Authors: Kealan Patrick Burke
"Chilly," scoffed the kid and returned to his car, his shoes crunching on the gravel.
The movie previews began and the honking died. Crickets sawed a song in the field behind the screen.
The moon was high, bathing the lot in a cool blue light.
"One," said a voice and the girl sighed, looked up at the man standing in front of her and began to punch out the ticket. Her hand froze.
"Hi Stephanie," Dean said.
He moved his face closer, so the amber glow fell on his face and Stephanie barely restrained a grimace.
"What are you doing here?" she asked after a moment, then tugged the ticket free and slid it beneath the Plexiglas window.
"I wanted to see you."
"Oh yeah, for what?"
"To apologize."
"Apology accepted," she said testily and glared at him. "That'll be two dollars."
He smiled, said, "You look amazing," and passed over the money.
And she did. The scars were gone, with only the faintest sign that they'd ever been there. Perhaps the skin on her right cheek was just a little darker than it should have been, a little tighter than normal, but that could be blamed on makeup. Without the scar, she was stunning, but then, through all his nights of suffering and the endless days of rage, he'd come to realize that even
with
them, she'd been beautiful. It was he who'd been the ugly one, ugly on the inside.
She stopped and stared at him, the look he remembered, the look that had haunted him, but then it was gone; exasperation replacing it.
"What happened to you?" she asked.
He put a hand to his chin, to the hard pink ridges of skin there and shrugged. "I had to let it out."
He expected her to ask the question so many people had put to him ever since the day his father had kicked in the bathroom door and found him lying bleeding on the floor, his face in ruins, his mother's carving knife clutched in one trembling hand, but she didn't. She simply shook her head.
"You destroyed yourself."
He nodded. "For you."
Her laugh was so unexpected he staggered back a step, the scars on his face rearranging themselves into a map of confusion.
Someone honked a horn at the screen. A chorus of voices echoes from the speakers.
Stephanie looked ugly again. "You almost killed him you know."
"Who?"
"Freddy."
"I know. He deserved it."
"No he didn't."
He watched her carefully, watched her features harden and a cold lance of fear shot through him.
"What do you mean? After what he did—"
She frowned, as if he had missed the simplest answer of all. "I
asked
him to do it."
On the screen, someone screamed. For a moment, Dean wasn't sure it hadn't been himself.
"You used to see Freddy hanging around all those cheerleaders and blonde bimbos at school, right?"
He nodded, dumbly, his throat filled with dust.
"Did you ever actually see him out with any of them?"
He didn't answer.
Ominous music from the speakers; footsteps; a door creaking loud enough to silence the crickets.
"He had an image to maintain, Dean. He had to fit the role of the high school stereotype. He was a jock and that meant he should be seen with a certain type of girl. But that's not the kind of girl he
liked
." She smiled, and it was colder than the night. "He liked his girl's damaged, as if they'd been through Hell and returned with tales to tell, as if they had scars to prove they were tough and ready for anything. The Barbie doll type made him sick."
Dean shuddered, jammed his hands into the pockets of his coat; wished he'd brought the knife.
"I was his girl," she said, a truth that wrenched his guts surer than any blade. "No one knew because he still had his pride. Why do you think he hit Greer for trying to fuck me? That was going one step too far. 'Course that dumbass Greer knew nothing about it and still doesn't."
Dean stared, his body trembling, his hands clenched so tight the scars on his arms must surely rip open and bleed anew.
A joke. It was all a joke
.
"We didn't think you'd freak out like you did and beat seven shades of shit out of Freddy. Christ. You nearly killed him, you asshole."
But Dean didn't hear her. An evil laugh filtered through the speakers, followed by a hellish voice that asked: "Where's my pretty little girl?" And then a scream to make Fay Wray proud.
Where's my pretty little girl?
"How…" Dean began, before pausing to clear his throat. "How did you…?" He indicated his own mangled face with a trembling forefinger.
"Surgery," she said airily. "It's why I'm still working in this fucking dump. My mother refuses to help me pay for it. Too busy buying shit she doesn't need on the Shopping Channel. Of course, when I lost the scars, I lost Freddy too. I was tired of him anyway."
The sound of unpleasant death, of skin rending, gurgling screams, and bones snapping, filled the air.
"Hey," Stephanie said with a shrug, "it's all in the past, right? No hard feelings?"
Look at you now, shithead
.
Dean nodded, licked his lips. "Yeah. Right, no hard feelings."
Stephanie nodded her satisfaction. "Good, so are you going to watch your movie, or what?"
Look at you now
.
# # #
Born and raised in Dungarvan, Ireland, Kealan Patrick Burke is an award-winning author described as "a newcomer worth watching" (
Publishers Weekly
) and "one of the most original authors in contemporary horror" (
Booklist
).
Some of his works include the novels KIN, MASTER OF THE MOORS, CURRENCY OF SOULS and THE HIDES, the novellas THE TURTLE BOY (Bram Stoker Award Winner, 2004), VESSELS, MIDLISTERS, and JACK & JILL, and the collections RAVENOUS GHOSTS and THE NUMBER 121 TO PENNSYLVANIA & OTHERS (Bram Stoker Award-Nominee, 2009).
Kealan also edited the anthologies: TAVERNS OF THE DEAD (starred review,
Publishers Weekly
), BRIMSTONE TURNPIKE, QUIETLY NOW (International Horror Guild Award Nominee, 2004), the charity anthology TALES FROM THE GOREZONE and NIGHT VISIONS 12 (starred review,
Publishers Weekly
, British Fantasy Award & International Horror Guild Award nominee).
A movie based on his short story "Peekers", directed by Mark Steensland screened at a variety of international film festivals and won a number of awards. You can view the film at the author's website.
As actor, Burke played the male lead in Greg Lamberson's film SLIME CITY MASSACRE, the long-awaited sequel to the cult classic SLIME CITY, which will be released on DVD, Blu-ray, and Video on Demand in 2011.
Visit Kealan on the web at: