How Not To Write

A little Halloween story for you to enjoy...

One must always begin at the Beginning,
For that is where one finds the End.
Betwixt the two comes the Middle,
And therein lies the story.

--- 1

There is a dark, forbidden valley where travelers should never go, though sometimes, a careless soul manages to wander in and still make it back. Their hair gone white where once it was black. Their eyes never rest, and they look hard into the shadows. What they see we do not know, but they never, never sleep again.

"The wind may blow fierce, but it is not the cold that makes the trees shiver. Those poor, woody prisoners would burn their own branches, if only for the light."

--- 2

Jeremy Shade was a boy who treasured such tales. He collected them in fat notebooks with a fine and measured hand. He was careful to note each word as it was said, not wanting to miss the slightest detail or moment of dread.

His parents felt awful about this habit of his, wallowing in horror and fear. But try as they might, they could not convince him to give it up. He only laughed when something should have scared him, only giggled when terror should have gripped him, and rolled on the floor holding his sides when he should have been petrified.

--- 3

Wherever they went, Jeremy asked about ghosts and goblins and beasts without names. He wanted to know which houses were haunted, and where the people kept their graves. And all the while his parents tried, and tried, and tried to get their little boy, Jeremy Shade, to be like others his size.

But he wouldn't.

And his parents could only shrug when Jeremy asked what went into a witches brew. They apologized to strangers when he asked them who had recently died and how they met their end. His parents shook their heads so often, that Jeremy wondered if they might not come off at the neck. On this thought, Jeremy jotted a few words in his notebook.

--- 4

After a time, it came to pass that the family only went on vacation to places where horrible stories were to be found, or rather, Jeremy made sure that every place had a horrible story to tell.

When they went to the beach, dead pirates rose up from the sea and savaged the coast in search of their lost treasure. At the lake, Jeremy found signs of giant serpents and heard shepherds tales of entire flocks snatched from shore. There were ghosts in every hotel, and monsters lurking inside each museum.

It was hopeless for Jeremy's parents, for they hadn't enjoyed a wink of sleep on any trip for years. That is, until they heard about the Inn...

--- 5

Jeremy's father read the brochure one night at dinner, "Ringed by mountains and surrounded by forest, this secluded Inn casts the sole light for miles around. Here you can relax."

"I don't know," said Mother. "A lonely Inn in the middle of an enchanted forest? It sounds right up You-Know-Who's alley."

Jeremy smiled to himself and ate his dinner, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Surely though, this would be a truly scary place, he thought. His mind wobbled at the thought of all the stories he could put into his notebooks.

"No, no," said Father. "I called and checked it out. The Chef told me there were no ghost stories, nothing to fear. The place has been in his family for generations and there's not a dark thought in the whole valley."

"The Chef?" asked Mother.

"Yes, they have a Chef!" said Father. "Isn't that great? He was the one who answered the phone. Apparently, the restaurant is quite popular with the locals."

They talked like this for awhile. Father trying his best to convince Mother, and Mother trying not to get her hopes up. All the while, Jeremy ate his dinner and smiled.

--- 6

It was a long drive to the Inn. By the time they reached the little road that led to the valley, it was almost dark. The last orange-yellow light of the sun was fading behind the mountains. Father stopped to check the map, and Jeremy watched as night slid silently into place like a curtain coming down on a play.

As soon as all was black, a light appeared on a hill in the middle of the valley and the Shade family could see the Inn.

"Oh, there it is," said Father. "Just like the picture in the brochure."

He held up the brochure so that everyone could see. Mother frowned.

"I don't like the looks of this road," she said. "Did the brochure say anything about a gravel road?"

"I think it's quaint," said Father.

"I think it's spooky," said Mother.

And Jeremy? He smiled.

--- 7

The road to the Inn wound through the valley. With each turn, they could see the Inn through the shadowy arms of trees reaching for the stars. As they drew closer, the light of the Inn became many lights, and the Shade family could see that all of the windows blazed in the darkness.

As the road rose at a steep angle, a fog closed in around the car. They lost sight of the Inn and all its lights, and a hush came over the family. Even the sound of the tires churning through the dirt and gravel seemed far, far away.

The fog became a mist and then a drizzle, but before it could rain they reached the Inn. It came upon them all at once, like a beast pouncing from behind a tree.

"Oh!" said Mother.

Father stopped the car and for a moment, a single, terrible moment, it seemed that he might actually turn around. Jeremy bit his fingers, and hoped, and hoped, and hoped. And then, to Jeremy's great relief, Father continued on to the Inn.

--- 8

There in the night, in the fog and the mist, stood the magnificently horrible Spatula Inn.

Not on the very top of the hill, but almost, the Inn seemed to have grown from the rock itself. It had a great, craggy face, notched with tear-stained stones, the eyes of the windows recessed in mournful repose. The door of sturdy timber with iron bolts and studs gave little sense of welcome nor sense of comfort and rest inside.

With the wind just beginning to rise... What Inn, what castle for that matter, could have been more perfect for Jeremy Shade?

--- 9

Father sat still as a corpse behind the wheel of the car, while Mother gripped the brochure and desperately looked for a sign that they were mistaken. This could not be the Inn. This could not be the place where they were supposed to relax!

And Jeremy? He smiled.

--- 10

Father looked at Mother. She shook her head No, but just Father shrugged and smiled. He stepped out of the car and walked up to the Inn. He peered into the window to see who or what was within. Then with another shrug towards the car, he crossed over to the door, put his hand on the latch, and pressed on.

For some long silent minutes, while Father was inside, Jeremy thought he heard his mother cry - but really she was just murmuring and complaining to herself. So, Jeremy scribbled and sketched in his notebook.

--- 11

Father soon returned with a broad smile on his face.

"It's wonderful inside," he said. "There's a fire and it's all very cozy. The Chef said our supper will be ready as soon as we settled into our rooms and come back downstairs."

"The Chef?" asked Mother.

"Yes, he's the only one here tonight and we are the only guests."

Jeremy smiled.

--- 12

Inside it was as Father had said, a fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth and the floor was covered in rich, red carpets and on the carpets sat the most comfortable looking furniture Jeremy had ever seen. For a moment he was disappointed, because it certainly seemed like they would be able to relax.

But then, they met the Chef.

--- 13

The Chef was tall and lean and, save for his white hat and apron, dressed head to toe in black. His long, long fingers stretched out from his hands.

He bid them enter and brought them to the dining room.

"I hope this meets with your approval," he said and bowed.

"Oh but Chef," said Mother. "It is so late and you must be hungry yourself. Won't you join us?"

The Chef bowed again and shook his head.

"You honor me, dear lady, but no. I have already dined this evening. However, I will sit awhile with you if I may, and then I must return to the kitchen because I am expecting more guests this evening and their tastes are... quite particular."

--- 14

The Chef drew up a chair from another table and watched them eat. He smiled at Jeremy, who couldn't help but notice that the Chef's teeth were sharp and his lips were quite red.

"How old is this Inn, Chef Spatula?" asked Father as he stuffed more of the chicken into his mouth.

"Oh, it is very old indeed," said the Chef and he warmed to the subject. "It has been in my family for generations. My grandfather's, grandfather built this Inn and he was the first Chef Spatula. Since then, there has always been a Chef Spatula at the Inn, but I am sad to say that I am the last."

"But why?" asked Mother. "It's a wonderful place and that little village, what was it called? Bee Streets?"

"Alas," said the Chef, "Once it was very busy here, that is true. That was long ago, and now the people no longer come. I am alone here most of the time."

He said no more and in a moment excused himself to prepare for the guests expected much later.

For a long time, Mother and Father ate quietly. Jeremy picked at his food. He pushed it around on the plate, but he couldn't bring himself around to eating a single bite of it.

--- 15

Mother and Father had gone to their room without much further thought about the Chef. Jeremy on the other hand could not keep him out of his mind. He paced the floor of his room, looking out on occasion onto the forest, and then down, down towards the ground waiting for what? For the Chef's late guests perhaps?

Jeremy wondered who might come to the Inn at such a late hour.

As the clock neared midnight, the wind outside began to whirl and beat against the windows with a fierceness that could not be ignored. The trees outside whipped and turned, as if trying to free themselves from their roots so that they might wander about and do dark things in the night.

--- 16

The warmth from the fire made Jeremy drowsy. He thought of sleep, but he did not wish to sleep. He wanted to go downstairs and spy on the Chef. He wanted to see the guests with his own eyes.

Again, he felt the warmth of the fire. He looked to the comfort of the bed. It all made him feel even more sleepy, but he made resolve not to succumb, not to give in. Somewhere he found the determination to shake off the sands of night from his eyes and tread lightly towards the door.

By the time he took the doorknob in his hand, he was fully awake. The room behind me seemed draped in a fog that spoke of nothing but sleep and dreams and the lull of a night rocked by a strong wind. Looking back, Jeremy felt he'd walked away from sleep, a sleep that was not his own but something sent to him with the intent of keeping him in the room.

That thought strengthened his resolve, and he set forth into the dim hallway as quietly as he could.

--- 17

Midnight.

From down the winding stairs, Jeremy heard the mournful chime, the deep and resonate song of an ancient clock. The clock did not ring out the hour of twelve but drew out the one long note until it filled the whole of the Inn, seeping into every crack, under every door, into the minds of every sleeper in the place. Jeremy felt the vibrations in the boards beneath his feet, in the wobbling of the very nails holding the Inn together.

It was not a loud sound, but it was everywhere, thrumming and throbbing, humming long after it should have died away.

Jeremy crept quickly down the stairs. At the bottom, he was careful to be sure the Chef was not about nor anyone else. The lobby was empty, but he heard at the door the sound of laughter. Someone was approaching the Inn. The guests of the Chef! He had to find a place to hide before they came in and saw him standing there where he should not have been.

There was no time to lose. Quickly, he looked back to the stairs and thought of running back up to his room. It was then he noticed a door leading to a space under the stairs. He dashed to the door. Inside, it was dark.

The guests were now pressing to the entrance of the Inn and in a moment they would open the door and be inside. He had no choice but to plunge into the dark and take his chances there.

--- 18

It took a few moments for Jeremy's eyes to adjust to the darkness, but as they did his ears seemed to hear better than they had before. He could hear the conversation of women, three distinct voices. Whatever they were talking about must have been dreadfully funny because they laughed and laughed about it.

Then, he heard the voice of the Chef...

"Good evening, ladies," said the Chef. "It is good to see you in such fine spirits."

"Spirits?" said the women all together, and then they laughed.

One voice then spoke out from the rest, "Yes, yes! My dear Chef, we are in good spirits this evening!"

After which, they all laughed again, even the Chef whose own laugh made Jeremy draw in his breath for it was something like a wolf huffing and not a laugh.

"Please, ladies," said the Chef and all laughter stopped. "Allow me to direct you to the dining room. I've prepared your supper and it is waiting. I do not wish it to grow cold, and there will be time for our little jokes. Yes, there will be much time this evening I think for the Inn has guests apart from yourselves and they are sleeping above in the highest rooms."

To this news, the ladies clapped their hands excitedly, and together they all headed towards the dining room.

--- 19

Jeremy found a chink in the wall to which he could place his eye and see out into the room beyond.

And what a room it was! This was not the dining room he'd eaten in before but some place carved out of the very earth, with roots hanging down from the ceiling and things long dead staring out from the walls. The room smelled of stones washed by the rain, but a rain from long ago. There was the smell of rotted moss and of moldy leaves. The dampness in the air passing through the chink made Jeremy shiver.

The cavern was lit with hundreds of candles, some burning low and orange.

At the center of the room ran a long table with two dozen chairs, eleven on each side and capped on each end with great thrones, carved from the blackest wood wrapped with dragons and snakes and vines, with claws grasping the floor at the bottom of all four legs and arms twisted and knotted like the muscles in the arms of the fishermen.

Set into the walls of dirt and stone were pictures in gold frames. The gold was tarnished and barely reflected a flicker of the candlelight, the paintings though... How they sparkled - like fantastic showers of diamonds and jewels - they displayed scenes of horrible doings by horrible things. The eyes of the monsters in the paintings gleamed as if alive, their fangs and claws looked sharp enough to tear themselves off the canvas.

Jeremy saw their teeth and their smiles as they chased the people in the paintings through dark woods, or crept out from under beds in middle of the night. Jeremy saw those teeth and perhaps it was a trick of the candlelight but he could swear that on occasion some of the mouths moved, gnashing those flashing teeth or ruby red tongues darting out to lick their sharp edges.

--- 20

In the air of the room, the women seemed changed. Before, they were not unlike any other woman you might meet upon the street. Their clothes plain enough, their faces smooth and unremarkable. But here in the chamber, their fingers grew long in the strange light. Jeremy could see that they were much older than they appeared at first.

Much, much older.

They did not stoop as old women do, but stood as tall as their spines would allow, but their hands long and lean with skin just hanging off the bones had the shiny appearance of leather. Their fingernails, long like the fingers, were pale such as the moon is when seen through a fog. He looked to their faces and saw eyes that no longer held the whites of a woman's eyes, but a green like the top of a fetid pond. Their hair came down around their dingy faces in greasy streaks and lay flat against their dresses which also looked suddenly old and tattered.

The Chef stood as he always did, in black with his white apron and hat, but in the candlelight he too seemed changed. Jeremy thought that he could see just a glint of redness in his eyes, red like his lips, and when he spoke in low tones, Jeremy saw the Chef's needle-sharp teeth.

A sound in the chamber startled Jeremy. It was the howl of a dog, which was followed by a sharp bark and then laughter.

With a long sweep of his arm, the Chef motioned to the door, "It seems the rest of the guests have arrived!"

--- 21

The chamber filled to bursting with every imaginable horror of night and gloom and fairy tale. A beast with the horns of an elk and the face of a boar stood towering over the crowd. Those horns were bathed in a dull, orange flame that flicked like the candles and seemed to grow brighter when the creature laughed.

The sound of the dog Jeremy matched to a great hairy man, almost as large as the beast with the horns. The man, if he indeed was a man at all, had a snubbed muzzle seemingly like a dog or a wolf. His ears were sharp and tufts of white hair sprouted from inside.

There were others as well, so many others Jeremy found himself lost in the variety of color and form. Beast and human and even plant and mineral, all mixed together in the candlelight which if anything shone more brightly than before. There were so many other things to see, so many in fact that instead of being a horror it became to my eyes something ordinary. To see a woman dressed in a shower of blood with her eyes dangling from their sockets was nothing more gruesome than the seven little children, or what Jeremy took to be children but was not entirely sure, whose heads sprouted the short horns of goats and made rough clicking noises on the stones with their little cloven hoof-feet. Hovering above the crowd, taking rest occasionally by grasping at the roots of the ceiling, a bat, though larger than any bat Jeremy had ever seen, dashed to and fro. Its eyes were red and the teeth in its mouth could be seen at times, white, gleaming as such, and clearly sharp.

--- 22

For a time, Jeremy watched the bat for it was the only thing he could truly recognize and understand, but it was not a moment later that the bat flew out of the chamber and a second later that the Chef entered. With his tall hat, he was as large as the boar beast with its flaming horns. With his presence, a hush fell over the room and all eyes turned toward him.

The Chef bowed to the guests as was his custom, and said, "Dinner is prepared. If you would all be so kind as to take your seats, I will have it served."

Even though the table was large, Jeremy couldn't see how so many different creatures might find a place, but as they all crowded about the table the chairs seemed to multiply of their own accord and the table stretched to accommodate each and every body that came to its side. The very chamber itself seeming to expand as necessary as the roots grasped at the edges of the dirt walls and pulled the space open.

Jeremy looked for the three women and he found them at one end. They were smiling and waving and looking too all the other guests to be sure they each found a spot. The boar's head beast took one of the great chairs on the end and even his massive bulk seemed to be swallowed by the chair as the back of it rose above his horns and reached for the ceiling with black, wooden tendrils.

--- 23

Once everyone was seated, the Chef clapped his hands once and silence fell immediately and the sounds of lonely footsteps rang out from the hall. Jeremy listened as everything else in chamber listened, to each step. The flames of the candles grew higher. The whole room brightened such that it stung Jeremy's eyes, but what he saw took his breath away.

Slowly entering the room, came a man and he was not alone. Behind him followed a woman, and each of them carried a silver platter. They walked as if asleep, their eyes open but not seeing and their steps. The Chef's eyes blazed red and horrible as guided their movements with his eyes.

The creatures clapped while others politely hooted and howled their approval at the sight of Jeremy's parents walking step by step towards the hungry guests.

Mother and Father placed the platters upon the table and lifted their covers to reveal dishes even Jeremy felt he should not describe.

--- 24

"My guests," said the Chef, "my friends. These three lovely ladies, the so-called Witches of Exmoor, have called you here tonight. It is my honor that they choose my Inn in which host this grand gala. It is my deepest desire that you enjoy your feast and the pleasure of each others company. You see that I have new servants this evening, but that is not all. No, the food and the companionship is not all that will amuse you. First, we will have a hunt, for I was not to have two servants this evening but three. And the third, wherever he may be, will be a bit of quick sport if it pleases you."

Jeremy gasped and all eyes turned to chink in the wall. A smile made its way around the room and then the Chef finished his speech.

"My guests, my friends. Tonight we dine!"

Jeremy slipped back through the passage as fast as he could. When he emerged from the cupboard, he was relieved to find that he was all alone but it was only a temporary respite. He heard the sound of chairs scraping in the cavern and the stamping of so many feet. He had no idea what to do or where to go, so he ran to the door and out into the dark and the storm.

-- 25

Jeremy was well into the trees when he heard the first howl. The cold sound struck him dead where he stood, but then he pressed on down the hill as fast as he could go.

The forest seemed to reach out and grab him and tear at his clothes. Jeremy ran faster. He stumbled and fell. Lightning flashed and another howl ripped through a thunderclap. There were sounds in the forest, sounds of feet and hooves and heavy breathing. They were getting closer, closing the gap quickly in a rush. Jeremy struggled to his feet and tried to move, but his knee was aching and he felt like he couldn't take another step.

And then Jeremy Shade felt something odd. He felt something very old had opened inside.

The hoard of the feast arrived and yet Jeremy Shade was eerily calm.

He turned to face them. They were all teeth and claws, eyes shining in the night, and the boar-headed beast and the Chef himself, patches much darker than all the rest.

He said quite softly, but in a voice that shook them all, "I am Jeremy Shade."

--- 26

At first the beasts did not know what to do. They shuffled their feet. They growled. The boar-headed beast roared, but Jeremy Shade cut him off with a casual gesture.

"I recognize you now," Jeremy Shade called aloud, "Each and every one of you. I have you, all of you, in my notebooks. You are mine and I am not afraid."

The Chef stepped forward, tall and somber, the lightning ripped the sky above and lit up his pale face. Jeremy Shade saw a smile on those red lips.

"Welcome home, Jeremy Shade," said the Chef. "Welcome home to Spatula Inn."

---

This story started life as a poem back in 2004. It rambled on through many a verse until it sort of drifted off into prose. Over the years, it's gone through several iterations but I never quite figured out an ending.

In this particular version, I cut out a lot of description to shorten up the little chapters. It could probably use some more work, but at least it has something of an ending now.

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