Halloween 2010 Episode 4: Coffee anyone?

WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ IS:

IRRELIGIOUS, IRREVERENT, AND IRRELEVANT.

THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND EVENTS CONTAINED IN ST MUCKYMUCK ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL.  ANY AND ALL RESEMBLANCES TO REAL PEOPLE, REAL PLACES, AND/OR REAL EVENTS PAST, PRESENT, OR FUTURE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.  

IN FACT, ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYTHING AT ALL WILL BE REMARKABLY COINCIDENTAL.

Thursday 27^th October – St Mocheomoc’s Metropolitan Cathedral Hall – 8.38pm

Shug noticed Emily getting ready to leave. 

Emily was one of his best altos and a very timid, nervous and shy young lady. She said very little, and when she did speak it was in soft, hushed tones which perfectly reflected her gentle personality.

“Sorry Shug,” said Emily nervously. “but I have to go. I’ve completely run out of haggis jam. It’s my husband’s favourite, so I’ll have to go to Kmark in St Bunnicula Square.”

“I’m also meeting an old friend there for coffee in Sam’n’Ella’s late night cafe....she sent me a text message – right out of the blue!”

She continued, “It was rather cryptic. It said, “Sam’n’Ella’s. 9.14pm. Don’t wear your crucifix. Myra”.

“Myra? Myra Dick?” Shug’s blood ran cold at the thought of her. “Are you sure? I didn’t know you two were friends...”

“No, we’re not really” said Emily, “but I think I should go....maybe she’s in trouble.”

“Ok” frowned Shug. “Just you be careful.”

“I will” trilled Emily, her usual sunny smile lighting up her kindly face.

Emily trotted out into the cold night air and hurried to St Bunnicula Square.

As she walked towards Sam’n’Ella’s cafe, she became aware of a dark presence behind her. She pulled her cosy coat collar up around her face and hurried on, glad to see the soft welcoming light of the coffee shop getting closer. She heaved a sigh of relief as she entered the familiar surroundings.

“Hello Myra, is that you?” tinkled Emily, peering into the dimly lit corner booth towards the back door of the cafe. She was glad to see a familiar face.

The cafe was eerily quiet and very cold.

Myra Dick was sitting alone, wearing a long, black, velvet cloak, nursing an extra strong coffee.

“Yes it’s me.” she stated simply. “Come to me, Emily.”

Emily obediently sat at the seat Myra proferred. It was in the darkest, most shadowy part of the cafe.

“I have already ordered coffee for you......a nice, weak, tepid, decaf, skinny latte. That’s your poison isn’t it?” she cackled loudly.

Emily frowned. Myra had changed. There was something menacing and strange about her.  He features were sharper than ever and she had grown a strange knobbly wart on her large, hooked nose.  Her foul, hot breath was in Emily’s face now. Emily was momentarily reminded of the story of Little Red Riding Hood.

Myra pushed the latte glass towards Emily. “Drink it up my dear – it’ll do you good”.

Ever meek and compliant, Emily put the glass to her lips and sipped. “Oh Myra!” she exclaimed. “I don’t think that’s decaf. It’s very bitter”

“Emily...” Myra chided. “Be a good girl and drink up”.

Emily took a deep breath and gulped down the entire contents of the glass in one swallow. She shuddered at the gritty, bitter aftertaste.

She tried to smile at Myra.

“So, Myra. Was there something you wanted....?” Emily started, her voice faltering.  “Ohhhhh, I feel a bit light-headed........” The room was spinning now and Myra’s cackling laughter was echoing and resounding loudly in her head.

“Oh my” she said, clearly confused and evidently weakened. “Myra.....can you help......” Emily’s voice had faded to a whisper and she slumped forward in her chair.

“Senga! Brenda!” hissed Myra. “Now!”

And at that command, two women, both dressed in identical black billowing cloaks appeared from the shadows. They grasped and gripped Emily with their bony, long fingers and roughly bundled her into a brown hessian sack with the words “Lambs For Slaughter – Kilcathclyde Abbatoir” stencilled on the side in black ink.

The small, red-headed woman threw the sack containing the helpless Emily over her shoulder and sneaked hastily out of the side door to a waiting black van. The taller one with the platinum hair flung the back door of the vehicle open and the sack was unceremoniously tossed into the footwell with a dull thud. In a flash the three creatures of the night were in the van, revving the engine.

“Belt up you two!” Myra ordered.

“Don’t you tell us to be quiet. You don’t tell us what to......” ranted the red headed one.

“Put on your seat belts, you imbeciles” interrupted Myra impatiently. “Do you want us to get stopped by the filth?”

“Oh, right. I see.....” the small one’s face was as red as her hair.

Emblazoned on the side of the van were the words “Daughters of Darkness” in large blood red gothic style lettering. Underneath in a much smaller font it read – “Theatrical Lighting Specialists”.

Then in a sudden puff of smoke they vanished into the night, last seen heading for the south east of the river Cathclyde, their satnav set for 666 Covenloch Grove, Overdale East, Kilcathclyde.

©2010 Steven Gorman.  All rights reserved.