Sleepless Nights Short Stories

Black goo

"Mom, I'm going to go take a bath," I shout heading to the beautifully furnished bathroom across from my bedroom.

I hear my moms angelic voice sweep through the unembellished halls of our new house as she shouts back "Okay!"

Stepping on the chilly, blood red tiles of the bathroom I take in a deep breath. Hopefully this bath will help me calm down after that huge fight I had with the weird new girl from school. All I need is a nice steamy bath to help let all my worries be washed away.

I turn the knob to start the bath. Slowly, I undress to let the tub fill with the warm, luxurious water. Once I'm fully naked, I slip into the bath, placing my hands over the edge of the tub and letting the warmth encase my body.

"Maybe a little nap will help," I sigh to myself, resting my head up against the side of the tub. I close my weary eyes and begin to clear my mind of drifting thoughts.

I'm startled awake to the feeling of large, rough hands gliding across my forehead. Before I can open my eyes, I feel the hands aggressively wrap around my neck, strangling me.

I try to scream out for help but they shove me under the water. Attempting to open my eyes I'm met with only pitch black. The water abruptly became an inky black, the texture gooey and slimy. I thrash as the goo slinkies its way down my throat, burning my mouth like acid as it goes down. I start to feel dizzy, struggling to free myself from the tub. It burns my throat horribly as I taste the vile, thick liquid in my mouth.

My chest burns as I continue to flail in the ooze. Eventually it spreads up to behind my eye sockets. I feel as if my entire body is engulfed in the flames of Hell. Just as I feel my last breath beginning to slip away, my body becomes chilled, like someone dropped me into a tub of ice. The hands free me from their torture and I pull myself out of the black, gelatine like goo as if resurrected from the dead. My hands fly to my throat as I cough up a mixture of blood and what looks like black jello.

Absolutely terrified, I scramble out of the bath like a frightened doe and grab my light pink towel from the rack. I lean over and puke up more of the black goo as my vision diminishes. Weakly falling to my hands and knees I lose all feeling in my limbs.

I hold the towel around me, horrified. I try to stand up on my shaky legs, using the marble counter as a crutch, but my legs shake harshly under my weight. Looking in the mirror I see two bruised hand prints left on my neck. I lift the tips of my fingers to them almost in awe. With a blank expression, I stare at myself in the mirror. What the fuck just happened? Turning towards the tub, I see the water is clear, as if it had never been touched. Was that a fucking dream?

I hold my towel closer to me in an attempt to feel more secure and safe. I take a much needed deep breath and scuttle over to my room. Walking over to my bed I sit down causing my phone to slide into my thigh.

Turning on the screen, I see four missed calls from Sammy and a text from her that read 

Sammy: Melly that crazy bitch is in my house, that creepy witch bitch! She's shouting some weird shit. Fuck! Help me. Melly please help me my parents aren't picking up!" 

I try to call her back but it just goes straight to voicemail. That's when I hear the police and ambulance sirens roaring down my street from me. Courious I ran to my window to see what was causing all the commotion. To my horror, they stop in front of Sammy's house.

Dropping my towel I dash over to my dresser, getting changed as fast as I can on trembling legs and quivering hands. Once I finish buttoning my pants, I run down the rickety wooden stairs to our front door where my mom and dad are already standing, cautiously watching.They turn around to see me barreling towards them.

"Whats going on?" I ask, out of breath, still recovering from almost drowning.

"We know as much as you do, sweetheart," My mom cooes.

I push past them and bolt outside towards Sammy's house. I knew she was home alone today, I even asked if she wanted me to come over. I ran across the street to see Mr. and Mrs. McNavey balling as two paramedics wheel a body bag out.

I hurry over to the couple who pull me into a warm embrace.

"What's going on?" I question pressed between them.

"We came home and Sammy was laying in the bathtub..." she stammers, trying to find the right words. "The paramedics said she's dead, but... that our little girl put up a struggle."

A couple days later I find out that Sammy had been strangled to death in her bathtub by some random man. The corner explained that the man had unusually large and rough hands that broke her neck easily after she had been drowned. 

Not only had the McNavey's been tramatized by the death of their daughter but have been plagued with all their water turning to black goo. 

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