The Ladies of Horror
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The Choirmaster 
by Elaine Pascale

Their parents had painstakingly crafted the costumes for the Halloween musical. Cats, bats, crows, and owls. Instructions were vague but the labor was large.

Invitations to the musical had been brought home in backpacks, mailed to members of the Booster’s club, and left in hymnals at three different denominations. Everyone planned to attend and the children practiced as if their lives depended on it.

The most difficult song was the last one. That was because it was in a language none of the children had ever heard before. The choirmaster encouraged the children to stretch their tongues and purse their lips, making their mouths nimble for foreign words.

“Brexla, vonapta, mirima, exundi,” the children chanted to the sporadic rhythm of the bone pipes, lithophones, and rattles.

“As if your lives depend on it,” the choirmaster instructed, boisterously repeating the words as he swung his hands in time to the music. He was the only one who seemed to understand the chaotic beat.

He wore a mask that looked like a plucked vulture head. His breastplate resembled a skeleton made of feathers. He had been recently assigned to this position. The former choirmaster had disappeared following the back-to-school program. This new choirmaster had entered with an energy that was admirable. He was so invested in the Halloween musical that no one had ever seen him without his costume.

“Brexla, vonapta, mirima, exundi,” the children chanted on the night of the production to a full house. It was standing room only. Even childless adults attended, due to the buzz surrounding the musical.

“Brexla, vonapta, mirima, exundi,” the children said over and over and the adults in the audience slipped into a deep sleep.

The choirmaster slipped from behind the podium and walked through the auditorium, taking money and jewelry from the slumbering adults.

“When will they wake up?” the child in the black cat costume asked.

The choirmaster shrugged. “I’ve never stayed around long enough to find out.”

“Why didn’t you fall asleep?” the child in the crow costume asked.

“Because I am not an adult,” the choirmaster said, tapping his mask with his fake vulture claw. “I mean, I am not an adult human.”

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Fiction © Copyright Elaine Pascale
Image courtesy of Pixaby.com

More from Elaine Pascale:

The Kitchen Witches

The women of Cape Cod have a story that is dying to be told. If only they could live long enough to tell it.

When Fiona Walker is contracted to write about a party attended by her social circle, her friends begin dying. She captures the competition and misery of the women around her through three different stories.

In Wishes, Melanie Voss discovers a Time Between Time where nothing that happens counts. Initially, Time Between Time is a welcome escape from a life spent watching the clock while doing chores for her family. But something sinister is in the Time Between Time and it is headed straight for Melanie.

Death and Taxes tells the story of Nashville DeCota, the Cape Capo. Nash swears that she is not the Island Impaler, nor the Tooth Snatcher, but she has just as many skeletons in her closet. When her husband, Derrick, is kidnapped, she has to come clean about her crimes if she ever wants to see him again.

Fiona tells her own story in Hazing, where she finds that the real source of evil behind the deaths of her friends is worse than she could have ever imagined.

Available on Amazon!