Sherry the Beast

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

Sherry and Les serve in the same Army combat unit. The night before a big battle, they sleep in a pup tent. Les has a nightmare, or is it?

Submitted: March 07, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 07, 2018



Sherry the Beast by David Poynter


Les knelt in the corner of a nondescript, unfurnished room with his hands and feet bound behind his back. 

The bindings.  Not handcuffs, rope or tape.  Zip ties?  Maybe.  How the hell did I get here?

He scanned the enclosure.

A barred window.  Feels like a big jail cell.

With a profound sense of helplessness, the perception of impending doom blanketed him like a death shroud.

But what peril?  Okay, I’m hogtied but nothing looks that threatening, otherwise.

A dark-reddish liquid seeped from beneath the only door.

Diesel oil?  No.  I’d smell it.

Flowing freely as water, covering half the floor, the substance began to spread upward, onto the walls.

Impossible. Liquid would have to fill the room first

Fear was replaced by panic when the mystery fluid drew near enough for Les to identify it.

Not liquid.  Bugs ~ millions of tiny ones.  Shit!  Red usually means poisonous in nature.

The throng inundated him, a yell for help was stifled.  The miniscule insects had swarmed his entire body, filled his opened mouth and strangled him as multitudes crept down his throat.

The door blasted open, crashing hard against a metal trashcan with a deafening clang.  Carrying an unfamiliar, telescoped silver tube, Sherry strode across the threshold; long, platinum-blonde hair cascaded from beneath a purple football helmet and a royal-blue cape flowed behind her resembling a flag in a gentle breeze.

Pain and weakness drained the very life from Les as he gagged and spasmed.  Cringing and sinking to the floor, he saw his mother’s face, looking twenty years younger, a puppy he’d had at the age of seven.

This is it.  


The fuck! … Fire?

An inferno had erupted, flames everywhere at once.  Burning bugs sparked and popped in mid-air, resembling miniature fireworks.

The tube.  Sherry’s using a goddamned flame thrower!

Although his shirt and pants were ablaze, he felt no heat, no pain whatsoever and he could breathe again.  Sherry beckoned with a ‘come hither’ hand gesture.  “It’s time to go, my love,” she said.  Her voice was different, low and raspy, but Les was ecstatic she’d come to his rescue. 

I’m free. The flames must have incinerated the bindings.

Relief flooded over him like a waterfall as he stood.  With renewed energy, he brushed ash from his shoulders and hair before taking a step toward her.

My lovely, blue-eyed Sherry saved my life.

Les took another step and froze in his tracks.  With amazement, then shock, he watched her face morph before his eyes.  Her beauty was rapidly transformed into an oozy green mass before elongating to form oval orb resembling a football.  Her mouth widened and razor sharp pincers emerged from the sides of her head, beneath what had been her ears.

For fucks sake, she looks like a giant, gelatinous ant.

Les backed into the corner again as the Sherry monster’s mandibles ceased their growth, coming to rest on either side of a black, gaping cavern of a mouth.  Purplish liquid … poison? ... dripped from needle-sharp tips.  The abomination’s eyes had quadrupled in size and taken on a dark, reddish-orange glow.

The biting bugs swarmed him again but Sherry the beast was, by light years, the greater menacing avoidance.

Grasping his head with a pincer in each ear, the think clamped down.  Les felt tremendous pressure before hearing the deafening crack of his skull when it caved-in.  Another attempt to scream produced only a faint, high-pitched squeak.

“Wake up, Les!” Sherry shook him by his shoulder. “It’s only a dream, babe.”

Throwing his arms around her neck, he hugged her tightly to his chest and heaved a massive sigh of relief.  He kissed her ear, her cheek … her … worm infested lips!

“Oh, my God!  What the…?”

Les scrambled on his hands and knees to escape the pup tent but Sherry held him by his ankle.

“No!  I don’t wanna die like this.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Les,” Sherry yelled.

Opening his eyes, he stared into her concerned face. 

No worms 

“You were having a helluva nightmare, sweetheart.  You’re okay,now.  Want some coffee?  I just made a fresh pot.

“Sure,” he replied.

Even after his second cup, Les kept staring at Sherry.  It would be a while longer before he’d dare to give her another hug.  He shuddered at the thought.

Hopefully, I’m actually awake this time.

Sherry smiled.  The gruesome sight, a mouthful of sharp-pointed teeth and elongated incisors assured he was either not yet awake or he'd died and gone to Hell.

Fuck me!

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