The Light Saga & Other Short Stories

“You said you’d show me what it looks on your side,” Melanie whispered, taking great care not to let her mom hear her. The nine-year-old girl was in her bedroom, alone, but she knew her mom’s hearing was keen.

As she so often told her bestie, Sheila, “Mom has super-hearing, I swear!” Stealing a quick glance at the half-closed door, Melanie again ventured to speak to the boy who lived in her closet.

“Jethro, when will you take me there?” she demanded as loudly as she dared.

Jethro’s eyes glowed a fiery red as he stood just within the shadow of the closet, staring with utter focus at the girl propped up in her bed. He could taste her life force, the brightness of her essence. His companions hidden behind him crowded him, eager to be invited into the world of the living.

“You know what you have to do to come to my world, Melanie. I told you, there’s a price to pay before a girl like you may enter,” Jethro replied, curling and uncurling his taloned hands in hungry anticipation. It was oh, so close now; he relished the moment. Some of his companions emitted barely audible wails of desperate need.

“Sure, I remember. You said I need to say your name three times, then say ‘I willingly…’. Is it ‘willingly’, Jethro?” Melanie asked, uncertain.

“Yes, yes! You must say the word ‘willingly’!” Jethro nearly screamed at the frustrating girl. Instantly though, he banked the embers of his impatience. “I am too close to mess things up now,” he thought.

“I should say ‘I willingly invite you into our house’. Is that correct?” Melanie asked, her heart rate increasing slightly with her excitement. She knew what she was doing was taboo; her mom had warned her umpteen times to never talk to strangers, but Jethro was a friend.

“When did he first appear in your closet?” Sheila had asked Melanie when she had first told her about Jethro one day during recess. Melanie told Sheila everything.

“I think it must have been on the night I spoke to the bathroom mirror,” Melanie had answered. “I’ve told you about the people living behind the mirror, haven’t I?” she had asked Sheila.

“Of course you did! You promised you’d let me speak to them, too, but I’m still waiting to do that,” Sheila had complained.

“Anyway, this night somebody left a message for me on the mirror! It told me to wait until bedtime and then to say the name ‘Jethro’ out loud in my dark bedroom at exactly 11 PM. I had to be careful that Mom wouldn’t know I was still awake at that time, but luckily she was watching some horror movie,” Melanie had said, giggling.

“So you did it? You said ‘Jethro’ at 11 PM, and the boy appeared?” Sheila had asked in breathless glee.

“Yep. And he’s been visiting me every night since then.”

Melanie looked at the boy standing ever so still inside her closet, right at the very edge of the door. Smiling at Jethro, Melanie said, “Can you tell me again what it’s like over there? Do you have a pet like I have?” she added, sitting up a bit straighter in her bed. “Mr. Twickles is my pet Teddy Bear hamster, but he’s not allowed to sleep in my bedroom. Mom insisted that I put his cage in the kitchen,” Melanie explained.

Jethro ground his sharp fangs, telling himself the wait would all be worth it once this stupid girl invited him in and opened the portal for him and his companions. He imagined what it would feel like, taste like, to rip her throat out and drink her innocent blood. To slash open her chest and tear the warm heart out of its cavity. To bite into that unresisting, still-beating organ and gorge on it.

A whimper of need escaped his maw, but he clamped down hard on his jaws. The ones behind him had shared his vision of carnage; they were nearly maddened with frustrated hunger.

“I’ve told you many times, dear Melanie. Why do you want me to repeat myself again? Just do what I asked you to do and you can come see for yourself, yes?” Jethro said in his most persuasive tone. He wanted to fly at the retarded child and brutalize her.

“I just love hearing about the lovely garden where we’ll play, the cool river that runs through the forest, the gentle animals that will speak to me. You know how much I love animals, Jethro,” Melanie replied.

“Yes, my friend. I remember. You’ve told me every time since I first came to visit you about your love for animals. So just say the words and you can have so much fun with animals that will talk to you!” Jethro prompted. He was unaware that he was digging his scalpel-like nails into the palms of his scaly hands.

“Okay, I will do it right now,” Melanie suddenly said, sending Jethro and those packed like sardines behind him nearly into apoplectic fits of malevolence. It was time to feast.

Clearing her throat softly, Melanie left her bed to stand five feet away from the closet. She realized that she was a head taller than Jethro; for some strange reason, this delighted her.

“Jethro,” she started, “I willingly invite you into our home.”

Jethro wanted to gouge out the foolish airhead’s eyes from her face. She had said “home”, not “house”. The invitation had to be completely accurate for him to gain access to her world. Stilling his fury, Jethro tried again.

“‘Into our house’. Not ‘into our home’, Melanie,” Jethro said with clenched teeth.

“Oh. Did I say ‘home’?” Melanie asked in surprise. “I’m so sorry, Jethro. Here, let me say it again,” she volunteered. “Jethro, I willingly invite you into our house,” she uttered the fatal incantation.

The next second, Hell and its monstrous dead entered the young girl’s room.

Melanie stared in stark horror at Jethro, seeing him fully and clearly for the first time. His ghoulish companions growled at his feet, desperate to feed.

Jethro’s scaly skin resembled charred flesh, his bald head sported two stubby horns; his mouth was a maw filled with fangs. Worst of all, his legs ended in hooves. “Silly girl,” Jethro mocked, showing his wickedly sharp fangs in a wide smile, “you’re mine now!”

Jethro readied himself to leap at Melanie, to tear her limb from limb … only to suddenly be brought up short when another girl stood up from where she had been silently and unobtrusively hiding on the far side of Melanie’s bed. The Demon Lord of the Dead faltered in confusion.

“Didn’t I tell you he would be awesome?” Melanie said to Sheila, increasing Jethro’s puzzlement.

“Delicious, you mean!” Sheila said. “So, is he yours?” she asked Melanie.

“But of course!” Melanie said with a chortle. “I’ve been shaping him for so long, how could I not have him all to myself?” she added, totally confounding Jethro.

“Right! Then his dead companions are all mine,” Sheila stated.

Before Jethro could make sense of the surreal situation, Melanie’s mouth opened incredibly wide, while her arms and fingers elongated horrendously. Then, as Jethro looked on in utter disbelief, she bit him cleanly in half, swallowing with unbridled pleasure.

“Even better than I had anticipated,” Melanie said before emitting a long, loud burp.

Sheila had also polished off the five living dead companions of the now deceased Demon Lord of the Dead. She smacked her lips as she wiped off the last smudge of purple blood.

That was when Melanie’s mother entered the room, smiling proudly at her daughter.

“What an astute student you’ve become, Daughter. You slyly manipulated Jethro and heightened his murderous anticipation to an exquisite level. I bet he tasted like gold,” she remarked.

“Oh, that he did, Mother. That he certainly did,” Melanie said, going over to her mother to hug her tightly.

“That will teach these pathetic restless dead ones not to mess with the daughter of a witch, or her best friend!” Sheila declared.

“I left half of him for you, Mother,” Melanie said, pointing to the stump of Jethro’s body twitching feebly on the bloody floor.

“Hmm. Luckily, I’ve just today stopped my diet. Now, for lovely dessert,” Melanie’s mother said as her jaws unhinged and her mouth stretched to engulf the last piece of Jethro’s body.

“I’ve always had a sweet tooth for hooves,” she declared.