided the job agreed with her, or she agreed with the job.

“That means you have to cross the Bayway every day,” he continued. “Tell me something. Do you ever cross it at night?”

She dumped the wrappers into the trash. “Of course. How do you think I’ll get home tonight?”

“And as you’re crossing the bridge, do you ever look out into the bay?”

“Why would I do that?” she huffed. “It’s dark out there.”

“Not entirely,” he said. “There are lights out there.”

“Flounderers, maybe,” she answered uncertainly.

From the kitchen, she could see him shaking his head. “Maybe. Or. …”

“Or?”

“Or Joe Tully,” he finished.

“I suppose there’s a story behind this,” Amy sighed. She fished a Diet Coke from the refrigerator. Maybe she should make popcorn to go along with the yarn-spinning about to commence.

“Joe Tully was a professional fisherman who lived in the back bayous all his life,” Ben began. “He was married and had a little girl. To pay the rent he operated a couple of shrimp boats, and a couple of oyster boats to boot, though the oysters you tonged from the bay, even back then, weren’t fit to eat. Still, you could find some good beds where the creeks fed into the bayous and kept the bottom fairly clean.

“But what Joe really enjoyed was taking people out on sport fishing expeditions.”

Amy cracked open the Diet Coke. She began snooping through the cabinet for a package of microwaveable popcorn.

“Mostly these were lawyers from Montgomery and Birmingham who wanted to prowl the gulf where they could hook a big marlin or a sail. Joe had bought himself a good-sized Rampage sportfisher, which was his pride and joy, though it was mostly owned by the bank. Still, he was one of those rare individuals who gets to do what he loves for a career. Just think, Amy: The man was paid for having fun all day. Wouldn’t that be the life?”

Well, she didn’t think teaching Shakespeare and gerunds was all that bad, but she understood his point.

“But like a lot of fishermen, poor old Tully fell on hard times – between the sea turtle people and the catch-limit people and the bankers calling in their loans and even the pollution regulators, it looked like Tully would have to pack in his gear, sell the boats and take up real estate. And just when things didn’t seem like they could get any worse, Hurricane Frederick came barging up the gulf, with Mobile smack dab in the crosshairs. That’s when a strange and possibly miraculous event took place.”

Amy closed the cabinet and began opening drawers. “Yes?” she asked absently.

“Hours before the storm hit, a mysterious fellow appeared at Joe’s dock. Dressed from head to toe in Eddie Bauer gear – and that was back when an Eddie Bauer goose down jacket could set you back half a year’s discretionary income. The fellow handed Joe a cashier’s check for a million bucks and said the money was his. All he had to do was take this fellow out on the bay – during Hurricane Frederick.”

“He must have been nuts,” Amy observed, rooting through packages of gravy mix, chili seasoning and hot chocolate in search of a single Orville Redenbacher’s envelope.

“Oh, it gets better,” Ben continued. “He wanted to go in one of Tully’s oyster boats.”

Amy stopped. That was crazy.

“He told Tully he was searching for a rare creature that appears only during hurricanes. It’s carried shoreward from the ocean bottom and uses the storm surge to push it into the shallow, inland waters – see, it’s not a strong swimmer at all, sort of like a jellyfish. But if it gets into those shallow waters it tends to stay there, where it breeds and … well, I don’t know how to say this.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “You’ve already terrified the kids. You might as well finish off the adults.”

Ben paused, allowing the silence to ratchet up the tension. And then he said in an ominously quiet voice, “It feeds on people.”

“I thought those were called ‘gold-diggers,’ ’’ Amy snickered.

“It pulls them off the beach, or from their cars on bridges, or out of boats, and carries them down to the bottom, where it slowly drains the fluid from their bodies, like a vampire.”

Amy curled her lip in disgust. “What planet do you come from?”

He held up his hands. “I’m not joking! How do you think all those people in Galveston died during the big storm of 1900?”

“You’re insane!” she declared. “Sometimes I wonder if we’re actually related to one another.”

“That’s what Joe Tully said. He told the man he was out of his mind, that when Frederick rolled in there’d be a 20-foot storm surge and half the city might go under. Two men in the middle of Mobile Bay in an oyster tonger wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of surviving, monsters or no monsters, and a million dollars wouldn’t do anybody any good after that, except maybe their heirs – and that’s when Joe’s eyes lit up. Because while he was prepared to work the rest of his life to pay off his debts, there was no reason his wife and little girl had to suffer for his foolishness. Maybe if he and this stranger went out into the bay and got themselves killed, his family could pay off the house and the Rampage, and start a new life in the company of somebody who was a little more responsible with his business sense. So in a dramatic about-face, Joe told the man shoot yes, he’d do it. They ran the guy’s million-dollar check by Joe’s house (Joe didn’t say a word to his wife, Elaine, about what they were doing), packed their gear aboard the biggest tonger Joe had in his inventory, the one with the brand-new Evinrude, and set out into the stormy night.

“It was bad. Worse than can be described. The power had gone off and there was no light at all, anywhere. You tend to forget how dark it can be at night when there aren’t any lights for miles around. They plowed through waves that were 10 feet tall. Whitecaps kept sloshing over the bow, and Joe had the stranger bailing with an old Folgers coffee can just to keep the gunwales from swamping. The wind howled, and once ever so often something would flap by in the dark, a hostage to that evil wind. Joe struggled to keep the bow pointed into the waves and hoped they could keep the boat afloat until the eye of Frederick came in.

“They made it across the flats, which were under 12 feet of water, and headed out toward the bridge. There was already debris floating in the bay – broken-up docks, Dumpsters, you name it. About that time, the man started screaming about something and reached for his gear. He unpacked a long, stainless steel flounder gig. And then he scrambled up on the bow, where the search light was mounted.

“He hit the switch.”

By this time Amy had stopped searching for the popcorn. The story had actually become interesting. She waited, and when Ben said nothing, she prompted him with an impatient, “Well?”

“Well, at first Joe couldn’t see anything,” Ben continued in a near whisper. “Just sheets of rain and spray from the storm. But then, he spotted something in the water. Something that was moving.

“Something that was swimming toward the light.”

Amy felt a cool patch of gooseflesh begin to tingle at the base of her neck.

“He couldn’t make out what it was. But as it came closer, he began to see, and that’s when he began to wonder what brand of insanity had compelled him to come out here, and how he wished to God he were safely back ashore with his wife and daughter, listening to the storm swirl around them from the safety of their boarded-up house, the million dollars be damned.

“The thing in the water – it was as big as a man, with rudimentary arms and legs. But it was flat, and fishbelly white, like a flounder, with great, big staring eyes, side by side against a flat spatula of skull. And there, in the middle of its head, was a sucking mouth, like a lamprey’s, full of sharp bristles. Joe could picture this thing slithering from the water and battening onto him like a tick, or a leech, then dragging him out of the boat and hauling him down to the turbid depths of Mobile Bay, where he would remain forever.

“The man at the bow prepared to hurl his gig when suddenly, a wave caused the boat to lurch, and the searchlight beam played across the surface of the bay.

“Joe saw hundreds of the things out there, as far as the beam could reach into the howling dark. Their eyes caught the light and threw back a magenta glow, and their expressions were shot through with the remorseless hunger of a parasite. They stared without blinking, as if transfixed, and their obscene mouths opened and closed in a grotesque parody of feeding.

“The stranger shouted, ‘Too many of them! They’re attracted to the light – we must shut off the light. We must get out of here! They’ll kill us and overrun the entire Mobile Bay estuary by morning!”

In his mind’s eye, Joe could see these creatures lurking in the quiet, shallow bayous that lined the bay. He could see them creeping from the water at night to haul away some poor soul who had gone outside to see what the dog was barking at.

He could see his wife, Elaine, and their daughter, peeking from the living room window as something concealed in shadow, something flat and horrible, waited for one of them to open the door.

“Joe shouted back at the man, ‘We’re not going anywhere! If they’re attracted to light then we’ll stay here with our searchlight until after the storm surge passes, so they’ll stay with us and not hit the shallows north of here. Then the damn things can float back out into the gulf when the tide goes down!’ ’’

By this time Laurie had come downstairs. She took up a spot next to Amy in the kitchen and listened.

“The stranger freaked and tried to gig ol’ Joe, but right at that moment one of those things reached over the side and yanked him by the ankle, and the man tumbled into the bay. Joe throttled up the Evinrude and tried to swing around to grab the man, but he could see nothing was to be done – a swarm of The Flatbellies had him and were carrying him below. So Joe motored over to the bridge and moored to one of the pilings, leaving lots of slack in the line, and there he stayed, with the search light shining directly into the water. Those things surrounded the boat and tried to climb aboard, but Joe fought them using the flounder gig, and finally a paddle, and after an hour of battling and bailing, it was almost a relief to Joe when he looked south of the bridge and saw a mountain of shrieking water bearing down on him. Frederick’s storm surge had roared in.

“Joe had hoped to provide for his family by dying out there on the water, but now his only hope was that he save them from an evil far worse than a few debts.

“The next morning, when the inspectors for the Alabama Department of Transportation checked the bridge, they found his boat hanging from one of the support columns. Its searchlight was still shining in the water.

“And to this day, when people drive over the Bayway crossing Mobile Bay at night, and they see lights out there on the water, some of them who’ve heard this story wonder if Joe Tully still isn’t out there, protecting his family from whatever creepy thing might be slithering along the bottom, heading for the flats north of the bridge.

“It makes you wonder, too, doesn’t it?” Ben finished mysteriously.

Laurie looked at Amy with a puzzled expression. She said, “Did your mother drop him on his head when he was a child?”

That night, driving back to Fairhope, Amy kept her eyes straight ahead as she crossed the bridge that spanned Mobile Bay.

But it didn’t do any good. A car was parked in the breakdown lane with its lights on.

Nobody was inside.

Amy didn’t stop. She kept driving, hoping the needle on the fuel gauge would not touch E, or that a Check Engine light would come on, or any of the hundreds of things that could go wrong with a car would go wrong at that exact moment. She did not know what she would do if that were to happen.

Except that she would turn off the headlights. And NOT open the door.

And hope that somewhere, out on those marshy black flats, a searchlight would appear.

About the author:

Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”

Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.

As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.

Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .

Image courtesy of Del Stone Jr.

This was the scene at Casa Del Mar for last night’s Spookfest. A few observations:

A. I managed to sit in that driveway for five hours with only one pee break, a new post-Young Del record.

B. My first trick-or-treaters arrived at 5:41 p.m. When I went to bed at 10:30 I could still hear them outside.

C. Usually there’s a 50-50 mix of young kids to teenagers. This year there was a definite majority of young kids.

D. My oldest trick-or-treater had a beard.

E. Nobody offered me alcohol this year.

F. I was watching John Carpenter’s “Halloween” on the laptop while handing out candy. The laptop froze probably five times during the playback. One cause was constant Microsoft updates. Other causes … unknown.

G. During the one and only sex scene in “Halloween,” A PG-rated clip of P.J. Soles and her boyfriend gyrating under the sheets, a group of teenaged trick-or-treaters arrived. I quickly learned to pause the movie and in some cases, lower the screen.

H. I had loaded up on Snickers bars this year because they were always the No. 1 choice in the past. No more. Smarties is now the new popular candy.

I. I used a votive candle in my jack-o-lantern and it stayed lit the entire night.

J. How many trick-or-treaters did I have? I didn’t count. But I started with five of those big $30 bags of candy and I now have one.

K. The kids were mostly polite, though I noticed more kids this year wanting to grab fistfuls of candy.

L. There were more adults than kids, though the adults didn’t ask for anything. They were escorting.

M. FWBPD was riding through the neighborhood on electric bikes, complete with flashing lights.

N. The best costume of the night belonged to a kid who made a box, decorated it with lights and graphics, and wore it over his entire body. He was a box of Topps trading cards.

O. On Halloween nights past things usually wrapped at 8:30, 8:45 at the latest. Last night I called it quits at 9:20 but as I said, I could still hear kids going up and down the street at 10:30 when I went to bed.

P. Today I found three pieces of candy in the driveway dropped by kids.

About the author:

Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”

Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.

As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.

Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .

Image courtesy of Warner Bros.

“The Conjuring: Last Rites” Starring Vera Farmiga, Patrick Wilson, Mia Tomlinson and others. Directed by Michael Chaves. 2 hours, 15 minutes. Rated R. Theatrical release.

Plot synopsis: Paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren are drawn into a final investigation when their daughter becomes involved with a family being stalked by demons inhabiting a cursed mirror.

Spoilers: one large spoiler toward the end of the review.

Del’s take

Mladen was out of town and I was bored, so I decided to throw in with Spooky Season and catch an afternoon showing of “The Conjuring: Last Rites.” Good thing it was daylight. I was the only person in the theater, which was scary enough. I would not have wanted to walk to my car in the dark!

Why hasn’t Vera Farmiga won an Oscar? She’s clearly a terrific actor, bringing expressiveness and pathos to her characters, no matter if she’s Norman Bates’ mother in “Bates Motel” or the two-timing Alex Goran of “Up in the Air.” She is the warm heart and brighter soul of the very dark “Conjuring” franchise, which includes:

“The Conjuring” (2013)

“Annabelle” (2014)

“The Conjuring 2” (2016)

“Annabelle: Creation” (2017)

“The Nun” (2018)

“The Curse of La Llorona” (2019)

“Annabelle Comes Home” (2019)

“The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It” (2021)

“The Nun 2” (2023)

“The Conjuring: Last Rites” (2025)

In “Last Rites” she continues a series of excellent performances as Lorraine Warren, the real-life paranormal investigator who, with her husband Ed, brought the idea of ghostbusting into the mainstream by way of their involvement in the Amityville Horror in which a New York couple claimed their house was inhabited by a violent demonic presence. That case itself led to the production of a series of movies and best-selling books.

“Last Rites” suggests an end to the “Conjuring” series but do you seriously believe any movie studio in its right mind would shut down a franchise in which the most recent installment generated $440 million in box office receipts? If anything “Last Rites” works as a springboard to launch a whole new series of spooky investigations – but with new characters.

Patrick Wilson’s Ed is ready to call it quits after suffering a near-fatal heart attack and his wife, Farmiga’s Lorraine, is on board with retirement. But daughter Judy (Mia Tomlinson) finds herself under constant psychic attack by ghosts and demons, brought into renewed fury by a haunted mirror picked up at a thrift shop by the Smurl family of blue collar West Pittston, Pennsylvania. This same haunted mirror has a history with Judy, having almost taken her life at birth. Judy and fiancé Tony (Ben Hardy) are drawn into mortal peril when Judy sees the Spurl’s predicament on TV and recognizes her connection. In the process she convinces her parents to take on one last ghostbusting gig and events proceed downhill from there.

The story is told through a series of flashbacks that bounce back and forth from periods of Judy’s childhood to the present, which is set in 1986. While it would seem to focus on the Spurl’s haunting, and Judy and Tony’s terror-cladded involvement, it’s really about Ed and Lorraine’s last hurrah. And we know it’s their last hurrah because at the end of the movie Ed – brace yourself for a spoiler – hands the key to the room containing the Warren’s haunted curious and artifacts to Tony. Expect future “Conjuring” installments starring the Judy and Tony duo.

“Last Rites” requires a bit of attention from the audience due to its constant shifting of viewpoint but overall it’s a decent piece of work by Chaves, who has helmed other “Conjuring” installments.

But is it scary? I’m hesitant to answer that question. Few horror movies scare me these days – my friend Hawk tells me that’s because I’m a horror writer and my senses have been dulled to all things that go bump in the night. I thought “The Ring,” “The Grudge” and “It Follows” were very scary, but horror movies that require gore or jump scares to frighten their audiences don’t do much for me. I thought there were a couple of scenes in “Last Rites” that were definitely creepy but overall I didn’t find it scary so much as long. At 2 hours and 15 minutes it seemed to go on forever.

Still, it’s a decent movie and I wish some of you had been in the theater with me as I wouldn’t have been so creeped out by the idea that there was nobody present to hear me laugh – or scream!

I’m giving “The Conjuring: Last Rites” a solid B. If you want to see it in theaters you’d better hurry – it’s been in theatrical release for awhile and will move on soon.

It’s a terrific movie for Spooky Season – if you don’t go alone.

Mladen Rudman is a former journalist and technical writer. Del Stone Jr. is a former journalist and writer.

Image courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures.

“Weapons” Starring Julie Garner as Justine, Amy Madigan as Gladys, Cary Christopher as Alex, Josh Brolin as Archer, Benedict Wong as Marcus, and others. Directed by Zach Cregger. 2 hours, 8 minutes. Rated R. Theatrical release.

Plot summary: A town is rent asunder when 17 of its children disappear, all from the same elementary school classroom. A teacher, a parent, a cop, a druggie, and a principal are enveloped by strange happenings as the saga of the missing kids devolves.

Spoilers: None

Mladen’s take

“Weapons” is a maybe. Maybe the recently released film is a horror flick. Maybe it’s a thriller. Maybe “Weapons” is slasher-y. Maybe it’s a good movie. And, maybe, I’ll never again see a film that Del recommends.

Yet, somehow, for some reason, the film has me bewitched. It’s the score. Every bit of music is matched perfectly to the scene it depicts. I’m telling you, no matter the combination of floating electronica or the talent of real musicians playing real instruments, the score made the movie’s etherealness palpable. I heard the eeriness, not as a complement to what was happening on the screen, but as its own story. As an aside, dear reader, a film’s score and its soundtrack are different animals. In this case, the soundtrack is sufficient.

What other recent movie scores accomplish the feat of making their films as aurally vibrant as their pictures? “Guns Akimbo.” “Dune.” “Blade Runner 2049.” “Ad Astra.” If you’re a streamer, listen to the soundtrack for “The Swarm.” Magnificent.

“Weapons” secondary merits are fairly abundant, too. The film is a slow burn that has you wondering what comes next. Also done well is the way the director blends “chapters,” each dedicated to one of our central characters, into a complete story with, of course, a climatic ending that brings all of them together. The way the director tells the story, as connected vignettes, was helped by very good acting. All the characters were well developed and both likable and unlikable.

The trouble with “Weapons?” The first had nothing to do with the film – I bought Del’s ticket to reciprocate a measly favor he did for me – but the others do.

I dislike movies where children are in peril or victimized or evil doers, even if they had no say in what they are doing. “Weapons” is that from beginning to end. It’s OK if high schoolers or young adults get whacked. In movies, as in life, they’re useless. But kids, “The Exorcist,” “The Omen”, “Children of the Corn,” come one. And, frankly, the ending ain’t all that cheerful, either.

What can I say? Depending on your taste or distaste, you’ll enjoy the movie or you won’t. For me, “Weapons” is a B-. I just don’t like seeing children in jeopardy, though I sure as hell adore the soundtrack that forced me to like a type of film I would normally disparage.

Del’s take

“Measly” favor my backside, Mladen. I figure you owe me an ADU in your back yard, maybe a Bentley. But I’ll agree with your B- grade of “Weapons” but not for the same reasons. Hear me out.

NPR says “Weapons” is a “terrific and terrifying movie.” No, it isn’t. It’s an OK movie with occasional moments of real tension, but as the curtain falls you’ll be asking yourself if it was worth the fuss.

I do appreciate the way the story was put together. As Mladen said, it’s divided into “chapters,” each one told from a different character’s viewpoint, and the chapters overlap, which at times explains inexplicable events from preceding chapters. Its structure reminded me of a Christopher Nolan movie.

The evolving inexplicabilities were more puzzling than frightening. I’ve seen that done effectively – the vastly underrated “The Crazies” springs first to mind. And that’s the problem with “Weapons.” It’s pitched as a horror movie but for me it wasn’t scary, and that’s a shame because the trailers were actually very creepy. It was over-the-top gory but I don’t conflate blood with tension. If you’d like to watch a REAL scary movie check out “The Innocents” on YouTube, with Deborah Kerr. THAT movie is terrifying, and not one skull was crushed in the process although Mladen would hate it because again, children are placed in peril.

I wasn’t as sold on the soundtrack as Mladen. It followed the modern sensibility of using music you don’t normally associate with a horror movie, and in my opinion it didn’t amplify the sense of foreboding, which I thought was the purpose of a horror movie soundtrack. They did include one very cool George Harrison song I’d never heard. I’ll be looking that up and adding it to my YouTube music playlist.

Quite a few of the characters were unlikeable. The lead viewpoint character, Julie Garner’s Justine, was a quarrelsome, argumentative alcoholic who helped her ex cheat on his present girlfriend. Josh Brolin’s Archer was an enraged finger-pointer in the MAGAt style, and Benedict Wong was an appeaser with questionable taste in lunch (Six hotdogs and a bowl of Cheetohs? C’mon!). The only real sympathetic character was the little boy, Alex (Cary Christopher), who just begged for a responsible adult to swoop in and rescue him from his horrible situation.

Amy Madigan was splendid as Gladys. I didn’t recognize her. I’ve never seen her in a role like that and she nailed it. Kudos … and maybe an Oscar nom?

But alas, not scary. At the movie’s climax people in the audience were laughing, for good reason. Events bordered on comical, and it wasn’t the intentional humor relief necessary to keep the audience invested in a scary story.

So yeah, Mladen, a B- for “Weapons.” Not a bad movie but not a scary Spooky Season movie either. I’ll save my shivers for “The Conjuring.”

Mladen Rudman is a former journalist and technical writer. Del Stone Jr. is a former journalist and writer.

Del Stone Jr.

I don’t know what I was expecting – fire, pestilence, world-ending earthquakes. It is 2020, after all.

In truth, Halloween was like all the recent Halloweens. Here are the highlights:

1. I was afraid the weather would be chilly and windy, but it was perfect – temperatures in the mid-60s and practically no wind. No bugs, either.

2. For the first time in memory, a full moon rode the sky. Patches of clouds drifted across its silvery face, lending a spooky effect. I tried to take a photo with my phone but I couldn’t turn down the brightness and got only a white patch in the sky.

3. I went old school on the jack-o-lantern. I wanted to replicate the look of the jack-o-lanterns in “Halloween.” According to my niece Liz, I achieved that goal.

4. We got our first batch of trick-or-treaters around 6. They seemed to come in waves. The last wave moved through just after 8:30 p.m.

5. The kids, as always, were very polite, as were their parents.

6. I did not take photos of the trick-or-treaters this year due to the meltdown by the millennial mom last year. Pity. I used to love taking their photos.

7. The neighbors on the corner were having a driveway party and they were the belle of the ball. Every batch of trick-or-treaters in the neighborhood came by their place, as did some of their parents and even the bicycle cops patrolling the neighborhood.

8. The real must-stop destination was the Port-A-Potty at the house under construction next door. No. 2 was the dumpster near the Port-A-Potty.

9. We gave out the good stuff this year – Snickers, Three Muskateers, M&Ms, Reese’s Cups, Smarties and Twix. I only ate about five.

10. Mom and I had our traditional Halloween night treat – Little Caeser’s pepperoni pizza. Mom hated it. She ended up eating diced melon.

11. Pickups and golf carts loaded with kids cruised by. They weren’t decorated as often as in the past.

12. One kid wore a full-body costume depicting the human musculature. When I complimented him on his costume he said, “Yeah. Sixty bucks!”

13. My favorite costume of the night – a girl wore an inflatable dragon. It even had a fan running underneath – either to keep the dragon at full inflate or keep her cool.

14. A man wearing no costume approached and explained, “I’ve been designated as the bag carrier.” I filled his bags with candy.

15. What would have made it a better Halloween? A giant cooler filled with iced beer, a grill loaded with brats and a spooky soundtrack playing.

16. Once again this year I failed to get our Halloween decorations put up. I was too sick and there were too many things going on, what with my sudden retirement and moving in with Mom.

17. There were two fireworks shows in the area. I managed to catch some spectacularly bad photos through the trees.

About the author:

Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”

Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.

As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.

Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .

[ Cover image by Eugene Kim. ]

This is a short story, and it is short even for that. I say up front because I don’t want you to think you’ve been tricked out of your money (pardon the seasonal pun). At 99 cents, “Trick-or-Treat” is priced the lowest Amazon allows. If you don’t think a story of that length is worth a buck, please don’t buy this book.

Now, about “Trick-or-Treat”: I wrote the story back in the ’80s, and you’ll notice dated references to corded telephones and so forth. True story: The first cordless phone I ever saw was in the film “Terms of Endearment.” I remember thinking it was a trendy piece of technology I would never be able to afford, but a few years later I would own, and cherish, a Sony cordless phone.

I present to you the story as I wrote it, warts and all. I have not rewritten it or revised it in any way except to correct typos and misspellings.

Of the story I remember it was my first Halloween away from my parents. I had bought an old house across town and was a little nervous about being a homeowner. Suddenly I was responsible for a monster debt – $45,000 – and a huge obligation of repairs and maintenance. It meant I could not quit my job, nor could I suddenly up and leave for a job in another state. I was home “bound.”

The genesis of the story itself, I’m unsure of. The protagonist, Clifton, bears no resemblance to anyone I know either physically or spiritually. I have never experienced his kind of anger – I wouldn’t want to.

The story is set in the living room of that old house, and when I envision the activities taking  place, they are framed by that house and neighborhood. I can see the yellowish door with the diamond-shaped window. I can see the tan shag carpeting, the sloped driveway, the buggy carport and the paint peeling from the frame.

I can even see Clifton standing in the living room during the climax that, to this day, shocks me and makes me wonder what the heck is wrong with a person who could think of a resolution so diabolical.

If you gave me your 99 cents (of which I get to keep 35; Amazon collects the rest), then I thank you and hope you enjoy “Trick-or-Treat.”

Think of it this coming Halloween.

Order a copy of “Trick-or-Treat” by following this link:

[ Cover image by Eugene Kim. ]

From Amazon

“While short enough to be called flash fiction, this story delivers the impact of a good horror story. Concise with no wasted words. Excellent read for Halloween.”

– Richard A. Bamberg, author of “The Hunters: Monster Hunting 101”

Trick-or-Treat: Revised, updated and enhanced with additional content, this micro-story punches far above its weight.

Clifton’s girlfriend Lisa has told him goodbye and he is not happy about it.

Not happy at all.

She said she needed space, and time. Clifton has no need of space or time, and now that Halloween is here, with all those happy kids ringing his doorbell and demanding candy, Clifton is ever reminded of his girlfriend, and her class of fourth-graders, and her young daughter, all of them gone now … or maybe not.

Because this Halloween, Clifton has a surprise for Lisa, and all the children in her life.

About the author:

Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”

Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.

As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.

Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, Ello and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .

About this book:

“Trick-or-Treat” is a 756-word short story. It has never been published before.

The book’s total length is 3,516 words.

Image courtesy of IFC Midnight.

“Hellions” Starring Chloe Rose, Robert Patrick, Rossif Sutherland. Directed by Bruce McDonald. 80 minutes. Unrated.

Del’s take

My ever-present quest for those hidden gems of cinema, the obscure horror movie, recently carried me to “Hellions,” a new offering on Netflix. “Hellions” is hidden for a reason, although sadly I had to sit through it to find out why.

The movie begins promisingly enough. Seventeen-year-old Dora is planning a Halloween night liaison with boyfriend Jace at a Halloween party, but first she must drop by that pesky health clinic to see why she’s been summoned. Probably just want her to pick up a prescription or something.

Too bad it wasn’t BCPs because the doctor has news for Dora – she’s knocked up. That’ll sure take the fun out of a night of canoodling with your dope-smoking teen boy.

Dora decides to kick back at the house while her mom and little brother head out for a children’s Halloween party. But later, Jace calls and Dora changes her mind, partly because she wants Daddy Dearest to hear the news ASAP. As she waits for Jace to pick her up, the doorbell rings and a devilishly dressed moppet holds out a trick-or-treat bag.

That’s where the trouble begins, in terms of plot and the movie itself.

What follows is a near incomprehensible descent into … something. I’m not sure what to call it. A fever dream? Madness? An alternate universe?

Suffice it to say Dora and her unborn child, which is rapidly maturing within her belly into some kind of monster, become the targets of a cadre of demon children who want the baby whatever-it-is for something. I never quite figured that out.

I also never figured out the movie’s odd color palette – a kind of faux infrared – and it’s weird soundtrack. Oh, and I almost forgot the exploding pumpkins. Musn’t forget the exploding pumpkins.

“Hellions” is skillfully assembled in technical terms, and it shows flashes of originality and brilliance. But McDonald loses me, and what I predict will be most viewers, about 15 minutes into the movie when events become inexplicably strange, and not really very interesting.

I don’t want to discourage McDonald because I think if he reins in these excursions into visual excess, he should make some decent movies. But “Hellions” isn’t one of them.

I would give it a D+, and the plus is for the inventive costumes.

Del Stone Jr. is a former journalist and author.

Image courtesy of Public Doman Pictures. Creative Commons license.

Ah, Halloween. Time to start Christmas shopping – for 2005.

Did I say “Halloween”? Of course I meant “Harvest Festival,” that time of year when Food World swaps out its summer yellow Ho Hos for the harvest gold Ding Dongs.

At Harvest Festival time we Americans kick back with a warm mug of soy cider, plug in the electric Person-O-Lantern and turn on the computer to surf some scarecrow porn!

What I meant to say was “we Americans of American descent.”

In America, we turn on the television to watch some politically sanitized, gender-neutral trendy scary movies! Those old Halloween fright films simply won’t do anymore. Can’t have little Caleb and Madison getting any big ideas from “Friday the 13^th Part XXII: Jason Gets a Job at the State Department.” One of the kiddies might grow up to invade Iraq!

Next Halloween, remember this story: ‘Trick-or-Treat’

So tonight, be sure to catch some of the new Harvest Festival classics that are sure to air:

“Soccer Mom Massacre” – Desperate Belinda is mad as hell about driving the van with only one electric sliding side door and she’s not going to take it anymore. When husband Squamous, the dermatologist, bingos home the guys from the Botox Poker Mixer he’d better be careful – Belinda has used REAL milk in the latte!

“Night of the Living Telemarketer” – The telephone is chirping and caller ID doesn’t have a clue who it is. Could it be Aunt Skeezy wanting the bagel warmer to heat up her bunion packs? Or somebody else … peddling ski vacations to Aspen for a time-share tour?

“The Day the Earth Took Vioxx” – Scientists discover the Earth’s spirit, otherwise known as Princess Gaia, is suffering from a malodorous infusion of negative aromatherapy from hog farms and NFL locker rooms, not to mention a bad case of Tectonic Itch. To remedy the problem they inject a healing solution of WD-40 and Vioxx directly into the mantle with catastrophic results, ending in a world class action lawsuit!

“Don’t Answer the Cell Phone” – It began with a wrong number and continued with a series of mysterious text messages. The next thing Abercrombie, Valley High’s cheerleading captain knows, her IM emoticon is spinning out of control and her e-mail queue is overflowing with attached ringtones that promise to foretell the day of death for everyone who calls her.

“Attack of the Killer Arugula Salad” – Janet Hyde-Squab Gorgo is regretting the day she agreed to brunch at Dante’s with her Quilters Against Drivers with Cell Phones group. They swapped out the Spinach with Soy and Faux Gorgonzola salad with the Arugula with Captain Crunch Berries and Strawberry Yoo Hoo kids menu salad and since then she’s been having strange drams about equipping the family Voyager with pneumatic shocks and bouncing through the ’hood, Tupac blasting from the CD player.

This column was originally published in the Saturday, Oct. 28, 2004 (estimated) edition of the Northwest Florida Daily News and is used with permission.

About the author:

Del Stone Jr. is a professional fiction writer. He is known primarily for his work in the contemporary dark fiction field, but has also published science fiction and contemporary fantasy. Stone’s stories, poetry and scripts have appeared in publications such as Amazing Stories, Eldritch Tales, and Bantam-Spectra’s Full Spectrum. His short fiction has been published in The Year’s Best Horror Stories XXII; Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine; the Pocket Books anthology More Phobias; the Barnes & Noble anthologies 100 Wicked Little Witch Stories, Horrors! 365 Scary Stories, and 100 Astounding Little Alien Stories; the HWA anthology Psychos; and other short fiction venues, like Blood Muse, Live Without a Net, Zombiesque and Sex Macabre. Stone’s comic book debut was in the Clive Barker series of books, Hellraiser, published by Marvel/Epic and reprinted in The Best of Hellraiser anthology. He has also published stories in Penthouse Comix, and worked with artist Dave Dorman on many projects, including the illustrated novella “Roadkill,” a short story for the Andrew Vachss anthology Underground from Dark Horse, an ashcan titled “December” for Hero Illustrated, and several of Dorman’s Wasted Lands novellas and comics, such as Rail from Image and “The Uninvited.” Stone’s novel, Dead Heat, won the 1996 International Horror Guild’s award for best first novel and was a runner-up for the Bram Stoker Award. Stone has also been a finalist for the IHG award for short fiction, the British Fantasy Award for best novella, and a semifinalist for the Nebula and Writers of the Future awards. His stories have appeared in anthologies that have won the Bram Stoker Award and the World Fantasy Award. Two of his works were optioned for film, the novella “Black Tide” and short story “Crisis Line.”

Stone recently retired after a 41-year career in journalism. He won numerous awards for his work, and in 1986 was named Florida’s best columnist in his circulation division by the Florida Society of Newspaper Editors. In 2001 he received an honorable mention from the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association for his essay “When Freedom of Speech Ends” and in 2003 he was voted Best of the Best in the category of columnists by Emerald Coast Magazine. He participated in book signings and awareness campaigns, and was a guest on local television and radio programs.

As an addendum, Stone is single, kills tomatoes and morning glories with ruthless efficiency, once tied the stem of a cocktail cherry in a knot with his tongue, and carries a permanent scar on his chest after having been shot with a paintball gun. He’s in his 60s as of this writing but doesn’t look a day over 94.

Contact Del at [email protected]. He is also on Facebook, twitter, Pinterest, tumblr, TikTok, and Instagram. Visit his website at delstonejr.com .