Doctor Howler believes his Nightmares are suitable for children of all ages and should be told to them right after they are tucked tightly in bed. After reading his Nightmare, you may have a slightly different opinion than the good doctor.


*****************************************************************************************
*****************************************************************************************


Greetings my little kid-a-roos!

It is I, Doctor I.B. Howler, Nightmareologist, with my newest tale about a not so good samaritan and a river. Enjoy!

Brandon Barber sat alone on the bank of the isolated Reninger River. In his hand he held his stainless-steel magnum pistol with its precision grade barrel. The chamber of the weapon was empty because the halfwit failed to load its bullets that morning. Brandon noticed three large bull alligators in a pod drifted toward a woman sunbathing on a boulder in the middle of the estuary. He thought this peculiar because he knew large alligators preferred to roam alone.

Infatuated with the work of art he observed there, though he did not know her, the PTSD sufferer cupped his calloused hands to his reversed boat-shaped mouth. His big, dark red, upper lip, with its downward corners, protruded. Brandon's mouth reflected his pessimistic attitude, jitters, and most of all his lack of confidence.

In broken Spanish, he said to the woman, "Regreso enseguida!" This meant he would be right back.

He turned tail and raced at dangerously fast breakneck speed into the marsh behind him. Its waterlogged soils slowed his footsteps. Brandon stripped off his pullover shirt that contained an imprint of Spongebob Squarepants on the front and fought his way through the large and dense colonies of saltmeadow cordgrass.

Ants pulverized under his bare feet as Brandon took each forward stride. He located his target, a deceased fawn he'd spotted earlier that morning on his daily jog. Brandon realized the danger right away. Hordes of ants awaited his every movement.

"Holy crap, does this thing smell!" Brandon said out loud.

He grabbed the fawn by its tramp, right at the tip of its toe, and felt the thick keratin covering the appendage. Using his shirt, Brandon slapped ants away from its contorted hoof. With gusto, he started to drag the partially devoured carcass back to the river. If a portion of the fawn's entrails had not already been eaten away, Brandon would have been too wimpy to move the cadaver.

The barbaric legion of ants chased Brandon. He witnessed their formation shifted, and their densely-packed throng increased, as their army of warriors received new battle plans to deal with his intrusion. Some scaled Brandon's arms. Hurly-burly, he cuffed them off. A few remained. Their attacks made Brandon's arms ache. The pain did not faze him. Machocistic, he enjoyed the afflictions.

Brandon had one distinct advantage over his stalkers; long, gangly legs that moved forward with loose-jointed abandonment. When Brandon picked them up and put them down in galloping succession, he soon outdistanced his predators.

Coasting easy without expending much effort, the alligators swam pirouettes around the woman perched on the boulder in the middle of the river. Occasionally, their elongated snouts brushed the rock before they backed away. Brandon thought they looked like bouncing rubber balls. The kind he'd seen on Romper Room as a child. He wondered when one would make a strike at the woman. He knew it could occur at any moment.

Quickstepping, Brandon scurried to the nearest bank of the river and said, "Dinnertime, doofuses!"

He heave-hoed the remains of the fawn into the river. It landed in the boggy water. The alligators turned when they heard the yearling splash down in the loch.

"Swim to me. You have no other options," Brandon said.

The woman looked at the feasting trilogy of aggressive alligators upriver.

"Dive in the water!"

She thrust herself away from the boulder she roosted on. Her arms splashed the water with effort and her kicking feet threshed about wildly.

"So, you're not a good swimmer, mademoiselle? Hurry up, will you? We don't have all day. Those alligators could come any time."

Brandon applauded approval when she reached the river's bank. She stumbled up the embankment and fell on her face. Her awkward antics caused Brandon to chortle a gleeful laugh. He snared her hand, and with sudden violence, almost wrenched her arm off dragging her to a defoliated meadow.

"Stop it, you're hurting me!" she said.

The polished blade of a large hunting knife flashed in the sunlight. The woman quickly noticed its sharp, curved tip and how the handle of the weapon fit firm in Brandon's hand.

"I'm going to do so much more than hurt you, and, I'm going to start by amputating your breasts!"

For some reason the pretty woman's well defined cheekbones, and the tapered chin of her diamond-shaped face, made Brandon think of Tyra Banks. He remembered she was the first African-American television personality featured on his favorite Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Issue magazine.

A violent primal scream incorporating expressed anger reverberated several times as a mass of black fur blasted out of the marsh reeds. The monstrous beast rose erect. Balancing its weight on its heels, the primate pounded on its massive chest with two fists of rage. The sound crescendoed as he squawked, "Hheeaagghh! Hheeaagghh! Hheeaagghh!"

Her legs wood stiff, the woman shuddered in awe of the screeching simian. Panic-stricken, she stumbled back and trembled as she lost her balance. Tears cascaded down her face. She pled, "NO! Please! Don't hurt me!"

"Dominic, the pleasure is all yours. Have at her," Brandon said. He turned to the woman and encoraged, "Run. It's your only chance."

He knew ferociously territorial simians often killed over boundary disputes. Here, on the grassy knoll of the swift Reninger River, had Dominic somehow perceived the strange woman a menace to eliminate? Loud thumps resounded in Dominic's head. His contracted heartbeat raged as his blood-red eyes locked on his target. Bile rose in the back of his throat.

Dominic slammed his arm into the woman's head. The powerful blow shattered her skull. He bit into her face. His sharp canine teeth penetrated her flesh. Blood spouted from where her nose had been. Dominic ripped the woman's arms from her body and launched them like projectiles deep into the marsh. Brandon remained a safe distance in the background and cheered his foray on. Finally, Dominic severed the woman's legs leaving her torso where it laid.

Brandon understood the woman would have only survived if Dominic chose to allow her the mercy. Staring him in the eyes had been one of her fatal mistakes. Attempting to run away from him, another.

"You go hide in the marsh until our next victim comes along. I think I see someone walking this way in the distance," Brandon said.

Brandon Barber sat alone on the bank of the isolated Reninger River...and waited.

Until the next time.

Toodeloo my little kid-a-roos,

Doctor I. B. Howler, Nightmareologist