Meeting an Urban Legend
By Joyce Frohn
John reached for Mark’s shoulder and tried to pull him close. “I know we just moved from the city, but shouldn’t we be living up to the newlywed tradition?” he said.
“We only have two days before Halloween. We have to get ready.” Mark jumped out of bed and pulled on sweats. He rummaged through one of the boxes piled on the floor of the bedroom.
“You have to see the decorations I have.” He held up paper bats with rainbow flag banners on. “Remember when we went on the march on our first date?”
John peeked out from under the covers. “Yeah. I do. They’re cute. But we have all morning and I have—”
“I’ll just run out and put them on the front door and put this plastic pumpkin over that lantern out front. This is such a great house. The yard and everything. It’s so nice not living in that apartment in the city. I’ll be back in a minute.”
John moaned and pulled the covers over his head.
A few minutes later, Mark ran back to the bedroom. “Did you lock the back door last night?” John’s grunt was noncommittal. “Because I found it ajar.”
John stuck his head out from the blankets. “Around here, half the people probably leave the back door unlocked. We don’t live in the city anymore.”
Mark looked down at John. “We still need to pay attention. Even here. I thought I heard a noise last night.”
“It was some animal, a stray cat or a raccoon.”
“No. It’s just like those urban legends. You know about ‘hook hand’ and ‘the choking dog’. Those are always set in the suburbs. There could be a knife wielding maniac under the bed right now.” John moaned and rolled on to his side.
The light over the bed flickered and went out. “See. We’re in the dark. The line could be cut. Maybe the phones are too.”
“No. We blew a fuse or the light bulb needs changing. It’s nine in the morning. If you want light, open the curtains or better yet, come back to bed. We don’t need lights for I want to do.” He reached out his arms for his lover but Mark sidestepped.
“You don’t understand. Some night I could come home and reach for your face and all my hand will hit is a bloody stump and you’ll be dead.” His breathing was coming fast and his eyes were wide with horror.
John climbed naked out of the bed and wrapped his arms around him. “It’s okay. Those are just stories. It could never really happen.”
“But the door—I just see the bloody stump of your neck. And you not moving.”
“Everything’s safe.” John said holding him tight to his chest. He leaned back. “Look,” He put his right hand on the top of his head and his left hand on his chin. “It’s been detachable for years.” John said as he lifted his head from his neck. “Here. It’s safe,” he said as he dropped his head into his lover’s lap.
The masked man with a hook and bloody knife slid out from under their bed and screamed as he jumped through a window and ran away. The entwined lovers never noticed.
This story originally appeared in the anthology Nothing Ever Happens in Fox Hollow in December 2020.
Joyce Frohn has also been published in the anthology Dark Cheer: Cryptids Emerging, Clarkesworld, and other places. She is married with an adult daughter. She also shares a house with an elderly gecko, two cats, a guinea pig and too many dirty dishes.