Goblins by David Bernstein Page A

balls of black marble.
    â€œYou little shit,” he said, regaining his anger. He prodded the creature in the chest. “You’re in my head. My dream. I’m the master of it.”
    The monster’s arm moved with blurring speed as if to knock Dean’s hand away, but Dean’s arm remained where it was in front of the thing. He felt a burning sensation on his wrist, similar to the time he grabbed the wrong end of his wife’s curling iron. He looked down and watched as his hand fell to the floor. Blood spewed from the stump. The severed body part hit the floor with a dull thud.
    Dean’s eyes bulged. His jaw hung open. The creature let loose a hissing chuckle and grinned, pointy teeth revealed. The pain in his wrist grew more intense. He wasn’t supposed to feel pain in a dream. The perception of reality thundered across his state of disbelief, shattering it completely. He looked up at the creature and shook his head. “You’re not real. You can’t be—”
    The creature lashed out with its clawed hand, silencing Dean. His throat went numb and he could no longer talk or swallow. Warm liquid flowed down his neck and over his chest. The numbness faded and sharp hot pain replaced it. He felt for his throat, knowing a large chunk was missing. He staggered back, gasping for breath and coughing up blood.
    The last thing Dean saw before the creature sprang on him and bit off his face was it lapping up his voice box and throat flesh with its worm-like tongue.

Chapter Five
    Chief Hale sat behind his desk and brought his steaming cup of vanilla roast coffee to his lips, when Officer James Willows entered his office with a grim look on his face. Willows was a good-looking, tall, black man with soft brown eyes that could burn with intensity when things got serious. At forty years of age, he could easily pass for twenty-five.
    Willows had been a member of the Manteo police force for five years. Before that, he had been a patrolman for the city of Raleigh. He served ten years there until his wife—who wasn’t supposed to be able to have kids—became pregnant. During her fourth month, she was stabbed on her way home from her job at the hospital by a deranged homeless man. She lost the baby, but a year later, was with child again.
    Wanting out of the city, Willows applied for jobs around the state and got one with the Manteo police. Though their tragedies were different, Hale and Willows both moved to the island for the same reason—to leave the city life behind. Hale liked Willows a lot. He was good police and an even better person.
    Hale put his coffee down without taking a sip. His stomach was suddenly in knots. Willows slowly shook his head. Whatever was about to come out of the man’s mouth wasn’t going to be good and most likely involved the missing boy.
    â€œSir, it’s the Brown residence,” Willows said. “It’s awful.”
    â€œThey found the boy?”
    â€œNo. There’s been a double murder.”
    Twenty minutes later, Hale was standing next to Willows in the Brown residence and staring at the grisly crime scene. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought a bomb had gone off in a room full of people. There was so much carnage. The sharp scent of copper and the pungent smell of human waste were overwhelming. They hung in the air like a thick fog. Whenever he swallowed, he swore he could taste them.
    The Crime Scene Unit was en route from the mainland. Only Darrell Mitzer, the first officer on the scene, had entered the room to look for survivors. He was smart enough to have left his shoes outside the bedroom door—the soles caked with blood and pieces of Mr. and Mrs. Brown—before he flew downstairs and made it to the front steps where he puked.
    There wasn’t much left of the couple. From the doorway, Hale saw two large pools of blood, guessing each one was where the bodies bled out. But then it appeared