Scary Monsters [Microfiction]
A bit longer today, at just under 500 words. So this is more flash than micro- but I like it anyhoo. Also no italics as I don't want to hurt your eyes. Comes out of some conversations with ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
markteppo . It is related to sekrits. I shall say no more.
What are we doing here?
Big question. And some of us have answers. And some of us don't.
What am I doing here, outside this door? What am I doing with this gun in my hand?
I knock with the butt three times. I wait. I hear feet on the far side of the door. I hear them hesitate.
“Who's there?” A woman's voice, light, not quite afraid, not yet. But it's a voice that knows there are things to be afraid of. It's a voice that knows there are monsters out there.
That's why I'm here. I tell myself that, in my head, maybe even mutter it out loud before I answer her. That's why I'm here.
“Gas leak in 15B,” I say. “Just need to check if everything's OK.”
A pause. Then, “I don't smell anything.”
“I still gotta check.”
A second pause. This one's longer.
“Call the super if you want,” I say. “I can wait.”
Pause number three. “No. It's OK,” she says. “Give me a moment.”
I hear her undo the latch, hear her turn the lock. I ready the weapon. She opens the door.
She looks like she's maybe thirty, maybe forty. Dark, shoulder-length hair, eyes placed just a little too wide.
I recognize the look in those eyes. She knows there are monsters out there. She knows full well. She knows her own. For all she looks like my neighbor, like yours, she isn't. Just another parasite.
Her wide eyes widen further. She opens her mouth. I pull the trigger.
As the bullet leaves the barrel I hear the thing inside of her shriek, see it try to pull it's way out of her though her mouth, white and segmented as it is, see it try and unwrap its tendrils from behind her brainstem, try to leave this empty corpse and scamper for the nearest piece of cover.
The bullet hits it in its yellow mouth, between its myriad eyes, and she and it punch apart, fall apart, tumble to the floor.
Job done.
Then there's a yell, a scream. A boy runs into view. He sees the woman, the thing that used to be his mother. He screams again. Can't be more than eight. Doesn't look more than eight.
Looks can be deceiving.
Why am I here?
There's no way to tell if he's infected too, if they have him. Not now.
Why am I here?
I pull the trigger. The boy drops. I turn away, but I can still here his scream. It's in my head and it won't get out. It shakes in me as I walk down the hall, as I holster my pistol. I hear that second scream, that scream from when he saw the body. That scream from when he knew the truth.
There are monsters out there.
markteppo . It is related to sekrits. I shall say no more.What are we doing here?
Big question. And some of us have answers. And some of us don't.
What am I doing here, outside this door? What am I doing with this gun in my hand?
I knock with the butt three times. I wait. I hear feet on the far side of the door. I hear them hesitate.
“Who's there?” A woman's voice, light, not quite afraid, not yet. But it's a voice that knows there are things to be afraid of. It's a voice that knows there are monsters out there.
That's why I'm here. I tell myself that, in my head, maybe even mutter it out loud before I answer her. That's why I'm here.
“Gas leak in 15B,” I say. “Just need to check if everything's OK.”
A pause. Then, “I don't smell anything.”
“I still gotta check.”
A second pause. This one's longer.
“Call the super if you want,” I say. “I can wait.”
Pause number three. “No. It's OK,” she says. “Give me a moment.”
I hear her undo the latch, hear her turn the lock. I ready the weapon. She opens the door.
She looks like she's maybe thirty, maybe forty. Dark, shoulder-length hair, eyes placed just a little too wide.
I recognize the look in those eyes. She knows there are monsters out there. She knows full well. She knows her own. For all she looks like my neighbor, like yours, she isn't. Just another parasite.
Her wide eyes widen further. She opens her mouth. I pull the trigger.
As the bullet leaves the barrel I hear the thing inside of her shriek, see it try to pull it's way out of her though her mouth, white and segmented as it is, see it try and unwrap its tendrils from behind her brainstem, try to leave this empty corpse and scamper for the nearest piece of cover.
The bullet hits it in its yellow mouth, between its myriad eyes, and she and it punch apart, fall apart, tumble to the floor.
Job done.
Then there's a yell, a scream. A boy runs into view. He sees the woman, the thing that used to be his mother. He screams again. Can't be more than eight. Doesn't look more than eight.
Looks can be deceiving.
Why am I here?
There's no way to tell if he's infected too, if they have him. Not now.
Why am I here?
I pull the trigger. The boy drops. I turn away, but I can still here his scream. It's in my head and it won't get out. It shakes in me as I walk down the hall, as I holster my pistol. I hear that second scream, that scream from when he saw the body. That scream from when he knew the truth.
There are monsters out there.
Yes. Yes, there are. Nicely done.
Just a first pass at this sort of idea. Needs some refinement. And probably a little visual inspiration :)