The Feast

Reads: 64  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a story about a man that stumbled upon something that is buried underneath his own property. The consequences of his finding will rob him of his life. The actions of this will affect the lives of others following the incident that happened in Michigan during one winter year.

Submitted: December 26, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 26, 2018

A A A

A A A


He drunk all the beer from the case of thirty-count that he bought three hours before and he is hungry. He sat in front of the television screen with some of the pixilation burned out when he held his last beer that is on the right armrest. The second floor to the house is sealed off this winter, keeping the heating bill down when he sat there in front of the television, drunk as a skunk when he looked at the window with the curtain closed against it.

“This is the life.” Prant burped with some of the beer on top of the aluminum can sloshing. It came over the brim and landed on his leg when he looked at the newfound stain and then looked up with his skin burning the heat of fire.

“I come home. I drink. I don’t have to work anymore since I have a bum leg. Let the Hispanics pay my bills. I don’t mind.” He laughed at the screen and drunk the last of his beer when he tried to get up and failed, falling back into his chair with his eyes peering at the ceiling and then peering down at the television that is in front of him.

“I…need to find a hobby.” He blurted this out in a speed of a drunken sailor before seeing the waves of a tsunami when he needed to pee and pee something fierce.

Minutes before, he was out skipping around in the lawn with the lawnmower just paces from him. He hiccupped to the stars in the sky with him being bundled up when he found a hole in the ground by accident. The lawnmower’s battery was pulled for the winter when his foot fell into the hole as he started to curse a little at the ground. He took about almost a minute to get out of the ground when he finally dug some length to get back up from the hole again. He stood over the hole in the ground and glanced inside of it when he can see nothing in the ground but darkness. Prant scratched his head and ambled back inside with his drunkenness fleeting away from him. He lead into the kitchen to get something from under the wash basin when he found a pack of industrial glow sticks that have been down there for four years. The glow sticks are packed in a cardboard box when he grabbed two of them and hurried outside with no skip in his step anymore. It took him almost twenty seconds to find the hole in the ground again when he cracked the first glow stick and mixed up the contents inside of it. He centered the glow stick in the hole and dropped it through the ground when he looked at the glow stick falling and falling, hitting the ground that took it three seconds. He stood up and looked at the neighborhood, seeing the fence line and the blue yard light that is glowing on his neighbor’s property when he looked at the ground again, scratching his head with the stubble on his chin growing slightly longer. He went back inside to grab the pix axe and the shovel that are in the closet space when he shut off the bulb that inside the closet space, going back outside when he got to work with the cavern that is within the ground.

It was a sight to unbury when Prant also realized that he was starting to get a headache from his lack of being drunk. He collected his tools and walked back into the house when he realized that he was getting low on beer. That was over thirty minutes ago when the hole in the ground is about the dimensions of an 8 by 10 feet hole. He is out of beer when he sloshed off to sleep with no sleep troubling him but the bum leg that happened in an accident that happened on company grounds. He used to work at a trailer building factory some time back before a frame came off a hook rack and landed right on his right leg. He can still smell the lacquer and varnish from the wood before he passed out of consciousness. When he woke up, half of the shop was around him when all that he can see is red all around him. The world stopped just for him. Just for a spell, it stopped for him when he awoke to the feel of the light that is on his once closed eyebrows. He wiped the sleep from his eyes when he looked around the living room when he got up, noticing that he went to the bathroom all over himself when he grimaced at the pee that is all over the chair. He got up just the same, leading himself to the bathroom to empty out the rest of his bladder when he came back into the living room with the light more apparent in the kitchen with the newspapers on the floor and pizza boxes stacked high as the refrigerator that is leaning against it. Prant need to sprucing the place but what is to care, no one comes to his house when he raised his hand and threw it against the garbage that is all around the place. He traveled into his bedroom to collect his clothes that are in the drawers.

Later on, he came back outside with the sun coming leaner and leaner from the east with his breath coming out of his mouth. He looked around the property for any signs of people looking through his windows when he couldn’t remember what happened from the night before? He doubled over to see that one of his gnomes are broken from the stumble that he took from the night before when he picked up the ceramic shards off of the porch and threw them in the curbside trash that he placed there just yesterday. Then he saw the hole that is within the ground when he cocked his head, barely remembering anything when he sauntered to the hole to look down. The sun shone on the ground when he sees how deep it is in the length of two stories that are within the ground. He stood up from the hole and backed away from it a little, hoping for the ground to now swallow him from his weight when he rubbed his chin with the stubble showing on his face now.

He couldn’t remember digging out the hole when he went back inside his house to call someone that he knows. He doesn’t know anyone; he is a recluse when he dropped the phone back onto the end table and sighed. He looked out the window when he sees some movement behind the length of fencing that serves the borders of his property, knowing it is the neighbor’s dog that is jumping about behind the fence. Prant looked at it for a moment when he went back to the closet that houses his garden implement as he looked at the dirt on his pix axe and the dirt that is upon the shovel. He couldn’t remember with the headache burring through his mind like a buzz saw when he rubbed his head, closing the door to the closet with the light struck off from the flick of his wrist when he stood there against the door, dropping his head to his chest when he looked at the lacings of his boots that he wore since last night.

He picked up his boots and looked at the dirt that is in the insoles when he dropped them onto the ground again. He couldn’t remember a damn thing when he thought about going to the bar latter and then brushing that to the side. He had enough to drink from the night before when he sat in his chair for a while, looking at the television that is still on when he wondered how can that hole exist that is unearthed from the ground by his memory that he cannot remember? What happened last night? Prant couldn’t remember when he got up from the chair to get his coat once again so he can go to the market to get some things from the stew. Prant is hungry and hungry he is. He is in town most of the day when he came back home with the sun slowly going down in the west, dropping the bags onto the kitchen floor when he looked at the filth on the kitchen counter. He felt like the need of getting a beer when he bought another thirty pack from the store, knowing that he smells like a medicine show as he ripped off the top of the cardboard box to grab a cold one inside of it.

Prant drunk greedily when he felt the nerve of drunkenness hit him like a splash of water that washed over his face. He grabbed the groceries on the floor and placed the food into the fridge when he kept drinking his beer until the first one is done, dropping it into a paper bag that is within the porch area that leads to the door to the backyard. He went to grab another beer with the box that is now in the fridge when he came back into the living room, dropping himself into the chair to quench his thirst on the second beer when the television in front of him continued to play on some movie that he had never seen before. He turned up the volume on the television when an hour and a half went by as he went to the bathroom to do his business twice. He then wondered to the kitchen to prepare his stew that shimmered as he cut the carrots and strewn the beans from their roots. He placed them all into a pot and made the stew that took him forty minutes to prepare when he felt the wave of drunkenness wash over him.

He felt the urgency to walk out to that hole again with the ladder that is resting up against the shed when he fought it and fought it with hardship. He didn’t want to fight it anymore when he grabbed his coat with the last beer in his hand, walking outside into the cold with the wind starting to blow the bald limbs around as he thrilled himself to the hole that is in the ground. He did this with smoothness, not tripping on his own legs when he went to grab the ladder that is up against the shed. He came back to the hole some minutes later and extended it to the ground below as he also grabbed an LED lantern that he bought this summer for emergencies. He made sure that the ladder is sturdy before going down it, keeping the lantern on his left forearm when he started to see hieroglyphs and odd writings that are upon the wall. Prant kept stepping down the ladder when he can see not dirt on the ground but stone as he felt it underneath his boots as hard as ever. In the light of the lantern, he can see the little glints of gold that are on the bases of stone that is jutted from the ground when he can see the products of old that are before him.

What are these artifacts, Prant wondered when he kept the lantern in his hand? These artifacts are the product of old indeed when he came closer and closer to the stone that is protruding from the ground. What he is seeing are the stones of sarcophagus that are standing side by side with hieroglyphs that he cannot even begin to pronounce. They are not the hieroglyphs of Egyptians but the hieroglyphs of something of alien language. They are spirals that circle in on the top of the stones that got thinner and thinner to the point that it did make a point on the top of the stones when Prant wondered about the stones. Who placed them there? Prant didn’t know. Also in consideration that he is thinking, what is within those stones? He looked at the walls that are covered with dust when he looked at the ladder that reached to the mild light above. He looked at the ladder for the longest time, thinking of calling someone up state when he shook his head and lead up the ladder to where the yard light is.

He didn’t to do anything else for tonight when he lead himself back into the house to get some sleep in his bed. He turned off the television when the house laid in dark quiet for this night. In the morning when he got up, he wiped the sleep from his eyes once again. He got up from his bed with no thought of what happened the night before. He crept up to the window his bedroom to see the backyard when he stumbled to the bathroom to do his business, coming back out of the bathroom with no sun coming into the windows anymore. He felt like crap but he did get some sleep. He went to the kitchen to prepare some eggs on the gas range. By the time he is finished, he sat at the table with the fork in his hand. He remembered the hole but he did not remember the sarcophaguses that are beneath the ground. He felt like someone hit him with a hammer when he sat there for almost thirty minutes, finally getting up to get the pills that are in the drawers of his cabinet and swallowing them down with the water from the sink. He stood there and looked at himself in the mirror, feeling the faint lines of age on his face when he stood there at the mirror with the dawn cloaked in darkness with the feel of snow on the brink of falling.

He left that mirror to go outside to feel the look around the place. When he finished, he came back to the hole with a beard on his face now, looking at the ladder like a doorway that is now open, never to close again when he looked at the neighborhood and the sky that is above him. He touched the top of the ladder with his hand and now his foot as he went down the tomb of the unknown that declares no name.

He stayed down there for almost an hour when he came back up, needing a crowbar that is in the shed when he wiped the dust from his clothes, going to the shed to grab it as he traveled down the ladder again when he stayed there for one hour, two hours, three hours, and more. Night falls over the land as he stays down there when the sun came up from the east again. He stayed there in that tomb when one day became two and two days became three. He came back up on the fourth day feeling great; like a brand new man when he can see clearer than ever now. He felt the world clear now when he stood there, taking off his jacket when he can feel cold no more or heat no more. He felt no extremity of discomfort anymore on his body when he can feel like he can run, not feeling the hitch on his bum leg anymore.

He sees the snow fall on the ground when he looked around, needing of getting the work done when he started on the wood that is grouped in the backyard. He grabbed the axe in the shed and started to cut wood when it took him three hours to get the work done. He didn’t feel being out of shape when he is done, stacking the wood up to the height just barely on the top of his head. When he finished, the sun is going down in the west when he went inside, knowing that he is out of beer. He shrugged and grabbed his car keys, going to town to get another thirty-pack as he came home and popped the case in the fridge. He grabbed a beer and got to work when he drunk three beers, not feeling the buzz of alcohol at all when he looked at the beer, wondering if it is a bad case of beer. Prant shrugged and kept drinking the beer when he drunk the whole thirty-pack once again and felt no need of drunkenness in his bones anymore. He got up with the last empty in his hand, looking at the beer like it is tea when he threw the beer can on the floor and traveled outside with not a hitch in his step anymore.

“What happened? Why?” He is explaining why he is not getting drunk on the beer when he looked over to the hole that is partially covered in snow. He can swear that there is a glow coming from that hole when he stood there for the longest time with no cold on his body anymore.

“What is happening to me?” Prant thought hard at the matter when he swore that he is feeling something in the ground that is most wanting when he crept up to the ladder once again.

Four days later, he came out of the hole, looking at his hand with his fingernails long and the beard on his face falling from his chin. His hair that is on his scalp is falling as well when he looked at the sunshine that is burning overhead. He forgot to check the mail when he popped out of the hole, scurrying to the mailbox to see the many various envelopes that are tucked inside of it when he felt a grumble in his stomach. He felt no nourishment from the remaining stew from the night before when he looked at the stew in disgust. As he ate the stew, he felt horrible like throwing it up. What in the hell is wrong with him?

As he groveled the envelopes out of the mailbox, he looked at the lettering on the envelopes, casting his eyes upon the late due notices that are stamped in bolded red. He looked at the envelopes when he started to salivate upon the papers, drawing them closer and closer when he took three of the envelopes and pushed them into his mouth.

I’m eating and it feels so good. I’m eating – paper? What the hell am I eating paper for?

He spit out the pieces of paper from his mouth and almost felt like puking up all over the ground. He stood there for the longest time when he looked at the drooling pieces of eaten paper all over the curbside. I was eating paper. I was eating paper. I was eating paper! He felt like not needing these papers anymore.

In the minutes that passed, he went down the hole that is in the ground again. What was in the hole is unspeakable. He did not want to explain what is in those coffins.

Later that day, he came out of the hole with no hair on his scalp anymore as it regrew back into a different color that glowed in the shade of white. He looked around the neighborhood when he felt hungry. He looked at the bark of the tree when he came to it and broke some of the bark off the tree. He looked at it for the longest him when he licked his lips and took the bark into his mouth. He ate this with ease when he felt no disgust from it anymore. Then he looked at the railway that leads up to the back door when he felt it like a definite smorgasbord in his emotions that are wanting: hunger and hunger forever. He went to the rail that leads to the backdoor when he feasted on that with ease.

The day and night passed over the land again as the hole in the ground glows in a color of purple and red and meet back and forth in a never ending cycle of a constant fight that lasted for eons as the sarcophaguses lied open for the light to veil upon them. What is inside the tomb is something that is not human from this world that came from the constellations of Sagittarius in the far reaches of uncharted space? They came in search for knowledge of the people that had none when that said person rose up against them and smote them. They all died but the two people that lied in the tomb that burned every inch of their existence into a cinder.

All that is left is their bodies when they held out in a place that is secluded, not human to the grace of which they sow when the inhabitance of the land slowly killed them off like a cancer. What place them into those sarcophaguses is unknown as Prant didn’t know what it was doing to him as he started to eat wood for no apparent reason. His teeth broke out of his gums when something else grew into his gums in a matter of minutes when they came back in the teeth of a terrifying monster. His complexion of human changed as well as day folded over night and night enfolded over day again.

He did not feel hot or cold anymore as he lost the ability to talk on the sixteenth day since he unburied the tomb that is right under his property. By then, he trashed the inside of his house and strewn garbage all over the floor. The toilet ceramic is broke as the water is all over the floor seamed into the carpet in the living room, soiling the carpet as Prant perched on the chair in the living room. The lights are not on in the living room as he can see in the night, hearing the heartbeats of people that are living behind walls. He can hear everything outside his house as a simple drop of water in the drain is maddening. He did not feel the edge of sleep anymore when he is perched there on the living room chair with the television screen being black in front of him.

The light from the television is killing him when he felt the need of hunger in his stomach again. He went to the wall to fetch some more wood to eat. He had to keep his strength up. The hole in the ground pranced in the colors of red and purple in the nights that Prant is in his torment. During the day, it stood in silent like a sentry that cannot move as Prant continued to evolve into something that is not human anymore as the roof in the house started to sink onto itself. The wood is being picked clean inside the house when one of the neighbors started to notice this and called the police for a check-up. They came over an hour later with no lights flashing on top of their service cruiser when Officer Kraggs and Officer Peters opened the door to the service cruiser.

“Don’t forget to clean up that crap off of the seat or the night shift will complain.” Officer Peters ordered Officer Kraggs when Officer Kraggs looked at the seat and scoffed. They weren’t paying him enough. The night shift can clean it off for all she cares. They went up the sidewalk to the house when they started to smell a smell that is coming out of the house. It is the smell of kerosene mixed with rotten eggs when Officer Peters stopped in his tracks, pulling his .44 revolver from his holster. He ordered Officer Kraggs to do the same when there is a bemused look upon her face when she pulled her piece as Officer Peters went up the steps in a calm manner. He looked at the door before knocking upon it.

“Police Department,” Officer Peters knocked on the door again a little harsher.

“Police Department,” He waited for a few seconds when he knocked on the door a little harsher now when his fist went through the door like it is a bad case of rot. After his fist went through the door, he eyed at Officer Kraggs when he laughed for it all to be clear as Officer Peters reeled his fist back from the hole that is in the door now.

Officer Peters gleamed through the door when he saw nothing but darkness. He kept his hand on his revolver when he could do nothing else but to grab the knob on the front door and turned it. It is locked when he looked at the knob of the door.

“Okay, Kraggs. Keep your gun up. We’re going inside.” He nodded to her when he reached his hand into the hole to see if he can get to the knob on the other side of the door. He felt his hand just touching the knob of the door when a shadow appeared in the hole that he is digging through. He looked at the shadow when something grabbed his arm in the force that is not human at all.

“What the…” Officer Peters exhaled when something slimed on his arm as it started to burn like holy hell. He screamed when he started to smell his flesh burning on the other side of the door. Officer Kraggs ran up to the door and leveled her .40 caliber Glock against the door and fired her service weapon three times into the door as the door bent inward and collapsed. What came out of the door is not human as Officer Peters arm fell off the nub of his Humorous Bone. He started to go into shock when his eyes folded over into whites that are pointing in the sky as he fell onto the porch besides the beast that has hair growing all over a body that is not human at all. It eyes are green as it slithered on a tail that came further and further into the light with nails as long as spikes on the tips of jackhammers. It snarled as Officer Kraggs felt something broke in her mind, leveling the gun against it as it continued to fire until the magazine in the gun ran out.

The slithering beast on the porch made alien speech when Officer Kraggs dropped the spent magazine and racked in a fresh one in the gun. She called in as she fired her gun as people came out of their houses, seeing the horror as three of them fell to the deck as they saw the beast that came out of the house of Prant Neeland’s. They were all catatonic when they saw the slithering beast that harked back something in its gullet when it exhaled a ball of ooze and spat it out upon Officer Kraggs when she screamed bloody murder. She died from acid exposure twenty seconds later as the gun that she was once holding in her hand molded into her hand as the bone over the flesh started to show.

The beast slithered back into the house as people started to call the police, the National Guard, anyone to come to the house across the street as sirens continued to fill up in the night as the police came to combat the evil that is in the house. They failed when the National Guard came, along with the government that knew of the monster inside but kept it all hush-hush when they evacuated everyone from the entire town on concerns of a “gas leak” that the news media ate up in two hours. They rescinded the National Guard and brought the men and woman in black fatigues with no rank into the house to clean up when they did this and did this with ease.

The town was cordoned off for two months as the people that seen the monster are drugged and restrained under psychic evaluation, telling the victims that they are dreams and nothing more. The house across the road does not exist. It never existed when they came back into town with the house that was once owned by Prant Neeland, now excavated with no house, no shed, and no hole in the ground as the artifacts in the ground are pulled from the tomb that is bombed by classified armaments that eradicated it all. No one asked anymore questions when life seemed to return to normal. They ruled the two officers and various people that died from the “accident” that it was the cause of red prosperous that leaked with the gas that killed them as they were quickly incinerated or buried in the ground with their coffins drilled closed.

No one asked any questions like before. They were all kept in the dark once again.


© Copyright 2019 Adam Steele. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Science Fiction Short Stories