Disturbed Graves: Tales of Terror and the Undead

Home > Other > Disturbed Graves: Tales of Terror and the Undead > Page 10
Disturbed Graves: Tales of Terror and the Undead Page 10

by D. Allen Crowley


  She reached for him with a delicate, tiny hand that touched his chest gently. She trailed her fingernails over his ponderous gut to the top of his boxers, and before he could react, she slipped her hand under his waistband and touched him. Her touch was intoxicating.

  What happened next was a blur. He found his boxers around his ankles and she was naked in his arms. She hopped nimbly onto the checkout counter and pulled him close. He was inside of her and, with several quick, panting thrusts, he came.

  With the spilling of his seed, his senses returned to him almost instantly. He pulled out of and away from her, and the perfume he’d smelled suddenly soured. He gagged. What he’d originally thought of as a floral, heady perfume was now a briny, fishy smell. It was like the rot of low tide.

  He bent with a grunt, pulling his underwear up, and looked back at the woman who still sat on the counter.

  She had changed. The face that he’d thought beautiful was different, changing like the nature of her musk.

  Fat Bill heard a sound behind him and turned with a start, peering at the back of the store. Just then, the woman made a mewling, grating sound that took him a second to realize was laughter. The inhuman sound of it made his sweating skin break out in goose bumps and he staggered several steps away from her, down the main aisle. Behind him, he heard a clicking sound again and he turned once more.

  Then he saw what was making the sound.

  Behind the deli counter, sitting on the slicer, was what looked like a child. It was the same size as a child, but that’s where the similarity ended. With a growl, it looked up at him and Fat Bill suddenly felt the unsettling vertigo of fear and disbelief.

  The small creature was pale and had long, gangly limbs that terminated in long, black sharp nails. Its skin was scaly and bluish and pale in the dim light, so pale it looked almost luminescent. It was the pale of a corpse in a grave. The monster was naked and its grotesque body was wrapped around the meat cutter, licking at the blade with a bluish tongue. Worst of all was its sharp, canine teeth and its eyes – eyes that were unblinking and too large; eyes that stared at Bill with a malevolent intelligence.

  It suddenly moved with insect-like quickness, and jumped from the meat cutter to the top of the deli-display counter. It snarled at him in a way that could only be described as hungry, and made a clicking sound with its sharp, scary teeth. To Bill’s growing horror, he heard the clicking answered in another section of the store, and then another, and then yet another. There was a crashing sound beside him and he darted a glance sideways to see another of the small creatures on the shelf beside him, scrambling over the top shelf and knocking aside cans of Heinz Pork and Beans. The second creature hissed and swiped at Fat Bill with one of its long, bony arms. It struck his cheek and Bill felt as though he’d been struck by a stick with razors taped to the end of it.

  “What the hell are you?” he screamed, wheeling away from the attacking creature and falling heavily into the shelving on the opposite side of the aisle. He held a hand to his cheek and felt wetness and a gaping wound.

  He tried to turn and run, his heart pounding heavily in his thick, barrel chest, but only managed to take a few steps before he tripped over various cans and groceries that had fallen into the aisle. He crashed heavily to the linoleum floor, his shirtless chest and stomach squeaking across it like a sneaker on a basketball court.

  He cried out and ponderously rolled over. The creature in the deli jumped from the top of the counter and quickly skittered across the floor at him. With a panicked grunting noise, Bill rolled back over and began clawing and crawling his way down the aisle towards the front of the store. He felt the one from the shelf jump on his back, sinking sharp tiny claws into the fat at the base of his neck and biting at his ear. The creature smelled of fish and brine and although it weighed next to nothing, Bill was pinned beneath it.

  “Jesus Jesus Jesus…!” Fat Bill screamed as he felt the first creature, the one from the deli, scurry up his legs and bite him like a baby tiger shark in the fatty folds of his right inner thigh. Bill screamed in pain and horror, the sound a panicked, sharp braying noise that sounded almost like that made by an animal in a trap.

  He convulsed and shook under the two attackers and looked up at the woman at the front of the store. She stepped from the darkness and he saw that she was only female in form. She was a full grown version of the invaders, and although she had full breasts and curvy hips, she was as grave-mold pale and as inhuman as the creatures even now tearing at him. She looked at him with alien eyes and a face that was mostly teeth and grinned at him and his agony.

  He also saw with revulsion that she was holding an even smaller version of his attackers and it was nursing at one of four blue-tinted breasts with black nipples that lined her scaly chest. She snarled and clicked her long, piranha-like teeth together like her progeny. She reached a hand between her legs and wiped at the mix of blood and semen that dripped from within her. She raised the hand to her mouth and licked it.

  “What are you? WHAT DID I DO?” Bill screamed in horror. Despite the pain and terror he felt at being attacked, he was almost overcome with the feelings of revulsion at the memory of what he’d done. He felt as though he’d been raped.

  Heeding her clicking call, there was a sudden scratching and scampering sound and three more of the creatures came scurrying around the corner. They spied him hungrily and bounded at his downed form.

  Fat Bill tried to cover his face, but they were too quick. One of them launched at his face and bit him savagely on his nose. He felt the creature’s teeth worry at the glob of his nose and suddenly click together, severing it from his face.

  The pain was indescribable.

  Fat Bill screamed and screamed again as the other creatures began tearing great chunks of fat and meat from his body. He tried to fight them, but they were too quick and his pain was too great.

  Fat Bill was awake and alive and aware of their feasting for an amazingly long time. When one of them chewed its way into his abdomen, the creatures fought like hyenas over the ropy, earthy smelling lengths of his intestines. He had long since screamed himself hoarse and only grunted as he felt their frenzied tugging at his guts deep within himself.

  At one point, the mother of the abominations crossed to him and tore a hunk of flesh from his chest. From his place on the floor, he saw her offer it to the clinging creature at her breast. It licked the red, glistening glob of meat and then hungrily gulped it down.

  Fat Bill slipped into blackness, and died.

  The creatures continued feeding on his rapidly cooling body.

  As the sky lightened over the Atlantic Ocean, the mother made a soft cooing sound and the creatures looked up from what was once Fat Bill. She padded down the aisle to the back of the store, and her offspring followed, leaving four-toed and bloody footprints as they scurried behind her.

  They passed out of the store and into the night, drawn back to the dark, cold sea. The smaller creatures were sated and full from their meal, and the mother could already feel the hormonal change as Fat Bill’s seed wormed its way into her womb.

  Her brood would soon have one more mouth to feed…

  About The Author

  D. Allen Crowley is an author, poet, and expert in all things spooky. He lives in historic, haunted downtown Willoughby, Ohio with his family, a cat, and two dogs of questionable hygiene and intelligence. Mr. Crowley has two novels to his credit and has also had short stories and poetry published in both print and online magazines. He writes a creative blog about horror films, literature, and whatever else strikes his fancy under the pseudonym of Doctor Zombie.

  Please feel free to visit him at www.doctorzombie.blogspot.com.

 

 

 
= " -webkit-filter: grayscale(100%); -moz-filter: grayscale(100%); -o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share



‹ Prev