Journey Home Page #4

I wrote this story as a response to my experiences with cancer.

• Horror

								

I followed it as it twisted and wriggled through corridor after corridor.  My stomach knotted as I moved deeper into the labyrinthine maze that the house had suddenly become.  Through stretching doorways and slanted halls that disoriented I followed the writhing fleshy mass as it twitched and wriggled.  We twisted and turned through another set of doors, and it occurred to me that without this tentacle guiding me I’d soon be lost. Deeper we went, and we had made countless twists and turns until we came upon a simple white door that sat neatly in its frame.  A hole in the stained drywall allowed the flesh tube to enter.  I looked around and realized I was back in the kitchen.  I had been walking for what seemed like ages but here I stood back in the Goddamned kitchen!
“Son!” a voice yelled.  It sounded vacant, tinny.  There was a certain static quality to it.
I looked around, confused, “Dad?” I asked out loud.  It turns out that when you're terrified it doesn’t matter how cheaply words fit.  
“Son!  I’m here!” the voice responded.  It had a familiar wetness to it, and I realized it was coming from the phone.
I raised the phone, staring in confusion.  The husky breathing was replaced by the sound of my father’s voice.  He didn’t have a cell, so how could he call himself?
“Where are you?” I asked.  I swallowed, and pushed a lump of fear down my throat.  I’d been in terrifying situations before, and learned by way of Uncle Sam that extreme violence overcomes fear almost every time.  I glanced around again, looking for a weapon.  I was taking stock of everything around me.
“Son.  I’m in the basement!  I’ve got something down here to show you!  A birthday present!”
My grip tightened on the phone.  I could feel tears as they welled in my eyes.  I was slowly coming to the realization that whatever I was talking to wasn’t my father.  Or maybe it was, but he wasn’t talking like him.  Every conversation we had as an adult started with our christian names, but always ended with much fouler words.
He sounded normal, like he was unaware of the outside world.  The gnarled claws that the crops had transformed into would have been visible from the basement windows, so surely he could see what happened.
“You haven’t gotten me a present since I was a kid.” I responded.
There was a brief silence that was followed by the sharp barking wheeze.  It was laughing.
“Come on down.  I’m a new man.  I’ve got all of your presents.”  The voice was still his, but it was different.  It took on the familiar wet pneumonic quality.  I wanted to leave.  I wanted to turn around and go, but I wasn’t convinced I’d be able to.  I knew I was back in the kitchen, but the endless walk through the empty hollow halls had my head in a mess.  
“Dad,”  I said quietly, “I love you, but I need to go.”  The tears were flowing freely now.  I wished I knew what had happened.  I wished I understood what was going on around me, but the more I tried to think about it the harder it was to understand.
I let my arm fall to my side, and the receiver slowly dropped to the floor.  The sounds of the  languid wet breathing still popped like bubbles in the phone.  I turned away from the basement door and started to walk.  I wasn’t sure what would happen, but I knew that anything was better than the horrors in the basement.
The scent of smoke filled my nostrils, burning them with its odor.  I turned.  I shouldn’t have.  I should have just kept walking.
My eyes widened in terror when I looked at the basement door.  A shapeless mass of flesh slowly oozed from the door, its great bulk strained against the frame.  Tumorous growths populated the surface of the creature and patches of it smoldered, creating the foul burning stench that filled the air.  Strands of scar tissue stretched over large patches of its bulbous body, and wiry specks of hair dotted the surface of the beast.  
It ducked its head beneath the top of the door frame.  I watched as the head sunk into the blob, only to extend back out once it was through the door. 
Its face was blackened flesh filled with malignant growths, and its lipless mouth was lined with white teeth.  
“Come back.  I have a gift… A present… for you…” It said.
The dread of realization crashed into me like a semi.  I was staggered at the impact and felt my legs wobble.  
“Dad?”  I whispered, horrified.
It lumbered towards me, sparks of flame appearing randomly on unburned patches of flesh.  I stepped away from it slowly.  I didn’t need to rush, It had the speed of water in a pond.
“I need to give you your present.” it whispered in its wet hoarseness.  I could see bubbles of fluid popping from its burned out mouth.
“I need to give you…” it trailed off.  Its movement was slow, and every time it lumbered closer to me it seemed to be exerting itself to exhaustion.  I just kept backing away.
“I need you…” It said.
I believed it.  
Another patch of fire sprouted up, cooking unscarred bits of its fleshy bulk.  Slowly it became an inferno.  Wallpaper began to peel from the heat and the rickety wooden furniture caught fire as the flames danced around it.  
I stopped backing away.  I turned and I ran.  
“Don’t... Leave…  I have so much for you!” it called. 
I pushed through the table, shoved it to one side and sent its contents crashing to the floor.  I stumbled through the crooked doorway and into the living room.  Burning flesh filled the air and the kitchen was soon enveloped in scorching flames.  
“We can grow together!”  It yelled after me.  Its voice was loud and raspy, filled with the sound of boiling water.
I tripped, breaking the door.  I fell on top of it and spilled out into the sunshine.  The light burned my eyes as I squinted.  The twisted corn and mint were lush and green, road back to gravel.  The sky was a brilliant blue with perfect marshmallow clouds that hung high. 
I looked back inside the house.  It was dark, and its gloom threatened to spill into the world.  The creature inside was crying in agony.  I staggered to my car where I sat exhausted on the edge of the hood.  I sat and watched my childhood memories evaporate as they became food for the fire.  I watched the terrible monster that had consumed my father slowly writhed and burned until it was a smoking heap of charred fat and bone.  I watched until there was nothing left but the ash that rained down from the sky.
								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes