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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1042174-Late-Night-Snack
Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #1042174
David becomes engrossed in an old horror movie...
          "No-- you go in the kitchen, I cooked dinner!"

          "I'm already comfortable. Besides, I've been working all day!" David said, pulling the blankets snug around his chin.

          His girlfriend Jen glared down at him, her hands digging into her hips, foot tapping impatiently. Small rays of light bounced around the dark room from a small television perched on the dresser. Mountainous heaps of clothes littered the floor. David lay stretched across the bed, lost in the vast depths of the warm blankets.

          "Get up, you lazy bastard!" Jen yelled.

          "Jen, I'm not going in there. If you want something to eat, get it yourself." David rolled over, ignoring Jen's protests.

         She finally gave up and stormed into the kitchen, slamming the bedroom door as she left. David shook his head. Every night was like this. Jen's loud cursing emanated from the kitchen, making David turn the volume up. Enticing smells of grilled cheese wafted into the dark bedroom. David muted the television and sat up. "Oh-- and fix me something while you're in there!" he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth and pushing the volume button.

          The channels flew by quickly as David searched for something to ease his boredom.

          "Infomercials... great."
          He flicked through the channels, finally coming to rest on an old horror movie. He smiled, horror movies were his favorite. Nothing made him happier than a good scare, and this one looked good.

          "And now back to 'Late Night Snack,' here on 'The Movie Network.'"

          The camera zoomed in on an old Victorian looking house, obviously in need of repair. Even though the movie was in black and white, he still watched, intrigued by the grainy quality of the film. David watched as the next scene showed a pale looking family seated around a lavish table. The father, an oversized
dark-haired man with deep, probing eyes raised his hand and motioned. A short, stocky butler appeared carrying a covered dish. He sat it down on the table with a loud clatter before shuffling off into the shadows. The two creepy looking children banged their forks against the table as their mother lifted the silver lid. Lying glazed on the thin platter was a human head, stuffed with a juicy apple.

          David grimaced. He had a weak stomach, but kept watching anyway as the demented family dug into their cannibalistic dinner. An eerie feeling overwhelmed him as he lay there in the suffocating darkness. His mouth hung open, entranced by the scene of gory macabre unfolding before him.

          The screen flickered. Lines of static darted across the picture, hissing with snow.

          David groaned, reaching onto the cluttered floor. He found a shoe and hurled it at the malfunctioning TV. Instead of smacking against the glimmering box, the shoe soared through the air, dissolving into the jumbled screen. The picture returned; the shoe landing comfortably by the gourmet head sitting on the movie family's table. David gasped as his heart lurched into his stomach.

          He sat up. "Jen--"

          "Get it yourself!"

          David shifted onto his hands, staring in disbelief at the screen. The man at the head of the table seemed confused too. He looked over the shoe with a careful eye, picking it up and turning it over in his large paws. The rest of the table sat in silence as David gazed at them.

          Slowly, they all twisted their heads and peered into David's wide eyes. Every nerve in his body grew numb with fear as the tall man rose to his feet, towering over the table like a tree. He made quick strides across the floor toward the screen, his long arms swinging by his side. With a horrible grin, the tall man lifted his foot and pressed against the inside of the television, stretching it outward. The edges of his shoe brimmed forth, poking out into David's bedroom and descending until it reached the floor.

          There he was, standing nearly eight feet tall in David's tiny bedroom. A wicked hate played in his disturbed eyes, haunting David's soul. The twisted grin on his face curled upward, revealing rust colored teeth. David leapt to his feet, dashing for the door. The man took one step across the puny room and threw out his hand, icy fingers locking down on David's trembling neck. His body thrashed wildly, trying to slip free. He tried to breathe but couldn't. The pressure of the man's fingers threatened to choke the life from him as he was dragged across the room. David dug his toes into the ground. Tiny black spots flashed in front of him. His head rushed from the lack of oxygen, weakness overpowering him. As he began to lose consciousness, he forced his lips apart.

          "J-Jen..." he gasped, clawing desperately at the man's deadly grip as he was lifted into the air. His eyes felt like they were going to pop out of his head, his mind racing as the tall man dug his talons deep into his throat, puncturing the skin and letting loose a torrent of blood. David thrashed wildly, resisting the magnitude of the man's strength as he pushed him toward the glowing box sitting atop the dresser.

          A strange feeling washed over him as he looked up. The television screen was only inches away from his nose. Delighted shrieks stirred from the children along with clattering silverware. His life slowly seeped from every pore, darkness closing in on him as he was thrust forward.

*                                                            *                                                            *
          Jen pounded her way into the bedroom holding two steaming plates filled with grilled cheese sandwiches.

          "See if I ever cook for you again..." she muttered, pushing her way into the dark bedroom.

          Jumping shadows danced wickedly on the empty bed, stabbing at the darkness like knives.

          "He must be in the bathroom," she decided, plopping down on the bed and swooping up the remote. "How does he watch this stuff?"

         Jen shook her head in disgust at the horrible black and white family as they dug their forks into a mangled corpse. She closed her eyes, turned her head and took a bite of a grilled cheese sandwich, hearing the horrible splintering of bones being harvested for their marrow.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1042174-Late-Night-Snack