You know what’s hard? Being tired. I dunno why I’m tired all the time, but when I came home Sunday night from the Renaissance Faire in King’s Valley, Oregon, I was exhausted. So I delayed coming up with something to discuss. And then I was called into jury selection for two separate cases, both of which I would have liked to be on – they were cases you only see discussed on CSI, okay (one was murder). And then after that was long, arduous housework. Because I love housework – or at least that’s what my father thinks.
So for entertainment sakes, I have something for you! I’m actually not sure why I didn’t post this when I first posted it on fictionpress.com. It’s a short story, super short, and it’s a little… Lovecraftian/King-ish. It’s not explicit to the point where you go “how does someone think of this” but it’s explicit enough that you get the idea. Please enjoy: the Yellow Rain Coat.
Alyson stood quietly in an ever-shifting crowd. Sometimes, someone would push her but she’d push back and return to her spot, staring. On the sidewalk, in front of the immovable island, there was a large puddle. It was a large, red puddle, growing with every passing minute. The girl gazed, never wondering if anyone else saw it or if anyone was concerned about her. Drip, drip, drip. That was the only noise she heard. A metallic, coppery smell filled her nose and despite the crowd, it was the only scent she knew. Alyson briefly considered touching and tasting it, but a feeling in the pit of her stomach told her not to.
So she stared. She stared at the red puddle and was lost to the world. No amount of pushing, pulling, dragging, prodding, or hauling could remove her from her sentry. She felt the need to watch for something from within; Alyson was a guard, but what exactly she was guarding, she was not sure of.
For a long while, many hours passed and maybe a few nights, and Alyson saw nothing but a few ripples from the droplets. Yet still she watched. At times, depending how she was shoved about, Alyson saw her reflection. She faintly knew the long, blonde haired girl with a pale complexion and dark blue eyes with the yellow rain coat was her, so she ignored it. Sometimes she thought she heard her name being called, but she never answered. Only once did she remember what the heat of the noon day sun felt like, but she let it bother her none. Almost always, though, she knew hunger. The tiny, petite child felt as though she could consume an entire horse; which was strange because before, she hardly ever ate. It didn’t matter, though. All that did was the puddle. It had to be watched. Who would watch it if she was gone?
And then the puddle did something new.
On the seventh day of her vigil, the puddle seemed to bubble, as if boiling. Alyson leaned forward to get a closer look. Indeed, it was bubbling, but neither heat nor steam rose from the puddle. She took a step closer and that caused the puddle to bubble faster. And Alyson’s belly felt excruciating. Whether from hunger or from something else, she could not tell. She took another step closer and vomited.
A woman screamed. People turned and saw the little blonde girl in the yellow rain coat wrenched apart – wrenched apart by a large, dark, greyish-green thing that looked faintly like an octopus. It was crawling out of her mouth, and something had sliced open her belly. Alyson couldn’t move or scream; she felt no need to. The creatures she had birthed were in the red puddle, making noises. She had done her duty. She could sleep.
Alyson’s last images were of a creature coming forth from the puddle and latching onto the nearest human, killing him as it gruesomely entered his body. Then the creatures were spreading.
Alyson closed her eyes and a voice whispered, “Rest in peace, my darling, you have done your duty.”