The Man With No Skin

Lily lay in bed staring at the ceiling. It was around 2 am in the morning. Her parents had fallen asleep hours ago, she could hear her dads deep, rhythmic snoring from down the hall. Her bed sat against the wall on the opposite of the room from her door, and in between the only two windows in the room. The moon light seeping through the old, frost coated glass gave some of the room a light blue-gray glow. The wind outside was strong, but not too loud to keep her up. The road their house sat on didn't get much traffic, especially at this time of the night.

What kept her up was the fear of the unknown. They had only lived in the house for a little under a month, and she hadn't yet gotten used to it. It was a lot bigger than their old apartment, and it had many rooms that appeared dark and empty. The floorboards creaked and groaned, drafts of air pushed and pulled doors, which also groaned. Sometimes, Lily's imagination got the best of her, and she would convince herself someone was walking around in the attic above her bedroom, or waiting outside her bedroom door.

A couple times she would call out to her parents, who would come running into her room, flipping the light switch on the wall, flooding her room with light. The first few times they told her it was alright and that nothing would happen to her, it was just a nightmare. But the more she called to them, the more agitated they became, to the point where she no longer called out to them, for fear that they'd get angry with her.

As she stared at the ceiling, she heard the noise again. A footstep above her, directly above where she was sitting. She knew it wasn't in her head, because with the second step she heard a little bit of dust and dirt fell through a crack in the ceiling, lightly drifting onto her chin and neck. She froze, terrified, not knowing what to do. She would have called out to her parents, but her mouth became so dry her tongue stuck to the top of her mouth. Listening for the footsteps again, she realized it was completely silent. Maybe it had just been a rat, or just the old house making sounds again. The more she thought this the less she became afraid. Eventually she was sure nothing was in the house. But her mouth was still terribly dry.

Her door slowly drifted open. Lily didn't want to wake her parents, but slowly opening the door caused more sound as it whined out long, blood curdling creaks, so she pulled it open quickly, catching it to stop it from hitting the wall. She tiptoed out into the hallway, trying to be as silent as possible.  The closer she was to the center of the floor, she realized, the more sound the floor boards made, so she crept down to the steps leaning against the walls.

The tiles on the kitchen floor were cold beneath her little bare feet. The kitchen was large, too. A big wooden table was placed in the middle of the room. The fridge was in the corner, next to the pantry door. There was one big window in the room, right above the sink, giving a nice view of the back yard. The basement door was right across from the fridge, and being old, warped, and dark brown, it clashed with the bright blue and white patterned colors of the kitchen.

As Lily walked to the fridge, the basement door drifted open, the long, drawn out squeal of the old, rusty hinges piercing the silence of the night, and eventually bumping into the wall. Lily could feel the fear rising into her. A chill ran up her spine, making the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand on end. She took a deep breath and decided to close the door, to prove that nothing was waiting in the darkness of the staircase leading into the basement. As she approached the door way she peered into the darkness. It wasn't just darkness, it was a black hole. No sound came from the basement, she couldn't see anything past the second step. There was no breeze coming up from the basement, which is odd, since there usually is.

For some reason that was unclear to Lily, panic took over. She had to flick the light switch up, just to make sure there was absolutely nothing down there. Light bulbs in the basement were dull, and although they lit the whole basement and the staircase, they gave it a creepy, unpleasant look. But Lily couldn't look away. Not because of anything that caught her eye, but the voice from within the bowels of the house.

It was a soothing, inviting voice. She felt comfortable hearing it, more comfortable than when her father used to try to console her after a nightmare. It called out, beckoning to her, asking her join it in the basement. The cold wooden steps leading to the basement wailed out under her steps, as if warning her, asking her to go back up. But she didn't acknowledge the noise. She didn't care if the sound of the steps somehow made their way to her parents and woke them. All Lily wanted was to find the person who this beautiful voice belonged to.

The basement was crowded with unpacked boxes and trash bags filled with clothes. Piles of them went from the floor to the ceiling, creating a maze-like set of walk ways weaving through the cluster. The cement floor was colder than the kitchen floor, and harsher on her feet. The voice grew louder as she wandered around the basement. Eventually she found herself moving boxes out of the way, leading her to a door, half the size of a regular door. The door was thick, and Lily had a hard time pulling it open.

When she got the door open a blast of cold air

Red Pills

The bus pulled away from the bus stop. The guy that stood on the sidewalk now looked around. The summer air was warm, although it was early in the night. He crossed the street and began walking to his friends house.

Tony lived a block from the bus stop. His house was old, almost neglected. The front door had no lock, the basement door was nowhere to be found. The grass on the lawn was brown and crisp. A group of friends stood on the porch of the house. Tony turned to look down the street. "Jay!" he called. "What took so long?"
"I missed the first bus, dude." Jay called back.

Before he got to Tony's place, he popped a few more pills into his mouth and swallowed them, washing them down with a half empty water bottle. Jay's palms were sweaty, and his fingers had faint red stains from the pills and sweat.

In what seemed like a blink of his eyes, he was standing in Tony's kitchen. A group of friends stood around Jay, all of them holding cans or red plastic cups.

"Hey, are you okay?" a voice asked. Jay looked around, unsure of who asked. He ignored the question, pushed past everyone, and headed for the basement. Another blink and he found himself sitting on the couch. A thick pall of smoke hung in the basement, blurring Jay's vision.

"Fuck. Guys, I think I fucked up." Jay said, as he stood to try to get to the bathroom. He realized he didn't recognize anyone in the basement, but he wanted someone to comfort. Another 'blink' goes by.

His reflection in the bathroom looks like shit. Pale skin, dark, purple bags under his eyes. His body feels heavy. Without feeling it coming, he vomits into the toilet. Red liquid fills the water in the toilet bowl. His stomach is on fire, his throat burns, his head is pounding.

Then it's gone. The pain, the sickness, gone. Jay stands up, wiping his mouth clean. He reaches to flush the toilet, but immediately vomits again. Now it's a clear, thick liquid. The pain returns, this time doubling.

The third time he vomited he could taste blood. It filled his mouth, running down his chin, and dripping onto the floor. The pain was tremendous. He started to panic. When he had another black out, he's out for hours.

He woke up in a park, early in the morning. Someone laid him out on a bench. The sun was already beating down. He could still taste blood, vomit, beer, and another, unidentifiable taste. Dry blood was spattered in small droplets all over his shirt. Think to himself about the night before, he realized he had, once again, overdosed on Coricidin.

After that, the change was complete

Lon sat at the desk, smoking a cigarette. He was worried. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead, his dark hair frayed, damp with sweat. A lamp sitting on the desk was the only source of light in the room, except a square of moonlight on the floor where the moon was shining through the window.

He was too afraid to look out the window, scared of what he knew was inevitable. From the pocket of his white button down shirt, he produced a small handkerchief, which he wiped his face with. Another drag from his cigarette and he placed it on a glass ash tray, still burning.

Slowly he stood and walked to the only door in the room. The door had been locked for hours now, but panic and fear had corroded Lon's memory of locking the door. He wasn't sure if he had locked it or not. He worried too much, had to double check.

Scratches ran down the center of the door. They were deep, whole chunks of wood were missing. The scratches only reminded Lon of the terrors from previous nights, very similar to this night.

After double checking the locks on the door he returned to his seat at the desk. His heart was racing, he could hear it pounding against his ribs. The cigarette was still burning, so he picked it up, killed it with one drag, and dropped the butt back into the ash tray.

He became hot, his face was burning, his heart beating even faster than before. Then hair began to grow from is arms, spreading down to his hands. His finger nails grew into claws. Bones throughout his body were shifting, extending and getting shorter, completely changing the structure of his body.

His brown dress pants ripped and tore, making room for his legs, which were getting thicker and hairier. Lon's whole body was covered in dark brown hair. His body twisted and convulsed, transforming him while he screamed out in agony. His face was the last to change. He felt his teeth shift position, getting longer and sharper. His jaw bone popped forward, jutting out to make room for the teeth. His whole face became covered in hair. After that, the change was complete.