Fiend

An elderly man sits on his porch under an overtly bright lamp in the dead of night with his shotgun on his lap. He finds it peaceful, it’s his favorite thing that he can still physically do. He uses this time to harken back on his life, to think about what could have been and just enjoy being alone in nature, miles away from any neighbors as his days on Earth dwindle away.

“Oh Roderick.” he says to himself into the deafening silence he’s surrounded by. “You’ve had some good times, even if they might have not exactly been…fun for everyone involved.” he chuckles to himself. “Ever since Lucy left me,” he continues, steadily rocking back and forth in his wooden chair. “All that remains for me is this raggedy house, slowly rotting like myself.” he stares down at his wrinkled palms, observing the years portrayed by the wear and tear on his leathery skin. He loses himself for a moment, drifting off in thought, wondering what he could have done differently, or if anything he’s done has even mattered at all. “I didn’t deserve Lucy, or any kindness at all for that matter.” he says to himself in defeat. His head jerks back up in a hurry, hearing a branch snap not far from him. “What the flying fuck? Oh shit!” he exclaims, startled out of his deep train of thought. A deer looms in front of him, mere meters away. “I haven’t seen one of you ‘round here in a long time.” he clutches his shotgun, remembering the days of old when he would hunt with his father and eventually his only son. “Get outta here!” he shouts at the deer, he knows those days are long gone, he’s not even sure his rusty shotgun still works. It’s more of a memento now for him, the first gun his dad ever gave to him and the one he had planned to give to his son had he not passed away in his teens. “‘Fore I change my mind!” he yells his empty threats attempting to rid the beast from his lawn. The deer, unbothered, just stares back at him, grinding it’s teeth like a cow, filling it’s stomach with the vegetation his yard has to offer. “Why you littl-“ he’s interrupted by a sharp sensation in his hands. He looks down to see his fingernails, crawling off of his fingertips with hundreds of tiny legs like a millipede, flesh clinging to the underside of the keratin. He screams and attempts to jump up from his seat, but something is forcing him still; He can sense some sort of aura emanating around him keeping him put. The skin on his arms peels back as easily as stickers, curling into rolls of meat and tissue while blood gushes from them like geysers. He struggles to break free, barely shaking the chair as he whimpers uncontrollably. His legs extend outward, then bend vertically past the point the knee would normally allow; He can feel his bones splintering as they straighten into a ninety-degree angle. He screams in horror and agony as he is tortured by an unknown entity. He clamps his eyes shut and begs out loud for mercy “PLEASE OH GOD PLEASE STOP!” he hopes it will all go away, still reeling from the pain of his body being ripped apart. As he finally finds the courage to reopen them, he leaps forward out of the chair falling to his knees, the shotgun flung from his lap down the steps of his porch. He cries as he gathers himself, desperately checking his arms and hands, patting himself all over his body to ensure every limb and ligament is still in tact. He finds, nothing, everything is as it should be, like it never happened. Tears pour down his face in relief, thinking himself a bit crazy, but he doesn’t care, he’s just glad it’s finished.

He collects himself long enough to collapse back into his chair unharmed, searching to see the deer again for something else to ground him further in reality. “What the?” he murmurs, licking his cracked lips in a mixture of confusion and arousal. The deer disappeared, instead, an unclad woman now stands just a few feet from him, covered in patches of vibrant reddish-brown fur on her arms and legs. The ears that protrude from her head are much lengthier and more akin to an animal than a person, two unnaturally long horns sprout from her forehead; Her nose is shaped more like a snout, narrow and visibly moist. She playfully sways her curvy hips, a short tail peeks out from behind her as she approaches him, her doe-eyed pupils intently locking with his. “Did you see what just happened to me?“ he brazenly questions her, thinking she had to witness at least a glimpse of the torment he just endured. She remains quiet, continuing towards him without pause, focused on her objective. “You here for a good time or somethin’ lady?” he says in half-jest as an attempt to deescalate his growing concern. Again she fails to respond, now uncomfortably close; The porch creaks under her unusual footsteps, they clack like hooves as she climbs the stairs leading to him. He pushes down on the arms of his chair for leverage to stand to his feet, now angered by the uninvited stranger on his property. “Who the hell do you-“ before he can finish his sentence, she plunges her hand into his throat, thrusting him back down into the chair. She casually fidgets around with his vocal cords, using her craggy fingers to twist and braid them. “Agh-hough” she tilts her head to the side as she watches him choke on his blood, he clasps at his neck and tugs at her forearm. She leans in closer, removing her hand quickly, shattering his wrist in the process as it falls to his side flaccid, strength and will sapped from his body. In his final moments, he scans her face for answers; She whispers to him with hatred and contempt weaved into her voice. “Humanity weeps at your fate, tears of rejoice flood the streets in celebration of your death. Men like you are the enemy of decency, the burden that comes with free will.” his pupils dilate as he finally understands what’s happening. She continues, hissing under her breath, brimming with a malevolent smile. “I relish in your suffering, as do the victims you forged from wickedness. Vengeance is our comfort tonight.” His eyeballs roll back into his skull while he gurgles on the blood clotting in his throat one last time before succumbing to his ghastly wound.

The mysterious woman corrects her posture, now fully standing over the man’s corpse. She admires her work briefly and then vanishes as swiftly as she appeared. The man is left slumped over, drained of any signs of life. Crickets chirp again undisturbed in the thick of the isolated wilderness.