My Brother's Not Coming Home

February 28

Over the past few weeks, I haven't spoken much.  Henry's death really taught me that words are important, and should be used carefully because you never know how long you really have left with a person.  

Today I finally feel up to leaving the house.  It's been a month since the incident, and everyone finally feels safe letting their kids and pets outside.  I'm still afraid of the creature, but Cookie needs a walk.  She hasn't been walked since the day of the incident and everyday after dinner, she sits by her leash, staring pitifully at the wall, as if wondering why she can't go outside anymore.  

My parents haven't payed much attention to me since it happened.  Not that I really mind, I'd rather just be alone with my thoughts.  Right now my mom has taken an entire bottle of wine into the bath.  A mixture of her hiccups and sobs rings throughout the house.  My dad has dedicated the next half hour of his life to cleaning the inside and outside of all our windows.  Not that they need cleaning, he did the same thing two nights ago.  

I stand behind my father, hearing Alice Cooper blare through his earbuds.  Knowing full well he can't hear me, I simply say, "I'm going to walk the dog."  When I receive no response, I turn around and go.  I don't bother grabbing a coat; maybe the cold air will feel nice.  I slip Cookie's coat on her, then her leash.  Taking a deep breath, I step into the night.

As I head down the sidewalk, towards the road, I start thinking about how my life is supposed to go back to the way it was before.  My student handbook states that in the instance of the death of an immediate family member, a student is aloud one month of excused absences. Damn, the school seems to have a policy for just about everything.  I chuckle to myself, wondering, "if I died, would it be an excused absence or would I be expected to fail?  Maybe I'd have to get a doctor's note upon returning."  

My mind begins to quiet down and I start to take notice of my surroundings.  My nightly walks with Henry always made me relaxed.  The calm, peacefulness of the world going to sleep, and the smell of the night air was my oasis from the everyday struggles of life.  However, tonight feels very different.  I shrug it off, convincing myself that this off-putting feeling is because it doesn't feel right to be out here without Henry.  

The wind howls, covering me in goose-bumps, making me wish I'd brought a coat.  As the street-lamps flickered, a wave of regret floods over me, making me wish I'd never even left my house.  I push on, determined to complete the walk, but as we get closer and closer to the forest Cookie starts to shudder.  Convincing myself that this is all for Cookie's benefit, I decide to head home.  As we turn around, the wind dies down and an eerie calm washes over the neighborhood instantaneously.  All I can hear is the subtle ringing of wind chimes a few houses down.  The wind has stopped.  What's making those wind chimes ring?  I walk faster.  I'm only a street down from my house now.  I wonder if the creature that took my brother decided it wants another snack.  I walk even faster.  My house is only a block away now.  Clutching Cookie's leash so tightly I'm sure I'll have marks, I break into a sprint.  If I can only make it to my house I'll be okay.  Closer.  Now I run up the sidewalk to my front door.  I hastily fumble my keys, desperately trying to get the door open.  "Come on, come on, come on."  I whisper anxiously to myself.   The key turns and I'm in the clear.  I shut the door quickly behind me leaning against it, Cookie and I panting.

The lights are all off.  My dad must have gone to bed early.  I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time.  10:32.  But that's impossible.  I left at 8... for a 20 minute walk... that I cut short because I was scared.  I shrug it off.  At least I'm home and safe.  

I flip on the light switches crouching down to undo Cookie's leash, when I catch an image from the living room.  There's someone sitting on the couch wearing, what looks like, my brother's baseball cap.  "Henry?"  I ask towards the figure.  The figure begins to rise off the couch.  My heart pounds out of my chest.  Maybe my brother survived after all.  But as I gaze upon the figure, I see pieces of decaying flesh hanging off it's body.  It's the creature.  It turns around, and I get a good look for the first time at the face that destroyed my brother.  It is completely hairless and what was left of its skin is as black as a void.  Wrinkles cover its face in  an inhumanly way.  It smiles a ghostly smile.  Its pointed teeth are completely visible, because it has no lips.  My stomach churns as my eyes meet its eyes.  They're same shade of black as its skin except the speck in the center that was red before now perfectly resembles my brother's eyes.  The same warm, rich shade of brown I see everyday in the mirror are displayed on the face of a demon.  My breath catches in my throat as it starts to speak.  Its voice sounds ancient and raspy.  It's the kind of voice that makes you want to crawl out of your skin and hide.  "Your brother's not coming home, Hannah." It spoke before slinking out of an open window in the kitchen.