Goblins by David Bernstein

all did. He gave his name and address, then said, “I’m the father of the missing boy, the little leaguer who disappeared. He’s here. At the house. Please, we need an ambulance and the police.”
    The air around Jacob shimmered again, and as it did so, he sprang forward and landed on Sonya’s chest. She stumbled back with a scream and crashed into the wall. Jacob was gone, replaced by the creature Dean had seen through the shimmering haze. The thing’s clawed feet were embedded into Sonya’s chest. It climbed up to her face, blood decorating the front of her shirt. She continued to scream and swatted at the thing in the sides, arms and head. It didn’t seem to notice or care and wrapped its legs around her throat. It then sunk one of its clawed hands into the side of her head. Sonya stopped screaming. Her eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets. A nauseating ripping and suctioning sound filled the air as the creature ripped open her skull. A fraction of a second later, a single chunk of flesh, bone and scalp flapped along the side of her head as if it was on a hinge, leaving her brain exposed. The olive-green monster glistened in crimson. Letting loose a chuckle, it opened its wide maw and sank its face into Sonya’s skull, like a starving canine does when its bowl is filled with food. The creature’s head came up a moment later, its cheeks bulging with gray matter.
    Dean’s bladder released itself. He wasn’t breathing and felt like he’d been hit in the gut with a sledgehammer. He told himself he was dreaming. He didn’t need to do anything. He’d wake soon.
    Sonya’s corpse collapsed to the floor. The creature adjusted itself during the fall and was now on the upper part of her chest. It lifted her head up by the hair, and with its other hand, scooped out the rest of her brain.
    Dean sucked in a breath. The sharp scent of copper wafted over him, mixing with the pungent scent of urine and feces. The horrid odor from before was there too. All the smells mixing together were overwhelming, and he didn’t remember being able to detect smells in a dream.
    Dean closed his eyes and prayed to wake up. There was no point in looking at the creature or his wife’s dead body. It wasn’t real and there was no point in watching the carnage. His alcohol-depraved mind had imagined this nightmare. It wanted to fuck with him. Show him what withholding liquor would do to him.
    Scraping noises filled his ears. Nail on bone. He knew it was the creature’s claws raking against the inside of his wife’s skull, cleaning it out and wanting every last morsel, like a kid running a spoon around the inside of a emptied cake batter bowl.
    Damn, why wasn’t he waking up? Shutting his eyes was doing little to stop the awful images. His brain was conjuring them up just fine to go along with each dreadful sound.
    He was scared, though he knew he shouldn’t be. What was happening was only a nightmare. To further bolster his belief, he thought of his son and how the boy had simply turned up out of the blue. Such a thing didn’t happen in real life. Let alone him turning into a monster.
    When he woke, he’d be upset. He’d been given his son back only to learn it was bullshit, and on top of that, his boy had turned into a monster and killed his mother. Maybe he had drunk the alcohol and was passed out in the basement.
    Fuck, he was pissed now—sobriety down the drain and a horrible dream to boot.
    The room was suddenly quiet. Maybe his anger had flushed the little green goblin away.
    Goblin?
    Maybe he was taking control of his dream, not letting his imagination get the best of him.
    Dean opened his eyes and nearly jumped. The creature was standing a foot away from him, covered in gore—pieces of flesh and sheets of blood. He looked into its eyes and saw a reflection of himself and the surrounding room, the peepers like giant