A horror fan since childhood, a geek by nature, and a jokester by heart, Ian believes entertainment, no matter what form it takes, combined with laughter, is the best medicine to combat life's challenges. His favourite movies amongst many others are Aliens, The Thing, LOTR, and Star Wars.
He is currently celebrating being accepted as part of the Anthology, "Invasion Of The Saucer-Men from Mars" from Specul8 Publishing to be released this July in time for World UFO Day.
He is a father and is currently living in Melbourne, Australia with his partner, son, two stepdaughters, and 4 cats, which is enough of a horror story on its own.
You can follow his exploits on Facebook at Ian Gielen - Author
VALENTINE’S FLAY
by
Ian Gielen
As they entered the store, the sound of tinkling bells filled the air, soon accompanied by a cheerful “Welcome to Whips and Whims.”
A man with bleached blonde hair, his appearance suggesting his age was in his mid-30s, approached them from behind the counter, his nametag ‘Marque de Sade (Mark)’ displayed prominently on his breast.
Dressed in what looked like a colonial outfit, his infectious smile put the pair at ease.
“Oh, um, hi,” Alice stammered, taken aback by the man’s eccentric attire.
“So, let me guess,” he said with a disarming smile, “Today is Valentine’s Day and you’re looking for something to spice up the bedroom tonight. Am I right?” Alice noticed a fleeting hint of artificiality in his eyes as his smile grew wider, but it rapidly vanished, leaving behind the same genuine smile he had first shown them.
With a smirk and a wink directed at Alice, Ethan replied, “Yeah, something like that.”
Alice blushed briefly before turning to scan the shop. The interior design was antiquated, with aged, unstable wooden shelves along the walls and haphazardly arranged rows in the center. The selection was uninteresting, consisting of outdated sex toys that were marked up from their original prices when they were first introduced years ago. Neglected and coated in dust, the shelves gave the impression of being untouched since the store opened.
“Babe, I think we should get out of here. This place looks like it hasn’t seen business since the 80s at least,” she whispered, keeping her voice low so only Ethan could hear.
Her eyes met Mark’s. His face was a blank canvas, his eyes appearing distant yet peculiarly fixed on her. Shivering, she discretely tugged at Ethan’s arm.
“Come on, let’s go,” she urged, her gentle pulling becoming more urgent.
“Wait,” Ethan said, his eyes fixated on something on the wall above the shelf in a dimly lit corner of the store.
“What’s this?” he asked, as he weaved between the rows of shelving, heading toward the object.
“Ah, today is your lucky day. It just so happens that I’ve put this on sale for today only. A happy coincidence, don’t you think?” he said, beaming broadly at the pair, giving Ethan a wink.
Ethan gazed upward at it. The wall above the shelf showcased an impressive assortment of whips, each varying in shape and size. Ethan’s eyes were drawn to one whip in particular, its garish display boasting “Marquis de Sade’s Whip - $200” above it.
The ancient whip, a Cat-o’-nine-tails, had a weathered appearance with its rope base and nine smaller knotted cords. The cords, made from thinner rope or cotton, looked brittle and ready to crumble at the slightest touch.
“How much is the discount?” Ethan asked, curious.
“Fifty percent off. It’s yours for $100, a small price to pay for such a precious and rare item. Plus, you’ll actually get to use the exact whip that the Maquis used.”
“Sold,” Ethan said, eyes still focused on the whip.
“Ethan, really? No,” Alice said in annoyance.
“You really think that thing would hold together? It’s nothing but an expensive fake, a rip-off.”
“Oh, I assure you, it’s real,” Mark said, grabbing the whip and ringing it up on the vintage cash register. As Ethan paid, Alice stormed out of the store, shooting Mark a withering glare before she left.
#
After enjoying an expensive dinner and a few glasses of red wine, Alice’s mood had shifted from anger to begrudging amusement at his odd purchase. Before long, they found themselves back in their hotel room, their stomachs satisfied and their minds pleasantly buzzing from the wine.
Locking the door behind him, Ethan turned toward Alice, brandishing his new whip.
“So,” he said with a wicked smile, “How about we give this thing some flesh?”
“Eww, Ethan, is that meant to be sexy?” Alice said, screwing up her face in amused disgust.
“How about you take your clothes off and find out?” he said, his eyes taking on an abnormally intense expression.
“Okay,” Alice said involuntarily, her arms instinctively lifting her top over her head and pulling down her jeans.
“Wait,” she said, her face contorted with confusion, “What’s happening to me?” Continuing with her actions, she slid her panties down and unhooked her bra, both garments landing on the floor with a soft thud as she stood there naked.
“Now turn around and bend over,” Ethan’s voice lacked emotion as he coldly instructed Alice, his eyes locked onto her every move.
“Ethan, what’s happening? I can’t control my body,” she cried out in panic.
There was no response from Ethan, his arm poised in the air, wielding the whip that descended upon her again and again. The echoes of her agonized screams filled the hotel room, mingling with the splashes of her blood staining the walls.
The whip, stained with blood, finally fell from his hand and rolled to the floor, coming to rest next to the pitiful, bloody mess that Alice had become. With a weak grasp, she held onto it and rose unsteadily, her eyes filled with an otherworldly shine.
“Now it’s my turn,” she whispered weakly, her trembling fingers gripping the whip securely as she succumbed to its power, ruthlessly flaying Ethan and adding his bloodied flesh to the scattered remnants of her own.
The whip slipped from her lifeless grasp as she and the whip collided with the ground, just as the hotel room door creaked open, casting a shadow over the two motionless figures on the floor.
With a sigh, the figure weaved its way through the blood-spattered room and stood over the drenched whip. “Ah, there you are,” it said, bending over to pick it up. Whistling cheerfully, the figure exited the room, lightly closing the door as the soft moonlight filtered through the window, casting a faint glow on the abandoned blood-smeared nametag that lay on the floor, the name ‘Mark’ the only word left visible.