Time: 9:20 AM
Date: 10/17/20
Location: Los Angeles
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My eyes fly open as I'm startled out of a deep sleep by the sound of heavy pounding on my bedroom door accompanied by hellish howls and heavy, watery breathing.
"JESS," I scream, " CUT IT OUT!"
The response to my shout is just another round of horrible screeches, and an even fiercer set of pounds. The white, wooden door splinters the slightest, causing my heart to drop. I need to get the hell out of here. The thing behind the door stops for the slightest second, catching it's breath, and then continues to bash at the only thing blocking it from me.
Searching around, the only other escape choice is my second story window, but I'm not about to kill my self. I know if I jump out I'll just break my legs, which means the monster behind my door can catch up to me easily. Yeah, no. Would rather not.
Looking to my left, my closet dominates my inside facing wall, which would make for a good hiding spot if not for it only being divided by purple and pink curtains.
My only options are either: face the monster or hide under my bed.
I think the latter one would be better, so I slowly make my way off of my bed and down onto the ground. Just as I take a single step off of my bed, the door's tiny split cracks into a million different sporadic lines, indicating my door will not hold for any longer. The crawl space under my bed is Barely big enough to fit my figure, so if it finds me I'm screwed. Big time.
Just as I move some boxes around to block me from the door, I hear it shatter into a thousand pieces and heavy, pissed off thumps of footsteps enter my room. It stops, sniffs the air, and lets out another ear piercing screech.
Oh... Oh no no no...
Getting a good look at the legs of the monster's legs, I notice something that brings heavy tears streaming down my cheeks: my mother's butterfly tattoo. Her and my dad both got them when they went to Australia for a weekend vacation.
If she's the monster, where is dad? I shove the boxes away ever so carefully, hoping to god she doesn't hear the small sounds of the box shifting. Beginning to push my self out of the crawl space and try to make a run for it, I stop short and silently scream as another figure appears in the door way; disfigured and clutching a doll head in one hand. His face is almost completely unrecognizable except for one key feature: his eyes are still the exact same color of my father's.
YOU ARE READING
Kure
Science FictionWhat if you wake up to your parents hellbent on eating your flesh? If you somehow survived your encounter with your now-zombified parents, you'd go outside to scream for help. But you don't, because a deafening sound pierces the air. You turn to se...
