Metabolic Fuel for Nightmares

1

"Now, be a good boy and stay here, and don't make a sound, whatever. Mommy and Daddy are just playing with guests, and you are too by staying quiet here, okay?" his scared mother instructed.

"Mhm" the little boy said and nodded.

His mother tenderly kissed his forehead. He felt her salty tears follow her lips and settle on his forehead. She backed out of the crawlspace and closed the double doors to the broom closet.

He wanted to impress his Mommy by not causing a single decibel. He sat with his back exaggeratedly straight and stayed in that position for all of five seconds. His volition and muscle strength waned by then, and he was quickly reduced to a human slump wearing burgundy fleece pajamas.

When he opened the box on Christmas, he wasn't a disappointed child, like most, when he received clothes. He was instead ecstatic and hugged his parents over and over for the gift that was to him, the best thing in existence. "It's red! It's red!" he squealed over and over. His father told him in the warm voice of his that the pajamas were in fact a special type of red called burgundy.

With his face in his lap, he saw the burgundy of his pajama pants, even with the severe lack of lighting.

"Burgundy..." he whispered to himself, then quickly clamped his soft, undeveloped hands over his mouth at his disgraceful utterance. He was worried that Mommy and Daddy would be disappointed in him, but no one came to tell him he did anything wrong, so he concluded that they must have not heard.

But that gnawed at his conscience. He felt the sudden need to confess and plead for redemption to his almighty parents. But he also wanted to cower in the corner, behind the broom and mop and bucket to avoid his possible punishment.

The corner was the ultimate winner in the end. The corner was cold like the air, but it sure outweighed facing his parents, in his opinion. Once he was settled into the cold, grimy corner, he heard shrieks from outside his confinement. simultaneously, he also remembered that his Mommy had mentioned that he was supposed to stay where he was too. To him, the shrieks were shrieks of laughter and they were all having a good time. A smile grew across his face that almost beamed at the thought of his parents being that happy, then a bit jealous that he couldn't have that much fun either. He thought that maybe he wasn't playing right and that's why he wasn't having as much fun. Was he supposed to have fun and not shriek about it? He figured that that was the object of the game, and that he yearned to be the absolute best at it.

His imagination exploded in the dark. He imagined great things everywhere. For example, the shadows made this really weird sound, a sound that sounded like darkness. All the figured and silhouettes in the room became fancy ballerinas doing pirouettes and body contortionists doing an exhibition of their craft.

His face showed a smile and his parents made louder shrieks from the other room. Actually, they were louder and almost constant.

His wonderful brain continued tinkering the darkness into enjoyment. it was so good at it, that he was completely distracted and didn't realize all the shrieks of laughter had stopped. He wondered if his Mommy and Daddy were done, and were going to come and tell him what a spectacular job he did playing.

Mommy and Daddy didn't come after a few minutes of silence, so he crawled from his nook and stood to turn the doorknob. The old, faded-gold knob was oiled, so it turned fabulously and quietly, just like the hinges.

The hallway carpet was familiar to his feet. And even cold, because it was a few days after Christmas, and he remember vividly the coolness of the carpet early in the morning. The home smelled of sugar cookies and everything of the holiday season.

"Mommy, Daddy" he whispered from behind the corner. He rounded the corner and found something he was no expecting.

It was something no child should see.

Two men were dressed with uncanny, off-putting and downright terrifying masks. On mask was smooth and white with exaggerated eyes the size of tennis balls, a fair nose, and a perfect set of teeth. The other mask was less human. It was covered with faux fur that took the appearance of bear fur. The eyes were black, beady, and soulless like a rat. The nose was two, half inch in diameter circles side by side, and the mouth was the smile of someone pursing their lips.

The savage detail of the two people was the image the child saw at that very moment stamped into time. Each had a mess of brown and red and pink bloody flesh and soft tissue scattered around them and on them. It stained their clothes and little coagulated chunks were stuck in a stream down their chests. They were staring directly at the little boy, because he had called out to his parents exactly one second before hand.

The boy felt like he was in a lucid nightmare and wanted to wake up. He would've cried and yelled out, but he found his throat right and muscles weak from the inside out.

The two humanoids that wore the disturbing masks stood up with a synchronized grace. They turned around, and simply walked out of the house.

Days later, the police showed up to the home because of an anonymous tip from a neighbor. Between the lack of energy in the normally busy family and smell of decay, someone was bound to show up sooner or later.

Later that day, both officers handed in their letters of resignation because of the unfair horror they witnessed in the once pleasant town house.

The officers had knocked on the door, but gotten no response. They detected the smell as soon as they stepped onto the property, so naturally, they went in with force because no one answered the door. They door slammed open, and the officers lost bowel control and felt innate fear they learned to suppress long long ago in their careers. The little boy paid no attention to the officers as he slowly stuffed his mouth with the now mostly brown, but vaguely red and pink flesh and soft tissue strewn on the floor. At this point, not much was left on the floor, or in the bodies of his two parents, which he had started to consume.