Thursday, December 6, 2012

THE NIGHT BLOGGER: The Graveyard Game And Other Cemetery Plots part thirteen It’s What’s Inside That Counts

October 31st: If you’re just coming into the story now you’re pretty much screwed. Forgive me if I just cover the important stuff. It’s important that you know I’ve fallen in love with a girl named Sara Bishop.

It’s important you know that she has been chosen to become the vessel for something otherworldly, something called Gorgo the thousand faced moon. 

She tried to kill herself to avoid this dark fate. I saved her but she ended up on the fifth floor of the Albany Medical Center. It’s important you know that a little while before midnight the hospital went dark, no power, no backup generators, no nothing. The minute this happened I made my way to the stairs.

There was a man waiting for me on the third floor landing, he was creepy, clown-like and not quite human. He called himself Mister Jack. He tried to take Sara so I tried to burn him to death. It didn’t take and now he was back, spry as ever but hard to look at. 

And it’s important that you know that Mister Jack was waiting for me with a very big axe in his hands....

The Graveyard Game
And Other Cemetery Plots
part thirteen
It’s What’s Inside That Counts
Al Bruno III


In case you didn’t know, that is the sound an axe makes when it’s being swung at your head.


It was pitch black on the stairwell so that sound was the only way I could judge how close the axe was coming to me.


The answer was too fucking close. I had bolted down the stairs while my iPhone was being chopped to bits. The next thing I knew I was being chased.

Thanks to his wounds all Mister Jack could say was “...gck...” but the way he said it had me really worried.

The more steps I cleared the further I was getting from Sara’s room. Hell, I wasn’t even sure what floor I was on anymore. All I knew was that I had to keep my head down and keep running.


“...gck...” Mister Jack said.

Funny the things that go through the back of your mind at a time like this. Sure I was mostly concerned with staying alive but a part of me couldn’t stop wondering where Mister Jack had gotten an axe from.

Was it a fire axe? Did hospitals even have fire axes anymore in this age of metal detectors and flat out paranoia? It was one of those things you never really paid attention to. But if Mister Jack hadn’t grabbed his weapon out of a convenient wall-mounted case that meant that a clown with a burnt up face had stopped by the local hardware store on the way here.

These are the mysteries that consume my life.


I misjudged where step met landing and went down hard on my bad knee. The knee that had robbed me of my football scholarship almost a decade ago.


The head of the axe came down hard on the floor beside me. Another three inches and I would have looked like Vincent Van Gogh, another three inches more and I would have been a modern art masterpiece. I grabbed my tormentor and threw us both down the next set of stairs. As plans go, I’d used worse.


We tumbled ass over teakettle. My elbow hit Mister Jack in the throat, and I heard a very satisfying crunching sound but the blunt end of the axe hit me right in the groin so I didn’t much feel like celebrating.

We both slammed onto the hard floor of the next landing. My legs wanted to curl up but I made myself stand. Maybe it was my eyes getting used to the darkness or maybe it was the stars circling my head lighting the way but I could clearly see Mister Jack lying flat on his back. On his way down the stairs he had landed on the business end of the axe. His chest crumpled dryly around the blade. He wasn’t breathing but then again I couldn’t really remember if he’d ever breathed under normal circumstances.

Now this is the part where I did something really stupid... Well, stupider than usual anyway.

I grabbed the axe and yanked it free. I don’t know what I was thinking, maybe I figured I might need a weapon, maybe I wanted to see why he wasn’t bleeding, maybe I figured you guys would want to know what I’d find.

There was a piercing screech and something burst up out of the wound. It was all motion and round yellow eyes. Wings beat at my face, talons dug into the flesh of my cheek. I dropped the axe and heard it clatter down the stairs. I flailed at the shape, trying to smash it. I was still hitting myself in the head when it fluttered up and away.

I fell down hard on my ass and waited for everything to stop hurting. It had been a bird, a very specific kind of bird in fact. I thought of what Ashley Fowler had said to me;

Poor Brian, just a rat trying to run with the owls...”

* long did I sit there in the dark bleeding and groaning next to a corpse that wasn’t a corpse? I can’t really say.

All I can say is that by the time I started moving again the thousand faced moon had already begun to rise.

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