Dante Silva

Furuness

PCA 233: Storycraft

1/23/24

My breath felt hot in my lungs, the air was begging to escape as it pounded in my throat,

but I couldn’t let it out, I knew I couldn’t let it out. Just a little bit longer, I thought I could do it,

just a little bit longer and I can make it. The wet, reverberating thuds of its steps against the

wooden floor were almost, almost, far enough away where I could scramble out of the hall

closet, and make it out the front door; I am so close, I was hoping. But, I couldn’t let it know

where I was.

A thin stream of air leaked through my lips — I had to, it would’ve heard my body

collapse to the floor otherwise — and rivulets of crimson creeped down my shaking right arm as

my left clawed into it. I need to keep my arm steady — my knuckles, white — as I clutch the

closet’s handle, keeping it shut, keeping it out. A mere jostle of the metal knob filled my heart

with dread, so I will keep my hand steady.

Breathe! My lungs had already shrunk, so I opened my mouth as wide as I could and

inhaled, but I gagged, almost. My home’s air had grown musty with its offensive stench, heavy

with its slithering malice, and thick with drops of iron.

Sthwop. Dinner had gone well today. For once. Mom and Dad finally went to counseling

last month. No one was yelling, or screaming, or crying — yet.

Squelch. We decided to try and watch a movie together; last time we did that was before

Gianna was born — her eyes were glowing with excitement. I just needed to get a glass of water.
 Slorgh. I walked back towards the family room. I caught only a glimpse of it, and my

body acted on its own; I slid into the closet and clamped the door shut.

I never heard it enter, but I could hear everything else. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. And

now I am sitting here, waiting for the right opportunity to run out of the house. The door is right

there, just past… the family room. I can’t move a muscle. Move, I can’t, MOVE, I CAN’T!

Open the door, close your eyes, grab the door frame and throw your body into an upright

position, ignore that it's probably coming for you, turn right, the front door is there, run forward,

forget the crunching, take a step, forget screaming, now take ten more, forget the gnarling, and

the gurgling, and the gorging, and please for the love of god let this nightmare end!

The cool night air breathes against my face as I shut the front door behind me. The moon

illuminates my pale flesh and bounces off my bloodshot eyes. I finally exhale as the last of my

strength is utterly exhausted, and its glutted mass wails against the door. See you soon, Gianna.