Page 4

As I stand up the object quickly wraps over the frame and runs up the wall.  It’s a growing vine that looks like it’s made of condensed smoke.  As I step away, my back hits the window and the shade shoots up to the ceiling.  I look outside, everything looks normal; the dark gray pavement in the street, the properly cultivated lawns, the dead leaves in piles in front of the boring houses.  My front lawn extends out fifty feet from the house to where it meets with the street.  I look at a puddle that’s close to where the corner of the property meets the street because it’s inexplicably bubbling.

I turn my head to look at the closet door and see that more of the vines have sprouted; they’re spreading over the walls and the floor and crossing over each other, growing thicker and making the door splinter.  I turn back to look at the bubbling puddle outside that is no more than two feet across and two spidery hands come out, pressing down on the surrounding mud and bringing a long, thin, black body out.  The head of it is shaking back and forth violently, so much so that I can’t make out any of the features.

I feel something run over my feet and look down; the vines are engulfing the room.  I jump over them and throw open the door.  Blood is pouring out beneath the door of the bathroom, as little bits of flesh and organ tissue appear to be getting forced out as well.  The port wine colored fluid is soaked in the carpet and running down the length and breadth of the steps like a cascading waterfall.  I look at the door to my brother’s room and it is thumping against the frame, shaking, bulging.  I run down the steps and grab the handle of the front door, it quickly pops off with a fleshy rip and explodes with white fluid.  Looking into my hand, it appears that the handle was an eye the size of a tennis ball.

I stand up gagging, close my eyes and vomit into the collecting blood at the bottom of the steps, that’s when I notice how cold it is.  The inside of my mouth now feels like I’m chewing on charcoal, I hear hundreds of voices whispering collectively in the distance.  “STOP!  STOP!  SOMEBODY HELP ME!”  I open my eyes and look up; I’m in some horrible variation of my house.  Everything is blurred because of a dirty reddish light, which has no apparent source.  There still manages to be shadow along corners and around the love seat, the fireplace, and the bookcase.  The vines that were in my room are all over the walls and appear to be pumping a sort of blackish blood, like my house is actually alive.

The light makes my head burn, and every few seconds the redness becomes clear enough for me to see the vines all over the walls, pumping.  Is the house on fire?  Is it so hot in here that it feels like I’m frozen?  It smells like there’s a fire, but I can’t clearly see, hear, or feel anything.  I stagger over to where the other door is, my body freezing, my mind on fire; it’s only thirty feet to get there, I can make it.  Then I feel magnetically drawn to the basement door that’s beneath the steps that lead upstairs, my legs are moving me there.  “NO!  STOP!  STOP!”  It’s like I’m trying to run at the bottom of a pool.

I wrap my hand around the doorknob as my house begins falling apart around me, and when the door opens all the sounds drown out and my nose begins to feel clogged.  The red light is licking around the doorframe like fire, but it’s as if the vines, or veins, are afraid of the basement.  I look down, I can’t see the steps, only a faint black outline of the ceiling descending down to darkness and what looks like trillions of squirmy black sea animals crawling all over each other.  Through the darkness I can only perceive movement, not form.

I feel like I’m being sucked down, but I still manage to hold on to the doorframe.  I open my mouth to scream again, all the air gets sucked out of my lungs and I can’t breathe.  Something wraps around my arms and legs and pulls, and in a split second I feel two things: The frame of the door breaking in my hands and my head instantaneously making contact with what must be one of the steps.

I wake up underwater and sit up quickly, coughing up liquid.  I can’t really see yet, but my head hurts.  It’s dark, and I feel pieces of dirt and debris beneath me.  Is this my basement?  I look up at the ceiling and let my eyes adjust to the small amount of light.  There is a dark light fixture in the ceiling and a crack from wall to wall.  Wherever I am, it’s in disrepair.  I can’t see anything on either side of my head except a dull porcelain shade of white.  I’m in a bathtub.

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