room – 4 fin.

The swing door took a few bounces as it closed. The small suspension resisted four times before allowing the glass door to close behind me. It clanged as the aluminum frame hit the door frame. The last of the air in the overhanging suspension hissed out. The house was quiet. Like it was before.

The air was calm and smelled like a rain was eminent.

I proceed upstairs and down the hall. Toward my mom’s room. I didn’t hesitate or even walk any faster. My normal pace. The door was still open.

She wasn’t inside.

I checked the other rooms. My room. My grandma’s room. No one.

I went down the hall into the bathroom.

It was a kinda a small bathroom, for guests, but was also large enough to have a shower. You walk in and the toilet is right there in front of you. The sink and wall sized mirror was on your right. The shower was on your left. Some cheesy opaque shower curtain hung closed. The lights were dim. I flicked the power switch next to the mirror a few times. The light in the center of the ceiling remained a dim orange. Even when I had flicked it off.

A swarm of black liquid appeared in the mirror. I moved thick and slow in a clockwise rotation. Kinda like a whirlpool. It felt brighter than the light. Not sure how it was possible. Maybe it became more predominant than anything in there. Not needing light to tell me it was there. It’s presence was the swirling it made known to my mind. Not my eyes. I knew it was there, moving closer toward me. I darted out.

I ran to the front door. It was still open but the glass screen still shut.

The red Camero was outside. My brother was home.

My blood boiled.

Where the hell was he?

I ran downstairs. The fucking house was acting up again.

Our basement was finished with one big rec room and a couple small rooms. The laundry room was at the end of the stairs. I looked in the big rec room on the right. The room my brother deemed his. He wasn’t there. I went to the other side and checked the two smaller rooms. The windowless rooms had no one. Even the laundry room had no one. I couldn’t believe how angry I was getting. I could feel myself biting down on my tears. I ran upstairs into the living room and threw back the blinds. His car was there. Right in the drive way. That meant he was here. He had to be here. Or even my other brother. Maybe he borrowed the car. Someone drove that thing and parked it there. So someone had to be here. Here to help me out of this madness.

But no one was home. No one but me and this damned house.

Prescriptions – 9 fin.

I roamed around the room. A few people splashed me with their drinks. Very annoying. Who would hold a drink when they are dancing and jumping around? Who? Seriously. I smelled like a walking whiskey and Coke. If anyone strained my clothes they would have a few cocktails to pass around.

There was a long couch in the corner. Two girls were jumping on one half. Carl sat on the other.

He was this heavy older guy. Sloppy and unshaven. Not beard unshaven, but that stubble type of unshaven. One that’s in between intentional and letting it grow. It wasn’t a good look. Especially with him balding. It’s not like he cared, sitting there in sweat pants and a tank top. Appearance was not his thing. And apparently the neither was the party.

It looked like he was trying to enjoy himself. Moving his arms up and down like a boxer. It wasn’t in sync with the music. And his forced smile couldn’t do anything for his tears.

No one paid any attention to him.

He simply sat there. Left alone on the side of the couch. Everyone blitzed out of their minds, only caring about the music and being inebriated. No one even noticed Carl’s arms. They were changing on him. And with each phase of the metamorphosis, his maniacal sadness increased.

His fingers became stuck together. Dry bark started to grow on them. Each time he tried to move his fingers, they started to bleed.

Tears were joined by bumbling crying.

Branches tore through his forearm and bloomed leaves and smaller branches. His arms became small trees. The roots bore their way into his shoulder and chest. He didn’t scream. He only cried and watched helplessly. Not once crying out to any one. His time was here.

I came over and sat next to him. He leaned against me. Never introducing himself or even asking who I was. He just sat there sobbing. And waited for the sickness to take him. I put my arm around his shoulder. He buried his rough face in my shoulder, soaking it with despair.

It didn’t bother me.

I knew it was a horrible fate. Slow and painful. Almost humiliating in a way. But what’s was worse was having to die alone. With no family, no friends, or anyone that cared around.

He died within five minutes.

I sat there still holding on to him. Still supporting the large mass of flesh against me and wondered.

Wondered if anyone would do the same for me.