Free Necro Files: Two Decades of Extreme Horror by Cheryl Mullenax (Ed) Page A

soul that lies decaying within.
    You see, perversity is my forte.
    It is normality that drives me insane.
    * * *
    August 29
    My parents didn’t tell me for a very long time that I once had a twin brother. When they did, they only said that he had died shortly after birth. I knew they were concealing all the gory details. Eventually, they told me the whole story … and, boy, was it a doozy!
    It seems that there were once twin brothers named Jerry and Jamie. Shortly after their arrival home from the hospital, Mom and Dad went out for a night on the town, leaving the little ones in the care of teenaged babysitter Caroline. An hour later, Caroline’s beatnik boyfriend, Rodney, showed up with a big bag of goodies. There was much drinking and pot smoking and airplane glue sniffing. Soon, Caroline and Rodney had gotten wildly high and thought it would be incredibly funny to put little Jamie in the kitchen oven. They chug-a-lugged vodka and reds as they turned the flame to the max and cooked the squawling infant like a meatloaf.
    Supposedly, I witnessed the whole thing, but I don’t remember. Hell, I was only three months old at the time.
    Those freaking junkheads had the right idea, but they made one mistake.
    They baked the wrong gingerbread boy.
    * * *
    September 5
    How about a nice bedtime story?
    Once upon a time there was a clean-cut, All-American family. They never fought with one another, they attended church regularly, and lived by the Golden Rule. They lived in a cozy, suburban home, drove a Volvo, and sent their children to public school … just like those perfect television families of the fifties and sixties—the Nelsons, the Cleavers, the Brady Bunch.
    One summer, this family decided to take a trip to Smoky Mountain National Park. They took snapshots of the sights, watched the Cherokee Indians do their rain dance, and found a secluded campsite so they could commune with nature and enjoy the great outdoors. They sang songs, roasted marshmallows over the campfire, and swapped ghost stories. They had a wonderful time.
    Then the man showed up out of nowhere, wearing a friendly smile and a stolen park ranger’s uniform.
    * * *
    September 12
    When I was six years old, I would visit my grandmother. She had this sweet, little canary named Penny. Penny would fly right out of its cage in the corner of Grandmother’s sewing room and land in the palm of your hand. It would sit perfectly still and sing you the most beautiful song.
    One day, while Grandmother was out working in her flower garden, I slipped into the sewing room and opened Penny’s door. It flew out of its cage and lit lightly in my hand.
    “Sing me a song, Penny,” I said, but it remained silent.
    I took a straight pin from Grandmother’s sewing basket and shoved it into Penny’s little, black eye. It pierced the bird’s tiny brain and emerged out the other side.
    Penny sang me a song then, a very loud and frantic song … but not for very long.
    * * *
    September 23
    Bedtime story. Part Two.
    The park ranger said hello, sat down beside the fire, and drank a cup of coffee offered to him. As pleasant conversation was exchanged, he studied the All-American family. Father, mother, gray-haired grandmother, and two children, a boy and a girl. He enjoyed their company for a while, as long as he could possibly stand it. And then that damned urge crept into his demented mind …
    * * *
    October 7
    They sent me to reform school when I was seventeen for cutting off my girlfriend’s breasts with a pocket knife. After all these years, I still haven’t figured out what my true motive had been. Maybe someday I’ll call her up at the state asylum and ask her if she remembers why I did such a horrible thing.
    * * *
    October 14
    Bedtime story. Part Three.
    Father went first.
    The friendly park ranger took a hunting knife from his belt and, with an upward thrust, drove the point up under Father’s jaw. The razor-honed blade sliced effortlessly up through his tongue, the