Are you scared?
Chilling Tales for Dark Nights.
The Costume Party.
Written by Shondra Snodderly.
Narrated by Jeff Clement.
Herbert adjusted the straps on his straitjacket and mussed his hair while he waited for his
hostess to answer the door.
The woman who let him in was all done up in bandages, mummy style, but with some extra
wrapping that served as a modest skirt.
All he could see of her was her left eye, so he couldn't tell if she was pretty or not.
Probably didn't matter.
Herbert never picked up girls at parties.
They were never interested in going home with him.
But he pushed that thought away.
He was here to have a good time, so he nodded politely to the mummy girl and made his way
inside.
"Herbert, you made it!"
A giant shaggy werewolf strode up to him and caught him up in a bear hug that crackled
his back.
He would have recognized that stale nicotine smell anywhere.
"Noah, how have you been?"
Noah pulled out a fat cigar from the pocket of his torn jeans and rolled it between his
fingers.
"You know how it is.
Just trying to get by until things improve.
How's Jessica?"
"We've been divorced for six years, Noah.
You were there.
You took me drinking on the night the papers were finalized."
Noah's genial manner deflated a little.
"Oh, that's right.
Shame about her.
Jessica seemed so nice.
Do you know if she's available now?"
There was a twinge behind his eyes at that question, like a headache that hasn't quite
faded away.
Herbert rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried to ignore it.
"She left me for her personal trainer, so I doubt it."
"Hmm.
Shame," he said.
Then he put the cigar between his teeth and made for the front door.
On his way past the mummy girl, he reached out and squeezed her ass.
She responded with a hard slap to the face that made Noah drop his cigar.
Herbert smiled as he made his way over to the refreshments.
There was the usual assortment of witches and pirates and space aliens and vampires
at the party, but no other madmen.
Herbert gave himself a mental pat on the back for being so original.
He hoped there was a costume contest at this party.
Maybe he would stand a chance of winning.
One of the vampiresses sidled up to him and grabbed a handful of baby carrots that had
been made to look like fingers.
"Hey, Herbert."
It took him a moment to recognize her through the black wig and the fake fangs.
"Daphne?"
She punched him on the arm and grinned.
"You look terrible.
Still working with that jackass Noah?"
"Under him.
He got promoted last month."
"Ugh.
So glad I got out of there before that happened."
She popped a carrot finger into her mouth and chewed.
Herbert thought he could hear her jaw pop with each bite.
He contemplated the rest of the spread.
Every last bit of it had been carefully made to look like body parts.
Strangely, there wasn't a single punch bowl or keg to be seen.
It didn't seem like proper party protocol.
"So what do you do now?"
Daphne shrugged.
"I'm a caregiver now."
"A caregiver?"
Herbert snorted.
"What, for some old pervert?"
She dipped another carrot finger into a blood-red ranch sauce.
"Nope.
I look after this nice old lady who tries to tip me every time I bring her groceries
inside."
By this time, Noah had come back inside and was trying to get everyone dancing in their
host's tiny living room.
Herbert and Daphne cringed as they watched him bump into various guests and nearly topple
an expensive-looking lamp.
"Why did they invite him?"
Herbert shook his head and turned away from the scene.
The eyeball dumplings looked like they might be worth eating, so he popped one into his
mouth.
"Maybe they didn't know any better?"
"That or they just wanted to see us suffer."
At this point, there was a tremendous crash.
Herbert turned to see that Noah had fallen into a lady dressed as a flapper and they
had both gone through a coffee table.
Her date, who was dressed in a gorilla suit, picked Noah up by his collar and shook him.
Before a fight could break out properly, their hosts swept into the room, looking fabulous
as a king and queen.
The mummy girl trailed behind them with a large tray of wine glasses.
Each was filled to the brim with a clear liquid.
White wine, maybe?
Better than nothing, he supposed.
The mummy took the tray around, making sure that each guest had a glass in hand before
the king addressed the party.
"Thank you all for coming tonight.
Now, I know it's a little early for the traditional midnight toast, but what better night to break
rules than tonight?"
He raised his glass, and the guests all aped him.
"To freedom."
The queen raised her glass as well.
"The freedom to be your true self, even if it's only for one night a year."
Everyone echoed the sentiment and drained their glasses.
Whatever it was they had drunk, Herbert was pretty sure it wasn't wine.
It did go straight to his head, though, and the twinge behind his eyes exploded into blinding
pain.
All around him, he heard the thud of bodies hitting the floor.
His first thought was that the hosts had poisoned them.
Herbert was going to die on the living room of a pair of murderers.
But then the pain started to subside, and it took Herbert's fear with it.
What it left behind was anger.
He was angry at Noah for getting that promotion when it was clear that Herbert was the better
qualified one of the two.
He was angry with Daphne for getting away from the company and finding something better.
But most of all, he was angry with Jessica.
Jessica, who had used him, cheated on him, and left him.
She had taken everything from it, and she had to pay.
They all had to.
Herbert seized the nearest throat and squeezed.
All around him, there were screams of terror, of rage, of pain.
And under all of it, he could hear the voice of the king.
"After all, aren't we just animals at heart?"
*** *** ***
Herbert didn't want to open his eyes.
Judging from the pain in his head, he'd had entirely too much to drink the night before.
And too much to eat, judging by the bloat of his stomach.
But at least there was a warm body next to him.
He must have struck it lucky with a girl last night.
Maybe the mummy lady.
Herbert hoped she was pretty under all those bandages.
He wrapped his arm around the body, but drew back.
It felt like a woman, but it was all sticky.
What had they done last night?
He decided to risk opening his eyes.
The sight that greeted him made him wish he hadn't.
It wasn't the mummy girl next to him on the floor of his hosts' house.
Instead it was Daphne's blank glassy staring at him through a mask of dried blood.
Someone had torn her throat open and ripped chunks of flesh out of her arms and stomach.
Herbert raised a shaking hand to his face and felt the crust of dried blood on his cheek.
His stomach staged a hasty evacuation of its contents.
His own moan of terror was drowned out by at least three others as the survivors of
the costume party awoke to the leftover carnage.
Herbert looked for the king and queen, but they weren't among the living or the dead.
They must have had something different in their glasses during the toast.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Herbert stared at his dead friend.
There was no way to explain this.
At best he'd been deemed crazy.
Either way he'd be locked up for a very long time.
"I'm sorry, Daphne."
Herbert tucked a stray strand of hair behind Daphne's ear, stood on shaking legs, and did
the only thing he could think of.
He ran.