A Penny Down the Well: A Short Story Collection of Horrifying Events (18 page)

“
Caitlin! Caitlin! Get me
out of here!” Gassy cried.

Caitlin did nothing, but
instead collapsed down in fear and helplessness.

Binkman continued forward,
setting the gas can down near the two. “Oh! Don’t worry, I’m just
here to have a little fun. We’re going to play a game, children.
Just a little game. I promise, you won’t feel the fire.” And he
laughed, rocking his terrible head back.

Harry’s eyes went wide and
he began immediately working at the door. “We have to do
something!” Harry said, feeling a strange sympathy for the two that
had been known to terrorize him for years.

Jacob stopped Harry as
soon as he began, casting an angered look his way. “Don’t even
think about it, Harry! You don’t want to go in there. Trust me.
Just wait. This is our only chance, don’t you see?” And Harry would
calm down a moment later, listening again.

All that could be heard
from the other room was the frightened screams from Gassy. Caitlin
had become silent, praying now to a god she didn’t believe in, but
considered it with the exposure of something as evil as Binkman’s
image. Binkman, however, became quickly impatient with the
noise.

“
Screams!” He shouted,
dark face contorting wildly with rage. “Screams, always! You
children scream and scream!” And the pitter-patter of feet that
shouldn’t have had the proportion required to uphold the bulbous
body brought Binkman quickly to Gassy and the vile face came
directly before Gassy’s to whisper. Gassy was so afraid that he
fell silent, as a child would with the raising of a father’s voice.
“No more screams.” And it was a knife that Binkman used, otherwise
unseen due to the distraction of his visage. One clean slash across
the hanging, wedged belly of the fat boy and intestines, innards,
and other vital organs came parading out of his body to hang down a
few feet to the ground. A pool of blood came rushing out, as fluid
would from a popped water balloon, spilling artistically across the
floor. To Gassy, this was no art, and to Caitlin, this was the
moment to start her own fit of screaming again.

The sound drew Binkman’s
rearing stare and exponentially increasing anger. “They never
stop!” He shouted, charging toward the girl.

Caitlin shrunk into as
tight of a space as she could, but the walls in the corner wouldn’t
give and she was left to face the nearing monstrosity without a
chance for resolve. Binkman’s long, spidery fingers shot into her
pigtailed hair and pulled her swiftly to her feet, holding the
blade out to his side with his other hand.

“
You should mind which
crowds you associate yourself with, girl. Some of them can get you
into a bit of trouble!” The vicious grin returned.

Caitlin moved into a stage
that had her begging and pleading for her life. If she thought to
believe in a god, even for a moment, in this moment she knew she
was abandoned by it, or there was none at all.

Harry and Jacob pushed
slowly from the door. They were starting to realize what may have
happened in the other room. Jacob did all that he could. He rushed
back toward one of the main doors connected to the room with the
covered pool. All of the doors were chained and closed. Harry
checked others to determine the same. There was no exit from the
building, but for the way they came. At the other doors, however,
they heard the voices of Barker and Crater on the other side,
trying to devise a way in which to get it. They were seeming
equally frustrated.

Binkman continued to hold
the girl up by her hair, creating an immense amount of pain and
pressure at her head. Blood rushed to Caitlin’s feet as she hung,
not wanting to move her body too much for the amount of pain such
movements inflicted. Binkman began on her then as a fine sculptor
would on a piece of clay, molding it to his desire.

The doctor started by
pushing the sharp blade in right under her hairline. The girl
screamed, reaching for the arm that controlled his cutting, trying
to stop it. Her efforts only made his precision falter and the cuts
became ragged as he followed the pattern of her hairline. Blood
poured effortlessly from the new incisions at the head of the girl
and soon after her entire body fell to the floor, with her still
alive, eyes hidden behind the veil of blood, like some sort of
hellish bride. The girl only fell to the floor because Binkman had,
by this time, completely removed her pigtailed scalp and held it in
hand. He dragged the crying, screaming, girl by her arm toward the
corpse of her boyfriend, Gassy, who, after gargling, bloodied
breaths, and blood loss ended him, hung pitifully from the window
he was stuck in, like a pig on a hook.

Binkman left the girl
about four feet from the dead boy before discarding the knife a
short distance from her. The doctor snagged ahold of the hanging
intestines and pulled them toward the girl like a sick clown’s
trick. Leaving one end of the gory string at her side, he started
to shout. “Now we play a game!” And he did
love
games.

Binkman removed his top
hat and cast it near the knife. The smell of copper filled the room
as Binkman slapped the bloody scalp atop his now bare, asymmetrical
head, wearing it like a sort of macabre hat. The two pigtails stood
atop his head and now he gestured to the girl who continued to cry,
continued to scream and waited for the oncoming of unconsciousness
that never quite did.

“
Swing, you floozy! Swing
and we’ll see how many times I trip, huh?” Binkman didn’t take into
account that the only one that knew of the replicated event was the
one dead and stuck in the window frame. “Swing away!” And he
cackled, jumping without her effort and landing on the grotesque,
bloody innards on the floor, flattening them with each leap.
“Swing!” He shouted again.

The girl finally relented,
swinging only once the long, organic rope before she collapsed to
her side, either unconscious or dead, or terrified so greatly that
her soul fled for its own means of escape. Binkman stopped and
watched the girl, shaking his head with disappointment, causing his
long, pointed ears to bob back and forth. “Well, that wasn’t as
exciting as I’d hoped.”

Binkman pulled the bloody
scalp from his head and began to whistle, a sound that was
distinctly different than the incessant screaming, a sound that
drew both Harry and Jacob, then eventually the reencounter of
Barker and Crater.

It was Barker that first
noticed the blood at the window and he frantically demanded Crater
to run and get someone. It was also Barker that saw Binkman’s
unnatural hand slip through the small space next to Gassy’s trapped
body, reach into Gassy’s pocket and maneuver as if looking for
something. Barker shot back, with a quick, fearful scream.
Binkman’s hand stopped just for a moment, then continued searching
until it pulled a box of matches from the pyromaniac’s jeans. And,
like an eel back into its hole in the reef, the hand fled back into
the darkness. The next thing that came creeping from the darkness
was an intense heat, then flames. Barker retreated as the flames
grew stronger.

Harry and Jacob smelled
fire and they fled as far from the barricaded locker room as they
could, Jacob paying mind to remove the chair from the door before
heading as far from it as he could. Smoke started to fill the large
room, which would require some time to become lethal. It was only a
couple of minutes before the sounds of sirens could be heard
outside and a large bolt-cutter tore away the locks and chains from
the main doors, allowing the two boys freedom, both of which fled
the smoky room in coughing fits. Harry and Jacob were taken in
quickly by the fire-fighters, wrapped in blankets and ushered
toward the emergency vehicles. As they moved, their eyes caught the
heavy, disbelieving gazes of both Crater and Barker. Jacob met them
with an equally distraught look. It then occurred to Jacob that
Binkman didn’t have an intention to simply scare the gang; he was
going to kill them off. That became even more apparent later that
evening.

Jacob sat with his mothers
in the living room. They were trying to pull information out of
him, but got nothing. Jacob insisted they watch the local news,
which had been doing non-stop coverage of the fire in the school’s
pool house. The newscaster said that there was a confirmation of
two bodies. Children were interviewed with their parents and the
children admit that they knew Gassy was something of a pyromaniac.
The news, in general, seemed to be suggesting that it was an
accident, and by the time the fire was out, there would be no
chance of retaining much for evidence. A firefighter on the scene
admitted, “I’ve fought plenty of fires, but I’ve never quite seen
one burning like this.” And Jacob knew it was burning as it did
because it was fueled by more than just gasoline—it was fueled by
something purely evil, something Jacob had freed and something
Jacob feared he wouldn’t be able to stop.

That night, Jacob sat in
bed completely awake, staring at his window. He felt guilty, as
though he were the one that lit the fire himself. Jacob also knew
that it wasn’t merely the fire that ended the lives of both Caitlin
and Gassy. He wondered quietly how terrible their death was and
what mortifying circumstances transpired behind that barricaded
door. He wondered if he should have opened it. It was too
late.

“
Counting sheep?” The
harrowing voice spoke, as if near his ear.

Jacob shot up, looking
back over his shoulder. Binkman sat near a corner, in a chair that
his mothers used to use for reading him stories before bed. They’d
never taken it away, and yet, now, it would never be the
same.

“
You killed them...” Jacob
said, just above a whisper.

“
I saved your life, Jacob.
Harry’s too! I thought you would be more...” And he paused,
thinking of whatever unsettling word would best fit.
“...grateful.”

“
I can’t be grateful! You
killed someone! Two people! Because of me!” And tears began to well
in Jacob’s eyes, his first real sign of emotion since the traumatic
event.

Binkman sighed, shaking
his head. His skin began to take on a sick, light blue tone,
showing that his corruption was becoming worse. “If I wouldn’t have
intervened, you wouldn’t be here right now. It’s as simple as that.
They intended to kill you, Jacob. It was my defense that kept you
alive. Why be sympathetic to murderers?” He asked.

Jacob shook his head. “But
they weren’t murderers. They were just bullies. Punks.” And Jacob
thought about the story he heard, about Gassy killing that family.
He sighed, turning his eyes to the window again.

“
You know what happened,
Jacob. No need to deny it. The world is a better place without
them.” And he sneered. “But, for the others...” He
began.

Jacob looked back sharply,
shaking his head. “The others?! No! I’m not helping you anymore!
Haven’t you done enough?”

Binkman stood, standing
nearly to the ceiling now, and so much so that his hat, which had
lost its rigidity, flopped to the side to accommodate his stance.
“Then you don’t want me to save Harry’s life?” He asked once again,
alluding to the unknown, an unknown which caught Jacob’s
attention.

“
W-What?” Jacob asked,
confused.

“
Crater and Barker are
descending on Harry’s home as we speak, intending to get a little
bit of revenge. I shouldn’t stop them?” Binkman inquired,
contorting his appalling face questioningly.

“
What are they doing?”
Jacob rose from his bed to his feet, still in his clothes from
earlier in the day.

“
They’re going to burn his
house down. Kill all of them. Innocent, innocent people. You want
to protect these people?” Binkman asked.

Jacob shook his head. “We
have to do something! We can’t let that happen!” He
shouted.

“
No, no we can’t. Then,
shall I? You should probably call your friend and tell him to leave
as quickly as he can! There isn’t much time, boy.” And his face
became sinister, and the very essence of it.

Jacob nodded, rushing out
to the living room to steal Ima’s phone as he headed out the door.
He was met with no interference, as his parents had made it to bed
by that hour and had no reason to assume that Jacob would rush off
in the night. Outside, he quickly dialed Harry. Harry’s mother
answered, seemingly about to go to bed herself, noticeably so by
the irritation in her voice.

“
Hello?” The woman asked,
quickly.

“
Evening Mrs. Grigg.” He
said, in a rushed, single breath. “May I please speak with Harry?
It’s Jacob.” Jacob hoped for her cooperation.

“
Jacob, do you know what
time it is? Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Mrs. Grigg asked.

“
Mrs. Grigg, I’m really
sorry! I just need to talk to Harry, just for a moment. Please?” He
begged. “It’s about a school project!” He added, lying, hoping it
would convince her.

Mrs. Grigg begrudgingly
accepted the plea and went downstairs to hand the phone off to
Harry. Jacob could hear her instructions to her son as she handed
the phone to him, “Don’t be long Harry, you hear? It’s late and you
need to get to bed.”

When Harry received the
phone, he asked, obviously confused by the call, and immediately
anxious. “H-Hello?”