Bogleech.com's 2013 Horror Write-off:
Submitted by Angela Shaver
Finals… ugh! So much stress sapping every bit of strength and wit from your increasingly frail form. Your diet now consists of 75% donuts, which you get from the coffee table in the sciences building. You could pass as a very cheap raccoon human hybrid B-movie flick star. How many hours have you been staring at examples, figures and specimens? You don’t care. It’s the semester haste. That time when you’re a squirrel packing nuts away in preparation for the imminent danger that is winter. Only, you are cramming chunks of textbooks in your gray matter for the do or die mental races ahead, final exams.
You are in a study room with a few other students. Flash cards litter one end of the table like fallen leaves. The cords of portable computers form a horrid gorgon adjacent to the outlet. You are feeling butterflies in your gut. Make that some extinct meter long dragonfly, actually. You went to all the lectures, but what does this mean?
You know that one kid over there. Well, not really know them, so much as know they are in your class. You lean over and ask them your burning question. She gives you a faint whisper of a reply. While whispering is polite it is not required. Really you wish she spoke a bit louder. You could barely catch her reply. “Caught… this is the meaning. We move we move. So come along.” Well… that was a rather useless reply. What was that anyway? You ask her what the heck that was about. She ignores you. Okay, well back to work. You think to yourself, study until your butt falls off!
You come back to the study room today. Two students whisper to one another. They are lousy whisperers. They say February 10, 1990 to one another. Okay so something important happened when you were born? Maybe a new antiseptic was invented or a mountain dwelling plant discovered, who knows. You go to the coffee table to refuel. The guy there says something to the lady at the coffee table bench. It’s something about your pet. How would they know what your pets name and age is? And who seriously gives a turd about such trivia? You get a jelly donut. That delicious goo smothers your tongue.
As you are walking home this old dude is carrying his grocery bag up to the concrete porch of a house. He mutters something very familiar. It is the nickname your mother use to use when you were small. He says it over and over again, very quietly and to no one in particular. Creepy old man is creepy. You walk a bit faster to your home.
Your roommies are hanging out on the couch. One of them is napping and the other is texting. The one who is asleep says so lightly with a heavy breath that you have a little scar in a place that is particularly personal! What the H man! You wake him up with your shouting. You probably woke the neighbors too. But who cares about them when mister peeping tom is having unspeakable dreams about you. Even if they are traumatic nightmares instead of you don’t want to know. He claims he does not know what you are talking about. You don’t need this right now.
The light filters through the blinds. It feels wonderful. You are groggy but you feel great. No fricken neck cramps. You had been getting a lot of those from reading so much. The poster of Kiss meets your face. Wait, you don’t have that poster. Where are you? You panic a bit. Then you realize you are in your house-mate’s room. The same roomy that was been a creeper. Ok so you calmed down only to freak out again. Seriously, why? They seemed like a perfectly good person. You lived with them for months upon months; maybe it has already been a year. With no warning they turn psycho and lock you in their room! Oh and guess what? They are in the bed. How had you not noticed? What happened? You would kick their ass except you are terrified. Locked in! Screaming and screaming and screaming. Then you are hoarse. Barely a squeak escapes from you. Then a thought flashes by. Caught… this is the meaning. You black out.
The scent of cinnamon, no wait, pumpkin pie is detected by your bewildered mind. Your vision clears. There is flour all over the place. You probably look like a ghost from some kids show. A high pitched beep sounds. Time to check the oven! Wait what? An elderly lady stands like a giant over you and shoves you into the tiny steel cube of a room. It smells of soot. She chuckles and shuts the wall (door) with an ear splitting bam!
Then you are free? Somehow? Light pours in through a window. It is so colorful. And you here some recording of Old McDonald had a farm. And the sound of scribbling is unmistakable. A splendidly dressed woman comes into the room. But she looks like a giant too. And what happened to your hands? They are small, chubby and uncoordinated. Oh and this shirt. Since when do you wear Spongebob shirts? A finger plunges into your nose! It wiggles vulgarly within. You try to get it out. Instead it ends up in your mouth. You suckle upon the snot covered digit. It is not until much later you get that disgusting piece of flesh out of your mouth. You waddle a short distance. Then you fall flat on your face and poop your pants. Yuck, gross, blarg, this sucks big time!
This cage is so big! The floor is covered in poo. For some reason you eat some mango. It tastes so good. It is one of the best things you have eaten. Fricken cage! You fly out like a rocket. Out the door, out another door, into the sky. The cloud wets your back. The beads of water roll off as you soar. You keep going. Day becomes night. You see the stars and keep on going. Then dawn, then noon, then night, then dawn, then noon. What is happening? Your muscles are shaking. You plummet toward the ground. With a soft thud your body collapses. Yet there is nothing to feel.
Brawk, Bra…, ronk…. You are trying to speak through the wheezing. A young dude, maybe a student, looks you straight in the eye. “Oh you poor thing! What the fuck am I going to do with you,” he so eloquently says. He looks truly concerned though. You are about to die! You say something softly, barely intelligible to him. Brawk ka…Caught… this is the meaning. Konk ka…We move we move. So come along. Braph… You are dead? The salt water splashes your face. A man yells at you to lower the A-frame. The halibut are in season you know. You secure your yellow hard hat and walk out onto the deck.