Oh, Bloody Night

The door made an eerie creak as I pushed it open just enough to peek into the room.

I couldn’t see much; it was late and the only lights were from small shrinking candles. There was a chandelier of them in the hallway where I stood, but in the room, it seemed as though there was only one.

I could see the vague outline of a male, fatigued and fallen to his knees, head hung low as if praying, but all I could hear was whimpering. His hands were behind his back, possibly tied.

A dark figure hovered in front of him, a hand holding a long hunting knife that glinted menacingly in the candlelight. He moved forward, knife angled downwards towards Mitchell’s skull.

I looked away; his blood curdling scream sent chills deep into my bones. The Thing was cutting open his head, slowly, starting at the top of his crown.

I turned around and quickly made my way downstairs – there had to be someone who would help, even if it really was too late. I bounded down the steps two at a time until I reached the bottom of the flight, then turned left to dash into the next room only to come in contact with a large, semi-hard surface.

Jackson held my shoulders to steady me with a questioning look on his face. Breathless, I answered: “Upstairs, Mitch... monster.”

Jackson let me pull him up the stairs. We barged in the room as he simultaneously pulled a switchblade out of his pocket to defend us, but it was useless. The Thing was already gone.

Mitchell had fallen over on his back, brain hemispheres lied separate, but in between his open skull which still lied partially on his shoulders. A bloodied axe was thrown beside his body. Evidently the knife I saw earlier was only the starting weapon.

I stepped closer. The only light in the room came from a lone candle in the corner to my right, just enough to see the last gruesome act towards Mitch.

My eyes traveled from his head down to his blood drenched shoulders. I took one more step before realizing his arms were gone; severed off. Cartilage and a small amount of shoulder meat stuck out from underneath his skin.

The blood from his head left a puddle, and as I looked closer I noticed I was treading in a pool of blood that came from where his arms should have been.

Jackson maneuvered himself around the blood as to not step in it, to rush to the window.

“Katherine!”

My head snapped up from the gory scene. Jackson motioned me over to the window. I stepped over Mitchell’s corpse, splattering blood around the ankles of my jeans, seeping into my shoes, to look at what he was pointing to.

Scurrying up the sidewalk was the Thing. It had ten arms, two of them covered in fresh blood, and it walked on the ground like a spider. It’s body, freakishly small in comparison to its stolen arms, just a little ball of a head as big as a fist. Multiple eyes glimmered in the moonlight as it made its way back into the darkness once more.