monster haven 06.5 - transmonstrified Read online

  The card gave us the number and address of William Decker, Investment Broker, Macon, Georgia.

  “Oh my God,” I said slowly. “Gloria, where do you live?” I was beginning to piece it together, and I didn’t like it.

  Gloria smiled. “We live in Cloudcroft, New Mexico, dear. It really is beautiful. You should come up for a visit sometime.”

  Danny and I exchanged glances. “Ted?” he asked.

  “Portland, Oregon,” he said. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

  “How?” I asked. My mouth was dry. I took a sip of coffee.

  Ted leaned back in his chair and made himself comfortable. “Well,” he said. “The nearest we can tell is this guy sold us all a basement-sized pocket universe. It seems to be keyed specifically to whoever signed the paperwork for the house. We don’t know how he does it.”

  “I think it’s the pen,” George said, lighting his pipe and eyeing us closely. “Do you remember signing with a heavy, silver pen with a slider on the side?”

  We nodded.

  George gave Ted a satisfied nod. “Told you,” he said, drawing on the stem and puffing thick smoke into the air. “I always thought it was the pen. Probably something to do with our electro-magnetic-whatsits.”

  “I still don’t understand how it got in our house,” Danny said.

  “Oh, that’s the easy part,” Ted said. “It’s the only thing we know for sure. Ever notice how the doorknob to the basement doesn’t match the rest of the knobs in the house? I changed mine out once. Without that doorknob, I lose the basement and gain a bathroom.”

  “So, now what do we do?” I asked.

  Gloria rose to collect the empty plates. “Nothing to be done, dear. We can’t call anyone to complain. They wouldn’t believe us. And there’s no one to sue. He changes his name and keeps moving. So, we make do and share the basement.”

  I considered the faces in the room. Everyone seemed honest and friendly and he did give us a good deal on the house. She was right. What could we possibly do?

  “So,” Ted said. “A few rules we like to follow to make this easy on all of us. Don’t leave your door open. It locks us all out. Keep your belongings in your designated area and don’t leave a mess. Hands off other people’s stuff. Really, that’s common courtesy and shouldn’t even be brought up.”

  “Always turn the light off when you leave, dear.” Gloria said. “That way, if you come in and the light is on, you know someone’s already down here. I’ve had a fright more than once, so it just makes good sense.”

  “One last thing,” Ted said, handing us a sheet of paper. “These are our phone numbers and addresses, in case of emergency. You can add yours when you’re comfortable with us, but we like to keep in touch outside the basement. I found Bill huddled in here once during a tornado and brought him out through our door. He stayed with us in Portland till the weather cleared in Macon. We’ve found ways to use all this to our advantage, and you will too. Sleep on it. It’s actually a pretty good deal.”

  ~*~

  Over the years, I’ve grown pretty close with Grace, who turned out to be a chatterbox when her husband wasn’t around. We’ve watched their two boys grow and they call us Aunt Jen and Uncle Danny. Gloria passed away last year, and we were all devastated. We’ve tried our best to keep George from clanking around in that huge house by himself, bringing him casseroles and having him up for dinner or to watch movies. He probably won’t stay there much longer, but he promised to take the doorknob with him if he leaves. Bill fixed us up with a strong stock portfolio, and our money is looking pretty good. He’s pushy, but he’s good at what he does.

  Yesterday I tried to go downstairs, but the door was locked all day. This morning, I found a pile of boxes in a previously empty spot along the wall. With Gloria gone, I guess I’ll have to be the new greeter. My pie isn’t nearly as good as hers, in spite of all the time she spent trying to teach me.

  I hope the new tenants live somewhere warm. I wouldn’t mind a vacation in Florida.

  “Escalating Heaven”

  Another flash fiction piece for the Confabulator Cafe, this one had a challenge attached. I had to use “I think I got everyone” as the first line and “This is better than anything” as the last. Everything in between is mine.

  “I think I got everyone, George. Shut her down.”

  “Got it, Frank.”

  Edna held her breath and clutched her newly issued, regulation white robe, halo, and harp. The flimsy fabric of the robe crinkled under her grip. She pressed herself against the marble pillar and listened to Heaven’s escalator rumble to a halt. The footsteps of the two men receded, and the lights dimmed.

  She let out a lungful of air and peered around the column. Empty. Edna dumped her uniform on the floor and stepped on it for good measure.

  “Eighty three years,” she said, poking the bent halo with her toe. “Eighty three years of hymns, prayer, good deeds, and faithful service to the church.”

  She ran her hands over her flat belly and smooth hips, reveling in her young body. She’d forgotten what it was like not to wince in pain with each step. She grinned and tapped her strong teeth with a finger of her now age-spotless hand. All there. Just like the good old days.

  Edna stepped out into the atrium and adjusted her hospital gown. It didn’t fit well. It had been put on her when she was alive, as a frail, bony old woman with sagging breasts. Now it was tight across her perky bosom and full hips. She had a vague memory of what it was like to have a young, healthy body. She hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time, nor had she done much with it, except plant flowers outside the church or make cupcakes for the church bake sale. She’d never dated or married. There was too much work to be done. Too many poor to help.

  Before her, a pair of silent escalators stretched into the distance. Waist-high gates of gold and pearl blocked off the unmoving steps up. Near the top, golden light broke through fluffy clouds. Edna heard the faint notes of harp music, and she made a face.

  The down escalator was blocked by soot-covered gates carved with screaming faces and monstrous creatures. Even several feet from the entrance she felt waves of heat and heard distant screams. Edna backed away.

  These were her choices? Fire and torture or an eternity as dull and endless as the life she’d already endured?

  When Edna had crossed over, she’d been relieved to throw off the mortal coil and take her eternal reward. She’d worked hard for it. The Judgment Hall was filled with milling, confused people, but Edna had been ready. Her whole life had been devoted to this moment. In fact, her good works and dedication to God had earned her a Judgment Fast Pass, sending her to the front of the long line. St. Peter smiled and welcomed her, stamped her paperwork with a big smiley face, and sent her off to wardrobe and orientation.

  That’s where it all went wrong.

  Her younger body was restored, and they issued her the formless robe and accessories of her new station. She was a disappointed, having expected something a little less cliché, maybe a little more stylish. But a harp? Everyone had one, too. She couldn’t imagine a life spent doing nothing but playing a harp with a million other smiling, empty faces.

  In orientation they assigned her a cloud number and a chord. A single chord. She wouldn’t even be playing songs. Everyone played their small part in the Celestial Harp Orchestra. It was better that way, they explained. Everyone was a piece of the whole, and everyone worked together to glorify God. There was no pride in Heaven.

  So, that was it. She’d given her whole life to earn more of the same, only it was even less interesting and even more selfless.

  After orientation, a bell had rung and a panel in the wall opened, leading out to the escalators. Heaven’s gates were open wide, the steps rolling up to the sky. Hell’s gates were still closed. When asked, the orientation instructor had waved a dismissive hand at it and explained that other groups would be going down later in the day.

  Edna didn’t want to go to Hell, but Heaven now h
eld a nearly equal amount of dread for her. It was then that she slipped from the crowd of Paradise-bound travelers and hid behind the marble pillar at the back of the room. What would it hurt to delay a little?

  Edna crossed her arms over her firm bosom and stared at the two sets of closed gates. A particularly noxious wave of sulfur blew up from hell, making her stomach lurch. She sighed. There really was no choice. She was being obstinate and prideful. With reluctance, she moved toward the gates to Heaven, preparing herself for the long walk up.

  A bell rang and a section of wall opened, spilling out hundreds of people.

  “All right, people, everyone follow me in an orderly manner.” A man in a grey suit waved his arms to direct the crowd, his voice booming directions.

  Edna stepped behind the pillar.

  “You, too, sweetheart.” Another man in a grey suit grabbed her arm and pulled her into the crowd. “Don’t lag behind.”

  Dismayed, Edna shuffled along with the crowd and out a door behind the escalators. Her last glimpse of the atrium was a sign above her doorway: Welcome to Purgatory.

  The door closed and disappeared behind them. The crowd dissipated around her, and Edna stood alone on an unfamiliar city street.

  A good-looking man stood on the sidewalk near her. He nodded and smiled. “You look lost, doll.”

  Edna nodded. “A little, yes.”

  The man tilted his head toward the bar behind him. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Certainly not. What kind of a woman…” Edna stopped. What could it hurt? “Yes, I believe you can. Thank you.”

  Inside, Edna took a sip of her first alcoholic drink ever, while a strange man eyed her legs with a hungry look.

  She licked her lips. “This is better than anything.”

  “Cursed by Beauty”

  Lovely, lithe, exquisite.

  No other so fair.

  Greedy, they reached,

  grasping to possess.

  My only escape,

  a loveless marriage.

  His child danced

  before my stricken eyes

  trailing curls of night.

  Her face, palest ivory,

  lips a scarlet rose.

  I beheld her winsome form

  with astonished grief.

  Her curse exceeded even mine.

  Hands raw and calloused,

  weary with scrubbing and fetching.

  Still, her curse grew.

  I failed.

  Only death could break the spell.

  I would keep her heart

  cherished and safe

  in a walnut box carved of sorrow.

  I confused lust for loyalty.

  A gentle lie, meant to appease.

  Her mewling cries

  captured his soul.

  Knife twisting in his grasp,

  she slipped away in darkness

  Poisoned comb, corset laces,

  shining, juicy apple,

  my final effort to keep her safe.

  I hold aloft my tools of mercy

  cackling to the thunderous sky.

  The winds accept the sacrifice.

  My own curse is blown away.

  “What Zoey Doesn’t Know”

  A Monster Haven Short Story

  This was the first Monster Haven piece I wrote from a point of view other than Zoey’s. It seemed fitting that, given his popularity, Maurice should get a shot at talking to us. This peek into a day in the life of a closet monster takes place between book three, Fairies in My Fireplace, and book four, Golem in My Glovebox. It was previously published as a single in 2014.

  The mummy barely waited for Zoey’s car to disappear down the driveway before he knocked on the back door. I knew it was him. My monster ears are pretty sharp—probably because of their size. I’m proud of them, even if they do make it hard to wear a hat.

  Hats are cool.

  The mummy’s bandaged feet shuffled up the steps. His gauzed-over knuckles thumped rather than knocked. I opened the door to find Akhenaten waiting, hands tucked into his armpits and head lowered.

  “Dude,” I said. “I just re-bandaged you yesterday.”

  Akhenaten moaned. He did that a lot before speaking. Drove me nuts. “I didn’t know she was making spaghetti for dinner.”

  Sure enough. The gauze around his lips had a reddish stain to it, and tiny red flecks covered his chest and chin. It sort of looked like blood, so I was surprised he was worried about it. It added a startling effect.

  I ran my hand over my head and took a deep breath to keep from getting angry. “I’ve got a lot going on today. I’ll redo your head, but that’s it, okay?”

  He nodded. “Thanks.” He drew the ‘s’ out extra long, and I considered flicking him in the ear. I didn’t. But I thought about it.

  “Sit, sit, sit.” I pulled out a kitchen chair for him, but didn’t offer a drink like I usually did. The game was getting old.

  While Akhenaten got himself settled, I ran down the hall and grabbed the bag of gauze from the back of the linen closet. Zoey found it once when she was digging in there for nail polish, but she didn’t ask why we had so much of it.

  Thank the gods, because she’d kill me if she knew about this.

  After I located the end of the gauze from where I’d tucked it in his collar the day before, I unwrapped the bandages from his head to his neck. His blond hair was sweaty from confinement, and his skin was pale from lack of sun.

  The guy’s real name was Gavin, and why his wife put up with this behavior was beyond me. Humans are weird. I went along with it mostly so he’d leave Zoey alone. She had enough going on without playing counselor to a delusional whackjob who’d accidentally stumbled on the Hidden world and wanted to be part of it.

  Zoey wouldn’t have humored him. She’d have tried to ‘fix’ him. My way was easier. He wanted to play dress up and role-play the whole monster thing, more power to him. Not my business. He paid me in peaches or the occasional bag of walnuts from the trees in his backyard. Fair deal, I guess, since Zoey hated when I took stuff from the neighbors’ yards without their knowledge.

  Once Gavin was rewrapped, I patted him on the shoulder. “Okay, buddy. You’re good to go. Try to keep it clean a little longer this time. I’m running low on supplies.”

  He groaned, long and low. “Thanksss.”

  “No problem. Make sure nobody sees you. It’s broad daylight. Do you want a hat or something?”

  He refused the hat and stumbled out the back door, his legs stiff and awkward, groaning and holding his arms out in front of him. I wasn’t too worried about people seeing him. The magic bubble surrounding our backyard made everyone and everything inside invisible to people outside the bubble. Gavin only had to go through four yards to get to his own house. As long as he was careful, nobody would see him now that most people were at work.

  If he were actually part of the Hidden community, I’d be more concerned. But what was the worst that could happen? Felicia from two doors over might look out her window and see a mummy dragging himself through the trees. If she believed it was a real mummy, she probably wouldn’t tell anybody, for fear of being called crazy. If she thought it was a crazy person in a mummy outfit, she might call the cops. Worst-case scenario, Gavin’s little fetish would get exposed and he’d be outed as a human.

  Not my problem.

  Once I was sure he was gone, I grabbed my navy hoodie and zipped myself into the appearance of a passable human. Snagging my eco-friendly, reusable shopping bag, I went out in the opposite direction to make my morning rounds of the neighborhood gardens.

  Zoey’s told me more than once not to do this. Sure. Her reasons were sound, and I totally respected them. If people saw me picking their produce, they’d show up with pitchforks and torches demanding we hand over their purloined eggplants and radishes. That was why Zoey didn’t know about it. Also, it was why I’d never tell her that her favorite pumpkin cheesecake was made from the Deckers’ prize-winnin
g pumpkins and eggs from the Hawthornes’ chicken coop.

  Usually, I made my rounds earlier in the morning, but Zoey had overslept and Gavin had shown up, so I was behind. It meant I had to be faster and stealthier than usual. Speed wasn’t a big deal—closet monsters can move faster than the human eye can follow—but choosing which fruits and vegetables are ripe and how many won’t be missed required more than faster-than-the-eye thought. Most people don’t understand that super-speed doesn’t necessarily equate to super-thought.

  Zipping to and from each garden was great, but I had to stop to examine things. And that’s when things got dangerous.

  Most of the neighbors in the area had regular nine-to-five jobs. At my first stop, a quick peek out front to see that Sandra’s car wasn’t in the driveway told me she was gone. I popped around the side to trim a little rosemary and mint from her herb garden, then strolled to the back to check her tomatoes.

  “Psst. Get down!”

  A hand grabbed my sleeve and tugged. I dropped to the ground, alert. “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s home, you nitwit. Didn’t you check inside? Her car’s in the shop.”

  Startled by the tone, I stopped scanning the area and looked at the guy squatting next to me. I groaned. “Silas, what are you doing here?”

  Silas the pooka was bad news. He was the embodiment of bad luck and took great pleasure in causing trouble for the people around him. Sitting next to him meant the very real possibility of an anvil falling on my head while I slipped on a banana peel dropped by a passing black cat.

  The dude was seriously dangerous.

  Silas rocked back onto his heels and shoved a hairy finger up his nose. “I came to see Zoey. It’s been awhile.” He inspected the goop on the end of his finger and wiped it on Sandra’s grass.

  The first time Silas had shown up, I’d been away. Zoey’d had to put up with him, and he’d trashed the house. He was gone by the time I got back, but I’d dealt with the mess. Since then, he’d visited twice—always at mealtimes. The bad-luck thing he had going wasn’t nearly as disruptive as the slob factor.