Halloween Horror

Turn the lights down low and pull up a chair. I have prepared for you this chilling tale for Halloween; do not read it if you are faint-hearted for in it is a horror of which many cannot bring themselves to speak...

The Journey

The battering rain sluiced from his windscreen as the wipers danced. James knew nothing of his Father's mind these days, but it was important. How often had he invited him in the past? How often had it been Monopoly or Cluedo? The trouble was he still thought of James as that small child, playing in front of the hearth with his small friends at Ludo or Snakes & Ladders.

"It's all his fault." James continued to remind himself of father's departure all those years ago, and how he needed something to fill the void. Playing games had helped a lot; the sociability of role-play, the conflict of wargames and now as a man the challenge of the modern boardgame.

The call had come earlier in the week, out of the blue after all these years. "I know how much you like to play games Son; I thought you might like to come around and join our little, erm, group for the evening."

"But Father, it's been so long. I haven't seen you in years."

"I thought this would be the best way to break bread together; over a game I know you will like. I took a leaf from your book some time ago and we've been getting together weekly ever since. You remember Timothy and Freda?"

"The woman you had the affair with!"

"Water under the bridge, Son; let's let bygones be bygones hey?"

"What does Tim think?"

"Tim has changed. The game; it changed him."

James had been left intrigued; enough to accept his father's invitation. What kind of game could change a man? Or at least what sort of game had eliminated the hatred he saw in Timothy's eyes all those years ago when Father's intimate games had been discovered? Although he was younger he remembered vividly.

"We were just about to start a game of Draughts, Timmy" he had overheard her say, "but we're quite happy to join you in a game of Ker-Plunk." Both Timothy and James could see her copy of Mastermind peeking out of the bag and both knew something more than a quiet game of Draughts had been going on. Even at his small age, James knew men just didn't play that sort of game with women - especially other men's wives.

There were sprays and thumps beneath his car as turned up the dark, lightless country lane. "Why on Earth did Father move so far from town?" It wouldn't be long now and he would be able to rest a little, to relax over a game and in all hope to put aside his grievances. As he meandered through the wooded grounds something flashed past the front of his car. He kicked at the brakes. His tyres lost their hold. His car twisted like an Age of Steam link, and froze. The stag leapt frightened into the treeline. Composing himself, he started up the car and drove cautiously into the blackness.

He reached the old cottage, his father's home. The place was almost in darkness; just one window was illuminated. He pulled the old bell cord, and a moment later heard a tinkle somewhere inside. The door creaked open; he was greeted by a stooped, drooling figure holding a candle. The face looked somewhat familiar, but this haggard beast was certainly nobody he knew. It spoke;

"This waaay. They're waaaiting." James followed it's hump through the door and into the poorly lit passage. A door opened before them, creaking like the door of an ancient crypt. He followed into a well-lit room and there, at the table, was Father.

"Who is this?" James indicated the thing that had led him in.

"You've met Timothy, I know the game's changed him but surely you recognised him," the woman sat opposite father stated. It was her. James suppressed his pang of hatred.

"Hello Freda, how are you?" He wasn't really interested and she could tell - or she didn't care. James took the third seat while his father shuffled a deck. The door creaked shut behind; with Timothy out of the room it was time to ask them. "What game could possibly change a man into something so - hideous?"

Father finished shuffling, "This one of course; you draw one and play one. Keepers have green edges and go in front of you. Goals are pink and go here, replacing any current goal. New rules have yellow edges and are placed here..."

His chair crashed against the wall behind. The sweat started to pour. His scream was choked in his throat as he ran for the door. The door would not move. His father's eyes darkened, "Come on son; draw one, play one; draw one, play one...