PB & Jake (a Halloween Horror Story)

Disclaimer: S. Meyer owns Twilight

Why won't the freakin' alarm go off? C'mon, Jake, c'mon. Wake up. Pleeeaaase wake up. Wake up, wake up. The shrill sound of the buzz from the alarm clock finally pierced the quiet of my darkened room, and I roused, shaking, and startled, covered in a sheen of sweat. Jeez, that was close. Saved by the bell once more … literally. I rubbed my hand over my face, and shook the cobwebs loose from my brain. How much longer was this gonna go on? I'd had this recurring dream now for weeks, sometimes twice in one night. It was gettin' so that I tried to stay awake as long as possible to avoid the night terrors.

When I rehearsed what went on in the dream, it didn't seem that creepy. You could even say it was comical, but under the influence of sleep, it was downright scary. The feelings it invoked—that's what terrified me.

I reset the alarm for morning, I'd already had a double dose of the nightmare this day.

Gettin' up groggily, I pulled on my shorts, and hopped to as soon as the buzzer started. I fixed a quick breakfast for Dad and myself. I no sooner shoveled a mouthful of oatmeal in my mouth, when he gave me the eye, and said, "I heard you muttering in your sleep last night. Are you still having that dream?"

I swallowed and answered, "Yeah, I can't seem to shake it."

Pointing his spoon at me, he added, "I spoke to Old Quil about your problem. He says, he thinks he can fix it for you."

"I guess anything is worth a try."

"He'll be out of town for a wedding, but he should be back home by next weekend."

"Thanks, I'll see him then."

"Be sure you do. This ol' man can't have his sleep interrupted night after night, and you need your rest too, eh?"

"You hit that one on the nose." I pushed back my chair, and stood, ready to book outta there. "Well, gotta go, Dad."

He waved, then continued eating his oatmeal.

I was out the door, and on patrol before you could say, wolf pack.

No way! The studly, Jacob Black is cowed by Blondie? What a pansy.

Shut it, Paul. You have no idea how freakin' creepy the girl can be.

That'd be the day a good-lookin' blonde could turn my dream into a nightmare.

Yeah, well, you hope you never have to face her like that.

Too bad she's a leech. I could go for her in a big way.

I bared my teeth at the jerk.

Hey, just sayin'.

Sweet dreams, Jake. He lit out, barking a laugh at my expense.

I worked a double shift that day, maybe exhaustion would keep the goblins away. No soap!

With the alarm set so I could avoid the inevitable, I was ready to slip into bed. As soon as the sandman weaved his magic tho', there I was walking down the forest path toward the small cabin. Smoke was curling outta the chimney, in a weird shade of purple. A spindly, red-bellied spider skittered along a web that spanned the dusty window, and the worn wooden door stood open as usual. The rusted hinges creaked when it closed behind me … all by itself, making me jump.

"Hello, Jacob." She smiled at me, from her seat at the table, but my reaction was not one of warm fuzzies. I knew what she was up to.

I nodded. "Rose."

"You remembered my name."

"How could I forget? I see you every damn night."

She laughed, a silvery, bell-like tinkle.

"You're just in time for dinner."

"Yours or mine," I remarked. By the expression on her face, the sarcasm wasn't lost on her. I'll say that for the tick, she was definitely sharp as her teeth.

"Why yours of course. I've already had mine."

Rosalie stood and walked across the room; every movement gracefully executed. She looked in the fridge. It was empty. Next she opened the cupboards, and on the shelf sat one lonely jar of Jiffy. "I'm sorry, I seem to be out of food. All I have left is peanut butter. Is that all right?"

"Suit yourself. You're runnin' this nightmare, not me."

That diabolical grin snaked across her face, givin' me the heeby-jeebies. Jeez, I felt the hair at the back of my neck stand at attention, and my arms prickled with goosebumps.

"Sit down, Jacob, I'll have dinner ready for you in a jiffy." She chuckled at her own joke. Well, I wasn't laughin'.

Taking a knife from a drawer, she returned to the table. I sat down, wishing I could wake up before it happened. I kept waiting anxiously, but no alarm sounded. Damn.

She placed the jar on the table. "You know what comes next, Jacob. Now, give me your hand."

I didn't want to, and tried to resist; it was useless. Her ruby-red eyes drilled into mine, removing all the will left in me. I had no choice but to comply with her vampy mojo.

Rosalie hummed as she lay my hand flat on the table, palm up. Scooping a glob of peanut butter onto the knife, she smeared it on my hand. She slid the knife back and forth in swirls, like frosting on a cake, dipping the blade into the jar at times, to add more. When she was satisfied that every area was completely covered, she put the lid back on the jar, and took the peanut butter back to the cupboard. The knife got dropped into the sink, and she waltzed to her chair.

With a flourish of her wrist, she cooed, "Time to eat up, mon cher. Bon appetit!"

She stared at me with glee as I turned my hand and bit into my peanut butter sandwich. The blood dripped down onto the wooden surface as I finished the ghastly meal. My heart pounded in horror, but I couldn't stop. She held me in her power.

Leaning closer, she licked her lips, "Oh goody, you left the best part for me."

My handless arm poured rivulets of red fluid, and Rosalie grabbed it, sucking the liquid greedily.

Buzz, buzz, buzz—the noise brought me outta the dream. Thank the spirits. Sitting up quickly, I heard something metallic slide off the mattress. I looked over the edge, and spotted a knife laying there. As I bent over to grab it, I noticed … traces of peanut stuck to my palm. Huuuuh!

The End