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Rated: E · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2223227
A 9-year-old boy's fate will be decided! (Repost from 10 years ago or so.)
         Little nine-year-old Mikey stood in his bedroom after dark. He was rummaging through his closet wearing only his underwear, his bubble-butt stretching the nearly threadbare material of his tighty-whities. His young muscles flexed and writhed as he lifted and moved boxes. The boy was searching for what he thought would be the perfect Hallowe'en costume for his night of Trick-or-Treating. He grunted as he hefted a particularly heavy box of toys, and then dropped it to the floor with a loud thud. Looking back inside, he grinned a toothy grin as he found the box he had been looking for.

         Outside his window, the creature stared at him with an insatiable hunger, its many eyes glowing. Salivating, it began to twitch as though barely able to contain its excitement. It could almost see the boy's heart beating within his chest. Good boy! Tasty boy! it thought. I will dine well this night. It stared malevolently at the boy as it planned its attack.

         The creature searched around the window for a way in, an opening of some kind. Keeping out of sight, it spied a crack in the wood of the window frame, which prevented it from closing all the way. The creature's maw stretched in an evil parody of a smile as it reached for the gap, and it began to compress and elongate its body. Coming for you, my boy! It thought. Once it was through and inside the boy's room, it waited silently. It backed itself into the corner, unseen, awaiting the perfect moment to attack.

         "Hurry up, Mikey! They're going to be here any minute!" His mother called to him, rapping on his bedroom door.

         The creature flinched and looked furtively at the door, toward the source of the woman's voice. It's many eyes staring, unblinking.

         Mikey paused pulling his shirt on. "I'm almost ready, Mom," he answered. "Five more minutes."

         The creature turned back to little Mikey, his arms still bare, his neck exposed, and still without pants. I must feed! It crouched and ducked under the boy's bed, emerging from under the foot moments later. It was closer to its target. Venomous saliva dripped from its maw as it watched its prey.

         Mikey turned toward the box, bent and grabbed the trousers, pulling them free from under the mask. Shaking them out, he bent to pull them on, balancing on one foot. He hopped around a few times, then sat down on a chair to pull the loose-fitting trousers up his legs.

         The creature lunged, sinking its maw into the fleshy buttocks of the boy. It held him in a death-grip as it began to feed. Sweet warm blood flowed down the creature's throat, filling it with a warmth that it always enjoyed. The salty tinge only fueled it's hunger. Mmmm! Tasty boy! My children will enjoy this, it thought while it ripped through the boy's flesh.

         Little Mikey yelped and swatted at his hip. Looking at his hand, he found the crumpled form of a broken mosquito, surrounded by a small amount of his own blood. "Darn skeeters," he complained.

         Gotcha. heh
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