A Short Horror Story (Which is Untitled...As You Most Likely Guessed)
When Samantha woke up that morning, she knew something was dreadfully wrong. There was something in the air that just didn't seem to fit, and as she slid out from under the covers she felt a chill run up her spine that had nothing at all to do with the chill in the air. Unable to see anything out of order in the bedroom, she shook her head as she stepped into the bathroom to take her daily shower. Perhaps she had just had a bad nightmare overnight and though she couldn't remember it it was still haunting her subconscious. She undressed and stepped into the warm water, hoping it would wash all of her fears away. But to her dismay, it seemed the hotter the water got the more paranoid she became, until finally she decided that showering was going to do her more harm than whatever had caused her panic in the bedroom. Toweling off, she dressed and sprinted down the stairs into the kitchen, hoping to find some comfort in a bowl of cereal, some TV, and her black lab Raven.
Plopping down onto the couch, she whistled for her faithful canine companion, hoping that the dog's mere presence would help to quell her building fears. She heard nails click on the floor, and realized that she really needed to cut the poor dear's nails, because they sounded extremely long and painful. She saw a head round the corner of the couch and shrieked at what she saw. It was her dog, all right, but overnight the canine seemed to have lost most of its substance, as what she saw at the end of the bed was definitely not alive, and for all intents and purposes should not have been moving. Tattered bits of skin with some remnants of black fur clung haphazardly to the skeleton that gazed at Samantha from the end of the couch. It sounded as though it was panting, though it had no tongue to facilitate this noise. If it had had still had eyes, it would have looked at her concernedly. Samantha jumped from the couch and rubbed her eyes, hoping that this horrible nightmare would disappear, but when she opened them again it was still there, walking patiently towards her as though unaware that it looked like it had become the remains of a vulture's meal. Turning rapidly, Samantha ran out the front door and toward the road. But what she saw made her stop dead in her tracks.
Everyone in the cars driving by her house had the same look as her dog had, as if they had fasted for too long and effectively whittled themselves down to nothing. Her mouth dropped open and try as she might she could not will her legs to move. She didn't have any idea where she would have run to, anyway. Everywhere she turned, she saw skeletons walking in the daylight - squirrels, dogs, cats, humans. She seemed to be the only one who had not been affected. As she was standing on the sidewalk gaping horrified at this spectacle one of the cars slowed in front of her, and the driver leaned his mottled skull out of the window, saying "You better go inside, young lady. Sunlight only speeds the process up." Samantha backed away slowly as the car pulled away, simultaneously grateful that at least these skeleton beings weren't evil and horrified at what the man - or what she thought had been a man - said. Reaching the front door once more, she slammed it closed and leaned back against it, hoping against hope that she was dreaming.
After a few minutes she felt a strange sensation at the tip of her fingers - a burning sort of itch. Though she didn't want to look, her eyes seemed to have minds of their own as they looked down and saw the skin turning gray and beginning to peel back, shriveling up like burning paper. The same feeling came over her toes and at the base of her neck, and she shrieked, shaking her hands as though it would stop this rapid decay. Every time she moved, however, large pieces of skin fell to the floor, continuing to shrivel until they were ashes, slipping out of sight through the seams in the wood floor. Unable to run and unable to stop the horrible burning feeling, Samantha once again ran for the shower, hoping that it would alleviate some of the pain. As soon as she hopped in and turned on the water, however, she saw larger and larger bits of her skin wash away, spotted a couple fingernails, some hair. She felt a pulsing in her skull and grabbed with her now skeletal hands at her temples until - plop plop - both eyeballs rolled out of their sockets and fell lazily to the ceramic. She screamed once again, as she could feel various organs drop from her as soon as the skin was too weak to hold. She reached toward the shower and turned it off, waiting until she no longer felt any burning.
Somehow after the whole ordeal she knew she was still alive. Sure, there wasn't much living material left on her bones, but she could still move, somehow. Her fear had vanished along with her substance, and she seemed to be liberated from the need to sleep, eat, or do virtually any other task. She stepped out of the shower, unable to see but knowing her house from memory (how is that even possible when you don't have a brain? She didn't know. Then, of course, she didn't know how she was thinking that, either.) Walking down the stairs she once again heard Raven trotting towards her. She reached up he bony hand to pet the dog's backbone and, testing her voice which shouldn't be there, said, "Well Raven, I know one thing for sure. I'm not going to miss showers."
Plopping down onto the couch, she whistled for her faithful canine companion, hoping that the dog's mere presence would help to quell her building fears. She heard nails click on the floor, and realized that she really needed to cut the poor dear's nails, because they sounded extremely long and painful. She saw a head round the corner of the couch and shrieked at what she saw. It was her dog, all right, but overnight the canine seemed to have lost most of its substance, as what she saw at the end of the bed was definitely not alive, and for all intents and purposes should not have been moving. Tattered bits of skin with some remnants of black fur clung haphazardly to the skeleton that gazed at Samantha from the end of the couch. It sounded as though it was panting, though it had no tongue to facilitate this noise. If it had had still had eyes, it would have looked at her concernedly. Samantha jumped from the couch and rubbed her eyes, hoping that this horrible nightmare would disappear, but when she opened them again it was still there, walking patiently towards her as though unaware that it looked like it had become the remains of a vulture's meal. Turning rapidly, Samantha ran out the front door and toward the road. But what she saw made her stop dead in her tracks.
Everyone in the cars driving by her house had the same look as her dog had, as if they had fasted for too long and effectively whittled themselves down to nothing. Her mouth dropped open and try as she might she could not will her legs to move. She didn't have any idea where she would have run to, anyway. Everywhere she turned, she saw skeletons walking in the daylight - squirrels, dogs, cats, humans. She seemed to be the only one who had not been affected. As she was standing on the sidewalk gaping horrified at this spectacle one of the cars slowed in front of her, and the driver leaned his mottled skull out of the window, saying "You better go inside, young lady. Sunlight only speeds the process up." Samantha backed away slowly as the car pulled away, simultaneously grateful that at least these skeleton beings weren't evil and horrified at what the man - or what she thought had been a man - said. Reaching the front door once more, she slammed it closed and leaned back against it, hoping against hope that she was dreaming.
After a few minutes she felt a strange sensation at the tip of her fingers - a burning sort of itch. Though she didn't want to look, her eyes seemed to have minds of their own as they looked down and saw the skin turning gray and beginning to peel back, shriveling up like burning paper. The same feeling came over her toes and at the base of her neck, and she shrieked, shaking her hands as though it would stop this rapid decay. Every time she moved, however, large pieces of skin fell to the floor, continuing to shrivel until they were ashes, slipping out of sight through the seams in the wood floor. Unable to run and unable to stop the horrible burning feeling, Samantha once again ran for the shower, hoping that it would alleviate some of the pain. As soon as she hopped in and turned on the water, however, she saw larger and larger bits of her skin wash away, spotted a couple fingernails, some hair. She felt a pulsing in her skull and grabbed with her now skeletal hands at her temples until - plop plop - both eyeballs rolled out of their sockets and fell lazily to the ceramic. She screamed once again, as she could feel various organs drop from her as soon as the skin was too weak to hold. She reached toward the shower and turned it off, waiting until she no longer felt any burning.
Somehow after the whole ordeal she knew she was still alive. Sure, there wasn't much living material left on her bones, but she could still move, somehow. Her fear had vanished along with her substance, and she seemed to be liberated from the need to sleep, eat, or do virtually any other task. She stepped out of the shower, unable to see but knowing her house from memory (how is that even possible when you don't have a brain? She didn't know. Then, of course, she didn't know how she was thinking that, either.) Walking down the stairs she once again heard Raven trotting towards her. She reached up he bony hand to pet the dog's backbone and, testing her voice which shouldn't be there, said, "Well Raven, I know one thing for sure. I'm not going to miss showers."