Trio of Haunting Tales by Lynn Kelley
Trio of Haunting Tales
Spooky Short Stories
By Lynn Kelley
Copyrighted © 2011 by Lynn Kelley
Table of Contents
Cyclops Clyde
Night of the Howling Werewolf
Ghost Warrior
Cyclops Clyde
Call me crazy, cuckoo, a crackpot. But I know what happened, and there must be others who got nailed by Cyclops Clyde. If anyone out there has had a similar experience, please back me up here.
It was late. Actually, the middle of the night. I snuck down to the computer to play “Cyber Creeps,” a cool new game. I was rackin’ up a record-breaking score when a pop-up flashed across the screen.
Creepy chills crawled up my neck as I came face-to-face with that one-eyed monster. He was in 3D. Above his glossy red stink-eyed stare, the words “Cyclops Clyde” blinked in goober-green letters. He had a nub of a nose and a crooked snarl, which showed some of his rotten black teeth.
Under his chubby chin, spidery black letters spelled out, “CLICK ON MY EYE OR ELSE YOU DIE!”
“NO!” my mind cried out, cuz my voice was caught in my throat. Then the words changed to, “Come on, kid—CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!”
X out, I thought, but where was the X? Where the X should have been, there was only a Y and a Z.
Right-click on the Close button! Right click! Quick! My hand shook and the mouse convulsed across the pad. It wouldn’t let me right-click.
A sinister laugh erupted from Clyde’s wide-open mouth. His tonsils jiggled, and I saw right down his drain-pipe throat, all coated with scum and crud like you’d find in a garbage disposal. He inhaled sharply, coughed, and hucked hard. A slimy hairball shot up from his innards at full speed, zoomed through the screen, and slapped me right smack in the middle of my forehead.
The force of it almost knocked me out of the chair, but I was stuck as if an invisible magnet held my butt in place. Against my will, my eyes were drawn to his singular eyeball, now vibrating with evil glints and spikes around his cornea.
Again, the warning flashed—”CLICK ON MY EYE OR ELSE YOU DIE!”
Help! Help! What’s happening? Then I remembered control/alt/delete. Do it! Do it! I couldn’t move. Paralyzed!
The screen said, “Cut the crud, kid. CLICK IT! CLICK IT! CLICK ON MY EYE!”
It’s a trick, I thought. Don’t do it.
Clyde’s eye squinted, cold and narrow.
He means business!
Before I finished my thought, hot rays blasted from his eye and burned my skin with needle-sharp zaps.
I was about to explode, so I slowly moved the cursor to the cyclops’ eye, but I couldn’t bring myself to click on it.
“CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!” A giant number 3 appeared on the screen. My heart clenched. The word “QUICK!” flashed. Then a number 2 flickered, big and bold.
Oh no, he’s counting down! I gasped for a breath as my throat closed up. My skin burned so bad, it felt like it was bubbling with blisters, but I refused to click on his eye.
Next, a huge number 1 appeared. Zirwitz! Everything faded from my sight. Blackness. Am I dead?
“CLICK ON MY EYE, DIMWIT!” the speakers boomed.
I was so weak, it took every bit of will power to click on the mouse with my pointer finger, but I finally did it.
Thirwip Zritz! My head spun like a pinwheel in a hurricane. I wanted to barf.
Zip! The lights flicked on. I could see again!
The screen blinked “Fatal error! System shutting down.”
Good riddance, Cyclops Clyde.
As soon as I thought it, there he was again, laughing hysterically. “GOTCHA!”
The computer turned off. I jumped out of the chair, ran to the bathroom and upchucked my dinner. What a waste of beans and franks. I splashed cool water on my face, then looked in the mirror. My skin looked normal. No burns. No blisters.
In the middle of my forehead was the faint imprint of an eye. Looked just like Clyde’s. It throbbed. I barely touched it. Zritz! An electric shock! I flew back and hit the towel rack.
A telepathic thought shot through my brain: I’ll be watching you, kid.
Forever!
* * *
Night of the Howling Werewolf