Hell Burns Cold: A Horror Anthology

The Moving Spot

Something is very wrong.

I first took note of it when I was at my vanity a couple hours after daybreak. I was doing my normal routine: I brushed my hair, shaped my brows, applied my various creams, dotted rouge onto my cheeks and some color on my eyes. Just before I went to apply my lipstick, I saw it. A precarious little spot just below where my bottom lip ended. It tantalized me, moving subtly every time I dared to take my eyes off of it. I thought perhaps it was nothing, and applied my lipstick and went on my way. The thought kept eating at the corners of my mind though, so I decided I would bring it up to my mother. She was very knowledgeable about these sorts of things after all.

I trod downstairs, careful to not allow the carpeted wood to squeak. I met my mother in the kitchen as she poured herself a glass of orangeade. I became fixated on the cold bacon resting quietly on the china plate next to her. It felt so out of place, and the brown crispiness felt like a silent taunt. It made me uneasy.

"Darlin' close your mouth, please. You'll draw flies." she said suddenly, smiling softly. "You want some coffee before your Daddy has at it?"

"Oh... um, yes ma'am I would like some please." I replied before stammering out the next part, "I-I... Mama, there's... there's s-something wrong with me."

She looked at me as she finished pouring my cup and scrutinized me with concern.

"Well you got my attention now. What's the matter, baby-doll?" she asked.

"There's a spot on my lip," I said, "B-But it's not stayin' in one place. It moves."

She sighed, adding three tiny scoops of sugar to my cup and a tiny pour of cream before holding my face and squinting to look at my mouth.

"Where's it at, baby? I'm not seeing it." she said. I pointed to the area where I saw it last.

"I'm not seeing anything, sweetheart. Do you want me to call the doctor and have him look at you? Maybe we can see what he says." she suggested.

"Well if you're not seeing it, I think seeing the doctor about it would be a smart thing to do. But I'm worried, what if it's real bad and he says I need to go to the hospital?" I asked, worry forming in my mind.

"I'll be right there for you if it ends up being that way, baby-doll. I promise." Mama assured me.

"You do?" I asked.

"Sure as the good Lord wakes me up each morning." she said, cupping my face and kissing my forehead, "Now, take your coffee and go on, get ready for school. Bobby's going to take you to school today."

"Bobby?" I groaned.

"Oh hush it, he's a nice boy." she chuckled.

"He's a fat-head, Mama. And the jokes he tries to make don't make a lick-a-sense." I said with a contemptuous eyeroll.

"He's an Army boy, I don't reckon lots of his jokes will land."

"Well maybe he should have been an airman, maybe he'd learn to land more than a plane."

There was a knock at the door suddenly.

"Skedaddle, go on and get ready. I think that's Bobby." Mama said.

I huffed, but I listened. Mama's word was good as law.

--

Bobby took me to and from school that day, and thankfully the ride both ways was uneventful and he kept to himself for the most part. He was a giant bore and I didn't quite like him very much on a personal level, but he wasn't bad to look at. He had big doe eyes that were green like moss, a dapper dark auburn crew cut, and was horse-faced but in a handsome chiseled way and while his teeth were kind of large, they fit his face quite well. He also had a honey tan from being outside so often.