C S Jones is an award winning writer from Wrexham, North Wales, who holds a prestigious 10 meter swimming certificate. Often mistaken for an escaped mental patient, he has been writing for only a short time, his recent massively inflated sense of self finally winning out over the years of overwhelming laziness. A keen horror enthusiast, he has finally decided to give back to a community that has provided so much, whether that be in his writing or general appearance. Initially a timid child, he was scared of anything and everything, including Ghostbusters 2 - insisting his parents record over it immediately. Over the coming months, he is hoping to release his first novelette. If he can make you feel even a modicum of that terror, then mission accomplished. I, I mean, he, hope's you enjoy.
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DINE DINE MY DARLING
by
C.S. Jones
Cassie—no, Cassandra; that night, she was Cassandra—emerged from the taxi. Her tight, black dress hugged her slender figure in the ethereal moonlight.
The dress always rode up, but she knew what it would do to him. She tugged it back over her thighs, leaving the tattoos of Morticia and Elvira blindfolded just how she liked it.
She sauntered to the door, taking out her crimson red lipstick—the perfect complement to the contrast of ink black hair on milky skin. Before she pressed the bell, she wiped a finger over her fangs to clear any excess lipstick.
Waiting for Bradley to answer, Cassandra ran the tips of her fingers over the outline of her underwear, enjoying the sensation. She had wanted this night for so long.
“C... Cassandra?” Bradley stood in the open doorway, his jaw hitting the floor.
Cassandra could have laughed, but knew it would ruin the moment. “Well, aren't you going to invite me in?” she said with a sly grin.
“Oh, yes, of course. Too many people going missing at the moment to be stuck outside. Please come in.”
Cassandra wouldn’t admit it, but she melted in that moment. He was as adorable as his Tinder profile made out. She was ready for the best Valentine’s night of her life. He had kids, but that was part of the appeal.
She made her way in and Bradley handed her a glass of wine. She took it, brushing a finger against his. She had never been a huge fan of wine. Still, it was best to keep up the pretence.
A thud came from somewhere in the house.
Bradley smiled. “Children of the night. They won't interrupt.”
Soon, they were sat for dinner, a candle illuminating the space between them.
“Is spaghetti alright?” asked Bradley. “I know it can be a bit messy.”
“Perhaps I like messy?” said Cassandra with a wink.
Bradley blushed. “Oh, bread?”
“Not garlic, I hope?”
They both laughed.
For the next few moments, the only noises were the clinking of cutlery and slurping of spaghetti.
“I'm sorry,” said Cassandra. “These things are a pain to eat with.” She pulled the two fangs from her mouth and placed them down. “I know I said I was into all this, but a girl’s gotta eat.”
Smitten, Bradley didn't say a word; he just smiled a doting, dopey smile. She was exactly the girl he'd been after.
After the meal, they moved to the living room, a second bottle already worse for wear. It didn’t take long for their bodies to find each other, having inched ever closer, their conversations almost drowned out by their heartbeats.
At the wine’s insistence, they gave in to their desires and kissed. Finally surfacing for air, Bradley suggested a film. Dracula.
“What if your kids get up?” Cassandra asked, her doe eyes meeting his soulful blue.
“Won't be a problem. They pretty much take care of themselves.”
They hadn't intended to really watch the film, but found themselves drawn in, entwined in one another, Bradley's finger stroking Cassandra's clavicle. Just as Gary Oldman transformed into a wolf, Cassandra cursed her tiny bladder and headed for the bathroom.
All done, she flushed and rearranged her push-up bra. Despite age and gravity colluding against her, she still had a figure to die for. She fantasised about a future with Bradley, the two of them and his... how many kids did he have? Had he said? She would have to ask him.
Out of habit, she checked her phone.
Three Tinder messages.
She went to swipe them away, but realised the sender—BradleyLestat69. Confused, she opened them.
Please help. He's not who you think!
We're not his kids. He trapped us in the cellar.
We got his phone. Please let us out!
Cassandra couldn't move. The thought of his touch suddenly made her skin crawl. Wait, maybe it’s a prank. She wanted to ask him, but something was bothering her: no photos. There hadn't been a single picture of his kids. Any loving father would surely-
Bang. Bang.
“Cassandra? Are you alright?”
Cassandra dropped her phone in the toilet. “Shit.”
He banged again. “Do you need anything?... Hello?”
“I’ll be right out. Can I have a glass of water, though?”
She heard his footsteps grow faint.
Light tapping came from the floor beneath.
They were down there.
Cassandra considered her options. She could run for the street and scream until she was blue in the face, but he'd catch her. He looked like he worked out and she'd never stand a chance in her heels.
She decided to open the cellar. They could run for it. He'd never catch them all.
Gingerly, she opened the bathroom door, praying it wouldn't creak. Would he be there? She imagined him holding a stake, a ridiculous notion given the situation.
The corridor was empty, eerily so. She spotted another door and snuck over. The cellar. Only a latch kept it shut. She reached—
Smash
Bradley stood over his dropped glass. “Please don't.”
Cassandra was crying by now, her Valentine a menacing blur, “You monster! Keeping children down there!” She turned to the latch.
“Please, you don't under—”
Cassandra swung the door open.
Darkness seeped out, giving way to gaggles of excited laughter. Figures emerged around the stairwell. Little child-like creatures crawled along the walls and ceiling, grinning at Cassandra with blackened eyes and jagged teeth.
Before she could turn, one leapt and tore her throat out with a single bite. The others cackled and joined in, mauling her as she fell to the floor. Biting. Chewing. Sucking. They feasted on her thrashing body.
“No!” cried Bradley. “She wasn't for you! I cared about her.”
One of the children reared its head, its nose dripping with blood, “You familiars are all the same. Always wanting what's ours. She was a joke to our kind. Now be gone.”
Teary eyed, Bradley turned away as they dragged her beautiful carcass into the shadows.