's 2013 Horror Write-off:

" Leech "

Submitted by Cameron Macfarlane

On the corner of the street was this small store.

It was worse for wear, rusting in some places, crumbling in others, as ivy vines began to take hold at it, descending from the giant oak tree beside it.

A limp, torn banner hung sadly over its dented window displays and putrid, stained white walls.

"Para's Pawn Shop: Closing Sale"


The pawn shop, much like its exterior, was an utter wreck.
Boards were torn up from the roots of the old outside tree burrowing between the floor. The paint peeled on the walls and the back doors coated in rusty boards, with sad little bins desperately trying to pawn off the last bit of unwanted goods. They didn't matter, though.

I knew what I wanted the moment I came in.

They were just there, on the shelf, unwanted, unloved. Maybe ten or twenty of them, small little oily pearls.


In the near very back sat a little man on a stool. Unnaturally pale, with an extremely large open wound, dried yet pungent on his head and a dapper little suit, like a businessman, and an air of arrogance to him.

I cough, trying subtly to draw his attention to me.

He simply sits, staring into space.

"Um, hello?" I say, screwing the whole subtle thing.

"Would you like to buy the oily presents?" He says instantly, monotone and dull, like a broken record.

I stand there for a few seconds to think, realize what he's referring to, and hastily stammer out a reply.

"Y-yes, the pear-uh, presents... Lovely things, yes? Uh, how much?"

"For you?" He says, voice suddenly growing full of energy, like something breathed the life into him, "No charge! Go ahead, take them! Take them all! I've gotta spread the happiness, Y'Know?"

I flinch, startled by the man's sudden change in demeanour.

"Could you get a ladder?"

As he got a ladder from the back door, I tried to strike up a conversation.

"So, how come your shops closing?"

"Don't need it no more! Got better things to feed..."


"Nothing, just an expression..."

"So, if you don't mind me asking, how did you get that-"

"Mining accident!" He blurted out, bringing his hand up to the open wound on his forehead. Stroking it.

"S-sorry, I didn't realize you we-"

"It's fine, trust me. It was long ago. It feels kind of nice now actually. Calming, sort of."

With that, he placed the ladder down, scurried up, and grabbed the elusive baubles off the shelf.

"There," he said, "Now remember to take good care of them, they're very precious to me..."

"It's fine, I'll take care of them..." I said, heading out of the store with my new trinkets.

"Oh, thanks, by the way" He added as I was heading out, except his voice was now back to the dragging, monotone voice I had heard when I entered.

Finally home, I arranged the new shiny pearls carefully in my old oak drawer (well, nightstand, really) upstairs, and I don't know why, but I stared at them for the longest old time, admiring the way they reflected the room around, when finally I got up and looked at the clock.


"OH GOD!" I screamed to no one in particular, "IM LATE! IM LATE!!!" I was late for my work meeting with the new CEO!! I rushed downstairs to grab my briefcase, slamming the drawer shut behind me.

I forget about the odd fleshy pearls after that, drowned out by the rush of work and family and rent and the overall hustle and bustle of the days events, and when I finally got home it was too late and dark to concentrate, so I simply headed to bed, falling asleep to the sound of the humming, lulling radiator, soothing and calm...


I'm awakened in the middle of the night, snapped out of the lull asleep by something not of normal. Something different.

I hear something.

Slipping, squelching, the sound of slime flowing against the interior wood, a hideous high pitches shriek of whining and the sound of slowly rotting wood.

The drawer slowly rocks, shaking in place, picking up speed as I watch it intensely.

Then it slides open with a hideous creak.

It's on me, in an instant, squirming, as it lunges desperately around my face, slapping and flapping and sliming and screeching hideously.

I scream. I shout. My hands reflexively fly up to my face, shoving it away from my face with forceful hatred and onto the floor.

It slams against the floor with a smack, then I instantly recoil to the back of the room, screaming and stomping at it with my foot, hoping to crush it in a fateful crush as it wriggles frantically toward it.

I throw wilder and wilder stomps at it the closer it dares draw, and manage to finally get it underfoot with a resounding crunch of bone followed by a shot of extreme pain.

My own pain.

I felt a huge gap tear straight through my foot like a spike, a horrible sound of tearing skin and squishing flesh as buckets of blood spilled upon the cold wooden floors as the last part of the thing sliding hideously against my skin and into my foot, now completely overtaking me in pain.

I can feel it burrowing through me, it's slick, smooth body flowing past muscle and bone, through nerve and fat, up and up, eternally climbing through the massive body of me.

And then the cool rush of air and painfully loud crack of bones forced apart, as blood erupts down onto my head.

So much blood.

All over me...



I stagger up the stairs, hardly caring any more, plowing over old toys and baskets, flinging the my bedroom door open wide and stumbling to grab my phone and take a picture, to see whats happening on the tiny screen.

And there it is.

I say nothing for the past couple of minutes, until the blood runs dry and it's wriggling panic gives way to calm flapping, and the pain subsides to cool, calming silence, standing in the faint glow of my camera.

I'm speechless.

I have nothing.

I look at it, slimy whitened skin nestled pastily between my now very pale and thin flesh.

And I begin to laugh. Silent, just a chuckle.

Its just it's movements, it's little, empathetic twitches and writhes whenever I wince, how it convulses some of my own blood on me when I go to touch it.

It's kind of cute.

Maybe this isn't so bad after all.

I head back to my bedroom and reach into the old wooden cabinet, grasp the cool, squishy eggs in my hands.




This is too good to keep to myself.

This needs to be shared.

My family must know.

The world must know...


It's so warm...