Then one night I woke up to a tapping sound from inside the walls. Anywhere else in the world I’d have just told myself it was the house settling as the air cooled down, but something told me it was more than that here. I followed the sound to the far wall of the kitchen. I put my hand out and pressed where I thought it was coming from, and that same black fog oozed out from the cracks in the wood. It fell like oil onto the floor around my feet and I felt it seep under my bare toes.
Then I felt a tingle, like millions of tiny teeth. I pulled my foot away and saw droplets of red trailing behind it. The oily darkness lashed out, grabbing each drop and absorbing it, getting whatever it could of me.
I edged around the creeping shadow on the floor and found a bowl in the cupboard, big enough to cover it, to trap it. I slammed it down over the oily substance and went upstairs to cover the hundreds of tiny cuts in my foot. I thought I was safe, I thought it was just another monster. I didn’t realize that it would develop a taste for me.
I can’t move anymore. The darkness has taken too much of me. First my feet, then the skin on my legs. Anytime I was out of the light, anytime a shadow got too close, it would start feeding again.
I can feel it eating my lips and my eyelids. I must still have one ear because I can hear people outside talking about being here for the summer. I can hear a van door sliding closed. I guess people really do still come here sometimes. I just hope they make it up the stairs before I’m gone completely, but I don’t think they will. I don’t think the darkness will let them.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
RICHARD FAIRGRAY is a writer, artist, and colorist, best known for his work in comic books such as Blastosaurus and Ghost Ghost and picture books such as Gorillas in Our Midst, My Grandpa Is a Dinosaur, and If I Had an Elephant. As a child he firmly believed he would grow up and eat all the candy he wanted and stay up as late as he liked. By drawing pictures when he wasn’t meant to and reading all the things people told him not to, he has made his dream come true.
Richard lives in Surrey, British Columbia, where he is able to work furiously, surrounded by plastic skeletons, dogs, friends, loved ones (and possibly the most comprehensive collection of Courtney Love bootlegs on the planet).
Black Sand Beach 1.5 Page 5
