The October 2009 Special Guest Story is by Alan Draven
Please feel free to contact Alan Draven at bitternest@hotmail.com
The Rattling Man
By Alan Draven
It was October 31 in Bitternest, Louisiana and the rolling mist added an eerie touch to the overcast autumn scenery. Dylan’s father dropped him off at school that day.
He waved goodbye as his dad drove away. He walked into the schoolyard, proud of his Halloween costume; he was dressed up as Dracula. In the yard, three of his friends were waiting for him.
“I like your costume,” Billy, a ten year old boy dressed up as Michael Myers said.
“Thanks! My dad made it for me,” Dylan said.
“I was being sarcastic, idiot,” Billy said, and the two other boys snickered. The other two were not dressed up in any costume at all.
“Don’t you know vampires are outdated?” Jake, the chubbiest boy, said. “I’d rather wear nothing than be dressed as a blood sucker.”
“It’s not just any vampire, it’s Dracula!” Dylan said in his own defense.
“Whatever. It won’t do you any good if the Rattling Man comes after you,” Brandon said. At twelve years of age, he was the oldest of the boys.
“Who’s the Rattling Man?” Dylan asked, his enthusiasm vanishing.
“You don’t know who the Rattling Man is? God, you must be stupid,” Jake said.
“The Rattling Man is the meanest of the bogeymen,” Brandon explained. “He comes out every Halloween to steal children’s souls. When the sun goes down and the children go door to door trick or treating, and the Rattling Man follows them. When the Rattling Man gets a chance, he comes out of the shadows and steals kids’ souls. Once he’s got your soul, he kills you.” Brandon’s eyes were as wide and dark as plums.
Jake and Billy had smirks on their faces, obviously delighted to see Dylan frightened by Brandon’s story.
“You’re making this up. You just want to scare me.”
“Nope, I swear it’s true. He’s been scaring kids and stealing their souls since the 1980s. Ask your folks if you don’t believe me, they’ll tell you. He’s killed over fifty kids in Bitternest since then,” Brandon said.
“I heard he’s seven feet tall with big yellow bug eyes,” Billy said. “He’s got lobster hands and not a hair on his head. What you really need to watch out for is his one-inch metal teeth. That’s why they call him the Rattling Man, because he clatters his teeth together and it makes a rattling noise.” Billy mimicked the sound with his teeth.
Dylan was trembling. He wasn’t sure he believed them, but if they wanted to scare him, they achieved their goal with flying colors. The school bell rang. All the kids in the schoolyard hurried to get inside. They would listen to ghost stories, eat candy, and draw witches and pumpkins all day. Dylan wasn’t so sure he wanted to take part in the festivities anymore.
“Hey, snap out of it, dummy; the bell rang. We’re gonna be late.” Jake pushed him.
“Remember, Dylan, stay away from the shadows tonight. You never know when the Rattling Man is hiding in one of them,” Billy taunted, running toward the entrance.
Moments later, all the children had gone inside, but Dylan hadn’t moved a muscle. Dylan was left alone in the schoolyard. He didn’t want to trick or treat anymore. Resigned, he headed for the open doors.
* * * *
At 3:00 PM, when the school bell announced that the day was over, all the kids screamed “trick or treat!”
Brandon, Jake and Billy snickered at the back of the class at poor Dylan who’d been upset all day. Nothing had succeeded in getting Dylan’s mind off of the Rattling Man.
As he began walking home, Dylan found himself looking over his shoulder every few paces. He lived fifteen minutes from school but the walk home seemed to take forever.
The deviant fog hovered around the city like a cloak intent on smothering everything in its path. The wind blew the red and gold leaves in his face and made the trees wail.
When he finally made it home, he took off his makeup and threw the Dracula costume on his bed. His dad would be home shortly. He was used to being alone after school; his mom had passed away when he’d been only five. Any other day he wouldn’t have minded, but this was the one day that he didn’t want to be left alone in the big house. The sounds of the house settling made him jump.
He turned on the television to watch some cartoons. He kept glancing at the clock; his dad would be home in less than an hour. What if the Rattling Man hid in the bushes below his bedroom window, waiting for darkness to make his move on him? Or worse; what if he were hiding in his closet? Dylan decided that he wouldn’t go back to his bedroom until his father returned.
The sound of his dad’s old Buick pulling over to the curb never sounded so sweet. Dylan ran to the door to welcome his father home.
“How was your day, Dylan?”
“It was all right, I guess.”
“What’s the matter, you ate too many candies?”
“No ... It’s just the guys at school; they told me a scary story.”
“That’s what Halloween’s all about, son, stories. You know, things that go bump in the night.” His father smiled. “That’s half the fun of this holiday. The other half lies in trick or treating. Are you ready to fill up some bags with candy tonight?”
“Do we really have to go?” Dylan was definitely upset.
“Dylan! Come on, we’ll have a good time. Forget about what those kids told you, they were just teasing you, that’s all. Let’s have dinner and as soon as twilight sets in, we’ll go knocking door to door for some candy, deal?”
Dylan barely touched anything in his plate; he’d lost his appetite. His father seemed bent on celebrating Halloween. All Dylan wanted to do was to stay in and hide under the covers in his room, after he had his dad check his closet, of course.
But his father was persistent. “They really got to you, didn’t they? Usually, you devour your plate when I make lasagna but tonight, you haven’t had more than three bites. What was the story about?”
“Have you ever heard of the Rattling Man, dad?”
The father stopped chewing his food when he heard his son utter that name. “So that’s what’s been scaring you, the Rattling Man? I haven’t heard that name in years.”
“Does he really exist?”
“No, it’s an old tale to scare kids on Halloween and judging by your reaction, I’d say it worked.”
“But Jake, Brandon, and Billy said he’s real,” Dylan protested, “and that he’s killed over fifty kids since the 1980s.”
The father pushed his plate away. “Well, there was a serial killer who went after kids in the eighties, if that’s who they’re referring to. That’s all it ever was; a deranged man killing children. There’s no such thing as the Rattling Man or any kind of supernatural monster, for that matter.” He paused, then went on. “Stories of the Rattling Man date from way before the 1980s; he used to scare me too when I was your age, you know. I remember sleeping with the lights on in my room every Halloween from the age of ten to fifteen.”
“Did they ever catch him, the bad man who killed all those children in the 1980s?”
His father hesitated to answer. “I’m not sure; I would assume so. Listen, there’s nothing to worry about, Dylan. I’m going to be right behind you every door you knock on. God have mercy on anyone who tries to harm you. You know I’d never let anything happen to you. Besides, there’s no such thing as the bogeyman, I give you my word on that.”
Dylan smiled; he felt a bit better.
“You still wanna go trick or treating?” his father asked.
“Okay, I guess there’s nothing to be afraid of if you’re with me.”
“That’s the spirit! Come on, let’s go put your makeup on and dress you up with the cape and fangs.”
They spent the night going from door to door. Dylan managed to fill two garbage-size bags. More kids than the year before had turned up this Halloween: mummies, fairies, witches, vampires, and werewolves were roaming the streets.
After three hours of trick or treating, Dylan and his dad returned home. The night had gone by without any unfortunate incidents. The Rattling Man hadn’t made any victims this year—or so it seemed. Dylan was happy that he was forgetting about him; he hoped the thoughts wouldn’t come creeping back once he’d get to bed.
They arrived at the house and Dylan climbed out of his costume, washed his face, and jumped into bed. His father came to tuck him in and emptied the bags of candy in a big basket. There was enough gum, chocolate, and lollipops to last until Christmas.
A little while after his dad had tucked him in, Dylan began tossing and turning in bed.
He couldn’t sleep.
He could hear teeth chattering and see yellow eyes glowing in the darkness of the room. The trees outside were casting shadows on the walls; he kept imagining they would leap at him. Everywhere he turned, even with his eyes shut, all he could see was the Rattling Man. A branch struck the window and made him jump. He hid under the covers.
This was no good; what if the Rattling Man had snuck inside the house while they were gone and was hiding behind his closet door? Dylan took a deep breath and mustered enough courage to jump out of bed. He ran across the room to turn on the night lamp.
There, it was better now. The shadows of the trees didn’t seem so frightening anymore. He brought a comic book into bed and started reading. All he had to do was to make it to the next morning and the Rattling Man would leave him alone—until next Halloween, that is. He was in the middle of his third comic book when he began yawning incessantly. Dylan was so exhausted that he fell asleep a little before midnight.
Meanwhile, his father was in the basement, looking through an old photo album he’d dug out from a box he hadn’t opened in over a decade. The box was like a time capsule, containing an assortment of souvenirs and knick knacks from a time when he was much younger.
An onslaught of memories rushed at him. When he was Dylan’s age, three of his friends had gone missing that fateful Halloween night in 1976. They were found lifeless, nailed on the three crosses in the garden behind St. Jude’s church the next day—their mouths devoid of teeth, their eyes gone from their sockets. That was over thirty years ago.
Rumors of the Rattling Man were rampant back then. It had lasted throughout the mid-1980’s; back in those years, every Halloween it was the same in Bitternest—some kids stayed home, too frightened to venture outside to trick or treat.
But since then, a full decade had passed and fear of the Rattling Man seemed to die down. Halloween nights had gone back to normal, free of child murders. Kids began to trick or treat again, making sure they always stayed within shouting range of their parents.
People began to forget. Dylan’s father didn’t.
Now his son knew about the vile legend of the taker of children’s souls. Had the Rattling Man resurfaced after all these years? Nobody had brought up his name in such a long time; it was almost as if he’d disappeared because people had stopped believing in him.
Dylan’s father put the photo album away; sometimes old memories were better left alone. He glanced at his watch; it was a little after midnight. He had a feeling this Halloween night was going to be a long one.
* * * *
The next morning, Dylan was driven to school by his father, as usual. The sun was out and things didn’t look as grim as they had the previous day. Dylan didn’t fear the Rattling Man anymore; Halloween was over. He’d have an entire year to forget about him.
After he was dropped off, Dylan looked for Jake, Brandon, and Billy, but they were nowhere to be found. When the bell rang, he went in and headed for his classroom. Still no sign of his three pals. The teacher was also late. When she finally showed up, she looked distraught.
“I have some terrible news, kids. I’m afraid we’re going to have to cancel classes today. Billy, Brandon, and Jake—” she began sobbing. “Their bodies were found early this morning behind St-Jude’s church. Call your parents and have them pick you up immediately. You’re all dismissed for the day.”
The class fell quiet as a lake in winter. Dylan was terrified; the church was five blocks from his house. It could’ve been his body out there along with theirs. He wanted to call his father, but knew better—his dad couldn’t afford to miss work. He ran all the way home without looking back.
When he got to the house, he went in through the garage door which led to the kitchen. The garage was so messy that he didn’t know where to set his feet, trying to go around his father’s tools and spare tires on the floor. He’d almost reached the door when he caught sight of something that sent a chill down his spine. Resting on his father’s workbench was a bald wig, a set of one-inch metallic teeth, yellow contacts, and a pair of lobster shaped gloves.
Canada's Alan Draven has written over 400 poems, hundreds of film and book reviews, two novels, three novellas, and a dozen short stories. His stories have been published as part of Amazon Shorts, in Darkened Horizons, NexGen Pulp magazine, SNM Horror magazine, the Bonded By Blood anthology, 9 of Swords e-zine, and in audio format on Dreadtime Stories. His first novel, Bitternest, was published in 2007. In 2008, he founded the small publisher Pixie Dust Press and edited its first book, the gothic anthology Sinister Landscapes featuring the best of today's independent horror writers. Creeping Shadows features his latest work, a novella about Jack the Ripper titled Vengeance is Mine. (pictured below).
Visit Alan Draven at http://www.alandraven.com/ or at his Pixie Dust Press website at http://pixiedustpress.weebly.com/
