Building 21 “Metamorphosis”

“I don't think I'll be able to write right soon. Hands are getting numb. Mind is getting foggy. They're calling for me.

On the way home, I was so focused on remembering to get some milk that I wasn't focusing on the road. It runs along the beach a few blocks from my house. The black thing was just lying there. That thing with blood red eyes; hundreds of them.

My car stalled slightly as the thing slipped underneath the car. I stopped immediately, even though I had no idea what I had hit. It kept writhing as I approached it. The tentacles that had torn off were flopping around. And in my head, but not in my head, I kept hearing its voice.

“They are only starting to move. It only gets worse from here.”

I had pulled it off the road. I don't think I was thinking clearly. It had said that it wasn't going to hurt me. That it just wanted to get back to the shallows. It is legion. It must endure. I still don't know how I moved it, considering its size...it said that I shouldn't go home. That it was already too late.

That was the last thing it said to me.

Then I headed home.

I sat in the driveway a little bit longer than I expected to. I was just trying to get myself ready to face my family. Thirty seconds went by. Then a minute. I still didn't know what I was going to say. I didn't want to think about what I would say.

Two minutes went by and I thought I saw someone move a curtain. They were wondering about me. They wanted to know why I was just sitting in the driveway. They were probably developing theories, but none of them are right. I was tired, but my heart was racing. What was I supposed to say? How could I tell them about my day? Should I just lie and pre-tend that everything was alright?

She opened the door and headed down the walk. I heard myself gasp.

She was outside my window. My daughter. She was asking me if everything was alright, but I didn't respond.

I looked at her, and she smiled with a smile that was too wide for her face. Her skin seeped like oil, her eyes now cold black orbs. Her pretty pink dress was covered in black. For some reason, I thought about it all again. About the thing I hit on the way home. How it screamed. How it kept telling me that this was only the start of something terrible.

I looked towards the house. My wife, the thing that has the shape of my wife, was waiting for me inside. It's all wrong, but I have nowhere left to go. This is the end of everything.

I opened the door and stepped out, hesitating before I took my daughter's hand.

It burns where it touches.

Hand in hand, we headed towards the house. The thing sweetly welcomed me home as I stepped inside. My wife never welcomed me like that. My arm is going numb. They know. They know I have nowhere else to go. I don't feel my hand any-more. I'm looking down, and I see black.

I told them I needed to go in my study for a bit. I needed to write something down.

I think I'm going to sleep for a bit.”

A body was found along the train tracks. He had steel rebar running through his skin and joints. It held him up in a standing position and planted him to the ground. I heard that he died of exposure, and that he had been out there for almost three days. Three days, and no one had noticed, or had even cared, to report it.

I imagine the second option was more likely true. People don't report things around here. He worked at a nearby train yard. Junker and such. I can't imagine what sort of trouble he got himself into. Whatever it was, I doubt he earned what happened to him. His name was David. He was 55.

Closed casket.

She is mostly back to her old self.

Margaret, I mean.

Aside from her looks, I have gotten used to her new skin, and she has managed to adjust to the new tongue. At this point I hardly noticed a difference in her voice. She is smiling more, but some days she gets really sad. She thinks that I see her differently. That things aren't like they used to be. I would be lying if I said it wasn't an adjustment, but all I care about is that we have made it work. And things are different.

But that isn't necessarily a bad thing.

I decided to ask the police about the new note. I didn't want to get involved, but better safe than sorry. They said that the house had been abandoned, that someone had trashed the place; burned the carpet and the tub specifically. Not exactly sure how the hell they did that.

Anyway, not my problem. I don't care how many notes get thrown at me. I have my own problems. If this street is falling apart, I could honestly care less. Just as long as it doesn't bother mine.

My cat Loyd and his little excursions at night have been getting longer. I also bought him a leash the other day. I know it's weird, but I just need to burn off some energy, so that he won't wander so damn much. I don't want him bringing me anymore dead bits to the door.

He seems to have really become really attached to Margaret which is good. That was what I intended.

It’s kind of quiet, but that's fine. After a long night in the restaurant, it's exactly what I am looking for.

Nice and quiet.

The therapist seems really encouraged by my progress. Not as many nightmares, though I have been bringing Margaret. We need to start doing all of this together.

I brought her home flowers today. She was thrilled. I planted them in the front. I hope the temperature doesn't drop off.

It was a little muggy today. Saw a homeless woman digging through my garbage. Told her to get the hell off my property. When she didn't, I called the cops on her.

She didn't try to get away.