Welcome to the serialized version of my debut novella, Cherry Kills. If you’re just joining us, head over to the Navigation Page, or start directly from Episode One. If you’d prefer to read this in another format, head on over to Tiny Worlds Publishing and pick up the paperback or ebook!
CK was edited by S.E. Reid
Episodes:
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Eighty-sixed
Two days later, Cherry was standing outside of the Gut Punch. It felt good to be out of the apartment again.
“Wait here,” Uncle said, strolling into the club. He was against coming back to the Gut Punch, thought it was reckless and unnecessary—which, maybe it was—but Cherry told him he had no choice in the matter. Still, she didn’t want him complaining the entire time, so she told him he could go to the backroom and scope it out first.
The doorman shook his head as Cherry approached. “I don’t think so, honey. You’re eighty-sixed.”
“Eighty-sixed? For what?”
“I think you know why.” The doorman got up from his stool and blocked the door.
“Was it because I called you sweet as pie? I apologize. You’re as bitter as an orange rind. Better?”
“Who do you think had to clean that back room up at the end of the night? Who do you think they get to do that bullshit?”
Cherry made a pouty face. “Sucks to be you, champ. Hey, can I ask you a question?”
“Will you leave after?”
Cherry always seemed to have a way with getting what she wanted. Ramon said it was the gift of gab, but it always felt like something more than just being able to bullshit.
“Deal,” she said.
“Ask away.”
“Last night, that chick who was painting your mural…was she with anyone?” Cherry leaned against the brick wall. Inside the club Uncle was returning from the back, looking around with his chest puffed out.
“Yeah, she was with some dude. He got pretty hammered during the headliner. He started talking all this crazy shit to anyone and everyone—dude tried to punch me! I ended up clocking homie in the jaw. You know him?”
“Dude’s a creeper,” she said. “I think he’s stalking me or something…I don’t know.”
“Yeah, fuck that guy. Steer clear of him. He was talking real crazy—said he was going to be my king one day or something. He said that right before I laid him out. When he came to, he mumbled some shit about a Dog Star, got up, and stumbled on down the road.”
Cherry narrowed her eyes. “Dog Star? Weird. My dad called me that sometimes.” She thought back to when she was a girl; her dad told her about the night he’d first kissed her mom, beneath the velvety Egyptian sky. He said she pointed up to the brightest star in the sky and told him about the Dog Star. And that when Cherry was born, it was almost like that star had come straight down to Earth.
Uncle came out, turned the corner, and started back down the street toward the apartment. “Mark ain’t glowin’, and someone threw paint over the mural.”
“You okay?” said the doorman. “You having an aneurysm or something?”
“Sorry—I’m good,” said Cherry. “What’s up with that mural in there? That chick come back and paint the rest yet?”
“That’s another reason I punched that clown last night. He threw paint all over the mural. I was here all night cleaning up after that fool.” The doorman shook his head.
Cherry looked to the back of the club—how did Uncle see that the mural had been painted over? She leaned in and whispered to the bouncer, “And nothing weird happened back there while you were cleaning up?”
“He didn’t come back, if that’s what you mean.”
Cherry paused, then said, “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Well, I appreciate you, champ. Real heroes don’t wear capes and all that shit. Stay safe.”
“You too. But really, don’t come back.”
“You love me, don’t pretend otherwise.”
Cherry followed behind Uncle and her Alternates. She looked up to the sky, but there were no stars, only dark clouds. And there were no answers, only more questions.
Kill Your Television
Up ahead of Cherry, walking down the stained but vacuumed floral carpet leading to her apartment, Daisy stretched her arms and yawned. Elwood patted her head, and then looked back at Cherry with that expressionless face of his. It was a face that should have creeped her out: cold, almost like a Halloween mask permanently affixed to his head, but it was oddly comforting to her. It reminded her of a stuffed animal that she had when she was just a girl. A gift from her mom before she left, her dad had said.
“Well, is that it?” asked Uncle. “Can we get back to looking for a job?”
Cherry shrugged. “Who the hell would hire me? I wouldn’t hire me.”
“You can work at Black Garlic. Ramon loves you, and he’s a compare.” Uncle nodded as though the matter was settled. Then he looked up, watching a moth caught in the tulip-shaped sconce flutter about, casting shadows on the wall.
“Yeah, maybe…” Cherry went to insert her key in the door, but when she touched the doorknob, the door opened on its own. She raised a brow. Cleopatra was soundlessly playing on the television. “Did I leave the TV on?”
Uncle turned around as Cherry was heading inside. “Cherry, wait!”
The door slammed shut behind her. She turned around and pulled on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Uncle slammed into the door repeatedly, the door shaking with each attempt.
How did it shake? He’s not real.
Cherry looked around the room. On the wall above the television was the same symbol from the club, glowing. Pulsing. Threatening.
“Eff…” Cherry put up her fists.
“Cherry,” shouted Uncle from the other side of the door. “What’s going on in there? You okay?”
“There’s a glowing symbol on the wall,” she replied, “but I’m not underwater, so…okay-ish?”
The movie cut to static, the snow lighting up the room with noisy whites.
“Well, now I’m a little freaked out,” she said. “We’ve got a ‘they’re here’ moment happening. Could really use some help.”
At first it was only a finger, too thin to be an adult’s, too long to be a child’s. Then came the hand; blue veins like worms pulsed under translucent skin. Its arthritic knuckles grabbed at the air. The knobby shillelagh-arm flung about, protruding from the television screen.
Cherry tried the door again, but it wouldn’t budge.
A second arm came through the screen. Then a third, fourth, fifth and sixth arm—until there were too many to count, all grabbing toward Cherry, who circled away from the television into the kitchen, pulled a knife from the knife block, and gritted her teeth. She never thought she’d be so desperate to have Uncle and her Alternates at her side, but she was alone in this fight.
She ran back to the door and tried again, but it still wouldn’t budge.
Then, all of the arms retreated back into the television. Cherry exhaled.
A body exploded from the television in a wave of bubblegum-pink afterbirth, splattering across the walls and onto Cherry’s face and neck.
“Uncle, I need you!”
The creature got to its feet, dragging itself up off the floor using the back of the couch, trying to find its balance like a wobbly-legged nightmare colt. It was slim-faced and wore a long woeful expression, and its large, oval eyes were filled with the same noisy static as the television. It licked its lips with a pale-pink tongue and sniffed at the air.
Cherry ran for the bedroom as the creature found its legs, darting to cut her off, sliding and crashing into her bookshelf. It opened its mouth and a deafening static filled the room. Cherry covered her ears and stumbled backwards. This was the end. But hey, at least she wouldn’t have to look for a job now.
Two more of the same nightmare creatures climbed out of the television. One of the monsters was missing its legs, the other was only a body with a gnarled arm sticking out from where its head should have been, dragging itself across the floor, leaving a trail of pink goo.
SMASH!
The door exploded open as Uncle came flying into the room, raining down splintered wood and metal hinges. Elwood and Daisy followed.
Cherry’s lip quivered. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to have Alternates, if only so she wouldn’t die alone. But how did Uncle break down the door? she thought. She wondered if this was it, and if she was in the midst of a full-on psychotic break. But there was no time to consider it—break or not, this was happening.
“Mama, what are these things?” Daisy shouted.
“Maybe I’ve been watching too much TV!”
Uncle kicked the legless creature’s head like a football, killing it instantly, but the creature with an arm for a head grabbed his leg, sinking its slender fingers into Uncle’s flesh as more of them began to climb out of the television set.
Cherry yelled, “Daisy, unplug the set!”
Daisy ran over and unplugged the television set, but it still glowed, and the creatures kept coming. Elwood hopped to the back of the set and kicked it onto its face. Then he sat on it, folded his arms, and did a quick head nod to say, “And that’s that.”
A static-eyed nightmare skulked, dragging its long fingers along the side of the wall, leaving four delicate black lines, as if each fingertip were a soldering iron. Crimson drool extended from its lips.
Cherry held her knife out in front of her. “I’ll mess you up, my dude. Back off!”
Uncle threw the arm-headed nightmare out of the apartment, and when it crossed the threshold it sizzled, then vanished.
Daisy shouted, “Did you see that? The monsters can’t get us if we’re not in the apartment!”
“She’s right!” shouted Uncle. “Cherry! Run!”
Cherry pivoted to run, but a slender hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. The pain was intense; her flesh hissed and smoked. She thought it fitting that she should feel the same pain as her dad when he died. To be burned alive felt right.
She looked into the television-eyes of the creature and remembered a time when she was twelve; she and her dad were already living at the Sequoia apartments. He’d passed out drunk on the couch again, this time while smoking. She’d come out of her room because the static from the television had woken her from sleep, and the couch was ablaze. She’d thrown a pot of water onto the couch to put it out, but it went all over the television too. The TV set was ruined, of course.
Cherry grabbed the disgusting Snapple sitting on the counter and threw it into the noisy eyes of the creature.
It opened its mouth and hissed, but it let go of Cherry’s arm. Then she ran to the door and out into the hallway. Her Alternates followed.
The creature slid to the door, but it didn’t come out into the hallway. It turned its head to the left, then the right, hissed once more for good measure, then plodded off to the back of the room where it crouched in the darkness, its eyes glowing with static for a moment before Cleopatra came on. Two tiny Elizabeth Taylors sat on a throne in the creature’s eyes.
“Didn’t I tell you that flavor was disgusting?” Cherry said.
Her Alternates didn’t laugh. Cherry didn’t either. She dropped the knife and cried.
Rather read a physical copy of Cherry Kills? No problem. Head over to Tiny Worlds Publishing for a signed (or unsigned) paperback. If you’re looking for an immersive experience, pick up the deluxe package.
Sean Thomas McDonnell is a contest-winning Bay Area-based author specializing in horror and dark speculative fiction. His debut collection, Beneath the Valley Oak—a fierce blend of western grit and creeping dread—sold out within 48 hours. He is a founding creator of The Midnight Vault anthology and the author of the standout story Blink Twice If You Can Hear Me. His breakout punk-noir novella, Cherry Kills, is available worldwide through Tiny Worlds Publishing.
Now that was fun!
Wow, that chapter was truly scary and bizarre. Loved it!!