The End #Storytime

October 30, 2025JT Twissel 10 Comments

Daniel knew that his boss would hate to see him go. Unlike the other men who came and went from the service station, Daniel was courteous, didn’t smoke, and helped with the bookkeeping. But the boss had mentioned retirement on many occasions and so perhaps Daniel’s leaving would provide the impetus to take that step. That would be a good thing; a happy conclusion.

“Mr. B, it’s time for me to go,” Daniel said. “I’ve seen it, you know, sailing through the fog. The winos were right. It has returned.”

But his boss didn’t seem to be listening. “What are those stupid girls doing now? They’re going get themselves killed!” He was referring to the three girls from Nevada, who, loaded down with their things, were heading toward their funny little car. Remarkably, it had survived a night on the streets of lower Manhattan. Probably because it was a foreign job whose ancient parts weren’t worth crap.

“It’s all right, Mr. B. They’re leaving. Marcia talked them into going to an uncle’s house where …”

“Shit, not that asshole!” A vagabond known for aggressive panhandling had jumped out of the shadows and was blocking the girls’ path.

“Stay here, Mr. B. I’ll take care of him!” Daniel grabbed the broom from the garage and ran across the street swinging. “Get out of here,” he said swatting at the man with his broom.

The man looked around confused, “What the hell?” Then he took the spare change that one of the girls offered him and walked away.

“Oh no,” the Catholic’s Daughter cried. “Look at my car.” The passenger side window had been smashed and glass shards covered whatever remained inside, which wasn’t much. Just that sculpture of a man’s head looking wistfully up at them. “Oh no! My flute! My flute is gone! We’ve got to call the police.”

“They won’t come down here. They won’t even take a police report.” Daniel said.

“That’s so awful.”

“That’s why you guys need to get out of here. Go across the street to the service station and ask the owner to help you. He’s a crusty old guy but his heart is pure.”

“How about you?”

“It’s time for me to go.”

They seemed perplexed. “We’ll never forget you.”

He grinned. “Get on your way now.”

The girls drove across the street and told the old man who’d been watching them: “Daniel said you would help us.”

“You saw Daniel? A guy about thirty, wears thick glasses, quotes a lot of scripture?”

“Yeah. That’s him.”

“Where is he?”

They looked across the street and Daniel was gone. “Well, he did say it was time for him to go.”

“He did? I guess that’s good. You wait here and then, yeah, we’ll patch those windows.” He disappeared into the station and then returned with some cardboard, duct tape and a newspaper folded neatly into a square.

He handed the newspaper article to the girl who seemed the most sensible.

“Terrible thing. What happened to him shouldn’t happen to a dog, no sir. And that poor woman,” he shivered. “Terrible. Unthinkable. Gives me the willies. You know, Daniel was a good kid, a little mixed up but then you should have met his mother. That lunatic held vigil here at the station for three days thinking her son was going to resurrect like the friggin’ Christ.”

The girls didn’t say a word, even amongst themselves. Perhaps I should have softened the blow, Buckley thought, but then he hadn’t had much experience with the so-called fairer sex. “It’s been a whole damn year and they still don’t have any suspects. Not a one.”

“Daniel’s dead?”

“Yup. And you know it happened not too far from here. A year ago. Yeah.”

“But we were just …”

“I told you there was something evil going on in that apartment.”

“Daniel, evil? Nay. He studied to be a priest. You know, the winos claim they’ve seen him too but then they also see rats the size of German Shepherds,” he laughed. “Okay, nuff said, let’s get you gals fixed up and outta here.”

He helped them sweep out the inside of the car and put cardboard over the shattered window. He even gave them a can of oil after checking the dipstick and sighing in disgust “women never check the oil, or the tires. We’d better check them as well.” When he was satisfied the little car just might make it to Massachusetts, he gave them directions on how to get out of town. He watched the little car as it sputtered down the road. They’ll never make it, he thought, but he waved back anyway.

Happy Halloween Everyone! Have you ever spent the night with a ghost?

The Institute #StoryTime

September 30, 2025JT Twissel 3 Comments

Recap thus far: Daniel convinces the girls that they will be safe at his friend Marcia’s place and that it’s not too long a walk. However halfway on their journey he hears one of the girls call out in distress and turns to see …

“Oh baby, baby,” the behemoth moaned as he dragged the girl back into his alley like a long lost Teddy Bear tucked under his arm. “Come with Daddy.”

Henry Clarke Illustration for *The Mystery of Marie Roget* by EA Poe

“Let me go,” she screamed heaving a guitar case into his chest. He twisted the case from her hand and threw it to the ground.

“Come on now, honey bunches,” he laughed, “be good to your man.”

Find something to distract him, Daniel thought looking around for a board or brick. The creature was nearly seven feet tall and had draped himself in a mountain of shredded blankets and rugs. In his world, and according to his set of ethos, he’d been able to nap a sweet young thing who’d wandered directly into his web and, per the rules of the streets, she was his. A gift from the heavens! Sweet nectar to ward off a dark and rainy night! Daniel knew that nothing he had to offer could compare. The other two girls began assaulting the beast with pillowcases full of clothes which he laughed off. To a man his size they were nothing more than yapping pups who could be slammed against the brick walls and kicked to the curbs when they were no longer entertaining.

Somehow the captive girl managed to reach into her coat and withdraw a crucifix.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God!” She thrust the cross into the creature’s face. “Pray for us sinners now and at the moment of our death.” His eyes widened. What’s this bauble my pet dangles in my face? But after he recognized the symbol he flung his head back and howled with laughter. Daniel froze. The girls froze. The creature seemed to be expanding! Growing taller and wider, his laughter now a cruel wail evoking stray dogs to join in from their dark and distant corners. The girl continued on: “Holy Mary, Mother of God …”

And this is hell, Daniel thought. But … the laughter soon shook loose the phlegm trapped in the creature’s lungs, and, choking on spittle, he began hacking so violently that he had no choice but to release the girl and lean into a nearby wall to gasp for breath.

“A crucifix isn’t going to save you down here, Catholic!” Daniel said, pulling the girl away from her awe-struck stance. “It just distracted him for a minute. Grab your stuff and let’s get out of here … “

“I’m not a Catholic!”

“Her mother’s a Catholic,” Venus of the Sewers said. “She’s what they call a …”

“Run!” There was no time for meaningless debate. Run! And run they did … right down the middle of the street … their shoes sounding like heartbeats on the cobblestone streets. Each time they tried to stop for breath, Daniel urged them on. On and on until they reached a neighborhood that had not been completely abandoned to night creatures. Here and there were pockets of light; storefronts that were only gated for the night and not boarded up forever, lights in the windows on the upper floors and even a car or two rolling past at a normal speed. “Okay … we’re almost there. We can stop for a second.” The rain had softened to a light mist. Even the sky seemed lighter. Gradually his heart stopped thumping in his ear like an out of control freight train and, as it did, he heard … the sound of evening prayers.

“At least they haven’t moved,” he said.

“Who? What’s that sound?”

“It sounds like bells.”

“No wind chimes.”

“You’ll see.”

They rounded the corner of Marcia’s street and sure enough. There they were, twirling and chanting in the light shining onto the street from storefront windows. Dozens of men, women and children in white robes oblivious to the mist, any passing cars, and the behemoths who hid in dark alleyways, shaking their bells and bangles in celebration of the Great God Krishna.

“Behold the International Institute of the Hari Krishnas! Marcia lives behind the Institute. Follow me closely and don’t look any of them in the eye otherwise you will be lost forever.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Ha! Compared to the fervor of a dedicated Krishna, that chap we tangled with earlier was a rank amateur!”

Next (in a couple of weeks as I am going on vacation): Evening Prayers and Things Better off Unsaid

Those of you who’ve been following along have probably guessed this is the story of Sandy and Nora from The Face in the Background (the first episode) and their adventures in New York City as young women. It would be lovely to think that, with the help of his friend Marcia, Daniel will be able to convince these silly girls to go home. It would be lovely but do you think that’s what’s going to happen?

The Behemoth #StoryTime

September 24, 2025JT Twissel 15 Comments

Dear Readers: If you miss an episode or two and just want to catch up on the action, the short and sweet summaries of all the episodes thus far are here.

To recap: Daniel can’t abandoned the three girls who, desperate for gas, have driven up to the service station where he works after closing. He considers walking them to a Catholic refuge he knows well and then remembers he knows someone who lives closer. The heavy mist is turning to rain, the temperatures are dropping fast and the ghost ships have begun their nightly quest for new crew members, or so say the winos.

And now, The Behemoth …

“I have a friend you can crash with for the night. It’s not too far and you’ll be safe.” Daniel said.

The girls stared at him mutely. “She’s a social worker.” His socks were wet. The next time his mother came to town he decided that he’d show her the holes in his shoes. She’d insist on buying him at least two pairs of new shoes, one of which he would give to the first shoe-less street person he met, of course. That would make her happy. She wanted Jesus as a son but a well dressed Jesus, not a scruffy one.

“What choice do you have? You can’t sleep in the car. Not in this neighborhood.”

“But are you sure she won’t mind having strange people in her place?”

“No. Not Marcia. I’ve known her a long time. But hurry up and decide.” Daniel knew what happened after dark in that part of town. The needy and vague-eyed — from drink or drug or mental illness — materialized from the crevices of abandoned buildings, crying and moaning and demanding money while in the distance sirens wailed, but always in the distance. A loud crack echoed in the alley across the street, probably just a trashcan being emptied for use as shelter from the rain, but it sounded like gunfire.

“Okay.” They mumbled and began unloading their valuables from the car. One of the girls handed Daniel a terracotta sculpture of a young man’s head. “This is Aragorn. He goes everywhere with us.”

“You know, from the Lord of the Rings.”

“Aragorn?” The thing weighed a ton.

“Oh yeah? Leave him here. No one is going to steal him. I know what. He can be Aragorn, Defender of the Volvo.” Giggling they set the sculpture down on the driver’s seat where in the dim light it looked like a severed head.

Loaded down with guitars and pillowcases filled with clothes, the girls followed Daniel as he navigated sidewalks littered with broken glass, past boarded up storefronts and trash-filled alleyways, always careful not to step into gutters filled with urine and blood and vomit and even worse. He felt like he was leading a trio of ducklings to their doom. Wide-eyed, unfocused, gullible ducklings. Every now and then they heard a scream or a car screeching on the rain-slicked streets, normal sounds for that part of the city but he could tell from the gasps behind him, they would not last long in the city.

Soon they would be begging to return home to a safe suburb where the lights are out by ten and the police have little more to do than investigate mailbox crime. Especially if Marcia worked her social worker magic.

And than it dawned on him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Marcia. One summer had passed, at least. Maybe two. During that time, he’d moved many times. Maybe she had too. Maybe she’d married and moved to the suburbs. Maybe she’d died. Maybe he’d be forced to walk the girls all the way to Father Frank’s. Maybe that was a better plan in the first place. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

His moment of existential crisis was broken by a loud scream: “LET ME GO!”

He turned and his blood froze. The Behemoth had grabbed one of the girls and was dragging her into a dark alley.