Ghost Club Murders
By Alexander Wojcik
Hey everyone, i was on the website late one night, and saw that there was a Pac-Man section. I decided to investgate, and came accross some well written stories. they were short, but i enjoyed them. But I also noticed that they were mostly funny or comedy. I decided to write this one as a horror fic. Haha, Enjoy.
It snowed that day, at the graveyard. Clyde was there. He was there, in his black suit, with his pressed white shirt, and his black tie. He was there, watching with a somber gleam in his eyes, while his two friends, Pinky and Inky were buried in the Namco-Fields memorial park grounds. He watched as Inky was buried first, with his disfigured body, crossed with hundreds of what the Autopsy claimed to be "bite marks". He saw the family of the Cyan ghost crying over their dead son. He saw the grief in their heart, and the trembling of his fiancé, as she watched her husband-to-be go down into the cold earth.
Next Came Pinky into the cold ground. Clyde saw his best friend lowered into the ground. Her shocked eyes open in awe and disbelief, as if the last thing she saw was surprising to her. Her body covered in a perfect white cloth, revealing nothing of her terribly broken body, her Mother crying in the background. Clyde stood, with his somber face pointing towards the tombstones on the ground which read "May 22, 1980 – July 31, 2009". Two of ghost friends had died that day. No one knew it would have ended so suddenly.
Blinky came over to stand next to the orange ghost. Wrapping a hand around Clyde, Blinky tried to console his broken friend.
"Hey Clyde, I'm sorry, I know that Pinky meant a lot to you. You were planning to propose, weren't you?" he asked.
"Blinky….. I just don't know how I will go on. Their lives were ended so suddenly. They were young, in their prime. For God Sake, Inky was going to get married in four months. And now he left a fiancé broken." replied Clyde fighting back the need for tears.
"I know, I know. I just they catch the son of a bitch who did this to them. I hope they catch him, and gut the bastard. He deserves nothing less then what he did to them." said Blinky. He was always the tough one of the bunch. Always standing up for the weak, and always wanting to protect.
"Clyde, go home and get some rest. This was a big day for you. I hope that someone will come forward to you and help you. I'm in no position to do so."
"Blinky, I'm sorry to ask but, how goes the AA meetings?"
"Dry Clyde, very Dry." answered Blinky.
Later that night the snow thickened. While Clyde entered his empty flat in the Chicago high-rise were he practiced piano on the massive instrument the was in his back room, he began to reminisce the days of the original Ghost Club, the days when they all worked for NamcoINC Maze Development team. Even though they were all hired as developers, they all went and got to test the mazes themselves. Those were the times, the times before Blinky and his alcoholic binges, before Inky was engaged, before Pinky knew about Clyde. Entering his bathroom, Clyde looked into his mirror, and was returned by a battered vision of him. Opening the cabinet, he grabbed his pain killers, swallowed four without water, and closed the cabinet.
The image that he saw in the reflection was most peculiar. It was a small, yellow floating ball, perfectly smooth, and hovering gently. Clyde, who was pretty sure it was the drugs kicking in, touched the small sphere.
"Wacka."
Clyde spun around, in a frantic flailing. He swore he just heard a voice behind him. The ball disappeared.
"Damn, those drugs mean no bull-shit." he said to himself as he entered his shower. He proceeded to turn the faucet. The cold water rushed towards his face, and it hit him with a cold breath of winter.
"Wacka."
"Who's there?!" yelped Clyde as the cold water hit him.
He could have sworn he heard chewing noises. Dismissing these as side effects of the pain killers, he started to wash his body. He thought of the one night he had with Pinky. He remembered that glorious night of love and bliss. He remembered the next day at the office, where she and he exchanged awkward smiles, vowing never to tell any soul of their night. He remembered the day she told him never again. He remembered the day she changed her mind, and took him back. He cried. He cried out in anguish.
"Damnit, Pinky! I love you! Why did you have to fucking die now! We had it planned. We had the damn plan ready. I was going to propose!" cried Clyde as he collapsed on the floor of the shower. "I had it all ready. The dinner reservations, the crappy movie, and the ring I saved for."
"Wacka."
Shooting straight up, Clyde spun around and fell out of the shower, taking the curtain and its holder with him. He scrambled for his underwear, and managed to put them on in his pain killer, heart break binge.
"Damn voices. I hate this!" he exclaimed. He ran over to the cabinet, and finished off the pain medication. Going into his kitchen, he grabbed a bag of Butter-Snap pretzels, a cold can of coke, and the TV remote. He sat down on his Futon, and began to watch late night talk shows. After an hour of watching he dozed into sleep.
"Wacka."
Jumping awake, he heard the chewing noise again. Looking around, the only thing he saw was the TV. It was playing nothing but Static Fuzz white noise.
"Damn drugs." grumbled the sleepy Clyde. He pressed off on the TV, but it did not turn off. He did so and failed after many attempts. He then got up and unplugged the TV. It did not turn off. Sighing, he heard something. He leaned closer to the TV, and listened.
"Wa-cka……..Wa-cka……..Wa-cka……. Wa-cka……..Wa-cka……..Wa-cka……."
At that moment, a picture fell off the wall. Snapping into reality, Clyde walked over to the fallen picture. It was a picture of the Ghost Club on their first day in the office. The picture normally had the gang in a pyramid style standing position, with goofy faces. But it was different this time. The place where Inky and Pinky stood, there were rips and shreds. And the haunting part to Clyde was that there was a circle of a red substance around his picture, with a phrase in thin writing saying "next" over his.
"Wa-cka……..Wa-cka……..Wa-cka……. Wa-cka……..Wa-cka……..Wa-cka……."
Throwing the picture frame, Clyde began to panic. He heard a small tapping in the background.
"Who the hell is there?! Show yourself!"
Silence, silence all except for a light sound. One or two piano keys played from the back room. From the other room, he did not hear another whisper, but a voice of a young boy.
"Wacka." whispered the voice. "Wacka Wacka."
Panic stricken and shocked, Clyde ran to his bedroom, and locked his door. Then, running to the phone, he dialed 911.
"Hello, there is a killer in my house! He is……."
"Wacka Wacka." Replied a voice.
Clyde dropped the phone. He turned to his door, which had become ajar. He pulled a pocket knife out from under his pillow.
"Get the fuck out of here, or I swear I will cut you God Damn face open!"
He felt a warm breath on his neck. His spine shivered. His palms opened. A light whisper came to his ear.
"Wacka Wacka."
The next morning, Blinky was walking over to the Flat Clyde lived in. he was going to tell Clyde that maybe they go bowling to get his mind off the death. To his surprise, he saw cop cars and an ambulance in front of the building. He walked over to the nearest officer, while a body was being lifted into the ambulance.
"Hey, what's happened here?" Blinky asked.
"A body was found in the flat up there. It was identified as Clyde Orange, ghost for NamcoINC. You know the guy?" replied the cop.
"Oh my God, I do. He's one of my best friends. I was coming over to his house, just now to….."
Blinky never finished. The officer began to smile at him. An eerie smile, the ones clowns give at carnivals. The ones that send shivers down spines. The officer cocked his head violently towards the left. He then began to chew, but to chew on nothing. The cop began to bleed out crimson blood all over Blinky. Blinky then heard his voice.
"Wacka Wacka."
"Wacka Wacka."
A little bit of fun for those who enjoy off-beat stories.