Radley's Home for Horny Monsters, Annabelle Hawthorne [howl and other poems TXT] 📗

and start from scratch. This was per your great aunt’s wishes, but I’m guessing that isn’t a problem.”

“You would be correct.” Mike slid open a drawer, looking for a pen, but Beth had one ready.

“You can have an attorney read these over first. I prefer that you do, actually. There isn’t any hurry—now that we have an heir, the clock sort of resets for a bit.” She set the pen on the table. “However, I am just on delivery duty today. I need to get in to the office to begin processing some additional documents. Today is Tuesday. I would be happy to drop by on Friday to pick these up, if you have them done. Otherwise, I can just drop by to make certain you are getting settled. That is part of the provisions as well.”

“Um, yeah. Sure. Thank you.” Finished, they both stood and he followed her outside. He walked behind her, watching the gentle sway of her ass until they arrived at her car, a cute little convertible. Getting in the car, Beth gave him a wave and a smile before driving away. He strolled up the walk, stopping to pat one of the lion’s paws for luck. In his mind, he was planning to take the bucket straight out back to see what he could do about that pesky fountain.

He was up the stairs, his hand on the door, when the swing next to him squeaked. Turning his head, he saw her sitting there, kicking her legs gently as she stared across the front yard, her eyes distant.

“Hey,” Mike said, moving to get a better view. Her skin was unnaturally pale, her hair white. She wore a simple white dress with a thick black belt around her waist. The skirt stopped just above her knees, and white stockings were visible above a black pair of shoes. The swing creaked as she swayed, coming close to the siding of the house. She ignored him.

“Hello? Hey?” He stood in front of her, waving his hand in front of her face. Her slightly milky eyes stared forward. Maybe she’s blind, Mike thought. Her skin was paper white, but her facial features made Mike think of a mixed European heritage. Small breasts pushed against the front of her dress, filling out the top as if it had been custom made for her. Her eyes didn’t budge, her white-eyed gaze settled on eternity.

“Now look...” Mike grabbed the chain of the swing, halting its forward motion.

The change was immediate. She was suddenly standing, her whole body lurching forward as if a movie had skipped several frames. A blast of cold air assailed Mike as her wild face was inches from his own, her feet hovering above the ground. She let out a blistering screech, her hair fanning out wildly behind her as she raised her hands, fingers curled like claws.

Mike, panicking, stumbled backwards, the railing hitting him in his lower back. A second icy blast of air pushed him over the edge, where he fell into the scratchy bushes below. Wide eyed, he stared into the sky as the specter leaned over the rail, floating upward.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered, struggling to fight his way free of the bushes. She let out another shriek, her suddenly darkened features stretched until her face was a nightmarish mask.

“Stop unhooking my swing, fucker!” she cried, then poofed out of existence.

Mike scrambled to his feet, rolling free of the bushes, covered in bloody scratches. Standing in the warm light of day, his heart pounding a mile a minute, Mike stared up at the porch he had fallen from. The railing was cracked, and behind it, the swing swayed gently in the breeze.

Mike ran up the stairs, his eyes on the empty swing.

He shoved the door open, slamming it shut behind him once inside. “Naia!” he hollered, stomping up the stairs. “Naia, what the fuck was that?” he shouted, running into the bathroom.

The tub’s faucet opened up, pouring a thin layer of water on the bottom. Her head and shoulders emerged as if she was in a lake rather than an inch of water.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Some woman on the porch. On the swing. Screamed at me. I fell into the bushes.” Mike gasped for air, inspecting the cuts on his arm.

“Oh. Oh!” Naia’s eyes flashed. “I remember! That’s Cecilia!”

“Who is Cecilia?” Mike sat on the side of the tub, rubbing his eyes.

“She’s a banshee. She lives on the porch. She really likes the swing.” Naia sunk even lower, her lips just above the surface of the water. “I’m sorry, Mike. I wish I could have told you.”

“Is that the important thing? The one you wanted to say but couldn’t?”

Naia shook her head, her face moving even lower. Just her eyes were visible above the water.

“Naia, what aren’t you telling me?” Mike crossed his arms.

The nymph blushed, her words muffled by the water.

“What did you say?”

Naia rose up out of the water until her lips were visible. “I said that there are others.”

“Others? Others like who?”

Naia shook her head. “I can’t remember. I’m sorry, Mike, but I really can’t. Now that you’ve met Cecilia, I can remember her very well, or at least what Emily told me about her. She almost never came inside, or visited my fountain. But there are others.”

“If you can’t remember them, then how do you know there are others?”

“It’s the important thing, the one I couldn’t remember.” Naia slumped. “I think you’re going to be mad.”

“I’ll do my best. What is it?”

“Remember earlier, when I told you that the man who built this house collected magical artifacts?”

“Yes?”

“It’s part of the geas. It’s a failsafe, a half-truth. He did collect artifacts, yes. But he came across most of those on accident.”

“How do you accidentally come across artifacts?”

Naia put on a fake smile, most of her teeth showing. “You see a lot of them when you decide to start your own monster collection.”

Garage Goblin

“Monsters. The guy who built this house