The Harbingers (Halloween Horror Entry - Horror - Reader Discretion Advised)

The dark of night, had crept ever further into the lingering twilight, encroaching on the early evening. The cover they had been waiting for, had set in. Tonight belonged to the harbingers.

The front door swung shut behind her, washing a last draft of warm air out into the night. Grace hugged her coat against her, her fingers finding their way into the buttoned pockets. The streetlights adulterated the blanket of dark; forcing their spotlights of supposed sanctuary periodically along the footpath. She pulled her hood up against the biting air, her breath ghosting in the cold.

The hard knot of anger in her stomach curdled with the fizzing pain of nerves. For six long years, it has burnt and bubbled inside her, boiling down to its purest essence. The refined rot, the searing memories she had pushed away, like everyone seemed to think she should.

Everyone, except Krissie.

---

It was three years ago Grace had met her, handing out ‘Roofie Proofie’ cup covers to girls at a festival.

Grace had met militant feminists before, extremists, fighting for their own preference in inequality, but that wasn’t Krissie. Krissie was a considerably more dangerous form of terrorist. She was reasonable.

It was the placards that had caught Grace’s attention back then. Five simple words, that brought a drunk and wobbly Grace to tears.

“Assault is never your fault!”

---

The first meeting had been a week later. She’d sat in the corner of the ladies only bar, wondering how many of the other patrons, eyes darting over to her, were there for the same reason.

Most arrived alone, hunched figures shuffling into the small dim bar. Eyes downcast, hands rammed into the pockets, faces sinking into scarves. All were too used to trying to disappear into the background.

It was another half an hour before Krissie had got there, sauntering through the door with her palpable confidence. Grace felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck as emotion bristled through the room.

Krissie had cut through the crowd, making her way to the middle, a small circle forming around her, the clear passion of her voice filled the air.

“We are here today, because we need change. Change that is taking too long. Women have fought with every generation. We have protested, laid our lives down for our right to vote. We have worked, toiled for a pittance of what a man is worth, for the right to work. We have marched in the streets. We have risen through the ranks. We have proved ourselves again and again. Throughout history, women have struggled under the yoke of man’s expectation. Of his entitlement! Of his self-appointed authority! And now, now we stand toe to toe with the men who held us down. And still, still they try to bend us over, to force their will, and themselves, on us!”

She paused, spitting with disgust.

“Today, the torch passes to us, and I ask those of you here today, will you pick up that beacon? Will you come together with me to light a fire those subhumans won’t be able to ignore?!”

Fists shot into the air, thrown up with the bellow that erupted through the room. Krissie waited for the rumble to die down, nodding with appreciation at the growing rage.

“Those few, despicable, small minded men, those who take what we have, and call it their own! Who have the audacity to call getting drunk, consent! That have the stupidity to think they can say what they want. That it’s their right, have finally gone too far! They stood on their platforms, and tried to tell us it was our fault. That we were asking for it. If we didn’t want to get assaulted, why did we go to the party? If we weren’t black out drunk, why wouldn’t we remember the sweaty, filthy details of what they did to us? Are we just going to accept that?!”

The visible anger sparked in the crowded bar, intensifying as it bounced from one to another. Krissie let the shouts simmer for a moment, before raising her hand, bringing an expectant hush across the room.

“They take every opportunity to tear us down, to belittle and discredit us, in a vain attempt to detract from what they’ve done. Because they know full well what they’ve done! This has gone too far, and we say no more! But this isn’t about revenge. We have a responsibility, not just to those who came before us, those who dedicated their lives, but to our daughters. To those yet to come! Many victories have been won, we have come a long way, together, it has taken centuries to get us to this point, it has been long enough.”

Her green eyes shone with the same fire Grace had seen on that first day, an inextinguishable spark of passion, burning beneath amber hair.

“My daughter will grow up in a world where she doesn’t have to cover her drink, to watch it at all times, in case someone thinks it’s their right to assault her. She’ll never be shamed by anyone, man or woman, for speaking up. Because today, today we come together to pledge to build a world where she will never have anything to speak up about. A world where no abuser will feel safe enough to take what he wants! A world in which every one of them will know their word will never again be taken over that of ‘a girl at a party’ ever again!"

The cheer of agreement that filled the small bar cracked with the emotion of personal experience.

"We have been rational, we have been reasonable, and patient! We have been to them with policies, and proposals. We have been to them behind closed doors, and there, they disregarded us. We have destroyed our own lives to bring their deeds to light, and in that moment, the monsters came out of the shadows, standing in support of each other. That, my fellow freedom fighters, is where they made their very last mistake! Because now, now we know who’s been covering for them all along! We’ve tried to solve this peacefully, but they have left us no alternative! They must learn to fear what they’ve done to us, the same way they tried to make us fear them! We will make them pay a price, a price in flesh and blood, that will not be forgotten!!”

Feet hammered onto the floorboards, voices raised together in a united, unrestrained roar.

“We do this for our mothers! For their mothers! We do this for our sisters! For ourselves! For every single woman who was too scared to come here tonight, for every single woman who couldn’t deal with the shame and gave up...”

Krissie paused, looking into the eyes of those around her.

“... we do this for all that we have endured, that we vow today to never endure again! But, most of all, we do this for our daughters! The sacrifice we make, will be for the greater good! We will send a message that they can’t ignore! One that will echo through the pages of history... Never! Again!”

Grace was not alone in joining the movement that night, every single woman there had filled out the contact form.

---

Tonight had been a long time coming. A crisp, clear, moonless night that seemed to resonate with the electricity she felt. Tonight, there would finally be change.

The targets had been painstakingly selected. Krissie had made it very clear it wasn’t about personal revenge, it was about a greater justice. They weren’t the men who’d hurt Grace, or any of them for that matter. They were far worse; public figures who flaunted their assaults like conquests, smirking as they lied their way out of it.

Grace felt the familiar vitriol rising inside her, coursing hot through her veins as she waited on the main road. Lex was driving them, the three women from her town. Every headlight flashed through Grace in fiery expectation as she waited. The anticipation, wrapped in rage, held a giddy rush that engulfed her.

Two other cars met Grace, Daisy and Lex outside the metal gates of his house. He was a real piece of work, rising up through the police, using his rank to bully his victims. Three women had come forward, and they were taken seriously at first. Until the phrase “village bike” had been spray painted on one of their garage doors. It only got worse from there.

Krissie had told them to wait until 8pm, that everyone must strike their target at once.

The loud tick of Grace’s watch jarred in the night air. Seven other women had met them there, and sticking to the bushes, beyond the security cameras, they waited.

---

It hadn’t been hard getting inside the fence. The security guard had a ‘family emergency’ - his wife had been one of the trickier recruits Krissie had pulled off. They had slipped through a panel twisted by branches, a line of figures, single file, clad in black, steadily crossing the lawn. The harbingers of equilibrium.

Daisy opened the door, pushing the putty into the cracks of the frame, buckling the entrance in a cracking explosion of splinting wood.

He came running, rushing to the door in time to see it fall in towards him.

Horror flashed across his face as the ten hooded women calmly walked into his house, moving towards him. He didn’t recognise any of them, he didn’t need to, to know why they were there.

He backed away, knocking a glass lamp off a table and jumping at the shatter.

Hands outstretched, they closed in on him, surrounding him, up against the wall of the hall. Fingers grabbed his limbs, tips sinking into his flesh as he whimpered, his whining pleading lost to them.

Grace had hung back, loading a small coil-spring jaw trap.

His yellow face turned a shade of green, then flushed to hot panicked red, as he saw the glinting steel teeth in her approaching hands.

No one spoke to interrupt his begging, although a distant television laughed appropriately as a dark patch spread across his crotch.

Grace stood square before the restrained man, bringing her face in front of his as she held the gaping trap inches from his groin. She hadn’t noticed when he had started sobbing, but his hot waves of gasped breath washed over her face.

She pushed the trap against him, the crinkle of his trousers touching the sensitive plate. Jagged jaws snapped shut, sinking into the genitals of the howling man.

Blood poured down his legs, washing into the pool of urine on the stone floor. He sagged a little from the pain, sinking into the combined grip of the women supporting him by his limbs.

Letting go of the trap, Grace seized his right leg.

She didn’t know the two women who stood next to her. She might have seen them at meetings, but as she stood alongside them, she felt a sense of kinship bubbling within her. Grace knew it had to be extreme, to send a message that would never be forgot, they all did.

Pulling his arms and legs, they stretched his screaming body. He writhed, contorting in agony as they tugged his limbs away from him.

The left arm went first. A jarring pop as it left its socket, the main connection to the body broken. The other limbs followed, dislocating with the succession of popcorn.

His body lolled, malformed as the skin and flesh, the connective tissue, twisted against the pull.

The puff of wet tearing, was almost lost in his horse, groaned cries.
The soft tissue tensed and teased. Pale skin staining red as it split, breaking apart like the juicy jewels in an orange segment. In the opening gap, strings of tendons hung on to the body; disintegrating in resonating snaps as the individual fibres gave way.

Grace staggered back, falling into the women behind her as the man’s leg came away.

The hot wet blood soaked into her as she clutched the dismembered limb, unable to relinquish her grip.

It was a moment before she realised she was sat on the floor. Grace glanced around, the other woman, their anger, their rage dissipating in pooling blood, still sat where they fell when the limbs snapped free.

The blood dribbled from the torn stumps of the man’s torso, his lips moving as he tried to mouth something.

A sense of accomplishment settled in the room, what they had done was not easy, it was not pleasant, but they knew it had been necessary. They had done what a justice system could not. They, and hundreds of others that night, had sent a message that would never be forgotten.

---

Ten women, clad in heavy, stained, black, walked out of the front door. The harbingers of equality.

This isn't the story I planned to tell with this prompt, but I got a bit inspired by some of @dirge's posts on recent events. It was an interesting one to write, and plenty of fun to envision! Would have liked to give it another edit, but the deadline calls (that said, @dirge a critique would still be greatly appreciated for future edits). This got a bit extreme at points, but I hope the two parts balance each other and it isn't too much.

This is my entry to @dirge's Halloween Horror Contest these don't come up very often, but they are definitely worth it when they do!

Photo Credit by Pixabay User flegmatik95 who has a small selection of prime for horror/halloween

Thank you for stopping by and making it all the way to the end

Love and Sparkle ~ Calluna