Her Hand Beneath Mine

My wonderful, eccentric uncle was throwing a party tonight that my girlfriend, Dalia, and I dressed up to attend. It was my favorite event of the year because we got to be whoever we wanted to be. It also happened to be Halloween, and Uncle Kiddie loved Halloween. This year I decided to be a moth, and my dear Dalia was a lamp, functioning light bulb and all. She was nervous to meet my uncle for the first time as a lamp, but I assured her it would be fantastic and she believed me. After all, he was the first person I came out to, and at that time I was dressed as an acorn. I told her I got stuck in multiple doorways throughout the night and she laughed, squeezing my hand.

The party place at a local park, bedecked with string lights and this year it would be beneath the full blue moon. The full blue moon only lands on October 31st once every 19 years.

It was less than a two mile walk from our apartment along the river. Her hand was dry and cool. We walked along with the sun as it dipped low in the trees, watching us.

We were happily lost in conversation and I wanted to get a closer look at the river, so we took a small herd path down the bank- a trail that I had not taken since I was a child. The water was low, only a few inches deep, and I stepped on my heels to remove my sneakers. Dalia giggled at the thought of the cold water betwixt her toes and followed me.

Something changed then. I had that sickening jerk of the stomach feeling when you just know, without knowing how, that something is very wrong. Like the moment before a car crash. My body stiffened and braced for impact.

Not far away, there was a collection of skeletons all posed between the trees. They looked as though they were deep in conversation inside a room with no walls. They were in a perfect rectangular shape with tables and empty cups in their hands.

Dalia’s brow wrinkled, “Is this part of a haunted forest setup? They look so real. I can’t even see the hinges.”

I squinted. One of the skeletons was not bleached white like the others. “It looks like that one is covered in bugs.”

“Wow, this is really well done! Why is it down here where nobody can see it?”

“It is covered in bugs. And…”

Before Dalia could collect her shoes I grabbed her hand and began hauling her back up the bank.

I screamed when something large moved among the bones.

A man about our age sat forward abruptly and rather than turning his body to face us, he just wrenched his eyes to the side.

“Dude, what the hell?” Dalia laughed. “That is really fucking creepy. Are you practicing for a show or something?”

I yanked Dalia’s arm but the guy was running towards us before I could gain traction on the muddy bank. He stood atop the hill, staring down at us.

I glared at him, my skin flushed with heat. I was sick with a rage that I did not know I was capable of- a fear that I did not know I was capable of.

“Babe?” Dalia’s voice was suddenly unsure.

The man had light brown hair parted in the middle and cut flat at his ears. He was slightly larger than us. He was not all that alarming except he was breathing excitedly just through his nose. He was psyching himself up for something. And his eyes were black.

I grabbed the nearest palm-sized rock and chucked it at him.

“GET OUT OF OUR WAY.” I demanded, though my voice shook.

The rock hit his raised forearm and instantly drew blood that spotted his white long sleeve.

“Hey! What is the matter with you?” Dalia grabbed my shoulder and tried to turn me but I did not take my eyes off the man. I watched as he pulled a knife out of his vest. It glinted in the final rays of the sun.

I took Dalia’s hand and we ran into the river. The stones were slick and uneven. We did not get far. She did not cry out, but I felt her body jerk and knew that he had caught her.

When I turned, his black eyes were bulging out of their sockets and his teeth were bared in an unhinged grimace.

Dalia’s face just looked surprised as he dragged the knife along her spine. Her hand twitched violently out of mine before she fell to her knees.

I grabbed another rock but he was already upon me. I caught his arm as he swung the knife down toward the soft part of my shoulder. Dalia’s hot blood dripped into one of my eyes and I swung the stone desperately. It collided with his cheek. It crunched and bloomed purple but the thrill made him immune to the pain. His smile was the last thing I saw before he cut through both my eyes. Before I could even cry out the knife slid between my ribs and grated against my sternum. My heart thumped feebly, like a bird caught in too small of a cage.

It is true what they say about your hearing going last when you die. As my senses left me off one by one I could still hear him. He dragged Dalia’s body through the water. He splashed toward me and had a giddy hitch in his breath. He brought me to shore. He pulled some wood around, a table and two chairs for Dalia and me. There was a hammer, nail, cracking, and squelching. A jar was opened. Many small things skittered onto the table whose sounds soon after became muted. I imagined bugs burrowing into the fabric of our clothes and on into our skin.

The very last thing I heard before my mind began to peel away from my body was the guy’s voice. He leaned in close to my ear and I was so relieved that I could not feel his lips against my skin.

“You two will look so good together. I nailed your hand on top of hers so you can talk sweetly for the rest of time.”

I’m sorry I ruined your blue moon birthday, Uncle Kiddie. We really were excited to go.