Short and Spooky

Three short stories.

Eyeshine

The clock on my nightstand read 3:30 AM. I’d been up for twenty minutes already, tossing and turning, trying to get back to sleep.

My mouth was dry. The kind of gummy, sticky dryness that you can’t ignore and is just like ‘Hey, water now’. The whole reason I couldn’t just fall back asleep. I’d close my eyes, get comfortable…and then I’d swallow and be reminded that my throat felt like it was full of cotton balls.

Only one thing to do: go downstairs and get a glass of water.

Of course the thing that’d fix the problem was the same thing I didn’t want to do. Like, rationally I’d tell myself that the house was the exact same place at 3:30 AM as it was at 3:30 PM, no different. Just dark. Nothing there that wasn’t there when it was light out.

My imagination always had other ideas. I still double-timed it down the hall from the bathroom like something was chasing me. Nothing ever did of course, but try telling my brain that. Same thing with the stairs; I always expected to see something in the dark peering up at me.

If I wanted to get any sleep I had to brave the darkness, so down I went. Big boy time. Down the hall, down the stairs and around the corner. Enough ambient light between the streetlights outside and the fridge once I opened it to find the pitcher of water and a glass in the cabinet.

“Eli?”

Mom’s voice.

I turned to see my parents sitting at the table with drinks between them. Aside from the ungodly hour that wasn’t the weird part. No, the weird part was the way the dim light caught their eyes. They glowed yellow, like a cat’s eyes in the dark.

I stared.

“It’s very late, Eli. Something wrong?” Mom asked in a normal Mom-voice. Like nothing weird was going on. Like her eyes weren’t shining like goddamn headlights right then.

“Just…getting some water,” I said. “Mouth’s all dry.”

Meanwhile my brain was torn between ‘What the hell what are you’ and ‘By extension what the hell am I’ with a side of wordless screaming.

She just nodded. “It happens.”

The next five minutes were awkward as I got my water, dropped in a couple ice cubes, and turned to go.

“Eli?”

Mom again. I turned back to see them still there, still with those weird cat eyes staring at me.

She smiled. “Good night.”

“Yeah. Thanks Mom.”

I hurried back upstairs like something was behind me. I wasn’t going to think about it right now. Not about them, not about the gleam of reflective eyes the hall mirror caught in my own face.

But boy, I was going to have a shitload of questions in the morning.

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A Complaint to Apartment 4C

Look, Lon. I know you’ve got your problems. We all do. I’m not going to judge a man for whatever’s eating him.

But good god, would it kill you to clean out the washing machines after you use them? Most of the time it’s fine, but it seems like once every month you leave them full of pine needles and hair. Hiking’s a fine hobby, but you don’t need to bring the trail home with you.

And don’t act like it’s not you. I’ve asked around, and the other people on the fourth floor told me that there’s a trail of mud, twigs and pine needles leading straight to your door some mornings.

One time Lydia in 4E said there was a scrap of material with what looked like bloodstains. Did you hurt yourself out there? You really should be more careful. That’s a good way to get an infection.

Another thing: the dryers. Didn’t anyone ever teach you any common courtesy? The lint traps are clogged up with wads — WADS —  of hair. You need to take those out. Also the last time I used the dryers after you I heard something rattling around; when I stopped the machine to look, I found acorns in there.

Acorns.

Also animal (deer?) teeth and a chewed-up bit of what Ted thinks is an antler. Again, I’m not going to judge or pry into your private life, but please clean out your pockets before doing the laundry. There’s only five machines for sixty units and we all have to share them.

I’m not asking for the moon here. All I’d like to see out of you is a little common courtesy towards your neighbors.

-Susan

P.S. Is your dog alright? It howls to beat the band some nights. I didn’t even know you had a dog. Take the poor thing out for a run once in a while, will you?

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The Red Night

It came only once a year. The Red Night, the Night of Truth, Night of Clarity, whatever you wanted to call it. On that sacred night the moon would cast a red glow over the whole town. There was no escaping it; the moon’s light would find you no matter where you were, even if you holed up in the deepest, darkest cellar you could.

No hiding from the truth, after all.

When the light bathed us, it would peel away all the illusions we carried, all the lies we told ourselves and convinced others of. All the assumptions other people projected onto us.

For one glorious night we’d be our truest selves.

Not everyone enjoyed it. Like I said earlier, some tried to hide from it because they didn’t like that they became small and weak. Helpless. The complete opposite of who they wanted to convince everyone they were.

Garrett had cornered me before. Tried to catch me alone. Talked to his idiot friends all about how I’d ‘be his’ one day when he wore me down enough.

It’s like he forgot that tonight was coming.

Forgot what he’d be.

How he’d wither into something pathetic. Puny, vulnerable, almost rabbitlike. Twitchy, nervous, shuddering. Meek.

My own skin peeled away to reveal something with sharp teeth and claws. Many eyes, though my face remained my own. Sphinxlike. Beautiful and terrible in equal measure.

Tonight, he was going to run.

And me?

I was going to hunt.

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