Dorothy and Nora had been driving
the deserted countryside lost for hours. They had made a lovely picnic on the
shore, but had missed a turn somewhere on the way home. They had ridden in
silence for the last half hour when Dorothy spoke.
"I really have to use the
john."
“Do you want me to pull over so
that you can go by the road? We haven’t seen anyone else for a while.”
“I can’t do it in the woods
beside the road!”
That was when Dorothy finally saw some
sign of human life. There were tire tracks off the side of the road. The tracks
lead up a hill and on top of the hill, she saw a house.
"Nora, turn right here."
Nora turned the car and they were jostled by the bumpy hill.
"Slow down Nora!"
"I thought you liked bumpy rides," Nora said, but she downshifted
anyway and eased the car over the hills and the holes of the yard up to the
house.
Dorothy looked at the dark house and hoped for someone friendly and some sort of
facilities. Almost before Nora had stopped the car Dorothy had jumped out
and hurried to the door. She looked around as she went to see if she could get
a glimpse of an outhouse.
"You can stop dancing, I'm sure they will let you in." Nora joined
Dorothy at the door and was adjusting her hat. Dorothy knocked on the door and
it opened a bit. She stuck her head inside and choked on the smell of decay. It
reminded her of the summer she had lived above the butcher’s shop.
"Hello?" Nora called out from behind her. She pushed the door open
further and then wrapped her arm around Dorothy and guided her in.
"Is
anyone here? We're lost and my friend here needs to use your powder room."
There were no lights on inside the house, only the dim light that streamed in
from the windows. Nora crinkled her nose.
"It smells like a barrel of
rotten apples in here."
Dorothy knew that smell was not
rotten apples. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Past Nora, she saw the old
woman staring at them from the corner.
"Nora..." Dorothy nodded her head towards the old woman. Nora looked
over and saw her.
"Oh, I am sorry. I have forgotten my manners, but you see, we have been
driving a long time and we are lost and tired. My name is Nora, and this is my
friend Dorothy. I hope you don't mind, but the door was open..."
The old woman just stared at them. Her chin was almost touching her chest and
she was looking up at them. She clutched a dirty rag doll to her breast and her
mouth was moving slightly like she was muttering, but there was no noise.
"Nora, let's just go."
Dorothy no longer had to go to the bathroom,
and if the urge came back she would gladly pee on the side of the road in front
of God and everybody, but she suddenly needed to leave this house.
"Are you ill?" Nora let go of Dorothy and started to walk towards the
old woman. "Do you need some help?"
"Nora, I think she's okay like she is, please, I think we need to just
leave."
Nora reached out and touched the old woman's hand, "Can I..."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" The old woman leaned up and screamed
in Nora's face. Nora stumbled back and her body twisted as she fell on a small
table breaking it. The old woman and ran out of the room laughing a high,
shrieking laughter.
Dorothy ran over to Nora and tried to help her up. "Oh Nora, are you okay?
Please let's go now."
"Okay, I ...oh! Ouch!" Nora could not stand up. Glistening, dark
blood ran through her torn stocking and down her leg. Dorothy removed her
scarf and wiped at the blood. There was a long scrape down Nora's leg with a
large splinter of wood embedded in her calf.
"Nora, you're hurt and I can't stay here. I'm going to wrap this up
and help you to the car and then we are leaving. When we are away from
here, I will stop and get that wood out, but we are leaving first." As she
talked, Dorothy wrapped the wound with her scarf. Nora winced as she tied it
tight. A door opened near them.
A soft, frail light fell into the room. There was the old woman again,
watching, holding a candle. Behind her there was a wet smooshing sound and a
muffled moaning.
"This crazy old bird is going to kill us," Dorothy muttered as she
locked her gaze with the old woman. Then the old woman stepped to the side, and
Dorothy saw what was on the floor next to the door. Her brain could
not make sense of what she saw. It was man-shaped, but it was a mushy, bloody,
undulating mess. The darkness of the house seemed to swirl behind him. There
were what looked like pockets of meat on the floor next to him, attached by
slimy stands.
"Oh, those as his insides. What happened to his skin? How..." Dorothy
peed. She never noticed. She cried and never noticed. Nora yelled at her, and
she never noticed. She just saw him as he began to make sense. She stood there
staring at this man as a long, bloody limb reached out to her. It was his hand.
A blood bubble formed where his mouth should be and then died.
At the sound of laughter, Dorothy looked over at the old woman. She was looking
down at the mess that had once been a man, shaking the doll at him, and
laughing. The laughter turned to screaming and then laughing again. The
swirling darkness seemed to move from him to her. It whirled around her
hand holding the doll. It crept up her arm. Screaming now, she shook her arm
and tried to move. The darkness wrapped around her greedily. Dorothy saw
her hold the doll close to her and then the old woman was turned inside out,
like a stocking. It sounded like someone slurping the last bits of an egg cream
from a glass.
She felt a sharp pain and her head rocked to the side.
"Get out of here!" Nora was standing on one leg yelling in her face. Dorothy wrapped her arm around Nora's side and started to move towards the door. She felt a chill around her ankles and she tried to run. The feeling was sticky like taffy and cold like ice. It pulsed up her body and she was suddenly face to face with Nora. They were bound tightly together by the sticky cold. They no longer looked like two separate people.
A sound echoed through the house, a wet, slurping sound. It did sound very much like the remnants of an egg cream resisting the suction of the straw. The slurping was wet and somewhat drowned out by the sounds of two women in pain. Then there was one soft, moist thump. It was a sound similar to dropping raw ground beef, reserved for this evening's supper, on the hard, cold floor. Finally, there was a muffled whimper and a muffled sob, then silence.
There were no signs of human life.
heidi
I have an earlier version of this story called
Bubbles Popping in response to a prompt by The Mag. This story is a re-telling of the story
The Dark from the radio drama,
Lights Out. If you would like to listen to
the original, you can find a streaming source by clicking this link
Lights Out: The Dark (This link will take you to
the
Old
Time Radio Internet Archive. The episode I
am using is #19 on the play list.)
I updated the story because that first post was mostly a rough draft and because I wanted to post it to the subreddit Dark Tales. Click on
Reddit Dark Tales to view the story and read other dark offerings.
