Her Infernal Name & Other Nightmares Read online

  Praise for

  Her Infernal Name & Other Nightmares

  “A bold, new voice in dark fiction, Robert Ottone breathes genuine life into the stories collected in Her Infernal Name with vivid characters, deft plot twists, skin-crawling creatures, and weird supernatural entities that will haunt readers long after the story ends.”

  James Chambers

  Bram Stoker Award-winning author of On the Night Border

  “Ottone hits every mark of a genre-bending writer at the top of his game. The subtle build of each story, the rich and dark depth of each character, and the imagery so sharply brought to life, it left me both terrified for humanity and hopeful for a brighter tomorrow. Whoever says horror can't be beautiful has clearly not read this book.”

  Ryan Sprague

  Author & host of the Somewhere in the Skies book and podcast

  “Rob Ottone is a talented writer with a cinematic imagination and a fine ear for dialogue. His dark stories have charm, originality, and an understated humor, and his dialogue is just about word-perfect.”

  Josh Gidding

  Author of Failure: An Autobiography (Cyan, 2007)

  “I like when people can take established horror tropes and just change them slightly this way or that and it feels like a completely new and fresh thing.”

  Julian Titus

  Host and producer, Nerds without Pants podcast

  “Rob Ottone brings his characters to life in a way few others do. That is before he kills them. Thrills, chills, laughs. A spooky house of fun.”

  Allan Burd

  Author of the Roswell Protocols; All Hell; Blood Cold; and Hellion

  “Infertility, gluttony, technological obsession, fear for the future: topics disparate yet with hidden thematic links. In Her Infernal Name & Other Nightmares, Rob Ottone pulls at the thread of terror that runs through these themes and allows the stories within to unravel in the reader’s mind, leaving a resounding sense of horror unlike any other. Enter the mind of Rob Ottone, and allow the terrors therein to plague, haunt, and change you.”

  Gavin Gardiner

  Author of The Last Testament of Crighton Smythe

  “Rob Ottone’s skillfully imagined dark stories are firmly ensconced in a world we all recognize. Places where people expect to enjoy a better life, only to run into the harsh reality of horrors lurking around every corner. A true storyteller’s collection!”

  Lou Rera

  Author of Sign (2014) and Awake: Tales of Terror (2020)

  “This new collection by Rob Ottone showcases the author's imagination, as well as his imagistic writing style. It provides readers with a diverse collection of spooky, creepy, and thought-provoking stories, (there's even a bit of inspiration thrown into the mix). Recommended for reading on your own, or aloud while sitting around the campfire.”

  Kimberly Poppiti, PhD

  St. Joseph’s College, NY

  Her Infernal Name

  & Other Nightmares

  Robert P. Ottone

  Edited by Louis Maurici

  Spooky House Press

  Copyright © 2020 by Robert P. Ottone

  Her Infernal Name & Other Nightmares © 2020 by Robert P. Ottone

  First Edition

  Published by Spooky House Press

  www.spookyhousepress.com

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No

  part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,

  or transmitted in any form or by any means, including but not

  limited to electronic, electrostatic, magnetic, tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without permission from the publisher.

  “Support” originally published in Blood Moon Rising Magazine, vol. 78

  Cover art © 2020 by Sami Ahmed

  Cover design by Sami Ahmed

  Scan this QR code for a Spotify playlist of songs curated by the author.

  ISBN: 978-1-7340445-3-9 (Paperback)

  ISBN: 978-1-7340445-4-6 (Ebook)

  For dad, always.

  Acknowledgments

  This is my first time writing an acknowledgments page, so bear with me.

  To begin, this book couldn’t have been written without the guidance and skill of Louis Maurici, my editorial Sherpa. His notes and enthusiasm are invaluable, and he’s a heavenuva guy.

  I’d be remiss if I didn’t thank the Sand Sharks. James, Frank, Lou, John, Allan. What was easily one of the scariest things I ever considered doing has turned into a monthly gathering I actively look forward to. Thank you all.

  I’d like to thank my beta readers Ashley and Amanda for giving me different feminine perspectives on a character I didn’t want defined by her femininity.

  Thank you to everyone who bought my first book. The reactions from so many inspired me to continue, and for that I’m grateful.

  To the janitorial staff at the middle school I worked at that did nothing about the gnats infesting the teacher’s lounge, you’ll know which story is for you.

  To my niece and nephew, I adore you both.

  Contents

  Her Infernal Name

  The Monitors

  Elevator of the Dead

  Kelly, Watch the Stars

  Full Understanding

  Green Gospel

  The Sugar Bowl

  Panels

  Support

  The Arborist

  You Can’t Walk It Back

  The Nebulous They

  Apple Valley

  Playing God

  Gnats in the Teacher’s Lounge

  The World Whispers Madness

  The Final Goodbye

  Miscellaneous Ephemera

  Her Infernal Name

  Shoshana graduated early, earning her four-year degree in only three by taking multiple summer and winter classes. She received her master’s degree in education, and started teaching high school social studies. When Shosh (as her friends called her) went to work for a large public school in Queens, she found herself nearly able to make ends meet. Her salary was barely $60,000 per year, nowhere near enough to afford her the life of leisure and excitement she saw on TV and on Instagram and Snapchat. Shosh was a hard worker and smart as a whip, but she couldn’t figure out how young teachers were expected to make it in New York, especially New York City. Administration was surely making six figures, but they had been teaching for a long time, and they deserved it, right?

  Shosh was barely able to make ends meet between her college loans, rent, car payment, car insurance, utilities, and other expenses. She was lucky if she found herself with an extra hundred dollars per month, all said and done. Living in the city had always been expensive, and even though she never saw her roommate, Shosh wondered if she should get a second job. When she finally did, picking up a couple extra shifts as a bartender at the terrible biker bar down the street, Shosh was pulling in an extra couple hundred dollars per week, but even then, as quickly as she made it, it seemed to fly out the window just as fast.

  Her college repayment plan was structured in a way that, over time, her monthly payment would increase slightly. What started as $220 per month had ballooned to around $800, which was a lot for anyone to afford, let alone someone just starting out in the world. Shosh refused the help of her parents, who were having difficulties of their own, as the property taxes at their home on Long Island had shot past $18,000 per year, a kingly sum for such a small piece of property in Nassau County.

  Shosh didn’t know what to do, as all of her extra money was being poured into her college loan. Eventually, cutbacks at the school resulted in her being excessed, which is just a nice term for laid off, and even though Shos
h was able to collect unemployment for a time, the $400 per week wasn’t nearly enough for her to survive. With a few years of teaching under her belt, Shosh began seeking employment outside of education. Some smaller schools, mostly Charters, showed interest but ended up going with younger, newer candidates. They also paid about $10,000 less than what Shosh had been getting at her first teaching gig. After a bit of time, she found herself employed at a small marketing firm, one of those boutique places that afforded her more freedom, but also paid her about twenty thousand dollars less per year than she was making previously. She felt the sudden dip in salary immediately, and after numerous calls to her student loan servicers, she began receiving pieces of mail indicating that she was in collections for both her personal and federal loans. The company, Irwin Agencies, kept up a steady stream of mailings to her apartment, with each letter increasing how much her minimum payments had to be.

  In the little free time Shosh had, she found herself watching Instagram and YouTube videos, since all she and her roommate could afford was Internet service. They made a point to tell others that they were “cutting the cord” in an effort to stick it to the cable companies, but the reality was that they just couldn’t afford television any longer. Shosh found herself watching makeup tutorials, listening to teenaged Instagram influencers discuss the injustices of the world, and absorbing as many reaction videos as possible, all featuring thumbnails of well-maintained people with expressions far too excited or scared to be reacting to whatever it was they were reacting to. They couldn’t possibly be making those faces in reality, could they? she often thought to herself.

  A particular favorite influencer of Shosh’s was a girl named Royce who lived in Manhattan and seemingly never stopped partying. It was the kind of life Shosh envisioned for herself upon graduating from school. She worked her ass off in college, but since graduating, she didn’t have a lot of time for fun. Watching Royce allowed her to live vicariously through this young girl, who couldn’t have been older than fifteen. Royce had a legion of friends and fans around her at all times and was always at movie premieres, record release parties, concerts, on vacation in various tropical countries, and more.

  Royce had become something of a “wellness guru,” often featuring recipes and other “healthy” pieces of advice that were geared toward nurturing the body. With a heavily female focus, Royce seemed poised to take her social media influence and to transition into one of those talking heads you see on daytime television, discussing the latest trends in healthy eating or espousing the benefits of kale. Royce always had an “obsession,” something she dedicated multiple posts to, often with the hashtag #RoyceObsessed, and typically, it was some kind of natural oil or product, mostly paid advertisements.

  In a few videos, Royce featured a fertility expert talking about the benefits of eating apples, far beyond the traditional apple a day to keep the doctor away, as well as maca root (which Shosh had never heard of), coconut oil (which Shosh slathered herself in every morning, post-shower), and the benefits of eating something called crappit heid, which Shosh refused to eat based solely on the name alone. When she finally looked the strange-sounding remedy up, she nearly puked, but in a follow-up video, watching Royce and the fertility expert (whose name was Abda, because of course) enjoy slipping pieces into their mouths, Shosh’s interest was piqued, but she was never brave enough to give it a go.

  One evening, Shosh went back to Royce’s first ever upload, among the thousands, and found that the uploads dated back to when Royce was twelve. Her first ever video had received ten million views, and her average views per video hovered somewhere around the 25 to 32 million range. This seemed insanely high, but Shosh was impressed. Royce happened to be a pretty girl, youthful in appearance, with a strong anime-inspired aesthetic. Her hair color changed with almost every video, and she was decidedly pale compared to your average person. Royce’s body was also remarkably developed for a girl her age, something Shosh thought was just part of growing up these days. Shosh’s own body was nowhere near as developed as Royce’s, so she thought maybe the kid was just blessed with great genetics.

  Royce’s early videos were covers of popular songs, as well as her thoughts on school and what she was doing that weekend. At twelve, Royce didn’t have much going on outside of her friends (who never appeared in the early videos), her parents, and her lo-fidelity covers of Sia tracks. Royce in the beginning wasn’t the anime character come-to-life she was now. She was a simple girl with brown hair, sad eyes, and a pretty voice.

  Unable to make the full amount per payment that Irwin Agencies was demanding, Shosh called them, begging to be put on some kind of smaller repayment plan. Shosh’s debt had begun to grow, courtesy of interest and more, resulting in a remarkably high debt-to-income ratio. While on the phone, Shosh felt as though the agent she was speaking to was in a tunnel, the voice slightly echoing as it spoke. Shosh also heard a low hum in the background, rhythmic, sounding more mechanical than static.

  “We’re happy to work with you, Shoshana. In certain circumstances, we can send an agent to better assist you in-person to go over options once we research your particular case,” the agent on the phone told her. “In the meantime, we’ll put your loan on hold for a financial quarter. Interest will continue to accrue, but you won’t need to make payments in the meantime. That way, our team can put together a few options for you, and you can help by getting your financial affairs in order. Is the address we have on file for you in Brooklyn correct?”

  ***

  After about a week, Shoshana was returning home from a four-hour shift at the bar, after having already worked ten hours at the office (with no overtime pay), when she found a tall man standing outside her building, holding a briefcase. He introduced himself as Gary from Irwin Agencies, and when Shosh asked how long he’d been waiting in the area, he informed her that Irwin takes their accounts very seriously, and that he was happy to come by later at night, knowing her work schedule.

  Even though that didn’t answer her question, Shosh welcomed the agent into the apartment, and once inside, she poured herself some coffee, as well as some for him. He reviewed her repayment options, as well as potential options for her to make more money, through a variety of additional revenue streams. Shosh informed him that she already had two jobs, and he nodded, saying “Yes, yes, I see.”

  “Are you familiar with our client named Royce? She’s a YouTuber, pretty famous,” he asked.

  “Sure, yeah, I watch her stuff sometimes,” Shosh lied, ashamed that she was secretly obsessed with this child of the Internet.

  “She does promotion for us at a variety of events through our parent company.” He produced a card that highlighted the parent company, a massive New York-based corporate entity known to have its tendrils in a variety of enterprises. “She’s always looking for good help. You’re a smart girl, Shoshana. I could possibly make a few calls and see if she’d be interested in bringing you onto her staff.”

  “What would I be doing?”

  He shrugged. “You’d effectively be her tutor among other assorted duties. She’s home-schooled. You’d make more than you do currently, that’s for sure. Our previous placements with our clients typically saw their debt reduced either entirely or substantially in a year or two of work. That said, it will be very demanding of your time and energy.”

  Shosh nodded. “Yeah, I mean, if gets me out of debt, I’ll do it. Please let me know.”

  He smiled, shook Shosh’s hand, and left, after letting her know that he’d be in touch in a few days. Shosh wondered what this kid could need help with other than her education. Basic secretarial type work? Answering phones? Shosh had friends who worked as assistants to actors, lawyers, and more, so she imagined she’d be making reservations for Royce at a variety of restaurants, picking up her dry cleaning, cleaning her fancy penthouse apartment (which seemed always void of any parental figure), and other basic tasks not suitable for a star of her caliber to do herself.

  Jeez, making re
servations for a fifteen-year-old kid at restaurants I couldn’t afford on my best day, that seems fair, Shosh thought to herself.

  ***

  Time passed quickly, and finally the agent from Irwin called Shosh back. He had set up a time and day for Shosh to head to Royce’s apartment and meet with “her people” to discuss the position. Shosh obliged and used a sick day to head to the interview. The building Royce lived in was never mentioned in her videos, and even in accepting the interview, Shosh had to sign a non-disclosure agreement that would result in a multi-million dollar lawsuit were the information ever released to the public, with proof that Shosh had been the one to leak it. The building itself, a modern high-rise in Manhattan, the Balaam, featured spectacular views of the city, and impossibly high prices, the likes of which Shosh could never afford herself.

  In the elevator, the lights flickered quickly when Shosh pressed the button for the penthouse. As the elevator sped skyward, Shosh felt a sudden feeling of nausea and gripped the wall-rail to steady herself. She glanced at her reflection in the steel doors of the elevator, and thought about how she should’ve dressed cuter for the interview. She was wearing a black pencil skirt and a gray jacket. Comfortable, yes, but she knew that if Royce was actually at the interview she might judge her for not dressing funky enough, since Royce always had the latest, most stylish outfits, with hair to match.