Date: 4/29/2019
By zomzi
I was running down the steps with the other people doing the same, losing bags and and items as we fled; I know not what we ran from. I met a small man on the stairs with his face in his hands. He gave off the energy that he had all but given up, but when I approached he lifted his head and smiled as if relieved to see someone. When we reached the bottom of the stairs, we were in a desert but safe somehow. We all remarked on how we got out alive. But the small man followed me everywhere. The more he spoke to me, the more his body would rot. He kept telling me how much he wanted to engulf me. He began to touch me, and as he did his flesh tore and dried. As if he was a mummy mid rot. Flesh hung from him like dirty torn bandages and his nails were all blackened and broken as if he scratched his way out of hell. I screamed, my voice was so low. But something scared him and he hid. He would talk to me through books; he’d change the words and hold conversations within my head. “Just wait, I am going to engulf you. Every surfaced and pore will be mine. Just wait”. Sometimes he’d even try to sweet talk me. Other times he’d Say he’s more fond of wet surfaces. I stopped reading, I wouldn’t even risk watching tv. One day I found my mother asleep on the couch clutching a book. He had told me he had finally begun. When she awoke she told me it was fine, she did not mind being engulfed and taken over. He laughed as his body burst into ash. I woke up.