[5. WHAT ARE YOU MOST WORRIED ABOUT CURRENTLY?]

Why do things keep chasing me?

~~~

It doesn’t take long for it to catch up with me. I hear a whistling noise coming towards my ear.

Feeling the danger, I launch myself head first into the snow in an effort to dodge, rolling onto my back as I do. A scythe sweeps past not even a finger’s width from my ear. My heart stops. That was waaaay too close.

“L̝̥̩̽ɘ̝̩̍t̘̬̊ mË̟̞̟ ʜ̠̬̟̍́Äⱱ́ə̠̈ a T̩̽aʂ̍́t̟̠̟ɛ̩̍.”

Why do they always sound so creepy? Can they just not talk?

Also, what the heck is this look? Who has freaking scythes for hands? Do you really think that having your jaw split in two like some sort of mandible is pleasing to look at? And why am I having such bad luck with tall, skinny guys recently? It’s getting really tiring.

A scythe comes racing towards me again. I roll out of the way, using my momentum to stand back up again. Much too dangerous. But I can’t really run. It’ll just catch back up to me and probably cut me in half. Plus I'm sick of running. I really should have looked into anti-creepy things (rosaries or charms or purifying salt or something). These things clearly aren’t hallucinations anymore.

I feel like crying. They were never this aggressive before. It lunges at me again, tearing the sleeve of my sweatshirt as I duck.

“Go do your lunges somewhere else!” I yell. It pauses, tilting its gross head at my voice. I’m surprised it reacted. I’ve never tried talking with a creepy before. It always felt wrong to even think about it.

“T̟̞̈̊̈ó̰̬ɱɐ̬̈̊t̘̬̊ø̝̞̯̈̍̽eʂ? T̈ħ̬̟̍̆3ʏ̠̟̊’ɾ̩̥̟̊̈ɘ ɲ̘̠ᵒT̠̟̩̆̍ ʁɪ̊pE̍̈ Y̝et̟̠̟..”

“Who cares about tomatoes?”

We stare at each other for almost a full minute, me with my chest heaving, it with its head tilting further and further till it was almost horizontal to the ground. Gross. But at least it stopped. Maybe it’ll listen to reason.

“Hey, we don’t really need to fight, do we? I’m sorry that I barged into your house like that, but do you really need to slice me to pieces for it?”

“G̠̟̠̐̈ɜorʛ̽E̬̩̽ ɗ̘̙̍ɨ̩̍̊D̞̝̽ŋ’T̩̽ ʂ̍́eË̟̞̟ ɪ̩̊ʈ. I ẅ̠̟̥ɐ̬̈̊ɲ̘̠T̠̟̩̆̍ Ä S̀ɨ̥́̈p̟̥.” It snaps its mandible things and lurches towards me.

“I guess that’s a no, then. Jerk.” Should have known reason wouldn’t work on illogical things. Really, why is everything chasing me recently? Is this going to be something that’ll happen on a regular basis now? It’s not something I wanna get used to it.  

I try and keep my distance from the thing. It’s not working very well. Its legs are so skinny, it’s poking through the snow like toothpicks, but it’s tall enough that the snow only comes a third of the way up its shin, so snow doesn’t really matter. Me on the other hand, I feel like I can barely move. With the snow up to my kneecaps, the thing cuts me off in an instant.

I leap backwards to avoid the scythe slicing down, but everything goes bad. I land wrong. My feet slip, and I slam harder than I should have been able to into the snow. The wind is instantly knocked out of my lungs. I can’t breathe.

Panicking, I hurry to scramble to my feet, slipping and sliding around even more.

Pain bursts in my thigh, and I fall to the ground. I scream out as the thing tugs its scythe out. Itǃ Freakingǃ Hurtsǃ You maggot infested, rotten skin bagǃ

From my lying position, I launch my unhurt leg blindly at the creepy, catching it in its toothpick legs. It stumbles and falls right on top of me. I gag at the very intense smell of freezer burn that accompanies it.

It shrieks and snaps at my head with its mandibles only to meet my oncoming elbow in the eye.

The organ pops disgustingly.  

I almost throw up. I was not expecting that. Still, I manage to slip out from underneath it and launch another kick to its side. Its ribs snap with an unsettling crunch.

“G̠̟̠̐̈ɜ́ɐ-Ŏ̥̟̩̍̈o̩̥̟̍̊̽)̠̝̊0̽̊lr̬ɹ̈-ʛ̽E̬̩̽̊e̍#̍̊̃(̍ǃ̤̊ǃ̬̊̽&̞̯̽#̬̥̀(̤̙̟̆̊̍ǃ̈̍̊)̠̞́#̠̝̈̃” the thing screeches.

I scramble backwards in a hurry and stare in horror at the gaping hole that my foot created in its side. This . . . was this supposed to happen? After a few seconds of warbling on its side in pain, the creepy manages a swipe at me with its scythe. It’s a much weaker swing than before. I scoot further out of reach before it even comes close.

“G̠̟̠̐̈ɐ-o̩̥̟̍̊̽Ŏ̥̟̩̍̈ɜ́)̠̝̊0̽̊l&̞̯̽#̬̥̀(̤̙̟̆̊̍ǃ” it screams incoherantly at me.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

I shiver, then take a deep breath and stand up. As I stand up, it actually takes another weak sweep at me. I frown. Why’s it so bent on killing me?

"Look, I know you go crazy after seeing girls, but you know, they don't really like being chased around with with knives. Here, let me help with that. Maybe"--I stomp hard on its arm--"it'll improve your chances."

The bone brakes with a crackle.  

Okay . . . I was not expecting that either. So gross. I’m at a loss. The whole scythe actually detached from its arm. The scene totally gives a whole new meaning to brittle bones. I don’t think a fifteen year old is supposed to be strong enough to break nightmare material (or regular material for that matter), but I guess it’s better than being hacked at. Huh. Maybe I’m stronger than I look.

I kick the detached scythe away, then limp over to break off the other one with my foot and kick it away as well. At this point, it’s all rather anticlimactic. The creepy isn’t even making any noise anymore. It’s just staring at me with its remaining eye while the other’s dribbling goop freezes to the side of its face. Disgusting. I can’t even dredge up any pity when I look at the thing. I just feel nauseous. Still, I walk up to it and crouch painfully down in front of its face.

“Well, Mr. Jerkface McSkinbag, you’re rather harmless now without your arms. The hole in your side probably won’t be helping either. I suppose you’re done for. But what do I do now? Put you out of your misery?”

The creepy snaps its jaws at me. Sighing, I ignore it and turn my attention to my throbbing leg, which has been angrily demanding my attention ever since it got stabbed. When I focus on it, I can only stare at the milky mist that’s seeping out of the gaping hole instead of normal blood. It dissipates slowly in the freezing air. I . . . suppose it makes sense that ghosts don’t bleed . . . blood.

Out of the corner of my eye I see the creepy lunge at me, pushing hard off its feet. I recoil, bringing my fist up and jabbing out as it closes in on me with its mouth wide open. My hastily thrown fist catches it in its throat, and I hear a sickening snap. Its head flops to the side and it crumples to a heap at my feet. I gape at it in utter shock. It convulses for a few seconds before stilling. After a minute, I poke at it with my foot. It doesn’t move. Is it dead?

Oh my gosh, now that I’m really looking at it, I freaking snapped its neck! I mean, I can literally see its spine poking out of the skin on the back of its neck. I gag, but the only thing that comes out is a dry heave. The angle of its head makes it seem like its head is trying to fuse with its collarbone.

My eye is drawn back to it, and I find myself unable to tear my gaze away. Morbid fascination fills me. I’ve seen a lot of disgustingly distorted creepies, but I’ve never actually seen something’s spine sticking out of its neck. As I’m staring with a roiling stomach, something slips out of its neck and spreads through the air. It looks a whole freaking lot like black ink spreading through water, which is suuuper ominous looking. I scoot away. I don’t think I want whatever that stuff is near me.

Only, of course. Now it’s getting closer.

Crap crap crap, heck no. No way in Jose am I staying here. I’ve seriously have had it with all this horror movie stuff. I am not sticking around for more. I scramble to my feet. See ya! I’m outta here.

I step forward . . . and stumble hard before falling on my face. Pain shoots through my leg. Wound. Right. Gaping hole in leg. Forgot about that.

I grit my teeth. My leg’s cramped up from sitting in the cold. Good thing is during that time period, it went numb, so it didn’t hurt as much just sitting there. Bad news is, now that I’m trying to run on it, it hurts a heck of a lot more--like try stuffing your leg with angry, vengeful hedgehogs more. I can’t even sit up, so I just hold my aching leg, still laying face first in the snow.

A slimy feeling crawls down my spin. I peak out of the corner of my eye and see the black ink stuff floating just above my head. It’s literally like two inches away.

I open my mouth to scream. In that second, it darts forward and forces its way into my mouth, cutting off my scream with its unexpected mass. I choke and gag and pull at my mouth, unable to grasp it. Tears stream down my cheeks as my fingers just pass through it despite the heavy weight I can feel on my tongue.

It turns into a  tug of war; all my choking is keeping the thing from crawling down my throat, but that’s not stopping it from trying. As it squirms, I feel it start dissolving with gross pops and hisses. Salty liquid fills my mouth and trickles down my esophagus. It’s disgusting.

I unconsciously swallow.

Immediately, I feel woozy. The world lurches as I slump to my side. Colors bloom and start spinning around me. They swirl and mix for a bit like ink does in water before slowing and clumping together into an image of a man tied to a chair. He looks weathered, his beard untrimmed and skin sticking to his bones. I think he’s dead until he shifts a bit, staring dazedly at the pile of something in front of his feet. A fly buzzes around his head. Actually, is that fly is flying backwards? Yeah, yeah it is, and now it’s even moving backwards faster somehow.

I jerk, realizing that the man’s beard is growing shorter and his skin is filling out with muscle. Am I watching time moving in reverse? If so, it’s speeding up even faster. Even the pile starts to regain mass, maggots crawling all over it in reverse, spitting up meals that reattach to . . . Oh my gosh, the pile’s a corpse. I gag.

After a second, the corpse becomes visibly human. It only takes a minute or so before its skin--her skin--becomes unmarred by decay, leaving only long, missing chunks of muscle along her legs and stomach. I can’t really tell, but it almost looks like her skin was flayed and the meat removed. Bile comes up my throat. Is that what I think it means?

I glance over at the man. He’s an absolute mess, now. A gash on his forehead is collecting drips of blood from off his lap, and tears and snot are weirdly unmixing. Gross. I watch wide eyed as his face transforms from complete despair to burning, destructive rage, to absolute horror. Shortly after, a crudely dressed group of four men and two women basically moonwalk into the house.

Everything happens (or I guess un-happens) very quickly after that. It’s hard to make sense of everything. The--for lack of a better term--barbarians (their actions soon prove them so) move about the house, un-shattering things in the kitchen, taking back hits on the poor man in the chair, and regurgitating plates of steak and sausages and ridiculous amounts of alcohol. The meat is then taken to the kitchen and is soon uncooked and soaking up fresh blood like a sponge. The man uncooking it takes it back into the front room (unstepping over the reverse bleeding corpse lying on the ground) where the man in the chair stares brokenly at it. To my horror, the cook then puts back the slices of meat into the corpse’s thighs and the long ropes of intestines (the sausages) and other organs into her stomach.

I was right. They’re freaking cannibals. I watch weakly as the cook seems to zip her back up with the knife. A couple of seconds of talking occurs, then the man is released from his chair and a fight breaks out in reverse. The untied man is fighting so desperately. It kind of hurts to watch.

At some point, I don’t know when, the dead lady comes back to life and is pushed around for a long time while the man (her husband?) is restrained. Then, the barbarians group together and leave out the door, leaving the husband cuddling the lady as she cooks in the kitchen.

The scene ends abruptly. I find myself once again lying on my side starting at the snowflakes drifting slowly from the sky. The blizzard ended at some point. It feels less cold, but I’m freezing inside.

I don’t want to think. Not after that. But my mind wanders to it any. There was a scene in that

. . . that vision . . . that I tried my best not to watch. I had heard about it, but this was my first ever time seeing it, and it was forced. That sort of thing is not something that should happen to any woman. But those two lady barbarians were laugh--a lump forms in my throat--were laughing and jeering while watching. And then they all ate her.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to unsee any of  that.