Graveyard Soul Sucker
Deadly Treats Anthology
Excerpt © 2011 Kelly Lynn Parra
“This is creepy.” I scanned the dark grounds of Meadow Brook Graveyard. The patch of land was so rejected it didn’t even warrant a groundskeeper. Weeds towered over gravestones. The air reeked of skunk and mold, and wind blew the rusted gate entrance back and forth like a haunted violin.
Danny squeezed my hand in reassurance. “We’re just having some fun, Vada.”
“Midnight on All Hallows Eve at a graveyard? Kinda high school don’t you think?”
“Maybe. Just because you’re a big college girl now…” Danny leaned down and kissed me. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
I smiled and wrapped my arms around his warm body. “Promise?”
Pauly Jones, who everyone called Jones, said in his best psychotic whisper voice from behind me, “You’re not scared of a dead serial killer are you?”
I didn’t let on that his words sent a shiver down my back. I pulled away from Danny. “Shut it, Jones.”
“Aw, you’ve hurt my feelings, Vada. I think I might cry.”
“Leave her alone.” Danny sighed, likely tired of being the ref between our verbal tennis matches.
“Yes, sir, Danny Sir!” Jones saluted and jogged his big form ahead to the other couple in the group, searching for a two hundred year-old grave.
“Such a jerk,” I said under my breath.
“Just the way Jones is. Always been like that. Always will.”
“Can you just take me home, Danny?” I rubbed my neck. It felt like someone was staring into my back.
Jones let out an irritating whoop. “Here it is!”
“Soon. Come on.” Danny pulled me along to where the trio was huddled.
Jones’s flashlight illuminated a tombstone. The ancient marker was tilted and chipped, the engravings barely legible.
“Here lies John Peter Montgomery, Graveyard Soul Sucker,” said Jones.
“It doesn’t say that,” Bobby said on a laugh.
“Nah, but it’d be cool if it did.”
“What’s the story with this dude?”
Jones shined the flashlight under his chin, making his face glow like a ghost in the dark. “Legend goes that Montgomery was one of the worst serial killers of his time. Said he killed all kinds of peeps to take their souls into his body by black magic. Like he had twenty-five souls trapped inside him when he was captured and hung.”
“That’s bull,” I countered. I tried to sound brave, but kind of tough when you’re standing over the grave of a serial killer.
Jones slipped out an inch-thick pocketbook, waving it in the air. “It’s all here in this old book I found at the geezer’s shop.”