Short and Creepy: Ten Weird Tales: Short and Creepy, #1

SHORT and CREEPY

Ten Weird Tales

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by J.M. PEDRI

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual people, living or dead, or to actual events or locales are purely coincidental.

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Copyright 2017, J.M. Pedri. All right reserved.

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This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only, and is not to be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

1. The Mirage

2. Brother Dearest

3. The Art of Darkness

4. One Man’s Trash

5. Truth and Justice

6. Implement of Destruction

7. The Hurricane Party

8. Don’t Mess With Old Ladies

9. With This Ring

10. Construed Awakening

Author’s Note

1

The Mirage

October 1985

Bradley eased his bedroom window open and crawled out onto the roof. If his mother heard him he'd be in trouble again, but he couldn't think about that now. These first few moments, when he had to edge around the gabled dormer to the relative safety of the shingles that topped it, were the most treacherous. That is, unless you counted getting back in the window, but he wasn't thinking about that either. He concentrated on placing his worn tennis shoes at just the right angle to get the most traction as he steadily made his way upward.

Once atop the dormer roof, he anchored his feet on its peak, scooted his backside farther up the main peak of the house, and smiled. This was his favorite place in the world, and the blistering summer heat had kept him away from it for far too long. In another couple of months the winter snows would do the same, but that didn't matter now. His heart soared with the rushing sense of excitement that only came from being up high.

Bradley had always loved that feeling. His mom often told people how she'd always had to get him down from odd places when he was a toddler—the counters, the tops of tables, the roof of the car. When he was five his father built him a tree house, which Bradley liked so much he stopped climbing on other things. But the year he turned eight they moved into a two-story home, and tree houses no longer interested him. He'd discovered that sitting on the roof gave him the best feeling ever.

It was warmer than he'd anticipated, in spite of the thick cloud cover, so he unzipped his sweatshirt and pushed its red sleeves high up on his arms. Movement on the sidewalk across the street caught his attention, and he laughed when he saw old Mrs. Weatherby walking her dog.

Pepper, her miniature Poodle, looked more like a rat from this height, and the thought of someone walking a rat was just too funny. Farther up the street, his friend Johnny was playing basketball with his little brother. Bradley hoped they'd get their kites out later, because it was always neat to see them flying from this angle.

He watched the ongoing activities of the neighborhood for quite some time, until he heard the ice cream truck. It was still a few blocks away, judging by the low volume of the tinkling music, and he debated whether it would be worth climbing down to get a Rocket Pop. Yes, he decided, it would. Rocket Pops were almost as good as being on a roof, and eating a Rocket Pop on the roof would be perfect.

He was almost to his open window when he noticed there were men on the roofs of two houses the next block over. Well, there were men on one of them, but only one man on the other. Bradley didn't know why he hadn't seen them before, but since the houses on that street had a lot of little roof peaks set at varying positions, he thought maybe they'd been on the other side. But what were they doing up there?

The lone man walked along the edge of the roof for a few steps before turning to look behind him. When he turned back to face Bradley's direction, it seemed as if he was staring right at him. After a moment, Bradley gave him a tentative wave, and then gasped as the man fell against the roof and slid over the side. Momentarily forgetting where he was, Bradley leapt to his feet to see if the man was alright, and almost fell himself. His arms pinwheeled as he fought for balance. Sitting down hard, he skidded down toward the gutter while his feet fought for purchase on the gritty shingles. Finally, just inches from the edge, he ground to a halt.

Heart pounding, Bradley sat frozen for several minutes and fought a wave of dizziness. He'd never been afraid of heights before, but the combination of seeing the man fall, and his own near miss, had really shaken him. He stared out at the barriers of houses and greenery that blocked his view of the ground on the next street. Was the man ok too? Maybe he'd grabbed a tree branch or landed on something soft. Bradley had to know.

Ignoring the stinging in his scraped hands, he made his way back to his window and raced through the house.

What on earth are you doing, thundering down the stairs like that? his mother yelled as he passed her.

Ice cream truck, he muttered, tearing through the front door.

Well watch for traffic!

He jumped on his bike and pedaled hard. When he came to the right house, he dropped the bike on the sidewalk and ran around to the side where he thought the man would be. There was nothing but some low bushes, a stone path, and an ornate metal fence that separated it all from the neighbor's yard. No blood. Not a single bush or blade of grass crushed.

He walked all the way around the house, twice, checking for any sign that someone had fallen, but didn’t find anything. Halfway through his third lap around, a sharp voice rang out.

Hey kid, what are you doing down there?

Bradley craned his neck to see a man with a hammer glaring down at him from the roof next door.

Hey Mister, where's the guy who was on this roof? he pointed to the house behind him.

Ain't nobody been on that roof.

But I thought... Bradley trailed off, confused. He turned to look in the direction of his own house. Though couldn't see much of it from this angle, a section of its unique chocolate brown shingles were clearly visible.

He crossed the street toward home and turned to face the house where the men were working, comparing it to the ones on either side. Nope, he hadn't been searching in the wrong yard—it was the one to the left of where the men were, the only house that had the little round window up top.

A cloud shifted, and the glare of sunlight reflected off the upper windows. Bradley squinted as a new thought came to him. A mirage, that was it! His teacher had told them about how mirages could make people see all sorts of things that weren't really there. She hadn't said anything about mirages appearing anywhere but in a desert, but Bradley was sure it was possible.

With that settled, his attention wandered to the workmen. He crossed the street once more and stood in the front yard, waiting for one of them to notice him. It wasn't long before the same man he'd talked to stopped to glare at him again.

What are you doing up there? Bradley asked.

Roofing.

Roofing? What's that?

You think Santa Claus puts new shingles on these places when they go bad? Nope, that's us. We bring 'em up and hammer 'em down, all day long.

Wow, Bradley said, awed by the thought of having permission to be on a roof for the whole day. So it's your job? Like you get paid for it?

Well we sure don't do it for free. Go play somewhere else now. It ain't safe here. To illustrate his point, the man tossed a handful of old shingles over the roof's edge, where they landed with a heavy slap on the tarp just a few feet away from Bradley's toes.

Bradley stood his ground. Can I do roofing?

The man guffawed. How old are you?

Ten.

Well you gotta be older than that. Give it ten more years or so, and grow some muscles. Then you might be able to handle it.

Ok, Bradley grinned, thanks. He ran to his bike and pedaled toward home, hoping his mom would take him to the library. He needed to look up how to grow muscles, because he was determined to do roofing when he grew up. It was a good thing he saw that mirage, or he might not have ever found out about the best job ever.

October, 2005

Brad adjusted the bundle of shingles on his shoulder and stepped up onto the roof. He set the heavy package down before turning to grin at his partner, Gil, who was making his way up the ladder behind him.

Come on, slowpoke, I want to get this one done today, Brad yelled in mock sternness.

Are you kidding? Gil huffed, passing his own load of shingles to Brad, this place is going to take a week.

Probably, Brad agreed. Especially since the guys are late again.

That's what you get for hiring a green crew. It takes them a while to get up the nerve to tackle a place like this, with all its crazy angles and steep pitches.

Eh, they'll get used to it, Brad said, thinking about his younger employees. He wandered along the roof's edge, waiting for their truck to appear. They just need some more experience. Wait until we do the Martin house. That'll break them in right. We'll need scaffolds and harnesses to handle its peaks. He turned to smile at Gil again, thrilled at the prospect of taking on such a job.

The Martin house? Gil frowned. Wait, I forgot you grew up somewhere around here. You probably know everyone on the street.

Not really. We had about four different houses before my parents settled on their apartment, but for a few years we lived... Brad turned back to motion in the right direction, then stopped and stared in shock. He hadn't realized that they were so close to one of his childhood homes, but it wasn't the sight of its unique chocolate brown shingles that made his breath catch in his throat. It was the little boy in the red sweatshirt who was sitting close to one of its dormer windows that did it. An open window that Brad knew led into his old bedroom.

Something wrong? Gil asked.

Brad had the sensation something was very wrong, but he wasn't sure what. Do you see that kid over there?

Yeah, so? I wouldn't let my kid on a roof alone, but it looks like he's doing alright.

Brad's mind churned up memories that had long been forgotten. Fear gripped him when he calculated his angle and distance from the boy, and each similarity between past and present locked into place. The tinny music from an ice cream truck reached his ears as the child raised his arm to wave. Stunned, Brad took an unconscious step forward and felt a loose shingle give way beneath his foot. He fell hard, and slid off the edge of the roof before Gil could grab him.

The last thing he saw was an ornate metal fence rushing toward his chest.

2

Brother Dearest

The kiss was slow and deep. It was the kind of kiss that lovers shared, and it made Eddie's heart boil with rage. His fists clenched as he watched Savannah lead his brother, Thomas, out of the circle of campfire light.

Everyone else stared at Scooter Williams, whose tale of a half-human beast had them oblivious to their surroundings. Only Beth, the scrawny girl who'd had a crush on him all year, noticed Eddie's reaction. Her eyes darted from him to the dark woods, and back again, before she scooted closer. One hostile glare was all it took to send her back to the other end of the log they shared. He didn't want her sympathy, or her company. He wanted Savannah.

Burning with pent-up emotions, Eddie stood and crept around the back of the circle to the cooler. He fished an orange soda out of the bed of ice, trying not to look in the direction the two had gone. What would happen if he tore through the woods after them, screaming like a madman? His muscles twitched with the urge to do just that. He could pass it off as a joke if he did, but then again, what good would it do? In spite of the months Eddie spent showering attention on her, Savannah had made her choice tonight. Thomas. It was always Thomas.

Thomas had been born with a personality that drew