: Prompting Needed_

Old Flame II: The Blob

From Daily Quordle 361 (1/20/23): MOVIE, TRACK, CHAFE

Jerry's footsteps shook the glass sconces as he thundered down the hall and his fingers flew across his sleeve's buttons. A few tenants cracked open then quickly shut their doors as he passed, curiosity piqued by his heavy clomping. By the time he reached the door that separated the building's foyer from the hall, his arms were bared to the elbow and one fist was gripped in a tight, white lump. With his other hand he placed his fingers on the knob and felt someone on the other side rattle it slightly. Jerry stilled his breath and listened. The tell-tale clacking of a lockpick clinked and rattled through the door. Jerry flicked the lock open and pulled. The person that came stumbling in and past Jerry was cursing over their snapped tools and trying hard not to land cheek first on the worn, wooden floor. Jerry hadn't caught what the face had looked like, but the would-be intruder was dressed in non-descript tan and brown with their trench coat and brimmed hat covering most of their features. As they stumbled and eventually fell, a small silver tape recorder was jostled from their inner pocket. Jerry stooped to retrieve it before the person could.

"Can I help you?" Jack crossed his arms and watched at the person pushed themselves up and spun to face him. The face under the brim was mostly cast in shadow but what light did expose it showed deep, unsettling curves in the chin. Thin yellow hair spilled from the hat and sat limp on the shoulders. Tiny glittering points under the brim suggested eyes, but Jerry couldn't see any whites. Its breath came out in slow, steady hisses from a snot-filled airway.

"Yeah," it said. It held out a brown leather-gloved hand. Their voice was deep but not necessarily masculine. It reminded Jerry of his Aunt George. "My device. Give it back." Something about the cadence of the words chafed him, too.

Jerry slid the device in his back pocket and then recrossed his arms. "How's about you tell me where you come off harassing widows when they're by themselves." The reporter dove forward and tried to swipe its arm behind him. He stepped back, shoved lightly against its back, and suppressed a chuckle at the way it had to slide against the wall to keep from falling. The angle changed the way the sconces were lighting its face and Jerry's laugh died abruptly.

Olivia had been right. This thing's face did look like chewed gum. To be more accurate, it looked like it had ripped its features right out of a horror movie. There was no discernable nose between the deep-set black points of its eyes and it's thin, black mouth. A sharp point like a rotten holly leaf poked from its lips and it flicked up and down rapidly. The folds of its face flowed. Rolls of skin undulated from the forehead down into the thing's collar. "Ah, crap," it muttered. "You see me, don't you?" It straightened with a weary sigh, them took off its hat. The stringy hair came off with it. Unshaded, Jerry could now note the scaley nature of the thing's skin. The rippling effect began from the top of its scalp and made a oily sound as this skin folded against itself.

"Jerry?" He turned at the sound of Olivia's voice. She was peeking out of his office's door with concern in her eyes. He watched as her eyes darted from his to the thing behind him. "Are you okay?"

He couldn't answer because he was already pressed against the hallway's wall by the considerable weight of the thing's body as one of its arms snaked around him to retrieve its tape recorder while the other pressed against his jaw. Jerry got the sense of soft flesh being propelled by a solid cord of muscle beneath the coat's sleeve. He caught a whiff of the thing's scent. A sickening cloud flooded his nose with the scent of tar and old, unwashed flesh. He tried to shove the thing off him, but he had no purchase. He flailed as he gagged. A cloud of fur and silk materialized between them and Jerry gasped in relief as Olivia wedged the two apart with a cry. The reporter thing stumbled back with the recorder waggling from one hand. It clicked one of the device's buttons. Two yellow lights started to blink on it, partially obscured by the thing's fingers.

Olivia glanced back from staring angrily at the reporter up to Jerry's face. "I asked were you okay," she breathed.

"Can you not see his face?" Jerry straightened, gained his footing, and tried to move her behind him. He only succeeded in pressing her against the wood paneling. He held out a hand, palm out. To the thing, he yelled, "What the hell are you?"

Another, deep sigh that shook free some internal phlegm deflated the monster as it collapsed to pick up its hat. It replaced it and rumbled, "I'm here to track her mate's remains."

Both Olivia and Jerry paused. Jerry shook his head and began to stutter a response. Olivia remained stark-still against his side. His hand still rested on her shoulder in a protective stance. "Wha... what? Eric? You want to know about Eric's body?"

"The bones, specifically." The thing hefted its body towards the foyer door. "What I wasn't expecting is for her P.I. to be a videntis."

Jerry's ears popped when the thing opened the door. A fuzzy feeling wrapped around his brain as he suddenly felt as if he was floating. His head drifted in slow motion as he looked down to Olivia. Her face was frozen in mild concern and her coat floated around her body in an ethereal wisp of furs. His head turned again slowly, fighting air that was now an invisible quicksand. After a minute of forcing his head towards the foyer and the not-reporter, the thing placed his hand gently on Jerry's arm.

"Come on, you're going to see the boss." The thickness of the air didn't seem to hinder the creature at all and it moved with a liquid grace as it guided their floating bodies out the open door. Jerry's eyes finally adjust to what he had been staring into all along: there was no foyer. The thing was guiding them into a long black tunnel that had walls made of star-speckled night sky. The tunnel's far-off end bent down and to the left at first, but once all three were beyond the doorway, the direction shifted wildly upwards. Jerry's gut twisted as the sense of falling pulled at his equilibrium.

The universe swallowed the him, Olivia, and the reporter blob whole. Jerry could only hope they would survive the landing... whenever it inevitably came.