The Horrible Thing That Slipped Through My Window One Night
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The corpse looked down at the unconscious body. This one had put up a fight, but he had finally given up, as the corpse had known he would. A small line of blood ran from beneath his head and pooled onto the wooden floor; he had hit the wall hard. The thing reached down with its grungy hand (the one that still had all of the fingers) and lifted up the boy's eyelids, so that the whites were showing clearly. It studied them.
After a few moments it brought down its mutilated hand and held the eyelids open with the thumb and pinky instead. It reached back its good hand, extended the index and middle fingers, and then rammed them deep into the eye sockets, forcing the white globes to jump outward. The creature scooped them up, the optic nerves dangling from them like leeches on a beach ball. It turned one of the eyes so that the pupil was facing it, and gazed. It was light brown. The thing shoved the eye in its mouth and crushed it between the roof of its mouth and its tongue, feeling puss squirt from it as it popped. The thing couldn't taste, but it didn't mind; the act was what mattered. It swallowed the first, and then ate the other eye.
It licked the boy's dying face, and then yanked the tongue from his mouth with its good hand. The thing chewed it off slowly, using the one rotted molar it had left, deep in the cavity of its mouth. When the tongue was severed and the boy's throat began to fill up with scarlet blood, the thing ate the tongue.
It took hold of the boy's leg and drug his body to the front door, casually. As it did so, there came a faint buzzing noise, and the light in the kitchen suddenly flicked back on of its own accord. The thing pulled open the door and took the body outside. It didn't care so much for the light.
The clouds were passing by in the dark sky and the very first stars were beginning to appear above the house. The sound of crickets and other insects filled the twilight. The thing sensed that it was being called back home.
The corpse drug Tom's body down the wooden steps, past the yard, and into the woods. It was headed towards the cemetery, where it belonged. It didn't much care for the cemetery; it was always cold and lonely there. But at least it now had some company. That was good.
The thing grinned its horrible grin at the dark sky.
A little company was always good.
The corpse looked down at the unconscious body. This one had put up a fight, but he had finally given up, as the corpse had known he would. A small line of blood ran from beneath his head and pooled onto the wooden floor; he had hit the wall hard. The thing reached down with its grungy hand (the one that still had all of the fingers) and lifted up the boy's eyelids, so that the whites were showing clearly. It studied them.
After a few moments it brought down its mutilated hand and held the eyelids open with the thumb and pinky instead. It reached back its good hand, extended the index and middle fingers, and then rammed them deep into the eye sockets, forcing the white globes to jump outward. The creature scooped them up, the optic nerves dangling from them like leeches on a beach ball. It turned one of the eyes so that the pupil was facing it, and gazed. It was light brown. The thing shoved the eye in its mouth and crushed it between the roof of its mouth and its tongue, feeling puss squirt from it as it popped. The thing couldn't taste, but it didn't mind; the act was what mattered. It swallowed the first, and then ate the other eye.
It licked the boy's dying face, and then yanked the tongue from his mouth with its good hand. The thing chewed it off slowly, using the one rotted molar it had left, deep in the cavity of its mouth. When the tongue was severed and the boy's throat began to fill up with scarlet blood, the thing ate the tongue.
It took hold of the boy's leg and drug his body to the front door, casually. As it did so, there came a faint buzzing noise, and the light in the kitchen suddenly flicked back on of its own accord. The thing pulled open the door and took the body outside. It didn't care so much for the light.
The clouds were passing by in the dark sky and the very first stars were beginning to appear above the house. The sound of crickets and other insects filled the twilight. The thing sensed that it was being called back home.
The corpse drug Tom's body down the wooden steps, past the yard, and into the woods. It was headed towards the cemetery, where it belonged. It didn't much care for the cemetery; it was always cold and lonely there. But at least it now had some company. That was good.
The thing grinned its horrible grin at the dark sky.
A little company was always good.
