Small Town

Blumhouse Short Story: Small Town

Jaqueline wasn't a standard, card board cutout poster child. Having said that she wasn't a gothic, punk, alt kid either. Jaqueline was just Jaqueline, or Jackie if you were close enough, until she wasn't.

It's probably best to start at the beginning, small little high schooler Jackie, freshly traumatized from the new experience of moving from a massive city to the middle of nowhere, in a small town where everybody knew everybody. Obviously, most small towns always have some dumb old urban legends that are always fake, to bring in a bit of tourism or to scare little kids into behaving.

Jackie should've seen the signs. She did see the signs. Jackie ignored all of the signs. She should've listened to the warnings. Jackie should've been more careful. She made a mistake.

Jackie paid the price.

She should've taken it to heart when none of the other town residents joked about the legend. When none of them even dared to test the legend.

Jackie was the new kid in town, cool, chill, nice. Lots of other kids at the high school were eager to meet her. The kids hung out with Jackie, showed her around town, told her all of the gossip (though ironically most of it was about the parents), and all the stories.

Including the urban legend. The satanic forest, the body parts, the blood. Classic. At least that's what Jackie thought.

Jackie can't remember much of the blended together days that lead up to her demise. All she does remember is a dumb dare that lead to her walking in the near pitch black woods. Her friends had long ago run off out of fear. She wanted to follow but was distracted by the growl. The growl, so deep and dark, it's sound alone made the air freeze and burn at the same time.

One thing people always forgot about the devil is that he is not human. The bright flash of red fur, old worn and cracked hooves, horns so sharp it almost seemed like they cut the air itself, and it's face. A face so distorted she felt like puking all of her guts out and she feared she actually would in that moment. Then... gone. Everything. Everyone. All emotion. She was lost.

Jackie's body wanted to stay there, frozen in fear but she knew she had to run. She ran, and ran, and ran. Her legs felt numb and her lungs burned.

That's when she stepped in something wet and warm. She looked down at her now red shoe.

Blood. So much blood. She remembered the stories of the victims bodies drained of blood. Looking around, Jackie saw each joint, digit, and limb torn and cast aside randomly in the roughly painted pentagram on the ground.

There in the center of the bloody pentagram was her severed head.