Dracula’s Castle
Jim Nemeth’s Journal
31 Oct. Transylvania—
The carriage dropped me at the castle at midnight. Dracula, clean shaven save for a long white mustache and clad completely in black, opened the door, bid me to enter freely and gave me a tour.
Afterward, I presented my report. “Count, as your Airbnb rep, I have to be honest: the broken battlements, the cobwebs, remote location, lack of servants, the wolves…”
Dracula looked crestfallen.
“Count, I think we have a real WINNER here!” I said.
The Count beamed. He approached as if to hug me, but instead bit me in the neck.
Hotep – Seth
The archeologist’s face turned to uncomprehending horror as he tried to stop the advance of Hotep-Seth, guardian mummy of the tomb, by thrusting and waving the blazing torch. Hotep-Seth would have laughed if he could as he lifted the defiler by the neck and repeatedly slammed his head against the stone wall.
Hotep-Seth reached down and picked up the still blazing object that had for centuries been his greatest undoing. So many fiery deaths followed by phoenix-like resurrections. But no more. He gazed at his body, admiring the tomb priests’ work in rewrapping his form in fire-retardant gauze.
Nothing Under the Bed
Mrs. Grimes grunted as she stood erect from kneeling beside little Johnny’s bed.
“There’s nothing there, Johnny. No clawed and fanged hairy monster. Nothing. Now go to bed!”
“But mom,” Johnny started to blubber.
“No, Johnny! I’ve had it! Night after night screaming the house down! Now, come here. I want you to look.”
“Mom, no!” Johnny pleaded, tears running down his face.
“Do it, Johnny. Now. Or else.”
Tears still streaming, Johnny kneeled down. His eyes refused to open.
“Open your eyes!” Johnny’s mother bellowed.
Johnny did and whimpered as the clawed and fanged hairy monster winked at him.