The BLOB

It was a cold winter morning when the bodies were found. A morning like any other, until it wasn't.

Sarah Shelby, from the corner house, had just dropped her kids off at the bus stop and headed off for her morning run when she noticed something a bit odd: The Smiths hadn't let their dog out. Now, if you knew the Smiths you knew this simply didn't happen; Crepe, their German Shepard, was a rowdy boy who woke up bright and early every day, ready for action. So it being almost 8am made his still being in the house highly unusual. In the 6 years the Shelby family had lived on this street, Sarah couldn't think of that happening even once before.

"Hello?" Sarah cheerily called whilst gently knocking on the Smith's front door. No answer, not even the standard chorus of barking Crepe usually greeted guests with. For some reason, the hairs on the back of Sarah's neck stood at attention as she reached for the doorknob. Unlocked. In the weeks following, Sarah would find herself questioning why the hell she even went in that house.

She pushed her way inside and was immediately hit by the metallic smell of blood. Lots and lots of blood. She stepped into the foyer making sure to leave the door open behind her, but even still she could barely see anything. Making her way down the long entryway hall and peering around the corner into their living room, Sarah saw it. Lying in a pool of morning light slipping in through a cracked curtain, slumped in a disheveled pile of blood, fur and pillow stuffing, was Crepe. Abdomen sliced open from end to end, Sarah could tell he had fought quite hard to survive. Sliding her phone out of her waist pocket she quickly called the cops, doing her best to keep the panic from her voice. She was unsuccessful. The police would arrive 6 minutes after the call was placed; fast, but not fast enough.

8:01 AM

Hanging up with the police, Sarah turned to exit the house and wait for the cops on the porch. She was pretty sure she was alone, but she couldn't shake this feeling of needing to get out.

She wanted to make sure Laura and Kim Smith were okay, but she was alone and unarmed and something brutally murdered their dog. She had children who needed her, her safety was her priority. Turning the corner to the entryway, Sarah stopped dead in her tracks. The front door was closed. She was positive she had left that open, and although the wind was a possibility she didn't hear it slam shut. Sarah froze in place, squinting at a shadow just to the left of the door. Once she noticed it, it only took her a second to discern that standing perfectly still against the wall, was a person.

8:02 AM

"Laura? Kim? Is that you?" Sarah quietly called out, inching slowly towards the door. The person moved but it wasn't until Sarah heard the sickening thunk of the deadbolt did she realize they had reached to lock the door. A sinister smile bloomed on their face from ear to ear, and even in the near dark Sarah could see their teeth had been sharpened to a point.

She wanted to scream, tried to scream, but the sound wouldn't leave her throat. For what felt like an eternity the two stood locked in place, gazes locked, until in a burst of courage Sarah turned on her heels and ran for the stairs, just past the living room. The thunderous slaps of bare flesh hitting the ground followed her, and after a few seconds Sarah realized they were running on all fours.

8:03AM

Reaching the top of the stairs, Sarah glanced over her shoulder to see her pursuer was only a few feet behind her. Sarah had gone running every morning for the last 3 years and it was finally paying off. Digging deep, Sarah sprang forward towards the end of the hall and just as she was throwing herself behind the far bedroom door, she got her first good look at who was chasing her.

Speeding past an open window, Sarah was able to catch a glimpse of him in full morning light. He was much skinnier than Sarah expected, bones deeply visible under the collar of his shirt. His eyes were deeply sunken in with dark spots so heavy it looked like he hadn't slept in years. His skin was ashen and tight, like a mixture between dehydration and hypothermia, covered head to toe in blood. Chunks of flesh and viscera, bones and fur littered his entire body. Under his nails, in his teeth, in his hair.

This time, Sarah was able to scream with no problem, slamming the door closed just in time. There was a dresser just to the right, and with one big heave she threw it down blocking the door. The door shook and rattled like there was a tornado on the other side, and after a second long pause, Sarah heard the most terrifying sound of her life.

8:04AM

It was a cross between a man screaming and a bat screeching, and it startled Sarah badly she doubled over backwards, her back landing in a pool of sticky warm liquid. She craned her neck to the side, wincing in pain, and was greeted eye-to-eye by the disembodied head of Kim Smith. Sarah screamed again and was greeted by the man returning a scream of his own.

The banging on the door resumed, but Sarah hardly noticed. Looking around the room, she for the first time thought she could really die here. Shrwen about like hyper realistic Halloween decorations were the Smiths. Or at least pieces of them. Fingers and limbs going one direction, innards going another, Sarah felt the air leave her lungs. A splintering sound behind her snapped her back reality, and she turned to see the door was beginning to give out. Long spears of wood had begun breaking away and Sarah could catch glimpses of motion through the cracks.

8:05AM

She quickly turned on her heels and scanned the room for weapons, or an exit. Sarah felt a deep pagne of sorrow, the Smith's put so much time and effort into restoring the vintage pieces that adorned their home and to look upon the state now she couldn't help but feel bad. Another bang at the door reminded her she needed to worry about herself. There was only one Window in the room, a big double pane with mahogany trim. And wrought iron bars. Fuck. How had she never noticed those? Throwing the window open, she tugged at the bars, testing to see if they'd loosened with age. They hadn't. Another bang at the door, this time sending veining cracks down the entirety of its length. It would sustain maybe one or two hits before giving way, and Sarah was no closer to securing her survival.

Sinking to her knees, Sarah began to angrily sob. Why was this happening? What was even happening? Desperation mixed with fear in her belly, and feeling that she was out of options, Sarah turned her head to the door and screamed "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?" and to her surprise, this time he answered. In words.

His voice was so mundane Sarah could hardly believe what she was hearing, but clear as day, he simply answered: "Because I need to feel it again." There was a long pause, the man taking deep, ragged breaths. "I just want to feel it again."

With a crash, the door caved in.

8:06AM

The house was eerily quiet when Officers Walsh and Cummings arrived. The rest of the street was bustling with families and children, gleefully enjoying the unusually nice weather. It was cold, but the sun was starting to rise and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

The curtains in every room except one on the second floor had been drawn and there didn't appear to be a single light on in the entire home. Walsh shot his partner a concerned glance before stepping out of the squad car. Dispatch said a woman called in a brutally murdered dog, and that she would be waiting for us on the porch, but there wasn't anyone around. It had taken them a few minutes to arrive, maybe she went back inside?

Cummings knocked on the door, waited a few seconds for response, then tried the handle when there wasn't one. Unlocked, guess she was inside.

"Andover Police! Please make your presence known to us!" Cummings called as he poked his head in. A few seconds passed and again, there was no answer. Glancing over his shoulder for confirmation, Cummings cautiously entered the home, hand purposefully resting on his side arm.

"Ma'am? Andover Police?" Walsh called as he rounded the first corner into the living room, following his partner, and nearly bumping into him. Cummings had stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide and focused. Walsh scanned the room and saw what he thought his partner was staring at, the dismembered dog. But as he was about to speak, Cummings quickly grasped his hand and clenched his jaw, drawing Walsh's eyes to what he was actually looking at.

Standing perfectly still just across the room, in the folds of the curtains, was a man.

Both officers felt ice-cold sweat run down their spines and for a moment, the room was all but silent.

Then, he spoke. "She didn't make me feel it." There was a deep, heavy loss to his voice. "None of them can make me feel it. I just need to feel it again, do you think you can help me?"

A terrifying grin splashed across his face, and that grin was the last thing either Officers Walsh or Cummings ever saw.