April Hladis

a.k.a. Ah-ladis

Warning: I thought I’d list this first, just to get it out of the way. Cursing? Yes. Violence? Yes. Assault? Yes. Male or Female assault? Both.

So, do I still have your attention? Peachy! This short Halloween story is loosely based on a fairytale. Can you guess what it is? ;)


Many thanks to Steph for inviting me to create a story for the Academy’s Halloween Invitational and to Lariel for recommending me!

Questions? Comments? Send to:

It had been a bitch of a day. Melanie stepped into the big empty elevator and pushed the lobby button. Its doors slid shut. She leaned against the stainless steel handrail too tired to be mad at her lousy boss for making her stay till 7:30.

The elevator stopped between floors on its way down the dark shaft way.

"Do you have the exact time?" came a small voice behind her.

She was sure this car was empty when she entered it. Visibly shaken, Melanie slowly turned around. There stood a bald man holding a rather large gold pocket watch with its lid open. He smiled.

"I-I-I don’t have a watch, sir…" She nervously fumbled at her sleeves to prove it.

The stranger drew near.

"My name is not ‘sir’. Can you guess what it is?"

Melanie thought she could smell a strong, coppery odor as she shook her head. The slightly disheveled, unwelcome gentleman clucked his long thick tongue.

"Tisk, Tisk. That’s too bad."

Nearer he came as if to kiss her like they were old friends. His smile widened; his upper teeth were stained and perfectly chiseled to sharp points. Melanie backed herself up against the far end of the car; eyes dilated, unprepared for the encounter.

"Stay back! I know karate; I can hurt you! Do you want to get hurt?"


He quickly grabbed Melanie, ripping her blouse down and fixed his thick lips over her breast with cartoon-ish swiftness. A sharp stinging sensation almost made her swoon. Melanie thought for a moment that it felt like the night she went to Sharkey’s Tattoo Palace two years before. Though drunk off her face at the time, she felt every jab of the stylus piercing her tender skin. The intensifying pain soon brought her back to the here and now. Violently she struggled, clawing at him, trying to push him away. His hold on her breast just couldn’t be broken. She screamed with all her might hoping someone would save her, but no one was around to hear.

In a few moments Melanie’s thrashing slowed; her shrieks became a mere whisper. Her face whitened; the flesh flattened and sagged shapeless across her remains, emptied of all its blood. As the stranger drew back, he admired his handiwork. He held her limp, shrunken body as his dearly beloved. Bringing his face close to hers, he licked his engorged red lips and pressed them to her lifeless mouth, then let her fall out of his embrace. Noticing he’d let a few drops escape, he got down on all fours to lap up the scattered blood dots here and there on the elevator’s green floor tiles.

With a little burp the stranger stood up.

"Ahhhhh," he sighed, "delectable."

His vigor restored, the now robust gentleman bundled Melanie up with her belongings and disappeared.









Paul hurried out of his office forgetting to lock the door.


He ran back, practically stumbling over his own Capezio’d feet. He dropped his keys.

"Fucked up mother fuckin’ shit!"

Having locked the door this time, Paul hurried to take the elevator. He briefly thought about walking down the stairwell, but didn’t want to dirty up his expensive shoes. The down elevator came right away with a harsh ‘DING!’ when it got to his floor. He walked into the empty car and pressed the ‘B’ button that would take him to the underground garage. Having an office on the 17th floor had its advantages: a great view, peace from the busy street below and just enough time to indulge.

Paul took out his snakeskin wallet that held a very small Ziploc bag with white powder in it. He then pulled out a tiny spoon hiding inside the wallet’s lining. Looking at the shiny appliance he laughed to himself.

"I was born with a silver spoon in my nose!"

Skillfully scooping out the right amount without spilling a grain, Paul sniffed as hard as he could. In a flash he felt the drug’s desired effect.

"Oh, Yeah! Yeah!"

Paul pinched his nose then wiped it with the back of his hand. The elevator stopped between floors. A bald man holding an open pocket watch appeared behind him.

"Excuse me sir, do you have the exact time?"

Paul whipped around so fast he dropped his stash and spoon.

"What the fuck–!"

The man repeated himself cutting Paul off.

"Do you have the exact time?"

Sweat beaded on Paul’s upper lip; he quickly licked it away. His eyes darted around the elevator looking for a secret entranceway, not even realizing it had stopped moving.

"How the fuck did you get in here?"

The baldheaded gentleman bared his very yellow, very pointy teeth.

"Oh come on! You can’t pull no fucked up Vampire shit on me pal!"

The stranger stared at Paul and closed his watch. He stepped closer, his glassy eyes fixed squarely on his prey. Paul backed up, falling noisily against the back of the car.

"Hey, now wait a minute pal…"

"My name is not Pal," the man interjected, in a charming manner, "Can you guess what it is?"

The stranger continued to inch toward Paul.

"Listen, I don’t give a fuck what your fuckin’ name is! Come any closer and I’ll–*!"

In a flash the older man was on top of Paul locking his wet lips over his victim’s pulsating throat. At first, Paul almost fainted from the sensual touch of a cool tongue. The villain swept it now and then across his flesh in long languid streaks. Not even Paul’s girlfriend Val had this guy’s talent, and she was the best at tongue gymnastics he ever felt–till now.

Paul’s breathing came faster. The teasing was unbearable. No one could blame him for enjoying his attacker’s moist beast, or the added bonus of an insistent hand traveling down the back of his corduroys. Paul let out a blissful moan as the hand rudely fondled his ass.


Paul’s mind spun from the overload. His trembling body eagerly succumbed to this person’s will. He didn’t even mind right away when the caresses started to hurt, but before long he did. Paul grabbed at air as the stranger held him tight and sucked harder, drawing out a large helping of delicious blood. He kicked and bellowed though it didn’t last. Paul grew weaker, his life fading with a single word on his lips.


He lay dead, cradled in the baldheaded stranger’s arms. Paul’s murderer let him fall limply on the floor of the elevator. He wiped his lips in disgust.

"A tad bitter."

Paul’s body was quickly gathered up and taken away. He would be disposed of later, at the stranger’s leisure.











The sign hung crookedly outside a pair of wide-open elevator doors. The car’s lights were off and a strong odor of disinfectant filtered out, clinging to everything in the main floor lobby.

Dwayne, the manager’s son, energetically threw his miniature soccer ball against the lobby wall, happily enjoying the echo it made. The boy tossed his ball much too close to the elevator, bouncing it inside by accident. He immediately sprinted after his toy; the elevator doors shut behind him. Lights clicked on and the motor hummed as it gradually creaked up the shaft.

Dwayne tossed his little soccer ball against the elevator walls then its buttons, making them blink on and off. He giggled with delight throwing the ball at everything he couldn’t reach. The elevator dipped a bit as the cables shakily hauled its load up.

A somewhat disheveled, bald gentleman stood behind Dwayne, holding a rather large gold pocket watch with its lid open.

"Do you have the exact time, child?"

Dwayne turned, focusing his attention on the stranger’s Capezio shoes first then slowly looking up into the man’s coal black eyes.


The little boy dropped his ball to pull at a sleeve. On his dark pudgy wrist a large face watch tick-tocked as its purple host’s arms moved clockwise.

"Lookee Mister. It talks!"

Dwayne pressed one of two tiny buttons on his watch. A loud annoying voice sang out.


The little boy smiled at the stranger.


"I’m Dwayne. This is Barney," he said holding his wrist higher for the man to see, "I love Barney. What’s your name, Mister?"

The stranger glared down at Dwayne.

"Perhaps you’d like to guess what it is?"

Dwayne’s eyes wandered about the elevator’s beige walls as he thought. He’d asked his momma only days before about the word he saw written on a metal plate somewhere inside the elevator. She sounded out the word for him and said it was a man’s name. Now he was trying really hard to remember.

The stranger took a measured step toward the little boy. Suddenly, Dwayne spotted the elevator manufacturer’s metal plate riveted to one of the walls. He pointed straight at it.

"Otis?" Dwayne asked excitedly.

Otis gasped; a gargling sound rattled his throat. In an instant he dissolved into blackened vapor. His gold watch was all that was left of him.





Alone and bored, Dwayne tossed his ball against rows of pushbuttons. Eventually, the elevator arrived at the lobby after having to stop at every floor on its way down. The doors parted smoothly. Dwayne skipped out, bouncing his soccer ball in front of him. Dwayne’s mom rushed in from the chilly night air rubbing her hands together.

"Hi sweetness! Where’s daddy? Is he in the office?"

Not bothering to answer, since he didn’t know anyway, Dwayne ran to her all in a tizzy.

"Lookee momma, look what I found!"

He put his ball down and handed her a rather large gold pocket watch.