Sighing to himself at having wasted a bullet on the wall, Garm fumbles with his hands, trying to find the bolt without taking his eyes off the door.

That’s when a loud crash of shattering wood and glass makes both of them turn around in a panic while Sven yelps and bolts out of the room. Wanting to curse his unstable hands, the words are caught in Garm’s throat as he sees what just broke through their window.

There’s a clawed, gangly limb reaching through where the backmost garden window used to be. The gruesome appendage flails wildly from side to side before it grabs onto the displaced bookshelf that still partially blocks its entry. Soon, another clawed hand reaches through and the grip of the two limbs causes cracking noises as the creature they’re attached to begins pulling itself inside.

There, looking directly at them is the face of their father. That is, what little remains of it. Seemingly peeling off of an elongating skull, twisting and fraying into a vaguely crown-like shape made of gore-splattered bone, is what’s left of Jonas’s face. It hangs loosely, like a misfitting mask, at the bottom of its head. His eyes, dark pools swallowing the moonlight, peer at them with undisguised malice. A mouth splits into a hungry grin, sporting all too many sharp teeth.

“My children!” The monster masquerading as their father says in a mocking, sing-song voice, “Why, you look like you’ve seen a corpse!”

Cornered mice. Garm tries to look away, but he can already feel the beginnings of his limbs locking up. Desperation and despair vie for dominance in Garm’s head as he spots Hannah in the corner of his vision, helpless and frozen.

No. He will not let them end like this. With the last vestiges of his will, Garm slams his hand down on the pocket filled with push-pins. Pain bursts to the forefront of his mind as the skin of his hand and thigh is pierced by multiple sharp needles. The sting of iron is soon replaced with relief as he can feel movement rapidly returning to him.

Ignoring his instincts screaming at him to run away, Garm leaps to his sister’s side. Pulling the still-immobile Hannah back, he sees the monster is thankfully still in the process of entering their home, the bulk of its mass on the other side of the window. Using the butt of the Krag he swiftly strikes Hannah’s leg. She lets out a cry of pain and her hand shoots to the spot he struck, letting Garm know he successfully hit the pocket where she hid her share of the push-pins.

“Why struggle? We all know how this ends!” the creature asks in its stolen voice, seeming to be in no hurry as it watches them fight against their faith.

Raising the rifle to point at the creature, Garm tries to reload. The tremble in his hands nearly has him fumble the practiced motions, but the next second there’s a new round in the chamber.

The gnarled and twisted face of Jonas spreads into a cruel grin at seeing Garm’s frantic motions. “How pathetic. You were never a son of mine,” it sneers at him, and rears back to swipe at him with an arm whose nails have grown into wicked talons.

“You’re not him!” Hannah yells at the top of her lungs and throws her lantern directly towards the creature’s face.

Although the panic rings clear in her voice, her throw flies true and the creature uses its taloned hand to protect itself instead. The lantern shatters against the top of the protective hand, sending oil and glass shards spilling over its hand and back. The wick with the flickering ember goes tumbling to the side where it lights an oil spill that tentatively starts to spread towards the curtains.

Seeing fire licking so tantalizingly close to their enemy Garm can see the opportunity that fate has presented him. Now, all he has to do is to not let it slip by.

Garm takes aim at the leg-like limb the creature uses to hold up the part of its body that’s inside, which at this point Garm sees is most of it. Trying not to let the consequences of failure cloud his vision, he focuses on his breathing while looking down at the sight. Already he can see that he’ll miss, his unsteady hands disallowing him a clean shot.

Spotting the doubt in his eyes, the mockery of his Father’s flesh grins at him, “Take the shot, Kid. I’m going to enjoy tearing your sister apart in front of you, while you simmer in the knowledge that you could have changed her fate.”

“Garm…” Hannah puts a hand on his back and whispers in a half-sob, “...he isn’t here… not really. Let’s put him to rest.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Garm can hear his heartbeat loud as day. He lets out a long breath. One… Two… before the third beat he gives the trigger a feather touch.

The sound of gunfire consumes all other noise, followed by the chunky splatter of tearing flesh and splintering of bone. The creature howls in anguish as its weight bends the shattered limb and begins leaning towards the flickering flames spreading its destructive influence below.

Seeing its destination, the creature tries to reach out, tendrils ripping from its core, tearing through its new flesh suit to find purchase. It flickers and spasms with jet-black tentacles, trying to stop its descent while the oil-drenched, taloned arm tries to bend out of the way, but it’s too late.

It strikes the oil-slick floor elbow first, skidding along the planks. The arm is followed shortly by a torso punctured by hundreds of wriggling tendrils that immediately go to work pushing away from the growing inferno. For a brief moment, it looks like the creature has evaded the flame before a flickering ember makes its presence known on its elbow. The candlelight then becomes an avaricious torrent as it seems every bit as hungry as the creature it’s attached to.

As the oil-covered surface of the creature bursts into flames it lets out a tortured wail, waking the siblings from their awe-struck study of their conflagrating father. The panic returns in force as they see the creature, now in a pain-induced rush, slither inside, its head swaying to eye them in fury.

Garm turns, taking Hannah by the wrist, shouting, “Upstairs!”

They rush into the kitchen and up the stairs, hearing the horrid howls as the monster sets off after them. Taking the stairs three at a time they come upon the hallway to their rooms. Swiftly getting the lay of the land, desperate for an escape out of the house, they spot Sven in their Father’s room at the very end of the hallway. They run to the scared dog, who’s been trying to claw away the shelf they’d used to blockade the window.

Checking inside the capsule door of the Krag, Garm finds, to his dismay he’s only got two rounds remaining. Positioning himself halfway into the room he reloads and aims down the hallway where the sounds of splintering wood are growing louder as the burning monster is forcing its way up the tight stairway.

“What are you doing? Help me with this!” Hannah begs, throwing what little weight she has against the shelf.

With a crack, and a rupture of splinters, the flame-clad form of the monster bursts up the stairs. Crouching in a predatory stance, its head swiveling from side to side, it spots them and readies itself to leap.

Briefly lighting up the dark room, Garm lets the first bullet fly. With another anguished howl, the creature’s leap becomes a violent collapse, as the bullet buries itself into its hip. Skin cracking, the air smelling of rancid, burning meat, the creature roars as rivulets of inky liquid rush from every rent in its flesh. It reaches out with one appendage, digging it into the wooden floor, then another. One sloppy heave after another, it once again continues its advance.

Garm reloads with haste, the gravity of this final round weighing heavy in his mind.

“You know I always hated you, Garm,” the echoing mockery of his Father’s voice calls out. His words pierce seamlessly through the crackling fire spreading from the monster’s pursuit.

Breathing out and raising the Krag, Garm readies himself to take the shot. Looking to his right, he sees Hannah give him a nod and raise her knife with shaking hands. This is where it’ll all end, one way or another.

“Imagine waking up, every day, to know my legacy died…” The monster lets out a guttural chortle as its ominous crawl takes it ever closer to them.

As Garm takes another steadying breath, Hannah sees the tip of the rifle start to sway.

“...because my worthless wife birthed such a failure.”

The sway has become a visible vibration, Garm clutching the rifle with a white-knuckle grip.

Hannah, looks at her brother, “Garm?” hesitation and fear written all over her face.

Pausing, Garm looks at his sister, at their dog, frozen in fear, then at the nightmare thundering towards them, their end made manifest.

“Hannah… I need you to hold it with me,” Garm whispers.

Swallowing, Hannah gives him a determined look and grabs a hold on the other side of their Father’s cherished rifle. She places one hand just behind Garm’s on the forestock, holding it firmly, the other she places more gently under the trigger guard, letting him aim without fighting her for control.

Both the siblings and the creature see the sway of the barrel reduce noticeably, Garm lets out a third and final breath before counting the beats of his heart.

One.

“No!” the creature roars in anger, tearing toward them with even greater fervor, meat sloughing off its burning body in chunks.

Two.

“I will not let two weak, sniveling little…”

Before the third beat, Garm gives the trigger a feather touch.

The Monster’s skull is close enough that the first thing that hits is deflagrating gunpowder. The rotating spear of lead that follows, tears through the bone and fragments after impact. Scalding bits of metal and bone shards rip through flesh, through muscle and brains, leaving only a devastated crater behind.

The creature, the living nightmare that had claimed their father, slumps to the floor, lifeless.