The Goblin King --Intro Story

Pat took a long drink from the bottle of thick pink liquid in his hand, and puffed weakly on a cigarette. "Ok, let’s go over what we have again." Another swallow.

"Sheri says that the count is up to 127." Bill really hated this job sometimes. Why didn’t he just stick to sports like his gut told him to? "And counting."

The wiry editor hunched over his desk. His clothing was even more disheveled than his hair, which attempted in vain to control the bald spots on his pale head. "Sweet Jesus." There was always dismal news to report the day after Halloween, but he had never seen anything like this before. In the week that followed, it had only become worse. "All at the party?"

Bill could only nod his head. "Umm, there’s a lot that are burnt beyond recognition." Bill tried very hard not to imagine what that must have looked like.

Sheri exploded into the room carrying a handful of still wet photographs. "Shit! Not a decent one in the damn bunch. No one can get close, and the copter shots look like hell. Blackened hell." She threw herself into a chair. "Dammit!"

Pat took a deep breath and exhaled slowly trough his teeth. "So, a psycho calling himself ‘The Goblin King’ throws the party of the year, slaughters almost a tenth of the guests, then burns down the building where it all happened--while police are inside investigating, no less--and disappears like fuckin Houdini." He made it sound simple, but they had already printed everything they had. They needed something new, and the sad truth was that there simply wasn’t anything. "I can’t believe that not one of the hundreds of people that were there that night will talk," mourned the editor. "It just doesn’t make fuckin sense whatsoever. If I’d been there, I’d be yapping my guts out, to everyone!"

Sheri lit up a cigarette. "They’re not talking to anyone, Pat, not just us. Not the police, not the feds, not Oprah, not Geraldo, not Springer. They’re too scared. Christ I wish I knew what went on in there that night!"

Bill was about to say that he didn’t really want to know when he was interrupted by the pager shaking in his pocket. Reflexively he checked it, but he didn’t recognize the number. "Be right back," he muttered, thankful to get out of that room.

He came back to the room with a strange expression of anxiousness distorting his face. "I got one."

The woman who had entered Pat’s office was thin, appallingly so. "Thank you so much for coming, Miss Gilhair. Can I get you anything? Coffee, soda...?" He wanted to force some food down her throat, but that’s not why she came here he told himself. He couldn’t take the chance of offending her and losing the first witness to come forward on this nightmare.

Her short cropped black hair seemed to nod for her. "Tea please. And it’s Mrs."

He nodded strongly at Bill, and the young man left the office in search of tea.

"What can you tell us about that night?" Pat asked in his most affable voice.

The emaciated girl gazed into his face with eyes that had been crying for days. "My husband is dead." She stopped as if that was all there was to it. Sheri couldn’t repress a shiver.

"Do you have a cigarette?" She began again. Pat handed her a pack of Camels and held up a lighter for her. "Thanks."

Silence dominated the room till Bill returned with tea for their guest, and coffee for the rest of them. He looked puzzlingly at Pat, who just shook his head. "Cindy," he dared to speak, "Do you know that you’re the first person willing to talk about that night?"

"Yes, yes I do. That’s why I’m here. I’m not afraid anymore."

"You’re not afraid to think about that night anymore?"

Her hair shook. "No, I’m not afraid of him anymore."

Him? "Him who?"

"The Goblin King." She spat the words at him.

All three perked up when she said this. "Do you know who he is?" Pat asked a bit too eagerly.

"Yes," she said. "He’s the devil."

The old editor bit his lip. "I meant, do you know what his name is? Can you tell us where to find him?" She shook her hair. Pat sat back in his chair. Bill took over again.

"Cindy, can you tell us what happened at the Goblin’s Feast?" He saw a tear form in the corner of her right eye, but there was no other reaction.

When she finally spoke, it was as if in a trance. Her eyes were transfixed on something not in the room. "It was getting close to midnight, and we were all being herded into the throne room to meet our host. There was this huge, umm, grandfather clock in the back of the room, and it boomed as it rang. All of the lights went out, and when the clock was done, candles all around the throne started to light themselves. Slowly the throne started to turn, and that’s when we saw him.

"He wore this horrid rubber mask, with a hideous grin. His hair was long and wild, like some kinda eighties head banger or something. He was covered in rags that turned out to be these shredded fancy robes. Then he stood up, spreading his arms, and he was huge! I swear he was seven feet tall. And there was something else, too. I can’t say what, but he was just, oh, impressive. He was scarier than hell.

"So of course everyone started to applaud and cheer. He was the best looking costume in a room full of great looking costumes. He laughed this evil laugh. I think it was being distorted. He pulled some silver balls from out of nowhere, and started to juggle them. Then he threw them into the air and they exploded into fireworks. The place went crazy.

"Eventually, he motioned for quiet, and we finally shut up. He announced that it was time for the real party to start."

The Goblin King considered his cheering audience. Most of them were drunk, but there were enough in full control of there senses. They would be the most fun. He held out his hands to quiet them. "Ladies and gentlemen," he spoke in his gruff, hollow voice. "Halloween is a night devoted to terror, to the frights that haunt us through our days. A night when we can celebrate the most powerful of human emotions, fear! But I’m afraid that the holiday has become somewhat weakened by the passage of time. This is why we are gathered here, at the Goblin’s Feast! We are going to give Halloween back the stark terror that it deserves! I have taken it upon myself as your host to personally see that each and every one of you is scared beyond comprehension."

The crowd cheered him again. Oh how eager they were! This was simply too delicious!

"I invite you all to cast your eyes toward the ceiling. There’s someone I want you to meet." A spotlight illuminated somebody hanging from the ceiling four stories in the air. "Meet Darren, ladies and gentlemen," prompted The Goblin King. Darren was tied up, the crowd noticed, and there was a gag over his mouth. "Darren is deathly afraid of heights, aren’t you, Darren?" Darren didn’t move, but there was sweat on his forehead, and panic in his eyes. "Darren decided to come to my Halloween party dressed as a, what was it Darren? A ‘doctor?’ Can you imagine!"

The Goblin King giggled as the anticipation started to swell within him. "Darren is going to be the night’s first victim." The rope that held Darren captive jerked and he dropped several feet. Women screamed, and boyfriends told them it was just an act. Darren was sobbing. "Poor Darren. If only he’d dressed as a lawyer. Now THAT would be scary!" His laugh was terrifying, and helped to sober the crowd, who was starting to grow suspicious that this wasn’t an act.

"Why Darren," intoned The Goblin King. "I do believe that rope is on fire!" As if on cue, fire leapt up the rope from where it was tied to the wall and traced a blue and yellow streak to the ceiling. The captive figure danced and screamed.

The crowd was silent. The only sounds to echo in that enormous stone room were the host’s insidious laughter and the captive’s muffled pleas.

The rope jerked again. This time Darren fell at least twenty feet, and when he was snapped back his neck warped to inhuman angles. Darren’s muffled screaming ceased, only to be replaced by the screams of the crowd directly below him. Somebody laughed nervously, and people started to scold each other for being afraid.

"Darren?" The Goblin King sounded almost concerned. "Darren? You’re not dead are you?" The robed figure stepped forward. "Darren!" No response, except for the swinging of the lifeless body hanging from the ceiling. "Damn! I wasn’t done with him yet." At a wave of his hand, the former doctor fell into the crowd below.

The crowd spread out as a puddle invaded by a rock--a large, dead rock. One brave soul ventured froward to investigate what the fall had left of Darren. "Oh shit!" he screamed, lurching backwards. "He’s really dead!"

The Goblin King sat back on his throne, chuckling low to himself. "Well of course he is. He just fell nearly forty feet. I had hoped to play with him a bit more, but perhaps it’s better this way."

"I wanna go home." This was echoed often throughout the quickly sobering assembly The guests thronged toward the massive doors to discover that they had been locked. A swell of panic rose in the crowd. The Goblin King let it grow, relishing the chaos before him, waiting for the climax to arrive.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid that the evening isn’t over yet. Those doors won’t open until sunrise. Please, come back in." They didn’t want to, but their host could be very charming. Even wearing that grotesque mask, he could be very charming.

"It is time for the real festivities to begin. You have the run of the castle until morning, at which time you may leave. Or you may not."

A young woman, a vampire, down in front spoke the question on the guests behalf. "What’s the game?"

He looked down at her admiringly. "Haven’t you guessed yet? This is the Goblin’s Feast, my dear.

"And it is time for my goblins to feast!"

Lights flared on revealing the a mass of so called goblins bordering the room. They wore different clothes, but they all had hideous, ochre-green faces with long pointed noses, sharp ears, and wide hungry grins. Some held gleaming silver knives in their hands; others sickles; still others ropes with ominous ties in them.

"Ladies and gentlemen," began The Goblin King for the last time. "If you should survive till morning, you shall be free to leave. Good luck."

"You can’t be serious." said the young vampire. "You’re kidding right?"

The grotesque grin gazed into her, and she saw his eyes, his steel blue eyes that told her that he was quite serious. She screamed.

The scream that she triggered was louder than any concert, thought their host. And much more entertaining. Yet above the collected panic in the room, all of them could still hear his terrible laughter, right up to where the lights went out.

Cindy and Ronnie Gilhair ran up the narrow stone stairs. Somehow Ronnie had guided them through the frightened mob in the throne room to a series of sparsely lit rooms. Cindy kept mumbling this isn’t happening as Ronnie pulled her towards what he hoped would be an exit. From a dark corner a goblin had leapt out at them wielding an evil hook. They changed directions and ran toward this staircase.

Ronnie stopped to listen for sounds of pursuit. The only sound was Cindy’s sobbing. He held her arms in his. "There there, baby girl. Don’t worry. We’re gonna be ok. Shush now," he whispered soothingly. Cindy buried her face in his shoulders. "Oh god, oh god! What are we going to do?"

"Let’s see what’s up these stairs. Everyone’s down there, and we could be safe." Cindy felt badly about that idea, but since she didn’t know what else to do, she nodded.

They walked up the stairs now, carefully listening for any sound that might betray danger. This place was incredible, Ronnie found himself thinking. It looks so much like a real castle, or at least what he imagined a real castle to look like. It must have cost a fortune. Cindy was not so impressed by it. All she could think was that someone had gone to an awful lot of trouble to commit such, such evil!

At the top of the stairs they found a door, a large wooden door with brass adornments. It was ajar. There was light beyond, but there was no sound. Cindy grabbed Ronnie’s sleeve, wanting to scream let’s go the other way! But Ronnie just gave her a reassuring smile, and slowly, very slowly, stuck his head inside.

He saw a large landing with open windows facing the night sky. There was a small desk which held a lantern, and there was a chain stretching toward the ceiling and looped around a big iron ring. There was no one present. Gently, Ronnie pushed open the door. The squeal made both of them jump, and Cindy bit into her lip to keep from screaming.

"Come on, baby girl. I think we’ll be safe here." When they were both in, Ronnie bolted the door shut and sighed loudly. Cindy raced to a window and looked out over the desert. She wasn’t afraid of heights, really, but this was high enough to make her uncomfortable. Ronnie came to her, and they sat huddled together under the window, trying to comfort one another.

They sat in silence for a long time. Occasionally a scream would reach their ears from down the long staircase. When it did, she pulled him closer and started sobbing again. Once a shriek was heard out their window, followed by a sickening wet thud. They wanted to look, but knew it was too dangerous to risk it. So she cried again, and they prayed for morning.

It had been silent for a long time, how long Ronnie wasn’t sure (why didn’t he wear his watch tonight, dammit?). He wasn’t sure he was really hearing the footfalls. The mind loves to create false imprdssions in situations like this, he thought. Not that he’d ever been in a situation like this before, and he hoped never to again! There was definitely someone coming up the stairs now. He held Cindy tightly and watched the bolted door closely. He wasn’t a great fighter, but if he had to he knew he would fight fiercely to keep his baby girl safe.

The steps were very loud at the end, as if the person wanted to be heard. They stopped outside the door, and there was silence again. Ronnie wanted to throw up.

Impossibly, the bolt started to rise. Ronnie shook his head in denial, but it didn’t stop. Cindy’s lip bled where she bit it. Ronnie rose and walked to the center of the room anticipating a fight. The bolt fell away from the door. Their throats tightened as they waited for the door to open.

It didn’t open, however. It didn’t move at all. The door seemed to be mocking them. After several minutes that seemed like several hours, Cindy made a frantic gesture for him to bolt the door again. He carefully proceeded to the door and slid the bolt back in place. He backed away quickly. His face was pale. "I heard breathing!" he mouthed at her. She shook her head not understanding. Anxious, he whispered "Breathing!" while pointing at the door.

Cindy covered her mouth and stared at the door. She was starting to hate that door!

The bolt slid upwards again. Cindy rushed forward to push down on it, but she stopped cold when she heard the laugh on the other side. She ran to Ronnie and buried her face in his chest.

Finally, it creaked opened. It stopped after opening only a few inches. The dim light from that lantern on the desk was barely enough to show the dark reptile that slithered through the door. Cindy felt Ronnie stiffen. Daring to look, she instantly spotted the serpent winding it’s way into their room. A chill ran through her. She didn’t like snakes at all. It was only when Ronnie began to whimper that she remembered the terrible phobia he had of them. Oh god, Ronnie! "Honey? Talk to me. Talk to me, Ronnie!"

Another snake slid in behind its sister, the tongue flickering, threatening. It was followed by yet another.

"Damn!" muttered Cindy. "It had to be snakes!" She stood and pulled on Ronnie’s arm, but he wouldn’t move. "Ronnie, sweetie, come on, now. Please Ronnie. Dammit Ronnie, look at me!" She slapped him hard across his pale face as she yelled at him. He looked at her and seemed to remember himself.

"We’ve got to get out of here," he choked. He ran to the window searching for an escape. It was much too far down, but he might be able to grab that ledge and pull himself up. He wished for not the first time in his life that he were an athlete of some sort. Maybe it wasn’t too far down. He had heard stories of people who fell much further than this and lived to tell about it. The human body was remarkably durable. If he just--

"Ronnie, they’re getting closer," said Cindy in an unnaturally calm voice. He didn’t look. He couldn’t look. In the silence that followed there was only the hissing of the serpents that crawled the floor in here, and the beating of his own heart.

"Let’s get on that desk," she suggested. It was a good idea, but he couldn’t move. Cindy walked to the desk, making a wide circle around one snake which seemed to be hunting for something, and pulled the fragile wooden desk toward Ronnie. "Here, climb up here."

Ronnie closed his eyes and did as she told him. The desk creaked and shifted under him, but it held.

Cindy backed toward a wall. The desk was too small for them both. Something brushed her ankle and she let a tiny scream escape. She danced to the side, shaking her arms desperately.

A strong hand seized her right wrist and twisted it cruelly. Cindy whimpered slightly and turned to stare once again into the steel blue eyes of The Goblin King. She noted how cruel those eyes were, and yet they were so happy. He had to be insane. "Hello, Mrs. Gilhair," he taunted. Cindy screamed.

Ronnie opened his eyes. The sight of his wife in the grip of their demented host made his mind race. He thought of leaping off the desk and tackling The Goblin King to the floor, of pounding his hideous grin into pulp. But he didn’t move. There was a very large constrictor draped around The Goblin King’s shoulders. He could see now that there were several small snakes moving throughout the madman’s robes. Ronnie grew nauseated. A shiver fought through his body. But Cindy was crying! He had to do something! But, but the snakes...

"And good evening to you too, Mr. Gilhair. How are the newlyweds tonight?" His eyes turned on Ronnie menacingly. "Oh, there you are my pretties!" He leaned over to pick up one of the snakes on the floor, never letting go of Cindy’s wrist. She grimaced as he twisted. "I was wondering where you’d gone off to. Have the young lovers been keeping you company?"

He turned once again toward Cindy letting her go. "Do stand up straight, my dear, or this is going to go very poorly." She wanted to run, but his voice compelled her to straighten up as she rubbed her wrist. A gloved hand held the snake out toward her face close enough for her to see it’s fangs. She cringed. "Stand still!" The voice commanded, and she did. Ronnie stared helplessly as The Goblin King laid the scaly reptile over Cindy’s shoulder.

He started to cry. "No! No, please don’t. I’ll do anything you want, but please don’t..." His throat tightened.

"We," stated the man in the grotesque mask as he placed another snake on her other shoulder, "are going to conduct a little experiment." He placed another snake on her white neck. "You, my dear, are going to be covered in venomous sssnakesss." He hissed worse than any snake could. Even without a serious fear of them, she was quite petrified by the scales that now ran over her skin, and down into her blouse. She bit her lip till it bled.

"Now, you are going to be perfectly safe, I assure you. Oww!" He held a hand up, displaying a three foot creature dangling from his wrist. It had sunk it’s fangs into The Goblin King’s flesh.

"Damn. Bad Lucifer, bad!" he said, as if scolding a child for spilling it’s cereal. He managed to pry the head off and dropped at his captive’s feet. "Don’t worry. They hardly ever do that without being told." He laughed. "But I wouldn’t move if I were you, just in case."

If they hadn’t believed that he was insane in the throne room, this left little room interpretation. Ronnie violently threw up everything that was in his system. When it was all gone, he heaved some more.

"As I was saying, Cindy here will be draped in these lovely creatures. Then, I shall take a small timer, like this, and set it high on the wall behind her like so." He sounded as though he were explaining that two plus two equals four to a room of first graders. "In five minutes, it shall make a great deal of noise, and I quite expect for Dear young Cindy here to be punctured quite liberally." His gritty dark voice dictated the gruesome fate in pedantic tones that belied their intention. Cindy swallowed hard, afraid to move. "It will be up to Ronnie here to remove the snakes from her body before the timer goes off. Simple?"

Ronnie couldn’t see clearly. What? He had to remove the snakes? He stared at Cindy’s frozen form, her eyes pleading. "No, please, not that, not that." He shook his head weakly.

The Goblin King approached him for the first time. "You did say that you would do anything, Mr. Gilhair. I wish to find out which is stronger here, your primal fear of snakes, or your fear for the life of your beloved bride. Which do you think it is?"

"Why," prompted Cindy in a small voice. "Why are you doing this?"

"The Goblin King walked to a window and sat on the wide ledge. He stroked the constrictor that undulated about his neck. "Are you afraid, my dear?" he asked in return.

Nodding slightly, so as not to disturb the number of fanged creatures roaming about her, she said "Yes. Oh god, yes."

The Goblin King relaxed. "That," he said nobly, "is why."

Cindy couldn’t look at their insane captor anymore. She turned to Ronnie. His face was pleading with her, begging her. His head shook from side to side as he mumbled over and over "no no no no..."

"There’s only four minutes left," noted the man on the window ledge.

Gingerly, cautiously, Ronnie placed his feet on the stone floor.

"Sweetie, no," whispered Cindy. She could see the terror in his eyes. She was scared, too, but she couldn’t let him do it. "Ronnie, get back on the desk. Ronnie!" She hissed at him. "If you don’t step back right now you’re not getting any for a week!" It was all she could think of to say, and she almost laughed. Ronnie didn’t seem to hear her. He was coming closer, staring at the snake on her left shoulder, rubbing the palms of his hands on his pants. "Ronnie, step back to the desk or I’ll move on purpose, dammit!"

"You will do no such thing!" commanded The Goblin King. "You will remain still until he has either removes them, or until the chime goes off!"

He was right. Cindy wasn’t sure that she could move even if she wanted to. Her husband had not reacted at all. He was deaf to everything but the hissing of her living necklaces. Sweat made the makeup he had worn run down his cheeks. His eyes were sunken, and there was no blood in his cheeks at all. His dried lips were open so slightly and his breathing was very shallow. But his hand was steady as it reached behind the fanged head of the guardian on her left shoulder.

It hissed wildly and thrashed about snapping it’s jaws. Calmly, he pulled it away from her. Cindy couldn’t breathe. With a sudden quickness he threw the snake out the open window next to them. Cindy’s chest sank as she exhaled with relief. He shot his stare into her eyes warning her not to move. She didn’t like what she saw there. Ronnie was nowhere in those cold eyes. Cindy closed her own so that she couldn’t see them anymore.

"That’s one," laughed the man on the other side of the room. "Really, I’m very impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you, Ronnie." Whenever he spoke their names, it sent chills down Cindy’s spine. "Your husband is quite brave, Cindy. I wonder what is going on in his mind right now?"

A sudden quiet came over Cindy. She opened her eyes and watched Ronnie throw another snake out the window. "I love you," she whispered hoarsely. Without changing expressions, he answered, "I love you, too." She smiled. He was unwinding one snake from around her right arm. They were going to be ok, she thought to herself.

That snake went out the window. Then another. There were no more visible, so Ronnie began to unbutton her blouse. He drew it open and saw it coiled around her waistline. The sight of this devil creature against the clean white flesh of the woman he loved made his anger rise. The snake stared at him, mocking him. Ronnie’s eyes never blinked. They stared at each other for eons.

When the chime went off Cindy Gilhair shrieked in echo. The snake was shaken out of it’s reverie. The jaws opened. For all it’s speed, the snake could not avoid the crushing hand that enveloped it’s head. Ronnie pulled back and whipped the snake angrily into the cold stone floor, breaking it’s back instantly.

Her shrieking stopped, and Cindy rushed forward to capture her husband in a desperate embrace. He finally returned it, crying. The Goblin King walked to the wall, pulled down the alarm, and silenced it.

"Mmmm, that’s a nasty bite, Ronnie. I’d get it checked if I were you."

The lovers separated. Their eyes met. They were both crying. She took his hand and inspected it. There were two large gashes in the palm near the pinkie finger. Blood dribbled out of the purple flesh. He winced. Panic seized her mind. No, no no no! They were so close! He had done it, dammit! He was supposed to be safe--it wasn’t fair! Her breathing became rapid and shallow. What does one do for a snakebite? She should know this, dammit! She should know this. "Oh, god," was all she could say. When their eyes met again, they both knew. He was calm, accepting. She kissed him passionately.

Their host was at the door. "That was a particularly nasty species. In a few minutes, the convulsions will start. Next comes--"

"SHUT UP!" screamed Cindy so violently that she was amazed it had come out of her mouth. She felt her head being pulled in towards ronnie’s chest. He was stroking her hair.

"The sun will be up in just under two hours. Congratulations." He went through the door laughing.

"I love you so much," coughed Ronnie. "I couldn’t imagine living without you." His knees buckled and he sank to the floor. Cindy wept and held his head in her lap. Together they waited. It wasn’t long at all before the convulsions started.

Sheri’s tears had streaked her face. Bill, too was crying. Pat wore a horrible grimace. The only face in the office that seemed impassive was Cindy’s own. The old editor knew better, though. The silence lasted a very long time. No one prompted her to continue. She would, they knew. So they waited, and carefully thought about the horror story that they had just heard.

Finally, she continued. "When the sun rose, his voice echoed through the castle. He said that everyone was free to leave, but we were never to tell anything of what happened. He said that he knew who everyone was, and that he’d be watching us. Every last one of us. If we tell, he’s going to make us wish for that night again." She blindly lit the last cigarette. "His voice was so terrible, so powerful even over the loudspeakers. I didn’t move. It wasn’t until the castle was being burned down that I left the tower. I barely made it out. I wish I hadn’t."

Pat offered "We’ll run the story anonymously. No one will know it’s you." Bill agreed enthusiastically.

She said that it didn’t matter. "He knows I’m here right now. I’m sure of it. But I’m done with it. I don’t care anymore. And I’m not afraid of that bastard. I want him to pay. I want him dead."

"Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you," said the wiry editor. "We’ll get you some protection somehow."

Cindy said noncommittally "Thanks."

Cindy’s story ran the next day, anonymously. One week later, the following ran: