The Big Bad Wolf

Hi guys,

I'm posting this here for critiques for any who are inclined to give them. It contains some adult language and disturbing content (at least, I hope it's disturbing - if not, we have a problem). You have been warned.

If the mods feel it's not appropriate for the board, I'll not be offended if it's taken down.




The Big Bad Wolf
©2005 Steven Belew


The screams of the children echoed down the white painted cinderblock hall. They were stampeding to the exits, arms trailing behind them as they ran. The final bell of the final day of the school year rang loud and long. Outside, they were throwing papers in the air as they boarded the buses.

Mary Goldman crossed her arms and leaned on the door to her classroom, a wry smile blooming on her face. Another year done. This had been her third year at Carson Elementary, and it had been better than the previous two. Her most vivid memories of her first year were of Billy Meery. Demon spawn Billy Meery. He’d made that year misery. She’d almost quit teaching because of him.

Her second year had been easier, but no picnic. The Mulder twins had been hell on wheels, but they were good boys at heart. Still, they’d exhausted her at times.

This year had been different. Her kids (and she did consider them her kids) had been energetic but well behaved, and eager to learn. She’d found herself wishing she could keep them.

“Have a good summer, Carol,” she said to the squat old woman waddling down the hall toward her.

“You too, sugar,” came the reply. Mary suspected Carol Odeneal called everyone sugar to save the trouble of remembering their names. “But it’s more than summer for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m retiring. This is my last year. Didn’t you know?”

“No. Ohhhh no. I mean, I’m happy for you, but … I’m going to miss you, Carol.” She hugged the old woman tightly. Carol had always been a grandmotherly figure to her.

“I’ll miss you too, sugar. You were one of my favorites.”



Brian finished his coffee, stubbed out his cigarette in the gold foil ashtray, and folded his paper. He glanced at the check, did some quick mental arithmetic, and laid two dollar bills next to the plate of half-eaten cherry pie.

“Was everything ok, sir?” the cashier asked as she rang up the ticket.

“Just peachy, thanks.”

She was cute. A little young for his tastes, maybe. She reminded him of Veronica from the Archie comics. He’d always preferred Veronica to Betty. This girl had an athletic build. Maybe too athletic.

“Come back and see us, hun,” Veronica said.

“I’ll make sure I do,” he said with a grin and a wink. He liked being called hun. Women in Buffalo never did that.

He checked the rearview and put the XJ6 in reverse, backed out onto Concord Street, and headed home. He had taken the afternoon off, so he was going to have to double-time it this evening. If he worked late tonight, got up and started early tomorrow, he should be able to get back on schedule. He had a date tomorrow evening and would be damned if he’d cancel it. He had a feeling about this girl.

Shit! Coffee! He’d brewed the last this morning, and it was going to be a late night. He whipped into the Minit-Mart, and left the car running.

Ruby smiled at him as he entered the store. He knew all the employees at the Minit-Mart’s names, by their nametags. Ruby was his favorite. He particularly liked the way she said, “Have a nice daaaaay.”

He almost tripped over the cat on his way out the door. An orange tabby tom with one ear permanently bent.

“Hey little buddy. You gotta be more careful.”

He scratched the cat between the ears, then under the chin, and was rewarded with a warm purr. No tags. No collar. He stroked down its back, letting it arch to meet his hand. “You need a home, buddy?” Prrrrrrrr. “Let’s take you home and get you something to eat.”


Mary could hear the phone ringing through the door to her apartment as she climbed the wooden steps. She set the groceries by the door, unlocked the door, and ran in to get the cordless before the machine picked up.

“Hi, sweetie. How was your last day of school?”

“Hi mom, it was good. Just a half-day.”

“Your father says ‘hi’, he’s playing golf today. In the rain. He’s the most stubborn man I know. I told him…you’re going to be sick! What do I know?”

Mary suppressed a giggle. Her mother hated to be laughed at. “He’ll be fine, Mom. Rain doesn’t make people sick.”

“Tell that to my brother, Alfie. He died at fourteen from pneumonia after playing in the rain.”

Mary let it go. She loved her mother too much to fight over something meaningless.

“So tell me about this man you’ve met! Your sister told me.”

Gloria! Why do I tell her anything?

“It’s nothing, mom. I haven’t even been out with him, yet. We shared a table at a diner, and he asked me out. That’s it.”

“You don’t have to get defensive, sweetie. I’m happy for you, that’s all. I’ve worried about you since Tom …since the divorce. I just want you to be happy.”

“I want to be happy, too, mom. I didn’t mean to sound defensive.” She wanted to cry. It had been two years since Tom-the-cheating-bastard had left her for Cynthia-with-huge-but-fake-tits, and the wounds were still tender. Not because she missed him, but from the rejection and shame she felt.

“So what’s this mystery man’s name?”

“His name is Brian. Brian Robinson.”




He carried the still-purring tomcat and the coffee into the house, setting the cat on the floor once he’d shut the door.

“You hungry, buddy? Let’s get you something to eat.”

He rummaged through the pantry and found a can of tuna, opened it and dumped the contents into a Fred Flintsone bowl. He could see the cat on the back of the sofa in the TV room, kneading the fabric with its claws.

“Come here, buddy. Good kitty.” He set the bowl down by the glass-top coffee table, and stroked the cat’s orange ant white back as it devoured the tuna from the bowl.

“That’s good, isn’t it? Wait right here, buddy. I’ll be right back.”

Where did I leave that damn thing? The bedroom? He checked, it wasn’t in the bedroom. Wait - I remember seeing it on the dining room table! And it was there.

The cat was still eating when Brian returned. Fred’s left eye had emerged from beneath the tuna. He scratched its head, took aim with the DeWalt cordless nail gun, and nailed the doomed tom’s left rear paw to the oak hardwood floor.

Puh-chunnnkk. Reeeowwwwwerrrrr!!! The cat howled, hissed and scratched at the gun in his hand, its face twisted in a mixture of fear and fury. This one was a fighter…the best kind. Brian moved out of its reach. The tom craned around and began licking frantically at its wounded back paw. Its movements were manic, twitching, and angry and its howl had was now a constant, low siren-wail of a growl.

Brian grinned and gave a satisfied chuckle. “Gotcha, mother****er.”


Mary laid out her clothes for tomorrow. She’d always been the meticulous and organized one. Gloria kept her clothes in a pile in the closet.

She picked up the phone and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Glor. It’s me.” She sat cross-legged on the bed, fiddling with the hem of her jeans.

“Hi, Mary! Tell me, tell me, tell me!” Mary was sure Gloria was bouncing on the sofa.

“We’re going out tomorrow night. Glor, why did you tell mom? “

“Was it a secret?” Gloria was taking the I’m-sorry-please-don’t-yell-at-me tone.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. Fat. I’m getting fat.“Well, it’s just that there’s nothing to… hang on a sec, Glor, I’ve got a call coming in.”

“Want to just call me back? Long distance, y’know.”

“Okay, call you right back.”




“Hello?”

“Mary? Hi, this is Brian. Brian Robinson. How are you?”

“Brian! Hi! I’m fine.”

Brian sat rocking in the wooden chair in the darkness of the screened in porch. A bottle of Budweiser sat at his boot-clad feet, condensation seeping into the porch’s concrete floor.

“Listen, I feel like an idiot having to call and ask you this…did we say seven o’clock or eight?”

He stroked the once-folded cat’s ear between his thumb and index finger. Soft. Like velvet. He’d taken a nasty scratch for his prize. He put the cold beer bottle on the scratch to ease the sting.

“Eight. You said eight. You said you had some writing to catch up on during the day tomorrow.”

“Yeah…well, here’s the thing. I’m back on schedule, I think. Would you have any objection to moving it to seven? We’ll beat the dinner rush, and still have time to catch a late movie, if you want.”

“Sure. Seven’s fine. I get hungry early, anyway.”

He laughed. “Me too…great, that’s great. OK, well, I guess I’ll see you then. Bye-bye.”

“Bye.”

He pocketed the ear, picked up his beer, and took the straight razor from the wicker table. It was going to be a long night. Lots of work to do.




“It was him!”

“No! No way!” Gloria said.

“He’s coming to pick me up at seven instead of eight.”

“Oh Mary, I’m so happy to see you back out there. I’ve worried about you so, so much. That bastard broke your heart, and you deserve so much better…I’m just so happy for you!” Gloria was squealing like a little girl at Christmas.

“Well, let’s not get too excited, Glor. It’s just a first date.”

But despite herself, she was excited too. She’d had butterflies of anticipation all week, and had circled the date on the calendar in the kitchen.

“Oooh – John’s home. Time for dinner and some lovin’. You promise you’ll call me tomorrow night and tell me all about it.” It wasn’t a question.

“I promise.”

“I don’t care how late it is. You call me. Enquiring minds want to know. I love you, big sis.”

“Love you, too.”




The lasagna was delicious, the best she’s had in ages. School cafeteria food was a pale imitation. She loved the atmosphere here. It was dark and romantic; the only light came from the candles on the tables. Oil paintings of far-off places she’d never see decorated the walls. The most romantic place Tom-the-shitheel had ever taken her was Outback.

“So, what do you write?” she said.

“Short stories, mostly. I’ve written three novels, but only one was published. And, frankly, it bombed.”

They both laughed at that.

“What genre?”

“Horror and suspense, mostly,” he replied.

“Oh, you’re one of those!” she said, arching her eyebrows and laughing. She liked him. He was easy to laugh with.

“Yes … I am most certainly one of those.” His grin was coy and charming.

“What brought you to Tennessee?”

“Have you ever been to Buffalo in January? It’s cold! In more ways than one. I like the people here. They’re warmer.”

“I know what you mean. So what do you do for fun?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Mountain climbing. Polo. Serial killing.”

They laughed together.

“You’re so bad!” she said, reaching across the table and giving his hand a playful squeeze. The wine was in her head a bit, and she felt less inhibited.

“Oh, I assure you, you have no idea,” he said, still grinning.

“Do you have family here?”

His grin vanished. “No. My parents…they died.” His eyes left hers, darting to the red tablecloth. “I have a brother in Sacramento…but we don’t talk much any more.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“No, no…it was a long time ago. It’s fine. I’m okay, really.”

And she saw that he was. There was no hurt in his eyes. She was relieved.



He took her hand in his as they stood beneath the restaurant’s awning. She fought the summer breeze that blew her black curls.

“Listen, Mary – I have an idea. Let’s skip the movie. Let’s go back to my place for a drink. I make a mean bloody margarita.”

“Why, Mr. Robinson…are you trying to seduce me?”

He looked perplexed for a moment, then got the reference. “Good one. I love that movie. You know she died last week? Anne Bancroft, I mean.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“So what do you say? It’s only nine o’clock… back to my place for a drink?”

She thought about it. She shouldn’t…she knew. He might have expectations. But he was so sweet. And so funny.

“Okay. But I have to be home by midnight. My fairy godmother told me so,” she said and giggled.

“Did she warn you about the big bad wolf?”

“I think that’s the wrong story,”

“Hmmm. Are you sure about that?” he said.

The valet opened the door of the Jaguar for her and she took her seat. It felt awkward, being in a passenger seat – she always drove since Tom had left.

Brian tipped the valet, hopped in the car, and put on his seat belt.

“So,” he said, tuning the radio, “do you like cats?”

:shkr:

To be honest I hate horror, but since this is a short piece I read it anyway.

Sometimes the breaks between character viewpoints aren't always as clear as they should be when you change scenes. Probably just put another blank line in there to make it obvious we're not just going from one paragraph to the next, but changing scenes.

<i>“I know what you mean. So what do you do for fun?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Mountain climbing. Polo. Serial killing.”

They laughed together.

“You’re so bad!” she said, reaching across the table and giving his hand a playful squeeze. The wine was in her head a bit, and she felt less inhibited.

“Oh, I assure you, you have no idea,” he said, still grinning.

“Do you have family here?”

His grin vanished. “No. My parents…they died.” His eyes left hers, darting to the red tablecloth. “I have a brother in Sacramento…but we don’t talk much any more.”</i>

Different writers, different styles. Were it me I'd remove one of his references to being a murderer. Kind of piles it up a bit much.

Otherwise it's a good piece for this type of story. Gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach so you definitely got me involved.

.....Alan.

sbelew, I am hot a big horror :dvl1: fan but this is interesting.