| Short Story |
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Vincent Price’s Gallery
By Brian Barnett
“I’ve gotta get out of here. Sorry, guys. This is a bit to corny for me.”
Dane left his seat and shuffled to the end of the isle in the midnight theater.
He left a silver screen emblazoned with Vincent Price. Vincent implored the
theater to scream for their lives, for the Tingler was loose. Dane never
bought into the classic B-grade horror movies like his friends. He preferred a
higher class of horror as he put it.
He pulled up to a stop light and heard the sound of a child’s toy being
wound up with a key. Suddenly a man ran by and dropped a snake into Dane’
s lap. It appeared to be real, but when he grabbed it, it was mechanical. He
studied it in disbelief. Why would anyone want to throw it in the car with him?
He threw it aside and drove away. When he pulled into his subdivision, he
looked over and saw that the snake was gone from the passenger seat. It
must have fallen in the floorboard, he thought. He pulled into his driveway
and shut the car off. He reached into the floorboard to feel for the snake and
recoiled quickly. There were two oozing puncture wounds on his hand.
Dane threw the car door open and stumbled through the yard toward the
door. Everything was getting hazy. His legs were heavy and his head felt
numb. He fumbled with his keys and managed to open the door. He fell to the
living room floor and passed out when he reached for the phone.
A strange sound resonated within Danes head. The sound of laughter.
Vincent Price’s laughter. He saw a blurred image in the distance. He strained
himself to perceive a clearer image of the man himself, complete with his
pencil thin mustache and cigarette in hand. He smiled impishly.
“My friend, I am about to educate you on the true meaning of horror.”
Dane muttered as best as his numb lips would allow, “This has to be a
dream. You’re dead!”
Vincent smiled again, “Yes perhaps it is just a dream. Is all we see or seem,
but a dream within a dream?” His face hardened and faded again to
blackness.
Dane’s head swirled. Of course he would quote Edgar Allen Poe. This
certainly is a dream. I’ve seen too many Price movies, he thought.
Again an image came into focus. Up above, on a platform, was Vincent
again. He was wearing an executioner’s outfit. Directly above was a large
pendulum with a crescent blade inching closer with each swing. “Just scream
for me, Dane. Scream and this will all go away.”
Dane writhed to get away from his restraints. “It’s only a dream! This is not
happening!”
Vincent chuckled again and everything faded to black again.
Dane grew angry. “What’s this all about? Just because I hate your crappy
movies, you’re going to torture me into liking them? When I wake up, I’m
going to burn anything I own with your name on it.”
Vincent reappeared in a suit and tie. He was enormous this time. “No Dane,
I just enjoy torturing you. It makes no difference whether you like my movies
or not.”
Dane tried to move again, but could not. He looked around and noticed he
was trapped in a spider web. A giant black spider inched closer. “Okay fine.
Your movies are scary.”
“I am not convinced, my dear boy. You are going to have to scream for me.”
“Not on your life, old man.” Dane could not help but to feel a wave of fear
wash over him when he saw the spider. “Besides, pretty soon I’ll be awake
and this will all be over.”
“Oh, it will all be over soon- That I can assure you.” Again, Vincent faded to
black along with the spider and its web.
Dane felt heat. From where, he did not know, but he began to sweat.
Vincent reappeared in a wheelchair.
Vincent rose out of the wheelchair and ascended a staircase and to a
platform above Dane. “You have one last chance, Dane. If you scream for
me, this will all be over.”
“I would be more inclined to scream at a Care Bear movie.”
Vincent’s face tightened and then a smile softened it again. “Suit yourself,
my friend.”
Vincent pulled a lever and gallons of boiling wax splashed over Dane. Dane
attempted to scream in pain, but was muffled by the sheer volume of liquefied
dummy wax. Vincent mockingly cupped his ear and acted as if he
sympathetically strained to hear any screaming.
Everything began to go black again for Dane. He knew it was permanent
this time. He could scarcely make out Vincent’s iconic cackle as the last
image Dane saw of Vincent’s wicked glare was burned into his boiling retinas.
Dane is another permanent fixture in Vincent Price’s gallery now.
###
By Brian Barnett
“I’ve gotta get out of here. Sorry, guys. This is a bit to corny for me.”
Dane left his seat and shuffled to the end of the isle in the midnight theater.
He left a silver screen emblazoned with Vincent Price. Vincent implored the
theater to scream for their lives, for the Tingler was loose. Dane never
bought into the classic B-grade horror movies like his friends. He preferred a
higher class of horror as he put it.
He pulled up to a stop light and heard the sound of a child’s toy being
wound up with a key. Suddenly a man ran by and dropped a snake into Dane’
s lap. It appeared to be real, but when he grabbed it, it was mechanical. He
studied it in disbelief. Why would anyone want to throw it in the car with him?
He threw it aside and drove away. When he pulled into his subdivision, he
looked over and saw that the snake was gone from the passenger seat. It
must have fallen in the floorboard, he thought. He pulled into his driveway
and shut the car off. He reached into the floorboard to feel for the snake and
recoiled quickly. There were two oozing puncture wounds on his hand.
Dane threw the car door open and stumbled through the yard toward the
door. Everything was getting hazy. His legs were heavy and his head felt
numb. He fumbled with his keys and managed to open the door. He fell to the
living room floor and passed out when he reached for the phone.
A strange sound resonated within Danes head. The sound of laughter.
Vincent Price’s laughter. He saw a blurred image in the distance. He strained
himself to perceive a clearer image of the man himself, complete with his
pencil thin mustache and cigarette in hand. He smiled impishly.
“My friend, I am about to educate you on the true meaning of horror.”
Dane muttered as best as his numb lips would allow, “This has to be a
dream. You’re dead!”
Vincent smiled again, “Yes perhaps it is just a dream. Is all we see or seem,
but a dream within a dream?” His face hardened and faded again to
blackness.
Dane’s head swirled. Of course he would quote Edgar Allen Poe. This
certainly is a dream. I’ve seen too many Price movies, he thought.
Again an image came into focus. Up above, on a platform, was Vincent
again. He was wearing an executioner’s outfit. Directly above was a large
pendulum with a crescent blade inching closer with each swing. “Just scream
for me, Dane. Scream and this will all go away.”
Dane writhed to get away from his restraints. “It’s only a dream! This is not
happening!”
Vincent chuckled again and everything faded to black again.
Dane grew angry. “What’s this all about? Just because I hate your crappy
movies, you’re going to torture me into liking them? When I wake up, I’m
going to burn anything I own with your name on it.”
Vincent reappeared in a suit and tie. He was enormous this time. “No Dane,
I just enjoy torturing you. It makes no difference whether you like my movies
or not.”
Dane tried to move again, but could not. He looked around and noticed he
was trapped in a spider web. A giant black spider inched closer. “Okay fine.
Your movies are scary.”
“I am not convinced, my dear boy. You are going to have to scream for me.”
“Not on your life, old man.” Dane could not help but to feel a wave of fear
wash over him when he saw the spider. “Besides, pretty soon I’ll be awake
and this will all be over.”
“Oh, it will all be over soon- That I can assure you.” Again, Vincent faded to
black along with the spider and its web.
Dane felt heat. From where, he did not know, but he began to sweat.
Vincent reappeared in a wheelchair.
Vincent rose out of the wheelchair and ascended a staircase and to a
platform above Dane. “You have one last chance, Dane. If you scream for
me, this will all be over.”
“I would be more inclined to scream at a Care Bear movie.”
Vincent’s face tightened and then a smile softened it again. “Suit yourself,
my friend.”
Vincent pulled a lever and gallons of boiling wax splashed over Dane. Dane
attempted to scream in pain, but was muffled by the sheer volume of liquefied
dummy wax. Vincent mockingly cupped his ear and acted as if he
sympathetically strained to hear any screaming.
Everything began to go black again for Dane. He knew it was permanent
this time. He could scarcely make out Vincent’s iconic cackle as the last
image Dane saw of Vincent’s wicked glare was burned into his boiling retinas.
Dane is another permanent fixture in Vincent Price’s gallery now.
###
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