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“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.” - Edgar Allan Poe |
The Beasts by Stu Leventhal
He had to smirk at his predicament. It was like so many movies; The hunted standing at the edge of a cliff, out of breath, hands on knees, looking out at the great expanse of wasteland before him. What a view! Spectacular, if you could block out the image of your imminent future being dashed into a million pieces, as you fell over 100 feet and bounced off the jagged rocks below! If it had only been other circumstances, he thought. He straightened up tall then gazed back the way he had come.
He saw his boot prints in the sandy gravel, their trail leading out of the trees towards him. He heard the sounds crashing through the shrubbery and the howling. It would not be long.
He pulled a half smoked cigarette out from behind his right ear and a pack of matches out of his left pants pocket. Well, there was one thing his Mother was wrong about. Smoking wasn’t going to kill him someday. Smoking worked too slowly.
The first beast leaped out of the bushes dragging clinging vines, leaves and branches with him. He was slightly bigger than most of the creatures Devon had squared off against in the past few hours, which, probably, explained why he was ahead of the pack. The Monster skidded to a halt sending up a cloud of dust. It growled showing its spike like, upper fangs and sharp pointy row of bottom teeth. Its beady little eyes glowed from inside all that long, curly, golden, tangled, facial hair. His front claw scratched the ground like a bull getting ready to charge. His big nostrils snorted like a bull too.
“Come on you big slob!” Devon pulled his long bladed knife out of its sheaf. He took one last suck on the cigarette then dropped the smoke. “Well! What are you waiting for? Don’t have the guts to try me yourself?” Devon pounded his chest with his fist.
The big beast snorted then took two cautious steps closer. “That’s it. Come to Poppa, big boy!” The creature roared like a lion then charged.
Devon knelt down then scooped up a handful of loose sand and gravel. He stood up tall, giving his attacker a large target. As the creature leaped, claws extended, Devon tossed the sand and gravel into its eyes then dove under the flying monster's sharp claws. The monster landed past Devon with a thud, sliding to the edge of the cliff. It turned around to see Devon log rolling towards it. It stood up on its hind paws, growled then leaped, like a tiger, at the rolling Devon.
Devon kicked up with both boots catching the monster in the chest, flinging him backwards off the cliff. Lying on his back, catching his breath, Devon noticed both his pants legs had been sliced open by the creature’s sharp claws. “GROWL!” Came from behind him. Devon quickly rolled onto his belly lifting his head up to see three more of the hairy beasts staring at him with their red glowing eyes. Devon pressed up, onto his hands and knees then slowly crawled backwards to the very edge of the cliff. The creatures spread out, before slowly starting to approach him.
“Come on!” Devon slashed the air with his long bladed knife. But these monsters must have witnessed their comrade’s demise. They weren’t in any rush. They had their quarry right where they wanted Devon, cornered. Monster reinforcements were coming and Time was on their side.
Devon stooped down, this time, instead of sand he picked up a golf ball size rock. He stood up then snarled, eyeing the biggest growling, slobbering monster. He drew his arm back then threw the rock at the creature. Smack! The rock bounced off the creature’s hairy forehead. RRRRRRAAAAHHHH!!!!...The creature roared. As if he had sounded the bugle, giving the command, all three monsters charged.
Devon reached inside his jacket to his pocket. He pulled out a hand-grenade then pulled the pin. He rolled the grenade towards the charging monsters then stepped backwards off the cliff. As he fell, both of Devon’s hands reached out to grasped a handful of shrubbery that he had previously seen growing out of the side of the mountain. Thud! The shrubs swung Devon’s body into the hard side of the mountain wall. BBBOOOMM! Chunks of monster fur and gravel rained down on Devon’s head and shoulders as he clung to the side of the mountain. Devon hung on tightly to the shrubs amazed and thankful that they had held his heavy weight. His boots dangled, kicking in midair.
Devon pulled his legs up then kicked the tips of his boots into the hard rock wall. He scraped his boot tips along the mountain side until they grasped ahold. Slowly he climbed the shrubbery, pulling and clawing his way up the mountainside. As he pulled himself back onto the cliff ledge he heard the growls. Looking towards the woods, Devon was startled to see at least fifty hairy monsters at the forest edge, their red glowing sets of eyes staring at him. He climbed onto the ledge on his hands and knees.
There were puffs of monster fur, chunks of monster flesh and monster body parts scattered all around him. Devon struggled to his feet as a few more monsters joined the ranks in front of him. Devon bent down, his hand grasped a handful of bloody monster hair. He lifted the decapitated head of a monster up high into the air. He swung the monster head around and around, laughing like a demon then tossed the head at the gathering group of monsters. Before the head even touched the ground, the monsters charged. Reaching into his inside jacket pockets Devon pulled out a hand-grenade in each hand. As he ran toward the charging monsters, Devon used his teeth to pull the pins out of the grenades.
The monsters converged on Devon from all sides, diving over each other to get their claws into him. Thirsty for blood, they piled on top of one another, wrestling for a bite of prey. BBBOOOOOMMMM!!!!...The two grenades exploded setting off the other five grenades in Devon’s jacket pockets. BBBOOOOOMMMM!!!!....
From their perch high up in a tree about 200 yards away, Devon’s ten year old son Tweo and eighteen year old daughter Simmy clung to one another as they watched the small mushroom like cloud of monster fur and dust hover in the air. Tears ran down their cheeks and their bodies convulsed as they tried to stifle each other’s sobs. It took a good fifteen minutes for the dust to settle enough for Devon’s two siblings to be able to view the scene clearly.
There were piles of dead, bloody monsters everywhere. If there had been any surviving monsters, the explosion had scared them away. Tweo wanted to go look for their Dad’s body but his older sister was wise enough not to let him. She knew, what wasn’t disintegrated would not be a nice sight for her younger brother to deal with. “Well,” The boy shivered, as he looked at his sister questioningly. “What are we going to do?”
“Dad would want us to go to the fort.” She started to help her brother slide down the tree trunk.
“I want to go home!”
“We have no home, Tweo. The monsters destroyed it.”
“But?...”
“We need to go to the fort. It’s the only place safe now. We have to tell others what happened here. So they know our Dad was a hero.”
He saw his boot prints in the sandy gravel, their trail leading out of the trees towards him. He heard the sounds crashing through the shrubbery and the howling. It would not be long.
He pulled a half smoked cigarette out from behind his right ear and a pack of matches out of his left pants pocket. Well, there was one thing his Mother was wrong about. Smoking wasn’t going to kill him someday. Smoking worked too slowly.
The first beast leaped out of the bushes dragging clinging vines, leaves and branches with him. He was slightly bigger than most of the creatures Devon had squared off against in the past few hours, which, probably, explained why he was ahead of the pack. The Monster skidded to a halt sending up a cloud of dust. It growled showing its spike like, upper fangs and sharp pointy row of bottom teeth. Its beady little eyes glowed from inside all that long, curly, golden, tangled, facial hair. His front claw scratched the ground like a bull getting ready to charge. His big nostrils snorted like a bull too.
“Come on you big slob!” Devon pulled his long bladed knife out of its sheaf. He took one last suck on the cigarette then dropped the smoke. “Well! What are you waiting for? Don’t have the guts to try me yourself?” Devon pounded his chest with his fist.
The big beast snorted then took two cautious steps closer. “That’s it. Come to Poppa, big boy!” The creature roared like a lion then charged.
Devon knelt down then scooped up a handful of loose sand and gravel. He stood up tall, giving his attacker a large target. As the creature leaped, claws extended, Devon tossed the sand and gravel into its eyes then dove under the flying monster's sharp claws. The monster landed past Devon with a thud, sliding to the edge of the cliff. It turned around to see Devon log rolling towards it. It stood up on its hind paws, growled then leaped, like a tiger, at the rolling Devon.
Devon kicked up with both boots catching the monster in the chest, flinging him backwards off the cliff. Lying on his back, catching his breath, Devon noticed both his pants legs had been sliced open by the creature’s sharp claws. “GROWL!” Came from behind him. Devon quickly rolled onto his belly lifting his head up to see three more of the hairy beasts staring at him with their red glowing eyes. Devon pressed up, onto his hands and knees then slowly crawled backwards to the very edge of the cliff. The creatures spread out, before slowly starting to approach him.
“Come on!” Devon slashed the air with his long bladed knife. But these monsters must have witnessed their comrade’s demise. They weren’t in any rush. They had their quarry right where they wanted Devon, cornered. Monster reinforcements were coming and Time was on their side.
Devon stooped down, this time, instead of sand he picked up a golf ball size rock. He stood up then snarled, eyeing the biggest growling, slobbering monster. He drew his arm back then threw the rock at the creature. Smack! The rock bounced off the creature’s hairy forehead. RRRRRRAAAAHHHH!!!!...The creature roared. As if he had sounded the bugle, giving the command, all three monsters charged.
Devon reached inside his jacket to his pocket. He pulled out a hand-grenade then pulled the pin. He rolled the grenade towards the charging monsters then stepped backwards off the cliff. As he fell, both of Devon’s hands reached out to grasped a handful of shrubbery that he had previously seen growing out of the side of the mountain. Thud! The shrubs swung Devon’s body into the hard side of the mountain wall. BBBOOOMM! Chunks of monster fur and gravel rained down on Devon’s head and shoulders as he clung to the side of the mountain. Devon hung on tightly to the shrubs amazed and thankful that they had held his heavy weight. His boots dangled, kicking in midair.
Devon pulled his legs up then kicked the tips of his boots into the hard rock wall. He scraped his boot tips along the mountain side until they grasped ahold. Slowly he climbed the shrubbery, pulling and clawing his way up the mountainside. As he pulled himself back onto the cliff ledge he heard the growls. Looking towards the woods, Devon was startled to see at least fifty hairy monsters at the forest edge, their red glowing sets of eyes staring at him. He climbed onto the ledge on his hands and knees.
There were puffs of monster fur, chunks of monster flesh and monster body parts scattered all around him. Devon struggled to his feet as a few more monsters joined the ranks in front of him. Devon bent down, his hand grasped a handful of bloody monster hair. He lifted the decapitated head of a monster up high into the air. He swung the monster head around and around, laughing like a demon then tossed the head at the gathering group of monsters. Before the head even touched the ground, the monsters charged. Reaching into his inside jacket pockets Devon pulled out a hand-grenade in each hand. As he ran toward the charging monsters, Devon used his teeth to pull the pins out of the grenades.
The monsters converged on Devon from all sides, diving over each other to get their claws into him. Thirsty for blood, they piled on top of one another, wrestling for a bite of prey. BBBOOOOOMMMM!!!!...The two grenades exploded setting off the other five grenades in Devon’s jacket pockets. BBBOOOOOMMMM!!!!....
From their perch high up in a tree about 200 yards away, Devon’s ten year old son Tweo and eighteen year old daughter Simmy clung to one another as they watched the small mushroom like cloud of monster fur and dust hover in the air. Tears ran down their cheeks and their bodies convulsed as they tried to stifle each other’s sobs. It took a good fifteen minutes for the dust to settle enough for Devon’s two siblings to be able to view the scene clearly.
There were piles of dead, bloody monsters everywhere. If there had been any surviving monsters, the explosion had scared them away. Tweo wanted to go look for their Dad’s body but his older sister was wise enough not to let him. She knew, what wasn’t disintegrated would not be a nice sight for her younger brother to deal with. “Well,” The boy shivered, as he looked at his sister questioningly. “What are we going to do?”
“Dad would want us to go to the fort.” She started to help her brother slide down the tree trunk.
“I want to go home!”
“We have no home, Tweo. The monsters destroyed it.”
“But?...”
“We need to go to the fort. It’s the only place safe now. We have to tell others what happened here. So they know our Dad was a hero.”
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The Last Request by Stu Leventhal
"May day, May day!"
“May day, may day!” The distress call radiated through the speakers in the ceiling, Mary’s computer screen flashed bright red, logging the call at thirteen minutes after midnight. “We’re taking on water, fast!” The agitated male voice informed. “I’ve lost all ability to steer! We’re at the mercy of the ocean now! The waves are just batting us around like a ping pong ball!”
"May Day!...Can anybody hear me?!...MAY DAY!!"
"May Day!...Can anybody hear me?!...MAY DAY!!"
“I got nothing on the radar screen.” Darell looked over his shoulder at his boss. “We’re not picking up any boats in that area?” SPLATT! The wind blasted the rain hard against the window behind Darell, making him flinch.
“May Day! Help us someone! Anyone!...” Mary looked helplessly over her shoulder at her young, African American radio technician then turned back to grasp her microphone.
“Sir, stay calm.” Mary’s spit sprayed the microphone, bent in front of her mouth. “Give me your coordinates again.”
“This is Gage Hopler, I’m Skipper of the Orange Blossom. We were cruising about 1 mile off of Coral Reef Bluff. Our boat hit something floating in the water, We have a huge hole in our hull. I’m afraid we’re going down fast. Tell my wife, Genevieve I love her.” Tttttthhh…static.
“No!” Mary tapped her microphone with her finger tips. “Don’t leave me yet!” She glanced back over her shoulder at the young agitated Darell. “Tell me you got their coordinates!....Darell?”
“I got nothing!” The young man stared at Mary wide eyed.
“Then we’ve lost them!” Mary tapped her microphone. “Come in Orange Blossom!...Come in please!…”
Ttttthhh…static. “
“Shouldn’t we send a search and rescue chopper out to the area to look around?”
“We can’t risk sending anyone out in this weather. Not without first verifying it was a legitimate call and being sure of the coordinates.”
“He said he was sinking off Coral Bluff. You think that was a hoax? Like kids fooling around over the radio?” He shook his head. “It sure sounded real to me.”
“Me too.” She shrugged. “But regulations are regulations. And, since you got nothing on radar.” She scratched her forehead. “Ah, screw regulations!” She twisted the dials on her microphone. “I’m going to call Clifton Search and Rescue to see if they can get a chopper up in the air to take a look around out there by the Bluff.”
“Mary what was the name of the boat again?” Lieutenant Dick Franklin of Clifton Search and Rescue’s asked, his voice crackling through the speakers.
“The Orange Blossom Sir.” She leaned in close to the microphone to inform. “And, the skipper’s name is Gabe Hoppler.”
“His wife’s name is Genevieve…” Lieutenant Dick Franklin informed solemnly.
“Yes. He told me to tell Genevieve he loved her, right before we lost contact.” Mary confirmed. “But, how did you know that Sir. Do you know the Hopplers?”
“I know Genevieve, she’s my wife. Gabe Hoppler, her ex, has been dead for twenty five years!”
“Did Gabe have a son he named after himself, Gabe? Or perhaps there’s a cousin or nephew named Gabe?”
“They didn’t have any kids. And as far as I know there’s no one else in their family, sharing the name, Gabe.”
“Is it possible there is another Gabe Hoppler totally not related to your wife’s family?”
“Don’t mess with me Mary!”
“Pardon, Sir?...”
“Did Parker put you up to this?!”
“Up to what Sir? Are you going to send out a chopper? Time could be of the essence!”
“It was twenty five years ago today, my first day on the job with the coast guard. The weather was nasty, mean just like tonight’s. We were all playing cards, thinking it was going to be a quiet day. No one would be stupid enough to get caught out at sea in this gale. At about a quarter after midnight we got the same distress call you just described to me. “May day! May day! This is Dave Hoppler of the Orange Blossom, we’re going down somewhere off of Coral Bluff! Tell my wife Genevieve, I love her. I was only nineteen and it was the saddest thing I’d ever heard. Because, as much as we all wanted to go, there was no way we could get the choppers off the ground in those winds and with that amount of rain coming down.”
“I almost quit the coast guard that first night. The next day we found out through searching the dock records that Gabe Hopper had a crew of five local men, all experienced boaters. They all went missing. Not a trace of any of them or even a splinter of their ship was ever found. We searched for days, during which I got to know Genevieve, who had lost her husband and a brother to that storm, when it took the Orange Blossom. After the search was called off, I didn’t see Genevieve for about four years. Then, on a sunny Fourth of July afternoon, I ran into her at a Blue Grass concert. We enjoyed the music for a while. I bought us both a few beers then we ended up talking all night until the fireworks started blasting off and we realized we’d just spent a very enjoyable, close to, eight hours together. I asked her out on a date for later the next week and we got hitched about a year later. I won’t bore you with all my personal history but me and Jenny have two grown kids.”
“Sir, I have no idea what…”
“Mary, I don’t blame you. Just tell whoever put you up to this. They have a sick sense of humor!”
“Sir, I don’t know who’s responsible but I’m going to ring their neck when I find out. The call came through as a real call over the wire. It’s recorded in our records if you want to come listen to it some time. Maybe you will recognize the voice of the prankster. We should have known it was a hoax, when we couldn’t find any vessels near Coral Bluff on our radar screen. I’ll make sure nothing like this ever happens again, Sir. I’m very sorry. And, uh…give my regards to the missis.”
But it did happen again, about a month later, during another fierce overnight storm. Mary wasn’t on duty that night a new girl named Laura Lee was manning the radio waves. Laura Lee had been warned to watch out for the prank caller so the Lieutenant didn’t find out about this call until the next distress call came in just a few months later. Mary headed off this call by laying in to the caller, stressing how serious a violation of law it was to make phony calls for help. “We need this line clear for real emergencies! Do you realize someone could be serious hurt or killed trying to rescue a boat that was never sinking! A boat that doesn’t exist!”
The caller ignored Mary and kept repeating. “Tell my Genevieve, I love her!”
Three more times that year, during every serious overnight storm, the phony distress call, from the Skipper of the Orange Blossom was broadcasted and received. One afternoon, in late July, a thunder and lightning storm erupted that was particularly loud and intimidating. The storm was predicted to rage on through the night. Mary’s thoughts drifted to the phantom prank distress caller since this was just the type of weather that prompted his prank calls. Suddenly Mary had a fleeting idea. As she moved to the phone, she suddenly realized the temperature in the room had dropped considerably, at least ten degrees. She made a mental note to check the heater thermostat as she dialed Lieutenant Franklin to ask him a strange question. “Sir, do you know if anyone ever told your wife, Genevieve what her ex-husband Gabe had requested as his last words.”
“What are you suggesting Mary, that your prank caller is my wife’s ex-husband’s ghost?”
“I know it sounds weird Sir but…”
“I told you back then I was only a Rookie with the Coast Guard. I wasn’t privy to what info the Coast Guard was releasing to a family member of a storm victim. I always assumed she was told the Skipper’s last words.”
“Assumed?”
“I haven’t told my wife about the prank distress calls you’re department’s been receiving because I don’t want Jen to have to dig up those awful memories of losing a husband and a brother. To this day, whenever there’s a really harsh rain storm Jenny still gets very distant and withdrawn.”
“Sir… maybe she would feel better if she knew her late husband’s last request was, [“Tell my wife Genevieve I love her?” over and over.]”
“Uh…” The Lieutenant lamented. “She’s my Genevieve now! Do you really want me to ask my wife, [“Dear, twenty five years ago, did anyone ever tell you what your first husband’s actual last words were?”]
“Don’t you think she deserves to know?...Sir?” He hung up, slamming the phone down. Mary hung her phone up then walked to the window. She saw the rain streaking down the glass. Through the streaked glass she watched the waves crashing on the beach then rolling up violently toward the boardwalk.
About two hours later, Mary received a phone call. “I told my wife.” Lieutenant Franklin informed. “Genevieve…Jen says, she never knew about her ex’s intended message.” As Mary hung up she realized the rain had ceased banging against the window pane. She walked across the room then gazed outside at the flickering, beginning of a rainbow. The distress calls stopped coming.
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