by Matt Hickman
Simon stood up and repositioned his laptop, so his bulging crotch filled Amy's screen. Then, as slowly and seductively as he could, he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off.
He tried to make his movements as sensual as he could, imagining he was a male stripper instead of a sexually frustrated shelf stacker. There was nothing less masculine than doing a slow strip-tease alone, in front of a webcam. He posed in his underwear for a few seconds, holding his breath the whole time to give the impression he was much more toned than he actually was, then sat back down on the edge of his bed.
“Now it's your turn,” he said, trying not to let his voice convey his impatience.
“Let me make sure the doors locked,” Amy said as she hopped up and disappeared from view.
Simon took the opportunity to check his own door was secured -the last thing he needed within the next ten or twenty minutes was his mum walking in to put some clothes away, and make sure he had a supply of tissues nearby.
Door locked, check.
Tissues, check.
Let's get this party started...
Amy was back. She had that look in her eye Simon loved so much, a kind of a sultry, wanton, yet vulnerable look that appealed to every aspect of his being. She wanted to be provided for and looked after, wrapped in cotton wool and protected. Yet at the same time, that look said she wanted to be fucked hard and without any semblance of mercy.
“What do you want me to do?” Amy asked, her voice rasping and husky.
“I want you to take off that t-shirt. Now.” Simon said firmly, knowing they were at the stage where Amy's submissive side came to the fore. She liked being told what to do.
Amy paused for effect, and then did as Simon asked, revealing a sexy white lace bra. The fingers of her right hand traced a line down her chest and into the dark crevasse between her breasts.
“Now the bra.”
Amy smiled, flicked hair out of her eyes again, and reached behind her back to undo the clasp. At the same time Simon found his own hand wandering down to where his swollen penis poked at the thin fabric of his boxer shorts. A dark smudge suddenly appeared in the corner of his computer screen.
“Shit,” Simon said, reaching for one of the tissues. He dabbed the edge of it to his tongue to moisten it, then wiped it across the screen. The black smudge remained. “What the fuck?”
“Si? What's wrong?”
“Nothing. Just some dirt, or something on my screen.”
Not only could he not clean it off, the black smudge seemed to be getting bigger. Thicker and darker -bleeding across the screen. It seemed to be snaking out of the shadows clustered in the far right hand corner of Amy's room.
Simon came to a horrifying conclusion. It wasn't a mark on his screen, and his computer wasn't malfunctioning.
Something was in the room with Amy.
He watched, mouth agape, as the inky mass began to take a more solid form, spreading across the wall behind his unwitting girlfriend.
“Amy... what's that?”
“What's what?” she suddenly looked uneasy, and crossed her arms across her breasts.
Simon hesitated. Maybe it was a trick of the light,his imagination. It couldn't be real, could it?
He couldn't take any chances. Not with Amy. “Honey, there's.... something...”
“Something what?”
“Something behind you, on the wall.”
The inky smudge was growing in size and becoming steadily more defined. Now, it measured a metre or so in diameter and seemed to be throbbing menacingly like a gigantic, bloated rotten heart. Simon could make out a malformed head atop a grotesquely elongated neck and a cluster of spindly limbs, each one, bent in the middle like the hooked legs of a spider. the sight was repulsive, yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from it. He wanted to shout, warn Amy. Tell her to run, get the fuck out of the room, now!but the words caught in his throat, and all he could do was point, as his mouth opened and closed uselessly.
“Simon? What's wrong with you? Stop it. You're scaring me. Simon?”
Suddenly, the dark shadowy mass lunged at Amy, completely enveloping her. The thing moved through the air deceptively quickly. Simon heard her scream.
“Noooooooooooo!” Simon leapt to his feet. He had no idea what to do. He just knew he had to help the girl he loved, somehow. He grabbed the door handle and twisted. Shit, locked. Panic-stricken, his mind not knowing how to process the information, his attention turned to his mobile phone on the bedside cabinet. He lunged for it, flipped open the lid, and dialled the emergency number.
“Please, please, please...”
Simon checked his computer screen again. Amy was now almost entirely swallowed up by the black mass. Her screams were weaker and muffled. Time was running out.
As the operator answered the call, Simon's eyes were drawn to the ceiling of his own room. Movement. As he watched, something crawled out of the shadowy mass in the far corner and positioned itself over his head. Simon dropped his phone, then screamed.
Kidz
By
Dale Robertson
Stephen
“Stephen! Turn that thing off and get ready for bed,” his Mum, Anne, shouted through to the living room.
There was no response, as usual. He had become more and more addicted to playing on his tablet over the past week and when she went to take it from him, he snarled like a rabid, feral animal. She ended up leaving him to it as she couldn’t be bothered dealing with another teenage tantrum.
She had worries about Stephen and discussed it with other mothers to see if their kids did the same. In the current climate of technology, she had seen other kids, from toddlers to young adults, glued to their smartphones and tablets. Anne didn’t mind him playing it for short periods of time. Since she’d heard a snippet of chatter about some new game the kids were playing, at roughly the same time Stephen had become obsessed, it had increasingly played on her mind. His moods began to swing randomly and to the extreme, getting agitated and shouting at the slightest questioning.
Other mums had noticed similar behaviour with their own kids and some had success when removing the devices, while others decided it was a phase they would grow out of, so left them to it. Probably allowing themselves time to plutter about on their own smartphones to check on their own social media accounts. Anne couldn’t see the attraction of sharing information with every ‘friend’ and was wary of how easy, said information could be accessed by strangers, despite all the security settings put in place. You never know who was nosing.
Anne had finished the dishes and was drying her hands when she stuck her head round the corner to check on Stephen’s pyjama progress. He was still glued to the screen of his tablet. She sighed and threw the tea towel onto the worktop. “Stephen?”
It took him a moment to lift his heavy eyes, but when he did, he glared at his mother as if she was someone he despised. He jumped up from his chair, keeping tight hold of the tablet, and ran out of the room and stomped up the stairs. A few seconds later, a door slammed shut. Anne closed her eyes and let out a deep, tiring sigh.
Just a phase, she thought. Just a phase.
*****
Having finished her glass of wine, Anne switched off the television and went to rinse out the glass. She switched the downstairs lights off and made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. Stephen’s door was still firmly shut. She pressed an ear against the door, and she thought she could hear a faint tapping noise. She would allow him a last couple of minutes while she got changed for bed and brushed her teeth.
With her bedtime routine complete, Anne made her way back to Stephen’s room and was pleased to hear silence, no tapping, nothing. She placed her hand on the handle and gently pushed down, relieved that it didn’t squeak. Swinging the door open, she spotted her son lying flat on his back, fast asleep. The tablet lay screen down on his chest, gently rising and falling as he breathed. Anne tip-toed over to him, taking care to avoid the creaky floorboards, and lifted the device up, eager to
see what had been capturing her son’s attention so much. She was disappointed to find it was just a generic puzzle game. She didn’t know what she expecting but thought it would be something a bit more adult, maybe some kind of shooting game like Call of Duty.
She pressed the power button to switch it off and crept out of his room. In her own room, Anne sat it on her bedside table and climbed into bed, dying to open her Kindle and start on a new Matt Hickman book she had recently purchased. Within twenty minutes, halfway through a chapter, her eyes closed and the Kindle lay by her side.
*****
Stephen lay still but opened his eyes slowly, his eyelids feeling like weights. His hands patted his chest instinctively and he looked left to right in a frenzy. He sat bolt upright and scanned the table beside him, looking for his tablet. She has taken it, a voice in his head stated. He looked towards his bedroom door and his face twisted into an unnatural snarl.
He skulked out of his room and switched the light on then stood on the landing, staring into nowhere. He nodded his head, as if having an imaginary conversation, and headed downstairs to get what he needed.
Ambling back up the stairs, Stephen stood outside his mum’s room. He glanced to the side and stared blankly at the wall, then nodded. His hand involuntarily lifted up and pushed the door open, bathing his sleeping mother in light. His foot stepped forward to prevent the door from closing and he moved into the room, spying his treasure on the bedside cabinet. A sinister smile graced his face as he faced his mum, but quickly disappeared and was replaced with a glower, his eyebrows shaping into a frown.
He moved a disregarded slipper in front of the door to stop it from closing and advanced towards her bed. His shadow covered her, blocking out most of the light from the hallway, except for a few slithers that emanated either side. His mother began to stir, as if sensing the shape that coated her. Her eyelids fluttered and opened, staring dreamily at her son. “Stephen?”
He remained silent as he brought an object into view. It glinted in the light and Anne gasped as she recognised it. Her reactions were delayed by the surprise, her mind not believing the sight before her. “Ste—“
Her protest was cut short as the kitchen knife was brought down with force.
*****
Stephen wiped the blood from his face with the sleeve of his pyjamas, as he picked up the tablet and activated the game that had held his mind. His face reverted back to a child-like state, as he started to tap the screen, and smiled to himself.
Charlie
Charlie had already spied where his big sister had hidden her iPad. She was always trying to keep it off him and had resorted to hiding it, to stop him pestering her. She had slipped up though, and he had spotted it.
Their parents had left for the night and his sister, Becky, was supposedly in charge of him for a few hours. Sometimes he didn’t mind, but tonight was not one of those times. She would always plonk him down in front of the television while she engrossed herself in front of her iPad. He would always look over and try to saddle up to her to see what held her attention. Becky would always shoo him away and tell him to get back to his program, in which case, he would keep watch from the corner of his eye.
“Hey, Pip Squeak! Where are you hiding?” Becky called.
He could hear her searching from room to room but thankfully he already had his prize and was hiding under the bed attempting to unlock it. He had seen Becky’s hand movements enough times to know roughly what her unlock code would be and it took him several attempts before he was successful. Scanning the various apps, he was lost with the wide variety, but a strange looking design caught his eye. It was a star shape, with an angry looking face in the middle and bizarre symbols at each point. It was simply called The Game.
He frowned at it, trying to work out what it could be, but the sound of footsteps distracted him. He looked up, where he could just make out the silhouette of the bedroom door. The footsteps were getting louder. “Come on Charlie, this is getting boring.”
He automatically clicked on the logo for the app before he was caught and reprimanded. He was mesmerised by the swirling patterns and dark images that appeared on screen. He didn’t know what it meant and was confused when no menu appeared but he found he couldn’t take his eyes off it, no matter how hard he tried. He began to tap the images to see if that would help but more kept appearing.
The door opened slowly as his sister poked her head into the room. She looked around and saw a soft glow originating from under her bed. She bent slightly and angled her head to look. She smiled to herself as she spotted Charlie’s feet. “Well done, Pip Squeak. You know what; you earned it for the effort you went to. Come downstairs when you’re ready, it will be bed time soon.” She couldn’t be bothered arguing with him at this time of night, when all she wanted was some peace to catch up on her virtual life. She retreated out of the room, headed back down to the living room and switched on the television - an automatic instinct whenever she entered the room.
Becky sat on the sofa, curled her feet up and grabbed her smartphone, before unlocking it and delving into her social networks.
*****
In Becky’s bedroom, under the bed, Charlie was still focused on the iPad, tapping away on the screen at something he couldn’t make sense of. He tried to stop but found that his hand was moving of its own accord. He began to panic but his eyes wouldn’t divert from the screen. “What’s going on?” he muttered.
His whole body was frozen as his mind took in images, weird symbols and the occasional word, which he couldn’t comprehend. He felt a swell of anger growing inside of him but didn’t know why. It grew and grew until he felt his body begin to shake with rage. His face gnarled into a sneer and he slid himself out from under Becky’s bed.
*****
“Yes, Mark, I’m on my own. Well, except for Charlie.”
She giggled at his response. “No, you can’t come over.”
She laughed again. “Well, that sounds really nice, but it’s still a no. My parents will be back soon.”
Thud!
Becky looked around in the direction of the noise. “Wait a minute Mark,” she said, and put the phone down. “Charlie!” she called.
No response.
She picked the phone back up. “Mark, I’ll call you back,” she said, ending the call. She jumped off the sofa and peeked her head out of the living room door, glancing up and down the hall. She thought she could see a faint light in the kitchen and screwed her eyes up to try and distinguish it, as she thought maybe Charlie had headed for the fridge to grab a snack.
Reaching the kitchen, the glow turned out to be a mirage and everything remained silent. She glanced around and noticed the connecting garage door stood ajar. She walked over to it and called out, “Charlie? You know you’re not allowed in here. Come out, now.” There was no reply so she closed the door and started back towards her bedroom to see if he was still hiding. This wasn’t like him.
Becky pushed her door open, got down on her knees and saw that Charlie was still there, tapping away on the screen. “You okay?” she asked, but Charlie never turned from the iPad. “Charlie?” She reached under the bed to grab hold of his ankle and pull him out but was met with a sudden slap on the hand. “Jesus, Charlie. Fine. Stay there. But I’ll be back in ten minutes when it’s your bedtime, and I will be dragging you out.”
She stomped out of the room, happy in the knowledge the thud wasn’t him injuring himself but pissed off at her stinging hand. She knew her parents would be home soon and she would tell them she wasn’t sitting him again. I have my own life you know, she imagined herself telling them. Heading back to the living room, Becky settled on the sofa again, thinking about her conversation with Mark and smiled.
*****
Charlie stood behind his sister, iPad in one hand and his dad’s lump hammer in the other, staring at the back of her head with an intense curiosity, as she sat immersed on her phone. A manic smile graced his face as he swung the hammer back.
Charlie walked around the furniture as his sister’s body continued to twitch. He looked at the iPad and smiled at something only he understood. He raised the hammer and brought it down again and again until Becky’s body lay motionless, broken and shattered.
He sat on the floor, with the broken vessel of his sister lying behind him, tapping furiously on the device, eyes awash with intensity.
The Collective
As the street lay silent and pitch black, streetlights illuminated spots of pavement at regular intervals. Several front doors lay open as children of all ages stood silently on their front steps, staring trance-like into thin air. Each of them lifted tablets they gripped tightly and took instructions from an unseen force.
They moved in unison towards the local park, eagerly awaiting their next command.
Mother is God
By
Mark Nye
Sarah was angry again. Every week she flew off the handle at the weirdest things. But this time was exceptional. Her face was turning red, and the veins on her neck throbbed a bright purple. Clive didn’t understand what had set her off this time. He was sure he hadn’t left the oven on again or the front door unlocked. What had he missed? What had he forgotten? He didn’t want to go through this again; the scars hadn’t healed from the last incident.
“I’m fucking pregnant.” Her words echoed around the bedroom. Clive avoided her arctic gaze. She could kill a piece of his soul with those eyes.
