Apartment 325

“I can’t believe they still haven’t caught that guy,” I said aloud to no-one in particular. The bartender barely acknowledged me from where I sat perched on a stool whirling a skewered cherry around in my drink.

The TV over the bar was playing the evening news— it had just finished rolling on a segment about a recent slew of missing women the authorities believed to be connected. Their bodies had all been found dismembered in their own beds, a single red rose delicately placed across their chest. How romantic.

This particular evening, I had chosen to take myself out for a night on the town; something I usually never do this time of year. But, here I am. Sitting alone with my Whiskey Sour, in a tight little black dress. A birthday girl without anyone to celebrate with— or so it appeared.

“Can I buy you another one of those?” the man sitting a few stools away asked.

I turned my head, and smiled as I took him in. He was handsome enough. A cleanly shaven and well-put-together type of guy with a smile that could charm a snake. “Sure,” I said, brushing back a blonde lock of hair from my face. His smile broadened and he waved to the bartender.

—

It wasn’t long before he moved to the seat next to me, and then we were laughing and enjoying our second round of drinks together.

“I just moved here actually,” I offered, running a finger around the rim of my glass. "It’s been difficult meeting new people. I can be shy sometimes. But I’m glad I ran into you.”

He leaned in closer. “How could someone as beautiful as you have trouble meeting anyone?”

A giggle escaped me. What a smooth talker. It had been a while since someone made me feel like that… Attractive. “It can be scary living by yourself in a new city,” I went on, “especially with all of those murders happening.” My eyes flicked to the TV hanging behind the bar again— photos of five different women were displayed. All of them blonde.

Even my new companion stopped to watch.

“We’re asking anyone with information connected to these murders to please contact the Noel City police department”

“Scary,” he said, “hopefully they catch the guy.” He looked back at me, resuming that charming smile. “Would you like another drink?”

I nodded, tossing back the last swig of my third glass.

—

An hour later we were both stumbling into the lobby of my new apartment building, his hand on my lower back. I tried not to look at the garland draped across the front desk, or the gaudy Christmas tree beside the elevator as we waited for the sliding doors to open— saying a silent prayer of thanks to Samhain for my bleary vision.

The elevator dinged, we stepped inside, then we were all over each other. He pressed my back against the wall and kissed me hard. My hand barely found the button for the correct floor as he moved to my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. The ding of the elevators' arrival slowed us down, and I led him to apartment 325.

“Sorry, my place is kind of a mess from moving,” I said fumbling with the key, “And I wasn’t expecting to have a guest tonight.”

“No worries, I’m sure I won’t even notice,” he whispered against my skin and kept kissing my neck, sending shivers down my spine. It really had been a while.

Inside, we were met with disarray. Furniture over-turned, lamps lying sideways, clothing and books and other knickknacks scattered across the living room. The kitchen was dark, but the outline of stacked plates and other dishes were piled across the countertops.

I took his hand and led him through the mess, straight to the sofa. His eyes scanned the room, but he said nothing. He let me push him down, and I straddled his lap. I kissed him this time, not bothering to be gentle. His hands slid up my body, over my chest. It drove me wild. Then his hand reached my neck and his grip tightened.

I gasped, pulling out of the kiss and tried to laugh it off. “You’re a— kinky guy, huh?”

His hand squeezed tighter, cutting off my air. He watched my face carefully as I gasped deeper. I gripped his hand and pulled, but he would not budge. “T— th—that— hu—hurts,” I choked.

A guttural growl rumbled from somewhere nearby.

He released his grip on me and sat up straighter as I regained my breath.

“You never mentioned you had a dog,” he said as his eyes darted around the apartment again.

I rubbed my sore neck, and spoke through grit teeth, “I don’t.”

Unable to brush off my annoyance, I stood and moved to a cabinet with a small collection of glass bottles. “I need another drink.”

The man on my couch seemed to relax, though he continued to scan the room. I watched him from the corner of my eye. Watched as his attention settled onto the bright-orange jack-o’-lantern sitting on the coffee table before him; its jagged toothy grin illuminated by a flickering candle within.

A frown crossed his face, already forgetting that charming persona. “It’s a little late for Halloween.”

My distaste simmered. “Halloween is my favorite holiday.” I selected a bottle of some fancy-looking champagne from the mini-bar, and looked for a glass that was not broken.

“Really?” he said laughing— a laugh that put my teeth on edge. “I prefer Christmas.”

POP.

I stood frozen in place. Champagne fizzled over my hand and dripped to the floor. My back fully to him. “Chris— Christmas,” I repeated, feeling my body twitch at the word.

When he spoke again, his voice sounded closer to me than it had been a moment ago. “It is Christmas Eve after all. You know. Holly, jolly Christmas?” I felt his voice vibrate against my ear when he whispered, “jingle bells?”

His hand grazed my shoulder, gently this time, sweeping my thick blonde hair to the side— exposing my neck to him. I turned my head in time to see the metallic sheen of a needle.

Before the tip even pricked my skin, a thick green vine wrapped around the man’s wrist. Another vine snapped around his torso like a whip, snatching his flailing body backward away from me. The syringe clattered onto the floor.

“What the fuck is this?!”

I turned to face where the man hung. Where my jack-o’-lantern lurked behind him— grown to a monstrous size, wider than the couch. Now animated by anger twisting at its carved expression.

My date swung through the air, and screamed at the sight of it.

The pumpkin-beast roared in response, spewing stringy bits of goo and seeds onto the man.

However, I turned my attention to the syringe on the ground. I clicked my tongue as I picked it up. “You were going to drug me? Is that what you did to those other women?” My eyes shot back to him.

He was shaking and crying as my pumpkin dangled him closer to its open mouth.

“And here I thought you were a romantic. How disappointing. After everything I went through tonight— after changing myself to fit what I thought you’d like.” I relaxed my shoulders, letting my true self go— I unhinged my jaw. My hair curled and shifted back into the usual neon shade of orange; my skin paled and hollowed. All while the familiar skitter of spider legs tickled my cheeks and neck as they settled back into my swirling hair.

“Wi—witch,” my date managed to stutter. “You’re a witch!” He struggled to release himself, but the vines only tightened.

“Actually, you can call me Karma,” I said, turning my attention back to the syringe. My thumb pressed on the end, making liquid squirt out. “I’ve been watching you for a while. I bet you thought you were clever, meeting lonely women at bars. Going back to their homes— only they never came back outside. Not in one piece anyway.” I looked at him again, my annoyance boiling. “I thought you were just lonely— like I was. Thought we would hit it off. Shame about your taste in holidays.”

I tossed the syringe away— I didn’t need to stoop to such an amateur level. “I’ll let this be a lesson to myself— that if I need to change myself for someone, then we probably wouldn’t be compatible.” I gave my pumpkin a nod.

The vines retracted, dragging him closer to the jack-o’-lantern’s wide, jagged mouth. The man’s screams filled the apartment as he struggled— as he was flung inside that gaping mouth.

“Yes. It’s always best to be yourself,” I added with a smile that distorted my face.

Carved teeth closed around him, and his muffled screaming intensified. I could hear the sound of bones crunching as the pumpkin chewed up my date.

I smiled at my pet. Watching him enjoy the meal. “Such a good boy.”

Then I sighed. Another birthday alone.

After giving my pumpkin an approving pat on the head, I headed for the bedroom.

Flickering candles lit the dark space. I looked to the bed— where the deceased bodies of the real owners of apartment 325 lay.

That morning I had spent hours arranging bushels of red roses, still with their thorns, all around the bedroom; I had even stolen the good long-burning candles for the occasion. Had set-up a table with all my favorite cutting instruments that now sat untouched.

What could have been a romantic, candle lit evening together slicing and dicing… ruined.

“Oh well,” I said aloud. “Better off alone being myself than with someone who doesn’t appreciate me… or whatever those voices in my head said.” I grinned, selecting my favorite knife from the spread— and got to work carving triangular eyes and jagged grins onto my victims.

Somewhere in the distance, bells jingled… it made my eye twitch.