Belinda's Story

Belinda’s Story

By: Roger Alderman

After my death at the hands of the twin fishermen, I stand a silent and unseen vigil in the small roadside Diner. My unfinished task to offer witness to the tales of this small town in Florida called Port St John. I watched as a young couple entered and settled in for dinner. The waitress approached as she usually does and collected their order.

The dark-haired young man in a gray t-shirt and jeans leaned in and asked, "What happened then?" The heavily perfumed athletic blonde-haired teen girl looked around and leaned in close to the boy, but the tale she offered was a warning. The following was the message I took away from the conversation I witnessed.

The modern world holds many very real dangers that would drive the general population to madness if they knew the truth of the unseen world. That simple truth is that we are surrounded by creatures of myth and legend, but not all have rainbows and happy endings awaiting the brave or dumb. Belinda's story illustrates just how ignorance of the unseen world and rash thought can lead any one of us to a bitter harvest.

The front door to the small apartment burst open, as a frightened woman in her secretarial office wear enters weeping. Belinda turns and slams the door closed, "Angel! Where are you? We have to stop it!" Her confused blonde roommate walks out of her bedroom in a nightshirt half asleep wiping at the crust at the corner of her eyes," What's with all the yelling? I was taking a quick nap?"

Belinda locks the front door and storms down the small hallway with light wooden flooring to Angel, "It was real! It's all real!" Angel combs her hands through her hair as she pulls her mane back into a quick ponytail, "What are you talking about? What's real?" Belinda grabs Angel by the shoulders and looks into her eyes with conviction, "That website."

Angel brushes Belinda's hands from her shoulders as a growing demeanor of disbelief builds in her facial expression, "I told you the site was a goof there is no such thing as real witches or magical curses. You're just overreacting to a bad day." Belinda wipes the building tears from her eyes, "No, there is no way that this was just a normal bad day." "Besides even if it that was all real. Your bitch of a boss deserved whatever came from it," Angel shrugs and leads Belinda to the weathered leather sofa.

Belinda shakes her head, "Everything I said was an exaggeration and the liquor didn't help. I never wanted anyone to get hurt." "Sit down," Angel demanded from her spooked roommate. Belinda settled in next to Angel and set her purse of the cheap particle board coffee table.  "So, what happened," Angel exhaled and offered a scrutinizing look to her roommate.

"Well, I got to work, and everyone was in a panic running around shredding papers. I asked Ronny the maintenance guy what was going on and he said that the whole office was under investigation for selling fake timeshares," Belinda started shaking as she spoke. "Ouch," Angel recoiled at the picture Belinda was painting of the day's activities.

"The Fed's showed up and started arresting people left and right. I thought I was going to jail after the questioned me about my job at the office," Belinda buried her face into her palms and sobbed. "Belinda, come on now, quit crying and tell me what happened," Angel lifted Belinda's face by her chins while holding a compassionate look at her roommate's confession.

Belinda took a deep thought clearing breath, "They took everyone, but Ronny and me away in handcuffs." Angels look of compassion turned back to confusion, "Okay, so you didn't go to jail." Belinda shook her head, No. Angel continued her investigation, "You were not arrested." Belinda shook her head, No. Angel's confusion mounted, "Were you fined?" Belinda shook her head in defiance of her question.

Angel stood and looked down at Belinda with a judgmental glare, "So why the hell are you crying?" Belinda began weeping again, "I knew you wouldn't understand." Angel shrugged, "What's to understand? Your bitch of a boss and those other dicks who gave you such grief were arrested for illegal real estate deals. They are in jail you're free." Belinda shook her head, "But." "But nothing! Cheer up things are bound to get better I promise, sheesh girl," Angel flopped back down next to her very emotional roommate.

Belinda's expression told Angel there was more to come. "What? Just spit it out already?" Angel exclaimed impatiently. "They froze all the accounts," Belinda blurted out. "So," Angel interrupted. "Even payroll," Belinda offered. "Leroy will understand you just need time to get another job. We have never been late with the rent before. I'm sure it will be okay," Angel shrugged, "Besides he has a crush on me." Angel smiled as she leaped to her feet and started to Twerk in an effort to disarm her friend's emotional state, "I'll just wiggle my butt and he'll agree to anything."

Belinda chuckled through her tears and emotions, "You would you slut." They both laughed at the thought. Angel hugged Belinda, "It'll all be fine you just wait and see. I got you. You and I will either fail or succeed together."

Belinda smiled, "You always know just the thing to say to get me out of my bad mood." Angel stands up and strikes a sexy pose, "Of course I'm a gorgeous bitch! Now, go get a shower we are going out tonight." "Pinto's Lounge?" Belinda asked with a smile.

"Now go wash the stink off and let's go," Angel motioned for Belinda to shoo away. Belinda practically skipped out of the living room and made her way to her room to find clothes and get a shower. "Hey, I think the bartender's nephew will be there tonight with his band," Angel spoke loud enough for her roommate to hear in her room.

Belinda slipped down the hallway clothes in hand and entered the bathroom to shower and prepare for the night's fun to come. As she stood in the shower with the steamy hot water caressing her athletic frame Belinda heard Angel enter her room and then walk to the living room, "I'll be out in a few."

"Okay," Angel's voice echoed down the barren wood floored hallway. Belinda got out of the shower and toweled off. She paused hearing the doorbell ring, "Could you get that, Angel." Angels voice responded through the cheap apartment bathroom door, "Yeah, but hurry up before I change my mind about going out." Belinda thought to herself, "You had better not I just washed my hair."

Twenty minutes passed, Belinda finally emerged from the bathroom surrounded followed by a steamy mist. Belinda gaged as she saw a lite haze wafting through the apartment followed by the pungent odor of incense, "Good god, Angel, What's that horrible stink?"

"Um, Belinda, could you please come to the front room,"Angel's voice called out. "Sure, who was at the door?" Belinda called out as she transverse the hallway to the front room. Belinda adjusted the belt of her dress as she entered the living room, "Does this look okay?"

Belinda paused her entry to the living room as an expression of fear slowly filled her face, "What the?" She looked into the incense smoke-filled room filled with a people in long darkened robes. Angel was bound by rope and sitting in the center of a ring of black candles on top of a quickly spray-painted pentagram.

"Belinda, is there something you need to tell me?" Angel asked. "I thought you said the site was fake?" Belinda blurted out. A single robed figure stepped forward and pulled a long-serrated bowie style camp knife from out of his sleeve, "You ignored our calls about the bounced check. Consider this our collection policy."

The robed figure ran its gloved fingers through Angel's hair and grabbed a handful by the root and bent her head backward exposing her neck.  "No, please!" Angel and Belinda yelled out. "I life take for a life owed," the robed figure slid the knife between Angel's clavicle and neck allowing a fount like eruption of crimson to bellow out of the wound.

The bright crimson sprayed onto Belinda in rhythm to Angel's pounding heartbeat. Belinda stood frozen as she watched her roommate's life drain away. Angels eyes slowly glazed over, and her body collapsed to the floor following the last winding droplets of blood oozing from her wide-open wound.

Belinda stood motionless unable to find her voice. The robed figure stepped across the slowly growing pool of her roommate's essence. The pungent metallic smell of blood mixed with the odor of the incense. The robed figure stopped in front of Belinda as her eyes widened.

The blonde girl stopped her story as the young man across from her chuckled, "Well, that's the way I heard the story." Dan stood up from his booth and walked out of the diner followed by the Blonde. Outside Dan stopped and turned to face Daphne, "Who told you that's how it happened?"

Daphne shrugged, "I think it was Gale. Why?" Dan opened the trunk of his car. Daphne look in with surprise and horror, "What the?" Dane smiled as he looked down at the very much still alive Belinda bound in his trunk next to his dark robe and bloody knife, "we saved Belinda for later."

Daphne turned to run, but Dan's reflexes proved faster. She tried to call out for help but found no voice. Dan had her by the throat then forcefully bounced her head against the trunk edge and dumped her body into the trunk. I could do nothing but watch and witness Dan slowly and methodically drive away. 

The Tale of Thomas

The Tale of Thomas

By: Roger Alderman

Even the smallest towns hold their share of creepy legends. The residents of Port Saint John Florida prefer to keep their stories to themselves, but they love to share their urban legends over a meal. I stopped in one morning at the Diner and overheard this next story shared between two fishermen as they ate their breakfast at a nearby booth.

Three figures struggle behind a roadside motel next to an overflowing dumpster. "Hold him Down!" yelled one man to another identical man as he took careful aim with the aged meat cleaver. "Got him just hurry up damn it," responded the twin while he struggled to restrain a third identical man gaging on a sock in his mouth.

The restrained man was exhausted from his continued struggles against his identical twins. The beating he had received from his twins had left him broken and at a loss for what had happened to him that day. "How did a man with no siblings end up being restrained and awaiting a death blow from his identical twins?" he questioned his own sanity.

Thomas thought back to the night before. His friend Ronny could always talk him into the dumbest things. Like night fishing on the nature preserve side of the Indian River closest to NASA. When they arrived at the spot Ronny had discovered it was agreed that it was perfect.

One fisherman cut the other off, "I know Ronny he just looks for spots to get drunk. He's not a real fisher. Side, the way I heard it, Thomas got out of the boat to take a piss on the shore and found a fifty-five-gallon drum leaking some kind of ooze into the river."

The other fisherman in the booth pointed a thick finger at the one who had interrupted him, "Yeah and like I was saying, Thomas, saw the drum and waded back to the boat and woke up that drunk."

I chuckled as I ordered the breakfast special the Diner was filled with all manners of breakfast deliciousness. They must have heard my chuckle as one of the men glared at me from under the rim of his camouflage baseball hat. I completed my order to the waitress and sipped at my coffee. They soon returned to their story and I am a nosey person I listened intently as my eyes darted around.

So, the tale continued, the friends left the river and returned to their homes. Ronny dropped Thomas off and sped away. Ronny always refused Thomas's sober request to stay the night and sleep it off. Thomas was okay with it that night as his wife was having a rough time at work and had been in a foul mood.

Thomas quietly showered, changed clothes, and slipped into bed. His wife rolled over and hugged him then quickly returned to sleep. Thomas exhaled in relief and fell fast asleep.

The next morning, Thomas's wife woke him before she left for work, "Thomas I'm heading out enjoy your day. I left the calamine lotion out for you." Thomas looked at her and asked, "Why?" Thomas was unconsciously scratching his left thigh. She smirked, "Really? You have been itching all night. You have scratched a raw patch on your side. Anyways I'll see you tonight. Gotta run."

Thomas slowly emerged from beneath the comforter and entered the bathroom to examine his side. He was shocked when he first tried to raise his shirt the oozing wounds beneath his shirt has seeped through his shirt and scabbed over the shirt. He knew it was going to hurt and slowly raised his shirt to expose his right hip and side which was covered in a blistering rash with weeping wounds all over that he created in his sleep.

Thomas gaged as the smell of rot left the open wounds and filled his nostrils, "What the hell?" He hopped back into the shower and scrubbed the blisters thinking if he could simply get whatever was causing this reaction out of his system he would feel better. Suddenly what sounded like stalks of celery breaking erupted from his right side.

His face twisted with terror as a sharp pain tore through his body bringing him to his knees on the bathroom floor. Blood burst from every wound coating the bathroom floor in a thick sticky crimson. Thomas clutched at his side with both hands and felt the raw nerves sitting atop the exposed muscles of his lower torso as the skin had fallen away.

Thomas screamed for help, but no one could hear him. Living in an underdeveloped and unincorporated area like Port Saint John has the benefits of wide open space and the drawback of no nearby neighbors to hear you scream. Then the sounds of popping followed by Thomas feeling his ribs and tissues moving without his control.

Thomas gasped as his ribs seemed to separate themselves from his torso and fill his hands. Then at the peak of the pain and pressure, everything suddenly became numb. Thomas clenched his hand around what he believed to be ribs and pulled. The only sensation was the sickening tugging as he pulled his hand from his side and up into sight.

What seemed to be ribs in his hands suddenly bent around his hands revealing themselves to in fact be a set of hands identical to his own. Thomas watched shaken to his core as his torso separated along the breastbone into two identical halves. He lay on the floor shaking as intestines and internal organs separated and slithered into each half.

Thomas tried to pull himself to the bathroom doorknob but lacked the strength. He spun around to look at the other half of his torso sitting opposite him on the soaked floor. How am I still alive? What is happening to me? The thoughts raced through his mind and occupied his every thought.

Thomas's attention was drawn back to the other torso as a head began to form from the stump. He witnessed bones form followed by muscle and flesh. Until it opened its eyes and glared at him offered a ghoulish grin. The other Thomas's body was taking shape after eruptions of flesh and bone began to fill in the areas missing parts. 

Thomas became aware that his body was repairing itself just like the other Thomas was. He found himself able to breathe again and took in a great breath. His chest expanded, and he was suddenly flooded with the same sensations that caused this nightmare to begin. A fully formed arm burst out of his left-hand side. The nightmare repeated itself as Thomas slipped into shock and blacked out.

The waitress returned and filled the coffee cups of the fishermen. I asked the waitress if I could get my meal to go as I was finding myself not feeling up to eating at the graphic tale shared nearby filled my imagination. Sometimes it sucks to be a guy with a vivid imagination. The waitress returned to her station to prepare my check and to go box.

One of the fishermen cleared his throat and finished his coffee. He then continued with the "Tale of Thomas." I was hooked and needed to hear the full grisly story to its end. Sure, it was graphic, but he told the story with such conviction I was hooked. All he had to do was reel me in as he had already set my hook.

"Wake him up," Thomas slowly opened his eyes after being alone in the great black void of nothingness. His head was spinning, and he was assaulted by the sounds of a busy highway racing by outside. His vision came into focus revealing to him that he was bound and gagged in the back of his own car.

The passenger turned to glare at Thomas, "he's awake. This is gonna be fun just like gutting a fish." Both the driver and his twin sitting in the passenger seat laughed at the thought. Thomas struggled against his bindings to no avail.

The passenger pointed at their destination, "There it is just like I told you. It's been empty for years. Follow the road and it'll take us right up to it." The driver nodded in understanding. Thomas felt the car turn hard to the right as the car left US1 and into the driveway of the abandoned motel.

The car stopped suddenly, and Thomas was thrown forward behind the front seats. The driver and passenger exited the car. They quickly opened the back doors and drug Thomas out onto the gravel road. The binding around his legs had come free.

Thomas decided it was time to get away and kicked the passenger in the groin. The twin fell to the ground on his side holding what was left of his assaulted groin screaming out in pain, "FUCK!"

Thomas rounded the edge of the motel when the driver dove into his legs. He pulled Thomas down to the ground struggling to regain control. The passenger made his way to the struggle and produced a meat cleaver. Thomas recognized the clever as the one he and his wife received from his mother in law for last Christmas.

Thomas could not help but think, "I knew that old bitch would kill me one day. He looked up and spotted a homeless man on his three-wheeled bike watching the commotion in fear.

The Fishing men stood up from their meal and walked out the door into the building rain. I could not help myself I had to know what happened to Thomas. I pushed a twenty-dollar bill into the waitress's hand, grabbed my meal, and rushed out behind the men. "I have to know what happened to Thomas," I yelled out to the men.

I watched in terror as the men removed their hats, "What the fuck!" I was standing before two identical men in dressed in rain slickers, jeans, and boots. The men glared at one another and stepped forward menacingly as they each pulled long thin knives.