“Are you okay, Mr. Wade?” Santana asked.
Liam Wade blinked his sleepy, weary eyes. They were struggling to adjust to the dimly-lit room that was the size of a coffin. He tried turning his head, but his neck was stiff and ached with discomfort.
“Who’s that?” he questioned, licking his parched lips. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Mr. Wade,” Santana said with excitement. “Santana the Spider!”
Liam’s heavy eyes followed the sound of the voice. He could see a single stray of light, and standing in the light was a small black spider with a red hourglass on its back.
His voice was weak and strained when Liam said, “Santana the Spider? That’s one of my fictional characters.”
“I know,” Santana squealed, climbing up Liam’s arm and coming to a stop on the bridge of his nose. “You used me in one of your novels, and I was the main character in your movie!” Santana smiled.
“How are you alive?” Liam crinkled his brow and wondered if he’d shot up to much heroin the night before. “You’re just a character that I created in my head.”
Santana’s legs danced like a human’s fingers considering a question. “I don’t know, Mr. Wade. Once you died, I, somehow, came to life!”
“Died?” Liam exclaimed. “I’m dead?”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Wade. Heart attack! Two days ago. Probably caused by that shit you shot up your arm! I would’ve been here sooner, but it takes a while to dig down five feet!”
“Five feet?”
“Yes,” Santana replied sadly. “This cemetery employs a bunch of illegal immigrants, and they tend to cut corners.”
Liam sighed heavily and tried to move his body but it was frozen like a slab of beef hanging in a meat locker. He thought of his life. A modest childhood then fortune and fame after one of his stories, Creep, became a huge box-office hit.
He tried to cry, but the tears just wouldn’t come. “I’m dead,” he whimpered. “I’m too young to be dead.”
“I know, Mr. Wade,” Santana said with deep sympathy.
Liam’s quivering voice rose with anger when he asked, “And just what the hell are you doing here?”
“To eat you, Mr. Wade.”
Liam chuckled. “You’re crazy!”
“No,” Santana answered, looking at the small hole as a long, brown worm crawled through it. “We are just pissed off!”
The worm slithered up Liam’s face, leaving a small line of slim that Liam desperately wanted to wipe off. The worm came to a stop on Liam’s clenched jaw line and said, “You stole that story, Creep, from our real creator, Dale Casey.”
Liam swallowed hard. “You two know about that?”
“Yes,” they said together.
“Listen,” Liam pleaded, “I was young and stupid! Really, guys, I was just twenty-three. And it was just the one time!”
“Doesn’t matter,” the worm said.
“You’re dead now,” Santana chimed in, “and we’re eager to see if revenge does taste better served up cold.”
—–
© 2009 by Chad Case
Chad Case lives in Lawrenceburg, Kentucky, with his wife, Melissa. He enjoys writing short horror fiction in his spare time. To date his works have been published on MicroHorror.com, The New Flesh Blogzine, Flashes In The Dark, Flashshot, and in the anthology: Toe Tags.
Tags: Chad Case
January 4th, 2010 at 12:45 am
The itsy bitsy spider song kept playing through my mind as I read this, not the children’s song, but something much more haunting and spidery. Liam trapped in a coffin with Santana the spider and the worm. Revenge? Teeth? Ugh this is creepy (and crawly)! I shouldn’t have read this so late tonight. I’ll have nightmares for sure.
January 4th, 2010 at 10:22 am
See, nowt comes of robbing stuff. Though normal reprimands would be preferred to having them creepy crawlies having a nibble whilst you know about it.
January 4th, 2010 at 6:22 pm
Chad!!! That was fantastic, she says as she shivers. “we’re eager to see if revenge does taste better served up cold.” Nice ending line.
January 5th, 2010 at 7:47 am
Thanks for the comments everyone.
January 6th, 2010 at 4:34 pm
A truly cautionary tale against plagerism! Great story, Chad!