Sad voices drift through the early morning air as the matriarch is laid to rest, joining her husband who passed some twenty years prior. The last of the old guard now gone, the younger ones must carry the family torch.
Though the aged are usually thought of as carrying a certain acridness of the tongue and a bitterness directed at those around them, such was not the case with Mrs. Bellows. Always a kind word for all; generous to a fault; willing to open her heart and home to friend and family alike. Everyone loved her.
Beneath the ground in his little dwelling of terror, the Ghoul can clearly hear the words of the two discordant twenty-somethings as they sit on a nearby tombstone. They are bitter as all hell.
“Old bitch provided for everyone else in the family but us,” one gripes.
“Not fair. Not right at all, Tom,” the other replies.
“Sucks the big one, George. The rest of them think everything will work out for us, but the stupid old bitch gave our share to our parents for us. Shit! You know that ain’t gonna pan out. Mom and Dad believe we’re a couple of losers. We won’t see a dime of that fucking money.”
“Nothing we can do about it,” the passive one mopes.
“Maybe there is.” Hearing arrogance in this one’s voice, the Ghoul pays closer attention.
“What do you mean?”
“The old witch insisted on being buried with her favorite jewels. That shit is worth a fortune, and it isn’t doing any good rotting in the ground. That dough could be in our pockets instead.”
“You’re not suggesting… ”
“Yes, I am. Who would know?” A smile creeps across the Ghouls face upon hearing this, it’s beginning to sound promising.
George, the skittish one, hops down from the tombstone. His baggy-ass shorts almost falling off him, exposing black and white skull-figured boxers. He pulls them up to keep from tripping and starts to pace nervously while shaking his head. “You do this, you’re on your own! I’m not getting caught digging up our dead grandmother. It’s not like we’re damned ghouls!”
Oh, the graveyard resident bristles at the audacity of this statement. These two interlopers are discussing stealing from their deceased relative and one has the nerve to degrade him? This is a definite case of misplaced morality. What he does is to survive, but them? They are merely greedy boys, not caring about anyone other than themselves.
“You’re not scared, are you, George?” Tom asks, a sneer on his face.
“Well, a cemetery at night is not my preferred place to be. Pretty creepy if you ask me.”
“Look, tonight will be the perfect time to do this. We come in, dig the old lady up, heist the jewelry, shove the coffin back down, and split. The ground will still be soft, they won’t tamp it down until tomorrow. And her plot is so far from the road, no one will even know we are here.”
George shakes his head again. “Too risky.”
“Okay. I’ll come alone and do the deed, and I’ll be damned if I share it with you.”
George gnaws on his fingernail while he thinks. He wants the money. They’ll get a good sum for those trinkets buried under the ground. Enough to buy plenty of nose-candy for both him and Ginny. Yeah, Ginny, she’d spread her legs for the good shit, and he’ll still have a wad of bucks left over.
“Okay, okay!” he says, “I’m in.”
“Right on, bro. The good life is just waiting for us, all we need is a little scratch. We won’t have any more problems come tomorrow. None at all.”
Haha! Those two will have more problems than they can imagine, the Ghoul muses. Bad for them but great for me. Two main courses tonight. What a delectable feast! And what a charming host I’ll be as they walk straight into my kitchen.
Darkness is complete this evening: no moon at all, and the street lights are too far from this part of the cemetery to be visible.
The Ghoul sits, waiting patiently, knowing they will come. Tom’s intent was so intense the demon could taste it on the tip of his sensitive tongue. No way the little bastard will allow this opportunity to escape. The greed gnawing at the selfish twerp radiated throughout the graveyard earlier. It will be easy to zone in on it when he returns. The alarm will sound, the dinner gong personified.
His chest hairs feel the prickle of their approach. No lights – good boys. That’s makes it even easier. Who will be the wiser?
The duo walk toward the grave, tripping repeatedly, banging their feet into the smaller stones rising mere inches above the ground: the markers for the poor.
“Shit!” George whispers.“I can’t see a fucking thing!”
“That’s good,” Tom says. “It means no one can see us either, dumb-ass.”
“Yeah, I suppose. But I still don’t like it.”
“Stop your bitching! We’re almost there.”
Fortunately they’re holding the shovels over their shoulders, otherwise, the way these two are careening about, the damn things would be clanging on everything in sight, alerting people in the next town over of their presence.
Only when they get close to the grave do they use their flashlights, and even then, sparingly.
“Here’s where the old bitch is buried,” Tom whispers. “Let’s hustle!”
George needs no encouragement to hurry up and get the hell out of there. If it wasn’t for the thought of Ginny’s naked body calling out to him, he wouldn’t have come in the first place.
They turn their lights off and start digging. Tom would have done this alone, but with his brother here it makes for faster shoveling, less chance of being caught. It seems to take forever, but the soft dirt comes up easily.
Tomorrow night would have been much harder. They reach the casket and prepare to open it.
“Je-zus! What’s that odor?” George chokes. “It’s awful!”
“Just some dead animal. Don’t worry about it.”
Having crept to the edge of the pit, peering down at them from above, the Ghoul intones, “Let me assure you I’m anything but dead. In fact, I’m very much alive, and I’m hungry.”
“What the… !”
The monster leaps down into the grave before the words are out, his immense presence felt by the brothers even though they cannot see him. His stench makes them reel, makes their eyes water, but instinct tells them they must keep their wits to survive. They attempt to shine the lights on him, but the demon swats them out of their hands.
“Not yet, my intrepid duo. You will see me in due time, but I wish to play with my food before I indulge in the taste of your warm blood running from your pink flesh. Think of me as a kitten, a soft, furry cuddly kitten, knocking you about a bit, watching you squirm in horror as I prepare to gorge on your intestines. Worry not, I’m no glutton like you fools. I will take my time, letting each of you experience being devoured alive so I can savor it all the more.”
They swing their shovels at him, but he artfully darts away from their attack and knocks them to the side. As George prepares to holler out, the Ghoul rakes his long nails across the boy’s throat, rendering him speechless. George reaches for his larynx only to find it gone.
Tom has no intention of hollering. Even with this monstrosity bearing down on them, he’s still too greedy to pass up the hidden gems. Surely the two of them can fight off this animal. He attacks the beast with his fists first and then starts pulling out chunks of the creatures body hair wherever he can.
The Ghoul is growing angry. He puts both of Tom’s hands in his mouth and saws on them savagely until they tear free. Blood pours from the mutilated arms and the demon sucks at the blood, drinking as though to sate an impossible thirst. Tom stares at his destroyed arms in shock, barely able to stand the pain.
Laughing as he does so, the beast flicks a flashlight at George. “Shine this on me and watch as I devour your bother. You wish to know what foulness carries such an awful stench. I grant your wish, if you’ve the stones for it.”
He allows the shock of it to sink in for a moment or two, enjoying the terror emanating from both boys, hearing the pounding of their hearts, tasting the salt on his tongue from the rivers of nervous sweat pouring from them, and scenting the blood that trickles from the gnawed-off stumps.
Then he lunges at Tom’s midsection, tearing into the delectable innards, rolling them around his tongue like spaghetti on a fork. Tom’s attempts to scream are mere gurgles of blood. No sound issues forth.
Methodically, the Ghoul eats away at him, enjoying the sensation of the struggle left within Tom’s body as he tries to resist: a hopeless cause. Soon, the taste of death is added to the succulence of his flesh.
Turning to an almost comatose George, he says, “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you out of the fun.”
George tries to back up, but there is no place to go. The Ghoul throws him atop the coffin, slowly tearing off chunks of his flesh, savoring every delicious morsel as his meal twitches in agony. The closeness of the ‘kitchen’ excites him even more, for this is his domain to rule.
Good times must come to an end, and George goes the way of his brother, the scent and taste of their recent lives tickling the giant’s hair. He completely devours the bodies and leaves their bones in the grave with their dearly departed relative.
“Mrs. Bellows,” he says with an exaggerated bow, “I will now allow you to rest in peace. As you can see, I have given you company. Maybe not the best of companions for your new life, but at least you will not be alone.”
He climbs out of the grave and covers it up, making everything look the same as it did before the carnage began. Stuffed to the point of near regurgitation, he sits on Mrs. B’s stone refusing to allow an ounce of her ungrateful grandchildren to escape.
A great night, indeed. This new existence of his is most satisfying.
~ Blaze McRob
© Copyright 2014 Blaze McRob. All Rights Reserved.
23 thoughts on “Grave Robbers”
Oh I loved this story so much! Although the Ghoul devoured the boys, it seemed as if he had good intentions… (ghoulish intentions?)
Ghoulish intentions indeed, Carrie. I’m glad you enjoyed my story. 🙂 Sometimes it’s hard to tell who the real evil ones are.
Reblogged this on From Bright Minds Come Dark Things and commented:
Another ghoulish tale as only Blaze McRob can deliver. Enjoy!
Thanks for reblogging this, Craig. No Craigs were harmed in the writing of this story.
Great story, Blaze! There’s something visceral in your writing that always punches me right in the gut. Well done, my Damned friend. All puns intended.
Thank you, Craig! I was a boxer for a while many moons ago and know the value of a good gut shot. Though my Ghoul is not a pleasant lad, I am trying to get into his head and let my readers in on what he is thinking.
Your Ghoul is such a character! Quite the theatrical fellow! Loved the story; no twists or turns but a thoroughly entertaining and enjoyable read, Blaze. More Ghoul stories, please!
Thank you, Thomas! Yes, my Ghoul is an entertaining lad, in his own eyes, of course. 🙂 This is the Year Of The Ghoul for Blaze. Brian Keene can’t have all the fun, can he?
I really enjoyed this tale Blaze, your bumbling grave robbers are a hoot and your ghoul is delightfully bloodthirsty. Lots of gruesome visuals and sharp dialogue. Great work!
Thank you, Magenta! I do enjoy when I can add in some light moments in the midst of carnage. Makes for such a delight to write. I have to thank Nina for pointing out a few things to sharpen up. She is such a sweetie. Not in her stories, though.
Ghouls are such wonderful folk, as long as you don’t tempt their pallet. I always enjoy the ghoul stories, Blaze! They are so full of messy fun! Nicely done my friend.
Thank you, Zack! Ghouls are not usually too picky about what they eat, but some flesh is better than others. I wonder how my Ghoulish friend would do with a hookah. Hmmn. You don’t have any extras lying around anywhere, do you?
Why yes I do my friend!
You raise a good point… What flesh tastes better? The sweet meat of the innocent or the peppery bite of the vile?
Ghoulies, ghoulies, ghoulies everywhere! I thoroughly enjoyed your story, Blaze – this Ghoul of yours has become quite an endearing character 😉 lol
But I loved the way this was written and would make for a great Creature Feature episode!! 🙂 Well done, my friend!!
Yes, my Ghoul is a rather charming lad, Joe. Thank you. 🙂 I have more of these tales on the way. Too much fun to quit writing them. I love your Creature Feature mention. Blaze and his Tres Cool Ghoul!
Zack, depending on what’s in the hookah, we might want to mix the offerings a bit. I would be prone to go with the sweet taste of the innocent, but the food supply would be diminished rapidly. 🙂
a great read 🙂 i enjoyed this story a lot. i’ve always been fascinated with ghouls and the one in your story is very interesting.
Thank you, K. Z. ! That is very kind of you. Not many authors are writing about these fascinating entities. I will have more tales about him in the future.
Glad I haven’t eaten Blaze. Oh you did wonders with vivid images. The last line leaves t’hat question “What is this new existence?”
Another excellent piece friend of horror.
Thank you, moondustwriter! When I do a multiple storyline, I always like to leave a little teaser. It must be done. 🙂 Ghoulish fun all the way!
It was nice seeing the Ghoul up to his old tricks again! Humans never learn… greed always leads to a downfall. I really enjoyed the gruesome punishments in this one! Fun, bloody tale, Blaze!
The best thing about being a writer is there is nothing that cannot be written. Punishments . . . sweet punishments are what it is all about. In our Damned tales, greed can only have one consequence, and it is not a pretty one. Thank you for your kind words, Sir Tyr!