Heck
The Things That Should Not Be
Sleeping Stone, California
May 13th, 1988
Plumes of weed smoke blossomed in the midnight air, unknowingly masking the invisible yet potent scent of future death. The monsters delighted in it. The two humans were none the wiser. The monsters preferred this. Sudden, overwhelming fear enhanced the taste of blood. It didn’t taste as good otherwise.
The sickos hiding in the shadows loved the sweet, metallic flavor, always desiring what was forbidden to them except on nights like this one.
Tonight, monstrous feasting was allowed.
Their masters had given them permission to roam.
~~~
“Why are you such a slowpoke all of a sudden? Come on!” Lacey walked backward, her steps lazy and slow, a plume of smoke escaping her sly purple-painted lips. She giggled and flashed the smile Christian loved so damn much. “Hurry up! I’m so lonely up here!” She spun back around and continued further into the woods, her long black skirt billowing in the cool wind.
The locals of Sleeping Stone called this section of woods the Devil’s Den. Light seldom broke through the dense canopy no matter what time of year it was. Even when everything was dead and bare and waiting to be newly resurrected, no light dared to shine. The Devil’s Den was an endless maze of shadow, a labyrinth with nothing to guide wanderers along the safe path. It was the perfect sanctum for aesthetes of darkness, for lost souls society refused to understand.
Or drunken, high-off-their-ass idiots who wanted a thrill and a story to tell their friends over cheap booze and tabletop games.
The legend of Devil’s Den centered around voices—the whispers twirling through the cracks of dead tree trunks and moist cave mouths, taunting passersby with tall tales from the realm beyond. Some say the Devil’s Den was a mouth to Hell, with legions of monsters who could know and see all. Cautionary tales had been passed down through the generations since the town’s founding, each one taking it less seriously than the one before. A lesson in terror became nothing but a silly story.
After all, there was no such thing as monsters.
As Lacey approached a tall tree, she spun on one foot and fell against the trunk, her unruly brunette locks blending into the wood. She appeared one with the bark, a wood nymph returning home. She took a hit off her joint and watched Christian. Twigs and pebbles cracked and crunched under his gait, his clunky black boots showing no mercy. She seductively blew out smoke and pouted. “You’re taking too long. I don’t wanna freeze out here.” Taking one last drag, she threw the joint down and put the stub out with the toe of her boot.
“I’m coming, sweetheart,” Christian said gruffly, his long black hair swaying as he hurried along. “If you didn’t walk so damn fast we could’ve had a nice stroll together. You know, hand in hand. Maybe share a few kisses here and there. I would’ve squeezed your cute little ass at least twice.”
Lacey giggled and the lilting sound prompted Christian to run the last couple of feet. He stood before her, looking down with a soft smile. Their breaths entwined, the fog creating a loose sense of privacy. Christian grabbed Lacey’s hands, thumbs stroking over the nimble fingers. He pulled them toward his lips and warmed them with little kisses along the knuckles. Lacey giggled again, and Christian’s heart jumped. It was one of the best noises he’d ever heard, coming second to hearing her sweetly and angelically moan his name as he did that thing with his pierced tongue. Nothing beat the satisfaction of hearing how well he pleased his woman, his love, his reason for staying in Sleeping Stone a hell of a lot longer than he originally planned.
Lacey’s laugh was unlike anything else. If it were the last noise Christian heard before he died, he would die a happy man. He made a mental note to crack a joke before he croaked.
“Stop it! That tickles!” Lacey playfully batted him away, but she quickly grasped at his lapels and tugged him back, the worn black leather trench not making a sound. When they were flush, she slid a hand into his hair and yanked him down, kissing him fully. Christian knew she meant for it to be a small peck. But of course, as all their innocent kisses usually did, the peck turned into something more, something deep and passionate.
Christian grasped Lacey’s waist as their lips sensually moved, tongues dancing for dominance. Lacey shivered from the pleasure, whimpering at the sensation of cool metal in her warm mouth. As he always did, Christian won out in the end, effectively turning Lacey into putty in his hands. Lacey snaked her other hand into Christian’s hair and tugged slightly at the dark strands. Christian moaned into her mouth as he pushed her into the tree.
The sloppy sounds were cacophonous in the seemingly empty wood. After a few minutes, they pulled away with heavy, uneven, and very happy breaths. They gazed into each other’s eyes, allowing themselves to get lost in the beauty of their love. A charged look passed between them, one promising a continuation at a later time. They were plenty kinky but weren’t the least bit into exhibitionism. Sharing wasn’t their style.
The monsters hiding in the shadows, however, loved to share.
Just as Christian was about to suggest they head home, something moved behind a tree nearby. Pebbles scraped against the ground and tuffs of dirt flew. Sticks loudly cracked in the air that was now suddenly and eerily silent.
Lacey gripped Christian’s lapels and pulled him closer, seeking the same protection his tall and broad-shouldered frame provided her at metal concerts. “Did you hear that?” she whispered, lips quivering as her gaze flickered around. Christian’s grip tightened around her, the pressure on her hips toeing between comforting and bruising.
Whatever it was moved further away, nails scratching at bark. Rocks crunched as they settled into a new place in the ground. Wet and heavy breathing came from a tree a few feet away. Christian and Lacey remained where they stood, aimlessly looking around, unsure of what to do and think.
“Yeah,” Christian said, voice low, “I did.” He glanced down at Lacey, who had latched onto him like a starved leech, nails digging into the leather of his trench. The tiny pricks of her nails reminded him of a tattoo needle, but the high he usually received from such pain was nonexistent right now. Seeing Lacey terrified made his heart ache and he knew what had to be done. “I’m gonna check it out,” Christian said resolutely, leaving no room for second-guessing. He grabbed her hands and tugged them to his lips. “Stay here, baby.”
Donning the thick and invisible armor he wore during high school, armor he had to hastily make so the taunts of FUCKING FREAK didn’t bother him so much, Christian walked away.
“Christian! No! Are you fucking insane!” Lacey grasped Christian’s silver-ringed hand and yanked him back. “Haven’t you ever seen a slasher flick? It’s Friday the 13th for fucks sake!”
Christian huffed. “Sweetheart, just give me a second. It’s probably nothing. We’ll leave after I look. Okay?” He wrapped a pinky around Lacey’s and kissed their entwined fingers. “I promise.” With that, he turned and continued his trek, leaving Lacey alone.
He walked down a slight hill and reached the tree he thought the noise came from. At the same time he braced a hand against the trunk, the ground shifted, making him slip and slice his palm open. “Fuck,” he muttered, watching his love line turn into a leaking ribbon of red.
Dirt and rocks shifted, grabbing his attention once more. Something rubbed against the ground, like someone putting out a joint. While a familiar sound, Christian’s nerves froze over.
It got quiet. Too quiet. Not even the wind dared to blow, like a spell of silence was cast, making time cease to be. Making Christain stuck in the moment with no hope for escape.
He braced himself again and peered around the tree, looking toward the ground while tucking back his hair. He stilled, not breathing, not believing what he was seeing.
A thing of nightmares, a terrifying entity no single damn word could accurately describe.
Hunched over on the ground was something that shouldn’t exist, that couldn’t possibly exist but did anyway. Underneath a veil of translucently pale skin, black blood flowed. Pink muscles and white sinew tightened as the thing crawled, its head bending backward. The thing took a good, long look at Christian, its blind-white eyes curiously roving over him, brewing with something feral, dangerous. Something to run the fuck away from.
“WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK!” Christian tumbled to the ground in an attempt to back away. Pebbles pierced his palms and his boots mushed mud and fallen leaves together. After a third attempt, he finally got up and ran, hoping the thing followed him. Christian wanted it well away from Lacey. He managed a few feet before tripping and face-planting into something wet. His hand broke his fall, but it unfortunately fell victim to the thick and sticky substance.
Angling himself over a nearby root, Christian lifted his hand in a faint and rare beam of moonlight. He gasped at the blood coating his hand like an ichorous glove. It took him a moment to absorb what he was seeing, for him to process this wasn’t a bad trip, but reality. The copper scent assaulted his nose, harshly confirming this was all real.
Breath left him then, his throat constricting. He couldn’t get himself to do anything but stare at his hand in horrendous awe. Then he became all too aware of something wet creeping into his pants. He thought he pissed himself but the moonlight revealed red staining his jeans, creeping into the dark wash like a sanguine disease.
Christian had sat in blood, and considering how black his jeans were quickly becoming, he knew it wasn’t a small one. No, it wasn’t a pool of blood but a lake. He might’ve been a C-average in high school but it didn’t take much to know if someone lost this much blood, then there was no way in hell they were still alive.
Christian’s spiraling thoughts were interrupted by his name echoing throughout the woods, bouncing off the dead things. Lacey—he needed to get to Lacey. She yelled for him over and over and over again until she had to take a breath. He rushed to get up, his head light from shock. He needed to get back to her. She was what mattered the most.
However, the silence becoming thick once more stopped him in his tracks. It was unignorable how quiet it was. Heavy, the air was heavy. The yelling of his name ceased.
A blood-curdling scream took its place.
Lacey.
The damn thing had gotten to Lacey.
“HELP! CHRISTIAN, HELP! FUCKING HELP ME!” The feminine shrill dominated the Devil’s Den, filling it with a darker shade of terror. One could almost feel the amount of pain she was in—Christian felt it down to his bones, all the way to the bottom of his soul. Against what he desperately desired to do, Christian was frozen in place. Before he could get himself to run, something grabbed his leg and yanked him toward the ground.
His head bashed against a rock, opening a stream of blood that quickly dripped down his face. Along with his heart, his head pounded from pain and adrenaline. He needed to get up. He needed to fucking get up. And needed to do it now. Christian unsteadily pushed himself up.
Something forcefully grabbed his shoulders and slammed him back to the ground. Christian struggled, quickly realizing it was fruitless. The level of strength the thing possessed was inhuman, something not of this world. Not in the slightest.
Sharp claws sliced his leather coat and tore it off. A second later, those same claws pierced his arms, flipping him over. Wet breathing was hot against Christian’s face, the smell putrid. Like the rot of a bloating, decomposing corpse. He fought the urge to gag as he struggled against its grip. Hot breathing moved to different areas of his body. His face, his hair, his neck, chest, and torso. Half of his sight was obscured, but with the eye that wasn’t glued shut by blood, Christian watched his assault.
The thing smelt him, inspected him. It licked him. Once, twice, and then a third time. A low moan accompanied each lick, its tongue a slimy snake slithering over Christian’s body. After a while, the thing crawled off him and crawled away from sight.
Christian slowly got up, fully believing this was his chance to escape, to save Lacey.
But he was wrong.
He was so wrong.
An excruciating pain radiated from his lower body, a pain overtaking everything inside Christian. His bellowing screams could be heard for miles. Between bites of pain, he glanced down and saw the thing had sliced open his ankles and the back of his knees, preventing him from getting up and running.
The thing flipped him over again and slowly crawled up his body, its face inches from his. Its skin dripped off its bones, its hands thin and knobby. It gripped Christian’s chin, holding his head in place. With its other hand, it swiped a finger across the wound on his head. He winced from both pain and at the sight of the thing bringing its finger up to its mouth and licking, no, sucking the blood off of it. A deep, guttural noise left it, one hinting to Christian it was satisfied.
The thing stared down at him as its hands encased his head, fingers wrapping around his ears, nails puncturing his scalp. The thing leaned down and whispered, “I’m hungry, I’m so hungry. Our masters didn’t bring us food for our mission, so we must find our own.”
And with those words, Christian screamed for the last time.
His skin withered under the thing’s touch. Deep bags formed under his youthful eyes and his laugh lines deepened like valleys. His eyes went from a lively green to a white blindness. His teeth, one by one, fell out of his gums and tumbled into his throat. His long black hair transitioned into gray, then into an ancient silver. His screams turned into bloody gurgles, then into nothing at all.
Christed aged and died. As he parted the world with a pathetic breath, the thing’s transformation began.
Its skin became thick and pink, sucking itself back toward muscle and bone, its translucency no more.
Fresh, youthful skin. Human skin.
The gray under the thing’s eyes lightened and puffed out. The valleys around its eyes grew smaller, resembling smooth plains. Its eyes turned from white to a vibrant green.
The thing could now see all.
The thing’s teeth grew from dull nubs to pure white teeth and elongated canines. It could barely eat before, could barely survive. But now, it could enjoy full-course meals without any difficulty, meals that will consist of screams and blood.
The thing’s teeth could now pierce and tear at anything.
The thing’s hair grew, changing from short silver sprouts to long black strands full of lively volume. The thing wove its new fingers through its new hair, thoroughly enjoying the silky sensation.
The thing de-aged and began another life, a new existence.
The thing moved its new strong legs and stood up, walking away from the dead, aged human male. The thing looked with its new eyes and examined its surroundings.
Trees.
Darkness.
Death.
Quiet.
The thing looked down at its new hands, curling its fingers and frowning at the blunt ends of its nails. It mourned the loss of its bird-like talons, but quickly moved on to rejoice in its new features. Its spine no longer cracked with every movement. Its hair remained steadfast against the wind, not blowing away with it. Its arms were now healthy and firm, and could easily capture prey without any trouble.
The thing pondered these discoveries.
I appear human. I appear as a man.
The thing left the dead human in a pool of his blood, still wearing a mask of fear. The thing joined his companion, who finished feasting on the male’s lover.
The new couple reunited and joined hands, the blood from their kills staining their nude bodies. But they didn’t care. They were fed, no longer achingly hungry. The things examined their surrounding, facing it with new and fresh eyes.
A shady area covered with dense foliage, hidden away from prying eyes.
Their masters had chosen well.
The new woman turned toward the new man. “It’s perfect for us.” She childishly giggled, bouncing up and down. “We need to bring the others along.”
The new man tsked, wrapped his firm arms around his lover made anew. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, darling. We still have lots to do before the plan begins.”
The new man and the new woman walked through the Devil’s Den, reaching the edge overlooking the start of a small town. The new man kissed the new woman’s neck and whispered sweetly against her skin. “I can smell her already. Our masters sent us here to find her, but I didn’t think it would be so easy.” He playfully bit her neck. “Let’s have some fun.”
The things that should not be laughed and descended onto Sleeping Stone.
Samantha Heck
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