Horror Stories for Halloween

Insatiable Appetite

This is very vaguely inspired by IT! 

"Your house is pretty big," Sylvia called gently from the living room, "you really live here all alone?"

Freddie entered with the two wine glasses in his hands, taking a seat next to Sylvia on the couch. He handed her the drink, chuckling nervously. "Yep! Just me." Freddie had to hold his glass with two hands to control his shaking. He couldn't panic. Not now.

Sylvia thanked him, sniffing the drink before taking a sip. She peered over her glass at Freddie. His fluffy curls and chocolate eyes were so endearing to her. Freddie smiled at her, scooting closer, making a splash of his drink fall onto Sylvia's shirt. She gasped with a laugh. Freddie frantically apologized, placing his drink on the side table. Sylvia didn't mind, she thought his apologizing was cute. "It's okay, Freddie. This shirt could use some character anyway."

"I'm so sorry. Please, let me put it in the wash and I'll give you one of mine until it's clean," Freddie offered, hoping, praying that she would decline. If she didn't, they'd have to go into the basement.

Sylvia found the offer very kind and accepted it. "Sure! That's really sweet of you to offer." She stood up with him, knocking his shoulder with hers playfully.

Freddie smiled anxiously. "Of course. It's my fault your shirt is dirty. Come on, my washer is in the basement," he stammered. Sylvia noted how clumsy and flustered Freddie was. It was odd for him to act this way, yet she still found it charming. The two were slowly growing closer and closer since their first meeting in an alcoholics support group. When the two first met, Sylvia told herself she wouldn't let their relationship evolve to anything beyond friendship, but she was quickly falling for Freddie's awkward charm. It didn't make sense how someone could be awkward yet charming, but Freddie was different than anyone she knew. 

Freddie leads the way, opening the basement door with a creak. A warm scent drifted up the dreary, unlit staircase. The two started down the steps, the old wood groaning beneath their feet. Freddie reached behind Sylvia, shutting the door after her. His hot, sweet breath shuddered against her cheeks as the door closed with a click! They looked at each other's silhouettes in the dark. "Sorry, my cat stays down here. Don't want her getting out."

"Yeah, of course." Sylvia smiled comfortingly, trying to soothe whatever was itching at the back of his brain. Freddie felt like he was going to throw up as they descended the staircase with Sylvia's warm hand resting on his shoulder.

"Mmmm, what's that smell? Did you start cooking dinner already. . . ?" Sylvia asked, quietly. Freddie didn't respond, his breathing heavy as he reached for the light switch behind her. Dingy light filled the room, allowing Sylvia to look around. Her eyes landed on a dining table in the center of the room. Sylvia was confused. Next to it was an oven, sink, and countertop. He had an entire kitchen in his basement. The aroma of hot food she had smelt when descending the staircase was now blended with something else. It almost smelled sour and sweet. The sticky air left a tangy taste in her throat. Sylvia yelped, grabbing onto Freddie as she noticed a broad, towering woman standing to the far left of the oven, chopping something on a cutting board. "F-Freddie? Who is that?" she whispered, scared the woman would hear her.

The woman put down her knife and turned around to Freddie with a smile, not acknowledging Sylvia. She felt Freddie shaking under her touch. "Freddie-bear," she said in a sickly-sweet voice, "did you remember to lock the door?"

Sylvia quickly let go of him. It felt like someone had shoveled a bunch of rocks down her throat, weighing down her stomach and pulling her to the floor. Freddie gulped, hanging his head in shame "Sorry, Mommy." Quickly, he ran back up the steps to lock the door behind him. The women turned back to the counter, slipping on a pair of oven mitts.