© 2025 Duleigh Lawrence-Townshend. All rights reserved. The author asserts the right to be identified as the author of this story for all portions. All characters are original. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. This story or any part thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review or commentary.

I was thinking of all those great sci-fi writers and novelists that used to write for anthology radio dramas like X Minus One, and TV anthology dramas like The Twilight Zone. As I thought, I wondered if I had something like that in me. Why not for the 2025 Halloween Contest? Halloween is a time of fear and anger, it would work?

Submitted for your approval, United States Army helicopter pilot Johnny Avalos. A young man whose wife was waiting for him to return home from Afghanistan. Or so he thought.

Flying Monkey

I fucking hate Halloween.

I came home from a deployment to Afghanistan and I found my beautiful house filled with people I normally wouldn't give the time of day. I just want to put my feet up, watch a Broncos game and reacquaint myself with my beautiful wife Lindsay. Instead, I have a house full of noisy, obnoxious drunks. And they're in fucking costumes! They're drinking my beer and spilling it on my carpet, eating my food and ignoring me. There's what looks like the world's tallest dwarf outside puking on my patio. In the kitchen, a Roman senator is hitting on a woman in a sexy nurse costume that I know is married to the guy dressed like Indiana Jones. Somebody give me a gun, please!

I couldn't take it anymore. "GIT THE FUCK OUT!" I shouted, but nobody even looked at me. That's the kind of respect Hispanics get in this neighborhood.

That's me, United States Army Warrant Officer Johnny Avalos. CH-47 Chinook helicopter pilot in training. I just finished my first deployment on the big Chinook, and now I'm home and all I want to do is deploy myself all over my beautiful wife.

"Fucking parasites," I mumbled as I elbowed my way through the crowd. I saw my wife, Lindsay, dressed as Dorothy Gale from the Wizard of Oz, heading upstairs. She was followed by the scarecrow and I realized that I had to fix this, but the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lioness got in my way. They were our neighbors, Gordon and Ellis Shepherd. "Come on guys, get out of my way!"

They moved aside, but they didn't even say hi. Maybe they didn't recognize me in my "GI Joe costume." We don't live on Fort Carson, so maybe they don't recognize a flight suit when they see one. I was still in my flight suit and survival gear.

Now, for some reason, everyone was clustered at the foot of the stairs. God, I was so tired, and to make matters worse, I had to put up with this crowd of assholes my first night home. "Get out of my house!" I shouted. The conversation stopped for a moment, then everyone started laughing and went back to the business of drinking my liquor cabinet dry.

I had to get upstairs; I missed Lindsay so much. My heart literally ached for her. It felt like I was gone for years, but I'm home now, and I want my woman. "Get the fuck out of my way!" I shouted, but everyone was clustered around two drunk chicks that were trying to eat apples that were hanging from strings at the foot of the stairs. One was dressed like a pirate; the other, like a slutty nun. "Come on, move!"

"Johnny?" called a woman's voice. I turned and looked and didn't see anyone I recognized. "Johnny, it's me, Wendy!" Then I saw it truly was Wendy, my older sister. "Johnny! It really is you!" she cried. "I knew you would be here tonight!"

It took me a while to recognize her because her costume was so good. She was dressed as a witch and did a good job of it. She had put on a fake nose and a pointy fake chin and covered the seams with body putty, then she covered her face, neck, hands and quite a bit of cleavage with green makeup. She even dyed her hair green. "Wendy?" I said.

My younger sister Miranda and I rarely refer to Wendy as our sister. If anything, we refer to her as "Uncle Miguel's niece." Everyone has an Uncle Miguel. I'm not sure how he does it, but he shows up for Thanksgiving dinner at noon and he's already smashed. He's the only snowplow driver in the Colorado highway division who's been threatened with suspension for driving too slow. I'll bet anyone any amount of money on why he drives so slow. I'm sure it's because he usually has an open beer in the truck with him and doesn't want to spill it.

For all his weirdness, Uncle Miguel is normal compared to Wendy. Wendy is worse in her own freaky way. I remember when she was seven, and she told Father Carlos at Saint Benedict's that she wanted to be a witch when she grew up. Father Carlos offered to make sure that never happened. I'm not sure if he meant he'd make sure she never became a witch, or she never grew up.

Whenever we watched the Wizard of Oz on TV and the Wicked Witch of the West was squawking, "I'm melting! I'm melting!" Wendy would cry and then run off to her room and slam the door.

She loved Halloween, even though she called it Saw-win but spelled it Samhain. She also called it the Autumn Cross-Quarter, or the Witches' New Year, even though they don't actually have a calendar. I once asked her if she danced naked in the moonlight, and she said, "Of course, I'm a witch." Then I asked if the laughter embarrassed her. She didn't talk to me for a month after that.

Around this time of year, she would carry on about the "thinning of the veil" between the realm of the living and the dead. I said, "Go tell abuela about that. She might like it." Abuela is a good Catholic woman, and when Wendy started telling her of Samhain, she chased Wendy out of the house with a broom.

I always gave Wendy crap, but Mom would always smack me in the back of the head for that. Wendy had a special place in Mom's heart, and when I teased Wendy, Mom would always say, "¡Dios tiene un trabajo especial para ella!" (God has a special job for her!)

All in all, Wendy had a good heart and was always kind to me, her kid brother. When I made warrant officer and got assigned to my first helicopter, she was the only person in the family that showed up at the ceremony for me. When I was in some god-awful shithole hauling "rubber dog shit" to prop up some goatfucker in Buttfuckistan, she stayed with Lindsay while I played GI Joe. She kept Lindsay sane through those days when nobody knew if I was alive or dead.

We stared at each other awkwardly for a few moments, trying to think of something to say. "That's a neat costume, what is it?" she finally asked.

I thought about all the Wizard of Oz costumes I saw in the past few minutes and then said, "I'm a flying monkey." How dare she call this a costume!

"No, really, what is it?"

"It's my pilot gear," I finally said. I'm a co-pilot on the C47 Chinook, the biggest, baddest, fastest, and heaviest lifting chopper in the US inventory. "This is my flight suit. It's made of Nomex and is fire retardant. This is my harness to lock my stupid ass into the seat, and over that is my survival vest. It's full of stuff like first-aid kits and snacks in case I have to walk home."

"What's sticking up from your hat?" asked Wendy.

"Helmet," I corrected her. I reached up and felt what was sticking up and ... oh shit! My night vision goggles were there. I'm going to get my ass in a crack for not turning that shit in. I might as well play the game with her. "These are night vision goggles so I can see what you really do at your coven meetings." How did I forget that? It was then that I realized that I had had enough. "I'm done with it all," I said.

"I know," said Wendy softly.

"No, I mean it, I'm getting out. It's not fair to Lindsay. We want to have kids, and I'm never here for her. She says that the Chinook is taking me away from her."

Wendy got weepy and nodded. "Johnny..." she started, but I interrupted her.

"I'm going to go talk to Lindsay, I hope it's not too late."

I started for the stairs, and Wendy shouted, "Johnny! Wait!" and she started crying her eyes out.

That gave me my chance. While everyone was checking to see why Wendy was shouting, I slipped upstairs. I was in such a hurry I must have made a wrong turn somewhere... somehow. I found myself in the dark, and I kept bumping into things. Then I saw a sliver of light, and I moved toward it and found I was peering into the master bedroom. I'm such an idiot; I must have turned the wrong way when I came into the bedroom and ended up in a closet.

I heard them before I saw them. It was Lindsay, and the guy dressed up like the Scarecrow. "I can't breathe in this thing," complained the scarecrow. He must be talking about his mask. I saw it as he crept up the stairs after Lindsay. His mask was made from an old cloth sack with eyeholes. A nose and mouth were painted on. It had straw hair sticking out from under an old cowboy hat, and the effect was pretty good. I'll have to tell him that before I kill him for following my wife into our bedroom.

"Let me help you with that," said Lindsay. Then, a moment later, she said, "better?"

"Oh yeah," he said. His voice was much clearer; she must have helped him take off the scarecrow mask. "Thank you. It is so stuffy in that thing." I recognized that voice! It was James Paddon. I always called him Jimmy P. We knew him from church, and we would hang out with him and his wife Elsie. We would go exploring Colorado every weekend. The four of us were inseparable. Lindsay and Elsie were best buddies, shopping and exploring the little towns on the front range. Me and Jimmy, people called us Jimmy and Johnny. He taught me how to fly fish; I taught him how to shoot trap. With cold beer and good cigars, he was as close as someone came to being my brother.

Life was so good for the four of us until that horrible day when Elsie was diagnosed with cancer, and our world went into a tailspin. We were always there for Jimmy, day or night. She passed away the following spring, and it was like we had a barrel of reality dumped on our heads. He slowly recovered and promised to keep an eye on Lindsay when I mobilized for a year of "fun" in Afghanistan.

"There were other things I couldn't do with that mask on," I heard Jimmy say.

"Like what?" asked Lindsay. Then I heard the gentle little smacking sound of kisses in the dark. "Yes, it's good we got that mask off," she finally said. Her voice was low and breathless with passion. More kissing followed, then I heard clothing rustling. "We have a house full of people down there," said Lindsay with a giggle.

You have a closet full of husband! I wanted to shout, but I was frozen. The words caught in my throat as terror filled my soul.

"Let them get their own," said Jimmy. "I got mine."

I wanted to kick that damn door open! It was a pocket door, and it wouldn't slide open. Lindsay probably forgot to lube the rollers with a bar of soap while I was deployed.

"Stop!" said Lindsay with a giggle that stabbed my heart. "You need to behave..."

"You are so beautiful," Jimmy whispered, then I heard more kissing. I finally got the door open enough to peek out with one eye. They were standing in the middle of the bedroom, and she had re-modeled the entire room while I was gone! I was only gone for a year! Everything was re-done. It was painted light lavender on one wall and a light gray on another wall. A large cherry chest was next to Lindsay's low dresser with a huge makeup mirror.

Jimmy and Lindsay were standing in the middle of the bedroom. He's a tall, handsome fellow. When his Elsie died, she took something of Jimmy with her, and he was silent and introspective. But here in my bedroom with my wife, he was his cheerful self again. If I weren't so angry, I'd be happy for him.

Jimmy looped his fingers under the shoulder straps of Lindsay's blue and white gingham pinafore and slid them down her arms. The pinafore pooled at her ankles as he unbuttoned her cream-colored high-neck blouse and slid that off her shoulders. Soon my beautiful brunette wife stood before him in her bra, panties, and ruby slippers, smiling up at him and giving him that smile that clearly said, "Don't stop there," a look I saw many times in the past.

He reached around her and unclipped her bra strap, freeing her large, round breasts. Her lovely firm breasts hung down unfettered, a joy to see, and against my will my cock began to harden. Lindsay had the most beautiful breasts. To me, they were perfection, large but not enormous 34D-cup breasts that bobbled merrily on her chest when she went braless to tease me. She almost always wore a bra because her right breast was noticeably larger than the left, which only caused me to give her left tit more attention. I was always urging it to grow and match its sister in size. Her dark areolas were as big around as silver dollars, with perfectly centered nipples that could broadcast her emotions by their erections. Currently, they were hard and pointing at Jimmy with rigid accusations.

Jimmy dropped to one knee and slowly slid her panties down, and I was suddenly bathed in seething anger. Not just because some man was glaring with lecherous intent at what was always MY pussy, but because she had shaved bare. She always trimmed her brunette pubic hair into a landing strip to welcome her helicopter driver home. It was a symbol that her pussy was for me and nobody else. I loved that landing strip, and I praised her for it every time I saw it.

Now, her vaginal mound was shaved clean, and I wanted to kill. I wanted to kill him; I wanted to kill her; I wanted to kill me. I was overcome with mind-wrenching anger at seeing my wife's betrayal, and I shouted... "STOP YOU BASTARD!" How could they not hear me? I wound up to shout again, but it caught in my throat as he leaned forward and planted a kiss on her sweet pussy. Then he began to gently lick and pleasure her. "PLEASE STOP!" I finally shrieked, but he continued to kiss and lick her pussy. Lindsay wound her fingers in Jimmy's hair and moaned her approval, that slut!

This fucking door! How did I get in here? I struggled with the door, like a monkey trying to escape his cage... a flying monkey. The door slid open a bit more, then it froze. Damn it! I looked and now Jimmy's scarecrow costume was on the bed and he was naked. She sank to her knees to worship his long, thick cock. One hand gently stroked his cock while she drew one of his balls into her mouth and laved it with her tongue.

I taught her that.

Jimmy groaned and ran his fingers through her thick chestnut hair as she whimpered and suckled his balls. Then she placed her tongue on the underside of his cock and ever so slowly ran her tongue up the length of his cock. My breathing stopped as her tongue made a long, sexy trip up to the head of his cock, and then she began tickling the underside of his cock with the tip of her tongue and sucking kisses with her lips. Jimmy was panting and groaning under her exquisite torture.

"Lindsay! Stop it! Please!" I shouted, but she ignored me. "Please Lindsay! I'll resign! I'll get out! I'm done with flying!" The fucking bitch ignored me; it was like I wasn't even there.

Jimmy grew tired of the delightful teasing mini-licks and took her head in his hands and pushed his cock into her mouth. She didn't fight, and she didn't pull away; she clasped her hands behind his back and let him have his way. He started slowly fucking in and out of her mouth, driving his hips forward until she gagged, but soon he stopped moving and began sliding her mouth up and down the length of his cock. Every time that cock plunged into her mouth, she gave a little moan of delight.

I squeezed my eyes closed and began to shake. I was going to kill them both. I carry a 9mm Baretta as part of my survival vest, but I couldn't get it out of the holster. What the fuck was going on? But my knife slid out of its sheath. Yeah, now I'm ready. My knife was 11 7/8 inches long; seven of those inches were blade. A USMC Ka-Bar knife. It wasn't part of my issued gear; it was a gift from Lindsay's marine grandfather, who carried it in the Korean War at the Chosin Reservoir. When I made Warrant Officer and was selected for helicopter training, he presented it to me, and I've worn it with pride. It was strapped to my leg every time I put on my survival vest and climbed into my Chinook. I've never used it in anger... until now.

Lindsay now had her hands on Jimmy's ass as her mouth slid up and down his cock. I couldn't tell, but I think she penetrated his ass with a finger. The pleasure I would get from being finger-fucked by my beautiful wife was beyond description.

She taught me that one.

"Enough!" my former friend called. He pulled his cock out of Lindsay's mouth, and how he did that I'll never know. I could never do that. When she was going down on me, I couldn't stop her; she was so good I never wanted her blowjob to end. He pulled her to her feet and pushed her toward the bed.

She got to the side of the bed and bent over to climb onto the bed, and Jimmy grabbed her hips. "Jimmy no!" she cried, but he wouldn't stop. She struggled against him, but he gripped her hips firmly. His hips were moving as he poked at her with his cock. "Jimmy no, please!" she cried.

"I'm going to find a hole there somewhere and when I do..." he said with a laugh.

"Jimmy please!" Suddenly she froze, her eyes wide open in shock and her mouth agape in surprise. Jimmy's maniacal poking with his hips stopped, then with a lecherous grin he sank his cock into my wife. "Jimmmmmy!" she groaned as he sank into her cunt. I was speechless, caught up in this scene, and as helpless as my wife was. Then I went wild, pulling and kicking at the door, trying to get out. I was a flying monkey desperately fighting against the cage holding me. I screamed and kicked, I went ballistic and threw myself at the door, and it slipped open a little more as Jimmy began pounding at Lindsay's pussy.

Jimmy drove that long cock into her balls deep with each thrust, impaling my sweet little wife on that dick of his. Her breasts were swinging in time with his thrusts, and each time his groin slapped into their junction, she gave a little grunt.

Suddenly she pulled away and scooted across the bed. "Jimmy, I said no!" she scolded. Then, lying on her back, she opened her arms to him. "I want to see you when you cum." When she said that, I sank to my knees and wept. How many times had she told me she didn't like doggy style because she couldn't see my eyes? She said she married me for my dark brown Mexican eyes, and she wanted to see them when I came.

I sat in my own closet, holding my head in my hands. How could this happen? Everything that was important to me was wrapped up in that woman, and she's happily spreading her legs for the neighbor? No, it was my helicopter; I loved that fucking helicopter too much, and now I'm paying the price. I tried not to hear the little telltale cries and moans of ecstasy she sings out whenever I went down on her... it sounds like Jimmy is hitting all the right buttons.

How could she do this? She knew when we got serious that I was in training to be a helicopter pilot, that I was US Army through and through, and she said, "I know and I love you for it." Now look at what she's doing. I ran my thumb over the razor-sharp blade, and I shook in anger. I wondered how it would feel to kill them. Would I get pleasure from it? Would they feel the agony I'm feeling right now?

Over on the bed, my former best friend was fucking the daylights out of my wife. His enormous cock thrusting into her moist open cunt, her hips moved in time with his vicious thrusts. Then, folding her legs over his thighs, she was spreading herself even wider for him, surrendering herself to him until finally she gave a shrill cry as her orgasm was full upon her. As she came, Jimmy reared up and hooked her legs over his arms, and he plowed into my helpless wife over and over, and she continued to shriek in pleasure.

I was no longer thinking rationally... or maybe I was thinking far too rationally. I got up close to the door and put my combat boot-shod foot against the open edge of the door, put my back against the closet side wall and pushed. I pushed hard, like I was trying to get a stuck car out of a snowdrift. Finally, the door opened enough for me to get out.

The flying monkey was free. I will not die a cuckold, my prideful Mexican blood cried out for revenge. Clasping the handle of the knife with both hands, I walked to Jimmy and Lindsay as they lay on the bed kissing and shuddering from their betrayal of me. I looked at Lindsay's perfect legs and tiny feet. Usually when she cums good and hard, her legs shudder with aftershocks of pleasure. Her legs weren't shuddering — score one for me.

As I drew near, I raised the knife to end them and their infidelity; I wanted to hear her last words. The last words from a woman that I loved more than life itself. She kissed Jimmy and said, "Thank you so much for all your help over the past couple of years."

Huh?

"I know what you're going through. When I lost Elsie I was a wreck. I wouldn't have made it if it weren't for you and Jimmy. When I heard they listed Jimmy as Missing In Action, I knew..." He actually choked up.

She pulled Jimmy closer and said, "When they called and said they identified his body..."

What?

The bedroom faded, and I was in the right-hand seat of 07-03775, 775 for short, a battle-hardened CH-47F. It was a sweet bird with upgraded twin 4,880 shaft horsepower Honeywell engines. It could scream along at over 280 knots (175 mph) with a load of over 21,000 pounds. I looked over at Sparky, my primary pilot. We were both warrant officers, 154F - Chinook Drivers. Jeff Sparks was getting ready to turn the job over to me.

"You ready Johnny?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I said.

"It's all yours." With that, I was flying 775. Nothing out-lifts, out-flies, out-runs the Chinook. The big twin-engine tandem-rotor flying workhorse is the fastest helicopter on earth. I always wanted to fly the Chinook, so when I enlisted, Lindsay knew the helicopter was my ultimate goal. She always saw it as her competition, and I guess she was right.

"This is our last one, so make it pretty," said Sparks. We had twenty-five Rangers on a mountaintop, waiting for us to give them a ride home to Camp Taylor, then Sparky and I go to Bagram for a ride home to the land of the Big BX. I know Lindsay will wait for me at Fort Carson. Her last letter said she got a cabin reserved at the military recreation area of Camp Hale, and we'll have a fifth honeymoon when I get home. "There's Hill 334, to your left," said Sparky.

"Copy," I said, concentrating on making this a perfect pinnacle landing. A pinnacle landing is when you plant the rear wheels of a Chinook on the top of a mountain and open the tail door; everything forward of the rear wheels is hanging out over the edge of a sheer cliff. For one terrifying minute, you hold the helicopter level so your people can get on or off while becoming the biggest target in the world. It is the hardest thing any helicopter pilot ever did, and there's only a handful of us that can do it. Getting people off is a breeze; they can run off the chopper. Getting them onboard seems to take forever.

I swung the bird into position and settled down in place. The crew chief was lying on the ramp giving instructions. "Forward three... good. Down two... down one... down!" I remember wanting to look in the mirror so I could watch the guys load up, but that was the co-pilot's job. My job was to hold the Chinook level, and Sparky would watch the guys load up. Just as Sparky said, "Damn good job," everything went white, and I was home, and there was a party.

Feeling sick and pitiful, I unstrapped the sheath of the Ka-Bar from my leg and sheathed the knife, then laid it on her nightstand and leaned over to kiss Lindsay. "I love you, angel." She was my angel, my gift from God. I remember my last thought before everything went white was to tell myself to hold the pinnacle landing perfectly so I could go home to Lindsay.

I didn't feel her cheek when I kissed her, but she whimpered and put her hand on the side of her face. "What's the matter?" asked Jimmy.

"I don't know, I just had a feeling..." she said sadly. "I miss Johnny."

"I do to. I hope he's happy for us wherever he is," said Jimmy.

With my head spinning, I walked to the bedroom door, and so lost in thought I didn't try to open it, I walked through it and found myself facing Wendy. "You're the only one that can see me." I said. I wasn't asking, I was telling. She just nodded her head. My stomach turned as I said, "All those years you didn't know if I was alive or dead, I... I wasn't alive, was I?"

She shook her head no.

"I don't know what to do... I don't know what happened." I was going to cry; I know it.

"They said there was a Taliban mortar at the base of the mountain and they shot straight up and killed you and Warrant Officer Sparks instantly." She sniffed and fiddled with something in her hands. "If it helps, they said the wreckage of your helicopter landed on the mortar crew and killed them."

No, it didn't really help at all. I reached out to Wendy, but I couldn't feel her. "I... I want to thank you... you were always good to me, even when I was being a shit to you."

Wendy looked like she was fighting back the tears, and I could see her sorrow behind the makeup. She whispered, "I knew it would come to this." She started crying and said, "I want you to stay."

I don't know why, but I knew that would not happen, so I touched her green hair and said, "Te quiero, mi sisterna."

She whimpered and said, "I love you too, Johnny."

"Tell Lindsay that I'm happy for her... and Jimmy... tell mama I love her." I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I headed for the door. The flying monkey isn't needed here anymore.

"Johnny," Wendy called, "Next year? You'll be back next year?"

I stopped and shrugged. "Yeah, why not."

"I'll be here Johnny. I'll wait for you..." I didn't hear what else she had to say; everything started to turn white.

I fucking hate Halloween.