Collector (#CoffinHop)

Welcome back! Are you having a beautifully bloody Coffin Hop? I certainly hope so. And I hope you left a comment on the post yesterday to enter my giveaway. Remember, you have the chance to win signed copies of my coming-of-age thriller "PINS" (18+) and my middle-grade spooky story "Play the Way Home (appropriate for all aka the antithesis of "PINS"). You can also win the ebook Collector's Edition of "Death By Drive-In," which is only being distributed during this blog hop.

Today, I'm giving you rockin hoppers a story that I originally wrote at 19 years old. Last year, I gave it much-needed revision, and it transformed from a Lovecraft rip-off called "Gainer's Beast" to this piece of the McHughniverse called "Collector." I hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to leave a comment with your email address and follow my author page at www.facebook.com/author.JessicaMcHugh.



COLLECTOR©2012by Jessica McHugh
All my life, I've been a hunter and collector of fear.
Correction: Before this, I was a hunter and collector of fear. I spent my life searching for evil in its rawest forms, in its most terrifying forms, and collecting fearsome trophies along the way. As someone who didn't scare easily, I found the hobby to be a frolic. But a visit to Gainer's Pass changed my mind. It changed the hunt. It changed me. I'd heard the varied tales of Gainer's Pass for years. The stories spoke of a devil, or sometimes “the Devil," inhabiting the abandoned mansion upon the hill, but no one could describe the creature. The only details about its appearance pertained to the devil's ability to transform into a black fog. The fog would apparently crawl down the mountain and mangle whomever it touched, leaving them deformed but alive. I quickly dismissed that absurdity. The people of Gainer’s Pass were notoriously peculiar, so I couldn't trust much of their claims. I couldn't even trust that Gainer's Beast  really existed, but with the resurgence of “ghost-hunting” and “monster-chasing," I had to try my luck before the fakes got their hands on the big score.The rumors about the townsfolk proved true. The moment I pulled into Gainer's Pass, they peeked through their blinds. It was clearly a common occurrence due to the slats being permanently bent. My headlights seemed to unnerve them and it was obvious why. Those headlights brought uncertainty and threats to their skulking existence. The town was little more than an empty lot surrounded by desolate buildings. Nobody was out, and many of the nearby houses were dark and deteriorating. The naked trees were unnaturally arched and withered, and the bushes were no more than gnarled skeletons. As I walked down the dirt road, the illuminated houses extinguished their lights. When I drew closer, I realized they were more shacks than houses: crudely patched where the paint had chipped to reveal the rotting wood. Passing by, the curtains and blinds were abruptly shut, but I heard the floorboards creak as the inhabitants paced and whispered frantically amongst themselves. Tremendous hills flanked me. Dark and lofty with Gainer's Pass nestled between, the hills were made taller by the structures adorning them. On the left sat the remnants of a church, but I only knew it as such because of the tales. On the right hill sat the most menacing aspect of the whole crumbling town. I was naturally drawn to it. Standing at the bottom of the hill with brown grass knotted over its face, I stared at the stone stairs leading to the house. The steps were so clean. Dead grass was tangled all around them, but not one blade crossed their ivory edges. The house was also terribly clean. It was unnerving to see something so pristine when the rest of the town was in shambles."Hey!" a soft voice called. "Hey, you!"In the house to my right, two eyes peered from between the blinds. The window creaked a bit as it eased open. "Are you talking to me?" I asked and was harshly hushed. "Why are you whispering?""Ssssh!" the voice repeated. The person could have been child or adult, male or female. I couldn't tell, and I had a feeling that's how the stranger wanted it."Do you want to alert the whole town? If you know what's good for you, you'd leave right now.”"Why?" I pressed loudly."SSSH!!! For the love of God, keep your voice down. It's Harvest Night. The Beast stirs," the voice replied, quaking."But that's why I'm here, to see the Beast.”"Are you insane? Look, I know this town is some sort of magnet for you weirdo 'fear-seekers,' but not tonight. Go home. Forget about this place.""Have there been many of these 'fear-seekers'”?"Oh God yes. They used to come in droves. They'd march up to the House of Gainer with dreams in their hearts and rocks in their heads.”"And?""What do you think? They never came back, not a one. The Beast swallowed them whole and spat out the bones when he was done. They're up there, the bones. They're scattered across the yard. I haven't seen them, but others have.”“Who? I'd very much like to speak to them.”“The cemetery is behind the church,” the stranger replied.“Cemetery?”“No one ascends the hill and lives. If the Beast doesn't get them in the house, the fog gets them later.”The voice stopped for a moment, but I heard the whimper in it's pause. “I've said too much. Too much on Harvest Night. It must be my time. The Beast sees and hears all. I will be dead by morning.”“What is the Beast?”“The Devil Himself: protector and destroyer of the selfish and vain.”“I've heard Francesca Gainer was both. She's the one who founded this town, isn't she?” “And the one who destroyed it, the one who doomed us all. She summoned the Devil. She enlisted him to protect her vast fortune and increase it. With the Devil's help she built Gainer's Pass and filled it with beauty and culture. She thought she was in control, but she was only the Devil's plaything. The Beast destroyed her mind, and she destroyed us.”"Why are you all hiding?""Haven't you been listening?" the hushed voice snapped."I understand why you'd hide from the Beast, but why don’t you leave? Why don't you find a town that isn't possessed by a spook story.”"It's not just a story. The Beast is real, and because of Francesca's narcissism, we are tied to this place, tied to her. Forever. All of us share her blood, you know. For over two hundred years, we've only known each other. Bound to each other, bound to the fate Francesca built for us. But you can still escape. Forget this ill-inspired quest and you'll be safe. Go to Francesca Gainer's house and I guarantee the Beast will not make you such an offer."With that, the eyes disappeared from the blinds and the window creaked shut, but the stranger's words didn't budge. I was intrigued as usual, but I had to admit the dread bubbling beneath it. My stomach churned as I gazed up at the house. It was so glorious, so clean. It was hard to believe an atrocious demon lurked behind those marvelous walls. I imagined him dining on fine china and working to keep the place up to his high standards of cleanliness. The thought of the Devil scrubbing the floors and polishing the silver made me chuckle, conquering my dread. After all, was it really possible that  behind those pristine walls resided a demon more terrifying than any I'd encountered before? It was unlikely--and “unlikely” was precisely what drew me into the unknown. I wanted to be proven wrong, especially about Gainer's Beast. It would be the find of a lifetime, that's for damn sure.I started up the ivory stairs with a song on my tongue. The wind whistled along with my tune and I was thankful for the distraction, but when I paused in my song, it continued on without me. From the house it bounced and rolled: the music of a string symphony. It was beautiful. The harmony, the cadence, the penetrating delight: they captured me so completely that before I knew it, I had started running up the steps at full speed.Harvest Night, indeed. Silly superstitions.The music was booming when I hit the last steps. I bound over them and ran to the ivory entrance. The door knocker was a silver angel with its wings spread and its chubby hands filled with a large brass ring. The cherubic face was so detailed it was almost pink with warmth, and as the music swelled, my fingers desperately itched for the brass rang. I rapped it hard against the door and the music increased, drawing me in so intensely that I was literally pressed against it. I was on my toes, prepared to bolt inside when the door was opened. But no one came to open it. I knocked more forcefully and the music drilled itself into my ears. I could nearly feel each violin bow stabbing me in the brain until it was mush. I neglected the knocker and pounded on the door with my fists. When my hands felt like jelly, I opted for my fingernails and clawed at the ivory as I begged in nonsensical shrieks. In desperation, I hurled my shoulder against the door and it flew open with surprising ease. I tumbled to the floor, but I didn't let the shock consume my instinct. I quickly stood and surveyed my surroundings. The music had stopped. Not even an echo lingered. And the interior was not at all what I expected. The walls were paneled in mirrors from the mammoth room in which I stood to the hallways that branched from it. Each mirror was focused on me, each panel holding my reflection and creating hundreds of me, maybe thousands.My brain writhed in my skull, and each reflection seemed to know it. I ran to the door, but I couldn't find it. There were mirrors as far as the eye could see and no discernible exit. I stared at myself, surrounded on all sides by only me. My teeth gnashed and hands shook horribly, but my reflection stood relaxed, smirking. My own face contorted into one of terror when my reflection moved without me. It was just a jerk of the head, but it was followed by a series of disjointed spasms that ended in a grotesque rictus. I screamed as I fell backwards and scurried to find the door, but my reflections stood firm. When I stopped yelling, they continued. Their shrill cries resounded terribly from all directions, crushing me with my own voice. I was forced to the marble floor by the power of the screams, but when they stopped, I still couldn't stand. Not even from fright when my reflections stepped out of the mirrors and left the walls reflecting nothing but an empty room. They walked towards me with their heads twisting, their legs striding rigidly, and their bodies jerking unnaturally from side to side. They encircled me, grinning so forcibly they split my face and cracked my teeth. I tried to scream, but it didn't come out of my mouth. Instead, one of the reflections opened it's bloody jaws and shrieked like a banshee, cracking several mirrors. Just when they were inches from tearing into me, my disfigured clones halted. At first I thought my vision was blurring, but I realized it was them. They blurred as they quaked, and the ring of reflections spun until each entity converged into one gigantic version of me that reached the ceiling. As I cowered at its feet, the giant howled with laughter. The monster ripped out a fistful of hair that I felt tear from my own scalp. Blood oozed down my face as, with shaking fingers, I touched my hand to the bald spot. A few spiky tufts of hair remained, covered with blood and strips of skin. Part of me wished I could see myself in the mirrors; the sight might have been enough to kill my consciousness, but I was frightfully alert. The house shook violently as the reflection bellowed; I thought the building might crash down and end us both, but it wasn't house that split. The monster's scalp split with a wet snap, and from that fissure a jagged line surged down its front. The flaps of skin shed sloppily to the floor, revealing a mammoth beast with flaming eyes and glistening charcoal skin. Its tail sliced the air and cracked like a whip as it roared and sprayed reeking saliva across my face. It slammed its claws against the floor and chunks of marble flew through the air. I heaved a sigh of relief when I ducked in time to avoid a whizzing chunk, but I couldn't sigh long with the Beast's sudden swipe nearly taking off my head. I shivered madly as I scrambled away. I tripped over my feet, falling several times and slamming my chin against the floor. My teeth smashed together on impact and I spat out a stew of blood and tooth. My scalp wept into my eyes until I was running blind, and with the blood quickly filling my throat, I encountered great difficultly tasting air. I threw myself against the wall and cracked the mirror, but that wasn't good enough. I hurtled against the mirror again and again, slicing my body from head to toe, but I was too panicked to feel pain. Even when my skin gave way and the mirror tore my muscle, I pushed myself through the glass, through the stone, and came out the other side as if being forced through a sieve. When I hit the ground, a wad of bloody phlegm shot out of my mouth and air surged sweetly down my throat. I tried to push myself up from the ground, but my right arm was a sack of mashed bone uselessly coiled beneath me. Eventually, I was able to get to my feet. Several of my teeth wiggled as I coughed up more blood; a few of the roots snapped completely, giving my vomit a gritty texture that made me vomit even harder. But I was alive. Maybe I wasn't well, but I was alive. Unfortunately, that fact did not dilute my terror. I may have been alive, but I sure as hell wasn't alone.            Standing before me were the people of Gainer’s Pass. As the moonlight shone through the gnarled trees, the deformed bodies of the townsfolk were even more distorted. Their rigid gaits created jumping shadows, but as terrifying as it was, my own broken gait terrified me more. I stumbled into one of the citizens who flashed a toothless grin as she looked me up and down.“Help me!” I squealed.“Help you? But you're so beautiful,” she cackled and shoved me to the ground. “You're one of those 'fear-seekers', aren't you?”I looked up at her and she smiled sweetly before several of the townspeople grabbed me and dragged me to the nearest house. They lifted me up and held me to the window, but my eyes remained clamped shut.“I suppose you usually collect trophies from your travels. Well, now you have a whopper of one. Open your eyes, collector. This time the trophy is you.”I opened my eyes and screamed at the similar reflections in the window. The men and women, the children, me: we were all monsters. We were all deformed versions of Francesca Gainer, the Devil's plaything. I smashed my fist against the window, cracking the glass to pieces and the townsfolk into laughter. I pushed past them toward my car. I had difficultly opening the door and turning the key, but the hardest thing to do was avoid looking in the mirror. I sped out of town, only once glancing in the rear view. I was able to look beyond my monstrosity and see Gainer's Pass shrinking behind me, but the black fog pouring down the hill remained large and menacing, even as the town was miles behind.I'm safe now, but I'm not sound. Even after covering and scratching every reflective surface in my house opaque, I can't avoid what I've become. Nor can I avoid what I might have to do. I may not be able to see myself, but I can still see the Beast. Dressed in black fog, he crawls ever closer. With music and laughter, he coaxes me out into the mist, but he doesn't want to kill me here. He wants to take me home and plant me with the others on the hill. As I wanted him, he wants me for his collection.My left hand isn't the dominant one, but I'm pretty sure I could hit my target. The question is, can I end myself before the Beast closes in? Can I ignore the Devil's call? It's his Harvest Night. He wants more playthings. He wants more trophies. He wants me to put the gun down and come outside. My left hand has never been the steady one, but it will get the job done.
THE END

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