Once upon a time, in a little village. There lived a young lady, who ran a bed & breakfast.

One late evening, a young man stepped into the bed and breakfast. He smiled at the lady. But she just had a blank expression.

He cleared his throat and told her the place looked great. She raised an eyebrow and led the man to his room.

As she handed him the keys, she said, ‘‘Do not stare into the mirror tonight. Just do your best to wait to see your reflection in the morning.’’ He nodded his head slowly, and replied, ‘‘All right.’’

But would he listen to the warning. Later that night, he whistled and hummed while brushing his teeth. He heard someone chuckle.

It sounded like it was coming from the mirror. He ignored it and soon walked to his bed.

Then he heard it again. This time it was much louder.

He could not stand it any more. The chuckle kept growing louder & louder, with every passing moment. He turned his head slightly to stare into the mirror.

As soon as he did, it grinned! The thing emerged from the mirror. It looked so much like him.

His indigo eyes started moving back and forth from fright. Whatever was coming toward him at lightning speed was not human!

The man screamed. His reflection twisted his neck. His body fell on the floor.

His eyes were still open wide. It stared at the sight of fear in the dead man’s eyes.

Early in the morning, he got ready to leave the bed and breakfast. The lady wondered why her guest was wearing sunglasses indoors. The man smiled and told her he thought the glasses made him look cool.

The minute he stepped foot outside, he removed the glasses. His eyes glowed bright and red.

#ROUGE

You know that feeling when ypu meet someone and instantly know they're not a good person? Senator Paul Weinschmidt was the first monster I'd I met. My dad dragged my brother and I to a Republican rally to meet the "future president" as he called them. At some point, I was turned loose to go to the bathroom. I'd just finished washing my hands when he'd opened the door. My heart froze and I became a statue instantly.

"My apologies little lady. I thought this was the mens."

The door closed just as quickly as it'd opened and I began to thaw. It was short-lived. When I walked out, he was there again. He was talking to someone, but as soon as I came out, he smiled. I immediately felt an urge to run, so I made a beeline for the auditorium we were shoved into. My parents hadn't noticed my absence, yet I was relieved to be back with them. The rest of the speeches about international evils and the necessity of beating the Democrats dronwd on. I didn't feel anything until I heard the senator introduce himself. Invisible snakes slithered up my spine and my heart sank in my shoes. I coveree my ears, much to my father's dismay.

"What's wrong with you, Abby! Don't you want to hear the future president?"

I started to say no, but the senator caught wind of the skirmish and came over. All of my organs were hot and melting.

"Your daughter doesn't appear to like me very much," he said.

"No, no, she's just sleepy," my mother assured him as she tried to pry my one of my hands off my ears.

"Don't worry. I'll win her over. Here. This is for you."

My eyes were closee but I felt something soft and leathery on my lap. My mother had gasped and my father was thanking him. I'd tried to shake whatever it was off of me but my mother took it. It wasnt until years later that I even knew what it was. They announced that his wife shot him in his home during dinnertime. He was never president but my dad cried like the day Reagan got impeached. My mother was equally upset. No part of me cared. He rubbed me the wrong way for a reason.

"He loved you, Abby," she'd murmured. "He gave you that bow and everything."

I reached up and grazed my favorite hairbow, a big purple one with pooka dots. My mother never told me where aI got it from otherwise it never would've touched me. Now, the thought of it was making me nauseous. I got up, threw it in the trash, and ran to my room.

The monster liked to give her hugs, drawn out and suffocating.

They had been acquaintances at first. He'd occasionally come for a visit, but leave after a few days. He was the worst house guest, breaking her things and snooping around, but he never stayed long.

Until one day, he came and never left.

He was very clingy. Always by her side, all hours of the day. He'd depart for one minute and she'd hope he was gone forever. But he always returned.

He would wrap his arms around her waist, and she'd try to pry them off. It didn't work. He was too strong.

He was jealous and possesive. He didn't like seeing her with anyone else. So he'd manipulate her, make her say the wrong thing. He smiled every time one of her relationships crumbled, like a burning building.

She'd want to go outside, but his firm grip kept her tethered. No, not today, he'd say to her over and over again. Occasionally, she would sneak out, but her freedom was fleeting. He dragged her back, making her skate over the dewy grass.

He was always watching.

She'd reach for something to do, a set of pastels, a journal. He saw. He grabbed her hands, held them behind her back. Made her wrists sore and on the verge of snapping.

He liked making her cry. He'd tell her that she was worthless, that there were so many messed up things in her life. That her existence was a waste of space. She wanted to hold them in, stand up to him, but he'd keeping going until the sadness prickling her eyes were too much. He wouldn't stop talking.

The woman sitting across from her asked a question.

"So... what's wrong?"

His hand was over her mouth, cold and clammy. To keep her silent.

Then his grip eased up a bit. His words transferred into her mind. He wanted her to say: Nothing really. It's fine. Everything's fine.

But she had accepted the truth. He wasn't her friend anymore.

"I think I'm depressed."

I met a monster when I was eleven. He may not have had horns or sharp teeth, and he may not have smelled like blood, but a monster he was.

In fact, he looked nothing like a monster. He wore the beauty of an angel, and had the charm of a salesman, all with soft laughter and Manson-like charisma. In short, he looked harmless.

The worst I thought he could do was, perhaps, break my heart.

I never saw the monster that lived beneath the surface until I was thirteen. By then, I had known him two years and trusted him more than I should’ve.

I should have known better. He was the type to put women down in a subtle-joking way. Every now and then, I’d catch him in a lie, but he always reassured me that something had slipped his mind. He made comments that made me a little uncomfortable, but I always brushed it away. I mean, he was just charming that way, he was a flirt.

But then he started to say things to me, things I knew deep down were too far. I tried to convince myself that it meant nothing, and I ignored it.

One day, his words changed. It turned from words to actions and from soft laughter to rough hands. I saw the monster that day. He looked me in the eyes, and I knew, he was going to do whatever he liked. There was nothing I could do about it.

Before he was able to unleash the beast completely, before he had pulled the thin layers separating us away, someone interrupted. And just like that, he stowed the monster away in some deep, dark cave inside himself. He laughed and talked and made it all go away without a single question or objection to what he had done.

That was the first time I saw a monster in real life, and that day I realized some humans, they’re just monsters in disguise.

“Hey, you sure we won't get caught?” I am in Jessica Gonzalez's bed the new girl in town about to go all the way.

“There's no one home to catch us.” Her lip in-between her teeth. She asks if I ever done this before.

“Yes!”

“Jess?” a woman's voice calls from outside her bedroom door.

“Not again!” she says.

She takes my hand and we head for the closet she closes the door behind us.

“Dont you think your mom will get curious about you hiding in the closet?” a whisper escapes she looks just as terrified as I feel.

“Joey I only live with my dad my mom died last month before we moved!”

(This is the sequel to 'Laugh or Die' cos Ernaline proposed that I continue the story with challenges.)

I woke up to feel a weight pressing on my chest. It was complete dark.

My first groggy thought: Which idiot brother put a dumbell on me again?

I tried to push the thing off my chest. It stuck to it stubbornly.

Then it dug claws into my ribs.

Wait. Claws?

Reaching for the flashlight that I kept in my drawer, ( I like to be prepared should my siblings try to prank me) I turned it on.

The thing perched on my torso was . . . undescribable. Let's break it down.

Eyes - small, beady and vulture-like,

Nose - none. Bears a resemblance to Voldemort, if Voldemort was squat and pudgy and wore a diaper.

Mouth - a creepy slash from ear to ear. (I'm telling you, when people say they smile from ear to ear, there's nothing nice about it.)

Ears - long and pointed, located on the top of its head.

It was buck naked except for a diaper that sagged a little dangerously. Like a demon diaper baby.

I did the natural thing: I screamed. I pushed the thing off me and scrambled for the door.

'Mooom! Daaad!' I yelled, running into their room. I shook my mom. She didn't even budge. The same thing for Dad too. I blame the alcohol amounts they drink.

Behind me, the demon baby waddled into the room and fixed its hungry eyes on me.

It pounced onto me. Heavier than it looked, it managed to knock me to the ground. I desperately squirmed out of its grip and ran out of the room, the demon baby waddling at frightening speeds behind me.

Think. Is there any weapons in the house? I racked my brain.

Broom? Fire extinguisher? Didn't Grandpa keep a whole locker of guns and knives?

Right. When he moved away last month, he brought them with him.

My family had a safe with the label 'IN CASE OF DANGER, OPEN' and I found it in the storeroom. There was a numerical lock.

And I didn't know the combination.

As I struggled with the lock, I heard the demon baby growling behind me.

I turned around to feel something heavy land on me. The wind was knocked out of me and I fell to the ground, the safe clattering out of my grip.

I scrabbled for anything. Anything to hit the demon baby with. As two pudgy hands curled around my neck, my fingers curled around something cylindrical. I gripped it tightly and twisted my torso backwards to face the demon baby on my back. Without seeing what the thing in my hands was, I plunged it into the demon baby's neck.

Instead of a bloody murder, the demon baby broke into tendrils of mist upon contact with the object.

And standing before me was someone I'd hoped never to see again.

'Hello! I'm surprised you didn't die! Hermes grinned. 'May I have my wooden stake back?' Hermes was going for Hugh Jackman's Van Helsing look.

'What? I looked at the thing I was holding as Hermes turned on the lights. Indeed, I was gripping a wooden stake - the Dracula kind.

'Um, sure.' I handed it back to him. He took it and slipped it into his satchel.

'I needed it for hunting. Besides, don't count it as a favor. I placed that diaper demon there to see how'd you react,' he continued brightly.

'Whaaat?'

'Don't worry! It was just an illusion in your mind. It doesn't exist.' he assured me.

'Since I recorded all that, consider the debt paid. I won't disturb you anymore!' he said as he disappeared.

Well, that line was all I needed for a good sleep.

     There was something terribly wrong with that woman. I knew it from the moment I first laid eyes on her. Her complexion was opaque, and her eyes were glazed over. She was frail but perfectly competent. In fact, one might even wonder if her faculties weren’t far superior to the average human being. She appeared to look through you, as though to know your secret sins. I couldn’t help but connect her presence in my life to the events that were unfolding right before my eyes. It was midnight, and I had fallen asleep at nine o’clock in the evening. It wasn’t like me to turn in this early, but I was so sleepy and kept nodding off. But, at precisely 12:00 am, I was thrust awake by the sound of my closet door creaking open. My eyes shot open, and I attempted to gain my composure. I stared at the door. It was ajar, but that wasn’t altogether uncommon. Countless times the hem of my bath-rob, which hangs on the inside of the closet, gets caught causing the door not to close properly. I closed my eyes and attempted to fall back to sleep. Creak. There it was again. Unmistakable. Something inside my closet was pushing the door from the inside. I sat up in my bed, my eyes glued to the shadowed doorway. The opening was gaping now, but I could not discern what was inside. Curiosity had its deep grips in me, but a greater fear was winning the fight. I crawled out of my bed and laid down on the floor; the bed between me and the door, all I could see was the closet from under the bed skirt. Creak. The door opened further. Any question of imagination fled from my mind, except that which recalled every horror movie that I had ever seen. I was still, frozen in place. Suddenly, I felt as though I wasn’t alone, as though some presence was sharing my air. I remained silent and listened. Then, a subtle, yet pronounced whisper tickled my ears. I couldn’t discern what it was saying, it spoke in some foreign, yet familiar tongue. Petrified, I placed my hand over my mouth to muffle the rush of sound that was inevitable to exit my throat. As I moved my hand toward my mouth, I brushed up against something heavy, dangling around my neck. I grabbed ahold of it and examined it. How did this get here? Where did it come from? When did it get placed around my neck? Suddenly I remembered where I had first seen it. It belongs to her. The woman. But not just any woman. This woman was my fiancèe’s grandmother, although, she looked old enough to be his great-grandmother. At least. I’ll never forget the first day that I met her. My fiancee, then my boyfriend, picked me up at my house and took me to his parent’s place. I walked in the door, greeted by my future in-laws. That’s when I first saw her. She was seated at the dinner table in the conjoining room, just staring at me. By her appearance and dress, she reminded me of one of those fortunetelling games that you might see at an arcade. I envisioned an old worn sign above her head that read, “The Great Zoltan.” She didn’t move, just sat and stared. I began to wonder if she was dead. As eerie as she was, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. Trying my best not look at her for too long, but failing miserably. 

     “Nora!” My obviously annoyed boyfriend snapped. 

     “What?,“ I asked dazedly and confused. 

     “Are you going to give me your coat?” He asked.

​      “Oh yeah, here.” I removed my coat and gave it to his awaiting hand. 

       “I asked you like three times, what’s going on with you tonight.” He asked slightly concerned and completely agitated. 

     Admittedly I had been acting a bit unusual that evening. It wasn’t my fault though. Something inside me felt, off. 

     “What were you staring at?“ ”He looked at around the corner at into the room, which he couldn’t see from where he had been standing. “Oh, that’s just my grandmother, do you want to meet her.” I honestly wasn’t sure. But before I could answer, he took me by the hand and guided me to her. 

     “Bunica, aceasta este prietena mea Norei.” I didn’t understand him because he spoke to her in Romani chib, or Romanian, which was her native language. 

     She didn’t move. I feared that she might have died and no one had noticed. She certainly looked the part of a corpse. 

    He placed his hand on her back, “Bunica!” As if yelling louder would wake the dead. “Bunica!”

     The third time must have been a charm because she snapped her head around to where we were standing and stared deep into my soul. Her breathing didn’t change, nor her position, only the direction of her smolder. It wasn’t until that moment that I noticed a beautiful ruby necklace dangling down her chest. I couldn’t help but gaze at it as it glimmered in the light of the room. I was no stranger to gems and Jewlery, but something about this particular piece was unique. It was a deep red, almost like the tent of fresh blood. He tried again, “aceasta este prietena mea Norei.” which I assume meant something about who I was and why I was there.

     She reached out, grabbed my hand and held it in hers. Her hands were old, cold, and clammy. After a few seconds, which seemed like ten or fifteen minutes, she spoke, “ceea ce este în mine, acum trec la voi.”

    I jumped. It was as if her words were somehow inside of me. I shot a look my boyfriend; I needed to know what she had said to me. He shrugged his shoulders and replied, “She’s a crazy old bat, who knows what she’s rabbling on about half the time.” 

    I quickly relieved my hand from her grip, and she returned to her previous focal point. Dead ahead. Emphasis on dead. My boyfriend and I left the room and enjoyed an evening with his parents over dinner. We ate in the kitchen and, surprisingly, his grandmother didn’t join us. As a matter of fact, I didn’t see much more of her after that night. She was around, but no one really interacted with her much. On the car ride home I asked my boyfriend about her. 

     “To be honest, I don’t know a lot about her. I know that she use to be a circus performer or something. I think she read people’s fortunes.”

     “That’s so funny! I thought she looked the part.” 

     “Yeah, my dad’s family were all from Romania. I vaguely remember him telling me stories about how people would come from all around to have their palms read and speak to their dead relatives or something like that. Personally, I don’t buy into all of that, but its a pretty big deal with my family’s culture.”

     “Well, I think its cool. I’d love to talk to her more about it.” I was genuinely interested.

     “Yeah. I wouldn’t recommend that.” He said hesitantly. 

     “Why not?”

      “She’s kind of crazy now; my parents say that she talks to people who aren’t there and is always rambling on about things that make my parents very uncomfortable. She’s kind of a burden on my folks. She’s really old, and they don’t totally know what to do with her.” He said concentrating on the road, wet from the pouring rain. 

     “Why don’t they put her in a home?” I asked with concern. 

     “Yeah, Romani’s don’t really do that. Families take a lot of pride in taking care of one another, its just kind of the way that we are.” 

      “Well, that’s sweet. What was up with that Rudy necklace around her neck? That thing must have cost a fortune.” I asked, awaiting some exciting story about a beloved family heirloom. 

     He looked at me puzzled, “What necklace?” 

     “The Ruby necklace that she was wearing. You couldn’t have missed it, that thing was huge!” I asked, very confused by his question. 

     “She wasn’t wearing a necklace. She can’t afford jewelry, especially not like what you just described.” 

      “I know what I saw! She was definitely wearing a ruby necklace. It was beautiful.” I saw insistently.

      “Okay, whatever you say babe.” He said with a condescending tone that I had come to loathe. 

       That was three years ago. I didn’t think much about the necklace since then. In that time we became engaged and began planning our wedding. My career as a stock-broker took off, and I had received several promotions. My partners all said that I seemed to have an uncanny knack for predicting price fluctuations, they said it was like nothing that they had ever seen before. Tomorrow is my wedding, and I opted out of the traditional night before wedding bachelorette party. Oh, how I wish I hadn’t done that. Now here I lay, a ruby around my neck, and this thing haunting my bedroom. What is it? Why is it here? And what does it have to do with this gift: the ruby necklace?

​

My eyes open with a jolt at midnight. The room was hot, and I had broken out in a cold sweat. A nightmare had awoken me but the details were fuzzy. My heart still raced from my dream.

The room was dark with blacks and grays. Shapes were visible, but it was hard to tell what was what. The door to the bedroom was open leading to absolute darkness.

I picked my head up off of my pillow to look at the doorway. Unease filled my mind as I focused my eyes on a new silhouette. A large dark spot, darker then what was seen through the doorway before.

Maybe it was just the shadow from a painting out in the hall. I’m just being a little paranoid. My eyes could just be playing tricks on me in the dark. That’s what I thought as I watched that dark figure moving further through my doorway.

I pull the covers up over my head, and try to go back to sleep. Only now I can’t sleep. I laid there for a few minutes, getting too hot under my thick blanket. The only way I can go back to sleep is to pull my covers back down and prove to myself that what I saw was all in my mind. So that’s what I decide to do.

Slowly I lift the corner of my blanket just enough to look at my door. Nothing’s there. Relieved I uncover myself to show the rest of the bedroom. A tall, dark and faceless figure stood now at the end of my bed, hovering over me.

I scream, and wake up. Shaking from fear of what I had dreamed, I sit in the same spot I’ve been in all night. The same spot I’ve been in during my nightmare. I took a deep breath and thought about what had happened in my dream, but the details were fuzzy.

Three men are approaching the ruins of the fortress. It looks abandoned as most walls are destroyed. Inside they try to find shelter from the harsh winter. They start the fire, without any conversation. It seems that it has been prepared for them; just to ignite it. Everyone sits to his place around it. Still no word leaves their mouth as cold winds are the only thing to be heard, apart from hauling of the wolves.

-“Fetch the wood”, silence is broken in commanding voice to the fattest and the smallest man. Also he has a dark beard all over his face. He goes out, but he is not coming back. As the fire is slowly diminishing, some figure takes the seat of an absent fat man. They are dozing until a huge fire in front of them prompts both men to look up. The third person isn’t their comrade, but some very old man, with the skin like of the shark, tiny eyes hidden inside eye cavities and fringes instead of hair. His gray finger calls them to follow him along the corridor. First part is open, but then they plunge into darkness, after some opening with white sharp objects all around; one man cuts his finger feeling it. They steadily go straight relying on touch, only. The passage is however, twisting and turning and the walls aren’t of some solid material. They are kind of alive to the touch and strange noises can be heard more-less. It could be, but it isn’t, an underground stream. Also the stench of strange sources, familiar but not so. As they move on they get used to it, still without clue what it could be. From time to time they stumble into mucilage liquid. The torch which their guide is carrying isn’t for light but its aroma prevents them from being sick. After going many miles they find themselves in the chamber with some light as the leader confronts them asking to choose one of three doors to proceed further. Both men point to the left one.

-“Open it”.

Fearfully, they do what is commanded. Darkness is behind it. First man takes one step, but he can’t breathe. Old man takes another torch from the wall, lights it and passes one to each men. After that, there are only two of them in the shrunk tunnel. The stench is awful, so they have to handle the aroma close to their noses slightly burning them. The progress is painfully slow, there is a steady flow of mucus under their feet and walls are very soft and spongy. They realize there is no way back as they stop for a minute searching for each other in the smelly darkness. At last they enter another chamber with three doors. It could be the same one, but who knows. First man grabs the handle of the door to the left. Nothing. Second man takes the handle of the door to the right. Same result. Both try to exhale but stop the motion at half way as part of the brain realizes how bad the idea is. Standing in front of the middle door it opens to them. After a few steps they realize it is some big hall of the cave, with natural stairs going down, near the side of the wall. As they descend they comprehend the size of it. It is much bigger than the chamber above. They look around and notice the little girl in white dress with blonde hair looking up to them, holding some stick and hiding under the stairs. They hear some noise from the other side, dark side. It could be an underground stream, but it is, probably, something sinister. They look at the girl with a pleading gaze, but something else comes into vision. The third man, fat, short and with a beard. He isn’t a normal self as he is walking funny by the wall and his skin is very soft like some gelatin. His eyes are nowhere to be seen.

From the dark corner a gigantic creature appears. It is the dragon, as his swirling neck is unmistakable. However his green, enormous head is different than expected. It consists of a huge sheep head and horn and a very dark nozzle of the cow. It opens its mouth, but it needs not to, because both men are already extremely frightened. The tongue is unfashionable purple and acts as hypnosis to its victims.

-“What to eat?” - The girl asks, as both men, like one, points to the third, their former companion. The dragon grabs it, but spills him out.

-“Rotten!” – The girl says, as both are going backwards.

-“What to eat?” - The girl asks again, as both men point to each other. Fraction of the second slower is grabbed by the mouth of the creature and quickly digested. Loud belch seals the deal. “Is it fed?”, the remaining man is thinking to himself.

-“What to eat?” - The girl asks yet again. The man points to her, but the dragon shakes his head and leaps forward. The man sees its throat and belch sound is in his ears, when he wakes up in his bed, immediately standing up. He walks down to the kitchen, holding his stomach. Same stench from the corridors of the keep can be smelled, but most of his brain is still in sleeping mode. He doesn’t turn on any light, but straight to the refrigerator. He opens its door. There is s pot of carbonnade stew looking at him. His belly desires something else this time, a yogurt or pickles. He doesn’t notice the small blonde girl in the lower compartment looking at him. Instead he remembers, as the lights of his brain are slowly restarting, the legs of eaten man wiggling and dangling aiming to stay alive despite its body is already in the mouth of the dragon. It was so funny, remembering the same attitude of chicken legs without their heads. As he grabs the jar of pickles he notices the child who opens it mouth:

-“What to eat?” -

The jar of pickles turns into a giant head of a green monster, emerging ever larger, but he still holds the jar and looks at the girl with last thought to his legs – “Would it be as funny as of that poor other man?”

I can’t escape her, no matter how hard I try! I’m exhausted from years of trying to outrun her, to hide from her, and even trying to kill her. But she can’t be stopped.

I woke up this morning hoping that she wouldn’t be there, but of course she was. She was waiting for me with a devilish grin sitting on her lips and a playful glint in her eyes. She seemed all too happy to see my miserable face walking toward her.

“Good morning!” She chirped. I ignored her, as I always did. “Don’t be like that, sweetheart. Talk to me. Indulge me.”

I knew if I acknowledged her it would just give her power, more control over me. Despite not responding, she knew that she had a hold on me still.

“You look dreadful this morning; couldn’t sleep well?” The truth was, I hadn’t slept in months- maybe even years. I’d close my eyes and I’d see her. I open them and there she is, whispering terrible things in my ear that echoed in my head all day. She tells me I’m ugly. I’m fat. No one loves me. No one ever will.

Most days I try to ignore her, but I know that even when I turn away from the mirror, she will still be there. Most days I try to forget that the monster is me.