Brandon was slouched in his leather armchair, pondering the things the average middle-aged man might ponder. Mid-thought about the scratch he’d found on his car earlier that day, an abnormality in the corner of his room caught his eye. Sure enough, further inspection revealed a series of bubbles lining a hairline crack on the wall – a leak. Brandon sighed to himself, and wondered how long it would be before he summoned the effort to contact the landlord of his apartment and get it ammended. He concluded, with regret, probably not until it was much worse and he had no choice. Content with his answer he turned back to the shining monitor in his face.
Brandon lived a normal, and relatively dull life. He was single, had few friends, and worked in a library. His shift lasted from 8 to 4, and the time he spent along dissapeared into the vast depths of the internet. He rented a three room, tiny apartment, for which his library job just covered, along with food, a small car and internet. He had a small amount of savings from where an aunt had passed away, which he had never touched, other than the initial payment for the apartment, and the little furniture he had.
Day after day passed, and nothing changed. That is, except for one small detail, he noticed, on the wall. While reclining, again, on his leather armchair, he once again came face to face with the leak. Only this time the paint had peeled away, revealing a tiny hole, about the diameter of one of those tiny cocktail sticks you find at parties. Brandon scalded himself mentally for not dealing with that problem, remembered his conclusion a few days before, forgave himself, and decided he would act upon it the next day.
The next day came, and Brandon found himself, once again, presented with the tiny hold. He could have swore it was bigger, but there was no damp he could feel of. How peculiar, he thought to himself. He leaned back in his armchair and wondered as to the origins of the disruption to his smooth wall. Sure enough, Brandon ended the evening with his usual routine and the leak, and his outstanding task of contacting the landlord, slipped from his mind. The next day passed, and the next, with similar conclusions.
And another day passed; he was, for the fourth evening in a row, considering the hole when he found himself questioning the his not getting it sorted. It was growing by the day, and was now of such a significant size he felt it definately worthy of his time. Why had he not dealt with that yet? Then again, why would he have? Why should he deal with it, he asked himself. He concluded he didn’t have to deal with it, if he didn’t want to. Anyway, who said he had to? And who was gonna make him if he didnt?
Another day came and went. Brandon had spent his evening looking at the hole when the clock caught his attention and he realised, to his horror, it was 2 in the morning! He had been sat there from 4, when he arrived home, to 2 – 10 hours! Staring at the hole… Why, he hadn’t even eaten! Brandon was never one for concentrating for more than a few minutes on one thing, besides hours. Still, he thought, it was a very appealing hole now he thought of it. Sure it was only a hole, but it was more than that. It wasn’t anything imparticular he could put his finger on, but there was more to it. It had, by this point, continued to grow to about the size of a 2 pence coin, filled with a solid, black void.
After a short 6 hour sleep, Brandon awoke and began his usual morning preparation rhythem, when a thought crept into his mind – Why go to work, when he could stay home? He wasn’t angry about yesturday, he really did have a great time with the hole. But he didn’t like being tired. This way, he could spend all day with the hole, and not loose sleep! Brandon was pleasently chuffed with probably the first ever decent idea he’d had in his life. A week passed since his empiphany, and he had been with his hole ’till about 3 in the afternoon when he concluded he needed to do more for the hole. After all, after all it had done for him, a bit of serendaing was the least he could do. Brandon retieved the single red board-pen he owned, and began drawing. The hole was on a hill, and surrounded by a castle – Brandon liked this, and so did the hole! He looked around, and spotted his wooden chest by the front door. He heaved it over to the hole, and collected the all the cuttlery he owned, and with a few hours of work extra to his name, stood back to survey his work. The hole’s castle stood atop the chest, protected by a fence of metal knives and forks.
Brandon giggled aloud with glee. It was so perfect! And the hole loved it! He was just wondering what he could do next, when he heard a voice. It was a whisper, but he couldn’t tell where it came from. The words were like nothing he had ever heard before – that’s if they were words. Yes, they were words, only no language he’d heard before. It wasn’t a nice language. It didn’t sound quite right for this world. No, this couldn’t be of man, they just weren’t those types of words. “Sko’l-sho-kun” it sang, along with other phrases of equal irrelevance to Brandon. From within the hole something sturred. Brandon leaned in closer to get a better look, but flew back to his chair, as a long, wet limb climed out the hole – a tenticle of sorts. It was a dark green in colour, with a smooth, but textured shine to it. It could be a tenticle, but it couldn’t really. That name didn’t quite fit. It moved slowly, but kept extending, right up to Brandon who, by this point, was simply struck with awe. It made its steady way behind him, and back round to his front. Again it did this, and as Brandon watched in anticipation, he realised it had wrapped itself twice round his neck! As if he had woken from a nightmare he broke out of the trace and tried to scream. His body stiffened and his limbs flailed around the arm of steel. Every muscle in his body jolted as he seeked to be free of the creatures grasp…
As the tenticle snapped taught, a sickening snap could be heard from the apartments around, followed by a dull thud as his lifeless corpse dropped to the floor. The part decayed body was discovered 2 months later, after police forced entry to the apartment ensuing complaints of smells of decay. Had he not setup the auto-payments in his bank for his bills, perhaps the landlord would have found his body first. It was a bizarre case, to say the least. The body was found with his neck broken in several places, lying on the floor. Bruising was apparent all around his shouldars and neck, and a thick mucus coated his hands and upper body. Items had been knocked off the nearby shelves and desk, as though a struggle had taken place. An alter had been constructed against a wall in the room, to which his body appeared to have fallen after he lost his life, yet nothing stood atop it. Nothing, but a small patch of bubbling paint with a hairline crack running down the middle of it, presumably from a leak. The plumber patched it up and the apartment was cleared. It was assumed to be some sort of cult sacraficial ceremony, and the case was closed.
Something groaded in the wall, and slid away to seek another’s appreciation…
Credit To – Pseudaletis