Home > Flash Fiction, Horror, Were > Results – Part 2

Results – Part 2

Mark pulled up and grabbed his tablet. According to the days roster, this was the last house he was supposed to power up, which was a damned good thing because he was ready to head home, grab a beer, flop down on the couch and drink it while Maria gave him head.

“Working on your birthday sucks shit through a straw,” he said to himself as he grabbed his tool belt. Mark hung the heavy collection of screwdrivers, pliers and wrenches on his shoulder before picking up the stupid white hard hat that OSHA insisted he wear. “Not calling in sick today had better be fucking worth it when I get home.”

He looked around the neighborhood. It was one of those new, yuppie housing additions that were springing up on the outskirts of so many towns. Each home looked different on the outside, but to his construction eye, he realized that the internal layout was almost identical. Cookie cutter homes with different frosting on each one.

Mark walked up the drive, thinking about the little Hispanic woman who had convinced him to work today. “You save your PTO for when you need it for sick,” she had said. “I make you happy you save it when you get home, Gringo.” Her accent, when she wanted to be sexy, stretched out the last word, rolling the r as she batted her eyes at him.

He was so whipped.

He headed around the house to the meter, stepping on a mixture of scraggly grass, weeds and bare dirt where the landscapers hadn’t been called in yet. He was still thinking of Maria. Short and petite, he liked to think of her as spicy, like good fresh salsa. His special treat from south of the border.

“I am going to do so many things to you tonight,” he said as he flipped the latch and opened the service box. “I think I might just introduce you to anOWWW. Fuck!” He jumped backward, pinching his finger and thumb where he cut his hand on the box. “God Dammit!”

Mark shook his hand, looking at the blood dripping from his finger, when a cold chill raced up his spine. Goose-flesh crawled over his body like small blacks ants that had just found where you spilled syrup on the counter. He looked behind him, heart speeding up as something deep inside made him want to run away.

Nothing was there. He was standing outside of a half built box for some dumb ass to live in and nobody was there. Mark took a deep breath, sucked on his finger for a second, and then turned back to the box. “Yeah, she is gonna get it tonight. Save my PTO my fucking ass.”

He didn’t waste any time on the box. Doing his best to make the external connections and lock everything back up as fast as he could. The feeling that he was being watched was driving him crazy and Mark turned around repeatedly to look back over his shoulder. “Fucking place gives me the creeps.”

Standing in front of the house, Mark had to swallow down a lump of anxiety that was building up. He knew the internal box was in the basement. He had done this twice today and three or four times a day for the last couple of weeks. Standard job, standard tools, nothing to speak of and boring compared to some of the projects he had worked on. But for some reason, he was having trouble walking into this house. It wasn’t finished. There wasn’t anyone there and there wasn’t going to be for months.

One big, deep breath and he ground his teeth together and stomped through the garage. Mark would never admit it, but he was clomping and banging things on his way in so that if someone was here, they would know where he was and have a chance to get out.

His big flashlight and the head lamp on his hard hat led him down the stairs. The basement was clean and empty, just like it should have been. He walked over to the box and started checking the connections.

The creak of the floor boards above him made him jump. It wasn’t settling; brand new houses didn’t do that. Which mean someone big was walking around up stairs. Mark held his hammer and his breath as he waited. Another creak came from the floor, followed by another. Whoever was up there was moving slow, maybe to try to sneak up on him despite their obvious weight, but the house was giving them away.

“If you aren’t from the construction company you’re trespassing.”

There was no answer or creak from above. Mark stood with his back to the wall, breathing heavy and sweating, afraid that the feeling of being watched had been because of whatever was in the house. He wasn’t a small man, but Mark had never been a fighter. He did not like trouble and did his best to avoid it his whole life. All he wanted was for the guy upstairs to go away.

The next creak was loud, and it came from both the floor above him and down the stairs. Whoever this was, they were standing at the top of the stairs.

“Get out of here or I will call the cops!”

Mark trained his flashlight at the top of the stairs. He hoped that the light would make his stalker think twice about coming down to get him.

What the light did was let him see the massive paw that came to rest on the steps.

“Oh fuck.”

Mark hated dogs, and that paw was huge. As the next one came down, he realized that he had nowhere to go if some rabid, Cujo looking monster came into the basement with him.

“Get out of here!” He hurled one of his wrenches at the stairs, bouncing the drop cast tool against the concrete wall just below the lead foot.

Mark pulled a screwdriver to throw, but it fell from his hand as the beast came further into view.

The mass that came down the stairs stared at him with bright, yellow eyes. It looked like some kind of giant cat although he had never seen anything like it on the nature channel, slinking down the stairs without taking its eyes off of him.

When it reached the bottom of the stairs it crouched there, not moving, just staring at the man. Mark watched the muscles shift and move below the thick, brown fur as it settled itself. The only place to see a cat this big should have been in a zoo.

“Nice kitty?”

The tip of its tail began to twitch, just like his sister’s cats had done when they were about to pounce on those stupid jingling balls that she had always bought for them.

Mark pulled his hammer off of his tool belt. “Get out of here.”

When the thing made a sound, it let out a cross between a dog’s howl and a cat screeching in pain. It was loud, louder than Mark’s yelling had been, and Mark pissed his pants as he dropped his light and hammer to cover his ears.

The light bounced off the basement floor, its beam shooting around as it settled down and began to rock. The shadows jumped and moved with it, until everything came to rest. The white light of the bulb reflected a bit of blue off the new concrete wall, but a lot of red off the puddle spreading out on the floor beneath it.

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Categories: Flash Fiction, Horror, Were
  1. June 7, 2013 at 4:05 PM

    Crikey! Maybe he wasn’t the nicest guy in the world but he didn’t deserve to have what I think he’s had happen to him on his birthday. He should have hightailed it out of there and left the job for another day or another contractor. His instincts were right. Like the way you built up the fear factor for your reader and your character.

    • June 7, 2013 at 9:54 PM

      Thanks for stopping in and commenting. I love the feed back.

      Just wait for next week. This story is going to go on for a little bit. I am having fun with it.

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