mirror of https://github.com/nealey/Horrors2
151 lines
4.5 KiB
TeX
151 lines
4.5 KiB
TeX
\chapter{The Horrid Beginning of It All}
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\by{BatsBjorg}
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Eleven-year-old Luke Bavarious stood frozen in the doorway to his
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bedroom. He couldn't turn the light on. He wouldn't be
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able to turn it back off from his bed. But he couldn't get to
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his bed without the light on. He was in a real pickel.
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``Dad!'' Luke Bavarious yelled. Another year, another
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month maybe, and he'd be too old to yell for his daddy. But
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yell he did. ``Dad?''
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Luke Bavarious could hear the sounds of the Mets game from the
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living room. He could also hear the sound of another Coors popping
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open. His father's alcoholism had become publicly known sense
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his mother had left. Luke Bavarious thought his father was probably
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about halfway through his Coors consumption. The Coors consumption
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varied based on how poorly the Mets were playing, and right now
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they were on a hell of a skid. Luke Bavarious got a not-unwelcome
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rush from thinking the word ``hell.'' Hell, hell, hell,
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he thought. Shit, hell.
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``{\bf Dad?}'' One more time.
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``{\bf Goddammit} Luke! What is it now. I toldja gota bed fiteen
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mints ago!'' Maybe more than halfway through the night's
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Coors.
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``C'mere a sec!'' Luke Bavarious wouldn't
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tell Bartholomew Bavarious what he wanted until he came to the
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bedroom.
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``Goddammit{\ldots}'' Luke Bavarious heard his father
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mumbling curses under his breath, heard his shuffling steps down
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the hallway, and then he was there. Luke Bavarious could smell the
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putrid stink of stale Coors and BO oozing from his father's pores.
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Or maybe his unwashed undershirt.
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``Will you turn the light off for me after I get into
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bed?''
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``Jayzus! Notiss shit `gin!'' Luke Bavarious
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watched, horridfied, as his father drunkenly reeled into the pitch
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black bedroom. His father wiggled his ass at the closed closet
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doors. ``Scareduh monshters? Monshter inna
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closet?''
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Luke Bavarious felt a thin stream of vomit rise up in his mouth,
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then burn his throat as he forced it back down. His voice cracked.
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``Dad, don't. Just{\ldots} just.. get the light,
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wouldya?''
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Bartholomew Bavarious ignored his son. Or maybe didn't hear him over his
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own drunken whoops. ``Monshter inna clos{\bf et}! Monshter inna
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clos{\bf et}!'' He sang over and over, in a childish rhythm. Luke
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Bavarious stood, unblinking, unbelieving in the doorway. He saw the
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closet doors rattle slightly.
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``Dad!'' His voice pitched upward, like a little
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girl's would. It was the last time in his life his voice
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would break like that. ``Dad, seriously. That's not a
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good idea{\ldots}''
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``{\bf Notta guddea}? Oh fuck you, Luke Bavarious.'' And with
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that, his father threw open the closet doors, completely unprepared
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for the horrid behind them.
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Luke Bavarious couldn't turn away. He saw a fountain of vomit
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bubble up and spew forth from his father's mouth, but he
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didn't notice his own vomit until later. It got all over his
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feet.
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The horrid in the closet shot two tentacles out as fast as
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lightning. Bartholomew Bavarious' eyes bulged, the Coors
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leaving his body in a flood of beer-scented piss that soaked into
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the carpet. The horrid's tentacles wrapped around Bartholomew
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Bavarious' throat. Two more wrapped around his arms. A slimy,
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barbed tongue eased from the horrid's mouth. It slashed
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Bartholomew Bavarious' face open, clear from one cheek to the
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other. Blood erupted from the face, mixing with the beer-piss in a
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rusty puddle.
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``Oh dad!'' Luke choked out. The horrid turned its horrid
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head for one horrid second. A glimmer of recognition flashed in its
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horrid eyes, but only for a horrid second. Then it unhinged its
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horrid, terrible jaws, vomiting forth a horrid stream of green,
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acidic vomit. Bartholomew Bavarious' clothes started to steam
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and simmer. The last thing Luke Bavarious saw were his
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father's eyes plucked out and eaten, first one, then the
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other.
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A single tear rolled down Luke Bavarious' cheek. Then
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suddenly, he was not sobbing. He knew what to do.
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He sprinted to the bedroom his parents had once shared, back before
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the Coors and the publicly known alcoholism. He took his
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father's Beretta from the nightstand, relishing the feel of
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it in his small hand. It was cool, in every meaning of the word. A
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shock of what he would later know as desire prickled at his belly.
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He raised the Beretta, testing it. He grabbed ammo and shoved the
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gun in the waistband of his pants.
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From the bedroom that was once his, he heard slurping sounds. He
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decided to take the shoes he'd left by the front door instead
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of his favorite sneakers. Now that he thought about it, those were
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kids' shoes anyway, and Luke Bavarious was a man.
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