Not Your Usual Scary Stories

There's Something In My Living Room

There's something in my living room.

I'm watching it right now. Even in the dim light coming from the streetlamp outside my window, it was obvious the moment I opened the door.

How could I miss it? It's huge. Easily the size of a brown bear.

But this is no bear. The light beams glimmer and reflects off of its surface. That doesn't happen with fur. Its skin is hard, but how can something this large have an exoskeleton? Thank god it isn't facing this way.

It's eating something. I don't think it has noticed me yet, caught up in its meal. I push onto my tiptoes and look at what it's tearing into. It appears to be a doe.

It thrusts its head down into the meaty body over and over. The sounds of flesh ripping and teeth mashing gently fill my ears. With each shake of its head, I can see something silhouetted in the light. Long, thin strands run from the creatures face and dangle freely. At first, I think tentacles, but they seem more like catfish whiskers.

As my eyes begin to adjust, I can make out the form before me more clearly. The hardened skin is composed of chitinous plates that glisten in the light. They almost look crustacean, like a lobster shell.

When it bends down to take another bite, it almost rolls into a ball. I'm reminded of a pillbug. The plated armor stretches to uniform sections when it bends. I wonder if it can roll fully into a ball like an armadillo?

I don't see any arms or legs. That is concerning. It's possible that it's sitting on them somehow, but I try not to think about that. It's already a good four feet tall. How big will it be if it can stand up?

Based on the girth of the body, I'd guess that it's got a couple hundred pounds on me. Of course, I have no way of knowing the density of monster, pound for pound. Still, I can imagine facing it directly would feel more like a grizzly bear than a boxing match.

I close my door slowly, placing a hand against it and walking the door gently as to not make a sound. Once I'm sure that the tiny click of the doorknob wasn't heard, I turn around and take a deep breath.

I should be freaking out. I should be questioning my sanity. But, oddly, those aren't the emotions that take me. I feel calm, focused. Not even the pounding heart in my throat distracts me.

What can I do? That's the first question. Address the issue of my own safety before anything else. Is it going to attack me, or is it just here in random passing?

It's sitting right in between me and the front door. Even if I can get past it, I'll be seen for sure. Assuming it even has eyes.

I'm too high up to go out a window. There are no other exits.

This is bad.

Hiding in my room seems like the right option. Maybe it doesn't even know I'm here. But then, why is it here? I've seen too many horror movies to believe that it will leave me alone.

I crack the door open and peek out once more.

The deer is now in two pieces, chewed entirely through the center. I'd expected blood to be soaking into my pristine white shag carpet, but I don't see any. In fact, there's no debris at all. Whatever it is, it's eating every last part, even the bones.

That's a bad sign. A monster that appears randomly in living rooms and leaves no trace of its victim? That doesn't sound like a monster that will let me go willingly.

I close the door once more and scan my room. There's got to be something I can use or some way to escape. I search my brain for ideas, but I don't have enough bedsheets to make it down to the street. Eventually, my eyes fall upon an object in the corner and I realize my only chance.