07-20-2017, 02:44 PM
You sit with knees firmly gripped by your fingers as you are perched atop the foul smelling commode in the bathroom of a subway station. The endless light of the fluorescent bulbs hum through the overhead fixture, but it's yellow glow is diffused by a thousand dead insects trapped within the plastic sheath. When you first fled into the bathroom, you had had the clever idea to hide within one of the locked stalls, but raise your feet so that creep with the basket wouldn't see you. You can feel your sweaty palm damping the hem of your dress as you clutch your legs tightly.
Tock...tock...tock…
Creaaaaak….
You can feel your heart almost leaping out of your chest, yet somehow you have the sense to stifle the scream at your lips when the man's footsteps stop outside the door to the women's restroom, then pushes open the swinging door. From within your hiding place, you can feel the man's malevolent presence, and wonder if he can sense you too. His rubber soled sneakers audibly pause just past the entrance.
The wicker reeds of the basket crackle as the man sets the basket on the ground. You can spy his sneakers pacing around the bathroom searching for you. A small part of your brain thought perhaps you were crazy to have fled and screamed so suddenly, but with the man now alone with you in the bathroom, it's clear his intentions are evil. Has he come to kill you? To rape you? Your mind is going through the possibilities and your body is quivering so hard with fear you're finding it difficult to keep your balance on the toilet seat.
You can see the man pause, his feet pointed at the sink basin. Is he looking at the mirror? What is wrong with this guy?
rattle...rattle...rattle
From behind the bathroom stall door you can hear plastic jostling against plastic in the sink, and you remember that in your panic you emptied your purse there before cornering yourself in this miserable hiding spot. You can hear his hand continue to rummage through your junk.
“Hmm…” his voice echoes in the lonely bathroom.
You hear the snap of your pocketbook which he must have found amongst the other items.
“Susan…” his voice intones, like a glutton reading off the items on a dinner menu.
“Susan...Matusek?” he repeats almost questioningly. Perhaps he was unsure about the pronunciation. He knows your name now, and while this changes nothing, it sends an icy prick into your heart.
“Where are you, my dear Susan?” he asks with the friendly air of a kindergarten teacher.
You squelch the scream itching to escape your throat, but you're breathing heavily. Can he hear you? Thinking about it is just making you hyperventilate more.
RADDARADDARADDA!
Your teeth clench tightly. The man is loudly rattling the first locked stall door.
“SUSAN.” his voice calls out more sternly.
His footsteps whisper against the sticky tile floor as he walks past the second stall, which is unlocked and open. You can see the dirty white vinyl of his sneakers below your door.
RADDARADDARADDA!
You scream.
Your stall door stops rattling and you can feel the man on the other side. His presence is like a choking black smoke oozing through the cracks of the door hinge.
His voice happily chimes out with faux sweetness. “There you are Susan!”
His hand remains on the handle of the door and he rattles it softly. You can almost feel his breath and know that he is stooped over, speaking just inches from the door itself.
“We were worried about you. Don’t you think it's a little RUDE to run off like that?” he asks with malicious disapproval.
“G...g...go away! Or I’ll scream!” you beg, not knowing what else to say.
“You already did that, Susan.” he coolly replies.
From the other side of the door, you can hear shuffling and then see his palms on the floor. The man begins to slide under the two foot high opening between the floor and the bottom of the door. In seconds, his shoulders, arms and head have entered the stall. His eyes leer maniacally and lustfully at you. He reaches up awkwardly from the floor and tries to grab your ankle, but instinctively you kick at his foot, then at his face. The point of your heel jabs at his skull and he yelps, shielding his face with his arms as his legs pull him back from whence he came in total retreat. As he flees below the door, you kick again and again, punishing him in his attempt to reach you.
The man rises to his feet and pants, “YOU FUCKING BITCH! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU!?”
BRAKAAAAH!
RADDARADDARADDA
BRAKAAAAH!
RADDARADDARADDA
BRAKAAAAH!
RADDARADDARADDA
The man kicks furiously at the door, rattling it against the stall frame. You quickly jump off from the toilet and press your body against the door, bracing it.
“GODDAMNIT SUSAN!” he screams, almost childlike, as the door doesn’t budge.
You can hear him throwing a tantrum on the other side of the door, pounding his fists against the sink basin, stomping his feet and shouting. He seems irate, and your fear is melting off your heart with the adrenaline of fighting off his attack. You feel a modicum of smugness as he lets out a frustrated and almost womanly harumpt!
With a sniveling voice, he remarks with finality. “You did this to yourself Susan. I wanted you, but I guess I’ll just have to let my brother have his fun instead.”
“Brother?” you think with suspicious wonder.
You can hear the man fumble with the lock on his wicker basket and flop the lid open. What the hell is the fool doing?
Your blood runs cold. You cannot believe, you cannot comprehend the otherworldly, the monstrous sound coming from the basket. Its a scraping, squirming sound that can only be described as vile. You can hear what sounds like a carcass of meat being dragged across the tile. It pauses at the side of the first stall, then continues growing closer.
“Graaaowwrrr…” an abominable voice groans out lowly from the floor of the first stall.
That scraping sound continues to draw closer. Whatever *it* is, its crawling from beneath the walls of the three bathroom stalls. It reaches the second stall and you can smell the thing. It has the scent of dead rats left out to rot in the back alley of a ghetto. It reeks like a jar of toenail clippings collected by some oddball hermit. Your eyesight becomes cloudy and narrow, as if every sense within your body is becoming acute, churning on overdrive to take in the last final experiences possible before you die a miserable death.
A hideous, malformed arm reaches below from the second stall into yours. You scream with lung-splitting terror. The stinking toilet, the yellowed light fixture, the sickly green walls of the bathroom, everything has disappeared as your vision tunnels in and can only see the loathsome creature propel itself from beneath the stall. You do not even feel the trickle of warm urine rolling down your leg as the creature reaches out with its left arm and grasps your shin. Its nails dig into your pale flesh. They dig deeply, leaving blackish-red wells of blood, but you feel nothing but numbness.
“Mroaaaawwhhhhhr….” it moans from the revolting mouth filled with needle-like teeth.
You scream again but this time nothing comes out. Your mouth is open, mutely, impotently trying to bring forth a cry, but only a briefly gurgling boils out your throat as its right hand sinks its talons into your belly. Your insides squish wetly between its fingers but the room is growing shadowed and dark. The last sound in your ears is the slushy sound of tube-like organs being pulled out by the creature's paw. In one quick motion, the tumor-like monstrosity pulls its mass atop your body. It wails, sinking its teeth into your neck.
The End.
Tock...tock...tock…
Creaaaaak….
You can feel your heart almost leaping out of your chest, yet somehow you have the sense to stifle the scream at your lips when the man's footsteps stop outside the door to the women's restroom, then pushes open the swinging door. From within your hiding place, you can feel the man's malevolent presence, and wonder if he can sense you too. His rubber soled sneakers audibly pause just past the entrance.
The wicker reeds of the basket crackle as the man sets the basket on the ground. You can spy his sneakers pacing around the bathroom searching for you. A small part of your brain thought perhaps you were crazy to have fled and screamed so suddenly, but with the man now alone with you in the bathroom, it's clear his intentions are evil. Has he come to kill you? To rape you? Your mind is going through the possibilities and your body is quivering so hard with fear you're finding it difficult to keep your balance on the toilet seat.
You can see the man pause, his feet pointed at the sink basin. Is he looking at the mirror? What is wrong with this guy?
rattle...rattle...rattle
From behind the bathroom stall door you can hear plastic jostling against plastic in the sink, and you remember that in your panic you emptied your purse there before cornering yourself in this miserable hiding spot. You can hear his hand continue to rummage through your junk.
“Hmm…” his voice echoes in the lonely bathroom.
You hear the snap of your pocketbook which he must have found amongst the other items.
“Susan…” his voice intones, like a glutton reading off the items on a dinner menu.
“Susan...Matusek?” he repeats almost questioningly. Perhaps he was unsure about the pronunciation. He knows your name now, and while this changes nothing, it sends an icy prick into your heart.
“Where are you, my dear Susan?” he asks with the friendly air of a kindergarten teacher.
You squelch the scream itching to escape your throat, but you're breathing heavily. Can he hear you? Thinking about it is just making you hyperventilate more.
RADDARADDARADDA!
Your teeth clench tightly. The man is loudly rattling the first locked stall door.
“SUSAN.” his voice calls out more sternly.
His footsteps whisper against the sticky tile floor as he walks past the second stall, which is unlocked and open. You can see the dirty white vinyl of his sneakers below your door.
RADDARADDARADDA!
You scream.
Your stall door stops rattling and you can feel the man on the other side. His presence is like a choking black smoke oozing through the cracks of the door hinge.
His voice happily chimes out with faux sweetness. “There you are Susan!”
His hand remains on the handle of the door and he rattles it softly. You can almost feel his breath and know that he is stooped over, speaking just inches from the door itself.
“We were worried about you. Don’t you think it's a little RUDE to run off like that?” he asks with malicious disapproval.
“G...g...go away! Or I’ll scream!” you beg, not knowing what else to say.
“You already did that, Susan.” he coolly replies.
From the other side of the door, you can hear shuffling and then see his palms on the floor. The man begins to slide under the two foot high opening between the floor and the bottom of the door. In seconds, his shoulders, arms and head have entered the stall. His eyes leer maniacally and lustfully at you. He reaches up awkwardly from the floor and tries to grab your ankle, but instinctively you kick at his foot, then at his face. The point of your heel jabs at his skull and he yelps, shielding his face with his arms as his legs pull him back from whence he came in total retreat. As he flees below the door, you kick again and again, punishing him in his attempt to reach you.
The man rises to his feet and pants, “YOU FUCKING BITCH! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU!?”
BRAKAAAAH!
RADDARADDARADDA
BRAKAAAAH!
RADDARADDARADDA
BRAKAAAAH!
RADDARADDARADDA
The man kicks furiously at the door, rattling it against the stall frame. You quickly jump off from the toilet and press your body against the door, bracing it.
“GODDAMNIT SUSAN!” he screams, almost childlike, as the door doesn’t budge.
You can hear him throwing a tantrum on the other side of the door, pounding his fists against the sink basin, stomping his feet and shouting. He seems irate, and your fear is melting off your heart with the adrenaline of fighting off his attack. You feel a modicum of smugness as he lets out a frustrated and almost womanly harumpt!
With a sniveling voice, he remarks with finality. “You did this to yourself Susan. I wanted you, but I guess I’ll just have to let my brother have his fun instead.”
“Brother?” you think with suspicious wonder.
You can hear the man fumble with the lock on his wicker basket and flop the lid open. What the hell is the fool doing?
Your blood runs cold. You cannot believe, you cannot comprehend the otherworldly, the monstrous sound coming from the basket. Its a scraping, squirming sound that can only be described as vile. You can hear what sounds like a carcass of meat being dragged across the tile. It pauses at the side of the first stall, then continues growing closer.
“Graaaowwrrr…” an abominable voice groans out lowly from the floor of the first stall.
That scraping sound continues to draw closer. Whatever *it* is, its crawling from beneath the walls of the three bathroom stalls. It reaches the second stall and you can smell the thing. It has the scent of dead rats left out to rot in the back alley of a ghetto. It reeks like a jar of toenail clippings collected by some oddball hermit. Your eyesight becomes cloudy and narrow, as if every sense within your body is becoming acute, churning on overdrive to take in the last final experiences possible before you die a miserable death.
A hideous, malformed arm reaches below from the second stall into yours. You scream with lung-splitting terror. The stinking toilet, the yellowed light fixture, the sickly green walls of the bathroom, everything has disappeared as your vision tunnels in and can only see the loathsome creature propel itself from beneath the stall. You do not even feel the trickle of warm urine rolling down your leg as the creature reaches out with its left arm and grasps your shin. Its nails dig into your pale flesh. They dig deeply, leaving blackish-red wells of blood, but you feel nothing but numbness.
“Mroaaaawwhhhhhr….” it moans from the revolting mouth filled with needle-like teeth.
You scream again but this time nothing comes out. Your mouth is open, mutely, impotently trying to bring forth a cry, but only a briefly gurgling boils out your throat as its right hand sinks its talons into your belly. Your insides squish wetly between its fingers but the room is growing shadowed and dark. The last sound in your ears is the slushy sound of tube-like organs being pulled out by the creature's paw. In one quick motion, the tumor-like monstrosity pulls its mass atop your body. It wails, sinking its teeth into your neck.
The End.