hardware store on the counter and yelled for Erica, receiving no reply. The kitchen and bedroom lights were on but there was no trace of Erica or anything missing.
Tony picked up the phone off the kitchen counter and called Erica. A faint pulsing buzz that coincided with the ringing on the phone line emanated from the coat closet. Tony wondered why she would leave her cell in the closet and opened the door. First, an odd odor told him something was wrong before his brain registered the feet and legs protruding from the darkness of the closet floor.
“Erica… sweetie?”
Tony bent down. Erica’s skin was ice cold. He gently pulled her torso out of the dark depth of closet into the light. He covered his mouth when he saw the look of horror frozen on her face and her open but lifeless eyes. The little he moved her lifted her blouse, exposing her bloody belly. A few centimeters above her bellybutton was a large hole about the size of a child’s fist. Tony couldn’t help but think it looked like something had burrowed into her.
He stood up- banging his head on the closet shelf. Tony watched as the little empty glass box fell to the ground breaking off a piece of glass that was already partly detached and hanging off to the side.
“What the f… Ahhhh !”
The steel blade of a kitchen paring knife sliced Tony’s left Achilles tendon. A sharp pain shot through the back of his foot and leg. He lost his balance and fell backwards, hitting his head on the granite countertop on the way down.
Tony woke to an awful burning on his chest and stomach. He could tell he was lying on the floor. He tried to move his hands and feet but they were securely tied and splayed out. He looked down to see his work shirt unbuttoned, his under shirt pulled up, and a large patch of his skin removed. He pulled against what he realized was the missing shoelaces and began to yell.
He fell silent with astonishment when he saw a tiny figure climb onto his torso. It was a little naked man no bigger than Tony’s thumb. He moved peculiar and slow and looked almost aboriginal. The little man’s hair and skin didn’t seem to match, like a patchwork doll. His mouth was bloody and face incomplete, he was missing something; his eyes.
The little man slowly lumbered to Tony’s face. Tony closed his eyes as the man climbed over Tony’s chin. When he felt the tiny fingers forcing his eyelids open, Tony began to scream again and then louder still when the microscopic fingernails penetrated the soft tissue of his retinas.
Rotted Soil
Hugging William, his mom told him how she appreciated him coming out to his grandpa’s farm. She had brought him out to stay for the week.
I wish grandpa did.” William replied with a tinge of sarcasm.
Holding him at arm’s length she looked at William “He may not show it but I know he does.” She said with a somber smile.
Letting go, she turned to walk towards the car. “I will be back to pick you up next Sunday around six.” She hollered without turning around.
“If you remember.” He whispered to himself. She gave William a little wave then jumped into the old station wagon. William stood feeling marooned as he watched his mom’s taillights disappear in the dust.
His Grandfather was at “The Pigs Ear”, the only bar in town. He was a man of routines and days were ended with “the boys” down at “The Piggy” (as locals lovingly called it). William’s mom had given him a key to the old place before they left. She kept a spare key in case of emergencies. She had also laid down grandpa’s house rules. This left William less than enthusiastic about the week.
The outside had looked a bit rundown but somewhat welcoming. Inside of the house was a different story. The downstairs living room was dark and shadowy. A pungent smell hung in the air. The smell was like dust and what William could only accredit to “old person”. The stairway wall was filled with picture frames. Some pictures were of
Tony picked up the phone off the kitchen counter and called Erica. A faint pulsing buzz that coincided with the ringing on the phone line emanated from the coat closet. Tony wondered why she would leave her cell in the closet and opened the door. First, an odd odor told him something was wrong before his brain registered the feet and legs protruding from the darkness of the closet floor.
“Erica… sweetie?”
Tony bent down. Erica’s skin was ice cold. He gently pulled her torso out of the dark depth of closet into the light. He covered his mouth when he saw the look of horror frozen on her face and her open but lifeless eyes. The little he moved her lifted her blouse, exposing her bloody belly. A few centimeters above her bellybutton was a large hole about the size of a child’s fist. Tony couldn’t help but think it looked like something had burrowed into her.
He stood up- banging his head on the closet shelf. Tony watched as the little empty glass box fell to the ground breaking off a piece of glass that was already partly detached and hanging off to the side.
“What the f… Ahhhh !”
The steel blade of a kitchen paring knife sliced Tony’s left Achilles tendon. A sharp pain shot through the back of his foot and leg. He lost his balance and fell backwards, hitting his head on the granite countertop on the way down.
Tony woke to an awful burning on his chest and stomach. He could tell he was lying on the floor. He tried to move his hands and feet but they were securely tied and splayed out. He looked down to see his work shirt unbuttoned, his under shirt pulled up, and a large patch of his skin removed. He pulled against what he realized was the missing shoelaces and began to yell.
He fell silent with astonishment when he saw a tiny figure climb onto his torso. It was a little naked man no bigger than Tony’s thumb. He moved peculiar and slow and looked almost aboriginal. The little man’s hair and skin didn’t seem to match, like a patchwork doll. His mouth was bloody and face incomplete, he was missing something; his eyes.
The little man slowly lumbered to Tony’s face. Tony closed his eyes as the man climbed over Tony’s chin. When he felt the tiny fingers forcing his eyelids open, Tony began to scream again and then louder still when the microscopic fingernails penetrated the soft tissue of his retinas.
Rotted Soil
Hugging William, his mom told him how she appreciated him coming out to his grandpa’s farm. She had brought him out to stay for the week.
I wish grandpa did.” William replied with a tinge of sarcasm.
Holding him at arm’s length she looked at William “He may not show it but I know he does.” She said with a somber smile.
Letting go, she turned to walk towards the car. “I will be back to pick you up next Sunday around six.” She hollered without turning around.
“If you remember.” He whispered to himself. She gave William a little wave then jumped into the old station wagon. William stood feeling marooned as he watched his mom’s taillights disappear in the dust.
His Grandfather was at “The Pigs Ear”, the only bar in town. He was a man of routines and days were ended with “the boys” down at “The Piggy” (as locals lovingly called it). William’s mom had given him a key to the old place before they left. She kept a spare key in case of emergencies. She had also laid down grandpa’s house rules. This left William less than enthusiastic about the week.
The outside had looked a bit rundown but somewhat welcoming. Inside of the house was a different story. The downstairs living room was dark and shadowy. A pungent smell hung in the air. The smell was like dust and what William could only accredit to “old person”. The stairway wall was filled with picture frames. Some pictures were of
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