Alison's Crush

Alison laced up her heavy boots, taking her time, tightening them with steady pulls. She checked the mirror, adjusted her ponytail, and settled her dark coat.

Time to go.

They met her down the street, outside the Miller house. A fog hung over the sprawling Ranch -- the shuttered windows, the grayed paint, the buckled roof -- leaving it out of focus.

Alison stopped abruptly, glaring. "Okay. What am I doing?"

The popular kids chuckled. She noticed Chad in back, tall and broad-shouldered, a slight smile on his lips as he watched her. I bet he's a good kisser.

"We want you to go in. No big deal. Get to the basement, touch bottom, and get out. That's it."

Her tongue betrayed her, dry and stuck to the roof of her mouth, so Alison said nothing. She tucked her jacket closed and moved forward with brisk steps.

The door, warped with decades of rain and snow, scraped as she pushed it open. Mold reeked from inside and dim furniture-sized lumps populated the family room. She could make out a sectional sofa in the shadows.

Each shuffling step was a triumph of nerve over instinct, her senses vigilant to any rustling, sneaking evil. Reaching the kitchen, Alison paused for bearing, consciously slowing her breath. Tiny clawed feet scurried through the cabinets, their staccato taps travelling around the kitchen.

Nothing. Just an old house.

The boards under her feet suddenly cracked and split, like black ice on a frozen pond. Alison froze, arms straight out to each side, feet set wide.

Ohhh, this isn't goo- "Oooph!"

The floorboards broke beneath her weight, her calves jabbed by broken, warped wood.

When was that tetanus shot?. She imagined rusty nails breaking her skin, infecting her with tetanus, botulism, rabies. Any number of potentially fatal diseases. She wriggled, trying to pull her left boot free, but instead crashed through, her shrieks swallowed by the house around her. A riot of mildew and heavy dust mushroomed up to the ceiling.

When the air settled, Alison was coated gray as the house. She coughed until she gagged, and then took inventory.

Splinters, a few scrapes. Nothing serious.

But she couldn't move. She'd sunk into the house right up to her back pockets. Stuck. She could dangle her feet, waving them in front of God knows what.

A mouse skittered out from the kitchen, raised up to sniff in her direction, then raced off to continue its nightly rounds.

"Well, crap."

Just then, Alison felt something brush against her legs under the main floor, near the ceiling of the basement. A low growl rumbled through the foundation. She jabbed with her feet, shoving at the floor with her hands, whimpering to herself as she scraped her way back up inch by inch, shards of wood sliding into her flesh through her jeans.

"Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit." Alison's voice teetered on frantic, the words both grounding her and leaving her feeling vulnerable in the dark. Splinters lodged deep in her thighs and hands as she continued to struggle.

The low-frequency vibrations quieted, and Alison held her breath as her legs pulled free from the broken, gaping hole in the floorboards. She scrambled to her knees, breathless, and gathered herself to rise and run out of the shambled house, when it happened again. This time, she not only felt it through the wood under her hands and feet, but she heard it underneath her. It's coming from the hole.

Panic flashed over her body, a cold thrill of terror that set her heart to jagged hammering. Tell-tale heart. Alison gasped, giddy, adrenaline racing through her. She caught her breath in her chest and leaned on her palms, peering down into the sinking dark. She pressed her lips together to stop them trembling. Silence. She heard nothing from inside or outside the house, except for the tree branches scraping against the ancient siding, a skipping record on a turntable.

Alison released her lungs with a whoosh and sat back on her heels, shaking the circulation back into her hands. Nothing. She turned to face the front door, still open from her entrance several minutes ago, and saw it.

The dark shape slouched into the room. Fetid breath wheezed from behind sharp teeth glistening in the snatches of moonlight. It chuckled, clicking its pointed teeth together.

So many teeth.

Eyes glowed red, and as it took the last few steps to its prey, greasy fur stood up around the reptilian scales on its neck and back. At the sound of its ravenous growl, Alison shut down, a wax doll. Her brain registered a yammering scream, that it was hers, as it grasped the sides of her head and bit into her face. She became agony and slick, wet intimacy with the creature ravaging her, losing all to a gibbering mania as her eyeballs burst in their sockets from the pressure. Incisors gouged into her delicate facial features, scraping flesh from bone. Its scabrous tongue slavering across her chin and into her screaming mouth, rank saliva pooling in the delicate hollows of her collar bones.

The beast dragged her dripping body over its shoulder and lurched down the basement steps, carrying its prize into the sulfurous deep.

# # #

Outside, the teenagers dispersed after several minutes. None of the challengers had ever gone through with it before, all chickening out and sneaking home. Just like this time.

Chad stood alone in the street, watching the house. He huddled against the night wind, hands in his pockets. In his left hand, he stroked a smooth stone carved with the likeness of the Alu Demon. The rune glowed, dark power coursing from the stone through his body, and he smiled.