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As the moon shines a pale light around the city of Clarksville, Kentucky, the fog grows ever closer to the town square. We enter a mildly dilapidated home, where our aspiring author, Jonathan, sits at his dusty and unkempt table, tapping away at his MacBook, hoping to get the attention of a publisher. The wind blows through the window, shaking the dull grey curtains hanging like bats. The silence is agonizing. The only thing heard through the dining room is frantic backspacing.

But then, something else chipped in to add to the noise. A creak. Jumping at the sound, Jon flicked his head around, only to be greeted with a noisy orange blob.

The blur taunted his paranoia with a small mew.

"Mrrr?"

"Whew... Just Lucky. Scared me there, buddy,” Jon chuckled while petting the orange furry friend. Jon had come across Lucky when driving to his parents' house for Thanksgiving dinner. The poor feline had matted fur and seemed to be shivering. After getting the proper shots and neutering the lovable orange kitty, Lucky belonged to Jon.

But as the patter of paws and ringing of the bell attached to Lucky's collar disappeared into the guest room, the creaking drew closer. Nervously making conversation with himself, Jon proclaimed, "This house is fairly old... I should expect a couple of noises here and there."

The wind stopped, but it felt as if the air around him got colder. Jon swore he felt hot, moist breath on his neck. The creaks grew closer and louder, and yet Jon didn’t dare touch the light switch for fear of who or what was behind him. Soft groans came from both sides of his ear, causing Jon to recoil in fear. Sounds of a liquid dripping echoed from behind the chair he sat in. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead, splashing onto the home row keys. Jon timidly looked to his right, seeing a long pair of dirty claws tapping on the pale green wall. Quickly, he turned back to the glow of his computer. To keep himself busy, Jon pecked at the keys of his laptop, creating a new scenario for the world he had created in the span of three hours.

“Jonathan?”

Jon winced at the sound of the rough and phlegm-filled voice. The words had stung his ears and neck. How did it know his name? His eyes darted to a single finger resting on the table next to his mouse. Jon's stomach gurgled with uneasiness, causing bile to rise from his throat. He bit his lip to prevent his tear ducts from destroying the figurative dam that contained his salty tears. Jon opened his mouth to speak to the figure behind him, only for it to interrupt and answer his unspoken question.

“How do I know who you are? Oh, Jonathan, how easily you forget... I am the monster that hides under your bed, in your closet, and in the empty blackness of your room. The thing children see in their bad dreams. Little do they know, I always wait for them. The one day they’re caught off guard and forget their childhood fears. That’s when I strike. Every time your night light went out was me removing the bulbs. I've known you forever, Jonathan.”

Warm tears ran down Jon’s face, mucus covering his upper lip. The disgustingly slender finger wiped his eyes. “Jonathan, my dear boy, don’t cry. It’s okay. You won’t have to worry again,” the creature spoke, hot breath ever so prevalent. Jon felt a tongue lick every corner of his outer ear. He sobbed even harder, the pungent odor of its breath causing chunks of vomit to spill onto Jon's shirt. “It’s time, Jonathan. Don’t weep, my friend. I’m saving you from the horrors of Earth. Poverty, illness, death, war. A man of your strength doesn’t deserve anything such as that,” the creature hissed into both ears.

The monster spun the chair 180° to face Jon. He was greeted with a pale creature that looked around 7’2. The claws were about a forearm long, caked with dirt and dried blood. It had no muscle or organs to be seen, causing the ribs to be easily seen. The mouth was painted a dark crimson with blunt, eerily human teeth. Two rows per jaw. The eyes pure white orbs sunken in its skull. Staring into them for too long could drive the most empty man insane.

It unhinged its jaw and inserted Jon and his chair into its cavernous mouth. While being crushed to death, Jon heard a noise from the neck of the inhuman creature. A bell ringing. The same on Lucky's collar. Wait...

Where was Lucky?

A single chirp of the feline was the last noise heard from the outside world before Jon was contorted into an oblong lunch for the giant pale beast.

--

The police arrived at the scene with complaints from neighbors of 12th St. of screams of pain and crushing that could only come from bones. When using a battering ram to get through the locked door, the house was empty, but a horrifying scene painted the dining room. Blood had been soaked into the wooden floor. A Mac sat on the table, coated in a sticky red substance. But, completely unharmed and napping on the now reddened table, lay the loveable orange kitty, Lucky.

The cat stretched its legs and gave a large yawn before jumping down and trotting into the forest behind Jon's house. The most confusing part of it all was the lack of a visible corpse. It seemed there wasn't one. The last thing one of the officers had seen at that house was a pair of beady white eyes attached to a slender figure peeking out from the trees behind the home, until disappearing into the night, leaving nothing but a single finger and crunched dead leaves behind.




Written by PrenatalCranialDeformation
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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