BEWARE THE SCURRYING FEET
By Elsie Park
The taxi sped away, kicking up
gravel behind it. Nelly sputtered and waved a hand in front of her face in an
ill attempt to keep dust from her eyes and mouth. Turning from the road, she
viewed the small farm house. She recalled the creepy story her late father told
her of Great-Uncle James Patterson who'd lived here. No one had entered the
place since James brutally murdered his wife, Matilda, 50 years before. Upon
arrest he was dragged away yelling, "I didn't kill her! It was THEM! It
was THEM! Why won't you believe me? We must destroy them or they'll run
wild!" No one heeded his ranting, though for thirty years on death row he
never changed his story about demons in his cellar. He was executed by lethal
injection.
Stories emerged between then and now from children sneaking about the property. Eerie sounds and scurrying footsteps could be heard from inside the house at night. Most townsfolk chalked it up to wild animals inhabiting the vacant building.
Ridiculous, Nelly thought as she ran
a hand through her short brown hair, people getting spooked over a dilapidated
home with a less than perfect history.
Nelly picked up her luggage and
squared her shoulders before turning to face the infamous two-story house.
Peeling paint exposed the weathered, gray boards beneath. Window shutters
barely hung on or were missing completely. She could see how peoples'
superstitions were fed by such a sight, but she wouldn't call the place
haunted. If fact, she now called it home since the house was handed down to her
from a line of relatives who wanted nothing to do with it.
She stepped to the door, unlocked it
and swung it wide.
Entering the dark interior, the
putrid smell of dead animal immediately hit her. She gagged and stepped back.
Rummaging in her luggage for a bandana, she tied it around her mouth and nose.
It helped to dull the stench. She reached for the light switch inside the door
and flipped it. Only a hollow click met her ears. Darn it! No electric hook up
yet. She'd get with the electric company tomorrow. Luckily, it was only ten
o'clock in the morning. She'd have the entire day of sunlight before needing her
flashlight.
Dust, cobwebs . . . and BONES? . . .
covered every inch of the place. The old furniture was torn apart and broken,
as if wild dogs had used them as scratching posts. An animal must have been
living here. She hoped by now it was long gone. She needed to clean the house
before her own furniture arrived tomorrow. For tonight's stay, she'd brought a
foam pad, sleeping bag, pillow and something to eat in addition to some extra
clothes.
She walked to the kitchen and turned
the faucet on. She was rewarded with water, albeit brown, but it was something.
Searching the cabinet below, she found an old rag, stiff and crusty from its
last use, and set to work cleaning her abode.
Nelly worked until the sun began to
set, starting from the second floor and making her way to the first. She'd
gathered and dumped so many bones into the yard that the white skeletal
fragments covered most of the dead lawn surrounding the house. She never found
the animal responsible for the assault on the home. She hopefully never would.
With only the living room and
kitchen pantry left to clean, she eyed the wood burning stove in the living
room corner. The setting sun shined red light into the room, illuminating
something beneath the stove. Lying between its four squatty legs was a black
book, the word "JOURNAL" written on the cover. She pulled it from its
50 year-old bed and blew it off. Opening the old binding to the first page she
read the yellowed title. "Journal of James Patterson, 1962." That was
the year James was arrested for murder. Her curiosity peaked, she flipped to
the last entries:
October 29, 1962—Had a 6.5
earthquake today. No damage to the house as far as I know. Before bed, Matilda
said she heard scratching sounds somewhere in the kitchen. I didn't hear
anything, but as Matilda is blind, her hearing is more acute than mine.
Probably a stray animal spooked from the quake. Matilda has a soft spot for
homeless animals, much to the strain of our finances as she gives them more
meat than we see on our table. Just a week ago, I tried to put my foot down on
her charity, saying she couldn't feed the strays our good meat anymore. I don't
know if she'll heed my words, however, her having such a big heart.
October 30, 1962—A tragic day! As I passed the pantry, I heard Matilda's muffled voice. Who was she talking to? I peeked in. The cellar door at the back of the pantry was open. I crept down the stairs. Matilda's voice grew louder with each step. At the bottom, I stood by the door frame that enters the cellar room, just out of sight, and I finally made out her words.
"There you go, sweeties, there's some food. That's it, eat your fill."
I could hear loud chewing, like dogs eating raw meat. Were these the strays she'd heard last night? Was she hiding them, knowing I'd be mad she was feeding them our good meat again? I rolled my eyes before peeking around the doorless frame into the earthen room. I expected to see dogs, or cats, or at least something ordinary. Instead, what I saw horrified me to the core. Matilda sat on the dirt floor feeding raw beef to five hideous creatures, the type of which I still don't know! Though light from the bulb dimly lit the room, it was the luminescent green emitted from their eyes that shed an eerie glow over the area. They reminded me of the black-skinned demons portrayed in ancient drawings, with large pointed ears and razor-sharp teeth. The fangs dripped dark green saliva. The beings were vile. Evil. My skin crawled and my heart pounded. What were these monstrosities? And where did they come from? Matilda's compassion for homeless animals was admirable, but this was ludicrous. With her lack of sight, she didn't seem to know they were frightening creatures clearly not of this world, the world above ground, anyway. Though they seemed only interested in eating, I wanted to jump in and grab Matilda away. But I hesitated. If I startled them, who knows what they might do.
A jagged hole in the dirt floor, about 3 by 4-feet, loomed in the far corner. It hadn't been there before. The quake must have torn the ground apart, opening the way for these monsters to surface. In support of my conclusion, another revolting beast pulled itself up from the depths with skinny, black arms. It skittered across the floor on all fours to join the feeding frenzy.
"Yes, little one," Matilda cooed, "come and eat what I have left, for I'm nearly out."
As she gave the last chunks to the newcomer, the others sniffed around for more. When they found none, they hissed and advanced on Matilda. Before I could react, they had her in their saliva-laden mouths. They tore and pulled at her flesh with such brutality that it was only seconds before she was gone. There was nothing I could do, and if they found me, my fate would be the same.
I scrambled back up the stairs while they were occupied with feeding, but before I reached the pantry, two of them came around the corner and hissed. They bounded up the stairs and I threw myself into the pantry. Risking a glance back I found that my pursuers had stopped advancing and instead, slunk away, shielding their eyes from the light of day. They shrank back to the dark cellar and I slammed the door, locking it tight.
I was safe for the moment, but oh, my poor, poor Matilda. I had to find a way to close up the hole and kill the unholy fiends before more people became victims. I could only think of one warning to others: Beware the scurrying feet; they search for flesh to eat. I've taken the time to write this in case I, too, fall victim to the demons, and no one will know the truth without my journal entry.
October 31, 1962—Had a sleepless night thinking about destroying the monsters. Since I didn't know how deep the hole was, the only thing I could think of was dynamite to collapse it. I gathered ten sticks from the shed, left over from my war years, and tied them together, before stashing them in the chimney. Until I know if the police will believe my story, I won't expose my plan. I told the police something terrible happened to Matilda and to come at once. I didn't think they'd come if I told them the truth out right, probably thinking it was a practical joke.
Oh, here they come now. When they see the creatures for themselves, they'll help me destroy them.
October 30, 1962—A tragic day! As I passed the pantry, I heard Matilda's muffled voice. Who was she talking to? I peeked in. The cellar door at the back of the pantry was open. I crept down the stairs. Matilda's voice grew louder with each step. At the bottom, I stood by the door frame that enters the cellar room, just out of sight, and I finally made out her words.
"There you go, sweeties, there's some food. That's it, eat your fill."
I could hear loud chewing, like dogs eating raw meat. Were these the strays she'd heard last night? Was she hiding them, knowing I'd be mad she was feeding them our good meat again? I rolled my eyes before peeking around the doorless frame into the earthen room. I expected to see dogs, or cats, or at least something ordinary. Instead, what I saw horrified me to the core. Matilda sat on the dirt floor feeding raw beef to five hideous creatures, the type of which I still don't know! Though light from the bulb dimly lit the room, it was the luminescent green emitted from their eyes that shed an eerie glow over the area. They reminded me of the black-skinned demons portrayed in ancient drawings, with large pointed ears and razor-sharp teeth. The fangs dripped dark green saliva. The beings were vile. Evil. My skin crawled and my heart pounded. What were these monstrosities? And where did they come from? Matilda's compassion for homeless animals was admirable, but this was ludicrous. With her lack of sight, she didn't seem to know they were frightening creatures clearly not of this world, the world above ground, anyway. Though they seemed only interested in eating, I wanted to jump in and grab Matilda away. But I hesitated. If I startled them, who knows what they might do.
A jagged hole in the dirt floor, about 3 by 4-feet, loomed in the far corner. It hadn't been there before. The quake must have torn the ground apart, opening the way for these monsters to surface. In support of my conclusion, another revolting beast pulled itself up from the depths with skinny, black arms. It skittered across the floor on all fours to join the feeding frenzy.
"Yes, little one," Matilda cooed, "come and eat what I have left, for I'm nearly out."
As she gave the last chunks to the newcomer, the others sniffed around for more. When they found none, they hissed and advanced on Matilda. Before I could react, they had her in their saliva-laden mouths. They tore and pulled at her flesh with such brutality that it was only seconds before she was gone. There was nothing I could do, and if they found me, my fate would be the same.
I scrambled back up the stairs while they were occupied with feeding, but before I reached the pantry, two of them came around the corner and hissed. They bounded up the stairs and I threw myself into the pantry. Risking a glance back I found that my pursuers had stopped advancing and instead, slunk away, shielding their eyes from the light of day. They shrank back to the dark cellar and I slammed the door, locking it tight.
I was safe for the moment, but oh, my poor, poor Matilda. I had to find a way to close up the hole and kill the unholy fiends before more people became victims. I could only think of one warning to others: Beware the scurrying feet; they search for flesh to eat. I've taken the time to write this in case I, too, fall victim to the demons, and no one will know the truth without my journal entry.
October 31, 1962—Had a sleepless night thinking about destroying the monsters. Since I didn't know how deep the hole was, the only thing I could think of was dynamite to collapse it. I gathered ten sticks from the shed, left over from my war years, and tied them together, before stashing them in the chimney. Until I know if the police will believe my story, I won't expose my plan. I told the police something terrible happened to Matilda and to come at once. I didn't think they'd come if I told them the truth out right, probably thinking it was a practical joke.
Oh, here they come now. When they see the creatures for themselves, they'll help me destroy them.
James wrote no more, but Nelly knew
the rest from old police records. The authorities had followed James to the
cellar, but the only things found were bits of Matilda's torn body. The
creatures were nowhere in sight. The police thought James made up the
"demon" tale to cover his crime, and they immediately arrested him.
Shivers raced up Nelly's spine. She
felt in her heart that James' words were true. Something demonic took place in
the cellar. She opened the wood burning stove and reached up inside the
chimney. Sure enough, ten sticks of dynamite were wedged into the cylindrical
metal shaft. She pulled them out and stared at the letters reading TNT. The
sticks were tied together and had one long fuse for the entire group. A pack of
matches was taped to the bottom.
The sun finished its decent and the
room darkened. Dusk.
Nelly's breathing quickened at the
thought of being in this place now. The creatures could still be alive and
venturing out each night to feed. If she stuck around, she'd be their next meal
for sure. Should she run from this nightmare house and never look back, or use
the dynamite to finish what James had started 50 years ago? Yes, she knew she
must try to destroy the evil gateway. It was just barely dark. Was there still
time to do the deed before creatures began climbing out of the wide fissure?
Though fear gripped her heart, she
illuminated her flashlight, grabbed the dynamite pack, and crept her way to the
pantry.
The door stood ajar, though only a
few inches. She pushed it wide and the strong odor of rotting flesh escaped
into the kitchen. She pointed the flashlight to the rear of the pantry. A dark
entry to the stairs awaited her.
Listening for sounds, but hearing
nothing, she took a deep breath and moved forward into what might be her tome.
Step by agonizing step, she stole
down the stairs, hearing the crunch of bones beneath her feet and forcing
herself not to turn and run away. She paused every few seconds to listen, but
other than the bones, no other sound met her. She came to the doorless frame
and peeked into the earthen chamber. Bones littered the floor in such mass that
she couldn't see the dirt beneath.
She swept her flashlight side to
side, wondering if she'd catch a green-eye looking at her, but nothing
appeared. Were all these bones from years ago and by some strange fate, the
creatures were now gone?
She stepped into the room, her
heart's rapid beat pounding in her ears, and crunched her way to the far corner
where the ominous hole sat. Pointing the beam of light into the chasm, she
couldn't see its bottom. It was dark. Everything was dark. Though no creatures
were present, she couldn't take the chance they were just late coming. She dug
a hole in the bones with the end of her flashlight and stood it up so the light
struck the ceiling. She took the matches from the TNT pack before setting the
sticks near the edge of the hole.
Taking a deep breath and holding it,
she made to strike a match when she heard scuffling sounds deep inside the
hole. She recalled James' warning words, "Beware the scurrying feet; they
search for flesh to eat." Gazing into the fissure, she distinguished a
faint greenish glow rising from the darkness.
They were coming.
Her trembling hands dropped the
match and she fumbled for another. Before Nelly could light it, a hissing 50-pound
monster launched itself from the hole, its boney hands gripping her leg in a
crushing grip. Barbed teeth viciously bit into her thigh. Nelly screamed and
kicked with all her might, flinging the beast off and back into the hole. It
screeched as it fell down, but Nelly heard more fiends scrambling up the
tunnel.
Ignoring the searing pain and blood
oozing from her accosted leg, she kicked and sent hundreds of bones pouring
into the shaft, hoping to slow their assent. She struck the match and lit the
fuse before limping backing to the doorway. All at once, four black skeletal
forms sprang from the hole and scrambled after her. She kicked and punched as
they bit into her flesh. She somehow shook them off and shambled up the stairs.
She fell into the pantry and kicked the door shut, as black fingers reached
through. She smashed them between door and door jam. Piercing screeches echoed
on the other side as Nelly stood and pushed at the door with her shoulder. The
fingers retreated and she turned the lock. Though nearly out of breath, she
sprinted from the house.
Five steps off the porch her body
was thrown forward from the power of the explosion. She landed sprawled on her
stomach several yards into the forest edge, pieces of house and soil raining
down around her. Pulling herself up with effort, she looked where the house no
longer stood. A crater took its place. The dry grass and trees around it burned
red against the night. She limped to the crater and peered into it.
No fissure.
Success. All was safe again.
She sighed and sat down on the
ground. She examined her torn flesh. The bites on her legs, arms and torso felt
tingly, but didn't hurt much anymore. A strange sticky substance, like dark
green sludge, oozed from every bite. Looking closer, she noticed the skin
around her wounds turning black. Grabbing a mirror shard beside her, she
glanced at her face in the reflection and gasped.
Her former brown-eyes had turned an
incandescent green. They glowed back at her and she suddenly had the irresistible
craving for raw meat.
http://s135.photobucket.com/user/sweetie259pie/media/green/Eyes-19.jpg.html |
Beware!
Beware the Scurrying Feet
Beware! Beware the scurrying feet,
They hunt and search for flesh to eat,
Ensure it's not you, so hide from their view,
Don't make a sound, or they'll come around!
Beware! Beware the fissure wide,
Its gaping mouth is tough to hide,
Take heed of the lure, where darkness is sure,
'Tis demons' abode, where evil is sowed!
Beware! Beware the bright green eye,
The glow will draw you as a fly,
Though fear of sun's ray, may keep them at bay,
Night makes them bold, can no longer hold!
Beware! Beware the poisoned drip,
It hies from tooth designed to rip,
Absorb this phlegm, you'll be one of them,
Spurn if you might even one tiny bite!
Beware! Beware the scurrying feet,
They hunt and search for flesh to eat,
Ensure it's not you, so hide from their view,
Don't make a sound, or they'll come around!
They hunt and search for flesh to eat,
Ensure it's not you, so hide from their view,
Don't make a sound, or they'll come around!
Beware! Beware the fissure wide,
Its gaping mouth is tough to hide,
Take heed of the lure, where darkness is sure,
'Tis demons' abode, where evil is sowed!
Beware! Beware the bright green eye,
The glow will draw you as a fly,
Though fear of sun's ray, may keep them at bay,
Night makes them bold, can no longer hold!
Beware! Beware the poisoned drip,
It hies from tooth designed to rip,
Absorb this phlegm, you'll be one of them,
Spurn if you might even one tiny bite!
Beware! Beware the scurrying feet,
They hunt and search for flesh to eat,
Ensure it's not you, so hide from their view,
Don't make a sound, or they'll come around!
Thanks for sharing valuable information, Keep posting like this
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