Musk

Tom dropped to his knees, a gurgling sound coming from the hole in his throat as he tried to give voice to his pain. His eyes bulged out, fear replaced by agony before he shifted to the left. A moment later, the only noise that came from the corpse was the slow drip of blood.

Margret was crouched behind one of the desks that weren’t flipped over. She had her cheek pressed against the floor, no longer worried about messing up her make up, and was watching the room in front of her.

She had heard the commotion outside, but instead of jumping up with the others to go see what was happening, Margret had taken a moment to save her project and lock her computer.  A few seconds spent in the attempt to save her work saved her life. She had just stood up when Ann’s body had been thrown across the room to smack against either side of Mr. Franklins’ office.

Now, she watched as Tom’s eyes went glassy and the gigantic, hairy foot stepped down into the growing pool of the cute man’s blood.

She could hear it sniffing the air. A sniffle, two steps one way, another sniffle, and then two steps back the other. She knew it could smell her; her fear or the musky perfume that she had decided to wear. What it smelled didn’t matter. The monster was searching for her.

When it stepped around the desk behind her, Margret closed her eyes. “Please don’t let it hurt,” She whispered as she heard the sniffling speed up.

There was a soft, wispy sound beside her face, and Margret couldn’t help but crack open one eye to look at the bloody fur of the beasts paw beside her. There were bits of some stringy body part clinging to the curved claws that rested a few inches from her face and Margret squeaked before shutting her eyes tighter. “Please don’t let it hurt.”

Whatever this was, it sniffed all over her. Margret remained rigid, her face on the floor while bent over on all fours. She tried to keep quiet, but more to keep from screaming than because she thought the creature might leave her be.

The monster leaned further down. It lowered its weight onto her and put its face down beside her cheek. Tears and snot leaked down onto the floor as Margret bit down on her lip and drew blood.

When her cheek was touched, it was rough, warm and wet. One, long, drawn out touch that ran from the base of her neck, up her cheek and then came away at her hair line.

It had licked her.

The animal licked her again, then drew away and started sniffing again. It alternated between the two, until Margret’s face was as wet and sticky as the day her father had brought home her first puppy.

When the creature used its nose to push Margret from behind, she slid forward and sprawled out. The tongue licked behind her knee and Margret opened her eyes. A new terror had replaced her fear of being torn apart.

As she looked under her desk, trying to think of any escape from the attentions of whatever this was, she saw her overturned purse. The new bottle of perfume had rolled out and sat facing her.

“Full Moon Musk: Call The Wild.”

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Categories: Flash Fiction, Horror, Were
  1. ganymeder
    May 23, 2013 at 11:20 PM

    Oh dear…

  2. May 24, 2013 at 9:21 AM

    Probably, but I like the open ended nature of this ending.

    I am also one of those men who don’t really like perfume.

  3. May 26, 2013 at 8:31 PM

    You say you don’t like perfume, but he coolest part about the story is that her perfume maybe caused the chaos, but it saved her life. Leaving it open-ended was the right way to go…we (readers) have to imagine what she did with that knowledge.

    Very cool story.

    • May 28, 2013 at 12:34 PM

      Thanks.

      I am not a fan of perfume. I just don’t notice when it changes or if someone is wearing it one day or not. I like my wife’s perfume, but only because she is wearing it.

  4. May 26, 2013 at 8:50 PM

    LOL For some reason I find the end funny.

    • May 28, 2013 at 12:37 PM

      Thanks. I don’t often get a lot of funny in my work so I think it’s great that you got that out of it.

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