Monsters in the Light

Entry

Finn sighed. He gripped the key in his hand as he gazed at the cloud of dust the silver Porsche of the real estate agent left behind. Turning back to face the house, Finn dropped the key into his pocket and ran a crooked hand through his wig, itching the scalp underneath. The house before him stared back. Finn blinked, weighted eyelids sloughing the dust out of his eyes. He shuffled to the dusty pickup waiting in front of the house in the late summer sun and began unloading the few boxes he brought with him. One by one, he hefted them onto the porch, floorboards creaking with each shambling step, the house watching his long, wiry frame stop to catch his breath between each trip. The dry weeds and grass that sprang up around the house crunched as Finn shuffled through them. The trees standing guard around the house and beyond for miles shuffled and shushed each other. Besides the plant life shivering with the wind, Finn's ragged breathing and crackling joints were the only sounds to be heard. Straightening, Finn stopped on the porch and gazed out into the woods, down the dirt road he came from. He palmed the rusted key in his pocket, then lurched over to the front door, running his clouded eyes over the cracks and weathering that infested the house. Sliding the key into the red lock of the door handle, Finn felt something blocking the key from entering the lock fully. Attempting to force the key fully into the lock resulted in a wet crunch. He jerked the key out to find green goo and black specks slimed on to the end of it. The key clanked on the floorboards, the remains of the cockroach splattering with it. Squinting into the keyhole, Finn discovered a similar mess inside. He shuddered. The house watched as Finn circled it, searching for an alternate entry. Finding an open window that was not boarded up, Finn clambered inside, his feet sending a cloud of dust into the air upon contact with the floor.

Finn's eyes watered slightly as he scanned the open space for the source of the foul blast of rank air attacking his nostrils. A large fridge stood directly opposite of him. The open door revealed a plethora of rotten food, crawling with roaches and maggots, the very shelves seeming to writhe with pests. Finn gagged, his face threatening to tear at the corners of the mouth. He staggered to the open refrigerator door and kicked it shut, sending a few roaches scuttling for cover under the cabinets. The house watched as Finn began tearing boards off windows, the wretched stench wafting outside. The boards came off the walls easily, the nails passing right through the soft rotting wood.

Finn heaved the boards to the window he came through and dropped them out, then turned to open the front door. The lock, turned red from rust, reminded Finn of an old butler, standing at the door, waiting patiently for a visitor to knock. Finn fumbled with it. It didn't take long for the whole thing to pop off the door. Finn stumbled backwards, the handle resting heavy in his hand. He looked down, feeling the weight of it as if he had broken a promise to the house itself. The house watched as Finn tossed it onto the counter. He shoved the door open, the hinges groaning in protest. Finn let it hang ajar, leaning heavily against the doorframe, breathing in the fresh outside air. The parcels on the porch peered at him, waiting to be brought inside. Finn exhaled, then went back inside.

He looked around the space, now that he could see without blinking away tears every two seconds. To his left was a small living area. A chair and a couch, both stained and threadbare, slumped on the middle, facing the wall opposite the door. A clean space where a TV may have sat on the wall stood out from the rest of the off white cracked plaster surrounding it. Finn turned to his right, the kitchen. Countertops lined the wall, only interrupted by a stove, sink, and the refrigerator. Cabinets jutted out over the stove. Straight ahead of Finn lay a staircase going to the second floor.

He shambled forwards to the stairs, legs jerking one after the other, dragging their body up past peeling yellow wallpaper and slightly cleaner rectangles stained into the wall, memories of a past life that no longer mattered enough to stay. The walls themselves, upon closer inspection, had small dimples reminiscent of human pores. As Finn climbed, the stench from the kitchen faded, the air becoming more musty than rank. At the top, he paused to lean on the rail and catch his breath.

A small skylight filled with insects and rainwater did its best to light the short hallway. The same peeling wallpaper stretched across the walls. Two doors faced each other halfway down the hall. At the end, a slim door hung open, revealing moth-torn sheets and blankets stuffed haphazardly onto small shelves. Finn flicked the light switch near his left hand. The bulb at the end of the hall fizzled to life, sputtered, then popped, sending small shards of glass and filament onto the warped hardwood floor. Finn flinched at the suddenness of the noise. He stepped forward, kicking the small glass shards to the baseboards. Pivoting to the left, Finn crossed the threshold to the room. An empty bed frame sat in the center of the far wall, rusted red. A large wardrobe stood on the right wall. To the left stood another door. Pushing it open revealed a dirty bathroom, complete with a cracked porcelain toilet, claw foot bathtub, and a sink. No mirror. Finn glanced at the light fixture in the ceiling, then turns away from the room to the door across the hall.

The house watched as Finn struggled with the handle, jerking the knob until it grinded into place. The house watched as Finn shuffled into the room, wiping his hands on his pants. The house watched as he glanced around the mostly empty space. The house watched as Finn turned and stood in front of the large, shattered mirror.

Finn squinted.

A monster sat within the cold cage, eyes burning with emptiness, a false lie of a human face hiding the true nature of the tortured mind behind it, scalp sloughing off the sunken skull, ragged bits of cloth draped across its withering frame in an attempt to cover the scars that had etched a story of pain and suffering into its soul. The house watched as Finn dashed forward, hastily tearing off his jacket and draping it over the mirror, covering all of the uninjured shards, eyes kept carefully away from the resident within. He stepped back, hands shaking, searching frantically for any uncovered pieces that would allow the creature to escape. Finding none, Finn closed his eyes and began to tap his fingers against each other, first thumbs, then indexes, then middle fingers, ring fingers, pinkies, but wiggle the extra two, clap twice, snap twice, crack both wrists, right then left, left then right, right then left, left then right, repeat until safe. Finn's breathing slowed as he performed this ritual, hands slowing their erratic dance, heart resuming its normal skip. He opened his eyes, blinking slowly in the dim light. He took a deep breath. The same dingy room surrounded him. The monster nowhere in sight. Finn sighed. He stood shakily, knees nearly knocking against each other. The house watched as Finn stumbled out of the room, downstairs to the front door, and began bringing his boxes inside.