Halloween Decorations.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


Seasonal tales from beyond the shadows..

Submitted: October 28, 2017

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Submitted: October 28, 2017

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The decomposing corpse that hung from the gibbet, swung slowly in the light breeze, the rope suspending the body making an eerie creaky noise. Martha Greeves looked at her handiwork with a smug grin, the atrocity that hung before her had been insanely expensive, but she could afford it.  She would bankrupt the family rather than lose the best decorated house trophy; she had won it every year since moving into the estate. Not a Halloween or Christmas had passed in the last five years, that she had not spent a king’s ransom on decorations for her house. Oh! She had heard the snide comments from her snooty neighbours regarding her extravagant decorations, some had even gone so far as to say they were gaudy and lowered the tone of the neighbourhood. But they were just jealous; Hubert and she may not have attended the same Ivy League colleges as her neighbours. But her husband had made plenty of bucks in the real estate business, money she was not afraid to spend on her favourite past time.

It was still only the end of September but Martha liked to start decorating early, by the time Halloween came around her house would look like a scene form a horror movie. Witches, goblins, ghouls and zombies would adorn every available space on the exterior of her house. She would retain the trophy again this year without a shadow of a doubt, and then her big mouthed neighbours could kiss her fat ass. Standing further back she continued to admire her latest decoration, it was terrifyingly real looking. A couple of her neighbours walked by with their slim figures and designer clothes, their shocked and horrified expressions on seeing the gibbet and its contents brought a warm feeling of satisfaction to Martha. By the time she was finished her snobby neighbours would be peeing in their designer underwear whenever they passed her house. Taking one last admiring look at her new decoration, Martha hurried inside she needed to get rid of the packaging and invoice before Hubert got home. Hubert’s constant moaning about the amount she was spending on decorations was the only negative thing about this time of year.

Martha waited until Hubert was in the shower, and then slipped out to intercept the postman. By the time her husband came down for breakfast she had already hidden the credit card statement, once he had left she opened the envelope. The expression on Martha’s face was every bit as horrified as her neighbours had been, when they saw her swinging corpse decoration; Hubert would throw a fit when he saw how much she had spent so far on her house decorations. Even by her own standard she had gone way overboard already and it was still two weeks until Halloween, this would not bode well for her Christmas decorating. Hubert had threatened to cancel her credit cards before, if she did not reign in her spending on decorations. Putting the whole thing to the back of her mind Martha stuffed the credit card statement under the cushion of the fireside chair. She had decided she was not going to let this get her down, she would find some way to get around Hubert once Halloween was over. She might even succumb to his more degenerate desires in the bedroom that usually worked and kept him sweet for a while.

Martha filled the back seat and trunk of her car with her latest purchases, one look at the receipt told her that things on the credit front had taken even more of a turn for the worst. Shrugging her shoulders she crumpled the receipt into a ball and dropped it in the car park of the shopping mall. The thoughts of what she would have to endure over this, at the hands of her husband were far from pretty, but she was willing to suffer for her art. She slowed the car to a snail’s pace once she entered her own neighbourhood, kerb crawling as she studied the decorations some of her neighbours had begun to put up. By and large she did not see anything that unduly worried her, not much competition again this year. She would sail into first place as usual; those that had made any kind of effort were still dismal compared to her display. That was until she reached the next street down from hers, it was dusk by now and one of the houses stood out like a beacon. Martha slammed on the brakes outside the lit up house, the stack of parcels on the backseat came crashing down. That bitch Marci Williams had really laid down a challenge this year, a red mist settled over Martha’s mind as she gawped at Marci’s decorations.

That stuck up cow Marci Williams had really pushed the boat out this year, she had easily matched if not surpassed Martha in the spending on elaborate decorations. Martha always knew that bitch secretly hated and was jealous of her, and here was the proof of it. That skinny bitch was doing her best to take Martha’s title and trophy. What infuriated Martha even more was to see Marci’s husband climbing a ladder to hang even more decorations from the eve of the house. In all the years Martha had been decorating her home, that lazy tight fisted bastard Hubert had never once offered to help. Instead he would rather stand around and whinge like a bitch about the cost; she sometimes wondered why she ever married that useless creep. She was beside herself now with rage and stamped on the accelerator, leaving the spot with the sound of screeching tires and the smell of burning rubber. By the time she reached home a cold anger had settle in the pit of her stomach, when she walked in and found Hubert standing in the centre of the living room holding the credit card receipt, that cold feeling intensified.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind a switch was suddenly thrown, that switch muted the voice of her ranting husband. She could see his mouth moving and feel the spittle spraying on her face, but there was no sound despite the fact his angry face was only inches from hers. Every now and again he would shove the credit card receipt nearer her eyes; Martha stood calmly watching his outburst. At least outwardly she appeared calm, however in her mind the image of Marci Williams decorated house and her husband climbing the ladder played over and over in a loop. Now and again this scene would be replaced by Marci and her husband sipping expensive wine and laughing about her, sneering at fat Martha’s efforts at Halloween decorations. She would bet her life that skinny bitch Marci would not be forced to endure depraved and degrading acts in the bedroom, just so as she could buy some decorations. That cold anger in her stomach had slowly begun to warm, and quickly it was becoming a bubbling cauldron of red hot rage. Before long even the image of that pervert Hubert ranting in her face disappeared, it was replaced by a crimson mist that hid everything but her anger.

Martha worked diligently despite the fact she was exhausted, the hardwood floor had become treacherous under foot. The perspiration streaming from her naked body adding to the slippery conditions, it was four A.M. but there would be no sleep for her tonight. Martha needed to work through the night, if her latest addition to the decorations were to be ready by daylight. She wanted to have it hanging in the porch when Marci and her snooty friends passed on their morning jog, this would be her pièce de résistance and the defining moment in the competition.

 The burning rage had all but abated now, leaving her calm but determined. The grey light of dawn was just appearing when she finally completed her master piece, even with all the trimming she had done the piece was still almost too heavy for her to put in place. However the sheer determination to beat Marci to first place, gave her added strength. The new day was upon her by the time she had driven the last nail in the clapboard wall of the porch. Standing back she admired her handiwork, she had to admit Hubert’s flayed and eviscerated carcass did look horrifying. The screams coming from behind her, told her that her new decoration had the desired effect on Marci.

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2018 Patrick G Moloney. All rights reserved.

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