Mystic Elevator
Screw you guys, I'm going home -or- Cowering in fear
Whatever is going on in the city is serious. Clearly. You turn your car around and press down on the accelerator.
The homes and businesses that you pass on your way home become increasingly familiar. You can't help but notice the absense of other people, though. No one is outside at all, much less driving.
All is silent on the drive home. Not a bird chirps, not a dog barks. Every sound you make seems to echo too loud, the roll of your tires and the hum of your engine are all that make a sound.
Something heavy and cold curls up inside your stomach and grips it tight as you pull into your neighborhood. It's early in the day and yet no one is out.
When you get out of your car you hear one of the neighbor's dogs barking at you. Given the absense of any noise on the way home, the sound of the dog should comfort you. It doesn't. It seems too loud, somehow; as though nothing should be making any noise.
The key is shakey in your grasp as you struggle to unlock your door. Finally managing to do so, you push it open and make a hasty entrance into the house; quickly locking the door behind you.
You take a piss first. You've needed to do so for a while and it was starting to get uncomfortable. You piss so long that your eyes begin tearing up and then finally you stop. You wash your hands and make your way back to the living room, turning the television on as you sit down.
Every channel that you flip to is either static or the full screen color bar. The speakers hiss like a old cassette tape. Eventually you turn it off.
You start to grow hungry; that or the cold thing in your stomach is just moving around again. You pop a frozen dinner into the microwave and set it for five minutes, the low hum of the machine somehow lending you comfort. You get yourself a much needed beer out of the fridge as your dinner cooks; it's an Scottish Stout from Belhaven Brewery. Roasted malts and coffee/chocolate flavors fill your mouth. You look at the bottle again, admiring the brew within.
A 'BEEP BEEP BEEP' blares from the microwave and the absent hum of the machine returns you to the eerie quiet of the world tonight. You pop the door open and start to pull your dinner out when you hear the unmistakeable sound of your front door creaking open.
A chill goes down your spine and you shiver slightly. You grab the chef's knife from your kitchen set and step quietly towards the living room. Something is moving around in there.
"Hello?" You call out as you continue to cautiously approach. At the sound of your voice the noise it was making stops. Everything is silent again. You shouldn't have spoke.
It begins moving soon, it sounds human. A man steps into the hallway between the living room and the kitchen. Your eyes and his meet. There's something different in his eyes, though. They're almost reptilian. You swallow hard. A bead of sweat rolls slowly down your neck. He smiles at you; a wide, cruel smile that spreads slowly across his face to rows of pointed teeth.
You grip the knife in your hand and prepare for the worst. "Get the hell out of my house," you tell him.
He tilts his head back and laughs a deep throaty laugh. Then he shakes his head 'no' to you and starts moving toward you. You prepare yourself to fight him, getting your knife in a striking position. You tense as he is almost in range and then suddenly he is upon you in a blur; moving too fast for you to react.
He leaps at you; his feet on your midsection and hands on your shoulders. As you fall backward to the ground beneath his weight you can sense his hunger. Something instinctual awakens in you, though perhaps too late. He is a predator and you are his prey.
You slash at him with the knife, the blade tearing a slash in his shirt and draws a line of blood along his rib. He pays it no mind. His teeth sink into your flesh like a thousand razors and you scream in both pain and terror as he rips out the muscle and tendon from your shoulder.
He devours you slowly, relishing in his accomplishment. Soon others arrive to help him, members of his pack or something. They all look human enough but they're clearly something else.
You remember a camping trip with your grandparents when you were a child, a fish you caught with your father in your teens, your first kiss, your first blowjob. You experience everything again as though it had just happened and then you reach the point where you die again.
And it begins to sink in.
Whatever is going on in the city is serious. Clearly. You turn your car around and press down on the accelerator.
The homes and businesses that you pass on your way home become increasingly familiar. You can't help but notice the absense of other people, though. No one is outside at all, much less driving.
All is silent on the drive home. Not a bird chirps, not a dog barks. Every sound you make seems to echo too loud, the roll of your tires and the hum of your engine are all that make a sound.
Something heavy and cold curls up inside your stomach and grips it tight as you pull into your neighborhood. It's early in the day and yet no one is out.
When you get out of your car you hear one of the neighbor's dogs barking at you. Given the absense of any noise on the way home, the sound of the dog should comfort you. It doesn't. It seems too loud, somehow; as though nothing should be making any noise.
The key is shakey in your grasp as you struggle to unlock your door. Finally managing to do so, you push it open and make a hasty entrance into the house; quickly locking the door behind you.
You take a piss first. You've needed to do so for a while and it was starting to get uncomfortable. You piss so long that your eyes begin tearing up and then finally you stop. You wash your hands and make your way back to the living room, turning the television on as you sit down.
Every channel that you flip to is either static or the full screen color bar. The speakers hiss like a old cassette tape. Eventually you turn it off.
You start to grow hungry; that or the cold thing in your stomach is just moving around again. You pop a frozen dinner into the microwave and set it for five minutes, the low hum of the machine somehow lending you comfort. You get yourself a much needed beer out of the fridge as your dinner cooks; it's an Scottish Stout from Belhaven Brewery. Roasted malts and coffee/chocolate flavors fill your mouth. You look at the bottle again, admiring the brew within.
A 'BEEP BEEP BEEP' blares from the microwave and the absent hum of the machine returns you to the eerie quiet of the world tonight. You pop the door open and start to pull your dinner out when you hear the unmistakeable sound of your front door creaking open.
A chill goes down your spine and you shiver slightly. You grab the chef's knife from your kitchen set and step quietly towards the living room. Something is moving around in there.
"Hello?" You call out as you continue to cautiously approach. At the sound of your voice the noise it was making stops. Everything is silent again. You shouldn't have spoke.
It begins moving soon, it sounds human. A man steps into the hallway between the living room and the kitchen. Your eyes and his meet. There's something different in his eyes, though. They're almost reptilian. You swallow hard. A bead of sweat rolls slowly down your neck. He smiles at you; a wide, cruel smile that spreads slowly across his face to rows of pointed teeth.
You grip the knife in your hand and prepare for the worst. "Get the hell out of my house," you tell him.
He tilts his head back and laughs a deep throaty laugh. Then he shakes his head 'no' to you and starts moving toward you. You prepare yourself to fight him, getting your knife in a striking position. You tense as he is almost in range and then suddenly he is upon you in a blur; moving too fast for you to react.
He leaps at you; his feet on your midsection and hands on your shoulders. As you fall backward to the ground beneath his weight you can sense his hunger. Something instinctual awakens in you, though perhaps too late. He is a predator and you are his prey.
You slash at him with the knife, the blade tearing a slash in his shirt and draws a line of blood along his rib. He pays it no mind. His teeth sink into your flesh like a thousand razors and you scream in both pain and terror as he rips out the muscle and tendon from your shoulder.
He devours you slowly, relishing in his accomplishment. Soon others arrive to help him, members of his pack or something. They all look human enough but they're clearly something else.
You remember a camping trip with your grandparents when you were a child, a fish you caught with your father in your teens, your first kiss, your first blowjob. You experience everything again as though it had just happened and then you reach the point where you die again.
And it begins to sink in.
