The wind had a chill to it this morning while walking to work, leaves crunched under my boots as they made contact with the sidewalk. I stopped to admire this almost perfect autumn day, it would have been perfect if my boss hadn't called me at the last minute. Too bad for him though since I was doing what I did best on my days off which was going up into my attic and getting fucking high, while I listen to zeppelin and eat cheddar cheese. I took one last drag off my pen and headed into the portal to hell itself.
The Quicky Jizz was as bleak as ever, the fluorescent lights were making that god awful buzzing sound, and the only songs that played on the radio station were that one song about the cheerleader and some weird Indian version of thriller. The latter one isn't that bad but it only plays during a blood moon. The doors chime as I enter and my boss is behind the counter stocking the cigarettes.
"Glad you're here Josh there's a little situation in the ladies room, I'd say it's a code 5 to be exact."
This man spoke with the thickest Wisconsin accent I'd ever heard. I almost need subtitles to understand what he's trying to say sometimes.
"Yeah okay Tim I'm on it."
I grab the purification salts and the hockey stick we keep above the door in the office, and head into the women's restroom.
I can smell it before I see it and I can definitely hear it when the automatic lights flicker on. It's shrieks make my ears ring, fuck I really should have worn ear plugs. I kick open the stall door and I'm greeted by a fat grub the size of an obese corgi. It hissed and snapped its mandibles as it lunged towards me. I made contact with its head with the hockey stick sending the grub flying against the wall in the back of the stall with a wet smack. It slides down the wall and starts crawling towards me, I throw handfuls of the salt at it then try to hit it again with the stick. The salt burns and melts the grubs body and I inflict enough blunt force trauma that it finally stops moving. To really put the icing on top I take out the raid from my pocket and drown the grub in chemicals. I give it one last poke with the stick and a kick, then I take the grub and put it in a bag to take out back.
"Did ya get it?" Tim yells from outside the door.
"Yeah it's all taken care of." I kick open the door to the restroom, making Tim back out of my way.
"What'cha gonna do with that?"
"Follow me and find out."
The grub makes another loud splat when it hits the bottom of the metal trash can. I douse it with lighter fluid and drop a lit match into the can. The flames engulfed the grub as it made one last pathetic cry as it burned. Tim hung his head and said a little prayer for the grub under his breath, then relieved me of my duties before going back inside.
I take my leave and enjoy the rest of this lovely fall day as I walk the few blocks back to my house. The spirit of the grub hovers behind my left shoulder, snaps its mandibles and hisses at me. I should probably stop smoking the weed Tim keeps giving me.
Hello everyone Lu here, I decided to delete my story The Pet due to the graphic depiction of the abuse of a woman of color.
I would like to address that even though the story is based on the human pet guy and he is open about his attraction to women of color on his blog. I find it personally distasteful of myself to have a story like this posted especially with current events involving the murder of George Floyd. I would like to formally apologize to anyone I have harmed or triggered by this story.
Thank you for everyone who supports this blog and our writings and if you are against the Black Lives Matter movement I would like you to unfollow this page immediately.
Dogs barking. There are dogs barking outside my apartment that keep catching the attention of my cat. They aren’t directly outside, but in the homes of nearby neighbors. If they were outside my door, my cat would become way more aggressive. She’s already very territorial of our place, so just seeing another cat outside will get her in a rowdy mood.
She’s not wrong for feeling concerned. The dogs in this area never barked this often before. It’s even worse than that though. Every night this happens there comes a news report soon after about a break in for one of the houses. The house’s door would be broken into violently, leaving the door almost destroyed and off its hinges. Scratches would be found on numerous surfaces inside the homes and faint hints of blood would remain, but none of the occupants could ever be found afterwards. Nothing would be left, but teeth.
Every time this happened the news confirmed through dental records that the teeth belonged to the owners of each home.
It’s happening again tonight. It’s like a goddamn ritual. Dogs barking, my cat on the defense and my scared ass needing to vent here. I can’t fucking take these nights anymore. The police are trying to put more patrol routes through this area of the town since it’s been consistent with this spot only, but considering that hasn't stopped it either we might as well be treating this as a major threat to the community.
Grab your pitchforks! Light your torches! Load up into the school gymnasium with all of your guns and wait for this mother fucker to come out and empty a shit ton of lead into him or it or-
Good god, I’m going overboard. I’m panicking. This isn’t helping. I need to play some games. Take this off my mind.
2:10AM
My cat is freaking the fuck out! She’s hissing at the window, so there’s something definitely out there! I can’t build up the nerve to go see what it is. All I can do is type my feelings and I feel so damn hopeless.
God dammit! She’s practically yelling at the thing! The dogs are barking so loud now it’s becoming deafening! Like they’re not even outside anymore!
I’m gonna take a look.
4:50AM
I’m typing from my phone in this journal now, sitting in the bathtub. I’m just waiting it out until the sunlight finally comes. There’s a rectangular window at the top of my showers wall which I’m using to judge when the light comes through. It’s just barely there.
I’m not gonna lie that I’m lying here in my own piss. The thing that my cat got so angry at was almost too dark to make out when I parted the blinds. Every street lamp was shut off outside and the only thing I could actually see the first time I laid eyes upon this creature were two small, yellow orbs. Those were its hungry eyes and when I decided to shine my phone light on it, the electricity in my apartment blacked out.
There was nothing there outside the window and suddenly all the dogs stopped barking. I tried to grasp my cat purely for comfort, but as soon as I felt her fur I knew something was wrong. It was like every hair on her body was sticking straight up.
A dog's howl quietly started, being joined by others and quickly raising in volume to that of an angry pack of wolves. My cat began to meow in a low, concerned tone before something started to bang on my front door! It kept banging repeatedly and my cat started to yowl as I ran into this bathroom just by remembering the layout and locked the door.
I now realized I locked her out. She was locked out there the whole time. Good god. But I never heard her yelp or make any other distressing noise when that yowl slowly went down in volume as I waited here and the dogs just got louder. It was ridiculous how deafening it got, but nothing compared to when my apartment's front door was broken through and soon the bathroom door was receiving the same treatment.
It took way less time for this one to get knocked down and as soon as the door swung and hit the sink with a bang, the howling stopped. I heard breathing and then light taps like nails against a hardwood floor. Then a sucking noise.
I pulled back the bathtub's curtain just a little bit and tried to focus on what was in here. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out the form of a wolf. A very frail, almost sickly looking wolf with something hanging down from its mouth.
Now it took me a second to really make out what it was because it was just so odd. The wolf wasn’t bent down in any way, but it was lapping up- no, sucking at something on the floor with it like it was some straw like appendage. I finally just had to cope with it and assume that that was its tongue. And I’m pretty sure it was lapping at where I first wet myself. I know I don’t need to get more detailed than that.
After the wolf finished drinking, its tongue retracted back into its body with a wet smacking sound and made its way out the door.
This all happened in less than half an hour. I’ve been here for a little more than two hours and I’m terrified, I miss my cat and I’m sticky and I just want to be over with this.
It’s five now. It was hard to type this out, but I was able to draw it out until then. The light is getting a bit brighter. It’s just becoming dusk, I’m sure of it.
Oh my god. My cat! She’s meowing! I need to see her!
Last entry from February 9th
From the Greenford Tribune, February 12th
Today we had a break in happen to yet another unfortunate resident of Greenford. According to police reports we were able to get, the MO seems to be the same as the previous break ins leaving the inside of the home ravaged and the owner missing. A missing persons report will be going out when more information is gathered on the resident. The only other details that could be given were the discovery of a cat that seemed to be unharmed and was very social with everyone at the scene.
That moment when you're doing a late night grocery run and jamming out to "the kids will grow up to be assholes" by The Paper Chase and the lyrics "Give you a sense of being stared at," are blaring through your speakers into your ears while there's a sudden thud in your back seat and you just think it's one of the groceries, but then you look in your mirror and everything still seems in order back there aside from the thin fingers with chipped, sharp nails that are slowly coming up behind your seat and wrapping around your throat. Ha ha so relatable h
So last week I was visiting my in laws and my mother in law asked me how my nephew who lives down in Texas with his mom is doing, and I told her he’s doing good from what I can tell. Then she asked me if Gage (my nephew) looks like his dad and no only does he look exactly like my older brother but he looks like my dad and my grandpa and I proceeded to go through my mother’s Facebook looking for old photos of my older brother and dad to show her. In the process of looking for said photos I had come across an album titles “Family” that my dad’s cousin Cindy had tagged my mom in, I don’t personally know that side of my family too well considering I had only met them a few times when I was younger, and while I was going through this album of people I barely recognized apart from my dad, aunts, and a couple cousins. I had found the best picture ever. I don’t know this man personally and not even my mom is sure how he connects to the family. So I would like to share with you Ronnie With The Ferrets.
I killed them. I killed my family and I can’t think of any right way to get that across. My wife, son, and daughter are all I think about. It wasn’t my fault. I have to think it wasn't. So many people say it was hatred that birthed that awful span of time, but I know that it wasn’t always so easy to fix the problem.
Sure, killing people made them come back as horrible monstrosities, so the solution ended up being that we stop killing. There was a lot of sense in that. But the man with a T.V. for a head made it difficult for me to abide.
I loved my family. I hope anyone who reads my contribution to this believes that, no matter how right they are for hating me. It was just hard to not snap when all day you’d have to listen to the news he would give you.
The dials on his head would twist and turn automatically, changing the static frequency on his screen to show me that maniacal smile before it would change to the horrible images that drove my rage and sorrow.
Footage of death, hopelessness and every horrible thing going on in the world. A birds-eye view of a building exploding followed by him telling me it was a school. Footage of people getting gunned down on a sidewalk just across from the person recording the horrible act.
“The world is corrupt and always has been. There's nowhere else for it to go but down. All you can do is help get it over with. You know what you need to do. Just tell me when you're ready,” he'd say this as a repetitive announcement to me after every viewing of footage.
It took until maybe the thirtieth time for me to be convinced. When I told him “yes,” the channel changed to something new. Something hard to remember. I only have a note I must have written during that lost time.
“The spiders and snakes are crawling into the cracks of my mind, laying their young forever, on and on, continuously impregnating my thoughts with ideas and imagery of things long past. Vast, unimaginable monstrosities.”
When I finally became lucid, my family was dead. I killed them with a hatchet we owned in the garage. I almost took my life right then, but as I put the blade of the ax up to my wrists, I saw the corpses of my family twitch on the floor.
They got up and asked me, “Why Daddy?”
I ran. To where I didn't know at the time. I don't even know how I got out of that house. Looking back on it, the whole experience felt like running through a maze.
I just couldn't find my way through that place as they followed behind me. Dragging themselves. They'd hang onto me and never let go. Even when I did leave that house, I still heard them behind me. Quiet whispers. Soft whimpers. This damn crick in my neck from them always sitting me.
It's a shame. My neck has never felt better sense. I no longer hear them, but the weight is still there. They're still telling me what I did whether they want to or not. And I deserve it. I deserve this feeling to my death and after that. I deserve to be snapped into pieces.
I was one of the sick bastards who caused this mess. I have done my time, accepted the consequences and even prayed for death. But I know it will not come and that is deserved. It’s the worst punishment I can get to still hold these terrible memories in this rotten body.
The moment I changed was the most predictable. It was when I met death's door. But that's all it really should take. My squad and I were raiding a house we were told was showing signs of corruption, doing what we thought would get rid of the plague. We spread to different rooms, shot everyone in them and burned their bodies. I was making my way to one room with two men close behind.
I opened the door and saw that this room was different. Everything in the house felt like a home. Nothing was abnormal about it, but we didn’t question whenever we were told that there were humans ready to become abominations somewhere. We were always itchy on the trigger. We replaced our bloodlust with the thought that we were saving the world. But that room. It was different from the rest of the house. Unusually dark. A heavy felling fell on me like gravity wanted to crush me. Like it hated me. I felt sadness. Hopelessness. But I truly, literally felt that the air wanted to crush me too.
We shone our flashlights all across the room to find that the windows had been covered with boards, paper, messy blackout curtains. Nothing seemed organized in here. It smelled. There was trash littered across the whole room along with many, many articles of clothing.
Eventually, my light caught something in the back of the room. It was a small mound of something pink. It was flesh like. It was moving. The small mound started to pulsate and grow. It took me a second, but there was a face in it. Then there were multiple as it grew to the size of a leg rest.
Then it just grew and grew in size and features. It started sprouting arms and legs and it was growing along the back wall like a plant, or a wave splashing against a rocky wall on the beach.
The spiders and snakes are crawling into the cracks of my mind, laying their young forever, on and on, continuously impregnating my thoughts with ideas and imagery of things long past. Vast, unimaginable monstrosities.
Then… then it rushed toward us! We ran immediately from the thing, screaming our heads off and I hoped that everyone else in the building would take it as a signal to get the hell out!
I only took one look behind me in that whole chaos. The creature squeezed its entire form through the door and flooded the rest of the building, taking the other soldiers into itself.
We made it out and immediately began to burn the house in whatever. Explosions to singe it and keep the beast at bay. Molotov we hastily made to finish the deed. We lit whole match packs and boxes and did whatever we could to make sure it was gone. The flamethrowers left by our consumed comrades ignited with the dance of flames and explosions as the beast wailed and cowered back from the windows, the door, the damaged openings of the house all at once.
And I’m not sure what to say after that. We’d wasted most of our weaponry and a good chunk of supplies from just one monstrosity brought into this world by a cycle of wasting more and more ammunition.
We made it home, but the survival didn’t matter. We as a species hadn’t learned anything that day. My men just thought we had a really bad close call. I, however, had second thoughts. Severe, second thoughts. And yet the insanity would go on for too long. Way too long.
We spent hundreds of years shitting on town streets and getting sick from it before we figured out we just needed to wash our hands and not be so god damned filthy in order to fix the problem. It doesn’t surprise me that humanity took millions of years to figure out we should stop being pieces of shit too. We are a slow race. We are inferior and don’t understand what it takes to evolve before it’
Gunshots. The smell of great, painful flame. Dirt sitting in my mouth for the worms to hide in. Lord knows they were better off. Grass puncturing my hands and knees. My flesh was so sensitive then. It never grew stronger. But what I saw in those hate-filled days is what makes those other senses of my being burst apart into utter irrelevance. It’s why I write here today.
I was crawling to… somewhere. At the time I didn’t know where. My mind was clouded by the events prior. Family dead. Missed that fate by a hair. My mother pushed me out that window and a broken leg was a better fate than that.
She made the right choice. She made the right choice.
I dragged myself for hell knows how long. My concentration was honed when needed. I had to crawl under so many smelly cars when I saw those “soldiers”, those monsters patrolling, executing, sitting around with their guns.
Pop-pop-pop-pop
You couldn’t run from something that fired that fast. That powerful. Like a long-range buzzsaw that would cut someone's arm clean off with one burst.
It was even harder to hide from the fallen ones. I spent maybe an hour with a trash can over me while one of them slithered around close by before being drawn away by artillery explosions.
One of them made my nose bleed and caused me to vomit, but it didn’t seem to notice me. I crawled away and the symptoms got better.
It was, gosh it’s hard to write this. It was the hardest to run from “her”. Mom. She was bloodied, mud-caked and down to her underwear, but I saw no injuries. She just kept walking toward me with nothing said. No sign of comfort. Just a dead stare and a brisk walking pace.
I crawled as fast as I could. Even as a child, I knew it wasn’t really her, or the old her, I should say. My leg was tracking so much blood by now I have no idea how I survived that day. Thankfully it was only one day. Oh, I pity the poor souls that got it worse.
I was almost inside a building but was about to give up because she was almost on top of me. I didn’t even need to look back. Then the weirdest thing happened. I looked at a cracked mirror next to a building, probably flew over there from an explosion, and there was nothing behind me. Nobody. No mother. No monster.
I looked behind me and she wasn’t there. She really wasn’t.
It still makes little sense to me, but questioning it almost feels like an insult to what may have saved me. Nothing in those times made sense. It was a time brought on by unreason. A time that should have never been. A time we learned from.
Prompt: You've always had a devil and angel on your shoulders, but today you notice that the angel's gone. Relieved, the devil says, "I know a lot about you. Can I tell you to do good things now?"
"So, did I do nothing right in life?" I ask the voice in my head out loud, hopefully not looking like a fool in this coffee shop.
"Barely. I won't give you a spiel saying the world isn't all black and white, but listening to one side with unquestioning devotion is definitely not a good moral path." It tells me.
This demon, this previously loud and booming creature is now reserved. Formal. No longer is he threatening me to do things, no, warning me that they're the right or wrong. That's what it was.
"You made this pretty deceiving, to be honest," I say back.
"I'm still a demon, that I can promise, and like any of us, I will say that God is an overly secretive, complex and pretentious ass. He's deceived you. He'd call it a test, but using his fallen children to trick people into showing what they really are doesn't sit right even with my disgusting brain."
"So, what do I do? Can I redeem myself?"
"Yes."
"Good, then I'll right my wrongs. If anything, I'm still young. I won't be dying anytime soon unless something freakish happens," I sigh.
"You're not safe, friend."
"I'll focus all the time I have on getting back into college and making peace with my parents and... telling Jesse I'm sorry," I take a nice gulp of my coffee and set it back down.
"You're not safe."
"I can do this. I can turn myself aroun-
The demon shouts into my soul, "You aren't safe! You have limited time!"
I shut up and wait one dreadful second before choosing my next words, "What do you mean? Like, I have a clock ticking on my life?"
"No," his voice is echoing inside the hollow cavern of my mind, "The angel didn't leave. It was merely replaced."
"By what?"
"Samael."
The moment that name rings in my head, I notice that the cafe is suddenly empty. I stand up and make my way to the front door without question just to hear another voice. It's not from my head but in the back of the store where employees are only allowed.
"Over here."
It's a loud whisper.
"Come hinder, little one."
"Don't listen to it," the demon tells me, "It's an agent of God. A bringer of death. One of his best."
His words register, but I take a step in the direction of the whispering voice instead. It may sound harsh. It may sound raspy. But it evokes relief. The relief to skip a test. To not worry about others in this life. To no longer commit to anything.
"I know what you're thinking and you won't be free for it! You will go to hell, don't think this is a mercy kill!" the demon rattles my bones and ripples my flesh with such violence and power in its desperation that it snaps me out of this trance!
But it's too late. In front of me, I see the head of a beautiful woman. Her smile is reassuring on her pleasant face. Almost statuesque. Her clothing is made up of beautiful white robes, thin to the eye and teasing to the brain. She holds her arms out as a heartwarming invitation. My head feels like it's pounding. My thoughts are only of bliss. I embrace her and I feel content.
I feel great joy and satisfaction just from hugging this radiant figure.
Then I feel something wet and slimy effortlessly slide its way into my ear! It fills with my mind with torturous thoughts and nightmarish imagery from days past. Decades of history's darkest mistakes burrow into the back of my eyes and pour into vision with nothing but hate, revenge, and malice.
What feels like two fuzzy, almost pointy, arms wrap themselves around me and I feel sharp claws burrow into my back! My soul is set ablaze as I feel myself being ripped in half and I scream forevermore! Even when my throat bleeds. Even when my mind no longer remembers my petty deeds. Even when the universe has long forgotten me and eroded. My cries aim towards the void of nowhere.
I type this because I’m scared and I have no other way to cope, no other way to vent. I’ve never felt at ease ever since I moved out of my parent's house. I live in a small studio that’s in a complex renovated from a motel and a number of alarming things have happened here just in the past week.
Every time at night I hear this weird creaking noise. It’s not the neighbor's doors. I know that because I never hear a door close or open this late.
When I look outside my apartment, there’s nobody but the tall trees in the middle of the complex and the still night. My neighbors all seem to have more regular sleeping schedules. Working night shifts makes staying up late common throughout the entire week.
Pranks feel out of the question, especially since they would be downright sick ones. I hear shuffling outside my window where an alleyway is that’s behind the complex, but I always keep the blinds shut. I always feel it’s best to not bother checking on whoever is slowly pacing back and forth over and over, crunching late fall leaves in the process.
Then there are the times when I’m in the bathroom. This well-developed apartment has a window just behind the toilet and although it too has blinds that I always keep shut, that doesn’t mean I can’t hear the muffled whispers outside everytime I need to relieve myself.
But above all else, there was “that” night. It was the night that someone knocked on my door. I didn’t even bother looking through the peephole to see who it was. I was scared out of my mind by this point.
I decided to say “fuck it” and hid under my bed. Try to play it as if nobody is home. And then the door opened. I might as well have been shitting my pants I was so done. No sound came after that. No footsteps. No voices. But I could see in the darkness thanks to the moonlight that there was something. A pair of bare feet floating around the room.
Whatever thing owned those feet seemed to search around everywhere, even going into the bathroom at one point. Then it finally hovered right in front of me and landed on the floor. I could tell by its positioning that it was facing right towards me.
I then heard a faint whispering.
“You’re not alone anymore.”
I held my breath with my hand as tears were flowing down my cheeks. Just when I knew I was going to break and panic, it moved back to the door and left, closing it behind itself.
I don’t really know what to do. My friends would think I’m mad. I’ve thought about asking them to hang out well into the time when this stuff starts, but I feel that I’d be putting them in too much danger.
It’s getting well into the night as I’m writing this. I can already hear the voice. Subtle tappings on the windows throughout this home.
It was just a silly joke, right? It's just how kids are. Don't listen to your teachers and you're a champion among your peers. Yeah. Yeah, that's why I decided to step out of my comfort zone for once.
I mean, it was just with a calculator. I was going to do something that seemed safe because if I did divide by zero as the teacher told me not to, I could decide when I wanted to shout out my stupid ass, unfunny joke that I did indeed divide by zero. Or I could have just hidden the fact that I did it.
I could have moved on with life pushing a few buttons, maybe snicker to myself at best and follow the rest of the class lecture like any other plain and normal day.
But life decided I wouldn't have that comfort.
The next thing I heard after pressing the final button was being blinded by a bright light and the shrill screams of everyone in the class.
I jumped out of my seat in a panic and when my vision cleared, I became even more worried. The light faded into darkness. I thought I went blind.
But really the room was almost pitch black. The screams were still ringing in my ears and they sounded like they were moving past me. I then felt like my body was being pulled towards one side of the room. It was the side that all of the other kids were moving towards.
My eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and I could see all of the other kids in my class being sucked in by something. It was darker than anything else in the room. Kids were sliding into it and being sucked in. A lot of them tried to grab for something to hang onto in the room. Anyone who did was still ripped from safety as something would grab them and yank them off. Something long and slender.
Many of these things came out of the dark spot nabbing students and it quickly turned into a fight for our lives. Nobody was being considerate. People pushed others in whilst running as if it would distract the thing, but that barely seemed to matter. The only thing that helped anyone was being the closest to the door, and I was thanking God that day that I was in the front row for once.
I was right behind the first kid to make it to the door. He opened it and the light from the hallway felt almost as blinding as the one before as it spilled into the room. I was going to be instantly free if one of those tendrils hadn't wrapped around my leg.
My thoughts were no longer my own the instant it touched me. My mind was filled with a voice telling me to give in, that I needed nothing else anymore. It told me I would be free of all woes without reality. That I would revert to nothing and be more than less of myself.
I would live in...
I- I slammed the door on it. The tendril seemed to take a liking to the door and devoured it, spreading its null color over it and across the walls as it took my lower leg. Just... took it and left me with a clean stump. I was able to crawl away before it latched onto me again, but I probably wouldn't have gotten out of that school if my friend who was being evacuated from another classroom hadn't discovered me and helped me out of there.
Now I sit here, a cripple trying to face the memory I wish I never had. I feel awful that I shut that door since nothing was going to stop it anyways. That school no longer exists because of me. And my leg still feels the pain of that day. Not like a phantom limb. It's a pain that's spread to my heart. The pain of feeling hopeless and inadequate.
Inspired by this prompt: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9wvjeh/wp_you_are_a_bored_student_in_middle_school/
So Lu and I decided to watch that Toy Story 4 trailer with my relatives since we were over for dinner, but every video we watched was just the ending credits for Hereditary.
Inspired by the deliciously disturbing creature designs of Trevor Henderson: https://twitter.com/slimyswampghost / http://slimyswampghost.tumblr.com/
Joan drove through the night, not a care in the world, not a care for the world. That being said, her son in the passenger's seat was the only exception in that matter. Looking at his sleeping face any chance she could get on the sleeted, slushy road was a breath of fresh air.
Yes. Fresh air. The thing she needed most. A thing she was most grateful for.
“Take the week off. I’ve got this,” her partner had said.
Dan, the awesome, son of a bitch, promised her he’d take care of her landlord duties while she went on vacation. And it was just over drinks. A casual break. Shit talking, chit-chatting, holster empty. Even then she was comfortable for the first time in a while. And when he put the offer on the table, she jumped straight for it.
It was going to be a small vacation. Just go a few cities and towns over to Grandma Debbie’s with little Nathan. It’d be simple and not even a sudden snowstorm was going to complicate things.
If anything, the snow made the drive nice. Slow paced. Cozy heat. Sleeping kid. No need to get anywhere fast. It was kind of perfect. They were almost there too. And the closer they got, something kept stimulating this long forgotten optimism. Something Joan was only starting to notice.
There was a faint smell. She couldn’t even remember when it first became noticeable, only that it became a very apparent scent and that it was still growing. It was sweet. Maybe the reason it took so long to notice was that it smelled like Grandma’s cooking. It seemed more natural that she was just remembering it too fondly, but this was real.
There were no sweets in the car and any food they’d eaten on the trip had been tossed out at a gas station Joan had visited only a few hours ago, save for a bag of chips in Nates lap secured by a clip Joan made sure to put on. The smell was confusing, but Joan tried her best not to acknowledge it too much.
The road was getting worse though. Her anxiety couldn’t be helped.
Slow down. Slow down.
Slush. The road was full of it. Leaves too. Winter kicked Fall in the face this year as it decided to come in early. Come in seething cold. Didn’t help that construction counted as a season too in her state. The road had been against her. Truth is, she was still worrying in the back of her head that this was a wasted experience. That the fun would get to her head. That she’d forget how to work. That she couldn’t support Nate. That she was a failure for taking off the badge so long ago. That her brain fucked up everything. That the gun in her shoulder holster felt so enticing to hold. And the ground was full of this filth in her mind.
No. It was strange. There were no longer any leaves in the slush. They weren’t the right color. More pink and red than orange and red. The way it all glistened unsettled her. The red patches of slush around them uneased her. And then she realized she was looking more down at the road than across it. Then when she snapped out of it and finally regained focus, that’s when she saw it. Something could not explain, at least for now.
It looked like a large pipe was stretched across the road, crooked as it seemed to hover between 6 to 8 feet from the ground. This detail about the height was the only thing that was on her mind in the car and she knew she had to turn immediately. Or so she thought in that instance. The result of her turning so suddenly only sent her car spinning.
Nate awoke. Screams filled the car. A sudden crack filled the air. Smash! All was quiet again in a matter of seconds.
---
“You miss being on the force, Joan?” Dan asked her over a bottle of White Zinfandel.
“I’ve told you ‘no’ a hundred times, buddy,” she was pouring herself another glass.
“You tell me, but you never seem like it.”
She downed the glass quickly and responded with, “I know what I say, Dan. That’s that.”
“I know, but you don’t seem like you’re living, as blunt as that sounds.”
She leaned over the side of her chair to grab the cooler next to Dan’s feet, muttering, “You got anything better? Shit tastes like refried beans.”
“Joan, you need to get out of here.”
She dragged the cooler over to her side, “I’m fine. And I know you need the help.”
“Joan,” he grabbed her hand just after it had slapped a big blue bottle of Svedka on the table, “Take the week off. I’ve got this. Get Nate out somewhere away from that Fortnite or James Bond video game crap and actually see something different for a change.”
She looked at him sternly. That good, drunk cop stare when you’re trying to watch the new Transformers movie and your son tells you how shit it is and suddenly the frying pan looks like it’d be fun to clack around on the stove because loud sounds are funny when you’re drunk. That roughly translated to Joan giving Daniel a look that he couldn’t take seriously.
And as he laughed, she finally said something, “Goldeneye is a lost treasure we’ll never get back Dan! You know it! You remember college!”
He wiped away a tear and said, “Seriously. Take a trip. Don’t worry about this for a bit. Put your mind somewhere else.”
---
Joan woke up with a throbbing headache. The front window of her car was smashed and a branch from the tree she’d run into had just grazed her shoulder. When she looked to her son, there was only a bloody seat. Loud, high pitched cries could be heard outside.
She went into overdrive. Her hands acted fast. One on the seatbelt release, the other grabbing for her pistol. Once that was done she got out of the car and stayed low behind it while pulling the slide back slightly on her CZ P-10 to make sure a round was already in the chamber. With the brass check done, she stood up and looked over the car towards where the sound was coming from with the gun at the ready.
On the other side of the car, maybe thirty feet away along a trail of blood were two thrashing bodies in the snow. One body was getting slower. Getting weaker before it finally stopped resisting to the wolf at its neck. The wolf bit down one more time on the unfortunate raccoon and it was done.
About midway between the car and the wolf with its food was the bag of chips that Nate had been snacking on, ripped open and contents scattered across the snow along with the red mess.
Joan ducked back behind the car and tried to think of what her next step was. The wolf was busy with something, so she that wasn’t the top priority to worry about. She just needed to find Nate.
Jesus Christ, she thought, he still can’t be safe if wolves are out here.
She tried to scan as much of the area as she could without getting the attention of the proud predator. The road was still close by. There was no need to fuck with the wolf. Just get to the street and head towards town.
Yeah, yeah. And then call 911. It took a moment to consider that option for Joan. That was intentional. But priorities are priorities. She needed to make sure her face wouldn’t get mauled off.
She took another peek through the windows this time.
The wolf was gone.
The raccoon was also gone. All that lay in their place was red snow.
Joan heard a snapping to her right! Nothing. Nothing was there. No twig. No dog. But the red lights on the rear of her car did cast a shadow. It was hard to tell what it was. Joan didn’t want to settle on this idea, but it looked nothing like a K-9.
Its muzzle could be mistaken as one owned by a dog at first glance, but it was too long.
That muzzle is too long. Way too long. Does it… have hair? What is this sweetness assaulting my nose?
Joan barely realized she was moving closer to the shape. It was only when it moved out of view that Joan realized she was right at the corner of the car. It was just then that she knew she could move her head just a bit forward to peek around that corner, see if it was still there, or bolt it and fire back at whatever might chase her down.
“Whatever?”
“Whatever” it must have been, was originally one of the greatest predators this planet has to offer. “Whatever” it was, became mans best friend sometime down the line of Earths history. “Whatever” this thing was, Joan couldn’t figure it out. “Whatever” it was, it’s making a noise...
Scratch
Scratch
Scratch
… it was metallic…
Scritch
Scratch
Scratch
… it was close…
Scrape
Scrape
Scratch
… the car…
Joan was doing it again. The scraping against the car drew her curiosity over the edge and around the corner. Joan didn’t see anything. Or so she would say if you ever asked her in person. She didn’t see something slink around the other side of the car. Out of site. Out of her mind. Insignificant enough for her to finally stand up from her crouched position.
Knees popped and ready to go, Joan pulled out her phone as she made her way to the road.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Hello, my name is Joan Edwards! I just got out of a car crash and my son is missing!” her teeth were chattering.
“OK, ma'am. Let’s remain calm and let me go over this situation with you very clearly. Are you hurt and do you know if your son is hurt?”
“I have some scrapes and bruises, but I’m fine. I’m not sure about my son. I went unconscious after the crash and never saw where he went.”
“OK. Now can you tell me where you are?”
“I’m, uh, on county road 36. Pretty sure that’s the last sign I saw.”
“Ma’am, please stay where you are and we’ll have a cruiser by in five.”
“Good, good. Thank you.”
“One more question though, Joan.”
“Huh?”
“Did you feel relief?”
“Excuse me?”
“Did you enjoy throwing your career in the trash?”
“What?!” Joan raised her voice as the pistol shook in her hand.
“Did you love pulling the trigger?!”
She hung up instantly after that. Her breathing was getting hard to keep control of. Head’s still throbbing. Hard to think straight. She didn’t want to admit it, but taking a quick breather didn't sound bad.
She reholstered the gun and sat against a nearby tree.
Cálmate, Joan. Think of one thing at a time if you need to. In fact, maybe think of something good to settle down. Think of a good song. Yeah.
This inner coping didn’t last long for Joan as she noticed a low sound. It was almost unnoticeable until she was finally able to focus. It was a crackling sound. Joane unholstered the gun once more and peeked around the tree.
Nothing.
It was strange. It began to sound like radio static, but even though Joan moved further towards the road, there was nothing in sight out of the ordinary. She exhaled in frustration and desired to go sit down again. But when she looked back at the tree again, it was gone.
She heard a loud scuttle behind her! She spun around and still saw nothing.
This night really needs to end.
The static began to play again.
“MoOoom. I’M rrrrigHt herE.”
The voice sounded like her sons. Distorted and low, but she could never mistake it. It was right next to her. But when she turned to look that way, all she saw was a circle of dark, red, gummy like flesh and a whirlwind of teeth in the middle of all of it.
She screamed and fell on her ass as the horrid excuse for a mouth attempted to bite at her! She raised the gun at it and fired off two rounds consecutively, only to miss as the amalgamation of flesh and teeth flew up in the air. No. It didn’t fly. Joan realized it just moved out of the way as she only needed to turn her head a little to the left to see the owner of that nightmarish maw.
It stood thirty, no, forty feet tall maybe. She thought back to the tree that disappeared mere seconds ago as its slender body had a brownish, rust color to it. But the skin seemed dry, old and definitely organic.
Her horrified and confused state of mind killed any time to rationally act and escape. The creature quickly swept her off the ground with ease with its long arms and held her up to reunite with that face. She could finally take in the details of it.
Around those hungry, snapping teeth was a metal rim. It seemed like its head was that of a horn and she could just barely see another right behind it.
The mouth got closer and closer, snapping every way. Then she snapped out of it and pressed the muzzle of her pistol against its chest, firing two more rounds into it. A high pitch sting emitted from its mouth as it violently spasmed and threw Joan into the forest.
Her body hit a branch and then another and another until her head met the cold, snowy ground. And it was dark again.
---
“Why!?”
The child was being held back by his mother as he thrashed and kicked. His snotty, crying face screamed in anger and sorrow.
“You killed my puppy! You killed my puppy!”
Joan wasn’t worried about the kid wanting to pummel her with his weak fists. She was afraid of the man with a shotgun now pointed at her.
“Why the fuck are you here?!” the man shouted, “Show me a warrant or I’ll blast your ass out of here!”
She didn’t even dare point her smoking gun at him, the one that had just taken the life of the pit bull that rushed at her just seconds ago. The gun that alerted the family of her presence in their backyard that she’d just fence hopped into. The gun that was given to her by the Police Department that sent her here to investigate this family of drug smuggling. The PD that hired the ass hole who told her they were going to do this their way. But even if her partner was an asshole, even if he recommended the plan first, she agreed to it. She agreed and she regretted from the moment she pulled the trigger, to the moment her partner called back up, to the moment that kid was left without a family when she was praised and hated for making one shitty neighborhood on this shitty planet safer. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t accept herself as a protector, so she put that shield on that desk and left.
But the gun remained hers. She swore to rarely touch it, but it was hers to learn with. She’d protect the only thing she knew that mattered in this world.
---
Joan awoke with the fuzzy thought that she’d probably need to see a doctor and check for brain damage after all this. Then she noticed something in the snow just next to her. It looked like bones.
They had fresh blood on them. They were small. And she noticed that there were still remains of flesh on them. Not familiar flesh, but still unfortunate flesh. Joan screamed and climbed to her feet. She didn’t want to look anymore.
She turned and walked away from the remains.
“M… mOmMY…”
The voice came from in front of her and she reached for her gun, but it wasn’t in her holster.
Must’ve flown somewhere.
She wasn’t going to be tricked again. Joan scanned the area and saw her pistol laying in the snow. She ran for it and heard long, rhythmic thuds in the snow following behind her.
It’s taller than you. It’s faster than you.
She dove for the gun and grasped it, quickly lining up the sights and firing off three shots before the thing jammed. She noticed it stopped moving towards her, the tall, twiggy, freaky creature. But it wasn’t down, just stunned as it knelt in the snow with a nice thud and gripped its chest. She took this moment to try and escape.
She dashed to who knows where but only after sprinting for a few seconds did she come across a white colored estate that she began to dart towards. She used every breath, every ounce of energy her body could use to get to the front door and if she had to blow it down, she would.
Thankfully, it was unlocked. She turned the handle all the way and busted that sucker open before slamming it on the face of that beast and locked the deadbolt. It didn’t even bang on the door once.
Joan backed away from the door and cleared the jammed chamber of her wet CZ. She then ejected the magazine from it, wiping it against her pant leg and stowed it away. She then locked the slide back on the pistol and blew into the chamber, rubbed the gun down on with her coat and slid in a dry, fresh new clip.
Then it was waiting time. It was going to be waiting time until Joan didn’t have the patience or stamina to wait. That stamina lasted five minutes. She tried to loosen up, if only just a little, and check around the house. It seemed empty. Residence probably took a vacation too. Hopefully, it wasn’t as bad as this one.
When Joan checked the second floor, she quickly came across a king-sized bed. It was calling her name.
---
Joan woke up in a panic! She needed to quit fucking around and find Nate. She jumped out of bed and was about to check the rest of the second floor of the house until she heard glass shatter downstairs.
She made her way to the stairs and waited there. She heard no footsteps. No movement whatsoever. But she could feel the presence of something coming. Its pale white, decayed head came into view over the stair railing near the bottom and turned it to look at her with a notable crack.
Behind this ghostly, horse-shaped head was a long neck that seemed to crack and pop with every movement. And it just kept getting longer. The head was carried up the stairs, getting closer to her. A strong, sweet smell was filling her nose. The now clear smell of cinnamon.
She fired.
The noise came and went, the muzzle flash cleared in an instant and like smoke being blown away, something else was revealed. Something took the place of the horse in an instant. It was Nate at the bottom of the stairs, his body slumped against the far wall, blood trickling down it and onto the floor.
“Nate!” Joan screamed and practically leaped down the stairs to cradle her son. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry baby!”
She reached for her phone, but it wasn’t in her pocket. Had it fallen out when she was thrown to the ground? Her eyes grew wet and her hand pressed tightly against her sons wound. To hopelessly help stop the bleeding. To put him out of his misery. To snuff out the problems she can’t face.
“YoU reALLy DoN’T caRe… dO yoU?”
The static-filled voice was at the front door that Joan didn’t even notice was open. It was the beast with the siren for a head. Its long arms reached into the house, making their way towards her.
“LiFE is NoThinG buT A MoMent to bE fORgoTTEn.”
Closer.
“NoThiNG wILL maTTer in tHe End.”
Closer.
“We WiLL aLL juSt fAde aWaY.”
“No!” Joan shouted.
The arms stopped suddenly and she took no second to wait and unloaded into the thing. Every shot pulsated her flaming hatred towards the thing with new life. New, willful life. A fiery warmth. A caring warmth.
Her head grew light with fury. Her vision was blinded by the stoked flames of survival. And her screams raged on. Raged on. Raged on and on until it wasn’t anger, but pain. And the light faded away in her vision.
She was back in the car. Her son was beside her with nary a few scrapes and bruises. Joan, however, had the branch stuck in her again. And this time it was dug closer into her vital regions.
“Mommy! I thought you were dead!”
Joan grunted, “I’m good baby.” She coughed and her lips felt wet, “Can you get Mommy’s phone from her pocket?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you dial 911?”
“Yeah.”
“You know what street we’re on?”
“Yeah. I remember the road last time we went to Grandmas.”
“Good,” she cried happily, painful, but happily and then patted his head “Thank you.”
Her eyes fluttered, grew heavy and the world was bright again.
---
Joan drives into the lot of the apartment complex and sighs. The last ticket was an annoying one. Sometimes she wonders if it was all worth coming back to. And then she notices Dan sitting outside her apartment with Nate playing in the lawn in front of it.
She steps out of her cruiser and asks, “Enjoying a good suntan?”
“Hey Joan, just enjoying a bud with a bud. How’s it feel being back on the force?”
“It’s still thankless, but if you met some of the guys I work with, I guess it’s understandable why,” she responds.
“Oh, I already know, Joan. Not even sure why you went back. I can still always use help if you want to.”
Joan just stares at Nate who’s a good fifteen or so feet away from them, playing pretend with a Nerf gun.
She says, “I can still help you when I’m off. I think that vacation was just good enough to let me remember what I need to protect.”
A kid from across the lot comes out of another apartment and shouts at the top of his lungs, “Nate! You wanna come over?!”
Nate looks to Joan, who just nods. He then runs off.
“You on break?” Dan asks.
“Yeah.”
“You want a beer?”
She stares at the drink in his hand, still looking cold and fresh from the condensation on this hot, spring day. Then she smells something all too familiar. The sweet scent of cinnamon. And then the sudden sound of static emits somewhere near her.
She grips her pistol and looks around only to quickly realize it’s her radio.
“424, we have a disturbance call on Cleveland Street,” a voice emits from the radio.
Joan wipes her forehead, “Got a call, buddy. Can’t.” She then brings her radio closer to her mouth whilst heading to her cruiser to respond, “This is 429, copy, en route.”
She grasps the handle of the car door and takes a second to see Nate heading into his friends' place. He closes the door behind him and she opens hers, hopping in and driving off without a worry in the world.
Dan chuckles, “Not like I was going to let you anyways.”
My music is special
When I put on my headphones
I’m transported to another world
I go to a world devoid of reason
Always changing
Molding with my emotions
Hungering for the attention
Devouring my feelings
Nobody can survive my music
Unless they repent
Admit what they did
And if they don’t
They always get carried away
And I never see them again
It’s a dangerous thing to share
But they make me
I wish they could enjoy it with me
I wish it didn’t scare them
The secrets it reveals
Whispers in their ears
Shows to their face
And I know they can’t handle it
They never can
The guilt
The time it took them to forget
The time it took them to not right that wrong
And they’re sorry
But sorry is never enough
No
They can’t get away with sorry
So they get carried away
By the people in scrubs
To have a real lesson be taught
But I always learn my lesson
I always try to
I for one enjoy facing my demons
And they are proud of me
Oh, so proud
Toby ran
Ran as fast as he could
He was not going to fail
Not going to fudge this plan
Even if his pursuer was on his heels
He wouldn't give up
Oh no
Not by a long shot
It was just a few more turns down this hallway
One left
One right
Another left
Followed by another
Yes
It was going to be OK
As long as he could shake off that horrid sniffing
That wretched huffing
Panting
Scampering of claws
He knew that one look back would mean no more jugular
No more future
No way to repay his debt
Her room was close
So, so close and near
Just a turn here and…
Was this hallway repeating?
He could have sworn there was a right at the end of this hall
But no, there was only a wall
And a left to restart this all
Toby couldn’t run forever
He couldn’t fight this test
No
Never
As impossible as it seemed
The panting grew closer
And closer
Like it was in his head
Making Toby want to scream
And he did
He screamed and ran down the dark hallway
Promising never to look that way
So as not to look at the beast behind
And travel through this building that winds
He could barely even remember how he got here
Seeking her, right?
But how would he know she’s here?
She shouldn’t
She should be six feet under
But now he’s stuck here with a hunter
A punisher
Executioner
He faltered
His legs are scratched up
He never felt it strike him
But they were bleeding
Oh yes
And now his chest felt hot
Same with his face
His arms
They felt loose too
His…
His arms began to flail
Unwind
Fly in the wind as parts of them separated
He was like an arts and crafts piece
His arms unwinded in a spiral-like nature
Same with his legs, making his steps wider, but decreasing the speed
Then his neck began to loosen from his body in the same way
As if it was flying away
And his head began to roll back
Seeing what was behind him
Her face
All he could see was her face
And it hated him
And all he could still do was scream
Even though it shouldn’t be possible
He took all of his power
All of his body
All of his will
To scream for forgiveness
And she would not give it as his let go completely
As he spiraled into madness
And succumbed to his fate
