It Comes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

This story is a man that is put down by the laws of human order, stripped from the fabric of comfort where home is his hell and the human mind is crippled beyond repair. Let's look into the mind of
Donald Moon and his possession of what is desired when It Comes.

Submitted: October 31, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 31, 2017



Donald Moon heard about the silence between people around town since the murder that has happened. No one wanted to talk about it in the cornerstone bar. No one talked about it at church – ever since the first sermon on after with exception. No one talked about it at the car wash. Hell, no one even wanted to talk about it at Rose Pedal’s diner. They put it in the past real quick when they knew that the person that was murdered is a scumbag, a thief, a porous act that is despicable upon God and his implement upon what has been created upon Mother Earth.

They didn’t feel pity for the man that is murdered in the playground in town, wondering who he got there in the first place when they thought that the guy that murdered him is stronger than an ox and keen with the respect for a long knife. The knife is probably a Bowie Knife; that is what the cops conclude in their reports when they also wondered what he was doing out at three o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday night in a peaceful town such as this?

Was there something else going down? They couldn’t justify with just one murder that has happened in town in the past seventy nine years since the last murder when one woman lost her sanity and drown her child in a claw-footed bathtub. The brutality of the crime is most punishable by this scumbag that has lived in town.

The chains that are around this man’s neck happened before the stabbings are subdued, that is what the cops also placed in their long detailed reports that are longer than the floor of the police station that sits on Melville Street, past the Quick N’ Fix Shop that has been going under for the past three years or so since the Big Change is slowly moving in outside of town. The worst part about all of it is the opioid addiction that is running rampant with people dying two or three times a month. Domestic calls on drug overdoses are becoming a normal thing in town which is odd for a town that looks after everyone else.

The townsfolk are wondering if this is the last of peaceful settlement as we know it. They can’t be wondering about that – can they?

Donald Moon still heard about the silence that is happening around town when he became the punished one, the one that cannot stand up for himself, the one that has been beaten up all of his life, the one that is put down by everyone else, and the one that will forever be dead in the hearts of all.

“Why didn’t someone should kill you?” One of the men that strolled around him cussed at him as he was wondering down the street one day. He was only going to the local grocery store to get a loaf of bread when the man by the name of Tom Varker cussed at him like that like they were still in grade school. The two children are grown up full men – one with kids and the other without (for the sake of no woman being touched by that limp dick, pathetic piece of shit).

Donald didn’t know what to do when he stopped in his tracks. He felt like his remorse is going through, welling up tears in his eyes. The other feeling is boiling up, willing to discuss why he should say that to any normal human being.

Then there is a third feeling that he pushed out of his head real quick. The dark feelings that have been coming to him like a train that is coming down the tracks more and more to the train station when this third feeling came in, being so unlike him that is getting worse in worse in his mind ever since six months before when he stubbed his nail with that 32-ounce Eastwing Hammer.

(Maybe you can trip him and stomp his neck. That will stop his talking for good. See if he is the big man with the big balls now when I fuck him up for the rest of his fucking life. Fuck them all and let the God and Devil sort him out. Fuck them all, they don’t give a shit about you. Just do it and do it well. You have the keys to the deathly kingdom. You are the one that will shine the warning light upon them all. You will…)

Donald Moon went to the nearest public bench and sit down.

“What is happening to me? What is happening?” Donald moon placed both of his hands onto his face, kneeling down into the bench when a bird dropped swoop in front of him to check the ground if there are any worms vibrating underneath their claws.

“My mother would be upset for thinking such things. My mother would be upset.” Donald started rocking on the park bench when he felt the cord through the air like invisible nets that are dancing upon his naked skin. He is wearing a windbreaker jacket when he noticed that it will be fall in a month. His thick glasses are fogging up when he tried to get that voice out of his head. When he did he heard the sound of a motor driving up, a mail carrier car with the passenger window rolled down when he noticed that it is Tabitha Nickleson when he looked up, dropping his hand into his lap.

“Why don’t you kill yourself Donald, save us the trouble.” Tabitha rolled up her fist and gave him the one finger salute when she drove off with the window still down, going towards the next mailbox that is in her path.

Donald has lived with these people since birth that don’t care about him. He has lived with these people so long that they know they don’t care about him and they want him to leave with that word exile written across his back. Donald has been in depression all of his life.

That night, he cooked a T.V. dinner in the microwave and sat down in front of the television, watching a rerun of Quantum Leap. He felt nothing as he sat there and pissed in his recliner chair when he sees the phone with no one ever calling him. He looked at the black screen when he noticed that there is a shadow that plagued across it, wondering how that can be when he jumped up from the chair as he continued to watch the shadow swim out of the black screen.

What in the hell was that? Donald Moon thought with wondrous surprise when the room changed into something that he dared never knew when he lapsed into another room that he had never been here before. The room is damp, long, and there are bust on each side of this long railed door that is standing before him some seventy feet from where he is standing. The door is one of those rolled up warehouse doors with a red curtain drop that is transparent before it, like it was some sexual appetite that is about to unfold when Donald Moon wondered what happened and what happened to his living room.

There is nothing but black around him but the door, the curtain, and the busts that are standing upon each side of it like an archway. Donald didn’t know what to do when he looked around him, figuring out what to do when the door opened through the transparent, rosy colored curtain, revealing a woman that is shadowed in black when she stood behind the rosy colored curtain in an instance of foreplay.

“You know what hell is and you can’t get out it.” The woman spoke in a voice that is too womanly, enticing to the feeling of pleasure when he felt something that he had rarely felt when he tried to keep that in control.

“You never have seen Heaven. No one could grant you that favor.” The woman became more distinguished when the light from somewhere poured upon her complexion.

She is naked, fully disrobed in the light of some world that Donald can’t precede when she took one arm and pulled the robe to the side. Her nipples are pointy, her breasts are perky and her public hair is the color of red when she sauntered foreword, getting closer and closer to him when Donald dropped his jaw with a moan that came out of his mouth.

“What is to fear if there is nothing left to come from it? You’ve been neglected and tormented all of your life and nothing has come from that? So…what are you going to do with that? What can you do?” The woman flirted when she rested upon his shoulder with her breasts in full view of his vision.

“Why do you keep it all inside, Donald? Don’t you just want to…?” She grabbed his glasses from the bridge of his nose and closed them with her hand. Something else happened when her hand lit up with fire and the glasses incinerated, turning to dust in her hand as she opened it and blew the dust away.

“There you go no more disability to the eyes; the dullness to the hearing of your left ear…?” She walked to the other side of him and slapped her hands together. He winced when he brightened up to the sound of the slap being crystal clear, moving his jaw around when he closed the nostrils with one hand and exhaled through his closed nostrils. The pressure is equal on both sides when he noticed that he can hear completely, fresh and clean.

“You are mine. We had been through this before, you know?” The woman walked around him when she stood before him with her nakedness all en tow.

“You can’t remember since you came across that book that is in your closet that you didn’t know before. I know you don’t remember…the…book.” She brought her breasts together when she started to walk foreword ever so slowly.

“You know that I can bring you pain and pleasure at the same time. I can bring out the best in men through the worst. Some men can handle me and some men die under my feet like a footstool. Men cannot be convinced by words by actions of what they want the most.” The woman smiled when she walked closer to him, being close to arm’s length.

“You know what that is?” She wrapped her arms around him before he even realized it.

“I…um…What is…This?”

“You can figure out this is…but first…”

The act is unseen to the eyes of the living for this course is neither heaving or upon the living to be talked about. Donald Moon has never lost his virginity before in his memory perhaps.

Or did he by this woman; this temptress; this witch; no…It can’t be what he thought it is when he woke up in the same chair with his glasses gone from the existence of this life. His hair is sleeked back like he did a comb on it. His mind is sharp as it ever is. His hearing is perfect and he is sitting in this chair that is soiled in piss.

“What the fuck did I do to myself?” He jumped up from the chair when he found a metal fork that is lying upon the floor. He knelt down to pick it up when he found something that is gleaming underneath the couch.

“Well hello, you big motherfucker; where in the hell are you when I need you?” He cracked a smile when he reached down to grab what is necessary to do the plan that is running in his mind. He whooped when he glared it in the light overhead. It is only nine o’clock in the evening when he thought about Tom Varker that is living on Hanna Drive on the outskirts of town. He thought about him for the longest him when he sees the television that is in front of him in vindicated hate as he rushed towards it and kicked the T.V., creating a hole of destruction that can never be repaired as he laughed as the electrical burned, creating a smoke that rose to the ceiling.

He felt alive as he dropped the knife into the sheath and roamed out of his house for good night of fun such as this. He didn’t even lock the door behind him when he walked down the sidewalk towards the dark night where the possibilities seem endless.


Tom Varker was on his tenth beer when he felt the rise of his anger getting full bore. He couldn’t get an ounce of silence through any of them tonight, not even the dog that won’t shut up when he started to drink the beer more and more. The truck’s starter is going out and he is getting behind on his credit cards bills. The final notice of the electric bill just arrived in the mail eight days ago when the two boys were sitting on the floor, fighting over that piece of shit video game system that Tom wanted to destroy when he remembered being under the hood of a car at their age, learning the fire timing of a Plymouth Satellite.

What in the hell happened to the society when he continued to sit there with his mouth slightly open to the point that a horsefly can fly into. What in the hell?

“Tom, can you get the cat out of the basement?” Rhona intervened through the sound of the veracious beeps and sound effects from the video game that is streaming from the television when he got up, setting the beer down on the end table when he thrapped one of them upon the ear.

“This game better be off when I get back.”

The two boys know that he has been on a drinking streak ever since they cut his raises down to flat-pay over a month ago when they both nodded their heads, getting back to the game for as little as possible with the clock quickly running out. Tom moseyed out of the room, through the kitchen where Rhona is tending to some potatoes in the basin sink, peeling away the skin when she looked up through the tendrils of her frizzled hair and then back to the work that is getting the best of her that is within her hands.

“You remember before we had children.” Her reminiscence of the past that is no longer here to relive anymore.

“Yeah. We used to do things that we can’t do anymore. Now we are getting old, honey. Running through the gauntlet of keeping our kids on the straight and narrow. I wonder if we can go down to Skip Maid Park and watch the sun come up again. Go to the movies and sit there long after the credits and snuggle. Have a Hot Dog at The Corona Mutt or have a slice of pizza at The Vesoroni.” Tom looked at the wall that is cluttered with all these appointments that are upon the corked wall, wondering if they can relive that for just once. If they can relive the past of once was that happened before Rhona became pregnant.

She giggled at the memories before her face became slack, looking ten years older when she started peeling the potatoes again.

“That cat won’t come out on its own.”

“I know, I’ll get him.” He shuffled to the door and opened it to the basement, flicking on the switch beside him as he traveled down the steps to the coldness of it that has been cold ever since they bought the place.

The cat by the name of Chopper is down there, avoiding him when he wished he had a more obedient cat when he waited for the cat to make a mistake, grabbing him by the hind quarters like grabbing a rabbit from the clover of which it eats. The cat put up a fight which he is declawed since he was a little kitten.

That will teach you, you blasted old cat. Tom marveled at his reflexes when he brought the cat up to the depths of above, shutting out the light and closing the basement in pitch darkness where there is nothing more to be sought in that place.


Rhoda went to bed that night as the children are snoring in their rooms. Tom snuck out with his feet being silent as ever, going out the front door like some comical ninja coming in and taking food like taking candy from a nine-month old baby. The outside is enclosed in a patio with a screen stapled around it, creating a mild haze in the streetlights that are rendering through the black screen that looks out to the neighborhood.

He sees his rusted pick-up truck sitting in the driveway with the shocks almost to boot and the sway bar for the suspension almost cracked in two. The bed of the truck has so many dents in it that it is resembled as the texture of a golf ball when he looked at it and wondered how much work he has done in the bed of that truck? The one-stall garage is in terrible need of some TLC with the studs coming through the rotten and musty walls of the building that is sitting behind the house, covering in leaves from the on-going tree rain when Tom didn’t worry about it, not one bit.

“How am I going to do it? How am I going to tell them that we are going bankrupt?” He assured himself in silence.

“What am I going to do in this mess? I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.” Tom kept the cigarette in his hand that he lit a few minutes before when he felt the burning sensation between his index and middle finger. He flung the cigarette to the floor in reaction, stomping it out with his bare foot that didn’t hurt too much as he has so many calluses on his foot that the skin is made of hard rubber instead of flesh now.

“Motherfucker,” He embarrassed himself in silence when somewhere he heard the clocking of boot heels coming down the sidewalk with the streetlights of a person keeping him in shadow.

He looked up wondering who it is. Is it an insomniac walking through the neighborhood at night trying to get sleepy or is it a prowler that is scoping out the neighborhood for reconnaissance? He didn’t know as the shadow of the person appeared into the view of the screen, coming down the sidewalk with a bouncing stride to the shadow that is pure in question.

Tom is on the neighborhood watch committee.

“Hey.” He spoke through the screen of his enclosed porch.

The guy stopped in his tracks and slowly turned his head.

“Can I help you with anything?”

The shadow continued to stand there, looking through the blackness of the screen when the wind started to blow. The shadow didn’t move, not for almost ten second noir spoke.

“Are you mute or something?” Tom considered to say this when the shadow turned his body towards the direction of the house.

The shadow of what looks like a man stood there for the longest moment, not moving, not speaking with no face that that dwells into the light.

“You got a problem or something?” Tom felt the rise of anger bubbling up inside of him.

The shadow stood there, doing nothing when Tom got up from his seat and came to the door.

“You’re starting to piss me off, buddy.” Tom gritted his teeth a little when the man continued to stand there before turning, starting his cycle down the street with nothing for it to say.

“You can’t fucking face me, motherfucker? You in the fuck do you think you are?” Tom unlatched the hook from the eyelet and swung the door open, pummeling down the steps with his anger showing up on the chords of his neck. He stomped towards the shadow that is still walking with no course of turning around.

“I’m talking to you, you dumb son of a bitch.” Tom came close to grabbing him on the shoulder but failed when his foot stumbled upon the part of the sidewalk that is pushed up from the root of the ground that is underneath it. He almost fell on his face.

“You asshole, you don’t know who you are fu…” Tom reached foreword more enticing and swing him around when the face came into the light of the light that is above them now.

“What? You? The dick suck that used to be in my school?” Tom started to chuckle, putting his hand over his mouth.

“What? You got big balls now? Not those baby balls that you carry around in that sack you call a man bag? What are you going to do, pussy? You want to mess with me? Okay, let’s see what you got?”

Donald Moon stood there with his hair sleeked back. Donald has different clothes on him now that is textured in dark colors that he has not used for the longest time. The boots that he stole from the last person that he murdered casted a dim glow about them when he remembered that he wore the same sized shoes as his victim.

What luck? Seriously, what luck is that after all of this energy that Donald has to focus now?

“What the hell are you going to do? What? Stand there like you did all of your life? What the hell are you going to do?”

Donald reeled his right fist back and did a haymaker on Tom’s left cheek. Tom felt the wind get knocked out of him on that one. He didn’t remember that kind of punch for the longest time ever since. Maybe he remembered but it was all in a haze of drunkenness since the last time he got into a brawl.

“Holy shit. You do know how to punch. What the hell have you been doing? Working out?” Tom reeled back to his stance when Donald took both of his hand and made them into a double entre fist bump, bringing it down in the center of Tom’s face when Blood flew in all directions from the moment of impact.

Tom felt an exquisite pain fire all through his face when he moved back four steps, catching the blood that is pouring profusely down his face like the streams of Niagara before the plunge off of the big gulf.

Two of his teeth popped out of his gums, washing around in his mouth when he spit them out, clattering upon the sidewalk like little tic-tac sounds.

“You fucking bitch? You broke my…” Donald rushed forward and grabbed him by the neck, hoisting him up by the power of one arm when Tom’s face flushed out in pure fear of what is happening.

“Let me go, you freak! Let me the fuck…” That is when Donald started walking down the sidewalk, still hoisting Tom with Donald’s feet moving down the cracks of the walkway.

It’s like an odd movie going on in an odd angle with the camera pointing at the pimpled faced freak that is staring back at me with those shark eyes. The shark eyes are smelling the blood from me. Oh Jesus, I’m scared.

Donald came to the car nearest of him when he took his other hand and grabbed Tom’s crotch, squeezing his balls like they are going to pop like grapes when Tom’s expression turned into something like death before it to be snuffed out from the world that is turning against Tom rather too quick to comprehend.

Donald did a bomb dive with Tom’s back smashing into the windshield of the car when it shattered. Tom felt something pop in his back when he couldn’t scream, being too painful for that to ensue.

“No…NO!!!” Tom pleaded with Donald when he grabbed him by the leg and pulled him off of the car, sliding him over the hood to where the hood is gone as Tom felt the rush of fear as his head connected to the curb of the sidewalk and the rubber of the front passenger tire bumping on his head all at once.

The pain is excruciating. The pain felt so bad that he couldn’t measure it on a chart anymore.

“Donald – please, you don’t have to do this? I’m-I-I-sorry, just don’t do it.” Tom started to plead through the pool of blood that is filling up around his head, feeling the blood come up his esophagus, spitting it out in heaves of his breath that is mixed with his own bodily fluid.

Tom pissed and shit himself for the first time since he was four on a playground far away from this town.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Tom veered at the shadow that is standing before him with no face leading into the light again. There is nothing but black standing before him when Donald brought his right foot up past his waist, clocking up and up towards the impossible that the human condition can maneuver.

“I’m sorry. I’M sorry. I’M SORRY! DON’T DO IT!!!” Tom raised his one arm up towards Donald with his other arm not working, not moving at all with his spine all messed up with the last moments of his life leading to this.

Donald brought the boot down on his breastplate, stomping his heart as blood flew from his mouth like a geyser when Tom’s expression turned into a horrid awe, then a gentle feeling of slipping into a warm bath, then into an expression that is comforted by the warmest blanket to be folded over him in the coldest night that is ever recorded in local history.

There is nothing to be seen upon those eyes as Tom died there in his piss and shit.

The shadow moved away into the night that is dark with no eyes watching what had happened.


He came through the door, pulling his boots off before he came in so he didn’t track what is on them in the house. He moved up the stairs, not touching anything with the blood that is upon his hands. He went into the bathroom and flicked the light on with his elbow when he touched the only one thing that he has to bleach later with the jug underneath the wash basin.

He cleaned his hands with simple precision, getting under his fingernails as he cleaned and cleaned and cleaned for what seemed like thirty minutes. He did it with ease, like burying a stranger’s cat in the backyard. After he turned off the knob to the basin and bleached the entire ceramic and knobs down, he looked at himself in the mirror and smiled with this being the happiest night that he had ever witness in his life.

He kept the light on in the bathroom, knowing that there are no windows in the bathroom when he disrobed himself, stuffing all the clothes in a garbage bag and taking it out to throw it into the green receptacle near the edge of the property, along with his boots that clattered when he closed the lid upon it all. The only thing on him was a fresh shirt and his boxers when he straddled inside with the light still off in his house, being precise upon it all as he clamored up the stairs with his ankles doing all the work.

He didn’t even have to use the knife on his measure when he hid it in a different spot now behind the headboard of his bed with duct tape keeping it there, in place for the next time that he has to use it again. He taped it so he can slide the knife out of the sheath when trouble arises.

That is no problem for Donald Moon. He has seen a new reflection upon life that he never thought possible before when he got some other clothes from the dresser that is on the other side of his bedroom as he felt happy.

He felt alive and that is good enough for him. He will remember upon this night through the morning when the succubus will come for him in his dreams again, tending to his isolation for his own sense to be sure that this will not be over, not for a long shot when the morning came over the horizon faster before he even realized it.

That morning, he ate four rashers of bacon, three eggs, four slices of toast – with butter and had a glass of orange juice as a kicker. This is going to be a great day for Donald Moon as he acted to be surprised over the conversations that will be around town of the murder of Tom Varker.

He kept to himself just the same as someone threw a bottle at him in the alleyway down Graber Street, hobbling before the bottle clashed against the brick wall that shattered it to pieces with his reflexes being great as ever.

Donald is on the prowl now, waiting and waiting for the next night of release to come. He waited so he didn’t draw suspicious upon himself as the commotion died down on another murder that is happening in this small, quiet town. He waited for it to come again.

It comes eventually.

© Copyright 2020 Adam Steele. All rights reserved.

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