Last Night

CW: Drug use and body horror

Last Night

by Jeff Paolino

Debbie Cornlow ran around the corner of the brick building and slammed her back against it. She took a couple deep breaths. On an exhale she peeked back around the corner. Nothing but a rat running through a puddle. Five blocks away a few cars traveled west to east under the yellow glow of the streetlights. The sidewalks were ready for the waste operatives in the morning. The traffic light clicked and unstuck her from the corner.

The street was black slick with fresh rain. It sparkled back and forth as she balanced on her heels, her corns were bustin’ from the run. She walked on, clutching the lapels of her dark green overcoat, glancing over her shoulder on repeat. Eyeliner ran down her cheeks. She peeked again, and noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Something crouched by the trash bags across the street. A child. She jerked her head back to the bags, and the child was gone. It was the trash can, must have been. You never know in this city.

She wiped the wet from her eyes and looked both ways down the street. Empty, quiet. Only a few windows were lit by other nocturnals. Debbie knew a scream wouldn’t do anything at this time. She crossed the street over to the trash. No kid, that was a relief, then a can popped in the bag by her knee. Her heart froze. She pulled the bags away to find the child. She tore open one bag and was met with beady black eyes and a snarled white grin. Fear struck again, this time in a different way. She backed into the tin trashcan and fell on her rear, the raccoon scuttled away. She got up and fixed the mess she made, when a shadow darted behind her. She caught a glimpse of, what looked like, a small gray foot disappear into the alley.

The alley was dark and thin, lit only by the street lamps at either end. She could make out some dumpsters toward the middle, and a figure, crouched by the fire escape on the opposite wall. Debbie called to the figure, “Hello?” Nothing moved. “Hey, do you need help?” She walked into the dark of the alley. The silhouette shuddered, then rose from its crouch. Its shoulders jutted out and up, followed sharply by its torso. The legs stretched ten feet. The arms grew long and slow, and forward after Debbie. She backed up with contorted countenance, tears streaming. The creature’s mouth opened and a bright light beamed out onto Debbie. The mouth moved and distorted the brightness. It turned her pupils into pinholes. She tore away and ran halfway down the block.

She would have run all the way home, but this was crazy. What just happened? She couldn’t be left guessing and chalk it all up to the alcohol mixing badly, or something. That was nothing she couldn’t handle, so she stopped and turned around. Her vision focused and zoomed onto the entrance of the alley. After a moment, a raccoon scuttled its dumpy butt out of the alley. Debbie was tired. It was just a raccoon. The same raccoon? Who knows? Time to go to bed.

Her apartment building and entered the code. Behind the glass door was a crouched shadow, just a chair. There was no shadow. Hell, maybe no raccoon. She walked up the first flight of steps. On each floor there was an apartment door. The walls were white, with some water damage here and there in the corners. As she passed the first door, a shadow came into her peripheral. She ignored it. The second floor the same. This time she jerked toward the shadow, it vanished. A residual dark cloud lingered for a moment, before dissipating into the bright white of the door.

She climbed the last flight of stairs, jangled her lock, and opened the door. Shades drawn, her apartment was dark. The door closed behind her. Standing in the corner to her right, was a man. His face stretched like putty, and his eyeballs rolled around in his skull. She jumped and flicked the switch. Nothing but the coat rack in the corner. Jeez, Debbie, pull it together, she thought, then pulled a bottle of bourbon from the shelf with a short glass, and plopped everything on the table.

No need for ice tonight. The whiskey filled to the top and she gulped half down. Just go to bed. It will be fine. I didn’t know that could happen. I can’t ever go to that bar again, that’s for damn sure. I didn’t know people could foam from the mouth like that. Why was he flopping so hard on the ground? And that sound, that sound of flesh covered skull hitting cement, over and over again. That has never happened before. Never. It has always gone smooth. Too much? I did others the same amount with much better results. Did I drop more than I thought, on accident? On purpose? No, I would never. I counted the pills outside the bar, after I left, before the alley. Why do I keep having this conversation? I know what happened. I knew the moment it happened. They told me not too much, I did too much. If I can handle what I took, then why would that have happened? I am so tired.

She put the last sip of bourbon to her lips and dropped the glass. It shattered on the floor like someone she had met before. It slipped, not her fault. Her legs wobbled and her torso jerked. Just get to bed. She dragged her hand across the hallway wall, then fell onto her bed, laid on her back and cuddled the covers tight.

Bubbles flooded her brain as she dozed. They popped, leaving black orbs of smoke that faded into the dark gray. Her eyes opened, then closed, testing the darkness of each, unable to separate the two. She clutched the covers tighter. Eyes opened, closed, opened, to see the child crouched on her dresser, a black silhouette in the blackness of the new morning.

Iron butterflies, rusty and ungreased, ripped at the lining of her stomach. Her body was stiff, only her eyes could move. The creature’s upper half stretched to the ceiling, its lower half stretched to the floor. Its bony limbs cracked and jerked, and extended to every wall. Its Spider-like crouch filled the room. Leathery gray skin hung from its body, wrinkled and smeared with red streaks. Its huge putty face hovered over Debbie’s. Its eyeballs rolled around in its skull. A green syrup dripped from its pointed nose and landed into Debbie’s mouth. The monster's jaw cracked and churned. It opened wide. A beam of white light blasted out and burned Debbie's eyes. Its jaw jerked opened wider, letting out more, brighter light that consumed her vision. Foam sprayed from her mouth. Her skull smacked against the headboard as she drifted into the silent white light.