Dying Under A Sunbeam🧛♥️

The Introduction :

Her mother screamed. She waited, rolled in her sheets and put her ear to the ground. Not a sound. Crickets crackled between the deep bushes in the distance, in the thick forest that licked the edge of the town that was merging into the countryside. The moon filtered through its dusty curtains, trying to tear its obstacle from its arms of light so that it could swallow the house whole. With a heavy arm, the young girl turned on the light switch, pushing the little piece of plastic upwards. The light, this time synthetic, chased the white pebble out of the room and whispered between the sleeping girl's eyelids. Morgan felt her eyes sting, wracked with a pain that blinded her for a moment as she sat up, wiping her dry lips. Not another sound. Reluctantly, she jumped out of bed and left the room, her feet sinking to the bottom of her slippers and crushing them against the fabric. It smelt like iron, strangely like iron in the corridor. The cold caught Morgan in her arms as she struggled to pull her dressing gown tighter. Not another sound. Slowly, she made her way into her house and stood at the top of the stairs, looking down.
<<Maman?>> she worried.
Her voice echoed, repeating her words, which rang in the hollow of her temple. The cold did not go away from her and the bottom of the stairs seemed further and further away. She quickly descended them, digging her shoes into the carpet, which squeaked. Outside, the belfry indicated 0:00 precisely, cutting with its nose the cloud that had covered her neighbour. Not a sound. The living room was empty, the settee pressed against the corner of the wall, almost drooling as the pillows slid across its surface to find the spicy warmth of the carpet. Morgan turned at the edge of the room and slipped into the kitchen. Her father was lying on the floor, his eyelids drained of their globes and blackened with blood, which was melting onto his face and against his stomach, which was roughly split open, the torn fabric of his t-shirt, vomiting thick, heavy liquid as it poured out. A man with powerful arms held the flaps of his victim's gut and with wet slaps, head first between his guts and his still faintly beating heart devoured his insides with ferocious chewing and wheezing. Shaking his head slightly, his pale face twitched in pain, his mouth contorted into an impossible complaint. The man grabbed his heart and uprooted it before going into convulsions as he devoured the flesh, ripping off the skin with disproportionate teeth and swallowing greedily the blood that spilled over his lips, still painted with the substance held in his father's tripe. Not another sound. Morgan's mother, who had been frozen until then, saw the young girl and wanted to scream, but a quick hand grabbed the woman, pulling her to the ground, and bent over her, thrusting both hands into her mouth. Her mother tried unsuccessfully to swallow and her eyes bulged as the stranger moved his arm down the woman's throat. With a wet wrench, he pulled out the mother's vocal cords and she threw them to the floor before grabbing her victim's lower and upper jaws with one hand.  He pulled them apart with such vigorous force that his prey's skull exploded and his slippery brain came crashing down next to Morgan's warm, whispering slippers. Her knees began to weaken as she felt a shiver run down her spine, she wanted to scream out for her mother but the lump in her stomach that weighed so heavily on her began to tear at her throat and fill her mouth with mute silence. An arm knotted her throat and she saw herself being lifted into the air. Adrenalin surged through her as the force of it surrounded the back of her neck with a blind pain that made her gurgle blood as the foam of the thick liquid at the edge of her lips slid away. Morgan let her eyes slide down to the battered and soiled bodies of her parents on the floor. A sledgehammer slammed into her assailant and she fell to the ground, her back cracking as her lungs filled with air tinged with the strong smell of burning and death. Her elbows met the cold surface of the tiles as her blood-soaked clothing clung to her skin. Two needles cut her throat. Not another sound. She began to writhe, her breath catching, a bead of sweat sliding over her dry, breathless eyes. The adrenalin subsided and her body stopped moving as her breathing became slower in rhythm with her heartbeat. She sank.