No Gein: III The Final Cut, Part Nine

Chapter Nine: Exposure

Milwaukee Wisconsin March 26th: 2007

On a dark city bus a small light from a flip phone shined on Stella’s face. Jonathan had invited her to a poetry night at the Emporium where they had their first date. As the bus passed by the Emporium, she remembered how she had planned to go, but something came up, something she couldn’t get out of her mind the last two days.

“Just curious,” Stella texted, “did you say that comic book guy grew up in Milwaukee?”

Looking down at the phone lighting up the palm of her hand, she read the words. “You mean Harry?”

“Yes.” her fingers quickly typed back as the bus came to a stop. Now exiting the bus, her hand gripped her cellphone tight as she hopped across a small puddle as the spring showers sprinkled down. After opening her umbrella, she checked her screen again, he hadn’t texted back yet, but she kept her eyes on the small screen until her feet reached the edge of the curb.

“Dammit!” she said aloud as she hadn’t seen the puddle in front of her but now felt the cold splash as a car sped by, its tires tossing water onto her jeans like a mean prank. She stepped back and wiped herself off until the green blinking man began his dance indicating it was safe for her to cross the street.

Still gripping her phone once she reached the other side, she felt the vibration on her skin. Looking down at her flip phone Jonathan finally texted back. “He told me he grew up in Milwaukee, but I remember when we went out for my 21rst, we went to that German bar. Ever have their sausage? My friend Steve worked their last year and he said it was really good.”

Stella’s eyes rolled as she thought to herself, “He texts the way he talks.”

Finally, he sent the text she was waiting for. “Anyway, Harry introduced me to liverwurst, good stuff, you should try it. He mentioned he had family in Amherst. I said you were from there, but he didn’t say much after that.” 

Standing before Deranged Comics and Games, its lights were still on, but she knew it would be closing soon. The electronic bell rang as she pushed the door open, and she entered to the sound of shouting.

Harry had enough of Richard’s’s shit. The store’s owner let Richard run a World of Darkness campaign at his store because he was practically an expert on the product, but his people skills needed work. Tonight, Richard admonished a young player who was trying the game for the first time, and Harry was sick of the attitude.

“He was an idiot.” Richard protested as Harry admonished him. “I’m sick of these stupid people ruining game night.”

“Oh, sorry Einstein, I didn’t know we were writing the unified theory of physics, I thought we were just having a role-playing session.”

“He’s a noob, you know how noobs are.”

“All he did was ask if he had a flashlight!”

“And I said, ‘I don’t know do you!”

“That’s not how you run a game!” Harry could feel his anger welling up within him, but his feelings rolled back with the sound of the door opening and the sight of a somewhat familiar face. “He’s a new player and he should feel welcome here.” Harry said, finishing his thought.

“Yeah, so you can make money off him!” Richard cynically said.

“So, he can enjoy the hobby asshole!” Every nerd thinks they can run a comic book and gaming store, but Harry knew that like anything else it takes work. “Until you realize that, you’re the one who’s not welcome here. Go spend your money somewhere else.” Harry didn’t need his business anyway. Besides, it’s not like he needed this store for his livelihood, which was a fact he never shared with anybody.

Harry knew he finally got through to this jerk as he sat there with that deer in the headlights look. Returning to the register, he saw Richard’s large frame stand up from his chair and storm out in a huff, saying nothing as he walked past Stella. Harry wondered if Richard even noticed her, as he wasn’t known for noticing anyone accept himself.

The bell rag again and the glass door swung closed at Richard’s exit. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and said to Stella, “Hey, sorry about that.”

“It’s OK.”

“Jonathan’s girl, right?” Harry said pointing to her.

Blushing, she nodded her head. The store owner thought to himself how those two were a cute couple. Jonathan was a super nice guy, but he just rambles on and on and on, and here’s his girlfriend who’s all quiet. Harry couldn’t help but find it amusing.

Reaching back to the small shelves behind him Harry pulled out a comic that was just delivered today. “Anyway,” Harry said, “I saved #6 of Rob Zombie’s Halloween for you.”

Stella wiped her hands on her shirt before reaching for the comic. “Oh, I’d forgotten all about that. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Harry’s voice betrayed a hint of confusion as he rang her up. She’d forgotten about it? What was she doing here on a Wednesday night in the rain if she wasn’t intending to pick this up?

“Got a chance to read it earlier.” Harry said, making small talk while he took her money. “Cool stuff. Makes you wonder, what if Rob Zombie would have made a Halloween movie.”

The girl simply said “Yeah.” As he handed over her change. Inside he laughed to himself again. She’s like Jonathan’s exact opposite.

“The name’s Stella, right?”

“Yeah.” She continued being a brilliant conversationalist.

Harry then looked at his watch. It was already past closing time. “Alright well thanks for stopping by, I gotta close up soon.”

Stella then suddenly blurted something out, something he wasn’t expecting, something that stopped him dead his tracks. “So, why did you pick the name Harry?”

“What?”

“That was your grandfather’s name, right?”

It was now a slight panic that his voice betrayed as he attempted to brush her off asking, “What are you talking about?”

“You told Jonathan you had family in Amherst. I think I was at your old house. I thought for a minute maybe someone hacked you up with a chainsaw.” She then laughed while Harry’s face froze. “You know kids party in your house now?”

“Look,” his hands slightly trembled as he raised them up in defense. With one last attempt to dismiss her, he said. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“I remember the first time I saw you.” Stella recalled. “That night in the theater, you were crying in your seat.” The man gave no reaction, but in his mind, he remembered that night where his dreams shined there, right in front of him, yet so far away. “I read later, that was your dream gig, directing Friday the 13^th.”

“Everyone wants to direct Stella. Look it’s time for you to go.”

“You even named this store after that your first screenplay.”

“Who’s screenplay?” The man called Harry asked in vain, but he knew it was too late.

“George Kohler’s.”

He turned his head down in defeat as he left the register. He hadn’t talked to Franki since his father died, but he remembered the breathing exercises dad’s last wife taught him as he calmly walked towards the door. He remembered her teaching walking meditation, taking each step as if it’s both your first step and your last. He managed to block everything out until he heard the sound of the metal clicking as he locked the door and flipped the sign around to indicate the store was closed.

It was the girl who looked a little scared now as he turned back around to face her. He wondered what she thought he was going to do. What he did was ask one simple question. “What do you want? You want money?”

“What?” Stella appeared to have gone from fear to confusion.

“Well forget it. I’ll close this shop and disappear tonight. Is that what you want?” He pointed to the wall displaying pictures of the gaming club. “Where are these kids gonna go then?”

“I don’t want your money.”

“Well, what do you want then?”

Stella looked around at all the merchandise before answering. “I never thought I would really get to meet you, but I always wanted to thank you.”

Now it was he who was confused. “Thank me for what?”

“I lost a sister too.” Stella said. “She got in a car with her drunk boyfriend and got herself killed on 51.” Harry knew that road, the killer highway they called it. In fact, he thought he might have caught the local news report about that when it happened. That would have been during one of his visits to his father in Amherst years back.

“Everybody loved my sister.” Stella went on to explain. “She ran track, did good in school, did good with boys.” Her voice then trailed off as she added. “I was the weirdo sibling nobody liked.”

“Okay.” Harry nodded in understanding. His own sister was also popular in school back when he was a nerdy teenager. It took nearly a decade for him to realize that the reason people hated him back then wasn’t because he was fat or because he was a nerd, it was because of his arrogance, the same kind of arrogance his now former customer had. Looking at this girl before him, he could tell she had some real pain, and didn’t peg her as being conceited.

“Dad started drinking more, I got even more depressed.” the young girl continued. He may have understood her feelings, but he still didn’t get why she was sharing all this. Either way, he kept listening. “I remember my school had this art contest. My sister always encouraged me with my drawing, but now, I just drew a blank. It was right before your chainsaw movie came out.” The comic store owner hadn’t fondly remembered anything from his Hollywood days until just that moment. That was where his life peaked, being at the premier with his father and his sister, right before everything went to hell. “I watched a preview of it.” Stella recalled. “I never forgot the end. You had that image of the guy with the chainsaw spinning around in the field, it was amazing. For some reason it just stuck with me. I sketched a picture of it and submitted it. Figured it would be my last work.”

Harry was still listening, but in his mind, he was remembering that scene, as well as that maniac he spotted on the highway years ago when he was just a kid that inspired such an image. That last thing Stella said brought jolted him back to the present. “What do you mean, your last work?”

Stella answered by rolling up her sleeves. “I was pretty depressed even before my sister died.” The store owner gasped as Stella exposed old cut marks on her arms. He remembered girls he grew up with that did that, some of them didn’t survive high school. “Once she was gone everything got even worse; kids at school were on my case, dad was drinking more. One day he passed out and I took his bottle of whiskey, then I grabbed a bottle of pills and, well you know…”

“Oh my god.” Was all he could say.

“I mean, obviously I didn’t do it.” She said, half cracking a smirk. “I was just about to when the phone rang. I don’t know why I even bothered answering it, but I did. It was the school.” She then laughed, continuing, “You know I was actually a little annoyed, because I thought, God, now I have to go into school and get the stupid award and then off myself.” Stella stopped for a moment. The rain was still coming down outside. She slightly titled her head and shrugged her shoulders as a light thunder sounded in the sky outside. “But I stuck around.” She resumed. “Dad stopped drinking, I ended up getting a scholarship and, well here I am.”

That was a nice sentimental story, but it still didn’t fill the hurt he had inside. “I lost my family to all that shit. No offense but you think this is supposed to make up for that?”

“No,” she answered simply. “but my sister always encouraged my drawing. She wouldn’t have wanted me to stop. Would they have wanted you to stop?”

“If I’d kept my job in Pennsylvania, I’d still have my family.”

“Wow, being stuck in a cubicle, sounds like a great life.” The store owner’s sarcasm detector was going off the charts.

“Look, I’m not gonna tell anybody. I just wanted, I just wanted to tell you.” Staring at the door, Stella said “Now are you gonna let me out or are you gonna cut me up with a chainsaw?”

His heart pumped again as his hands frantically unlocked the door. He pushed the glass door open hard and his arm remained still holding the door open.

Stella laughed walked past him. “God, I was just kidding. You’re so serious.”

Harry was now long gone as the door closed. George breathed a heavy breath as he locked the door again. Somewhere in his gut he knew he could trust her. He knew she wouldn’t tell anyone.

Walking back to one of the comic book shelves, he gazed longingly at a Friday the 13^th comic, and remembered that dream from so long ago. Flipping the wall switch the light’s dimmed while he walked back to the register.

Sitting down trying to close out the register, his mind was still in a fog. One thing occurred to him. She never asked what happened to his sisters killer?

No Gein III: The Final Cut Part 8

Chapter Eight: A Familiar Face

March 14^th, 2007 Milwaukee, Wisconsin

“Welcome to your first comic book store!” Jonathan giddily announced while holding the door open for Stella. Walking into this strange new world that was Deranged Comics and Games, Stella saw unfamiliar faces looking her over. In the back, a heavy-set guy with big poofy hair sat at a table surrounded by a few other men as papers and dice lay scattered about. The table-top gamers stopped mid roll to stare at the store’s potential new customer.

“Hey, Jonathan,” a goth looking girl in a Wednesday 13 shirt greeted them with a smile, “so this is the is the girl you’d been telling me about!” Stella blushed nervously as she wasn’t always comfortable with people discussing her. Still, looking around at the other people in this store, Stella was glad to see this place wasn’t a total boys club. Stella gave a timid wave as the girl said, “I’m Rachel, the store manager. It’s great to have you here. What kind of things do you like to read?”

“Um,” Stella looked around at all the single issues, shelves filled with graphic novels tables covered in labeled boxes and answered, “all kinds of things I guess.”

“Alright, well these are our newer releases.” Rachel said while walking over a display rack against the wall covered with comics. “They’re all arranged alphabetically, and the boxes on the tables are older back issues. If you have any questions let me know.”

Stella nodded politely as Rachel went back behind the cash register. Looking at the comic book rack was like gazing upon an alien world, its god like citizens clad in spandex fighting the good fight for all time. Stella scowled at the sight of some of the barley dressed female fighters. “You know I was thinking,” she heard her boyfriend Jonathan say, “we should start a new charity.”

“Oh yeah, for what?” Stella asked, her eyes still perusing the titles.

“We should raise money to buy some more clothes for these female characters.” He quipped while holding up one of the offending floppys.

Stella rolled her eyes as she still wasn’t used to his cornball humor. “It’s a good thing I like you.” she said.

Looking back to the shelves, Stella noticed the titles displayed weren’t all spandex. She recognized some manga like Death Note and Oh My Goodness which her roommate Amber liked. There were a few horror books too, including what looked like several separate issues all with Halloween in their title.

“Rob Zombie’s Halloween.” Stella said out loud as she picked up her first comic book. The name Rob Zombie stuck out to her as she was a fan of his music and his House of 1000 Corpses movie.

“Oh, that’s right.” Jonathan went on to explain, “Rob Zombie was set to do a remake of the original Halloween, but the studio canned that so they could do Helloween. Zombie’s idea was for two movies,” Jonathan continued, “one about a young Michael Meyers in the sanitarium, the other basically redoing the Halloween night he escapes. This series is about Zombies first idea.”

“Wow, neat.” Stella said while taking issues 2-5 off the shelf.

Looking over her shoulder, her curly brushed against him as Jonathan leaned into her saying, “Supposed to be a six part series.” Jonathan then made his patented goofy smile and said, “I guess that means I’ll have to bring you back here for the sixth issue!”

He didn’t notice her blushing as his attention immediately diverted to the cover of another issue. It was a cyberpunk style collage of computer images straight out of the Matrix, only the monitors were dripping in blood. Jonathan quickly reached for issue one of Halloween: H2K Rebooted. Yanking the title off the shelf he said, “Check this out. Ever since Devil’s Due comics got the rights to the Halloween they’ve been doing all the follow ups to those anthology films. Pretty neat stuff.”

Jonathan then snatched Halloween title featuring a pair of dueling werewolves explaining, “Oh, this one is a crossover between Halloween Six and some 80’s TV show called Werewolf. Ever hear of that?”

“I don’t remember anything from the 80s. Do you?” She said teasing her boyfriend who was just a few years older.

“Oh, she burned you there Jonathan!” A thin man in a Bart Simpson T-shirt laughed as he approached and introduced himself to Stella. “Hi, I’m Aaron. Buying some Halloween comics huh?”

Stella nodded while looking down at her books. Aaron then asked, “Did you hear they’re doing a movie with Halloween and Hellraiser.”

“Helloween, right?” Stella responded, naming the title of next year’s crossover film.

“That’s right.” Aaron said excited. “Rumor is the cult leader from Halloween 3 is gonna get Michael Meyers and the characters from the anthology films; like the sea monster from H20 and the vampire from Resurrection, to team up against the Cenobites! Trying to top Freddy vs the Devil I guess.”

Another man approached and chimed in, “Hey Jonathan, that reminds me, did you hear they’re doing a comic crossing Pumpkinhead with Friday the 13^th? It’s gonna be called Devil of Evil, Demon of Vengeance.”

“No Paul, I haven’t.” Jonathan said, but looking at his shirt, filled with the image of the titular character from the hillbilly horror movie known as Pumpkinhead, he added “and I can’t tell who your money’s on either.”

Paul then laughed saying “Wow, my sarcasm detector is going off the charts.”

Aaron then mimicked holding a scanning device, and in a nasally voice said, “Oh, a sarcasm detector, that’s a really useful invention!”

While the four all laughed together Stella saw a familiar face walked out from the back of the store. “Jesus mighty, you guys need to make like Jon and get a girlfriend.” Stella knew she’d seen this man before, with his mustache and dyed orange hair, but she couldn’t remember where.

“Oh hey, it’s Harry, the owner.” Jonathan pointed to him and said to Stella, “This is guy is like the Howard Hughes of comics. Remember this moment as we don’t see him here that often.” Then looking to the shop’s owner he said, “Harry, this is Stella, you might not recognize her, as last time you saw her it looked like she was dancing in a barbecue pit.”

“Oh,” Harry recalled, excitedly pointing at her saying, “you were at the movie dressed up as Freddy Krueger.”

Stella shyly nodded as Harry complimented, “That was a great costume!”

“Thanks.” She wondered how much he meant it, given she was slim and not all buff like Nightmare on Elm Street’s Kane Hodder.

“Have you been finding everything OK?” The owner asked.

Stella held up her Zombie Halloween comics as John said, “Yeah, it’s your lucky day. She’s about to buy her first comics!”

“Awesome,” Eying the five titles she held Harry said “Just so you know, issue six of that will probably come out next week. Despite how Johnny boy here is crackin on me, I’m always here on Wednesdays. You can come by and pick it up then.”

“Sounds like a date.” Stella said.

“Well how about that!” Jonathan jokingly protested. “You know some guys have a story about losing their girl to Mick Jagger or Robert Plant, here I lost my girl to Comic Book Guy!”

By the following Monday Stella had forgotten all about that humorous exchange as she stared at the computer monitor. “Bleep, bleep, bleep,” and the sound of the clacking keyboard echoed through the dormitory. Over AOL instant messenger Jonathan informed Stella of a poetry reading at the coffee shop that would be held in two nights. The memories of their first date lingered in her nostrils as she recalled the smell of freshly ground coffee. Memories of hot java were replaced by the actual present aroma of melted butter. “Hey love bird,” Amber said “I made some popcorn. It’s almost showtime.”

“Oh right!” Stella realized she’d lost track of time and excitedly typed “c ya l8r” into the instant messenger chat window. She smirked as her computer instantly bleeped back with the message “Not if I see you first.” Stella then left her desk to join her roommates on the couch.

The A&E network was on the television and the station hyped its series premier. Bates Motel was a prequel to Psycho set in the 1970’s. Early in the episode, an old car with luggage tied to the top drives by the beautiful Oregon coast. To one side were mountains lush with greenery, while the other side small waves crept onto the sands as the scene was scored with soft piano music. The scene then cut to an interior shot of the car, driven by the youthful beauty that was Norma Bates. In the passenger seat, her teenage son Norman flipped through the radio dial, stopping on a news broadcast that altered the mood of the splendid scenery about them.

Stella’s ears perked up as she heard the familiar voice on the show’s car radio. “in one of the most shocking and brutal crimes in the annals of American history.”

“Who is that?” Stella wondered aloud.

“Oh right, I heard about this.” her flatmate Michelle answered. “That’s Jon Larroquette.”

“Larro-who?” Stella asked.

“He was on an 80s show called Night Court.”

“Did you watch that when you were a kid?” Amber coyly asked.

“Fuck, I’m not that old!” the senior student said while playfully tossing a piece of popcorn at her.

“Anyway,” Michelle added, “he did the opening narration in the Texas Chainsaw movies.”

“Oh, right.” Stella said.

“Yeah, I heard the guy that directed Chainsaw pitched for Larroquette to have this bit.” Michelle said, pointing at the screen. “He pitched the TV show to appease the studio after killing Norman off in Psycho II. In his notes he had this idea kind of backhandedly tying in Psycho with chainsaw.”

“Isn’t that that director that disappeared or something?” Amber asked.

“Yeah, Stella,” Michelle chimed in, “aren’t you reading a book about him?”

“Yeah?“

“So where is he?” Michelle asked.

“Buried at my house.”

Michelle laughed. “Stella you’re hilarious.” 

“Yeah, just kidding,” Stella said, “he’s tied up in my room.”

“Jonathan better not find out.” Amber cracked on her before asking, “but really what do you think happened to him?”

“I don’t know. The book talks about this obsessed fan he had who they suspect murdered his sister. They both disappeared, so who knows.”

“Man that’s fucked up. I heard he killed himself.”

Stella tensed as those words were spoken. She loved these girls. In her short time here they became like a new family to her, but not even they knew of that dark night she had all those years ago.

After the TV episode was over, Stella went back to her desk, carrying with her a peculiar feeling she just couldn’t shake. That book they were talking about sat at her desk. Thumbing through it, she found a picture of George Kohler. He looked heavier his face looked fuller than she remembered him looking on TV. It was an old picture from before he broke into the business. Back then he had this bombastically big poofy hair. As she focused on his eyes, there was a familiarity with him she couldn’t place, it wasn’t just from seeing him on TV. Placing a bookmark to keep the page she pulled out her sketch book. Her pencil scratched the pages, lines formed the facial features of the missing and possibly departed director. The top of the pencil floated up to George’s forehead, about to draw his massive mop of hair, but it stopped. Almost instinctively, the pencil drew a crew cut on the head instead. The wooden pencil then returned down to the face where it drew a small mustache above its lips. Her hand dropped the pencil as she looked down at her work. Her hand then reached for her colored pencils, her fingers gripped the utensil that was orange in color. Stella was able to see the finished product in her mind before she continued. Thinking back on her day, butterflies fluttered in her stomach as the thought fully dawned on her. It was not a sensation of fear, as if she had something to be afraid of, but it was a shock, a realization of a truth that had stood before her. Still looking down at her drawing while her hand effortlessly colored the sketch pad, she knew it was true. The resemblance was uncanny.

No Gein III: The Final Cut, Part Seven

Chapter Seven: The Shower

Customer: Bartender, what’s a Gein beer?

Bartender: It’s got lots of body, but no head.

Why did Ed Gein always have the heat on in his house?

So, his furniture wouldn’t get goosebumps.

November 2nd 2004

George hated to admit it, but that last one was pretty funny. While surfing the web looking at various horror sites, George stumbled upon an Angelfire page called the Ed Gein Appreciation Zine. While George wasn’t appreciative of the adoration expressed towards this deranged individual that terrorized his Aunt, he was impressed with the thoroughness of site’s information. He knew, had circumstances been different, he himself would have designed a site like this. What little information about Gein’s life, as well as his grave robbing and apparent murder of Mary Hogan were all covered in gruesome detail. Of course, much of the site’s information was “borrowed” from Kohler’s own book Deranged, which detailed the personal and disturbing story of how George came to learn the secret to his Aunt’s madness.  

However, there were a few original essays, such as one comparing Gein to Norman Bates, the character from Psycho, as well as Gein’s influence on George’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Reading the article about Chainsaw, George chuckled to himself as he remembered how people falsely assumed that his remake took inspiration from Jeffrey Dahmer.

Then there were these Geiners, morbid jokes about Ed that were all the rage now. While he couldn’t help but have some respect for the gallow’s humor, what was not amusing was a section of the website that directed it’s ire towards George himself. “George Kohler is a fucking pussbag.” read the page titled No Gein Movie? “He’s had the greatest story in the history of modern horror fall right into his lap and that fucking tool won’t act on it. The fat lazy fuck is sitting at home counting his millions while the greatest horror movie ever goes unmade.” George shook his head as he wiped the sweat still hanging off his brow. Just before he sat down at the computer, he was working out on his bowflex machine. Taking a sip of water, he continued reading. “Kohler owes it to us fans. Let him know we demand our Ed Gein movie.” Then one of George’s personal email addresses was listed below for the world to see.

“Ah shit, I guess I’ll have to close that account now.” George thought to himself. It was a shame too, because he used this particular email to talk to fans. Opening this email account, he scrolled through hundreds of messages, most of which had clever subject titles like Make that Gein Movie or Die or Gein Film or Bust. Messages like “advice for breaking into the film business,” or honest fan questions about his films were now few and far between. While this was certainly annoying, George was able to brush it off. He remembered himself firing off angry messages in Friday the 13^th forums, especially toward the director of Friday the 13^th Part Five, The New Horns. It was embarrassing now to think he had acted like these trolls once. Perhaps it was some form of Kharmic justice.

The wanderings of George’s mind were interrupted by the ringing of his flip phone.  “Is this my famous director brother?” the familiar voice said on the other end.

“Well, I think I’m still famous.” George answered his sister as he looked back at the monitor and its angry emails. “Though looking at some of the online chatter its maybe more infamous.”

His sister Helen laughed as she said, “Well I hope you’re not too famous to join us for Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely be in for that.” George assured her. “Sorry I couldn’t see you after Hallow-con, I had to fly back to LA and sort shit out for Psycho III. Also, big news,” his voice raised in excitement as he rapidly spoke, “something opened up at Paramount. Tomorrow, I got a meeting about maybe directing the next Friday the 13^th film, Freddy vs the Devil vs Ash!”

“Wow, that’s awesome!” Helen was well aware of her brothers life-long love of the Friday the 13^th franchise. The two of them spent many a night watching them on TV when they were kids. Their father even once took them on a camping trip in New Jersey to look for the legendary Jersey Devil. “You’ve been waiting for this for so long. I’m sure you’re gonna do great.”

“I hope so.” George said humbly.

“Well, you’ll have to let me know how it went over Turkey.”

“Sure thing. How’s the Chuckster?”

“He’s good. He’s just hanging out watching TV now.” Helen then looked to her husband, who she saw looking out the window. From outside she could hear their dog barking as the sun set behind the homes across the street. “What’s wrong hon?”

“I don’t’ know, the dog’s acting up.” George heard her brother in law Charles say. “Probably barking at the skateboarders again.”

The dog’s barking then stopped as Helen said, “Anyway, I’ll see you soon. I’m real proud of you.”

“Thanks Helen. You know I’m proud of you too.” Hanging up the phone, George closed the window of his email and started began to work.  

Opening a word document, he began jotting down ideas for Freddy vs the Devil vs Ash. The Necronomicon, was a good place to start. That mysterious and evil book which originally appeared in the prose of H.P. Lovecraft before being used in the Evil Dead series was a natural fit to tie the three franchises together. Maybe Ash Williams, the Deadite slaying hero of the Evil Dead series from the evil dead series would work at the Crystal Lake S-Mart, the fictional equivalent of Wall-Mart. George then typed out random ideas for how the Freddy, the Devil, and Ash would interact. Maybe Freddy could use the Necronomicon to bring back the Devil’s past victims as Dead-ites, the creatures of the Evil Dead series.

Even cooler, he thought to himself, would be if the surviving characters from Friday the 13^th and Nightmare on Elm Street would appear, such as Friday’s Tina Shepard and Nightmare’s Alice Johnson. This could be the horror equivalent of Crisis on Infinite Earths, the epic DC Comics story from 20 years prior which featured pretty much every DC comics character. George leaned back and stopped himself for a moment. He remembered his departed mentor Robert Bloch, advising him against over-stuffing his stories. “A good story is like a good recipe.” He recalled Bloch telling him. “Too much stuff can ruin it, just stick with what you need.” Still, he felt really intrigued about this idea of surviving characters from past films. Who knows, maybe this idea could be in the next sequel? Yet again, George knew to restrain himself. Knowing how Hollywood works, he was aware of the dangers of getting too far ahead of himself. He knew to take things one movie at a time.

“You know I’m proud of you too.”

Helen felt glad to hear that from her brother as she hung up the phone. “I’m going to take a shower.” she said to her husband as she felt the cool November breeze blowing into their house. “Chuck?” she said as she looked out the open door. She didn’t hear the dog barking anymore, but she didn’t see her husband either. She figured he probably went to talk to the neighbors and closed the door behind her making sure it was unlocked.

In the safe comfort of her shower, she thought about how the relationship between her and her brother had grown stronger over the last few years. They were close as young kids, spending afternoons playing outside and watching monster movies at night. Once they moved east, their teenage years found them drifting apart, especially when he developed that massive ego. Strangely enough, fame seemed to have made George humble. Well, there were other reasons too. Especially since their father died, that was so hard on both of them, not to mention how bizarre and macabre that whole situation was. “Be careful in the shower.” Helen hated remembered the dying words of her father, rambling and nonsensical in his final moments. While lost in thought, the steam from the shower formed a fog around Helen as her mind wandered to that place where she was still bitter; resentful that her father had been taken from then so soon, just a few years after they’d all grown closer as a family. At the very least, she was appreciative of George, who often took the time out of his busy schedule to check on how she and Chuck were doing.

What she didn’t know was that Chuck wasn’t doing well, not anymore. His body now rested in the bushes and wouldn’t be found until the next day. As she’d drifted in that mental fog, she didn’t hear the light footprints enter her bathroom. She did hear the shower curtain pull back, and she heard herself scream as the knife plunged into her body. She had no idea who Franklin was, but as her brother’s stalker repeatedly plunged his steel into her, she knew his face would be the last thing she ever saw.

George’s head was swimming with the possibilities of another sequel to these franchises. Taking a break from his brainstorming, he closed the window on his word document to find his Firefox web browser still open. It was then he noticed something on that Gein fansite hadn’t noticed before. Clicking on ‘Gein Today,’ he uncovered some more recent and gruesome news. According to this page, Gein apparently now had a copy-cat. In Plainfield Wisconsin, where Ed resided and is buried, someone dug up several graves, apparently the same graves Gein himself violated half a century prior. A jepeg file of the local newspaper clippings seemingly confirmed this crime to be true. Adding a gruesome showman ship to the foul acts, a color photo, separate from the newspaper clipping showed some of the remains were laid out on the cemetery grass in such a way that they spelled out a word, one word. Ed. Even worse than that, the bodies of two youths, a young couple that just graduated high school, were found murdered in the cemetery. The webmaster of this morbid site seemed to take particular delight in describing the tragic death of what seemed like a bright and beautiful young girl.

“Enough of that.” George thought to himself, clicking on the X closing that awful window. He didn’t feel much better as he again checked his email to find even more messages from demented fans demanding a Gein movie. His mouse clicked on the small boxes as he prepared to delete them, but one message caught his eye. ‘Your pretty sister.’ the subject read. “What the fuck? Not cool messing with family.” he thought to himself as he clicked on the message. Text at the top indicated this was a follow up to an earlier message. “I’m warning you.” The older message read. “If a Gein movie is not in development by Horror-con, your family will pay.” George hadn’t recalled seeing this message before. He probably deleted it on sight just as he had most of these crazy messages. But the new email below sent a chill through his spine as it read. “You’d been warned.” Below the text were a series of icons indicating this email contained several images that would soon be visible.

George grew cold as the Jpeg files loaded on his monitor. He recognized that house, that home that he’d plan to visit in just a few weeks, the dining room where he planned to cut the Thanksgiving Turkey, the TV they would watch football on. George quickly grabbed his phone and speed dialed Helen. The phone kept ringing as image after image of Helen’s home loaded on the screen. Scrolling down the email, the trail of jpeg files led up Helen’s steps, down the hallway, and finally, through the bathroom door. George almost vomited at the site of the red streaks staining the shower curtains. Finally, the last agonizing image loaded. There, laying in the tub, naked and violated, was George’s sister Helen.

No Gein III: The Final Cut, Part Six

Chapter Six: Don’t Go In The House

Psycho: Movies, Murder, Madness and the Disappearance of George Kohler

Kohler’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre opens with a decayed corpse sitting atop a tombstone. After this shocking image, we get the film’s scant plot involving Sally and her brother checking on their grandfather’s grave after hearing news of several local cemeteries being desecrated. Along the way, they run into a family of cannibalistic murders, least of which is the newly named Leatherface; who replaces Saw-Man from the original 1974 film as the Chainsaw wielding maniac who dons several masks of human skin.

Along with its massive success, much controversy surrounded the 2003 remake. Victim’s rights groups suggested Kohler had taken inspiration from Milwaukee murderer Jeffrey Dahmer, whose apartment was found to have various skeletons and other human remains. The home of the maniacal family in Kohler’s Chainsaw film seemed to have taken cues from Dahmer, with its chairs covered in bones, human skin lampshades and bed posts made of skulls. However, was there possibly an earlier influence on this film that was unknown at the time?

Before his time in Hollywood, George was in correspondence with author Robert Bloch regarding an unproduced screenplay George wrote called Deranged. Bloch was a relatively successful novelist and television writer, but never attained true breakout success until his later years when he published the 1993 novel Psycho. Bloch personally arranged for the then unknown George Kohler to be the director on Psycho’s film adaptation, which closely follows the novel.

Norman Bates, an eccentric hotel owner devoted to his live-in mother, is the lead character in both the film and novel. Following several murders comes one of the great surprise endings in film, as it is revealed that Norman’s mother is actually long dead. Her body is preserved by her son and kept in her old bedroom. Even more shocking, Norman dresses as his dead mother, and, apparently suffering from dissociative personality disorder, “becomes” his mother, murdering anyone perceived to be a threat to her son. Psycho turned out to be more shocking to audiences than Silence of the Lambs which was released just a few years prior.

Published just before the author’s death, Bloch was very tight lipped about what inspired him to write such a tale. Upon closer inspection, the name Norman is close to the word normal. Norman of course is not normal, but desperately attempts to don the appearance of normalcy. This seemingly normal man lives in a secluded area with his fanatical mother while hiding a terrible secret. Parallels to Edward Gein are obvious.  

“What are you reading?” Stella’s father momentarily took his eyes off the road to ask.

Holding up the book cover she answered, “It’s about George Kohler.”

“Oh, wasn’t he that movie director?” he asked.

“Yeah.” she answered as her eyes diverted back to the pages.

“Didn’t his mom or somebody run into that Psycho down in Plainfield years ago?” He asked as his eyes focused back on the road.

“It was his Aunt.” she answered while continuing to read.

Thinking back to the local story that made global headlines he recalled. “Yeah, I remember that in the news a few years ago when they found all those bodies. Crazy stuff.” Then, glancing at her book, he added. “What ever happened to that director guy? Didn’t he vanish or something?”

“Yeah, this book talks about it. No one knows what happened. It says he had some crazy fans. Some of them wanted him to make a movie about that Plainfield guy but he didn’t want to. One theory is that a fan killed him.”

“I remember hearing that.” her father recalled. “One story I heard was he checked himself into the Mendota institution up in Madison. Who knows though; can’t believe everything you see on the internet right?”

Approaching their hometown of Amherst, he smiled as the sun hung ahead of them. He was so proud of his daughter. They’d both been through so much loss and hurt, but now he was a year sober, and she was off to college and seemed to have met someone special. He got to meet Stella’s boyfriend today when he picked her up from college. He seemed a little eccentric, but so was his daughter. Either way, Stella seemed really happy, happier than he’d seen her in a long time.

“So, Jonathan huh?” he said. “You really like this guy?”

“Yeah.” Stella said, blushing. She then turned away from her book and looked out the window, the flat plains of Wisconsin lay stretched out to the horizon.

“Well that’s great.” Her father said. “Listen, you know I love you, and, and I know,” he was stammering his words now, “I know you’re not a little kid anymore.” It grew more and more uncomfortable for him the closer he got to the subject. “Just use protection, OK?

“Dad!”

“Okay, okay!” As uncomfortable as that exchanged was, he had to laugh a little as it’d been a long time since he’d seen his daughter show so much emotion as she just had in that moment. “Okay, I’m just saying.”

Finally coming into their hometown, he saw a large white house on the side of the road. It looked empty now, but he was grateful for its presence and the opportunity it provided to change the subject. “That there’s a Kohler property.” He said pointing to the house. “From what I remember, George bought it for his dad.” He saw her glance at the building and its empty driveway as he continued. “Who knows, maybe he’s hiding out there.”

Her dad couldn’t stay long once they got home as he had to go in for the night shift at his new job. Once she dropped her things off in her old room, she went into what was her sister’s room. Before leaving for college, her father converted Juliana’s old room into a studio for Stella. He also kept a small desk there which he occasionally worked out of, so they both shared this space that once belonged to Juliana. In a way, it helped them both heal. Using this room helped them to move on. They both agreed to keep one thing of Julianna’s, her trophy case remained intact, still glowing in the light of the room.

Stella sat at the chair in her desk. Looking at the spot where Juliana’s bed used to be, she remembered and reflected. Her short time in university was the best time of her life, probably better than all of her life before that really. Now looking at the window at the lonely landscape outside, she thought about how she was now back in this place where she didn’t have any friends. At least spring break was only a week. She supposed she could call Meghan, that girl she knew from high school, but she was probably busy. Stella made no real plans for this week. It’s not like she could afford go to Palm Beach or wherever other college kids on TV go for Spring Break. Tomorrow she would give Jonathan a call, but tonight she intended to just stay home and read. However, as the book cover faced up, looking back at her, and she could only think of one thing.

The sun was so far behind her now. As it dipped into the horizon Stella rode her bike down the gravel road towards the large white house ahead of her. Placing her bike in the nearby tree line, she crept toward the house and the looming darkness around it. No lights were visible inside and as she ascended the creaky porch steps she had no idea what she would tell do should she find anyone. “Hi George, I’m Stella, I’m a big fan of your movies and I just wanted to see if you were hiding here.” What could she say? “Hello.” was all she could think of as she wrapped on the door. No curtains hung from any of the windows of the house. Placing the edge of her hands around her forehead she pressed her face towards the large pane of glass on the front porch. Looking inside, most of the furniture was gone. There was an old dusty couch and a few cardboard boxes, but otherwise it looked empty. She jumped and quickly turned around as a breeze blew accompanied by a loud banging noise, it sounded like wood banging on wood. There was nothing behind her, and she realized the sound was coming from around the back of the house.

Walking around the perimeter of the home, Stella noticed a security camera posted to the wall. It remained still, and, looking closer, she realized its light was off. It was long dead. Coming to the back of the house, she found the source of the noise. The back door was open, occasionally slamming shut with the wind. “Hello.” she spoke again as she poked her dead inside. There was still no answer. She pulled a flashlight out her backpack, bringing a little light  into the house while the sun faded away. Inside the kitchen, the refrigerator sat silently. No light emerged from within as its door opened revealing empty contents inside. Walking up the steps to the second floor she found each of the bedrooms to be empty, except one.

This must have been George Kohler’s home. Horror posters remained on the wall, including Friday the 13^th Part VIII, the Devil Takes Manhattan, and the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Next to Saw-Man and his chainsaw the text of the poster read, “Who will survive and what will be left of them?” This room was like a shrine to horror movies. Various props and memorabilia sat about. Stella noticed a prop knife along with a wig and dressed that looked like it was from Psycho. A prop chainsaw hung on the wall. There was also a desk with a stack of papers. Rummaging through the desk drawer, she’d found an old, typed screenplay called Deranged, written by George Kohler dated 1989. Flipping through the script, inside the first few pages were photographs. A few of them looked like they were George when he was young. Most of them were of a woman, whom Stella realized was his sister. “Such a shame,” Stella thought to herself. All the other rooms were bare, no clothes, no other personal items, but this room remained intact. Why would all this stuff have been left here?

Looking down, Stella realized that wasn’t the strangest thing about this room. A series of cuts were visible on the floor. Kneeling down, her fingertips traced the grooves in the wood. There were four short cuts, and they weren’t random. In fact, as the frame of her upper body faced downwards, Stella realized the top two marks lined up with her shoulders. Standing up she continued looking down and realized the bottom two marks would have lined up with her hips had she been laying there. These marks weren’t deep and weren’t clean cuts that would have been made with a knife or an axe. It looked like someone took a power tool to the floor. It looked like the marks of a chainsaw.

That wooden door downstairs was still banging, sending echoes through the house, but now there was another sound, the sound of footsteps. Someone else was in the house. Now it was several footsteps she heard, followed by the sound of giggling. “Time to get fucked up.” an adolescent male voice said followed by the crackling sound of an aluminum can opening.

“I’m already high man.” the voice of another boy followed.

Stella quietly crept to the bathroom as the commotion continued downstairs. Luckily the door was able to be locked. At least she wouldn’t get in trouble for trespassing, she thought to herself, as whoever these kids were, they were trespassing themselves.

“I heard that movie director haunts this place.” She heard the first voice say.

“Bullshit.” She heard the other voice reply.

“No man, he was in a cult and summoned up some demonic shit here. They say the devil took his soul.”

Stella almost laughed as she heard the juvenile speculation. It sounded like there was only two of them, but there was still only one of her. She could remain hidden in this bathroom if worse came to worse, but she was long passed tired of hiding. Besides, rummaging through her backpack, she found an old makeup kit. Looking in the cracked mirror, she had an idea.

“What was that?” One of the voices said as the soundtrack from the Psycho movie played on Stella’s Walkman. Its volume was turned up all the way so the sound from the headphones filled the empty house.

“Sounds like its upstairs.” the other voice said as their footsteps approached the stairwell. Their own flashlights shined up to the second floor and screams followed, for what these boys saw seemed inhuman. Borrowing from the special edition of the Exorcist, released just a few years prior, Stella did a spider-walk down the steps. Her hands served as feet as her chest faced the ceiling leaving her head hanging upside down. Makeup formed red and black shapes around her face as her mouth hung agape releasing a terrible screeching sound. The boys almost fell over screaming before frantically running out the door, dropping their beer cans behind them and abandoning their six packs.

Adrenaline still rushed through Stella as she rode her bike home. The night breeze blew softly on her still made-up face. Anyone who might happen to drive by and see her might have been scared to death, but fortunately no one else was around. For once, the solitude of Kodak country was a comfort to her as she rode home in the night. She laughed to herself as she thought back to those boys running out of the house in terror. Still, this humorous thought couldn’t smother that creeping feeling she had. As her own house lay ahead, the warm lights still glowing inside, one horrible thought rattled in her mind. Did she just see the place where George Kohler was murdered?

No Gein III: The Final Cut, Part Five

Chapter Five: The Gein Ghoul House

August 27^th, 2004 Plainfield Wisconsin.

“America’s most Brutal and Bizarre Crimes,” read the neon sign at the entrance of the Gein Ghoul House. Leon, the owner of the local attraction, was happy to see the crowd of people ahead of him. Of course, the crowd was moving toward the parking lot as it was now after hours. The victim’s rights group who picketed the attraction were also packing up their signs and banners. Watching them leave, Leon chuckled to himself as he figured they hadn’t deterred any visitors. In fact, they probably attracted some.

A few months back the police questioned Leon when the Plainfield cemetery was desecrated and two youths were found murdered there. Apparently, some psycho was being a Gein copycat. There’d been no other victims since, and of course, Leon had nothing to do with it, but he welcomed the publicity. He also welcomed the jealous stares from the departing crowd as two voluptuous women walked with him to the entrance of the Ghoul House.

The attraction was designed like a simple farmhouse. Walking up the steps to the front porch with Candy and Sapphire on his arm, the trio were greeted by two skeletons sitting in rocking chairs. “You girls are gonna love this.” Leon said excitedly as he opened the door to the now empty attraction.

The first room they entered was not made up like a home but instead looked like a mental asylum. Mannequins of sinister looking Doctors and sexy nurses were set up around the room to appear as they were treating deranged patients in hospital gowns. The girls looked up at a TV hanging on the wall and saw a familiar face.

“Wow, I love Jerry Springer!” Candy said as she looked up at the screen playing America’s favorite tabloid talk show.

“Yeah,” Leon said, hugging her tight with his left arm, “look who else is up there.” Both girls looked at the screen, but it didn’t register yet. Then, they heard a familiar voice.

“No one believed her but me.” The voice from the TV said.

“Hey, that’s you!” Candy observed, her squeaky voice revealed genuine surprise.

“Yeah, no shit.” Sapphire said, taking out a pack of cigarettes from her purse as they both watched their “date” on the set of the Jerry Springer show.

“That’s right toots.” Leon said. “I worked over at Mendota Health Institute in back in the 70’s. One of our patients ran into Gein back in the day. Poor girl, no one believed her.” Leon’s voice showed no remorse as it told this story. In fact, he looked giddy as he passed the fake operating table where one of the dummy’s was getting vivisected. “Then, one day,” Leon gleefully continued, “it was just too much.” Creeping over to a door with a sign that read ‘Lobotomy Wing’ he went on. “The Doctors, those damned Doctors, they dragged her kicking and screaming to this door. I can still hear her shrieking, even now.” Leon then cradled his face with his hands. “No, please.” His voice now sounded lighter as he began his performance. Using his best acting skills, he mimicked his patient. “Please don’t take me there! Please no!”

“What did they do?” Candy asked.

A wicked smile emerged from Leon’s face as he thrust the door open and proclaimed, “They gave her a lobotomy!”

Leon’s mood went from glee to confusion as neither girl expressed any fright. In fact, Candy giggled and Sapphire took another drag of her cigarette, her boot tapped the floor not only to stomp out her ashes but to express her boredom. Leon’s head swung back; his eyes scanned the small room behind the door. The lobotomy chair sat empty, his plan of having Zeke, one of the house workers leap out at the girls had gone unfulfilled.

“Well, that was awkward.” Leon mumbled. His voice then perked back up as he said, “Let’s go to the kitchen!”

In the next room Sapphire felt Candy’s hand squeezing her tight. Even Sapphire was visually disturbed as a mock dinner scene sat before them. A ghoulish looking family feasted upon human arms and legs. A mannequin of a human head, eyes bulged in fright, it’s mouth agape as if trying to scream served as the table’s center piece. Surrounding this devilish dining scene were scantily clad female mannequins hung on meat hooks from the kitchen ceiling. “Don’t worry,” Leon said dismissively. “They’re just dummies!” Leon laughed while squeezing one of the fake plastic breasts; its body covered in fake blood lightly swung from its chain near the fake oven. With his other hand Leon then threw the oven door open, the sound of metal clanging startled Candy, who squeezed Sapphire’s hand even tighter. Leon was no longer expecting Jane to jump out as planned, and of course the mock oven was empty. However, Leon himself now appeared disturbed as he spied the door to the back entrance. “Oh, look what they did to the door!” he complained as he examined the broken doorknob while the wooden door swayed. “Can’t find good help these days. Here toots” he ordered Candy, “slide that chair over to me.” Candy grimaced as her small hands gripped the back of one of the chairs at the kitchen table were a mannequin of a maniac sat. “Don’t worry doll face that’s just a dummy it’s not gonna hurt you.” Candy still nervously pushed the chair over to him. It’s metal legs squealed on the tiled kitchen floor. Leon then carelessly pushed the mannequin off the chair and propped the seat against the back door keeping it shut.

“Won’t that make a fire hazard.” Sapphire asked.

“What are you the fucking Fire Marshall now?” Leon said sarcastically. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

The private show continued through a few more rooms on the second floor. The girls were treated to other figures set up wielding chainsaws, sledgehammers, and other scenes of brutality reflecting popular horror films.

One particular room seemed eerily normal. It was a clean nicely decorated bedroom with antique furnishing. Old curtains covered the windows and oil paintings decorating the walls, including one of Jesus Christ looking up at an angel. A lone figure sat in a rocking chair facing the window. Frills of the figure’s summer dress rippled as the motorized rocking chair creaked back and forth. Leon gestured his hand towards the gray wig which clung tightly to the fake skull attached to the full skeleton which sat in the rocker. “This was Ed Gein’s mother!” Leon announced as the music from the film Psycho played. Back in showmen ship mode he explained. “It was she that taught him the secrets of the dead, how to cook and devour human flesh!” Sapphire’s eyes rolled but Candy grimaced as she saw large plate resting on the lap of Ed’s “Mother” with a fake bloody dismembered arm resting atop.

Leon was still giddy like a pre-pubescent boy guiding these women through these monstrous displays. Approaching the doorway on the other side of the room, the girls followed behind as he announced, “And now for the grand finale, the Boudoir of Edward Gein!”

Even Sapphire cringed at the site of female heads posted on the bedroom wall. “Ew, gross.” Candy said upon entering. Speakers mounted on the walls projected sound effects of screams and running chainsaws. The far end of the room was not decorated save a simple curtain, but at the center of the room was the bed. Plastic skulls mounted the bedposts, and on the mattress laying face up was a female mannequin. Red makeup effects splattered the body giving the appearance of blood covering her legs to her neck, but not her head, as there was no head. Leering over the headless female was the Ghoul of Plainfield himself. The male mannequin stood upright, its trousers were pulled down it its ankles and was positioned at the edge of the bed giving the appearance of intercourse. Naked from the waist up save a red hunters cap that rested on its head, there he was in all his depraved glory, Ed Gein, the Ghoul of Plainfield.  

“Oh, that’s just nasty!” Sapphire shouted.

“I’m not paying you for your opinion. Speaking of which.” Leon pulled back the curtain which exposed not a window but a door.

“What’s behind there?” Candy asked. Leon opened the door which led to a small hallway. At the end of the corridor a half open door exposed a bathroom. “This is my office.” Leon said, leading the girls past a closed door. He checked to make sure it was locked, then took his keys out to unlock a second door.

“What’s back here, ghosts or something?” Candy asked.

“No sugar-tits.” Leon answered. “This is where we’re gonna party!”

“About time.” Sapphire said as they went in the private room. A large couch sat in front of a big screen TV. In between was a table with weed and cocaine along with bottles of whisky ready to be consumed. A small sink sat in the corner next to a mini fridge with a clear window on the door through which they could see cans of beer. Candy entered more cautiously. She looked around the room expecting more macabre sights to be found, not realizing the show was over.

“You okay sweetheart?” Leon asked as he observed Candy’s apprehension.

“Uh, yeah. Was that a bathroom down there?”

“Sure was hon.” Leon answered. “Feel free to go freshen up.”

As Candy exited, closing the door behind her Leon took a seat on the couch.

“So, you own all this?” Sapphire asked, sitting closely next to him on the couch.

“Sure do.” Leon said as he poured two glasses of whisky. “Got some money off my TV appearances and book deal and invested into this.”

“So, you’re a self-made man huh?” Sapphire said, picking up her glass.

“You got it baby.” Their glasses clinked together in a toast while Leon’s other arm wrapped around her waist. After a quick drink she scooted over and sat on his lap, wrapping her own arms around his neck. His eyes gazed at her bulging breasts almost busting out of her top. His gaze then floated to her thick red moist lips before finally resting in her dark eyes. Her head leaned in, and he squeezed her tight as he felt her tongue gliding on his neck. He closed his eyes an inhaled as he felt her body pressed against his.  Exhaling, he opened his eyes and was immediately taken out of the moment. There in his line of sight was the door to his private room, which reminded him of something he should check on.

“Hey, um,” Leon could still feel the heat from Sapphire’s breath on him neck as he pulled away and said, “why don’t you check on Candy?”

“OK baby.” She said as she stood up and grabbed her purse. “I should freshen up a minute anyway.” Before she went out the door to the small corridor outside, she turned back to say. “Don’t go anywhere.”

After taking another drink of whiskey, Leon approached the closed door ahead of him and said “Zeke, Jane?” His two co-workers were supposed to scare his “dates” as a practical joke. “You better not be boning in there!” He shouted as his hand gripped the doorknob to his private quarters. Behind this door was a small bedroom he made in the attraction for nights like these when he had company. “I’m gonna fire these fuckers” he thought to himself as he found the door to be unlocked. Presuming he was about to find the young couple in his bed; he thought if he were lucky, he would catch a good glimpse of Jane’s goods.

“Candy, you OK girl?” Sapphire said as she walked down the hallway. She didn’t find her in the bathroom. “Bitch better not have run off,” she thought to herself, wouldn’t surprise her though. Sapphire seen a lot of girls come and go in this line of work. Glancing in the cracked bathroom mirror, she reached into her purse and touched up her lipstick. Then applying a spritz of perfume around her neck she thought how this guy wasn’t hardly the weirdest client she ever had. All that mattered was that she got paid.

After touching up her makeup she was about to turn off the bathroom light and walk out when she heard it. It was a wet sliding sound, the sound of skin slipping on wet ceramic. Looking at the closed shower curtain hanging on the edge of the bathtub, it was then that she noticed the smell. It was a distinctly sweet but sickly scent, like that of rotting meat. “Candy, you in there?” she said as the moist sound came to a stop. The curtain remained still as she reached her hand toward it.

Pulling back the curtain, she found something more horrifying than any of the designed frights of this local attraction. There sat Candy in the bathtub, her throat had been cut, and cut for real. Next to her sat another body, a young girl in a Gein Ghoul house shirt. Sapphire instantly knew this was no mannequin as actual blood poured from the open wound of her face. It was also not a mannequin that stood before her in the shower, yet it did appear unreal. Its female face hung from its skull, its body draped in a long dress, and a masculine hand raised up a meat cleaver, burying it in Sapphire’s face.

Leon entered his private bedroom to find a fully clothed Zeke laying face down on the bed. “Sleeping on the job asshole!” he shouted. He was more disappointed that Jane’s naked body wasn’t lying underneath his lazy employee. “You’re fired!” Leon approached his now ex-employee who remained motionless on the bed. It was then he saw the the stains on the sheets. “What, are you trying to Punk me?” Leon asked, assuming a camera was on him somewhere and Jane was about to pop up and scare him. “Come on, show’s over.” He said shaking Zeke and turning his body over. It took his mind a moment to register what his eyes were seeing, as for a split second he presumed Zeke’s cut-throat was a merely a makeup effect and part of some elaborate prank. As Zeke’s eyes rolled to the back of his head Leon knew this was no prank, Zeke was dead.

Leon gave no thought to the girls or Jane as he ran out his private suite, dashed into the small corridor and into the mock-up of Ed’s room. He screamed and collapsed to the floor at the site of a figure standing near the opposite doorway. A young woman’s face sat atop a figure wearing a long dress. One of its hands gripped a blood-stained meat cleaver. “Dammit, it’s just one of those mannequins.” he said aloud to himself as the figure remained perfectly still. Getting back to his feet, he approached the motionless figure. This wasn’t a mannequin he recognized. Face looked cute, kind of resembled that dead girl they found in the local cemetery, wearing too many clothes though. Drawing closer, he gasped as he looked in its eyes and saw his own reflection. It was too late for him to realize who he was looking at as the real meat cleaver swung into his gut sending true blood pouring to the wooden floor below. Collapsing to the ground again, Leon looked up to see the figure standing over him, its mouth began to move.

“You know,” a male voice spoke through dead female lips, “everyone thought I should work here.” The living eyes looked around at the gaudy horror decor, “But actually, this offends me.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Leon cried out while grasping his gut.

Looking down at his latest victim Franklin said “You worked at Mendota Mental Health Institute for a few months in the 1970s before they let you go. What did you do, fool around with the patients?” His assailant then stated. “If you even knew Sally Kohler, it wasn’t for very long.”

Then, looking over at the bed, the hand gripping the meat cleaver began to shake. Franklin let out a sigh of disgust as he viewed the mannequin representing Ed Gein mimicking intercourse with a fake corpse. The mouth of Gein was posed to appear as it was biting a near exposed breast.

“Ed never ate his victims, he never had sex with them either. The bodies smelled bad.” Franklin said in a cold monotone voice.

“How the hell would you know?” Leon protested as his blood spilled onto the floor.

In a calm, manner of fact way, Franklin looked down and answered. “He told me.”

“Ahh, look man,” Leon looked at his wound he pleaded. “You know your stuff, how about you be part of the act? You’d be great.” Pressing his wound, his hand was stained red as he pleaded “I.. I can even get you a movie deal. Would you like to be in a movie?”

“Oh, there will be a movie.” Franklin replied as he removed the skin mask exposing his true face. “Ed and I will see to that,” looking around at the décor one last time he added, “but it’s going to be done right, not this farce.”

Franklin was now the only living person in the psycho house as he’d swung the meat cleaver down, burying its blade in Leon’s skull.

No Gein III: The Final Cut, Part Four

Chapter Four: That First Kiss

Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Spring 2007

It was her second semester living at the Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design and she was loving it. The weather was warm again as she sat at a park bench in Catalano Square across the street from her campus. It was there that she heard a voice ask, “That’s Mushroomhead right?” The girl looked up to see another student pointing at her shirt.

Her head nodded and a little smile escaped her lips as she looked up. She had seen this guy around campus but didn’t know his name. Aside from his shoulder length reddish hair, he looked a bit like Jim Carrey from Ace Ventura.

“Cool, I saw them at The Rave last year. Ever go there?” This time she nodded her head no, as the man immediately went to his next question. “So, do you like horror movies?”

“Why?” she asked nervously.

“Just asking.” He then extended his hand as if closing a formal business deal, saying, “I’m Jonathan.”

“Not Larry?” she replied, leaving his hand hanging in the air. Over a Spiderman shirt Jonathan wore a brown collared top with a ‘Patticoni Printing’ label stitched on its right breast and the name “Larry” embroidered above it.

Jonathan looked down at his shirt with a mischievous smirk. “Oh, I just wear these for fun.” He then asked, “So, I heard you’re a horror fan?”

“Yeah, sometimes.” she answered as she wondered why this guy was talking to her.

Jonathan then mimicked the voice of the Ghost Face Killer from the Scream series, asking, “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

The girl leaned back on the bench, startled by the wicked gleam in his eye while his right hand mimicked holding a telephone, but, seeing her reaction, his expression immediately changed. “Oh, sorry, just kidding,” he said, holding his hand up, palm facing towards her. “Don’t mace me.”

Still leaning back cautiously, she did manage to relax a little as he asked her “Have you seen the new Freddy, Devil, Ash movie yet?”

“No, not yet.” She answered as she perked up. She was interested in this sequel to Freddy vs the Devil, the crossover film between Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13^th. This entry added another franchise to the mix with Ash, the lead character of the Evil Dead series.

“Well,” it sounded like Jonathan’s wall of confidence shook for just for a moment as he spat it out. “I’m off work Friday but I have to work Saturday so I was wondering if you’d like to see a movie with me Friday?” His words ran out of his mouth like a runaway train going down the tracks. It was as though had his words not escaped at that exact moment they would have been trapped, forever stalled at the train station of his dreams.

“Yes.” She felt her eyes widen as her own single word emerged, expressing shock that her vocal cords even formed the sound of that word before her brain even considered it.

“Groovy!” Jonathan said, now mimicking Ash from the Evil Dead. “Hey,” Jonathan’s voice was once again confident and energetic as he suggested, “wouldn’t it be fun if we were in costume? I’m gonna go as Ash.”

“Ok.” She never dreamed of dressing up for a movie before, but it sounded fun.

“You live in the Two50Two building right?” Stella nodded, indicating that was correct. A few exceptions aside, all full time Freshman and Sophomore students were required to live in the Two50Two building.

“Great, I’ll meet you in front of Two50Two, let’s say at five fifty-five?” Jonathan beamed with pride at the corny word pun he just made.

Stella rolled her eyes but said “OK.”

“Awesome.” He grinned at her in triumph. Then, his eyes darted about before he said. “Oh, I suppose you should know who you’re going with.” Extending his hand as if closing a formal business deal, he, “I’m Jonathan.”

“Not Larry?” she replied, leaving his hand hanging in the air. Over a Spiderman shirt Jonathan wore a brown collared top with a ‘Patticoni Printing’ label stitched on its right breast and the name “Larry” embroidered above it.

Jonathan looked down at his shirt with a mischievous smirk. “Oh, I just wear these for fun. My name really is Jonathan.” Reaching for his wallet he said, “I can show you my id if you want!”

“That’s OK.” the girl said, laughing. He couldn’t tell if he was joking or if he was actually serious, but it was cute either way.

Then, pointing at her, he said, “And you’re Stella, right.”

“Right.” she blushed, it hadn’t occurred to her to share her name.

“Ok great. So, see you Friday?”

“Sure.”

“Alright, smell ya later!” Jonathan said as he strutted away.

That Friday Stella’s doormats helped her get her cos-play ready. Jonathan was going as Ash. The Jersey Devil of the Friday the 13^th series was a full body suit, which seemed too daunting at this short notice. Hence, Stella would go as Freddy. Amber, one of her dorm mates, lent Stella her black and red sweater that resembled that of the horror villain’s. Stella pulled it over her and saw it fit well while Raina, another dorm mate, helped her with her makeup. After a coat of face paint, Stella appeared to have been horribly burned, just like the character she was cos playing. Tucking her long blonde hair under a black hat, it felt uncanny as she looked in the mirror and saw Freddy Krueger staring back at her.

“There’s just one thing missing!” her other dorm mate Michelle excitedly said. As Michelle approached it appeared she was delicately holding something in her hands. Stella’s disfigured appearing face cracked a smile that glowed through her make up as Michelle presented her a brown leather glove with plastic extensions protruding from the fingers mimicking Freddy’s claws. “I got this last Halloween, but you can have it.”

“Aww, thanks Michelle.” Stella said as she pulled the glove over her slender hand.

The girls collectively looked at Stella’s reflection in the full body mirror and were in amazed at the transformation. Looking over her slender figure, Amber said. “That is one fine Freddy!”

Waiting outside the dorms her outlook darkened as the sun began to dip, its last rays reaching out over the Milwaukee River. She got a few stares from people passing by. Some were startled, others expressed concern as they glanced her seemingly charred face. Stella wondered if anyone even got who she was supposed to be. Stella looked at her watch, it was five fifty-four. As a cool April breeze blew by and the stares continued from passerby’s, she wondered if all of this was such a good idea.

“Hail to the king baby!” Just in the nick of time, Stella heard Jonathan’s booming voice. He confidently walked toward her dressed in a long sleeved buttoned-down blue top. As he drew closer, she noticed the “Shop smart, shop S-Mart,” patch stitched into the shirt. Naturally, the name ‘Ash’ was embroidered above it. Like her, he also bore a costumed glove resembling a metal gauntlet.

“Wow, you look amazing!” He said as he saw her scarred face and her own gloved hand.

“Thanks.” she said, looking over herself, almost forgetting her costume. Then, noticing Jonathan was carrying a small backpack, she asked, “What’s that for.”

“Oh, that’s something for later.” He answered as he raised his costumed fist up where she met him with a light fist bump. She smiled as their costumed hands connected. Just for a moment, it felt electric. In the movies Freddy wasn’t slim, and actor Bruce Campbell didn’t have long reddish hair, but here, on this night, these two were perfect just as they were.

They made small talk on the bus to the theater. Jonathan did most of the talking actually, prattling on about his classes and such. Getting off the bus near the Avalon Atmospheric Theater, Stella felt a pit in her stomach as a small crowd gathered at the entrance. Some patrons were even dressed up like they were. “Just a minute.” Jonathan said as Stella faced the theater. Jonathan stopped to open his backpack from which he pulled out a toy shotgun, the handle of which appeared to have been removed. He rolled up the blue sleeve of his gloved hand and, via a contraption on his prop gun attached the barrel to his limb, making it appear not that his hand was holding the gun, but that his hand was the gun. “My boom stick!” Jonathan proudly proclaimed.

Stella covered her made up face with her own gloved hand, nearly poking herself with the plastic extensions as she giggled. “Oh my god, you’re nuts.”

Approaching the crowd in front of the theater, Stella pulled the brim of her hat down in an attempt to hide her face as the sound of clicking cameras surrounded them. She stood close to Jonathan, moving slightly behind him as he gallantly posed for pictures spouting Bruce Campbell quotes. She couldn’t believe this guy. In a way, he looked ridiculous, but he relished every moment.

After Jonathan bought tickets for the two of them, they entered the lobby to find a few others in costume. Stella was surprised to see a few people actually made full body costumes to dress up as Friday the 13^th’s Jersey Devil. Random other monsters were there too, including the werewolf from Halloween Six, Pinhead, and a few other Freddy’s. One cos-player got her attention, it was a character who had quite an impact on her life. There before her, in a fairly accurate costume, was Saw-Man. She instantly zoned out while watching the lead villain from Texas Chainsaw Massacre , not hearing anything around her.

“I said, are you supposed to be Freddy Krueger?” A condescending voice snapped her back to the theater, where in front of her stood a bald obese man with his own chocolate stained unbuttoned S-mart shirt staring at her. Through his thick glasses his eyes looked her over disapprovingly. “Freddy Krueger is supposed to be jacked!” Stella looked down, her eyes avoiding the fanboy and focused on her own slim figure.

Jonathan came to her side and interjected. “Hey, what movie was that where Ash had a giant beer gut?” he quipped, pointing to the man’s belly. Stella let out a small chuckle but still avoided eye contact.

“Whatever.” the man said, walking away dismissively.

“Don’t let that asshole bother you.” Stella heard another male voice say. “You look great!”

“Thanks.” Stella said as her gaze moved upward away from the floor where she saw another large but more fit man with short peroxide blonde hair.

“But I have to tell you something.” the man said. “The Devil wants his rematch.”

The best of the Devil cos-players lumbered towards her. His claws extended outwards, and his fang filled jaw hissed at Stella who stood motionless. She wasn’t scared, she was amazed. The level of detail in this costume was awe inspiring. She couldn’t even dream of being talented enough to make something like this. “Do you mind if I get a picture with you?” The Devil cos-player asked.

“That’d be awesome.” Jonathan answered for her as he took his own camera out of his backpack. The two horror villains faced off in the theater lobby. Stella held up her pretend bladed glove, but her face was blank, her makeup simply hung expressionless on her face.

After a snap of the camera Jonathan interjected. “Come on Stella show some ferocity. You’re the stuff of nightmares!” he said standing next to her mimicking her own pose as he coached. “Here, like this.” Jonathan hissed and glared at the devil with a fierce stare.

Stella’s lips parted, her teeth slightly protruded foreword as she posed for another picture.

“That’s better, now put some snarl into it!” Jonathan said stepping away.

Stella’s lips slid further apart, her eyes widened and her arms tensed as her gloved hand remained pointed to her fictional opponent. Out of the corner of her eye she could see she’d drawn some attention. Other people stopped and were taking pictures of her. Among the picture takers she could see that obnoxious fanboy walking away. It was then that, somewhere within her, an intensity emerged. Feelings long smothered, shamed and shunned, rose from her within her guts, up through her lungs and out of her vocal cords. From her lips sprung horrifying hiss that scared the Devil himself.

“Beautiful baby beautiful.” Jonathan clapped in approval. Stella’s gloved hand shook as it returned to her side as she wondered if those around her were as startled as she was of what had just come out of her.

“Thanks a million.” The older man said. The lobby lights flashed indicating the real show was about to begin. Turning to Jonathan the older man asked the three co-splayers, “Mind if I get a quick one with the three of you?”

Stella’s hands were still shaking, but she managed a deep relaxing breath as she felt Jonathan place his arm around her. The Devil stood happily to her side, as there would be no posing for this photo. The three cos-players smiled as if the characters they portrayed were all best friends.

As the theater grew dark the first trailer began. The lullaby “Hush Little Baby Don’t Say a Word” was softy sung by an older woman as the audience witnessed scenes of a desolate landscape. “What is this?” Jonathan asked. Once that whirring sound effect hit, Stella, as well as others in the audience, knew instantly. “Every Legend,” the chalk white text read on the screen followed by shots of R. Lee Ermey of ‘Full Metal Jacket’ fame playing the patriarch of a family of maniacs. ‘has a beginning.’ The text concluded, as a group of young people are dispatched while cries of terror came from both the silver screen and the in theater audience.

“It’s Chainsaw.” Stella answered before the logo emblazoned the screen. Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning was a prequel to the 2003 remake of the cult 70’s hit. This franchise was all too familiar to Stella, as it accidentally played a crucial role in the young girl’s life.

Once the feature presentation began, the crowd cheered wildly at the title screen. Stella had never experienced theater goers cheering for a movie before. Looking around at the enthusiastic fans, she saw that older man sitting with his Devil costumed friend. The cos-player clapped his clawed hands, but the other man sat still in his seat. In fact, as the light glowed on his face, it looked like he had shed a tear. “He must really be a big fan.” she thought to herself as the movie began.

After the show Stella sat in a comfortable chair. Her hands wrapped around the ceramic mug as she felt the heat from the java in her hands. A few bookshelves and paintings covered the walls. Stella hadn’t been to the Emporium before, but Jonathan seemed familiar with the place. The staff knew him when he walked in, and thought nothing of his shotgun arm prop, never mind his date walking in looking like a burn victim.

“That was so cool when Freddy used the Necronomicon to bring back the past Friday the 13^th victims as Deadites.” Stella agreed with her date as she sipped her steaming drink. Jonathan then asked, “Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it was awesome.”

“Think they’ll do another one?” Jonathan asked before sipping his own drink.

“I don’t know. It’d be cool if they did.”

“Yeah, lots of crossover films coming out.” Jonathan began to prattle on again. “Last year was Aliens vs Predator. Tonight was Freddy, the Devil and Ash, next year is Helloween.” Smirking he then asked, “Hey what are you doing next year? Would you want to go see that one with me?”

Stella grinned at Jonathan as she detected zero sarcasm in his question. “Well, I don’t know, let me check my calendar.” she motioned with her hands, mimicking opening an imaginary date book. “Helloween,” she asked, “don’t you mean Halloween?”

“No, Helloween. That will be a crossover between Hellraiser and Halloween.” Jonathan explained. “The cool thing about this is they’re bringing back Michael Meyers from the first two Halloweens.” Jonathan’s eyes then diverted upwards, he always looked like his mind was going a mile a minute. “I wonder if they’ll bring any other characters from the rest of the series.” He thought out loud. After Halloween II, series creator John Carpenter turned the franchise into an anthology, with each subsequent entry standing on its own. “The Wraith from part four would be interesting to see, so would the Werewolf from part six. I don’t know if Halloween H20 would fit though.” He then mimicked the impossibly deep voice of Sylvester Stallone, the washed up 80’s actor who starred in the 1998 Halloween entry in a desperate attempt to resurrect his career. “We’ll tear your soul apart!” Stella laughed again as Jonathan recited the famous line from the first Hellraiser in an 80’s action hero voice. Finally turning his attention back to his date, he asked “Are you a fan of the series?”

“Not so into Hellraiser.” Stella said, then, without thinking, she went on to say, “My sister and I went to see H20.”

“Oh, you have a sister.” Jonathan asked, “What is she doing?”

His face then grew puzzled by the awkward silence. It finally ended with, “My sister, um, uh, she died.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Jonathan sounded genuinely upset to hear this. He looked almost panicked, as if he’d unwittingly lit a fire in the woods. Almost at a whisper he asked, “What happened?”

“It was a drunk driving accident.” Stella revealed. “She got in a car with her drunk boyfriend, so…” finishing her story with a simple shrug of her shoulders.

“That’s terrible.”

In that moment he looked like he needed more comforting than she did as she reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “Thanks.” she said. It felt good holding his hand, his skin was warm and comforting.

Pulling her hand back she heard Jonathan say, “Well don’t worry, I don’t drink and drive, in fact I don’t even drink!”

“Oh, so we’re not going to the frat party after this?” Now, for the first time the whole evening, Jonathan was at a loss for words.

“I’m just kidding,” Stella laughed like she hadn’t laughed in a long time, “I don’t drink either!”

Jonathan himself laughed a sigh of relief as he held up his cup of mocha boasting, “Alright then, well, to not drinking!”

“To not drinking!” She toasted him back.

After they both took another sip of their beverages Jonathan looked around at the surrounding bookshelves and suggested “Well, since we’re not getting black out drunk tonight, want to look at some books?”

As they browsed, Stella saw both old and new books resting on the wooden bookcases. “Ever go to North Carolina?” It seemed like such a random question, but that didn’t surprise Stella at this point. She looked to see Jonathan in the travel section looking at a title that read ‘Islands at the Edge of Time.’ Jonathan explained, “I went their with my cousins one summer. This guy wrote a book about the islands on the outer banks that way. Cool stuff.”

Stella turned back to the shelf in front of her to find an old beat-up paperback. Movie Monsters by Alan Ormsby had the image of Frankenstein and the Wolfman on its blue cover. It was a book for kids, but as she thumbed through it with her left hand, she was curious to find a few pages covering monster makeup.

“Oh, I heard about this book.” Jonathan sounded really excited and as Stella turned to find him in front of the New Release shelf. The book he held bore an image of Saw-man, and the title, emblazoned in big white letters read ‘Psycho: A Tale of, Madness, Murder, and the Disappearance of George Kohler.’

Holding the hardback up, Jonathan said, “This guy directed that other Chainsaw movie.”

Noticing the subtitle, ‘the Disappearance of George Kohler, she wondered, “Oh, what happened to him?”

“Who knows.” Jonathan said as he placed the book back on the shelf. “I guess that’s what the book’s about.”

Stella immediately snatched the book back off the shelf. Removing her prop glove and placing it in her coat pocket, her fingers quickly perused the pages. She didn’t notice Jonathan wander over to the thriller section. She didn’t see him point to a few hardcovers, and only half heard him as he asked, “Ever read Robert Bloch?” Stella was too focused on the tome in front of her to answer, but Jonathan added regardless. “He was one of my favorites. Did you know he went to high school right here in Milwaukee?”

Stella hadn’t even heard the question as she closed the book and stared at its cover price. “Tell you what,” she now heard Johnathan say, “I’ll buy that for you, and you tell me where George is.”

“Really?” She looked up to his eyes as she asked.

“Sure, save’s me the trouble of reading it myself. “ He then gave that odd chuckle she’d already got used to hearing. “Besides,” Jonathan boasted as he pulled a small business card from his wallet. “I get the membership discount.” He then made a clicking sound with his mouth and winked at her.

Stella burst into laughter at Jonathan’s mannerisms. “You’re adorable.” she said as she placed the book into his hands.

On the bus back to campus, Stella clung to the Emporium bag in her hand, anxious to read her newly owned book. Looking out the window she noticed a few familiar superhero logos, along with some she was not as familiar with.

“Ever read comics?” Stella wondered how many girls Jonathan asked that question too. She also wondered how many of them said ‘yes’. “No, not really.” She answered as she remembered her friend Megan. ‘She would have liked a store like that’, she thought to herself as she added. “I knew a girl in high school that liked them. I liked the X-men movies, those were cool.”

“Awesome, well if you ever want to check out some comics. I’ll take you there sometime.”

“Um, ok.” she said, looking back down at her bag.

 Soon their stop came. The pair got off the bus and Jonathan walked her to the Two50Two building and said, “Well, I got an all day shift tomorrow so I’m gonna drop you off here, OK?”

Stella shook her head ‘yes’ thinking to herself how she wished this night would never end. Jonathan then told her, “I had a really good time tonight.”

Earlier in the evening, when Stella stood at this same spot, she was unsure how this evening would be. She wasn’t sure if going out in this costume to meet this guy was even a good idea. Now she stood in front of her new home, having had one of the best nights she could ever remember. “I did too.” She told Jonathan. “Thanks.”

Jonathan slowly reached his arms towards her, his fingers slightly trembled as they brushed her hair. Throughout the evening Jonathan projected an aura of confidence, but there periodic moments like this where he was exposed as being just as nervous as she was. Stella brought herself closer to him as their arms gently wrapped around each other. She felt his head turn towards her. Through her makeup she could still feel his lips brush her cheek, where she heard the gentle sound of his lips part. She couldn’t wait anymore, bringing her mouth to his she heard him inhale, as if he were honestly surprised to be getting kissed himself. His lips were warm and moist, and just for a moment she felt the tip of her tongue on his. It was simple, magical, and perfect just the way it was.

The evening ended with her whisper. “Good night.”

No Gein III: The Final Cut, Part Three

Chapter Three: The Last Date

I-39 North, June 11^th, 2004

“Six dollars, it’s like a dollar an hour!” Lindsey burst into laughter as her boyfriend did a spot-on impersonation of Napoleon Dynamite, the movie they’d just seen before beginning the drive home.

“Eat the food!” Lindsey chimed in with her own impersonation. Ben laughed as he watched the road ahead of him. Lindsey then watched Ben’s expression shift from laughter shift to surprise. She was taken back herself as she turned to see the normally desolate freeway dotted with pairs of red break lights. “Oh wow,” Lindsey said, “there must have been an accident.”

“Hope it wasn’t anything too serious.” Ben said as he turned up the radio and held his foot on the break. For the first time in their lives, they were in a traffic jam, something hard to come by in the state of Wisconsin, but nothing phased them these days. Life was great, they’d just graduated high school, were about to go off to college, and the possibilities were as open as the wide prairies surrounding them.

“The Reason” from Hoobastank played on the radio as Ben lit a cigarette. “Thanks for the movie.” Lindsey said as she leaned over, brushing his arm with her hand.

“No problem.” Ben said as he took a puff of his cigarette.

Remembering her recently departed great-grandmother, Lindsey asked, “Remember that time my Nana took us to the movies for my brother’s birthday?”

“Yeah, we went roller skating afterwards.” Ben recalled, tapping his cigarette on his windowsill sending the ashes to the macadam below. “I didn’t want to go because I couldn’t skate.” Ben recalled with a laugh. “Franklin really wanted to see that horror movie, but your brother didn’t want to invite him unless I was there too.”

“What, really?” Lindsey never knew this nugget of information. That was the day she first met Ben. Even back then, when they were just barely teenagers, Lindsey knew there was something special about him. “Why was that?” she inquired.

Looking out into the night illuminated by the red glow of the brake lights, he explained. “I was like his only friend back then. I guess I was supposed to keep him in line or something.” Lindsey nodded as she remembered Ben’s friend who had a reputation of being odd and intense.

“You know,” Ben then looked at his date to reveal, “I had a crush on you even back then.”

“Awww!” Lindsey leaned toward him granting a tiny taste of her lips. Pulling back, she blushed as Ben’s face was now marked with a small red smear.

As she playfully wiped his mouth with her handkerchief, she heard him say, “Yeah, Franklin used to tell me that I’d have to fight him to the death for you.”

“Oh really?” she said, putting the handkerchief back in her pocket.

“Yeah,” Ben said laughing as the traffic slowly crept forward. “You know, the thing was I think he was serious!”

“So I take it you won?”

They both laughed as he replied. “No, I just went and asked you out!”

Squeezing his hand, suddenly a memory emerged from years ago. It was such a trivial thing, but still. “There was something I never told you.” she said quietly.

“Oh yeah.”

“Remember when we went to the winter formal?”

“Of course I do. That was a great night.” She knew he was right, it was a great night. That night was the first time, for both of them.

“Franklin asked me to go with him.” she suddenly revealed.

“What?” Lindsey didn’t know how he would react. He didn’t look angry, more surprised. She supposed it didn’t matter now.

Telling more of the story, Lindsey said, “Yeah, remember that time we went to that awful Hell House that year?”

“Oh yeah, that weird church put that on.” Ben recalled. “Wasn’t that the church that closed up after Y2K didn’t and the world and all that.”

“I think so, yeah.”

“You know what? I do remember that haunted house thing. We had a fight that night.”

“We did?”

“Yeah, you were really offended and wanted to leave.” Ben recalled. Lindsey had forgotten all about that awful skit where a woman was portrayed as getting raped then going to hell. “I wanted to see it all since I paid for it!” He laughed.

“Wow, I’d forgotten all about that.” As she spoke she recalled how the big rumor around school was that they’d broken up, but those were put to rest when they arrived at the Winter Formal together. “Anyway, when I left I went to the hardware store to get some stuff for my mom, and he was there.”

“He was? Wasn’t he working at the Hell House? I remember he was all stoked about that.”

“Yes, he was, he was talking to me about one of the rooms he designed or something.”

“Oh, right.” Ben remembered. “He got kicked out that night because he got into a fight with Ken Tramer.”

“He did!” Lindsey said.

“Yeah, Ken told me about it at school the next week.”

“I never knew that. Anyway, I ran into him at the store. I think he asked me to watch a movie with him or something, and then he asked me to the dance.”

Ben jokingly asked, “Well, did you think about saying yes?”

“I was just shocked. I never had anything against the guy, but I was like, ‘How are you asking me out you know I’m dating Ben?”

Shaking his head showing complete understanding Ben said “It was like he had tunnel vision. If he wanted something, nothing else mattered.”

“I’m sorry,” Lindsey said, hoping not to offend him. “I know he was your friend.”

Ben said nothing as the traffic moved along. Their exit was soon approaching. As he and Lindsey looked around, there seemed to be no sign of an accident, no flashing red lights, no police or ambulance in sight. Still, Ben gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Ah shit!” he said, looking to his left.

“What is it?”

“I totally forgot that opened tonight.” Ben said aloud. As the traffic slowly trickled to the Plainfield exit ramp exit ramp Lindsey’s stomach turned at the image before her. A large billboard bore the image of a big burly maniac donned in a leathery like mask wielded a chainsaw. Surrounding him were scantily clad females whose cleavage spilled over, their mouths hung agape seemingly screaming in terror. Little blood or gore was displayed but the presence of meat hooks behind the women left little to the imagination. The bloody text of the roadside billboard read ‘Gein Ghoul House’.

“Wow, I’m so sorry.” Ben said, embarrassed as he knew the attention their little town had been getting made Lindsey uncomfortable.

“It’s OK.” Lindsey assured. Looking to her left at the line of cars crawling down I-39 south, Lindsey could see the actual house that was the attraction. Its Second Empire Victorian architecture looked like it belonged on a Hollywood backlot instead of the Wisconsin landscape. “You know,” Lindsey observed, “that’s not even where he lived?”

“Where who lived?” Ben asked flicking his cigarette out the window.

“You know, that Gein guy whose property they found all those bodies.” Motioning with her thumb towards the east she added, “He really lived out that way. Did you know my dad was the one who discovered all that?”

“Really? He’s the one who found the bodies?”

“Yeah, he dug them up by accident when he was working for the county.”

“Oh wow.” Ben looked relieved as they were finally getting to their exit. “Did you still want to go to the cemetery?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Most of the other cars around them used this exit to take Highway 73 west to head to the new morbid local attraction. Hence the traffic was now clear for Ben and Lindsey as they took 73 east for just a moment before making the left at 5^th avenue toward the Plainfield Cemetery. The interstate was still visible off to the west, but little to no cars were heading north of their little town. As they approached the cemetery gate, Lindsey asked. “Have you talked to Franklin recently?”

Shaking his head no, Ben answered. “Not in a long time actually. He got too weird for me, always on about serial killers and shit.” Looking toward the interstate he said “He’s probably in his glory days now. Hell, I’ll bet he’s working at that damn spook house.”

“He works at the senior center.” Lindsey replied. “He looked after Nana and Ronnie. She always said he was really good to her. Guess he wasn’t all bad.”

“That’s cool. I should probably call him sometime. I heard his parents passed.”

“Oh really, what happened?”

“I don’t know. Natural causes, I guess. From what I heard they both died at home.”

“Oh!” Lindsey got scared for a minute. Ben slammed on the breaks and looked about. Lindsey then put her hands up to her face “I’m sorry.” She giggled as she looked to her right. She felt so silly reacting to the sight of a freshly dug grave. What else would she expect to see at night in a cemetery? “I wonder who that is?” she said aloud. In their small community there had been no recent deaths. While they couldn’t make out the name on the tombstone, one word at its head of the tombstone was the most visible to the couple. That word was ‘Mother.’

“Let’s go see who it is.” Ben said as he switched off the ignition before asking. “Can you reach in the glove compartment and get my flashlight?” As both of them got out of the car, Lindsey followed Ben from behind as he shined his light toward the open grave. The sounds of traffic and beeping horns were far behind them as now the only sound they heard were crickets and the crunching of gravel under their feet. Ben’s light poured into the freshly dug grave. “Nothing down here.” He said.

“Look.” Lindsey said tugging Ben’s arm.

“What the hell?” It didn’t make sense, but a coffin rested right near them. It looked small and light, and also looked really old. “Why would they just leave this out here?” Ben wondered aloud. Lindsey gasped as she looked ahead. “What is it?” Ben asked. Her only answer was to point to the stone before them, a stone that rested here longer than any of them realized.

This grave had been here since 1953.

“Oh no, Nana!” Lindsey said in a horrific realization as she ran through the cemetery. She heard Ben calling from behind for her to wait, but she couldn’t wait. That tasteless haunted attraction was one thing, but this was too far. Their little town made national news this past year as it was discovered that decades ago, a man named Edward Gein went grave robbing undetected. He died in a house fire and his crimes went undiscovered until remains were accidentally unearthed just a year ago. Now some sick freak was looking to be a copy-cat, and all she could think of was her recently departed Nana.

Her chest heaved as she placed her hands on her hips and breathed a deep sigh of relief. There before her, was the perfectly intact grave of her relation. At least someone had left her be.

She turned around to see Ben’s light still behind her. He hadn’t caught up to her yet, in fact his flashlight seemed to be sitting in the grass. Was he checking a grave of his own relation? He did have family buried here, most of the locals did. “Ben.” She called out. “It’s OK, she’s fine, but let’s get out of here, alright?” There was no answer.

As she picked up her pace, moving quickly among the grave markers, the light ahead remained still. Then, she slowed back down as she approached it, another pile of overturned earth. Dammit, this sicko violated another grave, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The flashlight must have been carefully placed on the ground so the beam of light could shine in that exact direction, perfectly illuminating the exposed earth; and there, in front of the marble slab, sat Ben. His throat slashed and was still bleeding onto his shirt.

“Ben!” she shouted as she rushed to his side, desperately pushing her hands on the wound in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. She shouted his name again and again, but it was too late. She sorrowfully cradled him in her arms. His blood now stained her own clothing as she took his car keys. “Oh, Ben.” she sobbed, kissing his forehead as she said goodbye to the future they imagined together, a future that was so shockingly and suddenly cut short.

Keys in hand, she ran back toward the car, her head frantically looked about but could see no assailant. Ben’s car sat ahead of her. For a millisecond she felt a sense of relief, but as soon as she set eyes on the vehicle she sensed something was wrong. Speeding closer to it, her worst fears were confirmed. All four tires were slashed.

Crying out in desperation, Lindsey leaned over with her hands on her knees. It was then she saw it. A black shape emerged from the tree line ahead of her. Long curly hair bounced in the night as the figure approached. It appeared to be carrying a long object, like a shovel.

Lindsey bolted away screaming, knowing there was no one around to help, and no way home except her own feet. With no light of her own, her eyes tried as best they could to scan the area in front of her. She feared stumbling over the white tombstones that dotted the landscape, but those fears were alleviated in a twisted manner as she fell into yet another unearthed grave. Her body hit with a hard thud as she struck the dirt wall. The sound of her ankle snapping was dulled by the loose dirt below. Now another sound was audible aside from her screams of fear and pain. It was the sound of footsteps.

Lindsey covered her mouth, smothering her screams of agony and terror as the sound of the footsteps grew louder. From above she could see another beam of light moving about. She desperately wanted to cry out for help but knew there was no help to be had.

The beam of light then fell into the pit exposing Lindsey and all her vulnerability. Looking up, she could see the shape of a person standing over her. Its long curly hair flopped down to the person’s shoulders as the shape simply stood over the open pit and stared. Lindsey could hear this person breathing as the beam of light slowly lifted up until it exposed the face the person above her wore. She didn’t know to plead for help or mercy as the face of Franklin’s mother looked down on her. At least it looked like his mother’s face, but something about it wasn’t right. Its skinned unnaturally drooped off the head as if it were placed on the wrong skull. Besides, hadn’t Ben said that she died? The figure also appeared taller than she remembered his mother being. The chest appeared perfectly flat, and the body was wiry as if she’d lost a lot of weight. None of that mattered in the moment, as Lindsey shot up her hand and cried out for help. A masculine hand pulled the strange face back, its wet skin slipping off like a glove. Laurie whaled in shock, falling back into the pit as the female face now hung from the person’s hand by its hair. Only now was the proper face of this person clear. His hair was a mess, but that was nothing new. That face stained in blood was one she knew too well.

“Ed told me about your Great Grandmother.” Franklin said as he stood over Lindsey. What he was saying was incomprehensible to her, but he babbled on. “She was a lot like you. He tried to be nice to her, and what did he get?”

The earth crumbled in her fingers as she desperately tried to reach up and crawl away. She heard a light thump, like a wet rag dropping to the ground as his mother’s face fell next to the hole. The smell of dead skin trickled down into the pit. “The same thing I got.” was the last thing Lindsey ever heard as the thick blade of the shovel pierced her skull.  

No Gein III: The Final Cut. Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Desperation

Amherst, Wisconsin. April 25th^th, 2003

Stella sat at her desk drawing, trying to blot out the world around her. It wasn’t easy though. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her. Study hall was mostly quiet, but small whispers accompanied stares while she attempted to create something in her sketchbook. The school newspaper folded up on her desk advertised a student art contest. Stella knew she wasn’t good enough to win, but working on a submission would at least be something to do to pass the time. The problem was her mind was drawing a blank. She’d been in a daze the last few weeks, with no inspiration in sight. Her charcoal pencil doodled on the sketchpad, desperately trying to form some design she could work with.

There were a few giggles as a spitball hit her in the back. Slamming her pencil down in her sketchbook, she stood up. A hush fell over the study hall as the other kids wondered what she would do, if anything. Brushing herself off, she walked over to one of the computers and put on a headset.

Surfing the web, she clicked on a link for a new horror movie trailer. It would take a few minutes to download, especially with public school connection speed. Amherst was still stuck in the stone age at 56k. Waiting for her video file to download, she surfed the forums at UpcomingHorrorMovies.com while she noticed someone sitting next to her.

A few minutes later the flash player was up. The small window on the computer monitor showed a lone girl stumbling into a room where the floor was covered in bones and debris. Naturally, she screams, but it wasn’t a typical horror movie scream. It was a guttural intense scream, a scream from someone actually experiencing the moment. It looked like she really was running out of that house as fast as she could when a man grabbed her from behind. She struggled with all her might as this man brought her into another room. It didn’t even look like they filmed this movie. It looked like this was really happening, and someone just happened to be there with a camera. Someone was just standing there filming as the woman was drug helplessly toward the deadly object. My god, they really wouldn’t show this in the movie, would they? Stella looked behind her to make sure the teacher couldn’t see what she was watching. It was safe, at least for the moment. Stella looked back at the screen to see this poor girl wailing and fighting for her life as the fiend walked her closer to it. There it hung, a shiny metal meat hook.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre would be out this summer. Stella remembered when she first heard the news of this remake; she thought her and her sister would go see it. Juliana, her sister, hated horror movies, but took her to see Psycho when they were back in middle school. She remembered her sister squirming in her seat due to the obnoxious teenagers in the front. “Yeah, let’s see some titties!” one of the boys shouted at the screen while in the movie a woman was murdered in the shower.

“Hey, what is that?” Stella was brought back to the present by voice of the study hall teacher. As his footsteps approached her fingers quickly clicked on the mouse to minimize the window. Luckily, she was safe, but the kid next to her was not, as he’d just been caught looking at girly pics.

After that commotion was over, she brought the window back up and finished the video clip, the ending of which truly struck her. Its last moments featured a large burly looking man who wore some kind of strange leather-like mask; it almost looked as though he was wearing another person’s face. He had thick black curly hair and a blood-stained apron. Standing in what looked like a flat Texas field, the sun shined over head as the maniac spun his body about, frantically waving the titular chainsaw through the air. Several times Stella clicked back to re-watch these last few seconds of video, finally pausing at one particular moment. The still frame image embedded itself in the mind of this teenage girl. It was beautifully violent, a juxtaposition of man’s wickedness and the peaceful calm of his natural surroundings. It was both ugly and serene, disturbing and wondrous. It was inspirational.

Stella went home that day to find her dad sitting in front of the TV drunk again. No words were exchanged as she went upstairs. She didn’t bother going to her own bedroom, instead, she sat in her sister’s empty room. Dad hadn’t touched it since…

Juliana’s basketball trophies were getting dusty, so Stella decided to wipe them off. It was the least she could do. Her sister had this big desk in her room. Maybe it was why she had good grades. This desk had so much space to do all kinds of work on, like drawing.

Stella couldn’t bring herself to ask her dad to move it though. This was Juliana’s desk, it belonged in Juliana’s room. Sitting in that space, she got her sketchbook out again. That image from the movie trailer was still fresh in her mind. Her charcoal pencil now eagerly brushed the canvas that was her sketchbook. Time vanished as Stella found herself in an artistic zone, transferring the image in her mind onto the page with ease. She didn’t even hear the sound of the door opening behind her, nor did she hear the approaching footsteps or smell the scent of alcohol. Finally, her father grabbed her shoulder and lightly shook her. “Earth to Stella.”

Stella jumped and screamed as her father stepped back, almost dropping what he was carrying in his hand. Her pencil again dropped to the notepad, this time leaving a mark on her piece. “Jesus, dad, you scared me.” She didn’t know what he wanted, but then she noticed the aroma. It covered the scent of whisky that had been on her dad’s breath too often these days. It was a much better and more appetizing smell.

“I brought you something to eat.” Her father said, putting a paper plate on Juliana’s desk. The plate just barely held a few slices of pizza. Steam was still rising from the hot tomato sauce and garlic as it must have just come out of the microwave. Her father squeamishly smiled and said, “I made it myself.”

“Thanks.” His daughter said quietly before returning her gaze to her sketchbook. She frustratingly reached for her eraser and desperately tried to erase the stray mark.

“What are you drawing there.” Her father asked, looking over her shoulder.

“Just something for school.” she answered, maintaining her focus on her work.

“Oh, looks good. Looks scary.” her father said with a laugh.

“It’s just a first try. I’ll rework it and add color later.”

Looking over the desk, her father said, “I was thinking, would you want to have this desk? I can move it into your room if you want.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Ok. Well, um, I won’t disturb you. Don’t stay up too late, OK?”

She said nothing as his father stumbled to the doorway, where he stopped and turned to say. “You know, I was thinking, maybe next weekend we should go out of town. Would do us both some good. Maybe we can go down to Hancock and go roller skating or catch a movie or something. I know that new X-men movie is coming out next week. You still like that stuff, right?”

“Yeah, sure dad.” Her voice expressed zero enthusiasm as she continued working on her piece.

“Stella,” her father desperately tried to find the right words. “Stella, I miss her too you know.”

Again, there was silence. Even the charcoal pencil ceased its scratching as he walked away. Stella couldn’t bring herself to admit it, but her father was right. They both needed a change of scenery. Maybe getting out of Amherst for an afternoon wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

May 2cnd, 2003

Stella again sat alone in study hall doodling in her notebook, but her listlessness was so strong even this was boring now. She stood up and walked by the computers, but they were all taken. She noticed Megan, one of the girls in study hall with her, looking at some comic book website. As Megan scrolled through the page, an image of a character Stella recognized appeared. Wolverine was shown on the cover of something called Ultimate X-men, with a logo reading FCBD on the top. Stella didn’t know what all this was, but she liked that X-men movie and was excited to go see the new one this weekend. She could also appreciate the colors and design on the comic pages as Megan continued scrolling through images of other FCBD books.

“Pretty cool huh?” Megan said as she noticed Stella staring.

“Yeah, it looks neat.” Stella replied. Then reading the text on the monitor, she asked “What is Free Comic Book Day.”

“It’s a day when publishers send a bunch of free books to comic book stores to try to attract new readers.” Megan said. “They’re having it tomorrow; some stores get industry people to appear and do signings.”

“That sounds cool.” Stella said.

“Yeah, too bad there’s no stores like that out here.” Megan complained. “I hope one of these years I can get out to Milwaukee and check one out.”

Stella nodded while she continued looking at the screen. There was an awkward silence, as Stella didn’t know what to say next. Some kids next to her were giggling a bit which added to her discomfort.

“Hey, I meant to say we all really appreciate the make up work you did for the play this spring.” Megan said.

“Thanks.” Stella said sheepishly. She wasn’t used to anyone complimenting her work.

“Did you submit something to the art contest?”

“Yeah, I did. I didn’t hear anything yet.” Stella answered. Her head then turned down toward the floor as she said, “Probably didn’t win I guess.”

“Oh, Mr. Avery got swamped this week.” Megan explained. “From what I heard, he’s going to call the winner this weekend.”

Stella already put the idea of winning out of her mind, she only did this stupid contest to pass the time anyway. That awkward silence came back, then was finally interrupted by a boy. One of the kids who was giggling earlier, said “Hey Stella, I’m done here.” He got up out of his seat and asked, “You wanna use this computer?”

She didn’t answer but sat down at the screen. Clicking on the Firefox browser, seeing the new default screen felt like getting hit in the head with a sledgehammer. She hated that website rotten.com. Horror movies were one thing, but this site was renowned for posting celebrity morgue pictures and other actual death related stuff. Everyone in school knew the highway from the pic shown on the monitor, and the site of twisted metal and shattered glass made Stella sick to her stomach.

The boys behind her howled in laughter as Stella almost fell out of her chair. She was so shocked she couldn’t even speak, but when Megan saw the screen they were all looking at she shouted, “Real mature assholes!” With tears in her eyes, Stella stormed out the room, not even bothering to take the hall pass.

Stella hated this bathroom, but it was the closest one. The smell of cigarettes made her nausea worse, as did the cigarette butts floating in the toilet. After wiping her mouth with toilet paper, she flushed the combination of wet tobacco and vomit down the commode. She could hear some girls laughing over the sound of the water swirling away.

Coming out of the stall, she saw her standing there. Lisa was the last girl she wanted to see right now, but there she was smirking as she took another puff of her cigarette while standing by the sink with her friend. “Gee bitch, you’re skinny enough as it is and now you’re in their being all bulimic.”

Stella said nothing as she walked towards the door, but she winced as smoke was blown in her face. “I’m not done talking to you.” Lisa said as she stood in front of Stella. Her friend stood to Lisa’s side blocking Stella’s way out. The timid girl froze as Lisa then stepped back and said, “Ah, you know what, I was being too hard on you.” Stella’s shoulders moved up and down as she took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry your sister died.” Stella nodded as if to say thanks. Then Lisa stepped forward, raising her voice to say, “I’m sorry she died because I was gonna kick her fucking ass! Bitch stole my man but hey,” she stretched her arms outwards to finish, “maybe I as better off. It wasn’t my guts splattered all over the highway!”

Lisa’s friend laughed as Stella rushed out into the hallway. “Don’t drink and drive.” The friend chimed in as Stella fled.

It was long past time to get out of this place “Dad I’m home.” Stella said. “Are you ready to go?” There was no response as she walked in her house, but she got all the answer she needed once she saw her father passed out on the couch. Jerry Springer played on the TV as a bottle of Jack Daniels lay open on the table in front of him. She cursed herself for even getting her hopes up. Grabbing the bottle in disgust she took it to the bathroom upstairs. This wouldn’t be the first time these past few weeks she poured her father’s alcohol down the drain, but this time, as she saw her reflection in the mirror, she realized this bottle had a better use.

She almost gagged as soon as she tasted it, it was like liquid fire going down her throat. The only reason she didn’t spit the whole mouthful back up was because she didn’t want to defile her sister’s room. “How does anybody think this is cool.” she thought to herself. Looking at her sister’s trophies again, she wondered, why did her sister think this was cool. Was it because of that boy? Was her date hot enough to convince her to get in the car with him after he’d been drinking this shit?

After another smaller sip she sat back and slowly began to understand the appeal. Normally her mind was always running, always thinking, bouncing around from one thought to the next, but now her thoughts slowed down like an empty canoe floating in a lake. Numbness washed over her as she tried another sip. Looking over her sister’s display case, as the light shined off the golden trophies Stella understood the truth. Her sister shouldn’t have died, it should have been her instead.

Everyone loved Juliana. She was the perfect daughter, good grades, lots of friends, star athlete, popular with boys, while Stella was the weird little sister everyone ignored. Most people left Stella alone on account of who her sister was, but now that Juliana was gone it was like open season on the loser sibling. No one liked this odd artsy quiet kid who liked 80’s horror movies and grind-core music. What was that slut Lisa so mad about anyway? It’s not like she didn’t have a boyfriend, several if locker room rumors were true. Stella never even had a boy hold her hand, let alone a kiss, let alone…

The world took Juliana away, and it was a terrible mistake, a mistake Stella decided she should correct. She didn’t just bring the bottle to her departed sister’s room; she also brought the pills. She’d been thinking about it for a while now. She thought about it before the accident even. Nobody gave a damn about her. Hell, maybe she would be making the world a better place.

Stella took another fiery drink before looking at the trophies one last time. She then lay down on her sister’s bed and kissed the pillow. She placed the Jack on the nightstand, next to the picture of her and Juliana, and opened the bottle of pills. She figured it would be quick. One good handful of pills washed down by one quick swig of the bottle, and it’d be lights out.

Her body lay face down on the bed when the phone rang.

No Gein III: The Final Cut. Chapter One

This is the final in a series of stories about what if murderer Ed Gein hadn’t gotten caught. To read the first of these stories, click here.

Chapter One: A Tough Old Broad

May 2cnd, 2004. Senior Center, Plainfield Wisconsin.

Bernice liked Franklin. Her great grandkids didn’t seem to care for him much, but she never minded having him around. Kind of reminded her of, of…

Who was that again? It didn’t matter. Franklin was a fine young man who always took care of her. She hated how her, and her husband Ronald had to live in this home now, but it was getting harder and harder for them to take care of themselves, and they weren’t getting any younger. As a matter of fact, she’d be turning 105 next week. She couldn’t believe she’d lived through three centuries. Of course, she was just a year old at the turn of the 20^th so maybe that didn’t count.

Bernice turned her head to see Franklin making his rounds checking on her husband Ronald. So nice of this place to let her share a room with Ronnie, who was just laying there peacefully, his head resting on the side of his pillow. A little drool dripped out of his mouth which Franklin kindly wiped away after pulling out a syringe he’d used on Ronald’s IV. She figured it must be vitamins or something that Franklin was giving him, must have been something good for him.

Franklin then came over to her bedside. He wasn’t smiling this time. He didn’t ask how she was feeling. Instead, he asked something else. He looked so serious as he asked, “Now, can you tell me anything about Ed?”

“Who was Ed?” She thought to herself. Franklin was such a peculiar lad. He seemed like a good worker, she bet this place got twice his salary’s work out of him. He was a nice fellow, just a little odd.

“He asked you to go roller skating.” Franklin recalled. “Ronald told me about it when I was a kid.” Bernice remembered when Franklin was just a boy, she took her great grandkids and their friends, including Franklin, to the movies and roller skating in Hancock. It was Tommy’s birthday, or was it Lindsey’s? God, she couldn’t remember now. Even then Franklin seemed a little strange, she could see even back then how other kids didn’t like him.

“You know, Ed.” Bernice heard Franklin say as she simply stared at him blankly. “Eddie Gein.”

Oh, good heavens, she hadn’t thought of that man in years. Ed was a simple man who lived out on the edge of town, always willing to help with handywork around people’s homes. If you paid him a dollar, you got a dollar and a half of work out of him. Kids liked it when he babysat them, he’d take them to ball games and to the movies. She remembered one day working at the hardware store and he came in to talk to her. As she thought about it, that might have been the last time she ever saw him.

“You said after he died there were stories his property was haunted.” Franklin stated. He was so serious. His hands fluttered and his eyes darted about when he talked, he kind of reminded her of old Eddie Gein. “What kind of stories were there?” he asked intensely. “Did you ever see his ghost?”

Just for a flash of a moment she remembered a story her and Ronnie saw on the news. They’d dug up a bunch of old graves on the edge of town, out by where old Eddie and his parents used to live. “Why are you asking me about that horrible stuff?” Bernice responded. Then, trying to deflect the conversation she changed the subject. “How are your parents?”

“They’re sleeping.” Franklin said in a deadpan voice. But they weren’t sleeping, they were right there. Franklin’s mom was standing at the edge of Bernice’s bed. My god, it looks like she has a horrible cut on her neck! She better see a doctor. Franklin’s dad is standing there too, and he doesn’t look too good either. Neither of them seemed concerned about their injuries, as a matter of fact, it looked like they’re worried about her. Why should they be afraid for her? She’s here safe in her own bed sharing the room with Ronnie while this nice boy Franklin takes care of her.

He didn’t look so nice now as his hands gripped the bed and he brought his face really close to hers. “Now listen bitch!” Such horrible language, his mom needs to wash his mouth out with soap; but Bernice couldn’t see Franklin’s mom anymore, she couldn’t see his dad either. All she saw was Franklin glaring at her with a hate she’d never seen before. “You knew Ed, and you’re gonna tell me about him. I warned you yesterday, if you didn’t tell me, then your husband was going to go,” but he didn’t go, Ronald was standing right there. God, he looks so handsome, and so young! Bernice was always grateful to land such a great man, but Ronnie looked scared now. He was mouthing words like he was trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t hear a sound. She could only see him motioning with his hands to the room’s panic button like he wanted her to press it. Why would he want her to hit the panic button? Why didn’t he push it himself if he wanted it pressed so bad? Besides, there was nothing to panic about. She was fine right here with this nice boy Franklin.

“Last chance Bernice.” Franklin still looked so serious. “They say he killed Mary Hogan; did you know her?” Franklin asked as he backed away and pulled out another syringe. Bernice kept looking at him blankly, saying nothing as she looked at the needle. She still said nothing as he injected the fluid from the syringe into her IV. She supposed he was giving her some vitamins, such a nice boy. She hoped her husband got those good vitamins too. Franklin then pulled out the syringe and walked away. He didn’t even say goodbye. Franklin had been such a helpful lad, but he really needed to work on his manners if he ever hoped to land a girl.

Bernice couldn’t tell how much time had passed. She remembered laying in her room watching TV when that nursing room smell faded away. Franklin must have cleaned the place good, but there wasn’t that clean smell either, it smelled like, like nothing. Then suddenly, the TV, and everything else just kind of switched off and went black, like someone turned the lights out on the whole world. At least she couldn’t feel the aches in her bones anymore. That awful after taste from her pills was gone too. Strange thing was she could still hear the TV, like it was still on somewhere far away, but soon that sound faded away as well, as though someone turned the volume all the way down.  

The next thing she heard was music, “Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream.” It was that old song she liked by the Chordettes. Her mouth had a salty taste in it, and she needed a drink. Soon she caught the aroma of good beer.

As if waking up from a deep sleep, Bernice found herself sitting at a bar. It hadn’t struck her yet how strange this was. It didn’t feel weird that she recognized this place as the Crossroads Tavern in Pine Grove, nor was she surprised to see its owner, old “Bloody Mary” tending bar. “Here you go hon!” Mary said while sliding a mug of beer down towards her customer. Bernice quickly grabbed the sliding mug off the bar and took a full swig of beer. It felt smooth going down and tasted heavenly. In fact, it was better than any beer she ever had in her life. Slamming the mug down, she felt great, like she’d just stepped into a brand-new body, but her memory was still a little fuzzy. She couldn’t recall when the last time she even saw Mary Hogan. God, it had to have been even before she met Ronnie.

“Mary!” Bernice exclaimed. “Whatever happened to you?” she said as she was passed a second mug of beer. Blurting her thoughts out loud, Bernice said, “I remember you went and vanished one day. We always heard you were mixed up with the mob and they came for you or something like that.”

Mary was a tough old broad. She took down a big gulp of her own beer before laughing and saying, “You know, in my day I fought gangsters and cops and all kinds of maniacs, and then I go and get whacked by the village idiot. Can you believe that shit?”

Bernice couldn’t help but laugh, but she also wondered aloud. “The village idiot?”

“Yeah, remember old Eddie Gein?” Mary said after she gulped down a beer of her own.

Bernice gasped, “No…” it was inconceivable to her, but Mary nodded her head in earnest.

“Honest to God, he walked in here one night and shot me right in the head. Never saw it coming.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Bernice reached out and squeezed Mary’s hand tight. Before releasing her grip, she said “We, we had no idea.”

“Meh, life throws you all kinds of curve-balls.” Mary said as she poured herself another drink.

“Cheers to that.” Bernice said as the two women toasted each other. Mary then observed, “You know, I was always envious of you.”

“Good heavens, why on Earth would you be envious of me?” For years Bernice owned the local hardware store before selling it off and enjoyed an extended retirement with her husband Ronald. She led a long and happy, but rather uneventful life. She certainly was never a colorful character like Mary.

Now puffing a big cigar that seemed to just come out of nowhere, Mary answered, “In Uptown sometimes we get to watch other places, kind of like different channels on a TV. Remember that time old Eddie Gein came in your store and was asking about guns?” Bernice nodded as her now crystal-clear mind instantly recalled that particular day. “There’s another spot,” Mary explained, “where he comes for you about three weeks later.”

“Really?” Bernice gasped. “So, how come that never happened to me?”

“Some young girl,” Mary explained, “who only exists in our place, had a run in with him. Gein ended up getting killed, but that poor girl suffered for the rest of her life for what she saw that night. We all had a real ghoul living right near us and no one ever knew.”

Bernice shook at the realization. Taking a slow sip of her drink, she said one simple thing. “That’s so scary.”

“You think that’s bad; you should see the one where Hitler wins the war.” Mary’s voice was always loud and boisterous, but this revelation came at almost a whisper. “That one’s God damn awful.”

Bernice never imagined Mary being scared of anything, and she herself shuddered at the horrible thought.

 “It’s total bullshit how you went out.” Mary went on. “Wouldn’t even let you see a hundred and five.” she said laughing. “When this world’s author gets here, we both should give him a good kick in the balls. If that fucker wanted a world without Gein I could have shot the bastard myself instead of putting some poor girl through all that misery.” Bernice now looked confused as Mary seemed to be rambling. “Anyway, sorry.” Mary said, holding her hand up. “Point is, you still got to live a long life. You got to see your kids and grandkids. Hell, you even got to see your great grandkids you lucky bitch!” Ed’s victim and would be victim laughed and toasted each other again.

“Did you have kids?” Bernice asked.

“It was kind of a secret, but I had a daughter. Got grandkids too and even a great grandson. I see them, from afar you know. That’s the rules, but you know, we’ll all meet in Uptown someday.”

It was then that a new song came on the jukebox. It was another tune that Bernice recognized.

Better luck next time
That could never be
Because there ain’t gonna be no next time
For me
No, siree

She always liked Tony Perkins song; and of course, she always thought he was so handsome. He never got too famous, but he was also a great actor. She recalled her and Ronnie watching him in the movies like Friendly Persuasion and Fear Strikes Out. This made her think to ask as she looked around the empty bar. “Where is Ronnie?”

“Well, I don’t know if you’d consider this good news or bad news, but he’s in Uptown already.”

“Oh, okay.” Bernice said quietly. She sipped on her beer, trying to take it all in.

“Anyway,” Mary pointed upwards with her finger saying “The Boss thought it would be a good idea for us to have a chat first. Now, let’s get out of here.” Bernice just then noticed the doorway to the side. It was filled with a white light, a light so bright she couldn’t see anything passed the door frame. As Bernice got off the stool and stood next to Mary, Tony’s song finished on the jukebox.

I’d like a new lucky day
That would be nice
But this comes just once in a lifetime
And it doesn’t come twice

Bernice took a hesitant step toward the glowing doorway. Mary put her hand on her friend’s shoulder and assured her. “It’s a little scary at first,” Mary said, “but don’t worry. You’re a tough old broad. You’ll be fine.”

No Gein: Leftovers. Halloween H2K Chapter Five

December 27^th: 1999 Milwaukee Wisconsin

Franklin and his family went to the big city for a religious retreat; where they’d be spending New Year’s Eve singing hymns and waiting for the apocalypse, anxiously awaiting the apocalypse in Franklin’s case. Thinking back on the events of this past year, he remembered those kids in Colorado. They were doing us all a favor, taking us one more step into the fiery abyss, burning the whole world down and taking out as many worthless souls as they could. Way in the back recesses of Franklin’s mind, he wasn’t entirely sure if the world really would end in a few days. Just in case, he had one thing he wanted to do.

Sixty-Seven Wild Rose Lane, Franklin remembered where that guy from the message boards lived. He sent an email saying he’d be coming by, and the car was parked outside so Franklin knew he was home. After knocking on the door a couple times, Franklin paced back in forth in the cold. Soon, Patrick opened the door. “Hey, what’s up?” he said.

Franklin said only one thing. “Can I see it?”

“Good to see you too, dude.” Patrick laughed. “Come on in.” Entering the house, Patrick asked “How was your Christmas? Did you get lots of cool stuff?”

“Yeah, a few things.” Franklin didn’t want to reveal that his family only exchanged a few gifts this year, as his mother earnestly believed there wouldn’t be much time to enjoy Christmas presents.

Then he saw Patrick look up towards his staircase as annoyed as a female voice spoke from above. “Who is it?”

Patrick lowered his voice to say, “Just handled my business with this girl. Wait here, I’ll go get rid of her.” Patrick watched his friend ascend back up the steps. Soon he heard faint whispers from upstairs, including that incessant whining of a teenage girl which he heard all the time in school. “I guess girls in the big city bitch too,” Franklin thought to himself while looking around the living room. Hanging from the walls there were a few framed pictures of Patrick and his mother. It was a shame, his mother seemed nice. Franklin wished he would have had cool parents, but with any luck, after a few days it wouldn’t matter anymore.

Once again Franklin heard a pair of footsteps, this time they were descending. Franklin forgot about that annoying female voice when his eyes rested on her toned legs moving downward. Each step revealed more, as he soon saw her blue skirt with gold trim, and the rest of her body followed.

Patrick followed behind, or at least Franklin assumed she did. He still wasn’t looking at her face when Patrick said whatever it was her name was. “What’s up?” he heard her voice say. Franklin simply nodded and smiled; her voice no longer annoyed him.

Patrick then said, “Well, Franklin and I are gonna chill. I’ll call you later alright?”

“Awesome.” Her now cute voice replied. Her moist wet lips kissed his cheek before she gave Franklin a coy smile and walked away. Both Patrick and Franklin were now watching her legs as they walked toward the door and her body exited the house.

Franklin almost forgot why he came here as the door closed with a thud. The next sound he heard was the voice of his friend saying, “smell that,” as he put two fingers up to Franklin’s nostrils. Franklin’s head jerked back at the wet musty smell that was completely alien to him.

Patrick laughed at his reaction. “Come on man, don’t tell me your not getting any poon tang back home. You got a girl right?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure I am.” Franklin said.

Nodding his head Patrick said, “Alright, it’s cool. Let’s go upstairs.”

The two walked up the steps and into Patrick’s bedroom. It looked the same as the last time Franklin was here. His sports posters still adorned the wall and his trophy case remained intact. This hardly looked like the room of someone who’d won the Halloween H2K contest. He watched Patrick going into his closet, from which he pulled out a cardboard box. “This is it man.” Patrick said, placing the box on his bed.

Franklin was shocked. “You put it in the closet?”

“Can’t get head from the head cheerleader with this laying around my room.” he laughed while removing the lid. Franklin had no understanding of what he meant, but he approached this holy grail of horror while Patrick removed the contents.

First, Patrick pulled out a werewolf mask. “Halloween Six, Curse of the Werewolf.” Franklin said in reverence. Next, Patrick pulled out a prop ceremonial dagger, fake blood decorated its plastic blade. “Part Five, the Revenge of Samhain.”

Looking on as though witnessing an ancient archaeological dig, he heard Patrick say, “And the crown jewel.” He slowly raised the mask of the Shape, the mask of Michael Meyers, and presented it to his friend. The dead black hollow eyes of the mask stared at Franklin, who stared back in reverence.

“Can I,” Franklin nearly stammered, “can I put it on.”

“Sure, knock yourself out.” He tossed the mask to Franklin. It made a flopping sound as it landed in his hands. “I owe you one anyway.” Franklin looked down at the mask, tilting his head slightly to the left. This statement was confusing to him. When Franklin thought about all the people that owed him, Patrick was not on that list. “You helped me win that you know?” Patrick said while taking seat at his desk and booting up his computer. “I got stuck on that last code, but then I remembered what you showed me about Easter Eggs on DVDs. That’s how I found the last one.” Franklin wanted to scream, instead he pulled the mask over his face, its rubbery material covered his mouth. He could hear his own breathing as well as the sound of a lighter as Patrick lit up a cigarette. “Want one?” he asked, holding a pack in his direction.  Franklin said nothing, but the smoke from the just lit cigarette already made Franklin cough, ruining the aura of donning the mask. Stepping out of the room he heard Patrick say, “Bathroom is the last door on the left.”

Walking into the bathroom, he looked in the mirror to admire the sight of himself in the mask. The room was silent save the sound of his breathing. He could distantly hear the clacking of the keyboard. While he felt amazing with the mask on, he still felt like Franklin. Looking at the reflection of his skinny body donned in blue jeans and a red sweater, he didn’t feel like the Shape. He intended to relieve himself here, but he stopped cold in his tracks when he saw it. The used condom floating in the toilet was a reminder of what had just occurred in that bedroom. It wasn’t like he didn’t know; the scent of Patrick’s two fingers clued him in, but there floating before him was a mocking reminder of what he never had, what he never would have. Slowly turning away, he again caught his reflection in the mirror. Those dead black eyes stared back at him; his breathing echoed powerfully through the rubber surrounding his face. Now it had finally come, that secret signal had been sent to his brain, and the body standing before him was no longer Franklin, it was merely a shape.

Patrick laughed as the form of his friend stood in the doorway. “You make a good Michael Meyers.” he said sarcastically. The brain underneath that rubber mask screamed, “It’s not Michael Meyers it’s the Shape!” However, no sound emerged from the body’s mouth as it took a slow step forward. Looking back at the computer screen, it appeared Patrick was in some local chat room. “Hey, my friend Shaun is having a party tonight. Let’s check it out. They’re gonna have some wicked egg nogg.”

The body behind Patrick remained silent as the computer shut off. Patrick then stood up and faced his friend saying, “Come on, you’re not going to the party looking like that. We’ll get you some girls and you’ll forget all about this shit.”

The body before him remained motionless, making no sound except his breathing.

“Oh, so you’re Michael Meyers now. Come on let me get it back.” Patrick reached up for the mask but the body before him pushed his hands away. “What the fuck man!” Patrick pushed shoved the person before him, then got pushed back while reaching for this mask with his own hands. Patrick’s hands gripped the rubber mask; but a second pair of hands hung onto it like a petulant child. “You’re gonna rip the mask you asshole!” Patrick swung a body shot which made the shape before him recoil and release his hands. Patrick then ripped the mask off the child’s face. Franklin took a deep breath as beads of sweat fell from his cheeks to the floor.

Patrick then tossed the mask on his bed before saying, “Get the fuck out of my house!”

With all his strength and rage Franklin punched Patrick in the groin, bringing him to his knees. Still feeling the pain in his gut, Franklin knew the truth, he was no Shape. He could never take this guy in a fight. He knew there was only one chance as he reached for the thick power cord below Patrick’s desk. While Patrick’s hands still covered his groin, Franklin wrapped the cord around the teenager’s exposed neck. Patrick desperately tried to pull off, he was the stronger of the two, but Franklin wrapped the cord tightly around the boy’s throat. The victim desperately thrashed around the floor, but Franklin couldn’t let him get away. He couldn’t stand knowing someone else had gotten what was rightfully his. Not only did this boy win the prize, but he had friends, girls…sex.

His victim now had his stomach on the floor. Franklin thrust his hips forward pulling upward on the cord with all his strength. Patrick made one final thrash of his arms before the life left his body.

Rising back to his feet, Patrick looked at the Meyers mask as well as the other prizes that were now his by right of conquest. Grabbing a backpack from the closet, Franklin loaded the items into the bag, and quickly exited the house.

Running back to the Church where his family was staying, the night air chilled his lungs. If the world really was going to end in a few days, then at least he could spend his last days with the only things he loved.

Epilogue: August 25^th: 2003

Driving in his car, Franklin long forgot about how the world was supposed to end a few years back. He still felt like most of this planet wasn’t worth a damn, but that was only when he took time to think about it. A few years back, he was actually planning to follow in the footsteps of those kids in Colorado, but someone called him about a job. Before he graduated, someone recommended him to the local nursing home. Bernice and her husband lived there now, and he always got along with them. Now that he was out of school, he was working at their full time, and he kind of liked it. He was still living at home, but his dad stopped drinking, and his mom wasn’t on his case as much now that he was bringing in some income.

Also, in an amazing turn of events, things were actually a little exciting around town. A few weeks ago some remains turned up just a few miles away from where he lived. Looked like someone was trying to wipe out this boring place long before he’d thought of it. “Too bad he didn’t get them all,” he thought to himself. Driving back to work from his lunch break, the radio had the latest news. The local sheriff called a press conference, and a huge bombshell was dropped. The property on which the bodies were found was once the residence of a solitary figure by the name of Edward Gein. Apparently, around 50 years ago, Ed had murdered a local bartender, but that was not the least of his crimes. According to the sheriff, one night, almost half a century ago, the local authorities had discovered, and covered up, the fact that Ed Gein had robbed almost ten graves in the area, before dying and before his property burned to the ground.

Hearing this amazing news, Franklin felt a tingling sensation in his hands while they gripped the steering wheel. He had to pull over to the side of the road as he began hyperventilating. Hearing this news, he could never have imagined, never in his wildest dreams, that something this awesomely gruesome could occur in his own backyard. He knew right then and there this was about to become his new obsession.

Something else occurred to him. Edward Gein, he’d heard that name before, but where? Who would have possibly known him that would ever bring his name up. Looking down at his name badge for the nursing home, he thought perhaps Bernice would know something about this.

Finally catching his breath, he looked at the tree close to him on the side of the road. The branches looked oddly shaped, bending in a way he didn’t think branches could bend. A buzzard sat perched on a thick branch and glared at him with dead black eyes. There below the leaves, a man stood. Frankling hadn’t noticed him before, but he wore a red hunters cap, had a weird lopsided grin, and a saggy baggy eye.

The End

Stay tuned for Franklin’s awful exploits in the final entry of the No Gein saga,

No Gein III: The Final Cut!