Some Halloween fun for Duckys lady & Blondie54
Title: The Frankenstein Place
Rating: PG
Word count:2061
Prompts:
duckys_lady & blondie_54I hope you don't mind that I doubled up on prompts here, but they just seemed to go together like blood and guts. My thanks to you and to sparky955 for her beta help
Napoleon rested his head against the steering wheel and silently cursed. When he grabbed, he refused to say stolen, the car, he hadn’t thought to look at the gas tank. All he wanted was to get his partner to a hospital or even just an old country doctor. Anyone who could help.
Instead he got to the outskirts of the town and the car had rumbled to a stop, its gas tank dry.
“Damn it!” He pounded the steering wheel and Illya stirred. He flopped his head over to tiredly study Solo.
“Are we home?”
“I wish, but home was never like this.” Napoleon leaned close to brush the hair from Illya’s face and forced a smile. “How are you holding up, partner?”
Illya coughed and winced as he sat up. “I’m okay. So, if we aren’t there, why did we stop?”
“Out of gas.”
“I’d laugh if I had the energy.”
The wind shook the car and Napoleon made a face. “Okay, you are going to sit tight and I am going to go for help.”
“Not likely.” Illya roused himself. “If you go, so do I.”
“Illya, you’re hurt.”
“So are you.”
“Not like you.”
In the moonlight, Illya’s blood glistened black. “We need to prop each other up or we aren’t going to go anywhere. I have no desire to bleed to death because you collapsed in a ditch somewhere.”
“If you move again, you could start to bleed.” Napoleon already knew that this was a lost cause. When Illya dug his heels in, it was game over.
Illya got his door open, then lurched out of his seat and into the night. Napoleon followed him, more from a vain hope to make his stubborn partner go back to the car than anything else. Instantly, the cold October wind cut through his thin suit jacket.
He caught up with Illya, not a difficult task, after a few strides. Illya was merely standing in the middle of the road and looking off into the distance.
“Will you look at that?” Napoleon followed Illya’s stare.
“I’d always heard they were a different breed out here.”
“I know, but that… what is that? A castle? A mansion?”
“It looks more like a hunting lodge for rich weirdos.” Napoleon remembered that line from a movie Michelle had dragged him to the week before.
“It looks like half of it is gone.”
“Yes, but there’s a light on and if there’s a light, there might be a phone. Why don’t you wait here and I’ll be right back?”
“Again? Why do you think you’d be more successful this time when you failed so miserably last time?”
“Hope springs eternal. Okay, let’s go before you’re entirely out of blood.”
“Nice…”
They walked, both lost in their own pains and misery until the structure loomed quite large, nearly blocking out the moon. The wind buffeted them unmercifully with its lashes.
The gate was open, but it looked more as if something large had burst out from behind it. The driveway was pitted with loose rocks and gravel while weeds too advantage of every break to push through.
All along the driveway there were signs posted: Go Away, Beware! Danger!, No Trespassing, and so on, all written in something akin to fresh blood, something not lost on either of them.
“I’m feeling quite unwelcomed,” Illya murmured. He was starting to wheeze now and Napoleon lowered him to the ground.
“I think you’re going to sit this one out, Illya.” He pointed to the front porch, with its enticing light and a lit jack-o-lantern beckoning to him. “I will be in and out in a heartbeat.”
“Napoleon…” Illya’s voice trailed off as Napoleon helped him sit on a step.
“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”
“The wind has stopped.”
Napoleon looked off into the distance and watched the trees dance and sway. “No, it hasn’t.”
“It has here.”
Illya was right. Here not even the whisper of a breeze disturbed the leaves and detritus littering the sidewalk. “That’s odd. Perhaps the house is blocking it. Sit tight and I will be back before you can say pumpkin pie.”
Illya half smiled and leaned against the railing, taking shallows breaths. Napoleon patted his shoulder and wearily struggled up the stairs. There seemed more of them than he thought.
Finally he conquered the last one and looked back at Illya, who was sitting just feet away from him.
“Still here?” Illya asked without turning around.
“I’m going.” Napoleon shook his head and walked up to the door. He ran a hand over his less than pristine jacket and patted his wind-tossed hair into place. There was a knocker, so he used that. It seemed to echo in his head.
The door creaked open and Napoleon caught his breath. He didn’t know what to expect, but it most certainly wasn’t a tiny, grey-haired woman. She was wearing a brightly-colored dress with a seasonal apron protecting it.
“Oh, my first trick or treater!” she cried and held out a bowl to him. Without meaning to, Napoleon snatched up a lollipop. “Here you go.” She stopped then and looked him up and down. “You’re a bit old for a trick or treater.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I came under a pretense. You see, my friend and I ran out of gas.” Napoleon gestured to Illya, but his partner had disappeared. “I was hoping I could use your phone and call for some help.”
“Of course! Follow me, young man.”
“Thank you.”
Illya watched Napoleon apparently talk with someone in the house. He couldn’t hear or really see anything from his angle. He returned to his study of the landscape and tried to stay awake.
Napoleon entered the house and glanced around. The interior was worn and shabby, but who was he to judge? His place was just a shell to him. Home was wherever Illya was. He looked back towards the front door as the elderly woman closed it. The air was still and stuffy, but it was nice to be out of the cold.
“I am Miss Tilly.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m Napoleon Solo and I really appreciate your help. It’s a little nasty out and your house was a beacon of hope.”
Her laugh was like the shattering of crystal and Napoleon kept from wincing. “I have never heard this old house called that before.” She paused then, as if making some sort of decision. “If you will wait here, I will make that call for you.”
“You truly are an angel of mercy, Miss Tilly.”
Again, she laughed. “Tell you what, while I’m gone, if you would hand out candy to any trick or treaters, I would appreciate it.”
“I would be happy to.” There was a series of cracks and muffled footsteps over his head and he glanced up.
“Pay no attention to those. It’s just my family. They get excited when we have visitors. I‘ll be just a moment.”
She disappeared up the stairs and Napoleon took a step away from the front door to pick up the bowl of candy. Doing that, he got a look through to a room, its furniture covered in debris-laden sheets and half of the ceiling on the floor. The poor woman probably couldn’t afford to have repair work done. He made a mental note to have UNCLE send her something for her efforts.
The moments, turned to minutes and he glanced at his watch. It was nearly midnight. They’d never get anyone out at this time of the night.
As he waited, he listened the scratching noises that seemed to be surrounding him, invisible outside the small parameter of the entry hall’s light. He took another step closer and he swore that the scratching grew excited as he did.
“Oh, there you are, Mr. Solo.” He jumped at Miss Tillie’s voice and retreated. The scratching stopped as he turned back towards her. Her eyes seemed overly bright, almost feverish. “You must go now.”
“All right. Thank you for your--” Napoleon held the bowl towards her and then nearly dropped it. It was filled with eyeballs some with the optic nerves still attached. He gasped, blinked and then realized they were merely lollipops.
“Yes, you’re welcome, go now!” She gave him a push towards the door. “Quickly! My family is coming. They won’t understand. Hurry!”
Napoleon tried to say more, but felt himself forcefully shoved out the door and back into the cold night. That’s when he realized it was warmer outside than in.
Turning, he glanced at the stairs and at the huddled lump. He took hold of the railing and eased his way down the steps.
“You doing okay?” he asked.
“Finally! You’ve been gone for hours.” Illya was not happy. “You are right, I should have stayed in the car.”
“I wasn’t gone but…” He checked his watch. It read two a.m. “But it was just midnight a second ago.”
“Whatever. Did you find a phone?”
“I did, but I’m not hopeful that we will see anyone before daybreak.”
“Who cares? Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”
Napoleon looked back and Miss Tillie waved sadly from the front window, then suddenly disappeared, as if yanked from view.
They made their way back to the car and had just settled in when headlights appeared. Napoleon waved his arms frantically and the vehicle squealed to a stop. To his relief, it was a tow truck.
“Looks like Miss Tillie came through for us,” he told Illya over his shoulder.
Soon they were in the tow truck cab, their car trailing behind them.
“I’m sure glad you got here so quickly,” Napoleon said to the driver.
“Whacha mean?” the man shifted a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.
“In response to the phone call,” Napoleon explained.
“There wasn’t any phone call, mister. I just happened to be returning to town.”
“The Solo luck wins again,” Illya muttered.
“Oh, she probably left a message with your office then.”
“Who would that be?”
“Miss Tillie. She lives just down the road in the opposite direction. Sweet little old lady.”
“I ain’t too sure about that, Mister. The only Tillie I ever knew killed her family one night.”
“What?”
“Yeah, now this is just hearsay at this point, but the story went that she’d been taking care of them for years, her kids weren’t quite right, you see. And then one Halloween one night, it all went south. The kids had gotten wild, I guess from all the trick or treaters coming to the door and she snapped. Killed them, ripped their eyes out and offered them up as candy to anyone who knocked on her door. At the trial, they said that she was innocent because of her own mental deficit. They let her go and she came home. Next Halloween, when they knocked on her door, there was no answer, although everyone swore they heard noises inside. The next day, they found her swinging from the chandelier in the parlor… at least part of her. The rest looked like it have been gnawed on. Hell, that must have been sixty years ago, though.”
“What did she look like?” Napoleon had a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“My mom said she was the quintessential old lady, always well dressed and she had a special Halloween apron that she always wore. It had pumpkins all over it. We kids were sure her place was haunted and we were always daring each other to go inside. One of my friends did, but while he was inside, he tripped and got hurt. Lost his eye. ”
“Poor guy.”
“Yeah, he always ended up as a pirate after that. That’s when they condemned the place. You couldn’t get me there on Halloween night for all the money in the world now.”
“Why’s that?”
“Rumor is that she lies in wait for her next victim.”
“Imagine that.” Illya shifted and grumbled.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just a little hungry.”
“Hang on a minute.” Napoleon stuck his hand into his pocket and his stomach roiled. He didn’t have to look at what he grabbed to know it was the lollipop Miss Tillie had given him. “Sorry, my mistake.” And quietly he wiped the viscous from his hand on his pants leg.
Rating: PG
Word count:2061
Prompts:
duckys_lady & blondie_54I hope you don't mind that I doubled up on prompts here, but they just seemed to go together like blood and guts. My thanks to you and to sparky955 for her beta help
Napoleon rested his head against the steering wheel and silently cursed. When he grabbed, he refused to say stolen, the car, he hadn’t thought to look at the gas tank. All he wanted was to get his partner to a hospital or even just an old country doctor. Anyone who could help.
Instead he got to the outskirts of the town and the car had rumbled to a stop, its gas tank dry.
“Damn it!” He pounded the steering wheel and Illya stirred. He flopped his head over to tiredly study Solo.
“Are we home?”
“I wish, but home was never like this.” Napoleon leaned close to brush the hair from Illya’s face and forced a smile. “How are you holding up, partner?”
Illya coughed and winced as he sat up. “I’m okay. So, if we aren’t there, why did we stop?”
“Out of gas.”
“I’d laugh if I had the energy.”
The wind shook the car and Napoleon made a face. “Okay, you are going to sit tight and I am going to go for help.”
“Not likely.” Illya roused himself. “If you go, so do I.”
“Illya, you’re hurt.”
“So are you.”
“Not like you.”
In the moonlight, Illya’s blood glistened black. “We need to prop each other up or we aren’t going to go anywhere. I have no desire to bleed to death because you collapsed in a ditch somewhere.”
“If you move again, you could start to bleed.” Napoleon already knew that this was a lost cause. When Illya dug his heels in, it was game over.
Illya got his door open, then lurched out of his seat and into the night. Napoleon followed him, more from a vain hope to make his stubborn partner go back to the car than anything else. Instantly, the cold October wind cut through his thin suit jacket.
He caught up with Illya, not a difficult task, after a few strides. Illya was merely standing in the middle of the road and looking off into the distance.
“Will you look at that?” Napoleon followed Illya’s stare.
“I’d always heard they were a different breed out here.”
“I know, but that… what is that? A castle? A mansion?”
“It looks more like a hunting lodge for rich weirdos.” Napoleon remembered that line from a movie Michelle had dragged him to the week before.
“It looks like half of it is gone.”
“Yes, but there’s a light on and if there’s a light, there might be a phone. Why don’t you wait here and I’ll be right back?”
“Again? Why do you think you’d be more successful this time when you failed so miserably last time?”
“Hope springs eternal. Okay, let’s go before you’re entirely out of blood.”
“Nice…”
They walked, both lost in their own pains and misery until the structure loomed quite large, nearly blocking out the moon. The wind buffeted them unmercifully with its lashes.
The gate was open, but it looked more as if something large had burst out from behind it. The driveway was pitted with loose rocks and gravel while weeds too advantage of every break to push through.
All along the driveway there were signs posted: Go Away, Beware! Danger!, No Trespassing, and so on, all written in something akin to fresh blood, something not lost on either of them.
“I’m feeling quite unwelcomed,” Illya murmured. He was starting to wheeze now and Napoleon lowered him to the ground.
“I think you’re going to sit this one out, Illya.” He pointed to the front porch, with its enticing light and a lit jack-o-lantern beckoning to him. “I will be in and out in a heartbeat.”
“Napoleon…” Illya’s voice trailed off as Napoleon helped him sit on a step.
“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”
“The wind has stopped.”
Napoleon looked off into the distance and watched the trees dance and sway. “No, it hasn’t.”
“It has here.”
Illya was right. Here not even the whisper of a breeze disturbed the leaves and detritus littering the sidewalk. “That’s odd. Perhaps the house is blocking it. Sit tight and I will be back before you can say pumpkin pie.”
Illya half smiled and leaned against the railing, taking shallows breaths. Napoleon patted his shoulder and wearily struggled up the stairs. There seemed more of them than he thought.
Finally he conquered the last one and looked back at Illya, who was sitting just feet away from him.
“Still here?” Illya asked without turning around.
“I’m going.” Napoleon shook his head and walked up to the door. He ran a hand over his less than pristine jacket and patted his wind-tossed hair into place. There was a knocker, so he used that. It seemed to echo in his head.
The door creaked open and Napoleon caught his breath. He didn’t know what to expect, but it most certainly wasn’t a tiny, grey-haired woman. She was wearing a brightly-colored dress with a seasonal apron protecting it.
“Oh, my first trick or treater!” she cried and held out a bowl to him. Without meaning to, Napoleon snatched up a lollipop. “Here you go.” She stopped then and looked him up and down. “You’re a bit old for a trick or treater.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I came under a pretense. You see, my friend and I ran out of gas.” Napoleon gestured to Illya, but his partner had disappeared. “I was hoping I could use your phone and call for some help.”
“Of course! Follow me, young man.”
“Thank you.”
Illya watched Napoleon apparently talk with someone in the house. He couldn’t hear or really see anything from his angle. He returned to his study of the landscape and tried to stay awake.
Napoleon entered the house and glanced around. The interior was worn and shabby, but who was he to judge? His place was just a shell to him. Home was wherever Illya was. He looked back towards the front door as the elderly woman closed it. The air was still and stuffy, but it was nice to be out of the cold.
“I am Miss Tilly.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m Napoleon Solo and I really appreciate your help. It’s a little nasty out and your house was a beacon of hope.”
Her laugh was like the shattering of crystal and Napoleon kept from wincing. “I have never heard this old house called that before.” She paused then, as if making some sort of decision. “If you will wait here, I will make that call for you.”
“You truly are an angel of mercy, Miss Tilly.”
Again, she laughed. “Tell you what, while I’m gone, if you would hand out candy to any trick or treaters, I would appreciate it.”
“I would be happy to.” There was a series of cracks and muffled footsteps over his head and he glanced up.
“Pay no attention to those. It’s just my family. They get excited when we have visitors. I‘ll be just a moment.”
She disappeared up the stairs and Napoleon took a step away from the front door to pick up the bowl of candy. Doing that, he got a look through to a room, its furniture covered in debris-laden sheets and half of the ceiling on the floor. The poor woman probably couldn’t afford to have repair work done. He made a mental note to have UNCLE send her something for her efforts.
The moments, turned to minutes and he glanced at his watch. It was nearly midnight. They’d never get anyone out at this time of the night.
As he waited, he listened the scratching noises that seemed to be surrounding him, invisible outside the small parameter of the entry hall’s light. He took another step closer and he swore that the scratching grew excited as he did.
“Oh, there you are, Mr. Solo.” He jumped at Miss Tillie’s voice and retreated. The scratching stopped as he turned back towards her. Her eyes seemed overly bright, almost feverish. “You must go now.”
“All right. Thank you for your--” Napoleon held the bowl towards her and then nearly dropped it. It was filled with eyeballs some with the optic nerves still attached. He gasped, blinked and then realized they were merely lollipops.
“Yes, you’re welcome, go now!” She gave him a push towards the door. “Quickly! My family is coming. They won’t understand. Hurry!”
Napoleon tried to say more, but felt himself forcefully shoved out the door and back into the cold night. That’s when he realized it was warmer outside than in.
Turning, he glanced at the stairs and at the huddled lump. He took hold of the railing and eased his way down the steps.
“You doing okay?” he asked.
“Finally! You’ve been gone for hours.” Illya was not happy. “You are right, I should have stayed in the car.”
“I wasn’t gone but…” He checked his watch. It read two a.m. “But it was just midnight a second ago.”
“Whatever. Did you find a phone?”
“I did, but I’m not hopeful that we will see anyone before daybreak.”
“Who cares? Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”
Napoleon looked back and Miss Tillie waved sadly from the front window, then suddenly disappeared, as if yanked from view.
They made their way back to the car and had just settled in when headlights appeared. Napoleon waved his arms frantically and the vehicle squealed to a stop. To his relief, it was a tow truck.
“Looks like Miss Tillie came through for us,” he told Illya over his shoulder.
Soon they were in the tow truck cab, their car trailing behind them.
“I’m sure glad you got here so quickly,” Napoleon said to the driver.
“Whacha mean?” the man shifted a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.
“In response to the phone call,” Napoleon explained.
“There wasn’t any phone call, mister. I just happened to be returning to town.”
“The Solo luck wins again,” Illya muttered.
“Oh, she probably left a message with your office then.”
“Who would that be?”
“Miss Tillie. She lives just down the road in the opposite direction. Sweet little old lady.”
“I ain’t too sure about that, Mister. The only Tillie I ever knew killed her family one night.”
“What?”
“Yeah, now this is just hearsay at this point, but the story went that she’d been taking care of them for years, her kids weren’t quite right, you see. And then one Halloween one night, it all went south. The kids had gotten wild, I guess from all the trick or treaters coming to the door and she snapped. Killed them, ripped their eyes out and offered them up as candy to anyone who knocked on her door. At the trial, they said that she was innocent because of her own mental deficit. They let her go and she came home. Next Halloween, when they knocked on her door, there was no answer, although everyone swore they heard noises inside. The next day, they found her swinging from the chandelier in the parlor… at least part of her. The rest looked like it have been gnawed on. Hell, that must have been sixty years ago, though.”
“What did she look like?” Napoleon had a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“My mom said she was the quintessential old lady, always well dressed and she had a special Halloween apron that she always wore. It had pumpkins all over it. We kids were sure her place was haunted and we were always daring each other to go inside. One of my friends did, but while he was inside, he tripped and got hurt. Lost his eye. ”
“Poor guy.”
“Yeah, he always ended up as a pirate after that. That’s when they condemned the place. You couldn’t get me there on Halloween night for all the money in the world now.”
“Why’s that?”
“Rumor is that she lies in wait for her next victim.”
“Imagine that.” Illya shifted and grumbled.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just a little hungry.”
“Hang on a minute.” Napoleon stuck his hand into his pocket and his stomach roiled. He didn’t have to look at what he grabbed to know it was the lollipop Miss Tillie had given him. “Sorry, my mistake.” And quietly he wiped the viscous from his hand on his pants leg.