I stumbled upon this blog hop for paranormal and horror authors, and yeah, I had to join. When it comes to horror, I'm a bit of a wuss, but I love anything paranormal. (Hello, twenty billionth vampire story idea.) It is a celebration of Halloween and all things spooky and creepy.
I thought I'd start off with a little flash fiction. Back in August, I went to MI ParaCon, a paranormal convention about ghost hunting and stuff like that. Every year, the Traveling Museum of the Paranormal and the Occult is always there with haunted items on display and their history. One item in particular has basically become the face of the museum and the spirit really seems to enjoy it. He's aptly named Billy the Idol (was formally called the Idol of Nightmares for reasons you can guess.)
It's less than 500 words.
“All the single ladies. All the single ladies.”
Billy hummed the song absently. Something shuffled to his right and a blur whizzed past. A second later, the lamp on the end table clattered to the floor. Moans filled the air.
“I told you not to run, Ruby.”
The blue-eyed doll lay next to the lamp. It sniffled quietly, stuck there until she recharged and could move again.
“Stupid spirit.” The crone’s voice was muffled inside the box.
“Be nice,” Billy scolded. “She’s a child.”
The crone growled something in a language Billy didn’t know. He rolled his eyes. If she would stop being so stubborn, she’d realize the good fortune fate had landed them in.
When Billy was so rudely awoken, he had no idea where he was or the things surrounding him. He lashed out. Intimidated mortals tended not to try tricks. It seemed to work. The mortal who unearthed him was terrified and Billy was content with that. Then the mortal gave him to another.
This one wasn’t as scared despite his attempts.
The mortal seemed unaffected by Billy’s attempts to show power over him. He kept bringing other mortals to see Billy. They’d sit around, speaking. Billy did all he could to dissuade them. Unfortunately, the first time his voice, hoarse from screaming, spoke from the thing in their hand only proved to embolden them more.
As time went by, Billy began to pick up their language. The mortals grew excited each time they heard him. He realized they were asking questions. They were in awe of him. He had to admit, he liked that. It must be what it was like to be a god.
Billy began cooperating more, learning the language. Many things in the mortal world still frightened him––not that he would admit that to them––but the one who kept him often went out of his way to explain, and eventually Billy learned what a camera, a recording device, and more were.
He grew to enjoy the attention. Mortals often left him gifts. They were polite to him, respectful. He never got that before. Before, mortals had feared him and ran. Now, they flocked to him.
Where were his mortals? They had come into the living room, talked quietly in the corner, then left. Maybe he should make a fuss so they came running. He cackled. No, they would return soon enough. Maybe with a gift another mortal had dropped off. He resumed humming his song. On the floor, Ruby wiggled a little, either dancing to his singing or trying to move. The crone muttered under her breath for him to shut up. He sang louder.
Dana and Greg looked up from the video feed and at each other. Their mouths hung open. It had been curiosity that led them gather the artifacts together and hide a camera. They hadn’t expected much to happen. Maybe the crone’s box would shift. But this?
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