The Bullet

πŸ“… Published on April 6, 2022

β€œThe Bullet”

Written by J.C. Fields
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

⏰ ESTIMATED READING TIME β€” 22 minutes

Rating: 10.00/10. From 1 vote.
Please wait...

Shorty Small, a man neither short nor small, sat with his back against a wall in a dingy bar several blocks off Bourbon Street. He concentrated on the front door and sipped on a half-consumed bottle of Nola Blonde Ale.

The din of Mardi Gras could be heard in the distance outside the establishment. The comings and goings of revelers kept the door he watched constantly opening and closing. Finally, at ten minutes past eleven p.m., Homer LaCroix rushed through the entrance.

Six-foot-five, rail-thin, hawk nose and long curly salt and pepper hair, the man scanned the occupants of the room. His eyes settled on Small, and he made a bee-line toward the table.

Small growled, β€œYou’re late.”

The lanky man shrugged.

β€œSo, what was such an emergency you dragged me all the way from Chicago to New Orleans?”

β€œGot a job for ya, Shorty.”

β€œWhat kind of job?”

He fished an object out of his jeans and placed it on the table.

Small stared at the item and then locked eyes with the man. β€œWhat the…”

β€œIt’s a silver bullet.”

β€œI can see that. Like I told you on the phone, I don’t do that anymore.”

β€œI know what you said, but for fifty-K, I figured you’d at least think about it.”

Small’s attention bounced from Homer to the bullet and then back at the tall man. β€œFifty-K, uh?”

β€œYeah. Fifty-K.”

β€œDamn.” He picked up the silver bullet and studied it closer.

β€œAt one time, you were the best hatchet man in the business.”

The comment went ignored as Small continued to examine the bullet. Finally, he said, β€œI’m not saying I will, but what do I have to do for fifty-K?”

Homer pointed toward the object. β€œUse that.”

β€œI knew that, asshole. Who’s the mark?”

β€œA witch.”

With a slow shake of his head, Small stood. β€œI ain’t getting mixed up with that kind of nonsense, Homer. Thanks for wasting my time.”

β€œHear me out. It’s not what you think.”

The former hitman hesitated. With a long glare at his old acquaintance, he returned to his seat. β€œTen minutes, then I’m outta here.”

Homer leaned over the table and whispered. β€œVoodoo in New Orleans is big business. It draws more tourists than Mardi Gras. Plus, it keeps those famous, fancy restaurants from goin’ bankrupt.”

β€œYou’re down to nine minutes.”

β€œDo you know much about Voodoo and witches?”

A shake of Small’s shaggy head was the answer.

β€œVoodoo is basically a religion brought over during the slave trade from South Africa. Those enslaved persons brought their culture from Bambara, which is now Mali, and the Kingdom of Kongo, roughly where Angola is today.”

β€œYour point, Homer?”

β€œBear with me, Shorty. These slaves were brought over to the French colony of Louisiana. This all started in the early 18th Century. The white settlers of French Louisiana were heavily Roman Catholic. During this time the area transitioned from French to Spanish control, back to France and then after the Louisiana Purchase, the United States. During all these changes, the two religions syncretized.”

Small frowned. β€œHuh?”

β€œSyncretized. It means the two religions attempted to reconcile and combine with each other.”

β€œOkay.”

β€œThe melting pot of Louisiana transformed the African traditions into what is now known as Louisiana Voodoo. Most people think of it as a religion practiced in secret.”

β€œI thought Voodoo was about sticking a pin in a doll.”

LaCroix smiled. β€œOne of the myths of the religion. However, ancestors and spirit guides are essential parts of Voodoo as are spells and incantations. Voodoo Queens are female religious leaders who offer guidance to believers with problems and sickness using charms, herbs and prayers. They use ritualistic dances, songs, incantations and beseech ancestors to ease the practitioner’s particular affliction. No one has ever told me this, but I think that’s why people started calling the Voodoo Queens witches.”

β€œHomer, this is all fascinating, but you’re down to four minutes to sell me on this cockamamie story of yours.”

β€œShorty, my whole point boils down to this. Voodoo tourism is big business here in New Orleans. Millions of tourist dollars flow into the city coffers. Someone is trying to screw up the fun nature of Voodoo by scaring potential tourists away.”

Small tilted his head. β€œOkay, I just added a few minutes to your timetable. There’s money involved.”

β€œBig money, Shorty.” He paused and smiled. β€œThose who are the so-called β€˜keepers of the faith’ are scared.”

β€œWhy?”

β€œThey believe a real witch is seeking revenge on the ancestors of those who persecuted her in the mid-20th Century.”

β€œYou’re kidding.”

β€œNo, that’s why they gave me a silver bullet to be used. It’s the only thing that’ll kill a real witch and cleanse the earth of her presence.”

Rolling his eyes, the big man shook his head. β€œHomer, someone is pulling your leg. There’s no such thing as a real witch. There might be a few poor wretched souls who believe they are witches, but they’re not.”

LaCroix leaned over the table. β€œWho cares if the witch is real. Our employer believes she is and is willing to pay someone fifty-K to use this silver bullet to make it go away. That someone can be you.”

β€œWhat’s your cut?”

β€œI do this out of the goodness of my heart.”

β€œBullshit. Your heart is as black as mine.”

β€œI’m being paid as a consultant. It’s separate from the fifty-K.”

β€œDo they know where this witch is?”

β€œNo.”

With a chuckle, Small sat back in his chair and drained his beer. β€œThen how do they know it’s a witch?”

Reaching into his pocket, LaCroix pulled out what looked to be a folded playing card. He opened and laid it on the table. β€œThis is one of the five Tarot cards found on the desks of each member of the tourism board. No one knows how they got there, and security cameras show they suddenly appeared around midnight.”

Small picked up the object and studied it. β€œA tower with lightning striking it and two dudes falling. So?”

β€œThe Tower is one of the more foreboding cards in the Tarot deck. It means there will be upheaval or change coming.”

Rolling his eyes again, Small handed the card back to LaCroix. β€œI can’t believe people fall for this crap. Especially enough to spend fifty-K to stop it.”

β€œYou would if you knew how much money the haunted house tours brings in. That’s not the only card they’ve received. Everyone on the tourism board has also received the death card in the mail. They think it symbolizes the end of the tourist trade. They are quite literally pissing their pants.”

β€œThis seems to be something the police would need to investigate.”

β€œOne would think so, but the police told them until some crime is actually committed, they aren’t interested. Which brings us to the need for someone else to take care of the problem. Thus, the fifty-K and you.”

Small studied the bullet again then the Tarot card. β€œI’ll need more than one bullet.”

LaCroix nodded.

* * * * * *

When Shorty Small exited his hotel early the next morning. He planned to walk the streets of the French Quarter and get a feel for the area. His journey took him to Toulouse Street where he turned left. At the intersection with Bourbon Street, he made a right. This early in the morning he saw street cleaners hosing off the puke left behind by the previous evening’s Mardi Gras participants, along with food and drink suppliers delivering product to the restaurants and bars scattered along the famous street. Making another right at Phillips Street he looked back and noticed a woman a block behind him staring intently in his direction.

Over the course of his career, as a man who handled personnel problems with a gun, his radar pinged when he saw her. Quickening his pace, he ducked into an open coffee shop. He waited for the woman to pass, but after ten minutes, he still had not seen her. Silently chastising himself for his runaway paranoia, he ordered a coffee to go and continued his tour of the French Quarter.

Turning right on Chartres Street he reached Jackson Square and sat across from St. Louis Cathedral on a park bench. He planned to enjoy his coffee and watch the pedestrian traffic mill about.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman who followed him on Bourbon Street. He paid no obvious attention to her but kept her in his peripheral vision. She remained still while he pretended to study the men, women and children roaming the area. The distance to her location at the corner of Chartres Street and St. Ann would prevent him from catching up to her. She would have plenty of time to disappear into any local business and elude him.

Standing, he found a trash receptacle to deposit his now empty coffee cup. When he looked toward the position where she last stood, the space was empty.

With a frown, he jogged toward the corner and glanced up and down St. Ann Street. He saw her a block to the northwest. As he started to follow, she disappeared. He stopped. Stood without moving for a few moments and then hurried to where he last saw her.

When he arrived, there were no doors, alleys or alcoves. She had simply vanished. Turning back to return to the park bench, a black cat scurried across the street in front of him.

* * * * * *

LaCroix chuckled as Small retold the events of his morning tour in the French Quarter. β€œI told you she was a witch.”

β€œWitches do not exist, Homer.”

The thin man pushed a box of 9mm ammunition across the table. β€œYou asked for more silver bullets. There are twenty-five in there with the remaining one’s hollow point.”

Small put his hand on the box and slipped it under the table. β€œThanks.”

β€œThey do exist. The one spying on you may be the one causing all the trouble. Be careful out there, Shorty.”

β€œWe’ll see if I see her tomorrow.” He paused. β€œAnything happen yesterday I should know about?”

A slow nod from LaCroix. β€œThey aren’t sure it’s related, but one of the board members of the tourism board died of a heart attack last night.”

β€œLet me guess, he was seen with a woman beforehand.”

β€œHow’d you guess?”

β€œI was joking. What’d this woman look like?”

β€œBlonde, mid-forties, average height, and I’m told a real looker.”

Small stared at LaCroix for over thirty seconds. β€œThat’s how I would describe the woman who followed me yesterday.”

β€œWell, there ya go, Shorty. I’d load your gun with the silver bullets immediately.”

β€œOkay, I’ll take the job. Did you tell them I get half up-front?”

β€œI did.”

β€œWhere is it?”

A plain, white business envelope appeared on the table. β€œThere’s thirty-K in there. With the death of McAlister, they upped the fee to sixty.”

The envelope disappeared just like the box of ammo. Small narrowed his eyes. β€œHow’d you know I’d take the job?”

LaCroix shrugged. β€œAfter seeing the look in your eyes, the other day, I figured you’d take the job.” He stood. β€œIf I were you, I’d brush up on the history of the French Quarter. It might keep you alive.” With those words, he walked out of the bar.

Small muttered to himself. β€œWay ahead of you on that one, Homer.”

* * * * * *

Located on the southern edge of the French Quarter on Decatur Street, Small’s hotel ranked high on the list of best hotels in New Orleans. Close to restaurants and all the cultural offerings of this section of town, it lay only a block from a jewelry, gemstones and minerals shop that also offered psychic readings. During his walking trip on the first day, he wandered into the shop and struck up a conversation with the owner.

She turned out to be, not only knowledgeable on local history, but up to date on all the happenings within the local religious community, mainly Voodoo.

After his meeting with LaCroix, he waited around until eight p.m. when the small shop closed. Madame Claire HonorΓ© greeted him as he walked into the store. β€œAh, Monsieur Small, I am so happy you are here. I have one customer left and then we can talk.”

She hurried away while Shorty examined a display case with numerous gemstones. He heard the little bell above the door jingle and then she returned. β€œI did not know if you would keep our appointment.”

β€œI have lots of questions, Madame HonorΓ©.”

β€œPlease call me, Claire.”

He folded his arms and appraised the woman. She appeared to be in her mid-to-late forties, long brown hair with a silver streak prominent on one side, hazel eyes, and a smile he found inviting. β€œI’m Shorty.”

She looked him up and down. β€œYou are most definitely not short.”

He shrugged. β€œIt’s my name.”

Taking his arm, she guided him to a room in the back. β€œThis is where we do our psychic readings. We use Tarot cards or read palms.”

He glanced at her. β€œDo you believe in that sort of stuff?”

Offering the sly smile he enjoyed, she grinned. β€œI don’t have to believe. I just have to sell it.”

He chuckled. β€œTell me about witches.”

β€œWhat kind? The chamber of commerce kind, the New Orleans kind, or the ones no one should mess with kind?”

Small tilted his head. β€œLet’s start with the kind no one should mess with.”

β€œThat could take a while, you buying me dinner?”

He pointed to a ring on her left hand. β€œWhat about your husband?”

She patted his arm as she guided him toward the store’s front door. β€œHe’s been gone for ten years. I use the ring to keep the vultures away.”

β€œThen, I’m buying dinner. Know a good place?”

* * * * * *

At breakfast the next morning in the hotel cafe, Claire HonorΓ© finally got around to explaining more about New Orleans and witches. β€œShorty, this lovely city has a long history of Voodoo, witches, the occult and various other traditions passed down from the past inhabitants of the area. Most of it is harmless and helps support the local economy.”

β€œThat’s what I’ve been told.”

She held her coffee cup with both hands. β€œHowever, there is a dark side.”

He remained quiet as he kept his gaze on her.

She continued. β€œMost witches are benevolent. Some truly believe they are witches, while others are hustlers and scam artists.” After another sip of coffee, she looked up at him. β€œThe real witches are agents of the devil and will steal your soul. It is said they can take the shape of anything or any person.”

β€œHow do you tell if a witch has taken a new shape? Will it cackle like the ones in The Wizard of Oz?”

The sly smile returned as Claire shook her head. β€œNo. It is their eyes. The eyes will be a black pool. Bottomless and enticing. It is the eyes that suck the soul from her victim’s body.”

β€œAre there any real witches here in New Orleans?”

β€œThere have been many over the years. Not so much recently, but now…”

β€œWhat does that mean?”

β€œI am hearing rumors one has returned. Returned to seek vengeance on those that make a mockery of the ancient traditions.”

β€œDo you believe it?”

She sipped her coffee and then studied the contents. β€œIt is inevitable. We have strayed from the real purpose of Voodoo. It came about in this area to ease the burdens of the early slaves who toiled to make their masters rich. Now, those traditions have once again morphed into a system that exploits the workers and favors only a few rich men.”

β€œSo, you think she has returned to do good?”

Claire shrugged. β€œIt depends on your definition of good.” She paused. β€œBut no, I don’t believe she has returned to do anything positive. I feel she has arrived to threaten the livelihood of those who make their living here in the French Quarter.”

β€œDoes that include you?”

She sipped her coffee and then nodded.

β€œWhat can stop her?”

With a chuckle, the store owner said, β€œTwo things. Fire or a silver bullet through her black heart.” After another sip of coffee, she stared at Small. β€œWhy are you so interested?”

β€œI’m curious, that’s all.”

β€œShorty Small, somehow I doubt that. I saw your palm last night. You are here for a specific reason.”

β€œYes.”

β€œBut you will not tell me.”

β€œNot right now, someday, maybe.”

* * * * * *

After Claire HonorΓ© returned to her apartment above the store to freshen up before she opened the shop at eleven a.m., Small returned to his room in the hotel. His doubts about a real witch returning to New Orleans seeking revenge remained in place. However, after listening to Claire at dinner last night and then again during breakfast, he retrieved the box of ammunition given to him by LaCroix and loaded a magazine with silver bullets.

As he pressed the shiny objects into the black metal sleeve, he mumbled to himself. β€œBetter to be prepared.” Once he completed this chore, he returned the weapon to the inside-the-pants holster at his waist.

At exactly noon, he walked northeast on Decatur Street until he arrived at Jackson Square. Taking the same park bench where he sat two days earlier, he watched the pedestrians and waited. Time passed slowly, but forty minutes later, a tall lanky man sat at the opposite end of the bench and said, β€œAny luck finding her?”

β€œNo.”

β€œHave you tried?”

β€œI know more today than I did yesterday.”

β€œAnd that means?”

β€œI’m working on it, asshole. You haven’t exactly been a fountain of information.”

β€œMore Tarot cards were found stuck to doors this morning.”

β€œWhich cards?”

β€œMostly The Tower card. One Death card.”

β€œWho got that one?”

β€œIt was on the mausoleum where the Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau is buried.”

β€œSounds like the card’s a little late.”

β€œFunny, Shorty. The problem is the cemetery is closed to the public due to all the years of vandalism. The only way to access the grave site is during an official tour with a licensed tour guide.”

β€œOkay, they slipped in after dark.”

LaCroix shook his head. β€œMotion detectors and security cameras protect the property at night. The card was found this morning by a maintenance man. Just like the cards appearing on the desks, nothing showed up on the security cameras.”

β€œSo, what does the death card on a grave mean?”

β€œI’m no expert, but I’m told it means a life-altering change is coming.”

Small laughed. β€œTo a grave?”

β€œNo. The person who spoke to me believes this is a sign the future of the French Quarter is in jeopardy. They want you to hurry and fulfill your assignment.”

Standing, the hitman looked down at his bench companion. β€œI’ll check out the cemetery. In the meantime, tell your bosses, I make the schedule when the job is completed. No one else. If they push me, the contract will be null and void. Down payment is non-refundable. But you knew that, didn’t you, Homer?”

A nod was his answer.

* * * * * *

The guided tour of the Saint Louis Cemetery No. 1, where the mausoleum of Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau resided, lasted an hour, concluding at half-past five in the afternoon. Small paid little attention to the tour guide as he used the time to locate the security cameras throughout the grounds. As an expert in avoiding such devices, he concluded no one would be able to get near Marie Laveau’s final resting place without being seen by no less than four cameras.

With a growing realization he might be in over his head on this assignment, he walked back toward his hotel, making a stop at Claire Honoré’s Gem store. When he approached the small shop, the front door stood ajar. Looking in, he saw nothing but chaos, smashed display cases, overturned shelving units and broken glass mixed with necklaces and bracelets covering the floor.

Small yelled, β€œClaire!” When he received no answer, he yelled it again.

He heard a faint voice say, β€œIn the back. Watch out for broken glass.”

Making his way toward the rear portion of the store, he found the proprietor in the room where psychic readings took place. Zip ties held her legs and wrists to a captain’s chair. She looked up at him. β€œIt’s a mess out there, isn’t it?”

Hurrying to her, he used a pocketknife to cut her bindings. She stood and hugged him. β€œThanks. You’re the first person to come by since this happened.”

β€œWho…”

β€œNever seen her before. Blonde, mid-forties, average height, and very pretty. I didn’t hear the bell on the door. It tells me when someone enters the shop. I was redoing a display. When I turned, there she stood, next to me. She scared me, Shorty.”

β€œHer?”

β€œThe one we talked about this morning. The eyes. They were black as coal and her breath smelled of Sulphur.”

β€œWhat did she say?”

β€œShe didn’t. Just swept her arms around in the air and all the damage you see out there occurred. She pushed me into this room and that’s all I remember until I heard you calling my name.”

β€œWhere’s your front door key?”

She pulled a set out of one of her jeans pockets and handed it to him. When he returned, he said, β€œYou need to call the police.”

She shook her head. β€œWon’t do any good. They won’t believe me.”

β€œJust tell them a bunch of druggies broke in and did it. That way the insurance company will have a police report to work with.”

She tilted her head to the side. β€œI’m impressed, Mr. Small. Are you a former cop?”

β€œNo. But I’ve dealt with the police before. They’ll buy the story about a break-in.”

Claire folded her arms. β€œShe knows I spoke to you last night.”

β€œWho knows?”

β€œThe witch you’re chasing.”

β€œHard to chase someone you’ve never seen.”

β€œFigure of speech, Shorty.”

β€œI know. You sure she just waved her arms?”

β€œPositive.”

Small looked at all the damage. β€œCall the police, I’ll stick around and make sure they take you seriously.”

* * * * * *

After the police finished taking pictures and asking questions, they left and Small escorted Claire up the back staircase to her apartment. Nothing seemed out of place. He said, β€œMake sure nothing is missing.”

She glanced at him. β€œWhat do you mean?”

β€œMake sure she didn’t come up here and take something personal.”

β€œLike what?”

β€œI don’t know. A hairbrush or something like that.”

With a frown, Claire walked toward a closed door and entered the room. She reemerged holding a brown object. β€œHere’s my brush.”

β€œGood, look for anything you’ve used personally.”

She tapped her foot. β€œAre you telling me you believe she’s a witch?”

β€œI’m not saying anything. Just look for something personal missing.”

She went through another door into what Small could see contained a bed. Ten minutes later, she emerged, her eyes wide. β€œShorty, your t-shirt I wore home last night is missing.”

* * * * * *

The stillness on the streets of the French Quarter seemed out of place as Small returned to his hotel room just before dawn the next morning. When he entered his room, he half expected it to be trashed like Claire’s small store. However, nothing seemed out of place.

After placing a Do Not Disturb sign on his hotel room doorknob, he stripped and took a long hot shower. Emerging minutes later, a towel wrapped around his waist, he stopped suddenly at the sight of a blonde woman standing in the middle of his hotel room.

Her eyes appraised him. β€œMonsieur Small, why do you seek me out?”

β€œYou’ve caught me at a disadvantage, I don’t know your name.”

β€œBecause I did not give it to you.” Her accent was French, the voice slightly hoarse. β€œNow, why do you seek me out?”

β€œI’ve been offered a contract to find you.”

β€œAnd kill me?”

He shrugged. β€œI haven’t yet, have I?”

β€œNo.” She tilted her head and walked toward the door. β€œYou have no idea of what you are involved with.”

β€œCare to enlighten me?”

Her hand touched the doorknob and she turned to look at him. β€œNo, you need to discover it yourself. What you find could shake the very foundation of who you believe yourself to be.”

With a smile, she dissolved into a blue mist. It rose and disappeared into the air vent above the door. The tightness in his stomach caused him to hurry to the closet. He checked his Glock 19. It remained where he left it before his shower. Taking the weapon from the holster, he ejected the magazine and checked the number of rounds. None were missing. He carried it back to the bathroom.

* * * * * *

β€œWho the hell sent you to hire me, Homer?”

LaCroix raised his hands, palms toward the man sitting across from him. β€œEasy, Shorty. What happened?”

β€œA blonde bitch with black eyes is what happened.”

Raising his eyebrows, the skinny man lowered his hands. β€œYou saw her?”

β€œIn the middle of my hotel room. She was there, then she wasn’t.”

β€œWhat do you mean?”

β€œShe was there, then, poof, she wasn’t.”

β€œDid she call you by name?”

β€œYes.”

β€œDamn.”

β€œWho is she?”

Closing his eyes, LaCroix scowled. β€œShe knows why you’re here.”

β€œObviously.” He folded his arms.

β€œWhen she disappeared on the street the other day, did you see anything strange?”

β€œNo, just a black cat.”

β€œOh, dear.”

β€œWhat the hell does that mean?”

β€œNot a good sign.”

β€œI’ll be leaving today. I told you I was done with the business. You’ve successfully convinced me I should have stayed retired.”

β€œYou can’t.”

β€œI can.”

β€œThey’ll want their money back.”

β€œLike I told you, Homer. No refunds. Besides, I have expenses.”

LaCroix examined the hitman. β€œDid she scare you?”

Small stared at the thin man. β€œScare, no. Convince me you haven’t been telling me the truth, yes.”

β€œThey’ll send someone to collect.”

β€œLaCroix, you haven’t been listening, have you? No refunds.”

β€œThe next messenger won’t be as easy to get along with.”

β€œI can be the same way. Remember?”

The thin man nodded. β€œThey don’t like people who fail at assignments.”

β€œWhat’s that mean?”

β€œProbably the last time you’ll see me.”

β€œGood, I didn’t want to see you this time.”

β€œNo, I mean I’ll be taken into the swamp and fed to the gators. No one will find a body.”

Small rolled his eyes. β€œReally, Homer? You’re giving me a sob story?”

β€œIt’s not a sob story. It’s a fact and will happen.”

Small took a calming breath. β€œWell, we can’t have that.” He narrowed his eyes. β€œDon’t you think it’s time you told me the truth?”

β€œI did.” He paused for a second. β€œI might have left out a few details, but the people who hired me are really scared about the appearance of a new witch.”

β€œWhat’d you leave out?”

Taking a deep breath, LaCroix let it out slowly. β€œIt all has to do with money.”

β€œIt always does.”

β€œYeah, but I’m talking millions of dollars.”

Small glared at his friend.

β€œThe powers that be like the way the current system works. The tourist industry generates revenue for the area, and each of the businesses within the French Quarter pays their fair share to the tourist board.”

β€œVoluntarily or is there an enforcement squad?”

β€œUhβ€”the latter.”

β€œThought so. And some of the local businesses don’t like it.”

With a nod, LaCroix continued. β€œThe tourism board got greedy and raised the percentage businesses have to pay a year ago. A lot of the business owners banded together and found a way to fight it.”

β€œA witch?”

β€œYeah, they used black magic and conjured up a witch.”

Small laughed out loud and shook his head. β€œYou don’t need me, Homer. All of you need a trip to the psych ward. You’re all crazy.”

β€œThat’s why they had the silver bullets made. You’ve seen her disappear. You know she’s real.”

β€œI don’t know how she did it, but it’s not black magic. There’s no such thing.”

The thin man shrugged. β€œOthers think different.”

β€œI’ll prove it by finding her. I’ll prove she’s a fake and you guys can pay me the rest of the money.”

β€œThey just want her gone.”

* * * * * *

After his meeting with LaCroix, Small stopped by Claire’s shop to see if she needed any help cleaning up the small store. When he arrived, he saw the sign indicating the shop would be closed for remodeling. He tried the doorknob and found it open. Stepping in, he discovered the shop in the same state of chaos as the night before. β€œClaire?” He waited. No response. Stepping in, he called her name again. β€œClaire?” Still silence.

He climbed the stairs in the back toward the apartment and knocked on the door. No response. Taking a slim tool out of his billfold, he unlocked the door and stepped in. β€œClaire, it’s Shorty.”

Silence.

With his concern growing, he took the stairs back down two at a time and hurried to the sΓ©ance room. Empty.

He turned toward the front door and saw the blonde woman. He said, β€œWhat have you done with Claire?”

β€œShe’s gone.”

β€œI can see that. Where?”

β€œAway.”

Small withdrew the Glock from his concealed holster and pointed it at the specter. β€œI don’t know who you are, and quite frankly, don’t care. I do care about Claire. Now, where is she?”

The woman fixed her coal-black eyes on Small. β€œShe’s where you’ll never find her.”

β€œMy patience has limits, lady.”

β€œYou shoot me with a silver bullet, and you’ll never find her.”

β€œSounds like we have a stalemate.”

β€œYes.”

β€œYou first.”

β€œLeave New Orleans and Madame HonorΓ© will be free.”

β€œI have a counter proposal for you, let her go and I won’t shoot you.”

The response from the blonde woman surprised Small. She cackled like a witch from a Hollywood movie.

He shook his head and leveled the gun at her heart. β€œWas that supposed to scare me?”

She frowned and backed up toward the front door. Slowly at first, she quickened her pace and said, β€œThe one you seek. Is unconscious and weak. Find her you must. Before the end of dusk.” Just as she reached it, the door opened by itself. Emitting another cackle, she stepped onto the sidewalk and vanished.

β€œDamn.” Small ran to the still open door and stepped outside the shop. He looked up and down Chartres Street, the woman was nowhere to be seen. He turned to look at the building and noticed another floor above Claire’s apartment. Dashing back into the shop, he took the stairs two at a time to her apartment. Inside, he hurried from one room to the next. When he entered the kitchen, he noticed a door on the far side of the room.

* * * * * *

Claire was indeed unconscious and unresponsive. The Paramedics loaded her into the ambulance and within seconds, the siren spooled up as it accelerated south toward Decatur Street.

He turned to a police officer, who had responded along with the ambulance to his 911 call, and asked, β€œWhere are they taking her?”

β€œUniversity Medical Center, it’s over on Canal Street.”

Small nodded.

The officer looked around the shop. β€œYou were here yesterday, weren’t you?”

β€œYes.”

β€œWant to tell me why you’re here again?”

β€œI came by to see if she needed help cleaning up.”

β€œDoesn’t look like she got much done. When did you last see her?”

Small turned his attention to the policeman. β€œWhen I left.”

The officer’s hand slowly moved toward his service weapon.

Noting the cop moving his hand. Small said, β€œAfter you guys left last night, I made sure she was okay before leaving. I made her some tea and stayed with her until she fell asleep. It was somewhere around four in the morning.”

His hand returned to a neutral position. β€œYou from around here?”

β€œNo, I’m here on business.”

β€œWant to tell me more about this blonde woman you mentioned?”

Small debated with himself about how much to tell the officer. Finally, he said, β€œNot much to tell. When I first got here, the place was empty. I went up and checked Claire’s apartment. I didn’t know about the third floor at that time. When I came back down, she was standing in the middle of the shop.”

β€œDid she tell you were Ms. HonorΓ© was?”

β€œYes.”

β€œSo, you think she’s the one who assaulted her?”

β€œYes.”

The officer nodded. β€œWhere are you staying?”

He gave the cop his hotel’s address and told him where he lived in Chicago. After the man left, he locked the front door to the shop and started walking toward the hospital.

* * * * * *

Small stood at the side of Claire’s hospital bed and looked down at her.

She glanced up and said, β€œWhat happened, Shorty?”

β€œI was hoping you could tell me, Claire.”

β€œAll I remember is, I slept until noon. After a few cups of coffee, I went down to the shop and placed a sign on the front door about being closed for a few days. Then I woke up here.” She paused for a moment. β€œThey told me if I hadn’t been found, I probably wouldn’t have made it.”

He frowned. β€œDid they say why?”

β€œNo, just that I had a weak pulse and low blood oxygen.” She reached for his hand and held it. β€œA nurse told me a friend found me. That friend was you, wasn’t it?”

He nodded.

β€œThank you. I was on the third floor, wasn’t I?”

β€œYes.”

β€œI have rarely ventured up there. Too dark and spooky.”

β€œWhat’s this witch got against you, Claire?”

β€œI have no idea.”

Small crossed his arms. β€œThey’re gonna let you go home here soon. Why don’t you stay with me at the hotel tonight? I can look around the shop tomorrow and see if I can find any clues who this blonde woman might be.”

She squeezed his hand. β€œI like that idea.”

* * * * * *

Using a flashlight purchased before he ventured up to the third floor, Small swept the beam around the cluttered area. Claire followed him into the room.

β€œI’ve never really been up here much, Shorty. The wiring is messed up which means, no lights. Since I don’t need the room, I’ve never made the repairs.”

He looked at her and frowned. β€œYou own the building?”

β€œYeah.” She paused. β€œActually, I inherited it from my grandmother. She was the one who started the gem shop. I worked there until she died. I moved in and took over the shop.”

β€œDo you know the history of the building?”

She shook her head.

He turned his attention back to the contents of the third floor. He moved further into the darkness and his flashlight shown on a brick wall. β€œIs there a room behind this wall, Claire?”

β€œI have no idea.”

He detected a strained tone to her voice. Turning, he pointed the flashlight back at her and found she stood with her arms folded, shivering.

β€œYou cold?”

β€œAll of a sudden I’m freezing.”

He walked back to stand beside her. A distinct cold air pocket hung over the area. He heard a loud noise behind him. Pointing the flashlight toward the sound, he watched a door open in the wall. A figure emerged with a brilliant halo surrounding it.

Claire screamed and Shorty Small did what Shorty Small did best. He retrieved the Glock from his concealed holster, pointed it at the figure and started squeezing the trigger.

* * * * * *

Homer LaCroix handed the envelope with the additional thirty thousand dollars to Shorty Small. β€œThe powers that be are very pleased with the outcome, my friend.”

β€œGood, I like satisfied clients.” He tilted his head. β€œYou in good standing with them?”

β€œExtremely. They like your style and asked me to see if you would move to New Orleans. They haveβ€”uhβ€”possible other projects for you. Your moving expenses would be picked up, of course.”

β€œReally. Let me think about it.”

β€œI bet Claire would like for you to move.”

β€œShe would.”

β€œThen, what’d ya say.”

β€œI’ll think about it.”

β€œShe doing, okay?”

β€œYes, thanks for asking.”

β€œWhen did you figure out the witch lived on the third floor of her building?”

β€œThe first time I saw the place, I didn’t notice the third floor. Almost like it didn’t exist. The night I found Claire, I stood outside and noticed there was another floor above her apartment. I honestly don’t remember seeing it before. I found the staircase to it behind a door in her kitchen.”

β€œHow many did you find?”

β€œThe blonde bitch with the black eyes was there. Not sure how many others. As soon as I shot her, she shrieked and dissolved into a puddle of water. The others disappeared.”

β€œWhat happened to the water?”

Small gave LaCroix a half-smile. β€œSopped it up with a towel, then burned it.”

β€œDoes Claire know anything?”

β€œNahβ€”she passed out when the door opened. She inherited the building from her grandmother. Who, I discovered after a trip to the library, was a well-known Voodoo Queen before the turn of the century. I also found a picture of the woman in a digital copy of a newspaper.”

β€œOh.”

β€œYeah, blonde and a pretty woman.”

β€œAre you telling me…”

β€œYeah, the witch was Claire’s grandmother. Claire doesn’t know that, so keep your mouth shut.”

β€œWhy?”

β€œThink about it, would you want to know your grandmother tried to kill you?”

LaCroix smiled and nodded. He tilted his head. β€œThere’s always something going on around here that needs someone with your talent. Why don’t you say goodbye to Chicago and join us down here?”

The big man was quiet for a few moments. He pursed his lips. β€œYeah. Chicago doesn’t hold that many good memories for me. Guess, if a hurricane comes, I can always head north.”

Rating: 10.00/10. From 1 vote.
Please wait...


🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available


Written by J.C. Fields
Edited by Craig Groshek
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

πŸ”” More stories from author: J.C. Fields


Publisher's Notes: N/A

Author's Notes: N/A

More Stories from Author J.C. Fields:

The Soul Collector
Average Rating:
10

The Soul Collector

The Skinwalker
Average Rating:
10

The Skinwalker

The Conversation
Average Rating:
10

The Conversation

The Haunting of Shorty Small
Average Rating:
10

The Haunting of Shorty Small

Related Stories:

No posts found.

You Might Also Enjoy:

The Worms Crawl In
Average Rating:
9.4

The Worms Crawl In

The Pledge
Average Rating:
10

The Pledge

Human Nature
Average Rating:
8.56

Human Nature

The Home
Average Rating:
10

The Home

Recommended Reading:

Where the Light Stops Dead: 50 Short Horror Stories by Mr. Michael Squid
The Complete Knifepoint Horror
Long Dead Before Dying
GODLESS

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

Subscribe
Notify of
guest

0 Comments
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Skip to content