The Children of Yig (Cthulhu Mythos)

4

As the months passed, Ira slowly adjusted to living alone. Still, he had trouble sleeping ever since the day his wife disappeared. One night as he tossed and turned, he heard a thump in the living room, like something falling to the floor. He cautiously went to see what had made the noise. The living room was dark, but he could make out the form of something large, lying on the floor. He flipped the light switch on, and immediately his stomach dropped, and he felt weak in the knees. Terror filled him as he saw, there on the floor next to the open window, the same loathsome snake that had bitten Hazel. It was the same pale white, the same bloated body, and the same silent rattle at the end of its tail. But, looking at the unnaturally flattened human-like head, his sanity almost abandoned him. For staring back at him was his wife, Hazel.

Though twisted and distorted, it was her face, he knew, especially when he gazed into the eyes of whatever she had become. He saw that her arms had fused to her sides, growing together with her torso and her legs as well had merged into one, becoming a tail. He was all at once shocked and disgusted to know his wife was now this grotesque creature. Ira gathered what was left of his wits and made up his mind to put her out of her misery; that unholy abomination did not belong in this world. He started to return to his bedroom to get his shotgun, when without warning, the creature struck, biting into his arm. By the time he cried out and cradled his injured arm, the thing was already retreating, pulling its bulk out of the open window and vanishing into the night.

He called Janice Counts, trying to tell her he had been bitten but found himself babbling on like a madman. She must have made out the gist of his ramblings because ten minutes later, she pulled her car into Ira's driveway and rushed inside. She looked the punctures over and told him exactly what he expected to hear, it was a non-venomous bite. He knew it was pointless to try to explain the unbelievable events of that night, so instead, he thanked her for coming over so late. After she left, we went into the bedroom, opened the closet, and stared at the shotgun leaning there against the wall. He did not want to become the same abnormal horror that his wife had become. He looked down at his hands and saw the color was already draining from them, and glanced back at the shotgun, knowing what he had to do.